The atmosphere in the arena was electric, with anticipation crackling in the air like electricity. Spectators filled every seat, their eyes trained eagerly on the ring, awaiting the clash of titans about to unfold. The announcer's voice boomed over the speakers, commanding attention.
"Ladies and gentlemen, prepare yourselves for a battle of epic proportions! In the blue corner, hailing from the land of the rising sun, standing at an impressive 6 feet 2 inches tall, we have Jin 'The Funeral Dove' Kazuya!"
Jin stepped into the ring, his presence commanding respect despite his slender frame. His black hair fell messily around his pale face, his eyes gleaming with determination as he prepared to face his opponent.
"And in the red corner, representing the pride of England, towering at an astonishing 210 centimeters and weighing in at a mighty 153 kilograms, we have Aaron!"
The crowd erupted into cheers as Aaron made his entrance, his imposing stature casting a shadow over the ring. His cold demeanor belied the raw power that emanated from every muscle in his body, his reputation as a heavyweight boxer preceding him like a thunderclap.
As the bell rang, signaling the start of the match, the two fighters wasted no time in sizing each other up. Jin moved with the grace of a dancer, his agile footwork keeping him just out of Aaron's reach. He launched a flurry of kicks, each one aimed with deadly accuracy, but Aaron remained unfazed, his focus unwavering.
With a grunt of exertion, Aaron closed the distance between them, unleashing a barrage of thunderous punches aimed at Jin's midsection. But Jin was no easy target, his evasive maneuvers and quick reflexes allowing him to dodge and weave through Aaron's onslaught with ease.
The crowd watched in awe as the two fighters exchanged blows, each one a testament to their skill and determination. Jin danced around Aaron, his kicks coming at lightning speed from all angles, while Aaron pressed forward relentlessly, his punches like battering rams.
As the match wore on, the tension in the arena reached a fever pitch. Jin's agility and precision kept him one step ahead of Aaron's brute strength, but the Englishman refused to relent, his punches growing more ferocious with each passing moment.
In a sudden burst of speed, Jin launched himself into the air, his leg extending in a powerful kick aimed directly at Aaron's head. The crowd held its breath as the kick connected with a resounding crack, sending shockwaves rippling through the arena.
But Aaron was made of sterner stuff, his iron will and determination keeping him on his feet despite the force of Jin's blow. With a roar of defiance, he retaliated with a devastating punch aimed at Jin's chest, but the Japanese fighter was already one step ahead.
With lightning-fast reflexes, Jin twisted his body to the side, narrowly avoiding the full force of Aaron's blow. In one fluid motion, he lashed out with another kick, this time aimed at Aaron's legs, seeking to weaken his opponent's stance.
The crowd watched in rapt silence as the two fighters continued to trade blows, each one a testament to their skill and determination. But in the end, it was Jin who emerged victorious, his agility and precision proving to be the deciding factors in the match.
As Aaron staggered backwards, his strength finally failing him, the crowd erupted into cheers and applause, their admiration for both fighters evident in the thunderous applause that filled the arena. Despite the outcome, both men had given their all in the pursuit of victory, and their bravery and skill would be remembered long after the final bell had rung.

Considering there’s a rumor going around that she’s a descendant of Samantha Parkington, I’m really hoping that she’s a history nerd who loves learning about her family history
However, judging by the fact that her logo has a paw print, she’s definitely an animal girl who probably wants to be a veterinarian or a girl who trains service dogs. I think maybe an interesting twist could be that she learns about animal cruelty and gets inspired by her ancestor Samantha who spoke out about child labor in factories to speak out against animal cruelty. That might be too dark for American Girl to take on but I think it’d an interesting way to teach kids about it AND would drive people to buy more plush animals especially if maybe part of the proceeds go to a charity for preventing animal cruelty.
Also I don’t know why, but I have a STRONG feeling that the GOTY 2025 will be blond,maybe because I think blond hair when I think of the name Summer. I really hope she’s not just another Kira or Julie because it will drive me crazy. Given how popular the Marie-Grace mold is, she may be a blond Marie-Grace mold with hazel eyes which actually would be super cute.

Do you start the twists by braiding the roots or do you twist throughout? Do you stretch your hair before twisting or do you twist it in it's shrunken, natural state? Do you twist your hair dry or damp with product?

