1. Select items for the apparel manufacturing business
Before launching a garment-making firm, it is critical to evaluate the local market's demand and purchasing trends. Talk to local consumers and sellers to identify any gaps that can be filled.
The garment manufacturing industry includes three key product groups. 1. Woven Garment, 2. Knit Garment, 3. Sweater Garment or Woolen Garment. Every category contains a diverse selection of products for men, women, and children. Products in the woven garment category include formal and informal shirts and pants. T-shirts, Polos, and other knit clothes are examples of items.
2.Create a business plan
It is critical to conduct extensive market research before developing a company plan. To begin, you must decide which product category you will be creating. Reduce the scope of your product profile as much as possible. Understand the industry and identify the key elements that influence the clothing industry. Calculate the fixed capital investment, including machinery and workspace costs, based on the estimated production demand.
3. Company registration and licenses
Choosing the appropriate business structure under which to manage your company is a critical decision. Depending on your resources, you can choose a business form such as a sole proprietorship, a limited liability company, a one person company, and so on.
4. Machinery for apparel manufacturing
You must select the appropriate manufacturing machinery for your goods. Apparel printing machines, fabric printing machines, t-shirt printing machines, various sewing machines, double-needle bar knitting machines, knit braiding machines, and so on are available. Choose the appropriate machinery based on your plan. Before placing the final order, double-check the warranty period and on-site training.
5. Learn basic apparel manufacturing process
The basic garment manufacturing steps are given below:
Design/sketch → pattern design → sample making → pattern production → grading → marker making → spreading → cutting → sewing / assembling → inspection → pressing/finishing → final inspection → packing → dispatch
6. Raw materials for garment manufacturing
The primary raw materials utilized in garment manufacturing are various types of high-quality textiles and fabrics. You will need various buttons and zippers depending on your needs. Check the raw material's quality before acquiring it. Talk to the sellers and buy the material from reputable sources at a reasonable price.
7. Create a sourcing plan
Garment manufacturing entails obtaining fabrics and materials from a textile manufacturer, cutting and stitching them into clothing materials, and then selling them. You must exercise caution when selecting items, purchasing equipment, setting up your company as a brand, and promoting your products in order to develop a successful garment manufacturing business. The better your designs, the fresher your ideas, and the better your chances of success.
8. Cost of starting an apparel manufacturing business
The investment necessary to start a clothing factory depends on the scale of manufacturing. However, a production area of 600 Sq. ft, and expenditure of roughly 20 lacs is a bare minimum to start a small-scale apparel manufacturing operation.
9. Hire manpower
Apparel production is a personnel-involved enterprise. The most crucial position is the designer. He or she actually performs the most vital duty in making the venture effective. Hire skilled and experienced labour only for senior roles.
10. Promote Your Garment Manufacturing Business
Economic conditions, demographic changes, and pricing all influence apparel sales. The garment sector has reached maturity and operates in a dynamic and competitive environment. A brand name is a significant tool in the development of the clothing business. Established brand names promote consumer loyalty, which results in recurring business. Choose a memorable connected to your clothing name for your business. Create a broad, strong distribution channel network.
Conclusion
Launching an apparel manufacturing business requires thorough market research, strategic planning, and acquiring the right machinery and raw materials. Focus on quality, skilled manpower, and effective branding to thrive in the competitive clothing industry. Radhekrishna Clothings offers branded shirts for wholesale retailers.

The Lesser Engine seemed to whimper, just before its animalistic head was crushed under the heavy heel of the Logos Armor. Petra was looking around, her armor covered in hellish grime, pieces of fiery cables, her hammerhead scraped in some places by the metal chitin of the warpforged abominations. A swing of her weapon decapitated a screaming techpriest, and she could see her sons advance behind her, focusing their fires onto the creatures that hadn’t come into her range.
She raised her arm and the bolter array built onto it sang four times, each bolt hitting and penetrating into the bronze hull of a monster. A movement in the side of her view immediately made her turn, and Petra placed herself right behind the Automata that was raising its shield to parry the volley of ammunition that a vomiting amalgamation of tin and steel was spewing out. The machine painted in the colors of the legion marched towards it, shield still forward as it was raising its hammer. Another Domitar joined in, and they started hammering down the bear, striking at the places that Petra indicated them to with her Logos.
Not even leaving them a moment of respite, a shriek echoed through the halls of the corrupted forgeworld, announcing the arrival of a new transformed machine, this time using the shape of a massive scorpion of brass, painted in red - probably actual blood. A True Daemon Engine.
“Stay behind”, Petra ordered her own troops. “Only the Iron Circle will engage with me. Provide cover fire”. Immediately her soldiers reorganized themselves, walking slightly back while she moved towards the warped machine. It was big, but not so much more than some beasts she had taken down during the Great Crusade.
The Logos Bolt Array roared in rapid succession, spitting explosive shells that burst on the thing’s pincer shell it was protecting itself with. The cannon on its tail aimed at the little group approaching, and fired in response. The bullets managed to pierced the shield of one of the Automata, bringing it to the ground in skittering motions as the Primarch ran to the machine.
The shell of the left pincer bent under the shock of her hammer, but could see the interior mechanisms and integrity were still completely fine. As the monster hissed, she growled and climbed onto it, before it could move its appendix. Her array fired again, aiming at the creature’s low head, and it was assailed by the other Automata. Alas, the legion’s machines could do little when even their Primarch’s strength was only sufficient to dent its exterior, their hammers clanging with sound but no damage. The Engine shrieked and spun on its feet, sweeping the footing of the Domitars with its armored tail, almost shaking Petra off of its great body.
The Breaker of Stone jumped, landing her hammer onto the machine’s head, keeping its optics away from herself. The Automata had started to stand up, some of them already trying again to impair the Daemon Engine. The Scorpion managed to snatch the shield arm of one of the Domitars into its pincers, immediately starting to grind it, then using its second arm to crush its body, neutralizing it into a cloud of sparks and noises of bent iron.
A volley of missiles exploded onto its body, making it stumble a step or two. Petra’s Tyrant Siege Terminator squad had established a perimeter around them, alongside three Devastation squads of Space Marines armed to the teeth. The Lady of Iron used the opportunity, clasping her two hands around her hammer, and smashed the face of it onto the mechanical head, cracking the glass of its baleful eye.
Letting one hand on her weapon go, she shoved her fist into the eye, fully shattering it and grasping at cables, opened fire eight times, before pulling the sparkling fiber out. The creature’s feet skittered and scraped onto the ground, flailing as well as it could with its weakening strength under the hands of the Primarch and the shields of the Automata pressing against its body.
Her soldiers approached slowly, step by step and always keeping their visors onto the fallen beast. It stopped moving. Petra allowed herself a breath, before turning to her sons. The Terminator and the Devastation squads were meticulously reloading their weapons, while her tactical squads surveyed the corridors they arrived through, one of them moving further in the dark halls of the Forge World.
When her Marines were ready, she nodded a signal to her soldiers, and they moved forward. Not even five steps were made when she turned on her heels, hearing a sound from behind her.
[The. Beast. Sings].
Three words that echoed into the large, empty hall. Her blood curled hearing it. This wasn’t normal speech. She had mechanically translated it, only understanding what the means of transmission was after hearing the full sentence.
[The. Beast. Sings].
Scrap-code.The Chaos speech reserved for the machines. An odious parody of the already-nonsensical Lingua Technis in usage within the Cult of Mars. And the carcass was speaking it. She activated the Logos’ system used to communicate orders to the Automata accompanying them.
“Killswitch protocol, immediate deactivation”. She commanded, not willing to even let a chance at her Automatas being corrupted. The Iron Warriors moved to surround the legion’s Iron Circle, carefully laying them down and locking their joints.
[The Beast sings]. It was continuously psalmoding, like a broken disc, accelerating. [The Beast sings The Beast sings The Beast sings The Beast sings]- until she put her hands on its neck, her fingers slowly bending the metal, and she pulled at it until the head was separated from the neck in a horrible noise of brass. Petra switched her comms to contact the scouting unit sent forward.
“Watch out for any signal of chaotic machines, warn us at any movement”. She turned to the corridors that had been used by some of the Techpriests that had ambushed them, eyeing the corpses with disgust.
They had all been chanting the same fucking thing. The Beast sings. What even was the beast? She had first encountered this name on another forge world, where some of her Warriors had been hunted by a strange Warp Machine. It had disappeared moments before she arrived on site herself, and she had stored it away in her memories, until it resurfaced some time later on another planet, another corrupted cult dedicated to the Dark Mechanicum. And another time, it had fled an hour before she had reached the deployment zone.
At first, the writings had been about “The Beast wakes”. Then, “The Beast writhes”. “The Beast forges”, all in Scrap-code, again and again. Until they came here, to the Forge Worlds of the moons of Cercantyle, themselves orbiting around a planet that had fallen to the corruption and whispers of the Warp.
Vibrations. Noises. Explosions.
She turned her head toward the sound, raising one of her Bolt array in overwatch, but didn’t see anything. She didn’t see anything other than her Marines, prudently observing the source of the noise.
“Squad Iota, what is your status?”
No answer came back. She motioned to her Terminators, who placed themselves forward and raised their weapons.
“Squad Iota, respond”. Her answer was the same as for her first question. “We probably lost them. Squad Alpha and Beta, watch over the corridor. Squad Gamma to Epsilon, survey the other entries. I don’t want any surprises”.
She accessed a cogitator, trying to see if she could garner any information from the eight-point covered machine, growling when she saw all was written in Scrap-code too. Fucking lunatics, even more annoying the the “normal” Mechanicum cultists.
Large arrivals of metal, used for weaponry and vehicle propulsors. Well, alongside daemons that were used by the warped tech priests to inhabit those machines. Copious amounts of fuel, menial slaves and engineers had been brought here. She felt a chill creep up her spine. Petra raised her eyes from the cogitator, definitely weirded out. Because it was a familiar feeling. But not the same. Unnatural.
Again, vibrations, noises, explosions. This time so much closer, almost detonating where her squads Alpha and Beta were standing. “Form up!”, “Ambush!” She could hear her soldiers shout, spreading out to avoid cluster explosions, and moving into covers behind ruined machines and skull-decorated wall fragments. The Tyrant Siege squad was the first line, having survived the blast with little to no injuries thanks to the more robust Cataphractii armors.
Her helmet’s visors didn’t show her any movement coming from the corridors. Petra ran diagnostics seeing the shapes of the explosions on the ground, approaching her troops. The screens showed her trajectory probabilities, drawing predictions and attempting to locate the enemy’s position. She raised her eyes, just before one of squad Delta’s marine shouted “Contact! Above!”
There it was. A massive construct of plasteel, ceramite, and armaplas, exiting from a higher-level hallway, reactors spewing out warp-fire.
It was pristine.
Unlike the Daemon Engines and chaos machines she had destroyed and taken apart, it showed no decorations in honor to the Chaos Gods, no brass or gold trims organized in spikes and curves. No, this one was slick, almost T’au like in appearance, but with definitive elements of Imperial structure. The silver metal of its hull was reflecting lights.
A humanoid body about twice her size made up the centerpiece of it, a large construct latched onto its back, and a large ring circled around the main body. Multiple cannons on the back, three-gatling guns onto each arm, and Petra could even see it was shielded by technology akin to Iron Halos. A weapon of war that saw no surrender, no end to its decimation. The blood-red shining eyes fixated solely upon her.
The Beast was hovering above them, imitating what Space Marines had been called, and Angel of Death. And the Beast sang.
It opened fire on her troops and her, six gatling guns rotating and ejecting shells by the hundreds in a few seconds, and five of her sons fell before they could put their shields in a carapace to protect themselves from the projectiles. Her Terminators responded in the same way, hardly bothered by the bullets raining down on them and shouldering Combi-Bolter, the deafening noise of their weapons adding to the cacophony that the Beast was already composing.
It was fast. When her Tyrant Siege squad added their missiles to the exchange, it seemed to reave through the air as a broadsword, moving out of the way of the projectiles, never ceasing to shoot, and worse, beginning to circle around the less protected Tactical Marines, pinning them down, its traits piercing through the gray ceramite, again and again. Petra’s Bolt Arrays were shooting non-stop, her Logos calculating and predicting the movements of the flying machine, but her munitions were crushed against the Force-Field deployed around it.
“Get to cover! Use the corridors to hide yourself!” Petra ordered her troops, placing herself away from the eyes of the machine while using the Logos’ systems to reboot the Automata. Even though they were mostly equipped for close quarter combat, she had conceived the Olympia Bolt Cannon to arm them in addition to their bodyguard abilities she now used as first battle ranks, shielding her soldiers.
Thanks to her Trinket, always one to bring any advantage to their side in negotiations, she had had far enough to experiment multiple formations, and was satisfied with the weaponry they were now using - if the Iron Warriors were able to bring the Beast to the ground, they would fall upon it with their Graviton mauls.
For now, she unlocked the joints, and restarted their systems, the chest light flaring up green. One of the red eyes of the flying construct lowered to look at them, and immediately after, directed one of his arms in the same direction, the three gatlings starting to spin again, landing some hits that scratched their surfaces, resulting in one of the Domitar-Ferrum having a chestplate opened, and a pauldron bent under the heavy fire before it could raise its shield.
Did it have an unlimited amount of ammunition? Urgh, it had probably far enough to wage battle against them for hours on end, and they were currently engaged in a Forge-world. It could fly away any moment, and find some station to re-arm itself.
Petra opened her comms, directing her soldiers directly to always harass the Beast, forming into firing patterns as three squads gained altitude in the maze that was the architecture of the Forge-World. She counted. Eleven soldiers had been lost. Five were also injured - though not gravely enough that they had to stop fighting. A glance at the damaged automata let her know that it could still be pushed to fight, and could endure more damage. She opened cover fire to move herself, approaching her soldiers so that she would not be stuck in the middle of an open-space.
“Phase Four, Hammer Protocol”, she ordered on the Logos, and her soldiers moved as well as they could to accomplish their missions. Every single trigger belonging to a soldier under her command was pulled into a deafening noise that echoed into the large hall, lights of tracer fire producing a continued source of radiance that she wouldn’t even need the night vision provided by her helmet.
Even though the Conversion field around the Beast was sparkling, progressively advancing to the point where it would need to be deactivated to not overload, it was reaching it far too slowly for Petra’s taste. Frustration was building up faster in her.
Some movement in the construct made her change her focus, as she tried to identify why it was moving the way it did. The gatling guns on its right arm had folded back into the back construct part, and now it was a long, thin and rectangular armament that was attached to its arm. And aimed at her. A glance at it indicated her it was warped T’au technology, modified to be usable alongside those demonic systems. She felt a cold sweat immediately.
Mass launcher. Heavy Rail Cannon.
Petra stepped away in a blink, unsure even her armor would be perfectly safe from a weapon like that, a single instant later the place she had been in was shot at.
Light. Noise.
Silence.
A Warrior behind her had been less lucky, its upper body part simply erased by the projectile’s impact, which didn’t even explode.
It had penetrated into the metallic ground, dug deep until the meager warning lights of the hall couldn’t shed shine onto it. The body of her Marine fell onto the ground, blood finally flowing out as though it had briefly not realized it had been killed.
She processed it into the back of her mind, running to find some cover that would hide her from the weapon. It seemed however that the Daemon Engine didn’t have in mind to continue using its Rail Cannon, and started to rise, floating higher. She had another bad feeling. And she was rarely wrong on such occasions. It put away the arms that were latched onto its arms, and extended its hands forward.
Something started to roll on the horizontal ring, and exited the top of the back construct in the same way, stopping halfway, above the Beast’s head. Multiple dots of red upon light-gray surface, and Petra already knew it was multiple missile pod systems.
“Find cover!” she heard one of her soldiers scream out. Petra ordered the Domitars to defend the Marines that weren’t equipped with Boarding Shields like her Breacher Squads. Noises like pings emitted by the Machine started to rise, accelerating in tempo and volume.
It brought its hands downwards, a conductor's movement. The orchestra, a symphony of technological-brought death, began.
The Beast sings.
The sounds of their thrusters weren’t the one she was used to hearing from missiles in flight, no, it was far worse. Whispers, murmurs, talks, shouts, wails, screeches, howling. The noises each projectile was making were separate voices of pain and suffering, or shrieks of rage and anger.
A choir that the Beast was directing, the missiles following his hands, cues and downbeats, the screaming and bellows harmonizing to form a music that would be beautiful, if it weren’t so haunting, dangerous and in such an inopportune moment.
Petra locked her armor completely, focusing on defending against the missiles that were going for her. She recognized it. She crouched, protecting her head with her arms, and the noises of all missiles exploding at the same time, a fortississimo overbearing on her ears, and the shaking was the same as being just beside a Titan Ordnance weapon firing.
The instant she was safe, running diagnostic operations on the Logos integrity, she forced herself to move despite the shock she was feeling. Not just physical. The music It had imitated before the missiles exploded. She knew it perfectly. From its start, to the Da Capo, to its end and crescendo, with every single note in between.
Because she knew the composer. Because she was beside him when he composed. Because HE composed FOR HER. Because it was Trinket’s piece. A horrible, abominable parody, spitting on every musical pattern and expression he spent days and nights writing while she was drawing architectural blueprints and building dioramas of the multiple Olympia’s cities they oversaw reconstruction of.
The shared name of Elysia, the location of their planned Forever Home, and of the hymn they had decided on.
And nothing was making her more mad than the twisted parody of her favorite music, turned into something so… She didn’t even find the words for the utter disgust she was going through. Nor for her anger.
“Cover me! Switch back to Phase three, Protocol Nemea!”
Petra exited the smoke left by the detonation after shouting her order, and went straight for the broken corpse of the Brass Scorpion, teeth clenched. Hearing the weapons of her sons firing behind her, she swore she would destroy that thing, and free Trinket from its grasp. She had not a single doubt he was in it. Being the core of the Beast. She caught the tail of the machine monster, and dragged it to turn the Demolisher cannon that formed its parody of a mouth in the direction of Trinket’s prison.
Using the commanding functions of the Logos, she connected to the machine’s body, bluntly deleting every piece of Scrap-Code that she could, as the chaotic construct was off for now, and when she was done, she booted the firing systems up.
She was hearing the roaring of the Beast’s gatling guns, firing ceaselessly to kill her sons, the crackling noise of Boarding Shields and Karceri Shields as the hailing rain of bullets was caught against their power fields.
Petra’s will, translated into cybernetics commands, made the legs of the Scorpion skitter and rise, angling its maw at the flier. After a few seconds loading, and preparing the weapon, the Scorpion opened fire, crossing the distance between source and target in barely a breath. The noise of the detonation echoed the same as the missiles the Beast had previously fired in its orchestral volleys.
The flying machine trembled, the iron halo’s field crackling, turning on and off until it finally shut down.
“Now!” Petra shouted to her Warriors. “Engage Phase five, suppressing fire!” Exiting their covers, most of her Marines aimed and opened fire at the Engine. She aimed at its reactors when it showed its back to her, shooting with all eight of her shrapnel bolt array. As it lowered slightly, she calculated her odds. Satisfied, she started running toward it, accelerating to some of the fastest speeds she had reached on her feet, motivation and desperation both pumping fire into her veins of iron.
Using the ruined machinery that strewed the ground, she gained elevation, and fully jumped to catch on the ring surrounding the core construct. Its three eyes looked at her, and Petra could swear she could see them burning in hatred. It tried to aim its gatling at her, but she moved faster, opening fire without restraint straight at its arm, a barrage of bolts that started to tear through the weaknesses in the metal that she saw.
Unable to fly correctly anymore, the Beast lowered even more, to the point where the Automata, coming running at it, could extend their hammers to latch on the ring and body, pinning it down. Petra let go of the outer ring, and walked straight toward the core unit, ignoring the warnings that one of her sergeants was directing to her.
She couldn’t hear anything over a ringing in her ears suspiciously resembling the melody of Elysia.
She finally reached it, extending her hand toward its head, and ripped it off without a care, watching with satisfaction as the three-eyed lights faded from the optics. She tossed it aside. Under her awaiting hands was the gesticulating body of an iron maiden that jailed the person she wanted to see most.
Weaknesses.
In the frame, in the ossature, in the hull. She reached and grasped, and bent, and pulled, and tore, destroying the malignant thing bit by bit, piece by piece, seeing her soldiers in the corner of her eyes, but not registering anything other than the slowly opening torso of the machine.
Finally.
Finally.
Finally, she ripped open the cockpit, to be met with such a cherished and such a haunted sight. Her Velvet Glove. Her Trinket.
Finally.
“FeFe…” she whispered. She could feel her eyes water behind the iron skull of her helmet.
It was an abominable sight. Everything was him. Nothing was his. As the song, it was a parody of who he was.
It was his hair: white and in long locks. It wasn’t: oily, greasy and unkempt.
It was his body: olive skin and the same scars as she remembered. It wasn’t: skeletal, gaunt, emaciated and hollow. Ribs almost piercing out from under his naked dry skin.
It was his eyes, the same turquoise, the same golden decoration he had asked her to graft under the left one to mask one scar he had there. It wasn’t: there were no lights in those glassy and foggy balls, and the gold was tarnished, rusted.
His lips were parched and scarred, his eyelids scratched, and she was trembling seeing the sight.
He was missing an arm, cables and wires directly plugged into his torn flesh.
A ruined enveloppe.
A single terminal was held in his sickly thin fingers, showing characters writing on a loop. Two words. It wasn’t Scrap-Code, nor was it Lingua-Technis, nor even was it Gothic, be it low or high. No, it was their native tongue of Olympia.
Two words, repeating on a loop like a mad chant line after line.
Σκότωσέ με.
Kill me.
Kill me.
Kill me.
Kill me.
Kill me.
Petra slowly reached to her helmet, its hissing pops signaling the depressurization. She removed it, her braided lock falling onto her shoulder as she put it aside.
“No”.
She reached toward him, cupping his cheek in her gauntlet, as large as his head, not applying any bit of force. Her hand was trembling. She pulled his body from the machine’s carcass, carefully disconnecting the cables thanks to the Logos’ programming properties. She cradled his broken, shattered form in her arms like carrying a newborn. She could barely feel his heartbeat. Her vision of him was riddled in weaknesses that usually inhabited her vision, so, so many onto his form.
She tilted to whisper in his ear.
“I’m bringing you back home. We’ll go together. Do you remember, FeFe? To Elysia”.
She almost broke down when she saw a sign of recognition on his part when he heard that name. Just slightly, almost imperceptible, his eyes widened.
A Spark.

