When you're rich enough, you get perks you can only dream of. Literally. But somehow, my paradise turned into hell.
And now I'm paranoid.
Have you ever had a dream so amazing, you wished you could relive it? Explore it? Relish it? Well, when you're rich enough, you don't have to wish. It's a reality thanks to dream banks. You may have heard of them and their pricy services, which include recording, saving, and projecting dreams.
For example, if you'd like a dream recorded, you can book one of their luxurious suites for the night, where the dream techs will fit you with a special helmet, offer you a sleep-friendly snack, and leave you to rest. The next morning, they'll replay the recorded dream for you via the helmet and ask if you want to shell out the extra bucks to save it. If you don't, they'll delete it and you can pay to book for another time to try again.
If you do decide to save it, you must select an item within the dream that will act as the exit key. (This will come in handy during projections.) While still wearing the helmet, you must touch the item, and the dream techs will label those electric signals as the key.
Afterwards, everything is saved under your name, and you can now relive your dream at any time by booking a suite for three, five, or eight hours. Unlike recordings, during projections, you don't have to wait for sleep to come. After you enjoy a snack of your choice, the helmet is fitted and you're immediately transported to your dream, where you have free will and can enjoy it at your leisure. And if you ever need to leave early, this is when you touch the key, which will shut down the helmet right away.
In my case, the key is the stegosaurus leather rug I have hanging on the wall of my throne room. I never have a reason to touch it otherwise, making it a perfect key. I've also never had to touch it. Experiencing life as an all-powerful, worshipped being who lives on my own planet and hunts dinosaurs in my spare time, I relished my dream to the last second.
Yes, the fees are exorbitant, but at the time, I felt it was worth it. The techs were skilled, the system was sleek, and the dreams were private. Each could only be unlocked by the unique brainwaves of the dreamer.
Or so I thought.
My literal nightmare began when I booked a five-hour projection on a rainy Tuesday afternoon. After taking a sip of champagne to wash down the cranberry brie bites, I settled into the cool silk sheets with a smile. My usual dream tech smiled back as she fastened my helmet, and the last thing I heard was her wishing me pleasant dreams before I was plunged into darkness.
I waited for the split-second adjustment from reality to the dream world, and my confusion grew when I didn't find myself on my throne surrounded by fawning gods and goddesses.
Instead, I found myself in the middle of an endless street. Alone. There were no cars, no life, not even wind. Towering street lamps lined the sidewalk as far as I could see, arcing over the road and tinting everything an eerie red. Behind them, identical buildings stood side by side, silent, their dark, narrow windows hollow.
My pulse spiking, I whipped around. The other direction was just as endless. Uneasy confusion prickled beneath my skin. This had to be someone else's dream. The techs must have made a mistake. I didn't know how it was possible, but there was no other explanation.
My unease piqued as my situation sank in. I was in a stranger's dream and I didn't know the key. I was stuck here until my five hours ran out. Or until the techs realized their mistake. I was ready to rip them a new one once I was out, but until then, I had no choice but to wait.
I studied my surroundings with a frown before I walked over to the curb and sat down, and that was when I noticed I couldn't feel anything. I also noticed I was naked. It didn't matter. There was no one here, and none of this was real anyway.
Time passed, and I tried to distract myself from my nettled offense by humming, but no sound came out. Sitting up, I took a deep breath and screamed. Not even a squeak was heard. I slapped my hand against the ground. Nothing. This place was like a black hole of the senses.
Sighing, I lay down on my back and stared at the red light above me, wondering if I could fall asleep in a dream. I tried, but the more I wished to escape this silent, crimson prison, the more it seemed to come into focus. Soon, the utter lack of noise and movement grew from slightly unnerving to completely intolerable.
There was no way I could wait. I'd go insane. I had to get out of here. I had to find the key.
Jumping up, I ran to the nearest building and wrenched open the door, and a pitch black void greeted me. I gasped, and gasped again as it felt like my very breath was being suctioned out of my lungs. Panicking, silent wheezes rattled in my chest as I struggled to yank myself out of the vacuum, jerking my limbs and bucking my body until I toppled over backwards on the sidewalk.
Gulping in fitful breaths, I scrambled to my feet and ran down the road without looking back, my wide eyes scanning the horizon for salvation. I just wanted out of here, but the hellish path stretched on forever, making me feel like I was running in place as every identical building and street lamp mocked me. Even my silent stomping and mute panting served to draw insanity closer.
And then, a person showed up.
There, in the distance.
With my hope spurred, I raced towards them, desperate. I didn't care who they were. I needed to break this monotony.
As I got closer, hope morphed to confusion, and then to despair. The person was me. It was a mirror, propped up across the entire street.
Sweat-soaked, I slowed down to a jog before I stopped right in front of my reflection. It was me alright, naked, exhausted, and frustrated. But the eyes, something was off about the eyes. With an anxious frown, I stepped closer, staring into them, and they stared back …
… until they glanced behind me.
I gasped and jumped away, and so did my reflection … before it glanced over my shoulder again.
A chill trickled down my spine. My reflection had nothing behind it but the empty street, so I gulped and turned around, and my mouth fell open in a silent scream as a lovecraftian behemoth barrelled its way towards me. With its slick shell gleaming red beneath the lights, it slammed down one spiny tentacle after the other as its five mouths bared their dripping, concentric fangs.
Drenched in undiluted horror, tremors gripped my body as I stumbled away until my back was against the mirror. I knew death was a foolproof key in a dream, but I didn't know if this creature would kill me right away or leave me to suffer in agony until my five hours were up.
With it only inches away, I squeezed my eyes shut and pressed myself into the mirror, and my stomach flipped as I fell backwards. I opened my mouth to gasp, but there was nothing for me to draw in. Floating in an airless void, I flailed and thrashed, my wild eyes scanning the darkness for answers as I began to spin around.
Although death would free me, one of my greatest fears was suffocating. On one of my weightless rotations, a red, glass cube passed me by, and I grabbed it, hoping it was a breathing device. I brought it close to my face, and I gawked at what it held within.
Me.
Surrounded by identical buildings and red street lamps while a lovecraftian behemoth tore me apart.
Horrified, I threw the cube as far as I could and increased my efforts to escape this void. Yet all the flailing and thrashing was for naught as the darkness revealed no end. My eyesight began to go red as my lungs spasmed, and I clawed at my throat as my pulse stuttered in my chest.
The red kept growing and growing until it engulfed my entire vision, and I gave up. There was nothing to do but face my fears and die. With my straining heart lumbering, I let myself go limp as I stared at the red and waited.
And waited.
And waited.
I wasn't dying.
In fact, I could breathe just fine.
Frowning, I opened my eyes, and intense unease spread through my core. Above me, a red moon had taken up the entire sky, each one of its craters crystal clear, like eyes watching me. I turned my head away, and I realized I was in a park, laying down on the grass. Sitting up, I blinked in surprise at the pond right beside me, its opaque water reflecting the moon's red light. Ducks were swimming in a circle across its surface, their movements smooth with nary a splash.
Trees surrounded us, so dense I couldn't tell when one began and the other ended. It was mind-numbingly quiet here as well, and I still couldn't feel anything or make any noise, but at least the ducks were moving. This place seemed more tolerable than the last, and I was willing to wait out my five hours here. I hoped at least an hour had passed already, but with dreams, one never knew. All I knew was that I was too exhausted to search for the key. And too scared. I didn't know whose dream this was, but they had to be masochistic if they saved this nightmare.
Curling up beside the pond, I worked on calming myself down as I watched the ducks swim in their systematic circle over and over and over. I tried counting the rotations the way one would count sheep, but that still didn't lull me to sleep. I wished I'd chosen the three-hour projection, but at least I hadn't chosen the eight-hour one.
Distorted circus music crackled around me and I jolted up, my heart ricocheting in my chest. There was finally sound, but the last thing I wanted to hear was a cliche horror movie soundtrack. Gulping, I looked around. The music was coming from the trees, and my stomach dropped when I spied a shadow behind one of them. Then another. And another. They emerged into the crimson moonlight, and my blood turned to ice.
Clowns.
I whipped around, trembling to the rhythm of my frantic pulse. They were surrounding me. Dozens of them. As classic as any clown could be. Colorful clothes, big shoes, silly hair, exaggerated makeup. I wasn't scared of clowns, as long as they were where they belonged. And they didn't belong here, staring at me with empty eyes and toothy grins.
I tried to convince myself that they weren't dangerous since they didn't have weapons and didn't seem monstrous, but when they took a step closer in unison, I jumped back, nearly falling into the pond. The ducks remained oblivious, still swimming in their circle. The distorted circus music got louder, and my hair stood on end when I saw the grass ripple in front of each clown. They were sending something my way through the ground.
Panicking, I jumped into the pond, and I screamed as I sank right in. There was no bottom. There was no water either. The pond was filled with red, translucent spheres, each the size of a tennis ball. Still able to breathe, I began swimming through the spheres with clumsy breast strokes, just hoping I could end up as far away from the clowns as possible.
After swimming for what felt like enough time, I tried to swim up, until I realized I had no idea which direction I was facing. Remember a trick for those stuck in avalanches, I spat, but my glob of saliva just hovered in front of me. Before panic could set in, I noticed what looked like an office desk floating amidst the spheres in the distance. After blinking a few times to make sure it was really there, I swam towards it, desperate for any change in my situation.
It was an office desk, a wooden one with carved borders and locked drawers. Tucked beneath it was a stool, and the moment I pulled it out and set it under my ass, an office replaced the red spheres.
I grunted as gravity returned, and I looked around in bewilderment at the cluttered bookshelves and grimy floors. Dust was floating everywhere, highlighted by the red light filtering in through the blinds behind me. I jumped as a clock hanging on the wall chimed. Its glass was too dirty for me to tell the time, but I was glad I could hear. I coughed at the dust. And I could make noise. I dusted my hands. And I could feel. I could even smell, which I now wished I couldn't as I wrinkled my nose at the faint stench of rot.
After failing to read the spines of some of the books on the shelves, I studied the shadowy corners of the room. A slack-jawed skeleton hung in the far end, and a faded poster with anatomical diagrams curled off a cupboard. This had to be a doctor's office. Was the creator of this dream a doctor?
A silhouette slid in front of the frosted glass door, and I gulped as the knob began to turn. A hand reached in, gripping the edge one finger at a time, and my heart dropped as I knew this horror cliche was only going to be followed by another. Having no time to think, I slid off the stool and crouched beneath the desk, my hand over my mouth as cobwebs clung to me.
Praying spiders wouldn't swarm me, I peeked through a small slit in the wood, and I froze when an emaciated nurse walked in the room. Layers upon layers of blood coated her scrubs, so much so that I couldn't even tell what color they originally were. She had no shoes. No feet either. Just ankle stubs, and my stomach turned as I heard bone clunk against the tiles.
A surgical mask covered her face, as bloodstained as her scrubs, and grimy lab goggles obscured her eyes. I was grateful, because judging by the pus leaking out of her scabbed, balding scalp, I didn't want to know what her face looked like. The closer she got, the stronger the stench of rot became, and I struggled to keep myself from retching.
She stopped halfway into the room, and I gawked at her hands. They were transforming. Her fingers elongating into razor-edged blades. She then began to hunch over, and I cringed as her spine cracked and popped until she was as bent as a candy cane, her face staring at her pelvis.
As if that wasn't unsettling enough, her head creaked as it spun around 180 degrees, now facing the front, upside down. Right after, her arms shot to the ground, and I watched with increasing dread as she bent them at the elbows and wrists so they flanked her head like distorted T-Rex arms.
She spread her fingers out and took a few more steps towards me, and I held my breath, hoping she couldn't hear my rabid heart or smell my fear. Her ankle bones clicked and clacked against the tiles as she made her way around the desk, and I cowered as my frantic eyes searched for a weapon. I found none, but I did spy a brass button beside my head.
With her legs now an arms distance away, I had nothing to lose as I jammed my thumb into the button. The back of the desk flung open, and I scrambled to my feet and dashed out from my hiding place, screaming in response to the nurse screeching behind me. Bursting through the door, I held up my fists and began punching like a maniac in fearful anticipation of a horde of nurses swarming me.
Except I was no longer in a hospital. I was in an outdoor parking lot. Alone. And judging by the roiling red clouds, a storm was brewing. After a second to collect my bearings, I dove into the closest car, thankful it was unlocked. The moment I slammed the door shut, lightning blinded me as thunder cracked and the downpour began. Sighing in relief, I tried to shake away my adrenaline, but the bloodshot eyes in my rearview mirror reignited my panic.
Before I could react, a belt snapped over my neck, pinning my head back against the headrest. With a frightened wheeze, I clawed at the leather, and I flinched as hot, heavy breath wafted across my ear. Gagging at the putrid smell, I reached over, desperate to scratch my strangler's face or poke their eyes out.
I felt their hair and tried to pull it, but my fingers refused to hold on. I tried again and again, but the strands just kept slipping out of my weak grip. Shifting focus, I tried to claw at their eyes, but it felt as though I was moving through molasses as my hand slid down their face. Even when I felt a wet, bulbous eye, I didn't have enough strength to do anything.
My frustration clashed with my terror and I tried to punch them, but my arm swung back in slow motion and merely prodded a stubbly cheek. Tears welled in my eyes as I writhed and gasped, my strangler's laugh adding insult to injury. Despite knowing death will set me free, fear and self-preservation rummaged through my mind, searching for a solution. And they found one.
Hoping I had enough grip and energy, I reached down and found the reclining lever. Wrapping my fingers around it tight, I jerked it up and heaved my body back, and I gulped in a deep breath as I fell backwards, the belt now slack. Not at all prepared to face my attacker, I slipped out from beneath the belt, flung open the door, and zoomed out into the storm.
Sheets of rain obscured my vision, but not enough for me to see that the keys were left inside a red convertible. After making sure no one was hiding in the back, I jumped in, started the engine, and took off, the wheels squealing through the puddles. A sole street curled down a hill, and I took it, adrenaline pumping in waves through my quivering body.
This rush was a confusing mixture of exhilaration and apprehension. I wanted out, but I wasn't giving up. I made it this far, and I was going to survive every cliche this masochist dreamed up. Spiders? Snakes? Zombies? Bring it on. And afterwards, I was going to detail every single trial and tribulation I went through as I sued the dream bank for all the trauma they caused me.
Up ahead, the road curved, and I gasped as it ended in a cliff. I slammed the breaks, but they didn't do anything. Breaking out in a cold sweat, I slammed them again and again as I yanked the hand break as far as it would go. The car refused to slow down, and I cursed myself for not anticipating this cliche. In a move of desperation, I swerved, but it wasn't enough as the car careened over the edge and took me with it.
My heart hung in my throat as I hung on to the steering wheel, my knuckles white, my screams frozen in my lungs, the raindrops like needles. An endless body of water spread below me, and I knew sharks were my next challenge. I screwed my eyes shut as I awaited the inevitable plunge …
… and I gasped as a gentle hand woke me up.
I sat up, my pyjamas plastered to my damp skin, the silk sheets soaked. The tech gave me a sympathetic smile and asked me if I wanted to review the dream or if I wanted to delete it right away, since she could sense it was a nightmare.
I stared at her in furious disbelief as I yelled and cursed, accusing them of misconduct, and she gave me a confused frown. She said I had booked a recording session, not a projection one. After I called her a liar, management got involved, and they showed me my file with proof that I'd booked and paid for a recording session.
I told them they must have mistakenly charged me for a recording session, but I was one hundred percent sure I went through a projection session. I asked for five hours on a Tuesday afternoon. Not eight hours on a Tuesday evening. I had champagne and cranberry brie bites, not chamomile and honey-glazed almonds.
Their concern increased as they told me I was wrong. They said it was Wednesday, I'd slept the entire night, and they had my recorded dream to prove it. I demanded to skim through it, and they obliged. There it was, every scene of that nightmare. But it wasn't mine. It couldn't be. Could it? I hated scary movies. I also rarely had nightmares unless it involved me going broke. Why would I dream of an amalgamation of every horror cliche?
For a second, I was afraid I was still in the dream. This nightmarish scenario would fit right in with the others, taking it to Inception levels. But everything seemed real. I could hear, feel, and speak. No one was growing tentacles or blades. Nothing smelled pungent. Nothing glowed red.
I groaned and buried my face in my hands, confused and uncomfortable. I didn't know what the truth was anymore. One tech reminded me it was impossible for dreams to be projected to anyone but their creator. Another tech gently touched my shoulder and suggested I see a doctor if I continued to get spells of confusion like this. Not knowing how to reply, I paid them to save the nightmare before I got dressed and left.
Back home, I talked to family and friends, nothing seemed suspicious. Nothing seemed ready to kill me. I'm typing here on Reddit, and I'm sure I'll get replies. I'm out of the dream. I'm certain of it. But that leaves two other options.
Either I really did book a recording session and had my own nightmare, in which case I should take the tech's advice and see a doctor because my memory doesn't add up …
… or something sinister is going on at the dream banks, and they're using their clients as guinea pigs. Perhaps they're planning on branching out and creating a mental house of horrors where clients can get a near-realistic experience without fear of death. But why wouldn't they ask for volunteers instead of traumatizing loyal customers?
So I have to ask, have any of you experienced something similar? I know the odds of finding another multimillionaire who frequents dream banks is slim on Reddit, but even one other account can help my case.
SR

