I finish my breakfast to the protests of Shadow. “I don’t want to hear it. You don’t need to eat. You’re just being difficult.”
Shadow rubs his face on my leg. “That’s what I thought. You were just bullshitting. I’m surprised you and Pops don’t hang out more.”
I get up and clean the dishes. Then I finish dressing. Today is going to be a scorcher so I’ve opted for linen pants and a linen shirt. Shadow continues his protests at me leaving. I pick him up. “How dare I leave more than six feet from you? The gall I posses.” I say as I rub his head. “The day is young and people may need my help. Besides, don’t you have work to do? I saw a mouse scamper by just last night.”
Shadow meows.
“A tricky adversary? I can relate. I’ll be back around lunchtime.” I say as I lower the protesting Shadow.
I sigh to prepare myself for the heat that is about to hit me. I open the door and walk out.
Yup.
It is going to be nasty today. As I walk through the town, I pass Cecil sitting on his porch.
“Morning Papa Bones.”
“Morning Cecil.” I say as I open the gate and walk into his yard.
“Your a better man than me braving this heat. My white ass would burn to a crisp.”
“Not going to lie. It’s not going to be fit for man or beast today.” I say as I sit down on a rocking chair. I see a pitcher sitting on the table in between us. “What’s that?” I ask.
“Mojito. What a glass?”
“It’s a little early but sure.”
Cecil pours a glass and hands it over.
I take a sip and cough. “Merde.”
“Yup. The only thing to do today is get shitfaced.” Cecil says.
“What’s in this? Rocket fuel?”
“Not that far off.” Cecil says.
“Not going to lie. It’s refreshing.”
“Mildred doesn’t have many talents but one of them is making an excellent mojito.”
I take another sip. I suppose one way to get past the heat is to get drunk.
“What’s going on? I head a man as entered the town. Vincent is his name, I believe.” Cecil says.
“Correct. I think he is passing through. Hope so anyway.”
“Our little town is growing. Two new families just moved in.”
“I’ve heard. Haven’t met them yet.” I say.
“I’ve met the white family. They seem nice. They seemed completely charmed by Ayzian.”
“Ayzian does have its charms.” I say before taking another sip of the refreshing, minty, lime green rocket fuel.
“Haven’t met the other family yet. Heard they were nice as well.” Cecil informs me.
“You’ve given me an idea, Cecil. I think I will go meet our new neighbors.”
“Quite neighborly of you Julian. They will like that.”
“Well, we aren’t northerners.”
“God and the Loa has blessed us in that regard.” Cecil says before taking a sip of his drink.
“I’ll drink to that.” I say before we clink glasses.
I finish my drink and put the glass down. “I should go.”
“No need to rush off. Stay awhile.” Cecil tells me.
“I can’t sit around and get shitfaced with you all day.”
“Well, if you change your mind. I’ll be here. Hey, if you see Pops. Tell him if he wants his ass kicked again in dominos. He knows where to find me.”
I chuckle as I get up. “I will absolutely tell him that.”
I walk down the path to the gate. As I continue my walk. I see one of the houses of the new families. From what I see. It’s just mom dad and daughter. I stop at the gate and wave at them. “Hello.”
The father stops his yard work and walks towards me. I hold out my hand. “I’m Julian. Welcome to Ayzian.”
He shakes my hand. “Hey, I’m Bill. That’s my wife Suzan and our daughter Mary.”
“Well, Bill. How are you finding Ayzian so far?” I ask.
Susan over hears this as she walks up. “It’s been wonderful so far. Everyone has been so nice. Sweetheart, come here. This is Julian.”
The little girl walks up and I kiss the back of her hand. “Enchante”
“What did you say?” Mary asks.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I thought you were a princess.” I say.
“No, she absolutely thinks she is one.” Bill teases.
“Daddy!” Mary cries.
“Well, I hope you find Ayzian to your liking.” I tell them.
“So far, so good.” Susan tells me.
“We’ve heard about this man named Papa Bones. We are kinds anxious to meet him.” Bill says.
“Well, you’re in luck. I’m Papa Bones.”
Mary giggles. “That’s a funny name.”
I smile as I lower myself so we could be eye to eye. “It is a title of my region. Voodoo.”
“Voodoo?” Asks Mary.
“Yes. Ayzian was founded on Voodoo. This place was created by free slaves and the white people that helped them. All are welcome here.” I tell her.
“Cool.”
“Very cool. You can find out more at our library.”
“Can me go, mom?” Mary asks Susan.
Susan smiles at her. “We sure can.”
I stand. “I should go. If you ever need anything. Don’t hesitate to ask.”
“We won’t.” Bill says as he holds out his hand.
Before I shake it. I notice Bill has biker tattoos on his forearm. We shake and I leave.. I continue my walk. I’m buoyed by meeting the first family. I go directly to the house of the second family. I knock on the door and it is opened by the husband. He is a large black man. Covered in gang tattoos.
“Can I help you?” He asks.
“I’m Papa Bones. Community leader. I just wanted to welcome you to Ayzian.”
“Thanks brother. Not sure we will stay. I didn’t realize so many white people lived here. My family is looking for a place we can feel safe.”
I’ve encountered this attitude from people before. People from the big cites are the worst offenders.
I give the man a smile. “White people also helped found Ayzian. All are welcome here. The white people were also hunted by slave owners and would have been killed along side their black brothers. To paraphrase Dr. Martian Luther King. Only the quality of one’s character matters here.”
“Yeah. I’m sure you believe that.”
“I do. Everyone here does. If it helps, over half of the town is mixed now.”
The husband cuts me off. “Can I help you with something?”
“Just wanted to welcome you to Ayzian. What is your name by the way?” I ask.
“Jerome. Have a nice day.”
Jerome shuts the door in my face.
I walk down the path to the street.
He just needs time. Ayzian gives everyone a clean slate to start over. This is a place of healing. Time is the thing needed for some people. Ayzian works in mysterious ways but it always works. During my walk, I enter the town park. As I do, several kids run up to me. “Papa Bones!”
“How are you kids doing today?” I ask.
“Doing good. Hey, are the stories true?” A girl asks me.
“What stories?”
“About how you helped Vincent destroy the sky monster.”
“It didn’t happen like that. Vincent told you a tall tale.”
“He said you would say that.” A boy says.
“Did he now?”
“He said you would be mad at the truth.” Another boy explains.
“I will talk to him. Take any story from him with a grain of lies.”
“Vincent says people that don’t look good in stories, their version is full of lies.” Another girl says.
“Not true. If you will excuse me. I must talk to Vincent.”
I leave the children as they run back into the park to play. This conversation has irritated me. I will have to use sterner language the next time I talk to Vincent. In fact I will do that now. Id bet money he is staying at the bed and breakfast. So I go there and enter. Magdalene the owner greets me. “Julian. Nice to see you.”
“Nice to see you too. Tell me, is there a man named Vincent staying here?” I ask.
“Why yes he is. Paid for a whole month upfront. Such a nice man.”
“I see. Is he here now?”
“No. He left after breakfast.”
“Did he say when he will be back?” I ask.
“No. He didn’t. Want to leave a message for him?”
“No. I’ll find him. Thanks anyway.” I say.
I leave the bed and breakfast. I stand out front with my hands on my hips and think for a second. I have few ideas where he could be and with a lack of options, I head towards the swamp outside of town. It payed off the last time a stranger came to town. As I walk, sweat starts to cover my body. Thankfully I’m still a little buzzed from the mojito earlier. It does help with the heat but man, I could use a glass of cold water now. As I near the outskirts of town, I head in the direction of Amos’s house. When I get there, I see him on the dock. Repairing his airboat. “Hey Amos. How are you?” I call out.
Amos stands and looks at the airboat. “Be better if this piece of shit was fixed.”
“Something happen or is this routine maintenance.” I ask.
“That Goddamn Major Gator attacked my boat.”
“Holy shit. You’re lucky to be alive.”
Amos gives me a dismissive wave. “Oh, some overgrown lizard don’t scare me none. The son of a bitch did a number on my boat. This has become personal. Mercy can’t get down here soon enough.”
“Yeah. I could use her tracking skills myself.” I reply.
“Enough about me. What brings you by?”
“New man is in town. Goes by the name of Vincent. Have you seen him?”
“Nah. Heard of this feller however. Ain’t seen anything strange in the swamp for a couple weeks or so.” Amos explains.
“You heard of him out here?” I ask.
“Went into town a couple days ago. Seems everybody was abuzz about him.”
I wipe the sweat off my face. “Yeah. That’s part of the reason I want to talk to him.”
“Why? He been acting funny around the kids?”
“What? No. Nothing like that. He just been telling them some fibs. That’s all.”
“Oh ok. Sorry. No. I haven’t seen him around here.”
“Thanks, Amos. Oh, by the way. Pops wants to do a catfish fry. He may be hittin you up soon.” I say.
“Yeah. Talked to him yesterday. He’ll have his catfish by the weekend.”
“Ok. I’ll leave it to you then.” I say.
“See you later.” Amos goes back to work on his airboat. As I leave I hear him mumble. “You Motherfucker……”
I walk back into town. I head directly to Pops. I enter the air conditioning and damn near pass out. I sit down and sigh. Marcus walks out of the kitchen in the back. “Hey, Julian. What do you need?”
“Ice water and lots of it.”
Marcus hands over a glass filled to the brim. I take a sip and say. “Perfect.”
“Anything else?”
“Where’s Pops?” I ask.
“In the back. Want me to go get him?”
“Nah. I’ll go back there.”
I take the glass and drink as i enter the kitchen. “Old man. You in here?” I call out.
“Right here. What the hell do you want?” Pops says as he walks out of the walk in freezer.
“Need to talk. Need so,e words of wisdom. Don’t know anyone wise so you’ll have to do.”
“Well. Talk. Chop up those sausages as you do. You know how I want it done.”
I grab a knife and some sausages. I start cutting eighth inch pieces like I was taught.
“What’s bothering you?” Pops asks.
“This new guy, Vincent.”
Pops hurumphs. “Marcus has told me about him.”
“He is lying to the children and it’s bothering me.”
“I’m sure he casting you in a poor light is not helping.” Pops adds.
“It is not. I’m trying to leave my ego out of it.”
Pops stops cleaning the crawfish. “You need to be kind but firm with him when you talk to him about this.”
“I thought I was.” I say.
“Heard he told falsehoods about the Loa as well. They may deal with him themselves.”
I finish cutting the sausage. “I doubt I’ll be so lucky.”

