Bed bath and beyond conroe tx

Bed Bath and Beyond

2016.04.07 20:15 sendmebearpics Bed Bath and Beyond

Stories and advice from Bed Bath and Beyond, plus other stuff. We don't care about stock stuff here

2021.01.14 22:39 zoomermoney BBBY

Stock talk about Bed Bath & Beyond Inc. (BBBY) and Buy Buy Baby. HODL.

2023.06.07 15:28 Ten_Letters_ First time writing a scene in English as a German speaker

Guten Tag,
my native language is German and I am currently writing a book in my mother tongue. It is going good so far, I am about 270 pages into my first draft.
From time to time I like to write short stories or little scenes that aren't part of my book and are just inspired by the moment. I am mainly reading English literature, though, so the inspiration naturally comes in that language.
This morning I wrote the following scene. I would like to know if it sounds any natural to you or if my English is somewhat weird.
Feel free to comment on my style, grammar or use of words if you find the time. Or just read it.
The Scene:
To an extent, I very much liked the general idea of it. The idea of folks, your ancestors, watching over you while you are alive, and they are not anymore. Watching you grow up, fall in love and divorce, fail and succeed. Watching your every step. Just as birds watch their offspring not to fall out of the nest, the parental sparrows taking turns gathering food, your grandparents might have their benevolent eyes on your daily fate.
Except unlike bird parents in a nest, an angel-like mentor, somewhere up in the clouds, does not protect you from any harm. Grandmother watching over you or not, you are getting divorced anyway. This train of thought lead me to other questions: With the rule being that every living person has a unique person resting in not-so-much-peace and watching over them, there must be exceptions to these circumstances. We thank them if we have a lucky day, but say, what happens if we lose a limb in a freak accident? What do our heavenly supervisors think of that, how do they react? Do they cry out in agony, watching their grandson lose his right leg, eventually ending his ambitious struggle for a career in professional hockey? Or do they remain in omniscient indifference with a mild smile on their face, knowing that ultimately all will work out in a positive outcome, all guided by divine providence? And if they do cry out instead, who listens to their cries? Does the celestial community comfort them or tell them to shut up? It all did not make much sense to me.
Engrossed in this suddenly metaphysical state of mind, I did not notice the sun had already risen somewhat outside, greeting the world a first ‘good morning’. Now, the ochre-colored walls of which I had called home for the last three days, gave a dazzling impression of what lay beneath it. And what was beneath it, hadn’t become any less striking than it had been the weeks before. I moved from my down feather bed to the entrance of my tent, untied a small part of the door, and peeked through, my eyes being blinded once more. I blinked a few times and with my sight finally somewhat adapted, I had a good look. Just like the sun, life had already risen in the camp.
Two camels were being led over the great dune across the central camp place, carrying what appeared to be water barrels to our camp, presumably using the last precious minutes of the day not being full-sun. Their big hoofs left paths in the sand of the dune, which were even visible from my tent at least a couple hundred meters away. In front of the small caravan, just next to the shade-providing palm tree, two servants negotiated something in a language I could not recognize, much less understand. Their custodian – or at least that’s what he seemed to be, from his remarkably-colorful leather hat – stood beside them, scribbling something on a folded map. In the periphery, I made out two soldiers patrolling the perimeter, with coats and muskets and all.
I turned away from the door, turned away from the busy scene. The sun may have risen, and so did the people, however, I was not ready to, not yet. I crawled back to my bed, taking the letter with me that lay on the tiny desk I was provided with, and leaned against a big down pillow. I had read the message the night before. It was a message from Justine, my recently divorced ex-wife. To say it was a message was an exaggeration though, as messages tend to contain information worth reading. It was merely an excuse of a letter, essentially a type of paper which had ink blots on it that coincidentally formed somewhat comprehensible sentences. A million monkeys on a million typewriters crossed my mind.
The night before, when I first read it, I was too tired from the day’s work to comprehend any of it. Now that I read it again, I knew my bad mood was not without a reason at all. “Hope you travel safely”, she wrote. “Make it back to our fort soon” and “watch out for the dehydrating sun” were other parts of it. Watch out for the sun in the hot desert, huh, I thought. If that’s not important advice. To top it all, her text ended in “Regards”. How quickly can one man be degraded from beloved husband to remote business acquaintance? I must have broken the record in that category.
I reached for my can of beer. No chance, it was empty, explaining my premature sleep last night. In lack of liquid substitute, I instead took out a cigarette out of the desk drawer, opened the tiny slit I had cut in the fabric of my tent as a means of improvised exhaust hood and lit the stub.
I knew the smoke coming out of the top of my tent would be visible to anyone. I knew the captain would be angry with me. No blame on him, after all, I smoked what should have been part of his merchandise goods and simultaneously created a fire hazard. There would be dispute about it, no question. He would yell at me, and I would make a half-assed joke about me only performing the ancient art of smoke signals. He would not laugh, his face only redden even beyond its alcohol-induced rouge. But what could I do. I was a divorced man; I needed my consolation. Besides, if they wanted to make it alive through the desert, they would need me. Reason enough to tolerate my eccentric manners, if you ask me.
submitted by Ten_Letters_ to KeepWriting [link] [comments]

2023.06.07 15:21 LuminousGiraffe When do I admit I've properly lost my bank card?

I'm very much ashamed of this, but I've let my bedroom spiral over the last few months due to a mental and physical health nosedive.
I can vaguely keep the rest of my flat vaguely tidy but as my bedroom only impacts me, that's what I felt least guilty about letting slide.
And other than having to do a bit of a dive from the door to the bed, it's not caused any issues beyond being an eyesore. Until now.
I can't find my purse. I know I 100% had it on Saturday but I haven't seen it since and I'm legit starting to panic. I've been able to get by on using my phone to pay for things, but I need my bank card and driving licence back ASAP.
Any tips on how to quickly tidy everything and and deciding whether I need to go through the pain of cancelling / replacing the contents of my purse?? I'm due to go on a solo trip abroad in a week and a half, so if so, time is of the essence...
submitted by LuminousGiraffe to adhdwomen [link] [comments]

2023.06.07 15:21 BussReplyMail Laundry drying rack for camping, uncouth or good idea?

We've got a small teardrop-style camper, so the only place to put wet towels or swimsuits is the small wet bath, either hanging on the (folded down) sink or a couple wall hooks.
We were planning to take along a collapsible laundry drying rack, so after swimming or using the campground showers, we'd have somewhere not in the camper to hang things to dry. We could potentially string a clothes line between a tree and the camper or between trees, but not knowing if our site at the state park would have a suitable tree / trees, the drying rack seems like a safe thing to pack.
But, would we be rather "uncouth" to do this? Or should we just not worry, seeing as we're not going to be hanging our "unmentionables" from it and it'll get folded down and either stashed under the camper or in the bed of the truck when we're not using it?
submitted by BussReplyMail to GoRVing [link] [comments]

2023.06.07 15:19 insanecoder Bending over backwards for guests

Just curious, as I’ve never been in hospitality prior to starting my STR venture — do hotels go to the same lengths to make their guests as happy as STR hosts do?
One of the biggest arguments against Airbnb and the like that I’ve seen lately is that guests say hotels provide better experiences (turn down service, amenities, convenience, etc.) relative to cost.
However, browsing this sub I get the notion that hosts truly go above and beyond (or at least try to, for the most part) to ensure guests have a comfortable and memorable stay.
Things like buying new amenities to make a stay more comfortable, always being available for the guest, ensuring the house is stocked with extras of things, you name it.
I’ve never stayed at a hotel that seemed to remotely give a shit about us due to how much turnover they see day-to-day.
Am I missing something? Just to throw an example - I have an STR in the Catskills area. A local 2-3 star, highway hotel (no breakfast, kitchenettes — just a bed, moldy bathroom, broken fridge and a microwave) is charging 170 a night on weekends. I haven’t charged that much yet for a weekend night and I’m hosting a 2bd2ba that sleeps up to 6 with all the bells and whistles.
Blows my mind. Curious to hear other’s opinions on the matter.
submitted by insanecoder to airbnb_hosts [link] [comments]

2023.06.07 15:16 Active_Book2385 ISO

Hi all 👋🏼 thought I would take a chance and post this, I am not sure if it breaks rule 3 or not. I am a working professional (mental health therapist-yey community) in my mid 30s, and just moved back to town (lived in Bzn from 2009-2018). I know housing isn’t great and that I’m looking for a unicorn 🦄 of a place, just seems like there is so many scams out there that I thought I’d try and post here. I’m staying with a friend temporarily but looking for a long term rental that fits this description; AUD or mother-in-law place or just 1 bed/1 bath, in Bozeman or surrounding area, $1400 and under, has a full kitchen (not cooking off of hot plates) and bathroom, quiet, private, will allow my very quiet and well behaved 40 pound non shedding dog (she’s a therapy dog for clients so she has to be well trained-this dog is a saint and does good work for the community). I am your typical social introvert, in bed by 9pm, up by 6am, social life takes place outside of the house but really I only have energy for 1-2 outings a week, not a drinker-well past any type of party days, respectful, clean, quiet, pay rent on time. I do work from home partially during the week otherwise I’m quiet as a mouse. I can provide references on request and have good rental history (lived at my last place for 4 years). If you know of any good folks that have an AUD/mother in law house/1-bed,1-bath, please send me a DM 🙏🏼 thank you bozeman community!
submitted by Active_Book2385 to Bozeman [link] [comments]

2023.06.07 15:14 JO9OH4 Would it be enough if I could never give you peace?

