Kadillac Kirk had been a good friend of mine for several years. I had met him through friends from The Spring Stage; and he never had anything to do with The Imp, which is why he didn’t appear in the Married Mary saga. Mary would have totally thrown herself at him, and Kirk would have definitely “thrown it in her.” He loved the ladies and often remarked that there was no such thing as an unappealing woman, nor was there anything sweeter than finding the pearl of passion in an outwardly plain dame. Fortunately for Kirk, he never met Mary. This was probably fortunate for Mary as well, seeing as Kirk was a confirmed bachelor and his rakish nature might have broken her fat heart.
Kirk was an older guy. Not MOE old, though. He was in his early forties, but he easily passed for a carefree dude in his 30s... not that he lied about his age. I only mention this trait to juxtapose Kirk’s genuine youthful air with Moe’s unconvincing youthful farce. Kirk dressed normally, avoided stupid jargon, and never busted out gimmicks like tarot cards or spells. He just existed, behaved affably, and people liked him for it.
He drove a classic 1962 Cadillac El Dorado convertible with red leather interior, and he lived in a charmingly quaint (and ridiculously expensive) neighborhood. How he made his fortune remained a mystery, but he never bloviated about his wealth. He just threw spectacular parties and people showed up. And, to my knowledge, he never tried to lure women into bed with his money (although I’m sure he got his fair share of boom-boom thanks to his digs and his wheels, even if the gold-diggers denied their monetary agendas).
Kirk was legitimately handsome. He was a drummer, he had a full head of black hair, he was clean-shaven, he worked out, and he knew all the hidden gems in Wellsprings. So why hadn’t I tried... or even desired to date him? I don’t know. I just didn’t feel drawn to him like that. He felt like a cool uncle and he had, thus far, never done anything to change my perception. Plus, the age difference weirded me out a little. Kirk didn’t look forty; but knowing that he had so much more life experience than I did created a power imbalance that would have creeped me out if we’d been dating. As buddies, I just felt supremely cool riding in his Cadillac, smoking Fantasia cigarettes, and hitting the speakeasies and jazz clubs I would have never known about if it weren’t for Kirk’s connections.
And he had been a good person to talk to about my romantic woes. He never lecherously suggested that I should date him, and he gave the type of tempered advice that only comes with lived experience. But he often lightly mocked me for my crush on Dennis and he did a hilarious impression of Smegal popping too soon over his “precious.” So when Mary “got me back” by doing whatever she did with to Dennis, I called Kadillac Kirk and told him the drinks were on me if he’d be my designated driver for the night.
Why hadn’t I called Whisky??? Well, A) Kirk was way more fun to hang out with, at least from my past experiences up to that point. And B) I needed to bitch about a boy, something I couldn’t do in good conscience in front of a guy I was dating. So I put on the sexiest plunging halter dress I owned, applied heavy eye makeup and spikey accessories, braved a pair of stilettos, and sashayed out to Kirk’s convertible. I felt like a badass rock star. I probably looked like a try-hard hooker.
Kirk: Daaaaay-um! Somebody really did do a number on you, huh? I know you said you were upset, but the gents are gonna be writing thank you notes to that fat girl and that butt-fucking hobbit.
Me: I just need to feel pretty and numb. And I trust you to keep me from making a fool of myself.
Kirk squeezed my shoulder. “I’ve got you. You do whatever you need to do to get rid of these demons.”
He sparked up a J and offered me the first puff. I gladly accepted. He took one puff of his own, but said that the rest was mine since he didn’t want to drive stoned. See? He was responsible! Weed wasn’t legal in California yet, so I got a little bit baked before I stashed the sativa in the glove box and wrapped a scarf around my hair like a starlet from the Golden Age of Hollywood. Kirk sped out of the parking lot and said he was taking me to a downtown hotel that was hosting a party that night in their lush lobby.
Kadillac Kirk pulled up to the main entrance, paid the valet, and then opened my door. I was wobbly from the weed. And I had stupidly decided to wear heels. You can get high or you can wear high (heels). You can’t have both. Not if you’ve repeatedly injured both ankles (as I have). I had to take Kirk’s arm to keep from keeling over. “Can people tell I’m stoned?” I whispered. Kirk replied, “Nobody’s paying any attention to anyone else’s intoxication. I promise you that much.” I nodded, steadied myself, and strutted alongside my very cool friend, feeling a little more confident.
A live jazz orchestra was playing Cole Porter as we entered the lobby. Everything sparkled. The music was even more intoxicating than the spliff had been. “Just One of Those Things” brought tears to my eyes since the lyrics hit every raw nerve regarding the Dennis debacle. But I smiled. It might sound mental, but being distraught over a trash fire of a one-sided romance was exhilarating. Immature, for sure. But also exhilarating. You see, that kind of sadness doesn’t hurt. Not really. It stings. It leaves little bruises, but it’s very safe to wallow in because you haven’t actually lost anything. Melancholia over that which you never had is as sweet as it is bitter; and that type of twisted splendor is rivaled only by Stendhal.
“Here's hoping we meet now and then. It was great fun, but it was just one of those things.” I sang along with the band, and a fat tear rolled down past my melancholic smile and onto my chin. Kirk brushed it aside. “Too close to home?” I wiped away the remnants of the tear’s journey from eye to chin and smiled a more genuine smile. “The perfect distance from home. Shall we get drinks? Remember, I’m buying.”
Kirk: No, no. This is your time to heal. And I’m here as your pal, not your chauffeur. What would the lady like?”
I pretended to barf. Kirk knew I hated it when he got overly formal and overly attentive. So he did it just to mess with me. “Shot of vodka,” I replied.
Kirk: How many?
I thought briefly. “FIVE.”
Kirk: Five to one, baby. One in five...
Me: No one here gets out alive.
Kirk: Are you able to hold yourself upright, or should you come with?
I took a seat on an ornate, damask-upholstered chaise lounge. “I’ll be okay. And I was kidding about the five shots.”
I sat there lost in the music for a while. I thought very little about Dennis. Even less about Mary. And not at all about Whisky (whom I had shagged less than a week ago). My mind danced through the ornate lighting in the hotel lobby, and I suddenly felt the need to join the hoity-toity guests on the dancefloor!
Kirk returned with four shots of vodka. Two for him, two for me. That was quite reasonable of him. He knew damn well that I couldn’t handle five shots, but he also knew that I was in a... state. One that called for more than a single shot. I raised a both miniature glasses to “No more ninnyhammers or hairy-footed lovers.” Kirk did his hilarious Smegal impression, we double-toasted, and downed the shots. The band launched into “Let’s Misbehave,” and I kicked off my stilettos and made a beeline for the dance floor.
“There’s something wild about you child that’s so contagious. Let’s be outrageous! Let’s misbehave.” Kadillac Kirk swept me up, twirled me around, and dipped me as we both sang along with the lyrics. I wasn’t swooning for him, but I was enthralled by the moment. The music, the dancing, the combination of booze and bud... so I kissed him as he pulled me back to my feet. And he kissed back. In a way that Dennis never had. In a way that Whisky’s beard wouldn’t permit. I didn’t feel the visceral sensations that I’d felt when Dennis had kissed me, but it felt nice to feel desired. And then I noticed that other guests were watching us and applauding. Now, that was a dopamine rush if ever there was one!
I gently broke away from the embrace, high-fived Kirk and returned to the chaise lounge to put my stupid shoes back on. He followed me and smashed his face back onto mine. I pulled away and laughed. “It was a moment,” I told him. “I appreciate the dance, and that kiss was the perfect finale. But it’s not happening again.”
Kirk: Not to worry, Valerie. I know you. I knew all along that we were performing, and I was more than happy to be your scene partner.
Me: And dance partner! Those were some excellent moves! I didn’t know you had ballroom training.
Kirk: You name it, I’ve mastered it. Another drink for the lady?
I pretended to barf again. “Not yet. I’m not sad right now. Do you mind if I just sit here and enjoy the music?”
Kirk: Ah. My kisses do have healing properties...
I flipped my hand up at him. “Knock that shit off, bro. I wanted to hang out with you because I trust you not to get weird. Even if I get weird, I know you have the maturity to balance me out.”
Kirk: Are you calling me old???
Me: No. I’m calling you rational, responsible, and respectful.
Kirk: Well, now. If you can articulate an alliterative statement that fluently, then you clearly aren’t drunk enough!
I dismissed this comment as a joke. And he did indeed knock off the flirtation. We had a perfectly pleasant time chatting and dancing (no more kissing, though). And then I noticed a girl I knew from Into the Woods entering the lobby. She’d played Florinda and I’d played Little Red. I called her name and waved enthusiastically. She waved back. And then her date entered. It was D.E.N.N.I.S. I sank into the chaise. Kirk caught on immediately. “The hobbit???” he asked. I nodded silently. “You wanna make out again?” he enthused. I shook my head. I had to go say hello to Flo. And I had an idea...
I crossed the lobby, smiled, squealed, and hugged her.
Florinda: Lil’ Red! It’s been forever! So glad to see you!!! This is my friend, Denny.
From the corner of my eye. I could see Dennis shifting uncomfortably. I refused to look directly at him, neglected to acknowledge Flo's introduction and continued to converse only with her. "So glad to see you, too! What have you been up to since we left the woods?"
Dennis: C’mon, Val...
Florinda (appearing oblivious to the iciness between me and Dennis): Oh, I had some drama after the show closed. I'll have to tell you about it some other time... Have you seen Prince Big Bad (Scumbanger) lately?
I laughed. “Last time I saw him, he was hitting on some nasty fat chick at The Imp.”
Flo and I both scoffed at the pervy pest. Into the Woods was where I’d initially met Scumbanger. He played The Wolf/Cinderella’s Prince. Again... typecasting. There’s a whole essay in my brain about my first encounter with the pest, during which he quoted the song that he sang to me in the show, “Hello, Little Girl.” But it gets into some pretty uncomfortable territory because he made me feel... excited. Well, excited and scared. Nothing of note happened during Into the Woods, but our odd interactions did kind of set the stage for some extremely regrettable events during that Cats cast party.
I excused myself, saying that I needed to get back to my friend. And then I leaned in and said in a hushed voice to Flo, “Watch your ass with that one. If he’s the Denny I’m thinking of...” I gave her a look that only another female would be able to read. Her eyebrows shot up and she nodded. Dennis continued to shift as though he were trying to hold in a massive dump. “BABE! Uh...”
Flo apparently answered to that moniker as well. “What is it, Denny? Don’t worry. That was just telepathic girl talk. You apparently have a reputation...”
Dennis: Different Denny. I assure you I’m a pious gentleman.
Me: Ah. My mistake. Well, then. You guys have a good time! They’re playing Cole Porter, and the band is delovely. Great to see you, Flo!
I hugged Flo again, gave Dennis a curt nod, ignored the scent of mandarins and mountain air, and returned to Kirk.
I collapsed on the chaise lounge, exhausted from holding back the rage. I had no right to be mad at Florinda. I hadn’t seen her in three years, so how was she supposed to know that I’d had a thing with Dennis? Hell, I couldn’t even be mad at Dennis because the last time he and I had spoken in any meaningful way, I’d told him that I was no longer entertaining my crush on him. So why was I surprised to see him dating??? And why had he never taken ME out on a date like this??? And why wasn’t I smitten with Kadillac Kirk who HAD taken me out on a date like this, was an objectively excellent kisser, and a bona fide BALLER? What was wrong with me???
Kirk suggested going down the street to a quaint little bar and then sobering up at a diner closer to my apartment. I numbly nodded and followed him in silence for a few blocks. He assured me that I had “turned several heads” on the way to the new location, but I neither cared nor believed him. This wasn't the type of numbness I'd been aiming for. Now I needed to get schnockered. “Five shots of vodka, please.” Yes, I was serious.
Kadillac Kirk, my reliable designated driver, ordered only a beer and watched in something across between astonishment, concern, and delight as I slammed all five shots in rapid succession. I half expected to immediately retch all over the bar. But I felt fine. I half expected to immediately lose consciousness and wake up in the hospital. But I remained coherent. How I’d managed to take in that much hard liquor and suffer no direct consequences, I’ll never know.
I think I wanted to suffer. I wanted to either feel nothing at all or to feel a sickness bad enough to distract me from the scorching sting that pulsed through my being when I realized that I had lost the abstract notion I’d been addicted to this entire time. Hope. It wasn’t Dennis himself I couldn’t quit. It was that drug called hope. The hope that maybe, just maybe Dennis would give our romance a fair chance. The hope that maybe, just maybe he would make peace with himself, get his mind out of his crotch, and enjoy some agenda-free togetherness. The hope that maybe, just maybe he would stop bloviating about his admittedly impressive accomplishments for five fucking minutes and ask about my life. I had my own reasonably impressive accomplishments, even if they paled in comparison to his. A proper suitor would have enjoyed hearing about them.
But seeing him out with another woman, a woman who had no reason to parade her Dennis escapades before me as some means of revenge, a woman he was clearly courting of his own volition... My hope had died. It died before I’d had time to wean myself off it. Now I had to mourn the loss of hope, which is a very tricky brand of grief to navigate. Vodka wasn’t the answer, but it was what I had to work with. So it would have to do.
After enough time had passed without vomiting or collapsing, I asked Kirk to bring his car around to the bar so that I didn’t have to walk two and a half blocks drunk and in heels. He nodded and dramatically leaned in for a kiss. I recoiled. “DUDE! I told you. The moment has passed.”
Kirk: I beg your pardon. I misread your eyes. Thought I saw a green light...
Me: It’s fine. I just want to go home while I’m still feeling okay.
Kirk: Of course. Your chariot will be here soon.
He skipped off to fetch his Cadillac and I noticed that the lights in the bar were beginning to dance a bit. This should have been concerning. But then I realized that I was giggling. Wait... What? Oh shit. Sure, I was drunk from those shots. But what I was feeling in that moment wasn’t drunkery. It was stonery. Kirk probably misread my face because my pupils were dilated. Not from desire, but from drug use.
Some of you might be thinking that I was a bad friend for not introducing Lucy, an old dude connoisseur, to Kirk. Well... I did. Several years before the events of this story. He adored her. She, on the other hand, thought he was immature. And she wasn’t wrong. Lucy was astute when it came to sussing out a person’s true nature. Far more astute than I. Her initial assessment that Kirk was immature is about to be vindicated. Stretch those cringe muscles! It’s almost time for pie...
I somehow managed to get to his car. I honestly don’t recall how I got there. Did one of the bartenders carry me? Did some kind patron allow me to lean on him? Had Kadillac Kirk carried me out? I’m not sure. But my memory ceases to be fuzzy about halfway to the 24-hour diner. It might have been the very same 24-hour diner where Mary pulled her... shenanigans. I’ll never know.
Kirk: Would you say that you’re more drunk or more stoned?
Me: STONED. Definitely stoned.
Kirk made some sort of grunty noise and reached for my thigh. I slapped his hand.
Kirk: Stoned but not amorous? That’s rare.
I started laughing rather unkindly. “You’re a fucking horndog! I thought you were my safe straight male friend, dammit.”
Kirk: I solemnly swear that your safety is my primary concern, my stoned beauty.
I pretended to throw up.
Kirk: So... You’re not horny. But are you hungry? The diner I’m heading to makes this Maple Walnut Pie with the most sumptuous... sensual cream and exquisite drizzling of...
Me: Ew! Stop trying to bang the pie. Bro. Are YOU stoned? (Then I remembered the question.) Yes, I’m hungry. But I don’t like nuts. I’ll have banana cream.
Kirk made that repulsive grunty noise again. “Uhhhhh... Mmmmmm. Cream. Yessssss. Yes, we’ll be there in just a minute.” He was squirming in the driver's seat.
Me: GROSS, DUDE! If you’re gonna be like that I’ll just order HASH brows. Get it? Hash??? (I giggled.) You can’t make that sound nasty.
Kirk: Forgive my jokes. I think my blood sugar’s a bit low.
As Kirk parked, I began to wonder how I might get away with walking shoeless into the diner. The stilettos had to get off my feet. At least while I was walking. And Kirk was kind enough to give me his socks and wear his loafers “island style” into the establishment. Okay, that was gallant of him. Maybe he was going to behave himself for the rest of the evening.
I wasn’t terribly talkative as we sat down, and he expressed a bit of concern for my emotional well-being. I wasn’t coherent enough to explain what was happening to my emotions and I wasn’t sure I trusted him with my deep, dark secrets at that point. So I shrugged like a sulky teenager, ran my hands over my messy, windblown hair, and mumbled that I was “just hungry.” And right on cue, a very kind, slightly older waitress with a sweet southern accent stopped by to take our order.
Kirk: Ah, yes. We’ll have two cups of black coffee. And we’ll share a slice of that delectable Maple Walnut Pie.
Waitress: Oh, honey. That pie is scrumptious! I take it you’ve been here before?
Kirk: I have. This will be her first time to taste the splendor.
I hated to be a killjoy, but I interrupted and said to the waitress, “Ma’am? I’m sure the Maple Walnut is excellent, but could I please get a slice of Banana Cream? And a big glass of ice water?
Waitress: Sure, hon! Banana Cream’s just as yummy! I’ll be right back with those coffees and that big water.
Kirk was sucking on the tip of his forefinger and shaking his head a bit. “You’re passing up so many sensational... sensual...”
I put my forehead on the table and growled. “You swore you’d stop being nasty!” I held this #headdesk pose for quite some time before I finally lifted my head... only to see that Kirk was still sucking his fingertip and staring at me like a wild animal. “Pleeeeeease be normal,” I whined. “It’s been a really weird night for me.”
Kirk: Indeed. Many surprises. You know... You’re like titanium. Your flame burns so fast and so bright, if a guy doesn’t get in there while the iron is hot, he’ll never get another chance. I was too slow.
What the...? I was pretty sure he was wrong about titanium burning quickly. I’m no chemistry wiz, but my dad and my oldest brother are both big-brains when it comes to physics and chemistry. So I picked up some things just listening to them talk. Accurate or inaccurate, Kirk was being creepy again. He’d never been creepy towards me before, although I’d seen him act like this with other women. Usually with staggering success. Why????? His money. It had to be his money. Kirk was a nice-looking man, but holy shit... No amount of good looks could save this creep show
And then, our sweet waitress sat down our coffees, my water, and the two slices of pie. After I gulped down a whole bunch of water, I grabbed a fork, prepared to quell my munchies... and then I froze. Kirk was quickly flicking his finger back and forth across the top of his pie. And moaning. He noticed my wide-eyed stare, smirked, sucked the tip of his thumb, picked up the plate with both hands, and began flicking his tongue across the tip of the triangular pie slice. And moaning some more. Well, there went my appetite.
Kirk took his middle finger and jabbed it into the crustless vertex of the pie slice, then he began pumping it in and out like a piston, and flicking his thumb across the increasingly demolished top layer of whipped cream. He gasped this time. People were starting to stare. His pointer finger joined his middle finger in the piston action, and he replaced his thumb with his tongue. Between flicks of the tongue, he groaned, “Oh yeah, baby... Let me taste you,” but it was kind of hard to understand him.
And I was either about to run to the back office, tell them that I was in danger and needed a police escort home... OR I was about to burst out laughing at the spectacle. Kirk continued... He removed his fingers and gregariously licked pie filling off of them. "Ohhhhh," he groaned, "I got you soooo sticky. So sweet. So moist." And then he started sucking his fingertips again, switching from middle to pointer, middle to pointer and emitting a delighted little, “Mmmmmm” with every suck.
Finally, he jabbed his fingers back into the utterly destroyed pie, lowered his face into the mess and lapped loudly and passionately, moaning, grunting, and mumbling “Come on, baby. Come on. Mmmmmm. Come on.” I could see the waitress and some dude in a suit heading over to the table, so I sank down in my seat, partially covered my face, but continued to watch the train wreck. At last, Kirk shuddered violently as he splatted his entire hand onto the plate and rubbed furiously. And then he locked eyes with me. He sucked the tip of his thumb one final time and said, “You...” There was a long pause during which Kirk lovingly stroked the mess he’d made. “You... are the pie.”
I don’t hang out with Kadillac Kirk anymore. But he’s still a bachelor, ladies!

