2008 chevy trailblazer tire size
10/06/2023
2023.06.10 12:29 createdjustforthis23 10/06/2023
It’s very very chilly this morning but I was so comfy and cosy when I woke up, I love that feeling so much. I woke up feeling less anxious this morning after yesterday which felt like such a relief. I don’t have that entirely tensed up body feeling. I really should get some foam rollers, apparently it will help with the physical side of my head. I just feel so poor lately, therapy costs so much and groceries cost a blimmin fortune and idk. I just feel a little broke.
I wonder if there’s any point to me journaling, I just say the same stuff every day.
Maybe I should end things with Andy? I feel like I should. I don’t want to but I think I should. Shouldn’t I? Is it selfish that I don’t? But I don’t want to? If he wanted to end things then he knows how. I’ll just focus on that.
I wish I could photoshop myself. I wish I could just hack at myself and make a new me. Maybe I could get some kind of magical pegs that hold my eyes open and magically make them stay bigger. A magical machete where I could slice off any softer parts of le and I’d be left super lean and toned and super skinny. Skinny enough to be smaller than him. I’d slice off my hips, my ass and my boobs and then have a more elegant shape, a more lithe figure. I don’t care that little waist and curvy hips are desirable, mine make me look and feel matronly. I hate them and I always have. I would make my lips bigger and poutier. I would make my nose smaller and narrower. I would get new eyebrows altogether. I would bind my feet til they were several sizes smaller, he said I have huge feet and laughed at me, he wouldn’t have done that if I had dainty little feet. I detest my appearance so much it genuinely hurts. I remember being a little girl and having these same thoughts, always violent wishes to change myself, hack myself to bits in a bid to be better. I am so disgusted and ashamed of myself. And I don’t even have a stellar personality to make up for it. Or ambition and a career. Or love and friends. Nor am I fearless and travel the world. I have nothing. I am nothing. I am so sick to fucking death of myself. I wish so much that I could just cease to exist. I am filled with so much hatred towards myself and it’s tiring and it hurts and I can’t imagine ever seeing myself any other way unless I change all these problems. I AM SO SICK OF MYSELF.
Mum texted me today saying she’d found one of my notes in her notebook I gave her for Christmas, she seemed very happy and nicely surprised and it made me feel nice. It’s how I know Andy’s never read or probably even opened any books or whatever I’ve ever given him which is totally fine tbh. I didn’t ever want him to see them sooner than later, they’re the kinds of things I want him to randomly come across months and years from now, y’know? Like a little memory of our time at the moment and how loved he still was before we were ever properly together. Anyway it’s okay, I kind of hope he doesn’t find them for awhile yet anyway. Plus also maybe I shouldn’t have done that because we’ll be sharing a big bookshelf one day and what if we lend someone something and they come across these soppy notes? How embarrassing for us both. I guess if we don’t end up together the. they’ll also be notes his future partners might come across, would he be mad at me for that? For them seeing that? Maybe. Would it matter by then? No. He’ll just say something like oh it’s this psycho girl from the past and laugh about me like he did the other one. I’ll just become another story like her. Or perhaps more likely he’ll pretend like I never existed. I think if we end things that’s what I will do, we were never together, he wouldn’t be an ex, he’d just be a stranger. No I don’t think I would mention him to future partners, what’s the point? What would I say? “Yes I fell in love with someone and he eventually became fed up with me and left and I thought he was the one and I was an idiot and I was wrong but I’ll probably still think about him and love him a little bit til I’m dead in the ground so that’s that do ya still want me?” - no, I will not say that. I will say “yeah I’ve been single for ages” and just face that humiliation instead. It would just be easier to never date again tbh. What’s the point anyway, it’s inevitable a man will end up resenting me for not being better anyway and I’ll end up heartbroken.
I’m going to stop journaling for awhile, I’m in a very woe is me frame of mind and it’s not beneficial for me in any way and I need to snap out of it so I’m going to do a workout, wash my bedding and read my book. I need to SNAP OUT OF THIS. I know better than this. I am better than this. I will not be this.
I feel better. It’s… some time later. I did a workout which made me sweat a lot and turn into a beetroot. Not a tomato, a beetroot. I have racks on racks of laundry up drying now. I had a super quick body shower. I’m now reading on the sofa and contemplating a late lunch. I don’t want to eat and I know it’s because I want to punish myself and because I’m having a more hate filled day towards myself than usual but I also know that cycle of eating is bad for me and is a reason I out on weight and so I need to break that cycle but I just want to not eat because it makes me feel better but I know I should.
submitted by createdjustforthis23 to u/createdjustforthis23 [link] [comments]
I wonder if there’s any point to me journaling, I just say the same stuff every day.
Maybe I should end things with Andy? I feel like I should. I don’t want to but I think I should. Shouldn’t I? Is it selfish that I don’t? But I don’t want to? If he wanted to end things then he knows how. I’ll just focus on that.
I wish I could photoshop myself. I wish I could just hack at myself and make a new me. Maybe I could get some kind of magical pegs that hold my eyes open and magically make them stay bigger. A magical machete where I could slice off any softer parts of le and I’d be left super lean and toned and super skinny. Skinny enough to be smaller than him. I’d slice off my hips, my ass and my boobs and then have a more elegant shape, a more lithe figure. I don’t care that little waist and curvy hips are desirable, mine make me look and feel matronly. I hate them and I always have. I would make my lips bigger and poutier. I would make my nose smaller and narrower. I would get new eyebrows altogether. I would bind my feet til they were several sizes smaller, he said I have huge feet and laughed at me, he wouldn’t have done that if I had dainty little feet. I detest my appearance so much it genuinely hurts. I remember being a little girl and having these same thoughts, always violent wishes to change myself, hack myself to bits in a bid to be better. I am so disgusted and ashamed of myself. And I don’t even have a stellar personality to make up for it. Or ambition and a career. Or love and friends. Nor am I fearless and travel the world. I have nothing. I am nothing. I am so sick to fucking death of myself. I wish so much that I could just cease to exist. I am filled with so much hatred towards myself and it’s tiring and it hurts and I can’t imagine ever seeing myself any other way unless I change all these problems. I AM SO SICK OF MYSELF.
Mum texted me today saying she’d found one of my notes in her notebook I gave her for Christmas, she seemed very happy and nicely surprised and it made me feel nice. It’s how I know Andy’s never read or probably even opened any books or whatever I’ve ever given him which is totally fine tbh. I didn’t ever want him to see them sooner than later, they’re the kinds of things I want him to randomly come across months and years from now, y’know? Like a little memory of our time at the moment and how loved he still was before we were ever properly together. Anyway it’s okay, I kind of hope he doesn’t find them for awhile yet anyway. Plus also maybe I shouldn’t have done that because we’ll be sharing a big bookshelf one day and what if we lend someone something and they come across these soppy notes? How embarrassing for us both. I guess if we don’t end up together the. they’ll also be notes his future partners might come across, would he be mad at me for that? For them seeing that? Maybe. Would it matter by then? No. He’ll just say something like oh it’s this psycho girl from the past and laugh about me like he did the other one. I’ll just become another story like her. Or perhaps more likely he’ll pretend like I never existed. I think if we end things that’s what I will do, we were never together, he wouldn’t be an ex, he’d just be a stranger. No I don’t think I would mention him to future partners, what’s the point? What would I say? “Yes I fell in love with someone and he eventually became fed up with me and left and I thought he was the one and I was an idiot and I was wrong but I’ll probably still think about him and love him a little bit til I’m dead in the ground so that’s that do ya still want me?” - no, I will not say that. I will say “yeah I’ve been single for ages” and just face that humiliation instead. It would just be easier to never date again tbh. What’s the point anyway, it’s inevitable a man will end up resenting me for not being better anyway and I’ll end up heartbroken.
I’m going to stop journaling for awhile, I’m in a very woe is me frame of mind and it’s not beneficial for me in any way and I need to snap out of it so I’m going to do a workout, wash my bedding and read my book. I need to SNAP OUT OF THIS. I know better than this. I am better than this. I will not be this.
I feel better. It’s… some time later. I did a workout which made me sweat a lot and turn into a beetroot. Not a tomato, a beetroot. I have racks on racks of laundry up drying now. I had a super quick body shower. I’m now reading on the sofa and contemplating a late lunch. I don’t want to eat and I know it’s because I want to punish myself and because I’m having a more hate filled day towards myself than usual but I also know that cycle of eating is bad for me and is a reason I out on weight and so I need to break that cycle but I just want to not eat because it makes me feel better but I know I should.
2023.06.10 10:58 akumspharma The year 2023 looks promising for India's pharmaceutical business, with a greater emphasis on quality production, medicine availability, and the embrace of technological advancements.
 | submitted by akumspharma to u/akumspharma [link] [comments] www.akums.in Table of Content An Introduction Indian pharmaceutical industry Akums Drugs and Pharmaceuticals Ltd. An Introduction The pharmaceutical industry is a very important sector that is responsible for the research, development, manufacturing, and distribution of drugs, vaccines, and medical devices to prevent and treat various diseases and health conditions. According to the latest reports, the global pharmaceutical market size was estimated in 2020 to be very huge as compared to other markets and is expected to grow at a compound annual growth rate (CAGR) of 8.5% from 2021 to 2028. The industry faces several challenges, including increasing regulation, patent expirations, generic competition, research and development costs, pricing pressures, and supply chain disruptions. However, pharmaceutical companies continue to invest heavily in research and development to bring innovative medications to market and meet the growing demand for healthcare products worldwide. In recent years, the industry has also come under scrutiny for high drug prices, unfair business practices, and the opioid epidemic. As a result, governments, healthcare providers, and patients are increasingly demanding more transparency, affordability, and accountability from the pharmaceutical industry. Dealing with all the technicalities and concerns, contract manufacturing is assisting them immensely. Indian pharmaceutical industry India is already a global hub for the production of generic drugs and APIs (Active Pharmaceutical Ingredients), and this trend is set to continue in the years to come.One major factor that will drive growth in the sector is the increasing focus on quality production. The Indian government has been proactive in improving the manufacturing standards of pharmaceutical products, and this has led to better quality control and adherence to international regulatory standards. Another factor that will contribute to the growth of the Indian pharmaceutical industry is the increase in medicine availability. India has a large population, and there is an increasing demand for essential medicines that are affordable and accessible. In addition, the Indian pharmaceutical industry is embracing technological advancements such as artificial intelligence, machine learning, and big data analytics. These technologies are being used to improve drug discovery, optimize manufacturing processes, and enhance the overall efficiency of the industry. The Indian pharmaceutical industry is poised for growth in the coming years, with a focus on quality production, increased medicine availability, and the adoption of technological advancements. This will not only benefit the domestic market but also contribute to India's position as a global leader in the pharmaceutical industry. The major contribution in this sector is governed by pharmaceutical contract manufacturers who have supported the industry integrally and have now become an essential part of the industry. Akums Drugs and Pharmaceuticals Ltd. Akums Drugs and Pharmaceuticals Ltd. is a WHO-GMP certified world famous and trailblazer pharmaceutical contract manufacturer recognized for its quality approach, prompt availability, scalability, and a grip on technological advancement. They keep an eye on the latest trends in the market and get the same adopted in full spring quickly and rapidly. Sometimes they are the one who introduces newness owing benefits for mankind. Adapting to the latest innovation and catering to market demands swiftly are the features of Akums that it outshines in the pharmaceutical industry. Key Takeaways · The pharmaceutical industry is a very important sector that is responsible for the research, development, manufacturing, and distribution of drugs, vaccines, and medical devices to prevent and treat various diseases and health conditions. · Akums Drugs and Pharmaceuticals Ltd. is a WHO-GMP certified world famous and trailblazer pharmaceutical contract manufacturer recognized for their quality approach, prompt availability, scalability, and a grip on technological advancement. |
2023.06.10 10:57 Badgerbits Copy of Lokean and Loki worship resources and reading list
A short selection to get people started on their Lokean journey or to answer questions for non-Lokeans. Please submit other resources to the subreddit so it can be included in this list
Queer Loki reading list
Mod post: It’s not upg or controversial to call Loki queer or lgbtqa here](https://www.reddit.com/lokean/comments/rhsih7/mod_post_its_not_upg_or_controversial_to_call/) mod post
Offerings, Altars, Crafts, Symbols, Herbs, Animals, Prayers
Old Tales
submitted by Badgerbits to QueerLokeans [link] [comments]
Queer Loki reading list
Mod post: It’s not upg or controversial to call Loki queer or lgbtqa here](https://www.reddit.com/lokean/comments/rhsih7/mod_post_its_not_upg_or_controversial_to_call/) mod post
- Loki’s gender fluidity and bisexuality in Norse mythology and in modern adaptations academia
- Loki: Thoughts on the Nature of the God, a Queer Reading academia
- Queer Themes In Old Norse Myth (MLitt Dissertation) academia
- The Marriage of Þorr: Violence and Transformation Queer Disrupt: Mystical Transformations - Gender in Mythology and the Occult, a academia
- Why my Gods are Queer blog post (sadly broken link if you’re the author it was a great post) https://web.archive.org/web/20201101080941/https://www.historicaloracle.ca/post/why-my-gods-are-queer
- An examination of gender in viking age Scandinavia blog post
- Kennings, Heiti, and Other Alternate Names for Loki - blog post
- Queer Ancestor Veneration rituals and Poems blog post
- Queer Deities in Northern Paganism blog post (sadly another broken link sorry.)
