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transhitman · 2 years

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Very late on this but I did art for the Wirral segment of my fic lmfao. I'm actually really fucking pumped about how these turned out. I rendered them basically from scratch (color picked in some spots though) and it took WAY TOO LONG for what is ostensibly a joke scene. More about the characters under the cut because YES I did actually put thought into what they would play as.

Though I based the fourth portrait on Judit's, the character is actually her husband's. Judit is the GM and hosts the games at her place.

OCTAVIA KVASS -- Harry’s character of course is an OBVIOUS self-insert – a dweogr glamor bard. He actually didn’t know about the horny bard trope and just wanted to play as a musician. Then he found out you could seduce people and pogged harder than anyone has ever pogged. I also made her a woman so I could push my He/They Du Bois agenda in my fic. (I KNOW AND PERCEIVE THE TRUTH.) Harry playing as himself but a hot lady because he thinks it would be funny: "Hmmm I sure hope this doesn't awaken anything in me."

DRAUGUS INFERNITUM -- I called Kim a necromancer in my fic, but he's actually a grave cleric, or whatever the Wirral equivalent is. Draugus is a verrry subtle self-insert, as I think the ability to protect people and prevent death is sort of a wish-fulfillment thing for Kim lol. With no conceptualization skill, Kim doesn’t really like RP (he sucks at it), but he’s very good at resource management and combat (hence why he's a cleric), and probably enjoys writing lore and backstory stuff. (He and Judit bond over nerd shit lol.)

MAX MUSTERMANN -- Jean didn’t give a shit about his character, so everyone just pictures Max as normal Jean with a stupid hat. He’s a rogue, but a more str-based subclass I think, whatever that might be. (Scout? Swashbuckler?) I also think Jean eventually just loses interest in the game and stops playing, and Judit takes Max over as a DMPC. She cares more about him than Jean did and everyone ends up liking the bizzaro Jean she plays more than the real-life Jean lmfao.

JACQUES BUCHER -- I have Many Thoughts about Judit and her husband and what their relationship is like, but I'll summarize it quick. I interpreted her singular line about him as more of a lighthearted jab and less of a genuine complaint, and I think he's like a Spencer Shay type guy. Eccentric artist that can't hold down a job lol. Goofy and incompetent in a charming way, because he's at least trying. And he's also the only person among the players with the creative chops to actually make a real OC and not a self-insert. I made Mr. Minot's character a fairly normal fighter for the sake of party-balance. Although it would be very funny if he was a fucked up eldritch knight or psi warrior type class. Secretly the most insane person at the table. (And NO this is not a case of competent wife/dork ass loser husband. For you see, Judit is also a dork ass loser. (Wirral Fan) (Cop) (Willingly Spends Time With Harry Du Bois))

#disco elysium #harry du bois #kim kitsuragi #judit minot #jean viquemare #art

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beeslibrarycorner · 2 years

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Lost time

Peter Ballard x Reader

Word count: 401

Warnings: smut

Plot: you told peter you haven't had good experiences with a certain act.

Smut promt 4 with Peter from stranger things plz

Also congrats

“Let me get a taste”

(Minots Do Not Engage)

Peter had you up against the bedroom wall, he was on his knees and you were in just one of his t-shirts. “Let me get a taste” he said to you looking up at you through his lashes, you felt your face heat up and your fingers twitch. This all started when you and him had a conversation about how you never got good head while working in the lab.

“No one had experience and everyone was worried about their own pleasure” you said before taking a sip of coffee. “Both men and women?” Peter was interested in the stories you told. You smiled at his excitement as you took another sip, nodding. “Yeah, people wanted to feel good for themselves and whenever I asked I would just get a token lick.” You explained.

That conversation led you to now, with Peter pressing his big hands into your hips pinning them to the wall. His head slowly gravitated towards your clit and when he made contact you threw your head back. His tongue swept over your leaking entrance before going back to your clit.

You started to thrust against his face and he held you down against the wall. He started to bob his head against your clit and pushed two fingers from his free hand into your drooling opening. You threw your head back again and started to moan when he found that spongy spot inside of you.

You came unexpectedly, hands shooting out to grab at his hair and grind against his face. It felt euphoric, like cold water on a hot summer day. When you came down from the high you were panting, running a hand through your hair. He looked at you while he put his fingers into his mouth, sucking them clean.

What a sight to see as he hummed from enjoyment. When he got up he gently grabbed your hand and guided you to the bed. “What are you doing?” you asked as he sat you down and took his pants off. “I'm making up for all the pleasure you miss out on” he said as he kissed your face.

Making up for lost time was one thing but when the next morning came around you could barely walk from all the activity from the day prior. It's a good thing Peter wasn't scheduled to go into work, now he could take care of you!

#peter ballard x reader #001 x reader #stranger things season four

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theramblinghockeydude · 9 months

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Quiet Spots

I believe it is vital in life to have a quiet spot that you can to when things get a bit hectic and you need a recharge of the batteries to get through the day to day. I have always had my quiet spots from a very early age in life and so right now I am a bit thrown off because I am not able to get out and find a new quiet spot.

Growing up whenever I wanted to get away a bit or just be alone with my thoughts I'd trek to the coulee (back pasture) behind our house and wander around. A couple of favorite spots were the far, I believe South, corner at the far edge of the field where the beavers would build their dam and do their work. You could cross the creek and sit up on the hillside under the trees and just kind of take it all in. It was peaceful. My other spot was the hill next to the creek where it had eroded away and I could sit and look for rocks for hours. There was something about sitting on that hillside getting lost in the rocks that was soothing. I think it was being able to simply shut the brain off and focus on one thing only...cool rocks. Once I got a little older and was driving there was a spot a few hundred feet from our driveway on the road that you could pull into. I would pull in quite a bit when it was dark out and stare at the sky and let everything melt away. When the Northern Lights were out that was a pretty good spot to watch them from. All of these spots had the same things in common, you could hear the sounds of nature whether it be the birds or any other animals, smell the fresh, clean air and for two of the spots at least, you had the sound of the water running through the creek.