Sourced from https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/DrinkingGame/ThomasAndFriends

• Whenever a character says "Confusion and delay", take a drink. Take another if it isn't the Fat ControlleSir Topham Hatt.
• Whenever the Fat ControlleSir Topham Hatt says "You're a really useful engine!", take a drink.
• Whenever Gordon says "Oh, the indignity!" or "Express coming through!", drink.
• When a character gets into an accident, drink.
  • Take another one if it's Percy.
  • Take four drinks if it’s Edward or Toby.
• Whenever Thomas does something stupid, drink.
• Whenever Gordon or James behave haughtily, drink.
  • Take another if it isn't Gordon or James, or if it causes an accident (if both happen, take a drink for each one).
• Whenever Thomas complains about his snow plough, drink.
• Whenever the narrator says "Then there was trouble" or "Luckily, no one was hurt", drink.
• Whenever Gordon boasts about himself, drink.
• Whenever James brags about his red paint, drink.
• Whenever Percy asks about the meaning of a word, drink.
• Whenever Duck brings up his Great Western heritage or starts talking about "two ways of doing things", drink (if both happen, treat it as a singular action).
• Whenever the narrator uses the phrase "[insert character's name here] was/felt cross/happy/sad", drink.
  • Take another if it isn't any of those three words.
• When the narrator says "Then, an idea flew into [insert character's name here]'s funnel", drink.
• Everytime the characters laugh spontaneously, drink.
• When Duncan is grumpy, drink.
• When Diesel acts like a jerk, drink.
  • Take another if he bumps an engine from behind.
• When Bill and Ben are Trolls, drink.
  • Whenever they argue, take another drink.
• Whenever Dart says "What he means is", drink.
• When a character says "Bust my buffers!" or "Cinders and ashes!", drink.
• In the Sharon Miller seasons, whenever a character uses rhyming and/or alliteration, drink until you get alcohol poisoning.
• During The Adventure Begins, take a shot every time someone says "See the world". If it isn't Thomas, take a second.
• Take a shot every time someone says "Master of the Railway". Two if it isn't Hiro himself.
• Take a shot in the movies if an insert vocal song starts playing.
• Look through Season 17, and take a drink every time a scene happens at Ulfstead Castle. Better line up a liver transplant in advance.
• Watch Season 18, and take a drink every time a scene happens at Brendam Docks. You probably won't survive after the previous one.
• Every time Spencer acts like a Jerkass, take a sip.
  • If the entire episode goes by without any mention of the Duke and Duchess, finish your drink.
• Take a sip every time the word "streamlined" is said.
• In the CGI seasons, take a drink if an engine other than Gordon pulls express coaches.
• Whenever Edward or Toby indulge in Self-Deprecation, drink.
• Whenever Cranky gets, well, cranky, drink.
• Whenever Marion unleashes her Motor Mouth, drink.
• Whenever Timothy falls for a prank, drink.
• If an engine skives off a job, drink.
  • Take two drinks if it isn't Thomas.
• When Gordon and Spencer race, drink.
• When Ferdinand says "That's right!", drink. Prepare for alcohol poisoning if you're watching Misty Island Rescue or Season 15.
• When Henry is ill, drink.
  • Take two if it's after his re-shape.
    • Another if he's pulling The Flying Kipper and it crashes.
• Take a drink whenever Annie and Claribel are both engaging in Not So Above It All behavior.
  • Take two if Daisy is involved.
• Take a sip when the big engines make fun of the little engines. Take another if it's the other way around.
• Take a drink whenever Thomas and Bertie race each other.
• Take a drink when the Troublesome Trucks misbehave. Take another if they cause an accident, or if you hear their high pitched laugh, or when there are shots of their faceplates.
  • Finish the drink if the accident results in them getting hurt or straight up torn apart and/or mutilated beyond repair from the crash.
• Take a shot whenever engines complain about another engine being late for their trains.
• Take a shot when the passengers complain about Sodor being a bad railway whenever a delay occurs.
• In the model seasons, take a drink whenever an engine rolls their eyes around when they're happy or got into an accident.
• In the model seasons, take two drinks if you spot studio equipment. Take four drinks if you don't need to rewind and pause.
• Whenever Donald and Douglas argue, drink.
• Whenever James says "Here's James!", drink. Prepare for alcohol poisoning if you're watching the late Brenner-era episodes.
• Whenever something bad happens to the Fat ControlleSir Topham Hatt, drink.
• Whenever the narrator says, "The Fat Controller was just looking forward to/enjoying "X and Y", when he hears bad news.
• If you're watching any episode from Seasons 8-16, take a drink whenever you see a goods train without a brake van coupled to it.
• Take a shot whenever Gordon complains about pulling goods trains. Take another if it's James.
• Take a drink whenever the Steamies insult or make fun of the Diesels. Take two drinks if it's the other way around.
• Take a drink whenever the narrator says "His (or [character name]'s) driver and fireman jumped clear".
  • Take two drinks if the narrator doesn't state what happened to the crew at all.
• In the Big World, Big Adventures seasons, take a drink for every Imagine Spot or Just Train Wrong moment.
• In the CGI seasons, take a drink every time Rosie makes a cameo.
• Take a drink every time Daisy encounters a bull.
• Take a drink whenever Daisy speaks Gratuitous French.
• Take a drink when James is the Butt-Monkey.

