Salt and pepper hair styles (photos or pictures) men

Men

2008.08.01 21:33 Men

Welcome to men. This is a platform to discuss and celebrate all things men. ("Men" includes all who identify and present as such, regardless of sex assigned at birth)
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2010.08.30 08:08 taylornator7 AskMen

We don’t read the rules, but we’ll post anyway
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2014.03.14 06:31 billiegoad You got this.

/divorce_men addresses the unique challenges facing men during divorce - from custody to assets, finances, attorneys and social issues. This sub is not pro-divorce, anti-women, anti-marriage, or anti-family. This sub is not a substitute for legal representation or psychological treatment.
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2021.07.16 22:06 dourdan Charmanderchar1692 ch3

previous: https://www.reddit.com/BarryPeppecomments/ogj4hv/charmanderchar1692_barry_pepper_charlotte_dobre/
“Henry?” I slept the sleep of a thousand Disney princesses. Suddenly, my mind awoke in the darkness; cold, wet and alone. Why was I wet? I looked down. trying to catch a glimpse of my actual body, but all I could see was black. I wasn’t invisible since I could see the shape of my hand movement within the space. Was I covered in paint? No, idiot, just no.
“You’re not an idiot, Charlotte.”
“Henry, are you there?” I could hear the sound of my own voice, but it was not coming from my physical form. it was like an echo, or a playback.
Looking straight ahead, I could see a figure begin to materialize. it started as a shadow; a shimmery liquid sculpting itself in the darkness. Little by little it began to pull in pixels of light, until it resembled a neon green wire frame, loosely in the form of a human male.
The figure looked around, as if lost or confused. His long hair flowing behind him in the form of a river of fading light.
“Henry?” I said again, hearing my voice echo from the opposite side of the room. It was possible he couldn’t see me.
The figure continued to pull in neon green pixels, adding details to his appearance. Soon, he turned to face me. “Charlotte?” Henry said as he looked at me with a creepy, partially rendered expression. Even with unfinished form, there was something distinctly human in his eyes. He reached out his hand, searching the area in front of him.
Reaching forward I could feel the weight of my hand. I was real; this moment was real. “Henry, am I asleep?” My hand passed through his. The energy felt like comfort, hope, and love.
“Unfortunately, your body is asleep in h-HIS bed, by h-Is side.” There was a tone of sadness in his voice. I read his expression as pity but not necessarily fear. “I’m hopeful that Vice Paul is not actively monitoring the network, but since this is all of his own creation and design,” he paused with a sigh. “I-will,” Henry’s voice froze as the image flickered, “We will err on the side of caution.” the man continued to render, his face becoming more detailed, until I could make out his features; kind fatherly eyes, a strong nose, and lips that spoke of wisdom and truth. “Still, it is of utmost importance that I show you what I’ve discovered.”
“What did you find?” I asked. My focus was on his hands, part of me hoped that (with enough mental energy) I could pull him into my reality, save him from this darkness. This was a dungeon far worse then where Alicia was, at least that place had a line to the outside world.
Henry’s voice became gradually clearer. “I have reason to believe our captor is attempting to sell his services to the highest bidder.”
“Highest bidder? Are we talking politicians, celebrities, the mafia?”
Henry nodded. He blinked his eyes, and with each motion a photo appeared in my line of vision, flicking like a slideshow. All the images seemed to be of clients from the main studio floor. First was an older Hispanic man. He looked regal with his salt-and-pepper facial hair. He sat on a reclining chair, resting his muscular arm on a side table. Vice Paul proceeded to work on the man’s bicep, using what looked like a tattoo gun. And then it sparked. This was no ordinary tattoo.
Henry blinked again, moving to a new image. The view of the room was switched to a different camera, allowing me a look over Vice’s shoulder. From what I could see, Vice was wielding a bionic component into the man’s arm (or perhaps making a repair to an existing piece.)
“Who is that?” I asked, knowing the client had to be someone of importance, someone in a position of power.
Henry paused, adjusting the camera feed. I watched as he moved his hand over the portion of the image with the man’s face, zooming in as much as possible, to bring out recognizable features. “From what I could access via internet photo recognition, he is a high-ranking official from Colombia, possibly thought to be connected to the cartel.”
Oh, that is bad. “Does the deadly powerful drug dealer have a name?”
“From what I could find via the surface web, his name does not remain consistent across all platforms.”
“What about the dark web?”
“If I could access the dark web, I assure you, we would be in a much better position. My advice to you, as it stands, is if you were to encounter this individual: play ignorant. If he is a potential ally, he will likely reveal what name he prefers.” Henry blinked his eyes, waving his hand to move on to the next series of images.
I instantly recognized the tall Asian woman with waist length hair. She was a famous K-pop star known for her onstage hair transformations. I was about to see why. After greeting Vice Paul with a hug, she laid on a massage table, exposing the back of her neck. To the average body mod enthusiast, it would appear like she had a series of surface piercings. However, the pictures told a different story; apparently it was a circuit board that connected to a mechanism controlling her hair. She could change the color, texture and even material at will; fire, ice, even metal.
“Wow, just wow.”
“Wow?” Henry asked with a look of concern. Apparently, I had come off as a little too pleased in my statement
“You have to admit, that body mod looks amazing.” I had seen her music videos; there was no doubt the girl was a star and her superhero-like hair played a major role in making that happen.
Henry scoffed, noticeably rolling his eyes at my comment. “According to the internet she goes by the name Flower. no one knows her real identity. Some think she’s a spy from the DPRK.”
“A North Korean spy?” Now I was the one acting incredulous. She was just a model, there was no way she could be working for North Korea.
“May I continue?”
“Yes,” I said, bowing my head apologetically. “I’m sorry.”
Henry blinked again. The image switched to a blonde girl with colorful highlights, sitting in a reclined dentist chair. She was receiving some kind of oral surgery. “This is American born Instagram influencer, Rylie Blue.”
“Never heard of her.”
Henry smirked. “Why do I not believe you?”
“Fine, I know she’s an aspiring singer with a billion followers on all the major platforms.”
“But you’re not a fan?”
“I’m…” I pursed my lips. Was I really embarrassed about liking the music of a teen rapper who bragged about how she was ‘not like other girls?’ “I respect her as an artist and I am more then a little jealous of her success.”
The next pic was of Ms. Blue taking a selfie with her new mouth piercings. There were gems in her teeth that looked kind of like braces made of computer parts. Her bright red lips, plump with fillers, were adorned with five additional piercings; a medusa, angel bites and a labret.
As Henry switched to future images, it was clear that instead of typical jewels, her lips were connected to led lights. What did it all mean? “Is Vice Paul trying to start an army of bio mech soldiers?”
“No, I don’t believe that to be the case.” Henry replied with a sense of uncertainty. “The truth is, Vice’s true intentions illude me. He doesn’t seem to be chasing wealth or power.”
“Are you sure? I mean this secret lair can’t be cheap.”
“This place is a storage facility, nothing more. His electricity and water are poached from local sources, as are his crafting materials. So, beyond feeding himself, he had no need for money.”
“What does he want? He has to hold something of value.” I already knew the answer; his data, his creations, the reason why he was able to track me down.
“As long as he had his data, Vice could easily abandon his work here, without a second thought. In my opinion, Vice seems to be craving results.” Henry crossed his arms, looking off in the distance. “I believe he’s looking for a way to secure his own immortality.”
“What?”
Henry shook his head, turning away, as if to acknowledge how crazy his theory sounded. “That might just be the narrative he wants me to see.”
I felt my body stand up, placing weight on my invisible legs. I placed a hand on his shoulder, touching the tingly energy of his virtual skin. “I think you’re pretty powerful.”
Henry turned to me “For a brain in a box?” For a brief moment I saw him smile.
I wanted to reach out, to touch, to smell, to taste. What would it feel like to kiss him?
*bing**bing*
*bing*
*bing*
I awoke (for real this time) to the sound of my phone messages pinging one after another. I rubbed my sleepy eyes, jolting backward in pain. ‘Oh yeah, I forgot about the foreign object in my eye socket.’ I forced myself to take a deep breath, fighting past the pain. I needed to remain calm, happy, loyal. “Who is FTA1692?” I asked sweetly, trying to maintain a positive demeanor (since I sure as hell wasn’t the one that changed my account name.)
Vice was laughing from the open bathroom door. “Fire type axolotl,” he said as he brushed his teeth. “I even drew you a new logo.” Sure enough my avatar had been changed from a red lizard, to a steampunk pink axolotl with a glowing blue eye. “Do you like it? Kind of reminds me of you.”
I look like an axolotl? “Great, just great.”
Since I had not uploaded in over a week, there were plenty of people worried about my whereabouts and wellbeing; fans, friends and (most likely) my supervisor who just now realized I missed a six-hour shift. The police were called in for a wellness check, but according to ‘evidence presented at the scene’ I was simply on an extended vacation. (I imagined my stupid bitch of a supervisor agreed that this was just the kind of immature stunt I would pull.)
Then there was my new channel intro. The thumbnail made me look like a wannabe Emilie Autumn; a creepy goth steam-punk princess. With trembling hands, I clicked play. The clip was a ten second theme song (of sorts) that would attach to the front of all my videos. it was a dark, punk-style photoshoot showcasing my new eye. The instrumental music was mesmerizing, hypnotic even. And the images were simply magical.
I could recall when the pics were taken. After retrieving me from Alicia’s cell, Vice had escorted me to the bedroom I was now in. I was allowed to get cleaned up, using his personal shower. He even offered me a change of clothes.
The man had a noticeably large collection of women’s clothing. Some were clearly sex attire, but others were actually kind of cute. After offering me a drink of water (that tasted oddly bitter), he guided me to a set of lacy black lingerie. I had every intention of wearing something over Vice’s chosen outfit; a robe or maybe a sweatshirt but he kept tempting me with drinks; tonics from colorful bottles, with labels from all over the world.
When I was good and relaxed, he started snapping photo after photo, all from the comfort of our bed. In my inebriated state, I could still remember that he claimed he was using them for his online portfolio. This was odd since his shop didn’t really have a gallery (otherwise Henry’s pics of Vice’s formecurrent clients would have looked a lot more professional, as opposed to screencaps from a security system.)
I recalled that particular moment, because, in my drunk, sleepy, flirty voice I asked, “Portfolio? Does that mean you’re selling these online?”
He flashed a smile, his perfect teeth shimmering in the light. “Why would you say that?”
“Because you just want to break my heart?” I got on all fours, licking my lips like a loyal dog. “Vince, baby, I thought you made my blue eye just for me?” Yes, I called him Vince. The memory made me sicker than any hangover.
Perhaps that was the truth, maybe Vice meant only to document his work, but after my sexy display of Stockholm syndrome he was inspired to create something that would showcase my new look to the world. This video was a gift, just for me. And it was clear he worked hard on it. He zoomed in on certain shots, to make aesthetically pleasing compositions. On my face, He erased all signs of bruising or bleeding, even giving me a full face of makeup. I thought I looked like something out of a magazine. (Vice was just that talented.)
Not everyone seemed to agree. I kept scrolling through comments, most people just thought I was trying to be edgy, unique or perhaps just thirsty for attention. Most were trolls, unworthy of my attention, but one of them drew me in.
‘Who took those, your new man?’
The tone seemed to imply that I took the pictures myself using camera tricks (like the people who take photos using their feet claiming that their unseen partner took the pics.) I did not take kindly to being called a liar.
‘Yeah, totally.’ My mind went blank as my fingers typed out a response. ‘I got a new man. He’s the love of my life, the angel of my world.’
I turned the phone snapping a picture of Vice. Checking out my handywork, I’d caught a view of his back. Vice had a massive black and gray tattoo of Cerberus, the three-headed guardian of the underworld. The image started on his shoulders, with the creature emerging from a shady background, running forward on to his back, with its front paws ending somewhere just above his ass. Personally, I would have never chosen that particular mythical character for a back piece, but I had to admit it was more original than a roaring lion or a burning phoenix.
The more I looked at the image, the more I fell in love. He looked mysterious, sexy, and very Instagram worthy. It was just the kind of image that could go viral. With a devilish grin, I saved a copy to my cloud, added the attachment to my post. And then I hit reply.
“Did you just take my picture?” Vice smirked, glancing at me with a raised eyebrow. He seemed happy, maybe even proud, but there was no way to know for certain.
“Well, you do have an Instagram account,” I said, smirking back like this was all a big joke. “Your face isn’t exactly hard to find.” I was prepared to delete the pic from my phone.
Vice pulled on his button-down polo shirt before taking a seat on the bed. “Did I say that I give a shit?” Chest exposed, he cuddled by my side. I could feel his body; muscles, skin, sweat. He was making a grab for my phone.
“Here,” I said, handing it over without a fight. “All you had to do was ask.”
Vice stretched his back, resting one arm around my shoulder. “So, I’m your man?”
I shrugged, giggling awkwardly. “I thought BAE was kind of outdated.”
“Well, how did you know I have an Instagram?” he asked with a coy smile. Clearly, he was screwing with me.
“That’s you, right there?” I asked, pointing at an avatar trying to add me as a friend. “If not, you might have a stalker or a clone. Please don’t tell me you have a clone.”
“A clone?”
“Or a brother?” In all honesty, he did seem like the kind of person who would have a clone. (Most likely for use in crime or for spare parts.)
The black and white image was of a blond-haired older man tilting his head like a model, showing off his vast array of facial piercings.
I looked at Vice’s face, to see what piercings he had currently. Strangely, the answer was none; no eyebrow bar, no surface piercings, not even the sizable labret below his lip. That would have left a scar. Unless of course it was all photoshop. “Is it you? I mean I just assumed it was.”
“Yes,” Vice said, finally flashing a sweet smile. He almost looked human. “It’s just a pretty old one.”
“You know what? Why don’t we take a new one?” I asked with the most energy I could muster. With a flirty swipe I took back my phone, all while resting my head on his shoulder. I knew I needed to hold him close. Henry had gotten such good info, I needed to try to hunt for anything that would typically not be caught by security cameras.
Did Vice have any scars on his body? I’m only looking for scars, focused on scars. Everything else is just an act. He was thin. I could feel the side of his ribcage through his shirt. But with every breath, I could feel that he was undeniably strong.
I stroked his cheek, tracing along his jaw, down his neck, all under the guide of getting a good selfie. I kept moving; snuggling, adjusting, until I hit plastic. The rockstar mad scientist had a PICC line.
I must have dwelled for a second to long. To break the awkward silence, Vice pulled in excuse out of his ass, “I just got tired of shooting up in my arm.”
So, you’d rather shoot up in your Carotid Artery? “All about efficiency, huh? I might get one myself someday.”
“Like hell you will.” Vice grinned like a demented mannequin, speaking directly into the camera.
Um, ok. “Smile!” I took a look at the image, before sending it off to Instagram, making sure to tag in Vice’s ancient account.
“That came out nice,” he said, stretching his back as he relaxed on the pillow. “I might just have to change my avatar.”
“Yeah, well,” I was blushing, giggling like a schoolgirl. “You have a really beautiful smile.”
“You too.” Vice sat up and kissed the top of my forehead. “Anyway, I have to get to work, at the studio.”
I sat up, pulling my knees to my chest. “What kind of work?”
Vice shrugged, making sure to face away from me while speaking. “Nothing special, I just got a client coming in.”
“Can I meet them?” My voice quivered. That request sounded much too formal. Now I just had to hope Vice’s answer was a positive one (as opposed to cutting out my other eye and throwing me back in a cell for my insubordination.)
Vice replied almost immediately. “Fine. Only if you can get yourself ready in ten minutes.”
I sprang up. “I’ll only need six.”
Vice turned and nodded as he put on his tie, before heading out the door. “Yeah, well, I’ll need the full ten to set up my work station.” The door slammed shut, locking from the outside.
“Ok, cool. I guess I’ll get dressed, then.” I walked to the closet, mentally sorting my options, since I was certain that not every piece of clothing would be appropriate for a ‘client’ meeting. (Or even my size.) I needed something ‘one-size-fits-all’ while also looking like a worthy piece of arm candy for a new age, rockstar mad scientist/evil genius. I settled on a red cocktail length dress with full sleeves. The back was very, VERY open, with a single ribbon attached to the butt. I assumed this was to allow someone to lace themselves in to the dress as little or as much as they liked.
I was in the process of tying it when the door creaked open. Vice slithered in, quiet as a snake, as he put his arms around my waist. “That’s not the correct way to wear that.”
“I’m not flashing my chest,” I replied, assuming he meant I had it on backwards.
“That’s not what I meant.” Vice proceeded to wrap the ribbon around my body, tying me in to a handmade corset. “This dress is a piece of my own design.” He said as he pulled tighter. “A proper display case for a woman of grace and beauty.”
“Display case?”
Vice stroked his hand down my exposed back. “I’ll need to remove your ribs, two, maybe three on each side for a nice slender frame. And then I’ll perform a full hysterectomy. I can’t wait to taste of your ovaries, your womb.” He spoke with such passion I was almost getting turned on. “Maybe I’ll leave you cut open for a while and just dine on your blood.”
“You don’t want kids with me?” I asked in a nervous giggle. What the fuck do you say to something like that?
“I have so many plans for you.”
Frozen in fear I walked with him out the door, to an elevator that required a key to operate. We rode in silence to the main floor emerging from the ground to lively applause.
The long-haired Korean woman stood up, her hair shifting from lavender to metallic blonde as she spoke, “Such beautiful work.” She cupped her hands over her mouth like a little doll. And then she took a bow, kissing Vice’s hand. “So brilliant!”
Vice patted her head like a puppy. “You are too kind, my love.”
The woman then took my hand bowing to me, like I was royalty. “Beautiful girl, you are yet another masterpiece.”
Looking over her shoulder, I could see she was surrounded by an entourage of fashionably dressed people with their eyes on their phones. They were monitoring her without watching her.
She bowed her head again before shaking my hand like a semi-normal person. “I’m called Flower, what does he call you?”
There was something odd about her accent. Something about it didn’t seem fully Korean. “Hello, my name is Charlotte, but Vice calls me Charli.”
“Then I shall call you Charli as well.” She put her arms around me, going in for a hug. This caused Vice to move to the side, stepping away to speak to the other people.
I could hear cameras clicking, as I was blinded by one flash after another, as Vice disappeared into another room, with a handful of people by his side. Where was he going?
If I had to guess, he was meeting with Flower’s handlers, while the rest of the entourage were charged with keeping us from escaping. I felt Flower put her arms around me, turning her face to create perfect internet trendy poses. She kissed my cheek, leaning in close. Her lips hovered over my ear, as if she was trying to determine if she could trust me.
“Charlotte?” Her voice was a gravely whisper. “Is he looking away?”
“Yeah, I think so.” My heart was racing. I could hear her real accent; she was an American. This was another person taken against her will to become a living art piece.
She kissed my cheek, pretending to flirt, but I could already feel the tears welling up in her eyes. “My name is Hellen Zhao, I’m from Little Rock, Arkansas.”
The camera flashes started to decrease. The guards knew we were talking.
Flower’s hair became longer, shielding our faces, as she pressed her cheek to mine. “I haven’t seen my family in over ten years.”
Before I could reply, Flower was forcibly pulled away by a woman in a suit speaking angry, fluent Korean.
Flower leaned in and kissed my hand. She made sure to give the cameras a final, flirtatious smile, before turning back one last time. “Please help me,” the clearly American girl said in a soft breath as she was forced through the studio door for her appointment with Vice.
I was left alone with the remaining guards. They still had their faces glued to their phones, with Bluetooth earpieces in their ears, but I would have been foolish to attempt an escape. Instead, I took the opportunity to look around the unique space. The main color of the walls was a deep blood red, highlighted with gold and black accents in the form of filigree. This theme was continued with the various art pieces. There were paintings and sculptures made from random trash; paper, plastic, metal. The works portrayed the human form in various stages, from a fetus made of computer parts, to a naked female torso made of plastic straws, all spray painted with a high gloss finish. Near the door to the studio (where Flower had been forced through) was a chair made from a large truck tire.
I could hear the sound of power tools; a long-drawn-out whirl, screeching, crunching. This was followed by very human screams. I glanced up at the guards. They were all looking at me from behind tinted sunglasses.
I couldn’t help but think about a quote that I only knew from the 1994 Street fighter movie, ‘When good men do nothing that is evil enough.’
Realistically, I needed to stay alive. Not just for my own greedy, cowardly ass. Alicia was still trapped (along with God knows who else.) And I had no idea what was behind that door.
The world went silent and I could hear the sound of doors opening and closing. And then the rest of the people exited through the studio leaving me completely alone. I waited a few seconds before standing up. For my effort, I caught the briefest look of the outside world; a loading dock overlooking a beach, before Vice appeared in my view.
“I see you wish to help me clean up,” he said as he tossed me a roll of trash bags. “If you do a good job, I might just treat you to some real food.”
I forced a nod at the sight of the bloody exam chair. “Sure, sounds great…”
submitted by dourdan to nosleep [link] [comments]


2021.07.16 21:10 dourdan Charmanderchar1692 (Barry Pepper, Charlotte Dobre inspired series)- ch3