A few days ago on Goro I made an infantry squad with just a typical 6x6 truck. Only a quarter of our armored assets were even crewed with seconds to go, so I let my guys take a BMP2. Our opposition were militia forces. I wanted to share my results and maybe get some feedback, see what other people think. I will keep it short. ish.
First point logi and I went south with squad in tow. BMP2 initially did not support us, but our platoon on north side of attack. He was able to secure north flank on first point (Fruit Farm) early while our infantry pushed from west.
At second point, I loaded all troops into the BMP. We advanced to a point about 350 meters northwest of the point (Shipping Yard), set a rally, and pressed forward. We were early and able to push hard quickly, and not allow the enemy to reinforce in place. This gave us a lot of anti-infantry and also anti-vehicle firepower that an infantry squad does not normally have, and allowed the infantry to be sustained off his supply. The squad was heavily damaged by the end of capping Shipping Yard, but we were able to bounce back quickly with a BTR, which was left uncrewed at main.
We were defeated with the rest of the platoon en route to third point River Fort when a mine disabled our vehicle and crippled our momentum. Our platoon failed to take River Fort by siege.
Conclusion:
I feel as though this setup has a lot of firepower, and between riflemen and the vehicles supply, the squad can sustain medical, ammunition, rockets and grenades for quite a time, and we used this to good effect in game for the first two points. Rallies are insufficient for sustained spawning but being so mobile, having one a safe distance is easier to do.

