Micro wet and wavy braiding hair

New Golden Age Pomader

2015.04.22 19:55 Kevin_Atomic New Golden Age Pomader

Pomade, Hair Tonic, Dressing or Brilliante was the way to style hair from the early 1900s and pushed beyond the 1960s. Today there is a big resurgence of Pomade use and "micro brewers". Come discuss your favourites!

2023.03.27 02:19 WasabiLongjumping117 My friend dad

Everyone in this story is 18+
My roommate is a few years younger than me, still in college and his parents come to visit every now and then, nothing unusual. I’m openly into guys and he’s fine with that, I’ve lived with him for almost a year now and when his parents come up we all have dinner and talk as anyone would.
I’ve always noticed his dad a little too interested in the part of me that’s into guys, always asking an extra question or being a little too interested, to the point where his wife has told him to stop or not get so personal etc. I didn’t really think much of it, he’s a little bit older, in his late 40s I would guess (I’ve never asked). But if you looked up the definition of a silver fox, his picture would be right there. And I’ve made it known that when I bottom I’m more into older guys.
The last couple of times they’ve visited I’ve noticed him staring a little too long, I would catch his glance and he would look away. Signs I would usually think someone was checking me out, but I didn’t think much of it. That was until this weekend anyways.
My roommate just started his part time job, like most students do. And his parents were coming up for the weekend, or so I thought until only his dad arrives. They live a few hours away so they typically don’t do day trips and they sleep in the basement.
His dad gets there later on Friday night, we order some Momo and have a few local alcohol watching football typical guy stuff. Again I noticed the longer states and we locked eyes a few times but now he wouldn’t look away as soon. I was starting to think he might be into me but thought to myself no way..but it’s not like being married has stopped guys before.
I said I was heading up to bed, they said they’d had plans for tomorrow and wouldn’t be here when I got up. I stayed up a little later in my room playing video games, watching some porn and riding my dildo, typical Friday night.
I woke up at 10am or so and like many days horny as ever, not expecting anyone to be home I hopped in the shower to clean out and have a bit of a repeat from last night. My dildo deep in my ass with some nice porn. At this point I thought the house was empty, hadn’t heard anything to make me think otherwise.
So I go into my room leaving the door open (it feels like more fun), pull up a video of some young old gay taking a big cock, lube up my dildo and slide it in. After a few minutes I’m moaning and enjoying myself wishing I was in his position when I get that feeling that someone’s watching you, I look up and there’s his dad peering around the corner of my bedroom door. We make eye contact and I stop but don’t freak out, since I don’t really care anyways. I pull my blanket over my to cover me up, leaving the porn going.
“Oh shit, I thought you guys would be gone?” I said apologetically and confused. I knew he was watching.
“(Friend name here) got asked to go into work for a few hours, so I was out getting tea and got back while you were showering. I couldn’t help myself but investigate once I heard you..” he stepped from around the corner into the doorway, had on a pair of \ shorts which couldn’t hide his raging hard on.
At this point I was so horny and he was there, hot and hard. I had to shoot my shot right?
“So he won’t be back for a couple more hours then? That’s a shame to leave you all alone when you came to visit. You can close the door..if you want.” I made sure to say the last bit seductively giving him a hint. Before he answered I flipped the blanket off and slid my dildo back inside me.
“You don’t mind if I…stay here?” He said a little hesitantly.
I looked back at him while fucking my hole “you can do whatever you want” and winked before looking back to my computer screen.
When I looked back he had his shorts off and cock out, stroking while he watched me and fuck it was hot. Both his cock and him watching me. I repositioned and pointed my ass at him, every now and then I would take the dildo out and wink at him with my gaping hole.
I looked back and nodded at him to come over, with no hesitation he walked over with his cock in his hand. He got to the edge of my bed and I rolled over onto my stomach, pushing his hand out of the way wrapping mine around his thick shaft. He was much bigger than he looked from a distance, even bigger than my dildo. At least 6” and thick like a red bull can, cut with well kept black and grey pubes. I needed him inside me.
I licked from his balls up his shaft, just then he backed away “I don’t think I should do this” he said staring into my eyes, but I knew he wanted to.
“Don’t worry I won’t tell anyone, it will be out secret. And just by looking at you I think you could use it” he was throbbing hard, the tip of his thick cock bright red.
I reached out and grabbed his cock again lightly pulling him in, when the tip of his cock reached my face I opened wide and took him in my mouth. It was at this point any doubt he had went out the window, I think he wanted he as bad as I wanted him.
I took most of him down my throat before I gagged, he let out a string of soft moans as I started working his shaft. “Mmmm” “ohh fuckkkk” “yeahhh just like that”. As I bobbed you and down fondling his sack while I swirled my tongue around his cock with every stroke. My spit began running from his cock down to his balls, I quickly started sucking them to catch it as I stroked his soaking wet cock.
Anyway Sucking cock is a huge turn on for me. I love the way it feels - the skin is unbelievably soft, but the flesh underneath is unyielding - the more unyielding it is, the more of a turn on it is because an erection is physical proof that I am turning the guy on. I love that feeling so much.Penises are incredibly responsive and each one is unique and interesting. It's fun to find someone's sensitive spots and to see what they like. It's fun to feel the difference between slow and fast, soft and rough (not too rough!!). I love looking up and seeing how overwhelmed a guy is by the sensation. I love the noises he makes if he's the type to moan. I love it when he runs his fingers through my hair and has to struggle not to grab too hard. I love it when his thighs shake and his hips buck and move helplessly when I'm doing something really fantastic. I love, love, love it when a guy cums for me.I am a swallower. I don't mind the taste of cum, but I get a little weird about the texture - swallowing makes that easier to handle since it disappears from my mouth right away. I also love a guy's reaction when I swallow, and the way his cock twitches as I use my mouth to gently tease him after he cums. I love how, afterwards when I crawl back up to kiss him and rub his chest, he clings to me for dear life and tells me how amazing it was. I love the hard kisses he gives me when words fail him.Yeah, I really love it.
“How’s that feel?” I said looking up at him stroking his cock
“Soo fucking good” he moaned looking into my eyes.
I dove back down on his cock, grabbing his hand and guiding it to my hole, I wanted those manly fingers inside me. He started rubbing it and as he slide his first finger in I forced my head as far down his cock as I could, but I couldn’t take it all.
He quickly went from one, to two, then three and four fingers stretching me out. My muffled moans rang out over his cock “mmmmm” “ughhhh” I love a man’s fingers inside me.
I tasted his first bit of pre cum, it was so sweet and salty, but where there’s pre cum that means he’s getting close. And I still wanted him to fuck me.
I lifted my head of his cock and sat up, “fuck me” I said looking into his eyes. He grabbed me and pulled me in sticking his tongue down my throat. His stubble scraped my face as I tasted his spit and he tasted himself while I began rubbing our cocks together.
I leaned back pulling him down ontop of me, without breaking our kiss I reached down guiding the tip of his cock to my hole. It was already stretched and lubed enough. “Do you have a condom” he asked,
“I do…if you want it..I’m clean and trust you are” married men are the least of my worries when it comes to STIs.
Before the last word left my lips he thrusted himself inside me, he wasn’t the one who wanted the condom but I respected him for asking. “Ohh fuckkkk” I moaned as my hole wrapped around his thick cock.
I pulled his head back down to make out with him as he began sliding in and out of my hole, his big cock stretched me out just right and rubbed my insides perfectly. I instantly started leaking pre cum like a fire hose. I moaned into his mouth as we kissed, harder I pleaded.
He sat bad and grabbed my hips starting to pound me “yess just like that, fuck my ass” fast and hard turned to slow and hard as the house filled with the sounds of his skin slapping against me. “Mmm good boy, take that cock” he moaned as he fucked me harder and harder. I knew I wasn’t the first guy he’d fucked right then.
“Mmm I love how full your cock makes me feel” I moaned as he kept pounding away.
Then he laid down beside me “ride this dick and work for my cum.”
“Yes sir” I said as I climbed up and mounted him, I guided his cock back to my hole and sat myself on it, we were both moaning as I started working my hips and bouncing on his cock. “Mmm fuckk you feel soo good. Keep going just like that” I bounced faster and harder while I reached back with one hand to play with his balls. My pre cum was covering his stomach as I worked his cock.
“Oh shit, oh shit oh shitt im gonna cum” He almost screamed. He didn’t move or grab me, leaving it up to me where I wanted his cum and that’s not much of a question. “Yess fill me up, give me that big load” I moaned as I kept bouncing.
I felt his balls get tighter and then the first pulse of his cock and his first rope hitting my guts. I sat myself down putting his cock as deep in me as possible, wiggling my hips a bit as he shot rope after rope into me. My insides were getting filled with warm cum as I stroked myself cause I was close too, he quickly pushed my hand out of the way layering my pre cum on my cock for lube and stroked me.
Just as he was finished cumming I exploded my load onto his chest, 5 or 6 pretty good ropes of cum. I sat there on his cock for a second as I finished my orgasm “mmm fuuuckk” I moaned.
I climbed off and sucked out every last drop, tasting a mixture of his cum, lube and my ass off his cock. When I looked up he was eating some of my cum off his fingers. So hot.
I stood up and quickly felt his cum running down my leg, and grabbed some tissue to catch it. He was getting his clothes back on.
“Now remember, this is between us. I know where you live” he said with a smile as he walked out of my room.
I sat on the bed still not fully believing what just happened, but boy am I ever glad it did.
submitted by WasabiLongjumping117 to gayyoungold [link] [comments]

2023.03.27 02:07 Trash_Tia I've been talking to the boy next door through my bedroom window for a while. His latest messages are freaking me out.