- What Loki thinks of LGBT blog post
- Queer Loki poem blog post
- Queer Asgard Folk blog post
- Vikings are Gay history podcast podcast
- Bury Your Gays: queer readings of Viking Age material culture academia
- Intersex Conditions in the Viking Age academia
- Gender Bending In Viking, Ancient Greek, And Egyptian mythology blog post
- Óðinn: A Queer tyr? A Study of Óðinn's Function in Iron Age Scandinavia. MA thesis academia
- Lokeans what we really look like
- Lokean Welcoming Committee FAQ
- What is a Lokean?
- Godspouse FAQ
- Reading List and resources
- Reading List 2
- Self-care and Wellbeing List
- So you want to worship the heathen gods and not be a racist?
- Recognizing fascism in Heathenry. Dog Whistles and subtle ideologies
- Fascist Pagan Watch on Galina and Raven and statement by a ex-follower of theirs
- Community Post: Warning signs of Spiritual Abuse and bullying
Offerings, Altars, Crafts, Symbols, Herbs, Animals, Prayers
- Kennings, Heiti, and Other Alternate Names for Loki
- Lokean Welcoming Committee - Offering Recipes
- How to set up an Altar
- The Simple Beauty of Rock Art Altars
- Lokean Altar Gallery
- what kinds of food does Loki like? I heard he likes spicy things, but I'm not sure if that's just a UPG
- How does one blot?
- Lokean arts and crafts
- Loki Offerings Questions
- I have a question about devotional clothing and jewelry.
- Loki Poems and Prayers
- Small Devotional Acts to Loki
- Loki Plants for spells and worship
- La Vida Loka – El primer blog lokeano en español
- Symbols for Loki
- Animals associated with Loki
- July, Sirius, and Loki known as Lokabrenna (Lokis Torch) the star’s movements in July are celebrated as a time for Loki rituals.
- Loki’s Holiday — Dec. 13th
- Devotional Days of Yule- Dec 23rd – Loki and Sigyn
- Loki Sponge Cake Day - Sept 4th
- Question: Does Loki have a season he favors? Like is he associated with a season of any kind
- Loki Mischief Day April 1st
- Ranting Recon: What Are The Heathen Holidays?
- Communication with Gods
- Developing the Godphone
- Talking to Loki: Communication and Discernment Reference Post
- Talking to Loki
- Thoughts and methods: Communicating with Loki
- When Godphones Ring – Discernment for Pagans
- Means of Divination
- Gods and Pendulum
- Fire Scrying Ritual
- Fire: A Guided Visualisation
- Druid Grove guided meditation
- Tasseography Symbol Meanings for Reading Coffee or Tea Leaves (and clouds)
- The magic wands of Viking seeresses?
- A Pocket Guide to Runes
- Taking Up The Runes: A Complete Guide To Using Runes In Spells, Rituals, Divination, And Magic
- Runes and magic
- Trolldom - Spells and Methods of the Norse Magic Tradition
- Spådom and divination in the Norse Trolldom tradition
- Questions about Oaths and commitment
- Hi. I know you have talked a lot about oaths, but I wonder... What are really the dangers of breaking one?
- Sorry for my ignorance, but what are oaths? Are they some sort of promise? Could you do one unknowingly?
- What does it mean to be bonded with Loki?
- Breaking Lokis Bonds ritual
- Question: Can you tell me what Lokean rituals there are and what they consist of please?
- Lokasenda Ritual
- Lokean Washing Charm
- UPG: Bowl holding ritual
Old Tales
- Getting started with Norse Mythology
- Translations of old sagas and eddas
- Icelandic Sagas
- The Eddas and Sagas on Sacred Texts.
- The Danish History of Saxo Grammaticus.
- Loka Táttur- Loki’s Heroic Tale from The Faroe Islands
- Thor and Jormungandr fight creates a lake in Holland. Origin of the Uddeler and Pale Lake
- Grumpy Lokean Elders Free book day. Contains academic journals and Old Tales
- Hel zine
- Loki Attestations in old myth
- Útgarða-Loki
- Kennings, Heiti, and Other Alternate Names for Loki
- Guys…We Need to Talk About “The Eddas”
- How do you reconcile Loki (as part of the Aesir)
- Sigyn: Lady of Oblation and Victory
- ‘This Lokeans view of Loki’
- Possible corroboration for Loki-worship back in the day
- Are there any symbols used specifically for Loki with historical proof?
- Hi! I was thinking on buying an Uppakra mask pendant (It's supposed to represent Loki) but some people belive it can be Odin too. Do you have any information about it?
- Evidence of Loki’s Worship?
- Loki in Fjölvinsmál: Lævateinn and Lýr
- When They come courting: Spirit marriage and related relationships: Spirit Marriage and Godspousery in Lore, History, and Contemporary Practice
- What did the Viking really look like? Red hair and make up
- Could you point me in the direction of any specific posts or other resources you know of (if any) that focus around being non-binary and having a connection with Loki?
- So I have herd and I'm not sure where, that Loki is considered a hearth deity in some fashion. Is there anywhere that can be found showing it as a credible source?
- Why do so many people hate Loki?
- Hello! Maybe a silly question, but would working with one deity e.g. Loki prevent you from working with another in the future e.g Frigg, especially if they didn't get on in the Eddas?
- These are people whose blogs are safe spaces within the Pagan and Heathen communities.
- Loki University
- The newest Loki papers on Academia.edu
- ”Loki, the Vätte, and the Ash Lad: A Study Combining Old Scandinavian and Late Material
- The Flying Noaidi of the North: Sámi Tradition Reflected in the Figure Loki Laufeyjarson in Old Norse Mythology page 59
- The Old Norse theonym Sígyn (*seikʷ-n̥-iéh₂- ‘she of the pouring’), Vedic Sanskrit °sécanī- ‘pouring’, the Celtic river-name and theonym Sēquana (present-day river Seine, France) and Proto-Indo-European *seikʷ- ‘pour’ [Loki and Fire, n.2]
- Lokrur, Lóðurr and Late Evidence
- A Little Bit of Lokrur: A Portion of an Old Icelandic Mythological Poem and a New English Translation
- The Old Norse dwarf-name Brokkr, Sanskrit Bhr̥gu- and Proto-Indo-European *(s)bʰr̥(h₂)g- 'crackle, roar' (Greek βαρυ-σφάραγος : Vedic giri-bhráj- ‘heavy-roaring’; ἀνεμο-σφάραγος : vā́ta-bhrajas- ‘with roaring of wind(s)’; σφαραγέομαι : sphūrjáya- : bhūrjáya- ‘crackle, sizzle’) Loki and Fire, n.1
- The Water Dragon and the Snake Witch. Two Vendel Period Picture Stones from Gotland, Sweden. Jormungandr
- Lokemasken - Var Loke en beskytter?
- Loki, a Fire Spirit?
- Heathen History Podcast
- Gifts of the Wyrd:Loki
- Who Is Loki?
- How I learned to Stop Worrying and Love Þetta Reddast
- Pronunciation of Old Norse (Medieval / Reconstructed)
- Vikings are Gay history podcast
- Polytheism While Dealing With Mental Illness
- Spiritual Abuse Red-Flags
- Mental Health support and Suicide Prevention
- Support for those with Eating Disorders
- How to support someone with a mental health problem
- Planning for a crisis
- BLM, NAACP and ACLU protesters rights advice
- Tools for helping Racial Equality
- Mutual Aid groups for Covid Support
- Stop Asian Hate Resources
- Confronting Racism in Heathenry
- Hate on Display™ Hate Symbols Database
- Heathens Against Hate
- LGBTQA+ glossary of terms
- You Can Stop Appropriation of Indigenous Cultures
- Decolonial Futures Workshop - Why I Can’t Hold Space for You Anymore
- Bringing Race to the Table: Exploring Racism in the Pagan Community - by Crystal Blanton
- Shades of Ritual: Minority Voices in Practice by Crystal Blanton
- Jailbreaking the Goddess: A Radical Revisioning of Feminist Spirituality by Lasara Firefox Allen
- Ancient Spirit Rising: Reclaiming Your Roots & Restoring Earth Community by Pegi Eyers
- The Way of Fire and Ice: The Living Tradition of Norse Paganism - Ryan Smith
- Open Discussion - Balancing chronic health management, neurodiversity, and being a Lokean
2023.06.10 09:20 HughEhhoule Finding Art Part 3: Infinite Oldsmobile
Link to part 2
https://www.reddit.com/nosleep/comments/13qcl3m/the_big_rock_candy_mountain_book_2_finding/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=android_app&utm_name=androidcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button
Well, this is going to be a little different.
First thing I want to say is that Kev will be back. I’m not the type to sugar coat things, he’s in a pretty sorry state, but he’s going to pull through. He’s a tough bastard.
In case you haven’t clued in yet, it’s Mike, I might not be as much of a wordsmith as Kev but I think I can keep your interest.
She was about five foot four, pale greasy skin and pitch colored hair that was just about to cross the double line from shiny into gross. Early thirties I’d guess, but with the strange shit Kev and I have gotten ourselves into she could be a million, or put together yesterday for all I know.
She was a “ Shame Monger” which was as esoteric of a job title as it sounds, and the first context me and my little buddy had on our current assignment.
The place we’re in is an old, decrepit arcade, I’m surrounded by shadowy figures sticking to the dark recesses like insects.
Kev is somewhere deep within the place sticking his neck out with God knows what ( I mean, I do as well, but I’ll let Kevin relay shit when he’s up to it.), and I’m making small talk.
“You human? “ I say, she’s not offended but raises an eyebrow.
“Are you? “ She has an edge to her, human or not, she’s seen some shit.
I laugh, running a hand over the branded lines mimicking clown patterns Art left me with after that stay in his gulag.
“Sometimes I forget about the braille.
Yeah, %100 sadly. “ I lean on the counter as I speak.
“Me too, you haven’t been working with the watchers long, have you? “ She sounds concerned, “ I’d suggest finding a new job. They have a bit of a reputation. “
“Long enough. “ I’m wary now, information is a resource I’m not willing to part with easily.
I don’t think she’s wrong, mind you, every day I spend with these wizards by another name, I like them less and less. Being sent with Kev, Jr, and the voices in my head, wandering across the country to find something called “The Fleshsmith”, is the best case scenario in my opinion. Gives me some breathing room.
“How do does one deal in shame? “ I say after a long silence. The glitched beeping of the machines becoming grating.
“Not as spooky as you’d think.
You play airsoft? I’m Tori by the way. “ Tori says, lighting up a small black cigar.
“Never got the bug, but I’ve heard of it, and I’m Mike. “ I reply.
“Well Mike, I play, and it’s a great hobby. Lots of physical activity, lots of equipment to learn about, it’s got something for everyone. For the most part, it’s an exciting activity .
But, think of the factory that makes the plastic ammunition. It’s integral, but it’s cheap, easy to make, monotonous, and far removed from any of the interesting facets of the hobby.
That’s me. I brush up against all kinds of folks, but besides the little wrinkle your friend is dealing with, all of the real spooky shit is well past arm’s length. “ she coughs, the thick, cherry scented smoke hangs in rings, “ It’s a living. “
“Honestly, I couldn’t be happier.
I hear ‘ Shame Monger’ and I was thinking torture, and, I don’t know, ghosts maybe? “ I shrug, motioning for one of the cigarellos.
She gives me one, it tastes of rose and a rich, almost syrup like tobacco.
“Sorry to disappoint. No, extraction is pretty painless, uses a kind of blotter paper. And to the best of my knowledge, ghosts aren’t a thing.
As I said, things are safe and boring. “ Tori says, taking a seat on a black waist high stool.
I let her statement hang for a moment.
“So what’s with the big guy trying to blend in, waiting for me to leave the counter? And why did he come with 2 friends and a running engine? “ I say, low but casual.
I can tell she’s annoyed at my insight.
