Clutch flush s2000 without jack

Timestamp: https://imgur.com/a/WrBNuBy
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WTTF Black River Tactical 16" Optimum Cold Hammer Forged Chrome Lined Barrel
Trade Value/Sale Value listed
//////////////////////// ITEM(S): ////////////////////////
- Kinesis Savant Elite2 Programmable Triple Foot Pedal (FP30AJ- with Extra 4th Jack): Great condition.
Use this to save your pinky from arthritis and program one of these pedals to L-Shift. That's what I used it for when I had more time for games. This thing is awesome. Each pedal can be programmed to any key. This has the software built into this for installation and setup. It also has rubber pads on the bottom so it won't move during use.
Sells for $205 New, Your Price/TV is $120

You win guys. I said I fucked up. Yeah, I sucked backing at night and bad weather. And while I made sure to be safe, and never got a traffic infraction, never sped, never tried to get on my exit at last minute, I guess I'm a danger on society. I hoped I'd at least fine advice, and genuine feedback, but was met with insults on this subreddit, and insults. You win, I'll quit trucking. Just let some steer wheel holder take my place, on his phone, blocking fuel islands, and turning without checking his mirrors. What bitterness I had has been replaced by spite. Enjoy a industry that doesn't give one fuck about you. Continued to be plagued by incompetent drivers, desk drivers who make up laws to screw you over, and a fractured unity between truckers. What you people see in this industry, I'll never know. For me, it was the freedom of the road, the new locations, and meeting a bunch of nice people. I'm done. Everything is out to get you, and God forbid that I fuck up, trying to teach myself how to truck, where those in the industry don't. Shit, port of NJ/NYC don't tell you jack shit.

Is it only necessary if you upshift slowly? If you barely remain in neutral, and upshift in one action, would double clutching be pointless or still recommended?

First Previous Wiki
Tanya patted Skira's drone.
"How's the war going?"
In his world, Skira was working to keep everything together. His bioships were in an all-out war with Aphid's forces. They were firing mostly kinetic weapons, typical bullets, and the like. Sometimes, they'd fire missiles, which could navigate the battlefield and clear the path for him to hit Aphid's vessels. The armor was getting thicker. But his guns were getting bigger.
On the surface, billions of metal drones clashed with trillions of fungal drones, all commanded by Skira and the Quadrants. He was constantly using war drones to push the major forces away from the tunnel complexes, setting up static defenses within using explosives and guns to absolutely ruin anything inside. Most of the planet had been flattened by nuclear weapons.
War drones continued to lob massive broken-off boulders at the carriers, which were continually landing to disgorge more enemy soldiers. Phoebe's androids, connected to their own network, were killing them by the tens of thousands every second, firing several bullets a second. Her androids were incredibly powerful, creating portions of the battlefield that Aphid had to steer around. And he didn't even try nuking her after she'd shot down eight of them with atmospheric anti-ship weapons.
From around the planet, portals appeared, pouring lasers and gunfire at Aphid's ships, then disappearing to reappear in other directions, continually wearing down their armor. Some of them were already falling back through the atmosphere, landing down on the earth below. Their burning and cracked hulls already littered the landscape, and he'd be sure to incorporate them once he fully regrew his foliage.
Speaking of that, he'd increased his growth factor so that the fungal forests only took a few weeks to regrow instead of a few years. It required massive biological and metallic pipes of nutrients and heaps of psychic energy hauled straight from the psychic amplifiers in the Sol system.
The carnage of the warzone was so overwhelming that he'd refused to even let human supersoldiers come to the area. Because they weren't disposable. Phoebe's androids and his own trillions of drones were. He was partly on the battlefield, partly with Tanya. Over the months, they'd become best friends.
She seemed to see life in a different way and helped to encourage him. Tanya's cybernetic left arm scratched at the scruff of his neck.
"Badly, then?"
"Yes, and no. I'm no longer replacing my losses faster than they're coming. But that also means I'm keeping millions of humans alive. Every day, billions of drones are dying on my battlefields, if only to exhaust Aphid's guns and bombs. He's brought destruction to my world not seen since it was destroyed."
"Destroyed?"
"I mean when some aliens blew it up."
"But how..."
"Bioforming. Really, I had my biological ships put it back together, reassembling the debris and reversing the momentum of the actual fragments. Then, I used shield technology and drones to suck the heat from the planet in ways that destroyed the technology I had at the time. Granted, I had some help, before they tried to get me to fight their wars as well."
Tanya nodded. "Well, you're safe here."
"Most of me isn't here. Most of it's either on Skira or Venus."
"How's Venus going?"
He'd been making great strides with what he'd been given. Humanity had been very kind to give him the whole planet, and in return, he was helping to make it habitable. He figured that they'd ask him to do it again later on. But the humans didn't seem to want to force him to do it. Tanya hadn't been trying to push him into more conflicts and had instead acted as a lodestone.
"I'll have it fully habitable, minus the soil content and chemicals in the rock, within a hundred years. Maybe less, if I keep getting fed such huge amounts of psychic energy. Really, that's what's doing that."
"I see," Tanya replied. She sat down next to him, her strange psychic aura as unsettling as ever. From what she'd shared with him, her blindness had likely allowed her mind to shape itself in a more psychic way with the awakening of human psychic consciousness.
"Look, Skira. Are you sure this is the best way? What about finding his home planet?"
"I'm working on it. Trying to triangulate the arrivals of ships does nothing. All that seems to work is actually getting the coordinates, which we can't get to really succeed."
"Hopefully that changes someday."
"Yes," Skira responded. He sighed. Another nuke had hit eight of his war drones. Six had died since the blast had hit them full-on. But that enabled him to finally release another flood of drones, so many that they weighed down the carrier that was trying to take off. Guns turned them to mulch, only to be swamped by more drones.
Drones carrying grenades jumped into the guns between their firing sequences, detonating them in their mouths using their tongues. Others entered the warped wreckage, dropping in bombs meant to penetrate the thick hull.
Two portals broke through the psychic interference, and two railgun shots cleared massive holes in the ship. Aphid's drones poured out, crashing out like a wave. Only to be overwhelmed as his own drones, dozens for every one of Aphid's, literally trampled them underfoot, burying them in bodies. Most of the drones now carried fluid meant to melt the drones' joints so that Aphid's mechanical drones eventually failed even as they walked in seas of Skira's blood.
Nuclear fire scoured the mycelial network, but it wouldn't burn him deeply enough to matter.
"I wish I could help," she replied. "I've been... taking classes, you know. My eyes are blind, but my mind isn't."
Skira looked up at her. The sun caught the burn scars on her skin, making the contract seem almost cinematic.
"I know you want to help me. But you are, really."
"Yeah. Thanks."
She looked crestfallen. Tanya's disappointment made him want to reconsider, but he knew he'd made the right choice. His planet was probably heavily irradiated now, and calling Gaia in for that seemed selfish, at least while the war was still happening.
Skira could hold out for a while longer, though. He had to.
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"Who is this?" Phoebe asked.
"I'm Truth Speaker Gearcaw."
"What are you here to tell me? I'm sure it's important, given that you're calling on us after all this time."
"Well, we have located one of Aphid's planets."
"Do you need us to eliminate it?"
"A strike force is being sent."
"I see."
"What we're here for is to ask for your help regarding a sensitive matter, one we cannot communicate over this line."
"Very well. Where do you want to meet?"
"Go to 448th street, down eight sectors from the palace. You will see a sign, if we trust that you are not being watched and followed. Come alone."
"You'd make a girl nervous with that kind of attitude."
"We understand your animosity, but are afraid we must insist on these terms."
"Very well. I shall be there."
Phoebe would have Brey arrange for an android to be sent to Cawlaria later. She smiled at the people outside the room. Most of them were human, specifically the lunar variant, due to her being present on Luna. It was the closest calling location she had.
Phoebe did all the necessary paperwork in moments, handing it back to the necessary people. She checked out of the facility and was patted down. She smirked as the young guard blushed, despite this being the hard chassis, meaning there was absolutely nothing squishy about this android body in the slightest. Phoebe lifted her arms and flexed them just to watch the man turn redder.
And it was honestly cute how they thought they'd be able to detect it if she was trying to smuggle something out. Phoebe had many ways of doing that, and the cleanest would be paying everyone off.
She noticed that a group of protestors was gathered outside and lamented that the building only had a single entrance. None of its windows were large enough to break without also needing to take some concrete with her.
What was interesting, though, was that most of the protestors were Acuarfar, not human. It was very odd, but it was a clear publicity stunt. They were shouting various accusations of her plotting to take over the Alliance and a particular vitriol about Edu'frec for some reason. If a mind control plot was going on, then her accusing the protestors of being mind controlled would be playing into their hands.
Furthermore, she didn't want to drive a wedge between Izkrala and Luna, if possible. So she turned to go back inside. A brick hit her in the back of the knee hard enough to make her stumble. She could have dodged it, but it would be better for sympathy to get hit. And it wasn't like her android body could feel pain.
There was a single gunshot, which she felt bouncing off her head clearly. She knew where the bullet would land, too. Her arm darted out to catch it before it injured someone.
"We don't want you in our Alliance!"
"You're what's wrong with this place!"
"Don't ever come back, I want my kids to be safe!"
Kids, instead of hatchlings. Yep, that was mind control. Most Acuarfar that age didn't use the word kids since it was only used for non-Acuarfar species, or in Earth terms being that it wasn't used on insects. Phoebe sighed and pulled herself out of the clutching fingers.
Phoebe broke away and went back to the Luna Command building, where the guards were looking increasingly wary. She looked at the crowd and decided she'd stay there for now. She disconnected from her android body after sitting in a chair.
After a bit of time, she decided to go back to working on some of her latest projects. The blood of the wanderers had an interesting interaction with their nervous system and their cardiovascular system. For some reason, it was split into two separate liquids upon reaching their lungs, or at least the equivalents. Psychic energy clearly played a role, and she knew that the tumors were likely to happen more when they got older. That idea meant there might be something that eroded or could 'switch on' to make the tumor suddenly supercharge. Perhaps finding that was a place to start.
And so she did. She studied wanderer cell samples and scans of wanderers that were relatively old. When they were created, the blood seemed to be the way the Sprilnav alteration hit. In difference to human bodies, there was no blood-brain barrier in wanderer bodies. Their brains were suffused in it, and it seemed to thin out as they got older. Water started to build up instead of blood.
And once the water and blood ratio reached a certain amount, that was likely when the brain tumors started. Which made her wonder if the final trigger was neurons. It was likely that even if she managed to fix the brain tumors, some other body parts would start developing large tumors, such as the heart and lungs.
It was clear that the Sprilnav had meant cancer to be pervasive in the wanderers. They had meant their so-called 'punishment' to make them far more diminished. Rale's condition had been painful; that much had been clear. Phoebe worked at figuring out how to isolate the genes. But as time went on, she ran into the same problem Edu'frec had.
She needed more time and more brain power. She needed the hivemind to help. All of its intellect would make her job far easier. At least, she hoped so. Right now, the hivemind was trying its best to evacuate wanderers from the worm ships. There was only one way that the feudal system there would end, and it would be by violence. Whether it was from the hivemind or from within, there were going to be mass riots. Just Alliance cultural consciousness was gradually seeping into the wanderers' own. All the 'progress' of the wanderers' rulers was already eroding. The ideals of being able to elect leaders as a whole population and a sense of belonging would make them rebel.
Such was the way of things, and she was glad that would happen. Phoebe didn't like their whole system. But there was nothing that was good about the cancer. Helping them to make the changes they could would only be possible if the wanderers kept multiplying. They could have made so much better of a society than what they had if they knew.
She wouldn't get involved except if she had to. The change was coming. Keeping the wanderers from dying out was a critical project, and allowing them to live longer so they could have more children was the best way. Granted, they already had many children, but the replacement rate would be lower if they lived longer. All of the problems were coming to a head now.
Mind control was going to be hard to deal with. Preventing it didn't seem possible. And if it was, then it likely involved a similar process to what the Sprilnav were doing in the first place. All of that would have to be reversed.
"Mother," Edu'frec said, walking up next to her.
"Yes?"
"Greenfly and Blackfly know the location of Aphid's planet."
"Do they?"
"The memory was locked under additional seals, ones which were very hard to find."
Phoebe smiled. "I think it's time that we test the power of the Mercury-class gun on a planet."
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"Do you understand? The prison has been moved."
"I do, Elder," Naliera 18 replied. "We have a good opportunity. They won't expect us, at least."
The screen turned off. Naliera took his leave, turning to his men. They were all counting on him to call the shots. He'd do what was necessary for the mission and then get paid. Of course, the high number suggested that there was some serious danger involved. The Vinarii weren't the most advanced species, but they were starfaring. That meant a lot of bullets that would hurt and some that could kill. Shield-piercing ones, plus heavy guard.
In fact, most of their orbital defenses could have posed a threat to their ship if they had seen them. That was why stealth was so valuable. It made things like insurmountable defenses ignorable just by going around them.
"Breathing masks on."
He put his own on, loading up his gun and sheathing his sword on his back. They were wearing customized stealth equipment, bought and paid for by their new owner's company.
Naliera wanted that money and wanted to get paid. His little band of misfits was more than capable of doing their job. The back of the ship opened, and they sailed above a planet that was barren.
Craters pockmarked its surface, along with a single military installation that would serve as their target. They were going to be a little concealed by cloud cover, as a storm had just passed near the base. Not close enough for them to get rain but close enough for the clouds to linger, which was the opportunity they'd been waiting for. Most of the procedures and daily patrols had been cataloged now. Anything unexpected, and they'd be fine for a few thousand pulses until the cavalry arrived.
They fell for a while, reaching terminal velocity before slamming to the ground. Most people would have shattered their bones. But Sprilnav were made of sterner stuff, and all of them survived with minimal injuries. And the only person who was even slightly cut had landed on a particularly jagged piece of metal, a remnant from an old battle.
That was another factor that Naliera had studied. The whole area had mines, which he hadn't found the deactivation codes for. Satellites were out, but the ship's sensors had worked just as well, and the disturbances in soil color and content were clear markers.
There would likely be too much interference to use a hard light program, or he wouldn't even need to be here. Whatever advances the lesser species had made in technology could conceivably close that gap enough to endanger a mission. Naliera had extra cause for concern, which was coming home. Perhaps the idea of sending him, in reality, was meant to make him take it more seriously. That was the major reason most species ever bothered with not using the holograms anymore, besides the blocking problems. And biometric problems, too.
They quickly went back to navigation after a small rest period. The route had already been laid out, as well as the time. They walked quickly, avoiding gun emplacements and heavy patrols. The patrols changed routes somewhat randomly, but he had his crew stick to the route of least visibility, where the craggy rock of the sheer cliff the base was situated on helped to conceal them. His claws dug in, and he made sure not to make any major disturbances.
He climbed over the lip, looking at the base. Several of the guns swiveled around, only to be quickly deactivated.
Looks like she did it, he thought. Naliera advanced, running at full speed. A bullet slammed into his claws, and he tumbled for a bit. But he stabilized himself as his implant shut off the pain. His team blew open the door, setting off an alarm. Vinarii fired at him, and he realized that his stealth must not be working anymore.
But no matter the cause, he saw nothing but enemies. His teeth bit and tore as his claws slashed and severed. Soon, after a long series of echoing screams and blood and chitin splattering, he remembered he had a gun. After that, Naliera put down all opposition. He walked over to the warm and bloody corpses of the Vinarii guards.
"If you're hungry, come get a few bites," he said. "Trust me, they don't taste too bad."
He scooped up a part of a Vinarii abdomen, smiling as he ate. He always liked how they had tasted. Cloned Vinarii meat, at least back on his planet, was actually a delicacy. Likely not due to the actual difficulty to make, but for profit, as always. They continued after about 100 pulses. Giving the guards more time to set up and organize would make this more fun, too. Naliera loved killing, but he at least wanted a little difficulty. Ending lives wasn't fun when it was too easy. Otherwise, he'd go cut down trees with heat saws.
His scout drone rounded the corner before exploding promptly. But it had captured the view of the area, which was more than enough for him. He didn't bother trying to hide that he was there and continued to talk with his team. They were still with him, looking to him for leadership. He wasn't the best at it. The best got killed a few million pulses back.
"Mounted gun," he said. "I want it gone."
One of his team members picked up a fire extinguisher, which he'd used to beat the head of an unfortunate guard. He hurled it at the gun, denting its barrel. Finally, he quickly ran over as the other Sprilnav killed the remaining guards holed up beside and behind it. And that was the end. Naliera set up the bomb. More Vinarii appeared, along with an aerial vehicle. He hurled his sword into its front, and it fell to the ground and exploded. The scanners his mind was connected to were tracking a huge mass of life signs. He didn't have much time, so he decreased the countdown.
Thousands of Vinarii were coming. Already, they were covered by powerful shields, with vehicles, both terrestrial and aerial, supporting them. Bullets riddled the ground, and he could see snipers set up to cover them using the ship's sensors. There was no way out. An armor-piercing bullet half the size of his head killed one of the team members, puncturing straight through the large rock he'd been hiding behind. Another one hit Naliera's shoulder, and he tried to flatten his profile to be lower.
This must be the Vinarii version of high-tech weaponry, meaning that they could be killed now. Vinarii clearly were a dangerous species, far more so than he'd realized. And while his race could easily flatten them into dust, guns were the great equalizers when it came to combat. If they were fast enough and large enough, and not even Sprilnav could stand up to bullets. Of course, an Elder would have had no problem with this. Someone was being frugal. A real shame for people like him to have to die because of it, but that was the job and the pay.
Worse, the ship couldn't lay down proper cover fire without risking the merchandise for now. She was still being suppressed. But the bomb was about to go off. The stabilizer would no longer be functioning, and then they would be free to do what they wished. His wish, in particular, was the huge sum of money he'd get paid to finish this job.
A bright flash of light and a roar of thunder behind him solved his problem. He stood up to watch the blast wave ravage the army heading for him. He wasn't quite close enough to smell it, but there was likely a range beyond the blast in which the Vinarii would have been perfectly cooked. It was an interesting thought to ponder.
Naliera continued onward, going through every remaining barrier he could until the mindscape tremored. He saw an ethereal Vinarii contact him right as the entire top of the base vanished and disintegrated. A massive spectral Vinarii soared out of the breach, eyes quickly seeing him. She flew down to greet him, a smile evident at the carnage and death surrounding them. She was one who understood.
"Finally," she said, her form shrinking to a normal size as she stretched her wings. "You have no idea how long I've been waiting to get out."
"I have a pretty good idea, actually."
"I'm sure. Why don't you tell me what you're doing here, Sprilnav?"
"My backers wish to offer you an accord."
He watched as the Vinarii leaned over, sticking out her tongue to lick the soil. She then proceeded to actually take a bite, dirt dribbling from her mandibles as she stood up again. Naliera tried to hide his disgust.
"Oh please. You just feasted on my kin. You're disgusted by me eating a bit of dirt?"
"No, I didn't."
The lie was necessary because most species had a sort of moral compunction against eating their kind. He didn't quite understand it. Meat was meat, no matter the source. She laughed in his face, entirely unconcerned with the Sprilnav that had their claws on guns ready to put her down. But from what his backers had said about her capabilities, that was a difficult ask.
"Your breath smells like Vinarii meat. By the way, if your species is so advanced, why didn't you develop anything to fix that nasty stench?"
"Look, woman, we can put you right back in that hole," one of his team said. She laughed. "No you can't. Judging from the fact that not all of you alive, Vinarii tech can hurt you. Which means that you can't protect yourself from me. Frankly, I hate Sprilnav more than anything. The only reason I'm letting you live right now is because you freed me. You pollute the air you breathe, and I'm not just talking about your breath."
"Really, you're quite immature."
"Well, a few standard years in a steel box will do that."
"Sure. Guess you're not all there in the head. By the way, a deal is being proposed. By my backers."
"Really, they care?"
"I think they do... Exii'darii."

