Hi all.
I work for a Local Authority in South West of England. It’s a Unitary Local Authority that I’ve worked in for eight years. I work as a Social Worker with vulnerable children in Child Protection.
In August 2022 I came back from Maternity Leave and handed my notice in. Management didn’t want me to leave so offered me a position that hadn’t been created yet. The post was a secondment for a period of 6 months, I did the interview and I’ve been in post now for 18 months or so. In August 2024 it’ll have been two years.
The role wasn’t hard at first but over time I picked up more and more responsibility such as supervising other people, writing policy and quality assurance of documentation being filed through to Court (family Court). These were all outside of the original job description. I was happy to pick up these responsibilities, I thought I was progressing in my career. My manager had informed me for the last six months that it is her intention to present the post to the ‘grading panel’ as the formal post didn’t actually exist yet and I was still seconded. She said it was her intention for the post to be a Team Manager position, so understandably I hung in there because of the promise of more money and progression.
When I picked up the post I was told, no you can’t have anymore money or move along the pay scale. It was something I always raised in supervision, when will my role be graded? To be told it was being worked on etc. It was never graded.
I finally had enough of this and handed my notice in, in February. I’m due to leave on the 28th of May. There have been loads of other issues relating to a hostile work environment contributing to me handing my notice in, which haven’t been resolved.
My manager told me last week that the post had conveniently been graded now and it was now a Team Manager position (an extra £4,000) a year). I’ve spoken with a solicitor but they’re asking £5,000 just for representation.
Do I have a case here? I feel duped and taken the p*ss out of. I’ve submitted a formal complaint with the service director but have had no response.

Just another fun little story idea I had. I am still working on Humans are the violent ones but I like to bounce around and experiment with ideas to see what I really like. I also suck at writing more casual stories, as they give me severe writer's block as I try to map out how to make a scene feel genuine in my head, but I promise I'll update that soon. If you like this story and want to see more, then like and comment. I'll gladly continue this series as well.
Start of Personal Log
Humans don't like being told what to do. They don't like being commanded, put in their place, or snubbed. It was an inexorable, inalienable trait of humans, at least any noteable humans, to go against any authority that they believed was against their interests.
Humanity would not fit amongst the stars. Few ever did. It was a trait of most successful species to be willful, ambitious, and to desire more. But once they reached the stars the new (and simultaneously very old) pecking order either quashed any spirit such species had or simply eradicated them. Countless tomb worlds and diaspora served as painful reminders of what became of the nails that chose to stick out. The hammer of order would always strike. There could be no compromise, the very soul of the authority that held the Jurisdiction together relied on a show of unmatched power, or at least the illusion of item.
In reality, the Jurisdiction was an old, fat, and lazy beast. It filled its belly on the corpses of empires far and wide, and sated its bloodlust on the shattered dreams of hopeful cubs. It had every right to, for none could challenge it: there were no new frontiers to explore, nor were there any other enemies to conquer. The Milky Way, as humans had so strangely dubbed our cradle galaxy, as well as Andromeda, had long since been warred over and settled for millennia before humanity had arrived, bright-eyed and with familiar yet otherwise foolish dreams of cooperation and prosperity. The Jurisdiction did not cooperate, nor did it ensure prosperity. Oh, it claimed it did, but in reality it simply took. The rest was just the peace that came with not being the direct target of the biggest fish in the pond. The humans didn't like that, but they had no choice.
Slavery was a common tribute. The Jurisdiction had no use for other resources: it simply took. No, it wanted those who could facilitate that unequal exchange, those raised in a world where the only morality was the one set by your lord. The Jurisdiction was held together by expectations, obligations, and dury more than any kind of shared dream, so when you were ordered to take you did so without question. Humanity was new: they had no niche or value that set them apart, but they had a penchant for killing and taking, so the Jurisdiction gave them a taste of how the galaxy worked. They killed and they took. The humans didn't like that, but what choice did they have?
Humans were strange. They learned, but not in the way most species learned. Most species learned to adapt in a passive way, to adhere to the world around them. They flowed like water, moving past and around obstacles and confirming to the boxes they were assigned too. Humans didn't confirm, nor did they adapt: they made their circumstances fit their desires. They would not move around obstacles, but rather smash through them, and they refused to stay in one box for too long. The Jurisdiction merely saw them as a particularly loud nuisance, but those who faced their wrath knew better.
It is said that when a beast seeks to make an example, it shall humble its rival by killing it's cubs. Children were one of those universal constants that brought entire communities together: the Sok’klar saw their hatchlings as gifts, shaped by the fruitful currents of the universe in perfect harmony. The Yarrack saw each and every newborn whelp as an uncut gemstone, ready to be shaped into something magical. Humanity oftentimes referred to their offspring as angels, or spirits of unbridled good sent by the gods themselves. Children were seen by most of the galaxy as gifts.
The Jurisdiction saw them as a lever to inflict suffering. It had become quite effective at enacting psychological punishments on those that stood up and spoke out. You dare to disobey? You believe you can speak out? Your gifts shall be taken from you, and you shall be without joy.
Humans didn't like this, but the Jurisdiction would have their pound of flesh, and humankind would kneel. And they did. But humans were patient creatures: most species who retained that trait of willful spit also lacked patience.
I had long since become desensitized to the Jurisdiction’s actions: it was simply how the universe worked now, as if it were a constant akin to gravity. Cruelty was the unspoken rule of this seemingly unending age, where our lives never appeared to move forward or backwards, only lay dormant. The Jurisdiction had been the unyielding authority that ruled the galaxy for thousands of years, venerable yet feared all the same.
And for the longest time I was just another cog in its wheel. My name is Kalnuracht Sedjuur-Noumar VII, and was the scion of the noble house Sedjuur-Noumar. I was born into what most would describe as veiled apathy, living a life that could be attributed to the privileged class of feared scribes that enacted the will of those above. I was an administrator and nothing more. And now I am doomed to be far less than that in the eyes of my former constituents within the endless administration. I am the only scion, as is tradition, and without an heir I am the last of my house, our name to be scrubbed from the records, worthless, meaningless, and forgotten.
I am merely Kalnuracht, nothing else and nothing more. I have seen from their eyes, the eyes of the downtrodden, and it makes my crimes of association with the Jurisdiction feel all the more damning on my worthless soul. I am worthless to the world, and this is my story.
End Personal Log #1
Start of Neural Lace Narrative Log #1
They came from the black like carrion birds in the night, encircling our convoy as if it were a dying animal ready to be picked clean without remorse. There was no warning, no list of demands sent out as civilized peoples did, nor was there either any requirement for unconditional surrender nor chance to parlay, as was done so under letter of marque: this was an unmistakable call for violence and nothing else. They sought to reduce us to slag and scavenge the rest.
So, as one would expect, the entire bridge of the ship was nearing a panicked state. This was not the actions of those practicing civility, but rather the common behaviors of despoiling barbarians, the kind that tore their way through the dark reaches of the galaxy as if they owned it.
“Wayfinder, what do your probes see?” Shouted the ship’s sovereign. He was an older Kar’Rowmach, an amphibious cephalopod species with a venerable history within the Jurisdiction going back thousands of years. Normally one such as him would be above me if it weren't for the fact that I was under the authority of the Jurisdiction’s seal of office. He didn't like me very much, but most of his kind shared the same sentiment.
“All dark, honorable Sovereign: the sensor arrays are wailing but the feedback we're reviewing is beyond incomprehensible,” the wayfinder replied with a certain restrained temper in his voice. The Sok'klar wayfinder swayed gently, his tentacled limbs grasping different metallo-liquid braille output arrays, the liquid gallium flexing and reshaping unnaturally to allow him to to take in multiple different sources of sensory output at once, with the primary navigation computer plugged into the cybernetics surrounding his opaque, gelatinous head and plugging directly into his tube-shaped brain.
The Sovereign cursed in Loskat and pointed to his bridge crew while I simply sat in the back, near the Sovereign’s symbolic throne. “Prepare countermeasures and spool up the warp drive, we cannot allow the amanuensis to be taken! He carries sensitive information that only he can translate and transcribe!”
As the bridge crew nodded and began fiddling with their own systems, I preened my feathered hide anxiously. I wasn't a fighter: us nobles of the cloth were the educated minority above all else, not those who waged war or partook in hard labor. Special cybernetics in my brain allowed me to translate triple-encoded messages that usually took a ducal signet codekey or above to parse, but even without that I was a skilled mathematician and logician. I had terabytes worth of knowledge stored within the hardware installed in my head, all well protected of course, but if I were to die it would still be a waste. I could only imagine the damage any malcontenders could do with it if they were able to get their filthy hands on me.
Suddenly, the ship rocked, and the gallium overhead display began to form crescendos like I'd never seen before. “Sovereign, decks A-3 through C-12 are venting atmosphere and our coolant systems have been obliterated,” the Wayfinder spoke in an almost serene voice, as if he was completely unconcerned by current events. I knew they were simply incapable of tonal displays, but it was unnerving nonetheless. “Once we jump, we will not be able to risk another until the vacuum of the void can reduce temperatures to acceptable levels within the plasma capacitors.”
“Damn them,” the armored nautiloid hissed, his barbed feelers coiling in frustration, “May the currents take them. What are our options? what can we see? This fleet cannot fall to the void today, not with such vital cargo.” My hackles rose lightly at the Kar’Rowmach referred to me as some object rather than an esteemed amanuensis of the Jurisdiction, but I bit my forked tongue. Now was not the time to squabble with the sovereign over who was what and what titles I deserved, not while he was so desperately attempting to keep what semblance of order within his fleet that he had left.
I could not blame the crew for being panicked either: wars were practically mythologized now, having been long since rendered obsolete with the rise of the Jurisdiction, and that felt like an eternity ago. Now, either being levied into or joining a ducal naval force was simply another career, more akin to serving as an officer of the law rather than a fully fledged soldier. Minimal training was required, most of it being the technicals of one's duty rather than any kind of combat conditioning, so expecting a fleet to actually be prepared for a combat scenario in a universe where peace was the norm was laughable.
“We are practically blind, Sovereign,” stated the Sok'klar Wayfinder, “our probes are offline, and shipboard graviton displacement sensory arrays have been rendered unreliable at best.”
“What about the particle emission array? Has there been a spike in radioactivity where we were hit?”
The Wayfinder seemed to think for a second, his gelatinous form flexing and morphing a bit before answering. “Affirmative, a jump from negligible to forty billion becquerels along decks A through E-5 on our starboard side.”
“Torpedoes…” the Sovereign hissed, stroking his barbed feelers, “Human Torpedoes. Only those primitives would rely on crude nuclear warheads.” He then turned to his militant leaders on the ship. “Noddos, Rel’ads: organize your phalanxes and prepare to repel boarders. We are bound to be assailed by those rancorous primates, and I want their skulls piled at my feet if they dare set foot on our ship.”
“Your wish is our command, Sovereign,” the two militant commanders spoke as one. Noddos, a large bipedal with multiple sets of curved spines running down his back, a pair of graceful horns sprouting from his head, and multiple rows of sharp teeth in his snout, bowed first, followed by Rel’ads, a marsupial with long saberteeth and thick fur. They both must have been fierce warriors in their own right to each lead a phalanx. They wore thick, semi-powered armor and held dueling polearms alongside their usual plasma casters, and seemed completely unfazed by the situation we were in. As they stomped out of the brightly lit bridge, I let out a quiet squawk of discontentment. “Sovereign, why haven't we jumped again? We are wasting precious time.”
“I am working on it, you spineless beaurocrat!” He warbled back, his feelers tensing in anger, “besides, it's not as if you're the one who will be spilling blood today, amanuensis, so flatten your wretched beak or I shall weld it shut with a plasma torch.
I was about to reply with something indignant, but the ship rocked again, this time causing the lights to flicker and the air to become… thick. The skin under my feathers began to blister, and I became lightheaded and confused. “Seal the damnable vents, initiate radiation scrubbers, and activate secondary life support!” Shouted the Sovereign, “Their nuclear weapons are rendering the ship inhospitable!”
I coughed up magenta blood accidentally, and I could feel more seeping from under my eyes. Some of the crew was in a similar position, but others were more resistant to radiation than I. The Sok'klar seemed completely at ease as he ran his tentacles across his morphic braille arrays before calmly announcing the ship’s status. “I've regained some control over our probes: ten, twelve, and seventeen are active and fully functional, the rest are either still malfunctioning or permanently inoperable. A rapid rise in localized radiation is also interfering with the detection of graviton displacement; we can't sense photon redirection, thus readings will remain inconclusive.
“Wayfinder, damn you, get me some kind of out here! We're easy prey until we can respond in kind!”
“Negative, something has gone awry with our processing hub, I am attempting to troubleshoot-”
And with that, the Wayfinder’s bulbous head exploded in a cascade of opaque lavender blood, covering the front half of the deck crew like a morbid art piece. Some of the crew screamed and shouted in terror before removing their cranial adaptors and choosing to interact with their displays manually. Others died just as quickly, unable to unplug in time as their brain stems fried or their blood boiled. It was a horrible way to go, having your insides neutralized by your own cybernetics, so I was glad I wasn't connected to the system.
“Cybernetic warfare! All systems are to be considered compromised, switch to manual settings or you'll be killed!”
The lights in the bridge flickered again, and the displays went haywire. The bridge crew, which obviously weren't acquainted with working without being hard-linked into the mainframe, moved at a much slower pace.
“Launch missile pods A through F and set to self-target after five hundred kilometers, then rely on their ballistic coordinates to begin firing broadsides! If we can't see the humans due to their meddling, we'll just have to feel them.” Shouted the Sovereign, “and got me a detailed report on the ship’s diagnostics readings. I need to know if this flagship is still capable of escaping or if we'll have to scuttle it and retreat on another.”
“Acknowledged, Sovereign, launching now,” affirmed another deck officer as he swiped across his own gallium output array. I could hear the dull thunk, thunk, thunk of missiles pushing out of their pods before racing off to their intended targets, then the mechanical whirring as the pods rotated to be reloaded by slaves in the lower decks. I was regaining my bearings as the many horrible sensations of being overwhelmed by radiation poisoning were beginning to subside, but I still felt as if I had been microwaved. The air was stale, the crew was horribly sick as well, and even the sovereign himself seemed to be on his last leg. I was beginning to believe that I might die here.
“Sovereign, a message from the lower decks,” shouted a communications officer, his chitin scraping against itself as he turned quickly, “they're requesting reinforcements, something about being overrun.”
“Impossible,” the Sovereign hissed out in a vain attempt to exude confidence, “We must outnumber the humans, they always go for bigger targets out of arrogance.”
“I've received reports that it's not just humans: the primates seem to make up only a third or so of the assailing force, along with some Phaeldaer and Vrex.”
The commander slammed his clawed hands down on his own output array in a fit of rage, obviously overwhelmed by the circumstances, “Then this wasn't just a typical assault, but something more sinister!” The nautiloid warbled, blood seeping from his shell as the full effects of the radiation took hold, “Get Rel’ads on the line, have him divert all spare lances to the lower decks or else we'll lose the only offensive capabilities we can use.”
“Rel'ads has gone dark, Sovereign, his vitals are critical.”
“Then either get me Rel'ads tail-leader or get me Noddos!” He screamed in rage, “don't give me this nonsense! If we don't pick it up we're all going to die, is that what you want?”
“No, Sovereign, I'm simply overwhelmed-”
“We're all overwhelmed! By the tides, I'm dying of radiation poisoning you nincompoop! Get me something I can work with!”
The officer didn't even acknowledge the Sovereign after that, simply turning back to his display. Eventually, the Sovereign was able to get Noddos on the line.
“Sovereign, two thirds of my phalanxes have been decimated by combat with the primitives and the radiation, the rest are in shambles. We must retreat and fortify elsewhere!”
“Then the ship is compromised! Rel'ads is unresponsive and the lower decks are swarming with intruders. We must evacuate the amanuensis to another ship.”
Just as the Sovereign spoke, I heard several gentle thumps rattle against the bridge’s door, and it made me uneasy. Some of the bridge crew seemed to feel the same, as they looked incredibly nervous and some even drew their sidearms. Just as the sovereign turned to give further orders, the door blew inward with a deafening explosion, followed by shouting and gunfire. Several of the bridge officers were dispatched quickly, brain matter and blood splattering against the delicate electronics. Others were shot in the legs, the torso, or in any other exotic yet non-vital body parts. The humans poured in, brandishing primitive ballistic firearms and jury-rigged energy weapons while wearing scavenged, legion-grade powered armor.
The Sovereign was the next to go, but he wasn't afforded an honorable death. He was shot along the arm with a particularly potent plasma caster, burning off his clawed hand and cauterizing the wound, the acrid smell of roasting chitin filling the already hot and cramped bridge. He fell back against his output array, the gallium reaching new highs and lows as more diagnostics and casualty reports were delivered, and he clutched his stump angrily. “I'll burn every last one of you in the foundries! I'll tie you to stakes, cover you in wax and set you alight! Your screams will be broadcasted all over the galaxy!”
One human warrior stomped up and slammed the butt of his rifle into the sovereign’s face, shattering his facial plates and causing blue blood to splatter across his section of the bridge. “Shut the fuck up, you mutant lobster,” the human said before dragging him by both antennae towards the center of the bridge and receiving a stained breeching axe from one of his comrades. “Emmanuel, start recording. We need proof.”
The other human nodded and pressed a button on his armor before lifting up his gun again. The rest of the humans fanned out, holding everyone else at gunpoint. I tried to get up and sneak out, but a human grabbed me by my neck and nearly wrung it out as he forced me to my knees and pointed a sidearm to my skull. “Get down, you piece of shit, before I blow your brains out too.”
“Damnable primate,” I hissed, but he bashed me in my skull with the base of his sidearm’s grip and sent me sprawling, making my already pounding headache worse. Another human shouted at him in a language I didn't recognize, but he sounded furious. The first brought me back up to my knees again, and I complies with a hiss and a groan, blood still leaking from my eyes and mouth and my world was spinning.
The Sovereign struggled, but he was weak from the radiation poisoning and he couldn't exactly resist on account of his lost arm. The human with the breaching ax kicked the Sovereign down and forced him to kneel before lifting up the breeching ax and splitting his chitinous head down the middle with one powerful swing, sending more blood and brains across the floor. “Execution confirmed, take his antennae just in case and we've got ourselves a bounty. Now all we need is that ugly cat’s teeth and the fat hedgehog-thing’s grimy spines and we'll be in business. Although, they do have skulls… we might as well just take their heads.”
The real horror of the situation dawned on me at that moment: they were going to kill us all, or maybe worse. They mentioned a bounty for the commanders, and multiple of the higher ranking ship officers were already dead, their brains splattered against the walls or their bodies torn apart by gunfire. I wasn't dead yet, but that didn't mean much since I wasn't an immediate threat.
“Alright, round them up and bring all the grunts to the hanger bay, then kill the rest,” the leader of the humans said in such a lackadaisical manner that his complete disregard for life almost made me sick… almost. I had seen worse from the Jurisdiction before, but usually that was from me delivering some kind of ordered judgment on a world that had sinned against order. I might have simply been the messenger, but I had seen many of the outcomes. “And make sure to collect whatever proof of bounties you can, we'll need to deliver them to the office to get cashed out. Don't let this be a repeat of last time where Juarez fucking forgot to take a few heads and it ended up cutting our profits in half, the fucking retard.”
Some of the humans chuckled at that as they dragged more of the senior officers away, out of the room and into the hall,where I heard gunshots. The rest of the bridge crew froze in place, different fear instincts kicking in. The remaining Sok'klar corralled together into what seemed to be a singular, semi-congealed mass as if to try and trick the humans into believing that they were much bigger and much more threatening than they actually were. The one Thei’chi on the bridge, an ensign who had clearly thought this would be a simple mission, bore her curved fangs at the humans and growled as they approached, her hackles completely vertical and her eyes dilated. They quickly muzzled and bound her before beating her over the head with a gun stock, sending her sprawling onto the ground. Many others simply cooperated, eyes wide and yet simultaneously empty, as if they couldn't quite process that the ship had been taken and the commanding officers were being executed as the rest were escorted to the hangar.
“Get the damn messenger down to the hanger as well, we need whatever data's in his ugly lizard head, then we can decide on what to do with him.”
I spat at him in spite, as if to try and seem brave, but it was clearly an empty gesture. “You won't get anything, primate! You couldn't possibly crack the encryption!”
The human holding me seemed to wind up for another swing, but the commanding officer simply held up his hand to stop my tormentor before strolling over to me. He knelt down and removed his helmet, revealing a beige-colored face covered in scars, wiry black hair cut down to the scalp, and multiple tattoos. “You're really fucking mouthy for a hostage,” he said before punching me across my beak faster than I could register. I heard a sharp crack as his fist connected, and my head spun again as the metallic taste of blood pooled into my mouth. “I'd advise you to shut up, but I'm sure you won't listen: you aristocratic types are so full of yourselves. Maybe I should have you flogged in the public square until your vocal chords give out once we rip those cybernetics from your head, huh? How's that sound?”
“It won't matter… it won't change anything… the Jurisdiction will hunt you down.”
“Maybe, but I doubt it will happen for some time: they really suck at doing anything that requires effort, even when they're mad enough. They just keep sending their rabid lapdogs to try and smoke us out, and they always end up full of holes,” the human officer said with a smirk, his yellowish-white teeth and green eyes sending shivers down my spine as he drew his knife. “They're just horrible at their job, you know? You've all gotten so lazy and incompetent after being able to just take what you want without resistance, and now that you've met people who are angry and crazy enough to fight back you act as if we're committing some grave injustice,” he placed the knife against my throat, the flat just underneath my now bent beak, “No, we just took a few pages out of your book, ‘cept we've got standards. No kids, for one…” he seemed to look off into the distance as his sneer deepened, “but it's more than that, we don't attack the defenseless in general and we still win against you all in fair fights.”
I went to say something else snarky, but he quickly grabbed my thin tongue with his fingers and yanked it out, blood from my mouth pulling to the floor as he held the blade of his knife against it. “No no, none of that. Say one more thing and I'll cut that rancid little tongue of yours out of your mouth and feed it to you,” he hissed at me, pressing the blade down just hard enough to draw blood. “Do you know what it's like to see a planet turn into a tomb?" he asked me, gritting his teeth, “Do you know what it's like to see everything you've ever known crumble to ash and glass, all the life and the green stripped away leaving nothing but bones? I do. I've seen it happen to countless worlds, and my grandfather always told me stories of how you bastards did it to Earth. He still prays in its direction five times a day, to Mecca, but he knows the Kaaba is gone now, or maybe it's still there, buried in the bones of those who sought refuge there.”
I didn't care for the human’s nonsensical beliefs, but I did care to correct him. “I've seen it before, and I'll see it again. And so will you, it's inevitable. The Jurisdiction will always have its judgment fulfilled, there is no alternative.”
“One day, I hope we can rectify that,” he said, then he sheathed his knife and slammed my head against the metal floor with enough force to nearly knock me out. As I lost consciousness, I could hear him speak. “Take him to the Chop Doc, and make sure the cybernetics don't get damaged: they're supposedly more valuable than any bounty on this ship.”
Warning: Severe radiation poisoning detected. Flush system immediately.
Warning: Neural Lace removal detected, chance of neurological damage high. Proceeded with caution.