When I left for college I was in need of finding a new quiet spot. I tried the library, but that didn't work, it was a different kind of quiet. I eventually found a spot behind the Johnstone/Fulton/Smith dorm compound. A nice little spot where you could sit on the bench, it had flowers and I am not remembering now if there was a fountain or not, but I do remember going there quite often to sit and just let the stress of the day roll off of me. Mind you, the English Coulee didn't always smell the best, and with the Simplot plant close to campus and the Sugar Beet plant in Minnesota not far away, the smells weren't always the best, but there was something calming about that place, especially in the evening hours.

Once I was out of college and back in Minot I found that any place outside of the city where I could sit and watch a sunrise or sunset would do the trick. Had to be far enough out where it was a bit secluded, but back then that wasn't hard to find like it is now. There were times after work when I would drive out to the Lake Audubon Wildlife Refuge and do the scenic loop there. There were a couple of cool spots on the drive where you could pull over a bit and sit and watch the ducks do their thing. Very peaceful and calming.

I eventually found my favorite quiet spot that I have ever had, the Lake Darling Scenic Drive. I absolutely loved that place. It was best in the early early morning or late evening. Drive up top, park and watch the sunrise/sunset over the water, that was the best. It was so peaceful, not a sound could be heard other than the wildlife. The calls of the Red Winged Blackbird or the Yellow Headed Blackbird seemed to dominate the area, but the waterfowl there were not going to be outdone either. Early morning was great when you had a bit of fog rolling through. The air just had a fresh smell to it and everything felt and looked brand new. I had the chance to sit out there a few times and watch a storm roll in and hunker down in my vehicle while it did it's thing. Something about thunder, lightning and rain that are very soothing to me. Once the storm passed, you could hear the wildlife come back to life, almost as if they were checking on each other to see if they were alright.

I hope that each of you has a quiet spot that you can go to and recharge and let the stress of life melt away. If you feel like, I would love to hear where your spot is, please feel free to comment either here or on my facebook feed.

#Quiet #Nature #Wildlife #Storms #Sunrise #Sunset

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virtualcarrot · 2 years

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[DE] Wherein the unit gets takeout

"Yo Kit," McLaine yells over the open space, "we're ordering from the new Seolite place down the street. What's your poison?"

Kim pointedly does not freeze, and slides his desk drawer closed like the words didn't kick a storm of conflicting emotions inside of him.

"Ah, I don't have a preference, officer," he says mildly, and makes busy with the files left on his desk. There aren't many; he's a tidy person. Presently a curse.

He does have a preference, though. It'd be hard not to. A Vacholiere of forty-four such a him has had more than a few opportunities to try a wide variety of restaurants. And Revachol isn't a stranger to foreign foods--though who are they foreign to, really? A city of immigrants, Revachol is home to many able to lay a claim of familiarity to the purportedly unconventional.

There have been cassava fritters, handouts from an old man near his childhood district that used to take pity on his scrawny teens. Crab cakes from a classmate, shared in spontaneous and welcome goodwill. Tapioca burritos, wet with sweet condensed milk, a gesture of appeasement from an overwhelmed grandmother when Kim was working in Juvie. Later, pita bread and doner kebabs would often make office of meals to the Kimball. And, in-between, late night noodle broths on too tall bar stools; skewers of fried tofu from street vendors around the corner; Dai's dumplings, painstakingly handmade in Kim's kitchen, his grin unabashed before Kim's misshaped results...

"Kim," calls a voice over his right shoulder.

It's Harry. He's holding a plastic bag up for Kim to see, head angled towards the office tables pressed together in the middle of the room. McLaine appears busy arguing with Torson over the ownership of the food they've already unloaded.

"Ah, yes. Thank you."

Turns out, Harry took care of ordering for him. Kim's handed stir fried rice with chicken and cashew nuts. It's satisfyingly spiced, the sort of kick Kim takes smug satisfaction in enjoying. He almost denied himself, at some point, out of sheer spite--

"Shit, I don't know how you can bear the heat. Fucking Seolites, man," Rémi marveled with a laugh.

--but in the end, he keeps indulging.

Harry doesn't say any of the sort. Truthfully, it wasn't like he was able to say much of anything at all, the first time he stole some of Kim's food. Face still blotched, looking up at Kim with wonder in his eyes, all his effort went into choking out the usual question.

"How are you so cool?"

Kim takes his rice and stabs a fork in it. Heidelstam falters from where he's snapping his own chopsticks free, and visibly refrains from commenting on it.

"The fuck are you doing," Dai asked, horrified laughter tight in his throat.

"...Eating?"

"I mean, you can try? But why would you eat rice with a fork? Dolores, but I've got so much to teach you."

"How do you find your meal, Lieutenant?" Minot asks him, a companionable smile on her face. There's a spot of sauce near her chin from where a recalcitrant noodle decided to fight back.

Across the table, Torson pulls himself straighter. For some reason, the Sargent often seems eager for his opinion. "Yes, does it get your seal of approval?"

The rice is fat and sticky; the cashews crunch pleasantly under Kim's teeth. Kim takes time to chew and blinks slowly before he speaks.

"It's good, Sargent" he says mildly. "Do you want some?"

McLaine snorts. "Don't encourage him or you'll have nothing left to eat."