I want to talk to you about the boy next door.
I first noticed him when we arrived here. Mom was moving in all of our boxes and furniture, and I was sitting on one of mom’s boxes labelled “fragile” downing ice-cold lemonade.
It wasn’t exactly the weather for cold drinks, but I was pooped after spending my morning and half of my afternoon going back and forth with all of our stuff. It was just a glimpse.
One of the movers asked me to help him with a box of kitchen equipment. I was struggling to get a proper grip of it, twisting around to shout that I needed help—when I saw him.
Not much of a person, more of a shadow poking from behind the fence. What I could make out was a tallish figure and mousey hair.
I lifted my hand in a greeting, but the guy walked away. I didn’t think much of it.
Maybe he was shy.
Though I was curious about my neighbors. I was expecting them to join the parade of families on our doorstep harbouring every food you can imagine, but they stayed away. I did know a family existed next door, however. There was a large wooden fence separating us. So, if I really wanted to talk to them I’d either have to grow several feet taller or invest in stilts. I’m not sure why I was so obsessed with meeting them.
I knew they had kids my age. I could hear them.
Whether they were arguing over video games, or laughing at something trivial, I could always hear them when I was sitting on our wooden porch or helping mom clean our yard.
According to mom, who heard it from the nice lady across the street, our neighbors were called the Wilders.
There was a single mom, and her four teenage kids.
Huh, I thought. So the mystery shadow guy must have been a Wilder kid.
I was told to not get too excited, though. Apparently, Mrs Wilder was very protective over her children and home-schooled them.
So, there was no chance of me making friends or even getting to know them. On our second day in our new home, mom told me over breakfast that Mrs Wilder had sent out a polite notice to the neighbourhood that her children were not to be disturbed or talked to. Which was crazy. I thought that was weird. But mom understood it—and to my annoyance, accepted the woman’s notice. I was warned not to talk to the Wilder children.
And if I did, that was an automatic week grounding. Which meant no diner, no seeing friends after school, and my phone privileges taken away. According to her, she figured they were just a private family and wanted to accept that. She theorised the kids had been bullied at public school and had to be home-schooled. But I was sceptical. “All of them?” I’d asked her through a mouthful of cereal.
“Phoebe.” Mom sent me a warning look, sipping her coffee. “What we’re going to do is respect Mrs Wilder’s wishes.”
“It’s child abuse.” I muttered into my frosted flakes. Only for mom to reach across the table and poke me with the prongs of her fork.
“Don’t play with your food.”
“I’m not playing with my food.” I held up a spoonful of soggy cereal. “You just never get the chocolate brand. These taste like sandpaper.”
“We are going to be respectable neighbors,” mom said, ignoring me. “So, you are not going to speak to those kids. Do you understand?”
I knew mom only wanted to abide by the weird rules because she was obsessed with joining the mom’s club, or whatever they were called, but it didn’t make sense to me that his woman wasn’t letting her own kids have a social life.
At a younger age, maybe eleven or twelve, I could understand. But seventeen? That was almost college age. What, was she expecting to coddle them forever?
Did she really think these kids were going to stay with her? Seventeen was the age of finding first loves and making mistakes. Not staying at home with mommy dearest. “Okay, but would you do this to me?” I asked her. “Would you really lock me up and stop me from going outside and living my life?”
Mom had been spreading butter on bread. I didn’t realise her mood had drastically changed until she was almost slicing her finger with the knife. “You don’t know this yet because you are far too young,” she lifted her head, her lips curving into a smile. “But there is something called a mother’s instinct. When our children are born, we are overcome with an almost… feral need to protect them from danger. If you look it up, it is present is every creature. Every mother. Our children are worth more than ourselves. We give our own lives to keep them alive. You can roll your eyes and say it’s stupid, but I’m sure as soon as you have your own child, you will feel the exact same with them.”
She nodded at me. “I had that with you. I… I still have it with you, Phoebe. No matter how old you are. When you were a baby, I wanted to hold you in my arms every second of every day. I hated it when people wanted to hold you, and you were such a clingy baby. Always cradled to my chest. As you grew up, I started to understand that you were seeing the world for the first time and you needed your own time and space. I let you take your first steps on your own. I cried when you said your first word—and when I grabbed your hand and raced down the kindergarten steps for the first time. Letting you go was painful. And if I had a choice in the matter? Yes, I would keep you in here. I would stop you from going outside and seeing this world.” She dropped the knife with a startling, metallic clang, before picking it back up.
“Because this planet is a scary place, Phoebe. And as mother’s, it is our job to keep our kids safe. Even if that means going to the slightest of extremes.”
“Slightest of extremes?” I scoffed, despite knowing I was being pedantic. “They have to fly the nest! That’s called growing up!”
Ignoring her glare, I continued.
“Yes, I believe in mother’s instinct. But at what point do you have to look at yourself and realise you’re being ridiculous? Seventeen year olds aren’t infants. They won’t just blindly walk into traffic. They have self-awareness of what is wrong and right.”
I pointed at myself. “You let me drive, right? I got my license. Where was your ‘mother instinct’ when I got myself a big-girl vehicle I could easily have an accident in?”
Mom curled her lip. “Don’t push it.”
Leaning across the table, I fixed her with a smile. “See? You trust me, mom. You let me grow up. That’s the difference between you and Mrs Wilder. Kids have to grow up. No matter what the circumstances are. It’s just part of being human. We all grow up and leave our parents.”
I sent her a look, stirring the soggy soup of my cereal. “Well. Unless you’re Mrs Wilder.”
Mom finished her coffee and stood up. “You don’t even know these children. They could be in any stage of development which makes them very different to you. All kids mentally age at different points.”
She took her plate to the faucet and dumped it in the bowl. Mom washed the dishes when she was angry or stressed, and she was really going to town on our brand new pattern plates. I saw that as a mark of finality. “I’m done talking about this, okay? You’re not eighteen yet which means you abide by my rules, and really, Phoebe, I’m not exactly holding you prisoner. I’m just asking you to be polite and follow a simple rule which is not hard. We are a new family, and we need to make a good impression. Which means no talking to Mrs Wilder’s children.” She cleared her throat.
“Respect our neighbour’s wishes or lose your phone.”
Ducking my head, I continued to stir my cereal into a mushy soup which had quickly become unappetising. It looked like barf. I pushed it away. “You only want me to follow the rules so you can get into Mrs Becker’s book club and go on Pilate dates with middle aged Karen’s.”
Mom dropped a plate in the sink, and the sound of the splash made me flinch slightly.
“Is that understood?”
“Yes.” I said, rolling my eyes. “Obviously, I will abide by this street’s draconian rules so I can continue scrolling through Tik-Tok.”
It was sarcasm, but I wasn’t sure my mother could detect it. She was so blinded by becoming one with our neighbors.
Why was she so obsessed with meeting all the other mom’s anyway?
Was she planning on setting me up on a playdate with 3 year old Evie? I wouldn’t put it past her doing that for the brownie points.
“Good. End of conversation.” Mom said, hurrying to get her jacket and bag. “I’m late for work, and you have an induction to get to.”
I wanted to argue further because this sounded unfair. The kids were teenagers, right? How were they not arguing against this? It seemed insane that they were going along with what their mother said. But I was aware of significant punishment if I broke this rule. So, I begrudgingly agreed. After my induction, I asked around new friends and classmates if anybody knew of the Wilder kids, and they did.
But they didn’t want to elaborate on what they knew. I heard a lot of rumours with dead ends. Most of them involved a father who had walked out on them, and their mother going into ultra-protective mode in response. It sounded like these kids were bearing the brunt of a messy divorce. They were complete enigma’s.
I didn’t know anything about them except from their insanely overprotective mother’s wicked grip on them. I gave up being curious. Mom was serious about me not speaking not them. She gave me a lecture on respecting the woman’s privacy, and blah, blah, blah. I tuned out after five minutes, my attention flicking to an episode of Breaking Bad playing on the lounge TV.
The next few weeks were boring. Mom was invited to join Mrs Beck’s book club, so on Monday’s at 5PM, I made myself scarce. I did exactly what mom said. I ignored the kids next door. My bedroom happened to be facing the room of one of the kids, but their dark blue curtains were always shut. Sometimes it was hard. When I was sitting in the yard, reading a book, I could hear them on the other side of the fence.
The boys were the most vocal, laughing and teasing each other. There was a point when I risked it. I jumped to my feet and got halfway across the expanse of grass, standing on the tips of my toes and trying to catch a peek. But mom was calling me inside. I swore she had eyes in the back of my head. Mom always knew when I was outside. When I was near the fence.
It wasn’t until a month had gone by when I finally got a glimpse of a Wilder kid. I had just gotten back from school. I’d dumped my backpack on my bed and grabbed my phone, slumping onto my bed to text my friends and mindlessly scroll through social media. I noticed movement at the corner of my eye, and when I’d lifted my head, blinking rapidly—those same blue curtains which had shut me out for what felt so long—they were open. Not just that.
I could see a bedroom smothered in personality. I glimpsed a hardwood desk strewn with paper and an expensive laptop, a blue bedspread, a beaten up guitar leaning against light green walls covered in old-school movie posters.
There were screwed up pieces of paper everywhere. I had to guess he was some kind of artist. The room was illuminated in the evening dim, a soft warm light bringing the room to life. A knock startled me, and my gaze flicked to the window.
There he was. The Wilder boy next door.
He was my age, maybe even older. This guy looked almost college aged. Which made it increasingly weirder that his mother would insist on babying him at the age of seventeen.
He was cute. The dorky kind of cute. He wore bulky glasses but was the type to instantly suit pretty much anything. If I could compare him to anyone, it would be the mental image in my head that my younger self had imagined Percy Jackson when I reads the books.
The guy looked comfortable in a sweater and jeans, mousey brown hair hanging in warm eyes. There was an inquisitive smile on his lips. I jumped up to open my window to speak to him, but he shook his head—and I quickly remembered his mother’s stupid rule which forbid us from talking. So, I got creative.
Give me a moment! I mouthed.
I expected him to ignore me and go back to what he was doing, but the guy straightened up and nodded, arching a brow.
He was intrigued.
I grabbed an old notebook and a pen and sat on my bed, scribbling a message. I wrote: “Hello! So, you’re the kid under house arrest lmao.”
When I held it up, his smile pricked. He laughed. But I couldn’t hear it. I could tell he had a dorky kind of laugh, a nasally one. The guy held up a hand for me to wait and rummaged on his desk. He quickly wrote out a message and held it up with a grin. He looked almost proud of his own message, and I couldn’t resist my own smile. I expected him to curse his mother, maybe apologise for the lack of communication.
But instead, he simply wrote: “Hello! What’s your name?” Followed by a slightly smudged smiley.
After a moment of consideration, mom’s words echoing in my mind, I thought fuck it. “Phoebe.” I said. “Yours?”
“It’s nice to meet you, Phoebe.” He responded. Which spanned multiple conversations which took up several of my notepads.
We talked about everything from school to his life at home. He had three siblings. Matilda, Freddie, and Issac. He liked to play the guitar and draw, but also apparently sucked at both. When I asked what his favourite TV show was, he looked confused for a moment before answering “All of them”. Following that odd answer, I asked if he liked Marvel, and again, he had that look again. A look of confusion.
But I knew he was trying to make a good impression. “What is Marvel?” He wrote back, this time his handwriting in a bubbly font. I could almost call his writing calligraphy. It practically danced off of the page. The Wilder boy’s strange answers made wonder if this kid had been home-schooled his whole life. He seemed way too polite. Kids were polite, sure.
There was a certain amount of respect you had to pay to your elders and parents.
But looking at this kid, I wasn’t even sure he knew what a meme was—or even the concept of a joke. He had no idea about one of the biggest movie franchise in the world, and his favourite celebrity was apparently “All of them”. In fact, he had answered “All of them” to several of my questions. His messages reminded me of my grandma’s. Still though, he was good company. Though I made it my mission to convert him into a normal teenager.
I had to guess due to constantly being home and around the same people, this kid had zero social skills. I asked him what his favourite movie was, out of the posters on the wall. He had Kill Bill, Reservoir Dogs, and Fight Club.
Again, he looked confused. His head cocked to the side, and I had to physically point to them behind him.
“All of them.” He wrote back with a smiley face.
Damn, this kid needed to see a movie which wasn’t some educational shit. I bet his mother had turned him into perfect member of society.
“What have you seen?” I couldn’t help asking him. “Like, movies, TV shows. Do you play video games?”
He shook his head before scribbling back. “What is that?”
Holy shit, this kid was completely cut off from the outside world.
I was already mentally thinking up plans to get him out of the house and to a party, or something like that. From the look of this kids face—a slightly blank if not completely innocent smile—he needed time away from home. Away from his overprotective mother’s wicked grasp.
After a while, I realised he never told me his name. I didn’t notice time go by. Almost three hours, and I’d spent most of it lecturing him on movies and TV shows he really should have known. I guessed Mrs Wilder didn’t let him watch the TV. My gaze flicked to his laptop. And I wouldn’t have been surprised if she had blocked out all social media. My notepad was full of scribbles and doodles, an attempt at copying his handwriting style. The sky was blooming into twilight outside, thick orange and cotton candy pink streaking the horizon. I have always loved a pre-twilight sky.
“What’s your name?” I wrote in marker pen, before holding up my notepad. I was running out of paper. I could hear mom downstairs preparing dinner, and I could tell from his diminishing smile Mrs Wilder was probably shouting for him to go downstairs.
He didn’t reply for a while. I watched him put the pad down, before heading over to his desk and cleaning up the paper—every trace we had been talking and dumping each response he’d given in the trash. Before he slumped onto his bed, wrote something down in several strokes, before holding it up for me to see. “Casper.” He’d written. “My name is Casper Wilder.”
For a moment, his expression changed completely. He glanced at the door, before frowning at the pad of paper in his lap.
It looked like he wanted to write more, before twisting around, his eyes widening. Someone was coming. I could tell by the look on his face.
The knot between his brows.
Casper gathered everything he’d been using to write to me, pens and pencils, scraps of paper and the backs of movie posters, and shoving them under his bed. Then he grabbed the curtains and pulled them closed, blocking me out once again. I thought he’d come back, but after standing like an idiot with an odd feeling in my gut, frowning at his curtains, I realised he was finished talking to me for the night. What I expected was that to be it. I didn’t think he’d come back. The next morning, however, he was back at his window, smiling at me through a mouthful of toothpaste. He was still in his pyjamas, unbrushed curls falling in sleepy eyes.
He looked strange without his glasses. Like his face was too bare. The more I took him in, though. Something was… different. Though I couldn’t make it out. It hit me then.
Casper wasn’t moving, staying in the same position. The night before, he had gone to and from his bed, hurrying around to grab equipment to write with. But now he was stood, looking more shadow than human. I was quick to dive for my notepad, but Casper was already holding up his own greeting with a grin. “Good morning, Phoebe! How are you feeling today?”
“Tired.” I wrote back, my writing barely comprehensible. “Do you have school?”
“YES.” He responded with an excited smile. “I’m so excited to learn! Do you have a favourite class?”
I laughed at that. And after looking confused, he copied my laugh. Which made me laugh harder.
“None of them!” I scribbled back. “School is boring!”
Casper shrugged. “I like it. I have a great tutor.”
“Really?” This time, I drew an attempt at the rolling eyes emoji. “You shouldn’t be excited for school. Weirdo.”
He curled his lip. “You’re the weirdo.” He wrote back. Casper paused, chewing on the lid of the pen, before writing, “What’s a weirdo?”
“You’re kidding!” This time, with too much vigour, I pointed to him with a laugh. “You! You’re the weirdo!”
We talked as I got ready for school, gathering all my books and homework. I was stuffing my gym clothes in my bag, when I noticed something was on the ground behind Casper. Looking closer, it looked like a chord. Like a long cable sort of thing. I thought it was for a games console, but then I remembered he had no idea what a video game was. I didn’t question what it was for a while. We talked every night, about everything and nothing.
I told Casper about school and friends, filling up every piece of paper we had in the house, and he told me about his siblings. They were all the same age, and all enjoyed school. His brother was a piano prodigy, while his sister’s strongest subjects were math. Casper told me he felt like the odd one out being the artist of the family, and I quickly told him that creativity was the best part of a person.
He showed me his drawings. And to my confusion, and slight disgust, they were all of his mother. They were good—sure. His skills were Ivy League worthy. Perfect shading. Everything about the drawings were perfect.
But the fact that his muse was his mother—it put a weird taste in my mouth. He showed me each drawing, his smile widening with excitement. While I nodded and pretended to be impressed. Well, I was.
