Task	Status	Details
Home	✅	cleaning schedule (18/30)
Anxiety work	✅	AM Meditation (49/60).
Productive Activity	✅	worked
Eating Plan	✅	Elimination diet (22/30) {no carbs, no coffee or soda, no low-carb sweet treats}
Exercise	✅	Exercise schedule (18/30) - short walk
Zac my Cat	✅	morning play session (1/12)
Personal Grooming	✅	planned actions (1/12)

.......... New 2-week trials
Been neglecting my cat's exercise needs, so gonna work on a daily play habit with him. Aiming to do this in the morning before I get busy with my day so I'm less likely to avoid doing it. I'm great at taking care of his food, water and litter box. And he gets all the hugs and cuddles he wants. I just struggle to make time to play with him.
Personal grooming - Basically as a loner agoraphobic, I tend to skip a lot of personal hygiene. So I want to at a minimum: * wash my face AM/PM, * wash my body daily (been doing this after exercise but not showering enough so want to shower at least twice a week), * teeth care (pretty good about brushing but want to start daily water flossing).

What’s the result when a bunch of teenagers make shit up for their creative writing exercises all meditate and have dreams about spirit animal guides, and post on a talking cat roleplay forum about it?
An evil polar bear that tries to kill you.
This is the third write-up I’ve made about Virtual Warrior World, a Proboards roleplay forum based on the Warrior Cats book series by Erin Hunter, which I’ve already covered in these two previous posts. Some forum members I mentioned in the first post also show up here, as you’ll see later. (You don’t have to read any of the other posts to get what’s going on here, but the first gives more in-depth context.)
Spirit Animals
A spirit animal, also known as a totem, is a sacred guide that can take the form of an animal and is seen as a protector. Spirit animals are important in many cultures, including certain Native American ones (such as the Ojibwe). They also tend to be appropriated by neopagans, New Age hippies, and white American teenagers.
Obligatory disclaimer time: I don’t know anything about spirit animals other than what’s written about them on Wikipedia. This writeup is NOT intended to mock anyone’s spiritual or religious beliefs, nor make a claim that such cultural beliefs around spirit animals are inherently “fake” or “imaginary”. It’s important to note that nobody in this club (as far as I know) was Native American or indigenous, nobody performed religious rites or even acknowledged such aspects, and several members years after the fact admitted that they had been making the whole thing up and never saw any spirit guides, animal or otherwise. This writeup is all in the spirit (no pun intended) of fun, and is not in any way supposed to be commentary on real religions or cultures.
Now that’s out of the way, let’s talk about the club itself.
The Spirit Animal Club
On VWW, there was a section dedicated to clubs that members could make about their interests. The site admin, Jai, made a fair few clubs of her own and created sub-boards for them (one of them was a fan club for The Lonely Island, whom you might know as the masterminds behind such iconic hits as “Jizz in My Pants” and “I’m On a Boat”); if your club got popular enough, she would make a board for it too. So there were clubs dedicated to the usual subjects: debate, writing, gaming, anime, the LGBTQ+ community, etc.
One particularly notable club was the spirit animal club, which a (white) member named Abby (whose character was Skyflight) came up with and Jai made a board for. The club’s actual name was “Animal Spirit Guides Club”, but because that was too clunky, everybody just called it the spirit animal club.
The club was about who could write the most creative story about yourself and your favorite animal finding your spirit animal and connecting with other members who were communing with theirs. You didn’t have to have your own spirit guide to join; anybody could sign up, but the point of joining was that you would somehow find it eventually.
Abby’s spirit animal was a hawk named Farrow; Jai’s was an eagle named Baldwin. Most spirit animals were “cool” or “pretty” animals in that vein, such as tigers, cheetahs, foxes, bears, panthers, deer, horses, robins, swans, ravens, and wolves (that last one was particularly common, for some reason…). Rare were the outliers: one had a boa constrictor as their spirit guide. Another had a clownfish. And absolutely no one had, say, a slug or a mole rat as their spirit animal.
The club was divisive: it was pretty popular at its peak (around fifty-nine members!), but it had its naysayers who wanted to get rid of it. The most vocal of them was Mike (the resident gay admin who hated his job for a myriad of reasons), who knew thought the whole thing was a creative writing exercise and (by his own admission) also sort of, kind of wanted it gone out of spite. He might have succeeded if it had been smaller or less popular, but because Jai herself was a member, it stayed.
Other than that, everything was smooth sailing. Discussions centered on how to meditate to find your spirit animal, what your spirit animal was like, what your spirit animal told you today, what your spirit animal ate for breakfast…okay, not that last one, but you get the idea.
One memorable thread discussed past lives: Steph (the staffer who later helped with the hack of VWW) claimed she had been a Native American girl in a Seneca tribe who drowned in a river when she was around twelve to fourteen. Another member named Jenny said she had once lived in ancient Greece and died when she fell from a cliff. Abby had a whole saga about how in her past life, she had been an ancient Egyptian princess who was murdered by her stepmother for challenging her authority, and she had an evil older brother and an older sister (no word on whether or not the sister was evil too), and her father was the Pharaoh for a short time (which somehow explained Abby’s bad relationship with her own dad), and her mother had been one of the Pharaoh’s concubines, so her stepmother was hateful because she couldn’t have children of her own, and…
You get the idea. The thread capped off with one more member claiming her past life had been as a First Nations girl who loved salmon and ran away from home in winter when she was twelve, then froze to death, and concluding that was why she hated wearing scarves or hats in winter.
Notice that all these past lives ended in dramatic deaths at a young age, and nobody had died from old age or illness. That was the spirit animal club for you.
But alas, such peace could not last long. That leads us to the:
One, Two, Jason's Coming for You
Remember the outlier with the clown fish for a spirit guide? Her name was Jessica (she was also a staff member; her character was Sparrowfeather), her clownfish was named Chloe, and one day in October 2010, she (not the clownfish) made a post that would change everything for the club.
In this post, she detailed how she had fallen asleep and dreamed that she was looking for Chloe. When she went to a pond, a polar bear showed up and she assumed he was a spirit guide too. She asked who he was, and he introduced himself as Jason before attacking her. Fortunately, a leopard named Amber showed up in the nick of time to protect her; unfortunately, she woke up with sore and red arms that left her scratching them. Totally befuddled by the whole thing that definitely happened, she asked what it meant.
The first reply was from a member named Jordan, who oh so helpfully told her that Jason was probably a “shadow guide” (without explaining what that meant) and that she probably deserved to nearly be killed because she must’ve done something bad to warrant it! Classy. The other replies were about the same level of usefulness, with nobody understanding where this Jason weirdo had come from.
Later, Jessica posted again in her thread that Amber told her Jason was not her spirit animal, and that her clownfish guide, Chloe, had once been contacted by the kid Jason was supposed to guide. The kid died, Jason blamed Chloe for it, and the fish went into hiding. How exactly a clownfish from the astral plane was able to cause the death of a child went unexplained.
Abby’s helpful advice was that Jessica should research leopards and polar bears, and eventually confront Jason to get rid of him. She cited the fact that she and Jai had both apparently had a problem with an “evil guide” in the past and dealt with it by confronting it, but unfortunately didn’t elaborate on how that happened.
There was some radio silence for a bit, then Jessica posted again. Her next thread was about how she had a dream of walking up a creek and encountering a panther that could shapeshift. Conveniently, she somehow realized that it was Jason, and then it turned into a polar bear and attacked her. When she called out to her spirit guide for help, Amber helpfully told her that she’d been told not to “interfere with destiny” and sent her good wishes, spouted off some poorly Google Translated random Italian, and disappeared, leaving Jessica on her own to wake up just as Jason tried to kill her again. Couldn’t ask for a better spirit guide.
Jessica naturally asked her friends what this meant; Abby posited that the Italian that Amber had spoken was her giving Jessica her magic energy (as it literally translates to “Security for the baby. Sure it will. Out of harm's way, oh, can win the battle. I am sending my will, my strength and power. Let child.”). When Jessica asked if Jason was an evil spirit (as anyone would do after nearly being murdered in their sleep by an evil polar bear), Abby said definitively that Jason was a lost spirit animal without a human.
All was quiet for about two months, but like any good slasher movie villain, Jason made his return (making his name even more appropriate—funny, that). His next victim was fittingly Jordan. Jordan had (allegedly) had a problem of his own with his spirit animals three months ago: he’d had two spirit guides, a wolf named Nightshade and a snake named Ankh, and they left him because they were “messengers” to herald his real spirit animal, a snowy owl named Aurora. That would’ve been well and good until, horror of horrors, he dreamed that Nightshade was attacked!
He found Nightshade bleeding violet blood, which we all know talking wolves have, because Jason mauled him. Aurora, ever the helpful type, told Jordan that they could protect him from Jason for a while, but like any good heroic anime protagonist, he’d have to face Jason eventually. Apparently, Jason was a demon who fed on fear and negativity, and the only way to ward him off was to show no emotion around him. The unmentioned alternative solution would probably have been to turn your back when he tries to attack you so that he’ll evaporate…wait, wrong slasher villain. Never mind.
Anyway, Jordan’s post did not get the attention he so desperately craved; he only got one response from another member named Zach, who told him to meditate and then wished he had his own spirit animal so he could ask them about Jason. Jordan’s reply was to give the sage advice to everyone in the club to get away from any sign of Jason in the “physical world”, which apparently includes movie posters and stuffed animals, because he’s totally an Empath™ and can tell that, shockingly, the polar bear that keeps trying to attack people feels “anger, bloodlust, and death-urges”! Who’d-a thunk it?
The next day, a girl named Carolyn posted about how her two spirit animals had disappeared. When she encountered a polar bear, she asked him if he’d seen one of them, he introduced himself as Jason, and attacked her until a hawk showed up and scared him off. The only advice she got was to meditate more, and Jordan helpfully told her that Jason was dangerous and had raging bloodlust (just in case she might have gotten confused and thought Jason was going around to give hugs).
The thread petered out after she claimed that the hawk told her that her previous spirit animals had left her forever, presumably to avoid dealing with any pesky bears. Ah, spirit animals. Gotta love ‘em.
Literally one day later, a club member named Emily piped up with a Jason story of her own. She claimed that not only did she believe her spirit animal, a white tiger named Leila, had been with her since she was a kid, she also believed Jason had been trying to target her back then. Apparently, she asked her mother about her childhood and whether or not polar bears had been involved, and her mother definitely told her that Emily had once woken up, screaming, “He’s gonna get me, the polar bear!”
So from this totally legit information, Emily drew the logical conclusion that Jason was going to try to kill her, and she could destroy him, and like any good chosen one protagonist, only she could do it. Somehow.
Her fellow club members—including Zach and Jordan—were not so accepting of her radical ideas, and told her she was being paranoid and to get some sleep (because, you know, that’s totally what you should do when you think an evil polar bear’s trying to kill you in your dreams).
Jordan added the crucial information that demons didn’t focus on solely one target and sought to create as much chaos as possible, because I guess he somehow became the expert on demons in addition to being an Empath™. He also claimed that Jason was actually rather cute if you got past him trying to murder everyone, because we all know attempting to murder children is a very minor character flaw that can be easily overlooked.
Emily’s response? She claimed she somehow fell asleep immediately after posting, was attacked by Jason in her dream, and screamed for Leila, who didn’t show up. How convenient! The only advice she got after that was to talk to Abby or Jai about it, since they were the club admins.
Three, Four, Better Lock Your Door
Not even a week passed before a fourth member, Jody, posted that she'd seen Jason too. She had been trying to contact her own spirit guide, a swan named Dooslan, when Jason showed up. She asked him what his name was, he told her his name like any true gentleman would, and then started attacking her until a deer and a cardinal showed up and told him "Swiper, no swiping" to stop. Then she woke up.
This sent the other members into a tizzy, and Zach suggested that Jason, like any classic anime villain, was planning something. Steph claimed that her spirit animal told her that saying Jason's name was what made him appear.
Another member claimed that she got blurry visions of Jason even though she hadn’t even tried to contact her spirit animal.
Four days later, a member named Lilly posted about how she’d been talking to her spirit animal, a wolf named Lacriasca, until the wolf suddenly vanished (adding another example to the pattern of spirit animals being useless thus far) and she woke up back in the real world. Then, while still in said real world, she saw Jason in front of her! And what was her reaction to being faced with this notorious terrorizer of teens she knew on the internet?
Hug him, of course.
Naturally, this ended with her arm being broken—but not from Jason, actually! She told another member that she’d been meditating outside, then conveniently got hit by a basketball right before Jason showed up. And she had somehow been able to hug this angry astral plane polar bear with an arm that got broken moments earlier by a basketball. Or the basketball breaking her arm was caused by Jason’s arrival, I’m not sure. It’s not really clear. Maybe Jason was also a basketball player in addition to being a killer polar bear?
Jenny made a thread to document the pattern of everyone who got attacked by Jason. Jessica herself commented and was shocked, shocked, that Jason had obtained more victims! No one had any solutions to this problem, except for Abby and, surprisingly, resident spirit animal doubter Mike. Sort of.
Five, Six, Grab Your…Wait, That’s It?
Several days later, Mike posted a simple challenge on the board for a member to explain what exactly their “spirit animal” business was all about. Abby reacted to this very calmly and gracefully, as you can see here, and told everyone else in the club not to respond to him. After some back-and-forth between them, Abby linked to an expert on spirit animals to show where she’d gotten her interest in them. Personally, I have no idea who this guy is or how much of a verified expert he is on spirit guides, but the font he uses for everything on his site is Papyrus. Make of that what you will.
Although Abby wasn’t a fan of Mike’s little stunt, she did agree with one point he’d brought up—namely, that spirituality was largely based on your subconscious and what you manifested of it through dreams, meditation, or the like. She made a thread to lay down the law about Jason: it was best to no longer give him attention because it would make the issue worse, and the only person she believed about the Jason attacks was Jessica—everyone else was overreacting, because she (somehow) knew for a fact that the spirit world had guards to keep beings like him out. From now on, anyone who wanted to talk about Jason could only do it in a PM to her. No more posting about the evil polar bear.
Not a lot of people responded, but Jenny pointed out the oddity of the fact that Jason had first been classified as a spirit animal without a human and was now considered a demon. Abby’s response was that the whole Jason thing was just a product of an “overactive imagination” (insert obligatory snark about self-awareness here), because spirit animals couldn’t actually hurt people physically at all, let alone cause a broken arm. According to her, Jason couldn’t be a demon because demons work for the devil and no one on the site was a Satan worshiper (as far as we know), and somehow she knew all of this because she’d been attacked by spirit animals before and only got hurt mentally. Unfortunately, she didn’t elaborate on this claim (again).
The only member to respond to Abby after that was Jordan, who suggested that Jason was a figment of a collective imagination and that everyone should stop obsessing over Jason and move on. Sound advice, which Abby agreed with, and that was the end of the thread. All’s well that ends well, right? Well…
Seven, Eight, He’s a Poor Little Cinnamon Roll Now, Actually!
Jordan proceeded to take a massive dump on his own logic and made a thread later that same month, with the oh so civil title of “You People Are Idiots”. He posted about how he’d been meditating in his basement until Jason showed up, touched his nose to Jordan’s chest, somehow caused Jordan to hallucinate about his loved ones, and turned into a little cub.
Then Jordan was transported to his “spirit world”, where he met with Nightshade, Ankh, Aurora, and his fourth newly found spirit guide, a black panther named Masen, because he apparently was somehow soooo special that he got not one, not two, not three, but FOUR spirit animals. The whole gang was shocked that Jason was now a cute cub, and Jordan heard a voice telling him that this would all make sense later. (Spoiler alert: it did not.)
He concluded the post by saying Jason followed him around everywhere now, and threatened to rip anyone who called Jason evil to pieces because he was soooo totally "badass", being an alleged Empath™ with five spirit animals now and all.
The reception to his self-aggrandizing little display was lukewarm, to say the least. Jenny expressed skepticism that Jason was able to attach himself to Jordan, abiding by Jessica's story that Jason was another kid’s intended spirit guide who went rogue and Abby's claim that the “attacks” on the other members were just their imagination. Abby had no response other than to wish him luck with Jason, stating that demons could shapeshift and deceive.
Jordan’s reply was that it did happen, and that he’s totally an Empath™, and Jason’s totally a good guy now, girls, really, he’s a cute little de-aged cub now and everything! He went on to say that his wolf, Nightshade, was wary and always beside him whenever Jason was around (considering that Jason, you know, mauled him and all), and he was ignoring Nightshade now because the wolf (very logically) thought he was going to do something stupid. Truly a guy worthy of having four spirit animals.
Abby and Jenny didn’t take kindly to this and told him to listen to his spirit animal, Jordan conceded the point, and that was that.
Nine, Ten, We Can All Sleep Again
The next month, Jordan posted about how he thought he was being demonically possessed because he kept waking up to bleeding cuts on his arm. He claimed that this demon possessed him to go into the restroom during class and cut the name “Drew” into his arm with a paperclip, and he somehow knew that was the spirit’s name. Oh, and he was sure his friend was being possessed too because, uh…her pupils were big and “gear-shaped” (I assume this was a typo), and she was laughing a lot and being clingy. Because those count as signs of demonic possession now.
Zach advised him to meditate, but Jordan whined he couldn’t do that because all his spirit animals except for Jason were (understandably) ignoring him. The only one talking to him was Jason, who had no advice because he was currently infantilized. No one else had much valuable advice, and Emily (remember her?) told him on her other account to get holy water or an exorcism. Jordan rejected both options because of his hatred for priests and shared that the demon’s full name was Drusilla (because I guess she took the time to introduce herself in between the self-mutilations).
Conveniently, he refused to post any photos of his arm’s cut because it was too “gross” (sure, Jan). When advised to burn sage instead, he claimed he’d already tried that and helpfully filled in that his spirit animals had previously been shunning him because of Jason, so he cut ties with the cub, and now his guides were fighting the demons for him. So much for ripping anyone who insulted Jason to pieces.
Emily told him he had to say holy words while burning the sage to make it work, and that he shouldn’t get a “Luigi board” (I presume she meant “ouija board”) because that’d make it worse. Jordan responded that the demons were now conveniently gone and he’d put “protection charms” around his home and his friends (which I guess absolved his friend of her possession too), so it was all resolved now. Yay?
Jason basically faded into irrelevance after that, and only got a mention in two more threads. Carolyn posted again, this time about how she definitely saw a shadowy figure manifest in front of her, and when Zach suggested that it might be Jason in search of a new home, Jordan barged in to “correct” him that Jason wasn’t a demon (which had nothing to do what Zach had said). Jenny chided Jordan in turn for talking about Jason and reiterated definitively that Jason had been another kid’s spirit animal who solely messed with Jessica, and all other sightings of him had been imaginative. After some spamming from another kid, Abby resolved the matter by stating the shadow figure was not a demon, but a shadow guide (and yet again failed to explain what that was).
The other thread was from a member named Morgan who talked about how, while daydreaming in math class, she had found her spirit animal sitting on the back of a polar bear. When Zach suggested that it was Jason, Abby cut in to reinforce the decree that Jason wasn’t real and had been a figment of everyone’s imagination. Zach reminded her of what Jordan and Jessica had said about him; Jordan screeched once again that his precious little baby Jason (whom he abandoned) wasn’t a demon and was somehow not a spirit, conceded grudgingly that some of Jason’s attacks had been imaginary (presumably not including his own experiences), and whined that people were stupid. Oh, and Morgan said her polar bear’s name was Cascade, but by that point nobody cared.
So, what can be learned from this episode? Not a lot, other than maybe the fact that an evil polar bear can do a lot to grip a bunch of teenagers’ imaginations. Sadly, that was the only exciting thing to ever happen in the spirit animal club, so there’s not much else to write about after that. There are some chat logs discussing the incident years later, though (“Roy” is another name Jordan went by and, to my knowledge, is not his real name).
And on a final note: from what I’ve heard, Abby still believes in spirit animals to this day. Do whatever you want with that information.