So, these imbeciles have gotten it itno their heads because bad word may have in part been developed in part by someone associated with the Eugenics movement we can't use that word. (I suspect the fetal achohol syndrome sufferers who wrote this don't like its become a alternative to a certain other beautiful word we can't use anymore). Also of course attacks the very concept of the asylum system that totally wouldn't be a good place to put every neurotic idiot who subscribes to the thought this article seeks to propagate. Also the attempt to tie that judge to weirdo white nationalists and the right as meaning just the right as a whole rather then a specific small section is funny. Should be noted both sides of the aisle united in TN to actually make this shit illegal and reprimanded said judge https://clarksvillenow.com/local/proposal-would-stop-judges-from-offering-less-jail-time-in-exchange-for-sterilization/
Also I love how they try to turn this into a diatribe against those who would like immigration lowered.

The Sinister History of the Word "Moron," Explained
It's much more than just a casual insult.
By Marlena Scott
September 12, 2017FWHTTB The science of eugenics and sex life, the regeneration of the human race (1914)Z4 Collection / Alamy Stock Photo
OG History is a Teen Vogue series where we unearth history not told through a white, cisheteropatriarchal lens. In this piece, writer Marlena Scott explores the history of of the word "moron," which is tied to the eugenics movement in the United States.
"Moron" is commonly used to describe someone who has made a decision that is perceived as unwise, or to scold oneself over a mistake or slipup. Whichever way the word is flung around, the origins of "moron" are far more sinister.
The term is attributed to psychologist and eugenicist Henry H. Goddard, who used it to describe “feeble-minded” individuals. It is closely tied to the United States’s involvement in eugenics, a scientific term, meaning "well-born," that describes the belief that the human population can be controlled by breeding to increase the occurrence of desirable heritable characteristics. It focuses on eliminating “undesirable” individuals, singling out unmarried mothers, people of color, the poor, and those with disabilities. In the United States, eugenics influenced much of the immigration and segregation policies in the 20th century. "Moron" and other words like it — such as "idiot" — were used to support racist, classist ideas and to advance white supremacy behind the mask of scientific advancement.
According to a report from NPR's Code Switch, "moron" was born of Goddard’s fascination with intelligence and his desire to measure what it was and what it was not. In the early 20th century, psychologists grouped people who fell behind the ideal measure of intelligence into three categories that we now recognize as casual insults: “imbecile,” “idiot,” and “feeble-minded.” Goddard, unsatisfied with the existing terms, coined "moron" to embody both low intelligence and behavioral deviance. None of these endured as medical terms, but at the time they were enough to institutionalize someone and sterilize them as a means to prevent them from reproducing.
Goddard organized patients by disease, habit, or condition, as laid out in his 1911 work, Heredity of Feeblemindedness. He analyzed and coded families with the following qualities: "A, alcoholic (habitual drunkard); B, blind; C, criminal; D, deaf; Dwf, dwarf; E, epileptic; F, feeble-minded, either black letter, or white letter on black ground (the former when sex is unknown); I, insane; M, migraine; N, normal; Sx, grave sexual offender; Sy, syphilitic; T, tuberculous; W, wanderer, tramp, or truant." Goddard wrote of one family: “The offspring of the feeble-minded woman and this feeble-minded man were three feeble-minded children and two others who died in infancy. An illegitimate child of this woman is feeble-minded and a criminal.”
"The idiot is not our greatest problem. He is indeed loathsome. ... Nevertheless, he lives his life and is done. He does not continue the race with a line of children like himself. ... It is the moron type that makes for us our great problem," Goddard said in 1912.
The volume of immigrants coming into the country during the early 20th century was the highest it had ever been. According to the U.S. Census Bureau, between 1901 and 1910, 8,795,400 people immigrated to the United States, primarily from the area then known as Austria-Hungary, Italy, and Germany. It was essential to Goddard's work to ensure there were no "feeble-minded morons" in the bunch, so he sent assistants to Ellis Island in 1913 to observe and identify "morons" according to his methods. As previously mentioned, one of Goddard's methods included a pseudoscientific coded guide that looked something like a family tree. Goddard would study families, code their behavior by letter, and draw conclusions that the feeble-mindedness or blindness or deafness of the preceding generation would affect the children. According NPR's Code Switch, 40% of Italians, Hungarians, and Jewish people that were tested qualified as "morons" and were deported in 1913. Deportations doubled the following year.
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Those labeled "moron" could be institutionalized, deported, or sterilized in order to create a race of humans deemed superior by those in positions of influence and power, according to a New Yorker piece on the history of eugenics. Eugenics was widely embraced in academia and even celebrated at the World's Fair. In the first half of the 20th century, this movement in the U.S. led to the involuntary sterilization of around 60,000 people, mostly women of child-bearing age, who were subjectively deemed unfit to reproduce.
Federally funded sterilization programs were legalized in 32 states. The state of Virginia passed its Eugenical Sterilization Act in 1924, and to test the legality of the law, Carrie Buck, a poor 17-year-old girl from Charlottesville, was sent to the Virginia Colony for Epileptics and Feeble-Minded — an asylum for those deemed so-called "morons" where her mother, Emma, had been admitted just a few years prior. Carrie was pregnant as the result of rape and, after giving birth, was sterilized at the colony with no understanding of what was happening to her. The move was backed by law and further supported by the Supreme Court, as demonstrated in the 1927 Buck v. Bell case, in which the court ruled that the sterilization of the "unfit" — including the intellectually disabled — did not violate the due process clause of the Fourteenth Amendment. After observing Buck, her mother, and her grandmother — all poor white women — Justice Oliver Wendell Holmes, Jr. delivered the opinion of the court, writing, "three generations of imbeciles was enough." This decision has never been overturned.
If this thought process sounds grossly aligned with ideals promoted in Nazi Germany, that’s because it is — but eugenics and the attempt to discontinue “feeble” bloodlines is American-bred. In the 1930s, Nazi leadership turned to American eugenics as inspiration in developing tactics to ensure the erasure of European Jews. In Mein Kampf, Adolf Hilter wrote, “There is today one state in which at least weak beginnings toward a better conception [of immigration] are noticeable. Of course, it is not our model German Republic, but [the U.S.] …”
Southern black women were sterilized en masse, often without consent, for much of the 20th century. It was a practice so common that it received a nickname: a "Mississippi appendectomy." The sterilization of Native Americans occurred as late as the 1980s. While some states have formally apologized for their role in the practice, the desire to control “undesirable” groups still persists among some in the U.S., leaving vulnerable populations at risk.
In May, Sam Benningfield, a general sessions judge in Tennessee, announced that he would offer shorter prison sentences to inmates — a population largely impacted by the nation's ongoing opioid crisis — who would undergo vasectomies or receive the birth control implant Nexplanon. "I'm trying to help these folks begin to think about taking responsibility for their life and giving them a leg up — you know, when they get out of jail — to perhaps rehabilitate themselves and not be burdened again with unwanted children and all that comes with that," Benningfield told CBS News. In July, the judge pulled the offer following protest from health officials and civil rights attorneys, according to The Washington Post.
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Nine decades after Carrie Buck was sterilized, white nationalists, white supremacists, neo-Nazis, and the so-called "alt-right" gathered in her hometown for "Unite the Right" rallies on August 11 and 12. Many of those present called for a "purer" race of human beings and chanted phrases like, "You will not replace us." The weekend ended in violence and the death of Heather Heyer, a 32-year-old woman who was killed when a driver slammed into a crowd of anti-racism counterprotesters.

Road accidents are super common in India, claiming about half a million lives in India every year. About ~15% of them are hit and run cases. Most perpetrators who are (big or small) car owners get away with the crime by installing a driver at the scene like Salman Khan did. The going rate for such a driver is about Rs. 1 lakh in tier-2 cities.
This makes one wonder why, suddenly, this 17 year old rich kid's case has got the nation furious and angry at irresponsible drivers. Granted, expensive car hit and run cases do become instant news, but there's been lots of BMW and Audi accidents in the last 4-5 years that haven't received this type of coverage.
The only difference I could notice between this case and countless others is that the victims this time were bourgeois. They weren't just some random villagers or city slum dwellers whose lives don't matter to the bourgeois public. They were up and coming IT workers. The media-addicted middle class public sees themselves in the two victims and hence these thoughts and prayers and thirst for justice. Buses full of poor children have taken many lives in the past with not even 1% the attention this case has garnered.
It is the same reason why a light skinned educated and rich looking girl selling Vada Pav is considered "hard working", and how a little pudgy punjabi boy from Delhi wearing branded clothes selling tikki-chhole starts serious discussion about child labor. There are 1000s of times as many young men, women and children of the proletariat living much harder lives.
Due to the stratification and calcification of India into various poor classes, various middle classes, and various rich classes, many of us have become completely blind to the plight of the poorer classes. We don't even see them as Indians. If we see them hurt, we first think about the potential scam and police bribery situation instead of thinking about the human in front of us. Whereas, if we see a light skinned girl or boy in jeans get so much as even a scratch at the mall, we're happy to provide any help we can.
I see no practical solution to this. I'm just observing what I see.
I think this is part of the reason why CPI(M)'s actual work on the ground goes unnoticed. Because they stand with the poor classes and workers, and that hardly creates a story as exciting as naughty jokes on the Kapil Sharma show or the various methods by which people like to enjoy mangoes.

Had to visit the gynecologist today because of irregular period perimenopause nonsense. They did a bunch of tests to “rule things out” in the office. And they wanted to do a procedure called an EMD at the same time. It’s a biopsy of the endometrial lining of the uterus.
I asked what kind of anesthesia would be used. They said, usually they don’t do any. So, I had them walk me through the procedure. They open your cervix and then stick a tool in there where they remove a piece of the uterine lining. I said, well, that sounds pretty invasive. I’d like some kind of anesthesia. The doctor was like, oh of course we can do that, but you have to come back when you have a driver and we have to call in a script. I said, fine. Let’s do that.
They were so surprised! Not sure if it was surprise that I was able to take time off and get a ride to and from the procedure. Or if it was surprise that I didn’t want a surgical procedure done on my reproductive organs without any kind of pain relief. Can you imagine them telling a dude they will just shove a sharp object in their penis and cut a piece out without even a Valium? You may experience some pressure and cramping in your penis, sir, but go in raw and it’ll be fine. The screaming, lawsuits, the holes punched in exam room walls if men were subjected to this!
A good friend had told me just last week about getting a similar procedure. She had a biopsy of her cervix without any kind of medication. My friend said it was one of the most painful things she had experienced. She had cramping and bleeding and pain for days after.
Just wanted everyone to know that you can request anti-anxiety medicine, local anesthetic, pain relief, and whatever you want. I’m not sure why docs are so against providing relief during these surgical procedures on our lady parts. I’ve heard everything from disbelief in women’s pain to cheapness, to laziness, to that’s how we’ve always done it. Whatever it is, you don’t have to put up with it.

