Pixie cut curly hair

Hey ladies! My name is Kevin, and I’m a big nerdy goofball, and by big I mean both tall and chunky as well as well, just nerdy. Any love for the dad-bod physique? I am also a huge animal lover, and I’m here looking to find a regular (Discord) chat partner. I’m open to any race/ethnicity, but would prefer someone around my age and within a few time zones of GMT-5.
I’m very left leaning, child-free and non-religious. I love board games, television and film, history, animal care and food of all kinds. I am a big proponent for being active in local community support organizations as well as being an upstanding ally. I have recently become much more active in the fight for LGBTQIA+ rights. Counter-protest date? I’m far from perfect, but making other people laugh or smile is what makes my day!
I do some freelance work here or there, but mostly I’m focusing on myself (physically and mentally!), my community, and more recently, fostering cats! Helping socialize semi-feral cats has become a passion of mine and something that I find incredibly rewarding. My first foster was just adopted! Yay Paddington!
I’d love to meet another animal lover, as my eventual dream would be to open up an animal sanctuary that doubles as a therapy center for humans. I have an unbreakable love for animals, and faith in their ability to help us heal. I think seeing a battered, scarred or withdrawn animal come out of their shell, seeking love, attention and comfort is one of the most rewarding things on the planet.
I’m a sucker for a cute giggle or laugh, freckles, curly hair and genuine passion about what interests you. Intelligence and emotional maturity are big things for me, but I’d also love someone to watch trashy reality TV with! Tell me about your pets, your D&D campaign, your favorite movie, or your dirty little secret! Let’s get to know each other. Please give me more than ‘hey’ or ‘how are you’ to work with!

Hey ladies! My name is Kevin, and I’m a big nerdy goofball, and by big I mean both tall and chunky as well as well, just nerdy. Any love for the dad-bod physique? I am also a huge animal lover, and I’m here looking to find a regular (Discord) chat partner. I’m open to any race/ethnicity, but would prefer someone around my age and within a few time zones of GMT-5.
I’m very left leaning, child-free and non-religious. I love board games, television and film, history, animal care and food of all kinds. I am a big proponent for being active in local community support organizations as well as being an upstanding ally. I have recently become much more active in the fight for LGBTQIA+ rights. Counter-protest date? I’m far from perfect, but making other people laugh or smile is what makes my day!
I do some freelance work here or there, but mostly I’m focusing on myself (physically and mentally!), my community, and more recently, fostering cats! Helping socialize semi-feral cats has become a passion of mine and something that I find incredibly rewarding. My first foster was just adopted! Yay Paddington!
I’d love to meet another animal lover, as my eventual dream would be to open up an animal sanctuary that doubles as a therapy center for humans. I have an unbreakable love for animals, and faith in their ability to help us heal. I think seeing a battered, scarred or withdrawn animal come out of their shell, seeking love, attention and comfort is one of the most rewarding things on the planet.
I’m a sucker for a cute giggle or laugh, freckles, curly hair and genuine passion about what interests you. Intelligence and emotional maturity are big things for me, but I’d also love someone to watch trashy reality TV with! Tell me about your pets, your D&D campaign, your favorite movie, or your dirty little secret! Let’s get to know each other. Please give me more than ‘hey’ or ‘how are you’ to work with!

The Window of Opportunities
Time has really moved at a break-neck speed, it's already been 2.5 years since I was made the Assistant Branch Manager of the SBI branch, Ambattur. I am probably two quarters away from becoming the Branch manager. I did an exceptional performance last quarter and had the best loan management throughput in southern India. I donned the youngest employee of the branch, but my older colleagues, who usually are my sub-ordinates, respected me and maintain a good rapport. All though everything seems great, the monotony was slowly creeping in. Sometimes I feel nothing new or interesting ever happens here.
***
It was such a usual boring Monday when something changed forever. Hema, a new clerk had joined our branch. I don’t hold the youngest employee tag anymore but happy to pass it to her. She was allocated a table facing my cabin entrance window. She seems a bit nervous, as it was her first day at this office. The peon and later the cashier had given her the office tour, and after meeting the BM, she entered my cabin. She wore a cotton yellow chudithaar with an umbrella cut, a simple black sandal, silvery earrings, and neatly braided hair with few strands floating over her forehead. She was really tense and her voice was feeble when she introduced herself. Hemamalini Manimaaran, that was her name. Maybe I will ask her out for a coffee someday.
