Mine are as follows:

1. Freddy Got Fingered - If this movie had been released on Adult Swim sometime in the late 2000s, it would've been called a masterpiece. It is a PERFECT trolling of a major movie studio. A 90-minute middle finger to Hollywood.
   
2. The Toxic Avenger - I didn't know if I should put this on the list, but I have to. It's so violent and so messed up, but at the same time it has a surprising amount of heart.
   
3. Troll 2 - How can anyone NOT love this movie? It's like a Zen riddle. Nothing in it works, so it works completely.
   
4. Howard the Duck - Bad sci-fi movies can be a real blast, especially when the lead character is an anthropomorphic duck. Just the idea of a cute Disney-style duck in the modern world is great, and this movie does nothing to capitalize on a capital idea.
   
5. Super Mario Bros. - Bob Hoskins put it perfectly: it's a movie where the directors' arrogance was mistaken for talent. I have to give props to the cast for trying their hardest to make it work. This is one I loved as a kid and I can't say it's good at all, but damn it's fun.
   

I'd like to hear from women with GHSV2 in their 40's. What do you do to prevent tearing during or after sex. What lube do you use? What helps? Just FYI, this happens even if it's not rough, just in case you were wondering. What do you do to keep your V healthy and moist in general. Thanks in advance.

Ps5 sim style discord ran league. All madden 7 minute quarters. Light rules. Game of the week/active/streaming rewards. We are finishing season 2 this week and starting playoffs. Very active league. Competitive as well. Plans on going multiple more seasons. Come join in time for the offseason and build up your team. Open teams. 4-11 saints top 5 pick 5-10 bucs top 10 and late first 1-14 Texans likely first pick in draft and mid first Pictures of current rosters in discord
https://discord.gg/me2SMKPS

This is a super cool older GSAR (manufactured in 2008) with the old style face, second hand, and second lines on face. The tritium has aged and is dull but still illuminates at a normal useable brightness compared to brand new tritium the face displays the nuclear logo. The watch is Automatic with the “US Government” markings and a was serviced by Marathon in December of 2022 invoice included. It has a a new bezel insert from Marathon and compared to my newer GSAR the older bezel clicks are much higher quality. Everything pictured is included/new rubber marathon straps, old logo marathon strap, original 2008 stainless band, and bonus watch straps. TV/SV: $850 Also posted in the watch exchange subreddit.
Trades: Eotech EXPS-3 plus cash/Aimpoint Comp M5
https://imgur.com/a/kx4pWTf

My dog (2y mix breed) has a really rough play style. She really likes to wrestle with other dogs, and always goes for the neck to pin them. The dogs she plays with regularly play back with her in the same way. However, I'm concerned because it so closely resembles fighting.
Should I be concerned? I'd like her to stop playing this way anyways, at least the neck grabbing and biting. Any suggestions for training this out of her? I'd really like to use positive reinforcement if I can.
TIA :)

https://www.callowstories.net/audio-stories
Thank you for taking the time to listen! i'm still trying to figure out how I plan on sharing this type of content. So far, I'm thinking a series of short-form, podcast style episodes.
Any and all feedback welcome. Thank you again!

