So I (M34) am married (F33) with two kids and a FT job (hospital associate director), I work 4 days a week and have 3 off but very flexible hours. I normally cook, clean the house, do the laundry, go grocery shopping, manage the finances, do landscaping, pest control, fix/repair the house, work on the vehicles and help with the kids (feeding breakfast/lunch/dinner, getting ready for school, taking to school, picking them up, after school activities etc). I have help with my mom who helps when i'm late at work but only on occasions because she can spend time with them and spoil them (smh). Its been like this for 8 years and I really honestly never really gave it much thought. Normally, in the evenings my wife will cuddle with me on the couch and we will watch some tv togethetalk etc before bed (we also go out of the lake on the weekends and hike/mountain bike).
This morning I got up like i normally do around 5am and started to get things prepped for the kids and getting their lunches ready. My wife was getting ready for work (she normally gets up a little early to workout, something new she has started), so i got coffee and just waited for her to finish in the kitchen. Once she was done I got the lunches ready for the boys and she kept looking at me like something was wrong, I looked over and asked "whats up, is everything thing okay?" She looks at me and starts to tell me that she feels like I do to much and that she feels lazy. I didn't say anything because I wanted her to tell me what she was thinking, she went on to say that she wanted to divide up the chores more and help out because she wasn't in school anymore and was working and wanted to help. I said fine and started telling her all the things i did and the list of chores I had (i use a notes app) and shared it with her. She started going thru the list and said it was crazy long and that she didn't believe that I was doing all this!
I got upset and just finished making breakfast for the boys while she kept going thru the list, boys got up, i fed them, then got them ready for school and took them to school. Its Friday evening and I am making dinner and she on her phone going thru the list again and asks when the last time I cleaned the toilets. I told her this past sunday, she got upset and said I was lying because the toilets were dirty in the kids bathroom!!??? At this point I just look at her trying not to blow my head off and say calmly that the boys are messy and we both taught them how to use the bathroom but they are just messy/learning and it takes time. Hence the cleaning schedule, they are young (4 and 6), and do the best they can for that age (i'm proud of how well our boys behave and do their best). She then just rolls her eyes at me and goes to the couch to watch tv.
Come Monday, the boys are at school and we are both off so I'm outside doing tree trimming and trying to keep our 3-4ish acres looking somewhat decent (i'm not the best but i'm learning and slowly getting better). I come inside for some more water and she is painting. She said she needs to leave soon and made an appointment to get her nails done. I said no problem and went to give her a kiss goodbye before she left. I asked her what she wanted for dinner as she was heading out the door. She immediately, started screaming at me calling me an asshole for making her feel so lazy???!! She then went on to calling a me lying AH and trying to make her do more chores than me??? I told her i love her and i didnt want to do any of this and am happy to divide the chores however she wants or I can do them myself (honestly, its been 8 years, i dont know whats going on) she left for her nail appointment and has refused to talk to me. I spent the last two nights on the couch because she doesn't want me in the bedroom. I'm somewhat lost about what the heck is going on?? i feel like i'm being punished for working too hard? or lying that i'm working to hard?

I see lots of really old blender tutorials on youtube but nothing really that recently.
I've seen vertex groups and vertex painting, or just having fully separate exported mesh.
I want to have texture/color id that I can ultimately use in Substance Painter.
But I also want a single material exported into unreal engine.
I also want to still be able to things like 'Select Linked' (which supports normal, material, seam, sharp, UVs). I know in the case of VG, I could go there and do 'Select' on the VG and assign/remove just like I do materials which is pretty nice.
I don't want to have to manually pick colors via some slider or something. The fewer things I have to fiddle with the better.
Is there a plugin or workflow that is suggested?