Though it became startlingly obvious that Casper didn’t have a choice who he drew. He didn’t draw fruit or landscapes, or even the sky. We live in a picturesque town, the perfect canvas for an artist. However, Mrs Wilder was at the centre of every single fucking drawing and painting, ink blot. Even with different styles and angles, she was always there. And Casper Wilder saw no wrong in it. He saw absolutely no fucking wrong in this woman taking control of every aspect of his life. His social life, his friends, education and hobbies.
I half expected him to grab his guitar and start singing about her through the glass. I couldn’t take it anymore. It was driving me crazy. We continued to talk through writing to each other, but soon enough the only subject was his mother. Casper asked me if I could rate a drawing he was working on. It was her. Of course it was. I ignored him, getting to my feet and holding up the sign I had written weeks before. But I was too scared to show him.
I didn’t want to ruin our friendship, but I had to know. I had to know several things which had been keeping me up all night
“Why are you okay with your mother controlling your life?” I asked in bold letters.
And below that: “Also… I’ve been wondering this for a while. But what is that thing behind you?”
The thing behind him was at the centre of my thoughts. I’d worked out it wasn’t a chord for a TV or a games console. Not even a laptop, or for his guitar. Not to mention it was always there. Morning and evening, even at night when I spied him getting ready for bed. This thing was always on the floor, snaked across his bed. Sometimes it was even wrapped up on his desk. I couldn’t understand the length of it. I asked friends at school, and even the internet. But my descriptions didn’t do it justice. A long, silver chord like thing which didn’t have an end.
Casper blinked at my message. Before he ducked his head and started writing before holding up his response.
“I love my mom.” He said, doodling a little heart. “She doesn’t control my life. I like that she’s in it.”
Below that, a follow up message which twisted my gut. “What do you mean? I don’t see anything, Phoebe.”
Tapping my pad with my pen, I struggled to think of a response. There was no way he couldn’t see this thing. It was pretty hard to miss. Instead of writing, I pointed behind him.
“That!” I mouthed, using my lips for the first time. It felt good to actually talk to him. Even if a window of glass separated us.
“What?” His handwriting was slipping slightly. And I noticed his hands were visibly shaking. “What can you see, Phoebe?”
This time, he stood up. I noticed something change in him, the notepad slipping off his knee. Casper turned around, scanning the room.
Before his eyes finally found the cord-thing. His smile seemed to dampen, eyes going wide, fists clenching.
“Casper?” I hurriedly wrote when he didn’t move for a while. His gaze was glued to the chord. I watched his eye follow it around the room, before his hand slowly raised, trembling fingers moving to his neck, and then the back of his head. Was there an insect? That’s what I thought. It must have been a spider, or some kind of bug which had startled him. I could only describe his expression as close to catatonic. He stood up, but then quickly slumped back down. But not like it was his choice. As if he was being dragged back down by an unseen force. Like one minute I was looking at Casper Wilder, and then I was seeing a stranger. A completely different person take over a rapidly paling face. Something snapped inside my gut when he moved forwards suddenly, his arms lunging out to close the curtains.
But that wasn’t the end of what I saw. The boy had unknowingly left a splinter, a tiny gap allowing me to glimpse. I expected him to react to whatever had freaked him out. But instead, he simply flopped back onto his bed. This time, I noticed the silver chord jolt with his movement. He was already asleep, his eyes closed. I watched him, my heart diving into my throat. There was no way he just fell asleep like that. It was too fast.
Mrs Wilder came into his room soon after. But I only got a glimpse of her because she was already striding over to the window. I ducked behind my bed, panic creeping up my spine. I expected the woman to start yelling at me through the window, but instead she simply pulled the curtains properly shut. Mrs Wilder definitely saw me. And even if she didn’t, Casper’s messages to me were still piled on his bedsheets. I was left completely in the dark, then. I stood and pressed my face against the window, fully aware that I was addicted to the mystery surrounding my neighbour.
My mind began to wonder to uncertain and scary places.
What exactly was Casper’s mother doing to him behind the curtain? I wanted to believe she was simply tucking him in and saying goodnight, but the strange chord-like thing on the ground, and how he’d reacted to noticing it—for what seemed like the first time. His change in expression, like a different person had taken over him, and that person was… scared.
Catatonic. I refused to believe Mrs Wilder was innocent. I waited for him to draw his curtains again—but he didn’t. Casper’s window stayed completely blocked for days. I stopped hearing his siblings in the yard, and after days of nothing, mom reiterated her warning to me over dinner. “No communication with the Wilder children,” she told me. “Which includes notes and letters.”
So, Mrs Wilder knew we were talking.
I wondered if she was punishing her son for breaking the rules—and that was why he had been MIA for the last few days.
“There’s something wrong with Casper.” I worked up the courage to tell mom “The boy next door. I think Mrs Wilder is hurting him.”
“Hurting him?”
“Yeah, like…” I frowned. “I think she can make him go to sleep when she wants.” I pulled a face. “Like, hypnotism—or maybe even drugs.”
“Mmm hmm.”
“Drugs, mom.” I said. “Mrs Wilder is drugging her seventeen year old son!”
“That’s nice, honey.”
“Are you even listening to me?” I leaned across the table, stabbing the page of her book. “Mom! Casper Wilder is a total blank slate!”
“I’ve told you a thousand times. She’s protecting them,” she hummed. “You have just seen far too many crime dramas—and your generation have been poisoned by the likes of crime entrainment. Finding what you think is your own mystery must be fun, but you are reaching, baby.”
“Reaching?” I prodded my own temple. “I’m sorry, were you not listening when I told you he doesn’t even know what video games are?”
Mom was acting weird. Usually, she talked about school with me, and at least tried to engage in conversation, but she was too busy reading the book Mrs Becker has recommended her. It was like talking to a brick.
“You’re being ridiculous, Phoebe,” she turned over a page with a sigh. “I’ve spoken to his mother. She’s a lovely woman. We’re having lunch next week. I met her in the grocery store."
“What a coincidence,” I shot her a look over my phone. I was looking up child abuse helplines. “You’re suddenly best friends with the neighborhood witch when I’m caught talking to her son.” Dropping my phone for emphasis, I stood up. “If you would just listen to me—"
“That’s enough.” Mom cut me off. She finished her coffee, grabbing her jacket from where it was slung over a chair. “Stay out of trouble, okay? I’m heading back to work. I’ve left cash if you want to order pizza. You have other interests, alright? Please. Leave Mrs Wilder alone. This obsession you have with her kids is unhealthy. Why don't you stick to fiction, hm?"
Yeah, no.
As soon as she was gone, I sprinted to my room to see if Casper’s curtains were open. To my dismay, though. They weren’t.
Frustrated, I yanked mine shut too.
Slumping onto my bed, I continued looking up helplines. I got bored soon after and started googling chords and wires which fit the description of what I’d seen.
There was a match, though it was on a weird medical website which looked like it had been made in 2005. The interface was outdated, and according to the description, it was some kind of clamping device. There were a lot of words I didn’t know, and after further googling, I was getting increasingly more confused. Until my gaze flicked to a section at the bottom of the page. According to whoever wrote it, the chord in question was experimental. There weren’t many in circulation, but it was mainly used in medical centres such as specialist surgeries and hospitals. When I scrolled down, there was a diagram which showed a long chord-like thing labelled as “The body” and a sharp looking needle. Something warm crept up my throat and I sat up, frowning at the screen. Was that it? Was that thing the end?
And what did this thing even connect to?
A sudden THUD made me almost jump out of my skin. I slid off my bed.
It was coming from my window. My curtains were still shut, blowing in the slight breeze. Slowly, I made my way over, my spine tingling.
The first thing I saw was red. Bright, intense scarlet spattering the Wilder boy's window. Then I glimpsed Casper. He was slamming his face into the glass, over and over again, his already bleeding nose exploding with more red. But it wasn't the boy I knew. The kid I had gotten to know over the last few months. No. This kid was a mess of torn up clothes, bruises yellowing his eyes and scratches sliced into his flesh. My first thought was his mom. She must have done this to him. But then my gaze was finding his bloodied nails, and claw marks on his arms and cheeks. There was something white wrapped around his head, a bandage.
I could glimpse red leaking through, smudging clinical white and pooling down his temples in sharp rivulets. Casper's eyes were an enigma in themselves, a mixture of fear and confusion, and almost feral look of anger and frustration. But the twitch in his lip and between his brow, was evident that something was fighting that.
Emotions and feelings he wasn't feeling himself.
It was like looking at two different guys. One was Casper, the artist who lived next door, who ended every message with a smiley. While this twisted other self, a self which was broken out and was feral in his expression, was a whole other person. I started to realise the more I looked at him, at the mess of flesh and blood caught between his nails, and his trembling hands every so often creeping to the back of his skull before jolting and coming back to curl into fists, battering the window--- he had clawed into his own head.
Immediately, I reached for my phone. But he already knew what I was going to do.
“No!” He mouthed, shaking his head—so I grabbed my notepad. I could barely write.
“What’s going on?” I held up my pad. “Are you okay? You’re fucking bleeding!”
Instead of using a pen and paper, Casper squinted, blinking rapidly. His handwriting was different, a manic scrawl, as he wrote in the explosion of blood on the window.
When he twisted around, his gaze going to the door, the breath caught in my throat. Someone was yelling his name. I could tell by his reaction. His bloodied fingers clawed at his face and hair, at bald patches and rugged stitches lining his scalp and the back of his skull. They kept going, a narrow line of stitches all the way down his neck, and presumably his spine.
My thoughts flashed back to the equipment I’d been looking up. This kind of thing was designed to bury into the brain and spinal cord. I looked for it, but the thing was nowhere to be seen on him. It was no longer on the floor. Casper struggled to write coherently. I notice he kept swearing, his finger smudging the words he was trying to write. This was more like it, I thought. This was the kind of boy I had expected to be the kid next door. “Fuck.” He shook his head, his movements erratic as one hand went to the back of his head and came back slick with glistening red.
He slammed his fists into the window in frustration, but I was already seeing his message start to blossom and make sense.
Casper was crying. I could see that he could barely breathe, struggling to inhale, swiping at his eyes with smudged fists.
I started to back away, but he continued. When he’d finished, he wrote it again and again, growing more and more fraught.
I jumped when he slammed his head into the glass of the window again. At first a part of me thought he was using his blood for paint.
So he was intentionally hurting himself to draw more.
But his words spelled it out for me in black and white.
Who am I? He wrote. WHO AM I? WHO AM I WHO AM I? WHO AM I?
This time I could barely even read my own handwriting. I held up a scrap of paper.
I gestured to the bandage on his head, and he stumbled back, wild eyes searching for something to write with.
“THAT WOMAN.” He scribbled in block capitals.
“THAT WOMAN IS NOT MY FUCKING MOM.” He wrote, before he dropped to his knees. He was still writing but failing to show me.
I don’t know who I am.
He wrote the same thing 12 times, before tearing up the paper and burying his head in his lap.
I gave up writing messages.
“Casper!” I shouted.
Then I threw a rock at his window, and he lifted his head, blinking rapidly.
Gesturing for him to open up his window, he struggled with the latch for a moment before pulling it open.
I stuck my head out of my own window, cold air hitting me in the face. “I’m going to help you.” I managed to choke out. “Hold on, okay?”
Casper clawed at his face. "Help me." His voice was a sharp hiss. "Please help me. I don't know who I..." His fingernails ripped into the flesh of his cheeks, but he barely seemed to feel it, to be fazed. They kept going, digging into layer after layer. "I don't know who I am." He jumped up suddenly trashing his desk and throwing his laptop against the wall. He reminded me of a child having a tantrum. In this case though, it was more than acting out. I was sure that Casper Wilder didn’t exist. "I don't know who I am. I don't know... fuck... I don't know who I am!”
His eyes found mine, and I could have sworn I saw something there, buried deep, deep inside his pupil.
He blinked, and it was gone.
“You need to tell me what she’s done to you.” I said stiffly. “Tell me what she’s done to your head.”
Casper was only growing progressively more frenzied. Animalistic. He came back to the window, slamming his fists into it. Then his head. Again and again. Like he was trying to knock himself out. "Help me. I can't remember... I can't remember who I am. I just know.. I know her.”
His lips suddenly twisted into a startling grin.
“Mom.” He whispered, his expression softening. “My mom.” His gaze flicked to the desk. “She won’t like that I’ve… I’ve made a mess.”
“Your mom did this.” I gritted out. “I’m calling the cops.”
His expression was scaring me. Whatever was in his eye was scaring me. But this boy needed help. He needed to be taken out of that house.
"No." Casper sobered up. "No, my mom... my mommy said... she said no police." His eyes widened suddenly, seemingly noticing the mess of the window for the first time. “Oh, no.” Casper stumbled back. “I should… I should clean this. Before my mom sees what a mess I made.”
His door opened, and another head poked through.
Another guy. I figured it was one of his brothers. Freddie, or Issac. He too had a bandage wrapped around his head.
His brother’s eyes found the blood spatters, and then me. Like his mother, he strode over to the window, shutting the curtains.
But I could still hear it.
A mechanical whirring noise, followed by Casper’s sharp breath and the sickly crunch of metal protruding through blood and bone.
That was it.
“Mom!” I yelled. I’d heard her come back earlier. She must have finished work early.
I stumbled downstairs to tell her to call the cops, but a shadow was already looming behind the corner. Before I knew what was happening, a wet rag stinking of pool cleaner was being pressed over my mouth and nose.
I don’t remember passing out. When I woke up, I was lying on my mom’s couch. It was dark outside, but the curtains were open. My foggy thoughts drunk in slithers of moon poking from between the clouds before registering I wasn’t alone. Sitting up, my stomach galloped. There was no sign of mom. But I recognised each of the faces surrounding me. Mrs Becker was sitting with her legs crossed, delicately sipping from a cup. And next to her, wearing a smug smile, was Mrs Wilder. She wasn’t looking at me. Instead, her eyes were lovingly glued to something which had been built over mom’s coffee table. It was made completely out of paper. The scraps of paper I had been using to talk to her son. Though there weren’t just my messages. I glimpsed Casper’s writing too. It was a house. I was staring at a perfect paper rendition of the Wilder house. And next to it stood four little paper dolls.
There were no faces. No expressions. Just four dolls. Two boys, and two girls.
Though in her lap were more. Mrs Wilder’s nimble fingers were working to make more of them. They filled her lap differing in sizes.
“Phoebe, is it?”
Her voice was smooth like chocolate. I could almost mistake it for kindness.
I nodded, my heart in my throat. I was watching her create another doll. She folded a piece of paper in half, cut it in two, and started to fold sections, bringing the doll-form to life. This one, unlike the other, did have attention put into it. She had even added the birth mark on my right temple, following that, colouring in my dark blonde hair, and finishing with my jean jacket. Mrs Wilder didn’t have to spell it out for me. When she got to the doll’s head, she shocked me, by tearing it off. Then she ripped off its arms and legs and tearing its torso in half.
Mrs Wilder straightened up. “Phoebe, are you aware of a mother’s instinct?”
I couldn’t reply. Instead, I was staring at the paper-doll she had set alight. I watched smouldering orange rip into it, before she put the fire out, dropping the blackened paper doll on the carpet. For just a brief second, I could have sworn the hem of my jacket had also caught alight. Just a single flash of orange. But maybe I was seeing things. “I was pregnant with four beautiful children,” she said softly. “As soon as I found out, I had already named them.” Her smile was dreamy. Melancholic. “Freddie. My little Freddie. He kicked quite a lot. Oh, and Matilda. She and her twin were quite the pair, I must say. Swiftly draining me of my energy so I had to take medication.” Mrs Wilder chuckled.
“And finally, Casper. Named after my favourite movie. I loved him with all of my heart. He was my little fighter.” She quickly lost her smile, her gaze flicking to me. “I hope you understand that if you talk to, or even the breathe the same air as my children again, I will rip you apart too.”
Mrs Wilder never raised her voice. She didn’t need to. I was terrified of her.
She held up my doll for emphasis, before throwing it in the paper dollhouse. “Or… perhaps you could become another daughter of mine, hmm?” I couldn’t move, my body paralysed when she leaned over me, cruel eyes drinking me in. “Maybe not.” She hummed. “I only take the dead or dying.” Straightening up, she sighed. “It’s not a hard task, Phoebe. Keep away from my children and I will keep away from you.”
The two of them left after that, leaving me unable to move. To breathe. They took the dollhouse. All of the paper. Even my own doll.
Casper has been unreachable since. Mom has hardly been at home—and I’m starting to lose my mind.
I don’t know what to do. I don’t know who or what Mrs Wilder is, but I’m afraid she’s going to keep adding to her collection.
Whoever those kids are, they’re not hers. I think she’s taken them. She’s using them as canvases. Dolls. For what she’s lost.
Am I next?
submitted by Trash_Tia to TheCrypticCompendium [link] [comments]

