I (16 f) had a girls night at my house recently. I invited my whole friend group which all up was around 15 people. I had planned snacks, movies, dinner etc. I paid for the expenses and the cost turned out to be around $200. I was fine with it and knew I was going to have to pay some fee to have a good time with my friends.
I should also mention since the girls night was big and involved alot of people, my parents said I could host it however I wouldn’t have a birthday party later that year as they tend to struggle when accomodating people, feeling like they can’t let anything bad or anyone get hurt otherwise it’s their fault. I understand and honestly fair enough.
Anyways I had all of these things planned and fast forward to the night I had spent ages decorating, tidying, setting up and making everything look nice. Everyone showed up and at the start it was really fun. We played twister and talked about school and whatever. We eventually headed into the lounge room and started talking.
One of the girls in my group (let’s call her Marissa) has always had an issue with me. We have had arguments and disagreements before with me always ending up having to be the bigger person. One time she was talking shit about me behind my back and then when I confronted her she said that it wasn’t her fault and we just weren’t similar enough. I even ended up apologising for prying. To say the least we haven’t always been on good terms yet we finally were normal and I didn’t want to not invite her because ik that would cause a stir in the group.
We were all talking and she asks me which of my friends that are guys, don’t like her. I said I wasn’t comfortable saying that, that I thought she would go and contact them afterwards and also the wool group was there and no one needed to know nor did she have a reason. She kept begging me and calling me a gate keeping bitch so I reluctantly agreed to tell her privately in another room and if she promised to not go to them or anyone else afterwards.
She agreed and I told her. I instantly regretted my actions but said nothing as we both headed back to the lounge room. Without a second of hesitation she jumped on her phone and started texting someone.
I asked her if she was texting someone who I had told her and she said no.
I checked my phone a few minutes later and 2 of my guy friends had contacted me furious that I had said what I did. I apologised profusely because I know what I did was wrong. I then revived messages from other people in my class about what I had said (not people I had said to Marissa) and it sounded like she had completely exaggerated and twisted everything around. I was so upset. I went to go back to the lounge room and act like nothing had happened when I heard her talking shit about me. In my own home.
I stayed in my bedroom for most the night with a few girls staying with me unsure of what had happened.
School started two weeks later and Marisa was acting as if nothing had happened. I had tried to let the incident go over the break but when she started acting normal(except for giving me the cold shoulder) I was furious.
I contacted her that night demanding to know why she would break the promise she made to me and then proceed to talk about me. She left me on read so I kept sending her texts saying I wanted to work things out and if she was going to ignore me on text she couldn’t at school.
I showed up at school the next day to see her mom at the front office. I was concerned but tried not to think much of it. I was called to the deputy office later that day. The deputy told me that Marissa was saying I was harassing her and bullying her. Her evidence was screen shot of my texts that yes did involve swearing as I was angry but nothing violent. She showed them to her mum who apparently was asked by Marisa to take it up with the deputy .
I told the deputy my side of the story and luckily she believed me. Otherwise I would have been suspended or worse. I later found that those were her intentions.
This completely divided our group with majority of them siding with her as she told them I was bullying her but continently never showed them the messages. The news spread fast and now I have a bunch of people talking about me and rumours are spreading about what a horrible person I am. Sorry this was so long but AITA?

I want to be hopeful and optimistic but the vast number of online disappointments make it difficult. Here are some things I don't want. Please don't contact me if you are not interested in reading the post. or do not want to talk long term and would be planning on ghosting me or disappearing within 1-2 days.
I am someone who is quite a sweet and effortful person. I would love an online connection with someone similar to me and have good, intellectual conversations and also share some laughter and affection. Affection can light us up and make us happy. (Even platonic connection is fine.) I like giving and receiving affection in the form of cute, little nicknames for each other, checking up on each other, asking about each other.
I hope my words sail to some worthwhile eyes on the winds of destiny.
I have grown wary of superficial connections, no effort replies and even abrupt ghosts.
I would like someone with whom I can exchange sweet words with. I am quite a romantic person and I was more so as earlier. A lot of responsibilities were thrust upon me with time, but I have rediscovered that side of myself. I would love to have a pretend romance with an online companion - where we pretend like we are long lost soul mates and trade fiery words of sweet passion for each other.
But, that is completely optional. I am fine with a wholesome, platonic connection as well.
If you've reached this far, it's because of some happy confluence of my words, the Reddit algorithm and fickle fortune.
Our meeting seemed to dangle so much on fate, it's only fair we pay our dues. Give it our best shot. Do justice to the matchmakers of heaven - The directors of this romance.
I'm on the quest for a sweet companion. Someone with a good heart. Kind and empathetic - Like my own. The good person at the end of the romcom when the attractive antagonists lose their allure.
I love bonding with someone through heart to heart conversation. Through exchanging genuine care and concern. Through passionate exchange of our interests and hobbies. Through clockwork logging of our daily lives. Through mindful curiosity in each other's interests. Through mutual preference for glitter over gold, depth over deception, charm over carelessness and symphonies over superficiality.
The conversation starts out with pleasantaries and outward introduction of our demographic information - the most rudimentary. The most formal. Gradually, the outer layers crack and a mild joke cuts across the mask and we're another layer deep. Common or different tastes in art are the usual social custom for making new acquaintances.
Soon, our conversation flows like a roaring river eliciting deep intellectual and emotional responses from both of us.
We're discussing prized memories and cherished fantasies of the future. Chalking out hypotheticals and admiring the other's world views. Pretty soon, we're suddenly bare and feeling a strong bond by virtue of what we've shared.
Small silences punctuated the conversation. These silences were not awkward. It was a comforting waterfall of connection. It was the silence that followed from both of us knowing and enjoying the bond created by our hearts.
I loved the feeling of ending a conversation with a stranger on the first day with the feeling you've known them for years. I harboured romantic beliefs that such a connection must be the byproduct of a relationship in a previous life !
Here are a few things about me -

• I love staying at home.
• I do not drink or smoke and don't like going to noisy pubs. Although there are times when friends or office parties are conducted there, it's something I just tolerate.
• I love reading. I am interested in programming, Mathematics, Chess, Science, Psychology, Geopolitics, Space, Literature (fantasy particularly or late but I like all kinds) and Self Help (Productivity and Positive Psychology) - and a lot more ! I'm generally intellectually curious and a lifelong learner.
• I love following updates on things I'm passionate about and sharing them regularly. I love following podcasts and blogs and videos on them and sharing and discussing them. I also love explaining a new thing I have learnt as it helps me understand it better.
• I tend to be positive and look at the brighter side of life usually. But I also like sharing the problems I am going through and like listening to your's.
• I love animals. I have a lot of pets. I am also quite close to my family and am surrounded by my loving pets (5 dogs and 4 cats). I recovered from dengue last month and they were always around me all the time. It felt very good.
• I love putting in effort into messages and writing effortful messages and generally use complete words and not much abbreviations. I love crafting a symphony of text.
• I am usually quite calm and supportive and remember things that are told to me in conversation. I like getting emotional and expressive and am soft hearted and sensitive. I am also quite mature and enjoy talking to similarly mature people.

Do not reach out to me if you're just bored, did not read the post, don't like anything about me or my profile or don't know what you want or don't want to invest in having a good connection or don't even have the intention for talking for a few weeks. I am already quite hurt at repeated ghosting so please do not even reach out to me if you intend to ghost by tomorrow or next week.
Here's what I would like from us

• Genuine interest, care and empathy for each other - Making each other a priority though we are strangers at first. That's part of the excitement in jumping head first into this ! That does not mean we do not respect each other's busy schedules or commitments. I'm looking for something really genuine.
• Regular effortful messages, and remembering things the other says
• I love sharing or explaining anything new I learn, whether it is a blog post, podcast, video, book or a general thought that came through my mind. It would be great if you love listening to good explanations and are interested in such things. I'd also love it if you too like sharing blogs or podcasts on topics that you are interested in but it's not necessary.
• I also love self improvement and sharing progress or motivation as we are doing things towards our goals and dreams.
• I love voice calls as I love the sound of voice. I would love it if you are someone who is excited at having regular voice calls (2-3 times a week) or at least exchanging voice messages at times !
• We don't need to have similar taste in art (music, TV shows, movies). I am open to learning about new kinds of interests and new subcultures !
• Openly sharing our thoughts on the bigger ideas and arcs of life and also venting about the smaller frustrations
• Being excited at receiving messages from the other person every time we light each other's phones up.
• [Optional] Some online romance where we sometimes say things to each other that make us blush like our first crush. A little romance to brighten each other up. Though this is completely optional. Sometimes sharing sweet, romantic messages with each other and maybe even doing this on voice calls too.

Also would be nice if we can just share photos so we can visualise what we look like as I like sharing photos when I go somewhere. I just like getting this out of the way. It doesn't matter to me what you look like, but I do like to know whom I'm talking to make us blush like our first crush. A little romance to brighten each other up. Though this is completely optional. Sometimes sharing sweet, romantic messages with each other and maybe even doing this on voice calls too.
Also would be nice if we can just share photos so we can visualise what we look like as I like sharing photos when I go somewhere. I just like getting this out of the way. It doesn't matter to me what you look like, but I do like to know whom I'm talking to.

I (F31) am about to finish my degree and my final thesis was due on Thursday. I have almost 2 y son and a husband whose working hours are from 8 am to 9 pm. I work full time myself. Normally, we all leave the house around 6:30 am, leave the kid in a daycare around 7 am and both head to our works (our offices are 5 min apart of walking distance). I pick up my son from day care around 5 pm and head home. We both spend some time and the around 7 pm I will put him to sleep, which takes time, so he is asleep around 7:30 pm and I leave his bed around 8pm. This is to give the understanding how the usual day looks like. Normally, both, husband and I plan everyhting in advance, but life happens, our son gets sick, I get sick. This happened two weeks before said deadline, so my plans went down the sink. So, Thursday was a very hard day, in the morning it was obvious that I need help, my husband tried to change his workload, but his boss said no, and he suggested to call his mom. I texted her saying, sorry for such a short notice, but, everything slipped out of my hands and it would be great if she could come after work to be with my son and maybe, put him to sleep, as the deadline was today. She said no, I said I understand, and did not push more. I called my boss, and asked if it would be ok, if I would do what’s urgent and finish everything on Sunday, she said ok. So, after the noon, when I finalized most important tasks from my work, I sat down to my thesis. My son spend most of the day playing near me, and watching Bluey. In the evening I put him down to sleep and again sat down to make the changes in my paper. I managed to correct and submit my thesis 30 min before the deadline. On Friday morning, my MIL texted me, she can come after her work today to be with my son, so I could do my uni stuff, I politely declined and mentioned that I had already subimitted my paper yeasterday, so I want to spend Friday evening with my son, to compensate for yesterday. She didn’t reply and I thought we were good. On Saturday, we had plans with MIL and FIL to go spend the day in the park and bbq since the weather was nice (we agreed on that two weeks in advance). My husband called her to inform we were running a bit late, she said she and FIL are not comming. He asked why and she said it’s because of me, and will not come, unless I apologise. To say I was shocked would be an understatement of the year. My husband asked what have happened, I showed him the messages. He called his father, and MIL thinks, I refused her help on purpose, so she would feel bad. Honestly, I have so much going on in my life rn, that I have neither time nor will to read into other people feelings. I do not see why I need to apologise. My husband is on my side, since we share the view, that we can always ask for help, and other people always has a right to say no. His FIL, understands us, but insists, I would be the bigger person here, and just write the damn text.

For context, I just started watching Mindhunter for the first time after keeping it hella dusty on my watchlist for like 4 years (I do that sometimes). I just finished episode 6. And I'll clarify I'm not a huge fan of murder mysteries, and I got serious ADHD, so if I say something outrageous, consider that... Or just sarcastically call me Sherlock Holmes, whatever.
I started watching episode 4, got through it, started trying to predict what heppened (I generally get it all wrong). By the end, I thought it would be the guy that comes up on all the cold opens, it was a little meh for the story but it made sense. I had considered virtually everyone, including Mark the cop. I thought it wouldn't make any sense because he got the FBI involved and a few other things about him.
By the end of episode 5 when the cold open guy was discarded, I started putting a little attention on Mark, knowing it was a very long shot. But when he says "there's something bugging me", gets a detour, and gets Rose to confess, promising to "keep the baby safe" in a slightly threatening way, and then stands in the back of the frame, out of focus and purely backlit while she confesses, I started considering it for real.
I thought that maybe some other officer was going to go get the protagonists involved when they left, but he offered to do it himself to gain their trust and control the investigation, and that's why he was hesitant to walf towards the car. By this point I didn't even know the show was based on real facts, cause it seems a rather pintoresque kind of twist. But since I thought it was fiction, it didn't bug me too much.
By episode six, I saw him act as middle man between the main characters and the DA, and how every time they left town, the DA seemed to change his mind. Putting al the guilt on Benjamin, that would reduce her charges and make the baby situation better, as he promised.
By the end, when the charges were resolute, I was absutely, 250% certain that he had some kind of involvement. I watched his every move, his facial expressions, how he was cinematically portrayed, when he arrived, when he left, how Frank looked at the protagonists in chains and when we turn back he's gone. Every minute my certainty grew, and I was CONVINCED that I was about to witness the classic moment of epiphany where it all comes together. And then the episode ended. And apparently that was it for that case.
I searched for information about the guy, the real person he was based on if any. Not only did he seem absolutely clean and irrelevant, but nobody ever seemed to question him in here or anywhere else. I thought it was a coincidence, but I still couldn't buy it. I thought maybe there was some unbreakable fact why he couldn't have done it and I just missed it. I thought maybe it was all some kind of intentional misdirection from the series and I was the only one who didn't get it. Maybe the writers were trying to say that maybe he did it, but with that final message that even when you get the perps the truth will never be totally clear.
I couldn't get it out of my head so I came here. So now please call me a dummie, say I might just be 1% onto something, or something else. If it is clarified later in the show, please say exactly that. Just help me clear my head, please.

I want to be hopeful and optimistic but the vast number of online disappointments make it difficult. Here are some things I don't want. Please don't contact me if you are not interested in reading the post. or do not want to talk long term and would be planning on ghosting me or disappearing within 1-2 days.
I am someone who is quite a sweet and effortful person. I would love an online connection with someone similar to me and have good, intellectual conversations and also share some laughter and affection. Affection can light us up and make us happy. (Even platonic connection is fine.) I like giving and receiving affection in the form of cute, little nicknames for each other, checking up on each other, asking about each other.
Of late, I have been watching a lot of couple pranks on YouTube. They teach me a lot about couple dynamics (what kind of dynamics are healthy and what are toxic). It would be nice to have someone to discuss these kinds of dynamics with. Sometimes I like those pranks where one pretends to be angry and the other kind of comforts them. It would be nice if we could enact that sometime.
I hope my words sail to some worthwhile eyes on the winds of destiny.
I have grown wary of superficial connections, no effort replies and even abrupt ghosts.
I would like someone with whom I can exchange sweet words with. I am quite a romantic person and I was more so as earlier. A lot of responsibilities were thrust upon me with time, but I have rediscovered that side of myself. I would love to have a pretend romance with an online companion - where we pretend like we are long lost soul mates and trade fiery words of sweet passion for each other.
But, that is completely optional. I am fine with a wholesome, platonic connection as well.
If you've reached this far, it's because of some happy confluence of my words, the Reddit algorithm and fickle fortune.
Our meeting seemed to dangle so much on fate, it's only fair we pay our dues. Give it our best shot. Do justice to the matchmakers of heaven - The directors of this romance.
I'm on the quest for a sweet companion. Someone with a good heart. Kind and empathetic - Like my own. The good person at the end of the romcom when the attractive antagonists lose their allure.
I love bonding with someone through heart to heart conversation. Through exchanging genuine care and concern. Through passionate exchange of our interests and hobbies. Through clockwork logging of our daily lives. Through mindful curiosity in each other's interests. Through mutual preference for glitter over gold, depth over deception, charm over carelessness and symphonies over superficiality.
The conversation starts out with pleasantaries and outward introduction of our demographic information - the most rudimentary. The most formal. Gradually, the outer layers crack and a mild joke cuts across the mask and we're another layer deep. Common or different tastes in art are the usual social custom for making new acquaintances.
Soon, our conversation flows like a roaring river eliciting deep intellectual and emotional responses from both of us.
We're discussing prized memories and cherished fantasies of the future. Chalking out hypotheticals and admiring the other's world views. Pretty soon, we're suddenly bare and feeling a strong bond by virtue of what we've shared.
Small silences punctuated the conversation. These silences were not awkward. It was a comforting waterfall of connection. It was the silence that followed from both of us knowing and enjoying the bond created by our hearts.
I loved the feeling of ending a conversation with a stranger on the first day with the feeling you've known them for years. I harboured romantic beliefs that such a connection must be the byproduct of a relationship in a previous life !
Here are a few things about me -

• I love staying at home.
• I do not drink or smoke and don't like going to noisy pubs. Although there are times when friends or office parties are conducted there, it's something I just tolerate.
• I love reading. I am interested in programming, Mathematics, Chess, Science, Psychology, Geopolitics, Space, Literature (fantasy particularly or late but I like all kinds) and Self Help (Productivity and Positive Psychology) - and a lot more ! I'm generally intellectually curious and a lifelong learner.
• I love following updates on things I'm passionate about and sharing them regularly. I love following podcasts and blogs and videos on them and sharing and discussing them. I also love explaining a new thing I have learnt as it helps me understand it better.
• I tend to be positive and look at the brighter side of life usually. But I also like sharing the problems I am going through and like listening to your's.
• I love animals. I have a lot of pets. I am also quite close to my family and am surrounded by my loving pets (5 dogs and 4 cats). I recovered from dengue last month and they were always around me all the time. It felt very good.
• I love putting in effort into messages and writing effortful messages and generally use complete words and not much abbreviations. I love crafting a symphony of text.
• I am usually quite calm and supportive and remember things that are told to me in conversation. I like getting emotional and expressive and am soft hearted and sensitive. I am also quite mature and enjoy talking to similarly mature people.