Charmanderchar1692 (Barry Pepper, Charlotte Dobre inspired series)- ch3

Charmanderchar1692 (Barry Pepper, Charlotte Dobre inspired series)- ch3

previous: https://www.reddit.com/BarryPeppecomments/ogj4hv/charmanderchar1692_barry_pepper_charlotte_dobre/
“Henry?” I slept the sleep of a thousand Disney princesses. Suddenly, my mind awoke in the darkness; cold, wet and alone. Why was I wet? I looked down. trying to catch a glimpse of my actual body, but all I could see was black. I wasn’t invisible since I could see the shape of my hand movement within the space. Was I covered in paint? No, idiot, just no.
“You’re not an idiot, Charlotte.”
“Henry, are you there?” I could hear the sound of my own voice, but it was not coming from my physical form. it was like an echo, or a playback.
Looking straight ahead, I could see a figure begin to materialize. it started as a shadow; a shimmery liquid sculpting itself in the darkness. Little by little it began to pull in pixels of light, until it resembled a neon green wire frame, loosely in the form of a human male.
The figure looked around, as if lost or confused. His long hair flowing behind him in the form of a river of fading light.
“Henry?” I said again, hearing my voice echo from the opposite side of the room. It was possible he couldn’t see me.
The figure continued to pull in neon green pixels, adding details to his appearance. Soon, he turned to face me. “Charlotte?” Henry said as he looked at me with a creepy, partially rendered expression. Even with unfinished form, there was something distinctly human in his eyes. He reached out his hand, searching the area in front of him.
Reaching forward I could feel the weight of my hand. I was real; this moment was real. “Henry, am I asleep?” My hand passed through his. The energy felt like comfort, hope, and love.
“Unfortunately, your body is asleep in h-HIS bed, by h-Is side.” There was a tone of sadness in his voice. I read his expression as pity but not necessarily fear. “I’m hopeful that Vice Paul is not actively monitoring the network, but since this is all of his own creation and design,” he paused with a sigh. “I-will,” Henry’s voice froze as the image flickered, “We will err on the side of caution.” the man continued to render, his face becoming more detailed, until I could make out his features; kind fatherly eyes, a strong nose, and lips that spoke of wisdom and truth. “Still, it is of utmost importance that I show you what I’ve discovered.”
“What did you find?” I asked. My focus was on his hands, part of me hoped that (with enough mental energy) I could pull him into my reality, save him from this darkness. This was a dungeon far worse then where Alicia was, at least that place had a line to the outside world.
Henry’s voice became gradually clearer. “I have reason to believe our captor is attempting to sell his services to the highest bidder.”
“Highest bidder? Are we talking politicians, celebrities, the mafia?”
Henry nodded. He blinked his eyes, and with each motion a photo appeared in my line of vision, flicking like a slideshow. All the images seemed to be of clients from the main studio floor. First was an older Hispanic man. He looked regal with his salt-and-pepper facial hair. He sat on a reclining chair, resting his muscular arm on a side table. Vice Paul proceeded to work on the man’s bicep, using what looked like a tattoo gun. And then it sparked. This was no ordinary tattoo.
Henry blinked again, moving to a new image. The view of the room was switched to a different camera, allowing me a look over Vice’s shoulder. From what I could see, Vice was wielding a bionic component into the man’s arm (or perhaps making a repair to an existing piece.)
“Who is that?” I asked, knowing the client had to be someone of importance, someone in a position of power.
Henry paused, adjusting the camera feed. I watched as he moved his hand over the portion of the image with the man’s face, zooming in as much as possible, to bring out recognizable features. “From what I could access via internet photo recognition, he is a high-ranking official from Colombia, possibly thought to be connected to the cartel.”
Oh, that is bad. “Does the deadly powerful drug dealer have a name?”
“From what I could find via the surface web, his name does not remain consistent across all platforms.”
“What about the dark web?”
“If I could access the dark web, I assure you, we would be in a much better position. My advice to you, as it stands, is if you were to encounter this individual: play ignorant. If he is a potential ally, he will likely reveal what name he prefers.” Henry blinked his eyes, waving his hand to move on to the next series of images.
I instantly recognized the tall Asian woman with waist length hair. She was a famous K-pop star known for her onstage hair transformations. I was about to see why. After greeting Vice Paul with a hug, she laid on a massage table, exposing the back of her neck. To the average body mod enthusiast, it would appear like she had a series of surface piercings. However, the pictures told a different story; apparently it was a circuit board that connected to a mechanism controlling her hair. She could change the color, texture and even material at will; fire, ice, even metal.
“Wow, just wow.”
“Wow?” Henry asked with a look of concern. Apparently, I had come off as a little too pleased in my statement
“You have to admit, that body mod looks amazing.” I had seen her music videos; there was no doubt the girl was a star and her superhero-like hair played a major role in making that happen.
Henry scoffed, noticeably rolling his eyes at my comment. “According to the internet she goes by the name Flower. no one knows her real identity. Some think she’s a spy from the DPRK.”
“A North Korean spy?” Now I was the one acting incredulous. She was just a model, there was no way she could be working for North Korea.
“May I continue?”
“Yes,” I said, bowing my head apologetically. “I’m sorry.”
Henry blinked again. The image switched to a blonde girl with colorful highlights, sitting in a reclined dentist chair. She was receiving some kind of oral surgery. “This is American born Instagram influencer, Rylie Blue.”
“Never heard of her.”
Henry smirked. “Why do I not believe you?”
“Fine, I know she’s an aspiring singer with a billion followers on all the major platforms.”
“But you’re not a fan?”
“I’m…” I pursed my lips. Was I really embarrassed about liking the music of a teen rapper who bragged about how she was ‘not like other girls?’ “I respect her as an artist and I am more then a little jealous of her success.”
The next pic was of Ms. Blue taking a selfie with her new mouth piercings. There were gems in her teeth that looked kind of like braces made of computer parts. Her bright red lips, plump with fillers, were adorned with five additional piercings; a medusa, angel bites and a labret.
As Henry switched to future images, it was clear that instead of typical jewels, her lips were connected to led lights. What did it all mean? “Is Vice Paul trying to start an army of bio mech soldiers?”
“No, I don’t believe that to be the case.” Henry replied with a sense of uncertainty. “The truth is, Vice’s true intentions illude me. He doesn’t seem to be chasing wealth or power.”
“Are you sure? I mean this secret lair can’t be cheap.”
“This place is a storage facility, nothing more. His electricity and water are poached from local sources, as are his crafting materials. So, beyond feeding himself, he had no need for money.”
“What does he want? He has to hold something of value.” I already knew the answer; his data, his creations, the reason why he was able to track me down.
“As long as he had his data, Vice could easily abandon his work here, without a second thought. In my opinion, Vice seems to be craving results.” Henry crossed his arms, looking off in the distance. “I believe he’s looking for a way to secure his own immortality.”
“What?”
Henry shook his head, turning away, as if to acknowledge how crazy his theory sounded. “That might just be the narrative he wants me to see.”
I felt my body stand up, placing weight on my invisible legs. I placed a hand on his shoulder, touching the tingly energy of his virtual skin. “I think you’re pretty powerful.”
Henry turned to me “For a brain in a box?” For a brief moment I saw him smile.
I wanted to reach out, to touch, to smell, to taste. What would it feel like to kiss him?
*bing**bing*
*bing*
*bing*
I awoke (for real this time) to the sound of my phone messages pinging one after another. I rubbed my sleepy eyes, jolting backward in pain. ‘Oh yeah, I forgot about the foreign object in my eye socket.’ I forced myself to take a deep breath, fighting past the pain. I needed to remain calm, happy, loyal. “Who is FTA1692?” I asked sweetly, trying to maintain a positive demeanor (since I sure as hell wasn’t the one that changed my account name.)
Vice was laughing from the open bathroom door. “Fire type axolotl,” he said as he brushed his teeth. “I even drew you a new logo.” Sure enough my avatar had been changed from a red lizard, to a steampunk pink axolotl with a glowing blue eye. “Do you like it? Kind of reminds me of you.”
I look like an axolotl? “Great, just great.”
Since I had not uploaded in over a week, there were plenty of people worried about my whereabouts and wellbeing; fans, friends and (most likely) my supervisor who just now realized I missed a six-hour shift. The police were called in for a wellness check, but according to ‘evidence presented at the scene’ I was simply on an extended vacation. (I imagined my stupid bitch of a supervisor agreed that this was just the kind of immature stunt I would pull.)
Then there was my new channel intro. The thumbnail made me look like a wannabe Emilie Autumn; a creepy goth steam-punk princess. With trembling hands, I clicked play. The clip was a ten second theme song (of sorts) that would attach to the front of all my videos. it was a dark, punk-style photoshoot showcasing my new eye. The instrumental music was mesmerizing, hypnotic even. And the images were simply magical.
I could recall when the pics were taken. After retrieving me from Alicia’s cell, Vice had escorted me to the bedroom I was now in. I was allowed to get cleaned up, using his personal shower. He even offered me a change of clothes.
The man had a noticeably large collection of women’s clothing. Some were clearly sex attire, but others were actually kind of cute. After offering me a drink of water (that tasted oddly bitter), he guided me to a set of lacy black lingerie. I had every intention of wearing something over Vice’s chosen outfit; a robe or maybe a sweatshirt but he kept tempting me with drinks; tonics from colorful bottles, with labels from all over the world.
When I was good and relaxed, he started snapping photo after photo, all from the comfort of our bed. In my inebriated state, I could still remember that he claimed he was using them for his online portfolio. This was odd since his shop didn’t really have a gallery (otherwise Henry’s pics of Vice’s formecurrent clients would have looked a lot more professional, as opposed to screencaps from a security system.)
I recalled that particular moment, because, in my drunk, sleepy, flirty voice I asked, “Portfolio? Does that mean you’re selling these online?”
He flashed a smile, his perfect teeth shimmering in the light. “Why would you say that?”
“Because you just want to break my heart?” I got on all fours, licking my lips like a loyal dog. “Vince, baby, I thought you made my blue eye just for me?” Yes, I called him Vince. The memory made me sicker than any hangover.
Perhaps that was the truth, maybe Vice meant only to document his work, but after my sexy display of Stockholm syndrome he was inspired to create something that would showcase my new look to the world. This video was a gift, just for me. And it was clear he worked hard on it. He zoomed in on certain shots, to make aesthetically pleasing compositions. On my face, He erased all signs of bruising or bleeding, even giving me a full face of makeup. I thought I looked like something out of a magazine. (Vice was just that talented.)
Not everyone seemed to agree. I kept scrolling through comments, most people just thought I was trying to be edgy, unique or perhaps just thirsty for attention. Most were trolls, unworthy of my attention, but one of them drew me in.
‘Who took those, your new man?’
The tone seemed to imply that I took the pictures myself using camera tricks (like the people who take photos using their feet claiming that their unseen partner took the pics.) I did not take kindly to being called a liar.
‘Yeah, totally.’ My mind went blank as my fingers typed out a response. ‘I got a new man. He’s the love of my life, the angel of my world.’
I turned the phone snapping a picture of Vice. Checking out my handywork, I’d caught a view of his back. Vice had a massive black and gray tattoo of Cerberus, the three-headed guardian of the underworld. The image started on his shoulders, with the creature emerging from a shady background, running forward on to his back, with its front paws ending somewhere just above his ass. Personally, I would have never chosen that particular mythical character for a back piece, but I had to admit it was more original than a roaring lion or a burning phoenix.
The more I looked at the image, the more I fell in love. He looked mysterious, sexy, and very Instagram worthy. It was just the kind of image that could go viral. With a devilish grin, I saved a copy to my cloud, added the attachment to my post. And then I hit reply.
“Did you just take my picture?” Vice smirked, glancing at me with a raised eyebrow. He seemed happy, maybe even proud, but there was no way to know for certain.
“Well, you do have an Instagram account,” I said, smirking back like this was all a big joke. “Your face isn’t exactly hard to find.” I was prepared to delete the pic from my phone.
Vice pulled on his button-down polo shirt before taking a seat on the bed. “Did I say that I give a shit?” Chest exposed, he cuddled by my side. I could feel his body; muscles, skin, sweat. He was making a grab for my phone.
“Here,” I said, handing it over without a fight. “All you had to do was ask.”
Vice stretched his back, resting one arm around my shoulder. “So, I’m your man?”
I shrugged, giggling awkwardly. “I thought BAE was kind of outdated.”
“Well, how did you know I have an Instagram?” he asked with a coy smile. Clearly, he was screwing with me.
“That’s you, right there?” I asked, pointing at an avatar trying to add me as a friend. “If not, you might have a stalker or a clone. Please don’t tell me you have a clone.”
“A clone?”
“Or a brother?” In all honesty, he did seem like the kind of person who would have a clone. (Most likely for use in crime or for spare parts.)
The black and white image was of a blond-haired older man tilting his head like a model, showing off his vast array of facial piercings.
I looked at Vice’s face, to see what piercings he had currently. Strangely, the answer was none; no eyebrow bar, no surface piercings, not even the sizable labret below his lip. That would have left a scar. Unless of course it was all photoshop. “Is it you? I mean I just assumed it was.”
“Yes,” Vice said, finally flashing a sweet smile. He almost looked human. “It’s just a pretty old one.”
“You know what? Why don’t we take a new one?” I asked with the most energy I could muster. With a flirty swipe I took back my phone, all while resting my head on his shoulder. I knew I needed to hold him close. Henry had gotten such good info, I needed to try to hunt for anything that would typically not be caught by security cameras.
Did Vice have any scars on his body? I’m only looking for scars, focused on scars. Everything else is just an act. He was thin. I could feel the side of his ribcage through his shirt. But with every breath, I could feel that he was undeniably strong.
I stroked his cheek, tracing along his jaw, down his neck, all under the guide of getting a good selfie. I kept moving; snuggling, adjusting, until I hit plastic. The rockstar mad scientist had a PICC line.
I must have dwelled for a second to long. To break the awkward silence, Vice pulled in excuse out of his ass, “I just got tired of shooting up in my arm.”
So, you’d rather shoot up in your Carotid Artery? “All about efficiency, huh? I might get one myself someday.”
“Like hell you will.” Vice grinned like a demented mannequin, speaking directly into the camera.
Um, ok. “Smile!” I took a look at the image, before sending it off to Instagram, making sure to tag in Vice’s ancient account.
“That came out nice,” he said, stretching his back as he relaxed on the pillow. “I might just have to change my avatar.”
“Yeah, well,” I was blushing, giggling like a schoolgirl. “You have a really beautiful smile.”
“You too.” Vice sat up and kissed the top of my forehead. “Anyway, I have to get to work, at the studio.”
I sat up, pulling my knees to my chest. “What kind of work?”
Vice shrugged, making sure to face away from me while speaking. “Nothing special, I just got a client coming in.”
“Can I meet them?” My voice quivered. That request sounded much too formal. Now I just had to hope Vice’s answer was a positive one (as opposed to cutting out my other eye and throwing me back in a cell for my insubordination.)
Vice replied almost immediately. “Fine. Only if you can get yourself ready in ten minutes.”
I sprang up. “I’ll only need six.”
Vice turned and nodded as he put on his tie, before heading out the door. “Yeah, well, I’ll need the full ten to set up my work station.” The door slammed shut, locking from the outside.
“Ok, cool. I guess I’ll get dressed, then.” I walked to the closet, mentally sorting my options, since I was certain that not every piece of clothing would be appropriate for a ‘client’ meeting. (Or even my size.) I needed something ‘one-size-fits-all’ while also looking like a worthy piece of arm candy for a new age, rockstar mad scientist/evil genius. I settled on a red cocktail length dress with full sleeves. The back was very, VERY open, with a single ribbon attached to the butt. I assumed this was to allow someone to lace themselves in to the dress as little or as much as they liked.
I was in the process of tying it when the door creaked open. Vice slithered in, quiet as a snake, as he put his arms around my waist. “That’s not the correct way to wear that.”
“I’m not flashing my chest,” I replied, assuming he meant I had it on backwards.
“That’s not what I meant.” Vice proceeded to wrap the ribbon around my body, tying me in to a handmade corset. “This dress is a piece of my own design.” He said as he pulled tighter. “A proper display case for a woman of grace and beauty.”
“Display case?”
Vice stroked his hand down my exposed back. “I’ll need to remove your ribs, two, maybe three on each side for a nice slender frame. And then I’ll perform a full hysterectomy. I can’t wait to taste of your ovaries, your womb.” He spoke with such passion I was almost getting turned on. “Maybe I’ll leave you cut open for a while and just dine on your blood.”
“You don’t want kids with me?” I asked in a nervous giggle. What the fuck do you say to something like that?
“I have so many plans for you.”
Frozen in fear I walked with him out the door, to an elevator that required a key to operate. We rode in silence to the main floor emerging from the ground to lively applause.
The long-haired Korean woman stood up, her hair shifting from lavender to metallic blonde as she spoke, “Such beautiful work.” She cupped her hands over her mouth like a little doll. And then she took a bow, kissing Vice’s hand. “So brilliant!”
Vice patted her head like a puppy. “You are too kind, my love.”
The woman then took my hand bowing to me, like I was royalty. “Beautiful girl, you are yet another masterpiece.”
Looking over her shoulder, I could see she was surrounded by an entourage of fashionably dressed people with their eyes on their phones. They were monitoring her without watching her.
She bowed her head again before shaking my hand like a semi-normal person. “I’m called Flower, what does he call you?”
There was something odd about her accent. Something about it didn’t seem fully Korean. “Hello, my name is Charlotte, but Vice calls me Charli.”
“Then I shall call you Charli as well.” She put her arms around me, going in for a hug. This caused Vice to move to the side, stepping away to speak to the other people.
I could hear cameras clicking, as I was blinded by one flash after another, as Vice disappeared into another room, with a handful of people by his side. Where was he going?
If I had to guess, he was meeting with Flower’s handlers, while the rest of the entourage were charged with keeping us from escaping. I felt Flower put her arms around me, turning her face to create perfect internet trendy poses. She kissed my cheek, leaning in close. Her lips hovered over my ear, as if she was trying to determine if she could trust me.
“Charlotte?” Her voice was a gravely whisper. “Is he looking away?”
“Yeah, I think so.” My heart was racing. I could hear her real accent; she was an American. This was another person taken against her will to become a living art piece.
She kissed my cheek, pretending to flirt, but I could already feel the tears welling up in her eyes. “My name is Hellen Zhao, I’m from Little Rock, Arkansas.”
The camera flashes started to decrease. The guards knew we were talking.
Flower’s hair became longer, shielding our faces, as she pressed her cheek to mine. “I haven’t seen my family in over ten years.”
Before I could reply, Flower was forcibly pulled away by a woman in a suit speaking angry, fluent Korean.
Flower leaned in and kissed my hand. She made sure to give the cameras a final, flirtatious smile, before turning back one last time. “Please help me,” the clearly American girl said in a soft breath as she was forced through the studio door for her appointment with Vice.
I was left alone with the remaining guards. They still had their faces glued to their phones, with Bluetooth earpieces in their ears, but I would have been foolish to attempt an escape. Instead, I took the opportunity to look around the unique space. The main color of the walls was a deep blood red, highlighted with gold and black accents in the form of filigree. This theme was continued with the various art pieces. There were paintings and sculptures made from random trash; paper, plastic, metal. The works portrayed the human form in various stages, from a fetus made of computer parts, to a naked female torso made of plastic straws, all spray painted with a high gloss finish. Near the door to the studio (where Flower had been forced through) was a chair made from a large truck tire.
I could hear the sound of power tools; a long-drawn-out whirl, screeching, crunching. This was followed by very human screams. I glanced up at the guards. They were all looking at me from behind tinted sunglasses.
I couldn’t help but think about a quote that I only knew from the 1994 Street fighter movie, ‘When good men do nothing that is evil enough.’
Realistically, I needed to stay alive. Not just for my own greedy, cowardly ass. Alicia was still trapped (along with God knows who else.) And I had no idea what was behind that door.
The world went silent and I could hear the sound of doors opening and closing. And then the rest of the people exited through the studio leaving me completely alone. I waited a few seconds before standing up. For my effort, I caught the briefest look of the outside world; a loading dock overlooking a beach, before Vice appeared in my view.
“I see you wish to help me clean up,” he said as he tossed me a roll of trash bags. “If you do a good job, I might just treat you to some real food.”
I forced a nod at the sight of the bloody exam chair. “Sure, sounds great…”
next: https://www.reddit.com/BarryPeppecomments/oowkx3/charmanderchar1692_barry_pepper_charlotte_dobre/
submitted by dourdan to BarryPepper [link] [comments]


2021.03.28 22:17 tutetibiimperes Nugu Roundup #72 - Honestly, I Wanna See You Be Brave - 210328 + Album Giveaway!

Hello and welcome to the latest Nugu Roundup!
What is this?: This is a bi-weekly feature designed to highlight the unknown/underappreciated groups and soloists working hard in the Kpop world that often fall under the radar. Please share your own information, favorite performance videos, fanmeet stories, or anything else relevant below!
In the last roundup we got to learn about the new boy group Ghost9. This edition, we're going to break the rules a bit and look at a group that's recently become very non-Nugu, but who was slaving away in obscurity up until very recently. Since they've suddenly exploded in popularity, let's take a look at the journey up until now of the Brave Girls, and celebrate their graduation into the big time!
Look at the first comment below for the winner of the 25th album giveaway plus details on this roundup's album up for grabs!
What is Nugu?: While in Korean it literally means 'Who' in the broader Kpop context it refers to groups that are generally unknown amongst the greater public. It doesn't have to mean they're extremely new, though it can, and there are of course varying degrees of 'unknown' which some groups having very strong niche fandoms and others being almost invisible. I take a fairly broad view and will include groups that may be known to some, but who don't have widespread name recognition.
Let's get on with the show...
________________________________________________________
BRAVE GIRLS
Full Group Interviews
Who?: The Brave Girls are a four member girl group under Brave Entertainment. While the group originally debuted in 2011, the original lineup parted ways with the group over the years and the current lineup all joined the group in 2016. The group takes their name from their company and producer Brave Brothers, and their fandom name is FEARLESS.
Company: Brave Entertainment was founded in 2008 by producer Brave Brothers, who is actually just one person, Kang Dong Cheol. Brave Brothers has previously worked as a producer for YG Entertainment, as a solo rap artist, and has produced hits for notable groups such as T-ARA, Sistar, Brown Eyed Girls, Rania, After School, and AOA. Brave Entertainment has also represented groups BIGSTAR and 1Punch and currently also represent boy group DKB.
Members
Debut: April 8th, 2011 with Do You Know (MV) Live Stage (Link) Dance Practice (Link)
Debut Part 2: June 8th, 2011 with So Sexy (MV) Live Performance (Link) Dance Practice (Link)
First Comeback: July 29th, 2011 with Easily (feat. Skull) (MV) Live Stage (Link) Dance Practice (Link)
First Comeback Part 2: August 26th, 2011 with Easily Remix (feat. Skull) (MV) Live Performance (Link)
Second Comeback: February 22nd, 2012 with Nowadays, You (MV) Live Stage (Link) Dance Practice (Link)
Special Release: August 31st, 2013 with For You (audio)
Special Release: December 26th, 2013 with Passing of the Year (special collaboration single) (MV)
Third Comeback: February 16th, 2016 with Deepened (MV) Live Stage (Link) Dance Practice (Link)
Fourth Comeback: June 27th, 2016 with High Heels (MV) Live Stage (Link) Choreography Version (Link)
Fifth Comeback: September 1st, 2016 with Yoo-Hoo (MV)
Sixth Comeback: March 7th, 2017 with Rollin' (MV) Live Stage (Link) Live Military Performance (Link) Dance Version (Link) Viral Video (Link)
Seventh Comeback: August 11th, 2018 with Rollin' (New Version) (MV) Live Performance (Link) Dance Version (Link)
Eight Comeback: August 14th, 2020 with We Ride (MV) Live Stage (Link) Choreography Version (Link)
YouTube Channel: via Brave Entertainment
Random Stuff
Trivia: The group came very close to disbanding just as Rollin' began to blow up. Members Yujeong and Yuna has already moved out of the dorms and the members were talking about what jobs they'd want to do in their post-idol careers when the song started to climb the charts. Initially they said that they didn't expect anything to come from it as they'd been disappointed so many times before. As the song started to climb the charts the members say they started only getting a few hours sleep each night as they kept obsessively checking the charts to see how high the song as climbing and they still can't believe the blow-up of their success.
Minyoung has said she still can't believe people actually want to interview them now after so many years of no one caring about them, and is touched beyond words about the sudden interest. She also worries since they've lived in the shadows for so long that the group is not very good at typical idol interactions and wants fans to be patient as they learn idol culture.
The group is a fan of the new cover art for Rollin', which is based on a design by a fan. They feel it expresses the refreshing nature of the song better than the original cover art. The group has the greatest respect for their military fans who have always been strong for them, and say that they love military performances the best since they always get much more energy from the crowd during them which enhances the quality of their performance.
The group says that their initial impression of their CEO Brave Brothers was that he was very scary, like a tiger that had gone ten years without meat, but that over time he has mellowed out and they now have a good relationship. While the age of the group is older than most for third-generation groups, they say that Brave Entertainment specifically searched for older members to better match the age of the remaining members from the original lineup.
The group holds records for both the longest time between debut and their first music show win, and having the longest Perfect All-Kill Streak for a girl group.
________________________________________________________
SOLOIST DUO OF THE WEEK
RAINBOW NOTE
Who?: Rainbow Note are a female duo under Ruby Records specializing in the City Pop genre.
Company: Ruby Records specializes in Korean Indie artists. In addition to Rainbow Note they also represent Raffina, Motte, Fun City, and a variety of other artists.
Members
Debut: April 4th, 2019 with Line 1 (MV) Live Version (Link)
First Comeback: May 8th, 2019 with Venus/Morning Star (MV) Live Performance (Link)
Second Comeback: July 16th, 2019 with Gwangalli (MV) Live Version (Link)
Third Comeback: September 27th, 2019 with Beautiful Night (MV) Live Performance (Link)
Fourth Comeback: February 2nd, 2020 with Asteroid (MV) Live MV (Link)
Fifth Comeback: April 10th, 2020 with Cherry Blossom (MV) Live Performance (Link)
Sixth Comeback: June 1st, 2020 with Tonight (MV) Live Version (Link)
Seventh Comeback: June 7th, 2020 with Memories of Summer (MV) Live Version (Link)
Eighth Comeback: September 22nd, 2020 with Morning (MV) Live Version (Link)
Ninth Comeback: November 12th, 2020 with Button (audio) Live Video (Link)
Tenth Comeback: December 22nd, 2020 with After You've Gone (audio) Live Version (Link)
Eleventh Comeback: February 10th, 2021 with Hey, Hey, Hey (MV)
Trivia: Member Seulhee had a solo release in 2015, A Picture on a Sunday Morning (audio). Seulhee has several cats, and enjoys changing her hair color. She is generally reserved but opens up when with Sara. The group co-composes most of their songs and co-writes many of their lyrics.
________________________________________________________
IN MEMORIAM
1TEAM
Who were they?: 1TEAM was a five member boy group under Liveworks Entertainment. Their fandom name was TEAMONE.
Company: Liveworks Entertainment currently represents the solo efforts of two SHINWA members, Shin Hye Sung, and Lee Min Woo, and previously represented the solo efforts of SHINWA member Kim Dong Wan. The group was founded by former Good Entertainment (the previous agency for SHINWA) Lee Jang Eon.
Debut: March 27th, 2019 with Vibe (MV) Live Stage (Link) Dance Practice (Link)
First Comeback: July 11th, 2019 with Rolling Rolling (MV) Live Stage (Link) Dance Practice (Link)
First Comeback Part 2: July 11th, 2019 with Ice in the Cup (MV) Live Stage (Link) Dance Practice (Link)
Second Comeback: November 6th, 2019 with Make This (MV) Live Stage (Link) Dance Practice (Link)
Final Comeback: August 4th, 2020 with Ullaeli Kkollaeli (MV) Live Stage (Link) Choreography Video (Link)
YouTube Channel: 1Team Official
Active Between: March 2019 - March 2021
Reasons for Disbanding: While the company did not release an official reason for disbanding the group, it's likely due to financial concerns due to low album sales (average between 4K-5K for each of their three EPs) and the effects of COVID on the industry, and the group had a nearly year-long period between releases during the height of the pandemic.
Trivia: The group was supposed to do a US Tour in early 2020, and was able to perform several shows in March of 2020, however as the seriousness of the global pandemic began to sink in the final shows were canceled and the group returned to Korea. Member BC took part in the BOYS24 competition show as well as MixNine. He was also a former member of boy group I-REX. Member Rubin took part in BOYS24 and MixNine as well, and made it into the top 9 for MixNine and would've debuted in the group had YG not pulled the plug on the entire operation.
________________________________________________________
That's it for today, let's get the discussion on!
As always, if you have any suggestions for groups, content, or things you'd like to see, please let me know in the comments below.
Also as always, a big shout-out to u/not-named-in-credits for founding nugutown and u/sharnaranwan for continuing the work over there.
submitted by tutetibiimperes to kpop [link] [comments]


2020.07.20 03:36 ScooterPeppe [SELL] [US -> INT] Hundreds of items: Mostly all new + Used items I will part with on the cheap cheap - come peep my items! :D [ALL PRICES NEGOTIABLE!! :) ]

Hello! Thank you for checking out my thread :) Here are a few things to get started:
Onto the fun stuff!