Kadillac Kirk had been a good friend of mine for several years. I had met him through friends from The Spring Stage; and he never had anything to do with The Imp, which is why he didn’t appear in the Married Mary saga. Mary would have totally thrown herself at him, and Kirk would have definitely “thrown it in her.” He loved the ladies and often remarked that there was no such thing as an unappealing woman, nor was there anything sweeter than finding the pearl of passion in an outwardly plain dame. Fortunately for Kirk, he never met Mary. This was probably fortunate for Mary as well, seeing as Kirk was a confirmed bachelor and his rakish nature might have broken her fat heart.
Kirk was an older guy. Not MOE old, though. He was in his early forties, but he easily passed for a carefree dude in his 30s... not that he lied about his age. I only mention this trait to juxtapose Kirk’s genuine youthful air with Moe’s unconvincing youthful farce. Kirk dressed normally, avoided stupid jargon, and never busted out gimmicks like tarot cards or spells. He just existed, behaved affably, and people liked him for it.
He drove a classic 1962 Cadillac El Dorado convertible with red leather interior, and he lived in a charmingly quaint (and ridiculously expensive) neighborhood. How he made his fortune remained a mystery, but he never bloviated about his wealth. He just threw spectacular parties and people showed up. And, to my knowledge, he never tried to lure women into bed with his money (although I’m sure he got his fair share of boom-boom thanks to his digs and his wheels, even if the gold-diggers denied their monetary agendas).
Kirk was legitimately handsome. He was a drummer, he had a full head of black hair, he was clean-shaven, he worked out, and he knew all the hidden gems in Wellsprings. So why hadn’t I tried... or even desired to date him? I don’t know. I just didn’t feel drawn to him like that. He felt like a cool uncle and he had, thus far, never done anything to change my perception. Plus, the age difference weirded me out a little. Kirk didn’t look forty; but knowing that he had so much more life experience than I did created a power imbalance that would have creeped me out if we’d been dating. As buddies, I just felt supremely cool riding in his Cadillac, smoking Fantasia cigarettes, and hitting the speakeasies and jazz clubs I would have never known about if it weren’t for Kirk’s connections.
And he had been a good person to talk to about my romantic woes. He never lecherously suggested that I should date him, and he gave the type of tempered advice that only comes with lived experience. But he often lightly mocked me for my crush on Dennis and he did a hilarious impression of Smegal popping too soon over his “precious.” So when Mary “got me back” by doing whatever she did with to Dennis, I called Kadillac Kirk and told him the drinks were on me if he’d be my designated driver for the night.
Why hadn’t I called Whisky??? Well, A) Kirk was way more fun to hang out with, at least from my past experiences up to that point. And B) I needed to bitch about a boy, something I couldn’t do in good conscience in front of a guy I was dating. So I put on the sexiest plunging halter dress I owned, applied heavy eye makeup and spikey accessories, braved a pair of stilettos, and sashayed out to Kirk’s convertible. I felt like a badass rock star. I probably looked like a try-hard hooker.
Kirk: Daaaaay-um! Somebody really did do a number on you, huh? I know you said you were upset, but the gents are gonna be writing thank you notes to that fat girl and that butt-fucking hobbit.
Me: I just need to feel pretty and numb. And I trust you to keep me from making a fool of myself.
Kirk squeezed my shoulder. “I’ve got you. You do whatever you need to do to get rid of these demons.”
He sparked up a J and offered me the first puff. I gladly accepted. He took one puff of his own, but said that the rest was mine since he didn’t want to drive stoned. See? He was responsible! Weed wasn’t legal in California yet, so I got a little bit baked before I stashed the sativa in the glove box and wrapped a scarf around my hair like a starlet from the Golden Age of Hollywood. Kirk sped out of the parking lot and said he was taking me to a downtown hotel that was hosting a party that night in their lush lobby.
Kadillac Kirk pulled up to the main entrance, paid the valet, and then opened my door. I was wobbly from the weed. And I had stupidly decided to wear heels. You can get high or you can wear high (heels). You can’t have both. Not if you’ve repeatedly injured both ankles (as I have). I had to take Kirk’s arm to keep from keeling over. “Can people tell I’m stoned?” I whispered. Kirk replied, “Nobody’s paying any attention to anyone else’s intoxication. I promise you that much.” I nodded, steadied myself, and strutted alongside my very cool friend, feeling a little more confident.
A live jazz orchestra was playing Cole Porter as we entered the lobby. Everything sparkled. The music was even more intoxicating than the spliff had been. “Just One of Those Things” brought tears to my eyes since the lyrics hit every raw nerve regarding the Dennis debacle. But I smiled. It might sound mental, but being distraught over a trash fire of a one-sided romance was exhilarating. Immature, for sure. But also exhilarating. You see, that kind of sadness doesn’t hurt. Not really. It stings. It leaves little bruises, but it’s very safe to wallow in because you haven’t actually lost anything. Melancholia over that which you never had is as sweet as it is bitter; and that type of twisted splendor is rivaled only by Stendhal.
“Here's hoping we meet now and then. It was great fun, but it was just one of those things.” I sang along with the band, and a fat tear rolled down past my melancholic smile and onto my chin. Kirk brushed it aside. “Too close to home?” I wiped away the remnants of the tear’s journey from eye to chin and smiled a more genuine smile. “The perfect distance from home. Shall we get drinks? Remember, I’m buying.”
Kirk: No, no. This is your time to heal. And I’m here as your pal, not your chauffeur. What would the lady like?”
I pretended to barf. Kirk knew I hated it when he got overly formal and overly attentive. So he did it just to mess with me. “Shot of vodka,” I replied.
Kirk: How many?
I thought briefly. “FIVE.”
Kirk: Five to one, baby. One in five...
Me: No one here gets out alive.
Kirk: Are you able to hold yourself upright, or should you come with?
I took a seat on an ornate, damask-upholstered chaise lounge. “I’ll be okay. And I was kidding about the five shots.”
I sat there lost in the music for a while. I thought very little about Dennis. Even less about Mary. And not at all about Whisky (whom I had shagged less than a week ago). My mind danced through the ornate lighting in the hotel lobby, and I suddenly felt the need to join the hoity-toity guests on the dancefloor!
Kirk returned with four shots of vodka. Two for him, two for me. That was quite reasonable of him. He knew damn well that I couldn’t handle five shots, but he also knew that I was in a... state. One that called for more than a single shot. I raised a both miniature glasses to “No more ninnyhammers or hairy-footed lovers.” Kirk did his hilarious Smegal impression, we double-toasted, and downed the shots. The band launched into “Let’s Misbehave,” and I kicked off my stilettos and made a beeline for the dance floor.
“There’s something wild about you child that’s so contagious. Let’s be outrageous! Let’s misbehave.” Kadillac Kirk swept me up, twirled me around, and dipped me as we both sang along with the lyrics. I wasn’t swooning for him, but I was enthralled by the moment. The music, the dancing, the combination of booze and bud... so I kissed him as he pulled me back to my feet. And he kissed back. In a way that Dennis never had. In a way that Whisky’s beard wouldn’t permit. I didn’t feel the visceral sensations that I’d felt when Dennis had kissed me, but it felt nice to feel desired. And then I noticed that other guests were watching us and applauding. Now, that was a dopamine rush if ever there was one!
I gently broke away from the embrace, high-fived Kirk and returned to the chaise lounge to put my stupid shoes back on. He followed me and smashed his face back onto mine. I pulled away and laughed. “It was a moment,” I told him. “I appreciate the dance, and that kiss was the perfect finale. But it’s not happening again.”
Kirk: Not to worry, Valerie. I know you. I knew all along that we were performing, and I was more than happy to be your scene partner.
Me: And dance partner! Those were some excellent moves! I didn’t know you had ballroom training.
Kirk: You name it, I’ve mastered it. Another drink for the lady?
I pretended to barf again. “Not yet. I’m not sad right now. Do you mind if I just sit here and enjoy the music?”
Kirk: Ah. My kisses do have healing properties...
I flipped my hand up at him. “Knock that shit off, bro. I wanted to hang out with you because I trust you not to get weird. Even if I get weird, I know you have the maturity to balance me out.”
Kirk: Are you calling me old???
Me: No. I’m calling you rational, responsible, and respectful.
Kirk: Well, now. If you can articulate an alliterative statement that fluently, then you clearly aren’t drunk enough!
I dismissed this comment as a joke. And he did indeed knock off the flirtation. We had a perfectly pleasant time chatting and dancing (no more kissing, though). And then I noticed a girl I knew from Into the Woods entering the lobby. She’d played Florinda and I’d played Little Red. I called her name and waved enthusiastically. She waved back. And then her date entered. It was D.E.N.N.I.S. I sank into the chaise. Kirk caught on immediately. “The hobbit???” he asked. I nodded silently. “You wanna make out again?” he enthused. I shook my head. I had to go say hello to Flo. And I had an idea...
I crossed the lobby, smiled, squealed, and hugged her.
Florinda: Lil’ Red! It’s been forever! So glad to see you!!! This is my friend, Denny.
From the corner of my eye. I could see Dennis shifting uncomfortably. I refused to look directly at him, neglected to acknowledge Flo's introduction and continued to converse only with her. "So glad to see you, too! What have you been up to since we left the woods?"
Dennis: C’mon, Val...
Florinda (appearing oblivious to the iciness between me and Dennis): Oh, I had some drama after the show closed. I'll have to tell you about it some other time... Have you seen Prince Big Bad (Scumbanger) lately?
I laughed. “Last time I saw him, he was hitting on some nasty fat chick at The Imp.”
Flo and I both scoffed at the pervy pest. Into the Woods was where I’d initially met Scumbanger. He played The Wolf/Cinderella’s Prince. Again... typecasting. There’s a whole essay in my brain about my first encounter with the pest, during which he quoted the song that he sang to me in the show, “Hello, Little Girl.” But it gets into some pretty uncomfortable territory because he made me feel... excited. Well, excited and scared. Nothing of note happened during Into the Woods, but our odd interactions did kind of set the stage for some extremely regrettable events during that Cats cast party.
I excused myself, saying that I needed to get back to my friend. And then I leaned in and said in a hushed voice to Flo, “Watch your ass with that one. If he’s the Denny I’m thinking of...” I gave her a look that only another female would be able to read. Her eyebrows shot up and she nodded. Dennis continued to shift as though he were trying to hold in a massive dump. “BABE! Uh...”
Flo apparently answered to that moniker as well. “What is it, Denny? Don’t worry. That was just telepathic girl talk. You apparently have a reputation...”
Dennis: Different Denny. I assure you I’m a pious gentleman.
Me: Ah. My mistake. Well, then. You guys have a good time! They’re playing Cole Porter, and the band is delovely. Great to see you, Flo!
I hugged Flo again, gave Dennis a curt nod, ignored the scent of mandarins and mountain air, and returned to Kirk.
I collapsed on the chaise lounge, exhausted from holding back the rage. I had no right to be mad at Florinda. I hadn’t seen her in three years, so how was she supposed to know that I’d had a thing with Dennis? Hell, I couldn’t even be mad at Dennis because the last time he and I had spoken in any meaningful way, I’d told him that I was no longer entertaining my crush on him. So why was I surprised to see him dating??? And why had he never taken ME out on a date like this??? And why wasn’t I smitten with Kadillac Kirk who HAD taken me out on a date like this, was an objectively excellent kisser, and a bona fide BALLER? What was wrong with me???
Kirk suggested going down the street to a quaint little bar and then sobering up at a diner closer to my apartment. I numbly nodded and followed him in silence for a few blocks. He assured me that I had “turned several heads” on the way to the new location, but I neither cared nor believed him. This wasn't the type of numbness I'd been aiming for. Now I needed to get schnockered. “Five shots of vodka, please.” Yes, I was serious.
Kadillac Kirk, my reliable designated driver, ordered only a beer and watched in something across between astonishment, concern, and delight as I slammed all five shots in rapid succession. I half expected to immediately retch all over the bar. But I felt fine. I half expected to immediately lose consciousness and wake up in the hospital. But I remained coherent. How I’d managed to take in that much hard liquor and suffer no direct consequences, I’ll never know.
I think I wanted to suffer. I wanted to either feel nothing at all or to feel a sickness bad enough to distract me from the scorching sting that pulsed through my being when I realized that I had lost the abstract notion I’d been addicted to this entire time. Hope. It wasn’t Dennis himself I couldn’t quit. It was that drug called hope. The hope that maybe, just maybe Dennis would give our romance a fair chance. The hope that maybe, just maybe he would make peace with himself, get his mind out of his crotch, and enjoy some agenda-free togetherness. The hope that maybe, just maybe he would stop bloviating about his admittedly impressive accomplishments for five fucking minutes and ask about my life. I had my own reasonably impressive accomplishments, even if they paled in comparison to his. A proper suitor would have enjoyed hearing about them.
But seeing him out with another woman, a woman who had no reason to parade her Dennis escapades before me as some means of revenge, a woman he was clearly courting of his own volition... My hope had died. It died before I’d had time to wean myself off it. Now I had to mourn the loss of hope, which is a very tricky brand of grief to navigate. Vodka wasn’t the answer, but it was what I had to work with. So it would have to do.
After enough time had passed without vomiting or collapsing, I asked Kirk to bring his car around to the bar so that I didn’t have to walk two and a half blocks drunk and in heels. He nodded and dramatically leaned in for a kiss. I recoiled. “DUDE! I told you. The moment has passed.”
Kirk: I beg your pardon. I misread your eyes. Thought I saw a green light...
Me: It’s fine. I just want to go home while I’m still feeling okay.
Kirk: Of course. Your chariot will be here soon.
He skipped off to fetch his Cadillac and I noticed that the lights in the bar were beginning to dance a bit. This should have been concerning. But then I realized that I was giggling. Wait... What? Oh shit. Sure, I was drunk from those shots. But what I was feeling in that moment wasn’t drunkery. It was stonery. Kirk probably misread my face because my pupils were dilated. Not from desire, but from drug use.
Some of you might be thinking that I was a bad friend for not introducing Lucy, an old dude connoisseur, to Kirk. Well... I did. Several years before the events of this story. He adored her. She, on the other hand, thought he was immature. And she wasn’t wrong. Lucy was astute when it came to sussing out a person’s true nature. Far more astute than I. Her initial assessment that Kirk was immature is about to be vindicated. Stretch those cringe muscles! It’s almost time for pie...
I somehow managed to get to his car. I honestly don’t recall how I got there. Did one of the bartenders carry me? Did some kind patron allow me to lean on him? Had Kadillac Kirk carried me out? I’m not sure. But my memory ceases to be fuzzy about halfway to the 24-hour diner. It might have been the very same 24-hour diner where Mary pulled her... shenanigans. I’ll never know.
Kirk: Would you say that you’re more drunk or more stoned?
Me: STONED. Definitely stoned.
Kirk made some sort of grunty noise and reached for my thigh. I slapped his hand.
Kirk: Stoned but not amorous? That’s rare.
I started laughing rather unkindly. “You’re a fucking horndog! I thought you were my safe straight male friend, dammit.”
Kirk: I solemnly swear that your safety is my primary concern, my stoned beauty.
I pretended to throw up.
Kirk: So... You’re not horny. But are you hungry? The diner I’m heading to makes this Maple Walnut Pie with the most sumptuous... sensual cream and exquisite drizzling of...
Me: Ew! Stop trying to bang the pie. Bro. Are YOU stoned? (Then I remembered the question.) Yes, I’m hungry. But I don’t like nuts. I’ll have banana cream.
Kirk made that repulsive grunty noise again. “Uhhhhh... Mmmmmm. Cream. Yessssss. Yes, we’ll be there in just a minute.” He was squirming in the driver's seat.
Me: GROSS, DUDE! If you’re gonna be like that I’ll just order HASH brows. Get it? Hash??? (I giggled.) You can’t make that sound nasty.
Kirk: Forgive my jokes. I think my blood sugar’s a bit low.
As Kirk parked, I began to wonder how I might get away with walking shoeless into the diner. The stilettos had to get off my feet. At least while I was walking. And Kirk was kind enough to give me his socks and wear his loafers “island style” into the establishment. Okay, that was gallant of him. Maybe he was going to behave himself for the rest of the evening.
I wasn’t terribly talkative as we sat down, and he expressed a bit of concern for my emotional well-being. I wasn’t coherent enough to explain what was happening to my emotions and I wasn’t sure I trusted him with my deep, dark secrets at that point. So I shrugged like a sulky teenager, ran my hands over my messy, windblown hair, and mumbled that I was “just hungry.” And right on cue, a very kind, slightly older waitress with a sweet southern accent stopped by to take our order.
Kirk: Ah, yes. We’ll have two cups of black coffee. And we’ll share a slice of that delectable Maple Walnut Pie.
Waitress: Oh, honey. That pie is scrumptious! I take it you’ve been here before?
Kirk: I have. This will be her first time to taste the splendor.
I hated to be a killjoy, but I interrupted and said to the waitress, “Ma’am? I’m sure the Maple Walnut is excellent, but could I please get a slice of Banana Cream? And a big glass of ice water?
Waitress: Sure, hon! Banana Cream’s just as yummy! I’ll be right back with those coffees and that big water.
Kirk was sucking on the tip of his forefinger and shaking his head a bit. “You’re passing up so many sensational... sensual...”
I put my forehead on the table and growled. “You swore you’d stop being nasty!” I held this #headdesk pose for quite some time before I finally lifted my head... only to see that Kirk was still sucking his fingertip and staring at me like a wild animal. “Pleeeeeease be normal,” I whined. “It’s been a really weird night for me.”
Kirk: Indeed. Many surprises. You know... You’re like titanium. Your flame burns so fast and so bright, if a guy doesn’t get in there while the iron is hot, he’ll never get another chance. I was too slow.
What the...? I was pretty sure he was wrong about titanium burning quickly. I’m no chemistry wiz, but my dad and my oldest brother are both big-brains when it comes to physics and chemistry. So I picked up some things just listening to them talk. Accurate or inaccurate, Kirk was being creepy again. He’d never been creepy towards me before, although I’d seen him act like this with other women. Usually with staggering success. Why????? His money. It had to be his money. Kirk was a nice-looking man, but holy shit... No amount of good looks could save this creep show
And then, our sweet waitress sat down our coffees, my water, and the two slices of pie. After I gulped down a whole bunch of water, I grabbed a fork, prepared to quell my munchies... and then I froze. Kirk was quickly flicking his finger back and forth across the top of his pie. And moaning. He noticed my wide-eyed stare, smirked, sucked the tip of his thumb, picked up the plate with both hands, and began flicking his tongue across the tip of the triangular pie slice. And moaning some more. Well, there went my appetite.
Kirk took his middle finger and jabbed it into the crustless vertex of the pie slice, then he began pumping it in and out like a piston, and flicking his thumb across the increasingly demolished top layer of whipped cream. He gasped this time. People were starting to stare. His pointer finger joined his middle finger in the piston action, and he replaced his thumb with his tongue. Between flicks of the tongue, he groaned, “Oh yeah, baby... Let me taste you,” but it was kind of hard to understand him.
And I was either about to run to the back office, tell them that I was in danger and needed a police escort home... OR I was about to burst out laughing at the spectacle. Kirk continued... He removed his fingers and gregariously licked pie filling off of them. "Ohhhhh," he groaned, "I got you soooo sticky. So sweet. So moist." And then he started sucking his fingertips again, switching from middle to pointer, middle to pointer and emitting a delighted little, “Mmmmmm” with every suck.
Finally, he jabbed his fingers back into the utterly destroyed pie, lowered his face into the mess and lapped loudly and passionately, moaning, grunting, and mumbling “Come on, baby. Come on. Mmmmmm. Come on.” I could see the waitress and some dude in a suit heading over to the table, so I sank down in my seat, partially covered my face, but continued to watch the train wreck. At last, Kirk shuddered violently as he splatted his entire hand onto the plate and rubbed furiously. And then he locked eyes with me. He sucked the tip of his thumb one final time and said, “You...” There was a long pause during which Kirk lovingly stroked the mess he’d made. “You... are the pie.”
I don’t hang out with Kadillac Kirk anymore. But he’s still a bachelor, ladies!

The longer my hair grows, the more noticeable hair shedding is, and the MASS of hair left after a shower always fill me with dread. Can't help but think that it's not normal and I have an issue, even after reading tons of websites explaining that the average is 50-100 lost hairs per day, and more on shower days. I always wanted very long hair (like 1 meter), and those visions combined with the fact that my hair is already super gray and feel... twisted? damaged? even though they shouldn't be, always make me panic a bit.
How dumb I am for this? Do any of you experience the same?

Name: Hersheal D. Shabba Age: 20 Height: 6’0 Weight : 189 lbs Devil fruit: Saru- Saru no mi (Ape-Ape Fruit) Model: Stone Monkey Affiliation: Straw hats pirates, (True Mono Disciples) Positions: Lookout Epithets: Monochrome Gangsta Personality: Likes to talk to himself, sing to himself, Dance when he thinks he’s alone, Easily distracted by something obscure or minor (ADHD), ADD Neutral: street smart, hard headed, spiritual, artistic Positive: Humble, loyal, generous, passionate Negative: Short Fuse, awkward Appearance: half Lunerian white and black hair Afro Twists, slits in eyebrows, Red eyes, yellow camouflage zip up , Gold dripped headbands, Asterisks like scar on left cheek, Mini Black wings Height: pre-time skip 5’11 post time skip: 6’0 Build: pre time skip: Skinny lean and toned out with some muscle Post time skip: Hero built like BaKi Hanma Dream: To be The world’s strongest man, finding out the secrets of the celestial dragons and taking down the celestial dragons powers and techniques : Immense Strength Enhanced Speed Enhance Senses (especially sight) Enhanced Acrobatics Healing Factor Invulnerability Shape-shifting Cloning Cloud Manifestation Ape-like Practices Primate Communication Wizard form (Black Fur) Lunarian form(White Fur) True Monkey King (Golden Fur) Victorious Fighting Monkey King Conqueror’s Haki (Advanced) Observation haki (Advanced) Armament Haki (Advanced) Monkey King style Roast Session Hawk Arrow Eagle Kick Atom Smasher Twin Atom Smasher Divine Breaker(Atom Smasher + Advanced Conqueror + Advanced armament haki) Buster Cannon (Combined Atom Smasher) Great Sage Devastation (Combined Divine Breaker) Able to Travel Dimensions 72 earthly transformations Laser Eye beam Musical Attacks Spirit Geyser Heavenly Ragnarok Big Steppa One inch Punch Fourth wall awareness Immortal elixir Immortal peach Protagonist Summons Weakness: standard Devil fruit weaknesses Traveling to dimensions gives him splitting headaches till he passes out Magical Golden headband
Ruyi Jingu Bang: Divine Hawk Arrow Strike raid Supra Twister Great Sage Festival Longinus slash Calamity Falls Mega Flare Lethal Flame Raging Storm Holy rain White Horse Dragon Flame Great Sage Meteor Zettaflare Exoflare Terraflare
Clones: •Triple Power Bomb •GSDD (Great Sage Death Drop) •Gravesite Finisher •Replicamikaze •5 k Shabba Barrage •Roly Poly Slam •Poetry in Motion
Universal Transponder Snail

I saw this beautiful dark skin woman outside a coffee shop wearing her natural hair, she was with her white friends (one asian if it even matters) and all their hands were on her hair, they were stroking it twisting it. then one of them said "wow its so frizzy, dont you want it to be straight? it'd look better if you straightened it". lmao not my circus but its wild to see live. i hope to see her roll up on this sub soon.

This is a stupid theory but all legendary crews in one piece has a naming system like king,queen, jack of beast pirates, gold roger, silvers releigh, Scopper Gabban. Even in luffy's crew jimbei is son of sea,sanji is son of sky(sorra) and zoro is son of earth(moss head, green hairs etc). But thing is that in Strawhat fleet the most powerful member in terms of influence is ussop sure he has smaller bounty but he has alot of subordinate who call him god ussop What if the joyboy crew was same the joyboy wasn't captain but imu was and when he saw influence of joyboy he betrayed him or otherway around the joyboy was captain but was having all the glory that he betrayed his crew. PS :(my basis for this theory is records of regnarok in that show a god wanted to become strongest one so he and his friend went out to face evygod they could find bit at end when he faced his friend for title of strongest God he lost) I know I'm reaching but this can be a good plot twist.