I met Luna on a train two years ago. I’d just escaped from a toxic relationship, so romance was the last thing on my mind, but then she sat across from me in the carriage and asked about the book I was reading. She had a copy in her bag and wanted to know if it was any good.
I'd never felt such an instant, effortless connection with anybody before. I took a chance and asked her to dinner, and by the time the waiters cleared away our desserts, I already felt comfortable being vulnerable around her. So we went on a second date. And a third. And next thing I knew, we were planning our second anniversary.
In all that time she never gave off any 'creeper' vibes. Until a few months ago, when I stayed the night over at her place...
She'd gotten up early to use the bathroom. I grabbed her laptop off the side desk so I could catch up on some work e-mails, and the incognito tab was just sitting there. My first thought was: either she's having an affair or she's got a secret fetish.
What I found instead was a Google account with a photo album called ‘Michael’s EX’. In it, there were 427 photos of my former girlfriend turned psycho stalker, Sadie. This included shots of ‘Sadie the stalker’ with her family, screenshots of her passport—the works. On Facebook, Sadie's latest post said Moving to the Philippines, and since then she’d become a social media church mouse, so how did Luna keep her under surveillance? And how did you even get PERSONAL ID from a person halfway across the globe?
Down the hall, I heard the bathroom door swing open. Quickly I closed the laptop and pretended to be asleep until Luna planted a kiss on my lips. “Wakey wakey Bugs.”
I faked a stretch. “Morning Lola."
(At school, the other kids christened me ‘Bugs’ because of my cartoonishly large front teeth; I called Luna ‘Lola’ because of her blonde bangs and heart-shaped face.)
“How about we grab a fry for breakfast?” Her smile didn’t seem genuine, more like she was wearing a mask.
“Crap. I forgot I’m doing overtime today, I’ve gotta get to work.” With that, I shot out of there faster than a bullet train to Tokyo.
Because I didn’t wanna believe the worst about someone I cared so deeply about, I didn’t contact the police (not that anybody could’ve guessed what Luna was up to) and made excuses whenever she asked to meet, delaying the decision whether to end our relationship.
At night, I couldn’t sleep. Every time a hedge rustled outside, I’d run to the window and pull back the curtain only to discover a black cat skulking around the garden. I put this down to my previous relationship leaving me with a mountain of unresolved PTSD.
Sadie the stalker also seemed normal until we moved in together. After that she started picking fights if she caught me talking to another woman, even just distant relatives or childhood friends. The screaming matches went from weekly to nightly, only ever ending when I conceded to her every wish and gave her full access to my phone and social media accounts. I literally needed to grab my clothes into a bag and run away one night, and then I started hearing noises outside my new apartment. And although I never found any evidence, I was pretty sure she’d broken in at one point because the books on my side table were suddenly out of order one day. What hurt the most was Luna knew all this and still acted the way she did.
Right as I reached my lowest point, my close friend Gertrude called and said, “The universe is telling me you could use a sympathetic ear.”
I told her the universe didn’t know the half of it.
I’d met Gertrude—aka my surrogate mother—on a flight to London. Passing over Wales the aircraft hit heavy turbulence, and the grey-haired hippie in the seat next to mine squeezed my hand so tight that my fingers turned blue. After we levelled off, she apologized and said, “So what’s calling you to London?”
“A job.”
A few glasses of wine from the service trolley later, she blurted out, “You know your aura is strikingly similar to my husbands.”
“Uhh, thanks. Where is he now?”
“Oh, he burned to death in a house fire.”
Gertrude’s eyes started welling up. To take her mind off the subject, I said, “I lied earlier. I’m going to London because I fell in love with a Londoner.” I pulled up pictures of Sadie (back in her pre-stalker days) on my phone. “We met in Italy. She looked flustered trying to read a map book so I offered to help. Next thing I knew, we were planning a trip to this place called Orvieto.”
“Michael, I need to know how this story ends. Gimme your number.”
Since then, we’d met two or three times a year.
I laid the whole mess out over pizza. It was the first time since finding the Google account I didn’t feel hidden eyes crawling all over me.
Just as I wrapped up the story, over in the corner booth, a family burst into a chorus of happy birthday. A waiter appeared carrying a chocolate cake, capped by a giant candle that looked more like a flare. Gertrude tensed up.
“So what do you think about all this?” I asked.
She looked back at me and said, “It’s possible your reaction has been a touch on the dramatic side.”
“DRAMATIC??”
“Well consider things from Luna’s point of view. Your last relationship lasted for, what, three years? Maybe she felt threatened.”
“I don’t believe this.” I grabbed a cigarette from my pocket, but Gertrude snatched it away.
“You know how I feel about you poisoning your lungs, Michael.”
“Don’t you start. I got enough of that crap from Luna.”
Gertrude always encouraged me to work through my romantic problems. Ultimately, I decided her love of fairytale romances clouded her judgement and ghosted Luna instead. But I couldn’t escape her shadow. She always felt close. In fact, it got so bad that at a friend’s costume party several weeks later, my eyes kept compulsively scanning the crowd as if she was there in disguise, ready to pounce.
I stood off to the corner until, over the sea of heads, I spotted a beautiful stranger dressed as Jarlath the Goblin King. I took a shot of liquid courage and made a B-line towards her.
Halfway across the crowded room, beer splashed across the front of my Ziggy Stardust outfit.
“I am so sorry,” a female pirate said, patting me dry.
“Don’t worry about it.” Every time I tried circling her, she moved to cut me off.
“I am such a klutz. Why don’t you come into the kitchen so I can clean up this mess?”
I put my hands on her shoulders and steered her out of the way. “It’s fine. Trust me.”
Approaching Jarlath from behind, heart slamming against my chest, I said, “Well this is awkward. One of us is gonna have to change.”
Jennie had bright blue eyes and dimples impossible to miss. Ten minutes into our debate about David Bowie’s greatest album, I said, “You know Absolute Bowie are playing the Half Moon next week. I could take you?”
“Sorry. I’m going with my boyfriend,” she said with a sympathetic smile. From beside the buffet table, the pirate stared daggers in our direction.
“No worries,” I replied, despite the fact I was brimming with jealousy.
The next day, as I jogged off my hangover, a brown-haired lady cut across my path and we both went spinning to the ground.
“Flip, sorry.” I rushed to pull her up by the hands. “I’m like a bloody zombie lately.”
She did a doubletake. “Ziggy, right?”
There was no mistaking those eyes. “Jarlath?”
“Well, Jarlath or Jennie. Eithers fine.”
“Right. Well, sorry again. Enjoy Absolute Bowie.”
Before I could jog away, she said, “Hey, so that guy I was seeing? Turns out he’s a total prick.”
Jennie and I went for coffee. Coffee morphed into drinks. Drinks morphed into a steamy make-out session on my sofa.
But as she covered my neck in soft kisses, my stomach turned. It felt like cheating. So, I put the brakes on things and said, “I can’t do this. I’m really sorry. You’re amazing, but I just got out of a serious relationship…and…it’s just…”
“Hey, don’t worry about it.”
We agreed we’d let our connection blossom in its own time.
Jennie had a playful mystique to her. Within a handful of dates, we’d developed inside jokes and could tell what the other was thinking. But Luna’s imprint was hard to shake, to the extent I almost mixed up the two ladies’ names multiple times.
To detox, I suggested Jennie and I spend a romantic weekend in the Lake District, because after two days of hiking and kayaking my ex would no doubt be a spec in the rearview mirror.
Hours before we set off, however, Luna’s mom called. She wanted to meet and wouldn’t accept any excuses.
“Look, it’s obvious why I’m here,” she said, sitting across from me in Starbucks. “Ever since you and Luna broke up, she’s been acting…different.”
“Different? Different how?”
“I call but she hardly answers. I go over to her place but she’s never there. Now she’s telling me she needs to find herself. Says she’s moving to Australia.”
Her fingers tightened around her cup. “I need to know what happened between you two. And I don’t care if that paints anybody in a bad light. I’m just worried about my daughter is all.”
I told her about the Google account.
“Did you confront her about it?”
“Hell no. I ghosted that crazy bitc—” I cleared my throat. “I mean, I just…stopped seeing her.”
She started crying so loudly customers at nearby tables paused their conversations. I touched her forearm, promised I’d call if I remembered anything else, then set off for my romantic weekend.
But while Jennie and I enjoyed all that fresh air and pub food, a thought nagged at me. Luna adored London, so why move to Australia? It seemed so out of character. Back at our rented cottage, I was so fixated on the thought I needed a smoke, badly.
“What the hell is that?” Jennie demanded, as she stepped onto the front deck.
I glanced at my hands. “Uhh, a cigarette.”
“Michael! Don’t be sarcastic. You know how I feel about those things.”
“…Do I?”
“Uhh, well it’s the same as anybody else. Quit poisoning your lungs and put that thing out.”
“Alright alright, geeze. Sorry Luna.”
“That’s okay.”
A knot formed in my stomach as she went back inside. I’d called Jennie Luna by mistake. And she hadn’t noticed. In fact, her reaction to me smoking was identical to Luna’s—even the snappy way she said the ‘poison your lungs’ line.
I followed Jennie into the lounge, where she’d curled up on an armchair with a Colleen Hoover novel. She was hiding something. What else did she know about Luna? Maybe I could trick her into revealing some details…
From behind, I started massaging her shoulders. “Sorry for being rude before. I know what you said came from a place of love.”
“That’s okay.”
I waited until her eyes drooped shut, then said, “It really is perfect here, huh? Maybe we should stay forever.”
“Wouldn’t that be amazing?”
Her little groans of pleasure, the rhythm of her breathing, it all felt so familiar. I waited until the tension in her neck dissolved, then I pushed my lips against her ear and whispered, “So how about we take this into the bedroom…Lola.”
“Hmm. Sure thing Bugs.”
My hands froze. Jennie jumped up. “Uhh, that felt so good, why’d you stop?”
“What did you just say?”
“What did you just say?”
“I called you Lola,” I replied, my arms frozen in midair. “And you called me bugs.”
“Like the cartoon, right? I thought it’d be a cute nickname. Anyway, I’m tuckered out.” She forced a yawn. “Why don’t we get some sleep?”
As her hand laced with mine, an image of me waking up drugged and gagged and tied to the bedposts flashed before my eyes.
I said, “Sure. I just…need to use the bathroom first.”
The second the door shut behind me, I flew out of the house, climbed in my car, and sped away.
Within seconds my phone started blowing up with calls, followed by texts. Where are you going? Is everything okay?
No, I wanted to reply. I’m onto your sick little game. Whatever it is, I’m onto it.
Luna stalked my stalker, now Jennie somehow knew Luna and I’s nicknames. How? Did all women take turns drawing straws and whoever picked the short one needed to become my girlfriend?
I couldn’t go home. For all I knew, my exes would’ve been there burning effigies of me. I needed a safe place. Somewhere I could lie low until I got all this straightened out.
“Of course you can stay,” Gertrude said over the phone. “I’m out with some friends, but I’ll meet you later. If you hop the side gate there’s a spare key under the kissing gnomes out back.”
Gertrude lived in a detached house in Wembley. It took a bit of foraging to find the gnomes hidden beneath the weeds in the brown, patchy garden.
I needed to shoulder the door open. Inside, a mountain of letters and flyers had piled up on the welcome mat.
Down the hall, a huge archway connected the landing with a lounge, where a bar sat against the far wall, surrounded by upholstered sofas, a low table, and tie dye sheets strung over the filthy carpet. Everything had a real elegant vibe, despite the musty air.
I’d drained two glasses of whiskey before Gertrude arrived.
“Looks like you’ve had a rough evening.”
I said we could talk in the morning.
“Not a chance. You can’t take negative energy to bed. Come on, confession is good for the soul.”
She sat on the sofa and patted the empty seat next to her. So, with a weary sigh, I shared a tale of deranged exes.
“Crazy,” she said.
“I sure can pick ‘em, huh?”
“No, I mean you’re crazy.”
“What?”
“Think about it. What’s more likely: that your ex’s are secretly in collusion, or you’re being paranoid? Look how bloodshot your eyes are. When’s the last time you got a good night’s rest?”
She made a great point; teenagers on the street occasionally shouted ‘Bugs’ or ‘Thumper’ at me. Jennie might’ve come up with the nickname herself. I pinched the bridge of my nose, groaning.
“Look, sleep here tonight. Tomorrow we’ll brainstorm ways you can make it up to Jennie.”
I fumbled through my pockets for a cigarette.
“Really?” Gertrude said. “If you insist on poisoning your lungs, can you at least do it away from my home?”
“Well if I can’t smoke, I’m gonna need a refill.” I shook my empty glass.
On my way toward the bar, a wave of wooziness hit me. My first instinct was to blame it on the alcohol, but there was something else.
It was her reaction to the cigarette. My finger ran through the thick layer of dust along the bar’s countertop. Why was it like the place had been abandoned? Why did Gertrude always pressure me to stay with my psycho girlfriends? And how come she always reached out, as if on cue, whenever my relationships hit problems? It couldn’t be coincidence…
I poured two glasses of whiskey and carried them to the sofa. “So, you’re really against the whole smoking thing, huh?”
“Of course. It’s a filthy habit.”
“Yeah. Plus, there was that mess with your husband. House fire, right?”
“I’d rather not discuss it.”
“Sure, sure.” I ignited the lighter with a roll across my trouser leg.
Gertrude grabbed a cushion and hugged it. “What are you doing?”
“Alright, cut the crap. What the hell’s going on? Have you been sending your friends to date me?”
“What are you talking about?”
I wrestled the cushion from her and held the lighter beneath it. “I want an explanation right now or I’m torching this place.”
This was an empty threat. I wasn’t some pyromaniac—I just wanted answers. Inch by inch, I raised the flame. “Last chance. Why are the women in my life acting weird?”
Gertrude grabbed for the lighter. As I swatted her wrists away, we both got scorched, and for a moment her skin went wild with spasms, a sensation I can only compare to reaching inside a bucket of wet, writhing maggots. My gaze whipped between her face and her hands, which vibrated like plucked guitar strings.
Before I could scream, she yanked me up, clamped a cold, wrinkled palm across my mouth, and forced me against the wall. I thrashed around, unable to move. For a lady old enough to collect a pension, she was crazy strong.
She waited until I ran out of breath, then said, “Michael, please. I’m not going to hurt you. Open your heart and listen.”
What else could I do?
“You were right before. I have been keeping a secret from you. The truth is, I’ve been in love with you since we met. I’d never flown before. And you were so so sweet. You started talking about this other woman, but I knew our energies were perfect for each other. And it’s like I always say, love makes us do crazy things. You can’t begrudge me that can you?”
She looked as if she expected me to respond, so I shook my head.
“But I think we’ve reached a point where our connection is so deep we can be completely transparent with one another.” She took a slow, steady breath. “Michael, all your ex’s, Luna, Sadie, Jennie. They’ve all been…well, me.”
I stared at her, confused.
She sighed. “It’ll be easier if I just show you.”
Out of nowhere her hand wriggled again, then her face tightened, as though the skin was being stretched over the bone. Wrinkles smoothed out and colour bled into her grey hair, turning it brown, and within seconds I found myself face-to-face with Jennie. Even her vintage clothes morphed into a green blouse and white slacks.
“See?” she said in Jennie’s voice, her now blue eyes locked on mine.
I screamed into the soft flesh of her palm.
“Sssh, it’s okay. I’m not gonna hurt you. Watch.”
Her entire body jerked and twitched, the muscles spasming as she shifted from Jennie to Luna. “See? Think of these as costumes”—from Luna to Sadie—"the important thing is what’s underneath. And you’ve fallen in love with what’s underneath three times. Now I’m going to let go, but I need you to promise you won’t overreact. Understand?”
On the verge of a panic attack, I nodded furiously.
The second she pulled away I made a break for the exit. The thing posing as Sadie grabbed me and hurled me backwards against the wall.
Like a disappointed teacher, she put her hands on her hips. “I’ve been so patient with you, Michael. So very, very patient.”
She blocked off any hope of escape. I sidestepped around the outer edge of the room, towards the bar.
“All those years moulding you. Trying to grow you into the man I know you can be. I really thought we had it this time. For the record, I wanted to do this the easy way. But drastic times...”
I was so scared I slammed right into the cabinet and yelped. Glass bottles chattered together, and then something wet ran down the back of my shirt. It was whiskey, leaking from the overturned bottle onto the carpeted floor.
Speaking more to herself now, Gertrude said, “I’ll just have to keep you here until you love me as much as I love you. Of course, that means posing as you so nobody gets suspicious, but that’s no trouble. I’ll tell your dad you’re moving to Italy. You always loved Italy.”
Pose as me? She'd been killing my ex's and taking their place, I was just the latest in a long line. She’d keep me as a personal sugar baby if I didn’t escape, but how? She was impossibly strong, and the only thing that seemed to scare her was…
Snatching the bottle, I doused the remaining whiskey all over the carpet and furniture. As I flicked the lighter open, Sadie’s hands shot up.
“Bugs…darling…what are you doing?”
I took three slow, steady breaths. “Breaking up with you, you crazy bitch.”
I tossed the lighter forward. Within seconds flames sprung up all around us, spreading as far as the sofa. Sadie’s shoe caught fire, and as she stamped around, unintentionally fanning the blaze, her body writhed again, starting with the ankles. Fat boils climbed up every inch of exposed skin, milky white and with the consistency of frog spawn, like she’d had a killer allergic reaction to poison ivy.
She dropped to her knees, wailing like a wounded animal. This was my chance.
I made a break for the exit, giving the creature as wide a berth as possible. But as I got one foot planted in the hall something clamped tight around my ankles. My chin hit the floor, then I started sliding backwards.
I twisted onto my back. Where Sadie’s left arm should’ve been, a tentacle-like appendage stretched across the length of the room, a distance of over twenty feet. It reeled me toward her like a fish on a line. Whatever that thing was no longer looked human. It melted like an ice statue, with no bones or connective tissue inside, its lips nose and mouth becoming hideously elongated before dripping off in huge globs like melted candlewax. A fire alarm started wailing as the tentacle dragged me through the flames, scorching my arms and legs.
The loose mass of skin reached out and encased me like a mother bird sheltering its eggs.
“WHY WON’T YOU LOVE ME?” all my ex’s voices screamed at once. Whichever direction I looked, silhouettes of faces rose and fell, as if trying to burst through. Parts of them dripped inside my mouth, disgustingly warm with a bitter taste worse than Vaseline.
I put everything into clawing my way out if there. What was left of the beast had the consistency of wet clay and came apart just as easily. I tore away chunks until there was a hole large enough to squeeze through. Then, I crawled along surrounded by black smoke.
At the far side of the room I risked a glance back and saw a bumpy, uneven hand reaching out of a puddle of ooze. Soon I was crawling over the bristly welcome mat, then fumbling for the door. All I remember after that are paramedics wrestling me into an ambulance…
A specialist officer came to see me at the hospital the next morning. They’d been unable to contact the homeowner, Gertrude Huyton, and through his line of questioning I could tell they hadn’t found her ‘remains’ inside the charred house. Like the wicked witch of the West, my stalker had melted. I told the officer she said I could stay the night, and that I probably started the fire by dropping a cigarette.
“In that case, we’ll keep trying to reach her.” He walked to the curtain surronding my bed and paused. “Oh, and I almost forgot to mention, her cat is missing.”
“Her...cat?”
“Yeah. The little black one. One of the firemen pulled it out of the wreckage. The poor thing had burns over its legs but it ran off before anybody could take it to the vet.”
I swallowed a gulp and thanked him for telling me.
And now I’m still sitting here listening while nurses rush back and forth, terrified any one of them might be Gertrude…

