Can you make your own lore to add to it
ChatGPT
Certainly! Here's an addition to the lore of Fallout 4, expanding on the factions and their place in the post-apocalyptic world:
Brotherhood of Steel (BoS): The Brotherhood of Steel, in their pursuit of advanced technology, has come to realize that the wasteland's devastation was not solely caused by nuclear war. They uncover evidence of a powerful and mysterious pre-war organization known as "The Architects." The Brotherhood believes that The Architects possessed advanced knowledge and technology that could have prevented the Great War but chose not to intervene. Motivated by a sense of duty to protect humanity, the Brotherhood's goal extends beyond technology retrieval. They are determined to uncover the truth about The Architects and hold them accountable for their negligence, ensuring that such a catastrophe never happens again.
The Institute: As the Institute delves deeper into their research, they discover remnants of an underground network of pre-war scientists known as "The Collective." The Collective had devised a plan to restore the world's ecosystem and reverse the effects of nuclear devastation. The Institute's primary goal becomes the realization of this ambitious project, seeking to resurrect The Collective's vision. However, their controversial methods and detachment from surface-dwelling wastelanders create a divide within the faction. Some members question the ethics of their actions, leading to internal conflict and a potential splinter group within the Institute.
The Railroad: The Railroad uncovers a series of encrypted pre-war journals that reveal the existence of a clandestine organization called "The Protectors." The Protectors were dedicated to preserving and safeguarding ancient knowledge and artifacts. Inspired by this revelation, the Railroad expands their mission to not only free synths but also to locate and protect hidden repositories of pre-war knowledge. They believe that these repositories hold the key to rebuilding civilization and preventing future catastrophes. Their actions draw the attention of other factions vying for control over these valuable resources.
The Minutemen: The Minutemen stumble upon encrypted radio transmissions, originating from an underground vault known as "The Sanctuary." Inside, they discover a collection of pre-war leaders and strategists who had foreseen the impending war and devised contingency plans to rebuild society. The Minutemen adopt the principles and strategies outlined in these plans, transforming themselves into a disciplined and well-organized force. Their goal expands to not only protect settlements but also to unite the factions of the Commonwealth under a shared vision for the future, guided by the wisdom of The Sanctuary's leaders.
The Raiders: Raiders, driven by their lust for power and resources, stumble upon a pre-war facility known as "The Arsenal." This facility houses advanced weaponry and military technology, untouched since the war. Realizing the Arsenal's potential, rival raider gangs fight for control over the facility, triggering a brutal war for dominance. The Raiders' primary goal becomes securing The Arsenal and establishing themselves as the ruling faction in the wasteland. Some Raiders recognize the destructive nature of their existence and seek redemption, leading to internal conflicts and opportunities for alliances with other factions.
These additions to the lore provide a deeper backstory for the factions in Fallout 4, introducing new elements and mysteries for players to explore, uncover, and potentially influence through their actions in the game.

I'm assuming what it made is for the different endings for each faction, like what happens after you've won it for your respective faction

I have none something has been "off" with me since I was like 24. Recently diagnosed at age of 30... like 3 weeks ago now.
I have been in a relationship for about 2 years with very rocky waters as alot of my symptoms didn't start till 4 months in. I have been melting down a lot, with him leaving me or me leaving him. So many arguments where I feel so empty and have no idea how to explain what just happened cuz I don't even understand. I'm trying to relearn my whole life again with the diagnosis.
Key things I struggle with understanding or even trying to explain:

• keep getting told I'm guilt-tripping when I try to explain my emotions (my feelings just seem so crazy and can't explain them!)
• my BF will stop answering my texts on purpose or block me, and drives me insane! granted I text alot but I can't seem to get the point across that cutting me is sending me into a spiral.
• so becuase I start to spiral he wants to break saying he's not a good fit for me, when all I ever wanted was to feel close when we are apart and have that taken away from me.
• I am having so much problems beucase I only recently got diagnosed and Im not getting better faste nough in his eyes, Ive known him for 2 years so I "owe" him alot from lost time, such as no sex. Keeps pushing me and I feel so rushed to get better and stressing me out!!!!
• I have horrible PTSD (sexual) and I cant help explain it for the life of me. he doesnt care, goes out and cheats on me (sends me even more spiral), keeps saying I'm using sex against him when I'm not!!!! I break down feeling so broken that I can't give him the one thing he wants. Tells me I should want it to and shouldnt be that hard if I like him. Its so hard!!!!! feels like my world is ending and feel so broken.
• I keep feeling like I have to hide cuz I'm too emotional. But I want company, but too emotional with company and feel like I'm just getting myself into trouble.

​
I keep trying to explain things the best I can on how I feel, what I'm recently learning on how my brain functions. I feel like I'm talking to a wall and gasping for air. I just want to scream, and I do..... I feel so broken and want to stop drowning.