Genocide looked to the sky. He thought of his mentor. The one who had saved him. He remembered his childhood. How powerless he was. He remembered the anger. He never wanted to hurt anybody. He thought of all the times he showed compassion. How much they hurt him for it. He saw the world before him, a graveyard. Humans. People that were supposed to be made in the image of some divine creator. They were but maggots feasting upon his remains. They ate away at his very being until nothing human remained. His thoughts were no longer his own. He had no joys in life that mattered. He hated humanity more than he could love anything about himself. He remember his first killing spree. Being gunned down by police. Left for dead. He remembered a hooded figure moving towards him. Getting closer the more he neared his death. He saw its pale face. Its impossibly black eyes. It was a man. This figure in question appeared to be of Japanese nationality with long, straight, loose hair. It emanated extreme malice. It offered him a choice. A purpose. Power. He thought the figure a reaper but it identified itself as Amakusa Masataka. Masataka guided him on how to kill and gave him specific locations to kill people in. In a sense, he became a hitman for quotas of people. He inquired what Masataka was. The presence of evil, his ability to appear and disappear at will, how he could control what people could see him and what people couldn't. While vague, years of killing for this being offered some insight. Amakusa Masataka belonged to a group of people not of this world. His people had been corrupted by a dark force long ago and had aligned themselves with the warlord who had subjugated their version of Japan. Their dark high priest assisted the warlord along with two others. These four rulers in turn served a larger order. The four were tasked with bringing about the end of the current world as an act of retribution for some fallen deity. Masataka's people acted as covert operatives for this empire. They were feared across the land and were collectively referred to as "Shinigami". An agent of the coming apocalypse, a servant of evil possessed by the will of those gods of death, Genocide would walk the earth.
Genocide stepped toward the station. A police cruiser rammed into him. He pulled out a knife and stabbed the hood of the car. The inhuman force of the knife created sparks which burst the engine into flames. The car crashed into a streetlight and exploded. A second cruiser neared the scene. No way a man could have done this. Yet still, out of the fires Genocide strode forth. It set upon the second vehicle, shooting out it's tires while jumping 9 feet into the air. The car tries to reverse but crashes into a wall. Genocide lands on the hood and kicks through the front window. Glass shatters under its boot, blinding the two officers inside. Genocide shoots one of the officers with a shotgun, killing him. The second officer in the passenger seat readies his pistol and takes aim. Only two shots fired, both directed at Genocide's head. It casually cocks its neck to avoid them. Then it grabs the officer's arm, breaking it. Genocide uses its free hand to grab the officer's head and bangs it into the dashboard no less than 5 times. The skull is shattered on the final impact. Genocide jumps off the car and continues on his mission.
Detective Evans speaks through a megaphone," This is your first and final warning. Stand down or we will use any and all means at our disposal to put you down." Genocide dropped its shotgun and raised its hands. A group of five SWAT team members rushed out the station, surrounding Genocide with riot shields. An officer accompanies them, edging behind the figure to apply handcuffs. Suddenly, Genocide springs to life , grabbing the officer behind him. He flips the officer over his head, slamming him into the pavement at his feet. Then Genocide stomps his head causing it to burst. Genocide drops a flash bomb from his coat sleeve, blinding the SWAT team as he draws his knife. He drives it into one SWAT member, the knife puncturing the shield and piercing his chest. Genocide kicks the corpse away withdrawing his knife. He goes to another, this time using the end of his boot toe in a rising kick to disarm their shield. He grabs them by the throat and drives the knife slowly into their eye socket. Another is tackled to the ground and beaten to death despite still being under the shield. Another is picked up and thrown into the fires still burning from the first auto incident. In no time, Genocide stood before an indistinguishable mass of gore, blood streaking across his black leather outfit. He laughed" So this is all you can give me. I'm not entertained." Officers took aim from the station windows, and snipers did so from other rooftops. Genocide laughed maniacally as he was rained down upon from all sides by a hailstorm of bullets. His body convulsed, but he did not fall. Moments more and he was on his knees. Still though, their efforts were futile. Gracia looked out and saw a black mist coalescing around the man in black. His blood. Blood erupted from his body only to transform into this dark mist that reentered his wounds. Genocide screamed. No. It was just an elevated pitch in his laughter. Optimism failed everyone yet again. Gracia saw Genocide holding something in his right hand. She could only make out a beeping red light. Genocide pushed the button triggering the carefully concealed explosives he laid in preparation for this event. C4 explosives went off in all the places he saw fit. The sniping posts he couldn't reach. The assault of lead lightened. Then Genocide drew an RPG from...somewhere. He collected himself and fired at the station's entrance. The explosion shook the station. From inside, the lights began to flicker. Communications were down on all fronts. Had he modified the rocket with some type of EMP? Not good. Amisdst the confusion Genocide entered using smoke bombs to mask his presence. Moving like a shadow, he killed everyone in the lobby silently with his knife. He made his way to the holding cells. Still they chanted. Still they praised. Still they raved for the arrival of genocide. Genocide shot the lock opening the cell. Jim Jimenez walked out and bowed before his master. Genocide smiled. He couldn't have imagined how proficient he had gotten with possession. Well, not quite possession. He had known of the Shinigami's ability to share their thoughts and emotions with humans. Shinigami like his mentor were ancient. They had so many years of memories, such strong a hatred for life that they overwhelmed the personality of the victim. The victim sees themselves as one of them. Shinigami can't force the will of the victim, so they find those who are already similar to them in some way. Genocide found the collective universal distrust of police to be a prime sentiment to capitalize on. He armed the inmates, infecting them with samples of his own dark essence.One particular inmate caught Genocide's eye. He knew the man's work. An arsonist. The one whom he recalls was responsible for blowing up his first car way back in high school. Rather than a standard firearm, Genocide gave the man a random assortment of grenades containing a special surprise. Genocide showed them visions of anarchy, of sending a message to a society that used and disregarded them. While this was also true of how he felt, years of living in darkness had changed him. He needed no purpose. No end goal. No justification. He just wanted to watch the world burn.
Genocide's small army broke off to engage several different wings of the station. Genocide went to the security room. He found Wayne, his informant, playing some FPS on one of the monitors. Wayne took of his headphones and asked," You kill everyone yet?" Genocide responded," No. You should get going before that happens. Your life becomes fair game if I run out of pigs to cook." Wayne clapped his hands, "Aight, GC my man, say less." He packed his things and left. Genocide drew a twin pair of handguns and laid waste to the station. He followed a group that took cover in the men's restroom. Kicking open multiple stalls he was surprised to find...nothing. Where had they gone? He turned around and saw his mentor, Masataka, smiling at him. It looked like him. Long, dark hair, black clothing, and soulless, empty eyes. But it wasn't. It was Genocide's own reflection in the mirror. Genocide smiled. He didn't notice the changes at first. They must have happened gradually. Subconsciously. From the final stall, an officer sprung into action, rushing Genocide, hitting him point blank with a shockgun round. Genocide felt the tingling sensation electrifying his body and grew numb. In spite of the pain, he took a single step. Then, another. He came within striking range of the officer and snatched the shockgun. Two more officers erupted from another stall, battering him with baton strikes. Genocide felt nothing. He clutched the shockgun in his hand like a bat and went to work pulverizing his attackers. An officer kicked in the bathroom door, a woman holding a pistol. She fired multiple times to no effect. Genocide stood covered in blood. He even let her reload. Twice. He wanted to see her despair. Her hopelessness. He walked towards her, shrugging off bullets as they pierced his body. His wounds healed nigh instantly due to the dark essence he had been imbued with. He held her face with both hands, lifting her body off the ground. As she screamed, he used her head to shatter the restroom mirror, running down the full length of it while smashing her into it at several points. He dropped the remains of what he held, washed his hands with soap, dried them, then exited the restroom.
The inmates that rallied for the cause of genocide attacked the station. Fortunately, they were nowhere near Genocide in terms of power and only carried one type of firearm each. They shared his healing ability but could be killed quite easily. Gracia encountered a sniper on the end or a west wing hallway. Other officers waited behind corners unable to get close. Gracia noticed the faulty lighting. In this hallway, the lights flickered in intervals of 3 seconds. Finding a pattern and timing her movements, she rushed the sniper at the exact moment the lights went out. Running the length of the hall, Gracia zigzagged, dodging the sniper inmate's bullets. She jumped on a wall, ran 3 feet on it, then kicked off it, pouncing on the assailant. She fired five shots into him, making sure to hit the brain and the heart. Two severe injuries that were impossible for Shinigami essence to heal simultaneously. Elsewhere, Evans took on another escaped inmate. A vehicular arsonist named Carson. Carson had a bag filled with an assortment of different grenades and was happily giving them out like candy on Halloween. "A flash bang here, a bit of tear gas there. Oh. Wait! Was that an ice grenade? Did the explosion freeze your leg to the floor? Whoops. Maybe a fire grenade will melt that for you. Hold on let me get one fore you," Carson rambled gleefully. Evans looked at the carnage before him. Officers burning. Officers partially frozen in blocks of ice. He took a breath and aimed his wristgun. He steadied his right forearm. Carson readied to throw a random grenade. Evans shot it the moment it left Carson's hand. The grenade exploded directly in front of Carson. Both Evans and Carson looked at each other in shock. Confetti. A party grenade? Carson quickly fumbled for another but was tackled and restrained by several officers. Meanwhile in the South wing, Lary had some colleagues set a trap for another shotgun toting inmate. He had them bait the inmate and flee. Giving chase he turned a corner and ran straight into Lary's fist. The inmate recovered and motioned to shoot Lary. "Let's tango. " Lary gave the code word. Nearby officers activated a device. A signal jammer of sorts. The inmate shoved the barrel of his gun into Lary's gut and pulled the trigger. Nothing. The special signal jammer in question was designed for firearms. It was a last resort as it left officers just as defenseless. Lary was having fun. He boxed the inmate in hand to hand combat. Despite the inmate's enhanced strength, Lary's technique pulled through. Lary ducked under one of the inmate's wide punches and did some type of rising uppercut where he jumped off the ground while spinning. One of the other officers whispered" The rising dragon." Lary smiled giving a thumbs up" Yeah, it was a rising dragon uppercut. Saw it in one O my kid's vidya games. Thought I'd try it out while I'm jacked on adrenaline".
Jim Jimenez looked long and hard at himself in the mirror. He was in the women's restroom. Some brainless woman had broken the men's restroom mirror with her face. For the first time in a long while Jim could think clearly. He was becoming sane. At the least he was no longer a raving lunatic. The life essence of the dark gods had healed the wounds to both his body and his mind. He saw his face, his scraggly dirty beard. He found a razor and shaved. He trimmed his beard somewhat. He liked it. He washed his hair. It fell down his face like silk, no longer greasy. His bloodshot eyes once burning with crazed intensity had cooled. He blinked. Just for a second, he saw the man known as Genocide. The man that attacked him. The one that killed him and gave him new life. The drug dealers. The police. They were all the same in his eyes now. They were all to blame for the world being what it is. Jim wanted to hate them. He wanted to take revenge, but he felt nothing. It didn't matter. He knew he was wronged, could logically justify acting against them, but he just didn't care anymore. About anything. He was finally free. Sensing his presence was no longer needed here, Jim vanished into the night. He needed to find someone who had had the answers he needed. Himself. Who had he been? Who was he now? Who could he become? Where was he going? So many questions to ponder indefinitely. So much time left in the rest of his life.
Genocide ran down the station's halls raining hailstorms of bullets upon its occupants. He had a handgun in each hand as well as a wristgun on each wrist. This effectively gave him 4 separate firearms that he could use simultaneously. Lary regrouped with Gracia, Evans, and a handful of others. They radioed all surviving officers near Genocide to flee to the roof. This plan had been set in motion days before the assault and had been kept hidden from most of the force. The plan involved scheduling flights for several helicopters to arrive at some point after Genocide arrived. There would be no way for him to prepare for them and pre-scheduling their arrival ensured they arrived regardless of if they were called or not. Lary and the others set about preparing the second jamming device. Genocide stood among a hallway of bodies. He saw one man clinging to life trying to crawl away. He decided on trying that other thing he saw his master do. He grabbed the dying man and pinned him to the wall. Slowly he drove a knife into his chest. As the man's life slipped away, something else entered his body. Genocide channeled a small amount of his essence into the vessel. He had steadily done this with other casualties around the station whose bodies were somewhat salvageable. He dropped the body he was holding and looked upon the others. He closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, his eyed were black, both sclera and iris. The scene before him changed. Genocide had a vision. He saw a dead gray wasteland littered with bodies. These people however weren't cops and wore traditional Japanese attire. In his hand wasn't a gun or knife but a short sickle akin to a farming tool. He heard a dark voice call out to him. Slowly, the corpses around him began to rise, now mere puppets bound eternally to their master's whim. The bodies sold to the reaper who had claimed their lives. Genocide's vision ended. His eyes had returned normal. Around him, dead cops began to rise. His dark essence had entered their bodies and reanimated them. He sent his dead army to attack the officers fleeing to the roof of the station. These zombies swarmed the stairwell giving chase to the few survivors. There were five of them. They had two flights of stairs to climb and a horde of their former colleagues close behind them. One officer tripped and was set upon by the horde. The zombies didn't bite them but held them firmly in place. The other four officers stared down wondering what to do. They could hear Genocide chuckling. They could hear humming. They could feel the temperature rising. Their colleague and the two zombies holding him were hit by an enormous green fireball. Genocide had fired a Magnum Opus and had charged the bullet to level 3. The Magnum Opus was simply a magnum that shot fireballs, with bullets that could be charged by holding down the trigger. It had three levels of charges. Level 1 was a small reddish ball of plasma. Level 2 was slightly larger and yellow. Level 3 was the maximum charge and resulted in a large slow moving green blast of energy. The officer was ignited and Genocide watched gleefully as the force of the blast sent him flying through a wall. The four officers continued up firing occasionally to slow down the zombies. Soon they made it to a door leading to the roof. Before one officer could reach it, he was sniped by Genocide, a bullet to the head killing him instantly. The remaining three made it out. They regrouped with the others already there, 12 in total, including Lary, Evans, and Gracia. This would be their final stand. They just had to hold out until Genocide made it up there. They just had to keep Genocide occupied until the helicopters arrived. Genocide slowly ascended the stairs behind his horde. On the roof, the remaining survivors faced off against waves of the undead. Evans recognized the attackers. These zombies were being controlled by nanomachines. He heard the stories of several weapons encountered by soldiers on the battlefield. These creatures were called Metaldeads as they were reanimated via machines. They had been officially banned by most of the worlds' governments for being unethical. However, this did not stop the technology from being spread still between shady organizations, terrorists, etc. Evans wondered how Genocide got this form of nanotechnology. Evans long speculated that the dark essence used by most of the killers they encountered was a a form of nanotech however it was different from anything else he had seen or heard about. The dark essence seemed to be an amalgamation of other types of nanotech. Evans had to save his inquiries for later. He reloaded his wristgun and took aim at the approaching group of Metaldeads. Gracia steadied her handgun and shot two Metaldeads in the head. From the single door countless arms seemed to spill forth from the darkness. The other officers took turns firing in intervals. this allowed them to create a steady stream of fire where no more that three guns needed to be reloaded at once. The horde seemed to thin out over time as if they were making progress. In actuality, the Metaldeads were just making room for Genocide to enter. Genocide exploded in a sprint from the door. Everyone fired upon the killer. Genocide had now chosen a wrist mounted mini flamethrower to use as his weapon. He stormed past the oncoming bullets taking some damage, but refused to slow down. He unleashed a stream of fire that caught five of the officers in one fell swoop. Gracia fired five rounds into Genocide's face. He stumbled back. Lary took the chance to fire several mine gun bullets at Genocide's feet. The mines quickly detected his movement and exploded. In seconds, Genocide was on his back.
Staring at the night sky Genocide saw the moon. He reached for it. He called for the darkness to give him more power. His wounds began healing. In the sky he could hear the whirl of propellers. There were six helicopters in total. The first two had evacuated the survivors while the others stayed to engage Genocide. Genocide got up and unstrapped the sniper rifle from his back. He stood before the searchlights as a black silhouette, cornered but unwilling to back down. Lary stared down at him smiling. "Okay!" He shouted, "Let's Tango!" Upon this declaration the second jamming device was activated. Now, isolated on the roof, Genocide's guns couldn't be fired and the helicopters were out of range of the device. Now Genocide stood like a sitting duck. A helicopter fired a rocket. Genocide side stepped and grabbed it. He turned his body redirecting the rocket to hit another helicopter. As it exploded Genocide drew his knife and threw it at another helicopter. Behind the knife was such force that it shattered the helicopter window's glass, embedding itself in the pilot. This helicopter too went down where it exploded. "Holy clucknuggets!Did you see that!?" Lary said dumbfounded. Evans looked out the helicopter door he was in jaw open in shock. "There's no way." He collected himself quickly and radioed the remaining two helicopters to keep moving and to use their machineguns as much as possible. The helicopters reigned down upon Genocide tearing apart his body. Shreds of leather and darkened blood sprayed across the pavement of the roof. Gracia watched as Genocide's body was destroyed repeatedly as it tried to heal. Surely he had to stop at some point. After 10 minutes the helicopters had exhausted their cache of ammunition and soldiers opted to fire their own rifles and occasionally throw grenades. After about six minutes, they too had run out of bullets. Genocide stood unfazed. He had long since healed himself and now appeared intangible with gunfire seeming to pass through his body. His coat once ripped , now appeared whole though on closer inspection seemed to writhe. Gracia looked in horror as she remembered the tales her adopted father had told her. Tales he had in turn heard from his predecessors. Every so often officers had reported encounters with ghost like beings cloaked in a cloud of living dark mist. The beings were rumored to be responsible for the deaths of multiple people ranging from scientists, veterans, mafia, politicians, etc. They were seen near such crime scenes and even more shockingly appeared around several sites where suicides were committed. These beings were reportedly impervious to bullets and filled anyone who got near with an impending sense of dread. If Genocide was connected to them or somehow turning into one , there was little chance they would be able to defeat him. Gracia's fears were confirmed when she saw that Genocide's leather coat had been destroyed and he had replaced it with the dark mist coalescing from his own spilled blood. The dark mist, swirling, grew larger and several tendrils sprouted out from it. Gracia could briefly make out a figure standing next to Genocide. A hooded figure cloaked in the same black substance. The figure stared up at her with soulless, blackened eyes which seemed to beckon her to jump from the aircraft she was standing in. Compelling her to give in to the death that plagued the earth. Genocide kneeled to his master. The Shinigami, Masataka stared down at his disciple. "You have done a great service to us. Even now the sealed god stirs in its slumber. Its...Awakening will soon be upon us. It calls out for war. It begs for famine. It longs to continue its conquest. We are the death it so desires. The death that is necessary for this civilization to grow. Use the power that I have bestowed upon you. Finish the mission as you see fit." The Shinigami vanished and Genocide stood.Genocide stared at his hands. He remembered the first killing spree. He was on a bus. It stopped. A woman got on the bus and walked to the back smiling as she passed him. Something about her eyes unnerved him. They were so bright but something dark reflected inside them. He ignored the thought and put in his headphones. In minutes he had dozed off. He jumped awake. He looked around and froze in panic. All around him, everyone had been hacked to pieces. He saw the driver, actively being stabbed by a masked assailant. The mask, painted white with black eyeholes, stared back at him. It raised a finger over where its lips would be. Even under the expressionless visage, he could feel that same smile. He ran home that morning. He went to his room to find it destroyed. His posters, his computer, his tv, everything, had been ruined. He turned around and saw a man at the end of the hallway holding a sledge hammer. "The hell you been, boy?", his stepdad sneered. The man dropped his hammer and walked closer, veins pulsing with rage. He tried to explain how his car had caught fire forcing him to walk 4 miles to the nearest bus stop, but the man's fist was faster than his words. "Boy!Answer me when I talk to you!!" the man says as he backhands the taste out of the would be Genocide's mouth. He took that beating for several minutes before being left to stare at his ransacked room. He hated how his stepdad went out of his way to destroy the things he loved. Soon, another set of footsteps could be heard. It was his mother standing behind his locked door. She didn't knock, or say anything. She just stood there, doing nothing as always. He never knew if she came to talk to him or apologize. All he knew was that she could never bring herself to speak to or even acknowledge him. Maybe out of guilt or perhaps shame. A year or two later after he had had enough he ran away from home. Living out on the streets alone, without friends, or family, he would embark on countless killing sprees. These killings weren't of his own volition however. He was coerced by some corrupt officers from The Unit. They made him kill on their behalf. Sometimes they were protesters, sometimes they were drug dealers, other times, petty criminals they couldn't be bothered to process. It was routine for him to be used to kill entire houses of drug riddled addicts. During one such venture he entered a drug den, killing the dealer as instructed. He took out several junkies before turning to leave. A woman who survived her injuries clung to his heel begging him to stop. Looking down he aimed the handgun he was carrying at her head of long disheveled brown hair and fired. Feeling nothing, he kicked her body aside like trash when it hit him. Her face. This woman had been his mother. What was she doing in a place like this? He felt a shock of emotion. He wondered if she had always been like this, or had she changed after he left. He never made amends, but decided to stop killing from then on. The unit did not like that. Once it became apparent that he was no longer of use to them they started a manhunt to apprehend him with lethal force. They found him. They killed him. But he survived.
He remembered the girl on the bus. He remembered her eyes. Those of a sadistic killer. Still there was something else inside them. Something faint but deeper. So. Much. Sadness. Just like him. He felt the hatred begin to spread. His purpose, he decided, was to make all humans rot in the hell they created for him.
These people, he thought to himself, these living diseases, all needed to die. Their struggles, their problems, they spread like cancer to others. The only cure for humanity's sin, its collective wrongdoings, was genocide.
Around him, dark tendrils continued to form and expand, spinning in a vortex. Genocide pulled out two pistols. He squeezed the triggers to no effect. "As I see fit, huh? Hehe." He squeezed both guns in his hands, breaking them into pieces. He concentrated. In his hands, two more guns materialized now completely black due to being forged from the dark essence. Forged by his will. Immune to the jamming device that shut down conventional firearms. He raised his arms at each remaining helicopter and opened fire. Countless tendrils whipped out and slashed at his targets joining the dark essence bullets. It was chaos. Dark tendrils and bullets tore through every direction as Genocide spun and swirled around in 360 degrees firing randomly with purpose. A tendril pierced Gracia's right arm, another, her abdomen. She was however, fortunate, as the other passengers of her helicopter were dismembered. She barely had time to jump from the vehicle before it crashed. She fell 2 yards onto solid concrete. She felt immense pain as her right shoulder shattered on impact. She looked up to see Genocide's blade like appendages ripping through the other escape helicopters. She rolled onto her back and tried to steady herself. Within seconds her body began to repair itself. The nanocells inside her had saved her life but were now depleted. She would need another supplement lest she receive another fatal injury. The standard nanocells she and the others had were much less potent than those of the killers they faced. In truth, they had only minimal strength boosts being able to lift 5-8 more pounds than before and healing being limited to one or two fatal injuries so long as death didn't occur instantly. Gracia blacked out. She awoke the next morning in a hospital. There the doctors refilled her nanocells. She learned that the station had been left in ruins. Genocide had detonated some type of minature nuke following his rampage. He always blew up the stations as if to send a message. Gracia looked out the window thinking about why she became a cop. Twice her family had been murdered by them. Her biological family had been killed in an on record drug raid committed by a group of corrupt officers called The Unit. She had been adopted by another officer that arrived at the scene who found her as a child hiding in a closed. Sadly, he too was killed for trying to expose the activities of The Unit. Gracia joined the force to avenge both losses and bring justice to the killers that disguised themselves as normal people. Law enforcement was neither good, nor bad. It depended upon the people that made it up. In the dying corrupt world Gracia lived in, she vowed to be a beacon of light. Evans laid in a bed adjacent to Lary. "That damn Genocide's somethin else in' he?Like the stories you told us were understatements. That man could legit not die at this point in the story. Like he has friggin plot armor or somthin.'' Evans cut him off" I get it. We all got our asses handed to us. But did you see that ..thing that appeared next to him. Right before he created that black vortex that wiped us out. That must have something to do with his power. Maybe there's a still a way to stop him."Lary chimed in," That fella looked like he was on the way to a black metal concert wit all the black facepaint he was wearin' Creeped me out to be honest." As the survivors mulled over their predicament, the cycle of evil continued to spread elsewhere.
Budley flips through the pages of a magazine. He checks his watch. He looks around the gas station and doesn't see any customers. Seizing the opportunity, he puts in his headphones and begins playing an imaginary guitar as he jams to a progressive deathcore album. Oblivious to the screams coming from outside, the store clerk moves on to thumping two candy bars on the counter to simulate drums. Budley sees that his shift has ended and begins locking up the store. He sweeps the aisles and jumps as a shadow appears behind him. He turns and sees a well groomed bearded man dressed in a black hoodie, black shirt, and black and gray camo pants. The man holds out his hand and smiles. Budley rings up the pack of nicotine substitute gum. "Tryin to kick the habit huh?" Budley asks. The man replies, "Somethin like that. Gotta get my priorities back in check. Focus on the things that really matter. That damn KonCreep's a hell of a band aren't they?" He nods to the playlist on Budley's phone. "Yeah, they're killer. just got into them a month back." Budley answers. "You know, I'm something of a musician myself. Maybe you'll hear of me on the news someday." Jim Jimenez says as he sees himself out. He walks to the back of the building and passes an ominous form of graffiti. A woman lays unmoving and above her, written on concrete in red is a message that simply says "Genocide Reigns".

A couple of years ago I tried writing my own version of Stones Abbigale. I never got past the first couple scenes, but I'm considering returning to it. I wanted to basically rewrite and change up a lot of things, mainly focusing on Abbi and Davis and changing some elements. Let me know what you think!