***
It's been 4 months since Hema joined the branch. I haven’t asked her out for a coffee yet, but I have made steady progress toward asking her out. In these months, I haven’t had any chance to talk something other than office work. We do exchange occasional Hi-byes and daily greetings. Today, she is wearing a cool-blue cotton chudithar, with a white shawl. Her hair was neatly braided with a red rose pinned tightly by a small metal hair clip. Still, a few strands of hair defied the bun and floated in the air, caressing her tiny black spade-shaped bindi. I had assigned her to clear monthly balance sheets and finish up some data entry work as well. She looks pretty settled and comfortable in the office these days, often listening to music in her thin white earphones when not attending to the customer's queries. She wears her watch on her right hand, and her handwriting is super-legible even on challans written at high speed. I had turned punctual these days, taking care of my appearance, bathing daily, dressing formally, polishing my shoes and combing my hair. I spend most of my days in my cabin, releasing cheques, issuing drafts, processing loans and watching her work through my window. She is a slow poison to my soul. I have delayed it too much already, today there isn’t much work, and the climate also seems to be good, I will be taking her, sorry I mean asking her out for a coffee later this evening. I am a bit nervous though.
***
It has been 2 years since Hema stepped into my branch for the first time. I haven’t been promoted to Branch manager yet, but my Bosses from HQ have promised me a promotion coming quarter. It doesn’t matter though. Hema, my love, she is turning beautiful for every account opened, cheque passed, loan cleared and query resolved. Nowadays I feel that I am coming to my office just to see her work. She is not the nervous new girl anymore, she has gotten steadier, sincere and more responsible in her work. Today she is wearing a neatly ironed maroon cotton saree, nothing fancy except for the beautiful peacock embroidery at the border. Yes, She had started wearing sarees to the office these days. Some things have changed in these two years, she had changed her sandals twice and mobile phone once, but still owns the same earphones, uses the same perfume and wears the same watch but with a different strap. Something nice happened 3 months ago, the cashier had once invited me to have lunch in the common break room with everyone. yes, I was pathetically eating my lunch all alone in my cabin all these years. He just invited me once but I somehow made it into a routine. Hema checked her watch and turned off her PC, Yes! Lunchtime. This twenty minutes of having lunch at the same table along with Hema is the best thing that could happen today. She is silently eating lemon rice and beetroot poriyal that she bought in her green Tupperware lunch box. By the way, I haven't asked her out for a coffee yet, but we did have a couple of coffees and a few teas in these 2 years in our office paper cups that had been shrunken in size as a part of budgeting last fiscal year, but who cares. I may have not asked for a date yet, but I have come to the conclusion that she is the one for me and after my promotion next quarter, I will propose to her for hand in marriage. I think that kind of gesture would suit both of our personalities. Anyhoo…tell me how does anyone describe the feeling when you see your future wife eating Lemon rice silently in a corner. God, I love her so much. She occasionally brings curd rice, pulao, sambar, podi-idly, and chapathi for her lunch, but I often noticed her eating lemon rice for lunch. I think she is the one who cooks and packs her own lunch. I always wanted to share her lemon rice with me. Maybe after marriage, I will daily cook her something more nicer than lemon rice, if lemon rice is not her favourite lunch.
***
It was my eighth year at Ambattur Branch SBI. I had turned into branch manager a few weeks ago. It's a Monday, and sadly Hema will not be coming to the office today, I approved her maternity leave last Friday. She won’t be coming for the next 6 months. Yeah, she got married to a nice-looking gentleman. She seems happy and she literally glowed beautifully when I signed her approval. I redistributed her work to the rest of the employees. I don’t know where to eat lunch today. Last Friday she said, she was due in 3 months. Hope she has a safe delivery. The past year has been a little hard for me, both on the professional and personal front. Hema got engaged and then got married. I attended the marriage reception with other branch colleagues. Our overall branch performances dropped, and targets were falling short. My previous branch manager retired. I was eventually made BM, but I didn’t change my cabin though. I gained some weight, my hairline receded, don’t talk much. I am turning 33, tomorrow.
***
I am retiring this month, as BM of the Ambattur SBI branch. Hema entered my cabin with her lunch bag and two small paper cups of office coffee. I cleared my table for her to place the cutleries. We had taken an early lunch today. She is my best friend here. She and my wife are good friends too. She sat facing me, her grey hair strands still floating gracefully over her wrinkly forehead. She had brought Lemon Rice today. We shared it. Though my wife’s veg biriyani outclasses the lemon rice by a huge margin, I have a soft spot for the Lemon rice. Hema talks a lot, she loves to talk, and I love to listen to her. The conversation glided smoothly over a wide spectrum of topics, ranging from naming her grandchild, my son’s college, the rapidly changing banking sector, retirement plans, office hot goss, last quarter’s audit, SEBI regulations, and real estate. After 90 minutes of memorable lunch, we winded up and she walked back to her table. When I retire this month, she would be the oldest employee of the branch. She still has 3 years of service. I am sure she can manage on her own. I sat in my cabin and looked at her through my cabin window, She is wearing a beige-coloured cotton saree with simple floral patterns, I still remember her first day at the branch, in her yellow Chudithar. Lots have changed in these 35 years, our hair greyed, skin wrinkled as we worked, smiled, cried and grew in this small office space. Lots of opportunities have passed by. I have missed all of them. Regretted for a few years for missing them, but now looking back at all these years, I have witnessed all my love for this woman, beautifully transform into respect and friendship. She was skimming through some files at her desk, she paused and turned to see me through the window, and our eyes met. I smiled. She smiled.