Do not reach out to me if you're just bored, did not read the post, don't like anything about me or my profile or don't know what you want or don't want to invest in having a good connection or don't even have the intention for talking for a few weeks. I am already quite hurt at repeated ghosting so please do not even reach out to me if you intend to ghost by tomorrow or next week.
Here's what I would like from us

• Genuine interest, care and empathy for each other - Making each other a priority though we are strangers at first. That's part of the excitement in jumping head first into this ! That does not mean we do not respect each other's busy schedules or commitments. I'm looking for something really genuine.
• Regular effortful messages, and remembering things the other says
• I love sharing or explaining anything new I learn, whether it is a blog post, podcast, video, book or a general thought that came through my mind. It would be great if you love listening to good explanations and are interested in such things. I'd also love it if you too like sharing blogs or podcasts on topics that you are interested in but it's not necessary.
• I also love self improvement and sharing progress or motivation as we are doing things towards our goals and dreams.
• I love voice calls as I love the sound of voice. I would love it if you are someone who is excited at having regular voice calls (2-3 times a week) or at least exchanging voice messages at times !
• We don't need to have similar taste in art (music, TV shows, movies). I am open to learning about new kinds of interests and new subcultures !
• Openly sharing our thoughts on the bigger ideas and arcs of life and also venting about the smaller frustrations
• Being excited at receiving messages from the other person every time we light each other's phones up.
• [Optional] Some online romance where we sometimes say things to each other that make us blush like our first crush. A little romance to brighten each other up. Though this is completely optional. Sometimes sharing sweet, romantic messages with each other and maybe even doing this on voice calls too.

Also would be nice if we can just share photos so we can visualise what we look like as I like sharing photos when I go somewhere. I just like getting this out of the way. It doesn't matter to me what you look like, but I do like to know whom I'm talking to make us blush like our first crush. A little romance to brighten each other up. Though this is completely optional. Sometimes sharing sweet, romantic messages with each other and maybe even doing this on voice calls too.
Also would be nice if we can just share photos so we can visualise what we look like as I like sharing photos when I go somewhere. I just like getting this out of the way. It doesn't matter to me what you look like, but I do like to know whom I'm talking to.

I'll try to make this as short as possible even though it's a lot.
So I'm currently in a high conflict custody battle of 3 kids that has been going on nearly a year. End of November they issued temporary orders, I got totally screwed because the ex made a false DV accusation right before the hearing through attorneys to get me out of the house which then made her Status Quo so she got 80% custody till final orders. My children are age 3, 4 and now 15(14 at the time of orders). I get them every weekend on a 2 week rotation from either Fri-Sun or Sat-Sun.
So one day after the orders were issued my ex sent me a text that my oldest son wouldn't be coming, said she spoke with her attorney and I can't force him to go. I was represented at this time by a totally worthless attorney who wouldn't contest the temp orders and refused to notify the court that she was refusing visitation of my son.
In January I became Pro Se, I sent her attorney an email asking to resolve the order violation, this guy essentially told me I haven't done enough to be allowed to see my son, essentially blaming me for absolute nonsense. In March I filed a motion to enforce, attorney responded saying I never spoke to him at all and he wasn't aware of any violations. The motion has basically sat there and the judge won't rule on it. I had a motion to appoint a family investigator which was granted, he concluded his investigation at the end of March I believe. Essentially it said, Mom was inappropriately giving him a choice to visit me and also not encouraging him to come. Unsure why he didn't call it Parental Alienation since that's why he was appointed but whatever. Said that none of my children are of mental maturity to decide on custody and said the recommendation is 50/50. In that report it also stated that therapy for me or for reintegration isn't necessary based on his home visit observation with me and all 3 kids. Obviously it said a lot more but won't get into that stuff.
At the latest hearing in May the judge warned her to obey the orders or face serious consequences at final orders. Judge also said she meant to rule on the enforcement but forgot yet still hasn't ruled on it. I asked my ex yet again to see my son and she said because it's mother's day weekend he probably won't want to come but she'll let me know. Of course no response and I didn't get him. I again messaged her attorney, he said I need to attend not only therapy for myself but reintegration therapy before I'm allowed to see him.
Last week I filed a motion for contempt since I'm kinda out of options since she is willfully withholding visitation and knowingly violating the order. There is absolutely no way to mediate anything and her attorney is a nightmare to speak with. I reached out to the county DA office on Friday possibly seeking charges for Parental Interference since maybe criminal court will take this a bit more seriously. I have seen my son maybe 2 hours since November including the hour long investigation for the home visit which she so graciously allowed me to have him for an hour.
So I'm at a loss with all this, I don't want to get all sexist about the family courts but I seriously doubt I'd be allowed to do what she's doing without being handcuffed within the month. This has gone on now nearly 6 months and there's no stopping it. What else can I do to hold her accountable for her actions? Courts don't care and the police generally don't get involved in civil custody disputes.

I slept fine, I didn’t fall asleep so nicely. I don’t know why, I felt perfectly adequate all evening and then bam I cry myself to sleep. I don’t know how or why, and I didn’t even cry over anything in particular it was just any and everything. And I just kept crying and crying, like a baby. I had to switch pillows twice because I drenched it, but I got to sleep on my favourite pillow by the time I was almost asleep thankfully. I can be so picky with pillows, another thing mum tends to call me, even to this day - the princess and the pea. Or rather she likens me to her… I can’t entirely say I disagree tbh. I just like things a particular way, not all things, I can be relaxed about plenty, but there are some things I just to be just so. My pillows when I sleep for example, how the dishwasher top rack is stacked etc. Entirely inconsequential things really. But anyway. I didn’t fall asleep so nicely. I woke up feeling better, still a bit sad but nothing I couldn’t ignore.
It’s now 12:58pm and I’ve done next to nothing. I’ve been watching BT, I’m not writing the name of the show because I feel like that might be search heavy at the moment? So I’ve been watching that, I’m midway through the third episode now and there are four out so far. I’ve also painted some of my lil clay things with primer. And that’s about it. I really need to clean and tidy my room but the idea of it… ugh. I don’t want to :(
I’m loving BT so much. I like the stories and characters and stuff, but I mostly love the sets and costumes. They’re just so luxuriously opulent and uggghhhhhhh I want to just stare it all. Sometimes I wish they would clear out the cast and just give us a tour of the rooms and show all the details of the gowns. But like I learned in therapy, beauty is something I value highly, not in a vain way but in the way I utterly adore beautiful things whether it be a stunningly ornate wallpaper, a sparkly bead encrusted gown or even a leaf that is the perfect shade of green. I just love it all and it brings me so much joy, more than I realised now that I’m conscious of this value of mine. But the BT house itself, particularly the drawing room ommmmgggg. The blue? I think it’s called wedgewood blue from memory, with the creamy/white detailing. And all the light streaming through. It’s so dreamy. And it makes me love my blue and white bedroom more. And the gowns!!!!!!! I wish I could roll around in them, they’re so sparkly and detailed and beyond beautiful. Particularly the ones crusted in beading and with the luxurious silks and satins and velvets and taffetas and organza and all of it. And the colours! It’s all so dreamy. I don’t overly love the style of a lot of the gowns, that sort of empire line, mainly because it only looks good on women with fewer curves and a flatter chest, they can look gorrrrrrrgeous in them. But otherwise if you have any kind of cleavage it looks so weird and bleh. I love Penelope so much, she’s always been a favourite character and she honestly deserves the very best. And Colin definitely got a glow up prior to this season. His brown coat is so delicious. I’m beginning to wonder if I should read the series…? I do love a lil historical romance. Anyway I don’t even Penelope and Colin to end up together, I mean Lord Debling is so lovely and Colin is off sleeping with hookers… like? Then again I know I am wrong in how I think and feel about all of this. I know I have expectations ghat are unfair, I mean maybe not for everyone but if I’m nothing special and therefore not enough then can I criticise. This doesn’t make sense. Anyway. Actually nevermind I just watched the fourth episode and I am very much Team Colin. EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEH!!!!!!!! But now I have to wait for part two in mid June :(
I’m going to the office tomorrow. I don’t want to. But oh well. I’m going to make a concerted effort to get back in twice a week - I’ve been slack with it and it doesn’t help me become better. Leaving the house more is important, so this shall be one of the ways. I’m also going to get some new sneakers and a walking jacket so I can go for walks more regularly. I’d like to go several times a week, but I’ll work up to that. I love my walks, I love them a lot but I just get filled with every negative emotion when I go for them around my house, to the point I’ll start having tears running down my cheeks or shaky trembly hands - it’s pathetic. I think environment is everything, and purpose. When I walk pups at my parents I don’t feel these things, I’ll be a little anxy but nothing I can’t manage. But here? It’s so hard. It’s so stupid I know. But I love walking, I feel better when I do it regularly, so I shall keep forcing myself to do it until I feel okay about it. I know this is what I have to do, but the way it makes me feel inside… it never feels worth it. To be 20 minutes walk from home and feel on the verge of a panic attack is NOT a good feeling and it only makes my panic worsen. So baby steps. I’ve been considering on and off moving to a different area, I think I would feel more comfortable in other areas, I don’t know why I don’t here but I don’t. But moving elsewhere is no different to running from problems so I will sort it out here.
I broke his little bowl. I didn’t mean to :( I feel kind of upset about it, it’s been two weeks in the making with time to shape, dry, prime and I was doing a final layer of primer pre paint and my stupid finger went through the base. So I guess it would never have been a good present anyway because it broke so easily. But I bought a really pretty coloured paint because I thought he might like it and I just feel upset. I showed him it, idk why, I just messaged him a picture of it now and I already wish I hadn’t. I shouldn’t have even made anything for him in the first place, he’s made it abundantly clear he doesn’t care for homemade things - cards, presents, whatever. If he did like them he would comment on them, and he never does, so maybe it’s a good thing this broke. I just like sharing things with him, like when I draw and I like a tree I’ve drawn I want to show him, except I don’t because I’m utterly rubbish at drawing and it makes me look like a five year old. I at least appreciate his honesty, or transparency rather. It means I can understand what he does and doesn’t like. I just think his likes don’t mesh with my like of making homemade cards and presents. It’s not like I only give him that though. Anyway it doesn’t matter, plus it’s probably better for me to not share things like this given I don’t have any skill or natural talent with it. Just because you enjoy something doesn’t make you good at it.
I don’t feel so great this afternoon, mood wise.
I’ve done the absolute bare minimum with my room, and the bar was set very, very low today. I tidied the floor up a bit, I made my bed, did a lazy tidy of my vanity desk thing.. that’s about it. I’ll do more across the week.
I feel.. detached today. This afternoon, rather. I know I love my family, Andy, puppy… etc. I just can’t feel it. I know it’s all in there, but I feel detached and I can’t reach it. This isn’t unusual, I just always try to describe the feeling and always fail. I think knowing I care but not being able to feel myself care sums it up as well as I’ll ever be able to.
I found a little notebook of my early days of therapy, well with this current one, maybe not that early actually but idk. It was just me writing down who I am. The first is “I am a human” because I had to start with the basics. The last line is “I try my best to be friendly” - I think I will continue with this. No one really comments much on me so I will just write it as things feel write. From memory it was also a way to force myself to speak more kindly to myself, ie I am a woman vs I am a monster. And things like I’m generous, I love animals, I am quiet, I try to be patient, I love romance, I appreciate attention to detail, I like to care for others, I am a homebody, I love reading etc. And then scattered amongst it was some honesty, like I can be a control freak, I am quite particular about some things, I am indecisive, I am sensitive etc. And then next to I am a friend I have a question mark. But I want to continue writing these things, I think it’s helpful when I feel lost in myself to be able to read through a list of things I’ve written and be reminded. That sounds so silly to not know who you are sometimes, but sometimes I just feel so unbelievably lost and unmoored from everything, even myself. So I’ll write all the good things, and the bad. I’ll write things that I like, things that I don’t. I’ll write things I want in my life, things I feel like I should want but don’t, things I shouldn’t want but do etc etc etc. It’ll be a little tiny notebook of everything me. I wonder if sometimes it’s possible for me to get any lamer? Unlikely.
I’ve been thinking about stopping journaling here more and more. I get more out of posting it here, it feels like a release, like I’m letting all the thoughts go which is especially helpful with my negative ones, I don’t know.
It’s 5:23pm. I need to wash and blowdry my hair, as it’s still damp in the morning lately. I need to have something for dinner, I guess. I’ve been struggling with eating lately, I feel so ugly and it makes me not want to eat and then that sets off a bad string of things. I’ll have something little, vegemite toast maybe. I need to pack my bag for tomorrow. And that’s it.
I feel better after a shower and chat with Andy, I still feel not good but he perked me up on the outside. He makes me laugh so much :) It’s kind of weird to think I’ll be living long term in Australia, like I’ve always intended on living there - until my mental health and covid messed things up a little for me timeline wise. But to think I’ll maybe say Australian things…? That I’ll say thongs? And I definitely will because I cave quickly, like I was only in the UK two years and I said crisps and trainers and I still do to this day, which I’m actively trying to stop. I wonder what my accent would sound like after like ten years… I really doubt I’d ever lose my accent. It’s funny how I do probably sound a bit different when talking to him versus my mum. I just talk more softly with him, I naturally do anyway to the point I have people comment semi regularly on how soft spoken I am, but idk, I don’t even mean to speak to him a certain way, I just do? And then he hears me talking to mum and I probably sound like I’m wearing Jandals and stubbies while loading up the ute as I prepare for a tramp in the bush. Christ. I do love being from here though, in theory I would rather we live here than Australia, and never say never… but it makes more sense to be there. I don’t really have anyone here other than my parents whereas he has family and friends and his payments and all of it. I don’t really have any ties here. Anyway.
I get to spend time with him tonight :) Night night

Besides the questions in the title I tired to elaborate a little and also each question(s) has two, a. and b. sections. Section a. is meant for sort of a broad understanding. Section b. is my personal, specific case example (active claim, CA ~10 months).
I'm sure who you'll see will depend on state law, your injury, among other things. Regardless of who you see, more importantly: How do we (the injured worker) know if who we've been assigned to is doing their job correctly or just having an off day, since we know it's not required to have good bedside manner, what are they required by definition AND law? That said:

1a. Despite case by case variations; who are personnel that everyone will see no matter what? What should you expect from them, and is there more they can do...but only if you know how to ask? I'm imagining a knowledgeable answer would be a long list of all the possible outcomes within the maximum allowed in WC, but probably more helpful is to address the most common. A small list may only include a companies HR, Claims adjustor, and an Occupational Health doctor for example. Then continuing the list after those essential people is there typically a usual process where if once your case goes for a certain amount of time or ______ happens, you could expect to meet these ______ job title? I'm hoping to help other people at least have an idea of what to expect out of said people.

1b. TLDR: Here's one of the biggest examples of not knowing who to talk to and whether that information is correct. I have not been given crucial test results from 3 months ago. Original test (Neuropathy) doc said to get my results from my doctor, who sends me to therapist, who sends me back to doctor, my adjustor says doctor, doctor sends me to "Specialist", turns out not specialist, who sends me back to my doctor...ummmm....WTF do I do at my next doctors visits in a few days??

1b (cont.) It has come to my attention that I'm completely unaware of exactly what a large majority of the people I've been assigned to see do. In fact, in what capacity do I "have to see them"? Can I request a swap, or how do I make a complaint? I have been MORE than patient, and I've given the benefit of the doubt for so long that I can no longer accept being passed along. I'm already back where I started, for the 3rd time. Uh...so, besides just wanting information for myself, I'd think the test results should help me heal. I've been denied more treatments (Appeal's denied too) where I'd think that those test results could play a crucial role. Where once I thought there has there been a miscommunication, now feels like I'm in an echo chamber, or worse. This is quite alarming as it also shines light into the fact that I am also unaware of how "my doctor" can best help me, if at all. "My doctor", the one I'm required to see at Occupational Health, (I'm told I not allowed to see my family doctor) doesn't seem to do anything other than fill out the "Return to work form". Is that correct? How would I know?? They seem to just write whatever I tell them. Similarly the same goes for what treatments I've gotten. Best I can tell, there is no indication they have reviewed any of the information from other doctors and therapists. It's now going on 3 months where I haven't been given test results.

Unfortunately it's not just my doctor who I'm not getting information from. "Generic Adjustor" Enters the chat. or maybe not, because to top off the confusion, I can't get ahold of my adjustor who so far been the one steering me into the .... direction. Unfortunately I believe I'm waking up too late. I've called multiple times a day for a week straight while leaving messages and follow up emails noting that I've called. They do respond to email, which usually consists of one line stating something like "call anytime, I'll be in the office all week".. Funny thing is I'm not sure what exactly they are even supposed to do or bare minimum required to do. Even when I get ahold of them, I'm questioning if I can even trust them. I'm not saying "it's conspiracy". However due to the most recent info I've gotten, I do think the run around could be very deliberate play. How do I know if they're simply bad at their job or leaving me in the dark. It sure feels like it's purposeful. This all came to a head when after reviewing our last few emails, I see a pattern where they only respond to some of the questions, and even have given verifiably incorrect, contradictory information. How do I check these facts? Should I talk to a supervisor? Is there a system to check and balance these things? Who do I talk to? It all came to a head when I opened mail to find: Request of QME with the reason being "Objection to Primary Treating Physician's determination regarding temporary disability, permanent disability, or the need for future medical care." Aggravating but I'm sure they followed the (rules I was unaware of) book. It's questions like this that have me really, really upset: What is even meant by "Objection to Primary Treating Physician's determination"? 1. Quick sidebar - is that decision made by the "my doctor" that I described earlier - or the "Provider"? > Meaning, those two terms have been used interchangeably, and I fear that, and why I used quotes for "my doctor" earlier, I'm wondering if this other name (who happens to be another doctor at the Occupational Health office) a person I have never met let alone seen is the one calling the shots. Either way I'm pretty worried. 2. Here is another example which shows only a part of the circle of "who do I talk to". Here is a quote from my adjustor 10 days after the letter had been officiated, but before I got it states "you have not seen a specialist, attended a QME, or have a clear treatment plan defined by your primary treating physician.". Am I wrong to have read that to believe I'd still be seeing a specialist? Doesn't it read that the information the specialist decides would be what determines the next step? Isn't it safe to say that by month 10 I'd have a treatment plan --of course unless your not privy to your own test results?
Ending note: There is so many more examples I could give which to me paint a picture of neglect. From what I can tell, I either already signed my rights away or it's just not worth the fight. I don't even want to fight, or believed there would be a reason for a disagreement due to my injury but since that bubble of disillusionment has popped, how can I reproach getting the best medical treatment. I was lead to believe that after seeing a specialist I would have the option to get a second opinion before the QME. I haven't even seen the first specialist (I was sent to an office with a specialist in it, but the person I saw was just a family practitioner).and since both my doctor and my adjutor are not helping ---Who the fuck do I talk to?