Idk if any of the game creators read through the reddit sub but I wanted to share some ideas in case they do :P -Horns (for fantasy themes or demons) -Different types of tails (again for fantasy themes and demons, animals maybe too) -Fishnet gloves, ik there's a pattern that resembles fishnets but for gloves it would be better to have an unique model -Hair: box braids, mullet, wolf cut, Y2K pigtails (spikey and half-up) -1 or 2 strawberry patterns, a cherry pattern -This isn't an item but a short info-box text to explain difficult themes for example Acubi or rococo -Star jewelery (this one I just wish for bc I like stars lol) This is ofc just suggestions and some of it is just personal wishes. Might update this post if I get any other ideas ^{^}

I feel so dumb haha. I used to buy into the hand flapping stereotype and I used to think oh I don’t stim! Because black and white thinking (lol) I don’t LITERALLY flap my hands or rock forward and back…
Except:

• twisty wrist thing 24/7
  
• can’t stop biting nails/skin/cheeks/lips
  
• touching all my fingers to my thumb in a pattern
  
• the nose twitch thing
  
• rocking side to side (rather than back and forth so I assumed it wasn’t the same thing 🤦‍♀️)
  
• pulling, twisting, braiding and unbraiding hair
  
• legs constantly bouncing and can’t sit properly in a seat
  
• walking on the sides of my feet rather than on tip toe
  

The list goes on and on. What non-stereotypical stims did you only realize later counted as stimming?

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Memory Transcription Subject: Hileen, Krakotl Fugitive Recovery Agent
Date [standardized human time]: November 28th, 2136
It'd been a while since I sat in Marlig's office for a talk face-to-face. Given the agency's secluded location at the edge of the downtown region, it was a chore to drop by when it wasn't for business, but I'd deemed the matter at hand to be worth my time.
I passed by Nampi at her desk on my way to the door and she gave me a coy glare as I carried on. Trying to ignore her risible ear waggle, I turned the corner to the door with my boss’s name painted on the glass panel where I could hear the frantic crumpling of paper.
Quietly, I entered Marlig's office without prompt as I knew he hated to be spooked by knocking. My mentor was surprisingly spry for a bird at his age, sorting through papers with one wing and an eye while using his talons with the other to set away the papers he had splayed out.
“Hileen!” he chirped. “Glad you could make it in today. I was just finishing up my paperwork. Take a seat.”
It was always nice to hear him drop the professional motif for a more grandfatherly attitude when speaking in person. I did as he suggested and took a seat while he grumbled to himself over the sorting. My eye caught a few of the old contracts he was rifling through and saw that some dated back to his days as an agent.
Eventually, he left some sitting out as he sequestered the rest back into their files, sorted by a dichotomy that only he and Nampi could comprehend fully. He motioned with a wing for me to peruse and I turned the first one to face me to find it was my first contract, signed by me in a sloppy fashion. “This takes me back a couple of years.”
“Slick bastard thought he could get away on a forklift but you showed him! Certainly more exciting than my first day!”
“Mm-hmm. And it was when I nearly got impaled that you had the idea to commission all of us utility vests.”
He chuckled, “I really should’ve done so sooner. Cuts and scratches were already a risk, but a forklift was a new one!”
I flipped through the pages of each report, finding that Marlig's notes were filled with praises of my work. There were highs and lows, but I was flattered to find that the grizzled krakotl held my performance in such high regard.
“Flawless interception!” read one footnote about me catching a runner. “Couldn't have done it better myself!”
Marlig waited patiently as I browsed quickly through each page, realizing more and more how the notes also marked improvements in my work. How I found it easier to talk down a rowdy client, or apprehend them in the case that they were beyond helping on my part. Flowery language plastered most pages with him fawning over my work as a doting father would to his prodigal child.
The trend took a sharp turn as the notes became fewer and more critical the closer the dates reached to the present. I brushed the others aside with a wing to peruse the final paper. “And this…”
“Is Tac. Your latest contract. The most recent in a line of declining performance since the interview. This has become a pattern, Hileen, and its consequences are beginning to reach beyond yourself. Paji and Vesek resigned recently for personal reasons, which leaves us even less hands on deck than before. That's four people to cover the entire municipal region, and maybe even beyond, should needs arise. Three, if we include this little probation I have you on.”
“What was I supposed to do? Marlig, these ‘jobs’ you've got us working on overstep the contracts we were signed on with. Our job is to make sure people obey their court-mandated duties, not drag them off to the facilities ourselves!”
“... So the trip we took to the facilities did bother you.”
A sigh clicked in my throat as he reminded me. “Is that what happens to the people we take in, Marlig? Is that what would've happened to your wife?”
His feathers ruffled.
“That's what happens to those who are too dangerous to the general public to be left roaming free. Not everyone we deal with winds up there, but everyone can be subject to it. Miskela sued for her exoneration and proved in court that she was not diseased. I brought you there to show you how it helps the people, but I see now that it was a mistake. I understand why you were so perturbed, really, but it's how things have been for centuries. It's how we've protected ourselves from the dangers out there.”
“You were willing to let Barsul be interned there, too.”
Marlig flinched and sighed as he swept the papers towards himself once I'd signaled I was done. He turned one eye to me while he sorted them.
“There's no room for favoritism, girl. I negotiated for him to be allowed to walk free, and look where that got me. That boy - your neighbor - suffered the consequences of my nepotism. So too would the girl, had nobody intervened.”
“Like Richard.”
“The human, yes. Or you. Or the police. Where does this sudden obsession with humans come from, anyway? I get notifications of you talking about the acceptance of them all the time on forums.”
“Does it even need explaining?”
“Well, I guess not, no, but it's certainly an about-face from the way you used to talk about them with me beforehand.”
“People can change, for better or worse. Which one I fall under remains to be seen.”
Marlig stroked at the plumage on his neck as he finished his sorting. “I hope it's the former, for your sake. Was there any reason you came to talk, or were you just checking that I hadn't gone senile?”
“Well, I was hoping to borrow your secretary for the evening.”
He perked up while his eyes narrowed and he laced his fingers together with curiosity. “You… want to spend an evening with Nampi?”
“It's not what you're insinuating, but yes.”
“I was insinuating nothing,” he warbled coyly. “Go ahead and take her, and make sure to split the bill at dinner.”
“Pain-in-the-ass geezer. I'll keep in touch if your friend causes any more trouble.”
“Keep in touch regardless. Miskela and I get lonely in our old age,” he called back. “Take care.”
I stepped out into the hallway and turned toward the desk where I could hear the secretary's claws tapping furtively at her keyboard. Nampi sat silently with her ears and tail in a relaxed position that implied a bored demeanor. There was barely any response as I stood before her, waiting politely for her acknowledgment that never came.
Hesitantly, I cleared my throat.
An ear raised in acknowledgement, but her focus remained on the screen of her computer. “Mhm?”
“Do you…?”
Her ear rotated toward me, though she still maintained a passive attitude as she continued to glare mindlessly at the monitor.
“Are you free this evening?”
“Well, I'm quite booked, I believe. Why do you ask?”
I was surprised at her curt, dry tone. She hadn't spoken with me like this since we first got to know one another.
“Well,” I started. “I realized something. Every time we went out, whether it was clubbing, or dinner, or even walking around the parks, you always footed the bill. And so…”
Slowly, her other ear perked up and I saw her keystrokes slow down as she listened in.
“I wanted to return the favor?”
Her lips smacked as she opened her mouth, though paused before she spoke. “How could you possibly do that?”
“With a little gesture of friendship.”
Nampi's horizontal pupil turned up toward me and her tail twitched.
I continued, “So that belt you're wearing? It's the same belt you've worn since we first met. And I know you're the pragmatic type who'd never spend a credit more than she needs to, except for all the times you do"- her ears twitched in indignance -"I wanted to see about getting you a little something… extra?”
Her paws raised from the keyboard and she leaned in, resting her snout on her palms. “Go on.”
The bubbly venlil's tail sold out her collected facade as it twitched with anticipation. She was cornered and she didn't even know it yet.
“Well, I found just the place on the other side of town where we can start. It's a place almost as rich and indulgent as yourself.”
“The Platinum Paw? I mean3”
Her ears folded back in embarrassment as she cracked. She wasn't cut out for acting anyway.
“So that's what it's called! Jeez, I couldn't for the life of me figure out what it was called. Now what do you say? We go over there and find you something nice—”
I hadn’t even finished my thought before Nampi had grabbed her bag and was out the door, giving me a playful tail flick that said come and get me.