Synopsis:
An engineer in another world—blending science and magic to achieve greatness in a world where skills and levels reign supreme.
—
Ethan was just a plain old engineer, but everything changed when he was reborn into a world of skills, levels, and magic. With his advanced knowledge far ahead of the time period he finds himself in, this new reincarnated life will be much different than his last, especially because he can construct, deconstruct, and reconstruct runes—something no one else can do.
But with royal politics, looming tax collectors, a mountain of debt, dungeon incursions, cults, and hostile fantasy races mixing together into a cocktail of bullshit that threatens to bury his dreams; Ethan must bridge the gap between steel and sorcery to grow stronger. — Runecrafting is slow burn. — What to Expect: - Weak to very strong progression - Hardcore wish fulfillment - A balance of action, kingdom building, and runecrafting. - MC will trigger an industrial revolution, revolutionize magic, modernize agriculture, communication, commerce, textile production, education, transportation, sanitation, weapons manufacturing, leisure & entertainment, and medicine.
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Chapter 04

-1-
Ethan's heart thumped in his throat as he looked at the arrow's head glinting. Fortunately, Roland had grabbed it in an instant. The arrow hadn't hit Ethan, and it likely wouldn't have. Roland threw the arrow aside as Ethan heard a muffled grunt and glanced out the window to the right. An arrow had pierced the side of their driver, right between the shoulder and chest. Ethan whipped back into his seat just as another projectile smashed against the other side of their carriage, denting it. Roland immediately stood up with a calm demeanor and unsheathed his sword. "Lord Theodore, please remain seated. This inconvenience will be dealt with shortly."
Ethan blinked up, nodded, and clasped his hands around his knee while resting his head against the window ledge as Roland got out. Situations such as this weren't anything he'd ever dealt with back on earth, but he had plenty of experience keeping himself in check when fear took hold. He'd been a boxer, after all. Ethan tapped his finger on his knee, again and again.
"Die, you shits!" a voice yelled, then a meaty crash was followed by a pained groan. It was clearly someone falling over. Moments later, footsteps approached from the other side. A man swung the carriage door open. "Get—"
Before he could say much else, a sword pierced through his chest. He slumped and hit the ground without a word, revealing Roland standing with a blank expression. His eyes were different than anything Ethan had seen since his transmigration—Roland looked nonchalant even after taking a life, which was understandable given that the man had likely taken a lot of lives. Ethan closed his eyes, refusing to look at the dead body.
More footsteps grew nearer. Two sets. They stopped beside their carriage. "Well fuck, what a piece of trash." one man said, then lurched at Roland with a bloody shout.
The fight was over in an instant.
Roland simply disappeared from his position before Ethan. Reappearing behind the two bandits flanking him, he delivered an equally lethal strike to each in turn. Simultaneously, a sharp crackling and whooshing sound made Ethan tense. Spreading out on the floor before the carriage, a dark blue magical glyph buzzed like electricity, sending sparks of electricity slamming into the bandits.
Then, the bandits' bodies split in two halves, their blood sprayed across the dirt before they even began collapsing with electricity sizzling on their bodies.
Just as he'd felt movement in the air through [Magic Perception], a man materialized right in front of Ethan. Tensing, Ethan didn't know what to do
Roland shouted from outside. Adrenaline rocketed through Ethan's veins. Hand moving, he grabbed the bandit's hand and twisted it. The bandit tackled him, and with the tight space, Ethan felt the tip of a knife nicking the side of his cheek. The wound stung badly, and with it, Ethan's mind blanked and his instincts kicked in.
Roland swiftly spun, but not in time to stop the man from pinning Ethan against the bench.
However, it wasn't needed. Ethan used [Elemental Spells] and summoned fire all over his palms. A sizzling sound erupted as the bandit cried out and went for Ethan's eyes with his free hand. Ethan bit the bandit's hand, and only got half a mouthful of skin and cloth. The bandit reeled back and leapt backward from the sudden burning pain, crying out as he crashed. Ethan lunged at him, grabbed and force-flipped the bandit's hand, and plunged the knife into his throat with an aggressive grunt. There was a short, gurgled cry, before the bandit tried swinging the knife towards him. "Cunt... bastard..." his bloody mouth formed the words, his eyes staring fearfully, but Ethan pushed the knife aggressively.
Blood sprayed and gushed onto Ethan's mouth.
Then, finally, the man stilled.
The corpse's weight fell onto Ethan, hot blood spilling out of the bandit's throat and filling the air with an acrid odor. Ethan felt it on his face. Hot. Metallic smell. He saw it dripping down the bandit's throat, all across his clothes, even in his hair. It was heavy, almost. Layer upon layer, the heavy cloak of the man's life weighting down on his spirit.
System notifications flashed but he ignored it given that bile rose in Ethan's throat. His vision darkened, and a rush of blood roared in his ear as his heart thumped like thunder. A violent urge to vomit rose within him, his entire body twitching. He had never seen a man die in front of him like this before. Disgusting as it was, he gulped everything down, even the reality he had found himself in, the death, the violence, it all set in at that moment. However, he had no time to delve on it. Even though he felt like someone had squeezed his windpipe, like a bullet was tearing through his skin, he needed to act. Now.
Ethan flipped the man aside and sat on his knees, pulling out the knife from the bandit's neck. From his place on the ground, he glanced at Roland engaged with three bandits.
One slipped past Roland and made it to Ethan. They're trying to get a hand on me. Why? The answer was simple. Oh, right... I'm a noble, they can just put a knife on my throat and demand shit...
Instead of giving the bandit the upper hand, Ethan took a breath. Once. Twice. Now or never, thinking so, he raised the knife and dove headfirst toward the approaching enemy. Caught by surprise, the bandit merely moved his free hand to counter attack. His fingers grasping the bandit's arm, he twisted it away, giving him room to go straight for the eye.
With a meaty sound, Ethan plunged the knife through the man's eyes. Blood spurted with a slick sound. The bandit wasn't fast enough to make a full reaction, as a sort of instinctive scream of terror got stuck halfway and died out. Then, as the feeling of having ended another life settled within him, Ethan retracted the dagger and stepped back. His back slamming against the carriage, he slid down and pressed a hand against his forehead. His cheek hurt. He smelled sweat and blood.
Fuck... Fuck... Breathe. This is... I can't... Breathe.
A chill ran down his spine and his heartbeat roared. He took a breath, adrenaline still surging through his veins. The sick feeling didn't leave his stomach, his entire body twitched as if electrocuted every once in a while, and his eyes started going hazy, unclear. Black spots in his field of vision. Sticky warmth all over. Hot metallic odor in his nostrils.
"Lord Theodore!" Roland's voice acted as a way for Ethan to reorient himself into reality. Roland looked ashen, not because he was tired but most likely because he'd let Ethan get into such a vulnerable position. Roland glanced at the corpse, then Ethan, then back at the corpse again, looking tense, lips tight and hands clutched into fists. "Are you alright, my lord?"
"Yes, of course," Ethan said as he studied the wound on his cheek. I need a healing skill. However, he noticed the visible distressed Roland was having and continued. "I'm fine. Don't worry. It's no big deal. For the moment, we need to clean up this mess."
Ethan could tell Roland was uncomfortable with the situation and Ethan's complete indifference, but the warrior dutifully obeyed his lord's commands. Ethan slumped onto his seat and looked through the notifications.
Your race, [Human], has leveled up — Lvl 0 -> Lvl 1!
Your class, [Mage], has level up — Lvl 0 -> Lvl 1!
[Unranked Mage] -> [Initiate]
[Elemental Spells] — Lvl 5 -> Lvl 6!
A [Quest] approaches!
Hmm, this is the second time I see the message 'A [Quest] approaches'... What is it? Why doesn't the system just give me the [Quest]? Are there conditions? Regardless, it seems that [Elemental Spells] just needed some use in battle instead of just plain old practice. Curious.
Ethan leaned back with a sigh. Now that his heartbeat wasn't drumming in his ear, the fear slowly ebbed away. All things considered, this turned out well, given the situation. However, now that he'd calmed somewhat, his eyes landed on the corpse right beside him, and that fresh scarlet blood seeping into the floorboards. The heavy coppery scent, the unmistakable smell of death. It all came crashing into him and he could no longer deny what he'd done. It had all gone so quickly.
No theatrics, the knife had just flown in, and the bandit had struggled, then stopped struggling.
Ethan stared at the corpses. With his hands on his lap, he gazed vacantly. For a single, stretched-out moment, the only thing he was aware of were the lifeless bodies right next to him, the sensation of having one less enemy standing in the way. One of the bandits had his jugular slashed. Another had a knife poking into his eyes. Ethan had killed them. Him. It was nauseatingly easy, taking another's life. It felt good. Ethan was disgusted at that thought, but damn did it feel good. I—I... I won. He wanted to grin, but he didn't.
Soon, the bandits were dealt with. Not a minute was wasted, and they cleaned up and got moving in a hurry, before Roland could throw the corpse inside the carriage out, Ethan stopped him.
He'd been staring at it, sitting there, silently. Bile would rise to the tip of his throat before he'd swallow it, a stone in his gut making his movements stiff. It felt unreal. When he took that step to make sure the bandit was dead, his eyes met with those of the corpse—with glassy black pupils that appeared frozen mid-realization that he was dying. Fearful, horrified eyes. Human eyes. Ethan stared into them, felt every fiber of his body clench, saw the smears of blood across the man's mouth where his desperate breaths had made him cough up, to live.
Ethan stared, not because he was a masochist or someone who derived pleasure from other people's misery. Rather, it was because he wanted this to never happen again. His reaction. It hadn't been optimal. He just knew he'd need to kill and spill blood if he was to survive, and thus, he needed to familiarize himself with the sight of death—death caused by his hands.
His thoughts were a little less orderly than he liked. That needed to change, fast. It would always be a burden, so he simply chose to stare, knowing he was staring down his weakness—at his fear.
After a solid five minutes, Ethan turned around. Roland's gaze met Ethan's. For a brief moment, the gaze was averted, the warrior showing clear guilt. Ethan placed a hand on the man's shoulder. "Roland, don't blame yourself. I understand you must have felt cornered and unable to react. Just know I appreciate you. Don't beat yourself up for it. There have been no casualties on our side."
Roland bowed his head. Ethan smiled, though it was strained. Roland had been standing there for a while now but hadn't wanted to interrupt Ethan's self-reflection time, despite being tense himself. The guards had burned the corpses. Soon, the men Ethan killed were taken out, too. Then they left for the woods.
A guard who appeared to be a [Mage] that had a spell called [Cleanse] walked to the carriage, and placed his hands near the gore-splattered interior. In mere moments, a rune flickered into existence, then, mana got sucked out of the guard, seeping into the rune—soon, the blood and even the smells were swept clean and everything returned to being a neat and tidy.
The guard staggered a little before his comrades stabilized him. Must be quite demanding, Ethan noted, nodding appreciatively as the guard stepped out of the carriage. "That's quite the useful skill," Ethan said, examining the results.
Roland gave a silent nod, no doubt feeling pretty damn bad about his failure.
The guard, on the other hand, bowed with a smile, clearly appreciating Ethan's recognition. "It's a pleasure to be of service, my lord. This humble guard has had this skill ever since he became a mage."
Ethan made an impressed noise. "I see."
The guard beamed, then bowed even more before walking over to his fellow guards, who patted his backs at a job well done. Then, the horses pulled the carriage, and the carriage resumed moving. As soon as his back had settled into the cushion of the seat, an exhausting wave rolled over Ethan's body.
Before everything, however. I saw the rune. Ethan grinned a little, then willed mana into the shape of the rune.
It sputtered.
Ethan tried again, connecting different parts of the rune. One. Two. Three. Four. And as the rune sputtered again.
Throughout the journey to Deadwoods, Ethan kept at it.
He failed every time—
—and he didn't know why.
An immense headache assaulted him, and he had to stop his attempts.
-2-
The Deadwoods proved to be just what he'd expected. Dead. Charred branches and crumbling trees lay spread throughout. Roland looked around solemnly. Ethan was more interested in what kept this place the way it was. This land was, to put it simply, the most horrific location in the entire barony. It was a huge portion of a forest that appeared to be dead, thus why it had gotten the name Deadwoods.
Leaves crunched underneath Ethan's feet, and he studied his surroundings with morbid curiosity. The trees, branches and leaves were all dark in color as if something had scorched them. Many creatures lived here, animals like the usual game of deer, wolves, and foxes and sometimes there'd even been bears spotted. The dangerous thing, however, wasn't that the animals existed, it was that they were magical beasts. Mutants.
"Lord Theodore," Roland said, hand on his sword, eyes darting around in caution. "It is dangerous to be here—"
"Peh." Ethan waved his hand nonchalantly, much to Roland's shock at such an uncharacteristic behavior. "It will be worth it."
After all, I'm gonna have fun hunting monsters, leveling up, and finally, finally finding some goddamn tree ash.
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Hey guys! I (24F) am looking for a dark brown or black wig that has bangs. I used to have butt-length hair till I suddenly developed trich a few months ago and started twisting my hair into knots and pulling it out, after which I’ve unfortunately ended up with pixie length hair + a few bald spots.
I’m getting married in 3 weeks and need a realistic looking dark brown or black wig, of short or medium length ideally, that’s just put-on-and-go since i have no idea how to use glue/concealer and generally struggle with tasks due to depression. My budget is <$300, but i’m okay with going up to $500 if it’s worth it.
I will be seeing my family and friends after months (they live in a different country) and I’m so worried about how I’ll look and what they’d think!
Thank you for your help.