Ministers apologise and return £7,000 in benefits to woman, 93, with dementia
Government ministers have formally apologised and repaid £7,000 to a 93-year-old woman whom they held responsible for running up benefits overpayment debts even though they were told she had dementia and was unable to manage her affairs.
The case, which the minister for disability, Mims Davies, admitted was “disturbing”, was brought to light by the Guardian as part of its investigation into carer's allowance overpayments.
The agreement to write off the debt of the 93-year-old, whom the Guardian has chosen not to name, comes as ministers have promised to try new ways of sharing information with carers to try to prevent them building up months and years of overpayments.
Read the full article on theguardian.com
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DWP confirmed that it is developing an ‘enhanced notification strategy’ to alert carer’s allowance claimants to possible overpayments
Notifications designed to encourage claimants to report changes in income and so reduce the risk of being overpaid.
As part of its policy paper, Fighting Fraud in the Welfare System: Going Further, that was published earlier this week, the Department says (at paragraph 78) -

'In carer’s allowance we are progressing an enhanced notification strategy as part of our existing commitment to improve customer engagement, building on our existing communications with customers. As part of this notification strategy we are considering all forms of targeted contact to find the most effective and efficient solution, such as exploring the use of targeted text messages or emails to alert claimants and encourage them to contact the Department when the DWP is made aware of a potential overpayment.'

The Department added -

'The new strategy will help claimants understand when they may have received an earnings-related overpayment or are at risk of doing so, and will encourage claimants to contact the DWP to meet their obligation to inform the Department of changes in their income and other relevant circumstances. This will reduce the risk of those customers being overpaid.'

Note: having expressed concern that the DWP had 'done nothing' to stop carers building up huge overpayments of benefit despite knowing what people are earning, Work and Pensions Committee Chair Stephen Timms called on the National Audit Office to investigate problems with the carer's allowance system and, in particular, its failure to prevent or rectify overpayments.
Stephen Timms has also written to Secretary for State for Work and Pensions Mel Stride highlighting concerns about the DWP's lack of progress with overpayments since the previous committee's report in 2019. Mr Timms' letter repeats the committee's recommendation that the DWP increase the rate of carer's allowance and goes on to call for the DWP to review both the amount and the cliff-edge nature of the earnings limit and for the removal of the 21-hour study rule.
For more information, see Policy paper: Fighting Fraud in the Welfare System: Going Further from gov.uk
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Carers UK has welcomed the DWP's plans, noting this is the 'minimum' they've been calling for to tackle carers' overpayments. However, Director of Policy and Public Affairs Emily Holzhausen also highlights that implementing the strategy is 'urgent', asks that the whole issue be moved out of being branded benefits fraud, and that carer's allowance be reviewed as it should be 'modernised to reflect the realities of caring'.
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DWP-commissioned research highlights how the carer’s allowance earnings threshold influences decisions about how many hours carers work
Report also makes clear that the Department was made aware three years ago that there was room to improve claimant understanding and possibly reduce mistakes leading to overpayments by improving its communications.
The research, Experiences of claiming and receiving carer’s allowance, explores how and why people claim carer's allowance; their caring roles; experiences of combining paid work and care; and how well claimants understand the rules associated with the benefit. While carried out in 2020/2021, the research has been published today against a backdrop of calls for the wholescale reform of carer's allowance as a result of evidence that claimants who have earned above the carer's allowance earnings limit have been left with large overpayments and, in some cases, prosecuted for fraud.
While the research found that many claimants in employment felt there was a practical limit to the hours they could work, with many saying it was only feasible to be working part-time due to their caring responsibilities, it also found that -

• the earnings threshold appeared to influence decisions about how many hours some people worked. Even though claimants often denied that the threshold influenced their choices, they acknowledged being mindful to stay below the threshold. One claimant felt he had to refuse shifts at work that would take him over the threshold;
• in another example, the earnings limit led a claimant to reduce her hours as her wages increased, and eventually she was working so few hours that her employer felt it was not worth employing her due to her limited availability; and
• some claimants in paid work felt they might work more hours if not for the earnings threshold, and even suggested tapering the carer’s allowance earnings rule to encourage claimants to work more.

Published on the same day that the Work and Pensions Select Committee said that there has been insufficient progress in addressing the problems with carer's allowance that it highlighted five years ago, the research makes clear that the Department has been aware of the issues for some time. For example, it highlights confusion relating to the complexity of the earnings calculation, including how deductions such as childcare expenses and pension contributions are taken account of, and whether wages can be averaged if you earn more in a particular week.
In addition, with the Chair of the Select Committee Stephen Timms having said recently that the DWP has done nothing to stop carers building up huge overpayments despite knowing what people are earning, and the Committee having called on the National Audit Office to investigate the problems with the system, the research found that -

• poor communication on the part of the DWP meant that not all of those that had been overpaid benefit were clear on the reason for the overpayment;
• some said that while they were initially notified or questioned about an overpayment there was then no follow-up from the Department; and
• when the overpayment was initially raised, several claimants felt that they were spoken to or treated by DWP as though they had intentionally committed fraud when the overpayment had been a misunderstanding.

As a result, the research says -

'... there is room to improve claimant understanding and possibly reduce mistakes leading to overpayments by improving communications around eligibility criteria. Since claimants did not engage with the detail of their benefit regularly, possibly only considering it once a year when they received their annual letter, more frequent communications may improve clarity of knowledge around carer’s allowance.'

Other key findings include that -

• most claimants cared for close relatives, with two in five caring for a child (39 per cent), a quarter caring for a spouse or partner (25 per cent), and one in five (22 per cent) caring for a parent;
• caring was a long-term and high-intensity commitment, with half of claimants (52 per cent) spending 65 or more hours caring per week and more than half (54 per cent) caring for between 5 and 20 years;
• only 16 per cent of carer's allowance claimants were currently in paid work, tending to work part- time in lower paid jobs that they were able to fit around their caring responsibilities, with most (81 per cent) working 20 hours or less a week;
• of those not currently in paid work, seven in ten (69 per cent) said this was due to their responsibilities as a carer, with other barriers including a lack of flexible working options, claimants’ own health and confidence issues; and
• there was a lag between starting caring and claiming carer's allowance, with seven in ten claimants (70 per cent) caring for 5+ years, but only 3 in 10 (34 per cent) having claimed carer's allowance for that length of time.

For more information, see Experiences of claiming and receiving carer’s allowance from gov.uk
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Almost 135,000 people currently have an outstanding carer's allowance debt, with more than £250 million owed in total, according to figures supplied by DWP Minister Paul Maynard
DWP Minister also confirms that women represent 68 per cent of those with an outstanding debt.
Responding to a written question in Parliament from Work and Pensions Committee Chair Stephen Timms, Mr Maynard said -

'As of 14 May 2024, the volume of people who have an outstanding carers allowance debt is 134,800 with a total value of £251 million. This figure represents the total stock and as such the total monetary amount may have been accrued over multiple years. Those who have an outstanding carers allowance debt may no longer be in receipt of the benefit.'

Mr Maynard added that -

'Women make up the majority of carer’s allowance claims, and this is reflected in the proportion of those with an outstanding carer’s allowance debt. As of 14 May 2024, there were 42,800 (32 per cent) males, 91,900 (68 per cent) females and 100 (less than 1 per cent) not identified, with an outstanding carer's allowance debt.'

The Minister also confirmed that, as of November 2023, there were more than 991,000 people in receipt of carer's allowance, consisting of around 271,000 (27 per cent) males and 720,000 (73 per cent) females.
Mr Maynard's written answer is available from parliament.uk
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Total value of benefit overpayments in 2023/2024 increased to almost £10 billion, representing 3.7 per cent of benefit expenditure for the year
New DWP figures also show that official error underpayments remained at around £1 billion, and that people could have claimed more than £3 billion more 'if they had provided accurate information about their circumstances'.
In Fraud and error in the benefit system: financial year 2023 to 2024 estimates, the DWP calculates how much money it overpaid or underpaid as a percentage of total benefit expenditure for the year (£266.2bn) - for benefits including universal credit, housing benefit, personal independence payment, employment and support allowance and pension credit - and how many claims were paid an incorrect amount.
Note: the statistics no longer include estimates of claimant error underpayments as these are now published separately, as confirmed in recent DWP guidance.
In relation to incorrect payment rates across all benefits for the financial year ending (FYE) 2024, the figures show that the total rate of benefit expenditure overpaid was 3.7 per cent (£9.7bn), compared with 3.6 per cent (£8.3bn) in 2022/2023. In addition, the total rate of benefit expenditure underpaid was 0.4 per cent (£1.1bn), compared with 0.5 per cent (£1.2bn) in FYE 2023.
Looking in more detail at the figures for individual benefits, the statistics include data showing that -

• for universal credit, expenditure increased to £51.9bn in 2024 with an overpayment rate of 12.4 per cent (£6.5bn) and underpayment rate of 0.3 per cent (£180m), compared to expenditure of £43.4 bn, overpayments at 12.7 per cent (£5.5bn) and underpayments at 0.6 per cent (£240m) in FYE 2023;
• for personal independence payment (PIP), the overpayment rate was at the lowest recorded level of 0.4 per cent (£90m), compared with 1.1 per cent (£200m) in FYE 2023. However, the underpayment rate went up to 0.4 per cent (£80m), from 0.3 per cent (£60m) the previous year;
• for pension credit, the overpayment rate was 9.7 per cent (£520m) in FYE 2024, compared with 6.8 per cent (£330m) in the previous year, with underpayments remaining unchanged at 0.3 per cent (£50m) for both years; and
• for housing benefit, almost £1bn (£980m) was overpaid in FYE 2024 (6.3 per cent of expenditure), compared with £860m (5.7 per cent) in 2023. Underpayments remained stable at 0.4 per cent of spending (£50m in FYE 2024 and £60m in FYE 2023).

In addition to the fraud and error statistics, the DWP has also issued Unfulfilled eligibility in the benefit system: Financial Year Ending (FYE) 2024, in line with its decision to remove claimant underpayments from its main fraud and error estimates. The new statistics set out the percentage of benefit expenditure that could have been paid to people with unfulfilled eligibility 'if they had provided the correct information', and show key findings that include -

• the unfulfilled eligibility rate for 2024 is 1.2 per cent of expenditure (£3.1bn), compared with 1.0 per cent (£2.3bn) in the previous year; and
• universal credit, PIP and disability living allowance (DLA) account for around three-quarters of the total value of unfulfilled eligibility (at £730m, £870m and £750m respectively in FYE 2024).

The DWP highlighted that -

'PIP has the second highest unfulfilled eligibility rate [4 per cent] of all benefits and fairly high expenditure [£21.6bn], so due to this combination, PIP accounts for around one-quarter of total unfulfilled eligibility in FYE 2024. DLA has the highest unfulfilled eligibility rate [11.1 per cent] but relatively low expenditure [£6.8m], so even though its rate is higher than PIP, it accounts for a similar amount of total unfulfilled eligibility in FYE 2024. Universal credit has a lower unfulfilled eligibility rate than DLA and PIP [1.4 per cent] but its high expenditure means that it also accounts for a similar amount of total unfulfilled eligibility in FYE 2024.'

For more information, see Fraud and error in the benefit system: financial year 2023 to 2024 estimates and Unfulfilled eligibility in the benefit system: financial year 2023 to 2024 estimates from gov.uk
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Work and Pensions Secretary Mel Stride has set out the DWP's plans to scale up its 'fight against fraudsters'
New measures include using machine learning to detect and prevent fraudulent claims, as well as introducing a new Bill to enable benefit fraud to be treated like tax fraud.
Issuing a written statement in the House of Commons on 13th May, Mr Stride said -

'In the continued fight against fraud, today the Government will publish a new paper setting out the progress we have made in tackling fraud and error in the welfare system - Fighting Fraud in the Welfare System: Going Further. The paper sets out the progress we have made in delivering the commitments in the Government's 2022 command paper Fighting Fraud in the Welfare System and it demonstrates where we are going further to protect taxpayers’ money from fraudsters.'

Highlighting that the Data Protection and Digital Information Bill, currently before Parliament, will enable the Department to work with third parties such as banks to identify claims that signal potential fraud and error, Mr Stride says that the new measures being introduced include -

• bringing forward a new Fraud Bill in the next parliament to treat benefit fraud like tax fraud, by providing for the ability to make arrests and conduct searches and seizures by warrant;
• exploring a new civil penalty to punish fraudsters, potentially broadening the scope of cases that can receive a penalty when the courts are not prosecuting, and increasing the value of the civil penalty;
• tripling the size of the Targeted Case Review programme to reach almost 6,000 staff with the aim of saving £6.6 billion by 2027/2028; and
• making changes to universal credit including new partly automated checks on self-employed income, new online prompts for claimants to re-declare their circumstances (such as if they have moved in with a partner), and increasing checks on capital when people claim the benefit to ensure they are eligible.

Note: the Department confirms that final decisions on accepting or stopping a claim will, however, continue to be made by a member of DWP staff.
For more information, see DWP updates Fraud Plan from gov.uk
In response to the above article the Disability News Service reported that the government's fraud policy paper ignores coroner’s concerns over review of disabled woman’s universal credit claim. Read the DNS article on disabilitynewsservice.com
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Less than half of legacy benefit claimants who were sent a migration notice between July 2022 and March 2024 have made a claim for universal credit, according to new figures from the DWP
However, new DWP statistics also show that 60 per cent of households that claimed universal credit have been awarded transitional protection.
In Completing the move to Universal Credit: statistics related to the move of households claiming Tax Credits and DWP benefits to Universal Credit: data to end of March 2024, the DWP sets out figures for the period since July 2022, noting that -

'In the period covered by this bulletin, the vast majority of migration notices have been sent to tax credit households whose likelihood of claiming universal credit and receiving transitional protection may be different from DWP legacy benefit claimants, the majority of whom had not yet been sent a migration notice in the period covered in this bulletin.'

The statistics include that -

• a total of 824,050 individuals (in 540,070 households) were sent migration notices up to March 2024 - up by around 300,000 and 200,000 respectively compared to the totals for December 2023;
• a total of 400,940 individuals (49 per cent of those sent migration notices), living in 275,980 households, have made a claim for universal credit;
• of households that have claimed universal credit, 166,860 (60 per cent) have been awarded transitional protection;
• a total of 238,990 individuals who were sent migration notices are still going through the managed migration process; and
• a total of 184,120 individuals who were sent migration notices have had their legacy benefit claims closed.

Move to Universal Credit statistics, July 2022 to March 2024 is available from gov.uk
Note: the DWP has also published Universal Credit statistics, 29 April 2013 to 11 April 2024­ which show that there were 6.7 million people on universal credit in April 2024 (300,000 more than the 6.4 million in January 2024) and that half of households on universal credit that received a payment in February 2024 included children.
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Department for Communities also confirms that claimants in receipt of other legacy benefits will be issued with migration notices 'in the coming months'
The Department for Communities (DfC) has confirmed that the 'Move to UC' rollout in Northern Ireland has expanded this week to include people receiving tax credits along with housing benefit.
Announcing the expansion of the process, Deputy Secretary of Work and Health at the DfC Paddy Rooney said -

'We continue to take a measured and carefully managed approach to migrating legacy benefit recipients to universal credit. We have already successfully completed issuing migration notices to tax credit only recipients and we will continue to take every step possible to ensure that everyone receives the help and support they need during this next phase of Move to UC.'

The Department also confirmed that once it has issued migration notices to all those receiving tax credits with housing benefit, the following groups will be contacted in this order -

• people claiming income support;
• people claiming housing benefit only, and those claiming child tax credit with income-related employment and support allowance (ESA); and
• people claiming income-based jobseeker's allowance.

In relation to the bringing forward of managed migration for ESA and ESA/housing benefit claimants in Great Britain, announced by the Prime Minister on 19 April 2024, the DfC says that it is working to assess the impact of this on the region. It also confirms that it will align with the DWP's aim to complete the migration of legacy benefit claimants to universal credit by March 2025.
For more information, see Tax credit with housing benefit recipients next to 'Move to UC' and Rollout of Universal Credit for Tax Credit and Legacy Benefit customers - screening from ni.gov.uk
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57,000 adverse universal credit sanction decisions were made in January 2024, according to new DWP statistics
DWP statistics also highlight that around 95 per cent of decisions are as a result of failure to attend or participate in a mandatory interview.
In Benefit sanctions statistics to February 2024, the DWP reports on both the rate and duration of sanctions for universal credit claimants who are in conditionality regimes where they be applied.
Key findings include that -

• in February 2024, 30.1 per cent of claimants were in conditionality regimes that were subject to sanctions and, of these, 6.52 per cent were sanctioned - down 0.64 percentage points from the previous quarter;
• over the last year, 94.9 per cent of adverse sanction decisions were for failure to attend or participate in a mandatory interview; and
• in February 2024, there were 20,000 completed sanctions in the 4 weeks to 13 weeks sanction duration band, 4,800 in the over 13 weeks to 26 weeks duration band, and 4,000 of over 26 weeks duration.