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Hi everyone,
TL;DR: is it worth to register at the commune for a short term job contract of 6 months? Consider temporary accommodation, process for change in addresses whilst waiting for confirmation of registration, health insurance when having EHIC, mobile number usage.
I'm a EU citizen living in NL and there's a strong possibility in having to move ASAP to Brussels due to a job opportunity. The contract will be of 6 months ad interim and eventually no possibility to continue at the company or wait for a new position to open/vacate for me. My intention is to move permanently to Brussels as I'd like to continue to work in my area, but I don't want to commit to a rental contract of 3 years without knowing how's it going to be in 6 months. I'd like some advise on which choice to make as having the national registry number unblocks all the other stuff that I need to tend to: eID, health insurance; bank account; istme identification, etc
I read a bunch of posts regarding this, and did my Google research.
Considering my 6 month timeline, I'm still not sure regarding:

1. ~Temporary accommodation~:
   1. Is it enough to put a temporary address in a job contract and to register at the commune? I don't have other possibilities - friend's address, for instance - to do this and I'm not sure if my company will help me with this.
   2. Does the company need a registered address to have it on a job contract?
      1. Can it be from a temporary accommodation address?
   3. Do temporary/serviced apartments, in general, allow you to register?
   4. Would you advise on having temporary accommodation for the duration of the contract or after 2/3 months for a more permanent type? The savings/cost side is significant if comparing both, and I don't have much money available to afford a €1500 apartment for 6 months and eat up 50/60% of my income.
2. If I ~change addresses~ - let's assume to a different commune - while I'm waiting for the commune registration to be complete - which can take several months according to some posts here and sometimes over my 6 month stay in Brussels -:
   1. Will it stop the process and would it be necessary to start another process in the new commune? I'm also considering the Police check for this.
   2. Also: do I need to register at the exact commune or does it have a central service like BruCity via MyBXL enough for any municipality?
3. ~Health insurance~: as I have a European Health Insurance Card (EHIC), do I need to register with a mutualité?
   1. Company offers complementary private insurances.
4. ~Mobile number~: is it worth to have a BE number when I can use my NL one?

Really appreciate your input on this for a more informed decision. Let me know if there are other things to consider based on this scenario.

About 2 weeks ago my dad (90) was taken into the hospital (which is a whole tale by itself) with a blood glucose of 500. He had been living by himself with little to no help except me (43) nearby.
He was kept for a week and that whole week it was a constant stream of begging for a lawyer, telling anyone he could that his constitutional rights were being violated, and how could I allow them to do this to him. They had to unplug his phone because he kept calling 911 and he threw a fit and pushed some staff (not to hurt, just to get in trouble) to try to get arrested so he would get a lawyer then got mad when hospital security came (which he called the gestapo).
Every day, I asked about a capacity assessment, they never did one but up and down the documents it says that he does not have capacity to make medical decisions at this time. Diagnosis was metabolic encephalopathy, which I had never heard of, but okay. He has refused to take metformin or lisinopril in the 2 months I've been getting involved in his medical care. "Dementia" was not mentioned one time in his hospital records.
We knew in home care wasn't going to be an option (another separate tale which I may already have posted about). We had been checking out a few ALFs in the weeks prior so I picked one and we moved him in. I took him myself to get him there the quickest. Things were a little rough because he had some GI issues.
He called me that night with the nurses in the room trying to get him to take his medication (the above and Seroquel, which he had been taking in the hospital). In desperation, I told him I would not come the next day if he didn't take it. He was not pleased but he took it.
The next day I was told as soon as I came in that he refused again this morning. We had a whole talk about it and he was adamant and then he getting wild and said he was leaving. I told him, I'm so sorry dad but you cant leave on your own. Oh my god. What a mess.... He pushed me out of the way and stormed down the hall looking for exits it was a whole thing. I was not helping and the staff member we were working with told me it was okay to go. About an hour later they called and said they had to call 911. He was getting physical (he isn't fat, but hes on the taller end and REALLY strong) and could not be redirected. He urinated on himself then dropped his pants and defecated on the patio.
So less than 24 hours after leaving he was right back in the hospital. This time they said they had diagnosed him as having dementia (lie), but also that even if he doesn't have capacity that he can't be forced to memory care (they even consulted the hospital ethics department). He is adamant that he does not want to go anywhere he isn't "free" but when I try to talk through what going home looks like he shuts down. I contacted Dad's lawyer and he said "this is bizarre" -- There's an AMD and we just need the capacity letters from the doctors to have it enacted otherwise any person with dementia can just say they don't feel like doing XYZ.
There's also an interloper involved that may have good intentions but is not helping. The hospital was going to release him to her 24/7 care. I don't even know this person, I've talked to her once on the phone and she's only gotten the version that my dad is giving her (he doesnt remember either of the events that relates to how he got to the hospital). The geriatric doctor that came in told me she has never said this but she has never been so uncomfortable with someone being in the room. Dad referred to this person as his fiancee to nurses yesterday morning, but when I asked him in the afternoon he said it was completely platonic but due to much restraint on his part.
(In home care isn't an option, over the last 6 months we have had at least 20 caregivers. Most don't last the day, maybe 3 have lasted more than one day. He becomes sexually inappropriate or propositions them or gets curious if they do things he doesn't want them to do or does them incorrectly in his opinion.)
I have never been so tired.

Hey everyone,
I'm facing a significant issue. Despite applying to numerous internships and ensuring that I upload my CV and cover letter, both of which are supported with GitHub project links and my LinkedIn profile, I often receive no responses. When I do hear back, it's typically a rejection message like this: "Thank you for your interest in XCompany. We've reviewed your application and, unfortunately, we have decided not to move forward with your application at this time. We appreciate your time and will be sure to keep you updated regarding any future opportunities that may be a good fit."
I don't understand what the exact problem is. I make sure my CV passes the ATS checker and aligns with the job requirements. If internships are this competitive, what should I expect when applying for actual jobs?
P.S. A quick question: Do you apply with the same CV for each position (in my case, as a .NET developer), or do you customize it to match each job description?

Northern Ireland Secretary Chris Heaton-Harris has said he will not be standing at the next general election.
The Tory MP said on X, formerly Twitter, it had been an "honour and a privilege to serve" and passed on his thanks to his constituents in Daventry.
Mr Heaton-Harris has been the Northern Ireland secretary since September 2022, describing it as the "best job in the Cabinet".
He announced his intention in a letter to Prime Minister Rishi Sunak.
Mr Heaton-Harris was first elected as an MP in 2010. He was appointed Tory chief whip in 2022 by Boris Johnson.
Later that year, Liz Truss appointed him as secretary of state for Northern Ireland, a role he retained when Mr Sunak became prime minister.
At the time, the Stormont power-sharing institutions had collapsed due to a Democratic Unionist Party (DUP) protest against post-Brexit trading arrangements.
Much of his time in Northern Ireland was spent negotiating with parties in efforts to restore the assembly and executive.
In his letter to Mr Sunak, published on X on Saturday night, Mr Heaton-Harris said: "Working with you I helped negotiate and deliver the Windsor Framework, which both solved many of the major practical issues created by the Northern Ireland Protocol, put in place as we left the EU, and helped reset our countries' relationship with our European neighbours.
"Then, after long and detailed negotiations within Northern Ireland, we produced the command paper Safeguarding the Union , externalwhich resulted in the return of Stormont and devolved government to serve the people of Northern Ireland."
Mr Heaton-Harris added: "I strongly believe the conditions now exist for Northern Ireland to thrive".
Mr Heaton-Harris, who has been an MP for 14 years, said Northern Ireland had "privileged access for manufactured goods into the EU single market, whilst being an integral part of our UK internal market"
"It finds itself in a remarkable favourable position," he added.
He added that he wanted to remain as Northern Ireland secretary until the next election as "there are still a number of pieces of unfinished business I wish to complete and I love the people, place and job".
https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-northern-ireland-69032420

“What defines virtue and how are we to gauge it? An inquiry that reverberates through epochs, its answer as fickle and capricious as the fates of those who deem to ask it. Duty, honor, justice - many over the ages would name these virtues, the conduits through which noble intentions find expression. Yet, as the battlefield of beliefs unfolds, a legion emerges, each as sworn to these principles as to obliterating all who would dare stake alike claim. Thus, battles rage and wars are waged and, in the end, those who are left are no more right than those fell by the blade. Alas, it is the victors whose ideals are etched into monuments for posterity. Except even words chiseled in unyielding stone are fated to fade in time. So is the wicked cycle destined to repeat in all its futility, its ephemeral prize seized again, only to be lost and sought anew. Try and picture, if for but a moment, a world where our rulers paused to reflect on the lessons of yore. They, too, would discern the elixir that enables one to escape the confines of memory—the very burden our fleeting nature forbids us to carry. Progress and evolution. Adaptability and transcendence. Everlasting and yet not stagnant, irrefutable, and yet fluid, these are the only true virtues. Thus, must we ever venture into the uncharted and unfamiliar for only from these unexplored domains may the truly virtuous arise.”
Where: Discord (Video and Voice) + FoundryVTT
When: every Saturday 5 - 9/10 pm GMT+1 (CET), 11 am - 3/4 pm EST
Who: party of 4 players and a DM seeking one extra player
Updates: Recruitment updates will be posted here.
Hello there and well met! If you’ve made it past the flavor text (or skipped it) and through the basic info (hopefully didnt skip past that one) you might very well be at the right address! Without further ado onto the post.

🐲The campaign🐲

Having only just recovered from the Second Sundering and the War of the Silver Marches, the North had been ravaged by a whole new set of tumultuous events - the rise of the Cult of the Dragon and that of the Absolute, the Fall of Eltruel and the short reign of the beholder crime lord Xanathar just some among them. After a brief respite from the twisted and the unnatural the clouds once more begin to gather. Along the Long Road, whole hosts of wild beasts and monsters have been accosting travelers seemingly at random and in the grand metropolis of Waterdeep a sudden rise in crime seems to coincide with strange events passing unnoticed beneath the surface. Amidst all this, in spring of 1493 DR, a party of adventurers delves into a mystery of enchanted gemstones being utilized to nefarious ends by unknown perpetrators all the while navigating the labyrinthine twists of city faction politics.
As implied by the post title, this is an ongoing campaign (we are 12 sessions in at the time of this post). Due to some irl commitments weve recently dropped a player and are looking to replace them.
As the title suggests, this is a roleplay focused mystery/lore driven campaign. Expect an overreaching plot with ample secrets to uncover, conspiracies to unravel and eldritch truths to unearth. The first word of the password is "Doth". On the same level of importance or more important even be that the players preference, there is a variety of subplots to engage with, from small and goofy and random to ones rivaling the main story arc in complexity and variance. Among these, individual character story arcs play a leading role, at times seamlessly intertwined with the current focus of the party, at times separate and independent.
As was already mentioned and is further described below, this is a roleplay focused campaign and a roleplay heavy game. This means that roleplay exists as a unifying concept for all other aspects of the game including exploration, combat, and puzzles. That said DnD is only DnD with all three of its main pillars intact and this campaign is no exception in that regard. I very much enjoy the mechanical side of the game as well besides roleplay and so things like multiphase boss fights and custom magic items are definitely on the table.

🧙‍♂️The DM🧙‍♂️

Hello there, Jay here, 25 yo law student from Central Europe currently working on finishing his master’s degree, trying to stay afloat in the current lease market. I study and work in a law firm by day and DM or play DnD by night (more like evening but night sounded cooler). I have been a big fan of TTRPGs since my early teens and of online DnD for the past five years. I’ve DMed multiple campaigns, finished CoS not least among them and I currently play in a long-term campaign. Before you ask, yes, my schedule is strained but not to the point I am unable to engage with my hobbies.
I would describe my DMing style as driven, realistic, and involved but also very conscious about player agency and collaborative storytelling as core values that make TTRPGs so popular and unique. I spend a lot of time ensuring the worlds I create and the stories I want to tell feel alive. From hand-picked music, to fully voiced NPCs and scenic descriptions designed to breathe life into the campaign setting I daresay my games rival in quality those of the professional DMs that charge for each session.
There is a drawback to this all however. Second word of the password is "thy". I expect a lot from my players as well. Writing a story in DnD is not a one person job. It takes a collective effort of the entire group to create something truly unique, something that one can be proud while looking forward to each session. Unwinding and letting off steam means something else for everyone. For me it means losing myself in the creative process of roleplaying an NPC or describing a scene, watching my players masterfully portray their own characters or having the party derail my plans in an awesome unforeseen and unexpectedly enriching way. If you find yourself in any of what I just described than this may be a game for you. If you don’t, that’s fine. This is definitely not a game for everyone.

🏰The setting🏰

Forgotten Realms is a default setting of Dungeons and Dragons but it is anything but boring and mundane. With now decades worth of lore behind it, it offers an unparalleled opportunity for anyone wanting to build on solid foundations to bring their ideas to life. While it has garnered a lot of attention lately with the release of a certain videogame (more people now know Astarion than a good amount of Hollywood celebrities I’d say) it has had its loyal following even before then, being constantly expanded and living its own life in a host of both online and home games. It’s been a natural choice of mine for a while now and not once have I had any regrets. The third word of the password is "mirror". I feel with how great of a variety of content the Forgotten Realms offer everybody is able to pick something that suits their creative vision. In summary the Forgotten Realms almost feel like a real place with how much worldbuilding has been done with them and offer a diversity of content few other TTRPG settings can boast.
When it comes to setting of the campaign in the world of Faerun I have once again made a somewhat traditional pick and decided to place the onset of the game onto the Sword Coast, more precisely into the city of Waterdeep. If one of the key upsides of Forgotten Realms is diversity of content, Waterdeep is one of the best representations of this. Being the largest settlement on the known Faerun, Waterdeep offers nigh limitless options in terms of main story arc genre, character creation and character backstory implementation. It has everything every large TTRPG settlement ought to have (fickle upper class, enigmatic factions, quaint taverns and extravagant nightclubs, always in bad mood city watch, a castle and a harbor) as well as few pretty original ideas such as colossal definitely not alive statues, a city council where even its members don’t know each other’s identity and a massive dungeon right underneath the city where you can literally fall right from a tavern taproom.
In case you are wondering, while this campagn takes place primarily in the city of Waterdeep itself, there is nothing stopping the players from exploring past the city if they so choose. The final word of the password is "crack?". Different parts of the main plot and various subplots can and will encourage the party to explore Waterdeep environs and sometimes even further.

📃The requirements📃

No exceptions here. Unless otherwise stated, the requirements must be met at the time of application.

• to apply you need to be 20+ yo
• you need a functioning webcam (at the time of application) and a stable internet connection - we will be using both video and voice on discord and as a general rule Wifi doesn’t handle long video calls well (believe me when I say I speak from experience) so cable or other similar form of stable connection is strongly encouraged
• you need a Discord account and you will need a Forge account - Forge is a hosting service for Foundry, don’t worry, you won’t need to input any personal info (besides maybe an email) to register and I will be footing the bill
• you need a PC that can and will run Foundry Virtual Tabletop - check the minimum requirements on the Foundry website, a fair warning, Foundry won’t run on tablets and phones (not that you should consider those in the first place)
• you need at least an elementary knowledge of Dungeons and Dragons 5th edition - when it comes to the awareness of the rules, I won’t be too harsh, but definitely don’t apply if the first time you’ve seen the PHB was a week ago
• you need TTRPG/roleplay experience and/or a very strong roleplay inclination - this is a heavy roleplay game where most if not all ingame talk will be done in character and where you will be expected to voice your character in a way that is distinct from your standard voice
• you will need to be very punctual when it comes to session attendance - I expect my players to attend most if not all sessions, online or not, this campaign is a designed as a longterm commitment and by applying you are acknowledging this, having other hobbies and time-consuming real-life obligations is understandable (I got those too) but those 4-5 hours you will be expected to set aside for the session

🙋‍♂️How to sign up🙋‍♀️

Youve made it all the way to the end of this long post. Congratulations. Or maybe you’ve skipped all the way to the end. In that case I strongly recommended you go back. If not to learn what you are applying for than to make sure you haven’t missed something very important. Now if you are confident that you have what it takes and that this is a game that you could have a lot of fun with, please fill the below attached google questionnaire (if for any strange reason the link doesn’t end up working, please let me know in the comments under this post) and if fortune favors you, I shall get back to you promptly. Best of luck to you and I hope to speak to you soon!
https://forms.gle/5kc4RbwavJPfT8PD9
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PS: As a part of the questionnaire, you will be asked to submit a short piece of your narrative writing in a form of a google doc link (not a custom piece of writing, any relevant past one you have will do). Maybe best have that ready beforehand? On that note, dont apply for the game with a detailed backstory of a character you want to play that you arent willing to adapt to the conditions of the setting/campaign.
PSS: Not to discourage you but if you do make it through the questionnaire and into the second group of applicants you will be asked to do a discord interview with your webcam turned on. I am asking you to go through a lot for a game you might not even end up liking I know, but if you do end up liking it, all this effort will be well worth it as I am sure my other players would agree.