2023.03.27 01:43 Beginning_Fan_8888 Good hair day/bad hair day. Can you help me type my hair? Is it 2a or b? I’m a newbie and cannot figure out how to have consistent good wavy days.

Good hair day/bad hair day. Can you help me type my hair? Is it 2a or b? I’m a newbie and cannot figure out how to have consistent good wavy days. submitted by Beginning_Fan_8888 to Wavyhair [link] [comments]

2023.03.27 01:42 unreal_reality747 Mens hair stylist

Hey guys
Anyone know an experienced hair stylist that is good with shaping beards and cutting longer mens wavy/curly hair?? His last cut at Tommy Gun's was not the best. Any suggests would be awesome
submitted by unreal_reality747 to Edmonton [link] [comments]

2023.03.27 01:17 hobeymustard Can I get a good haircut here for under $80

Hi hi I have very long thick wavy/curly hair and am looking to get a trim + layers for under $80. Not a fancy haircut but would like someone who knows hair. Is this possible lol
submitted by hobeymustard to washingtondc [link] [comments]

2023.03.27 01:12 cgstories The Mother, the Son, and the Bride [Part 5-final]

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4
The Gray Rabbit knew how to get to the stairs that’d lead them back to the world above. All they had to do was follow the river to the Great Temple of Roh. They tread the grounds with great caution, stopping every now and then whenever they heard the faint sound of footsteps. The Spade guards roamed the forest. And when Hana spotted a pair of diamond-shaped red eyes peering from the darkness, she'd dart behind a tree and the Gray Rabbit in a bush, and there they’d wait, languishing in intense anxiety and holding their breaths until the red eyes retreated into the darkness and the metallic footsteps faded.
The closer they got to the temple, the narrower the river became. The river became a stream then the stream into a brook. The milk curds grew chunkier and more pungent. They were no longer treading on grass dirt. They were trudging through the milk chunks which squished between their toes and caked underneath their toenails.
The Great Temple of Roh wasn’t as lavish and great as the other parts of the estate Hana had imagined. It was a simple hanok with its curved tiled roof accentuated by the uplifted eaves. Upon closer look, however, the temple wasn’t made of wood. As she climbed on the stone steps and touched its walls, a sickening realization struck Hana.
Bones. Piles and piles of bones tightly compacted together, even the roof was made the shoulder blades and pelvic bones, the Gray Rabbit so kindly pointed out with awe and fear. The doors too were constructed of femurs and tibias, and they were stained and encrusted in dried blood.
“Whose bones are these?” asked Hana, recoiling.
“Peons like you and me.”
The temple’s red doors were slightly ajar, and a gnawing feeling told Hana to come closer. She must look inside. A sound inside lured her to the cracked door. She peeked. A few candles lit the room in a soft yellow glow. The room was mostly empty except for an altar; and a row of monstrous faces that lined the walls. Their big black eyes were fixed on the limped and naked figure lying in the center of the room.
When the shivering figure moaned and lifted its head, Hana gasped, realizing who it was and, without thinking, rushed inside.
“No! Don’t go in!” the Gray Rabbit half-whimpered and half-yelled, but Hana ignored him.
“Oh, Minji!” she cried, brushing the woman’s long dark hair aside.
Minji’s glazed eyes stared back at her, and she smiled. “Hana, I’ve been chosen. I’m the bride.”
Hana searched the room for any stitch of clothing. Frustrated, she went back to Minji, took hold of her arms and urged her to get up.
“We have to get out of here,” she said, desperately. “We’re in danger!”
“Us? In danger? No, no… I’m safe. We’re safe. I’m okay.”
“You’re going to die if you stay here! The Mother is going to kill you!”
“That’s a stupid thing to say! She’s not going to kill me. She said she’s going to bless me.”
“Please, Minji,” Hana’s voice cracked, and she started to cry. “We need to get out of here. I’m telling you that you’re going to die!”
Minji pulled away. “I can’t leave. I’m so happy, Hana!” she exclaimed, deliriously with eyes shut and shaking her head as if in a feverish dream.
“Please, come with me. Let’s go home.”
“I can’t do that. I’ve been chosen. Don’t you know? I’m the bride! I’m the bride!”
Heartbroken, Hana gawked in disbelief. “What did they do to you?”
Minji shoved Hana away and started to convulse. Her legs and arms began to twist. Jaws clenched. Eyes bugged out. She let out an agonizing scream.
At the sound of the red doors creaking open, Hana rushed into a dark corner and clasped a hand over her mouth, steadying her breathing.
Hyun-jeong, now having returned to human form, walked in with a golden seat cushion, and she ceremoniously placed it beside Minji, who had begun to convulse and groan and pant on the floor. Then, three more Court Ladies entered. One went to light more candles on the altar. Another stood by the altar with a white folded cloth in her hands. The third dragged something behind her. Long vines that grew out of her fingers were roped around the whimpering and trembling Gray Rabbit.
Clutching onto the arm of Jeong-wook, the Mother stepped into the temple. She was wrapped in bandages, and her face was obscured behind a veil. Fragile and easily tired, she was brought to the golden cushion, leaning on her son more for support.
“I’ve never thought I’d see this day,” she said, her voice quivering from joy. “I will shed this body and rise anew.” She reached out her gnarled hand and stroked Minji’s head.
Jeong-wook smiled. “And we’ve a body for you, Eomma.”
With a glance and a nod from him, the court ladies morphed into their monstrous form. Before a scream left Hana’s throat, a swift, wet breeze swept past her, spraying her cheek with mist. With a trembling hand, she wiped her cheek. Her heart resonated through her ears like a jackhammer as it pounded violently against her chest.
The smell of blood was heavy in the air. She did not need to look to know that the Gray Rabbit’s blood now coated her fingers. From the corner of her eye, she saw the beasts atop her companion in captivity, ripping him apart from limb to limb. His lifeless head rolled and stopped at her feet. A long fleshy vine snatched it up and cracked the cranium open. The court ladies fed the bloody bits and pieces of the Gray Rabbit to the demonic faces in the walls.
The faces’ lower jaws split open into thick, strong mandibles with jagged teeth. What came whipping out of the mouths were long, black forked tongues. Using their tongues, they feasted upon bits of brain and licked the bones clean. They let out a shrill whine as loud as a choir of hellish cicadas, further tearing apart the very fabric of Hana’s reality.
As she came to terms with the possibility, nay inevitability, that this could be her gruesome end, a small voice in her head urged her to press onward.
“Save yourself!” It screamed.
A surge of adrenaline coursed through her body. Her heart pounded relentlessly in her chest. She made a mad dash to the doors dodging the court ladies’ vines as they lashed at her. The threshold was within reach, but a great force violently pulled her back into the wall. The faces held her in place, digging their teeth into arms and calves.
“Wonderful!” Jeong-wook exclaimed with a mischievous grin. “We’ve another witness for the ritual.”
Love was all that Hana craved. She was loved by her family. She was respected and admired by her math students. Though this had warmly touched her heart, she had also longed to be loved in a much more intimate way. She had believed she had found this with Jeong-wook. He was her first. The one and only who had ever seen and touched her in the most intimate way. Never had she ever felt so exposed and vulnerable during their time together.
Now, those memories sickened her. Bile started to rise in her throat as she watched him undress the Mother. Underneath was skin thin as wet paper glistening from popped abscesses and peppered with pus-filled blisters. Her arms and legs were bent and warped like a featherless bird. Jeong-wook removed the bandages with extreme caution for the slightest misstep could rip a strip of skin and cause the Mother unimaginable agony.
The ritual began.
Jeong-wook kneeled beside the matriarch. He had a dagger in his hands. With one knowing look from the Mother, he struck her in the heart. Wailing, she slumped onto her side, life fading as blood pooled around her. From her wide opened mouth, out climbed an oily creature resembling a black-haired woman. Its face was long and gaunt, and its eyes were hollow. It moaned and writhed across the floor towards Minji. She lay in a deep trance, blissfully unaware of the creature clawing at her legs, pulling itself up to sit on her chest.
“Minji, wake up! Minji!” Hana screamed, though knowing the efforts to snap her friend awake were futile. She tried to wiggle out of the faces’ biting grip. But that only forced them to dig their teeth deeper. Tears flowed down her cheeks from the flashing pain.
Jeong-wook strode over to her and wiped them away with his fingers. Hana recoiled.
“There’s nothing to worry about, love,” he said, smirking. “My dear eomma is giving Minji the most wonderful gift of all: her essence. She will be my perfect bride.”
He grabbed her head and pried her eyes open. She watched in horror as the creature forced itself into Minji’s mouth. Convulsing, Minji started to rise into the air. She thrashed about so violently, her body contorted in odd angles to the point of snapping at the joints. Hand in hand, the court ladies circled her, humming in unison an eerie yet soothing tune which seemed to have a calming effect on Minji.
The fit stopped, and she dropped to the floor with a loud thud. Then, hushed silence.
“Jeong-wook…” a soft voice said, breathlessly.
Hearing his name, Jeong-wook rushed to Minji’s side and tenderly brushed aside the strands of hair from her sweaty face.
“Is it you?” he asked.
She straightened herself out on the golden cushion. Without saying anything, she caressed his face and guided his mouth to her breasts. Jeong-wook crawled into her lap, shrinking once again into an infant, and latched onto the nipple. The baby suckled and slurped. He gurgled and cried happily, milk spilling out of his pink lips. The Mother wiped the mess with her thumb.
Much to her surprise, the other breast, too, started to gush out the white creamy liquid, soaking the Mother and the Son. It flowed onto the floor, spreading throughout the room, and over the threshold, renewing the stagnant and spoiled river of milk in the forest. A honey aroma wafted in the air.
The court ladies wept in joy. It had been too long since they had such fresh milk. Their jaws split open like a blooming flower, whipping out their long tongues. They fell to their hands and knees and lapped up the overflowing cream.
The faces on the wall opened their mouths, and Hana collapsed. She didn’t move. Too weak. Too much pain. She lay there, half-drowning. She tasted the milk’s freshness slightly tainted with her blood.
The Gray Rabbit was right, she thought. It tasted like mad honey.
“Aich! I just don’t understand,” said Grandmother, slicing a roll of kimbap with frustrated haste. “Why did you break up with Jeong-wook? Now, I heard he’s engaged to someone else. That could’ve been you!”
Hana’s mother tutted at the older woman. “Oh, let her be!” But as she glanced curiously at her daughter, she said, “Though I’m curious as well.”
Failing to conceal their eavesdropping, the few customers at the restaurant shot curious glances at Hana. She paid them no mind; she was too busy helping her mother refill the small tubs of kimchi and yellow pickled radish at the self-serve table.
Hana shrugged. “It just didn’t work out, that’s all.”
Mom shook her head and sighed. “That’s too bad. He came from a good family.”
“Good stock! Oh, you’re going to regret it one day, Hana,” Grandmother added.
Fighting the urge to scream the truth, Hana bit her lip and said nothing. She was quite aware of all the pitiful and disbelieving looks she’d gotten after returning from the trip months ago. She knew what they thought of her: Oh, what a stupid girl! What was she thinking? Now she’s like old milk. Too spoiled for the marriage market.
Despite what those people thought, she was content with what she had. She was glad just to breathe. All that mattered now was living in the present. True love...that was a fairy tale she’d abandoned a while ago. She didn’t think much of it nowadays. And she couldn’t tell them the truth. Not that they would believe her anyway. The police certainly didn’t when she had run to them, barefoot and with clothes drenched in sweat and milk.
She had told them about how she’d been kidnapped; the lizard-like humanoid creatures that roamed the Roh estate; and the Mother and the underworld and the milk. After she had run out of breath, the officers gawked at her and then they laughed.
“You said that they hurt you? But you don’t look like you’re hurt,” one of them said.
Hana didn’t know what to say. The Mother’s milk had healed the deep bite marks on her arms and legs. She was allowed to leave the Roh estate. The spade guards had dragged her out of the underworld, and a different chauffeur drove her out of the estate and dumped her on the freeway. Though she didn’t leave the house without an unsettling warning from the Mother's favorite court lady.
Reverted to her human form, Hyun-jeong with her usual dead-eyed smile, said, “Be grateful the Mother spared your life. And remember, our eyes and ears are everywhere; always watching, always listening.”
Hana had to be careful. Her words must be carefully chosen. She knew that they were listening. And they could be anyone. Perhaps, they were already sitting at the restaurant. It was a daily reminder for her not to speak of what had happened. They had even sent her a newspaper clipping of Yoo-jin, who had gone missing several days ago. Then the following day, she received a polaroid photograph of herself taken from across the street while leaving her math academy.
“But tell me, really,” her mother pleaded, shaking Hana out of her thoughts. “You know you can tell me anything.”
“Tell you what?”
“Why did you end the relationship?”
“He wasn’t who I thought he was. He was simply not the one."
submitted by cgstories to libraryofshadows [link] [comments]