Items are pictured here in the order of this list:

NEW ITEMS SECTION:
Odds and Ends (see pictures, alphabetical list to follow)
Because the Odds & Ends section is so long, click here to see a reddit page list of all the items numerically, as they appear in the photos
To make the above list a little more manageable, click here to see the odds and ends section items again, but ordered alphabetically by brand (item number is in parenthesis)
Ahava
Algenist
Ariana Grande
bareMinerals
benefit
The Body Shop
Bite
Botanics
Briogeo
Buxom
Calvin Klein
Carolina Herrera
Catrice
Chloé
Clinique
Coloured Raine
Covergirl x Katy Perry
Cover FX
Daily Concepts
Dermalogica
Dose of Colors
Doucce
dr.brandt
DrPacker
Drunk Elephant
Estée Lauder
Exuviance
First Aid Beauty
Flower Beauty
Freeman
Givenchy
Giorgio Armani
H2O+ Beauty
Hola Neon
House 99
I Dew Care
it Cosmetics
Ipsy
Ipsy x Tetris
Jack Black
Juice Beauty
Julep
Kate Somerville
Klorane
Korres
L.A. Girl
L'Oreal
Lancôme
Laura Geller
Living Proof
Lottie London
Love Beauty And Planet
MAC
Madison Reed
Makeup Revolution
Malin+Goetz
Marc Jacobs
Matrix Biolage
Maybelline New York
Milani
Milk Makeup
Murad
Nudestix
Nyx
Ofra
Phase Zero
Philosophy
Physician's Formula
Prada
Pür
Ralph Lauren
Real Techniques
RealHer
Redken
Revlon
Rituals
Sephora
sexyhair
Shiseido
Skyn Iceland
Smashbox
Soap & Glory
Tarte
Tata Harper
Thymes
Too Faced
Ulta Beauty
Urban Decay
Wet 'n Wild
Winky Lux
Yes To
Yves Saint Laurent

USED ITEMS SECTION:
  1. Meleah Invisible Blotting Powder; full size - this one I can't remember if I even used at all so if I did I only used it once or twice
  2. Ofra Oil Blotting Powder; full size - used once or twice
  3. Pacifica Berry Matcha Recharge Face Lotion; full size - used once to fill a sample jar, ~half left
  4. Pacifica Cocoa Rush Anti-fatigue Mask; full size - used once to fill a sample jar, ~half left
  5. Pacifica Kale Luxe Oil-Free Multi-Cream; full size - used a few times
  6. The Body Shop Vitamin C Glow-Protect Lotion SPF 30; full size - used a few times
  7. Julep Blank Canvas Mattifying Primer; full size - used once
  8. Living Proof Perfect Hair Day dry shampoo ~1/4 left
  9. Hempz Yuzu & Starfruit lip balm spf 15 ~half left
  10. Murad Hydro-Dynamic Ultimate Moisture - used once
  11. Laura Geller Lip Strip smoothing lip scrub - used once
  12. Ulta Beauty selfie light w/ mirror on back - not used, no batteries inside
  13. Colourpop You Had Me At Hello palette - used a few times, no box, shade names written in
  14. Winky Lux blush crush; shade "Zayn"; full size - used once or twice
  15. Physician's Formula mineral glow pearls; shade "Translucent Pearl"; full size - used once
  16. Mini Carolina Herrera "Good Girl" fragrance - unused or used once or twice
  17. Mini Viktor & Rolf "BonBon" fragrance - unused or used once or twice
  18. Mini Burberry "My Burberry" fragrance - unused or used once or twice
  19. Mini Miu Miu "Miu Miu" fragrance - unused or used once or twice
  20. Mini Blvgari "Coral" fragrance - used a few times
  21. Mini Davidoff "Cool Water" fragrance (larger bottle) - used a few times
  22. Mini Davidoff "Cool Water" fragrance (smaller bottle) - used a few times
  23. Mini Thierry Mugler "Aura" fragrance - unused or used once or twice
  24. Mini Calvin Klein "c2k" fragrance - unused or used once or twice
  25. Rollerball Michael Kors "Sexy Ruby" fragrance - unused or used once or twice

Thanks for looking, and please feel free to ask any questions, thanks!
submitted by ScooterPeppe to makeupexchange [link] [comments]


2020.07.11 04:09 ScooterPeppe [SELL] [US -> INT] Hundreds of items: Mostly all new + Used items I will part with on the cheap cheap - come peep my items! :D [ALL PRICES NEGOTIABLE!! :) ]

Hello! Thank you for checking out my thread :) Here are a few things to get started:
Onto the fun stuff!

Items are pictured here in the order of this list:

NEW ITEMS SECTION:
Odds and Ends (see pictures, alphabetical list to follow)
Because the Odds & Ends section is so long, click here to see a reddit page list of all the items numerically, as they appear in the photos
To make the above list a little more manageable, click here to see the odds and ends section items again, but ordered alphabetically by brand (item number is in parenthesis)
Ahava
Algenist
Ariana Grande
bareMinerals
benefit
The Body Shop
Bite
Botanics
Briogeo
Buxom
Calvin Klein
Carolina Herrera
Catrice
Chloé
Clinique
Coloured Raine
Coola
Covergirl x Katy Perry
Cover FX
Daily Concepts
Dermalogica
Dose of Colors
Doucce
dr.brandt
DrPacker
Drunk Elephant
Estée Lauder
Exuviance
Eyeko
First Aid Beauty
Flower Beauty
Freeman
Givenchy
Giorgio Armani
H2O+ Beauty
Hola Neon
House 99
I Dew Care
it Cosmetics
Ipsy
Ipsy x Tetris
Jack Black
Juice Beauty
Julep
Kate Somerville
Klorane
Korres
L.A. Girl
L'Oreal
Lancôme
Laura Geller
Living Proof
Lottie London
Love Beauty And Planet
MAC
Madison Reed
Makeup Revolution
Malin+Goetz
Marc Jacobs
Matrix Biolage
Maybelline New York
Milani
Milk Makeup
Murad
Nudestix
Nyx
Ofra
Phase Zero
Philosophy
Physician's Formula
Prada
Pür
Ralph Lauren
Real Techniques
RealHer
Redken
Revlon
Rituals
Sephora
sexyhair
Shiseido
Skyn Iceland
Smashbox
Soap & Glory
Tarte
Tata Harper
Thymes
Too Faced
Ulta Beauty
Urban Decay
Wet 'n Wild
Winky Lux
Yes To
Yves Saint Laurent

USED ITEMS SECTION:
  1. Meleah Invisible Blotting Powder; full size - this one I can't remember if I even used at all so if I did I only used it once or twice
  2. Ofra Oil Blotting Powder; full size - used once or twice
  3. Pacifica Berry Matcha Recharge Face Lotion; full size - used once to fill a sample jar, ~half left
  4. Pacifica Cocoa Rush Anti-fatigue Mask; full size - used once to fill a sample jar, ~half left
  5. Pacifica Kale Luxe Oil-Free Multi-Cream; full size - used a few times
  6. The Body Shop Vitamin C Glow-Protect Lotion SPF 30; full size - used a few times
  7. Julep Blank Canvas Mattifying Primer; full size - used once
  8. Living Proof Perfect Hair Day dry shampoo ~1/4 left
  9. Hempz Yuzu & Starfruit lip balm spf 15 ~half left
  10. Murad Hydro-Dynamic Ultimate Moisture - used once
  11. Laura Geller Lip Strip smoothing lip scrub - used once
  12. Ulta Beauty selfie light w/ mirror on back - not used, no batteries inside
  13. Colourpop You Had Me At Hello palette - used a few times, no box, shade names written in
  14. Winky Lux blush crush; shade "Zayn"; full size - used once or twice
  15. Physician's Formula mineral glow pearls; shade "Translucent Pearl"; full size - used once
  16. Mini Carolina Herrera "Good Girl" fragrance - unused or used once or twice
  17. Mini Viktor & Rolf "BonBon" fragrance - unused or used once or twice
  18. Mini Burberry "My Burberry" fragrance - unused or used once or twice
  19. Mini Miu Miu "Miu Miu" fragrance - unused or used once or twice
  20. Mini Blvgari "Coral" fragrance - used a few times
  21. Mini Davidoff "Cool Water" fragrance (larger bottle) - used a few times
  22. Mini Davidoff "Cool Water" fragrance (smaller bottle) - used a few times
  23. Mini Thierry Mugler "Aura" fragrance - unused or used once or twice
  24. Mini Calvin Klein "c2k" fragrance - unused or used once or twice
  25. Rollerball Michael Kors "Sexy Ruby" fragrance - unused or used once or twice

Thanks for looking, and please feel free to ask any questions, thanks!
submitted by ScooterPeppe to makeupexchange [link] [comments]


2020.03.05 05:22 Colourblindness Room 666: The Devil’s in the Design

You wouldn’t know it by looking at him, but my dad is actually a bit of a softie. Oh sure he acts tough and all on the outside to keep up appearances. But the truth is that when he sees one of his kids hurt, he crumbles like a cookie.
He’s a hard worker too. Besides volunteering part-time at the nearby shelter he goes over to the local hotel and runs maintenance on the graveyard shift. But he doesn’t complain a single time.
I actually wanted to do something like that this summer, build up my hours for college so I took on a scholarship program that placed me directly across town from dad at the Hotel Non Dormiunt. I decided to do yard maintenance cause I was more of a green thumb then my old man.
It wasn't always easy though cause most of the other workers were men and they picked on me because I was this scrawny little teenage girl.
Everyone except Jared that is. He was an older middle aged guy, with salt and pepper blonde hair and dazzling blue eyes. From day one he treated me like I was something special, and it made me feel absolutely great to get that kind of attention.
When some of the other workers would start jeering at me, I would want to run and hide but Jared would always defend me.
There was one particular afternoon where the heat had made me so dehydrated that I passed out and fell onto a plot of wet mud where they were getting ready to lay fresh grass. Jared swept off of the backhoe he had been driving and helped me out of the mud to get cleaned up while the others just laughed. There were a few crows nearby that seemed to join in on the fun and cawed wildly.
"You'll need a fresh set of clothes," Jared told me once I cooled down under the tent set up a few yards away.
"I can run home and grab something, but I would probably wind up missing the rest of the day," I told him.
"What size are you?" He asked. When he saw my surprised look he waved his hand and explained, "My ex-wife was pretty petite, I bet you could fit into something of hers."
I thanked him for the offer and he explained how he kept a few things of hers here at the hotel, so wasting time to get to my house wouldn't be necessary. “She loved coming here. Because we booked a room no one else wanted. Number 666.”
I gave him a weird look and he gave me a wink before tossing me the room keys and warned me not to steal anything from his suite before trotting off to go give the other workers a stern lecture.
Admittedly, I had never been inside the Hotel. So stepping onto the sixth floor, and finding room 666 was a little daunting.
But it was nothing like what you might expect.
it reminded me of some of those older Victorian style chateaus that you see in Europe from time to time and I found myself amazed at the way he kept everything so clean. It's rare to find a man that does something like that, I thought.
I lingered for a moment in his den looking at the cozy fireplace and the decorative ceramic elephants he had on display.
I felt a little uncomfortable being nosey at first and decided to find the clothes and get changed as quickly as possible. The room was actually bigger than I expected and I wondered if Jared paid the hotel extra gratuities for all of this.
I walked to the back of the long hallway and found his master bedroom, grabbing a few simple outfits that he had in boxes near the door. Each of them was labeled like they were meant for donation, and I wondered how long he had held on to any of them.
As I tried on the clothes I noticed that he still kept a few pictures of his ex-wife beside his bed and I picked up one. They looked like such a happy couple.
It was clear by the age of the photo that she had passed away quite some time ago, and it made me wonder how Jared was handling such a loss so well after all this time. In one of the photographs I saw his wife holding a small child, a girl; and it looked like they were heading for some kind of downtown marketplace. I checked my watch and realized I had spent too much time being nosey so I grabbed his keys and ran back downstairs to the worksite as quick as possible.
"Hey! I thought you got lost," Jared said and smiled from ear to ear when he saw me wearing his wife's old clothes. "See? I knew they would be a perfect fit," he told me.
I thanked him again for the small act of kindness, and finished up my work in time to meet dad at Chili's.
While we were waiting for our order, my phone vibrated and I saw it was Jared. "Hey I was just about to text you and ask when I should bring the clothes back," I told him.
"Esther, did you lock the door when you left?" he asked me. I felt my heart almost literally stop for a second. "Shit." "What's going on?" dad asked. "I think my room got robbed, I'm missing half of my stuff. Damn it, they even took my wife's jewelry, I have held on to some of it to help pay bills from time to time, sort of as a safety net," Jared said.
"Oh shit, I am so sorry," I said as I got up and walked outside the restaurant to hear him better.
"Look, it isn't your fault. Someone was probably watching and noticed you coming and going so they took advantage of the opportunity. Most of the staff here is a little shifty anyway. I'll figure a way to compensate some of the loss, maybe scrounge a few dollars from selling electronics or something," he muttered.
"No! It is my fault! And I'm going to make it up to you! I promise!!" I told him.
I ran back inside and explained to dad the situation. "That is pretty shitty," he agreed and then took a sip of his coke. "What do you plan to do, Essie?"
"If it's not a big deal, I was thinking of maybe looking through that old trunk you keep in the attic, the one with grandma's stuff in it?" I said.
He gave me a lopsided grimace, and said, "That stuff is worth a lot, and there isn't much left. I sold most of it years ago to help pay for our mortgage."
"I'm sure there has to be at least one or two things in there that could net a little money for Jared," I insisted.
Dad finally gave in and let me check out the attic the next day. It was so hot up there I could hardly keep anything on except a tank top and shorts. He was right about the trunk being mostly empty, but I did find a nice old brooch that looked like it dated back to the 40s.
I showed it to him and asked if that would be all right and once I got consent I drove over to the hotel and knocked on room 666to explain my plan.
When I got there he was cleaning out his boxes, sorting through some old stuff of his own and he seemed surprised to see me.
"I brought you something, as a token of my apology," I said passing him a small gift wrapped box I had placed the brooch in.
"Esther, what is this? I told you that you didn't have to get me anything," he said as he walked toward me.
I followed him in and looked at some of the bare shelves where he had kept some of his finer antiques and I said, "Wow they really cleaned you out, didn't they?"
“I’m sure they’ve been watching the place for years. The maids gossip a lot, call me names just cause I booked this weird room,” he said as he looked down at the gift.
He didn't respond as he opened up my gift and stared at the brooch for a long hard minute. "Do you like it?" I asked nervously. "Where.... did you get this?" He asked. His voice sounded shaky.
"My dad, it's from my grandma. She used to have a lot of older stuff she brought from Europe in the mid 40s when she left her home, she was an immigrant from the Second World War," I told him.
He kept looking at it for a long moment and then wandered off toward his bedroom like his mind was on something else. Out of curiosity I followed him back there where he had taken out an old photo album.
He showed me a photo of his own grandmother, wearing something similar to the brooch he now had in his hand and I smiled and said, "Huh, What a coincidence."
"Can't be one, My Grandma told me that she got this handmade from my grandfather before they got married, but that someone stole it a few years later," he said bluntly.
There was an awkward silence in the room for a minute and I said, "Are you sure...? I mean, I don't want to call them liars but my grandma wasn't a thief." "Did you say that you had other stuff like this?" he asked.
"Yeah, a bunch. But my dad sold most of it years ago, I'm sure if you came by the house you could check out the rest. Since both of our grandparents were immigrants, maybe they knew each other?" I suggested.
"That isn't a bad idea," he said. There was another moment of awkward silence as he kept staring at the pictures.
"You should probably get going now," he told me.
It was clearly meant to signal he didn't want me there any longer.
I stood up and bowed my head respectfully, leaving and pondering over the odd set of circumstances.
When I got home, I talked to dad about it and he seemed to find the whole thing strange as well.
"There's no way Grandma would have stolen anything even as a child. She saw her parents get gunned down by the Gestapo and barely managed to get to America alive. She was survivor, a true hero, but definitely not a thief," he said firmly.
He ruffled my hair and added softly, "You know I named you after her."
I smiled back at him and helped set the table for dinner. It was tradition for us to have a simple meal like this, and with the memory of Grandma lingering over my head I couldn't help but feel like it was a little more meaningful that night.
I went to bed and said a few prayers, slipping under the covers and calling Mom. It's been like two years since the breakup, and under ordinary circumstances I usually only call her for birthdays or holidays.
She picked up right away, the sound of music at some club blasting in the background.
"Essie? Is everything okay?" she asked, practically yelling in my ear.
"Yeah, I just miss you," I told her. I knew the break up had been mutual, and that she always felt like my dad wasted his money helping charities instead of handling responsibilities.
But I also knew that she secretly wished he had used his money on her a little more, and that ultimately had driven a wedge between them.
"Sorry sweetie, I know that it's been rough," Mom told me. We chatted for a few minutes at first and then she wandered out of the club to really talk to me. before I knew it, it was almost midnight.
"I love you Essie," she told me. "I love you too mom," I said with a smile. While I fluffed my pillow I heard a low rustling noise come from downstairs and I froze, listening to see what it was.
"Essie, how are things?" she asked me as I heard the noise again. "Hold on Mom, I thought I just heard something... like someone trying to get inside the house," I told her.
"Wait, What? Essie, don't play with me at this hour about stuff like this," she said. Then I heard glass shatter and I jumped up. "Someone's inside the house, shit I have to go," I said as I hung up the phone.
Carefully I moved toward my bedroom door and creaked it open to peer into the darkness just outside. My heart was racing as I listened for the slightest sound and i tried to think of the first move to make.
I opened the door a little wider to see if I could spot anyone coming up the stairs, and just as I was about to move to dad's room I felt someone grab me from behind.
A cold rough hand grabbed at my mouth and muffled my scream as I felt a gun hit the middle of my back and then a gruff voice coaxed me to move to my fathers room.
Standing in the doorway, my unseen assailant flipped on the lights and my dad mumbled something as he woke up. "Esther..?" he groaned as he opened his eyes and then saw what was happening.
"Who the fuck are you?" He asked as the masked man shoved me down to the floor.
"Do exactly as I say or the fraülein will pay the price," the man said. The gun was against the back of my head.
"Whatever you want, just please don't hurt my daughter," my dad said.
"A smart choice, now move downstairs," our intruder ordered.
I reached for my dad's hand and sobbed gently as we were taken downstairs and then told to sit. The masked man took out a few zip ties from his hoodie and bound my dad's hands to the armrest of the chair and then did the same thing to his feet, making certain he wasn't going anywhere.
"Take whatever you want in the house and leave," my dad pleaded.
"I fully intend to," the man said and then pointed his weapon at me. "Get up, move to the door," he ordered.
"What? My dad..." I began. "Will be fine if you do as I fucking say," he growled.
I sobbed as he pushed me outside toward his car. In the dark it was hard to see much of anything and before I knew it he had put a bag over my head.
He pushed me down the road to where he parked like an animal and I heard his trunk pop open before feeling his strong hands push me down into the open space.
The trunk slammed closed and I sobbed and screamed as my kidnapper went to the front seat and started his engine.
He turned on the radio to muffle my noise and I listened as he started humming to German lyrics. I was so fucking scared, I had no idea where I was going or why, but finally the car stopped and I was being dragged out and pushed up a flight of steps.
In another moment I was forced into a chair and the bag was ripped from my head. I took a second to get a grip on my bearings.
Then another second to look again. The fireplace, the decorative elephants.
I was in Room 666.
I felt a cold chill run down my spine as my attacker took off his hood and I stared at the man I had been working with for the past few weeks.
"Jared?? What the fuck??" I screamed.
He didn't say a word as he walked toward the back of his house and I tried not to panic, and think this through.
"Is this about the stolen stuff?? I told you I would pay you back!!" I screamed.
When he returned, he was holding the brooch I had given him earlier.
"Fuck. Look, I'm sorry about your grandma. Really I am. But dude this is too fucking far," I said as he kept staring at it.
"After the war, Grandma told me that she always admired the Jews for one thing; their hard work and their predictability," he said. It sounded like he was talking to himself.
" 'Jared', she said, 'if you are ever going to get anything done in this world, hire Jews. They will always pull through. Plus they are cheap.'"
The fire place made his eyes sparkle like diamonds.
"She wanted me to give this to my own daughter, to carry on the family bloodline another fifty years. If your family had never stolen it from mine... I would have had that chance," he said.
I stared at the trinket and said, "You can't change the past. Your family is gone. So is mine. All I have left is my dad."
"I used to think like you did. Believing that the world was a small and simple place filled with people who were just trying to make it by," Jared said.
"But I realized that even though there is a large amount of good in this world, it always have an equal measure for evil. Every society, German, Jewish, you name it. This is the result of our human nature, and nothing. Nothing can stop it..." he paused.
Then he smashed the brooch down on the table, the ornate jewels turning to shards in mere seconds. In his now scarred up hand I saw he was holding what appeared to be some sort of glowing stone, a piece of the trinket he had just torn into a thousand pieces.
"There was one who believed otherwise though, he saw the path to perfection. Grandma said one day there would be a way for him to return. That day is today," he said. The room seemed t grow darker as he talked.
He brought the stone to his mouth and then swallowed it, coughing softly as he did. I sat there in silence waiting for something to happen and then watched in shock as Jared collapsed on the floor and began to have a seizure.
His body writhed and he moaned loudly as I heard strange noises rustle through the house. It felt like there was another presence there.
Finally a cold still air filled the room and I saw Jared stand up again. But it was not the same man that I had worked with any longer.
His skin was a sickly yellow, stretched and covered in patches of dead skin. His eyes were surrounded by black rings, and the insides were void of any life altogether as he stood there, staring down at my trembling form.
"Fraülein... tell me, are you the one I must thank for my return?" he asked in a strong thick German accent.
I said nothing as he touched his face and looked at his arms. Then he walked to the mirror, saw his reflection and began to laugh.
"This body... it is a pale imitation of my last. But it will suit my needs. Yes, this will do nicely," he said with a cackle.
He wandered the room, as though confused by his surroundings. When he returned I saw he was carrying a long sharp knife in his right palm.
"I must apologize fraülein, I will have to cut out your tongue. The world must not know of my return, not until the time I deem it ready," he said. He came toward me, laughing madly like a rabid animal and I screamed out; certain I would die.
Then a shot rang out in the room and blood splattered onto my face.
I opened my eyes and looked through the open wound of the man that towered over me to see my father standing there with a sawed off shotgun in his hand.
The ghastly figure of Jared wailed angrily as it turned about, thrashing toward my dad with a new bloodlust.
My father didn't hesitate for a minute and let out several more rounds, blasting the creature's shoulder first and then his head clean off.
Jared, or whatever had taken over his body; fell to the floor and it trembled like a snake with its head cut off.
My dad ran over to me and helped me out of the bonds, hugging me tight as we both cried and held each other for a long quiet moment.
"How did you know where to find me?" I asked him.
He smiled and reached inside my back pocket, showing me he had slipped his phone inside without me knowing when Jared had first taken us downstairs.
"Thank goodness for findmyiphone," he said with a laugh as he looked down at what was left of Jared on the floor.
"I think we should go home now," he said.
I stepped over the body and held my dads hand as we left the room, still trying to recover from the horrors I had just lived through.
It took me a few weeks to actually get past it all, the whole ordeal felt like some strange dream. We contacted the police to explain the whole ordeal, and thankfully they didn't charge dad since it was considered self defense.
The police later found out that Jared was actually a German criminal, living under an assumed name here in the states.
Apparently he had found out that his family was directly related to the Fürhur himself. This led him insane and he murdered his wife and child, fleeing to the states not long after.
They raided the hotel and found a hidden cache full of Nazi memorabilia, a literal shrine where it seemed like Jared was trying to resurrect his distant tyrannical family member.
"Why would anyone do something like that dad?" I remember asking him not long after it was all over.
He smiled gently and held my hand, "You would be surprised what people do to try to reunite with the ones they love."
I nodded and went back to doing chores. "Dad..." I said as I helped him sweep the den.
"Hmm?" "I was thinking... maybe next Sunday... we could invite Mom over? Just for a little sabbath meal," I told him.
I could see there was a little pain in his eyes as I made the suggestion and I squeezed his hand and said, "If that's okay with you I mean?"
"Sounds like a good idea, Esther," he told me as he kissed my forehead and started climbing the stairs.
I know it sounds silly, but had it not been for Jared I don't think I would have ever tried to reconnect with my mom again.
I've thought about that experience a long time now, and what it taught me about the nature of good and evil. And if my grandmother and my family has taught me one thing about life it's this:
We are all connected. And every life, no matter what that life consisted of; has an impact on others.
submitted by Colourblindness to HotelNonDormiunt [link] [comments]