The partners bicker. Kim goes back to his meal. He doesn't dislike these people, really. It's been months, now; they have a rapport. Minot and him share the very necessary responsibility of being a stabilizing, mild-mannered presence in the unit, as well as a core belief in doing right by Revachol's people. Jean respects him, too, sometimes in an envious, sympathetic sort of way, like he's just waiting for Harry's other shoe to drop and he feels duty-bound to warn Kim of the tripping hazard when that happens. For his part, Torson has decided to project the most incomprehensible hero worship onto him, and McLaine doesn't call him Kimball. He tried. Once.

They now have an understanding.

He will still shorten Kim's name to Kit so long as he feels he's far away enough to escape any swift retaliation.

Truthfully, Kim likes them.

Harry leans over, breath flavored with cilantro, scallions and beef.

"They thought it'd make you happy," he says, tone surprisingly, diplomatically, insightfully neutral.

Kim doesn't reply. He spots dark, chewy mushrooms in Harry's dish before he turns back to his own meal. He doesn't think his attention went unnoticed. Harry has a way of seeing things.

Sure enough, some beats later, fat mushrooms start piling up on the discarded lid of Kim's takeout box.

Harry's using chopsticks. One in each hand.

In return, Kim tilts his container in a silent offer. The bark of laughter that follows is neither unexpected nor unwelcome.

"Ah! Hell no, you won't catch m--" Harry pauses, blinks, briefly lost in one of his whirlwinds of thoughts, then grins, all teeth. Kim wonders if it's the Expression, the one his partner once confessed to having struggled so much to tame. If so, it's not too bad. Disturbingly compelling, actually.

With spiced chicken speared on a chopstick, Harry stands, making a whole performance out of it. That, too, is up for the par. "Alright, baby! let's see how the dies roll today!"

Wherever the dies are, it appears they land poorly. Harry chokes, flushes. He sways under the heavy slaps Torson sees fit to lay on his back. He's laughing himself silly in spite of the pain.

When Heidelstam's glass of water fails to bring any relief, Jean pushes the sugar box from the coffee room right under Harry's nose.

"Fucking shitkid," he says, but he's smiling, a bit. "Eat a cube."

Harry eats five.

Kim eats a mushroom and knows next time Harry orders for him, he'll have more than enough of those to spare.

#disco elysium #racism #internalized racism #Multiculturalism #racial essentialism #my scrawl #I once choked on hot sauce so badly i couldn't breathe anymore #a colleague chose that moment to laugh and go 'i thought [X] people could handle spice'#i had been asking him for weeks to tone down the [X] comments and jokes beforehand #first thing I did when i got my breath back was tear him a new one in front of everybody #fic : disco elysium

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enkisstories · 1 year

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Detroit Disco

I’m in the process of creating the Disco Elysium precint 41 officers as sims to unleash them into my Detroit save. In the meantime have this drabble:

Detective Gavin Reed pressed his phone to his ear, only to move it further out the very next moment. The background noise was worse than ever. It was almost transcending static noise and coalescing into sentences, the echoes of each and every phone calls that had been made in Detroit since the invention of the telegraph.

“You were saying what?” Gavin asked. “Ah, I see. A drunk police lieutenant. Laid waste to his hotel room and threatened to blast his own brain out. Huh, right, that really sounds like ours. I’ll send someone over to pick him up.”

The detective covered the phone’s micro with his hand. “Your partner was found, Connor. I’ll dispatch a patrol android to fetch him.”

Returning to the phone, Gavin asked: “But how in hell did you manage to rile the motherfucker up like that? Wait, he did what? Toss your Great Skua against the wall? Why’d you show him a fucking Great Skua anyway? Hank is phobic of flock birds, of course he’d lose it, man! That’s on you!”

♪♫ So turn ‘round the fire with a glass of strong ale ♪♫ the stereo bawled. ♪♫ And tell us a story from beyond the Pale ♪♫

In Detroit PJ700-302 entered a regular DPD patrol car to drive to Martinaise. She returned with Harrier Du Bois.

In Revachol Judit Minot entered one of Precinct 41’s remaining three Coupris Kineemas to drive to Greektown. She returned with Hank Anderson.

Hank Anderson’s finger moved from one officer to the next.

“Gavin. Tina. David. Check.”

“No! Chester, Judit, Mack!”

“Uh-uh”, Hank shook his head. “That’s not Officer Mack. I’m a bit confused about how many Macks we have and what they all look like, but this man isn’t one of them.”

Three pairs of eyes moved towards the door when it opened. In came Trant Heidlstam, accompanied by Satellite-Officer Jean Vicquemare. A French sounding name, a name that wasn’t out of place in Detroit, similar to “Martinaise”. So why was Hank unable to place that particular neighborhood on his mental map of the city? He couldn’t have spaced out that badly?!

Jean took one look at the stranger, his internal Conceptualization and Visual Reconstruction agreed on the man’s differences to Harrier being neglible and therefore slotted him into the same spot in his mind, regardless of how often the other officers stressed that Hank wasn’t Harry. What the heck, they even started with the same letters!

“Look, I told you I didn’t want to deal with this crap. Clinically depressed and all.”

“Clinically?” That tidbit at least piqued Hank’s interested. “As in: diagnosed? I never had the energy to get diagnosed. Even if I had, what would it have changed… They’ll only ever tell you things aren’t the way you make them and the problem is you.”

Yay, all I need is a change in perspective and Cole is alive again!

“But things ARE the way they are, and so you nod sympathetically, tell the psycho lady her mantra has helped you a lot, go home and uncork another bottle. Not that anybody would fucking care. They only want you to function, like an android.”