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

Beep—beep—beep—beep beep—
I lifted the thermometer I had placed in her flushed left ear.
Looking at the reading on the thermometer, it showed "38.2 C".
Although a pregnant woman’s body temperature tends to be higher, this was definitely a fever, no doubt about it.
I slowly lowered my hand holding the thermometer, looking at Hoshino-San lying on the couch, I covered my face and recalled this morning.
…
The usual morning routine, I entered the bathroom for the usual grooming and looked at myself in the mirror.
After coming out, I noticed the mobile phone on the kitchen counter was buzzing with a notification, so I checked it.
I noticed that Hoshino-San had sent me two messages.
I opened the chatroom: "Amamiya-Sensei, I think I have a fever." she messaged—ugh. She sent a sticker—a somewhat chubby white seal looking displeased with a thermometer apparently stuck up its rear—What?
I turned off the phone screen and put it into my pocket. I put on my mask, grabbed the alcohol spray, and rang the doorbell at Hoshino-San's next-door apartment.
After a moment...
…She didn't faint, did she? But then—she opened the door, her face looking somewhat flushed.
"Ah~~Uno you're here~" She—What? "Hoshino-San, are you okay?" I asked.
"Relax! I just feel a little—" she said, waving her hand forward, then her body started to fall forward—"HEY ! HOSHINO-SAN!" I quickly stepped forward to catch her, her head leaning slightly on my shoulder.
"I'll take you to the couch to rest first." I gently assisted her, helping her to lie down on the couch.
…
Looking at her lying on the couch, she was resting with her eyes closed. Apart from looking exhausted, coughing, and a runny nose, her symptoms didn't seem severe. It's possible that she started feeling unwell on the way home yesterday, and her symptoms worsened during the night, preventing her from sleeping well.
I noticed her constantly adjusting her position, so I went to her bedroom and fetched a blanket and a pillow. I gently lifted her head and put the pillow in a comfortable place for her, and then covered her with the blanket.
"Is there anywhere else you're feeling uncomfortable?" I asked her softly. "Hmm... my... my head hurts a lot." she answered weakly, her face showing discomfort and her hands gripping the blanket tightly.
She couldn't take care of herself in this state, and I couldn't bear to leave her alone. "Hoshino-San, do you feel too cold right now?" I asked her gently.
"Uh... yeah, um... yes..." she answered slowly with her eyes closed. I got up, looked around for the air conditioner remote, found it, and turned up the temperature slightly.
After that, I went to her bathroom, rinsed a plastic washbasin, filled it with seventy percent hot water and thirty percent cold water, soaked a towel in it, and brought it to the living room.
I dipped the towel in the water, then wrung out most of the water. I then gently placed the warm towel on her forehead. Her expression seemed to relax a bit.
I watched her resting quietly.
After a while, I reheated the towel and placed it on her forehead again.
"Hoshino-San, did you do anything yesterday that might have led to catching a cold?" I asked her gently. "Uh... drank too much lemon water?" she answered me.
Uh... dinner last night? If I recall correctly, she didn't drink much.
"I saw you didn't drink much lemon water yesterday, was there anything else?" I asked her gently. "Um... yesterday... I think I took a cold shower." she answered slowly.
"For a long time?" I asked her. "I... don't remember, I think... after dancing yesterday afternoon, I showered until you rang the doorbell?" she slowly—What?
She showered until I rang the doorbell? I had finished a movie before I went to see her!
"Do you only take cold showers, Hoshino-San?" I asked her gently. "Well... at the beginning there was hot water, but later it ran out." she answered slowly.
I got up and gently opened the balcony door. The water heater is the same model as mine, the movie "The Graduate" is about 100 minutes, so this water heater can provide hot water for about 20 minutes, which means... 80 minutes of a cold shower.
No wonder she caught a cold... I heard her coughing from inside.
It seemed that I had no choice today. I walked over to the railing, dialed the hospital, and waited for the call to go through.
"Hello, this is Amamiya Gorou, a gynecologist. I have an emergency to attend to. My neighbor suddenly has a fever and can't take care of herself. She has no one else to look after her. I'm sorry, I need to take a leave of absence." I said. "Understood, Amamiya-Sensei, thank you for informing us. Are you sure your neighbor's condition requires your personal care? Does she need to be taken to the hospital?" the other party asked.
"Yes, I'm worried about her condition. I believe I need to see her myself. I've already assessed her illness. I will observe her condition. If it worsens, I will take her to the hospital immediately." I replied. "We understand your situation, Amamiya-Sensei. How long do you think your leave will last?" they asked. "I estimate I will need a day. I will handle this issue as soon as possible and return to the hospital." I answered.
After some more conversation, I managed to take the leave. I started thinking about what food is good for someone with a cold.
…
To be honest, aside from catching a cold when I was a child, I don't seem to have much experience with colds. Among the people I know, the one to ask about making a meal for someone with a cold would be...
But I didn't really want to call— I heard coughing from the room.
…
Sigh. I dialed a number from my contact list, waiting for the other party to pick up.
"Hello, this is the Amamiya residence." the voice on the other side said. "Hey, Grandma, it's me—" She cut me off. "Oh! My dear grandson! How rare of you to call back home! Did you miss Grandma?" she said joyously. "Kind of, but today I wanted to—" She cut me off again. "Gorou, are you bringing your girlfriend home this time? Should I notify the relatives?" She inquired—
Yes, this is precisely why I don't fancy making these phone calls.
"No, no, no, wait a moment! Grandma! Not every time I call it means I'm bringing a girlfriend home, okay!? I have other things to discuss!" I said, burying my face in my hands.
"Well, what could be more important than you bringing back my great-grandson? Gorou, you're nearly thirty now. There are only old folks and adults in our hometown, no children or babies. I'm bored! I wouldn't mind taking care of a child again, after all, I did help raise you!" she started to ramble.
"No, Grandma, aren't you missing several steps here? It's not like once you have a girlfriend, a baby pops out, right? Can't you just let things take their natural course? And today I really didn't call to talk about this!" I answered, feeling helpless.
"So, do you have a girlfriend?" She asked. "...No." I replied.
A moment later.
"Alright then, what did you need today?" she said, sounding a little impatient. "Do you remember what you used to cook for me when I was sick? The kind that made me feel better really quickly?" I asked her.
"I don't recall having any sort of family heirloom elixir. Or are you referring to the usual meals you ate when you were sick?" She asked. "...Yes, the latter. The meals you prepared when I was ill, do you remember them?" I clarified.
"...You don't sound sick to me?" She queried. "Uh...no, it's not me—" She cut me off. "Who are you cooking for?" She asked, seemingly curious. "Well, my neighbor—" She cut me off.
"Oh!? A girl?" She—what? "Does that matter?" I asked, looking ahead. "Of course, it concerns my great-grandchild." she proclaimed proudly.
"Grandma, please, can you stop fixating on having a great-grandchild?" I said.
After a pause.
"Okay, Gorou, it was lovely chatting with you today. Let's talk again another day. Bye—" I cut her off. "ALRIGHT! ALRIGHT! HOLD ON, DON'T HANG UP!" I shouted.
I took a deep breath.
"...Yes, she's a girl, are you satisfied now?" I finally answered. "Oh, I thought it might have been a boy. That's a relief." she responded—what?
"Grandma, you're being too pragmatic." I retorted. "This is about my great-grandchild—so when are you bringing her home?" she asked—wait, what?
"Grandma, first, she is my patient, second, we're not that close, and third, she's only sixteen." I responded.
"Gorou, first, so what? Does that matter? Second, you know they say 'familiarity breeds affection'! Third, I gave birth to your mother when I was sixteen." she countered—wait a minute, the third point, what the hell, sixteen? I never knew that.
"Grandma, what do you mean 'does it matter?' She's my patient, I'm an 'OB/GYN'. How do you think the baby in my patient's belly came about?" I told her seriously.
"And so?" She—really?
"Grandma, babies don't just spring from stones, nor do they reproduce asexually." I replied.
"What is reproduce asexually?" She asked.
…
"Anyway, Grandma! Times have changed. If this were to happen, I would be socially ostracized, seriously!" I told her.
"No worries! Then just wait until she's twenty! I can wait a few more years, no problem!" she said. "No, Grandma, this—wait! Today I really just called for a recipe! She's not feeling well right now, can we talk about this another time?" I asked her.
After a moment.
"Um...alright, rice porridge—add a little ginger, steam some chicken breast and dice it." she answered. "With ginger, right?" I repeated.
"Yes, you could also make her a vegetable soup! Add tomatoes, onions, and garlic. Oh yes, garlic is very important!" she instructed. "Alright, alright, garlic, got it." I echoed.
"I used to stir-fry some broccoli, but softer food is better for someone with a cold." she advised. "Mhm, I'll keep that in mind." I affirmed.
"Oh, our Gorou is finally cooking for a girl! It seems my teachings weren't in vain!" she said, laughing. "Grandma, can you not—" She cut me off.
"I thought that since the family persuaded you to become an OB/GYN, you had lost interest in cooking—"
...
Right, isn't it?
After the family convinced me to become an OB/GYN, how could they think I was still interested in cooking? I gazed at the blue sky ahead.
...
"Gorou?" She called. "Yes, Grandma, I hear you. Is that about it? I have to go, she's not feeling well." I told her. "Alright then! Don't forget to come visit Grandma when you're free! Bye!" she said. "Sure, I will, goodbye." I hung up.
...
I should have just googled it instead of putting myself through this. I looked at the black smoke billowing from the chimney in the distance.
Isn't this what they wanted? Isn't this what I had to do? Isn't this why I switched from being a surgeon to an OB/GYN?
After all, my mother—
I heard coughing from inside the room.
...
Now's not the time for these thoughts; she needs someone to look after her.
I slid open the balcony door and casually closed it behind me, moving closer to Hoshino-San, who seemed to be asleep on the sofa.
I thought about cooking at my place and bringing the meal over later, so as not to disturb her. After all, I just live next door.
Taking the key placed next to her entrance hall, I locked her door and returned to my place next door.
Back home, I took out the necessary ingredients from the fridge. To make a rice porridge with steamed diced chicken breast, I needed to find my steamer, which, luckily, I found after a brief search.
Taking out the chicken breast... ah, it needs defrosting.
Covering my face, I hadn't considered this. But I decided to use the microwave to thaw it.
I put the frozen chicken breast into the microwave and turned on the defrosting function, but I shortened the microwave time.
After each round of microwaving, I would move and turn the chicken breast. It's a bit of a hassle, but at least it ensures that every part defrosts evenly, to avoid some parts being cooked while others are raw.
Once the chicken breast was fully defrosted, it had a nice, even color—from pink to pale yellow. Despite being frozen, it was still not sticky and retained a certain firmness.
I took a sniff; it had no off-putting smell.
Next, I placed the defrosted chicken breast in the steamer and started to steam it. It should take around 20 minutes. Meanwhile, I planned to prepare a vegetable soup.
I cleaned the carrots, onions, garlic, and tomatoes, and cut them into appropriate sizes. I then grabbed a pan, heated a bit of oil, and started sautéing the garlic and onions until the onions turned semi-transparent.
Next, I added the diced carrots and tomatoes and continued to sauté for a while. A few moments later, I added an appropriate amount of water and covered the pan.
The simmering process also took about 20 minutes. By that time, I could start making the rice porridge. I picked up another pot, washed it clean, and washed a cup of rice as well, then drained the water and added four cups back.
After putting it on the stove, I turned on medium heat and slowly brought the rice to a boil until it softened. This also took about 20 minutes, by which time the porridge became thick. By then, the chicken breast was ready. I took it out and let it cool on a plate while checking on the vegetable soup.
Hmm, the scent of garlic was present but not overpowering.
A moment later, I checked on the rice porridge with a spoon. The grains were distinct but had clearly softened. When I lifted the spoon, a thin strand of white liquid was dragged up.
I diced the cooled chicken breast on a cutting board and added it to the porridge. I also prepared some ginger, grated an appropriate amount into the porridge, and waited for the ingredients to meld together.
The vegetable soup was about ready. I seasoned it with a bit of salt and pepper, then covered the pot and brought it over to Hoshino-San's house. Upon entering, I set it on the kitchen counter. She seemed to be sound asleep.
I returned home and saw that the porridge was almost ready, so I turned the heat down and picked up the frying pan, getting ready to stir-fry some broccoli.
I washed the broccoli and cut it into small pieces, then started stir-frying it in the preheated pan. During the process, I alternated between medium and low heat until the broccoli turned green and began to char slightly.
Recalling my grandmother's advice to make it softer, I added a small amount of water. After covering the pot, I turned the heat to low and let it simmer. I took the opportunity to serve the porridge to Hoshino-San, who seemed to have sensed it even in her sleep. With her eyes closed, she appeared to be smelling something.
After that, I dished out the cauliflower and added a touch of salt before bringing it over.
I took a brief rest on the sofa, picked up a tissue nearby, removed my glasses, and wiped the sweat off my face.
The morning sun was illuminating the entire room, and the wind chime on the balcony outside the glass door was gently chiming as always. The quiet hum of the air conditioning wasn't too loud.
Hoshino-San was still sound asleep on the long sofa to my left — albeit with a faint snoring due to her stuffy nose from a cold.
A little later, I went into the kitchen, picked up a bowl and spoon, lifted the pot lid, and served a bowl of porridge.
"Hoshino-San, can you eat?" I asked slowly, then brought the bowl closer to her.
I initially wanted to help her up, but she seemed to get up automatically at the scent of the food.
I handed her the bowl, and she held the spoon in her right hand with her eyes closed.
She scooped up a spoonful of porridge, then — it brushed past her upper lip.
...Uh.
She paused for a moment, then — this time it almost went into her nose.
"Hoshino-San, let me help you!" I said anxiously, fearing she might burn her nose next.
I scooped up a spoonful of porridge.
She kept her eyes closed, her delicate mouth slowly opening to let my spoon in. Once I put the spoon in, she closed her mouth, swallowed the porridge from the spoon. As I slowly pulled out the spoon, it seemed like she still wanted to keep it in her mouth.
She then swallowed, a smile creeping onto her face with her eyes still closed.
...This is just too cut-
No — no, I'm a doctor. I need to stay calm. She's my patient, and she's only sixteen.
I continued to feed her the remaining porridge.
A while later, I had managed to feed her half the bowl of porridge, and got her to have a few bites of the vegetables and vegetable soup.
She didn't seem to like garlic very much and now, with her eyes still closed, she was sitting on the sofa.
Thinking about it now, although I could take care of her all day, I don't have a car in case we need to rush to the hospital. I should contact her guardian.
"Hoshino-San, could you please..." Before I could finish, she had already laid down on the sofa and continued to sleep.
Alright then.
I helped her pull her feet onto the sofa, made her lie flat, covered her with a blanket, and planned to check her phone for an emergency dial setup to find an emergency contact.
Surprisingly, there was one.
I slid open the glass door, walked out onto the balcony, and made the call.

