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Carry-On only for Business Travel

2023.06.05 11:55 mellowmadre Carry-On only for Business Travel

I travel a lot for work and cannot afford to lose a checked bag, so I only do carry-on. This means I need to pack both casual and business attire, which can be challenging. It has taken some practice and watching a lot of Youtube videos on packing, but I am getting close to what works for me. I'd appreciate any advice you have. The bag is a bit on the heavy side but still within the airline’s limits and I’m able to lift it into the overhead bins on my own. Below is what I packed for a 10-day trip.
THE BAGS:
Carry-on luggage by Sigg – it is a discontinued brand but I love it. The 2-wheeled bag is a super tough (ballistic nylon) exterior with a compression zipper, telescoping handle, and a zipped water bottle holder on the outside. Normally, I’m a spinner luggage kind-of-gal, but the 2 wheels on this bag can be pushed somewhat like a spinner rather than dragged like most 2-wheeled bags. It also has a couple outer zipped areas for a laptop, pens, thin papers, etc). On the inside it is split in two major compartments, with the base fully lined with waterproof nylon that opens with zipper (I keep my garment bag under the liner just in case there are any spills in or around my bag), built-in compression straps, a mesh center divider for underclothes, and one side with elastic shoe sleeve pockets. There are a couple smaller pockets along the edges of the bag interior, including one thin waterproof one.
Personal Item by BagSmart (a Nomadlane dupe), fits under the seat in front of you and opens up fully like a suitcase. 2 main compartments and two additional exterior pockets which is handy but there are features of this bag I don’t like, such as the trolley sleeve and waterbottle sleeve—both are too tight to be useful. But it is a fraction of the cost of the Nomadlane bag, so it will work for now.
2 generic medium sized packing cubes / 1 medium toiletries bag / 1 jewelry case / 1 clear quart liquids bag with a zipper / 2 smaller sorting bags (reusing free business class toiletry bags) / 1 laundry bag / 1 ziploc bag / 1 thin cloth folding garment bag (feels like reusable grocery bag material) / 1 purse

THE STRATEGY:
Maintain normal business appearance but minimize by wearing neutrals and all within the same color palette. Buy travel sizes of almost everything, organize by dividing items into smaller containers by type and time of usage (on the plane vs in the hotel room vs at work vs out touring); Economize space by bringing fewer bulky items by using the hotel’s hairdryer, steaming my business clothes in the bathroom while I shower or use the hotel’s iron, have shoes and clothes that are versatile for several outfits but also reuse/wash (in the sink) clothes as necessary. Try to get a workout in when possible.

CLOTHES: (folded in Marie Kondo style or hung in the garment bag, which is folded in half)
In the packing cubes:
2 cardigans
3 t-shirts (one worn on the plane)
1 pair of yoga pants
2 jeans (one worn on the plane)
2 slip skirts
1 pair of capri pants
1 pair of silk pajamas
1 casual dress (with folded items in packing cube)

In the compartments built into the suitcase:
2 sports bras
11 pairs of underwear
1 pair of wool socks
2 pair of sport socks
1 full-body Spanx
1 slimming camisole
1 one-piece swimsuit
1 pantyhose
3 underwire bras (one worn on the plane)
3 pairs of shoes—sandals, flats and one pair of sneakers worn on the plane

In the garment bag:
6 thin blouses (includes 1 button down)
1 black suit with 1 blazer, 2 pants and 1 skirt
1 khaki dress pants

In the personal item:
1 R1 Patagonia full zip hoodie (worn on the plane)
1 Longchamp foldable Le Pliage Shopping purse – serves as my work laptop bag and my purse
1 pair of compression socks

TOILETRIES AND MAKEUP
I divide these into two major categories – on the plane and at the hotel. For on the plane, I use 2 small bags which are kept in my personal item-- one for liquids and another for anything else I need without needing to get into my carry-on suitcase.
1 pack of gum
1 face mist
2 lip balms
4+ lipsticks and glosses
1 Tyme hair iron
1 eyeshadow palette
1 bareminerals foundation powder
Powder, eyebrow, eyeshadow, lip and blush brushes
Several pairs of contact lenses and carrying case with solution
2 Razor
1 Foot callus file
2 Fingernail file
2-3 Eyeliners
2 Lip Liners
2 Pencil Sharpeners
1 Deodorant
1 Lint Roller
Sample creams
Tretinoin in 2 strengths (face and neck)
Vaseline (so versatile – takes off makeup, moisturizes, slugs)
Ibuprofen, Benadryl, Bandaids, Neosporin, sleep aid for the plane
Toothbrush, floss, plackers/picks, mouthwash and toothpaste
Cerave AM and Under Eye Cream
1 Dermaplaner
2 Hair clips and bands, shower cap (from the hotel)
Lactic Acid exfoliator for face
Hair Bun Maker
Deep Conditioner and Shampoo
Travel Hairspray
Bobby Pins
Visine
QTips
Hand Lotion
Facial Cleanser
Laundry Sheets
Facial Primer
Cough Drops
Arnica Tablets
Tums
Teeth Whitening Strips
Tide Pen
Tweezers
Nail Clippers
2 Combs
Mascara
Tampons and a few pantyliners
Brassy Hair treatment
Small Canister of Nivea Cream
2 Makeup Sponges/Blenders
Eyebrow Pen and Powder
Sample Size Perfumes
2 Concealers
Bronzer, Blush and Highlighter Palette
Contour and Corrector
JVN Shine Drops for Hair
Hand Sanitizer
Antibacterial wipes
Face Wipes
Dayquil and NyQuil
Immodium / Kaeopectate
Afrin

PERSONAL ITEMS AND ACCESSORIES Global Entry Card, credit cards, ATM card, Priority Pass Card, Covid Vaccination card, a few business cards and cash
1 jewelry case (3 necklaces, 4 sets of earrings, 1 bracelet)
Several sets of noise canceling ear plugs (Mack’s silicone and the foam ones)
Several face masks and 2 eye masks
3 scarves (especially useful when in the Middle East)
1 pair of sunglasses
2 pairs of eyeglasses (worn 1 on the plane)
Supplements case
Water bottle
1 umbrella
1 travel wallet
1 belt that reverses black and brown
1 journal
1 work notebook and pens
1 yoga strap
1 resistance band
1 rolly ball for my feet
1 add-a-lock
Bag of tea, coffee, and hot cocoa
Tiny salt & pepper
10 Protein bars
1 travel sewing kit
1 folding plastic bag (waste bin size)
10-15 cotton face pads
1 bag strap (helps stack the bags – I don’t like the trolley loop on the BagSmart bag)
1 book

ELECTRONICS
All are kept in a bag inside my personal item:
1 laptop computer, mouse, and charger
1 cell phone and charger
1 pair of bluetooth earbuds
1 fitbit and charger
1 international power converter and adapter
(sometimes I will bring a hotspot or a power bank, but not this trip)

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2023.06.05 11:17 mellowmadre Carry-On only for Business Travel

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2023.06.05 09:52 ScribblingFox98 The Survivor Becomes a Dungeon (Chapter 79)

First
Vitmori POV
Work had begun almost immediately as Trisha got the forge going, talking with Heptio as she started going through the motions. It was clear to me that she was already off in her own little world. Rita had lingered to watch the work for a moment, but I could tell she was bored of this before long and began making her way out of the forge. Reyvyre had stood around for a little while longer before also making her way out, though she waved for me to follow; seeing no reason not to, I joined her and fell in step beside her. "So, how does your avatar feel? Trisha and Rita mentioned you battled with Reonim." She asked as she glanced over at me; I could see and feel her eyes wandering my body, though I could sense it was strictly analytical as she reviewed her handiwork.
"Hmm... Well, I lost, for one." I mentioned with a bit of a smile and shrugging a bit. "Reaction time wasn't as fast as my original body, though it was fast enough. I think I figured out a hint in using mana to enhance my physical capability, but I was unable to maintain my boosted running speed. My overall physical capabilities were good despite my low weight, but how heavy I am doesn't really matter to me. If I do need more weight, I'm sure I can manage with some kind of metal or stone weights."
Reyvyre's intrigue and curiosity were palpable as I spoke, I could sense that she wanted to take down notes, but she realized that she forgot her notepad back at the longhouse; focusing back on me, she nodded intently at my words before speaking up. "It sounds a lot like the delay that people with artificial limbs experience. The suggested remedy for that is to just use the limb as much as you can... So I suppose it's only a matter of time until your avatar feels natural." She suggested as she absently ran her fingers through her hair. "As for making use of your mana heart, I'm afraid I don't have much experience in actively using it. The only benefits I truly make use of are the ones that maintain my body with the reduced need to eat, sleep and drink. Though I'm sure Reonim could advise you." She said before looking unsure as she tilted her side to side a bit. "Well... He's knowledgable and able to explain things easily enough, but he hasn't shown much talent in actually teaching." She admitted with a little shrug.
"Well, how common are mana hearts and magic users?" Now that I'm really thinking about it, the only people I've seen with mana hearts were mostly those in my service, aside from the drakewardens, Virtisa, Jaz, Lanzak, and Sylvia. Isaak looked like he had some glittering lights around his heart, but he had not actually developed one yet. Even Dhalia only had a mana heart; it wasn't even that impressive.
Reyvyre seemed to need a moment for that, I could feel her mind swirling with information as she considered my question. "One in ten people naturally develop mana hearts, one in twenty will develop their mana hearts to effectively use in combat at Reonim's level, and one in forty are able to cultivate their mana hearts to develop a single mana ring." She explained before looking over at me. "And that is only considering the short-lived races." She mentioned as she looked back out at the treeline below us. "You won't encounter many as powerful as yourself or even as powerful as I am, but there are many ways to develop mana hearts and mana rings, so there will be more than the predicted amount of those with mana hearts here and there, especially in the service of nobles, affluent merchants, among the guilds, or the various academies." She explained as she listed them out on her fingers.
"I see. Well, maybe I'll see for myself once my armor and equipment are ready. I was planning on joining Basti in visiting the Hegemony and investigating the trafficking on their side of things." I decided to mention it as we neared the base of my mountain.
I could feel Reyvyre's look at me curiously at that comment. "Are you sure you're up for it? I mean no offense, but this world is nothing like yours, I just don't want you to be taken advantage of or misled." She expressed sincere worry and concern plainly on her face as she watched me.
I couldn't help but be amused by that as I returned her look with a quirked brow. "You may be four times older than me, but I'm still a grown man capable of caring for myself. People will still be people, no matter where they are from. As long as they can still be swayed by words, actions, kindness, or violence; I should be fine wherever I end up." I was half joking with that comment, but as far as I've seen with the people in the haven, even if they look different, they're still just people like I used to know.
I could sense Reyvyre's uncertainty, though she soon accepted my words and decided to move on to the next topic as we got down into the woods. "Well, if you're going on a trip, would you mind if I took Reonim and visited my clan?" She asked curiously, I could tell she wanted to go no matter what I said, though she also felt I wouldn't say no to something like that, and she wouldn't be wrong.
"Leaving so soon? You haven't even been back for a full week." I mused, deciding to pry just a little bit before letting her do what she wanted.
Reyvyre seemed to catch on to what I was after and obliged with a bit of a smile. "Well, I need to go report my status as possibly the youngest elven mage to etch their fourth ring of mana around their heart." She enthused proudly, though she then looked rather sheepish as she scratched the back of her head. "It's also been a decade since I last reported back, and I'm one of fifteen elves to actually wander beyond my clan borders, so I should probably inform them of the events of the world sooner rather than later." She chuckled a little bit before looking back at me. "If it's okay with you, I'd like to return the remains of the elf we found in Lictdren's chamber to my people, the armor she wore was a lost treasure for the elven people, and returning it should do well to endear the clan to you and possibly the Empire, thanks to your alliance with them." She explained, the anticipation clear in her eyes about the possibilities.
"Just admit it, you have a hard time staying in one place, don't you?" I tease gently before smirking a bit. "Though I do appreciate you going out of your way to find me more friends in this world." I said as I looked over at her, glancing at my mark around her throat. "Sure, go for it, just let me do this real quick." I mentioned as I stepped closer, reaching out and gently poking her neck. I could feel her jolt with surprise, though she remained still as her mind hummed with curiosity at what I'm doing. To be honest, I'm not even sure what I'm doing, but I focus as I trail my finger from her neck, down to her shoulder and pull away. My mark had seamlessly moved away from being so clearly distinct on her neck, down to her shoulder where most other people tend to have it. "There... Sorry if that was uncomfortable." I said as I flashed a small smile. "But my mark looked too much like a collar on you, and that wasn't sitting right with me." I explained as I rubbed the back of my head. I'm not sure why I did this right now, but it felt right.
Reyvyre looked surprised to say the least, absently touching her neck and swallowing. I could sense a flurry of emotions coursing through her mind, but overall I could feel that the collar-like mark did bother her, at least in the corner of her mind when she saw others with my mark in more discrete places. After a moment, she smiled at me as she looked up into my eyes. "Thank you Vitmori, for your help and your permission." She says while looking away, still absently touching her neck as she continues on our way back to the Haven. Though as we drew closer, she glanced back at me and flashed a smile. "Say... How about I show you some of the basics of magic? I'm sure you'll have a handle on it in no time." She mentioned with a grin.
"That sounds good to me." I reply with a bob of my head.
Reyvyre nodded in return before looking away. "Give me some time to set things up, I'll come get you in a little bit." She said as she stepped away and went off in a different direction than the Haven.
I watched her go for a couple of moments, though I made my way over to the clearing soon enough as I walked around. Most people are working on various things, though I do see a cluster of people working around a long, stripping it of bark using the new tools I had given them. I make my way over, spotting a beaverkin man snacking on some bark chips as he seemingly takes a break while Lanzak leads the group now. "You are Woody, right?" I ask, not entirely sure of their name since it felt a little on the nose.
The beaverkin man jumped a little with surprise, having been lost in thought while enjoying his snack. Looking over at me, he offers a grin before standing as he tucked the remaining wood chips he had into his pocket, all while doing his best to chew what he had in his mouth before swallowing and clearing his throat. "Guilty as charged." He expressed cheerfully as he stepped up to me. "Is there anything I could help you with?" He asked as he absently wiped at something at the edge of his lips.
"Yeah, Trisha mentioned that you would be making my bow and arrows for me, I just wanted to know if there's anything I can help with to get you started?" I explain as I glance over at the work they're already doing.
Woody looked thoughtful, his beaver tail tapping almost absently against the dirt behind him. "I know that the Shepherd Zasutir said that we should be doing work on our own so as to not burden you... However, if you are offering your help in exchange for something, then I suppose we are not burdening you anymore and this is just an exchange of service." He reasoned with a shrewd smile before continuing. "We need much more wood than we are able to process ourselves at the rate we're going. Between firewood and construction materials, we need to get a lot of this set up and drying if we want to make any considerable progress on construction after winter has passed." He explained as his tail tapped at the dirt again. "Now, I did hear those drakewardens were planning on coming in with builders and supplies in the next couple of weeks, but wood is a long-term commodity that has lots of uses." He explained, now all business, though even as he spoke, he reached into his pocket and popped a wood chip into his mouth every now and then. "If you don't mind, could you use some of that dungeon magic of yours to take down twenty trees for us?"
"Only twenty trees?" I asked before chuckling a bit. I certainly don't mind the work, and I do have a lot more mana to work with than I had several weeks ago. Plus, Woody did have a point, this sort of stuff is no longer a one-sided charity of giving them whatever they need, they're doing stuff for me now and I'm working to earn it. Even if I think twenty trees don't exactly equate to a bow and arrows.
Woody nodded as he chewed on some more bark. "Yep, for now. It's not like we're gonna stop cutting down more trees, though we won't be as rushed if you can do this for us... And as impressive as the longhouse you made is, what we need now are simple buildings for us to grow into before we improve on them later." He explained as he wiped his lips absently. "All we need to do is build the frames and floors of buildings, then I can make some bricks with clay and dry grass to fill out the rest." He said while nodding at his own words.
"I see, so how am I gonna break these trees down, and where do you want them?" I asked while looking over at the treeline and considering what trees to take down.
Woody hummed thoughtfully at that. "Well you can put the wood behind the longhouse, that's where we have been putting it up till now." He mentioned before looking back up at me. "If you could break down four trees into manageable logs for firewood, eight trees into planks, and the remaining eight trees into squared posts for the frames." He listed out before snapping his fingers as he considered something else. "If it's not too much trouble, could you also pile up all the tree branches next to the wood, and as for the bark..." He trailed off, in the middle of biting down on another chip from his pocket, he pulled it away before clearing his throat. "Could you set up the bark near the fireplace, Virtisa has been asking for some to make some kind of medicine and other stuff... Apparently, it's got some sort of stuff and such to make lots of things and a few medicines." He explained before shrugging as he finally popped the piece of bark he had in his hand and chewed. "I just think it tastes good." He mused with a smile.
I chuckled a little bit at his last comment before rubbing the back of my head and looking back to the tree line. "Sure, I'll see what I can do." With that, I step away towards the treeline, Woody looking to the others and getting back to processing the current log they were working on. It doesn't take long to go around and gather all the trees since I'm able to take everything from the leave to the roots all at once. The only thing I had to actually take my time on was making sure the trees I collected were unoccupied and then taking a moment to fill the new hole with dirt so nobody fell in and got hurt.
It was actually on my way back when I encountered Sylvia, who smiled as she spotted me and made her way over. "I heard from Woody you were helping gather trees for us, could you make sure some of that bark comes my way? I need it if I want to start making the leather for your equipment." She explained as she walked with me.
"Of course, do you think you'll have it ready anytime soon?" I ask as we start heading back to the clearing around the longhouse. Though at that, I could sense some kind of unease coming from Sylvia as she slowed her pace to stare at me.
"How... How soon are you thinking?" She asked before picking up the pace to walk by my side again.
I look over at her and offer a shrug. "Sometime next week, once I have some weapons and clothes, I'll start walking toward the Hegemony and..." But before I could continue, Sylvia started to chuckle before full-on belly laughing at me as she wiped at some non-existent tears, looking over at me and laughing some more as she was soon doubled over at my expense. To say I was a little annoyed would be accurate, but moreover, I was just confused by her reaction.
It took almost a full minute before she managed to get ahold of herself, even then she was still snickering as she placed a hand over her mouth before speaking up. "You're such a silly human... I don't know how they did things in your world, but proper leather for armor takes at least two months to be armor grade, and that's not even considering all the other prep work to get it done." She was panting, taking slow breaths as she did her best to compose herself, though she still turned red from the strain of not laughing at me each time she looked back up at me, having to physically place her hand over her mouth to do so. "Forget about the leather, I'll make you some hide boots and gloves and get with Miriam to see what we can do for some quick and sturdy armor, just leave it to me Vitmori." She mused, smirking at my expense as she smacked my lower back a couple of times before walking off.
Well... There goes my self esteem. I suppose the only experience I have is the stuff I scavenged that was already put together, or from armorers who already had a supply of treated leather ready to be committed to make armor per request. To get my mind off that blunder, I set to work sorting out the wood into the requests Woody made for me. I end up sitting cross legged in the dirt and closing my eyes in order to focus on the details of the work; I can feel the mana be expended, and while it does consume more mana than when I usually interact with things in the vacuum of my storage, and I can't help but be pleasantly surprised that I'm even able to do this much in this avatar; that is being able to visualize my storage space in the same abstract nature I used to before I had a body.
Before long, all the wood has been sorted out in neat piles behind the longhouse and I go over by the outdoor fireplace to find Virtisa getting a massive pot of water to boil over an open flane, the herbalist lizardkin flashing a fanged smile at me as she pokes at the fire with a stick, Sekha mrowling politely as she sits besides Virtisa, but doesn't move from her place as she watched intently. "Hello Vitmori, I take it that you have the bark Woody asked you to collect for me?" She asked, appearing to be content with Sekha sitting in her lap, which was a huge improvent from when I last saw her hurriedly rushing out of my medbay after seeing what I had done to Dread, her head full of anxiety and doubts.
"Yeah, where should I leave them, there's a lot ya know." I mentioned as I make my way closer, reaching out and gently doting on Sekha by scritching her throat before stepping away to give Virtisa her space.
I could see her eyes wander as she looked around before pointing at a spot a couple feet away from her. "If you could leave them there, that would be great, thanks." She said as she brought her hand back and down on Sekha's back as she stroked the blue cub's fur.
I can't help but feel she's underestimating just how much tree bark I collected, in the end I settle with just dropping off a good thirty pounds of bark, and with that I could sense that Virtisa wasn't expecting nearly that much. "Perfect, I'll get to work refining all of this." She said pleasantly, she didn't visibly betray her surprise though, instead bobbing her head as she went back to prodding the flames underneath the pot.
Before I could get into anything else, Reyvyre came into the clearing and waved me over, her hands and knees covered in dirt. Making my way over, I look her up and down before quirking a brow with curiosity. "I see you've been playing around in the dirt." I mused kindly.
Reyvyre, for her part, looks confused for more than a few seconds before remembering something and looking at herself. She chuckled a bit as she scratched the back of her neck. "Yeah about that... Well it's better if I just show you." She said with a small smile before leading me out of the clearing. We walk for a few minutes before coming across a smaller clearing, the smell of fresh cut grass in the air as I see the results of Reyvyre's efforts. In the middle of the clearing was a magic circle with a variety of runes strewn all over the place, while I can read a few of the things here and there, I'm not too sure about the specifics, though I sense Reyvyre is more than ready to explain everything in just a moment as she beckoned me to come to the middle of the circle. "Kneel down here, we're gonna check your affinities." She mentioned, moving to get out of the circle while stepping carefully between the lines and runes.
Watching how she walked, I made sure to follow her example, crossing into the magic circle as I knelt down in the middle. "My affinities?" I parrot curiously. I mean I knew I had three aspects, but I don't know if it's the same thing she's talking about.
"Yeah, we're gonna see what magics you have the greatest connection to, the base roots of which are the primal elements found in the world. Things like fire, water, earth, and air among other things." She explained eagerly as she pointed to the four big circles within the magic circle before gesturing to the numerous smaller circles. "Beyond those, there are other magics which are more esoteric beyond the base elements. From there I can see how to best guide and instruct you on the branches of magics that come easiest for you." She said as she sat down cross legged in the grass. "Go on, reach out and run your mana through the magical circle, I'll make sure everything stays stable and review the results." She mentioned, eager anticipation just radiating from her like a ball of light. I look around myself for another moment before following her instructions, closing my eyes as I reach out with my mana. I can feel things happening around me, my mana pulsing and resonating as I meet Reyvyre's mana in the magical circle. "Wow..." Is all she says as I go to open my eyes.
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2023.06.05 09:15 Grufflock Eavy Metal Galleries Issue 93

https://www.thefluffenhammer.com/articles/eavymetalweekly34
This foray into the world of #WhiteDwarf and #EavyMetal Painting comes from issue 93, as we continue the basics of painting and modelling

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2023.06.05 07:43 Polaris328 Queen and Prince All Your Heart

The Northstar, Titan's Orbit
Polaris, in the middle of a much-needed nap at his desk, looked up in a daze as his computer beeped, alerting him of an incoming call. He shook himself awake before answering. "Hello?" he said groggily.
"Hey, Old Light. Sounds like I woke you up," Crow's voice replied Polaris could practically hear his protege's smirk. "Everything alright?"
"Just peachy." Polaris rubbed his eyes. "What's up, Crow?"
"Not much. I was at the Farm this morning and Queen Mara asked for you. I've been trying to reach you all day."
"Yeah, I've been, uh..." Polaris recalled everything he'd done in the past twelve hours: sleeping, eating ice cream, crying, trying to get some overdue mission reports done, then getting bored and sleeping again. "Very busy."
Crow chuckled. "I'm sure. Well, whenever you're free, drop by the Farm. Mara's waiting."
"I'll be right there. Seeya around, kiddo." Polaris ended the call and yawned loudly before getting up and changing into his typically pristine armor, though it found itself in a sorry state tonight. He pushed the button on his intercom and relayed his instructions to the vessel's pilot: "Set a course for the EDZ on Earth. Got business at the Farm."
"Expecting a fight?" Daedalus asked, orbiting his Guardian curiously. "Farm's pretty safe."
"No, but can't be too careful with Mara. She might have some kind of special assignment for me or something. There's always another one, no matter how many I have stacked up," Polaris grumbled, adjusting his cloak as the Northstar descended toward the Farm. It was as quiet as it had been ever since the team's mission of retribution against the Shadow Legion following Amanda Holliday's death. Some civilians of various species going about their business here and there, but no notable operations anymore.
Queen Mara Sov, sitting alone aside from one horse in the Farm's stables, glanced skyward as she heard the approaching roar of the Northstar's engines. Before long, Polaris made his way to her location. "It's been some time, Young Wolf," she said, stroking the horse's mane.
Polaris's face immediately scrunched up. "Still hate that name. I see you've met Gorilla."
Mara frowned. "...Gorilla?"
"The horse. His name's Gorilla. He's a hero, y'know."
"What exactly did... Gorilla do that was so heroic?"
Polaris chuckled. "Back in the Red War, during the mission to retake the Last City, the assault teams had to approach the City in a way that the Cabal wouldn't notice. So their ships dropped them out near Twilight Gap, and they made the rest of the journey on foot. But to make sure everything was clear along the way, they had a trio of scouts go ahead on horseback. Gorilla was one of those horses- along with his brothers, Elmer and Krazy, may they rest in peace. Without him, the assault team may have been ambushed along the walk to the City by Cabal forces. But thankfully Gorilla and his brothers were there to help." He walked over to Gorilla and scratched behind his ear. "He's been living here ever since."
"And what of his brothers? Elmer and Crazy?" Mara asked. "From what you've said, I assume they are dead."
"Krazy. With a K. But yeah. Krazy was killed by a Cabal sniper near the City's outer walls. He and his rider happened to be spotted while they were scouting ahead, and, well... a horse is a bigger target than a Guardian. As for Elmer, he was caught in an explosion during the battle. He survived it, but his injuries were severe enough that he had to be put to sleep, rather than letting him suffer for his natural lifespan. So Gorilla's the only one left. But he's been handling it well. Haven't you, boy?" Polaris smiled up at the horse, who gave a happy neigh in response. "So. What did you need? Crow said you wanted to talk to me."
Mara nodded, sitting down on a wooden bench. "I did. But I do not have a mission for you if that is what you expected."
Polaris took a seat next to the Queen. "Then what's up?"
"I simply wished to speak with you."
Polaris narrowed his eyes. "To what end? You don't do anything without a purpose."
Mara looked away from the Guardian. "Amanda Holliday's death has weighed heavy on all who knew her. As I said then, I have lived for eons. I have seen countless deaths. They still hurt, but it has become... easier for me, than for most. But it will never be easier to stomach how it affects those I care for."
Polaris swallowed a retort that probably wouldn't have gone over well, instead choosing to stare at the stable floor.
"That includes you, Polaris." Mara looked back at him. "So, if you insist that I must have a purpose, then my only purpose is this: I am concerned for you. Your shoulders have borne more weight than any of your peers in much less time than most. I can see it in your face- you are beyond exhausted. I know you do not see me as a friend, but if you have anything you wish to speak of, I will be here to listen."
Polaris covered his face with his hands for a brief moment. "Where do I even start?" He met Mara's eyes.
"Wherever you wish." Mara reached over and took hold of Polaris's hand. "I was speaking with Elisabeth Bray once when she said something similar to me. Then she remembered something. A wise Hunter once told her, 'The beginning is usually a pretty good place.'"
Polaris's slack fingers closed around Mara's hand as a hint of a smile crept onto his lips. He shifted to be a little closer to her. "Using my own words against me. Devious, Your Grace. Very devious. Well. As you might remember, my friend Hecate went Dark a while back. She was a fugitive for a long time. Then, right after the Traveler ascended, she came to find me. She told me she wanted to come back to the City. Rejoin the Vanguard. I was all for it. She's doing great, but I can see the pain in her eyes whenever I see her. And I just don't know how to help. On top of that, Aunor and I... we're done. Again. For good this time."
"How did it happen?" Mara asked. "Another fight?"
"No. It was much more peaceful. We've barely seen each other recently. Been so busy with our own work that we... don't have time for each other anymore. But right before Titan reappeared, she and I finally got to be with each other again. First time we've been face to face in months. In the morning, she said we needed to talk. She basically told me we were too big of a distraction for each other. Even when we're apart, if we're involved with each other, we'd only be dividing our focus away from... 'what really matters,' in her words. Can't say I'm surprised- she's always put duty first- but to hear it spelled out like that didn't feel amazing. But I gotta admit... she's got a point."
Mara nodded slowly. "People like ourselves... we must always put the mission before our personal desires." She watched as Polaris's already somber expression saddened. "But that does not mean we must stifle our love for those around us. Amanda knew this, and she loved with all her heart."
"Cayde knew it too. But I guess it's a lesson some of us still have to learn, huh?" Polaris looked back at the Queen with a small smirk. "Not naming names, though."
A brief chuckle escaped from Mara before she caught herself. "Yes. I suppose we do. Although before we can express our love to those around us, perhaps we must first embrace and express our love for ourselves."
"It's always funny hearing you talk like that."
"What do you mean?"
"Like you don't want to be understood. And you want whoever you're talking with to understand that they don't understand." Polaris froze, panic setting in as he saw something change in Mara's expression. "Shit. I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"
"No. It's fine, Polaris." Mara chuckled again, more openly this time. "The first Queen's Wrath, Sjur Eido, once said nearly the exact same thing to me. You do remind me of her sometimes, though she was perhaps more... straightforward. There were fewer dimensions to her than yourself, though at your core, you're similar to her." She stared into Polaris's eyes. Today, they were electric blue, as bright and as powerful as a bolt of Arc lightning.
"How so?" the Hunter asked.
"You and Sjur are endlessly passionate. Powerful. Charming. Problem solvers, though in different ways. Always determined to follow your chosen path, no matter what might draw you away from it. In a sea of the exceptional, you both stand above your peers."
Polaris was suddenly very aware of the fact that Mara still hadn't let go of his hand, even though his own had gone lax a few moments ago- and that her tone had changed a little. And had she gotten closer? Or had he shifted closer to her? He couldn't be quite sure. "High, uh... high praise from you, Your Grace."
Mara paused before letting go of Polaris's hand and standing up. "And I mean every word. But... I suppose that is all I wished to say to you. You are free to go."
Polaris also stood. "Yeah. I'll do that. Got some things to do. But... thanks, Mara. And the same offer you extended to me goes back to you. Anything you need to talk about, I'll be here." He could practically feel that Mara wanted to say more, and so did he, but now was not the time. And this was certainly not the place. "Well. Uh. Oh, screw it." He pulled Mara into a tight hug.
Mara's eyes widened for a moment as she was taken aback by the gesture, but she instinctively returned it, closing her eyes.
"You said earlier that you didn't think I saw you as a friend. You were wrong. You are my friend, Mara. One of my best."
Mara felt Polaris's breathing synchronize with her own. The Prince of the Sky and the Queen of the Awoken silently stood in each other's embrace for a moment before she spoke again. "You must never forget to love with all your heart, Polaris. As must I. We do not know who will walk away from this battle with us and who will be lost along the way."
"I promise." Polaris stepped away from Mara. "See you around, my lady." He bowed to the Queen, only partially in a joking manner, then transmatted back to his Ketch.
Mara took a deep breath before looking back at Gorilla, who was staring at her. "What?" she bluntly asked the horse. Then she noticed it seemed to be looking just over her shoulder instead of directly at her. She turned just in time to see Crow drop his invisibility.
The young Hunter had an amused smirk on his face. "Haven't seen you like that since... well, you know. Are you thinking of...?"
Mara put a hand on her hip. "It is as I said. The mission, the plan... ending the Witness comes first. Why were you spying on us?"
"Couldn't help myself." Crow shrugged. "Truth be told, I've been concerned about him too. I was worried that you'd say or do something, or send him on some exhausting mission that would push him past the breaking point... but I was pleasantly surprised. I think talking to you did him some good. He seemed a little... I don't know. Lighter, when he left."
"If I have been able to provide some relief to him, then I am satisfied. Even if it is only a little. Don't you have work to be doing?"
"Heh. Suppose I do. And so do you. Bye, Mara." Crow nodded to his sister as he transmatted away.
"Goodbye, Crow." Mara walked out of the stable, breathing in the cool midnight air. She felt a little lighter as well.
hi. sorry for disappearing (again). i, uh... i don't really know if i want to go anywhere with this particular relationship. i like the concept, but pursuing it actively would probably interfere with canon too much. we'll see, though. anyway. got a little bit depressing tonight, which might reflect my life in general (my stories often do). but there's a little glimmer of hope in there too. i'm not super proud of this particular entry, but it will have to do. hope you enjoyed
~ P.