***

TWBS Previous Next First
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---Simone’s perspective---
---Thursday, 4th of January, 2683 Terran Calendar---
---Southern England---
“So… let me get this straight…” I say, frowning at the pair before me “…Within an hour of landin’, you…” I point at the tall, dark haired boy “…were bitten by a king brown snake and were laid up for the next two days, unable to contribute more than advice to Reid while she did all the heavy liftin’… You weren’t able to call an evac because, between the two of you, you’d managed to leave the beacon you should have had here in Graffham… and you think I should pass you for that, do you Privates?”
“Yes, Ma’am!” answers the redhead.
“Why should I pass you for that, Reid?”
“We fulfilled the terms of the assignment: We survived the full five days in the environment we were dropped in using only the allowed equipment and without calling for an emergency evac, Ma’am.” answers the Scot, straight faced, somehow.
“You admit that you would have called an evac if you could have, Private?”
“Yes, Ma’am… but we couldn’t so we didn’t.”
“You admit that it was your own shared stupidity that meant that you didn’t have a beacon with you when you went, Privates?” I ask, drily.
“I… don’t believe lack of stupidity was a requirement of the test, Ma’am.” answers Reid, cheekily.
“Guess again, Private! Lack of stupidity is always a requirement in the Military! Stupid Soldiers are dead Soldiers!” I correct, sternly.
“My mistake, Ma’am.” apologises Reid, hastily.
My anger subsides as I say “Buuut… as you say… you did make it out alive… you didn’t call an evac, even if only as a result of bein’ stranded by stupidity… and…” I take a sniff and then chuckle “…it certainly smells like you two are gettin’ along better than you were when you left…(!)”
“I’m… not sure what…?” starts Reid but I cut her off.
“Don’t play dumb, Private!… You’ve tried to wash it off but I’m half Tshwane… you can’t fool this nose!”
The pair shift uncomfortably before I reassure them “Relax! You’re not breakin’ any rules… So long as this relationship doesn’t negatively affect either of your performances, we have no issue… I also trust this means you two won’t be at eachother’s throats so much… At least, in public… don’t really much care what you’re into doin’ in the privacy of a bedroom… or a cave, as the case may be(!)”
“I think it’s safe to say our rivalry is a thing of the past, Ma’am.” provides Taylor.
“Or shifted onto much friendlier terms, at least…” smirks Reid.
“Good…” I turn to Taylor “…Taylor, now you’ve reached the age of majority, you’re eligible to be moved to a bunk in a shared room…”
His face falls, clearly having hoped I’d forget about that.
“…but…” I continue, causing him to perk back up “…I’m a busy woman and assignin’ you one is able to remain low on my list of priorities… so long as you (or Reid) aren’t givin’ me the impression that you might benefit from more rest, that is!… Do we understand eachother, Taylor?”
The boy gives me a rare smile and answers “We understand eachother perfectly, Ma’am.”
“Good!… You are dismissed, Privates.”
The two of them turn to go.
“Oh, and, Privates?”
They both turn to look at me, expectantly.
“Happy New Year…”
---Esme’s perspective---
---Friday, 5th of January, 2683 Terran Calendar---
“I can’t believe you’ve been sleeping in a conjugal room this whole time!” I grin at the handsome man, currently acting as my mattress in the broomcupboard sized space.
“Technically, it wasn’t a conjugal room… it was designated as a private room for me, since I was a minor…” he smiles without opening his eyes.
“Oh, aye(!) Let’s protect the wee baby boy from any indecency by putting him in the rooms where he’ll be able to hear all the sex through the paper thin walls, every night(!) I see no issue here(!)”
He shakes his head “It wasn’t that bad…”
“Oh it wasn’t, was it(?)… You nasty little perv(!)” I smirk, mischievously.
“Most of the time… people are some combination of embarrassed and considerate enough to keep the noise down… It’s rare that I would have out and out screamers next door… That’s all I meant…”
“Attention all:…” comes Sands’ voice, making the morning wake up call over the PA “…It is now 0630hrs… Time to wake up!… After breakfast, you are to assemble in the yard. Father Christmas came by last night to drop off some late presents for all of you(!)”
