French braid 4c hair

ALWAYS ALWAYS ALWAYS has my guardian dismissed my feelings and opinions. Like we have a Disneyland trip I didn't want to go but she said I had to, my grandmother was pissed when she found out I didn't want to go and my gaurdian made me go. She always acts like I'm not allowed to have an opinion, likes to control the way I act, when people ask me about something I like or want and I say it she always says that it'll change and not to listen to it basically. Today I said when she allows me to do what I want with my air (she controls the way I dress and how I style my hair) I want to cut it because its to much to manage and I HATE having braids (I'm half black) and she said when I get older that I will want my hair braided and I will want it long which I can GUARANTEE will not be the case I know I'll be way to lazy to keep it well maintained and so again I tried to say no that I WILL still want to cut my hair because I will not want braids I hate having them and hate how I look in them (I look like a Chihuahua on crack) and I cannot maintain it, she again stated that I was wrong and she was right and I ended up crying because I was at my breaking point however I was able to keep a straight face and quietly cry 👍 I did express how I felt later and she again dismissed what I said and tried to say she didn't actually say that like she always does so yeah 🙂 I'm writing this dreading the 6-7 maybe 8 considering the storms, hour drive. Not to mention she dismissed my feelings and opinions earlier before this situation too (today). Wish me good luck on the drive.

I’ve always wanted to try either, ever since the grunge scene in the 90’s but mum wouldn’t let me back then. I’d love to get braids with colourful fake hair braid extensions(It wouldn’t be corn rows) Or maybe fake dreads extensions because my hair is probably too fine. But my biggest worry is offending people or getting told off by strangers for wearing them. Thoughts?

Someone I'm close to works at a secondary school in the UK (I'm being deliberately vague to try to protect their identity - you'll see why). There are multiple things that happen there which make me want to sound the alarm, but I don't know to whom or how, or whether it's not my place at all.
Here's what I know:
The school offrolled over half the students on a trip to a local university when Ofsted turned up.
The head shrieked at a year 8 girl and sent her to isolation for having a hair bobble on her wrist for maybe a minute while she was retying her hair.
The head routinely shrieks (and I use that word advisedly) at random staff members who are in the wrong place at the wrong time, sometimes in front of the children.
Staff who have time off sick (except SLT) are harassed by phone then made to attend 'informal' meeting because 6 days off sick in 6 months is 'cause for concern'.
A teacher was once seriously assaulted by two students and was off work for two days - they harassed her into coming back, and the students only got a one day exclusion. Contrast: a girl once swore at the head and was suspended for a week.
A teacher once collapsed in her class and the head and deputy wouldn't let her go home.
A member of support staff had severe COVID to the point he couldn't breathe, they didn't let him go home and even made him teach a cover lesson.
A child collapsed and the deputy head only agreed to send her home because she was told by the first aider 'send her home now or call an ambulance later: your choice.'
One member of staff who is not QTS is made to teach up to 22 cover lessons a week. Other members of non QTS staff are also made to teach cover lessons. On their own, with no support.
SLT once devised a 'nurture group' of the most challenging kids in the school and promised their parents that they would be taught by the best teachers in the school and always have a member of SLT present. They were babysat by the librarian, the food tech TA, a general TA, and two ECTs, often alone and without support.
The 22/week cover member of non-QTS staff regularly teaches a year 9 French class and was shuffled out of the way on a school trip when inspectors turned up so they didn't see.
There are so many pointless meetings organised during the day by the head that many classes in the school are just cover work.
So many staff have been forced to quit (some the profession entirely) by the behaviour of senior management. The high staff turnover means the children have even more covers - especially in English, a core subject.
One head of year is not being paid (the rate she should be paid, just as a regular teacher).
One head of department isn't being paid (as a HoD).
Two other members of staff have not received any pay for their additional duties (TLRs) to which they were appointed at the beginning of January.
The head and deputy head have attempted to identify who called in a union rep and victimised all those they suspected.
The children are not allowed outside - this is not a joke. They are chaperoned by their teachers to break and lunch, which must be conducted in designated indoor areas.
One teacher attempted to raise this gently with the head and was shrieked at in front of the entire staff body.
One of the assistant heads claims to have a PhD he completed in 3 months - he doesn't, though he's clever enough not to use the title Dr anywhere. He is also a pathological liar and has forged documents pertaining to the training of another teacher (said teacher apparently does not know this, but my source does).