Dear R
Laying here in bed. Eyes still stinging and swollen from the night and crying myself to sleep, I can’t help but replay our story. The one that surely would end in happiness and peace but burned so hot, we both were ash in the end.
How we accidentally bumped into one another in the most unexpected of places. How our instant connection was stronger and more powerful than I’ve ever felt with another person. The countless late nights and early mornings chatting. Only closing our eyes to allow our bodies to rest and dream. Dream of the day when we would move mountains and cross countries to be together. And we did.
We always said we needed to find out what this was. We always knew if we did nothing it would haunt us for the rest of our lives and ironically, now we are both ghosts. Our relationship died and so did we. The only thing we haunt now are the memories of us. Searching for clues on how it went so wrong. Searching in vain for a way to bring us back to life.. But in my experience, you can’t bring back the dead no matter how hard you try.
So I’m here now writing you this letter that you will never read because I have these things to say but, reaching out to you from the beyond would only haunt us more.
I love you R. I still love you with all of my heart. It’s always the reason these things hurt the most. My brain can’t comprehend how you are my person In almost every way, yet silly trivial things were our downfall. We finished each others sandwiches and were always so in sync with the other, and now the hardest part is focusing on the ways we didn’t work instead of all the ways we did. Because that is a prison in its own right. We want to justify why one more chance could finally be it by focusing on the things that made us right, ignoring all the things that made us wrong.
There is no magic pill to ease the pain of a broken heart. This isn’t eternal sunshine of the spotless mind and even still we know that our presence in each others minds would bleed through no matter what. Our hearts and minds will heal naturally Into a perfect scar. And if we do this right, if we don’t fuck this up too. Then when that scar starts to itch just a little bit, and we have a moment of reflection. It will be all the good memories and all the things that made us right. And we won’t be able to hurt each other anymore. And all there will be then is happiness and appreciation for the journey. The bitter taste of heartbreak will have been long gone by then. Our lives will have been forever changed for the better. I love you more than any words could every convey. It’s definitely see you later and not goodbye. I’m sorry I could never bring you peace.
Love, J
submitted by JO9OH4 to UnsentLetters [link] [comments]

2023.06.07 15:08 SandraSandraSandra A Struggle - The Saga of Flower-Hill 5

The hill appeared deserted. Sonurupākä was not sure if he should find the worrying, or a positive indication that the disruption caused by their hordes has gone relatively unnoticed.
His wife and the Great Mothers of his clan had done it. They had united the clans of Konuthomu behind a single purpose. Behind a single man. Behind him. More than that, his mission east had been a success—they think. This hill is where they are supposed to meet. Is it possible the people of Kamābarha have betrayed their trust.
He stews on this risk as the column advances up the hill. They travel in twos—one with a spear, one with a bow—each carrying a simple cloth rucksack with arrows and food.
Ahead he sees a face emerge from the undergrowth—he draws his bow and knocks the arrow he’d had at his belt, and then noticed the lack of feathers and painted pictographs. In Rhadämā he calls, “Hail good son, I hope your wait has been short and fruitful.”
Despite the initial shock of a bow in his face, the Kamābarha scout recovers admirably, “Aye, we just arrived then finished the midday meal. Come, I shall take you to our Outer-Chief.”
The featherless man, young and lithe with hungry eyes and handsome visage, leads the column up the hill. As they round the crest, a crowd emerged seated in its meadowy crest.
It’s a good crowd, with bows and spears much the same as theirs. The leader stands dressed in a blue and red cape and central skirt. Ōdjobanama, son of the great clan mother of Kamābarha, greets him heartily, “The spirits are good bringing us together so swiftly. Please, sit, share my plate.” He guides Sonurupākä over to a small circle of richly dressed men. Before them sit plates with zizania, fried tuber, and rabbit. Sitting, the two leaders eat and talk, planning for the assaults.
There are three main settlements of this particular band of Yelithātsan, surrounded by managed forest and meadowland for grazing and their meagre farms imitating civilization. The attack is to begin after the fall of night, when the savages are hopefully in their cups—even barbarians keep to the holy day. They honour Him in another way: he saves us all from destruction, so we shall save ourselves from pilfering. Splitting the horde into two equal groups, one under each Outer-Chief’s command, they shall approach the main village together. Once cleared, they will move on to the subsequent two. Messy business, but necessary.
The Outer-Chiefs toast their plans with small cups of cranberry wine, and lay down for a rest. The night shall be long and tiring.
The flickering torchlight paints their faces ghostly as they stand, ringing the village.
It is a quaint, wooden affair with thatch roofs and small-halls. Larger barns surround the village in the pasture land. Those shan’t be touched, the bison’s their reward, after all.
Half a dozen scouts creep into the village, the sounds of caroling have ceased—the festivities are at an end. It has been a dry month, more so than usual, and the homes take fire easily. First the thatch but then the thinner planks and wattle used. The scours quickly retreat to the village surroundings and take up their spears or bows, posted beside arrows stuck-standing in the dry earth.
The first shouts are ones of terror—the smell of smoke and unwelcome light rousing the unknowing sleepers within.
“Water, water,” the cries ring out as the people scramble to put out the fires.
The first to show themselves are the young mothers, easily roused and quickly killed as arrows fly. The village is surrounded, there is nowhere to flee.
Cries of terror and “attack” begin to accompany those for water. Somewhere some babes begin to bawl.
Sonurupākä steadies his face and fired arrows, piercing the throat of a young boy, newly-feathered, who took up a spear in his house’s defence.
“Savagery is a blight upon the land. An ordered paddy requires weeding. Allow for rot and you ruin the store.”
Repeating platitudes under his breath, he fires again and again into the crowds. Still, his stomach rolls. It is his duty, nothing more. He was trusted to do this. It is an honour.
One of his men pierces a woman with a babe, the two falling to the earth in a single heap. Another a wizened matriarch. A few brave fools with spears and clubs and knives make it to the perimeter, only for the spearmen of the forces of order to make quick work of them.
As the fires rage higher and all hope of putting them out is lost, and bodies begin to pile, more and more of the Yelithatsan simply throw their bodies to the ground and plea for forgiveness, for grace, for god.
The harder challenge is raised by those of the farmhouses and barns attacking from the dark. A few clever Yelithatsan loose arrows from the forests, downing some of the forces of civilization, but they too are overwhelmed.
With the resistance broken, it’s easy work to go through the wreckage, slicing the throats of those wounded but struggling long—offering a little prayer and making them an offering in thanks for protection in the battle.
The main task, however, is slicing off the left ears off the defeated—both living and dead. By taking the Kemihatsārä of the defeated, they are robbed of status and power. Women, youths, and weaker men are left alive—if they don’t get infected from their wound—and are to be taken back as farm labour. Their feathers of parrot and pigeon shall adorn the cloaks of the victors.
Those who are too wilful receive a simpler fate: a knife makes quick work of resistance.
Binding the prisoners and leaving some men to guard them, the troupes split up and continue their assault.
Some 800 lie dead as midday sets in, but thousands of bison and many urns of wine have been seized. The victors take turns sleeping as others burn the dead—Proper pyres with prayers for the honoured dead, the defeated built in with the kindling.
The divvying up of the rewards is simple enough: Konuthomu’s rewards belong to the clan mothers—they shall decide the division upon their return (or, realistically, already have), and Ōdjobanama’s requests seemed fair.
They shall rest and feast here tonight, amongst the ruins of the village. In the morning, the captives will be loaded with goods and brought to their new lives as landless labour: servants of new clans. Before the funeral pyres, Sonurupākä completes a ritual. This is perhaps aggressive, inventing something new, but it seems necessary. Casting the ears into the fire, he grants the Kemihatsārä of the defeated to the victorious soldiers. Feathers of parrot and pigeon are added to cloaks: trophies of victory. Those who distinguished themselves most admirably receive more, with multiple feathers marking their prestige.
The duNothudo, of DjamäThanä at least, had told him to treat the victors as heroes. He prays this is what they meant. But the men had begun to add the feathers to their own cloaks—and that anarchy could be tolerated.
The smell of burnt flesh accompanies the feast, dozens of bison roast over raging fires and hearty stews of rice and tuber grace the tables. Glory tastes excellent.
The welcome back in Konuthomu was incredible. A small, congratulatory feast was thrown upon their return, and Sonurupākä was granted a full row of clan-feathers from each of the six clans: extending his cape beneath his tail-bone.
The division of the resources was decided upon, with 144 bison set aside for the Autumnal Equinox. Invitations were sent out far and wide for all villages within six days of canoeing to come, pay homage to the Great Mothers of Konuthomu, take part in the bounty and generosity of the Mothers, and arrange for their commitments to the granaries of Konuthomu. The Potters’ Quarter, a dense maze of small, two-story houses, kilns, and workshops below the Themilanan split between DjamäThanä in the East and NāpäkoduThonu in the West was abuzz.
1728 bowls of celadon.
That is what Senisedjarha had called for, and that is what Sonurupākä must deliver. The Nōlukomuko, DjamäThanä’s portion of the recent prisoners, were put to work quarrying the feldspar needed to make the glaze, and the workshops of the Potters’ Quarter seemed lit and full both night and day. Overview of the Quarter is not chiefly Sonurupākä’s duty, but the fruit harvests are in the hands of Nolunaman and Sonurupākä is not needed beyond the city.
Perhaps soon, if messengers come back reporting on the peasants who refuse to pay homage to the Great Mothers, he’ll be needed beyond the Themilanan. But for now, he can dedicate himself to artistry and allow the glaze to clear his mind.
They’d needed to remind a few families of their position—and what they owe to the Great Mothers of Konuthomu. But the Autumnal Equinox proved to be the greatest event Konuthomu had ever known. In the meadows just beyond the fields, dozens of long tables were set up. Seventy-two fire pits were dug, each to roast two of the 144 bison for the feast. Tsukõdju had never witnessed such a feast.
The evening ends with declarations by the duNothudo: Nāpäkodu Peritēki-Demisenikonu is named Outer-Chief—it makes sense, his time is up and he has served his duty well.
But the duNothudo do not stop there. “As is plain to all, the world grows more dangerous, more complex. We need a strong hand to enact our wisdom, and to protect us. Nāpäkodu Peritēki-Demisenikonu shall be our spear: the protector of Konuthomu. But what good is a spear without a kiln and field to protect? We thus name Djamä Sonurupākä-Pēzjeceni Inner-Chief.”
A murmur rises. So his task is not done.
The weather has cooled and the harvest has been completed. He has had a busy few months. But as he has settled into his new role and finished the duties with the harvest, he has had time to think.
It’s night now, the air is cold. He woke from bed and is wearing only a woolen poncho, traded for from the Yeli. He walks in the courtyard garden in the Rhadämā style house he built—indisputably the greatest in the Themilanan, positioned on a flat mound extending above the Potters’ District.
He woke up from a recurring nightmare: he’s back in that flaming village, he looses an arrow at a figure running at him through the flames. He goes to see who it was, and finds Senisedjarha holding their newborn daughter.
At that moment he always wakes up. One of the serving girls on duty brings him his pipe, packed with tobacco, and a cup of strong maple wine. He sits on a rock, moonlight filtering through the leafy canopy above him.
A man must do his duty, for that is what makes a path.
Another drink and he’ll return to bed and take his wife in his arms.
Another drink and he’ll be able to sleep.
submitted by SandraSandraSandra to DawnPowers [link] [comments]

2023.06.07 15:06 Mooses_little_sister [MP] (Media prompt) Adrian Berenguer - Red Dress (Link to the song that inspired the story.) (Prompted by NextEstablishment856)
This is a bit darker than some of my other work.
TW (Suicide) The trigger warning is a bit of a spoiler, but I don't want anyone who might have trouble going into it unawares.