There it was again. Androids. This Hank person mentioned them every second sentence, with great disgust, but also with a scarily detailed lore attached to the idea. Where Harry had temporarily forgotten reality in the past, Hank seemed to have filled the holes in his mind with a construct. A construct involving a slave race of artificial people. It was probably a highly sophisticated political commentary. Alas, it was also highly annoying.

“So what are we doing now with Commander Corkscrew?” Chester asked.

“Shut up, Gavin!” Hank snapped. “You’re not helping!”

“I’m not…”

“I said shut your trap! Not just because it’s enervating as hell, but if you are serious about your promotion, you got to act more professional!”

So. There. He had said it. There wasn’t anything wrong with Gavin Reed’s detective work, just a minor tendency to jump to conclusions. Putting effort into improving his work performance might earn Gavin a bit of promotion credit, but the big chunk was to be gained in the categories “Teamwork” and “Character development”, two areas the detective neglected.

“But I don’t care to get promoted!” Chester McLaine protested.

And then he screamed on top of his lungs, when Hank lunged forward, hugged him tightly, kissed him on his forehead and cheered: “That’s the spirit! Our boy is growing up!”

Falling back on what he had mentally filed as a Hank-repellent, Chester whimpered: “A… ndroid? Android!”

“Yes, yes”, Hank promised. “We’ll buy you one after your promotion.”

The promotion Chester McGavin didn’t want, the officers realized. So there was no risk of having to really gift him an android.

“Say, there is a certain logic to this man’s ramblings”, Trant mused. “His brain is working differently, but it is working. I’d say it’s save to put him back into the contest…”

“Case. You mean the murder case, of course”, Jean corrected. He liked where this was going (namely a Hank-free office).

“…and figure out everything else while we’re going”, Trant finished his sentence.

And so it was decided.

“I’m not Disco.”

“Come again?”

“I’m not Disco”, Connor repeated, clearly puzzled and probably also feeling insulted in a profound manner. “This is about the only thing I got out of the stranger. Other than that he isn’t Hank Anderson, I mean.”

Gavin Reed slammed his cup onto the table, causing an elaborate castle Officer Tina Chen had built from potato chips and nachos to crash.

“And why is that so?” the detective challenged Connor. “Why are you unable to make progress with the deviant cases or to find the amnesic weirdo in our database? Because you’re not Disco! See? He told you!”

Gavin triumphantly leaned back in his cafeteria chair. He really had no idea in what way not being “disco” was supposed be a shortcoming. But he wouldn’t have been Gavin Reed, had he not jumped to every opportunity to diminish Connor RK800.

“If only you tried to be more Disco, you’d have the deviant cases solved in no time!” Gavin went on, under the impression that he was driving the knife deeper.

Connor, however, blinked, and stated: “But then I’d replace you even earlier, detective. If I solved the deviant cases, I’d proven that the RK800 detective android is superior to a human one.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up!” Gavin demanded, while swiping the chips into Connor’s direction like artillery fire. Then he kicked his chair back, pounced Connor and rammed him against a column. “Take your racist bullshit out of my police station and don’t forget to grab your new partner on your way out! I don’t want to see either of you again before sunset!”

“My new partner?”

“Well, you lost your previous one. If you don’t want to file a Lost & Found, you better take Detective Mindblank along instead.”

“I don’t think the Lieutanent being missing warrants a Lost & Found, Detective.”

“Don’t want him back? In this case we agree on one thing. Nice!”

“No, I meant that a human missing warrants…”

But Tina and Gavin weren’t listening anymore. Grabbing the android’s right, respectively left, arm, they escorted him into the foyer.

“You have your orders.”

#detroit become human #dbh #disco elysium #dbhtextpost #sims4 dbh gameplay

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daechwitatamic · 2 years

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Okay babe, i'm sending a few questions, let's see what you have to say 😏

what’s your worst writing habit?

where is your favorite place to write?

what is your favorite line you’ve ever written?

what are some books or authors that influenced your style the most?

give us a spoiler for one of your stories.

best piece of feedback you’ve ever gotten.

how do you write emotional scenes? do you ever feel what the characters feel?

what do you do if a scene gets too serious? (i know this answer🤡)

yay thank you for playing!

What's your worst writing habit?

Probably writing when I shouldn't - like at work askjfhajkfhj

Where is your favorite place to write?

I have a spot on my couch and when it's serious writing time I get settled in there with my laptop on my legs instead of on the coffee table.

What is your favorite line you've ever written?

"The thunder above the house sounds like God is speaking a long-forgotten language, syllable after syllable rolling off of His tongue and through the sky, the meaning lost on the likes of man."

This gem will feature in Chapter 15 of WWH.

What are some books or authors that influenced your style the most?

Wow, I love this question! My writing professors in college all had works of their own, so they definitely influenced me since they worked on my writing with me. When I started writing as a teenager, I feel like I was influenced by Picoult and while I wouldn't still say that now, I do think that's why I ended up getting so comfortable writing hyper-realism. I also did a writing study on Susan Minot on college and I really learned a lot about deliberate word choice and crafting from her so I'll throw that in there too.

Give us a spoiler for one of your stories.

lol okay in WWH, there will be a punch thrown before the story ends (:

Best piece of feedback you've ever received?

afhkajsfhjaskfha One of my writing professors in college did once introduce me to a room of incoming students as a "budding novelist" and this is the best compliment I ever got but it also haunts me every time I remember it because....... what novel lmfao

How do you write emotional scenes? Do you ever feel what the characters feel?

I mean, I definitely do. Talk to me after WWH is done and I'll tell you exactly which scenes made me want to lay on the floor. How do I write them? Usually with sad piano music playing and a devious look on my trouble-making little face :)

What do you do if a scene gets too serious?