"We're your mates." Mates? Six mates? How could it be?! "Wait a minute... you said all of you. That's not how mates work. Fated mates are two people, not an entire harem." I hissed as I shook my head. "This conversation is ridiculous because it's not real." Silence filled the space between us for several long seconds. "You really want us to leave?" My stomach twisted at his words. We just met, and yet he sounded devastated as he asked the question. I silently cursed myself for causing the change I heard. If I was a better person, I would say something else. "Yes." "Fine, we'll leave, but only on one condition. Buss each one of us. Then, if you feel nothing, we'll walk out of here without protest." ———————— I would die in this very spot, and no one would have a clue. Six hours... I'd been trapped under this pile of random things for six hours. My hips and back ached from how long I'd been stuck in this exact position. I'd tried everything I could think of, but the massive pile of unknown stuff never moved. Something heavy had landed on my back, keeping me pinned face down on scattered newspapers and the occasional book. How did I know there were books when I couldn't see them? Because of the sharp corners stabbing into me. If that level of depressing suckage wasn't enough, I had to pee. My bladder hurt... felt like it was about to burst. Because of course, the first time I decided to drink spirits, I'd end up faced and trapped under a pile of a hoarder's treasure. To relieve some of the pressure off my cheek, I dug my shoulder into the newspaper floor and tilted my head until my forehead pressed against the mess underneath me. The small amount of relief I felt from the change of position was enough to stop me from going insane. For now. Ding dong. "You've got to be shitting me." I grumbled into the ancient newspapers. Someone at the door wouldn't matter. I couldn't get off the floor... erm, pile of stuff that acted as a floor, to answer the door. Whoever was on the other side would eventually think someone wasn't home and leave. And so would my only chance at being rescued. "Ha." I couldn't stop the sarcastic laugh from escaping. Even if they did come in, whoever they were wouldn't want to sign up for this insanity. I didn't even want to deal with this nightmare my life had become. Thanks mom. Ding dong. Ding dong. Who rang the doorbell multiple times? Seriously, just go away and let me die. Sure, I would be in the hall of shame for dumb ways to go, but I'd already accepted my fate. Not only would I die in one of the most embarrassing ways in history, I'd go with the dullest life experiences. Why? Because I'd always done what I was supposed to do... every single expectation my parents had, I jumped at the chance to please them. I was an idiot. A boring, lame, not once destined to save the world, sheltered little girl that grew in an inexperienced woman. My life was pathetic. "Parker, are you okay?" The deep voice sent shivers through me. I imagined this unknown man growling in my ear. Then my senses came back to me. While I was on the verge of being crushed to death, someone had broken into my house. Great, just what I needed. Good luck mister robber. If you can find anything valuable, then you deserved it. The logical side of my brain caught up to current events. First thing, a robber wouldn't call out my name as he broke into my house. Second, I didn't know anyone with a voice so delicious... uh, I meant distinct. Yeah. Should I respond or hope they gave up and left? My mother would have insisted I remain silent. Her voice slid through my memory. "Men were a distraction to a woman's career." I rolled my eyes at the phrase she'd said throughout my childhood and even after I'd moved out on my own. If I was going to leave this world, it would be after doing something ridiculous. I'd call the man with the delicious voice over, then I could die from embarrassment. "I'm over here!" What I'd intended to be a shout came out more as a breathy moan. I barely had room to breathe. It seemed shouting was impossible. A burning hot pain shot through my neck as I tried to turn my head to see the footsteps that approached. Nope, that wasn't going to happen. My mysterious, silver tongued hero or burglar's looks would have to remain a mystery just a bit longer. "Over here!" Just like last time, his voice made me shudder. With a voice like that, the man had to be hot. I hoped he had a beard... and tattoos. Not only would it make my mother roll in her grave, I'd always loved looking at burly, tatted up, bearded guys. Add in hair that was long enough to pull and I couldn't think of a good reason to ever leave the house. The crushing weight finally lifted off me. I sucked in a deep breath, then immediately regretted it as I choked on the oxygen. My lungs seized as the rush of air shocked them. Hands grabbed my arms and shoulders, then the world tilted as they lifted me to my feet. I bent over and grabbed my knees as my equilibrium spun. Hands patted my back, helping me calm. Actually, there were more than two hands. I counted enough to equal three people. When I got my breathing under control, I dared follow the black boots that stood at the top of my vision. My gaze slid up, taking in black cargo pants that rode low on a pair of hips. Further up, a black tactical vest contained... bottles of cleaning solution. What the heck? The moment I went full vertical, my balance tilted again. I stepped back to catch myself. In front of me stood a massive man, the kind I had to look up to just to catch a view of his chin... his bearded chin. My fingers itched with the need to touch it. I didn't. It would be weird to stroke a hot stranger's beard. Wouldn't it? I shook my head. Of course it would be weird. I turned, taking in the four men and one woman standing all around me. The sound of newspapers sliding preceding my right foot slid out from underneath me. The giant of a man caught me before I fell on my hips in front of everyone. They all wore similar black tactical gear with cleaning supplies. Colorful bottles of solution, a duster, a roll of trash bags, and... was that a broom and a mop with shoulder straps? Who were these people? "Parker, are you okay?" The deliciously deep voice asked from behind me. After a few tries, I accepted the fact that I was speechless. My brain nudged at me, telling me I'd missed a crucial detail. Every brain cell misfired as I looked them over again. Correction, five of them wore black tactical gear. Every single one of them was drop dead gorgeous, and it made me feel out of place. One of the guys stood off to the side with his arms crossed over his chest. I blinked. No, that couldn't be right. I blinked again, but the sight stayed the same. A man stood taller than those closest to him. Peeking over his crossed arms was a ruffled white fabric with black lace woven through it and tied in a bow. There was even a small scattering of chest hair sticking over the edge. The hem of the skirt ended well above his knee, revealing a tattoo that covered his entire right thigh. My gaze traveled up to his face. A plush black beard contrasted with the skimpy maid's outfit he wore. "I..." Words failed me again. I gestured to the man whose outfit didn't fit the others. He rolled his eyes as he tightened his grip on his arms. "They thought it would be funny to prank me. Did you know, not only did they buy this ridiculous outfit, they stole the rest of my clothes, so I'd have to wear this?" "Uh, no. I don't even know who all of you are." For whatever reason, it hadn't dawned on me that all these incredibly attractive people were standing in my house. Like inside, where they could take in the horror of what my mother left me to inherit. Mortification slammed into me. They'd seen the awful mess. "You all need to leave." "Parker?" The burly man's voice from behind me caught my attention. He waited until I turned around to continue. "You don't remember asking us to come here, do you?" Ice slid down my spine. I'd been pretty drunk last night, but since I'd never had spirits before and I'd decided to take shots of everything in my mother's 'social hour' cabinet, I wasn't even surprised I'd woken up with a hangover. "How much did you have to drink last night?" "Seeing how I'm awake now, apparently not enough. Who are you, and how do you know me?" The man bared his teeth at me, making a sound that I could only describe as a hiss. "Never again. From now on, if you need something, you ask us." I dismissed him with a wave of my hand. "Why would I ask you anything?" "Because we're your mates." Hard stop. Mates? A giddy feeling in my belly told me he didn't mean a friend. I held a finger up for him to give me a minute. A sharp pain slid through my abdomen, reminding me I had yet to relieve myself after my drunken night of mistakes. One of the other men spoke up. "I know it's a lot to take in, and you're probably really confused, but we are all your fated mates." I'd read enough werewolf romance novels to know what they meant, and they were dead wrong. Shifters weren't real. "Yeah mate, tell us what you need, and we'll get it for you." "I need to pee." And with that, I stomped out to the nearest bathroom and locked myself inside. Why wouldn't the ground open and swallow me whole? I sat on the bathroom floor with my back propped against the wall and hugged my legs to my chest as I rested my forehead on my knees. Not only had people witnessed the horror I lived in, but they had to be the hottest people in the world. Even the woman had made me look twice and left me shoving a deeper desire I refuse to even consider right now. Knock, knock. "Parker?" It was the giant of a man's voice. Why couldn't they leave so I could be alone? "Go away." I heard sounds on the other side of the door that sounded like he'd sat on the floor. "Come out and talk to us." I pressed my forehead against my knee harder, trying to ignore the giant bearded intercourse god. "Or, just talk to me. We're worried about you." My chest seized as I forced myself to take a deep breath. Irrational anger surged inside of me. Why didn't they understand I didn't want them here? "You don't even know me." The sound of his deep chuckle sent a warm wave of desire through me. Stupid hormones. "Twenty-four hours ago, I would have agreed with you. After last night, I feel like I know you on a level most others never will." What did I do last night? I still couldn't remember what I'd done. I swore to myself I'd never drink again. "It was all lies." "Why are you trying to push us away? What would be so wrong with letting someone in to help for once?" Memories of my parents’ fighting came back to me. It was my tenth birthday. When my dad found out my mom bought a cake for my birthday, he'd attacked her. Everything was a blur until he'd pinned her against the wall. She held a knife to his crotch and threatened him. He'd left and never returned that day. My mind shut down, preventing me from thinking about it any longer. "Because I can't afford to pay you and no one does anything out of the kindness of their heart." I couldn't keep the sarcastic tone out of my voice as I said it. "Parker, you're missing a vital part of this dynamic." Silently, I chanted over and over for him to not use the word mates again. It couldn't be real. Paranormal romance novels weren't real... neither were shifters nor the perfect person walking into my life and devoting themselves to me. That was a fairytale, not reality. "Mates. Just to see a smile cross your lips, I'd clean this entire property. Throw in the others, and we'd do anything to see you happy." He tapped something on the door. "I can scent your annoyance through the door." "Wait a minute... you said all of you. That's not how mates work. Fated mates are two people, not an entire harem." I hissed as I shook my head. "This conversation is ridiculous because it's not real." Silence filled the space between us for several long seconds. "You really want us to leave?" My stomach twisted at his words. We just met, and yet he sounded devastated as he asked the question. I silently cursed myself for causing the change I heard. If I was a better person, I would say something else. "Yes." "Fine, we'll leave, but only on one condition. Buss each one of us. Then, if you feel nothing, we'll walk out of here without protest." I banged my head on my knee. That wouldn't work. They weren't even in the room with me and I already felt things. No way could I buss even one of them without having a reaction. "No." "Is that because you already know what I'm saying is true, or are you just being stubborn?" Before I could think about why he had said it, I jumped up and threw the door open to glare at him. "Are you always a jerk?" The confidence disappeared as I looked up into his eyes. He grabbed the doorknob and pulled it closed behind me, pushing me against him in the process. His gaze locked on mine as he lowered his head until we were almost bussing. "Never, but I'm not above riling you up to help give you the boost you need to confront a situation with confidence." Now that he was so close, I couldn't remember why I'd locked myself in the bathroom. Everything around us disappeared except the door his hard body pressed me against. His free hand caressed my cheek. "Can you genuinely tell me you don't feel the bond trying to form between us?" I clamped my jaw closed. If I didn't admit it out loud, then it wasn't real, but he was right. I could feel a... connection to him and the others. It didn't make sense, and I might not want it, but was most definitely there. His lips brushed against mine ever so slightly, sending a wave of fire through me. I gripped the straps of his black tactical vest to pull him closer, but he didn't budge. He chuckled as he moved from my lips to my ear. "Mate, if I buss you, I won't stop until you're mine. It might not be today or tomorrow, but I will claim you and make you mine." "And if I say we're not mates?" "Your mouth might lie, but your body and soul can't." I heard him inhale deep at my neck. "I can smell your need to claim me. It fills my senses until it's all I can think about. I've just found you and already you've consumed my entire world." It was bizarre, but I completely understood what he meant. Somewhere deep down inside of me, the idea of kicking out even one of them left me feeling raw. Six mates... and one of them was a woman. I'd known I was attracted to both genders from a young age, but I'd always locked that part of me away. My mom flipped at the idea of me dating a single man. I couldn't even fathom how hard she was rolling over in her grave at having six lovers. It was so much to process. "Come on, let's go back to the others." His voice pulled me back to reality. "Not yet." Suddenly, I didn't want to move. When I felt his body pull back, I gripped his vest tighter. My gut twisted as I decided to throw a lifetime of caution out the window. "buss me." He growled deep in his chest as his hands slid down my sides until he cupped my hips. A squeal of surprise escaped me as he lifted me up, then held me against his chest as he pressed me against the door. "You're mine... ours." Then his buss consumed me, mind, body, and soul. It felt as if our life forces bonded together. The mere thought of letting go of this man became too much. It was in that moment I realized I'd screwed up. I'd never be able to give him up, or the others, without ripping my own heart from my chest. I regretted so much in my life. What was one more? I sank my hands into his hair, gripping it at the roots, and tilted his head back. Our buss broke. A smug satisfaction slid through me when I realized he was breathing as hard as I was, but I wasn't done throwing out stupid rules my mother had forced on me. I pulled his head until I'd exposed his neck. The edge of a tribal tattoo peeked out under his shirt. I trailed the tip of my tongue along the dark lines, then bussed a trail along his neck. He moved until only one hand cupped my hips. His other hand caressed the back of my neck, urging me to do whatever I wanted to him. I tightened my legs around his waist, lifting myself higher as my busses moved along the edge of his beard. "That is hot." Another man's voice made it through my lusty fog. "Yeah, can't wait until it's my turn." Someone else said. I pulled back and realized my five other mates were watching us make out. All of them had a hunger in their eyes I'd never seen before...