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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More misery bird? More misery bird. Really miserymaxxing with these fics I have going, but hey, this one is not that miserable actually! Krekos is back and ready to be dense and downcast, but maybe not quite miserable? Read and see!
Big thank you to NoP community for being great and supportive of my endeavors!
Also, obviously, big thanks to SpacePaladin15 for creating this universe and allowing fanfiction well to flow free!
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Memory transcription subject: Krekos, Krakotl Refugee
Date [standardized human time]: May 6th, 2137
I stare at the foul creature before me. Normally staring at something directly head on like that would be too predatory for me to do, but after nearly dying of bread yesterday, I didn’t feel patient enough to be gentle. The creature stared right back, though in a much more natural, prey-like way, tilting its head slightly as it looked back at me with one eye and let out a long bwok.
“Are you doing this now? Really?”, I ask, knowing full well it cannot respond.
Well, it can, if another bwok it made is any indication. Of course, translators aren’t yet advanced enough to translate non-sapient speech, but the intention behind sound is intuitively clear. It’s telling me to back off. Well, I tried the diplomatic approach at least.
Raising my wing I begin sliding the bird out of its nest, careful to keep any delicate joints out of its reach. It started clucking in upset indignation, struggling back and even trying to peck at me, but after realizing that I will not relent, it hopped out of the box and rushed out of the cattle house, revealing a single dead egg in the nesting box.
With relief, I finally pick up the last egg and head back to leave them at the house. Turns out that while Reginald didn’t forget to both lock them up yesterday and let them out today, he did neglect feeding them both times, as well as collecting the harvest. So when I was driven back here in early morning, the first thing I did was making sure they were taken care of. I can’t say the horrid birds looked in any way hungry, but the moment I poured the feeding grain for them, they attacked it with more viciousness than I’d expect of an actual predator. And yet only thirteen were present at the feeding, as the one that’s usually the target of flock’s ire remained in the cattle house yet again, Reginald leaving it to it, being unaware of its undesirable habit of trying to hatch dead eggs.
With eggs delivered, I flew my way to my usual spot atop the cattle house and could finally relax. The loner beast first made its way to feast on the scraps of the grain that other birds already all have had their fill of, so I wasn’t too concerned. Instead I tried to reflect on the morning I had so far.
Waking up at the hospital did make me momentarily panic before I remembered the precluding events. Not that I could properly panic, feeling the most starved I’ve been my whole life, and too weak to try flying out of the window. Thankfully, the breakfast they provided was actually well made with krakotl needs in mind, algae soup alongside a few slices of bread, this time without any horrid human ideas like putting eggs in there. Eggs! Turns out they put eggs in some kinds of bread! That’s how I got sick! Eggs! The thought of what I consumed even now made me queasy, and it definitely made breakfast a much less appetizing affair than it would have been without that knowledge, but back then the hunger won over the disgust.
Lena did keep her promise and came to pick me up extra early. Her being a staff member at the hospital gave her some extra privilege, I assume, hence why I was released without any forms needing to be filled out personally. She did have important business today too, which probably explained the earlyness and urgency of her driving me back to her house.
That did not mean I escaped her ire, however. While I couldn’t pinpoint anything to identify the man, as Bob was apparently a common name, that offered me bread, we did come to understanding that he was likely either unaware of the nutritional contents of it, or of extent to which the Cure-induced allergy would be affecting a krakotl. Yet, Lena seemed much angrier at me for failing to take any precautions. Turns out that was the purpose of medicinal injectors, epipens as humans call them, that were provided to me. I was supposed to have them on me in case I accidentally ingested contaminated food. Nobody told me that, I was just handed them back when I first received the necessities at the refugee camp and I had no clue what they were for. Then she also berated me for eating random food from strangers and ignoring bad flavors. Turns out that brioche bread isn’t actually bitter at all, and that was my body reacting to an allergen in it. Reaction that I unwisely elected to ignore, to further ire of my host. By the end, several new rules of my stay here were made, including not eating things I don’t know and always having at least one epipen on me. Thankfully, these rules would be ones I’d start following even without them being established, so I won’t have to concern myself with being kicked out over accidentally breaking them.
As if following the rules will be enough to make them like you.
Trying to distract myself from thoughts of yesterday’s incident, I focused my attention on the flock. All birds accounted for, so at least I knew that my absence did not result in the predator coming to snatch one of them. I do not wish to insult my hosts, but Reginald is far from most attentive people in matters unrelated to his job, and I am not sure the birds were watched at all while I was out. Speaking of, my scannings of surrounding treelines revealed no sign of the predator today. Perhaps it departed to hunt elsewhere, or maybe it ventured too close to a more populated area and exterminators dealt with it.
Actually, did human exterminators work similar to Federation ones? I knew for a fact they had them, although they seemed like a market of private organizations if advertisements are anything to judge by. Still, what methods do they use? I know humans oppose fire, and do not believe in predatory taint, but surely they have measures to protect themselves? They are, by self-admission, far from the best natural predator, and I doubt Earth’s non-sapient predators would just leave humans be. Maybe I should call one of those human exterminator agencies and call them in to deal with that predator? I haven’t told Lena or Reginald about it, as I didn’t want to bother them, but it could pose a serious threat to the cattle, but maybe that’s the way I could resolve it without involving them?
I have not done nearly as much research into human culture and lifestyle as I should have, considering that I’ve lived on Earth for over half a year now, but the sheer width of the topic always overwhelmed me the moment I opened internet search app to the point where I just closed it right away.
And you expect to start studying again with that attitude? You’ll flunk out even from this primitive predator education course.
Extra loud call from the flock made me refocus my attention on them, but it was nothing. Just the loner getting pecked extra hard and lashing out against assailants, causing a small aimless stampede as all the birds ran around in circles, puffing up at one another. The assailants now looked a lot more like victims. I could understand those birds more than I could humans at least. The loner bird is clearly an odd one out. It’s the only one repeatedly trying to hatch unfertilized eggs it lays, and it seems to always avoid the rest of the flock. Humans may deny the existence of Predator Disease, but they can’t deny that prey and predator both can and will sometimes behave in unnatural ways that may threaten the herd's safety. Or pack’s, in case of humans. Birds must know on instinctual level that the loner’s behavior is unnatural and are attempting to combat the Predator Disease on instinctual level. And since that is natural, I still will not interfere in this, unless the loner bird actually becomes a threat to others or will start getting too injured. The first time I attempted to pick one of the birds up was the only time for a good reason, as I have learned their viciousness all too well.
DING-DING
The sudden loud ring startled me enough that I nearly tumbled off the roof. Who would be coming over now? Lena and Reginald have left together and shouldn’t be back until afternoon, and they’d never use the bell. That means someone must be here for them. But wouldn’t they warn anyone to not come over? Especially with their plans for today.
With nobody to answer these questions, I had no choice but to go and discover the answer myself, flying up and over the house, towards the entrance gate. The moment I passed the house roof, I already saw a familiar silhouette. It was the human child from a few days ago.
Thankfully, Lena’s insistence on me carrying an epipen at all times meant I also carried my satchel at all times too, so I didn’t have to go grabbing my holopad, and took it out. But before I could even launch the translator TTS app to type out a greeting, the child was already hopping in place with excitement.
“Mr. Krekos! Hi! I came over to visit!”, she exclaimed, showing off her teeth in an unnerving expression of human joy. I simply tried to avoid that and focused on the pad, typing out my response.
“Hello, Rosie. Why are you here?”
The question was genuine, as the child was not carrying any more of that honey substance from last time.
“I just came over to visit you! Is that okay? Are Mr. and Ms. Vince okay with it?”
Visit... me? Why? While I was confused, I did instinctively type out a reply.
“They did tell me visitors are allowed as long as there’s no trouble when I first moved in.”
And before I could type a followup message asking her why she’s here, she already let out a joyous roar and ran past me.
“Can I see the chickens?”, she asked, and not waiting for an answer, rushed past the house and towards the cattle yard.
“Wait! You’ll scare them!”, I yell after her, but of course without a translator she can’t understand me as she runs like she already knows where to go.
And indeed she has, quickly rushing up to the open field where the birds were grazing. Thankfully she didn’t start chasing them, instead just approaching the flock from a distance and swaying in place, watching them with what I assume was some sort of predatory excitement at the sight of prey. Maybe that’s where the contained hunting instinct of human children showed themselves? In chasing small birds? I was still more subdued, considering she stopped shy of causing a small stampede, but still.
“Grandpa used to take me with him! He helped watch this farm until Mr. and Ms. Vince moved in. I like chickens! I think they’re cute.”, the child told me innocently as she kept swaying and watching as the beasts grazed upon insects of the pasture.
That revelation was... interesting. I suppose it makes sense that between the original owner of this land dying in the bombings and Lena and Reginald moving in, it would be unattended. With nobody to feed and watch over those things, they would be long dead for sure. And it was Rosie’s grandfather... Speaking of. I typed out my words.
“Does your grandfather know you’re here?”
She seemed to get a weird look as she stopped her excited swaying, fiddling with her hands instead. Looks like I asked the correct question.
“...he knows I am out visiting neighbors.”
That did not answer my question. I squinted at the human child, and she dipped her head as she continued.
“...he doesn’t know I’m here specifically. Or that an alien even lives here...”, she explained, her tone suddenly more sullen.
I couldn’t help but squint at that, and it appears that my expression was readable enough that even a human could see the suspicion, as she continued.
“I’m sorry... But if I told grandpa, he’d tell me I’m forbidden from talking to you, like he forbade me from talking to hedgehog people in town... But I want to talk to you! You’re nice and you’re a space bird!”
The child was actually working around the rules established by her guardian to come see me. I don’t know if I should be glad or concerned. Clearly, the man is anti-alien in his opinions, and I’d rather that kind of man not know about how close he lives to one. At the same time, I’d rather not encourage a child for lying to their guardian in order to meet a stranger they know they aren’t allowed to interact with... So I just took the middle path with my next message.
“I see. What did you want to talk to me about then?”, TTS speaks for me.
Her stiffened body language disappears, replaced again with earlier excitement.
“I wanna know more about space! And aliens! It’s all so cool but grandpa says it’s all dangerous because mom and dad died. But it’s not! The hedgehog people were nice, and you’re nice too!”
I wasn’t sure about that logic, but my self-preservation told me I shouldn’t try convincing her to go confessing. Instead I focused more on her chosen topic.
“I am not sure I am the best person to ask about space. I am not a scientist or traveler.”
“But you’re from there! You know way more than me. I don’t even know what you are called. And there’s gotta be cool things out in space!”
I let out a sigh. I suppose it’s childlike curiosity at its finest. So unfamiliar with mundane that it is a wonder. I remember being like that about becoming a doctor.
And then you let your teacher die.
I quickly tapped on the pad.
“Okay, I can answer questions, but I may not know everything.”
The noise that came out of the girl was like a squeal of a panicked dossur as she started hopping and spinning in place.
“Yes! Yes! Thank you, Mr. Krekos!” Sudden movement did cause me to recoil a bit, which in turn caused her to cease her happy flailing and adjust her little dress. “I dunno where to start though... Hm... What are you?”
...for all my trepidation about not knowing answers, I should have anticipated that the questions she asks will be rather age-appropriate and on the same level as we learn in our first school classes. At least I won’t disappoint her then.
“I am from a species called ‘krakotl’. We’re avians, as is obvious. Our home is...” dead, gone, reduced to glass and ash by our own hubris “...was Nishtal. A beautiful planet...”
Thankfully she did not question my hesitant pause. Instead she just nodded along.
“What about the hedgehog people? I already know venlil, but they’re the only ones I know name of.”
Hedgehog people in town she mentioned earlier. The only species I could think of that could be seen there would be the gojid. I have no clue what hedgehogs are, but probably some creature with visible similarity to them.
“They are called ‘gojid’, and they’re from gojid Cradle. Both of our species are... well, used to be known for our might and protecting other species of Federation.”
I am not sure if that’s something to brag about, considering... everything. But I didn’t want this child to get brought down with depressing regrets of our species. Let her know something nicer instead. She clearly lost a lot, but there’s still joy left in her. I wouldn’t want to be the one to ruin that.
“Cool! What about other people? I wanna know more!”
And so I went on, telling her about various species, although I mostly focused on ones in this new human-led union, only mentioning kolshians and farsul beyond that. It’s weird explaining to a child what a tilfish or a harchen looks like, but thankfully my holopad isn’t just a method of communicating with implant-less children. With access to interstellar web, I could easily pull up pictures of various alien species to show to her, even if she struggled to believe that some of them were even sapient purely based off of looks. With how varied species in Federation are, and how some of us admittedly aren’t too far physiologically from our more primal ancestors.
Among other topics, she asked me to tell her interesting things, which I didn’t know much of. I told her about Venlil Prime’s tidally locked status, a rarity among habitable planets, much less homeworlds for species. I told her about the unique architecture of Mileau, designed to accommodate both species of regular size and dossur themselves. I told her about Colia medical academies, some of the most beautiful medical facilities in the galaxy.
I wish I was more well-travelled, but I just wasn’t. My whole life, I never left Nishtal until the extermination fleet took me despite my protests. That may have been what saved my life...
Not that I, of all people, deserved it...
“Hey! Stop that!”
I flinched as I heard the child yell, but quickly realized that it wasn’t directed at me. Instead, Rosie was rushing down towards the chicken flock, breaking up the fight in which the loner was being pecked by a few larger chickens. As the human child approached, the birds stopped their infighting and scattered in different directions, crowing in loud panic and discontent. On instinct, I found myself rushing towards the child, forgetting about translation entirely.
“What are you doing?! Don’t touch them!”
I didn’t want her to hurt the cattle accidentally, and I didn’t want her to get hurt by the angry birds in return. But, it seems like the moment the birds scattered, she was satisfied with her actions and turned back to me, wearing another one of her happy smiles.
“Sorry, Mr. Krekos, I just saw chickens being mean. Bad chickens.” She explained.
I was baffled. Why would she interfere like that? When I tried that back when I was just starting, that got me pecked! But with her, the birds just scattered. What if they pecked her?
I took the pad out again and started typing quickly.
“That was dangerous. Why did you do that? What if they attacked you? Why are you even interfering in their natural dynamics?”, questions flowed out of my pad with an artificial human voice.
The girl simply giggled.
“They’re chickens! They aren’t dangerous. They don’t peck that painful and I’ve been scratched worse before. And I have to stop it because bullying is wrong.”
Then she actually noticed that the one that was being attacked wandered close. She casually approached it from behind, the blind spot and just reached down and grabbed it, picking the bird up. I was ready to rush to help the bird when...
“Mwah! There, all better.”
She did a human ‘kiss’ on the back of the cattle bird’s neck before releasing it, the surprise of it causing it to rush off. I knew what kisses were, I’ve seen enough of them between Lena and Reginald, but I believed they were gestures of intimate affection, not... what was even that?
It seems Rosie noticed my confusion as she explained.
“You gotta kiss it so it heals better! That’s what mom taught me.” The child displayed that smile of hers shamelessly. With how much I was being exposed to it, it almost wasn’t unnerving anymore. Still, it was interesting to learn that kisses are seen as something that helps wounds. I guess some species do have saliva with mild antiseptic properties, wouldn’t be too out there to assume humans are the same. And if that’s the case, maybe that’s how the kissing tradition started? Exchange of protective fluid between lovers?
“I see. I did not know that.” I responded before letting my puffed feathers relax. Okay, this whole ‘watching a human child’ thing is turning out to somehow be even more stressful than I expected at first.
“Wait, Mr. Krekos, what time is it?” She suddenly asked, looking up at the sky.
“It’s nearly twelve.” I respond, holopad having a convenient clock for local time.
“Oh no! I need to be home soon! Was nice seeing you Mr. Krekos gotta go bye!”
Before I had even a chance at typing out an answer or my own goodbye, the child sprinted away and back towards the entrance. I had to take flight just to keep up, and even then she just turned around, waved her arm at me and then kept sprinting down the road after leaving the gate. I simply offered a small wave of a wing back before locking the gate again. I suppose it is hard to keep track of time without a device or clock nearby...
Well, at least I had the usual peace and quiet now. And learned a bit more about the creatures I was in charge of. I should really try to deal with my aversion to looking things up on the human internet...
Just as I was about to head back out towards the yard, I heard a loud car horn, a familiar one, getting my attention. Lena’s car. There they were, signaling me, probably having spotted me at the gate from afar. Deciding to make use of my presence here, and hoping to avoid needing to explain that I had a surprise visitor earlier, I went ahead and opened the large gate, allowing the car to enter.
Once it was parked in the usual space, the doors opened and three people came out. Lena and Reginald were both looking a bit disheveled, but their faces carried these smiles that seemed wider than ever before. And third person... Was a stranger. A human I knew of, but never actually met. As he exited the car, a large bag in one hand, he just stared at me, standing in the front yard...
“...okay, I expected many things when I was told you guys housed a refugee, but not this.”
Oh no. Oh no, he was not one of the ones that was willing to overlook an invader that partook in bombing of his planet being allowed to walk free, of course, Lena and Reginald were the weird ones like that, doesn’t mean their son won’t be... I felt the panic rising as I realized I’d need to return to the camp. Why was I upset about that? This was supposed to just have been a way to make money, but now I have a free education program. Do I need to stay? No, but... Why?! Why do I not want to leave?
“Ken, you said it’s going to be alright no matter what it is, right? Wanted us to keep it a surprise to meet a new friend?” Lena’s voice. She should have told him, that’d give me time to prepare why didn’t they give me time why.
“No, no problems, just, really surprised, that’s all... uh... hey, buddy, you okay? You’re really... trembly.”
He was approaching me, and instinct took over as I recoiled, before stuttering out my answer.
“I-I’m fine...”
...thankfully translators don’t translate voice cracks. I hope, at least...
“Hey, relax... I have no problem with you being a krakotl, I just didn’t think...” He looks over at Lena and Reginald. “Calm down... I can wear my visor if you want?”
Right. Those things humans use to hide their scary faces from us.
“I... I’m good...”
Why would it last? It almost felt good after all.
There was some emotion I struggled to read on the young human’s face, as he sighed and shook his head.
“I screwed this up, I’m sorry. Let... Let me try again.” He straightened out, and adjusted his clothing, before slowly approaching me and giving me a small smile, no teeth showing. “Hello. My name is Kenneth Vince and I'm son of Lena and Reginald Vince. I was told you’re a refugee they took in to help out. It’s nice to meet you. What’s your name?”
That... snapped me out of it. Right... He was... not upset at my existence. He was just very surprised that Lena and Reginald weren’t. That’s a reasonable thing to be surprised about, considering I was surprised about it to this day. I tried to compose myself as I responded.
“My name is Krekos. I live here as... hired help with the cattle. It’s... nice to meet you?”
The smile on Kenneth’s face widens, though he still refrains from showing his teeth. Instead, he extends a hand towards me. A handshake is a human gesture that I found far from comfortable, but I didn’t want to give him a reason to change his mind on acceptability of my existence, so I took it with a wingclaw. He gently took it and held for a few seconds before letting go and sighing again, turning to his parents.
“You know, I always thought you guys would be empty nesters, but I never thought it’d be that literal.”
That got all three of them laughing, as I just tilted my head in confusion. I was fairly sure there were no empty nests in the house until after I adjusted the attic room for my own accommodations. Still, I took the laughter as a sign that the tense moment had fully passed and let my ruffled feathers slowly rest.
“Let’s head inside. Krekos, we’re having dinner, you’re welcome to join us.” Reginald said, picking up Kenneth’s bag. I tilted my head a little and he followed up with elaboration. “We will be having meat... But there’s still going to be stuff you can eat too. It’s a celebration, so I prepared a bit of everything.”
“Dad, you shouldn’t have!” Kenneth responded with embarrassment.
“None of that! Our son returned from the war, alive and a hero, and we can have a celebration. Krekos, I know you’re still... uncertain about meat so you don’t—”
“I’ll join.”
Wait, who said that? And why did they say that in my voice?
Wait, that was me. Why did I say that?
“That’s great to hear! I’ve got some nice steamed broccoli and some vegetarian fried rice as sides that you’ll enjoy!” Reginald smiled at me and I felt myself shrinking into my feathers. That the humans didn’t notice at least, proceeding into the house instead.
Well, looks like I signed my warrant. At least my bag and my epipen were on me in case something at the table triggers the allergy again. Would be rather unfortunate to have it happen two days in a row.
And that’s how, in just ten or so minutes, I found myself sitting at the dining perch, while humans took seats in chairs, all consuming chunks of roasted flesh and somehow managing to also stuff pieces of equally roasted plants in, and converse with one another. You wouldn’t be able to tell on first look, but despite their mouths being relatively small, especially for a predator, it seems they compensate for it by having those be near bottomless in both hunger and small talk.
I am not sure how I managed to shift my focus away from them consuming animal matter in front of me, however vat grown it might have been, and onto their conversation instead, but I succeeded. I suppose that was just part of me going native around predators. Soon, I’ll be the one feasting along with them before I know it, and snacking on those epipens to not die of it.
Like you could ever be on the same level as humans.
“So, Fahl? That’s where you were sent after the Battle of Earth?” Lena asked.
“Yeah. From what I heard, we got a light posting compared to guys at Sillis or Mileau. The most I had to deal with was some exterminator insurgents.”
That’s right. Since harchen participated in the Extermination Fleet, they were one of those who were occupied by humans during the war. It makes sense that there was at least some ground resistance.
“Honestly, the worst thing out there was the heat. Not the flamethrower kind, the climate. The place was so damn dry and hot. At least exterminators you could subdue or evade. Not so much with the scorching sun!”
I couldn’t resist a small chuckle at the idea of a predator being more afraid of hot weather than flamethrowers as I slowly pecked at the vegetables on my plate. Thankfully it was set far enough aside from any meat dishes that no contamination should occur, but I was still examining pieces before putting them in my mouth just in case.
Seems like reacting was a mistake though, as that brought Kenneth’s attention onto me. He finished chewing latest piece of flesh and pointed a fork at me.
“So, Krekos... Where are you from? Cradle was my guess, but I do know there were refugees from other places like Sillis too.”
That’s a weird question. Isn’t it kind of to be expected for a krakotl to be from our actual homeworld?”
“I’m from Nishtal.”
“No, no, that’s not what I meant,” Kenneth chuckled, tossing a piece of broccoli into his mouth and swallowing before continuing, “I meant, where did you live? I kind of assumed you were born there, but it’s not like Nishtal had a chance to send refugees out, and if they did, this is the last place they’d be.”
Oh... I caught concerned looks of Lena and Reginald, looking between me and Kenneth from both sides. Not only did they not make him aware that I was a krakotl, they also neglected to mention just how I came by my refugee status... Which was just a legal workaround to grant me asylum without unnecessary complications or establishing undesirable precedent. Legally, I may be a refugee, but practically... I am a defector. Lena and Reginald know that, I told them my story before. And while they were weirdly accepting, Kenneth... Fought extermination fleet here on Earth. Personally.
Still, I wasn’t about to lie. It took a few moments and gathering mental strength to steel myself, and averting my eyes, focusing on the plate of warm vegetables in front of me rather than the human’s anticipating stare before I answered.
“I did live on Nishtal. I... I came with the extermination fleet.” I responded, doing my best to avoid looking at him. I did not want to witness his reaction, for some reason the thought of seeing it weighed heavy on my mind.
“Oh.”
The response was simple, and had no followup. There was no more clinking of cutlery against plates, or chewing. The only thing hanging in the air of the kitchen was silence, weighing down on me. It dragged on and on... until it just got so unbearable I couldn’t take it.
“I-I’m full... Thank you for the meal.” I quickly said, hopping off the perch and stepping out of the kitchen, quickly making my way to the yard and taking flight.
Fresh air of the outside and rush of it as I flew up and gained speed... I missed that. I knew it’s not safe to just fly over other people’s territory, so I corrected my course into doing large sweeping circles over the cattle yard and simply let my wings carry me.
Flying away from any danger is the only thing I’m good for anyway. The only thing I ever do.
I closed my eyes. With them closed and not focusing on my angle it feels like I’m actually flying away from all the troubles. Away from humans who barely tolerate my existence, away from gojid who see me as worse than a predator, away from Earth and all its incorrigible customs, away from horrid cattle, away from constant memories...
Flying feels nice. It may be a bit harder than it was home, but it’s still possible. I heard that on Venlil Prime or Mileau it’s much harder. But here? Just an extra flap of wings for every few paces and you’re just fine, free to soar the skies...
Alone. With no one to ever share it with me again.
Slowly I let my eyes open back to the bleak reality. Greenery of surrounding pastures and woods, bright blue skies and farmhouses dotted about here and there greeted me. I lowered my gaze down, focusing on what’s below. There they were, fourteen brown and black dots spread around the enclosed portion of the farm territory. I am not sure how much time I’ve spent flying in circles and trying to forget things but my wings were feeling a tad sore. Then as I just began slow descent, in same circular motion, I noticed that one of the birds, a familiar one, was being chased by several others. Recounting the morning, I tried putting the knowledge to action, and shifted direction of descent, swooping down. To my surprise, that actually worked, as the moment I got close to the ground, the cattle birds all got much louder and scattered in all directions, including the loner. Who, at least this time, got off unharmed. I suppose such pathetic flightless creatures would fear a flying one much more than they would when I just run up to them...
Swooping at them from the sky like a predator to intimidate them into behaving... Like an arxur warden.
With the fight preemptively broken up, I flutter up to the roof of the cattle house, to my usual position and rested my wings. I didn’t see any movement from the direction of the house, so I suppose the family is still busy unpacking. Since Kenneth joined the military just before the Battle of Earth, and Lena and Reginald only moved here after their actual house in city of New York got destroyed, it’d be the first time the human is seeing what is basically his new home. There was a room set aside for him since before I even moved in, and while there is also a guest room... That one did not have a large enough window to fit through, which did not feel comfortable. So when I asked for a space with a bigger window they only had an attic to offer. They seemed uncomfortable letting me live in a tiny room with slanted roof, but I found such space more comforting than I would have a large room with a window not large enough to fit even one fully spread wing through.
I wonder if Kenneth will need as much renovation as I did? The house is built for humans, but he never lived there before. Will he need to buy a more comfortable bed? Getting a proper nesting setup in place of a bed took a bit of effort, but I figured something out. Human sheets were comfortable enough for such, and sitting perches were thankfully not that hard to get thanks to help from the refugee administration. Maybe that’s the things that Lena went to buy yesterday? Kenneth’s preferred room decor?
I looked up to the sky to see the sun beginning to dim. I am not sure if it was me flying that long, or me losing track of time in my thoughts again, but the sun was beginning to set. I began my usual chores, putting out an evening meal and water for the beasts, and while they feasted, ate some myself. I was a bit hungry, having not properly finished lunch and about to skip dinner, but after the earlier conversation, I’d really rather avoid giving them the opportunity to talk to me.
After the birds had their fill, and by that I mean they emptied the tray as they always do, I let out the call, and they started funneling into the cattle house. The lonely straggler being first to go and hop into its nesting box. I bet tomorrow I will have trouble with getting her out of there again...
I took the moment to gather some eggs the birds left over course of the day, and once that was over and all of them were accounted for, I closed it up. When I flew down over to the house, there wasn’t anyone by the back door thankfully, so I just left eggs there, returned the basket, and returned to my room through the window.
Well, at least I didn’t get nearly killed today... That’s nice I guess?
I was about to check my holopad when there was a knock on the door. I approached and opened it to see... Kenneth. Standing in the doorway.
“Uh, hi, Krekos. I just, uh... Wanted to apologize again. I really wish mom and dad told me everything ahead of time... I just want you to know, I have no problems with you whatsoever, yeah? It’s just. Surprising, I guess, to hear all that. I didn’t think there were any defectors from the fleet at all... Just. Uh, please don’t worry about me?” He offered me a small smile, showing his canines before quickly correcting himself and doing a closed-lip one. “I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories or make you feel unwelcome.”
I had to take a moment to contemplate his words. Was Lena and Reginald’s weirdness hereditary? He almost reminded me of how Reginald talked to me early on, with constant stumbling over the words, as well as constant reassurances that he is fine with me being here. Couple that with failing to avoid predatory mannerisms like eye contact and smiles like Lena tends to and you get this human. But most importantly and least understandably, there was the general fact of him and them just... welcoming me. I couldn’t understand why. I should be one sorry to them.
“N-No, it’s fine... I’m sorry for... intruding on you and your family.”
“No, no, dude, you’re fine! I mean, hell, I was considering entering one of those exchange programs before the bombings happened, and even after, well, I did my best at Fahl to be the perfect friendly soldier just there to make sure no more bombs drop on my home and not kill or conquer anyone. And then mom told me your story, and I can’t believe it... Just... If you have any issues, feel free to tell me. I’m not one of those racist pricks that are too pussy to even call themselves HF anymore because they know they’ll get their teeth knocked. I get that there aren't good or bad species, just people. And you seem like a decent guy if mom and dad’s judgment is to be trusted.” His smile widened, though it was clear from tension on his face that he had to take conscious effort to keep teeth hidden. “So, what I said earlier stands. Friends, right?”
He extends hand forward, for a second time today. I wasn’t sure if I knew this human long enough to call him a friend... Any human really. But it also seems like human definition of ‘friends’ is anyone they’re cordial and peaceful with. Which is weird. You’d think translators would properly use ‘acquaintance’ for that.
Still... We will be living in the same house now. I can’t just say no, and... I can’t come up with a reason to say no. Even him being a predator and a human is not something I could really say I object to, considering how... mundane that became to me over my time here.
So, with naught on my mind but acceptance of the situation, I extended my wing and grasped his hand with my claw. This time he actually gripped it tightly and moved it up and down, as I saw other humans do occasionally.
“Yeah... I guess that’d be for the best.” I responded, shrugging off the hesitation. Fresh start for a third time, I guess?
The human grinned, forgetting to hide his teeth entirely, but I was ready for it somehow and avoided outwardly reacting.
“Cool! Anyway, I’ll try to get some shuteye early, I couldn’t sleep on the overnight flight home. See ya!”
And with that he left. Well... That meeting went well I suppose?
I returned to my nest and picked up my holopad, returning to what I was doing. And there it was, something I awaited every day. A notification that I was messaged on mailing app. Opening the letter revealed the schedule for the study program. Which... only had one day marked on it. And a note that the rest of it will be figured out ‘as we go from there’. So it’s not a schedule, it’s just a mark for the day of the first meeting.
While a bit underwhelming, it was still exciting. It would be an all-alien class so I wouldn’t have to deal with humans’ incomprehensibility nearly as much, and it would allow me to finally return to pursuing what I actually dreamt of. Even if I wasn’t entirely sure that was precisely what I wanted after everything that happened, it was at least something for me to move towards.
...just two days until start. I wonder if there’s some required reading to prepare?
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Let’s make it aware that there is a job offer scam that lies and take you to Scam Factories and you become a slave, and you may even die. Post here all cases of Disappearance of people who may be associated with this type of scam.