Funds which were supposedly available for one area of the budget (not revealing to protect source) which evaporated when enquired about. There is a strong suggestion the head diverted them (not to herself, to a pointless Easter display, but away from a moderately important part of the budget, c.£10,000).
These are the examples I can bring to mind right now. I can't sleep (it's 04.00) because my connection has told me that the head is going to two interviews at other schools.
My contact is fine with this because it means the head goes and the school gets a chance to recover. But if she goes somewhere else she takes the problem with her and messes up the education of more children. I went to a school like this and it ruined me mentally, how can I sit by and say nothing? On the other hand, if I say anything I risk causing serious problems for my loved one and (potentially) irrevocably damaging our relationship. It's why I've thought long and hard about even this post.
Add to this, I know there has been corruption between the school and Ofsted in the past - the person who put them on special measures went to work for the academy trust and now they have good overall and outstanding for management (somehow). Even if that is no longer the case, because of all the current turmoil over Ofsted, they may be disinclined to do anything anyway. The head also seems to have a contact with our local BBC station - they've filmed with her before and there are plans to do so again. I can't go to my contact's union because I'm not a member.
My contact has directly told me not to do or say anything, but I feel torn between them and my love for them on the one hand, and my sense of justice and concern for other children having their lives ruined on the other.
What should I do?

Anyone know how to fix dark neck, armpits, knees, and ankles? If so I’m open to all suggestions and advice.
Also looking to grow my 4c hair out and maintain health so any advice on that would be highly appreciated!!

Hey y’all, I’d appreciate if only black people answer this question. :)
My bf has been growing his hair out for a while & he’s always said he thinks cornrows would look good on him, even before he started growing it out. His hair is now just long enough to put in two secure french braids. He says he wants me to learn how to do cornrows so I can do them for him (I’m a white woman). I’d be happy to learn to do it for him (or at least try) but I definitely don’t want him or I to be participating in appropriation of black culture or damage his hair. I’ve seen different opinions from black creators on tiktok & other platforms about non-black people wearing cornrows so I just wanted to see what the general consensus was. He has thick, coarse, straight hair.
Thanks!
(edited for typo)

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What was wrought here should be allowed to slip into slumber and sleep a dreamless sleep until entropy sips it away. - Former Grand Most High Sma'akamo'o, from I Have Ridden the Hasslehoff
Nice little mitochondria you got there, Biology.
Be a shame if something happened to it… - Terran Descent Humanity
The Dairy Queen is one of the Hamburger King's brides. A gift of tribute from The Mapleland Empire to the bloody tyrant of the Hamburger Kingdom. Her heart was cold but sweet and the Hamburger King put her in charge of the blizzards and winter storms of the Hamburger Kingdom.
The Dairy Queen is adored by Terrans everywhere, celebrated in song and dance, even through the worst winter storms. She is often depicted by carving ice into her likeness. She is shown smiling, dressed in finery made of frost and snow, and is known for her singing voice. She is often seen moving through storms and blizzards, her voice uplifted in song despite the chill.
The cold never bothered her anyway. - The Myths & Legends of Terra
We do not know who they were, only that they were here. They left behind great works, impossible machinery that once labored for unknowable purpose.
We know these Forerunners only as The Builders. - Kretark Press, 3285 Current Era
You don't get to judge the Devil and the War in Hell from the comfort of Heaven. - Doctor Jachike Pascel, Sailor Moon Sisterhood Project Decommissioning Commander AKA The Grave Watcher, 38 PG
The stellar system was repeated all over the universe. An energetic young star, a few gas giants, a debris ring, and barren rocky planets in various orbits. The number of planets and gas giants didn't matter, they were all virtually the same.
This one was in the middle of the Cygnus-Orion Galactic Arm Spur.
In the middle of what was known to the species capable of space travel as "The Long Dark." A band across the entire section of the spur that was barren of all life, with many of the stellar systems reduced to nothing but scattered gravel where planets once were, smears of gases from where gas giants had once been, and a single stellar mass.
This stellar system had not been reduced to gravel and wisps of gasses, but rather still had the few rocky planets and the trio of gas giants. The star was young, highly energetic, burning away merrily in a stellar signal that it existed. It was not alone, it had a brother, that it danced around in a slow twisting pattern, and they both burned with merry fire.