The red dress lay across my bed as if to herald my future. Around me, the other wives tittered into their sleeves, at least they hadn't been chosen. No, I was the Chosen, and the others would retire to their rooms for a night of rest. While I... I would put on the red dress.
The satin felt cool against my skin as I smoothed the dress down over my hips. It was forbidden to wear anything but the red dress when you were Chosen, but I had never been the kind of wife to follow the rules. No, I had opted for an undergarment, but one that would be difficult to detect. It only needed to do its job for a little while.
"You look beautiful." One of the other wives whispered as she dressed my hair for the evening to come. "I can't believe—"
I raised a hand cutting her off. I'd heard it all before, and said it myself. The murmured platitudes, the gentle commiseration, while all the time she was grateful she hadn't been chosen. Wordlessly, I pointed at the jewels I would wear that night, the shoes that glimmered black one second, deep red the next. When she'd finished, she stepped back, and I caught something I didn't expect. A tear hovered in the corner of her eye.
The kindness wrapped up in that single drop of liquid nearly took my courage. My spine weakened, and my knees felt loose, but with a deep breath, I rallied. Head held high, I walked through the halls, always descending, down to the ballroom, down to my husband. Down to my future.
Faces turned towards me as the steward announced my presence, and I entered, walking down the grand staircase. Not one face did I recognize; my husband would have been a fool to invite any of my friends this night. And if there was anything flattering I could say about the man, it was that he wasn't a fool.
"Darling. You look ravishing." He appeared at my side, hand outstretched to guide me across the floor. I nodded to him, barely dropping my chin, as a tremor racked my body. Gliding towards the center of the room, we turned, his free hand going around my waist. The music—which had dropped quieter as I entered—grew louder. We spun in time, the only couple dancing, as the musicians coaxed voices from their instruments.
"Do you wish to know why I chose you?" Even while dancing nothing seemed out of place on my husband, not a strand of hair so much as dared to move. How I hated him! I opened my mouth to curse him, as I had never been able to do, but a fit of coughing racked my body.
"Breathe darling, instead of answering. Coughing does not become you. I will tell you anyway." We twirled as a single violin rose above the rest, seeming to dance with us. "Perhaps you think, it is because you are rebellious. You have a mind that is not easily broken, indeed, I believe I have failed in breaking you. Except, of course, tonight shall change all that." He smiled, the white teeth that I had seen so many times tear and rend into raw flesh gleaming in the light of a thousand candles.
"Then why?" My voice rasped in my throat, and I could feel my limbs going weaker. I leaned a little more into my husband, hoping he wouldn't notice. The music rose in intensity, as if it could sense what was coming.
"Because, darling. Simply because, I can." The grin widened into laughter, that mingled with the voices that seemed to come from all sides. Music pounded into my ears, as my grip on my husband tightened, though the muscles were weak. I swallowed, trying to stop the saliva that flooded my mouth from escaping.
"Darling—" The questioning tone broke as my head dropped back, and I lost control of my lower limbs. I sagged in his arms, no longer able to keep time with the furious music.
"What, what is wrong with you?" His hands ran down over the dress, eyes going wide as he felt the slip I wore underneath. The slip that I'd prepared especially for when I was Chosen.
"What have you done?" He hissed. Through eyes that were fast dimming, the candles growing dull in their view, I looked up at him, enjoying the lassitude that spread through my limbs.
"I have taken myself beyond your reach, beyond your unholy desires, beyond the suffering you have inflicted on all of us wives." I coughed, feeling blood fill my mouth. "And do you want to know why?" He growled in response, anger taking over that perfect face, and I saw with a spark of satisfaction that one piece of hair had fallen awry. More people filled my vision, and I summoned all my remaining strength to make my voice loud.
"Because, I can."
And with the sound of my own voice ringing with the final chord of the instruments, darkness took me away forever, leaving me and the red dress lying still as death on the ballroom floor.
submitted by Mooses_little_sister to Mel_Rose_Writes [link] [comments]

2023.06.07 15:04 Maddiesin I dont know what happened to me, all I have are vague memories and I dont know whats real.

Hey, I hope its okay to post this and Id be thankful if someone shared their opinion on what Im going to tell you. I am ashamed to post this because I am unsure if its the right place to post here, but its the first time I am actually talking about it and I keep on thinking about it because now that I am aboit to turn 30 and have been in a happy relationship for 3 years, I am realizing that sexuality in general has never been an easy thing to me, I can barely enjoy or even get myself to get physically close to my partner in a sexual way ( anything beyond cuddling )
I have an ed and bpd. My familys story has always been fckd up and I wont go into details here.
My father has always been a very narcissitic and choleric man and I remember as a child, I was either scared of his outbursts or tried everything possible to get his approval and be close to him. However, I never, never felt good enough.
I remember when I was a little kid, maybe 4-6 years old, my father would come into my room when I was supposed to be asleep or on my way to fall asleep. Sometimed he would just stand in front of my bed watching me. I usually would open my eyes just a little, so he would believe I was asleep. Sometimes he would come closer and touch my arms and just scratch it a little. It nevr felt 100% uncomfortable but sometimes it still felt weird. Id let it happen because i just wanted my dads approval. But I also remember that ( i dont know how many times) he would touch my torso and my nipples. I felt very uncomfortable and I always kept pretending to be asleep. There is a weird, "clear" but also very flashy memory of this specific scene in my head I can not forget...
Sometimes my fathet would play this "game" with me. Honestly anything he'd to to spend time with me, I would never question for a second as a child. I just wanted to be good enough. In that "game" he acted like he was a giant and I was ... i dont know, his prey? He would lay on my body and I of course tried to move around and get him off me. I was a little child and with his weight on me it got hard to breathe. I felt a clear border between game and "not okay" being crossed here. When i tried to free myself he would usually say stuff like " oh, my pillow is still alive?" Etc.
I feel horrible about these memories and dont know whete to put them.
A few years forward, I was maybe 12 and on the playground with my cousine, who had the same age. I remember my father always liked him more because he was a boy. So i thought that if I get my cousins sympathy, i would get it from my father too. That day my cousin asked me to put his penis into my vagina. I didnt feel comfortable and I have never made any sexual experiences to that date. I denied but he kept asking me to do so. I felt pressured into doing as he told me. I just let it happen. It happened several times that day/night as we stayed at my grandmothers house that night. I just let him do it. But i knew it was wrong and I knew that no one would believe me if i told anyone + I did let it happen,right?
I have never spoken about this because I feel like i wont be taken serious. But I know that these memories and the feelings tied to them affected me all my life. I partner so much and i openly talked to him about my feelings of uncomfortableness and shame when it comes to sex. He understands. But i just dont know how to deal with any of this or what it means..
submitted by Maddiesin to adultsurvivors [link] [comments]

2023.06.07 15:02 Keemotherapy9 [Listing] 1 bedroom Sublet in Central Park North in a 2Bed1Bath

I just moved into a 2 bedroom 1 bath, and would like to sublet the second room.
A few things about the place:
-Elevator building on West 113th st. few blocks above Central Park, 5 min walk from A,B,C,2,&3 trains
-Spacious living room, and decent sized bedroom for queen bed, desk, and other stuff
-Dishwasher, stove, microwave in unit, and laundry room on the same floor
-Huge private outdoor space that wraps around the entire apt
-Lots of closet space
-$1650 a month
I'm a 34M teacher and writer, I have a 7 year old dog. I'm pretty chill, I like guitar, crosswords and cooking. I'm not a neatfreak, but I am looking for someone respectful, communicative and who can keep a clean bathroom. Dogs welcome on a case by case basis. Sorry, but no cats.
I am flexible about the length of stay. No preference over age or gender, as long as there is proof of income.
Photos here:
DM me for more info.
submitted by Keemotherapy9 to NYCapartments [link] [comments]

2023.06.07 14:55 youhaveausername Am I wrong for this?

I am a SAHM to a 5 month old. I also work part time from home 5 days a week. I care for two dogs, the house, meals, shopping, cooking, and cleaning. I have repeatedly asked my husband to take our dogs out before he leaves the house in the morning and to make sure they have food and water so I can focus on feeding the baby when he first gets up, instead of having the dogs just stare at me and do the pee pee dance. I've asked time and time again for my husband to do this and it never happens. Additionally, he has been coming home later than what I find to be reasonable, leaving me to cook dinner, give our LO a bath, do our nighttime routine, last bottle, then put him down for bed. I have told him that this isn't right and he is missing out on time with our son, to which I get told he makes the money so I don't have a say. When and if he does get home at a reasonable hour, he finds things to do outside like garage organization, once again leaving me with the LO and not even holding him or spending time with him. This happens on the weekends as well. I finally reached my breaking point and I am convinced he does these things intentionally to not spend time with our son and I told him how I felt, but it wasn't received well at all. Am I wrong for having expectations that he should come home and want to spend time with his son?
submitted by youhaveausername to beyondthebump [link] [comments]

2023.06.07 14:50 kiplet1 [City of Roses] no. 27.2: “The first order of Business” – at This table – antique Punk bullshit – the Basics of Security