1
It's almost four in the morning and Seth is threatening suicide again. Good. Fuck him. I hope he does it. I don't text him that because I read about this girl who told her boyfriend to kill himself. The irony was that when he actually did it she got charged with second degree murder. My life is fucked as it is I don't need to make it worse. It's almost two in the morning and I have to be up for school in a few hours. I’m shivering under my comforter because we’re halfway through November. I think about the turkey that won't get made this year and the family I won't see. I think that's swell. Seth is still texting.
Its like u dont even care after everything that happened and after everything we did together i saved ur life and i stayed with u when u cried and i hugged u and i did everything for u but that wasn't enough was it? i try so hard and all u ever are is a bitch to me that's not fair u want me to die and u hate me and u dont even care and im sick of it abbi why is is so hard for u to care about me?
I don't respond. I don't like how I feel about this. This should be easy. He won't actually do it. He won't. He’s too self involved to kill himself. I put my phone face down on my bed. The sheets shake around it as he sends message after message. I was sleeping on a ticking bomb so I got off of it. My feet stick to the floor, I struggle to step. I might as well have been standing barefoot on ice. I trudge to my window so I can see my street at night. Winter is really coming. You can't hear as many birds as you used to. They've all gone. They've all flown away. I can see three streetlights from where I’m standing. If you can from right to left you can see the concrete fracture into the sand. I open my window and brace for the chill. I stick my head outside. The ocean is not far away. I hear it hitting the shore over and over. Waves of water splashing incessantly, almost beating out my text notifications. The street lights flicker. I think of last summer. When Seth and I got really high after the news broke that my Mom was cheating on my Dad. I was making out with that bong. Emptying bowl after bowl, clanking the glass on the road to empty it out. Just thinking about it makes me feel the street pole against my back again. I was laughing and crying. Seth leaned in and hugged me. “I’m a sure thing,” he said. “I love you and I always will.” I caught my reflection in his sunglasses. I looked awful. I shiver at the memory. My phone is still buzzing. I try to catch my breath. I shut my window and start to walk back to my bed. A room always looks different in the dark. Maybe you think you know where you are, but there is always something that can jump out at you on the floor. Like a ghostly paper bag or a vengeful shoe. Objects that seem to move on their own with the sole drive of tripping you. I crawl back into bed. There's the phantom of Dad’s snoring . I know he's not sleeping in his room, he fell asleep on the couch after finishing his seventh fifth. Sometimes my brain fills in the gaps so I can hear it everywhere. Funnily, I haven't actually heard him snore since Mom left. That's the one thing I ever heard them fight about. Before she turned out to be a whore, I guess. BZZT.BZZT.BZZT. I can't bring myself to read any of his messages. They're coming so fast all the paragraphs are lost to motion blur. Seth’s arms wrap around me and I think about the beating of his heart and the warmth of his lips against my skin. I open up the texts, ready to respond.
I love you
I text this over and over until I fall asleep.
Davis was the only senior on the bus. Somehow, everyone else had a car or a ride. It’s all right, though. James would probably give him one if he had a car, but he skated to school every morning. That's why he barely ever rode the bus with him. The bus thumped along the under paved roads. Davis forgot his earbuds at home, so the only music that accompanied him was his racing thoughts. Two sophomore girls popped their heads over. “Ohmigod, Davis!” One of them shrieked.. “As I live and breathe,” he smiled. “Nice,” she said. “I’m so excited to see your finished painting.” Davis took the lower level art class for a requirement. Like most things, he's not taking it very seriously. For their pop art unit, he's painting a portrait of the art teacher with a warthog face. It's one of his funny disruptions. He knows Mrs. Stanley is going to have a real field day with it, but it doesn't matter. Artistic liberties, he’d profess. “She's such a bitch, isn't she?” The sophomore girl turns to her compatriot, who only nods in response. “She's just jealous,” Davis says. “It must be depressing to teach art and see the youth soar above her.” “For sure,” the girl doesn't get it. Class clown is a semi-heavy burden. Davis doesn't really feel like talking to these girls, but his position demands it. Comedy informs everything about him. To the giant thrift store jeans, to the loud Hawaiian shirt. He and James are the ultimate combination, at least he likes to think so. Quiet brooding begs for bright distraction. The girl is still trying to talk to him and Davis is saying his preprogrammed lines. The bus stops in front of James’s street. Surprisingly, James is standing there. “Like I’m this close to just filling my hydroflask with vodka, yaknow?” says the chick. Maybe she's just trying to get a rise out of him. “Better be prepared to give me more than a sip,” Davis is watching James grumble towards the bus. The sun is beating down on the forming ice puddles. James stomps through them with small shattering steps. James turns up the bus aisle and plops in the seat next to Davis. Davis’s smile is genuine now, but he fights it from getting too wide. “Crash your vehicle?” Davis asks. “Something like it,” there's something off with him. Davis doesn't want to push it. “Well damn, hope insurance covers it,” Davis wants James to break and laugh. Is it just another mood or did something actually happen this time? “It won't, I got bad credit,” James grins and it's like heaven. “What's the move for you today?” “Surviving art and physics for me,” says Davis. “Those bastards love to keep me down.” “Who doesn't,” James eyes the girls who have since returned to whatever they were doing before. It's the judgement stare, as Davis calls it. James likes to observe his peers like a zoo-goer. Breaking them down to taxonomic types. Davis likes to think that James doesn't do this to him, but he knows he probably does. “It sucks you decided to be bad at school and take baby art,” James is still dissecting the sophomore girls down to their tropes. “We could have done Art II together.” “I wouldn't want to get between you and Alex. I know how you love it when people piss in jars next to you.” “That's disgusting,” James breaks his glare at the girls. “It's performance art, it's beautiful,” Davis gets up out of his seat to yell. “Everyone witness the wonderful work of Alex Madov! Disengage yourself from the shackles of capitalism by shouting with me: Poopy, pee pee, poop!” Davis gets a few chuckles from the other kids on the bus. “Sit down, fatso,” mumbles the bus driver. “I will not be silenced! I’m a messenger of the good word, sir!” “More of this shit and I’m skipping your stop!” “Fine, but I will make Alex remember on the day of judgement,” Davis sits back down. James is full belly laughing. “You're so retarded,” James wheezes. Davis can't even come back with a response. He's high off of it.
The bus pulls into the school lot with a short stop. The mobs get up and begin to race out. Davis follows James down the line. “You know Abbi?” James asks. Davis feels a little pit form in his stomach, but he doesn't change his expression. “Vaguely, what about her?” “She's in my art class,” James begins. “And I think … well you know, I’m going to talk to her.” He walks down the steps and out the door. “Doesn't she have a boyfr-” before Davis can descend the driver's arm blocks him. “I’ve had enough of your shit, kid,” he says. “If you keep being obnoxious, I’m gonna find a way to make you pay for it.” James looks back, but he can't stay. Davis knows that he's gotta get to class. James does a little wave goodbye and Davis salutes him. “Are you even listening to me?” the bus driver seethes. “Yes, sir. Divine retribution, got it.” Davis ducks underneath his arm and exits the bus. James has already disappeared into the crowd.
I pass the bong to Ashley. She starts another bowl. She’s the transport and I provide the material. The little things that keep our friendship afloat. I look at the clock in her car. “It's 8:45,” I pick a piece of bagel out of my teeth. “So that's it, we officially missed first period,” Ashley tops it off. “They won't mark us, you know. It's a study.” “Yeah, but when's the last time we signed in? I heard they're changing the policy again. Do you still have the lighter?” I toss it to her. I don't get it. It's always her idea to pick me up so we can smoke before school, why now is she suddenly caring about attendance? “We're pretty girls, we can get out of it. I’m next,” I tap on the clock. “Are you sure it's not fast?” She shakes her head as she takes a snap. We're parked in the pond area a block or two from the school. It's our designated smoking spot. I like it, even at the end of fall it's pretty. I’m so engrossed that I don't realize her tip out the bowl and put it back in the cup holder. “I don't know if it's wise to keep up the activity, we should probably get going soon,” she starts up her car again. “Okay,” I say. She reverses and swings out of the lot. We lean into the silence and it's super weird. “Seth texted me last night,” I wait for her reaction. “Oh,” she grimaces. “What did you say?” “That I loved him.” Silence again. Ashley's trying to put together something well-meaning while understanding that I’ll probably ignore whatever she has to say. “Abbi, I’m not trying to tell you how to run your life, but …” Her expression is now quizzical. She's said what she is about to say a number of different ways all ready. She thinks and thinks and decides to say nothing. Good call, I would have screamed at her. Not because what she thinks about my situation isn't true, I’m just in a ‘screaming at people mood’ because of it. “I’m going to dye my hair again,” she changes the subject to avoid conflict. Classic Ash. “Oh yeah? What color this time?” “I don't know,” she checks her reflection in the rear view. “The red has faded out, maybe blue or pink this time.” “You should go with a softer pink,” I say. “Since you're a soft spring.” “Yeah, maybe.” We enter the school lot. “Listen, do you want to get together when I do it? Maybe you can dye your hair too.” “I don't know, I might be busy,” I say. “Seth might want to do something,” I pause for her to protest. “Okay,” she says. She parks and we get out.
I barrel into art class. I don't care if I reek, out of all the teachers I can tell Mrs. Stanley smokes the most. It would be hypocritical of her to care. It looks like I’m the first one. Weird. I check my phone. It's 8:45. Well, fuck. Looks like Ashley needs to fix her clock. Mrs. Stanley is at her desk. She looks at me knowingly. “Eager to create today, Abbi?” I just nod and sit at my desk. I’m really feeling it. I open up my precalc notebook and just start sketching. Birds, eyes, trees, whatever. Kids start coming in. Their chatter echoes around me, I try to focus on what I’m doing. Someone bumps into my table. I look up. It's this lanky blonde kid, I think his name is James. He presses his hands underneath the desk as he leans up to talk to me. “Eww!” He shouts. Some kids turn and laugh. I don't. I just stare at him. James goes red and sits next to the kid who pissed in a jar. Once an adequate amount of students are in the room, Mrs. Stanley starts her lesson slideshow. On the screen is a dirty urinal. “How many of you are familiar with this work by Marcel DuChamp?” she asks. At this point, Jason, the designated meathead jock, enters the room. “Sorry I’m late, Mrs. S,” he booms. He looks at the slide. “We building bathrooms today?” Mrs. Stanley glares at him. “Wouldn't you like that? Considering you spend all of your time in there.” “Whatever,” Jason brushes his mullet behind his ears. “No, not whatever. Would you like me to move you into the sophomore class with Davis? Believe it or not he's getting much better marks than you are getting in here.” Jason rolls his eyes and takes his place in the chair next to me. “Up to a little extra curricular activities before art, Abbi?” he motions a joint in his fingers. I scoff and go on my phone. There's another text from Seth.
sorry about last night
and
im reading it all right now that was fucked im sorry
I start to respond, but before I can Mrs. Stanley outstretches her hand. “Give me your phone, Miss Hagerty. I’m sick of giving you warnings.” I don't have the energy to fight, I just give it to her. “You can pick it up at the end of the day.” My jaw actually drops. Jason must have really set her off, she's not usually such a cunt to me. “Anyways, found art. What is it? Well, found art is the use of everyday objects to convey an altered meaning. It can be something you find on the street or something that once held value to you. For example, My Bed by Tracey Elim.” She pulls up a picture of a messy bed that looks suspiciously like my own. “So for your final unit of the semester, you will be making your own found art. I really want you to take this project a little more seriously than most of you have been taking this class. I’m giving you the privilege of picking your own partners, but I’d like to remind you to be thoughtful with your choice. This will be worth more for your grade.” I look around. I don't have any friends here. I toy around with the idea of asking Jason for convenience and he looks like he's about to pull that move. Behind me there's that James guy. He’s sheepishly looking at me. He seems kind of nice. Okay. I don't feel like getting up so I just turn around in my chair. “Hey James, wanna be partners?” He balks a bit and then smiles at me. “Yeah, totally,” He's beaming and it's somewhat endearing. Alex and I switch seats and now I’m next to him. “I’m gonna be real with you …” I begin. He stops and shifts a little. “I have no idea what we're supposed to be doing for this.” He regards me oddly. Like he's trying to piece me together. It doesn't bother me. “She said we have to bring in an object that's special to us and present it artistically basically,” he rubs his chin. Damn, I must be baked to hell. I didn't hear her saying that at all. “So got any stuffed animals we can cut up and make Lovecraftian monstrosities out of?” “I got a hamster cage, hold the hamster,” I say. It comes out kind of weird and I probably sound stupid, but he doesn't seem to care. “Let's make a fucking zoo.” “Perfect!” He’s kind of cute actually. In a way. Something about this feels fun. I realize the bell will ring soon. “So um,” I rip out a page of my precalc notebook, still fresh with my drawings. I scrawl out my number and push it to him. “Call me so we can figure out the project some more.” I pack up all my stuff and start to head out. I can feel him watching me and it's not that bad. “I sure will,” he says. Everything feels really groovy. There's a lightness now. I’m halfway out the door when I remember my phone. I can't believe that I just forgot about Seth. I think about begging for my phone, but I feel too above that. Still, something shakes the good feeling as the bell rings.

So first thanks to all who responded to my other post with my barrage of questions - your responses were super helpful! I decided to cast my search net a little wider late last week and found a 2022 Preferred that was 3 hours away with 38K km on it (so a little less than average here in Canada). Spoke with the salesperson who handles Internet traffic and he described it in 9/10 condition so I decided to drive up this past weekend and take a look. I was not disappointed and condition-wise, it was exceptionally good, far better than the one I had seen already. The price was reasonable as well, and I managed to get them down a bit, so I put a deposit on it Saturday. Fast forward to today, everything is moving forward and looks like I'll be picking it up on Saturday (!). So lots of phone calls, coordinating, etc. as well as trying to list my Santa Fe online.
As others have noted based on what I've read, I have some extended warranty options available. I went with the Certified Pre-Owned extra year right away on Saturday, which takes me to Oct 2026. I also have the option of adding on another 1 or 2 years on top of that for < $5/month for each additional year so will likely go with one of those for peace of mind.
The thing I wasn't aware of was the option for a one-time rustproofing application, which warranties the car against rust from the inside out for 6 years. Then there is also a paint sealant option, as well as interior protection options. For those not familiar with the options, there is a Gold package (rust, paint sealant, surface rust protection) for $30/month in my payment; and a Platinum package (rust, paint sealant, surface rust protection, and interior protection) for $44/month.
I am typically the kind of person who does NOT go for any extended warranty of any kind (the CPO had the extra benefit of much better financing rates in addition to the extra year). But as I look at my 2011 Santa Fe and the rust it now has, I am rethinking my position. Though admittedly, leaning more on the side of not going for the package options but just going with one of the main extended warranty options.
Curious if others have gone or not gone for these packages and why. Would love to hear your opinions! Thanks in advance!