users must have at least 11 verified trades or use a reliable proxy for trades
Pictures/Video
TV/SV: $120
Trades: Looking for a non repro bayonet that will fit a Yugo M48 Mauser, also interested in a Holosun 403R. I don't mind adding or accepting cash to offset trade values
Please leave a comment before sending a PM or I will not respond
Hello friends, I'm back again this evening with another watch. So this watch has been an ongoing project that I've decided to finally part with. It's been a months long endeavor to make this into something else but i'm instead deciding just to part with it so I can free up resources to do other stuff. It's like a Seiko SKX but it's the off brand SKX you have at home.
The Seiko SKX series, primarily the SKX007 and SKX009 is the entire basis for the whole amateur watch modding community. It's like the AR-15 except the patent never expired. Thousands of aftermarket parts are made to fit within the dimensions and spec of these watches along with tons of other Seiko models that use similar parts. So that being said you're going to have tons of variation in aftermarket parts, some are basically indistinguishable or even nicer than OEM quality, some are purposely made to be different in subtle ways for legal reasons, and some are just not as good.
The case on this watch just isn't that good. It's definitely not bad but if you've handled an OEM SKX or a nicer mod using other cases there is a noticeable difference. The material itself seems to be good quality stainless steel, but some of the internal machining like on the threads was a bit rough and the polishing on the exterior is nothing special. The protruding crown guards are angled at a very sharp angle and not smoothed out as much as the OEM or other SKX cases. The biggest thing is that they don't slope at the same angle as the crown itself so getting your fingers around the crown and trying to unscrew it is more difficult than it needs to be. I ended up swapping in a knurled crown to make this a bit easier. The bezel action also leaves a lot to be desired. There is some play in it and it uses a different style of click spring than the OEM SKX cases that a lot of other cases use so you can't really change the bezel itself that easily. The lug position and shape are also slightly different enough where this won't be compatible with steel bracelets fitted for a SKX without modification. All that being said it is still a perfectly serviceable watch. The 42mm size and 22mm lugs keeps it almost identical in size to the OEM SKX. The flat sapphire crystal is clear, and the case passed a 4ATM pressure test so it should be fairly watertight.
All of the parts I used at assembly were lightly used. The dial is new, I bought a ton of these vintage style dials with faux patina lume some time ago and at this point I'm just trying to make them go away. Good thing is they mostly look good in everything. The watch has a Seiko automatic NH35 movement, it does not use batteries. I've regulated the movement to run within +/-10s per day. The movement and hands came from another project I had in the past and the bezel insert was purchased pre-owned from a second hand retailer but all of it is in very good condition and really doesn't show any wear. I also was going to eventually change out the chapter ring to one without minute markers. You generally only want minute markers printed on the dial or on the chapter ring but not both. It makes the watch harder to read but some people like that aesthetic. You decide for yourself if this bothers you or not. Like I said there is nothing wrong with this watch, it's perfectly serviceable, but if this was an AR-15 you're basically getting Anderson not Aero and the price reflects that.
Thanks for looking and have a great night!

Edited for clarity.
I’m trying to find a game, but I cannot remember hardly anything about it. I just remember this beautiful magical land. I played a demo of this game and would get super bummed after about 2 days of non-stop gameplay on my Windows desktop, then my demo being over.
Platform: PC
Genre: Adventure (might have even been in the name) and may include mazes?
Estimated Year of Release: 2004-2009
Graphics/Art Style: 3D
Notable Characters: Reminds me of Pac-Man, but may have nothing to do with it all.
Notable Gameplay: I think you could upgrade and play as a colorful…ball?
Does anyone have any potential leads? My partner and I have scoured the internet for over an hour now, and cannot find anything close. I literally cannot remember ANYTHING about it. Not even the objective. I just remember that I went crazy over this game.

It didn’t make the actual site but this is what it conjured, pretty nuts imo
Someone in tech know how hard it would be to do?
———
As an AI language model assistant, I can provide you with a high-level overview of how to approach building a website that has a map of all the treeplanting contracts in Canada.
The website can be built using a combination of different technologies such as HTML, CSS, JavaScript, and a backend language such as PHP or Python. Here are the basic steps you can follow:
Create a map-based system: To create a map-based system, you can use a mapping service such as Google Maps API or Mapbox. This will allow you to create custom maps and add different markers for each tree planting contract.

1. Go to the Google Maps Platform website and create a new project.
2. Enable the Google Maps JavaScript API for your project.
3. Create a new API key and restrict the API key to your domain name.
4. Add the Google Maps JavaScript API to your web page, using the JavaScript code provided by Google.
5. Set up your map container using HTML and CSS on your web page.
6. Initialize your map script using JavaScript and the API key you generated earlier.
7. Configure and customize your map using various options and methods available in the Maps JavaScript API documentation, such as adding markers or overlays, displaying directions, and more.
8. Integrate your map-based system with any other technologies, such as a backend system or a database, that you might need to provide additional functionality.

Data Collection: Collect data on all available tree planting contracts in Canada. You can use web scraping techniques to collect data from government websites or other sources.

1. Using libraries and frameworks like Beautiful Soup, Scrapy, and Selenium
2. Making HTTP requests to retrieve HTML content and parsing the data
3. Utilizing regular expressions to extract specific data from the HTML
4. Implementing API scraping to retrieve data from websites that have a RESTful API
5. Using browser extensions like Data Miner, Web Scraper, and Scraper by ParseHub
6. Scraping data from web pages using Google Sheets formulae and functions
7. Utilizing machine learning algorithms to extract relevant data

Data Storage: Once you have collected the data, you will need to store it in a database. You can use a database such as MySQL or MongoDB to store the data.