In addition, while the total number of claimants in conditionality regimes where sanctions can be applied has remained largely stable since May 2022 (currently at 1.95 million), the total number of adverse sanction decisions stood at 57,000 in January 2024, the highest since March 2022.
The DWP notes that -

'Comparisons with universal credit prior to February 2024 ... should not be made. This is because the data sources, methodology and rules of the benefits differ from those used for universal credit currently.'

However, it adds that, following the reinstated duration measures and rate methodology improvements, the data is now determined stable and fit for purpose and, as of May 2024, it is published under the 'Official Statistics' label as opposed to 'in development'.
For more information, see Benefit sanctions statistics to February 2024 from gov.uk
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DWP has admitted missing multiple opportunities to record the 'vulnerability' of a disabled woman whose death was later linked by a coroner to failings at the heart of its UC system
The Disability News Service reported on the case of Nazerine (known as Naz) Anderson, from Melton Mowbray, who died of an overdose in June last year, after receiving a UC review notice.
According to a prevention of future deaths (PFD) report sent to the department by coroner Fiona Butler, the DWP missed six opportunities to record Anderson’s “vulnerability” on its IT system while it was reviewing her universal credit claim, and had failed to act on the mental distress she showed in phone calls about her claim. It also repeatedly failed to act on requests to direct its telephone calls and letters to her daughter.
The DWP admits multiple universal credit failures before disabled woman’s death article is available on disabilitynewsservice.com
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Number of emergency food parcels distributed across the UK by the Trussell Trust has increased by 90 per cent over the past five years
Food charity reports that it distributed more than three million parcels last year, with more than a million of them going to children.
In Emergency food parcel distribution in the UK: April 2023 - March 2024, the Trust says that it distributed 3,121,404 food parcels, the most parcels that it has ever distributed in a financial year, representing a four per cent increase on last year's record-breaking numbers for 2022/2023 and a 94 per cent increase since 2018/2019.
The charity also highlights that the number of parcels provided to children has continued to rise, exceeding 1.1 million in 2023/2024, and that food bank support is provided disproportionately to children, compared to the proportion of children in the UK population. In addition, it notes that pension age households are increasingly likely to need to use a food bank, with food bank support for these households having more than quadrupled between 2018/2019 and 2023/2024 (an increase of 345 per cent), compared to an 81 per cent rise amongst households without someone of pension age.
Also sharing statistics on the reason for referral for an emergency food parcel - which include health, benefit issues, work hour changes, insecure housing, changes in personal circumstances, immigration status and domestic abuse, as well as income and debt levels - the Trussell Trust says -

'Across all households the most common reason for referral was due to issues with income and debt levels. The vital role of the social security system in driving these trends is clear from the fact that the majority (78 per cent) of people referred to food banks were reported to solely have income from the social security system, with a further 8 per cent having earned income as well as income from social security.'

Trussell Trust Chief Executive Emma Revie said -

'It’s 2024 and we’re facing historically high levels of food bank need. As a society, we cannot allow this to continue. We must not let food banks become the new norm ... A supportive social security system is the bedrock on which we end hunger for good. Building on this, we need much more effective employment and financial support for parents, carers and disabled people, and action to ensure everyone can have the security we all need to access opportunities and have hope for the future, through more secure and flexible jobs and investment in social housing. Food banks are not the answer. They will be there to support people as long as they are needed, but our political leaders must take bold action to build a future where everyone has enough money to afford the life’s essentials. The time to act is now.'

For more information, see End of Year Stats from trusselltrust.org
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Employment Minister Jo Churchill has provided a House of Lords Select Committee with an undertaking that the administrative earnings threshold (AET) in universal credit will not be increased again without a 'sound evidence base'
However, Minister's evidence to Lords Committee fails to address its dissatisfaction with DWP's explanation for not publishing robust evidence to support previous increases in the threshold.
Further to the Lords Secondary Legislation Scrutiny Committee's report on new regulations that implemented a further increase in the AET from 13 May 2024 - that criticised the ‘inexplicable’ lack of data evaluating previous increases in the threshold in September 2022 and January 2023 - the Committee held a one-off evidence session yesterday to question the Minister and DWP officials.
Introducing the session, Committee Chair Lord Hunt acknowledged that the DWP had agreed to share its informal findings supporting its AET policy. However Lord Hunt added that -

'... similar, no doubt to the material that the Social Security Advisory Committee saw but correctly declined, if information is not available to the House and the public, then we feel unable to consider it either.'

The Committee then questioned the Minister about the Department's failure to publish evidence providing an assessment of the impact of increasing the AET either before or after implementing the change.
In response, Ms Churchill highlighted that the Department did publish a randomised controlled trial evaluation in 2018 providing the highest level of evidence on the impacts of increased in-work conditionality that Ministers have had sight of. When challenged that this evidence is somewhat outdated and 'a bit threadbare' - as it has been relied on for three increases in the AET - Ms Churchill indicated that Ministers also had early sight of unpublished research (a Regression Discontinuity Design (RDD) study) that compares the experiences of claimants who are just below and just above the AET.
When pressed on the expected publication dates for this and further evidence, Mr Churchill said -

'I have asked for [the RDD study] to be available as soon as it can be, and the date I was given was spring 2024 ... I would like it out the door as soon as possible, so you have more data ... RDD is the next piece, the next building block and then, the longitudinal study will come through in 2025.'

Concluding the session with a final question, Lord Hunt, speaking on behalf of the whole Committee, said -

'... we're looking for an undertaking from you, not to further expand the cohort until the Department can publish robust evidence of its effects. Are you able to give us that undertaking?

Ms Churchill responded -

'So are you alluding to us holding 15 hours or with this latest laying at 18? Because I could certainly say to you, I think with all confidence that at 18, we want to understand the iterations and make sure that we've got a sound evidence base from there.'

NB - the increase in the AET in January 2023 was based, for individuals, on the equivalent of them working 15 hours per week at the National Living Wage, and this week's increase to the equivalent of them working 18 hours per week.
Despite welcoming the Minister's reply, Lord Hunt went on to say -

'... we accept your undertaking, except we are still as dissatisfied as we were because you haven't provided, in the view of the Committee, sufficient explanation yet. We are awaiting this robust evidence, which I think that we now expect in June 2024.'

The evidence session Regulations to increase the Administrative Earnings Threshold (Legislative scrutiny) is available from parliament.tv
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Work and Pensions Select Committee has called on the government to bring forward proposals to compensate women born in the 1950s who suffered as a result of the DWP's communication failures when their pension age was increased, and asks that it does so in the current parliamentary session
Committee chair highlights lengthy delay and urgency for affected women and calls on government to act on Parliamentary Ombudsman recommendations before summer recess.
Writing to Secretary of State for Work and Pensions Mel Stride, Committee Chair Stephen Timms requests government support for 'urgent action' following the Parliamentary Ombudsman's final report in March 2024 which recommended a remedy based on level 4 of its severity of injustice scale, putting awards at between £1,000 and £2,950.
Mr Timms says that the Committee does not seek to question the Ombudsman's proposal for compensation at level 4, but instead has focused on what a remedy may look like -

'The evidence we received indicated support for a rules-based system. This would be a system where payments would be adjusted within a range (based on the PHSO’s severity of injustice scale) to reflect the extent of change in the individual’s State Pension age and the notice of the change which the individual received. This would mean that the less notice you had of the change and the bigger the change in your SPA, the higher the payment you would receive. While not perfect, the advantages of such a system are that it would be: quick to administer; applying known data to a formula to determine the amount due; and relatively inexpensive (compared to a more bespoke system).'

The Committee's recommendation also includes some flexibility for individuals to make the case for further compensation in the event that they have experienced direct financial loss, for example where a woman whose divorce settlement was less than it would have been because it was based on the expectation that she would receive her state pension at 60.
Mr Timms also asks the government to consider -

'... the need for urgent action, given that the Ombudsman started to look at this issue in 2018 and that every 13 minutes a woman born in the 1950s dies ... Implementing a remedy will need parliamentary time, financial resources, and the data and technical systems only available to your department. It cannot happen without government support. We would ask you to bring forward proposals for a remedy by the summer recess.'

Mr Timms' letter to the Secretary of State for Work and Pensions is available from parliament.uk
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"You gotta know that there's an art to it, Ezra," Hitch said, cutting another piece of duct tape.
The sleeves of his weather-beaten coat were shoved all the way up his arms, to stop the fabric from falling over his knuckles while he was working, and goosebumps lined his skin. He was strapping a rubber chicken to the back of his truck, over the lens of the shattered backup camera, with the legs pointing down so that they hung a couple inches above the ground. There were dents in the hood from the crash last week, and scratches along the door from scraping into a curb. The chicken, hopefully, would keep him from breaking anything else.
"You can't go cheap," Hitch said. "The cheap rubber chickens only make noise when pressure lets go. That's no good. As soon as I back up into something, I want this chicken to be screaming like it’s in the depths of hell."
“Sure thing,” I said in a monotone, leaning against the side of the truck.
There were scrambled electronic parts piled in the back of the truck, the innards of a radio, a broken computer, tangled wires, a couple loose pairs of earbuds. He found the parts in alleyways or bummed them off his friends for a couple bucks or stole them from the vacation homes that were left empty for most of the year. Then he sold them for a profit at the scrapyard. Hitch had bounced between minimum-wage jobs for a while after high school, spending a couple months as a bagger at the grocery store or as a seasonal worker at the farm two hours down the highway. He'd never stuck with it. At the very least, the scrapyard got him enough money to eat and occasionally spend a night in a motel when he got tired of sleeping in his car.
Hitch pressed the last piece of tape in place and grinned up at me. "I've got something for you, duck."
The nickname came from when I’d broken my leg as a child and waddled around in a cast until it was healed. I hated it with a burning passion, and I glared at Hitch with the ease of twenty-one years of practice. He had a duck tattoo at the base of his thumb that he’d gotten in a back-alley shop as a teenager. He said that he’d gotten it to remind him of me, and the fact that I hated the nickname was just a bonus. It was shaky-lined, with an uneven face, but he loved it anyway.
The handle stuck when Hitch tried to open the door, a consequence of the rust collecting in the crevices of the car and running down the sides like blood from a cut. The car groaned when the door finally popped open, a metal against metal screech that had me flinching away. Hitch dug through the cluttered fast food containers in the passenger-side footwell, eventually coming up with a crinkly paper bag. He waved away the flies buzzing around the opening of the bag and held it out to me.
The last time Hitch had brought me food, I’d gotten food poisoning because he’d left it out in the midday sun for two days. The donut was squished slightly, and the icing was stuck to the bag. I still ate it, grimacing at the harsh citrus flavor. Taking Hitch’s food was an instinct engraved from the days when Dad had given us a can of kidney beans for dinner and Hitch had drank the juice, leaving the beans for me.
I rarely went hungry anymore, three mostly square meals a day and granola in my pockets just in case, but habits didn’t die easy.
These days, Hitch only brought me food when he wanted my help, like when he saw a place he wanted to hit but was worried about doing it alone.
I got in the car, like I always did.
We drove past the cluster of seafood-themed restaurants with chipped paint decks, the beachfront park where there were always shifty-eyed men sitting under the slide, the single room library where all the books had been water damaged in the flood last year. The change was quick as we drove across Main Street, heading closer to the beach. The roads were freshly paved, the concrete a smooth black except where the sun had already started to pick away at it. The three-story homes lining the sides of the street were crouched on elegant stilts, with space underneath for a car or three. Most of the garages were empty, with the lights off and curtains drawn in the house. Come summer, the streets would be swarming with tourists and vacationers, but until then, most of the buildings nearest to the beach were unoccupied.
Hitch stopped as the sun started to go down at a house that was leaning precariously out towards the beach, tilted ever so slightly, the edge of its foundation buried in the shifting sand of the beach. It certainly looked deserted, with an overgrown yard and blue paint peeling off the door in sheets.
Hitch took his hammer out of the backseat, hoisting it over his shoulder. It was two feet of solid metal with rags wrapped around the head to muffle the sound of the hits. Hitch squared up, bending his knees and holding the hammer like a baseball bat. Before he could swing, though, the door creaked open on its own, the hinges squeaking. The house beyond was dark enough that I could only make out general shapes, glimpsing the curve of a sofa to the left, what was maybe the shimmer of a chandelier on the other side.
Hitch lowered his hammer, looking vaguely disappointed that he didn’t get to use it. “That’s…weird as hell.”
“Maybe the deadbolt broke, maybe they forgot to lock it, it doesn’t matter,” I hissed, checking our surroundings for other people again. “Just hurry up and get inside before someone calls the cops.”
Hitch flicked the lightswitch on the wall, and the lights flickered on. They were dim, buzzing audibly and blinking off occasionally. The walls were plastered with contrasting swatches of wallpaper and splattered with random colors. There was neon orange behind the dining table, a galaxy swirl in the kitchen, and on the ceiling there was a repeating floral pattern covered in nametag stickers. Each of the stickers was filled out with The Erlking. Chandeliers hung in every room, three or four for each, and rubber ducks sat on every table. A miniature carousel sat in the corner along with a towering model rocket.
Sand was heaped on every surface, at least a couple inches everywhere. It was piled in the corners and stuck to the walls, and it covered the floor in a thick blanket. Our hesitant steps into the house left footprints clearly outlined in the sand.
Hitch took a cursory look around and headed immediately for the TV mounted on the wall. “Look out the windows and tell me if anyone is coming.”
I shook the sand out of the blinds and pulled them open, then had to brush sand off of the window before I could see anything.
Hitch was quick, practiced at finding and appropriating the things that were worth taking. He came back to me with an armful of electronics and chandeliers, dumping it at my feet before turning to head deeper into the house again.
There was a thump, somewhere upstairs, and then footsteps, slow and deliberate. Hitch froze at the threshold of the room, then ran for the door with me just ahead of him, sand flying out from under our feet.
My hand was almost brushing the doorknob, close enough that I could see the light from the streetlamp outside streaming in through the cracks in the door. My fingers touched the wood and it gave under my touch, becoming malleable and warm. I yelped, stumbling backwards, and the door started to melt. The paint ran down in thick drops, pooling at the bottom of the door, and the wood warped like metal being welded. The soft edges of the door ran into the walls until there was no sign of an exit ever being there.
“Well, well, well,” said a cultured voice with just an edge of snooty elitism. “What do we have here?”
The man was well over eight feet tall, with long black hair covering his eyes. He was wearing a yellow raincoat with holes cut out of the hood to accommodate the deer antlers jutting upwards from his head. There was sand settled on his shoulders and hovering around his head like a halo.
“Who the fuck are you?” Hitch said, inching towards a window.
He smiled, just a little bit, and his teeth shone in the dim light. “I am the Erlking.”
Hitch nodded, and seemed about to respond. I grabbed him by the hand and pulled him towards the window. I could feel sand in the wind roaring against my back as the Erlking growled in anger, the grains scraping harshly against my cheeks.
We were almost to the window when Hitch was ripped away from me, and I came to a startled halt. The sand had formed long grasping arms that pressed Hitch against the floral wallpaper. His wrists were held tight, and as I watched, a sandy hand wrapped around his mouth and forced its way between his teeth. He gagged, and sand trickled out of the corners of his mouth.
The Erlking strolled towards him, not seeming to be in any sort of rush. “You know, I’m not very fond of your yapping.”
He made an idle gesture and the sand wrapped around my ankles, tethering me in place.
“I yap all the time,” Hitch said. “Three-time olympic yapper, that’s me. Best to just let me go now and save yourself some trouble.”
The Erlking tapped a manicured nail against Hitch’s mouth, hard enough to hurt, judging by the way he flinched away. “But why would I ever let you go when I’ve gone to this much trouble to catch you and your sister? It’s so hard, these days, to find people that no one will miss.”
Hitch struggled against the sand, trying to escape and failing. “What do you want with us, then? You just said it, we’re nobody.”
“I’m fae, dear one,” the Erlking said. “I get my power from my followers. And I think that you two will make lovely additions to my flock.”