Im bored. Heres a silly idea to dislike.

Subclass Themes

With the darkness subclasses being based on mental states, I took the ideology of the id, ego, and super ego to be the darkness elements. I took the ego to be stasis as you are forcing your will into reality and overriding the will of others. I understood the superego to be strand. Understanding the world around you, the complexity and the conections of it all, the restrictions and necessity of reality. That leaves the id. Desires and instinct. Fantasies and dreams. Compulsions.
Another theme that had to be included was that of opposition. Strand is about creation and void is about absence. Solar and stasis, while much more complicated than fire and ice, do oppose each other in more meaningful ways. Arc is all about mobility, energy, adapting, and change. The opposite would be complacency. Sloth. Giving in to your desires.
The last requirements would be to have anti-barrier perks and anti-overload perks. This was the simplest and could be flavored in any which way, with anti barrier having some sort of buff, and anti overload having some sort of debuff.
With this I introduce Soul, a form of darkness that takes the shape of a dark red liquid. Names could all use some work.

Verbs

Seethe (Debuff): Soul seeps into enemies minds revealing their anger. Form of cc that has non-boss units attack nearby enemies. Combatants affected cant discern between friend or foe. Enemy guardians afflicted have friendly fire enabled and increased recoil. Reticles will slowly shift towards allies within ? meters.
Despair (Debuff): Soul clouds your head. Prevents any health gain during affliction. Enemies take damage over time. Ends with a burst of damage. Strong against overloads.
Wrath (Buff): Release your inner fury. Weapons are empowered dealing increased damage based on targets missing health. Capped at 35%. Strong against Barrier champions.
Envy (Buff): Enemy accuracy towards buffed targets is reduced based on distance. Closer enemies are more likely to miss shots. Melee damage received is reduced.
Harrow (Class Pickup): Soul matter coalesces on the floor in large red pools after killing debuffed targets. Enemies standing on Harrow take minor damage. Interacts with aspects and fragments. Armor charge works off time spent on Harrow.

Disclaimer

I was more focused on ideology. I have yet to refine ideas but aspects, melees, and supers allow for a lot of creativity of which i am lacking atm. If you have any suggestions, changes or anything let me know. Change the verbs or the whole damn thing, just want any sort of discussion. No its not serious nor do I think there is any chance of this.

Hunter

Mind Tap (Melee): Throw an ice pick. Headshots cause targets to Seethe. Bodyshots cause Despair.
Merciless (Aspect): While Wrathful heal for a very small portion of the damage dealt to Despairing targets. Despair will spread between close enemies.
Paranoia (Aspect): Dodging while standing on Harrow puddles lets the hunter dissolve into Soul matter becoming untargetable, gain heavy damage resist, and be able to move through units. While in Paranoia gain Wrathful. Gain 200% increased melee regen and movement speed. Offensive actions pull you out. Displayed as large waves moving inside.
Paint it Red (Aspect): Damaging Despairing targets releases Harrow. Has a short cooldown.
Hemophobia (Super): Explode into a massive puddle of Soul matter leaving Harrow around you. Does increased Harrow damage. Light attack throws ice picks that cause despair. Deals more damage to targets on Harrow. Heavy Attack dashes forward dealing light damage. Dodge refreshes on use.

Titan

Menacing Strike(Melee): Summon a massive maw from your hand inflicting Despair in a small aoe. Hits grant Wrath.
Unholy Soul (Aspect): Standing in Harrow puddles slowly provides health and Envy. Kills on Harrow refresh the duration and increase the size of the pool.
Terror (Aspect): Soul kills charge up a meter. When fully charged your next powered melee will deal 3x damage, have much more range, grant damage resistance, and grant Envy for a brief period. Melee charge is separate from the standard (think gunpowder gamble).
Finality (Aspect): Powered melee final blows while Wrathful refresh 90% of melee energy. Using your aerial move will slam down releasing Harrow and refilling active weapons. Costs melee energy.
Sorrow (Super): Whip around chains before tossing them at the target enemy. Enemy erupts in massive damage Despairing all nearby combatants and releasing Harrow. After a delay the target erupts again, taking damage based on the damage taken during the super.

Warlock

Dread (Melee): Shoot forward a cloud, raining and Despairing all enemies hit along the way. At max distance or on large targets the cloud lingers.
Agnosiophobia (Aspect): While grounded; press your air move to vanish, reappearing at a Harrow covered point of your choice. Emerging and departing causes a Despairing and Envious aoe. Large amounts of Harrow are released at the point that you left. Standing on Harrow gives you 100% grenade regen rate.
Mind Flayer (Aspect): Seething lasts longer on enemies. Seething enemies that die near you release parasites that travel to all unaffiliated enemies standing in connected Harrow.
Tides of War (Aspect): Activating melee will release a tsunami of Harrow in an aoe a bit larger than consecration. Enemies hit by the raging wave take massive damage and are Seethed. Wave leaves Harrow in its wake.
Beast Within (Super): Coat yourself in Soul Matter and emerge in a different form. A massive centipede with increased movement speed and trample damage. Light attack stops you, before lunging at enemies. Heavy attack is a massive charged leap. If charged all the way gain distance and release Harrow where you land. Press grenade to spit Despair at enemies

Grenades

Harrow Grenade: Can bounce. On detonation releases Harrow. Enemies hit will leave Harrow in their wake.
Bunkering Grenade: Sticks to surfaces but not enemies. When deployed projects a ring. Allies standing within the ring gain Envy. Enemies within Despair.
Winding Grenade: On hitting an enemy or surface releases 3 bolts, quickly striking the nearest enemies in rage. Enemies hit Seethe.

Hi there, welcome to my post! Feel free to make an offer for anything listed :D
The Boring Stuff: - Items come from a non-smoking home, and are all new / never used unless noted. Used items have photos showing usage. - Prices exclude shipping & insurance, to be calculated to your zip code ($5+).

ISO List

(trades only, not looking to purchase at this time. Will also look at lists!)

• Imaginary Authors: A City on Fire, Memoirs of a Trespasser, O Unknown, Saint Julep, Whispered Myths
  
• Too Faced mini Gingerbread Spice palette
  
• Too Faced mini Salted Caramel palette
  
• Tetris x Ipsy brushes
  
• Christophe Robin Regenerating Hair Mask - FS or multiple minis from beauty boxes
  
• Necromancy Cosmetica lipsticks in Ancient Queen, Lydia, Solis Mortem, or Ophidian
  
• Try me on lip scrubs (new please)
  
• Pat McGrath Subversive palette (also interested in other gold PM items)
  
• Lalique fragrances: Fleur Universelle, Or Intemporel, Silver, Zamak, and Zinc
  
• Jo Malone fragrances: particularly interested in Bloomsbury (non-floral - Leather & Artemisia, Tobacco & Mandarin, and Whiskey & Cedarwood) and Ginger Biscuit, but try me
  
• Zoologist samples
  
• Marc Jacobs fragrances: Ginger Cocktail
  
• Diptyque fragrances: Eau Lente and Eau Duelle
  
• Ginger / clove forward fragrances in general...if someone has a decant of CB I hate perfume Gingerbread that would be awesome
  

Palettes, Kits, and Sets

Anastasia Beverly Hills eyeshadow singles, listed L-R, top then bottom. $25 for the 4 shadows, or priced individually below: - ABH eyeshadow single in Wine, full size, swatched - $8 - ABH eyeshadow single in Surface of the Sun, full size, swatched - $8 - ABH eyeshadow single in Chocolate Crumble, full size, new - $8 - ABH eyeshadow single in Metal, full size, swatched - $8
Benefit Greeting From Cabana Glama DesTANation Makeup Kit, used as shown - $15
Karl Lagerfeld x ModelCo Minaudière with Mini Lip Kit, full size, NIB P - $100 Includes: - Minaudière hard clutch / makeup bag, with attachable (heavy) chain to use as a shoulder bag and dust bag - Full-size Lip Liner in Rosewood (0.05 oz.) - 2 Mini Lip Glosses in Ramatuelle and St Tropez Sunset (0.04 oz. each) - 2 Mini Lipsticks in Kate and Stella (0.05 oz. each)
Flesh Starshine eyeshadow palette, full size, new. Open. Back of palette. - $20
Kat von D Shade + Light eyeshadow palette in Plum, full size, used 2x as shown. Back of palette. - $10
Make Up For Ever MUFE 9 artist shadow palette Volume 4 (shades 100, 842, 240, 620, 806, 536, 126, 546, 530), full size, used 2x as shown. Back of palette. - $25
Smith & Cult Book of Eyes quad palette in Noonsuite (bronzey), full size, NIB - $25
Tarte Be Your Own Tarteist Eye & Cheek Palette, used as shown - $20
Urban Decay Naked Cherry palette, full size, NIB - $40

Eyes

Brows:
Anastasia Beverly Hills ABH Clear Brow Gel, travel size (2.5ml), NIB - $7
ModelCo More Brows in Light / Medium, Full Size - $10
Ulta Brow Tint in Medium, full size, new - $6
Eyeliner:
BareMinerals Lasting Line Long-wearing Eye Liner in Absolute Black, Full Size, New - $10
Beauty For Real I-Line 24-7 Eyeliner in Black Magic, full size, new - $10
Estée Lauder Automatic Eye Pencil Duo Refill in Charcoal, full size, NIB - $10
Lancome Drama Liqui-Pencil in Noir Intense, Travel Size, .018oz - $5
Laura Geller I-Care Waterproof Eyeliner in Charcoal, Full Size - $10
NYX Jumbo Eye Pencil in Milk (white), full size, new - $3
Sephora Waterproof Contour Eye Pencil in 33 Love Affair (plum), new, travel size (.017oz) - $3
Stila Smudge Stick Waterproof Eyeliner in Stingray (jet black), full size, NIB - $15
Tarte Sex Kitten Eyeliner in Black, travel size (half size, .0035oz), new - $8
Ulta Dual-Ended Liner, in Halo & Black/Brown, Full Size - $3
Victoria's Secret Very Sexy Sparkling Eyeliner in Blacklight, Full Size, cracked cap used 2x - $5
Eyeshadow:
Kat Von D KVD Metal Crush Eyeshadow in Thunderstruck (warm white gold), full size (.1oz), swatched - $12
Laura Geller Baked Marble Eyeshadow in Amethyst, full size, new - $12
Maybelline Expert Wear Eyeshadow in Amethyst Smokes, used 3x - $2
NYC HD Color Trio Eye Shadow in Late Night Latte, Full Size, used 5x - $2
NYX Prismatic Eyeshadow Single in Punk Heart (plum with purple shimmer), full size, used as shown - $3
Trestique Color and Smudge Shadow Crayon in Marimoto Pink Pearl, full size, NIB - $15
Ulta Eye Shadow singles Duo in Petite (light beige matte) and Beauty Junkie (mauve glitter), both full size (.06oz), both new - $8 for the pair
Ulta Eye Shadow Palette in Lace, Charm, Nostalgia, Vintage, Delicate, and Seaside, .21oz, new - $6
Lashes:
Eyelure London Limited Edition Party Lashes in Snow Princess, full size, NIB - $3
Wet n Wild Fantasy Makers Blue Glow in the Dark Lashes, full size, NIB - $2
Mascara:
BellaPierre Volume Lash Waterproof Mascara, full size, new & sealed - $10
Butter London Double Decker Lashes Mascara in Black, travel size (.18oz), NIB - $6
Clinique Chubby Lash Mascara in 01 Jumbo Jet (black), travel size (4ml), NIB - $5
Clinique High Impact Mascara in black, half size (.15oz), new - $10
Clinique Lash Power Flutter-to-Full Mascara in 01 Black Onyx, travel size, new - $8
Estée Lauder Sumptuous Knockout Mascara in 01 Black, travel size (.09oz), new - $10
Julep Length Matters Mascara in Jet Black, travel size (.2oz), NIB - $8
Laura Geller StyleLASH Intense Lengthening Mascara, FS (.33oz), NWOB - $14
Maybelline Great Lash Mascara in Black, travel size (.15oz), new - $2
Pur Big Look Mascara with Argan oil, full size (.12oz), new - $6
Ulta Amped Lashes Mascara in Jet Black, full size, new - $6
Ulta Beauty Maximum Lashes Defining and Lengthening Mascara, full size, new - $6