---Oskar’s perspective---
I find the crate that has my name on, shaped (ghoulishly) somewhat like one of the wooden boxes that Christians bury their dead in.
I pick it up and carry it aside… it’s heavy!
Looking around for someone who’s done using one of the crowbars that are being passed around, I make eyecontact with Milligan.
He raises the length of metal he holds, proffering it to me.
I take it, appreciatively, and thrust the claw end between the box and its lid.
What is inside does nothing to dispel the ghoulishness of the container’s outward appearance…
The box contains a humanoid figure, almost my exact height and build, rendered in jet black metal with a rippling, wootz pattern.
“Fresh off the forges of Ivaldason and Sons’ Durasteel Foundry, Iceland…” announces Sands, strolling through the throngs of people opening their respective crates “…Between 20 and 30kg each, dependin’ on your proportions… Wearin’ this armour, you become nearly as close to indestructible as it is possible to get without enterin’ the realm of divinity!… These suits are bulletproof and bombproof!… They do have some limitations… they’ll not, for instance, protect you from a long drop and a sudden stop! Your organs will still be rendered into slurry in that case… Neither’ll they protect you from bein’ cut in half with a plasmasword!… From now on, you’ll wear these from dawn to dusk! Classes may be taken with your helmets off… Durin’ PT, however, you WILL wear them in their entirety!… It’ll be hard to begin with but, after less time than you think, your bodies’ll have acclimatised to the extra weight… and you’ll find movin’ in these almost as easy as movin’ out of ’em!… This mornin’s workshop’ll be an instructional on how to properly don, remove and maintain your armour!… Do please give it all your attention!"
---Esme’s perspective---
---Tuesday, 9th of January, 2683 Terran Calendar---
This is HELL!
The armour is perfectly fitting and nicely padded… but it’s so fucking heavy to wear that I can’t think about much more than how sweaty I am and how much my muscles ache from the days I’ve already been wearing it!
Sands said we’d get used to it sooner than we thought but, so far, I feel like exhaustion is making me worse, day on day!
I had to go and sleep in my dormroom last night because I was just too exhausted to engage in any… extracurricular exercise with Oskar(!)
He was quite understanding about it… A little too understanding… I wish he’d seemed at least a touch disappointed!
Back in the present moment, the black metal giant (boosted to over 2m by the height he gains from the boots and helmet) rams the tip of his training sword into my solar plexus… the one upside is that I’ll probably get less bruises wearing this armour!
“Hey…!”
“You’re dead, Esme…” is the only answer that comes from that expressionless helmet.
“You not feel like going a little easier on me now, Oskar?!… I am your girlfriend!!!”
“Caring more about you makes me wish to see you better able to protect yourself… So, no… I’m not going to coddle you…”
“Perfectly logical…(!)” I mock in a flat, midAtlantic accent, holding up my right palm, the ring and little finger splayed from the middle and index.
“Change partner!” shouts Sands.
Not too long ago, my heart would have leapt at that instruction and I would have utterly squashed any feeling of disappointment… Now, however, it causes my already flagging morale to vaporise!
Of course… it makes sense… If you only ever fight with one partner, you only ever learn to fight one way…
I shuffle along while Oskar stays where he is.
The next partner I’m up against is Kilroy… I might have a chance of holding my own against him at least!
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TWBS Previous Next First

I have an appointment today to get my hair balayage and cut. I’ve been going to the same stylus for about a year and a half, and we always book my next appointment at the end of each session.
The thing is, even though I’m scheduled for balayage today. I kind of want to get back to my natural, darker color and not highlighted again. Is it rude or poor etiquette to change my styling requests once I get to the appointment? I feel bad if she has blocked off time and is counting on the money from a balayage, but I just don’t think it’s what I want.

FALLOUT 5
Fallout 5 will take place in the Dixie Wasteland, in the ruins of Charleston, South Carolina in 2322. It will be the first fallout to take place in the South. The only nuke to hit the region was a defective US nuke that detonated as soon as it was launched.
Character Building:
You start with 35 special points, making it so you have a more specialized build or a jack of all trades. The old skill system makes a return, with you choosing a perk every 3 level ups. Skill checks are frequent, and can vary from Special stats to perks. You get to choose a special perk when you start the story, like Small Frame or Kamikaze. Karma has three tiers: Evil, Neutral, and Good.
Mutations and Radiation: Mutations will occur like in 76, but you can become a super mutant if you dip yourself in a vat of FEV. Your strength and endurance will increase dramatically, but many factions and cities won’t let you in without a huge hassle. Radiation makes you mutate more, but if your mutation level is too high you will turn into a mindless Behemoth. Too much radiation will turn you into a ghoul, which makes you immune to radiation and raises your endurance. If you get too many rads while ghoulified, you become feral.