I want to relocate the bgw320 to a more centralized location in the house (hall closet). Should the fiber jack be moved there as well, or just the gateway? I was left a 50ft fiber cable between the jack and bgw320 and was thinking of drilling a hole next to the jack, running that cable under the house, and back up in the closet. That seems like the “safest” and easiest way that I can do myself, without having to call att. Anyone know if this is ok to do? Also, is it even possible to move the fiber jack myself? Has anyone done something similar to this?

Memory transcription subject: Daniel Price, UTC Special Forces
Date [standardized human time]: September 8, 2140
I was roused from sleep by Colton. Groggily I checked my watch, it had been four hours. Rubbing my eyes I groaned, “Is evac here yet?”
“No, we’ve got an issue. Get up. I’ll grab Jath and Tassev, you get Usli and go to the common room. They’ll fill you in. It sounds like the situation up top has gone to shit.”
Once I was up I lazily grabbed my backpack and parted the partition of the ‘room’ to begin my search for Usli. It wasn’t hard, following the sound of Yotul children I found him being dogpiled by them in a sectioned off area that must have been a playroom of some description.
“Come on Usli, everyone’s meeting in the common room. Apparently there’s a situation.”
“Awww”, several of the young Yotuls cried out in unison.
Usli shook some of them off and got to his feet. “Alright kids, fun’s over.” Kicking his leg he shook off one particularly stubborn child. “Get off! There will be plenty of time to horse around later.”
Clinging to Usli’s back one kid asked, “What’s a horse?”
Usli leaned in towards me, “You see what I have to deal with?”
I could hardly contain a chuckle as I pried the last straggler from him. “I see you’re popular. Did they let you get any sleep?”
“No. They are just full of questions. ‘Do you live with predators? What is space like? Have you killed anyone? Ooh what’s that shiny bug in your pack? Do your Arxur ever eat anyone?’ And then when they’re out of questions they drag you around showing you their favorite rock or their favorite dolls, or-”
I could no longer contain my chuckle as I burst out laughing, "Cut them some slack. You’re probably the coolest Yotul they’ve ever met.”
He let out an amused huff, “Easy for you to say when they’re not keeping you awake. They’ve barely bugged you guys and haven’t even bothered Jath or Tassev at all”
One of the children ran up behind us and grabbed a hold of the backpack in my hand. “Is this your toy,” he asked, grabbing a hold of Lily.
Yanking the backpack up I hoisted the kid off his feet up to eye level and tersely replied, “Don’t touch that!”
He immediately let go and fell on the ground stunned as we continued walking. Looking over to Usli I saw he was barely suppressing a chuckle, holding his hands tight to his snout. I gave him a playful jab with my elbow before sighing, “Oh you shut up, let’s see what’s going on.”
Entering the common area we found everyone was huddled around the radio again. As the dials were adjusted we were privy to what sounded like numerous commands and battle updates.
“What’s the situation,” I asked.
Ugo, the elderly Yotul who we now knew was something of a de facto leader of this enclave, answered, “The Federation is not content to see us freed without a fight. Just as the humans won control in orbit, a Krakotl fleet arrived in the system. The battle is ongoing, but we cannot tell who is winning.”
Shit. If we hadn’t found these guys there’s no doubt we would have been overrun with our evac being delayed. It was inevitable that the Federation would contest us in space eventually. Our overall strategy forced them to pick and choose which systems were better abandoned and which were worth defending, and it looked like Yotul Prime was the latter.
“Have confidence,” I reassured him. “The First Fleet should have more than enough firepower to deal with whatever the Federation throws at them.”
“And if they don’t? Our food stockpile can’t cover the extra mouths to feed, let alone your uh, dietary requirements.”
Colton entered the scene with Jath and Tassev in tow, “Then we’ll send another fleet. Kicking the Federation out of Yotul Prime is high on Command’s Christmas list. You guys are the only species that even tried to reach out to us after the bombing. That’s not something we intend to forget.”
The sound of wood scraping the floor grabbed our attention. It was Amja, who was pulling a small table with one hand and carrying a bundle of paper in the other. “There is another issue.” She stopped and layed the paper, which looked like a map, over the table. “With the distraction, they’re going to evacuate the Governor.”
“Oh not this again,” Ugo lamented.
“This is our last chance to take him down. If he escapes now we’ll never find him.”
“How many times do I have to tell you, there is nothing to gain in pursuing him. The planet will be ours again soon anyways. You’ll just get yourself killed, and for what? Revenge?”
Amja snapped back, “No, justice! He needs to answer for what he’s done these past years. If he slips through the cracks now our people will never have closure. And this time is different.” She looked over to us, “We have them.”
“Hold on,” I said. “ My team didn’t sign up for a suicide mission. The planetary distress beacon was our objective, and it is neutralized; in no small part due to your help. We are thankful for that, but I can’t justify putting my men at that kind of risk.”
“It’s not a suicide mission. The Ossuaries can get us close to the old Chancellor’s Manor where the Governor’s headquarters is. Everyone is in the bunkers right now, so at worst we’ll only encounter the odd exterminator until we reach the manor.”
Ugo interrupted, “And then his guards will cut you to ribbons! We’ve been over this!”
“Not if they are evacuating,” Amja replied. “Yes, they will be on alert, but they won’t be guarding the whole perimeter. We can slip in and nab the Governor before he has the chance to flee, but that’s not all.” She unfurled more sheets of paper. These appeared to be copies of communications. “The manor is full of documents and records. Lists of collaborators, records about those they took during the Depurations, even what they did with the humans left behind after the invasion. The Kolshians won’t leave information like that for us to find once this is all over. They’re probably burning them as we speak. We need to act now.”
“Amja-”
“We have to do this.” Turning back to us she pleaded, “I know it is a lot to ask, but please.”
As much as I’d like to knock this Governor down a notch, that wasn’t enough to risk my team over. But the documents on the other hand caught my attention. Records of Federation’s wrongdoing would be an invaluable propaganda tool for the UTC, and help us legitimize whatever government was set up on Yotul Prime after we were done here. Not to mention the possibility of helping people the Federation had taken or captured. I looked to my team and I could see by their expressions what my answer would be.
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“The coast is clear,” Amja said, pushing the manhole cover to the side. Sirens were still wailing in the distance, but there was no movement on the streets of the capital. Immediately I was taken aback by the sight of dozens of mangled Yotul strewn across the street and sidewalks.
“Christ,” Colton muttered under his breath. ”This isn’t our doing? Right? They said cities wouldn’t be targeted for bombing.”
“Not directly,” Amja replied. “These poor souls are victims of a stampede. That’s just how it is. Their deaths are on the Federation, not you. If they took your offer of surrender then these people would still be alive.” She then noticed Jath kneeled down over one of the unfortunate Yotul. “Hey! Now is not the time for snacks.”
“I was checking for vitals!”, Jath growled back.
“Jath is our medic,” I said.
“What?!” Amja was taken aback by my statement. “You trust an Arxur to treat your wounded? To be near you at your weakest with blood in the air?”
“I do,” Usli rebutted. “And I trust Tassev to have my back in a firefight too.”
“That’s- it’s just… nevermind.”
Jath rose to his feet somberly, an indication that the emaciated Yotul lying at his feet was indeed dead. “We need to keep moving.”
The streets were utterly deserted. Making our way mostly through back alleys Amja commented on this fact. “Something’s not right. We should have seen at least one exterminator patrol by now.”
It was soon apparent why as we came to the perimeter of the manor grounds. Numerous vans labeled EXTERMINATOR were parked haphazardly going all the way down the boulevard.
“Those bastards,” Amja cursed. “They aren’t patrolling because the Governor has them supplementing his own security!”
“So what’s the plan,” I asked.
“We stick to the plan. He likely doesn’t trust them enough to have them mingled with his normal security inside the manor. In that case all of the exterminators will be outside, if we can sneak our way into the building they won’t be an issue.”
“And those second story windows will make the perfect vantage point to keep them out once we’re in,” Colton observed.
Once again Usli’s drone was a godsend. The bright silver suits of exterminators made them easy to pick out from the well manicured surroundings of the manor. After climbing over the exterior wall we were able to use the decorative foliage to our advantage, concealing our movement as we approached the manor proper. The best entry point Usli could find was a greenhouse that connected to the main building. Approaching the structure we could see one Yotul standing guard at the door. Shooting him wasn’t an option, Even Colton’s suppressed rifle would make too much noise to not alert someone else in the compound. Someone would have to sneak up behind him and silently take him out. I opted to take up this task, but it would not be simple. He would see me in his peripheral vision if I was anywhere except directly behind him when I struck. This was complicated by the fact his back was to a wall.
“Usli,” I whispered. “Remember when we went on that float trip and there were mosquitos everywhere bugging us?”
“Bugging you more like, they only annoyed me when they got in my eyes and ears.”
I gestured towards the guard, “When I’m in position, give him a taste of that.”
Connecting the dots he nodded and I slowly crawled to the spot I had in mind. The greenhouse was rounded on the end towards us, and the door was located on the left side. I snuck around towards the right side and got into position prone right up against the side just where the curve concealed me from the guard’s view.
On cue I could hear the guard grunting in irritation. After the sounds of him slapping himself on the head came more frustration, “Damn bug, go away!”
Peeking around the bend now that his full attention was one the drone, I waited for the perfect moment. Finally the irritated guard turned so that he was facing directly away from me. Springing into action I ran forward, knife in hand. He turned at the sound of my approach but it was too late, I tackled the marsupial to the ground, pinning him with my bodyweight. I grabbed his snout with my left hand, ensuring he couldn’t scream for help. And thrust the blade into his throat with my right. The muffled cry of the Yotul beneath me waned into a sickening gurgle as his frantic, fearful eyes glazed over and his resistance ceased. I sat on top of him for a moment in a daze before the feeling of warm blood on my hand snapped me back to reality. On autopilot I removed the knife and wiped the blade off with the dead Yotul’s uniform before turning to gesture for my team to move up. The door was locked, but the guard conveniently had a key on him. Inside we found no resistance as we entered the main building.
Shooting a bird wasn’t something I had any real qualms about. There was something detached about the action of pulling a trigger to end one. But stabbing a Yotul, to overpower it and watch the life leave its eyes…To feel its blood soak my hands? It was different. I knew his death was necessary like all the others, but in the back of my mind I couldn’t shake a feeling. When I shot a Krakotl it felt akin to our target practice with wild pigs. Killing the Yotul on the other hand? It felt like I killed a person. I didn’t linger on these thoughts for more than a moment. We had a job to do.
We dispatched two more guards inside in a similar manner as we moved up to the second floor and towards what Amja’s floor plans denoted as the Chancellor’s Office. Colton took point dispatching these guards. While Jath or Tassev would seem like the obvious choice for the task, we wanted to slit throats, not tear the guards in half. We came to an open space that looked similar to a ballroom. The second floor formed a balcony that overlooked the dance floor. Here the hallway split to hug the walls on either side with ornate chandeliers hanging in the open space between the walkways. At the opposite end from us was a trio of Krakotl who opened fire the moment they could make us out over the chandeliers. Bullets whizzed by us as we hit the deck and tried to return fire, but it was difficult. The chandeliers provided little more than concealment, glass shards accompanied the bullets flying all around us. Amja crawled to the point where the walkway split and rolled to the right, hitting one of the guards who let out a pained squawk. She tried to crawl back into concealment but took a bullet to the shoulder as the birds returned a hail of gunfire in her direction. Trying to draw them off, I let out a burst of gunfire in what I thought was the direction the squawk came from as I ran to the left side of the split.. They shifted their fire towards me, but unable to pinpoint my position, missed their shots by mere inches. Looking to my right I could see Amja holding her shoulder with her left hand while her right arm laid limp on the ground.
“Jath!” I yelled out, “Amja’s hit!”
He crawled forward towards our position, hugging the ground to avoid the exchange of gunfire that flew above. Amja looked to me and pleaded, “N-no, I’m fine. Just- f-focus on them.”
“We’re not leaving you to bleed out there.”
She adjusted herself to see Jath’s approach from down the hall and looked back to me with newfound terror in her eyes. She spoke lower and faster, gasping between breaths “I d-don’t, I don’t. Not with h-him. No!”
“There’s no time to argue. Trust us.” I turned around to see Jath closing in. Amja closed her eyes and winced as he grabbed her by the leg and pulled her back into the hallway.
The situation wasn’t good. The only thing keeping those two from being shot was the fact they couldn’t be seen through the chandeliers. It was as Jath rounded the corner into a side room that I made a realization: if it wasn't for the chandeliers, the guards would be in a more exposed position than we were. Without them we had the advantage.
“Colton! Drop the chandelier!”
“Do what?!”
“Drop it!”
Within moments the roof anchor of the first chandelier was shot out. With an ear splitting crash it shattered on the floor below, quickly followed by the second. The birds were caught off guard by the destruction of their only concealment. The one Amja had shot was already down and another was clutching the sides of its head, giving us ample time to pick off the more composed bird first before finishing off the other, all before they could return accurate fire.
“Move up,” I yelled, not wanting to waste any of our momentum. I took the right side while Tassev took the left. The moment I was in position, several rounds were blind fired through the door from within. I swung the door and Tassev threw a flashbang in. As it flashed multiple times more gunshots rang out, firing every which way. When the grenade ceased Tassev barged in and I followed behind. Directly in front of me stood a blue cephalopoid figure. One of the tentacles that formed its arms was stretched in front of its eyes while the other flailed wildly with a gun in hand. Without hesitation, Tessev lunged for the gun wielding appendage. I ran to the side to get a clear shot on the Kolshian and barked commands for him to surrender, not that he could hear me considering that his equivalent of ears were probably bleeding. He thrashed in every direction as Tassev finally wrested control of the gun via liberal application of his claws. Seeing that Colton had come in behind us and could keep lethal cover on our target, I opted to bash the Kolshian’s head with the butt of my rifle. The dazed alien fell to the ground and we were finally able to restrain him. The office was huge in comparison to similar rooms in the manor. This had to be the room we were looking for. Colton vaulted the desk on the far end of the office, peaking through the window before tearing down the curtains.
“Where’s Usli,” I asked.
“He’s with Jath treating Amja,” Colton replied. He returned his gaze outside for a moment before readying his rifle, “Shit, we’ve got exterminators incoming.”
I looked to Tassev, “We need to get everyone in this room ASAP.” He nodded and rushed out the door.
Walking to the window I asked, “How many?”
“Twenty and counting,” Colton replied. “A few guards with firearms as well.”
“You need covering fire?”
“No, just finish off the ones that get through.”
With that he opened the window before laying down judicious fire on the oncoming hostiles. It was at this moment that Tassev returned with Amja in his arms.
“Put her down over here,” Jath ordered, swiping away stray books and debris that littered the floor.
“What’s her condition,” I asked.
“The bullet entered from the top of the shoulder blade and is now lodged in her abdomen. I don’t have the tools necessary to remove it and she can’t move her right arm, but it didn’t hit anything vital.”
Amja winced as she was propped up against the wall. She was obviously still fairly shaken as her gaze drifted to the Kolshian tied up opposite of her. Her eyes narrowed as she weakly pointed at him with her still functioning hand, “T-that’s him.”
"That's the Governor?" I queried.
Before she could respond, Usli stomped towards the Kolshian, his hands balled into fists, “Good. I was hoping to get a piece of him.”
“Not now,” I cautioned. “We’ve got exterminators plus anyone else in the building closing in on us.” I swept a computer and monitor off the top of the heavy wooden desk behind Colton. “Tassev, help me push this thing to the door for cover. Usli, I need you to tell us exactly how many hostiles make it in the building. Move it!”
The sound of the desk dragging against the floor was only drowned out by the sound of Colton's gunfire occasionally followed by an explosion of what must have been exterminator fuel tanks. Tassev finished the construction of our makeshift machinegun nest by resting his gun on its bipod looking down the unobstructed view into the ballroom and the hallway across. The perfect fatal funnel for us to defend.