2023.03.27 01:06 4ShotBot My Roommate is Slenderman: Part 22 (Act 3)

Part 21: https://www.reddit.com/Viidith22/comments/11jmouq/my_roommate_is_slenderman_part_21_act_3/
I raised an unsteady hand, then put it down, “I’m sorry, I’m still not sure what it is I’d even be agreeing to. What’s going on in there?”
“About half of everyone who knows what’s going on in Tenyit Lane is in there.”
“So government conspiracy theories? I think I’d like to go home.”
“You have to know what’s going on, he kidnapped you too, you must’ve seen what I had on that computer.”
“No, I–” My mind flashed back to that morning, I’d woken up, seen the laptop open, no file transfer notification, “I mean, maybe, but I was too drunk to remember anything I read.”
“Darren wouldn’t have known that though. Just come in, we have evidence I’m not bullshitting. I mean, look at you, 30 minutes ago, you ate that asshole’s arm, you killed a man, and look at you. So just give it a chance, maybe I’m right, maybe shit around here is off, maybe, just maybe, the government is keeping a close eye on all of us for some crazy reason.” He pulled a necklace from under his shirt, “See how this crystal glows?”
“I’ll grant you your other points, but if you’re trying to tell me something that could have an LED in it is magic, buddy you are not preaching to the right choir.”
“Here,” He pulled it off his neck, unwrapped the twine, and handed me the bare crystal, “Look at it closely, as it’s sitting in your hand, just look at it.”
Rolling my eyes, I humored him. But, there was nothing there, looking into the glowing blue crystal was akin to looking at scuffed glass. I could see my hand straight through the entire gem, “Weir-”
“Now, close your eyes, and focus on your hand.”
I turned to face him, chin down, eyebrow raised, “You did not just ask me to do that.”
“No, seriously, just do it. If nothing happens, I’ll take you home. But, if you do feel it, you have to agree to join us.”
I gazed out in front of us, staring at the ten-foot concrete wall, “Okay.” I faced him, “If I feel anything, I’ll come in.”
He looked excited for a moment, before catching on, sighing, “Alright, that’ll have to do, but you have to stay and talk with a couple people at least.”
I took my turn to sigh, “Fine.” Closing my eyes, I focused on my hand, only a few seconds passed before I noticed it. It felt like something was taking up the empty space inside the atoms that made up who I was. Like the emptiness between the electrons and the nuclei was being filled. But as I focused more, a new sensation came through, like a magnet, the energy was being pushed away from something inside of me. Like an immune system fighting off a disease, the energy was halted, and whatever was inside me grew more aggressive.
I dropped it, my eyes sprung open, and I threw the door off its hinges, wanting, needing to get away from it. I shook my body, rubbed my face, and silently cursed to myself as I stamped in circles, trying as hard as I could to forget the maddening sensation.
I heard something from Scott’s direction, “WHAT!”
I finally stopped, staring at him as he spoke, “Just come inside with me, it’ll all make sense, it must’ve rejected you or something.”
“OR SOMETHING!? Oh that’s rich! You think I’m going to follow you in after!..” I took a breath, trying to think, “Whatever the FUCK that was!?”
His face lost all emotion, “YES GODDAMNIT! You said you would! Now you’re going to follow me inside, and we’re going to discuss everything! Do I make myself clear!?”
“The fuck we are!”
He made his way over to me, “Jesus Christ! Despite EVERYTHING, we couldn’t be more different!” He calmed, putting his hands on my shoulders, “Now, we’re gonna go in there, have a talk with the others, and you’ll understand everything. Do you hear me?” He stared uncomfortably into my eyes.
Despite his serious expression, his eyes were flat, like a dead fish. Yet, there was something relaxing in them, “Yeah, I uh… sure. Let’s have a talk, I agreed to it and all.” Following behind him, we made our way into a house, then down a set of stairs to the basement, which is where he pushed a tool cabinet aside, and we made our way down a set of stairs.
“How lo–”
“Let’s just make it down, then you can ask.”
About 10 steps down, I could hear the sound of laughter, before we eventually made it to an underground mancave. It had to be a good 20-30 feet below the road.
A couple of people went quiet as we reached the bottom, where ten or so people were gathered. An older woman made her way to us, the second person being a younger man, a mid-20s artistic type. He probably listened to The Beatles, and turned on Beethoven when his friends got in the car for the sake of it.
“Welcome Joseph, seems you’re new to town, and already sticking your nose in all sorts of government secrets. They sure have been slacking.”
“What the hell was on Scott’s laptop?”
A couple of seats scooted, and a few more voices went low, “Scott? You had unencrypted data on your computer?”
“He brought it to my, or Darren’s computer shop, when he was erm… still alive.”
The 20 something was about to say something when the woman’s tone quieted, approaching a whisper, “Allow me to get this straight Scott, you not only had freely accessible data on your computer, highly incriminating data that could rat all of us out, you also took it to a computer shop. It would be greatly appreciated if you could explain every little detail involving that.” She gripped one of his shoulders, and I could see the pain grow on his face. Then, she turned to me, smiling, “As for you, I need you to tell Brandon here everything that happened at, wherever you two came from. Don’t miss any details, we haven’t seen Scott in a couple of days, and everything around here goes by word of mouth.” She waved me off Scott following behind.
“Alright, let’s hit the bar, you can tell me everything there.” His voice sauntered as he pointed his thumb to an indent in the concrete wall to the right.
“God, that sounds amazing.”
“Really? That’s everything that brought you two here?”
“Yeah.” I said, finishing off my second pint of whiskey, “Guess it kind of explains why I can drink so much, but I’m still iffy. What do you think?” Without hesitation, he grabbed my arm and sliced a bit of skin off my forearm. I shot it back, “Hey! What the FUCK!”
“Pull your arm back out, let’s have a look.”
I eyed him, putting my arm out in front of me, “So wha-” as I stared at my arm, I hesitated. It was already clotted and scabbed over. Which reminded me of the hole that’d been stabbed into me. I pulled my shirt up, seeing there was only a tiny scab left, and there was already extensive scarring around it. “I-I need to sit down.”
“You uh, you already are.”
“Then I need to lay down.” I stood, hyperventilating.
He slowly helped me to a couch, asking a little too politely for everyone to get out of the way, then leaning me down.
As my head hit the arm-rest, my brain pounded like I stood up too fast with a caffeine headache after a bender. My vision blurred and the room was too bright. All of the days events played on a loop, running through my mind at the speed of sound, only stopping momentarily to focus on the most traumatic events.
Eventually, my breathing slowed, my vision cleared, and my mind became more tolerable. “I-I need to l-leave. I don’t belong here. I need to go back to my life. I have to–”
“Didn’t you just ea– or ki… Isn’t your boss dead now?”
“I… need to get back home. This isn’t where I should be. I need to get back to Te…” My mind was struggling to latch onto something. Something familiar, yet completely foreign, like a language you’ve heard of but never learned. “I need to leave this place.”
“Hey, is he alright?” I heard Scott ask.
I rolled to my left side as much as I could to look at him, “What do you think?” Right as he went to open his mouth, “I want you to take me home, right now. I came in like I said I would, but this place, I just… I can’t. I’m sure I might help at some capacity, but honestly, I don’t want any part in what you guys are doing. There’s nothing for me here.”
He glanced at Brandon, who took him aside. A couple minutes later, he came back, “Look, we can’t have you leave just yet. There’s too much we’d be risking. So we need to ensure you won’t tell anyone.”
“So what, you’re gonna bug my phone and shit?”
“Actually, we’re going to rewrite your memories of getting here. As well as my name. Everyone else here uses an alias, but, well, you’re gonna forget my real name so it doesn’t matter too much.”
“Is it safe?”
“Well, you’ve already been through a similar process a few times, you should be fine.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
His eyelids flattened, “Just follow me.”
My memories around that point in time get distorted. I remember someone sitting me in a chair, then them holding my head between their hands, and in the moment I forgot Scott’s name as well as a few other details. Then I was blindfolded, and ended up at my house. At the time it felt like I’d just been on a long drive after the whole Darren situation.
I wanted to drink, I wanted to simply stop existing, I wanted everything to end. The next couple hours are still a haze, though I presume it was mainly due to the alcohol consumption as opposed to anything else. However, one aspect of that day/night has stuck with me, parts of it haunt my dreams, other parts relieve me to this day, and I honestly can’t say whether or not I’m glad I made the decision. But no matter how much I think on it, I can’t take it back. It was something about sitting on the couch, then I set the bottles on the coffee table. Then I was in the kitchen holding the business card with a D on it. I think it was shortly after that when I grabbed the bag from my junk drawer and downed the whole bag of mushrooms.
I remember after 20 minutes or so a strange sense of anxiety washed over me, and my stomach twisted. I stumbled my way to the bathroom, convinced the shitty whiskey was finally getting to me. I laid in front of the toilet for a good while, waiting for something to come up, when my vision grew wavy, then a crash of euphoria hit me and I started giggling. Feeling better, I headed to the couch to throw something on.
A short while later, a new wave slammed into me and I couldn’t see anything I was looking at anymore. Tears streamed down my face as kaleidoscopes twisted in my eyes. The swirling color took on a life of its own as it no longer had regard for spacetime. I could suddenly feel each eternity between the seconds of reality. My brain was working at the pace of a supercomputer, causing me to age a millenia a minute. My mind was malleable, reforming lost neural connections, and I could feel each fiber reconnect, causing lost memories to surge their way through my mindseye. My body was fused with the couch, all I could do was sit and experience. My mind was suddenly just that, floating consciousness in a vibrant void, and even my brain was simply along for the ride, running calculation after calculation with no regard for my conscious self. I was no longer crying, but the universe was, even the universe was simply another piece of a much grander design, simply an electron in the atom that was our multiverse.
For a few minutes, my eyes were able to focus again, I could process my surroundings with minimal distortion. Patting my face, I felt water still pouring from my eyes. I wiped it away with my shirt, then grabbed a blanket and pillow from my room, laid on the couch, and went back to the show. But before I could focus on the screen, my brain leapt forward, crashing hard into a tidal wave of emotion and colors.
Once again, I was no longer me, but simply a bundle of chemistry and experiences. While no definitive memories resurface, I recalled clumps, as if I’d dropped too much flour into my soup at once. Terry, Jane, a murder, Maerod, 7/11, seemingly random details broke surface tension, revealing a broad variety of emotions, agony, hope, loss, rage. I could only feel my vocal chords giving way, but no sounds made it to my ears, because they no longer existed in that moment. I had no control over it, and in that moment the truth dropped out of the sky, splattering my sense of self. “I” was simply a construct that no longer held weight to my brain. It was going to do its thing, the mind has already made its decision before the conscious self has allowed it to surface. The subconscious influences the conscious, while the conscious can choose to focus on something, the subconscious is what’s really pulling the strings, which–
Before I could finish the thought, the water gave out from under me, and I was suddenly drowning. All coherent thought had left me, nothing but pure emotions left, I think I screamed as I cried, but I still couldn’t hear anything. Despite that, an added shakiness came to my twisting vision periodically.
I’m not sure when I resurfaced, the coming hangover coupled with how mentally checked out I was by the end of the trip made it hard to tell. But I did eventually wake up, suffice it to say, my pillow was drenched, and I had to get a new couch.
I threw my pillow, blanket, and clothes in the wash after coming to. I felt hollow, not quite empty as emptiness implies a feeling of something that’s supposed to be there being gone. But that wasn’t it, hollow as if that’s how it was supposed to be.
I sat in the shower as it rained over me. I scrubbed slowly, trying to get the smell of piss out of my skin. I couldn’t believe myself.
After my shower of shame, I got dressed. As I left the bathroom, I did it again, “Hey Terry–” Which jogged loose a compilation of memories. My mindseye was flooded with experiences in a shabby apartment. Watching anime with a distorted fragment of a person. Cooking as two familiar voices discussed something. Then the big one came, the first time he revealed himself to me. The memory was blurred, like a moving analog camera, but the emotions were strong.
I stumbled my way to the living room, sitting on the floor beside the coffee table. As the memories faded back into being just that, I glanced to my left, noticing that strange card with the D on it. I grabbed it, flipping the card in my hand several times, then bit my lip, glancing to my right at the office door. I wanted to gain access to whatever private data the town had on me. But I knew they wouldn’t keep it online, too easy for the wrong person to snag it.
They might keep it on paper, but I can’t just ask for something like that. Clearly I’m not supposed to have any memories. So where can I go that’ll have the data I need? I dwelled on the thought for a moment, then, It might be a long shot, but if Darren… I shivered. If Darren left the laptop at the shop, I might have a chance. Whatever was on there was bad enough he was willing to kill me. Which means… I sighed in disdain, I have to see ‘him’ after I’m done.
I didn’t know where ‘he’ lived, but if I was lucky, there was a chance I could find some residual gps data when I got a hold of one of the laptops.
Grabbing a hoodie, I made my way out the door, heading out on foot due to the snow that had accumulated.
When I got there a few minutes later, the door was locked. Then I remembered how I’d gotten in just a couple days prior. Grabbing the bottom of the single window sill, I yanked up as hard as I could, hoping to break it free of the ice. Something definitely broke, but it was a more metallic sound than I’d expected. Quickly climbing through, I saw the lock had bent and tore the screws out of the window. The clanging had come from the lock piece dropping to the ground.
Shaking my head, I made my way to the desk the laptops had been. But unfortunately, they were already gone. I kicked a chair, wanting to get more pissed at the situation, but the emotional impact from the night before wouldn’t allow it. I searched each cabinet, hoping to come across anything that could point me in the right direction. Unfortunately, he hadn’t left a trace, so I hopped back out the window to try and think something else up.
If the drive from his house to one of the walls was about 15 minutes or so, and the drive from there to my house was about 10… My thoughts trailed off, Weren’t they supposed to warp my memory? Could it be the same thing as earlier? I shook it off, trying to focus, So, about 10 minutes from my house to a wall, which means... I glanced back at the shop, taking in the large concrete construct behind it for seemingly the first time. Then, I glanced down my right side at the “entrance” to town only a few blocks away, right past the bar. Trying to focus my mind, I pieced together a mental list of houses that could fit the parameters I had. In doing so, I came up with a list of four different streets, then I headed back home, threw some chains on my car, and left for the first street.
By the third street, I started to get nervous. I thought my short look at it while leaving wasn’t enough to go off of, or that they might’ve warped my memories of the place. Or even if I found the place, the murders had already been reported. But by the time I got to the end of that street, I found the house I was looking for. It looked untouched, so I parked and went up to the door. Opening the door caused a memory to overtake me. I saw Jane, her body just laying there, head missing, cold blood pooled into a murky puddle of depression. As it passed, despite the nausea that followed the memory, everything in the house was clean. The house smelled like pine and gingerbread. Whoever had cleaned the place didn’t matter, I ran through the house searching for one of the laptops.
It took some time, but I eventually found it in his locked dresser. Running downstairs, I bolted out the door just for the ground to disappear, and suddenly, the gray sky was in front of me. The laptop slid from my fingers just before my head made contact with the doorframe, nearly knocking me out. I staggered to my feet, being cautious to not slip on the ice under the snow. Looking around, there was a small indent in the field of white. Walking over to it, I picked it back up, flipping the computer open, thankful to see it was still alive.
Sliding it under the cushion of my back seat, I got in my car, and was just about to turn the key when a sudden knocking at a window nearly gave me a heart attack. I turned the ignition, rolling the window down. Looking over at the man at the passenger side window, I couldn’t help but feel my heart drop. He looked serious, like a business man out on duty… in the snow.
“Can I help you? Erm…”
“The name’s Donavan, and I believe that depends entirely on whether or not you could answer a few of my questions.”
I blew out my nose, “I uh, no, not particularly, I’ve–”
“Got somewhere to be? I’m sure you do, and so do I. May I?” He gestured to the door handle.
“I’m sure I don’t want anything you’re selling, so may I go.”
He pulled out his phone, scrolling while he talked, “Unless you’d like me showing this to the police, I think it’d be mutually beneficial if you allowed me into your vehicle while we had our discussion. Wouldn’t you agree?” He flipped the phone, showing me a short video compilation of me eating Darren, as well as killing one of the other guys.
Despite my desire to get as far away from the man as possible, I unlocked the door, “Sure, get in, dickswab.”
“Now then, might you be able to explain something that’s been itching at the back of my mind?”
“Please my good sir, there is no such need to display your extended understanding of the English lexicon in such a manner.”
“The least you could do is take me the slightest bit seriously.”
“Look man, you blackmailed me into letting you into my car, I’m sorry if I’m not ‘like, so totally stoked’ to talk right now.” I turned right, he’d instructed me to just go around the same few blocks until we were done.
“Alright then, who gave you this?”
I glanced over, seeing the card with the italicized D on it, “Ah, I see, you broke into my house. Pretty sure that’s a crime.”
He looked down his nose at me, I could almost see his imaginary glasses slide down a bit, “Just answer the question.”
“It came with a small package. I wasn’t even home when it was dropped off.”
“Is this the one to which you’re referring?” He held the small brown package with no label, along with the small bag that I’d so recently… emptied the contents of,
“I think what’s going on here is pretty obvious.”
“Do you?”
“I’m really not part of any one of the “third parties,” this town seems to love hosting. I’m just trying to figure out why everyone seems to have it out for me.” Remembering Scott, I glanced in the rearview mirror, wanting to get to whatever secrets that laptop held.
He also glanced in the rearview mirror, but I got the sense it was for another reason, “You know, it’s difficult to add something to a machine that’s already running. You can’t just cut a live wire when you need to add a new resistor. You can’t throw a turbo in a car while it’s on. You can’t swap a normal trigger for a hair trigger while shooting the gun. You gotta set it down, make sure everything’s stopped and cool, then you can go in and meticulously add or replace a part to whatever needs it. But the thing about new parts is, you can’t immediately leave them be, you gotta keep an eye on them, make sure they aren’t faulty. Even if you have a manufacturer’s guarantee, sometimes you get a bad part.”
“Well, as it turns out, that’s exactly what we have. But when a replaced part is internal, and you don’t have a check engine light, well you have to rely on the effects of the engine as a whole. See, if anything has gone wrong since you added the new part. Well, you know what happens when it’s discovered a part is faulty I’m sure.”
“So, that car you noticed a little while back, that’s why it’s following us. The effects are starting to show.” I checked the rearview mirror again, sure enough, there was a car following us, a black two door with tinted windows and a glossy finish, “Which brings me back to this card, I’m a reasonable man, if you tell me who gave you this card, I’m willing to help push this ahem side effect, under the rug.”
“Listen, I really don’t know. I was telling you the truth.” I hesitated, thinking it over, “But, if you, ‘push it under the rug,’ as you so delicately put it, I can help you find whoever sent me the package. Deal?”
“And what cards are you willing to show me to nudge me along?”
“He sent me a package once, clearly he has contacts here given the lack of any shipping details. Which says he must also know the me from yestermonth. If he has personal ties to me, there must be a way for me to lure him out.”
He smirked, “You’d really screw over the person that resurfaced your memories?”
“Anyone who has people here but refuses to save me isn’t really worth getting killed over.”
He stared at me for the rest of the block, then glanced the rearview mirror, “Well damn, I suppose I can’t argue that logic.” He pulled out a pen and small piece of paper, scribbled something down, then, “You can pull over here.” We’d reached the front of the house we started our ride in front of, “Here, call me if you get any leads, we’ll do our part to keep things under wraps.” He stopped halfway out the door, “And hey, if you do your part well enough, you might even be allowed deeper in the engine.” Then he was off, calling someone as he walked down the street.
“Yeah, whatever metaphor-man.” I crumbled up the paper and tossed it in the back, driving home in silence to finally get into what the hell was going on.
Part 23: Coming (relatively) soon.
submitted by 4ShotBot to Viidith22 [link] [comments]