“That’s nothing horror adjacent. Just a good old fashioned shake down, cost of doing business.
He doesn’t know exactly what goes on here, but him and his associates know it’s profitable enough they can squeeze ten grand out of me a month. “ Tori shrugs, putting out her cigar.
“You can’t give someone a discount to rattle their cage? “ I ask, curious.
“Listen to you. “ Tori laughs, “If your butcher asked you to get shot for them, would you jump at the chance? “
I make eye contact, I can’t help but smirk.
“I’ve gotten shot for less. “ My comment gets a sideways look.
“Mike, I’m seeing you, and I’ve got to say, kinda seems like you’re full of shit. “ Her reply is harsh, but I can’t blame her. I’m dressed like salesman, facial scars or no.
I don’t reply. I walk to the grimy, dim, wet floored men’s room.
Someone who chooses my line of work doesn’t get into it because they have great impulse control. And unfortunately, I’m not unique .
Since I’ve got here, I’ve felt scared, small, ineffective. I know you guys have seen Kevin’s point of view on things, and it makes me seem like some kind of wrecking ball, but that is 50 per cent showmanship, 30 per cent planning and 20 per cent not caring if I lose a piece or two.
But this situation, some low rent semi-connected asshole who thinks he’s Don Corleone? It calls to me.
The clothing I wear is designed to be reversable, and with a few adjustments, I’m no longer wearing a cheap looking used car salesman’s suit, but an antique tuxedo with a 1940s design.
The mirror is grimy as hell, I try to clear a spot, but the sad, octogenarian Esque flow from the tap isn’t up to the task.
But it’s clear enough to reflect him, standing behind me. I jump, and my heart starts to pound.
“Not the time for this. “ I say, pacing.
I try to look away, but there he is, in the corner of my vision, each time. I’d close my eyes, but that’s what he wants, he gets closer when I can’t see.
For a half second my vision is taken up by a crystal clear image of his face. That angular, pale visage inhuman by any standard, but haunting in it’s echoes of a past rooted in mortality.
I stumble backward, slamming into the wall. Panting, my eyes locked on his almost-there form.
He’s tall, wicked, and everything about him exudes power. He’s taken to looking like me more and more lately. But a twisted, malignant reflection, what I could be if I let this pulp novel of a corner of reality have it’s way with me.
“Fuck off Demi! “ I say, getting to my feet, “ I’ve got shit to do. “
Still don’t know if he is just another hallucination, or who he says he is, but Demi and myself are on pretty poor terms as of late.
I hear the bodyless old ghoul whispering what I assume are dark threats as I open a small tube of what I like to refer to as ‘Mike’s Mix’.
A combination of preparation H, topical anesthetic, and just a hint of clown white. Laugh if you want, but it stops a hell of a lot of incidental injuries in my line of work.
Demi starts to fade and I see what I can of myself in the dull mirror.
I’m a little too old for the phrase, but I’m sure a lot of you folks out there would refer to the cliché spook I’ve cultivated as “Cringe”.
I don’t disagree.
But, it’s the game I have to play right now. I’m not some invincible cursed killer, but you know what, I can certainly play one on T.V.
(Did I just try to relate to kids, then make a joke from a 40 year old commercial? This is why Kev does the writing.)
I walk out of the bathroom, reeking of fear sweat and tainted water. The foot and a half lucite rod is tucked up my sleeve, I tap the end of it against the wall as I walk.
The guy is six feet, easily, he’s fifty or so, but making up for it with trips to the gym and a few friendly doctors if I don’t miss my guess.
He doesn’t take the bait, just keeps talking to Tori, once he looks to me, I can tell he is asking her who I am, she’s smart, she shrugs after looking over.
I had an entire plan where I would embarrass the man, get him to send some guys, and make things so costly he just gave up on Tori. It’s a classic, but if it ain’t broke and all that.
But plans, like the people that make them, tend to fail at the worst times.
Once I get within striking distance, the guy turns, his speed isn’t supernatural, but a lot more than I was expecting. His punch lands well enough that I don’t remember starting to fall.
The second finishes the job before I can get my bearings.
The darkness creeps in and in it’s peace I realize how stupid it was to go in this half cocked. I was jonesing for a fight I could win so badly, I went in without a plan B.
I need someone to reign me in, back home it was Eli, here, it’s Kev. As the last bits of conscious thought leave me, I feel bad about leaving him alone.
It's the stifling heat that wakes me up, before my vision clears I smell hot, cheap leather, old vomit and years worth of attempts to mask the smell.
I’m soaked in sweat, the air is like a sauna. I’m sitting in the back of a car, I wouldn’t call it a limo, but it’s clearly built for comfort, in optimal circumstances. There’s a tinted glass partition separating me from the front seat, it’s cracked slightly, I try to tell if anyone is there, but have no luck.
“Can’t say this is a new experience. “ I say, to whoever may be listening.
I try kicking out the windows and the partition, they don’t budge a millimeter.
“If you are up for talking things over, I’m game. “ I try to pry the overhead light loose, and that’s when I notice it.
It's a note, in a thick plastic sleeve, wrapped around my forearm and stuck with some kind of adhesive.
The pain is horrible, made all the worse by the constant pouring of sweat literally putting salt into the wound.
Said wound isn’t deep, a few layers of skin down, enough to weep blood, but far away from pouring. But if this kills me, it won’t be exsanguination. Depending on how long, whoever, plans on keeping me in here, I worry about infection, necrosis, pretty much all the members of the Untreated Wound crew.
I take off the suit jacket, and tear it into strips to use as makeshift bandages, I have a feeling I’ll be needing plenty by the time this is over.
My left arm is slow and clumsy as I open the envelope. I hope it’s just shock, or swelling, not nerve damage.
It reads:
Hey, Dracula, or whatever the hell you are.
Fuck yourself, you think we don’t have ways of taking care of your kind?
Have Fun
Niko Ferang
“Well, can’t say the guy isn’t succinct. “ I say, laughing.
If I just went up to the guy with a threat and a pipe, I’d have either won or lost, and that’d be the end of it. But my genius self succeeded in convincing him I was scary enough to toss me… here.
It dawns on me that there is something obvious I haven’t tried.
As I pull the latch on the passenger side door, something inside me tells me to stop.
Visually, I can’t really describe what it looked like opening the door. The brief period before I saw what was beyond was the visual equivalent of trying to catch a greased pig.
I was left with a view, an identical car interior. The other car parked impossibly close, Their doors seeming to blend with their exteriors.
I enter, as a great man once said “Buy the ticket, take the ride. “, and my dumb ass need for assurance, bought me one hell of a ride.
Once I get in, the driver’s side door closes, and I find myself in the same sweltering heat, in the same backseat.
The damp leather sticks to my arms, I start to calculate how much water I’m losing by the minute, and the math scares the hell out of me.
I try going through the door a few more times, but the more I do, the more I realize, it’s the same car.
The fear becomes as oppressive as the wet heat, I’ve researched a hell of a lot of things from the watchers library, but infinite Oldsmobiles didn’t come up.
I’ve been disarmed, but left with my phone, and wallet. I’m kind of impressed they managed to find 99 per cent of the equipment I can hide in a suit, but hey, %1 is better than nothing.
The phone makes a useless bludgeon, I quickly retire the idea, and figure, even neutered as it is ( I find I can get online, but little else.), it’s better doing phone things than broken.
The good news is frighteningly slim.
I’ve got a few feet of polymar tarp, folded in the wallet, useful for a lot of things, but most important in my situation will be trying to get some kind of drinking water.
An emergency credit card knife, barely useful little thing, won’t do me any good in a fight, but might be a useful tool.
Three strike anywhere matches, a small hook and length of fishing line.
My lips are cracked and bleeding, it can’t have been more than an hour or two, but I’m starting to feel heat exhaustion set in.
I think I’ve found something when the knife sinks into the thin leather of the overstuffed backseat, but the shoddy blade encounters some kind of solid matter, and as I pull the knife out, the leather seals itself.
I stay still, trying to conserve energy, trying to formulate some plan.
He sits beside me now, his looming hunched frame bent in the confines of the car. His face is a blur, but I know beneath the shadows he's smirking.
“I’m way too tired for you Demi. “ I say, wiping what feels like a liter of sweat from my forehead.
His repeating, echoing laughter proves me wrong, I shiver, despite the brutal heat.
It can’t have been more than a few degrees, bit It feels like getting splashed with ice water.
The light in the car begins to dim, and with it, the soul crushing temperature of the luxury automobile drops.
I scramble to set up the tarp, I was banking on this, without some kind of temperature drop, the plastic sheet is useless.
Within an hour droplets have began to create a small stream, collecting at the cone shaped tip of the suspended tarp. Lacking anything to put it into, I catch the liquid in my mouth.
It's foul, and likely contaminated, but it’s my only option. If I’m stuck in here a week I can get by without food, brutalized by heat, I won’t make it 2 days without water.
I feel exhausted, wondering exactly how long I’ve been stuck here I check the time on my phone.
It’s almost random progression does nothing to comfort the surreal sense of dread that is enveloping me.
I don’t know when I passed out, but I wake up laying across the reeking leather, being dragged backward.
I feel fingers, dozens of them, clawing, scraping, trying to gain purchase. A crevice begins to open in the deep black leather, and I begin to be dragged into it.
I throw myself forward, landing painfully on the sticky, grime ridden floor of the car.
Fear, and the awkward ergonomics of my situation make turning around a slow, nerve wracking chore. Once I manage to, I regret the decision.
Hands, some small, some large, some seemingly cobbled together from mismatched scraps, slowly pull themselves from the crevice between the seat and back of the back seat.
They prod and crawl like insects, none ever giving way to arm, just a lumpen flow of calloused, wrist like structure, giving each an segmented, centipede like appearance.
I sit up, watching the macabre display, trying to make some kind of sense of it.
I actually scream when there’s a sharp, loud, mechanical ringing beside my head. The type of analogue noise that went out of style long before land lines did.
It doesn’t take me long to find the handle and pull out an ancient car phone, it’s a two part wood paneled brick of a thing, I pick up the receiver, “Hello” I say, a question as much as a greeting.
The voice is male, probably early twenties.
“Don’t worry about them. They can be an issue if you don’t sleep on the floor, but I’ve never seen one drag itself more than half way across the seat. “ He’s calm, but has a survivors hushed impatience.
“Who are you? “ I ask.
“I won’t lie to you man.
I’ve been in here a while, but now that there is someone else, I think I can get out. Call me Pol. “ I catch the hopeful tone in his voice.
“How? “ I say simply, still trying in vain to put more space between me and the hands.
“Not to sound cold, but if I tell you, there is a chance you just take the information and leave me here.
The first step is us meeting, you’ll know the plan by the time that happens.
I don’t lie. “ If nothing else I can say Pol seems smart.
“Fair enough, what can I do? “ I Trail off at the end of my sentence, one of the hands is pointing at me.
“You need to understand a few things about this place.
First, don’t travel at night. Nothing you are going to find is going to be any better than the crawlers.
Second, remember the numbers, 1, 5 and 9. I’m assuming you have a watch, or a cellular phone? If the time ends in one of those, you’re likely to find a new space.
Last, what’s outside of the car, on the driver’s side, pretend it doesn’t exist. “ The instructions are cryptic, but I’m in no place to turn down good advice.
“How do I know I can trust you? “ I ask, knowing the answer.
“Don’t see how I could be anything other than what I say.
Wouldn’t it be pretty obvious if I was trying to lead you astray? “ Pol’s response is reasonable, but a lifetime of being blindsided makes me wary.
“I guess so. What should I be doing now? “ I say, flipping off the hand like thing that continues to point at me.
“Get some sleep. Time, day and night cycles, they mean nothing here, and passing out in a hundred and fifty degree weather is a shitty way to go.
I won’t be able to get through during the day, so listen carefully.
If you time your travel right, you are going to be looking for two main things. The first is going to be a pillow mint, eventually you are going to starve either way, the human body needs more than just sugar, but you should be able to find enough to keep you going till malnutrition kicks in. The second is a soda can, it’s a sip, and it’s turned, but it’s better than trying to lick the droplets from the windows. “ I listen to Pol, hopefully memorizing his instructions.
Daylight brings with it reek and heat, I watch the hands scuttle back to within the recesses of the seats, shuddering a bit as I see wave like, movements in the cushions.
“God damn it. “ I say looking at the display on my knock off phone. About %50, for all I know I’ll be out in 15 minutes, but I’m not banking on it.
I watch the numbers flash by like a stock ticker, waiting to see if Pol is trying to screw me over or not.
I see 1:39 and crack open the passenger side door.