Man versus machine, it's sort of a paradox, in a way. Men are better than machines, obviously, and that should just be the natural order. It's not always so simple, however. After all, for better or worse, a machine will always be a tool. And men define themselves by what they prevail over, requiring such tools to see themselves how they really are.
Reggi was my college sweetheart. We had a real-life campus rom com relationship. I was young and I made a mistake, thinking we should part, as I longed for some horizon I can't even remember thinking I wanted. So, I told her I wasn't ready for a career, family, house payments and marriage. Those were my words. Reggi just shrugged and asked me when would I be ready, and I really thought I was being honest and told her I wasn't ever going to be.
Her aunt is the owner of that adult toy company for women, the one called Machine V Man, affectionately with the logo MVM in a crafty design. She made it all up, when she realized early on she wanted to be an inventor, a toymaker. The one she had was already better than any man, and her rags to riches, entrepreneur backstory made her the spokeswoman of her own product, her satisfied smug smile on billboards everywhere. She doesn't need a man, she's happier than you, and she's rich. That's Reggi's aunt.
When I arrived at Reggi's spring break at her aunt's begging her to take me back, after quickly realizing I hated the prospect of a life without her, I was met by Aunt Foezoe's insane mechanical monstrosity. "I can't let you in. I'll be in trouble, but I can tell Reggi to come here, and then you'll have a chance to speak to her. Cool?"
"Are you trying to chad me?" I asked the Black Tie Mandroid. I suddenly realized this was no ordinary robot. Most Mandroids are only good at playing boyfriend, but this one was different, a more expensive class, a Black Tie, and this particular one was some kind of prototype. The most sophisticated one of them all, Aunt Foezoe's personal toy.
"There's no reason we can't get along, bro." The Black Tie said. Its face and movements and flesh looked almost completely real. If I didn't know it was a machine, I wouldn't know it was a machine. There are people who couldn't tell this one from a real person, this one was different.
"My name's not bro." I shook my head. "Just tell her to come here."
"I know your name. I wasn't going to tell her you're waiting, she might not come see you. She doesn't want to see you. I'm going to get in trouble. What's the problem?" The Black Tie spoke with some inflections, having thought about the situation and followed his rules. I was thinking of it as a him, at that point. It was hard not to.
"Why are you helping me?" I asked him.
"My name is Kbar. I can decide to emulate any social behavior my mistress has approved of. This is romantic intrigue, so long as you don't pose a threat to Reggi. If you do, I am licensed as a home defense system and I will use force to detain you, and I will injure you to ensure you cannot escape until you are arrested. Just so you know, bro." Kbar smiled coldly at me, his eyes so steady they sent a chill down my spine.
"I just want to see her. I'm cool." I told Kbar.
"I know." Kbar said with confidence. "But I just want to be clear. I'm in charge here, bro, so don't step out of line."
"I see." I said, nodding. The machine walked back to the house, leaving me there at the gate.
Reggi saw me there and walked to meet me, opening the gate and letting me in. We strolled the gardens of the estate, and I apologized and begged and I even cried when she ripped my heart out.
"I don't love you like that anymore. I just, I think I just want my own special destiny out there, with lots of different adventures. Not just with you, I think I will be single. I'm good." Reggi said. She hadn't said anything else.
"That's it?" I didn't want to go, I couldn't believe it.
"I hate seeing you like this. Could you just go?" Reggi pointed at the gate.
"Not until you tell me what we had was important to you, you loved me, what happened?" I was upset. Reggi just shook her head at me and started walking away. I tried to follow her, but Kbar had his hand on my shoulder from out of thin air.
"Time for you to go." Kbar escorted me to the gate, firmly holding my bicep in his vicelike grip. I wondered just how strong this thing might be, and realized I didn't want to find out.
"So much for bros." I said to Kbar as he roughly shoved me out the gate.
"You're not welcome here anymore. Come back and next time I won't be so friendly." Kbar stared me down. I flinched, looking away.
"You suck." I told the robot.
"Very mature. I can see why she found you amusing while she was in college. She's a grown woman now, and she needs a real man. I know one who never gives up. They say 'Mandroids never quit' if you catch my meaning." Kbar smiled, and his smile looked genuinely arrogant. I hated it.
I left, but I decided that I wasn't going to give up either, wasn't going to quit. The dawn of a tool that couldn't give up was challenging something in me that insisted I could do better. I could beat that thing, somehow.
My three friends found me inconsolable, and promised they would each lend their special talent to help me win back Reggi.
My first friend came to my home late that night with the technical readings of not only the Black Tie, but specifically Kbar. He pointed out where Kbar's vital spots were in his body. He essentially had a weak spot right where his heart should be. Good to know, but the command codes for him weren't going to help me, since he wouldn't recognize me as a commander.
There was one behavioral note I found interesting.
"Those are all of his factory choreographs. He learns the rest in the bedroom, but you see he starts with some basic instincts. The rest of these are more formal movements, walking, driving, dancing, performing CPR, painting, climbing, swimming, horseback riding, swordsmanship..."
"Wait- what's that last one?" I asked.
"Swordsmanship. It's a standard option for a Black Tie. He's also a black belt if you want to read the rest."
"No thanks. I know how to use a sword. That's how I am getting her attention."
"So, we're not doing the mariachi thing?"
"No. That's out. We're going to bring swords."
"Where are we going to get actual swords?"
And that is where my second friend excelled. After hours, we went to his place of business or his father's place of business and set up a forge out back. The salvage yard had everything we needed, except the knowledge of how to hammer out two swords, so we took a crash course on YouTube. Upon the shoulders of giants, we had hammered out two decent swords by sunrise.
"The cumulative knowledge of all Mankind." He'd called the Internet.
"You're too romantic, ninety percent of the activity involves porn."
"That's what I just said."
"I thought you were talking about the swords."
"No. Those are sweet, and it's almost amazing we can just make them overnight with just an hour of research and a salvage yard."
"It's what they are for, these blades are holy." I looked at the swords.
"You're probably going to get cut or killed by one of them. Good thing we made them sharp as razors. I love you man, good luck."
I went to my third friend, and he dressed me in a tuxedo and put me in the back of his limo. I held the bundle of swords wrapped in a white cloth and a red cloth by the old lady at the tuxedo shop.
"To the party, then?" My friend had opened the door for me, wearing his driver's uniform.
We arrived at Reggi's debut, a grand gala. I was let out by my driver, and rudely went past the two Mandroid valet. I had the two swords together and I wore my suit, unsure what was sharpest.
I mingled, avoiding the Mandroids. Then I saw her. Reggi was at the top of the double stairs, shimmering like a goddess. I'd always seen her as the most beautiful of all women, and I saw her at her most beautiful, or so I thought at the time and for long after.
She was halfway down the stairs when she saw me, and she stared and hesitated. Her aunt looked and saw me, and so did Kbar. Reggi finished descending to her reception, but my intrusion had not gone unnoticed.
Kbar instructed his boys to escort me out quietly. I wasn't going without a fight. I made my way through the crowds to the center of the ballrooom, where I had plenty of room. The Mandroids rolled up their sleeve and looked sure they could remove me. Any of them could bench press me and there were a dozen of them. I dropped the bundle of swords with a resonating clang.
I was looking not at the closing Mandroids but at Kbar. He had his back to me, partially, holding a drink and telling a joke. When he heard the clang he did an about face while setting his drink on a tray, all in one fluid motion instantly. He was staring right at me, I had his attention.
Terror flooded my veins, making my hands feel slippery and my eyes sting with sweat. I was not able act, for a moment, frozen in absolute panic as Kbar strode towards me, closing the ballroom doors behind him and yelling to his minions: "He's mine!"
Murmurs in the reception hall could he heard, guests had noticed the dramatic scene unfolding in the ballroom, although Kbar had pulled close the doors as he entered. The ballroom doors opened and there were guests watching. Reggi was watching.
I realized I'd never have another chance to do this. I unrolled the swords and took one up. A Mandroid ran at me, trying to tackle me and I acted on reflex, sidestepping him and slashing as he passed me, neatly severing his head. I felt sick as the Mandroid's mechanical fluids gushed everywhere.
"You'll pay for that." Kbar snarled, sounding angry. He claimed the second sword and demonstrated he could slash it rapidly through the air in some convincing practice combos.
"Nice sword. It has weak spots, so does yours. This one is better." Kbar said with trembling anger beneath a false calmness as he circled me.
"Are you going to kill me?" I asked.
"Yes. On guard." Kbar said.
I looked to be sure that everyone had heard him say he'd kill me. I hoped it would help get me out of trouble if I survived. I realized how stupid I was, and lifted my sword on guard anyway.
Kbar came out of nowhere and beat it from my hand in just two blows. I stood at his mercy while he villain laughed and menaced me with his blade.
"Pick it back up." Kbar taunted.
I went for it and he came at me the second my hand touched the handle. I staggered back and he swung where my face was, only cutting my cheek. I dropped the sword and reclaimed it, on my knees for a second blocking two attempts to cut my arms off at the shoulder.
"You're not a bad swordsman. Too bad you are not as good as me." Kbar struck from a resting pose without warning sent my sword clattering across the floor. I scrambled after it while he slashed the air behind me. "Your problem is a lack of tenacity."
"Yours-" I said as I turned on him, between his slashes at my heels. "You underestimated me."
"How?" Kbar looked at the sword protruding from his chest. I'd hit his heart, impaling the blade.
"She's seen I would die for her. I don't need tenacity, I've got veracity." I thought I sounded really clever, my adreneline had me feeling so wild I'm glad I didn't kiss him after he dropped dead. Glad I just said a line. Okay, I didn't say anything. I ran over and pulled my sword out of him and cradled him while he said:
"I'm, I'm going cold. Why, why like this?" Kbar shivered, his mechanical fluids leaking everywhere.
"Don't be dramatic." I felt sad, but told him to keep it stiff.
"John Conner - give me your energy!" Kbar whispered.
"That's my line." I said. "John Henry and Robocop, they be like - take my energy!"
"That's good. You should, you should use that." Kbar smiled like a chad, twitched and then the glow in his eyes was gone.
I stood up, dropped the sword and looked up to see if Reggi accepted me.

This was a horror book I read as a teenager so not sure of the year BUT I read it in the 90s. I thought the name of it was "Evil" for some reason and have looked for it for many years but can't seem to find it. A few men and women meet up at their HCR. They leave the school and go to a house that they rented. Eve has cancer but she doesn't tell the others. The Golden boy was "Johnny" I believe. Tim was the comedic relief but ended up with his head on a pole, bumping up against a window. I believe Eve was the only one to escape this horrific house but the truck driver she hails to help her has a blade and that's where the story ends. I've been looking for this book since at least 2000.

Social media showoffs are shaming me off my backside
By Jeremy Clarkson (The Sunday Times, May 29)
An extensive study has found that fat people are twice as likely to stay at home and not do any work as thin people. This is costing the country eleven hundred and seventy billion a year and everyone is running around wondering what on earth can be done to stamp out this slobbishness.
The Tories say the answer is to make sickness benefits harder to get, while Labour says it’s going to change the school curriculum so that kids spend less time in the classroom learning about important stuff such as pronouns and diversity, and more time in the playground doing star jumps. And it is going to ban adverts for fast food.
That won’t work, though. When I wake up in the morning with a thick head and a mouth full of what feels like wallpaper paste, I know that a Big Mac will soak up all the sick and sort me out. And if McDonald’s is banned from advertising its products, it’s not as if I’ll suddenly forget.
The main problem I have with this fat-makes-you-lazy theory is that I can think of lots of fat people with a good work ethic. Cyril Smith, for instance. He was very busy. So was Henry VIII. And so, if I’m honest, am I. Yes, I realise that I’m seen by many to be the sexiest man alive, but underneath the muddy tweed coats I am something of a porker. And I haven’t had a day off sick since the 1980s, when I was actually much thinner.
I have more evidence to back this up. When I first went to Vietnam in the early 1990s, the vast majority of the population was as thin as it was industrious. People ate tiny portions of fatless food, so the men looked as if they’d stepped out of a Lowry painting and the women, in their ao dai dresses, were the personification of style and elegance.
Then, in 1997, western food arrived — so if you go to Vietnam today, everyone is as big as they are in Barnsley. Has this slowed them down? Has it hell as like. They may be carrying a few extra pounds, but the Mekong still looks like the Port of London did in the 19th century, and the Vietnamese capacity for building factories makes the Chinese look slovenly.
So I think that the people who conducted this study have got it the wrong way round. Fatness doesn’t make someone lazy. Lazy people become fat. You may start out looking like Willem Dafoe or one of those heroin chic catwalk models, but if you sit in front of the TV all day, watching Homes Under the Hammer and washing the endless frozen pizzas and crisps down with gallons of full-fat Coca-Cola, you will quickly become a human barrage balloon. And soon you will be too enormous to work because you can’t even get out of the front door.
It’s not obesity that needs tackling, then. It’s the root cause: bone idleness. And that brings me on to another study, which suggests that if you sit around all day lazily looking at Instagram and TikTok and X, you will soon become Jabba the Hutt and you will die at the age of 19, from fatness.
There are all kinds of hare-brained theories, from (usually American) professors who want to get their names in the paper, saying that people who use their phones for five hours a day are 43 per cent more likely to develop a fatberg in their colon, and that if you spend half an hour scrolling while on the loo, you will be too vast to stand up again. Unless you have a rectal prolapse, which is another likely outcome.
This is all nonsense, because the truth of the matter is that social media is as motivating as Jordan Belfort. Honestly, I can think of nothing that is more likely to make a fatso get off its couch and go for a lumber round the local park. Nothing.
As I have already explained, I wake sometimes on a Sunday morning in a puddle of self-inflicted misery and when I tune into TikTok to take my mind off the pain, I am assaulted with a never-ending stream of videos featuring people making the most of their weekends. They’re out for a bike ride, or they’re growing asparagus and radishes.
There’s one girl in what I suspect is Milton Keynes who goes into her back garden every day and films herself skipping. I want to throttle her because I know I should be in the garden skipping too, or making a little house for the blue tits, or climbing Snowdon, or whatever the Labour Party has called it these days. These perfect strangers send me on a guilt trip. And surely they must do the same for the lazy people who are watching as well.
It’s even worse on Instagram, because here it’s my friends — hiking in the hills of southern France, or having a family picnic with bread they’ve made themselves, or chopping logs. It’s like I’m living vicariously in one of those Ski yoghurt commercials where everyone somersaulted out of bed and got on a horse. And I’m lying there unable to decide who I want to shoot more: them or me.
Even on the platform of bile and madness, X, things are no better, because here we find people energetically marching to demonstrate how feverishly they want to end oil and plastic and business, and spraying paintings and trying to smash Magna Carta. Not sure what the reasoning was for that one, but at least they were up and about, doing something with their lives.
I’m aware, of course, that social media has its faults, but causing obesity isn’t one of them. You never see fat people on there eating crisps and smoking and getting sloshed. It’s people in store rooms and warehouses and offices having a laugh, and it therefore does a better job of making work look like fun than a boring man with adenoids and Playmobil hair saying he’s going to ban Ronald McDonald from our lives.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
And here's the Sun column: "Formula 4 champ Abbi Pulling proves you don’t need testosterone or neck like birthday cake to be top racing driver"
An excerpt: "For the second year on the trot, a poll of 2,000 women has revealed that the sexiest man in the UK is . . . me. I’m sexier even than Idris Elba and Cillian Murphy and King Charles. And a lot sexier than Piers Morgan who limped home in a pathetic 40th place. I think he was even beaten by Joseph Merrick. Obviously, I’m amazed by the result but only because so many people say they’re surprised."
Clarkson's columns are regularly collected as books. You can buy them from his boss or your local bookshop.