The place I suggested was in a shopping center on the opposite side of town, though easily accessible because of its proximity to the transport rails. Nampi had insisted on grabbing something to eat beforehand and so now gleefully bit into a bundle of stalks that had been “grilled” as explained from the food truck we'd stopped at.
Her tail flicked back and forth with her usual enthusiasm as we entered the massive complex of stores. The roofless plan allowed the natural, orange sun to flood the upper levels while artificial lighting illuminated the ground level wherever the light couldn't reach.
The place was built in the last decade by the previous City Magister in a bid for popularity, though ultimately for naught as he would lose the vote following a scandal involving an iftali priestess and a carved bar of soap. I had to say that despite being sick in the head, he sure had a great sense of decor.
Nampi snacked away, joining me in admiring the scenery as we continued to the place I’d planned out for us. Aimless chatter all melded together into a single, thrumming murmur as pedestrians navigated the many levels and stores offered in the place.
A troupe of children passed by us, held in a chain of tails and arms as they were escorted by a pair of venlil who I assumed were students and teachers on a school trip. I caught a whiff of a sweet, aromatic breeze and found it to come from a perfume shop on the same level as us; naturally, venlil were not to be found inside.
We passed a fountain where a couple sat on the edge, their tails twined together as they giggled and flirted. I turned and caught Nampi watching them as well, though she awkwardly returned to sucking the remains of her meal from her claws when we made eye contact. Her ears lifted when I raised a wing to signal to the store we were going to stop at first.
“Platinum Paw, The Greatest Fashion Emporium For Everyone!”
The title alone was painfully cliche, taken to the tenth power by the brightly lit store taking up three department slots. Despite the flashy exterior, though, it was the best place to shop for belts, brooches, and bracelets alike. Customers who looked like they earned my yearly salary in a week browsed the higher end brands while I brought my friend to the section I wanted to show her.
Her ears were held up as we stood together next to a shelf chock full of fashionable bags and bandoliers of every variety.
“Pick one,” I told her.
Nampi's ears shot to a straight pose in surprise, “Any?”
“Within reason. I've got a few extra credits to blow and I know nobody better to spend it on.”
With an inviting headtilt, I let Nampi peruse the shelves at her leisure. Her lips pursed together and her tail flicked with glee as she fingered at every piece that caught her eye. I chuckled at her outburst of enthusiasm while turning to find my own items to gloss over.
A breeze from outside nipped at my beak while I considered what I’d like to purchase. The place dripped with an atmosphere of faux hospitality, from the bright blue-stained floorboards to the radio prattling off advertisements in a sickeningly sweet tone to the faint, fruity aroma of scented cleaner. It was oppressive as only a fissan-owned company could be to the senses.
What I wouldn’t pay to see how a human would fare in such an environment.
I knew they were social creatures at least, but I had no doubt that the predatory senses of a human, so honed to hunting, would get overstimulated in this center of gaudy indulgence. Knowing I was something of a predator myself made me sympathize provided that even I had to squint to keep the pale lights inside from searing my eyes. I could only imagine how the arboreal eyes of a Terran would fare. I was so lost in thought imagining how lost the Terrans would be that I could almost ignore the obnoxious giggling and metallic rattling coming from behind me.
Risking a peek at the source, into my sight came a pair of venlil, one a male carrying a pair of bags as well as a couple more strapped to his belt. The bored expression in his eyes was not one of a man who was in high spirits. The other venlil was a woman who was the source of the noise.
Her mottled gray pelt was accented by a tasteful belt design, free of almost any practical functions but not flashy or excessive in garnishment either. At least, that’s what I would say, were it not for the braid of beads that dangled on the belt, jingling with each bounce of the lively woman’s stride. It was clear that such a gaudy accessory was intended to draw attention to her, though why was a mystery. Certainly, the shiny braids seemed designed as decoration first and practical second.
She turned about and I faced back to my browsing before she could catch me staring. Nampi was nowhere in sight, though I figured she was somewhere behind the shelf, sifting through every accessory on the section I'd suggested.
Clink.
Something pelted to my immediate right. I tilted my head to spot a tree nut shell clattering to the floor. Without being able to guess where it came from, I had to wonder what could've launched it over this way. Even with my keen eyesight, nobody in the crowd seemed to be a suspect.
Clink.
Another shell pelted my vicinity, ricocheting off of the floor and hitting the shelf I was standing next to. I ruffled my feathers in frustration - clearly, someone was trying to get my attention, though I couldn't make out who it was. Out of the corner of my vision, the woman from before eyed me curiously as I looked about, though I wasn't interested in engaging with her.
Thwack.
One more shell came flying and, unfortunately, the aim on this one was true, nailing me on the beak. Irritated, I stormed out of the store to find the source of the instigator. I scanned over the bodies to find anyone who could've been responsible for this indignity, eventually concluding that it came from the dining area across the walkway.
Whoever was responsible was in for an earful and I was already structuring which of the offender's family members would be acceptable as fodder for stray words. As I approached, I found the tables were mostly empty save for one, which made my heart begin to drop as I met eyes with the only occupant. Suddenly, I was much less inclined to hurl insults.
“Oh, hi there!” Qitel called out in a sickly sweet tone. “Come, take a seat! We have much to discuss!”
The Exterminator clutched a bag of tree nuts in his claws, a pile of discarded shells already gathered on the table next to him. He grabbed another as I approached, effortlessly prying the shell in half between two claws and tossed the contents into his mouth. “Good protein, these,” he commented as I sat down.
“Must be for that good arm you've got there,” I mumbled. I caught sight of a couple of bags beneath his chair, seemingly from one of the tech stores contained within the center.
“Bah, it's guesswork. So how are you? I haven't heard from you since we worked together!”
“I was just spending time with a friend, shopping and enjoying my time off.”
“Your time off? Oh, am I interrupting something?”
His snide tone irked me, though now wasn’t the time for interjections. “You are, Qitel,” I replied with no shortage of vitriol in my tone. “But I see no harm in chatting for a bit.”
“Good, because I have some merchandise”- he reached into his belt pocket and deposited a couple of items onto the table -“and you’re just the person to look into it, human sympathizer.”
I drew a terse breath in shock, but my worries were quelled when I considered that if Qitel had the power to do anything about it, he would’ve done so instead of approaching me so discreetly. A glance down at the item on the table showed that he was presenting what looked to be a tracker as well as a personal drive. “Found in the garbage,” he told me.
“The guild resorts to dumpster diving when they already have such a bloated budget now?”
“No, featherbrain, I have decided to keep this for myself. These items were found together, sealed in a plastic pouch, and placed in a garbage bin. The city has bans against electronics being placed into public bins, and so I was curious why this wound up in there. Managed to get my coworker, a techie, to crack it open and…”
Qitel reached into his belt again, glowering at me with the same condescending gaze he’d given me when I first saw his face. He seemed to revel in digging for the item as slowly as possible to waste my time. Finally, he found whatever he was looking for and revealed it as a printed piece of paper, folded into eighths. The snobby yotul threw the unfurled paper on the table and rolled it toward me.
I craned my neck to look at the parchment, though I was immediately perplexed by the text on it; it appeared to be some sort of form, going by the boxes with words on the inside, followed by blank lines. “Found on the drive, here,” Qitel told me, jabbing a claw to the storage. “Translator shows it as Terran writing.”
Drawing my holopad from my satchel, I held it over the paper with the translator to get an understanding. Surely enough, the language on it came up positive as a variant of Terran writing and I was affirmed in it being a form of some sort based on the wording of the text. The boxes seemed like an odd sort of job application, asking for the typical name, contacts, and prior work experiences, but quickly took a strange turn as it began asking for where their home on Earth was prior to arrival, what family they had on Venlil Prime if any, and where they worked, implying that they were seeking individuals who were already employed.
I knew little about human employment methods, but I didn’t imagine that sourcing individuals from other jobs was the most efficient way to gain a workforce. Terran service industries already dotted the planet while many humans also found work in local environments. So what was the angle that the creator of this application was going for?
Most concerningly was that the paper had no insignia, identifying marks, or noted address to return the form to. “And where did you find it again?”
“In the garbage, alongside this intact tracker that was activated at the time of recovery. Y’know, when I was dumpster diving. Text on the document showed it was addressed to one ‘Choctaw Nexus’.”
“A pseudonym of some sort?”
“Clearly. Short sorting through the archives shows the first name traces back to the group out east - perhaps you've heard about them. How the name and the items we have here are connected is beyond my understanding, but-”
“Well, this has been an absolutely riveting discussion about your collection of trash, Qitel,” I told him as I stood up to leave. “But this really sounds like an issue to be resolved by your fellow guildsmen.”
The sound of another shell splitting rang out as I turned away.
“I'm not through talking with you, predator.”
The sting as a piece nailed me in the back of the head prompted me to whirl back around, sticking my beak in the insolent yotul's snout. “Perhaps you've forgotten, little man,” I cooed in an equally bittersweet tone to the one he gave me before. “The krakotl never had a problem with settling issues the old-fashioned way before the interview. Try me and find out why I'm in the line of work I am.”
“Oh, we wouldn't want that in such a"- he waved his paw to a group of passersby who had stopped to gawk at my display -”public forum. Please, contain yourself.”
I had to force the feathers on my back to settle and I raised my head away from him. “What else is it you wanted, then?”
“Well, I'd appreciate if you took this merchandise off my paws,” he told me as he brushed the electronics and printout toward me.
“Why would I do that?”
“Because you're closer to the humans than I'd ever care to be, and may be able to find out who this Choctaw Nexus is. Something about the package just feels… off. And I know when to trust my feelings. Besides, we both know that you know where Tac is, don't we?”
“I don't-”
“We have videographic evidence that you conspired with a human - of the aforementioned squatters, no less - and let the kid escape. You're not as sneaky as you think, and if we find this ‘Choctaw Nexus’ turns out to be a bad actor that can be traced back to them - and by extension, you - well, there’d be no talking down my boss from having you dealt with. By helping me find out who this is, you may yet be able to clear your name of any wrongdoing.”
I clenched my beak tightly to maintain a straight face. Qitel stood up with a flourish and discarded the bag he was carrying in a bin.
“See, the krakotl were never special for using threats and bullying to get results. It's because you were good at killing predators,” he jeered. “Now, if you don't mind, this primitive has appointments to attend to… old lady who got trampled courtesy of the humans and all. You stay out of trouble, Hileen, and stay in touch.”
The self-assured marsupial melded into the crowd in a matter of seconds, leaving me with a table containing dumpster trophies and a pile of shells. Reluctantly, I swept the shells into my wing and dumped them into the bin before gathering the other two items he'd left me and stuffing them into my bag. I'd been gone from Nampi long enough and she would notice my absence before long.
Crossing the walkway again, I could spot from where I stood that Nampi was indeed still in the Platinum Paw. I approached, and soon I found that while she didn't seem to have noticed me stepping away, she was definitely in a soured mood based on the sagging of her ears and tail. With my talons clacking on the floorboards, I hustled to her side and her mood chippered up ever so slightly as she heard me approach.
I chimed in, “Find anything?”
“Everything. I want everything, Red, and I can't decide on what I want. They all just look so great!”
From behind, a voice called out, “Nampi!”
We both jumped at the exclamation and turned about to spot the venlil lady I'd seen before spring from behind the shelf. The man poked his head from behind the shelf too, though less enthusiastically and with yet another bag in his clutches. My friend's eyes widened in surprise with her tail and ears perking up in kind. With a light in her eyes, she exclaimed, “Nalek!”
The two embraced with shrill squeals and laughter as Nalek's accompaniment and I traded awkward glances.
“It's been too long!”
“You never stayed in contact!”
The women exchanged giddy greetings and the pompous stranger turned to me, leering over me as though she was sizing me up.
“Who's your friend here?”
“Oh she's actually my-...”
Nampi paused for a moment, looking back to me.
“Yeah, she's a friend.”
“A friend,” Nalek repeated while her eyes flicked between Nampi and I. “Right.”
Somehow, I get the impression that that was judgemental.
“I'm Hileen, by the way,” I chirped, “if names are to be exchanged.”
“Hileen, that's a lovely name! And such plumage to match, it's a wonder you aren't swarmed by suitors!”
Internally, I groaned at the notion. The idea of being approached by someone to state their interest in me made me queasy, to say the least. Thankfully, I never had that issue growing up as most of the other drakes in school were too busy chasing girls who didn't have a lousy pigmentation mutation such as myself.
“I'm flattered,” I told Nalek before turning to the man whose name had yet to be introduced. “May we get your name?”
“Sask.”
His response was succinct and tonally flat, though there was a brief silence as I expected him to elaborate. Nalek's beads jingled as she lashed him on the calf with her tail.
“I'm Sask, Nalek's fiancée,” he added, throwing her a look to see if she was satisfied.
Nampi gasped with her paws over her snout. “Fiancée! Nalek, you're getting married and you never even told me!”
“Well, I felt a little guilty since it technically broke our pact we made when we were pups. You remember that?”
“Of course! Why wouldn’t I? ‘Let she who bonds through betrothal first be cast out unto the world for all to admonish her!’”
Sask and I both gave inquisitive expressions. “You two spoke like that as pups?” Sask asked.
“Well, I'm paraphrasing,” Nampi admitted with a playful ear waggle. “But you get the gist.”
“Indeed, they do, sweet Nampi. Now, may I ask what you're doing bringing your avian friend here into this store on this fine claw?”
“Oh, no no, she's the one treating me! Isn't that right, Red?”
I saw her tail twitch and was sure it took restraint not to tickle my neck with it as we stood before her old friend.
“She's been a good friend,” I explained. “So I wanted to reverse the roles for once and treat her to something myself.”
Nampi skipped over to me and wrapped her arm around me, glancing back to her old friend. “See? We'd all be so lucky to have a… friend like her.”
“So I've witnessed. But perhaps you're a bit stuck, as I've seen you prancing up and down these aisles for a while, no? Maybe you don't know what you want?”
“Nalek, you know I've never been good about making my mind up.”
“Some things never change, you ditz. Tell you what: you and Sask go find us a seat and we can catch up all we'd like when we're not taking up aisle space, yes? So shoo! I'll help Hileen here pick one out for you!”
With a bored grunt, Sask made off with the goods he had strapped to himself, followed by Nampi who gave me one more playful tail flick before dashing off into the crowd. I looked back to the mottled snout of Nalek who watched her friend wander off with a wistful glance.
“She was my first, you know.”
“Your what now.”
“Love. Way back when we were growing from pups into young adults back in private education, we explored much together. We saw each other through a lot, including the less savory parts of finding a mate. When Nampi realized it wasn't the boys she was into, she turned to me, and I offered my hand as her stalwart companion… to a point.”
“You weren't interested in her the same way?”
“I'd grown up seeing her as a sister of sorts, so ultimately, when we split it off, we stayed close as friends and she never seemed to be bothered by it. She struggled to find others in school who had the same interests as herself, but she never fussed about it.”
Nalek's claws browsed over a set of pouched bandoliers made with intricate embroidering. “Have you two… spent the night together? Alone?”
Spiritually, I reeled from the inquiry. The whiplash from that question was equitable to being smacked by a human. “Wha- why? How's that pertinent to the subject at hand?”
“That sounds like a ‘yes’ to me,” she purred with a smug glance my way.
I didn't need to begin to list the different ways such a question was violating to our privacy, and yet this woman was treating it like a game.
“Not really your concern, ma'am.”
Nalek chuckled as she picked out one of the bandoliers and inspected it with her claws. “I'd like to think that she and I still have that old connection, despite everything. And to that end, I know that she's no slag and doesn't trust easy. To see her be so vulnerable around you and to talk so highly of someone who's clearly below her income level as a predator…”
She stretched the bandolier out to appreciate the design in its entirety.
“Well, that's something special. Here"- she foisted the accessory into my wings as I stood gobsmacked -"this just screams her name.”
“This is, like, double my budget.”
“Love don't come cheap, darling. You wanna see good things happen, sometimes you've gotta step out of your comfort zone and grasp for it!”
“I'm being lectured by a rich woman on finances.”
“It's a philosophy that goes beyond money, ‘Red.’ The humans have a saying, in their horrendously predatory nomenclature, that contains a kernel of truth: ‘you miss every shot you don't take’.”
Yep, that's definitely a human phrase.
Nalek's steely braid rattled with every flick of the tail as we proceeded through the checkout.
“You want things to change between you and her?” she continued. “Don't just wait for it to happen.”
She let the conversation rest there as we finished the purchase, possibly to let me recuperate mentally from the damage done to my account. Outside, we found our respective partners sitting at a table with Sask looking up in boredom as Nampi chatted away, though she immediately shut up and turned to me with excited flicks of her tail as she saw what I was carrying.
I held it toward her and she happily shot to her feet, effortlessly removing the tags with her claws and clipping it to her belt. Nalek clapped and waggled her tail as the giddy lady did a whirl about to let us admire the accessory. While I'd have preferred one with pockets to give it a more practical use, I decided to let Nalek have the victory as our mutual friend clearly enjoyed it.
The rest of the paw was a blur as the two friends chatted without end until Sask eventually reminded his betrothed that they had a schedule to attend to. Though Nalek offered to call us a taxi home as a gesture of kindness, I saw through her ruse to determine that she was trying to pull a fast one on me - the clever ear flick she gave as we boarded the automated vehicle sold it for me.
We sat in the seats as the vehicle took the express ride home.
Nampi cleared her throat before she spoke, “Thank you for taking some time to spend with me, I know you've had a lot less free time as of late.”
“It's a prison of my own design, if I must be honest. A feedback loop of working a job that doesn't guarantee a paycheck to pay for rent that keeps going up, and thus needing to work more.”
The venlil giggled and chided me, “You really should've stayed in university.”
“There's a lotta 'should haves’ that've led me to this point. No use wondering what could have been.”
“There's always a use for wondering what could have been, Hileen.”
She wrapped an arm around my shoulder.
“Every decision I make, I always wonder what I could've done differently that it'd have turned out better,” she explained as she waved her free paw to the sky. “It's how you grow as a person, Red.”
Her silky pelt felt heavenly in contrast to the chilly air from outside, making it hard to let her words sink in.
“You rich types seem chock full of philosophy. I wonder if I'll become a brooding orator when I get some cash to my name.”
The cab filled with laughter as we veered around the final corner to my neighborhood, as it was the closest stop. The door popped open accompanied by a chime from the drone, signaling for me to depart.
But before my talons could even hit the pavement, I felt Nampi's scrawny arms wrap around my waist and she let out a pitiful mewl again.
“You don't need to get off here,” she told me with a pouty expression. “We can spend the rest of the paw at my place.”
“I'd love it, but I need to water my plants and get the month's bills sorted before they're due. Again.”
One claw at a time, I plucked her paws from around my waist and the childish venlil conceded, giving me another ear waggle as I departed. “I'll see you tomorrow?” I asked her.
“If you still have eyes by then, then you can bet your ass!”
“I still don't gamble.”
“You'll come around to it eventually.”
I shut the door to the taxi and watched as it carted away the one venlil who I ever truly felt on the same wavelength as. Fiddling with the lock felt like more of a chore than usual at this time as I felt a little voice tugging at the back of my head.
“You miss every shot you don't take.”
The lock felt jammed as I began to jiggle it more vigorously with the electric key. Either the RFID or NFC readers were messed up, as the lock refused to accept my key. I looked up and down the street, though Nampi was now long gone for me to rescind my earlier rejection.
“Every decision I make, I wonder what I could've done differently.”
The door rattled as I grew more and more infuriated with the lock. Qitel's smug expression as he threatened me so boldly in public played back in my head, and I wondered what would've happened had I decided to go through with insulting his mother. Better yet, I wondered what could've been had I not backed down in the face of his unflinching confidence.
Bzzt. The lock rejected my key again.
“Raagh! You fucking useless hunk of junk!”
I squawked in anger and kicked against the door, careless of the consequences of having Markol back down here to admonish another of his tenants for causing a ruckus. The walls were surprisingly sturdy for how ineffective the venlil architecture looked on the surface and I reeled back in pain as my leg throbbed.
Click.
I looked to my left to see that it wasn't my door that came open, but that of the twins. The door cracked open ever so slightly, no doubt nudged by the force of my tirade and I sighed. Nobody was expected to be home at this time, with Vili being away and Luka leaving early to get a head start.
Luka had been given a stern talking-to by the landlord for allowing one of those cats into his apartment through neglect, and I was disappointed that he seemed to have not learned his lesson this time. In fact, it seemed he hadn't even thought to lock the door this time.
I took it upon myself to shut the door for him before turning back to my own apartment door. Grasping the key with one talon, I turned it ever so gently, though the lock still refused to give in.
With a bit more force, the torsion applied to the key felt as though it should've snapped it by now. Markol sure didn't waste any expense for the security for this place, doubtlessly as a result of his history in electronic security, but I wished now that he had provided a way in that didn't rely on privately sourced locks.
Considering my options as I stood trapped outside, I realized that I had never gotten around to paying for a new lock for Tadi. I'd considered contacting her to inform her that Tac had made it out of town safely, but that'd involve also telling her that her son was now in the care of humans as if that was a better outcome to her.
Stepping out front, I realized that there was one more option I hadn't considered: my window. I usually forgot to lock it after I was through letting air circulate and I was silently grateful to myself for this absentmindedness now more than ever. Sticking a foot on the threshold, I lifted myself in a way that'd allow me to have leverage to force the window open.
The window made me fight for every inch, but I felt a strange satisfaction as it slowly opened up into an entrance that I could squeeze my way through. I let out a sigh as my talons clicked against the cool floor and slid the window shut.
I laid my satchel on the couch and turned back to the door, ready to unleash my fury on the disobedient object. But as I reached for the lock to manually open the door, I noted that the lights on the RFID interface both flashed at once, blinking erratically. Red and green flickered without rhyme or reason, indicating that it was both active and inactive.
As pretty as the colors were, I now knew that Markol's locks were not as reliable as he had touted them about: typically, such would not occur unless the device was damaged deliberately, and yet nothing indicated that I'd had uninvited guests. One could pray that those cats didn't secretly know how to cobble together an ECM jammer, but my personal wager was on faulty equipment.
Settling in, I browsed my favorite soaps on the television. For what was intended to be a day of relaxation and show of affection for a friend, I found myself rather wound up over all the things that added up. Couples threw around flowery words and swooned over one another on screen as I felt the tension diffuse. My holopad rang and I turned it over to spot that Nampi was informing me that she'd arrived home safely.
>>> Feels empty here, all alone.
She made sure to drive the point home with a sticker of a venlil making a pouty expression.
Next time, I thought to myself, I'll get it right for you, Nampi.
[ First / Previous / Next ]