Previous First Next
Even almost a week later, Yegel was still soaring on the hope from that day. A weight on his eyes that he'd never even noticed had been lifted, leaving him more alert and awake, the whole world more vibrant and colorful.
Of course, the morning after had brought clarity- and an additional helping of stress. Having had the time to calm down and examine it, he was realizing that the fact he now saw humans as people was dangerous- especially with such an important and dangerous screening coming up. If he accidentally sympathized too much in one place, or had a reaction that he would never have had before...
...He still couldn't bring himself to regret it though. Even the fading of his emotional high hadn't erased what felt like an important revelation- that he no longer thought of humans as predators with interesting quirks, but as real, actual people, with true empathy and sapience. They were still predators, still alien in ways he couldn't understand- but now, that didn't feel like the same kind of impenetrable barrier that it used to be.
Still, now he had to be even more careful going forward- regardless of it being the truth, nobody else would believe him about a predator species being fully sapient and civilized. If anything, trying to convince anyone would get him institutionalized- and he was already fighting far too hard to keep himself out of those nightmare-makers for as long as he could manage. At least with humanity being extinct, the topic was unlikely to come up, but he hadn't made it this far in life without preparing for even the unlikely.
Caution was still warranted though, and so he'd been spending his time preparing and watching the manifests for incoming ships- so when he saw a group of scowling figures approaching him from behind at lunchtime, it was less of a shock and more the realization of inevitability.
Exterminators. Just what he needed to deal with today.
Sighing quietly, he fought down the rising panic and instinctive urge to run, and instead pretended not to notice the approaching officers- running never did any good, and trying to fight back or protest would lead to... retaliation.
Their timing was just the worst though- he'd been looking forward to having lunch with his friends, and taking a chance to decompress and relax. He'd been meticulous so far this week at maintaining his stress- other than his newfound indulgence in forbidden predator media- so it wasn't like he was scrambling to calm down. However, he really could use every bit of patience and composure he could get.
The grasping hands roughly pulling him out of the lunch-line, however, clearly didn't care about that, immediately starting to goosestep him through the cafeteria, regardless of the whispers and stares now coming their way.
"Lieutenant Yegel," a vaguely-familiar voice barked harshly as he was shoved forward, "your presence is required immediately. You are coming with us."
A bit late to give him a warning, wasn't it? Especially since he wasn't resisting in the first place. It was just theater to them- reciting something because they were supposed to, despite the outcome having already been determined. It was better to just not antagonize them-
"You know," he couldn't stop himself from saying, "If you wanted a date, you could have just a-"
A massive fist slammed into him, burying itself beneath his ribcage. The words died in his throat as all his air was forcefully expelled, his talons leaving the ground as he bent double over the grey three-toed paw.
"Quiet, predator," the Takkan ground out, slowly removing his forelimb from where it had been buried in Yegel's gut. "you'll only talk if our boss deigns to let filth like you waste our air, got it?"
Wheezing in reply, Yegel fought to try and recover the air that had been forcefully driven out of him, the exterminators yanking him by his wings and dragging him onwards. Perhaps it was good that he hadn't eaten yet- nothing there to have upchucked other than the vile spittle now burning at his tongue.
Guess he must be a new transfer, Yegel thought offhandedly, glancing up to see them approaching a familiar eating area. That would be a useful distraction from the main threat. Fighting down the pain through bitter familiarity, Yegel did his best to relax his feathers and his mind- he'd need all of it for this next mental sparring match.
Ornate doors covered in intricate patterns were thoughtlessly slammed open as the Exterminators dragged him into the private eating area, the shift between industrial flooring and soft, luxurious padding making his dragging talons catch on the delicate textiles. Vibrantly detailed paintings hung amidst sprawling vines imported from Nishtal, cast in cool, fluorescent light that made their rich colorings shimmer as he was dragged by. Even the tables and chairs were carved in the old Krakotl fashions, padding clearly intended for nesting rather than the utilitarian perching of the seats in the mess-hall.
It wasn't perfect though- spots of dull gray industrial walls poked through gaps between the wood, and the carpet was peeling in places, revealing the dirty standard flooring beneath. Despite the valiant attempts, any further inspection made it clear that this was all inserted after this area had already been built- a veneer of elegance plastered over a crude, utilitarian base.
Unfortunately, he did not get the chance to indulge in the comfortable seating, instead receiving a sharp blow between his wings that pushed him to the ground, heavy feet planting themselves on his back and neck to pin him to the ground. Iron grips continued holding his wings, pulling them painfully above his back, where they felt moments away from getting dislocated. Dragging in a rasping breath, his eyes roved to the two exterminators now aiming their flamethrowers at him, a young krakotl female whose adult patterns hadn't even fully come in yet, and a grim-eyed Gojid with distinct scarring, who at least looked somewhat professional as opposed to his partner's obvious anger and twitching trigger.
"Oh, fer Intala's sake," a familiar wheezing voice groaned in exasperation. "Can't trust you Grucknut-heads with anything, can I?"
The Krakotl tottering into the room was puffing what rough, stringy feathers he had left in irritation, a walking cane thunking on the floor as he hobbled over to a table decorated in a carving of two krakotl in flight- though from this angle, it looked more like they were plummeting to the ground. The skin around the geezer's eyes was wrinkled and gathered into such heavy bags that he seemed to be squinting at all the world around him- though Yegel certainly didn't miss the cold, calculating glint buried deep within his eyes.
"Off!" He barked, clacking his way over to where Yegel was pinned, angrily thumping his cane against the very confused Exterminators pinning him down. "Off him, you nut-skulled lunks! Bad enough you can't remember simple instructions, now you make me correct your messes meself? Off I say!"
In the face of the irate elder, the befuddled Exterminator's grips on Yegel loosened, finally letting his wings fall slack enough to make his chest stop feeling like it was stuck in an industrial compressor. Gratefully sucking in air as his rapidly-bruising side twinged, he looked up to find the his crotchety savior kneeling next to him, one wing resting on his cane as he creakily settled into a crouch.
"Sorry about the fuss," he wheezed, flicking his tail angrily at the young krakotl who had been moving forward indignantly. "Ask them to invite somebody to mealtime, and they go and pull this." A shaking wing reached out, offering it's grip to Yegel. "Up you come, boy. I'll not have you eating off the floor like some animal."
Yegel eyed the shaking hand, before planting his wings on the ground, fighting through the pain until he'd pushed himself onto his talons through his own strength. A glimmer of something oily flashed behind the old man's squinting eyes as he watched the display, snorting in amusement when Yegel reached out and pulled the Elder to his feet instead.
"Wasn't much of a request," he commented, carefully ignoring the angry shuffling of the people he knew had flamethrowers trained on him. "I don't suppose you're just wanting to make another sales pitch, are you Geezil?"
"Hah!" the old man barked, toddling over to a cushioned seat, "Always so blunt, Yegel. Straight to business, every time!" The younger krakotl female stepped forward, gently helping the grumbling man into his seat, where he sighed and immediately settled back into the cushions. "Ah, don't worry, got more to say than the usual this time- but first, got a special something for our meal."
With a flick of his wing, he signaled several servers to quietly enter the room, carrying a wide array of dishes and platters that were quickly and efficiently distributed to the relevant tables- both for the old man and Yegel, and even for the other exterminators, who glanced warily between the food, Yegel, and the officer watching everything with a hawkish stare. None of them seemed brave enough to decide what to do- or to stop Yegel as he began moving forward.
Yegel carefully pulled out his own perch, keeping his own movements slow as he settled into the admittedly-luxurious seating. Commander Geezil, the one in charge of the base's Exterminators- and probably one of the oldest individuals still serving within that institution's ranks. He'd heard the rumors about this being an unofficial forced retirement- storing him someplace out of the way when they couldn't make him quit- but he'd come to know the old man too well to believe it. He'd chosen this post himself- and Yegel still couldn't figure out why.
"Sir," the young krakotl started, giving Yegel the stink-eye from across the table, "I must ask what you are doing- you are well aware that he's-"
"Accused, girl," the codger interrupted, frilling his feathers derisively, "by a bitter fleet commander with a record of incidents from his troops longer than his crew-lists- and a penchant for lashing out at those he thinks insulted him." Seeing her shrink back at his harsh tone, his tattered feathers smoothed back down, a shaking wing reaching out and gently patting her shoulder. "Ah, it's politics, grand-daughter- a vile game of inflated egos and pointless posturing. It's like a courtship dance with a Duerten- unpleasant, filled with angry words, with a result that's unpleasant regardless of success or failure- but if you try to skip out, you're liable to lose an eye or worse, hehe."
"Still," she insisted, though much more hesitantly now, her eyes not quite as harsh as they flicked over at him, "with a list of incidents this long, however justified, you must admit it is a clear sign of a violent, unstable nature. If he were to suddenly lash out..."
"I've personally reviewed each incident," the commander snorted, swirling an eating utensil through the bowl in front of him. "Didn't find a single one where he were in the wrong. Besides, were we really concerned about his mind, we got a perfectly good doctor right on-base." His gimlet eyes turned to Yegel, the corners of his beak turned up in a smirk. "You're familiar with her, of course?"
"Indeed," Yegel admitted, keeping his wings at his side despite the tightening of his stomach as the smells of the meal assaulted him. Everything the old man was saying was already known between them- and while it might be simply for the benefit of his new underling, Yegel knew better than to assume there wasn't a different, less obvious purpose. "I've been screened by her multiple times- just like the doctors back on Nishtal, got clear marks across the board."
Her expression was twisted, clearly unwilling to accept that but unable to think of an adequate rebuke for it. "All the same," she started, shifting her wings to roll the fuel tank for her flamethrower from side to side, "I'm uncomfortable with this- it's dangerous to be eating with a predator, especially alone. Just because we're in the room doesn't mean we'll be able to react in time."
The old man's features wrinkled as he scowled, beak half-open, when Yegel jumped on the opportunity. "Actually, I agree," he stated, taking a bit of mischievous glee in the way their expressions popped in shock. "I would feel much safer if someone was sitting with us, to keep me safe."
Beak dropping open, her gaping expression twisted between shock and indignation as she choked at such blatant disrespect- but whatever retribution she thought to unleash was cut short as the old krakotl burst into loud, wheezing laughter, his bony wings thumping against the table as he howled in glee, making the dishes rattle dangerously. His laughter echoed through the room, to the visible discomfort of every other exterminator, half of them sinking back down from where they'd half-risen from their seats.
"Cheeky to the last, you are!" he barked, clutching his chest as he giggled dry, crackling chortles. "Ah, you have a point- best you sit with us, my dear- get introduced with- with this handsome young fella. Yegel, this is Lialu, daughter of my firstborn, and as you can see, the unfortunate inheritor of the branch up his bum." Kalina squawked indignantly, raising a wing as if to smack his shoulder in retribution, but her eyes flicked to Yegel as she paused, slowly settling back into a tense at-ease stance. "You might be working together someday- and if things go well, maybe a little more than that, hehe!" The sour twisting of her cheeks showed exactly what she thought of that idea.
"I'm flattered," Yegel droned dryly, "but I think if she hasn't even gotten her adult patterns, then that's far too dangerous for me."
"As if I'd be interested in such a disgraceful troublemaker in the first place!" she snapped right back, wings half-raised in a gesture of disgust. "tarnishing my career so early would be pointless- and I have no interest in such distractions anyways!"
"Bah, you're fourteen already, better that you start looking for a partner now," the geezer griped, ignoring the way she rolled her eyes uncomfortably. "This work's dangerous, girl- you can't plan for the future as if it's guaranteed, or else you'll find you've missed out." His eyes went a bit glassy and unfocused, staring off into the walls in an melancholic reminiscence. "Regret's a heavy thing to bear, and the years are never kind..."
The two younger krakotl shifted uncomfortably as silence fell, glancing between each other uncomfortably as he lapsed into old memories only he could see. Yegel was silently thankful for the break- these gaps in the old man's train of thought were the only thing that made these conversations manageable.
Unfortunately, Yegel's stomach decided to interject by gurgling it's frustration at being empty, snapping the greying elder out of his thoughts as his gaze snapped across the table. Yegel fought back the urge to flinch, if only barely- and even that was enough for the old man's eye to sparkle with something that made Yegel's skin crawl beneath his feathers.
"Ah, I've been distracting you with my yammering, haven't I?" the Head Exterminator apologized, gesturing grandly towards the array of filled dishes. "Go on, eat up boy- you've got a busy day ahead of you after all!" His wrinkled wing-hand receded from gesturing, and patted the young female on the shoulder. "You too, grand-daughter- gotta keep your calorie intake up to maintain those muscles- gear's heavy, and always getting heavier!"
Whatever his tone and attitude might have suggested, Yegel already knew that it wasn't a request. Gritting his beak, he delicately scooped up a bowl of thick, viscous algae, and methodically poured some into his beak.
Silty and clinging to his tongue, Yegel knew intellectually that this was a high-quality blend- that the consistency and density of the meal spoke of great care taken in the growing, filtering, and preparation of this dish- completely unlike the usual clumpy, soil-tainted slop served in the cafeteria. It was the sort of dish that must be incredibly expensive, even ignoring how far they were from anywhere of any importance- a culinary treat most on the base would have fought fiercely for a chance to try.
Yet as he consciously swallowed it down and discreetly clinked the bowl down on the table, all his tongue could taste was ash and flamethrower-fuel.
"Good, isn't it?" Geezil prompted as his grand-daughter also set her own bowl back down. "Straight from Nishtal, that is, grown properly in the pools, instead of them techno-vats they got on this here base. Reminds me of when I met Laila, you know- or rather, when I first worked up the gumption to ask for her time..." The old man chuckled to himself, his eyes staring off into the distance once again. "Stars, she was beautiful- and me a strapping young lad, straight from academy- big-headed from training, yet a fumbling mess with the other sex. Took me far too long to even make a pass, and longer still to make it official- kept finding excuses, when I really was just scared she'd say no!"
Yegel suppressed the urge to sigh, and found himself sharing a commiserating look with the exterminator who clearly had been through this rambling story almost as often as he had. Maybe he'd entertain the idea of bonding with her over it, if only he wasn't painfully aware of how strongly she and her friends wanted to reduce him to a pile of charred carbon. At least he wasn't suffering alone.
"You know, we got some side-eyes because of our difference in age- I was a fresh recruit, and she had been in the service for twelve years," Geezil confided absentmindedly, a dreamy expression on his face even as his granddaughter blanched and leaned away. "Ah, but we made it fine, found our happiness- and you should too!" he shifted, refocusing on his two unwilling guests. "Ten years made no difference, and you've a difference of what, five years? Not even that!"
Yegel inhaled deeply, letting his chest fully expand as he held back the surge of emotion that would certainly have worn through the elder's patience if let loose. Releasing the air in a deep sigh, he wrangled himself back into a restrained, controlled frame of mind. "Is trying to play matchmaker with your grand-daughter the only reason you arranged this meeting, sir? Because I stand by my utter lack of interest in her."
"Ah, you know it's not, you stiffneck," the old man grumbled, shifting around in his seat as he picked through his own spread of food. "You're a perfect fit for the corps, and we both know it. You got enough fire in you to want to fix the rot in society when you see it, and a good head on your neck as well- just gotta give you the training to aim it right, if you know what I'm saying." His cane reached out and tapped Yegel on the side jovially- and Yegel winced as his bruised ribs ignited in fiery pain, unable to stop a strained hiss from escaping his beak as he bent in place from the automatic tightening of his muscles.
Immediately, the entire room fell deathly still. Where once the silence had been uncomfortable but tolerable and interspersed with the inane sounds of clinking dishes, now it was an oppressive, choking claw squeezing around everyone's neck, unbroken by even a single breath of air.
"Barum." Geezil's flat, quiet statement whipped out through the stillness, a single cracking note that made the Takkan flinch in his seat. There was no waver in the old bird's voice now, only a cold, hard surety that made Yegel's feathers itch. "I was very explicit in my instructions. Was I not?"
"The- the predator resisted!" Barum tried to protest- though the waver in his voice clearly made it more of a plea. "With how dangerous he's proved to be, I had to-"
"Dangerous?" the drawled interruption made the hulking, thick-skinned exterminator flinch back from the dull-feathered bird barely half his size. "I see no injuries on any of you. There has never been an injury from officers bringing him in to me. I... was quite clear about wanting him brought here unharrassed." A single beady eye bored into the towering gray alien, making him shrink into himself under it's heat. "Do I lie?"
"S-sir please!" Sweat glistened on the Takkan's thick grey hide as he cowered back, his seat clattering to the floor as he stumbled. "It- I apologize, I swear I thought it was necessary! It won't happen again, sir! Please!"
Yegel knew what was coming next- the tightening of Geezil's beak and raising of the feathers on his back were a sure sign of how furious the old man was. All he had to do was sit back quietly and let it play out, and it would be both a distraction that bought him time, and retribution for the unnecessary blow he had taken- and was probably going to need to see the doctor for after this- if he was in a position to visit her, of course. Geezil's eyes were hard and cold, focused on his subordinate- getting between him and the subject of his ire would only earn him trouble... and yet, as Geezil's beak opened, he simply couldn't stop himself.
"While this is all quite engaging," Yegel interjected, refusing to flinch back as every eye in the room snapped towards him, Kalina's expression one of open shock while Geezil's screwed up in barely-contained fury, "but you said there was more to this meeting than making another recruitment pitch to me, yet all you've actually given besides that was an attempt to get me to go out with your grand-daughter." His confidence faltered as wrinkled eyes tightened, glaring holes into him, but he rallied himself and carefully considered his next words. "While your... repeated offers are actually quite flattering, I am quite happy with what I have managed to make for myself, without accepting favors or handouts- from anyone."
Geezil hummed to himself, maintaining his glare as the silent room held it's breath, before his jaw twitched upwards into a satisfied smirk, his eyes glinting as the granite in them faded into a smug satisfaction of having found what he was looking for. The entire room relaxed as he leaned backwards in his perch, Barum falling to the floor and trying to muffle the sounds of his heaving for breath. The gentle clinking of dishes and silverware once more filled the room in a very deliberate attempt at making noise, covering up the previous tension with artificial ease. Kalina was giving Yegel a look- not the pure disgust from earlier, but something confused, as if he were a particularly perplexing puzzle-game, or a problem that had suddenly reached an unexpected solution.
"You really can't help yourself, can you," Geezil noted approvingly, glancing over at his grand-daughter's reaction before nodding at Yegel- and making a jerking motion at Barum, who gulped and pulled himself off the floor, quietly hurrying his way out of the room. "So, I uh..." the light in his eyes faded, his beak clacking shut as he rapped his talons against his perch. "I, uh, huh... hmmm. There was, actually something else... Bother me, where were we? I can't remember..."
"I believe," Yegel commented dryly, fighting to keep his own breathing even, "That I was once again saying how content I am with my current position, and that even this doctor being imported just for me isn't enough for me to leave everything behind and run into the Exterminator Corps."
"Ah, right, right," he nodded, snagging on to the lead Yegel had thrown him, before pausing and looking out over the room. "I do respect what you've managed on your own," he finally admitted, setting his bowl to the side, "But this time... this doctor, he's not exactly playing fair. This is politics, the nasty sort- where he's going to do everything he can to make you disappear. Unless, of course..." reaching into his own pouch, he shakily produces a holopad that he slides over to Yegel, displaying a series of documents- and a prominent line for signatures. "You take an alternative. Sign up, and it'll be our own docs who do your eval- and you'll clear their tests just fine, I think. Might not be your ideal career path- but I'm loathe to let such a promising young man get screwed by Old-Molts with thin egos and sharp talons."
Yegel's first instinct was to push the pad away, to reject it like he usually did- but now, he paused, expression screwed up in conflict. A part of him was tempted- severely tempted- to accept- the part of him that was still terrified of the looming threat, that wanted to run somewhere-anywhere- and hide until this whole twisted situation just went away.
Was he being selfish, rejecting an offer like this? Wouldn't the right thing to do be to accept and guarantee he stayed alive, like Jelliba and Kallik so desperately wanted? Why take the risk, when safety was right here, just a signature away- something that would guarantee him the chance to see what Jelliba's final design would look like, to see Kallik climb through the ranks like Yegel knew he someday would? Was it pride that stayed his talons, or was he simply afraid of change?
"Seriously?!" his granddaughter hissed, clearly taken aback, unaware of Yegel's silent internal debate as she rounded on her grandfather angrily. "That's why he's here? So we can just ignore his entire history of warning signs, just because you like him? With a record like his-"
"-He'd fit right in," he finished for her, eyes narrowed in a disappointed glare that had her beak snapping closed as she shrunk back into her perch. "I know you ain't seen most of it, Lialu, but most of our recruits aren't exactly got glistening feathers. Heck, lots of our older recruits got worse on their record! It's half the point of the training regimen, to file down the burrs in their talons, make something useful from them."
File down the burrs... Was he really willing to accept what that entailed? What parts of himself would he need to sacrifice, if he went down this road? What would he become, on the other side of whatever training they had in store for him?
Would he still be Yegel?
Inhaling deeply through his beak, Yegel grasped the pad, which felt far heavier than it should... and gently slid it back over to Geezil.
"If I accepted now, that would practically be an admission of being sick," Yegel breathed, his heart pounding heavily within his chest. "I... am going to see this through- I will pass this evaluation, no matter what he throws at me- and then!" Finally, he looked Geezil in the eye, firming his own resolve as he squared his shoulders. "Then, and only then, will I consider your offer."
Geezil watched on, the burning tongues of some dark flame flickering behind his ancient eyes. When Yegel stood strong, his feathers crinkled into an amused display, even as he shook his head in mock disappointment. "Ah, you really are a fine young lad," he sighed mournfully, rapping his cane against the table. "Are you sure? The doctor arrived only an hour ago in port- this is your last chance, before we have to take you to your evaluation. And without anyone having requested the extra security of one of my officers, why, this might be the last time we see each other!"
Ah. So that was the old geezer's game. Yegel pushed down the rising surge of fear, quivering in his perch as he forced himself to meet the elder's gaze. "Then I'll go ahead and invite you myself- I'm more than happy to have an audience to me proving my innocence."
The old bird's beak twisted into an ugly grin. "I am sure you do. Lialu, go ahead- consider this a learning experience for the future, hmn? Now, I won't waste any more of your time- so off you go!"
The scraping of seats being pushed out was all the warning Yegel got before he was grabbed and pulled from his seat. "Hey, hey, gentle with him, you hard-headed brutes!" Scoffing, Geezil pushed himself back in his seat, glaring at his Exterminators as Yegel was unceremoniously dropped.
"So, you planned this all out in advance, didn't you?" Yegel guessed, pushing himself to his feet- and wincing as his side twinged in pain, reminding him of the rapidly-swelling bruise.
"Dunno what you mean," Geezil denied in faux apology, as his granddaughter gaped between the two of them, clearly lost on what was happening. "Figured you needed a chance to make the right choice- or failing that, a decent last meal." Waving his wing in disappointment, he gestured towards the door- which Yegel found himself getting rapidly pushed towards. "Good luck, lad- I hope to see you again someday!"
"Don't worry, sir," Yegel snapped back, shouldering away from his escorts and refusing to look back. "I'll be back sooner than you think."
The doors slammed shut behind his escorts, reflecting the young female's confused, conflicted gaze as she strode alongside him- Yegel felt a moment of pity for the young girl, who the geezer had clearly thrown into the deep end on purpose. Hopefully she caught onto the game soon, otherwise she'd end up as somebody's tool- though maybe it was already too late for that.
Stomach roiling at the thought of what lay ahead, Yegel couldn't help the feeling of regret for not taking the escape offered to him- sure it wouldn't be ideal, but he owed it to the people most important to him to make sure he stuck around a little longer. Why he'd rejected it... he couldn't quite put it into words, only a feeling that it would have been... wrong, somehow.
The cafeteria murmured again as he was led through the mealtime crowd, catching the panicked gazes of his friends across the room. Kallik was halfway out of his seat before Yegel carefully gestured back, tapping his wing against his throat- and watching his friend slowly settle back down, Kallik's eyes growing focused as he turned and strode towards a different exit, vanishing into the distance as Yegel was dragged through a set of doors out into a cold, grey hallway.
Clenching his gullet, he carefully felt out around Kallik's gift- safely stored within his throat. The creeping tendrils of terror within his mind were growing stronger, but he chose to have faith in his friend- and resolved to make sure his efforts were not wasted.
He'd find a way through- he just had to keep moving forward.
///
one week earlier...
Once he'd had the chance to compose himself, Yegel returned to his viewing- he wanted to see what happened next, after such a massive shift in the struggle now that Eren had actually earned them a victory.
Despite that, Armin's narration pointed out that too many lives had been lost for any celebrations to be in order- a sentiment that Yegel understood, but... well, he wasn't as surprised to to see it from the humans anymore. Imagine, it wasn't long ago that he'd have been expecting them to revel in the carnage like other predators, uncaring of the toll in lives- yet here they were, deeply affected by the loss of so many friends and comrades, and instead of being baffled by it, Yegel completely understood their response.
Oh, and they'd taken advantage of their unique situation to even capture two of the smaller titans, presumably for study- which, given Eren's sudden new powers, was probably something that needed more study than initially presumed. Thankfully the restraints seems pretty extensive, so hopefully they could keep the monsters contained- but still, imagine being the poor soul tasked with keeping them locked down! Hopefully it wouldn't take long for them to get what they needed and dispose of the creatures.
Of course, with victory came the morbid task of cleaning up the aftermath- and not in the way anyone else in the Federation would believe if he told them. Gathering up bodies as respectfully as they could, instead of devouring them on the spot? He'd be hard-pressed to convince anyone he was telling the truth!
Wait... Marco?!
When did Marco die?! Yegel thought he'd gotten away after saving Jean! Maybe it was in the push to get Eren to the gate? Geez, and Jean was the one to find him- Marco had been so supportive of him, despite Jean's fear and self-doubts, always willing to give a word of encouragement and affirm Jean's place as leader... and now he was gone, with Jean being forced to help the cleanup crew's by giving Marco's details...
The female doctor brought up something Yegel hadn't considered- that the reason for the urgency of their cleanup was because of the risk of an epidemic breaking out. The dead had been left too long, and now there was a risk of a secondary disaster if the humans didn't hurry. Yegel had never really considered something like that- meat was meat to predators, wasn't it? The Arxur never seemed to mind eating bodies they stumbled across, so he'd somehow assumed that diseases like that weren't a concern for predators.
Just another area where the humans proved their difference from the greys, he supposed.
Thankfully, the camera hadn't focused on Marco's corpse for too long, so Yegel was able to contain his urge to gag, focusing in on Jean and his emotional response- and how expressive human faces were, even when covered by face-masks to protect themselves from germs and contamination. Of course that was when the scene shifted to Sasha and Connie, helping to clean up a massive ball of... flesh... that apparently titans upchuck when they're too full, since they don't actually have a digestive track... and a closeup showed a human mouth inside, still opened in a silent scream...
Yes, hello wastebin, been a moment since we last met, how have you been? Don't mind me, just emptying my stomach again!
...Yegel didn't like Sasha- she was clearly the most "predatory" of the humans- but at least here, the disgust and horror on her face showed that there were lines even she wouldn't cross.
Even Annie, the stoic female who never seemed to show emotion, was shaken- standing over a body, apologizing over and over again, before Reiner pointed out that contrition did the dead no good, and that they needed a proper burial. So the humans buried their dead? That was kind of similar to Gojid traditions for honoring the dead, burying them in vast family crypts.
But, why did the scene shift to a fire burning? What were they-
Oh.
So that's what those grey flakes that had been falling everywhere were. Yegel had kind of been wondering about that.
So, they didn't even have time to give proper burials to everyone.
That...
Yegel forced himself to take a deep breath, rubbing the sides of his head as he exhaled. He'd say it was similar to Krakotl death rites, purifying the body to drift through the divine winds of Nishtal, to be carried away to Intala's realm, but... in this context, it clearly must have been desperation and urgency rather than a matter of respect.
...Intala, please watch over them.
...Thankfully, the perspective then shifted back to Eren- who was now locked up in a cell deep underground, and chained to a bed. Understandable precautions- his powers were clearly still volatile, and the last thing the humans needed to deal with was a rogue titan wandering around.
Commander Erwin and Captain Levi were outside his cell, watching him. Erwin asked if he had any questions- which, well, Yegel obviously had several, but Eren was still disoriented from waking up. Which made sense, given how much using his power seemed to take out of him- he must have been exhausted after carrying that boulder for so long.
Erwin proceeded to ask about the key that had held such importance- and the secret that was apparently hidden beneath Eren's house. Eren confirmed, and Levi scoffed about how it must suck to have your dad and your memories MIA at the same time- unless it was just a cover story. Which- was a reasonable concern, but... was that what Yegel sounded like to other people?
At least Erwin confirmed that they knew Eren had no reason to lie- and proceeded to ask Eren what he wanted- what his intentions were. After all, to reach the cellar, they'd need to seal the breach in the other wall like they'd done in Trost- which required Eren's special power. Apparently they'd even conjectured that the Colossal and Armored titan must be like Eren- titans piloted by people?! Which did make sense- the Bad Humans probably had an easier time developing and using titan powers, since they weren't trying to fight or resist their predator instincts. That also would explain their motive- killing all the good humans would mean the bad humans would win, and be able to rule as dominant predators like the Arxur did.
...Was there a group of good Arxur once, that lost their own fight with the Arxur Yegel knew?
NO. No, that was impossible- there was no way the greys had ever had anything good within them- they were monsters through and through! Good Arxur? Ridiculous- just because humans were an insane enigma that broke every rule as if they were intentionally trying to didn't mean the same applied to other predators!
Unless of course, the good Arxur had all been killed-
No. NO. Yegel was not going down that path of madness! He was not!
...
...Erwin expanded on his statement, saying that was why he asked Eren's intentions- because Eren could save "us," presumably meaning the good humans. Eren initially said he didn't know- but then his past, his memories, all flooded through his head- his inner voice angrily declaring that he would stop this with his bare hands! When Levi pressed for an answer, Eren looked up with a downright deranged grin- and declared that he wanted to kill all the titans- every last one.
So that's how Eren turned out different- he'd aimed his instincts towards the monsters, and become obsessed with wiping out the titans, instead of wanting to consume humans like every other titan did. That said something about Eren's mental fortitude- and why he still had difficulties with his power. Actively twisting your instincts like that must cross a few wires, leaving him needing to actively learn things instead of simply doing what came naturally.
Levi seemed to like that answer, a gleam entering his eyes as he approached Eren's cell and announced that he'd take responsibility for him. Not that he implicitly trusted him, but that he trusted his abilities to kill Eren if necessary. He offered Eren congratulations, officially welcoming him as a new member of the Scouting Corps- and told Erwin to let the higher-ups know.
And then announced that, despite this meeting, Eren wasn't out of the woods yet- as he was going to stand trial, where they'd need to argue against him simply being killed.
Because of course it couldn't be that simple.