It had been like that for millions of years.
At one time there had been life. Not much, just a few simple algae and fungus, a few multicelled organisms. Not much, but the beginning of life.
But unliving things destroyed that life, leaving behind long life radiation, siphoning away water and atmosphere both.
The binary stars felt a slight bit of sadness at that, in the strange way inanimate balls of burning gasses could feel sadness.
Something new had arrived.
It was strange, and different.
The stars were dimly curious, watching the newcomers.
There were ten figures within a two light seconds of the binary stars, positioned in such a way that the polar stellar winds of both stars merged and washed over them. Several of them were terribly scarred, their faces and bodies mutely proclaiming that they had been severely injured, almost maimed, in the past. Despite their disfigurement and scarring they, like the unmarred, were inhuman in their perfection.
They were dressed strangely. Short skirts, leggings, short sleeve tops with bows on the front. They all held wands and blades, they all had long flowing hair. Behind them extended gauzy fields of whitish that reached out thousands of kilometers but did not block or cover any of the others. They looked vaguely wing-like, pearlescent energy that gathered in the stellar winds.
Resting in space, they were in the fetal position, their eyes closed, their hands tight around their weapons and wands.
They stayed that way for long days, asleep in a deep dreamless sleep.
They had sent out the call, and now waited on the one they had summoned.
A puff of purple particles, almost smoke-like, appeared above polar-north between the two binary stars. When it cleared a single figure stood in space as if it was standing on a flat surface. Ebony of skin, with long flowing white hair. Her face was haughty and cruel. She was dressed in scant wires of esoteric spooky particle metals that emulated the look of spiderwebs that only covered enough of her to hide her genitals and the nipples on the prominent mammaries.
She surveyed the worlds and gas giants slowly, her eyes full of a cold silver light.
She looked beyond the now into what had been.
Her lip curled in disgust at one point and she reached out her hand. Chronotrons and other esoteric particles flowed into her hand, slowly taking the shape of a bright red apple.
It crunched, despite there being no sound in space, when she took a large bite from it. She chewed the bite, looking over the planets.
When she was done with the apple, she streaked into motion, moving an appreciable fraction of the speed of light, until she was in front of the sleeping girls.
One, her bangs forming a heart on the pale skin of her forehead, woke slowly, stretching and yawning as she did so.
The onyx woman merely waited.
She was old, but the child was even older.
She was feared, but the child was legend made flesh.
She was fearsome in her power, but the child was terrible in her joy.
They were sisters. Two sides of the same dark and bloody coin.
The child smiled at the onyx woman, who merely nodded dispassionately. The child waved at the system with one hand, the wand she tightly grasped leaving behind a trail of glitter.
In the glitter could be seen living planets. Some with hellish atmospheres where burning carbon ash rained from the sky, others with life giving oceans, and still others with iron oxide sands that teamed with microbial life.
The onyx woman looked back over the system slowly, then turned and looked at the two stellar masses with more than just her eyes. After a moment she turned to the young girl and nodded.
At an unseen signal the other young girls slowly woke. They gave the impression of happiness and joy even as they held tight to terrible weapons.
The onyx woman kept looking at the planets. At what would need to be done. Which zone each planet occupied.
To merely cover them with life would not do. That was for a Genysys Device or a G.E.C.K, which were simple toys compared to her obsidian majesty.
She held out her arms at a 45 degree angle to her body, threw her head back, and vocalized a single note that resonated in the coronas of the two stars.
Behind her appeared a dozen females of her species, none as beautiful or well endowed as she was, clad in more clothing, all reclining on furniture made of pale white energy. She snapped her fingers and two dozen males appeared, all dressed in black leather, pants and vests, with heavy boots, all carrying swords made of a dark purple metal that glittered in the light of the stars.
Another snap and an orchestra appeared, all of black onyx and obsidian that breathed in the stellar vacuum of space.
The band began to play, and the males began to dance with wild abandon.
She joined them, her voice upraised, as the girls all watched and added their power to hers.
Reaching out, she lifted mass from the stars, a process known as star lifting, optimizing and extending the binary stars's energy output and lifespan.
To the two stars it tickled and their giggles rippled the stellar winds.
As she danced, runes and glimmers of light streamed from her fingers, speeding out to wrap around the planets.