So i'm growing my hair out and it looks like curly in the midlle and normal at the sides? i guess, i'm not good with describing things 😕.
Any tips for getting your hair to grow faster or longer? I want to try to go for a sort of LOB hairstyle if my hair allows that. Should you also still go to a barber in the meantime when growing out your hair or not? Because to me it seems very counter productive getting your hair cut to only let it grow longer.
Thank you for answering my questions. 😊

“Explain,”
“The constant barrage, and constant destruction, of meteors has begun to affect our farms and fisheries greatly. It is summer on our world and already the chill of fall has set in. The world is darker, and the days bear more clouds,”
I am forever grateful for this brave firm helmet, it does well to hide my disgust. My misbegotten and shameful pride. But I cannot throw away my soldier's lives pointlessly.
“How does your world harvest from the seas, good merchant?” I asked.
“Submersibles and diving suits, why do you ask,” the Erisian said.
“If you would stop the bombardment of that fortress then you will allow my forces to use your talents and your vehicles. Your artisans and forges will work on my command. For that I will spare your world the torment of prolonged bombardment,” I said.
“If we must, so we shall,” the Erisian patriarch said.
“Good, then let us proceed,” I concluded.
More days slip through my fingers like pebbles on the white-green beaches. Three months it took for even as bad a plan as this to be put together, to begin digging the tunnels, and selecting which regiments would participate in each element of the plan. The dogs whine, and the hastily recruited militia chafe under the rigidity of drill, but each does their part, and does as their told.
And, of course, the agony of waiting. As I stand upon these rough-hewn shores, crews of workers tunnel into the fortress, half a hemisphere away. Every day I further harm this world and its people for my own dreams of conquest. Every day I expect some disastrous news, of a tunnel collapse or, worse still, that damnable satrap uncovering our scheme.
It is Nendek who arrives behind me on the windy shore.
“The tunnels are complete, all they need is explosives and we shall sink tooth and blade into the Talti,” he said.
“Tell me truthfully, for I fear few else will, or have eyes that can see truth anymore, do you believe in this stratagem?” I asked, gaze fixed upon the horizon, as if the fortress were just over it.
“No,” he said, “do you?”
“Yes, though I fear the consequences of our victory,”
“I would,”
“Have your men ready for their part, and I will marshal the rest to do theirs,”
Dark clouds in the distance heave and flow, almost indistinguishable in the light of a most early dawn. Wings of light crown hundreds of skiffs, scant few feet above the roiling ocean. Low to ocean’s waves, at extreme speed, early in the dawn. All ideas of Nendek.
We knew the great batteries could fire upon their horizon, so coming high or deploying from orbit would play far worse. The best bet is to fly fast, fly apart, and fly low to limit how long we are visible to the dread guns. Of course, I am not willing to throw everything into the hands of Providence. A barrage of meteors, larger than any launched in the past two months, descended upon the fort, timed for precisely when we crossed the threshold. Immediately three white beams raised to the firmament turned rock first into slag and then into dust.
For thirty seconds we endure no counterfire. More of the barrage evaporates under the skilled gunnery of the fortress. Another minute passes as white spray cools my helm. The red balls of rock are halfway to their target.
One of the beams no longer faces the sky, a fireball erupts on the far right flank. Then another as the beam pulses again. And again, and again. The enemy has noticed us.
Uuo pilots the skiff expertly, shifting from side to side and up and down all while maintaining speed. He contrasts well with another skiff in my lance that drifted too low, violently bucking forward as it contacts the water, catapulting its crew and dashing them on the water’s surface.
Thirty more seconds. A second beam begins to melt the far left flank. Forty, no, forty two skiffs are gone, several hundred souls with them. Uuo asks me to reconsider the approach, we both know its foolish to even ask.
The red rock descends ever quicker, a scant mile above the surface now. The fortress nears. The Bazan skiffs begin to give fire, a false assurance at this range. One such absorbs a glancing hit from a shore battery, sending it to the depths below.
Just as our force is reduced further and further I see our salvation, three meteors of the nearly three hundred thrown, impact the earth. One of the outer bastions crumbles completely, alongside its fearsome gun, and the other two shatter the outer walls of the fortress with dust thrown about all the sky. The dust obscures their sensors and farseers, their guns begin to miss, scarcely, but they do, and one seems to have been eliminated outright.
Thirty more seconds until landfall, the great basalt columns that will make our tomb reach out to greet me. Shore fire erupts from several prepared positions, and rakes the decks of some of the forward skiffs killing many. Zzazzuu militia and pairs of Dedege give return fire, and many silver suited defenders dash their brains on the rocks below, bathing them in pink.
Then came the rumble and the roar, a mile inland dust and flame mixed on the outer walls of the palace, and doubtless my brave Andu in gold and my Zzazzuu in black march together, anointed by my red right hand. For only a moment does my mind wander to the siege of Ranne and the great siegeworks done there, but there is no time for such reminiscing.
I leap from the skiff onto a basalt column, joined by my sworn Khorkha, and join the battle in earnest.
Author's Note: Not dead, life happens.
Audience Engagement Section? Something I noticed reading through the previous chapters is that over time they've gotten significantly longer. Not really sure what to make of that, but its certainly a thing.