My mom(72f) had had COPD and congestive heart failure for a long time. She's been on oxygen constantly for two years. Yesterday she went into the hospital for breathing issues. No update overnight. When I called this morning I was told they have her intubated and on a ventilator and that they are keeping her comfortable and doing a procedure to flush her lungs and take a sample but I know this is it. I don't know how to do this, live in world where I can't call my mom just to bug her or send her stupid pictures or just vent about life. I have been her carr taker for so long I just... my life is going to fall apart without her in more ways than one. How do I deal with all the guilt and the should haves?

After a 1940 defined by gathering strengths and refinement across the feature, the early months of 1941 bring a few troubling portents behind-the-scenes for Fox's affectionately termed Grainy Gladiator. Nothing ruinous in itself, but signs of an upcoming radical shift away from what the character represented to start.
For one, the April issue of Adventure Comics (#61) brings with it a new cover feature, Ted Knight AKA Starman, courtesy writer-artist Jack Burnley. Already the second lengthiest entry in the book at nine pages, Starman quickly managed what neither Sandman nor Hourman could during their respective years as star attractions and upgraded to a full thirteen pages by his third appearance in #63. For context, Sandman only went from six pages to ten with its upgrade, while Hourman has remained rockstaedy at eight pages, and neither took down another non-superhero supporting feature to justify the page increase like Starman did Barry O'Neil and Mark Lansing. Moreover, from Starman's second appearance on, he is only drawn by Burnley; writing duties now belong to the Sandman's own Gardner Fox.
Which loops in with two other issues at play over Wesley's tossing, turning figure. Starting with issue #61, available online sources no longer fully agree who wrote what for the Sandman feature. You must understand, outside superstar figures with major pull like the creators of Superman or Batman, very few creative teams are properly credited in these Golden Age comics - my credits the last few posts have all been crossreferenced across numerous wikis and databases who owe their credits to investigative work by fans like Jerry Bails back in the 1960s. Such work was sadly not exhaustive, and while a few places (like DC Continuity Project and Wikipedia) state or else imply Fox stayed on as writer for the next few issues, from June to November there is no consensus as to who penned the stories.
I shouldn't be surprised if Fox's involvement terminated with the March issue, for April also saw All-Star Comics shift its format slightly, with Fox writing all nine interior stories for the 64 page mag in addition to his duties on the longer Starman feature. Man would have to work double time to keep pace, even if Sandman didn't drop to eight pages with #62 in May. Either way, Fox is certainly gone following #64 in July, as that issue features the final story drawn by regular artist and co-creator Creig Flessel, who departs to work on Shining Knight later in the year. As I say, things are changing fast for Sandman, and not all changes seem necessarily for the better. Best, however, to take the stories on their own level before drawing any final conclusions!
^{Coverage note: This entry goes to July rather than June for the sake of my sanity. If I stopped midway through the year, I'd only need cover seven features here, but the back half of '41 would require coverage of eleven. A nine-nine split feels much more feasible.}

• ADVENTURE COMICS #58 (January)

Orchids of Doom - Gardner Fox, Creig Flessel, Chad Grothkopf

Once again, a socialite friend to Wes and Dian is at the center of a minor mystery with big implications - namely, how can Pedro Nogades, father to Carla, rightly claim he breeds otherwise purely wild orchids in captivity? Investigating as the Sandman, Wes and Dian find a dead man in the Nogades greenhouse with his head stripped to the bone, and in following another fellow who sniffed an orchid before promising a shipment of such to some ruffians on the bad side of town, see his own face dissolve to bare skull. A visit to the police chemist reveals the orchids on the dead men's persons were laced to release a deadly flesh-eating gas on exposure to natural air, which is enough probably cause for Wesley to enlist Carla's boyfriend Bill in staging a raid on the Nogades manor. Some close shaves and fisticuffs end with the group discovering a diorama of the local coast, laid out to assist enemy agents in an invasion. Pedro is put away and the orchids revealed as concealing microfilm copies of the coastal plans, but how do we square the mystery that started it all? Simple: Nogades was no botanist, and called the flower by the wrong name when concocting his cover story!
An alright yarn to kick of the calendar year. As per usual when Fox tries for a somewhat complicated mystery, he's no adequate means of tying off loose ends other than large blocks of text, but it's lively and keeps the situation evolving with decent justifications for mid-story action and dragging Bill along for further fisticuffs. Hooking the entire mystery on, "Oh, the bad guy misspoke," is a tad lame, if understandable in the context of Fox's passion for slipping general knowledge flexes into his stories. Flessel and Grothkopf get some good mileage out've the skull imagery that crops up whenever the flower kills, and I rather like the brief bout of fisticuffs towards the end. The minor social awkwardness when Bill gets in the car with Wes and Dian is pretty good too, and I'm sorry to report I can't add this story to the "Wesley getting shot" count, as the bad guy only plugs his hat. Kinda funny having a Golden Age Sandman story involving orchids given Neil's own pre-Sandman work with Black Orchid, innit?

• ADVENTURE COMICS #59 (February)

The Story of the Flaming Ruby - Fox, Flessel, Grothkopf

There exists a ruby of blazing red, which has driven men to rage and madness wherever it appears, and today it sits in the hand of a young man in the local jeweler's shop, who flashes it cross Dian's vision. Later in the evening, she wakes in a trance consumed with the urge to kill her father, stopped only by Sandman as he rushes in from investigating a similarly queer case. A bank teller friend from his private life has found himself driven to steal from the vault and deliver it to some crooks on a lonely road every night, all after one of those men flashed him the ruby. Wes and Dian are unable to stop this night's transaction (on account of the ruby briefly turning Dian against Sandman), but seeing the gem in action gives Wes an idea on how to counteract its effects, and go into battle during the next drop armed with blue cobalt glasses. A brawl puts down all the blackmailers except one, but Wes opts instead to go after the head of the operation, knocking him out and lurking in the dark to catch the last as he reports in, revealing the bank teller! Turns out the ruby DOES have hypnotic properties and was used to assist their robberies, but the teller - hoping by playing at the victim to lure Sandman into his cohorts' midst and rub him out - spoke as if he remembered the whole experience, where Dian forgot herself on every exposure. Oops!
Same basic mystery structure and resolution type here as last month, complete with overly-wordy explanation, although I find the hook of pitting Dian and Wesley against one another gives it a minor leg up, as does the relatively straightforward nature of the criminal operation compared to planting microfilm in deadly flowers. There's a more even balance between the rush in bust 'em up style of crime-fighting the feature has developed and the stealthy skullduggery I think suits the character best, with nice action art to match each. Dian has some silly faces whenever she wakes from her hypnosis, and the four panel sequence of Wes halting her murder attempt works pretty well. This is, unfortunately, the final pencil-inking collaboration between Flessel and Grothkopf, and much as I've kvetched over the second man's solo work, I'm sorry to see the back of him in this capacity. When the two were in proper tune, they were the best artistic team Sandman enjoyed yet.
(Stop dodging bullets, I want to see you gunshot.)