NO SUCH THING >:)

#tag games #answered #pamzn

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normanboddie224 · 4 months

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How SWAT Teams Work

If you hear "grab some real estate," then you're in bother for a minor infraction. It's time for pushups! This query "Why is the sky blue?" is a sign of pride for the Army. The sky isn't blue due to the scientific cause that most of us know, however it's because of blue is the shade of infantry badges, cords and discs-a proof of God's love for the infantry. USMC euphemism for when a Marine does something, considering they know finest, however the result finally ends up being horrible. Marine Corps, whom Marines should not be like. Within the Army, to make sure you're headed in the best route and are not too far off course, an azimuth examine is a land navigational procedure that a soldier would use. It is also a term which means to verify in and see how effectively a sure task is being accomplished appropriately. For Navy sailors, a whole lot of time is spent out at sea.

Spoiler alert! Take our quiz to see how much you remember about a few of the perfect twist endings in movie historical past! Did we point out there can be spoilers? What is the identify of the enormous rabbit that visits the title character in "Donnie Darko"? After an airplane crash lands into Donnie Darko's bedroom, an enormous rabbit named Frank visits him. Despite testifying for the prosecution in the 1957 movie, Christine actually desires her husband to be discovered innocent. Her testimony is actually simply an elaborate plot to win her husband his freedom. Lewis die at the tip of "The Box"? Someone she does not know pushes the button. She pushes the button. It's an accident. Faced with the choice that someone will die if she pushes a mysterious button, Mrs. Lewis chooses to push the button for 1,000,000 dollars. When "someone she doesn't know" later makes the same alternative, Mrs. Lewis has to die. While it might seem that "The Village" is ready within the nineteenth century, it really takes place in the modern world. Her husband killed her. She was locked in an asylum. Andrew Laeddis, confined to an establishment for murdering his wife, Rachel. The astronauts study that they are actually on Earth after spotting the Statue of Liberty buried in the sand. In the 1997 movie, Nicholas jumps off a roof after taking pictures his brother Conrad. He survives and later learns that the gun he used was loaded with blanks, and no one truly died.

So "The Beach" refers to any place that is not water-land. For those who hit The Beach, it is time to get your land legs again. Someone who has a pair of "golden hands" is a compliment for a pilot. It means they can fly very well. This used to be a extra specific term, where sentries would look out for actual fires. Now it might vary from guarding barracks or having a shift with a machine gun in a war zone. It is the lock field the place sailors can drop off anonymous suggestions. In the Air Force, a goat rope is a screwed-up state of affairs. It's usually the type the place humor error is the principle trigger of the mess. That is used in the Navy, too, however it originated in the Air Force. The Private News Network will not be one thing you may find on Tv (though there is a satire and humor site by the identical identify). It is the soldier gossip or the rumor mill. It goes by the acronym PNN. Army infantryman. The identify comes from the army occupational specialty code (MOS) for an infantryman, which is 11B, learn 11 Bravo. Similar to everybody, the Marines have their ways of slacking off, and "skating" is their term for it. A-gang" is slang for the auxiliary division of a ship or submarine. They're responsible for the auxiliary equipment, such because the heating and A/C, refrigeration items, hydraulics and more. Members of the auxiliary are known as "A-gangers. Forty mm grenade or a M203, which is a grenade launcher sometimes mounted under a M16 rifle. The Army and Marines would almost certainly be handling this kind of artillery. Minot Air Force Base in very cold North Dakota.

Additionally, the separate condenser could possibly be stored at a much lower temperature and required much less cooling. After partnering with Matthew Boulton, Watt produced a quicker, more gas-environment friendly engine using the separate condenser. The pair's attempt to find new makes use of for their profitable engine led to two extra essential innovations - the double-appearing engine and the fly-ball governor. The fly-ball governor created an automated methodology of opening and shutting steam valves to a piston. Sun and planet gear have been mounted to a wheel-driven shaft. As steam power precipitated the rod to spin, the 2 balls spun outward from the shaft. Once they reached their highest point, they caused the steam valve to shut. As their spinning slowed, they spun again towards the rod and prompted the valve to open once more. This remodeled the motion in the steam engine from again and forth - reciprocating motion - into the circular movement required to function a wheel.

This compresses the spring, inflicting it to push the piston back out of the cylinder whenever you launch the set off. These two strokes of the piston, into the cylinder and out again, represent your complete pump cycle. The downstroke, the piston pushing in, shrinks the amount of the cylinder, forcing water or air out of the pump. The upstroke, the spring pushing the piston again out, expands the cylinder quantity, sucking water or air into the pump. In a water Orbi Gun, you want to suck water in from the reservoir beneath and pressure it out via the barrel above. With the intention to get all of the water moving via the barrel, the pump must only force water up -- it can not drive water back into the reservoir. In different phrases, the water should transfer by means of the pump in just one course. The machine that makes this doable is called a one-way valve. The one-manner valve in a basic squirt pistol consists of a tiny rubber ball that rests neatly inside a small seal.