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2023.06.05 07:22 shadesofgrae2 SELL Bite Beauty, Lancôme, L’Oréal, Nars, Shiseido

$10 Tracked postage for packages less than 500g.
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2023.06.05 07:07 girl_from_the_crypt Stuck on earth and looking for a job: There's more to the waitresses at my favorite diner than I thought

Something happened tonight. Something always seems to be happening these days, but this time, it was particularly confusing.
Some days don't even feel real anymore.
After my last post, I did as my savior human had advised me. I called Mary Markov and relayed to her what Jewel had told me. She promised to send agents to the warehouse right away, and late that same night, she reached out to me once again with news of an arrest having been made. Despite this small success, we both knew that this meant outright war. The Collective would know who had given them away, and the possibility of me joining their ranks peacefully would be off the table. The question remaining was when they would make good on their threat. Nettie Peterson's house is being guarded by covert Agency personnel, and mine and Eli's apartments are under watch, too. I'm glad Mary Markov is doing what she can to protect them, but I never doubted that complications would arise eventually.
Just not quite so soon.
The day started off fine. My best friend, still being relatively used to having agents around, doesn't seem to mind the aforementioned changes. The van inconspicuously parked outside her house didn't bother her in the least as she went about her morning routine. I helped her throw together something nourishing for breakfast, then watched her doing her makeup. She likes to keep her lips glossy and often applies lime green eyeshadow paired with a pear-colored line and, on special days, the occasional rhinestone. She looks like a garden fairy. When I told her that today, she treated me to a bright smile and a pat on the cheek.
She went off to look after her larvae, leaving me to roam her house alone. I spent some time inspecting the many drawings she keeps framed on the high wall in the living room. She always brings new ones home from work—gifts from the kindergarteners. They're not very artistically skilled, but they do produce interesting work. Nettie hangs them all up on the special wall, even the really bad ones. I watched TV for a couple hours, then read until Nettie came home.
It was getting dark out when she realized she needed tampons. She said she could get by on what she had until the morning, but no longer. I told her to stay put and that I'd run and get some for her, which is why I went on that fateful evening walk. I gave a quick nod to the agent leaning against the van outside as I started heading down the street, backpack slung over my shoulder. I made it to the convenience store five minutes before closing time, giving the annoyed cashier an apologetic look as she rang me up. Outside, the nightly blackness had settled over the rooftops, and I took in a deep breath, letting the fresh air flood my body.
All was well as I began to march back in the direction of Nettie's home. Until I heard a motorcycle revving.
…Jewel?
I instantly froze up. There was no one immediately in sight. I tried to soothe my fevered mind. There was no reason to be so on edge. A lot of town residents owned motorcycles, or at least I assumed they did. This reaction was a testament to my own waning sanity, no doubt. I shuddered, making an effort to shake the thought. There was a nervous tension in my step as I continued on my way. The engine noises faded off into the distance after a while, and I concluded that I was indeed becoming a bit paranoid.
Step by step, I carried myself towards my goal. Nettie Peterson's street wasn't anywhere in sight yet, but I would probably be at her door in around ten minutes tops. I had walked the distance between her house and the store often enough to estimate. I considered putting my earbuds in and listening to some music as a distraction, but I was afraid of what I might end up missing if I took away my sense of hearing. I began to chew on the inside of my cheek.
There was not a soul out except for me. This wasn't uncommon considering the size of our town, but given the circumstances, it still served to elevate my heart rate. I repeatedly tried and failed to calm myself. Eventually, I couldn't help it anymore. I took off running. And then it happened—someone stepped out from a sidestreet right ahead of me and we collided. Large hands flew to my shoulders, long fingers harshly digging into them. I didn't need to look up at the other person to recognize them. I sensed the same musky smell that had lingered around my room for hours after their last visit; warm, sweet and impossible to ignore. I could suddenly hear every single beat of my heart reverberating between my ears. Dread seemed to dribble down my bone-dry throat, pooling in my stomach like cold water.
I slowly lifted my head, knowing exactly who was about to stare back at me.
Jewel's eyes were incredibly wide. Their brows were trembling in manic, barely restrained fury, their lower lip quivered and, to my complete bewilderment, tears were freely rolling down their cheeks. They solidified the moment the skin contact was lost, turning into shimmering stones of green, blue and violet. I reached out and caught one before it could hit the ground. It was bright pink, and I found myself captivated by its beauty.
"So, can I… keep this?" I asked, tilting my head at the cultist.
Their chest was rising and falling heavily, and I shrank back a little when I took note of their nostrils flaring. "You are so dead," they uttered in a low, husky growl.
"I take it you got news of the Agency's involvement?"
Jewel once more closed the distance between us. They leaned down, their gemstone tears bouncing off my chest as they fell. "You spiteful little bitch. You'd rather try to ruin a good cause than forgive me and work together?"
"You can't be this delusional."
"Don't tell me what I can and cannot do!" they snapped, their voice rising to an eerily high pitch. They paused, looking briefly confused by what they'd said before the wrathful expression twisted their features again.
"What now? Are you seriously going to attack me out in the open like this?"
"Oh." Jewel drew themself up, squaring their muscled shoulders. "Oh, I'll manage."
Their outline before me started to blur, becoming fuzzy and indistinct. I blinked, then reached up to rub my eyes. They weren't becoming any clearer, though. Frowning, I took several steps back, squinting at the spot where the cultist had just been standing. The cultist was quickly turning into a faint, paling swirl of colors, losing shape before at last disappearing completely.
I was speechless, my pulse racing as beads of sweat ran down the side of my face. I couldn't believe it. Had all of this been some sort of hallucination? I raised a hand to my feverishly hot forehead. I was losing my mind. That had to be it. My gaze dropped to the gray asphalt and my breath caught in my throat when I spotted the colorful stones lying at my feet. Fuck.
A soft laugh rang out beside my ear, a draft of moist, warm air grazing my cheek.
I instinctively swung at the emptiness beside me, my clenched fist connecting with nothing. No.
"Come back here," I whined, flinching at the unmasked fear in my own voice. A sharp pain flared up in my ankle as my feet were swiped out from under me. I let out a squeak as I fell onto my open palms, managing to shield my head from the impact just in time. The rough ground scraped my hands and knees as I hurriedly pushed myself up, a few stray pebbles drawing blood. Despite my panic, my mind was clear enough to understand that I was in a precarious position. I couldn't just whip out my tentacles—not here where anyone could see me. It would for sure result in hysteria. People could start straight-up shooting at me. I'd end up looking like a monstrosity on a rampage, especially with Jewel having gone invisible. As it were, I only had one option, and that was to run.
I didn't waste another second. There was no way I was leading this murder cultist back to Nettie, but I had to find somewhere with other people, anywhere…
Aimlessly charging ahead, I tried to bring more distance between myself and the disembodied footsteps ringing out from behind me. Before long however, it was becoming hard to tell how far away they truly were. The sound seemed to flit from side to side, reaching my ears from constantly changing directions. The asshole was messing with my head.
Soon enough, my lungs were on fire. My sides were stinging; breathing became harder. I inwardly cursed my useless short legs. Still, I didn't slow down; I didn't dare to. I was growing increasingly desperate. Where was I supposed to go? I couldn't think of any places still open. And then, cutting through the darkness, a flickering neon sign offered the answer to all of my questions. Tom's Diner. With hope renewing my spirits, I picked up my pace once more. Rhonda was just in the process of moving the big menu sign inside for the night. I came to a skittering halt mere inches in front of her, helplessly grabbing onto her apron before she could close the door behind her.
She spun around to face me with knotted brows. "Evangeline?"
"Help me," I wheezed. "Let me in, quick!"
Rhonda, though still visibly perplexed, sprang into action, dragging me inside along with her. I slammed the door shut, throwing my entire weight against it. An unseen force clashed against it from outside, making the entire storefront shudder. The waitress nearly dropped her sign. "What in the—"
"They're after me," I choked out. "You can't see them, but they're right outside!"
"Oh." Her expression cleared up. "Say no more, say no more." She reached into her apron pocket, rummaging around while mumbling to herself. "I'm picking up what you're putting down…" She produced a bright red marker. "Allow me." Swiftly stepping up to me, she raised the felt tip to my forehead, proceeding to draw something onto my skin with smooth, efficient accuracy. An incoherent whisper slipped from her lips, words in a language I had never heard before. Finally, she pulled back. "Turn around, try if you can see them now. The door locks automatically, by the way."
I hesitantly shifted my weight back onto my feet, releasing the door and turning to look out into the night. I let out a gasp, staggering back when I found the contorted visage of the cultist pressed up against the glass. Jewel's eyes were still rimmed with shimmering tears, their mouth twisted in a grimace of murderous rage. They frowned in confusion when they realized that my gaze was once more trained on them. It didn't take long until they started pounding on the windowpane again.
"Hey! You stop that," Rhonda shouted, stabbing a finger in their direction. "I just cleaned that today! Oh hell… Hailey!" she called over her shoulder. "We have a problem; come help."
Another waitress came rushing out of the back room. Glancing between us and the pacing cultist outside had her huff out a sigh. "I see," she said icily. Determinedly striding towards the door, she lifted her voice, beginning to recite a verse or rhyme of some sort. It all sounded like gibberish to me. My head was spinning, my mind running wild, unable to keep track of what was happening around me. My skull suddenly felt prickly from the inside, my whole body seemingly turning weightless. My vision fell away as my eyes rolled back and my knees gave out from beneath me. I had lost consciousness before I hit the floor.
I don't believe I was out for very long, despite my exhausted body embracing the cold slumber. A voice tugged on the edge of my hearing, gently guiding me towards wakefulness. I had been moved onto a slightly softer, more comfortable surface. I arduously craned my neck up to overlook my surroundings. I was lying on one of the padded benches next to the stationary tables. Crouching beneath it in order to sit close to me was a very familiar figure.
"Hey, Sunshine." Frankie Preston straightened up as far as he could without hitting his head. "Sorry I wasn't there to catch you when you fainted. Too bad. It could have been our movie-moment."
I smiled at him. Then I jolted upright, nearly kicking Frankie under the table as I planted my feet on the floor to train my eyes on Rhonda. She was leaning against the partition wall of the booth, typing away on her phone. "You," I uttered. "You and that other lady did some kind of… witchcraft-thing."
She glanced up briefly. "Oh. That was nothing, really. Forget about it."
Fran poked his head out from between my legs. "What's this about witchcraft?"
Rhonda shrugged. "Hailey and I just performed some basic spells to get rid of your little wife's stalker."
"Could you please not—nevermind that; what are you even talking about?" Fran's voice was dripping with bewilderment.
The older woman raised a brow at him. "Honey, we're… we're witches. You did know that, right?"
Silence.
"Right?" Rhonda repeated, once again not receiving a response.
"I don't think he did," I supplied helpfully.
"You're kidding me." Rhonda stared at the blonde with her mouth agape. "How could you not have known? You lived with us for almost two years!"
He still gave no answer.
"Honey, you saw everything! You saw my herbs…" Her voice faltered in disbelief. "And the ceremonial daggers… The charms around the doors!"
He shrugged.
"You played with Mae-Lynn's casting crystals for a whole afternoon? You were in the room when Paloma made her sacrifice for Loki's favor? You literally watched all six of us at our bonfire dance during the blood moon!"
"I thought that was just another crunchy mom thing."
"Crunchy mom thing?" she echoed, her chest rising at the affront. Jabbing a finger at my forehead, she added, "And how would you have accounted for that?"
"That little drawing? I thought Eva had gotten herself tattooed." Frankie glanced between Rhonda and me in confusion.
"It's a magic symbol, for crying out loud; it's a protection against forces messing with her perception!" the waitress explained in audible exasperation. "And who would get their forehead inked?"
"Eva might. You gotta admit she has peculiar fashion tastes," Frankie argued.
I couldn't help but chime in. "Why do people keep saying that?"
Rhonda threw her hands up in defeat.
I cleared my throat. "You're saying that all the ladies working here have supernatural abilities?"
"Like I just told you." She rubbed her temples with both hands. "And I'm sorry you fainted. It had to do with Hailey—her magic is great for defending against dark influences. The spell she cast was to scare off your attacker, but it seems to have affected you, too."
"I don't consider myself a dark influence."
"Well, you are an interdimensional being," Rhonda replied. "Not normally mankind's best friend. But I know you're a good kid. Don't worry."
"Thank you very much for helping me," I said softly, staring at my hands as I folded them in my lap. "I apologize for the inconvenience."
"It's cool."
"So, the six of you all together are probably really powerful?" I inquired, an idea faintly taking shape in my mind.
"You could say that," Rhonda answered, not without a hint of pride.
"Is there any way I could get your input on a problem I've been having?"
"I suppose," she said slowly. "We'll hear you out, sure, but that's about all the promises I'll make for now, okay?"
"Yes, perfect."
"Alright. I'll talk to the girls and we'll be in touch." She zipped up her jacket, shoving her phone into her pocket. "Goodnight, you two."
With that, she left us sitting in the empty diner. Frankie still looked rather puzzled. Shaking his head, he turned to give me a droll smile. "How embarrassing. I normally pride myself on being perceptive. People are strange though, aren't they?" He sat down beside me on the bench, shuffling closer. "You ran into trouble again? With the cultist?"
I didn't really want to relay the entirety of what I'd learned from Jewel to him—somehow, I didn't think Frankie would be opposed to someone bringing by the end of the world. It would be best to keep that particular piece of information stored away for a while longer. Instead, I asked a completely different, if not wholly unrelated question. "The other day, you told me about feeling destructive and grimy. Where is that coming from?"
"Sunshine, I know I've danced around this for long enough. I can tell you, but you look miserable right now. I'd much rather have you in better spirits first." He placed a tentative hand on my back. "Anything I can do to cheer you up?"
I started chewing on my lower lip, not meeting his gaze.
"You're thinking about kissing me again, aren't you?" Frankie asked, having apparently learned how to read minds.
"We don't have to. I do not care."
"That nearly crossed the line between accommodating and insulting. Look, I want to. You just caught me off guard the last time." He pulled a wet string from his chewing gum. I waited in silence for him to continue. "I'm honestly surprised you're still up to it. I know I'm a piece of shit."
"You're not—"
"I am. And what's more, you should know that kissing is as far as things are gonna get between us. I don't do the sex-thing. That's nothing to do with how much I like you or anything. I just don't do that." He had removed his gum from his mouth completely, instead fumbling around with it like play doh. "If that cancels out the whole liking-me-extravaganza, then it's best we cleared that up beforehand." He turned to face me. "What's that look for?"
I was beaming at him with more conviction that I had found the most perfect being than ever. "This works out beautifully," I told him.
"Are you sure? You're not just saying this?"
"If you don't take my word for it, I wouldn't know how else to prove it."
"I believe you! I'm glad, I really am, I'm just kinda stunned." He straightened up. "I want to kiss you even more now."
A quiet squeak came from somewhere in my throat. "I can hear my pulse," I remarked.
"Yeah, me too." He grinned, propping his chin in his palm. "Excited?"
"You know that." Feeling I had to share more, I added, "This is the first time for me. That doesn't change anything, does it?"
Fran's brows rose a great deal. "Huh."
"Is that bad?"
"No! But seriously, is this gonna be your first kiss?" He gestured at our surroundings. "A dingy little diner after hours? Not very romantic, is it?"
"That's fine," I assured him.
"Nope. We can do better." He got off the bench, drawing himself up to his full height (which wasn't very impressive either). "It doesn't have to be a big deal, but it should be nice. You're getting a good first kiss. I'll think of something. Don't worry, I won't go over the top."
I couldn't help but smile at that. Letting him pull me to my feet, I briefly went in for a hug. I nearly jumped when he turned his head and pressed his lips to my cheek. "That doesn't count." He held onto my hand as he let go. "So… how would you feel about hypothetically burning a building together?"
X
1
2: deadbeat roommate
3: creepy crush
4: relocation
5: beach concert
6: First date
7: Temp work
8: roommate talk
9: a dismal worldview
10: warehouse
11: staircase
12: explanation
13: hurt
14: hospital
15: ocean
16: diner
17: government work
18: something in the caves
19: shopping cart
20: olms and Jewels
21: long hair
22: recruitment

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2023.06.05 05:49 JLGoodwin1990 We broke into the Egyptian Theatre in Coos Bay to go ghost hunting. I wish we never had.