2019.06.08 19:33 OhHeyFreeSoup I Had No Idea My Perfume Hobby Could Be So Dangerous! (Part 2) FINAL

Part 1
CW: blood and gore
I assiduously ignored the mystery perfume on my dresser, and my life improved. Astonishingly. I gained confidence, changed my style up a bit – became freer, breezier. And my work started being recognized more and more, perhaps because I was now more recognizable. The only thing I was doing “differently” was that I was wearing my actual favorite perfume every day (Bandit), and not saving it for some “special occasion.”
Mid-March, I was promoted to team lead. I couldn’t believe it! I was finally being rewarded for all my hard work. How often does that actually happen, let’s be real about this! So obviously I was ecstatic. A bunch of us went out for drinks after work that Friday. I stopped at home first, since it was close by, and freshened up. My perfume had faded by then, and the rainbow bottle stared at me. Mocking me. I remembered its zesty orange, Chinese hawthorn goodness sprinkled over animalic leather – no, not leather, hide. Hide and raw incense. My previous collapse faded past distant memory, nothing more than a dream.
It was party time. I sprayed myself from the poufy atomizer, and off I went.
The place was louder than I usually like, and had a whole lot more neon and strobing. But what the hell, we were young and alive. And they made Bamboos here. So I got mine, we all talked and laughed, and the heavenly, comforting scent of haw flakes wafted up to my nose. Life was good.
I approached the bar to get my second Bamboo and then close out my tab when I heard a man next to me say, “This one’s on me.”
I turned my head to see just who this arrogant man was, but the words were silenced in my throat when I saw his well-clad, fit 6’3” frame and Hollywood chiseled jaw. He had to be an actor. Or a model. Somebody important, and with the money to show for it.
“Lady wants a Bamboo,” the bartender informed him as he started preparing my drink. I was still a bit dumbstruck.
“You’re a sherry drinker?” the man asked me as I received my finished cocktail. “Hadn’t had you pegged, and I’m usually pretty good at guessing. Sherry reminds me of old British dudes with suede shoulder pads. Unless, of course, you’re just a really good cook.”
I took a sip of my drink and smiled. “Your brand of negging is truly unique. How long did it take you to study it?”
He tilted his head to the side and gave me one of those glances, like he wasn’t sure who he was dealing with. He was the kind of man whose blue eyes you could get lost in – and I almost did. But the hackles on my neck raised, along with goosebumps down my arms and legs.
“I didn’t study anything,” he attempted to assure me. “I’m not a Pickup Artist, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Oh, so that was one of your characters’ lines?” I asked, and that actually got a laugh out of him.
An abnormally long laugh, verging on the cartoonish. The cackle carried on and on, deepening, slowing till it was like a Sonar pulse through uncharted ocean. And I felt like I was being hunted. The aroma of incense filled my nostrils, but it was cold – the impossible scent of burning ice quickened my heart in fury. My mind went black.
I awoke early the following morning, the sun barely rising over the horizon. My room was gray and cold, and my head began to spin even as I lay down. It didn’t take me long to piece together that nausea woke me up – I took a deep breath before darting to my bathroom, barely able to lift the lid of the toilet before spewing inside. I tried not to look at it – vomit is one of the most disgusting things in the world to me, so I just tried to focus on the upcoming relief as my stomach emptied its contents.
How much had I drunk? I only remembered the one Bamboo, and then a little of the second – the one that actor had bought me. Did I even finish that? Even so, two Bamboos should not have made me puke my guts out, I knew my tolerance… But what if my tolerance was changing? Should I be drinking at all, if this is what alcohol started to do to me? Tipsiness couldn’t be worth this. My mother’s uncle had lived back in Sichuan, Uncle Jufeng. He had been jiu ni zi, a phrase I remember from my older Chinese relatives that they would use to describe someone who basically “stuck with alcohol for the day-to-day.” He died face down in the gutter somewhere in Chengdu when I was a baby. My head buzzed and whirred with remembered stories of him.
Alcoholism has both environmental and genetic contributing factors. Could I become an alcoholic, like the uncle I never got to meet?
When I was finally done, I took several deep breaths, my stomach truly relieved. I leaned up to flush the toilet when, against my better judgement, I peaked into the bowl to see what had come out of me.
The contents were red. Russet red, deep and bold – much bolder than a mere Bamboo cocktail combined with some pretzels and stomach bile. This color… this was the color of old blood.
Was I bleeding internally? I shot up, panicking, ignoring a string of saliva that slapped into my chin and down my neck as I gazed at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. My eyes looked fairly normal, not glassy at all, and my complexion seemed healthy – not pallid, oily, or perspiring. I didn’t look sick. Pushing aside my squeamishness, I grimaced so I could see my teeth. Usually pearly white (brilliant smiles are practically compulsory in L.A.), they were now stained an ugly brown, as if I’d drunk coffee right before bed. I almost dismissed that as having been caused by the vomit, but then I looked at my lips, which were also stained russet, with some of the color creeping onto the surrounding skin.
Shaking my head in confusion, I flushed the toilet – and saw my hands and arms absolutely covered in blood, squiggly lines trailing to my elbows. Looking down, I finally noticed that I was still wearing my dress from the night before, and it, too, was splattered with blood. Running the faucet and staring at my reflection and paying attention to the pattern of the stains, I cupped my hands to my mouth and sipped at the water.
I looked like I’d cupped blood in my hand and lifted it to my mouth, letting it brim over and run down my arms.
The water in my hands splashed into my sink as I collapsed onto my knees, shaking and sobbing. I almost threw up again, except there was nothing left. I immediately jumped into the shower, scrubbing my skin until it was raw, knowing only then that the blood was gone. My water ran cold as I meticulously dug out every speck of dried blood from underneath my fingernails.
Coming out of the bathroom still dripping wet, I looked at the bedsheets with scattered bloodstains and thanked the ancestors that my building had a washer and dryer, and that I likely wouldn’t have any competition this early on a Saturday. Putting on my comfiest pajamas, I wrapped up my soiled dress in the sheets and brought them, along with my mother’s ancient, discontinued stain remover, to the laundry room. I applied the dish soap-like stain remover to the bloodied cloth and scrubbed furiously before tossing it all into the machine, holding vigil at the washer’s side till it finished to make absolutely sure the blood was history. I dropped the dried sheets back onto my bed in a heap since I had absolutely no energy to make it, and then brushed my teeth till my gums bled. Everything happened as though I watched someone else perform these actions, my movements sluggish and disconnected from my thoughts.
I walked back into my room and felt something on the carpet underneath my left foot. Looking down, I saw that I’d stepped on a watch. I don’t own any watches. Picking it up, I realized it was a men’s Omega watch, very sharp – and fucking expensive. The kind that would be registered with home insurance, with an easily traceable serial number. Shit, how could I possibly get rid of this with no ties to me? I couldn’t think, so I just shoved it in a drawer in my jewelry box – more like a jewelry cabinet, since it had two doors and six drawers.
My hair drying in knots, I collapsed back onto my mattress pad and looked at my phone – it was only 7:45 a.m., but I had email alerts. Dismissing them as likely junk, I didn’t think anything of pressing the notification and opening my inbox. True, most of the emails were promotions, or petitions, but the bottom one…
Yefrem. The Russian chemist to whom I’d sent the perfume sample, he finally emailed me back! The email was from yesterday. I’d almost forgotten about it altogether. Did I really want to read about perfume at 7:45 in the morning, after I’d spent almost two hours washing away blood?
Yes. Yes I did. So I opened the email.
Dear ________,
I am so sorry to return you so late! Please forgive me! This letter has long been in my drafts!
This “fragrance” is a riddle. You were right to suggest mask – it is powerful! What is so curious about this perfume, is its oil content. Most “eaux de parfum” have oil content of 15%, may be. “Parfum” / “extrait” can have 20-25%, and perfume oil 30%. Perfume oil is oil based, and the others are in alcohol. However, I do not know what to call this fragrance! It is in alcohol (it allows you to project), but oil content is 45%! It makes fragrance act, as you said, “beast mode.”
Top notes are orange, mandarin, bitter orange, and white currant. The sweetness made me want to call it a Citrus Gourmand, it was like Triple Sec! I know so many people who would want it because of this. But, as you said, the smell disappeared after three hours.
As you said in your email, after orange it smelled like Chinese hawthorn. However, I have to tell you, no hawthorn in this fragrance. I think the top notes go to the heart and create this fragrance. Heart note: Dragon’s Blood. Do not let the name scare you! This is a resin from the Dragon’s Blood Tree that grows in Socotra, island of Yemen but it is close to Somalia. Possibly, this is the most biodiverse place in the world. There are many plants and animals that only live here, including the Dragon’s Blood Tree (Dracaena cinnabari). Resin is used for many remedies: ulcers, rheumatism, toothpaste, even abortifacient. It has also been used historically in “alchemy” and “magic.” Resin scent is like a cola, but it burns. There are nuances of alcohol, like whiskey. I can understand if orange leads to resin and smells like Chinese hawthorn for you. Dragon’s Blood is incense, and not common in perfumery. I have never before encountered such attention.
However, base notes are very disturbing. All leather and animalism. Leather accord is birch and frankincense, which is nothing wrong. There is goat hair tincture, and hyrax – little rodent from Middle East and North Africa. Hyrax loves to relieve himself in the same place, always. It is easy to recover petrified excrement for perfumery, and the animal is not injured. Again, nothing wrong. But there is also castoreum, received from beaver testicles. Today, castoreum is synthetically created because of ethics: we do not want to kill beavers for perfume. However, the castoreum in this fragrance is real. This usually means the fragrance is old, but white currant buds are relatively new in perfumery. That means someone killed an animal, or at least castrated it, and your fragrance is against the rules of the International Fragrance Association (IFRA), and against animal cruelty laws depending on where it was created. It could not be legally purchased from a licensed seller in the United States. It must have been smuggling. I need to do more research to find out where it came from, but I think the Middle East, based on the composition. Especially on the Arabian Peninsula. Or China, may be.
There is also one more note that I cannot define. It is animalistic, but I do not think it is a mammal. If I didn’t know better, I think the scent contains snake venom!
Thank you for this fascinating puzzle! I will contact you if I find out anything else.
Sincerely,
Yefrem _______ Editor at Fragnetica.com
For several minutes, I stared at my phone in silence.
An abundance of animalic ingredients in the base would explain the rawhide scent. But an ingredient that would’ve resulted in an animal being killed for it? And snake venom? I was putting that on my body?
Closing my eyes, I tried to remember the previous day. I pieced together my workday, going out, meeting that actor-type at the club… but I could never move past his strident laugh.
I turned my head and saw the rainbow flacon on my vanity, just staring at me. Mocking me. The only thing preventing me from picking it up and hurling it against the wall was that I didn’t want to release the fumes. Tossing my phone aside on the mattress, I pressed the heels of my palms against my eyes and tried to calm down. I almost had another wave of nausea until I remembered the resin Yefrem had described, and the tree it had come from – endemic only to the Yemeni island of Socotra.
I booted up my laptop and did an image search of Dragon’s Blood resin, finding deep red rocks and powder that was almost fluorescent in its brightness. I had trouble reconciling in my brain that this was a naturally occurring substance, not something mundane submerged in red dye. Then I looked up Socotra, finding a blog about “The Most Alien-Looking Place on Earth” and scrolling through photo after photo of emerald waters, white sand beaches, and dunes stretching as far as the eye can see. Then there were giant caves with opalescent stalactites, purple-shelled crabs at the edge of the jade lagoon, blue tarantulas, so-called “Bottle Trees” with thick white trunks incongruously thinning toward the top and sprouting gnarled upright branches tipped with lush pink flowers, and the Dragon’s Blood Tree.
The trunk was ordinary enough, white, a bit knotted. It grew up to a lush and verdant canopy with a bottom parallel to the ground, shaped like the top of a toadstool and supported by a thick net of branches resembling a capillary system. The landscape was dotted with these trees, sloping up a mountainside like a mushroom growth – beautiful, but infectious. I scratched my arms at the crawling sensation that invaded me when I made the connection, but I couldn’t take my eyes off the trees. Time both rushed and ceased to exist, the sky darkening and clouds rushing away as everything faded but the trees of gnarled veins. And they called to me.
There was pounding on the front door to my apartment, and it jolted me from my waking nightmare. I closed everything out and went to the door, asking before peeking through the little peephole, “Who is it?”
“LAPD, ma’am,” a man on the other side responded, dressed in plainclothes but holding his badge up to the peephole so I could get a look at it. Cautiously, I unbolted the door and opened it halfway, not really caring about my disheveled appearance.
The man who had shown me his badge introduced himself and his partner as detectives with the LAPD, and asked if I’m so-and-so. I confirmed that much, and the detective asked me if I went to the nightclub I’d attended the night before.
“Yes, I went with several of my coworkers,” I said, doing my best to control my breathing while fighting body aches and returning nausea. This was information that could be readily obtained from any of my coworkers, so I gave it freely.
The verbal detective nodded, and then took a photo out of his pocket. “Do you recognize this man?”
I looked down at the photo. It was the man from the nightclub, the actor-type – actually, it looked like his headshot, a happy expression on his face. Seeing that face made me want to vomit, so I waited a few seconds before responding, “He was at the nightclub last night. At least, I’m pretty sure it was him.” I paused, looking from one detective to the other, before asking, “Could you please tell me what this is about?”
The formerly silent detective took the opportunity to ask, “You look a little sick, are you feeling all right?”
He didn’t ask out of any real concern – I could tell by both his tone, and the way the other detective turned to give him a WTF expression. Did they have different agendas? Feeling dazed, I replied slowly, “Actually, I’m a little under the weather this morning, but thank you for asking. Could you please tell me what this is about?”
The first detective cleared his throat. “We’d… like you to come down to the station with us and answer a few questions.”
Oh no. Had I done something to this man? Was that… his blood? His watch on my floor? The hackles on the back of my neck raised, and I straightened my posture. “Do I need a lawyer present?”
Talkative gave a scoffing laugh, the kind I’m sure is supposed to make people relax but just sets me on edge instead. “Look, ma’am… all we want to do is ask you some questions about last night.”
I nodded. “All right then, I’ll go to the station – but I’m contacting my lawyer so that he meets us there, because I’m talking to him first.”
Talkative looked confused, and Terse stated… tersely, “Do you know how that makes you look?”
“I’m sure,” I conceded. “But I’ve also grown up in this city.”
Blessedly, the detectives were silent after that. They allowed me to get dressed and put my hair up, and call my family’s lawyer, before we all headed to their vehicle (since I don’t have a car).
As we made our way downstairs, we ran into Fernanda, starting an early shift. She looked back and forth from the police to me, but off my smile she relaxed.
¡Hola! ¿Cómo está?” I said in the start of our usual routine. But she didn’t respond like she usually did. Instead, she immediately lined her left hand next to her face so I could see her engagement ring in all its glory. I gasped, and I’m sure my surprised expression was cartoonish, but I couldn’t help it! The ring itself was a demure solitaire, possibly vintage, but the diamond sparkled brilliantly even in the low light of the emerging dawn.
“He popped the question?” I exclaimed in glee.
“He pop-eh the cuestión!” was her elated reply.
“Your novio… no estúpido! No longer!” I declared in my broken, laughing Spanglish before I hugged her and left with the detectives. Once outside, and still smiling, I explained, “It’s a running gag between us. I’d always ask her if her boyfriend proposed, and since she always said no, I told her that her boyfriend was estúpido.”
Talkative gave a slight smile of acknowledgment, but Terse didn’t even pretend to care as he held the back door open for me. I’d never ridden with police before, and as I watched us traverse the L.A. sprawl, I wondered if this was a view I’d need to get used to. Dashing off a reply email to Yefrem, I thanked him for his efforts but told him that I thought it would be best if he found a way to safely dispose of the perfume sample I’d sent, and that I would try to do the same.
My family’s lawyer was waiting at the station to talk to me. He has known my family for decades – I’ve known him my whole life. He was Chinese, like us, so I always called him Shūshu (Chinese for “Uncle”). When we were alone, I ran up and hugged him and fought the urge to cry. “Shushu, I’m so glad you’re here!”
“Always, xiao hua,” he replied, patting my back (calling me “little flower,” as usual). He leaned back to look at me with his smiling brown face and salt-and-pepper hair. “But what is this about? My practice is in real estate! I don’t… I don’t normally deal with criminal matters – unless it’s a contract violation. What do you need me here for?”
I took a deep breath, and told him as much as I could: I went to a club last night with several of my coworkers, had a couple drinks, and spoke to the man whose photograph they showed me. “However,” I concluded with some embarrassment, since he was an ender to whom I looked up, “I don’t remember anything else about last night.”
“Don’t remember?” Shushu asked. Then he sighed. “That’s not good. Look, I advise that you tell the detectives exactly what you just told me. Exactly. Just tell them the truth.”
Too bad those two things weren’t entirely the same. But I nodded, and when the detectives entered the room where we were sitting, Talkative asked, “Would you like to tell us about last night, now?”
Shushu turned to me and placed his hand on mine. “Tell them exactly what you told me. You should be fine.”
So I sighed and repeated everything I’d told Shushu, and I was greeted with silence from both detectives. After several moments, it was Terse who spoke up, “So you don’t remember how you got home?”
“Unfortunately, no,” I said. “Although since the place is close to where I live… maybe I just walked home? I don’t know, I’m sorry.”
I braced myself for their response. The two detectives glanced at each other before looking back at us, and Talkative spoke, “One of your coworkers reported you missing at three o’clock this morning.”
Well. That wasn’t the response I’d expected. “What… why? Why would they report me missing?”
“Because you were,” was Talkative’s reply, with a smile, like he was trying to hide the fact that he thought I was an idiot. “You disappeared from the club without telling anyone and left your drink behind. And you didn’t respond to any calls or texts. Now, we initially didn’t prioritize the report, because when we asked if they believed you had been kidnapped, they were… ambivalent about whether to say yes or no.”
“In retrospect,” Terse interjected, “it should’ve been an emphatic ‘hell yes.’”
Now it was my turn to look from one detective to the other. “I’m sorry, I’m so confused… Can I just ask, what does any of this have to do with the man whose photo you showed me?”
Terse opened up a folder and took out three photographs, all much larger than the one they’d shown me earlier. They were of the same young actor, but he was not clean and smiling. He was lying in an alley somewhere, gravel lining his supine form. His hair was matted with blood, and great gashes cut so deeply into his neck that he might actually have been decapitated. Part of his lip had been ripped off, revealing blindingly white teeth and ruby red gums. Claw marks ran down his face, disfiguring him into a macabre mélange of gore and decay.
The detective must have been paying close attention to my reaction, because he was ready at my side with the trash can before I’d even realized I was going to throw up. Nausea roiled uncontrollably, and as soon as I turned my head bile came rushing up my throat and into the can. It was clear, yet vilest taste of my life, almost starting a vicious cycle of vomit – luckily my stomach emptied fairly quickly, and after a few deep breaths I mustered, “Thank you.”
Shushu, however, was horrified. And furious. “You can’t do that to people! You can’t show people something like this without warning them!”
“You really should’ve warned them,” Talkative told his partner, earning a glance of exasperation. He turned back to me. “Are you feeling better? I could get you some water –”
“Water would be nice!” Shushu told him, rather forcefully. I simply nodded, and it wasn’t long before a uniformed officer returned with two water bottles. It took several gulps before I was ready to speak again.
Talkative identified the man and went on to say, “We discovered his body at around five o’clock this morning, two blocks away from the club – but in the opposite direction of your apartment. We’re still waiting for the M.E.’s full report, but he was estimated to have been dead for no more than four hours –”
“Looks like an animal attack!” Shushu exclaimed, picking up one of the photos and shaking his head at it. “Like a great… big… dog – have you had any dog attacks in the area?”
Terse shook his own head. “The wounds are inconsistent with dog maulings, none of them are from bites.”
“So…” Shushu said, putting the photo down and curling his own fingers in front of him. “What, something… scratched him to death?”
“We don’t know yet if the wounds were caused by animal claws, bare hands, or a blade of some kind,” Terse replied. “But we do know his luxury watch is missing.”
“Again, we’re still waiting for the autopsy,” Talkative reiterated. “But what we were trying to figure out was whether you had witnessed anything.”
“Come on,” Terse told him. “We knew that wouldn’t be the case.”
“How?” I finally spoke. “How did you know that wouldn’t be the case?”
“Remember how we said that you’d left your second drink behind?” Talkative asked. Off my nod, he continued, “Well, you’d left most of the drink in the glass, and your coworkers never touched it. Meaning… they didn’t throw it away when they called. And neither did staff at the club. So it was still in the glass when we got there.”
“We took the contents to the lab,” Terse took over. “Your drink tested positive for Lorazepam. That’s a benzo–”
“I know what it is,” I told him before putting my head in my hands, trying not to shake. “So I was drugged. I… I don’t think it was him – I don’t think he ever touched my drink! And I never take my eyes off my drink, my mother drilled that into my head, how–?”
“We already got a confession,” Terse assured me. “The bartender caved pretty quick, after the body was found. He put the tablet in you drink while he was fixing it. Apparently he and this dude had a… a thing going –”
“I think the word the bartender used was ‘scheme,’” Talkative added.
Shushu was aghast. “It was the bartender? It’s bad enough young women need to be wary of their dates, you’re saying they need to be watching the bartender, too!”
“Shushu, calm down, it’s all right –”
“No, it’s not all right! I knew you were not a heavy drinker, you were drugged –”
“And the man who drugged her is in custody,” Terse assured him. “However, he is not a suspect in the homicide, since he was inside the club until closing, with plenty of witnesses.”
“If you remember anything about last night,” Talkative said, handing me a card with his contact information, “anything at all, please, call us.”
I thanked him and left with Shushu, who kept telling me the whole car ride to call my parents and let them know what happened. My head pounding, I said I’d call them when I got home and sat down – though really, I wanted to forget the whole day had ever happened.
I’d killed that man. I must have. But if I was drugged… what were we doing in that alley? Was it self-defense? Brutal self-defense. Had he dragged my drugged ass out of the club to… do… something…? It was too terrifying for me to contemplate for more than five seconds at a time.
When Shushu dropped me off at my apartment, he stayed out front until he saw me enter the front door and wave goodbye. I thought about how I needed to brush my teeth again – how I really should throw out my current toothbrush and get a new one. How I should find some way to get rid of that watch.
I don’t know what made me look over the railing toward the stairs leading to the underground parking garage. It’s not like I ever went down there – I didn’t own a car. But as I started walking up the stairs to the first floor, where my apartment was, I looked over. Many people might not have noticed anything, given that the stairs themselves looked normal, and the tiles were polished. But there was an area in front of the door leading to the garage that did not look polished. It was dark, much darker than the tiles, and forming a kind of half-moon shape.
Cautiously, I turned back and went down the steps, coming closer to the darkness. I thought it was black at first, then dark brown, but once I stood before it I saw it was a deep russet color. And it was liquid, the borders of the spill not as clear as they had seemed from above.
I knew this color. This was the same color that had been all over me this morning. I leaned toward the door, painfully aware of the sound of my breathing as I listened for any sounds on the other side. I heard absolutely nothing. Turning the knob as slowly and silently as possible, I pulled the door open –
Fernanda. She was sprawled on the garage floor, unnaturally contorted, her once brown eyes fading to blue as she stared sightlessly at me. Her uniform was shredded, with gashes running all over her body and blood pooling around her head and between her legs, seeping under the door.
The breath rushed out of me in a wheeze as my hands went to my scalp and clutched my hair. I couldn’t scream. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe hot tears drip from my eyes. And still Fernanda’s paling eyes were fixed on me.
Her phone vibrated, and I jumped a mile at the sound, leaving the doorframe and letting the door slam shut. Terrified that I’d alerted someone to my presence, I froze again, my hands over my mouth. Minutes passed with no one coming, so I resolved to go to my apartment, sit down in the kitchen, and call 911. I trudged up the stairs slowly, my head buzzing and my eyes still teary. Entering the first floor hallway and turning right, my apartments a few doors away, I stumbled over something on the carpet and fell down.
Great, I thought. Just one more fucking thing. Leaning up, I turned my head to see just when I’d tripped over, and was greeted with the sight of a doorknob encircled in wood, rolling on the carpet in a half circle before coming to a stop next to my head. I blinked a few times, wondering if that would make the absurd sight go away, but there it remained, right in front of my face: a door knob that looked as though it had been ripped from someone’s door.
I blinked again, not wanting to look up. But I knew I had to. Slowly, I forced my head to turn up and finally see the door to my apartment. The door that had a great big hole where the doorknob used to be.
Something clattered to the floor on the other side.
I scrambled back on my feet, screaming. And I kept screaming as I ran down the steps and out of the apartment building, stopping at a palm tree and holding it for support. I couldn’t stop screaming, couldn’t see past the tears, couldn’t let go of the tree if my life depended on it.
A homeless man came up to me. “Miss?” he was asking, his breath atrocious but the absolute least of my worries. “Miss, you okay?” What came out of my mouth was a garbled, sobbing mess, but he deciphered 911 from it. I handed him my phone, and thank God, the ancestors, whoever, that he was an honest man, because he stood next to me and called the police: “Yeah, operator, I’m on, uh…” He gave the address. I could hardly hear him over my own babbling, but he spoke as calmly as he could. “I’m standing next to this lady, I’m using her phone, and she was screaming and crying, can’t stop crying ’bout something in her building… oh Lord, she said there’s a dead body in there, oh my God. Yeah, operator, there’s a dead body in this building, and there might be somebody in her apartment. It don’t sound good. It don’t sound good at all.”
Cops showed up in record time. I tried my best to explain, but I was hyperventilating at this point, so most of their information came from the homeless man. Sure enough they found Fernanda’s body, and they entered into my apartment – no one was in it, but it looked ransacked, so they took pictures of everything.
After about half an hour I’d sufficiently calmed down, and a familiar vehicle pulled up in front of the building. As soon as it hit park, Detectives Talkative & Terse stepped out of it.
“Not how I thought we’d see you again!” Talkative remarked, like it was helpful.
“Did you know the victim?” Terse asked, staying relevant. I decided I liked him much better.
I nodded. “She was… one of the people who cleaned the building. You guys met her this morning.”
“The woman who got engaged?” asked Talkative, which made me tear up again as I nodded. They asked me to lead them to my apartment, and I did, past all the other panicking building occupants, without a second thought. But it wasn’t until I entered my overturned kitchen that I remembered: the watch! It was still in my jewelry cabinet, what if they found it!
While my apartment was a fucking sty, I didn’t notice anything missing – until I reached my bedroom and looked at my dresser, and at the big empty space where my jewelry cabinet used to be.
“Oh my God!” I shouted before I could control my reaction. The detectives came in after me, and I told them there used to be a jewelry cabinet sitting on my dresser next to my vanity, but now there was nothing. They asked for a description of the cabinet, as well as any valuables inside, which I did – omitting the Omega watch, of course.
“My nǎinai’s pearls were in there…” I lamented, grieving and exhausted. Then I looked at my vanity, with all my perfumes: Bandit, Kelly Calèche, Bright Neroli, Romance…
“The perfume is gone,” I muttered, coming up to the vanity. “There was a perfume here, I’d purchased it at a garage sale, it was in a… really tacky rainbow bottle, no idea what it was called. Seller didn’t know either. I’d actually emailed somebody…” I ended up going on and describing the perfume database and how one of their chemists had analyzed a sample and found it suspect.
“And now the perfume is missing,” said Terse. “Is it the only one?”
Off my affirmation, Talkative speculated, “Hermès, Ralph Lauren… This is designer stuff. He takes the unidentified perfume, and leaves the designer stuff?”
“Could be he knew about its contents,” Terse responded. Once we verified that nothing else was missing, I approached Terse away from his partner and said, “I know your partner gave me his card earlier today… no offense to him, but I think I’d rather have yours.”
Terse just cracked a slight smile and handed me his card, adding, “I’d like for you to forward me the emails between you and that chemist.”
“Sure thing, absolutely,” I replied, wondering how to go about setting my apartment to right. Though before the police left, Terse said one last thing to me:
“The victim’s engagement ring is missing.”
First thing I actually did, once I was alone, was call my parents. My father had just flown to Europe on business, but my mother was home – and then I had to calm her down and assure her I was unharmed. She insisted on coming over immediately to help me straighten out my apartment, and amongst news about my little brother at university, silly anecdotes about my childhood, and perfectionist Chinese-mother rants about my apparent lack of housekeeping prior to the robbery (sorry my Swiffer isn’t thin enough to reach behind the cabinet my TV sits on, Mom), we cleaned everything up just as the sun set and ordered dinner from Yang Chow. We also agreed not to tell my father anything until he got back home.
That night, before drifting into a fitful sleep, I forwarded the email chain between myself and Yefrem to Detective Terse, and the following morning I woke up to an alert from the detective that Yefrem’s mailbox had been disabled, as well as frantic texts from my coworkers and some friends who’d heard I’d been “missing.” I couldn’t divulge too many details about the ongoing investigation(s), but I assured everyone that I was safe and sound. Turning my head and looking at the empty spot on my vanity, I felt a great emptiness in my chest, the smell of Chinese hawthorn funereal in my memory.
After a thorough shower, I sat down at my desk, booted up my laptop, and decided to Google the chemist’s name. I don’t know why I decided to Google him, nor do I know why I initially hesitated. It was just an internet search, after all. Though I expected his profile on the perfume database to be the top result, what actually showed up first was a Russian newspaper article. I clicked the “Translate this page” option, and was greeted with an article about a grizzly homicide in Moscow.
On Thursday night, the body of one of the editors of the perfume database was found in the onsite laboratory. The police initially thought she had been mauled by some kind of animal, given the wounds, but the rest of the lab was in pristine condition. That, and she had apparently been… broken? Google translated, but I shudder to think what had actually been written, given how I’d found Fernanda (a vision that had plagued me all night). The article concluded to state that Yefrem was extremely dangerous and possibly on “mind-altering substances,” and authorities were investigating whether he could have fled the country.
But one line stood out to me more than any other:
“The jewels of the victim were missing on her body.”
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2018.11.13 08:11 ghost_write_the_whip Ageless: Chapter 42