He flicked Hitch's nose and Hitch gasped. Feathers started to form on his arms, popping out from under his skin in a spray of blood.
Hitch pushed off the wall, using his bound hands as a fulcrum, and his knees crashed into the Erlking’s stomach. The Erlking fell backwards, wheezing, and the sand around my ankles loosened.
Hitch made desperate eye contact with me as feathers shot up his neck and jerked his head towards the window. The message was obvious. Run.
The last thing I saw before crashing out the window and into freedom was Hitch’s body twisting, his arms wrenching into wings and feathers covering every inch of his skin. By the time I landed on the concrete outside, he was a small black bird, held tightly in the Erlking’s hands. The whole building was sinking into the ground, burnished-gold sand piling up over top and streaming from the windows.
Thirty years later, I saw Sam’s Supernatural Consultation and Neutralization written in neat, looping handwriting on a piece of paper taped to the door. The tape was peeling at the corners and the paper was yellowed with age, but there was obviously care put into the sign, in its perfectly centered text and looping floral designs drawn over the edges in gold marker.
I knocked, hesitantly, drawing my woolen coat closer around my shoulders. I’d bought it as a fiftieth birthday gift for myself, and I took comfort in the heavy weight of it over my shoulders.
“Coming!” someone called from within the depths of the office.
There were a couple crashes, and the sound of paper shuffling. Eventually, the door was opened by a young woman with ketchup stains on her shirt and pencils stuck through her hair.
“Hi, I’m Sam, I specialize in supernatural consultation and hunting, how may I help you today?” Sam said, customer-service pep in her voice. She stood in the doorway, solidly blocking entry into the office.
“My name is Ezra, I’m for a consultation. I emailed you but you didn’t respond?” I shifted in place, suddenly feeling awkward.
“Oh! Yeah, I lost the password for the email ages ago. Sorry for the bad welcome, I get lots of people thinking I’m crazy or pulling a prank and harassing me.”
She ushered me into the office, clearing papers off one of the chairs to make room for me to sit down. There was a collection of swords along one wall, all of them polished to perfection, several with deep knicks in the metal which indicated that they’d been used heavily.
“So what can I help you with?” Sam asked again, more sincere this time.
“Thirty years ago, my brother was turned into a bird,” I started. I’d told this story so many times that it barely felt ridiculous to say anymore. I was used to the disbelieving looks, the careful pity. But Sam just nodded along, face open and welcoming.
“I’ve almost given up on finding him, at this point,” I said. “But I saw your ad in the newspaper, and…here I am, I suppose.”
“Here you are,” Sam echoed, smiling. She pulled one of the pencils out of her hair and took a bit of paperwork off of one of her stacks, turning it over so that the blank side sat neatly in front of her. “Tell me everything.”
I told Sam everything, and she wrote it all down, pencil scratching along the paper.
The last part of the story was always the hardest to tell. “I left him there. I ran and I didn’t look back.”
I had been to dozens of detectives and investigators over the years, once the police had dropped Hitch’s case. I’d been to professional offices with smartly-dressed secretaries and met scraggly men in coffee shops. All of them had given me the same look, pity and annoyance all mixed up into a humor-the-crazy-lady soup. Sam, though, just seemed thoughtful.
Sam leaned forward and put a hand over mine, carefully, like she thought that I would pull away. “Sometimes you have to leave people behind.”
I tightened her hold on Sam’s hand and drew it towards me, like I could make Sam listen if only I squeezed tight enough. “But that’s why I’m here. I don’t want to leave him behind.”
“Okay then. I’ll do my best to help you.” Sam agreed, finally. Then she paused, and said softly, “You know…I think I met your brother once. He might have saved my life. He’s certainly why I started in this business.”
“Really? What happened?” I asked.
This is the story that Sam told me, related to the best of my abilities:
It was a new moon, so the only illumination came from the stars gazing idly down and distant porch lights shining across the scraggly brush of the dunes. Sam’s neighbors were decent people who cared about baby turtles, so the lights were a low, unobtrusive red, and the ocean sloshed like blood. Sam walked on the beach almost every night, drawing back the gauzy pink curtains and clambering out her bedroom window. She didn’t often bother to be quiet; her mama worked the late shift and came home exhausted. As long as Sam got home before the sun, her mama would never find out that she paced the shoreline and dreamed of inhaling sand until her lungs became their own beach.
The sky was lightening. The sun would come up soon, and that meant Sam’s time on the beach was over. She needed to get back to her real life, go to her fifth grade class and stop that nonsense, as her mother would say. Her mother loved to say things like that, pushing Sam into her proper place by implication alone.
“She’s a good kid, of course, but she’s a bit…” Her mother would trail off there, usually getting a commiserating expression from whoever she was talking to. Sam always wondered how that sentence would have finished. She’s a bit strange, maybe. She’s a bit intense. She’s a bit abrasive. She’s quiet enough but when Jason tried to steal her pencil in math class, she stabbed him in the hand so hard that the lead tattooed him.
Her mother was better, for the most part. The days of her stocking up the fridge, and leaving a post-it note on the counter, and leaving for days at a time were gone. But Sam still stepped around the place on the kitchen tile where her mother had collapsed and caved her head in, even though the bloodstains had been replaced with new tile.
“Your auntie got an abortion, you know,” her mother had said from her place on the couch, slurring her words. “Pill in the mail and then bam, no more baby.”
She had clapped her hands together to illustrate her point. Her mother jerked forward and grabbed Sam by the wrist, then, staring up at her until Sam met her eyes.
“I love you, you know? But sometimes I wonder…” She settled back onto the couch. “Yeah. I wonder.”
She’d gotten up, then, back to the kitchen. She’d been stumbling, a shambling zombie of a woman. The ground in the entryway of the kitchen was raised, ever so slightly, and her mother went down hard. Her head cracked against the tile, chin first, and she didn’t move.
Sam had been the one to call the ambulance. She had stared at the scattering of loose teeth on the ground while she waited, and considered what her life would be like with a dead mom. Not so bad, she thought, and immediately felt guilty for it.
Her mom was better, now, for the most part. But Sam still stepped around the place on the kitchen floor where she had collapsed. There was still a matchbox hidden under her bed with the gleaming shine of her mother’s lost teeth, two canines and a molar. It was nice, having a piece of her mom to keep. Even if she left again, Sam would still have part of her.
Sam sighed, and turned away from the ocean. As she faced towards the low dunes further up the beach, she saw a sandcastle sitting nestled among them. It was such a strange sight that her eyes skipped over it at first, almost automatically, disregarding it because it was so out of place.
Sam found sandcastles out on the beach sometimes, usually half-collapsed and on the verge of being washed away by the waves, but she had never seen anything like the sandcastle in front of her. It was life-sized, something that wouldn’t have looked out of place in the Scottish highlands, with spires shooting up above her head and carefully etched out bricks lining each side. The front wall was dominated by an arched set of double doors, twice her height, with a portcullis nestled at the top, ready to be dropped. All of it was lovingly detailed, down to the rust on the tips of the towers and the wood grain of the door. It was made out of wet, densely-packed sand, held together impossibly. It had not been there two hours ago, when she had come to the beach.
There was a bird sitting on the overhang of the door, small and black.
As soon as she took a step towards the sandcastle, the bird shook out its feathers and swooped down towards Sam, landing at her feet with a little stumble.
“Hey, kid, get out of here,” said the bird.
Sam closed her eyes, very deliberately. When she opened them, the bird was still there. Sam considered herself a very reasonable person, so she immediately drew the most logical conclusion. The bird was, she was almost certain, a demon.
“Trust me, you don’t want to run into Mr. Salty, the queen bitch himself,” the bird said.
“Mr. Salty?” Sam inquired, polite as she knew how to be. She edged to the side, trying to get a good angle to kick the bird like a soccer ball.
The bird did something similar to a wince, all its feathers fluffing up then settling back down. “Ah, don’t call him that. He’d turn you into a toad.”
The bird gestured with its head, towards the looming sand structure. “That’s his castle. He’s in there, probably scuttling along the ceiling or some shit because that’s the sort of weirdo he is.”
Sam nodded, encouraging. She pulled back her foot and lined up her shot, the way she’d seen athletes do on TV. She aimed right for its sharp beak and let loose. The bird saw it coming, its beady eyes widening, and it cawed in distress. It flapped away, avoiding her kick only to fall backward into the sand in a scramble of wings.
“What’s your fucking problem?” it squawked. “I was trying to help you!”
“I don’t need the help of a demon,” Sam yelled, trying to remember the exorcism that her mama had taught her once, because her mama believed in being prepared for anything.
“I’m not a demon,” the bird said indignantly.
It was at about that moment that Sam gave up and just decided to roll with it.
“What are you, then?” Sam asked.
The bird shuffled its clawed feet, looking about as awkward as it could, given that it didn’t really have recognizable facial expressions. “Technically I’m a familiar of the Erlking, prince of the fae, but I prefer to be called Hitch.”
“You can’t blame me for assuming, though,” Sam said. “Ravens do tend to be associated with murder.”
“Hey, excuse you,” Hitch said. “I’m a rook, not a raven. Ravens are way bigger.”
“Sure,” Sam said, not really paying attention. Her eyes had caught on the details of the sandcastle, and she was transfixed by the slow spirals of the sand, the strange beauty of it. She found herself stepping towards the great doors, lifting a hand to knock, and as she did, the sand warped in front of her eyes, heaving itself towards her with bulging slowness. The door creaked open before her, revealing a vast, empty room. Just before she stepped inside, she felt a piercing pain in her foot, and she yelped, leaping backwards.
Hitch pecked her again, really digging his beak in. “Don’t be an idiot.”
Sam glared at him, rubbing her foot. About to retort, she finally really took in the room inside the sandcastle, and her words died in her throat.
There was a body just past the threshold of the door, face down and limbs hanging limp at its sides. Long hair splayed out in a halo around its head.
“Don’t,” Hitch warned, suddenly serious. “Just leave, kid, I mean it. I’ve seen too many people go down this road and you don’t want to be one of them.”
Sam ignored him. She made her way across the beach, slipping with every step. The sand felt deeper, piling up around her feet in silent drifts. She picked up the nearest stick and poked the body with it through the door, ready to leap back if anything went wrong, staying firmly outside of the sandcastle.
This close, Sam could tell that it used to be a woman. Her head wasn’t attached to her body. It hadn’t been a clean amputation, either. Her upper body was bruised, with chunks taken out of it, and the bones in her neck hung mangled, not connected to anything.
“Well, I warned you,” Hitch said, defeated. “I did warn you.”
Sam nudged the head with the end of the stick, nudging it over so that she could see the face. Her mother stared back at her, torn to pieces, breath still wheezing from her lungs. She wasn’t blinking, just gazing forward with glazed eyes. Sweat dripped down from her hairline.
Sam screamed and dropped the stick, tripping over herself in her haste to get away.
Her mother’s eyes were wide and pleading, and she was mouthing desperate words at Sam. Her vocal cords were broken to bits, and the only sound that came out was a strained groan.
The head rolled, inching closer to Sam like a grotesque caterpillar.
Her mother gasped for air, torn lips fluttering. Finally, comprehensible words came out. “Help. Help me, daughter.”
“That’s not your mother,” Hitch said, quiet.
Sam knew that. Her mother was sleeping back at home, and anyways her mom had never asked for her help. She had an aversion to accepting charity, as she put it.
“Okay,” Sam said, shaking all over. “Okay.”
She backed away from the sandcastle, not looking away.
“Failure,” her mother hissed as she stepped away. “I never wanted a daughter like you.”
The sun came up over the horizon. The sandcastle, Hitch, and her mom all disintegrated into sand as the light hit them.
The beach, the next night, was almost exactly how I remembered it. The beams of our flashlights sent light bouncing across the dunes, illuminating the waves, and I imagined faces in the foam of the waves.
“I’ve been back here a hundred times. There’s nothing left,” I said.
Sam took the car key out of her purse and pointed it at the sand, adjusting the sword slung over her shoulder in order to do it. The key had belonged to Hitch; Sam had requested an item of his, and it was the only thing I had left. She rested the key on the sand and drew a circle around it, inscribing symbols around the borders.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
Sam shrugged. “Not much, really. I’m…I guess you could say that I’m knocking.”
The key laid inert on the sand for long enough that I was just about to give up and go home, admit to myself that Hitch was dead and that I was a fool to believe that Sam could actually help me. Then a building started to take shape, flickering in and out like it was struggling to get away. With a pop of displaced air, the sandcastle settled into existence.
Sam banged on the entryway. Nothing happened. She did it again, harder, and scowled when the door still didn’t open.
“We demand entrance, under your honor,” Sam yelled. There was a hard rush of wind, and I gripped Sam’s arm to keep my balance, but the doors cracked open reluctantly.
The inside of the sandcastle consisted of one enormous hall, the roof arching up out of sight. Rafters crisscrossed from wall to wall, and a cobbled path led further into the building, but other than that, it was completely empty, except for the birds. There were thousands of them, perched on the rafters or hopping along the ground. They parted in front of Sam and I, and reformed behind us, leaving us in a small pocket of open space. They were all black-feathered, with sharp beaks and beady eyes.
The Erlking sat on a throne at the end of the hall, lounging across it with his feet up on the armrest. He watched them as they came forward, the soft caw of the birds the only sound.
“I am here to bargain for the life of my brother,” I said, with as much dignity as I could muster, before the Erlking could say anything.
The Erlking ignored her, tilting his head to look at Sam. “I remember you. I almost got you, once.”

Sam glared at him but didn’t respond.
“You want your brother,” The Erlking said to me, and he almost sounded amused. “Then go get him.”
As if by some sort of silent signal, every bird in the room took flight at once, and their cawing made me think of screams. I covered my head against the flapping of their wings, and my vision was quickly obscured by the chaotic movement of them. I found myself on my knees, just trying to escape them.
A hand met my shoulder. Sam urged me to my feet, and together we ran for the edge of the room, where the swarm was the thinnest. We pressed ourselves into the corner and the swarm spiraled tighter and tighter at the center of the room. It went on until there seemed to be no differentiation between the birds, all of them fused together into one creature.
When the chaos died down, the birds had become one mass, with wings and eyes and talons sticking out of its flesh, thrashing and chirping. Human body parts stuck out of it, bulging out from the feathers. It was hands, mostly, with a couple knees or staring eyes. The bird amalgamation had no recognizable facial features, but there was one long beak extending from the front of its head. Most of the body parts were concentrated around the beak, and they peeked out from where the beak connected with muscle, or grew from the tongue, nestled between the two crushing halves of the beak.
It turned its beak down and crawled forward, using the hands to balance. The fingers scrambled over the ground. I was afraid of centipedes as a child, and I felt that same crawling dread when it started moving.
“Holy shit,” Sam whispered, which was rather disappointing, because I had been hoping that at least one of us knew what to do.
The creature turned, a lurching movement that crushed some of the hands underneath it, and started heaving itself slowly towards our corner.
“Better hurry up!” the Erlking called from his throne.
It was blocking the exit, by then. The shifting body of it had moved to block us off. It ambled towards us and I tried to sink further into the corner.
As it approached, getting close enough that I could smell the stink of it, I saw a flash of a tattoo on one of the hands. I leaned in, trying to find it again, like looking for dolphins surfacing in the ocean. And again, I caught a glimpse of a duck tattoo, the tattoo that Hitch had gotten on his hand as a teenager.
I ripped away from Sam’s death grip and ran for the monster.
I fell to my knees in front of it, wincing as I impacted the ground, and reached into the nest of hands. I could feel them tearing at my forearms and ripping into me with their sharp nails, but I kept going. I pressed further in, up to my shoulder in a writhing mass of limbs, aiming for the spot where I had last seen that tattoo.
The hands were tugging at me, wrapping around my back and hair. They were pulling together, trying to draw me completely into the mass of them. I was aware of Sam at my side, anchoring me in place and bashing any hand that got too close with her sword or the sparks that leapt from her hands with muttered words. But I didn’t think it would be enough. They were too strong, and there were too many of them.
I was up to my waist in the hands when something grabbed my palm. I felt the way it clung to me, and the calluses on its palm, and I knew that I had found my brother.
I flung herself back. The hands didn’t want to let me go, and they fought the whole way, but slowly, I made progress. I kept hold of Hitch’s hand in mine the whole time, gripping it as hard as I could. I finally broke free, Hitch with me, and Sam was immediately charging the creature, able to use her sword with much greater strength without being worried about injuring Hitch. She swung it forward, and it sliced through the wrist of one of the hands. It fell without a sound, red sand flowing out of it. It deflated until it looked like dirty laundry, just a piece of limp flesh. The creature shrieked, scuttling away enough that the door was finally accessible. The three of us ran for it, Sam and I supporting Hitch between us.
I looked back as I left and found the Erlking staring right at me.
“Interesting,” he murmured, his voice carrying impossibly across the vast space between us.
The sandcastle collapsed behind us, the great walls falling in on themselves. We were out in the morning sun, the sandcastle disappearing as we watched. Hitch was on the ground in front of me, as young as he’d been thirty years ago, when he was captured. He started laughing, feathers puffing out of his mouth. He laughed until he cried and I hugged him in the way that he’d held me when I was young, in the times when my life had been defined by hunger and fear.
Hitch left, afterwards. He scratched at the pinhole scars covering his body, where feathers burst through his skin, and pulled his long sleeves down around his wrists. He didn’t know where he was going but he told me that he needed time
I had spent thirty years worth of time without him. I wanted to grab my brother by the shoulders and beg him to stay. But he flinched when I hugged him goodbye and he refused to go near sand and he stared distrustfully at the birds chirping in the trees. Hitch needed to go away and I loved him too much to stop him.
I sat out on the beach every morning. I felt the sun on my face and I waited for Hitch to come home.