“I just had an idea pop into my head about something to do this coming weekend, and I wanted to bounce it off you two before it slips my mind” My friend Natasha said those words as the three of us sat on my couch one afternoon. I found myself sitting up slightly. Normally, Natasha was the last of our group to suggest things to do, letting Vinny, the third member of our group, or I come up with the plans to keep our free time occupied. The fact she was about to suggest something intrigued me. “What have you got in mind?” I asked her. A smile played over her face as her brown eyes seemed to flash. “How about a little ghost hunting?”
I felt Vinny sit straight up beside me. She had clearly grabbed both our attention now. The three of us were what you might call amateur ghost hunters, using very basic items we bought offline to visit some of the spookier places in the area and posting our adventures on YouTube, sort of like a crappier version of Ghost Adventures. “Now that’s one hell of a good idea” Vinny said, before a puzzled expression spread over his face. “But, I mean, where? We’ve already done most of the places around town. The Tioga building won’t let us in after that…well, what that one resident claims we stirred up in the old ballroom, and I’m not about to make the hours long drive to the Wolf Creek Inn” Natasha’s smile grew wider. “No, we don’t have to even go out of town for this one” she said, her voice dropping low, “What I’m suggesting, is we check out…” her voice trailed off, letting the suspense grow for a few seconds before finishing, “The Egyptian Theatre”
Instantly, Vinny let out a harsh bark of laughter. “HA! Now that’s a good one. You know damn good and well that the society that runs the theater won’t allow us in after hours to ghost hunt. As far as I know, they’ve never allowed any paranormal teams into the place” He pulled a face. “So, how exactly do you propose we get in there? You flutter your eyelashes for the night janitor and use your feminine charms to get us in?” Natasha still grinned, but rolled her eyes at our friend’s quip. “No, actually, I was thinking about using my lock picking skills to get us in” she declared. It was my turn to give her an incredulous look. “You’re joking, right?” I asked. She shook her head. “Nope, I’m dead serious” I let out an incredulous, almost baffled snort of laughter and pulled my glasses off my face, rubbing my eyes.
The country, and, to a large extent, the entire world, became gripped in an interest, sometimes bordering on obsession with all things Egyptian when King Tut’s tomb was discovered over a century ago. Many things came out of this, including the classic 1932 monster movie The Mummy. But, one thing that also came of this fever gripping the country was a desire to build many Egyptian style buildings. And one of the buildings which took this design and ran with it, were the movie theatres. A decade after the legendary discovery, over a hundred theatres had gone up all around the country, their interiors clad with fake temple columns, paintings of sphinxes and Egyptian gods such as Anubis decorating the walls, and hieroglyphs adorning the archways. People flocked in droves to them, both to watch movies, and live performances. But, like all trends, eventually, the interest began to wane, and as the late 20th Century approached, many began to shut down and be either remodeled, or straight up demolished. Today, there’s only between five and eight Egyptian style theatres left in the entire country.
And one just so happens to be right in the town I live in.
When I moved to Coos Bay, Oregon nine years ago, I immediately fell in love with the place. Even though it’s the largest coastal town on the Oregon coast, it’s a place which is more or less perpetually frozen in time, still looking pretty much as it did between thirty and seventy years ago. And, as someone who is not exactly into the modern world, it made a perfect place for me to live and escape away from the 21st Century. I began exploring right away, driving every street of it and the town neighboring it, North Bend, along with walking every alley and back road I could to learn the layout. That’s how I learned about the supernatural element to the town.
There are many places in town which people claim supernatural occurrences take place. From the remains of the old logging buildings on the estuary, to the old Tioga Hotel which has been remodeled into apartments, there is no shortage of ghostly tales. There was even the old McCauley Hospital, which had once been the focal point of the town’s annual ghost walks until it was demolished in 2018. As a side note, I heard a rumor that a couple people broke into that place right before it got torn down. Something sure spooked them, because a friend of mine on the police force told me they gave him a fright, bursting in the night before Easter and rambling about something. I always wondered what they saw in there.
But, for me, the place in town I always loved the most, and enjoyed the most hearing about the ghostly accounts told, was the Egyptian Theatre.
Originally built as a garage in 1922, it was renovated by a man named Charles Noble into a movie theatre in 1925, where it drew in droves of people from around the area to watch films, and enjoy live vaudeville performances. It continued to operate almost to the end of the 20th Century, when other theatres began to attract younger moviegoers, and for a while, it almost seemed as though the historic building might even be closed for good and gutted. But, thanks to the efforts of local preservation societies, it was saved, and now operates as a theatre once again. They mostly play only older movies, along with live performances.
And, of course, it draws curious people for the paranormal rumors surrounding it.
For years, people have reported strange occurrences happening inside the building, both when it’s open, and after hours. Patrons and employees alike have spoken about a pervasive feeling of being watched inside the building, but finding no one there when the place was searched. There have been reports of being touched by invisible hands, a few even pushed slightly. Beyond physical interaction, employees have reported the sounds of old film projectors playing and unseen audiences laughing after hours, along with the eerie playing of the theatre’s Wurlitzer pipe organ, along with a host of other occurrences. No ghost hunting team has ever gone in to try and document these events. And to Natasha, that was too good of an opportunity to pass up. Legal, or not.
“Are you freaking nuts?!” Vinny exclaimed, “Do you have any idea how much trouble we’d be in if we got caught breaking and entering? The cops around here are already a bit twitchy with the druggies and the homeless. You wanna give them a reason to throw us into jail alongside them?” Natasha held up a finger, flipping her black hair over her shoulder. “They won’t find out, because I have not one, but two aces in the hole here. The first is that thanks to being friends with Scott, I know the nighttime police sweeps, where they’re going to be and everything. There’ll be an hour long window where they’re not anywhere near the alley where the back door to the theatre is. We can get in and out with no threat of being spotted at all. And the second is, did you forget I’m dating Dylan now?” The realization washed over me like a wave; she had started dating the man who helped the preservation society run the theatre a month or so ago. Damn, she’s been planning this one for a while, I thought.
Vinny had a thoughtful look on his face, his green eyes darting around rapidly, but not seeing. “Hmm” he muttered, then looked at Natasha. “And you’re sure that there’s no chance of us getting caught?” he asked slowly. “Absolutely none” she said, then looked at both of us. “So, how about it?” For a few moments, there was silence, and then Vinny let out a chuckle. “What the hell, why not? The most exciting thing we’ve done the last few weeks is go down to the farmer’s market. This could shake things up a bit” I suddenly became aware that the two of them were looking at me, waiting for me to make my decision. I was always the most sensible of the three of us, doing all I could to keep us out of trouble with others as well as the law. But, I always had one nasty Achilles Heel ever since I had been a child, and that was peer pressure. So, despite the overwhelming feeling that I should tell them no, that I should say we should just find something else to do, I nodded. “Alright, let’s do it” I said simply, causing grins to break out on both of my friend’s faces.
I wish to God in retrospect that I’d just had the damn spine to stand up and say “No”
The rest of the week seemed to pass by faster than usual. Before I knew it, the weekend had arrived. We’d decided that late Saturday night would be the best time to do this, as most places downtown closed up between eleven and midnight, aside from the bars and strip club. To say I felt anxious about breaking the law, something I wasn’t used to doing at all, would be like calling a Megalodon a goldfish, but my worries about disappointing my friends ended up outweighing it. And so, at eleven-thirty, the three of us piled into my beat up Chevy Tahoe, and made our way towards downtown. As I drove us down Ocean Boulevard, which connected the two sides of town, something settled over me. I can’t exactly place it, even to this day. But it was the most uneasy feeling I’ve ever experienced. But I did my best to push it away. It’s nothing, Troy. It’s just because you’re, understandably, worried about this. Plus, the road being deserted isn’t helping much.
My mental chiding seemed to help center me a bit, which was a good thing. The road was now angling downward, and a moment later, we drove into downtown. The darkened shapes of the closed stores seemed to rise up higher on either side of us than they looked during the daytime. We’d decided to cruise by the front entrance first, just to see if anyone were still inside. As I turned the truck onto the main drag, the sign for the theatre rose high above us, a depiction of an Egyptian pharaoh next to the yellow and white letters which proclaimed its name to everyone who drove through town. I spared a glance as we passed it. The lit up marquee windows showed that The Blues Brothers and Jaws would be shown soon. For whatever reason, though, I couldn’t bring myself to look through the glass doors that showed the building’s darkened interior. The uneasy feeling had returned, and, for a moment, it felt as though if I did look, I would see someone, or something staring back out at me. And then we passed it, taking the next right and looping back around to Anderson Ave.
I turned the truck into the narrow alley drive which ran along the back of the theatre and neighboring buildings. Parking right next to the rear doors would be extremely conspicuous, so I pulled up a bit further and parked in a carport like area. Shutting off the engine, I turned to my two friends. “Well, this is it” I said, “Last chance to turn back if anyone’s having second thoughts” I’d hoped that either Vinny or Natasha would’ve gotten cold feet in the last few minutes, allowing us to go do something else. But there was no such luck. “Are you kidding me?” Natasha said from the passenger seat, “We are far too close to back out now!” Vinny grunted from behind me. Well, shit. Resigning myself to the fact they were determined to go through with this, I let a deep breath out through my nose and nodded. The others opened their doors and hopped out. A moment later, I followed.
The night air was cool and crisp on my skin as we slowly walked back down the alley to the rear of the yellow-ish, tan building. Three different sets of red double doors were built into the back of the theatre. Natasha pulled something out of her coat pocket, and I realized, with a small pang of surprise, that it was a lock pick set. A legitimate lock pick set. “Where the hell did you get that?” I whispered to her. She shrugged and smiled. “I have my ways of getting things” she said simply, then pointed to the far right set of doors. “We’ll have a bit of cover from that electrical box. You two keep an eye out while I deal with the lock” And with that, she scurried forward, bending down in front of the door handles. Vinny and I stood guard, each of us looking down both ends of the alley. As the soft sound of Natasha messing with the lock filtered over to me, I realized just how quiet it was. And how eerie hearing downtown so quiet was. Aside from a few distant booms and bangs, and the far off sound of a dog barking, all I could hear was the whistle of the wind as it whipped between the old buildings.
An involuntary shiver cascaded up my spine, and I tried again to reason myself back to a relative sense of calm. “Get a grip, dude, you’re gonna be fine” I whispered under my breath. But this time, it felt as though I weren’t able to entirely convince myself. I suddenly became aware of a creeping sensation, one which made me shoot a look around. Nothing moved in the stillness, no indication of anyone besides us being in the alley. And, yet…I was overcome with the distinct feeling of being watched. Not by either of my friends. But…by someone else. Before I had a chance to even think about it, I heard a rather loud click, and Natasha let out a soft laugh of triumph. “We’re in, ladies and gentleman!” she declared, standing up and pulling on the door. It opened silently, the streetlight in the alley casting a small shaft of light into the darkness beyond. Turning, she waved an arm at Vinny and I. “Come on, let’s get inside”
Before either of us could say anything, she turned and disappeared into the dark. I shot a look at Vinny, who simply shrugged. “After you, my man” he whispered. I let out a deep sigh, and then moved to the door. Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out the small flashlight, and then pulled on the heavy metal, slipping inside, Vinny right behind me. The darkness swallowed us as the door closed. For a moment, a small rush of panic from not being able to see flashed through me, before a light appeared beside me. It wasn’t from a flashlight, though; instead, a small, orange flame flickered beside me. “Don’t turn on your flashlights yet, just follow me” Natasha said, the flame making her face seem to dance and move behind it. She turned and headed away, leaving us no choice but to follow. I listened to her and didn’t turn on my flashlight. But every fiber of my being was screaming at me to. Because the feeling of being watched out in the alleyway? Had quintupled in here. The best way to describe it, was that we were angrily being stared at. And I didn’t like the sensation one bit.
Natasha led us up a flight of steps and pushed open another door. “We’re here” she said, still keeping her voice low, “You can turn on your flashlights now” Thank you, God, I silently said, snapping mine on and casting a bright white light into the room we’d entered. A moment later, so did my two friends’ lights. The beams played around, and I heard Vinny let out a bit of a gasp. “Ho-lyyyy shit” he muttered.
Natasha had guided us into the main theatre. The ceiling rose high above our heads, almost out of sight of even the flashlights. Rows upon rows of red movie seats stretched out and away from us, seeming almost unending in the shadows. The walls were all covered in hieroglyphs, all still original from the 1920s. To our left, the second story, which housed a smaller row of seats, along with the projection room rose about twenty feet above us. And to the right, was the stage itself. It was flanked by two huge columns, the screen rolled up and revealing a mosaic of an Egyptian building on the back wall, with two men clutching staffs sitting on either side. Directly in front of the stage sat the organ, its seating bench tucked beneath it.
“Okay, this is a trip to be in at night!” Natasha exclaimed excitedly, then pulled the backpack she’d been wearing off her shoulders. Dropping it into a seat, she unzipped it and began pulling items from it. “Guys, here” she said, holding them out. Vinny stepped forward and grabbed the camcorder from her; as someone who’d had a lifelong dream of being a filmmaker, he was our resident cameraman. I stepped forward and took two items from her: an infrared thermometer and an EVP recorder. The rest, she placed on the ground, and then faced Vinny. “Alright, tell me when you’re recording” He fumbled with the camcorder for a second, then shot her a thumbs up. Instantly, she took on a somber, eerie expression, giving an admittedly creepy look at the camera. “Well, well, welcome back to The Three Ghostkuteers, everyone. I hope you all have been well since our last trip. Tonight, you join us in a very, very special place, and one close to home for us. We are currently in the Egyptian Theatre in Coos Bay, Oregon, one of the last remaining in the country. It was built in the 1920s by a man named Charles Noble-“
I turned away, tuning her out as I did. The woman really, really enjoys being in front of the camera. Better her than me. Shining my light around, I looked up at the balcony. I could see the small hole in the projection booth where the movie projector would shine out onto the screen. Something caught the beam’s light, reflecting off it slightly, and I aimed the light at the wall. It was a wrought iron light fixture, one which had been shaped into the figure of a King Cobra, poised to strike. Gazing around, I saw they adorned much of the walls. I let out a small shudder at it. God, do I hate snakes. Thankfully, though, the feeling of being watched I’d had in the alley and the darkened back of the theatre had seemingly disappeared. Yeah, see, what’d I tell you, Troy? Nothing but your nerves.
Natasha had finished her opening monologue and moved to the edge of the stage, on which she placed the small, square spirit box. “And now, let’s see if anyone would like to speak with us” she said, flicking it on. Instantly, the silence of the theatre was shattered by the sound of static, intermittently interrupted by quick snippets of radio shows being picked up. “Is there anyone here who’d like to talk to us?” she called out into the huge room. The static and snippets were the only sound to answer her. After a minute, she tried again. “Are there any spirits who’d like to communicate with us?” There was still nothing. Vinny panned the camera from the box to Natasha as she paced back and forth for a few minutes. A small look of disappointment flooded over her face, but she instantly plastered it over with the same look she’d given the camera before. “Well, it looks like the spirit box isn’t gonna work tonight, so we’re gonna have to try something else” She pulled out an EVP recorder identical to mine and switched it on. “Let’s try this instead, shall we? Remember, by the way guys, if you’re new here and want to see more, to like and subscribe-“
I turned away again, feeling a small pang of irritation flow through me. This is freakin’ ridiculous, man. The longer we stay in here, the more chance we have of getting caught. Truth be told, as much as I enjoyed ghost hunting, I didn’t even really believe in the paranormal. In all the years the three of us had filmed together, not once had we caught anything, on tape or otherwise. In fact, many times we’d had to fake spooky occurrences in order to make sure our videos got any views at all. This is your own fault, man, I silently chided myself, you’re the one who couldn’t stand up to them and say no. You really, seriously need to grown a spine and learn how to say no. The mental self lecture was furthering my rotten mood, and I began to feel a wave of anger at my two friends, as well as myself boil up.
“Hell with this” I finally muttered, then turned and began walking up the aisle. “Troy, where the hell are you going?” I heard Natasha call out behind me. I stopped, not looking over my shoulder, but quietly aiming my voice behind me and allowing a hint of irritation to seep into it. “I’m gonna go check out the second floor balcony, okay? I don’t exactly like just standing here” For a moment, there was silence, and then her voice came, soft and almost apologetic. “Okay, go ahead” Before she could say anything more, I strode away, walking to the open doorway which led out of the theater and into the concession area. I hooded my flashlight beam with one hand to make sure it wouldn’t accidentally shine out of the glass entrance doors into the street and looked around. The lobby and concession stand took up most of the front area, the darkened shape of it stretching along the far wall.
Taking a few steps ahead, I turned and looked up at the wall above me. Large, blue letters stretched out from one side of it to the other. Through these doors pass the most wonderful people. I snorted softly. “Yeah, unfortunately, not tonight” I shook my head, then looked around. And nearly jumped out of my skin. Something also seemed to jump back. I felt my heartbeat begin to race in my chest and my breath quickened. “Shit…” I let out weakly, then slowly moved forward. After a few steps, I suddenly realized what I’d seen and let out a soft laugh of relief.
“Your own damn reflection, you fucking pussy” Shaking my head, I turned away from the glass wall and headed for the stairs to the second floor. At the base of them, I stopped and shone my flashlight up. “Ooh, boy” I said quietly. Sitting next to the stairway like a sentry, was a huge, golden statue of a pharaoh. It towered over me, and I estimated that, were it be standing straight up, it’d easily be between eight and ten feet tall. It stared straight ahead at the wall ahead of it, and I couldn’t help but let out a small shiver as I stared at it. It just seemed so damn eerie in the dark, and I quickly moved past it, heading up the stairs and stepping out onto the second story balcony.
I shone my light around. Red seats again surrounded me, though this time far fewer. Ahead of me, I could see the balcony’s edge and the hulking shape of the main stage beyond. I could also see the beams of my friends’ flashlights playing over it, and hear both of their voices speaking softly. Deciding while I was up here to at least check out the projection booth, I strode over to the door and tried to turn the handle. It was locked. Feeling my irritation bubble over into exasperation, I jiggled the handle in some stupid attempt to open it. But the door stayed shut. I turned away and rubbed my eyes, again hearing the voices of my friends softly filtering up to me from down below.
“Hey, if there really are any ghosts, or spooks, or specters, or whatever in here? If you’re actually real, could you appear to us, please?” I whispered to no one, “That way my friends can get what they want and I can go home” I received only silence in reply. I hadn’t really expected anything, anyways. You know what? Screw this, I’m going back down there and telling them I’m going home, with or without them. This is beyond stupid, I just broke the law for what? For nothing! For something dumb as hell. And with that, I turned to walk away. But I hadn’t even taken a single step when something crashed into me like a wave. The breath was driven from my lungs as I felt a massive chill shoot through me, as though I’d been doused with ice water. “What the fuck?!” I hissed through gritted teeth, then froze, my eyes going wide. The feeling of being watched had returned with a vengeance, and it had seemingly been ramped up in its intensity. I shot a look around, but saw nobody.
Still, the feeling remained, and with each passing second, it almost seemed to grow stronger. Chill after chill rolled up my spine, and even though I didn’t really believe, something deep inside me told me that it was time to get out. Okay, time to leave, I said in my head, and headed quickly for the stairs. As I reached the head, I turned to look back one final time. That’s when I saw something. It disappeared when I aimed my flashlight at it, but I swear a second earlier it had been the outline of a person, standing in the shadows and watching me. The split second sight catapulted me into motion, and I hurried down the steps, shining my light every which way but loose. Believer or not, I knew something wanted us out. I’d planned on jumping off the second to last stair and running for the main theatre floor. But as I reached the bottom, I froze.
For a moment, I couldn’t place why. And then, the realization fell over me like a tsunami. I let out an involuntary gasp, and fear like I’d never felt before surged through me. I didn’t want to turn around and look. I wanted to pretend I hadn’t seen it. I desperately wanted to. But, like a dumbass character in a horror movie, I couldn’t help it. I needed to look. I slowly turned, aiming my flashlight back up. And I couldn’t help but let out a strangled scream, falling backwards over my own feet as I began to backpedal rapidly.
The statue of the pharaoh still sat where it had. It still towered over me, looking as imposing and eerie as ever. But it’s carved and painted eyes were no longer staring straight ahead at the wall. Instead, they had somehow moved. And when I’d turned, I’d come to find they were staring directly at me.
I scrambled to my feet, snatching the flashlight from the floor where I’d dropped it and aiming it at the statue again. It stared straight out at nothing again. But I knew what I’d seen. It hadn’t been a trick of my mind, or the light. The freaking thing’s eyes had moved to watch me as I passed down by it. I began to stammer out as I backed away from it. “Okay, that’s it, no no no no, we’re done here, fuck this shit, I’m officially a believer, we’re leaving, right now” I kept backing towards the doorway to the theatre, never taking my eyes off the statue. I was terrified I’d seen it suddenly stand up and turn to lumber after me like Boris Karloff or something.
The blaring sound of the theatre’s organ slashed through the silence, causing me to let out another strangled scream and jump almost a foot off the ground. I whipped around, thinking I would see my moronic friends tinkering with the instrument. Instead, I froze again. The theatre was no longer dark. Both of my friends had seemingly vanished from the room, as I could no longer see them. The movie screen had somehow been pulled down, and above me, I heard the whir of the movie projector playing. An old, black and white movie, one which had no sound, played on the screen, occasionally changing to show dialogue being displayed in white letters.
It was also no longer empty.
The entire theatre was packed. I saw people sitting at almost every single seat in the huge room. I could only see the backs of their heads as they watched the movie playing. At the edge of the stage, what looked like a man now sat at the organ, playing it in time with the film. A slapstick moment came across the screen, and the audience began laughing. In any other situation, it would’ve been a comforting sound. But at that moment, it was the most spine chilling sound I’d ever heard. Especially as another wave of realization crashed into me. From the little I could see, everyone in the theatre looked to be dressed in long passed fashions.
That’s when the voice, low and quiet, came from behind me. “Good evening, sir” it said. It sounded like a man’s voice, one rather low and deep pitched, but something about it paralyzed me on the spot. The voice continued, putting on an air of pleasant politeness. “We’re so glad you could make it, it’s been so long since we’ve had new patrons arrive at a showing. If I could just see your ticket, please?”
For a moment, I couldn’t speak. Then, I managed to squeak out two words. “Uh, ticket?” The tone of the voice seemed to change somewhat. “Yes, your ticket. That’s the only way you could’ve gotten in. Please, let me verify it and show you to your seat” Ohhh, shit. Whoever, or whatever the voice belonged to, thought I had shown up like a regular moviegoer. The voice’s tone became less polite. “You do have a ticket, right, sir?” I was beyond terrified to answer, but I was more terrified to remain silent. For a moment, I considered lying. But I feared what might happen if I did. So I told the truth.
“I….uh, I, uh….I don’t have a ticket, sir” I stammered out, my voice barely above a whisper. Instantly, all sound stopped in the room like someone had flipped a switch. “You…don’t have a ticket?” the voice said, all pretense of manners vanishing from it, “Then how did you get in here for the late night showing?” Oh, god. I forced myself to speak, still unable to say anything except the truth. “My…my friends and I….broke in…through the back door…to…ghost hunt…” There was silence for a few moments, and then a heavy hand dropped onto my shoulder. My head swiveled to look at it. Oh, fuck me sideways. It wasn’t a regular hand. It was a fucking claw. One with black skin, tipped with what looked like razor sharp nails. It sat there for a moment, then tightened; almost painfully so, making me let out a small whimper of pain.
That’s when I looked up. Everyone in the theatre had turned to look at me. My initial thought had been correct; they all wore clothing from almost a century ago, and not the stuff cosplayers wear, either. They also had very angry expressions on their faces, as if they’d just noticed the intruder among their midst. The voice finally came again, almost directly behind me. Its tone lowered, almost sounding guttural and animal, making my legs almost melt into jelly from the fear. “Then, might I make a suggestion to you and your trespassing little friends?” My breath came in rapid, ragged gasps, and I barely managed to force out the one word. “Yes?”
“LEAVE”
At the single word reply, which now more closely resembled a growl than a word, I did something I will forever wish I hadn’t. I finally turned and looked up at who was addressing me. The only way I can describe what happened is, my mind shattered. The next thing I remember, I was crashing into the back doors of the theatre into the night.
And I was screaming.
That was a month or so ago. When I’d stumbled back into the alley, I’d turned and, in what I can only call blind fear and panic, bolted for my truck. I hadn’t even heard my friends chasing after me. Not until Vinny caught up to me as I scrambled with my keys, grabbing me from behind and turning me to face him. He said the look I’d had on my face scared him and Natasha more than anything ever had before. I’d been pale as a sheet, my eyes wider than they ever thought a human’s could be. I'd been babbling softly. I’d been saying the words “They want us to leave” over and over. They didn’t ask me what had happened. They just pushed me into the backseat of my truck and drove away from there. It was clear, as I found out later on, that both of them hadn’t seen anything. As far as they were concerned before seeing me dash to the rear doors, it was just an empty theatre. Neither one of them ever asked me what I saw that night. And for that, I’m thankful. Because I could never utter from my lips what I did see.
But I’ve had nightmares since then. Horrible ones. Ones that’ve been so bad, I had to let out what happened to me, deciding to just post it here, regardless of whether people believe me or not.
Nightmares about being back in that theatre after hours. About seeing that pharaoh statue’s eyes flick in its painted sockets to look at me. About seeing all those people, people long since dead, sitting and watching the films they did when they were alive. About seeing that hand fall on my shoulder, hearing that voice, telling me not to come back until I have a ticket.
And about turning to see who the hand and voice belonged to.
The Egyptian Theatre will be celebrating its centennial this year. People are planning to show up in 1920s cars, dressed in period clothing. They’re even going to show an old, silent film as part of the festivities. But I won’t be attending it. I won’t ever go anywhere near it again. The one time I tried, a week or so ago, I started trembling with fear. And the mental image played over and over in my head.
The image of turning to see that horrible canine head attached to the human-like body, red, glowing eyes glaring down at me as it’s sharp teeth glinted in the light.
I pray to god I never will end up with a ticket to one of its late night showings.
But I can't help but fear that, like those packed into the theatre, sooner or later, we all will.

submitted by JLGoodwin1990 to nosleep [link] [comments]

2023.06.05 05:33 moishepesach [HR] [MS] For Whom The Willow Weeps

Question: If April flowers bring May showers, what do May flowers bring?
Answer: Puritans and misery.
Part 1 - May Flower Moon
I'm no expert but I'm pretty sure this is a ghost story. It all started in early May under the, "Flower Moon".
In the still of the night, I awoke from a deep sleep to witness a moonlight so spectacular it hurt my eyes.
Fumbling for my glasses, I found them, dropped them, cursed, then almost stepped on them. I finally got them where they belonged thinking I needed to use the bathroom. I glanced at the digital clock on my desk.
3:33 am. Again.
Willow weep for me
Bend your branches down along the ground and cover me
-Ann Ronell as sung by Billie Holiday
The birds were chirping loudly. I shuffled to the window. I looked up wide-eyed at the sky. There was the moon; big, round and golden like it didn't mind a big electricity bill. As I used the bathroom, I remember thinking that I didn't ever remember a full moon so bright it could light up my apartment.
I washed my hands then splashed warm water on my face. I cracked my neck. I dried my hands and face with a towel. I remember thinking if I didn't get back to sleep the day was going to suck.
Shuffling back into my bedroom I thought to look for my ski hat. I figured I could pull it over my eyes and escape the light under the blanket. Flower Moon was beautiful but so too is sleep. If I could just hide under the blanket perhaps it wasn't too late for sleep to creep up on me.
I have been renting the same sunny shoebox in old Brooklyn for more than 20 years. It's a corner apartment on the second floor of a 19th century walkup. Across the street, diagonally resides a community garden fronted by a very tall and expansive weeping willow tree that won't let me move away. I didn't know it's age until recently. But it's younger than me. Most things are these days.
I shuffled to the corner window to squeeze the blinds tight and that's when I felt grateful, grateful I had decided to use the bathroom first.
There, at the base of the hundred-foot-tall willow, behind the wrought iron fence, illuminated beneath the moon's glow, I witnessed something that froze my blood and tested my aging bladder. Standing beneath the moonlight, I saw, clear as day, a little boy in footed pajamas with a trap door. The little boy was holding a blue stuffed Grover Muppet in one hand and crying.
Trying to get a good look at the boy was like trying to look at something from behind a campfire. There was a shimmering distortion. What I could clearly see was that he was pointing down at the ground in front of his feet with the non-Grover hand. Suddenly, the little boy spun his head up and around looking directly at me. Eye contact occurred and then too, something I can't explain.
First, a truck transporting fuel broke loudly for the red light at the corner. Through the open windows I smelled what seemed like diesel. I grew light-headed. The room spun around. I remember thinking this feeling smelled both nauseating as well as timeless.
I reached down to try and pick up the floor and that's when it hit me in the face. A sharp pain across my cheek like I had been slapped in a 3 Stooges short. I felt icy fingers grab the hair I had not had in over 30 years and jerk my head back. I smelled more diesel. I grabbed the edge of the desk to keep from losing my balance.
Holding on to the desk, I noticed my mind's eye was playing the little boy's face like a movie. The camera panned in. His little boy face filled my consciousness like I was watching from the front row. He was about four or five years old with long dirty blonde hair. His face looked familiar from a dream.
Then, another slapping pain turned my last good cheek. Losing my balance, I fell ass first to the floor.
Out the window, from on my ass, I watched the traffic light turn green. I heard the truck lurch into gear, rev it's engine then drive away. As it rumbled off into the distance my equilibrium returned.
Muttering my life sucked I gently shook my head and felt for damage. Just my non-existent pride. I got myself vertical, yet once again; feeling a distinct twinge of anxiety.
I looked out the window but the little boy was gone. An FDNY ambulance took his place, it's siren jarring me back to reality. I closed the blinds and got under the blanket. I never did really get back to sleep that night. Or ever since.
Part II - Unhappily Ever Since
Sad as I can be Hear me willow and weep for me... -Billie I keep seeing a little boy under the tree... - me ...
The first thing I want to say is that I keep waking up for decades at exactly 3:33 am.
It's the exact time my decrepit birth certificate claims I was introduced to this world. Can't say why, but ever since digital clocks became a thing, I'm up more often than not to witness 3:33 am transpire. Never remember it happening before digital.
One of my friends recently told me it was an angel number. I don't know anything about angels. Never met one. But I for sure have met some demons in my day. In fact. you might say I was born of demon mother, and I might not be offended. Back to my birth certificate. I was born and yes, still live in Brooklyn, New York. There were gaps but it's my home.
I moved to this particular apartment building a few months after 9/11. I had moved in with a woman at the tail end of doing a romantic nickel, but that fell apart like Madoff, Abramoff or Fuckoff, and she married another dude a year later. So, there in 2002, I and my faithful golden retriever, Spenser, found ourselves, for the very first time, on our own. And, we liked it.
Like I mentioned, Spenser and I lived diagonal to a community garden that fronts a big and beautiful weeping willow tree. I felt an immediate kinship as my favorite book as a child had been, "The Giving Tree" and that's what she reminded me of; only more beautiful.
There will be more about the tree. Anyway, the tree and I dwell in an old part of south Brooklyn called Park Slope, infamous for being the stomping grounds of a young Al Capone, and, believe it or not, young me.
That was a long time ago. Things have changed a lot since Al and I, were separately roaming the streets of Park Slope, looking for adventure and whatever came our way. I came up in the day when if you cried your mother would give you something to cry about. And, not going to lie, I cried a lot. I don't remember my dad that much.
I remember he was a hippie. I remember he had a big beard and moustache and long hair. I remember his denim jacket was always cold, smelling like weed and cigarettes. I remember he gave me, "The Giving Tree" and taught me how to read it. And then, I remember he was; gone. Just. Gone.
I also remember my mother. I remember her never talking much. I remember her just smelling like hair spray, cigarettes and instant coffee with sour milk. I never was able to drink milk, not even as a child, and to this very day just the sight of a milk carton turns my stomach to acid.
I lived alone with the old lady about half a mile from where I live now. Yeah, in over thirty years I made it a whole thirteen blocks. Like I said, my pride was non-existent these days unless I was sitting on it. Another, weird thing besides waking up at 3:33 am is I have a lot of memory lapses. It has been getting worse the last few years. Especially, since old Spenser had a seizure in my arms back on the 9/11 of '09. He was fifteen and my best friend. I'd always loved dogs. But after losing Spenser, I couldn't quite remember things right all the time.
Sometimes, it was little things. Like did I turn off the stove or lock the front door. Other times, it was deep things, like did the telephone repair man try to do something to me when I was five and left home alone. Like did I pull a kitchen knife on him before he scampered out like a thief in the night; scared he'd be caught by my screams for Batman? Did I remember my mother having strange guests over late at night? Did I remember being locked in my room? I just couldn't remember anymore.
I had taken to obsessively keeping lists. But you can't put ghost-busting on a list, can you? And that was my real problem. Ever since, the May Flower Moon the haunting just kept rinsing and repeating. Eat edibles, Nyquil, and Advil PM and still wake up at 3:33am. Smell diesel. Wave of nausea. Little boy in garden. Little boy crying. Little boy pointing at something. Little boy looking up at me. Little boy. Little boy. Little boy.
By last Friday, I was a mess.
My work is suffering. I am too embarrassed to tell my aunt or besties I see a little boy. They already think I am weird enough and last thing I need is a wellness check.
To remain scientific, I have continued my daytime visits to the garden whenever it is open. Everything seems so lovely in the day. I even brought the new woman I am seeing. She fell in love with the tree at first sight. The flowers are gorgeous. And the roses; so mesmerizing. Even the fish in the koi pond are happy.
But at night. Something isn't right.
...Weeping willow tree Weeping sympathy Bend your branches down along the ground and cover me Listen to me plead Hear me willow and weep for me...
My new friend at work I mentioned, who told me about angel numbers, asked me recently if something was bothering me. She told me when we met, she is in the midst of a spiritual awakening.
Part of it includes awakening every morning to read the Tarot cards and commune with who, or what, she calls, "spirit".
I cracked and told her about the little boy under the tree. She didn't bat an eye. She told me spirit wants something from me. I didn't know what to say to that so I just left it alone. I guess I'm afraid what if she's right. And what if I don't like what, "spirit" wants?
Last night was Saturday. I had a dream.
That night I dreamed about a collie I had when I was a very young boy right after my dad split. Her name was Pearl. I had found her on the street on my block and for some inexplicable reason had been allowed to keep her.
Not long after, one hot summer day in Prospect Park, when my mother was going to give me something to cry about, Pearl suddenly ran down the hill she was frolicking on, making a wide sweeping arc that screamed, "ride or die, full throttle, and damn the fucking torpedoes," it's trajectory directly between my mother's legs. Fur overcame flesh just in the nick before I was given something to cry about.
Instead, I laughed.
I laughed so fucking hysterically at the sight of her on the grass, on her ass; smug look gone with the wind; replaced by an expression seething red menace that would have been McCarthy's wet dream.
And, like the little boy at 3:33 am, Pearl's eyes met mine. She seemed to nod her collie head, as if she were acknowledging that, yes, she was the best dog and don't you forget it. I didn't cry much for a while after that till I came home from school and Pearl was gone. Just gone. To some farm I was told. Where she could be happier. So, I guess I did get something to cry about after all.
And then last night I had a dream.
Part III - It weeps for me?
I dreamed of Peter Pan and buried treasure. I dreamed of Stove Stop stuffing and commercials loud enough to drown out a breech birth. I dreamed of Spider-Man letting Uncle Ben's killer go free. I dreamed of being American. I dreamed of Watergate, the fall of the Berlin wall, 9/11 and watching people jump out windows to avoid burning to death out the window of my office.
I dreamed of Iraq and Afghanistan and George Floyd and Covid and never-ending cycles of boom and bust. I dreamed of a golden carrot on what started out as a stick but soon morphed into what I realized was a branch. A long flowing beautiful branch covered in red. A branch that hung low. It swayed along the ground, swayed above my head and there I was.
I was in the garden. Under the tree. I felt drops of warm dew caressing my face. I was about to reach up to caress the tree. My tree. I noticed I was wearing pajamas. Not the black satin jammies I had been wearing for decades but old footie pajamas. They were Star Trek pajamas. With three golden rings on the cuffs and a trap door.
A drop of dew fell in my eye. I wiped it away and looked at my hand. It was red. Red with blood. My Mickey Mouse watch involuntarily color-coordinated with the blood. It appeared to be just after 3:30 am.
Suddenly, a dog appeared. It was Pearl. Then another, it was Spenser. They jammed their snouts into my flannel covered crotch. I pet them both and noticed my tears mixing with the dewy blood drops turning them a soft pink under the moonlight.
"Good boy. Good girl." I said.
"Hi," a voice I recognized but couldn't place said.
I looked around. And there, was, the little boy. And, in his hand was Grover.
"Hi," I heard myself say.
"Who's the dog?" he said.
"That's Pearl. And this is Spenser." I answered.
"I know Pearl, silly. She's my dog," then, "Hi, Spenser."
Spenser left my crotch for the little boy's. They went together like peanut butter and sandwiches.
"Where are your parents?" I heard myself ask.
"Dad left. Mom told me to stay here until she comes back."
"When was that?" I asked.
The little boy shrugged then, "Been a while I guess," and he started to cry. Spenser got agitated and started to whine. I approached. I went to put my hand on the boy's shoulder and he jumped.
"Hey, it's okay." I took my hand back.
He looked up at me. Then he said, "You want to see something?
I said, "Yes."
The little boy fished around in his pajamas and pulled out something, it looked like a piece of rolled up construction paper secured with a red ribbon that matched the bloody dew drops.
He un-scrolled it then solemnly showed it to me.
It appeared to be a child's treasure map. That ended in the garden. Only it wasn't a garden. It said, "JUNK YARD" and there was a big X next to the corner of the rectangle the words were written in. I looked down at him.
"There's no junk yard here, son," I said.
The little boy looked away from Spenser and up at me. Pearl ran to his side. I felt six eyes on me.
"That's what you think," he said
A moment later there was the loud cracking of fireworks being detonated. I awoke in my bed. Fumbling for my glasses, I found them, dropped them, cursed, then almost stepped on them. I finally got them where they belonged thinking I needed to use the bathroom. I glanced at the digital clock on my desk.
3:33 am. Again.
I ran to the window to look out. But, unlike every other time for the past month, the boy was not in residence. He was gone. Just. Gone.
Part IV - The is The End
Gone my lovely dreams To weep my tears along the stream Sad as I can be Hear me willow and weep for me
...
This was fucking ridiculous. I am sane. I am not mad. I'd been reading, "The Giving Tree," too much. Spending too much time alone working from home. Maybe I just needed to get away. Take a trip somewhere.
I realized getting back to sleep was going to be impossible. So, I went into the kitchen and made a pot of tea. No milk.
Back at my desk, my "SHIT. FUCK. DAMN." glass mug of tea firmly in hand, I took a deep breath. There was no point in giving myself a heart attack. Maybe it was just anxiety. Maybe panic attacks. I had dated lots of neurotic women. That could be it. Maybe some Lexapro and I'd be good as new. I decided to check my email.
A woman I used to date from Queens and stayed friends with had sent me a link entitled, "Birth of a community garden." It was video to my garden. Before it was a garden. Over forty years ago. It was a decrepit vacant lot filled with dead cars and refuse and apparently had been a neighborhood drug bazaar. Like I said, things have changed a lot since Al and I were young as springtime.
By the time I moved back you would have never known what things had used to look like. Spray painted signs that read, "NO DRUGS SOLD HERE!" and the like. Just like the Batman, Dark Knight, the 80s were a time when Urban Renewal was striking back. And before you could say, "corruption at City Hall," there was fecund soil where once had stood God knows what.
It gave me hope that humanity wasn't so bad. Maybe I had just been going through a tough time. Maybe I should quit while I am ahead and get a good night's rest. So, I closed the blinds and went to bed.
Why I am never sleeping again
That night I dreamed I was part of the junk yard's saviors. Hauling out decades of festering trash and replacing it with good old Mother Earth. A whole community coming together to commune with nature. I felt myself smile.
All day we hoed the rows. The fecundity of the soil filling my nostrils. There was food and laughter and soon day turned to night. One by one all the gardeners left into the dusk. Soon I stood alone next to a young woman. She held a green army duffle bag. And two shovels.
"You look like a big, strong man. They're going to be planting a weeping willow tree here soon. But first, I wanted to leave the earth a special gift to grow up with the tree. This time I think we should give to the tree. Won't you help me?"
I felt a passing twinge of disgust. I rubbed my upper lip with the back of my hand and thought I smelled the faint smell of diesel. I heard myself say, "Hand me a shovel."
An hour later I had fulfilled the lady's request to deposit the duffel bag deep within the new garden's soil. She lit a cigarette I recognized. She blew some smoke in my face and it smelled like sour milk.
"Ever read a boy and his dog?" she asked.
I nodded.
"This is the opposite," she said. I smelled the diesel again and then remembered no more.
This morning I awoke feeling none too swell. I got my glasses on without dropping them for a change then sort of hobbled to the kitchen area to make some tea. I opened the blinds and there was my weeping willow tree. Swaying gently in the Sunday early June overcast chill.
Implacable. Inscrutable. True to it's nature. The day was gray as a widow's anniversary.
Well, there's always tea, I thought, ever the optimist. And then I dropped my, "SHIT. FUCK. DAMN." mug on my foot, simultaneously battering and scalding it. I let out a yelp.
Then, mouth agape, I smelled the diesel waft in the window by the fire escape. The window, where, leaning against the fire escape's stairs I witnessed something that froze my blood and tested my aging bladder.
I spied two shovels and an empty duffle bag.
I wonder what spirit will have to say about that?
Gone my lovely dreams To weep my tears along the stream Sad as I can be Hear me willow and weep for me
Willow Weep For Me?