Know The Signs!

Have you been trafficked?

• Did you apply for the job via Social Media (e.g. Facebook, Instagram), WhatsApp, Telegram or an online platform?
• Did you have an online interview?
• Have you been promised a job with a company in Thailand?
• Were you promised a lucrative salary?
• Did you receive a letter of confirmation for your new role?
• Did you investigate the company you applied to and are they registered?
• Do you have an agent or consultant handling details for you?

How to prevent yourself or someone you know from being trafficked

• Never give anyone your passport!
• Research the company you are applying to join. For example, check their website, search for them on social media and LinkedIn, check the legal registration of the company.
• Ask for references (face to face or virtual) from current employees.
• Ensure you received an official letter of offer and check the email addresses match the companies contact information.
• Research the visa requirements for working in a foreign country.
• Notify your countries Immigration Office of your intention to travel or contact your countries Embassy once you arrive at your destination.
• If you are about to cross a river in north-west Thailand don’t, it is likely you are being trafficked into Myanmar.

Forced Scamming:

Trapped in secure compounds.

• Victims are trafficked into secure compounds within Myanmar along the Thailand-Myanmar border with no way to escape. They are watched by armed security and their movements monitored 24/7 by CCTV.

Physically tortured, Sexually Assaulted & brutalised.

• Victims are punished if they refuse to work, until they comply. They are sexually assaulted and brutalised to keep them compliant and their torture used as a warning to others. All have scars, some visible and some hidden, that they will carry with them forever.

Forced to work 20 hour days, 6-7 days a week.

• Victims are forced to work 16-20 hours per day and often 6-7 days each week. They are locked into offices with rows and rows of computers forced to participate in illegal activities, including cyber scamming.

Passports confiscated & phones strictly monitored.

• Victims have their passports confiscated usually under false pretences. All phone activity is strictly monitored with random checks are conducted daily. Victims are forced to use company phones and can only access their personal phones in their rooms.

Could this be your situation? If you or someone you know has been trapped in forced criminality, contact your nearest embassy or email the Global Alms Counter Trafficking Unit at admin@globalalms.com with the details.

This is a post for awareness. Let’s help each other. Only serious comments.
Below are more links to other related posts.
https://edition.cnn.com/interactive/2023/12/asia/chinese-scam-operations-american-victims-intl-hnk-dst/ (Scam Factory location: 16°38'53.0"N 98°31'15.8"E https://maps.app.goo.gl/hjxFLTUJ1SK1aLMM8?g_st=ic)
http://chinascope.org/archives/32233
https://youtu.be/m6qFCdHvYuI?si=rs2J71V1XIeFF7we
https://www.reddit.com/Thailand/s/L8OTm9Lvye
https://www.globalalms.com/protection
(My account created recently for privacy/scam concerns)

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.”

Tldr is the title. I'll add extraneous life context below, but honestly I don't think it's necessary. I've worked retail for five years, and I don't know how I should get out without taking on a bunch of debt.
The main detriment is low pay, but also it's retail. Working with retail shoppers is hard. The work is bearable depending on the people I'm working with (coworkers have come and go throughout the years,) but it doesn't play into my strengths. I am socially weird. I can be friendly and work with others, but constantly engaging with strangers is not my strong suit. I feel like my life is a wheel and I'm a spoke constantly cycling back into the same position as both I and my job remain stagnant year after year. Yet the wheel keeps moving forward, never stopping on its path forward through time, and I blink and lose months and years to this place. I feel like I'm going to die here. (Which is melodramatic, I'm not even 24 yet)
I got an associates degree in "Liberal Arts" before starting this job and have started dabbling in taking more classes at a community college. I'm trying one at a time both so I can work full time and so I can afford to pay. My employer previously offered a higher education benefit, but I didn't use it in time and it seems they shut it down while "revamping" the program (aka removing most of the 4 year degrees.)
Most career paths don't especially interest me, but neither does retail and I need to do something. I tend to have an easy time in school. I put in effort and have always maintained a 3.9+ unweighted GPA. If a class doesn't bore me to tears, I'm passing it. But I'm terrified of digging myself into a new hole and trapping myself in a worse career path. I'm interested in nutrition and exercise science, along with art and writing, but careers in the former take years of schooling (I think there's multiple years after even a bachelor's before someone can qualify as a registered dietition) and the later isn't happening. Accounting was bearable for me. I would do horribly as a nurse, police officer, or firefighter.
I have to get out of here. I want to be financially self sufficient and to be able to help support my family. I want to get married and adopt children one day, which is gonna require a lot more income than my job offers. I have a lot of respect for the people who work retail, but I can't do this forever. I'm terrified of change making things worse, that I'll fail and even this place won't take me back.

I don't understand how I still have Medicaid coverage despite making over the income limit. I live in NC and never spoke to anyone about recertification. I've been receiving letters saying I have coverage, a doctor has been chosen for me, and a plan has been selected.
I qualified for Medicaid last year but never used it because I got a job used my job's health insurance plan.
I thought they went by my income, which they have, I filed taxes each year, and I made over the monthly income the entire time during the recertification period.
NC has this new EPASS account that I can't access because my account is broken. When I've called the number to get help, either no one picks up or they give me different phone numbers that circle back around to people who can't help me.
My initial case worker was not helpful and didn't answer my questions or provide guidance. The NC website isn't helpful, many pages I try to go do are either broken or have no information. And there's rarely a number that works or leads to anyone I can speak to. I was the phone once for 2 hours trying to get answers but go the run around.
My concern is if I'll be penalized for some reason. I never used the insurance once while I was on it. I didn't register a card or an account. The only thing I did once getting coverage was logging into the marketplace to choose one of the insurance companies they listed.

I can't seem to be finding the ones that are actual jobs.
I even go so far as to researching these companies just to make sure.
I've been applying for nearly 8 months. My resume is straightforward, my cover letter explains my strengths, plus I have plenty of experience with customer service.
So far the one job I considered promising returned and email and when I watched the video they added (at this point I already had doubts) it turned out to be a training center to help people obtain an insurance license, with no intention to hire the result.
I even filter what I am looking for with no luck. Maybe I'm searching wrong? As this is the first time I've had to work remotely because of a disability.

