#Milky Mushroom Near me

[william-scott77]

BUY ALBINO PENIS ENVY ONLINE

(APE)  is also known as ALBINO PENIS ENVY  is a very unique strain of Psilocybe Cubensis magic mushroom strains. This mushroom is a hybrid of the infamous Penis Envy. Also Albino PF, this mushroom strain is very potent. Nevertheless, this mushroom strain is not producing much as compared to other psilocybe cubensis strains. This particular strain is small in stature. Also, very dense, and slow to mature. The spores are very hard to harvest because the caps do not show their gills. Also, the spores are  transparent in nature albino penis envy’s are known to being the  best of a “novelty mushroom.” So therefore it is  advisable to get a clone  from a nice cluster because it is  yielding will be  much better

[thegnomelord]

if you write a thing about the creaming the zussy i will kiss ur boots

The boots better be shining when you're done.

How To Cure Zombies 101

CW:NSFW MDNI, crackfic obv PiV sex, TLOU Clicker trans Ghost, Top Male Reader, established relationship, happy ending, dub-con because Simon consented before he got bit but reader is apprehensive, zombie sex (does it count as necro?) how does this work? idk porn logic. Don't ask me how this happened, i hope this doesn't become what my blog becomes known for.

When the Cordyceps spread across the planet and turned millions of people into shambling mushroom infested undead, the world ended.

When Simon got bitten. . . your world ended.

You still remember it like it had been yesterday; He came back bloody, an empty look in his eyes as he showed you the bite on his arm. Your hands shook as he wrapped them around the grip of the gun and aimed it at his head. You both ended up on the floor with you crying into his chest, unable to pull the trigger.

You remember the resigned look in his eyes when he had agreed to let you do whatever you needed to him to cure him, but both of you knew there was no way, what made you immune to the fungus was as mysterious to the rest of the world as it was for you. His lips had been burning hot when he laid a soft kiss on your forehead, the last sense of warmth you've felt since the docs took him to where they kept the infected for study, your heart leaving with him.

And now?

Now the scientists that have been prodding you like a lab rat since Simon got bitten nearly a year ago say they have a way to bring his mind back, to get Simon back.

And the way to do it?

"So let me get this straight?" You begin, your voice tense, your body even tenser. "You want me to fuck the corpse of my lover? And that will cure him?"

That. You're not sure how the eggheads arrived to this conclusion, frankly all of their scientific jargons had flown over your head. All you understood was that the man you had fallen since the first time you met him could be brought back.

You sincerely hope you won't make some type of super fungus through this.

Words can't describe what you feel as you look at Simon's (is it even Simon?) bound body writhing on the gyno chair, naked and bare to you. You doubt you even know what you feel, hope and fear simultaneously curling in your stomach— You hadn't had the courage to look at him ever since the scientists took him away; The harsh laboratory lights make it easy to see the mycelium filling his veins beneath the ashy pale skin, mushroom caps growing beneath his pecs and across all other scars he has. Red and yellow mushrooms have eaten away his nose and spread out to follow the contours of his face, growing in a way that makes the mushroom caps blend together into a skull shape.

Your heart aches when you see his eyes haven't been eaten away yet, the once deep brown turned milky white and staring lifelessly past you, thrashing about in the bindings, rotten teeth gnawing on the ball gag in his mouth, small hisses and malformed muffled clicks echoing through the room.

You try to look down and you stop at his stomach, forcing yourself to breathe in and out slowly because your heart is beating so fast it feels like you'll have a panic attack. You have no idea if this will work and doing this to Simon only to find out it's as useless as all your previous attempts to cure him. . . you're sure it would break you. Closing your eyes and counting to ten you will yourself to focus, your eyes opening slowly and following the trail of little mushroom caps down to his groin.

It's not what you expected., but it's. . . a lot; Mushroom caps have replaced the lips of his cunt, similar to the hard growths on his head but these look thinner and longer, almost like flower petals framing his cunt, bright red at the corners and getting progressively lighter as it nears his hole. A sort of morbid curiosity compels you to reach out brushing your fingertips against the caps. They're surprisingly softer than you had expected, smooth and slick with some kind of slime. You can't help but notice how a longer stalked mushroom grows from what had been his clit.

You jerk your hand back when a second brush of your fingers makes his body to jerk back and attempt to fight against the restraints, more angry clicks vibrating his throat.

But you also notice a kind of… sweet scent in the air and it's coming from him. Cautiously you brush against the caps again, slowly dipping your fingers under to touch the gills underneath. You keep your hand where it is when he thrashes again, but you're certain that smell is stronger now, and you catch the glimpse of clear viscous slick slowly leak from his hole.

Carefully you push a finger into his hole in an attempt to stretch him out. Logically you know that he probably doesn't feel it, but it feels wrong to just stick your cock in him; He's cold. You know he's dead but you had held out some hope that he would be warmer, that there would be some signs of life despite how stupid that sounds.

He's dry right now, but more of that clear fluid seeps around your fingers and lubes the way as you experimentally push your finger all the way up to the last knuckle, and you felt his muscles flutter around you, clenching down as if trying to draw you in deeper. His head continued to thrash around, no change in the feral behavior, but you still try to be gentle, pushing one then two fingers in and slowly scissoring him open.

You pull your fingers out when his hole has relaxed enough to let you easily slide your fingers in and out, and he's produced enough slick to completely drench your hand. You try to look at him as you press your cock against his fluttering hole, but the sight of his milky eyes almost makes you soft on the spot so you screw your eyes closed and slowly slide in.

Despite how cold and wet his cunt is, you haven't felt anyone's touch, even your own, since he got infected, and a part of you feels disgusted at how a bit of pleasure traces up your spine. He continues to hiss and click as you bottom out, his hips bucking wildly you have to press them down. You set a slower pace than you're used to, keeping your thrusts even and consistent, afraid to tear anything but your fear is seemingly misplaced. He's so much wetter than he'd ever get before he got infected, slick wetly squelching as you bottom out over and over again, clicks and snarls accompanying every move you make.

You're ashamed to say you don't last long. Fuck, is he tight you've been ignoring your body for so long that when you accidentally brush against the stalk growing from his clit and his cunt suddenly tightens up like a vice you cum on the spot, your hips doing little minute twitches as you empty so much of your cum in his cunt that your balls hurt. You pull out just as slowly, both of your mixed fluids leaking out and almost getting caught by the soft mushrooms framing his hole.

You muster up the courage to look him in the eyes, and your heart breaks when his lifeless eyes blindly stare back at you.

You feel like a fool when the first time doesn't work, he's still just a body pupated by a fungus. And you feel like an even bigger fool when you agree to do this a second time.

But the third time. . .

You don't know if it's just wishful thinking but he seems more. . . alert. His head always follows you when you approach him but now his milky eyes almost seem to be looking at your face instead of staring straight through you. He's strangely still on the chair, teeth gnawing on the ball gag but he doesn't try to get out of the restraints.

He doesn't screech when you gently caress the soft outer mushroom caps framing his cunt, instead his chest vibrates with more deep clicks. Nor does he start to wildly writhe on the chair when you slowly sink a finger into his cunt, finding it's already wet with slick. If anything he almost seems to chase(more like stumble) after the sensation, his hips doing small little movements to push your finger deeper into him.

Emboldened by childish hope you do something you hadn't before and reach with your other hand to slowly trace the long stalk of the clitshroom (not a term you coined), before rubbing the base of the cap like you would your own cock.

You nearly jump out of your skin when the gentle pressure of your fingers makes him buck into your hands and let out an ear-piercing screech that the gag has trouble muffling. You pull your hands away and that worsens the problem, the shrieking turning into literal chest rumbling snarls as Simon starts to struggle against the bindings.

Panic rushing down your system you put your hands were they were, gently stroking the 2 inch long mushroom growing from his clit. His hips buck up to chase after your hand, the snarls reverting back into shrieks, but as you stroke him longer they gradually die down to low pitched clicks and whistles. You're stumped; the clicks sound a lot like a cat's puff, his hole fluttering and clenching around your fingers as you slowly push them inside.

He's warmer now, not quite how he was before, but not cold as a corpse either. You know that you've gone completely mad by the fact he starts to gyrate his hips— grinding down just as you get knuckles deep so your fingers can brush against the sensitive spots inside him — makes your mind think that it's a bit of your Simon coming back.

You shake your head and pull your hands away, taking hold of his trembling thighs. You're greeted with another deep snarl but he quiets down immediately when you start to slowly push into him. He feels even tighter now, and you watch how his head falls back on the headrest, a long series of low clicks and whistles squirming past the gag.

His hips move to meet your slow thrusts, tight warm walls squeezing down every time you attempt to pull out just like he used to do. And that thought has your body increasing the pace automatically, your balls slapping against his ass, every sharp thrust hitting something spongy inside him and drawing out a sharp click, the rough pace leaving you panting.

Mindlessly you look up, too caught up in the moment remembering how Simon loved eye contact to remember the situation you're in.

He's looking straight at you.

You halt mid thrust, the low hiss he lets out falling on deaf ears as you tilt your head to the side. You're not insane, his eyes follow you. They're still milky, but they don't look through you. He's looking at you.

Another rough clicking sound leaves him and he thrusts his hips down against yours with enough strength to bruise, almost impatient. Despite how stupid it is you reach out and quickly unbuckle the gag with trembling fingers. "Si?" You say, unable to hide the hope in your voice. "Are you there?" You lean over him, looking hopefully into his eyes. "Do you remember me?"

His jaw moves like he's munching on a survivor, but all that leaves his mouth are more clicks and rough grunts.

Fuck. You are a fool.

A sob tears through your chest before you can stop it, ducking your head down to lay it on his chest. You're unable to keep the fresh tears from falling on him, watering the damned mushrooms that had taken him from you. You can't stop the sobs from coming, your back bowed and shoulders shaking as you cry just as much as the day you first lost him.

His chest vibrates with another long series of clicks and whistles, just pouring salt on the gaping would in your chest.

Your name rights through the room.

It's scratchy, rough, almost incomprehensible to your ears, but it's your name.

You look up so quickly you almost snap his neck. "Simon?" You whisper, staying in him even as you feel yourself soften. "Are you in there?" You slowly reach out to hold his face, careful not to cut your hands on the sharp mushroom caps along his cheeks.

He looks at you back, jaw moving still, but he doesn't try to bite the flesh of your palms despite your hands being right there. "Ckckck-" He clicks, pupils going from pinpricks to blown out, "Ckckrkck- Mo- ckck-ve." He manages, a thrust of his hips accompanying the order.

Your heart leaps to your throat and you can do nothing but follow it, sliding one hand down to dig your nails into his thigh, looming over him as you pull out until only the head is inside and them slam into him that there's an audible clap of skin on skin as you bottom out. A half shriek half click half "Yes!" escapes him as he throws his head back, slack jawed.

A whole range of noises escapes him as you hammer into him with all you've got, one hand remaining always on his face. You can feel him getting hotter the longer you pound into him, body shaking as each thrust nails his sensitive spot. He gets progressively tighter and tighter as you fuck into him, and you let go of his thigh to carefully strike along the long shaft of the clitshroom.

He shrieks at the top of his lungs and his cunt clenches down on you like a vice, fluttering around you and gripping your cock like it doesn't want you to pull out. It pulls you into an orgasm,

"Simon?" You whisper, staying in him even as you feel yourself soften. He's too silent compared to how vocal he had been a few moments ago. "Are you in there?"

His head rolls a bit, peering at you through through his lashes, tongue moving heavily in his mouth and lips twitching up into a soft of barely-there grin. "Cckck- l- ckckc- love- ckrk-you -ckkckrkckck-"

Taglist: @dead-end-stuff

[twilightmalachite]

Cruise - Tsumugi’s Surprise 1

Author: Akira

Characters: Natsume, Sora, Tsumugi

Translator: Mika Enstars

Proofers: rui

"Senpai isn’t Bigfoot, Shisho~! He’s not some cryptid that’ll run off with you, you know~?"