[City of Roses] no. 27.2: “The first order of Business” – at This table – antique Punk bullshit – the Basics of Security
previous Table of Contents
tends to crumble
“The first order of business,” says the man at the head of the table, “in any face time we take with potential occupancy partners, we need to assess how the anticipated anchor’s gonna impact their appraisal and availability approach.” It’s a long table, a slab of wood the color of pale flesh, polished to a striking gleam that’s broken here and there by a phone or a computer tablet laid before this person or that, until down at the very other end of it, a couple of comb-bound reports bristling with post-it flags, a spill of colorful diagrams, a worn redweld holding a couple of file folders upright, a small black notebook splayed open, the wispy scratch of a fountain pen, APPRAISAL written in ruddy black ink, AVAILABILITY , then three sharp underscores. “It’s not,” the man at the head of the table is saying, “that we anticipate an antagonism toward the anchor, on the part of any potential partners?” His flat grey suit’s a touch too big, the collar of his soft blue shirt’s undone, his sparse beard neatly trimmed. “But by anticipating,” he says, “their respective stances vis-à-vis their individualized brand engagement profiles which, let me assure you, we will be reviewing in a thorough manner before we, we take up any,” he’s trailing off, “tête-à-têtes,” blinking quizzically. The room about them’s walled in cool sheets of green-tinged glass on all four sides and more beyond refracting, reflecting, shimmering desk lamps and fluorescents, computer screens, heads popping up over cubicle walls, turning, following the figure swimming up through them, one glass door after another opening before her, “I,” says the man at the head of the table, “excuse me,” as the final glass door swings open, she’s sweeping into the room, Ysabel in her long white coat. “I tried to tell her,” someone’s saying, a receptionist maybe, bobbing in her wake, and “Do you mind,” says an older man, halfway down the table, a hand on his phone on the wood, but she’s glaring at the very other end of the table. “How dare you,” she says.
“Sorry, folks,” says Lymond, screwing the cap onto his fountain pen. “Think we might have the room a minute?”
“I, um,” says the man at the head of the table, “we just got started?”
“And we’ll get right back into it,” says Lymond. “I’m really looking forward to hearing more about this brand engagement. Now,” pushing back his chair, “if you don’t mind,” but already they’re filing out, shirts and blouses of dull green, milky blue, an intrepid puce, awkwardly around past Ysabel all in white. “Um,” says the man who’d been at the head of the table, in his flat grey suit.
“Thanks,” says Lymond, cheerfully. The green glass door swings shut. “How dare I?” he says, to Ysabel. “I’m the King. A certain latitude’s expected.”
“You could’ve gotten her killed,” says Ysabel.
“They’re watching, you know,” he says, tucking a report into the redweld. “Go on. Lean over the table. Slap me. That should be enough to undo all his sacrifice secured.”
She blinks at that, draws back. “Sacrifice,” she says.
“He thought of it as such,” says Lymond, stacking up those diagrams, tapping their edges against the wood. “Now. Slap me, or turn about, and go home.”
“Not until you explain yourself, brother.”
“Oh, Ys,” he says. “If you would play at this table,” he’s tucking the diagrams into a file folder, “you must pay attention.” A wince, as he sets the folder aside. “We find ourselves upon a crux: the duel between the Devil and the Huntsman redounded to our favor, yet the wound’s but freshly healed. Any sudden shift might tear it right back open.” His hands, folded together before him, a thumb pressed tight against a knuckle. “Is that what you would have?”
“I’ve seen the wound,” she says. “He nearly cut her through. The owr does what it can,” and she looks up from the tabletop to meet his eyes, one brown, one blue, both cold. “She sleeps. She’s been asleep since the Mason brought her home.” Leaning down now, both hands planted on the glossy wood. “I’m doing you a courtesy, by answering a question I assume you would eventually have asked?”
A bitter something of a smile. “How is Jo,” he says, “how Jo is, I know how is our Gallowglas: loyal, and effective. I trusted her to do what needed doing, and she went and got it done. Now,” over her sharp intake of breath, “I ask, once more. You know what is at stake. Do you mean to stand against any particular point of our plan?” Leaning in close. “Slap me,” he says. “Or go home.”
She steps back, she turns away. Before she can open the green glass door he says, “Take care, sister, where and when you might vent any further displeasures?” Looking down, at his folded hands. “Our tantrums are expensive.”
“You’ve no idea,” she says, “what could’ve spilled from her heart, had his stroke been a whit more true.”
She opens the door. He shifts his thumb. The thin line of a neat straight cut along the edge of his forefinger, sewn with tiny beads of dark red blood. He lifts it to his lips. “Um,” says someone, the man in the flat grey suit a touch too big, peering into the room. “Everything good?”
“Paper cut,” says Lymond, waving him in. “C’mon, let’s go. Take it from the top.”

Well and I don’t know, dim voices floating up through floorboards loosely laid across the joists, not what we discussed, poets and junkies, epic, like some, there’s a mirror, there’s no one in the mirror, there’s a crack in the glass of it jagged, chased and dappled, splotched with gold, a spangled haze, such a history, working together, that didn’t work, a drip-drip trickle from the faucet, puddles on gold-streaked marble about the sink, but there, it’s gonna be epic, dust gone dark to grey, to black, a lump of it mucked up under the mirror, with the shreds of a burst plastic baggie, this, or this, or this. There’s music, too, loud but languid, strummed guitars, a melodeon, but she’s sitting up in the dark, her head in her hands, and there is no mirror, no light, no sinks or water, no marble countertop, but there is the dust, spangled, glimmering in the milky cloud of her hair, and still the music.
“Well if we have to have a name,” says Gloria Monday.
“It’s something to put on a poster,” says the woman sitting on the nubbled pea-green couch, one hand braced on the curled handle of an orthopædic cane, a big brown scaley purse in her lap.
“Well if that’s all we want,” says Gloria, wrestling to one side a great stretched canvas, a twirling figure calligraphed in slashes of black, to reveal another propped behind it, the next wild scribble of dance. She steps back, behind a tiny silver camera atop a stolid tripod, stoops to peer through it. “We could call it the Lawn,” she says, snapping a picture. Straightening, she looks back and forth, from the painting, to the image of it, now on the enormous white-framed monitor behind her there on the worktable.
“As in get off the?” says the woman standing off to one side, her long black coat done up with brightly silver buttons, and a little grey snap-brim hat on her head.
“That’s not what we discussed,” says Anna in her houndstooth trousers, narrow black-rimmed glasses glaring in the light.
“The house,” says Gloria, taking hold of the canvas. “Run-down and falling apart and poets and junkies and twenty bedrooms to one bathroom and full of,” lifting, “epic,” hoisting it aside, “legend, and, and art,” to reveal the next. “The Lawn,” says Gloria Monday. Her feet are bare, laddered tights printed with overlapping gears, her vast white T-shirt says Robot Fightin’ Boots.
“I liked Weatherall’s,” says Anna. “If we’re going to change it.”
“Yeah, well,” says Gloria, stooping behind the camera again.
“Sounds like some Harry Potter shit,” says the woman in the long black coat.
“Jilting of,” says Gloria, snapping another picture. “Granny Weatherall? Been a while, since you been in high school?” The woman on the couch snorts up a laugh, sits up, hefting her cane. “How about,” she says, pointing the wide rubber foot of it out, toward the cavernous space beyond, “this building,” the boxes, equipment, the bulks of whatever it is under tarps shoved off to either side, stacked in the stalls that one by one march down the long high walls, “the history,” soaked in soft grey light depending from up under the rafters, the windows there scrubbed clean of filth, scraped clear of paint, “a name should honor that.”
“It was a warehouse for vegetables,” says Gloria.
“A farmers’ market,” says the woman on the couch, “built by Italian immigrants, working together. Cooperatively.”
“Snot Market,” says Gloria, “Grime Market, that didn’t work,” grabbing the next canvas, “Pus Market has a certain punch,” hauling it aside, “but Anna didn’t like any of those, and anyway it’s antique punk bullshit. Effluvial Plane I kinda liked, but that’s too, much, y’know?”
“How old are you?” says the woman all in black.
“Fuck you,” says Gloria. “That’s how old I am.”
“Gloria,” says Anna.
“No, fuck this,” snarls Gloria. “We got the space. We’re doing the thing. It’s gonna be epic. And you can either get on board, get your, people, involved,” the woman on the couch, clutching her purse, “you can write about it like you know what’s gonna happen,” the woman all in black, hands in her pockets, smirking, “or you can scramble to catch up after, like everyone else.”
“Ms. Thorpe, we must apologize,” says Anna, after a moment, but “No, no,” says the woman all in black, “tempers run hot and you let them out and that’s fine, and then you stop and you take a deep breath and you think. Maybe you do this, or maybe tomorrow you’re kicked out for squatting. You don’t – ”
“Hey, Anna!” says Gloria. “What’s the owner got to say, about us being here?”
“There are no objections,” says Anna, but Thorpe looks away, rolling her eyes. “I did my homework,” she says, lifting her little grey hat, “or I wouldn’t be here at all,” scratching her head, her dark hair short, swept back. “You’re Suzette Wilson, you’re Tom Wilson’s daughter, and I’m sorry for your loss, but the title to this pile is hardly as clear-cut as,” but Gloria’s saying, “This, this is my place,” as Thorpe says “that’s before we even get into the questions of insurance, and zoning, and inspections,” but Gloria’s shouting “S1! Last Thursday! The Teahouse! You think they waited around for fucking paperwork?”
Anna and the woman on the couch, watching them both, Gloria seething, Thorpe settling her hat on her head, “Well,” she’s saying, tucking her hands in the pockets of her coat, “S1 is street-legal now, yeah, and the Teahouse? That was in Sellwood? Long gone. And you have any idea how much the merchants on Alberta pay the city for extra cops?” A shrug, and that smirk warms to something more sympathetic. “You want to beg forgiveness instead of ask permission and I can respect that, but there’s this delicate balance. You gotta be big enough to get noticed, but you can’t be so big you get noticed, you know?” Looking out, over the cavernous space below. “And all this you want to do in a week.” Turning back, hands spread in a hapless shrug, a burble of sound, “I like you,” she says, “I do, I like the idea,” looking up. It sounds like someone’s singing up there.
Up there, up at the edge of the planks laid across the joists, up by the brief ladder bolted to the wall a couple of long bare legs kicked over and orange underpants, ee, ee-oh nor, the keening voice a grunt, doo da-da dee, doo da-da dee, down the ladder to the walkway up there, a wild mad cloud of white-gold hair, “and quickly was received, enthusiastically,” and Thorpe looks down, over at the paintings leaned, at the image on the enormous monitor. “Some say that it had more to do with her,” the singer’s making her way, hand on the railing, “improper sense of dress, than her talent, or her diligence,” opening a door up there, painted with letters that possibly once said Ranchers, or Gardeners, and closing it muffles her song. “I’m sorry,” says Anna, drawing back their attention. “It seems Marfisa forgot we were meeting this morning.”
“I’ve seen,” says Thorpe, “I’ve heard her, before.”
“Salt and Straw,” says the woman on the couch, but then, lifting a finger, “no, that’s the ice cream.”
“She kinda came with the place,” says Gloria. Up there a crash of water, flushing, that door opens, Marfisa’s stepping out, “Cartier Bresson!” she shouts. “Max Ernst, Paul Eluard, George Bataille,” as she’s making her way back along the wall above them. “Their misogyny really irritated her, but she wasn’t, she,” stopping, standing there, wavering a little, looking down at them. Absently scratching just beneath a breast, and sunlight flashing from the gold dust spangling her skin.
“I heard you play once,” says Thorpe, abruptly.
Her wide smile spreading, Marfisa tips back her white-gold head, “Lee, ee-oh nor!” she sings, reaching for the ladder. “Lee, ee-oh nor!” Climbing back up toward the makeshift floor above.
“Stone and Salt!” says the woman on the couch. “That was it.”