Weapons & V.A.T.S:
Makeshift weapons are far more prevalent in this game, but they are more diverse and realistic than those in Fallout 4. Normal weapons are more powerful and rarer, selling for more at stores. More real guns will be added alongside the retro-futuristic fallout guns, including the 9 round and 1 shotgun shell LeMat revolver. Weapon customization exists alongside a wider variety than of weapons. Dual wielding makes its first entry to the series, allowing for dual wielding of small melee weapons, pistols, and smgs.
Higher Agility levels makes dual wielding more accurate. V.A.T.S will return to freezing the game instead of the slowed down time in Fallout 4
Settlements:
There will be 3 buildable settlement locations that you discover on your own, and 5 customizable player home locations.
World: The Dixie Wasteland is a mix of civilized and Wild. The Western section of the map is the most dangerous, full of raiders and animals, despite that the town of Magnolia is in the west. The Northeast is the city of Charleston, the city of Civitas Ferro is set up within eastern Charleston. The South of the map is controlled by the Brotherhood of Steel as well. The middle of the map is a bunch of small towns mixed with the wildness of the west. The eastern side of the map is swamps, and the west is forested hills. A large lifeless crater exists in the in the middle of the map, simply known as the Hole.
Enemies: Some animals return, such as bloodbugs, deathclaws, ferals, bloatflies, and Yao Guais, Mirelurks, and Gatorclaws. New animals include Raddlesnakes, Giraffe Dogs (coyotes with long necks), Snappers (huge turtles), and Prowlers (mutated bobcats). Raiders are in named groups again, with three main bands terrorizing Dixie. The tribe known as the Confederates who enslave and sell rather than pillage, the Beastmasters who tame mutated animals and attack with them, and the Vaulties who were former vault dwellers. Generic raiders can also be found. Super Mutant bands have moved south from the Capital Wasteland, and continue their sackings in Dixie. Enemy robots are occasionally found, especially from the RobCo factory in the city. The last kind of enemy is the main factions if you piss them off, as they send death squads out to gank you if you have a bad reputation.
Dixie history: The Carolinians united the eastern coast and Charleston together as a large scale civilization in 2190, but by the year 2291, the Brotherhood of Steel invaded. They pillaged, plundered, and took control of the east coast and the capital of the Carolinians. Their despotic rule has causes several factions in the wasteland grow rebellious, and tensions are reaching a high in 2322.
Themes: The game has a southern theme, with the radios playing country and bluegrass music. Characters have southern accents, as do the robots.
Radio Stations:
Magnolia Radio - Swing and Jazz hosted by a charismatic ghoul named Darren Dixie. Darren will comment on the events that occur throughout the wasteland.
Hoedown Capital - A country and bluegrass station hosted by Mr. Hillbilly, a DJ Mr.
Handy. He still believes the year is 2077, and only tells news relating to events that happened leading up to the Great War.
Brotherhood Military Channel - Updates troops about tech locations and orders patrols around.
There are plenty of side quests and random events, including side quests for each faction.
Factions:
There are 5 factions in Fallout 5, and you have to side with one of them to complete the story. The Tribal ending is the wild card ending. The reputation system makes a return, with the New Vegas pictures.
Brotherhood of Steel: The Brotherhood of Steel has turned into nothing short of a jingoistic military dictatorship, developed by Elder William Garrick. The Brotherhood abandoned Maxson in the commonwealth, as Garrick lead a silent coup in the Capital wasteland. The Brotherhood has grown colossally in size, and now spans the East Coast unchecked in power. Not only do they seize military technology now, they also seize stuff like pre-war small arms, Auto-docs, pip-boys, robots, terminals etc. They’ve ruled over Atlanta for the past 2 years with an iron fist, forcing settlers into giving up their crops and crippling the wasteland and infrastructure of the Dixie Wasteland. They control a large city inside Atlanta called Civitas Ferro, with their headquarters in the center. Despite your hatred for them initially, you can join them and defeat all the rebels.
Carolinian Revolutionary Army- The Carolinians are the remnants of the former largest nation in the Dixie Wasteland called the Free Federation of Charleston. It was a democratic civilization based on the old state of South Carolina, with elections and rights for any human or quasi-human. Although it was weak and corrupt, it was better than the alternatives. When the Brotherhood rolled in, the Carolinians resisted their raids, so the Brotherhood overthrew them in a scorched Earth campaign. The Carolinians are the remnants of their military, dedicated to rebelling against the Brotherhood’s tyranny, and have the endgame goal of bringing Democracy back to Dixie. They grow steadily by the day, but they suffer from bureaucratic issues and corruption. You can join the Carolinians as an agent, and you help them lead a rebellion against the Brotherhood.