Throw away because my roomie found my reddit. Anyway my roommate and I have been friends for about 5 years now, we go to a university in a small town and we got on really well. I have had to have a few conversations with her regarding her contributing both cleaning and financially. She likes to be told to do things which made me feel awkward, we talked through it and are fine, her girlfriend even agreed with me lmfao.
So here is the issue, I am the main contributor for our place. When we first moved in they brought a lot of things from home (we love to save money) and bought a few new things, I bought all new (my choice 100%). We both had the mindset and conversation we will buy the cheap stuff for now and improve when we can. We have been here for 2 years and she still hasn't bought anything since we moved in. Of course we have what we need for the most part but when it comes to decor, appliances, sprucing up the place it falls on me. Now I need to mention I make more (i work 4 jobs), I spend more and it's at my own free will, there is no obligation to buy a new set of pillows or anything like that.
I think where my frustration lies is all the appliances are mine kettle, blender, toaster, coffee maker, water filter, mixer etc... All the cooking tools are mine. Basically everything in the apartment besides some furniture belongs to me. She doesn't really take care of them that well either, I've tried to talk to her about it, it never really gets resolved.
It's hard she says she's going through a hard time financially but she only works maybe 10 hours of the week and it's been close to 3 years of this with no attempt to work more hours, she will buy 500-600$ worth of things for herself like clothes and makeup. AITA for wanting her to buy something for the place every now and again? I'm not expecting much just something would be nice, I feel like it's just my apartment.
I want new pans they are not 100% needed but ours are the cheapest out there and are falling apart, we need new ones. Please call me out if I am the AH for wanting her to buy them?
Edit: Our parents are great friends so there is that awkward piece as well :/