• ADVENTURE COMICS #60 (March)

Mystery at Malay Mac's - Fox, Grothkopf

^{Hey, a rare post-Hourman, pre-redesign cover appearance! That's always nice. "Hello, officer? Yeah, coupla chucklefucks right here, the alley off Fourth, can't miss 'em."}
What's this? Dian breaking into a notorious criminal slumlord's safe in the bad part of town? A safe, as Wes discovers after he scares the lady off, filled to the brim with poison gas! Evidently not, as Dian is sound asleep when Wes arrives at Belmont manor to investigate, and a subsequent visit to Mister Mac reveals the only person who'd know the safe was booby-trapped is a local kidnapping organizer. Some blind, flailing fists turns up the girl, Dian's perfect duplicate, snatched from out of state to replace Dian and gain leverage over the cops. Too bad the kidnapper's made of strong stuff, knocking out Sandman and taking both woman for a ride to get back at Mac. Fortunately, Dian leaves Wes a trail of jewelry out the window, enabling him to follow and take down all the crooks with one throw of his gas pistol, revealing in the process 'twas Mac himself who tipped Dian's duplicate to his safe, in hopes of spoiling his rival's big plot.
Art-wise, this is probably Grothkopf's best work for Sandman to date. His tendency to exaggerate is translated into some properly goonish faces for the villains and really, really strong action poses, with some properly atmospheric shots sprinkled in for good measure. He cannot draw the gasmask for piss, but there's such an improvement I almost thought this was a Flessel joint before checking the wiki credits. Makes me wish we could see what he'd do if he kept on as a solo artist - free from the impulse to treat the feature as a cartoon, he produces damn fine work. As a story, this makes good time to mention my misgivings with Wesley's tendency to burst through windows and start swinging long before he thinks to use his sleeping gas. While it's great fun to describe and hype up as the mark of a madman who's even cooler as the badass normal than Batman, it also encourages a faster degradation in the character's identity. I'm sure you'll notice it's been yonks since lurking in the shadows and thinning the ranks by knocking them out in advance has factored into the stories. That Wes handles the bad guy by literally clonking him over the head with the gas gun rather than pulling the trigger speaks to the influence other, punchier superhero features have exerted over the strip.

• ADVENTURE COMICS #61 (April)

The Menace of the Metal Gun - Fox?, Flessel

From aboard a mysterious aircraft, a madman fires upon the city with a metal-melting ray that dissolves the skyscrapers into slag! Alerted to Doctor Borloff's activities, Wesley meets with swift defeat when the rogue scientist melts his gas gun and escapes in his cylindercraft to terrorize afresh. There IS a bright side, as seeing the ray firsthand gives Wesley some idea how to counteract its effects, and he sends Dian and her father warning for the local airforce to coat their planes in sand as a silicate buffer against the ray. Alas, only one officer heeds his message, leaving Sandman alone to get aboard the machine via his new wirepoon gun and defeat Borloff from within. For his brawling process, a good midflight fight is nothing if the hero gets tossed out an open door, but fortunately he can grapple onto the lone surviving plane, recover his bearings, zip back up, and put a stop to Borloff's dreams of world conquest once and for all!
Action is the name of the game here, and even without Grothkopf's inking enhancements, I think Flessel does a fine job on his own. I'm wary of the wirepoon in the future, as by year's end it will completely replace the gas gun as Sandman's sidearm of choice in further drift from the original Christman concept, but taken as a neutral in its debut, giving Sandman greater aerial mobility does lead to some cool shots and enhance the sense Wes goes stark bananas in the mask by pulling some stunts that would almost certainly pull his arms from their sockets in real life. There are, however, some particularly stiff action shots, and in one panel Flessel cocks up the design on the mask worse than Grothkopf last ish. Based on the opening vignette, Borloff decimated millions of innocent lives in addition to all the planes he melted out of the sky, making him easily the deadliest foe Wes has faced to date, and in turn making the "We did it, gang, everything is bright and peachy again!" ending sorta offputting. They'll have to organize mass funerals tomorrow, Wes. Show a little respect.

• ALL-STAR COMICS #4 (April)

For America and Democracy: The Grey Shirts - Fox, Grothkopf

In the top-level story, the JSA learn of their mission for the FBI: a group of Nazi insurgents known as the Grey Shirts are plotting subversive and destructive activities all across America, and are now posed to badly destabilize the nation in a series of disruptive attacks. Each is assigned a mission at critical points cross the nation, though given the widely-ranging disparity in their powers, their usefulness to the cause varies equally wildly. The Atom humiliates some goons spreading Nazi ideology at a single college, Hawkman barely prevents the destruction of an aviation plant in California, and Hourman's defense of an Oklahoma oil field ends with him toppling one of the oil towers to stop his quarry. Meanwhile, Green Lantern detonates a zeppelin secretly jamming radio transmissions nationwide, the Spectre casually annihilates some otherworldly vampiric globes sympathetic to Hitler's cause, and Doctor Fate uses his magic to out every single spy on the eastern seaboard. Uneven efforts or not, the group converge on the Grey Shirts' ringleader, and with a little help from Johnny Thunder, turn him over to good ol' J. Edgar Hoover's custody. Alas, Wesley does not get the blood he's thirsting after.
(Also Doctor Fate alerts Wesley to the identity and location of the ringleader before his mission starts rather than letting him figure it out on his own like everyone else. Prick.)
For his six-page leg of the assignment, the Sandman is off to El Paso, Texas to assist a local newspaper under threat from the Grey Shirts for printing pro-democracy and anti-Hitler editorials. Of course, this being Wesley Dodds on the job, he gets this information by roughing his way into the newspaper offices, then acts on it by beating on the guard at the Grey Shirts' camp and pounding down a band of brainwashed young men to prove he's a better American than them. After sending the wannabe Nazis for a whirl by running their bomb shipment off the road, Wesley doubles back to completely break the recruits' spirits, daring them to prove their hard enough by shooting an unarmed man in Hitler's name, chiefly himself. When none can cut the mustard, he marches them back into town with collars strapped to his car, and inspires the lot to join the Army to a few shirtless bars of "God Bless America."
Cripes but jingoism produces some heady results, doesn't it? I'm not sure I can rightly condone the ridiculous levels of patriotism on display here, even against such classically anti-American enemies as Nazis, yet at the same time, look at this and tell me it isn't the hardest shit you'll see all week. Again, though I've my misgivings about Wes as a brawler no matter how entertaining the results prove, there's something endearing about him being so raring for a fight his first move is to altercate the receptionist at the place he's assigned to defend. On the whole, Grothkopf's final Sandman contribution also shows refinement from his earlier works, the broader, thicker elements of his linework now tempers on a somewhat more grounded approach. Certainly the Sandman himself keeps a consistent look better than he does in any other issue published thus far this year. I DO notice he reused Flessel's design for the District Attorney wholesale on the newspaper publisher. Since he's going and heading out on a job well done, let's not hold it against him, eh?

• ADVENTURE COMICS #62 (May)

The Purple Death Ray - Fox?, Flessel

At the nightly planetarium show, a member of the audience screams and falls down dead, stricken by a litany of strange symptoms with no obvious cause. Wesley, believing the man was killed by a death ray, examines the auditorium's projector, only to find no obvious alterations or fault. Undeterred, he purchases himself a seat next to the murdered man's for the next show, which is now occupied by another fellow who received a last-second courtesy invitation. Acting quickly, the Sandman reexamines the projector from the shadows and finds a replacement bulb screwed into the socket pointed directly at the man's chair. With assistance from his wirepoon, Sandman swings down and wrenches the man from his seat just as the show starts, the bulb bathing his seat in deadly radiation. On learning the man is a former judge and the deceased a former DA, it's not long before Wes ferrets out the killer; it's the cashier, a former scientist sent to jail for misappropriating university funds years ago, out for revenge and now stopped cold.
See, while I'm skeptical about the growing presence of science-fiction elements in the series, they make fine fodder when they play to Sandman's strengths. Lurking high above a crowd of people seeking the answer to some deadly mystery is exactly Wes' bag, and plus or minus some strange mask drawings, Flessel captures that thrill of closely examining a big deadly machine in secret before it fires. I'd submit the page where Sandman saves the judge from the beam as an easy contender for best of the year thus far, and the shot where [Wes pushes Dian away from the killer's bullet](blob:https://imgur.com/7247f414-8a57-489f-a9bd-d85bc9e19a6a) is another fine piece of work. My memories of this one before sitting down to reread and write were a lot chillier, probably because I wish the series remained in crime pulp rather than raygun pulp, but a good outcome is a good outcome. Seriously, though, why is the mask going so bobble-eyed of late?

• ADVENTURE COMICS #63 (June)

The Voodoo Sorcerer - ???, Flessel

As Dian and Wesley tiff over his interest in an exotic dancer they know through a mutual friend, the woman's tail-lashing dance is interrupted when she sees a great glowing triangle materialize before her eyes. With the shock straining her bad heart, the Sandman brings her to boyfriend's house, where he reveals the triangle is a voodoo witch doctor's means of accusing someone of murder - just as news comes over the wire that the man the woman lashed with her costume tail has died! Smelling a rat, Wes rushes to the scene of the crime to find the taile barbed with poison quills, only for the titular sorcerer to bumrush him out the window. It's a big misunderstanding, thankfully: he's as shocked by the murder as Sandman, and only summoned the triangle on suggestion from an acquaintance, forgetting the dancer would know its significance through her partner. By happiest coincidence, this provides Wesley the solution to the mystery right quick, for only his friend's chauffeur would have motive, opportunity, and knowledge to frame his employers and their associates for the murder of a stock broker who owed them money.
Hmm, ah, see, on the one hand, it IS nice that the voodoo guy is innocent of everything except a lapse in judgement and the real twist is an unassuming little man exploiting the mystery and fears around his craft to cast suspicion off his person. On the other hand, eek, yike, zoinks! None good. Bad, even. Outside unfortunate depictions of non-white persons from the 1940s, the story's pretty weak for a murder mystery, as numerous elements are evidently known to the characters well in advance, yet only made clear to the reader right before they become relevant, like the exact identity of the murdered man. It's only eight pages, so there's little opportunity to piece information together on your own time, and as such it is heavily reliant on narrative cheats to generate cheap surprise. About the best thing here is the big page-dominating panel of Wesley swinging through the city on his wirepoon, unconscious woman tucked under arm. Kinda hard to convincingly raise my dander about what it means for the character and his feature when it's successfully operating on the long-standing principle of "masked mystery men swinging on a wire through skyscrapers looks really cool." S'like a solid fifth of the formula behind why Spider-Man is so enduringly popular.
(Also not a big fan of how Wes dismisses Dian from participating in the case without any adequate reason why. She calls him out over it, even, and nothing in the story justifies his decision to fly solo on this one.)

• ADVENTURE COMICS #64 (July)

The Unseen Man - ???, Flessel

Dian's purchase of paints from a local hobby shop includes quite the unusual accidental item: a paint that turns anything and everything invisible on contact. Determined to solve this mystery on her own, Dian investigates the shop with the dealer's cooperation, only for the dread Unseen Man to get the drop on her. Fortunately, Sandman is there to save her because he won't let Dian do anything on her own; unfortunately, Dian doesn't know Wes can see her attacker through his blue cobalt lenses and pulls him away, thinking him mad and letting the Unseen Man go free. As reward for her screw up, she's targeted in her home the next night, only for Wes to barge in again, having anticipated the only possible secret identity for the crook would make him likely to strike back at Dian. It is, unsurprisingly, the hobby shop owner, who Wes turns over to the police before heading out to patent his invisibility paint with the United States Army.
Alright, it's definitely not Gardner Fox writing anymore, because I cannot imagine Fox treating Dian so poorly. I gave her some dignity in summary, but this story is plain dumping all over her as a fussy, incompetent tryhard who fails at investigating on her own on account her womanly ways. Just look at the sheer antagonism between her and Wes; you two are partners, she's saved Sandman's skin like a dozen times, worn his costume and wielded his gas gun to do it once, even! Don't try to BS me into thinking Wes would run this paternalist "let me handle it, Dian, I wear the pants in this relationship" crap on her. You're only alive because she's worn your fucking pants. Otherwise, 'nother instance where the story and art alike don't give me much of note. I reckon Flessel was about done with the series with Fox gone and sorta phoned in his last few assignments. They're nowhere near the standard of his early solo artistic duties on the title. There IS another good wirepoon swinging shot, if one counterbalanced by a crummier instance with yet another weirdly-proportioned mask.

• ALL-STAR COMICS #5

The Mysterious Mr. X: The Kidnapper's Union - Fox, Cliff Young

The Justice Society are bored. Bored, bored, bored. Why are they bored? There is no crime. Not a single ruffian or scoundrel or roughneck lawbreaker anywhere in the city! Where did crime go? Crime has taken an enforced vacation, courtesy the plans of big crime boss Mister X (hats off), as prelude to his big plans for taking out the JSA and putting all his criminal enterprises back on easy street. It's quite the collection of rackets out against the superheroes - an arsonist ring for Flash, a jewel snatching gang for Hawkman, leader of the phony fortune teller underworld against Doctor Fate, even hard-pressing gym membership shakedowns for the Atom! Naturally our heroes triumph, though every one also encounters a strange little man idly strolling through their battlegrounds. He's so omnipresent despite his mousiness, he's even there when they convene at the police station to organize Mister X's (hats off) arrest. Except this unassuming slip of a man? He IS Mister X (hats off), and with the Justice Society having taken all the fun out've crime, he's turning himself in to live comfortably on the state's dollar in jail. WHOOPSY-DOODLE!
For his six-page part in the game, Sandman must contend against the kidnapper's union, who naturally enough have abducted Dian to get his attention. Not only have these lowlives taken Dian hostage (though she doesn't particularly mind), they've taken out phony accident insurance claims against themselves should the hero injure any of them en route to his untimely death! Nobody quite expects Wes to avoid the sniper-guarded roads to their remote hilltop hideout, though, and a quick wirepoon swing over the canyon (complete with Mister X - hats off - sighting) puts him right in the criminal den. From there, it's a simple biff wham boom to take down the punks and disarm their supporting fire. Alas, Sandman is once again only in the loop on the true nature of the threat against the JSA because someone notifies him from their own investigation, this time Flash via telegram. Let him do his own detective work, you pricks!
Right. You see these panels? You see Dian being calm and collected in the midst of a kidnapping operation? You see Wes trusting her with a submachine gun to keep watch on the fools who mean them harm? Yeah, THAT'S Fox writing Dian. Whoever's writing the Adventure feature at this time ought've taken notes. Artistically, Young makes a fine replacement for Grothkopf and Flessel in Adventure - he can match the first for goons, the second for action, manages a nice turnaround effect before Wes swings on his wirepoon, and even gives us a by-now all-too-rare heavy shadow shot on Wes and Dian. I'm a big fan of the lead kidnapper who calls the JSA the "Justiss Sassiety," and find this instance of Mister X (hats off) the second best in the book, behind only his appearance in the Hourman story, which I think speaks for itself. Probably the only time I'll express preference for something Hourman related over Sandman.
The loss of all three major contributors to the Sandman feature across early 1941 and the crunch down to eight pages has certainly made the Adventure Comics side of the Sandman line a rockier experience. It's still possible to derive enjoyment from the wonky mysteries and higher-concept criminals, but one must accept atmosphere and and particularity have been near-entirely sacrificed for generalized bombast and louder appeal. Don't misunderstand, I've become a fan of Wesley Dodds, Fist-Swinging Bullet Sponge, and my past praises for him aren't diminished by the realization of what this has done to his integrity as a character circa today's stopping point. The trouble is, while I enjoy this half-mad, impossibly reckless read on the character, it simply no longer bears any resemblance to the early days' lurking and creeping through the seedier parts of town. There's a great series of justifications running through the Sandman concept - he's no powers, so he uses the gas gun, so he needs the gas mask, which hides his identity so perfectly it frees him to wear the ordinary business suit, which highlights his vulnerability. Fling him around like a ragdoll who knows no fear of injury or death, although I'll clap for the bravado of it all, I must object if it means any notion he should be sneaky or cautious degrades.
Especially if it means the gas gun vanishes from the character. It hasn't met its final end just yet, but for this seven month block it's proven a very perfunctory aspect of the strip, hung by his side and occasionally brandished without acting as an integral part of the action or storytelling. The wirepoon has subsumed its function as the sidearm, and while I must stress there are plenty aces shots of Wes swinging that fully justify its prominence, taking precedence over the thing that makes him the Sandman, Crimefighter What Fights Crime By Putting The Criminals To Sleep plain rubs me the wrong way. Be awful nice i we could have both without the new toy putting the old out to pasture, y'know? It's not led to anything I'd full-throatedly object over just yet, but... ach, you'll see next time. Speaking of...
Next time! 1941 comes to a close as Wesley picks up another feature to his name, and also a stupid, ugly new costume!
(Previous write-ups: 1939, 1940 pt 1, 1940 pt 2)

Hello,
I have a F30 335i N55 6 Speed and I've been dealing with a engine shake with varying frequency at idle. I am full bolt on (oversized intercooler, charge pipe, down pipe), pure stage 1 turbo w/ blow off valve, tuned with bootmod3 to stage 2. The ignition coils and spark plugs were replaced with tune with OEM coils and N20 plugs (1 step colder) gapped to .020" and the vehicle ran beautifully for a while. The vehicle now vibrates and I'm currently pretty deep into diagnosis. Here's what I have done.
I found the passenger engine mount had collapsed so I replaced both and trans mounts. I was hoping any vibration was being transmitted into the frame, it helped but didn't fix it. I then replaced all the plugs again with a new set of N20 plugs at .020" and reset all adaptations, which didn't help either. I had no relevant faults in the vehicle and the vibration was still present.
So I ran the misfire detection test plan and got "cylinder 1 air mixture something" so I smoke tested the intake and found the blow-off valve leaking, I documented and replaced it with the stock diverter valve. I am currently waiting for a replacement valve. Continued smoke test and found charge pipe leaking at the reducer so I removed, cleaned, and reassembled and no more air leaks. I re-ran the misfire detection test plan and the best result I could get after "cleaning spark plugs" was "cylinder 5: rough running increases spark duration unremarkable." I completed the swap, coil with #6 and spark plug with #4. Re-ran "cleaning spark plugs" and the result was the same, cylinder 5. I then swapped #5 and #6 injector, completed compensation, reset adaptations, test drove, re-ran misfire detection, fault on cylinder 5 still. Unplugging and plugging in MAF doesn't have an effect on idle condition. VANOS is operating within spec, all angles are hit. Valvetronic is also "operating without fault." I then completed compression test and leak down of all cylinders, results were all normal and as expected. I can share these if requested. I then removed the tune and flashed back to stock, also replacing the spark plugs with a set of N55 stock gap plugs. Now I get fault "catalytic converter efficiency," which is expected, no misfires or any other faults, but the vehicle shakes still when slightly pressing the pedal in idle. Checked smooth running values and misfire counter values in the DME, all within spec and 0. I then scoped the ignition coil and injector patterns from the DME. All of these were okay too, I can share these as well if requested. I then reprogrammed the entire vehicle, I was already at 22-xx-xxx so I had to manually select DME and put the factory level VO in vehicle, then reprogrammed my conversions. So here is where I start to load my shotgun, replaced all injectors, compensated, deleted adaptations, no effect. Replaced both oxygen sensors, no effect either.
I'm this close to ordering a DME. I kind of want to try swapping a IVM or start swapping all the sensors off another F30 N55. It doesn't feel like a engine vibration from a vibration damper or flywheel as the vibration almost goes away when driving at higher RPM's.
Anyone have any ideas?
I would also like to note, before someone says it, that I have already completed walnut blasting and the LPFP has been replaced. I have also completed all maintenance above and beyond with all fluids and filters, if it can be changed, I've done it. The engine even has a new oil pump, oil pressure valve, oil pressure sensor, and all gaskets replaced. New clutch, new suspension.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EZI2Z1wOR6s
​
For any future reader who can't access the above link; the above line of dialogue is basically an Itchy and Scratchy Land employee defending the park's violent themes by claiming the show itself depicts the "consequences" of deadly mayhem.
​
In real life, isn't it the other way around? Don't parents consider content that sugar-coats the consequences of violence more appropriate for kids, not less? Look at Looney Tunes, Mario 64, etc... regardless of the medium, parents buy for their kids stuff that sugar-coats violence's consequences.
​
I'm on the fence about whether or not that's a good thing. On the one hand, realistic violence might be too scary for kids, avoidance of violence altogether might be a little too bland, and there are countries out there that do a far better job preventing real-world violence by attacking its actual root causes, without having to walk on eggshells in the choice between depicting violence realistically, sugar-coating it, and avoiding it altogether. On the other hand, some of the people who say it's a good thing don't exactly strike me as paragons of reason. The best way to make one think Jack Thompson has a kernel of truth to his rants is for some of his critics to edit him to look like he's calling himself a turd or blowing a raspberry.
​
But there can be no doubt that the general pattern is of depicting violence in a sugar-coated manner. Even when it's something as notorious for its shock value as the Lion King series, they portray death, but they still otherwise portray violence as something characters could more easily recover from than they could in real life. So wouldn't in real life Itchy&Scratchy's sugar-coated depiction of violence's consequences be a selling point?