The same sweltering heat, the same basic backseat, but I know, at a glance, things are not quite identical. Part repetition from the day before, part a decade and a half playing private eye, but I can tell Pol was telling the truth.
Lipstick, smeared on the passenger window, an old handprint. It seems like something bad happened here.
The leather of one of the headrests is torn, I purposely avoid looking at the certainly not stuffing inside.
It’s like this place wants to tell a story, I can’t help but try and hear it.
I don’t find any soda, but I do find a single, red and white pillow mint, wrapper mostly in tact, sitting in a sticky patch on the floor.
I try my luck a few more times, using the cell phone as a kind of metronome, and while I do get a lot of repetition, every so often, there is a little change, or quirk.
I’ve collected two pocketfulls of mints, and found myself desperately hoping to stumble upon anything to drink. Another night of distilled sweat, dust, and God knows what doesn’t seem appealing.
I must have been too slow opening the door, I’d done it over two hundred times at this point, and the grey haze of this new variation set off every danger instinct in me.
It felt like I was being watched from every angle, despite the gloom the heat was worse, and seemed to bake a fungal reek into the air itself.
The door handle on the passenger side is mangled, the steel colored plastic twisted into a useless lump.
The leather seems slightly rotten, weather stripping peels, light fixtures are cracked and loose, it feels very, old.
I watch the phone, my eyes instinctively darting around, there are noises from the front seat and I doubt they have my best interests in mind.
I’m trying the mangled door handle but something is broken.
That being, said, with a car this old, the fish hook, with enough persistence could work,
I Peel back some of the stripping around the window, te hook begins it’s slow trek down into the mechanics of the door.
I scratch my wounded arm, it hurts, but that isn’t what concerns me. I feel a small, irregular lump.
I peel back my makeshift bandages, and what I see attempts me make to vomit stomach contents that weren’t there.
Small, brown grey mushrooms, a half dozen, about the size of a grain of rice. I feel a tingling in the wound, and panic sets in.
Opening a door like this requires a steady hand, but between the noises in the front seat, and the literally budding body horror on my arm, my nerves are shot.
I hear the partition begin to lower, and that rotten, fungal reek becomes nearly a physical force. My eyes water, my nose runs, and I hear a noise, like flowing sand.
I feel the hook dig under the proper part of the lock and pull up as I feel something wet soak through my shoe.
The door opens violently, not that I’m upset, I toss myself forward like I’m going for a touchdown, my forehead slams off of the armrest in the newest backseat I find myself in.
Before the passenger side closes I catch a glimpse of the mess that spilled from behind the partition. Rot and flesh, an aborted rotten attempt at life enraged at the universe that spawned it.
I actually feel relief at the blinding sunlight, and shining leather, and find myself relating to the monsterous mass I left behind.
I look at my arm, realizing I didn’t leave all of it behind.
“Oh, fuck me. “ I say, fumbling the credit card knife together.
The mushrooms had doubled in size, the cheap tin knife makes a terrible scalpel, I scream as I err on the side of caution, flaying a half inch around each.
I’m bleeding heavily, half of the makeshift bandages barely keeping the flow at bay.
My vision swims, I feel sick, and I fight the urge to break down into a mentally and physically broken heap.
That’s where I’ll leave everyone. Night is falling, and without a little more help from Pol, I don’t know how much longer I’m going to last.
If this is the last time you hear from me, well I’m sure Kev will have you guys covered for the rest of what I hope is Art’s downfall.
If it isn’t, I’ve got a favor to ask, did you guys notice anything I didn’t? Is there anything that is more obvious from outside this displaced cluster fuck?
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Well, this is going to be a little different.
First thing I want to say is that Kev will be back. I’m not the type to sugar coat things, he’s in a pretty sorry state, but he’s going to pull through. He’s a tough bastard.
In case you haven’t clued in yet, it’s Mike, I might not be as much of a wordsmith as Kev but I think I can keep your interest.
She was about five foot four, pale greasy skin and pitch colored hair that was just about to cross the double line from shiny into gross. Early thirties I’d guess, but with the strange shit Kev and I have gotten ourselves into she could be a million, or put together yesterday for all I know.
She was a “ Shame Monger” which was as esoteric of a job title as it sounds, and the first context me and my little buddy had on our current assignment.
The place we’re in is an old, decrepit arcade, I’m surrounded by shadowy figures sticking to the dark recesses like insects.
Kev is somewhere deep within the place sticking his neck out with God knows what ( I mean, I do as well, but I’ll let Kevin relay shit when he’s up to it.), and I’m making small talk.
“You human? “ I say, she’s not offended but raises an eyebrow.
“Are you? “ She has an edge to her, human or not, she’s seen some shit.
I laugh, running a hand over the branded lines mimicking clown patterns Art left me with after that stay in his gulag.
“Sometimes I forget about the braille.
Yeah, %100 sadly. “ I lean on the counter as I speak.
“Me too, you haven’t been working with the watchers long, have you? “ She sounds concerned, “ I’d suggest finding a new job. They have a bit of a reputation. “
“Long enough. “ I’m wary now, information is a resource I’m not willing to part with easily.
I don’t think she’s wrong, mind you, every day I spend with these wizards by another name, I like them less and less. Being sent with Kev, Jr, and the voices in my head, wandering across the country to find something called “The Fleshsmith”, is the best case scenario in my opinion. Gives me some breathing room.
“How do does one deal in shame? “ I say after a long silence. The glitched beeping of the machines becoming grating.
“Not as spooky as you’d think.
You play airsoft? I’m Tori by the way. “ Tori says, lighting up a small black cigar.
“Never got the bug, but I’ve heard of it, and I’m Mike. “ I reply.
“Well Mike, I play, and it’s a great hobby. Lots of physical activity, lots of equipment to learn about, it’s got something for everyone. For the most part, it’s an exciting activity .
But, think of the factory that makes the plastic ammunition. It’s integral, but it’s cheap, easy to make, monotonous, and far removed from any of the interesting facets of the hobby.
That’s me. I brush up against all kinds of folks, but besides the little wrinkle your friend is dealing with, all of the real spooky shit is well past arm’s length. “ she coughs, the thick, cherry scented smoke hangs in rings, “ It’s a living. “
“Honestly, I couldn’t be happier.
I hear ‘ Shame Monger’ and I was thinking torture, and, I don’t know, ghosts maybe? “ I shrug, motioning for one of the cigarellos.
She gives me one, it tastes of rose and a rich, almost syrup like tobacco.
“Sorry to disappoint. No, extraction is pretty painless, uses a kind of blotter paper. And to the best of my knowledge, ghosts aren’t a thing.
As I said, things are safe and boring. “ Tori says, taking a seat on a black waist high stool.
I let her statement hang for a moment.
“So what’s with the big guy trying to blend in, waiting for me to leave the counter? And why did he come with 2 friends and a running engine? “ I say, low but casual.
I can tell she’s annoyed at my insight.
“That’s nothing horror adjacent. Just a good old fashioned shake down, cost of doing business.
He doesn’t know exactly what goes on here, but him and his associates know it’s profitable enough they can squeeze ten grand out of me a month. “ Tori shrugs, putting out her cigar.
“You can’t give someone a discount to rattle their cage? “ I ask, curious.
“Listen to you. “ Tori laughs, “If your butcher asked you to get shot for them, would you jump at the chance? “
I make eye contact, I can’t help but smirk.
“I’ve gotten shot for less. “ My comment gets a sideways look.
“Mike, I’m seeing you, and I’ve got to say, kinda seems like you’re full of shit. “ Her reply is harsh, but I can’t blame her. I’m dressed like salesman, facial scars or no.
I don’t reply. I walk to the grimy, dim, wet floored men’s room.
Someone who chooses my line of work doesn’t get into it because they have great impulse control. And unfortunately, I’m not unique .
Since I’ve got here, I’ve felt scared, small, ineffective. I know you guys have seen Kevin’s point of view on things, and it makes me seem like some kind of wrecking ball, but that is 50 per cent showmanship, 30 per cent planning and 20 per cent not caring if I lose a piece or two.
But this situation, some low rent semi-connected asshole who thinks he’s Don Corleone? It calls to me.
The clothing I wear is designed to be reversable, and with a few adjustments, I’m no longer wearing a cheap looking used car salesman’s suit, but an antique tuxedo with a 1940s design.
The mirror is grimy as hell, I try to clear a spot, but the sad, octogenarian Esque flow from the tap isn’t up to the task.
But it’s clear enough to reflect him, standing behind me. I jump, and my heart starts to pound.
“Not the time for this. “ I say, pacing.
I try to look away, but there he is, in the corner of my vision, each time. I’d close my eyes, but that’s what he wants, he gets closer when I can’t see.
For a half second my vision is taken up by a crystal clear image of his face. That angular, pale visage inhuman by any standard, but haunting in it’s echoes of a past rooted in mortality.
I stumble backward, slamming into the wall. Panting, my eyes locked on his almost-there form.
He’s tall, wicked, and everything about him exudes power. He’s taken to looking like me more and more lately. But a twisted, malignant reflection, what I could be if I let this pulp novel of a corner of reality have it’s way with me.
“Fuck off Demi! “ I say, getting to my feet, “ I’ve got shit to do. “
Still don’t know if he is just another hallucination, or who he says he is, but Demi and myself are on pretty poor terms as of late.
I hear the bodyless old ghoul whispering what I assume are dark threats as I open a small tube of what I like to refer to as ‘Mike’s Mix’.
A combination of preparation H, topical anesthetic, and just a hint of clown white. Laugh if you want, but it stops a hell of a lot of incidental injuries in my line of work.
Demi starts to fade and I see what I can of myself in the dull mirror.
I’m a little too old for the phrase, but I’m sure a lot of you folks out there would refer to the cliché spook I’ve cultivated as “Cringe”.
I don’t disagree.
But, it’s the game I have to play right now. I’m not some invincible cursed killer, but you know what, I can certainly play one on T.V.
(Did I just try to relate to kids, then make a joke from a 40 year old commercial? This is why Kev does the writing.)
I walk out of the bathroom, reeking of fear sweat and tainted water. The foot and a half lucite rod is tucked up my sleeve, I tap the end of it against the wall as I walk.
The guy is six feet, easily, he’s fifty or so, but making up for it with trips to the gym and a few friendly doctors if I don’t miss my guess.
He doesn’t take the bait, just keeps talking to Tori, once he looks to me, I can tell he is asking her who I am, she’s smart, she shrugs after looking over.
I had an entire plan where I would embarrass the man, get him to send some guys, and make things so costly he just gave up on Tori. It’s a classic, but if it ain’t broke and all that.
But plans, like the people that make them, tend to fail at the worst times.
Once I get within striking distance, the guy turns, his speed isn’t supernatural, but a lot more than I was expecting. His punch lands well enough that I don’t remember starting to fall.
The second finishes the job before I can get my bearings.
The darkness creeps in and in it’s peace I realize how stupid it was to go in this half cocked. I was jonesing for a fight I could win so badly, I went in without a plan B.
I need someone to reign me in, back home it was Eli, here, it’s Kev. As the last bits of conscious thought leave me, I feel bad about leaving him alone.
It's the stifling heat that wakes me up, before my vision clears I smell hot, cheap leather, old vomit and years worth of attempts to mask the smell.
I’m soaked in sweat, the air is like a sauna. I’m sitting in the back of a car, I wouldn’t call it a limo, but it’s clearly built for comfort, in optimal circumstances. There’s a tinted glass partition separating me from the front seat, it’s cracked slightly, I try to tell if anyone is there, but have no luck.
“Can’t say this is a new experience. “ I say, to whoever may be listening.
I try kicking out the windows and the partition, they don’t budge a millimeter.
“If you are up for talking things over, I’m game. “ I try to pry the overhead light loose, and that’s when I notice it.
It's a note, in a thick plastic sleeve, wrapped around my forearm and stuck with some kind of adhesive.
The pain is horrible, made all the worse by the constant pouring of sweat literally putting salt into the wound.
Said wound isn’t deep, a few layers of skin down, enough to weep blood, but far away from pouring. But if this kills me, it won’t be exsanguination. Depending on how long, whoever, plans on keeping me in here, I worry about infection, necrosis, pretty much all the members of the Untreated Wound crew.
I take off the suit jacket, and tear it into strips to use as makeshift bandages, I have a feeling I’ll be needing plenty by the time this is over.
My left arm is slow and clumsy as I open the envelope. I hope it’s just shock, or swelling, not nerve damage.
It reads:
Hey, Dracula, or whatever the hell you are.
Fuck yourself, you think we don’t have ways of taking care of your kind?
Have Fun
Niko Ferang
“Well, can’t say the guy isn’t succinct. “ I say, laughing.