I also now have Mr. Mime done and ready to go. He just is not one of my favorites.
Up to Brock: Moveset: Confusion, Barrier Insane breezing through the game, and I gave Gary Squirtle this time. Not sure it was the smartest move for having the greatest challenge a Mr. Mime could have, but there we go. He went through this part of the game so quickly. Confusion swept through everything. Even Brock. I didn't even bother with Gary 1A this time.
Up to Misty: Moveset: Confusion, Barrier, Mega Punch, Light Screen I got a Spearow on the way through Mt. Moon. Nothing in it gave me any trouble, though I did pick up Mega Punch. While Mega Punch in most runs helped me at least get through this part, Mr. Mime could not hit a Mega Punch to save his life. Almost every time I selected it, it failed, so I was usually spamming Confusion. Mega Punch still hit Gary 2's Abra to kill it off. Confusion took me through the whole of Nugget Bridge. I also got the S.S. Ticket. After all of that, I headed to Misty. After an attempt, I learned Light Screen during the fight. The problem with fighting Starmie was the water damage, and even its Tackle could still kind of hurt. Once I learned Light Screen, I activated it and alternated between both Mega Punch and Confusion, they both did similar damage. Eventually, Starmie fell.
Up to Surge: Moveset: Confusion, Barrier, Body Slam, Light Screen After I headed to the S.S. Anne, I went and picked up Body Slam. Bye bye Mega Miss... anyway... I managed to beat Gary 3 quite easily as well. Confusion hit Pidgeotto and Raticate out of the fight. Body Slam was still enough to annihilate Kadabra, and Wartortle backed off due to Confusion. I got Cut, and traded Spearow for Dux. I took it, Cut through the tree, and then got to Surge himself. All I did was set up Light Screen and spam Confusion through the fight. Mr. Mime is just good, okay? I admit to it.
Up to Erika: Moveset: Psychic, Barrier, Body Slam, Thunderbolt Yeah, Mr. Mime is great because it can learn Thunderbolt, giving it a tiny advantage over Alakazam. Anyway, I went to Rock Tunnel, not even having any trouble, and went to Gary 4, where Thunderbolt annhiliated most of his team, and I Body Slammed his Exeggcute a few times to get rid of it. It also killed Kadabra again. When I got to Celadon, I bought drinks to get Psychic immediately. Once I did, I swept Erika away with Psychic alone.
Up to Koga: Moveset: Psychic, Meditate, Body Slam, Thunderbolt I arguably made the worst mistake in this run possible at this point. Getting rid of Barrier for Meditate. In practice, Mr. Mime actually appreciates improved Defense over a buffed Attack. I just anticipated needing Meditate to kill Exeggutor by endgame far easier. Not the case. It was fine, however, for now. Giovanni 1 just went out to repeated Psychics. Nothing in Pokemon Tower really gave me a problem either, and while Mr. Mime isn't as strong as Alakazam in the Psychic department, it didn't have any concern with the Snorlax, either. I learned Meditate in the middle of the Koga fight much like I learned Light Screen earlier. I was buffed on my Defense in case Weezing decided to go boom, but it did not. It didn't even try to Sludge me, and I know Mr. Mime is Fairy type later on, but it sure isn't a factor now.
Up to Sabrina: Moveset: Same Rival Fival gave me some trouble, killing me a few times. Mostly because I got smacked hard by Growlithe's Take Down ironically enough. It finally became a remote concern. Damn. Give this doggo a clap, everyone. Once I went from Level 40 to Level 43, though, I took him out despite the Take Down problem. Giovanni 2 should be pretty obviously easy by now, and Sabrina wasn't too bad. I was just gonna buff myself to deal with Alakazam at first, but a crit Psychic shook my sails a bit. I Body Slamemd through both her Kadabra and Mr. Mime, and despite a Special drop, I took down her Venomoth with Psychic. Alakazam died to Body Slam, too, despite Recover saving her once or twice.
Up to Blaine: Moveset: Sacre bleu! No concern here, at all. Psychic spam was enough to win.
Up to Giovanni 3: Moveset: Croissant? Even more Psychic, straight up. Even his other Ground types besides the Nidos die to it fairly quickly.
Gary 6: Moveset: Le... pew? That's not even Francois!! Don't know a lot of French. Either way, needed to use Rare Candies. I did set up Meditates on Pidgeot, at least somewhat, before zapping the bird out. Rhyhorn took a Psychic, as did Growlithe. Exeggcute died to Body Slam, and even Alakazam died due to the slams. Blastoise took the zapdown.
Elite Four: Moveset: Psychic, Reflect, Body Slam, Thunderbolt My first attempts didn't have me using Reflect, but as I can't relearn Barrier to make up for my failure, I had to do something else. Once I went with this, I made it to the end with very little other troubles.
Lorelei: With Meditate, I could buff myself up enough to take Lapras out in one shot. Otherwise, I had to hope Blizzard didn't freeze me. Thunderbolt works on everything else, and Body Slam can kill Jynx pretty much every time. One thing I could have done is maybe save Meditate just for near the end, and keep it until then if I really wanted to use Meditate, I think...
Bruno: Come on. What do you think happened?
Agatha: Psychic was enough.
Lance: This was when I needed to use Reflect. If I tried Meditate, my defense was not buffed up enough to take it. If Lance is good at beating ANYTHING, it's Pokemon with terrible Defense. Hyper Beam is a big oof. But Gyarados is never a problem because Thunderbolt, a doyeee... Once I learned Reflect, though, I took everything far better. While my power was a bit lower overall, Psychic managed the Dragonairs and Dragonite well enough. And Aerodactyl was shocked out of the fucking sky.
Champion Gary: Set up Reflect immediately just to not deal with big physical damage. Thunderbolt zapped Pidgeot away. Alakazam was still easy enough with Body Slam. Rhydon died to Psychic. Exeggutor took a little bit of effort. Body Slam wasn't doing enough, so I began spamming Psychic. It finally died after a Special drop. Arcanine died to Psychic, and while one Thunderbolt didn't kill Blastoise off, Blizzard didn't freeze me, so I hit with another one and won.
I won at Level 70 and at 3:47.
Rankings: 1. Gengar: 62, 3:21, 4 resets. (Thunderbolt, Mega Drain, Psychic, Body Slam) 2. Kangaskhan: 62, 3:24, 1 reset. (Body Slam, Blizzard, Earthquake, Rock Slide 3. Victreebel: 62, 3:30, 2 resets. (Razor Leaf, Swords Dance, Body Slam, Sleep Powder) 4. Blastoise: 63, 3:32, 8 resets. (Blizzard, Withdraw, Surf, Earthquake) 5. Nidoking: 67, 3:43, 8 resets. (Body Slam, Blizzard, Earthquake, Thunderbolt) 6. Venusaur: 62, 3:47, 7 resets. (Body Slam, Swords Dance, Sleep Powder, Razor Leaf) 7. Mr. Mime: 70, 3:47, 7 resets. (Psychic, Meditate/Reflect, Body Slam, Thunderbolt) 8. Primeape: 63, 3:52, 5 resets. (Dig, Thunderbolt, Karate Chop, Rock Slide) 9. Poliwrath: 63, 3:56, 12 resets. (Blizzard, Earthquake, Amnesia, Surf) 10. Lickitung: 63, 3:57, 3 resets. (Swords Dance, Body Slam, Earthquake, Blizzard) 11. Charizard: 66, 3:59, 10 resets. (Earthquake, Body Slam, Flamethrower, Swords Dance) 12. Hitmonlee: 69, 3:59, 13 resets. (Hi Jump Kick, Meditate, Seismic Toss, Body Slam/Mimic/Mega Kick) 13. Slowbro: 64, 4:00, 12 resets. (Psychic, Blizzard, Surf, Amnesia) 14. Machamp: 67, 4:05, 8 resets. (Rock Slide, Body Slam, Submission, Earthquake) 15. Kingler: 64, 4:14, 13 resets. (Surf, Blizzard, Swords Dance, Body Slam) 16. Raticate: 68, 4:17, 13 resets (Blizzard, Dig, Body Slam, Thunderbolt) 17. Seadra: 67, 4:26. 16 resets. (Surf, Blizzard, Double-Edge, Agility) 18. Tentacruel: 60, 4:28, 10 resets (Blizzard, Barrier, Mega Drain, Surf) 19. Ninetales: 67, 4:28, 11 resets (Flamethrower, Body Slam, Mimic, Dig) 20. Nidoqueen: 67, 4:29, 11 resets. (Earthquake, Blizzard, Body Slam, Thunderbolt) 21. Farfetch'd: 70, 4:33, 10 resets. (Fly, Slash, Swords Dance, Body Slam) 22. Hypno: 62, 4:38, 8 resets. (Meditate, Hypnosis, Body Slam, Psychic) 23. Clefable, 67, 4:39, 4 resets. (Body Slam, Psychic/Blizzard, Minimize, Thunderbolt) 24. Wigglytuff, 66, 4:41, 6 resets. (Thunderbolt, Body Slam, Psychic/Blizzard, Defense Curl) 25. Dewgong: 64, 4:44, 5 resets. (Blizzard, Mimic, Surf, Body Slam) 26. Golem: 68: 4:49, 8 resets. (Earthquake, Defense Curl, Rock Slide, Body Slam) 27. Chansey: 68, 4:51, 2 resets. (Minimize, Psychic/Softboiled, Thunderbolt, Blizzard) 28. Butterfree: 66, 4:53, 28 resets. (Mimic, Sleep Powder, Psychic, Mega Drain) 29. Persian: 70, 4:58, 13 resets. (Mimic, Bubblebeam, Thunderbolt, Body Slam) 30. Sandslash: 67, 5:00, 11 resets. (Body Slam, Rock Slide, Swords Dance, Earthquake) 31. Vileplume: 67, 5:04, 15 resets. (Mega Drain, Body Slam/Mimic, Swords Dance, Sleep Powder) 32. Marowak: 73, 5:10, 9 resets. (Blizzard, Earthquake, Mimic, Body Slam) 33. Alakazam: 63, 5:18, 4 resets. (Toxic, Psychic, Recover, Seismic Toss) 34. Seaking: 64, 5:20, 8 resets. (Agility, Double-Edge, Blizzard, Surf) 35. Tangela: 66, 5:24, 16 resets. (Sleep Powder, Growth, Body Slam/Mimic, Mega Drain) 36. Rapidash: 72. 5:24, 10 resets. (Fire Blast, Body Slam, Mimic, Agility) 37. Arbok: 71, 5:28, 27 resets. (Mimic, Earthquake, Body Slam, Rock Slide) 38. Raichu: 63, 5:29, 5 resets. (Thunderbolt, Mimic, Agility, Seismic Toss) 39. Golduck: 64, 5:34, 6 resets. (Dig, Blizzard, Mimic, Surf) 40. Starmie: 61, 5:42, 16 resets. (Thunderbolt, Blizzard, Surf, Psychic) 41. Muk: 66, 5:42, 11 resets. (Mega Drain/Fire Blast, Thunderbolt, Minimize, Sludge) 42. Hitmonchan: 73. 5:44, 12 resets. (Submission/Mimic/Submission, Agility, Ice Punch/Seismic Toss, Body Slam) 43. Dodrio: 72, 5:49, 17 resets. (Drill Peck, Mimic, Agility, Body Slam) 44. Fearow: 73, 6:00, 30 resets. (Drill Peck, Mimic, Agility, Swift) 45. Venomoth: 65, 6:24, 15 resets. (Mimic, Psychic, Sleep Powder, Mega Drain) 46. Golbat: 74, 6:26, 12 resets. (Double-Edge, Wing Attack, Mega Drain, Mimic) 47. Electrode: 70, 6:29, 25 resets. (Thunderbolt, Mimic, Swift, Toxic/Reflect) 48. Parasect, 71, 6:32, 18 resets. (Body Slam, Spore, Swords Dance, Dig) 49. Cloyster, 62, 6:55, 17 resets. (Blizzard, Withdraw, Surf, Tri Attack) 50. Beedrill: 65, 6:55, 23 resets. (Swords Dance, Mega Drain, Double-Edge, Twineedle) 51. Magneton: 64. 6:58, 10 resets. (Rest, Double-Edge, Thunderbolt, Mimic) 52. Onix: 80, 7:11, 25 resets. (Earthquake, Harden, Body Slam, Rock Slide) 53. Pidgeot: 76, 7:16, 13 resets. (Mimic, Agility, Double-Edge, Fly) 54. Arcanine: 72, 7:17. 14 resets. (Body Slam, Dig, Fire Blast, Agility) 55. Weezing: 72, 7:31, 12 resets. (Mimic, Sludge, Thunderbolt, Fire Blast) 56. Rhydon: 73, 7:33, 16 resets. (Thunderbolt, Earthquake, Mimic, Rock Slide) 57. Dugtrio: 78, 7:47, 33 resets. (Slash, Mimic, Earthquake, Rock Slide) 58. Exeggutor: 71, 9:16, 25 resets. (Mimic, Psychic, Mega Drain, Sleep Powder)
Bro... Mr. Mime low-key impressed me, not gonna lie: S: Gengar, Kangaskhan, Victreebel, Blastoise, Nidoking, Venusaur, Mr. Mime, Primeape, Poliwrath, Lickitung, Charizard, Hitmonlee A: Slowbro, Machamp, Kingler, Raticate, Seadra, Tentacruel, Ninetales, Nidoqueen, Farfetch'd, Hypno, Clefable, Wigglytuff, Dewgong, Golem, Chansey, Butterfree, Persian B: Sandslash, Vileplume, Marowak, Alakazam, Seaking, Tangela, Rapidash, Arbok, Raichu, Golduck, Starmie, Muk, Hitmonchan, Dodrio C: Fearow, Venomoth, Golbat, Electrode, Parasect, Cloyster, Beedrill, Magneton D: Onix, Pidgeot, Arcanine, Weezing, Rhydon, Dugtrio E: N/A F: Exeggutor
Alright... next up is Scyther. Take your bets on where he'll be!

The Policy Makers over at Railbird could be described as “stupid”, or “bad researchers” after reading the policy page of the website. The amount of vagueness and truly just silly rules is wild (only one 3.4 Oz of sunscreen?!) but the real kicker is the factory sealed water bottles.
It’s very kind (?) of Railbird organizers to let us measly attendants bring in one factory sealed bottle of water up to 32 ounces BUT these do not exist! I went to the store today to find a bottle that fits these requirements and every single large bottle of water at the store is one liter or 33.8 ounces. WHO MADE THESE DUMB DECISIONS?!
Don’t get me started on the contradictory bag policy.

Bonus chapter celebration continues. Part 3 at the same time tomorrow.
Previous Chapter - Read 10 weeks ahead on Patreon - Read the story so far on Royal Road
*
Chapter Twelve - The Blacksmith's Boy (Part Two)
‘Grrrn.’
Cal stumbled in the stones, sliding a few paces down the slope. The rocks bit at his boots, and he began to topple forward, but his shoulder thumped into a tree trunk, jarring him to a stop. He hugged it to his chest, panting hard, and stood there for a few moments, surrounded by the silence of the forest. His brow ached from frowning, and his eyes stung with salty tears. But he never slipped. Not ever.
He pulled himself upright on the trunk, shivering. It was cold without his cloak, he noticed now. Cold with winter. There was an ominous dark to the evening sky, clouded with thick banks of shadow, and a distant rumble hummed against the mountainside. A storm was coming, and it would be dark before he made it back to the forge. He cursed under his breath, and set off again through the trees, feet skipping over the stones. The Blacksmith would be…
Hang the Blacksmith. He had stopped him from going to the Old Man. Stopped him from warning him. The cave was still smoking. There had been time. He could have stopped it. Instead, the cave was empty, full of ash, and the Old Man was in the ground. What was left of him. His half-riddled words. His ancient stories. His knowing. Of that, there was nothing. Whispers in the wind. Perhaps it had been nothing, all along.
Cal exhaled. His word was hard as stone, now. The ache of waiting was gone. Only the word was left.
He gritted his teeth, shaking his head. The Blacksmith was only protecting him. What could he have done, that a Greycloak couldn’t? The man was old, but he knew these hills almost better than Cal did. There wouldn’t have been anything he could have done. He’d have burned with him.
Thunder cracked, closer this time, and Cal was scowling. He could have warned him. Before. There had been time. He could have fled. The clouds overhead had taken on a faint purplish hue, drinking the last light of the day. The darkness was deepening, and he was still far from home. But the anger was hot in his chest, and his tears were spent.
Asking after that Greycloak fellow.
The Blacksmith had stopped him, but he didn’t light the fire. He had not killed him. The Innkeep’s words echoed in his ears, vibrating like a distant bell. Strangers had come asking. Strangers from the lowlands. And the cave had burned.
His breath was thick and hot in his breast. Cold air raw against his spent throat. The salt of his tears cracked on his cheeks, and his empty belly was a lead ball in his gut. The narrow pines rushed past him like blades, blurring into a patchwork of slashed shadows, and his feet beat against the silence, crunching in the shale and loam. There’d be time for thinking, later. Time for figuring out what to do next. Once he was warm beside a fire, and the storm was spent.
He blinked. He squinted into the gathering dark. Something was moving. Moving in the shifting trees. Off across the slope to the north. Nothing much, mind, but any moving up this far from the village was unusual. The hunters said that wolves roamed this high in the hills, sometimes. The hungry kind, the kind that find no food on the lower slopes, that come wild-eyed and desperate to the rock and shale. Not that Cal had ever seen one, but he slowed his pace all the same, suddenly very aware of the sound of his footsteps. His breath. He stared off along the slope, tracing the swaying trees. Nothing else stirred. Nothing but him. His mind was playing tricks. He took another step…
… and stopped dead again. There it was. Away to his right. North. He couldn’tt have imagined it, this time. Something darker than the trees. He turned slowly, blinking at the creeping gloom. The silence clawed at his ears, and his breath rattled in his raw lungs. Nothing but the rumble of the clouds. Nothing but…
Footsteps. And not his own. There were shadows moving through the trees, coming closer. Shadows in black. His breath caught in his throat, and a shiver ran up his spine. One. Two. He tried to count them all, and failed. Not wolves. Something else. Something that didn’t belong.
He was already running again, all thoughts of the Blacksmith and the Old Man’s grave gone in a flash. He knew the way. It didn’t matter who the shadows were. What they were. No one could catch him in the hills. Not even shadows. His boots skimmed over the stones, cold forgotten. The wind rushed past his face, and the clouds cracked and beat against the blackened sky. The storm was almost on him. He could feel the shadows moving, closer, hear the footsteps thudding in the heavy quiet of the air. They were on both sides of him now, darting between the trees, silently clawing at his heels. They. Who were they? He wasn’t going to wait to find out.
He looked ahead. The telltale line of his path arched north and west across the slope, a soft string of pale stones in the dark. His eyes flicked towards the shadows, spilling like clouds through the trees behind him. A stone's throw, two, maybe less. But close, now. Close enough to see them. Black shapes, swarming over the stones. Clawing at the dark. His head ached, and his eyes blurred. He couldn’t see their faces, but it didn’t matter. They meant no good. There was something cold in his empty gut, dragging it into his heels. Time to move.
He looked back to the path. There, he knew his way, but they were too close. Instead, he turned west, looking straight down the slope. The village would not be far, that way. He fancied he could see the lights blinking through the trees. But it was too steep. Far too steep.
He looked back over his shoulder again. The shadows were coming closer, footsteps pounding like drums, faceless and dark. Whoever they were, they’d followed him. They had been there. Must have been watching the old man’s cave. Waiting for someone to come looking for him. Waiting to finish the job. Cal cursed silently. Careless.
The thunder cracked, overhead now, and lightning forked across the roiling sky with a flash. Faceless figures leered back at him in the dark, frozen like ice, and tore his eyes away, heart pounding in his chest. Don’t think. No time. He looked back down the slope. It was too steep. But there was no other way.
So he took one last deep breath, and started forward, plunging headlong down the bank. The dark rushed past him in blurring streaks, purple light bleeding through the clouds. He could barely see the way, staggering, stumbling, sliding, half-blind and weary to the bone, breath clawing at his throat. The shadows were at his back, surging over the rocks like a black tide. His heart beat to the rhythm of their footsteps, pounding in his chest. He forced himself not to look back. Lightning flashed. A tree loomed suddenly out of the searing white before him, and he fell clumsily around it, catching his shoulder with a jolt as he staggered past. Wind screeched through the silence of the trees, and rain speared down out of the broken sky, filling the air with sound. But he could still hear the footsteps. Close now. Almost at his heels, snatching at him. The slope was slick with water, and the wind bit at his frigid skin. Still they came on. Closer. His head ached, and his lungs were hot as forge-fire.
Then the air cracked, split, boomed, and the hillside shook as lightning slashed white fire across the sky. One of the trees beside him exploded in a hail of sparks, and he whirled away, skidding madly across the loam. The shadows fell away for a moment, and he stumbled on, weary and numb, frenzied heart driving him onward. Downward. Faster, faster. He blinked rain from his eyes, squinting. They were there, just ahead of him. The lights of the village, blinking back at him through the thinning trees. Just a few more steps…
Something hard caught his boot, and he tipped forward, suddenly off balance. A moment froze on his lips, and the trees were still, full of motionless shadows.
Then he was falling, tumbling head over heel, down, up, down, up, wild as wind. His world spun, and stones bit at his arms, his legs. His face. The shadows were almost on him. Faceless shapes spun past him as he fell, black as night, frozen and sightless. His head was bursting. His skin was on fire. Thunder crashed above the trees, and his world turned white. He closed his eyes, throwing out his arms to stop himself.
And took nothing but air. The scratching claws of the trees vanished. A moment, suspended, floating. The storm was far away. There was light in his eyes. Flickering…
His world lurched to a sudden, angry halt. The soaked earth crunched, and he went limp, shoulders crashing into his chest. Pain erupted down his spine, and a gargled breath caught in his wretched throat, choking the air from his lungs. The sound of thunder filled his ears again, and the wind slashed at him like a whip. He groaned, trying to untangle his legs, blinking at the water in his eyes, stinging, blurring. The lights of the village winked back at him, lanterns swinging wildly in the wind. He had made it. But the trees behind him were thrashing in the gale, and there were shadows moving through the boughs. Closer. They were coming. Coming for him.
He rolled onto his front, spasming like a beached fish. Lines of pain scored every inch of his arms and legs, and his shirt was ragged as willow leaves. He gritted his teeth, somehow getting his hands beneath him. He had to move. He heaved, almost screamed as his chest left the dirt. Spit turned sour, eyes blurred.
But then he was up. He was up, and he was moving, shambling grotesquely across the open ground. Towards the lights. They would help him. Footsteps. He could hear them. Footsteps on the stones. The storm roared overhead, thundering, stabbing, flashing fire across the sky. He stumbled, lurching like a cripple, back a rod of fire. The lights swayed, the wind howled, and the footsteps beat like drums at his back. He was working the latch, fingers scrabbling at the wood, breath ragged, heart pounding…
Then the door fell away, and he spilled helplessly into the light beyond. He slumped to his knees, staring wildly into the blinding gleam, and the villagers stared back at him dumbly, slack-jawed, mugs slipping from their fingers.
‘Makers be good.’ Someone murmured.
The floor rose up to meet him, and his eyes went slack.