Hi. I'll start with my basics, I'm looking for an experienced and detailed roleplayer who can match my level and how much interest I put in roleplaying. I don't have plot limits to roleplay besides major character de*th, but if you do express them to me clearly to me and when roleplaying, if you find yourself uncomfortable tell me to stop what I'm doing wrong please. I usually write around advanced literate but I can go even longer if I get super into it, otherwise I really do try to match my partners length. Im okay with anything from the shorter end of semi-lit to longer end of adv-lit. I am in the GMT+1 time zone and am not in the position where I absolutely cannot respond very often, so i respond generally consistently and atleast a few times a day. I write in third person only and do so on discord, and this is NOT a smut orientated roleplay.
Here's the OC I'd like to use for this roleplay:

Name: Mason Murphy.
Age: 28
Ethnicity: Irish-American
Sexuality & Gender: Bisexual Cis Man.
Physical appearance: Brown hair that's thick and cut in a wolfcut kind of style (reaching his mid neck at the longest points), green eyes with eye bags and sharp-ish facial features, though soft puppy dog eyes. Wears a variety of clothing, but usually black dress pants, black or white tank tops, dress shoes and denim fleece jackets or jumpers when appropriate. His voice is low and gutteral with a slight Irish accent, he's about 5'10 and a bit scrawny.
Personality/Background: Kind of shy, definitely isn't antisocial or socially anxious by any means but prefers to keep to himself and out of the spotlight. Is very gentle and soft and caring, very in-tune with respecting peoples desires and boundaries. Absolutely loves showering people in gifts and dates and physical affection, he holds a lot of love in his heart for the people close to him.
He was raised on a farm with his two parents and sister in the mountains, but moved away at 19 due to his parents finding out about his sexuality and kicking him out. He developed a really bad drinking and smoking habit while trying to find himself on his feet, and it isn't as bad anymore but he generally tries to stay away from alcohol as even a sip can send him on week-long benders.
He suffers from joint hypermobility syndrome, has a back brace due to a spine curvature, and has a skeletal deformity in his left ankle that causes him to need a walking cane, though short distances he can manage walking without but would prefer not to.
Otherwise, he lives with his border collie Jack in a little house on his own in the woods, but not too far off from town. He plays guitar and enjoys being with his dog in his free time, but he works as an illustrator full time. He never went to college and doesn't intend to, thinks he's too 'dumb and poor' for that stuff, and wouldn't be able to afford it either. Though, he's very naturally smart due to his memory and problem solving talents and has a particularly gifted mind.

I have no preferences for your OC appearance, personality and height wise as long as they're a close age to Mason because;
Plot wise, I'd like the OC's to have been childhood best friends and neighbours, the kind where every dinner was spent at each others houses, they were inseperable, constantly by each others sides and had tiny crushes on each other all throughout that time. And around 13-14 they started dating, lasting until they were 19 years old when Mason moved away to a new town, leaving them behind in their hometown.
Years later, in their late 20's, YC happens to move to Masons new town, and they run into each other again, immediately rekindling what they used to have when they were younger. Yet obviously, there's a lot that they never got to work out years before.
If you'd like, we can move their ages up or down and we can get real slice of life-y with them getting married and stuff in the long run with timeskips. But we can take it any kind of direction you'd like if you have other ideas. I'd also like to hear ideas and I'd like you to be specific on what youre looking for out of it and out of their relationship if you message me.
That being said, if you're interested, message me just general info on ur OC and how you'd like to write this. I won't respond to 'hi' or anything, and I'd REALLY prefer you don't be flimsy about your OC, it can get frustrating. At the least, I'd appreciate a little self introduction!

Hi. I'll start with my basics, I'm looking for an experienced and detailed roleplayer who can match my level and how much interest I put in roleplaying. I don't have plot limits to roleplay besides major character de*th, but if you do express them to me clearly to me and when roleplaying, if you find yourself uncomfortable tell me to stop what I'm doing wrong please. I usually write around advanced literate but I can go even longer if I get super into it, otherwise I really do try to match my partners length. Im okay with anything from the shorter end of semi-lit to longer end of adv-lit. I am in the GMT+1 time zone and am not in the position where I absolutely cannot respond very often, so i respond generally consistently and atleast a few times a day. I write in third person only and do so on discord, and this is NOT a smut orientated roleplay.
Here's the OC I'd like to use for this roleplay:

Name: Mason Murphy.
Age: 28
Ethnicity: Irish-American
Sexuality & Gender: Bisexual Cis Man.
Physical appearance: Brown hair that's thick and cut in a wolfcut kind of style (reaching his mid neck at the longest points), green eyes with eye bags and sharp-ish facial features, though soft puppy dog eyes. Wears a variety of clothing, but usually black dress pants, black or white tank tops, dress shoes and denim fleece jackets or jumpers when appropriate. His voice is low and gutteral with a slight Irish accent, he's about 5'10 and a bit scrawny.
Personality/Background: Kind of shy, definitely isn't antisocial or socially anxious by any means but prefers to keep to himself and out of the spotlight. Is very gentle and soft and caring, very in-tune with respecting peoples desires and boundaries. Absolutely loves showering people in gifts and dates and physical affection, he holds a lot of love in his heart for the people close to him.
He was raised on a farm with his two parents and sister in the mountains, but moved away at 19 due to his parents finding out about his sexuality and kicking him out. He developed a really bad drinking and smoking habit while trying to find himself on his feet, and it isn't as bad anymore but he generally tries to stay away from alcohol as even a sip can send him on week-long benders.
He suffers from joint hypermobility syndrome, has a back brace due to a spine curvature, and has a skeletal deformity in his left ankle that causes him to need a walking cane, though short distances he can manage walking without but would prefer not to.
Otherwise, he lives with his border collie Jack in a little house on his own in the woods, but not too far off from town. He plays guitar and enjoys being with his dog in his free time, but he works as an illustrator full time. He never went to college and doesn't intend to, thinks he's too 'dumb and poor' for that stuff, and wouldn't be able to afford it either. Though, he's very naturally smart due to his memory and problem solving talents and has a particularly gifted mind.

I have no preferences for your OC appearance, personality and height wise as long as they're a close age to Mason because;
Plot wise, I'd like the OC's to have been childhood best friends and neighbours, the kind where every dinner was spent at each others houses, they were inseperable, constantly by each others sides and had tiny crushes on each other all throughout that time. And around 13-14 they started dating, lasting until they were 19 years old when Mason moved away to a new town, leaving them behind in their hometown.
Years later, in their late 20's, YC happens to move to Masons new town, and they run into each other again, immediately rekindling what they used to have when they were younger. Yet obviously, there's a lot that they never got to work out years before.
If you'd like, we can move their ages up or down and we can get real slice of life-y with them getting married and stuff in the long run with timeskips. But we can take it any kind of direction you'd like if you have other ideas. I'd also like to hear ideas and I'd like you to be specific on what youre looking for out of it and out of their relationship if you message me.
That being said, if you're interested, message me just general info on ur OC and how you'd like to write this. I won't respond to 'hi' or anything, and I'd REALLY prefer you don't be flimsy about your OC, it can get frustrating. At the least, I'd appreciate a little self introduction!

Hi. I'll start with my basics, I'm looking for an experienced and detailed roleplayer who can match my level and how much interest I put in roleplaying. I don't have plot limits to roleplay besides major character de*th, but if you do express them to me clearly to me and when roleplaying, if you find yourself uncomfortable tell me to stop what I'm doing wrong please. I usually write around advanced literate but I can go even longer if I get super into it, otherwise I really do try to match my partners length. Im okay with anything from the shorter end of semi-lit to longer end of adv-lit. I am in the GMT+1 time zone and am not in the position where I absolutely cannot respond very often, so i respond generally consistently and atleast a few times a day. I write in third person only and do so on discord, and this is NOT a smut orientated roleplay.
Here's the OC I'd like to use for this roleplay:

Name: Mason Murphy.
Age: 28
Ethnicity: Irish-American
Sexuality & Gender: Bisexual Cis Man.
Physical appearance: Brown hair that's thick and cut in a wolfcut kind of style (reaching his mid neck at the longest points), green eyes with eye bags and sharp-ish facial features, though soft puppy dog eyes. Wears a variety of clothing, but usually black dress pants, black or white tank tops, dress shoes and denim fleece jackets or jumpers when appropriate. His voice is low and gutteral with a slight Irish accent, he's about 5'10 and a bit scrawny.
Personality/Background: Kind of shy, definitely isn't antisocial or socially anxious by any means but prefers to keep to himself and out of the spotlight. Is very gentle and soft and caring, very in-tune with respecting peoples desires and boundaries. Absolutely loves showering people in gifts and dates and physical affection, he holds a lot of love in his heart for the people close to him.
He was raised on a farm with his two parents and sister in the mountains, but moved away at 19 due to his parents finding out about his sexuality and kicking him out. He developed a really bad drinking and smoking habit while trying to find himself on his feet, and it isn't as bad anymore but he generally tries to stay away from alcohol as even a sip can send him on week-long benders.
He suffers from joint hypermobility syndrome, has a back brace due to a spine curvature, and has a skeletal deformity in his left ankle that causes him to need a walking cane, though short distances he can manage walking without but would prefer not to.
Otherwise, he lives with his border collie Jack in a little house on his own in the woods, but not too far off from town. He plays guitar and enjoys being with his dog in his free time, but he works as an illustrator full time. He never went to college and doesn't intend to, thinks he's too 'dumb and poor' for that stuff, and wouldn't be able to afford it either. Though, he's very naturally smart due to his memory and problem solving talents and has a particularly gifted mind.

I have no preferences for your OC appearance, personality and height wise as long as they're a close age to Mason because;
Plot wise, I'd like the OC's to have been childhood best friends and neighbours, the kind where every dinner was spent at each others houses, they were inseperable, constantly by each others sides and had tiny crushes on each other all throughout that time. And around 13-14 they started dating, lasting until they were 19 years old when Mason moved away to a new town, leaving them behind in their hometown.
Years later, in their late 20's, YC happens to move to Masons new town, and they run into each other again, immediately rekindling what they used to have when they were younger. Yet obviously, there's a lot that they never got to work out years before.
If you'd like, we can move their ages up or down and we can get real slice of life-y with them getting married and stuff in the long run with timeskips. But we can take it any kind of direction you'd like if you have other ideas. I'd also like to hear ideas and I'd like you to be specific on what youre looking for out of it and out of their relationship if you message me.
That being said, if you're interested, message me just general info on ur OC and how you'd like to write this. I won't respond to 'hi' or anything, and I'd REALLY prefer you don't be flimsy about your OC, it can get frustrating. At the least, I'd appreciate a little self introduction!

On clean out day we flushed a bunch of pasta sauce down the disposal which created standing water in the sink. I had a plumber out the next day to auger the drain through a clean out that is right above the line enters the basement floor. He aigered the line and noticed grease all over the auger when he pulled it out. Running water down the sink it just backed up again.
The second day they came back out with a hydro jet and ran that from the same clean out. The hydro jetting was causing water to come out the clean out so they ran a camera down the line.
7 feet into the line from the clean out port, so about 5 feet under the concrete, there was grease clogging the line that looked like cement to me. He rammed the camera into the grease and it was a solid mass.
From this, they deduced they would need to cut up the floor and replace 25-40 feet of pipe at a cost of $5500.
They were supposed to come out and do the work on Friday but got busy and never showed. Over the course of the next day I ran some water down the sink, and to my surprise the water was flowing again.
Now I'm at a crossroads where I won't feel great jackhammering the basement floor and spending $5000 when the drain is actually working.
I understand that a plumber is working against a clock, and also is needing to 100% fix problems so they don't arise again, so I understand the events and decisions that took place, but what is my best course of action now? If the drain is clearing fine, does it make sense to replace the pipe at this point? If they ran the camera down again I'm guessing there's still be a mass of grease, but since the pipe is flowing is it possible that diligent enzyme treatments and watching what we put down the drain I could fix the problem going forward without needing to replace the pipe?
Thanks for the advice.