Ding the microwave, she opens the door of it, reaches in with a hot pad for a steaming pink mug that says Sophia & Dorothy & Blanche & Rose. In she dunks a purple octopus infuser, dandling its delicate chain a moment. Color blooms.
Out of the kitchen, across the living room, dark wood paneling, grey-green shag, shuff and snap of her slippers into a nook of a hall, too brightly lit. She nudges open a door left ajar, into a small dark room lit only by sunlight staining the edges of heavy curtains drawn, and almost entirely filled by a great wide bed. “I’ve brought tea,” she says, setting the mug on the nightstand in the corner. “Hey.” Sitting on the edge of the bed. “I called Reg,” she says, reaching along the margin of the thick dark comforter, and a gentle stroke for the blond head there, turned away. “Told him we’d need another week. He wasn’t happy, but hey. Fuck him.” Tucking a lock of her own hair, as blond, as straight, behind her ear. “Chrissie,” she says. “Chér.”
“I don’t want any tea.”
“Yeah, well,” says Ettie, and she gets to her feet with a sigh. “This would be why I stick with men. They can’t break your heart.”

The door swings open, for a moment all’s revealed, scarred floor and drifts of grit against the bar, peeling dimpled paint along the front of it and its cracked vinyl bumper, dust furring the bottles along the top shelf, the washed-out flyspecked neon lights, the bartender, spiky hair flared palely to a golden brown, hand up against the raw daylight, skinny arm festooned with shadowy tattoos, “Jacks?” says Jessie, blinking, but the light’s swallowed away as the door swings shut, and dimness closes about the warm neon, the sparkle of glass, the rattle of drums and a couple of jangled chords, bubbling bass, “Jackie?” says the bartender, his hair gone black. “Ah, naw. She ain’t here.”
“Oh,” says Jessie, in her puffy pink parka. “Sorry. I thought,” and she shakes her head, Americans were thus denied, someone’s singing, with the guitar and the drums, all right to travel to the other side. “She usually works mornings,” says Jessie. “Any idea when she’s in next?”
“No, see,” says the bartender, “I mean, she’s not here? Anymore?” Folding those skinny arms, leaning his elbows on the bar. “And we can’t be giving out people’s schedules, come on. Basic security.”
“I’m a friend,” says Jessie, and then, “I used to dance here? About a year, year and a half ago. Went by Rain?”
“If you’re a friend,” says the bartender, “I mean, she left, what, right after the holidays? Two, three months ago? So, I mean,” and he spreads his hands. “Want something to drink?”
“Where’d she go?” says Jessie.
“I don’t know, Eugene or something? But even if I did I couldn’t tell you, because, security, you know. Coffee? Anything?”
Betcha my life, there’d be no violence there, and she opens her mouth to speak but everything lights up again, washed out, as the door swings open, two women, raincoat, trench coat, gym bag and backpack, nodding to the bartender who waves hello as they head through empty tables past the empty little stage, toward the nondescript door back there. “How about Chilli,” says Jessie. “He back there?”
“He, naw, Chilli, we’re,” the bartender jumps as she walks away, “we’re under new management,” he calls after her, “so,” but there’s confusion by that nondescript door as it opens, those women stepping through around and past a man who’s stepping out, brown leather vest and rich red hair flopping from a widow’s peak, “I need you to,” the bartender’s saying. Jessie waves him off. “It’s Gaveston,” she says. “I know Gav.”
But Gaveston’s holding the door for someone else, a tall woman in a white track suit, short hair greenly yellow, and Jessie stops short, in the midst of the empty tables. “Chariot?” she says. The tall woman’s saying something to Gaveston, as she heads off past the little stage. “Iona?” says Jessie, and the tall woman looks over to see her there in pink. “Oh,” she says, stopped short. “Rain.”
“Is she here?” says Jessie. “The,” a cough, “the Princess? Uh, Queen? Ysabel?”
Iona’s shaking her head, “I’m merely here on her behalf,” she says, stepping away, but “Iona,” says Jessie, “Chariot, tell her, please,” and Iona stops, looks back. “Yes?” she says.
Jessie looks away. “Nothing,” she says. “Don’t tell her anything. Not even, that you saw me.”
“As you wish,” says Iona. Jessie’s still looking away, there among the empty tables. I’d want the giddy-up, the guitar jangles, I’d want to live it up, I’d want the pick-me-up, and the nondescript door back there’s now shut. The bartender isn’t behind the bar that flares, scoured once more by daylight as Iona opens the door outside. She steps through, the door swings shut, the darkness returns.

Nox Sea Raid say the letters punched in light across the screen. Choose Your Squad swooshes in below. A husky contralto says Set em up Sarge over the speakers, and the guy on the beanbag thumbs and clicks the controller in his lap, wheeling the view on the screen about a motley crew of centaurs, each stepping up to present arms as the focus settles fleetingly on them, uttering a catch-phrase, Rock an roll, rack em and pack em, they will fear my song, buzzbombs why’s it have to be buzzbombs, reportin for beauty! rock an rack em rock an pack em why’s it have to fear my rock an roll an reportin! “This is gonna suck,” says the guy on the beanbag, “I need more’n one tank for this.” Wrinkles about his eyes and gingery stubble along his jaw. “Whaddaya think,” he says, looking away from the screen, “would a Mixolydian,” but there’s nobody beside him, there’s a man headed away, over toward the grand dark staircase, dodging around a dark wood column, his sweater bulky, red, he’s looking up to the woman stopped there on the stairs, black trousers, a bowtie unclipped about her winged collar. “Long as he needs,” she’s saying, and “Oh,” says the guy on the beanbag, turning back to the screen, “Ellen’s home.” Clicking through the figures on the screen, rock an roll, reportin for beauty, they will fear, “The hell was he doing, wearing my shirt?” and the guy on the beanbag looks up again at that, the man in the red sweater a step or two up the stairs, and Ellen above him, maybe a shrug, “It looks better on him,” she’s saying, turning away. Why’s it have to be, says the centaur on the screen. Rack em!
previous Table of Contents
submitted by kiplet1 to redditserials [link] [comments]

2023.06.07 14:48 Rekerer97 My TV remote shattered reality

I lived in Soviet Russia and it was a cold night. I was bored watching the television like a boomer. I couldn't hear it so I got the tv remote and turned the volume up on the tv but nothing changed, I kept pressing it and pressing it but again nothing changed. I pressed it a final time before realizing something was changing in the corner of my eye, through the window. I saw something terrifying. I didn’t want to believe it at first so I ignored it then went again to try and turn the volume up on my tv. I turned my head sideways to the left out of my window and saw it… the moon was getting larger or closer or both every time I used that volume button and it freaked me out.
So what did I do? I tried turning the volume down on my tv to see if that would make the TV quieter, no nothing happened, I did it again whilst looking up at the sky the moon didn’t change it was still three times larger than what it usually looks like. What was happening when I tried turning it down though? I tried reducing the volume a few more times then I realized what was happening. My middle finger was growing. I was scared as fuck at this point, I must be high or I must be in a dream. I tried pinching myself but it didn’t work. My middle finger was twice as long as what it used to be, is this some kind of joke I thought, whilst my inner evil side was telling me that it was a good thing that I could swear at someone with my hand twice as good as before. Was the fuck was going on? I didn’t want to fuck myself up anymore but I needed to experiment so I tried to use the channel changing buttons on my remote.
I tried to hit the channel up on my remote. It was as I predicted, no response from my TV at all, I looked outside, no difference to the moon, I looked at my double length middle finger, no difference. What changed? I hit it a few more times and I felt something strange. There was a tight feeling on my right hand, my right arm was very slowly shrinking. I couldn't believe it. I was so disturbed I started to cry because my body was now actually fucked up. I didn’t want to use that remote anymore but my curiosity got the better of me so I had to try the opposite to channel up, which of course was channel down.
I hit the button, this time I noticed a difference without hitting it multiple times straight away. I felt dizzy, slightly but enough to tell. I hit it again to just see if it would affect me again… it did. The room was spinning a bit but not so much that I felt like passing out or anything. There is no way this isn’t a dream, it's just not possible otherwise it would be on the news about the moon getting closer or larger but nope my TV was stuck on the shitty film channels that don’t broadcast anything good like they used to.
I went online to check the news, social media or anything else that was my intention but I never got there as I found myself back on my bed lying down with my eyes closed.
Was it a dream? Yes, my body was normal. Thank god, I looked outside, the moon was still there but normal sized and how it should be. The TV however was extremely loud so I picked up and went to turn the volume down but I stopped myself… instinctively. I was scared to use that remote but I thought to myself, it was just a dream right… it was just a dream I'm being silly now so I went to turn the volume down, it didn’t work… My worst nightmares were now reality as my middle finger became tense. I looked at it but it didn’t seem to look any different. I couldn’t risk it so I opened my window and threw my remote outside and it smashed on the concrete below. BIG MISTAKE.
I should have tried the power button, or any other way to solve my problem but i was acting dumb, after the remote hit the floor and smashed, my head was spinning at a million miles an hour, my middle finger smashed through my bedroom window and the moon was crashing down into earth, my finger penetrated the moon and my body flew towards it like it was being used as a grappling hook. As my right arm diminished into my body, my body started diminishing but my left arm was growing with my middle finger. My head was spinning so fast that my body started spinning too, the moon was spinning on my finger and going so fast that it caught fire. I felt heat, burning and intense pain. My brain was inside the moon and my middle finger was still growing far beyond the universe crashing inside multiple different alien planets. I was the destroyer of worlds but for the extreme pain I was in no way of feeling like I was going to die.
The moon was still growing also, it was consuming the universe but it was spinning through my middle finger like a wrecking ball. The speed was uncalculated and impossible but it was happening. In all of the chaos and destruction through all of the shit that was happening a thought entered my mind… this was not a dream, this was reality and thought that there was no way back, no return journey and my fate was sealed. Something strange happened, everything stopped, time itself prevented any more chaos. My brain was at the core of the moon and had grown alongside the moon, and my colossus universe expanding finger was my only tool, the rest of my body was nothing. So there I was stuck… stuck just there with nothing but emptiness. It was hell that I was and hell that I never imagined.
Millions of years passed and I was still here, all I could do was think, just think and think some more. I could do nothing. My middle finger grew to the point where I couldn't move it anymore as it had burst out of the 100th dimension. It was over for life itself. The only thing left in the universe was my brain, the moon itself merged with it and my brain was just there. After all this time being doomed like this there is nothing left to tell but to just think about my previous life and how I just wanted to adjust my TV volume. I then thought, what if this was a story… What would the moral of it be? The only joy and happiness came to me in the answer of a useless question… the moral of the story is that in Soviet Russia… remote controls you.
submitted by Rekerer97 to copypasta [link] [comments]

