Menopause ,definition, symptoms,causes, effects,

Menopause is that the time that marks the tip of your expelling cycles. It's diagnosed once you've got gone twelve months while not a expelling amount. climacteric will happen in your 40s or 50s, however the common age is fifty one within the u. s..
Menopause could be a natural organic process. however the physical symptoms, like hot flashes, and emotional symptoms of climacteric could disrupt your sleep, lower your energy or have an effect on emotional health. There square measure several effective treatments accessible, from mode changes to internal secretion medical care.
Menopause ,definition, symptoms,causes, effects,

Symptoms

In the months or years leading up to climacteric (perimenopause), you would possibly expertise these signs and symptoms:
• Irregular periods
• Vaginal waterlessness
• Hot flashes
• Chills
• Night sweats
• Sleep issues
• Mood changes
• Weight gain and slowed metabolism
• Thinning hair and dry skin
• Loss of breast fullness
Signs and symptoms, together with changes in expelling will vary among girls. possibly, you may expertise some irregularity in your periods before they finish.

I'm an experienced Daddy/Dom/Master seeking a sweet sub to train, guide, mentor, nurture, and mold into the best little plaything she can be for her Daddy. I'm 6'2 with a shaved head, beard, and a dadbod. Pics on profile.
I'm looking for an emotionally available sub of any experience level whom wants the love and affection of a Daddy that's as devoted to her as she is to him. I like to be soft and gentle as well as hard and rough. I enjoy being affectionate as much as I do being sadistic. There will be safe words and plenty of aftercare. I don't mind starting out online, but I'm looking for someone whom wants to meetup sooner than later and eventually move in with me for a 24/7 lifestyle dynamic. I am a homeowner and I'm in a comfortable and secure place in my life and I want to share that stability and reliability with a special someone. I will pay all the bills and cover any necessities, plus a couple date nights a month and a couple vacations a year. I am very much looking for a homemaker type that enjoys cooking and doesn't mind cleaning. I thrive on attention, giving and receiving, so I'm looking for the same in a sub, even better if you're clingy/needy. I cannot have anymore children so if you want a family we wouldn't be compatible long term.
In time you will become completely devoted to me and entirely obedient. Brats are welcome to try their luck! ;P You will be greatly cared for, deeply loved, and adoringly doted upon, but also thoroughly used, degraded, and humiliated. There will be lots of structure, rules, and discipline. It will all be with the intent to bring us closer, strengthen our bond, enhance our intimacy, and explore the limits of our desires as we pursue intense headspace experiences. Obviously there are times when real life supersedes the dynamic, but otherwise it will be a constant element of our relationship.
Hypersexuality is a must otherwise you won't be able to keep up. Ideally at this point you're already gooning yourself multiple times a day, or at least thinking about it as much, and want someone to help you indulge in your deepest, darkest desires. I'm into open monogamy as I don't like sharing my partner emotionally, but I love watching my dirty little slut get used by others and also producing content to show off what a good little whore you are for your Daddy! I'm very open minded when it comes to kink and will try most things. Kinks I'm interested in are D/s dynamics in any form so Dom/Daddy/Mastesub/little/slave/pet, and of course rules and discipline to go along with it. Also, free use, anal/training, orgasm control (denial, edging, forced, overstimulation), bondage, impact play, spanking, hair pulling, choking, slapping, spitting, exhibitionism, bimbo/dollification, creampies, threesomes/gangbangs, hotwife, public play, 1950's housewife, roping, candle/hot wax, huge insertions (dildos/fisting), pussy pumps, nipple clamps, collar, leash, gags, sensory deprivation, some water sports, and probably a few others I forgot to mention. Limits are scat, blood, gore/mutilation, vomit, and permanent damage/scars. These are by no means a requirement, but top 3 would be anal, freeuse, and sharing.
That's the lifestyle me... vanilla me is easy going and I'm very big on respect, consent, boundaries, and communication. I strive to be a supportive partner and will help provide structure and encourage you to work toward your goals in life. I lean left politically, but I don't like being judgmental of others. I'm into nerdy stuff like sci-fi, fantasy, anime, Star Wars, LOTR, Marvel/DC, etc. I enjoy gaming, hiking, concerts, and being outside when the weather is nice. I like going out for a night of fun or staying in for a cozy night cuddled up in front of the TV. I'm sober so no daily stoners or heavy drinkers. I'm also a big mental health advocate and strongly believe in the value of therapy so I'm happy to provide emotional support and mentorship for anyone whom has struggles of that nature.
Send me a chat if you think you're worthy of being my sub. I respond best to an eager, attentive sub that likes to communicate regularly and consistently. I appreciate women of all ages (18+) and body types, attitude and personality are what matter most, but attraction is important so, please, be willing to share a SFW pic during our initial conversation and I'll do the same.

This is my headcanon for the events following Suzerain as the game played out in my (communist) playthrough:
Disclaimer 1: This obviously includes many spoilers from the game.
Disclaimer 2: This story is written with storytelling and lore at the forefront, not necessarily gameplay accuracy.
Disclaimer 3: This is only the first chapter (and backstory) of this headcanon story/fanfic/whatever you want to call it. I want to write more, but would like to see what people in the Suzerain community think about the writing so far and if they’d like to see more of it. :)
(Part 1 is on my page if you cannot find it elsewhere)

Chapter 1: Inauguration Day (Continuation)