2023.03.27 00:59 Pink_polka Androgenic Alopecia Friendly Birth Control

I am looking for any advice or experience that anyone has had with birth control that is safe with AGA and telogen effluvium. I was on the mirena IUD for about 6 months when I started noticing an increase in hair loss. I was diagnosed with AGA and it stressed me out, causing even more hair loss. I have been on minoxidil and spironolactone since August 2022 and changed from the mirena IUD to the copper IUD in October 2022.
The copper IUD has caused two periods in a month. They are not super heavy but it is still annoying and thinking long term, I don't know how long I can go with having two periods in a month! Since changing my IUD, I have had less hair loss and regrowth but my hair is still at the thinnest its ever been. I recently switched from 100mg to 150mg spironolactone everyday. I have wavy/curly hair and I am looking to keep as much as I can!
Any advice or birth control that you have tried that hasn't affected your hair? At the end of the day, I would rather have two periods a month than lose my hair, but just looking at other options. I appreciate the help!
submitted by Pink_polka to birthcontrol [link] [comments]

2023.03.27 00:55 Pink_polka Hair Friendly Birth Control

I am looking for any advice or experience that anyone has had with birth control that is safe with AGA and telogen effluvium. I was on the mirena IUD for about 6 months when I started noticing an increase in hair loss. I was diagnosed with AGA and it stressed me out, causing even more hair loss. I have been on minoxidil and spironolactone since August 2022 and changed from the mirena IUD to the copper IUD in October 2022.
The copper IUD has caused two periods in a month. They are not super heavy but it is still annoying and thinking long term, I don't know how long I can go with having two periods in a month! Since changing my IUD, I have had less hair loss and regrowth but my hair is still at the thinnest its ever been. I recently switched from 100mg to 150mg spironolactone everyday. I have wavy/curly hair and I am looking to keep as much as I can!
Any advice or birth control that you have tried that hasn't affected your hair? At the end of the day, I would rather have two periods a month than lose my hair, but just looking at other options. I appreciate the help!
submitted by Pink_polka to FemaleHairLoss [link] [comments]

2023.03.27 00:54 Latetothisshindig Tip for wind making hair fluffy

When I get to work, my hair is usually wet, and there’s a walk of about three or four blocks from my car to the building. I also live in the frozen tundra of the Midwest, so the wind here is bad and always seems to mess up any cast I may have had going on when I left the house. It’ll mess up my dry hair too, but much worse when it hasn’t dried yet. I discovered recently that silk scrunchies work great for preventing this! I gently pull my hair into a low bun, secure it with a silk scrunchie, make my walk over, then let it back down. It’s been helping a ton! Thought I could post this here for others who have the same issue.
submitted by Latetothisshindig to Wavyhair [link] [comments]

2023.03.27 00:52 Kratangg 「Dear Fellow Traveller」

Namesake: Dear Fellow Traveller by Sea Wolf
User: Kinsly
Tool/Phenomenon stand
Power: B (Currents can flow at a maximum of B power, but less intense forces are possible when setting up)
Speed: B (Currents flow at a maximum of B speed)
Range: C (Handprints can be applied by touch or anywhere within 15 meters. Once placed, handprints will remain fully functional until destroyed or deactivated, no matter how far away the user may be. Handprints can be dispelled at any distance)
Durability: E (Handprints can be easily dusted away as if they were chalk, but are unaffected by the stand’s own currents)
Precision: C (The user has rough control over the speed and power of the flows they summon, and can fairly precisely apply handprints where they desire)
Potential: C
Glowing white/tealish handprints, similar in hue to a bio-bay. The user’s silhouette can be seen within the fingerprints, and change to match their appearance in real time.
The user himself is exactly 5’0, with a large, wide brimmed hat that brings him to 5’5. Entire body above shin-high hiking boots is obscured by a 360 degree cloak seemingly made of stitching and zippers. He can extend a hand out of any opening with ease, un and rezipping as he goes in a single fluid motion. Dark blonde hair with braids framing his face, and an even stubble. Long hooked nose and a smile that literally shines, with almost every other tooth silvered.
「Dear Fellow Traveler」 places glowing handprints on or inside of objects and surfaces, which create forceful, self contained currents that pull anything coming into contact with them ‘downstream’ at a maximum of B power between the handprints. The currents sharply begin at the first handprint, but naturally disperse at the endpoint, spreading like an estuary of wind. Prints can be applied midair or om fluids, but degrade quickly and require a consistent flow of new connections to retain the flow.
Currents function with a cylindrical laminar flow, forming a cylinder of force vectors inherent to the path that primarily intakes air at the origin point, but does not significantly interfere with the atmosphere along its length; air particles in direct contact with the current are taken in equally along the total surface area, minimizing the impact. A solid touching or intersecting with the pathing at any point will bypass this, immediately dragging it downstream.
A new handprint can be placed and ‘linked’ to an existing current, extending its path while removing the print that previously served as its endpoint. The user can determine the arc the current takes between these points, or designate it as a straight line. Thirty handprints can exist at a time, with the oldest instances vanishing as new ones are created beyond the cap.
Perhaps because of this ability, the user is acutely aware of the motion within fluids around him, and more than capable of utilizing their currents. Whether it be constructing a hobble to split the wind of a storm, properly setting a fire safe from premature extinguishing, sailing or swimming in such a way to take advantage of the winds and currents, or even following airflow to the opening of a cave.
This applies to his own stand as well, allowing him to efficiently ride his own waves, and he’s one hell of a kite-flier.
User information/backstory:
Everywhere, there are wanderers. Transient folk who move from place to place, never lingering for long. One such soul is the fleeting presence of Kinsly. Nothing brings Kinsly greater joy than the aforementioned journey, migrating from place to place to soak in the beauty of his current resting spot. Experiencing new locations and meeting new people, even for a short time, is wonderful, and Kinsly will experience such elation many times, without being tethered to any one area.
Nimble with the endurance for long days of travel, Kinsly understands there are many precautions that must be taken with such a lifestyle. Of course, one necessarily develops a set of crucial set of skills after having spent decades of exploration drifting about every environment imaginable. He has weathered woodlands, plains, desert, cityscapes, lakes, oceans, tundras, what have you, and is more than capable of self-sustainably providing for himself in all situations. Makeshift lodging, procuring and preparing food from what can be gathered, traversing all manner of terrain, avoiding credible threats, doing so without a trace of his presence once gone are all within his arsenal. This includes hunting, rudimentary trapmaking, and basic self defense and medical care.
Throughout it all Kinsly is a friendly, calming presence, speaking in a tone as swift and soft as the wind. He travels the world, enjoying the presence of others and solitude alike (Even if the latter is preferable), while contemplating what at least he considers to be wisdom and interesting concepts. He is more than willing to listen to others’ interests, opinions, or problems, while providing his own insights. While generally open, Kinsly never speaks of his early years, and will simply decline to answer or guide the conversation elsewhere. Whether he remembers his childhood at all is unclear, and he acts as if he has had his stand since the dawn of time: simply an extension of his own being, his own hands. He admires his surroundings, whether they be nature, architecture, or simply a culture he is yet to experience.
Kinsly rarely stays in one place for very long, lest he or it overstay their welcome to each other. He wanders alone, with attachment or long term connection to anything not necessary in his mind. This extends to extensive material possessions that would prevent traveling light, as well. He does not desire nor relate to gathering objects, and would prefer to remember something rather than own it. This especially applies to himself. Do not miss Kinsly; remember him.
Despite his demeanor, he can swiftly become anxious or insecure, and spends much time contemplating these issues (His anxiety, as well as the bitterness towards it he is self-aware of) he sees within himself. Whether the motivation for it, or a byproduct, this trait is deeply intertwined with his lifestyle. Extended contact with others, or large enough groups make him uncomfortable. Thus, Kinsly spends much of his time alone-once again, whether this has induced anxiety around others or is the natural consequence of introversion is irrelevant. Kinsly resents this anxiety itself, seeing it as an insecure weakness despite his preference to be alone. This anxiety additionally seems to reveal itself in other cases of personal failure. Lots of time alone gives ample time to think, which consequently leads back to such thoughts in an unfortunate cycle.
No matter, there is plenty of time to contemplate and many new experiences to be had in the meantime. To that end, remember-a series of odd chalkprints or aberrant winds may be the sign of a possible new friend in town, however fleeting the encounter may be.
submitted by Kratangg to fanStands [link] [comments]