Greylock’s Hand: Greylock’s Hand are a band of violent raiders and mercenaries, who likewise want the Brotherhood of Steel gone, but instead desire an anarchic survival of the fittest wasteland. They are lead by a profane, wild ghoul named Greylock. They are basically terrorists, but their raids and ambushes against the Brotherhood are effective. They reside in a secret underground missile launch site, completed two days before the war. Even the Brotherhood knows nothing about it aside from rumors. The missiles, however, are not finished. You can join Greylocks Hand after getting kidnapped by them, and after you help them build part of the missiles.
Magnolia: The last joinable faction is Magnolia, a large settlement in and around the former plantation home. The city is ruled by a group of Mister Handys who escaped from a crashed truck driving to Charleston the day of the Great War. They saw the magnolia plantation and went their to clean, doing so and repairing it for 150 years, eventually realizing what was happening in the world around them.Their newfound “sentience” allowed them to create a settlement, inviting wastelanders and tribals to live and trade under their protection. Their elected leader is a specialized Mr Handy that has economic programming. The robots have defended themselves from several Brotherhood attacks, and after some convincing they allow you to become an honorary robot and join their faction.
Tribal: Instead of choosing any of the four main factions, you can instead unite the smaller settlements, tribes, and factions into New Dixie. You are assisted by an intelligent Supermutant from the Capital Wasteland named Spider, acting as your loyal second in command.
Minor factions:
The Network: A secret underground trading organization that sells and trades equipment that would normally be confiscated by the BoS. You can rat them out to the BoS, or you can join them.
Wasteland Marshalls: A paramilitary organization that patrols highways and hunts raiders, based on the US Marshals of the past. You can join them or convince them to join the brotherhood.
Catawbas: The descendants of the old native tribe from South Carolina, they specialize in the creation of makeshift weaponry to sell to wastelanders. You can convince them to join the rebellion, or you can convince them to join the Brotherhood.
Abolitionists: A militia of borderline terroristic anti-slavers, based on the conquests of the radical abolitionist John Brown. You can join them or eliminate them.
Plot:
South Carolina: 2322. War, war never changes.
The main character is a tribal living southeast of Charleston. The tribe has to pay a toll to local raiders, and it’s left their tribe starving. In the first part of the game, the Tribal, their sibling and their friend are searching for food for their tribe, when they stumble across an old sunken West-Tek storage depot. In it is a prototype suit of power armor called the AX-01, which is a large tank-suit with back missiles and two hand laser rifles, built for ease of use. You learn how to pilot it from a terminal, and you take it back to the tribe; the raiders and their leader are there demanding their payment. You kill the raiders with the power armor, and the tribe is free from their subjugation. Weeks later, 4 Brotherhood of Steel paladins arrive at the village. After the tribals refuse to give up their power armor, the BoS execute everyone in the village and burn it to the ground (including your sibling), seizing the suit and flying away on a vertibird. Only the Tribal remains.
Act 1: The Tribal picks up a broken pip-boy as soon as they leave the town, and they hunt down the paladins North to Charleston, you kill all 4 of them while adventuring across the map. By the end of the first act, the Brotherhood declares you an enemy of the Brotherhood.
Act 2: Due to the deaths of several Paladins and the constant rebellion from the region, a Brotherhood blimp appears. The brotherhood frequency states that if the Tribal visits the ship, they will be absolved of their crimes. The Tribal is also invited to secret meeting of between Carolinians and robots from Magnolia. You also get kidnapped by the Greylocks 2 days after this meeting. From there you can choose between the rebels or the Brotherhood, and do their specific quest lines. For the Greylocks, you have to find parts to build their rockets. Whereas for the other groups you have to find a way into their base.
Act 3: All questlines end in the ultimate battle and raid on the Greylock base. If you side with the Greylocks you repel the attackers. The end of the story is where you fire the missile array at the Brotherhood’s home base and their airship, chasing them out of Dixie. If you side with the Brotherhood you secure the missile array and fire the rockets at the fleeing rebels, crushing their numbers.
Each ending depends on your karma and what side you chose, potentially turning a “good” faction evil or an “evil” faction good.
Your actions have consequences throughout the story, and no character is essential except for potential companions.
The Tribal:
The tribal is the name of the 28 year old protagonist, and you can choose between you or your friend to be your character. One is male, the other is female. The protagonist is silent, but the character you don’t choose has voiced dialogue. Their default names are Sammy and Cora, but you can change them. Speech is back to the chart with full responses. Their personality is determined by the player, allowing for better roleplaying opportunities.
Companions:
There are 10 companions, 3 non human and 7 human. The affinity system returns, and each companion has a personal quest. They also have comments for the main quest and other miscellaneous events. Companions have specific likes and dislikes, and have different karmas. You can recruit companions outside of your karma if you pass a speech check. Any positive affinity progression while not in their karma has a 1.25 multiplier. Companions are romanceable regardless of gender.