Serge had always been one for praise as long as Anton had known him, but it seemed to be out of sheer admiration and trust, unlike the usual political suck-up. It was definitely appreciated praise, but somewhat uncomfortable in a way, as Anton wasn’t used to such high praise from politicians, and was a little afraid all the compliments would bloat his ego. Though he rarely vocally disagreed with Serge’s remarks, as a president shouldn’t appear doubtful of their abilities. That was one of the many rules Anton had learned to follow as a president. He didn’t like it, yet it had still become almost second nature to him by now, something that also concerned him quite a bit.
“Thank you for your trust in me Serge. It truly means a lot.” Serge smiled through the rear-view mirror once more before replying “Thank you Mr. President for setting such a great example for the people of this nation.” Anton knew it would be impossible to beat Serge in a humility contest, so he conceded with his usual reply “You are too kind, Serge.” Before long they were off, and it didn’t take them as long as they’d thought to get back to the hill of pride, as the traffic had wound down along with the day. As the car headed up the long and winding road that led to the maroon palace through capitol park Anton noticed the palace gates were open and the driveway was filled with journalists, as opposed to the politicians and oligarchs usually present at the previous inauguration events. As Serge entered the car into the driveway, the journalists made way for the car to park next to the small row of black sedans and limos that had brought the rest of the night’s dinner guests to the palace.
Serge quickly stopped the engine and exited the car to open Anton’s door. As he did so, Anton was met with the now familiar camera flashes and the sounds of journalists speaking over each other to the point of near incomprehension. “Mr. President” started a young woman in a sharp azure pantsuit, holding a microphone up to the President’s lips. “There have been a lot of concerns voiced by the opposition after you used the phrase ‘Sordish Revolution’ at your rally. Is the opposition correct that this is an indication of political violence being endorsed by the presidency?” Anton noticed the ‘Lachaven Times’ label on the woman’s microphone before replying to her question. “No. Revolution does not mean violence. Revolution means that this country has problems, and we need radical and rapid change to address those issues.”
“Mr. President, one more question. This revolution outburst, as well as your administration’s close association with communism and United Contana, has brought fear to the hearts of many business owners in Sordland. Do you plan to completely nationalise our nation’s economy, and will business owners be compensated for the loss of the fruits of their labour? Anton briefly chuckled before opening his mouth to reply. Before he could do so however, he saw a hand cover the woman’s microphone. “The President will not be answering any more questions as of now.” Ranye looked left and saw his newly appointed Vice President, Lucian, looking as stern as ever. He took his other hand on Anton’s back, leading him away from the flock of journalists, into the maroon palace.
As they moved inside, there were still a large amount of journalists, although not as many as there were outside. These journalists however, knew better than to try and approach the President, as Lucian’s glare was warning enough. “It’s good to have you here Mr. President. We’ve already set up everything in the dining room upstairs, both for the dinner itself and the televising of the event. Your wife insisted on waiting on you in your office. It would be good for the press to be able to get pictures of you two together, so I would advise you to go get her so you can welcome the dinner guests together.” Anton now noticed his Vice President was wearing a tuxedo, as were many of the male journalists and camera crew. “Knowing you, there is already a tuxedo in my office as well.” Lucian nodded. “Thank you. I’ll go get ready.”
As the President and Vice President separated, it did not take long before Anton found himself in conversation again, while on his way to his office. This time with the director of the Sordish Radio and Television Supreme Council that Anton had founded during his first administration. In fact this was Anton’s first time meeting the director of the council, as Lucian was the one who appointed him. “Mr. President, it’s an honour to meet you. Damien Ves, at your service.” The stocky and wide man grabbed Anton’s hand and shook it. “It’s a pleasure to finally be able to meet with you Mr. Ves. Lucian told me you’d be in charge of today’s broadcast.” Anton began to increase his pace, which Damien attempted to duplicate. “Yes, it's all very exciting. It will be like you’re having dinner with the entire country! This new technology is amazing!”
“Yes, truly amazing. If you’ll excuse me I have to go get ready. It was nice meeting you.” Anton entered his office and closed the door with a sigh. Before being able to look around the room, he was ambushed by a hug from his daughter Deana. “Papa! You’re finally here!” Anton looked down at his daughter, who looked tired from the eventful day. “How did you like the rally sweetheart?” asked Anton as he got down on one knee to be eye-level with Deana. “There were so many people! Mama talked to so many of them. She talked a lot about exploitation. What is exploitation Papa?”
Before Anton could think of how he was going to explain that to his daughter, Monica came up behind her and picked her up. “Alright, let your papa at least get inside properly before you start asking him harder questions than the journalists outside.” Anton followed his wife into the room as she plopped down Deana on the couch. Only then was he able to see how beautiful his wife looked in her elegant scarlet dress. The only thing he could fathom doing was kissing her, and as he did, she pulled away. “Later. Now you have to get ready. It’s nearly seven.” Before going to the bathroom in his office to change, Anton took a last look at his wife as she started doing Deana’s hair. “You look absolutely gorgeous, honey.” Monica gave her husband a warm smile and a wink back as a reply.
Anton entered the office bathroom, where a tuxedo hung from the door on a hanger. It looked old, yet well-maintained. Its white bowtie and waistcoat, coupled with a long tailcoat reminded Anton of the similar suits worn by the wealthiest students during his time at university in the 1920s. As he put on the tuxedo and started adjusting it, he found a note in the left-hand pocket on the tailcoat.
It read “Anton, as you read this, getting ready for the start of your next term, know that the people of Sordland have reaffirmed their trust in you, and it is your duty to not let them down. This suit belonged to my father, and he used it for events just like the one you’re about to go to all the time when he was president. When he fell, Sordland became cursed with two despots, who ignored the cries of the weak. I believe that you have the power to break that curse, as evident by your first term. I believe that you are the only one who might be able to stop this curse now. But only if you keep true to yourself and your ideals, don’t let the world of politics suck you in too much. Don’t forget that you are where you are to serve the people. Not the powerful, but the weak. Good luck my old student and good friend. -Deivid Wisci.”