If I just went up to the guy with a threat and a pipe, I’d have either won or lost, and that’d be the end of it. But my genius self succeeded in convincing him I was scary enough to toss me… here.
It dawns on me that there is something obvious I haven’t tried.
As I pull the latch on the passenger side door, something inside me tells me to stop.
Visually, I can’t really describe what it looked like opening the door. The brief period before I saw what was beyond was the visual equivalent of trying to catch a greased pig.
I was left with a view, an identical car interior. The other car parked impossibly close, Their doors seeming to blend with their exteriors.
I enter, as a great man once said “Buy the ticket, take the ride. “, and my dumb ass need for assurance, bought me one hell of a ride.
Once I get in, the driver’s side door closes, and I find myself in the same sweltering heat, in the same backseat.
The damp leather sticks to my arms, I start to calculate how much water I’m losing by the minute, and the math scares the hell out of me.
I try going through the door a few more times, but the more I do, the more I realize, it’s the same car.
The fear becomes as oppressive as the wet heat, I’ve researched a hell of a lot of things from the watchers library, but infinite Oldsmobiles didn’t come up.
I’ve been disarmed, but left with my phone, and wallet. I’m kind of impressed they managed to find 99 per cent of the equipment I can hide in a suit, but hey, %1 is better than nothing.
The phone makes a useless bludgeon, I quickly retire the idea, and figure, even neutered as it is ( I find I can get online, but little else.), it’s better doing phone things than broken.
The good news is frighteningly slim.
I’ve got a few feet of polymar tarp, folded in the wallet, useful for a lot of things, but most important in my situation will be trying to get some kind of drinking water.
An emergency credit card knife, barely useful little thing, won’t do me any good in a fight, but might be a useful tool.
Three strike anywhere matches, a small hook and length of fishing line.
My lips are cracked and bleeding, it can’t have been more than an hour or two, but I’m starting to feel heat exhaustion set in.
I think I’ve found something when the knife sinks into the thin leather of the overstuffed backseat, but the shoddy blade encounters some kind of solid matter, and as I pull the knife out, the leather seals itself.
I stay still, trying to conserve energy, trying to formulate some plan.
He sits beside me now, his looming hunched frame bent in the confines of the car. His face is a blur, but I know beneath the shadows he's smirking.
“I’m way too tired for you Demi. “ I say, wiping what feels like a liter of sweat from my forehead.
His repeating, echoing laughter proves me wrong, I shiver, despite the brutal heat.
It can’t have been more than a few degrees, bit It feels like getting splashed with ice water.
The light in the car begins to dim, and with it, the soul crushing temperature of the luxury automobile drops.
I scramble to set up the tarp, I was banking on this, without some kind of temperature drop, the plastic sheet is useless.
Within an hour droplets have began to create a small stream, collecting at the cone shaped tip of the suspended tarp. Lacking anything to put it into, I catch the liquid in my mouth.
It's foul, and likely contaminated, but it’s my only option. If I’m stuck in here a week I can get by without food, brutalized by heat, I won’t make it 2 days without water.
I feel exhausted, wondering exactly how long I’ve been stuck here I check the time on my phone.
It’s almost random progression does nothing to comfort the surreal sense of dread that is enveloping me.
I don’t know when I passed out, but I wake up laying across the reeking leather, being dragged backward.
I feel fingers, dozens of them, clawing, scraping, trying to gain purchase. A crevice begins to open in the deep black leather, and I begin to be dragged into it.
I throw myself forward, landing painfully on the sticky, grime ridden floor of the car.
Fear, and the awkward ergonomics of my situation make turning around a slow, nerve wracking chore. Once I manage to, I regret the decision.
Hands, some small, some large, some seemingly cobbled together from mismatched scraps, slowly pull themselves from the crevice between the seat and back of the back seat.
They prod and crawl like insects, none ever giving way to arm, just a lumpen flow of calloused, wrist like structure, giving each an segmented, centipede like appearance.
I sit up, watching the macabre display, trying to make some kind of sense of it.
I actually scream when there’s a sharp, loud, mechanical ringing beside my head. The type of analogue noise that went out of style long before land lines did.
It doesn’t take me long to find the handle and pull out an ancient car phone, it’s a two part wood paneled brick of a thing, I pick up the receiver, “Hello” I say, a question as much as a greeting.
The voice is male, probably early twenties.
“Don’t worry about them. They can be an issue if you don’t sleep on the floor, but I’ve never seen one drag itself more than half way across the seat. “ He’s calm, but has a survivors hushed impatience.
“Who are you? “ I ask.
“I won’t lie to you man.
I’ve been in here a while, but now that there is someone else, I think I can get out. Call me Pol. “ I catch the hopeful tone in his voice.
“How? “ I say simply, still trying in vain to put more space between me and the hands.
“Not to sound cold, but if I tell you, there is a chance you just take the information and leave me here.
The first step is us meeting, you’ll know the plan by the time that happens.
I don’t lie. “ If nothing else I can say Pol seems smart.
“Fair enough, what can I do? “ I Trail off at the end of my sentence, one of the hands is pointing at me.
“You need to understand a few things about this place.
First, don’t travel at night. Nothing you are going to find is going to be any better than the crawlers.
Second, remember the numbers, 1, 5 and 9. I’m assuming you have a watch, or a cellular phone? If the time ends in one of those, you’re likely to find a new space.
Last, what’s outside of the car, on the driver’s side, pretend it doesn’t exist. “ The instructions are cryptic, but I’m in no place to turn down good advice.
“How do I know I can trust you? “ I ask, knowing the answer.
“Don’t see how I could be anything other than what I say.
Wouldn’t it be pretty obvious if I was trying to lead you astray? “ Pol’s response is reasonable, but a lifetime of being blindsided makes me wary.
“I guess so. What should I be doing now? “ I say, flipping off the hand like thing that continues to point at me.
“Get some sleep. Time, day and night cycles, they mean nothing here, and passing out in a hundred and fifty degree weather is a shitty way to go.
I won’t be able to get through during the day, so listen carefully.
If you time your travel right, you are going to be looking for two main things. The first is going to be a pillow mint, eventually you are going to starve either way, the human body needs more than just sugar, but you should be able to find enough to keep you going till malnutrition kicks in. The second is a soda can, it’s a sip, and it’s turned, but it’s better than trying to lick the droplets from the windows. “ I listen to Pol, hopefully memorizing his instructions.
Daylight brings with it reek and heat, I watch the hands scuttle back to within the recesses of the seats, shuddering a bit as I see wave like, movements in the cushions.
“God damn it. “ I say looking at the display on my knock off phone. About %50, for all I know I’ll be out in 15 minutes, but I’m not banking on it.
I watch the numbers flash by like a stock ticker, waiting to see if Pol is trying to screw me over or not.
I see 1:39 and crack open the passenger side door.
The same sweltering heat, the same basic backseat, but I know, at a glance, things are not quite identical. Part repetition from the day before, part a decade and a half playing private eye, but I can tell Pol was telling the truth.
Lipstick, smeared on the passenger window, an old handprint. It seems like something bad happened here.
The leather of one of the headrests is torn, I purposely avoid looking at the certainly not stuffing inside.
It’s like this place wants to tell a story, I can’t help but try and hear it.
I don’t find any soda, but I do find a single, red and white pillow mint, wrapper mostly in tact, sitting in a sticky patch on the floor.
I try my luck a few more times, using the cell phone as a kind of metronome, and while I do get a lot of repetition, every so often, there is a little change, or quirk.
I’ve collected two pocketfulls of mints, and found myself desperately hoping to stumble upon anything to drink. Another night of distilled sweat, dust, and God knows what doesn’t seem appealing.
I must have been too slow opening the door, I’d done it over two hundred times at this point, and the grey haze of this new variation set off every danger instinct in me.
It felt like I was being watched from every angle, despite the gloom the heat was worse, and seemed to bake a fungal reek into the air itself.
The door handle on the passenger side is mangled, the steel colored plastic twisted into a useless lump.
The leather seems slightly rotten, weather stripping peels, light fixtures are cracked and loose, it feels very, old.
I watch the phone, my eyes instinctively darting around, there are noises from the front seat and I doubt they have my best interests in mind.
I’m trying the mangled door handle but something is broken.
That being, said, with a car this old, the fish hook, with enough persistence could work,
I Peel back some of the stripping around the window, te hook begins it’s slow trek down into the mechanics of the door.
I scratch my wounded arm, it hurts, but that isn’t what concerns me. I feel a small, irregular lump.
I peel back my makeshift bandages, and what I see attempts me make to vomit stomach contents that weren’t there.
Small, brown grey mushrooms, a half dozen, about the size of a grain of rice. I feel a tingling in the wound, and panic sets in.
Opening a door like this requires a steady hand, but between the noises in the front seat, and the literally budding body horror on my arm, my nerves are shot.
I hear the partition begin to lower, and that rotten, fungal reek becomes nearly a physical force. My eyes water, my nose runs, and I hear a noise, like flowing sand.
I feel the hook dig under the proper part of the lock and pull up as I feel something wet soak through my shoe.
The door opens violently, not that I’m upset, I toss myself forward like I’m going for a touchdown, my forehead slams off of the armrest in the newest backseat I find myself in.
Before the passenger side closes I catch a glimpse of the mess that spilled from behind the partition. Rot and flesh, an aborted rotten attempt at life enraged at the universe that spawned it.
I actually feel relief at the blinding sunlight, and shining leather, and find myself relating to the monsterous mass I left behind.
I look at my arm, realizing I didn’t leave all of it behind.
“Oh, fuck me. “ I say, fumbling the credit card knife together.
The mushrooms had doubled in size, the cheap tin knife makes a terrible scalpel, I scream as I err on the side of caution, flaying a half inch around each.
I’m bleeding heavily, half of the makeshift bandages barely keeping the flow at bay.
My vision swims, I feel sick, and I fight the urge to break down into a mentally and physically broken heap.
That’s where I’ll leave everyone. Night is falling, and without a little more help from Pol, I don’t know how much longer I’m going to last.
If this is the last time you hear from me, well I’m sure Kev will have you guys covered for the rest of what I hope is Art’s downfall.
If it isn’t, I’ve got a favor to ask, did you guys notice anything I didn’t? Is there anything that is more obvious from outside this displaced cluster fuck?
2023.06.10 08:59 AlexMullerSA What do you think?
https://imgur.com/a/IF2t4IZ
So this will be my boards final form for at least a while. (At least I hope so).
I have everything but the Tuner Pedal and the Tone City King of Blues. I'm tired of using head stock tuners and would benefit from the mute button, but I need a mini pedal so the D'addario fits my needs and budget. Screen is nice and big and easy to read in a room, and I quite like the angle of it facing the player.
The King of Blues is something I had never heard about until I was watching some videos on the King of Tone and its clones and Lee Anderton brought out this pedal. I found one to try and I loved it, so went and found a used one very very cheap that will hopefully arrive next week.
My chain is as follows: Tuner, TC Spark, Bazz Fuzz(DIY circuit), King of Blues, Black Secret, MT-2. The RC-30 is in the loop FX of my Boss Katana 100w MK2, I use the Airstep to switch patches and turn effects on/off.
Board is powered by a Caline 5 power supply that's under the board.
I make all my own patch cables using those flat head right angle lugs, so once my layout is on the board I will measure and cut cables to size to keep it neat and cables as short as possible.
Any thoughts or criticism would be appreciated! Ill post pics of the board when its done.
submitted by AlexMullerSA to guitarpedals [link] [comments]
So this will be my boards final form for at least a while. (At least I hope so).
I have everything but the Tuner Pedal and the Tone City King of Blues. I'm tired of using head stock tuners and would benefit from the mute button, but I need a mini pedal so the D'addario fits my needs and budget. Screen is nice and big and easy to read in a room, and I quite like the angle of it facing the player.
The King of Blues is something I had never heard about until I was watching some videos on the King of Tone and its clones and Lee Anderton brought out this pedal. I found one to try and I loved it, so went and found a used one very very cheap that will hopefully arrive next week.
My chain is as follows: Tuner, TC Spark, Bazz Fuzz(DIY circuit), King of Blues, Black Secret, MT-2. The RC-30 is in the loop FX of my Boss Katana 100w MK2, I use the Airstep to switch patches and turn effects on/off.
Board is powered by a Caline 5 power supply that's under the board.
I make all my own patch cables using those flat head right angle lugs, so once my layout is on the board I will measure and cut cables to size to keep it neat and cables as short as possible.
Any thoughts or criticism would be appreciated! Ill post pics of the board when its done.