Bonus chapter celebration continues. Part 3 at the same time tomorrow. Series Page - Read 10 weeks ahead on Patreon - Read the story so far on Royal Road * Chapter Twelve - The Blacksmith's Boy (Part Two)
‘Grrrn.’ Cal stumbled in the stones, sliding a few paces down the slope. The rocks bit at his boots, and he began to topple forward, but his shoulder thumped into a tree trunk, jarring him to a stop. He hugged it to his chest, panting hard, and stood there for a few moments, sur-rounded by the silence of the forest. His brow ached from frowning, and his eyes stung with salty tears. But he never slipped. Not ever. He pulled himself upright on the trunk, shivering. It was cold without his cloak, he noticed now. Cold with winter. There was an ominous dark to the evening sky, clouded with thick banks of shad-ow, and a distant rumble hummed against the mountainside. A storm was coming, and it would be dark before he made it back to the forge. He cursed under his breath, and set off again through the trees, feet skipping over the stones. The Blacksmith would be… Hang the Blacksmith. He had stopped him from going to the Old Man. Stopped him from warning him. The cave was still smoking. There had been time. He could have stopped it. Instead, the cave was empty, full of ash, and the Old Man was in the ground. What was left of him. His half-riddled words. His ancient stories. His knowing. Of that, there was nothing. Whispers in the wind. Perhaps it had been nothing, all along. Cal exhaled. His word was hard as stone, now. The ache of wait-ing was gone. Only the word was left. He gritted his teeth, shaking his head. The Blacksmith was only protecting him. What could he have done, that a Greycloak couldn’t? The man was old, but he knew these hills almost better than Cal did. There wouldn’t have been anything he could have done. He’d have burned with him. Thunder cracked, closer this time, and Cal was scowling. He could have warned him. Before. There had been time. He could have fled. The clouds overhead had taken on a faint purplish hue, drink-ing the last light of the day. The darkness was deepening, and he was still far from home. But the anger was hot in his chest, and his tears were spent. Asking after that Greycloak fellow. The Blacksmith had stopped him, but he didn’t light the fire. He had not killed him. The Innkeep’s words echoed in his ears, vibrat-ing like a distant bell. Strangers had come asking. Strangers from the lowlands. And the cave had burned. His breath was thick and hot in his breast. Cold air raw against his spent throat. The salt of his tears cracked on his cheeks, and his empty belly was a lead ball in his gut. The narrow pines rushed past him like blades, blurring into a patchwork of slashed shadows, and his feet beat against the silence, crunching in the shale and loam. There’d be time for thinking, later. Time for figuring out what to do next. Once he was warm beside a fire, and the storm was spent. He blinked. He squinted into the gathering dark. Something was moving. Moving in the shifting trees. Off across the slope to the north. Nothing much, mind, but any moving up this far from the vil-lage was unusual. The hunters said that wolves roamed this high in the hills, sometimes. The hungry kind, the kind that find no food on the lower slopes, that come wild-eyed and desperate to the rock and shale. Not that Cal had ever seen one, but he slowed his pace all the same, suddenly very aware of the sound of his footsteps. His breath. He stared off along the slope, tracing the swaying trees. Nothing else stirred. Nothing but him. His mind was playing tricks. He took an-other step… … and stopped dead again. There it was. Away to his right. North. He couldn’tt have imagined it, this time. Something darker than the trees. He turned slowly, blinking at the creeping gloom. The silence clawed at his ears, and his breath rattled in his raw lungs. Nothing but the rumble of the clouds. Nothing but… Footsteps. And not his own. There were shadows moving through the trees, coming closer. Shadows in black. His breath caught in his throat, and a shiver ran up his spine. One. Two. He tried to count them all, and failed. Not wolves. Something else. Something that didn’t belong. He was already running again, all thoughts of the Blacksmith and the Old Man’s grave gone in a flash. He knew the way. It didn’t matter who the shadows were. What they were. No one could catch him in the hills. Not even shadows. His boots skimmed over the stones, cold forgotten. The wind rushed past his face, and the clouds cracked and beat against the blackened sky. The storm was almost on him. He could feel the shadows moving, closer, hear the foot-steps thudding in the heavy quiet of the air. They were on both sides of him now, darting between the trees, silently clawing at his heels. They. Who were they? He wasn’t going to wait to find out. He looked ahead. The telltale line of his path arched north and west across the slope, a soft string of pale stones in the dark. His eyes flicked towards the shadows, spilling like clouds through the trees behind him. A stone's throw, two, maybe less. But close, now. Close enough to see them. Black shapes, swarming over the stones. Clawing at the dark. His head ached, and his eyes blurred. He couldn’t see their faces, but it didn’t matter. They meant no good. There was something cold in his empty gut, dragging it into his heels. Time to move. He looked back to the path. There, he knew his way, but they were too close. Instead, he turned west, looking straight down the slope. The village would not be far, that way. He fancied he could see the lights blinking through the trees. But it was too steep. Far too steep. He looked back over his shoulder again. The shadows were com-ing closer, footsteps pounding like drums, faceless and dark. Who-ever they were, they’d followed him. They had been there. Must have been watching the old man’s cave. Waiting for someone to come looking for him. Waiting to finish the job. Cal cursed silently. Careless. The thunder cracked, overhead now, and lightning forked across the roiling sky with a flash. Faceless figures leered back at him in the dark, frozen like ice, and tore his eyes away, heart pounding in his chest. Don’t think. No time. He looked back down the slope. It was too steep. But there was no other way. So he took one last deep breath, and started forward, plunging headlong down the bank. The dark rushed past him in blurring streaks, purple light bleeding through the clouds. He could barely see the way, staggering, stumbling, sliding, half-blind and weary to the bone, breath clawing at his throat. The shadows were at his back, surging over the rocks like a black tide. His heart beat to the rhythm of their footsteps, pounding in his chest. He forced himself not to look back. Lightning flashed. A tree loomed suddenly out of the searing white before him, and he fell clumsily around it, catching his shoulder with a jolt as he staggered past. Wind screeched through the silence of the trees, and rain speared down out of the broken sky, filling the air with sound. But he could still hear the footsteps. Close now. Almost at his heels, snatching at him. The slope was slick with water, and the wind bit at his frigid skin. Still they came on. Closer. His head ached, and his lungs were hot as forge-fire. Then the air cracked, split, boomed, and the hillside shook as lightning slashed white fire across the sky. One of the trees beside him exploded in a hail of sparks, and he whirled away, skidding madly across the loam. The shadows fell away for a moment, and he stumbled on, weary and numb, frenzied heart driving him onward. Downward. Faster, faster. He blinked rain from his eyes, squinting. They were there, just ahead of him. The lights of the village, blink-ing back at him through the thinning trees. Just a few more steps… Something hard caught his boot, and he tipped forward, suddenly off balance. A moment froze on his lips, and the trees were still, full of motionless shadows. Then he was falling, tumbling head over heel, down, up, down, up, wild as wind. His world spun, and stones bit at his arms, his legs. His face. The shadows were almost on him. Faceless shapes spun past him as he fell, black as night, frozen and sightless. His head was bursting. His skin was on fire. Thunder crashed above the trees, and his world turned white. He closed his eyes, throwing out his arms to stop himself. And took nothing but air. The scratching claws of the trees van-ished. A moment, suspended, floating. The storm was far away. There was light in his eyes. Flickering… His world lurched to a sudden, angry halt. The soaked earth crunched, and he went limp, shoulders crashing into his chest. Pain erupted down his spine, and a gargled breath caught in his wretched throat, choking the air from his lungs. The sound of thunder filled his ears again, and the wind slashed at him like a whip. He groaned, trying to untangle his legs, blinking at the water in his eyes, stinging, blurring. The lights of the village winked back at him, lanterns swinging wildly in the wind. He had made it. But the trees behind him were thrashing in the gale, and there were shadows moving through the boughs. Closer. They were coming. Coming for him. He rolled onto his front, spasming like a beached fish. Lines of pain scored every inch of his arms and legs, and his shirt was ragged as willow leaves. He gritted his teeth, somehow getting his hands beneath him. He had to move. He heaved, almost screamed as his chest left the dirt. Spit turned sour, eyes blurred. But then he was up. He was up, and he was moving, shambling grotesquely across the open ground. Towards the lights. They would help him. Footsteps. He could hear them. Footsteps on the stones. The storm roared overhead, thundering, stabbing, flashing fire across the sky. He stumbled, lurching like a cripple, back a rod of fire. The lights swayed, the wind howled, and the footsteps beat like drums at his back. He was working the latch, fingers scrabbling at the wood, breath ragged, heart pounding… Then the door fell away, and he spilled helplessly into the light beyond. He slumped to his knees, staring wildly into the blinding gleam, and the villagers stared back at him dumbly, slack-jawed, mugs slipping from their fingers. ‘Makers be good.’ Someone murmured. The floor rose up to meet him, and his eyes went slack.