So, way back after season 1 came to an end, there was an actual period of time until season 2 came out. I was a kid and going crazy because there was no content. I really got into this small community of editors(?) who photoshopped Screenshots and made their own story or cool edits.
There was this one girl who made her own superheroes. One was a girl, who's whole thing was that her miraculous was based on a cheetah. (I think? The patterns were very minimalistic, but it was either a cheetah or a leopard) She also had long brown hair that I think was in a braid-ish hairstyle, but I may be remembering that part wrong. The other one was a guy. I don't remember what his miraculous was like but he was very emo and the creator shipped him with Adrien. There was one edit where they were kissing in the bushes and there was a whole video (animatic style) with the OC and the song "I'm not gay"
I have since tried finding these videos and edits, but I've had no luck so far. The videos may have been deleted, but if anyone can at least find the edits it would mean the world to me. Thanks in advance.

That’s all it was. A game.
Something my friends and I used to play during the summer when we had nothing better to do. I never expected that it would get so out of hand.
I never expected it to come back long after recovery.
To anyone reading, please don’t do what I did.
I’m putting this out there to warn people.
On that warm summer evening, we played the role of Pandora.
Except, the monsters we released were far worse than what’s told in stories.
Because stories end.
And this doesn’t.
I still remember the date. July 16, 2013. I was an upcoming senior in high school while the others were getting prepared for their freshman year of college, raving on about their majors, life plans, dorms, you get the point. The summer had been bittersweet as those months would be the last I’d see them for a while. Because of this, Anthony, Lola, Eliza, and I would spend the bulk of our time together going to festivals and various camping trips, trying to make the most out of the summer while we could. On that day, the day I wish I could forget, Eliza had run late to one of our hangouts at my place. This was odd since as an Ivy league student, she was usually early or right on time to these kind of things. Half past three, we heard her knocking on my door rapidly, which was also out of character considering that she was usually the calm one in our group. A bit worried, I hurried down the stairs with Anthony and Lola following close behind, expecting Eliza to be in hysterics due to her frantic behavior. When I opened the door, however, there she was with a bright smile on her face, her red hair getting in the way of her eyes, which were a dark green shade. She pushed her hair out of her face with one hand and held a brown box in the other, and she was bouncing up and down as she usually does when she’s about to talk about something exciting.
“You’ll never believe what I found.” Eliza’s voice could barely hold her impatience as she stepped inside and kicked her shoes off once she crossed over my threshold.
“What’s up with you today?” Anthony questioned, looking more confused than concerned now.
“I’ll show you guys in a minute. Can we go up to your room, Felix?” Eliza looked over at me with her trademark smile, knowing damn well we were all too curious to just leave that box unopened. Without a word, I led the group up to my room and shut the door after everyone had walked in. Anthony took his usual spot on my beanbag and unzipped his hoodie, which had the MSM logo sprawled across the front in big red letters. He adjusted his dark rimmed glasses and took on his usual stoic expression. Lola wore a dark blue FIT shirt, which she revealed more of when she moved her locs over her shoulder as she sat on my desk chair and wheeled over to us. As she did, the various necklaces she wore clinked against each other. Eliza herself was the smartest out of the group, and probably in the whole school as well. She had gotten accepted into multiple prestigious schools, but ultimately settled for Harvard to pursue a degree in some obscure philanthropic career. Unlike Anthony and Lola, Eliza wore her regular outfit –usually a white tank top and jeans– and sat on my bed with the box in her lap. I took a seat next to her to get a closer look.
“So what’d you find?” The others moved closer.
“Something we probably haven’t thought about for a really long time. Do you guys remember that one game we used to play in middle school? The one we made after Felix joined our class?” Eliza looked at our puzzled faces to see if we had connected the dots, but her clue didn’t seem to strike any of us with familiarity.
“After Felix joined? Didn’t we just hang out or something that weekend?” Anthony questioned.
“We did, but there was something else,” Eliza raised an eyebrow, “you guys seriously don’t remember?”
At that moment, I saw Lola’s eyes light up and a thin smile grew on her lips, something she always did whenever she was able to figure something out.
“You mean that little map game we played? Where we would go out to the woods and explore?”
Both Anthony and I seemed to have remembered as well with the mention of a ‘map game.’ I chimed in, “ yeah I remember! Every once in a while when we were all bored, we’d pick a random spot on a map to go to and explore there for a bit, right? When did we stop doing that anyways? I remember really enjoying it.”
“Well life happens,” Eliza responded to me, “but I was thinking of things to do for the rest of the summer when I suddenly remembered that game! That’s why I was so late for our meetup today, I was looking through my attic for this.” Eliza shook the box slightly and a couple things clattered around inside.
“There’s no way.” Anthony sounded like he was in disbelief.
“You mean…?” Lola sat forward in the chair. Eliza smirked, her adventurous nature creeping out as realization swept over us like a wave.
“Mhm! I found the map we used to use as well as the things we collected from our little escapades.” With that, Eliza opened the box, revealing a folded piece of paper and various trinkets scattered over the bottom of the capsule. Lola squealed with excitement and immediately snatched the box from Eliza, who simply chuckled and leaned back on the bed.
“No way! Everything’s still in here!” Lola digged through the box and placed whatever objects she found across the blanket. Anthony got up and sat at the foot of my bed, to observe our findings more closely. There was a piece of some clay pottery, some rusty springs and scraps of metal, an old digital camera, and some other random stuff I can’t recall to memory right now. Anthony picked up a spring and turned it in his palm.
“Shit man, this is from that abandoned junkyard we found in 8th grade…that feels like such a long time ago now.”
I examined the piece of pottery with Eliza looking over my shoulder. Lola picked up the digital camera.
“Do you remember where this came from?” I turned to Eliza and held up my discovery.
“No clue,” she shrugged. It must have been a while ago if even she didn’t remember. I turned the piece over and grew curious when I saw weird symbols inscribed on the inside of it. I squinted a bit, trying to discern some sort of pattern within the scribbles.
I turned to Eliza again, “hey, what do you think-”
“OH MY GOD GUYS IT STILL WORKS!” Lola’s voice went up a whole octave as she motioned to us.
The rest of us looked up as she turned the camera to face us. There were various photos we went through. All of us at lakes, museums, exploring the woods; everything we did from 7th grade until my freshman year seemed to be documented. The last photo was arguable the best and msot bittersweet. It was a picture of the whole group from a while ago. We were sitting at Eliza’s dinner table with a giant chocolate cake on the middle of it adorned with two candles shaped like the numbers one and five. Eliza was talking to me in the photo. Her hair was even more red at the time and she wore it in a braid. I looked about the same in the photo as I did then, with light brown hair, blue eyes, and freckles scattered all over my body and face. I was smiling sheepishly at Eliza. I now knew why Anthony said it was obvious I had a crush on her in 8th grade. Lola went through the most changes out of all of us. At the time in the photo, she had her hair straightened and side-swept, with a bright pink streak in her bangs. She wore clunky jewlery and a frilly skirt underneath a long tank top, leaning over the table to cut another slice of cake. All of us had birthday hats on except for Anthony, who kept his sitting on the table. He held up a peace sign staring straight into the camera with a stoic expression. He looked like a statue compared to the rest of us, who were laughing and smiling. You could tell he was having fun, though.
“Well don’t you look like a ray of sunshine,” Lola snickered as Anthony shot her a dirty look.
“At least I didn’t go through some weird scene phase in freshman year,” He smiled and watched Lola’s face, knowing she was blushing despite her dark skin which made it practically invisible. I let a laugh slip out, but quickly stifled it knowing that if I kept going it would mean death. Lola side-eyed me and continued, “I was using my creative liberty to experiment with my options as an artist,” she said with an overly-posh accent that made Eliza laugh.
“Yeah Anthony, don’t be such a downer,” Eliza teased. Anthony simply rolled his eyes and suppressed a smile to pretend like he was mad at all of us. He looked into the box and picked up the paper we left, unfolding it with a hint of excitement and curiosity. When he looked at it, only two words came out of his mouth.
“Holy shit.”
“What, what is it?” Lola tried to look at the other side of the paper, but Anthony quickly held it out of her view.
“What if I didn’t want to show you?” A smile crept onto his face. This was one of those rare moments where he’d be in the moos to joke around with us.
“Don’t be a dick bro,” I said, laughing as I went to grab for the paper. Anthony just held it up in the air and pushed me off of him and I landed on my floor. While he was distracted, though, Eliza took her chance and snatched the paper right out of his hand.
“You boys need to learn to be nice,” she warned in her jokingly stern voice as she unfolded the paper and spread it out onto my bed. We all leaned over to look.
It was a map of a couple towns including ours. There were around ten small star stickers placed on different areas on the map near the streets the four of us lived in. On the top of the map, a couple words were scrawled in black sharpie; “Pick a Place!” I could see everyone’s faces light up.
“Oh my god it’s our map!” Lola shouted and pointed to one of the stars near her street, “this was where we found that old junkyard right?”
Eliza smiled, “I remember that. It feels like such a long time ago now.” She pointed to another star, “and this is where we found that lake we made a hideout of. I still remember swimming in there in 8th grade…”
The four of us reminisced for a while, talking about where we had gone and what we did there, and how impressive it was that we didn’t get tetanus from that junkyard. After nearly an hour of conversation, Eliza asked something that made all of us stop.
“So how about it guys? Do you want to do one last round before the summer ends?”
The rest of us looked around at each other. It was clear we all wanted to do it. Eliza seemed to catch on and she nodded.
“Who wants to pick where we go?”
“How about you do the honors?” Lola suggested, motioning towards the map. “You’re the one that brought this stuff in anyways.”
Eliza raised her eyebrow but didn’t object. Without a word, she examined the map for a few minutes, then placed her finger on one spot a bit far from my house.
“How about here?”
“You think we can make it that far?” Anthony asked.
“Well, we can drive now so why not?”
“You sure there’s some type of trail we can drive on? That spot looks pretty deep in the woods”
“We can find a path to drive on for a bit then walk the rest of the way. C’mon guys, this is probably our last chance to do something like this! Felix, you can drive right?”
Eliza and the rest turned to me with a hopeful expression. I had to comply.
“Sure. No big deal, right?”
All three of them cheered and high fived each other, looking pretty excited to go on one last adventure.
“So when do we leave?” I questioned.
Eliza flashed that smile again, “right now.”
“Right now?!”
“Hell yeah,” Lola chimed in. “It shouldn’t take that long, right?”
“I guess…” Even then I felt uneasy about the whole thing. I didn’t feel prepared enough to go on some random trip into the woods. I needed to pack food, water, flashlights, I had no idea how long this was going to take. Little did I know that those things would be the least of my worries a couple hours from then. I wish I could go back and convince my 17-year-old self that it wasn’t worth it, that I should just convince my friends to stay and talk for the rest of the day. I wish Eliza had never remembered that stupid game. In a way, I’m almost mad at her for what happened, but I know it wasn’t anyones fault. We just wanted to have fun. I wish we could’ve just had fun. But God had a different plan for us. One that made me think Satan himself devised it instead. On July 16, 2013, Anthony He, Lola Smith, Eliza Landserson, and Felix Johanson went on an adventure that none of them were ready for.
Author's Note:
If you just read all of that then thank you so so so much for doing so! I'm a rookie writer, so feel free to comment any constructive criticism you might have if you have actual writing experience! This is the first silly little story I'm posting here, so I hope you enjoyed :)

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Season 10 “Days of Fury” - Episode 2 “Visiting Omen”