The Tribals Friend (Sammy/Cora):
The friend you don’t choose is available to become your companion. They know your name, and revert to their original appearance and name once you choose your character. Cora is originally white with blonde hair and blue eyes, and Sammy is originally a latino with curly black hair. have good karma, and hates the BoS, but are okay with the other factions. They are 28 years old, the same age as the tribal. They wear a tribal cloak and uses a makeshift bolt action rifle. They are Romanceable.
Benjamina Pavlova - A hired gun and part time technician working for the Network, you can recruit her whenever you hire her at the Network. She has good karma, and hates the BoS and the Carolinians, but likes Greylocks hand and the Magnolia Robots (hired guns were illegal in the FFC). She is white, and has curly black hair and green eyes. She is 29 years old. She wears a confederate cavalry hat and her combat armor with road leathers, she uses a .44 trail carbine. She is romanceable.
Captain Baker Springfield - A soldier for the Carolinian Revolutionary Army, you can recruit him if you save his platoon from a super mutant attack. He has good karma, and hates the BoS and Greylock’s hand, but loves the Carolinians. He is 32 years old. He is white, has brown hair and stubble, and wears a Carolinian soldier outfit; he uses a .308 Combat rifle.
Dina Qian A vault dweller from Vault 52, you have to free the vault from a band of raiders who have cracked into the vault to recruit her. Dina is asian and has black hair in a ponytail. She has neutral karma, and hates all raider groups, including Greylock’s Hand, she is indifferent to the other groups. Dina is 25 years old. She uses two 10mm pistols and wears an armored vault suit. She is Romanceable.
Louie - Louie is a ranch hand at a farm outside of the Hole, you can recruit him if you get his family’s brahmin back from the Beastmasters. He has neutral karma, and hates Greylock’s hand, but likes The BoS due to their law bringing policies. He is 36 years Louie is white, and has a buzzcut with a mustache. He wears a ranch hand outfit and a stetson hat with leather armor, he uses a makeshift pump action shotgun.
General Ulysses Grant: A securitron made specially for the RobCo factory owner, a civil war buff. You have to repair him after clearing the RobCo factory to recruit him. His karma is dependent on how you program him, and he hates the brotherhood but loves the magnolia robots. He is a deep blue and gold securitron with General grant on the tv screen. He is a pre-war robot. He uses the 9mm smg, laser rifle, and rockets depending on what you tell him to use. He is not romanceable.
Uriah Lincoln - A respected raider within Greylock’s hand, you can recruit him whenever you join Greylock’s hand. He has evil karma, loves Greylock’s hand, and hates the Brotherhood and the Carolinians. You can change his karma in his personal quest. Uriah is 23 years old. He is black and is bald, with a bandana covering on of his eyes. He wears Greylock makeshift power armor and carries a plasma rifle. He is romanceable
Senior Scribe Weatherby - A former scribe turned ghoul by radiation, you can recruit her from the BoS after she is kicked out. She has evil karma, hates the BoS and the other factions. After her personal quest she can either rejoin the brotherhood or be open to other factions. She is 39 years old. She is a ghoul and has wears red hair wig. She wears a scribe outfit and uses a laser rifle. She is romanceable.
Belle - A Mrs Nanny built by the robots at Magnolia, you can recruit her after joining the Magnolia robots. She has neutral karma, and likes Greylock’s Hand and the Magnetic robots. Belle is 60 years old. She wears a straw hat with a flower on it, and has a light purple chassis; she uses a minigun and a sawblade. She is not romanceable.
Hambone - A golden retriever with one blue eye and one brown eye. He doesn’t care about what you do, he’s a good boy. You can have him alongside any other companion.
This is what I’ve got, feel free to add anything.