Hey guys, I'm a European student doing some research work about your City. For this I need a few things.

1. Reliable Statistics with maps. About anything, really: votes, prices, demography, employment, crimes, Reliable is the key-word.
   
2. I'm trying to find a problematic in Detroit (don't care about how big it is) and how you people (Government, citizen, anyone) are actively trying to stop it. It could be anything. I know Detroit has seen some shit in the past and I want to hear directly from the people how you're fighting to make it a better place. Even the smallest things are interresting.
   

I hope to get answers soon, post your idea even if you're not sure it's useful. love you guys

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

My team is working on a military service-specific smaller (7b) model, and an eventual concern is how to evaluate performance.

• Most Benchmarks seem a better choice for general purpose models than for measuring how much better a model now performs on service-relevant tasks
• Having SME's judge output might work but I know in my field (and the service) there will be concerns about human subjectivity.

One thing I've considered is cultural consensus modeling: if you ask members of a group to answers questions, culturally knowledgable members tend to load on the same answers, while less knowledgable ones have lower agreement. Imagine losing the answer key to a multiple choice test: the smart kids will tend to share answers, but the dumb kids tend to guess and thus have less agreement--the answers from the group with high loading are correct. So maybe rather than SME ratings of model answers, modeling SME answers to prompts and then measuring how well the pre-trained vs fine-tuned models align with the consensus?
Would love to hear some suggestions or if anyone knows of emerging best practices in evaluating these kind of fine-tuned models.