2023.06.10 08:52 MeowieCatty Finally Diagnosed
So I just got officially diagnosed with endo. Since I was 10 I have had horrible period pain. I mean preemptive take advil and pray I don't puke pain. Endo runs in my family, but I was told to try to manage it with advil. In 2019 I finally got tired of the pain. I went in for scans, and it showed some abnormalities in my abdomen, and a noticeable one on my bladder.
They deemed it a bad bladder infection and sent me on my way. Antibiotics did nothing. My pain was the same. I later ended up in the hospital for unrelated kidney stones and they decided the whole ordeal was kidney stones. After my kidney stone surgery things weren't much better. In fact, I started getting ovulation cramps and bladder pain. If my bladder is full I feel like puking and get cramps. I can't regulate my body temperature to save my life and get chills in anything under 20⁰C. I get ovulation cramps. I get period cramps that go all up my back and down my legs. 3 weeks of the month I am in pain. I pass blood clots the size of loonies and toonies. Some clots are bug enough to cause discomfort passing. Ill bleed thru a super tampon in 1-2 hours. I switched to a diva cup and that lasts about 3-4 hours on a bad day. I can sleep 4 hours, 6 hours, 8 hours, or 10 hours and wake up feeling the same exhaustion. Ive always gotten sick on my period. Dizzy, light headed, achey, and since having Covid last November have all my long Covid symptoms come back. It gets tiring to walk across a room. I bloat bad enough people have argued with me on whether or not im pregnant and am in so much discomfort when bloated I cannot eat. I go at week a month on maybe half a meal per day if lucky. Somedays I live off juice or a smoothie because I am so uncomfortable and struggle to eat.
My doctor strongly felt that it was endo, but she was unable to diagnose it as it is outside her area of expertise and none of the specialists she sent me to were willing to help. I cannot take that much sick time off work, so I just dealt with it. Thankfully I have a wonderful department manager who is 100% in my corner and understands when I have a bad day. She is fantastic and has been a huge help and is ok with me doing easier tasks on bad days and taking a breather if I need it.
This past Friday I called a local walk in place that specializes in young adult health and has women's health specialists on call. I went in and gave them my info on Monday. They had me come in Wednesday to go over things. They found endo on all the scans from 2019. I have endo on my bladder. I have it all thru my abdomen. Every test and scan clearly showed endo as the only possible cause and it was just missed. If any doctor had called in a women's health specialist it would be an easy cut and dry diagnosis. I turn 24 in a couple of months. It took 14 years to diagnose me.
I was given mefenamic acid as a temporary relief. It has helped so much. I take 2 before bed and I'm not in pain. I actually slept while on my period. I get a bit light headed and have a slight headache, but so much better than the cramps. It also lightened my period. It is about 30% lighter when I take the pill compared to normal. I don't have giant clots. I have a few loonies sized ones which I understand are still bigger than normal, but they are manageable and don't cause pain to pass. I'm still bloated and eating is a struggle, but I can eat light meals and not throw up since the pain is better managed.
I go in on the 29th to have a Mirena inserted. I am excited. The doctor said I should feel way better after a few months on it, and the thought of not being in pain for 3/4 of my life is so exciting. If the IUD doesn't work then we'll look into getting a surgery in the future, but I am just so happy I am diagnosed, I know what it is, and I'm getting treatment. I can't really remember how it felt to not be worrying about pain or when my period will randomly decide to show up or skip a month. I can't remember not being bloated once a month and having strangers ask about due dates and give unsolicited advice. I started dressing in flowy dresses and high waisted pants because I got these comments less and none of my friends understood why I got so insecure and stressed when people would congratulate me and offer me advice on baby raising and ask about my husband (very single, very against casual hook ups for myself, very much want a big family and know that may not be easy or possible) I am so excited to go thru life and learn what normal is supposed to feel like. I am a little nervous about the IUD insertion, but so happy to actually have a chance at enjoying life more.
submitted by MeowieCatty to endometriosis [link] [comments]
They deemed it a bad bladder infection and sent me on my way. Antibiotics did nothing. My pain was the same. I later ended up in the hospital for unrelated kidney stones and they decided the whole ordeal was kidney stones. After my kidney stone surgery things weren't much better. In fact, I started getting ovulation cramps and bladder pain. If my bladder is full I feel like puking and get cramps. I can't regulate my body temperature to save my life and get chills in anything under 20⁰C. I get ovulation cramps. I get period cramps that go all up my back and down my legs. 3 weeks of the month I am in pain. I pass blood clots the size of loonies and toonies. Some clots are bug enough to cause discomfort passing. Ill bleed thru a super tampon in 1-2 hours. I switched to a diva cup and that lasts about 3-4 hours on a bad day. I can sleep 4 hours, 6 hours, 8 hours, or 10 hours and wake up feeling the same exhaustion. Ive always gotten sick on my period. Dizzy, light headed, achey, and since having Covid last November have all my long Covid symptoms come back. It gets tiring to walk across a room. I bloat bad enough people have argued with me on whether or not im pregnant and am in so much discomfort when bloated I cannot eat. I go at week a month on maybe half a meal per day if lucky. Somedays I live off juice or a smoothie because I am so uncomfortable and struggle to eat.
My doctor strongly felt that it was endo, but she was unable to diagnose it as it is outside her area of expertise and none of the specialists she sent me to were willing to help. I cannot take that much sick time off work, so I just dealt with it. Thankfully I have a wonderful department manager who is 100% in my corner and understands when I have a bad day. She is fantastic and has been a huge help and is ok with me doing easier tasks on bad days and taking a breather if I need it.
This past Friday I called a local walk in place that specializes in young adult health and has women's health specialists on call. I went in and gave them my info on Monday. They had me come in Wednesday to go over things. They found endo on all the scans from 2019. I have endo on my bladder. I have it all thru my abdomen. Every test and scan clearly showed endo as the only possible cause and it was just missed. If any doctor had called in a women's health specialist it would be an easy cut and dry diagnosis. I turn 24 in a couple of months. It took 14 years to diagnose me.
I was given mefenamic acid as a temporary relief. It has helped so much. I take 2 before bed and I'm not in pain. I actually slept while on my period. I get a bit light headed and have a slight headache, but so much better than the cramps. It also lightened my period. It is about 30% lighter when I take the pill compared to normal. I don't have giant clots. I have a few loonies sized ones which I understand are still bigger than normal, but they are manageable and don't cause pain to pass. I'm still bloated and eating is a struggle, but I can eat light meals and not throw up since the pain is better managed.
I go in on the 29th to have a Mirena inserted. I am excited. The doctor said I should feel way better after a few months on it, and the thought of not being in pain for 3/4 of my life is so exciting. If the IUD doesn't work then we'll look into getting a surgery in the future, but I am just so happy I am diagnosed, I know what it is, and I'm getting treatment. I can't really remember how it felt to not be worrying about pain or when my period will randomly decide to show up or skip a month. I can't remember not being bloated once a month and having strangers ask about due dates and give unsolicited advice. I started dressing in flowy dresses and high waisted pants because I got these comments less and none of my friends understood why I got so insecure and stressed when people would congratulate me and offer me advice on baby raising and ask about my husband (very single, very against casual hook ups for myself, very much want a big family and know that may not be easy or possible) I am so excited to go thru life and learn what normal is supposed to feel like. I am a little nervous about the IUD insertion, but so happy to actually have a chance at enjoying life more.
2023.06.10 08:43 WilliamTheHusky TV from 2008 never cleaned.
 | submitted by WilliamTheHusky to hardwaregore [link] [comments] |
2023.06.10 08:29 Adam-best Electrical Hip Muscle Stimulator
Want to feel confident again in your favorite dress? Ever feel like no matter how hard you train, your booty just doesn't seem to show results? The Electrical Hip Muscle Stimulator solves this problem for you instantly!
https://zafyn.com/collections/new-products/products/electrical-hip-muscle-stimulator
https://reddit.com/link/145skod/video/hu6xu6ejol261/player
This allows you to train your booty and lower bodyeffectively from the comfort of your own home. It uses electrical muscle stimulation to promote muscle movement, scientifically proven to tighten your musclesto help achieve that perfect figure.
submitted by Adam-best to McrOne [link] [comments]
https://zafyn.com/collections/new-products/products/electrical-hip-muscle-stimulator
https://reddit.com/link/145skod/video/hu6xu6ejol261/player
This allows you to train your booty and lower bodyeffectively from the comfort of your own home. It uses electrical muscle stimulation to promote muscle movement, scientifically proven to tighten your musclesto help achieve that perfect figure.
Highlights:
- Electronic muscle stimulation: stimulate the hip and gluteal muscles and help to tone, tighten and firm your hips and buttocks to achieve the body that you’ve always wanted
- Exercise anytime: provide endless possibilities in training your booty like in front of the TV, when doing the dishes, or even when cooking
- U-shaped design: ergonomic pads cover targeted regions in the buttocks to stimulate nerves where they are most concentrated
- Cost-effective: save time and money on expensive gym subscriptions and allow you the convenience of getting amazing results without tiring workouts
- You only need to train for 15-20 minutes/day to get that noticeable improvement in just 4 weeks
- Easy to use push-button operation with 6 modes and 10 intensity levels
- With a push of a button, you can adjust the intensity of the stimulation and go about with your daily activities
- 100% skin-friendly and pain-free
Specifications:
- Material: PU
- Power Source: 2 x AAA batteries (not included)
- Certificate: CE/EMC, ROHS-certified
- Color: Black & Orange
- Size: Approximately 260mm x 188mm x 12.8mm
Package Includes:
- 1 x Electrical Hip Muscle Stimulator with Reuseable Gel Pads
- 1 Set of Reusable Gel Pad Replacement
2023.06.10 07:56 Other-Student2939 I'm Saerah a 15 F (sorry it's really long)
I was sexually assaulted by a kid named Marcus (21M) and my brother Sean (18M). I don't think it was rape because he was just fingering me. So my brother Sean snuck Marcus into our room at like 12;00. (Me and Sean share a room). Me my brother and Marcus were all playing Gta (well I had the controller). My brother had his hand on my thigh and Marcus had his hand of my other thigh. I'm the middle of the a mission Marcus put his finger into my vagina. I threw my controller and moved him hand and my brothers hand. They put their hands back and said "come on it was a joke, and you moaned, whore. " Sean and Marcus bother started fingering me. So I moved their hands and went to the bathroom. When I went back the both apologized. We continues playing Gta. I asked my brother to turn his fan on but he said just take my shirt off, I but then later the held me and took it off for me. He said "it's fine, god your dramatic." Marcus then said Damn nice tits, right dude. (im a bra size DDD/F) I had a bra on so I thought nothing of it but then and Sean put there hand back on my thigh while Marcus laid his head on my shoulder. I thought nothing of it because when I was 11 and he was 17 we dated, but Sean put us together because Marcus liked me, but Marcus just laid his head there to look at my boobs. It was silent so Marcus to start conversations back said "remember when we had sex, dude you should have felt her she was tight" Sean told him I could tell shes tight my finger was just in her pussy idiot. I was a little embarrassed but I gave the controller to Sean so he could play. While he was playing Marcus lifted his head and asked if I was getting tired. I told him a little and I rested my head on his lap again I used to do that when we dated too. He told Sean that's 20 bucks, I told you I could get her head by my cock without her thinking it was inappropriate. I bolted my head up and screamed "am I joke to you, your related to me Sean and you Marcus are 21" they laughed at me and told me " you were always a slut, so why are you reacting now Saerah" I cried and they both comforted me. We all still have game nights and they do similar stuff but I love mine and their friendship and I don't want it to end.
submitted by Other-Student2939 to sexualassault [link] [comments]
2023.06.10 07:47 experteasyAU Gaming Desk
8 Best Gaming Desks in Australia (2023)
Gaming has evolved into a profession and a thriving industry. However, the risks they pose to our health from prolonged sitting or standing cannot be ignored. Thus, it's crucial to carefully consider your gaming setup and prioritise your well-being. Highly curated gaming workspaces not only improve our health but offer outstanding gaming experiences and comfort.In this guide, we discuss one of the crucial components of a gaming workspace; gaming desks. We uncover and evaluate the best options available in Australia and what to look out for when making a purchase. And if you're after an ergonomic gaming chair to complete your setup, check out our guide on the best gaming chairs.Top 8 Gaming Desks for Australians
Getting a gaming desk should be a priority if you're a pro gamer. Here are the best gaming desks available in Australia:
- Secretlab Magnus Pro/Pro XL: Best Overall Gaming Desk for Australians
- Desky Alpha Dual Gaming Desk: Best Australian-Made Gaming Desk
- Zen Pro Sit Stand Gaming Desk: Best Gaming Desk for Beginners
- Arozzi Arena Gaming Desk: Best Aesthetic Gaming Desk
- Seven Warrior Gaming Desk: Best Fixed-Height Gaming Desk
- Desino Gaming Desk: Best Gaming Desk for Casual Gamers
- Casaottima L-Shaped Gaming Desk: Best Fixed-Height L-Shaped Gaming Desk
- Eureka Ergonomic I60-SLB Gaming Desk
How to Choose the Best Gaming Desk
To buy a gaming desk that complements your station, you first need to understand your personal preferences. For example, gamers with an itch for aesthetics can compromise a little functionality and not be too wary about it. In addition to these personal preferences, here are other factors to consider when choosing a gaming desk.