2023.06.07 14:35 Good-Pomegranate-841 My Aunt knows no privacy

Throwaway cause I have family on my main
So I get out of the bath, and go into my room. I’m cold so instead of towel drying I just sit in my bed in my towel, staring at the wall and zoning out. Eventually when I’m warming up, I pull my laptop out (my Aunty has taken my tv off me so I watch Netflix on my laptop) and put on the Big Bang Theory. Suddenly my Aunt barges in, my towel had fallen down so she saw my bare chest. I quickly pull my towel back up and tell her to leave as I’m about to get dressed. She looks at me, then my laptop (which is facing away from her) and shrieks “What are you watching whilst naked?” She pulls my screen down and almost looks disappointed to see it was just an innocent tv show. I can’t watch porn on any technology anyway because she has safety lock on all my devices (I’m 16 btw) she walks out my room and I’m left upset and angry.
Another time I was taking too long in the bath so she tried to come in the bathroom to get me but the door was locked. So she gets the garage key and shimmies the bathroom lock and barges in. I had no privacy.
We recently had a huge argument and I’ve moved in with my grandad. Me and Aunty get on ok now we’re not ripping each others throats out. But I’m still mad that she thinks our miserable relationship was all my fault.
I lived with my Aunty cause my parents died of cancer when I was 9/10
submitted by Good-Pomegranate-841 to raisedbynarcissists [link] [comments]

2023.06.07 14:28 FangGrip [Offline][Woodbridge VA][LGBTQ+ Friendly][21+][6 PM EST Every Other Saturday][5e] GM looking for 1 Player for existing 5E Midgard setting


I am an experienced game master looking for one additional adult player (21+) to join an existing D&D 5e Midgard campaign in the Woodbridge / Dale City area. We will be meeting from 6 PM to 11ish every other Saturday (Next Session is June 17th). The game is a local tabletop game hosted at my home.
I will be making my final decisions by the 9th of June.
It is very likely with all of the stupidity Hasbro has been doing of late that our campaign will transition to the Tales of the Valiant 5e variant being created by Kobold Press once it becomes available. This will be discussed as the campaign continues.
As a way to keep things interesting, I like to have a short adventure that is not related to the campaign when the characters hit a level milestone. We generally have a two or three session experience with a different system each time. This includes a homebrew system we are creating and playtesting.

Rules & Expectations

I hope to have a laid back and inclusive game where all levels of gaming experience, genders, cultures, races, and sexuality are welcome. All that I ask is that you are polite to each other, engaged in the campaign, and try to be proactive. If you are not LGBTQ+ friendly, please do not apply.


We will be using D&D Beyond for character creation and management. You will not need to purchase any of the source material as I have an account that will share them with you, once you have joined the campaign. If we do transition to Tales of the Valiant, we will be changing this management to Demiplane as their 5E nexus becomes available. They will have the same sharing ability as D&D beyond , so don't worry.

Setting & Campaign

The setting will be Midgard from Kobold Press, but the themes and goals will be player and character oriented. My play style leans towards plot and narrative driven gaming, with an entertaining amount of puzzles, exploration, and combat. I love getting player input and creativity to help shape and propel the campaign forward. My games have a solid narrative thread that binds them but I never have any qualms about improvising or allowing players the freedom to make the story their own.
The campaign so far deals with an evil book called the Umbral Codex which was split into three parts and hidden away. So far one villain has a third, and a former player character was corrupted when she found the second. Now the third is up for grabs and the party must fight two villains to keep the Codex safe until they can destroy it.

Optional Rules


I am experienced in quite a few games including D&D (Classic Boxed, 1st Edition, 2nd Edition, 5th Edition), Fate Core, Dresden Files, Alpha Chronicles, FFG Star Wars, World of Darkness (oWOD & nWOD), Aberrant, Palladium Megaverse, Cypher System, Cyberpunk 2020, Shadowrun, Hackmaster, Top Secret SI, and quite a few others.

Contact Info

Please feel free to contact me on discord ( FangGrip#7572 ) if you are interested in joining or if you have any questions. I would like to have a conversation with all prospective players. This conversation does not guarantee you a slot in the game but will help keep you in mind in case a player chooses to resign or ghost us. There is no impersonal form to fill out, but I will need some basic information.

Thank you for reading this post. I know it's fairly long, but I want to save people time by giving you all the information I can think of to help you determine if we are right for you.
submitted by FangGrip to lfg [link] [comments]

2023.06.07 14:17 jhnbsomerscz4gm Does anyone have Bed Bath and Beyond coupons?

Visit here for Bed Bath and Beyond Promo Code
Unlock amazing savings on Bed Bath and Beyond products using our exclusive coupon codes on this page. Don’t pay full price when you can enjoy unbeatable discounts. Discover the best deals and discounts on a wide range of high-quality items. Say goodbye to overpaying and hello to smart shopping with Bed Bath and Beyond promo codes. Visit this page for more + Bed Bath and Beyond Promo Codes & Deals.
submitted by jhnbsomerscz4gm to BestPromoCode [link] [comments]

2023.06.07 13:54 Athers99 Epix 2 -> Fenix 7 Pro conclusion

I’ve had an epix 2 since release, and received a fenix 7 pro sapphire a few days ago (I’ve had many fenix models over the years), main reasons were flashlight, battery life, readability when in the sun especially with sunglasses. Here’s my conclusion, in short, fenix 7 is boxed and being returned!
All the new software (endurance, hill score etc) is superb and better than Epix today, however that software is coming to Epix during next beta cycle so only a differentiator for a few months max.
Screen quality and readability (large part of a watch’s usefulness) when in the house (even when a light room) is poor though, meaning I had to get closer than normal to the watch to see figures/words on the watch face. Backlight helped but still a lot worse. Outside it’s pretty good but clarity on smaller fonts, which are otherwise easy to read on Epix. Yes I can see it at random angles with sunglasses, however with the Epix in direct sun with sunglasses on I sometimes can’t read it at extreme angles, straight on no issues at all. Epix clear winner with 1 negative which is easily liveable
Solar is a total gimmick though, lux hours is interesting but the fact that this doesn’t translate into battery % gain in any form, doesn’t add value, nor is the UI in the Connect app unless you dig into the depths which is a shame as that could be gamified etc if more visible, with a sustainability angle etc. Seems better implemented in Edge devices I’m told, maybe due to larger cells therefore there’s a point talking about the gain
Flashlight is superb, hard to believe it’s that bright but useful weeing the dog in the evenings or last night searching for dummies under my daughters bed when she was asleep (orange mode!), but not enough to retain the watch.
Battery life - well I get 5-6d from my Epix with 2h+ of gps activity a day, which is beyond adequate for me, marathons etc all fine. It’s nicer to have longer, but not necessary for significant downgrade to the screen quality.
Each person would need to work out their view based on their usage type but Epix feels the clear winner for all except very niche scenarios and I can now say that having used both!
Ask any questions you may have and will try to answer
submitted by Athers99 to GarminFenix [link] [comments]

2023.06.07 13:31 Silver_Fern_ Overcoming Jet Lag: Study Abroad Tips

Overcoming Jet Lag: Study Abroad Tips
the anticipation of studying abroad in a new country is an exhilarating experience. You eagerly envision exploring new landscapes, immersing yourself in a different culture, and forging lifelong friendships. However, one aspect that can pose a challenge to your study abroad adventure is the adjustment to a new time zone and the dreaded jet lag that often accompanies long-haul flights.
Jet lag occurs when your body's internal clock, known as the circadian rhythm, becomes out of sync with the local time at your destination. This disruption can lead to a range of unpleasant symptoms, including fatigue, difficulty sleeping, irritability, and decreased concentration. The severity and duration of jet lag vary from person to person, but the good news is that there are effective strategies to minimize its impact and help you smoothly transition into the new time zone.
Before you embark on your study abroad journey, it's essential to start preparing your body for the upcoming time zone difference. Gradually adjust your sleeping and eating schedule a few days before your departure. If you're traveling east, try going to bed and waking up earlier each day. Conversely, if you're traveling west, shift your schedule later. This gradual adjustment can help minimize the shock to your system when you arrive at your destination. In this blog post, we will explore effective strategies to overcome jet lag and smoothly adjust to a new time zone.

Prepare before your trip:

To further prepare your body for the time zone difference, consider adjusting your meal times as well. Gradually shift your eating schedule to align with the local dining customs of your destination. This can help regulate your body's internal clock and facilitate a smoother transition. Additionally, try to get regular exercise leading up to your departure. Engaging in physical activity can help regulate your sleep patterns and improve your overall well-being, setting a healthy foundation for adjusting to the new time zone.

Stay hydrated and avoid alcohol and caffeine:

While it's tempting to indulge in a glass of wine or a cup of coffee during your flight, it's best to avoid alcohol and caffeine. These substances can disrupt your sleep and exacerbate the effects of jet lag. Instead, opt for water or herbal tea to stay hydrated throughout your journey. Consider bringing a reusable water bottle to fill up during layovers or at the airport. Staying hydrated not only helps combat jet lag but also supports your overall health and well-being.

Sleep on the plane:

Sleeping on the plane can be challenging, but with the right preparations, you can increase your chances of getting some rest. Dress comfortably in loose-fitting clothing and bring essentials like a neck pillow, cozy blanket, and noise-canceling headphones. Adjust your seat to a reclined position and try to recreate a sleep-friendly environment. Minimize distractions by turning off overhead lights and avoiding screen time. Consider using sleep aids such as melatonin, but consult with a healthcare professional before doing so. By prioritizing sleep on the plane, you can arrive at your destination feeling more refreshed and ready to adapt to the new time zone.

Get natural sunlight and exercise:

Upon arrival at your study abroad destination, make it a priority to expose yourself to natural sunlight. Sunlight helps regulate your body's production of melatonin, a hormone that influences your sleep-wake cycle. Spend time outdoors during daylight hours, whether it's taking a stroll in a nearby park or studying in a sunny outdoor spot. This exposure to natural light will help synchronize your internal body clock with the local time, making it easier to adjust.
In addition to sunlight, incorporating exercise into your daily routine is beneficial for overcoming jet lag. Engaging in physical activity not only increases your energy levels but also helps regulate your circadian rhythm. Consider joining a local gym, exploring scenic jogging trails, or participating in group fitness classes. By getting your body moving, you'll not only combat jet lag but also enhance your overall well-being during your study abroad experience.