For those of you unaware or not American. A funny little gimmick of the US is that the national debt limit must be approved and expanded once every 2 years. This is sometimes said to be a way to ensure that the government stays responsible to its debt. However considering national debt is a farce and often used as a excuse to prevent spending on “non-essential” tasks. Such as feeding and housing people.
This gimmick also means that if say, a fascist party is in power, they can hold the debt limit hostage as to force concessions in both government and in government policy.
Well after weeks of touting the evilness of the Republican Party’s cuts and how they will mean destruction of the way of life for millions of Americans the Democratic Party acquiesced and agreed to the deal
Which would raise the work requirement to qualify for the paltry amount of benefits available to disenfranchised workers. Most of which work for Americas major corporations or their key industries.
This single change is expected to throw roughly 1 in 4 Americans on food stamps off the program and roughly 1 million older adults will find themselves unable to afford food in the coming year.
As the GOP hail this achievement, the details of which we will find out later today, the Democrats are remarkably (but not surprisingly) okay with it all including the agreement not to touch military spending until at least 2030.
Guaranteeing that more Americans then ever will struggle to survive as the US military continues to taken for a fool with American tax payers in tow.
We here have long argued that the notion of fighting the system from without is both highly unlikely and prone to pointless bloodshed as the bourgeoisie state fears not killing in the name of the protection of capital.
But days like today that future seems grimmer and more impossible then ever as the democrats bare their ugly faces once again to tell us that the stock market, it’s military and it’s subsidies to kulaks (small time, but wealthy landowners) are all more important then helping people acquire the most basic of life needs.
That bombing innocent people in Afghanistan and Syria, or Africa. Or that harassing China off its territorial waters somehow helps people more then giving them food and shelter.
When I say that we need to take hold of institutions I don’t mean we simply vote once a election and throw our hands up. But rather im calling for every one of you to enlist in the fight that is closest to you. Join you’re city council. Get hired as a staffer if that’s the best you can do. Infiltrate these institutions and take control of them from the inside. Everything from your local political party memberships and caucus for change. All the way to taking control of institutions such as the police and military positioning yourself in a way that can help others take control of this runway nation. All runaway states.
Because change is coming. Not the gradual Revolution of new ideas and new beliefs. But days like this it feels like a sudden change towards fascism is closer and closer. And if that happens it will take nothing less then my suggestion above to prevent the massacre of people and the falling into a pit too dark to ever climb out of. We can’t trust the democrats. We must take control of our institutions and society.

In the center of the house was a crackling fire, radiating warmth to those huddled around it. Outside, the wind was howling, snow slowly but surely piling around the walls and onto the roof. In this weather, perhaps the coldest in memory, there was little to do. Yet, even so, the adults were working on small crafts, repairing tools, clothes and making arrows in the dim light.
The crackling of the fire was interrupted by the words of a girl. "Oma", she said, looking to the old woman with affection, "would you please tell the story of the Winter Wanderer again?"
Oma smiled, looking up tiredly to meet the eyes of the girl. "Of course, little one.", she replied. Her breathing was shallow, and she could feel the chill in her bones, yet, all that seemed a little more distant when all eyes settled on her, eager to listen. These tales that she herself had listened to in winters long ago she now told and retold.
She began, "Long, long ago, before the trees of this house were even saplings, when the great ancients still walked the world..."
The bleating of a goat interrupted the tale, and the little girl took the opportunity to ask a question. "The great ancients? What were those Oma?", but the girls older brother pulled her closer and shushed her gently. "Let her continue."
A rasping breath, "...there was a young man, who tended his goats dutifully far beyond the mountains, as he had done, and his father before him. The mountains were the only home he knew. It was the middle of summer, yet seemingly overnight, the sun disappeared and snows began to fall. Winter had come, sudden and colder than the man had ever met before. The wind extinguished his fire and froze the water. Even the goats could not stand this misery, falling asleep, never to awake again. Only one, a young buck survived into the night, bleating insistently at his master from the edge of the camp. Looking up to the stars..."
Someone threw a new log on the fire, and sparks rose towards the roof, "...the goat herder saw a sign and knew it was not his fate to die in that terrible storm. He let himself be led by the goat, not straying even as the mountains approached, the ground rose and the weather became even colder. Multiple times, he was about to give up, but the buck bleated and tugged on him, and that same shining sign in the stars remained. Weary, cold and starved they finally reached the very tops of the mountain, and the young man was stunned by awe. A great land stretched beyond, green and yet untouched by the claws of winter."
Wide-eyed, the girl asked, "What happened after that Oma? What happened?"
Smiling, the old woman replied, "That is a story for another time, little one, now, get some sleep."

Serengrys

The lands inhabited by the Serengri lie along the southern edge of Tritoneas forested mountain range. The forested land is perfused by rivers and streams flowing from the mountains into the lands below. These serve not only as a source of sustenance in the form of fish and fresh water, but also as avenues of travel by canoe, connecting the sparsely settled Serengri people.

Livelihood

The Serengri live fairly spread out, finding sustenance from a multitude of different sources, largely hunting animals and gathering plants herbs. This is usually supplemented by either herding mountain goats or wild-rice agriculture and fishing along the rivers. However, in areas farther from the rivers, where rice is less available, chia has been cultivated with some success. In this small-scale agriculture, sickles have served as an important tool.
During winter months, grains, smoke cured fish and meats provide a steady diet, whilst the Serengri can hide away in their earth & wood homes built by mallet & shovel to make crafts out of wood, tanned goat hides and other materials at their disposal.

Society & Culture

Most Serengri live in relatively isolated settlements up to a handful of families - related by blood related to the matron - the eldest wedded woman. Inheritance and management of these multi-generational lands and settlements hence follows matrilineally. A clan can consist of roughly a dozen such settlements, tied together by marriages, where the husband of the most prosperous matron is considered the leader, representing the clan in political and diplomatic matters.
There are also a few larger settlements, having grown into existence due to their importance as minor trade hubs - tying the local region together and serving as gathering spots to mediate disputes and for the annual autumn festivals. Here, a law-giver, chosen by "vote" from amongst the local clan leaders, oversees matters of commerce, order and conflict.
When seeking courtship a young man must prove themselves worthy of the hand of a woman, showing that he can provide for her. This can come in many forms, such as being a craftsman or trader, through a dowry from his family, thus securing an alliance or by constructing a new homestead at an existing settlement or new location.
As such, it is not uncommon to find young men setting out with little more than a backpack and some tools to break a new plot of land and prove themselves worthy of the woman they are courting. So far, this has worked quite well with the sparse populous and a declining reliance on hunter-gatherer methods, but whether it is sustainable is yet to be seen.