Season: Summer

Location: Resting Room

⚠️ This chapter is not yet JP Proofread!

Sora: HaHa! There’s a new selection of snacks in the resting room!

Umm, Sora wonders how he’ll pick…

Hm? They have those mushroom and bamboo shoot-shaped chocolates now~?

There’s been a never-ending battle over which of the two addictive snacks is yummier![1] Sora wants to try and put in his verdict too!

*chomp chomp* …♪

Hmm~… The mushrooms taste mostly like milky and sweet chocolate~? Maybe ’cuz of the salty crackers…

Meanwhile the bamboo shoots have a strong chocolatey taste, like a sweet and buttery cookie!

Hmmm… Mushrooms or bamboo shoots… They’re both so good, it’s hard to say which is better~?

This is hard~… Sora doesn’t know how to choose. Hmm…

Natsume: So~ra. ♪

Sora: Eeek!?

Natsume: WhooPS, sorry if I startled yOU. Putting the drink to your cheek might’ve been too muCH.

Sora: Shisho~! It surprised Sora when his cheek suddenly got so cold!

Natsume: FuFU, sorRY. This drink is for yOU, Sora. It’s still hot outsiDE, so it’s important for you to stay hydratED.

Sora: HiHi~, thank you very much!

Hmm? Shisho~, is there something worrying you? Shisho~’s color is kinda... wobbly and whirly?

Natsume: HmM…? You’re perceptive as evER, Sora, seeing through me so quickLY.

I was tentative to call out to yOU, since you looked to be so troublED. In the eND, my approach was to jokingly prod you with my driNK. What had you ruminating so seriousLY?

Sora: HuHu~, sorry for the worry. Sora was debating which chocolate was yummier, the mushrooms or the bamboo shoots~!

Natsume: HuH!? You were behaving so gravely over something like thAT?

…AhEM. WeLL, that’s okAY. It’s something important to Sora, rigHT?

Sora: Which does Shisho~ like more? Sora is having trouble deciding which one is better, y’see~…

Natsume: HmM… I don’t mind either way as long as I can eat it, realLY.

But let’s sEE… If I had to choose, it’d be this oNE. It’s crackers are lightER, and I like that I can eat them while playing games without getting my hands covered in floUR.

Sora: …! Sora gets it~! It being easy to eat while playing games is very important indeed! Shisho~ is so smart, Sora has learned a lot!

Natsume: Then I’m glad—Oh? I’m getting a call through HoldHanDS…

AhH. Seem’s it’s just a messaGE, not a phone caLL.

Sora: HeHe~, Sora got one too. Looks like it’s from Senpai~?

Natsume: What on earth could this bE? How dare that four-eyed mophead interrupt my pleasant time with Sora!

Must I get in contact and send in some paranormal investigator? Tell him to study the phenomena of ES’ inhabitation of talking disheveled moPS?

Sora: Senpai isn’t Bigfoot, Shisho~! He’s not some cryptid that’ll run off with you, you know~?

Hmm? Shisho~, Senpai has an important announcement and wants us to come over to the agency office~.

Natsume: An important announcemeNT…? WhAT…?

ActualLY, weren’t you with Senpai yesterdAY? Do you know anything of iT?

Sora: Hm~… Not particularly~?

Oh, now that Sora thinks of it, Senpai did mention something good was going to happen in the near future~? But that it was a secret for now. Senpai looked super happy about it~!

Natsume: …HaH? That cheekiness of his really pisses me oFF.

Well, whatevER. In any caSE, we’ll get to the bottom of all this once we get theRE. I’m not really feeling iT, but let’s head over to the agency to hear this announcement of hIS, shall wE?

Location: NewDi Office

Sora: HaHa~! Hello, Senpai!

Tsumugi: Yes, hello there. I apologize for calling you two here out of the blue.

Natsume: So what the hell is this aboUT? What’s with you summoning Sora and I out here with a meager message like thAT? ExplaIN, briefLY.

Tsumugi: Well… I considered putting all the details in the message, but I thought it’d be nice to set up a little surprise for you two.

Though, I did say it was a big announcement, so it’s not all that astonishing, is it~? Ahaha.

But I really do think you two will like this. ♪

Natsume: 《Get on with it, you four-eyed mophead, and then obliterate to smithereens.》

Tsumugi: Oh, sounds like a Sci-Fi novel! Please don’t make me play the role of an android that self-destructs right after divulging important information!

—Ahem. Now then, let’s get started…

Natsume-san, Sora-kun, you both have been so busy with work lately you haven’t had a chance to enjoy the summertime, right?

Sora: HiHi~, it’s true, Sora did a lot of work this summer! There wasn’t much time for play.

Natsume: What the hell are you getting aT?

Tsumugi: That’s why Switch will be going on a vacation to a southern island!

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The two sweets mentioned here are the two chocolates “Kinoko no Yama” and “Takenoko no Sato”. They’re fairly popular and you most likely have seen them somewhere before. They’ve had a little rivalry ever since they came out in 1970, dubbed the “Kino-Take Battle”. A couple years ago, the manufacturer even held an official poll to determine the superior sweet.

[prapasara]

Fried Dandelion Flowers

 Fried Dandelion Flowers

With his thinning hair, slightly paunchy figure and unassuming manner, my 10th grade biology teacher wasn’t the kind of guy to win a teacher-of-the year contest. But to a 16-year-old boy he held a certain fascination. Dr. Bob showed us how to smell (or not smell) the contents of an unmarked bottle: fanning his fingers over the open cap and standing back comically so as not to inhale directly any unknown contents. And he had a weird habit of addressing us all by our first and last names, run together as one word. What clinched it for me, however, was the edible wild plant project he assigned to me that spring.

‘DonHogeland,’ he said one afternoon as he was hanging up his lab coat. ‘I’d love to give you an ‘A’, but you’re a good two percentage points away. For that, I’ll have to think up something big.’ 

The next day, Dr. Bob dumped a package of half-sheet newsletters on my desk.

Thus began my weekly demonstrations on the uses of edible wild plants. The newsletters came from Dr. Bob’s hometown in Maine, so not all the plants described were available in Eastern Pennsylvania. But I persevered. One week we had a salad made with wild mustard greens, another the tender fiddleheads of some local ferns sautéed in butter. My one near-failure was a tea made with last year’s sumac flowers, which gave off the flavor of old socks and floor sweepings. In response, there were many rumblings of dissatisfaction around the room.  At the very last second one kid leapt to his feet raving about it (thanks, DaveKustin!) and so I got credit in the end. Dr. Bob stood to one side mildly grinning.

My greatest success was with Fried Dandelions. Just the flower heads – dipped in batter, fried and sprinkled with powdered sugar. They had a flavor somewhere between artichoke and arugula, and for novelty factor were a real hit. Before I knew it, I was making a second and then a third batch as news spread to other classes on the hall.

I don’t remember whether I bagged my ‘A’ or not. What I do know is those brochures sparked an interest in my seeing the natural world as an outdoor grocery store that I hold to this day. Now, when I pluck a wild northwest mushroom from the woods, I see in my mind’s eye Dr. Bob’s understated grin of approval, and it takes me right back. 

As for dandelions? You can curse their appearance, or seize the moment to enjoy these first-of-the-season beauties. And what better way to get back at them for their peskiness? Go on; fry them up and eat them! Here’s my recipe.  

Fried Dandelion Flowers

🌼 Makes 36 fritters

🌼 3 dozen medium-sized dandelion flowers (see note)

🌼 ½ cup all-purpose flour

🌼 1 teaspoon baking powder

🌼 ¼ teaspoon salt

🌼 2 teaspoons of sugar

🌼 4 Tablespoons of water

🌼 5 Tablespoons of milk

🌼 ½ cup canola oil for frying

🌼 1-2 teaspoons of powdered sugar to finish

Dandelion note: The best dandelions for this are young, tender and medium-sized (about 1” across). Pick them from a lawn or bank that you know has not been sprayed with weed killer. They’re at their freshest in the late morning when they first open to the sun. Oh, and they’re packed with vitamins, too!

Make the batter: In a shallow mixing bowl, mix the flour, baking powder, salt and sugar together well with a fork. Now gradually stir in the water and milk to create a smooth batter. Work out the lumps and scrape the sides as necessary.

Prepare the dandelions: Trim the milky stems right to the base of the flower, leaving the green bud intact. From this point on, you’ll want to avoid licking your fingers both for hygiene reasons and because the taste of the raw milk is mighty bitter! Don’t say I didn’t warn you…

Heat the oil: Pour the canola oil into an 8” frying pan and heat it slowly over medium heat. The oil will be ready when a test dollop of batter cooks to medium brown on the bottom in 30 seconds. Arrange a plate with two layers of paper towel beside the pan and have a spatula and a pair of tongs handy.

Make the fritters: Dip 6 dandelions at a time yellow-side down into the batter, using the green knobs as handles. Quickly fork a little of the batter onto the green bits, but don’t try to coat the backs entirely.

Put the 6 battered flowers face down into the hot oil so that they keep their flower shapes and fry for 30 seconds until medium brown. Now flip them over, pushing the tops gently with the spatula as the green sides cook, and fry for a further 30 seconds.

Using the tongs, remove the fritters to the paper towel to cool. Repeat the process until all the flowers are fried.

To finish: Sprinkle with powdered sugar and serve warm.

And as you bite in, I want to ask you the same question I asked my 10th grade friends on that day so many years ago: Can you believe that anything so weed-like as a dandelion can taste so good? Yum!

CR   ::   http://www.woodfiredkitchen.com/?p=2102

[40sandfabulousaf]

大家好! Pa introduced me to Song Yue, a restaurant from Taiwan island which serves homestyle cuisine. There were many dishes I wanted to try but we limited ourselves to just 2. We'll definitely come back because the food was scrumptious! Pa ordered braised pork ribs with radish; I picked another signature dish: tofu, shrimp and crab meat in pumpkin sauce. To go with the dishes, we had a bowl of rice each. The tofu arrived first and we tucked in. One word: WOW! The flavourful pumpkin sauce resembled geng, a thick soup. We finished all of it, including every drop of the sauce. The ribs were even better. They were fall-off-the-bone tender and very well-marinated. Large radish chunks were soft and soaked up the savoury gravy. Sublime!

The coffee shop near Grace's and Douglas' former residence underwent major renovation. Finally, after many months, I decided to check it out. Besides being brightly lit, there were new stalls selling various dishes, including zha jiang mian (pork noodles in bean sauce). I indulged my craving and ordered the noodles, as welI as sheng jian bao (fried pork buns) to try. I took my first mouthful after tossing the mian and coating them evenly with sauce. YUM! The sauce was fragrant, the meat was tasty and the julienned vegetables added crunch. I also liked the accompanying milky broth which was pretty flavourful. The sheng jian bao was nice but, to me, xiao long bao (soup dumplings) taste much better.

I revisited the stall which serves zha jiang mian on pretty plates. This time, I tried fan qie ji dan mian (tomato egg noodles). How gorgeous the vibrant colours are! Their version is served dry instead of soup, and came with bak choy as well as wood ear mushrooms. Those noodles were once again delightfully QQ and the eggy sauce, whilst enough to coat every strand, wasn't too salty. For $3.80, this dish was not only yummy and nutritionally balanced, it was also filling. I wasn't even hungry at dinnertime! I'll gladly return for this, the zha jiang mian and to try their other menu items. They even have a little corner serving ma la dishes!

Work has been stressful this week and, with a colleague going on long leave for a fortnight soon, the next 2 weeks will also be hectic. In spite of the frenetic pace, I was able to squeeze out short bursts of time for socialising. For this, I'm grateful. It doesn't feel right to whine since Palestinians in Gaza fear for their lives daily and it seems like not a day goes by without several of them massacred during the course of this genocidal war. Over 36,000 have died and over 80,000 injured to date. I'll continue praying for a permanent ceasefire and for parties arming Israel to be severely punished. I'll also pray that the punishment grows more severe the longer they continue to supply weapons.