Anton had very fond memories of his mentor Deivid Wisci, both as his professor, and as his minister of foreign affairs. The day he retired was a sad day for Sordland. Although he definitely deserved a retirement, after all the good he had done, Anton thought to himself. He put the note back in his pocket and adjusted his bowtie for the final time. Before leaving the bathroom however, he remembered to take the pocket watch he was gifted by Serge from the breast-pocket of his usual attire. He placed it in the breast-pocket of his new tailcoat, slicked back his jet black hair, and headed out of the bathroom. “Ready?” Monica and Deana were sitting on the couch patiently waiting. “Yes, let’s go.” Anton reached out his hand to escort Monica out. As she put her hand into his, he kissed her hand before the pair proceeded out of the office along with Deana.
The Rayne family made their way into the maroon palace’s dining room, where the camera crew had already started filming. Anton and his family took their place in the lounge area that decorated the backdrop for the dining table, where the Rayne cabinet slowly started to assemble to be welcomed by Anton and Monica. First was Lucian who, to nobody’s surprise, came alone. He came up to Anton and shook his hand, followed by that of Monica’s, while Deana tried to hide slightly behind her mother. Lucian took his seat in the lounge, making sure to sit as close to Anton as he could.
He was soon followed by the equally lonesome minister of defence, Iosef Lancea. Unlike nearly every man present in the maroon palace however, Iosef came in his regular military attire, as opposed to a tuxedo, or even a regular suit. Although Anton was unsure, he might’ve added a few medals to his uniform for the occasion. He saluted the President and First Lady, to which Anton replied with an adequate, but not nearly as impressive salute. He took his seat next to Lucian, and they started the obligatory small-talk that was expected of them as dinner guests.
At last came the minister of agriculture, Gus Manger, who was accompanied by his wife and son. They walked up to the President’s family, where Gus proceeded to shake Monica’s hand, while his wife greeted Anton. They then switched places, and Anton welcomed Gus and his family to the palace, and to the dinner. Gus then took his seat beside Iosef, promptly followed by his wife and son. Anton didn’t know much about Gus’ family, however his son somewhat reminded him of Franc, albeit a few years younger. The boy didn’t seem that excited to be here, understandably enough. It seemed as though Monica had noticed the same thing, as she faintly pulled on her husband’s arm, gesturing to him to lead everyone to their seats at the table.
As he was about to do just that, the doors to the eastern wing of the room swung open one more time. It was Ciara. She was wearing an off-white dress, surprisingly similar in shade to the bathrobe she’d worn earlier today, though obviously much more classy. Monica gave Anton’s hand a slight squeeze as she noticed her friend. Anton looked towards a smiling Monica, and gave her a grin back. “You managed to get her to rejoin your cabinet?” Anton smiled even wider “It was a hard task, but I think you had a lot to do with it.” Ciara walked up to Monica and shook her hand, bowing slightly as she did it. She turned to Anton and shook his hand, though not with as much vigour as with Monica. “Mr. President.” “Ms. Walda. Welcome.”
When the rest of the guests noticed Ciara, Iosef flung up out of his seat, looking positively resentful. “What is she doing here? Didn’t you resign you-” Lucian quickly got out of his seat and put his hand on Iosef’s shoulder, or at least as far as he could get to the shoulder of the colossal man. Iosef turned his head sharply and scowled at Lucian, prompting him to remove his hand and gesture to Damien, who was behind the camera, making sure our conversation was out of range for the camera to pick up on. Iosef turned to Anton “Mr. President, with all due respect, did you really invite this woman back to your cabinet after her treacherous resignation?!” Anton had noticed the tension between Iosef and Ciara the few times they’d been in the same room together, and it was clear they were good at pressing each other’s buttons, intentionally or not. Iosef must’ve been glad when she resigned. For her to come back unannounced must’ve been seen as a big middle finger to not just Iosef, but Lucian as well, as Anton hadn’t discussed it with him either. But Lucian, unlike Iosef, knew how to act like a politician, and wouldn’t risk his career for a televised outburst.
“Iosef, with all due respect, I am your superior. We need people in our cabinet, and may I remind you that this event is currently being televised.” Anton stared at Iosef in a way he’d never done before. It was actually quite satisfying for Anton to be able to speak to Iosef like that, as he had real experience on how Iosef treated his subordinates from his time in the army. Iosef mumbled something before speaking up “Of course Mr. President. I am sorry.” Anton could actually see Iosef’s eye visibly twitch as he mouthed that last part. “Good, then we’ll be seated. Follow me everyone, right this way.” President Rayne led the dinner guests towards the table, where Deana and Gus’ son were seated first, followed by Ciara, Monica and Gus’ wife, the two latter of whom were seated by their husbands respectively. After which the rest of the cabinet, along with Anton took their seats.
The camera panned to look directly at Anton, who would deliver his post-inauguration speech to the nation. “Brothers and sisters, today has been a great day, not just for myself, not just for the USP, but for our nation. You have reaffirmed your support for me as your President, as a conduit for the will of the people. In doing so you have reaffirmed your trust in our nation, our collective passion to make the lives of others better. Because that is what a nation is. A nation is a band of people who share a home, and who are passionate enough to help each other and push each other forward to greater things. It is a sentiment to collectivism and what we can accomplish when we band together and fight for each other, with compassion and solidarity. That is what we are, we are brothers and sisters. No matter if you are a sord or blud, man or woman, eight or eighty. If you live in Sordland, your neighbours are your brothers and sisters, together you hold this nation on your backs through your trust and your belief that together we can make the world a better place. United we stand, divided we fall. A Morgna wes core, vectern sis da!”
The camera panned away from Anton’s face but continued filming the dining table. Everyone seated applauded Anton’s speech. He raised his wine glass, which had already been filled prior to everyone being seated. “I’d also like to raise a toast. To Bernard Circas. We sit here, on the four year anniversary of the tragic end of his great life. His words moved millions, and continue to move millions more after his death. He inspired love, compassion and hope. He dreamed of a better Sordland, one where we were free of exploitation and united in proletarian solidarity.” There were mixed reactions across the table, but mainly looks of disagreement. Anton continued nonetheless. “Bernard was killed for his beliefs. After a long investigation the main culprits are finally behind bars, but this does not solve the deeper issue. Fascism. The scourge that kept Bernard’s dream from being realised is what killed him, and he will have died in vain if we do not take that threat seriously, and do what we can to rid this country of the fascism that wants to tear it apart. It was only Bernard who would have the words to give us the hope we need, but while he is gone, his spirit remains, and it remains to give us the willpower we need to do what we can to make sure nothing like what happened four years ago ever happens again. To Bernard, our only strength is the will to survive.”