1. Install the pymongo package by running the following command in your command prompt or terminal: pip install pymongo
   
2. Import the package and connect to your MongoDB server by creating a MongoClient object: ```python from pymongo import MongoClient
   

Establish a connection to MongoDB

client = MongoClient('mongodb://localhost:27017/') ```

1. Create a new database and collection to store your data: ```python # Create a new database db = client['my_database']

Create a new collection called my_collection

collection = db['my_collection'] ```

1. Insert your scraped data into the collection: ```python # Data to be inserted data = {'name': 'John', 'age': 30}

Insert the data into the collection

collection.insert_one(data) ```

1. Data Visualisation: You can visualize the data on the map by adding markers for each tree planting contract. Each marker can be clickable and show more information such as bid price and the tree price.
   
2. Obtain latitude and longitude coordinates for the locations you want to mark on the map.
   
3. Choose a map visualization tool or platform that supports marker placement, such as Google Maps, LeafletJS, or Mapbox.
   
4. Create a new map, or select an existing map to which you want to add markers.
   
5. Using your chosen map tool, add a marker layer or feature to the map.
   
6. Input the coordinates for each location you want to mark on the map, and add any additional information or icons you wish to include with each marker.
   
7. Customize the marker colors, icons, and labels to match the type of data you are visualizing.
   
8. Preview and save your map, and share it with your intended audience.
   

Design: Design the website by using HTML, CSS and JavaScript to create an easy-to-use interface for users to navigate and interact with the map.

1. First, create an HTML file and name it something like "google-maps.html". Inside the file, create a basic HTML structure with a head and body section.
   
2. In the head section, include the necessary CSS files and also include the Google Maps API script using the following code:
   html
   Note: You need to replace "YOUR_API_KEY" with the actual API key for Google Maps API.
   
3. In the body section, create a div with an ID of "map" where the Google map will be displayed:
   html
   
   
4. Create a CSS file and link it to the HTML file. Use CSS to style the "map" div as well as any other elements that you want to include in your website.
   