TW: sui ideation, brief mentions of abuse, etc
Hi. I have struggled with mental health issues for most of my life following several events such as sexual assaults, being orphaned, foster care, child abuse, etc. as a result I have many disorders and issues that impact my daily life. for the most part I have been able to get through these issues as long as I am accommodated and comfortable. until I started working.
My job is not hard. I work in an amusement park doing retail at our gift shops. I spend most of my shifts blowing bubbles depending on where I’m stationed at, or standing in a half-empty shop. All I have to do is cashier, for around 25-35 hours a week, 12/hr, from 4pm-11pm. It has still managed to completely drain every part of me.
I spend my free time before work dreading work. I get anxiety so horrible that it presents physically and I get nauseated and sickly for several hours straight all the way up until I clock in. I am usually so tired from my night before that I spend my mornings just marinating in fear and a sad excuse for sleep. Every night I get home and either pass out, cry, or stay awake all night to compensate for my lack of free time.
When my job is not busy, I am standing around alone for 6-8 hours. Usually this would be heaven for me, but combined with my uptick in suicidal ideation and whatnot it has been nothing but horrible. I am alone for hours spiraling with my thoughts; I have no one to talk to, I have nobody around me. We have a no phone rule so I cannot reach out to anybody when I feel this way. I suffer from severe OCD so my mind will torment me by giving me intrusive thoughts of past trauma on a loop for hours. Fucking hours. No distractions. Only one fifteen minute break. No ways to cope. Nothing to keep me busy besides recleaning the same 5 items every ten minutes. It’s horrible.
When my job is busy, I have to mask all of my emotions to speak to every customer to the best of my ability. I get stared down for not being fast enough while counting change or folding clothes correctly while the line is out the door and I’m rushing as hard as I can. I have to keep up fake, superficial, meaningless conversations just to manipulate people into buying more things so I don’t get sent home early and lose money. Often times I am nonverbal and unable to communicate but have to force myself to regardless. It is awful.
And then, finally, after eight hours of that, I go home and wake up and do it all over again, for what? $500 biweekly? I can barely afford to treat myself with that, and then I have to imagine a future where I have to SURVIVE off of that. My coworkers work are grown ass adults working doubles from two jobs daily and are still barely getting by. And I’m just supposed to grow into and accept that? What kind of fucking future is that? And god forbid I complain because then everyone just tells me that’s the way life is. Well it shouldn’t be. And if it is why would I want to live it. I don’t indulge in my hobbies anymore. I don’t mentally find them interesting. I don’t talk to my boyfriend. I can’t spend time with my friends.
I’m sorry this post is very jumbled, I’m about to clock in and out my phone away. Let’s hope I make it!
ETA: I can’t afford therapy nor the doctor nor medication, please don’t recommend me any. due to my living circumstances I don’t have easy access to any of those things anyway. :(

Since there's been a lot of people reserving the sets, then giving up after, I'll take the payment in advance.
Keep in mind that for this deal you will need to have Steam Mobile Authenticator and wait for 30 days, so I can gift them to you.
Just as I did the years past, I will NOT GO FIRST and also there might still be a limitation to gift only 8 bundles per day.
If you don't agree, please don't add me.
http://steamcommunity.com/id/hugaum/

Hero	2016's Collector's Cache Set	Price
Luna	Nightsilver's Resolve	$10

Hero	2018's Collector's Cache Set I	Price
2 Bloodseeker	Trail of the Sanguine Spectrum	$6
3 Dark Seer	Insights of the Sapphire Shroud	$2
2 Spirit Breaker	Pillar of the Fractured Citadel	$5
3 Wraith King	Stonemarch Sovereign	$15
2 Necrophos	The Murid Divine	$5
3 Techies	Primer of the Sapper's Guile	$7
2 Venomancer	Molokau Stalker	$5
3 Witch Doctor	Morbific Provision	$10
2 Queen of Pain	Raptures of the Abyssal Kin	$6
2 Invoker	Fate Meridian	$15
3 Weaver	Grasp of the Riven Exile	$4
Phantom Assassin	Visions of the Lifted Veil	$15
Warlock	Dread Compact	$50

Hero	2018's Collector's Cache Set II	Price
3 Ember Spirit	Fires of the Volcanic Guard	$6
2 Axe	Shackles of the Enduring Conscript	$6
2 Nyx Assassin	Shimmer of the Anointed	$3
3 Brewmaster	Loaded Prospects	$6
2 Phoenix	Ire of Molten Rebirth	$6
2 Broodmother	Pattern of the Silken Queen	$2
Doom	Dread Ascendance	$15
Chen	The Rat King	$1

Hero	2019's Collector's Cache Set I	Price
Dragon Knight	Scorched Amber	$12
Tidehunter	Poacher's Bane	$6
Undying	Curse of the Creeping Vine	$10
Slark	Appetites of the Lizard King	$15
Dazzle	Forbidden Medicine	$12

Hero	2019's Collector's Cache Set II	Price
4 Drow Ranger	Sight of the Kha-Ren Faithful	$8
4 Warlock	Tribal Pathways	$7
3 Clockwerk	Directive of the Sunbound	$6
3 Pudge	Dapper Disguise	$12
4 Bloodseeker	Fury of the Bloodforge	$6
4 Broodmother	Automaton Antiquity	$5
3 Pangolier	Tales of the Windward Rogue	$15
4 Wraith King	Grim Destiny	$8
3 Tusk	Distinguished Expeditionary	$5
4 Venomancer	Verdant Predator	$4
4 Batrider	Prized Acquisitions	$4
3 Necrophos	Fowl Omen	$20

Hero	2020's Collector's Cache Set I	Price
Juggernaut	Lineage of the Stormlords	$30
Pudge	Mindless Slaughter	$12
Jakiro	Fissured Flight	$7
Nature's Prophet	Signs of the Allfather	$15
Lina	Glory of the Elderflame	$15
Enchantress	Songs of Starfall Glen	$5
Tiny	Ancient Inheritance	$25

Hero	2020's Collector's Cache Set II	Price
2 Enigma	Evolution of the Infinite	$6
Bristleback	Beast of the Crimson Ring	$6
Timbersaw	Clearcut Cavalier	$7
2 Keeper of the Light	The King Of Thieves	$5
Tidehunter	Horror from the Deep	$10
2 Chaos Knight	Talons of the Endless Storm	$10
2 Rubick	Carousal of the Mystic Masquerade	$6
2 Shadow Demon	Crown of Calaphas	$12
2 Doom	Wrath of the Fallen	$15
2 Sniper	Blacksail Cannoneer	$7
2 Skywrath Mage	Secrets of the Celestial	$5
2 Phoenix	Blaze of Oblivion	$7
4 Templar Assassin	Steward of the Forbidden Chamber	$15
Faceless Void	Claszureme Incursion	$70

Hero	2022's Diretide Collector's Cache I	Price
Monkey King	Champion of the Fire Lotus	$10
Undying	Dirge Amplifier	$10
Chen	Hounds of Obsession	$10
Snapfire	Whippersnapper	$10
Hoodwink	Shadowleaf Insurgent	$15
Phoenix	Crimson Dawn	$10
Witch Doctor	Deathstitch Shaman	$10
Clockwerk	Seadog's Stash	$10
Invoker	Angel of Vex	$30
Marci	Blue Horizons	$30

Hero	2022's Diretide Collector's Cache II	Price
Ogre Magi	Freeboot Fortunes	$10
Night Stalker	Feasts of Forever	$10
Silencer	Grand Suppressor	$10
Vengeful Spirit	Acrimonies of Obsession	$10
Oracle	Transcendent Path	$10
Doom	Dawn of a Darkness Foretold	$10
Legion Commander	Bird of Prey	$10
2 Anti-Mage	Brands of the Reaper	$20

So quick back story. And on mobile so formatting excuses
My partner (f25) and I (m29) have been together for around 7 years. Things have always been rocky from day one but I stupidly stuck around. We never had sex until 2 years into the relationship which should have been my first sign but again I stuck like and idiot.
Since then we have worked together to solve the never existed dead bedroom with it coming and going over the years, she would go through a phase of ultra horny and sex multiple times a week for a month then it would be nothing for around 5/6months before I'd get fed up and have the talk at which point the clock would reset. I finally thought we had cracked last year as things began to normalise to around twice a week for like 7 months then suddenly nothing for a month then back to normal until around 6 weeks ago.
So back in February after a short hiatus of sex we had a chat and I let it be known that at the beginning of the relationship when I mentioned oral sex she said she wasn't feeling ready to introduce it yet and to hold off so being respectful I did. This was then held off for 6 years with it only being brought up to be shut down again and I was finally at a stage where I wanted a straight answer from her was it a yes or no to oral? She said yes but then again avoided it for around 3 weeks before one day she invites me into the bedroom to give some oral. I love it, she said afterwards that she was dreading it but went through with it for me.(bad thing I know) I asked how she felt about it now and she told me that it wasn't what she thought and it was okay for her, she didn't get any enjoyment out of it but was happy to do it anyway.
Since then she's given me a blowjob around 5 times all of which she's complained about how long it takes and asks me constantly if I'm close which of course delays it longer. She would also offer me one then cancel or conveniently forget about it and it would never happen. One night she even said she wanted to do something special for me and asked me to shower and sit at my computer naked playing games. She explained her intention was to act out one of thos crappy porn scenes out there, I was up for this idea thinking at the very least it would be fun to start then we would likely move to the bedroom to finish the deed and more. Instead I sat naked for 3 hours before getting dressed and find her in bed all tucked up and happy never to mention it again.
Since then she's came up with other ideas shes wanted to do such as on the sofa, in the car, outside, all of which she's just so happened to "forget" about when the time comes. So 6 weeks ago she says she has another idea and talks it up to me and I believe her and become extremely excited for it and begin counting down the days to myself but I don't mention it again until the day before where I just confirm she was still on the same page which she confirmed. Once again nothing ever happened and it was never mentioned again. Since then all sex was rejected and stopped all together and now here I am, with literally zero drive (including masturbation).
2 days ago she makes a move and I don't reciprocate because I'm not in the mood. Same again this morning and tonight she just asked me outright if I fancy sex. I'm honest and say no I'm not feeling it right now. She goes off in a massive bad mood and says she's sleeping on the sofa. When I questioned it she says I've changed and I've been acting different over the last few weeks and she just doesn't want to sleep in the same bed now. Now I should note I am usually very touchy with her, I'll cuddle her, playfully slap her ass, play with her boobs etc and it's been a norm for us for years but the last few weeks with my sex drive dying I've not been doing it because I've not felt any desire to and this is what she's referring to.
My question now that it's me that isn't interested in sex why am I being msde out to be the complete dickhead?