SpaceX Starship page

FAQ

1. When (first) orbital flight? First integrated flight test occurred April 20, 2023. "The vehicle cleared the pad and beach as Starship climbed to an apogee of ~39 km over the Gulf of Mexico – the highest of any Starship to-date. The vehicle experienced multiple engines out during the flight test, lost altitude, and began to tumble. The flight termination system was commanded on both the booster and ship."
2. Where can I find streams of the launch? SpaceX Full Livestream. NASASpaceFlight Channel. Lab Padre Channel. Everyday Astronaut Channel.
3. What's happening next? SpaceX has assessed damage to Stage 0 and is implementing fixes and changes including a water deluge/pad protection/"shower head" system. No major repairs to key structures appear to be necessary.
4. When is the next flight test? Just after flight, Elon stated they "Learned a lot for next test launch in a few months." On April 29, he reiterated this estimate in a Twitter Spaces Q&A (summarized here), saying "I'm glad to report that the pad damage is actually quite small," should "be repaired quickly," and "From a pad standpoint, we are probably ready to launch in 6 to 8 weeks." Requalifying the flight termination system (FTS) and the FAA post-incident review will likely require the longest time to complete. Musk reiterated the timeline on May 26, stating "Major launchpad upgrades should be complete in about a month, then another month of rocket testing on pad, then flight 2 of Starship."
5. Why no flame diverteflame trench below the OLM? Musk tweeted on April 21: "3 months ago, we started building a massive water-cooled, steel plate to go under the launch mount. Wasn’t ready in time & we wrongly thought, based on static fire data, that Fondag would make it through 1 launch." Regarding a trench, note that the Starship on the OLM sits 2.5x higher off the ground than the Saturn V sat above the base of its flame trench, and the OLM has 6 exits vs. 2 on the Saturn V trench.