Gradually adjust your schedule:

When you arrive at your study abroad destination, it can be tempting to take a nap or give in to fatigue. However, it's crucial to resist the urge and stay awake until an appropriate bedtime in the local time zone. If you arrive during the daytime, keep yourself occupied with activities and sightseeing to help you adjust to the new schedule. Plan engaging outings, meet up with local friends, or explore your campus and surroundings. Avoid excessive napping, as it can disrupt your sleep patterns and prolong the adjustment period.
In the evening, create a calm and relaxing routine to signal to your body that it's time to sleep. Dim the lights, avoid stimulating screens, and engage in soothing activities like reading or taking a warm bath. Establishing a consistent bedtime routine will aid in your transition and help you achieve restful sleep.
Remember, overcoming jet lag and adjusting to a new time zone takes time and patience. Be kind to yourself as you adapt to the changes, and don't hesitate to seek support from fellow study abroad students, university resources, or local communities. By implementing these strategies and maintaining a positive mindset, you'll be well-equipped to conquer jet lag and fully embrace your study abroad experience.
As you embark on your study abroad journey, overcoming jet lag and adjusting to a new time zone may initially seem daunting. However, with careful preparation, mindful choices, and a willingness to adapt, you can navigate these challenges and make the most of your study abroad experience.
Remember that adjusting to a new time zone is a gradual process. Be patient with yourself and give your body the time it needs to acclimate to the new environment. Embrace the adventure and view the adjustment period as an opportunity for growth and exploration.
While jet lag can be disruptive, it shouldn't overshadow the incredible experiences that await you. Take advantage of the unique cultural opportunities, immerse yourself in the local community, and forge connections with fellow students and locals. Engaging in these activities will not only help you adjust to the new time zone but also enrich your study abroad experience.
Seek support from your study abroad program, university resources, and fellow students who are navigating the same challenges. Share your experiences, exchange tips, and lean on each other for encouragement and guidance. Remember, you're not alone in this journey.
Finally, maintain a positive mindset and embrace the beauty of the unknown. Studying abroad is a transformative experience that pushes you out of your comfort zone and expands your horizons. Embrace the differences, savor the moments, and cherish the memories that will last a lifetime.
By implementing the tips and strategies discussed in this blog post, you can minimize the impact of jet lag and smoothly adjust to the new time zone. Stay hydrated, prioritize sleep, expose yourself to natural light, and gradually align your schedule with the local time. With these tools in your arsenal, you'll be well-equipped to overcome jet lag and fully immerse yourself in the incredible journey of studying abroad.
Bon voyage and embrace the adventure that awaits you!
submitted by Silver_Fern_ to StudyOverseas [link] [comments]

2023.06.07 12:19 glossaam The idea of my dads body decomposing in his grave keeps me up at night

I was a caregiver and i was giving him bed baths in the hospital just 3 weeks back. He was so young, i hate this.
submitted by glossaam to GriefSupport [link] [comments]

2023.06.07 12:17 CommercialMaximum354 Death in the Welsh Valleys, the Clydach Murders

Hello there. Today I'm going to talk about one of the most controversial cases of a wrongful conviction in recent UK criminal history, the 1999 Clydach Murders.
The Victim's Murders.
In the early morning hours of June 27 1999, the bodies of Dorris Dawson, 80, her daughter Amanda Power, 34, and her granddaughters Katie, 10, and Emily, 8, were found in their burned out home in Kelvin Road, Clydach which is a village located in the Principality of Swansea in South Wales. The victims were discovered dead when firefighters were called to put out a fire. It is believed that two fires were set one around Midnight and another a few hours later, both in an attempt to conceal the crimes. All four women were found to have been beaten in the head with a piece of lead piping that had become somewhat of a toy to the young girls, who liked to twirl it around like a baton. Dorris was killed in her bed, while Amanda (better known as Mandy) and her daughters were killed on the landing.
Neighbour Rosemary Jones says she was woken up when she heard a car approach the house around 1am, but assumed it was Mandy returning home. However, she now believes this could have been the killer returning back to set fire to the house after murdering the family. There was no sign of forced entry to the house, which led detectives to believe it was someone the family knew. Among the evidence was a blood-soaked sock police believe was used as a glove, and a gold chain that appeared to have been pulled off the killer in a fight with Mandy. Now remember thos gold chain because I'm going to talk about it later on.
The Investigation and the suspect David Morris.
The vicious death sparked one of the most expensive and extensive investigations in the history of the South Wales police. Morris, 38 at the time of his arrest, lived in the nearby town of Craig Cefn Parc, about a mile away from the Powers' home. He was taken in by police 18 months after the murders, when it was reported the gold chain found at the scene was his. Morris had no alibi for his whereabouts at the time of the murders, and frequently changed his story when questioned by Police. He claimed he spent that day getting drunk watching the rugby at a local pub, where he also had a row with his girlfriend who then stormed off home. He remained to continue drinking.
Morris states he left at 11.30pm and decided to stay at his parents, starting a potential five-mile walk through country roads to get to them. He then changed his mind, returning to his own house by 4.30am. However, these timings fit in perfectly with the murders taking place, and witnesses at the pub claim they overheard him bad-mouthing Mandy, calling her an "old cow" and an "unfit mother". It was also claimed that he had taken amphetamines during his time at the pub. During his initial interview, he said the gold chain wasn't his, but was similar to one he had broken about two weeks later while working on a building site. He later changed his story when his cousin, Eric Williams, said Morris had asked him for money to buy a chain similar to the one he had lost, and he had bragged that he'd slept with Mandy the Friday before the murders, leaving the chain there.
Morris said he did have sex with Mandy and asked for money for the chain, but only to affirm his innocence rather than hide his guilt. At the time, he was a father to two daughters, and was living with his girlfriend, and didn't want to be found out as a cheater. He also wanted a similar chain to evade suspicion that the one at the crime scene was his. His rapidly changing story put him in poor favour with the jury, who saw the discussion at the pub and the chain as evidence of his guilt. Morris had also previously attacked someone, hitting him with a blunt instrument around the head, but it was later dismissed as the jury was persuaded he acted in self-defence. After being convicted once, Morris successfully fought for a retrial, and was convicted again. During that trial, the prosecution produced evidence via phone records proving he was at home at the time he claimed to be sleeping with Mandy. This in turn threw out the reason why his chain would be at the home. In October 2021, after a new independent investigation into the murders was launched, the police ruled the bloodied sock contained 'a scientific link' with Morris. "I hope this now provides closure for those most affected by the murders," the police said in a video released on Twitter. By this time, Morris had died in prison.
The Powers family maintain to this day, given the evidence they've seen in court, that Morris is the man responsible for the death of Dorris, Mandy, Katie and Emily. Martyn Lloyd-Evans, senior investigating officer of the investigation, tells Murder In The Valleys he has "no doubt in his mind" about Morris being the killer. "This case has been looked at and looked at and looked at and explored, and I'm puzzled that people can't see Morris for what he is," he said. "Everyone wants to be an armchair detective but they don't know the facts."
Wrongfully Convicted?
Despite the evidence placed against him by the prosecution, and his double conviction, there is an equal amount of evidence to suggest Morris was not guilty of the crimes. First, Morris was never seen in or near the vicinity of Mandy's home by any witnesses that evening. Second, despite a large amount of searching, there was never any definitive DNA evidence that he was in Mandy's home. Even the bloodied sock has been noted as a 'scientific link', with Steve Carey of Devon and Cornwall police stating in a video posted on Twitter that "the outcome of the forensic assessment has not established any information that undermines the conviction of David Morris". It is added the incomplete mixed Y-STR result is "as expected as if Morris had contributed to it". But South Wales Police have refused to release the report regarding the DNA to his defence team, which despite his death in August 2021, is continuing to fight for his exoneration. They have also refused to state exactly how conclusive the DNA evidence actually is on the sock (ie. whether it's definitive proof or if it wouldn't stand up in court).
His DNA wasn't found on the gold chain either, however forensics determined there was 'brick dust and green paint chips' within the links. Mostly, there is no determined motive as to why he would murder an entire family, with all evidence proving, at best, circumstantial. The prosecution successfully argued Morris 'flew into a fit of rage' after Mandy had rejected his sexual advances, but there was male DNA found at the crime scene, including on the murder weapon that again did not belong to Morris.
South Wales Police had also been coming under scrutiny for the number of criminal convictions that had been overturned in their jurisdiction, and their conduct throughout high-profile investigations. This included the Newsagent Three of 1987, where three men were wrongfully convicted and spent 11 years in prison for the murder of a newsagent, and five Black men wrongfully convicted for the murder of a woman in 1988. Due to the brutality of the murders, South Wales Police were under enormous pressure to find and convict Mandy's murderer. The alternative suspects came from within their own ranks – officers (and twin brothers) Stuart and Stephen Lewis, and Stephen's wife Alison. She was having an affair with Mandy at the time of the murder and Stuart was the first senior officer on the scene of the crime. However, again all members of the Lewis family similarly maintain their innocence in all aspects of the case, with Stephen claiming he had no idea about his wife's affair or homosexuality until after the murders went public.
Stephen and Alison were at one point arrested, but were released without charge after four days of questioning. There was not enough evidence to connect them to the crime and the Lewises were never charged. They were eventually ruled out as suspects in 2001.
Where is David Morris now?
Morris died after serving 22 years in HMP Long Lartin, Worcestershire on August 20, 2021. His cause of death was never officially confirmed. He had spent the rest of his life maintaining his innocence and appealing his conviction. In 2007, his whole-life sentence – which means no possibility for parole – was quashed with a minimum 32-year sentence put in its place. In January 2021, it was decided the police should re-examine the case. Murder In The Valleys follows the ensuing year of re-examination.
My thoughts on the case. Personally I'm sitting on the fence about whether Morris is guilty or not. However one thing I am certain of is that I do not believe that South Wales Police proved Morris's guilt (if he did do it) beyond reasonable doubt.
submitted by CommercialMaximum354 to UnresolvedMysteries [link] [comments]

2023.06.07 12:15 QwertyMelown So i have an NTR story again lololol, pls ask if theres something i missed and will try to explain it