He had hoped for a boring day. Boring days are good at work, and Santos was already expecting to not have many of them for a while.
The first couple of days were boring, as usual- Blackriver is a small town, and the worst that had happened was Nila and Kessa making a few wellness checks after worried calls from neighbors. A couple of people in denial, a few ashamed at their own violent outbursts and a stern warning to Tamm about painting others’ properties without asking first.
This morning, however, began with an all-hands meeting. There were no meeting rooms in the office, so they made do in the general workspace room, they all stood there at the center while Keya looked them over.
“We have received a report from a neighboring city about a convoy of protestors making its way to Blackriver” she describes without tone. At this point nobody bothers interrupting.
“This convoy is comprised of approximately four hundred and seventy eight individuals of multiple species, primarily human and venlil but with operationally relevant representations of the entire spectrum of size and mobility types” her paws are behind her back, her ears focused directly ahead, her eyes centered to keep the entire team on the core of her focus “They have crossed multiple cities already, generally engaging in verbal sparring with any figure of authority, parading signs and banners denouncing all manners of authorities as well as occasionally engaging in physical altercations with officers.”
“They are also known to engage in vandalism. Though primarily aimed at exterminator and police precincts as well as public offices, they have already caused considerable collateral to others they have identified as ‘collaborators’” there’s a single heartbeat of waiting for breath before she continues “They have, however, not shown to be an incredibly organized group or one with a clear goal and objective. The convoy appears to contain only extremely emotionally charged people with no clear overarching goal.”
“We are incapable of dealing with the situation should they turn aggressive, as such we will be simply maintaining watch and relocating the populace should they become a problem.” Then, she picks up her holopad and passes it to Lunek beside her “They can only follow one path with the entire convoy, the central street, therefore I have divided it into four sectors. One of each will be assigned to a sector.”
First her ears turn to the first target “Lunek, sector one at the entrance. As the most approachable member of the precinct your task is to give an initial image of harmlessness. Do not engage first, do not take initiative against them. Ensure the members of the herd in the area are warned of their approach. If they become aggressive, retreat and focus on the escape of the herd.”
She tilts her head a little bit, turning her ears the other way “Marik, sector two. Mostly the commercial area, your task is ostensive protection to lower the chances of them initiating aggression. Whereas protection of the herd is first priority your second priority is ensuring Tenve’s Hardware Store as well as Sunbreeze Meals and Watchful Café remain capable of providing anyone whose residences become damaged.” suddenly, she turns her head entirely to face Marik “Ostensive protection means dissuasion, ensure that they know they are not under threat and as long as those specific areas are not engaged, do not provoke”
Next in her line of fire is Santos “As our human officer you will be in sector three, nearby the precinct. They are liable to become most agitated in this area and your presence may serve to calm them. You are not to engage, if deemed necessary the precinct’s materials are considered expendable, do not attempt to stop them”
“Sector four, the exit of town, will be with me to ensure that they have fully left Blackriver and will not attempt to turn back” then she tilts her ears again “Aren, you will gear up with a CCG and remain out of view range, your task will be quick emergency response should the need arise.” she then points her tail at the last three officers “Vess, your task will be to inform the herd and ensure a clear path for the convoy while Nila and Kessa will gather all of our medical supplies and set a staging area out of the convoy’s range. Organize ambulance assistance from Striped Hill and Everrain”
Then, she turns her ears around to focus each one in turn “As any attempt at aggression will end only in negative consequences, and in order to reduce the apparent levels of threat you will be unarmed. The estimated time of arrival is a third of a claw, ready yourselves and be at your post in time. Dismissed.”
“Not sure if I like or I don’t that we had the cold bastard right now” Aren says, as soon as Keya had left the room “Maybe we should move in closer when the convoy gets to sector four?”
“Probably a good idea to be nearby” Santos adds with a sigh “They might take umbrage with her demeanor, hopefully they won’t be set off too hard.”
And with silent signs of agreement all of the officers of Blackriver depart for preparations. The first ones to leave the precinct are the ones in charge of support, the two girls set off early to find someone willing to permit usage of their lawn as a possible impromptu field hospital and a little while later Aren leaves with a heavy CCG.
Slowly, the clock ticks to the appointed claw… And soon enough, Lunek can see in the distance the incoming omen of people. At first a distant line in the horizon, slowly the dark mark on the road coalesces into distinct shapes, the shapes of hundreds of vehicles slowly rolling down the road.
When the first few get close to the initial buildings of the main street, the entire convoy slows down. Their process of preparation is seemingly laborious, each vehicle houses multiple people at a time, smaller cars full to the brim, flatbeds with more people on their cargo space than can safely be contained, even buses conscripted for the effort. They carry with them signs, flags, a multitude of symbols as they dismount their vehicles and start spreading out to fill the street.
They seem to naturally form two distinct yet highly mixed groups, at its most distinctive is the pack of humans who keep a good distance from each other. But they are not alone in this group as takkan, mazic, yotul, zurulian and even drilvar form this central group. But flowing around them, not avoiding their presence but never infringing in their space is the grey mass of venlil, packed tight together, and mixed in there adding color to the monochromatic flux are krakotl, tilfish, sulean, iftali, sivkit and even a seemingly very confused duerten.
And at the very core of the moving group are their vehicles, which gently start rolling forward again as the group starts moving. Lunek simply waits, silently, by the side of the road, his ears attentively swiveling from one side to the other, expression having given way to function. Before the first of the convoy even arrives close he turns to the side, making a pointing sign with his tail. A woman who had been watching from her yard flicks her right ear and runs back inside.
He continues to wait, scanning around at all times for the presence of… Anything. The street is empty of locals when the first visitors start to alight. The convoy is loud, their symbols carry a loudness of colors and their vehicles make as much noise as they can to draw attention, but those who walk seem content in allowing their tools to speak for them, for now. Lunek tries to make sense of the banners and signs, but the messages are disparate as the group- Some speak of injustices against their people, some speak of anger at invaders, some speak of betrayal.
“Fuck off, fireman!” comes the harsh bark of a human, causing Lunek to flinch. But flinch is all he does, he simply starts walking alongside the moving convoy.
The exterminator’s attention is drawn to the details of the few people he can distinguish amongst the mass. Something tickles at his pattern-recognition but he cannot quite ascertain what for a while, until a lightly limping mazic makes her way to the edge of the mass “Want to finish the job?!” she trumpets, her form towering over his.
“I’m just observing, ma’am.” Though the tremor of his voice is noticeable, he remains stoic. But her proximity makes him notice something about her body, marks in her wrists, neck and feet. Though mazic have powerful wrists and knuckles upon which they support the front half of their weight, her left wrist seems completely incapable of it, giving her a limp particular to a three-point walk. “To make sure there’s no impediment on your path” he notices the leathery skin around her left wrist is deeply blackened.
“Oh, ‘no impediment’ is that it? So everyone that lives here is an impediment?!” her voice booms.
“Ma’am” still, he does not yield nor does he break his pace following the convoy “We have not done anything other than inform our people of your presence…” for a half second all he hears is the sound of his own heart “We can’t do anything else.”
Those words, then, sealed his fate. The first shout to echo in his direction was a yotul howling “Yeah you’re useless!” and soon the avalanche came in multiple voices and languages “Can’t do shit!” “You’re just here to hurt people!” “Useless crap!” “Idiot!” and many more.
With every step and twitch the very average exterminator puts all of his focus on just being there. He lets himself cower a little bit, against the barrage it is difficult not to, but he continues to accompany. A few curious coats step out from their houses to watch, but the front of the convoy seems far too focused on the sole exterminator in view to bother anyone else.
A few steps ahead, an older venlil with a cane has moved the closest to the convoy as any watcher has up to now. Seeing her proximity to the increasingly rowdy crowd causes Lunek to speed up, quickly approaching her “Leva-”
But his words are stalled when she puts a paw on his shoulder, she gently puts her head against his for just a second “You’re doing good pup, keep at it” she mutters to him before breaking contact and turning around to walk back inside. He can spy her grandchildren looking on through the door. Lunek looks back at the still-shouting moving convoy, takes a deep breath, and continues to accompany them forward. A small pawful of them, however, seem to have fallen silent.
Once having reached the limit of his assigned zone, however, Lunek stops. He watches the convoy move forward, past the houses, now noisier than before. The initial hollering at him had turned into disjointed screams at some indistinct foe- Though the herd had been noticed of a foe, it was yet unaware of who, or what, said foe was. So for now it howled at the ineptitude of… Someone. And as the last of the convoy passes beyond the imaginary line of his duty, Lunek lets out a deep sigh and allows himself to sit down on the ground.
He stays there for a moment, without thought, simply letting the tension, confusion and fear permeate his body until a gentle paw touches his arm. He doesn’t need to look to identify it, he lets his lover use her strength to prop him up, raising him to his feet “Keina you shouldn’t-”
“Neighbor’s looking over Tiss” his wife wraps her arms and tail around him “I’m not leaving you alone.” she stays like that for a second, before breaking off “Do you need to go after them?”
“No”
Marik stalks through the sidewalk, moving with energy. His speed outpaces the movement of the convoy, his paws twitch to grasp at something that isn’t there and a deep and intense motion makes his short fur stand on end. He had let the convoy’s head move in front of him, simply standing still as he assessed as many as he could in the mass, and now he had begun to move towards the front again.
As he stalked forward he focused his sight on every member of the convoy that seemed of interest. A human whose clothes seemed suspiciously loose, a venlil whose movements were far too stiff, a gojid who kept his claws behind his back. He stared at each like they were his quarry, analyzing every piece of movement they made for threats, and yet aside from the challenge in the human’s gaze he saw no danger arise.
Tenve had closed his shop, so as the convoy moved forward Marik simply continued to follow along, scanning the crowd for threats. But the next point of interest arrives, and he rushes ahead placing himself in front of the only restaurant of the town. Sunbreeze Meals wasn’t a very common sort of restaurant, Blackriver did not have enough visitors for a normal restaurant to be profitable and was small enough most people had their meals at home, it most often served takeout for those farmers who’d spend so long in the field they would return home without the energy to feed themselves.
Sparing a look inside at the only five tables, Marik couldn’t keep a small thought away from his mind. How most who got their meals from Sunbreeze these days did so because they enjoyed the cooking rather than their need of work, ever since the sunspeck population has been brought under control and the maintenance of the fields had become much smaller. He feels the presence long before he can recognize what led him to feel it and turns to stare at a group of six that approach the entrance: Two humans, a tilfish, two gojids and a takkan had broken off from the convoy and approached the restaurant.
He traces his color band over each in turn, and they all bristle at his stare. One of the humans hesitates before continuing to walk inside, and Marik simply remains by the door with his arms crossed, left ear twisted as far back as he could to listen to the inside.
“What have you got here?”
“W-we mostly ha-have ready ma-made meals to go or- or- Or you can look over the menu”
“There’s no need to stutter, y’know”
“So-sorry-”
“Really, after everything y’all are still with this predator crap?”
The chimes on the door echo for the second time in sequence as Marik makes his way inside. The tilfish had started to lean over the counter while the other five had arrayed themselves behind her. They all turn their attention to him as he enters, including the venlil manning the counter. Marik keeps his gaze directly on the tilfish for a few uncomfortable seconds, before looking at the man behind the counter and making a simple sign with his tail, a short vertical bob with the tip and a slow horizontal swipe. It’s meaning simple: >Safe<.
After a few seconds someone else appears from the kitchen. The tall venlil carries a large stack of plastic boxes in his arms, all of them seemingly designed to attach to themselves so as to be carried with ease. He puts them down with a resounding crash on the counter, and opens up his voice with ice “Farmer’s Pots, good meal when you’re working and can’t go home.” With each word the owner of the restaurant and main cook comes closer and closer to the tilfish, until the last “Ten credits each.”
Nobody moves for a couple of seconds, and then one of the humans steps closer and brings a holopad over to the credit reader. There’s a noise indicating payment, and then the owner raises his head and tilts it to focus his favored eye and both of his ears at the man who paid “Now,” he shifts register in his voice and the language he speaks in “fuck off” he finishes.
With no small amount of surprise the group of six retrieve the stack of packaged meals, carefully walking out and back into the convoy. Marik stays behind for a moment “Didn’t know you spoke human”
“Pup’s enamored with their languages. Of course, first greek words he learns is swearing.”
Outside, Marik stalks further ahead to the next point of interest. He moves faster than the convoy, and has time to move in front of it. For a few meters the street is still clear as he arrives to find a group of people standing in front of the Watchful. Standing there were all of its employees, and even all of its regulars, twenty people total standing there as if they were having the most normal day. If not for their raised ears tracking every noise coming from down the street and their swaying tails swinging about like angry beasts.
One of them simply points his tail at the other side of the street as Marik comes closer, and the hunter doesn’t need a second command to understand the meaning. They have this, he has a less practical but just as important duty. He crosses the street quickly before the convoy starts coming closer, and heads towards the park.
As the regulars of the Watchful had feared, it took little time until a large group had broken off from the convoy. With the town on alert about the convoy they had found themselves bereft of prey and now this group had set out to find some, anyone who might be willing, or not, to listen to their grievances. And what is clearly a place designed for people to congregate looked most appetizing.
Marik shadowed the group as they moved through the park, but they were accompanied by nothing but silence. It wasn’t until they ran into the centerpiece of the park that he took initiative, stepping ahead of the group and simply… Standing there a distance away from the tree of many scions, between it and the group.
“What’s so important over there, fireman?” it was a venlil who asked, but his usage of an english word was not lost on Marik.
“A place you will respect” the exterminator has his arms crossed, the one good portion of his gaze set on the man who asked “This is a grave.”
Though the group that now prowled was large, those who heard were taken aback. One such, however, approaches closer. He was a venlil whose fur shifted between a soft, brownish color and a dirty white “A tradition of the tenets right? One of those family trees?” The man would have been distinctive in any other group due to his missing patches of fur around neck, wrists, even portions around his head. But such signs of long term damage were common in the convoy.
Interest. They had shown true interest, or at least one of them had. “No, but similar… The forgotten tree is a grave for the forgotten.” He felt like these people, at least the ones before him, could probably understand the meaning of this place “It is of no tradition. Someone, a long time ago, wanted to honor someone who was gone but whose name was not meant to be remembered. Someone who had disappeared in the system… So they borrowed on another’s tradition, and added a scion to this tree, with something in their memory. Others have done so similarly, until it became… A grave for the forgotten”
“Didn’t think you’d be worried about this kind of place” it’s a human that speaks up this time
“Our duty is to protect this town, what you think-” but Marik’s words are interrupted by that same venlil who had asked before. His demeanor suddenly shifts, his ears perk up and his entire body shifts forward for a moment. He hesitates, for a second everyone’s focus is on him, and then he runs towards the tree.
Marik follows behind, stopping just by the man’s side as he finds himself at the base of the tree. The man makes a direct line to somewhere, something he had found from the distance, as if it had called him. He finds a thick and heavy branch that had been bent down by the weight of its scions and memories, near its base and speaking of a memory left behind long ago is a braid of fur made of three colors, a dirty white, a soft brown and a dark grey, bound by the braids are two beads.
The man raises up a paw, but does not touch it. As if cradling it, he recites the words engraved in one of the beads “I will cross every star to return home” others have come closer to listen to the man’s hoarse voice “There will always be a home for you” he reads of the second one. The names on the beads have been scratched out. The man falls on his knees “S-she kept her promise and… I couldn’t keep mine…”
Marik steps back as he watches two others come closer to comfort the man. He looks as a few others approach with more caution, looking up at the tree with a bit more reverence than they had before. Then, he turns around and starts heading back towards the main street.
Gazing out as the convoy gains a new flux, some leave it as it passes to move towards the park while others leave the park to rejoin the convoy, Marik simply stays there at the side of the street looking as stern as he could. Though the noise of the convoy remains great, here in this portion it seems to die down a little. A thought crosses his mind as he turns an ear as far back as he can, a thought he can’t help but voice “I wonder how many are looking at their own graves…”
As the convoy progresses, Santos simply stands by the front of the precinct, hands in his pockets. He watches the convoy arrive, heart beating fast, constrained hands the only reason he hasn't started shaking quite yet. He starts tapping his right foot as he watches the first few people cross by without noticing what this place is yet, everyone knows where the precinct is, so aside from the words printed on the sign by the entrance there is no other marker of what this building’s purpose might be.
Of course, it is impossible for nobody to notice. The entire convoy seems to stop as soon as a zurulian riding on the shoulders of a human points a claw at the building and says something. A large group breaks away at the command, all of them holding disparate signs and messages. They turn on the building with enough roars that whatever they are attempting to transmit is lost on him.
Santos is thankful his hearing isn’t nearly as good as his coworkers’, as the cacophony is already overwhelming him. He changes stances slightly, taking his hands out of his pockets and crossing his arms. This prompts a small group to turn their looks at him, the focus easily identifiable with the humans in their midst, focus which made the hair in the back of Santos’ neck stand on end. Living in this place had refined his sense of danger, but he didn’t need that to realize what could happen.
It was a group of five that approached, four humans and a venlil. “Didn’t think they’d be letting humans live out here in the boonies” said one of his kin.
Santos just shrugs “Got hired to work here. Honestly, rural folk get a needlessly bad reputation, most of the time they just don’t care as long as you’re not bothering them”
“Really? In my-”
Santos interrupts the man “Cut it out” there are many ways in which humans make themselves obvious, many of which are their eyes. Santos did understand the fear of them and why it was primal, it was not the fear of the eyes but the fear of attention, it was knowing you were under the scrutiny and judgment of another that set off that emotion. It was rarely the eyes that showed this attention for most species, but for humans it was, and the man’s clear gaze on his badge made the entire situation clear to him “Stop beating around the bush and say it already.”
Someone else is who speaks. The tall woman starts not with words, however, but by spitting on Santos’ uniform “You fucking traitor” her voice is both fierce and cold at the same time. A very emotional coldness.
“There we go” he sighs “Just… Move on. We’re not getting anything out of this conversation”
“Why?” It was the venlil in the group that started this time “These people hate you, they hate you for what you are! Why do you work for them?!”
Santos rubs his eyes and sighs “Because someone has to. Change only happens when you make it happen, simple as that”
“Change?!” another one of the humans howls “Do you think those people can change?! You know the truth, those fuckers have never done anything good!”
“You know, if you had read your history books…” Santos stares at the one who had just had their outburst “You’d remember that we once thought the very same about the police” there’s the sound of glass breaking, but he doesn’t reaction “And a lot of us still do”
The human staring him down shifts their gaze slightly at the broken window of the precinct, then back at Santos “A broken window is easy to fix” he shrugs “As I was saying. Same shit.” he crosses his arms again “There’s a role those people play, a role that needs to be played because it’s important. Different name, different problems, still the same shit. Gotta fix this, I’m doing my part” he then stares at the venlil in the group “You do yours. Simple as that.”
“Role?!” the venlil of the group steps closer “What role could they possibly have?! They only exist to hurt people!”
Santos steps back, and raises his eyes a little bit. Of course, the classics had shown themselves in this instance. With as many humans as there are in the crowd there were now quite a few objects in the air, most clearly aimed at the precinct behind him. Though given the failed arc of some of them it was clearly not just the humans indulging in such a tried and true method.
“I used to be a wildlife preserve ranger” Santos then focuses his gaze on the aggravated venlil “This is a frontier town, if you walk in the brushes with shorts you’ll walk out with your ankles numb. The athai out there are rather harmless, but they keep the sunspecks under control.” He takes another step back “Since coming here I’ve been pest control, had to catch an exotic animal set loose, investigated a murder, helped stop a child from taking her own life, stopped large scale fights, helped a dozen people avoid being arrested for self defense and helped break a fucking siege”
Santos cracks his knuckles “There’s roles. Jobs that need done and there is one fucking organization doing it all. That is a problem.” Then, he sighs and takes a few more steps to the side, offering indifference from this point on “There’s nothing I can say that would make you calm down.” he says one final time “Just make sure not to injure yourselves in the process, alright?” His words seemed to be enough to make the small group cease trying to interact, as the convoy had begun moving again. Though the one human who had called him a traitor gets one final parting shot at the precinct “Where the hell did you get an egg in this planet…” Santos says with a raised eyebrow as the projectile impacts the front door.
Keya stands by a large sign, the same one that welcomes you into Blackriver on one side and sees you out at the other, the official limit of the town. Her arms behind her back, her attention directly towards the front of the convoy as they march. Something gains the whole of her attention, the car in the front. Someone draws her focus, a human with a megaphone on top of the car. The man shouts words of encouragement at the people behind him with the megaphone before turning to his holopad, then he bends over downwards to discuss something with the driver.
She simply remains there, waiting for the convoy to pass. But instead of moving on out of the city, here the convoy stops completely. Keya observes as the further end of the convoy starts to slowly compact upon itself, and her ears pick up something “Alright everyone, start getting ready, next town over is more than a claw away, make sure you’ve left nothing behind” the words were not meant for her, nor for anyone too far. They come from the same man she had seen standing on top of the car, but he had now climbed down and was talking with a group of multiple species.
It is clear they have some degree of leadership, though the convoy does not stop cleanly nor does it begin to organize with alacrity they do respond to the group’s organization. So Keya keeps her focus on them as they point, wave and talk between themselves, others and devices. But at least one of them has noticed her attention, a gangly and light-skinned human with fire-red hair, the man that was atop the car. He starts walking in her direction, before turning around for one final set of commands as he walks backwards “And make sure the guys at the back got all the crap! We’re here to be heard, not to trash the city!” he says before turning back again to head towards her. A venlil with pure white fur erupts from inside the car he was riding, quickly dashing to his side as they notice where he was going.
In a few moments both have come up to her, the human looking down at her with the venlil bristles at his side “Saw anything interesting, fireman?”
“What are you doing here?”
“What? Isn’t it obvious?!” it was the venlil that roared a response “You saw all of it! You know what they’ve done to us! What they’ve done to everyone! And you still work for those brahking monsters! It’s like you’re thankful they made you a cripple!”
The human puts a hand on the venlil’s shoulder, calming her demeanor just a little bit “We’re here because honestly, we’re all too tired of being fucking ignored is what. So what the fuck are you gonna do?!”
“I have put the wrong emphasis” Keya says with her lack of tone. She can see the human shiver just a little bit “My task is to ensure the safety of this town. Your convoy is a danger. We have eight field-capable officers, we cannot ensure the safety of the residents against a group like yours. People will take actions for reasons, you have broadcast your reasons clearly. You have chosen this place for a reason which I cannot ascertain.”
She makes sure her ears are trained towards both the human and the venlil, an action which causes the venlil to cower behind her partner “We do not house government agencies. This is a farming town of little note. The local precinct is a simple precinct, we have no regulatory or command authority. The town population is approximately double that of the number of your convoy. We have no individuals of appreciable social or political reach. There is nothing in Blackriver of interest to people attempting to change government policy, nor have there been actions taken here that I can identify as being cause for retaliatory actions within the context of your message.”
“I must ensure this does not happen again and the only way of doing so is minimizing our attractivity as targets. A logical assumption of your choice of quarry would be a town with the presence of politicians, a large city with constant news coverage, cities housing important government agencies or those containing the Regional Firebases”
“So I ask again. What are you doing here?”
The two remain silent for a few seconds, before the human turns around with a mouth noise “Whatever, I don’t need to explain myself to someone that won’t listen. Come on!” he starts to stalk back towards the car, but stops once he notices his venlil companion wasn’t moving.
The snow-white venlil has their focus on Keya, who offers a simple low forward swipe of her tail, a sign to proceed. Still, the venlil seems frozen in place until the human comes back and grabs hold of their paw with a gentle touch. At which point both finally return to the convoy.
Keya remains at the side of the road, watching as the convoy readies itself again to leave. People get back inside cars, they hop on the back of trucks and load themselves into buses. She continues to watch as the convoy takes its time riding out, making their way out of the town.
Once it is finally gone, multiple footsteps sound behind her. When she turns around she meets her officers, having returned from their assigned positions “They have left. I expect your reports of what happened in each sector by the end of your shifts” she states plainly, before looking at Santos “They did not appear to have a specific reason for targeting Blackriver.” The question remains unspoken.
The human officer just shrugs “Sometimes, you don’t know what you’re doing. We’re just a little town, I doubt they even know what exactly they’re angry about.” He looks at the tail end of the convoy as it leaves “Town was probably just a place they felt safe going to.”
“D-do you think we might get more like that” Lunek says, at the back of the group.
“Who knows…” Santos sighs “But if human history applies anywhere here… This is just a sign of worse things to come”
[ [FIRST] [NEXT>]
And thus the omen passes by. Feelings, emotions of all sorts, without a plan or a reason other than just their own rage and distress.
Did any of these even know what they were doing? And how much worse can it be when they do?