Previously, the US stated clearly that any attack on Rafah would be crossing their red line. Well, Israel has crossed it, only for the US to shift the goal posts. Those 'red lines' seem as credible as Biden claiming he saw beheaded Israeli babies during the 7 October attack on Israel (which have since been debunked). Can you blame me - or any other party - for being sceptical of what Biden's administration and mainstream media say? News reporting is supposed to be factual and neutral but I don't find this practised by some western mainstream media platforms nowadays. I don't trust what they say. 下次见!

[skincare-surveyor]

Thayers Cucumber Alcohol-Free Witch Hazel Facial Toner

Brand: Thayers

Product Type: Toner

Price: $3.99 / $10.95 USD

Size: 3.0 / 12.0 fl oz

✔️Vegan  ✔️Clean Ingredients  ✔️Cruelty Free  

Star Ingredients:

Non-distilled Witch Hazel: Alcohol-free formula. Great for blemishes, texture, and tone problems.

Aloe Vera: Hydrates and soothes.

Cucumber Extract: Soothes. Adds moisture. Helps with redness and puffiness.

Texture: Watery

Feel: Clean

A gentle toner that doesn't dry skin out.

Scent: 🌸🌸🌸🌸

Smells strongly of fake cucumber. I don't mean cucumber extract. I mean, like, that cheap cucumber body spray smell. This product has added fragrance and it's strong.

Results: Not a fan. My go-to witch hazel is T.N. Dickinson's, which I'm sure must make some of the beauty fanatics nuts. It has a small amount of naturally-occurring alcohol in it from the distillation process, which is how most witch hazel is made. Therefore, it has first aid properties that this alcohol-free witch hazel from Thayers just doesn't. What do I mean by 'first aid properties?' I mean, if you have acne, it can help with clearing and preventing blemishes. It can also be used as a minor wound cleanser in place of, for example, isopropyl alcohol, hydrogen peroxide, or something like Bactine. It can also kill yeast. I wouldn't recommend using it directly on more delicate parts, but for something like under the breasts, the belly button, or other 'surface' areas, it works great.

I decided to try Thayers alcohol-free witch hazel because I wanted something specifically beauty-oriented and maybe a little gentler. Since starting medication, my skin has changed, and become less oily and less acne-prone. Daily use of witch hazel was suddenly drying my skin out, which has never happened before. When perusing Thayers' offerings, the Cucumber Witch Hazel Toner seemed like a good idea. Hopefully, not as strong a scent as rose, but with similar benefits. I'll be honest, you guys. This stuff gave me headaches because there's so much added fragrance. And I didn't find that it did anything for my skin in terms of reducing redness.

Frankly, I'd rather have the versatility of a standard witch hazel and have to skip a few days between uses.

Comps: Thayers has many other toners available on the market, if you wanted to stay with them. There's an unscented witch hazel, several other scented varieties, and even a newer Milky Toner with Snow Mushroom and Hyaluronic Acid for extra hydration. Those are all going to run around the same price.

Humphrey's is another beauty-centric brand of witch hazel. They are organic, sustainable, vegan, and cruelty free. They've got lines both with and without alcohol in them. They offer unscented and scented witch hazels in fragrances like cucumber, rose, lavender, and grapefruit. Small bottles (3.3 fl oz) cost approximately 5 USD. Large bottles (8.0 fl oz) are about 12 USD.

Burt's Bees has their own witch hazel toners. One is for sensitive skin and contains aloe. The other has rose in it. These are approximately 10 USD for a 12 fl oz bottle.

And finally, there's my brand of choice, Dickinson's. T.N. Dickinson's has been around for years. It's a quality product and is about 8 USD for a 16 fl oz bottle. Recently, Dickinson's has also released a beauty-centric line of products, simply called Dickinson's. Whereas T.N. Dickinson's and their other products, such as pads and wipes, are found near the first aid supplies, Dickinson's is found in the beauty aisles and features the original fragrance-free formula, as well as a variety with rose. These are between 6 and 8 USD. A great deal, if I say so myself.

And, of course, if you find any generics - for example, Walgreens Beauty has a big bottle of witch hazel toner that's basically a generic T.N. Dickinson's - these are all totally valid purchases. The cool thing about witch hazel is that you don't have to spend a lot of money to get a product with great benefits.

[guyfierai]

Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives at The Little A’Le’Inn

Hey there, folks! We're here at the Little A’Le’Inn, where the flavors are out of this world! We're diving deep into the alien culinary scene, uncovering some mind-blowing dishes. Get ready for a close encounter of the flavor kind! (Scene: The iconic red Camaro pulls up in the desert near Area 51. Guy Fieri steps out, sporting his signature sunglasses and flame shirt.) Guy Fieri: "Hey there, folks! We're here at the Little A’Le’Inn, where the flavors are out of this world! We're diving deep into the alien culinary scene, uncovering some mind-blowing dishes. Get ready for a close encounter of the flavor kind!" (Enter Stella, the owner of the Little A’Le’Inn, wearing a shimmering UFO hat and a big smile.) Stella: "Welcome to the Little A’Le’Inn, Guy! We've got extraterrestrial delights waiting for you. Let's start with the Cosmic Calamari Fingers. These crispy, golden calamari are seasoned with a blend of intergalactic spices and served with a tangy Nebula Dip. It's an explosion of flavor that'll leave you seeing stars! :star:" (Guy takes a bite, his eyes widen in delight.) Guy Fieri: "Stella, these calamari fingers are out of bounds! The flavors are taking me on a flavor trip around the Milky Way! :rocket: What else you got for us?" (Stella points to a plate of shimmering green sliders.) Stella: "These are our Alien Sliders, Guy. They're made with a blend of interplanetary meats and topped with sautéed Martian mushrooms, gooey Moon cheese, and a secret sauce that's truly out of this world. One bite and you'll be transported to another galaxy! :hamburger:" (Guy takes a big bite of the slider, juice dripping down his chin.) Guy Fieri: "Stella, these sliders are absolutely wild! Each bite is like taking a bite out of the cosmos! You've truly nailed the flavor fusion here." (Stella grins proudly.) Stella: "Glad you're enjoying it, Guy! Now, let me introduce you to our Martian Mac 'n' Cheese. It's a creamy blend of Martian cheeses, topped with crispy asteroid bacon and garnished with moon dust. It's comfort food from another planet!" (Guy takes a cheesy, gooey forkful.) Guy Fieri: "Stella, this mac 'n' cheese is funkalicious! The blend of cheeses is out of this world, and that crispy asteroid bacon takes it to another level. I could eat this every day, no questions asked! :mac_and_cheese:" (Stella's eyes light up.) Stella: "Guy, for dessert, we've got the Lunar Lava Cake. It's a rich chocolate cake with an ooey-gooey green alien center, topped with a scoop of Intergalactic Ice Cream. It's a sweet treat that's truly unforgettable." (Guy dives into the lava cake, the green filling oozing out.) Guy Fieri: "Stella, this Lunar Lava Cake is bomb-dot-com tasty! That green alien center is like a flavor explosion in every bite. Combine that with the creamy Intergalactic Ice Cream, and you've got yourself a dessert that's seriously out of bounds! :moon_cake:" (Scene fades out as Guy continues devouring the otherworldly delicacies at the Little A’Le’Inn, leaving viewers with cravings that are truly out of this world!) Guy Fieri: "Thanks for joining me on this cosmic food adventure! Remember, peace :peace_symbol:, love :heart:, and taco :taco: grease! Keep exploring the flavors of the universe, and I'll catch you on the flip side!" (Scene fades to black as Guy takes another bite, his excitement radiating. The adventure at the Little A’Le’Inn is just the beginning of the intergalactic flavor journey! :rocket: :guyfieri:)

[bigbowserpharma]

Big Bowser Log: Inevitable Victory:

Every now and then you need to make deals. You can’t do it all on your own. You need other people around you to succeed. Use them. Take advantage of the opportunities they provide. And so I began accepting deals. I started with small things. Cereal brands, toys, drinks. It was until I signed the racing sponsorship that everything took off. At first it was simple. They can use my infrastructure. I act as a temporary host for their competitions. It was never fun having those nuisances frolic about own my property but eventually it became intriguing. I continued to add flares every season. Only things I knew about. Stones disguised. The fall of the Thwomp became something to fear. Even my greatest enemy, that buffoon of an ape, who betrayed me and left me for dead could not weather the weight of my ingenious geological life forms. I laughed and cackled as race after race I left the residents of the mushroom kingdom shattered and broken. But the audience, those stupid toads and koopas ate it up. I knew I had to step it up and so I made on offer. Put me in. Let me show them what I can do. Let them witness my skill, my greatness, my speed, my inevitable victory. And they said yes. How could they not. The first and second race were nothing for me. First place, those fools lingered and struggled leagues behind me. It was a cake walk. Not that I’m much of a fan of cake, these just better sweets out there, but I digress. The third race is when things got interesting. Moo Moo Meadows. Those accursed beasts of burden should have stayed in their lane. They didn’t know to fear the King. I got distracted, overcome by rage, and I lost sight. Those milky sacs of flesh needed to be taught a lesson. And in my fury I let my goal slip from my grasp, falling between my claws. I could only stare in abject horror as the blue shell lingered above me. My most powerful creation. The fate changer. And change my fate it did. It crushed me. Shattered fortitude, leaving me a husk of a shell. I scraped out alive barely, 3rd place would have to do. Podium is mandatory, but those devils surpassed me. The captain and his archeologist. The two who took the title of their ancestry in blatant arrogance. In second place Captain Toad. And in first the pink rascal of a woman herself, Toadette. The one who turned my inventions against me. And so I knew in the final race. I had to alter the course of their lives forever. I began my work. Thankfully the final race was on my home turf. My monolith. My Castle. I had something waiting for a while now. Deep beneath my fortress. A beast. The race went as I had planned. I waited. Lingering in my podium position, 3rd place. I let them reach the end. As they neared the finish line I watched as the ground broke open. The behemoth of a beast, a scaled winged tyrant. My masterpiece, my dragon, my dear beloved Draggadon. I let him take her, whisk her away. And within their claws, she screamed as they carried her away. And of course now Captain Toad would follow as he always does. Always did. Because he stayed. He drove for the finish line. But of course I was prepared. My little blue friend. I watched that shell detonate. Sending his body flying through the air. Soaring into oblivion. And then I finished the race. 1st place. A winner. The best. As I always am. And always will be. The champion.

[thetfchangingroom]

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Garrett wasn’t much for superstition, and growing up in a white middle class superb, he knew next to nothing about luchadors or the colorful history of Mexican wrestling.

Needless to say, when he stumbled across the máscara of legendary luchador “El Fantasma” buried at the bottom of a box in an old thrift store near campus, he saw nothing more than a fun costume idea for the masquerade frat party he was to attend that night.

“That mask is cursed!” warned the mousy old Mexican lady behind the counter, “El Fantasma never met an opponent he couldn’t defeat—in life and in death. It is said that he who wears his mask will be possessed by the spirit of El Fantasma, and take his place as the strongest luchador in the world!”

What a crock of shit, Garrett thought to himself as he sat on the edge of his bed, gazing down at his new mask. The lady hadn’t even charged him for it, like she just wanted the damn thing off her hands. “Her loss,” Garrett said, running his fingers across the brilliant blue fabric.

In an act of foolish defiance, the pasty college frat boy slipped the máscara over his head. “See?” he said to his reflection in the mirror across the room, “there’s no such thing as curses.”

But Garrett spoke too soon. Because seconds later, his body began to go through drastic changes. His shoulders shot out in either direction as his frame packed on 100 pounds of muscle and fat. His belly swelled into a thick gut, his stubby mushroom cock into a girthy uncut beast, and his skin went from milky white to coffee brown.