1330 Terran Front Fleet Time
On the Turinika homeworld, the first signs of unrest began to manifest like a wave, The broadcast of the most esteemed Tizikikoonazikiakakiatkata, Taratanti of the roost Kazatalak, openly performing the act of Kavsa had been met with shock. The last Taratanti who had voluntarily performed Kavsa had done so in protest of the treatment of the Kulorn caste, nearly two thousand years prior. It was an ancient rite, one that signified rejection of the greatest shame. Even more shocking than the act itself was the evidence that had followed it. Visuals of species, brought into the Conclave, not as migrant workers as had been believed, but as slaves, was met with an almost immediate attempt at censorship. This attempt failed spectacularly, mostly due to those who had been tasked to censor the information not only refusing to follow the command, but openly declaring that they had been ordered to do so. A situation that was already, as the humans would say, out of hand, spiraled completely out of control. Within only twenty minutes of the ending of Tizikikoonazikiakakiatkata’s broadcast entire cities entered a state of absolute anarchy. Two planetary capitals were stormed and taken by the furious civilian population, demanding the location of those who had been enslaved. The Turinika Armada, which even then was in the middle of a training session meant to prepare the fleet to withstand the Terran Front’s assault, began to cease operations. Within the hour, the entire armada would be recalled to the turnika homeworld. Those who did not take to the streets simply stopped whatever work they were doing and went to their homes to be around their brood. Images of Tizikikoonazikiakakiatkata with his stripped wings spread wide in front of the human fleet commander were on every news fed of the Conclave, as was the sound of his thunderous voice, and the wails of despair from a turinika female that couldn’t be seen. Close ups of the human fleet commander’s face were shown, with analysts remarking on the shock, horror, and sympathy. Since the outbreak of the Seventh Orion War, the female human known as Simmons had been reported to have made several threats towards the turinika, she had quickly become seen as a warmonger, ready to take revenge against the turinika for refusing to go to war and violate their principles of pacifism. Now the images of her lunging forward to stop the violation of Tizikikoonazikiakakiatkata’s plumage, the agonized expression of her face, and the true reason for her threats against the turinika were rapidly reversing her image. On far flung deep core mining stations and agricultural stations, on deep space stations dedicated to material processing, and in other areas hidden from the sight of the normal turinikan population, overseers and taskmasters felt their hearts run cold at the knowledge that very soon, their part to play in the willful enslavement of another species would be known to the wider Conclave. As the data package transmitted alongside the broadcast were fully decompressed and the scale of the Conclave’s government’s involvement was revealed, the entirety of the Conclave itself was teetering on the verge of absolute pandemonium. The image of a member of the kolra species, from the look of it barely a hatchling, quickly was becoming the face of the entire incident. The picture was absolutely damning, and the sight of the image had sent any who saw it instantly into contorting and painful displays of shame. The young kolra was sprawled on it’s stomach, looking to the one taking it’s picture with eyes that had no life in them. It’s shell covered it’s back, and despite the age of the kolra it was already dulled and scuffed. The foot pressing down on the shell was unmistakably familiar to those who saw it, the clawed feet of a turinika. Within the hour, billions of winged figures stood in streets, the normally soft spoken and passive species demanding action, demanding justice, on the hundred worlds of the Turinika Conclave. The bulk of the Taratanti caste, most of whom had been left in the dark of the truth of the situation, quickly went public with their own declaration of outrage, and the eyes of the entire species turned inwards to the mountainous homeworld of their species.
Hakuri Watanabe looked down at his helmet before putting it on his bed, the stylized SEVEN seeming to stare at him. He sat down in his chair and picked up a small cloth from his buffing kit. No one knocked on his door, in fact, mostly he and the rest of his squad were left alone before a major operation. They were just given their time, time to mentally prepare. Some of his squad would go over their mission briefing, some, like him, would spend their time doing something to relax themselves. Hakuri always found that taking care of his suit calmed him considerably. Granted he could simply turn it over to the squads armorers to be tended to and they would do as good of a job as he could, but he preferred it to be done by his own hand. The symbol of a triangle was on his form fitting shirt, the symbol of his special operations command unit. He was known as a Myrmidon, but the official title of his unit was Section Three. He knew this, his superiors knew this, and as far as Hakuri knew, most of the Terran Front was aware of his unit’s existence, but past that, they knew very little about what he actually did. As far as his mother knew, Hakuri was a pencil pusher onboard the TFS Berlin, the troop mothership that all of his letters were sent from. He thought about writing her, but then again, he only liked to do that when he returned from a mission, not when he was expecting to go to one. If he tried to write her when he was waiting, he would just get anxious, and homesick. That wouldn’t do when he was dropping into a combat zone. That wouldn’t do at all. Hakuri instead started to buff his helmet, waiting for the word to come down which meant they were prepared to jump. A glance at the clock made him pause in his circular rotations. The clock said 1330. Operation Naked Sun was about to begin.
Tika was on his side, Kzia standing at the end of the medical bed that had been adjusted for his turinikan physiology. He felt cold in more ways than one. For his people, clothing was more of a decoration than a necessity, but without his protective plumage he felt the cold stabbing him through to his hollow bones. His diplomatic access was already gone, his privilege access revoked. He heard the broadcast for a preparation to jump, but he wasn’t truly listening. There was no question in his mind he had made the right decision. There was no question at all. One of the humans, a nurse, came to his side and gently laid a heavy blanket over him. The human’s hand lingered on his trembling body for a few moments before it was removed, and Tika glanced in their direction. The female was one of the ones who had responded first to the call for medical service for him, had heard what had happened and why. Tika had gotten very used to being glared at on this ship. He was hated, and he knew it. He knew he had deserved it. He was a party to the vral’s enslavement of the humans, the chua, and far too many others. When he had come to Thermopylae station, he had not even given that fact a single thought. He was born into power, being of the Taratanti. He belonged to the most powerful species and government in the entire quadrant of the galaxy. His people, while mighty, did not seek to use it. To him, they had simply been above it all. When the vral had approached him with the offer to sell captured species at first TIka had wanted to reject it out of hand, but a few had told him to go through with the sale. Such was the nature of this galaxy, or so he had believed. The weak were at the whims of the strong, and one’s place in the galaxy was determined only by the power they could wield. The turinika were not nearly the first to have taken a species and used it for slave labor, and while Tika did not approve of the deal, he had not fought it either. As he looked back to the wall, he remembered what the humans had taught him these last days. When he had arrived in Thermopylae he had assumed he would find the chua species to have been at the very least regulated to a subservient role, if not outright enslaved. Finding them sharing power was a curiosity. He had expected to be treated with all the honor and dignity that his station demanded, that the power of his government demanded. Fleet Marshal Simmons had disabused him of that, and had left him humiliated and shamed. As he had laid in the dark as Simmons had declared the Seventh Orion War, covered in his own filth, feeling as if at any moment he was going to be killed he knew true fear and horrific uncertainty for the first time in his life. He had never faced these emotions, these sensations before. He had always been in power. He had stood with the full might of the Turinika Conclave behind him. He had never known anything other than the superior position. Now, as he lay in the hospital bed, staring at the wall, he was ashamed of how arrogant, how blind, and how short sighted he had been. After he had risen from his own filth, he had desperately tried to convince his leadership of the strength of the Terran Front, how it matched or eclipsed their own. The Conclave was not the unchallenged power in the quadrant anymore. The terrans, the human and chua, had somehow defied fate. They had not fallen to the vral after ninety years of near constant conflict, and now if Tika was right they had come out of it nightmarishly stronger than before. Tika had actually begged to be heard by his superiors, and he had never come close to that once in his life. The chua homeworld however, had fully broken him. If he had not been on the Antares, had not been humbled beforehand, he knew that he would have just clapped his hands together and said that it was delightful. As the transmission from the chua homeworld had come in, and the rescue effort had begun, he could only wallow in his own shame. He had profited directly from the chua’s suffering, the human’s suffering. Again he had tried, and failed, to convince his people, and again he had failed. Being on the Antares, for him, was torture. The lights were too dim, every human and chua looked at him with nothing more than loathing and contempt, his entire worldview had been shattered from the way he viewed the galaxy to his own place in it. Every time he closed his eyes he saw the shadow of Simmons standing over him, her voice cold with a lethal rage, hearing her voice echo in his mind, seeing the glint from flashes of light shining in her eyes. ‘We Know.’ echoed in his mind in his sleep, the voice of the terrifying Fleet Marshal transforming into the sound of a vengeful god demanding compliance and promising retribution. Then he had watched the humans and chua, who he knew were preparing to go to war with his people, celebrating the return of the shesvie. Once more he had expected them to be integrated into the Terran Front, but as soon as he learned Simmons offer to them, and what it had entailed, he had been called to his room to answer the latest message from his people. Once again, his people had doubled down, the knowledge of the enslavement of the humans had been suppressed, and once more Tika found himself, and his people, standing against a Terran Front that had every justification to declare war, to right the wrongs that had been done to them. All the while, he knew something else. He knew that, after everything he had seen, that his people would lose. The turinika had not been to war for nearly two thousand years. His people were not ready for what the Terran Front could do, and after seeing what they had done to the vral so far, he knew his people were not ready for what the Terran Front would do. He was afraid of the dark. Tika was absolutely terrified of it now, because now he knew the monsters were real. Simmons had shown him that, but the humans, the chua, they were not the monsters. He was. He had refused to be one any more. He had announced his intentions to his staff, who had squalled in rejection, all but three. Kzia was the first to step to his side, Kikumot and Tziki had stepped forward as well. Never, in his most nightmarish dreams, did he ever think that he would stand in front of Simmons and voluntarily have his plumage stripped from him, performing the act of Kasva. He never thought that his staff would have ever compiled and transmitted the data package they had sent. He had never thought that he would betray his people, if only to save them. Simmons had changed that, the humans had changed that. He knew the terror of the dark, he knew fear for his people’s safety, he understood the horror of war, and for the first time in his long life he could truly look back at every interaction he had had, with every species, that had asked for help in their struggle for survival against the vral and truly understand their fear and desperation. Now he lay, his plumage stripped from him, his station revoked, his status removed, surrounded by a people who despised him. He wouldn’t have it any other way now. He knew that they would listen now, if not to him, then to the civilian masses of the Conclave that would not stand for what they had done. He prayed to the Great Mother often now, shivering in the dim light, hoping that it would be enough. He had been wrong, and in his error he had sullied his own people. He had made them complicit. Even now, he did not know how they would ever be forgiven, because right now he wasn’t quite sure he could ever forgive himself. As he heard the broadcast calling out on the ship, announcing one minute to jump, he felt a hand on his side, and looked up to the human nurse. She was smiling at him. Not a smile born of malice, or anger, but a genuine smile. She patted his side lightly, then turned to walk out of the room. For not even the twentieth time since he had come onboard Thermopylae, he was mystified by these people.
The bridge of the Dhampir was thrumming with music and the vibrations of the reactor and Conrad leaned forward in his chair mount, his eyes almost feral as he looked at the empty space that was the mandeville point. He was positively chomping at the bit. Batz was positively roaring the lyrics to the song that was blaring over the ships speakers. Rev and Dev sat side by side in their mounts, throwing their hands up in time with the pounding bass beat of the sound. Towns was the only one besides Conrad that was quiet, both of them looking towards the mandeville point with complete impatience. Conrad felt like jumping from his skin. Fidget, well, fidgetted, holding his hands over his headset and listening as if he were trying to hear secret messages in the music. They were ready, their pulses were racing. The crew of the Dhampir was positively vibrating. Conrad looked to the shipboard clock, seeing 1330 displayed, and his head snapped to Fidget, waiting for the word. They were going to run, they were going to chase, they were going to hunt.
Vicky sat back, looking towards Jess and Kukat as they slept. Jess was in her chair, Kukat in her medical bed. Vicky glanced back at the block print on the paper and read it for the fifth time. She read the individual lines, one at a time, cursing their existence. After reading through the message printed she let her hand hang again. Kukat would be released from medical tomorrow, and both her and Jess still thought they would be boarding the Thumper to join the Vellacore once more. Jess had talked non-stop about her quarters on the Vellacore the past few days, how she just wanted to be back in her room. Kukat was equally excited. Only Vicky didn’t share their excitement. They didn’t know yet. They didn’t know about their battlefield promotions, they didn’t know about their reassignments, they didn’t know the days of them working together were functionally over. Vicky looked down at her hand holding the paper again, and felt like crumpling it. She had lost her crew. She had lost them not due to negligence, or time, she had lost them to fame. Kukat was to be promoted to ensign, and was to be the sensor officer on the destroyer Hadrian, Jess was getting the same promotion, her station on the cruiser Victorious. Vicky? She was the sparkling new commanding officer of a destroyer that was arriving at Thermopylae in two days, the Quarrel. She never wanted this. She had turned down promotion after promotion that would take her from the cockpit of the Thumper, away from Kukat, away from Jess. She wanted to serve in this war in her own way, as a pilot, with the two who had made her life so enjoyable. Now though, they were to be split up, and there was nothing she could do about it. These promotions hadn’t come from simple seniority, they had come from High Command, as had the orders. Tomorrow, when Kukat was released, they would be ushered into the hanger bay of the Barrowmore. They would all three be awarded the Star of Terra, then they would be reassigned. Tonight was the last night they would all be together. Vicky wanted to wake them up, she wanted to tell them, to give them a chance to process it. As she looked to Kukat and Jess she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She held up the letter again, reading the first few lines, then she felt the sting of tears in the corners of her eyes. She looked away, her heart panging with sadness, and stared at the wall. The clock read 1330.
Corporal Brandy was sitting on the small rack, with Janet Shippen sitting between his legs using his thighs as armrests. They were both dressed for the first time in the last few hours, both of them staring at the clock. This close to the reactors they could feel them beginning to spool up for the trip through hyperspace. When the news of the operation had come down they had elected to spend as much time together as possible, which Brandy had enjoyed to no end, and he had made sure Janet had as well. Brandy had even taken some time to reach out to his sister Victoria, a rarity for them both, as since they were children they were often barely able to speak to each other simply due to schedules. He had even told her about Janet, and although he hadn’t gotten a response from his sister yet he already knew what she would say. Janet nestled back against him, but he could feel her body was stiff. Neither of them knew what the next few months were going to hold. Their time together might be constricted, in fact, this might be the last few moments they were together for quite awhile. Brandy’s Ghouls were specialists, ship boarders. Chances are he was going to be extremely busy, as was she. He didn’t quite know how he felt about Janet, but he did know that beyond a shadow of a doubt he didn’t want to be away from her. Judging from how she was acting, she felt the same as him, conflicted about her relationship with him, but not wanting to be apart. He knew what he needed to tell her, that he had to get up, that he had to leave. The Ghouls were going to be assembled at 1345, ready to board. Her unit was going to be prepared at the same time, to begin taking on salvage. Her hands were like clamps on his legs, and from how tense she was, he wasn’t going to get up until she was good and ready. The clock on the wall switched to 1330. He stared at the clock, feeling like the clock was mocking him, when suddenly Janet leaned up and turned. Her hands took hold of his shoulders and she threw her body against his, her lips finding his own. Her arms wrapped around her frame and he tightened his grasp on her.
Simmons spread her hands over the panel in front of her, looking at the table. Seven points connected the recently reclaimed chua space to what was former Shesvie territory, and beyond that, the heart of the Vral Empire. Her lip curled in a wicked smile, On the digital display of the table the hyperspace lanes, and more importantly, the avenues of attack her fleet was preparing to take. She held out her hand, all five fingers splayed over the lanes, envisioning the war as it stood now. The war to come. Seven hyperspace lanes, seven systems, branching out into sixteen, branching out again to another twenty. The Antares herself was going to link up with the Barraki, and was set to simply plough through the next five systems to do so. Slowly she tightened her hand into a fist as she looked along the hyperspace lanes, seeing task forces lined up and ready to jump. Drones had already been sent through. The vral had forces along the border, but nothing that could withstand what was to come. Her fleet was ready. She was ready. The Seventh Orion War was at the end of it’s first month, and had taken back six systems. The first moves of Operation Naked Sun would double that and exceed it, then double it again. She had already given her speech, her task force commanders were ready. High Command had taken it’s time making this decision, and while she had railed against the delay that didn’t matter now. All along the front, individual task forces were joined into larger fleets, ready to jump into the next system and eliminate any vral defenses, but unlike now, they simply would not wait. Naked Sun was to be a lightning strike to cut off as much of the Vral Empire as possible, to deny them their own space, to imprison them on their own worlds. Task Forces were designed around three types of vessels combinations, Lighthammer Task Forces were comprised of corvettes and fast destroyers, the fastest vessels in the fleet, meant to take systems quickly, to devastate unprotected infrastructure, and to eliminate light resistance. Simply put, they were going to swarm into vral space, determine pockets of resistance, and move on. They were going to rip entire sections of vral space from them, calling in other task groups if needed. Thunder task groups were the primary capital fleets, meant to be sent into those pockets of resistance, and neutralizing them, joining with the Lighthammer groups if needed. The cruisers, carriers, battleships, they all belonged to these task forces. Her own task force was called the Nova task force, and it comprised only the Antares and it’s sizable fleet escort. Simmons glanced up at the clock, the time was 1329. She breathed in slowly, then unbidden the thought came to her head and she looked to the report from the two habitable planets that had been scanned by the drone cutters, the information having been relayed to her almost twenty minutes prior. She was not worried about the ground campaign, in fact a reserve fleet from Thermopylae would be the ones to escort the landing ships from planet to planet that her fleet left behind in it’s wake, isolated and defenseless from the wider Vral Empire. Fleet escorting was no longer her job, protecting ground invasions were no longer her job. Simmons was positively growling now, as her only job was to take her fleet and use it to rip the vral out of the stars. Still, the thought nagged at her. On both of the planets that her fleet was set to overrun, there were Vral ships in orbit. On the first, there was evidence that the Vral had been bombarding a small area of the surface, extremely similar in size to the hole that now existed on Zvitia, the planet that even now was being integrated into the Terran Front. In the second system it showed Vral ships in orbit, but whatever they were doing during the time they had taken the scans, whatever they were covering up, they didn’t seem to have gotten to it yet. On the radiological scan of the planet a massive bloom of electromagnetic energy painted a broad region of the planet blistering white. She had sent the images back to Earth, back to High Command, but no one seemed to know what was happening. The one thing that every analyst agreed on so far that was that whatever the blooms represented, it meant nothing good. She took another long look at the radiological scan, seeing the intensity of the radiation, and her lip curled in a snarl. She couldn’t think about that right now, but orders had already been given to notify her the moment that they had taken a planet that still bore the radiation signal. The vral were being damned fastidious about it though. She pulled her thoughts away from it, looking back to the hyperspace lanes. The slow grin entered her features again. She glanced at the clock. 1330. Her hand took hold of the receiver next to her station and she pressed the transmission stud, knowing that Hazard had already opened a channel to the wider fleet.
“Commence.”