This was just copy/pasted from google docs so apologies in advance for any formatting issues.
​
​
19°28’N 37°14’E
Near Port Sudan, Sudan, Africa.
Another helicopter thundered past in the distance, following the line of the oil pipeline back towards the port facilities.
"That's three in the past hour," Cody observed. "Still think nothing's going on?" "I think if you want to bother Adams again it's gonna be your ass." Keith replied.
"Come on, don't be like that." Cody said.
"Nope."
"Come on, don't be a bitch."
"Nope."
"Bitch says what."
"Nope."
"Got fifty bucks says you won't do it."
"Nope."
"Will both of you shut the fuck up," Eduardo groaned from the back seat of the vehicle. "We're almost done here and you can go harass Adams in person when we get back to base."
"Yeah but I'm curious now." Cody said.
"Well, tell Miles to turn this vic around and we can go."
"What do you say, Miles? You know Adams doesn't check the log timestamps too closely."
"The final marker is literally thirty meters away," Miles said patiently. "I will turn the vic around there and we will drive back to base and you can badger Adams into a stroke on your own time. Until then, watch your sector."
"Uh well, my sector's full of sand, can I have a different one?"
"There's some rocks in mine."
"Like the face of the fucking moon out here, man." Cody moaned.
"Maybe you shouldn't have signed up for a job in the fucking Sudan, genius." Eduardo said.
"Man, I'm just here for the money." Cody replied.
"Well, I'm not here for the weather." Martin said, cranking the wheel around in a practiced motion. The battered white SUV slewed around, wheels spraying dust and pebbles. Cody keyed the radio on his vest. "Base, this is Cody checking in. We're at the outer marker for the southern patrol path, heading back, over."
There was the faint buzz of static.
"Copy that, Cody. Any contacts?"
"No contacts, base. All quiet here. Out."
Martin patted Cody on the shoulder. "Proud of you, buddy. That took real strength."
Cody flipped him off.
The radio crackled again. "Cody, this is base, where did you say you were?"
"Base, this is Cody, we are at the outer marker for our patrol route, heading back your way, over."
"Uh, copy Cody, hang on one second."
“Cody, this is Adams,” a new voice said over the radio. “I need your team to swing west and investigate unauthorized activity near the pipeline in, uh grid square A54-41."
"The fuck this is Cody's team." Keith muttered from the back.
"Copy that, Adams, we'll move to investigate immediately," Cody said crisply. "Any intel on the intruders?"
The radio crackled again. "The uh, number of intruders is unknown at this time."
Miles keyed his own radio. "Adams, who called this report in?"
"The report was forwarded to us by local security forces."
A chorus of groans rose from the interior of the SUV.
"Fuckin' locals." Eduardo said.
"And why isn't local security handling this?"
"Miles, I don't need to remind you that Vericom has been contracted to guard the terminal facilities and pipeline-"
"Yeah yeah, spare me the geopolitics, Adams, I'm just a dumb trigger puller, remember? I'm not asking you why I'm here, I'm asking why the very much armed local security isn't apprehending the trespassers."
"The local security called it in," Adams replied in a tight, angry voice. "And under the terms of our contract we are responsible for apprehending any trespassers in our zone. Is that satisfactory, Mr. Martin?"
"Copy, moving to apprehend. Out."
"Fuckin' locals." Eduardo muttered again as the SUV turned towards the new destination.
"Coming up on the location now." Cody was tapping at the topographical map displayed on his ruggedized tablet.
"Copy that," Miles said absently, maneuvering the SUV around a scattering of larger boulders. Behind him Keith rolled down his window and propped the muzzle of his M4 carbine on the opening.
"Relax," Eduardo said. "Just some lost people."
"Maybe." Keith said, squinting out over the dusty, rolling terrain.
The SUV bounced over the crest of another low ridge, the long dust plume trailing behind it in the harsh midday sun. Miles slowed to a stop. In the far distance there was a glint of light off a moving vehicle traversing the coastal highway. There was no other sign of life in sight.
"Yeah, there's nothing out here." Cody said after a few moments.
Keith had extracted a pair of binoculars from his chest rig and was scanning the surroundings.
"Nothing on this side, boss." Eduardo said.
"Keith?" Miles said.
"Nothing moving but heat haze."
"Cody, call in negative contact. Let's head back to base." Miles said as the SUV rolled forward.
"Copy copy." Cody keyed his radio. "Base, this is Cody, we're at grid A54-41, negative on contact with intruders, over."
"Copy that Cody, we haven't gotten any other reports in your zone, go ahead and head in."
"Thanks very much, base, will do. Cody out."
The SUV bumped and bounced its way back onto the “paved” road. While the main coastal highway was in decent shape, the smaller roads were mostly potholes and washouts held together by cracked concrete and gravel. Although flatter than the surrounding landscape, it was a bold or desperate driver that would risk driving on it at normal highway speeds. This fact most likely saved four lives as Miles had plenty of time to spot the dusty tan plate lying in the road as the vehicle slowly bounced towards it.
“Guys, is that a land mine I’m seeing in the road ahead?” Miles said, pointing. “Directly ahead, maybe twenty yards, just past the two bushes.”
Cody sat up, peering through the dusty windshield. “Slow up, slow up. Shit, I think you’re right.”
“Call it in,” Miles said. “We use this road all the time, what was the last team through here?"
"Dallas' team had outer perimeter patrol this morning." Keith volunteered.
"Base, this is Cody, we've got what looks like a landmine on Route 33, maybe two or three klicks from the coastal highway, please advise, over."
There was a brief hiss of static. No reply.
"Base, do you read, over?"
Static.
“Base, this is a fucking great time for a coffee break!”
No answer.
“Guys, I think this is a no shit situation,” Miles said, putting the SUV in reverse. “Let’s get off the X and back to base.”
Cody slid his AR up into the ready position. Keith and Eduardo already had their rifles out and ready.
Miles executed a hasty three point turn and gunned the SUV back the way they had come.
“How concerned should we be right now?” Keith shouted over the engine noise. “Not the
first time we’ve lost comms with base out here.”
“Could be nothing,” Miles shouted back. “But out here it could be a strike on the port or oil terminal. Not that hard to jam comms and drop a few mines on the roads.”
“Hell, I’m here for it.” Keith shouted.
“I’ll keep trying to raise base or one of the other teams.” Cody shouted.
The SUV bounced and lurched its way back over the route it had taken and finally reached the coastal highway where Miles jammed the pedal down. Cody still couldn’t make contact with base but was able to reach another patrolling team who confirmed that base was incommunicado. As they roared up the coastal highway Cody pointed towards a rising plume of dense black smoke ahead of them. “Looks like shit’s gone down, boys.”
“Fuck,” Keith swore, peering around Cody’ headrest to look ahead. “So much for site security.”
“Guys, we’ve got a roadblock ahead.” Cody said, pointing. A dilapidated cargo truck had stopped and was attempting to turn around. A pair of pickup trucks were just visible beyond it, blocking off the road in a shallow V. Men in mismatched fatigues and headscarves stood atop them holding rifles.
“Are those our guys?” Miles asked, slowing the SUV.
“Fuck if I can tell from here.” Cody said.
“Well I’m not fucking moving up.” Miles said.
“Go around,” Eduardo said, peering out his window. “No ditch here.”
“Go now while the truck is between us and them.” Keith added.
“Hang on.” Miles gunned the SUV down the shallow embankment parallel to the roadblock.
Keith twisted around in his seat. “They’re tracking us”.
Miles glanced in the rearview mirror. The guards were pointing and waving their arms at the SUV. One of them with a pistol in one hand and a radio in the other seemed to be giving orders
“Are we still under the ROE?” Cody asked. “I’d really like to shoot back if they try to kill us.”
“I’m not dying over fucked comms and a misunderstanding.” Keith said.
The checkpoint guards were scrambling into their trucks. One of them ripped off a burst that went wide.
“Fuck it, that’s good enough for me,” Miles said, slamming on the brakes. “Dismount and engage hostiles.”
The men threw themselves out of the vehicle. Eduardo and Cody went prone in the dirt and began firing. On the other side Keith propped his rifle on the vehicle’s bumper and squeezed off several careful shots.
The checkpoint guards had been caught by surprise by the sudden attack. One of the trucks had just roared into motion when the bullets began punching through the windshield. The other was still parked, its crew climbing into the cab when the shooting started. Multiple rounds smashed the windshield into a starred, opaque mess. The driver leaped from the seat and ran for cover behind the truck wheels. Miles shot him in the back and he dropped.
The other truck rolled forward down the shallow incline with a dead driver at the wheel. The guards in the back continued firing over the roof. The back window of the SUV shattered and bullets banged off the steel frame, showering Keith and Eduardo with shards of safety glass. Miles fired at a guard crouched in the truck bed and the man disappeared, then popped back up again when Miles shifted targets. Miles shifted back and fired again, his gun clicking empty on the third shot. He dropped the empty magazine and yanked a new one from his vest. The new mag clicked into place and Miles resumed shooting. A corner of his mind was pleasantly surprised at how easily it was done under fire.
One of the guards on the far truck bailed off the back and fled across the road, disappearing into the ditch on the far side. Suddenly no one was firing back at them.
Miles cautiously rose to his feet. With Keith and Cody covering him, he and Eduardo circled wide around the checkpoint, scanning for any sign of life. Nothing moved but wisps of steam from under the hood of one of the trucks. He waved the others in. They swept the checkpoint carefully. There were six dead guards and a blood trail leading out into the brush.
“Fuck.” Keith said emphatically.
“Fuck me,” Cody said, slotting in a fresh mag. “You guys good?
“I’m good.” Keith said.
“Good here.” Eduardo said, patting himself down.
“I’m ok.” Martin said.
“Fuck,” Keith said again. “Fuckers just opened up on us. These weren’t local security, right?”
“Check the bodies for intel,” Miles said, already rifling through the pockets of one of the shooters. “I don’t know who the fuck these guys were but we’re gonna get grilled about this.”
The three of them methodically searched the bodies while Eduardo held overwatch. None of the bodies had any documents on them. The weapons were gathered and stacked in the back of one of the trucks while the bodies were laid out next to it. Martin retrieved their SUV which proved to have suffered no worse damage than shot out windows and the four of them piled in.
Cody finally got a response on the radio as they neared the base. A rattled Adams responded to their calls by ordering them in to assist with base security. “Radio shack got hit and we’ve been dealing with jamming. We still have two patrols out in the field who haven’t reported in, we need you to assist in maintaining a defensive perimeter.”
“Copy that, boss. Tell base we’re coming in so don’t fucking shoot at us. Already dealt with that once today.”
They dismounted in the central courtyard. The comms building had taken a direct hit from an RPG and was still smoking. Two sheet covered bodies lay beside it. Several of the other buildings had bullet holes and other signs of battle damage.
As directed, the team took up defensive positions on the roof of one of the perimeter buildings. Dallas’ team was on a nearby building overlooking the main entrance. Miles got on the radio and contacted them.
“Glad to see y’all made it,” Dallas said by way of greeting. “Been a real shitshow here.” He pointed towards the billowing black smoke belching out of the wreckage of the oil pipeline terminal. “Probably not getting our contract renewed for this site.”
“So what the fuck happened?” Miles asked.
“Don’t know. We were in the bunkhouse when we heard the radio shack get hit. Whoever it was lit the place up and then peeled out. We had barely gotten outside when the oil terminal went up. Someone said they saw Sea Ports Corporation logos on the trucks but I don’t know if that’s true. All I saw was dust.”
“Shit, you think that’s true? Locals were behind this?”
“Someone with more brains than your average fanatic is. They knew exactly what to hit and exactly how to jam our comms.”
“They mined the roads along our patrol routes too, so either they’ve been watching us or they paid off someone on the inside.”
“Smart.” Dallas said.
“I saw the two bodies by the radio shack. Any of your team get hit?”
“Negative. They were in and out. I think someone in the admin building caught a stray round but that was all.”
“I know Shedge was on shift in comms,” Miles said. “Who was the other?”
“Morris.” Dallas said.
They fell silent for a while.
The two missing patrol teams drove in thirty minutes later in a single shot up SUV. They had come under long range fire from hidden enemies and had evaded out into the desert. One of the vehicles had been disabled, but the team managed to dismount and take cover while the other vehicle moved to pick them up. One team member had been grazed on the leg and another had taken a hit to the chest plate. The uninjured team members joined them on the perimeter defense. No attack materialized.
A convoy of Sudanese military vehicles rolled in late that evening to take charge of the terminal. The PMC personnel were ordered to collect their personal items and evacuate the site. The Sudanese wanted them out, so while the company lawyers argued with the Sudanese administration, all personnel on the ground were transported out to Port Sudan International Airport for flights back to the United States.
Miles, Keith, Cody, and Eduardo caught up with each other outside the terminal. Keith was chatting with two of the airport ground crew in passable Arabic as the others walked up.
“Hey, you guys aren’t going to believe this but apparently there’s been a bunch of foreign fighter types coming through here in the past several weeks.” Keith said by way of greeting.
“Go fucking figure.” Miles said.
“I don’t even give a shit,” Cody said, unwrapping a pack of cigarettes. “In a couple of hours I’ll be on my way back home with a fat early contract termination check in my pocket.”
Eduardo nodded. “We all survived, importantly.”
“Amen to that.” Cody said.
The ground crew members bid Keith farewell and sauntered off towards the terminal.
There was silence for a minute while Cody methodically extracted and lit up a cigarette.
“That was pretty fucking badass though,” Miles said. “Shot our way out of an ambush and drove home.”
“Pretty wild.” Keith agreed.
“Never saw the people I killed before,” Eduardo said. “Returning fire yes, but not securing the bodies. Always gone afterwards.”
“I definitely had that out-of-body feeling you get sometimes under fire,” Cody said. “Like you’re just watching your own body go through the motions while you sit and watch.”
“I never got that,” Miles said. “I was inside my own head but I always knew somehow what to do next. Like even when we swept the roadblock I knew exactly where to turn and where the bodies were going to be. It sounds crazy but I wasn’t really scared of getting shot, I was scared of moving wrong or stepping in the wrong place and I’d break the focus and suddenly I’d have to think through every motion again.”
Eduardo nodded. “I know how that feels.”
Another silence. Cody took a deep drag on the cigarette.
“You don’t think we’ll get fired over this, do you?” Keith asked. “Because I still have bills to pay back home and I don’t need this on my record.”
“I doubt it,” Cody said. “I mean, its completely out of our hands so who the fuck knows really. But its not something you get fired over. You see how fast they’re pulling us out of here, like no operation debrief or anything? Company’s got bigger problems to worry about right now.”
“Like the oil pipeline that got blown up, not about a possible bad shoot in the desert.” Keith said.
“Oil terminal.” Miles corrected quietly.
“You watch,” Cody continued. “In about three days some Vericom executive is going to strap on his golden parachute and take a dive off the top floor because the company stock dipped by sixty cents. Then we’ll all get an email with a big fat non-disclosure agreement attached showing up in our inboxes.”
“You would work for them again?” Eduardo sounded surprised.
“Fuck it, why not?” Cody said. “The pay’s good, and what are the odds that a fuck up like this happens to me twice?”
“Seems like higher odds than before.” Miles said.
“Everybody’s running a little hot these days,” Keith said. “You’ve got the Syrian and Yemen civil wars, the military coup in Turkey, the bombings in Europe, the riots in India, the drug wars in Mexico and southeast Asia, plus that bombing at the Olympics.”
“I still think that one was a false flag.” Cody said.
“Bullshit, that was the work of ISIS scum.” Eduardo replied angrily.
“He’s got a point, Cody,” Miles said. “They grabbed one of the bombers before he could clack off his vest after all.”
“Maybe,” Cody said. “Now the shooting at the Clinton rally, that was a false flag, no question. The FBI practically admitted it. They’re terrified she’ll lose and they need a few martyrs.”
“Don’t know why you pay so much attention to that,” Miles said. “Not like the other guy is any better. Just a pair of narcissistic old fucks getting their rocks off on the American people’s dime.”
“I like to know which side is going to be screaming about a rigged election for the next four years while their savings and civil liberties go up in smoke.” Cody lit another cigarette from the butt of the first.
“You know I hate it when you chain smoke and turn into Alex Jones.” Miles said.
“Brother, you should see me on meth.” Cody grinned.
“I didn’t know you smoked at all.” Eduardo said.
“Only on the way home,” Cody said. “Otherwise I don’t.”
The four of them stood around on the airport tarmac until the encroaching evening chill drove them inside with the rest of the Vericom personnel. Miles’ last glimpse of Sudan was the stark black outline of the western hills as the sun sank behind them. Then night fell and the only light was the harsh white arc lights of the airport illuminating the red and white airliner being fueled to carry them home.
$$$$
News Headlines of the day:
FBI: Philadelphia shooter had ‘strong ties’ to right wing ultranationalist groups.
US economy signals uncertainty as Far East trade war heats up.
British lawmaker shot dead, EU referendum campaigns suspended
Prominent Mexican politician, family among the dead following Sinaloa cartel gun battle.
‘Terrorism is not welcome here’: Sudanese President issues warning following oil pipeline bombing.

