Hair salons in olive branch ms

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2023.04.02 12:54 Fantastic_Fee616 Trendy Haircut and Hairstyle at Bodycraft Salon!

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2023.04.02 11:57 Garlicbreadsticks_ Can anyone recommend a beauty salon? (Nails and possibly hair)

Hi, I’m looking for a new nail tech. My previous one cancelled on me about 10 times, every time half an hour before the appointment. The one I’m going to now files my cuticles open entirely and the nails lift/chip by the cuticles.
I’m looking for acrylic sculpt in pretoria east (equestria, faerie glen, garsfontein, hatfield, lynnwood and that area). If you know of any salon please let me know. I’d like to go to a higher end salon (I know tammy taylor). It would be perfect if they also do hair.
I’m considering Thamani beauty bar in the grove, but I’m not sure if I should go there because it looks like they work more with natural hair and I have caucasian hair. Their work looks good on nails and all but I don’t want to feel out of place if that makes sense.
Any recommendations will be greatly appreciated!
submitted by Garlicbreadsticks_ to Pretoria [link] [comments]

2023.04.02 11:34 hairdo-hair-care Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow: Understanding Female Pattern Baldness and Its Solutions

One of the most prevalent types of hair loss in women is female pattern baldness, which affects many people all over the globe. Understanding the reasons behind female pattern baldness can help you find the best therapy and stop further hair loss, even though it can be a frustrating and emotional experience for many women.

Pattern Baldness in Men and Women: Differences

The more well-known type of male pattern baldness is brought on by the hormone dihydrotestosterone (DHT), which shrinks hair follicles and makes them cease growing hair. On the other hand, female pattern baldness is brought on by a mix of hereditary and hormonal issues. Instead of the receding hairline and bald spot characteristic of male pattern baldness, women who are experiencing female pattern baldness typically have a more diffuse thinning of hair.

Female Pattern Baldness: The Causes

Genetics is the main factor in female pattern baldness. Any branch of the family can pass down female pattern baldness, and it is more likely to develop if other family members also lose their hair. Women who experience hair loss may also have hormonal imbalances, particularly if there is a rise in androgens. Age, stress, and specific medicines can all contribute to hair loss, among other things.

Risk Factors

There are additional risk factors to take into account, even though heredity is the main risk factor for female pattern baldness. Hair loss may be more likely in women who go through hormonal shifts brought on by pregnancy, menopause, or birth control pills. Women who have a history of autoimmune diseases like lupus or thyroid disease are also more likely to suffer hair loss.

The Female Pattern Baldness Stages

Understanding the stages that female pattern baldness goes through can help you choose the best line of action. Hair loss may be barely perceptible in the early stages, and you may observe more hair falling out. As the condition worsens, hair loss might be more obvious, and the density and thickness of the hair might also change.

Options for Female Pattern Baldness Treatment

The good news is that there are many ways to address female pattern baldness. To encourage hair growth, topical medications like minoxidil can be applied straight to the scalp. The creation of DHT can also be inhibited using oral medications, such as finasteride, to help stop hair loss. Additionally, hair transplant surgery may provide a more long-term answer to hair loss.
Try the Divinelocks Hair Treatment as well. The hair growth supplement DivineLocks has gained popularity as a female pattern baldness treatment choice. With the help of this all-natural hair supplement, you can achieve thicker, fuller, and healthier hair by nourishing and promoting hair development.
DivineLocks' all-natural components, which include a combination of vitamins, minerals, and plant-based extracts, are one of its primary advantages. These components support healthy circulation to the scalp and nourish hair follicles to encourage hair development.
The simplicity of use of DivineLocks is another advantage. You only need to consume two capsules per day to start seeing results in a few weeks. Many women who use DivineLocks report less hair shedding and an improvement in their hair's thickness, volume, and lustre.
In many women all over the globe, female pattern baldness is a common condition. While hormonal imbalances, aging, and stress can all contribute to this form of hair loss, genetics is by far the biggest factor. Understanding the causes and phases of female pattern baldness can help you find the best treatment option for your hair loss. Fortunately, there are many options available.
submitted by hairdo-hair-care to u/hairdo-hair-care [link] [comments]

2023.04.02 11:01 BF301 Book about a girl who moves back to her hometown and opens a hair salon while trying to stay distant from her stepbrother?

I read this book about 10 years ago and I cannot remember the title, the author or even the name of the characters. I thought it was by Meg Cabot but I couldn’t find anything online.
The story is basically that tho. Her stepdad had a son who she has sex with as a teenager before she leaves town. She comes back years later to open her hair salon and finds him again. She tries to avoid him, dyes her hair red and wears a red dress to a dinner I think? There’s a lot of sex in it
My sister recommended me a book and reading it triggered the memory of the not-Meg-Cabot-book and now I need to find it so we can laugh about it
Thanks for your time!
submitted by BF301 to findthatbook [link] [comments]

2023.04.02 10:50 LabiaMinoraLover 35 [M4F] #LosAngeles Romantic, cute blue eyes seeks sweet, smart, pretty girl with "outies"💋, a fuller flower🌸, larger pretty petals🌷, butterfly lips🦋, longer labia minora ❤️

I seek a woman I like to make smile, loudly, who is my pleasure to please and make so happy that we will want to be exclusive. I'm patient to gain trust, to build a connection by communicating and seeing if there is potential attraction. I'm open to begin as platonic friends, hanging out, dating, growing to be lovers, even LTR, whatever we desire. I like spontaneity, creating chemistry highs with teasing to pleasing, almost anytime, anywhere, once we are sure of our attraction. I like sharing affections, cuddles to kisses, to earn my turn, to prove myself, giving massages to multiples and more. Offering this munch loving makes me seek someone special, perhaps a shy inexperienced woman curious to explore the best feelings possible or a woman with an insatiable libido, yearning for one man to keep her full/filled.
For us to pursue things, I want attraction for more than just lust, to feel butterflies looking in each other's eyes, loving simply holding hands and spending quality time together. I like anticipating, feeling a non-stop romantic hunger, a primal passion in my belly that brings out the lover-giver in me (tho I love receiving too). For me, a spark starts with pretty eyes and smile, combined with personality, poise, voice tone, and even an accent. The eye shapes I prefer can be described as upturned, almond or cat-eyes (and any color). I like skin tones from white to dark olive tan skin. I like natural curves, in the right places on a thin to thick-voluptuous hourglass shape, natural bigger lips on your mouth and on your kitty (my username checks out-ies ;)
I prefer longer labia, thicker, fleshy, meaty minora, because they're sextra arousing to see, admire, kiss, lick, nibble, suck on, play with, feel wrapping around, and spread with tongue or D during kitty lip n clit worship. Sometimes lovely longer lady-lips may be hidden by puffy labia majora, while some are "outies" protruding, some can dangle, spread like butterfly wings, like a fuller flower with big pretty petals blooming with nectar. You probably know if you're blessed with lips bigger than average. Speaking of which, I'm above average down below and cut. I also prefer labia that are darker pink to tan brown, as well as those colors of nipples and fuller areolas because they make me hungriest to kiss, suckle, breast-nipple worship, including dry or wet ANR, ABF. I can be open-minded in bed, with sexy roleplay, foreplay, edging, sweet gentle pillow princess, face-riding/queening, Gspot to cervix massage, to rougher play, both sub and dom dynamics, giving and receiving multiple Os, breaking pleasure records, within shorter and longer sexy sessions. I can get into erotica, writing, talking aloud, discussing fantasies, learning your kinks. I often get ideas to give my lover more and better pleasures including designs for toys/furniture, ways to keep her happily cumming and cuddling. This site has interesting info, useful to see diversity of women's labia, and many are the larger range I prefer. (NSFW)
I'm cute, fit, fun/ny, 5'11", hygienic, healthy, white with blue eyes, brown hair, soft beard (for now), single with no kids. I enjoy reading, documentaries, podcasts, comedy, cooking, nature, hiking, exercising, science, arts. Keeping healthy is a passion of mine, including a whole-plant food diet, yet I may be open to 420/drinks during loving. While playing together, I like to listen to/make DJ mixes with styles including chillout, chillwave, deephouse, indiedance, nudisco, dubtechno, dreampop, downtempo, synthwave, ambient and open to other music. What are some of your favorite music genres/bands/songs? (No one ever answers this question :)
If you relate to what I wrote, we can use the Reddit live DM/PM to decide if we want to verify with voice, pics/live video, etc. I may be open to distance, but prefer Los Angeles losangeles LA L.A. SoCal, Ca
submitted by LabiaMinoraLover to r4r [link] [comments]