After Anton finished he took a sip of his bitter wine and sat the glass back down, followed by everyone else. Iosef mumbled something again, but as Anton briefly looked towards Damien, it looked like the speech, and following toast, had been a hit with him and the rest of the camera crew. “Well said Mr. President '' said Lucian, before taking another sip of his wine. A moment later, the chef, a tall and lanky young man, came out followed by servers bearing plates of food. “For the first course we have prepared…” The next few hours flew by as Anton was bored senseless by the conversations, or lack thereof, between the “strictly-work-talk” Vice President, traditionalist minister of defence, radical minister of education, and anrican capitalist minister of agriculture. After hours of dull conversation and several courses, all representing a different region of Sordland, the dinner was finally over and the broadcast finished off with a speech from the first lady. Anton felt bad, being too tired to properly listen to Monica’s speech, although it seemed to have a similar effect on the guests as Anton’s speech did. As the applause following her speech died down, the broadcast was shut off, and nearly everyone in the room let out a sigh of relief, including Anton and Monica.
Anton stood up, and was followed by the rest of the table. The presidential couple bid farewell to their guests as nearly everyone left. As Anton, Monica and Deana were getting ready to go change and head home, Anton was approached by Damien who wanted to have a few words before leaving.
“It was a wonderful broadcast Mr. President!” he said with a fake enthusiasm. Damien knew the basics of political intrigue, but had yet to grasp the subtle art of lying convincingly. Anton simply replied “Thank you, Mr. Ves, you did very well yourself managing the production.'' Unlike Damien, Anton bore no attempt to show his lack of interest in the conversation, as he slowly started making his way out of the dining room area of the palace. “Thank you Mr. President, you honour me!.” he nervously paused for few seconds before continuing “Mr. President, would you please consider having a meeting with me later this week.” “Whenever you have the time!” blurted out the nervous, and now slightly sweaty, man. “I’d be glad to have a meeting with you Damien. In fact I was planning on having one with you anyway, to discuss the goals and strategies of the commission going forward.” Anton again started walking a bit faster, trying to get out of the conversations with the hippo-like man. “How does tuesday 9:30 sound?” Damien struggled to keep up with the President, making him sweat even more profusely as he panted out a reply “Wonderful! Great! Thank you Mr.Presdi..Ray..” He stopped for a second to catch his breath “Thank you Mr. President!” he shouted down the hallway as the President hurried back into his office.
“Why do such social events seem to drain me more than dull meetings about infrastructure development?” joked Anton as he walked into his office to greet his wife. “It wasn’t that bad, I had quite the interesting conversation with Ciara and Erica.” Anton looked confused for a moment before Monica elaborated. “Gus’ wife. Erica Manger.” She sat down on the couch next to a half asleep Deana. “Ah! And what did she have to say?” inquired Anton, loosening his bowtie as he said it. “She was surprisingly supportive of our participation in politics, considering she’s from Anrica, like Gus.” Anton sat next to his wife, wrapping his arm around her before answering. “Well not everyone in Anrica is exactly Curtan Leste. You know he’s been losing a lot of support in the city ever since his stunt in Benfi, interrupting your speech like that.” Monica looked out the window to the view of capitol park. “Still, even with the waning influence of the old guard, both him and Gloria Tory have become increasingly popular with the conservatives now that Soll, Graff, Hawker and the like are all in prison. They are still a real threat, now with even more concentrated support.” Anton stood up and walked over to the window, now looking at dusk settling over the park as well. “I know.” he paused for a second. “We still have a lot of work ahead of us.”
The couple stood there for a few minutes in silence, enjoying a peaceful moment together while contemplating the future. After a while, however, they decided they best head home for the day. They went into the office bathroom to get changed again. After doing so, Anton took his sleeping daughter in his arms and the three of them exited the maroon palace. They had stayed there so long that all the journalists had gotten tired of waiting for them and gone home. The courtyard of the palace was all but empty, aside from a few guards, and of course, the Rayne family’s loyal driver. Serge opened the backseat door for the family to get in the car, where they were able to relax for the long drive home in the quiet of the night.
The new Valgslandian presidential car was slowly making its way towards the presidential residence built during the Alphonso presidency. It was a modern home, inspired by the works of some Arcasian architects. While Anton certainly disagreed with Alphonso about a lot, and despised Arcasia, he had to admit it was a pretty nice home. As he sat in the car he dreamt about getting home and being able to jump into bed after such a long day, and from the looks of it, Monica was thinking about the same thing.
They were driving past a newly built secondary school, Circas Secondary, that was built as part of Anton and Ciara’s education program during the first term. Anton’s mind drifted from the architecture of his own home to the architecture of this school, and was suddenly filled with pride, being able to see the material results of his work as president. He was admiring the building’s large gymnasium when suddenly the white walls of the pristine building turned a fiery orange hue, followed by a loud “BANG!”. Before they could comprehend what had happened the car had been flipped on its head and the glass from the windows shattered. Deana immediately woke up in panic and started crying. Anton was able to get to her quickly, and shield her and Monica. They sat there together in the wreck of the car for what felt like minutes, not being able to move out of pure shock, before they heard a series of coughs followed by the voice of their driver “Anton, Monica, Deana. Are you okay?!” Anton managed to muster a response despite his distress. “I think so Serge. How about you?”
As he felt a hand grab him by the collar of his coat, Serge replied “Don’t worry about me, we need to get out of here!” Before Anton could respond he felt his collar tighten around his neck as he was slowly dragged out of the car wreck along with his wife and daughter. When they were all out of the car Anton opened his eyes to find he was lying on the pavement, looking up at Serge who was examining the family for any serious injuries. He then heard the sound of sirens in the distance, and noticed the night looked very bright. He looked to his right and saw the cause of this brightness, the school was on fire. At least what was left of the school. There was rubble everywhere, it had been blown to pieces. He looked back up at Serge, with the starry night sky behind him. Hints of flashing red and blue lights began to appear as Anton’s eyes began to shut and the night became darker. The previously clear voice of his driver became muffled, as he heard cars approaching and the sound of doors being shut. Before passing out, he felt someone lift him up and put his body onto something soft, followed by the sound of doors being shut again.
To be continued.