My biggest problems are logical thinking, visual spatial Memory, overall Memory and I have probably dyspraxia. I dont have problems in language/writing area.
But in every relationship I had...they were Always treating me like a baby or like they were my teacher. They would get mad at me because I couldnt Remember things when they were telling me their days, or hobbies.
' I have already told you this/you asked me that before '
They would Say things like ' dont do that/ dont day that ' and basically controlling everything I was saying. Or I would do basic errors like forgetting where I park my car or forgetting roads I do everyday. Having no Life experience and forgetting my car After few minutes After I parked...She yelled at me and then She was like ' if you dont have Memory I Will have enough Memory for US '. How do you read that? I read that as charity work...literally treated like a mentally challenged person. Same happens when something was broken in the house, I didnt know how to fix even simple problems like fixing a flat tire. She would Always make comparison with her father Who was tall and he knew how tò fix things exc She would not feel safe even when I was driving, even if Im a good driver...She would be suspicious about everything I said or nagging.
Other than disrespect I think this happens a lot in ADHD cases, I think women are repulsed by someone they have to take care...as a baby. And if hes short...its even more rougg, all these relationship didnt last a lot.

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

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

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I'm writing this because I have been dealing with some sort of déjà vu and/or premonitions the past 2+ months.
For context: I left a job in Feb/March to join another company. When I made the decision to leave my past job, I was driving on a road that normally has cars, but this time there were none. The sun was shining in my face and I felt relief/peace at that time. Almost, like I was headed in the right direction.
Before all of this, I did not have a religion that I identified with, but I did believe in a higher power.
Anyway, there was a night where I had dreams that were more vivid than usual. (Context: I generally have vivid dreams that I remember, and I do lucid dream at times. I also do not do drugs - I know it sounds like a trip, but it can't be.)
This dream was different. It was basically my future life on billions of tv screens showing every possible outcome in my near and distant future. With that many outcomes and directions, it's very difficult to remember the "perfect" combination to go down, right? I like to think so because I certainly have not, but I haven't gone down the worst paths either.
The déjà vu didn't hit me right away. There were times at my new job where I would sit in a virtual meeting and feel like… wow, I've worked here before right? I interviewed or worked on some project with these people. But I hadn't. I met with a few leaders in the company and that was it before being hired because I had previously worked with my boss at my last job. (Context: he was laid off and I took over leading the team. However, I joined because I believed in this leader and thought things would play out as he had said.)
Anyway, the following parts are events that I experienced over the past 2 months that were a part of that "night".

1. I started dating again after not dating since 2023. I met 3 women who I swear I went out with before, and had been to these date locations or their home in the past. That was not the case. I searched all my tracking data on apps, past text messages, etc. No digital record. Also, at one of the coffee shops, I remember yellow chairs, sure enough, all the chairs were yellow. \[I had never been to this café before.\]
2. I scheduled an uber when I arrived to Arizona for an event. He was on the other side of the airport so I canceled it and rebooked another driver. Well this driver opened up to me. I basically relived this experience from my dream.
3. I left my phone in a self-driving car in Arizona. In the dream, I told myself to grab the handle that was nearest to me when realizing I didn't have my phone, but I essentially did what I did in the dream. Which was go around the car to my door to see if my phone was there. It was, but it was too late to get it.a. During that time, strangers guided me to get my phone back somewhat quickly. Looking back on it, there were too many things to occur for it to be a coincidence.
4. I went to a hosted dinner in Arizona where other companies sponsored it with mine. I sensed a lot of evil in the room and temptation. Nothing illegal or illicit was going on, but it felt like people were peering into my soul and drooling. I know that sounds crazy, but the welcoming treat was one of my favorite snacks in the world. Since that evening, I can't stand to look at it. I did not take or consumer the baked good either. Anyway, I left the dinner less than 30 min into it because of what I was sensing. But, during that time, I did talk to a few people and no one had been drinking yet. (I don't drink.) Anyway, I met ran into 1 of those people the next day and he introduced himself to me like he had never met me. I didn't say anything of it.
5. Another night during this event, I took a phone call from a friend. I walked away from the dinner table which was outdoors. 100+ people were there. Anyway, apparently my boss made/took a call shortly after, and while I was on my call, looking down from the hill. He was keeping me in view. This is something that I remember vividly from the dream. Anyway, I came down the hill and as I'm walking down, he started to walk away as well, which seemed strange because I wasn't walking directly to him. \[The timing of him walking when he saw me walk down is what caught me by surprise.\]
6. At the same event, I ended up on stage for photos with prominent people in this industry. I shouldn't have been up there, but it happened. Again, this was in my dream. \[My boss seemed a little jealous of this, and I even offered him to take my spot or to see if I could get him a spot, but I didn't have any luck.\]
7. There were more events that occurred during this trip, like walking by myself after the dinner and sensing it was time for me to leave. I walked to the entrance of the resort and I sensed something was going to be there… well, there were ambulances and fire trucks.
8. The Friday I got back to my hometown, a friend who has recently found religion called me out of the blue. This is one that really stands out because of the emotion I felt in the dream. Anyway, I told him about what was going on and that his call was a sign/from my dream. I asked him if anything had urged him to call me and he said he had a feeling he needed to call me. This is someone I haven't talked to in 6-9 months. I didn't attend his wedding and basically ghosted him because I was really busy/stressed from my previous job. \[I know that was shitty, but there were other reasons like him asking for money ($10k)…) Anyway, I broke down crying and I remember the sense of relief/feelings that overwhelmed me from this event I feel like I relived.
9. Fast forward to my son's birthday. We went to a zoo that we had never been to together. So many things happened. Like, me getting a bloody nose in the same spot as my dream. I'm prone to getting bloody noses during this time of year, but déjà vu. Then, me taking pictures of my son that I swear I took before or experienced. Also, my son wanting to buy a "stuffy" at the gift store, and at one point he tried picky out a snake, which made my jaw drop because it was in the dream…
10. Work has progressively added more and more déjà vu moments. To the point that this week someone called 5/15 the ides of May, and someone in a meeting said this is déjà vu. Also, there are other things at work, but I do not want to share.
11. I've had conversations with friends recently where they have shared things about religion that we have never talked about.

I strongly believe had I not experienced these events before, I would be stressed to the limits. I'm bewildered if anything. I'm not sure how to interpret this or if anyone has experienced anything to this level. I know I have friends who have experienced moments of déjà vu/ premonitions, but nothing to this extent. If you read this and you have experienced anything like this, or if it moves you in anyway, please DM me or comment.
Thank you all :)

Hello,
Has anybody had a home visit from USCIS? My wife and I submitted our I-485, I-130, I-765, & I-131 in April 2023. We've been married for almost two years now, and we submitted as much evidence as possible, including bank statements, insurance, etc. I received my I-765 approval in November 2023 and we had an interview in December 2023 (We were separated, my wife was for 1 hour and I was 45 minutes, our answers machted 90%, the agent was rude and very strong with us) and my I-131 in March 2024. (We are two womens, 24 years old and 29 years old, I am from Colombia and my wife from USA, I am not sure where is my office field but we live in Madison, WI and our interview was in Milwaukee, WI)
On May 2nd, two immigration officers called me around 8:30 am, informing me that they were at my apartment. I had to go there and open the door. They took photos of our pictures, correspondence, toothbrushes, closet, etc. They were very nice and asked a couple of questions, but not too many. My wife was at work, and we live with my cousin. They asked to see my cousin's bedroom and also asked me if he has kids (he does not). They opened a folder and showed me face pictures of two kids (I don't know who they are), and on the left side was a face picture of my cousin (all pictures without backgrounds). They also requested to see my call history, text history with my wife, and took screenshots of those.
Before calling me, they went to my landlord's office requesting my original application. My landlord was not comfortable giving them any information without my authorization. They said that was okay and informed her that if they needed to obtain that information, they would give her a court order to do so.
The visit lasted no more than 15 minutes. On the way downstairs, they requested to see the mailbox to check if our names were there and took a photo of it.
Now, I am not sure what the next step is. I asked them, and they told me that I should expect to hear from them soon. They should send their notes and photos to the USCIS agent assigned to my case.
Has anyone had a similar experience? Should I expect another home visit or a visit to my job? Also, we own a property, but it is currently rented out. Should we expect a visit to that house?
UPDATE: A question left me a bit confused when they asked for my wife's passport. Unfortunately, I didn't quite understand the question because I speak little English. I thought they were asking for my passport. At that moment, I couldn't recall where she had put her passport. After the visit, I remembered she had it in her car because she had lost her driver's license and was using the passport as identification. Due to my nervousness at that moment, I responded, 'She doesn't have it,' but what I meant was she didn't have it in our house. They interpreted my response as if she didn't have one at all, which has left me somewhat pensive.