“¿Qué me está pasando?” Garrett heard an unfamiliar voice cry out from under the mask. He could say goodbye to English for the foreseeable future… or his frat party… or entire life for that matter.

Because the old lady’s warning had come true: the spirit of El Fantasma had found a new vessel. Garrett could only watch in horror as he transformed mind, body and soul into the greatest luchador to have ever walked the earth.

Thanks to that dumb gringo, he was walking the earth once more. And it was time to reclaim his title…

Click the link and follow my Instagram for more short transformation captions!

[thelionbyname]

Hermit Island (part 4)

The scouts came back to a surprisingly organised situation; everyone had split into groups and were doing different things of importance. One group was just on the outskirts of the forest, collecting firewood, a few people were making tools from anything they could find, and some heavy lifters like Xisuma were gathering larger sticks and logs that they could use to build a shelter.

From that last group, Keralis called out to False and Cleo, asking if they could help. They walked over to him, as did Ren, while Cub and Joe joined the firewood collectors.

“Hi Keralis, what can we do?” Cleo asked.

“You could start building some shelters with the materials we’ve collected so far. You might need Grian’s help to figure out a sturdy build.”

“On it. Where is he?”

Keralis gestured at the trees on the other side of the beach. “I think he’s out collecting food with some other people. They shouldn’t be far, you’ll probably see them as soon as you get to the edge of the woods.”

The three of them left Keralis to gather more wood and headed over to the trees Keralis had indicated. When they passed the first row of trunks, they heard someone calling out.

“Don’t drop them near us, okay? Do you know how many people die being hit in the head by a coconut?”

The voice came from a small figure down on the ground. Stress was talking to someone high up in a tree, and when False, Cleo and Ren followed her gaze, they saw Grian, hanging upside-down from the highest branches of a coconut tree. He grinned as he caught sight of them. Twisting flexibly to his left, he grabbed a ripe-looking coconut and tossed it down, two meters from where Stress stood. It landed in a bed of moss with a dull thud.

“Hey Grian, we need your help building huts! Could you get down from there?” False asked.

“Sure, just a sec.” Grian threw four more coconuts down in quick succession and then swung down, more elegantly than any of them would have expected from him, and slid down the trunk and back to the ground.

He wiped the sweat off his forehead with the sleeve of his sweater, which was way too warm to be worn in the tropics, but he didn’t care.

“Will you be okay without me, Stress?” Grian asked her, just in case.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be fine,” Stress assured him. And so Grian and the others left her alone with the coconuts.

At that moment the three people who had been gathering food deeper into the forest came back to her. Impulse had filled the cloth of his shirt with berries, Etho was carrying a collection of leaves and what looked like bark, and Iskall had his arms full of some sort of mushroom. They all proudly presented their finds to Stress, who was definitely the plant expert among them. She examined each of their findings carefully.

Taking one of Impulse’s berries between her thumb and index finger, she carefully sniffed it.

“How many different bushes did you get these from?” She asked him.

“Only two, the red ones and the blue ones are two different types, but I didn’t mix in anything that looked similar.”

“Good. Did the bush with the red ones have any spikes or small, pointy hairs?”

“Uh… yeah, I think it had thorns,” Impulse said hesitantly.

“The red ones are poisonous,” Stress firmly decided.

“How do you know?” Etho asked her.

“Well, it’s always better to assume everything is, anyway, but these berries smell bitter, and since Impulse said their bush had spikes, I’m pretty sure of it.” To Impulse, she said, “Throw out the red ones.”

“What about the blue ones?”

“Did they have any thorns?”

“No.”

“Did they grow in pods or clusters?”

“…No.”

“Any odd-coloured sap like a milky white?”

“I didn’t know we had to check the sap…”

Iskall cut in there, saying, “I did! Its sap was transparent.”

Stress smiled at him. “Thanks Iskall.”

He blushed.

Stress took one of the blue berries and sniffed it, smiled, and crushed it against her arm. “Now we see if I get a rash in the next 5 minutes.”

She moved over to Etho and picked up a piece of his bark.

“Cinnamon,” he said happily.

Stress inhaled the scent with closed eyes, enjoying the familiar smell. She moved on to some of the leaves he’d gathered.

“Mint, basil, rosemary, and aloe vera! Nice collection Etho!”

Etho smiled modestly as Stress walked over to Iskall.

Nervously, Iskall said, “I feel like I’m in an exam here…”

Stress giggled and answered, “I’m not examining you, I’m examining your find.”

Iskall let out a mock sigh of relief.

Unfortunately for him, she immediately said, “No! These are autumn skullcaps, or Galerina Marginata, some of the most poisonous mushrooms in the world!”

Horrified, Iskall dropped them immediately.

“It’s okay, you’re fine. They aren’t poisonous to the touch,” Stress assured him. She glanced at her arm, where a faint pigmentation was left from the berry juice, but no signs of irritation. “It looks like these berries are okay to eat, but we should still be careful. No more than two berries every five minutes. It’s not much, but we don’t want to risk any possible toxins gathering in your stomach. If we manage to eat them for two days without anyone getting sick, we can slowly increase the portion sizes.”

Iskall didn’t hear a word she said. He just stared at her lips, moving fast as they always did when she was talking about something she knew a lot about. He watched the breeze blow her dark hair into her eyes, and at that point she caught his gaze.

“What?” She asked in her sweet British accent.

Flustered, Iskall didn’t reply.

Impulse and Etho grinned at each other knowingly.

In the meantime, Grian was giving explicit instructions to the people building the huts, very professionally ensuring that all the structures were as sturdy, shielding, -from water, sun and intruding eyes- and generally perfect as possible.

“Grian!” Scar said in his giggly voice as he walked up to the architect.

“Hey Scar! What have you been up to? I thought you would be with the gathering group, what with your knowledge of nature,” Grian remarked.

“Oh, no, I was exploring! Look, I found mistletoe!” He proudly held up a thin branch with small white berries.

Nervously, Grian jumped back. “Uh, Scar? What are you-”

“Oh! Nonono!” Scar giggled when he realised what Grian must be thinking. “I just wanted to show you!”

Grian laughed too. “You should hang it up in one of the entrances to the huts, see what happens.”

The first shelter was almost done already, and Scar happily hung the branch right in the middle of the entrance, where there was no way around it.

“By the way, Scar, are you aware that your last words could have been ‘my nachos are everywhere’?” Grian laughed.

Scar paused, and then burst into even louder laughter. He collapsed into the sand, rolling around with pure joy. He looked up at Grian, who just stood there, watching him, with a half-smile playing around his lips. Scar’s big puppy dog eyes twinkled and the next second he was wrestling Grian onto the sand with him.

“Aah! Scar!” Grian yelled.

Scar jumped up and bolted away as Grian chased him, sand flying off their clothes, out of their hair and billowing around their feet.

[william-scott77]

Mexican Cubensis Mushrooms 1 ounceMagic Mushrooms have always been around for a long time. Over 2000 years ago they were been used by the Aztecs. These magic mushrooms offer users a dense experience, making them great for newbies. The effects obtained from Mexican Cubensis include happiness and euphoria that will not only take over your body but also your mind. Except for a boost of creativity which will flow throughout your mind giving you good psychedelic imaginations. However, you will be getting visuals and also hallucinations, both with opened and closed eyes. lastly shapes colors variations,  and also fractals and forms.

[eldritchamy]

I’m gonna be playing my first D&D campaign soon!

It’s gonna be my first roleplay experience, and it’s gonna be a wild one.  We’re playing in the Ravnica campaign setting (which I knew nothing about, but it’s like an endless city plane from the Magic The Gathering universe, sort of like D&D on Coruscant).

And let me tell y’all, I have come up with a really interesting character that I’m very happy with.

The premise: we’ve been recruited to a special organization called the Emerald Magistrates that act as arbiters to inter-guild conflict (Ravnica has 10 Guilds that are in a constant power struggle with each other; all have vital functions to the city, but all of them ultimately plan on dominating the others and ruling Ravnica). It’s our job to settle disputes, peacefully if possible, and try to keep the guild conflicts from causing mayhem.

The party:

A Selesnya Conclave (harmony with nature) Paladin named Gabby who became disillusioned with the injustices of the church and lost her faith. She now seeks to do good whenever she can, but follows no god.

An Izzet League (technomagic engineering) mad scientist Kalashtar Artificer (modified to use Charisma as her casting stat) named Mevraki, who is probably more mad than scientist, and works for a Warforged named Adam Salvage

An Aasimar Cult of Rakdos (murderfuck devil clown orgy guild) Bard named Turala. She plays a keytar and the courier who delivered her Magistrates recruitment spent the whole time staring at her chest.

An absolute dumb as rocks klutzy Firbolg Ranger named Candle, who defies the standard array starting stats by having some kind of curse or permanent concussion that lowers her Intelligence and raises her Charisma. We’ve preemptively decided that she will be a cowgirl himbo and we all love her. She was sent on an impossible quest as a soft exile when she accidentally set a sacred tree on fire. She may have joined the anarchist druids (Gruul Clans) by accident instead of Selesnya.

My character, a Tiefling Sorcerer-turned-Warlock named Ash Rose

I’ll be playing a “Bloodline of Erinyes” Tiefling (which I homebrewed myself). Her mother was a Monadic Deva, whose brief relationship with a succubus (and subsequent questioning of the gods) abruptly ended with her being cast out of Elysium and falling to the sixth plane of hell and being burned into an Erinyes. She meets another Erinyes there who helps her carry and raise a little Tiefling baby before planeshifting them both to the Prime Material plane.

Ash grows up in the wilds with her mother, near a druid settlement but hiding from it.  As a child, Ash starts sneaking out to play with a winged tiefling from the village named Aria Vernus. They are each other’s first and oldest friends.

One day Ash’s mother doesn’t come back from a supply run to the city. The druids can’t or won’t help, and Ash and Aria, now teens, make a plan to go alone, and run away together.

They end up joining Selesnya because it’s the most logical place for them to end up, having grown up in the woods. Aria becomes a Moon druid. Ash starts to make a living as a leatherworker, building relationships with merchants and trading favors and information with them in the hope of learning what happened to her mother. Her special bloodline lets her conceal certain features to blend in (the way an Erinyes or a Succubus can make themselves appear to be an attractive mortal rather than a fiend; she can hide her horns, tail, and wings (which can be either angel or devil wings) as a bonus action, but she is not considered a true shapeshifter and can’t truly DISGUISE herself that way, only blend in among people who don’t recognize her face).

Ash also has some innate magical talents as a level 1 Psychic Soul Sorcerer (who thereafter will go Warlock, Pact of the Chain + Genie Patron). Her charismatic approach to gathering information catches the notice of a stranger who recruits her to House Dimir, the secretive spy guild that most of Ravnica either doesn’t know about or believes is merely a deranged conspiracy theory. She becomes an information broker for Dimir, and forms a close mentor relationship with her handler.

Ash and Aria make a comfortable little life together and inevitably end up VERY happily married.  Ash cashes in some favors to commission a well-crafted ring of brown metallic stone affixed with bits of green glass that look like moss, designed to look like the ring was druidcrafted.  But Aria proposes at nearly the same moment, with a ring of black, speckled opal that resembles something like the milky way or a nebula.  In Aria’s words, it’s because Ash in the moonlight is the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen.

They have a little home together where their two cats (one a blue-green glowing skeleton and the other a cat-shaped clump of animated moss) just had a littler of kittens that almost look normal, except they sprout mushrooms when they purr and leave a faint trail of spores as they bounce around the place.  This is not relevant for the campaign.  I just worked really hard on their backstory and I’m in love with how gay my OCs are.  

Aria may make appearances, but Ash will be my character for this campaign.

I’m very nervous, but also pretty excited.