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2023.06.05 05:11 kennynailtech JELLY NAIL DESIGNS YOU MUST TRY RIGHT AWAY

For starters, Dua Lipa, Cardi B, Lil Nas X, Megan Fox, Lizzo, and Kylie Jenner have all rocked jelly nails. Or perhaps we should argue that because the jelly nails are translucent, we have "seen through" them.
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DOING JELLY NAILS: A GUIDE

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Look at this collection of trendy-colored gel polishes

24 COLOR SET OF THE LAVIS JELLY NUDE GEL COLLECTION

These jelly nude gel hues are transparent but vibrant, and they last for up to 3 weeks. The polish is easy for beginners to apply and remove, and it has a lovely fragrance. To fix it, all you need is a nail lamp.
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In essence, you'll require:
conventional manicure equipment, such as a nail lamp and a file, to prepare and shape the nails
Here is the nail lamp we like best. It is strong enough for a salon while still being ideal for beginners:

UV/LED NAIL LAMP by LAVIS

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WHAT IS 3D JELLY NAILS?

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TRY THESE DELICIOUS JELLY NAIL DESIGNS

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Watercolor

Beautiful jelly nails with watercolor designs. But how can you create the colorful whirlpool? We've discovered that blossoming gel polish is a miracle worker.

BLOSSOM GEL POLISH, LDS

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CHROME

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yournailsupplier

POWDER SET FOR CHAMELEON CHROME NAIL PIGMENT

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HOLOGRAPHIC Holographic

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JELLY NAILS WITH GLITTER

The sparkling Aurora top polish gives jelly nails unique effects. It's not your typical glitter nail polish. Choosing which colour to use first is the most difficult aspect of using it.

JELLY NAILS WITH EMBLAM

We are now moving towards 3D nails. Before embossing the surface with hand-painted or stamped designs, apply the jelly nude gel and nail products suppliers near me allow it to set. Five distinct emboss gels in varying colors are included in the kit. Do you have an image in your mind of blue jelly nails with silver lightning flashes on them?

FRUIT OR CLOUDS IN 3D

What's the trick to creating jelly nails with clouds, fruit, gummi bears, or jellyfish? Builder gel is the catalyst.

GEL LAVIS BUILDER

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CAN LACQUER BE USED TO DO JELLY NAILS INSTEAD OF GELS?

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CONCLUSION

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2023.06.05 05:03 LonnieJay1 Storytime: Losing my mind

I park my car in the incredibly nice upper-middle class Huntington Beach neighborhood, just down the street from the ‘New Reality’ (editor's note: fake name) sober living I got kicked out of. I take a second to pull myself together while in the darkness. I’m starting to feel very weak, very frazzled. I’ve been awake for at least 60 hours straight now, and I’m well aware of that. It is 1AM. I can’t decide if I should get a hotel or not.
I am so weak. I need to eat. I need water. I need to sleep. My mouth tastes TERRIBLE – like I am decaying from the inside out. I need to shower. I am aware that I have many physical needs that go beyond my need for more drugs.
See how you feel after the next shot, Lonnie.
I text Kace:
Here
I pat my pockets, making sure I have two separate bags: a bag in my left pocket, which has my furanylfentanyl and clean syringes in it, and a bag in my right pocket, which has both their meth and their dilaudid pills in it. I do not want to sell them furanylfentanyl because I don’t want them to die in the sober living house that has already seen 2 overdoses because of it.
I get out of my car and lock it. I walk through the sprawling, meticulous Huntington Beach neighborhood full of spacious and decorous houses, heading towards the sober living, though I stay on the other side of the street. I walk past several houses, with perfect green lawns and perfect landscapes, walking past the sober living. I walk a few houses past it, and then cross the street. When I arrive on the other side of the street, I glance all around me, checking for surveillance.
I double back, heading towards the sober living. I cut into the side yard, heading for the side door that leads into the garage. It is already cracked open, just as we planned. I open the door just enough so that I am able to slide through. I see two phone lights on in the far corner of the big 3-car garage.
“Yo,” I whisper-yell in the direction of the phone lights. One of the lights starts moving in a circular motion, beckoning me closer. I walk up, moving as quietly as I can. It would be terrible if the house manager, Jack, came in here right now.
I pull out their bag of dilaudid and meth. I see a hand with money in it being held out in my direction. I take the money and replace it with their bag of drugs.
“Nice, thanks,” Kace whispers, as I count the money. It's right on. The phone lights move closer to the ground, so I move with them. I see 3 fresh bottles of water on the ground, just like I asked for. I pull out the bag of needles and hand each of them 2 clean needles, putting one on the ground for myself.
“You got the Q-tips,” I whisper, looking towards Kace. His hand is already outstretched, a Q tip in it. I open the water bottle and put the bottle cap on the floor, beginning to prepare my shot of furanylfentanyl as quietly as I can, while they break up their dilaudids. The phones are propped up on the floor, giving me an eerie feeling. I have seen this before.
Déjà vu hits, and something inside me works to flash me back to my horrible half-ounce psilocybin trip. I suppress the embodied, hellish memories and the feelings of absolute terror, doom, and panic by preparing the shot as fast as I can.
“Where are you going after this?” Kace whispers to me, while we all work. I don’t even know the third boy, I only know that his name is Shane, he is white, he came here from the east coast, he’s in his 20s, and that he came to the wrong place if he wants to survive and recover from his addiction.
“I might go get a hotel, depends on how I feel,” I whisper back.
“Well, take a piece of this, mix it in there, that’ll help,” Kace whispers, his hand outstretched with a shard of meth in it. Meth is Kace’s panacea. I hesitate for a second, only because I know that this meth came from Sloan, which means it came from Lucky, which means it is very clean and very, very strong.
A small amount added to my shot of furry would ensure that I could stay awake for a little while longer. Now that I am coming down from the 2-day cocaine binge and haven’t yet slept, I run the risk of passing out at any moment.
“Maybe I should, just to be on the safe side,” I whisper, before involuntarily watching my hand take the small shard of meth and add it to the bottle cap. I take pleasure in the fact that this is fresh water from a clean water bottle, a fresh cotton, a clean bottle cap, and drugs that I sourced myself and am familiar with.
Listen to you, Lonnie. This is your third day in a row, and now that you don’t have cocaine, you’re doing meth? You were chugging cough syrup, you went on a cocaine binge, now you’re doing some goddamn meth? The dirtiest, most disgusting drug on the planet? And you’re selling it to these poor kids, at their sober living? Shame on you.
I shake my head slightly, hoping to shut it up.
I push the limits in my preparation of the dose: adding meth to this shot enables me to add more furanylfentanyl than I normally would, since the meth will keep me awake and therefore alive. I look up from the phone light when I am done, and I am surprised to see somebody else is done prepping and has completed their injection before me.
“Whoa, god damn,” Shane whispers. I chuckle.
“He’s never done a dilaudid before,” Kace whispers. I can hear the smile on Kace’s face, even in the darkness. I don’t smile, for something terrible has happened on this night. Shane’s soul has been infected by another parasite, and I will burn in the deepest level of Hell for being the one that brought it to him.
“Can you light me up?” I ask. One of the phone lights turns towards me. I find a vein quickly and easily, though I am having to rotate injection sites constantly. I cap the needle when it’s done and lean back, putting my hands on the concrete floor of the garage behind me. I count mentally, and barely make it past 3.
Every cell that I consist of alights with the jolting electric euphoria of meth. My chest tightens with power and ecstasy. I feel electric light waves of raw energy emanating from my heart as my heart rate dramatically increases with feelings of excited arousal.
All weakness and negativity have disappeared from my body. I could fight a tiger right now. I should go play basketball right now. I’d be unstoppable. I’d win every game. Nobody else would even have a chance.
“Fuck, I hate meth,” I whisper, overly alert, my heart racing in my ears. Now it feels like the house manager will open the door any second. Police are certainly watching us. My heart races in nonstop anticipation; I can feel my heartbeat in my trembling hands. Only the massive shot of furry I did can prevent the paranoia from causing me to panic. I take solace in the sensations of peace and relaxation that underlie the meth high. My lady, the Opioid - even though She is the cold, robotic Miss Furryfent, She is with me. I have nothing to fear.
“Nobody hates meth,” Kace whispers.
“It’s too good. It makes me feel too powerful. It makes me feel crazy,” I say.
“Yeah, it’s awesome,” Shane whispers, as we watch Kace inject himself. There are a few seconds of silence, all of us waiting for Kace to get his rush.
“Shit, that dilaudid gives you a good rush. I forgot how good it is,” Kace whispers.
“I know,” I whisper back, before standing up. I walk to the exit, loath to be physically alone again, even though I feel lonely all the time. I wish I didn’t have to leave, but I know that this is another place that I am not welcome. The world is shrinking around me by the day. I am wearing out my welcome at the few places I am still allowed to go.
I need to go back to another treatment center, but life feels hopeless. More talk therapy, more 12-step meetings, more jail-rehabs, more vacation-rehabs – none of it has worked for me, and more of the same thing won’t help me. I am so hooked on these drugs; the drugs are a torrent, and every method of treatment is like a two-by-four piece of wood laying in the way. These drugs have my soul. Death is closing in on me.
“Thanks for coming out here. Be safe, brother,” Kace whispers, before closing the door behind me. I hear it lock, which hurts my feelings, even though I don’t blame him for locking me out. I’d lock me out, too.
I step out into a warm summer California night – back into a world that I don’t belong in; back into a world that doesn't want me.
Where are you going to go, Lonnie?
Not here. Anywhere but here. I start walking, and then start jogging across the street. Surprisingly, I feel no pain in my ankles at all. Jogging feels good. I make it across the street, and then keep jogging.
I jog up to my car. I open the door and get in it. I sit for a second. I check in on my body.
I feel amazing. I could run 3 miles right now. I feel great. I should keep moving.
I check in with my stomach. Although I couldn’t be less hungry, I know I need to consume some nutrients, even if they’re just liquid. I've been injecting cocaine continuously; I haven’t eaten a solid meal or slept in days.
I know what to do. I put my drugs and paraphernalia in the center console of my car. I get out of the car with only my phone, wallet, and keys in my pockets. I lock the car, checking it twice so it registers in my meth-addled brain, which is often riddled with unreasonable paranoia, that it is locked, and nobody can steal my drugs.
I start to walk away from my car, then stop mid-step. What if Kace or one of those guys comes looking for my car, knowing that it is full of drugs?
I am frozen with indecision. I notice I am licking my lips with overstimulation and force myself to stop my tongue. My heart is racing. I’m shaking with excitation. My brain is screaming at my body to do something, but I don't know what to do. They will certainly come looking for my car, hungry for more drugs.
You're being ridiculous, Lonnie. Nobody is going to steal your drugs.
I tell my feet to move. They won't move. I feel the urge to scream. I have to get away from here, I have to do something.
I start to jog again. I can get a quick workout in and get my brain to shut up at the same time. I start to jog, doing the old breathing trick I did when I was a kid trying to run the fastest 1-mile time in gym class.
I focus on my breath, to which I apply a specific breathing pattern. In, in, out. I jog, and I breathe. I jog, and then I jog faster, and my breathing sharpens – and then I jog even faster. I jog out of the neighborhood and onto the main road that connects these huge, gorgeous housing developments in Huntington Beach. I jog in the direction of a gas station that I know is just down the street from me.
I jog, and my mind turns to college basketball. I visualize myself playing in my mind, shooting 3-pointers and knowing that they’re in the hoop as soon as they leave my hand. I shoot a few more 3-pointers in my mind before losing myself completely.
The big, bright, lights, the smell of the hardwood, the sound of the ball bouncing on the floor and echoing off of every wall. The sound of solitude, and hard work, and everything that is good in life. The sound of the ball hitting nothing but net. Watching the net flip up after a perfect swish. I take myself back to some of my favorite moments playing basketball: back to Frederick, Maryland, where I scored 16 points on an overseas professional in a competitive men’s league game.
Back to West Palm Beach, Florida, where I got invited to try out for the semi-pro ABA team, the Miami Storm.
Back to Atlanta, GA, where I got made fun for doing ball handling drills with a tennis ball and then picked last, only to lead my team to victory several times in a row, scoring almost all of our points, winning in silence.
Showing up day in and day out, scoring and shooting and winning. Even when I was losing, I was getting better, so I was winning.
I press onward, jogging harder. I am going to play college basketball. Nothing is going to stop me. I notice that my shirt, which is drenched in sweat, is sticking to my skin. I peel my shirt off, barely slowing my pace. I glance up and to my right. There is a brown apartment complex. I throw my shirt in one of the bushes, making a mental note to get it out of the bush on my way back, certain that I’ll remember exactly how it landed in the bushes and precisely where it is.
I start to jog again, pretending that I have a basketball. I cross the invisible ball back and forth on the sidewalk, going out of my way to cross bushes up, crossing the imaginary ball hard and then going straight into a spin move. I lose myself in the movements. Thoughts cease, and there is nothing but my instinct telling me which dribble move to pantomime next against invisible defenders.
I stop. Why am I even going to the gas station? I should just get my car, go to 24-hour fitness, and play basketball for real. I turn around and start the journey back the way I came. I continue to run and do fake basketball moves on the shadow people. Finally, I find myself back in the residential neighborhood of Huntington Beach that my car is in.
I look around again. Is this the right neighborhood? Where am I? I walk around, looking for a landmark or something that I recognize.
There was something I was supposed to remember.
That’s right, I have to get to work. I need to find my car.
A white truck pulls up in the street next to me and stops.
That’s right, there’s a white truck coming to pick me up and take me to work! I walk up to the white truck, which has stopped in the middle of the road. Though the windows are tinted, I know that Todd is in this truck, and that he is here to pick me up to take me to Cinepolis for work. I pull on the passenger side door handle of the truck, so I can get in and go to work. The handle slips out of my hand when the door doesn’t pop open. The truck starts to drive away.
Why would Todd do that to me?! I look up at the sky. The sun is coming up? Shit, I’m going to be late for work now! I jog away from the truck. I need to go back to Todd’s house. I jog up to Todd’s house, which is the brown house right down the street. I walk up to the door and twist the doorknob. It doesn’t open.
Of course, it didn’t open, dumbass. Todd went to work.
I jog away. How am I going to get to work? I jog some more and start to feel sick.
Where am I?
“HEY! You left your stuff, like, way back there!” a random lady yells at me. I look at her, and then around at my surroundings. I don’t know where I am.
“What?” I yell back at her.
“You took your shorts off and left your stuff, like, way back there. I’ve been watching you. I think you should go home!” she yells, from across the street. I reach for my pockets.
I look down at my lower half. I have no shorts on. I am wearing nothing but black Nike compression underpants and basketball shoes. Realization strikes me like a thunderbolt: I have been running around in a state of meth-induced delusion for the entire night, playing with an invisible basketball.
I jog across the street, over to the lady.
“I’m sorry. I had a little too much to drink last night. Do you mind showing me where I left my stuff?” I ask, evaluating the woman. She is in her 40’s or 50’s, with long dark hair and a kind face. She has a small dog with her. He looks like a mutt.
“I figured. I was walking my dog, and saw you take your shorts off. I wanted to stop you when you tried to get in the truck, but I thought maybe you knew them. Then you tried to get in that house. You seemed very confused and out of it. Your pants are back this way,” she says, walking her dog down the sidewalk, back the way I came.
“Thanks,” I say, too embarrassed and ashamed to say much else. The sun is up. I try to walk naturally, like I am wearing pants instead of not wearing pants, which is a difficult thing to do. She leads me several minutes down the sidewalk, to somebody’s front yard. I see my shorts sitting in the grass in somebody’s yard, right by the sidewalk. I grab my shorts and put them on. My wallet and my phone are still in the pockets.
My keys. Shit, where are my keys?
“Do you know where my keys are?” I ask the woman, too embarrassed to look her in the eyes.
“No. I saw you take off your shorts here. I’ve been watching you, and I’m sure I’m not the only one. I wouldn’t be surprised if police are on their way,” she says, her eyebrows raised at me knowingly.
“Ok. Well, thanks for your help. I’m going to go. My house is in the neighborhood over there,” I lie, pointing further away from her and walking away. The word “police” forces me into action. I powerwalk until she is out of sight, and then I start to jog again.
Jog faster, Lonnie. Train harder.
No. I have to slow down. I’m becoming psychotic from overexertion, lack of nutrition, sleep deprivation, and methamphetamine. I have no drugs on me. I can slow down.
I force myself to start walking. I become aware, again, of my racing heart. It has been beating like this for days on end. It could easily explode and kill me at any second. Wait, when was the last time I did any opioids? The furanylfentanyl has been making me dopesick within 6 hours. I search my body for opioid effects. There are none.
I’m in the no man’s land between the opioid high and the withdrawal where I actually feel normal. The more I binge, the shorter the breaks become, and I’ve been binging, hard. If I feel normal now, that means I’ll be dopesick any second. I whine out loud. I want to scream up at the sky. My stomach starts to hurt terribly – it feels like it is bleeding.
I am dying.
I open my phone’s GPS and set it to my old sober living.
Shit, I don’t have a car key. I can’t get into my car! I call a locksmith, and then I start to run back towards the ironically named ‘sober living.’
I attempt to cling to reality.
My name is Lonnie. I am in Huntington Beach. I am going to Jack’s sober living, so I can do some fentanyl, so I don’t get dopesick. I did some meth, and I haven’t slept or ate in days, so I might hallucinate. Hallucinations aren’t real.
My name is Lonnie. I am in Huntington beach. I went to Florida for rehab for sniffing oxy, and I started to shoot dope. I came to California to stop shooting dope and picked up a meth habit.
STOP!
My name is Lonnie. The world would be better off if I were dead.
I start to walk. I can’t take this. I need some music. No, playing music would be suspicious. I start to jog again, trying not to think about my racing heart. I should focus on my breathing.
No, I can’t do that. That’s what made me go psychotic.
My name is Lonnie. I am going back to Jack’s sober living…

submitted by LonnieJay1 to opiates [link] [comments]

2023.06.05 03:51 bosandaros [Neighbor] - Chapter 12

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
POV: Mavis
They were deep into the game when Mavis glanced at the black sky between the open blinds. The screen was suddenly so bright in the dark room, and her muscles ached when she stretched around the controller.
Her legs swung off the end of the bed as she tilted the controller. At some point, they switched places. Mavis looked at Zed, his glassy eyes frozen over and his tongue stuck out halfway in intense concentration.
She stifled a laugh.
Mavis had never seen anyone that deep in the zone, ever. It was inspiring.
“I have to pee,” Zed announced.
He stood and left the room, leaving the door cracked so the hall light came in. Mavis massaged her hands, then looked down at the controller in her lap. Everything about staying over was so natural. Zed didn’t seem put off by her either.
She was about to push her luck.
The toilet flushed and a minute later he walked back into the room.
“So, I was wondering if I could stay for the night,” Mavis said.
His impassive expression didn’t change in the slightest. She took a breath to go into a diatribe about moving and that her mattress wasn’t ready yet, that the couch had springs sticking out in awkward places and it was impossible to sleep.
“Okay,” he said.
Her breath deflated.
“Well, that was easy,” she said, half-jokingly.
Zed huffed, a laugh, Mavis realized. He sat next to her on the bed and picked up the other controller.
“Let’s continue our game,” Zed said.
“Actually, I think I’m good,” she said.
He shrugged.
Zed exited the game and played Forza Horizon instead.
After some time, Mavis braved the question that she’d been waiting to ask.
“Zed, are you doing anything this weekend?”
He was completely unfazed for a moment, and she thought that he hadn’t heard her.
“I’m going to my dad’s. It’s his birthday. Do you want to go?”
That was almost too easy.
Mavis was momentarily stunned.
“Yes,” she said.
Zed broke his focus from the screen and looked at her.
“Really? It’s going to be boring as hell. I need someone to talk to,” he said.
Zed clutched the controller a bit tighter.
Mavis didn’t know how to respond.
“Yes,” she said again.
He turned his eyes back to the screen, right as he ran into a tree in the middle of a field.
Later that night he slumped over onto her shoulder, dead to the world. Of course, only in a figurative sense, as Mavis would never hurt a blond hair on this angel’s head.
Every minute with him made her feel as close to a normal human being that she could ever possibly be. He made her laugh, made her forget that she could never be discovered. They both loved to drive fast.
She looked at his expression longingly, so beautiful when it was wiped of worry. His red buttondown rode up to expose a white underbelly like a fish, his skin so soft and if she could touch…
Her nose flared as the thought made her boil with pleasure, but she put it away before she thought of things she would regret.
Mavis could see that something was wrong, earlier, but she would take care of that.
That morning she was in his house, unbeknownst to him, before he left for work. From under his bed, Mavis overheard his conversation with his dad about the party they were having. There was an attendee who she was especially interested in meeting, one whose address she attained from Collins’ contact list.
He went by the name of SpinTop. God knew why. Anyone could grab his real moniker the second they saw that his face was plastered right there. He had dark brown hair that was really a rather unconvincing toupee, and a very distinct bump on the bridge of his nose.
She had followed the address to an unassuming house halfway back to the city, one of those bland McMansions that blend with the rest of the cookie-cutter homes where people go to rot in quiet suburbia.
There had been no one home that day, but there lived a man who threatened Collins in recent texts to make the killings look like accidents, or he would be next. But why? She had to know. Especially since this man just so happened to be close to Zed’s parents.
Mavis slipped off of the bed and made herself home on the couch.
The next morning they carpooled to work. His car unlocked with a couple of quick, short clicks and he slid into the passenger’s side.
“Did I ever say that I wanted to take it for a ride or did you read my mind about that?” she laughed, then snorted at the end.
Zed gave her an amused smile.
Her heart could have broken ribs.
“I think you told me, but I’m not sure,” he answered.
“Oh well. Let’s ride,” she said.
Mavis revved the engine. They took off down the long stretch of road. She didn’t care for how different it was from the city. The dull, empty fields of green raced by with hardly a thing in between. How much longer until the flowers bored her?
Mavis did not plan this through.
She turned the radio up slightly.
“Another victim found dead on the freeway Mike-”
The radio buzzed and crackled as Mavis quickly flipped the channel.
Electric Love by Børns drowned out the static, for the most part. The signal out here was abysmal.
“What do you like to listen to?” Mavis asked.
Zed turned a little red at the question.
“This is fine,” he said.
She grinned.
“Okay.”
Mavis had time to figure out what his favorite music was. Then she could take him back to the city with her, and they could hopefully get some better reception. Erica was sitting in her car when they pulled up next to her, with a peculiar expression as she stared at her phone.
The window was rolled down and so Zed greeted her with a hello.
“Hey,” Erica replied distantly.
She put her phone in her purse fast and stepped out of the car. Erica pushed up her glasses and gave them both a strange smile.
“I see you’re carpooling now,” she observed.
Zed shrugged.
Mavis gave her a nearly predatory grin.
“Maybe we could go for a ride sometime.”
Erica coughed.
“Well, that sounds good with all that’s…going on.”
Her hand waved in an airy manner.
Zed was a still statue, a million miles away.
He snapped back to life as Mavis looked at him.
“I’ll see you later, Mavis. Thanks for the ride,” he said.
“Yeah,” she said.
Mavis curled a lip as they walked together.
Why couldn’t she work in the same room with him? Why did it have to be Erica digging through bodies? Whatever. She still got to ride with him. Mavis made a smug humph and made her way to the morgue. It was right across from the pathology lab so it wasn’t a long walk away.
The typical clatter and chaos filled the space in which she thrived. Mavis had bigger plans, but this place would get her through the mundanity for now just fine. As she walked down to her room, she spotted two officers, one that she had met. Gram? Gramins?
The other was fat and tan with soft brown eyes.
They dipped their heads as she approached.
Mavis corked a brow.
“Hello,” she said.
“You’re Ms. Buckley, correct ma’am?” Stewart said.
Mavis looked between them awkwardly.
“Am I in trouble?”
The other laughed.
“No, but we do have a few questions,” she said.
Grant, that was her name. Her voice jogged something in Mavis. She dipped into a state of eerie calm, something which was honed over the years until Zed came along. She didn’t sweat a drop around these two, however.
Mavis hummed and conjured an easy smile.
“Yes sir, yes ma’am.”
They walked back up the stairs to a patrol car.
“Now what is all this? Am I under arrest?” she asked, affecting a high, squeaky voice as though she were alarmed.
Mavis was, deep down, but the emotion did not come through the thick walls in her mind should she need to find a clear exit out. It would be a real bummer if she missed the party because they found her out.
“Ma’am, we are questioning everyone who has come into contact with Sir Buck Collins. We have grounds to suspect that he was involved in a recent homicide,” Stewart said.
The man began to take on the same stoney appearance that Zed had, totally spaced out, as if he were in a Vietnam flashback.
They, Mavis concluded, had seen something that she wasn’t aware of. Yet they didn’t suspect her. Mavis was now truly at ease with them. In fact, this was quite the advantageous position. Collins was dead and he’d be pinned for her recent activities.
This was perfection.
She held down a grin, pleased inside like the cat that ate the canary.
Mavis got into the back of the car, the other two up front. They drove the short distance in silence to the police station.