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There was a time when the False King Malstrom was not considered the most hated figure in the Radical Movement. Some of the most heinous acts of the the Radical Uprising were rumored to be another general, known commonly as Set the Sinner. Set's legions had razed towns to the ground and massacred hundreds before Father Caollin and Malstrom finally agreed to cut ties with the controversial figure, stripping him of his titles.
Not much is known about Set's private life, as he rarely made public appearances outside of battle, though many urban legends surround the enigma. Famously, Set's first job upon joining the faith was said to be working as a steward for Father Caollin's local church. Most priests from his church described the young man as intelligent, polite, and friendly, save for those few assigned to hearing confessionals, who tended to avoid him.
-The False King, E. Wentworth p. 201, 1630 PNC
I had expected the Molder's Laboratory to look like a place to treat patients, similar to the hospital ward in the palace, but in reality it looked much closer to an art gallery.
Paintings of all sizes lined the walls of the ante-chamber. Mostly they depicted faces, but there were several full-sized portraits of people I did not recognize too, all done in a style of photo-realism. Not all of the faces were beautiful, though the majority were, their features staring lifelessly across at their counterparts on the opposite wall. The floor of the room was filled with statues and sculptures as well, some half-busts resting on marble pedestals, other full statues positioned around a giant fountain in the center.
The fountain, which naturally was the focus of the entire room, was one large statue itself. It was a life-sized model of a woman, tall and slender, carved from white marble. The figure was naked, with two giant wings spreading from her shoulder blades, and her chin pointed upwards at the ceiling towards her right hand, which raised a slim golden scepter in-layed with gemstones, glinting in the torchlight. A stream of water sprouted from the scepter's tip, falling into the pool at the figure's feet.
I approached the statue, admiring the craftsmanship. Everything had been sculpted meticulously down to its minutiae, from the toning of each muscle, down to the frayed edges of the feathers lining the wings.
“You like it?” a young woman's voice asked from behind me.
I spun around to face the speaker, a woman of maybe eighteen or nineteen, staring back at me with wide hazel eyes. She was tall and willowy, dressed in flowing silks, with tan skin and a tumble of dark-brown hair, tied back in a ponytail with a strip of leather.
“It's brilliant,” I said.
“We made it,” she said, a bit shyly, as if she felt self-conscious about bragging. “We practice our gift on statues. Helps us refine our skills for the real procedures.”
“Wow. What is this one supposed to be?”
The girl giggled. “Come now my lady, you must recognize it!” She took a closer look at me and saw I was serious. Instantly her face turned a bright red and her eyes darted to the floor. “Oh sorry, I thought you were joking. It's our take on the Angel from the Outside. We took a few liberties on her appearance, so our final image looks a bit different than the king's vision, but altering appearances is exactly what he pays us to do down here – ”
“Lydia?” another woman's voice called from a side chamber. “Where did you run off to?”
A second woman stepped into the room, just as beautiful as the first, although in a different sort of way. Her hair was jet-black, her skin pale and milky, and her features sharper. “I need your help...”
She trailed off as her gaze leveled on me. “Queen Jillian!” she stammered, and then she immediately fell into a bow. “You visit us at last!”
The first girl, Lydia, turned back to me and her eyes widened. “You don't mean, she's not...”
“Lydia! Kneel, you imbecile!”
Lydia stood frozen for a minute, and then she fell down on her knees next to the other woman. “I am so sorry my queen, it's just I've never seen you in person...had I known your grace would be pleasing us this morning with her presence – ”
“It's okay,” I said, starting to feel heat rise to my face. “Really. Please, stand up....and you can call me Jillian.”
The two women rose back to face me. Lydia's face had paled, as if she was afraid she was about to be arrested for failing to recognize me, but the second woman was beaming. “We have been waiting quite some time for you to pay us a visit, my queen.”
“You were?”
“Yes. The king told us some time ago that you would require our services. We were overjoyed to hear such news.” She curtsied. “I am Gloria Raynull, at your service, and this naive one here is my twin sister Lydia.”
“Twins?” I asked, surprised. The two women looked nothing alike. Most notable was their difference in skin color, as Lydia's was the color of caramel, while Gloria's skin was a milky white.
“Yes, twins,” Lydia said, her girlish smile re-surfacing. “Years ago, we looked identical, but when you possess the power to alter your own appearance, you tend to change it from time to time.” She pointed at her sister. “That beautiful face is my own handiwork.”
“And the much prettier face to my left is my handiwork,” Gloria said with a grin. “I was always more talented, which means my sister gets to enjoy the benefits of my skill. Lydia's beauty is second to none.”
“You can dream, sister,” Lydia said, “but perhaps we should get a third opinion.” The two women turned to face me in unison. “Queen Jillian, which one of us has made the more beautiful face?”
I froze, unsure of how to answer without offending anyone. “That's kind of a loaded question, isn't it?”
“Perhaps.” Gloria smirked at me. “You don't need to answer though, your eyes betray your thoughts.” She took a step closer towards me, and locked her hazel eyes on mine. The sisters have the same color eyes, at least. “They say the faces I mold can seduce man and woman alike.”
“No one says that,” Lydia chimed in.
“Yes, they do.” Gloria glanced back towards the door behind her. “You must be here to see Lady Luria then.”
“Who?”
“Lady Luria,” Lydia echoed, as if I hadn't heard the name the first time.
“Our most experienced female molder,” Gloria explained. “A true master in our craft. Lady Highburn requests her by name each time she pays us a visit.”
“Her work is a bit too perfect, to be honest” Lydia added. “Especially with the eyebrows. Too thin and flawless to trick the human mind if you ask me.”
“No one asked you,” Gloria tapped her foot. “Pay no mind to my sister. Lady Luria would be a fine choice for our queen.” She leaned in close to whisper to me, so that each word tickled my ear. “Just between us though, my sister and I could make you a face that drives the king mad with lust.”
“That's okay,” I said, “the king's already mad enough as it is, thank you.”
“Queen Jillian!” Both girls immediately looked alarmed, and Gloria jumped back as if I had struck her. “You should never say such things about the Reborn One.”
“Okay, relax. It was a joke.”
“Ah. Humor. Very good.” Lydia forced a laugh, then spun on her heel and made for the door in the back of the lobby. “Anyways, let us go fetch our Lady for you.”
“No, that won't be necessary,” I said. “I was actually hoping to see a different molder.” Gloria raised an eyebrow, now staring at me with an intense curiosity which put me on edge. “Does King Malstrom have a personal molder, by any chance?”
Gloria frowned. “Is this some kind of a test, my queen?”
“No? Does he have one or not?”
“He does...” she trailed off, “but of course, he uses the male molders. Their talents are quite specific, I am afraid.”
“Specific? In what ways?”
“They all adhere to a school of practice that specializes in...heavier alterations.” She reached out and touched my cheek with one of her fingers. “By the gods, you already have such an uncanny resemblance to her...it's no wonder the king has such a...fixation on you.” She glanced towards the door in the back. “You don't need any heavy work, just a touch-up here and there and afterwards you'll be so beautiful that nobody will care about their silly gods anymore.” She pushed my bangs out of my face gingerly. “Trust me, our talents are much more suited for those that require a delicate, feminine touch.”
“Best you stay away from them," Lydia whispered, "the men are all mad.” She glanced back nervously, towards a side door framed on either side by painted portraits of men with cleft chins and chiseled jaws. “Alcalai, their leader, forces everyone in the guild to mold themselves to wear the exact same ugly face. Says that individuality is a burden, and vanity is a sin. Oh, how I would fancy slapping that grotesque face right off his – .”
“Lydia, be quiet.” Gloria was standing closer to me, her stare unblinking, and now I was starting to feel uncomfortable. “So, shall I get Lady Luria?”
I took a step back. “Perhaps later. But I really would like to talk to Malstrom's molder first.”
“Fine.” Gloria snapped her gaze onto her sister, visibly upset. I could tell that I had offended her, but I had a plan, and I couldn't let the ego of some mage stand in the way of my mission. “You heard the queen, sister. Go fetch Brother Alcalai, now.”
Lydia opened her mouth to speak in protest, but then decided better of it and rushed away through the side door, leaving me alone with Gloria.
A minute ago she had been sulking, but as soon as her sister disappeared her eyes brightened again. “You seem a sensible woman, Jillian. After you speak with Brother Alcalai, do not hesitate to return to us for our services. And we can do more than mold too, you know. Many of us are multi-talented.”
“Yeah?” I raised an eyebrow. “What else can you do?”
She smiled. “Oh, where to begin? Lady Luria is a skilled illusionist, my sister dabbles in the art of pyromancy, and me, I fancy myself an alchemist.” I realized as that as she spoke she had started inching closer to me again, so I took step away. Clearly, we had different definitions of the appropriate conversing distance. “My specialty is a very valuable little potion named Praeterisium. Do you know what that is?”
“I don't have the faintest idea.”
“It's a valuable psychedelic. The same one priests use to conduct the Trial of the Mind during wedding ceremonies.” She reached out a touched my wrist again. “Taking it with the right partner can make for quite the intimate experience.”
I pulled my wrist away from her for the second time. “You weren't by any chance making your drugs for Father Caollin, were you?”
“So what if I was?” Her laughter was soft and tinkled like a wind chime. “Once the doors of this church close, even the most austere of priests find themselves practicing hedonism.”
“I don't think his purpose was recreational.” I crossed my arms. “Are you aware he was using it to drug those he wanted to interrogate?”
Gloria's eyes widened, and she held a hand to her mouth. “Surely not! Maximus was ever so pleasant with us. He would never –”
“You can drop the act. Everyone here knows that Father Caollin wasn't exactly a saint.”
She nodded. “He used it on you then?”
“He did,” I said, and my voice wavered slightly. “Made me re-live a child-hood memory of him drowning.”
“Well that does not sound like much fun.” She turned her red lips down into a pout. “The father certainly was an odd one, that much is true, although one can't always control which memories they share.” Her sly smile returned as quickly as it had vanished. “If you were to partake with me, I promise it would make for a much more pleasurable experience.”
“No thanks.” I stared at her. “You know, it seems to me that you were a great asset to Father Caollin. Would you agree?”
She looked confused. “I am not sure I follow.”
“Then allow me to break it down for. Father Caollin is my enemy. You helped him." My voice turned hostile. "By the laws of the transitive property you are my enemy."
"No, your 'transitive property' is mistaken! I would never have--"
"If I were to find out that you were in any way connected to him, or say, spying on me, do you know what would happen to you?”
“What?” The color drained from the pale woman's face. “Please my queen, I do not serve that man! I swear it on my life.”
Strangely, I was getting a perverse satisfaction at watching the woman squirm at my accusations. “I don't believe you, Gloria.”
She fell down to her knees. “He was just one of many that took Praeterisium from me. In truth I was loyal to Queen Isabelle, not him. She brought me to this temple. I learned to make the substance at her request.”
“What did the last queen want with hallucinogens?”
“She was lonely, and preferred to use it when she invited us into her bed. The drug, it amplifies intimate experiences.”
I blinked. “Isabelle preferred women?”
“Man, woman, what does it matter to a soul that feels unloved? She hungered for intimacy, and so we satiated that appetite.” She grabbed at my hand from her spot on the floor, starting to sob now. “But now she is gone. I was the queen's favorite too, and what we shared was special. Being married to that king, it was difficult for her, so terribly difficult.” She looked up at me, her eyes streaked with tears. “I could be your favorite too, if you gave me the chance. I could help. Please.”
Just then the door to the side room burst open, and Lydia bustled out, her skirt swirling around her long legs. “Brother Alcalai will see you now, my queen.”
I was eager to distance myself from the woman slumped on the ground, but before I left, I had an idea and spun back around to face her. “Gloria..."
She looked up at me, puzzled. “My queen?”
“Can you make any other drugs? Besides the mind-linking one?”
She nodded, wiping her eyes, and managed a small smile. “As many as there are stars in the sky.”
“Tell me about them.”
The side door took us down a dim narrow hallway that eventually spilled out into a second antechamber with a number of different doors. A mirror hung from the center of each door, and there was face painted into the center of the each mirror, staring back into the center of the room. It was designed in a way that if you stood before a door, the painted face would cover your own.
“Alcalai's lab is behind that one, she said, pointing to the door to our left, and gave me a grimace. “Alcalai does not like us to linger here, so this is where I leave you. Good luck.”
The girl vanished back into the lobby, leaving me in the dim chamber, staring back at the mirrored-door. The mask painted on the mirror was that of a smiling man, with sandy brown hair and cheerful, friendly blue eyes. I would have called the face attractive...had it not been for a painted swarm of maggots crawling out of a rotting hole in the man's forehead. Underneath it was the inscription,
All Souls Rot
I reached out tentatively towards the door with the knuckles of my right hand, but paused before knocking. If the man behind that door had soldered my husband's face onto Malstrom, then he held a secret that could topple a regime. Extracting the details of that secret from him would take a certain amount of persuasion.
The way I saw, I could try to procure a confession in one of two different ways. Absentmindedly, I reached towards the back of my tunic and wrapped my fingers around the pistol tucked into my belt. The first option involved a lot of yelling and pointing a firearm in his face until he broke down. If I pursued that option, Alcalai would likely report my confrontation to Malstrom the second I left the cathedral. Anticipating this, I could shoot him after his confession, but that would only make the situation messier. Even if I could stomach the thought of committing a cold-blooded murder, I had already been seen here today by multiple witnesses, and would likely be the first suspect in the man's untimely demise. Plus, there were not exactly a lot of other gun owners in Lentempia at the moment besides myself.
No, if I wanted to extract my confession without attracting unwanted attention, I would need to take a much more subtle approach. An approach that involved batting my eyelashes, giggling at jokes that were not particularly funny, sharing stories, and drinking lots and lots of wine. I had never been particularly good at seducing men – though I had witnessed Malcolm weaponize his quick wit and disarming smile to win people over from time to time. Still, if the choice was between flirting with someone or sticking my gat in their face, I was clearly suited for one option over the other, so I would need to borrow a page from my partner's book. I sighed, tucking the gun deeper down into its concealed location and reaching for the smart-phone instead. I gave the screen a tap, then gave the door a knock.
A muffled voice answered from beyond the heavy door. “Yes? Who is there?”
“The queen,” I said, trying to force my voice to sound authoritative. “I'm here to see Alcalai.”
“This is he,” said the voice. “You may enter.” There was moment of silence, and then the lock of the door clicked.
The chamber within was dark, the only natural light coming from a stained glass window high up on the far wall, and it took a second for my eyes to adjust completely to the dim room.
This room at least looked like some type of doctor's office. There was a cot in one corner that was clearly used for patients, and a few small wooden chairs lined up against the wall. On the far side of the room was a long wooden table, with a white sheet draped over the top of it. There was something large and rectangular underneath the sheet, about six feet in length, though I could not guess what its purpose was. A man in a maroon robe stood in front of the table facing me, his face shrouded by a hood pulled down low over his eyes.
“Your grace,” the man said curtly, without moving. I realized he made no gesture to kneel or bow his head. “You sent for me?”
“I did.” I looked at the hooded figure. “I have need of your services.”
“Is that so?” Behind the man were shelves stacked with brightly colored jars filled with liquid. Floating in each looked to be some sort of rubbery mask, though the features of each one were distorted by the liquid's refraction.
The man's demeanor was stiff and cold as he stared at me, so I tried to flash what I imagined was a warm smile. “It's just that the king, he talks so much about how talented you are, and you and I we've never met. I wanted to put a face to a name.”
A tutting sound came from the shadow beneath the hood. “Putting faces to names is a wasted chore down here,” he said, removing his hood. The face that emerged was that of an older man, later forties, with dark salt and pepper hair and a matching goatee. His ears stuck out at odd angles, and the nose was bulbous and crooked. He had a lazy eye pointing in a different direction, the pupil permanently dilated, so that it looked darker than its twin. Unlike the woman molders with their flawless faces, this man was far from attractive, and if Lydia was to be believed, that was a conscious decision.
“It's not the face I care about,” I said, “but the man behind it. You and the king...are you old friends?”
“Not by his standards.” He began to wring his hands nervously. “Take a seat. Now, may I assume your visit concerns the upcoming wedding ceremony?”
“Word carries fast here,” I said, surprised. “Yes, we'll be holding our wedding soon, and it's all very exciting indeed. But overwhelming. I just...” I paused, “Alcalai, I've had a very stressful week. You molders don't have anything to stiff to drink down here, do you?”
“I...yes..of course. Excuse me for a moment. I will find you some wine.” He shuffled out of the room, leaving me alone in his lab.
“Oh, Alcalai?” I called after him, “Bring two glasses.”
As soon as he left, I peered past the door, making sure that he was out of sight and then, then rushed over to his desk. My hands sifted through the contents, moving through empty quill bottles and loose rolls of parchment, looking for anything evidence that could help with my investigation. There was something lumpy in the bottom of the desk. I plucked it out and frowned. At first it just looked like a strip of leather in the shape of an egg, but as I turned it over, I saw a line of laces, yellow with age, and recognized what I was holding. It was an ancient American football. The ball was crumpled and deflated, the leather cracked and peeling, but the laces made its identity unmistakable.
Confused, I stowed the football away, then moved over to the odd table with the long box. I lifted the white sheet up, looking at the crate beneath it. The box was wooden with a metal frame, fastened shut by a thick iron padlock. It was about the size of a coffin, though I had no idea as to its actual purpose. As I moved to examine it from another angle, I noticed something dark oozing out of the corner of the crate, dripping down the side of the table and onto the floor. At first I thought it was blood, but the consistency was too dark and thick.
Just as I was considering reaching out to touch the substance, there was a noise from the hallway. My heart lurched, and I scampered back to my seat just as the door twisted and Alcalai returned, holding a dark crimson bottle of wine and two goblets. The mage unfastened the cork and poured a cup for me, but set the bottle the down on his desk without pouring any into his own cup.
“Oh, you're not going to join me?” I said, trying to sound disappointed.
“I am afraid not, my queen.”
“Why's that?”
“It is nine in the morning.”
“But this is a special occasion, yes? Will you drink to celebrate a royal wedding with me? Please?
He shifted uncomfortably, rustling his robe. “One drink,” he relented. “But that is all.”
“Here we are,” I said, “that's one cup for me, and one cup for my grumpy new friend.” Finished pouring, I looked back up at him. “So you're one of those types, then?” I gave him a teasing smile. “A man of his disciplines?”
He blushed and his gaze fell down to the table. “Yes...well, I must set an examples for my subordinates. After all, I am a the leader of the most prestigious molder's guild in the realm.”
“Yes, very impressive. You men are all so proud of your titles, aren't you? Not a day goes by without Mal mentioning to me that he is a king, almost as if he fears I'll forget.” I reached over and grabbed his hand, examining his fingers. “For such an impressive man, I don't see any rings on this hand though. Tell me Alcalai, does some lucky woman call you her own?”
“No one yet, your grace.”
“What a pity. So then Al – you don't mind if I call you Al, do you? – doesn't it get lonely down here?”
“No, it does not. My first love is my art, and she is all the company I require.” He took a sip of his wine. “Me and the other guild mates, we take pride in our craft. Honest work, this.”
This is going nowhere, I thought.
I retracted my hand, and I as I did so, I threw out my elbow and knocked the bottle of wine down off the desk, where it spilled over the table and onto the carpet. “Oh dear, I am so clumsy!” I said as we both jumped up. “Sorry!”
“It's alright,” he said, bending down to pick up the bottle. “Don't move. I'll take care of this.”
As he rushed over to his cabinets in the back to retrieve a rag, I produced a tiny glass vial from my sleeve and tipped it into the man's drink. Gloria had called the substance Jabber-Mouth, and while the potion was little more than a dose of hyper-concentrated alcohol, she told me it was commonly used by interrogators in order to get tight-lipped interogees to break their silences.
Alcalai dabbed at the crimson stain in the carpet for a couple of minutes, before giving up. “The servants will get the rest,” he said, finally emerging from underneath the desk. He sat back across from me, and took a sip of his wine, and I tried my best not to act too interested in the swig he was taking. He set the goblet down and made a face, and my heart skipped a beat. For a moment I was sure he knew that I had spiked his drink.
Then he took another swig, grimaced again, and looked back up at me. “Stiff as a board, this batch. Don't blame you for spilling this poison.” He chuckled to himself. “Anyways, what were talking about?”
Feeling relieved, I rested my chin on my hands, and smiled back at him “Well, I'd love to hear a little bit more about your job down here. Exactly how does one get into the molding profession?”
“It is an art, not a profession, and we are chosen by the gods.” He paused, shifting his eyes towards the door. “If you must know, when I was a boy, I got in a quarrel with my older brother and that was when I first realized the potential of my gift.” A faint smile appeared on his face as he recalled the memory. “He was a bully you see, and one day he came home and found me playing with one of his toys, so he struck me in the face. My eye was swollen shut for almost a week, and the other children all laughed at my misfortune, calling me weak. That was their mistake. Even then I had some control over my gift...I could change the colors of flowers with a touch, make blades of glass wilt and die, small things like that. After that fight, I started experimenting on living things too. Bugs, frogs, squirrels, anything I could catch in the woods behind our little house, hours spent, warping the fabric of matter with my fingertips. Then the next time my brother hit me, I hit him back. But this time, as I struck him, I called upon my powers.” Another swig of wine. “He screamed like an animal...gods, I'll never forget that sound. When he turned back to me, I saw that I had warped half his face. His eyes were different sizes, mouth lopsided, nose twisted in on itself.” He snickered. “An abstract painting come to life. My very first masterpiece.”
“Was he okay?”
Alcalai smiled in a way that made the hairs stand up on the back of my neck. “Oh, he lived. He never bothered me again after that. And the woman never bothered him with their favor. I went off to join a mages guild while he stayed home with my family and became the ugliest town drunk in the history of Lentempia.”
“You never fixed his face after your fight?”
“Why would I do that? He sinned and was punished accordingly. That new face was one he had earned for his transgressions against me.”
“But he was your brother.”
“So what?” He took another gulp of wine. “The gods have a twisted sense of humor. They gave me the power to shape my face to anything I want, but they also gave me a bad eye that doesn't look straight. No matter how many times I change my face, I'll always be shaping it around my shame, and that's all anyone will ever notice.” Suddenly he was very angry, and he slammed his fist on the table. “I did nothing wrong! Why should I be punished, while my brother is not? He is the sinner, not me!”
“Okay, okay. Good point. You're right.”
Alcalai was drinking more heavily now. “People are close minded,” he said. “Everyone assumes that the art of molding should be used to make people more beautiful, but that's just a small fraction of its potential.” His voice dropped. “You can also use it punish your enemies. Molders make for excellent interrogators, you know. Father Caollin had a few reservations with my proposed methods, but I always found the king to be the more forward thinking of two.” He refilled his goblet of wine. “Wouldn't you agree, your grace?”
“Torturing people with face melting. Interesting idea. I'll bring it up with him the next time I see him.”
“You should not be so dis...dismissive,” he slurred. “I'd be a much more effective royal interrogator than that giant oaf Drexel that holds the post now. Why the king rewards barbaric simpletons with such esteemed posts...it eludes reason. After all I've done after him...everything he has: his crown, his armies, his kingdom, he has it all because of me. Not Drexel. Me.”
“I could speak to him about it,” I said, pausing. “I can be very...persuasive when I want to be.”
He smiled. “I'd appreciate that very much, my queen. Yes, it makes perfect sense, when you think about. To have the most capable people given the most prestigious posts.”
“Absolutely.” I reached over and touched his arm. “You do exaggerate a bit though. To say the king owes his crown to you, that's quite a bold claim.”
He shook his head vigorously. “It is no exaggeration. It was my talent that made him a king. When I was finished with him, they said I had performed a miracle. Now, a miracle, I wouldn't go that far, but I did make a king, a king stronger and more capable than the last.”
“You swapped his face,” I said, taking a sip of my wine. “Molded him.”
“Damn right I molded him," he bragged, and slammed his fist down on the table. “I was the only one he trusted too. None of the other molders were even allowed to help. Malstrom didn't trust them. It was me and me alone that molded the face of our kingdom. That should be worth a bit of recognition, yes?”
“Oh, without a doubt.” Keep talking, idiot. “Your craft is so good that I can't even tell he's an imposter.”
“What?” Alcalai scratched his head. “You shouldn't use that word."
"Imposter?"
"He hates that word, feels it misrepresents him. No, changing your face doesn't make you an imposter. The gods make mistakes, just like us mortals, and it is our duty to mold to correct those mistakes and achieve our righteous form. Malstrom's new identity is his truth. In many ways, his new face is more true than yours or mine.”
“That may be,” I said, biting my lip. Did I dare keep pressing my luck? The man didn't seem bothered my questions, so I pried a bit further. “So what happened to the original?”
He looked confused. “The original?”
“You know...the old king?” Still nothing. “The man whose face the king is wearing?”
A look of comprehension dawned on him. “You mean the first?”
“Yeah, sure.”
He frowned. “Well he's dead, of course.”
My breath caught and my stomach tightened. “Dead?
“Aye.” He took another sip of his wine, then held the goblet out for me. “He lives on in our new king, does he not? Malstrom does him proud, yes, he does indeed.”
“I...” it felt like the walls of the room were closing in on me, and now my head was starting to spin.
“A toast to him,” he said, raising his glass, and I met it feebly, still focusing on controlling my breath. “Are you sure you're feeling well, your grace? You look pale.”
“Yes, I'm fine.” My voice was trembling, and I swallowed hard to clear my throat. “The original. How did he die?”
Alcalai shrugged. “If you're asking for my theory, I say suicide, but you'd have better luck asking someone upstairs. They love those types of questions.”
“And the first one consented to...you know...to you making a copy of him?”
“He wasn't exactly around, but I'm sure he would have given us his blessing.” He took a gulp from his goblet. “I did him justice, too. Made a damn good replication, if you don't mind me boasting. Molding is tenfold harder when you don't have a living subject to use as a model. All I had to work with were those frozen pictures on that damn Holy Tablet of his. Easier than using a painting, I'll give you that...but still, so much harder.” He shook his head. “Fortunately, there is no molder in this world more skilled than me.”
“Wait.” I struggled to parse the new information. “So you're telling me you never even met the original? You just used pictures from his cell pho – I mean Holy Tablet to mold the king?”
Again, he gave me a blank stare. “But of course.”
“Then how do you know he's dead? What if he's still alive?”
“Alive? Him?” Alcalai frowned. “That's an interesting thought. Are you sure you're feeling alright? This wine is quite strong, I'm afraid.”
“Yes, that must be it.” I sprang up from my seat. “God it's warm in here. I can feel the wine going straight to my head. Excuse me, I need to get some air.”
“My queen – ” he called, as I rushed out of the room. I bolted down the hallway, back into the empty antechamber, panting. Once I was sure I was alone, I slipped Malcolm's cell phone out of my tunic, and pressed the red stop recording button on the screen.
My real husband might be dead, but now I had a recorded confession that Malstrom was an impostor.
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2018.06.06 10:56 thegeneralg My Ex-Girlfriend Isn't Taking The Breakup Well Part 13/Final!