​

Quick Links

^{RAPTOR ROOST LAB CAM SAPPHIRE CAM SENTINEL CAM ROVER CAM ROVER 2.0 CAM PLEX CAM NSF STARBASE}
Starship Dev 45 Starship Dev 44 Starship Dev 43 Starship Thread List
Official Starship Update SpaceX Update Thread

Status

Road Closures

Road & Beach Closure

Type	Start (UTC)	End (UTC)	Status
Primary	2023-06-12 14:00:00	2023-06-13 02:00:00	Revoked. HWY 4 and Boca Chica Open
Alternative	2023-06-13 14:00:00	2023-06-14 02:00:00	Revoked. HWY 4 and Boca Chica Open
Alternative	2023-06-14 14:00:00	2023-06-15 02:00:00	Possible

No transportation delays currently scheduled
Up to date as of 2023-06-10

Vehicle Status

As of June 9th 2023
Follow Ring Watchers on Twitter and Discord for more.

Ship	Location	Status	Comment
Pre-S24		Scrapped or Retired	SN15 and S20 are in the Rocket Garden, the rest are scrapped.
S24	In pieces in the ocean	Destroyed	April 20th: Destroyed when booster MECO and ship stage separation from booster failed three minutes and 59 seconds after successful launch, so FTS was activated. This was the second launch attempt.
S25	Launch Site	Testing	On Feb 23rd moved back to build site, then on the 25th taken to the Massey's test site. March 21st: Cryo test. May 5th: Another cryo test. May 18th: Moved to the Launch Site and in the afternoon lifted onto Suborbital Test Stand B.
S26	Rocket Garden	Resting	No fins or heat shield, plus other changes. March 25th: Lifted onto the new higher stand in Rocket Garden. March 28th: First RVac installed (number 205). March 29th: RVac number 212 taken over to S26 and later in the day the third RVac (number 202) was taken over to S26 for installation. March 31st: First Raptor Center installed (note that S26 is the first Ship with electric Thrust Vector Control). April 1st: Two more Raptor Centers moved over to S26.
S27	Rocket Garden	Completed but no Raptors yet	Like S26, no fins or heat shield. April 24th: Moved to the Rocket Garden.
S28	High Bay 1	Under construction	February 7th Assorted parts spotted. March 24th: Mid LOX barrel taken into High Bay 1. March 28th: Existing stack placed onto Mid LOX barrel. March 31st: Almost completed stack lifted off turntable. April 5th: Aft/Thrust section taken into High Bay 1. April 6th: the already stacked main body of the ship has been placed onto the thrust section, giving a fully stacked ship. April 25th: Lifted off the welding turntable, then the 'squid' detached - it was then connected up to a new type of lifting attachment which connects to the two lifting points below the forward flaps that are used by the chopsticks. May 25th: Installation of the first Aft Flap (interesting note: the Aft Flaps for S28 are from the scrapped S22).
S29	High Bay 1	Under construction	April 28th: Nosecone and Payload Bay taken inside High Bay 1 (interesting note: the Forward Flaps are from the scrapped S22). May 1st: nosecone stacked onto payload bay (note that S29 is being stacked on the new welding turntable to the left of center inside High Bay 1, this means that LabPadre's Sentinel Cam can't see it and so NSF's cam looking at the build site is the only one with a view when it's on the turntable). May 4th: Sleeved Forward Dome moved into High Bay 1 and placed on the welding turntable. May 5th: Nosecone+Payload Bay stack placed onto Sleeved Forward Dome and welded. May 10th: Nosecone stack hooked up to new lifting rig instead of the 'Squid' (the new rig attaches to the Chopstick's lifting points and the leeward Squid hooks). May 11th: Sleeved Common Dome moved into High Bay 1. May 16th: Nosecone stack placed onto Sleeved Common Dome and welded. May 18th: Mid LOX section moved inside High Bay 1. May 19th: Current stack placed onto Mid LOX section for welding. June 2nd: Aft/Thrust section moved into High Bay 1. June 6th: The already stacked main body of the ship has been placed onto the thrust section, giving a fully stacked ship.
S30+	Build Site	Parts under construction	Assorted parts spotted through S34.