I want to thank Meatcanyon and Wendigoon for starting Creepcast. I've played around with writing horror, and here is my first short story. I will post it for free in a few other places to see what people think. Please enjoy!
A Hike to Remember
By R.L. Oclen
Chapter 1
A woman sits with hastily pulled-up fire-red hair in the waiting room of the state patrol station. The procedurally sterile off-white walls and decade-old magazines do little for comfort. With her head hanging low, her shoulders pushing forward, and her boots rapidly tapping on the floor, something has to give.
"Please just let her be okay." The woman growls as a pair of officers come in from the field. The officers' demeanors quickly change when they see the familiar face.
"Tabitha, did Officer Nichols call you?" one of the state patrol officers asked sympathetically.
"Yes, he asked me to come in and pick up a few things," Tabitha said, shooting back a muted look.
" I'll let them know you're here." The officer said, nodding to Tabitha as they passed the security door. Tabitha leaned back against the hard plastic chair, staring blankly into the fluorescent light. She had done this dance in the macabre repeatedly over the past month. The last image of her younger sister, Lisa, still burned in her mind. Tabitha had always been protective over her younger sister after their parents died. A pang of guilt shoots through her chest as she thinks about her and Lisa's argument.
"Tabitha Hymm, Officer Nichols is ready for you."
"Okay," she stood up, shaking off her guilt, and followed the officer back. The familiar surroundings of the state patrol station blurred as Tabitha stared forward. She followed the officer as they came to a rustic wooden office door, which was embossed with "Officer Nichols."
The escorting officer turns the old brass door knob. "Sir, I have Tabitha Hymm here." A grizzled West Virginia Highway State Patrol veteran sits behind the desk and nods. The escorting officer steps aside, pushing the door open as Tabitha pushes past him and slumps in the awaiting chair like so many times before. An uncomfortable relationship had formed between the two, born out of necessity and duty.
"Cup of coffee?"
"No thanks. Let's just cut to the chase. You don't have anything new?"
The worn laugh lines and Officer Nichols's face flattens. His eyebrows contour sympathetically as he shakes his head.
"Tabitha, I don't have anything else new for you. I wanted to give you the clothes returned from the lab." Her face darkened at the same response she had heard many times.
"As we discussed two weeks ago, there is nothing new and no signs of struggle or foul play," Officer Nichols said while placing a box marked evidence on the table and sliding it forward. Tabitha began to weep at the realization of Lisa's clothes in front of her. In a coordinated queue, Officer Nichols brought out a box of tissues. Reluctantly, Tabitha took a few moments to unblur her vision.
"How does someone stop their car in the middle of the Remington West Virginia State Park, lock it, and then walk into the woods?" Officer Nichols clasped his hands together and sighed at her worn question.
"Tabitha, I wish I had an answer for why your sister stopped her car in the woods and simply walked off. We're still going through her cell phone, but no signs exist that anyone forced her. On that Tuesday morning, she pulled over to the side of the road, secured her car, and walked away." Officer Nichols said empathetically.
Tabitha became stoic at the same explanation she had heard many times before. " So what next?"
"You should go back to Ohio, and I'll contact you as soon as I have more information." She winced at Officer Nichols's words. Reality began to pull at her that bills and work wouldn't wait much longer.
"If I leave, she's gone for good."
" You staying won't bring her back." Officer Nichols said sympathetically.
" So is that it? She's just gone?"
" Tabitha, I'll be honest with you. In cases like this… when people do things like this. Recovery is harder in the spring due to the weather and the animals. You know her mental condition better than I do. I can't explain why she did what she did. But until I find a solution, a suicide note, some intention, or body. She's not here. Tabitha, I'm-"
" Don't you fucking say sorry!" Tabitha stood up, screaming at Officer Nichols, throwing the plastic chair backward against the wall. " I should just look for myself."
"No!" Officer Nichols said momentarily, gripping the desk as his face hardened, then relaxed. Tabitha was caught off guard by Officer Nichols, who was normally composed. "Tabitha, I know this is unbearable. I've sat on this side of the desk and had these conversations. Trust me; I need you to be safe if I need your help later."
Tabitha nods, knowing Officer Nichols is right. She reaches down, picks up the evidence box of her sister's belongings, and leaves.
" Tabitha, if you're heading home, don't stop your car; just keep driving." Tabitha stops to look at Officer Nichols, feeling an eeriness to his words.
" Goodbye, Officer Nichols," Tabitha said as she closed the rustic wooden door behind her. She counted the tiles as she exited the West Virginia State Patrol Station. Placing her sister's belongings carefully in the back seat of her Jeep, Tabitha then sat momentarily behind the steering wheel, staring at the emblem. The familiar numbness washed over Tabitha as she pushed the start button. She pulled onto the highway, driving to the motel that had been home for the last month or so. Muted pop music accented the drive back as her mind raced with questions. Once inside the two-and-a-half-star motel room, Tabitha sat her sister's belongings on the corner table, crumbled onto the bed, and cried.
***
Tabitha wiped the steam from the slightly spotted mirror above the bathroom sink. The hot water from the shower felt good and loosened some of the stress from her body. Looking back at her, Tabitha's face was framed by damp curls around her shoulders. Her face marked the stress of the past month. Frowning, she examined the bags under her eyes; sleep had to come tonight. Walking into the living area, She changed into her favorite gym shorts and oversized sleep shirt. The alarm on her phone flashed "7:00 am," so she could drive home five hours after breakfast.
Tabitha hated feeling comfortable in this once strange room, but falling asleep was getting easier now. Her eyes closed slowly as the ceiling fan droned evenly. At first, nothing came in her dreams, but she let her guard down and slipped further into sleep.
As she dreamed of floating overhead like a bird of prey, Tabitha soared over the vast Remington National Park. The high noon sun bore down on the crisp woods, perfectly contrasting sky and forest. The heat of the sun felt good on her feathers. Distant cries rang out through the dream-like forest, catching her attention. Tabitha tilted her wings toward the screams, feeling a sense of familiar curiosity.
She now recognized the sobs and cries for help as she flew closer, her sharp eyes locked on her sister leaning against a large oak tree. She glided overhead without care, examining the situation below. Lisa clung to the tree, her eyes darting back and forth, scanning upwards. Lisa's face reflected desperation, looking for help in any direction. Tabitha lazily circles Lisa several times before perching on a sturdy branch higher in one of the oak trees. She watched Lisa intently with hunger. She bellowed deeply, hearing the unnatural sound she made, catching Lisa's eyes. Lisa's expression changed; she became calm, almost uncaring, as she stared back at Tabitha's form. Hunger grew exponentially in Tabitha as she spread her large wings. Her large eyes gaze down at Lisa before diving straight for her sister.
Tabitha jolts awake to the alarm on her phone flashing "7:23 AM." She breathes in sharply, shaking off the last horrible thoughts from the reoccurring nightmare. The strange details become more vivid each time. The lingering memories of folk stories her mother told sat in the back of her mind. In those stories, the dead would reach out in dreams as a matter of warning. Leaning back on the headboard, she searched for the advice her psychologist gave her. During their last session, Dr. Ryland explained dreams are a form of self-actualization of guilt. He told Tabitha that it was natural to feel responsible when losing a loved one in this manner.
Tabitha grumbled, lightly running her hands through her red hair; she pushed everything to the back of her mind. "Get it together!" She grumbled to herself. She pushed herself off the bed and got ready to leave. It was going to be a long trip home, and the only thing she could do now was leave things in the authorities' hands. Packing up was pretty easy since she only cycled through the outfits she brought. The local laundromat must have made a small fortune off her. Tabitha took one last look at the box of Lisa's belongings before throwing them in her duffle bag. She was thankful she didn't have to spend another night in this room.
***
Tabitha sat behind the wheel, waiting for the 90's model minivan to finish their order so she could grab a breakfast burrito on the way out. Considering the situation, the Deer Stop Family Restaurant did have a good breakfast. Finally, pulling up to the 70-style drive-in board, Tabitha rolled off the order she had been accustomed to. " I'll take a large iced tea with the double breakfast burrito meal and hash browns, please."
" Would you like some happy hot sauce with that?"
" That's fine, and a few ketchup packets as well."
" Your total is $8.79. Please pull around."
She pulled around to her window, flashed her debit card, got the receipt, and waited for her food. Luckily, the young woman serving her wasn't very talkative in the morning. The last thing she wanted was a conversation about the weather or meaningless small talk.
" Here's your large iced tea and breakfast meal. Ketchup and happy hot sauce are inside."
" Thanks," Tabitha said while mustering her best fake smile. The woman only smiled and nodded as the service window automatically closed. She pulled into the parking lot and dug into breakfast. Turning the radio to the weather, Tabitha sat back and enjoyed her meal. The local DJ read through the headlines, making nonpartisan comments about politics and grumbling about improving the economy. Tabitha powered through the updates of the "out-of-state woman" who'd gone missing. It was nice that the local radio station gave Lisa's name, description, and a missing person's number for sightings or leads. Tabitha even interviewed with the local news and radio stations, hoping it would bring Lisa home. But she soon found all it brought was a sorrowful look from the locals as she interacted with them in her day-to-day life.
Finishing the last of her hash browns, Lisa wadded up everything in the paper bag and threw it in the back seat. The 9 AM weather report said it was nothing but clear skies and sun the rest of the week. Tabitha flipped the radio over to the greatest hit station, pulled out of the parking lot, and began her trip home. She memorized the roads, every bend and turn in the early weeks as she frantically looked for Lisa. There's something hypnotic about the trees: the way they flow together. The trees' green tops and the oak trees' wide trunks were a relaxing view. Tabitha enjoyed the lazy s-curves of the road, bending and winding around the hills and the trees. The occasional farmhouse or field dotted the sides of the road as she made her way to the main highway.
The blur of a semi-truck snapped Tabitha's attention as she pulled up to the mouth of the highway. She had four and a half hours ahead of her, which would be a long ride. Tabitha pulled onto the highway and picked up speed, noting sparse traffic. She relaxed into her seat, letting her gaze gloss over the blur of green foliage. Without warning, Tabitha caught a large shadow from the corner of her left eye. When she registered the black feathery form, Tabitha tensed up and slammed on the brakes as it swooped across the vehicle's hood. Quickly, she pulled the car safely off the road. She couldn't determine exactly what it was, but it was bigger than any bird she'd seen. It was a bird, right? Tabitha turned off her Jeep and grabbed the keys and cell phone. Standing before the Jeep, she looked over the grill to see if she made contact with the entity.
Bewildered, she scanned the tree line, spotting something in the distance. Sitting in the clearing of the large oak forest was an enormous black owl. It stared intently at Tabitha with bright, shiny yellow eyes. She pushed the lock button on her keys, causing the jeep to beep securely. She turned, looking across the open field, an enormous black owl perched in the upper branches of an old oak tree. Each step she took away from the road piqued her curiosity. Soon, Tabitha stood in the middle of the open field, staring intently into the eyes of the enormous owl.
The horn of a passing semi-truck blared, pulling Tabitha's attention away from the mysterious large creature. She looked back and saw that she had walked farther away from the Jeep than she had thought. She glanced back to the forest line only to see the enormous owl was deeper into the woods than before. She narrowed her vision to find the two large, bright yellow eyes staring back. Had it moved? The day's stress, care, and worry suddenly poured out of Tabitha. It was replaced by only curiosity and overbearing tranquility. She warmly smiled for the first time in months as her feet pulled her further into the woods.
Chapter 2
The tug of gravity pulls Tabitha to her senses as her body reacts, falling forward. Her arms thrust forward, bracing for impact. Water rushes around her face as she struggles to get her bearings. Quickly, Tabitha pushed herself up in the ankle-high stream she fell in. The haze slowly clears from her mind as she stares at the muddy water. The dull ache throbs up her legs. Tabitha can smell the sweat from her clothes. Her face contorted in panic as she quickly stood up in the water, looking for her cell. Thankfully, the device was still in her pocket, dry and unscathed.
"One o'clock. How can that be?" Tabitha says, slowly looking up from the screen to see the vast, dense West Virginia forest encompassing her view. She shakes her head back and forth with disbelief. A smile gently spreads across her face, with the last bit of tranquility leaving her body. How did I get out here? Her breathing becomes faster as her pulse begins to quicken. I'm in the forest. I'm all alone—just like Lisa!
"NO, NO, NO, NO! THIS FUCKING CAN'T BE HAPPENING TO ME!" Tabitha screams into the void of trees. Her eyes well up with tears as she crumbles to her knees, gripping her phone tightly to her chest. Her sobs ring out through the thick oak trees. Her breath slows a little as she regains her composure. She begins to search her mind for anything. What is the last thing I can remember? The image of the black shadow crossing her vision while driving flashes into her mind.
"Okay, I got out of the Jeep, the…then what?" Tabitha says, trying to refresh her memories. She thinks her memory is not just gone; it's a black void in her mind. Complete blackness fills her mind right after remembering locking the Jeep and then turning to see the…
"Fuck I saw something. What was it!" Tabitha says, frustrated with her mind. She knew there must be a logical reason she was out here. Officer Nichols warned her not to go looking for her sister. She wasn't stupid; she just said that as a last-ditch effort to get him to do anything. Now I'm here.
"Run!" Tabitha heard Lisa's voice in her ear. Before she could turn around, she heard a loud bellowing coming from overhead. Fear shot down her back, reminding her of the nightmares she had over the past month. She shot forward full bore as something crashed to the ground behind her. Glancing back as she ran, a black mass of feathers convulsed between the broken branches of the trees. Its slick black feathers rippled across its surface as its bones crackled and flesh tore. Its body contorted and twisted from the shape of an owl to something bigger.
"Run, Tabby! Don't let it catch you!" Tabitha pushed forward, hearing Lisa's scream beside her face. Her breath burned in her chest, and she moved past the old oak trees bent over the creek bed. Her feet slammed rapidly, splashing along the side of the creek. Another loud bellow comes from behind as the trees bend and break to the force behind her. A small opening in the rocky creek bed catches her sight from the left. She dives into the crevasses, not caring where the fathoms lead. Tabitha tumbles in the pitch black, taking scrapes and sharp jabs from the rocks as she tumbles further into the void.
She finally tumbles to a stop on the sandy, wet floor of the cave. Her body aches from the sudden burst of exhaustion. The cool water running around her body from the creek is soothing despite her bumps and bruises. Pushing herself up, she scoots out of the water. Feeling her way forward, she finds a dry spot to collect herself. Quickly pushing her hand into her pocket, she finds her phone undamaged.
The sound of footsteps pushing against the creek fills the void around Tabitha as the light steps move closer to each other up the underground creekbed. She slowly removes her cell from her pocket and then shines the camera light toward the sound. A pair of scratched and bruised pale bare legs hold up a frail form in front of her in the creek. She wears the darkness as a shroud with nothing else to clothe her. Tabitha froze, not wanting to shine the light further in the pale form before her.
"Tabby, turn your light off. You need to save your battery." Tabitha turned off the light and then rushed forward, embracing Lisa—the how or why didn't matter, only the now. The pale form hugged her tightly. Tabitha felt her cold, bare skin. The darkness couldn't hide the feeling of the marks across her back and torso.
"Lisa, I'm-"
"Hush! I don't have much time. This wasn't your fault! I'm with Mom and Dad now. You have to survive, Tabby! Listen. Wait until the sun shines through the cracks, making a trail out. Follow it down the creek until you come to the opening. You'll see a large hill you hike up for a cell signal. And remember…If you can't see it… It can't hurt you. I love you-"
Tabitha stumbled forward before catching herself. The void in front of her arms was only filled by cool air. She looked up and noticed a faint glimmer of light pushing through the ceiling. She sat down, relaxing against the limestone wall of the cave, waiting for the trail of light to form.
***
After a few hours, the light shining through the cracks of the cave ceiling was bright enough to lead Tabitha to the other side. She stepped onto the creek bed, thankful for the sun hanging lower in the sky. Scanning the sky, Tabitha saw only a few clouds. The foothills of Appalachia backdropped the forest as she scanned for the hill. Her eyes found the trail leading up the steady slope of an impressive hill. The top of the hill was bare. Part of the hill must have sheared off in a landslide, leaving the top void of trees and a jagged cliff face. Tabitha started her hike up the back of the hill. She was careful to stay under the heavy canopy of the old trees, hopefully avoiding the creature's eyes.
She did her best to quiet her mind while hiking up the trail. Come on, almost to the top, then I can call 911, she replayed repeatedly in her mind. Her adrenaline made up for the lack of food since morning. She drank some water from a clean spot in the creek. She was placing her bet on rescue rather than worrying about the water.
Leaning against one of the trees, Tabitha took out her cell and measured the signal.
"Damn it, nothing!" She swore under her breath. She listened nervously and cautiously peered her head out from the tree line. Standing at the tree line, the cell phone still had a low signal. She pushed her anxiety down with a swallow and slowly stepped forward onto the bare rock. Tabitha was now out in the open. She walked with the cell phone pointed upwards, measuring the signal. Within three feet of the cliff face, her signal bar punched up to full. Tabitha began to punch in the numbers just as a pair of large yellow eyes appeared. She felt her legs become weak, and her vision blurred as the creature snared her in its gaze.
Tabitha ducked, missing the giant owl's claws as it swooped for her. She squinted her eyes shut, momentarily breaking the hold of the infernal beast as it crashed to the ground, tumbling down the path of old trees. On her hands and knees, she tucked the dialed phone back into her pocket. She heard the creature's loud bellowing, followed by the snapping of bone and flesh ripping. It was changing its shape to finish her off.
Tabitha tried to get up, but the flash of its eyes did something to her. Her legs were numb, her stomach was in knots, and she could barely put a few thoughts together.
"If you can't see it, it can't hurt you." Tabitha heard clearly in her left ear. She quickly pushed herself into a sitting position and fumbled for the key chain in her right pocket. Pulling the long chain of keys, luck charms, and keepsakes, her father's Swiss army knife dangled at the end. She slowly opened the half-inch blade. Her body wholeheartedly rejected her plan and tried to fight her. Every internal warning system sounded as her body fought against her as she brought the blade against the corner of her left eye.
She didn't know if she could do it until the creature bellowed in her direction. With one quick motion, the half-inch blade sliced across her left eye. The world dimmed and then went black on her left side. Behind her, the beast's thundering gallop was getting closer. Tabitha plunged herself into total darkness with the last bit of her strength. Her hand gripped tightly around the bloody knife as she folded forward onto the ground. She could feel herself weeping blood. She squinted, doing her best to stem the tide of blood loss.
A large feathered paw drove into Tabitha's right side, flipping her onto her back. She lay still as the hulking creature stood over her. It remained motionless, and Tabitha was confused about why it didn't move or bite her. Then she started to giggle, just a little at first. Then, laughing madly into the creature's face as it growled back at her. She could not see it; she couldn't see anything. Her mind couldn't be eaten!
The creature roared into Tabitha's face while plunging one of its sharp claws into her shoulder. Tabitha screamed in pain, slashing the knife downward. The blade hit something soft, and she ripped the blade down, rending whatever she had hit on the abomination. A bright yellow, foul-smelling liquid gushed in a torrent over Tabitha's face. She turned to cough, having swallowed a portion of it. The creature reared back, squealing in pain. Its hind leg came down hard on Tabitha's leg, snapping her tibia. She jerked her leg up, causing the creature to tumble forward and fall over the edge of the cliff side.
Tabitha heard the creature crash below at the base of the hill. A large dead tree speared the creature through its chest. Tabitha could hear the labored whines of the creature as its cries became weak and slowed. A wave of sickness hit her as she rolled over and vomited. The foul smell drenched her. She did her best to focus, reaching into her pocket and pulling out the phone. By memory, she typed in the unlock pin. She held her breath and placed her thumb where the call button should be.
She could hear the call being made then, "911. What is your emergency?"
"Please help me! A bear has attacked me, and I can't see. I think I am on a hill."
"Ok, ma'am, stay with me! Do you know where you are located?"
"No, I'm lost. Please send help."
"It's okay. Stay with me on the phone, and I'll use the cell signal to try to find you."
"I'm on top of one of the hills. I think I am lying on a bare roc-" Tabitha slipped unconscious with the cell still tightly in her hand. Her body began to tremble and convulse.
"Ma'am! Ma'am! Stay with me. I have help on the way."
Chapter 3
A young man in military fatigues frantically compiles images and reconnaissance data from his drone feed. Confirming his hunch, he commands the winged surveillance drone to make a hard left and send a live video feed. His eyes widened as he saw a large owl-shaped shadow crash onto the top of a hill. He watches in awe as the sleek black owl twists and shifts into something much larger, like a grizzly. As the drone turns, he sees a woman at the cliff's edge trying to steady yourself on her hands and knees.
He bolts up from the command module, jotting down the drone's coordinates on one of the printouts. The drab government-issued office motif for the watch station blurs in the corner of his eye as he rushes down the hallway to the watch commander's office.
"Sir, recon has eyes on AMOS! And it's feeding!" the man said, swinging the heavy wooden door open. He took the hastily compiled file and pushed it forward to the commanding officer.
An older, tanned man quickly stands, reaching for the files. His brow furls, seeing his charge is awake. "Keep eyes on it! Go Adams!" The young man nods, turning on his heel and bolting for the drone command module. As his office door slams shut from the subordinate officer, he grabs his headset and frantically dials the closest military outpost to the coordinates.
"Hello, Sergeant Klein; this is Agent Smith of Black Watch outpost 7948! Shadow is active, code Alpha, Mike, Oscar, Sierra. The coordinates and data package have been sent. A civilian is on the ground; deploy strike-and-rescue ASAP.
"We'll be up in five, Agent Smith! The line cuts as Agent Smith closes out the call on his headset and rushes to the door. The normally quiet watch station buzzes alive, with personnel flooding the central command station. The background echoes resource allocation calls, frantic typing, and the hum of cold computers warming up.
"Adams, get our eyes back on Amos!"
"Coming back around in 30 seconds." Thirty sets of eyes stare at the three giant screens, anxiously waiting for the drone feed to clear the bank of trees. The camera clears the tre top to see the giant feathered grizzly rear back slinging its massive head away from its prey. Its large yellow right eye spews bright yellow liquid all over the red-haired woman and the cliff face. The giant feathered grizzly missteps, crushing the woman's leg and causing the creature to tumble over the cliff face.
"Fuck!" Agent Smith yells in horror as he watches AMOS fall four stories, impaling a sharp, 3-meter-tall log lodged in the boulders. The command center freezes wide-eyed at the flailing dying creature on screen. Agent Smith pulls his cell out quickly and dials.
"Klein, Scrub the current request! AMOS is down! Switch to rescue and harvest now!
"What, someone took out AMOS?"
"YES! It's at the bottom of the cliff, bleeding out essence! The woman is covered in it as well. Clean as much of it off her as possible before you take her to the ER.
"Understood!"
Agent Smith, in a rage, slings his phone straight forward, connecting with Private Adams's skull. Adams flinches at the sudden impact of the hard plastic and covers his head. Agent Smith grabs the table in front of him and flips it over, sending the computer equipment crashing to the government-issued tiled floor.
"A two-year cycle gone! All that essence is gone! Now I have to wait another 24 months for AMOS to resurrect!" Agent Smith screams, causing the rest of the staff to recoil away in fear.
"Jones!" Agent Smith says sternly, turning to a petite woman on his left. She stares at him, pleading.
"Yes Sir?'
"Get Officer Nichols on my office line. That fuck up has some explaining. He should have told us AMOS was awake."
"Right away!" Jones quickly sits back down and begins dialing Nichols, thankful she doesn't have to deal with Agent Smith further. The command center quickly shifts gears as Agent Smith returns to his office.
***
Two Weeks later…
"Tabitha… Tabitha… This is Doctor Wilhelm. Wake up." The kind older gentleman said as they gently nudged Tabitha in her hospital bed.
"Where am I?" Tabitha asked, waking from what felt like years of sleep. She sat up, the world still pitch black, but an odd sense of the world around her seemed to hum just behind her eyes.
"You're in the hospital, dear; you scared us. Do you remember anything?" He said as he sat down on the side of her bed.
Tabitha thought for a moment the last parts after she slashed her eyes were a blur. She remembers people yelling and the sound of two or three helicopters over her. " No, it's really all just a blur."
"Well, it's probably for the best. You had some very serious injuries. The first night, we honestly didn't think you would make it. Then…" The doctor trailed off with a concerned expression, not knowing how to explain things further.
Tabitha felt his pulse quicken somehow. She didn't understand it but fully felt or sensed the doctor beside her. She sensed the two other nurses standing at the end of the bed. Her body didn't hurt. She felt great. She felt hungry.
"Doctor, you said had. What happened to my injuries?" She said calmly, trying not to startle the old doctor further.
"Well, Tabitha, it's the closest thing to a miracle I've ever seen. You had violent seizures from the minute you hit the entrance of the ER. We couldn't even set your leg. The medications we gave you had a minimal effect, and you thrashed so much that we had to restrain you. Then, the early morning check-in found you in a deep sleep. All but your eyes were completely healed. So we switched gears to support care and treated your eyes the best we could." He said, watching her reaction.
Tabitha leaned back in her bed, taking in the wild account. "Do you know how I healed so quickly?"
"What happened to you is beyond all scientific reason. A miracle is the only way the staff and I can explain it. I know you have been through a lot, but I want to check your eyes."
"Thank you for all your help, Doctor Wilhelm." She said, sitting up in bed.
"You are most welcome, dear. Now I am going to unwrap your eye-dressing. Hold still, please." he said as he reached up and pulled on the bandage tape. Tabitha felt a quick tug and felt the bandages loosen from around her head. The doctor slowly unwrapped the bandages. The doctor's brow wrinkled as he examined the two large black scabs covering Tabitha's eyes.
"Tell me if this hurts at all, ok?"
"Yes, doctor." She relaxes as the doctor's gloved fingers pass over the scab. He pushes and gently tugs at the side of one, and it starts to lift. He pulls on the scab more, and Tabitha begins to sense the light as it hits her eyelid.
"Oh, I can sense the light, Doctor Wilhelm!" She said, smiling.
"Wonderful! Nurse Allen, please hand me some saline solution. I think a little water will loosen these right up. Hold still; this may feel cold," he said as he reached for the solution. She felt the cool liquid flush over the left eye, then the right. The scabs fell away with a gentle tug from the doctor. She could see the light shine through her eyelids. She grinned widely, happy to have some form of sight left.
"Please open your eyes for me," he said as he sat back on the bed. Tabitha slowly opened her eyes. The flood of light was almost too much, causing her to squint. After a few moments, she adjusted to the fluorescent lights. Three figures began to take shape in front of her. First, the distinguished older features of Doctor Wilhelm came into view quickly, followed by the brunette and blonde younger nurses standing at the end of the bed. Suddenly, her vision snapped into place, crisp and clear.
"I can see perfectly! This is amazing! Thank you, Doctor Wilhem!" she said, turning to look directly into his eyes, but he stared back at her unmovingly.
"Doctor Wilhelm?" she said as her expression became more worried. Doctor Wilhelm just sat staring, intensely focused on her eyes. His expression was overbearingly calm. She glanced at the nurses, rigidly staring back at her with trapped, calm expressions. Doctor Wilhelm began to twitch slightly. It traveled from the base of his spine out to his limbs, finally convulsing.
"Doctor Wilhelm, are you okay?" Tabitha yelled as the doctor began to have a seizure and fell on top of her bed.
"Help Him!" She screamed at the two nurses only to see both of them crumble to the tiled floor. One of them bashed her head off the bed frame. Tabitha recoils back from Doctor Wilhelm in terror as he starts foaming at the mouth. She climbs over the bed rail and hits the tiled concrete floor with a thud. Her adrenaline surges as she bolts for the door, looking for help.
At the entrance of her hospital room, she sees another nurse leaving the adjacent room. "Please, my doctor and staff need help!" As the male nurse turns to see Tabitha, he suddenly goes stiff before collapsing into a violent seizure, spilling his cart over with him.
"What's happening!" Tabitha screams, thinking something is in the air, or everyone has come down with something. A pair of security guards round the corner, hearing the screams and commotion.
"Ma'am, are yo-" The guard freezes mid-stride as he makes eye contact with Tabitha. Both men start to convulse and topple over, thrashing violently on the hard tile.
"No, no, no, no!" Tabitha yells as she darts into the women's bathroom, a few doors up the hall. She runs in, terrified of the situation. She approaches one of the sinks, bracing herself against the cool porcelain. Her stomach turns, and she dry heaves in the sink. She steadies herself while turning on the cold water. Leaning in, she takes a drink. As she looks up, a glint of two yellow eyes catches her. Tabitha stumbles backward on reflex. Then, she sees her reflection in the mirror. Two completely bright yellow eyes stare back at Tabitha. She screams at herself in the mirror, not feeling hungry anymore.
The end.
I will