Hey guys here it is, the final update. First of all, a massive THANK YOU! to you all for reading along and taking this journey with me. I never expected it but I am thrilled to have undertaken it. I also have a bit of bonus material that I will incorporate into the story WHEN (fingers crossed) I turn the series into a book. I am also strongly considering making the college Vince works at into a shared universe, with featuring at other professors, staff members, or students at the University. Let me know what you guys think. Anyways, wthout further ado, here it is, hope you all enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it! -G
As we drove back towards our hotel we sat there in silence. I mean really, what do you say to revelations like those? Looking at myself in the rearview mirror, I looked ok. A bit tired perhaps, but ok nonetheless. Chloe on the other hand was slumped down low in her chair, repeatedly twirling a strand of hair around her finger. But out of nowhere she bolted upright in her seat.
“Keep going straight down this road until you reach the Goodwill.”
I did as she asked and when we arrived at the Goodwill she told me to take a right, the road which led down a backroad patterned with potholes. The road wound up around a thick cluster of spruce trees before straightening out and we arrived at a neat row of houses. Looking around, I had an idea why we were here. This wasn’t some cluster of McMansions freshly built for the newly rich. No, these were old houses for the crème de le crème of Maple Bluffs. Driving slowly down the street, I wasn’t sure which houses were occupied and which ones were empty. Or perhaps they all were empty. Either way, I felt like I was an intruder in the neighborhood and I didn’t like it. Carefully eyeing the windows, I half expected the blinds in one of the houses to suddenly shoot up and see someone leering at us. But that didn’t happen. I got halfway down the street before Chloe spoke.
“That used to be her house,” she pointed to a neat grey colonial house with Greek columns on either side of the front door. “My family used to live right there,” she added while indicating the house to the right. It was a neat red Victorian with ivy steadily winding its way up the front porch. I hovered there for five minutes before putting the car in park.
“Do you want to go inside?” I asked.
“No believe me, I’ve spent quite enough time in either of them already. I thought seeing this again would make me think you know? Recall something I had forgotten.”
“Did it work?”
“Sort of. I remembered how many antiques they used to have. But what really came flooding back to me is the smell. Their house always smelled amazing because of all the flowers Mrs. Dunbar kept in the house. She loved gardening and used to keep a little greenhouse in the back for all her best flowers. I remember Allison’s favorite was some red flower I never knew the name of. But if I saw it today, I would probably recognize it.”
“Interesting. Was she any good at it?”
“Very. She won a bunch of awards and even scored second place one year at the state fair.”
“Second place huh? Bet she hated that.”
“You bet she did. She always said that the reason she came in second was because the woman who won first slept with the judges.”
“Charming.” “I know. You can get us out of here now.”
“Cool,” I put the car back in drive and headed back the way we came. I needed some lunch.
We stopped at the local Pizza Hut for lunch. I was grateful for our quick service. Over the pepperoni and green pepper pizza we split, Chloe was very subdued and didn’t say much. I could tell she was still stuck on what Mrs. Hanson had told her. I had been in her situation before. Finding out that events from your past were a series of lies agreed upon by those around you is a dreadful thing to swallow. It reduces you to micro analyzing every little detail you can remember, slowly driving you crazy in the process. Finding out what happened in Allison’s past in no way effected my childhood memories. But for Chloe, those were things that literally happened in her own backyard. Finding out something like that makes you question what you think is reality. What happened to Allison was in no way her fault, but guilt can be a curious thing. It happens often that those who blame themselves don’t deserve it and those who should blame themselves absolutely refuse to.
“It’s not your fault you know,”
“What’s not my fault?” she asked after taking a sip of her drink.
“Allison. Whatever happened to her here is in no way your fault and there is nothing you could have done to change it.”
“Thanks. Was it that obvious?”
“To someone else probably not. But to me yes. I’ve been there before briefly.”
“You have indeed.”
“I also feel compelled to add professionally how often significant historical events are the result of accidents. Or a series of accidents.”
“Oh yeah like how? Give me an example professor.” She was back to her old self now. Her posture in the chair was much more relaxed and firm. Studying how people sit in a chair happens after years of experience teaching in a classroom.
“JFK had a history of back problems. He would sometimes wear a back brace for certain events like campaigning. On November 22, 1963 he was wearing one while riding through a motorcade in Dallas. He was shot twice; once in the lower neck and once in the head. Since he was wearing the back brace, he didn’t automatically go down after being hit in the neck and was kept upright for the headshot. Since it was ruled that the neck wound wasn’t fatal, his back brace arguably killed him.”
“Wow, that is crazy to think,” she agreed after taking another bite of her pizza slice.
“But my personal favorite is this one. While in Florida right before taking office, some crazy tried to kill FDR while he was shaking hands with the Mayor of Chicago. Some woman there saw what was going down and whacked his arm with her purse. The dude’s aim got all fucked up and he hit the Mayor instead. If she had hit FDR, the entire 20th Century would have been different. Just ask Phillip K. Dick.”
“Who?"
“Author who wrote an entire book based on the premise. FDR dying early is the one historical event he altered that set off a chain of events which lead to a Nazi victory during World War II. They recently made it into an Amazon series.”
“Was it any good?” “
Yeah it was actually. I really enjoyed it.”
“Good. That’s a fascinating idea, but it doesn’t surprise me. People love to endlessly recreate what happened and wonder what if they did this or that regarding their own history, so it’s not surprising they would do the same thing to human history.”
“That is very true.”
“Thanks Vince, I feel much better now,” she added gratefully.
“Good.”
We finished most of the pizza and went back to the hotel after that. When I got back to my room, I promptly turned on the TV and crashed on the bed, where I slept fitfully for a couple hours. Waking up, I slowly became reacquainted with my surroundings and realized how thirsty I was. But that wasn’t a real shocker. Takeout pizza usually makes you thirsty, especially if you get something like pepperoni on it, which contains a lot of salt. I grabbed an upside-down glass from its spot on my table next to the ice bucket and walked into the bathroom. As soon as I filled it under the tap, I quickly downed it in a series of gulps. It may have been lukewarm, but it tasted amazing to me. I topped it off again and after emptying it this time I was satisfied. My thirst having been quenched, I relaxed on the bed for a while longer before deciding to treat myself. There is nothing quite like ordering room service in a hotel. Since this was technically a vacation, I decided to get room service and a pay per view movie. I exited my room and walked next door. I announced my presence by knocking on Chloe’s door.
“Hey, I’m gonna get some room service and order a movie. Want to join me?” I didn’t get an answer, but the door swung open to reveal a haze of shower humidity. Like most hotels, here the rooms all seemed to have the bathroom right next to the front door. On the other side of the doorway, Chloe greeted me in a white terrycloth bathrobe while driving her hair with a matching towel.
“I’d like that, just give me one sec and I’ll figure out what I want to eat ok?”
“Sure.” Walking back to my room, I faintly realized that apart from the bathrobe, she was probably completely naked. Shoving that thought aside, I left the door slightly ajar for Chloe and I began flipping through the pay per view selections to see what to watch. I decided on No Country For Old Men, which was based on a book I really loved. Not to mention I enjoy most movies by the Coen Brothers. She came by not long after that, dressed comfortably in a white tank top and shorts.
“Can I see the menu?” she asked before jumping up on my bed, settling right next to me. “Sure,” I handed her the black binder. “You mind if we watch this movie?”
“No, it’s fine.” She briefly looked up from browsing the menu to glance at the TV.
“What are you getting?”
“The crispy chicken sandwich and fries.”
“Cool. I’ll take the house salad.”
After ordering the food and pressing play, I settled back against the headboard. Chloe crossed her legs Indian style and put a pillow on top of her lap, resting her elbows on top of it. About 30 minutes later, the food arrived as had been advertised. I always appreciate when food is prepared on time, so I made sure to give the hotel guy a decent tip. I rarely ever eat food in bed, so this was unusual for me. Like most room service, the food was decent, but considerably overpriced. But that’s the price of convenience.
“What’s it like being back?” I asked Chloe after we had eaten and were back to relaxing on the bed. She paused, resting her hand underneath her chin.
“I wouldn’t say it’s good. Even if this place was filled with good memories, your home is never just good.
“Right.”
“But we have learned a lot being here.”
“Can’t argue with that.”
We didn’t say anything else for the rest of the movie. Towards the end, I noticed her getting a bit sleepy before she quietly laid down next to me and went to sleep. It was rather endearing. I channel surfed through some bad television for a while before I switched it off, quietly crept off the bed and went to the bathroom. I brushed my teeth and got changed for bed. Opening the bathroom door quietly, I saw I hadn’t disturbed her. Good. With a flick of a light switch, the room went completely dark. I let my eyes adjust to it before I crawled back into bed beside Chloe. Because of the long nap earlier, I figured it would take a while to get to sleep this time. Starring up at the ceiling, I heard the air conditioner under the window churning away, making the heavy window drapes shimmer faintly back and forth. Like most people, I never open the curtains while staying in a hotel room. Unless you have a fantastic view or something, it just feels weird you know? Turning over, I made sure to pick up the sheets to cover Chloe up a bit so she would be comfortable. Not gonna lie, it felt good having her here. It felt like I wasn’t alone in some bland hotel room in a place I didn’t know. Eventually, I felt myself begin to drift back and forth into sleep.
The next thing I knew, I was awake in a room that was slightly less dark than it had been earlier. Rolling over to look at the alarm clock on the bedside table, I saw 8:42 in large red numbers. On the other side of the bed where Chloe had been, there was a note written left on the pillow. “Hey sleepy, I went next door to shower and get dressed. I’ll meet you back here and we can go down to breakfast together.” It was written in black pen on a piece of paper from the pad kept on the TV stand. I hopped in the shower quickly and got dressed in grey jeans and a red button up. Unless I am really tired or something, I don’t really like to linger in the shower forever like some people. I was just grabbing my wallet when there was a gentle knock at the door.
“Hey if you’re the hot chick I hooked up with last night I told you already, I won’t be your sugar daddy.”
“Very funny,” I could practically hear Chloe rolling her eyes from the other side of the door.
“I thought it was,” I replied as I stepped into the hotel hallway, the artificial light emanating from the wall fixtures greeting me as I did. While Chloe always looked great, she looked especially good this morning; her aquamarine t-shirt and tight black yoga plants stood out in stark contrast to the blandly patterned carpet and off-white walls.
“Ready to head downstairs?”
“Sure,” I made sure I had my room key and shut the door behind me. As walked together to the elevator, Chloe’s flip flops announced her every step.
“Did you sleep well?” I asked after stepping inside the small carpeted elevator.
“I did actually. You?”
“Not bad. Better than the first night.”
“Me too. Wonder why that was.” She winked at me cheekily.
“Yeah that is a mystery. You hogged all the blankets so that made it way harder to sleep.”
“Lies, and I’m amazed I could sleep with you snoring like a hibernating bear with sleep apnea.”
“Now who’s lying.”
By now the elevator dropped us off on the first floor. The lobby’s sitting room where the continental breakfast was being held was pleasantly quiet with few people there. I grabbed some scrambled eggs and French toast, while Chloe helped herself to pancakes and hash browns. I was surprisingly hungry and in what seemed like no time at all, we were finished and heading back upstairs in the elevator.
“Checkout time is at 11, so we have about two hours to kill. Anything you want to do,” that was all I could get out before Chloe’s lips were on mine. I could faintly taste the maple syrup from breakfast. I stumbled back slightly in surprise, bumping into the rear of the elevator as I did. But Chloe didn’t miss a beat. She just wrapped her arms around my neck in response and nibbled my lower lip. It felt amazing. Last time she kissed me it had been great, but this was different. I felt my arms wrap around her waist and we held that pose for what seemed like a few moments. Before I knew it, she had grabbed my hand and was leading me back to my room. As I fumbled clumsily for the room key in my pocket, she laughed.
“Having a little trouble with the key there bud?”
“Nope I got it,” I dragged the key out and opened the door triumphantly. As I banged it open, I grabbed her hand and led her inside.
“I was wondering if you’d be into this. Been wondering since we checked in. I didn’t want to even consider it unless I was sure you wanted to and were ready for it.”
Her sincerity and concern for my welfare was quite touching. I didn’t say anything, but I smiled at her and grabbed the Do Not Disturb sign from the back of the door and hung it on the front end of the doorknob, the door clicking shut as I was turning back to face her.
“Why?” Is the first thing I said while we were lazily sprawled across the bed. I hadn’t felt this good in a long time and I didn’t hear any complaints from Chloe. Quite the opposite in fact. “Why?” she repeated slowly as she looked sideways at me from her current spot, nestled against my left side. “That was the first thing I kept asking myself about you when we met. Why in the hell would Allison toss a guy like you out like last week’s leftovers? It drove me insane. As I got to know you better, it only got worse. But as I remembered what I knew about her I wasn’t surprised. She could never make anything last, even if it was something worthwhile. She just didn’t have that kind wherewithal. You ask me why, well the simple answer is because I really like you a lot and have thought about this for a long time.
“Awww, that’s so sweet,” I tilted my head down and kissed her forehead.
“It also doesn’t hurt that you are good in bed and have a cute ass,” she muttered after laying her head back under my neck.
“Yeah, well you aren’t exactly slacking in that department either,” I replied while giving her ass a squeeze. We laid there for a while before she said the phrase I was expecting, but still didn’t want to hear.
“Come on, we need to head out.” While we were both in our respective rooms packing up and making sure we had everything, I noticed I had a missed call from Ramsay. His voicemail asked me to call him back as soon as I could.
“Hey Detective, it’s me.”
“Vince, thanks for calling. Got some news for you. I heard back from an old contact of mine and you will love this. The bar Allison operated that her mother owned is being investigated for money laundering. It seems like the place is a front.” “
For what drugs?”
“Yup. Apparently state and the feds have been keeping their eye on the place for a long time. This matches up amazingly with what Mrs. Hanson told you.”
“So what do we do now?”
“Sit tight and see if there is anything else you can think of. You guys have been doing fantastically well.”
“I appreciate that, I just wish I could figure out why the hell that guy looks familiar.” “
You will. You’re a smart guy Vince, I have no doubt you will figure it out.”
“That means a lot to me. We’re on our way back today.”
“Good I’m glad. Did you guys hold up ok out there?”
“Yeah we’re doing ok.” I felt my face grow hot.
“Cool. Drive safe coming back here and see you soon.” I couldn’t help but feel that although he didn’t say a word or even hint at it, Ramsay knew why I had missed his call. If that was true, I was very grateful he didn’t say a word. Chloe came in my room to see if I was ready to check out. I told her I was and repeated what Ramsay told me.
“We’re getting somewhere,” was all she had to say before we rolled our suitcases out of the rooms, down the hallway, and into the elevator. I couldn’t help but smile as I remembered the last time we rode in it. The middle-aged woman at the front desk helped us check out quickly. Before I knew it, she was saying “Thank you for staying with us and have a safe trip.” Tossing our bags in the truck of my car, we piled in the front and headed back onto the highway. When we passed the sign welcoming us to Maple Bluffs, I felt lighter. As I watched it fade away into the distance, I felt a sense of fun come over me. It was a beautiful day out and I was in a great mood, so I rolled the windows down and turned the radio up. Somehow even the trees and grass bordering the highway seemed greener.
“Someone’s in a good mood,” Chloe observed amusedly from the passenger seat after we had been driving for about two hours.
“Hey why shouldn’t I be?” I turned down the radio after a Springsteen song finished.
“This is true.”
We were well back into Illinois by now. That’s the one great thing about trips. The trip home always seems to take less time than the trip arriving at your destination.
“Any preferences for lunch?” I asked after the car radio inched towards 1pm.
“No, I’ll let you pick.”
“Good deal. Anything you’re allergic to or just won’t eat?” “I don’t do shellfish. Something about the way they look just bothers me.”
“I feel you. Live lobsters look downright creepy. Like spiders.”
“That’s part of it. But I do eat fish and stuff.”
“Mrs. Arlington will like that, it means you can join us at Red Lobster. It’s her favorite.”
“She’s such a sweetheart. Does she have any family around here?”
“Unfortunately, no she doesn’t. Her husbad passed a while ago and her stepson from him is a real piece of shit.”
“That’s a shame”
“It really is. Dude is a lowlife.”
“You know him?”
"I never met him, but I’ve heard all about him. You will find this funny. He was the relative that always looked awkward as hell in family photos. In one Christmas photo it looks like he was being held for ransom. The only thing that was missing was the newspaper with the current date on it.” “That’s hilarious.”
“It was good. I think I still have that somewhere. Mrs. Arlington emailed me a bunch of pictures a year ago, wanting to know which ones looked good enough to keep in a scrapbook or something. I’ll see if I can find it when we stop to eat.”
We stopped at a 5 Guys for lunch. Since I was in a good mood I decided to indulge in a chocolate milkshake. I even shared the silver mixing container with the leftover ice cream with Chloe. While we were waiting for the bill, I went through my email to see if I could find the picture I mentioned to her. I was about four pictures through the slide show when it felt like the milkshake had just turned to ice in my veins. I had finally realized why that one guy Ramsay showed me looked so familiar. There he was, looking right back at me several years younger with a full head of hair while sitting next to Mrs. Arlington in her old house.
Ramsay was absolutely floored when I told him. He told me in no uncertain terms that he would take it from here and would contact Mrs. Arlington himself. I felt like an eternity had passed since this morning. The rest of the drive home passed in a rush. I was dashing past exits as quickly as I could. Finally, the exit to get off by my duplex came up and I was roaring down the street. Squealing to a halt in front of my house, I flung open the car door and rushed to Mrs. Arlington’s door. I had barely started knocking when it opened. Sharon Arlington had always looked and acted younger than she was. Today was the first time I can honestly say she seemed older to me. While I had always felt bad on her behalf about the Morgan situation, that sympathy had just reached a new level.
“I’m sorry just doesn’t seem to cut it about Morgan anymore.” I murmured to her as I gave her a hug.
“Oh Vince, it’s not your fault.” She sounded so exhausted as she spoke. “If anything, I should say that to you. There is no telling what Morgan had to do with Allison.”
“We’ll find out soon,” “Sad thing is. I knew something like this would happen. I KNEW that one day I would get the call.”
Chloe walked up to Mrs. Arlington and gave her a hug as well. Once we were inside her kitchen, she offered us coffee and said she had given Ramsay all of Morgan’s personally identifiable info and he was putting out a search for him.
“They’ll find him. I just know it,” she repeated to herself more than the two of us.
As we left Mrs. Arlington’s, I stopped Chloe.
"You don’t really want to go back to a hotel having already left one today do you?”
“Eh I don’t mind, I’m used to it.”
“Well I do. You said yourself you slept better in my room. How about you stay here for a while?”
“You really mean that?” she asked hopefully.
“Absolutely. I’d like that a lot. I have plenty of room and could use the company.”
“I would like that lot too.” She made herself right at home and in no time at all, it felt like she had always been there.
As it happened Mrs. Arlington was right. They found Morgan about four days later. He was driving erratically through southern Wisconsin; 79 in a 55 zone. I couldn’t help but laugh at that. After all this time and all the serious stuff involved, it all came down to a speeding ticket. Ramsay called Mrs. Arlington and myself separately to inform us, I got the message at 5:15 am on a warm Sunday; Morgan was being read his Miranda rights and was cooperating with the cops. The entire time I had to wait to find out he saying I felt like I was about to go crazy. In the meantime, Chloe and I went out and did normal things. I found out that she loved to people watch at the mall, browse through bookstores, and had been thinking about getting a tattoo. A smaller one, perhaps between her shoulder blades or on her foot. It took an entire week and I was beginning to get Morgan off my mind when I got a text from Ramsay.
“Turn on the news. You’ll know it when you find it.” That was all he said. Switching the TV on, it didn’t take me long before I knew what he meant.
Somewhere in Missouri way west of here, the DEA and other feds had staged a major raid on some compound. The news anchor was showing the picture of the woman who owned the property. Even if they had not said her name, I would have known who it was. Mrs. Clara Dunbar. She looked eerily like her daughter, except for the eyes. The woman on the TV had massive eyes that looked like they could consume you at any moment. I called to Chloe, telling her to come see. She walked into the room nonchalantly and immediately froze when she saw the TV screen, her jaw suspended in disbelief. Cameras from helicopters and news vans were swarming the property. According to the news it was on 15 acres and contained four trailers and two barns, with drug paraphernalia found in every single one. A fleet of black SUV’s were also parked inside one of the barns. The main house itself was quite nice looking; a large red brick house with a double door entryway.
Three days later Ramsay came by to talk to all three of us at the same time. I could tell by his tone of voice he had something big. Morgan had apparently spilled a lot of dirt and was giving names of all the people he knew that got wrapped up in Allison’s situation. In turn, they were all chomping at the bit to turn on each other. No honor amongst thieves indeed.
“Alright guys so here it is. I will tell you everything I can remember and if you have any questions ask me when I’m done ok?” Sitting in my living room, we all said ok and Ramsay began to talk.
Mrs. Dunbar was a heroin trafficker. One of the bigger ones in the Midwest. Morgan had stumbled into her operation by chance, doing a favor for a local guy he owed one to. The bar Allison worked at was just one of the fronts her mother had operated over the years. The newspaper and meatpacking plant Chloe had mentioned were part of it. The newspaper was especially handy because it gave her an eye and ear on all local news and sources. The meat plant was used to harvest and ship the product. But it also came in handy for squaring lose ends because people expect to find blood in a meatpacking plant, don’t they? Speaking of lose ends, one of the people Morgan gave up knew what happened to Jerry Dunbar. When he went out of town like Mrs. Arlington mentioned, he was following his wife when he was driving past a gorge. Well, a deer happened to leap into the road at the worst moment and Jerry hit it and went off the road and down the embankment. He was killed instantly and they never reported it. I felt bad for the guy across the board, but part of me felt he deserved a more suitable end. Like he died in the middle of defending himself you know? But Allison’s fate was the most fucked up of all. Morgan and the others from his crew had been bringing her stuffed toys to and from the hospital as a cover for moving drugs. They were brought to the hospital empty and without suspicion, left for a little while, and then taken back out by various clients or associates of Mrs. Dunbar. What better place to get access to top notch painkillers and opiates than a hospital? In the meantime, Ramsay and his colleagues had the one stuffed toy left in Allison’s apartment checked and it tested positive for drug residue.
Allison was a perfect front for this. Because if she acted odd or paranoid, that was just a side effect of her condition. Which was where Daniel Millstone came in. All he had to do was stash the goods into Allison’s stuffed toys and leave it. Mrs. Dunbar gave the people Millstone worked for a cut of the action and presto, instant access to really strong stuff. But Millstone began to feel guilty and drank heavily to suffocate his conscious. One night, he got really drunk and wound up dead. They were furious when he died, just like they were furious when Allison did herself in too. No foul play there either. No point in killing off your prized asset now is there? But hey, they call them painkillers for a reason. Ramsay says that Mrs. Dunbar was beside herself at Allison’s death, but I tend to think that she was more upset over the lost arrangement. Her daughter truly did lose her mind. But like many people in this day and age, she lost her sanity with help. Then people around her promptly wasted no time whatsoever in using her mental state to their advantage.
However, even a broken clock is right twice a day. It seems Allison felt horrible about what she had gotten into and that she killed someone. Since paranoia is quite common in someone with either mental and substance issues she had been getting extremely paranoid, so unbeknownst to anyone, she had put a cam in her apartment. Slowly, she had wanted to get out of being under her mother’s thumb and when that guy got rough she lost it. Before she officially went off the deep end, she gathered up the video footage of what happened and stashed it in the last place anyone would ever look; my house. Ramsay also says that because no one has said a word about threatening me, the note with the hangman and the name Daniel may have been a reference to someone else, as another Daniel was amongst the guys trying to cut a deal to testify against Mrs. Dunbar. Later, we found out that Allison herself had sent it, but it had gotten lost in the mail and was delayed in sending because of the horrible handwriting. It’s ironic really. It took Allison dying in a horrible manner plus her mother getting busted to finally give her what she truly wanted; massive sympathy and attention. The headlines started flying almost immediately.
“Heroin heiress used beautiful daughter as a drug mule!” screamed one.
“Mother from hell stashed drugs in daughter’s hospital room,” another one righteously condemned. Mrs. Dunbar’s house was already known as the Painkiller Plantation. I have to admit that it was a clever name.
But the funny thing that if Allison had been alive for all this, people would have turned on her with just as much fury. I can practically see it now; they would call her the Painkiller Princess or something. She would be ready made for TV. The pundits would have a field day pouring over every detail of her life, how she looked when being arraigned. Her mugshot would go viral like one of those so called hot felons and at every arraignment there would an army of thirsty men with misspelled signs on cheap poster board proclaiming their love for her. In terms of criminals who get marriage proposals, Allison would put Casey Anthony, Manson, and every other felon with admirers to shame. Entire websites dedicated to her would spread like wildfire. I can even imagine Penthouse or Hustler offering Allison money to take it all off. Since she would be in dire need of cash like her mother currently is, odds are she would accept the offer. I bet it would be their biggest selling issue ever. The campus registrar recently sent me an email informing me that all my classes for the coming semester all booked up already. They said they have never seen anything like it. I have also been offered the opportunity to write a book on Allison based on my experiences. Not that I accepted it or anything, but it’s nice to know people are interested. Maybe one day.
One night after some more of the Dunbar family baggage was being aired, Chloe asked me something I wasn’t expecting.
“When people ask how we met and started dating, what are we gonna say?” Now I had thought of that myself and could never come up with an answer. But out of nowhere, I finally thought of something.
“We’ll just tell them we met through a mutual friend.”