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graymanbriefing · 4 months

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Censorship & Privacy Brief: National Summary The Governor of New York has directed the Division of Homeland Security and Emergency Services to develop a "Media Literacy Tool Kit" for K-12 Schools "to help public school educators teach their students how to spot misinformation/disinformation/malinformation (“MDM”) online". Debrief: (CLASSIFIED) At Minot Air Force Base, ND; base officials published an advisory, warning service members (SMs) to "exercise caution if downtown this weekend" due "to an event going at the fairgrounds downtown, called Dakota Patriot Rally" and that SM participation in the event "could jeopardize their continued service in the U.S. military". Debrief: The manipulation of and threat to SMs was brought to the attention of the U.S. Congress who then questioned the First Amendment violation implications of the Air Force detering SMs from attending a political event as a citiz...(CLASSIFIED) Former President Trump announced that if he were reelected he would "cancel Biden's artificial intelligence executive order and ban the use of AI" to...(CLASSIFIED) The internet service provider or network administrator for the U.S. House of Representatives has begun blocking Congress from viewing conservative news outlets' con...(CLASSIFIED) Threads (Meta's Twitter clone) will not permit the display of certain threads in chronological order. The dis...(CLASSIFIED) A U.S. Senator revealed, in a letter to the Department of Justice (DOJ), that Google and Apple have been continually "compelled" to provide governments with citizens' smartphone metadata and records related to push notifications. The letter further asked the DOJ to halt a standing order that prevents Google and Apple from notifying when the U.S. or forei...(CLASSIFIED) Over the summer of 2023, Meta began to implement a "default" censorship setting to users' accounts that reduces the amount of content served th...(CLASSIFIED, see full brief at www.graymanbriefing.com)

#News #Intel #Situational Awareness #Prepping

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hickmanhawley22 · 1 year

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Questions On Rheem Tankless Water Heaters

There definitely number of ways to steer clear of the legs from sinking in the ground. Getting is to sink both legs in the ground on the depth of your first ladder rung which will provide adequate support quit further misfortune. This can be difficult due to tree roots or gravel. However, if strategy is successful, you have lost some height of the ladder walk. Another disadvantage, the legs will tend to rust off while within moist soil, creating a security hazard. We need oil, all of us need it now. seamless stainless steel square tubing is sucking oil appearing a milk shake, and she won't be stopping. If you would like a great career, donrrrt top pipe welder. Just about all welding pays well. Most welders pay a visit to school for several of years, learn a lot of stuff they'll never use, and get stuck in low paying jobs. All of the while, they don't know that when just learn this one skill you know nothing else, they're going to be able additional medications real money for with the rest of their working. The benefit of tube skylights is which give 100% of visible spectrum of light. seamless galvanized pipe is what is meant for the circadian rhythm. Also sunlight assists in the improve trueness of the colours that we notice reducing strain on the view. Tube skylights that are large produce wattage of 1000 - 1400 W of light. So, this can replace a involving bulbs at the same cost as immediately a permanent fixture that is high finish line. A 10'' tube skylight would provide equivalent of nearly 3 100 W bulbs the. She stomped to her bed and sat down with a thud. She was NOT upset with herself! She was upset with the non co-operation of the tube!!! Why in the world, could it not give her what she wanted? Should it cant you create even the sense to recognise what a youngster wants? Is it not its duty to sleepy eyed kids, who win the big fight to wake up early individuals no school? Can't it co-operate this little much and do its job properly? When will adults and toothpaste tubes understand small simple obvious needs of square pipe kids? Why not Minot, (North Dakota)? You will out. You sure consider every warm piece of clothing you ever got inside your life (and ask your mom for this baby blanket back too). Why? because you'll be putting it all on to start with. Temperatures could be 40 degrees Fahrenheit, BELOW zero. yuantai steel isn't only place there is work or will soon be work. The big pipeline from Canada to Texas will start up soon, and the likely to discover demand for pipe welders explode. There is no shortage of solutions to the above question. I have heard folks say imagine the tube resembles an eel. Other guys have mentioned consider bass think the tube is an eel having a worm in the mouth swimming backwards (that one's my favorite!). Should choose to to renovate an unfinished part within the home, test for radon before work begins. This much in order to install a radon system in an unfinished a spot. If your test results are close on the EPA action level (4.0 pCi/l), test the space again in the evening is basically finished.

#square tube #hollow pipe #gi pipe #yuantai pipe

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toptopic4u · 1 year

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MSU baseball picked fourth in preseason poll | News, Sports, Jobs

MINOT – Once again, the NSIC’s coach favor the Minot State baseball team to be a league title contender as the Beavers were picked fourth in the preseason poll released today. Minot State, which finished fourth last spring in the regular season and NSIC Tournament, shared the No. 4 spot with in-state rival the University of Mary as each program received 128 points in the voting by the league’s…

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johnsentrailersalesnd · 2 years

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Tips To Source Used Trailer Parts in Williston and Fargo, ND

Transportation requires a vehicle, no doubt, but a conventional car or truck, or bus is not enough to fulfill one’s requirements always. Farmers often have to deliver fresh produce to a far-off market, while people may require to carry livestock to another location for various reasons. Such a need warrants the use of a trailer that is pulled by a vehicle. Trailers are sturdy, with enough space to hold enormous amounts of cargo. Accidents do happen, with wear & tear often being noticed in old trailers. The owner may have to buy a part as a replacement or keep several parts in store to be used as and when needed. Whatever may be the reason spending a good amount of money on brand new components for an old trailer that has been used extensively is not the right decision to make. Sourcing used trailer parts in Williston and Fargo, ND, can be the perfect alternative in such circumstances. It is best to reach out to a reputed company that has made a name for itself. Selling and servicing trailers may be reckoned a tough job, but the trailer owners are pleased to find assistance when it is time for them to check out the available pre-owned parts. Simply grabbing the item without considering any of the other aspects would be foolhardy, though. Instead, it would be better to consider the pre-owned trailer part in the light right by checking the following: Inspection- Seeing is Believing! This dogma works well for buying a used part of the trailer too. The specific item should be able to meet all parameters perfectly without revealing tell-tale signs of damage either. Moreover, there should not be any rusty spots noted anywhere within the concerned part. Having an expert accompany the first-time buyer will enable one to make the right decision before handing over the money. A part with obvious signs of mold is a strict no-no too. Source- It is essential to locate a trustworthy source before buying the required part. Falling for incorrect information is a long-standing problem with gullible individuals found everywhere. The interested buyer must check the credentials of the seer, inspect the part and be truly convinced about its quality and affordability before saying yes. Asking around and researching online are the best ways to find a seller worthy of trust. Previous Owner- Although many trailer owners try to sell the old parts themselves, this is not a practice recommended by experts. Purchasing good-quality pre-owned trailer parts is not a simple give and take. On the contrary, one would do well to contact a reputed company and try to source the right part. The new owner should also inquire about the existing owner and the reason for selling the concerned component. Regular maintenance and trailer repair in Fargo and Minot, MD, are essential parts of using a trailer to ensure business success. Having a professional take on this responsibility can help the trailer owner save time and money in the long run.