I was reading “Gawain and the Green Knight” and was a bit confused about the green knight. On one part of one paragraph it says “Over it [his mail] he wore an elegant cloak […] the braid was edged with the richest ermine”, but on the other hand it says earlier that “this man and his clothes [ie including his cloak] were all coloured green” and later on “and all his attire was totally green”, and while I can suspend my disbelief for the mail, these stories are full of magic and this man also has green skin, the cloak seems to be contradictory.
How should I interpret this? Totally green suggests everything he wore was green in some form or other. However his braid is edged in ermine, ie, white with a particular black spotted pattern. Does this mean green ermined with a different shade of green?

https://www.reddit.com/EverAfterHigh/comments/1ct2gbc/mh_x_eah/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button
In response to this post, I wanted to share a comparison piece I did a few years back with the known characters at the time.
In the worlds of Ever After and Monster high, these two reign supreme in their school. Apple and Cleo, Dating the top hunk, loves to wear gold, and is used to getting her way.
Blondie/Spectra It isn't easy being the school newsletter blogger, either everyone calls you a gossip or wants an interview. They've also got wicked flowing hair and just seems to kinda pop in wherever there's action
BriaGhoulia- These two lovely ladies have excellent taste in chic glasses/shades and who knew how much fun a study session could be? These girls have got the answer!
CedaVenus-We got one girl who can talk to plants, and one who is made of wood One is cursed to always tell the truth, the other can hypnotize you and pretty much force the truth out of ya. Both want to protect the environment
Cerise/Clawdeen-Not all of us girls can be a lady at all times, some of us got a bad side It can be difficult containing your inner beast. But at least look your best when kicking butt...
Daring/Deuce-So we have the top jock, champ of the court, dating the most beloved and revered girl at school and hey, check out that blinding smile or the stony gaze...
Daring/Clawd-These two are the Top Jocks of their school. They also have a killer smile, Clawd has nice fangs... Always strutting around wearing a school jersey
Duchess/Nefera- Sooooo, who's the Queen Birch of school? This chick. She doesn't care about anyone's happiness but her own. And sure, she's gorgeous and wears some awesome outfits. And she doesn't have friends, she has minions.
Frankie/Maddie-The unforgettable friend we all have that has a few screws loose.... Dresses like their closet threw up. Speaks in riddles....? Speaks zombie.....? Why are you looking at me?
Gil/Hunter- So these two sport the same hair style...if you wanna call Gil's dorsal fin hair and yeah, they're both in that secret relationship with their lady and they're pretty nice guys too, very thoughtful.
Heath/Hopper- We all know that one guy who isn't so fly with the ladies, but can speak volumes of poetry when by himself. Did we mention the strange thing he does when flustered? And is red hair really so bad?
Holly/Meowlody- These two have a similar sounding name which rolls off he tongue both have long hair featuring a braid off to the side and have a twin sister which is always by their side
Holt/Sparrow- Kindred spirits here, both gotta crazy urge to always be jamming. They wear some pretty flashy threads and have some wicked flaming orange hair
Jackson/Dexter- Wow, I'm practically seeing double here. Are these two long lost twins? Brown hair, big square glasses, wears checkered pattern... Let's not forget getting overshadowed by their brotheother personality And then there's that whole "love triangle" business.....
Lagoona/Ashlynn- At first, you may think these two have nothing in common, but they're both in a secret relationship that is looked down apon by their peers and they've got a mass of curly long hair and they seem to like aqua blue a lot too They both even have green eyes....
Lizzie/Operetta- Here we have two divas rocking a very glamorous look, sporting red and black hair in a high maintenance style, wearing a heart over their left eye I'm sensing some Twinkie-ness going on here
Poppy/Purrsephone- Both of their names start with "P". They style their hair with a different strand of color to the right side and they share a similar edgy style of clothing
Raven/Draculaura- Being pale of skin, with ebony dark hair, these two daughters of darkness are pretty much expected to follow the path of their famously devious parent. Ain't happening.
Toralei/Kitty- We've all known that prickly feline attitude in someone who just delights in making mischief. Let the cat fight begin...

alright second try. maybe I can trim the fat a little on this attempt and make it a bit more streamlined.
so the first thing is deciding how many strands to use, and to avoid complicating things on your first try just trust me you'll want to choose an even number.
beginnings:
I almost exclusively do 4 strands as a flat braid with paracord, but that comes with a couple complications of its own involving the finger loop and the pouch design, so I am going to write this for a 6 strand braid, which for most of the sling will be a 3-strand braiding pattern using doubled strands, so 6 total...
...but in order to do the finger loop right you actually want to cut 3 strands at double the full desired length, plus some room for error etc. so for a 54" sling cut 3 lengths of cord at 120" each (and just for convenience go ahead and melt the ends sealed)
line them up alongside one another and fold your bundle in half, but to avoid tangling and confusion keep the 2 halves a little separated. you'll start working on the middle of the bundle.
finger loop:
take the very middle, then choke up a few inches (technically this will amount to the circumference of the finger loop but it doesn't have to be perfect here). tie a slipknot a few inches up from the very middle binding the 3 cords together, and start braiding them together on the long side starting at the knot.
the repeat rule through this whole effort is TIGHT, EVEN braids. if it starts looking wonky, just take it apart and try to fix it bc the further you go the more impossible any corrections will become.
after you get a few inches of braid, loop it around to see how big the finger loop is. you want it wide enough to easily slip past the knuckles on your middle finger (even if that's not the finger you use when you actually sling, you should still make it big enough). when you get there, clothespin the braid closed and untie the slipknot. now you’re gonna tighten up that end of the braid and maybe even add a little length.
stack your braid ends one on top of the other to form the finger loop and make sure each braid's last working strand is pointing in the same direction.
you’re going to pair each strand with its counterpart one by one, and continue the braid as a doubled up 3-strand pattern. this will merge the ends of the finger loop together seamlessly and begin the retention cord.
if this sounds complicated, it's honestly pretty straightforward once you're actually doing it (this sentiment might come up again a couple times fyi)
retention cord:
braiding the retention cord is easy, it's the same 3-strand pattern just with doubled strands now. keep the doubled strands parallel and pull them very tight with each braid you lay down, wrapping them around as you go (again... you'll see what I mean).
knee:
once you get the right length on the retention cord (I didn’t do the math here, but it's not complicated), you'll separate the braid into 2 bundles of 3, each to be braided into the sides of the split pouch.
rather than laying out exactly which strand goes where to make it most even, I think you'll do fine figuring it out on your own. honestly you just want the sides to be as balanced as possible.
a good practice is to braid one side a couple inches, clothespin it, then braid the other side a couple inches. now go back to the first one, undo the braid, pull everything super tight again and braid a couple inches again; then repeat on the other side. this really helps pull out the slack that inevitably builds up.
pouch:
braid each side to the appropriate length (math...), taking turns between them and regularly checking they are well balanced.
we will do a little more to beef up the pouch a bit once we finish the release cord. that is when you can add a Channing type smile if you want, too.
belly:
again, make sure each pouch braid's last working strand points in the same direction and all the strands are pulled tight.
you will rejoin the pouch in a similar way as you did for the finger loop, but this time side by side instead of stacked. this is probably the trickiest part of the whole process, and it might take a couple tries to get it right but it's not too hard. if it's just not working for you, you can get away with joining them stacked instead of side by side and the sling will still work fine - it's just better to do it side by side.
just make sure you keep pulling all the strands tight as you go, and that you are pairing the appropriate strands with one another.
don’t hesitate to take it apart and give it another try if it doesn't look or feel right - it's reasonably important to get this part right since it is the part of the sling that most directly affects how projectiles will release.
release cord:
hey you're at least 3/4 done now. if you want you can just keep doing the same 6 strand, doubled-up 3 strand pattern for the entite length of the release cord - but it's generally advised to drop out strands from the braid periodically to form a steady taper until the very end of the release cord is the same thickness as the finger loop.
it's very easy to do, and I usually just feel it out as I go - it doesn't have to be a perfect taper. you'll drop one cord at a time, so you'll start with 6 strands, braid for a bit... drop to 5 and braid some more; then 4 for a bit, and finally 3 for the remainder - so it does help to learn how to do a 5- and 4-strand braid...
...but honestly it should be ok if you do your 5-strand portion by continuing with the same 3 doubled-up strand pattern, just one of them is a single strand now.
also, whenever you drop a strand don't cut it or anything, just leave it out of the braid and let it hang for now.
same deal when you hit 4 strands - you could learn the braid or just continue the same pattern you've been doing but now only one strand is doubled. doing it like that with the 5 and 4 strand portions will kinda make the cord less... idk 'uniform'(?) than if you were to use the appropriate braid patterns, but all in all it shouldn't be an issue.
lastly, of course, dropping from 4 to 3 should be pretty simple.
release:
I like a smooth release without a knot, but if you want to add a knot you just have to make sure it's in the exact right place so that the very center of the pouch will be the lowest point of the sling when you put the finger loop on and grip the release as you will when it's time to use it. only way to determine that is to put it on your finger and try it out.
if you think it'll help, go ahead and place a projectile in the pouch then hold the sling just as you would if you were getting ready to incapacitate a philistine giant - this will help you find the exact spot where it's most comfortable and natural to grip the release cord and keep the pouch centered.
note: this is actually part of why I prefer to skip the release knot... if you experiment with different ways of holding and releasing etc. - which you probably should if you’re new to slinging - the knot kinda locks you in place. I haven't heard a good argument in favor of the knot actually; it seems like there's no real advantage to having it and it kinda gets in the way
use a crown knot, which is super easy w 3 strands but I’m not going to explain it here - it's all over youtube you'll have no trouble finding a 20 second video demonstrating this simple knot.
you can terminate the sling right at the release knot if you want, but I strongly recommend continuing for a few inches past it - and if you skip the knot, definitely continue a few inches past the portion you'll be gripping.
end the braid with a crown knot then cut and melt the ends of each cord to seal them. melting paracord ends is sort of a skill on its own, but if you do it right it bulges a little and hardens in place which will hold your knot together.
tassle: (how do you spell tassle? is it tassel?)
you don’t need a tassle but hey why not? since you've got plenty of paracord cut like 7" and pull out the inner strands - the guts.
you can thread them through the crown knot for extra security, then braid them together for a few inches - or you can just make a braid and tie it to the end. either way works fine. I like to braid the tassle a bit then let it hang loose for another couple inches into a natural fray, rather than closing the braid with a knot. honestly doesn't matter much, but do leave an unbraided portion as a fray.
pouch afterwork:
you could leave the pouch as is, but it's nice to make it a little beefier and more durable. I just use some more paracord to wrap it. you can use the axe-handle wrap method, which is basically just a series of alternating overhand knots around a core - typically a tool handle but in this case each of the sides of your pouch.
a much, much better way is a 'solomon bar' which is like paracord 101... it's how you make everything - key fobs, bracelets, dog leashes, belts, etc. it's hard to explain, but easy to learn from a video lol. just remember that any video you watch about it will show you how to create a core, then create the knot pattern around it, usually using like one strand of cord - you just need the knot technique since the core you'll tie it around is, again, each of the sides of the pouch.
I've never tried the 'smile' but it seems easy enough - just kinda minimally thread a single strand of cord across the center gap to prevent your projectiles from falling through (honestly it's just not a problem I have often enough to warrant a solution like that)
afterwork/finishing touches:
the hanging strands you dropped out for the taper... just cut those and melt them sealed. easy enough.
you can wrap the finger loop too, if you want. I'd go ahead and do that if you wind up using it often enough, and I recommend something soft like cotton twine... but paracord does work fine too.
end/concluding notes:
and there you go.... idk how much experience you have using a sling, but that's outside the scope of this for me lol - one thing I will say though if you haven't used one before: start with tennis balls or something that can’t knock anybody out or break windows, please!
and lastly, if this does seem like more than you're willing to undertake... there are easier options for sure.
seatbelt sling:
my favorite sling that isn’t a natural fiber balaeric type is the second one I ever made, which took me 10 minutes after watching the video by Mersa - a seatbelt sling. it just uses canvas type material for the pouch and single strands for the cords. look it up. mine gets used all the time and has never needed any repairs or adjustments
noodle sling:
literally takes less than 5 minutes and uses a single uncut cord with easy knots to form the loop and the pouch. you do need a slightly thicker cord though. I’ve made a few of these and they also work great.
anyway, good luck - I'll keep an eye on notifications if you need any help or anything.
it's super satisfying to use a sling you made yourself, and if you're like me at all you'll wind up making like a dozen of them just out of boredom until you get the technique down perfect and even come up with your own ideas and techniques to try out.
just wait until you start getting into the traditional natural fiber methods and you wind up watching the Archaic Arms videos 30x