On the second page is the original. Im sorry of the lines are wonky i did this on a white board so its a bit diffrent from my art style. (I struggled at amane too much f his hair and hand. Also sorry for the many qatermarks i ho by too many names online)

While I was a teen I used to have a goth/emo clothing style (depends on the day) and as I grew in uni I also started having late Victorian and Edwardian era style in the mix… I used to have the fluffy alternative hairstyle but as I grew I didn’t have time to style and maintain it so I just grew off the fringe and stopped putting hairspray on it but I kept the highlights. The last time I visited my mum, she got rid of all the black clothes I brought home and replaced them all with (albeit beautiful but definitely not dresses I feel comfortable in) bright-coloured short dresses. She has been pestering me to cut my hair into a more professional length (right now they are a bit passed hip length, thick and healthy though not as shiny as they once were).
When she came to my place she was also looking for any black makeup I had but I had hid them all.
She told me now that I am in my early twenties i need to start dressing up like the other women. I still have some solutions to not feel overwhelmed with the dress she brought me (matching color chokers, still got my highlights etc…) but I don’t know if I have to indeed let go of my hair and alternative styles or still embrace it.

Hello, So I’m a bit conflicted on whether i should get a retwist before i go on holiday.
My last retwist was a bit over a month ago which was a protective style. However, when i took out that style i also rinsed my hair and it’s come out a bit frizzy but nothing unbearable
I started my locs in January and right now my hair is in it’s budding stage.
I plan on going on Holiday in July but i’m not sure on whether I should retwist my hair before i go, and the thing i’m worried about is if water does end up in my hair would it ruin the retwist?
I hope you can all help me
Thank you

This is the first Gloryhammer album that released since I became a fan of the band after seeing them support Power wolf in 2019, so naturally I spent hours listening to every song numerous times the past few days! Here is my (subjective) top 10 of them!
Keep in mind, you'll probably disagree with a lot of the points I make here! In that case, feel free to share your thoughts below or go here!

1. Incoming Transmission - I probably shouldn't really be counting it because it's an intro track, but then this would a top 9 which isn't as cool. Overall pretty good intro, I'd put it on par with the Terrorvortex one.
   
2. Holy Flaming Hammer of Unholy Cosmic Frost - THIS is where the controversies begin. My beef with this song is that it's in my opinion underwhelming as an opener. When you take the openers of any of the previous albums, they do an incredible job of immediately showing you the chaos of war and what the general setting of the album is going to be. Unicorn Invasion perfectly emulated the vibe of the complete destruction of a once proud city and the ensuing bloodshed. Chaos Wizards immediately start the album by annihilating the Status Quo set by Furious Thunder and revive the biggest threat to the Galaxy - now in Space! In Siege of Dunkeld we literally follow Angus as he arrives in a literal warzone and desperately trying to survive most of the song. Holy Flaming Hammer kind of sets the scene by the end of the guitar solo, but I think the whole song would have benefitted if that feeling of dread was present throughout the whole thing. Overall not a bad song, just, in my opinion, a slightly underwhelming opener.
   
3. Brothers of Crail - It really felt wrong this song on spot 8., but that's the problem with this album - there really are no bad songs on it. Having said that, I chose Brothers of Crail out of my candidates for this spot mainly because there isn't anything that would make me think, "wow, that's amazing". It's a very good song. The verses are catchy, the chorus is beautiful, and it's got a reference to Hail to Crail. Not much more to say about it.
   
4. Fife Eternal - Much like Brothers of Crail, it's a very good song in a way that it's easy to understand and is built very well. You have a clear image of what's happening and it's supported by the vibe of the song. Put it above Crail because it shows the whole gang getting ready to kick ass, which is cool.
   
5. Vorpal Laserblaster of (checks title) Pittenweem - Very fast, very powerful, very good. It might be the fastest song of Gloryhammer yet, and it's done very well. Kinda reminds me of Wizardthrone. Also the twist at the end is amazing.
   
6. Imperium Dundaxia - I think this song would be a better opener for this album than Holy Hammer if there was a way to make it chronologically work. It shows perfectly what this album is about - Angus McFife II traversing through the nuclear wasteland and ruins of the kingdom he was supposed to be taking care of, with his only goal now to get his revenge on Zargothrax (and also stop him from releasing his clone). I would have liked the chorus to be a bit more sharp and aggressive to fit the vibe of the song better, but that might just be my personal preference. A REALLY good song.
   
7. Sword Lord of the Goblin Horde - This is one of those songs that show how beautiful Sozos' voice truly is. If this were recorded with anyone else, I'd probably not even put this song in my playlist. The robotic voice in the verses is also a magnificent touch to amplify the vibe. Very, very beautiful. I will also take this moment to appreciate how fun Chris and Mike make everything they write. I sometimes see people bitching and crying about how Gloryhammer somehow isn't special without the previous vocalist, but I will say this - Chris' (now with Mike's) songwriting is the heart and soul of the band. People have tried to emulate it, but I truly believe nothing can replace the sheer power of making shit up on the spot.
   
8. Maleficus Geminus - In musical terms, I'd say this is the best album ender. Amazing motives through and throughout make you feel terror all the way through, and you can't mention this song without acknowledging the long awaited DUN DUN double DUN DUN wizard. Like others, I am a bit on the fence about the very sudden conclusion of the story, but it's not like it ruins everything else this song has to offer. We were promised two wizards, we got two wizards. The song is glorious and terrifying.
   