Lips

Lip Gloss, Balms, & Stains:
ChapStick Lip Butter in Green Tea Mint, full size, NIB - $2
First Aid Beauty FAB Ultra Repair Lip Therapy, full size (.5oz), new - $8
Jane Iredale SPF 15 Lip Drink Lip Balm in Flirt (sheer pink), full size, NIB - $10
MAC Vamplify Lip Gloss in Suggestive, FS, new - $12
Mally Beans High Shine Lip Gloss in Pilar Bean, DS (.07oz), new - $6
NYC City Proof Extended Wear Lip Gloss in Mauving All Night #458, Full Size - $3
Philosophy High-Gloss Lip Shine in Fresh Cream, full size (.4oz), new and sealed - $6
Pur Chrome Glaze High-Shine Lip Gloss In DIY (pinky nude), full size (0.07 oz), NIB - $10
Ulta Double Duty Lip Stain and Balm in Drama (Dark Red), full size, new - $4
Ulta Double Duty Lip Stain and Balm in Romance (Pink), full size, new - $4
Urban Decay Revolution Lip Gloss in Savage (bright pink), travel size (.05oz), new - $5
Whole Foods organic lip balm in Peppermint, full size, new and sealed - $1
Whole Foods organic lip balm in Pomegranate Orange, full size, new and sealed - $1
Whole Foods organic lip balm in Tangerine, full size, new and sealed - $1
Victoria's Secret Beauty Rush Lip Balm in Minty Kiss, Full Size - $3
Lip Liners & Primers:
Kat Von D Everlasting Lip Liner in Homegirl, full size (.25g), used 2x as shown - $10
Milani Color Statement Lip Liner in 02 True Red, full size, new - $2
Tarte Tarteist Lip Crayon in Thirsty (bright red), .01oz, NIB - $10
Lipstick - Liquid:
Julep It's Whipped Matte Lip Mousse in At Midnight (Fireball Red Matte), full size (.14oz), new - $10 for 1, $16 for 2
Julep It's Whipped Matte Lip Mousse in Love Potion (Bronzed Black Metallic Matte), full size (.14oz), new P - $10 for 1, $16 for 2
Julep It's Whipped Matte Lip Mousse in Pillow Talk (Victorian Pink Matte), full size (.14oz), new - $10 for 1, $16 for 2
Julep It's Whipped Matte Lip Mousse in Say Hello (Rich Marsala Matte), full size (.14oz), new - $10 for 1, $16 for 2
Julep It's Whipped Matte Lip Mousse in XOXO (Femme Fuchsia Matte), full size (.14oz), new - $10 for 1, $16 for 2
Laura Geller Lip Silk Liquid Lipstick in French Kiss (soft pink), full size, new - $10
Maybelline Color Sensational Vivid Matte Liquid Lip Color in Nude Flush , Full Size, swatched 1x - $3
NYX Suede Cream Liquid Lipstick in Orange County (bright orange), travel size (.05oz), new - $4, or 2/$6
NYX Suede Cream Liquid Lipstick in Pink Lust (bright pink), travel size (.05oz), new - $4, or 2/$6
NYX Cosmetics Soft Matte Lip Cream in Transylvania (deep wine), full size (0.27 oz), new - $4, or 2/$6
OCC Lip Tar in Disintegration (pale plum metallic), full size, NIB - $12
OCC Lip Tar in Hoochie (magenta / purple), full size, NIB - $12
Tarte Lip Sculptor, Lipstick & Lipgloss, in VIP (cool nude), travel size (1.5g lipstick 1ml lipgloss), new - $10
Tarte Tarteist Lip Paint in Bae (red), full size, new - $13
Lipstick - Bullet & Pencil:
Almay Demi-Sheer Creme Lipcolor in 80 Demi Mauve, full size, used 3x as shown - $8
Bite Beauty Luminous Creme Lipstick Topper, no shade listed but a shimmery bronze, full size, new - $18
Bite Beauty High Pigment Pencil in Rhubarb, full size (.09oz), used 1x - $10
Bite Beauty Matte Cream Lipstick in Barberry (cool dark plum), full size, used as shown - $16
DCA Lipstick in No. 108, full size, used 2x as shown - $4
Estée Lauder All-Day Lipstick in Ancient Brick, full size, swatched as shown - $12
Estée Lauder Pure Color Envy Sculpting Lipstick in Irresistible, full size (.12oz), new P - $15
Illamasqua Glamour Lipstick in Tease (pale Nude), full size, used 3x - $12
Kat Von D Studded Kiss Lipstick in Homegirl (satin matte berry), travel size (.04oz), used as shown - $6
Kat Von D Studded Kiss Lipstick in Poe (cool metallic blue), full size, NIB - $12
Kat Von D Studded Kiss Lipstick in Roxy (purple), mini size (1g), used 1x as shown - $6
Korres Matte Twist Lipstick in Tempting Coral, full size (.05oz), new - $10
Lancome Rouge Absolu Lipstick in Rose Espace, full size, used 3x as shown - $12
Laura Geller Color Brilliance Lustrous Lipstick in Cute, full size, new - $12
Laura Geller Italian Marble lipstick in Strawberry Toffee, full size, new - $12
MAC Retro Matte Lipstick in Flat Out Fabulous (bright pink/purple), full size, new - $12
Makeup Academy Lipstick in Persian Rose (bright pink), full size, used 1x - $3
Makeup Revolution Scandalous Lipstick in Depraved (violet), full size, used 1x - $3
NARS Velvet Matte Lip Pencil in 413 BLKR (fuchsia), full size (.08oz), new - $16
NARS Velvet Matte Lip Pencil in Let's Go Crazy (cool fuchsia), 3/4 size (1.8g, FS is 2.4g), new - $10
Nudestix Magnetic Matte Lip Color in Greystone (greige), .088oz (FS is .1oz), new - $12
NYC Lipstick in Fragile Pink, Full Size - used as shown - $2
NYC Ultra Moist Lip Wear in Blossom #316, Full Size, Used 2x - $2
NYC Ultra Moist Lip Wear in Ruby #305, Full Size, Used 2x - $2
Sephora Collection Rouge Cream in #49 Belly-Dancing (red), mini (.03oz, FS is .14) - $2
Smashbox Be Legendary Cream Lipstick in Inspiration (cool fuchsia), .08oz (FS is .1oz), new - $10, or 2/$15
Smashbox Be Legendary Cream Lipstick in Legendary (cool red), .08oz (FS is .1oz), new - $10, or 2/$15
Smashbox Be Legendary Cream Lipstick in Tabloid (cool violet), .08oz (FS is .1oz), new - $10, or 2/$15
Ulta Lipstick in Cherry Picked 202 (medium true red), Full Size, Used 1x - $4
Urban Decay x Gwen Stefani lipstick in Spiderweb (satin red cream), full size, NIB - $12
Urban Decay Matte Revolution Lipstick in Temper (red-orange), full size, NIB - $12
Urban Decay Vice Lipstick in Phone Call (bright pink with cream finish), full size, NIB - $10
Wander Beauty Wanderout Dual Lipstick in Wanderberry (rich burgundy), half size (.07oz), new - $10
Winky Lux Matte Lip Velour in Royal (purple), .14oz, NIB - $10

Face

Blush:
Lancome Blush Subtil in in Rose Fresque, full size (.18oz), used as shown - $12
Ulta Cheek Palette in Fresh Glow Highlighter and Nude Pink Blush, .155oz, new - $5
Bronzer & Contour:
BareMinerals BareSkin Serum Bronzer in Sheer Sun, Travel Size (.1oz) - $3
St. Tropez One Night Only Finishing Gloss, travel size (.16oz), new - $2
Foundations, Concealers, CC Cream, & Powders:
Bee Naturals Tinted Moisturizer in Shade 2 (Medium/Dark), Full Size (1oz) - 1/$15 or 2/$20
Benefit Porefessional Pore Minimizing Makeup in Shade 1, travel size (.16oz), new - $10
Dermablend Loose Setting Powder, travel size (.11oz), new - $10
Jane Iredale Smooth Affair, travel size (.24oz), new - $8
Julep Cushion Complexion concealer 5-in-1 Skin Perfector with Turmeric in 200 Nude, full size, NIB - $18
Laura Geller Balance-N-Brighten Baked Foundation in Medium, full size, new - $15
Laura Mercier Translucent Loose Setting Powder, travel size (.12oz), new - $6
Pixi by Petra Beauty Bronzer in Summertime, Travel Size, .16oz - $4
Highlighters:
Laura Geller Baked Gelato Lace Illuminator in Ballerina, full size, new - $15
Laura Geller Baked Golden Rose Highlighter, full size, new - $12
P/Y/T Upgrade Highlighter in Backstage Pass (warm shimmer nude), .07oz, NIP - $8
Primers & Setting Sprays:
Becca First Light Priming Filter, travel size (.2oz), NIB - $7
Japonesque Velvet Touch Primer, travel size (.3oz), new - $8
Laura Geller Spackle Even Tone Primer, travel size (.5oz), new - $6
Pur Correcting Primer, travel size (.3oz), new - $10
Too Faced Hangover 3-in-1 Face Primer & Setting Spray, travel size (.06oz), NIB - $4
Too Faced Hangover Replenishing Face Primer, travel size (.16oz), NIB - $4
Urban Decay All Nighter Long Lasting Makeup Spray, travel size (.5oz), new - $6

Skincare & Body

BareMinerals Skinlongevity Vital Power Infusion, full size (1.7oz), new - $35
Bliss Leave it to Cleavage, Travel Size, .5oz - $4
Bliss Triple Oxygen Instant Energizing Foaming Mask, new, travel size (.16oz) - $3
Clinique Dramatically Different Moisturizing Gel, new, Travel Size (.5oz) - $4
Clinique 7 Day Scrub Cream, travel size (1oz), new - $5
Daily Concepts Exfoliating Body Scrubber - $5
Elizabeth Arden Prevage Daily Anti-Aging Serum, Travel Size, .17oz - $8
Erborian Bamboo Creme Frappe Skin Reviving Gel, new, travel size (.17oz) - $4
Estée Lauder Advanced Night Micro Cleansing Foam, travel size (1oz), new - $6
Estée Lauder Revitalizing Supreme+ Global Anti-Aging Cell Power Creme, .5oz, new - $15
First Aid Beauty FAB Facial Radiance Intensive Peel, travel size (.34oz), new - $6
First Aid Beauty FAB Ultra Repair Cream, travel size (1oz), new - $6
First Aid Beauty FAB Ultra Repair Cream Intense Hydration in Honeysuckle, travel size (1oz), new - $6
First Botany Cosmeceuticals 50X Strength Hyaluronic Acid Serum, .5oz, new - $8
MAC Cleanse Off Oil, travel size (.2oz), new - $4
Milk Makeup Sunshine Oil, Sample, .1oz - $2
Murad Age Reform Nutrient-Charged Water Gel, travel size (.25oz), NIB - $10
Omorovicza Budapest Magic Moisture Mist, full size (1.7oz), NIB - $65
Omorovicza Balancing Moisturizer, full size (30ml), new - $50
Perricone MD Blue Plasma Cleansing Treatment (gentle cleanser), travel size (2oz), new - $18
Perricone MD Cold Plasma Plus + Eye Cream, travel size (.25oz), new - $30
Proactiv Skin Purifying Mask, travel size (1oz), NIB - $10
Shiseido Ultimune Power Infusing Concentrate, travel size (.33oz), new - $15
Strivectin TL Advanced Light Tightening Neck Cream, travel size (.25oz), NIB - $10
Toulon Mineral Infusion Serum-92, 1oz - $6
Whish Self-Tanner, Travel Size (.75oz) - $2

Hair / Tools / Nail Polish / Etc

Alterna Haircare Caviar Anti-Aging Miracle Volume Mist, travel size (1.4oz), new - $6
Bumble & Bumble BB Pret-a-Powder, travel size (.5oz), used 1x - $8
Essie Nail Lacquer in Say it Aint Soho (metallic copper), full size, new - $5
Fatboy Spray Putty, full size (4.8oz), new - $15
Julep Color Treat Polish in It Girl Lillian (pink creme), full size, new - $8
Living Proof TBD Multi-Tasking Styler, travel size (1oz), new - $7
OPI Nail Lacquer in Can i Bairro This Shade (dusty teal), full size, new - $5
OPI Nail Lacquer in The Taupe of the Iceberg, full size, new - $5
Phyto Paris Phytoelixir Cleansing Care Hair Cream, travel size (1oz), new - $8
Phyto Paris Intense Hydrating Brilliance Mask (Dry Hair Phytojoba), 1.7oz, NIB - $8
Matrix Total Results Miracle Creator Multi-Tasking Treatment, travel size (1oz), new - $3
Urban Decay Heavy Metal loose glitter in Reverb (blue), full size (.10oz), NIB - $10

Fragrance

Full Size
Aromachology Exotic & Spicy EDP, full size (1.7oz), used 1x - $40
Jo Malone English Oak & Redcurrant Cologne, full size (3.4 oz), sprayed 1x - $100
Penhaligon's Heartless Helen, full size (75ml) in box, used 3x - $160
Ralph Lauren Polo Sport for Women, used as shown - $12
Travel Size
Armani Air di Gioia EDP, travel size spray (.5oz - bigger than a rollerball), NIB - $20
Armani Sky di Gioia EDP, travel size spray bottle (.5oz - bigger than a rollerball), NIB - $20
Bvlgari Au The Rouge EDC, travel size (.17oz), used 2x - $10
Candie's Candie's EDT, travel size (.5oz), about 60% remaining - $5
Lush All Good Things solid perfume, travel size (12g), used 1x as shown - $15
Origins Ginger Essence Sensuous Skin Scent, travel size (.5 oz), used as shown (about 80% remaining) - $12
Philosophy Pure Grace EDT spray, travel size (.5oz), NIB - $15
Samples 3/$5
Atelier Cologne Vanilla Insensée Cologne Absolue, sample size + postcard, new - $3
Burberry Mr. Burberry EDT, sample size (2ml), new - $2
Calvin Klein Eternity for Men EDT, sample size (1.2ml), new - $2
Clean for Men Classic EDT, sample size (1ml), new - $2
Versace Eros EDT, sample size (1ml), new - $2
Viktor & Rolf Spicebomb EDT, sample size (1.2ml), new - $2.

I rented an apartment from September 2022. My contract was supposed to start on the 7th of September however, despite calling the agents several times prior to the 7th, I had no response from them for when I could pick my keys up. I had completed all necessary paperwork and my rent had been paid. Finally on the 7th, I was able to get through to them and I moved in on the 8th. I had confirmed that I would be arriving at 11 AM to pick up the keys and I was made to wait until 3 PM claiming that the property was being painted ( it was not being painted).
After moving in, I contacted the agent of which I have proof of what is the procedure after moving in, setting up bills etc. She ignored me. I was unaware that I had to sign an inventory check that was sent by a third party and this went to my junk. So the inventory check remained unsigned by me.
The apartment was filthy when I moved in. The floor was sticky through out and when I wiped it using a floor wipe the wipe turned black. Unfortunately, I don’t have this exact picture I only have a chat with my partner with the date and the picture being sent but deleted (WhatsApp) talking about the apartment.
The fridge had a weird stench that I couldn’t figure out for the life of me where it was coming from and I had cleaned it several times and it got to a point where I couldn’t keep food in the fridge as it would smell. It wasn’t till months later I figured there was rotten food in the corner of the fridge that had been smelling this whole time I have a picture of this.
At this point I used to spend a lot of time at my partners place and would rarely use the apartment, so I didn’t bother complaining. Had I known about the inventory check, I would’ve let them know besides, they would never pick up their phone ever it was so frustrating.
After moving out, they are claiming, £265 for cleaning charges I.e dust and hair left on the floor and stuff left in the cupboards after negotiating they have dropped it down to £200. It has been around 8 months of back and forth however , I just received an email stating that if they send this through to the adjudication then I will be charged more than 200£ and it’s best I accept as on the inventory check in, the property claimed to be professionally cleaned, I didn’t sign this nor accept that.
Should I go ahead and pay the £200 or let the case go forward to the adjudication?

Barron, Laird. “Jaws of Saturn.” The Beautiful Thing That Awaits Us All. Night Shade Books, 2013.

Summary

Carol is Franco’s girl, and when he learns a two-bit stage magician is practicing hypnotism on her, Franco goes to pay the old man a visit. But Phil Wary is no mere purveyor of parlor tricks. The line between dreams and waking, between our reality and one of monstrous dimensions, erodes, as Franco and Carol find themselves ground to bits between the “Jaws of Saturn.”

Characters

• Franco - a private security attache and enforcer. Well groomed, well read, well armed.
• Carol - Franco’s lover and resident of The Broadsword Hotel.
• Phil Wary - an elderly resident of The Broadsword and career stage magician; also a powerful practitioner of the Black Arts.