2023.03.27 00:42 Wavyhaircare Deva cut for wavy hair? Wet hair cuts vs dry hair cuts for naturally wavy hair (YouTube Video)

Deva cut for wavy hair? Wet hair cuts vs dry hair cuts for naturally wavy hair (YouTube Video) submitted by Wavyhaircare to u/Wavyhaircare [link] [comments]

2023.03.27 00:32 Kliktichik Regional Hatterene Line

Regional Hatterene Line

Koradian Hattena Line
Koradian Hattena (Dark/Normal): Koradian Hattena, unlike their Galarian counterparts, love sound, and will shape their hair into giant ears and a receiver dish atop their hat to boost their hearing range when not using them for attack. Their black hair absorbs light, and indicates their more guile nature. Abilities: Soundproof, Punk Rock, Receiver (Hidden)
Haddio (Dark/Normal): The receiver-shaped hat of hair connects to the headphone-like braid around their forehead and ears, letting Haddio hear even a Cutiefly's breath from kilometers away. Its large braids can act as claws or connect to another Haddio to boost both Haddio's range exponentially. Abilities: Soundproof, Punk Rock, Receiver (Hidden)
(Level up in a Special Magnetic Field) Hatellite (Dark/Electric): With it's satellite dish-shaped sombrero made of hair, Hatellite broadcasts any sounds it likes either as sound or radio waves. A fan of loud parties, it's large hair-claw can fold into a microphone, and sounds near the microphone will be broadcast to Hatellite across the world, so Hatellite were used for communication across huge distances before phones were invented. Abilities: Soundproof, Punk Rock, Receiver (Hidden)
(Use a Dusk Stone) Serenobi (Dark/Ghost): Shifting it's focus from hearing to not being heard, Serenobi's hair weaves across it's body into a Ninja suit that stealthily absorbs light and sound, as well as boosting Serenobi's speed and agility, making it a favorite of assassins and spies. In a pinch, Serenobi will snap one of its hairs, releasing all the light and sound it has absorbed to blind and deafen everyone around. Abilities: Soundproof, Filter, Ninja Instinct (Hidden) Ninja Instinct: When the Pokémon enters battle, it's evasiveness rises by one stage.
submitted by Kliktichik to fakemon [link] [comments]

2023.03.27 00:28 SoltheWise Fantas (Open)

Banks of the Blackwater Rush, Outside Kingslanding, The Crownlands, Westeros
Edyth the woodswytch stood knee-deep in the cool, clear waters of the Blackwater Rush, her eyes closed in silent communion with the river spirits. The sun beat down on her skin, but she paid it no heed, lost in the gentle sway of the water and the rustle of the leaves overhead. She had come to the river seeking the perfect stones to craft a new set of knives for her work in the forest. The stones had to be smooth and preferably sharp, with a weight that felt just right in her hand. And so she searched, her fingers running over each rock in turn, feeling for the one that called to her.
As she waded deeper into the river, the water grew colder, the current stronger. But still, she pressed on, her breaths slow and steady as she scanned the riverbed for the perfect stones. And then, as she reached the deepest part of the river, she felt a shift in the water, a sudden, violent surge that knocked her off her feet and sent her tumbling downstream!
She gasped for air, her arms flailing as she fought to keep her head above water. But the river was too strong, too powerful, and it dragged her under, the rushing water pounding against her body like a thousand fists. For a moment, she thought she was going to die, her lungs burning for air as the water tumbled her this way and that. But then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the river released her, spitting her out onto the muddy banks with a force that left her dazed and gasping for breath.
Slowly, she rose to her feet, her clothes and hair dripping wet, her body bruised and battered. But despite the pain, despite the shock of the experience, she knew that she had been changed by the river, that the spirits of the water had granted her a new understanding, a deeper connection to the world around her. Or at least a newfound feeling of immense gratitude.
And so she stood there, a little shaken, a little wiser, but filled with a sense of purpose that burned within her like a flame. She navigated the muddy, stone tossed banks back towards her baskets of collected stones already. She had a kiln project she wanted to complete and the basket had the flattest, puzzle piece-like stones she could find.
submitted by SoltheWise to IronThroneRP [link] [comments]

2023.03.27 00:27 AnomalousVoices Is there anyone in the Denver metro area that is willing to teach me how to do hair, specifically braids and twists?

Hi, I’ve posted here before about this similar subject and I’m throwing in the towel with videos and online tutorials. My previous attempts don’t stay and don’t look good whatsoever, and I feel I would improve more having someone guide me. Thank you in advance.
submitted by AnomalousVoices to BlackHair [link] [comments]

2023.03.27 00:23 Realistic-Whereas826 TIFU by assuming that I could romance the girl I was interested in through DND.

I'll try to keep it short.
Basically I(20M) am a big fan of DND and recently started talking to this girl (let's call her Millie, 20F). She is super smart, super pretty, and has a really great sense of style, and always makes me laugh. I think I'm pretty much head over heels for her. Anyways, she recently learned that I like playing DND, and expressed her interest in playing with me - apparently she's always wanted to play, as a fan of fantasy. This just made her more attractive to me, and I pulled some strings to find a new game for us, as I didn't think she would enjoy joining halfway through my current game.
Anyways, Millie was overjoyed when I told her about the game, and said she was super excited to play and that she was already going to get started to create her character. I hooked her up with the DM and told her that she should coordinate with him. This was about a week and a half before we were first set to play. A few days later, about a week before we were going to play, I asked her what her character was, but she just laughed and said that I'd find out during the first session.
Now, Millie is a very feminine person. She's short, likes keeping her hair long and wavy, likes makeup, and likes wearing lots of pink and dresses and accessories. So I obviously assumed that her character would be similar. My own character was a pretty standard human fighter, so I kept daydreaming about flirting with her through the game - in my mind she played a gorgeous, lithe elven princess or a petite, cute little archer with long blond hair and tight clothes. Maybe the beautiful daughter of a nobleman or gorgeous servant girl destined for something greater or a priestess of some benevolent goddess.
I imagined our characters kissing after a long battle, or my character saving Millie's from a dragon (and then kissing). Every situation I could put them in, I did. And I also dreamed about a real kiss at some point, me and Millie. As the days ticked down, I grew more and more impatient and excited to see, to share my favorite hobby with Millie.
Finally, the day came. I brought all my character sheets, snacks, everything I was supposed to bring. And then the character introductions started. First went someone else in the group. Then I went, with some name, pronouns, backstory, etc etc. And then, finally Millie went.
And I was absolutely stunned. She didn't have a princess, or a servant girl, or a cute little archer. Not even a sexy priestess.
No, Millie excitedly introduced Grognar the Half-Orc, 6'9 and musclebound. She was an artist and had even drawn up several little character concepts of this guy, showing him wielding his ax (which was about the size of my character), snarling with his pointed canines, and with blood smeared all over him and his bare hands. Apparently he was a follower of the Grey Shades, essentially a violent cult, and was out to spread their cultish gospel. She continued speaking about him but I don't remember what she said, I was just too shocked. Needless to say, I did not try to romance Grognar the Half-Orc, follower of the Grey Shades.
TLDR: Assumed a girl I was into would have a feminine, pretty character for DND that I could romance. She created a musclebound, violent monster who could have crushed my skull with his bare hands.
submitted by Realistic-Whereas826 to tifu [link] [comments]

2023.03.27 00:11 hypallage_signal 28 [M4F] Southwest U.S. - Looking for someone to enjoy my life with and forge a new one with

Heyo! Specs first before I give a little about me: I'm white, 5'10", about 165-170, fit but not muscly, wavy brown hair and blue eyes that get me a few rare compliments, I have a master's degree, and a job that you will be able to brag to others about.
Five things about me that you might find interesting: I have been professionally published 4 times, I have a webcomic that I draw and write in my spare time, I have been across both the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans, I am in the top 150 of a world leaderboard for one Pokemon metagame, and I love the outdoors.
Physical connection is important to me, but we can discuss all that stuff down the line.
If something about all I said appeals to you, then I'd love to hear from you. I think too often these types of posts put up too many restrictions on who they're looking for. If you feel there can be a connection, I want to give that potential connection a chance.
Make my day! :)
submitted by hypallage_signal to r4r [link] [comments]

2023.03.27 00:09 QueenOfTheRemote40 I just hit a 1 1/2 years on hrt today!!!! It’s been an amazing journey and i never would have gotten this far with out the community on here. Love you all! ❤️ car selfie no makeup wet hair. 41, 18 months hrt

submitted by QueenOfTheRemote40 to TransLater [link] [comments]

2023.03.27 00:03 TarondorIX [USA-TX] [H] Apple iPad Air, Amazon Kindle, LG 27UD68-W, Atdec Quad Monitor Stand, Liquid Cooling Components (XSPC / Koolance), Tech Pouch, PC Parts (Canary, EVGA, Venta), Car Audio / Sound Components (Kicker / Rockford Fosgate), Free Stuff [W] PayPal, Acer Predator XB273K Packaging

All prices include shipping. Can add free stuff to purchases but if the free item is larger than the item, you're purchasing then the difference in shipping will be added. If you are looking for just free items you need to pay for the shipping listed, obviously bundling a bunch of items into a single box would also decrease the cost of shipping.

Tablets (Timestamps) Price (includes shipping)
Apple iPad Air Wifi + Cellular 32GB screen has protector, no other accessories $40 or best offer (for parts, belonged to parents who dropped it, cannot complete restore anymore, screen partially detects input)
White Amazon Kindle Paperwhite 7th Gen 4GB includes MicroUSB Cable, Charging Block $40 or best offer
LG 27UD68-W includes OEM Packaging, OEM (DisplayPort & HDMI) Cables, OEM Power Supply $200 or best offer
Atdec VFS-Q Visidec Quad Freestanding Monitor Stand w/ OEM Components (link) $200 or best offer

All liquid / water cooling components has been flushed and cleaned as thoroughly as possible!
Components (Timestamps) Price (includes shipping)
XSPC AX360 Radiator White includes 2 fittings (link) $70 or best offer
XSPC EX360 Radiator Black (link) $50 or best offer
Koolance SPL-XUFY5B 5-way Fitting Body (link) $10 or best offer (like new, used once for testing)
Koolance ADT-DXG90 Fitting Single, Swiveling 90-Degree (link) $15 or best offer (like new, used once for testing)

All components and electronics have been confirmed to be functioning unless otherwise stated.
Computer Parts & Electronics (Timestamps) Price (includes shipping)
Apple 60W MagSafe 1 Power Adapter (Model: A1344) $40 or best offer
Canary Security Camera with Data Cable, Power Cable, Ethernet Cable $30 or best offer
Synology D3NS1866L-4G 4GB DDR3L 1600MHz SODIMM RAM $20 or best offer
ASUS ROG Strix Z370-I Motherboard includes 4 SATA Cables, WiFi Antenna, Rear Panel Plate, 4-pin Speaker, Header Extension Cable $100 or best offer (for parts, during system disassembly, bent one pin circled in red, POST says RAM issue)
HP 784468-601 Motherboard for a HP zBook 15 G2 includes Intel i7-4700MQ $100 or best offer
Amazon Fire Stick 4k $40 or best offer

Computer Parts & Electronics (Timestamps) Price (includes shipping)
EVGA Supernova 1000 P2 Platinum Power Supply with all OEM cables and bag $125 or best offer (warranty ends December 2023)
Venta LW25 Humidifier / Air Washer $150 or best offer

Computer Parts & Electronics (Timestamps) Price (includes shipping)
Silicone Bicycle Phone Mount $10 or best offer
Anker Car Charger $15 or best offer
6-pack of 3M Professional Grade Rubberized Undercoating $50 or best offer
Risk Board Game $30 or best offer (comes with two versions of the game)

Tech Pouches (Timestamps) Price (includes shipping)
Rawrow Tech Pouch $20 or best offer