2023.04.02 10:22 toastymctoast10 The chain cutter

Watonga City, Mothers realm
April 3rd, 2291
8:30 pm
Diana landed outside the city, Frank disembarked and explained why the bloodthirsty creature was not a threat, all the while Wendy watched. She had felt something off about Oklahoma as soon as they neared its borders, her ears rang at random times, and she had nightmares of mutants. She had kept these things to herself as she had not wanted to worry Frank but now, they were becoming unbearable, her ears rang as Frank stood there calming the crowd but then suddenly stopped.
"Welcome, we've been expecting you two!"
Wendy looked to see a woman in her Middle Ages approaching her the crowd.
"I'm so sorry for the crowd we don't often get visitors around here."
"It's alright. But what do you mean you have been expecting us?"
"You're Sarah’s little boy toy, right?"
Frank stood up straight upon hearing Sarah’s name.
"I'm Victoria...I'm somewhat in charge around here. Please come in. And bring that thing in here..."
Frank turned to Wendy and nodded towards her. Wendy took the reigns and tapped Diana slightly to go forward. However, the griffon did not budge. She did it again and once more nothing.
"Diana come on."
The griffon sat down and shook Wendy off of it before unfurling its wings and flying up into the sky.
Frank ran over to Wendy who sat on the ground.
"Hey you hurt?!"
"Why would she do that?"
"I don't know maybe she's not used to cities being full. Look we can find her after. This is the destination."
"Wait what?"
"We made it."
Frank helped Wendy off the ground and led her to the small gate that surrounded the city.
"I'm so sorry for the trouble of you coming here...we tried to make the trip to you but there were....complications."
"So, I take it you know about her?"
"Yes, she's a am I and many others here."
Wendy looked up at the woman.
"You're a psyker too?!"
"Yep, I can influence people with my voice. It's how I got honcho here to trust me so easily at first."
Wendy turned to Frank who now realized just how relaxed he was earlier.
"We call it harmonic have electrokinesis it's a rare trait here...but out west more common."
Wendy looked around the city, everything was so clean and pristine. These people were thriving, and Frank even seemed to agree.
"So, where's this training facility of yours?"
"It's by the capital building, we call it the chapel."
("Frank so what now?")
Frank shrugged.
"So do you guys get a lot of issues from Texas?"
"The occasional border skirmish with them but we can charm them away mainly. We are very isolationist...we tend to keep to ourselves and so we do not tolerate violence much. We have few guns to be honest. Only our army and guards carry them."
"I can respect isolationism but only trusting weapons in the hands of certain individuals is an issue."
Frank smelt a small nudge and turned to his left. Wendy mouthed to him.
*Shut up*
"No, it's fine, we're all our own individuals after all."
"How did you?"
"Oh, and would you look at that we’re here already."
Wendy looked at the building, it was large and covered with lavish ornaments.
"So why do you call it the chapel?"
"We worship our mother here."
"Yes, she grants us ideas, instructions and much more. I will lead a sermon tomorrow if you wish to see more."
"You wouldn't happen to know of a Dorkin's would you?"
"Dor....oh the apostate.... yes he was a good man, but he grew radical wanted to create a society ruled by mother. We banished him almost a decade ago, I heard he established his own branch of our church in Utah."
"We had a few run ins with his men just...curious if you were connected."
"No, you're safe...we're not as radical in our beliefs."
Victoria led them up the stairs and into the chapel throwing the golden doors open.
"Welcome....this is our, training ground and your new home Wendy"
"Wait home?"
"Yes, you are staying with us, right?"
Wendy turned to Frank and looked at him.
"Can he stay too?"
Victoria's eyebrows frowned for a second.
"Of course.....he's more than welcome to."
"I can stay...still need to clear my name back in NCR anyway, bastards still think I'm a murderer."
"Then that settles it, the rooms are up the stairs and to the left, they're all empty right now as school is out of session so you can pick one for the time being then come join us for dinner."
Frank and Wendy thanked Victoria before walking off to find two rooms.
"I'll pick whatever is closest too your room got it?"
"Yeah...hey so how are we going to find Diana?"
"We won't have to, she's right outside."
Frank walked over to a window and pointed up to the sky. A large creature flew in the silhouette of the moon.
"She refuses to come in, so she'll probably just be in the area hunting local fauna, you made her promise not to eat random people, right?"
"Yeah, I did."
"Alright well...leave your stuff and let's go eat dinner, chef Kingly can take a break."
Wendy chuckled as she opened the door and threw the bag onto the small bed. The room was small and cozy, there was a sink and a bar of soap. A small toilet was on the other side of the room surrounded by more luxurious items.
"I could get use to this."
As Wendy touched the counter her head throbbed, and her ears rang. She closed her eyes tightly as the pain hit her head. She groaned and grabbed at her head trying everything to make the pain go away. Then the smell hit her, it was horrendous, her stomach curled, and she grew nauseous.
"Wendy you alright?!"
A image flashed in her mind, a giant conglomerate of flesh and machinery held together by old wire and sinew. She opened her eyes and screamed out in horror Frank stood over her as she lay there.
"Hey kid you alright?!"
He looked at her worried.
"What happened?"
"You passed out. I heard you fall and came in here. Picked you up and placed you on the bed. You almost fried me, what happened, did you hit your head?"
The image of gore flashed in her mind.
"I... yeah...I hit my head on the counter."
"Well be more you still want to eat dinner? I can tell them to bring the food here."
"No, I'm fine.... let's go..."
Wendy got up off the bed and wiped the drool from her mouth.
"I am no doctor...but you had a seizure.... I think we should-"
"I said let's go!"
Wendy tied her hair back into a ponytail and threw water on her face quickly cleaning up before walking towards the door.
"If you insist."
* 15 minutes later
Frank and Wendy sat down at the table with Victoria. The dining room was luxurious, it was clean solid metal and gold.
"How do you guys afford this stuff?"
"It's all just stuff we've found in and around our city, Morgana has put it to good use. You guys must be hungry."
Victoria clapped her hands and a Mr. Handy appeared from another room holding 3 trays of food.
"Your dinner sir and misses."
“So, where is everybody else?”
“As I have said they are out on break usually I teach the classes and hold dinner but right now it's just us three.”
Wendy looked at her plate.
“What is this?”
“Salmon from the shores of Texas.”
“Have you never seen a fish before?!”
Frank said tearing and cleaning the fish tail of any meat.
“Locked in a cage remember?!”
“Oh yes, those damn brutes in the NCR. I swear they have no manners; it must have been awful having all those tests done on you. I experienced a similar fate before the war. All those damn lab coats, poking and prodding at me.”
“Wait before the war?! old are you?”
Frank looked up from the fish and looked back and forth at Wendy and Victoria.
“Cannot say really. I like to think I am young, but my age occasionally shows Morgana is the beautiful one. But at my best guess I am around 226.”
Wendy sat mouth open as she looked at the woman who just shrugged off immortality.
“So, you can’t die or age?!”
“Age, no. Die, we very much can... its mother that keeps us this young, she uses her abilities to influence our cells to prevent the ones we love from dying, by natural means.”
“Oh, well what happened?”
“You said you were in a lab how did you escape?”
“Ahh yes...the great war, it short circuited the power to our cages.... we escaped and... we banished the scientists to the waste.”
Frank cleaned his hand as he looked upon the conversation, he was not a psyker so he simply sat quietly as the two talked.
“So, Wendy when did you learn to control your abilities? Sarah mentioned you struggled at first to close your mind to other thoughts.”
“I struggle slightly but I have managed to prevent it most of the time. I learned it when I was around 6. Then there was pyrokinesis at 8, and electrokinesis was more recent around a month ago now, and even closer was my ability to talk to beasts hence the griffon.”
Frank set his fork down.
“You could make fire this entire time and you’ve been making me struggle for 5 minutes to turn on an old stove every day!?”
“Yeah, I didn’t want to be our damn cooking tool.”
Frank sighed as he continued to eat. He was out of his league and so he quickly finished his meal and excused himself. He walked the halls for a bit, they were old slightly rusted but articulated well. Then he saw her. A woman in purple standing on a balcony smoking a cigarette.
“Hello there handsome.”
Frank felt worried then suddenly at ease.”
“Victoria had said it was just us 3 tonight. I take it you are not supposed to be here.”
“I go where I please, I designed this grand hall after all.”
“You must be the lovely Morgana then.”
“I see V mentioned me.”
“She did...she left out how beautiful you were though.”
“You outsiders really know how to flatter a girl.”
“I should, seduction is a trait I practiced well o-”
“Oh, there you are Frank, who's this?”
Frank blinked his eyes quickly then looked behind him to see Wendy standing there holding a small cup.
“When did you...never mind this is... Morgana....shes the designer of this grand hall...”
“A pleasure to meet you...but I must be going see you soon.”
“I thought she ordered you to seduce him?!”
“I tried, that little rat showed up. The reports were right Lysander, she is powerful, her mere presence broke my hold on him.”
“Not to worry. V still has a plan.”
“That girl is more powerful than any of us could have imagined, Dorkin's is right she’s better off dead even if it's not what mother wants.”
Lysander and Morgana opened the door to V’s room
Victoria shouted at her from behind before pushing them both in.
“HMM? YOU?!”
“No, V it's many have died for one gir-”
V walked over to the desk in the room as she stared at Morgana
“They have died for the Putrescent mother. If I hear more of this talk, I will have you killed for treason! Since you did not seduce and have the guardian fall in love with you, I must alter my plan to make him wish to stay, Lysander!”
“From my conversation with the vessel I have learned that her guardian is one with a strategic mind. In the morning show him one of our pleasant arms factories, but do not harm him. I cannot convince the vessel by force; she must do it willingly for the ritual to be complete.”
“I will do as told.”
“Why must we convince the guardian?”
“Her attachment to him is too strong. And she will not believe him just leaving so we must make it seem like he loves it here, so when we offer her the chance to bring prosperity her mind dwells on him not us.”
“I understand, V please allow me to try again. You must keep the vessel distracted long enough to-”
“No! You had your chance and unless he fails you shall live with that guilt, or you can join the Dowagers!”
“I understand...V I don’t like what you’ve become...”
“I’ve become what mother needs of me to become.”
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2023.04.02 10:18 WebCommissar Y'all need to lay off DeSantis, he's our best hope

I've been seeing a lot of comrades attacking Ron, and it seems that they're being serious. So, let me educate the ones not in the loop.
Ron DeSantis is our guy.
Dead fucking serious. He's our man on the inside. Now, his exact politics are ambiguous. It's hard to tell just where he lands on a scale of lib to leftist. However, the important thing is that he is not really conservative. He's successfully infiltrated the GOP via a carefully constructed persona and cunning theatrics. Let me explain.

A little background

First off, Ron was born and raised in Jacksonville, one of the largest enclaves of BIPOC culture in all of Florida. Ron's mother was a hippie and his father was a left-wing atheist, they even met at Youngstown State University (which was one of the most liberal colleges in the country at that point). There's a lot of information about Ron's upbringing, most notably his fascination with baseball (the national sport of Cuba) yet, curiously, there's very little on his Churchgoing life, or if he even attended Church at all. Nowadays he's quick to cite his attendance to the OLL Catholic High School, although it's ambiguous how much time he actually spent there. It's possible he wasn't there longer than a semester, if even that.
The point is, Ron was not born or groomed into conservatism like most Republicans are. Even after graduating Dunedin High School, he pursued a liberal education at both Yale and Harvard. It wasn't even until 2012 that Ron got involved with politics at all, running as a Republican in an overwhelmingly Republican district (6th congressional district), one that hasn't elected a Democrat since the party switch. He won, and proceeded to have a very uneventful, middle-of-the-road congressional career. He also married Casey Black, an openly feminist journalist and Charleston alumni with a major in Economics and a minor in French.
So, up until his bid for governor, Ron DeSantis has been anything but the typical Republican. In fact, he's been battling RINO accusations since as far back as Michael Cohen's political relevancy (if any of you even remember him). His actions are less consistent with a Republican ideologue and more consistent with someone who secretly loathes the party they're in but is trying to keep up appearances. A bit like an anti-Krysten Sinema, if you will. But, as the heading indicated, that's only the background. Let's get to the interesting part.

A series of Saul Goodman gambits

I know you've read about Ron in the news, or at least in posts here. I'm sure everyone here knows about Martha's Vineyard, LibsOfTikTok, the "war on woke". These would all be very fashy things if they were meant to succeed. But, that's just it: they weren't. Let's go down the list.
The Martha's Vineyard Stunt: Everyone knows about this act of cruelty: Ron kidnapped a bunch of undocumented latinx immigrants and stranded them in frozen weather. The left was outraged, the right was cheering and Ron became a hero to the conservative cause. But let's take a closer look. It's common knowledge in lefty circles that the undocumented immigrants were shipped from Texas to Florida, and then to Massachusetts. At first glance it's the actions of an extreme hypocrite: a xenophobe who complains of "illegals" swarming his home, but can't even find any within his own state. This wasn't by accident. Florida has 772,000 undocumented immigrants (source). Ron could have just much more easily found immigrants in Palm Beach or Broward, but he deliberately chose to 1) Subtly undermine his own stunt and give an optical victory to the left 2) Relocate dozens of undocumented immigrants out of Texas, one of the cruelest states to immigrants in general (particularly of a latinx background). Martha's Vineyard is one of the richest parts of one of the most migrant-friendly states in the country. No matter how you slice it, their lives are vastly improved and it was all done on Florida's payroll.
LibsOfTikTok: Here's a much shorter breakdown. When infamous TikTok Nazi and serial doxxer, LibsOfTikTok, got doxxed herself, Ron DeSantis publicly announced that he would offer refuge in his governor's mansion. He got a lot of praise from the right and scorn from the left. Then he didn't do it.
The War on Woke: Here's another long breakdown, although not as long as I had expected. Ron's made constant news coverage with his supposed "war on woke", a series of proposed laws and regulations that would criminalize leftist thought and persecute minorities. This is absolutely a terrifying force to be playing with. However, this is the point that I need to remind y'all: Ron went to Harvard. He graduated with a JD. These laws haven't just failed, they were designed to fail. You've heard of failproof? These were successproof, and intentionally so. The Reedy Creek board has no control over Disney, yet Ron gets credit for "taking down woke Disney". The "stop-woke" law targeting colleges couldn't even make it past a conservative judge. The supposed book bannings have even had the comical side effect of removing the bible from many Florida public schools, a matter which he had curiously not anticipated despite being the architect of their machinations. I'm sure many here assume that these outcomes are all the product of stupidity, but that's not the case. "But why make laws that aren't supposed to succeed?" Well, that's where things get really interesting.

Why would Ron do all this?

Isn't it obvious? Publicity.
It's easy to forget, but Trump is still the defacto leader of Republican Party. There's no sign of a mass exodus from him anytime soon. He is their strongman, he is the new Reagan. Forget Biden, Trump is Ron's final boss. It's also easy to forget that Trump gets billions worth of publicity for free. Nobody can afford to compete with that, not conventionally. Ron is trying to beat Trump at his own game. But there's a clear difference between the two: Trump is a true Republican and has been his whole life. Behind every zany university scam is a trail of ruined lives and stepped on people. Trump has left behind a verifiable trail of destruction. But DeSantis? His big ploys for attention have been victimless. He gave a better life to undocumented immigrants. He wooed right wing voters with authoritarian laws that had no chance of coming to fruition. He's boasted about making the GOP stronger while undermining it every step of the way.
Even John Oliver's Ron DeSantis segment had trouble making substantial criticisms of him. I think this is perhaps because the Last Week Tonight staff are more thorough in their investigations than most legitimate journalists. For example: in the entire 30 minute segment, not once did John ever mention Martha's Vineyard or LibsOfTikTok. In fact, one has to wonder if John is in on it when he spent most of the time playing up Ron's "conservative strongman" persona in a way that would actually make him appealing to the Republican voterbase. In fact, if you watch that segment with the idea of it being pro-DeSantis propaganda, it's actually more effective than it was as a liberal hitpiece. John even felt the need to mention that Trump is the worse between the two.
Which brings me to my final point, and possibly the most important:

What is Ron's relationship with Trump?