Story

In the lounge of the Broadsword Hotel, Carol tells Franco of a dream she had of her former lover Marvin Cortez. Franco tries to explain it away as mere messages from her subconscious, but he’s also jealous. In her room, they engage in vigorous sex and Franco observes that, for a moment, one of her irises is inhumanly oblong. He doesn’t know what to make of this and presses Carol on her current state of mind, especially her recent weird dreams. She admits she’s been visiting old Phil Wary in his apartment upstairs, paying him for hypnosis sessions to help kick her smoking habit. That’s all Franco needs to know. This old sheister is trying to get into Carol’s pants and he’s screwing with her head. He’ll pay Phil Wary a visit. But first, he falls asleep and dreams of lovely, voluptuous Carol standing frozen in the Broadsword lobby as a shadow of “colossal dimensions” looms over her.
Franco is a bodyguard/enforcer for millionaire Jacob Wilson and is no stranger to intimidation, violence, and murder. He ferrets out Wary’s number and rings him up. Wary dismisses Franco contemptuously over the phone (“You sound like an oaf, a knuckle dragger.”) so Franco breaks into his apartment where he confronts the old man about making moves on Carol under the guise of therapeutic mesmerism. Phil Wary is both sardonically condescending and oddly patient with Franco, giving him more than one opportunity to walk away. But Franco is consumed with (perhaps nurses) his jealousy and strikes Wary across the face with a belt, ordering him to stay away from his girlfriend. Franco’s action does not have the intended effect. Wary shakes off the blows and effortlessly subdues Franco.
Wary stows the bound Franco in a closet, on tiptoes with a belt tightened around his neck, and leaves the door ajar so he can watch as Carol enters for her hypnosis session. Something’s wrong about the closet: he can’t see its ceiling. The dimension of height goes up and up into darkness. Franco struggles to maintain consciousness and can only watch as Wary entrances Carol then guides her to his apartment wall where he pulls back a flap of old wallpaper and has her look through a hole at… Franco doesn’t know what she could possibly be seeing other than the back lot of the Broadsword. Wary releases Carol from the trance and sends her on her way. Now Wary leads Franco to the wall, telling him, “All this flesh is but a projection. We are the dream of something greater and more dreadful than you could imagine. To gaze into the abyss is to recognize the dreamer and in recognition, to wake.” He forces Franco’s eye against the hole in the wall. Franco passes out. When he comes to, he receives a call on Wary’s phone from his boss Jacob Wilson, who fires him on the spot. Wary offers tepid consolation before ejecting Franco into the hall. Franco suddenly wakes in Carol’s bed, screaming.
Franco and Carol’s nightmares intensify as the boundary between dreaming and waking life erodes. Their nightmares increasingly feature familiar locations distended into cyclopean dimensions, and threats from above - at first tendrils descending from the sky, then the hand of a giant. In desperation, Franco returns to the Broadsword, packing his pistol, but the opportunity to kill Phil Wary has passed if it truly ever existed. He has a vision of Carol in the vaulted hotel lobby and, above them, Wary - now a colossus like the titan Saturn in de Goya’s famous painting - towers above them. The giant picks up Franco and raises him to its face - but Franco “had a long, agonizing moment to recognize his own face mirrored by the primordial aspect of the giant.” Franco is devoured.
There’s a brief coda where Franco (?) wakes, a giant in an ancient or future world, and is joined by his titanic lover. Together they loom over “all the tiny houses and all the tiny works of men.”

Analysis

As I write this, I have just woken from a dream. In the dream, I am asleep and dreaming of looking at a reproduction toy catalog and, sure enough, there are three pages of the old Micronauts toy line with which I am still obsessed. I wonder if these toys will ever be reissued. Then I wake up. There’s a book at the far end of the bed. It’s out of reach and I’m still sleepy and don’t want to stretch to grab it. I wonder, as I so often have: if I focus on that book and believe that waking reality is mine to shape as I do in dreams, can I make that book really leap into my hand? I do, and it does! I double-check to be sure I’m really awake. Yes - yes, I’m awake! This is finally, really happening! I try it again, pulling a rock from the ground through telekinesis. It’s easy. I have come into my own, a demigod among men. Then I wake up, for real this time.
My subconsciousness giggles. Pwned again.
All this to say: it’s disconcerting when the line between dreaming and waking consciousness breaks down, which is what’s happening for Franco and Carol, and at a scale that defies Euclidian geometry.
In fact, Franco’s experience is like stumbling onto the Devil’s Narnia. The closet in Phil Wary’s apartment - like C.S. Lewis’ coat-filled wardrobe - opens onto an impossibly large dimension, one lighted not by a snow-strewn lamppost but a hideous red light. For both Franco and Carol, the gulf between dreams and waking reality is melting away. The dreaminess/nightmarishness doesn’t make their experiences of this other (truer?) world any less real. Again, the occultist tells Franco, “We are the dream of something greater and more dreadful than you could imagine. To gaze into the abyss is to recognize the dreamer and in recognition, to wake.”
In The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, the Pevensie children’s true identity is revealed as the sons of Adam and the daughters of Eve. Franco and Carol’s journey in “Jaws of Saturn” makes them a kind of Adam and Eve, but of a titanic cast. Their early sex scene shows Franco on the verge of an atavistic state, nearly unbridled from the abstraction that is modern human consciousness. The knowledge he seeks - what is Wary doing to Carol? - opens the door on a transformation that grounds him, bringing him closer to the true, perilous state of being alive, an atavistic state that finds its ultimate form as a titan in the post-civilization world of the coda. And herein we see a common journey for the Barronic hero: the search for Cursed Knowledge begins the Unraveling/Unveiling of Reality culminating in a Hideous Fate which leads to one’s Ultimate Form. (Note: Laird has a story titled "Don't Make Me Assume My Ultimate Form.”)
As I write this, my daughter has just called me from DC, upset by terrible dreams of a book that looks like the Bible, but it’s not the Bible, and our cat Izzy who died a few weeks ago has returned, but she keeps fading in and out of view. In her dream, my daughter is scared to get on an elevator because she’s on roller skates and the people in the building say the elevator is really slow, but the doors open, she gets in and the elevator moves so fast she’s floating. When it stops, the doors open onto a garden filled with people who want her to read a passage from the book that’s not the Bible: it’s Zanderthonis, book 2, chapter 3. And she keeps trying to wake up from the dream so she can tell someone about it but she can’t escape the building.
All this to say: Watch out, friends. The dreams, they’re catching.
Connections to other stories:

• The setting of “Jaws of Saturn” is the Broadsword Hotel, seen previously in “The Broadsword.”
• Carol’s former lover is Marvin Cortez, protagonist of “The Imago Sequence.” She mentions him to Franco, and Franco knows who he is. Franco works for Jacob Wilson, nephew of Teddy Wilson whose disappearance is mentioned in “The Imago Sequence.”
• “Hand of Glory” - Phil Wary - under his pseudonym Helios Augustus - sets Johnny Cope on the trail of Conrad Paxton.
• It’s not insignificant that “Jaws of Saturn” clearly ties together the transhumanism stories of The Imago Sequence to the Old Leech stories of Occultation by placing Franco’s and Carol’s conversation about Marvin Cortez in the Broadsword Hotel where Pershing Dennard ran afoul of the Children of Old Leech.

In part VI, the doctor examining Franco checks his eyes and says “something about coloboma.” ClevelandClinic.org notes: “The most recognizable and common colobomas affect your iris (the colored part of your eye) and cause your pupil (the dark center of your eye) to have a keyhole shape.” In other words, what was happening to Carol is now happening to Franco, and the change is the key to unlocking the underlying reality of the world.

Discussion

1. What did Franco see through the hole in the wall in Phil Wary’s apartment?
2. What’s the significance of Saturn, and specifically the de Goya painting of Saturn eating his children?
3. Did I miss connections to any other Laird Barron story?
4. Which Broadsword resident has the worse fate? Pershing Dennard (“The Broadsword”) or Franco (“Jaws of Saturn”)?
5. Which other Barronic heroes undergo the ordeal of Cursed Knowledge > Unveiling Reality > Hideous Fate > Ultimate Form?

This isn't about being overwhelmed with the to-do list -- this sub already has some great tips on overcoming that. This is more about the work itself.
When I bought my house in 2016, I wasn't handy but I put a lot of time and effort into learning and doing some work to spruce this old house up like painting, landscaping, replacing fixtures, drywall repairs, minor electrical, building furniture (I made my own entertainment center and a desk for my work-from-home office) and tasks like that. I was largely happy with my results and I actually enjoyed doing the work and knocking items off the to-do list.
Now, it seems like I'm never happy with my results. I learn best by doing, I'll try doing anything once, and I always learn something from the project. As a result, most of the time I end up going back to re-do something because of the lessons learned, so everything takes longer to finish. And most of the time I'm still not happy with it.
The latest example is my back deck. It's fairly large. In 2022 I hired a contractor to re-do it. Well, he wasn't a great contractor. He mostly worked half-days and only showed up 2-3 days out of the week. When he started laying the decking he didn't even stagger the boards (in a high-traffic area nonetheless), so I had to explain to him he had to stagger the boards (which was crazy, and I had seen prior deck work he did, so he definitely should have known). The bottom of the stringers for the stairs were half on the concrete landing and half hanging off. He came and did some work while we were out of town. I don't want to get into specifics, but he put the young woman that was watching our house and dogs in an unsafe situation. As soon as I got back and she told me what happened, I told him his equipment is in front of the garage and he's done working at our house.
So I picked up where he left off on the deck project and did the best I could. It turned out ok, but there are some things that I'm not happy with like some of the railing posts aren't plumb and some of the joints on the railings were junky. So I went back and re-did them and made better miter cuts on the railing corners. But I'm still not happy, and even though I was happy with my miters, the wood has since shrunk and they're back to looking kind of junky. I still have to finish putting the spindles on the staircase and stain/seal the deck, so this project is definitely dragging on.
Things like this just kind of discourage me from doing more. I'm hesitant to start any other projects because once I swing the hammer there's no undo button and I know I have no choice but to follow through and finish. My can-do "I'll watch YouTube and try anything once" attitude has taken a hit because I haven't been happy with my own results. I don't think I'm a perfectionist but I know the phrase "my half-ass is someone else's full-ass" applies.
As an example of this discouragement, I hired a contractor to replace the old carpet in the house with LVP flooring in August 2021. Despite me letting him know the locking mechanism isn't like traditional LVP and the manufacturer has specific instructions, he didn't follow them so as a result I have some chipped planks and I can tell that the flooring in some rooms don't have adequate room to expand in the winter. The primary issue is that the treads and risers on the stairs have completely fallen apart. I've had the tools and materials to fix this since 2021 but I just don't want to start out of the fear it's not going to look good or last. After all, the work the contractors did weren't very good and I'm not happy with the results of my own work either.
I place trust in contractors so I don't hover or micromanage them but I haven't had the best luck with contractors and that's burned me, which makes me want to avoid them completely and do these improvements myself. I think I can do it via YouTube and "on-the-job", but I don't feel like I will do it well and I'll want to go back and fix issues.
I don't want validation, but I want to know anything that has helped anyone here to overcome a similar obstacle? I feel like I should be a lot further in my skills at this point after 8 years, minus a few years where I didn't have time to do much.

the man opens twitter for the final time and reads those pages about the nasty black people. once the man has had enough, he picks up his weapons ready to attack any black person he sees. he doesnt care about your background, education, the way you speak, dress or act. he doesnt care if you hate yourself or not, if youre a parent or a child, adult or baby, girl or boy. if youre black, you will NOT be spared. he wont stop and think "oh shes one of the good ones i'll let her live", he will kill you like he will kill the others.
dont be deluded, 'the man' is every white person if they didnt have the fear of jailtime. my friends are white and have told me they would've been proud to own a slave. we are not human in their eyes

Taken a lot for me to really process this...
I know some of you can relate, if not all of you to some extent...
My situation growing up, there was me, worked hard, studied hard and got good grades, went to college, got my 4 year degree.
I did everything my parents asked of me for their admiration, their love, it was all transactional.
As I got older, it turned more into being punished for the tiniest things, praised, then torn down again, it was an every other day occurrence.
It made me feel inadequate, made me try harder, made me live in fear for what would happen next.
It made me a recluse when I was home or finding any excuse to leave the house to be with friends that genuinely loved me and wanted me there for my company, conversation and companionship, then come home when I knew my parents would be asleep.
It just made me hypervigilant, constant fight or flight, always waiting for the shoe to drop.
For the most part, everything was great until I got married. Once the attention and energy went into my spouse and not them, they became angry, resentful, bitter. Your happiness when it doesn't come from them, destroys them to their core. Parents threatened to not attend, when they weren't paying for the wedding. It was during covid, very limited on who could go, yet they tried to control that.
I went into business with my father many years ago. Promises of it being mine one day when it all started, to leaving after promise after promise broken, working FOR someone and not for myself. I'm in the financial industry, and I decided that leaving after consistently being taken advantage, gaslit, verbally abused and micromanaged, not to mention from other employees, as an independent contractor. He painted me as a problem and projected himself onto me. He fought so hard to make me an extension of himself, yet when I tried to be my own person and do things my way, that infuriated him even more as it was working. I was moving forward, advancing, being successful. I was aggressively taken down a notch. Having my income slashed to 10% of what it was and being told that "it was good for me".
I yelled so loud in anger, as we all know it was reactive... you're reacting to the abuse you've taken. Putting up a boundary or concern and having it rejected, ignored.
I have a wife, child, mortgage, bills. I didn't find any bit of it amusing, and it was labeled as "performance related" when I hit 80% of my goals, 95% client retention, and new assets brought into the firm, yet 60% of my work was taken as "cost of doing business".
I was tired of being told what to do, brought up violations of labor laws, didn't stop them from pushing so I left. I was offered 40k less than what I made the previous year and would have the same duties, and lose all my equity, so I left, took my clients with me.
I have a wife, a beautiful daughter, and I broke free. Sure, I'm living paycheck to paycheck, fighting like hell to keep a roof over my head, but I would rather be free from manipulation, panic attacks, stress, a slave forever with no benefit at the end, no taking over, no incentive, nothing. Just disenfranchised, destroyed, and recovering.
Sorry for the trauma dump, but, I had to get that off my chest.
Hope all of you are healing and doing okay.