TW: sui ideation, brief mentions of abuse, etc
Hi. I have struggled with mental health issues for most of my life following several events such as sexual assaults, being orphaned, foster care, child abuse, etc. as a result I have many disorders and issues that impact my daily life. for the most part I have been able to get through these issues as long as I am accommodated and comfortable. until I started working.
My job is not hard. I work in an amusement park doing retail at our gift shops. I spend most of my shifts blowing bubbles depending on where I’m stationed at, or standing in a half-empty shop. All I have to do is cashier, for around 25-35 hours a week, 12/hr, from 4pm-11pm. It has still managed to completely drain every part of me.
I spend my free time before work dreading work. I get anxiety so horrible that it presents physically and I get nauseated and sickly for several hours straight all the way up until I clock in. I am usually so tired from my night before that I spend my mornings just marinating in fear and a sad excuse for sleep. Every night I get home and either pass out, cry, or stay awake all night to compensate for my lack of free time.
When my job is not busy, I am standing around alone for 6-8 hours. Usually this would be heaven for me, but combined with my uptick in suicidal ideation and whatnot it has been nothing but horrible. I am alone for hours spiraling with my thoughts; I have no one to talk to, I have nobody around me. We have a no phone rule so I cannot reach out to anybody when I feel this way. I suffer from severe OCD so my mind will torment me by giving me intrusive thoughts of past trauma on a loop for hours. Fucking hours. No distractions. Only one fifteen minute break. No ways to cope. Nothing to keep me busy besides recleaning the same 5 items every ten minutes. It’s horrible.
When my job is busy, I have to mask all of my emotions to speak to every customer to the best of my ability. I get stared down for not being fast enough while counting change or folding clothes correctly while the line is out the door and I’m rushing as hard as I can. I have to keep up fake, superficial, meaningless conversations just to manipulate people into buying more things so I don’t get sent home early and lose money. Often times I am nonverbal and unable to communicate but have to force myself to regardless. It is awful.
And then, finally, after eight hours of that, I go home and wake up and do it all over again, for what? $500 biweekly? I can barely afford to treat myself with that, and then I have to imagine a future where I have to SURVIVE off of that. My coworkers work are grown ass adults working doubles from two jobs daily and are still barely getting by. And I’m just supposed to grow into and accept that? What kind of fucking future is that? And god forbid I complain because then everyone just tells me that’s the way life is. Well it shouldn’t be. And if it is why would I want to live it. I don’t indulge in my hobbies anymore. I don’t mentally find them interesting. I don’t talk to my boyfriend. I can’t spend time with my friends.
I’m sorry this post is very jumbled, I’m about to clock in and out my phone away. Let’s hope I make it!
ETA: I can’t afford therapy nor the doctor nor medication, please don’t recommend me any. due to my living circumstances I don’t have easy access to any of those things anyway. :(

I've had my IUD for almost three years and basically, it's out of place now. I spoke today with my Dr to get a new one inserted. I really, REALLY, don't want to get it inserted again. I'm already dreading the appointment and it hasn't even happened yet.
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The first time I had it done was brutal. It was the most painful thing I've ever experienced, I almost passed out. So, I was thinking maybe I'll do the implant, BUT I really don't like the ideas of hormones messing with my body. And I really don't want to do the pill because I know I will forget to take it. Plus, I really want to get sterilized and in the last week I was looking through my health insurance trying to plan things out and I'm wondering it it even worth going through all the pain of the IUD again when I'm going to get something permanent method of birth control anyway?
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I don't want to be without birth control, so I at least want something. I know the choice is ultimately mine, but I'd love to hear second opinions and any experiences you had with the implant, the process of getting it inserted, side effects, etc.

After months of not processing my iPhone 13 trade ins I’ve finally had enough to face my dread of dealing with customer service and called AT&T. One phone is “lost”. They acknowledge that they received it but want another 60 days to find it on my dime. It’s been 6 months already.
The second phone AT&T is claiming was locked and find my iPhone was left on. Here’s the kicker, my husband works for Apple. He does the phone transfers and resets over and over again every work day. I watched him do ours. Customer service says I have no recourse to rectify this. That I just have to take their word for it and they have no proof. This is ridiculous. I even have the Apple employee discount on my plan. They’re crediting me $41 instead of the $2,000 I should have gotten for both phones. One afternoon and $1959 gone. Be VERY careful considering their trade in promotions.

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In the Senate Chambers on Terra:

Senator Ethan Roberts waited for his collogue to finish detailing the known intelligence gathered on the so-called Axxaakk dominion. Enslaved digital sapience, strong evidence of an involuntary nonbiological caste system, and clear extermination tactics. He had to keep his hackles from rising at the mention of an attempted infanticide directly in front of the ambassidors by someone who styled himself "acolyte lord" something or other. This was a thorny subject indeed. Even now, the Lost Boys and Second Star Rapid Response Group were pushing the enemy out of allied territory, but that was the extent of their authority without the authorization of this body and the Interplanetary Congress. An enemy who murdered babies couldn't just be pushed back across the border. They had to be defeated. Even still, not everyone agreed with him. Not everyone saw so clearly.
The floor was given to him, and he began, "Ladies and Gentlemen of the Senate, my fellow Citizens of the Republic,
"I stand before you today address a grave and dire situation that has befallen our gentle civilians and cherished neighbors. It is not merely our sovereign territory which is under threat by the Axxaakk, but any sapient being which draws breath within their reach. We, who have the greatest strength of all Terrans, have witheld our might against our neighbors when they stray from our ideals, excepting in two impositions. We shall not suffer the extermination of populations, and we shall not allow the enslavement of even a single person. What the Axxaakk Dominion has wrought in The Clans of Eldra can only be described as the ritualistic extermination of the local populations. We must confront the fact that whoever finds themselves in their reach, finds their lives in the balance.
"In times like these, when existence itself is in doubt for millions, or perhaps billions of our civilians, or our allies, we must be resolute and unyielding. We have always been a force for justice, peace, and the preservation of innocent life among the stars. The Second Star Rapid Response Group will follow the defensive doctrine, and even now they have halted the enemy advance into Star Council space, yet this is insufficient. As you heard earlier, these Axxakk's foul deity demands that all life be under his heel, that every sapient serve, and in most cases, by dying in ritualistic slaughter. This we cannot tolerate. We must act now to put a stop to these atrocities.
"My fellow citizens, I do not suggest we take up total war lightly. Indeed, I acknowledge that it is a terrible burden, but I fear that a fanatically genocidal enemy such as the Axxaakk appear to be will find conventional warfare unmoving. We may liberate the Clans, we may dive them off, but shall we do this again and again and again, each time hoping that the Axxaakk will finally have learned and abandoned their god's demands for blood? We have seen the evidence seized by the hero Aragorn before his code was destroyed along with the ship he was on. We have seen the ritual murders. We have seen the orbital bombardments. When they strike into our territory, what lengths shall they resort to in their pursuit of murder? Shall we wait for them to deploy radiation bombs? Shall we wait for the bioweapon attacks? The evils already done must not go unanswered!
"Total war authorization will cause collateral damage. We cannot and do not hold the enslaved to blame for their masters, yet we cannot stand by and allow the knife in the enslaved fist to pierce those innocent who depend on us. To authorize total war is to acknowledge the scale of the threat we face, and more importantly that faced by our innocent neighbors. Those who believe that we restrict ourselves to pure military targets mistake this foe for a mere adversary, a rival who needs a small correction. We must force this enemy to capitulate completely, and begin the Three Strikes protocol, lest we slowly be dragged into a war of extermination. The simple fact is this cannot be done without destroying not only the enemy's warfighting material, but their warfighting capability.
"We are at war, ladies and gentlemen, and while our weapons are the most terrible ever seen by mortal eyes, the enemy is undeterred, for wars are merely fought with weapons, but are won by the men holding them, to borrow some words from our ancient past. Today we must rise to the occasion, united in purpose, and unflinchingly undertake what is required. We who have served know well what we are asking of those in uniform today. I also put my life on the line, as did you, for our Republic. This is what we volunteered for.
"My fellow citizens, in this time of great peril, I implore you to stand with me, to stand as a bulwark for our weaker allies, for the fallen. Let us permit those who come behind us to act as we know they must to accomplish this dreadful duty, and may God have mercy on their souls. Remember the We Sing."
There was no applause, no cheers as Senator Roberts took his seat once more, merely the solemn contemplation of the dreadful matter before them as they contemplated their task and duty.
Then, Senator Malik Sabr took the floor, cleared his throat, and also began, "Fellow citizens and honorable members of the Senate,
"I must disagree with the honorable senator, though none who served with him could doubt his resolve, myself least of all. It is true that we cannot stand by while the Axxaakk invade our neighbors and allies, that we cannot let the attack on our Star Sailors go unanswered. Yet, to authorize total war cannot be undone until the enemy either surrenders unconditionally, or is annihilated. This body is no stranger to such foes, but we must resist the urge to strike out in our wrath.
"The Axxaakk invaders have shown themselves to be ruthless and relentless in their pursuit of conquest. Their actions have brought suffering and devastation to our very doorstep, threatening not only our neighbors, but also the very values we hold dear. It is in times like these we must stand resolute in our commitment to our values.
"To authorize total war, while tempting in its strength, carries with it terrible risks. We risk the very principles that make us who we are, a just society which values the lives of the innocent. Instead, let us focus our efforts on aiding our allies, and extending a helping hand to those in the Dominion who no doubt cry out under the heel of their vengeful idol. Let us recall that even now our peaceful neighbors face murder in droves, and only the Republic has the strength and the will to succor them, and Allah as my witness this we must do.
"Our task is clear, to provide assistance, resources, and support to our allies in their struggle against the Axxaakk invasion. We must strengthen their resolve, bolster their defenses, and stand beside them as they defend their homes from this frightful foe. Our commitment to justice compels us to action, indeed, though not in a reckless pursuit of vengeance, but in a measured and strategic manor which will not put our servicemen in the moral hazard of total war.
"Let it be known that we do not shirk the duty to defend. We will continue to strike at military targets, crippling the enemy's ability to wage war. However, we must recognize that victory in this war of defense will not be the end of our labors. The Axxaakk have slaves. Billions of souls unable to choose their own destiny. Devoted they may be, but slaves they remain. Can the annihilation of such wretched creatures be called victory? How many slaves shall these priests spend before they realize they must surrender? Shall we again wipe a sapient race from the stars, and this time in the full knowledge that billions had no choice?
"Together, we can forge a path to victory which does not lay this terrible weight upon our loyal servicemen. Today we can ensure the safety of our people, and those of our allies. Let us utilize our might to bring the Axxaakk to the bargaining table, and perhaps there we can secure the liberty of those beneath the priests' heel.
"Fellow citizens, I urge you to embrace this alternate path, this optimistic path to be sure, such that we continue to safeguard innocent lives under the sway of the blood-soaked idol. If this path proves doomed, we can yet abandon it in favor of total war, yet if we authorize total war today, can you bring back the dead?
"Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, and may Allah give us wisdom in the coming vote."
Again, as Senator Sabr took his seat once more, the Senate chambers was silent. Senator Roberts gave his friend a respectful nod. He understood where his urging for caution came from, and he did not disdain Senator Savr's compassion. Yet, Senator Roberts could see the inevitability of Total War. This level of fanaticism required decisive crushing to shake its adherents out of their stupor. There were further speeches, by further senators, all received in perfectly silence, until the president of the senate called an end to deliberation, and they cast their votes.
"May God have mercy on our souls as well," Senator Roberts whispered as they waited for the tally. Victory would come, and he prayed that the cost could be born.
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I started painting Warhammer not too long ago, and I feel like this should be a good read to anybody looking to get into the hobby. I have had stumbles, triumphs, and regrets when diving into painting. I will have some bullet points, must haves and don't do's that I believe everyone should follow.
DO NOT

• Buy from GW Directly - look on Ebay for cheaper prices or friendly game stores for models. Will always be 15%+ cheaper for New in Box or New on Sprue models. One step further would be joining Facebook trade groups as you will always find good deals there.
• Build a pile of shame - Stick to 2-3 boxes and keep it there. Don't get sucked into FOMO boxes or building a massive horde of unpainted minis that sit there. I started buying anything I can, and with my slow painting style as a beginner, I cannot realistically paint these all. I ended up selling a majority of my boxes on Ebay and Facebook. BE REALISTIC, you don't need that new combat patrol that will sit in your corner.
• Buy a huge pile of paints - Stick with the Vallejo starter set and some washes. You should be learning early how to mix colors and something I wish I did at the beginning. I amassed 90+ colors that 90% never get used. Buy a color you know you will be using for that model.
• Buy GW hobby tools/Primer - Go to Lowes or a hardware store. Will save you way more for better quality items.