5. In a JavaScript file, create a function that initializes the Google Map with the help of the API.
   ```javascript function initMap() { // Specify the coordinates for the center of the map var center = { lat: 40.712776, lng: -74.005974 };
   // Create a new map object var map = new google.maps.Map(document.getElementById('map'), { zoom: 12, center: center }); } ```
   
6. Finally, call the "initMap()" function in your HTML file to display the map:
   html ...
   

Testing: Test the website to ensure that it works as expected and that all the data is displayed accurately.
Overall, building a website that has a map of all the treeplanting contracts in Canada can be a complex process, but breaking it down into steps can help simplify the development process.

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**What will you be doing with this PC? Be as specific as possible, and include specific games or programs you will be using.*\*
Mostly playing AAA games like destiny, apex, mc (hopefully w/light rt), etc. I'd also like to be able to do my homework on one screen and not experience crazy frame drops when doing both at once. My laptop has not much room for multitasking and I avg like 17fps in D2 medium when I have any apps on in bg.
**What is your maximum budget before rebates/shipping/taxes?*\*
My absolute max would be $900, in college and I don't want to go into debt buying it haha.
>**When do you plan on building/buying the PC? Note: beyond a week or two from today means any build you receive will be out of date when you want to buy.*\*
I'd like to have all my parts purchased by mid april - early may, the cheaper the build the sooner I will build it.
**What, exactly, do you need included in the budget? (ToweOS/monitokeyboard/mouse/etc\)*\*
Just the tower (If you know of a great XL desk mat I wouldn't be opposed)
**Which country (and state/province) will you be purchasing the parts in? If you're in US, do you have access to a Microcenter location?*\*
Washington State, US. No microcenters within 900 miles of me.
**If reusing any parts (including monitor(s)/keyboard/mouse/etc), what parts will you be reusing? Brands and models are appreciated.*\*
Monitor: MSI G241 , 144 Hz, 1080p, IPS (Upgrading in future)
Keyboard: Glorious, GMMK Pro
Mouse: Glorious, Model O
**Will you be overclocking? If yes, are you interested in overclocking right away, or down the line? CPU and/or GPU?*\*
TBH, I don't understand it, so probably not.
**Are there any specific features or items you want/need in the build? (ex: SSD, large amount of storage or a RAID setup, CUDA or OpenCL support, etc)*\*
SSD storage, at least 1 TB, 16 GB ram (I'd like a small amount of RGB)
**Do you have any specific case preferences (Size like ITX/microATX/mid-towefull-tower, styles, colors, window or not, LED lighting, etc), or a particular color theme preference for the components?*\*
ATX cases, black/darker colours, windows yes, pref. light or no lighting, going for a black/ambewood color theme, black components are nice, but I know how to paint if that is cheaper.
**Do you need a copy of Windows included in the budget? If you do need one included, do you have a preference?*\*
I think so, I saw somewhere there are free sources, but a usb version might be safer
**Extra info or particulars:*\*
I'm entirely open to buying used off of ebay marketplace etc.
I've been waiting for a fractal north case, if it doesn't become available by the time I order the rest I will buy a diff case.
I'd like to use an AIO for the build, but I've heard it is wise to use the built in fans that come with pc cases instead for lower mid builds like I want so that's fine.
​
Here is a build that I kind of slapped together in pcpartpicker, but I have a feeling it's not great

Two of my best friends are getting married in July and the wedding is a red carpet Hollywood glam theme. They literally told us to "try to outdo them" when it comes to attire. Can anyone point me to where I could get a red carpet like dress without breaking the bank?
Some details: -2 grooms -rent the runway is sold out over the wedding weekend -I'd prefer to keep it to $200 max -I honestly have no idea what style I'm looking for, hoping to get pointed to site where I can find red carpet like dresses in my budget and get inspired when I look at options

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.
“Ow!”
“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.”
Busted.
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.
THUD.
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.
THUD.
THUD.
THUD.
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.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck!
He slammed his fists into the window in frustration, but I was already seeing his message start to blossom and make sense.
“WHO.”
Casper was crying. I could see that he could barely breathe, struggling to inhale, swiping at his eyes with smudged fists.
“AM.”
“I?”
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.
“DID YOUR MOM HURT YOU?”
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?

Price drop on everything
LBT day pack - desert digital (basically AOR1) 8005a. Not used, been sitting in a bin. 100 $90 or bundle with the AOR1 PC and I'll take $50 off.
2x translucent fde Lancer mags - 30 round mags, 2x translucent fde, (smoke and purple lancers are gone). Look cool on the gram. Not used, just unwrapped. $30 for the 2
Arisaka Mossie flashlight mount - mounts to FSB. 50 $45
Rock River Arms Dominator mount - RRA pic rail riser mount and rear sight. Has some use, but not any crazy salt. 100 90 $85
Yugo BHO Steel AK Mags - 10 6x 30rd bolt hold open ak47 mags. A couple were used once or maybe twice at the range. Otherwise these have been sitting in an ammo can with some desiccant in my closet for a while. They're in good shape. 6 for $145175. Will split up further if you pay additional shipping. I'll also include a free translucent green mag if you get all 6.
AOR1 Beez Combat Systems Custom Aptum PC - $540 $520

• 10x12/Medium
  
• AOR1 RDR Gear MSP with elastic triple rifle mag insert and double pistol mag insert
  
• A&A Tactical SEACU with First Spear Tubes (coyote). Awesome elastic cummerbund with tubes and 2 layers of elastic pouches sewn in, one for rifle mags and one for pistol/SMG/PCC mags.
  
• Longship Designs JTAC adapter and Longship baofeng radio pouch (radio not included)
  
• Persec Gear nav board/phone board thing in AOR1
  
• Shaw Concepts padded plate backers
  
• Message for more pics/videos and any questions, and I have a couple non tubes bunds available to lower the price if needed.
  

ASNL cali combat hoodie - All Skill No Luck hoodie. Tan earth and then green and grey diamond. Both size XL. One unworn, other tried on for 15 minutes, been sitting in my closet for a while since. They have the new style cummerbund and insert attachment. 99 $90 each
KNIVES (more pics available upon request):
Protech Newport, Rose gold. Great condition, never carried, test cut some paper, the bigger knife in the pictures if you aren't familiar with the models - 195 185 $180
Benchmade mini freek, first prod run. Fidgeted with, but I don't think it ever cut anything, have original box. - 290 $280
General stuff:
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Edit:
I'm looking for a TNC mlok polymer grip stop K and emissary mlok handbrake - prefer black but let me know what you have.
And I also want an mlok Slate Black Industries slate stop in FDE.
($15-30 depending on the handstop and condition)