submitted by bosandaros to redditserials [link] [comments]

2023.06.05 03:38 throwawayflapper1929 [SELL] ALL MUST GO: Chanel / Natasha Denona / Gucci / Ilia / Glossier / Charlotte Tilbury / Surratt / Westman Atelier / Diptyque / Rose Inc / Paulas Choice / Drunk Elephant / Hourglass / Lys / Dr Dennis Gross / Rare Beauty / Lawless / Kosas / Milk / Supergoop / Pat McGrath

Thanks for checking out my post! I am selling a good part of my collection and backup products. I am a reliable and trustedseller on reddit with lot of history. I APOLOGIZE FOR THE POOR FORMATTING - REDDIT IS BEING CHALLENGING
Some rules:

Free Items with purchase only.
Minimum of $30 spend before shipping. Bundles take preference.
Discounting:- Take $5 off every $80 spent ; $10 per $140 (before shipment fees)
Shipping is $6 for USPS First Class Mail, anything that is over 12 oz will need to be mailed USPS Priority Mail. The cost of that is $8 + and varies based on your location. Please be understanding about shipping costs for heavy packages. This is not under my control.
I will only wait 2 hours for a payment before moving to NIL- Paypal Goods and Services only- I live in a pet free/ smoke-free /covid free home- if no condition is listed the item is new. Feel free to ask any ?
Happy Shopping :)

BLUSH / BRONZERS: https://imgur.com/a/wpgYiPt
CHARLOTTE TILBURY Beautiful Skin Sun-Kissed Glow Cream Bronzer , Medium BNIB $32
CHARLOTTE TILBURY Blush Sex on Fire BN $25 now $22
CHANEL Blush Comete, Coral Etoile BNIB $48
CLINIQUE Cheek Pop Trio, Warm Up. Swatched. $30
DANESSA MYRIKS Colorfix Mattes, Latte, Swatched $8
GLOSSIER Cloud Paint, Storm, probably 70% left. $5.
GXVE Bronzer Contour Duo, Heat Wave. Swatched. 8.
ILIA Liquid Blush, Before Today. 80% Left. $5
LILAH B Bronzed Beauty, Used Twice. $20
KOSAS Blush Duo, Velvet Melon. Used 3x $8
KOSAS Blush Duo, 8th Muse. BNIB $10
KULFI BEAUTY Mehndi Moment Blush, Blessed Berry BN $15
MARC JACOBS lush and Libido used 3x. $10
MILK Baked Bronzer, Dazed $12 BN
PAT MCGRATH Skin Fetish Divine Blush, Nude Venus. Used Twice. $20
PIXI Honey QUartet Quad BN $7
PIXI On the Glow Bronze Rich Glow, New. $8.
PIXI On the Glow Bronze Warm Glow. Swatched. $8
SURRATT Blush La Vie En Rose $24 $20 New
WESTMAN ATELIER Peu de Soleil. Swatched. $45

BLUSH / BRONZERS / HIGHLIGHT 2: https://imgur.com/a/lighqGI

BITE Daycation Blush, Coconut Rum. Swatched. $10
CHANTECAILLE Radiance Cheek Duo, Rose. New. LE. $85
NUDESTIX Matte, Sunset Strip. Used 3x $8
ROSE INC Solar Radiance Refill, Brilliance. New. $10
PAT MCGRATH LABS Nude Venus Divine Blush and Glow Cheek Palette, Highlighter Swatched $30
SURRATT Blush Tu Mai Face Rouger Used Once $20
SURRATT Blush, Parfait, BN $25
TATA HARPER Blush, Charmed. Used 2x. $10
TAN LUXE The Face Illuminating Drops Light - Med $25
LYS Blush - Kindness. Used 3x. $8

EYE MAKEUP: https://imgur.com/a/cxlVmdW

BOBBI Brown Long Wear Eye Stick - Bone - used 2x $10
BOBBI BROWN Dual Ended Cream Shadow Stick - Golden Pink / Taupe BN $20
CHARLOTTE TILBURY Legendary Lashes Mini Mascara. $8
COLOURPOP Zodiac Shadow, Libra, Swatched. $10
KULFI Shadow - Bronze Brocade BN $15
HOURGLASS Curator Invidividual Shadow: LUX. New. $20 $10
HOURGLASS Custom Curator Palette 5 pan with 3 swatched shadows as shown $30
KULFI Zari Eyes Eye Shadow Bronze Brocade BN $12
NUDESTIX Rustic Grotto Mini New. $5
PERSEPHONE Shadows - FREE JUST PAY SHIPPING
PAT MCGRATH Eye Dolls - Rose Venus - $20
RARE BEAUTY Discovery Palette BN $16
URBAN DECAY Primer Potion, Eden, Swatched $10

EYE MAKEUP ALBUM 2 https://imgur.com/a/a08o8cC

BOBBI BROWN Long Wear Gel Eyeliner Chocolate Shimmer Swatched $15
BOBBI BROWN Dual Ended Long Wear Shadow Stick Bronze Pink / Espresso BN $15
CHANEL Les Beiges Warm Glow. BNIB $50
CHANEL Les 4 Ombres Spices BNIB $45
FENTY Mascara BNIB $10
NUDESTIX Rustic Grotto. Used Twice. $5
GLOSSIER Play Eyeliner, Disaster Class, BNIB $25
Lilah B, B Stunning Quad. Used 3x. $25
NATASHA DENONA Yucca Palette. BNIB. $48
OLAPLEX LashBond Serum. BN $35
RMS Eyelight, Sunlight, BN $15

EYE MAKEUP ALBUM 3: https://imgur.com/a/vPqDB9Y

FENTY True Neutrals Palette, missing light shade, other shades used 3x $5
HOURGLASS Curator Invidividual Shadow: ACT. New. $20 $10
RARE BEAUTY Brow Harmony Duo. Taupe. $10
GLOSSIER Boy Brow. Blonde. Used 5x. $5
GLOSSIER Lid Star, Cub. Used 3x. $8-----------------------------------------------------------------------

COMPLEXION PRODUCTS- Foundation/PowdeHighlightePrimer: https://imgur.com/a/miukwg3

CHARLOTTE TILBURY Nudegasm, Swatched $95
DIOR Face and Body Foundation, 1W, 90%+ Left. $20
FENTY Pro Filter Soft Matte Foundation Shade 175 BNIB $2
HUDA Concealer , Vanilla Swirl BN $15
LAWLESS Perfecting Setting Powder, Light, BN but a scratch (came like this) $25
KOSAS Cloud Set Powder, Comfy (has box, not shown), swatched. $20
MILK Cheek Stick, Werk, Swatched $8
OLE HENRIKSEN Banana Bright Stick, Banana $10
PAT MCGRATH Concealer Shade 5. Used 5x. $10
PAT MCGRATH Concealer Shade 6 BNIB $17
RARE Beauty Always an Optimist Powder, Deep, New. $5
RITUAL DE FILLE Highlighter, Solar Flare, Used Twice $12
SURRATT Perfectioniste Corrector Palette Shade 6. New. $3
PURLISSE BB Concealer, Fair BNIB $10
SEPHORA Best Skin Ever concealer Swatched 17.5N $5
TOWER 28 SOS Spray Used 3x $10
YENSA Super Serum Silk Foundation Fair 3 BNIB 15
YSL NEU Bare Tint Mini. Shade 5. $5

COMPLEXION ALBUM 2 https://imgur.com/a/d9Yb852

BOBBI BROWN Skin Full Cover Concealer, Warm Ivory. Swatched. $10
BY TERRY Brightening CC Serum Apricot, New. $35
BITE Changemaker Foundation. L15. Swatched. $7
COVERFX Concealer, Shade G1. Maybe 50% left? FREE
CHARLOTTE TILBURY Flawless Filter Shade 2 Swatched $25
ESTEE LAUDER Double Wear 1N1 ivory nude BNIB $25
FENTY Matchstix Mini. Sinamon. Used 3x. $5
GLOWISH Bright Light Concealer Fair Light Swatched $10
IT COSMETICS Bye Bye Undereye. Light Golden. Light Use. $8
KULFI Concealer, Rose Rush. New. $15
MAKEUP FOREVER Mist and Fix BN $20
MILK Future Fluid Concealer 3N. Swatched. $15 $10
OLE HENRIKSEN Banana Bright Stick Pumpkin BN $15
PATMCGRATH Skin Fetish Concealer L6 BNIB $17
PAT MCGRATH Skin Fetish Under Eye Powder Light $15
PIXI mind your own glow palette. $5
REM BEAUTY Sweetner Concealer. Fair 6n. Swatched. $10
0REM BEAUTY Sweetner Concealer Light 2n. Swatched. $10
SURRATT Concealer Shade 3 Swatched. $28
SURRATT Surreal Skin Foundation Wand Shade 4. Used Once. $35

COMPLEXION ALBUM 3 https://imgur.com/a/8eSagXH

ANASTASIA Pro Pencil Shade 1. Used 3x. $10
BOBBI BROWN Skin Long-Wear W-026 Warm Ivory. BNIB. $20
ESTEE LAUDER Futurist Hydra Rescue 1W1 Bone. Swatched. $15
PETER THOMAS ROTH Instant Firm Primer 30ml New $25
RARE BEAUTY Positive Light Tinted Moisturizer 20W swatched ~~$18~~ $15
GIVENCHY Prism Libre Matte W245 Used 4x, pump is finicky but works fine $20
GUCCI Luminous Matte 5ml Mini. Shade 220W. $8
GUCCI Luminous Matte Foundation 160N BNIB $45
HOURGLASS Veil Powder FS BN. $30
ILIA Super Serum Skin Tint Shade 4. Exp 5/24. $30
ROSE INC Softlight Concealer LX030 Swatched $15 $10
ROSE INC Softlight Concealer LX040 Swatched $15 $10
ROSE INC Skin Luminious Tinted Serum 040 used 3x $25
ROSE INC Sunscreen Mini. 5.
SHISEIDO Synchro Skin Radiant Lifting Foundation 160 Lace. Swatched. $22
SUPERGOOP Glow Setting Powder. BNIB $20
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

LIPS; https://imgur.com/a/Ir0bAoy

JONES ROAD Golden Shimmer Cool Gloss $10
KAJA Balmy Bento 01. $10
RMS BEAUTY Flirtation of Color Lip Palette New $20

LIPS ALBUM 2: https://imgur.com/a/5MdNdDY

CHARLOTTE TILBURY Collagen Lip Bath BNIB Refresh Rose. $20
GXVE Mini Lipstick, Original. $5
GXVE Lightweight Longwear Matte Lipstick, Tomboy. BN $10
MILK Lipstick, CREAM. Light use. FREE
RARE Beauty Lip Liner, Fun, Used once. $9

VARIOUS: Brushes / Hair / Body Care https://imgur.com/a/Ti3AHAP

CHARLOTTE TILBURY Eye Blender Brush $10
NECESSAIRE The Body Cream BN $20 (heavy)
PAT MCGRATH Concealer Brush. New. $15
SEPHORA PRO #45 brush $10
SURRATT Sculpting Brush, new. $65 now $55
SURRATT Artistique Foundation Brush, New. $60 now $50
SURRATT Artistique Concealer Brush Grande New $35 now $30
ST TROPEZ Luxe Tan Tonic Drops $25
ST TROPEZ Luxe Body Serum $20 (heavy)

HAIR ALBUM 2: https://imgur.com/a/XOUqehv

AMIKA Water Sign Hydrating Hair Oil $17 $15
DAE Monsoon Moisture Shampoo $10 heavy
GISOU Honey Infused Hair Mask 75ml BN $15
VEGAMOUR Hydr-8 Deep Moisture Repair Mask BN $30 heavy
VEGAMOUR GRO Serum BN $35

FRAGRANCE ETC https://imgur.com/a/PqiIhwF

DIPTYQUE Dancing Ovals LE Roses Candle. NEW $100
DIPTYQUE Kyoto EDT - Sprayed 3x. LE. $250
DIPTYQUE Do Son Eau de Parfum 100ml - 95% left $150
DIPTYQUE Do Son EDT 3.4 oz LE blue Bottle. $110
HENRY ROSE Queens and Monsters. BN. $75
NEST Grapefruit Mini Candle $5

-SKINCARE ALBUM 1 https://imgur.com/a/UT4JTZE*AVENE

Cleanance SPF 50 (bought in France) New exp 2025 $20
CAUDALIE Premier Cru Serum BN $60
CLARINS Total Eye Lift New. $40
DRUNK ELEPHANT Protini Cream BN $40
DR ZENOVIA Benzoyl Peroxide 5%. New. $5
FARMACY Waterless Vitamin C used 2x $10
FRESH Black Tea Advanced Age Renewal Cream BN $40
HYLAMIDE Pore Flush 95%+ Left $10
OLE HENRIKSEN Strength Trainer Cream BN $20
PIXI Nutri Eye BN $10
PEACE OUT Repairing Moisturizer BN $15
PETER THOMAS ROTH Max Vitamin D Fense SPF 50 BN $20
SUPERGOOP Glow Setting Powder BN $20
WISHFUL Yo Glow BN $15
YENSA pink Lotus peptide cream. New. $10

SKINCARE ALBUM 2 https://imgur.com/a/doHPaep

DRUNK ELEPHANT Baby Facial Used once $30
DRUNK ELEPHANT Protini Powerpeptide Serum 5ml $8
FRESH Kombucha Facial Essence BN full sz $50 (heavy)
ISLE OF PARADISE Mini Self Tanning Drops FREE (1 each)
LANEIGE Retinol Firming Cream BN $25 $20
NEOGEN Cranberry Foam Cleanser $10
DR ZENOVIA Advanced Retinol Night Repair ~~$20~~ $15
REN Limited Edition AHA Tonic. Used Once. $10
THE OUTSET Caffeine Micro Polish BN $20
SUNDAY RILEY CEO BN $45

SKINCARE ALBUM 3: https://imgur.com/a/ATUTAKv

KATE SOMMERVILLE Hydrat Kate Recharging Serum BN $35
KIEHLS Ultra Facial Cream SPF 30 BN $10
KLAIRS Freshly Juiced Vitamin Drop BN $10 exp 1/2025
KOPARI Face shield spf 30 BN $15
PEACE OUT Dark Spots Serum BN $15
THE INKEY LIST Succinic Acid Treatment BN $5
STRIVECTIN Multi Action Super C Retinol, 75% left $15
SUNDAY RILEY B Nice $40
TATA HARPER Regenerating Cleanser Mini 15ml $8
YOUTH TO THE PEOPLE Superberry Dream mask BN $30 $25 (heavy)

SKINCARE ALBUM 5 https://imgur.com/a/T1Xt9AT

CHANTECAILLE Eau de Rose 90% left. $30
DR DENNIS GROSS Vitamin C BN $55
FRESH Black Tea Overnight Mask 30ml. New. $20
FRESH Rose Mask 1 oz. New. $12
FRESH Black Tea Instant Perfecting Mask. 1 oz. new. $20
INNIS FREE Green Tea Seed Cream BN. $15 (heavy)
KORA ORGANICS Plant Stem Cell Serum $35
MARIO BADESCU Facial Spray - $5
MARIO BADESCU Brightening Eye Serum. $10
PIXI Rose essence oil - FREE
- PAULA CHOICE C5 Super Boost Cream. $20
PAULAS CHOICE Hyaluronic Acid Booster BN $20
PAULAS CHOICE 1% BHA Sensitive SKin. $25
PAULAS CHOICE Healthy Glow Invisible Sunscreen Oil. 20.
THE ORDINARY HA 60ml bottle used once. $5

SKINCARE ALBUM 6 https://imgur.com/a/viZEcDb
ALPHA H Balancing Cleanser, NEW. $20 $10

PAULAS CHOICE C5 Super Boost Eye Cream. $22
BANILA Clean it Zero BN $10
JOSIE MARAN Pineapple Enzyme Cleanser BN $15 heavy
THE ORDINARY Salicylic Acid 60ml BN $6
THE ORDINARY Multi Peptide HA Serum BN $15
SUMMER FRIDAYS Midnight Ritual Retinol BN $35
NECESSAIRE The Body Retinol BN $25 heavy
SUPERGOOP Unseen Body Sunscreen BN $25

SKINCARE ALBUM 7 https://imgur.com/a/ZmLaI8N

ALGENIST Liquid Collagen Gift Set - 10 day results kit $88 at sephora - BN $30 (heavy)
BELIF Aqua Bomb 25ml LE design. $15
CLARINS Beauty Flash Peel $20
DR DENNIS GROSS Fill and Repair Serum $45
DERMALOGICA Circular Hydration Serum MIni FREE $10
PIXI Volume Infusion Sheet Mask BN FREE
PIXI Collagen Tonic FREE (heavy)
ST TROPEZ Self Tan Whipped Mousse and mitt, new $20
JLO Booty Balm BN $20 heavy
MURAD Correct and Protect SPF 45 exp 5/24 BN $28

submitted by throwawayflapper1929 to makeupexchange [link] [comments]

2023.06.05 03:27 WholeResults199 Does bitterness and bad luck ever go away?

I used to be a confident and optimistic person. I worked since i was 15. No car? No problem. I ALWAYS found a way. Suddenly, in adulthood i started having extremely bad luck. Found out my boyfriend was married, then he knocked me out in public. Got a new bf and my sister told him I cheated. My sister fought me & pressed charges on ME! The state put a protective order (before dropping it bc she had no case) & it made my then bf hate me. I lived with him because we’d moved to NY together. He became abusive, & turns out I was pregnant but couldn’t leave him because for 9 months I only got 1 under table job interview and nobody hired me since I was straight out of college. My degree was in finance and I was in the saturated finance capital of the world with only an internship under my belt and no connections. Needless to say I never got hired . I couldn’t go to my fam because of the stupid court order. Had to abort 💔 when the case was dropped, I came home. Turns out my boyfriend was cheating. Things got better for a year. Then I had ONE one night stand & got pregnant. At this point, 2018, I’d gotten my own apartment but was still sleeping on the floor bc I couldn’t afford anything else (my ex left me all of our debt 😖). Anyway, I had no communication with my fam, no friends, no money & not even a pillow to my name even tho i had 2 jobs and the guy didn’t want the baby. I had another abortion & just wanted to die. Mid 2018, I FINALLY got on my feet. & found a “better” job. They were sexist and racist to me. The Karen tried to get me fired since my first day. I couldn’t leave the job bc I really needed it. 2020 my knees gave out & I couldn’t walk. I was 30 years old. COVID happened & I got stuck working 14 hrs a day. Then I got laid off. 2021, I could walk again. I got diagnosed with ADHD, my friends stopped talking to me. I was a victim of a hate crime and got a mini concussion. My boyfriend didn’t go see me knowing I had nobody. I was supposed to start a new job the next day and I couldn’t bc I had a black eye and swollen lip & was generally out of it. I was stressed bc unemployment hadn’t paid me for months for no reason. I was burning through my savings. Then i found out that boyfriend was cheating. My stove was leaking gas. My landlord cursed me o and would not only show up at my apartment cursing at me, but tried to throw me out over the stove leaking AND refused to fix it. I stopped getting my period due to stress. That’s when I noticed I wasn’t able to cope anymore. Anyway, I was top 2 at my job & somehow got fired anyway. I tried to run away to Miami and I got rear ended on the freeway the next day. I came back to California. Got 2 new jobs and was fired from each. I’d had another car acciden for the last job before being fired on Nov 30, 2022. The mechanic ruined my car & refused to fix it. Not even the camera worked. I caught COVID. Was alone on Christmas (December 2022), got a text that my stepdad was hospitalized. 2 minutes later, someone attempted to break into my apartment and I had nobody to call for help. I just had to hope he wouldn’t get in before the police came. He didn’t get in. A few days later my rent got raised and I realized I wouldn’t be able afford my bills or anything if I paid January rent. I also was so mentally gone at this point from stress that I couldn’t fathom having a job. I had to move back in with my parents on December 31, 2022. The next day, Jan 1, 2023, a woman at a store physically attacked me for walking into a store when apparently she wanted to be the only one to go through the doors, despite BOTH doors being wide open. I lost my mind and began idealizing death at this point. February I tried to do something nice for myself and get some highlights, the hair dresser fried my hair off. It was literally disintegrating at the slightest touch. When I asked for my money back, she told me off in front of everyone, called security, and in a rage grabbed me by my shoulder . I was so shocked and weak and broken at this point. I just asked her not to touch me and then I had a complete and severe mental breakdown in public. I cried uncontrollably and I couldn’t stop 😞. It’s now Jun 2023. Yesterday, I decided I’ve healed enough to try and step back into the world. I decided to grab dinner with an acquaintance but on my way home a truck swerved right into my car. I need to get a higher paying job but I have no references since I’m always being fired. Today, my phone has stopped charging. I need to buy a new one or fix this one even tho i just bought this refurbished one 2 months ago. Also, my body is aching from the accident, & I think I’m catching a cold or flu just from the stress. I don’t understand how this has happened to me. I’m objectively intelligent. I went to college. I am very pretty and I try to say and do the right thing always, but somehow someway I continue being crushed by life. My mom says that I’m a little negativity magnet and she’s right. There are so many things I didn’t even mention here. Just so much that if I heard someone else tell me, I wouldn’t believe it. Everyone around me is prospering financially, married with kids, being promoted, buying property. Even my evil sister met someone while in a 10 year relationship & mow that her relationship is over, she’s marrying that other guy. Who happens to be a gas station mogul and millionaire. He takes her to Dubai and gets her jewelry. Wedding in Italy etc. Meanwhile I seem to Continuously have nothing. Not a friend. Not a career . Love life is trash. Idk anyone who’s luck is as bad as mine. And so, I’d like to ask if anyone’s ever experienced this sort of luck before and do things ever get better? Does luck ever change? Will I ever be a happy beautiful person again or will I always be jaded and afraid of life from now on?

submitted by WholeResults199 to Advice [link] [comments]