BUILDING AND ASSEMBLING RECOMMENDATIONS

• Multiple Grade Sandpaper Packs - Can buy these on Amazon or go to a hardware store. 500 to 1000 grade sandpaper sheets are amazing for smoothing down surfaces.
• Tamiya Extra Thin Plastic Cement - Way better than tube plastic glue as it isn't prone to spilling out and warping models and far better to control.
• Zip Kicker for Super Glue - No longer do I need to hold my fingers together in agony for 5+ minutes with metal models or resin. This will allow the bond to stay in 5 seconds.
• Don't get too into sub assembly of models - This can slow down painting time substantially and honestly most infantry is far easier to paint if you can assemble as much of the mini as possible.
• Medicine Bottles/Blu Tac for painting handles - A very cheap and secure way of painting minis as I tend to paint 5 at a time.
• BONUS**\* - If you can afford it, the Tamiya Hand Drill for drilling barrels and pinning is the BEES KNEES. I used to use a manual drill, but after going electric, it saves my finger and wrist pain and cuts down substantially on time.

PAINTING TIPS

• Thin your Paints - Just use water for now, that is all you will need for acrylic paints, don't get into the spending habit of thinner and other mediums. You are a beginner, and this will do for now.
• Use Cheap Synthetic Brushes - I use Hobby Lobby brushes and they are sufficient enough to get the job done. I buy a multi-pack of different sizes for base coat - detail - and highlighting. If you can get one sable brush, get a size 1 and it will last you forever. I have seen amazing award-winning painters use the shittiest brushes and make magnificent pieces.
• Be gentle when applying paint to the brush - I usually don't allow the paint to go past the mid belly of the brush; NEVER ALLOW IT TO GO INTO THE FERRULE.
• Buy Cheap Makeup Brushes for Dry Brushing - This is a far better tool for dry brushing bases and models than any advertised dry brush will do.

NEVER

• Throw away brushes or tools - no matter how ratchet they can get, they will always have a purpose. You can start using them to apply PVA glue to bases or can be used to basecoat.
• Toss Sprue in the garbage - So many guides out there on how to make terrain or cool additions with sprue, even later use can use it as sprue glue to seal gaps in models!

HABIT MINDSET TO ALWAYS BE IN THE FRONT OF YOUR MIND

• Is there a cheaper alternative to this task? Be that basing your models or looking at alternative tools or solutions. Search on YouTube or google to see if anybody found cheaper ways of making your models stand out.
• There is no such thing as a perfect model - Stick to a timeframe of when a model is done, don't worry about if it is good enough, remember this is a hobby. You need to get into the habit of enjoying painting, not dreading every time you want to put paint to a brush.
• Record what you used to paint your models - I use One Note to keep track of every paint process I have done with models. Helps me remember color schemes I did that I enjoyed. Will save you headaches in the future.
• Don't get bogged down in exact color schemes of models - while its good as a beginner, painting by numbers gets boring real fast. I started visualizing the color in my head and using test models to experiment. It is incredibly satisfying and color theory can help you develop your pallet.

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I can add so much more to this list, and I am sure others in the comments will post their recommendations. I hope this helps you out there. Happy Painting!

If you could have any hairstyle for the rest of your life, what would it be?

I'm beginning training to be an accounting professor this fall. I'm starting a PhD, so I'll TA for a while, teach a few classes later in the program, then be a professor full time when I graduate.
I'm beginning to think about what sort of professor I want to be. I thought back to the good professors I had, and a few ideas came to mind that I want to do myself:
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1. Give practice exams that are a lot like the tests (same questions different numbers/values)
2. Break up the class with fun topics or useful applications of finance/accounting to life (Example: how do IRAs work)
3. Give advice on navigating careers (either accounting or related fields)
4. Teach some excel skills that will actually be useful in the workforce
5. Use financial statements from a few companies all semester to illustrate examples to build on over time

What else would people like in an accounting professor? I don't want to be the professor everyone dreads.

Ever since our childhood, me and Daniel loved to play in nature. We went everywhere, we saw fields, we saw creeks, we even got lost in the forest a few times like the idiots we were.
But something that really caught our attention as kids was the orchard situated about a kilometer away from my house, it belonged to our neighbor, Mr. Tanaka, a wealthy man who remained humble and kind to us. We would go there from time to time, and when Mr. Tanaka let us inside, we would see all the trees in it and it was quite magical.
The one thing that made Mr. Tanaka stand out from everyone else, was that he was quite the flamboyant man, he liked to decorate each one of his trees with unique pieces of cloth and symbols, it seemed to us like he knew every single one personally. The way they were shaped was also extremely bizarre, it almost seemed like each tree had its own story to tell. for a while, i thought Mr. Tanaka could speak to them, because he handled them with such care..I couldn’t help but be moved by this man’s devotion.
One day, the both of us went to him with small apple saplings in our hands. We asked him if he could allow us to plant these in his orchard. He chuckled and told us that we could do that, but only once we were fully grown up and could handle the responsibility of taking care of them. “Just like a tree needs to be mighty and strong to bear its fruit, you’ll have to be great and wise to bear your own fruit..The fruit that lies in you.” He told me pointing at my heart.
I truly took those words to heart, no pun intended. And I've been thinking about them since that day. Actually, now that i’ve mentioned it, I've never even seen a single fruit pop out from Mr. Tanaka’s orchard. maybe he uses those trees for something other than fruit, like paper or wood?
Today, I've come back from college to my quaint little neighborhood. I meet with Daniel again, and we decide to check out Mr. Tanaka’s orchard, for old time’s sake. Now we’re in the car, Daniel drives and I'm messing around, recording with my camera like I'm filming some stupid urban exploration vlog.
I ask Daniel about what Mr. Tanaka’s been up to lately, he answers that he’s been secluding himself as of late, for whatever reason, but Daniel jokingly theorizes that maybe his old age caught up to him. but he’s been a different person lately, no more joy. While he’s still taking care of his trees, Daniel tells me he’s been more of a robotic servant chained by his duty than the green-fingered tree enthusiast from our childhood.
We’re now approaching the gate to the orchard. It's already night by the time we’re here, but I suppose the moonlight’s gonna be enough for us to see. I get out and a nostalgic scent enters my nose, I'm reliving all of my moments here in an instantaneous flash. The trees glow faintly under the moon’s gentle light and we sneak into the orchard. I hear the wind whistle just above my ear. The sight is nothing short of breathtaking, a thousand trees, all personalized with vibrant colors, and charms, and symbols, basking in the night, devoid of anything else.
Daniel suggests we don’t wander too far lest we get lost, But we walk and walk and admire each tree’s design, i remember this one! And that one! And all of these here! Are we being pulled further and further into the orchard by their beauty?
Now we’re about 2 kilometers from the gate, I never even realized the orchard extended this far, now it’s getting quite dark and the wind blows harder. My heart is beating faster but I'm not sure if it’s from excitement or fear. Daniel abruptly stops, “I think we should go back now..” he tells me, we look at each other for a brief moment. We’re suddenly startled by the sound of wind chimes hanging from the trees. We look around us, it’s like the trees are speaking to us, welcoming us with a ritualistic chant.
I feel the cold wind in the back of my neck get colder, my heart is beating so fast now. I can’t help but feel that something isn’t right anymore. I look at my arms and I've got the pointiest goosebumps I've ever had. I approach one of the trees and feel it with my hands. This tree feels oddly warm, I run my palm through it and feel vibrations..I’m hearing something now..I put my ear against the tree..Is that a slow, heavy, drum beat i’m hearing? No..It’s more like a heartbeat.
My eyes widen and my throat feels narrow, I shiver. I’m hit with a wave of dread. I must get out..I hear Daniel call out for me. I find him staring at a young sapling on the ground, now I'm hellbent on leaving, “Daniel, let’s get out of here now!”
But Daniel is unresponsive, it’s as if he’s caught in a trance, i see him fall to his knees, He screams in pain, I run to him...The sapling’s leaves are stabbing into his face, penetrating his face, he lets out the most agonizing yelp i’ve ever heard..The sapling’s trunk fuses with Daniel’s face. It grows and grows and lifts his body into the air. I can’t do anything but stare in disbelief, am I dreaming?
Daniel’s limp body starts to contort, soon I see his veins bulging out of him. I still hear his muffled screaming, he spasms like a puppet and bloody chunks of wood start to burst out of his flesh. His back splits in half and his ribcage opens up..I’m watching my best friend be viciously killed before me. Daniel’s ribs have turned into solid wood and leaves are springing out of them. There’s nothing left of him anymore.
I stare at the tree next to me for a moment, my mind is destroyed now, i stand up and walk away, i don’t even have the strength to run. But I feel a surging, pulsing pain in my legs. I look down and see that my veins have come out of my body and buried themselves deep in the soil. Everything goes blank.
I am awake again, but I can't move, I can't speak, I can only see what’s around me..Oh..That’s right, i’ve turned into a tree now.
From one of my branches sprouts a fruit..It’s like an apple, but it’s veiny and bloody, and it pumps, it beats. I see Mr. Tanaka approaches, he stares at me with a blank look on his face. He plucks the apple from my branch and a jet of blood splurts out of me.
“You’re back.” he says, a faint smile forming on his face.