The planets were swallowed by golden energy.
Still she danced and sang in the darkness.
On the planets, new bedrock was laid, planetary cores were repaired and spun up to restore the magnetic field. Atmosphere was laid, then oceans. Fossil records and geological records of asteroid impacts were applied. The rude organisms that had been wiped out were extrapolated and laid into the bedrock as fossils.
Sixty-five million years of history was laid into the bedrock.
The tiny multi-celled organisms were extrapolated into more complex forms. The skeletons and evidence of those life forms were embedded into the fossil record. Weather formed and erosion was built into the mountains that suddenly thrust there way from the planetary crust.
Higher organisms were laid in. A fossil record, a record of tool use, migration patterns, all were laid down.
The energy cleared, to reveal a single planet bearing life. The other two had failed, existing inside the amber zone.
But they left behind fossil records and scant fungus and microbial life.
The creatures on the single life bearing planet began to move around, began to live lives programmed into their very genetic code. Crude housing and primitive culture was laid down.
And then it was done.
The male dancers slowed their wild dance, bowed once to the watching girls, and vanished.
The band rippled and vanished.
The reclining beings of onyx and silver vanished.
Only the onyx woman remained, her skin glittering with sweat.
She bowed to the girls.
And vanished.
The girls looked over the stellar system and nodded to one another.
It had been restored.
They held still a moment, contemplating, before moving.
They sped forward and vanished in bright silver streaks.
The binary stars agreed that they had witnessed something interesting.
Then they returned to their dance with one another.
On the planet, a species that had been extinguished before it even had a chance to exist began to go about its business as if there had never been an interruption marked by the scream of "ALL BELONGS TO THE HIVE!"
-----
Space was empty with the exception of a small bit of dark matter the size of a coin.
It wasn't dark matter as many races knew it, it was transparent to most scanning systems. A tiny bit of proto-matter that the universe used to heal up tears and scrapes that were just part of the growing pains of a youthful universe.
There was a sudden flash and ten young Terran girls appeared. The leader lifted her voice in song within the vacuum of space.
A single note answered.
They waited, patiently.
The tiny bit of dark matter began to spread out as more and more dark matter began to gush from the tiny bit. Soon, there was a patch of dark matter nearly two kilometers wide, even if it was only a few molecules thick.
A massive black warship slid from inside the dark matter. The thick warsteel armor was covered with beads of the dark matter, like a cold can on a hot humid day. The weapons were cold and dark, offline and silent. The engines burned with a purple light
Code streamed from the massive black warship, bathing the ten figures.
Their eyes closed and their bodies relaxed. They slowly curled into the fetal position.
From the warship came small craft. Ten of them. One by one, each of the figures were gathered up by the small craft, pulled inside. The craft then remained motionless until the last was gathered up and a period of stillness followed.
Code packets were exchanged between the gathering ships and the massive warship.
The little ships swept back to the warship.
The dark matter shivered and rippled and a vast door rose up out of the dark matter, the proto-matter streaming off the face of the doors like water. The sheer size and mass of the doors hinted at something large, something ominous, something terrible deeper in the dark matter.
The doors opened and the warship vanished inside.
-----
The Obelisk AKA Black Box 536169-6c6f72-204d6f6f6e.
Inside were machines of ancient and strange purpose, built to continue working for millions of years. Bulky robots carried out maintenance tasks to ensure the life of The Obelisk.
Through the dark halls moved The Grave Watcher. Heavy of muscle and bone, ancient and crude cybernetics attached to flesh that neither aged nor mortified.
He served the Digital Omnimessian and all of humanity through his works.
At long last he came to a simple chamber.
A cryo-tube sat in the middle of the far wall, covered in frost. Beside it, extended from the wall, were drawers where strange implements sat in custom fitted cushioned slots.
The Grave Walker moved up and rubbed the frost from the capsule.
Inside was a teenage Terran Descent Humanity immature female who was beautiful even in sleep. Her large blue eyes were closed, the long lashes touching her cheeks. Her blonde hair was pulled into a tight braid and wound under a cryosleep cap, but the gap in the middle of the cap showed how her bangs looked like a heart. Her flawless arms and legs were longer than normal, somehow making her aesthetically pleasing instead of freakish. She had a button nose and a cupid's bow mouth, a flawless complexion, and even in sleep she looked as if she was full of joy.