That's a topic that the media has been musing over for the last year, but it's really not that hard to figure out. Early on, everyone talked about the "rivalry" between the two. This rhetoric heated up as Trump's jabs at him became meaner and even borderline slanderous. Yet Ron has been careful not to fight back, even attempting to be cordial with Trump.
So, that means Ron likes Trump, right?
Dead wrong. Dead fucking wrong. The biggest piece of evidence that Ron does not like Trump is the fact that he's gearing up to run in 2024 at all. He's only 44 years old. There's no urgency for him to run in 2024. The only reason he would have to dedicate himself to such a clusterfuck of a year is that it's likely his only chance to usurp Trump. Does anyone really expect such a decrepit, out of shape piece of shit to run in 2028? 2028 would likely be easier for Ron, who will only be 48 (an actual child compared to most presidential candidates). Plus he wouldn't be running against a Dem with the incumbent advantage.
No matter how you slice it, the only way Ron's 2024 bid makes any sense is if you view it as pure spite against Trump.
But that circumstantial evidence isn't enough. Instead, I'd like to allow Ron to speak for himself. On the topic of Trump's indictment, Republicans (even supposed "never Trumpers" like Romney) have been outspoken in defense of Trump. Well, with one notable exception. When asked about his thoughts on Trump possibly being the victim of political persecution, DeSantis (who is not one to pass up an opportunity to speak out about Democrats) only had this to say:
He's trying to do a political spectacle … I've got real issues I've got to deal with here in the state of Florida (source)
Ron DeSantis was practically given the chance to woo the Trump voterbase. And yet, a man known for being thunderous and commanding instead responded with... silence. It's perhaps the loudest silence of all: the silence of endorsement.
I rest my post.

TL;DR Ron DeSantis' inexplicable and sometimes illogical political career is a carefully crafted, carefully acted ploy to undermine Trump and possibly the GOP as a whole.

submitted by WebCommissar to VaushV [link] [comments]

2023.04.02 09:00 newgoose34 Pansy & olive branch

Are pansy and olive branch the same smell? I’ve heard mixed things and I LOVE the pansy lotion so I’d be interested in trying olive branch if it is the same.
submitted by newgoose34 to LushCosmetics [link] [comments]

2023.04.02 08:55 TheThirteenShadows My School's Walls Had Names

Ms Robinson had always been…eccentric. You wouldn’t notice at first; her wavy brown hair, grey eyes and radiant smile usually set people at ease when they saw her, but sooner or later her quirky nature would always give in.
“Her name is Gertrude, his name is Herbert, and would you please stop flirting with Ruby over there Samuel? You have a boyfriend.”
Seem ordinary? It does, doesn’t it? Until you realize that Gertrude’s the name of the back wall of our classroom, and Herbert is the ceiling. Ruby’s our resident leftie, if you’re wondering. Not my fault there was only one seat available that day.
Most parents would’ve killed to have her removed. Most parents are idiots. Ms Robinson was fun, energetic, and one of the best teachers I’d ever had. You’d be hard-pressed to find another teacher with such a passion for their subject as Ms Robinson, which only further cemented her abilities as a more-than-competent teacher.
Which was one of many reasons I’d always chosen to ignore the less funny facets of her teaching regimen. Such as the near-obnoxious amounts of perfume that was constantly being sprayed around the classroom. You couldn’t enter the place without at least one tear rolling down your cheeks. When I asked her what it was, she just said that the janitorial staff were testing out new cleaning products.
“And they couldn’t have done it in a classroom that wasn’t being used?” I asked, strapping my face mask on.
“Common sense isn’t as common as you might expect,” she muttered, obviously displeased. “You’d think they’d learn the first time.”
When I turned back to ask her what the hell that meant? Ninja-disappearing trick. Never gets old, until it does. And with Ms Robinson, it got old fast. Like, ‘this is the hundredth time this week!’ kind of fast. Every time I tried to ask her about the smell, or the creepy groans, she just vanished.
Oh, I didn’t mention the creepy groans? They happened when I was alone, or when the class was actually silent. Sometimes, when we were really bored and the teachers were out, we’d tell them to shut up or groan back. That usually made them quiet down.
Or, at least, they used to. Now…I’m not so sure. Now, I think I’m noticing patterns that I never knew of before. Strange patterns. I didn’t even notice it at first, until one of my friends pointed it out for me.
“Hey, you haven’t seen Annie at school lately, right?” Stephanie asked, fiddling nervously. My brows furrowed. I hadn’t, actually. Annie and I weren’t close or anything like that, but it was weird of her to skip school for two weeks straight. Even weirder was the fact that, when we checked, nobody knew what was happening.
Apparently, her parents packed up and left in the break or something. We got a new student though. Mark. Ms Robinson had Marky seated to the far back of the classroom, saying that Annie would like the company.
Sometimes I can’t believe how stupid I was. Maybe it was the fact that I’d known Ms Robinson for so long. It felt impossible to me that she might be anything other than good. I keep trying to tell myself it wasn’t my fault. I was a child, trying to survive my high school years.
But that doesn’t stop the memories. It doesn’t stop the pain, the guilt, the shame. It doesn’t stop me from curling up into a ball every time I remember it, screaming until the sounds fade away and the only thing I hear is my own pitiful sobbing.
There’s a storage room in my school that nobody goes to. People say it’s haunted or something, and that’s why everyone, even the janitors, stay far away from it. My friends thought it would be funny if I were to stay back in school.
Obviously, I wasn’t too pleased with the prospect of spending what could’ve been a productive/fun night in the Hellscape we call our second home, but the five thousand bucks they threw in helped sweeten the pot.
The plan was simple. While everyone else left the school, I’d be hanging back in the storage room until six in the morning, at which point I’d head out using my friend’s key (long story that we really don’t have time for). My parents were out of town so it would be fine.
“Careful. I heard there’s ghosts down there,” Jack joked, handing me a bottle of water before he left. I downed it in one gulp.
The storage room was surprisingly comfy, to be perfectly honest. Sure, a little cold, but nothing like I expected. Best of all was the smell, or lack thereof. After spending years being assaulted by ridiculous amounts of perfume, it was a welcome change. I plugged in my earphones and waited to fall asleep, my alarm already set for 6 AM.
It was midnight when I heard the scratching. I tried to ignore it at first. Maybe a cat or something got in? I couldn’t do anything about that, so I just tried my best to fall back to sleep. I failed, and ended up doing a few stretches when I heard something else. Something darker.
Her voice was distant, and yet so close I could feel her breath on my nape.
I sat there, waiting for a reply. Possibilities rolled through my mind. A prank? Possible, but unlikely. My friends had a 5-mile radius policy set as soon as school ended. Maybe they put some kind of timed recording?
I looked around the storage room. The place was spartan. Nowhere you could hide a recorder. I sighed, and turned on my phone flashlight. For a moment the light burned into my retina, and I stood against the wall, dizzy and blind.
A few moments passed, and when the spots in my vision began to clear, I felt vertigo hit me like a freight train on steroids. The room had become narrower? Or longer? I wasn’t sure, but something was wrong. I staggered forward, and the room twisted again.
I kept walking, trying my best to make sense of this strange spatial anomaly. Using my phone as a flashlight, I managed to navigate the corridors. I’d have time to wonder what the hell this was about later. Right now, I needed to find a way out.
The words kept echoing in the back of my head. I screwed them shut, trying to focus. But it wasn’t working. The world kept turning and changing around me. Sometimes I saw hands crawling out of the walls. Sometimes they came from the floor. Some were skeletal, others were made of decaying flesh and blood.
What was happening?
I must’ve walked for hours. No, tens of thousands of hours. But the nightmare showed no sign of ending. Would I be trapped here forever? Would I never get to see sunlight again, or tell my parents I loved them?
I got my answer when the storage room door opened.
“Samuel?” Ms Robinson asked breathlessly. “What do you think you’re doing?”
I couldn’t answer. I just fell to the ground, too tired to say anything.
When I woke up, the doctors said I’d hallucinated. Apparently my ‘friends’ had drugged me with some kind of hallucinogen, and that’s what caused my hallucinations. I fainted because I’d spent three hours walking in the same room. I’d crashed into the wall at least twice.
The water bottle, I realized.
The rest of the school year was as normal as ever, except my parents freaked out and grounded me for life. That was years ago.
I’m 25 now, and this story had never been of particular importance to me until now. I mean, sure, it’s fun to say at parties: hey, did you know I got drugged that one time? And you thought your story about sharks was scary!
But now, now I don’t want to think about it at all. I thought those voices had been hallucinations. I was wrong. A few weeks ago, the school was being renovated for something. One of the workers apparently fainted on the spot when he saw what was behind one of the walls.
Kids. Hundreds of kids. Some were nothing more than skeletons now. Others were rotting and decayed. And you want to know the worst part? Some of them were still alive. Theirs’ were the most horrifying faces I have ever seen.
The chemicals had been the school’s way of stopping the smell and infections. Those voices? The kids, trying to cry out for help. The walls were thin enough that they could speak, but judging by the state they were in, even breathing would’ve been difficult.
The police still aren’t sure how the hell they did it. Whatever it was, it was designed so that nobody would ever figure it out. Some of the kids weren’t even from our town. All of them matched missing case reports from the last fifty years, ranging from our town all the way to…I don’t even know.
Gertrude Gilbert.
Herbert Jennings.
Annie Myers.
The police have no suspects. No leads. Ms Robinson is gone, along with the rest of the faculty. I have no idea how this hasn’t made national news yet. I’m afraid it never will. Nobody likes to admit when they make mistakes, and trusting Ms Robinson was our greatest mistake of all.
submitted by TheThirteenShadows to horrorstories [link] [comments]

2023.04.02 08:20 Persistent_One Assaulted by Temecula Hair Stylist. Any advice?