I post now following a new development following right-sided laparoscopic inguinal hernia surgery 5 1/2wks ago.
15yrs+ ago I had laparoscopic mesh repair on the left side inguinal hernia.
5 1/2wks ago I had laparoscopic mesh repair on the right side inguinal hernia.
I am very active, run often and cycle.
I went to a specialist clinic in Germany for this recent surgery after they advised I get the surgery ASAP (I wanted to wait until next year). Anyway, the surgery 'went well', according to the experts. 4 days after surgery I went for a routine check up involving ultrasound on both sides and he told me it looked good and I was fine. After 7days or so I was experiencing a new pain on the left side (where I was operated 15yrs+ ago). I also started to feel a dreaded slight bulge but couldn't believe it was a hernia, seeing as I was just operated on and I was assured by the surgeon that he checked that side and it was fine. However, I wanted to be extra careful so returned to the clinic and explained the pain / issue. The Dr said that the left side would have been checked as routine during surgery. He proceeded with an ultrasound again (no physical check for some reason) and told me there was no sign of a tear and it was likely post-surgery healing etc. I asked about the sensation of a small bulge, he replied, "I don't know".
This wasn't good enough for me.
I managed to find a slot at a very well known hospital for a 2nd opinion. Yesterday was the appointment (5.5wks post-surgery on right side) and I was throughly checked. Within 5mins the Dr said he wanted to take me for ultrasound. Almost instantly he spotted something and told me the dreaded news, "I think it might be a recurring hernia (left side)". He called his colleague who confirmed. I was in total disbelief. After just coming out of surgery to be told that I will need to have a recurring hernia fixed. Really upset, angry, frustrated and powerless is the best way to describe the feeling. Not only would it require surgery but they will need to open me up (non-laparoscopic) since it is recurring. Also, there is higher chance of it recurring once it's fixed since.
I have had to take time off work and it has caused a huge amount of stress and upset. A big thing for me this year was running the NYC Marathon. I have already booked flights (from Europe), hotel etc. Not that they care but I told the Dr this ahead of my surgery, that I need to be ready and he assured me I would be fine. Running is so dear to me, not only for physical but mental health too and I feel like it is being robbed from me. Not only this, but I can't believe the incompetence of the clinic, a hernia specialist. How can they miss it after 3 ultrasounds and laparoscopic surgery where they check the area?!
I am seriously thinking about filing a malpractice report so am reaching out here to see if it is worth my time.
I also just wanted to share my experience. After two mesh repairs I have a recurring hernia which will now require open surgery and God knows how many other problems.
If you have read this far, thanks, feel free to advise based on the info I have shared or let me know if you have any questions.

MIL and I had a pretty good relationship prior to baby. However, I did notice some things that were ehh (ex. she would cut me off/talk over me in conversation, and also got the vibe her son is more important than me). My husband is also the only child and his parents are not able to work due to medical reasons.
Ever since LO came along, I dread seeing them and feel so tense when they’re around. The things that changed are:

• MIL is more invasive and energetic Ex: if we’re changing a diaper, they’re right behind us or if we’re on a walk, they’re right behind us with non stop interaction with LO and she likes to clap directly in baby’s face which annoys me. I get it they haven’t seen baby in a while and they’re excited but it’s too much sometimes especially since I normally don’t like people being at a distance where they can breathe down my neck.
  
• MIL is too shy to tell/ask me anything (they’re naturally passive and shy) Ex: they were watching LO and I went to take a nap upstairs but told them if they need anything they can bother me. Once I was done with my nap and approached them, they finally told me she was fussy and hungry. Hence, I don’t fully trust her watching LO.
  
• i texted MIL on mothers day and she said ty. Then my husband called her and his dad said happy mothers day to me and MIL said “oh I forgot your a mother now. Happy Mother’s Day”. That hurt but I’ll give the benefit of the doubt she forgot..
  

Thanks for listening to this vent. I talked to my husband about it and he wants to tell them so we can work towards fixing the relationship but how do we even start that conversation?

Hey guys, this isn't my first post here, or even my first attempt at a serial, I'm just incredibly bad at follow-through and put the pro in procrastination. That being said: Enjoy!! I will try and put these out in a reasonably amount of time. Also, sadly this first part won't have any humans directly, as I became...verbose. Subsequent parts shall.
First: some long-winded background. I am not an artist or engineer, so I will do my best but really work that suspension of disbelief.
They say any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic. If that is the case, then the races that made up the TransGalactic Federation were archmagi of legend. These races created monuments of inconceivable power and presence, capable of quelling all newcomers to the stage, or those with hostile intent. However, magic has a far greater property than mere power: flair. Magic is loud, bold and unafraid, yet it can also be subtle and unassuming, refined. The greatest engineers and technicians, eventually hybridizing into the current artnician, collaborated with the artisans of the age to create not just architectural masterpieces, but space stations of indescribable beauty and function. Even their objects of more utilitarian functions were made beautiful.
One would think such cultures would be beyond conflict, having embraced so delicate and refined a focus as aesthetic. However, that is not the case, as heated debates regarding artistic talent, originality, medium, presentation, any number of hot topics in the academia of artistry, became very real, very serious reasons for hostile actions. Wars broke out across the Federation, battles fought over resources not for survival, but for art. Ideologies, once minor, began to take hold over vast swathes of the population. Some were logical: radicalized cultures that sought to eliminate anything did not originate from them, or that deviated from their accepted beliefs, and the forces that developed in kind to combat them. Others were decidedly unexpected: the once-accepting, pacifistic race known as the Borthians soon became known as The Scour and began systematically genociding any culture whose artistic style was other than naturalism, artistic expression bereft of a civilized touch beyond trailblazers and colonizers or the remains of society overtaken by nature. The dreaded Gl’trills, who were almost deemed inhospitable to life and exterminated, favored a <ERROR: comparable word does not exist; inputting acceptable alternative> neoclassic style with virtually no external influences on style or subject outside their race and led the first League of Acceptance, standing their grounds and ultimately dooming their race to protect the cultures of others from erasure. Bastions of cultural excellence, examples of art and literature throughout the history of countless member races, including more than a few who were rendered extinct through ennui, disease, or time, were razed, while others were plundered for greed or safety.
This conflict has been raging for millenia, with cultures rising and falling, sides changing as do the cultural views and tastes. Genetic modification, now viewed as much an art as war, has been used to tailor various races to select or varied purposes. Beauty is both subjective and objective, as function is its own form of beauty. Art and war have gone hand in hand for generations, with some races using literal battlefields as their canvas, and the dead as their medium. It was onto one such scene that humanity first stumbled into the collective knowledge of The Culture Wars. This ugly, unmodified, plain alien race, with its crude, inefficient ships sought to join the battle against the Scourge and other, similarly minded threats. Function may be beautiful, but even the most magnanimous of artists cannot turn a blind eye to such an eyesore. As such, humanity was allowed onto the stage, but was met with scorn only the most arrogant of professionals can show to a novice who does not know their place. Humanity is young, it is technologically inferior, it is weak. It will have to claw its way to survival among the lesser races of the universe.
But Humanity has a secret its fickle allies and rabid enemies have overlooked. A mastery that has been ingrained in Humanity since its earliest common ancestors fought for resources, for survival. A talent it has nurtured, for good or ill, an art style that the other races has couched in flowery prose, stunning calligraphy, and ultimately pointless beauty:
The Art of War
Dramatis Personae:
Skrik’rika: Triu’quoll anatochanic, TransGalactic Federation (League of Acceptance), Logistics
Tuvix: Trolk Sculptech, local League of Acceptance, drafted civilian
For convenience and efficiency, units have been translated and converted to the viewer’s preference.
Interesting fact: the plural of opus is an opera! Which actually makes sense.
Local system: Trolk’a
“Move your asses! League pieces are incoming, they report heavy damage!” Skrik’rika’s head started pounding, and he groaned as he forced himself out of his nook. Fitting his visor over his ears, the Triu’quoll pulled on his jumpsuit and heavy boots, checking the onboard chronometer and sighing at the lost sleep. Downtime was uniform among League forces and dependent on the local solar day length and proximity to the nearest front, which meant he was currently limited to 1 12.5% rotation (4.5-hour) “free” shift per as he was currently crewing a forward operating repair depot. Said shift was on a fixed schedule, which meant unless the incoming opera were in immaculate condition, he’d be looking at less than 2 hours of sleep for the next…
Skrik jerked awake as something sharp and painful jabbed him in the bicep. He lurched away, swiping a nearby sensor probe and brandishing it at his attacker. Tuvix, one of the tusked locals 4-armed and his shift partner, tossed away the now empty stim ampule and grinned.
“Feeling better?”
Skrik scoffed, rubbing his throbbing shoulder but clear-headed and alert once more, and followed Tuvix to the repair bays module. “Any idea what we’re dealing with?” Tuvix’s 2 left hands pointed in opposite directions, indicating some ambiguity in any answer he could provide. By the time they arrived, Skrik started to understand just how screwed they were.
Sitting in their bay was one of the few remaining Gl’trillian gladiatorial suits. According to his suit’s telemetry feed from the allied opus, it was known as Honor of the Patient Stroke. Massive for a solo-pilot suit, the Honor measured 18m base height, with various weaponry and accoutrement increasing its bulk further. The only reason it fit in the repair bay that was 15 meters max on any side was due to its missing lower half and left arm. The on-site corpsman was already tending to the unresponsive pilot, neural links spidering back into the cockpit. Skrik could smell ozone and judging by the charring presented on the cables, he doubted the noble reptilianoid would wake up, much less return to combat. However, Gl’trillian rites dictated any remains be returned posthaste, and all wounded be rescued immediately. A dying race could afford no luxuries in holding off extinction, and every member had to contribute, even if it was genetic material to stave off annihilation.
Skrik and the rest of the double shifts waited for the pilot and medic to board the rescue craft for evac, before they started working. In addition to the Honor, several other mechs had limped, bobbed, or been dragged to their FORD. These pilots were still able and willing, save an avian Kuri whose broken body had been somberly removed and set aside, and were merely waiting for their opus to be repaired or replaced.
Over the next 6 hours, Skrik and Tuvix worked on disassembling the least grievously damaged constructs, diagnosing and repairing internal damages, and replacing armored components. As an anatochanic, Skrik’s responsibilities overlapped with other fields, which was also why he worked closely with Tuvix. Anatochanics were those who had an affinity for understanding and replicating the feats of flesh and blood in alloy and <translation error: engine/hydraulic oil/fuel/coolant/lubricant/plasma; UPDATE: new terminology determined; ORIGIN: Sanskrit> Pādodaka, and they were responsible for the the synthetic muscles, tendons and ligaments, and the hardpoints where these components were integrated to the endoskeleton. Some anatochanics even had an aptitude for running neural cables, the incredibly delicate and sensitive filaments that would be run throughout the synth muscles, connecting the pilot mind and body to their steed. Skrik could proudly claim to be one of these, although he was still too inexperienced to be trusted running the synthetic equivalents of the PNS and CNS without oversight.
Tuvix was a sculptech, which were often looked down upon by other artnicians within their field. Sculptechs were responsible for forming and fitting armor plates, the skin as it were, to opera. The skill needed to fabricate and fit bespoke armor plates to non-standard constructs could not be dismissed, but skills that did not require finesse, color selection, harmonic interactions were seen as lesser, “lazy” arts. Skrik would admit that there were other artnicians and tasks that were by far more finicky and beautiful than armor plating, but anyone with eyes could see the skill and passion Tuvix possessed. He could match alloy ratios almost by sight, allowing for quicker smelting or forging while an analysis would verify his work, or when given permission by pilots, providing improvements for the armor plates, be they reduced weight, better defenses, or even improving a opus’s range of motion and balance by reshaping plates and still maintaining the original aesthetic.
Tuvix went beyond these abilities, having skill in etching and neural linking. His unique combination of talents allowed Tuvix to continue the intricate designs prevalent on most opera without interruption on new plates and ensuring that pilots could actually feel and interact with their environments and foes by running external sensor feeds through the engravings. More than one warrior had been saved by these neural links informing them of dangerous temperatures, a change in terrain or balance, and even incoming attacks by sensing increases in ambient electrical charges or sensations of wind from an incoming blow.
They had just finished repairs on the remaining opus, the pilot gingerly reconnecting their neural links and running diagnostics, when the defense sensors went off.