9. Wasteland Warrior Hoots Patrol - I mean, it's a Hootsman song, there's no possible way it could ever be bad. I love how Sozos put on a very growly voice in this one just to prove he could and then never did it again. Absoluty chad behaviour. The main melody might be the best motive of the whole album. And, of course, A SAX SOLO. This song is the perfect example of how going "ah, fuck it" when songwriting can create absolute milestones in your bands history. This is the perfect theme song for the Hootsman.
   
10. Keeper of the Celestial Flame of Abernethy - Whenever I first heard this song, I was rest assured knowing that Gloryhammer's future shines bright. This is Gloryhammer.
    

Rayla’s beautiful purple eyes blinked slowly open as she regained consciousness. Her vision swam and her head still rang from the blow that had knocked her senseless.
Suddenly, Rayla’s eyes widened as she remembered what had happened; the two pig-faced humanoids who had ambushed her and Stella.
The Moonshadow Elf tried to get up, but found that her arms were still chained, though no longer behind her back; rather they were now chained to even longer chains attached to the ceiling, lifting her arms above her head. Rayla twisted and wriggled, grunting and groaning as she tried to break free. But it was no use; the chains were too strong. All Rayla succeeded in doing was making a jingling and chinking noise as the chains rattled with her struggles.
Suddenly, Rayla heard something; a deep, booming laugh that echoed all around her. “HO, HO, HO!”
Rayla looked up and saw that she was in a large, stone room, surrounded by all sorts of the strangest and foulest creatures she had ever seen in her life; more pig-faced humanoids, blue creatures with big black eyes and elephant-like trunks, brown-skinned humanoids with tentacles on their faces.
But of all the creatures there was one that caught her attention the most. It was a huge, fat, greenish, slimy, slug-like creature that sat upon a dais. The slug had a huge reptilian yellow eyes and an enormous mouth that drooled with yellowish-green saliva. It was this slug that was laughing.
“Wakey, wakey, little elf!” The slug said.
Rayla stared at the slug in a mixture of disgust and fascination. She had never seen a slug that big, let alone one that could TALK.
“Greeting, Moonshadow Elf,” said the slug. “Welcome to my castle.”
Trying to remain calm in spite of her dire circumstances, Rayla put on a snarky face and asked the slug, “What are you supposed to be?”
The slug looked insulted for a moment, but then said, his voice radiating arrogance and vanity. “Oh, of course, where are my manners? I am Jabba the Hutt, ruler of this castle, and who might you be?”
“I am Rayla of the Moonshadow elves,” she replied without really thinking about it.
“Rayla,” Jabba repeated her name, as though testing it. “A beautiful name for a beautiful female.”
Rayla flinched. Jabba was staring at her with an almost HUNGRY look in his huge eyes.
“Congratulations, Rayla,” Jabba said. “You are the first Moonshadow elf to be my honored guest, and the first to be added to my collection.”
Collection? Rayla thought in bewilderment and mounting fear.
Jabba went on. “You see, Rayla, I the mighty Jabba, collect beautiful women, and you will be the latest addition. Show yourselves, my pretties,” he added commandingly.
One by one, six women emerged from behind Jabba. Three of them were humans; two white and one black. The other three were elves; two Sunfire elves and one Skywing elf. And Skywing elf happened to be…
“Nyx?!” Rayla gasped, her purple eyes widening in shock, surprise, and pity.
A slim female Skywing elf with broad hips and a purple-blue hued skin tone, Nyx had bi-colored eyes, golden on the right and cyan on the left, as well as dark purple lips. Her nose, forehead, and cheek area were marked by a lighter colored symbol, unlike the rest of her body. While her feathered wings, which were located on her lower back, appeared in a wine red tone, her hair transitioned from a white to a light blue hue, over a cyan color into a dark blue. Her hairstyle consisted of thick side bangs which were each brushed to a different side, long strands in front, and a messy backside. A set of two different horns was placed on the top and side of her head, the upper ones being small and brown and the lower ones being bent and white.
When Rayla had last seen Nyx, she was dressed in a white and light blue shirt, thin dark brown jacket with white sleeves, woven leather bracers, gray leggings with light blue features, and tall, gray thigh-high boots. But now, Nyx was dressed only in a flimsy fishnet costume that left almost no part of her body unexposed to view. She also wore a silver collar around her neck. The collar was attached to a long, metal chain that was attached to Jabba’s throne. Further, there was another chain attached to Nyx’s leg. This chain was attached to a heavy weight to further prevent her from flying.
All of the other girls were scantily-clad too; they wore leather strappings or harem outfits. They wore collars too.
Rayla knew instantly what these girls were. They were slave girls; slaves to this evil slug called ‘Jabba the Hutt.’
Rayla couldn’t take her eyes off Nyx. She hadn’t liked Nyx AT ALL, but couldn’t help but feel sorry for the state she was in; a slave, forced to expose so much of herself before Jabba’s evil eyes.
Then, Rayla realized what Jabba had meant by ‘adding her to his collection.’ He was going to make her his newest slave girl!
Jabba was still eyeing Rayla with hideous delight and interest. He had collected and disposed of countless beautiful women, both humans and elves, throughout his life, but Rayla was the first ever Moonshadow Elf he had ever captured. She would indeed be a fine addition to his harem. She was only a teenager, but she was already a fine specimen; slim-bodied and smooth-skinned. He was going to enjoy breaking her.
“If you think for one moment I become your slave, you are dead wrong, slug!” Rayla snapped, glaring at Jabba in disgust.
Jabba laughed. “Such a funny accent you have, my pretty.”
“I have NOT your pretty! And my accent is NOT funny!” Rayla snarled.
Everyone except the slave girls laughed at Rayla’s defiance.
Jabba looked at Rayla with lustful hunger. Rayla glared at him, trying not to show fear, only anger and defiance.
“My pretty,” Jabba said. “I admire your resistance, but you will obey me and be my pet, or else.”
“Or else what?” Rayla asked sarcastically.
Jabba grinned, his huge eyes glowing maliciously. “Or else your pet will die.”
Jabba raised his slimy hand and a tall, broad-shouldered Gamorrean stepped forward. He was holding Stella, Rayla’s beloved cuddlemonkey, in his huge green hands!
“Stella!” Rayla cried, her purple eyes widening. She jumped up and tried to run to her adopted primate daughter, but the chains binding her arms held her back. “Let her go!” Rayla yelled at Jabba.
Jabba laughed. “HO, HO, HO! My dear, pointy-eared girl, you are in no position to make demands. Either you will do as I bid, or your precious monkey will DIE.” He gestured to the guard and he began to squeeze Stella in his huge, green fist, choking her. The cuddlemonkey wriggled and gagged, trying to break free, but the pig-faced humanoid was too strong.
Stella’s choking cries pierced Rayla’s ears. “Stop! Please!” She begged.
Jabba grinned and laughed in satisfaction, and then waved his hand. The guard loosened his grip on Stella, enough for her to breath, but not enough for her to escape.
“Good girl,” Jabba said mockingly. “Do you agree to do whatever I say, in exchange for your pet’s life?”
Rayla looked at Jabba and then at Stella as two fierce instincts battled inside of her. Every fiber of her being wanted to defy this foul slug, but she also desperately wanted to save Stella, whom she loved not as a pet, but as a daughter.
“Fine,” Rayla growled at last. “I will do as you ask. Just don’t hurt Stella.”
“Good girl,” Jabba mocked again, his eyes gleaming with sick pleasure. He waved a dismissive hand to the guard. “Take the monkey away. Watch it, but don’t hurt it.”
The guard nodded and walked off, carrying Stella. Rayla watched, feeling more distressed than she had in months. She hoped no one would hurt Stella.
“Please, unchain her,” Jabba ordered. Two guards went over to Rayla and removed the chains binding her hands to the ceiling. For a split second, Rayla considered making a run for it, but she almost immediately rejected the unspoken idea. She knew she couldn’t escape without her weapons, and if she made any wrong moves Stella would get hurt.
Rayla stood up and faced Jabba, feeling more furious and helpless than she had felt in years. “So, what do you want me to do, you slimy slug?” She asked sarcastically.
“First,” Jabba said. “You will address me as ‘Master,’ slave and you will speak only when you are spoken to, understand?”
“Sure, master,” Rayla said sardonically.
Jabba ignored the sarcasm in Rayla’s tone. “Good elf,” he cooed. “How old are you?"
"Eight... eighteen," Rayla stammered, somehow surprised by the question.
"I see," Jabba said thoughtfully. "Good elf. Now, take off your clothes.”
... to be continued...