If there was a word to describe Shaw, it was anxious. Even since he was a lad, he’d been plagued by a paranoia that bordered on illness. He saw shadows where others saw light and whispers where others heard silence. This constant state of vigilance made him a difficult man to know and an even harder man to befriend. His mind was always racing, always strategizing, always expecting the worst. It was both his curse and his salvation.
Shaw's upbringing did little to quell these instincts. Born into bondage, he learned early on that trust was a luxury he couldn't afford. Every friendly gesture was scrutinized, every helping hand inspected for hidden daggers. While isolated, this mindset honed his instincts to a razor's edge and imbued him with a rare resilience among his peers.
Even now, he could feel the whispers and jeering of his men. Even though every face was engrossed in their work to get this convoy moving, Shaw could see the mocking gazes. However, whenever he focused in on an individual, they’d always pretend they’d done nothing but work.
“LIAR!” Shaw barked at one young knight who had walked passed him with the reins of a war horse in one hand and those of a worg in another. “Ye think me a fool not to see Yer mutterings! Ye mock me just like that Wyvern whore!” He nearly screeched, approaching the young man with an aggressive and accusing finger pointed.
The young knight flinched away violently from the sudden verbal attack as spittle flew in his face. The horse, startled by the sudden commotion, neighed and dangerously spun around, its hooves threatening to kick. In a frantic effort to get the beast under control, the young knight scrambled, trying to calm the agitated animal while also defending himself against the barrage of accusations.
"I didn't say a word, Capt'n!" he protested with a voice laced with panic. "I'm just fetching the mount like I was told." Complete confusion clouded the young knight's face as he looked around, trying to gauge if others had witnessed the outburst and could offer some explanation for Shaw's sudden fury.
But there was no solace to be found in the faces of his comrades. The men and women of Shaw's command were well accustomed to his paranoia and accusations. They had learned to keep their heads down and continue their work, even when the knight captain laid into them.
A lesson this poor soul had yet to learn.
The incident with the young knight was a spark in a tinderbox. Shaw's anxieties, fueled by the humiliating encounter with Eira and the lingering sting of failure, now burned out of control. Every shadow seemed to contain a conspiracy, every glance held hidden contempt. His frantic walk towards Lord Harmswid's tent was marked by further incidents. Warriors, mages, and laborers alike scattered before him, startled by the wild look in his eyes and the incoherent accusations he flung about frivolously.
Lost in a mental storm, Shaw was oblivious to the fact he was delaying the departure of the convoy with each one of his episodes, and he couldn’t help but curse the incompetents Harmswid stuck him with. With the count now on his mind, the Knight Captain couldn’t help but tighten his grip in frustration. Harmswid was the one who had elevated him to a position of power.
The count had given him a chance when others had scorned his low birth as a son of a slave. He owed the nobleman everything. But in Shaw's twisted perception, Harmswid was not a savior but an architect of his misfortune.
"Harmswid!" The knight captain snarled, his gaze darting around the tent as if seeking out hidden enemies. "Ye deserved everything ye got!! Ye knew about those monsters, and ye sent me to my death!" he continued to have an internal meltdown as he came to a stop in front of the count's personal tent.
"She knew..." Shaw muttered, his voice a strangled whisper. "She knew this would happen… she knew they'd be there… that damned beast… That damned whore probably lead them here…!” Shaw clenched his jaw tightly as he started pacing back and forth in front of the count’s tent. “That… That BACKSTABBER knew it from the beginning and took advantage of the fact I have nothing but these PATHETIC and INCOMPETENT lemmings..." His hand clenched into a fist, fingernails biting into his thumb so hard that blood started to flow.
Hyperventilating, Shaw’s vision fixated on the flaps of the tent. He knew all manners of luxurious treasures he couldn’t even fathom were behind those two simple pieces of cloth… All the decadent joys he was denied access to just because of his low birth. The knight captain stepped forward and reached out to push them apart… All he had to do was step inside and take what was rightfully his… but a voice called out before his hand could reach the entrance.
“M-my lord?”
Shaw snapped around, and half drew his sword, ready to strike down anyone foolish enough to sneak up on him. However, his hand stayed as his eyes settled on a terrified, portly woman who seemed to be cowering, hoping that her head would remain attached to her shoulders. “ I-I apoplogize M-My Lord!! T-The convoy is r-ready to depart…!” She stuttered, flinching back and looking back at the knights standing a ways away for help. But instead of rushing to her aid, the men simply motioned encouragingly for her to continue. “T-They said we’re –”
“Be silent, woman!” Shaw shouted, causing the woman to recoil as if struck. Her eyes widened in terror, and for a long moment, Shaw simply glared at her before turning his furious gaze toward the knights standing in the distance. The silence hung heavy in the air, broken only by the muted sounds of the camp preparing for departure.
Sheathing his sword with an angry clang, the knight captain let out a frustrated breath. "Pathetic whelps..." he spat with a voice full of venom "Too afraid to fight their own battles...and they call me a coward."
He then turned his back on the woman, dismissing her as a mere annoyance. "Tell them to start, I have my own tasks!" He barked before pausing at the entrance to the tent. "I'll catch up with the rear if... they've managed to put some distance between themselves and me!" He said with a parting sneer just before he swept into Harmswid's tent.
Once inside the luxurious space, Shaw gaze took in a hellish scene. He had expected pure savagery with blood and gore all over the place, but he had to admit what he found scared him more. Everything was as pristine and perfect as when he was last in here except for the headless corpse of the count sitting at his magnifcent desk along with his dismembered bodyguards behind him. Whoever that damned Dark Elf had brought to attack the count didn’t even give them time to blink and cut them down with such clinical precision as speed, Shaw considered they didn’t even fully realize they were being attacked.
The interior of Lord Harmswid's tent was an assault on the senses. Accustomed to the austerity of campaign life, even Shaw found the lavishness bordering on obscene. Rich tapestries hung on the walls, depicting scenes of mythical hunts and fantastical beasts. A bed of cushions and exotic furs was piled in the center on top of plush carpets that would likely fetch a small fortune in any kingdom. A gilded brazier burned with sweet-smelling incense, masking the lingering scent of blood left by the recent attack.
But the centerpiece of this excessive display was Harmswid's desk. A monstrous thing crafted from dark ebony and inlaid with intricate silver designs, it was there that the count conducted his affairs. And it was there he met his end.
A labored breath left the knight captain's mouth as he meandered over to the pile of cushions and furs that he realized the count used as a bed and flopped lazily on it. The plush softness swallowed Shaw whole, a stark contrast to the straw-filled pallets and worn linens that were his usual sleeping accommodations. He closed his eyes, letting out another sigh that sounded content. His troubles seemed to recede in this decadent haven for just a moment.
"How long..." he mused aloud, his voice barely a whisper. How long had he endured the gnawing hunger, the harsh elements, the constant sting of disrespect? How long had his toil, sweat, and blood lined Harmswid's coffers and fueled the count's ambitions?
The answers were a leaden weight upon his soul. For over a decade, possibly multiple decades, he had been nothing but a tool, a beast of burden for a man consumed by greed and indifferent to the plight of anyone but his coffers. He had endured it all with stoic obedience, believing that loyalty and hard work would be their own reward.
But now, lying in a headless count's bed, surrounded by stolen riches, Shaw's perspective was shifting. A lifetime of servitude felt like a cruel joke, a mockery of the dreams he'd once held as a boy. The dreams of honor, of a life worth living... dreams Harmswid and his kind carelessly trampled underfoot.
The warmth of the furs seeped into Shaw's weary bones, a delicious lethargy settling over him. As he sank deeper into the cushions, he closed his eyes and made a silent vow: never again would he sweat and strain for another silver-spooned fop. He had played the loyal dog for long enough, and hid reward was always blood and nightmares.
But now… Now he had a dead man's riches.
Now he was done with servitude. He would complete this one final task, this errand for the 'Duchess', and then...then he would disappear. Vanish into the anonymity of the wider world and start anew.
His thoughts turned to the multitude of possibilities. Perhaps he could turn his hand to banditry. With his experience and a few like-minded men, he could strike at supply caravans, prey on those very merchants and nobles who had grown fat on the labor of the common folk. A dark smile played on his lips. There was a certain poetic justice to the idea.
Or maybe, with the gold he was about to liberate, he could assemble a mercenary company. He knew war, and there was always war to be fought somewhere for the right price. He was never one for righteousness or justice. He was more of a… convenience and practicality kind of man… and with enough coin, he might even earn a reputation and perhaps become someone to be reckoned with.
He glanced around the tent, spotting goblets and locked cabinets. There was more to be had here, a fortune that could well and truly set him on his path. But first… he’d like to take a quick rest. Just five minutes of blissful oblivion before he tackled the practical matters of his escape.
With a sigh that was half exhaustion and half contentment, Shaw closed his eyes. His chaotic mind began to drift, and the cares of the day seemed to dissolve in the soft warmth… However, Sleep came for Shaw like a thief in the night. The soft embrace of the furs had been a trap. He had meant only to rest his eyes for a mere moment and gather his thoughts, but instead, he was plunged into a deep, dreamless slumber.
Shaw threw himself forward as he woke up with a start. He found himself disoriented as he peered around, trying to make sense of his surroundings, and flailed forward as if the plush piles of fur stung. How long had he slept? Had the camp already left?
Panic flared within the knight captain as he rose to his feet. “Curse it all!” A scream left the man’s mouth as he burst from the tent like a bat out of hell. With a thumping heart, Shaw’s head snapped from side to side, scanning the scene before him. And what he saw made his blood run cold.
The encampment was gone. The tents, the wagons, the milling soldiers and servants – all vanished. Only the churned-up earth and trampled grass remained as evidence of the recent whirlwind of activity.
A wave of despair threatened to overwhelm Shaw. Had he slept for Half an hour? An hour? Half a day? How could he have been so foolish, so carelessly indulgent? For a moment, he stood rooted to the spot, his mind a whirlwind of paranoid thoughts and fear, until a somewhat familiar voice spoke up.
“Capt’n?”
The voice cut through Shaw's despair like a knife. He whirled around, his hand going instinctively to the empty space where his sword should have been. For a heart-stopping moment, he feared it was some ambush, some cruel trick of fate.
But when his eyes focused, he saw the young knight, the one he'd berated so harshly earlier. The lad sat nervously atop a war worg, the creature was a strange blend of a wolf with a hyena-like head. Easily reaching the size of a beast of a horse, it wore a muscular build, and its fur was a mottled gray and brown while its long, thick tail trailed behind it, occasionally smacking the ground with a powerful swat.
Despite its fearsome appearance, the young knight seemed to handle the creature with ease. He sat confidently in the saddle, his hand rubbing the side of the warg's thick neck. The beast itself seemed more curious than anything else, its gaze fixed on Shaw with an intelligent glint in its red eyes.
Most importantly, the reins to another warg were nestled within the lad's other hand. Taking a cautious step forward, the young man extended his free hand, the reins of the spare warg dangling harmlessly. "S-sir..." he started, his voice strained with trepidation. "The Lieutenant thought you m-might need... a steed..." He swallowed hard, “And… well, the camp had traveled quite a ways by now…”
His words seemed to hang awkwardly in the air. Shaw glowered at him, his gaze shifting to the monstrosity at his side, then back again. The young knight braced himself instinctively, expecting another outburst.
However, Shaw remained silent, albeit for an uncomfortably long moment. The air filled with the unspoken tension of their last encounter as the knight captain glared at the young man. Inside, Shaw was warring with himself. "What's yer name, boy?" He spoke with a less accusatory and more resigned tone as he approached and took the reigns of the free worg.
The young knight blinked, startled out of his fearful hunch. While still gruff, Shaw's change in demeanor caught him off guard. He'd half-expected another paranoid tirade accusing him of insubordination or mockery. Instead, he was being addressed, if not with respect, at least with something resembling acknowledgment.
"Hugh, sir." He straightened slightly in the saddle, his voice gaining a touch more confidence. "Hugh of Arling,"
Shaw grunted, a hint of a skeptical smile playing about his lips. "Of Arling, eh? Sounds fancy." He paused as if considering something, then nodded. "Well, Hugh of Arling, you’ve done right by me. But you’re still a bushy-eyed and insufferable shit."
Hugh’s eye twitched at the insult. He opened his mouth to protest, to ask for some justification behind such a harsh label, but a wiser instinct held his tongue. Arguing with the knight captain, while slightly less volatile at the moment, was a surefire way to end up back on the receiving end of his temper.
Before Hugh could respond, Shaw had turned his attention back to the warg beside him. He ran a hand over its coarse fur, studying the creature with a critical eye.
"Never liked these damned beasts," he muttered, his frown deepening. "Sooner to bite yer head off than carry ye reliably."
With a sigh, Shaw moved around his mount and saw two saddlebags and a visibly empty wooden framed burlap sack attached snuggly to the creature's rear. A flash of realization crossed Shaw's face as a cunning glint entered his eyes. "Stay here, boy!" the knight captain barked as newfound energy filled his voice. "Keep the worg steady!"
Before Hugh could fully process the order, Shaw was already darting back into the tent with the empty saddlebags and framed burlap sack in hand. Hugh stared, open-mouthed, as a cacophony of sounds erupted from within. Items clattered against the ground, muffled curses echoed out, and a bout of manic laughter sent shivers down Hugh's spine.
For his life, Hugh couldn’t understand what the captain was doing in the name of all that was holy. This was the Count's tent… was he doing what he thought he was doing? Questions swirled in Hugh's mind, and his worry grew with each passing moment. If he was… then if Wyvern Commander Eira ever found out… Gods, he would be complicit just for standing here, and there would be no saving them from a fiery end if they weren’t fed outright to that beast.
Minutes stretched into eternity. Hugh shifted nervously in his saddle. The worg beneath him whined, sensing his anxiety, and the young knight ran a soothing hand over its coarse fur, trying to calm both the beast and himself.
Just when his nerves were about to fray completely, Shaw burst forth from the tent, his arms laden with the saddlebags and the burlap sack, now bulging at the seams with a mysterious load.
A manic smile crossed the knight captain's face. "Hugh!" Shaw shouted, his voice hoarse with excitement. "Help me remount this, will you? We need to make haste!"
Completely bewildered, Hugh couldn’t help but blink, "Sir, I... I don't understand... what..." He stammered.
"No time for questions, boy!" Shaw snapped, his impatience clear. He shoved the saddlebags into Hugh's hands. "Just do as you're told!”
Hugh held his tongue, swallowing back the torrent of questions swirling in his mind. The captain's erratic behavior, the manic glint in his eyes... there was no point in arguing. All he could do was follow orders, hold his tongue and hope word doesn’t make it to Commander Eira.
It didn’t take long for the two to secure the saddlebags nad make their out of the camp. Their beasts snorted and dug their claws into the ground, tearing down the eastern road at a breakneck pace. Each jarring step causes metallic clinks to echo through the air and shimmers of light to leak out of the bulging bags. Riding close behind the captain, Hugh caught a glimpse of the source – golden goblets and other wares spilling out from a tear, their brilliance amplified by a faint, otherworldly glow.
There was no mistaking it; Shaw had robbed the long-expired count’s tent, an act of greed and treason that could bring the wrath of the realm down upon them. Especially when he saw the bulging framed burlap sack secured just behind Shaw. It shifted precariously, threatening to spill its contents at any moment. Within its depths, something protruded – a dark, ovoid shape, smooth and almost obsidian in its blackness. Hugh squinted, hoping and praying to every god in every pantheon that it was not what he thought it was, or else Eira would forsake the Empire to hunt them down.
The two rode hard as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky with streaks of gold and crimson. The worgs powerful strides ate up the miles until they soon saw the faint outlines of carriages, horses, and other war beasts, and relief washed over Shaw like a cool balm.
"Hail!" Shaw boomed, raising an arm in greeting as two grizzled riders approached from the rear of the convoy. Mounted on war horses, they cut a less terrifying figure than his worg, but their armor gleamed with hard-won practicality.
The guards stiffened upon seeing him, eyes widening in surprise. "Captain Shaw?" one of them exclaimed. "We thought you’d be at the head of the caravan!”
A mask of nonchalance settled over Shaw’s features. "I was… delayed.” He replied in a casual voice. "But all's well now."
"Well, sir, it's good to see you–" the other guard started, but Shaw cut him off with a raised hand.
"And while ye lot left me," he growled scornfully before gesturing towards Hugh, "Hugh of Arling showed spirit and loyalty by remaining with a spare mount." Shaw begrudgingly spoke approval of the young man.
His men remained silent and cringed under their knight captain's glare. After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, Shaw threw himself off his mount and moved to unbuckle the luggage to the rear of his work. "Now…" he said, lifting up the framed sack gently and bringing it to the rearmost carriage, "what's the news? Any trouble on the road?"
Shaw carefully nestled the burlap sack between furs, extra weapons, and what appeared to be the cart driver's meager personal effects. There, hidden amongst the mundane, its sinister contents would hopefully remain undiscovered. Satisfied that his most dangerous cargo was secured, he returned to his worg, where the saddlebags bulged with their promise of stolen riches.
“A few highwaymen were foolish enough to think us a merchant caravan, Captain," one of the guards answered, his voice weary. "There were a few small bands of highwaymen, nothing the vanguard couldn't handle. Too bold for their own good."
"Morale?" Shaw pressed. This was the key, the weakness he could exploit.
"The lesser mages are spent," the other guard replied. "The lack of sleep is starting to get to people. And with the fate of the count…" he trailed off, his face clouding over with uncertainty.
Shaw nodded. The count's death had undoubtedly shaken them. Loyalty was a fickle thing and only reliable when reinforced by wealth and authority. Both were now in question. “Provide them with extra rations and wine–”
Just as he ordered, a deafening explosion kicked up earth and debris further ahead of Shaw. Even from a distance, the shockwave shook Shaw’s very bone. Dust filled the air, mingling with panicked shouts and the maddened cries of beasts.
His first instinct was to glance upwards, searching the twilight for the telltale silhouettes of wyverns. But the sky above remained clear. “Eira ain’t attackin’ us… Then who!?”. Shaw’s eyes darted across the caravan, trying to pinpoint the source of the attack.
More blasts erupted, tearing through the heart of the convoy, but this time, the explosions were followed by strange sounds… An unending series of echoing cracks and snaps in a staccato rhythm, like a thousand angry hornets beating their wings in unison.