She was inhuman in her perfection.
The Grave Watcher ran through the context menus then, satisfied with the readouts, turned away.
The extended drawer was covered with a clear armaglass panel that showed what was beyond, held in a black warsteel frame. Jewelry, clothing, shoes. He checked the inventory list that scrolled by with cold amber light to the contents, examining phasic and energy levels.
Satisfied, he turned away, moving to the doorway. He reached out and pressed a heavy button.
The cryo-pod hissed and pulled up into the wall. The drawers pulled into the wall. The floor of the room vanished as mist rose to knee height.
He turned away, moving through the door, locking it once it closed after him. A blast door lowered and he ensured that one was locked with a molecular bonding system.
The Grave Watcher made his way to the central control room.
Inside stood a Terran woman of indeterminate age. She wore a black suit, her black hair was in a short cut, and her face was cold and hard, her gun-metal gray eyes unreadable.
The Grave Watcher moved to the pedestal in the middle of the room.
He placed his hand on the top of the pedestal. Data streamed by beneath his hand. Finally, only two words remained.
He stepped back and motioned to the Terran female.
She stepped up and looked down.
DEACTIVATE PROJECT?
She pressed a single icon.
YES
The Grave Watcher escorted her from The Obelisk. Boarding his own grim ship as she boarded hers.
He watched as her ship slipped through the narrowing gap of the slowly receding proto-matter pool in realspace.
Once she was gone, he sat down on a command chair that was more a throne than a chair.
The atmosphere pumped out of the bridge, leaving him sitting in cold vacuum.
He stared at the small pinpoint of dark matter with frost covered eyes.
And waited.
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Help Please
Hey all. I have a request.
I am visiting a young woman and her daughter who live in Ecuador in a few months, and she has very curly African hair. She asked the last time I visited, she if I knew how to do hair and... well, I am white with straight hair, so I had no clue how to help with hers, and I don't want to screw it up. She had her baby young, and I don't know much, but I know she hasn't had her folks around. The area they live in doesn't have any braid shops and probably very limited access to black hair products. I'd say most people are South American with thick, straight hair here.
Would any of you ladies of color be willing to point me in the direction of good products or helpful tutorials?
I know how important feeling great about your hair can be and what a large part of African culture that is. I'd love to help her with this and maybe even pass along knowledge so she can teach her daughter.
Thanks

So I have 4c hair and I’m looking for tips to make it look better. Like I look at white people’s hair and they are able to style it and make it look good and can I do that for 4c hair?. Like what can I do to make it look good and not rough or dry or just terrible. Like can I style it? What am I not doing? I need help cuz I feel like my hair looks bad most of the time idk.

For me, I struggle with my hair a lot I had times in the past where I would dye it style it to always braids ,even damage out my edges and then I finally got a big chop and I had it in braids for a while. What can I do to it how do I take care of it? it’s short it doesn’t really have a curl pattern.? I don’t know how many times am I supposed to moisturize it or oil it or how long do I wait to wash it mainly I’m a big girl and it makes me look like a dude haha I even puff it out to a Afro it have a decent look
I have products like Mielle,oils,shampoos all the good stuff just ashamed it won’t grow

Hi all! I am a counselor at a residential treatment facility for at-risk youth, which allows me the opportunity to take care of and supervise them during and after school.
I watch over 8-12 year old girls, many of whom have Type 4 hair. Several of my curly girlies are great at styling because they practice on mannequins during their free time. However, they are not really allowed to do each other’s hair due to safety concerns.
I’m a curly girl myself with 3B/2C hair, so while I understand hair care for straight hair and less curly hair types like mine, I don’t have much experience with Type 4 hair.
Does anyone have advice for learning how to maintain, style and take care of Type 4 hair?

A friend of mine is getting married this October on long island and is having a hard time finding a hair stylist who has a portfolio of diverse clientele. Her bridesmaids are white, black, Latina.. she doesn't want someone who's only worked with white people and might not have experience with other textures, braids... etc. The stylists themselves can be white/whatever race as long as they have diverse experience. She already has a makeup artist. She's got a generous budget and is willing to pay travel/accommodation if/as needed. Any recs are appreciated - Thank you!