- Size
- Shape
- Adjustability
- Storage
- Material
- Price
2023.06.10 07:39 Maskulinity Six Years Later: An Update From an LL Man
(I don't seem to be able to change my user flair, but I'm 41 now, and still LL.)
So, six-ish years ago, I came here with some, as it turned out, rather serious dead bedroom problems. You all (or those of you who are still around after this long) gave me a lot of great advice and helped me see more clearly what the issues were, and that there was only so much I could really be expected to do to solve things.
Well, since Reddit is busy getting ready to torch itself, I was prepping to delete my stuff and remembered I had this old account. So I thought "Why not make an update?"
For those who haven't been here that long (which I hope is not most of you), a quick story recap:
My wife wanted lots of sex, but she wanted it a certain, very ritualistic, way. Encounters that were shorter than 90 minutes were "selfish" on my end. I had a lot of rules I had to follow (never explicitly stated; learned from trial and error), and if I slipped on any of them, we'd end up in an often baffling fight. Like, for example, give her at least two orgasms before I penetrate her, and then hold my orgasm until we can go together, but don't make it clear that I'm trying to hold off an orgasm because then I'm not "with her". That sort of thing.
My attempts to communicate my anxiety and my desires were stonewalled. Finally, after 15 years of a marriage and several years of this sex conflict, my giveafuck finally threw a rod when we had perfect sex, when everything finally went 100% right, when I did everything flawlessly, and then she told me it was too good, and she was surprised that she connected with me that way after all these relationship struggles, and that it must indicate something was wrong with her. Like her standards were slipping, or something (I assume; I never got a comprehensible explanation).
That's about when I stopped posting here, because all the advice in the world wasn't going to fix this. Sex was, literally, always going to be wrong somehow, and it would always be my fault.
Well, a lot has happened since then. It took about another year and change, but I got a divorce. With distance, I can see there were a truckload of other issues in the marriage; I'm still having moments where I'm just minding my own business, in the shower or driving or something, and then suddenly think of an event or an argument and go "Hold on... that was really fucked up!"
I got tested for Low-T, and that wasn't the problem; my T-levels were fine, and actually a smidge high for my age range. So my working theory at the time I left was that I wasn't LL; I was just LL with her. I got several opportunities to test that out, and, it's not... exactly? true.
My L is higher these days, but it never got back to where it was early in my marriage. There's definitely still anxiety associated with sex, and the thought of spending a whole weekend in bed with someone is still deeply terrifying. Furthermore, while I enjoyed the act of sex, I always finished a sexual encounter feeling distinctly unfulfilled. It's hard to explain. I'd be laying there in bed and not feeling euphoric or fuzzy or happy or even necessarily sleepy, just... kind of empty. Whatever nebulous expectation I'd had for the encounter was still unmet, and I was kind of numb.
So I gave up on dating for a while, hoping to maybe get my shit together personally with some therapy and medication before diving back into the waters that had clearly screwed up my head the last time. During that time of no relationships and no sex, I discovered that sex is now not all that big a deal to me. I'm fine without it. It's like, I enjoy the act of sex, and if someone says "Hey, wanna have sex?", I'll probably enthusiastically say yes, but all the difficulties I associate with the "before" part and the "after" part just kind of makes it... not worth it? That is to say, I don't really miss it. On the occasions that I do miss it, fifteen minutes on Literotica completely fixes that. Meter reset to 0, all functions returned to normal, I can continue on with whatever I was doing in a fine mood.
I've started just identifying as gray/ace, sexually. It's more complicated than that, and I don't exactly fit the definition, but it's quick and simple and close enough to true to serve the purpose. I think I'm this way because my experiences fucked me up in the head, rather than because it's my in-born true sexual orientation, but, like, there's not an "it's complicated" flag and I really don't feel like the question of "what's your sexuality?" is best answered with a novel of a size that could have been written by a dead Russian.
I have a girlfriend now who I love very much, and she's also pretty firmly ace, so it works out well. She was kind of skeptical of me at first, which, I don't blame her, because, apparently, all of her previous relationships have at some point decided to try to "fix" her as soon as they got tired of not getting laid. But it's been over a year now; the cuddles are great, we have one less thing to fight about, and if it ever comes up that the stars align and we're both in the mood, I'll bet it'll be fantastic. But if that never comes up, that'll be fine too.
So that's the end of my story, on the astronomically small off-chance that anyone was still wondering how that all turned out.
Thanks to everyone in this community, for providing a safe place for me to ask questions and talk about my experiences, and for helping me gain some perspective on my situation, and especially for showing me where I could have been the one fucking things up, so I could go get the tools to explore the possibility and uncover more about what was happening. I hope the folks responsible for creating this place can continue to provide these services to folks on whatever platform ends up replacing Reddit.
EDITED TO ADD: I just remembered something that might also be interesting. So, back in the day, I posted about how we'd both taken the Mojo Upgrade questionnaire, which is a sort of sex quiz you take with a partner where you both, separately, answer Yes/Maybe/No to a long list of sexual activities. At the end, the quiz e-mails you only the results that you both said "Yes" or "Maybe" to. So, ostensibly, you don't have to directly reveal your darkest kink to your partner to find out if they're into it.
In my post, I mentioned that she said "Yes" to things were surprising and encouraging, but that it turned out to be misleading; they were only "Yes" in incredibly hyper-specific scenarios that would never realistically happen, and "No" otherwise.
WELL, IT WAS ACTUALLY WORSE THAN THAT
She admitted, some many months later, that she'd said "Yes" to literally everything so that she could see all the things I said "Yes" or "Maybe" to, in order to find out all my secret wicked little perversions. Everything she told me to explain her "Yes"s were on-the-spot lies to cover up the scheme.
So, like, heads up; a schemey person with dubious goals can game that quiz.
submitted by Maskulinity to DeadBedrooms [link] [comments]
So, six-ish years ago, I came here with some, as it turned out, rather serious dead bedroom problems. You all (or those of you who are still around after this long) gave me a lot of great advice and helped me see more clearly what the issues were, and that there was only so much I could really be expected to do to solve things.
Well, since Reddit is busy getting ready to torch itself, I was prepping to delete my stuff and remembered I had this old account. So I thought "Why not make an update?"
For those who haven't been here that long (which I hope is not most of you), a quick story recap:
My wife wanted lots of sex, but she wanted it a certain, very ritualistic, way. Encounters that were shorter than 90 minutes were "selfish" on my end. I had a lot of rules I had to follow (never explicitly stated; learned from trial and error), and if I slipped on any of them, we'd end up in an often baffling fight. Like, for example, give her at least two orgasms before I penetrate her, and then hold my orgasm until we can go together, but don't make it clear that I'm trying to hold off an orgasm because then I'm not "with her". That sort of thing.
My attempts to communicate my anxiety and my desires were stonewalled. Finally, after 15 years of a marriage and several years of this sex conflict, my giveafuck finally threw a rod when we had perfect sex, when everything finally went 100% right, when I did everything flawlessly, and then she told me it was too good, and she was surprised that she connected with me that way after all these relationship struggles, and that it must indicate something was wrong with her. Like her standards were slipping, or something (I assume; I never got a comprehensible explanation).
That's about when I stopped posting here, because all the advice in the world wasn't going to fix this. Sex was, literally, always going to be wrong somehow, and it would always be my fault.
Well, a lot has happened since then. It took about another year and change, but I got a divorce. With distance, I can see there were a truckload of other issues in the marriage; I'm still having moments where I'm just minding my own business, in the shower or driving or something, and then suddenly think of an event or an argument and go "Hold on... that was really fucked up!"
I got tested for Low-T, and that wasn't the problem; my T-levels were fine, and actually a smidge high for my age range. So my working theory at the time I left was that I wasn't LL; I was just LL with her. I got several opportunities to test that out, and, it's not... exactly? true.
My L is higher these days, but it never got back to where it was early in my marriage. There's definitely still anxiety associated with sex, and the thought of spending a whole weekend in bed with someone is still deeply terrifying. Furthermore, while I enjoyed the act of sex, I always finished a sexual encounter feeling distinctly unfulfilled. It's hard to explain. I'd be laying there in bed and not feeling euphoric or fuzzy or happy or even necessarily sleepy, just... kind of empty. Whatever nebulous expectation I'd had for the encounter was still unmet, and I was kind of numb.
So I gave up on dating for a while, hoping to maybe get my shit together personally with some therapy and medication before diving back into the waters that had clearly screwed up my head the last time. During that time of no relationships and no sex, I discovered that sex is now not all that big a deal to me. I'm fine without it. It's like, I enjoy the act of sex, and if someone says "Hey, wanna have sex?", I'll probably enthusiastically say yes, but all the difficulties I associate with the "before" part and the "after" part just kind of makes it... not worth it? That is to say, I don't really miss it. On the occasions that I do miss it, fifteen minutes on Literotica completely fixes that. Meter reset to 0, all functions returned to normal, I can continue on with whatever I was doing in a fine mood.
I've started just identifying as gray/ace, sexually. It's more complicated than that, and I don't exactly fit the definition, but it's quick and simple and close enough to true to serve the purpose. I think I'm this way because my experiences fucked me up in the head, rather than because it's my in-born true sexual orientation, but, like, there's not an "it's complicated" flag and I really don't feel like the question of "what's your sexuality?" is best answered with a novel of a size that could have been written by a dead Russian.
I have a girlfriend now who I love very much, and she's also pretty firmly ace, so it works out well. She was kind of skeptical of me at first, which, I don't blame her, because, apparently, all of her previous relationships have at some point decided to try to "fix" her as soon as they got tired of not getting laid. But it's been over a year now; the cuddles are great, we have one less thing to fight about, and if it ever comes up that the stars align and we're both in the mood, I'll bet it'll be fantastic. But if that never comes up, that'll be fine too.
So that's the end of my story, on the astronomically small off-chance that anyone was still wondering how that all turned out.
Thanks to everyone in this community, for providing a safe place for me to ask questions and talk about my experiences, and for helping me gain some perspective on my situation, and especially for showing me where I could have been the one fucking things up, so I could go get the tools to explore the possibility and uncover more about what was happening. I hope the folks responsible for creating this place can continue to provide these services to folks on whatever platform ends up replacing Reddit.
EDITED TO ADD: I just remembered something that might also be interesting. So, back in the day, I posted about how we'd both taken the Mojo Upgrade questionnaire, which is a sort of sex quiz you take with a partner where you both, separately, answer Yes/Maybe/No to a long list of sexual activities. At the end, the quiz e-mails you only the results that you both said "Yes" or "Maybe" to. So, ostensibly, you don't have to directly reveal your darkest kink to your partner to find out if they're into it.
In my post, I mentioned that she said "Yes" to things were surprising and encouraging, but that it turned out to be misleading; they were only "Yes" in incredibly hyper-specific scenarios that would never realistically happen, and "No" otherwise.
WELL, IT WAS ACTUALLY WORSE THAN THAT
She admitted, some many months later, that she'd said "Yes" to literally everything so that she could see all the things I said "Yes" or "Maybe" to, in order to find out all my secret wicked little perversions. Everything she told me to explain her "Yes"s were on-the-spot lies to cover up the scheme.
So, like, heads up; a schemey person with dubious goals can game that quiz.
2023.06.10 07:18 oldYeller218 Wheels and tires
Hey all, I have a 2011 gmc Sierra 1500 and it has bushwhacker fender flares on it, and it looks great but.. I need wider tires or something. I’m going to get a 2.5 inch level kit on it soon. I would like the tires to stick out an inch or two. But I have no idea what kind of offset or what kind of sized tire and wheel I need with out breaking the bank. I’m also afraid of rubbing inside the wheel well. I will add pictures so you guys can see my truck.
submitted by oldYeller218 to gmc [link] [comments]
2023.06.10 07:08 nihilismismyname [A4GM][5e][[Online][Play by Post][1 on 1][5e][Homebrew][CST][17+][Long-Term] An Infernal Invasion!