Welcome to this non-real time meeting of Overeaters Anonymous! I’m LivinAmiracle. I’m a compulsive eater and your leader for this meeting. Will those who wish, please join me in the Serenity Prayer: God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and wisdom to know the difference.
Overeaters Anonymous is a Fellowship of individuals who, through shared experience, strength, and hope, are recovering from compulsive overeating. We welcome everyone who wants to stop eating compulsively. There are no dues or fees for members; we are self-supporting through our own contributions, neither soliciting nor accepting outside donations. OA is not affiliated with any public or private organization, political movement, ideology, or religious doctrine; we take no position on outside issues. Our primary purpose is to abstain from compulsive eating and compulsive food behaviors and to carry the message of recovery through the Twelve Steps of OA to those who still suffer.
Our Invitation to You
The Twelve Traditions of Overeaters Anonymous
Abstinence in Overeaters Anonymous is the action of refraining from compulsive eating and compulsive food behaviors while working towards or maintaining a healthy body weight. Spiritual, emotional, and physical recovery is the result of living the Overeaters Anonymous Twelve Step program.
The OA tools of recovery help us work the Steps and refrain from compulsive overeating. The nine tools are: a plan of eating, sponsorship, meetings, telephone, writing, literature, an action plan, anonymity, and service. For more information, read The Tools of Recovery OA page.
Sponsorship is one of our keys to success. Sponsors are OA members committed to abstinence and to living the Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions to the best of their ability. Sponsors share their program up to the level of their experience and strengthen their recovery through this service to others. To find a sponsor, look for someone who has what you want and ask how he or she is achieving it. Will all abstinent sponsors please identify themselves in their post?
According to our Seventh Tradition, we are self-supporting through our own contributions. Our group number is 99038. Please use the group number when making your contribution. As our virtual group currently has no expenses please consider donating directly through this link to the OA World Service Office, who provides resources for OA groups all around the world to carry the message to other compulsive overeaters.
Suggested guidelines for sharing: As you share your experience and strength in OA, please also share your hope. Please confine your sharing to your experience with the disease of compulsive eating, the solution offered by OA, and your own recovery from the disease, rather than just the events of the day or week. When responding to other member’s posts, please focus on your personal experience rather than advice giving. If you are having difficulties, share how you use the program to deal with them. If you need to talk more about your difficulties and seek solutions, we suggest you speak to your sponsor and other members after the meeting.
*This is a literature meeting. Today we are studying the Big Book of Alcohol Anonymous page 30
We learned that we had to fully concede to our innermost selves that we were alcoholics. This is the first step in recovery. The delusion that we are like other people, or presently may be, has to be smashed.
We alcoholics are men and women who have lost the ability to control our drinking. We know that no real alcoholic ever recovers control. All of us felt at times that we were regaining control, but such intervals usually brief were inevitably followed by still less control, which led in time to pitiful and incomprehensible demoralization. We are convinced to a man that alcoholics of our type are in the grip of a progressive illness. Over any considerable period we get worse, never better.
Closing By following the Twelve Steps, attending meetings regularly, and using the OA Tools, we are changing our lives. You will find hope and encouragement in Overeaters Anonymous. To the newcomer, we suggest attending at least six different meetings to learn the many ways OA can help you. The opinions expressed here today are those of individual OA members and do not represent OA as a whole. Let us all reach out by private message to newcomers, returning members, and each other. Together we get better.

Hi everyone, I hope I am allowed to post my experience with Tangerine here because they have let me down and decided to let 2 scammers keep $7000 even though I have irrefutable evidence.
I just wanted to share my experience with everyone that I just had with Tangerine. They let 2 scammers keep $10,000 from me and refuse to do anything about it. This personal finance related, but here we go.
I own a small business selling furniture and this person from Montreal purchased $7,000worth of items. To keep things simple, the account on my website was under the name lets say is Jane Smith, and the card used to purchase belonged to John Doe. There is a chargeback that ends up getting filed and I call Jane Doe because that is the only phone number I have, and apparently she said that she never heard of John Doe, and her information must have been compromised. I have no other leads, so I send to my bank the evidence that I have that this person hasn't reached out, I am unable to contact them, no emails, no calls, and also provided proof of delivery (I can assure you 100% it was delivered)
John Doe banks with Tangerine, and Tangerine decides that this is not enough evidence and decides to give John Doe his money back. I don't want this scammer to get away with it, so I escalate it with Tangerine and eventually the CCAO (Scotiabank customer complaints appeal office).
I explain the situation and heres the catch, I call Jane Doe again and ask to speak with John Doe, I didn't let her know that I was from company abc, and she says, and I kid you not, 'Oh hes not with me right now, can I take a message', that is when I let her know I was with company abc, she gets flustered and backtracks and says that she already talked to us, has no idea who John Doe was and her information was compromised before abruptly hanging up. I have this phone call recorded. This just proves that they are lying because why would you purchase something using a fake account supposedly.
I give this to the CCAO, who is supposed to do impartial reviews on customer complaints, and they said they can't do anything about it. I even reviewed the evidence that John Doe gave to Tangerine when he opened up the chargeback, and he said that he sent an email and called and I told him that there is nothing that my company could do, I asked Tangerine if they can show me this email because I did not get anything from him, nor did I reply. They refused to investigate further.
Again, I hope it is okay for me to post this, I am just a little sad right now because Tangerine has been awful to deal with and even with all this evidence, they have decided to ignorantly let these 2 scammers commit fraud and I hope I can spread the word on how terrible they are.
Thank you

Hello- wondering if I can have help interpreting this dream I had years ago when I was 16 that’s been burned into my mind since. I can recall every single detail and play the dream through my mind if I wish- it’s been such an impactful dream.
I believe it revealed home, or it was supposed to. Now I’m just trying to figure out how to revisit this place of comfort.
The first two phases of the dream is weird, one of being the perspective of a little boy- the other the perspective of a teenage girl. Third part it’s me being myself.
First phase of the dream, I’m a little boy in a car with my parents and little brother. I’m looking through this boy’s eyes. The car is surrounded in a thick blue fog, yet my parents are driving in silence with the radio playing static- my little brother just acts like a typical calm child. We soon pull up to a big blue shed converted to a house, the fog is so thick I can only see the door and the light that shines above the door. We all walk in, there’s my room ahead of me and there’s a long stretch off hallway from both left and right- but I head into my room. It’s filled with various toys- mainly red and blue ones, Spider-Man, comic hero’s, etc. it’s small, I jump onto my bunk bed and look over the edge to see a pile of “girl toys” hiding, pink various ones like littlest pet shop (I personally played with them as a child). Next thing I know I blink and I’m instantly another person.
When I open my eyes I’m a tall, lanky teenage ginger girl. I’m looking from her eyes as well and notice I’m in a tall office building. We’re quite a ways up, a couple of stories and I can see other buildings surrounding us through the large glass windows. I’m sitting at a tall table surrounded by my friends and classmates, some sitting on the seats around the tables and some sitting around the bottom or bellow the table, just chatting away happily. I’m not engaging but I am taking in the sights. This doesn’t last long, as I look to my left hearing a boy in a grey hoodie say my (this girl’s) name and look me in the eyes- familiarity. I think
Again I blink- and awaken at the edge of a pool. I would’ve drawn a demonstration, but feel as it’s in some way sacred.
I wake up at the foot of this pool shaped like an hourglass- the edges of the pool look to be a rough golden color. I’m on the end side along the edge of darkened water. It looks like charcoal has been dumped into the water and it’s murky. On the other side is this bright, tropical water- glowing like one of those Fischer price fish scenery toys. It glows and refracts like crazy and there’s plenty of colorful, tropical fish swimming around.
Where the smallest point of the pool is and where the two waters meet they’re split perfectly, I can see the shadow of a large sea creature like a pleosaur swim past the border.
Along the edges and bordering the pool are these beautiful and plentiful lush ferns, monstera, palms, various tropical plants. The sky is a deep purple, it is vast, serene and filled with tiny pinpricks of stars. The air is warm, moist and slightly thick but not uncomfortably so.
I start getting up from the pool edge and I’m wearing some loose clothing and jewelry, I have water sticking to my skin and I feel warm.. content.. peaceful. I look to my left and see a golden pyramid- about 8 feet tall at most.
It’s beautiful, I walk towards it. From this my perspective changes to third person, and I envision myself laying my hand flat against the surface of the pyramid, it’s cool, solid and moist to the touch. I then rest my forehead and nose against the pyramid and from there- I wake up.
I had never felt such serenity or peace and I feel as though a message was sent to me for me to remember such a vivid dream in detail.
I will mention that I’ve always been drawn interested and connected to cats since an incredibly young age- and now at 23 I am starting to practice working with the Egyptian goddess Bastet. This dream was before this, though and I wonder if it kicked off my calling.

The original "The Fast and the Furious" released in 2001, contains a biblical subplot. This isn't as farfetched as it seems, considering that this film was re-written before its release by David Ayer, who is considered "...one of the five most prominent Christians in Hollywood." The original screenplay was written by Gary Scott Thompson. His vision for the film was for an all Italian cast racing through the streets of New York City. David Ayer, rendered some rewrites that made the film what has become these 20-something years later. One of his changes sets the film in Los Angeles instead of New York. Scripturally, angels are messengers and there surely is a message in this film, which is a re-telling of Revelation 13 using the analogy of cars and street racing.
To sum up the message of Revelation 13 is this: The Roman Catholic Church represented by "the sea beast" (Revelation 13:1) unites with America represented by "the earth beast" (Revelation 13:11) to issue the Mark of the Beast (Revelation 13:16-18). Scripture supplies the most in-depth literature known to man and this film has become a pop-culture gem because of it. Let's look at some of the symbolism.
Dominic Toretto (Vin Diesel) is an allegory of the Roman Catholic Church. The name Dominic is derived from the Latin Dominicus and is a name given to boys born on Sunday. It is the root word for "Domingo" which is Spanish for Sunday. Contrary to the 7th Day Sabbath of the 4th commandment (Exodus 20:8), Catholics instituted their own day of worship, which is Sunday. Priest Brady, in an address, reported in the Elizabeth, NJ ‘News’ on March 18, 1903, stated, "It is well to remind the Presbyterians, Baptists, Methodists, and all other Christians, that the Bible does not support them anywhere in their observance of Sunday. Sunday is an institution of the Roman Catholic Church, and those who observe the day observe a commandment of the Catholic Church." Their are many pontifical orders in the Catholic Church and one of them is the "Dom-inican" Order. Pope Pius V was of the Dominican Order and he instituted the Inquisition. The Dominican monks are known for brewing beer and in the movie, Dom is constantly advertising "Corona Beer." Dominic Toretto drives a 1993 Mazda RX-7 FD. At the core of this car is a turbocharged Wankel motor, driven by rotors instead of pistons. The rotors are Releaux triangles and were prominent features on gothic style Catholic Churches. The Releaux triangle is also the basic shape for the triquetra which a symbol for the Trinity. The Trinity is never mentioned in Scripture as a name for God which is important. The Trinity is a Catholic invention. The Roman Catholic Church is named as such because it absorbed practices and traditions from the Roman Empire. It was Constantine that issued the first Sunday Law; an attempt to make Sunday holy. They used to hold races in the Coliseum to honor the Roman trinity known as the Captoline Triad or the Archaic Triad. The name Trinity was coined by Tertullian, a staunch Romanist. This is why Dominic uses three Honda Civics to pull of the heists, because Trinitarians believe the Holy Spirit is another being form that sits on the Throne of God; three on the throne. In reality, there are only two being forms, the Father and the Son, on the throne, with their Spirit being inherently there. Dominic's RX-7 has a Veilside body kit. The "veil" (Hebrews 10:20) is symbolic of Jesus Christ and the pope believes that He is an additional incarnation of Christ. In the beginning of Fast X, Dominic is portrayed as a defender of the Vatican and St. Peters. Dominic Toretto is the Roman Catholic Church.
Brian Spilner [O'Conner] (Paul Walker) is an allegory of American Protestantism. The name Brian means "noble" and nobility is defined as having "high morals standards and ideals." Brian is also a police officer or a keeper of the law. America was established as a Protestant Christian nation with the intent of upholding the Law of God. Most Protestants today have forsaken the Sabbath command and uphold the Catholic Sunday. Brian is also on the "wine of Babylon" and is seen drinking and distributing alcohol throughout the film. Protestant denominations now also believe in the Trinity, significantly compromising the strength of the Protest. Is this reflected in Brian's ride? Yes. Brian drives a 1995 Mitsubishi Eclipse. The Mitsubishi symbol is a trinity of diamonds or rhombuses. At the heart of the Eclipse is a PentaStar 4G63 built by Chrysler. Chrysler secured a $75 million war contract to aid in producing J. Robert Oppenheimers "Little Boy"; the atomic bomb dropped on, of all places, Japan. The codename for the first atomic bomb test was "Trinity", named for the Catholic triune god. The American symbolism for Brian's car doesn't stop there. The American rebadged version of the Mitsubishi Eclipse, is the Eagle Talon. There is also an abstract blue and white eagle on the side of Brian's car; the eagle being a prominent symbol for America. Brian's surname "O'Connor" is of Irish origin. Catholics have slandered the name of St. Patrick claiming that he used the shamrock to preach the Trinity, but in reality he was vehemently against, or protested, the Catholic doctrine or the Trinity. Revelation 13:11 says that America sprang up like a Lamb (a symbol of Jesus Christ) but began to speak as a dragon (a symbol for Satan.) This denotes compromise. Brian is seen sitting with Dominic many times drinking alcohol, a sure fire way to lower your inhibitions and compromise your integrity. Brian has illicit relations with Mia, Dominic's sister [who openly displays her devotion to the Catholic Church in the film], which seals his compromise. Brian then ends up lying to his superiors after sleeping with Dom's sister. Brian is an Apostate (Lawless) Protestant Church.
Brian loses his car to Dom in a street race, which transfers ownership of the American-powered Eclipse to Dominic. Eventually, America will be owned by the Roman Catholic Church and will "build an image to the beast" and issue the Mark of the Beast on their behalf. The Eclipse is destroyed. Is not America in such a a state of declension, that the calling of a moral leader seems like the only way to save this country? Remember, Pope Francis came to America in 2015 and addressed not only the nation from the White House, but also an active session of Congress. We are a constitutionally church and state separate nation. What was the Pope doing there? Dom and Brian start working on another car to replace the destroyed Eclipse; a 1994 Toyota Supra. Before 1990, there was no official symbol for Toyota. On October 2, 1989, the official logo was released. The symbol is a "T" comprised of a trinity of ellipses. The code name for a 1994-1998 Supra is the Mark IV(4). So the Toyota Supra contains as mark and a trinity.
So what is the Mark of the Beast? Sunday observance and worship enforced by law. Dominic's name associates him with Sunday and Brian, being a police officer, associates him with the law. When they united to build the Supra together, it symbolized a National Sunday Law aka The Mark of the Beast. Their union also is symbolic of the formation of church and state in America: the "image to the beast." By the way, all graphics for the cars in the film were supplied by "Modern Image." When this forms, we are in "Barney Rubble Trouble." We are a country built on ecclesiastical liberty, but when a Sunday Law is put into motion, those who accept the law, will lose their "Liberty of Conscience." No good. This is why when Pope Francis addressed an active session of Congress, where we pass laws, was not a good sign. In fact, Pope Francis chose a Fiat 500 to ride in when he came to America. The word "fiat" translates to "law." This was not a coincidence.
How does this movie end? After one final race, Dominic flips his car, receiving a "deadly wound" (Revelation 13:3). Dominic (the pope, the outlaw) is not captured and brought up on charges as he should. Instead, Brian (America, the law, the Image to the Beast) hands over the keys to the Supra, giving Dominic complete power and ownership. Scripture says that the Roman Catholic Church will come to an end and that God's true people need to "come out of her...lest ye be partakers of her plagues..."
The promotion of Sunday, the exaltation of the Trinity, the apocalyptic formation of the Image of the Beast (Church and State) and the fraudulent retelling of prophecy is all contained in a little movie about street racing released almost 23 years ago. The sequels, attractions, and merchandise have never ceased to roll off the assembly line. Sequels that point to Dominic as a Catholic Champion. Even in "The Fast and the Furious: Tokyo Drift", the first song to play is "Six Days" by DJ Shadow. [Refer to Exodus -11] This song puts Monday as the first day of the week making Sunday the Seventh Day, giving Sunday the appearance that it is the Sabbath of the Lord. Yes. The Fast and the Furious is arrayed against the Law of God. The sobering fact is, Revelation 13 is already being played out right in front of our eyes. This film, which could arguably be called "The Last Great Film Before 9/11", portrayed the various steps and phases that America, nay the world, was about to go through, with the audience unaware. Sadly, Paul Walker has passed, but the message lives on today, with the OG Fast and Furious still being the greatest effort in the series.
Thank you for your time and consideration. 🙏🏾🙏🏽
Please watch the video Swift to Mischief: A Prophetic Exposition of "The Fast and the Furious" for greater detail.