Tech

Regional Package: Tritonea
Key technology: Tanning
Major technologies: Herbalism, Mountain Goats
Minor technologies: Sickle, Chia, Shovels, Backpacks, Smoke Curing

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

• ADVENTURE COMICS #58 (January)

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

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

• ADVENTURE COMICS #59 (February)

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

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

• ADVENTURE COMICS #60 (March)

Mystery at Malay Mac's - Fox, Grothkopf

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

• ADVENTURE COMICS #61 (April)

The Menace of the Metal Gun - Fox?, Flessel

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

• ALL-STAR COMICS #4 (April)

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

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

• ADVENTURE COMICS #62 (May)

The Purple Death Ray - Fox?, Flessel

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

• ADVENTURE COMICS #63 (June)

The Voodoo Sorcerer - ???, Flessel

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

• ADVENTURE COMICS #64 (July)

The Unseen Man - ???, Flessel

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

• ALL-STAR COMICS #5

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

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

So I need help coming up with a name for a pureblood cult for my fanfiction. It’s basically a cult built on blood purity, and has a lot of basis in Roman and Greek traditions, with some Celtic ones mixed in. So far, I’ve been referring to it in my notes as “The Society”, but I feel like I need a better name for it.
Any suggestions?

So I need help coming up with a name for a pureblood cult for my fanfiction. It’s basically a cult built on blood purity, and has a lot of basis in Roman and Greek traditions, with some Celtic ones mixed in. So far, I’ve been referring to it in my notes as “The Society”, but I feel like I need a better name for it.
Any suggestions?

When the whole human society center on deceiving other people and telling lies.....
For example, when you are doing an interview, you cannot be 100% honest about every question, otherwise, you will have a very high chance to fail.
In my first interview about 13-15 years ago, one of the interviewers asked me "Will you accept overtime work?", I answered "of course, if with overtime paid". I didn't get the job, but other people later told me that I had answered that question wrongly, I should have just said "yes".
When I was a kid, my parents used to do my art homework (because my works were rubbish, according to them). On one occasion, my dad did a model of Sun-Moon-Earth with motion (he was in the civil engineering industry), and I was 12 years old, it was impossible for me to build that thing on my own. Ofcourse, my teacher asked me that did I build it myself, I said "no". Then, after school, I was criticized by my parents (for being honest).
Last week, I read an article about a kid who told the teacher that she had marked his paper wrong, and a mark should be deducted from his exam paper. Then, the reaction from the internet was mainly that "the guy will grow up and become a snitch" / "he will not have a good relationship with his classmate"
In the workplace, if you are completely honest to everyone else, particularly your customers, probably you will make a lot of enemies.
I am expecting a baby girl this year, today, in the street, I suddenly wondered, should we really teach our kid to be honest? when telling lie give an obvious advantage, or in reverse, being honest give you a big disadvantage in the real life