Hello, here to seek advice and also, perhaps, share a warning of something that happened in our community.
It was about 5:25pm on Tuesday 3/28 when I looked down at my phone. My beautiful and amazing wife was calling but my phone was on silent. She was at a hair appointment and I was surprised it was already over. I swiped to answer and simultaneously noticed she had tried to call me 5 previous times within the last minute. What I heard on the other end, I never want hear again... ever. She was crying hysterically, screaming "Come, Help ME! He cut my hair! He cut my hair! Call 911!" Immediately, I was grabbing my keys and running to my truck. "I'm coming honey, I'm on my way!," I exclaimed. I hung up and started dialing 911.
My wife's hair was 32inches from the top of her head to her butt. It would be what a hair stylist would call "Extra-Long". We have recently moved to Temecula, so she was visiting a new stylist; one she had scoped out. He had good reviews, good prices, and had many photos of hair colored the way she was looking for- dark brown base with blonde streaks. She has had it this way as long as I've known her. She doesn't do much for herself, so when she gets her hair colored every 4 months, it is a big deal.
She met with the stylist for a consultation, and he said he could and would provide the service she was looking for, and that she would be very happy with the outcome. So, on the day of the appointment she sat in his chair for 2 hours as he performed his hair services, chatting about things as most would during a hair appointment. They spoke of family, Faith, and the community. He mentioned that he had been in business for 40 years, and that he has had 5 previous shops. She was undoubtedly excited about how her hair was going to turn out.
When the color treatment was over, he began to wash her out in his sink. He told her that he had never had someone in his chair with hair as long as hers and asked her if she wanted a cut. She quickly said no, as she hardly ever cuts it. So, they moved back to the chair and he pulled out the mirror. She saw the color was absolutely not what she wanted. Her hair was very dark, with blue/gray streaks all throughout. She told him, "this isn't good, this isn't what I wanted." She asked if would re-do it. He was reluctant and responded with hostility. He started grabbing at her and taking a hot straight iron to her hair. "You'll see, you'll see," he expressed. She said "no, please re-do it." Angerly and still grabbing at her, he said "You want me to re-do it, pay me $500, Zelle, now!" Even though the initial visit was going to be $160, and $500 is way more than she would ever pay normally, at this point she would pay anything not to leave the salon in this fashion. She said "fine, do whatever you need to do." Before she could pay him, however, she became scared.
He was standing over her, aggressive and tense, and in her close proximity. "It will be fine, you'll see," he continued. She needed to escape, so she stood up and just like that, he grabbed his scissors, reached and cut at her hair. She looked down and saw a lot of her hair on the ground. "WHY did you do that!?!," she screamed. "I smelled trouble," he said. She gathered her things and ran for the door and fell to the sidewalk outside his shop, crying and screaming hysterically. The man followed her, untied and pulled his apron off of her. At some point, he told her "you don't like it, sue me!" and ran back in and locked his shop doors.
She called me at this moment, and I drove as fast as I could around the corner to the shopping center. I was speaking to 911 dispatchers and explaining that the stylist had just assaulted her and she was in dire need of help. I found her on the ground, absolutely distraught. This beautiful woman did not deserve this. I held her as she cried. I looked up and saw this man in his shop, taking pictures or recording video with his cell phone through the glass walls. My wife asked me where the police were, so I tried to call again. The dispatcher said they were on their way and be patient. I went to the window to yell at the man. We were 2 feet from each other, separated by glass. Since he had locked his doors, I couldn't go in. So, I was telling him "come out, the police are coming and are going to want to talk to you!" But he wouldn't come out. Lucky for him because I would have gladly opened up a can for messing with my wife. I said "why did you do this?" and he said, "because she wouldn't pay!" I pulled out my wallet and said "you want money? you would hurt a woman, for money? you are evil and have evil in your heart." He could obviously care less as I watched him sweep my wife's hair from under his chair, bag it up, and walk out the back door of his shop.
Riverside County Sheriff's Deputies arrived and assisted my wife. They took a statement from her and were kind and professional the whole time. They took photos of the damages. This man had cut over 12 inches of her hair off! They explained that even if he thought she was leaving without paying, he couldn't legally cut her hair like that. They left us with a card and a case number and explained that we could call the DA's office in about a week to see how the charges were going. And then they left.
And here we are. My beautiful, lovely and amazing wife is so distraught. It's been 4 days. She's waking up crying. She's sad and feels the pain from the trauma all day. She's emotionally devastated. We each missed work the following day as she saw another hair stylist to fix what could be fixed. But she doesn't feel okay. She's reached out for therapy. We've called lawyers for legal consultation and have learned that we can seek criminal action against him, which we've already started by pressing charges. We've learned that we can civilly sue him, but every personal injury lawyer we've talked to has said this is unique and not worth it for them to take on. They all say the same thing, that there is a lawyer out there that will, but that they don't have the bandwidth for something like this. They all tell us that we can, at last resort, take him and his business to small claims court. Which may likely be what we do.
I filed a complaint on the CA State Board of Cosmetology and Barbering explaining everything mentioned here. Hopefully, that at least helps to not renew his license.
But, retribution is necessary here. Someway, somehow. I want to see my wife feel whole again. This woman is an angel. She cares for disabled adults and hardly does anything nice for herself. She is her children's whole world and mine too. She deserves retribution for this pain inflicted by this monster.
Any advice on what we should do? Has anyone ever gone through something similar?
submitted by Persistent_One to legaladvice [link] [comments]

2023.04.02 08:01 isthistheteasis What would you do in this situation?

You’re a hairstylist and work at a salon. A mom and her teen 16-17 daughter come in. The mom refuses to let her daughter have what she wants done, ie… a certain cut or dye. We could even assume the mom is arguing with her daughter trying to convince her to get a certain cut. It’s also obvious this mom will never let her daughter dye her hair. Would you tell the mom to leave and do as the daughter requests or would you simply just let the mom win? What would you do? Let’s also assume the mom does have the money and she’s just not wanting to let her child change her hair due to control issues.
submitted by isthistheteasis to ask [link] [comments]

2023.04.02 07:59 bestofluck99 Extremely unorthodox situation

I got into Georgia tech (scheller). I will probably study finance there, but may study industrial engineering or possibly even both. I have heard it’s not a target for investment banks. Is this true? If it’s not a target, would I have good chances to land NYC top tier investment banks (GS/MS etc) if I get a near perfect GPA, have a very senior position in the investment committee- a large student run fund that manages 1.8 million dollars and pursue the following internships?
  1. A top tier IB internship- I have already had a bit of interest from MS.
  2. A senatorial internship- already did a congressional one and should have decent odds at this.
  3. A PE internship at a mid sized firm
Already I have this 👇 going for me, but would it matter to top tier investment banks?
  1. constructing a complex quant trading system that turned my 4500$ investment to 43k and made fam 53k. Because of this I was featured on a pretty big financial network and one of the most sold finance magazine on Amazon.
  2. A congressional internship
  3. Lead a team which researched the correlation between crime and street lighting. I have presented parts of our research before in many meetings with local business leaders, concerned citizens and commissioners. I testified before my cities committee that deals with this and presented a summary of our findings.
  4. Nonprofit organization founder and president. The organization promotes financial literacy among America’s youth thru online content. Very good chance for partnering with some boys and girls club branches in my area.
  5. Amazon seller business: 5 figure profit and revenue
  6. Internship for technology start up . CEO really famous sports trainer. Worked right under him. Did a lot of consulting, profit and scale optimization.
  7. Internship for nonprofit. Organized and managed events with 200+ people.
I also got a 1540 sat and have 5 ap exam scores- all 5s and 4s.
How much impact if any would these 7 ecs have? Would potentially some and not others help?
Overall considering my past ecs, and if I can get the internships I mentioned above, a high ranking role on the investment committee, as well as a bear 4.0 gpa, would I be very likely to land a top tier NYC at a top Wall Street institution EC JPM, MS, GS, Top asset management firms etc?
submitted by bestofluck99 to FinancialCareers [link] [comments]

2023.04.02 07:51 EriDxD Are Ossetians considering Asians?

I'm from Lithuania. I'm half-Lithuanian half-Ossetian and like many half-Lithuanians, my mom is Lithuanian (duh) and my dad is a foreigner (I don't have dad BTW). I look more like ethnically ambiguous, either Caucasian (from Caucasus region not the race), South Asian or even Southeast Asian. When I was a teenager, I was teased by boys at school and they called me "Indian" and "Chinese" because I look a lot like a foreigner than Lithuanian, I was the only ethnically mixed student in my class. And to be fair, I feel like I more like a foreigner than Lithuanian, especially by my facial features (olive-yellowish skin tone, dark brown eyes, thick black eyebrows, dark brown hair and dark hairy body) and Lithuanian society treated me like a foreigner than Lithuanian, probably because my dad is a foreigner and doesn't have Lithuanian type looks/facial features. Thus, in Lithuanian society, mixed Lithuanians with LT moms-foreign/non-white dads (like me) are not seen as pure Lithuanians, therefore are considering as foreigners.
I googling about Ossetians, and they are related to Iranian or Turkic people but not sure if they are considering Asians because the Caucasus region are located in West Asia. So users, I wondering are Ossetians considering Asians? If it's true, am I a Hapa?
submitted by EriDxD to hapas [link] [comments]

2023.04.02 07:28 LabiaMinoraLover 35 [M4F] #LosAngeles Romantic, cute blue eyes seeks sweet, smart, pretty girl who has "outies"💋, a fuller flower🌸, longer pretty petals🌷, butterfly wings🦋, heart shaped kitty lips 😻❤️

I seek a younger woman I like to make smile, loudly, who is my pleasure to please and make so happy that we will want to be exclusive. I'm patient to gain trust, to build a connection by communicating and seeing if there is potential attraction. I'm open to begin as platonic friends, hanging out, dating, growing to be lovers, even LTR, whatever we desire. I like spontaneity, creating chemistry highs with teasing to pleasing, almost anytime, anywhere, once we are sure of our attraction. I like sharing affections, cuddles to kisses, to earn my turn, to prove myself, giving massages to multiples and more. Offering this munch loving makes me seek someone special, perhaps a shy inexperienced woman curious to explore the best feelings possible or a woman with an insatiable libido, yearning for one man to keep her full/filled.
For us to pursue things, I want attraction for more than just lust, to feel butterflies looking in each other's eyes, loving simply holding hands and spending quality time together. I like anticipating, feeling a non-stop romantic hunger, a primal passion in my belly that brings out the lover-giver in me (tho I love receiving too). For me, a spark starts with pretty eyes and smile, combined with personality, poise, voice tone, and even an accent. The eye shapes I prefer can be described as upturned, almond or cat-eyes (and any color). I like skin tones from white to dark olive tan skin. I like natural curves, in the right places on a thin to thick-voluptuous hourglass shape, natural bigger lips on your mouth and on your kitty (my username checks out-ies ;)
I'm cute, fit, fun/ny, 5'11", hygienic, healthy, white with blue eyes, brown hair, soft beard (for now), single with no kids. I enjoy reading, documentaries, podcasts, comedy, cooking, nature, hiking, exercising, science, arts. Keeping healthy is a passion of mine, including a whole-plant food diet, yet I may be open to 420/drinks during loving. While playing together, I like to listen to/make DJ mixes with styles including chillout, chillwave, deephouse, indiedance, nudisco, dubtechno, dreampop, downtempo, synthwave, ambient and open to other music. What are some of your favorite music genres/bands/songs? (No one ever answers this question :)
If you relate to what I wrote, we can use the Reddit live DM/PM to decide if we want to verify with voice, pics/live video, etc. I may be open to distance, but prefer Los Angeles losangeles LA L.A. SoCal, Ca
submitted by LabiaMinoraLover to AgeGapRomance [link] [comments]

2023.04.02 07:23 LabiaMinoraLover 35 [M4F] #LosAngeles Romantic, cute blue eyes seeks sweet, smart, pretty girl who has "outies"💋, a fuller flower🌸, longer pretty petals🌷, butterfly wings🦋, heart shaped kitty lips 😻❤️

I seek a younger woman I like to make smile, loudly, who is my pleasure to please and make so happy that we will want to be exclusive. I'm patient to gain trust, to build a connection by communicating and seeing if there is potential attraction. I'm open to begin as platonic friends, hanging out, dating, growing to be lovers, even LTR, whatever we desire. I like spontaneity, creating chemistry highs with teasing to pleasing, almost anytime, anywhere, once we are sure of our attraction. I like sharing affections, cuddles to kisses, to earn my turn, to prove myself, giving massages to multiples and more. Offering this munch loving makes me seek someone special, perhaps a shy inexperienced woman curious to explore the best feelings possible or a woman with an insatiable libido, yearning for one man to keep her full/filled.
For us to pursue things, I want attraction for more than just lust, to feel butterflies looking in each other's eyes, loving simply holding hands and spending quality time together. I like anticipating, feeling a non-stop romantic hunger, a primal passion in my belly that brings out the lover-giver in me (tho I love receiving too). For me, a spark starts with pretty eyes and smile, combined with personality, poise, voice tone, and even an accent. The eye shapes I prefer can be described as upturned, almond or cat-eyes (and any color). I like skin tones from white to dark olive tan skin. I like natural curves, in the right places on a thin to thick-voluptuous hourglass shape, natural bigger lips on your mouth and on your kitty (my username checks out-ies ;)
I'm cute, fit, fun/ny, 5'11", hygienic, healthy, white with blue eyes, brown hair, soft beard (for now), single with no kids. I enjoy reading, documentaries, podcasts, comedy, cooking, nature, hiking, exercising, science, arts. Keeping healthy is a passion of mine, including a whole-plant food diet, yet I may be open to 420/drinks during loving. While playing together, I like to listen to/make DJ mixes with styles including chillout, chillwave, deephouse, indiedance, nudisco, dubtechno, dreampop, downtempo, synthwave, ambient and open to other music. What are some of your favorite music genres/bands/songs? (No one ever answers this question :)
If you relate to what I wrote, we can use the Reddit live DM/PM to decide if we want to verify with voice, pics/live video, etc. I may be open to distance, but prefer Los Angeles losangeles LA L.A. SoCal, Ca
submitted by LabiaMinoraLover to AgeGapPersonals [link] [comments]