This whole thing started as a nightmare and eventually got solved with a couple really great service providers. I wanted to share the experience and cost in case someone run into a similar situation.
One of our french drain sump pump drain pipes was clogged and jetting did not resolve the issue. I had to replace the 30 foot line from the side of my house to catch basin in the street.
First: Vinny at YourLocalDrainMan.com spent a 2+ hours trying to snake and jet the pipe. He found that one end was nearly collapsed; he was almost successful but in the end was unable to clear the line. He charged me less than originally quoted because he couldn't fix it and didn't spend as much time on it. Who does that?! He does. Really honest and professional person. He recommended Tom.
Second: Tom Bucci Excavation and Paving (I don't think they have a website!)- Tom only has a couple of reviews on Angi and one on Yelp but I gave him a call on Vinny's recommendation. He visited in a couple of days and laid out the plan. You get a vibe/read on certain people and I just felt super comfortable with Tom and his son Tony. Tom even spoke with the Building Dept to see if the issue closest to the basin was the result of the recent curb work to see if they'd pick up some of the cost. Unfortunately, he wasn't successful. Given that I know nothing about this stuff I was anxious and worried about what might go wrong but Tom and his crew covered everything imaginable and did a fantastic job. They:
​

• Arrived on time with everything necessary to do the work.
• Crew of 4 + excavator
• Had the Gas and Water guys come out to mark the lines.
• Replaced the entire drain line.
• Made sure the gutter and sump pump connections we correctly position. One was back-pitched.
• Tied in a connection they found near the basin from the driveway.
• Cemented the surrounding area around the entry at the basin.
• Replaced all the soil. Raked it evenly. Reseeded with peat moss and straw. Here I am thinking I needed to call a landscaper!
• Kept everything tidy and cleaned up beautifully.

I paid $3400 for all of this work and honestly I feel it was worth much more. The professionalism, level of excellence, and downright respectfulness were simply outstanding.

I'm using bigger reactors 1.16.5 version and we're having a lot of trouble getting it to cool properly. There's very little documentation I can find online for the mod. It's a passively cooled reactor, and we're using liquid starlight as a moderator, but no matter how many pumps or coolant ports we put on it just isn't getting water into it fast enough. We're using immersive engineering pumps as we don't have any other mods with pumps aside from create. Due to the lack of water, it's not ever generating enough steam and its overheating massively. What kind of set up should I use to get water to flow in properly?

This was posted in the AngryObservation subreddit (that I stumbled on two seconds ago)
Essay posted by u/dcmetro7
https://www.reddit.com/usedcmetro7/
Democrats have a branding problem : AngryObservation (reddit.com)

Democrats have a branding problem

😴 Long Observation 😴
I was inspired by u/Randomuser1520 's post about the Democratic Party's seemingly weak bench of future potential presidential nominees.
A lot of the problems trace back to 2016, but I'd argue the Democrats' branding woes go back even further. Think all the way back to the last time the Democrats had a consistently strong electoral record as a party -- the 90s, where the only truly bad year for Ds was 1994. Bill Clinton had successfully rebranded the party under the 'Third Way' label that Dems at any level could embrace and benefit from, and he had a clear successor in Al Gore. But Gore loses narrowly in 2000, and the problems for the Dems' brand begin.
'Yes We Can'
After 9/11, the electorate supports Bush and they support war. Dems' brand takes a hit and they lose the 2002 midterms. In 2004, John Kerry is successfully painted as an out-of-touch Ivy League liberal, disengaged from 'real America.' Dems lose and their brand suffers further.
But by the end of Bush's term, most Americans are disillusioned with Dubyaism. They wanted change, and one man promises to lead them to it with posters that proclaim 'HOPE' and cries of 'Yes We Can,' heralding in a new age of politics. Barack Obama and the Democrats are swept into a trifecta in Washington.
And we certainly got a new age of politics. When Obama was inaugurated, pundits speculated about the 'emerging Democratic majority', and how the GOP may literally go extinct in ten years. By the end of Obama's second term, those same pundits are surveying the absolutely decimated state of the Democratic party at all levels of power. Dems had lost the Senate, the House, most governorships, and most state legislatures. Control of the state legislatures makes the GOP's hold on the House even stronger. Control of the Senate effectively leads to control of the Supreme Court.
While Obama certainly can't be blamed for everything the GOP threw at him, I feel like it's safe to say his rebranding of the Democratic party failed in the long run. The 'Party of Hope' was sunk into the quagmire of a slow economic recovery, some of the most cynical politicking ever, and some of the most dysfunctional White House-Congress relationships in the history of the country. Obama's signature healthcare legislation would languish in the 30s approval-wise until after he left office. By 2015, no one was talking about the Democrats as the Party of Hope anymore. Even the guy who designed the original 'Hope' poster said he was frustrated by the lack of progress under the Obama admin. I'd argue that the Republicans were responsible for the clear majority of this dysfunction, but if their goal was to muddy the waters between the parties, they succeeded. And with the Tea Party, they were better at rebranding themselves even when they were in the opposition.
And none of this was helped by the face that Obama seemed extremely reluctant, even uninterested, in stepping into the role of party leader. Congressional Democrats were frustrated at the way he kept his distance from them, making it hard to solidify the policy goals they'd implemented in his first term. This article (https://www.nytimes.com/2014/08/19/us/aloof-obama-is-frustrating-his-own-party.html) sums it up well, with this prescient quote sticking out:

In interviews, nearly two dozen Democratic lawmakers and senior congressional aides suggested that Mr. Obama’s approach has left him with few loyalists to effectively manage the issues erupting abroad and at home and could imperil his efforts to leave a legacy in his final stretch in office.

And sure enough, Obama's legacy was in peril before he even left office.
'Stronger Together'
In 2016, Democrats didn't plan for a primary, they planned for a coronation. Hillary Clinton had been locking up all the support she could get from the Democratic establishment while Obama was serving his second term. Biden would seem like the clear establishment successor, but by the time he was able to turn his attention from VP duties to the primary he realized Hillary had completely boxed him out. She had already corralled all the big donors, operatives, and endorsements into her corner, and Joe was checkmated before he even sat down to the board. Thus, he turned down the opportunity, likely burying his long-nurtured presidential ambitions.
But then the coronation gets bumpy. Sanders challenges her from the outside, and immediately begins putting her on the spot as to why she's running. In other words, what does she envision for the Democratic brand? Hillary herself doesn't know. Is it a third term of Bill (whose star was starting to fade among everyone whose name doesn't rhyme with Shames Scarville), a third term of Obama (whose Hope posters have since become landfill), or an all-new thing?
To Hillary's credit, she couldn't portray herself as a total break from the past, both because she had been was strongly anchored to the national political landscape for the last thirty years, and because she could hardly attack Obama's record too harshly. In the end, she also struggled to brand both herself and the party. Consider the slogans most associated with her campaign; 'Forward Together' and 'Stronger Together' sound like the slogans of a centrist third party with no concrete policy ideas. They just attempted to project a feeling of unity onto a people who were united only, if the candidacies of Sanders and Trump meant anything, in the feeling that 'establishment' politicians like HRC had failed. And, of course, 'I'm with Her' was barely a rebrand at all, simply associating the party with its uncharismatic yet seemingly unstoppable frontrunner.
In the meantime, Trump had done the opposite, rebranding himself and the GOP as the party of 'America First populism.' What that meant exactly in terms of policy seemed to change from day to day But as a brand, as a forceful statement of intent, it worked, especially when contrasted with a seemingly rudderless HRC campaign that failed to answer the age-old question: 'Why are you running for president?'
'For the People'
After the 2016 fiasco, the Democrats were decimated and leaderless. Senate Majority Leader Harry Reid had passed his leadership position to Chuck Schumer and passed on soon after Trump took office. Tim Ryan led a mutiny against Nancy Pelosi, blaming her in part for the party's plunge from ascendance to irrelevance in the House. Hillary Clinton disappeared into the woods of Chappaqua. Obama started making a docu-series for Netflix. Joe Biden entered semi-retirement and wrote a book.
But in all of this, they found something they had been lacking. A brand.
Not the one they would have preferred, but one that would work nonetheless for winning elections. House Dems would embrace the (once-again) vague slogan of 'For the People' ahead of the 2018 midterms, but the aim was clear. The Democrats were now the Opposition; the Anti-Trump party.
Trump's approval rating was not just low, but incredibly sticky. People tended to have very firm opinions on him, and so his approval rating barely escaped the 35-45% range, with him almost hitting 50% before the pandemic hit. Thus, running on opposition to Trump would be fine electorally. In 2018, the Democrats had a blue wave year based mostly on opposition to Trump, retaking the house. Ironically, a big policy motivator for voters was backlash against the GOP's effort to repeal and replace Obamacare -- a promise that had driven Republican electoral gains since the bill was passed into law. Republican branding and messaging had been so successful that, for the better part of the decade, people trusted them to 'fix' the ACA until the very last minute before the replacement was signed.
'Battle for the Soul of the Nation'
But the problem remained for 2020 -- who would lead them? This was a difficult decision even before the pandemic. And Democratic primary voters were treated to a veritable buffet on angles on how to rebrand the party to beat Trump.
Should the party embrace democratic socialism under Sanders, or heavy consumer advocacy under Warren? Should it embrace a young, charismatic up-and-comer like Harris, Buttigieg, or O'Rourke or someone just as 'establishment' as Hillary, like Michael Bloomberg? Old-school liberalism with the Klob? Whatever Andrew Yang was doing?
But as the polls drew near, the Democrats seemed to conclude that beating Trump was simply more important than charting a new course for the party. If they could get elected or rebrand, they'd choose the former. And so all the other more moderate candidates dropped out to consolidate the vote around Biden, as the safe, expected pick who could stay the course. Biden and his surrogates began adopting the slogan 'Battle for the Soul of the Nation,' an epic and apocalyptic phrase that is still fundamentally reactive in tone, implying that the biggest motivator to vote for Democrats that fall was not to pass any specific agenda, but to put a stop to the GOP's plans.
Biden wouldn't govern in this way, but he would campaign this way -- as the normal, capable candidate who could lead the country's post-covid recovery in opposition to Trump's perceived incompetence. Biden won, but Democrats didn't get nearly the boost they wanted from covid, and House candidates underperformed Biden nationally, leading to a surprising loss of seats in the House. And after the effort to throw out the election failed, Trump left office with severely damaged standing with independents. The anti-Trump brand had delivered Dems a trifecta; now it was time to use it; hopefully to establish a new brand for a new decade.
'Building Back Better'
Upon taking office, Biden and the Dems lay out their agenda; the 'Build Back Better' plan, which centers on a three-pronged approach; a pandemic relief bill, an infrastructure bill, and a social policy bill. Passing such plans will involve all 50 Senate D's on board in some cases, and a bipartisan filibuster-proof majority of 60 senators in other cases.
People laugh, think back to 2010, and begin arguing whether a prediction that the GOP will control 55 Senate seats by 2023 is too conservative. Nancy Pelosi is trying to manage a mere five-seat majority in the house. Mitch McConnell, who once feasted on the Democrats' lost hopes the way a hungry turtle devours a plate of juicy strawberries, still held enough sway in the Senate to hold up any significant policy not related to budget reconciliation. Even then, Schumer must wrangle mavericks like Joe Manchin and Kyrsten Sinema. Dramatic divisions still rip across the fabric of American society. But then, something truly strange happens.
The 117th Congress ends up being one of the most productive sessions ever.
Whether or not you think any or all of the 117th's acts were good policy, it's undeniable that this was an unusually politically efficient session, especially considering the last decade of hardball politics. Bipartisan majorities drive the infrastructure act, a gun control act, a tech-manufacturing promotion act, and even a somewhat-legalization of same-sex marriage nationwide. Plus, Schumer and Pelosi navigate their tiny majorities toward passing partisan priorities, like the pandemic relief act and the scaled-down Build Back Better social policy bill, rebranded as the Inflation Reduction Act or IRA. McConnell drops his trademark stonewalling and collaborates with Biden on the bipartisan bills, and 'Yea' votes roll in even from deep red states -- Republican senators from Mississippi, West Virginia, and North Dakota get these bills over the line. Bipartisanship returns to Congress in fleeting glances -- something that I feel confident in arguing absolutely no one expected Biden or the Dem leaders to be able to do.
Of course, no one has forgotten 2010, and 2022 looks to be another rough year. Inflation soars, and Biden's approval rating drops. Dems brace for impact. The Dobbs ruling happens, but polls repeatedly suggest that the economy is the top issue on voters' minds, and they don't like Biden's handling of it.
But while these things are true, they ignore a crucial factor -- the GOP is embroiled in an identity crisis of its own. The leader of the party is claiming to be the legitimate president of the United States, which is a bit of a hard issue to ignore. Trump loyalists beat out 'establishment' Republicans in the primaries, and bring their hard promotion of the MAGA brand to the general elections. And they lose.
I think it's fair to say that the GOP lost most of the key races of the 2022 midterms, rather than Democrats winning them. Swing state Republican parties chose candidates who adhered so closely to a brand so toxic that independents still chose the Democrats, even in some cases where they were dissatisfied with the party. Republicans who have managed to establish a brand for themselves -- DeSantis, Kemp, and DeWine among them -- soar, while the Trumpiest candidates fall flat. McConnell remains in the minority, and McCarthy becomes the head of a very, very dysfunctional family.
Will Brandon's Rebrand Stand?
So, coming off an unusually strong midterm, where does the party go in 2024? Probably, as u/Randomuser1520 said, back to Biden. When your party wins one of the most fiercely contested elections in American history, has a productive legislative session, and then massively overperforms in the midterm, you don't usually change horses regardless of what approval polling says. If Biden were just 10 years younger and the health concerns were off the table, there would be no question in anyone's mind who to nominate.
The establishment and progressive wings of the party seem to be behind him if he runs, meaning challenges will only come from real outsiders like Marianne Williamson and Robert Kennedy Jr. The DNC will probably work to make those challenges as unviable as possible.
2024 is tricky to predict. Trump is favored on the Republican side, and as said before, his brand is so toxic that Biden can probably glide to reelection barring any massive economic downturns or serious health problems. I won't get too much into 2024, because it seems pretty clearly on the path to becoming another referendum on the GOP's brand, not the Democrats'. Biden's second term (and the rest of his first term) may be defined as much by implementation of the legislation they passed during the 117th as much as by new legislation, if not more.
So the question becomes this -- where does the party go in 2028? Or, in other words, what will Democrats take away from the Biden presidency, and how will Biden shape the party's brand going forward? Who they choose to lead the party next will tell, and Biden's presidency may already be laying out a blueprint.
In his 1996 State of the Union address, Bill Clinton declared 'the era of big government is over,' essentially conceding that Reagan and his vision of a small role for the federal government in domestic affairs had won out for the time, and that Democrats would need to work within that political reality in order to win elections. Obama's efforts to change that status quo resulted in an avalanche of backlash from Tea Partiers, self-proclaimed champions of fiscal conservatism. Hillary Clinton's failed campaign strategy arguably rested more on that understanding of the political climate than anything else, causing her to miss a series of growing frustrations with Reaganism at times channelled by Sanders and, at times, Trump -- at decimation of the manufacturing sector, at the growing gap between rich and poor, at China's seemingly unstoppable three-decade rise at the expense of the U.S.
Biden's approach to American industry and government is a strong repudiation of Reaganism, based around the idea that it is the government's job to fortify and guide the economy in ways that are necessary where the free market has little incentive to. It argues that the issues of infrastructural decay, manufacturing decline, and the growing need for green energy in the face of climate change will only be solved if the government directs the power of the private sector towards those goals at great upfront cost. And free trade, long held as the unassailable source of America's prosperity, must now only be employed in moderation -- if the U.S. has to arguably break international law to lure foreign investment into the U.S. through generous subsidies, it will be worth it, even if it earns the fury of our economic partners. This may be the groundwork of Bidenism.
These plans may fail. The money may be wasted by incompetent or corrupt administrators and the American people may become even more jaded at the thought of big government. But movement within the GOP may suggest a broader shift in the American mind towards this kind of economic interventionism is already in progress. Promising to reverse the decline of manufacturing through tariffs and other measures would have been political anathema twenty years ago, but it has become a core Republican plank. Florida Republicans' punitive measures towards Disney and the GOP's growing support for government action against Big Tech companies suggests openness towards not just using state power to guide the economy, but also to reshape the social landscape by manipulating the private sector. It may well be that the era of small government is over.
I've sorted some potential 'brands' and some of the people who might be nominated in 2028 / become party standard-bearers should the Democrats go in that direction. These lists aren't exhaustive; I'm just trying to establish a general vibe.
The 'Biden Blueprint': Kamala Harris, Pete Buttigieg, Gina Raimondo
These are members of the Biden admin who have been given great power (and great piles of money) to enact the legislation of the 117th. If American sentiment towards big government changes as quickly as I think it could, a Cabinet secretary could have a decent shot in 2028. Harris would be the natural successor as the VP, but Transportation Sec Buttigieg and Commerce Sec Raimondo, who were empowered to implement much of the Infrastructure Act and the CHIPS Act respectively, could become standard-bearers for this new vision of technocratic governance if they administer these programs well (and in a way that makes headlines). If Energy Sec Granholm were a natural-born citizen, she would definitely fit here as well, considering how much power the IRA gave her department.
The 'New New Deal': Amy Klobuchar, Catherine Cortez Masto, Mark Kelly, Tammy Duckworth, Raphael Warnock
Liberal senators who are capable of working across the aisle to achieve compromise could be a strong bet if Democrats want to recreate the success of the 117th Congress in the future. There's always an argument that effective legislators won't necessarily make for effective executives, but these choices would help with Democrats' goal of rebranding the Democratic party as the party you vote for if you want Washington to function properly and anticipate constituents' needs. Such a ticket could brand itself as the path to bipartisan yet assertive solutions on familiar and emerging issues like immigration reform, federal protection for abortion, the housing shortage, and the drug crisis.
The 'Bulwark': Roy Cooper, Laura Kelly, Andy Beshear
I'll admit that when I began writing this post, I had a more favorable opinion of the above three governors and politicians like them as presidential nominees and the potential 'future of the party.' I no longer feel as strongly about them, however, because I don't believe they do enough to change the brand of the Democrats and the political environment as a whole. These governors are best known for winning races in red states; for holding the line against the most conservative policies while finding areas of compromise, especially on kitchen-table issues.
But this brand of Democrat is fundamentally reactive, even defensive -- it assumes that most of the job will be obstructing right-wing legislation from a red legislature. In other words, it is a kind of strategy you use when you're trying to hold ground, not gain it. It works well when your opponent's brand is toxic (as the GOP's has been since 2016), but this I suspect this brand of 'competent normality' will struggle if the opposition ceases to actively repel voters. If Trump and his acolytes continue to hold a strong grip on the party through 2024 and beyond, this brand may not be a bad bet short-term, but long-term Democrats want to be the ones establishing the rules of the game, not just beating your opponent at theirs. That's what a successful political brand does. While Dems in similar situation should definitely look to these governors for guidance in running their campaigns (and hopefully, their administrations), I would caution at this point against basing the national party's brand on their model.
I think somewhere between these three groups lies a successful path forward for the Democrats that towards becoming the dominant party in U.S. politics at the federal level. There are some other interesting currents in the party; like how Democratic governors like Whitmer, Evers, and Walz have rebuilt D strength the Midwest after a rough 2010s, and how Western Dems like Jared Polis, Mary Peltola, and Marie Gluesenkamp Perez have found unexpected electoral stength by embracing a form of libertarianism. However, these currents may be regional, and Democrats shouldn't necessarily try to nationalize every idea that works in one part of the country. Creating different regional 'flavors' of Democrat would be necessary to keep the party relevant in all parts of the country.
Regarding the 2020 primary runners-up, I don't think most of the visions laid out then work post-2024, and for this reason I tend not to give too much weight to current Democratic primary polling, because it assumes these same people would be running again.
Assuming Biden ends his term without catastrophe, I don't think the party needs to place all their faith in a young, charismatic Obama wannabe like O'Rourke or Swalwell, nor does it need to drastically pivot to the center, nor does it need to proclaim itself the party of 'outsiders,' nor does it need to give the reins to the progressive wing. If everything goes right, they can remain ideologically where they are now (roughly) and establish a solid brand for the first time in a generation.
The Democrats been losing the branding war since the days of Nixon. They may currently have all the tools they need right now to change that, and set the expectations for the next fifty years of politics. Let's see how they do.
This is my first big write-up, so I almost certainly missed some stuff and made some assumptions. Let me know what you think.