I have been hitting the brick wall for many years now with the mystery of Carl Petter Schylander and Catharina. So I need all the help I can get!
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I and several others in Norway have long tried to find out about the origins of two Swedes who immigrated to Nordland on the coast of Norway. Namely the couple Carl Petter (b. c. 1764 - 28 April 1823) and Catharina PehrsdotteOlsdotter (b. c. 1764 - 1842). It is my ancestor which makes it interesting for me, but the circumstances of their coming to Norway is an exciting mystery in itself. Exactly when and why they came to Norway is a mystery. These were turbulent years in Europe, Denmark-Norway and in Sweden, so moving without further ado from Sweden via Nasafjell to Nesna and Dønnes in Norway was not an everyday occurrence. Immigration from Sweden to Norway and vice versa is not new, in the second half of the 19th century 100,000 moved from Sweden to Norway, a full three-quarters of the foreign population in the 1900 census was from Sweden. But this was after liberalization policies that had solved compulsory service, the obligation for the propertyless to take up work, ceased in Norway only in 1854, and the tradition of taking up new service only in spring and autumn persisted longer. The passport requirement was abolished even later, first in 1860.
​
At the end of the Great Nordic War and until the peace of Nystadt in 1721, it became clear that Sweden had to have a fleet that could fight near the coast and in the archipelago. To take up the fight with Russia's new galley fleet that was ravaging the Swedish coast. The Swedish naval fleet was not created to fight in the archipelago. Tsar Peter the Great had in his service a Dalmatian Greek sailor, Admiral Count Ivan Botsis, who had previously served in the Venetian fleet and learned there to build galleys. A rowing galley that made it possible to attack even when the wind was calm. So after the peace of Nystadt, the Swedish leadership decided that the naval fleet should acquire a number of galleys and build a galley fleet. The galeiflåtta was stationed at Skeppsholmen in Stockholm and the squadron came to be called Stockholm's squadron. The fleet became known as Arméns flotta or Skärgårdsflottan and existed from 1756 to 1826. The fleet consisted of smaller vessels that could easily navigate and fight in the Swedish archipelago, corresponding to the Norwegian fleet force often called Roflotiljen. By royal decree 18 October 1756, the army fleet was officially created and was thereby separated from the naval fleet. The fleet's founder Augustin Count Ehrensvärd (1710-1772) and his son, Admiral Carl August Count Ehrensvärd (1745-1800), became commander from 1784 to 1790 of the fleet, which was developed with, among other things, knowledge from similar fleets in the Mediterranean. Gustaf 3's Russian war broke out in 1788, at the outbreak of the war the ancestor Carl Petter was approx. 22 years old. Two years into the war in 1790, former commander of the volunteer company, lieutenant colonel Johan Gustaf count Lagerbielke (1745-1812) as commander of the Stockholm Squadron.
Skeppsholm became Sweden's naval headquarters when the naval staff moved there in 1634 from the nearby old Skeppsholm, which is now called Blasieholmen. But not long after during the Scanian War 1675-1679, it was decided to move the military base to the newly founded Karlskrona in Blekinge to secure the newly acquired regions in the south. Skeppsholm's glory days as the navy's headquarters were over, but military activity did not end. It is here that first source of Carl Petter appears as volunteer no. 29 in the premier major's company at Skeppsholm's assembly in Stockholm where the fleet was stationed. Skeppsholm assembly in Stockholm also known as the Admiralty assembly or Holmkyrkan's assembly. Flottan's assembly was a non-territorial military assembly. Christina Charlotta Schylander is baptized here on 12 May 1794 by midwife Johanna Berggren. Pastor at Flottan Natanael Larsson Lithander (1790-1808) confirms three days later the baptism of the daughter of Carl Petter Schylander and his wife Catharina Pehrsdotter. Among the witnesses were lieutenant colonel high-born herr Axel Otto count Cronhielm (1751-1809) of Hakunge and lieutenant Ekstedt. Christina Charlotta does not appear again, and since it was an emergency baptism, it is likely that she died young.
The volunteers were enlisted personnel, i.e. permanent employees. They were also called "marinärer" and their main task was to operate the naval artillery. During the period Carl Petter was a "volantaire" Finland was and a central part of the area the Skærgårdsflottan was supposed to protect. The Skærgårdsflottan's greatest victory was the Battle of Svensksund in 1790 when a larger Russian force was defeated, but it was not enough to stop Russia finally conquering the Duchy of Finland from Sweden in 1809. At this time it was Johan Gustaf count Lagerbielke (1745-1812 ) who was commander-in-chief from 1790-1811. Carl Petter was around 30 years old in 1795, which makes it highly probable that he had all served in Gustav III's Russian war from 1788-1790, he would have been 24 years old at the outbreak of the war. If that was the case, he maybe participated in the Battle of Svensksund in 1789.
Carl Petter is listed as the father again the following year on 17. Sep. 1795 at the baptism of his son Carl Petter Sylander in Lövsta, Ed socken. He is still a volunteer at Armén's fleet and his wife Catharina Sylander is stated to be 28 years old. The godfathera are Lieutenant-Colonel count Cronhielm, his stepmother high-born countess Mrs. Christina Cronhielm, nee Baroness Rålamb, Fänrik (ranks above sergeant and below sub-lieutenant.) Mr. Conrad Vilhelm Ankarcrona (1733-1809) of Runsa and his daughter Miss Margreta Elisabeth Ankarcrona (1777-1838). Both Ankarcrona and Cronhielm had estates in the area.
Nasa silver works
Carl Petter and Catharina probably came around around 1800 to Norway from "Nasa Seilfver Grufvor in Pitteå Lappmark, Ærjeplougs Sochn." The mines were located by the mountain Nasa about 36 miles from Piteå, not far from the border with Norway. There was some traffic between the mines and Norway, probably per horse hoof. The Nasaleden, as this route is called today, mostly ran from Piteå. Nasafjell's silver works was a silver mining operation in Pite Lappmark that took place during two periods, 1635–1659 and 1770–1810. The management of The mill was taken over by the notary Fredrik Jonsson in 1797, a man with big plans but little experience of silver works. He soon got the mill people against him, and the workers who had been permanent residents in Adolfstrøm got tired and moved from there. Mining was therefore carried out on a small scale, and hut density was at an all-time low in 1797-1800. In the autumn of 1801, Fredrik Jonsson moved from Lapland and later went bankrupt. His rights in the company were transferred to one of his creditors, Major Georg Bogislaus Staël von Holstein (1740-1814) in Stockholm. He made great efforts for the Lapland colony station and "cultivation", but did not succeed in saving the silver works. Even with extensive repairs and rebuilds in Adolfstrøm led by the former geschworner at Dannemora mine, Leonard Horneman, silver production remained insignificant. Staël von Holstein became more indebted, and in 1810 he left Adolfstrøm never to return. Mining activity on Nasafjellet and in Adolfstrøm thus ceased completely. In 1821, the entire cottage facility burned down, except for the dwelling house. With this information many have assumed that Carl Petter and family just came via the area, and did not work or stay there.
Dr. Wayne Mitchell said that his grandmother claims that either Carl or Catherina came from a noble family and that they came from Russia. She also claimed that they had to flee the country and when they reached the border crossing between Sweden and Norway that they bribed the border guards with jewels. Harald Bertrand Eckhold from Kragerø told in 1988 that his mother-in-law Åsta Marie Isaksen (1898-1974), great-great-granddaughter of Carl Petter senior, told him in 1956 that Carl Petter Sjølander came to Norway with a small chest full of jewels. And that Carl Petter had said "No one should know who my mother is." That the Sylander family had some noble origin is probably very unlikely, but that it came to Norway in the form of them fleeing from something is a possibility. There is indeed a family with a similar name from Kalmar that was ennobled on 10 June 1812 with registry number 2225. The family possibly starts with Corporal Sven Christoffersson and Catharina Strømsten, who are believed to be the parents of Jonas Sylvander, born around 1700. He married in the 1730s with Sara Anna Hallenberg (1711-1785 in Målilla), daughter of Sheriff Gabriel Hallenberg and Maria Ljungstrøm (-1774 in Ljungby). Their son Johan Gabriel S. (1767-1833) in Stockholm married for the first time to Eva Elisabet Molin (1738-1776). They first had their daughter Anna Britta Sylvander (1762-1844) married to the ship clerk Clas Johan Zander. And then his son Josua Sylvander. Interestingly, Josua marries for the third time countess Lovisa Gustava Ottiliana Cronhielm af Hakunge (1788-1842), daughter of the previously named count Cronhielm and his wife baroness Amalia Fredrika Carlsdtr. Pechlin von Løwenbach (1867-1824).
Catharina's parentage.A possible person who may be identical, with Catharina Pehrsdotter Schillander but very uncertain, is Katharina Olofsdotter born on 7 April 1757 in Arjeplog, daughter of Olof Mårtenson "Nybyggare, expeditionslänsman och snickare i Sakkavare, Arjeplog" born ca. 1728 and died on 19 March 1786 and his wife Karin "Caisa" Persdotter born on 1731 and died on 15 November 1792 also in Sakkavare, Arjeplog. Olof Mårtensson and Karin Persdotter were married in Arjeplog on 11 April 1757. Karin Persdotter was the daughter of PePehr Larsson and Karin Olofsdotter Laestander. Year of birth is very uncertain but probably around 1710. At the court in Arjeplog on 30 January 1731 where her father Olof Laestander puts "church pastor" Sjul Granberg's son Per Larsson before the court, Karin is stated to be 24 years old but the following year, at the court on 26 February 1732, she is noted to be 19 years old. After Karin O. Laestander's death in 1739, Karin Persdotter was adopted by her maternal uncle Petter Olofsson Laestander. This Katharina Olofsdotter moved from Arjeplog around 1780 when one of the parents died, this must be the father Pehr Larsson, since the mother Karin O. Lestander is said to have died in 1739. The adoptive parents, i.e. her uncle Petter O. Lestander and his wife Margareta Svedberg cannot be, since they died later than that. Nasafjell is not far from Arjeplog. And especially considering Catharina uses two patronymics during her life, both Persdatter and Olsdatter, which is consistent with the possible use of patronymics if she did not really want to associate herself with her biological father, which one might think is the case if the reader between the lines. But again this is speculation!
In Norway.
The first definitive trace of Carl Petter in Norway is at Dønnes manor during the census in 1801. Carl Petter Schillander is listed here as the first servant of five to a visiting merchant Berg. Furthermore, in addition to the lords of the farm, there is a Lapland forster boy, eight maids and a widow "in the house of charity". The lord of the house is the widow of lieutenant colonel Isach Jørgen Coldevin (1724-1793), housewife Maria Anna Emahus Tønder (1731-1802) and their son and heir war councilor Hans Emahus Tønder Coldevin (1754-1835). Daughter Else Maria Coldevin (1753-). And in the "house of charity" the widow Anna Cathrine Tobine Sommer (1725-1811), sister of Isach Jørgen. The same census is Catharina Pedersdtr. Schillander with the children Carl Petter and Caroline stated as lodging with a homestead Slåttvik not far from Dønnes with the homestead family Gabriel Andersen (1752-1813) and his third wife Aleth Sophia Johansdtr. (1764-). Whether Carl Petter remained a servant for a long time with the Coldevin family is uncertain. But in 1803 they had a son Isak Jørgen Dass Siølander, baptized in Lurøy church named after the lords of Dønnes and Lurøy. It is Isach Jørgen's eldest daughter Stinchen Catharina Coldevin (1752-1845) and her husband skipper and merchant Christen Dass (1743-1791) who own Lurøy estate. Their son Isach Jørgen Coldevin Dass (1772-1836) is among the godfathers at Isach Jørgen Dass Siølander's baptism.
In 1815, Moflaget farm was vacant. Carl Petter and Catharina must have well liked with the venerable housewife Dass since she wanted them as tenants at Moflaget. Housewife Dass owned Sør-Solvær including Moflaget until 1825. This was an inheritance from Dønnes estate and not originally part of Lurøy estate. In the following land registry, Carl Petter and Catharina take over the building on the entire Moflaget in 1816. Two years later on 10 October 1817, the first of the children, Karl Petter Schiølander, marries Maren Hansdtr. Slåtterøy. And not long after at Solvær in 1818, the first grandchild Katrina Margrethe Sckelander arrives, unfortunately she will also be the first grandchild to perish when she all dies the following year. But all in 1823, Carl Petter probably perishes when he is lost at sea on 28 April 1823 at the age of approx. 58 years. But he leaves behind a family that will have many descendants in Norway, USA and more.
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Sources