2023.04.02 07:01 EJRose83 Their long hair-drapped arms clung to the branches of a tree cloaked in the veil of night, all while their red piercing eyes stared at me menacingly from afar

I would describe it as a knowing look. Whatever malice these ember eyed creatures held, they stared at me with more than just hatred, there was intent to act and a knowledge of who I was in their unwaivering gaze.
They were here for me and it was the inevitable doom their presence implied that terrified me the most.
submitted by EJRose83 to Dreams [link] [comments]

2023.04.02 06:29 PrinceTamaki1 [SPOILERS PUBLISHED] Glamors and The Man in the Green Cloak

Something I found interesting after re-reading passages from ADWD and wanted to share.
Melisandre talks about glamors:
The strongest glamours are built of such things. A dead man’s boots, a hank of hair, a bag of fingerbones. With whispered words and a prayer, a man’s shadow can be drawn forth from such and draped about another like a cloak. The wearer’s essence does not change, only his seeming. -ADWD pg. 487
While the fingerbones obviously refer to Davos and his finger bones, what sent me down the rabbit hole was “a hank of hair.” I had seen that specific phrase before.
When discussing Jon Connington and his Targaryen pretender. Kevan Lannister expresses doubt:
“Kevan had been here in this very hall when Tywin had laid the bodies of Prince Rhaegar’s children at the foot of the Iron Throne….The girl had been recognizably the Princess Rhaenys, but the boy… a faceless horror of bone and brain and gore, a few hanks of fair hair. None of us looked long. Tywin said it was Prince Aegon and we took him at his word. – ADWD pg. 1103
I think this is indication of a possible glamoan Aegon escape. Not just the “hank of hair” phrase but the fact that a witness indicates that they didn’t look long – making a glamor more passible – they just didn’t scrutinize the second body.
Keep the hank of hair phrase in mind as I go on a tangent.
Melisandre mentions dead man’s boots and a bag of fingerbones. We know that Davos lost his fingerbones in the Blackwater and corpse looting is an everyday occurrence in the series. So I decided to look at the fingerbones which are an obvious allusion to Davos. Does this mean someone will glamour themselves into a version of Davos? Has someone already glamoured themselves into Davos?
That second line of questions prompted me to see if there was any indication that Davos isn’t Davos, which brought me to the man (or men) in the green cloak. There are 4 specific mentions:
· In the Prologue of ACOK, Davos is described as wearing a “well-worn green cloak, stained by salt and spray and faded from the sun.”
· There’s also a second man – the sallow man in a green cloak that meets with Arya, Yoren, etc. His face is not described, but we know he’s wearing a green cloak. ACOK pgs 84-85
· The third man in the series mentioned to have a green cloak (cloak is described as olive green) is Sandor Clegane. He’s infamous at this point so I don’t think too many people would mistake him.
· The last mention of green cloaks are Hightower soldiers.
At the Battle of Blackwater, we see Davos drowning. Immediately, the next scene is him waking on the Merling King spears.
“…he lay upon a stony strand beneath a spire of naked stone with the empty bay all around and a broken mast, burned sail, and swollen corpse beside him. The mast, the sail, and the dead man vanished with the next high tide…” ASOS pg. 71
In ACOK, we get this from an Arya chapter:
“The body of a soldier, swollen and shapeless. His sodden green cloak had hung up on a rotted log, and a school of tiny silver fish were nibbling at his face*.”* ACOK pg 210
Possibly indicating that this is the same corpse that “Davos” was next to when he woke and washed out during the high tide. This passage also fulfills the Patchface prediction:
“Here we eat the fish… Under the sea, the fish eat us…” ACOK Prologue.
Also when they inspect the man in the river, we get this:
Dobber found a leather purse in the dead man’s belt. Insider were four coppers and a little hank of blond hair tied up with a red ribbon*”*
Bonus mention of a lock (or hank) of hair tied in a ribbon is when Pate steals the key to the Citadel.
“Inside, Pate found a bag of silver stags, a lock of yellow hair tied up in a ribbon*….”* AFFC Prologue pg. 19
So who is the man in the green cloak found in the river? Was that the actual Davos and he truly drowned in the Blackwater? Is the Davos we’ve been following an imposter? Is this hank of hair the hair of Aegon and if it is why does the man in the green cloak have it?
submitted by PrinceTamaki1 to asoiaf [link] [comments]

2023.04.02 06:21 Ralfop 2 IN 1 ONE-STEP HAIR DRYER & VOLUMIZER LESS TIME, LESS DAMAGE:Dries and volumizes in on step for less heat damage and beautiful full bodies results.The unique oval brush design quickly creates volume at the root and beautifully full-bodied curls at the ends in a single pass, for salon blowouts

submitted by Ralfop to HANITSYPRODUCTS [link] [comments]

2023.04.02 06:08 CedarRain The Stalker of the Appalachian Woods

The howling wind was the only sound that pierced the deafening silence that had enveloped the Airbnb deep within the Appalachian Mountains. My wife Emma and I had been looking forward to this getaway with our friends for months, eager to leave behind the stress of our mundane lives in the city. But as the minutes ticked by, the creeping sense of dread that had taken root in my stomach only seemed to grow stronger.
The rustic cabin we'd rented was charming, its wooden walls adorned with vintage trinkets and photographs that spoke of happier times. It was tucked away in a secluded corner of the forest, providing us with the perfect setting for a week of relaxation, laughter, and reconnecting with our closest friends. Little did we know that this idyllic retreat would soon turn into a waking nightmare.
Our friends, Jake and Lily, arrived the following day, their excitement palpable as we gathered around the fireplace to share stories and reminisce about our college days. The warmth of their company was a welcome distraction from the unease I'd been feeling, but the momentary reprieve was short-lived.
The first sign that something was amiss came from the shadows that danced across the living room walls, their twisted forms leaving me feeling as though I were being watched. I shook off the paranoia and attributed it to the flickering flames in the fireplace, but the sense of being observed remained, lurking in the back of my mind.
The next day, as we hiked along the wooded trails surrounding the cabin, I couldn't shake the feeling that we were being followed. I could hear the crunch of leaves underfoot, the snap of twigs, and the soft rustle of the underbrush, but every time I turned around, there was nothing but the dense forest staring back at me.
That night, after a long day of exploring, we all settled into our respective rooms. As I lay in bed next to Emma, the darkness of our room seemed to grow thicker, more oppressive. I could hear her gentle breathing beside me, but it did little to soothe the panic that began to rise within me.
It was then that I heard it – a faint, almost inaudible tapping on the window. My heart raced as I forced myself to investigate, my legs trembling beneath me. I pulled back the curtains, expecting to find the source of the sound, but there was nothing there. Just the blackness of the forest, the trees swaying gently in the breeze.
The following morning, I shared my experiences with Jake and Lily, hoping to find some comfort in their disbelief. But as I spoke, I saw the color drain from their faces, their eyes wide with terror.
"We heard it too," Lily whispered, her voice quivering. "We thought it was just the wind, but... it sounded like someone was tapping on our window."
Jake nodded solemnly, his jaw clenched. "We didn't want to say anything, didn't want to scare you guys, but we've been feeling like we're being watched ever since we got here."
The four of us sat in stunned silence, our minds racing with the horrifying possibilities. It was then that Emma suggested we search the property, hoping to put our fears to rest. But as we scoured the grounds, we found something that only fueled our terror – a series of footprints leading from the edge of the forest to each of the cabin's windows.
The realization that we were not alone, that someone was stalking us from the shadows, sent a chill down my spine. We decided to leave as soon as possible, cutting our vacation short in the hopes of escaping the unseen menace that haunted our every step.
But the nightmare was far from over.
As we hastily packed our belongings, I noticed that the trinkets and photographs on the walls seemed to have shifted. The once-cheerful images now took on a sinister quality, their subjects staring at us with cold, unblinking eyes. The vintage trinkets that had charmed us upon arrival now appeared twisted and macabre, as though they were remnants of a dark past we couldn't quite comprehend.
Outside, the wind had picked up, and the once-tranquil forest seemed to come alive with a sinister energy. The trees creaked and groaned, their branches clawing at the sky like desperate hands. As we loaded our bags into the car, I couldn't shake the feeling that we were being watched, that the unseen stalker was lurking just beyond the tree line, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
With every mile that passed as we drove away from the cabin, I felt the weight of our terrifying experience slowly lifting from my shoulders. But the relief was short-lived. As we wound our way through the mountains, the dense fog that had settled over the road made it increasingly difficult to see. It was as if the forest itself was trying to keep us from leaving, to trap us within its dark embrace.
When our car suddenly sputtered and died, leaving us stranded on the side of the road, the terror that had been lurking at the edges of our minds came crashing down upon us. We were trapped, alone and vulnerable in the heart of the wilderness, with no way of knowing where our stalker might be hiding.
As we huddled together in the cold, the wind howling around us like a mournful dirge, I felt a sense of despair unlike anything I'd ever experienced. It was then that I realized the true horror of our situation – we were mere playthings for a predator that could strike at any moment, and there was nothing we could do to stop it.
The hours passed, each minute stretching into an eternity as we waited for help that might never come. The darkness of the night enveloped us, leaving us blind to the dangers that might be lurking just beyond the beam of our flashlight.
It was in that suffocating darkness that we heard the first whispers of movement in the forest. The soft crunch of leaves, the snap of twigs, the rustle of underbrush – all the sounds that had haunted our days in the cabin were now closing in on us.
My heart pounded in my chest as the sounds grew closer, the fear of the unknown threatening to consume me. And then, suddenly, a figure emerged from the shadows.
He was a tall, gaunt man with wild, unkempt hair and eyes that seemed to burn with a malevolent intensity. He moved toward us with a predatory grace, his long fingers clutching a rusted hunting knife that gleamed in the moonlight.
As he closed the distance between us, I knew that our fight for survival was only just beginning. We had to face the darkness that stalked us, to confront the nightmare that had been haunting us from the moment we'd set foot in the Appalachian Mountains.
And as the wind howled around us, drowning out our desperate cries for help, I could only hope that we would find the strength to survive the terror that had brought us to the edge of madness.
Emma, Jake, and Lily huddled together, their eyes wide with terror as the man approached us, his twisted grin revealing yellowed, jagged teeth. Instinct took over, and I lunged at him, desperate to protect the people I cared for most.
We fought, our struggle a chaotic dance of pain and fear, the knife glinting in the moonlight as it sliced through the air. The man was stronger than I'd anticipated, his grip like iron and his movements quick and nimble. But the adrenaline coursing through my veins lent me strength, and I managed to wrest the knife from his grasp.
With a guttural scream, I plunged the blade into the man's chest. He staggered back, his eyes wide with shock, before collapsing to the ground. As he lay there, gasping for breath, the once-menacing figure seemed to shrink, becoming nothing more than a sad, broken man.
We stood over him, our bodies trembling with a mixture of relief and horror at what we'd been forced to do. But our ordeal wasn't over yet. As we stared down at the man's lifeless body, the wind picked up, and the fog grew denser, as if the forest itself was mourning the death of one of its own.
We knew we had to keep moving. With the car dead and our phones unable to get a signal, we had no choice but to press on, hoping against hope that we would find our way to safety. We walked in silence, the weight of our actions heavy on our shoulders, the fear of what might still be lurking in the woods gnawing at our minds.
The darkness seemed to stretch on for an eternity, each step we took through the wilderness bringing us no closer to salvation. But as the first rays of sunlight broke through the canopy of trees, we finally stumbled upon a dirt road that led us to a small, remote town.
Exhausted, bloodied, and forever changed by our harrowing experience, we shared our story with the townspeople, who listened with a mixture of disbelief and pity. They told us tales of other visitors who had ventured into the forest, never to return, and of a local legend about a vengeful spirit that stalked the woods, seeking revenge for some long-forgotten crime.
As we left the town, grateful to be alive but haunted by the horrors we'd endured, I couldn't help but wonder if our tormentor had been a man driven to madness or something far more sinister. The truth, it seemed, would remain forever hidden within the shadows of the Appalachian Mountains.
In the years that followed, we tried our best to put the experience behind us. We rarely spoke of it, and when we did, it was in hushed whispers, as if speaking too loudly might somehow summon the darkness that had nearly claimed our lives.
But even as we tried to move on, the terror we'd faced in the Appalachian Mountains continued to cast a shadow over our lives. We could never truly escape the fear, the sense of being watched, the knowledge that somewhere out there, a malevolent force was waiting for us to return.
And so we remained, forever on the edge of our seats, haunted by the nightmare that had brought us to the brink of madness and left us with a lasting impression of horror that would never fade.
submitted by CedarRain to ArtificialNightmares [link] [comments]