I’m talking about electrolytes. I ended up in the hospital because of it. I love IF and I’ll never stop doing it, but this is something I’ve been thinking about.
How many times have to met someone or seen someone on Reddit say they’ve tried IF but felt dizzy, weak, tired, and shaky so they had to stop and it “didn’t work for them”?
Then you have guys like Thomas Delauer who make videos titled “does salt/electrolytes break a fast?”
Like it’s some sort of option to take electrolytes… It needs to be said right off the bat that not only should you take electrolytes, it’s absolutely vital. Every influencer who recommends it needs to mention electrolytes or they are doing everyone a very dangerous disservice.
I learned the hard way. I only drank water and black coffee while intermittent fasting for an entire month and I just dealt with the weakness, tingling, and dizziness because all of these influencers told me to just drink water and black coffee.
Little did I know I was pretty low in potassium despite a clean diet with a lot of potassium. I was taken away in an ambulance tingly all over, heart palpitations, and just a complete mess. The tests came back very low potassium and other electrolytes.
Once I started looking into it and researching more I realized how vital it is to take electrolytes. Especially while fasting.
I’ve now been intermittent fasting for 6 months. I’ve lost a lot of weight, built muscle, and my energy levels are unbelievable. Not to mention my testosterone and libido is very high.
Buy electrolyte powders, or make your own. I drink a mixture of Salt, Potassium, Magnesium, and Calcium daily in the morning during my fasted window, and more in the evening after physical activity. I’ve never felt better in my life.

Advised to repost my resin coating repair of a Northstar canoe. Apologies to those that have already read it…
https://imgur.com/a/KVv3EJ5
I bought a Northstar Northwind 17 from Rockwood at the end of the season last year and just finished with my resin coat.
I needed a fresh coat of resin to seal up the bottom. If you are coating a Northstar Canoe, you need to buy your resin directly from Northstar as they use a proprietary mix for their canoes. Don’t use the West System. It won’t work as well. Northstar will send it out the day you order it and you will get it within 48 hours.
With the canoe upside down on sawhorses, start by taking blue painters tape and creating a “football” shape on the bottom of the canoe. I’m talking maybe 3 inches down from the overturned canoe from the bow and stern and it should come around to just above the water line on the side of the canoe at its widest point. Northstar recommends 150 grit sandpaper on an orbital sander but I advise that you need to work up to at least 220 and I went to 320 grit for a smoother finish. Wipe off with an old towel in between sanding coats to see where you missed and get everything nice and even. When you get done with 320 grit you will wipe down the whole thing and then clean it with acetone so it’s ready for the resin.
You mix the resin and MEKP hardener (which you can buy at Home Depot in a tiny clear tube near the Gorilla glue in that aisle) at a 50:1 ratio. For canoes larger than the Northstar Northwind 17, you should buy the $85 two-pint bottom refinishing kit from Northstar. This ends up being 2 teaspoons per pint of hardener to resin. Here’s where you have to move fast because once you stir the two pints resin and the four teaspoons hardener all together you’ve got about 15 minutes total on a warm day in the shade to get it done. Use gloves, eyewear, and a soluble filtered 3M painters mask if you have it!! I used a regular 3M mask and got high as a kite. No bueno. Use a better mask than me.
Pour the resin directly on the center line of the canoe from your mix container and start rolling and get everything covered because that stuff starts turning into Jell-O in the mix container after 15 minutes. I covered the bottom of my Northwind 17 and I still had over half of a pint left. Don’t try and get cute and pour any extra resin on at the last minute to use it up because it will start to gum up and you will look to the sky and scream, most likely cursing your ancestors for helping you make that poor decision. Be smart.
Make sure you take off the blue painters tape right after you get done coating the bottom so you don’t leave a line. When you remove the tape it tends to blend the line away and it will be almost unnoticeable. If you can, once you’re done you need to move your canoe into the sunlight and that sucker will cure in about six hours. I would do it basically at about 9 AM that way you’ll have all day in the sun to cure. My results were fabulous.
I just purchased a 1999 Bell Magic from a BWCA.com member in the BlackGold layup and it has a bunch of scratches on the bottom from the 24 years it’s been used but because it is carbon fiber on the outside and has a gel coat, I’m not going re-coat that. It’s handled the scratches really well. But the Kevlar (especially if the canoe is showing fabric) needs the extra love and protection.
PS) Burn your rags in an old coffee can when you are done. Do not throw them in the trash. They can catch on fire spontaneously.