Hello everyone,
As the title suggests, I’m a 21 year old female and my entire life, I’ve been on the zero percentile for weight. Currently, I’m 5’5 and 103 pounds.
Recently I’ve become upset, as after I got off my birth control pill, I dropped 10 pounds. I’ve always been thin, and when I got on birth control I felt great because I gained 10 pounds and went up to 112. It was amazing, but when I came off, I lost all of it. Now, I’m even lower than I was before I got on the pill. Pre pill, I was 106 and now I can’t even get to that.
On that note, I don’t LOOK unhealthy. Like yeah I’m skinny but it’s not like my ribs are sticking out. I’m proportional and people usually guess I’m around 110, and are shocked to hear I’m closer to double digits instead.
It’s not something I’m insecure about looks wise, but it is something that makes me anxious. I have pretty severe health anxiety, and part of me is always scared that because I’m so skinny, I’m more at risk of developing dangerous illnesses? Everyday, I dread stepping on the scale and am hit my a wave of anxiety about my weight. Today I weighed myself in at 102.3 and I almost had a panic attack.
It’s not abnormal for me to be thin, but my BMI says I’m underweight, and it scares me. I know BMI is kind of a load of horse crap, especially because we have thin genetics in my family so it’s not that big of a deal. My doctors also don’t seem to concerned with my weight.
Am I just being a worry wart or should I actually be freaking out about this?? Sometimes I get embarrassed about my weight, especially because everyone points it out since it’s apparently okay to do that because I’m “skinny and should be happy with how thin I am” blah blah blah toxic American beauty standard crap.
Anyway, is anyone else extremely thin for their height?