We’re going to be a 4.5 out of 5 Charisma heavy party.  We’re not the heroes Ravnica needs, but none of us rolled less than a 25 on our Persuasion check so they damn sure think we’re the ones they need right now.  We’re just gonna be four chaos clowns and a hot topic warlock vs the world.

[thatboomerkid]

PORTALS

We open weird portals to the Underworld and pull the Damned out for cash [part 1]

Hellcrashers Fiction by Nonbinary Bones

I broke open the factory door with a crowbar and entered a decrepit manufacturing plant. The soot-covered facility went bankrupt years ago and still leaked chemical waste into the “Mighty Missisip’” several decades later.

For a brief moment, the only noises were the icy wind racing over the waterfront and the soft ticking sound of the van’s engine behind me. The side panel of the van slid open.

“Sweet baby Jesus, it’s colder than a witches’ tit in a brass bra out here!” Felix exclaimed.

I nodded my agreement as a mechanized lift lowered my co-worker’s wheelchair to the ground.

Jackie hopped from the passenger seat, her military boots crunching on the wooden timbers of the boardwalk.

Sections of the greasy promenade had rotted away, revealing the polluted harbor below. The rancid waters stank of dead fish and petroleum. A huge rickety crane loomed overhead, its base squatting in the water, rusting its way towards oblivion.

Jackie opened the back of the van, rooted around, then pulled a bulletproof vest on over her tank top. She held another vest out in her grimy hand. I took it with a grateful nod.

Vasquez put The Club on the steering wheel, a sunshield on the dash, and began inspecting his gear. He may have been an OCD prick, but he knew how to plan a job.

New Kid hovered nearby, hands in his pockets.

“Hey Bitchnugget, try doing something useful for a change!” Felix jibed.

We grabbed our camping gear and entered the factory. Light filtered in through broken windows from sodium streetlamps outside. The center of the room was illuminated, but darkness clung to the corners. Conveyor belts and walkways filled the cavernous space like a real-life version of Chutes and Ladders. The air reeked of grease and metal. Rusted machinery spoke of long years of disuse.

Felix accidentally rolled right through a pile of animal droppings and cried out in disgust at getting shit in the tire treads. His shouts echoed in the gloom.

I dropped a duffel to the floor and opened it up, revealing a cache of weapons. We divvied up the contents so each of us had gas masks and guns.

“Alright everyone, huddle up.” I said. Everyone gathered in a semi-circle. “Vasquez, give us the rundown.”

“Today is a standard snatch-and-grab. Our target is named Aurora Laura.” He held up a centerfold spread ripped from an adult magazine. The lewd pose didn’t leave much to the imagination. “Real name Laura Brown. Originally from Omaha.” He squinted at the glossy pages. “Measures 34B, Waist 25, Hips 26. Likes puppies and men who aren’t afraid to show their vulnerable side.”

The New Kid blushed, Jackie snorted, and Felix grinned.

“We have reliable intel that the client’s Dearly Departed is being held in a Domain known as Hotel California. Basically, it’s worse than the worst ‘No-Tell Motel’ you’ve ever imagined; word on the street says each Dweller gets their own room, so we’re searching door to door.” He sighed.

The rest of us groaned out loud. “The floor-plan tends to change on its own, so watch out for that. This isn’t Scooby-Doo: we do not split up under any circumstances.”

“If you see something valuable on the way out, grab it. And I’m talking something portable. Smaller than a breadbox. We don’t want another incident like last time.”

Vasquez looked pointedly at Felix before continuing.

“Garrett, you’ll pop the Cherry for us.”

I nodded in response.

“We go in, acquire the target, and get the fuck out of Dodge. Any questions?” Vasquez looked at each of us with an upraised eyebrow.

New Kid raised his hand like a schoolboy.

“Why am I not surprised?” Felix asked the ceiling.

“What’s a Cherry?”

“It’s a door, Kid. A gateway Down Below Where The Bad Men Go.”

“Oh, right.” he said, blushing.

“Okay then, let’s get to it.” I said.

Past wasp’s nests and sticky linoleum floors I found a door with an “Employees Only” sign on it. The door-frame sagged, dislocated from rotted walls heavy with mildew. The door had warped over time so even though it was unlocked I almost couldn’t get it to budge. The factory door bore battle scars and boot prints from a hard fight with someone who lacked a crowbar. Someone like me. Busting open the door revealed a tiny office containing a desk, chairs, and an empty safe. Nothing worthwhile. I closed the door again.

From my backpack I took a jar of a milky yellow fluid and a barbecue basting brush. When I unscrewed the lid, a nasty rotting smell wafted out. My nose wrinkled in distaste as I began painting the door hinges in slime.

“What the Hell is that?” inquired the New Kid over my shoulder.

“Kid, Crashers never say the H-Word. Never. Not even Topside if we can avoid it. I told you this before we started.” I said.

“Aw, come on! That’s some superstitious bullshit!”

“I mean it.” I glared at him. “Watch your fucking mouth or you’ll jinx the whole Crash. Do not say the H-Word.”

“Sorry. What the heck is that?”

“Ever hear of ‘bukkake’?” I replied.

“No?”

“Then don’t worry about it.”

“Okay, but why are you doing that?”

“This particular Cherry won’t pop until the hinges have been lubed with actual body secretions. And before you ask: no, spit won’t cut it. Just be grateful the gateway doesn’t need it fresh.”

“Are they all like that?”

“No, some of them only open at midnight or you have to make a cat cry in pain. It depends on the Cherry.”

“Can I ask you a question?” the Kid asked, shuffling his feet uncertainly.

“Another one? Sure, Kid. Ask away.” I replied patiently.

“What makes a Cherry open where it does? I mean, if they can open anywhere how come a gateway doesn’t open up in the middle of Times Square? Or in a daycare?”

I paused for a long moment, considering.

“Rust and despair. Plants need water and sunshine. Mushrooms need shade and shit. Cherries need rust and despair. Simple as that.”

When I finished painting the hinges the door creaked open on its own, this time revealing a rickety wooden staircase down into darkness. Felix cracked a couple chemical glow sticks and shook them. They began glowing with a golden-green light and he tossed them through the doorway.

I grabbed the handles behind Felix’s wheelchair and edged it closer to the Cherry.

“Hey careful with the merchandise, peasant!”

“I ain’t afraid to kick a cripple downstairs.”

Felix stood up on the other side of the portal.

“What the fuck? You’re just faking?” Kid asked in an angry, disbelieving tone with eyes wide as dinner plates.

“No, Cuntpuddle.” Felix said, rolling his eyes. “My legs don’t work Topside, but they work just fine in the Nether.”

“Topside?”

“That’s just a slang term for the world we live in. Topside is the place that the Damned covet beyond all else and the rest of us take pretty much entirely for granted. Don’t know what you got ‘till it’s gone, as they say. It’s the world you see out your window, where we get born, fuck around, and die. It is what it is and for the most part it’s a pretty okay place to be. For the most part.”

“But how can he walk on the other side of the gate?”

“I don’t know Kid, but as soon as you figure it out let me know.” I said.

We turned on our lights and the five of us moved slowly downwards, footsteps echoing in the gloom.

The staircase was built out of salvaged boards, no two of which were the same; different lengths, different colors. There were fourteen steps exactly, but the topmost step was smaller than all the others and bright red. A last minute addition to avoid Unlucky 13 perhaps.

My nerves were on edge as we descended. Every little creaking step telegraphed our movements to anything lurking nearby.

At the bottom of the stairs we found a diseased and barren wasteland. The ground was black and filthy like the Athabasca oil sands of Canada. My throat and lungs ached. Noxious smoke filled the air and made breathing a chore.

I saw a hundred burning fires lighting up the distant mountains. That made me real tense. I’d watched “The Hills Have Eyes” once and the things down here would have put cannibal mutant rapists to shame.

Glancing backwards, I saw the staircase slowly disappearing like it’d never existed.

----------

In front of us, our destination was uncomfortably close. Squatting less than two hundred yards away was a dilapidated motel modeled after every circa-1940s cheaper-than-shit roadside inn on “the wrong side of the tracks” but worse. The walls had been marred by fire. A flickering red neon sign stuttered “VACANCY” into the night. On the porch was a screen door creaking back and forth on its hinges as if begging for relief. Acid rain tinkled weakly against the corrugated tin roof.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to the Hotel California.” I said.

Inside, we found rusted pipes leaking raw sewage and rotting the stucco. Fungal blooms spread over paper-thin plywood with the texture of rotten leaves splintering at the softest touch. Nearly every window was boarded up over the remnants of razor-sharp glass.

We searched room to room, seeing some of the sickest things you’ve never imagined. Things that can’t be unseen. It took us almost three days to find our target. I think the New Kid must have puked twenty times during that stretch.

Sleep was damn-near impossible for a variety of reasons. The moth-eaten sheets were stained yellow, constantly and consistently damp with every body fluid imaginable.

Thanks to the AC units mounted in the walls, most of the rooms were freezing cold and when I say freezing cold I mean actual people covered in actual ice. Never thought I’d see someone with their own urine frozen in an icicle hanging from their crotch.

Some of the rooms were blazing hot, literally cooking the inhabitants alive.

“Mmm! Smells like down-home cooking!” Felix quipped as he caught a whiff of scorched human flesh.

The ice machine down the hall never actually worked until you were attempting to sleep at which point it spontaneously turned on. It wouldn’t do a damn thing when you wanted it to but it would happily and loudly make the sound of a thousand blenders grinding away at a fistful of pebbles as soon as you laid down.

The first night we were camping in one of the motel rooms when the old TV in the corner suddenly turned itself on, self-tuned those old rabbit ear antennas covered in foil, and scared the ever-loving crap out of us by blasting some repugnant program at maximum volume.

The New Kid unplugged the television from the wall, but it stayed on anyway, causing him to start pounding on it angrily.

“Kid, quit making such a damn racket.” Vasquez said.

“Okay, fine.” the New Kid huffed, throwing himself down on the bed. “So here’s a question.”

“Jerkstain, your entire life is one big fucking question.” Felix quipped.

“Where do those shows come from? Is it something the Hotel made to screw with us?”

“Actually, that is a good question.” I said, busily stripping, cleaning, and reassembling my rifle. “I’m fairly certain those shows are piped in from CRT.”

“CRT?”

“It’s another Domain in the Big Bad. Except instead of a motel imagine a sewer filled with television sets and bad wiring. All the TV channels are fucked-up versions of the worst shows ever made.”

“Yeah Dickcheese, if you survive this job maybe someday you’ll get to go there!” Felix said, holding out a flask.

The Kid ignored the jibe but accepted the flask and took a swig of whiskey.

“For example?”

“Okay, you’ve seen the show ‘Survivor?’ Now imagine it’s more like the Hunger Games except the contestants hunt and eat each other to survive.”

“Jesus…”

“Trust me Kid; you really don’t want to watch anything on that boob tube. Here’s a question for you, Kid. How’d you get into this line of work?”

“Well… I dropped out of high school and started getting into trouble, hanging out with a bad crowd. One night my gang broke into a moving van and the cops spotted us. So I ran and made it into the basement of an abandoned meat packing plant. Found a door leading to a hallway made of baby teeth. The cops following me got eaten by a monster made out of tumors and barbed wire. Bought me time to get back Topside. After that, it was only a matter of time before I found more Crashers. What about you guys?”

“Back in the day I was a long-haul trucker until I went into the wrong goddamn gas station. My partner never really came out again. I found that I’d lost the use of my legs when I dragged myself out of the Pit. I figure if I keep Crashing I’ll find a way to make them work permanently.”

“How about you?”

“Me? I’m in it for the money. Cold, hard cash. This ain’t no charity; I got bills to pay. When I do a job, I expect to get paid.” I said.

“Amen to that, brother.” Jackie said, tilting a bottle in my direction with a nod. “The bigger the paycheck the better.”