Kaemyn Farleigh is writing her first book series but struggles with names. Given the descriptions of her book and characters, help Kaemyn figure out the most fitting names for her characters.
-- Premise: In a world where humans and the faery tale creatures theyve often been told to fear live together, a half-vampire detective must rely on her connections to the occults around her to stop a serial killer before they reignite the race war between humans and occult creatures.
-- Main character is a woman of colour whose mother is was a very powerful vampire heiress that forsaked her throne to marry her father. The oldest of three, the MC is naturally responsible and has a very strong intuition. She is in her late twenties and has a style and swagger similar to Wesley Snipes in the "Blade" series. If she ever got the chance to cast a movie of hee book, she would cast Georgina Campbell for her MC.
-- Main character's partner is a male full-blooded vampire. Though he is technically a middle class vampire, he likes the finer things in life like AB- blood and Baroque-style architecture/design. He has dark hair, dark eyes, weara glasses, and dresses very properly. She thinks hell be German or French and that Michael Fassbender, who plays young Magneto in the X-Men movies would play him.
-- The first victim, a blonde female college student in her early 20s with short hair and watery blue eyes. She was studying mathematics and statisics before she was killed. She was the only child of her mother and the youngest of her father. Described as naïve and book smart, she loved alternative rock music, action and horror movies, hiking with her best friend, and going to the pier where her body was found.
-- The second victim, a Japanese immigrant who moonlighted at a bar mainly frequented by giants and ogres. She was in night school, and had a young daughter named Ayrena who was being raised by her parents the night of her murder. The girl has long hair dyed orange, large black eyes, and typically wore sparkly, theatrical make-up. She is described as being bold, nurturing, and blunt by those that knew her.
-- Ogre who is like a father to the second victim. He is understanding and forthcoming with information with the MC a out the death and the whereabouts of him and all his employees. Kaemyn is modeling him after Michael Clarke Duncan and Bernie Mac.
-- The third victim, a young freckled brunette who worked as a preschool teacher. She had an unpaid dept to the King of the Fae. Despite her debt, she was seen as a nice person who was a talented athlete [at rugby] good with kids, though mischievous and a bit of a kleptomaniac. She and her boyfriend, Branden, were set to get married in a few months.
-- The King of the Fae, who is a tall, skinny, ghostly white creature with large cerulean wings and blood red eyes. He has long black fingernails and a Scandinavian accent, though most Scandinavian fae arent vitriolic like him so the MC suspects the accent is fake [and perhaps even his name; Kaemyn is undecided but is open to names for both scenarios] and hes really Siberian. He is elusive yet charming and confident that he can talk his way out of anything.
-- Brother of the King of the Fae, who is a minor character that is having an affair with the third victim. Hes subservient to his brother, though hes not a bad person despite being born into the life of crime. He helps the MC gather intel on the Fae because he wants to know who hurt his slain lover
-- In a twist, Kaemyn wants the culprit to be a gnome who initially was introduced as a low life who commits petty crimes and would sell people out for a penny if he could. She has no idea of anything else, except that the character has the same personality as DJ Qualls im most of his early movies.