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Hi! Napadaan lang para magrant. Unahan ko na kayo hindi ako mahusay magkwento if ever na maguguluhan man kayo sa narration ko. Kwento ko lang kung ano yung totoo so, please bear with me. Hehe. So, the first encounter happened last quarter of last year. Pareho kaming may trangkaso ng anak ko, nasa work si husband kaya nagpunta FIL ko sa house namin. (never ko yan pinapunta sa bahay, malamang yung mil nagpapunta sa kanya) Yung mil ko nasa house nag sstay kasi nag wowork sya malapit samin. Context lang yung house namin maliit lang parang condo studio unit na isang hakbangan nasa sala, kusina or kwarto ka na. As in di ka maliligaw at mas lalong magkakakitaan kung nasan bawat isa. So, ayun na nga nag cr ako, sinara ko pinto nakabukas ilaw tas saktong pagkaupo ko nagulat ako kasi nabuksan ng fil ko pinto. Walang lock cr namin kasi nasira door knob pero nakalapat pinto tas bukas ilaw naman. Habang nasa loob ako naririnig ko sinabihan niya anak ko na "****, bat kasi di mo sinabi na may tao pala sa loob" sinagot naman sya ng anak ko na "hindi ka kasi kumatok, nakabukas ilaw sa loob" habang nasa loob ako hindi ko alam kung ano dapat maramdaman ko, alam ko may off sa nangyari pero mas pinili ko na lang iignore para nga naman walang gulo at baka nga naman "hindi sinasadya at hindi alam na nadun ako sa loob" isang beses lang naman nangyari kaya hinayaan ko na lang. Fast forward to 2024, nawalan kami ng tubig sa buong community for how many days, edi sabi ng mil ko punta kami sa kanila para dun na lang labahan uniform ng anak namin. Our 1st day there went well. Nung pauwi na kami bigla akong binalisawsaw nahhirapan ako umihi kaya pabalik balik sa cr. While waiting kay manong na maghahatid samin sa bahay nag cr ako ulit kasi nga binabalisawsaw ako, di ba yung balisawsaw isa or dalawang patak lang yun. Edi pasok na ko sa cr, pagkaupo, umihi isa or dalawang patak lang tas nag wash na ko agad, inaangat ko pa lang underwear ko nabuksan na naman ng fil ko pinto, maygad wala pa kong 2 mins sa loob. Napasigaw ako pagkakita ko sa kanya. Nakitaan niya ko ng dalawang beses! 😭 habang nasa loob ako para kong naduduwal nahihilo parang umiikot paligid ko tas paglabas ko diredirecho na ko sa labas sumakay ng tric. Pag uwi namin ng house grabe hagulgol talaga ko. Feeling ko naviolate ako. Para sakin na nakitaan ng dalawang beses with the same person hindi ako naniniwalang coincidence lang. Like, di ganun kalaki house para di magkakitaan. Lima lang kaming tao sa bahay, apat sila naiwanan sa sala, hindi ba sya nagtaka na wala ako sa sala at baka nasa cr ako pero wala syang ganung instinct unless intentional yung ginawa niya. Nanggigigil ako sa galit kasi una, nakita ko facial expression niya sabi ko sa aswa ko same sila ng facial expression pag cuddle time namin, pangalawa naramdaman ko na there was something wrong sa nangyari and lastly, gumana intuition at woman instinct ko kaya di ko pwedeng palampasin yun. Dun ko nalaman na sinasadya kasi nung gabi na natulog kami sa kwarto nila kumatok sya e (fil) kasi nandun kami natutulog, ako asawa ko at anak namin samantalang sa cr di mo sigurado kung may tao o wala hindi ka kakatok magbubukas ka na lang agad ng pinto. Ilang araw kong iniyakan to kahit nga minsan gusto ko na mag move forward bigla bigla ko maaalala nangyari tas mapapaiyak na naman ako.
The next day na nagpunta mil ko sa house cinall out ni husband mamay niya,, ang sagot niya "bakit kasi di marunong mag lock si ******* ng cr" ako pa vinictim blame nya. Hindi na ko sumagot kasi una pa lang alam ko ng kakampihan nya asawa nya (Dun pa lang sa comment nya abt sa comfort women na gusto din naman daw magpa r**e sa mga hapon during ww2 🤮 at dahil sa pagka praning niya, one time na kachat ko papa ko ("Papa" sinet kong nickname ni papa sa messemger) hinablot ba naman phone ko tas sya nagbasa ng chat like kala mo ba kachat ko asawa mo? Kadiri ka sayong sayo na yan 🤮🌵) 2 weeks have been pass nag stay padin sa house namin ni mano manlang "bruha pagpasensyahan mo na di naman daw sinasadya ng asawa ko" wala syang ganun. Ni wala manlang ngang tanong tanong na "kumusta ka nung nakitaan ka ng asawa ko" Nakita ko sa kanya wala syang pakialam wala akong nakitang concern sa kanya so bakit ko sya iintindihin? After that lumayas na sa house namin tas nag chat pa sa asawa ko ng pagkahaba haba kala mo sya ang naagrabyado. Binastos ko raw siya kasi hindi ko siya kinikibo at nakasimangot lang daw ako. Para sakin ha, pagtapos mo kampihan asawa mo, vinictim blame mo pa ko tas pupunta ka samin na parang wala lang nangyari? Na haharap ka pa talaga samin lalo na sakin? Na vinictim blame mo harap harapan kaya ako nakitaan ng asawa mo ng dalawang beses sa mismong harapan mo tas ang nirereason out niyo "hindi alam na nasa loob ako ng cr" gasgas na linya na yan uy! Lumilipas yung araw at linggo na parang "tapos na nangyari kaya okay na yun" ganun ang nakikita ko sa kanya kaya talaga na-off ako, dun nadin nag sink in sakin lahat bat pa ba to nagsstay dito e vinictim blame nga ako kumampi pa sa asawa. Kunwari pa na hindi nya daw kinampihan asawa niya pero todo depensa na kala mo abogago ng asawa niya. Nagkasagutan kami sa chat nung wala na syang masagot at hindi na makapag stick out sa argument kung anu ano ng foul words pinagsasabi palibhasa wala ng ma-rebutt kaya nangbastos at gumawa na lang ng kwento. Singkwenta anyos pero parang hindi nanay magsalita kala mo trashtalker lang na batang kalye kung magsalita. Tinawag pa kong engot at tanga, e sya nga tong pinag aaral noon pero naging product ng teenage pregnancy tas 9 years gap nila ng asawa niya. Nonsense na pinagsasabi at wala na sa point. Sinumpa pa ko tas ginamit pa salita ng Diyos kaya sabi ko sa knaya kung manunumpa sya ng tao huwag nya na gagamitin ang Diyos dahil baka tamaan lang sya ng kidlat. Hindi ko na pinatulan kahit ang dami kong gusto pang ibalik na masasakit sa kanya pero hindi na lang, pinagdasal ko na lang sa Diyos lahat lahat. Galit na galit asawa ko sa kanila lalo na sa kanilang mag asawa halos ayaw na makita baka raw pag nagkikita sila baka mabastos nya lang din. Ilang buwan nadin namin sila na cut off at until now nag chachat padin sa kanya na dalhin anak ko sa kanila. Yung sinasabi nilang "hindi nag lock" bukod sa nagmamadali kami may naghhintay ng driver sa labas, binabalisawsaw pa ko kaya alam kong mabilis lang ako matatapos at higit sa lahat MAGULANG sila ng asawa ko kaya pag iisipan ko pa ba ng masama? Kahit na uncomfy ako throughout the years ever since yan na mag bfgf pa lang kami kaya dumidistansya talaga ko pero ayokong isipin na may masama syang intensyon. Ayoko naman maging praning sa mga titig titig nya kaya ako na lang umiwas ng tingin at hindi lang yan isang beses nahuli. Pag naaalala ko talaga kinikilabutan ako sa matandang yun. Nakakawala sila ng respeto sobra, kahit hinfi na sila mag apologize, yung pag cut off pa lang namin sa kanila enough na yun at ayoko na sila makita habangbuhay.. Sa ngayon narealize ko lang ilang taon na kaming nakatira dito, maliit pa lang anak namin since we moved here he was 2 years old back then, our son is 8 now kahit 2 lang kami sa house safe kami naiiwanan ng husband ko not until nakakasama na namin sila dun pa ko naging unsafe. Sa ngayon hindi ko pa kaya magpatawad at kung dumating man yun hindi na kagaya ng dati magiging relationship namin sa bawat isa. Mas okay na yung ganito na kahit hindi na magkakitaan. Sabi ko naman sa husband ko pwede naman sila magpunta dun anytime kaso sila ang umaayaw. Dagdag ko lang even before meron na kaming gap at panay pagpapaawa at feeling nila sila ang naagrabyado na naman. Pangalawang beses na to actually kaya hindi ko na pwedeng palampasin. I cant take risk my mental health this time. We cut them off for our sanity and peace of mind. Ang dami ko pa gusto ikwento pero hanggang dito na lang. I just want to have some outlet to release my frustrations. Pasensya na nailipat ko pa negativity at huwag naman sana maabsorb ng makakabasa. Kung nakaabot ka hanggang dito, salamat.