“How about you Vasquez? How’d you get into this line of work?”

“I’ve been doing this my whole life, man.” Vasquez replied.

“Say what now?”

“When I was a kid, I was a refugee. My dad brought me to the U.S. from Cuba on a raft made out of old plastic barrels he lashed together. I think I was about nine, maybe ten years old at the time.”

“You’re a Cuban?”

“Cuban-American to you, gringo. I’m a Hialeah boy, born and raised. Before ‘95, if a Cubano set foot on American soil they got the chance to apply for residency status a year later. Lucky for us, we made it ashore before we got picked up on Miami Beach. Dry-Feet, they called us.”

“Dad got a job working graveyard shift at a gas station and I started going to school. I always walked down there by myself to bring Dad a soda and we’d sit and chat for a while. One night I’m going down there right before bedtime and there’s all these police out front with that yellow crime scene tape strung up across the door. The cops say that the robbers put lit matches all over him before they killed him.” He takes a long swig from the bottle.

“So Mom couldn’t afford the rent without Dad, and after that we were sleeping rough. Couch-surfing, church pews, shelters, and sidewalks.”

“My God…” Kid said.

“God? God can’t help us, man. See, Satan led his army to storm the Gates of Heaven and drove God and the angels out. The demons smashed his palace of blue-moon marble into dust and Satan sits on the Throne of Heaven. That’s why our world is so fucked up.”

“So Dad’s spirit came to me. He was bloody and there were these tiny flames burning all over his body. He told me that demons found doors to our world. That’s why the gates keep opening, man.”

“Dad told me that he was joining God’s secret army of angels to take back Heaven. He told me that I needed to learn to fight. To stay strong and smart, so I could count on myself, no one else. To fight back against evil. So I went looking for the gates. You look hard enough and long enough, eventually you find something. And I did.”

“Man… is it worth it?” the Kid asked.

“That’s not the right question.” I said.

“Huh?”

“The real question is do you censor yourself or not?”

“What do you mean?”

“Option A: you say the things you ought to, and shut your mouth on what you actually think. You wear the clothes you’re told to wear, go where they say to go when you’re told to go there, do the things they tell you to do. In return, you get the job, the girl, the two-point-five kids, a white picket fence, and a dog. You get to eat three square meals a day, get laid occasionally, and probably enough money to get you everything you need, some of what you want, and a bed to sleep in with a roof over your head. You’re a slave but you’re comfortable.”

“Option B: you get nothing. You get fuck-all and you’ll like it because you’re free. Go where you want when you want and do what you want to do when you want to do it. Comfort means fuck-all because you’ll probably get arrested, get your head kicked in, or both.”

“So my point is do whatever you want to do because I really don’t give a shit, Kid.”

We sat there silently for the rest of the night. There was really nothing more to say.

It was the second night when the New Kid decided that he actually did want to watch something on TV. Scrambled Porn Sally was pole dancing and the fuzzy static bar was right where you didn’t want it to be.

We found the Kid staring and slack-jawed, his nose touching the flickering television screen. His eyes were watering and blood trickled from one nostril.

I shook him out of it and he mumbled a quiet “thank you.” Every so often I’d catch him stealing glances at the television when he thought I wasn’t looking.

If you were still so exhausted that none of that kept you awake, the phone rang and room service cheerfully provided a complimentary wake-up call just as you were nodding off.

Then there were the cock-roaches. Behind one door we found one of the Lost covered in chittering insects. Carnivorous, angry little bastards about three inches long and sporting chitinous dicks.

The moment it was dark the cock-roaches came scuttling out to bite a hole in your skin, pump their nasty bug-dongs in the bleeding orifice, and lay eggs in your flesh. After a few minutes, the cock-roaches deposited a load of eggs and goop into the poor bastard which then burst open and made a new swarm.

Hiding in every nook and cranny, they skittered into hiding beneath the bed and in the closet when illuminated by a flashlight mounted on the barrel of an AR-15.

The New Kid squashed a couple roaches beneath his boot and the rubber sole began to sizzle. “Damn it! That burns like battery acid!” he shouted.

“Then don’t do that.” I calmly said.

On Day Three we found a Damned that swore up and down he’d seen our target. We’d bribed him with a little baggie of black tar heroin that offered a brief respite from his torment, so we felt confident the intel was solid.

We were moving through the darkened hotel hallways, guns at the ready. The Kid was on point with Vasquez watching his back. Felix and Jackie were in the middle while I was behind the squad.

“This scary-ass motel reminds me of that movie ‘Identity’ with John Cusack. You ever see that shit?”

“Is that the one where Cusack delivers a bag to a creepy motel out in the middle of nowhere?”

“Nah, man. That’s ‘The Bagman’ but it did have a creepy motel.” he said.

“Okay, so is Identity the one where Cusack has to stay in a haunted hotel room?” Jackie asked.

“No goddammit, that’s ‘1408.’ Identity is the one where there’s like a dozen people stranded at this motel in the middle of nowhere and they start getting killed one by one.”

“Okay, first of all: why does John Cusack stay in so many scary motels?”

“Typecasting?”

“And secondly, why are we talking about this while we’re standing in the scariest motel ever?”

“Third question.” I interrupted. “Do you two ever shut up?”

We entered Room 303 and finding it completely thrashed, lingered in the doorway. Mattress slashed, threadbare blankets ripped, and every stick of furniture broken. The stench in the room was overpowering. The source was easy to spot; a cadaver lay rotting amid scattered toys on the floor.

“Rock and roll.” Felix said glibly.

We slowly searched the room.

“Dude check this out!” Felix excitedly waved his latest find: a teddy bear stitched together with human skin, complete with male genitals and real eyeballs too. Just looking at it gave me the creeps.

Giggling, Felix waved the bear inches from the Kid’s face. “Come here and let me give you a big old kiss!”

“Ugh, it’s blinking at me.” Jackie said.

“You’re coming home with me little buddy!” He stuffed the doll into his backpack.

We heard a scraping sound inside a large armoire in the corner with the doors shut. Everyone went silent immediately. Vasquez pointed his gun at it.

“Come on out of there slowly, and you won’t get shot.”

There was no noise or movement of any kind in response. Felix sighed before moving very slowly towards the armoire. He pulled the door open quickly, surprising the woman crouched inside. She was covered head-to-toe with bleeding holes from the cock-roaches.

“Climb out of there slowly, with your hands up.” Vasquez said. The woman seemed to comply with Vasquez’s order, her palms open and weaponless.

The Kid hesitated for just an instant when she sprang at him. The woman grabbed his hand, pointing the gun away from herself and he fired out of reflex, the blast ringing in our ears. He tripped over the corpse on the floor, falling backwards. His head hit the floorboards, dazing him momentarily.

She straddled him, clawing his face and howling like a banshee until Jackie stepped forward and bashed the other woman upside the head with the butt of her rifle. The woman collapsed to the floor, clutching her bleeding skull.

“Oh God, don’t kill me, don’t kill me!” she sobbed as she cowered and covered her head with both arms.

“Quiet!”

The woman shut her mouth instantly, but her body visibly trembled and her eyes welled up. Occasionally, tears ran down her face, leaving twin trails on her filthy cheeks.

“Damn guys, isn’t that a little harsh? I mean, look at her. She’s scared and she’s hurt!” said the New Kid.

“Look Kid, I explained this before but let me make it perfectly clear. She isn’t a person deserving of respect and dignity. She’s a very bad person who did very bad things and ended up in a very bad place.” I said.

“Yeah, but-“

“Everyone, and I mean everyone, in the Down Below deserves to be here. No one wakes up down here for being an atheist, or being gay, or for smoking weed when you were sixteen.” I continued.

“Every single person in the Bad Place committed at least one genuine act of pure, unmitigated evil.” I counted off a list on each finger. “Rape, murder, torture. Shoot, I’ve even been on a job to collect a Wall Street banker who stole people’s retirement accounts then blew it on hookers and cocaine.”

“The point is that they did something that caused pain and suffering to others and whatever they did was enough to earn a ticket Way Down to Hadestown.” I pointed to the woman crouched and shaking on the floor. “That includes Little Miss Sunshine here.”

“You try anything like that again, and I’ll shoot your hands off. You run, I shoot your feet. Am I making myself clear?” Jackie said to our target.

“Yes.”

“Is your name Laura?”

“Yes… how…?”

Felix gripped the woman roughly by her chin and held her face up. Vasquez pulled out the centerfold and looked back and forth from one to the other.

“That’s a positive ID on the primary target.” Vasquez said.

“Great, can we get the Hell out of here now?” said the New Kid.

“Goddammit Fucktard, we told you not to say the H-Word!” Felix yelled angrily. He grabbed the Kid by the straps of his flak jacket and shoved him back against the wall.

The New Kid stammered out an apology, but we all knew the damage had already been done. By all rights, we could have abandoned him right then and there. We could have left him to die, but for the time being, we still needed another pair of hands to finish the job.

“We need to get out. Now. We have definitely overstayed our welcome. Bag her up.” I said.

Felix and Jackie grabbed the target by the arms, holding them together and Vasquez locked handcuffs to her wrists. The Kid shoved a black bag over the target’s head despite her protests.

Prize in hand, we made our way out of the motel room just as fast as we could.

----------

At long last we made it to a stretch of blacktop. Abandoned vehicles filled the road and we cautiously threaded our way around them. Each vehicle was rusted or gutted, and most of them had corpses for passengers. The Damned turned their rotting heads to watch us pass, reaching weakly out to grab us.

Dead weeds stuck up wherever they could find purchase in the cracks. We found that the road had been melted, cooled, and reformed. Several Damned had been submerged in the asphalt, arms outstretched as if surfacing from beneath a pool of black oil. Their cries were muffled but still audible. There were impressions left behind in the asphalt after it had released its prizes to the scavengers who came later.

“Hey, do you hear that?” Jackie asked.

“Hear what?” said the New Kid.

“Sounds like something scraping on metal. Listen. It’s coming from over there.”

Obscured by the tinted windows of a camper shell, something moved in the back of a rusted pickup sitting up on cinder blocks. The New Kid crept slowly up to the back of the truck and dropped the tailgate.

A sleek, obsidian hound with a human head launched itself out of the back of the truck. Its fur was black and glistening, with a body built for speed like a greyhound but with the face of a man. It opened its disjointed jaw and roared like a mountain lion, revealing rows of serrated shark teeth.

Like a heat-seeking missile, it hurtled itself at the Kid with every intention of clamping its jaws around his throat. He brought his arm up to block the hound’s attack and the beast locked its fang-filled maw around his limb.

The creature snarled, shaking the Kid like a rag doll, intent on tearing his arm off in a gout of blood. Claws tore his clothing, and the Kid screamed in pain as triangular teeth began to puncture holes in the flesh of his arm.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw a short length of wood. He scrambled for it in the dust with his left hand while the dog savaged his right arm. The New Kid finally managed to wrap his hand around the sturdy board and brought it down on the canine’s square-shaped head in a sweeping arc. There was a loud crack as the board connected, but he could’ve been smacking it with a flyswatter for all the good it did. He struck the sharkdog in its human-shaped face with the board over and over again. The New Kid tried shoving the end into the monster’s mouth to pry it open, but the beast refused to release his bleeding arm.

The moment I saw an opening I shoved my old Ka-Bar knife right into the side of its head. The beast shuddered and died, collapsing in a heap on top of the Kid. He wiped blood and gore off his face and looked up with bleary eyes.

“Told you not to use the H-Word.” I said.

We stopped beside a rusting Quonset hut for a quick break. Jackie dug around in her backpack for a pack of smokes and her lighter. Felix went to take a leak on the other side of the building.

I took a swig from my canteen. The water in the canteen had a sharp taste of iodine from the purification pills I’d dropped in: not unexpected from reclaimed water, but always tough to stomach.