Okay ive been thinking of donkey from the shrek, like you know he fucked a dragon i have a story:
So the mc and a dragon have been in a relationship after lots of time and fights and they and journey then they end up together and built a big territory big enough and comfortable for the dragon and mc to rest and work with. Then one day the mc wants to pleasure her dragon the mc and dragon have been having sex but the is the only one who can get pleasure since hes a human and not that big but ofc they used some toys big toys mc made and the feels the dragon isnt satisfied and just acting since its not his actual penis, and thats what is inside the mind of mc, since the mc wants to also fulfill her dragon's pleasure but ofc the dragon is too big, the mc decided to find some kind of magic and spell to make one living thing big overall size or make the dragon human temporarily and if mc where ever to find thst spell or magic mc is able to make it one of his pocket abilities and wants to know stuff about this since mc feels like his love isnt enough, thats what he thinks and also wanted to feel the dragon fully and embrace her but the dragon said it is fine she loves him the way he is and dont need such thing and shes pleasured enough with their doings and the mc insists "no im gonna find a way" , but then one time when the mc had to left their home (the mc wanted the dragon to come but the dragon said she has to take care of chores and shit like that then the mc insisted that its okay and will do it together just like before but the dragon said it is fine she wants to make the mc comfortable and make things ready for him to relax after the meeting (so its like some kind of treat) then the mc said "oh i see, alright then im excited now, please dont work to hard" then the dragon kissed the mc before he left. Then now the mc is about attend some kind of meeting with something, like u know guild stuff or shit like that in rpg, but apparently the meeting was cancelled when he got there now he excitedly wants to go home since all that meeting is just some unimportant stuff and now he thinks he should surprise the dragon and bought something the dragon likes. Then when he came back home, meeting was supposed to last like 4hours so thats why he wanted to surprise the dragon, then when he was close to home he heard a loud noise and its a moan of a dragon, then mc hurriedly came real fast cause he thought shes in danger and he also heard a male voice dragon then when he got there he discovered the female dragon, is having sex with some big strong dragon and he can see how pleasured the female dragon and at this moment he knew hes right about the dragon getting what she needs, and must be containing this, this whole time, but ofc he was hurt since he already told he'd find a way for them to fully pleasure each other since the mc also wants to fully feel her and then the mc yelled to them saying "what the fuck is this" then the they were startled and the mc charged to the male dragon and almost killed him if it wasnt for the female dragon stopping him then the female dragon was scared and worried and trying to reason then they had a lot of arguing for a minutes saying she has needs then the mc said "i already told u i'd find a way for us but u insisted and now this?!" then the mc left in tears and were deeply hurt. The female dragon tried stopping him and begged to not leave her but he vanished (he has some kind of abilites since its rpg and hes strong)
Then when the mc left crying while wandering around somewhere dont know what to do and feel lifeless, the mc got a notification from the meeting saying the reason why it got cancelled, turns out theyve been busy trying to raid some big level boss for days and if they managed to defeat it, they'll be able to get a huge amount of valuables, then the mc came hurriedly and in despair and wanted to take all his anger and sadness to that boss.
The guild was surprised how much stronger the mc was than before and saw him in a state they've never seen before, he was in rage and sadness when he defeated the dragon with ease and didnt feel enough that he almost killed one of his mates, when he was about to kill his mate, something in boss home came out of nowhere turns out it was a daughter of the boss theyve killed and its a dragon, ( the boss dragon [the father] was actually torturing his daughter into becoming a dragon made for killing) so it means shes strong but the boss [the father of the dragon that appeared to stop the mc] was so cruel that all his doing is evil killing innocent kinds and even the daughter wanted to kill him, but she cant since hes strong and was surprised that the mc was able to take it down easily.
So when the dragon, [daughter of the boss] stopped the mc, the mc was surprised and also almost killed her, but then when shes on the ground, wounded, she told the mc she meant no hurt and explained his fathers evil doing and also wanted to kill him, and said they've also saved her from his cruel evil doings of his father, his guildmate said its a trap and might be just reasoning so they said to the mc to end her, but then mc remembered how he also saved a dragon, her gf who now cheated, the mc treated the the dragon daughter with his skills healing and such, but still have to rest, the guildmates was surprised and tried arguing with him but the mc showed them a face he never showed before so they just let him be then they took the valuables, loots all that.
Then the guildmated asked if he wanted to come home with them the mc responsed in a calm manner and wanted to stay with the daughter dragon since shes wounded by him and wanted to take care and its hes responsible for it, so they understand him and told the mc to be careful and gave the mc foods and comforting stuff so they dont have to worry for the mc.
And the mc ofcourse apologized deeply for the guild and specially the one he almost killed, and thank them for this, and he said, he'll take care of this dragon, and told their goodbyes and they said to expect the mc to join the celebration (just like before) of after everytime they succeed in killing a boss, specially this one since this was the hardest took a great amount of guildmates/members, and mc said yes he'll try to, and said that he just have a lot of things going on, and so they said their goodbyes.
Then a moment later the mc treated the daughter dragon for fast healing while the daughter dragon is sleeping/resting then he fell asleep.
Next day he woke up and was surprised its already afternoon and the celebration is always celebrated at night the day after they've killed a boss.
Then he heard someone is doing something and when he saw it, its a woman and threatened her who she is and why is she here and wheres the dragon, then the female dragon calmly explained. Turns out shes the dragon and can shape shift with her abilities, and the mc was shocked and sad when remembered his gf (his gf is around 30+ based on her age and looks, she looks like a mom) and this woman also looks like a mom but shes inexperienced about such and tried having relationship with other dragons but she just cant find the interest even when she tried having intercourse (one time when the dragon who she tried having sex with showed his penis the daughter dragon didnt feel any interest but then the dragon tried force her she said sorry but she really dont feel like it then the dragon tried raping her then she cuts off the dragon penis and left) and also was because of his father forcing her to get stronger, so she never had any interest in relationship.
Then the mc was shocked, the daughter dragon cooked a meal for both of them and she said to sit and they'll have a meal, then they talked about the things that happened yesterday, and had a cry and laugh. Then after eating, the mc helped the daughter dragon in human form to do the dishes then after, he sit on the bed and explained why he was in raged that time when he killed the boss, her father, after explaning what happened he couldn't help but let a tear out, then the daughter dragon comforted him and ended up them having lovey dovey. <3
Then after that they go outside and had an interest to each others abilities and teached eachother so the mc learned a skill to be a giant and can even be dragon because when they had seggs they apparently in surprised both of them got some of their skills, and now mc can turn into a dragon and even change his size overall and human size too so thats why he can be a giant, the for the daughter dragon she learned some of his skills too and even felt eachother emotion. (While the fmc dragon his old gf, is trying to find the mc and is in deep regret and still trying to find the mc anywhere).
Then the mc remembers the celebration if his guild/mates, so he invited her to come with him and celebrate, she agrees.
Then after they come to the celebration and had lots of food and drinks, the daughter dragon got drunk easily and mc took her to a room then the daughter dragon tried kissing the mc and the mc said shes drunk but they can easily remove it with abilities but mc said she gotta experience how it like to be drunk, but the daughter dragon knows she is drunk and wanted to kiss mc, and tried saying to the mc its fine, since its the mc and she knows its mc, but the mc said shes drunk she needs to rest since its her first time the mc wanted to let the mc what it feels to be drunk, since when they talked lots of things earlier, the dragon daughter said she never had any alcohol and never had interest with it plus his father never allowed her to buy for herself. So she drink in the celebration in appreciation of mc and what theyve been through, the she kept talking and mc then mc layed her down to bed then fell asleep, the mc stays there to accompany her, then a moment later mc heard her talking, and mc thinks shes just dreaming, then while shes talking she accidentally transformed or shapeshift into a dragon then took the mc outside and ofcourse the room was damaged then the daughter dragon took mc somewhere high like a mountain where there is no one.
Then the old/ex gf of mc heard something and hurriedly came into that noise then she saw something on the mountain, then she sneakily go in there, then she saw mc and a female dragon, their position is the daughter dragon is pinning mc in a dominating way while the mc is in human form while they're talking then after a minute of talking while the ex gf is watching she was about to stop them (the ex gf was hesitant if she should interrupt them, because shes still guilty as hell) but then the daughter dragon and kissed the mc erotically then the ex gf was shocked and was about to interrupt then the mc transformed into a dragon, so the ex gf was stunned of what happened, then the mc was hard in a dragon form then kissed the daughter dragon erotically then inserted his big dragon penis, even the daughter dragon was surprised, and the ex gf too of how the mc is bigger than most dragons.
Then the daughter dragon said to be gently since it'll be her first time then mc said, he will be but not for long, with a smirk, then the daughter dragon blushed and said "baka~ uwu~ <3" then when the mc was rubbing his dragon penis to the daughter dragon pussy, and was about to insert it, the ex gf interrupted them and yelled to them to stop! The mc was surprised also the daughter dragon then, the daughter dragon used her immobilizing ability to the ex gf, then the ex gf is stuck and cant move and said what is this and said to let her out or she will kill the daughter dragon, then the daughter dragon said "is this the gf dragon you're talking about?" Then the mc nodded, "then who do you choose me or her?" Then the mc had a moment then said "sorry but i think were done the moment u betrayed me" Then the ex gf dragon said "NO! NOO! I WONT DO IT AGAIN I PROMISE, I DIDNT MEAN TO DO IT, PLEASE COMEBACK! I DONT KNOW WHAT TO DO WITHOUT YOU!" Mc said "sorry, i tried fixing it, but u made it worse" then mc proceeds to instantly penetrate the daughter gf, then the daughter dragon said, "oooooh, wh-what d-did i-" while her eyes is white as paint in pleasure mc proceeds to slowly take out the shaft of his cock, *while the dragon daughter is in heaven from pleasure and mc said "oooh~ mmmh~ didnt know dragon felt this good~, while the ex gf is just watching trying to convince mc to stop and comeback, then ex gf said while crying "nooo~ this isn't you what are u doing~ then mc proceeds to feel heaven and kept penetrating and said "sorry maybe if u were faithful, you'll be the one im penetrating right now", then mc transformed into a human, in giant size, then proceeds to penetrate her daughter dragon said "ooohh human cock in dragon form~ we should do this more often" then the ex gf was so jealous and seeing them like that, the dragon ex gf proceeds to pleasure herself while crying and saying the mc's name.
Til morning the mc and daughter dragon kept having sex while transforming and testing lewd sex, theyve never knew would be beyond heaven, while the ex gf is in lifeless state and angry and sad she dont know what to feel, and deeply regretted of what she did and remembering all the time they've spent together with mc.
The mc now own a country and living with her wife (daughter dragon) and have multiple children, and plans to make them stronger by sending them out to other place, and ofc some of their children didnt want to, so the female children stayed with the mc and his wife, (this is 17year later the "sending" them out, but the mc and wife and gf is still young because of their abilities" while the ex gf became an obedient dog to the mc since she wanted to go back with the mc no matter what, but mc is still hurt, so mc didnt really treated her like before, and treats her new wife more, so the old gf mc had to begged and be a good dog if she wants pleasure with mc, (she also learned the abilites of mc and the daughter dragon through sex) and then the mc also had children and the plan is included for both of the children of daughter dragon and ex gf dragon.
And thus mc lived a happy long pleasurable fun life, with his wife and his dog.
Thanks for reading and my bad with grammars. Pls ask if theres a question.
submitted by QwertyMelown to antiNTRcorps [link] [comments]

2023.06.07 12:04 tdlb_ UCR housing for 2023 summer 1 bed 1 bath

I currently have a 1 bed 1 bath unit in a 2x2 apartment available at University Riverside Gardens. Move-in date as early as late June 2023 and with an option to renew. Rent is $1250 a month and did not furnish. About 15 mins walk to UCR and it's a safe community. Parking space is available. Feel free to contact me at 8052808813 for more details.
submitted by tdlb_ to ucr [link] [comments]