I’m so certain that I’ve seen a movie where a character looks almost exactly like him, and I’m positive it’s not any of the other characters he’s played (downton abbey, beauty and the beast, etc). I think they might have been some sort of villain (maybe an evil prince? unexpected twist villain situation?). The scruff, open jacket, blue eyes, hair and earrings are all what is hitting that annoying little spot where I recognize it but can’t put my finger on it. The only close person I can think of is Tom Felton, but that’s just not right and I don’t think he’s played anyone similar. I’m going CRAZY trying to find this guy and I’m starting to think I made it all up.

PC
Reddit Account: u/gengisan
Discord Tag: slizzard
Name and House: Carena Borrell
Age: 26
Cultural Group: Sisterman
Appearance: Tall as a man, broad shouldered, and shapely. Her complexion is sun kissed like that of a sailor, and her arms strong enough to pull her weight in their company. She has the mark of the sistermen between her fingers. Her hair is a raven black and worn shorter than most women of the island.
Delicate facial features, and a fondness for the fine fabrics and perfumes that flow through her Isles from the East maintain her air of nobility, though she is found in clothes fit for a deckhand as often as those befitting a noblewoman.
Trait: Mariner
Skill(s): Polearms, footwork, avaricious, shipwright, Navigator
Talent(s):Spearfishing, Swimming,
Negative Trait(s): N/A
Starting Title(s): Lady of Sisterton
Starting Location: starting hunt
Alternate Characters: Pacar Breakshore
AC
Name and House:Ser Pacar Breakshore
Age: 34
Cultural Group: Northman
Appearance: Tall and wirey, with a crooked nose. He has a gaunt face marred with pock marks and a kind, lopsided smile. His eyes bear subtle crows feet. His hair and beard are a mousey brown beginning to show the first strands of grey.
Trait: Steward
Skill(s): Axes, Chivalric, Logistician
Talent(s): Lutist, carouser
Negative Trait(s): N/A
Starting Title(s): Lord Consort of Sisterton
Starting Location: the hunt
Carena was raised in the ashes of Vhagar’s fury. When the dragon had come to the Three Sisters she had been but a child. The fire took the house of her overlords, as well as her father, mother, and nearly all of her other kin. She and her sister had only survived the burning of Sisterton due to her father’s foresight, sending them to sea in a fishing vessel before the battle began.
When she returned to shore, she found her home destroyed, and Sweetsister as well as the other islands thoroughly devastated.
Claiming legitimacy through her deceased mother’s line, and with scant other options, the child Carena was made Lady of the Three Sisters. A regency council was formed and swore a new oath to the Lords of Winterfell.
In the following years, the island was referred to in grim jest as ‘Sootsister’. Where the dragon’s breath had touched, even the buildings of stone had caught ablaze and crumbled. The Sunderlands’ old keep was destroyed entirely, reduced to blackened and twisted rubble atop its old perch over Sisterton’s harbor. It is said that only one in every ten buildings in Sisterton survived that day, and only those of stone. Breakwater itself was sundered by the dragonfire, though not destroyed entirely.
It was from what remained of the seat of the Borrells that the regency council convened each day before Corena would come of age. Consisting of what few powerful figures remained on Sweetsister as well as representatives of lords of the neighboring isles, it remained the guiding force behind the rebuilding of the island before Carena came into power.
The suffering did not end as the last embers faded. With their fields, storehouses, boats, and quays destroyed, famine followed. The council did what they could, buying grain and lumber from their neighbors to the north, but the first years following the scouring were a time of great hardship for peasant and noble alike.
As she grew up under the supervision of the regency council, gradually life returned to her home. She and her sister played games of foxes-and-moles in the ruins of the Sunderlands’ keep, and she learned to swim diving for guilder’s glass in the cold water of the town’s harbor. There along the old merchant’s row, the large windows of Myrish glass had warped and shattered out of the houses under the heat of Vhagar’s fire, before the pebbles on the harbor floor sanded them down to the gems she hunted as a child.
By her eighth nameday, the rebuilding of Breakwater was completed, and by then the same could be said about most of the surviving buildings in the town. Only the old castle of the Sunderlands remained ruined, shrinking as much of its masonry was used for repairs and new construction. It was said that every dwelling in Sisterton no matter how lowly had hearths made of ‘the Queen’s stones’. A squat, rotund tower that came to be known as ‘Marla’s Urn’ was built of warped, blackened stone facing the water on the hill they once ruled, replacing the more elegant lighthouse that had once adjoined the keep.
In the town and beyond, the land had slowly been resettled. The effort was driven mostly by surviving Sistermen. Land was scarce on the islands and second and third sons moved quickly at the opportunity to make a name for themselves. Northmen also came mostly from the lands that lay on the Bite, drawn in by the hope of opportunity in the wake of the Sistermen’s new pledge of loyalty to the Lords of Winterfell.
The council allowed these Northmen to marry the Sisterwomen left widowed by the dragonfire, with the same rights and privileges as the Sistermen who came from the other islands. It was only as a gesture of good will to their new liege that this was allowed, however. Opportunistic men of the Vale saw no such accommodation and were met with open hostility, as there was no love lost between them and the Sistermen.
She learned to fight alongside the other women of her generation, though Sisterwomen had not bore arms in the past, it was necessary after so many men had died. Carena could wield a spear just as well against a man as a seal, and was taught how to use a wrecker’s hook to sever tendons or rip a horseman from his saddle. She grew powerful with practice, and benefitted from her height as she grew older, standing at least a head above most women.
As soon as she was old enough, she took to the sea, learning to sail smaller vessels as well as command the warships of her house as they rebuilt the navy the Targaryens had burned.
When Carena reached her majority, the regency council disbanded, though many of the members settled into advisory positions doing much the same work as they had before. Soon after coming to power, Carena ordered the construction of a new keep near the site of the Sunderlands’ old castle. At the advice of her more superstitious subjects, who worried the souls that had been lost in the old keep could not rest, the old foundations and rubble were salvaged and brought to a new site, while the old keep was turned into a sept and godswood. The heart tree was one of the few on the island that had survived the fire, an ancient chestnut which had already earned a reputation from how its center survived while its branches burned away or charred.
With no parents left alive, she was left with the responsibility of choosing a husband. The decision to pick one of the ‘Sootmen’, newcomers to the island, was a tactical one. The man in question, however, was a favorite of Carena’s. Pacar Breakshore had been one of her regents when the council still ruled. A young, newly landed knight at the time, he had immigrated to the island with his father in one of the first waves of resettlement. The Breakshores had quickly grown to become one of the most prominent houses of Sootmen on the island, though they had remained landed knights. He was handier with a lute than his axe, and seen more often in the taverns and winesinks of Sisterton than the halls of Breakwater, but had a head for numbers and the favor of Carena.
Carena became mother to two children by Pacar, Faran and Mysa. When the new castle was completed in 23 AC, their family relocated and the title Lady of Breakwater was conferred to her sister, Dessa. The new keep was dubbed ‘The Claws’, and the occasion was celebrated with a tournament of a scale not seen since before the destruction of the Sunderlands.
Timeline:
9 BC - Pacar Breakshore is born to Demar and Alys Breakshore
1 BC - Carena is born to Guyard Borrell and Mysa Sunderland
2 AC - Dessa is born to Guyard and Mysa
2 AC - Guyard Borrell and the house’s retainers answer Marla Sunderland’s call to arms. While not all of the house was destroyed, as was the fate of their overlords, it was only a scant few that lived to see the next day. Guyard and Mysa perished in the dragonflame, as well as all of the Borrells of Talleaves and Fogstone.
3 AC - The regency council commences
4 AC - The Night Lamp shines again for the first time since the attack, having been badly damaged. This night, the sixth of the ninth moon, came to be known as the Day of Restoration, and is celebrated annually by peasants and nobles since.
7 AC - The rebuilding of Breakwater is completed
8 AC - A bastard daughter, Dena Tyde is fathered by Pacar Breakshore.
9 AC - Three seats on the council are granted to the Northern-born settlers, or ‘Sootmen’, so called because they blew in on the same winds that blew the soot and ash from the isles.
12 AC - Pacar Breakshore is given a position on the regency council.
12 AC - Pacar Breakshore fathers another bastard, Ademar Tyde.
15 AC - As Carena reaches her 16th nameday, the regency council is disbanded.
16 AC - Carena orders the construction of a new keep near the site of the Sunderlands’ old castle.
18 AC - Two moons after her 19th nameday, Carena and Pacar Breakshore marry.
19 AC - Carena’s first child by Pacar is born, a son, Faran.
22 AC - Carena has another child by Pacar, a daughter named Mysa.
23 AC - The new keep is completed, and dubbed ‘The Claws’.
Family

 Guyard Borrell (30 BC - 2 AC) Mysa Sunderland (22 BC - 2 AC) Carena Borrell (1 BC - m. Pacar Breakshore (9 BC - Faran Borrell (19 AC - Mysa Borrell (22 AC - Dessa Borrell (2 AC - 

Supporting Characters
Dessa Borrell (23) Boatswain - Sister of Carena, Lady of Breakwater Castle, Keeper of the Night Lamp, Shield of Sisterton
Loran Charcloak (54) Master at Arms- Commander of the Claws’ garrison, veteran of the Sunderlands’ rebellion
Dena Tyde (18) - Bastard daughter of Pacar Breakshore, lady in waiting to Carena.
Ademar Tyde (12) Bastard son of Pacar Breakshore, squire to Pacar.
Ser Doren Cobbledown (28) - Castellan of The Claws.
Maester Othell (60) - Maester of the Claws, from the Riverlands

This is part number 3 of my story of how I started to (and still am) dating my platoon leader. As I've said before, I'm on my way into the civilian sector after completing my contract with the Army, and Matt and I are still happily dating. As always, I'm open to feedback/critiques/polite constructive criticism. This is a fairly tame chapter with one of many "firsts" we've conquered as a couple. I recommend starting at the 1st chapter so you can get the whole story, or else you'll miss some descrptions/details. I've tried to be a little more detailed with the naughty bits, so I hope you all enjoy! ♡Avery
After spending a second night in Matt's bed, this time naked, with his cum leaking out of me following last night's massage turned naughty, I woke up looking like a hot mess. I caught a glimpse of myself in his bedside mirror and decided I had to run down to the car to get my well thought out overnight bag that somehow never actually made it into the house last night. I throw on some of Matt's gym shorts and a tee, leaving the discarded purple thong from last night's massage on his night stand. He seemed to like it, so why not leave him the souvenir right?
When I get back inside, my handsome hunk (yes, mine. He asked me out last night, still have butterflies!) Has gotten out of bed and has moved into the kitchen to fix breakfast for us. I told you he's a gentleman when he wants to be. Anyway, over breakfast he asks me if I'd like to go out on an actual date with him today. Nothing fancy, but a walk down along the river trail a few miles from his appartment after a coffee.
I'm super excited to hear that he wants actual dates, not just stuff we hide over at his appartment and I agree right away. I head upstairs and in a minute....or 30....I'm back downstairs in my favorite pale blue sundress with a cute print design, that fairly reasonably accentuated my toned butt, and shows off what cleavage my B cup breasts can produce.
He's clearly happy about my outfit when I come downstairs, as he looks me up and down. All through the car ride and coffee, he can't keep his hands off me and I love it! A hand around my waist as I go through a door he's held for me, gently holding my hand in line, or his fingers brushing my legs at the hem of my dress as he holds my hand while he drives. Our conversation is all over the place as we get to know eachother on a deeper level, and eventually it makes it's way to "experience ". As it turns out, we're both relatively inexperienced in terms of anything crazy but we have similar fantasies and things we'd want to try.
As we finish coffee and head out to the river, one of those "things we'd want to try" comes up again, and it seems as though we're headed somewhere that we might just pull it off. We both want to experiment with trying something in a public place. The trail along the river is relatively quiet....okay just about as private as you can get without actually going inside. But its outside and it's new and so I get a rush just thinking about fooling around with him out here. I'm definitely not brave enough to try actual sex out anywhere, but who knows, maybe I could have some fun out here?
We get out of the car and walk maybe a half mile down the trail without seeing anyone. Matt takes my hand and leads me off the trail and into the woods aways before pulling me close and kissing me. I fall into his embrace and let my tongue explore his mouth as his hands explore my body. As the minutes pass and our make out intensifies, his hands make their way into my dress, pulling out my breasts and gently squeezing my small, dark brown nipples as I moan into his mouth and run my fingers through his hair.
This continues until a feel a hand under the hem of my dress, gently caressing it's way up my thigh and I'm acutely aware that I'm outside and vulnerable. I whisper into Matt's ear to touch me but don't take anything off. Next thing I feel is a finger pushing my panties (pink lace with a cheeky, not quite thong back) to the side, running their way between the damp parted lips of my vagina. A finger slips inside me while his thumb massages my clit, drawing heavy breaths and moans begging him not to stop. His pace increases and my legs begin to tremble as he brings me to orgasm with two fingers buried deep inside me and a thumb massaging my clit. I bite into his neck, hard enough to leave a mark as I try to keep from crying out at his touch.
As I come back down I realize that he has fully devoted his attention to my pleasure, and this has caused an increase of it's own in his shorts. I ask Matt if he's comfortable pulling himself out here, since it's not like me who has a dress to provide a minimal sense of modesty. He nods a yes and I drop to my knees in front of him, unbuckling his shorts and letting them fall away.
I kneel there with his six or seven inches (i don't walk around with a ruler guys) in front of me, and I want nothing more than to give him the same pleasure he just gave me. I grasp his shaft in one hand as I lick him from base to tip with the tip of my tongue. After a few more wet, sloppy licks to lube him up, I press my head down on his shaft, taking in to the back of my throat as I begin to work his cock in my hand. I bob my head up hand down, as deep as I can take him, almost to the base as I try to keep myself from gagging on this healthy cock that brings me so much pleasure. I work his shaft with a twisting motion as I try to bring him closer to the edge of cumming for me, and I feel his hands in my hair pressing my head down to take him deep.
My pace increases as I feel him start to swell. I twist and suck, trying to being him sweet release until he takes his hand to the back of my head and holds me down to the base of his cock and shoots a thick rope of cum down the back of my throat. I swallow it down and continue to pump his cock into my mouth, being sure not to spray any onto my dress. I swallow every last drop of him before getting up and helping him get his shorts up to make us both modest once again.
We continue our walk for another hour or so, both loving the fact that we each just had our first public sexual experience, and talking more about all the things we'd like to try going forward in the future.
Thanks for reading guys! I'm sorry this didn't have full on sex, but I promise our story gets steamy as we go forward! Again, I appreciate any feedback and critiques, just be polite!
♡Avery