"Fear the old blood; you've no idea the curse you have brought upon us," the old man said, his pale frame rested against the body of a large woman staring down at him. Her entire form was obfuscated by the thick, plated armor covering her body. The woman lets out a low growl as she plants a hand on his shoulder, and pushes him off of her blade. She stares down at the body, her expression behind her helmet remaining stern, unbroken, and unrelenting...
"You must be unrelenting," One of her... Mentors, of sorts, had told her all those years ago. His large muscular frame was imposing against the smaller, pale girl beneath him. Her arms and legs had white scales along them, and she had a tail not unlike a dragon's. On her back were two wings of matching color.
Her breathing was ragged and heavy, and in her arms was a battle axe she held limply. She had been much younger at the time, but was still quite large for her age. Still, her mentor had dwarfed her.
"This isn't fair!" She groaned. The axe was easily two sizes too large for her, and the energy required to wield it was clearly starting to take its toll on her.
"Life isn't fair, child. Do you think your enemy will give you a break if you get tired? Again," He responded, his voice as stern and uncaring as ever.
In a gust of flame, her mentor was gone, and she alone once more. Arms sore and shaking, she stands tall but tired against the red sand beneath her. She can barely lift the axe, leaving the blade to rest on the ground, as a portcullis across from her slowly opens.
Behind it, a chain devil stood. Its frame was lithe and strong despite the evidence of hunger being written across its body. It is quick to action upon the wall between them having been lifted, and begins to spin a hook at the end of one of its chains as it approaches. The woman shakily hefts her axe, resting it on her shoulder as she meets its gaze with one of her own-- one of equal parts determination and fear.
Hello all! My name is Nihilism, but you can just call me Nihil. My post is a bit long, so I'll be posting a condensed version here, with a more in-depth version here!
The basic concept I am looking for is a game wherein you and I would collaboratively make the world in which we tell the story of a Doom or Berserk style Demon Slayer; someone on a rage-fueled, heavy metal demon killing spree. The excerpt you read above is meant to show off the character I intend to play, alongside show as a sample of my writing style!
If all of this interests you, feel free to DM me! Before you do, though, here are some things to know about me:
Can't wait to see who responds~!
submitted by nihilismismyname to lfg [link] [comments]
"You must be unrelenting," One of her... Mentors, of sorts, had told her all those years ago. His large muscular frame was imposing against the smaller, pale girl beneath him. Her arms and legs had white scales along them, and she had a tail not unlike a dragon's. On her back were two wings of matching color.
Her breathing was ragged and heavy, and in her arms was a battle axe she held limply. She had been much younger at the time, but was still quite large for her age. Still, her mentor had dwarfed her.
"This isn't fair!" She groaned. The axe was easily two sizes too large for her, and the energy required to wield it was clearly starting to take its toll on her.
"Life isn't fair, child. Do you think your enemy will give you a break if you get tired? Again," He responded, his voice as stern and uncaring as ever.
In a gust of flame, her mentor was gone, and she alone once more. Arms sore and shaking, she stands tall but tired against the red sand beneath her. She can barely lift the axe, leaving the blade to rest on the ground, as a portcullis across from her slowly opens.
Behind it, a chain devil stood. Its frame was lithe and strong despite the evidence of hunger being written across its body. It is quick to action upon the wall between them having been lifted, and begins to spin a hook at the end of one of its chains as it approaches. The woman shakily hefts her axe, resting it on her shoulder as she meets its gaze with one of her own-- one of equal parts determination and fear.
Hello all! My name is Nihilism, but you can just call me Nihil. My post is a bit long, so I'll be posting a condensed version here, with a more in-depth version here!
The basic concept I am looking for is a game wherein you and I would collaboratively make the world in which we tell the story of a Doom or Berserk style Demon Slayer; someone on a rage-fueled, heavy metal demon killing spree. The excerpt you read above is meant to show off the character I intend to play, alongside show as a sample of my writing style!
If all of this interests you, feel free to DM me! Before you do, though, here are some things to know about me:
- I am 19! As such, I would like for my partners to at least be 17+!
- I am pansexual!
- I use Any/All Pronouns!
- Due to the above two points, I would obviously need my partner to be comfortable with both my identity and sexuality, and not bigoted!
- I draw a lot. Like a lot a lot. It is almost certain that I will draw something if the story is something that gets us particularly invested! I already have some art I am making for the character at the moment, too!!
- I tend to write a lot, especially whenever I have a lot of things to describe, or my muse for a particular situation is very high! As such, I can tend to write a large bit from time to time. Now, keep in mind that doesn’t mean all the time; when it comes to things like combat, dialogue, etc etc, that length is subject to change. There’s no specific amount of characters or words I am trying to reach, nor is there any expectation for you! As long as your post is well written, and I can see the effort you’re putting in, we’re good!
- I’ve been role playing and playing TTRPGs regularly for about 6 years now, and dabbling with them for about 9 or so. I’ve also been very into writing for 8, but have always wanted to make stories! I wouldn’t say I’m the best writer out there, but I am relatively experienced, and hope to make something interesting, engaging, and well written. Something worthwhile for both of us!
- I like to discuss with my partner what we are and aren’t comfortable with prior to starting, so expect me to ask that of you! Look below to see my TTRPG consent form!
- I'd prefer to run this in a Discord server for organization, ease of writing, and use of bots!
- I’ll admit, I’m a bit of a softie; I generally don’t prefer to kill off player characters! I like to have stories reach a more satisfying ending than “you die.” I’m here for a story, not a struggle to keep my character alive.
- I tend to write in third person past or present tense! I think I lean more towards present tense.
Can't wait to see who responds~!
2023.06.10 06:52 Sedna_ARampage 🖤🐼SuperBrat🤎🐻Bear💙🐨Guide🤍🐻❄️🤍
 | submitted by Sedna_ARampage to shittycoolguides [link] [comments] |
2023.06.10 06:41 HKToolCo Thanks to a Fellow Taco Owner
tl;dr Some people in the Taco community are awesome.
So this afternoon I'm driving out in the middle of nowhere central NY eastbound on Rte 17 . I've already driven 8 hours and I have another five to go before I get home. I'm hauling around 1000lbs of antique tools with two anvils in the bed and the double cab packed to the roof. My left rear tire explodes at 65mph on a downhill right hand curve and I can barely get it off the road safely. Plus it's raining. So I get out, unpack about 100 handsaws from the back seat, and get the jack kit out.
I've changed tires before, but never on the side of a highway and never on a Tacoma. I'm assembling the tool to drop the spare when a 1st gen Taco pulls up behind me and puts his hazards on. He stays about a hundred yards in back of me and a bit out into the right lane to try to warn the oncoming traffic that there's a breakdown ahead. The kid driving (I say kid but he's probably 20s and I'm 46 so everyone is a kid to me) walks over and offers me some help. He said he was driving the opposite way and saw a Taco pulled over with a flat. He must have gone to the next exit a couple of miles down the road, turned around, and came up behind me. We talk Tacomas for a bit while trucks are flying by a few feet away. We get the tire changed easily in less than 10 minutes. I offered him some money as thanks, but he said no. I made him take it because that's a damn decent thing to do for a total stranger. Plus I had some good luck last week so I decide to pass it on. I can't even remember his name. I just got home safe. The OEM tire is toast with only 6k miles on it- there's a thumb-sized blowout on the sidewall.
Thanks Taco dude.
submitted by HKToolCo to ToyotaTacoma [link] [comments]
So this afternoon I'm driving out in the middle of nowhere central NY eastbound on Rte 17 . I've already driven 8 hours and I have another five to go before I get home. I'm hauling around 1000lbs of antique tools with two anvils in the bed and the double cab packed to the roof. My left rear tire explodes at 65mph on a downhill right hand curve and I can barely get it off the road safely. Plus it's raining. So I get out, unpack about 100 handsaws from the back seat, and get the jack kit out.
I've changed tires before, but never on the side of a highway and never on a Tacoma. I'm assembling the tool to drop the spare when a 1st gen Taco pulls up behind me and puts his hazards on. He stays about a hundred yards in back of me and a bit out into the right lane to try to warn the oncoming traffic that there's a breakdown ahead. The kid driving (I say kid but he's probably 20s and I'm 46 so everyone is a kid to me) walks over and offers me some help. He said he was driving the opposite way and saw a Taco pulled over with a flat. He must have gone to the next exit a couple of miles down the road, turned around, and came up behind me. We talk Tacomas for a bit while trucks are flying by a few feet away. We get the tire changed easily in less than 10 minutes. I offered him some money as thanks, but he said no. I made him take it because that's a damn decent thing to do for a total stranger. Plus I had some good luck last week so I decide to pass it on. I can't even remember his name. I just got home safe. The OEM tire is toast with only 6k miles on it- there's a thumb-sized blowout on the sidewall.
Thanks Taco dude.
2023.06.10 06:34 catmaniabyt What is this wiring to and how do I fix it
 | I bought my first car a few months ago, a 2008 chevy uplander, guy told me the ac didn't work so he "mickey mouse'd it" and now the radiator fans run constantly at full rpm. And the he said so does the ac compressor. One random wire runs from fuse down to these connectors and another from a ground bolt down there. I believe I fixed the ac issue and wanna put it back to normal but I'm unsure how it's supposed to look/go, and help is appreciated. submitted by catmaniabyt to AskMechanics [link] [comments] |
2023.06.10 06:19 DobbariousRex Alignment issue
I've adjusted my 98 Subaru Forester many times. Shops too. I've done toe in, tow out, toe in one size and zeroed out another, and even zeroed it completely. I've been to alignment rack, done the strings, and even the tape measure. Why does my car keep pulling left? All 4 tires new with less than 500 miles and also pressure the same all 4 corners. Bushings?
submitted by DobbariousRex to subaru [link] [comments]
2023.06.10 06:14 Under_there_ Questions about 2019 2.7L - 3.73 axle ratio
I am considering buying a ‘19 F-150 (2.7L, 3.73 axle ratio). I realized that this specific truck checks every box (2.7L 502A lariat FX4) except the axle ratio. I’m not a car person so bare with me…
I want the 2.7L EB for its balance of great gas mileage, road tripping comfort, and turbo performance on high altitude (Colorado) mountain passes. Another thing to consider is I work remotely, so no commuting required.
Is the 3.73 axle ratio a deal breaker for my use case? I’m concerned about pointless MPG waste and high RPMs at interstate speeds. I have very minimal plans to tow and would not size up tires. Should I pass this deal up for a lower axle ratio? Thanks!
submitted by Under_there_ to f150 [link] [comments]
I want the 2.7L EB for its balance of great gas mileage, road tripping comfort, and turbo performance on high altitude (Colorado) mountain passes. Another thing to consider is I work remotely, so no commuting required.
Is the 3.73 axle ratio a deal breaker for my use case? I’m concerned about pointless MPG waste and high RPMs at interstate speeds. I have very minimal plans to tow and would not size up tires. Should I pass this deal up for a lower axle ratio? Thanks!
2023.06.10 06:11 smthngeneric tires for stock foxbody?
So I just picked myself up a 90 lx and I'm loving it so far. The only problem I've found is the tires are older than I am and perform as you'd expect for the age. What is the biggest/best tire I can fit on the stock 10 hole 15in wheels until I can get some other wheels I like? I think it is important to note that the car is on eibach lowering springs (2in drop I believe). It's got 225/60/15 tires on it now, what size and brand should I get?
submitted by smthngeneric to Mustang [link] [comments]
2023.06.10 06:11 DobbariousRex Alignment issue
I've adjusted my 98 Subaru many times. Shops too. I've done toe in, tow out, toe in one size and zeroed out another, and even zeroed it completely. I've been to alignment rack, done the strings, and even the tape measure. Why does my car keep pulling left? All 4 tires new with less than 500 miles and also pressure the same all 4 corners. Bushings?
submitted by DobbariousRex to MechanicAdvice [link] [comments]
2023.06.10 06:07 smthngeneric good tires for stock wheels?
So I just picked myself up a 90 lx and I'm loving it so far. The only problem I've found is the tires are older than I am and perform as you'd expect for the age. What is the biggest/best tire I can fit on the stock 10 hole 15in wheels until I can get some other wheels I like? I think it is important to note that the car is on eibach lowering springs (2in drop I believe). It's got 225/60/15 tires on it now, what size and brand should I get?
submitted by smthngeneric to Foxbody [link] [comments]
2023.06.10 06:06 Environmental-Yam490 94 with djm 3/4 drop tire/wheel questions
About to install my DJM 3/4 drop and can’t seem to find a solid answer on tire and wheel size. I’ll be getting either 16” or 17” Cragar soft 8s or d-windows but I don’t know what size tires to run or what offset wheels to get. I’d like to be pretty flush with the fenders. Help please.
submitted by Environmental-Yam490 to fordranger [link] [comments]