2023.04.02 06:03 Future_Ad_3485 The Swallow and the Mad Hatter Part Six: Sins Haunt the Deepest Parts

Rows and rows of corn rustled in the early autumn breeze, eleven year old me danced around the farm. Glancing down at my hands, my eleven year old hands had replaced mine. The brief escape from my masters wouldn’t last long, dogs barked in the distance. Smoothing out my white sweater, my dark denim skirt fluttered in the breeze. Pulling my hair into a ponytail, I still needed more time. Sprinting into the corn, stalks smacked my face. Horror rounded my eyes, heavy paws crashed behind me. Skidding to a stop, my faceless master held me down, allowing the dogs to bite me. Tortured screams burst from my lips, their teeth sinking into my legs and arms.
“I’ll teach you not to run, Swallow!” His deep voice barked ferociously, the heel of his boot pushing my face into the dirt. “You belong to us! Boys, let’s go home. You have to walk home to get bites stitched up. See you if you make it.” Ditching me to bleed out, the sunshine changed to moonlight. Dirt covered up my hands, my body protesting as I struggled to my feet. Limping out of the field, an eleven year old boy with ruby eyes popped up in front of me. Running his hand through his onyx hair, he adjusted his top hat. Taking my hand, my eyes couldn’t leave his pinstripe suit.
“You won’t remember this but we will meet in the future. Hold on for a bit longer.” He promised lovingly, kissing my forehead. “I am going to heal you and you will keep marching forward. I am going to leave you with this.” Kissing my lips passionately, a bright light healed my wounds. The light died down, the boy was gone. I could run but where would I go? Home wasn’t an option, my hands crossing. Sinking to my knees, my fingers traced the layers of bruises and cuts on my skin. Pain was all I knew, the harsh whip of harmful words tearing me down by the day. Wiping away my tears, storm clouds brewed over my head. Time passed, the corn dying and growing in speed motion. Glancing down at them, my regular hands had returned. Eleven year old me walked out of the cornfield, her arms folded across her chest.
“Wake up and stop wallowing in the past!” She spat at me, her bare feet marching up to me. “Don’t be such a pathetic loser.” Inky blackness dyed her eyes, her form shifting to a glitching shadow. Clawed hands reached out to me, my clammy fingers playing with the hem of my blouse. Snapping his fingers, a force woke me up.
Jerking awake, the field of corn swayed in front of me. Patting my body, my usual outfit covered my body. My chest tightened, every breath shortening. Pale moonlight bathed the endless sea of corn, involuntary tears slid down my cheeks. Demy, I needed Demy. Struggling to stand, barking in the distance sent me ten feet in the air. Cupping my ears, a happy mutt ran up to me. His shaggy brown fur was matted with mud, a tag shining in the moonlight. Taking deep breaths, my heart rate settled down. Crouching down to his level, an address greeting me. Shifting through my magic boots, soft leather grazed my fingers. Pulling it out, the dog sat still while I struggled toclick it on. Walking him onto the street, storm clouds brewed over my head. A familiar energy sent chills up my spine, his tail wagging at an unassuming house. The canary colonial loomed over me, one light flickered in the window. The dog went berserk, his barks echoing in the night. Pointing the nose to the shadowy treeline, the glitching shadow figure stepped out of the shadows. Undoing the leash, a pat on his butt sent him back into the house.
“Let’s take this somewhere else. You called me and kidnapped a dog to get me to you.” I growled through a wall of tears, fighting the impending anxiety attack. “I want to fight you away from people. No deserves the chaos you can bring.” A sly grin danced across his lips, wicked laughter rumbling in his throat. Snapping his fingers, the home faded to the torched remains of the training facilities. The memory of me burning it down when I was eleven haunted my mind, the screams of the dying people broke me down in seconds. Collapsing to my knees, vomit flew up my throat. Circling me, his slow claps sank me deeper into my guilt.
“I was born here because of your sins. I am the combination of all the souls you killed that day. We want you dead. You don’t deserve happiness.” He barked bitterly, wrapping his arms around my shoulders. “You have to pay for your sins. There is no way you can have the fruit of a good life after what you did.” It had been an accident, my foot knocking down a candle on flammable chemicals the moment I fell in. Shaking my head, my body rocked back and forth.
“It was an accident!” I blurted out desperately, ripping his arms off of me. “I accidentally knocked over a candle and the flames landed into a vat of chemicals. I tried to warn everybody and you didn’t listen. You thought I was lying. It was your boss who said to let it all burn. Yell at him.” Ripping my head back, his mouth opened up. Ashes flowed into my throat, a coughing fit taking over. The dry material tasted horrendous, nausea wracking my body.
“Do you mind leaving my little Swallow alone?” Demy called out from the shadows, his gun aimed for the shadows head. “Hell of a trick you played there, buddy. Pulling somebody through their dreams. What do you have to say about yourself?” Cocking his brow, fury seethed in his eyes. The shadow refused to let me go, my past literally holding me back. Coughing up the rest of the ash, a stinger extended from his wrists. Pressing it into my neck, my vision blurred. Every cell in me wanted to die, the guilt eating away at my soul. So many screams rang in my ear, the crackling of a fire stealing me away from my current reality. Tears welled up in my eyes, my composure slipping away.
“Our only pathway to Heaven is to kill her so we can move on.” He hissed evilly, pushing it through my neck. “Your little swallow will soon be dead.” Ripping it out, blood poured down my neck. A cry from Demy snapped me back to reality, his bullet whizzing by my head. Mouthing a healing spell, the wound sealed shut. Jumping to my feet, the shadow popped up behind me. Jamming my elbow into his chest, he cried out. Clapping my hands, the three of us stood in the cornfield. The bad part is that we were separated, Demy’s voice calling out to me. Panic gripped me at the silence around me, knowing the next victim.
“Be quiet or he will find you!” I shouted over hooting owls, an idea coming to mind. Digging around with my boot, my fingers curled around my staff. Fire seemed out of the option, my mind moving to air. Slamming the tip of my staff on the loose dirt, a blast of air shot me closer to the moon. Scanning the field for Demy, the shadow and him were battling. Aiming my feet for the space in between them, a cloud of dirt obscured my clumsy landing. Confidence faded to horror, the shadow bursting into flames. Shoving Demy out of the way, his flaming hand grasped my arm. The smell of burning flesh nauseated me, the tip of my scythe slammed into his guts. Loosening his grip, his arm touched a stalk of corn. A steady stream of curse words flowed freely from my lips, the flames spreading with an alarming speed. The heat warmed up my cheeks, my angry burn screaming in protest.
“Rain from Hell, Shower us with the gift of water.” I chanted confidently, storm clouds thundering to life. Heavy raindrops crashed to the top of my head, a defiant grin spreading across my determined face. The flames died out before they hit the nearest home, black stalks smoking into the sky. The shadow stumbled back, my swift kicks knocking them to the ground. Pinning him down with my heel, the tip of my staff pressed into his neck. Extending his stinger, a shrill scream matched the next rumble of thunder as he jammed it into my leg. Unable to move my heel, ravens cawed behind me. The hair stood up on the back of my neck, Demy’s massive blade of his scythe stabbing us both. The shadow creature seized, his body decaying to dust. Copper poisoned my taste buds, inky blood staining my teeth. Wheezing, he ripped out from my stomach. Blood painted my blouse, his scythe swinging towards my neck. Blocking his attack with my staff, tears stained my cheeks. The wound refused to heal, my tone growing shakier by the second.
“Demy! Stop it!” I pleaded desperately, his scythe smashing into my staff. “Remember when you visited me when I was eleven! I know you lied about watching me a year ago. You have been watching me my whole life. You know everything about me and you chose to keep that a secret. I am not even freaked out by it. I need you to come back so I can marry you.” His hard expression softened, my staff splashing in the mud. Lowering his scythe, black smoke curled off of my palms. Helping him tuck it into his hat, the ravens flew back into his top hat. Our hair clung to his face, his shattered expression falling on my wound. Shivering in the rain, he guided my head to his neck.
“I am so sorry that I hurt!” He sobbed into my ear, my fangs extending over my lips. “Drink what you need to heal.” Sinking my teeth into his neck, his arms held me like his life depended on it. Drinking my fill, his eyes refused to meet mine. The rain hid his tears, my trembling hands placing his hat on head. A bright light sealed my wound shut, a wave of relief washing over me. Sobs shook our bodies, the two of us shivering. Cupping his face, my lips kissed him feverishly.
“Now it is my turn.” I wept softly with a quiet smile, his shame filled eyes not leaving my loving gaze. “I may have forgotten that day but your words kept me going. You didn’t do anything wrong, you simply lost control. Weapons can devour you if you aren’t careful. I can heal. Wounds end, my heart would break if you weren’t by my side. Please stay by my side.” Pressing his forehead against mine, his slender hand cupped my cheek. Taking a couple of deep breaths, a slight fear still haunted his eyes. The crunching of my calf bone fusing back together stole the moment, a fit of laughter bursting from our lips.
“I don’t really have a choice.” He teased blithely, his crooked grin melting my heart. “Je t’aime plus que le monde.” Understanding French, my heart fluttered. Scooping up my staff, it shrank back down. Tucking it into my boot, my hand took his. Dragging him out of the destroyed cornfield, the rain slowed to a stop. Tugging him along, his arm kept the branches from his scratching his face. Taking a couple of turns, his breath hitched at the sea of red and oranges spreading underneath the steely gray cliff. Sitting down on the edge, my head rested against his shoulder.
“This is where I always hid from them to get away from my masters before I burned the building down. I always had a place to go.” I commented serenely, his hand cupping mine. “I accidentally set the fire that day. The guilt eats at me everyday. What can I say?” Leaves rustled behind me, the hollow steps of my fellow co-workers boots weren’t that far behind. Pushing him off the cliff, my finger ripped out my staff. Gears whirred, the staff bending at a forty-five degree angle. A mix of golden and scarlet feathers burst from the metal frame, a metal bar coming down. Gripping the metal bar, I pulled myself up. Demy hung on for dear life, my slender fingers stealing his gun. Ripping it from his pocket, the gun hissed upon my touch. Crossing my legs, the scope helped me get a line of three them. Alarm widened my eyes, a helicopter floating up behind me. Leaning back, my aim quivered on the engine that I built. Undoing the safety, a quick yank of the trigger sent a bullet towards the gas tank. Flying up close to the open door, simple white masked assassins greeted me. Perfect, they were ranked lower than me. Evil laughter rumbled in my throat, a quick round leaving steaming bullet holes in the center of their forehead. Stealing their guns, the pilot shot a few rounds into my chest. The bullets made their way up my throat, the pilot soon realizing their mistake. Flicking a bullet in his direction, his body collapsed into a heap. The other assassins leapt off the cliff, metallic wings keeping them from falling to their death. Tucking Demy’s gun back into his pocket, only a few more seconds remained before the helicopter explosion would kill us both. Laying all the way back, my body was verticle to the ground. Counting the seconds, it would take one bullet to kill my enemies in one action. Lining the bullets into my fingers, my hand curled into the ready position. Three, two, one! Flicking my wrist, the velocity of my strength put a bit of heat on the bullets. Swinging myself underneath, Demy helped me steer us away from the impending explosion. A thunderous boom released a wild wind, the orange flames lighting up the sky. Control slipped away from us, the device crashing into a bed of branches. Blood and guts rained down with metal pieces, a blast of ice from my trembling palm putting out the flaming pieces before they touched the dry trees. Smiling warmly to myself, my staff clicked back to normal. Examining her for damage, nothing could be seen.
“That was a close one.” Demy laughed softly, kissing the top of my head. “Let’s find an open circle to draw us a way home.” Lowering ourselves down, our feet touched the packed down dirt. Pausing for a moment, it felt like a car had hit me. The emotional strife had caught up to me, a mental break down was sure to hit me later. Right now, we had to get home. Scrunching my nose up in disgust, blood and rain had soaked me to my bones. Another set of clothes was ruined, my thoughts beginning to run insanely in my mind. The motion of him placing me on his back stole me from my random train of thoughts.
“Let me take care of the rest while you get some rest. You did do most of the work after all.” He assured me with a playful wink, my head resting against his back. Branches crunched underneath his boots, his lips brushing against the tops of my hands. His clothing was just as torn as mine, my fingers tracing every shred. A shiver ran up his spine the moment I kissed the back of his neck. The moon traded shifts with the early morning sun, his endless hike resulting in an empty circle bathed in the orange rays of dawn. Setting me down the center, his hand danced in circles. The usual symbols stared back up at me, his knife guiding across my palm. Squeezing my hand until a shining pool of blood reflected our filthy faces, he guided my hand around. Dropping a pile piece of his ledger book from home, flames devoured the paper. A rush of air circled us, the woods of New Hampshire faded away to our bedroom. Still cupping my palm, his hungry eyes couldn’t stray from the fresh blood. Offering him my palm, his fangs sank into the tender flesh. Old Man Dallas poked his head in, his hand covering up his nose.
“I will have dinner ready in an hour. Get cleaned up and make yourselves presentable.” He twanged with his rich accent, smoothing out his staple white suit. “We have a job prospect coming tonight and she pays well. I will lend you one of my wife’s dresses from the fifties. You will probably just poof yourself a suit. Chop chop, my little beignets. We have a business to grow.” Setting a couple of dresses on the bed, Demy motioned for me to get cleaned up. Sprinting into the bathroom, the quick shower invigorated me. Drying myself off, a black and white polka dot swing dress hung on the door. Pulling it over my head, Demy poked his head in. Zipping it up for me, his slender fingers styled my hair into an intricate bun. Spinning me around, he kissed my forehead. Dusting off his clean suit, he adjusted my collar. One should feel shame but pride swelled in my eyes. Pulling a liquid liner out of his pocket, one simple flick on either side gave me a perfect cat’s eye. Clutching me close to his chest, he offered me my boots. Sliding my feet into them, his arm hooked around my elbow. Guiding me downstairs, his body stiffened at an elderly lady sitting to the left of Old Man Dallas. Her fucshia pink silk dress hugged her petite body, her wrinkles telling a twisted tale. Cloudy eyes followed my every move, her silvery blue hair rested in a perfect bun.
“I am Madame Seshunio, your next client and forever client if you do well.” She introduced herself with her nose up in the air, sliding over a card. “I came to drop off the order. As for my place to stay for the entirety of the job, Old Man Dallas offered me a room. In fact, I would like your room. I heard it is the second biggest. Perhaps you can sleep up in the attic.” My brows furrowed, Old Man Dallas’ stern gaze shut down my initial reaction. Unfortunately, he couldn’t tame Demy.
“I am not sleeping where they tortured those poor souls, Madame Sesheunio.” He snapped hotly, pulling out a chair for me. “We will sleep in the living room. Do not touch any of my things or I will place a curse on you. Do you understand.” Helping me sit down, an anxious maid brought out plates of steak and potatoes. Her gnarly hands cupped mine, mixed emotions flashing on her face. Tears stained her cheeks, a look of rage poisoning the softness of the sadness. Falling back, a look of horror plastered itself into my brain.
“You shouldn’t be alive.” She stuttered nervously, her shaking hands unable to pick up her fork. “So much tragedy courses through your veins, your mental state sure to bring you down. There is a light at the end of the tunnel, the Mad Hatter will marry the Swallow. Many children are dancing around you, their laughter filling the air.” A warm smile sweetened her features, Demy nudging my shoulders.
“I like you, Swallow.” She admitted freely, her eyes falling on Demy. “You tamed the Mad Hatter with a collar around your neck. You really must be something.” Cutting his steak, Demy’s words nearly made me choke on my spit.
“You did live here as a young lady when I showed up. You seem to be doing well yourself. How are the grandchildren?” He asked sincerely, bowing in her direction. “You did get me in trouble. You were like the sister I never had. How could I forget about the times we nearly gave him a heart attack?” Scanning the card, my eyes bulged at the reward for completing the job. My face fell at the job and its magnitude. Clearing out a sea of demons was the last thing I wanted to do, a long sigh escaping my lips. Why couldn’t I ever get a fucking break?
submitted by Future_Ad_3485 to NaturesTemper [link] [comments]