I (22f) am being stalked by my high school bully Ryan (fake name) (23m). I’ve known Ryan since I was in the 6th grade. He’s always been hateful to me. I went to a predominantly white school and it’s very hard as a black girl. He’s always done racist things to me. He’s called me the n-word he’s put gum in my hair , cut my hair , try to rip out my braids , and made fun of me and called me a slave multiple times. I was so happy when I finally graduated so I would never have to see him again. But now we are going to the same college. At first I tried to avoid him but he wasn’t leaving me alone. At first he just kept apologizing to me buying me stuff. I wanted nothing from him but for him to leave me alone. I told him if he persisted I would tell on him and he called me a bitch and didn’t talk to me for a few weeks. Then he starts stalking me via social media he’s added me on Facebook, followed my insta , tiktok , and added my snap. I blocked him but he just kept making more accounts. Eventually when he realized it wasn’t going to work he started following my friends and adding them. One of my friends showed me their messages and it was really scary. He asked a lot of personal questions about me. And he revealed a lot of things he knows about me. He knows where my parents live , he knows where I work and my hours , he knows my phone number , and my car / license plate. I thought this would be more than enough for the dean to do something but they gave him a slap on the wrist. I don’t want to take this to the police but atp I don’t know what to do. I’ve told him multiple times to just please leave me alone I don’t know what he wants from me. I’m not just scared for my own safety because now he’s brought my friends and family into this and I don’t know what to do.

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Catgirl: Tristan x Svarga
I was in a strange mood. On one hand, I felt like skipping over to Melly’s house. The fact that Ceres and Lara were awake was great news. I’d spent the majority of my time agonizing over what I could’ve done to prevent Ceres from suffering such a terrible wound. Still, every time I tried to think of what I could’ve done better, I was always led back to the same thought—Sanrai was a monster. A catgirl truly deserving of the word. If anything, we were lucky to come out in as good shape as we did.
On the other hand, though, things still felt a little stilted between everyone—especially with Cannoli. There was an awkward force in the air that made it increasingly difficult to just be myself.
Some part of me blamed Cailu for that. Now that he was around, I felt I had to work three times as hard to earn my place in the group. Every word out of my mouth was met with either a disappointed glance or a scolding. Admittedly, I know I deserved some of it.
I wasn’t as well-read as Tristan or as seasoned of a fighter as Cailu. But, man, I hadn’t really had the chance to do a lot of either since I’d come to Nyarlea. Hopefully, there was still enough time to prove myself to both of them.
I knocked on Melly’s door, then waited with my hands in my pockets. Most of the First Shell’s debris had been cleared, with the stray stone or trinket resting against the walls beside the tunnel. A few of the catgirls had wandered off to see what the other Shell looked like, though the Second Shell girls seemed a bit more optimistic and curious than those who resided in the First Shell.
There was a clear divide of wealth and luxury between the two Shells, though not to the degree we’d seen in the Third Shell. Many remarked on the jewelry and fine housing in the other’s district. I hoped that our being here and forcing them to mingle would work out for the better.
“Oh, Matt! Good to see you,” Melly said, answering the door. Her hands were dyed purple, and streaks of the same color splattered her cheeks in a messy array. “Here to see Ceres?”
“I am,” I said, nodding. “Is she awake?”
“She is! I was just making pie. Come on in.”
“Oh? Do you mind if I have a slice?” I hadn’t had pie since the girls had made one together.
“Well,” Melly hummed, “it needs to cook for close to an hour. But if you’re still here, then you’re welcome to it.”
“Thanks.”
Melly led me up the stairs for what was the third, maybe fourth time? I wasn’t sure; I’d lost count at this point. She knocked on the door, then pushed it open.
“You have a visitor,” she announced. She stood to one side and waved me in.
“Sir Matt!” Ceres whipped the covers off her and threw her legs over one side. “It’s good to—”
“Hey!” Melly barked. “Stay in bed. You’re still in no condition to be moving around like that.”
“A-ah. Yes. My apologies.” Ceres resumed her position in bed and brought the covers back over her legs.
“Can I use one of those?” I asked, pointing to one of the stools next to the table.
“Go ahead. I’ll be downstairs if you need anything,” Melly said with a smile.
“Good to see you, Matt,” Destiny said, glancing at me with a curt nod. She looked better than before. The dark bags were gone, and there was life in her features again. Seeing Lara awake seemed to have done wonders for her well-being.