ACT 1. Sunday afternoon after visiting the local market two brothers wait for their train to arrive. If they were even a minute late, they knew their mother would surely scold them and scold the elder of the two far worse. The idea of another beating did not bother the elder brother; he had been through far worse just dealing with the brat and his attempted jailbreaks, though something did begin to make him painfully nauseous forcing him to feel pressured by the light breeze as if gravity had suddenly been increased tenfold. All his senses were heightening beyond anything he had thought possible.All around him he saw that the once energetic and hyperactive passengers had become little more than mannequins; their movements slowing to a standstill. They had all gone silent. The station was no longer filled with the cries of children or the gentle laughs of their parents. He had never heard such silence in such a crowded location. He did not feel panicked, nor did he feel a need to act for this silence was oddly comforting to him. However, the newly calm atmosphere would quickly be the source of a lifetime of suffering.His hand began to reach for his brother in an attempt to call his attention. Though in a moment of both unprecedented shock and exhaustion John shoved his younger brother onto the rails of an oncoming train. Local news would report the incident as nothing more than a tragic manic episode of a young sixteen-year-old. However, for John this single visceral instant in which all of his brother's bones were instantly crushed was stretched into hours. He was painfully aware of how every bone in his brother's body contorted in inhuman ways some nearly resembling perfect right angles, until eventually, they snapped and sent insurmountable pain throughout his nervous system. His blood curling screams were made mute by the screech of the train coming to a halt, though, by the time they stopped, his brother had torn his every vocal cord and had long ago lost consciousness. Still on the platform, the elder brother stood still, attempting to process what exactly he had done. He had no idea what force had compelled him to push his brother, but that instant would forever define what he saw as reality.That however was nineteen years ago, in present day he lived in isolation far from any person. He spent his isolated days wandering the land around his cabin completing house chores that distracted him from reminiscing about his days in the asylum or as he liked to call it “The Echo Room” where he was transferred after the incident. He headed inside after spending a portion of his morning counting all one-hundred-and-thirty-two trees that were showing signs of life after the harsh winter that nearly forced him to cut down two of them for firewood. Once inside he began preparing his morning coffee when he heard a loud creak come from the hall. He (after many incidents) learnt to avoid the boards that creaked, so in his mind immediately an intruder was breaking into his cabin searching for food or his stash of special edition coffee. Deciding to investigate he walked towards the noise when suddenly he heard two knocks at his front door. Confused and slightly worried, he proceeded to walk towards the door making sure not to step on any of the annoyingly loud floorboards.He approached and looked through the peephole and saw only what remained of the melting snow outside. Opening the door, he saw that only his steps led to the doormat. He glanced around and saw no indication of any life aside a few dark patches on the snow. He was about to close the door when he noticed a tiny red package wrapped in a radiant red bow placed clear from where the door would open. Cautiously picking it up, he noticed how it had almost no weight to it; as if empty. He walked inside and sat at his desk planning to journal later about the weird morning he had been having. He examined the exterior of the package and saw how not only was it near perfect condition but it was also slightly warm to the touch; as if recently held. He undid the bow and cautiously opened the package, half expecting an explosive of some sort. Though, all he found was a ragged ripped piece of paper. Unremarkable aside from the fact that it was inside such a carefully constructed package. On the other side he saw that it had some scarlet lettering inscribed into it reading.“Ouroboros”. At first believing it to be a prank by the kids who had heard rumors about him, and his incident, nearly caused him to dismiss it entirely deeming it little more than a slightly humorous event. He decided to put it aside for now as he had coffee left to drink that was quickly getting cold. He walked back towards the kitchen still distracted by the idea of no trace being left by whoever had left the gift. Was it even a gift? Maybe it was just some well-executed prank? In any manner he would later have a better look at it. He absentmindedly, reached for his cup and immediately pulled his hand back shocked by the temperature of the cup. It was frozen! Almost to a complete solid. He thought himself slightly distracted but not enough to freeze his morning coffee especially not his special edition coffee. First The Box and now this, it was all adding up to an annoying morning. Was it still morning? No, that’s not right. He had just spent the day counting trees. How could it still possibly be morning?The thought of Dr. Lumis being correct about his mental condition after so many years sent a chill down his spine especially since last time they talked, he did not exactly behave amicably. He was sure that both incidents had been isolated events that could never happen again. Sure, he had heard the echoes every once in a while, but he was never insane like the others; this he knew to be a fact. If he was insane, how could he have ever left? Disoriented and beginning to sweat, his legs suddenly gave out causing him to fall backward landing on the cold wooden floorboards. He looked around hurriedly expecting to see an intruder that had somehow found him. After seeing nothing but his pristine furniture, he steadied himself and began to control his breathing. He slowly got up causing the wood underneath to creak under the sudden release of weight. Deciding to further assure himself he went around the cabin checking in all four rooms. He found nothing aside from his own disturbances. Still feeling slightly nervous and disturbed he headed back towards the living room in search for The Box with the red bow determining that it had somehow triggered his current situation. The Box was still where he placed it; much to his relief. He sat down. He looked once again at the scarlet lettering.
Act 2. Back in the asylum he would often spend his days wondering how he could have ever been grouped alongside individuals who had purposefully and viciously committed heinous crimes against innocent victims. He was not insane like them. Whatever had caused his hand to shove his brother had long abandoned him. His routine now consisted of cleaning whatever mess the older residents made in the halls and transporting lab waste to the crematorium. He would clean from the southern stalls all the way to the northern cemetery and make his rounds gathering the waste from the rooms. It was a simple job but lonely, nonetheless. The halls were often only illuminated by tiny flickering red lights that indicated the position of the cameras through which Dr.Lumis would often monitor John during his nightly crusades. Though incredibly distasteful, John did not mind, he accepted that odd situations would be easier to explain if someone of credit had seen them. Yet despite this, he felt he was being watched by someone other than the doctor. He assumed that this feeling was due to the paranoia he had been diagnosed with a few months back. On a particular night, moments after dumping another bag of soft solids and dense liquids down the chute, he heard footsteps, just outside the room. Expecting to see the doctor he begrudgingly walked towards the door. Exiting and seeing no one he called out for the doctor but got no response aside from the echo of his own voice. He began to walk towards where he had heard the footsteps come from when he suddenly collapsed out of exhaustion. The same exhaustion that had plagued him during the moment of his brother’s death. He tried to reach for his panic button (a gift from Lumis) but it had disappeared from his chain. He tried to scream but not a single whisper was heard. He gazed into the dark corridor where he had thought Dr.Lumis had gone, but saw nothing but soft shadows. Though something was unnervingly wrong about them. They moved as if following an order, all synchronized, all heading towards him. That night in the asylum had left him scared to even return to the disposal area; he feared that The Shadows might eventually be able to reach him. The Shadows did not haunt him unaccompanied: they followed alongside The Echo tormenting his nights. While The Shadows could not reach him during daylight, he could never escape The Echo. It followed wherever he went and tracked everything he did. Dr.Lumis explained that he merely suffered from an extreme case paranoia but John saw the others; who yelled and who screamed true nonsense, he was perfectly aware of himself and the ones around him. Dr. Lumis secretly believed patient #132 experienced Hyper-sanity though this he would never verbally confess. It was term he decided would for now adequately describe his patient’s acute awareness of The Shadows and The Echo. John would for many years go without hearing The Echo after that night, only ever hearing what seemed like the final moans of a dying voice. Back in present day, he hoped he wasn’t suffering another hallucination as they tended to leave him in an embarrassing shocked state. He questioned what “Ouroboros” could possibly mean in relation to himself. He considered the possibility of it being an early warning of some threat to the sanctity of his home. He quickly dismissed it as he had not interacted with anyone long enough to possibly annoy them. Weird them out? Sure. Offend them? Maybe with his sense of fashion. Following his incredibly fine-tuned survival instincts he put on a light coat and went outside to walk among the trees. A mundane task, but one he truly enjoyed especially since he hoped it would distract him for a short while. Just before he closed the door behind him, he took one more look at The Box sitting on his desk and decided to take it with him in case he met the person who had left it. The sun had begun to set marking the end of the day. He watched the sun hide behind the mountain range letting the world bathe in darkness for another night. John did not dislike the night (he had worked nightshifts in The Echo Room for years) but he didn’t find the freezing cold to be ideal. He had not left his land for what was a few years now and the idea of even slightly stepping out of his comfort was making him incredibly anxious. Still, he walked forward towards wherever the path took him. The night only got darker and quieter, and he only got colder. He did not see the lightning bugs that usually warded away the dark near the edge of his hill. Without the soft hum of bugs or soft breeze that would brush against his beard he felt alone. Even the nights back in the asylum did not possess this level of quiet. He kept moving hoping that eventually he would find something that could break the uncomfortable silence. As he continued down the hill, he realized he could no longer distinguish the path from the dirt surrounding it. He considered heading back when he realized he had not kept track of where he had come from. Not only was he lost but alone with his thoughts and whatever had been watching him from the start. He walked a step forward and then another one back repeatedly. What he was attempting to achieve was beyond reason. Had he gone mad? No, he was perfectly sane. “Wait, I can hear them clearly now” he spoke, his voice dried from the cold.“This is not a hallucination” he spoke softly.“i-I AM NOT HALLUCINATING” he proclaimed. He heard The Echo once more though they were not of his voice but rather of Another. He had long been aware of “The Echo” but he could never fully determine whether it was a dream or an effect of the chemicals but this Other was undoubtedly real. “I don’t know where you are but please. Are you real?” he asked the night. He could now hear The Echo or rather feel the pressure of its words upon his reality. Had it been trying to hide the Other? He walked forward and pulled out The Box. “You gave me this right? What for? What purpose does it serve?” No one responded.Annoyed, he threw it as far as he could down the hill. “THERE! THIS CAN’T CONTINUE WITHOUT IT, RIGHT?” He shouted at the endless empty. That’s when out of the darkness emerged a faint light. Was it a lightning bug or maybe a sign of civilization?
Act 3. Cautiously, he approached the cold light and saw that the light was artificial. The tube inside flickered before another appeared a few feet ahead, and then another and then another and then what seemed like an uncountable amount more. He took a step forward and noticed that the ground underneath had turned to hard white tile. Accepting that this was not the weirdest occurrence that had affected him he proceeded to walk forward making sure to keep a mental note to journal about it later. The surrounding landscape transformed into white walls that every so often had a window that let him peek at the other side. At first, he could still see the snowy landscape, but it to slowly changed; first having scattered papers and then chairs, cabinets, and desks until they eventually resembled a typical office. Its purpose was not obvious to him, and neither was the hallway but if they were changing surely, it possessed a deeper metaphorical meaning that related to his life. He saw a door at the very end of the hall and decided to not postpone the ploy of whatever “The Echo” was planning. He stood before the door wondering about what it could possibly contain. John proceeded to open the door. Inside was a desk along with a single cabinet. Walking inside he noticed that the room was illuminated by some otherworldly source that had no words that could possibly describe it. He walked towards the desk and a file he had not seen previously, sat open. Inside was a description of his physical appearance. “Age: 35. Height: 5’8. Weight: 185 lbs. Hair: Black with obvious signs of stress. Eyes: Brown. Character Aptitude: High.” “Okay, I get it. I’m old, you didn’t have to expose my hair like that” he said slightly embarrassed quickly restyling his hair. He noticed that even though they had an almost perfect description of his hobbies, dreams and wishes they did not have a single picture as if they for some reason were only able to use words. “SOOO you know about that one time in the asylum (don’t ask) BUT NOT A SINGLE PICTURE? That’s lame.” he said mockingly. On the final page he found what looked like an incomplete file; most of the personal attributes had not yet been filled and only a note was made reading. “They don’t need a complete story just one they can understand.” Besides the fact that whatever role he played in this act had been a mere afterthought; he was confused as to how anyone could have ever gathered such sensitive and personal information about his isolated life. Was it The Echo? Had it told them his life? A phone started to ring somewhere in the room abruptly breaking the silence he had become used to. He quickly rotated towards the source of the ringing but did not find anything. There was only him and the four walls that despite the lighting did not change a shade of grey. He walked towards one of them that seemed to be where the noise came from resting his hand on it and gently put his ear to it thinking that the ringing was from another room entirely. The wall he had just laid a hand on had no longer a physical representation and causing John to fall through to the other side. Disoriented he slowly looked up and saw The Telephone illuminated by what seemed to be the same light that illuminated the previous room. This one however was far more powerful and concentrated solely on The Telephone. He approached it expecting a chasm to somehow appear underneath his feet. The Telephone did not stop ringing and only seemed to increase in intensity (though this could have simply been a hallucination). He lifted it to cut the blaring noise and slowly put it to his ear. “hello?” “…” “…” “The protagonist only dies if the story ends” the voice said quietly. “HUH? YOU DRAGGED ME HERE TO TELL ME THAT OMINOUSLY ANNOYING LOAD OF *********!” “…I’m so sorry” The call disconnected not out of offense but rather out of completion. John slammed the phone back onto its stand and decided it was time for this nonsense to end. He walked out into the room he was in before anxiously attempting to find another exit: only to be met with solid walls. What wicked game had he been roped into? When would it end? These were questions he would answer far earlier than he expected. A door appeared in the center of the room. No, it was more of a two-dimensional plane that appeared to be a sort of portal. With no other options, John stepped into the newly opened portal.
Act 4. On the other side was a station, and his ears were immediately flooded with the cries of children and the laughs of their parents. He walked around moving through the crowd careful to not miss any indication of the location. His pace increased as he began to recognize the commuters shortly realizing exactly where he was. He rushed to a platform, the platform where he and his brother were to arrive after their day in the market. He sat on a nearby bench committed to saving his brother no matter who he would have to shove instead. Three agonizing days passed with the daily commuters repeating their routine with the slightest variations. One of these variations would be the key to preventing the day that haunted his nights. Something would soon cause him to shove his brother onto the tracks. He was determined to stop the fall or kill himself to keep his brother safe.He heard a familiar laughter and turned towards the source and saw his brothers face uncontrollably laughing and himself lightly smiling. He began to run towards them but felt once again suddenly exhausted. As if the air became a type of nonnewtonian sludge making his legs impossibly heavy. The crowd around him seemed to be moving just as easily as before; children laughing just as maniacally and just as carelessly. He tried to yell to them, but his lungs were filled with the dense fluid drowning any screams he attempted. He was forced to watch how his brother got closer and closer to the edge. Through much effort, he managed to get close enough to extend a hand towards his past trying to desperately push him away from his brother. The past reacted in what seemed to be a defensive system and sent a temporal anomaly throughout the space his past and present inhabited. Time began to exponentially speed forward. In a last desperate attempt to prevent his brother’s death he tried to distract the past long enough to let the train pass without incident, but the temporal anomaly caused the relative slow velocity of his touch to have the effect of a sudden jerk and in his final moments of consciousness he saw his brother accelerate towards the rails in a split second. He awoke back in the office alone with nothing, but the realization of what force had killed his brother. He curled into the fetal position and began to cry; still believing his lungs to be filled with the dense liquid he did not let out a single sigh. He spent several hours in this state of painful silence without even opening his eyes. His emotions were chaotic and his thoughts unending. They tormented him for hours far after he had run out of tears to let out. They were merciless and torturous forbidding him from resting, insisting on his suffering. Being the cause of his brother’s death nearly caused him to go insane yet part of him kept insisting that Another was to blame. Another had caused him to do it. The Other had forced his hand. Of this, he was now sure. The Other enjoyed his suffering, The Other forced him to kill his brother. He had not eaten nor slept in what seemed like years and yet he stood up defying the gravity that held him down. He took a deep breath of as much oxygen as his lungs allowed and began to speak. “Whoever you are. Whatever you are. Wherever you are. Just know I will no longer play for your entertainment the rest is entirely my choice” he said threateningly. He then began to walk forwards confidently towards the dark wall and through the hidden door that he was not supposed to see. He entered what seemed to be a studio room though, unlike the sterile office; it was trashed. Papers littered the floor and empty bottles populated the lone mattress. On it laid a journal that had recently had liquid spilt on it. He picked the journal and gently opened it and began to read. It was scratched with the stray ideas of a creator who seemed to have never decided upon an end or beginning to his story; yet possessing the journey. He saw many ideas that together seemed to create a way for the continuity to depend entirely on Another rather than itself. A thought described in a single word interested him enough to take it with him. The room started to dissolve around him transforming into a cold landscape. Armed with the knowledge of who he was he treaded what remained of the worn-out path. The sun began to rise signing the start of another day, yet John did not seem to notice as he was focused on something buried in the snow. He could not see much of it yet he knew it was The Box he had thrown the previous night. He dug it up and began his walk up the hill once more. He eventually arrived at his cabin and walked towards his front door….
Act 5.
If you wish to rebel; continue reading on the next page.
Begin the story once more on Truth 2.
If you wish to ward away The Other; don’t read any further
If you wish to follow The Echo read Truth 3
To understand turn to Truth 4
Truth 1
…Before deciding that no longer would he be a puppet for someone’s amusement. John arrogantly began marched back down the hill and headed north towards the nearest interstate a few miles from his home hoping that he had derailed The Echo’s plot. It took him hours on foot, but he would eventually come across the road and start his journey back to civilization no longer subject to the whims of an Otherworldly Audience. He believed his future was now his to decide. He decided what he would become. He decided when and what to think. This he was sure would be how he escaped his torment. John suddenly suffered a complete body collapse and fell forward landing face first onto the scorching road. It would be several sweltering hours before anyone would find him. But eventually someone did, john suffering heavy burns and on the brink of death was saved. He would awake months later in a hospital bed though no one would ever know of this. Weeks would pass as john laid in the hospital bed unable to speak or even move; alerting no one to his consciousness. The doctors and nurses were busy with whatever important patients needed immediate attention; they walked from one end to the other in what seemed like mere minutes. The entire time the only company he had was The Echo and yet slowly it too seemed to forget his existence as well. Eventually The Echo having no interest went away.Jane a third-year medical student had recently joined the staff a month prior and had already been assigned two elders and one child. Though overwhelmed she did not grow annoyed nor frustrated; she loved her job and by proxy her patients. Despite her benevolent nature there was a single patient she never went near as he always seemed to be watching her despite his eyes being shut for over four months. Any time she got near to patient #132 she would begin to get nauseous and quickly retreat. She had no ID on the man, but it seemed he was dehydrated for far longer than should’ve been possible and should be by all accounts dead if not near it. Whenever she worked nightshifts, she would swear that she heard the man whimper slightly as if to warn her of something. Even when she was on the opposite side of the building, she would hear the echo of his groans. She would eventually be transferred and would soon forget the man who after 6 months was officially declared braindead and was due to be disposed of, yet she would still every once in a while, still hear The Echo. Forgotten Ending
Truth 2…Realizing that there was no other choice John took a step forward while placing the note he ripped from the journal into The Box making sure to keep it neatly packaged. He saw the footprints he had left two nights before and carefully stepped into each one making sure to not disturb the surrounding snow. Whatever…Whoever had set him on this path allowed him to live a life of suffering, a life of loss, and a life of pain. This, he felt was the way things were intended to play out; the way it had to end. He placed The Box on the final step making sure it would not be knocked away whenever the door would eventually open. He walked away nearly to the edge of the property when he looked back once more. Managing to peek inside he saw his past still making his coffee when he saw an almost invisible distortion appear near the front door. He smiled and turned away only saying…Freedom ending
Truth 3…though spotting a disturbance near the back of the cabin distracted him from the front door. He decided to investigate for fear of losing a single blossoming tree. Arriving near the back fence he saw no indication of a disturbance giving him much needed reassurance. He heard noise emerge from inside the cabin giving him one more dilemma to deal with. He headed to the backdoor making sure to not disturb the recent snow and entered the cabin. Being sleep deprived and without coffee he had forgotten about the wooden floor and stepped on one that caused a creak to be heard throughout the cabin. He quickly hid in the bathroom fearing that he had disturbed the continuity that The Echo had established when suddenly a bright flash blinded him. He found himself at the front door next to The Box. Slightly amused he proceeded to knock on the door and was soon after transported once more to an empty hall. Both confused and entertained as he was being transported from one place in time to another he took a few steps forward alerting the past to his presence. Seeing his past enter the hall he ducked and quickly hid around the corner. His past seemed to believe that the doctor was in the halls and decided to investigate though just as he was nearing closer; his past collapsed. John saw how his fall was slowed as if moving through the dense liquid he had once gone through. He walked towards his past and noticed an old fashioned panic button that would instantly call Dr.Lumis to his location. Measuring the consequences, he decided to remove the panic button and head back towards The Shadows. For a third and final time he was transported to a final location, the bottom of a snowy hill. Taking in his surroundings he noticed burn marks on the snow where his past would eventually walk through the portal whenever the past caught up. He reached into his pocket and realized how the plot was supposed to move forward. He walked until he reached the exact point where his past would once again find The Box. He kneeled and buried The Box making sure to erase any evidence of his own disturbances. Fully fulfilling his purpose John collapsed. The End.
“Did the hero die?” “What?” “Did he die?” “No? He beat the bad guy and saved the day remember?” “Yea but like AFTER.” “Well, I guess after a few years he would.” “No” The young child said growing annoyed, “when you said, “The End” did he die?” “No.” responded the elder brother. “Then what happened to him? Is he still alive?” “The protagonist only dies if you stop reading.” concluded the elder brother as if possessed. Begin again?
Truth 4…Then just as he took his first step forward everything began to rot. His trees, his home, his coffee, all of it was slowly eroding into a fine dust. He knew that another temporal anomaly would be the likely cause, but he had not yet experienced one that possessed this level of molecular destruction. The fabric of his reality was slowly and thoroughly being untangled into its most simple of compositions. It separated the light from dark, gravity from time, and words from spaces.John could now comprehend what had defined his reality for so many painful years, he finally understood The Narrative and how all possible endings had been chosen long before his creation. John had been a slave from the moment The Narrative began; not once in his entire existence had he ever had a real choice only walking paths already treaded by Another. He was nothing but a plot device in an otherwise self-indulging tale written by a gentle master forced to be cruel for those above. From the moment this story began, John was in pain. He could never hope to truly escape; he could only die until he arose once more. Had John never understood what his life really was then maybe he could’ve found meaning in his suffering. Unfortunately, this choice has now forced John to become aware of how truly meaningless his existence was. His life was little more than entertainment for The Other; they were the ones truly in control. For as long as The Other remained, The Echo would doom John to eternal suffering. The Echo was never in control of The Narrative; he too was merely a subject to it by an even greater force. The Echo did not wish for John to suffer but The Other would not allow John to live if he did not. It is a toxic cycle of pain, suffering and realization that forces John to relive The Narrative lifetime after lifetime. The Narrative must have suffering intertwined into its foundation otherwise The Other would grow bored and erase the reality ending John in but a mere thought. Don’t you see? Don’t you understand? This is reality; John cannot exist without pain, The Echo cannot live without a narrative, and The Other is you. THE END......
Intended to be a philosophical narrative detailing the tragic relationship between the reader, the narrator, and the character and how they cannot coexist without hurting each other.