Update 5/2021: The series has now made it into book form, which you can find here. The book version has been updated to include some never before seen material from the story.
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2018.04.26 01:21 vividsimplicity Wedding Recap - Texas Hill Country Vineyard - 3.24.18

I’m stuck in a hotel for work tonight, so it’s recap time! First off, the goods.
We had SUCH a great day. We planned the whole thing ourselves, tried to keep DIY very doable (we made all the paper goods, did our own flowers, did some very light crafting, and had my dad make our arch and some cider). We also did a few fun pre-wedding events that I’ll list in case anyone is looking for more ways to entertain people! Details and budget breakdown below. Head’s up…I’m a wordy writer.
Thursday: BBQ for all our family who travelled in for the weekend (his family is all out of state) -Venue - $0 - My parent’s backyards -Food - $370-ish - Franklin BBQ…had to serve up some BBQ for everyone visiting Texas! They have a call ahead option so that you don’t have to stand in line for hours (even though it is really fun!), so we took advantage of this. BBQ, sides and sauces for 20 people -Drinks - $0-ish – My parents always have a ton of beer on hand, plus we gave people the option to BYOB This turned in to a really fun night! It was a nice way to see some of the people who travelled in for the wedding in a more relaxed atmosphere and everyone really enjoyed a more casual dinner and setting!
Friday: Rehearsal Dinner -Venue - $500 rental fee + $4,000-ish in food - Second Bar and Kitchen (2nd and Congress location). Listen, guys. Second Bar and Kitchen has some pretty good food and their second floor patio is private and overlooks 2nd street, which is cool and all, but they were AWFUL to work with. They lost our reservation even though we had put down a deposit, we had the hardest time getting in contact with anyone, and nothing was set up or cleaned when my MIL and GMIL went to decorate earlier in the day. A. Mess.
After the dinner, we had an informal meet up at the Driskill Hotel (very old, VERY Texas hotel, so we thought it would be a fun place for visitors to see), which we invited all out of town guests to. They were super nice and reserved a section for us, which was good because we had about 40 people show up! Everyone purchased their own drinks ($10-$12 per drink), which they were fine with.
Saturday: Wedding -Venue - $5,670 after tax - Spicewood Vineyards in Spicewood, TX (50 min west of downtown Austin). LOVED our venue. 1) Wine, 2) Out in the country so no road/people noise, 3) Pretty and can be dressed up or down easily, 4) Good rain plan, which is important in Austin in March, 5) Lauren, their day-of coordinator, kicks ass. She answered questions within a few days, gave good insight in to selections/timeline, and made sure that our day ran really smoothly. One thing to note – the vineyard tasting room is open to the public until 6pm, which was exactly when our ceremony started. There were only a couple people left and they were polite and respectful. The venue staff makes an effort to get as many people to leave before the wedding as they can, but they can’t actually just tell people to leave. They also made sure not to let them drive out during our ceremony since it was right near the driveway. -Catering - $3,460 after all fees (90 people) – Pearl Snap Catering. Also super loved them. Their chef/owner used to be the chef at the Clinton Library and specializes in fresh game cooking. We went with their chicken option in the interest of cost, but it was delicious. We had a 6ft fruit and cheese display for cocktail hour, lemon pepper chicken with chimichurri sauce, fresh grilled vegetables and blueberry bourbon glazed sweet potato planks for dinner, and 3 desserts(!!!)…a s’mores bar (included with all of their catering bookings), berries flambe (free since we booked them within 3 days of our tasting) and lots of cake (a 2-tier cutting cake made with one layer of spiced pear pecan cake and one layer of peach, lavender, jalapeno cake, then tres leches, salted caramel dark chocolate, and bacon chocolate cupcakes). They grilled the dinner on site, which made everything smell amazing and taste fresh, and were really accommodating when it came to dietary restrictions. In our bridal party alone we had 2 pescatarians, 1 person who is dairy/gluten intolerant, and 1 nut allergy and everyone was able to eat a full meal without any issues. -Drinks - $1,400 – We purchased 5 different wines from the venue, brought 2 kegs of beer from a local brewery, had my dad make cider, served a few sodas for those who don’t imbibe and served a champagne toast for everyone. We had a minimum to hit for the wine, so we ended up taking several bottles home! Only 3 bottles of cider were left (out of 20, I think) and my dad was able to kill both kegs by the time we got back from out honeymoon 2 weeks later, so I think we ordered pretty well! -Bartenders - $410 – We had to purchase 2 bartenders from the venue to serve all the drinks. They kept everything flowing smoothly and moved the bar from our outdoor cocktail hour to our indoor reception very smoothly. -Dress - $1,192 ($597 for dress and $595 for alterations – My dress was purchased from a bridal store in Austin that is now closed, but it was the WToo Agnessa that I bought as a sample. Divine! Alterations I Round Rock did the alterations and were fabulous. Straps always fit me funny and they worked super hard to get everything right. They are more expensive than other alterations places I’ve worked with, but I think it shows in their work. -Tux - $1500, I think – Capra and Cavelli – Husband wanted a nice tux for his wedding and I have to attend events for work every now and then that he can wear it at, so he went for it! All in all, I really think this was a good deal. I have no idea what brand it was, but it looked way nicer than the rental ones and the department store ones we looked at. This price also includes the cost of a shirt that he got custom made from some store in NY that I also don’t remember. He used his late grandfather’s cummerbund and cufflinks. -Photographer - $2,744 – Katherine O’Brien Photography – She came very highly recommended by a 2 of our friends. We liked the she uses natural colors in her photos (no filters or anything) and is able to shoot on film. This price included a 1-hour engagement shoot, 7 hours on the day of the wedding and a photo book afterward. Full access to all photos. One thing that I’ll mention in case anyone else is reading this and considering hiring her…she’s pretty awkward and quiet. Both sets of couples that recommended her said the same thing. You feel kind of awkward whenever she is taking the photos, but they always come out great. -Shuttle - $864 – Ray’s Limos – We chose a hotel block in downtown Austin so that people could have a tourist weekend in the city, so we provided a 24-person shuttle since the venue was about a 50 min drive. The shuttle arrived 30 minutes before the ceremony and there was originally supposed to be 2 return trips, but basically everyone taking it chose to take the first one so we cancelled the second and asked the few people who were going to stay longer if they were okay just heading back a little early. They only missed an hour and a half of dancing since all of the activities were done already. -DJ – $625 – Rick Giles – He was…fine. Honestly, the DJ wasn’t super important to use so we didn’t want to spend a ton. He did a pretty good job reading the crowd, knew to give our drunk, pushy friend a fake/turned off mic when she insisted on serenading us, and was a really nice guy all around. My only real issue was the he used the wrong song for our first dance. This woulnd’t have been so bad, except that he played Van Morrison’s “Moondance”, which is honestly not dance-in-front-of-your-grandma appropriate and also not the song (“Into the Mystic”) that is really special and important to us. Luckily, we had also planned a last dance song (“You Are the Best Thing”, by Ray LaMontangue) and that turned out to be super magical. Once unexpectedly great, hugely crowd pleasing song that he played was “Summer Nights” from the Grease soundtrack. It turned in to everyone taking turns dancing down a line and everyone singing along! -HaiMakeup - $800 (h/mu for 8 people, plus a trial for me) – Aphrodite Beauty – The owner, Estelle, is in charge of makeup was super nice and accommodating. She usually does stage makeup, so it was a bit heavy but looked great in pictures. She is also very trendy, so we had to talk her off of brown, matte lipstick and some people thought their brows were too dark. HUGE issue with the hair stylist, Ryan, though. For my trial, he smelled like cigarette smoke and complained a bit too much for my liking. I’m super sensitive to bad customer service due to my past jobs, so I tried to brush it off as my oversensitivity since my sister said that she didn’t think it was a big deal. But then, we coulnd’t reach him on the day of the wedding. Estelle had a backup, luckily. But then, she finally reached Ryan so she cancelled the back up. But then, Ryan’s car wasn’t working so he would have to find a ride share. BUT THEN, he still ended up being 2 hours late even though the venue was only a 45 min drive from his house and there was no traffic on the route. BUT. THEN. It finally comes out that his birthday was the day before and he was just super hungover and did a bad job of getting a ride. Everything turned out okay. I actually liked my hair, but we had to have bridesmaids pre-curling hair for people and my mom’s hair came out of its style by the end of the night. Don’t go with them if there is any mention whatsoever of Ryan being the hairstylist. -Flowers - $1,705 – HEB – They did my bouquet, 2 large arrangements for the wine barrels at the end of our aisle, and the garland for the arch, plus we ordered about 200 hydrangeas and 40 roses for centerpieces and bridesmaid bouquets. We made our centerpieces super simple since the groomsmen were in charge of putting them together the day of the wedding. I’m lucky in that my husband is very detail and aesthetic oriented and had one friend/groomsman who is an all around great and helpful guy (plus my MIL and AuntIL) because the rest of the groomsmen skipped out to drink beer and play cornhole. Oh well! Turned out fine! -Additional - $2,000 – We purchased all of our table cloths, plates, cups, silverware, etc from a combo of Craigslist, Dollar Tree, and Michaels. Other items include little things we ended up paying for like dry cleaning for the table cloths (I was overly confident when I said I would be able to iron them all), my belt, some extra cutesy decorations. We lucked out and sold most of our basics to our caterers because they are trying to start their own rental business, so we will be getting about half of this back.
Other details: -Bridesmaids wore different styles from Azazie. I gave them a fabric, length and color (Dusty Blue) and let them run with it. -3 of our groomsmen already owned tuxes, so we just had the ones who didn’t rent from Men’s Warehouse. -Old/New/Borrowed/Blue: I wrapped my late paternal grandmothers veil around my bouquet – it was both old and blue. I also pinned my other grandmother’s gloves from her high school graduation under my dress (old). My sister bought me some new perfume to wear so that was my “new”, and I borrowed a pearl ring from my mom to wear.
Sunday: Parent’s Brunch -Venue – Our House – We just had everyone come over the morning after the wedding so that we could say goodbye before leaving for the honeymoon! -Food - $50 – Torchy’s – Breakfast tacos FTW! I think that’s it.
Let me know if there is anything y’all want to know that I missed!
submitted by vividsimplicity to weddingplanning [link] [comments]


2014.04.20 01:30 amdewstow Ladies Against Humanity Pack

Via
White
"The limit does not exist!"