“Same, Destiny. How are you feeling, Lara?” I asked as I grabbed one of the stools by the leg.
“Better. Melly said I could leave soon. Tomorrow maybe.” Lara’s tone of voice hadn’t returned to its airy, whimsical norm, but seeing her and Destiny talking again was a huge weight off my shoulders.
“The nightgown looks good on you.” Maybe it was a weird thing to say at the moment, but I wanted to make things sound casual. Ceres and Lara were provided a change of clothes at some point. They wore matching one-piece gowns of white, which frilled around the edges of the fabric. They looked comfortable as hell.
Lara blinked. “Oh, thank you.”
I set the stool next to Ceres’ bed and took a seat.
“It is wonderful to be in your presence once more, Sir Matt.” Ceres offered a polite nod. Her hair wasn’t braided and fell around her shoulders in long strands of gold. There was a tender tone to her voice, a bit hoarse. She coughed to the side, away from me, and cleared her throat. “It seems I cannot drink enough water this morning.” She reached for the glass beside her and swallowed two large gulps before setting it down.
“You look so much better, Ceres,” I said. To be honest, she was striking. Seeing her out of her armor with her hair freed was rare. It was softer than I was used to, but she wore it well. “I was worried about you. The wound was pretty rough, from what I heard.”
“Indeed. I lament that I have caused you undue stress. From what I have been told, you have visited me a few times now.”
“Yeah,” I said, averting my gaze momentarily. “Melly stressed that you would heal, but for a while there, she didn’t seem to know what the damage might entail. Has she talked to you about it?”
“Yes. She informed me that I shall make a full recovery.” Her gaze landed on Lara. “However, I may be here for another day or two.”
“That’s okay. Take time to heal.” I half laughed. “I don’t know a lot of people who can say they were stabbed in the stomach and lived.”
Ceres clasped her hands upon her lap. She made several complex expressions before she responded. “Yes, I suppose that is true.”
Her gaze looked lost and sad. I noticed the book resting on the table beside her and cleared my throat. “Keeping yourself busy?”
Ceres turned to the book and retrieved it. I recognized the cover; it was the same one she read when I was recovering from the Defiled twins.
“Yes, Sir Matt.” She flipped the book open and thumbed through the pages until halfway through. She straightened the folded paper corner and grazed her pointer finger down the page. “I have learned much. Our tendency to find ourselves in trouble has further expedited my desire to see my [Alchemy] improve.”
Yours isn’t the only one that needs improving. Those Potions I made don’t look too great anymore.
“How does your expedition fare?” Ceres asked, shutting the book and placing it on her lap. “From what little I have heard from Destiny and Tristan, it sounds as if the infiltration was a success.”
This wasn’t really what I wanted to talk about. I admit I don’t know what I really wanted to talk about—just something that didn’t involve politics, the duty of men and catgirls, or fighting for Experience. What sounded great right now was a vacation away from it all.
But hey, catgirls.
“It went great,” I said. Hearing the tone of my voice, I put a bit more enthusiasm into my next words. “Cailu defeated Magni in an official duel, so he’s dead now.” I scratched the side of my nostril, sniffing. “Naeemah is working to bring order to the city, and Cailu’s helping me train. There’s an Experience farm that Magni had been working on.”
Ceres frowned. “Forgive me. Experience farm?”
“They trained up a bunch of Encroachers and bred them for battle. The girl responsible for them, Jeenie, said that Magni used them to get easy Experience and Levels.”
“Celestia entertained a similar thought,” said Destiny. I repositioned and sat parallel to the beds, looking at her. “The costs were enormous. Celestia estimated a minimum of two years before a proper Experience farm could be made. Even then…”
“Ah, yes, I remember,” Lara said with a finger to her lips, her eyes half open. “‘Too many to manage,’ she said.”
“Well, seems like Magni managed just fine,” I said. “Jeenie mentioned that she straps some sort of choker to their body. It’s supposed to make them stronger, and so—”
“They provide more Experience,” Ceres finished. “Fascinating.”
Yeah, I guess.
“Anyways.” I waved my hand in hopes of getting away from the topic of the Experience farm. “We’ve been relaxing and training while we try and figure out what we do from here. Cailu is adamant about getting Tristan and me to Second Class.”
“I must admit, that is a fair demand to make,” said Ceres. “If I recall correctly, your Class is Level 9, is it not?”