Chapter CC
​
Trout's Landing.
​
Ruby stretched with a contented sigh. She turned her head over to where Jeb slept beside her. Or where he was when she fell asleep. She sat up and looked around the dark underground room but he wasn't here either.
"Wonder where he went."
​
Oh well, she thought as she stretched a few stiff muscles before hopping up and collecting their eggs. As nice as it was to sleep with them, they needed more consistent warmth. So she sat them to the side, bundled up in the still warm blanket, and departed to secure a source of fire for their eggs.
​
Which wasn't all that hard, she realized as her dark vision faded as the blue glow from the torches up ahead illuminated the main gathering area for the burrows. She smiled as she saw the tribe return to something familiar that she missed seeing for a while.
​
Several tunnels branched off towards the other cabins and already kobolds came and went from them as they began to migrate away from the chill air above for the, still cool but more comfortable, air below. As they did she could see the collections they brought back and forth. Animals, alive and dressed, were being moved down here and out of the elements for better care. As well as an easier time keeping the ever gluttonous salamanders from sneaking another meal. Scraps and salvage collected from around the lodge or while out exploring being brought down and being traded or even used to furnish the space.
​
Bits of wood with simple carvings were lodged into the dirt along side scraps of metal or rock with soot, mud, or crushed flower pigment to paint symbols or words on them for decoration or directions. While it wasn't the bustling forum that they once had, it gladdened her to see her tribe returning to normalcy once again.
​
She shook away the distracting thoughts and set her sights on some scrap of wood nearby. She darted over to the vendor, deftly avoiding a section of the ground being dug up as the kobolds dug ever deeper as they sought to expand their burrows ever more. It was in their nature to dig and burrow. While they no longer had a draconic master to excavate massive caverns and tunnels for, she wouldn't be surprised if kobold tunnels ended up expanding far past the border of the lodge itself and going far into the wild where they knew nothing about save for what little Jeb has told them.
​
Eventually, even this gathering area will be abandoned as the tribe moved deeper down, putting as much dirt and rock between them and whatever threats laid above. The only thing that would remain would be an assortment of traps to keep any invaders wary of going deeper than the kobolds wanted. Even then, many of the tunnels that would lead deeper would be dead-ends meant to slow or hinder any invader. Some would even be traps in and of themselves, collapsing the "tunnel" on top of even the most cautious of invader or even just blocking their escape and leaving them to die before the kobolds eventually dug out their remains and collected their gear with no trouble.
​
She stood before the assortment of wood and looked over the scrap. Some of it was processed lumber that looked to be from the buildings above, most was collected bits of wood from the forest though. Which was fine, she didn't need anything too big. No bartering took place. She was a leader of the tribe and it was assumed whatever she wanted was for the good of the tribe.
​
Even starting a warming fire for her eggs was good enough for the tribe to skip bartering and simply give her what she needed. So she collected enough wood for a nice fire and returned to her home. She sorted it into the indent in the ground that Jeb had placed their eggs in before. It would be a good place to start a heating fire for them, she thought as she finished arranging them.
​
She left and collected some tinder made of dried moss and grass before looking around for some stone or flint to start the fire with. But no such luck. All the stone was deeply imbedded in the dirt or was too large. She once more returned to the gathering area in search of fire. Which she quickly found in the form of the glowing blue fire that Jeb had created for the kobolds.
​
She shuffled a little as she stared at the dancing flame. She knew Jeb didn't like the idea of the kobolds using the blue fire. He probably wouldn't like the idea of heating their eggs with it either. She should be worried as well, she thought. But she wasn't. Staring at the flame reminded her of the vision that The Crone showed her. Of her and Jeb within a ring of flaming blue orbs. They were happy. The tribe was happy.
​
"He'll understand." She said as she darted and collected a piece of wood to transfer a spark from a nearby torch.
​
Ember in hand, she rushed back to her home. She gently eased the flame towards the bundle of wood. She yipped in shock when the flame leapt from her temporary torch and engulfed the pile! Their room burst into dancing shadows as the flames danced from their new home. So pretty, she thought as she stared at the fire. She had seen it when she would come out of their room in the old building for a break. But it seemed so mesmerizing now that it was right in front of her.
​
She widened the indent in the ground a little so that the eggs could receive the warmth from the fire without being too close. They might be mildly resistant to fire, but not enough to throw their eggs in a fire! Then again, she thought with worry as she held her claw out at the fire. The warmth from it isn't as strong as a normal fire it seemed. Like it was contained.
​
She clicked her claws in worry. She didn't want to push them too close, but they wouldn't get enough heat if they remained where they were. It would only get worse as it got colder and the cold seeped into the ground. Maybe just a little closer, she thought as she nudged the eggs closer to the fire.
​
The flames sputtered at the movement of air, but nothing more. She held out her claw to gauge the temperature once again. But it still wasn't enough, she thought as she clicked her claws against a nearby stone in thought. She cast a glance towards the tunnel. She could maybe see if one of the others have something to make a proper fire, she thought.
​
She put a claw on the eggs.
"No. That'll take too long."
​
She looked worryingly at the tunnel as if Jeb would appear and lambast her for even thinking what she was. She held her breath and pushed the eggs forwards. Then more. Then even more. The flames sputtered and danced as the eggs were pushed closer and closer. She could only just feel the heat as she did so. Why did the fire seem so weak, she thought as she pushed the eggs right up beside the bundle of burning wood.
​
Yet the fire seemed to move around the eggs, like they were doing their best to avoid touching them. Even the heat from the fire seemed to be avoiding them! Ruby growled in frustration and pushed the eggs right into the fire!
"Can you just keep them warm?!"
​
The fire stilled and froze as the eggs were pushed into it. As if it didn't know what to do. Then the flame roared to life once again. The balefire caressed the onyx shells as it seemed to dance across the smooth black surface of the shells. As if a barrier broke, the heat from the flame radiated outwards now. Ruby could now feel the warmth from the fire where seconds ago she felt nothing.
​
Ruby blinked at the eldritch flame and moved her claw to touch her eggs. She instinctively pulled back as a tongue of balefire arced in her direction. She whined in worry at possibly making a terrible mistake. She held her breath and once more reached out to caress her eggs. She bit her tongue and shut her eyes when the fire arced towards her once more.
​
But she didn't feel pain. No burning sensation one would get when normally sticking an appendage into a roaring fire. Instead she felt a comforting warmth. Like she felt when close to Jeb as they slept together. She cracked open an eye and found the baleful flame caressing her claw. She experimented a little by pulling her claw back, feeling as the flame seemed to latch on like it didn't want her to leave, before snapping back to its "body". She pushed her claw into the fire, further this time, all the way up to her elbow. The fire latched onto her once again and flooded her with a comforting warmth that shot straight to her core!
​
She turned her claw upwards and pulled back once more. She watched as the flame held on as she did so, once more refusing to leave her scales. She watched as the flame snapped once again, but this time, it broke! Instead of snapping back towards its body, she now held a burning ball of balefire in her claw!
​
She couldn't do magic. There were few of the tribe that could before they fled to this world. The Chief was the last among them that had any ability to harness it. Yet here she was, holding a magical fire within her claw! She watched as the flame danced and twisted in her grasp. She sucked in a breath when she watched it start to diffuse INTO her scales! The flame lessened and lessened as if it were dying, but instead the fire seeped between the cracks of her scales. She could feel it racing through her body, flooding it once more with a wave of comforting warmth.
​
"Den Mother?" A voice asked from the tunnel nearby.
​
Ruby yelped in surprise and turned towards the voice. She saw the Chief standing there watching her with a curious and amazed expression on his snout.
"Having fun?"
​
"Chief!? I was-"
​
"Playing with fire?" The Chief asked playfully as he stared at the blue fire.
​
She shuffled nervously as he did so. Eventually he chuckled and she began to relax.
"It's alright Den Mother. You're not the only one that Master Jeb's flame as entranced among the tribe."
​
"Why do you think it acts so different from normal fire?" She asked.
​
The Chief shrugged.
"Who knows. Perhaps it is how magic works in this world. Perhaps it is something on Master Jeb's part. Perhaps it is because our former- Kortaza, was the Keeper of Flame."
​
"But we never had much protection from fire before. And not any way to manipulate it." Ruby said.
​
The Chief sighed.
"True. I truly do not know why it is so different than normal fire. Fire is alive, yes. But this one seems almost..."
​
"Living?" Ruby suggested.
​
"Yes. Like it has a mind of its own. Though I doubt that much, perhaps it merely follows the will of Master Jeb, knowingly or not on his part." The Chief continued as he walked closer and sat down beside Ruby and watched the eggs glimmer and shine within the fire where they remained quiet for some peaceful moments.
​
The Chief then perked up.
"Oh! Master Jeb returned!"
​
"He did?! Where is he?" Ruby asked and looked around expecting to see him coming down the tunnel.
​
"Well, he did return. Rushed around and collected an assortment of food, and then he vanished away again. Something about a trade?" The Chief explained a little unsure.
​
She frowned, wonder what he was trading, she thought. Though, with the eggs now taken care of, and Jeb away for a moment. Perhaps now was the time she could see about doing something special for him. She turned to the Chief, he was more knowledgeable when it came to humans and their customs.
​
"Chief?" She asked.
​
"Yes? What is it?" He asked at the tone of her voice.
​
"What do you know of this world's humans?"
​
"Oh? What would you like to know?" He asked a little excited in being able to use his collected knowledge.
​
"What do humans do with those they care about?" She asked a little uncertainly.
​
The Chief hummed in thought and tapped his claws.
"It depends. Humans are as diverse in this world as ours. Many customs I've read about belong to different groups."
​
"What about the tribe that Jeb belongs to?"
​
The Chief hummed once more in thought and got up before darting away while calling back.
"I will check! I'm sure I have something!"
​
While she waited, she continued to play with fire and tend to her eggs. Since they were in the flame, they didn't need quite so studious attention as they did before. She could probably just leave them and go tend to her normal duties and not have to worry about them anymore.
​
Who was she fooling, she thought. Even if there was a way to hatch and tend to the eggs completely without her, she'd still want to look after them. She thought she heard Jeb mentioning something about an "electrical egg incubator" once upon a time. Whatever that was.
​
The Chief returned, huffing from being out of breath and holding a thickly bound tome with pages of different sizes and colors poking out of the patched bindings. He placed the heavy tome on the ground with a huff.
"This is my collection of this world's customs and knowledge. If there is something that will assist you it will be in here somewhere!"
​
Ruby oohed and awed as the Chief flipped open the tome and leafed through page after page of information. Some were pages from magazines, others were snippets and clippings from books, there was a few pages that contained pressed cuttings of local flora as well as a collection of small animal bones among the bindings.
​
They stopped on a page that read MODERN COURTING FOR THE MODERN WOMAN in bold letters on a page that felt smooth to the touch. On the cover was a gorgeous human woman wearing a sleek beautiful dress and jewelry. Ruby pointed towards the page.
"Oh this one!"
​
They thumbed through the pages looking for information. Most neither one of them got as it talked about stuff like make-up, libido, popular fashion, and other things that they didn't either understand or see the appeal of. Then they found a page that described how a modern woman should act. Though this seemed to confuse the both of them even more.
​
"Be 'dem-or' and assertive? What does 'dem-or' mean?" Ruby asked the Chief.
​
"I'm not sure. There are many words within that don't seem to fit." He explained.
​
A pattern they soon found to be common among the pages of information, much of the words would make sense but spread out among them were these spots of words that seemed just out of place. What they COULD understand still didn't make any sense either.
​
"Be soft yet firm? How does that work?" The Chief asked.
​
"If you like a potential mate why make him keep trying to win your heart?" Ruby asked equally confused.
​
"Modern" humans were just as confusing to them it seemed. However, among the pages of contradictory information, they were able to get SOMETHING of value! Humans like gifts. Though they both knew that and didn't really feel like these pages of "modern courting" did anything more than confuse them.
​
"What kind of gifts?" The Chief asked as he and Ruby tried to decipher the mess of flowery wording and nonsense.
​
"Jewelry, clothes, food." Ruby read off as they got the general gist of the overly convoluted wording. The pictures helped more though.
​
"Well! At least we found something... I think?" The Chief declared at least with a little uncertainty.
​
"Why did you collect all this?" Ruby asked.
​
"It was in a book, so I thought it was important. But it would seem that not everything in this world's books are worth keeping." The Chief stated before retrieving the tome and departing.
​
"Where are you going?"
​
"To go through my collection. It would seem that some of it is not as important as I first thought." He called out as he left.
​
She could hear him mumbling to himself and heard the occasional tearing as he did. Well, at least they found something, she thought as she turned towards the eggs once more. She placed a claw on the onyx shells and felt the comforting warmth of the fire as well as the warmth of the eggs. They'll be fine for now, she thought as she got up and left.
​
"Jewelry, clothes, and food." Ruby murmured as she went down the tunnel once again.
​
He was getting low on clothes, she thought. But there wasn't much around here to make some with. Though perhaps some animal hides would work? But much of what they've collected was too small for clothes of Jeb's size. Getting him food seemed redundant too. He could make his own food whenever he wished. Which left jewelry.
​
It was the better of the options, but they didn't have much in the way of jewelry either. No raids means no loot and the piles of treasure back in their former home wasn't exactly a priority at the time of their exodus. But then she spied the copper wire the kobolds had collected while scavenging. A copper band would be nice, she thought as she was given the piece of wiring from the scavenger.
​
But what else, she thought as she looked around some more. The pictures in the magazine showed jewelry that glittered with gold and diamonds and so much more that they no longer had. Nothing around here could compare, she thought dejectedly. But then she saw a group of kobolds coming down a tunnel with a collection of shells and waterlogged timber.
​
"What is this?" She asked them.
​
"Salvage from the camps up river." The kobold replied as he and the others began to sift and sort the mess.
​
She watched as they distributed everything they collected to the tribe that came over. Some took the waterlogged wood, others took polished stones, and others took the collection of shells. She eyed the shells. Back home, alot of the fishfolk in the rivers and around the sea collected pearls from the water. Perhaps the ones upriver also had some?
​
She followed after the group of kobolds that had collected the shells and assisted them in opening a few. Mussels were what was mainly here, no surprise though since it seemed they were far from this world's ocean. What was a surprise was how many pearls they actually managed to find among the mussels!
​
It was rare for the kobolds to find one during their fishing trips by the sea. Even among the rivers pearls were not much more common. So it surprised them that several mussels had multiple pearls within them! She was going to actually barter for potentially the single one they found, but with there being so many the shuckers didn't mind at all and gave Ruby a small handful for her project.
​
They weren't all that big, but that was fine by her. They'd do for what she had in mind. She borrowed a small thin metal needle from a scavenger and retreated back to her room. Copper wire and freshwater pearls in claw.
​
-----
​
Well, that's taken care of, Jeb thought as he appeared in the open air of the lodge. He flicked the gold and garnet band into the air and got it with a spring in his step and a tune on his lips as he made his way over to the Trap Master who stood near the river where he received reports from the salvagers.
​
"How's things?" He asked when he got close.
​
"Good. Strange. But good." The Trap Master stated as he dismissed the salvagers.
​
"How so?"
​
"The 'murlocs' you called them? Haven't returned to their former homes." He explained.
​
"And? Wasn't that kinda the point?"
​
"It was. But there isn't any sign of anything else other than birds flocking to the area."
​
"Again, wasn't that the point?"
​
"Only if something worse didn't move in." The Trap Master explained further.
​
Jeb groaned.
"What moved in?"
​
"Nothing."
​
"Nothin'?"
​
"That we can see. No new tracks, no scents, nothing."
​
"So what's the problem?"
​
"The problem is that much carrion should've drawn every scavenger and hungry animal for miles."
​
"But it hasn't." Jeb finished.
​
"No. The birds infest the area but largely leave us alone. Though some get a little territorial over their spots of carrion. But nothing else has moved into the area."
​
Jeb groaned again.
"So what do you wanna do?"
​
"Nothing."
​
"Really?" Jeb asked in surprise.
​
"Yes. If the other animals and creatures nearby are giving the place a wide berth then we'll exploit it as long as we can. We'll send some scouts to keep an eye on the place though."
​
"Perhaps the smell of death is what's doin' it?" Jeb suggested.
​
"Maybe. Would explain the large number of birds. But nothing else?"
​
"Yeah, you're right. Well let me know if you need help with it." Jeb said.
​
"Will do."
​
"Oh! Before I forget, I made a trade agreement with the dwarves."
​
The Trap Master cocked a scaled brow.
"Oh?"
​
"Yeah. Food for tools. We'll need to set aside five crates twice a week, but we'll get some decent tools to help speed up excavation." Jeb explained.
​
The Trap Master tapped his claws against his scales in thought.
"That's doable."
​
"You sure? Cuz I'm more than happy to do it all myself." Jeb said and conjured an apple to make his point.
​
"No. The tools are for us, we should assist. Besides, we gathered more for our former master. Five crates twice a week will be easy enough to do." The Trap Master stated in a relaxed tone.
​
"Alright, if you're certain." Jeb said.
​
"I am. We'll let you know if anything changes." The Trap Master replied.
​
"Alright, have it your way." Jeb returned and departed while tossing the conjured apple towards the lazing salamanders nearby.
​
Jeb ported down to the main gathering area. The place was just as busy as when he left as the kobolds went about their duties and tasks with vigor and joy that he's only really seen when they were staying in his basement. Guess he was the one living in their basement now, he thought with a chuckle.
​
He played with the gold and garnet band as he shuffled nervously. Wasn't sure why he was so nervous, he thought. She already had his kids, kinda, sorta. They were already living together. This would just be the natural progression of things. Kinda, sorta. He heaved in a big gulp of air to steady his nerves.
​
"Alright. Quite procrastinatin' Jeb." He muttered to himself and started down the tunnel towards his home.
​
He stopped when his boot stepped on something different. He looked down and picked up a magazine page.
"Modern courtin' for the modern woman? Where the hell did this come from?"
​
Probably Sammy's, Jeb thought as he tossed aside the girly garbage. Not sure what it was doing out here though. Maybe she brought it for Thanksgiving and forgot it? Or maybe the kobolds swiped it when they raided her hairspray? Or maybe she just left it among his other articles one of the times she and his pa would go over to his place.
​
"Oh well." He said as he continued on.
​
He could hear humming as he got closer, and saw a familiar pale blue light. He walked into his room and saw Ruby humming as she tinkered with something. Nearby was their eggs, sitting in the balefire. He should've panicked. He should've dropped everything and ran over trying to save his kids. That's what a father would do right?
​
But he didn't have that gut wrenching feeling of seeing your kids in danger he thought he would. Still, he walked over beside Ruby. She yelped in surprise and fumbled with what she was working on as Jeb reached out a hand and touched their onyx colored eggs.
​
"Jeb?! I was- They were-" Ruby tried to explain while also trying to gather her things.
​
"It's alright." Jeb said.
​
"It is?" She asked with concern.
​
"Yeah. They're not hot." He said as he stroked the shells through the fire that did nothing to him.
​
"Are you sure?" She asked with worry and concern.
​
"Yeah. Doubt it'll do anythin' more to 'em." Jeb said with a bit more bitterness in his voice than he wanted there to be.
​
He saw Ruby's face fall at his words. Nice job dickhead, Jeb thought to himself. He sighed and turned towards Ruby.
"I'm sorry. I'm just nervous 'bout everythin' happenin'."
​
"I'm nervous too." She stated and leaned into him for a hug, which he eagerly returned.
​
They held each other for a long moment before Ruby perked up and scrambled away.
"Hold on! Don't look!"
​
"Look at what?" Jeb asked with a cocked brow as he did his best to hide his own gift.
​
"I said don't look!" She chided.
​
"Alright!" He said with a laugh.
​
He turned away as he heard her grumbling and fumbling with whatever she was working on when he walked in on her. While he waited, he stretched out his hand and caressed their eggs. Please don't get any weirder, he pleaded mentally while he waited.
​
"Ok! You can look now!" Ruby called at last.
​
Jeb turned back around and saw Ruby holding a ring towards him. It was some braided copper wire with a couple of small pearls threaded on. She held it up to him.
"What do you think?"
​
Wait, was this a gift or was she asking him to marry her, Jeb thought. He had to say something though, the look of confusion on his face was making Ruby sad.
"I love it! What's it for exactly?"
​
"Well, I'm courting you!" She said as Jeb accepted the copper and pearl braided band.
​
"Courtin' me? What does that-" Jeb started when he noticed a rustle from his left boot.
​
He looked down and pulled off a piece of paper that had stuck to it. MODERN COURTING FOR THE MODERN WOMAN, it said in bold on the paper. He turned it around towards Ruby.
"Did you read this?"
​
She shuffled.
"Yes? I wasn't sure how you court a human in this world! But the words were confusing and didn't make any sense and- why are you laughing?"
​
"I'm laughin' because this is trash! None of the stuff in here is how you should court someone!" Jeb said with a laugh.
​
"But it says-" Ruby started when Jeb tossed the magazine paper into the nearby fire, which ate it instantly.
​
"It's just somethin' that girls read to pass the time. Nothin' in there is worth the paper it's printed on." Jeb declared.
​
"Oh. So?" Ruby asked dejectedly as she gestured to the ring she made for Jeb.
​
"This is just fine. Though do you know what it means to get a ring for someone?" Jeb asked.
​
"That they love one another?" Ruby said a little unsure now.
​
"Yeah. I guess it does. But the act of givin' someone you love a ring is a symbol that you want to be together." Jeb explained and produced his own gift for Ruby.
​
Her eyes went wide as she grasped the gold and garnet band.
"But we're already together."
​
"Yeah. We are."
​
"So what does the rings mean?" Ruby asked as she examined the band.
​
"Well, it's more religious really."
​
"Oh?"
​
"Yeah. It's supposed to mean... somethin'." Jeb started as he realized he didn't entirely recall what the meaning of the ring was supposed to mean.
​
"Mean what?" Ruby pressed as she tried to fit the band on her arm and then her tail.
​
"Well. It generally means being together forever."
​
"But why the ring?"
​
"It means a sort of exclusivity for folk." Jeb explained.
​
"Why? What about the rest of the tribe? Does that mean you won't help them?" She asked.
​
"No! I can, or will, or... this is harder than I thought it'd be." Jeb said with a sigh.
​
Ruby cocked a brow as well.
"So what happens?"
​
"Well, we exchange rings and promise to love one another forever. In sickness and health and yada yada. Then we're husband and wife." Jeb explained.
​
"Why? We're already mates and we love one another. What does our health have to do with it? And what is a 'husband and wife'?"
​
"Well... You know what? Forget it. Do you promise to love me?"
​
"Yes! Do you?"
​
"Yup!"
​
"Yay!" Ruby cried and hugged Jeb.
​
"And I now pronounce you man and wife." Jeb muttered as he kissed Ruby.
​
Ruby giggled and pulled away.
"So what happens now?"
​
"Now... I don't know. Usually there would also be paper work, but given... us, it prob'bly wouldn't matter."
​
"So what changes?" Ruby asked as she affixed the gold and garnet band to one of her horns with a smile.
​
"Uhm... nothin'? We're already together, we already live together, we already have kids... kinda." Jeb listed off.
​
"So what's the rings supposed to mean?"
​
"It means... I love you." Jeb replied at last, giving up on trying to explain something he himself wasn't entirely informed of.
​
"I love you too!" Ruby cried and kissed him.
​
He returned the kiss. Not like this would've been an official wedding anyway, Jeb thought. They don't exactly have a licensed priest to officiate it. Or witnesses. He doubt their still shelled eggs would count. He could ask the Chief to oversee it. But he already got a headache trying to explain marriage to Ruby, he didn't really want to explain it to the Chief, or any other kobolds that might be interested.
​
Not like it made anything different, Jeb thought. Ruby was right. They loved one another. They lived together. They had kids together. For all intents and purposes, they were mates. Sure if he was particularly religious he could insist on going to a church and doing things official. But given how things have turned out for them lately, he wouldn't be surprised if he burst into flames stepping inside a church.
​
Well, there was ONE tradition that they could still do, Jeb thought with a smirk as he picked up Ruby bridal style.
"Wanna consummate our marriage?"
​
"What does that mean?" She asked.
​
"Don't worry. You'll like it." Jeb said as he led her over to their moss bed.
​
[First] [Prev] [Next]