2023.06.05 02:03 JonathanS223 I Faced a Bone Walker and Lived

Hey all, it’s me Frank Jones again. I wrote that post a while ago about why you shouldn’t be a paranormal investigator and a lot of you liked it. Since settling into my hideaway in the mountains, life has become quiet and I thought about checking in. The plague hit us like nothing and now that everyone is wanting to travel again, I thought to say hi. I want to say thanks to all of you who commented and gave me those weird pointy thingies this social media does. Some of you even figured out my post office box address and sent me letters. I appreciate it (and don’t do it again).
The common strain among your posts was wanting to know if I had ever encountered other things as an auditor. Of course I have but I have been reluctant to tell you because I don’t want to shine some sort of light on all of it or make it sound like some romantic adventure. It’s “pissing yourself” fear all wrapped up in a waking nightmare with a side of gory terror. I am one of the few who actually made it to retirement…if that’s what you could call this life I’m living now.
But, I have nothing else to do really. Carl only visits once in a while when he’s passing through and I cannot risk any other sort of company knowing I’ve pissed off a lot of people…and things. So, I’m back on this internet board and sharing. So many are curious, I thought maybe another story can scare you all straight. This was the first time complacency almost got me and another killed.
This story takes place somewhere in the 90s in a small New England town. It was one of those places nestled along the banks of a serene river, historic brick buildings line the winding streets, their facades adorned with weathered signs that hint at the town's seafaring heritage. A place where everything smelled like either the ocean or decaying fish. I’m not going to specifically name the town to protect the young lady that may still be living there but in the heart of the town, there’s a renowned drawbridge which stands as a testament to the place’s affinity for water. Its ancient mechanisms creak and groan when allowing vessels to pass through the calm waterway. It also had some of the best outdoor markets I had a chance to stop and check out.
I didn’t pass through this part of the country that often as my boss preferred me to do the long hauls across the country but there was a dead haul nobody wanted.I took it cause I wanted a change of scenery. I was already working as an auditor and part of a loose alliance of others who investigated and dealt with any weird things. I actually had a few monsters under my belt. I honestly had the foolhardy idea that I could handle anything out there. God, I was an idiot.
The supernatural never crossed my mind until that evening, stopping to fuel up my red 1992 Peterbilt 379 and paying for the gas with the attendant and restocking up on those beef jerky sticks and coffee.
That was when I noticed her. She was a young woman about in her mid 30s looking like one of the corporate types with the short hair cut and business suit. I would have not paid her any mind if it wasn’t for the touch of apprehension on her face as she talked on one of those new fangled bright yellow Nokia cellphones. Soft strands of chestnut hair framed her face, their gentle sway moving as she glanced around while talking on the phone. As I observed her, I couldn't help but notice the way her fingers trembled slightly, when trying to get money out of her pocket. I’ve seen that type of fear before. So, like a creep, I eavesdropped on her call.
“Yes, it happened again,” she had said as the nickels finally made it to the counter to pay for her snacks. “I could have sworn there was something outside the window near the edge of the forest….no, of course the security cameras didn’t pick up anything. They’re cheap. Ronald was a skinflint when it came to things like this. Hope he’s rotting in hell wherever he is.”
My mind began to drift away, more annoyed I couldn’t get a move on it. It sounded like a problem for the police and if anything, I was gonna tell her that. It was what she said next that made me stop and brought back the reality of the world.
“Yeah. like nine or ten feet tall. I’m thinking kids are playing around with scarecrows or something. Won’t come from the edge of the forest and when I check, I can see foot impressions and stuff. I already put in a call to the cops. They found nothing.“
“Did it sway a bit and its eyes seem to glint like a cats or owl?” I asked without thinking.
The look I got from both her and the gas attendant made me realize what I had done. Well, too late now.
“I’ll call you back,” she said quickly, eyeing me as she hung up the phone and slipped it back into her purse.
“You need me to walk you to your car, ma’am?” the attendant asked, staring at me.
Of course, I forgot that The Truck Stop Killer had only been arrested a few years before.
“I’m fine, thank you,” she said, quickly gathering her stuff and making for the door. I slapped the one hundred and seventy bucks on the counter to pay for my diesel guzzler ignoring the change and followed her out but making sure to not move in a way that caused the teenager in the station to call the cops.
“Ma’am,” I called out to her and she turned to me while hurrying up her pace.
“I’ve got pepper spray. Stay away from me.”
“The thing in the woods. You could have sworn you smelled fresh dirt like mulch and it seemed to sway back and forth like it could not keep its balance.” I threw it out there in desperation.
She froze and turned to look at me. Eying me up and down as I kept my distance and angled to head towards my truck.
“How do you know?”
“I…uh…dealt with something like that before. On a job in Canada.”
“Who are you?” she asked, looking at my faded shirt and company logo. “A trucker?”
“I moonlight as a problem solver. Like an auditor of sorts.”
“Who is it?” she demanded, eyes still affixed to me and hand in her purse.
“Better question is ‘what is it?’,” I answered.
I have learned to pick up on the contempt and disbelief from people who hadn’t seen what I have. I was already being dismissed as a whack job.
“You have tracks on your porch you have written off as animals, especially if you own a dog. If you did own a dog, it’s missing. Cops told you it ran away. You got a garden?”
“Yes,” the certainty had started to leave her voice. “A walled garden.”
“And anytime you’re in there, you feel like you’re being watched.”
At that, her hand came out of her purse empty and she approached me with the fear I had seen in her eyes now on her face.
“How did you know?”
“I’d rather not explain out here,” I said sheepishly running my hand through my sandy brown hair that only started getting flecks of gray. “But you got a…pest problem.”
“And you can do something about it? I’ve had exterminators, cops, nature lovers…even a priest.”
“None of those won’t do you any good and I don’t want to scare ya but it’s more active which is not a good sign.”
For a few moments, I could see the indecision in her eyes. The desperate want to dismiss me as a lunatic but whatever she had heard or seen won over.
“Fine. You can follow me to the house.”
“Mind if I hitch a ride?”
The woman started but then looked at my truck. “Promise. I mean you no harm. I really think you’re in danger.”
That was when I found her name was Isabelle Walker.
We left my truck in long-term parking after she told the attendant that I was a long lost relative and that’s why the change of demeanor. I don’t know if he believed her but at that point, I don’t think he cared. I left my truck with its metallic frame standing tall and proud amidst the rows of other vehicles.
I did not realize how desperate this woman was until we got going on the road. I had loaded myself in the passenger seat after pulling out my military backpack from the war which I also used for my auditing services and tried to look as harmless as a man of my stature could.
For the first fifteen minutes of the drive, her focus was on the lonely road, those beautiful eyes darting to me anytime I shifted my weight. I didn’t want to scare her so it was her that spoke first.
“What is it?”
“I really don’t know but the people in my profession call it a Bone Walker.”
The nose crinkled in disbelief.
“Halloween is not for a few more months, Mister…”
“Jones. Frank Jones.”
The James Bond reference caused her to snort in amusement.
“I don’t know what to tell ya, ma’am, except I’ve dealt with some pretty scary things out there. Normally I’m never this forward as most people try to call the cops on me or dismiss me as a lunatic. I mean, I could be a lunatic but I know what I’ve seen.”
“And that is…?”
“You know. Ghosts, vampires, werewolves. They’re real. They’re not common but real nevertheless.”
“Really?”
There was still the disbelief in Isabelle’s voice but I grew to ignore things like this.
“Sure. I mean, think of all the things you experienced and be open to alternate answers.”
Isabelle was quiet for a few minutes and then sighed. “Either you are telling the truth or you're the biggest liar and I’m a fool that’s not going to live through this night.”
“I promise,” I tried to reassure her. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
After a few more minutes and off the main highway, we approached her home. The large house stood resolute amidst the dense, ancient forest, its weathered exterior a testament to the passing of time. It was a grand structure, its imposing presence commanding attention. The sprawling estate exuded an air of mystery and faded grandeur, as if it held stories whispered through generations.
As we pulled in, the main house loomed before me, its facade adorned with intricate woodwork and worn stone. Ivy crept along the walls, weaving an emerald tapestry that hinted at the passage of years. The windows, framed by elegant yet slightly cracked panes, stared out into the world with a mixture of curiosity and melancholy.
To the side, a large shed stood detached from the main house, its weathered boards echoing tales of forgotten tools and lost endeavors. The wooden structure sagged under the weight of time, its roof covered in a patchwork quilt of moss. Inside, shadows danced amidst remnants of a bygone era, rusty equipment and dusty shelves attesting to the once-bustling activity that had long since ceased.
Not far from the shed, a family cemetery nestled amongst the ancient trees. Tombstones, adorned with intricate carvings and weathered inscriptions, dotted the landscape. The hallowed ground exuded a solemn tranquility, as if time stood still in reverence for those who rested eternally in its embrace. Wisps of fog clung to the grassy knolls, lending an ethereal quality to the sacred space.
At the far end of the property, an old walled garden stood as a testament to the house's former splendor. Once vibrant and lush, the garden now appeared overgrown and untamed. Stone paths meandered through a sea of tangled foliage, leading to hidden nooks and forgotten corners. Dilapidated stone benches, adorned with intricate carvings, sat scattered throughout the garden, silent witnesses to a time when laughter and conversation filled the air.
As I stood amidst the silence of the forest, the house, shed, cemetery, and walled garden formed a tapestry of history and mystery. They were a testament to the ebb and flow of life, the remnants of a bygone era that clung to the present. Within their weathered walls, secrets whispered and memories danced, waiting to be discovered by those who dared to venture into their enigmatic embrace.
“Great place to be haunted, huh?” she said with sarcasm. “My ex left it to me in the divorce. Was only going to be here long enough to sell it but no one wants it and my job wants me to move to this state anyway.”
“Where are you originally from?”
“California.”
“So, this is definitely a change of scenery for you,”
Isabelle only hummed back at me as she fumbled for her keys in the dying light of evening. I pulled my backpack closer to me as my eyes scanned the treeline where the shadows had begun to deepen. Nothing stood out against the silhouettes of ancient trees which was a good sign. I wasn’t too late.
Stepping through the weathered front door, I entered the interior of the old house, greeted by a mix of nostalgia and faded elegance. The air carried a hint of mustiness, a reminder of the countless years the house had to have witnessed. As my eyes adjusted to the dim light filtering through the stained-glass windows, I could make out the clash between old decor and the modern furniture Isabelle had bought.
The foyer, adorned with a worn, threadbare rug. The walls, once adorned with portraits and intricate wallpaper, now bore the markings of time's passage. The wooden banister of the grand staircase, polished with use, creaked softly under my touch as we made our way towards the living room.
Moving further into the house, I found myself in a spacious living room. Large, ornate windows which would have allowed slivers of daylight to filter through the heavy velvet curtains. The walls were adorned with faded wallpaper. An aged fireplace, its stone mantle adorned with trinkets and old photographs, served as the heart of the room.
“You want some coffee?” Isabelle asked, throwing her keys on to the coffee table. I sat down on her couch and dropped my backpack on it with a clunk.
“Sure.”
“Sugar?”
“A lot.”
The kitchen light clicked on and I heard her moving about setting up the coffee pot. The adrenalin was now pumping through me as my mind raced. I’m not going to go into a lot of detail on what a Bone Walker is but it’s a creature that usually haunts the western coast. It being so far out east was strange. I pulled out my old gun bag and unrolled it. My Stevens Model 520-30 “Trench” shotgun was the first thing I reached for as I popped open the internal pouch holding he high flash shells I was glad I packed. It was the startled sound from Isabelle that made me quickly look up.
She stood there with my coffee, eyes locked on the shotgun in my hand. I slowly held up one of the cartridges I was planning to load.
“Flash powder shotgun shells. No load. Just makes a loud noise and a bright white light. What we’re facing lives in the shadows and hates light…normally,” I had heard stories that they could strike in the day but it was extremely rare. She didn’t need to know that.
“Oh,” was her quiet response. “Do…do I need a gun?”
“You know how to use one?”
“No.”
“Then it’ll do more harm than good. You got any flashlights?”
Isabelle nodded mutely, the gravity of the situation sinking in at the array of weapons and items in my pack laid out in front of her.
“Go get them.”
While she was gone, I quickly unloaded the silver bullets out of my Makarov pistol (a gift from a Viet Cong officer and a story for another time) and placed normal 9mm rounds in the clip. I had it holstered under my jacket with the two back up clips when she returned with three cheap flashlights.
“One in your hand and one in your pocket.”
“Why?”
“In case you drop the one you are holding.”
The woman obeyed silently.
As night fell quickly around us, I slung my shotgun over my shoulder and with Isabelle close, we made our way upstairs. There were tell tale signs I needed to check as the only advantage I had over this thing was the fact it stuck to a pattern. If it was at the stage I thought it was, there would be signs.
“Which room is yours?” I asked.
Isabelle pointed to a door down the hallway across from a large window. Approaching it, I quickly shined my flashlight at the mahogany door frame. It was the glint that caught my eye. Deep gouges in the wood.
“What’s that?” she asked.
“Claw marks,” I responded. There was no use sugar coating anything now.
“This thing was in my house?” Isabelle said horrified.
“For the last few weeks now,” I said, my nose picking up the faint odor of dirt and mud.
“Why didn’t it attack me then?”
“It wasn’t time.”
“What?”
Talking was going to be the only thing to keep her focused. I had felt the world shift a bit as night fell and I needed her not to panic.
“Bone Walkers are ritualistic creatures. They are very choosy over their prey. It can take a month or two before they move in. That’s why they are so hard to catch.”
“Criteria? Like what?”
“We don’t know.”
That was the honest truth. The only reason we knew their existence and patterns was thanks to blind luck and people surviving their encounters. I showed my light around looking for other signs. Discolored stains in the corners where shadows would naturally form, healthy moss and mold that shouldn’t be there. I found a patch around her bed. She did not notice and I did not want to tell her that it probably stood over her through the night watching her sleep. The sooner I buried this thing, the better.
“Frank!”
There was a trill of terror in Isabelle’s voice and I immediately looked to where she was. The woman was standing by her bedroom window staring out at something. I quickly moved and spotted what she saw. In the forest, at the edge of the shadow cast by the moonlight was an almost, imperceptible form. It stood nine feet, hunched over like a broken scarecrow, its owl like eyes staring back at us.
“Shit,” I muttered. Thank god we had turned on the lights as we went.
It was the flash of light and the crack of thunder that heralded the arrival of the storm. The lights of this old houses flickered which caused my belly to flop a few times. My brain was on fire as I glanced back from the lightbulb to where the creature was and found it had vanished.
“Where did it go?”
I did not have time to explain as another crack of lightning caused the lights to dim. I grabbed Isabelle roughly by the arm and yanked her back down the hallway towards the living room where I had left my stuff. We barely made it to the living room when the lights dimmed low. I grasped the glow sticks out of the bag, cracked a handful and scattered them about, their bright yellow light beginning to glow. The power then went out bathing us only in the eerie glow of the emergency lighting.
As we waited in breathless anticipation, the storm struck, its wrath manifesting in torrential rain. The mansion seemed to respond, succumbing to a power outage that plunged us into an abyss of blackness only moments before.
A trill of terror coursed through me. I knew this Bone Walker thrived in darkness, using it as a cloak to conceal its malevolence. We auditors were not sure if it actually teleported or it preferred to move in pitch darkness. I just knew that the black was our biggest threat.
For a few moments, we could only hear the ragged breathing of the two of us being drowned out by the pounding rain against shingle and glass. Isabelle had wound her hand into my jacket pocket and was gripping it tightly, I could feel her shaking with terror. I kept my shotgun gripped tightly in my hand listening for the tell tale sound of its arrival.
It was the movement out of the corner of my eye and the fact her grip got tighter on my jacket. I swiftly turned on my high-powered flashlight as I spun around and the brilliant beam pierced the obscure corner of the room. No matter what I had read or seen before did not prepare me for what I saw.
It stood there in the corner, its eight foot height engulfing that section of the house. My eyes strained as it appeared the thing was struggling to stay in focus. Its arms were too long for its body, spindly and almost to the floor while the legs appeared backwards giving it a strange forward leaning look. It wore a hunter’s long coat and trousers but through the rips and tears I could make out something squirming and moving underneath. The air filled with the stench of decaying plants and diseased vegetation. Its face was covered with what looked like the remnants of a cheap bandanna but its owl-like eyes gleaned back with malevolence.
Isabelle whimpered, her fear palpable in the room and the Bone Walker lunged toward us. Even though my fear was ripping through me like an unstoppable train, I had the sense to pull the trigger of my shotgun aimed in its direction. The flash and resounding roar painted the entire room in a brilliant black and white shadow causing every corner and edge to appear thick and vivid. The creature screamed and fell to the side into the shadow not illuminated by the weapon’s fire.
Isabelle had thrown herself on the couch and was huddled there, trembling with terror, while I moved quickly to crack a few more glow sticks and toss them into the dark corners of the room. In one, I saw its foot recoil back into the kitchen where it was darker than night itself. This was quicker than I had anticipated. The plans I had been formulating on the drive were no longer viable. I wanted to lure it to where I controlled the battlefield but that was not an option anymore. This had become a cat and mouse game and I knew this was with a predator I could not even hope to understand and had years to hone.
Out of the kitchen again this thing charged forward, relentless in its pursuit, it was trying to find a way around my light barrier which only appeared to slow it down. With shaking hands, I fired several more rounds, each blast forcing the creature to retreat and the girl to scream in terror. As soon as it retreated to a dark part of the house, I turned to where the woman of the house had been. To my horror, Isabelle's fear had gotten the best of her. In that moment of panic, she darted from the safety of the light, towards the hallway and the door outside.
“Isabelle! Stop!” I yelled trying to command her back with my voice but I doubted she heard me. Between the abject horror and the relentless rain, she was going to take her chance. A chance I knew she did not have.
I only took a step when I sensed it. The musty smell of an organic landfill overwhelmed me as the form silently darted past me, its long arm clobbering me up the side of the head. The world spun as pain burst through my brain. I felt the world tilt and fall heavily to the ground, flashlight and shotgun falling away.
As I slipped in and out of consciousness, I knew I was a sitting duck for this thing. There was no way for me to stop it from ripping me to shreds like some of the corpses I had seen. As I blinked, I came to my senses and realized I was alone. How long I had actually been on the ground, I did not know.
I sat up, my head pounding and I could see the door hanging open, the wind slamming the door on its hinges and the rain soaking the hallway floor. Struggling, I found my flashlight and gun and pulled myself together.
There was a slim chance that Isabelle was still alive. I had to think. Where would it go? I ran all the stories I could think of and then it hit me. The garden. The walled garden.
I charged into the rain-soaked night. I sprinted toward the enclosed garden at the edge of the property. As I grew closer, I saw that the rusted door was open and hope flickered in my soul. As I came to a stop, I brought my flashlight up again with my shotgun and saw it.
This creature stood there in the middle of the overgrown garden, its massive clawed hand wrapped around Isabelle’s chest and holding her up. Out from under its bandanna mask, putrid vines had appeared and led up to Isabelle’s face where they were forcing their way down her throat and up her nose. I could see the wide terror in her eyes as vines were snaking their way around her waist and I did not want to think about what they were planning to do.
I brought up the shotgun again and fired. Knowing that I had distance, the flash of light caught the creature by surprise. It shrieked as it fell back. Trying desperately not to release its prey. I did not hesitate to grab the machete at my side and hack at its arm until Isabelle fell down free of it.
It’s claw swiped at me striking me on the leg and easily tearing through my pants leaving bloody lacerations but I put the weapon point blank and fired another round. I do not know if it was the flash, the combination of the creature, or that the almighty above was looking out for me, but the creature caught ablaze from the spark.
It fell back swinging wildly as the fire spread unnaturally fast catching the plants around it on fire. Within a matter of seconds, the walled garden had become ablaze with the bone walker in the center. As I ripped the vines out of Isabelle’s mouth and dragged her towards the door, I looked up to see those owl-like eyes looking at me with such abject hatred that the look stick with me today.
I honestly don’t know how we survived. I had helped Isabelle to her porch and we both passed out against our will from the sheer terror and exhaustion. We were awoken by the sound of a siren. The lights had come back on sometime in our sleep and the rain had drifted off to a comforting drizzle. The fire was still raging in the garden but contained by the ancient walls. At least two fire trucks, an ambulance and cops were flying up the private road towards us.
This entire hunt had been ill-planned and stupid. I knew it. As the cops approached with their hand on their pistols, I knew that I had allowed my own ego to get in the way. I should have taken Isabelle somewhere else until I had done a proper reconnaissance. I shouldn’t have taken her home where it was waiting. And now, the cops were looking at two thoroughly soaked humans, one a trucker with a wound and a gun and a young lady in distress. I was pretty sure I was going to go to jail.
“Isabelle?” One of the cops and his voice caused her to sit up, relief washing over her.
“Derek!” she wailed. “We were attacked! In the garden!”
Another two cops that had arrived had taken off in that direction while Derek helped the girl up and took her towards the ambulance. The other cop with a comically large mustache looked at me with keen eyes, his hand still on his pistol, sergeant stripes glowing in the light.
“Attacked?”
“Yeah,” I said, sitting up slowly and keeping my hand away from the shotgun and trying not to show the one under my jacket. “Someone came after Mrs. Walker. They were in the garden.”
The cop watched me closely but there seemed to be a recognition in his eyes.
“You by any chance Frank Jones?”
My heart jumped and I must have looked startled as the cop’s face broke into a smile. To my relief, his hand fell away from his holstered sidearm.
“I’ll take that for a yes. My guess is you don’t remember me. Clay Wilson. Santa Fe PD, about six years ago. You helped my partner with a...problem. Nellie Nelson?”
I knew the name but the face escaped me.
“She told me you helped her audit a police union building.”
“Ah, yes,” I said, remembering dealing with the wraith and the twinge in my right arm from it’s bite.
The cop looked towards the fire that was slowly being put out by the fire fighters.
“Any chance this will be one of your audits?”
“Yeah.”
He seemed to think for a few minutes and then nodded.
“Then I think you need to grab that shotgun of yours and hitch a ride with me before too many people ask questions. Whatcha think?”
I nodded. I was not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. I collected my stuff quickly from the living room and made my way back out where he was waiting. As I limped with the cop to his car, I looked towards Isabelle who was being held by the other. She gave me a look of thankfulness as the cop looked at his partner with confusion.
“Her brother’s got her,” Clay said, opening the back door for me. I was not gonna argue or fight. If he took me to jail or not.
And that was it. My leg was not as bad off as I thought and wrapped it in the back of the police car. Clay only asked where I wanted to go and he took me back to my truck. With that time, I was back on the road with that small town in the rear view mirror.
I never did find out what happened to Isabelle after that, if another creature came looking for her or if she had a chance to live in peace. I just knew that we both barely made it out alive and that was due to my own stupidity. I was furious with myself for weeks after that and told myself I wouldn’t put another person in jeopardy like that again. At least, despite my idiocy, another life was saved and another monster was put in the ground...I hoped. I never did find out if they found a body.

submitted by JonathanS223 to joinmeatthecampfire [link] [comments]

2023.06.05 00:30 Trash_Tia Camp Redwood are running out of counselors! These children ARE NOT CHILDREN. Update: our counsellors are not who they say they are.