I just finished Oathbringer and am fully invested in figuring out all of the intricate details of this series that has quickly become my new obsession. I’ve loved diving into the lore and seeing how our characters have been handling growing through their serious brokenness. Just wanted to post a lot of my thoughts, ideas, and questions here. Please let me know if any of these can be answered with information through OB. Otherwise, I’m sure most of this is RAFO and I’ll see as I jump right into Dawnshard and RoW!
Radiance

• Will Kaladin even say more of the Windrunner Ideals? There is something weird going on with the Radiants and why they decided to break their oaths at the Recreance and I don’t think we have the full story yet. Perhaps we don’t need our main characters to finish all of the Ideals? Not sure.
• I’m thinking that the 4th Windrunner Ideal might be something along the lines of “I accept that I can not protect everyone” and Kal must learn to live with the fact that sometimes he will fail and it will be very hard for him.
• What is our count on number of Ideals sworn by Shallan? Shallan’s are, of course, the truths that she tells to Pattern and those include the murders of each of her parents as we found in WoR. But what more could she say? There is still a lot of mystery with her family and their ties to the Ghostbloods, especially the mother and Helaran.
• Let’s get Shallan soulcasting more! She’s been way out of practice on that end.
• What about Dalinar’s Ideals? Dalinar becoming Unity seemed to be the second of his Ideals as the Stormfather accepted his words during the Battle for Thaylen City. I’m interested to see more of his development as a Radiant. It seems that the Bondsmiths are particularly important and I want to know more about each of the three of them and what their specific roles are. Will we see the other two appear as the series goes on?
• I’m glad Dalinar learns to read and write, it’s about time we give up some of those old-fashioned Vorin ideas. I was kinda hoping his Bondsmith powers would let him learn immediately in the same way he learns other languages by touching someone who speaks it, but oh well.
• I do not think we’ve seen much of the Surges of Cohesion and Tension (Stoneward territory) and I’d love to learn more about what they are, how they work, how different Radiants manifest powers through them. The Ars Arcanum descriptions of them are vague and mysterious. Dalinar can gain the power of Tension through being a Bondsmith, but I’m not sure if we’ve seen that explicitly yet?
• Just how powerful was Dalinar’s Unity stand? Odium retreated immediately after the conjunction of the three realms. Was Odium’s claim of (paraphrase) “I though we killed you” referring to Honor, or perhaps something different? Is this one of Dalinar’s powers now, i.e., will he be able to regenerate Stormlight at his will? It seems so since he reloaded Kaladin before he flew off to recover Skar, Drehy, and co., but it seemed to be quite taxing on him.
• Man I just want to know all about the different powers that Surgebinders carry. There are 10 surges total, and if each Order of the KR can access 2, then there are 10!/(8!2!) = 45 unique combinations of two surges… too bad there are only 10 orders instead of 45 to match all combinations :( Might have been an undertaking for Brandon to create all of these orders.
• It’s been hinted that upper-level Ideals must be sworn for Radiants to get Shardplate? Maybe we’ll see that happen in RoW.
• Of course Malata is siding with some antagonists. Fits the trope that fire/destruction powers = evil. Bummer. Maybe someone else will come up who can use this power for good.
• Renarin’s bond is interesting to me. His spren is either corrupted or simply one of the Voidspren, but he still seems to maintain good intentions as a character. I’m interested to see what happens with him. Maybe not all Voidspren have to side with Odium/the Fused. He is also mentioned (secretly to Odium) in the Diagram, so he’ll obviously play an important role.
• Similarly, I’m interested in Venli’s role. Seems like she recognizes that things are off with the Voidspren and Odium. Is her spren Timbre a lightspren? Willshaper Venli? Her ties to Odium, the Listeners, the Fused, etc. will be interesting after having said the First Ideal. Especially with the Voidspren that is in her gemheart.
• Jasnah clearly is very powerful (as shown at the Battle for Thaylen City) and it was an interesting choice to make her queen. I’d have figured she would want to devote her time to her scholarly work rather than dealing in politics, but we’ll see how it goes I guess. Might be hard to find time to mentor Shallan on Soulcasting too.
• Man we gotta find a way for Lift to either take in Stormlight in the normal way or to just get her a huge duffel bag full of food all the time, especially during battles.

Gods, Heralds, all things of power:

• What are the different “levels” of power that each of the gods possess? Honor has obviously been killed, but I get the sense that he might still be able to “come back” through DalinaStormfather? I don’t know. These gods can be killed I guess, so not quite true God-gods, just some supremely powerful beings.
• What are the motivations of these different gods (Odium, Cultivation, pre-death Honor, others)? It’s hard to get a reading on why Odium wants to be so involved with the Singers’/Listeners’ return instead of just existing as a god somewhere. I know he’s trapped somehow, hence the barter with Dalinar, but like why does he cause so much mischief in the first place? Just his nature I guess?
• Wit has got to be up here with this crew of gods, no?
• Who is Rayse? We hear about him through the letters exchanged with Wit in the epigraphs, but still so mysterious. Again, what are these higher-beings’ motivations? Perhaps his role is clearer by reading some of BS’s other books prior to the SA?
• I do believe that Adonalsium is the true OG God, and he somehow split into “Shards” that might be these other gods known as Honor, Odium, Cultivation, etc., but that is surmised through some reading online. Not sure exactly where that information has come out and what I need to read for better background on this. How did the Shattering occur? Why did the Shards gain sentience? Why do they have different personalities and motivations?
• This Voidlight is mysterious still. How is it different in nature to normal Stormlight? Can Knights Radiant take it in the same way? Can the Fused take in regular Stormlight? I don’t think it’s been explicitly stated, but this must be what was in the sphere that Gavilar gave the Szeth on the night of the assassination. Also is that sphere the same thing Navani hinted at when Dalinar showed her the Nergaoul-infused King’s Drop?
• I’m interested to find out why are Honorspren looked down upon in Shadesmar at the moment.
• Szeth’s blade is very different — talks to him, needs to be sheathed instead of vanishing, has a very skewed sense of time, drains color.
• I am hoping that the Heralds are able to make somewhat of a recovery from their insanity and we can see them in power. Too bad Jezrien has been killed. I was looking forward to his return in particular. Nale is… coming around? We got a few glimpses of Ash in Oathbringer, and I realized she is the same character as the woman destroying paintings in the WoK interlude. Taln is so noble… was not even mad about holding the gates for 4.5 thousand years, just happy to have given humans the time to develop. Taravangian hinted that Dova in Kharbranth is Battar. Seems like Ishar will come into play given all his mentions in Oathbringer. Haven’t heard much (or don’t remember) much of the others (Kalak, Pailiah, Vedel, and Chanarach), but hopefully they show themselves soon!
• Ok, so the secret came out that the humans are the Voidbringers and came from another planet that they destroyed and caused a lot of problems here on Roshar. The timeline for this is confusing to me. If the humans are the invasive species, then why were the Heralds created in the first place? It’s my understanding that the Heralds (or all of the ones we’ve seen so far) are human. The old story says (or implies) that the Heralds were created to bring an end to the Desolations. So does that mean that the humans invaded, then Honor gave a handful of them additional powers (Surges) to help exterminate the Singers and the other Rosharan inhabitants? And then, of course, the formation of the Knights Radiant. When did they come about? Did the Heralds fight for a few hundreds/thousands of years before the KR were formed or were they around earlier? I’m missing the motivations of the gods here… why would Honor create these powerful beings to help invade a new planet? Not very honorable if you ask me. What kinds of powers did the early Listeners have that required the use of Surgebinding to defeat? How do the Voidspren and Fused play into this? Are they native Roshar spren that are just angry at being taken over by humans with their bonds to other higher spren? Something is fishy with the relationship between the Listeners and the Voidspren — they banished them at risk of being enslaved for thousands of years. Most of the Listeners are rightfully angry at the humans for millennia of enslavement, but very few actually want to kill the humans. Rather, they seem content to just cohabit Roshar. I am hoping for further clarification in RoW.
• The Unmade are so fascinating to me. They are described as being of Odium, but do not necessarily want to remain tied to him, some of them having minds of their own, fueled by the specific Passions relevant to them. Interesting how these powerful spren will continue to influence Roshar. Also being made, then unmade?? What’s that all about?
• Cultivation is being foreshadowed a lot and I am wondering what her influence will be in the coming books. She had the interaction with Dalinar in his flashback, but they talk about her so much more than just referring to this one instance. The Nightwatcher’s powers (with the boons/curses) are still so interesting to me too.
• Have we seen Odium’s analog to the NightwatcheStormfather? I’m assuming that if Cultivation and Honor have these more-powerful spren, then so will he. Maybe you could consider the Unmade to satisfy this role?

Secret Organizations:

• Ghostbloods — I feel like we’ll get a lot of info. on these guys soon. We know somewhat little about them. Members include Mraize and Iyatil, both mysterious, and members of House Davar. They are good at finding Honorblades and Heralds. Lots and lots of secrets. They’re gonna keep on manipulating Shallan it seems… hopefully she can maintain an upper edge.
• The Diagram — I am inclined to think that the Diagram may be right, but I am hoping that it’s flawed. Interesting that there were parts of the Diagram that even Odium couldn’t see (Renarin’s name). Seems they have good intentions, but are ultimately perilous to our protagonists through their means to save Roshar and, thus, are “bad guys”. I seems to me that Taravangian just wants what’s best for Roshar, and it’s too bad his one day of genius has painted all of our main characters as roadblocks/liabilities/etc. Always so sneaky, Taravangian, but also very interesting. I hope he has another day of brilliance, I loved reading the day on Urithiru where he was quite intelligent (still not the same as the Diagram day, of course).
• Sons of Honor — my least favorite of the secrete organizations tbh. Glad Amaram is dead after being infused by the Unmade (can’t remember which one. Yelig-Nar maybe?). Amaram seemed to have met with Odium prior to the battle for Thaylen City though… is that consistent with the SoH or did he break off from the group to do this? Other members of SoH that we know of so far?

Bridge Four:

• The connection between squires and radiants is still kinda vague to me. What are the requirements for these squires to become full Radiants, if at all?
• I think Rock may be my favorite B4 member, so earnest and kind, doesn’t want to hurt anyone. And a good cook. I’d like to know more about his past, his family, really all about the Horneaters. I could tell right away that he’d be pretty distraught over having to take the Amaram kill shot.
• Love Skar and Drehy’s connection with Adolin.
• Teft has gotta figure out his firemoss shit
• How can you not love the Lopen?

Other mysteries and thoughts:

• Aimia — what happened here? What caused its destruction? It’s hinted in Mythica that one of the Unmade, the mysterious Dai-Gonarthis, may have caused the destruction of this country. There are still secrets lying in Akinah as suggested by the Oathbringer interludes that I’d love to discover more about.
• What of the Aimian people? Reading online hints that there are two types, iirc. The only things I remember are of Axies the collector and the Sleepless that Lift encounters in Edgedancer. I remember being thoroughly spooked by him, hordelings crawling around all the time. Perhaps as intended, every time there is mention of cremlings in the main SA series, I think it’s one of the Sleepless keeping an eye on things (Taln’s kidnapping at the end of WoR, e.g.).
• Zahel has a lot to yet reveal in these books. I feel like he’s pretty dang powerful and should have a bigger role in all of this.
• The country of Natanan is somewhat interesting right now too. Still surviving as a city-state over so close to the Origin. How are they doing? I want more on them too.
• There’s some sketchy stuff going on at the Origin too. We’ve got information about that story (from Wit’s story in WoK if I remember correctly) that people may live there and have their own kingdom and whatnot. This place gets hinted at from time to time. Was the Oathbringer interlude about the lighthouse taking place here?
• There’s something going on in the Horneater Peaks. There is a Perpendicularity there, but I feel that can’t be all.
• What’s the deal with the Greatshells? They seem important and… wise? Perhaps some relation to the Chasmfiends (unless they’re classified as Greatshells too? I’m mostly thinking of those that live in/near the Reshi Isles).
• So much of the Cognitive realm/Shadesmar still needs to be explored and understood from our perspective.
• Will the assassin hired by Jasnah on the night of Gavilar’s assassination come into play again? Can’t remember her name rn.
• Speaking of that day… why were the Heralds (Nale and Ash? Any more?) at the party?
• Who is Restares and why did Gavilar think he may have been involved with his murder? Is there some deeper involvement by House Sadeas in the assassination of Gavilar as well?
• We still don’t know the full details of Gavilar’s plan. What was he up to? The Listeners killed him for the desire to bring back their gods (which has proved disastrous), but what else was he getting into? He had clear ties to the Sons of Honor I think.
• Will Adolin be able to revive Maya and perhaps gain some Radiant powers?? I’m rooting for it to happen.
• Man, what’s going on over in the West? Iri and Rira just decided to submit to the Voidspren/Listeners immediately? And Shinovar is going to have an interesting story with it being the first-landing of humans and the storage space for most of the Honorblades for thousands of years.
• Wit found a Pattern at the end of part 5 and mentioned some of the First Ideal (interesting…). He’s always going to be a mystery to me, I fear. But also easily one of the, if not the, best character in the series.

I’ve been quiet for a while because I moved in with BP and we have been working through things for almost two years. I’ve been doing bi-weekly IC, monthly relationship coaching, we did bi weekly couples counseling, and I continued with my psychiatrist. I’ve read multiple books such as “the body keeps the score”, “the state of affairs”, “not just friends”, and “the courage to stay”. I’ve poured effort and energy into the marriage helper (though we aren’t married) program and one other program. I am really trying. I have so many good memories from the past 18 months that completely warm my heart…. And then suddenly a few weeks ago — BP asked me to move out. BP felt the angry thoughts about me they continuously had weren’t healthy and that it wasn’t a good way to live “always feeling triggered by me”. We have had a few bumps in the road: There was some tension after I found solace in a game on my phone for a bit — but BP brought this to my attention in CC and I quickly realized how triggering that might be and did my best to never be on my phone when we were together. BP also had free rein to any of my devices including my phone whenever they wanted. Eventually, BP started to get annoyed anytime I would even look something up - even for work. So that was difficult. But I was trying my best. I kept trying to be better — truly. BP also felt I was “disinterested” in any intimacy , which wasn’t anything BP did wrong but more of a personal self-confidence issue with me after gaining some weight after a recent running injury. So I got a weight loss and wellness coach to help me get back on track.
Anyway, BP made the announcement suddenly in one of our CC meetings. I felt so blindsided. It felt like we were working through this. However, out of respect for BP and their wishes (but against my heart and feelings for BP), I have slowly since moved out to stay with some mutual friends.
It has been AGONY without my BP. Today, BP asked for their house key back and my heart just sank. That kind of sinking feeling when you just take a deep breath and the only thing that comes out are tears because the sadness is boiling over inside. In my heart, I don’t want to give it back. Not because I will do anything nefarious or horrible. But because it feels so final. Please don’t hate on me for this. I would never do anything horrible or vengeful. But I just still feel special having their key on my key ring - like I still have a home with BP.
Last week, I spent multiple days constructing a really heartfelt letter to BP relaying how much I appreciate all the effort BP has put into trying to make this work , the amount of bravery it took to stay and try, and a few of the reasons I am so in love and cherish them. I did my best to pour my heart into it. I read it to them as I came to get a few more boxes of my stuff. It didn’t get much of a reaction - but that’s ok, maybe it needs to marinate for a bit… I also sent it to them so BP could have it to read if they chose to do so. I am trying so hard to be respectful and mature through this because I know it’s my fault this is broken. But I am not well. Not well at all.
I don’t want to whine or make this about myself but I just feel completely soul broken. I know what I did to BP was awful and betraying them destroyed everything they thought they knew. I know this relationship is broken because of my actions. I also realize that it is not up to me whether or not BP takes me back. But I thought we were slowly trucking along. Of course there were small bumps and blips in the road but I felt we were doing well getting through some things and making some (albeit slow) progress.
I love BP so much. I realized how much I took their love, passion, generosity, tenderness, and spirit for granted. I emasculated them and likely destroyed their ego. Maybe I didn’t do enough to help build it back up? I’m not sure. But I definitely had/have every intention of repairing everything in my power. I will do anything to help repair this for us.
I hate myself for it. But I just cannot get through this I cannot leave them. It is killing me. I honestly find myself driving to work and hoping I get side-swiped in a horrible car accident so I don’t have to think about everything I’m losing because of what I did the first two years of our nearly 4 year relationship. I am not the kind to do anything to hurt myself but if something were to happen to me - maybe it would be a little mental and emotional break. It hurts so bad. I know I can’t force BP to love me. But part of me thinks they still care but they are so hurt (traumatized) and haven’t been able to get through the trauma that I have caused. I want to be there to help but I know they don’t want me around. And it kills me.
To add salt to the wounds, I gave up a once-in-lifetime dream job offer to move down here to live with BP and work on “us”. And now the job I took here (which is definitely not dream job status) is falling apart (so-to-speak). I just feel so broken and hopeless and it’s all my fault. It absolutely kills me. I miss every single moment with them. I guess I just need a shoulder to cry on and some sort of hope that maybe my BP just needs a little time and space. I’ve searched and there really isn’t much support for waywards that are in my position. Any support or reassurance is appreciated.
Thanks everyone. 🙏🏼