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

I was on vacation I’m Vegas, walking through the hotels casino trying to get to my room where I was meeting my bf. A dude who seemed familiar walked up to me and puts both of his hands on my shoulder forcing me to walk backwards as he talks to me about how he thinks he knows me and all that, he backed me into a elevator where another dude was. He backs off and they just stand by the door doesn’t seem like they know each other. We reach a level and the door opens to almost pitch darkness. I go to press my levels button but one had already grabbed me by the neck and arm and forced me out of the elevator and down the hall to a door. He opens it and throws me inside. It’s a VERy big room, almost like an empty speciality parking lot. There was a group of people standing in a semi circle around this desk that had nothing on it but a woman standing behind it. They toss me in the middle of the circle and they all start point things out about me that are good or bad like “her hair is nice and curly” “yeah but that snake tattoo on her ankle isn’t ideal” “yeah but her eyes color would be a nice change for the clients”
TW: SA I was frozen in fear, when they started talking about what to do with me I started to panic a little so one of the guys grabbed me from behind while the other started to take all my clothes but my panties off. I start kicking and crying out no, please, and stop but then the guy in front sticks both of his fingers inside of me over the underwear. He gives me such a nasty smile while he pushes his fingers as far up at he can. I scream out in pain and start flailing around and then the guy behind throws me on the ground. I quickly get dressed and then the woman asks me how much toilet paper I can get. Toilet paper? I ask and she says yes sternly I’m like “I can get as many as you like, I can get it all, I promise” and she says “how do I know you won’t bail, how badly do you want this” and I say “I would do anything not to miss my flight” they all give each other looks and then she nods okay. They all start walking away to a different door I came in from and before she goes in she looks at me and says “we’re always watching” I sit there and cry for a minute before going back up the way I came. I’m walking through the crowded hotel casino still trying to figure how to get to my room. I call my bf crying to him saying how I need to talk to him, something bad happened, I’m in danger and I need to speak to him and he basically tells me he can’t bc he’s hanging out with his friends and then he hangs up. I start bawling my eyes out trying to figure out what to do. The traffickers are all around in the crowd it’s just hard to point them out from the others and I’m trying to find a place to hide, then I slowly start to wake up

Hi, I recently got a haircut and my barber shaved some hair off my temple and he made a huge hole in the back of my heads hair. Anyways I hate the cut and I want to go bald to regrow my hair, and if I grow my hair out as many people tell me to do, it will only look worse as my hair grows more and more because the bald spots will be more visible talking from experience (my hair grows extremely fast). However my mom won't let me shave my head bald and there is NO other choice for me than to shave it bald. How can I convince her?

Question
I bought coconut cantu curly cream for my hair (male/wavy hair) I want to have curly hair, but I saw alot of people saying after 1 year your hair will start falling off, so is it true? Another question is a guy said to buy a conditioner and the cream so I did.. and he also said to use the conditioner before taking a shower, but every person that used cantu only used the cream and never said anything about a conditioner so I'm really confused now.

Hey, First things first, some background: I did DHT test exactly year ago, the testily was 825 pg/ml I decided to start microsoging topical fin 2.5 months ago. I wanted to go with lowest possible dosage, so around 0.08mg twice a day (a little bit more than Mazarella) I had some nocebo and real se first week, but nothing serious and it stoped anyways. I noticed less hairs falling out and what was important I noticed that my hair somehow doesn’t itch. I didn’t know about DHT itch before that so it was definitely not placebo. After exactly 2 months I did next DHT test.
And now what’s interesting - I mixed crushed fin pills with garnier Stemoxydine, and somehow I felt like at first the fluid was different. Cannot explain it better but it was more dense and also I started to feel DHT itch again when finishing bottles. I’m almost certain that fin didn’t dissolve equally in Stemoxydine and I got significantly higher dosage at first and probably almost zero fin when finishing bottle. DHT test kinda confirm it because my result was 495! 40% serum reduction on 0.015mg topical??? I usually put more than 2ml but still it’s not possible.
So first - be careful about how you prepare your topical fin
Second - topical fin is working for me and it was relatively safe so far.
Third - do you have any advice how to make it better? I wanted to cut pull in 1/4 and mix it every day with 2ml so I would be sure that I took exacly 0.25mg. Unfortunately it’s hard to cut such small pill in 4 parts even with pill cutter and second I still see white grains on the bottom of the bottle (pill outer layer is blue so it’s not that) I’m ot sure if it’s just filler or actual finasteride.
So far my best idea is to prepare new batch every 4 days using one pill, therefore I can be sure I got 1mg per everyb4 days so 0.25 on average.

This may be a stupid thing to ask but it has been bugging me for awhile
Those gaps in between my hair where u can see the white background (sky), are they normal? This is taken from my selfie camera with the the sun as a background with my head facing down, I have curly frizzy hair if that clarifies anything

Life changing difference since going CG! I have very long hair, to my waist. it takes me 20-25 minutes to diffuse ≈90%, Granted I have a 10 year old Conair with a diffuser duct taped to it 😅. I’m thinking of investing in a new one, but I’d like to know if anyone has one of those fancy ones that claims to cut down on dry time and if it actually does that? I remember tourmaline being a thing in driers? I’m hoping to cut down on frizz too if that’s a thing some critters can do.

I bought coconut cantu curly cream for my hair (male/wavy hair) I want to have curly hair, but I saw alot of people saying after 1 year your hair will start falling off, so is it true? Another question is a guy said to buy a conditioner and the cream so I did.. and he also said to use the conditioner before taking a shower, but every person that used cantu only used the cream and never said anything about a conditioner so I'm really confused now.