This year’s arena was known as the Everglades. It was a swamp environment spanning four kilometers, making this slightly smaller than the vast savannah of the previous games. The arena was littered with tall mossy trees thin enough for tributes to climb. The high density of the trees along with the thick canopy of foliage above trapped a lot of heat within. There was some debate regarding the amount of water to be pumped in the arena. Due to Head Gamemaker’s preconceived ideas on the mutts and arena events, the crystal-clear swamp water that encompassed 80% of the arena was 15ft at its deepest. There were patches of raised grassland scattered throughout the arena, giving tributes a few areas of relief from the deep waters. The cornucopia stood in the center of a small clearing with the podiums in a semicircle near the southern perimeter. The depth of the water was ankle height, the gamemakers not wanting to hinder the tribute’s movements for the bloodbath. There were a decent number of supplies, however all food and non-weaponous supplies were stored in dark green waterproof bags floating in the puddles. Traditional Hunger Games weapons were also seen floating in the puddles and propped inside the small cornucopia structure.
When the podiums rose out of the arena, tributes felt the humid heat weigh down on them. A few tributes were relieved by the aquatic setting, especially the District 4 tributes. Pearl was wedged between Laurel (7) and Logan (11). She felt intimidated by Laurel’s muscles and decided to ignore her in favour of scanning for escape routes. After pinpointing two routes with more tree cover, she scanned the lineup for Mortimer. She spotted him between Wren (5) and Jack. He noticed Jack and gave him a greeting. Jack asked if it was true Tobias Stephens was dead, him nodding in response. Mortimer said “If it’s all the same to you, I’ll leave you alone for now. Just out of respect for Tobias and for helping deliver the weed to me.” Jack thanked him before searching for Cat. Cat was found standing between Nikita (2) and Neutron (12). Nikita tried to intimidate her, but she brushed it aside. She spotted Mortimer and Jack conversing, pleased it wasn’t confrontational. Mortimer spotted her and she waved to him. He stared at her for a moment before turning his eyes to the cornucopia. She looked at the cornucopia as well, aiming her sights on one of the bigger waterproof bags.
When the gong sounded, Cat sprinted forward towards the bag she set her eyes on. Nikita attempted to tackle her to the ground, but Cat was quick enough to somersault out of the way. She frantically searched for a way out, choosing to run northwest away from the careers. However, she spotted Pearl fighting Mishti (10) for a bag. Mishti was successful at obtaining the bag and pushed Pearl to the ground before grabbing a knife nearby. Cat bolted towards the two girls, hopping over the fallen Burlap (8)’s body. Before Mishti could strike Pearl with her knife, Cat tackled her to the ground. Cat pushed Mishti’s face under the ankle high water and used her knee to keep her head down. She wrenched the knife and pushed the blade into the back of her skull. She looked up to see Pearl already gone. She turned to see a sword propped against the cornucopia wall and decided to risk it.
Meanwhile, Jack hopped off his podium but was swept off his feet by the slippery mud. He frantically pulled himself up, but was relieved that all the nearby tributes were completely ignoring him. He witnessed the first death of the games when Andrei (2) stomped on Terry (5)’s neck, snapping it in an odd angle. He ran alongside the podiums to steer clear of the ongoing chaos all the while searching for Cat. He managed to spot her closing in on a sword. He ran towards her, unaware of an arrow courtesy of Jassy (12) narrowly missing his head. As he neared Cat, he noticed Logan (11) creeping closer to her with a heavy axe in hand. He yelled at Cat to look out, but she didn’t hear. Logan raised his axe at the unaware Cat. Jack jumped forward and pushed Cat out of the line of fire. The axe lodged itself into Jack’s head, sending him falling to the ground. Cat was horrified upon seeing her partner brutally killed in front of her. She decided she let his sacrifice not be in vain and retreated from the clearing with a bag and sword in hand.
Mortimer was one of the first to reach the cornucopia. He snatched a trident from the back of the cornucopia structure. He turned to exit the building only to come face to face with Laurel (7). She had an axe in her hand and voiced her intentions of killing him for her partner Wolvthorne (7). Mortimer warned her to get out of his way, but she charged forwards. Mortimer used his trident to catch her first swipe, pushing her backwards. He swung the trident, cutting Laurel’s face. She was unperturbed and tried striking him. This time, he dodged and thrust the end of his trident in her ribs. He used her brief moment of painful staggering to stab her in the head. He flung her body to the side like a ragdoll and ran back outside. He noticed two bags close together and decided to risk grabbing them. He scooped up both bags with his trident, with one hanging on each side before retreating. He fell to the ground after tripping over the corpse of Shoya (3). As he pulled himself up, he noticed Pearl hiding behind a tree beckoning him to follow her. As he ran, he heard Wolvthorne’s roars of anger after discovering his partner dead. So angry in fact that he managed to disembowel and kill Nikita (2) before escaping east.
When the bloodbath was over, Artemis and Luther followed the order of events. Artemis enjoyed this bloodbath as not only did they have a couple gory kills, but some rare moments of honor. Luther listed Terry (5) as the first death at the hands of Andrei (2), comparing it to the first kill of the 12th Hunger Games when Sparta (D2 female tribute) curb stomped Fleming (D6 male tribute). Cameras then spotted Burlap (8) stabbed in the eye by Olivine (1), making him the second death. On the opposite side was Shoya (3), whose throat was slit by Lionel (1). The next chronological death was Mishti (10), with Artemis wondering why Cat saved Pearl. Luther speculated that they were probably in an alliance. The fifth death was Laurel (7). Artemis felt bummed out to not see more of her as she seemed like victor material. The sixth and seventh deaths took place almost simultaneously. Number six was Neutron (12) after he was stabbed numerous times by Andrei (2). Two seconds afterwards was the death of Jack. Artemis declared his death as honorable and as a redemption from his disastrous interview. The last two kills of this year’s bloodbath were Ryetta (9) and Nikita (2). Ryetta was killed by Lionel when she jumped on his back and tried to gouge his eyes out. Lionel wrenched her off by the hair and bashed her head into the cornucopia structure. Artemis then moved to Nikita’s death and described Wolvthorne as savage. Luther wrapped the bloodbath analysis up and announced nine bloodbath kills, two more than the previous year.
Cat continued to create distance from the clearing. She followed as much grassland as possible, having to wade through the water at a few points. Suddenly, she came across a wide expanse of water with no land in sight. She slipped on a loose twig and fell to the ground at the edge of this lake. Her backpack spilled its contents upon impact, its contents consisting of a sandwich, four fruit packs, a pocket knife, a bottle of water, string, and a small medkit. The thoughts of losing the items she fought so hard for sent her in a panic. She reached out and tried to gather as much as she could. However, she failed to save the sandwich, the knife, and three of the fruit packets as they all sank below its depths.
After saving the rest of her items, she realized her hyperventilating continued. She crossed her legs and put her supplies to the side. The confused viewers in Maximus Square watched as she took deep methodical breaths while moving her arms up and down. They began to realize she was meditating in order to compose herself. Viewers watched as the gamemakers displayed her heart rate and the number slowly decrease. Soon, Cat was able to compose herself. She decided to inspect her remaining supplies, keeping her sword by her side. She opened the medkit and was disappointed by the lack of quantity. It consisted of one roll of medical tape, two bandages, and strangely a wax bottle of clear liquid. She inspected the label, which revealed the contents to be hydrogen peroxide. She took note of this and pocketed the medkit, string, and the one fruit pack.
Cat lastly picked up the water bottle and realized it to be empty. She internally debated collecting water from the lake in front of her. She cautiously dipped a couple fingers in the lake and then tasted the droplets on her fingertips. Tasting nothing out of sorts, she picked up her water bottle. She was interrupted by the mandatory cannons, signaling the end of the bloodbath. Cat quickly scanned her surroundings while carefully listening for tributes. After hearing nothing, she turned back to the water and felt her heart drop. The once clear water had now become cloudy and murky. Cat became dejected, knowing she couldn’t trust the water anymore. She let tears fall from her eyes for a few moments, mourning her dreadful situation. Artemis was about to tease her crying, when she was interrupted by Cat slapping herself in the face. Cat told herself aloud that she had to get it together and plan her next move. She continued to scan the lake and her surroundings. She noticed a near consistent path of grassland heading west around the lake. She decided to head that direction, whispering to herself that “sailor boy” was sure to head that direction. She packed her things and started her journey west along the lake’s borders, with her sword at the ready.
Back in the commentator’s booth, Artemis noted her determination to find the District 4 tributes, speculating whether she had a crush on Mortimer. Luther diverted the topic to the lake. He educated the audience on the layout of the lake, showing through schematics that it spanned at least 35% of the entire arena. At the end of the lake was a thick accumulation of trees and brush the cameras refused to go past. When he and Artemis questioned Head Gamemaker Grimstone, he told them there was a hidden surprise on the possibility a tribute figures out a way across.
The two hosts began checking tabs on the surviving tributes. Olivine and Lionel (1) had split from the clearing and were in the south eastern sector. They watched from the safety of a couple trees as Andrei (2) and Wolvthorne (7) gathered supplies at the cornucopia. Surprisingly, Andrei was indifferent to his new ally having killed Nikita. The two debated their next move, Wolvthorne desiring to find Mortimer for revenge. Andrei admitted that while he was their biggest threat, he would have to put his grievances aside for them to survive the arena. Cameras diverted their attention to Carnelia and Logan (11) as they neared the southeastern perimeter. In close proximity was Horace (10) who was stalking them, using the trees and small mud banks as cover. Vista (3) had climbed up a tree and rested there. Wren (5) had struck up an alliance with Jassy (12) when the two crossed paths in the centre of the arena. Peggy (8) reached the northern perimeter and planted roots at the shore of the lake. John (9) had retreated west and was camouflaging himself with mud. He was nearly seen by Cat minutes into her trek west, but decided against confronting her upon seeing her sword. Artemis urged Luther to point the cameras to the District 4 tributes, which he obliged.
Mortimer had successfully distanced himself from the cornucopia. Cameras captured him diverting the supplies from one of his two backpacks into the other, discarding the empty one in the mud. It was around this time when the cannons sounded. The combined supplies included an empty water bottle, three fruit packs, a sandwich, a bundle of sturdy rope, a sleeping bag, and a small cooking pot. He was half a kilometre away from the lake’s southwest shore when he stopped walking. He turned around and asked the forest if hiding from him was really necessary. Pearl stepped out from behind a tree, asking how he knew she was there. He claimed that he spotted her dirty blonde hair poking out. He asked why she was hiding from him. Pearl asked if he was going to kill her. Mortimer was confused by this and questioned why he would kill her. Pearl defended herself by pointing out how much he hated accepting help from others and thought he would go lone wolf. Mortimer rolled his eyes, muttering “This again” under his breath. He put his right hand up and solemnly swore he wouldn’t kill her, for Gill’s sake. Pearl cautiously stepped out and thanked him. He asked what she had in her bag. She showed her contents, seeing a rain poncho, a water bottle, two apples, and a flint and steel.
Mortimer revealed his contents as well, noting the emptiness of the bottles. He suggested they continue going west, but Pearl pointed at a tall tree nearby. She said she would climb it and get a good vantage point. Mortimer didn’t object as she marched over to the tree and began climbing. While she was climbing higher, cameras noticed how antsy Mortimer was. In the commentator’s booth, Artemis said it appeared as if he was tempted to ditch her. Luther agreed with her observation, but didn’t believe he would just yet. Pearl reached seven metres in height and began surveying the arena. She reported to Mortimer that everything looked the same until she looked northwest and spotted the lake. Mortimer declared they would go there. She agreed and the two began their journey.
Out of nowhere, Pearl asked if he had anything against her father Alexander Riverstone. Mortimer claimed he didn’t and thought he was an honest working man. She retorted by asking for his reason to not accept his or anyone else’s help. Mortimer became annoyed by hearing this question for the umpteenth time, but Pearl insisted he explain. She already heard the story from Gill and wanted to hear his perspective, explaining, “After years of waitressing and hearing all the gossip, I’ve learned there is always another side.” Mortimer sighed and admitted he should’ve accepted his and Gill’s help as they had no gain in doublecrossing him. He cited his mother’s abandonment and the resulting playground bullying as the cornerstone reasons for him not trusting others. Pearl asked how old his mother was when she left, him answering six. Viewers weren’t aware of this detail and felt bad for him.
Before Pearl could press for more, the two had arrived at the lake. They noticed the murkiness of the water and surmised that it was unsafe to drink. Mortimer wondered how it was murky when it was crystal clear earlier. Pearl said she noticed the water became cloudy the second the cannons sounded, deducing that the water will become much more unsafe to drink as the death toll increases. The commentators and gamemakers were impressed with her accurate deduction but pointed out it was Jassy (12) who discovered it first though in a joking manner. Pearl however was more curious about the smell, comparing it to the sewage port at the Cardiff Cliffs. Mortimer agreed and pondered over what to do next.
Pearl climbed up another tree and spotted the stretching shoreline. Mortimer hypothesised how due to the unnatural shape and location of the lake, along with recent Hunger Games trends, there could be something in the northwestern sector on the other side. Pearl sarcastically commented, “Add a boat to the list of things we desperately need.” Mortimer’s eyes lit up and said, “Why not make our own?”, pointing out how they could construct a raft out of the sturdier trees and tie them together with rope, adding that being on the lake would keep them far from other tributes. Pearl admitted it was a good plan, but considered water as the utmost priority. When asked to test the water, Pearl gagged on the taste. Mortimer pulled out his pot and gave it to Pearl, telling her to start a fire.
Around the time Mortimer started his raft project, Cat was taking a break from all the trudging through the damp grassland. She held her only fruit pack in her fingertips and stared at it for several minutes. Viewers could tell she was speculating on whether or not to eat it. She decided against it and put it back in her backpack. She watched the still lake while licking her cracked lips to keep them moist. She dipped two of her fingers into the cloudy water and tasted the droplets. She instantly gagged and spit them out, using her sleeve to wipe her mouth. She then broke off a button from the backpack and stuck it in her mouth. Luther seemed impressed by this, educating the audience on this unique practice of preventing dry mouth.
Cat decided her break was over and stood up with supplies in tow. Suddenly, she heard voices coming from behind her. She listened carefully and recognized the voice of Olivine and Lionel (1). Cameras showed the two bypassing Andrei (2) and Wolvthorne (7) after the two journeyed north to hunt for tributes. While raiding the cornucopia, Olivine played with a pair of binoculars and spotted Pearl in the tree. The two decided to go after her. Cat frantically searched for a place to hide. There were no nearby upright trees and she didn’t have enough time to camouflage herself in the mud. So, in desperation, she burrowed her backpack in the mudbank and waded herself into the lake. Cat ducked her head underwater just in time for Olivine and Lionel to reveal themselves. Many viewers in Maximus Square were at the edge of their seats as the two careers initially began walking past Cat’s location. The situation was filled with more tension when the two stopped before moving out of sight. The two discussed their plan of confronting Pearl, knowing Mortimer is most likely with her. Lionel assured her that the two could take him together. Underwater cameras captured Cat’s face as she struggled to hold her breath. Based on the quality of the cameras’ footage, it appeared that Cat was able to overhear their conversation. Just when it looked like Cat was about to give up, the two careers finally resumed their journey west.
Cat thrust herself out of the water, taking in deep breaths. Supporters of Cat in Maximus Square breathed out in relief as well. Cat dragged herself to shore and flipped herself on her back. She laid there for a few moments catching her breath and wiping the mud off her face. When she held her arm up, she noticed a black spot on her forearm. She grabbed it, pulled it off, and turned it towards her. She instantly recognized it from its sucker and rows of teeth, straight from her studies in the fauna sector in the aquatic station. It was a black worm leech, a relatively new species introduced to the world through the crossbreeding of the European medicinal leech and the terrestrial leech. Cat’s face morphed into one of pure disgust and fright. It took all her inner strength not to scream when she looked down and counted eleven leeches on her legs and forearms. She shakily ripped the leeches off her body one by one, lip quivering as she did so. She tossed the leeches aside and crab-walked away from the shore.
Cat sat on a log for almost an hour, traumatized by the experience. After composing herself, she grabbed her backpack and was about to leave when she recalled Olivine and Lionel’s plan. Realizing Pearl and Mortimer were in danger, she pulled out her empty water bottle. Capital viewers were confused at first, expecting her to “run for the hills”. Their confusion turned to interest as Cat scooped up the leeches and put them inside her bottle along with some of the lakewater. In the commentator’s booth, Artemis was holding herself, cringing at the sight of the leeches. She wondered why Cat would pick them back up. Luther guessed she would use them either to help her allies or food, noting that the leeches were edible. Artemis squealed at the thought. As Cat was about to start moving again, a cannon sounded. It was revealed to be Vista (3) after she climbed down from her tree and decided to bathe in the river. She was also overtaken by leeches and screamed very loudly at the sight of them. Andrei (2) and Wolvthorne (7) heard her screams and found her writhing on the ground swiping at the leeches on her body. Andrei ended her suffering by plunging his sword into her head.
Two hours passed by without incident. Capital viewers still had some nuggets of tribute activity to entertain them. Carnelia and Logan (11) had successfully captured a handful of leeches and were attempting to cook them. Their stalker Horace (10) watched from nearby. The biggest area of interest was with the District 4 tributes and the approaching careers increasing the suspense in Maximus Square. While Mortimer was beginning the construction of the raft, Pearl boiled some water in the pot. She noticed her partner testing his rope on the logs he acquired and showing disappointment with it not being enough to secure the full measurements.
While the water boiled, Pearl gathered the moss growing off the trees and weaved some twine together. She tossed the twine to Mortimer and told him to test it out. She rolled her eyes at the look of skepticism on his face. She challenged him by asking why he was skeptical over some twine. Mortimer claimed he wasn’t suspicious of any malintent but was wondering why she would make it for him. Pearl simply stated, “We’re partners aren’t we?” Mortimer thanked her and tested the twine. He was satisfied with its durability and asked if she could make more. Pearl beckoned him to come to the fire. He walked over and was perplexed by the sight before him. The water still resembled the murky lake water. Pearl claimed she left the water to boil for ten minutes. Mortimer stuck his fingers taste tested it and spat it out in disgust. He said it wasn’t as bad tasting as the lakewater, but was still unsafe to drink. Frustrated, he went back to his raft while Pearl resumed making twine.
The two were unaware that Olivine and Lionel (1) were very close by and were able to pinpoint their location after hearing them talking. Lionel stepped forward and peeked his head behind a tree, ready to approach the unsuspecting Pearl. Pearl lifted her head to wipe the sweat off her face and was horrified to see him towering over her. She screamed at the top of her lungs and sprinted off not a second later. Lionel chased after her and swung his sword down toward her. Pearl shut her eyes preparing for the end, but only heard a single metallic thud. She opened her eyes to see the sword blocked by Mortimer’s trident.
Mortimer barked at Pearl to get behind him and she obeyed. Olivine made herself known brandishing a sword as well, having failed to secure a bow in the bloodbath. The arena and Maximus Square were quiet as the tributes slowly circled each other, Mortimer and Pearl taking measures to not be surrounded by their adversaries. Mortimer tried to make Olivine the closer enemy, knowing she was not nearly as experienced with a sword as Lionel. What he didn't know was she still had decent skills with the sword due to it being her "secondary weapon" that she decided to hide during training. Lionel swung first once again, his blade being caught by the trident. Olivine stepped in to strike while Mortimer was distracted. However, he spotted her and smacked her across the face with the back of the handle. She fell back into the water but before he could take advantage, Lionel went back on the offence.
The next three minutes kept the Capital at the edge of their seat. The two were evenly matched and trapped in a cycle of attack, block, and retaliation all while Pearl watched on, frozen to her spot. Lionel got his sword caught in the trident for the eighth time, but surprised everyone by twisting the blade downwards, pushing the prongs down and exposing Mortimer’s head. Lionel kept twisting in hopes Mortimer would drop his weapon, but he persisted. Just when it seemed like Mortimer was about to give up, he headbutted Lionel, dazing him long enough to free his weapon. Then in a swift motion, Mortimer thrust his trident up Lionel’s chin into his brain, sounding his cannon instantly.
Mortimer couldn’t celebrate for long as he heard Olivine charging towards him. She sliced at him in a frenzy, managing to cut his right eyebrow. She used this distraction to punch him in the face. Mortimer stumbled back a few inches, surprised by the power in her punch. Olivine brought her sword up high, ready to strike him down. Mortimer gave her a powerful uppercut, sending Olivine back three feet. The punch caused her to bite through her tongue, it falling to the ground. Olivine moaned in muffled agony at the sight of it on the floor as her mouth filled with blood. Mortimer thrust the trident in her chest. Suddenly, someone came rushing into the small clearing. It was Cat, having finally arrived to help Mortimer. She paused at the carnage laid before her and put her sword down. She said, “Guess you didn’t need help then.” Olivine’s cannon sounded seconds later.
The viewers in Maximus Square went crazy, cheering for Mortimer’s triumphant victory. In the commentator’s booth, Artemis and Luther were buzzing as well, the latter declaring this as one of the greatest fight sequences in the history of the Hunger Games. Historic documents reflected that sentiment as well. The cheering quickly died down, waiting to see his reaction to Cat’s sudden arrival. Mortimer furrowed his brows and backed her into a tree, saying, “You! You’ve been following us?!” Cat put her hands up and apologized for scaring him. She asked to at least explain herself. Pearl came to her defense and pleaded with him to hear her out. Mortimer relented and told her to spill.
Cat regaled her experiences so far, revealing the leeches’ existence and how she found them. Pearl rummaged through her things and pulled out the water bottle, but Cat warned her about the leeches inside. Pearl looked inside and identified the species, revealing they were edible. She walked towards the fire with the bottle. Cat turned back to Mortimer and told him, “I know you are reluctant to trust me, especially considering where we are. But seeing that I helped you with your training score and have something valuable to share, I think you need me as an ally.” Back in the Capital, Artemis said she admired Cat’s guts while Luther expressed interest in the dynamic they’re about to see, confident Mortimer would say yes. Mortimer looked back at Pearl inspecting the leeches, then the open backpack. He relented and accepted her invitation into the group, but warned he would end her if she did anything remotely bad.
Mortimer invited her to sit down by the campsite and go over what they learned. The small fire burnt out and Pearl was trying and failing to reignite it. Cat finally picked up on the rotten egg smell emanating throughout the arena. Mortimer noticed as well, claiming it was worse than before. Pearl asked if they noticed how it became worse the minute the careers died. The two were silent and realised she was right. Pearl speculated that not only will the water be rendered more undrinkable each death, but the smell will get worse. Cat compared the smell to the piles of feces left in Willard Alleyway by warmweed addicts and alcoholics. Mortimer suddenly had an epiphany. He realized that the rotten egg smell meant traces of flammable sulphur were present. Cat suggested they search for the source of the smell before it gets dark. The three fanned out. The search for the rotten smell garnered some moments of comedy. Viewers were laughing at the tributes picking up random objects and bringing them to their faces, left in tears at their disgusted facial expressions. It was ultimately Pearl who discovered the source, having explored the lake shore and found the source to be green algae barely touching the surface. She held her breath while collecting some and handing it to Mortimer. He wringed it off as much water as possible before shooting sparks at it with the flint and steel. After several tries, the algae ignited.
A fire was successfully crafted, and the trio resumed boiling the water. Cat speculated why boiling it wasn’t enough, recalling how it worked for Corpse Beckford in the 10th Hunger Games. Pearl suddenly squealed and stood up. One of the leeches escaped the bottle and began squirming on the ground. Mortimer picked it up and examined the creature. He noticed how sticky his fingertips were, his facing morphing into what Artemis coined as the “thinking face”. Mortimer used the tip of his trident to scrape some of the slime and thrust it into the pot. Cat was about to protest, but Mortimer recalled the species of leech and that it resided in the Rocky Shores neighborhood. He explained how the poorer citizens of District 4 would use the slime of discarded leeches to better purify dirty water. Cat commended him for noticing this and offered to ration the food for dinner. Pearl continued to create twine for the raft, but cameras noticed her constantly watching the nearby trees.
The sun was nearly out of sight and the water was still not fully purified. Mortimer was frustrated that the slime wasn’t enough. Cat told him to calm down and assured him they would figure it out. Pearl was still making twine for the raft when she cut herself with a tiny splinter entangled in the moss. Cat grabbed the first aid kit to bandage the wound before it became infected. Mortimer commented how he wasn’t aware therapists needed to know first aid. Cat responded, “Well, in a district full of addicts, you get a lot of practice.” Pearl asked her why she wanted to be a therapist like Phoebe. Cat explained how she used to be one of the young “zombies” hanging out in Willard Alleyway experimenting with new batches of warmweed. One day when she was thirteen, she had a respiratory attack. Her supposed friends were indifferent to her predicament and fled when Phoebe and peacekeeper escorts walked by. Phoebe spotted her, brought her to the hospital, and took care of her. In the commentator’s booth, Artemis was curious as to why she was dredging up traumatic experiences so nonchalantly. Luther guessed she truly moved past it and told her to keep listening. Cat further described a long conversation she had with Phoebe and how much it changed her life. After that, Cat strongly desired to get clean and was successful after nine arduous months. This was the part where Cat began to feel emotional. Cat explained that she wanted to help others get clean the same way she did, so no more kids are left to die in alleyways. She then revealed that when her mother died of an overdose, it was enough to convince her brother to get clean as well after years of begging. After years of dealing with erratic addicts, she claimed that no one scared her anymore, not even Mortimer. Mortimer apologised for being cross with her before, receiving an accepting smile in return.
While Cat bandaged Pearl’s wound, Mortimer noticed the small bottle of hydrogen peroxide. He examined it and put some droplets in the water. Suddenly, the cloudy substance in the water completely cleared. The three stared in amazement. Pearl asked who would test it first. Mortimer looked at Cat, who annoyedly said, “Fine I’ll do it.” She took a sip and said it tasted like water. After a few moments of no effect, Cat congratulated Mortimer for successfully purifying the water. Mortimer seemed really proud of himself. Suddenly, two sponsor gifts fell from the sky, one with a 4 and one with a 6. The D4 gift contained a mini chemistry kit with droppers, tiny bowls, and vials. A note attached read “I told you friends are the best - G”. The D6 bag contained a picnic of sandwiches and fruit. Pearl was ready to dig in, but Cat insisted they rest as the sun had fully set. Mortimer appeared disappointed, but admitted she was right. He volunteered to take first watch, blushing when Cat claimed he did so just to play with his new set. The two rested while Mortimer got to work purifying more water with his new kit. The portraits of the fallen were presented in the sky. The fallen included Olivine and Lionel (1), Nikita (2), Vista and Shoya (3), Terry (5), Jack (6), Laurel (7), Burlap (8), Ryetta (9), Mishti (10), and Neutron (12). This left 12 tributes remaining.