Just another fun little story idea I had. I am still working on Humans are the violent ones but I like to bounce around and experiment with ideas to see what I really like. I also suck at writing more casual stories, as they give me severe writer's block as I try to map out how to make a scene feel genuine in my head, but I promise I'll update that soon. If you like this story and want to see more, then like and comment. I'll gladly continue this series as well.
Start of Personal Log
Humans don't like being told what to do. They don't like being commanded, put in their place, or snubbed. It was an inexorable, inalienable trait of humans, at least any noteable humans, to go against any authority that they believed was against their interests.
Humanity would not fit amongst the stars. Few ever did. It was a trait of most successful species to be willful, ambitious, and to desire more. But once they reached the stars the new (and simultaneously very old) pecking order either quashed any spirit such species had or simply eradicated them. Countless tomb worlds and diaspora served as painful reminders of what became of the nails that chose to stick out. The hammer of order would always strike. There could be no compromise, the very soul of the authority that held the Jurisdiction together relied on a show of unmatched power, or at least the illusion of item.
In reality, the Jurisdiction was an old, fat, and lazy beast. It filled its belly on the corpses of empires far and wide, and sated its bloodlust on the shattered dreams of hopeful cubs. It had every right to, for none could challenge it: there were no new frontiers to explore, nor were there any other enemies to conquer. The Milky Way, as humans had so strangely dubbed our cradle galaxy, as well as Andromeda, had long since been warred over and settled for millennia before humanity had arrived, bright-eyed and with familiar yet otherwise foolish dreams of cooperation and prosperity. The Jurisdiction did not cooperate, nor did it ensure prosperity. Oh, it claimed it did, but in reality it simply took. The rest was just the peace that came with not being the direct target of the biggest fish in the pond. The humans didn't like that, but they had no choice.
Slavery was a common tribute. The Jurisdiction had no use for other resources: it simply took. No, it wanted those who could facilitate that unequal exchange, those raised in a world where the only morality was the one set by your lord. The Jurisdiction was held together by expectations, obligations, and dury more than any kind of shared dream, so when you were ordered to take you did so without question. Humanity was new: they had no niche or value that set them apart, but they had a penchant for killing and taking, so the Jurisdiction gave them a taste of how the galaxy worked. They killed and they took. The humans didn't like that, but what choice did they have?
Humans were strange. They learned, but not in the way most species learned. Most species learned to adapt in a passive way, to adhere to the world around them. They flowed like water, moving past and around obstacles and confirming to the boxes they were assigned too. Humans didn't confirm, nor did they adapt: they made their circumstances fit their desires. They would not move around obstacles, but rather smash through them, and they refused to stay in one box for too long. The Jurisdiction merely saw them as a particularly loud nuisance, but those who faced their wrath knew better.
It is said that when a beast seeks to make an example, it shall humble its rival by killing it's cubs. Children were one of those universal constants that brought entire communities together: the Sok’klar saw their hatchlings as gifts, shaped by the fruitful currents of the universe in perfect harmony. The Yarrack saw each and every newborn whelp as an uncut gemstone, ready to be shaped into something magical. Humanity oftentimes referred to their offspring as angels, or spirits of unbridled good sent by the gods themselves. Children were seen by most of the galaxy as gifts.
The Jurisdiction saw them as a lever to inflict suffering. It had become quite effective at enacting psychological punishments on those that stood up and spoke out. You dare to disobey? You believe you can speak out? Your gifts shall be taken from you, and you shall be without joy.
Humans didn't like this, but the Jurisdiction would have their pound of flesh, and humankind would kneel. And they did. But humans were patient creatures: most species who retained that trait of willful spit also lacked patience.
I had long since become desensitized to the Jurisdiction’s actions: it was simply how the universe worked now, as if it were a constant akin to gravity. Cruelty was the unspoken rule of this seemingly unending age, where our lives never appeared to move forward or backwards, only lay dormant. The Jurisdiction had been the unyielding authority that ruled the galaxy for thousands of years, venerable yet feared all the same.
And for the longest time I was just another cog in its wheel. My name is Kalnuracht Sedjuur-Noumar VII, and was the scion of the noble house Sedjuur-Noumar. I was born into what most would describe as veiled apathy, living a life that could be attributed to the privileged class of feared scribes that enacted the will of those above. I was an administrator and nothing more. And now I am doomed to be far less than that in the eyes of my former constituents within the endless administration. I am the only scion, as is tradition, and without an heir I am the last of my house, our name to be scrubbed from the records, worthless, meaningless, and forgotten.
I am merely Kalnuracht, nothing else and nothing more. I have seen from their eyes, the eyes of the downtrodden, and it makes my crimes of association with the Jurisdiction feel all the more damning on my worthless soul. I am worthless to the world, and this is my story.
End Personal Log #1
Start of Neural Lace Narrative Log #1
They came from the black like carrion birds in the night, encircling our convoy as if it were a dying animal ready to be picked clean without remorse. There was no warning, no list of demands sent out as civilized peoples did, nor was there either any requirement for unconditional surrender nor chance to parlay, as was done so under letter of marque: this was an unmistakable call for violence and nothing else. They sought to reduce us to slag and scavenge the rest.
So, as one would expect, the entire bridge of the ship was nearing a panicked state. This was not the actions of those practicing civility, but rather the common behaviors of despoiling barbarians, the kind that tore their way through the dark reaches of the galaxy as if they owned it.
“Wayfinder, what do your probes see?” Shouted the ship’s sovereign. He was an older Kar’Rowmach, an amphibious cephalopod species with a venerable history within the Jurisdiction going back thousands of years. Normally one such as him would be above me if it weren't for the fact that I was under the authority of the Jurisdiction’s seal of office. He didn't like me very much, but most of his kind shared the same sentiment.
“All dark, honorable Sovereign: the sensor arrays are wailing but the feedback we're reviewing is beyond incomprehensible,” the wayfinder replied with a certain restrained temper in his voice. The Sok'klar wayfinder swayed gently, his tentacled limbs grasping different metallo-liquid braille output arrays, the liquid gallium flexing and reshaping unnaturally to allow him to to take in multiple different sources of sensory output at once, with the primary navigation computer plugged into the cybernetics surrounding his opaque, gelatinous head and plugging directly into his tube-shaped brain.
The Sovereign cursed in Loskat and pointed to his bridge crew while I simply sat in the back, near the Sovereign’s symbolic throne. “Prepare countermeasures and spool up the warp drive, we cannot allow the amanuensis to be taken! He carries sensitive information that only he can translate and transcribe!”
As the bridge crew nodded and began fiddling with their own systems, I preened my feathered hide anxiously. I wasn't a fighter: us nobles of the cloth were the educated minority above all else, not those who waged war or partook in hard labor. Special cybernetics in my brain allowed me to translate triple-encoded messages that usually took a ducal signet codekey or above to parse, but even without that I was a skilled mathematician and logician. I had terabytes worth of knowledge stored within the hardware installed in my head, all well protected of course, but if I were to die it would still be a waste. I could only imagine the damage any malcontenders could do with it if they were able to get their filthy hands on me.
Suddenly, the ship rocked, and the gallium overhead display began to form crescendos like I'd never seen before. “Sovereign, decks A-3 through C-12 are venting atmosphere and our coolant systems have been obliterated,” the Wayfinder spoke in an almost serene voice, as if he was completely unconcerned by current events. I knew they were simply incapable of tonal displays, but it was unnerving nonetheless. “Once we jump, we will not be able to risk another until the vacuum of the void can reduce temperatures to acceptable levels within the plasma capacitors.”
“Damn them,” the armored nautiloid hissed, his barbed feelers coiling in frustration, “May the currents take them. What are our options? what can we see? This fleet cannot fall to the void today, not with such vital cargo.” My hackles rose lightly at the Kar’Rowmach referred to me as some object rather than an esteemed amanuensis of the Jurisdiction, but I bit my forked tongue. Now was not the time to squabble with the sovereign over who was what and what titles I deserved, not while he was so desperately attempting to keep what semblance of order within his fleet that he had left.
I could not blame the crew for being panicked either: wars were practically mythologized now, having been long since rendered obsolete with the rise of the Jurisdiction, and that felt like an eternity ago. Now, either being levied into or joining a ducal naval force was simply another career, more akin to serving as an officer of the law rather than a fully fledged soldier. Minimal training was required, most of it being the technicals of one's duty rather than any kind of combat conditioning, so expecting a fleet to actually be prepared for a combat scenario in a universe where peace was the norm was laughable.
“We are practically blind, Sovereign,” stated the Sok'klar Wayfinder, “our probes are offline, and shipboard graviton displacement sensory arrays have been rendered unreliable at best.”
“What about the particle emission array? Has there been a spike in radioactivity where we were hit?”
The Wayfinder seemed to think for a second, his gelatinous form flexing and morphing a bit before answering. “Affirmative, a jump from negligible to forty billion becquerels along decks A through E-5 on our starboard side.”
“Torpedoes…” the Sovereign hissed, stroking his barbed feelers, “Human Torpedoes. Only those primitives would rely on crude nuclear warheads.” He then turned to his militant leaders on the ship. “Noddos, Rel’ads: organize your phalanxes and prepare to repel boarders. We are bound to be assailed by those rancorous primates, and I want their skulls piled at my feet if they dare set foot on our ship.”
“Your wish is our command, Sovereign,” the two militant commanders spoke as one. Noddos, a large bipedal with multiple sets of curved spines running down his back, a pair of graceful horns sprouting from his head, and multiple rows of sharp teeth in his snout, bowed first, followed by Rel’ads, a marsupial with long saberteeth and thick fur. They both must have been fierce warriors in their own right to each lead a phalanx. They wore thick, semi-powered armor and held dueling polearms alongside their usual plasma casters, and seemed completely unfazed by the situation we were in. As they stomped out of the brightly lit bridge, I let out a quiet squawk of discontentment. “Sovereign, why haven't we jumped again? We are wasting precious time.”
“I am working on it, you spineless beaurocrat!” He warbled back, his feelers tensing in anger, “besides, it's not as if you're the one who will be spilling blood today, amanuensis, so flatten your wretched beak or I shall weld it shut with a plasma torch.
I was about to reply with something indignant, but the ship rocked again, this time causing the lights to flicker and the air to become… thick. The skin under my feathers began to blister, and I became lightheaded and confused. “Seal the damnable vents, initiate radiation scrubbers, and activate secondary life support!” Shouted the Sovereign, “Their nuclear weapons are rendering the ship inhospitable!”
I coughed up magenta blood accidentally, and I could feel more seeping from under my eyes. Some of the crew was in a similar position, but others were more resistant to radiation than I. The Sok'klar seemed completely at ease as he ran his tentacles across his morphic braille arrays before calmly announcing the ship’s status. “I've regained some control over our probes: ten, twelve, and seventeen are active and fully functional, the rest are either still malfunctioning or permanently inoperable. A rapid rise in localized radiation is also interfering with the detection of graviton displacement; we can't sense photon redirection, thus readings will remain inconclusive.
“Wayfinder, damn you, get me some kind of out here! We're easy prey until we can respond in kind!”
“Negative, something has gone awry with our processing hub, I am attempting to troubleshoot-”
And with that, the Wayfinder’s bulbous head exploded in a cascade of opaque lavender blood, covering the front half of the deck crew like a morbid art piece. Some of the crew screamed and shouted in terror before removing their cranial adaptors and choosing to interact with their displays manually. Others died just as quickly, unable to unplug in time as their brain stems fried or their blood boiled. It was a horrible way to go, having your insides neutralized by your own cybernetics, so I was glad I wasn't connected to the system.
“Cybernetic warfare! All systems are to be considered compromised, switch to manual settings or you'll be killed!”
The lights in the bridge flickered again, and the displays went haywire. The bridge crew, which obviously weren't acquainted with working without being hard-linked into the mainframe, moved at a much slower pace.
“Launch missile pods A through F and set to self-target after five hundred kilometers, then rely on their ballistic coordinates to begin firing broadsides! If we can't see the humans due to their meddling, we'll just have to feel them.” Shouted the Sovereign, “and got me a detailed report on the ship’s diagnostics readings. I need to know if this flagship is still capable of escaping or if we'll have to scuttle it and retreat on another.”
“Acknowledged, Sovereign, launching now,” affirmed another deck officer as he swiped across his own gallium output array. I could hear the dull thunk, thunk, thunk of missiles pushing out of their pods before racing off to their intended targets, then the mechanical whirring as the pods rotated to be reloaded by slaves in the lower decks. I was regaining my bearings as the many horrible sensations of being overwhelmed by radiation poisoning were beginning to subside, but I still felt as if I had been microwaved. The air was stale, the crew was horribly sick as well, and even the sovereign himself seemed to be on his last leg. I was beginning to believe that I might die here.
“Sovereign, a message from the lower decks,” shouted a communications officer, his chitin scraping against itself as he turned quickly, “they're requesting reinforcements, something about being overrun.”
“Impossible,” the Sovereign hissed out in a vain attempt to exude confidence, “We must outnumber the humans, they always go for bigger targets out of arrogance.”
“I've received reports that it's not just humans: the primates seem to make up only a third or so of the assailing force, along with some Phaeldaer and Vrex.”
The commander slammed his clawed hands down on his own output array in a fit of rage, obviously overwhelmed by the circumstances, “Then this wasn't just a typical assault, but something more sinister!” The nautiloid warbled, blood seeping from his shell as the full effects of the radiation took hold, “Get Rel’ads on the line, have him divert all spare lances to the lower decks or else we'll lose the only offensive capabilities we can use.”
“Rel'ads has gone dark, Sovereign, his vitals are critical.”
“Then either get me Rel'ads tail-leader or get me Noddos!” He screamed in rage, “don't give me this nonsense! If we don't pick it up we're all going to die, is that what you want?”
“No, Sovereign, I'm simply overwhelmed-”
“We're all overwhelmed! By the tides, I'm dying of radiation poisoning you nincompoop! Get me something I can work with!”
The officer didn't even acknowledge the Sovereign after that, simply turning back to his display. Eventually, the Sovereign was able to get Noddos on the line.
“Sovereign, two thirds of my phalanxes have been decimated by combat with the primitives and the radiation, the rest are in shambles. We must retreat and fortify elsewhere!”
“Then the ship is compromised! Rel'ads is unresponsive and the lower decks are swarming with intruders. We must evacuate the amanuensis to another ship.”
Just as the Sovereign spoke, I heard several gentle thumps rattle against the bridge’s door, and it made me uneasy. Some of the bridge crew seemed to feel the same, as they looked incredibly nervous and some even drew their sidearms. Just as the sovereign turned to give further orders, the door blew inward with a deafening explosion, followed by shouting and gunfire. Several of the bridge officers were dispatched quickly, brain matter and blood splattering against the delicate electronics. Others were shot in the legs, the torso, or in any other exotic yet non-vital body parts. The humans poured in, brandishing primitive ballistic firearms and jury-rigged energy weapons while wearing scavenged, legion-grade powered armor.
The Sovereign was the next to go, but he wasn't afforded an honorable death. He was shot along the arm with a particularly potent plasma caster, burning off his clawed hand and cauterizing the wound, the acrid smell of roasting chitin filling the already hot and cramped bridge. He fell back against his output array, the gallium reaching new highs and lows as more diagnostics and casualty reports were delivered, and he clutched his stump angrily. “I'll burn every last one of you in the foundries! I'll tie you to stakes, cover you in wax and set you alight! Your screams will be broadcasted all over the galaxy!”
One human warrior stomped up and slammed the butt of his rifle into the sovereign’s face, shattering his facial plates and causing blue blood to splatter across his section of the bridge. “Shut the fuck up, you mutant lobster,” the human said before dragging him by both antennae towards the center of the bridge and receiving a stained breeching axe from one of his comrades. “Emmanuel, start recording. We need proof.”
The other human nodded and pressed a button on his armor before lifting up his gun again. The rest of the humans fanned out, holding everyone else at gunpoint. I tried to get up and sneak out, but a human grabbed me by my neck and nearly wrung it out as he forced me to my knees and pointed a sidearm to my skull. “Get down, you piece of shit, before I blow your brains out too.”
“Damnable primate,” I hissed, but he bashed me in my skull with the base of his sidearm’s grip and sent me sprawling, making my already pounding headache worse. Another human shouted at him in a language I didn't recognize, but he sounded furious. The first brought me back up to my knees again, and I complies with a hiss and a groan, blood still leaking from my eyes and mouth and my world was spinning.
The Sovereign struggled, but he was weak from the radiation poisoning and he couldn't exactly resist on account of his lost arm. The human with the breaching ax kicked the Sovereign down and forced him to kneel before lifting up the breeching ax and splitting his chitinous head down the middle with one powerful swing, sending more blood and brains across the floor. “Execution confirmed, take his antennae just in case and we've got ourselves a bounty. Now all we need is that ugly cat’s teeth and the fat hedgehog-thing’s grimy spines and we'll be in business. Although, they do have skulls… we might as well just take their heads.”
The real horror of the situation dawned on me at that moment: they were going to kill us all, or maybe worse. They mentioned a bounty for the commanders, and multiple of the higher ranking ship officers were already dead, their brains splattered against the walls or their bodies torn apart by gunfire. I wasn't dead yet, but that didn't mean much since I wasn't an immediate threat.
“Alright, round them up and bring all the grunts to the hanger bay, then kill the rest,” the leader of the humans said in such a lackadaisical manner that his complete disregard for life almost made me sick… almost. I had seen worse from the Jurisdiction before, but usually that was from me delivering some kind of ordered judgment on a world that had sinned against order. I might have simply been the messenger, but I had seen many of the outcomes. “And make sure to collect whatever proof of bounties you can, we'll need to deliver them to the office to get cashed out. Don't let this be a repeat of last time where Juarez fucking forgot to take a few heads and it ended up cutting our profits in half, the fucking retard.”
Some of the humans chuckled at that as they dragged more of the senior officers away, out of the room and into the hall,where I heard gunshots. The rest of the bridge crew froze in place, different fear instincts kicking in. The remaining Sok'klar corralled together into what seemed to be a singular, semi-congealed mass as if to try and trick the humans into believing that they were much bigger and much more threatening than they actually were. The one Thei’chi on the bridge, an ensign who had clearly thought this would be a simple mission, bore her curved fangs at the humans and growled as they approached, her hackles completely vertical and her eyes dilated. They quickly muzzled and bound her before beating her over the head with a gun stock, sending her sprawling onto the ground. Many others simply cooperated, eyes wide and yet simultaneously empty, as if they couldn't quite process that the ship had been taken and the commanding officers were being executed as the rest were escorted to the hangar.
“Get the damn messenger down to the hanger as well, we need whatever data's in his ugly lizard head, then we can decide on what to do with him.”
I spat at him in spite, as if to try and seem brave, but it was clearly an empty gesture. “You won't get anything, primate! You couldn't possibly crack the encryption!”
The human holding me seemed to wind up for another swing, but the commanding officer simply held up his hand to stop my tormentor before strolling over to me. He knelt down and removed his helmet, revealing a beige-colored face covered in scars, wiry black hair cut down to the scalp, and multiple tattoos. “You're really fucking mouthy for a hostage,” he said before punching me across my beak faster than I could register. I heard a sharp crack as his fist connected, and my head spun again as the metallic taste of blood pooled into my mouth. “I'd advise you to shut up, but I'm sure you won't listen: you aristocratic types are so full of yourselves. Maybe I should have you flogged in the public square until your vocal chords give out once we rip those cybernetics from your head, huh? How's that sound?”
“It won't matter… it won't change anything… the Jurisdiction will hunt you down.”
“Maybe, but I doubt it will happen for some time: they really suck at doing anything that requires effort, even when they're mad enough. They just keep sending their rabid lapdogs to try and smoke us out, and they always end up full of holes,” the human officer said with a smirk, his yellowish-white teeth and green eyes sending shivers down my spine as he drew his knife. “They're just horrible at their job, you know? You've all gotten so lazy and incompetent after being able to just take what you want without resistance, and now that you've met people who are angry and crazy enough to fight back you act as if we're committing some grave injustice,” he placed the knife against my throat, the flat just underneath my now bent beak, “No, we just took a few pages out of your book, ‘cept we've got standards. No kids, for one…” he seemed to look off into the distance as his sneer deepened, “but it's more than that, we don't attack the defenseless in general and we still win against you all in fair fights.”
I went to say something else snarky, but he quickly grabbed my thin tongue with his fingers and yanked it out, blood from my mouth pulling to the floor as he held the blade of his knife against it. “No no, none of that. Say one more thing and I'll cut that rancid little tongue of yours out of your mouth and feed it to you,” he hissed at me, pressing the blade down just hard enough to draw blood. “Do you know what it's like to see a planet turn into a tomb?" he asked me, gritting his teeth, “Do you know what it's like to see everything you've ever known crumble to ash and glass, all the life and the green stripped away leaving nothing but bones? I do. I've seen it happen to countless worlds, and my grandfather always told me stories of how you bastards did it to Earth. He still prays in its direction five times a day, to Mecca, but he knows the Kaaba is gone now, or maybe it's still there, buried in the bones of those who sought refuge there.”
I didn't care for the human’s nonsensical beliefs, but I did care to correct him. “I've seen it before, and I'll see it again. And so will you, it's inevitable. The Jurisdiction will always have its judgment fulfilled, there is no alternative.”
“One day, I hope we can rectify that,” he said, then he sheathed his knife and slammed my head against the metal floor with enough force to nearly knock me out. As I lost consciousness, I could hear him speak. “Take him to the Chop Doc, and make sure the cybernetics don't get damaged: they're supposedly more valuable than any bounty on this ship.”
Warning: Severe radiation poisoning detected. Flush system immediately.
Warning: Neural Lace removal detected, chance of neurological damage high. Proceeded with caution.