It was Greek Philosopher Heraclitus who said "The only constant in life is change," basically meaning everything in nature changes and nothing is permanent - whether it's your preferences in taste, your circumstances, or all of life itself... but what if there's something that never really changes? I argue that our own individual nature never truly changes, whether you acknowledge it consciously or unconsciously.
Take the characters of House M.D. and Bojack Horseman for example. Both Dr House and Bojack are portrayed throughout the entire show as miserable drug addicts, while other characters like Cuddie and Princess Caroline stay as workaholics, always obsessed with successing in motherhood. What makes it more tragic (and arguably more realistic) is that we see the characters actually try to change; House and Bojack both go to rehab to mend their addictions, but sook relapse; both try relationships and both fail; it seems no matter how hard they try, they end up back at square one.
When I say "change" I don't mean things like having a child, or getting married, etc. I only refer to our nature, whether hidden away or not. Both characters try to be nicer, or stay sober, or achieve happiness, but they both come to the realisation that painting smiles and healthier life styles on them can only be applied on the outer layers of themselves; the illusion of the outside they fall into, thus distracting them from the inside, or holding it off.
When confronted with their nature, House hears he has to stay the miserable drug addict he is because he can't "lose the unique connections that make him a successful doctor", so it seems he's more accepting of this, whereas Bojack is terrified of himself. Always saying "I can't change" and "I'm poison" he questions "Am I just doomed to be the person I am?"
Philosopher William James can be applied here, explaining that for people like Bojack and Dr House, their "principle of human nature is the craving to be appreciated." Which they both seem to have. House wants to be appreciated for his "unique connections" of always being right and treating the disease, and Bojack wants to be appreciated for his success as an actor and his (up and down) reputation. Both seem to grasp so desperately at their few redeeming qualities, thus paying less attention to the qualities that make them otherwise irredeemable.
They seem to be addicted to their redeeming qualities, as it gives them pleasure, and disregard any underlying issues like selfishness and hurting other people in the process of grasping for these redeeming qualities, because they find it so hard to confront and change them. It's like the pills and alcohol they take; they get hooked, they can't stop, and when they do try to change, they relapse and go back to square one.
Therefore, our inner human nature is not prone to change at all in life if we become addicted to our good attributes and byproducts, while also paying little attention to the side effects of that addiction in order to uphold the values and redeeming qualities we find in ourselves.