A few weeks ago I requested help prepping a DCC hexcrawl and received a lot of excellent suggestions. To that list I'd like to add this great youtube guide which goes into the nuts and bolts of running a hexcrawl in a simple and matter-of-fact way.
u/CurrencyOpposite704 suggested I check out the hexanomicon, which was an excellent idea, in more ways than one. I'd been searching for inspiration for a loosely connected campaign. Which I found on the title page of the hexanomicon, which features a giant 'island turtle'.
The idea is that the party is shipwrecked on a large island that is much more than it seems. The island is a turtle-shaped vessel--a titan--built eons ago by a long-vanished race in order to traverse the astral seas, or whatever. When the party first lands, they have no idea that the island is anything other than what it seems. Centuries have passed; the surface of the island appears completely nature. Exploring the island, particularly the dungeons deep beneath it, will reveal the mechanical heart of the island, and thus repair it, if they choose to do so.
Of course, they aren't the only inhabitants of the island. They won't be the only ones trying to get control of it.
A quick image search led to this map, which works for me. I ran it through gimp and overlayed it with a hex pattern, and now I'm good to go.
I've already run the party through Starless Sea, which was awesome and really set the tone. I'm going to have them wash ashore in the inlet on the southern side of the island, with a path leading up from the shore to the east side of the inlet.
I'd like to seed the island with some adventures. From the small beach on the inlet is a path that winds up the cliff. At the top of the cliff is a painted sign that points north and south. The sign is a warning. North is death and south is not death.
South leads to the village of Hirot and the Doom of the Savage Kings adventure. Once the village is saved the party can use it as a base of operations to explore the island. North I'm not sure about yet, but I'm imagining that something dangerous lives in the swamp north of the inlet.
There are several other points of interest on the map I'd like to get some input on. There are the mountains east of the inlet. The scarred area NW of the inlet screams 'chaos' to me. What's going on it those chasms that seems to be killing the surrounding flora? Whatever it is is probably corrupting the wildlife and poisoning the swamp.
In the NE corner is a large swampy area. I'm considering setting Moon Slaves there, or perhaps even in the swampy area closer to the inlet. Really, I'm open to ideas, though generally I'd like the danger, and thus the level, to increase as the party ventures north.
Finally--and this is the part I really need help with--there is the mystery at the heart of the island. The large mountain chain near the center of the island contains the entrance to a dungeon that leads to the control center of the titan. The control center is guarded by sentient AI, constructs, clockwork guardians, and things of that nature. Perhaps corrupted over time. One idea is that the Patrons/Deities of this island are all different and conflicting personalities of the same fractured AI overmind. The keys to this dungeon are scattered about the island, encouraging exploration and making it so the party can't access the dungeon until the island has been fully explored.
Any suggestions with the control dungeon would be greatly appreciated. Once the party explores the surface and conquers the main dungeon, they gain full access to the titan. The campaign ends with them sailing off on the cosmic seas to future adventure.