/ Hayes’ pov /
When Solene’s large sable orbs locked on mine, time stopped, the past five years of pain fell away. Her supple rosy lips upturned and slightly parted- the same way they had before. The same lips I fell in love with. She was beautiful, the same stand out features and subtle curves.
It felt as if gravity was pulling me closer, each step unconscious. With our toes nearly touching, every nerve ending in my body urged me to touch her, to tuck a stray strand of hair away.
“Hi.” Her voice velvety and deep, slightly hoarse.
Unsure of what to say I began to speak, “H- wh- how are you?” The future of whatever could be depended on the next few moments, and I didn’t even know where to begin.
Solene felt the same way, it was evident in her tone, “I’m well, not much has changed, I’m slightly older…” she let out a weak laugh “and Izzy is a sophomore in college. He-“.
“That’s gre-“ I began. “Sorry you go ahead.” I could feel my cheeks pinken.
“I was just going to ask if you’d like to sit and chat, I have time before my client arrives and it would be nice to talk.” Her tone was unreadable, I’d hoped she’d wanted me to say yes.
With a nod of my head, she turned on her heels; her now chin length hair fanning out slightly.
————————————————————————————— Once we reach the offices, Tracy peeks her head out of her office and smirks “Ah hello Adonis.” The comment although to me is more geared toward Solene.
“Tracy, don’t you have some art to purchase or someone else’s awkward moment to make worse.” Solene rolls her eyes, the same mischievous sparkle apparent.
With a small smile, I duck into Solene’s office. Taking in the familiar-small- space, I smile, not much has changed. Photographs of Izzy through out the years, multiple paintings from artists all over the world, and even a few of us during the time we spent together on August Moon’s tour adorn her walls.
Leaving the door open slightly Solene sits on the small love seat she added to the room, its vintage, it suits her.
Taking a seat next to her I smile. She seems to be taking me in, inspecting closely how age and life have affected me. “How are you? I saw you on Jimmy Kimmel last week, are you enjoying the solo route?”.
“It’s been a journey of loss and gain. I didn’t know that with love comes pain, until that day five years ago. The music I’ve been writing is not just about infatuation but yearning for what was.” I realize I may be rambling and pause.
“It’s nice to see you passionate about music again, the same way it was when it was just you and your guitar.” Solene’s hand touches mine tenderly, “tell me more about it?”.
“Well, when we went our separate ways I began to see the road ahead was going to be the same as before if I let it. I could keep on as the British boy who messes about and lets everyone around him make decisions for him; or I could be who I am today. I’m finally involved in the process of my music from start to fi-“ a knock on the door brings me to a stop.
“Solene, Ms. Raphel is here. I know she’s a half an hour early, would you like me to tell her you’re in meeting?” Tracy looks pained as if she’s interrupted a super secret meeting- which she has, but it’s not the end of the world.
Solene’s eyes bounce between mine and Tracy’s “Fucking artists. They’re never on time, it’s always absurdly early or laughably late.”
Deciding for the both of us I stand up, “This is important Sol, I’ll be here as long as it takes. As long as your number is still the same, I would be more than happy to schedule something.” Tracy shuts the door slowly and leaves us alone again.
“Hayes, are you sure? I can tell her I’m in a meeting, I can’t expect you to move your busy schedule around because of my client’s inability to tell time.” Solene stands and begins shuffling papers on her desk, no matter what she says I know I’ll go to the ends of the earth for her.
Standing behind her I place my hand on her shoulder “I’ll be available whenever you are. Good luck with the new client.” I walk to the door before turning back “Oh and Solene, you’re still hot or whatever.” With those parting words I open the door leaving her blinking in shock. ————————————————————————————— As I sit on the sofa of my new flat, I’m like a teen boy again. Do I dare flirt with the girl? Keep it simple? I begin typing something only to delete it until I hit send on impulse.
-Hayes- I was wondering if you’d like to get some really fucking good sandwiches sometime? ————————————————————————————— • It’s been two hours since I left the gallery, fifteen since I sent the text, and five minutes since Solene has read it. Patience and tranquility are two things I am fresh out of when it comes to waiting.
-Hayes- I know you’ve read it Sol, it’ll be just lunch.
This time she replies immediately
-Solene- I don’t know Hayes… it was always just lunch.
-Hayes- I’ll behave, or try to. Pls?
Knowing she won’t be able to say no, I prematurely do a little dance.
-Solene- I’ll think about it, maybe.
-Hayes- Go easy on my poor heart Sol. One sandwich. Not even drinks. Just bread. Yes?
At this point I may as well be on my knees, she still knows how to make me work for it. Leaving well enough alone I decide to go for a run. The waterside park in Santa Barbara has become my refuge-aside from my music- the waves and fresh, cool air keep me grounded.
————————————————————————————— After running for an hour I look at my messages to see a simple victory but a victory nonetheless.
-Solene- Fine you win. Lunch. I could go for a good sandwich.
(To be continued)

I was evicted by my own parents on Christmas Eve via texting war with my step day during a 10hr shift as a barber. I was informed my youngest daughter (6) wouldn’t be returning from her fathers house for Christmas that same day. My oldest daughter (16) and I were casted out of our family’s traditional Christmas festivities and we spent Christmas Eve and Day alone. The day after she went to “lunch” with my ex mother in law and never came home. I was devastated which caused a pain flare up (fybromiaga/myofacial pain syndrome/stage 4 endometriosis, degenerative disc disease). I couldn’t get out of bed. I had to call off. I was fired on January 3rd. On January 6th I was pulled over and arrested because the passenger of my vehicle had put 3GS of crack in an old prescription bottle of mine she stole from my house earlier that day. January 8th my phone was turned off. On the 10th my car broke down and I just got it back yesterday morning.
While my phone was off I missed every call and message sent to me by Child Services. I missed every opportunity to defend myself against the lies and accusations made by my ex. My mom had started forwarding my mail to the post office without my knowledge. I received not 1 certified letter. I missed my first 2 court dates.
I spent almost a month alone in the house I was abused in as a child/teen. The house I shared with my daughters, no car, no phone, no money, and eventually no food.
In a span of two weeks, I lost my kids, my family, my house, my job, my phone, my car, and was arrested.
I’ve never been in trouble in my life. Always had full custody of all three of my children find the age of 17. and for the most part without any involvement of their fathers outside of the weekends. But I lost all of it. My ex had manipulated my family in believing complete lies about me. Smear campaigns surround me every day. Every morning I wake up and realize where I am, and how far away from my children I am and I lose it. I cry every time I open my eyes. It’s been months. And every day it hurts more. Because I can’t afford a lawyer, there’s a very good chance I won’t get them back.
My son (22) lives in a different state but calls almost daily bc he knows he is the one that is keeping me here. But if I lose custody of my youngest daughter, like I did my oldest, there’s no way I can continue living like this, feeling this much pain, physically and emotionally every single day. My little one. I cry all day every day. She was my sidekick . We went everywhere together. She was right by my side since the day she was born, She is my best buddy and they ripped her away from me. Without a single conversation. Not one. My exes, vindictive, hateful actions can only possibly be fueled by his desire to not go to jail for the $15,000 he owes in back child support. Up until a week before this, he was still trying to come back home. Still making advances on me. Leading me to believe that we were friends. But now I know it was all part of the plan. He had been plotting for months. Because my family operates in such negativity towards me they happily took the bait. I will never speak to any of them again. And the only reason why I haven’t been able to get my children back is because he dismantled my life by ensuring that I couldn’t afford a lawyer. Nothing in the report was true. It was all lies based on hearsay. So I’m here to warn you… no matter how good of a mother you are, if someone is determined to take everything away from you, they will. All I have left to do is pray to whatever God will listen to me. A lawyer shows up at my doorstep, expecting zero payment, and they fight to bring the truth to light. for me. Otherwise this is all going to end soon for me. I just can’t handle the sadness. I haven’t seen my daughter since December 20, 2020 23. I never gone more than two days without her before that. my heart aches more at the thought of her being alone without her mother than it does for myself. My teenager is not trapped with her abusive narcissistic, father. Being treated like dog shit. Unable to speak to me or her brother. All my family invites that monster and his mistress to Easter and breaks bread with them. It’s all so twisted. I just want this nightmare to end.
Thank you for allowing me to vent.

Hey guys, I (25M) wanted to post this here and get some advice of what to do next? I have been considering legal action, but I wonder if I have much of a case here. Some key things to note:

• I live in Nevada, USA, which is a right-to-work state and I was about to complete my 6-month probationary period before I was let go.
• I never signed off on a termination letter or any written statement about what happened
• The company I work for is a private company

I have been talking to my company's HR department about what happened and am still waiting to see what they say at the time of writing this. I'll just copy and paste what happened from the written statement I gave them:
"On 5/9/24 I was originally scheduled to work at 2 PM, and was heading into our office on the second floor when Chris, my director, was waiting for me at the elevator doors. At that moment, I did not know he requested to speak with me as I had not checked my messages yet prior to arriving to work. I followed him to a meeting room behind the bar on the casino floor and sat down with him and Kevin, a new Operations Manager that had just been promoted, as a witness. Chris informed me that I was being let go, to my shock. I asked why. He gave me a rather vague answer about how many factors have led to this decision, but he does not believe that I will mesh well with the team long-term and unfortunately it has come to this. When I had first started in my position, Chris and I had only two conversations about my progress and his concerns:
One was with my former superior Paul and Chris about how some of my behavior was a bit distracting to others and while it is good to be enjoying your work, please focus on my work and try to conversate with my coworkers about things relating to the job. I understood that, and took it in stride. I reigned it in and focused more on my tasks at hand and never heard another such complaint.
The second was when I had incorrectly scored an NHL game one night and the mistake was not found out until the next day, causing an all-around headache. I had similar, more minor mistakes in the past, so Chris told me to do better and that while mistakes are bound to happen, to have a better attention to detail. I understood and had improved in the months since that conversation and I hadn't made a mistake like that since.
With these in mind, I said to Chris that he couldn't deny that I hadn't improved since starting my position and my former issues had already been rectified, to which he agreed. So I asked him to give me a more tangible reason behind his decision. He cited my interactions with my coworker Logan made her feel uncomfortable in the office.
Logan is a girl the same age as me and her desk is on the other side of the room. My interactions with her were limited simply because of this fact and the most I ever spoke to her was greeting her when I arrived in the office, as I greeted everyone else, and benign small talk. May 9th is also her birthday, as I had heard from some of her other coworkers, so I even got her a birthday card and a singular cupcake that day.
For the record: I never singled her out in this treatment; in fact many times I had offered snacks or food to fellow coworkers. I even brought in staple snacks in Chinese culture for Chinese New Year this year a few months ago for the whole office to try. I offered them to everyone including Logan, as it is a big day in my culture and unfortunately I had to celebrate while at work. In my opinion, things like reminders of your birthday while at work is a very inclusive gesture and I was actively trying to make our company a better place to work at by promoting a more positive culture by setting an example. I even asked a coworker for his birthday so I could remember when it came around, as I realized I didn't know anyone's birthday yet. I did not mean anything by my actions, if they truly were making Logan feel uncomfortable, and I think some sort of warning beforehand would have been more than fair. If Logan herself was too uncomfortable with saying it to me personally, I could've also have heard it from any of my superiors first.
I made this point in my conversation with Chris; his only reply to me was that some people aren't comfortable enough doing that without hurting anyone's feelings. I feel that there is something more than what Chris told me and Logan's perception of me may not be the only reason I was terminated. And if Logan's perception of me was a deciding factor in my termination, I do not appreciate that treatment or assumptions being made of me simply because I am a man and she is a woman and therefore all my actions are perceived as malicious and/or having ulterior motives."

Background Info: I (stupidly) got back with my abusive and cheating boyfriend. I had to move back in with my mom a few months ago so our physical contact has been limited. I was hanging on to the hope that if I stuck around that he would eventually pay me back the almost 10,000 dollars he owes me and to spend time with his dog who I love. I thought we could work through previous issues and things would improve. (I am an idiot)
Last week I had the opportunity to go over and spend time with the dog and see how the garden I planted last year was doing. I stayed overnight and the next day he spent mostly sleeping because he has been working overnights. I then (stupidly) looked through his unlocked phone. He had changed his passcode because of how I found out about all of the cheating in the first place. I saw it unlocked and I just went for it despite knowing that I would hate what I saw. Turns out it was way worse than I thought. Not only is he screwing many different men and women, buying drugs or attempting to, but also using pictures of us/me to do these things. The pictures I saw he used CLEARLY show my face and I have never ever consented to him sharing these pictures with anyone, let alone with STRANGERS ON THE INTERNET.
I took a picture of one message exchange but I was so sick to my stomach I couldn't look anymore. I read the law regarding Pennsylvania's revenge porn but I am not clear on whether this falls into that category. Can anyone clarify that for me? What would be the first thing I do if I wanted to pursue this legally? I don't particularly want to get near him again to obtain more evidence because I am honestly scared of him and his disgusting behaviors. Do I need a lawyer? Honestly any advice is welcome, I am a mess right now and need logical advice. I have no idea how many people now have access to these photos and I do not want anymore to be used. I am horrified that one of my many redditor friends will find me on one of the porn reddits.. Here is the info on revenge porn in PA:
§ 3131. Unlawful dissemination of intimate image.
(a) Offense defined.--Except as provided in sections 5903 (relating to obscene and other sexual materials and performances), 6312 (relating to sexual abuse of children) and 6321 (relating to transmission of sexually explicit images by minor), a person commits the offense of unlawful dissemination of intimate image if, with intent to harass, annoy or alarm a current or former sexual or intimate partner, the person disseminates a visual depiction of the current or former sexual or intimate partner in a state of nudity or engaged in sexual conduct.
(b) Defense.--It is a defense to a prosecution under this section that the actor disseminated the visual depiction with the consent of the person depicted.
(c) Grading.--An offense under subsection (a) shall be:
(1) A misdemeanor of the first degree, when the person depicted is a minor.
(2) A misdemeanor of the second degree, when the person depicted is not a minor.
(d) Territorial applicability.--A person may be convicted under the provisions of this section if the victim or the offender is located within this Commonwealth.
(e) Nonapplicability.--Nothing in this section shall be construed to apply to a law enforcement officer engaged in the performance of the law enforcement officer's official duties.
(f) Concurrent jurisdiction to prosecute.--In addition to the authority conferred upon the Attorney General by the act of October 15, 1980 (P.L.950, No.164), known as the Commonwealth Attorneys Act, the Attorney General shall have the authority to investigate and to institute criminal proceedings for any violation of this section or any series of violations involving more than one county of this Commonwealth or another state. No person charged with a violation of this section by the Attorney General shall have standing to challenge the authority of the Attorney General to investigate or prosecute the case, and, if a challenge is made, the challenge shall be dismissed, and no relief shall be made available in the courts of this Commonwealth to the person making the challenge.
(g) Definitions.--As used in this section, the following words and phrases shall have the meanings given to them in this subsection unless the context clearly indicates otherwise:
"Law enforcement officer." Any officer of the United States, of the Commonwealth or political subdivision thereof, or of another state or subdivision thereof, who is empowered to conduct investigations of or to make arrests for offenses enumerated in this title or an equivalent crime in another jurisdiction, and any attorney authorized by law to prosecute or participate in the prosecution of such offense.
"Minor." An individual under 18 years of age.
"Nudity." As defined in section 5903(e).
"Sexual conduct." As defined in section 5903(e).
"Visual depiction." As defined in section 6321.
(July 9, 2014, P.L.1013, No.115, eff. 60 days)

2014 Amendment. Act 115 added section 3131.
Cross References. Section 3131 is referred to in section 8316.1 of Title 42 (Judiciary and Judicial Procedure).

AITA for expecting my boyfriend to communicate/message me when he is at work?
Hello! I’m 25(F) and my boyfriend is 24(M). We have been together for 4.5 years.
A little background into our relationship: - My boyfriend is a very solitary, secure and logical guy who’s not necessarily always in touch his emotions, let alone other people’s. He’s in the military. - I’m a very empathic, emotional and kind person who relatively insecure. I work in healthcare. - When I first entered this relationship, I was very secure and after being cheated on and also having endured DA with my current partner, I have become very insecure/self conscious/extremely anxious and over think everything. (I’m aware the relationship isn’t healthy, and I would appreciate steering away from discussing this or having people give their opinions on me “leaving him”, etc… I have genuinely heard it all and just don’t need to be made to feel worse, please..!)
So.. to the actual dilemma. We’ve been arguing throughout our whole relationship about his lack of/and poor effort in communication. Recently it’s become one of the biggest issues we can’t seem to get over.
Personally, I would like him to message me every so often during his working day. This could be a simple “I’m missing you”/“Thinking of you, hope you have a good day”/“Im busy right now doing ABC, I’ll message you more when I’m free” to a full conversation. I get that being at work and being busy is a part of life so I don’t expect hour long phone calls or anything ridiculous, I just want a little check in here and there. I work on an ambulance and my shifts are 12hrs long, to which I never finish on time because we’re so busy! But regardless, I will always find time to message and check in.
With him being in the military, his working day could be in the office or out in the field somewhere so I understand that sometimes messaging frequently isn’t possible and have been super understanding with this out whole relationship.
Recently, he has been working away during the weekends at events promoting and advertising the military and so the communication has been pretty much non existent when he’s working. He doesn’t have much data on his phone and has it turned off all the time, so pretty much 99% of the time when he’s “out-out” at an event and not on his military camp, my messages won’t deliver. When he arrives back on camp, that’s when my messages will deliver and go through. When he’s back on camp, he’s technically not working anymore and the most he will be involved in, is putting any relevant kit away and de-servicing everything.
Yesterday night we had another argument about his communication. He was working at an event this weekend and messaged me good morning at 0635. I messaged him throughout the day and the messages didn’t go through as expected, but then at 1733, they went through (implying that he was back on camp). I carried on messaging as normal and still didn’t hear anything back hours later. He messaged at 2053 saying he has been busy. I was super pissed off that in the space of 14hrs (3hrs of which he has been back on camp and technically should be free to message), that I had not heard from him or had the smallest check in/update message.
My argument is that essentially where there’s a will, there’s a way. I don’t expect anything crazy and it takes only a few quick SECONDS to type up a short message to just make your partner feel loved/thought about and important. If he couldn’t access WiFi whilst out at the event then fine, but he still had the 3hrs he has been back with WiFi to drop a quick text. The event he was at was about 1.5hrs away from his camp and I mentioned that during this time that he was on the bus, he could have dropped me a message via normal text or even typed up a message ready for when he has WiFi, but didn’t. I feel like good and consistent communication is a basic, non negotiable in a relationship.
His argument is that he was busy, preoccupied by other things and essentially, I just don’t cross his mind when he’s working and therefore if I’m not on his mind, he doesn’t then use a couple of seconds to text. He doesn’t see that it’s a big deal and frankly doesn’t see the issue with not dropping in.
For me I feel like fundamentally, there is an issue if your partner doesn’t think about you at all in a day. I think about his all the time, regardless if I’m at work or not. I don’t sit there and just think about him, he literally just sometimes pops into my head or I could be doing something in the day that reminds me of him. I brought up this concern of mine, but I got the reply “Okay but I was just working today tho I dont get it. My mind at that point is preoccupied with work things and unfortunately it's not disney and I dont think about you 24/7 so that when these free 5 seconds windows occur I'm not jumping on the opportunity to send these messages. Now if you have a problem with that I'm afraid I dont think that can be fixed”.
When I brought up that lots of people in the world also have jobs and can still have healthy and successful relationships with good communication during a work day, I got the response “Yes and i’m sure these people arent doing all these amazing communication skills while they are working”.
After receiving the responses I have, I feel slightly gaslit and I also feel like I’m over reacting or being too demanding.
So AITA for expecting at least a quick check in message here and there during his working day?
And this is not quite a “AITA” question, but: 1. Am I wrong in thinking that the majority of people in relationships that hold down jobs, do message and communicate with their other half’s at some point during the working day? 2. Am I living in some “Disney”/fairy tale fantasy where I believe that people just naturally should/will think about their partners/have thoughts of their partners during the day whether it be deliberate or accidental?
Thank you in advance!