My fingers drummed on the cold steel table in my specialized prison cell, my daily dose of blood having not been sent to me. A dry thirst burned in my throat, my ruby eyes dilating at the vampire in a cheap business suit plopping down across from me. Playing with my amethyst waves, he traced his slender finger along the nape of his neck. His ruby eyes glistened with excitement, his slicked back ivory hair reminded me of everything I hated about the government.
“Pretty hungry, Morticia Deathbite?” He taunted cruelly, hatred burning in my eyes. “I have a deal for you. The government will exonerate you of all your charges if you agree to become my wife for a mission. There is one catch, you have to let me bite you. Oh forgive my manners. I am Agent Stanton Lifewick, a member of Night Squad. The vampires in the program work to hunt down serial killers that the police can’t seem to get. Will you join me?” Growling through gritted teeth, my inky lips curled into a defiant snarl. Spitting in his face, wicked laughter rumbled in his throat.
“You can rot in hell. You guys put me in this jail cell for only drinking the blood of serial killers. Fuck you.” I retorted venomously, his hands wiping away the spit. “You can leave now, you rotten bastard!” Snatching the collar of my orange jumpsuit, he yanked me close to his face. The corner of his lips twitched with fury, a raw tension thickening between us. Shooting daggers into each other's eyes, my elbow slammed into his face. Crashing back, I sprinted out the door. Red light bathed the concrete halls, a shrill alarm blaring in my ears. Unlocking the other criminals on my way out, the distraction would be my way out. Security guards attempted to stop me, one punch smashing them into the wall. A Cheshire Cat grin spread cheek to cheek at the open gate, my bare feet smashing through. Feeling the pale moonlight on my skin pleased me, Stanton called for me to stop. Flipping him off, I leapt into the trees. Hopping from branch to branch, my heart stopped at him blocking my path. Straightening up, claws extended from my black fingernails. Cracking my neck, he pulled out a gun with holy water soaked wooden bullets.
“I can’t let you escape.” He snapped hotly, a bead of sweat dripping off of his brow. “Join me now or I’ll shoot you.” Putting my hands up in the air as a dare, maniacal laughter burst from my lips. Shrugging my shoulders, he watched me crack my fingers one by one. Leaning forward, something was stopping him. My face fell at the sound of guns clicking underneath me, the sheer amount of agents scaring me. Placing my hands behind my back, my claws receded back into their place.
“Just take me back so I can fucking die.” I grumbled under my breath, Stanton putting his gun away. Leaping closer to me, even my speed wouldn’t allow me to dodge all of their bullets. Standing behind me, his fangs grazed the nape of my neck. His hot breath bathed my neck, the agents’ fingers all ready to shoot me. Too many black suits, I thought irritably to myself. Freedom and blood was all I desired, the bastards stripping both from me.
“Just fucking say yes, you idiot!” He growled huskily in my ear, his hand sliding down the small of my waist. “You get freedom and all the blood you need from me.” His invisible strength threatened to break my back, my body trembling in his hold. Something about it dulled my hatred for him. Concern flashed in his eyes for a moment, tears welling up in my eyes. Peeking into his soul, a white aura surrounded him. Bowing my head in shame, my bangs hid my eyes. Live a life alone in prison or experience life again? Did the world hate me as much as I hated it?
“Fine.” I uttered in with defeat, a sickening dread bubbling in my gut. “You win but you better treat me like one of you. I refuse to be a slave and a prisoner.” Sinking his fangs into my neck, the disgusting sound of him drinking my blood drowned out the agents putting their guns back. Inky bats flew across my breasts, a solid black band forming on his finger. An indescribable bond formed between us, silent tears streaming down my cheeks. This contract reminded me of how my first master used me to kill innocent people for defying the church, his gentle touch scaring me out of my trance.
“Are you okay?” He whispered kindly in my ear, the sudden shift in his personality ringing the alarm bells. “I am going to get you to the car and we will sign a marriage contract to get our license. I don’t bite. Well, unless I have to. I am aware you have been alive since medieval times so the concept of living off your mate’s blood is new. It actually makes you ten times stronger. Imagine that power coursing through you.” Tossing me over his shoulder, he jumped off the branch.
“Operation Get Hitched is a success!” He announced with a warm smile, a tender blush rising to my cheeks. “Go home to your families.” Carrying me to the car, my waves bounced up and down with every step. Sitting me down in the passenger seat of a generic black armored SUV, my hair blew back as he slammed the door shut. Sliding into his seat, he pulled out a pile of papers from the center console. Passing me the pile, I knew the drill. Signing on the dotted lines, a knock stole his breath away. Rolling down the window, a fellow agent stamped the paper. Dropping two velvet boxes into my lap, the papers fluttered in the other agent’s hands. Closing his window, he held my hand up. Opening up the closest box to him, he slid on an onyx band of twisted branches. Grasping the remaining box, my jaw dropped at the matching band. Sliding on his finger shakily, surprise rounded his eyes. Thorns dug into my fingers, his face showing the same fate for him. Sniffing the ring, it reeked of an eternal curse. Fantastic, we were bound together forever.
“Can I ask you a question?” I choked out awkwardly, a warm gaze falling on me. “Why me? I am not the only vampire there. I can think of s-” Putting his finger up in the air, the ring glittered in the pale moonlight. Grabbing my shoulder, any cockiness he had was gone. It almost seemed to be a mask in front of the boys, his private personality seeming naturally sweet.
“I picked you because I saw your beautiful face in a pile of files. Also you are the oldest vampire alive, so that helped. I find you rather amazing. I don’t agree with you killing all those serial killers but you had to eat. Am I right?” He mused tenderly, is crooked grin stopped time as the urge to kiss him dominated my mind. “How about you drink something? I had them starve you for a couple of days. I am sorry about that.” Guiding my head to the nape of his neck, his vein throbbed violently. Biting him now would seal the deal from my side, the scent of a summer day wafted up my nose. Piercing his tender flesh, my pupils enlarged at the first sip, the sweet taste of lemonade coated my throat. Wrapping my arms around his neck, short gasps poured from his lips. Drinking my fill, a satisfied sigh flowed freely from me. He was right, your mate’s blood tasted like nothing else. Scarlet blood stained the corner of his lips, my hands cupping his face. Pressing my lips against his sensually, his arm slid down to the small of my waist. Refusing to let me go, his tongue danced in my mouth. Time stopped, our heartbeats were all I could hear. Releasing him from the spell, he sat back in a daze with a goofy grin. Scarlet burned his cheeks, my impulsive behavior having landed me in some hot water for sure.
“Sorry for that.” I apologized profusely, hoping that he wouldn’t hate me for acting on my inner thoughts. “I get a little impu-” Kissing me back with twice as much passion, my body arched towards him. The seat belt was the only thing that held me back, his heart beating faster than mine. Another knock interrupted him, a flustered Stanton rolled the window down.
“What!” He yelled sharply, the ivory haired female’s ruby eyes flitting between me and him. “Selena, you need to give your older brother privacy.” Her petite five two figure didn’t scream power but boy did her intense color changing aura. Sticking out her tongue, a deeper scarlet colored his cheeks. Blinking a couple of times, she leaned into the car.
“I am Selena Dogood, his baby sister. You must be the infamous Morticia he never stopped talking about. Honestly, he never shut up.” She teased lightly, her short leather dress fluttering in the breeze. “Would you like to h-” Covering her mouth with his hand, a stern gaze shut her offer down.
“I would but I need to get to the hell I am calling suburbia. You know the reason I married her in the first place. They suspect the serial killer is living in that godforsaken town.” He informed her briskly, cursing under his breath. “I might like her a bit. Do you have her clothes? People are going to stare if I bring her out in a prison jumpsuit.” Dropping a silky emerald dress into his lap, a horrendous flashback of the church dressing me in lingerie for special guests to view haunted me. Horrendous slurs had been carved into my skin, the people throwing rotten tomatoes at me. Clutching my chest, a tight embrace snapped me back to reality. Selena put her hands up into the air, walking back to her own SUV. Kissing the top of my head, the nature of our bond made this moment unbearably sweet. His slender six foot seven frame towered over me by a good foot, thus his embrace felt like Heaven. Shaking my head, I shoved him off. Undoing my seat belt, he turned his back as I peeled off the jumpsuit. Tossing it into the back, I tugged on the sweetheart neckline dress. The silk felt soft against my skin, the material a far better cry from the rough cotton of my previous outfit. The straps failed to cover the number the prison had branded me with, my fingers tracing the faint numbers. Not seeing what I did wrong, the people should have applauded me. Furthermore, I needed to eat.
“You look beautiful.” He commented pleasantly, his eyes falling on the numbers branded on my chest. “They didn’t tell me that they did that to the first vampires in prison. I promise to make your life better. Can you cook?” His question threw me off as the engine roared to life, the trees turning into a sea of houses. Rolling my eyes, most of them were close enough to pass a damn cup of sugar through the bathroom window. The ranches nauseated me further, my heart sinking at the car pulling up to a flamingo pink ranch. My face scrunched in disgust, my eyes falling on a red headed woman with piercing blue eyes. Her curls bounced around her shoulders, her ample cleavage hanging out of a tight tank top. Pouting in my direction, something seemed off about her. Perhaps it was because her aura was darker than the bottom of the ocean. Hopping out to the car, his hand ripped open the car door. Sliding on the shoes, a scowl planted itself on her lips.
“Who’s Shirley Temple across the street?” I inquired softly, his eyes rolling. “She seems to like you.” Rolling his eyes, a wicked grin spread cheek to cheek as he rose to his feet. Pinning me to the car, his lips kissed mine hungrily. Time stopped, the sound of the night fading to the background. Releasing me from his spell, her death glare sent chills up my spine. Lifting my finger, he purposely showed off our wedding rings. Glee glittered in his eyes at her obvious bewilderment, he flipped her off on the way into the house. The outside must have been deceptive because all sorts of taxidermy lined the Victorian style wallpaper, the dark wooden bookshelves were lined with first editions of books. Sitting me down on what was his original emerald velvet couch, my hands rubbing the carved bats on the armrest. Crossing my legs, my eyes fell on the coffin coffee table. Laying down, sweet slumber stole me away.
Snapping awake, a flurry of impatient knocks frightened the shit out of me. The bright sunshine blinded me, a fluke in my DNA allowing me not to burn in the sun. Rushing to the door, the redhead from the night before knocked once more. Opening the door, I leaned on the door frame. Horror rounded her eyes at my porcelain skin and black lips, her perfect ass shoving her way in. Following her into an all black kitchen, she called out Stanley. Cocking my brow in response, a messy haired Stanton wandered into the hall. Defiance glittered in his eyes, my eyes taking in the same emerald wallpaper from the living room now lining the hall.
“You are a cockadoody for your disrespectful behavior from last night.” She complained bitterly, her eyes snapping back to me. “Did you find her on an albino dating site? Why haven’t I seen her?” Rubbing his bare muscular chest, he examined her pristine white dress and black sun hat. My heart fluttered at the sight of him, part of me wishing he wouldn’t slick his hair back anymore. A matching branded set of numbers sat on his chest, curiosity twinkling in my eyes.
“Why don’t you leave, Susie?” He asked politely, popping a white tablet into his mouth. “I need you and your husband to leave me alone today.” Narrowing her eyes in his direction, he motioned towards the door. Something seemed off with her, her aura sickening me. Cupping my mouth, he noticed my reaction to her presence. Not only that, the scent of her blood reminded me of a corpse. Walking up next to her, I pushed Stanton out of the way.
“What is your name?” I demanded viciously, folding my arms across my chest. True love lit up in his eyes for the first time, the crack of her slap stunning me into a temporary silence. Her chest huffed up and down, my crazed grin infuriating her further. Pinning me to the wall, I stole the opportunity to peek into her soul. A shadow blocked me from seeing into it, my face falling.
“I am Susan Smith, the leader of the neighborhood watch. I am watching you. I am a black belt by the way.” She warned icily, my unimpressed expression peeving her off further. “What is so funny?” Knowing that she would charge me if I touched her, I cleared my throat.
“Hello to you then.” I chirped cheerfully, turning on my people-friendly smile. “I think you should go now. I work the night shift and you and your creepy neighborhood watch can go fuck yourself. You can keep your hungry eyes off my husband.” Raising her hand to strike me, I caught it mid slap. Lowering it to her side, my grip on her wrist refused to let her go.
“Whatever. My husband is hotter than yours and the mayor of the town. I wouldn’t touch him with a ten foot pole.” She returned haughtily, my fingers letting her go. “We don’t want you Gothic freaks in this perfect little slice of Heaven.” Cocking my brow at her words, it was obvious she liked my husband. A slightly overweight bald man in a pair of khakis and a blue button up shirt stepped out to search for his wife, his chocolate brown eyes falling on us. The name Richard stood out to me, a defiant glow coming over my face.
“He’s hot if slightly overweight and bald with a side of khaki’s is in fashion.” I taunted cruelly, watching her face grow red as the fire hydrant outside. Stomping off, she slammed the door behind her. Dusting off my dress, he pulled me in for a warm embrace. The foot difference made me feel pleasantly small, the feeling of his muscles against my face causing a tender blush to rise to my cheeks. This was an emotion that I haven’t felt in a while, the desire to give in to my nightly urges raged. Pushing him away, I folded my arms across my chest. Hurt dimmed his eyes, his hands running through his hair.
“We don’t have to do any of that until you are ready. We do have to get ready to go to the grocery. I just took my sunblock pill.” He explained happily, turning to walk back into his room. Hugging him from behind, my outcome was to alleviate his hurt. Freezing in his tracks, he spun on his heels. Hiding his wet eyes underneath his hair, he barely responded as I wiped away his tears. Pushing me away, a glass shattered on the worn wooden floor the moment I hit it. Shivering on the floor, I had tried too hard. Rushing into his room, I chased after him.
Fighting the tears, his years in prison had done a number on him. Sliding into the room in the nick of time, he shoved an onyx lace baby doll dress into my arms with a pair of chunky heeled boots. Stomping into the bathroom, he had his outfit hanging off of his arm. Changing quickly, he needed something to cheer him up. Crashing into the kitchen, the bottom of my dress fluttered with each step. Noting the dark roast coffee beans, coffee was the only thing vampires could taste beside blood. Humming to myself, I began the process of making him a latte. Smoothing out my bell sleeves, it was time to add the milk. Pouring the foaming milk into his coffee, he wandered in with a grumpy look on his face. My breath hitched at his black and white striped button up shirt over a pair of black shorts, his worn converses bringing him down to what age we looked like. A silver cross dangled from his left ear, his eyes falling on the apology coffee.
“I am sorry. It has been a long time since someone touched me. It is a tale I will tell you another time. Did you make that for me?” He queried with a tired smile, taking the clear cup in his trembling hands. “Did they teach you how to make this in jail?” Nodding silently, he took a sip. His eyes widened at how tasty it was, the cup was empty in a couple of minutes.
“Are we watching the people at the grocery store?” I questioned shakily, afraid to speak. “Won’t we stand out?” Shaking his head, he ruffled the top of my head. Kissing the top of my head, he offered me his elbow. Hooking mine around his, he guided me out to the car. Helping me in, we were soon heading to the local grocery store. The worn sign flickered against a faded tan facade, the housewives streamed in and out. An irritated Susan rushed past his car.
“We do but I have lived here for months, so they are used to it. If you wore pink it would be more alarming.” He whispered gruffly into my ears, those damn urges coming up again. “Trust me. We are the town freaks anyway with being “albinos”. The air quotes added a sense of humor to the moment, his soft chuckle telling me that he was fine. Helping me out, the wives all waved at him. Jealousy flashed in my eyes, his fingers intertwined with mine. While he received a bunch of smiles, I received death glare after death glare. Bright lights blinded me, the constant conversations caused my ears to pin back. The serial killer could be among these people, the very thought exhilarating.
“This can be a bit much for your first day out of jail. I would have left you at home but our bond won’t allow it.” He assured me sweetly, placing my hands on the cart. Holding me from behind, he rested his chin on my head. Talking for a minute to the butcher, a special symbol on his neck informed me that he was an ally. Susan rolled up next to me, one of her lackeys boxing me in. Leaning on the end of my cart, she cast insult after insult at me. Ignoring her words, a familiar face stole my attention. His wrinkles matched the father’s from back in the medieval times, a pair of sage eyes meeting mine. He smelled human, a Celtic symbol glowed on his neck. Susan waved her hands in front of me, a strained huh escaping my lips. His black priest’s uniform sickened me, clammy sweat soaking my skin.
“Did you hear me!” Susan demanded childishly, holding out an invitation. “This is something we call a book club.” Seconds from crumbling it up, Stanton snatched it from her fingers. Pecking me on the lips, she rolled her eyes in a huff. Father Rowell had disappeared into the crowd, my husband carrying on the conversation for me.
“I have to go to the bathroom!” I blurted out awkwardly, leaping over the carts. Crashing through the people, I skidded to a stop in front of Rowell. Reaching his hand out to me, a bolt of lightning zapped him the moment our skin touched. Clearing his throat, he pointed to the automatic doors.
“Shall we go outside?” He suggested with a sly grin, my ankle failing me at the wrong time. Crashing onto my ass, he snapped his finger. A rotting church towered over us, so many questions rested on the tip of my tongue. One pew remained, the wood groaning as we sat down on it. Why did this feel warmer than before?
“Are you the serial killer, you old man?” I interrogated intensely, his head shaking. Sliding me a Celtic spell book with the proper page open, the spell he was using only required the sacrifice of a lamb. Leaning back, he touched the glowing symbol on his neck. I guess it all added up.
“It’s not me. This damn thing prevents me from killing anyone. I turned it around, I swear. “ He attempted to assure me, my look of disbelief not pleasing him. “I am sorry for using you. You seemed so lost and I was lost by the propaganda they were spreading. The church today is much more honest. I can be a pair of ears for you. Will that help you out?” The church bell rang, the wood quaking underneath my boots, his eyes allowing me to peer into his soul. The white aura was enough to convince me, my hand touching his.
“Besides the killing, you did everything right.” I admitted sheepishly, allowing him to smile subtly. “You found me after one of my bloody massacres and still hid me from the church.” Snow drifted aimlessly, his palm catching a couple of snowflakes. Watching them melt in his palms, he turned to me.
“Do you remember when I found you? Ruby painted the snow but you looked at me with the biggest plea for help. You were but a ten year old child with fangs in my eyes.” He commented in a fatherly tone, both us leaning back to watch the snow fall. Resting our hands on our flat stomachs, he let out a soft chuckle
“I am surprised you helped me after finding out I was the daughter of the first vampire.” I laughed gently, his hand reaching for mine. “I got married yesterday. I am sorry that I went to prison. I must have disappointed you with that tidbit.” Taking my hand, he examined the ring. Snapping his fingers, we were back at the grocery store. Dropping a card into my palm, he shoved his hands into his pocket.
“I came to seek you out. The killer is among your little area I call Hell. Good luck with that marriage.” He called out as he walked to a waiting car, Stanton coming out with a bag of groceries. Peeking into the bag, it was two bags of coffee. Providing the perfect distraction, the contacts amusing me.
“It really looks like we eat.” I joked tenderly, nudging his shoulder. “Can we go home now?” Winking in my direction, his arm curled around my waist. Flipping me the invitation, his next words pissed me off.
“You are going to that book club tomorrow. Play nice and try not to stand out too much. The trick to winning Susie over is through the love of reading. As I recall, you had a cell full of the latest books.” He ordered sharply, rubbing his chin. “I know you read them all. Can you handle that tomorrow?” Whispering something in his ears, a devilish grin spread cheek to cheek.