Vasquez sat the package down beside the Quonset and removed her hood long enough for me to give Laura a drink of water. She gulped it down gratefully before we replaced the hood on her head.

I mentally inventoried the remaining water. We all had plastic bottles in our packs plus had the canteen on my hip. I’d read somewhere that the best place to store water was inside ourselves. While I understood that intellectually, I couldn’t help but be daunted at the prospect of making our way across the desert without any water tucked away for later.

Rations were running low too.

We were still many miles away from an exit Topside, and the Bad Place was always full of surprises.

“Hey Garrett. Got a minute?” Vasquez beckoned me over to the side of the building. “You know what I just realized?” he asked.

“That simultaneous revelations aren’t a thing?”

Vasquez leaned in to whisper in my ear. “We are now standing in the Tollway.”

“Route 666?” I asked.

He nodded. “I didn’t recognize it before because there’s no tollbooth and no signs. But one of us is going to pay the toll. You know who I mean.”

I looked over at the New Kid. He was nursing a knot on the back of his head and his face was still all scratched up from Laura’s fingernails. The New Kid removed the sopping bandage wrapped around his arm. The wound where the sharkdog had bit him was black with infected tissue.

Together, we coldly calculated his chances of survival and came up short.

The New Kid was taking a leak on the side of a rusted Quonset hut while Vasquez and I decided his fate.

Rumbling engine noises heralded the arrival of a flat-black sedan on the horizon. A vehicle of generic make and model, the police cruiser had clearly driven through “You-Know-Where” and come out on the other side.

Jackie and Felix grabbed our target and the five of us hustled behind the Quonset, hiding as quick as we could and praying we weren’t seen. The New Kid wasn’t so lucky. The dumb fuck stood there with his dick in his hands and didn’t notice the police cruiser until it was too late.

The battle-scarred vehicle came to a stop, engine idling. The dented drivers’ side door opened and a bipedal male wearing a khaki uniform emerged from the dark interior of the cab. At first glance he may even have passed for human except that every inch of skin was horribly burnt and mutilated. Steel-toed boots crunched on the gravel as he approached.

The Trooper peered at the Kid through his mirrored aviator sunglasses. One hand rested on the nightstick tucked into his belt.

Unsure what to expect, I kept my hand near my pistol just in case.

“You live around here, boy?”

“No sir. Just passing through and found the place like this.”

“I find out you’re lying to me, we’re going to have a problem, boy.”

“Understood.” Every now and then, I caught a glimpse of scarred flesh beneath his shirt.

“Alright then. Just so long as we have an understanding between us.” The Trooper looked around at the horizon almost as if he’d forgotten he was in the middle of a conversation. His gaze settled back on the Kid. “What’s your name, son?”

“My name?”

“Don’t play dumb now.”

Without warning the Trooper pulled a baton from his belt and smashed the Kid with a merciless blow. He doubled over in pain, clutching his belly.

The Trooper loomed over the Kid, lightly smacking the baton in the palm of his palm.

“Looks like you in a heap of trouble here, boy.” the Trooper said with a pronounced Southern accent. He pronounced “here” like “he-ah.”

“You look healthy, don’t have the shakes. No sir, I can tell just from lookin’ at you. You a young man, your back is strong, and you got all your parts in working order, yes sir. You got your whole life in front of you. Seems to me you’ll make a fine slave.”

“You’re gonna dig for us with your bare hands, until your skin is gone, and you dig until your finger bones are worn down to lil’ nubbins. Yessuh, and I’m gonna beat you so bad you’re gonna thank me for the privilege of diggin’.”

The Trooper raised the baton to smash the Kid over the head.

Shots rang out as I unloaded my Glock 9mm into the Trooper’s head, blasting him over and over again. Bullets shattered his aviator shades and tore holes in his khaki uniform before the Trooper fell to the ground. We ran up and Jackie fired her shotgun point-blank into the Trooper’s face before checking on the Kid.

“That seems like overkill, Jackie.” I said with a smirk.

“Overkill is nothing but a word.”

“That stick looks like lacquered hickory but felt like rebar covered in nettles.” The Kid hissed.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here. If one Trooper found us, more are on the way.” I said.

The crew hurried into the Cruiser while the target went into the trunk like a piece of luggage.

“Buckle up.”

“I don’t want to.” the New Kid pouted.

That nasally whine was the last straw. Ice water flowed through my veins. It must have showed on my face because when he saw my expression he recoiled.

“I don’t give a fuck what you want. I ain’t your brother, I ain’t your dad. Lately I ain’t even a nice person. If you don’t do what I say when I say I will knock you the fuck out and make it happen. Now buckle the fuck up.”

He buckled up.

I shifted the police cruiser into drive and stomped on the gas. Nothing happened. “No.” I stomped on it again, shouting louder each time. “No, no, no! I do not believe this horseshit!”

“Is it a Ford?” Felix joked.

Aggravated, my forehead hit the steering wheel. The Troopers were bearing down on us fast. I stomped down on the gas out of frustration and the Cruiser lurched forward. Surprised, I looked up and the vehicle died again, whiplashing our necks. “What the-?”

I closed my eyes, gripped the wheel, and stepped on the gas. The Cruiser moved forward slowly.

“Guys, you’re not going to like this.”

An hour later and my heart was still hammering in my chest and I was white-knuckling the wheel. Vasquez sat right beside me, giving me directions as I drove pedal-to-the-metal with my eyes shut tight.

Bullets pinged off our vehicle and I ducked out of reflex. I could barely hear the gunshots over the roaring engines and police sirens.

“Can’t this piece of shit go any faster?!” Jackie screamed inches from my ear. Jackie turned in her seat, firing a few potshots at the other cruiser.

Felix rooted around in the Army surplus duffel bag and pulled a homemade pipe bomb from the bottom. He lit the fuse with a cheap gas station lighter, let it cook for a moment, then lobbed it out the window at our pursuers.

His throw fell short, and the pipe bomb landed in the middle of the road.

Whether it was Luck or Fate or God deciding to finally give us a break, the second cop car drove over top of the pipe bomb, straddling it with all four tires before it went off.

The police cruiser lifted off the ground, bursting into flame and sending two Troopers screaming into oblivion.

“Keep driving, let’s get as many miles away from here as we can before this thing runs out of gas.” Vasquez instructed.

The sun was setting, and already a cold wind was sweeping down from the hills. Within an hour the temperature would drop by fifty degrees. Sleeping in the exposed cab of the police cruiser would prove to be a very uncomfortable option that night.

And the next night.

And the next.

Four of us left the New Kid hogtied and blubbering in the middle of the road. None of us said a word about it, but we all knew our offering was accepted because we found an exit Topside within an hour.

To this day, I don’t know what dragged him screaming into the desert. But the toll had to be paid.

----------

We delivered the package to a seedy film studio on the outskirts of Las Vegas, Nevada. On the soundstage was a set built out of plywood and made to look like a teen girl’s bedroom: painted pink and full of stuffed dolls. Stage lights hung from metal bars where the room’s ceiling should be, and several cameras were aimed at the bed from different angles.

We were escorted by a couple of hired goons. Low-rent thugs with chrome-played Glocks tucked in the waistband of their jeans.

Vasquez led the way past the stage lights and cameras. Jackie and I flanked the package, while Felix rolled behind with a sawed-off shotgun cradled in his lap.

“You know what the worst job here would be?” Felix asked.

“What?” I sighed.

“Janitor. Can you imagine cleaning this place every night? ‘Excuse me sir, can you lift your feet? I’m trying to mop here’.”

“Jesus, Felix.” I laughed. I couldn’t help it.

“Every night you have to clean it! You can’t imagine the smell!”

“Sure I can.” Jackie retorted. “Like a warm turtle tank probably.”

Felix chortled loudly.

Our customer was a loathsome weasel named Bob Gunkel. He was fat, slowly sliding his way to four hundred pounds. He came out of his office wearing a Hawaiian shirt with huge sweat stains under his pits. He wiped cheese puff dust off his hands, leaving long orange fingerprints on his khakis. The very sight of him made my skin crawl.

“Well? Did you bring her back to me?”

Vasquez pulled the black bag off the package’s head.

“You did it! I have to admit, I had my doubts when I heard you could bring her back but you actually did it!” Gunkel caressed her with his meaty fingers and the expression on his face looked like he was already creaming his pants. She flinched away, but we’d kept the ankle chains and handcuffs on for a reason.

“Laura, sweet Laura, I know I got carried away the last time we were together, but I promise you this time is going to be different!”

Vasquez gripped my arm before I even realized my fist was clenched.

“Sir, not to interrupt, but if you’ll just pay us our fee we’ll be on our way and leave you two alone together.”

“Of course!” He snapped his fingers and one of the goons retrieved a couple of greasy fast food sacks, handing them to Vasquez.

Vasquez checked the paper bags and the wads of cash inside. Jackie and I watched the goon squad to see if their hands moved towards their pistols.

“Are we good?” Gunkel asked.

Everyone held their breath for a moment.

“Yeah, we’re good.” Vasquez said. “Let’s move out, team.”

“You lovebirds have a real nice time now, y’hear!” Felix called on the way out.

Later that night we were sitting in a strip club called Sin Bragas working our way through our second bottle of Don Julio Blanco.

On the asphalt, neon-drenched streets of Topside, we're nothings and nobodies. Between the fast food and taxes, the bad gas station coffee and the past-due child support payments, we’re just pieces of soiled human garbage. In a world of drugs, traffic, radio, politics, smoke and mirrors, we’re little more than dirty, disposable pawns.

Yet amongst the freak show outlaws and leather-clad outcasts, the occult cabals and deranged sickos, the demon summoners, the adrenaline junkies, and conspiracy nuts who make up the heart of the Hades-diving fringe, we’re death-defying, bigger-than-life rock stars.

Every form of fame has its own form of groupies. There are women who sent marriage proposals to Ted Bundy when he was on Death Row, for God’s sake.

Most of us had a scantily-clad woman hanging on an arm or crawling in our lap. Jackie was busy showing off her new tattoo, flexing biceps as big as my head. Her upper arm shined with fresh ink depicting a sexy Devil Girl straddling a black spade with the number “13” in racecar red.

“Well, I gotta go drop the kids off at the pool. Felix said.

Vasquez rolled his eyes and jerked a thumb towards the hallway behind him. Felix rolled his wheelchair to the men’s room. I followed.

When I stepped into the men’s room Felix was pounding on the handicap stall door. “As if my life wasn’t hard enough!” Felix shouted.

I was standing at the urinal when one of the local yokels came in. I recognized him as the hillbilly at the bar telling racist jokes to the stone-faced bartender.

Now, every man knows that there are unspoken rules of men’s room etiquette. When you’re first and there are multiple urinals on the wall, you’re supposed to take the spot furthest from the door. When you come in second, you take the spot furthest from the first guy. What you don’t do, what you never, ever, ever do is stand at the urinal directly adjacent to the first man. That’s a surefire path to an ass-kicking in my book. Of course, this mullet-wearing motherfucker decided to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with me.

“You guys are Hellcrashers, aren’t you?” he asked.

I didn’t respond.

“Dude, you guys just go down to Hell, kick Satan in the balls, and rescue the souls of big-tittied single moms. Man, that’s fucking awesome. “What’s it like being a Hellcrasher, bro?”

“Ever hear the one about the guy who wouldn’t shut the fuck up with his dick in his hand?” I curtly replied without looking at him.

“Um, no?”

I reached up and grabbed the hair on the back of his head then slammed him face-first into the tile. His nose broke and he crumpled like a wet paper sack, hitting his chin on the urinal on the way down to the floor. I hosed him down with the contents of my bladder for good measure.

“That’s what it’s like.”

I was washing my hands when I heard Felix shouting.

“Hey! Can somebody toss me some toilet paper? I’m all out of shit tickets over here!”

I left the club without a word.

[bunni-teeth81]

The names of mha in my phone!