As the title implies, this is the first in a series of stories about affairs I had in the military. I've never been married, not really interested in being married, but I have been with four married men in my life. In each case, I knew what I was doing, but I loved the rush of doing something I shouldn't as much as I liked the relationship itself. I'll save you all the negative comments. I was the homewrecking whore, etc, etc. If that's what you're here to comment about, save your breath, I'll just block you so people who want to actually read my content don't have to deal with you. If this is your sort of story, I'd love to hear your feedback on content or how I can improve my writing! One quick author's note, i will not be using people's real names or naming specific units that my stories happened in. I was never caught in my sexual affairs, no wives found out and left their husband over me, and no one's military career ended because of me and I intend to keep it that way. This is for fun writing, not doxing someone's past transgressions to the world. Also let me know if you want to see more stories! <3 Hannah
First, a little about me. I'm 5'5ish, 135ish depending on the day, and have dark brown hair that falls part way down my back with brown eyes. My mom is a Crow and my dad is Italian so the olive complexion genes are active in my family. I've got a fairly petite/athletic build with a 32B chest and a toned butt. My nipples are dark brown, on the smaller side, and I shave everywhere. I'm a fan of tattoos and have a feather on my foot, flower pieces on my right hip into my lower ribs, left shoulder, and lower back, a small script piece in my left side bra line, a green carebear in my left bikini line and a large dream catcher down my left ribs. If there's a detail I've left out, feel free to ask ;)
Without further ado, my story:
I was an 18 year old private, 92F (fuel handler) working on a base in the heart of Bourbon Country. It was a huge culture shock for me, coming from a small town in Maine to a massive military base with more people in my division than my home town. I honestly felt a little lost and overwhelmed, which probably contributed to why I sought out a relationship where I felt wanted. It's easy on a base like that to feel completely ignored. My unit had long been integrated and was about 30-40% female on any given day, so no I wasn't getting hit on constantly, and no I wasn't sleeping with every guy in my barracks.
Speaking of my living situation, I was in a 4-story building with all of the junior enlisted soldiers in my battalion. There wasn't open bays and there wasn't all girls areas. We roomed by company in our own room with a bedroom, closet, bathroom, and a fridge/sink/1 burner stove setup by the door as a kitchenett. Barracks could definitely be a wild time, similar to a college dorm but contrary to your favorite porno, gangbang orgies with 20 guys "running a train" are something I never saw or heard of in my 4 years living there and I was/am a fairly sexually active adult.
Given my situation of being totally new and massively out of my element in terms of culture shock, I quickly turned to Bumble to help sort out my dating scene because the base really was a city and everyone is pretty insular when it comes to their unit, so trying to meet guys who also aren't your coworkers means turning to the swipe game. After a few days online and connections with everyone from the local off base that definitely has fewer teeth than fingers to the obviously fake bot that just screams scam, and swiping left on some guys from my own company (hey, 18-25 year old demographic has the same needs, I get it), I finally matched with a 26 year old, Dustin, from another brigade on our post.
Given 10 seconds on Dustin's profile, I could tell he was an officer and anyone with 10 seconds to spare on my profile could tell I was junior enlisted, but we matched anyway. He was handsome in a gentle sort of way. Sandy brown hair in a military cut, athletic features that let you know he was fit without screaming chiseled gymrat, and a style that screamed more laid back homebody than the stereotypical "bro vet" vibe that you get with some young officers....and a ton of junior enlisted. I took a pause and decided to message him despite knowing our ranks didn't line up because the way I saw it, we were in totally seperate brigades and there'd be no reason we would ever interact or influence eachother at work.
A few minutes later I got a reply back and soon I was texting back and forth getting to know a genuinely sweet guy with a love of the outdoors, fishing, camping, and an eye for photography, particularly some truly astounding landscape photos. The conversation came easy and I found myself happy to have a guy so interested in me. Before I got completely swept off my feet, I brought up the elephant in the room and mentioned that I was an E2 and he was an O3. He dropped the bombshell that "yeah but I'm just a guy on staff, that's not a big issue, the real issue is I need to be discreet because I'm married. Please don't hate me"
Boom. Of course the super easy to talk to makes me feel wanted and moves past my mention of our rank differences drops the counter-bomb of he has a wife. In all of my 18 years I thought I would have run away instantly. Nope. Not me. I was intrigued. I didn't run away, and I came to find out that his wife was doing a year long internship with a major corporation out of state and only really came to visit on long weekends and holidays. So Dustin had turned to Bumble to fill a piece of his love life that was currently 4 states away. Not ideal I told myself, but at least she isn't like...here on post with him and he's not coming home because he's with someone else...right? To 18 year old me trying to convince myself it was okay to be with the guy I obviously was attracted to it was sound logic. It worked. I replied back that I was up for seeing what happened with the understanding that no one was gonna leave their wife over this and no one was gonna get anyone in trouble over the rank thing.
A week of texting back and forth after moving off Bumble found Dustin and I building a fast relationship that came with similar interests and easy conversation. He wasn't overly pushy about becoming anything romantic and wasn't like "Omg send nudes". I guess he was feeling this whole thing out as much as I was. Eventually I got the text one evening of "you know you look really good in that pic you have with your friends at the beach on your profile"...I know the one. I'm wearing an electric blue string sided bikini that has pretty full coverage, rides moderately low on my hips and has basic triangle cups and string ties for the top. Okay, Dustin likes me in a bikini...this is the first obvious flirting from Dustin and I decide to be a little bold and sent him a mirror selfie in the generic black bra I had worn under my uniform that day with my uniform pants still on. I get a reply back in some stereotypical guy lingo that he really likes what he sees. I told him that if he wanted to hang out, I wouldn't put my uniform shirt back on. Cue the FaceTime call, yes Dustin I will video chat with your handsome shirtless self while wearing a bra and my uniform pants thank you very much. We talked for at least an hour and things didn't turn super sexual or anything but we did agree we needed a date that weekend. The week ahead though definitely saw a spike in "tension" between us.
I was more than a little excited by the prospect of being with someone again. I had had a little fling during AIT, but since coming to my first duty station, I had been in a bit of a dry spell. Bumble had finally come through for me, and the combined rush of potentially being with a guy again, plus the fact he was one of those forbidden officers, and married? I was on edge. I definitely had my moments of "holy shit I shouldn't be doing this" but those feelings were replaced by a feeling of almost insatiable excitement that had me counting down the days to Saturday. For the first time since highschool, I found myself putting some serious effort into some scandalous but not too "revealing" snaps to Dustin, teasing him with a peak of which panties I wore to work today, or hoping in the shower after PT with just my black Army tshirt on and sending a pic of it clinging to every curve and hiding just enough below my waist. Like I said, hard-core tease mode for four whole days.
Flash forward to Saturday and I was in my barracks room, getting ready to meet a guy I was 100% falling for just a little and I decided that no matter what happened tonight, I was not gonna be the girl who gives it all up on the first date. Definitely set myself up to potentially cock block myself, but I saw it as I didn't want to be the girl he slept with and left, I wanted to continue to tease him and leave him wanting more. I wanted him to want me. I slipped into a pair of almost painted on skinny jeans with a cute teal thong underneath with a black tanktop and matching pushup bra on top. I drove to Dustin's house somewhere in the on base housing that I'd never been and took a deep breath before walking to the door.
This was it. I was the new Private about to go see a married officer behind his wife's back. I almost chickened out and drove away, but found myself ringing the doorbell and quickly being invited in, pulled into a warm hug and a "wow you look even cuter in person" from the handsome man of my DMs, Dustin. He had apparently spent the day smoking some brisket because he had quite the spread laid out for us in the dining room as I got a quick tour of the common spaces of his home. Definitely nicer than my barracks room.
Dinner accompanied the two of us loudly cheering on a random football game on TV, sorta snuggled on the couch but at a "almost together " sort of distance. There were all sorts of reasons for us to brush up against eachother and it was almost this cat and mouse game of how far do we go as the evening progressed. Don't get me wrong, there was a ton of conversation and it came just as naturally as it had online, but now we had the palpable tension of two of us who had never been this far deciding where the limit for tonight would be.
Eventually Dustin cut the tension, saying, "you really do love to tease don't you?". Yes. Let's talk about how I've driven you wild for days and now you want me. I leaned into him, kissed him quickly but firmly on the lips before pulling away, leaving an inch between us as I looked into his eyes and whispered "yes sir". I found my face immediately in his hands, my lips pressed to his and our tongues intertwined. I gasped as he suddenly held me close and we made every effort to close any space between us as we passionately made out, his fingers running through my hair, my nails scraping his back over his tight tshirt and soon I was hot, breathless, and sure I wanted more.
I pulled away and told him he didn't get all of me tonight but he could still have dessert. I had him sit up on the edge of the couch and pulled his shorts to the floor, tossing them aside towards an end table holding pictures of him and his wife and our dirty dishes from dinner. I in turn lifted my tanktop off over my head, unclasped my black pushup bra and let it fall to the floor, kneeling between Dustin's spread legs as my small brown nipples hardened into firm nubs in arousal. I pulled back my long brown hair and tied it in a messy ponytail before bringing my face down to his firm, six inches between his legs.
I teased the length of his shaft with the tip of my tongue, feeling him twitch in expectation as I repeatedly, softly traced his length before circling his tip and heading back down the way I came. I grasped his base and swallowed half his length in one wet mouthful, a gasp of pleasure escaping his lips as my own pushed further towards his base, attempting to take his entire firm cock before the tip slipped down into my throat, triggering a slight gag reflex as I tightened around his shaft and I came up for air, a slight trail of drool connecting my lips to his tip. I stroked his now well lubed cock in a twisting motion as I asked him if his little private was doing well for him. A hand on the back of my head guiding me back to his shaft told me this wasn't too far for him. I swallowed him nearly to his base, grasping him with one hand as my free hand unbuttoned my jeans and slipped into the front of my now soaked panties, the arousal of the situation I found myself bringing me close to an edge myself.
I worked Dustin's shaft with a bobbing head, sucking lips and twisting hand that matched the rhythm I was working against my clit with the hand buried in my jeans. I increased my pace, with Dustin's hand making sure I still brought myself far enough down his length as my own pleasure came more and more to the forefront as my now soaked vagina craved more attention. I popped off his cock as I felt it begin to swell and told him to stand up as I scooted back from the couch, kneeling between his legs, looking up at him as one hand held my jeans open while the other furiously rubbed my clit as I came close to cumming myself. I moaned for Dustin to cum for me as I looked up at him, the inner walls of my vagina clenching in orgasm as the filthy phrase left my lips and I was greeted with thick streams of cum shooting over my head before falling on my uplooking face and bare breasts and Dustin climaxed after an apparently decent dry spell.
I knelt between his legs, cum covering my face and chest, my own arousal soaking my panties and in that moment I felt like the hottest woman on earth. I made a man forget his entire world and do this with me in a home that wasn't mine but his. I was addicted to the rush. Dustin reached down and offered me a hand to pull me up. He led me topless to the guest bathroom where I cleaned up, washing my face and chest before walking back to the livingroom and redressing. Neither of us made mention of the line we had just crossed together, but we sat on the couch, now cuddled like a couple with the ice broken and finished the football game that had been forgotten awhile ago.
After the game we both agreed that I should probably get going, but we agreed to see eachother again and made a date for a midweek hangout. I kissed Dustin goodnight and drove back to my barracks in my still wet panties that I hadn't changed out of. I sent Dustin a snap in them, a wet spot still visible in the front with a caption "the things you do to me(; "...needless to say he was proud of himself. I went to bed dreaming of what could come from this, and truly happy to feel wanted, even if it was from a man who wasn't all mine.
Thank you all for reading this far. Again, like I said before, any rude comments will just get you a block. If that's what you need to do to feel good about yourself, so be it. For those of you who enjoyed this, please let me know if you'd like to read more! I'm always open to constructive feedback and critiques to improve my writing! Have a great evening! <3 Hannah