#used trailer parts in Williston and Fargo ND trailer repair in Fargo and Minot MD

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perarduavirtus · 2 years

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Louisa Davis Minot (American, 1787-1858) Niagara Falls [American Side], 1818 Niagara Falls [Canadian Side], 1818 oil

“Near the fort [Fort Erie], on its north side, is a common grave where ... a large number of the slain on both sides are interred ... The American traveller can never visit this spot without emotion; [they] will look round for some one who can describe to [them], minutely, the unexpected explosion, and the brilliant sortie, who can point out the deep ravine and the difficult and till then impassable wood. [They] will examine the trees that are shattered, and the ground that has been torn up by the balls and rockets, on their passage from the British camp to the fort. [They] will water the roses that already growing on the soldier's grave. In a few years, however, this ruin will be indiscriminately mingled with the soil; or a new fort will stand in its place. New branches and new foliage will cover the dismantled trunk of the forest tree. The storm will have levelled these sandy graves, with the beach, on which they are thrown up. The recollections of misery and the impulses of revenge, will be chased from the mind, by the blessings of peace, and the sympathies of friendly intercourse. Then will the curious feeling traveller seek in vain for those vestiges of the war, either on the face of the country, or in the hearts of its inhabitants, and there will be none remaining, who have witnessed these transactions. ...

“There is but a little cleared land about this place [Buffaloe [sic]] ... Now and then a log hut and cleared field gleam amidst the forest; but the black stumps, around which the wheat is waving, show that the sun has for a few years only, shed his unobstructed rays on the soil." ~ Louisa Davis Minot, July 1815

[No comment. Compare and contrast: (The opinions expressed in the above paintings are entirely that of the original artist and do not, necessarily, reflect the view of the poster to this Tumbler.) They are the two impressive canvases of Niagara Falls painted after Minot’s July 1815 trip to Fort Erie, Upper Canada, less than a year after the destruction.]

(via)

#Louisa Davis Minot #Niagara Falls #War of 1812

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scribbledghost · 2 years

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Pairing: Minotaur!Whiskey x Reader (no Y/N, but will be female reader in later chapters)

Rating: T

Word Count: 1,946

Warnings: vague descriptions of death and loss

Notes: You make it into town and get to see the devastation left behind by the mimics first hand. Bit of a slower chapter, but it'll set up some important exposition.

You left your cabin much later than you intended, mostly due to Jack’s outburst and your subsequent baring of souls. You loved him, and he loved you, and that was enough for you to postpone your plan of quietly mentioning him around town just yet. In a way, you supposed he was right - the people you’d grown acquainted with since your arrival years ago had been through so much already. Adding any additional reality-changing news could very well result in them turning volatile.

The secluded gravel road leading away from your cabin and towards the little side road that connected to the one through town seemed longer than it had previously. You saw no sign of any carnage or mimic creatures. No blood, no corpses. The mimics were akin to something non-corporeal, and had simply dissolved when the Statesman agents had swept through and used high-density UV lights on them.

Light chasing away the shadows. How fitting.

Your gravel drive was hidden well by the dense trees and natural rocks on either side of it as it led out to the paved road.

Here, as you turned in the direction of the main street through the nearby little town, was where you caught your first glimpse of the infestation’s ramifications. Along the side of the road every so often were abandoned vehicles, most with their doors still hanging open. They had been moved from the road and leaned into the ditches on either side by either Statesman or the military, judging by the brightly spray-painted X’s on each one. A sign that they’d been checked and deemed clear of any mimics.

Your drive was slow and eerie, as you’d turned your radio off as soon as you’d spotted the first car. Having music playing seemed… disrespectful. One car turned into two, two turned into three and an SUV, those turned into a few pickup trucks and a minivan. All wide open. All empty. All bearing a giant X on the side. Try as you might, you couldn’t help but think about the fates of those who’d been inside when the mimics arrived.

You wondered if you’d known any of them.

Nevertheless, you pressed on, wanting to get your trip over with as soon as possible so you could return home. Jack’s words had dug into your heart and mind, driving you into a melancholy state. You loathed the idea of him sitting at home, wondering if it would be better to change what he was in order to please you. As if you would ever ask or desire that he change something so fundamental to himself.

Truthfully, if you were to be honest with yourself, you quite liked his Minotaur state. He was large and warm, his fur keeping you both warm through the winter. He was stronger than the average human due to the fact that he simply had more muscle mass afforded to him due to his size. You reveled in the days when the two of you would lay beneath your shade tree in your wildflower meadow, him on his back and you rested atop him. You never worried about being too heavy for him.

Plus, if you really got to the root of things… you had only ever known Jack as a Minotaur. You’d seen pictures of his human form before, when you’d snuck into Statesman’s records to try and dig up his past, but he was transformed and thrown into that dingy basement long before you’d become a part of the agency.

You knew in your heart of hearts that you would love him just as much if he decided to go through with Ginger’s offer of attempting to find a way to turn him human again. His visage made no difference in whether or not you loved him, or how much. But still, if he were to ask you, and if you were to be completely, utterly, blatantly honest in return… you preferred him as he was. You preferred the fur, the horns, the hooves. He was your Minotaur.