Welcome to Camp Redwood! The feel-good camp for ALL AGES.
We toast marshmallows around the fire, tell spooky ghost stories, and hide in random secret military bunkers under the campgrounds! Because SOMETHING IS HERE WITH US.
Camp Redwood is the PERFECT PLACE for a summer getaway where we start EVERY DAY with a CAMP REDWOOD SMILE. Where our counselors disappear every five minutes, and our campers disembowel us for funsies! Did I forget to mention our littles aren’t actually eight years old, but fully grown adults?
We hope you enjoy your fucking stay!
We are also not responsible for any counselors revealing they are not who they said they are—and not who they appear to be.
...
So. There’s a LOT to tell you and not a lot of time to tell it.
Right now, I suppose you could say we are under lockdown—if that is the word. I want to go over the last several days to get you up to date. That’s all I can do right now. I can hope and pray the thing with Teddy’s voice does not get in here, and once again cry out for help—that I know is not coming. Not from the authorities, at least. But hey, if any of you fancy coming to rescue us, we’re in the middle of the Canadian wilderness. The closest rest-stop is maybe three fucking hours away. So have fun. Has it really almost been a week since I posted? Well, we’re still here!
And surprise, surprise, help is not coming. So, please excuse the salt. I am seventeen years old and I have been abandoned by the adults who were supposed to be looking after us.
Who were supposed to act under protocol if something like this happened. I know they were waiting for it—there are specific fucking guidelines on an emergency evacuation for counselors if this ever happened. But then the little shits took over before we could do anything. I guess I’ll start by letting you know that there are two of us left. (three, if we count Rowan, but I’m not). What I thought was going to be a quiet summer getaway with kids my age has turned into a nightmare.
For one, we have been cornered inside the head counselor’s underground secret bunker. If you want to know why she has a secret military bunker, I guess you should keep reading.
Because shit gets weirder than animal crackers having the power to turn adults into kids, and vice versa. When I made my first post, I thought that was it for us. I thought for sure there must have been a self-destruct somewhere—which meant whoever was running this camp was waiting for something like this. I was sure we were going to die, so after making the post, I have to admit with ya’ll—I just slept. I curled up, tried to ignore Harry and Carmel calling our names through childish laugher, and went to sleep with the thought in my head that I was completely at peace with what I had done with my life.
Sure, I was young. Seventeen years old is too young to be ripped apart by littles who are in fact grown adults. But as I was falling into slumber and allowing myself to fall, with my head resting in my lap, my head turned towards a separate pile of files on the other side of the room—I realized I really wanted to know how this was possible. There was so much I needed to know. Why did eight-year-old Eleanor Summers have a file where here birthday dated back to 1979? Why had supposedly innocent sugary snacks turned our adorable littles into mini psychopaths?
These kids were not kids, somehow. But how? How was that even possible? Could it be that the files were wrong?
1979 was definitely 45.
But Eleanor Summers couldn’t be 45 years old. I knew what 45 looked like. I knew that they thought like. They spent half of their time on Facebook laughing at outdated memes, and the other half… I don’t know, working? They have job’s! They’re happily married with kids, maybe soon grandkids! That was not Eleanor Summers. Because Eleanor Summers was most definitely eight years old. I had played several rounds of teddy-bears picnic, and spent hours reassuring her that Harry's ghost stories were in fact not real, enough times for me to know that this little kid was little—and a kid.
But something was bothering me. More than the secret military bunker, and magic age-regressing animal crackers. When I first signed up to Camp Redwood, one of the tag-lines to gain attraction had been, “Solve mysteries in the woods in the dead of night, with nothing but a flashlight and your fellow campers!” I had no idea I would be solving this thing on my own, trapped inside a bunker.
“What are you doing?” Rowan, who was still looking through Allison’s dinosaur laptop, turned to me with half lidded eyes, when I slowly got to my feet, careful not to make too much noise, and crept over to the pile of separate files which seemed to be crumbling apart from age. He kept his voice low, but it sounded almost like a whine. He could have been scared, but from the way he was sitting, cross-legged with a frowny face, I figured something must have been going on with him. The guy looked tired. More tired than normal.
The bags under his eyes were practically shadowing his face, and were an odd contrast to unusually ashy colored cheeks and slightly dilated eyes. Still though, Rowan refused to look vulnerable. I caught glimpse of Harry’s raybans sitting on his head, pinning back thick dark brown curls from falling in front of sleepy eyes. Maybe he was finally losing his cool and breaking out of the well-constructed façade he had been hiding behind since Teddy disappeared.
We had just narrowly escaped a crowd of psycho littles high on age-regressing sugary snacks who were doing who-the-fuck knows to the other counselors who had been captured, so I didn’t blame him looking like that. I guess he couldn’t look me in the eye, because in Rowan’s mind, he was the reason why this happened. He was the leader, and the camp had fallen to psychopathic little eight year olds who had taken half of the counselors hostage, and the other half—most likely taken apart in the physical sense, after what we had witnessed in Cassie’s cabin. Still though, it wasn’t Rowan’s fault. He could sit there and pull a face all he wanted, it’s not like I was going to blow up at him for getting us stuck down here. He actually saved us.
And trapped us, judging from the footsteps upstairs, Carmel and Harry still bouncing around looking for us.
It was a game in their heads. The little’s thought it was cat and mouse. Harry and Carmel were the oblivious cats prowling, while we were the mice, hoping to fucking GOD we weren’t caught and eaten. Ignoring Rowan, I glimpsed what looked like a box full of DVD’S—all of which were labelled with dates and names. I saw familiar ones, my heart racing into my throat. Phoebe. Eli. Cassandra.
Each DVD had one of the kid’s names scribbled on the front, as well as a date.
I found Eleanor’s right at the back of the box.
Eleanor Summers.
08/05/2021. (PM)
Before I could hesitate and think what I was doing, I slid the DVD into the portable player attached to the MacBook. Rowan, to my surprise, didn’t move. But he did make an acknowledging noise when the screen flickered to what looked like video footage. Peering at the screen, I found myself staring at a small white room. There was no door. Only a wooden desk and a chair, and sitting on it was a middle aged woman with dark blonde curls tied into a strict ponytail. She was wearing what looked like a prison jumpsuit.
Her eyes were eerily glued to the camera, unblinking. Her wrists were cuffed in front of her. Though from the look on her face, she saw the restraints as a game. Her eyes lit up with intrigue and I could practically see the cogs in her mind starting to turn as she struggled with them.
As soon as I saw this woman, I felt all of my nerve endings set alight. I wanted to turn the screen off, or look away. But once I was looking at the screen, I couldn’t bring myself to tear my eyes away. “Let’s try this again.” There was a woman offscreen. She sounded young. Too young to be in that kind of authority. I figured there was no way teenagers were being hired as special ops agents, but I guessed I was wrong. She cleared her throat. “It is 4:35 exactly. August 5th 2021. My name is Agent Lemrac,” she stated. “I am asking once again for you to comply with us. As I have said several times, the court are willing to lessen your sentence if you plead guilty with insanity.”
The woman surprised me with a snorting laugh. She seemed to come alive, leaning forward with animated features, her brow reaching her hairline. She was acting like a child, bouncing up and down in the seat, her lips stretching into a wider grin. “What did you just say?”
There was a pause. I could tell the woman was intentionally antagonising the interviewer.
“It means you have been legally declared insane,” the interviewer stumbled over her words slightly. “Mrs Summers, it would be in your best interest to work with us to lessen your current sentence which at the moment is standing at,” the sounds of shuffling paper crackled through the speakers. The interviewer cleared her throat again rustling paper. “Thirty six years. Without parole.”
The woman didn’t speak, only continued to smile—and the interviewer delved further into the sentence. “If you do in fact plead guilty with declared insanity, you will be sentenced to a program which is in the process of supporting and rehabilitating people with your…” she caught herself for a moment. I could tell this interviewer had a biased opinion and it was definitely showing through her interviewing style. I could hear the rapid intakes of her breath as she hurried through what seemed to be a script she was reading from. “Conditions.” She finished. “The Redwood program aims to help people exactly like you.”
Redwood? I thought.
Like… Camp Redwood?
Rowan whistled behind me. I guess I could call that a reaction. The guy was probably still in shock after seeing Café de Teddy splattered all over little Cassie’s cabin floor. I should have known those little bitches weren’t playing Operation for eight hours straight. Turning my attention from Rowan and back to the screen, the woman in the jumpsuit appeared to have changed tactics. Her expression twisted into nonchalance. She leaned back in her chair. “I am not pleading insane because I am not insane.”
“Mrs Summers—”
The woman cut her off. “I am not crazy.” She raised her hands “I am doing what needs to be done.” She leaned forward. “Humanity suffers in the skin. We age and die— and how is that fair? What if we want to see the next millennium? And the next two millennia after that? Why should our bodies dictate our lifespan? Why should we sit here and wait to rot and wither and die when we have the intelligence and mindset to do it? If nobody else is willing to throw ethics aside to take a step forwards in human evolution, I should do it myself.” She folded her arms across her chest, again, like a child. “I did what was to be done.”
“Dr. Summers.” The interviewer’s tone grew stiff. “You and your colleagues conducted illegal and unethical procedures on your family and friends—as well as four other victims.”
The woman inclined her head. “You have a daughter, am I correct? I have a son.”
“A child you killed, Dr Summers.” The interviewer retorted in a hiss which was definitely expressing emotion. She ignored the mention of her daughter, but I could tell it had rattled her to her core. Her voice had cracked. This case was close to her.
That was obvious. Without seeing the interviewer herself, I could sense how uncomfortable she was, shuffling in the chair. Every so often I would hear the sound of her rubbing her hands on her knees and tapping her shoe against the chair leg. She oozed anxiety, not just from her tone of voice, but the way the frame seemed to move with her. “Dr. Summers, you used your son in your research, along with several of his friends. This was not science.” Her voice shook. I heard her sharp inhale. Unprofessional, but very human. Instead of staying stoic and keeping to script, this agent was cracking apart. “It was murder.”
“Agent Lemrac, concentrate on the interview only.” An official voice crackled through what sounded like an intercom on screen.
“Got it.” She spoke through her teeth.
The woman was finding wounds and pressing on them. She was scanning the interviewer for vulnerabilities and preying on every insecurity. She leaned back speaking through a sigh. “Without my son’s sacrifice we wouldn’t have created an answer to death. To growing old and dying, and leaving loved ones behind.” Her voice softened into a murmur, but I didn’t trust it.
After identifying the shattering pieces of this interviewer which were very clear visible in her view, the woman was taking advantage.
“Agent Lemrac, you have a daughter. Am I correct in saying her name is Mari?
“That… that is not relevant.”
“Glioblastoma.” Dr. Summers lips curved into a sickening smile hidden behind mocking sympathy. “A sickness of the brain--which, unfortunately, I cannot fix. If your daughter’s brain was in my hands, I would try. However, not even a brand new body would help her. One which would never age or grow sick. And for that, I am deeply, deeply sorry.” She reached her cuffed hands forwards. “My condolences, Agent Lemrac. Honestly. I have to hand it to you. You are incredibly brave for coming here today and talking to me while abandoning your sick child.” She shook her head.
“Your daughter is dying of an incurable illness, suffering inside fragile skin which will break and fall apart and be unable to keep her standing for much longer. While my son will live on forever. He will see every millennia, a planet which will crumble and build itself back together. And maybe the end of the universe itself.” There was a twitch in her expression and a glitter in her eye I did not recognise. Insanity.
She was fucking insane. I was seeing the pure of it, the depraved and disgusting gleam in eyes empty of remorse and regret. This woman did not care what she had done. I could tell from the look on her face. If she had the chance, she would do this again.
But there was no way they were trying to say her cruelty and complete disregard for her son’s life was due to insanity.
“You are sick, Dr. Summers.” The interviewer said after a moment of gathering herself.
The woman shook her head with a chuckle. “I told you. I am not sick--”
“Sick in the head!” The interviewer’s voice exploded through the speakers in a shriek—a terrified cry she had been trying to hold in. I finally saw her—or at least the back of her. She was a young woman with light blonde hair falling loose on her shoulders. She was trembling. Slamming her hands down on the table, she screamed at the orange jumpsuit woman.
“You are psychologically fucked in the head! You psycho bitch! That is my sister!” She spoke through strangled sobs rattling her whole body. “Mari is my little sister. She is not my child.”
Her breaths were strangled and harboured. I noticed figures looming in the background, but she was continuing. “You killed your own fucking son,” she spat. “You are not legally insane, you are sick!” she shrieked. “You planned and put this together! You sit there and you talk about your son like he’s a… like he’s a tool! You deserve to rot. Do you hear me?” I noticed the orange jumpsuit woman was still smiling, satisfied with the interview’s reaction. Her words were spoken in a vicious poison as she leaned forward and spat directly in orange jumpsuit’s face.
“Agent Lemrac!” Whoever her superiors were—were panicking. “I told you not to turn it off. I knew this was going to happen. Can we stop the demonstration, please? Human emotions present inside an Aceville soldier are too powerful—"
Voices were murmuring in the background, and Agent Lemrac raised her hands. “I want to stop.” She choked out, her hands trembling. She spoke like she still had control over the situation and wasn’t being apprehended. “I want to stop. Do you hear me?” The interviewer was crying, I realized. “Stop the recording! I can’t do this. Oh god, I think I’m going to be sick—”
When the footage ended in a burst of static, I found myself backing away, something slimy creeping its way up my throat.
The woman in the orange jumpsuit who had murdered her son and countless others in what sounded like an attempt at playing god, was Eleanor Summers. I thought back to Teddy’s corpse, and the surgical precision of every organ’s removal. The young interviewer had mentioned colleagues of Eleanor.
Was it possible that Camp Redwood was in fact nothing more than a rehabilitation camp for murderous criminals? There was a loud bang from above, and I was torn from my thoughts.
I turned to Rowan, who had been unusually quiet. And I realized why, when I twisted around to find him three inches from my face, his laboured breath tickling my cheek.
The boy jumped back with a chuckle—like me noticing him was some kind of game, before diving back into the chair. I did notice something odd, as my thoughts spiralled. Rowan couldn’t sit still. Slumped in the leather spinning chair, he fingers tapped a rhythm on the armrests while his feet jumped up and down. In the dim light of the bunker, I glimpsed a sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead and the flesh of his neck. He looked to be… feverish—and now that I was looking at him properly, all of my attention on the boy, I noticed small things which seemed… off about him.
For one, he wasn’t coming up with a plan. Rowan always had a plan. Even if he wasn’t completely sure of it, or was completely winging it. This time though, he was strangely quiet. I found my voice when he stuck out his tongue at me. “What are you looking at?”
“Rowan.” I spoke softly, careful not to garner attention from above us where Harry and Carmel were still clamouring around, playing games. “Are you… feeling okay?” I asked, when he turned back to the laptop, manically biting his fingernails.
“I dunnnooooo, Josie! Am I feeeeeeling okaaaaaayyyyy?” He surprised me with an uncharacteristic laugh.
But I did know it.
I knew it from earlier when he reacted to Allison’s bunker and I had been too freaked out to realize that I was dragging along the enemy with me.
Because the fucking idiot had consumed animal crackers. I had seen him for myself earlier, pouring a pack into his mouth for a snack. Which meant either the ‘kids’ had intentionally dosed him with mind altering sugary snacks, or the more likely, he could not resist those preservatives which was the equivalent of caffeine. It’s not like I could blame him when he harboured the weight of an entire camp, but come on, did he really have to sacrifice his own fucking mind to keep himself awake?
Rowan wasn’t just biting. His nails. He was gnawing. Which he previously thought was a filthy habit. He had yelled at a camper for chewing on her nails a few days earlier.
Now that I was noticing it, I couldn’t… stop noticing it. The boy’s whole demeanour had changed; the way he was sinking into the chair, instead of sitting up straight like usual—- I used to call it having a stick up his ass. The boy started typing on the laptop, ignoring me. But when I watched the pattern of his fingers, he was just typing gibberish. Footsteps pounded above us, Harry and Carmel acting as the kid’s’ brainwashed foot-soldiers. Or, more likely somehow, if the animal crackers had caused the littles, or I guess, the fully grown forty year old criminals, to relapse in age-- then maybe it was possible for the same thing to happen to us. To Rowan.
I could feel myself starting to back away, but there was nowhere to run. I just slammed into a cupboard. My gaze flicked to Rowan again, who was tapping a beat on the laptop tracking pad, swaying back and forth, his eyes elsewhere before his gaze found mine. “Marcoooooo!” Harry shouted from above, giggling with Carmel.
I had to guess their mental age had to be at least 8-10 years old. Which meant I wasn’t just dealing with a camp full of forty-year-old psycho’s, I was also dealing with mentally relapsed counselors acting like toddlers.
Rowan seemed to jolt in the chair, twisting his head around, his eyes suddenly incredibly childlike and playful, and very Un-Rowan, were finding the ceiling, his mouth stretching into a smile, like he was seeing butterflies. His eyes flashed to me, and I caught a twitch in his lip. I knew that look. It was the look on my seven year old sister, who knew mom was mad at me, and wanted to make it even worse.
His cheeks were starting to blossom scarlet from what must have been the overwhelming urge to laugh. Rowan pressed his lips together and held in a breath like a hamster, and the asshole was fucking with me. Waiting for me to beat him to it by accident. Kids were fucking ruthless, but there was something terrifying about an 18 year old with a little kid’s mind.
I lifted my index to my lips, miming for him not to even try, but the boy just mimicked me, bugging out his eyes and pressing his finger to his grinning mouth. “Don’t you fucking dare.” I managed to whisper. The boy was definitely playing his own game, moving in twitching movements, baiting me. When he cupped his mouth, I almost let out a cry, but then he dropped his arms with a giggle, as if to say, “I’m just kidding!”
Slowly, I turned around, grabbed the salt I’d found in Allison’s cupboard, and a flat can of soda. Without making too much movement, I poured a handful of salt into the can. But Rowan seemed to know exactly what I was doing. Because in the time it was taking me to advance towards him with the can of salty soda, one arm shakily ready to grab hold of him, and put him into a headlock, he was cupping his mouth, all logic and everything adult, everything he had been as our leader, igniting in playful eyes, leaving me the last one standing.
“Pollloooooo!”
By the time Rowan had managed to reveal our hiding place in a spluttered laugh, I had hold of the squirming boy, one arm wrapped around his neck, my other forcing the can of soda into his mouth. I had definitely miscalculated his strength. During camp Redwood activities, he was always the last one to come back from the trail, holding his knees and panting. I figured he was unfit. However, I was wrong. Underneath his shirt, the guy had some serious muscles.
It was like attacking a brick wall. However, Rowan was mentally a kid. So, I had my intelligence and logic on my side. When it became obvious I wasn’t going to get anywhere with brute strength, I resorted to tickling him, which made him squirm, squeaking out a laugh. When he opened his mouth to yell at me to stop, I took my chance, thrusting the can into his lips and holding his nose so he swallowed it down.
“No!” His laughter turned into muffled yelling, as he batted his fists at my chest. “No, no, no! Get off, get off!”
His body convulsed as the salt did its job, causing the boy to lurch to his knees and choke up forbidden animal crackers in a gooish sludge which turned my stomach. By the time Rowan seemed half himself and half not, still kneeling, his head pressed against the floor, Harry was poking his head through the door with a goonish grin. “Found you!” He giggled, before forcing the door open, allowing Carmel and Callen, freshly caught and mentally turned into littles, to advance down the stairs with equally terrifying grins. There was something wrong with Harry’s face, and I only realized it when the guy himself was hauling me from the bunker, Carmel dragging a barely responsive Rowan. There was nothing in Harry’s expression, only blind childish excitement at winning the game. When he dragged me out of Allison’s cabin and threw me to the ground, I realized he too had insane strength I had not been expecting. But that thought quickly retracted when I was seeing his face in the light of a crescent moon lighting up the sky an eerie glow. Harry’s cheeks were puffy and swollen, his right eye way bigger than it should have been.
When he spoke, his voice was more of a lisp. This was something far more realistic than magical animal crackers fucking with his brain.
“He needs help!” I managed to choke out when Carmel wrapped jump-rope around my wrists. Next to me, Rowan was refusing to get up, still choking up salty soda, groaning into his hands. Every time Callen tried to restrain him, he hissed out like an animal.
“Do you hear me?!” I struggled violently. “Harry needs—”
BANG.
Is what it felt like. The feeling of something—what felt and sounded like a toy car—colliding with my temples, sent me onto the ground, my head spinning itself off of its axis. I remember lying on my back and frowning at the moon which almost looked like it was getting closer to me, blurring into a white ball of light—before reality sunk in, and it was in fact Carmel’s converse coming down to finish me off. I didn’t stay knocked out for long. But I did dream.
I think you can call it a dream? I was lying in bed at home; my room drowned in the dark. I was cosy, curled up in my blankets, when a clammy hand slammed over my mouth, rousing me from slumber. There were two figures in my room. They didn’t have faces. They just existed as shadows, silhouettes. Before one of them raised something above their head, and… impact.
It was the same impact as the toy car hitting me, snapping me back to that night. It wasn’t a dream. Because I remembered his clammy fingers over my mouth, and his hisses for me to shut up as he dragged me from my room.
My parents stood in front of me with expressions of sympathy. Basked in warm light, my mom and dad looked almost otherworldly. “For the best.” Was what they mouthed when my own phantom screams slammed into me. I asked them why, and they didn’t reply, allowing him to pull me further and further from what I knew, from my life as I knew it. But.. that couldn’t be real. I had memories of getting on the bus to camp Redwood. I could recall the whole journey. So, why… why was my tangled mind saying otherwise?
When I gathered myself, the first thing I realized was I was sitting down. I was outside, cool night air grazing my bare arms. There was something attached to me, jerking violently, And it took me several disorienting blinks to understand that I was tied back to back with Rowan. My head pounded, and something wet and warm dripped down my temple. Great. I could add head injury to the long list of things to worry about.
“Let me go you little fucking witch.”
Rowan was back to himself, though from the muffled hissing and the sound of choking—I had to guess he was being force-fed animal crackers.
“Let me—mpphmmm. little…. fucking… mphmmphhmhppmm!”
“Rowan.” I managed to get out in a croak. Through flickering eyes, I caught glimpse of a familiar figure dancing around us. Shivers rocketed down my spine, and I wrenched at the jump-rope restraints, but they did a surprisingly job of restraining my arms behind my back.
Eleanor was with Rowan, while Eli was knelt in front of me. Looking at him, the boy had definitely aged in the face—and I couldn’t help wondering what exactly he had done as a forty something year old to be sent to this place.
“Josie!” Rowan responded in a wail. “Josie. Wake the FUCK up.”
“Stop swearing.”
Eleanor spoke with the cold tone of her actual age.
“Oh, yeah?” Rowan spluttered. “Fuck you.” The boy’s laugh was still rough from almost vomiting his insides out from too much salt intake. “I’m sorry, you were a fucking boomer all along?!” He wriggled in the restraints, lunging forwards, which sent me backwards.
“Stop swearing, Rowan.” Was all the girl responded with calmly.
“Like I’m going to listen to you!” He sneered. “Fuck, fuck, fuckity, fucking fuck!” What are you going to do, huh? Bite me with your false teeth?” The sound of saliva hitting skin made me wince. He was pissed. I had no doubt his completely rational anger was going to get us killed. Rowan was also somehow getting mixed up between forty and eighty. Though he was unwillingly snacking on mind bending sugary goodness.
“Fudge, Rowan.” Eleanor spoke in a giggle.
“What?!”
“Say fudge. Not fuck.”
“No.”
His hiss of pain caught me off guard. I don’t know what she was doing to him, but it was hurting him.
“You fudging fudge! I’m going to fudging kill you when I get out of these fudging ropes—“ his manic cursing became a muffled yell.
“Say fudge,” Eleanor hummed, followed by his hiss when the palm of her hand skinned his cheek. “Fuck is a bad word. You even said so yourself and you’re my favourite counselor.”
He heaved out a breath.
“You fudge,” Rowan spat. “When I get out of this, I am going to fudging kill you, you fudging—” His manic ranting morphed, once again, into muffled yelling, after another fistful of animal crackers were forced into his mouth. When I risked twisting around, I could see his rebellion slowly starting to simmer out as he relaxed slightly. I wanted to yell at him to keep a clear head before cold fingers were dipping under my chin and forcing my head around where I found myself face to face with Eli.
“I like you, Josie,” he said, before untying me and pulling me to my feet. Now at the age of nine or ten, he was a lot stronger. When I tried to pull away, the cruel blade of a knife grazed my gut. I caught his grin. “But we don’t need you.” Eli pointed to Rowan.
“We just want them.”
I followed his pointer finger which went from Rowan to Harry and Carmel, who were just standing there like fucking idiots, probably awaiting the next game. Harry’s face was getting redder. It looked like he was suffocating, and yet his grin was growing wider and wider, splitting his lips apart. “Rowan Atlas.” Eleanor said, dragging him to his feet. Something was stapled to his forehead head, which caused him to howl in pain, hissing another strangled line of “Fudge”. but I couldn’t read what it was.
“Camp leader. Intelligent, and problem solving skills.”
“Harry Carlisle.” Eli nodded his head with a smile. “Quick thinker. Strong minded.”
“Carmel Locke.” Cassie spoke behind me. She had her arms folded, a wry smile on her lips. “Smarter than she makes out—- an independent learner, and can work well under pressure.”
Looking at these kids, I felt sick to my stomach. They were planning something—and had the intelligence of renowned scientists, which was what I gathered from the footage on the MacBook. “What?” was all I could hiss out, as Eli prodded the blade of the knife into my back, ushering me to walk. “What are you talking about?”
“Duh.” He spoke in a more tweeny giggle. “Like I said, Miss Josie. You’re my favorite counselor but we don’t need you, so I’m going to use you for parts.” He laughed when a shiver spiderwebbed down my spine. “See! I told you I was going to show you my collection!”
“But… what do you need them for?”
Eli pressed his index finger to his lips with a laugh before forcing me to face forwards. “That’s a secret!”
When I didn’t, or couldn’t move, he shoved me into a stumbling power-walk, and I managed to turn my head quickly, making feverish eye contact with Rowan.
“Rowan.” I said calmly through the gutter in my throat. “Get…. Get help.”
If I was going to die, I needed him to get a hold of himself and somehow alert the outside world what was going on.
“From whom, Josie?!” He wailed back—and as I was dragged away, I could once again sense the childish undertones in his voice.
I had no choice but to obey Eli’s orders. If I didn’t want a knife in my back. He took me to the main lunch cabin, which, when I set foot inside, almost sent me to my knees.
Something lurched inside me, and I was screaming with no voice, staggering backwards, only to be shoved onto my face. In front of me was what had been the lunch hall, fully converted into the beginning of a laboratory.
What had been cafeteria tables were fashioned into makeshift gurney’s and beds, and I was looking at all of the missing counselors. Yuri and Noah had been skinned completely, their faces laid out on a makeshift surgical table. Joey had been ripped open, his heart and brain removed, a glittering metallic substance creeping its way across his forehead. It was then when I remembered Eleanor Summers words.
She wanted to prevent death and preserve the human mind. Looking at what was in front of me, this was the start of it. There was equipment I had never seen before. Lily’s body was empty, carved out completely, tubes forced inside her. When I glimpsed her fingers move and begin to ball into a fist, I saw red. I saw fucking red. The exit was so close and yet Eli, fucking Eli, wielded his knife. I think that is when part of me gave up. My brain just stopped. It short circuited. Seeing my friends murdered and yet somehow being kept alive through playing god, my body slumped to the ground. I was numb. Completely numb.
I’m not sure what would have happened if those bloody saws and instruments which had been used on my friends were used on me too.
Luckily, that did not happen. Before Eli could get his slimy hands on me, he crumpled to the ground in an almost cartoon-like fashion, and standing over me was Harry. Who was looking better. When he grasped hold of me and helped me up, I only had one word. “Out.” And he was nodding, his eyes glistening as he drunk in our friends’ fate.
“How?” I managed to sputter out, when we made it out of the cabin, ducking behind a tree. Harry turned to me, motioning for me to shut up. There was a group of now ten to eleven year olds already running around, searching for what I guessed was him.
“I’m allergic to peanut butter,” Harry murmured, his grasp tightening on my wrist as he led me across the camp, the two of us stumbling.
“What, and you just magically healed?”
He didn’t respond to that, which bothered me.
“The bunker is our best shot,” I hissed out. “I think we can get in contact with someone down there.” I paused, unable to stop myself. “What makes you so important?”
“Dunno. Maybe I’m their favorite.”
When we found Allison’s cabin, which was more of a safehouse (an exposed safehouse) I found Rowan sitting on the wooden porch with his legs swinging over the side. “Rowan!” Harry groaned. I found it hard to believe their roles had been switched. Now he was the one yelling at the camp-leader. “I told you to stay inside!”
He ushered the boy inside, before barricading the door with some hefty looking equipment. I could tell from the grin on his face that our so-called leader was once again no longer himself.
I had to bite back a groan. “You’re kidding.” I said, pointing to Rowan, who buried his head in his knees and blew a raspberry. “Does he look and act like our leader right now?!”
“It’s Rowan, Josie.”
“He’s a liability.”
“He’s our friend! Wouldn’t Rowan do the same?”
Yes, he would. But. He would also realize we’re lost causes.
“Gag him with something.” I said. “If he makes any more noise, we’re dumping him.”
“He’s a kid!”
“Just the mind of one.”
I don’t know how animal crackers worked, but his age seemed to be progressively younger. This time he just sat with wide eyes watching us.
Harry almost tore apart the place looking for means of communication, before an old fashioned ringing sound made me jump.
“What was that?” Harry turned to me with his lip curled.
“How am I supposed to know?!” I hissed. “Keep looking!” But when I ducked under the table, my hands crawled under the desk, finding a wire—and attached to that, an ancient looking phone which looked straight out of a 1940’s movie, a bright green rotary phone.
Hesitantly, I answered it, lifting the phone to my ear. “Hello?”
“Did you awaken the subjects, Agent Salta?"
The voice on the other end was a woman, an oldish sounding woman with the tinge of a British accent.
“What?” I shot a look at Harry before shaking my head. “No. My name is Josie Greenfield. We’re at Camp Redwood, and we need help.”
The woman paused.
“Where is Agent Salta?” She cleared her throat. “This line is reserved for communication with agents only.”
“I don’t know who the fuck you’re talking about!" I squeaked out. “My name is Josie, and whatever is happening here, we need help!”
“Josie. Did you awaken the subjects?”
I paused after a moment, shooting Harry a look when he tried to take the phone off of me. “Yes.”
“And… are our agents unavailable?”
“I don’t understand.”
“When a health and safety breach is activated, our agents are awakened to deal with the Project Spearhead subjects if they were to ever go rogue, or become conscious enough to think. Josie, can you tell me what is in front of you? Describe it to me.”
I held my breath. Next to the hidden phone under the desk was what looked like mismatched wires, all of which had been severed. I lowered myself slowly, poking at mess. “Wires. I see… cut up wires.” I whispered. “Does this mean they know about you?”
She hummed. “Ah…That makes sense. The only way to activate our sleeper handlers would be to send out the signal. You appear to have been sabotaged. Unless activated manually, our agents cannot help you. I am sorry. They are your problem now.” The woman paused.
“If I were you, I would hope and pray they have not sabotaged the self-destruct. If you find that, then you may be able to save yourselves and find peace.” She cleared her throat. “Thank you for your service, Josie Greenfield.”
“Wait.” I managed to get out. “Wait, no! You can’t just… you can’t leave us! We need help!”
I found myself yelling at nothing when the phone went dead. The dull tone of the dead ringtone was clanging in my ears before footsteps from up above. “Fuck this.” Harry picked up a lead pipe. “They’re still little kids, right? I mean, their head must still be partly kids—- so let’s fucking beat their heads in.”
He noticed something, then, starting forwards towards the mess of files I had left earlier. Harry knelt on the ground and picked up Eli’s file, his eyes wide. But he wasn’t staring at the dates confirming the little boy’s age.
Instead, Harry pointed at the bottom of the file. “I don’t want to freak you out, Josie,” he whispered. Initially, I didn’t know what he was trying to show before I glimpsed notes scrawled at the bottom of the file, followed by a signature. “But I’m pretty sure that is my fucking writing.”
Harry was right.
I pulled the paperwork off of him, flicking through each file before turning my eyes to him. “Who the fuck are you?”
A clanging sound from above broke the tension, and whatever Harry was about to reply with was strangled in his throat. He slammed a hand over his mouth.
“Guys?”
The voice twisted me up inside, threatening to release a shriek from my mouth I had managed to clamp shut.
Teddy.
“Are you down here?” His voice was strained, and had an odd tone to it. “I can’t… I can’t see you.”
…
Can someone please tell me what the fuck is going on?! It’s been a blur of a week. We’ve managed to stay down here, surviving off of Allison’s rations. Rowan isn’t getting any better. He seems to have stopped mentally de-ageing at the age of maybe six. Harry has spent the last few days trying to get in contact with anyone, but it’s like they are IGNORING US.
I’ve been looking through everything I can find on Project Spearhead, but nothing points to Harry being involved. So. How is his signature all over the files? How is it possible that two friends I thought I knew several days ago, are now complete strangers?
Teddy keeps coming back.
He’s crying out to us.
I think he’s… in pain.
My god, I can’t stand this anymore. Please. CAMP REDWOOD NEEDS HELP.

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2023.06.05 00:27 7deadlycinderella [Star Trek] The Wrath of Berman: how 90's Trek succeeded in spite of one poisonous executive

CW: for discussion of sexual harassment and some Trek spoilers
Star Trek. Virtually every SciFi fan knows it, even if they haven’t seen it. The 60’s born franchise has had an immeasurable influence on both the genre of science fiction, and on fandom culture.
Never an enormous hit, the original series (TOS in future discussions) gathered a cult audience, who thanks to a historically significant letter-writing campaign, got the show renewed for enough seasons that it was able to be sold into syndication. Because of this, as well as the follow up animated series on Saturday mornings (TAS- despite the cheap animation, included most of the same actors from TAS as well as many of the same writers) the fandom slowly grew, reaching mainstream size in the early 80’s, leading to the theatrical movies being written and released.
Because of the film series success, in the late 80’s, Paramount green-lit a follow up series, Star Trek: The Next Generation (TNG), from original series creator Gene Roddenberry. The series was very popular among fans and earned several awards and nominations, as well as ramping up the careers of the cast, who while many were recognizable, were not yet household names (Patrick Stewart at the time was likely only considered a Shakespearean actor, and Levar Burton would be mostly recognized from Roots). This success led to multiple follow up Star Trek series overlapping through the 90’s- Star Trek Deep Space Nine (DS9), Voyager (VOY) and Enterprise (ENT) aired throughout the decade- each of the series on their own ran for seven seasons, except for Enterprise, which ran for four. 90’s Trek also had the unique attribute of a great deal of actors and crew working on it having been TOS fans in their early years. While TOS had the biggest pop culture impact of the franchise, 90’s Trek was when, along with the advent of the internet, the fandom really boomed exponentially. Most of Trek fandom now grew it’s roots in this decade. But all was not smooth sailing.
Even back in the 60’s, Trek had a tumultuous work environment behind the scenes (Not one but two actresses had affairs with series creator Roddenberry, Harlan Ellison once wrote an episode with the drama that doubtless brought to the table, etc), and this continued into the movie era, including Paramount kicking Roddenberry upstairs because of his work on the Motion Picture. Even among Trek fans, Roddenberry as a figure gives many fans mixed feelings. Some of his early edicts on Trek writing (such as no interpersonal conflict within the crew, as well as his edict of “no religion” because he was an atheist who felt humanity would grow out of religious belief, as well as strict adherence to “status quo is god”) have not aged well, as well as his impact on 90’s Trek (he hated Patrick Stewart and wanted him gone). Because of this, as well as Roddenberry’s increasing age and personal instability a Paramount executive was assigned to Trek to ensure all the usual executive and executive meddle-y things were followed: scripts were on time, directors didn’t go over budget, standards and practices were followed. This executive was Rick Berman, and throughout the decade, his actions would cause him to slowly, throughout the 00’s-10’s as more came out, making him arguably the most reviled figure in Trek fandom, entirely behind the scenes.
Early on, it was not due to untypical executive meddling. In the 90’s, TV was changing. Because of technology such as VCRs and early internet groups that encouraged tape-swapping, it was no longer completely necessary that every TV episode be solely self-contained, and many acclaimed series were playing with story arcs. However, this did not extend to Trek at first. TNG remained mostly episodic and multiple writers remarked that it was even difficult to allow the characters to change or display any development because of these restrictions (this is very apparent to modern viewers by such clunky arcs as the relationship between Riker and Troi). The famous Dominion War arc in DS9 that helped make it beloved by fans and quite influential in it’s own right, had to be fought endlessly to be allowed to continue with Berman and the execs by producer Ira Steven Behr, and the plans for a season-long VOY arc that eventually became the merely two-part Year From Hell, was vetoed by Berman not long after (a joke from a recent fan video includes the thesis that Berman was so busy ruining VOY and the TNG movies that he didn’t have enough time to ruin the end of DS9 too). This is all bog standard conservative executive stuff, but it managed to get worse.
One of the reasons TOS was so significant to 60’s audiences was because of it’s very ahead of it’s time treatment of cast diversity. While it wouldn’t be notable today, the original pilot featuring a woman as the Enterprise’s first officer and the rest of the series having both multiple female regular characters as well as multiple major characters of color was revolutionary.
This attitude of diversity did not continue into the 90’s Trek in regards to LGBTQIA+ characters. There were several episode written that dealt with issues metaphorically (one regarding an alien parasite as an AIDS metaphor, another with Wesley befriending a member of an alien species who could change sex at will), but 90% of these were vetoed out the door (the Outcast, one TNG episode that escaped this is terribly awkward to watch now- Jonathan Frakes flat out says that they should have had the courage to have Riker’s love interest in the episode played by a man). This extended to DS9 when the actors playing Garek and Dr Bashir, after several episodes laying on the HoYay extra thick because they interpreted their characters relationship as being romantic in nature (Robert Hewitt Wolf, a staff writer, has said recently on his Tumblr if the show were made now they would go for it), were told in no uncertain terms to cut it out, and the writers were instructed to stop giving them scenes together. Its easy just to dismiss this as “90’s network execs” in general, but multiple writers have recently put a name on it- this was 100% the work of Rick Berman, specifically.
An aside for the one episode of DS9 that escaped this, in which Jadzia Dax, played by Terry Farrell, encounters a former host’s (Dax is a species called a Trill symbiote- a sort of parasitic worm that moves from host to host, and hence has lived multiple full lives in different bodies) spouse and the two rekindle their feelings for each other despite their species taboo against continuing a previous host’s relationships with other hosted Trill. The fact that they are both currently hosted by women is never brought up. It featured only the sixth WLW kiss in US broadcast TV history, and in recent years, writers have confirmed Jadzia Dax as the franchise’s first pansexual character.
And Berman’s incredibly unprogressive influence continued past that, and at this point, it bled into the real world. There are multiple 90’s era stories of him being a bully to actors, such as preventing 14 year old Wil Wheaton from being able to take a movie role, and then cutting most of his role in the episode anyway, or being quite cruel to Denise Crosby on her last day of filming, but his misogyny came more and more to light as time went on.
Trek has a colored history with the actresses who work on it, spotted with stories like Grace Lee Whitney allegedly being let go from TOS after reporting a network exec who sexually assualted her, to Gates McFadden being basically fired from TNG season 2 because of a (Non-Berman) producer who disliked her rejecting his advances, before being coaxed back by Patrick Stewart for season 3 (As a fan, it wasn’t until DS9 that I felt like most of the female characters in the cast didn’t have “Girl” as one of their primary character traits). Terry Farrell’s exit from DS9, and her characters death as a result (writers have since written that they intended Jadzia to stay married to Worf and the pair to have children), was always reported to fans in the 90’s as being over contract negotiations, eventually revealed another side of Rick Berman’s influence on the franchise. Farrell has int he years since stated that Berman was absolutely vicious to her over the seasons regarding her figure, even making her get fitted for padded bras to make her more “voluptuous” for the character, as well as repeatedly making comments like “if you leave now, you’ll end up working at KMart”. Farrell, a former model, was not entirely unused to comments about her body, but she was appalled to hear them coming constantly from her boss, and also noting that the other Trek execs were never like this, and that the comments stopped when Berman was accompanied by another writer or exec. When her attempts to negotiate a contract that allowed her to drop down to guest star fell through, she left, something that must have been difficult, as like many involved in 90’s Trek, Farrell had been a fan since she was a little kid.
(Another aside- one could argue Farrell got the last laugh. Aside from being a well-liked character, she remained popular over the years at conventions, and in 2018 ended up marrying Leonard Nimoy’s son).
Farrell’s exit was one more incident among another in a long list of complaints regarding misogynistic treatment on set that has Berman’s fingerprints all over it, from Mariana Sirtis putting her foot down that she be allowed to wear a normal crew uniform on TNG instead of the one she had to wear a corset with, to Seven of Nine’s infamous catsuit on VOY to the much derided decontamination scenes in Enterprise (VOY and ENT have mostly been glossed over in this writeup- they could both have entire writeups of their own because of the amount of behind the scenes drama). Most of this came to an end when ENT ended, and while 90’s Trek has a great reputation among fans, the eventual consensus that has developed in later years is that it was in spite of Berman’s influence.
In later years, while Nu Trek (starting with Star Trek Discovery) has had more than it’s share of criticism from fans, most do seem relieved that Berman hasn’t returned and most of this criticism is in regards to writing/characters rather than the environment that the actors and writers found themselves in- this is best exemplified by several actors with negative experiences with Berman and others (including Gates McFadden, Robert Beltran and even Denise Crosby) being willing to make return appearances. Even Terry Farrell has commented that she’d love to play Jadzia again.