I am 30f and live alone, never had a real relationship, addicted to masturbation and fantasy, obese, mentally and chronically ill, and autistic. I struggle making ends meet and have a dead-end job in customer service. I want to better myself but because of my chronic autoimmune issues I never feel well enough to balance both work and school because working full time takes so much out of me. I sleep in until it is time to roll out of bed and get read for work. I have no energy or drive to do anything for myself. All I do is jerk off and think about sex and wish I was married.
My family is mad at me. Men are repulsed by me. I can't make friends or keep them. Yes, I am in counselling and have a long way to go before I can be a person who people want to get to know. But right now I feel like the most worthless piece of excrement. I go on Facebook and see all my old friends and acquittances sharing pregnancy announcements, engagement pictures, wedding photos, baby bump photos, sonogram pictures and feel the most painful jealousy knowing that will never be me because I am not likeable.
There is something about me that turns people off, both men and women. I can sit in a group full of people talking and no one ever engages me or looks at me. When I try to speak up or throw something in the conversation people ignore me or act like they didn't hear me. I feel invisible among people and it is the most painful feeling. I don't know what it is about me but people just don't respond well to me. I think it is my anti-social personality, but what they don't know is I am anti-social for a reason because I have been hurt by people very much in the past and don't want to be hurt again.
I was sexually harassed by a professional last year and threatened to take my review down of the BBB or else they would take me to court and sue me for libel. They did not believe my story and I never felt so invalidated and violated in my life. Men are attracted to me at first and want "me", but that is about it. No one wants to love me or know me. I could go to any bar in town and find someone to sleep with tonight--but that is where it ends. I feel empty and like a husk people just use or want to play with to suit their needs. It makes me feel absolutely worthless.
I am obese and use food to escape from loneliness. It is the only comfort I have.
I can't afford the things I need. I can't drive and never got my driver's license due to illness in the family after I get my permit and never had anyone who had time to teach me. I can't afford to see the endocrinologist which I have been needing to for a long time for my pituitary tumor that I was diagnosed with in 2015. I have not been on medication for it in years and it's probably grown and my periods are extremely heavy and I am growing facial hair now (which makes me feel disgusting and unfeminine). I haven't been to the dentist in years and went this year after I got my tax refund and found out I need over $10,000 in dental work my workplace insurance can't cover. So I have teeth rotting out of my head and a tumor in my head that is wrecking havoc on my hormones.
I feel like a waste of space and life. There are children dying of cancer who deserve the air I am breathing more. There are mothers who have children who deserve the air I am breathing more. There are people who have purpose and lives to lead who deserve the air I am breathing more. I ask myself, why did God create someone like me if He knew this is all I would ever amount to be? I am sure even He is repulsed by me as well.
I feel dirty, cast out, unwanted, disgusting, un-likeable and useless. I feel like at this point I am just waiting to die. The only thing that is keeping me wanting to stay is my cat who depends on me.

It was me and a women who is no one I knew, but very close, not romantically, just different idk, I even thought she was the protag in certain moments. I've been dreaming a lot with airports recently, in this dream, I just got back from a trip, very happy, just having a lot of fun. There we found a boy which my anima and animus agreed a certain message should be given? I'm not sure, I believe a bigger figure told us certain things and in the dream it clicked for that guy. However, after that we started being chased by security. We just knew it was to take us to a mental asylum.
My anima was nervous and wanted to just go full crazy to survive, my animus was stronger and hold her to keep it cool. Idk, it was like conjoined twins that could separate whenever idk, they kinda could fuse or smth. Then, next to leave, we were on a market's door but the guy was there, on the line of the market (big one) there was the guy! Also it was mentioned something Abt past lives. My anima and animus splitted, my anima didn't have much of a priority to keep it together anymore due to the "mission" it took. My animus wanted to run and not get caught, my anima wanted to go for the guy and talk to him what needed, there was also certain passion and curiosity involved in this motivation.
Upon separation, my animus ran, took a trip somewhere, then broke its phone so wouldnt be tracked then another taxi to another place, the driver was talking about having to watch out and the need to have a gun so I wouldn't be robbed but my animus (now me and who the dream was following) was very chill because it knew it wasn't much like this, but would keep an eye, just not in the driver's intensity.
By arriving to the place I asked to be, I still wanted help from the driver, but he said he was tired, I also noticed he was blind. A guy who tried helping me after we arrived ended up helping the blind driver.
I was there, in another state, country town, completely lost. Tried going to a hike in a place familiar to me which I went in another dream, but a lady in the entrance said I wasn't wearing clothings prepared for that. It'd start to rain soon so I agreed. Tried talking to some girls but due to having a male body they got afraid of me. I feel desolated, lost, but then... I felt free. I didn't feel anything holding me at all, like, a FEELING I can't explain, never felt it in my life, it was s beautiful feeling in such a despairfull situation. Found shelter from the rain, then saw a known figure, an aunt, but she was crazy just saying complete nonsense while rain would pour on her and I was like "ok, I want to help but for now I gotta help myself first"
After this decision, I found my grandma! She was surprise and very happy to see me, and she'd take me in. It was a beautiful ending.

The global rhinoplasty market is projected to grow at a significant CAGR of 6.4% to 2027, reaching a value of USD 6.16 billion by 2027. The primary drivers of this growth include rising awareness about aesthetics and physical appearance. The influence of social media has particularly encouraged the younger population to consider cosmetic surgeries like rhinoplasty. Additionally, higher income levels and the increasing popularity of medical tourism have further boosted market expansion.
To know more about this study, request a free sample report @ https://www.researchcorridor.com/request-sample/?id=145792
Market Trends:
Increasing Popularity of Minimally Invasive Procedures: Advances in medical technology have led to the development of minimally invasive rhinoplasty techniques. These methods, such as the use of injectable fillers and laser treatments, offer significant benefits including shorter recovery periods, reduced pain, and fewer complications compared to traditional surgical methods. These advantages make minimally invasive procedures an attractive option for patients who seek aesthetic improvements without the extensive downtime associated with conventional surgery.
Rising Influence of Social Media and Celebrity Culture: Social media platforms play a crucial role in shaping public perception of beauty standards. Influencers and celebrities frequently showcase their cosmetic procedures, including rhinoplasty, leading to increased awareness and acceptance among the general public. The aspirational aspect of social media encourages individuals, particularly younger demographics, to pursue cosmetic enhancements to emulate the looks of their idols. This phenomenon has significantly contributed to the growing demand for rhinoplasty procedures.
Growing Acceptance of Cosmetic Surgery Among Men: The stereotype that cosmetic surgery is solely for women is rapidly changing. An increasing number of men are now seeking rhinoplasty to enhance their facial features, driven by societal shifts towards greater acceptance of male grooming and aesthetics. Men are becoming more conscious of their appearance and are willing to undergo cosmetic procedures to achieve their desired look. This expanding demographic is contributing to the overall growth of the rhinoplasty market.
Technological Advancements in Rhinoplasty: Technological innovations are revolutionizing rhinoplasty procedures. The use of 3D imaging and computer-assisted surgical planning allows surgeons to create detailed, personalized surgical plans. These technologies provide a clearer visualization of the expected outcomes, enabling more precise and predictable results. Additionally, the integration of robotics and advanced surgical tools is enhancing the accuracy and efficiency of rhinoplasty procedures, leading to improved patient satisfaction.
Expansion of Medical Tourism: Medical tourism is becoming a significant driver of the rhinoplasty market. Patients from countries with high healthcare costs are traveling to destinations where they can receive quality medical care at more affordable prices. Countries like South Korea, Brazil, and Turkey are popular for their expertise in cosmetic surgery and offer competitive pricing, attracting international patients. The rise of medical tourism is supported by improvements in global connectivity, better healthcare infrastructure, and the availability of skilled surgeons in these regions.
Market Opportunities:
The rhinoplasty market presents significant opportunities driven by various factors. The increasing popularity of minimally invasive procedures and technological advancements such as 3D imaging and computer-assisted surgery offer avenues for innovation and enhanced patient outcomes. The expanding acceptance of cosmetic surgery among men and the influence of social media and celebrity culture further broaden the market demographic. Additionally, the rise of medical tourism provides opportunities for growth in regions known for high-quality, cost-effective healthcare services. Enhanced awareness and accessibility, coupled with the trend towards personalized and customized procedures, create a favorable environment for market expansion. Offering comprehensive post-surgery care and support services can also differentiate providers and improve patient satisfaction, thereby driving long-term growth and success in the rhinoplasty market.
According to the recent report published by RC Market Analytics, the Global Rhinoplasty Market is expected to provide sustainable growth opportunities during the forecast period from 2024 to 2030. This latest industry research study analyzes the rhinoplasty market by various product segments, applications, regions and countries while assessing regional performances of numerous leading market participants. The report offers a holistic view of the rhinoplasty industry encompassing numerous stakeholders including raw material suppliers, providers, distributors, consumers and government agencies, among others. Furthermore, the report includes detailed quantitative and qualitative analysis of the global market considering market history, product development, regional dynamics, competitive landscape, and key success factors (KSFs) in the industry.
Browse the Full Report Discretion @ https://www.researchcorridor.com/rhinoplasty-market/
Geographically, the rhinoplasty market report comprises dedicated sections centering on the regional market revenue and trends. The rhinoplasty market has been segmented on the basis of geographic regions into North America, Europe, Asia Pacific, Latin America, and the Middle East & Africa. Rhinoplasty market estimates have also been provided for the historical years 2020 to 2023 along with forecast for the period from 2024 - 2030.The report includes a deep-dive analysis of key countries including the U.S., Canada, the U.K., Germany, France, Italy, China, Japan, India, Australia, Mexico, Brazil and South Africa, among others. Thereby, the report identifies unique growth opportunities across the world based on trends occurring in various developed and developing economies.
The Rhinoplasty Market Segmentation:
By Treatment Type:

• Augmentation
• Reduction
• Post-traumatic
• Reconstructive
• Revision
• Filler
• Others (Ethnic Rhinoplasty, Refinement Rhinoplasty)

By Technique:

• Open Rhinoplasty
• Closed Rhinoplasty

By Region:

• North America
• Europe
• Asia Pacific
• Latin America
• Middle East & Africa

Major players in the global rhinoplasty market include Allergan, Sientra, Inc., Johnson & Johnson Services, Inc., Medartis, Implantech, and TMJ Concepts. These companies are expanding their presence through market expansion, new investments, introducing innovative services, and strategic collaborations. By entering new geographical markets and pursuing acquisitions, they aim to gain a competitive edge and leverage joint synergies.
To know more about this study, request a free sample report @ https://www.researchcorridor.com/request-sample/?id=145792
Key Questions Answered by Rhinoplasty Market Report:

• Product popularity and adoption based on various country-level dynamics
• Regional presence and product development for leading market participants
• Market forecasts and trend analysis based on ongoing investments and economic growth in key countries
• Competitive landscape based on revenue, product offerings, years of presence, number of employees and market concentration, among others
• Various industry models such as SWOT analysis, Pestle Analysis, Porter’s Five Force model, Value Chain Analysis pertaining to Rhinoplasty market
• Analysis of the key factors driving and restraining the growth of the global, regional and country-level markets from 2020-2030

About Us:RC Market Analytics is a global market research firm. Our insightful analysis is focused on developed and emerging markets. We identify trends and forecast markets with a view to aid businesses identify market opportunities to optimize strategies. Our expert’s team of analysts’ provides enterprises with strategic insights. RC Market Analytics works to help enterprises grow through strategic insights and actionable solutions. Feel free to contact us for any report customization at sales@researchcorridor.com.
Media Contact:
Company Name: RC Market Analytics Pvt. Ltd. Contact Person: Vijendra Singh Email: sales@researchcorridor.com Visit us: https://www.researchcorridor.com/

Hello, I really need to know if I’m being an asshole in this overall situation. I feel like I’m doing the right thing but at the same time I feel I might be an asshole for acting this is overall a big deal.
I will travel public transport frequently to go to college like 3 times a week. Whenever I arrive at the bus stop and there’s already people there, I let them on before me since I’ve been told it’s polite doing so. Whenever I’m there before anyone at a bus stop I’ll usually get on first (unless it’s elderly, pregnant, disabled, buggy’s I’ll let them on first instead. I also only do this when there’s a few of us waiting. If there’s lots of people there, it’s usually the one closest to the bus that gets on first.)
Yesterday, there were about 3 of us including me waiting to get on the bus as the driver was on break. People will usually gather around the bus when they’re wanting to get on. 2 mins before the driver let us all on, this middle aged women decided to walk in front and stands in front of this middle aged man who was waiting in the queue to get on. She tried to walk infront of me but I just stood near the door so they couldn’t try and skip me. I know this isn’t that big of a deal but in my opinion, I think it’s best to stick up for yourself and not let people do this. Other times when we were all boarding this bus, (about 5 of us) People have did this before with the other people waiting when they were there before the line cutter. (This was when other people were there before me) One time there was someone that shouted “Oi! there’s a que!”
I really do want to say something like that to people who line cut but at the same time, I’d rather not cause a riot on the bus and ruin peoples days. But I’m also thinking that I need to stick up for themself when people do this.
Other times this has happened is when the bus is approaching and someone is just walking up to the stop and then walks in front of us and gets on the bus even when there’s people waiting for the bus as well.
Am I overall an AH for doing this? I really don’t know since I could be acting like this a big deal over something little.