• 12. mai 1794. Dåp av Christina Charlotta Schylander (1794-). Faddere: Axel Otto greve Cronhielm (1751-1809) av Hakunge, Axel Abraham Ekstedt (1766-1834) og Natanael Larsson Lithander (1790-1808). ”Skeppsholms församling i Stockholm - 1794 Maj 12/Dito(21) - Christina Charlotta. - Vol. no 29 Prem. Maj. Comp. Carl Peter Schylander, dess hustru Cathar. Pehrsdotter. Öfversteleutnanten Grefve Axel Cronhjelm. Leutnant Ekstedt. Pastorskan Lithander Demoiselle Nöddopet af Barnmorskan Johanna Berggren confirmerades d:15 af ord. Bat: Past: Lithander.". CI:3 (1787-1834) Bild 92 / sid 175 (AID: v89892.b92.s175, NAD: SE/SSA/0014).
• 19. sep 1795. Dåp Carl Petter Sylander. Faddere: Axel Otto greve Cronhielm (1751-1809) av Hakunge, hans stemor fru Christina friherrinne Rålamb gift grevinne Cronhielm, Conrad Vilhelm Ankarcrona (1733-1809) til Runsa og hans datter frøken Margreta Elisabeth Ankarcrona (1777-1838). "Stockholms län. Eds socken, Löfsta - Soffia - Carl Petter - född d.17 döpt d.19 September. Volontairen vid Armeens flotta Carl Petter Sylander, Hust. Catharina Sylander 28 år kyrktogs d. 3 octob. Vittnen Öfverste Leutnanten Högvälborne Grefvej Hr Axel Otto Cronhjelm. Statsfrun Högvälborna Grefvinna fru Christina Cronhjelm född Rålamb. Fendricken Herr Conrad Ankarcrona fröken Margreta Elisabeth Ankarcrona.”. Ed CI:2 (1745-1803) Bild 102 / sid 195 (AID: v94391.b102.s195, NAD: SE/SSA/1497.

The first source in Norway is the census of 1801 (Census 1801 for 1828P Nesna parish. Permanent page Link. Permanent picture link) where they are referred to as Carl Petter and Cathrina Pedersdatter Schillander. Where he is the first servant on Dønnes estate and she is Swedish and earns her living with hand work "Er svendsk og ernærer sig med haandarbeyd". Converted from the given age, they were born about 1764 and their son Carl Petter junior, 6 years old, i.e. born about. 1795. Furthermore, they and their descendants are well documented in Norway where they have many descendants.During the Napoleonic Wars, conscription was introduced in northern Norway and crew rolls were kept. Carl Petter is listed here with Stockholm as his birthplace in 1809 and 1811 (microfilm NT195). Converted from the stated age from the crew rolls, he should have been born in about 1766. In 1832, at her daughter Caroline Frederikke Sjølander's wedding, her place of birth is given as "Nasa Brug in Westerboten in Sverrig." (Nordland fylke, Lurøy, Ministerial book no. 839A03 (1825-1862), Ekteviede 1833, page 378. Permanent page link. Permanent image Link.). Slightly converted if the source is correct, she was born before 14 October 1803.
There are many sources about the family in Norway, but none that provide any more information about their Swedish origins.
Geni: Link
Frode sin Slektside: Link
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Some variations of the family name in Norway: 1801: Schillander (2x sources), 1805: Siölander (1x source), 1817: Schiölander (1x source), 1818: Sckelander (1x source), 1820: Sjölander (17x sources), 1823: Schjolander ( 1x source), 1823: Sylander (4x source), and more. I know that the ending -ander means man. But I'm not sure what the first link can come from. I have speculated whether it could come from Latin silva or Greek xýlon both meaning forest. But as likely as name researcher Eva Brylla answered me "Hi Mats! In Sweden the old name types are tied to the different places. Names in Greek. names with Latin endings in –(i)us. Often they were formed into a place name, like Sylvanus or Sylvander into a place name Skog = forrest. Schillander can therefore be formed into a place name in Skill(-), e.g. Skillberga . One such example was a Swede on his way to "London and beyond" via Ålesund in 1859. His name was Nils Peder Sylander and he came from Silonger parish in Sundsvall. But after searching a bit, there are quite a few places in Sweden and Finland that you can use as a starting point to form the first part of the family name.
Here are some of the forums that discuss Carl Petter and Catharina:
2000- Arkivverket: Link
2002-2008 Akrivverket: Link
2011-2017 Slekt og Data: Link
rotter.se: Link

Hello, and welcome to RepWeidianSneakers! Whether you’re a long-time member or someone new who just straggled in from one of the other replica subreddits, this recurring post will serve as an introduction to or reminder of the subreddit rules. This group runs in several key ways that may be different from other groups to ensure we maintain a high-quality group where well-informed replica buyers can engage in constructive conversation regarding the best batches for various shoes, batch flaws of popular and commonly purchased batches, and QC posts of new and old products alike.
Please do your best to stay up-to-date on the latest subreddit rules and cultural norms in order to make sure that your participation in the group is in accordance with how we run things here! All sub rules are visible along the side bar if on desktop, and under the "About" tab if on mobile. We appreciate your attention and diligence to subreddit policies, and hope you enjoy your time here!
The following rules will be outlined in the following ways:

1. Most Important Rule of the Sub
2. Post Formats (QC, Find, Help Me Find)
3. General Subreddit/Reddit-Wide Rules

Rule #1: Sneakers from Weidian, TaoBao only
This one should be self-explanatory - QCs for shoes purchased from middlemen are not allowed on this sub. I understand that many users value the input from members in this subreddit specifically due to their reputation and credibility, but we want to keep this sub as pure to its purpose as possible. If there are specific people from whom you want input from, feel free to post in the other rep subs and tag them.
Additionally, when users ask for recommendations on where to purchase, make sure to provide links to Weidian or TaoBao stores, and not middlemen. Middlemen sell Weidian/TaoBao products at a markup for convenience - always focus on the actual product.
Rule #2: QC Post Title Guidelines: [QC] {Price in Yuan} {Batch} {Shoe Name} from {Seller Name}
When posting your QCs or Finds, use the following format: [QC] {Price in Yuan} {Batch} {Shoe Name} from {Seller Name}. Example: [QC] 400¥ FK Batch Travis Scott x Jordan 1 High OG Mocha from A GDJ Supplier
The Group Automod comments on every single post in this group with a reminder of this title format. If your title does not include each of the necessary components in the brackets above, please be proactive and repost with the correct format. If you don’t delete the post, a moderator will, and that or repeated infractions may result in a temporary ban from the group. This rule exists to ensure the group is easily searchable to help make researching batches on your own as streamlined as possible.
Rule #3: QC Posts need W2C Link:
If you are posting a QC, make sure to post the W2C link. If the listing link is dead, please post the link to the store where the shoe was purchased instead. No W2C link will result in the deletion of your post!
You are welcome to post Weidian links, TaoBao links, or links from any shipping agent except for PandaBuy, given that PandaBuy forces you to login to see the item, whereas the other agent links do not. Linking a PandaBuy link and not an alternative link will result in the deletion of your post.
Rule #4: Help Me Find Post Title Guidelines: [HELP ME FIND] {Shoe Name} + Picture of Shoe
If you are hunting for a certain pair, your post title must include the Full Shoe Name and Colorway as well as a picture of the shoe in question. If either is missing, your post will be deleted. This rule exists to reduce the number of repetitive “Help Me Find” posts, as a user will be able to search previously posted “Help Me Find” posts for the shoe they want.
Example: [HELP ME FIND] Jordan 1 High Chicago
Rule #5: Find Post Title Guidelines: [FIND] {Price in Yuan} {Batch} {Shoe Name} from {Seller Name}
Okay, so you’re on WeChat, and a seller has posted a new product. You want to be the first one to post about it on Reddit, so you rush over and make the post. Great, pat yourself on the back. Just kidding. Don’t just stop there - put some thought into the post. How does this new find compare to other products on the market? Do they have potential? You don’t have to be an expert QCer, but give your general thoughts. In short, were these worth finding? The hope is that with this general subreddit policy, it will encourage people to post high-quality finds and reduce clutter from low-tier finds that don’t add much to the group.
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In line with the previous rule, no cussing on the sub, please. Often, on the rep subs, the only time people are cussing is to insult one another, spread misinformation, or speak illy in general. For this reason, an AutoMod is in place that will regulate posts and comments on the sub. Your post/comment will be deleted and you will receive a message alerting you if this happens. Bonus: Mr. Frosty can't post or comment without some sort of explicit language, so this simple rule (and the accompanying AutoMod) keeps the sub safe
Rule #8: Support Your Statements with Evidence
Essentially, cite your source. Let's avoid being like other rep subs where people make up rumors or decide their opinions without any research or evidence.
If you comment saying a batch is the best or better than what has been posted, show us why. Link reference posts, rep vs retails, QCs, etc. Show, rather than tell, us why what you're saying is correct. If your statement is a good one, this shouldn't be difficult. As above, don't default to name calling if you can't support your statement. It is okay to have a well-informed opinion - it is not okay to have an uneducated opinion that you spread as fact.
If you run into issues with a member or members in the group that are not participating in this group norm, please tag a mod, and the situation will be handled accordingly.
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Self-explanatory. This especially applies to lost middlemen posting their fake QCs to try to gain business. If you are a member and see this, please report the post. If a post receives enough reports, it is automatically removed and sent to the mod queue. This helps keep the group clean through community effort.
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I understand that you may want your WeChat verified in order to communicate with sellers or see their WeChat Moments. There are other subs for WeChat Verifications though. Please do not make these posts here. Use the appropriate subs. Posts will be deleted.
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This group aims to be a research-focused subreddit. It prides itself on providing the most objective information possible. Please keep the memes or satire posts in other subs. This includes meme titles or captions such as "how fast do I need to walk" or "fire up the rep machines." These posts add little to no value and are often unoriginal anyway.
Any use of meme titles will result in a 14-day temp ban as previously announced, as will repeated infractions of posting other memes.
Lastly, this Group is Not Meant to Be a Direct Line to u/poncecatchemall
Please reference his guides and resources linked below for answers to most commonly asked questions. He does not read chats asking repetitive questions, and mod mail is not meant to be used to ask specifically him questions, so do not use it for that purpose.
- Poncecatchemall’s Recently Updated Beginner’s Batch Guide where I cover top batches for popular shoes.
- Poncecatchemall’s Select Weidian/TaoBao Finds: November 2022 Edition covering popular purchases with all W2C Links
- Never used an agent? Check out Poncecatchemall’s Updated Weidian, TaoBao, Agent: How-To Guide for a step-by-step guide on how to purchase reps using WeGoBuy
- How to Ask Poncecatchemall For a QC/LC please follow these instructions if you want a response.
​
Thank you in advance to everyone for following the sub rules and for keeping this sub a great, high-quality sub to be a part of. If there are any rule addition recommendations, we are always open to suggestions.

I love lights because they represent something remarkable to me.
Since the dawn of man, we've been perpetually frustrated in our efforts to explore by many things– distance, predators, hostile environs unsuitable to travel– but worst of all in its regularity, duration, and unconquerability was Night. See it comes each day, without fail. It is all-encompassing and existentially terrifying in its unknowable depth. It quiets talk, slows movement, and steals time. And for years, centuries, millennia, eons, we have fought against it.
Fire was our first blow in this ancient battle. With fire, we beat back the shadows, and saw that it was good. We fashioned torches, s candles, then lanterns, and we were able to move sea the darkness without fear of unseen attackers, absent of the timeless danger of stubbed toes.
But it was not enough.
With the advent of electricity, illumination sprang forward as never before. The oldest among the lucky men who witnessed this transformation of society grumbled among themselves that such light wasn't natural; that we were fools to meddle with nature in this way, that artificial light would be an insidious presence in civilization, tempting us with convenience at the expense of our natural state.
But we did not listen.
Soon, towns and cities across the globe glowed at night brightly enough to be seen by ships across Great Lakes, brightly enough to be seen even from the ships newly buzzing across suddenly accessible skies. It was the Age of Light– and it is the age of light, and it always will be, from that point on.
But still we found ourselves frustrated.
Science and new technologies had given us cheap, warm light in our homes and on our streets– but for those who yearned for the exploration of days past, diving deep into the ocean or hiking into ageless woods, night still meant an end to a day's journey.
And so we persevered.
We created packages of electricity and called them batteries and we created lights small enough to carry. And we made them smaller and better each time until we came to today, a magical time for flashlights, when you can buy a light that will shine for a kilometer, or one that's 900 lumens but smaller than my big toe. They take batteries and use LEDs that represent billions of dollars of R&D, decades of engineering and refinement, and they're still working on it.
Many creation myths begin with a point of light. A beam erupts from the darkness, piercing it, driving it away utterly, and so the universe is born. I'm an atheist, but I get a small thrill when I light up a field or send a pillar of light into the sky. There's a reason we shot two beams of hope and resilience into the empty air where the twin towers stood.
Light is life.
TL;DR Flashlights represent the best of humanity, and I lose my keys a lot.
“You'll carry an umbrella when there's only a 30% chance of rain, but every night there is a 100% chance of darkness.”