Reposted from r\entitledpeople after someone suggested it would be enjoyed here.
I apologise for any typos - I'm on the phone and my autocorrect is drunk on power.
So, a few years ago I was teaching a private urban religious college. Since I only had my MS, I was thankful for the opportunity to teach and get the experience before I moved on for my PhD.
The school usually had me teach accelerated night courses which were aimed on non-traditional learners (read: adults going back to school after many years off). I loved my students and had a blast teaching them. I had some issues with a few here and there, bit generally my experiences were really positive.
But there WAS this one couple. Let's call them Hanna and Larry.
That semester I had been asked to cover a more traditional course at the last minute. Rather than being accelerated, it met three times a week, for an hour, all semester.
Furthermore, the last was very small - only about four students. Which would have been fine; small classes can be great (and a paycheck was a paycheck!), if it hadn't been for Hanna and Larry.
You see, this couple had attendance issues to put it mildly. They would show up to a class or two and then just vanish for a week or more with no word. Just when I suspected they were gone for good, they'd show up, usually with sole excuse or another (medical issues, car problems, work, etc).
At first I tried to be sympathetic - I always have the attitude that life happens, and when it rains it pours sometimes. But at a certain point, I began to grow a bit suspicious they were selling me a story (okay, I was immediately suspicious, but I'm usually inclined to let things slide to a certain point. Same as MY profs did for me).
This was all the worse because of the small nature of the class. Every time I did prep for a session, assuming all four would be present, they'd skip and throw my plans off. But when I just accepted they would be gone, and prepare activities for two students, they'd show up.
All of this would be frustrating but acceptable if it weren't for two things. 1) whenever they showed up, these two would have an attitude about them and just expect everyone to conform to their presence and bend to their will and 2) they - of course - weren't doing any of the work.
And these two factors came to a head as Hanna (who was the louder and more confident of the two of them) would all but demand extensions, the ability to hand in late work, etc. I'd give them, only for both her and Larry to blow the work off again.
I like to be pretty accommodating to my students, within reason, but it quickly became obvious thst Hanna thought she was playing me and could grt whatever she wanted. And THAT couldn't stand. I have some level of pride and hate being seen as pushover.
Now, I could have crushed them immediately and just said "no more late work." But I was sure Hanna would just throw a fit and go to administration. I knew the admin would back me up, but it was a hassle I really didn't want (I was working on a second MS at this point and working two other jobs. I was frothing-at-the-mouth busy at that point and hadn't even planned on teaching thst semester. I only agreed because they needed me).
And besides, I'm a pretty easy-going guy, but I do have my limits. I was pissed at this point, but I also have a wicked (to me) sense of humor. Hanna wants to think she has me wrapped around her finger? Okay, let her think that. I was gonna hand her enough rope to hang herself with.
So, for the past few weeks, whenever she asked for an extension, I'd smile, and say "sure." And then chuckle when nothing came in. Every time, I wrote her and Larry emails, reminding them of the new date (getting things in writing is key, kids!).
And then we arrived at the final - I hadn't seen the twosome in a few sessions and was actually surprised to see them stumble in to take the test. They failed (of course), but whatcha gonna do. Hanna comes up to me in front of the class and asks for another extension.
I put my best "teacher voice" on and said I was disappointed. But fine. Life happens. However I was posting grades the next weekend, so the absolute last minute I would accept any late was Friday at 11:59 pm. The second it hit midnight, my books were closed. I asked if they both understood, and they summoned up a bit of solomness when they assured me that they did.
Good. I confirmed it in an email, and then sat back to grade the finals over the week (I mean, there were only four. It wasn't THAT much work!). I knew there was a risk they'd follow through and I'd end up with a semester's worth of work to grade - but I was feeling pretty confident that that wasn't going to happen at this point.
Friday night rolls around - I didn't work my other jobs that day, and my own school work was done. So I decided to buy a few beers and kick pack to play some video games and relax!
I look down at a certain point and realize that it's midnight. I open my email, remind everyone thst the books are now closed (If I give an extension, it's open to the whole class - I'm not playing favorites. Not that anyone else needed it). I cracked open another beer, let out my best super-villain laugh and went back to my game.
Sunday comes around and I'm posting the final grades for the semester. I usually hate failing students, but I admit i had a smile on my face as i assigned Hanna and Larry their well-deserved Fs.
TEN MINUTES after I hit 'save' for the grades I hear the familiar ba-ding of my email going off, followed by another. Now, who could this be?! It is, of course, Hanna and Larry.
Larry's email can best be summed up as "Oh my god, didn't you get my email with the work!? I sent it on Friday!"
Hanna's said the exact same thing.
Now, it's OBVIOUS they're thinking they can get another day or two to get the work this way. After all, hadn't I been so pliant and naive all semester? Oh, the fools, the fools, they've played right into my hands and this is the moment I've been waiting weeks for!
I double check to make sure I HADN'T missed emails from them, just to be safe (I hadnt), and then I type my response.
"No I didn't, and I did just double check after your last message. That's okay, emails get lost sometime."
At this point I like to image Larry smiling while reading this. He'd won again! God this Professor is an idiot!
I continued "So, what I'm going to need you to do is go back into the email you sent me with the work. Just take a screenshot which has the timestamp of the email and forward that to me along with the work. That'll prove you sent it on time."
I then responded to Hanna's email saying the same thing.
What was their response? Did their eyes widen as they realised they'd been held accountable for their actions? Did panic set in? Were their tears? Howls of Regret? The gnashing of teeth and rending of hair?
Sadly, I'll never know. I never heard from them again. They didn't even bother making another try.
And me? Well, I decided to buy some more beer that night to celebrate once again.
Occasionally I'll tell my current students the tale - a humorous reminded that 1) yes, I'm accommodating 2) yes, I'm pretty laid back. But 3) I'm not an idiot, and don't try to play me.
It usually gets a good laugh (and if some of those laughs sound a wee bit nervous? All the better).

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IUARP (Imperial Umbrella Administration Roleplay) Recruitment Team

HI! I'm looking for advice on what products / management methods to use on braids which will be kept underneath a wig. I am towards the beginning of my journey to reclaim my natural hair after years of heat damage and I am still unsure as to what products or information I may need to know before I start this.
Any names of youtubers / "influencers" would be additionally appreciated. I am aware that there are many pieces of advice on the internet however I'm mainly looking for advice from experienced people. Thank you so much in advance :)
(For context, my hair naturally sat at around 3C-4A).

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(masterpiece), realistic, (portrait of man), (((frame head))), pretty face, rosy skin, sunlight, cinematic light, curls, pretty man, pretty eyes, brown hair , perfect anatomy, very cute, prince eyes, (blue-colored eyes), centered image, stylized, bioluminescence, life size 8, 8k resolution, children's dress with red glitter details, human hands, full of wonder, elegant, close-up up to perfection, dynamic, highly detailed, character sheet, concept art, smooth, looking directly at the viewer positioned so her body is symmetrical and balanced, incredibly beautiful little white girl, detailed afro hairstyle,,
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