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2023.06.04 23:49 bteampike65 Native Instruments VST loading weird in Ableton

Got Komplete 14 standard and now the VSTs UIs are not fully loading. I have to delete the instrument and reload it and sometimes that works. If I click off screen I get access on my komplete keyboard functions. Never had this issue before any help would be appreciated! Thanks!
https://preview.redd.it/w0t5en6yn24b1.png?width=1679&format=png&auto=webp&s=25b2fbef0b4be2f693a258044c4657299ba644aa
https://preview.redd.it/l6za9n6yn24b1.png?width=1824&format=png&auto=webp&s=ec316fc1981da40aa59c59d2745a677c29a48a3b

submitted by bteampike65 to NativeInstruments [link] [comments]

2023.06.04 23:46 JulianSkies Blackriver Cases - Season 5 “Exotic Pets” - Episode 2 “Night’s Touch”

[ [FIRST] [NEXT>]
Season 5 “Exotic Pets”
Episode 2 “Night’s Touch”
He stares at her as Keya’s voice starts to slowly grow louder “I know you have people who can deal with this. This is supposed to be a priority line, as well!” her tone was still flatter than it should be, it was loud but lacked inflection giving it a false impression of cold anger.
“We have arranged previous protocols for similar situations”
“You can’t possibly be so unwise as to not be ready for nonstandard behavior”
“Please find someone with authority or at least knowledge of the situation”
“Yes I am the-”
“I am very much aware of the limitations of our deal, I am asking about a similar but new situation”
“The chief of an exterminator precinct is calling you because an endangered exotic animal requires some form of acceptable solution. I am calling you despite a clear lack of protocols in this specific situation. I am calling you because I have no real solutions and if there’s one species, one government left in this brahking galaxy that CARES it’s you so please, please give me something, ANYTHING” it was disturbing, incredibly so, to watch her inflection just waver and shift like that.
“Very well, I will put you on speakers” finally a reprieve from hearing a one-sided conversation, Keya sets down her holopad in the table at the center of the couches. Santos comes closer, still with one of the hensa snugly stuck inside his shirt while Orran slowly walks over to look, but he doesn’t sit, still holding the female protectively.
In the screen is another human, she is dressed in a very plain black suit with a necktie that’s been loosened and her short hair is disheveled. Clearly, Keya’s conversation had managed to stress her out. The dark-skinned woman scans her light blue eyes through the three visible people across from the call, her direct sight quickly stopping on the small beast in Orran’s grasp “They’re like tiny panthers” she says, softly
After a few more moments she continues “Alright, call me Janice. As I’ve told your boss” she says, presumably trying to aim her gaze at Santos, which isn’t quite possible through a video call “We might have a good solution. But that’s a maybe on the good solution, depends on if I can call on people here. And we have an okay solution, but that depends on what you’re willing to do, Mister…”
At that, the yotul recognizes it’s his turn to speak “Orran, my name is Orran”
“Mister Orran. So, here are the two possible solutions. The worst of them is to simply arrange a transfer for them to Leirn, but that is not an optimal solution. Not only would it take time, as we don’t currently have the logistic means to expedite transport in official vessels and we do not have the funds to find a quick and safe civilian willing to make the trip, we currently have no ongoing deals with the planetary government regarding fauna returns”
“I’m sure I could find a good transport to get there, ma’am.” Orran interrupts “I got them here, I can get them back if I need to”
“That might be true” the woman on the video continues, waving dismissively as she visibly slumps down on the seat “But we still have no official deals with their government regarding wildlife rescues. We have ongoing negotiations but nothing concrete, so in order to get your little fuzzballs over there we’d need to divert personnel we do not have available at the moment to secure a proper location, hopefully a wildlife shelter or similar”
“I could-” Orran tries but he’s interrupted
“Yes, you could go and uproot the entirety of your life again for the sake of those. Which is what we’d ask of you in this case, the best we could do for this worst-case scenario is some bureaucratic facilitation for your travel.” then she moves closer to the camera and puts her elbows on, presumably, the desk and rests her chin on her hands “But we might have a better solution”
“You better not be about to rope this man into some weird quasi-legal scheme” Santos interrupts “Your track record has been real spotty when dealing with anything at this scale”
Janice sighs, rubbing her eyes as she pulls a holopad off from the side “Yes, yes I know. You would fucking know wouldn’t you, Mr. Exterminator. But no, no, the plan is to take advantage of an ongoing research project to find far safer shelter right here on Venlil Prime.” she returns to her slacked pose as she brings her pad up with her, sharing her attention between the two “There’s a variety of projects researching the possible introduction of new species to this planet to increase the resilience of the biomes near the core of the habitable zone, an offshoot of the Cradle restoration research, as well as a bit of a hare-brained little project researching the feasibility of shipboard pets to increase soldier morale” she offers a hand to the camera “We can have your hensa housed in the facilities of any of such projects. This way we don’t need to redirect any voidborne assets, which as you know are all completely committed to the ongoing war, and you don’t need to give up your life here, Mr. Orran”
Santos turns to watch the yotul, who now has a contemplative look. It was always weird when he realized he could read alien expressions that well, a closed eye with the head slightly tilted the same direction and both ears flat towards the same direction read the exact same way as a human looking upwards in thought, apparently he’d grown accustomed to them very much. “And what would being housed here require, and how would they be treated”
Janice takes a deep breath, and can be seen pulling a second holopad from somewhere offscreen “IF I can make this work, and this is an if because it depends on finding a receptive project lead, for now they’d just be housed in the animal shelters those projects have for their studies. Currently the studies are only observational in how they relate to local species, with periodic medical checkups, being held in a few biome-isolation facilities. Should they prove suitable for the goals, and hell that depends on the projects being feasible to begin with, then they’ll be added to acclimated breeding programs.”
Orran looks down at the heavy female on his arms, then looks back at the screen “And should they not be?”
Janice grins “That’s the trick. At that point the UN will have taken over responsibility for them, and now they have an endangered species on hand and a million and one laws on how to treat them. So they’ll be forced to keep them in a wildlife shelter until they can be safely relocated to their natural environment. Which is something that will likely only happen after the end of the war given how bureaucracy works” then she looks down at the holopads and types something down in one of them “And if the war takes longer than that to end, I don’t think any of us will be around to worry anymore, so”
“Isn’t that a bit pessimistic” Santos adds with a raised eyebrow
“You would be, sitting here in this chair” she retorts
He looks at Orran, ultimately the choice is his, given it’s both his little creatures and his life in the line. The yotul spends a few moments thinking “Then please see what you can do. How long until we have an answer?”
“Hah!” Janice exclaims triumphantly, startling all three “I wouldn’t be in this job if I couldn’t multitask this well. I already have an answer, seems like the local fauna reintroduction project has shown interest. Can’t have only one pestkiller species in the same niche, it seems they want to have some competition to keep populations controlled or something” she still has a wide smile when she directly addresses Orran “If that project pans out, your kitties’ descendants will wind up in a competitive space with ours. But that’s for multiple generations from now, it seems. Currently, those two would wind up in an observation shelter to see how they interact with a population of voidpins as well as how they interact with terran cats. Is that acceptable or should I try to find another project?”
At that Orran laughs lightly “Ooh, nightside? That’d be perfect, most hensa are twilight creatures but nightweavers are nocturnal, that’d be the best for them” he gently caresses the feline in his arms “Hear that Lodestar? You get to have some darkness again”
Janice nods on the screen “Alright, then… Let’s see… Oh, oooh that’s convenient” she is tapping at the holopad “How much time do you need to prepare them for a trip? Would you like to come along for the handoff? CnT Freight -that’s an unfortunate name- seems to have a pickup of carbon in the next town over for us, we can have someone take advantage of the trip and come pick your kitties up”
Santos tilts his head to the side “Carbon? That might be over in Long Cliff if I remember the surrounding towns correctly. That’s almost a two hour trip”
Janice nods “Yep. I’ve sent a message to that project’s lead, they’ll get someone in our already-scheduled resource pickup trip and they’ll meet up with you. But we’re working with already existing schedules so… They should be over there in, let’s see… Fifteen hours or so” she takes a deep breath “So if that’ll be all? I got more calls in the queue”
“This will be enough” Keya’s voice is still weird
And with that the other human unceremoniously ends the call “That’ll be around three claws, Orran” Santos offers “I hope you don’t mind if we wait over here?”
The yotul is surprised, taking a step back “W-wait here? Why?”
Santos sighs “Three things. You already panicked once, and fled an entire planet over it” he gives Orran a side glance, which now that he thinks about it wouldn’t read the same for an alien would it? “Don’t want to risk you panicking again and messing yourself up”
Orran looks sheepish for a moment “Second, I want to have a look outside for some things. This place was the location of something very suspicious a few paws ago and this is the only chance I have to properly look for evidence around here” he gives the yotul a shrug “None of it is your fault, to clarify. I just want to figure out where that nixa came from”
And finally, he stands up and grabs Keya by the shoulders “And third, this woman did not sleep and is five seconds away from a mental breakdown” he lifts her off the ground with great effort, takes a couple of steps to the side and forcibly shoves her into the largest couch “And I want her to try to get a full rest before we need to deal with the delivery, because we will invariably be involved”
Despite the annoyed position of her ears and thrashing tail, Keya doesn’t move from the position she’s been put into “Santos, I’m fine”
“No you’re not, you started screaming an hour into your sleep cycle and never went back to bed. Try to get some sleep, I’ll be here” he turns over to Orran “Yes, I’m taking a bit of advantage of your situation, I’m sorry.”
If the yotul had eyebrows, he’d be raising one of them right now “I take it this isn’t a normal situation. If that’s why you need to stay around it’s fine.” he takes a deep breath “Turns out I owe her, apparently, so consider yourselves guests”
And so they waited. It did not take long for Keya to fall asleep, meanwhile Santos sat down on the couch and started fiddling with his holopad. It wasn't a random distraction, however, as he was reviewing the calls on Orran’s little project. Maybe it was just human pareidolia speaking, but something about the calls had been nagging him. It did eat at him doing this to Orran, however. The man was already stressed out enough as it was, and here he was taking complete advantage of what is essentially a hostage situation so his boss could sneak some sleep during a work shift.
As the hours passed he'd periodically get pulled out of his work as he watched Orran come and go, doing whatever his job was. Turns out an agriculturalist’s job also involves a lot of paperwork, it seems, for the man at some point had three holopads out doing who knows what, presumably data comparison. Himself, he eventually found what his instinct had been nagging him about. All of the calls on those little beasts, aside from the very first, were not made from within Blackriver. If his understanding of comms-codes in this planet was right, and if he wasn’t just seeing patterns where they did not exist, those anonymous calls were all from a number in a nearby town. But before he could start making more connections he heard something he was hoping not to hear. He hears Keya’s breath quickening.
He quickly sets down his pad and, after a bit of effort, manages to dislodge the two alien felines that had decided his lap was the correct place for a nap. Then he heads over to Keya and kneels down beside her, causing Orran to focus on him. “Don’t do anything, Orran” he instructs
“What? What’s going on?” he sounds worried, as he should be
“I was hoping she’d wake up to a normal nightmare but it seems like it’s a bad one again” he stares at his boss, whose breathing is getting faster and faster. She opens her mouth and starts making a noise.
Orran steps closer “Shouldn’t you wake her up?”
It’s now that Keya starts screaming, familiar screams of fear “No, not yet. Wake her up too early and she’s going to be in a state of panic for multiple claws.” Keya’s screams start getting worse as she grabs at the couch and digs her claws in, her legs and tail thrashing wildly as if she were running. And suddenly her creaming stops with a choked noise as she brings her hands up to her chest.
Orran takes a step back as the next stage of Keya’s nightmare makes itself manifest in her noises, a choked scream that brought a chill down his spine, a scream that was eerily reminiscent of the sounds he’d heard in an ‘instructional’ video about the greys a long time ago. “Wake her up too late and she’s not going to have any of her emotions left” the human comments, as the venlil frantically claws at her own chest.
She screams for just a little while longer, until Santos forcibly puts his hand over her chest “Boss, I’m here” he says with an authoritative voice “The only predator in this room is me, listen to my voice” he puts pressure in her chest “You’re alive, listen to me” he lowers his body closer to her “Wake up and listen”
The distressed hensa had been staring up at the venlil from the ground, emitting a low, bassy growl all this time in a sign of worry. But when Keya sits up suddenly they both run back behind Orran “I… Am awake” she says mechanically.
Santos sighs, stares at her for a while, then stands up and offers his hand. Keya ignores him and stands up, looking around the house “Cold bastard woke up this time, eh?”
Santos and Orran watch as Keya ignores the question as she looks around, eyes seemingly staring off into the distance. She finally stops “Yes” and then turns her entire body towards a small desk near the front door, and turns her head to face it.
Santos raises an eyebrow at her motion, and he notices Orran’s tail started lightly thumping on the floor and his body was shaking slightly. He’d seen people getting unnerved at the cold bastard, but he had the feeling that if he were a human right now he’d be sweating bullets. He follows the direction Keya is facing, that was such a blatantly human motion she had performed it was obvious what she intended, and sees something.
“Haven’t seen a proper paper letter in a long, long time” he comments a technical lie, a few seconds after Orran had moved to pick up said letter from the desk and shove it into a drawer. But he had already seen what Keya wanted him to.
“Y-yeah I’m… Still fond of some traditional things” the man says, still looking nervous.
He takes a deep breath. He’d already seen it, in the letter, the mark of three crossed leaves. “Alright… Me and Keya are going to go outside to check something. And when we come back, you’re going to tell me the truth, right?” he stares directly at Orran
“What do you-”
“AFTER we’re back” he interrupts “Because this is either nothing worth worrying about, or you were saved from death by the power of ignorance” but he doesn’t let Orran answer as he and Keya step out into the yard.
He looks around at the yard, already predicting this would be a difficult mission. A physical letter with a familiar symbol, Orran mentioned he had a way to bring his felines to this planet and could use it as a way out, those were carnivores as far as he knew so he had to get food somewhere, and the man had those kept in here since before humanity’s first contact so it wasn’t some cloned meat he was using.
Keya grabs his shoulder and turns him towards the shed, every house in this place has the same general structure, including the shed in the backyard. The two of them start heading over there and study it. Those are wooden windows, closed, barring any sight from the inside and the front door had a lock in it, but it was slightly ajar. He looks at Keya, who seems to not notice his stare, and then gently opens the door.
The light from the outside streams in, and the sight is somewhat heart wrenching. This was, at some point, pretty much a cat house. There were shelves along the walls with nothing in them for them animals to walk about, wooden towers and other acrobatic toys, there were plastic toys scattered around and most tellingly some bowls on the ground. He kneels beside the bowls, there’s a tiny scattering of kibble indicating which ones were likely kibble and which ones were likely water, but they were marked with the same signs as the rest of the toys and furniture, deep marks of a nixa’s claws.
“Here” Keya’s toneless voice calls him out, and as he arrives he finds the proof of what he expected. There’s a rather crude metal box sitting there, full of scratch marks and bloodstains, inspecting it closer he finds tufts of dark fur and… Fabric.
Before he can inspect closer Keya hands him something- A plastic bag “Always prepared aren’t you?” he kneels closer to look at it, it’s definitely fabric, torn fabric in fact, with a fragment of the nixa’s claw attached to it. Gingerly he puts it in the plastic bag, looking at it.
“It is not good for my mental health, but it is useful in situations like those” Keya offers, before turning to the door to leave.
Santos stands up and takes a deep breath. Those calls all came from outside, and everything’s starting to make sense. He speeds up to move ahead of Keya as they enter Orran’s house, to find the yotul sitting on a couch, seemingly staring at something but in truth his eyes were distant in thought. “Alright, Orran. The first question, where did you get food for your hensa?”
Orran nearly jumps out of his skin, before turning an eye to Santos “I… I have an offworld contact. They, uhm… They can get some stuff shipped from Leirn for me”
Santos nods, and sits beside the man. Keya, on the other hand, walks behind him and simply looms over, causing the agriculturalist to shrink “Next question. Who brought you here?”
“It… It was the same people”
He crosses his arms “I’m going to take a wild guess and say that your hensa have suddenly decided that they don’t want to leave the house anymore since a few days, I mean, paws ago, right?”
At that Orran gasps “How did you know?”
He leans back on the couch “Your little ones saved your life, just so you know. Whoever it is you’ve got your trip, and the food from… You still owe them, right? And they’re the kind that comes collect” he’s looking at the ceiling right now
“C-collect? What do you mean?” he can see Orran trembling in his periphery
“Fifty seven of the calls on your hensa were from outside town” he turns his head slightly to give Orran a side-eyed stare “And we figured out where whoever it was dropped a very angry and very hungry nightside predator a few paws ago. You know, at the same point in time where I can only imagine your little friends stopped going to their playground out back”
“Wait” Orran seems frozen “That… That was because…”
Santos shrugs “I don’t know who they are. I doubt they’d like it if you talked, so i’m not asking. I’m just going to ask, how much do you owe them?”
The yotul looks down “Five hundred and twelve thousand credits… But I’ve been paying, I swear-” he grabs at Santos’ arm
“Chill out” he takes a deep breath “None of us are related to them in any way, before you get the wrong impression”
“It should be doable” Keya has brought up her datapad, causing the other two to look up at her “It is possible that I can organize a donation drive able to reach the nearby towns. Coupled with a secondary source I have available it is plausible acquire the amount of credits to clear his debt”
Orran stands up quickly in surprise “Y-you’d do that for-”
“Those people have shown themselves capable of causing serious collateral in their attempts at punishment and have shown to be a threat to the safety of the town.” she continues with a toneless voice “You, also, are part of this town. A group capable of smuggling contraband across planets is not a group we are capable of protecting the town from, therefore, the only measure left is appeasement.” she explains like it was a lecture, causing Orran’s ears to droop.
“The condition of this aid is as follows. You will hand over that letter, as I recognize it is their method of contacting you. You will, also, follow the humans to wherever the delivery will take place and you will only return to this town once I have contacted you to do so and you have paid your debts.” she turns her head sideways to direct one of her eyes at the yotul, he takes a step back cowering from the icy stare in a way Santos could never cause “If they make any further attempts at you, they will not endanger this town”
Santos sighs “Yeah, that looks like a wise choice” he pats Orran gently on the shoulder “I know the cold bastard is a lot but that’s a good plan. We’ll help you out, get your kitties a safe new home and nobody gets hurt”
To say the mood in the residence was soured by the experience was an understatement. And yet they were forced to wait even further in the collective company, Santos gently trying to coax some unrelated small talk out of Orran for the sake of the man’s sanity while he could not keep himself from continually building up more and more stress as he watched Keya silently stare down at her datapad nearly motionless.
Ultimately, Santos breaks the stress spiral by convincing the yotul to prepare for the trip. The lack of clothing articles, he noticed, made packing very much easier than it would be for a human. But a few cleaning articles, the remaining kibble for the hensa, a carrier cage that was uncleverly hidden under the bed and a few more moments spent preparing some travel snacks and there’s a knock on the front door.
Who’s behind the door is a distressingly short little Nevok, sent as the person to pick up the hensa. It took a bit of convincing, but under the cold gaze of Keya the woman eventually relents to allow Orran to accompany his animals, just to facilitate the handoff and to ensure the team’s knowledge of them is correct.
Santos and Keya see the two off, but as they return to the car that had been waiting for them for hours, she stops him. She opens the driver’s seat and points him there, takes the back seat herself and immediately brings out her datapad. Santos looks at the strange car, bites down his lower lip in thought and sighs. There’s no use discussing with the cold bastard.
-^-
[Excerpt from the social site Bleat]
#BadParents - A thread for bad parents with unruly pups
[email protected] - Hey guys, I need some help. The guests’ kids brought some weird candy home, what do I do
[email protected] - What kinna candy, is it tasty?
[email protected] - Does it smell funny?
[email protected] - Try it, it’s real good. I think I know what it is. Your kids are gunna get real loud about it.
[email protected] - hay guys, one of the neighbors broke some of the other guys’ toys and now he has to pay it back. But i’m kinda broke, you know how dad is, so I can’t help out. Can we get a pot rolling here?
[email protected] - Oh dear, think I can just give one of my toys up to make up for it? It wouldn’t be a bother.
[email protected] - I can help out, i’d ask my pups to help out too but they haven’t been listening to me for a while.
[email protected] - Same deal but at least I can get something going, I think the guests here would be up to help.
[email protected] - Oh, oh, I think I can get my pups to help, i’ll help out too. They’ve been trying to do good!
[email protected] - Me and the pups can help out too, they’ve been behaving a lot since last time.
[email protected] - Sorry guys, gotta sit out of this one. You know why.
[email protected] - It’s fine, it’s fine. Only help if you can. And no need, [email protected], just help out with the pot.
---
What? Did you thinking smuggling a pair of little predators off a planet currently ongoing purge across the stars and keeping carnivores fed in a planet where the mere mention of that kind of food could get you killed was possible without the aid of people you don't want to cross?
Sometimes you do what you have to do.
This is the end (mostly) of the "Exotic Pets" season! Thankfully our little hensa get a proper home, and maybe their descendants might help save a planet. This isn't the last adventure involving a pet, however, but the next season "Fighting Fire" might not end quite as peacefully.
Also I know I got zero schedule, never pretended i'd ever have I know myself. But don't expect anything next week, life sure is hard.

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2023.06.04 23:15 yournailsupplier 2023'S MOST PERFECT MANICURE IS QUICKLY BECOMING CHROME DRIP NAILS.

The most glamorous manicure trend for 2023 is quickly becoming into chrome drip nails! This beautiful appearance resembles metal liquid spilling from the nail. The drip effect transforms the chrome foundation into a dynamic and getting a manicure with short nails fluid dimension, giving the nails an artistic appearance. The end effect is a captivating, brilliant gloss that reflects light and sparkles from all sides.
This manicure is not only visually appealing, but it is also highly adaptable. Chrome drip nails come in a range of hues, from the traditional silver to the striking metallic tones of gold, rose gold, and even holographic! This means that whether you want to glam up your everyday style or make a statement at a particular event, there is a look for every occasion. Here are some of our best chrome drip nail art for your enjoyment.

DRIPPING IN GLOSS

Not your typical French manicure, though! Imagine your nail tips pouring with silver, gold, or metallic blue instead of a white grin line. It's all an illusion if you're wondering how the artist created the flat painted droplets to look so realistic without utilizing building gel. To make the drips shimmer, they added accents with white polish

CHROME RAINBOW DROPS

Do you know how they create droplets with the ideal shapes? Place the color dot first, then slide it lower with a delicate brush. Using liquid chrome polish, which is available in several hues, is simple for this design. However, creating 3D chrome drip nails using building gel and chrome powder in various hues is also not difficult.

GLITTERING CHROME SLIPS

With a nail polish and brush, is it possible to draw lips? Then, it won't be difficult to imitate this appearance. The decision regarding the color scheme is the most difficult. Will you paint hot pink lips on white paper or ruby red lips on a black background?

yournailsupplier

DOUBLE FRENCH TIPS IN CHROME WITH DRIP ACCENTS

Here's a quick and stylish introduction to chrome drip nails. Don't worry if you scatter the chrome powder outside the lines. The excess sparkle will be hidden by a second color coat, which will also tidy up the manicure.

FULL OF 3D CHROME JEWELRY

This manicure is impossible to ignore. Your nails will be a fantasy story repeated over and over again for years to come between the enormous chrome drops and the sparkle.

NAILS WITH CHROME DRIP AND FOIL

Don't be content with plain, monotonous chrome nails. Although the smooth finish is alluring, you can do better. A favorite pair of damaged jeans looks like nails with chrome swirls and foil accents. People will inquire where you obtained them because they will desire them as well.

SMOOTH CHROME DRIPS

What would occur if gravity were to change or if you did your nails in space? Maybe it would resemble these metallic-swirled nails. You should how much is the nail tech course avoid the building gel if you want smooth nails. Use blooming gel in its place. After the base coat, apply it, but don't cure it. Instead, dab it with a few drops of chrome polish and watch the color develop. You could even use more colors. Apply a top coat after curing it once you're happy.

A CHROME DRIP MANICURE: Home Care Instructions

We gave some pointers on how to finish a chrome drip manicure along the process. Let's now discuss the specifics.
You must first perform a gel manicure in your preferred color. Choose wisely because the chrome effect will change depending on the base color. A white or neutral base, for instance, will produce different results than a black base.
It's time to add the chrome drip design once your base color has dried. The real fun starts from here! Paint on the chrome drip design with nail tech school cost near me either builder gel or mirror chrome gel and a nail art brush. Extra points if you include 3D texture!
After installing your chrome drips, cure them under a UV light to make sure they stay in place. Then use chrome powder in the color of your choice to polish them. You might have to apply the powder more than once because this requires some friction.
Apply a glossy top coat after using a gentle brush to remove the extra powder. And voila! You now have a gorgeous, current, chrome drip manicure.

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2023.06.04 23:04 myg2k3 To my first love

It’s like a grieving someone who isn’t dead I’ve known you for 2 1/2 years and I’m just suppose to forget you
I love you.
I love you.
Please say it back
I feel a drop in my stomach, like anxiety, like I’m waiting for something but the thing I’m waiting for I wont get back
You lied to me we promised we’d never break up.. but every says that don’t they
I can’t be your lover and I won’t be your friend
My lips are chapped, I don’t feel like showering, I don’t eat, don’t sleep, I have really noticeable bags under my eyes You caused this
I just woke up with a bit in my stomach full of anxiety and idk why
I love you so much but now I have to learn not to love you
Every time I think I’m healing I imagine you with someone else and I restart
I seen you in my dreams twice this past week.. and u only broke up with me a week ago.. how can I forget you
I haven’t eaten a single thing in a week.. why do I punish myself
If I wasn’t afraid to die I would be dead
They really mean it when they say everything reminds me of you.. I saw a street sign that said Quincy… that was the city where u left u the first time after my first trip seeing you.. I saw a building the at said fox valley something.. that’s your street name.. I ate at Cracker Barrel and in the store there was the disc air freshener thing that I bought you… when you first broke up with me my mom put on supernatural and out of all episodes the song that played was the song you first taught me on the guitar.. and when I went to the gas station my head snapped back at the liquid death.. your favorite water.. so stupid but everything does truly remind me of you
Mt friend was singing fireflies.. I hate that song and you use to torture me with that song all the time.. fun times huh
I know we’re apart but u couldn’t say happy birthday? I’m 20 now
I’m sitting outside of this motel sobbing when I’m on vacation to distract myself from thinking of you
I blocked you on everything and finally built the courage to delete every picture I could find of you…. About 2,000 didn’t think I would do it so soon but I can’t even see you any longer.. no matter in what form.. I love you.. you were my soulmate.. whoever you move onto, they’ll be so lucky..but.. goodbye

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2023.06.04 22:54 myg2k3 To my first love(just writing my thoughts)

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