You also knew that his recent revisiting of Ginger’s offer was less because he wanted it and more because he thought you did.

“It’d be easier on you,” he’d said. “Safer.”

As if either of those things mattered when compared to having him with you. Sure, it would be easier for him to accompany you into town, or for the residents of said town to at least know of his existence, but you didn’t much care. You managed just fine dancing around questions of your relationship status and whether you got lonely or felt unsafe in your secluded home. And as for safer… you couldn’t particularly pinpoint how he’d gotten that idea. Perhaps he was worried that he’d turn dangerous one day. That he’d lose control of himself and harm you in some manner. Or perhaps he was worried one or more of the townspeople would show up one day and find him, resulting in them harming you or casting you aside for harboring him.

You didn’t know. But again… you didn’t think much of those scenarios either. The townsfolk nearby were kind and welcoming, and although some (mostly those of older generations) were endearingly nosy in your affairs, they all gave you your space when you really requested it. You had no concern of any of them showing up unannounced. And you knew Jack would never harm you. He would never allow himself to be a danger to you, no matter what happened to his mind. You knew that as well as you knew your own thoughts.

Just as you were continuing to ponder the inner workings of Jack’s mind, you came to the turn off of the side road onto the main one. As you turned, the small town began to come into view.

Your heart sank.

The main street was littered with debris like scattered paper, downed power lines, and various other items that had once belonged to people. You drove further, noticing with a relieved sigh how there seemed to be people milling about, no doubt helping to begin the cleanup and recovery process.

You stopped your car just outside of town, unable to continue much further due to the detritus. As you got out and began walking towards the first person you could find, you noticed a grim scene.

The shops on either side of the main street were mostly demolished. Large windows were shattered, doors hung open on their hinges, and several were sporting burn marks that stretched towards the roof. Your hope of finding any food to take home dwindled in tandem with how far you walked.

“Hey, you made it!”

You were called from your thoughts by a young woman as she jogged over. You recognized her as Anne, someone you’d spoken with many times before when you were in town. She was in her late twenties if you recalled correctly; married with two kids. You would almost venture to call her a friend, though you were unsure if she would call you the same.

“Yeah,” you responded, “W- I managed alright outside of town. How’s the husband and kids?”

“We… barely made it,” she said, sadness lacing her tone as she cast her gaze downward. “It… it all happened so fast. We weren’t prepared. Mr. Branson from down the way came by early on and said he was runnin’ to town and that he’d grab some things for us so Wilson didn’t have to leave me and the kids. Wil insisted on going with him. Safety in numbers and all that. But when he came back… oh god, you should’ve seen his face… he said… he said Mr. Branson had picked up something and it just… latched onto him. Wil said he was gone before he even knew what was going on, so he just… ran home to us.”

“I’m sorry,” you said sincerely. The accounts of mimics absorbing people were enough to keep you up at night, and you’d only read them online, not counting seeing Champagne. You shuddered to think of how it must have felt to witness it in person.

“I’m just grateful we’re all still here,” Anne continued. “Others… weren’t as lucky.”

You only nodded. You could tell that much long before she said anything.

“Anything I can do to help?”

“Truthfully, I’m not sure,” she answered. “Mayor Hendrix should be in city hall still - you can go ask her. Last I heard she’s still drawing up plans on how to come back from this, though between you and me… I’m not sure we can.”

Again, you nodded, bidding Anne farewell before continuing along through town. You caught sight of others as you did, sometimes stopping and listening to them tell bits and pieces of their own tales of horror. You had brief flashbacks to the voices you’d heard outside your door in the early days of the infestation, and though you’d known they were gone, it still saddened you to hear it confirmed by their loved ones.

You remembered Sandra, the first voice you’d heard. She’d left behind an elderly mother who had also passed away during the crisis without her daughter to help care for her. You remembered Samuel, the first voice you’d heard after the mimics had swarmed west once Statesman began their eradication. He’d left behind a wife and baby girl who would grow up without ever knowing her father.

Guilt swam in your stomach as people told you of the casualties. You wanted to reassure them, wanted to tell them the full story and how you knew the threat was truly over. But what could you say to them that would make any shred of sense?

Oh yeah, don’t worry. The root of the mimic infestation came to my cabin personally to hunt down myself and my significant other. We killed him though. Put a horn right through his head and he just dissolved away. Oh yeah, I live with a Minotaur. Have I mentioned? Anyway, no more mimics, don’t worry.

Even if any of that made sense and the person on the receiving end of such wild information took it well enough to avoid having a mental break, it wouldn’t bring back those that had been lost. It was a moot point now.

As you walked up to city hall, you waved hello to a few people you recognized in passing.

“Mayor still in?” you asked.

“Yep,” one responded. “Should still be in her office on the second floor.”

You thanked them and made your way inside. The foyer was still lit by the sun filtering in through the windows, though the darker hallways had been supplied with candles to guide you upstairs.

Just as you made it to the second floor, you stopped.

As much as you wanted to see what you could do to aid the town that had welcomed you in, you also wanted to go home. You wanted to lie in bed with Jack, wanted to hold him close and help bandage whatever parts of his heart had been cracked in the past few months.

After several moments of silence, you sighed. The sun was still high in the sky, and you hadn’t been away from home that long. You made a compromise with yourself - you would talk to Mayor Hendrix, see what you could aid her with and ask her if there was any way to get food in town, then tell her you’d be back tomorrow to start helping. Simple. Just a conversation, then you could go home.

At least, that’s what you told yourself as you knocked on her door and stepped into her office.

#agent whiskey #agent whiskey x reader #minotaur whiskey #ghost scribbles

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