solidarityisforwhitewomen

A $20 bill with Harriet Tubman's face on it
A bill allowing establishments to refuse service to homophobic legislators
A blazing Valentine's Day bonfire torching every moronic column that advises women on how not to end up single on Valentine's Day
A bodice-ripping 4-way with Alexander Skarsgard, lan Somerhalder, and David Boreanaz
A brown smudge equally likely to be period blood or chocolate.
A candlelight vigil for Nicole Brown Simpson
A CNN article touting "A Shocking New Study Shows Women Aren't Treated Equally With Men"
A detailed vajazzling of Van Gogh's Starry Night
A dozen Sprinkles cupcakes smeared on my naked body
A fantasy film that takes place in an alternate reality where, amazingly, everyone is white
A fantasy road trip with Anna Kendrick and Aubrey Plaza with burritos and mixtapes and skinny-dipping under the stars and you all just laugh and laugh
A federal holiday named after a black woman. (Or any woman, for that matter.)
A fun family cook-out grilling leftover dresses at Chez Gaga
A gender neutral, owl-themed baby announcement
A hand-crocheted Diva Cup case from Etsy.com
A heaping dish of real talk served ice cold by Ashley Wagner
A hot, wet, trumpet of a tart when you're nearly sure your partner is out of earshot
A humorless orgy filled with humorless feminists
A joke too funny for women to understand
A late breaking addition to the Opening Ceremony that features the women of Pussy Riot hooking up Putin's nipples and scrotum to high voltage electroshock
A limited edition set of white people white cards about topics such as J. Crew, half-marathons, and the word "articulate" just in time for Black History Month
A middle school style 3-way call about what to wear to the party
A misogynist dystopia set in the not-too distant WAIT A MINUTE
A much needed reminder that, all too often, "beauty standards" = "being white."
A new cookbook by Sylvia Plath
A new law forcing men to buy extra insurance in advance in case they someday need erectile dysfunction meds
A one-on-one tutorial in fabulous from Janet Mock
A one-way ticket to Steubenville
A perfect virginity story including a snowy night, a cozy cabin, and NBC news anchor Brian Williams
A personal style consultation from Lupita Nyong'o
A quickie with Rachel Maddowin the green room
A reissue of Battleship where you have to find the clitoris
A relationship-ending round of "Never Have I Ever"
A second-trimester burrito baby
A sneakediaper drive for your best friend Wendy Davis
A soothing 6-handed massage from McDreamy, McSteamy and Yang after a really tough day at work
A stern and timely pep talk from Miss Tyra
A strongly worded letter to Netflix demanding the addition of "The Good Wife"
A sturdy, resounding slap to the face of Vladimir Putin from the hand of Billie Jean King
A sudsy soak in the prefects bathroom with Cedric Diggory
A tear stained copy of Reviving Ophelia
A thoughtful discussion of music and fashion with Lorde and Tavi over manis and cappuccinos
A torrid sex odyssey with President Fitzgerald Grant
A toxic chemical fire fueled by all the make-up brands that don't make shades for people of color
A vagina mint. A mint for your vagina.
A vibrating Nuva Ring because why Wouldnot that exist
A warm, cuddly hug from Phillip Seymour Hoffman
A white-hot blazing inferno fueled entirely by Pnina Tarnai stunners
Abortion Barbie®
Accidentally making a duck face in the elevator mirror, immediately cringing in shame
Accidentally pooping out the tampon
Adele crooning under your ex's window 24/7 until he understands exactly what he did
Alan Rickman murmuring sweet pillow talk that you can't understand a word of but who cares just keep talking
An 80-year-old woman with her 20-year-old lover
An all-girl orgy comprised entirely of Cumberbitches
An alternate version of the Washington Monument that looks kind of like a vagina
An Auschwitz-themed Olympic debutante party
Arthur Weasley's muggle porn
Asking Gilbert Gottfried to do the lago voice during sex
Asking the waiter who tries to take your half-finished burger away if he's out of his fucking mind
Asking your doctor to define "occasional drinker"
Audra McDonald and ldina Menzel serenading you with the most heartbreaking love song in the history of everything
Awkwardly explaining to your waiter that you're not actually anti-coat hanger
Bandying Vampire Bill about the head and neck until he chooses Laura Benanti like a sane person
Banging Paul Rudd's ugly brother because close enough
Beard burn on your labia
Because sometimes you want three broomsticks
Being brought to tears by an unflattering photo and feeling a fiery mix of self-hatred and rage-filled feminist revolution
Being compared to a Cathy cartoon on Metafilter
Being forced to buy all fan gear in Pink because it's the color of your vagina
Being in a nice restaurant and knowing, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that there is definitely food in your bra
Being polite about Lean In at the office
Being single in winter and not shaving your legs for months
Being soulfully serenaded collectively and individually by The Roots
Being the only woman at the office-mandated sexual harassment training
Being unbelievably attracted to Michael Fassbender even when he's evil to his core
Beyoncé thinkpieces
Beyoncé watching the halftime show on her $40,000 couch just laughing like yeah, sure, whatever
Blue Ivy's weave
Bobby Flay chipping his tooth on a ball gag
Breaking up with your fiancé via a fabulous Sondheim patter song
Buying condoms in your hometown
Calculating the WeightWatchers Points Plus™ in a heaping serving of Donald Rumsfeld's spooge
Calmly informing your date that you understand the infield fly rule better than he does
Celebrating equal pay day by making the same amount of money as a man who does the same job as you. Lol just kidding, you can't have that.
Checking "Other: Lesbianism" on the birth control survey at your gynecologist's office
Chin hairs you pretend you don't have
Choking on the ashes of Gloria Steinem's bras
CJ Cregg laying the smack down on a misogynist fucker then taking you out for mimosas
Compiling all the money we spend on hair removal products to feed all the hungry children forever
Condi and Hillary throwing a power pantsuit fashion show to raise money to help journalists who can't think of better questions to ask women politicians
Congratulating CBS on having the bravery and audacity to pick a white man to host a late night show
Convincing 2 straight guys to make out at a party to impress their girlfriends
Cooper Manning's burn book
Cramming Vladimir Putin full of Activia® until he poops out Russia's homophobia
Crying in the fitting room during bikini season
Daenerys Targaryen's fire-breathing vajayjay
Daenerys Targaryen, Arya Stark and Cersei Lannister combining forces to take down misogyny forever
Deciding that Lupita Nyong'o is the Cinderella you hope your daughter will grow up to be
Declaring that you will abstain from checking OkCupid or Tinder for 24 hours on Valentine's Day but then getting drunk and sad and signing in with much lower standards
Deliberately not shaving your legs to keep yourself from hooking up on an early date
Depriving white men of the right to vote for 150 years and just seeing what happens
Diane Keaton wearing a suit better than any man ever could.
Discovering orgasms at a prettttty young age courtesy of a jacuzzi/hot tub/pool jet
Doing your kegels at work
Donating your breast milk for vegan consumption
Doubling up on sports bras
Douches that smell like rain
Dumbledore's rarely seen club robes
Dumpsters overflowing with whimsical save the-date magnets
Dying your hair red like Angela Chase
Eating the entire bag
Emma Goldman burning the whole motherfucker down
Emma Watson, Emma Stone, EMMA THOMPSONBITCHES
Engagement photos on train tracks
Expensive vibrators shaped like twee woodland creatures
Experimenting with Stacey McGill and Claudia Kishi while the kids sleep in the other room
Explaining to a man that your bisexuality does not exist for his titillation
Expressing the anal glands of Oprah's chow chows
Feeling a little bit smug about Gwyneth Paltrow's divorce
Feeling microaggressive when people won't stop using the word microaggressive
Feeling nauseous and thinking, "0h, great. Is this going to cost me $400?"
Feeling slightly like you are fighting the system when you use the men's restroom at a bar rather than standing in line for the ladies' room
Finally being included in an NFL commercial as a "football fan" instead of "football fan's clueless girlfriend"
Finger banging Michelle Rodriguez
Flicking the bean to Adam Levine's Proactiv® commercial
Force-feeding Sheryl Sandberg the pages of lean In, one by one
Forcing your lover to call you "moon of my life"
Gabby Gifford' physical therapy
Getting a little turned on by the liquid silk voices of the ladies of NPR
Getting a new match notification on Tinder and not having any idea what you were thinking when you swiped right
Getting angry at your crush because of something mean he said during an imaginary conversation
Getting DPed by the Property Brothers on a custom granite countertop
Getting drunk and texting someone you don't really like because it's better than texting no one at all
Getting home from a workout and realizing your pubes were sticking out of your short shorts the whole time
Getting in the football mood by spiking your used tampons into the trash and celebrating afterwards
Getting irrationally angry when you don't think a Facebook status deserves that many likes
Getting topped by Professor Grubbly-Plank
Getting weepy drunk in the daytime and posting quotes from You've Got Mail on the internet
Giving ScarJo's boobs a (consensual) Iii' squeezy-squeeze on the red carpet
Giving up on the game to make out with big Tim Riggins
Going on a mediocre date, then a terrible date, then fooling yourself into thinking the mediocre date was better than it was
Going out to buy super healthy organic groceries then coming home and ordering takeout
Guys who can't get it together to set a date but still find time to like your shit on Face book
Guys who take off their wedding rings before they flirt with you at a bar
Hagrid and Madame Maxime role-play
Having big boobs and wearing horizontal stripes anyway cause FUCK IT
Having unprotected sex to honor the anniversary of Roe v. Wade
Hermione telling you she'd never hurt Ron; it's just that you're so beautiful and she's so confused
High-fiving Sandra Bullock after the best drunk duet of "Oops! I did it again" in the history of karaoke
High-fiving Shonda Rhimes while dancing on the graves of every boss who never bothered to hire a woman or person of color
Hillary bitch-slapping Bill with a frozen tuna
Hiring Buffy Summers to roundhouse kick the woman in your office who doesn't support other women
Holding hands with Ellen Page at the best Tegan & Sara concert ever
Holding your boobs as you go up and down stairs
Hoping maybe he didn't call because he died
Inspirational Dove chocolate wrappers
It gets better(ish).
JLaw creeping Taylor Swift ADORABLY
Joaquin Phoenix as George Michael Bluth and Scarlett Johannsen as Ann Veal in the new Arrested Development movie, "HER?"
Khaleesi bringing her dragons to a board meeting like "sorry, couldn't get daycare!"
Kim Kardashian's placenta banh mi
Kneeing him right in the man business when the fantasy suite turns into a nightmare
Lactating when a stranger's baby cries on the train
ldris Elba whisking you off for a weekend on the Riviera
Leonardo DiCaprio sitting on the sidewalk smoking with "Talkshow Host" playing in the background
LESLIE KNOPE AND MICHELLE OBAMA HUGGING AND DANCING AND BRINGING JOYFUL FEMINISM TO ALL THE LAND
LESLIE KNOPE FOR PRESIDENT
Liberté, égalité. Beyoncé.
Lining up all the lip glosses you've ever lost until they wrap around the world
Living with the fact that you're a white person who regularly downloads songs from "Glee"
Locking all the mansplainers in a windowless room with Bellatrix Lestrange
Magic ovaries that shoot down rape sperm with lasers
Making 77 cents on the dollar (unless you're Latina)
Making Firefox your preferred browser for gay porn
Making him jealous with Viktor Krum
Making it obnoxiously clear to your friends that you'll be watching the Puppy Bowl instead of the Super Bowl this year
Making out with an openly gay Eagle Scout "to help him make sure"
Malala's gunshot wounds
Masturbating to Ty Pennington
Meredith Grey's slut phase
Meryl Streep selfies
MICHELLE DUNKING LEBRON BITCHES
Michelle Kwan gliding across the ice like a majestic goddamn swan
Misandry
Mother. Fucking. Thigh gap.
Naming your breasts Lorelei and Rory
Needing to pee before your nail polish dries
Not having the heart to tell him it really doesn't happen to everyone
Objectifying women "for charity"
Oil wrestling with all three Manning brothers. Yeah, there are three.
Only shaving up to the knee
Patti Stanger's line of jewelry Asking Larry Summers increasingly difficult mathematical questions until Bar and Bat Mitzvahs are considered equally important
Peggy Olson's cutthroat ambitions
Perversely cheering for a team your partner hates, just for funsies
Pitching "The Deathstick" to Good Vibrations
Pointing out to people who claim to hate abortion that they might want to consider supporting access to contraception
Polishing off another bottle of Bordeaux with Olivia Pope and Alicia Florrick
Politely asking Juan Pablo to stop ruining Juan-uary
Pre-ordering a new Hitachi Magic Wand just in time for Galentine's Day
Pretending someone else is home when the delivery guy shows up with your extra large pizza
Pretending you don't fantasize about taking Tim Tebow's virginity
Pretending you'll wear that bridesmaid dress again
Princess Aurora maniacally devouring the still-beating heart of Maleficent
Proclaiming the wine "undrinkable" immediately before drinking it
Proudly carrying your tampon to the bathroom in full view of everyone because THE JIG IS UP A LOT OF US HAVE PERIODS
Putting on skinny jeans straight out of the dryer and wanting to commit genocide
Queefing in the faces of Oscar voters until they're forced to recognize the achievements of women and people of color
Raising a champagne toast to Belle Knox, the badass Duke porn actress
Realizing halfway through a great date that you forgot to tweeze those nipple hairs
Realizing you're not having lesbian sex anytime soon after you get one of those chunky glitter manis
Realizing your awkward sitting position on the floor made your vag lips lose all sensation
Reimagining your life as gluten free when you find out the hot 23-year-old at the office has Celiac
Rejecting a guy who might be your future husband on Tinder because his face just akes you angry
Reminding yourself not to start a conversation about your to-do list after your mind wanders during sex
Renée Fleming bringing linebackers to tears
Resentfully clicking like on your boss's vacation photos
Rosa Park's back seat
Roses are red, violets are blue, women deserve equal pay for equal work
Running your fingers through Jon Stewart's lustrous salt-and-pepper hair until you've regained a sense of calm
Ryan Gosling's taint
Scalding hot wax right there on your labia
Screaming in terror at the giant bug in your shower before you realize it's a hair ball
Seven carpets that match the drapes
Seven minutes in heaven with Eric Decker
Sexual fantasies involving Mindy Lahiri and a sumptuous coffeecake
Shameful childhood memories of envying the wheelchair girl who got all the attention
Shouting "NOT OKAY TOO SOON DON'T DO IT KEVIN" when Fred Savage plays a perp on SVU
Sipping champagne and trying on dresses made by designers of color with Kerry Washington and Michelle Obama
Sirius holding his hand over your mouth so you don't wake his mother's portrait
Smiling and pretending the sexism in your industry doesn't exist because you'd like to get/keep a job
Sort of wishing the baby on the plane would die
Sorting your friends - even the ones you think belong in Hufflepuff
Stalking wedding photos on Facebook, weeping softly.
Staph infections from dirty nail salons
Stealing a male relative's Playboy and feeling brand new feelings
STOP MAKING ME PRETEND TO CARE ABOUT YOUR WEDDING PINTEREST DARLA
Stubbornly refusing to put a tampon in because your period should have ended two days ago
Stumbling on David Wright performing as Judy Garland in the East Village
Subjecting a handsy finance bro to the withering gaze of the Dowager Countess
Surprising your partner with a Vladimir Putin shaped butt plug
Swish and flick.
Taking a giant dump on the 18th green at the Augusta National Golf Club
Taking your vegan girlfriend to shuck some soysters
Talking sexy social justice with Maya Angelou until your caged bird sings
Taylor Swift's sloppy seconds
Telling a street harasser "YOU know what? I will blow you."
Telling Pacey your innermost secrets in a canoe beneath the Capeside stars
Telling the thousandth guy for the thousandth time that all he needs to do is expend one tiny modicum of effort
Telling your date you're only paying 77 cents on the dollar when he asks to split the check
Tenderly dominating Uncle Jesse from behind
Texting your blind date's address to all your friends for safety
Thanking whatever nice man decided women deserve one month per year to learn about our history
That dangerous, terrifying moment when you realize you've memorized your credit card
That floaty feeling your legs get when you shave them after a long time
That guy in your gender studies class who's "just playing devil's advocate"
That moment when the wind flows through your vag hair
That time Cate Blanchett schooled Hollywood about how films starring women do make money
That time the president said "Women deserve equal pay for equal work" and half the room disagreed
The Bechdel Test
The blue liquid from tampon commercials
The chills you still get down your spine remembering the night Barack Hussein Obama became our president
The chub rub
The cold hard truth that no lesbian has ever scissored
The dawning realization that this is your life and this is what you're doing with it
The delicious grin that spreads across your lips right before you cock-punch that guy who just told you to smile
The disconcertingly placed hotel bathroom mirror that allows you to finally know how your face looks when you poop
The effort to control your facial expression when your friend tells you what she named her baby
The fallacious mythological running bra that actually stops the bouncing
The fallopian tube related elevation sickness that forces lady sports reporters to stay on the field and out of the booth
The G-Spot, the Y -Spot, the other spot you made up to confuse your partner
The Golden Girls' never-ending supply of frozen cheesecake
The grim, completely unsurprised facial expressions of black women being kicked off "The Bachelor"
The Gyllenhaals: giving incest a thumbs up this one time
The holiday greeting card heteronormative parade
The look on your boyfriend's face when he said "anal is no big deal" so you pulled out a strap-on
The massively hot lesbian orgy we assume took place after women leaders were forced to march separately in the 1963 March on Washington
The mental jiujitsu required to be a Republican and a woman at the same time
The moving romance of a holiday where men are expected to reinforce structurally sexist gender norms by buying things
The nauseating fact that many NFL cheerleaders make less than $1,000 per year
The new Georgia O'Keefe biopic, "Yeah, that's not a flower"
The new Special K diet: eating the box
The newest weapon in the global war on poverty: Connie Britton's hair
The pleasurable feeling you get pulling a stray hair out of your butt crack while you shower
The race to beat your vibrator's dying batteries to the finish line
The raging hellfire your best friend Veronica Mars will rain down on anyone who betrays you
The realization that there's no polite way to ask if he's inside you
The saddest, loneliest hand job in all the world
The self-esteem murdering combination of constipation and skinny jeans
The shocking revelation that all Super Bowl car commercials are shot in Saudi Arabia, which is why no women are allowed to drive
The simmering rage when some friend of a friend you've never met mansplains you on Facebook
The temptation to jump the curb and mow down random men who tell you how to parallel park
The terror when you glimpse those tiny droplets of pee glistening on the public toilet seat
The torture chamber where Kathryn Bigelow keeps James Cameron
The underwear sniff test
The unknowable shame of having masturbated to The L-Word
The unmitigated horror of having to pee in a club while wearing a jumpsuit
The unparalleled bliss of taking the bra off and letting the girls fly free
The Williams sisters patrolling the night exacting brutal, unrelenting justice
Throwing every person who's ever assumed you were pregnant into a pit filled with hot acid
Thwacking a men's rights activist with Lady Gaga's shoe
Tina Fey and Amy Poehler making out on a pile of Bitch magazmes
Tom Colicchio whipping up a delectable midnight snack while you lean against the counter wearing one of his button downs
Trying to figure out which Weasley twin prefers anal play
Turning the tables on Katie Couric about her genitals mid-interview
Tweeting Cory Booker about that guy walking behind you
Unbelievably hot dreams about your ex because YOUR SUBCONSCIOUS IS AN ASSHOLE
Underboob sweat like rancid milk
Unfriending that one girl who won't stop vomiting her wedding planning on your Facebook
Unnecessarily gendered teas
Unsolicited information about your boyfriend's sperm count
Urinating on yourself to prevent an assault
Using a Super Bowl bet to get your partner to try that kinky sex thing they've been putting off
Using April Fools as a barometer to figure out which of your friends are actually funny
Velvety rose petals elaborately arranged to spell the words "I'm breaking up with you, asshole"
Waking up in Harry's four poster bed
Walking out of West Elm with another fucking throw pillow
Watching a more qualified woman of color get passed over for some white guy on national television
Watching Bethenny Frankel struggle for life in a churning sea of pre-mixed SkinnyGirl® cocktails
Watching Eli Manning's face light up as you hand him the world's most adorable puppy
Wearing yoga clothes to not do yoga
When "small and scrappy" just doesn't cut it
When a dog smells your crotch and you know exactly why
When a FOX News anchor casually references 'ebonies'
When a guy says "70% of women are crazy" and you want to find a way to cut his face off without reinforcing the stereotype
When a guy's like "ugh, are you on your period?" and you totally are BUT THAT'S NOT WHY YOU'RE ANGRY
When a male colleague tries to take credit for your idea and you shout "NOBODY PUTS BABY IN A CORNER"
When RuPaul throws ultimate shade and Alec Baldwin pees himself and faints into a bowl of soup
When someone thoughtfully points out that an article of clothing makes you look bigger, like that is the single worst thing that could ever happen to a person
When the tampon is too low and you feel it with every step.
When there are only two squares of toilet paper left and you know there's about to be a little bit of pee on your hand
When you wear a too-short skirt on public transportation and your vagina is basically touching the bus seat
When your boyfriend competes with Leslie Knope to be the best gift-giver ever and convinces Ladies Against Humanity to post your very own birthday card
When your one night stand finishes with "OMAHA!"
When your partner goes down on you until you turn into Moaning Myrtle
Wondering how best to vent about Obamacare without seeming like you don't support it
Wondering if Ariel chums the water every time she gets her period
Wondering whether your girl crush on Hermione constitutes pedophilia
Yearning to use Adam Scott's fluffy, gravity-defying mane as a full body shower loofah
Your gigantic crush on Jenna Lyons
Zach Braff and k.d. lang trading hair tips
Black
“Baby, what's wrong?”
“Daddy? What are you doing?”
“Whatever Peeta. You'll never understand my struggle with ______.”
50 Shades of ______.
All I want for Pi day is ______ and 3.14 actual pies.
Are you there, God? It's me, ______.
At the next Republican National Convention, Clint Eastwood will use a chair for ______.
Claudette Colvin is most famous for doing what Rosa Parks did 9 months earlier but she's second most famous for ______.
Derek Jetter will retire at the end of next season to spend more time ______.
Detective Stabler's latest rage blackout was brought on by ______.
Do you have something you'd like to share with the class?
Draw me, Jack. Draw me like ______.
Hey, Susie. I know your job is ______ but can you just grab me ______? Thanks.
How do I celebrate beating all my male co-workers in the office March Madness pool?
I couldn't help but wonder: was it Mr. Big, or was it ______?
I find that ______ helps me locate my IUD string.
I know it looks like that guy on the subway is masturbating, but really he's ______.
I thought I'd win her heart by ______, but sadly McKayla was not impressed.
I'm not a smoker at all, just sometimes I need a cigarette to deal with ______.
I'm so excited! I'm so excited! I'm so… so… ______.
I'm not even thinking about having a baby because I'm extremely busy ______.
If you don't mind my asking, how do lesbians have sex?
In "A Time to Kill,” Matthew McConaughey hated racism more than ______.
In her next romcom, Katherine Heigl plays a woman who falls in love with her boss's ______
Instead of a diamond ring, I want my partner to spend two months' salary on ______.
It's not cheating if I'm ______.
It's not length it's ______.
It's poker night with Beyoncé. You pull ______ out of your bra and slam it on the table.
It's not that I think we should break up, it's just lately I've been thinking a lot about ______.
Letting a white bro think he understands ______ better than you do.
MASH: Mansion Apartment, Shack, ______.
Men are from ___, women are from ___.
Meth is hard Let's go ______!
Obamacare has been criticized for restricting women's access to ______.
On a tough day, what's that one special thing Coach Taylor does to make you feel better?
On Wednesday, we wear ______.
One magical property common to unicorn blood, dragon blood, and Diva Cup blood is ______.
Pardon me while I take up less space so a man can have more room for ______.
She may not be fazed by Richard Sherman, but Erin Andrews is terrified of ______.
Shortly after the repeal of DOMA, Dumbledore was seen ______.
Sofia Coppola's new film focuses on a wealthy young white woman feeling alienated by ______.
Something old, something new, something borrowed, and ______.
Sometimes I want to think my one guy friend who's a legit baller feminist by ______.
That's why her hair is so big. It's full of ______.
The best excuse to not do that exercise groupon is ______.
The Devil Wears ______.
The latest proposal in the Texas legislature is to take away ______ from women.
The newest royal baby bears on alarming resemblance to ______.
The only thing more boring than your new diet is ______.
The Pantone color of the year is inspired by ______.
The secrets to John Boehner's smooth, even tan are a cream made from aborted fetuses and ______.
The thing I want most for Valentine's Day is my set of “Ladies Against Humanity” cards, but the thing I want second-most is ______.
This month in Cosmo; How to give your man ______ at the expense of ______.
This year's top Super Bowl commercial will use ______ to advertise Budweiser beer.
We are never. Ever. Ever. Ever ______.
What do I see in the Mirror of Erised?
What fell into my bra?
What is Olivia Pope's secret to removing red wine stains from white clothes?
What made this the most dramatic rose ceremony ever?
What makes a sponge-worth?
What should I get my therapist for Christmas?
What was Barty Crouch really doing in the Forbidden Forest?
What will Bill Clinton's social cause be as First Man?
What's in the gift baskets Derek Jeter gives to his one-night-stands?
What's my preferred way of celebrating International Women's Day?
What's my weapon of choice in the “War on Women”?
What's one thing straight white guys like even better than feeling oppressed?
What's Seth MacFarlane's problem?
What's the most privileged thing I do on the regs?
What's the one thing that worried Russia's anti-gay police even more than the entire sport of figure skating?
What's the one totally unexpected thing that helps Emeril stay hard?
What's the real reason there's no Wonder Woman movie?
What's the secret ingredient in Proactive®?
What's the weirdest thing that's been in my vagina?
What's my preferred method of contraception?
When I found out PARKS & REC was renewed for a seventh season, I celebrated by ______.
When Queen Elizabeth has to keep smiling, she just thinks of ______.
When they finally convince Chris Harrison to be The Bachelor, I'll win his heart by ______.
Why can't we have nice things?
Why do men on the internet send me pictures of ______?
Why does the Komen Foundation hate Planned Parenthood?
Why exactly was Alains so mad at uncle Joey?
You know nothing, Jon Snow, but you're pretty good at ______.
______: That's a deal-breaker.
______:the Tori Amos song that changed my life
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