2023.04.02 05:30 Comprehensive-Sky465 Went in for full highlights appointment at salon, half of my head isn’t highlighted?

sorry if posts like this are redundant, but I’m wondering what would be the best course of action here.
I went in the salon last Tuesday to get my hair highlighted - I got the “full highlights”. I’ve been doing the full highlights for over a year now. I went to a different stylist/ different salon because I moved too far away to go to my usual salon.
Anyway, before we started the appointment I let her know that the highlighting is just to touch up my roots. I got home and I saw that my hair looked dark, especially towards the roots. Almost as if she barely did anything. Almost like she did the highlights VERY sparingly. Like even my roommates said that they are no difference in my hair from before, just than she toned the hair a bit, so my hair looks a little lighter than before (excluding the roots).
And it looks like she missed the back of my head entirely.. keep in mind I asked for full highlights, meaning around the full head.
I waited a few days to see if the highlights would become more noticeable over time but nope.
Someone once said that Ulta has a 1 week refund policy - so should I contact the store within the next few days and ask for a refund?
Or would it be better to have them fix it? If I go with this route, could I ask to see another stylist to fix it?
Any insight is appreciated 🙏
submitted by Comprehensive-Sky465 to Ulta [link] [comments]

2023.04.02 05:28 KingoftheRednecks Spears Among the Stars, ch 26

The first explosion came an hour before dawn.
It was the right time for an attack; everybody knew that. The guards are tired, most people are asleep, and those who hear something suspicious but aren't close enough to know it's an attack will find any excuse for a few more minutes' sleep. The attackers are wired up and ready, their eyes used to the dark, while anyone who was sitting around the fire will be night-blind.
This was common wisdom to the San, something they assumed everybody knew, but it may well have been thousands of years since the Sovereign Residence on Noepe saw attack. Those who saw the explosion still didn't see the attack—that had begun half an hour before.
Three groups had crept carefully through the grounds, taking advantage of the cover. A few irritating sling stones from a building across the plaza had gotten the larger animals up and roaring, batting at the bars of their cages to call attention and cover sounds, and from the sides the groups came in.
Showers of spears and slingstones took care of the guards, slingstones dealt with the sensors, and the San flowed over the wall as silently as they could manage. The guards were alert as they could be, but the San and the Kel both had hunted the forests and the mountains of home, hunted among hyenas and lions and wolves that hunted back, hunted the chamois and the ibex that could hear a misplaced foot with ease.
By the time a volley of laser fire dealt with the gate guards and knocked many off the walls, the invasion was already well under way and the guards knew it. Two of the groups—about three dozen each, one lead by Logog and one by Barab, circled the grounds, with slingers breaking every sensor they could find. A massive sortie from the building itself flowed into the courtyard, and after a single volley of spears the attackers retreated. Given the chance they might have been able to ambush the defenders, but there were too many, and they were not foolish. They kept their ranks together, rifles ready, and when a spear flew from the dark a dozen rifles centered on its source and three dozen more peppered laser fire all around it. The costs were heavy, especially since they brought no dogs. As lights came on they went out again, smashed by stones, but when the sun came up in the West the warriors retreated, four groups of thirty slipping back over the walls as other soldiers rushed to man them, getting clear before the air vehicles could get overhead and spot them. Explosions rocked the air, and other eggs fell inside the walls and short of them, spewing smoke and chaff.
At the walls, the battle did not go well. Some dozen of the San were killed and three or four times that many wounded, and aside from those picked off the walls the defenders suffered nothing. The gate guards were not all killed, and they managed to close the gate well before the San could run the gauntlet of plasma bolters and Klokin guns to reach it. The shields protecting the walls held up easily under barrages of exploding eggs, and before long the San retreated, then scattered, fleeing a thousand different directions into a thousand different areas of the city. Three or four dozen were seen immediately after in bars or restaurants, but the rest were quietly moving North, out of the city by a hundred different methods. Some even took trains back to Shangshen, where they could pick up the vehicles just in case.
Nobody really noticed the two dozen men and women who found their way in through a maintenance door.
The soldiers weren't truly so careless as to leave one open. The poor maintenance worker who opened it for them was now soundly tied and gagged. Higa had wanted to leave the woman there, but Mogan had let her see his spare knife, set it on one side of the storage room, and then carried her gently to the other side. She would be able to wiggle back to his knife and cut herself loose, but by the time she did they would be finished and dead or finished and gone.
Half of them brought pistols, including Mogan, but hoped not to use them. The 'pop' of expanding steam and burning impurities would be an instant giveaway that something was wrong, much less the sound of whatever a laser hit, and so they each walked with a spear nocked, eyes constantly moving.
Ellisan used her wristpad to map where they had been, but that didn't precisely tell them where they were going, and the moved slowly.
“Use your noses,” Mogan whispered. “This is a luxury place, yes?”
The walls were testament to that, covered in precious metals, beautiful woods and stones, with paintings and decorations. It seemed each room had a floor in a different style of wood or stone, and soft light kept everything illuminated.
“If we find where the food is cooked, where she eats it won't be far. They won't risk the food getting cool or warm from distance, right? Food and cleaning chemicals.”
It wasn't a bad idea, but that wasn't how they found the Governess. Two guards came around a corner, and whipped up their rifles, but it was too late. One of them managed an ineffectual shot into the floor before four spears hit him; the other didn't even get that before four slammed through him.
Even so, one shot was more noise than they wanted, and everybody froze, listening. Ellisan's eyes brightened, and she whispered.
Nobody spoke—perhaps straining to hear it themselves, perhaps waiting for her to explain.
“I hear it—wind going through... not branches—columns or rails, I guess.”
Mogan nodded. “Balconies.”
“Someplace you could look out at all your subjects,” Higa agreed.
“Maybe,” Mogan said, but it was all they had, and so they decided on going up. Someone suggested that after the attack Governess Shenya would be buried somewhere, in the most fortified part of the building, but Mogan knew better. They were rabble—anybody who didn't have a higher station than her was—and Shenya would not move for rabble, no matter the wisdom or necessity.
From what they could see the building was six stories high—presumably if they found stairs or a ramp it would go all the way up, but they had to find it first, and so they got moving again.
When they finally found the stairs, they found the second story even more opulent than the first. Mogan was certain that the walls of entire rooms were coated in precious metals, and one window big enough for him to stand up in was filled not with glass but entirely with gemstones.
It seemed that the second floor was better guarded, but Mogan presumed that there just weren't as many maintenance areas that didn't need so many guards. Whatever the reason or the implications, one guard managed a shout before whistling spears silenced him, and three more guards sprinted down the hallway into an ambush. It was more luck than they had a right to, and Mogan couldn't help thinking it could not last forever. He was right.
After the next three guards were downed and their rifles appropriated, there were a few tense moments of silence. The bodies downstairs had been stashed behind furniture, but there was no time to properly hide them, nor to clean up the bloodstains, and they couldn't go much longer before they were found. Worse, they didn't see any visual devices but had no idea what might be seeing them.
The San advanced, appropriating the guards' rifles as they searched for another stairway leading upwards. They snuck past walls entirely lined with exotic furs, displays of animal teeth and walls made of thin strips of tusk, others coated with material that looked like the inside of a clamshell. They saw no other guards, and Mogan found himself shaking his head. It made no sense.
And then, quite suddenly, it made perfect sense. Two walls slid almost instantly into the ceiling, revealing two dozen men and women with leveled laser rifles on each side. The officer, blue uniform decorated with gold braid and pistol in hand, smiled widely.
“You were looking for the governess, yes? Well, put down your weapons and we'll take you to her!”
The pistol leveled at Mogan's head. “Now, please.”
Two dozen warriors of the San walked up the staircase. They were disarmed and surrounded, but couldn't help feeling slightly amused. Walking up four flights of stairs had barely changed their breathing, while the Sylfa guarding them needed to catch their breath.
Mogan had muttered to them to keep quiet, and to wait for his signal. He suspected that a few of them had managed to hide weapons, even if just a knife or two, and now was not the time for them. If he remembered Shenya rightly, they were indeed being taken to her. There were few things that Shenya did well, but she knew how to hate. That, she was quite good at, and from what Mogan had seen here on Noepe the years had not brought her kindness. He would just have to hope they hadn't brought her wisdom either.
Mogan walked a little ahead, keeping the pace up, as they walked past yet more disgusting opulence. Holos coated these walls, and between them occasional sculptures of actual paintings. There was no rhythm to what would be next, and Mogan realized that the sculptures and paintings had been made when holos were still available,simply to use the style. Nonetheless, the story they told was impressive.
The first showed Noepe as it doubtless was when first discovered, with desert and thin forest, and heavy ice-caps. There was not as much ice on Noepe as he had seen in the orbit of his home planet, but quite a bit more than there was currently.
Various works showed the efforts taken to change the planet. Machines were set to deliberately warm the air, causing the ice to retreat as resorts were built at the oceans. When the water began to rise, ships simply carried it off planet. Soil was treated where plains were wanted so that forests could not grow, water pumped into the deserts, the thinner trees replaced with others from different planets.