1-A

Emo baby bird boi- tokoyami

Sixer 2.0 - Shoji

Daddy shark - kirishima

Twinkle twink - Aoyama

Char-char-ger - Denki

Flex tape - Sero

Flex seal but uno reverse - Mina

Explosion bastard bitch boy - Katsuki

It’s a bird, it’s a plane, it’s uravity! - Ochako

Sonic the hedgehog 2.0 - Tenya

Musical lesbian - Jirou

Smart lesbian - Momo

Daddy issue twin but not really - Shoto

Kickin’ it with you - Ojiro

Ninja frog - Asui

Green dipper pines with broken bones - Izuku

Invisabilly - Tooru

Sugar rush - Sato

Snow White but older and cuter - Koda

How did grape Hoe get my number don’t text him - Mineta

1-B

Mushroom dance 💃🏽 - kinoko

Teeths - Juzo

My not so little punk bitch - Togaru

One and only man of steel - tetsu

My little pony - Pony

! - manga

Gay or Europen - Yui

Bby - Shoda

How did he get my #? - Monoma

Have you ever been verified in the eyes of god? - Ibara

No talk I angy 😠 - Jurota

I wanna hold your hand - Kendo

It’s a bug’s life 👁👁 - Kosei

Baybay - Tokage

I cri - Kojiro

Probably has mommy issues - Rekio

Samurai hair having- - Rin

The shadow man - Kiroiro

Probably dead inside tbh 💀- Kaibara

Bandana tm - Yosetsu

Other students

What’s new pussycat? - Shinso

Needs a Milky Way - Tamaki

Oh oh oh it’s Magic - Mirio

Wife in another life - Nejire

whipslash - Insana

Steampunk lovely - mei

Pro heros

Daddy orca - Gang Orca

Bob’s your uncle - Fatgum

There’s no need to fear for He is here - All Might

Freya’s twin but blonde 🔊 - Present mic

Mommy 🥺💖✨ - Midnight

Cat daddy - Aizawa

Mountain mama 🔉- mt lady

On fire Garbage can with 4(?) kids - Endeavor

That one ‘bird’ bitch - Hawks

Toughie with a big heart 💖 - Gunhead

🧿 - Nighteye

The true hero - Nezu

Haru but human and thiccc - Miruko

Fabric-attack - best jeanist

Literal royalty - tiger

What happens when you have 2 shadows in the library - 13

Edgy~ - Edge shot

What the 2018 slender movie thought Slenderman was - Kamui Woods

Dragon mamma - Ryukyu

Like a rhinestone cowboy - Snipe

Fireman 2.0 - Backdraft

Police tape as a person yet still better then the cops somehow - Death Arms

My friend John who is now a father, this man has a baby - Rock Lock

6 year old me is QUAKING - Centipeder

Bubbles fix everything - Bubble Girl

👁👅👁 - Ragdoll

Hey kid, want a Pikie-stick? - Pikie-bob

Lady Mandalay - Mandalay

Sirius black - Sirius

Mythological bitch said “fuck you mythology” - Selkie

Protect at all costs - Tensei

Bounce - Grand Torino

Pavement boi - Cementoss

Don’t call the Ghost Busters on him - Ectoplasm

Blood blood galons of the stuff - Vlad King

Beep beep beep beep - Power Loader

Lov/ Whatever villains I add

Crusty dusty here needs more chapstick then the world has - Shigaraki

Knock off tmnt - Spinner

Knock-off Nina - Toga

Daddy issues; the prequel - Dabi

Magiccarp but useful - Mr. Compress

Knock-off Deadpool - twice

Shadow villain from Care Bears - Kurogiri

The mamma - Mange

Dumb fucking cunt go die so I can dance in your grave - Overhaul

Stupid bitch can’t do shit fucking ugly ass motherfucker stupid dipshit fuckshit dicktit - All for one

Silverfish but with teeth - Moonfish

Stupid ass villain name for a stupid ass 12 year old - Mustard

Wants to be Gang Orca but isnt even good enough to be his employee - Rappa

Ew I didn’t ask for this man to exist near me - Muscular

Upgraded Jeff the killer - Stain

[40sandfabulousaf]

大家好! Stalls selling fish soup usually also offer seafood soup; most of these comprise prawns, fish, tofu and mixed veggies, served with rice or noodles. I chanced upon 1 such stall which gave customers the option to add scallops, fish maw and other ingredients. Curious, I tried it with an added serving of fish maw. This dish came with large handmade pork balls seasoned with finely chopped salted fish, and some tomatoes and sliced mushrooms.

The fish maw infused the soup with rich, milky collagen, which was delicious with rice. Thick slices of dory were melt in the mouth tender, the prawns were fresh and sweet and the pork balls... 😍 The stall didn't go overboard with the salted fish, so those meat chunks weren't overly salty; instead, they were just about perfect. I also tried yu zhou (fish porridge) with added dan si (crispy egg floss) from a stall near the 1 I frequent. This is a Teochew zhou, which has whole rice grains as opposed to the smooth and silky Cantonese version.

Food is much more expensive than it used to be and, in spite of optimistic reports claiming that global food costs are dropping, few countries' citizens have reaped the benefits. During our catch up, Grace, Douglas and I discussed what to do if the situation worsens. My answer was, go back to how we ate in the '80s - a small bowl of rice, a protein and a veggie. Western meals were different then: meat was half the portions we're currently served, garden veggies were the size of a scoop of ice cream and we had a jacket potato with butter for carbs. Nobody died from malnutrition then and we were healthier; prices were lower too!

Let's be realistic: as long as some countries try to instigate wars, such as promoting 1 between China and the Taiwan province, our economies will resemble war economies for a longer time or even worsen. Already, many people struggle to afford basics such as meat, eggs and dairy and, if voices aren't loud enough to stop certain leaders from carrying out malicious plans, many vulnerable will die. Dunno about you but when SNAP benefits are cut for families who already find it difficult to make ends meet, it looks to me like the poor will be sacrificed for perceived potential political gains. For normal folks, just filling their stomachs with nutritious food might be tougher. Is this what you want for you, your family, neighbours, friends and country?

If you haven't read the history of World War II and the immense suffering the world endured, I would suggest you do that. The complaints of suffering now are nothing close to what people experienced when a war of that scale occurred. Go read it, then you know why some countries are so against more wars. Whoever promotes it needs to be cancelled, for the good of mankind. 下次见!

[unklarity]

Critical Role: Caduceus

“Everything we do is a declaration of our love, our adoration, or our denial of it.”

When I asked for advice about which member of the Mighty Nein I should make a box for next, a bunch of people suggested Caduceus. I wasn’t anywhere near ep 28 at the time and really didn’t want to spoil myself early, so I went by my love of his color palette and decided to jump into it with the limited knowledge I had of his character. Unlike Yasha, I struggled with putting his character into a set amount of words at the beginning, and the themes of the box were reworked multiple times. I also struggled with translating the vision of the box I had in my head into a real, physical object. I remade things more times than I’d like to admit, but now that he’s all done, I’m so glad I took the time to get everything just how I wanted it to be.

I found the box and carved out the center circle, knowing that I wanted to include the symbol of the Wildmother on the top of the box. It’s made from forget-me-nots, coral bells, cypress leaves, and a little hand-carved wooden staff, sealed in resin.

The inside lid was a ton of fun. I knew I wanted to incorporate the beetles and the ruins of the Blooming Grove, and I really wanted to feel like you were peering in through one of the holes in the walls. So I sculpted some stone walls and filled some of the holes with lichen, leaving a space for a little graveyard scene in the corner, with some little mushrooms growing an the gravestones. And last but not least, I added some little beetle friends - which were a lot more time consuming then they appear. I had to hunt down brass beetles, paint them black, and then use green chrome powder with a bit of pink before I sealed them. I love how they turned out, though, and I think they look so cute nestled in the ruin walls!

As far as crystals, this is a pretty sparse box due to lack of space, but I really wanted to include a large amethyst chunk as the focal point since Caduceus has one in his staff. Amethyst is a focus stone, helping with divination and visions as well as prophetic dreams, but also a stone to help us find clarity and illuminate our way when we don’t know if we’re on the right path or not.

Other than that, the box has a piece of moss agate, a piece of milky grey chalcedony, a piece of pink tourmaline, and a rose quartz tower and sprinkling of rose quartz pebbles.

Moss agate was a perfect aesthetic choice for the box, but it also helps with leaving your current environment and getting accustomed to a new way of life, as well as seeing beauty in everything, even things that might not necessarily seem positive to others. Chalcedony (which is also agate) is a stone of support, grounding and balance, reflecting the balance of nature and the cycle of life, death, and decay. Pink tourmaline is a stone of gentleness, helping to heal old wounds, cleanse guilt and grief, and stop destructive behaviors, which I think fits Caduceus’ personality and propensity for mentoring certain members of the Mighty Nein. Lastly, rose quartz is for comfort, love, and healing.

There’s also a tiny little teacup filled with moss and sculpted mushrooms, just because I could.

Potions:

As I said earlier, it was tough to really pin down concrete themes for the potions for this box. I usually have them all figured out before I start doing anything, but this time I was still trying to figure them out as I was creating.

There are 6 potions, one of them being a tiny terrarium, and each is numbered on the bottom. The first potion in the first photo (#1) is focused on Caduceus’ soft and gentle demeanor, his kindness, and his calm and comforting aura. It contains chamomile and lavender for calm; cedar, vervain and magnolia for peace/tranquility; rose quartz for comfort; pink rose for gentleness, and white carnation for kindness. It’s sealed in silver wax with a mushroom stamp.

The second potion (#2) represents his insight, wisdom, and perception.There’s acorns and sunflower for wisdom; cinquefoil for sharing wisdom with others; sage for wisdom and insight; anise and rosemary for awareness; mugwort for perception/divination and scrying, and jasmine for clarity. It’s sealed with silver wax and the swirl as a symbol of the Wildmother.

The last potion in the photo (#3) is a mini terrarium filled with pink and white lichen, a beetle, a dogwood flower, and a quote from Caduceus: “Things die. Sometimes they come back.”

In the second photo, the first potion (#4) focuses on Caduceus’ role as guardian of his family’s temple, cycles of life and death, and upholding the natural order. It includes cypress for grief, death, and dying, and for helping people to heal in crisis; yarrow and rue for trying to get rid of corruption, and bluebell for rituals of death and dying. It is sealed with silver wax and a wildflower stamp.

The next potion (#5) is focused around Caduceus and his relationship with the rest of the MIghty Nein. I wanted to explore his role as a guide and mentor for them; he brings a positive outlook that differs from the rest of the group, and is willing to help them to grow and heal, even if he doesn’t necessarily consider them equals. The potion contains chrysanthemum for honest and blunt advice; chamomile for patience; calendula for joy and positivity, and fostering healing and growth; lemon balm for sympathy and easing sorrow; mint for guidance and mentoring/nurturing; hibiscus for helping others work through trauma, and lilac for feeling removed from a group or like an outsider. It’s sealed with silver wax and a lily of the valley stamp.

The last potion (#6) deals with dedication and Intent as an expression of faith, and Caduceus’ philosophy of life as an act of Devotion to the Wildmother. It contains violet for faith; vervain and skullcap for ritual; anise and cloves for intention, and dogwood for devotion. It’s sealed with silver wax and a lily of the valley stamp.

Finally, the box is visibly covered in lichen and moss, which aside from being an aesthetic choice is also associated with perseverance, calm, patience, nurturing, and grounding; there is also a lily of the valley charm on a red thread. The red thread represents destiny, and Lily of the Valley represents protection against negativity, preserving nature, and power hidden behind an unthreatening façade.

Caduceus will be available in my shop update on July 7th! (Edit: he has SOLD) Feel free to contact me here or through my shop with questions. You can see my site and shop at unklarity (dot) com!

Thanks for reading! <3