As If It Were Kismet: Prologue
Matt tore through the brush, blind in the dark. He didn’t care where he was going. He only knew he needed to be elsewhere. Far from here.
Behind him a creature howled that shocked his mind. It’s form was cruel and dangerous, though female. Nothing like the young woman she had once been. Nothing but a girl, a small and slight female.
It’s guttural growls and howls only grew closer as Matt tried to pick between seeing where he was going and getting away. The few times he looked he caught sight of the creature behind him. Hopping through the air with a speed that told him he was being toyed with. As if he were a mouse being played with by a cat.
But the reflex in him to run kept him going. His adrenaline going as hard as it could. The tightness and burning in his core tensing and locking up as his legs felt like there were being burned from within while taking on more of a heaviness.
His lungs were starting to betray him as he tried to gulp big breaths of air but only rapid and shallow breaths were all that he could manage. His brain was starting to burn….and then he was falling.
Falling down the side of a hill he saw the creature dart in a spring towards him, imperceivably fast almost. Catching him in mid air it seemed.
Managing to wrap its body around him and cushion his impact against the ground as they rolled. His mind barely took in what was happening during the roll. Only starting to understand what was happening once they were still.
The creature's triple D-cup breasts were unmistakably pressed hard against his back as he laid facing up at the night sky.
For a few seconds the world stilled and the needle light pain hitting the center of his brain took over for the cooking heat his brain had felt. His whole body felt heavy and reluctant to move.
Even if he could have really moved, a dull ache came over his limbs making them feel stilled and trapped as if by immeasurable amounts of sand that had engulfed him.
Slowly the arms holding him started to move. Moving so the creature's hands could start exploring him. Causing Matt to unstoppably let out a pathetic moan that made him go cold inside as hands lifted up his shirt and started to touch his exposed stomach and then his chest.
He would have whimpered so pathetically had he not still been in the depths of terror.
As its hands felt and groped his pecs he tried to situp as if to get away. For his efforts, his reward was a hand around his throat and a collection snarls and growls against his ear. A beastly, guttural voice spat words at him while somehow holding a feminine tone.
“Don’t move….I don’t know if I can calm down…”
Her words were not helped by her moans in his ear and the subsequent kissing of his ear. The flesh of his ear going between her lips as she moaned and seemed to pant. Releasing it and licking the side of his face with a moist warmth. He could feel its spittle, viscous and coating his flesh where the tongue touched. He could smell something in his saliva. Something that subtly entranced him.
Matt went stock still with fear and the confusion of mixed arousal. He barely perceived her right hand traveling lower on his body. A surprised moan and shudder echoed in the night from Matt’s lips as she took ahold of him. Her hand above his pants but still….stimulating him.
A light squeezing and almost probing of her digits kept him aroused and confused within her grasp. Resigning himself to the strange fate, Matt looked up at the stars as his mind tried not to shatter under the strange maelstrom of events and sensation that had started mere minutes ago.
His mind was only more confused as a slight figure, feminine in build, how it seemed to thunk the ground audibly as she landed on her feet out nowhere. Her knees barely bending under the pressure of the landing. Yet dirt was kicked up anyways and some of it onto Matt. Feeling it pepper his shirt and pants as it fell.
The figure, lit only faintly by moonlight, roared some dark tone Matt could only perceive as a demon as her eyes went bright with a crimson light. A light in the darkness that should not have been. “Let him go you bitch.” Was its words following the roar. Spittle escaping its mouth with faint droplets hit Matt's face.
The creature holding him by his throat and crotch seemed to tighten the grasp of both hands as it roared back. “HE IS MINE!”
The figure paused with a moment's hesitation. He was also her quarry. She had felt his fear without him knowing. His confused arousal. His fear. His terror.
And now he laid at the center of a struggle between two monsters. Unsure of who he wanted to win.
As If It Was Kismet Ch. 1
Matthew Berkshire hadn’t seen his mom in two years. Not that he had seen her much over the last six years.
A messy divorce between messy people and mom’s chaotic want for a life in Alaska had been one of the most…upsetting times in life. Setting him up for so much of what had defined his life thus far but then that had really started two years before he ever turned.
His ear buds were basic and simple. A part of cheap five pack, common for his life as he was known to lose little things. Small things. They had a mix of metal and hard rock playing in them. Some classics, some alternative. Whatever made him feel something, anything. Even if it was hate. Anger. Rage. It was better than feeling numb. Not belonging.
The escalator down to his lone bag to go with his lone carry on showed his mom waiting for him. His had a type, that’s for damn sure. Not that it helped him in the genetics department as he was stuck at 5’9” to go along with his mother’s five foot even as his dad stood six foot. Forever leaving him to feel small, to pale, under his dad’s shadow. Did he ever stand a chance?
The guy next to her with the unkempt former seventies porn stache was “Dave.” He’d met him twice when his mother came and visited him in Florida. To his credit the guy didn’t look annoyed. Kind of concerned kind of which made Matthew want to break his frozen look but he was well practiced. Having removed any note of sadness from his face through much…tribulation.
His mother’s look on her face betrayed a hint of worry as the bruises on his face lightly showed up close. Saying his name was his like a distant echo that belonged to someone else.
Dave cut in and pulled out his right headphone. “What the hell bud, they knock you hard enough to hurt hearing? Your mom’s asking how you are doing.”
Matthew pulled out the other bud and grunted an empty “sorry.”
“You still have bruises after two week? What did they do to you?” His mom’s voice was full of worry. Something he hadn’t heard in….too long. Too long to make him feel anything. To ever make him believe there was any sincerity to her words. To not think her voice and mannerisms were an act. An act by someone who…wasn’t really there.
“It’s only fair. I took a nose. Fractured a couple orbital bones. Left one with having to get his jaw wired shut. And one will never walk right again for what I did to his knee cap.” Matthew said it all with a bored and disinterested tone. Perhaps well rehearsed.
“My man, handing out ass kickings, not bothering to take names.” Dave was quick to be the typical man’s man about it. Matthew wasn’t quite done yet. Lifting up his shirt to expose the right side near his kidney. Revealing a nasty scar from a six inch blade. “Luckily they gave me this first so they could rule it all in self-defense. The fuck didn’t get it in more than inch before I ruined his knee cap and then I took the nose of one of the fucks holding me.” Now he chose to smile keeping the well practiced dead look in his eyes.
No retorts. No questions. Just horrified looks on their faces. As he liked. As he preferred. They could hate him. They could be disgusted by him. But by God they would fear him.
“Well the doc did a good job sewing you up.” Dave commented uncomfortably. “Dissolving sutures. Ain’t they grand.” He smiled again and let it abruptly fall off his face and started walking to the carousel for the baggage claim.
Waiting and making small talk with Dave as his mother stood in silence. He was not the little boy she abandoned. The little boy she left with an angry man. While never hitting him. Left him in constant fear till he turned twelve and just didn’t care anymore. Something snapped. Broke. And he didn’t care if he died. Didn’t care if he stole. Didn’t even care if he killed. He just knew not to get caught. Something left over from his grandfather’s wisdom which came to make more and more sense with each passing year of life since that thing inside him broke.
Finally his bag came around and Dave went to try first to grab it but Dave practically leapt ahead of him. “Is that your grandfather’s rucksack bag?” his mother asked in a perplexed voice.
“Figured it’s been around since Viet Nam. So it’d serve me better than any of the worthless stuff they called luggage.” Dave commented after Matthew’s words. “Well hell yeah I still got mine from Desert Storm. You know the first one.” Dave laughed and Matthew eyed him oddly. Be it in the south or whether it was Alaska, country boys are country boys he guessed.
The car ride to the two people’s house, as Matthew thought of them. Was uneventful and full of vistas he imagined metropolitan types wetting themselves over. At most they meant isolation to him. Furtherness from the world as there were no mountains in Florida. And what mountains he had last seen in another state had been when he was eight. Another life, to Matthew it felt like. A life alien to him.
As If It Was Kismet Ch 2
Dave and his mom’s place was some two story type tucked into a tree line far up an elevated point. It was by no means the highest point in the mountain but it certainly felt up there.
Rocks were where the driveway should have been Matthew thought. Grabbing his backpack and rucksack from Dave’s jeep was no hard thing for him. Matthew was in formidable shape for someone his age, maybe even five years older. He had gotten a mix of fairly big shoulders and arms along with the chest to go for it when compared to most kids his age. A side effect of working out at least twice a day. First thing in the morning, some time in the evening, and the school’s gym when had had a good semester in school before he had to leave Florida.
Dave tried to come up and help him but Matthew walked past him towards the house. His mom was not sure what to make of his demeanor. Matthew was not the sweet kind boy he had once been. But she had been gone from his life essentially for a long time.
Ushering him into the house she cracked some joke he did not hear. He was too busy looking about and seeing a mix of old outdated decorating mixed with the strange and odd flair of his mother. Color contrasting against drab and dated. Like brightly painting over an old home that was falling apart he thought.
“Your room is this way Mattie.” His mom brightly intoned.
Without expressing any interest he followed his mother. Still faced and nonplussed. Just going along with the current. Pushed and pulled with its roll like a piece of driftwood.
The room was simple. A single small bed. A set of rubber weights with a curl bar and barbells. “Your dad said you were into weight lifting so we got you a bunch of stuff. Dave says it looks like his department’s gym almost. The woman’s smile felt very alien to him.
“Thank you. I appreciate it. I’ve got most of my stuff from home.” Matthew starting unpacking his rucksack and pulled out cables of repetitive and mixed colors. A single plastic barbell handle. The ruck sack could be filled with water bottles for added weight during pushups he figured. Remembering a Michael Keaton movie he watched with his dad post-Batman movies where he played a convicted killer using plastic bags filled with water for weights.
Matthew caught movement outside his lone fairly large window that could let him step out onto the roof of the house given its layout.
He saw a number of people running together through what he guessed was the backyard of the property, not that it had any fences to mark boundaries
They wore clothes that looked similar yet different from each other at the same time.”Oh those are the Johnston’s. Really nice bunch of people. Been on the mountain for a long time Dave tells me.”
Matthew looked at the group of people running and noticed the lack of resemblance. “They are related?” Matthew quizzically asked. Seeing a black and possibly a hispanic person amongst the bland looking white people.
“Oh well they are all adopted but for one or two of them…besides the parents of course. The family has a long tradition of taking in orphans they say. Real nice of them to do that don’t you think.”
Matthew looked at his mother and the hosier accent made no sense to him as he arched his left eye brow. Her and his dad were both from Florida. Born and raised. Sure her parents were from New York city but…
Matthew shook his lightly without turning to look at his mother as his vision was grabbed by one of the runners in particular. A girl of moderate height. Soft brunette. A plain beauty he figured with a slim build….and lack of remarkable breasts and rear to make any note of but….girls in general were his type at his age.
She was pretty enough. He couldn’t deny that but he found himself transfixed by her visage.
But the way she turned and looked at him, especially at that distance felt very disconcerting to him. Even if she was smiling like…she was a taste of a bright shiny day. Somehow.
Matthew’s mom noticed the exchange and smiled to herself with closed lips. “Oh that’s Vicky. She’s your age I think. Very sweet girl, who does the charity functions. You know bake sales, blood drives, car washes and the like. I think you should get to know her. Might be good for you.”
A truck horn sounded a couple of beeps in rather succession. “Oh that must be Mack, he said he might come by later this evening but he seems early.”
Matthew’s mother turned and left his room. Leaving Matthew to exchange a few looks with the alluring Vicky as she turned her head away from him to talk to the others in her group and look back at him.
Still Matthew’s left eyebrow was arched. In a way that reminded him of Spock from Star Trek that he and his grandpa used to watch on some streaming service or another.
As he heard ambient chatter elsewhere outside the house he figured to check it out as the alluring sight of Vicky would be around he figured. It was dull to stare at artwork. He was a boy who preferred jet skis and the like. Something he could ride and enjoy immensely. Even if at times it got him stabbed.
As If It Was Kismet Ch 3
Matthew sauntered out of the house and down the rockway that stood in for a driveway.
A few new people had come over from what he could first surmise of the situation. As he got closer it was obvious they were indigenous people. A couple of grown men…and a girl?
She was mousey. Maybe five foot. Hiding behind glasses and a big camo jacket that was far too big for her. It looked made for a grown man and the backwards trucker hat on her head kept her long black a beautiful mess of sorts.
She was cute in a way. A little androgynous but she had a cute energy to her. She reminded him of the more tomboyish Puerto Rican girls he had gotten into back in Florida. Given the deer corpses in the back of the truck….probably more dangerous to play with given the men in her family.
Small chatter passed between the adults when the girl noticed but turned away, trying to hide the tiny hint of a smile.
“Oh Mattie, this is Mack. He works with Dave at the sheriff’s department and John, he’s with fish and wildlife.” Matthew nodded at his mom’s words with some blankness as he looked at the deer the in the back of the pickup truck.
“Gale tells us you hunted with your dad some in Florida and Georgia.” Mack offered with a light hearted laugh camouflaged by his big simple and cheery but husky way he spoke.
Looking in the back of the truck he spoke. “We used lever action thirty-thirties and Mosin Nagants in seven-six-two-fifty-four-rimmed.” Mack and John whistled in an exaggerated fashion. Leaving Matthew to wonder if they were mocking him.
Mack spoke. “Well we just used thirty-odd-six in a custom gussied Garand.” That caught Matthew’s attention. “You have a Garand…” Matthew finally demonstrated interest in anything. “My dad has an SVT-40 and a Hakim 8mm but he always wanted a Garand but was too cheap to buy one.”
Gale, his mother, chimed in loudly. “Oh his Dad loved his guns but was such an odd duck about how he bought or why he bought them. Never made sense to me how he wasn’t a collector but he didn’t get the latest and greatest.” Gale laughed uncomfortably. At least it seemed that way to Matthew.
Matthew pointed to the girl with an underhanded pointing hand. “And who is this? A cute little mute mouse or does she have a name?” Dave and the other men laughed.
Mack again spoke. “Well you people call her Rebecca, she’s my adopted daughter.” Matthew was taken aback by what he heard. “You people?”
Rebecca kindly spoke with a soft but almost melodic voice as she struggled to maintain eye contact. “White people or rather not members of our tribe. It’s just easier to appease the colonizer kind of thing. Borrowed from when the Jesuit missionaries chased us up here.”
Mack stepped in. “It’s just easier to have white people names than have them try to say our tribal names. And we don’t want them shortening or Anglicising our names kind of thing.” Rebecca stepped back into the conversation cutting off her adopted father. “It’s an insult to our history basically.”
Matthew cocked his head sideways raising his eyebrows shortly before letting them drop. “Well as soon as I’m eighteen I’m out of here and back to Florida so I’m a sort of involuntary colonizer of sorts. So I won’t be taking any of your land from you. The Seminoles on the other hand are still shit out of luck.”
Rebecca’s smile caused Matthew to reflexively smile. Mack made the moment more awkward. “See Becca, I told you someone off the reservation would like you some. You just have to be creative.” Mack laughed in a chiding manner…Matthew presumed. He sensed that he was the butt of some kind of cultural joke. Like marrying a white guy was some sort of insult or mark of shame. That kind of thing.
Rebecca turning away from him was not something he had been expecting. Her then getting in the truck in a huff left the group in a silence for a moment.
Dave spoke to break the awkward silence. “Well just bring the truck to work on Monday and leave it for me to grab up.” Mack acknowledged Dave and they started to get off as Rebecca looked at Matthew for another instance. Matthew couldn’t look away for some reason as the two seemed to lock eyes for an instance.
Till Vicky and family seemed to come jogging down the road. While Matthew’s eyes diverted from Rebecca’s. Hers did not till she realized he was looking elsewhere. And her vision found Vicky and what had been a hint of smile on her face turned glum and disappointed.
Matthew did not look away from the vision of Vicky but instead of a starry eyed fool looking longingly. It was a baffled look. Well baffled for him, with his eyes drawn narrow and night with a focus.
There was something about her…he couldn’t quite put a name too. The way she appeared to him. One second brunette. The next second blonde or blonde like. As if the color appeared in her air and disappeared in fractions of seconds. Much the same way her body almost seemed to…shift…very subtly…smoothly. A nicer bum. Larger breasts. And then back to a simple and plain form. Feminine no doubt. Attractive. But not so…remarkable.
As If It Was Kismet Ch 4
The next two days passed without incident. Nothing of any real substance or challenge to note.
Matthew got settled somewhat and started working out almost immediately. Exploring around the woods but Dave told him not to go far. Especially without a hunting rifle. Dave had left a simple semi-auto Winchester out for him. His bear gun as Dave referred to it with its four round magazine. But Matt figured till he got some practice with the rifle to leave it alone. He made a hiking stick like his grandpa taught him and treated it over a low fire. He would take some electrical tape for the end his hand would grip around. Plenty enough to ward off anything smaller than a bear he figured.
The ride to school was a pain in the neck but simple enough. Dave would let him use a clunker pickup truck he had laying around. It wasn’t pretty but it would get him to and from. Even if it was from the eighties and still backfired on occasion. But for now Dave and his mom took him on their way to the sheriff’s department.
It wasn’t much of a school. It wanted to be modern but its fifties original construction was very obvious. It serviced the pipeline families and familys’ of fisherman who worked the seasons in between their time at the pipeline.
Matt was to report to the principal for some reason Dave and his mom wouldn’t share. Which annoyed him but he figured it was to read him the law of land. Small towns with their big views of the outside world and like.
Dressed in jeans, a grey sweatshirt under a light jacket with steel toed boots set him more apart then he expected. His buzzed head didn’t help matters. Already he was feeling like a stranger in a strange land but he was quite strange after all. And he liked it that way. Normal people were so pathetically disappointing to him.
A secretary or assistant or some such led him to the principal’s office. Where it reeked of real wood that was old and fabric and upholstery that needed to be updated for the last twenty years, Matt figured.
“This is Matthew Berkshire, Principal Andrews.” The man was turned with his back to the door and he was quick to wave her off as he turned her around.
He was an older man. Fat and large. Tall with a body built like he had once been fit and a demeanour of annoyed and irate already as he fixed Matt with a scowl and look of disgust. Another worthless government whore. Matt thought to himself. His father and his grandfather had bestowed unto him a natural disrespect for government workers and the figures that wore unjustified authority as a shield but pretended the weight of the state was not at their back ready to crush all who resisted. Little figures of valor pretending to be mighty and alone but acting with the tyranny of the state and all the backing.
“Mr. Berkshire, please sit down.” His tone wasn’t unusually hostile, just gruff. As if he had better things to do.
Matt complied and took a seat in the chair while maintaining a friendly facade. Not everyone was an enemy. And not everyone needed to be an enemy. Even if anybody could be any enemy. There was no reason to make enemies you didn’t have to. Another of his grandfather’s bastardised wisdoms.
“Well I looked over you file and you have quite the history Mr. Berkshire.” Matt resisted qiuping back a joke. Instead he waited for Principal Andrews to continue as he remained nonplussed and looking as if he felt no need to respond. A simple head tilt with dead eyes looking back at the principle as if he was not even there would suffice.
Matt’s reaction or lack of a reaction rather made Principal Andrews only narrow his eyes with examination. He was not used to a kid not responding to him. Especially with his gruff and hard act going on.
“Well by all accounts you moved here after some problems at your last school. A fight broke out and you did some real harm to your fellow students it appears.” Of course, he would take the side of the perpetrators. School administrators always did. Especially when they weren’t white. Just a fact of the times. Cowardice and pathetic mediocrity was the way they leaned, like good government workers sucking the dick of Big Daddy government. Worthless whores.
Matt chose to reply. “Oh you mean the criminals that stabbed me. Got arrested at the hospital and then pled to felonies. Yeah Florida, with the American counties are good like that.” Principal Andrews went real still. No shame. No fear. No penitence. He didn’t like that.
“Well be it as it may Mr. Berkshire we don’t tolerate that kind of behaviour here…” Matt cut him off responding with a deadpan tone. “You mean self-defense meant to save one’s own life while the cowardly and pathetic school workers look on with zero interest but to keep their money rolling in and will allow known gang members with records of violent acts and crimes that should have them expelled many times over, where in certain Democrat counties such cowardice and idiocy empowered a couple school shooters?”
Principal Andrews looked at the Matt with a note of disgust. “Look here Mr. Berkshire, your beliefs matter not one bit here. This isn’t Florida. We don’t like our way of life being disrupted by outside agitators who have problems with authority.”
Matt did his best not to roll his eyes and let the older fat man drone own as he dead-stared him. Lifeless and without emotion.
The man came to a finish and Matt spoke up without having listened to him or paid him any attention. “Great now that’s taken care of. Can I please get to class and finish my sentence of two years at your wonderful school?”
Principal Andrews huffed and snorted before calling in Vicky. Vicky stood in the corner after entering with a quiet and seamless presence. Matt felt disturbed and tried not betray his feelings as the young Vicky was perceived and not perceived to be moving.
Principal Andrews made the introductions and Matt nodded back. She was to be his chaperone for the day. They had the same classes and she was to show him the ropes so to speak. The ins and outs of the school. The locations of their classes.
He recognized her. It was hard not to. The way her appearance seemed to shift fluidly almost. The petite and skinny brunette ever so lightly had a big bust and blonde hair with curves added when she seemed to shift before his eyes. Like watching a film but each frame had a different person.
Matt didn’t say anything about it. Even if he did he would only be acknowledging his crazed state, if he had one. If.
Unlike an obedient puppy dog he got up in a slow and awkward fashion and followed behind her as his oddly disproportionate frame allowed. Causing her a note of concern for some reason. As if she was seeing something she shouldn’t have been….Or he was just weird. And Matt could admit to himself he was just weird. Part of his charm, he would jest about it at times. Not that he had many people to jest to now.
As If It Were Kismet Ch. 5
Following Vicky into the hall off to their first class was simple. She exchanged small talk and he slightly smiled as if to obviously suggest he was just being polite.
Inside his head, Matt was trying to figure out if he was having a psychotic break. The way Vicky looked kept changing and he looked at the other people around him and they stayed the same.
He was searching his mind as they were walking. And thus he wasn’t paying attention to where he was looking and so fell to his face forward over his feet seemingly out of nowhere.
A series of laughs erupted as it sunk in that he was obviously tripped. Like in prison this was a challenge to his superiority. If he let this pass he would be mocked and sneered at by this same group of boys. He wouldn’t walk to them like he was going to do nothing like a little bitch.
In a rage he turned and punched the stomach of the first face he saw. Some typical blonde haired wannabe jock. He knew from experience not to aim for the ribs. Instead he needed to aim for where he thought the belly button was.
Yells and screams blindly echoed around him as his after the punch he followed up his elbow of the opposite arm slamming into the face of the jock. Harder than a fist, the elbow struck the jock’s jaw and seemingly dropped him against a locker. Just in time to catch an errant and soft punch to the nose that sure enough hurt but did little to slow him down as his dad had taught him to fight through the pain. Blood and scars happened. They were a natural consequence of life to a man.
Taking the punch and falling further into his red state Matt headbutted the punch thrower before another guy arm bared his throat from behind. Which he managed to get his grip on the arm over a letterman jacked and jerk the unprepared boy to the side with him still latched on.
A few feet away from the lockers Matt knew his only chance was to jump and push off the lockers and knock the boy to the ground and so he did. He heard a thunk of the boy’s skull bouncing off the ground and he turned to pull out of the grapple.
The beatings he had taken from his father, the grapples, being choked unconscious. Had prepared him for fighting little bitches who didn’t know what a fight was. It wasn’t gay porn with rabbit punch fists flying.
Blood was running down his face and the pain started to hit him as the threats had been eliminated. Only then did he remember to breathe. Taking breathes as Vicky came up to him with tissues and took a hold of his nose.
“Owww owww owww what the fuck my nose could be broken.” He said to Vicky as she pulled his head up and back.
“It’s ok Carl. It’s done.” Matt tried to look to see who Vicky was talking to. It was a boy taller than his 5’9” by more than a small margin. The boy eyed him bored and annoyed before speaking. “What happened here?” An unoriginal line but one Matt couldn’t be a smart aleck about. “Well you see there was an outbreak of tripping and we all tripped over my dick. It happens.” Matt was about to laugh when Vicky seemed to pull up while still gripping his nose causing Matt no small amount of pain which he audibly evidenced.
Vicky spoke in a tone he wasn’t expecting. As if she was accustomed to issuing orders. “Keep Iris away from the hall till we sanitize the site. We have blood from at least three people contaminating the site. And have Jake bring me a spare jacket and shirt for this moron.”
Carl seemed to acknowledge her orders and seemed to blink away. Maybe the punch hit harder than he expected. He had no time to wonder as Vick took her hand away from his and pushed him against the lockers. With ease he had not been expecting from her form and stature.
Before he could respond Vicky licked his blood covered chin and then his lips and spoke to him. “Focus on me you little blood bag.” Her tone had an annoyed yet feminine sneer.
“Look into my eyes. Look at me. You belong to me. You are just another food source in a collection of food sources.” Her eyes were a beautiful hazel Matt thought. Almost green. Pretty like jewels in some old treasure collections. The eyes he could get lost in before kissing her. Finally Vicky was just a slight and petite brunette and he thought she was beautiful.
She would make a hell of a girlfriend. Some cute thing he could see laying on the beach in Florida on their sides laughing and smiling before trading light kisses while hands wandered innocently. Before his mind could drift further he felt her lips on his. It took him a second to mentally grasp the kiss but his arms were around her back as her hands were at his sides. His eyes reflexively closed as he saw hers close.
It was ineffable to Matt. Beyond words, what was happening. The kiss, the moments beforehand. The way his brain tickled with electricity and gentle warmth. He had never had a kiss like this and he had traded more than a few kisses with at least a few girls.
The kiss was like a warm bath with his consciousness slipping beneath the surface. Their lips only parted to try new angles and approaches as Matt struggled to take in breath. It was a moment he could have stayed trapped in for….he didn’t know. But a curt throat clearing by another girl pulled them out of the moment.
The girl was taller than Vicky. Blonde. With slight curves. Vicky addressed her bewildered and gobsmacked, and perhaps a bit embarrassed. “Tina?”

Mk6 GTI 133k miles
Long story but the bottom line is 5 months ago I paid a shop to replace my oil pump after I replaced the sensor myself and the warning light and beeping with “turn engine off now” kept coming up.
5 months later now it’s doing the same thing.
Same mechanic at the same time diagnosed my clutch as needing replaced after he replaced the slave cylinder as my clutch was still losing pressure. Come to find out (after my car was still losing pressure $1400 later with him I took it to another shop) it was a cracked plastic pipe below the master that was causing the issue. Man wanted me to replace my whole clutch instead of bleeding the system correctly and finding the leak. He already had the battery out and didn’t bleed it and checked. He just assumed it was my clutch. He wouldn’t give me receipts for the slave or the oil pump he replaced when I got my car back. He also took my car TO HIS HOUSE without my knowledge. I had to pick it up from his home.
Now I’m wondering what’s going on. Did he actually replace the oil pump? Does it really need a new one this soon? Or why else would the light be coming on again?
Also to note, I have a wheel sensor issue throwing codes and affecting the abs system.
Please help 🥺
After driving the car to work it does have a distinct hot smell of oil. Heeeeeeeeeelp 😭
TIA - Cinthia