“Yeah, it is.”
“Excellent.” Ceres nodded. “I shall do whatever I can to hasten your journey to Second Class.”
I guess it couldn’t hurt to ask a few questions.
“What was Second Class like for you?”
Ceres bowed her head. Her smile vanished, replaced by a thin line. She seemed pensive, almost reluctant somehow. It was hard to get a read on her.
“My journey was a complex one,” she finally said, raising her head to look at me. “I spent years training my body and my Magic so that the Sword of Virtues would receive me as one worthy of the [Magic Knight] title.” She shuffled one thumb over the other before continuing. “I met many who shared my passion for eliminating the Defiled threat. I gained many allies and lost many who trained alongside me. Reaching Second Class is an arduous task for any, and [Magic Knight] remains among the most difficult of Second Classes to gain access to, let alone master.”
“Years?” I repeated. “I’ll be training for Second Class for years?”
“I admit, I do not know. That would be an excellent question for Cailu.” She shuffled her thumbs again. “There are many times that I miss my training and my peers.”
With each word she recited, she spoke as if she was talking to an old friend. For a moment, I wondered if I was digging up some bad memories from the sad look on her face. I didn’t want to upset her.
“So a sword decides if you’re allowed to become a [Magic Knight]?” I teased. “What if the sword broke or got stolen?”
Ceres smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “There are several like it, each with different monikers.” I nodded, pretending I knew what ‘moniker’ meant, and let her continue. “Saoirse left behind a number of holy swords. The queen considers each one a treasure, and thusly they are heavily guarded. To breach the fort holding the Sword of Virtues would mean to enter combat with every catgirl available, a great deal of them formidable [Magic Knight]s.” She sighed. “At least, that is how it was until shortly before you arrived.”
“What do you mean?”
“The Sword of Virtues was stolen,” Destiny explained.
“Is that true?” I asked.
“Yes,” Ceres said with a sullen expression. The corner of her lip twitched. “The fault was mine. I was the acting vanguard the day it was taken. A detestable Defiled had breached the city’s walls, and I called upon the actions of every available [Magic Knight], including the [Fighter]s who were still training.” A pause followed. “I left behind two [Magic Knight]s to protect the sword. They were killed by the thieves.”
I had no idea what to say. I wasn’t expecting such a bombshell, and honestly, I wasn’t ready for it.
“I’m really sorry, Ceres.” The words left my lips, but they didn’t feel like they were enough. My dad never talked much about being in the military, just that it was tough. I imagined it was a similar concept for Ceres. Seeing your friends dead and a priceless relic stolen underneath your command had to sting.
“Do not worry yourself over me,” Ceres shook her head. “The past is the past. There is little more I can do now than try to atone and make amends wherever I am able.”
“I’m sorry if I sound insensitive, but then how do [Magic Knight]s come to be, now?”
“The [Magic Knight]s still possess two more swords capable of bestowing their power to adepts. Since that theft, the queen has taken it upon herself to keep the remaining swords.”
I guess it’s a good thing I won’t be going down that path.
“I see. Is it… tough to talk about?”
“Somewhat,” Ceres said. “But it does no soul well to dwell on what cannot be changed. As I have said, the past is simply that—the past. You can continue living in it, but no one is there anymore.”
“So wise,” Lara said with evident admiration.
After that, I shifted the conversation away from Second Classes as we continued to talk. I was more concerned about Ceres and her personal interests than Nyarlean politics. As uneasy as it made me to probe her for information on her past, I was glad to learn more about her. I wanted to know my girls and how they ticked.
I’ll need to make a better habit of this.
​
Ceres Pro Tip: Sir Matt, it is wonderful to speak with you again! Please stay for pie before resuming your training?
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basically the title, i don’t really wear why hair out and when i do i’m usually just wearing it in a bun.
So i wanted to rock braids for a few weeks and was wondering if there was a difference for growth between parting and free forming the.

Okay so I just realized the edges of my hair look kind of thin. I can see my scalp in the front and that really scared me. I’ve only been natural for 2 years and didn’t know what to do with my hair so I always put it in a puff, but now it looks like I’m facing the consequences. It’s not bad, but I notice it. I was wondering what the best protective styles are? I know some will say to just wear my hair down, but I’m afraid I will resort to the puff and also summer is coming and I always do protective styles. Would knotless braids be good?