The first governor—or perhaps the Sovereign at the time--was represented in different styles, gesturing imperiously as forests were cleared simply to replant them. There were hunts, then massive hunts where soldiers shot animals by the hundreds and left them to rot, before other creatures were introduced. Machines were made to scour the seas for dangerous fish or those that interfered with the best sport.
The poachers were represented as well, ragged and dirty men and women dragging down noble-looking creatures and tearing at them. One rather well-painted hanging depicted a battle, where men and women charged, brandishing their own fingernails, at phalanxes of disciplined gunners. The painting was ancient, quite possibly older than anything in the Moon Lake cave, but clearly Shenya's treatment of those who would kill the game reserved to the Sovereign was not entirely unique.
More opulent hunts followed, at least one of which featured a hunter, likely the Sovereign himself, at the aiming reticule of a plasma bolter, killing beasts that looked like those Mogan had seen on New Klon but twice as large.
There were two rebellions and three revolts featured in these murals. In each, the rebels were dirty and ragged, and when warfare was depicted it was always ragged mobs of rebels versus disciplined blocks of Sylfa. Even those in the trees were somehow all side-by-side in neat rows. The only time the enemies of the Sovereignty appeared in neat rows was in executions, and there were many of those.
They also, he noticed, had no Sylfa. Most of the poachers he had met were Sylfa, but all of the poachers, the rebels, and the revolters were entirely Anthata, Shawing, Mantu, and some of the other more common species.
There was little or no time to observe details, as the small group swept up the wide hallways into a spacious room. There were six columns, but Mogan suspected they were less from necessity and more to give the room the open-forest feel popular among Sylfa. The ceiling was high enough that a Mantu probably could not touch it, and they were greeted by the sound of a shoshir sliding from its scabbard.
Mogan knew the sound. For that matter, he knew the shoshir. He knew the woman as well.
The years may not have granted Shenya El' Esh wisdom or kindness, but they had certainly granted her beauty. She had been a stunning young woman when he saw her before, some sixteen years ago, but she had grown, rounded in all the right places. Sylfa tended to be thinner than humans, and she still was—except for her chest, where surgery had been involved—but the curves were undeniable. He heard more than one of those behind him gasp.
“I am going to kill each and every one of you.” She pointed the shoshir at Mogan. The L-shaped handle fit the two hands on her right side easily, and it didn't tremble. Mogan knew the blade well. Long ago, he had taken it from the assassin Fhlynn and had it given to her, but she had hated him before that. She had held him in contempt from the first moment she saw him, but when Fhlynn said something mocking and pointed at him, she had turned to look. Mogan had seen the man's other hands, one covering her drink from her view, the other pouring something from a small vial into it. She had likely hated him from the moment he knocked over the drink, spilling it across the table and her clothes.
“Surely you've had time to replace that dress by now, Shenya.”
“It's not about the dress, Mogan. It's not even about Ellisan, although you know she's illegal. And the one with the scar on his chin and the burn over his eye, that must be Higa—I just might send your head back to Burjit.”
She smirked as they stared. Ellisan mouthed a word, a name, but Mogan put it aside. That was something he didn't want to deal with at the moment.”
“You know I was saving your life that day.”
“Don't lie to me, Mogan. It's really not a good look for your last moments.”
“Fhlynn was an assassin, Ellisan. That's why he came here after me. He chased us a long way and we got away from him, and then I chased him, and he didn't do so well.”
“Enough of that!” Her beautiful lips twisted in a snarl. “Where is Shett?”
“Yil Shett? I don't know, but I'd like to see him again.”
“I told you not to lie to me, animal. I know that traitor has had it in for me, and ever since he defected I've been plagued with one problem after another! I want to know where he is, so I can send him the holos. He humiliated me when he had the power and I didn't, but that's not how it is anymore!”
“What did he do, Shenya, turn you down? I thought your hips had a little extra wiggle in them when you brought his drink.....”
That had been sixteen years ago, and he truly did suspect it, but he didn't expect it to hit a nerve so well. Shenya stabbed the end of the shoshir into the floor, probably damaging something priceless while she was at it.
“How dare you!? Do you not understand your life is in my hands!? I control the Sovereignty—me! I would let you escape, just so I could watch billions of soldiers hunt you down, if I didn't want the pleasure of killing you myself.”
A tiny bit of spittle flew from her mouth as she shouted, and her face had turned a shade of dark blue that was a little bit alarming.
“I have the power now! Me! You took my man away from me, but now you're in my hands, and I'm going to take everything away from you, including that half-animal!”
Mogan's hands tightened as if he could feel her throat in them, but with a great effort he kept his voice calm. “Your man was weak, Shenya. Do you think you're the Sovereign himself?”
“Even better!” Mogan was pretty sure he saw the shoshir sink a little into the floor as she leaned on it. “Fhlynn wasn't good enough for what I wanted, but the Sovereign is! And he does what I say! When I say you're an enemy of the entire Sovereignty, it happens!”
All four hands rested on the hilt and she leaned forward. It was nice for the view, but every muscle was tense as she snarled. “I spoke, and I leaned against his arm, and I had all the information about you that anybody knew. I spoke, and I just trailed my hands across his shoulders, and Shirfa was named a hero of the Sovereignty! I spoke, and I wiggled my ass in some stupid lacy thing he likes, and the reports naming your species non-sapient were given the Sovereign seal of approval—disputing a single word of it used to mean pissing off a Yil, but now it's an instant death sentence to even look for evidence against it--all the efforts of those idiots Hyeshi and Schlo trying to change it were wasted!”
Mogan grunted, but she was grinning now. At least, her mouth formed a parody of a smile, while her eyes burned with hate. “I want you to know it before you die, Mogan! I made it happen! I spoke, and I touched him, and no university in the Sovereignty would publish from either of them! I spoke, and I put my mouth on him, and your whore was abandoned on some worthless wilderness planet that won't see another sapient being for another hundred---”
She was already screaming, or almost, but now her scream turned into something shocked and stuttering as Mogan extended his left hand.
Some of the warriors of the San had seen him do this once before. They had believed that he commanded lightning itself, and it had helped to cement his reputation as one blessed by the spirits. Now they knew that the hand was mechanical, and they could assume that the bolt of electricity that shot from it was also mechanical, but it was no less impressive.
The Animal Person that he had struck nearly a decade ago had literally flown several yards back. One of the assassins here on Noepe, some sixteen years ago, had been knocked down. Shenya didn't, perhaps because the sword stabbed into the floor was an anchor. All four hands clamped down on the handle and electricity crackled and sparked all along the long, flowing blade of gold-titanium alloy as she convulsed, smoke rising from her hands and from her face as her hair smoked, and then a moment later she did leave the ground, landing in a heap some three or four meters away.
An ugly death, but an excellent signal. There was a beep that Mogan recognized, and then Higa threw one of Burjit's eggs. Two others had managed to hide knives before they were seen—and the rest had to go unarmed.
They were not defenseless in this. Everyone wrestled as a youngster, learning how to manage their weight and the weight of another, and while matches weren't supposed to cause harm beyond an occasional bruise, it was easy to tell how things could be worse.
In truth, the Sylfa had it easier than some others. One man simply grabbed a soldier by the waist, lifted him off his feet, and dropped him. Against a human, this was a good way to break a hip or back and perhaps start a blood feud, but the Sylfa simply didn't fall. It made sense that a species conditioned for climbing couldn't simply be dropped and instead held easily to his attacker, but the man was shot twice before he could react. He fell forward, whether by design in his last moments or by lucky accident, pinning the thinner Sylfa beneath his corpse.
Another threw a Sylfa with a rolling hiplock, and a third stomped on the soldier's head as he landed, while a fourth grabbed his rifle.
Higa's explosive went off. Mogan didn't know whether he'd intended to be sure of Shenya or not, but he could see her body twitch as shrapnel struck it, and half a dozen soldiers fell.
Mogan himself was never truly unarmed. Another bolt of electricity struck a soldier who was trying to take aim, and then he slammed a fist harder than steel into a blue-green face. Blood flowed as the guard staggered back, his face a cratered ruin, and then lasers flew as Ellisan grabbed the man's rifle and fired it as fast as she could. Not every shot hit, not even most, but some did.
But Ellisan wasn't the only one firing. As skilled as the San might have been, they were outnumbered two to one, and they were unarmed, and nobody fights a battle like that without taking losses. Half a dozen men fell in the first few seconds, and perhaps half-again that many of the soldiers, while the others sought cover behind couches and overturned tables.
“Cover!” Higa threw one more egg, then found something to duck behind himself. Alarms began to sound, and he made two hand gestures, hunting signals that were often used so that they wouldn't alert game. One indicated he was out of ammunition, another that they needed to pull back. Lasers flashed back and forth as the San backed up with stolen rifles, and Ellisan, bless her, managed to grab one of the bags that had held their own confiscated weapons.
When they reached the doors and took stock, the results of their battle weren't pretty. Everyone was wounded to some degree, and of the twenty-five people who went into that room only eleven made it out. It was a note of sick humor that at least now the bag Ellisan had grabbed had enough weapons for everyone.
“We're not going to fight our way down, Mogan.” Higa panted, holding his side. He hissed as Mogan sprayed in the sealant. “This was a good day, my friend.”
“And it's not done yet. We're not going down. There will be flyers on the roof, and Ellisan can fly anything.”
Ellisan was trying not to scream, holding the cauterized stump where her lower left hand once was. “And then where?”
“....I don't know.”
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