My hair has always been wavy but after losing half my body weight, half my hair went with it and never returned even when some weight did. When it thinned out the texture completely changed and I lost any sense of volume, ending up with flat stringy hair and maybe 2 waves if I’m lucky. To add, it’s been color treated off & on since I was a kid but barely ever bleached, it’s very low porosity & quick to tangle/break/frizz up. I’ve also always had issues with oily roots.
I’ve been on a mission to regain some livelihood & it’s helping for sure but I just can’t seem to fully make things click for myself.
I’ve been working with this routine lately:
•Brush before shower, ends to roots in short strokes •Stand with my head flipped upside down inwards & saturate hair •Lather a small amount of Moroccan Oil shampoo on roots only & use a scalp brush in small straight movements, no circles to avoid tangling •After completely rinsing my shampoo out, medium sized (I have long hair) squeeze of Moroccan Oil conditioner & squish to condish until unable to wring out any more liquid •Fully rinse by squishing water into & out of the hainow formed curls •While hair is still decently saturated, distribute a small amount of Amika Hydro Rush leave-in and/or NYM curl defining cream, squish in, immediately plop into a t-shirt •Carefully release after 10-20 minutes & distribute a very light amount of Hairitage curl enhancing foam •Diffuse on cool until I can’t anymore
I switch around the order of things here & there in attempts to troubleshoot things, and I’m not loyal to basically any of these products I just use what I have access to. For a while I was throwing a little bit of Moroccan Oil on my ends when I was done with all this but quickly learned what I already knew but was denying… that oils are too heavy and, well, oily for me.
The problems I’m running into:
1.) Squish to condish works sooo very well for my curl pattern and helping to absorb the product, but I feel as though I just CANNOT get all of my shampoo or conditioner out of my hair without running it under the water like normal which kinda defeats the purpose, no?
2.) Everything I’m doing immediately creates a beautiful and distinct wave pattern, but as soon as I walk out of my house or it fully dries you’d never even know the curls were just there. I don’t know if it’s the product order, product choices, or the ingredients but I know it’s getting weighed down.
3.) Overnight styles other than braids?? Even if it stays in place for a day, I know there’s no saving it for a day 2. I’d just like to protect my hair overnight & keep next day styling easy without always having to commit to the crimped look.
TIA! :)

I used to walk with her, now I walk alone. We used to marvel at the beautiful houses together, now I look down at my feet. Each home we pass, a grain of salt in the wound, each house a reminder of what I lost. Even though it hurts, I still find myself continuing our walks. Sometimes pain is good. It reminds us that we are still living. I’d rather feel the pain of her passing, than not feel her at all.
She’s alive when I walk. She’s the shadow that strolls behind. Though I can’t see her, I can feel her. Her presence is like a windbreaker draped across my shoulders in an especially violent storm. The pain isn’t gone but it’s bearable when I’m moving. I can’t speak to her, but she’s there. When I trip over a root, a hand steadies me. When I veer off course, I feel a gentle nudge.
And every day I end up in front of the same abandoned house on Jackson Street.
A grand home, at least at one point it must’ve been. The windows are boarded closed. The door is locked. Beware trespasser signs are strewn haphazardly across the tangled mess of the once impressive lawn.
I feel her presence strongest here. It is almost tangible, as if she’s hiding behind a thin curtain. I call her, yet she never answers. I reach for her, yet I can never lay hands on her. It is here on my journey where my emotions get the best of me. Every day I come, every day I cry.
The neighbors look at me with trepidation, but long gone are my days of caring what others think. I stand there an old man, face in my hands and weep for the woman I lost. Let them think what they want, but my Lenore was worth every tear.
I feel a tap on my shoulder and look up to see the front door of the house swing wide. Light pours out of it, and there she is, my Lenore. I rush towards her and the gaping maw, towards the woman I’ve lost. The woman who heard my cries. The one who has returned for me.
As I barrel forward through the brambles and overgrown weeds, I hardly am aware of the scrapes and cuts. Nor does it bother me that I trip over a hidden bottle and go tumbling face first in the dirt. I sling myself forward with the stamina of a much younger man.
And then, I am there, standing in touching distance from her. She’s got the same strawberry blonde hair that always left me breathless. It’s wrapped in a French braid with a daisy tucked behind her left ear. She looks younger by nearly twenty years since the last time I've seen her. Her nose and cheeks are dusted with a fine layer of freckles.
I begin to giggle like a schoolboy as I remember I once tried to count them. Twenty-three was the highest I got before I found my mouth on hers. And suddenly I have an inappropriate urge to pull her close and continue the kiss in front of God and all the neighbors.
Shortly before I do just that, she vanishes, leaving me standing in the front door alone once more. I look around the hallway and notice it’s fully furnished. There is no dust or decay. The parlor is in perfect condition. Even more surprising, I hear someone playing the piano. It’s Fur Elise and I could recognize that sound anywhere. Lenore was playing it the day she died.
A writhing anger fills me at this thought. I don't want to think of that day. The day the sun stopped shining. The day my life was uprooted and tossed carelessly in the trash. I try my best to tune that cursed melody out of my mind, but it fights me tooth and nail at every turn. It refuses to depart like a troublesome guest unwilling to take a hint. Even still, I find my feet moving towards the sound.
The Turkish rug leading down the hall looks familiar, the pattern of the wolf howling at the moon, the picture of the ship sailing in rough seas. I know it. I walk forward, no longer in control over my own body. Instead, everything begins to flash in front of me like a movie. I know on the other side of the door is a set of stairs that leads to the great room.
Still, I don’t remember, I can’t remember. They threaten to come back, but I don’t let them. I don’t want to remember. A feeling of unease bubbles to the surface, bringing with it a queasy gurgling in the pit of my stomach. I feel my lunch begin to squirm its way back up, burning my throat and causing a tingling sensation deep in my nasal cavity.
I know all my efforts are fruitless. The memories will come back. The dam I built to hold them at bay has already begun to crack. It will crumble soon. I know enough to know that I don't want to know, yet the details of that day are fuzzy. With each step closer to the door they come into focus. And as my hand reaches for the gilded doorknob, all goes black.
I’m back.
Oh God have mercy on me, I’m back to the day my wife died.
I come to this conclusion even as my own traitorous hand throws wide the hallway door. I fight for control. I do everything in my power to not see. My eyes fling wide, and I look to see the back of my sweet Lenore’s head, the damned daisy still perched behind her ear. She’s playing and she doesn’t know I’ve arrived.
I know what is coming but I don’t want to. Yet those damned feet, those mutinous mother fuckers keep pushing me forward. First up one step then two, before I even know it, I’ve scaled half of them. Now I can see her back, she’s in a flowery dress with what looks to be hummingbirds sucking at the honey. Fur Elise is ramping up, and the song is nearing its climax.
And then I see it. Him to be precise. He’s lounging in my chair, drinking my whiskey, with his shirt partially unbuttoned. I take it all in. My brain makes the connections. Rage, white-hot fills me once more. I look to the left and then the right, and that’s when I see my cavalry saber hanging on the wall for decoration.
I remember the outcome, yet I can’t force myself to let go of its hilt. My hand turns white from grasping it so hard. There’s nothing I can do to lessen my grip. I see myself marching up behind her sword held high in one hand.
Fur Elise climaxes as my arm swings. I strike her left shoulder blade and with a discordant whine the music stops altogether. Inwardly I scream. I curse my God’s damned temper. I watch as she slumps out of her chair.
Without a second glance, I am charging the man just beginning to look up from his comfortable spot in my seat. My blade penetrates his right abdomen, he lets out one shriek before my second swing catches him directly in the throat.
I am appalled at the blood spurting from his nearly decapitated neck. My hands are scarlet, I feel wet stickiness oozing down my face. Yet I can’t control my own limbs as they swing and swing and swing, chopping the man into kindling. I try to close my eyes, but they won’t, so I see his hand go flying. I watch as his innards come bubbling out of his abdomen. I split his head like a grape and watch as his brain matter leaks out to the floor.
To my dismay, I hear a gurgling sound coming from behind me. I turn knowing what I’ll see but powerless to stop it. I look to see Lenore’s face towards me trying to speak. Blood bubbles drizzling out of the side of her mouth. I don’t need to hear the words to know what she is trying to say. “Please, no more.”
Pity fills my heart, and my own eyes refuse to cry. “Please don’t do this,” I scream at myself in vain. I watch as I slowly move towards my former wife letting the blade carve a wicked groove into the marble floor. With no mercy my arm swings the blade up once then twice then three times, and all goes black.
Finally, I regain control of my limbs and body. I look up to see a vandalized great hall with a nasty groove in the marble floor, and there my chopped wife lying on the floor looking up at me with dead yet still very much alive eyes.
I see the monstrosity of my late wife clamber to her feet. Her left eye slides out of its socket running like egg yolk down her face. Black pustule blood leaks from her wounds. Her right eye locks with mine and in a slobbering wet noise she says, “I will never let you forget what you did here. Jail wasn’t enough for you. You didn’t stay your hand, so even in your Alzheimer’s I won't let you forget. Same time tomorrow, honey?
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