It’s the little things of that sort that made life on Earth…life. I swear, if I weren’t keeping my journal of observations, I would completely forget that I was still enrolled in a doctoral program gaining what might potentially be one of the most important degrees in the galaxy.
I’d very much… what the humans say ‘gone native’. Which is the whole point of studying like this, to immerse yourself in a people and learn to appreciate their ways on their terms.
I just never expected when I began that it would be… something more, something so much more, to me or to so many others. But now here I was… and before I go into the days after Michael’s return, I hope you’ll forgive me for a little self indulgence… trust me, it will make the near future far clearer.
By this point, even though I’d only been on Earth for about ten percent of my intended time, by now my degree was going to be a given. I could have returned to University now, with just the work I’d done thus far, presented my findings, and gotten my degree to become ‘Doctor Bailey Walker’ and been done with it… if the rules allowed for that kind of thing.
Because I’d gotten into the various…shenanigans, that I did, because I’d been so heavily involved in so many important events in one way or another from the day of the battle of Waterland Park…as it was so ridiculously and melodramatically called to this day, (much to both my and Fauve’s annoyance), all the way up to the present, I was in a unique position.
I had ties to the highest levels of both governments through two ambassadors, and ties to the leaders of commerce and industry thanks to controlling one of the largest gambling and sporting enterprises on the planet…both of which by dint of my ties to xenomedia expansion in the Barnum Cooperative, meant I was building ties to other planetary governments.
In short… If I didn’t know the right person, I probably lived with one who did. William’s control over my space station project and the display of human engineering was drawing attention from potential allied worlds, while the Methuselah Initiative his wife was a leading researcher for was drawing global attention as the first gentle strides proceeded.
Incidentally… My big sister was on excellent terms with Rebecca Walker and had put her in touch with the D.S.A. the Dlamias Science Academy, where our finest genetic researchers worked… given that Bau was nominally a fugitive, I can only imagine she did this surreptitiously. But once the chain was forged, further cooperation was inevitable.
My people seem to be unable to help ourselves when it comes to humans, if we’re not man’s best friend five years from now, I’ll eat my hat. And if I do not have a hat, first I will buy one, then I will eat it.
All that is to say in long form that, out of all the students on Earth, and out of all the Dlamisa who were now visiting or residing on Earth, out of all the other aliens who were expressing interest in the rising power…I had stumbled my way into being the best known, best positioned, the absolute wealthiest, and the most intimately connected with all the right people.
So… with all that out of the way, let me continue.
Weeks came and weeks went, and I? I enjoyed them. William and Rebecca returned from their work, the Methuselah Initiative continued to progress and the space station continued to expand while the first vessels were built.
Fauve returned from her trip to Japan and we were up late enjoying coffee while the rest of the house slept.
I’d been apart from my human for longer than usual, but we slipped back into our routine without missing a beat.
It was rich, strong stuff that we drank, something she brought with her from her trip. The light was dim and the house was silent save for the little sizzle of coffee dripping down for our inevitable refills. We still had a relatively modest, ‘middle class’ home. Strange for me to say it that way, since I was saying ‘we’. But they were family, now, and it felt right even if legally I owned none of it.
Some have remarked that it was strange that Fauve still hadn’t moved out, when it was not uncommon for humans to leave their homes as they enter adulthood. But the reality is simple, departure is typically undertaken because of stress, a clash between the adult parent and the adult child and the former wanting to continue to rule the latter, while the latter wants to do things their own way.
But that contesting dynamic did not exist between the Walkers. William and Rebecca didn’t press their daughter to let them control anything, they would offer advice, and she did pay a little ‘rent’ to contribute to household expenses. A nominal sum that was more a symbol of independence than anything else. But she otherwise controlled everything about her own life. As they loved and cared for one another and considered their family to be a singular unit, a ‘team’ such as it were, they saw no need to separate themselves.
I like to think she also didn’t want to move since she’d miss me and I was more or less obligated to maintain a single residence for the next fifty years… but that’s just speculation on my part.
Regardless, here she was and so was I, and we could enjoy the comfort of one another’s presence. We simply sipped our first cups, and savored the moment. And for the first half of the cup, we were silent, just enjoying each moment in our amiable existence.
That was our custom, to just enjoy presence for a little while, it was a chance to gather our thoughts and consider what, if anything, there was to say.
Sometimes there wasn’t, we’d just sit in quiet company until our cups were empty, content that nothing need be said and mutual presence was enough.
It’s funny how much humans can say while saying nothing at all. In a very real way, they may be the most competent communicators in the galaxy.
But… tonight would not be a silent night.
When the coffee maker clicked off on the dim light of the kitchen, Fauve chose to speak. “So I got an offer for a diplomatic job.” She said it as if she were mentioning it might rain… this human of mine is the most unflappable person I’ve ever met…I swear.
My tail started to wag and I took a quick sip before saying, “Tell me about it.” She launched into a full story of touring Japan, first, which was to be expected, and I thoroughly enjoyed the recounting before she got to the part I asked about.
“You know how I’ve been handling all these media deals… and… remember how we spent that year on The Red Spark, during the Silent Civil War?” She asked.
I looked down my snout at her. “Tell me that’s rhetorical.”
She cracked a smile, “Well, one of the guys I used to eat lunch with was appointed to the Department of Interplanetary Relations. He was in New Kyoto for a conference on Interplanetary Tech… forget that, it’s boring,” she waved a dismissive hand and went on, “Anyway we were at the same hotel on the day I closed a deal for distributing your league broadcasts…” she paused and tilted her head, “Did you know that the Leonids have a reputation for stubbornness?” She asked.
I nodded. “Worse than ours.” I agreed, and it was no exaggeration. On Dlamias we said that you could convince a mountain to move before you could convince a Leonid to do so.
“They’re not so bad, I just had to keep reframing things until I found what worked, but we got a deal. So I told Marcus about it, and he said he needed someone like me on his team.” She should have smiled, but she didn’t.
“What?” I asked.
“Bailey, listen…”. Fauve’s voice became grave, “Marcus had a few more than he meant to and he let something slip… the Praeda species are a lot more afraid than anyone thinks. If what he told me is true, media relations will be the least of my concerns… a real war is a very clear possibility.”
“Shouldn’t you have led with that?” It was a stupid thing to ask, but still…
She sat up straight, “It wouldn’t be more or less likely, based on where I put it in conversation, and this way you heard good things first. if I waited, you wouldn’t be able to enjoy those properly.”
It was as absurd as it was practical.
“So then the job is…?” I prompted.
“There’s going to be an attempt at diplomacy first. The Rogue World is a long way off, and everybody is going to start gearing up for war, but in that span of time we have a shot at deescalation.” She looked at me for a very long moment.
“I’ll talk to my world’s ambassador. He won’t be happy that word slipped out, even to a reliable resource. Maybe we can create a joint envoy?” It was a tentative thought. More likely it would set the Rapax class species on edge if it looked like we were negotiating a separate peace…
I could see the wheels spinning in her mind when she said… “Maybe suggest we think bigger… anyone left out might feel like a target.”
She wasn’t wrong. “I’ll reach out to him in the morning. In the meantime… one more cup?” I asked.
She handed me hers as I stood, “Yes, please.”

Detailing all the little things of the next few weeks would tell you that, all things considered, my life was a rich one, but it would not offer great insight…at least not in things I hadn’t already conveyed in previous observations and experiences, save for one exception, which I will relay next, but after that, the next few weeks of journal entries were labeled as ‘scraps’. I couldn’t bring myself to dispose of them, so in the nonacademic work, ‘The Scraps of My Life’ they can still be found. They however, are not included here, as they detail the more ‘ordinary’ things that were pleasant and charming, but in areas where I had already reached conclusive observations.
This was ‘Michael’s Return’. Before I explain what this entailed, it must be understood that since the end of the Silent Civil war, a lot of things changed, a few years were come and gone, Fauve was no longer under constant guard, and though she would never have a normal life without ‘some’ security…
Humans are flexible, and she’d gotten used to having a security team around within some proximity to her. Unsurprisingly, her relationships with others of a more adult nature were now only with those who also had to deal with having considerable security concerns. The daughter of an admiral, the son of a lawmaker… she seemed in a hurry for a permanent bond, but it was clear that she’d taken a lesson from her time with Halbert.
People who cannot understand your life or your pressures, whatever their character, will never be a good fit. This in the end, is why I have concluded that nepotism becomes the dominant method of governing, over and over again even in their far more egalitarian present.
I wish I could have had more time with my human, of course, but… we do still have coffee at night together sometimes even when she’s traveling. When it comes to humans, you can be together, even when you’re apart, as long as you make the time for it and have a proper network connection.
But I digress. What this departure and shift in her security meant was that Byron and Boatswain were now fixated solely on the security of the Walker house, meaning that their residence was always monitored, but the people themselves were not, unless the trip took someone away for an extended period of time.
Which in Michael’s case meant going to Fort Knox for classes taught by the ‘JSFT’ or the ‘Joint Special Forces Team’.
The brainchild of the human and dlamisa soldiers, a request signed off on by both units through to both chains of command fell on the same day on the desks of both commanding Generals, that the two teams be based together and undergo a series of joint exercises with an eye toward, and I quote, ‘The mutual security of vital trade lanes currently under consideration’.
That was quite a ways away, but I knew the truth. Probably most people involved did. It was an excuse… the humans didn’t want the dlamisa to go, and the dlamisa didn’t want to leave ‘their humans’.
I think we can probably credit Bonny Red for some influence here, as her ‘mass resignation’ remained a blight that would never be washed off, and she probably warned Gaozu that if he tried to force them to leave…they’d quit.
So, conveniently enough, a joint unit was created on an Earth military base that was now part of the community… and which taught children various forms of martial arts.
Since Genghis wasn’t going anywhere, he and Iskandar became part time instructors, and Michael continued to burn off his superabundance of energy in their training hall.
Notably though… despite being what amounted to a ‘star pupil’ to some of the most dangerous people I’d ever met, he still lost.
And yes, I said ‘lost’. He placed second, which means he didn’t actually ‘win’. I have to analyze my own mindset here before relaying the events… my thinking is very ‘Dlamisan’. In my culture, on my homeworld, your only real value is in excellence at your field, your identity is tied to your triumphs and the degree to which knowing you is helpful, dictates your wider influence on others, which means you have ‘currency’ when it comes to asking for or doing favors for others.
To be the expert on humans, the one to rise to the heights of my people’s renown would not only ensure my immortality in our histories, but also would have provided me with broad access to creature comforts and quality of life unrivaled by those mired in mediocrity. To put it another way, if you have to be an apple in a barrel, do you want to be at the top, or at the bottom?
To be the second best at anything was to be ‘lesser’ than someone else.
Or so that had been my thinking… not that many years ago, really. It’s hard to believe, but even having left that behind, it still lingered in the back of my head as some great misfortune that he wasn’t the ‘very top’ and the best of all the others.
Now that my thinking and my inherent bias is out of the way… I turn to his arrival.
I was coming up the stairs to get coffee when Michael burst through the door shouting, “Mom! Dad! I won second place!”
Here is the first distinction. He considered ‘second’ to be a victory. He was thrilled, running into the house and waving a silver trophy around, it was shaped like a closed fist pointed skyward, nice work, really.
“They haven’t gotten back yet!” I shouted from the kitchen as Byron and Boatswain entered after him.
As I worked the old fashioned coffee maker, he followed my voice. “I won second! I won second!” He shouted again as if I hadn’t heard him the first time.
Human young are very loud, especially, I’ve noticed, their young males.
And the happier they are, the louder they tend to be. He rushed into the kitchen and I just barely had time to set my favorite coffee mug down on the countertop before he barrelled into me and squeezed me in a hug. Affection in young humans is heavily focused on interpersonal contact, even more so than that between more mature adults. They actively seek out that contact often, as it helps their brains form more neural connections and improves their overall cognitive function.
Some humans have said, ‘Love makes you stupid’ and…admittedly I’ve seen people make some bizarre decisions over affection. But the general truth is that this ‘love’ emotion in humans actually assists the development of their emotional intelligence that makes them function far more effectively in a social environment.
It doesn’t mean they’ll be better at learning calculus, but it does mean that they’ll be better able to understand how to ask for or offer help when they need assistance in learning it. In short, it’s the foundation of their social reasoning skills.
I returned his gesture and said, “Excellent work!” He squeezed again, he was getting bigger, faster, growing at an impressive rate and was rapidly building the muscle that would one day make him a particularly capable and, with training, dangerous adult human male.
I had to restrain myself from saying, ‘Maybe next time you’ll win first.’
And that was hard to do. This is what people coming to Earth and settling here struggle most with… as human ‘therapists’ began trying to help…albeit somewhat clumsily given the differences in our species, we did encounter one common thing.
Breaking patterns of thought, refraining from saying what was once second nature, is very difficult.
Instead I said, “You did great.” I then looked past him to see Byron and Boatswain walk into the house, it was very different from the old days, when they would have swept the grounds first… but with so many dead that might have once been a threat… they’d earned something closer to a familial existence.
“That he did.” Boatswain agreed, “He’d have taken first too, if not for a bit of bad luck.”
“Meh, it’s not a matter of whether you win or lose, it’s what you learn from either.” Byron offered his pragmatic advice and sat at the table, “Coffee?” He asked.
“Coming up.” I said, and when Boatswain gave me a look, I got two more cups out. “Next time I’ll win first… but second is a good start!” Michael emphasized with determination in his voice.
My conclusion from this, and from my other observations, is that a focus on opportunity and a praise for progress, together with supportive interpersonal contact and a sense of safety and security at home, is the leading indicator of future confidence and success in growing humans.
In short, in my own view, right then…
I was watching a boy prepare to one day become a very great man, and one whom I would take great pride in.
“Can I try some coffee too?” Michael asked, and I furrowed my brow, he was a little young for it but… “I’ll pour some milk, and add a little coffee to it, let’s just start with that, and you can tell me how it all went.” I suggested, and got out another cup to share at the table, which he promptly sat down at, an unspoken agreement to tell me absolutely everything I missed.

Hello, I’ve dug through tons of resources and I’m at a loss. Hoping someone here can help.
I bought a home with an Electrolux EI23BC30KS3 model refrigerator. The ice maker was not working when we moved in and I have been trying to fix it. Here’s what I’ve tried so far:

• Engage bar in ice maker
• Run “fast ice” setting
• Replace water filter (no water dispenser just ice)
• Check water flow into fridge (good flow, pressure)
• Blow lines to check for blockage (good flow through filter lines and line to ice maker)
• Reset fridge to factory settings
• Replaced solenoid valve assembly (let fridge run overnight, still no water to ice maker)
• Verified freezer door switch was working (lights turn on and off when pushed)
• Manually filled ice maker (cubes froze, not dispensed)

At this point I’m thinking it has to be an electrical issue as the solenoids do not appear to be engaging, nor does the ice maker ejector. Any other thoughts? Last ditch effort before I call someone… any and all help appreciated!
Edit: The fridge holds temperature in the fridge and freezers just fine!

47, no kids, no medications and possibly in perimenopause.
I went to a Urogyno / Physio this week for urinary incontinence issues I’ve had for the last year and my urine sample came back with blood in it. She didn't specify if it was visible or trace but I did notice on that particular day, my urine was darker than other days (usually happens when I drink too much coffee, not enough water).
Since the onset of incontinence (about a year ago) I’ve had bloods, a UTI test, urine test and kidney & bladder scan over and all came back normal so this was unexpected. My period ended 4 days before the consult so unlikely that had anything to do with it. B/c all other tests were fine, signs of incontinence were pointing to hormones / vaginal atrophy and I was going to start pelvic floor PT (e.g. kegels).
But now waiting to speak to my GP about the lab results of the urine sample and trying not to panic in the meantime (Urogyno said it’s likely an infection) but naturally I’m concerned.
Anyone else here with urinary incontinence experience blood in urine and it end up not being a big deal? (I already know all the worst case scenarios / diseases that can cause it, so please don't remind me about those! lol!).

I’ve daily used a Breville Barista Touch since 2018 with good results, but slowly grown tired of being a barista every morning. I love coffee, but I’m ready to push the button and have my drink. Yesterday I picked up a Jura E6 and excitedly made my first few drinks. I have to say the drinks were very underwhelming. I noticed right off the bat the espresso to water ratio by default is completely wrong and also the grind was set too coarse. After a little tinkering, it’s better but not great. The Americano setting produces a scalding hot, weak drink. The regular double espresso seems very one dimensional and somewhat bitter. I’m using Illy medium roast beans that I opened today. Is it my current settings? Are illy beans a bad fit for this machine? Hoping someone with more experience could maybe point me in the right direction. I guess I was hoping for hassle free good coffee at the E6 price point.
Thanks I’m advance!