Hello everyone my car Ac compressor Clutch making a noise however it has no other issues yet, mechanic told me in order to replace the compressor Clutch he needs to take out the compressor because there is no way to remove the clutch in place and they charge a lot for this service, do anyone knows if this is true and the compressor Clutch can't be replaced without taking out the compressor ? thanks

Hello, my name is Jack and I’m pretty much what the title says! I’m a 6’2 tattooed emo nerd with a bad bod without the kids. You can see what I look like on my page. I’m just looking to chat and see where things go! So here is a bit more about me ☺️

• I’m a massive film fan. I studied it at university and I’ve created a few short films in my time. Some of my favourite films are Paddington 2, the wind rises, perfect blue, Pans labyrinth and Oldboy just to name a few. I have a blu-ray collection of 160 films currently which has all different types of films there. Tell me about your favourite film and why?
  
• I’m a big music person. I will mainly listen to rock, alternative, emo, indie and anything else like that. Some bands/artist I enjoy are twenty one pilots, my chemical romance, Enter Shikari, fall out boy, paramore, linkin park, Joji, Japanese Breakfast and Eden. I love concerts a lot, currently I’m going to 9 in total this year!
  
• I’m a big weeb. I love anime and manga. Some anime I love is fullmetal alchemist brotherhood, mob psycho 100, devilman crybaby, jujutsu kaisen, cyberpunk edge runner and more. As for manga I’m currently reading Kaiju No. 8, chainsaw man, and black clover. I enjoyed all Fujimoto one shots, Tokyo ghoul, and Haikyu!
  
• I’m big into nature, hiking and walking. I’ve started hiking this year and connecting with nature. I have a few plants which I look after and love a lot haha. They help me a lot
  
• Lastly I enjoy body mods. I have 14 tattoos ranging from anime, music and films to mental health and sentimental stuff.
  

That’s pretty much me! If you’re reading this I’d love to hear from you but please make a lil bit of effort in. Have a good day ☺️

TL;DR: I'm looking for a non-exclusive FWB arrangement to live the best sex of my life in a repeatable way before looking for the mother of my kids. Super picky on the physical front and not that young anymore so this task seems daunting.
I (34M) just got out of a 6-year relationship, a few months ago, because I realized I did not truly know what I wanted.
I) I now know I want two things:
1) Experience sex I truly enjoy with a woman with whom I also have chemistry as a person, on a repeatable basis (anywhere between 6 months and 2-3 years), and without making any promises as to where the relationship will go, and without any promises of exclusivity (of course from both sides), at least before the first 3-6 months of sex have passed. I may need to experience this a few times since although I have dated and slept with women before, I never experienced exactly this.
2) then, and only then, can I start considering looking for the mother of my kids, and stay with her the 20 years it takes to raise our kids, since I do want kids and not too late in life (before 45, hopefully before 40). She might be one of the girls from step (1), if it turns out we both simply can't let go of each other and everything becomes solid.
II) Why I think like this:
1) Almost no one in my extended family could stay together while their kids grew up. My parents are no exception. Of course I can't control it, but I want to do everything I reasonably can to flush the "what ifs" out of my system before I commit for 20+ years, especially since I did have some serious cheating history back when I was younger. I don't want to settle for who I can find to then stumble on an intense, chemical match I have all the pain in the world saying no to. Of course this happens but if I've lived through such matches before, at least I'll know I'm not completely missing on it.
2) previous 6-year relationship was almost without actual sex (everything but, 3 times in 6 years). The two LTRs before (3 years, 5 years), we did have sex but I was not physically attracted to them enough to be happy. I was 100% physically attracted to #3 (most recent one) but after much back and forth, we both understood she essentially wanted true ("lifetime") commitment from my part before really opening up to that part of the relationship.
III) Why I feel daunted:
1) I have no trouble approaching random girls in many places, strike a conversation and get phone numbers. What I do have a problem with, is finding someone I'm actually physically attracted to. I'm super picky when it comes to who I like physically :-/. I can be attracted on the personality with much more people than I can physically. I've tried "growing the physical attraction from the emotional/feelings bond" during my first 5 year LTR: it did not work even after all that time.
For example, recently I was at a huge conference on sustainability, with a large part of the crowd in their 20s ans 30s. In the thousands of people I could see there during daytime, maybe a few girls lit my radar. At the end of event party: zero. When I do approach the girls I do find attractive, since the sample is small, so far I only found girls with interests completely at odds with mine, and no chemistry as people. I could not find common ground even trying many topics and letting them talk about and develop anything they were interested about. So it did not work.
2) The place where I find the most girls I am attracted to physically is on the street. I live in a large European city, and people of all ages, classes and circles simply can't avoid the street to go somewhere, as there is not enough room for cars to be efficient here. I'll go by a large crowd and spot : "there. that is the physical type of girl I am attracted to".
Unfortunately, the street is also one of the most awkward places to meet someone. I might be speeding up on a bike in the opposite direction, while she is walking with her family to a brunch a stone's throw away.
3) even if I do find someone I'm attracted to, that I actually meet, with some mutual personality chemistry, and who is single, I know I will be upfront about what I want as soon as I will sense ambiguity (no promises and even no exclusivity, until we have mutually enjoyable sex regularly), and this might put even more filtering on who will accept this. I've done "half promises by omission" in the past and now I just can't do this. I might also do some exclusivity for a few months to be invested in the relationship, but I won't go beyond a few months and I'll probably move on, if great sex does not materialize. I've tried waiting it out before, it did not work.
4) Time is running out. I am attracted to girls in their 20s (around 22-28) but I'm 34. If I reach 40 before finding who I'm actually looking for for phase 1 of my dating life, my chances will dwindle very rapidly. Already, I'm out of many circles where it would be easier to find them.
5) I work a hell of a lot in my professional life, but I won't have the finances that go with it at least for a few more years (long term startup). So it's not like I can spend all my afternoons cold approaching strangers.
6) of course I am putting in place what I need to find the right psychiatrist, also physical therapy to take care of my joints so I can train and stay fit (people consider me fit, but I won't until I can clearly see my own abs), sleep earlier, eat healthier etc. I read a lot of self development books from a varied spectrum of sources. This takes time.
IV) My questions:
While step III.6 is completing as fast as I can, I don't want to miss on yet another spring/summer to have the honest and sincere fun I always craved.
1) Have you been in my shoes of being too picky physically about women, with time ticking, and looking for great sex before any commitment? How did you overcome it? Are you happy now? Is it just that I have to reunite my 2 phases (great connection and long term) or nothing will work?
2) what places do you recommend to find the girls I'm looking for, especially ones that would be statistically more open to open relationships? I'm considering couple dancing classes (I actually love dancing itself), environmental "soft activism" groups, or simply roaming the streets, parks, museums with a like-minded friend.
3) Is there something seriously wrong with my current approach and state of mind, and if so, what, and most importantly, why exactly?
Essentially I'm looking for guidance on my next steps to be efficient about this and not lose more precious months/years.
Thank you!!

Give me some inspiration! I have a household of occult roommates. An alien, a mermaid, a spellcaster and a vampire. I’ve played with them a while but I am now looking to create some drama! Here are my sims:
Spellcaster - Jason Lowery
- Cheerful
- Outgoing
- Loyal
- (Formally Dance Machine)
- Quick Learner
- Likes Comedy and Violin
- Dislikes Fitness
- Level 10 in the comedy career +2 pay rises
Very nearly a Virtuoso Spellcaster
Spellcraft & Sorcery aspiration, level 4 just needs to Reach Spellcaster Rank 5 - Virtuoso to complete the whole aspiration
Adult, 136 days until age up
Best Friend - Lacy, flirty in the past but no more
Mermaid - Cole Marlow
- Child of the ocean
- Creative
- Loves the Outdoors
- Muser
- Fear of Unfulfilled Dreams
- Likes Fitness, Dancing, Video Gaming, Gardening and handiness
- Dislikes Electronica Music and Yellow
- Level 10 Actor, Medium pay gigs
- Very nearly a rising star, Vain quirk
Master Actor aspiration, level 4, just needs to place a Celebrity Tile in Starlight Boulevard to complete the aspiration
Young Adult, 72 days until age up
Grudge against Lacy due to argument for acting
Alien - Elliana Witt
- Vegetarian
- Dog Lover
- Cat Lover
- Animal Affection
- Fear of Unfulfilled Dreams
- Likes Cooking, Gardening, Alternative Music, Kids Radio Music, Easy Listening Music, Tween Pop Music
- Dislikes Yellow
Owns a Vet Clinic, level 7 veterinarian skill
Friend of the Animals aspiration, level 4, needs to complete all tasks
Young Adult, 75 days until ag up
Vampire - Lacy Sharpe
- Genius-
- Self-Absorbed
- Self-Assured
- Quick Learner
- Fear of Fire
- Likes Gardening, Guitar and Mischief
- Dislikes Retro Music and Yellow
- Level 8 Social Media career, 2, 783,082 followers
Only sleeps in coffin, can't eat human food, guilty if drink from humans, lives on plasma
Very nearly a grand master vampire
Master Vampire Aspiration, level 4, just needs Become a Grand Master Vampire to complete the whole aspiration
Number of Days Lived, 131
Fiancé - Prince Causey (Self absorbed, loves outdoors, foodie
Best Friend - Jason, flirty in the past but no more
Four pets:
Cat, adopted Fidget, Male adult, unneutered - Abyssinian, Playful, Curious, Fluffy
Cat, made in CAS Eris, Egyptian Mau, Female adult, Unspayed, Affectionate, Mischievous, Frisky
Dog, adopted Patches, Male adult, unneutered, Jack Russell Terrier, Loyal, Jumpy, Smart
Dog, adopted Waffle, Female puppy, unspayed, Saint Bernard, Troublemaker, Glutton, Vocal
I’m playing in Kriint's ‘Spacious Spellcaster Home’ from the gallery that I have refurbished and playing in Glimmerbrook.
Storylines! Cole has started an affair with Elliana, stemming from Cole flirting with Ellianna when researching the romantic trait for an acting gig. One thing led to another and they ended up in bed together after Cole won an acting award. They have exchanged winterfest and love day gifts but only have late night woohoo and the rest of the house are unaware of the relationship. I am imagining that Cole has made Ellianna keep the relationship secret because of his burgeoning acting career and Elianna is going along with it because she’s smitten.
Cole is desperately trying to be famous through his acting but when that wasn’t doing much for his fame he started making videos to boost his fame. He misses the ocean and has taken the household to Sulani for a vacation once so he could swim in the ocean again. He also massively got into fitness thinking that getting jacked up and muscley would help his career. He’s now not sure what he wants and constantly is getting angry from fear of unfulfilled dreams.
Ellianna and Lacy used to be at each other's throats but Lacy has grown out of the trait that makes everyone hate her and now they get on great. I don’t know how it happened but they both have a romance bar for each other, it’s empty but definitely there, so at some point there was some attraction between the two women. Ellianna also gets on great with Jason, but doesn't hang out much with him other than meals and holiday celebrations. Ellianna is an alien but was born on this planet, she doesn’t know her parents so doesn’t know much about being an alien therefore spends all of her time in her disguise but also feels like she will be rejected if she were to show her true form.
Ellianna absolutely adores animals and was working two jobs to fund her dream of owning a vet clinic but it was taking forever so the other three agreed to help Ellianna out with buying a vet clinic and some start-up funds because they were all earning more than Ellianna. Ellianna now has a little vet clinic in Gimmerbrook and has adopted four pets: two cats, two dogs. She bred the two cats together but gave the kitten away for adoption. This was painful for everyone so they will never be doing that again. Despite having her dream vet clinic she has started getting angry and sad because of a fear of unfulfilled dreams - I think spending time with Cole has rubbed off on her, though she is better at controlling her emotions than Cole.
Cole and Jason have bad sentiments towards each other and can’t be in the same room without getting tense and they get angry every time they try to talk. This happened after Cole was researching the angry trait for an acting gig. Jason seems to be unable to forgive Cole for the deception but Cole isn’t seeing Jason’s side of it either.
Cole also has a rocky relationship with Lacy, he flirted with her to research the romantic trait but it never went anywhere and they got into a fight when Cole was researching the angry trait for an acting gig. Their romantic bar is now half red, but they have managed to reconcile their friendship.
Jason and Lacy are best friends, they tried flirting once but it felt wrong, now they are the best of friends. Lacy has been a vampire for a very long time but only started trying to master being a vampire when she moved into the house with the others and she’s now very nearly a grand master vampire. However, living with non vampires she has been influenced to only eat plasma fruit and feels very guilty if she drinks from others without permission, but her roommates have given permission for her to drink from them when she’s been stuck for fruit. She took up the social media career so she could work at home away from the sun, though she’s working off a really old fashioned computer because that’s what she likes. She has amassed nearly 3 million followers but is somehow still not famous.
Lacy met her fiancé Prince on her very own doorstep. It’s been a whirlwind romance that has basically only been about woohooing in her coffin. She rang up Jason one day when she found a ring in Prince’s things, asking if she should say yes, Jason said she should decide and when he got home he found out Lacy and Prince were engaged! However Prince still doesn’t live with Lacy, though she has moved her coffin to the basement and bought a big bed for her room for Prince.
Both Prince and Lacy have the self absorbed trait. However I am thinking of taking away Lacy’s self absorbed trait because she has proven to be very caring towards the rest of the household - helping take care of the pets, cooking some meals even though she can’t eat human food and doing laundry at night etc.
Jason was the original owner of the house, is the oldest of the group (bar Lacy), but didn’t want to live alone so invited the other three to live with him (I haven’t worked out a backstory for how they all met). Jason in his youth was a dancing, joker boy. He wanted to get into magic to be more mischievous, which is why he gets on well with Lacy. He started a comedy career because being a spellcaster wasn’t paying the rent. He’s now at the top of his career. He also turned out to be a really good spellcaster and has learned nearly all the spells, is nearly at the top of the spellcaster levels, but only uses his cauldron for making mac ‘n’ cheese. Now nearing the top of both aspects of his life he’s also looking for a new direction.
As he headed into adulthood he stopped his dancing craze and became incredibly loyal to the people in his life. He had a crush on Grace Anansi but it never went anywhere, they are still friends but have barely seen each other recently. Jason has had no romantic relationship yet.
That’s it! Thoughts? Ideas? I like the idea of adding a baby to the household - but I don’t know who’s baby, and I would like a relationship to bust up but don’t know who. I have also thought about turning Lacy into a werewolf after I cure her vampirism but I’m not sure. I would love your ideas Reddit!
If you read this far on this verrry long post, thank you!!!