All these components were removed from a full functioning car stereo system that was upgraded.
Automotive / Car Audio / Sound Components (Timestamps) Price (includes shipping)
Lightning Audio by Rockford Fosgate 4 AWG ANL Fuse Holder $15 or best offer
2x Rockford Fosgate RFD4 1/0 4 AWG Distribution Block Platinum $20 each or best offer
Kicker 46FHS Single ANL Fuse Holder $25 or best offer
Spool of Solid Copper 12 AWG Wire White $15 or best offer
Spool of Ancor Marine Grade 18 AWG Cable Black $10 or best offer
Spool of Ancor Marine Grade 10 AWG Cable Black $10 or best offer
Lightning Audio by Rockford Fosgate 4 AWG Cable Red $15 or best offer (can give a deal if merged with other components)
Kicker 4 AWG Cable Blue $15 or best offer (can give a deal if merged with other components)
Ancor Marine Grade 18 AWG Cable Black w/ Ring Connectors $10 or best offer (can give a deal if merged with other components)
Kicker 4 AWG Cable Black $5 or best offer (can give a deal if merged with other components)
12 AWG Red Cable w/ Ring Connector $5 or best offer (can give a deal if merged with other components)
Bag of Crimp Connectors $10 or best offer (can give a deal if merged with other components)
4x Fuses $5 each (or $5 for both)

For all free stuff, you either can bundle it with items that you purchase, or you will need to pay for the shipping if you want the free stuff alone.
Free Stuff (Timestamps) Technically Free But Price Is For Shipping Item Alone
4x Maxtor DiamondMax 10 80GB 8MB Cache 7200RPM SATA I (Model: 6L080M0) (includes a rack) $30
Western Digital 500GB Scorpio (broken) $10
Blue Toshiba 120GB HDD2H25 (broken) $10

Free Stuff (Timestamps) Technically Free But Price Is For Shipping Item Alone
Add2PSU Rev A $5
Cooler Master SATA 2x Hard Drive Pane $5
PCIe Slot Fan Mounting Bracket $5
2x Logisys Computer 12" Dual Red Cold Cathode Kit for Sound Control Module $10
Firewire Cable $10
HP 45W Charger (Model: TPN-CA14) $10
HP 45W Charger (Model: HSTNN-DA40) $10
2x Power Switches $5 each (or $5 for both)
Motherboard USB 3.0 to Female USB 3.0 Ports $5 each
XSPC 5.25 inch Reservoir $10
Nose Hair & Nail Clipper Set $5
Bag of MicroSD Protective Covers $5 each (or $10 for all)
Drop Stop Slide-Free Pad $5
Bottle of EK Ekoolant UV Blue 50% Remaining $10
Blue Cube Sponge $5
Glade Wall Spray $5
Canon CompactFlash Card 16MB $5
J+S Sunglass Case $5
EK m.2 NVME Heatsink $10

I am also looking for packaging for an Acer Predator XB273K Monitor (Examples)
submitted by TarondorIX to hardwareswap [link] [comments]

2023.03.27 00:02 Riomine1 Task Force Doomer gets isekai'ed Chap. 30

First Chapter: Task Force Doomer gets isekai'ed Chapter 1 : HFY (reddit.com)
Last Chapter: Task Force Doomer gets isekai'ed Chap. 29 : HFY (reddit.com)
My words rang out like rubber bullets, and they hit with about the same impact. The woman sprang up onto her feet and raised her spear. The only thing that stopped the situation from spiraling anymore out of control was a half-asleep Walter. Who came bursting through the tarp door. ‘Thank the lord above that the stupid bastard didn’t have a gun.’ I thought as 2 rifles and a pistol’s barrels swung to bare on him.
To the dum asses credit, he didn’t piss his pants. I spoke up in order to regain control of the situation.
“Alright, lower your guns boys. That one is ours and I am about to get briefed about the other one.”
Mc’cullen along with Alexei lowered their guns without much hesitation, it took an extra half a second for Xavier to get the memo and lower his pistol. But he did it. I lowered my rifle but still kept an eye on the woman while I walked over to Walter.
“What’s her story?”
Just then Bunden poked his head through the tarp. This normally wouldn’t have mattered in the slightest but, Walter found the perfect person to dump this explanation onto.
“Ask Bunden over there. I am going to try to calm down the nice lady, before she tries to kill us all.”
Walter said before walking away noticeably faster than normal. I turned toward Bunden with my best pissed NCO expression. As he was about to start talking I held up a hand, instead of just going straight into the debrief I told Les about the friendly status of the hilltop FOB. Then I shouted back over my shoulder.
“Get comfy ladies and gents, we are probably going to be here for at least an hour. So brake out the beef ravioli MREs and grab a bite.”
I walked closer to Bunden with what might have been an evil grin on my face. Bunden’s face immediately went stoic but, his eyes pleaded toward the campfire for help. Unfortunately for him, none came. When I got close enough to Bunden I put an arm on his shoulder and led him back into the cave.
An hour later I had finished getting updated on the situation by Bunden, and consequently chewing him out. We both walked out of the cave and into the afternoon sunlight. A fire was blazing happily in the fire pit surrounded by I assumed everyone, except me and Bunden. We quickly fixed that as both me and Bunden walked over.
Something was stuck on a spit and roasting over the fire. The smell filled my nose and produced saliva in my mouth. Snow came over and started cutting pieces off. Of course, I watched as she used her own stone knife to cut the beast to pieces. But, then I came to my senses. Snow was dressed in ragged beast skins and had no boots, I looked over to my right where Kasamir was sitting on a log with his hands outstretched towards the flame. He and Walter were joking around with each other. The jokes seemed to consist of Walter trying to sing and Kasamir holding his hands over his ears.
But Kazamir was still dressed in cloth rags with leather wrappings for boots. The helmet he had borrowed from Walter had been returned. So his messy brown hair lay bare in front of the afternoon setting sun. Mc’cullen and Alexei were passing a metal flask between each other and telling stories in-between swigs. Of course, Snow who probably had a better sense of smell than the two men combined made her way over and started asking for a sip.
She ended up having to trade some strips of meat for a swig. I didn’t see Les or Xavier at first but then I looked down toward the riverbed. To where we had parked the vehicles. Les was in the passenger seat of the missile truck with the door open. Probably because he was talking to Xavier, who was watching the missile pod swivel. ‘At least their pointing the damned missile launcher away from the rest of us while their fucking around with it.’ I thought as I started walking over.
The Grass was slick with the morning’s rain, so I had to try extra hard not to eat dirt on my way down. I was surprised with how wet the grass was, I came from the deserts and rolling desolate hills of the southwest US. The humidity was so low that if you spilled a glass of water on your driveway then you could watch it evaporate before your eyes. So, I was always a little surprised by the more humid climate and the lack of wind.
My idle pondering came to a stop when I reached the parked vehicle. I had walked up behind Xavier, but I don’t think he noticed me. I didn’t want to scare him and get shot, so I just gently cleared my throat. Xavier stiffened slightly and slowly turned around as if he was a child caught with a hand in the cookie jar.
“Jesus christ cabrón (you fucker). You scared me half to death.”
I was taken aback a little by the unexpected Spanish. Maybe it’s because I know what it means? I shook off the questions that sentence raises and got on with why I was here in the first place.
“I’m holding a meeting at the campfire, and you two were the only ones missing.”
Les leaned out of the passenger’s side window and said.
“Do I have to go, I kinda want to play around with this new toy.”
I quickly responded with,
“You want an ammo resupply and some good high-grade MREs or you want no ammo and only get veggie omelet MREs.”
Les’s eyes widened at the mere mention of the dreaded veggie omelet. He hurriedly open the door and ran up the hill towards the fireplace. Xavier after a quick glance at me and then the rapidly fading figure of Les, started to follow him at a jog. But before he went out of earshot, I could hear him mumble.
“What in Saint Maria’s holy kitchen is a veggie omelet?”
I casually strolled up the green-covered slope after the two gremlins. I let out a slight chuckle at the thought of both men being little green men. Turns out that climbing a wet hill is a lot less pleasant than going down a wet hill. I made sure to place my steps carefully onto rocks and drier pieces of foliage. Because of this sure foot placement, I didn’t fall once.
Les and Xavier must have spread the word because when I reached the edge of the firelight’s flicker, everyone was dead silent. Snow and Kazamir were sitting a little straighter than everyone else if that was possible. I let out a sigh as I took a seat near the campfire. I looked them all in the eyes as I began to speak.
“Well, it’s been a while since I got myself elected, so if anyone feels like they want to take over now is the time.”
No one moved.
“Going once, going twice, going three times.”
I sighed as nobody moved.
“Sold to that man with the stars and stripes,”
I sarcastically muttered under my breath. But whatever I thought about being the commander doesn’t matter now, so I just continued.
“Alright, now that’s out of the way. I am going to be focusing on organization and logistics for our little group. We have about enough people for about a squad-sized element, so I’ll split us up into 3 fire teams of three people each. First fireteam leads, of course, I’ll be the leader of fireteam alpha, Bunden you’re going to be Bravo team lead, and Les you're going to be Charlie team lead.
Any objections?”
Les immediately raised his hand.
“How much paper and red tape do we got.”
I made a goose egg (zero) with my hand. He nodded and began to smile. I gave another second of silence, the crackling of the firepit being the only sound from the assembled group. When nobody moved, let alone speak, I continued.
“Alexei and Kaza you’re with me, Walter and Xavier you’re Bunden’s problem now, Les you get Mc’cullen and Snow. any objections?”
Les and Mc’cullen looked over to the cat woman a little bit nervously. Snow seemed to miss read them entirely and started blushing. But other than that there wasn’t much else fan-fare. These are professionals after all, well ‘professionals’ I thought as I saw Walter staring at Snow.
“Good, then everyone get to know each other. But first who needs what?”
It took us a good 30 minutes to figure out how much ammo was needed, what size uniform Xavier, Kazamir, and Snow were, and other such details. Some highlights were, convincing Snow that Xavier was just trying to figure out her size for clothes, and not trying to touch her breasts. The argument ended when Xavier professed to liking the toe hooks and rims of the trucks more than he liked her breasts and Snow responded by kicking him ‘lightly’.
Another less serious event starring Snow is when Walter began to ask her what gun she wanted. This spiraled into her wanting a javelin missile launcher, an M1A2 main battle tank, and an F35 stealth jet. But to give credit where it’s due, Walter managed to talk her down into just wanting an M1014 semi-auto shotgun. Walter didn’t even have to ask me to put it on the list. Mainly because Snow was talking so loud that I couldn’t not hear them.
Luckily Kazamir was easier to handle than Snow was. Mainly because if he started acting up then I would promise that he wouldn’t get his present. The present in this case was essentially the rifle Alexei had in order to standardize calibers, plus some better clothes so he could stop looking like the 15th-century farm boy he was.
I had a hard time trying to fit everything we needed into the 100-pound (45.35kg) weight limit. Then I just was like fuck it. we are getting two, a small drop only costs 3 points each and we have 17 points. That leaves us with 11 points so we can get an A-10 strike if any shit situation gets bad enough.
“Hey Tower, I’m requesting two small supply drops on my location with the following supplies.”

Next Chapter:
Writer's notes: thank you all for giving me a week to sort out stuff behind the scenes. I am going to try to get two chapters out next week, but we'll see about that. anyway have a great day and thanks for reading.
submitted by Riomine1 to HFY [link] [comments]

2023.03.27 00:01 ZachTheLitchKing [WP] u are on fire. U dont know why or how. All u know is ur on fire.

Original Prompt

"Oh my god!" Bea exclaimed in fear as she looked down at her hands. Fire traced over every pore of her body, every outline of her form a living flame. Her attempts to cast a simple firelight spell had backfired spectacularly and now she was on fire.
"Stay calm," Ophelia said in an even tone, but Bea could hear the worry in her voice as she started to flip through an old spell book, "Do you feel a burning sensation?"
"N-no," Bea stammered, her mind not going to the obvious dirty jokes that could have stemmed from such a question, "But it's hot."
"Yes, you are," Ophelia said, giving Bea a smile. Bea looked at her with mingled fear and anger. Flirting was fine, and Bea was usually more flirty than the elf, but right now Bea was not in the mood, "Sorry... just trying to lighten the mood. Keep thinking about the fire and that it is interesting that it is not burning you."
Bea looked down at her hand and flexed her fingers nervously. It felt sort of like being in a very hot bath, minus the wetness, where every move made the fire feel freshly hot but she was, notably, not being burned.
"I am going to need to you start willing the fire to extinguish," Ophelia said, "It is not burning you, therefore it has nothing to feed from. Without fuel, it must go out."
"Right," Bea said, moving her hand a little, "I'm not getting burnt, so the fire isn't burning anything..." she took a deep breath and really thought about that idea, really pursued the logic there. Magic was controlled by willpower and knowledge. Bea had the knowledge that the fire was not burning her, so it had no fuel, so it had to go out, and now she was just trying to enforce that fact on the flames.
It took a couple of minutes but the fire was eventually all gone. Ophelia had to talk Bea through putting her hair out since it was a possible fuel source, but the lack of burning hair smell meant it was also not burning.
"Okay, that was close," Bea said, wiping some sweat from her forehead, "I'm gonna step outside for some fresh air."
"Um, wait, not just yet," Ophelia said, quickly grabbing Bea's arm before she could get to the door, "We need to... get you a new outfit," Ophelia blushed a bit but smiled flirtily again. Bea looked down, only now realizing that her clothing had burned off. She yelled and covered herself with her arms as Ophelia, chuckling, went to find her some new clothes.
submitted by ZachTheLitchKing to TomesOfTheLitchKing [link] [comments]

2023.03.26 23:58 FirstImpressions38 how do i style wavy hair?

i have wavy hair. i’m not sure what type, but it’s just wavy. no curls.
i tried consistently styling it a few months ago and it was a mess. it looked dirty and heavy. i have since cut my hair and would like to try again but i’m not quite sure how to do it. i’ve always had my hair straight.
i know that my hair is ok with silicons, though it’s only in my conditioner. i also know that my hair builds up heavily and a few times a month i have to use a cleansing shampoo. i also can’t squish to condish.
all of that being said, does anyone have any tips for me? my hair is now a little longer than shoulder by the way
thank you !! (:
submitted by FirstImpressions38 to curlyhair [link] [comments]