 

Booster	Location	Status	Comment
Pre-B7 & B8		Scrapped or Retired	B4 is in the Rocket Garden, the rest are scrapped.
B7	In pieces in the ocean	Destroyed	April 20th: Destroyed when MECO and stage separation of ship from booster failed three minutes and 59 seconds after successful launch, so FTS was activated. This was the second launch attempt.
B9	High Bay 2	Raptor Install	Cryo testing (methane and oxygen) on Dec. 21 and Dec. 29. Rollback on Jan. 10. On March 7th Raptors started to be taken into High Bay 2 for B9.
B10	Rocket Garden	Resting	20-ring LOX tank inside High Bay 2 and Methane tank (with grid fins installed) in the ring yard. March 18th: Methane tank moved from the ring yard and into High Bay 2 for final stacking onto the LOX tank. March 22nd: Methane tank stacked onto LOX tank, resulting in a fully stacked booster. May 27th: Moved to the Rocket Garden. Note: even though it appears to be complete it currently has no Raptors.
B11	High Bay 2	Under construction	March 24th: 'A3' barrel had the current 8-ring LOX tank stacked onto it. March 30th: 'A4' 4-ring LOX tank barrel taken inside High Bay 2 and stacked. April 2nd: 'A5' 4-ring barrel taken inside High Bay 2. April 4th: First methane tank 3-ring barrel parked outside High Bay 2 - this is probably F2. April 7th: downcomer installed in LOX tank (which is almost fully stacked except for the thrust section). April 28th: Aft section finally taken inside High Bay 2 to have the rest of the LOX tank welded to it (which will complete the LOX tank stack). May 11th: Methane tank Forward section and the next barrel down taken into High Bay 2 and stacked. May 18th: Methane tank stacked onto another 3 ring next barrel, making it 9 rings tall out of 13. May 20th: Methane tank section stacked onto the final barrel, meaning that the Methane tank is now fully stacked. May 23rd: Started to install the grid fins. June 3rd: Methane Tank stacked onto LOX Tank, meaning that B11 is now fully stacked. Once welded still more work to be done such as the remaining plumbing and wiring.
B12	High Bay 2 (LOX Tank)	Under construction	June 3rd: LOX tank commences construction: Common Dome (CX:4) and a 4-ring barrel (A2:4) taken inside High Bay 2 where CX:4 was stacked onto A2:4 on the right side welding turntable. June 7th: A 4-ring barrel (A3:4) was taken inside High Bay 2. June 8th: Barrel section A3:4 was lifted onto the welding turntable and the existing stack placed on it for welding. June 9th: The next 4-ring barrel (A4:4) was taken inside High Bay 2, later in the day the incomplete LOX tank stack was hooked up to it and placed on the welding turntable for stacking and welding.
B13+	Build Site	Parts under construction	Assorted parts spotted through B17.

​
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Resources

• LabPadre Channel NASASpaceFlight.com Channel
• NSF: Booster 7 + Ship X (likely 24) Updates Thread Most Recent
• NSF: Boca Chica Production Updates Thread Most recent
• NSF: Elon Starship tweet compilation Most Recent
• SpaceX: Website Starship page Starship Users Guide (2020, PDF)
• FAA: SpaceX Starship Project at the Boca Chica Launch Site
• FAA: Temporary Flight Restrictions NOTAM list
• FCC: Starship Orbital Demo detailed Exhibit - 0748-EX-ST-2021 application June 20 through December 20
• NASA: Starship Reentry Observation (Technical Report)
• Hwy 4 & Boca Chica Beach Closures (May not be available outside US)
• Production Progress Infographics by @RingWatchers
• Raptor 2 Tracker by @SpaceRhin0
• Acronym definitions by Decronym
• Everyday Astronaut: Starbase Tour with Elon Musk, Part 1 Part 2 Part 3
• Everyday Astronaut: 2022 Elon Musk Interviews, Starbase/Ship Updates Launch Tower Merlin Engine Raptor Engine

SpaceX Discuss Thread for discussion of subjects other than Starship development.

Rules

We will attempt to keep this self-post current with links and major updates, but for the most part, we expect the community to supply the information. This is a great place to discuss Starship development, ask Starship-specific questions, and track the progress of the production and test campaigns. Starship Development Threads are not party threads. Normal subreddit rules still apply.

I don't see anyone make posts like this, but the mods told me it would be allowed, so I figured I'd make a post. I've just finished my second regular season in MyLeague and am gearing up for the playoffs, so I thought I'd post the playoff picture as well as my predictions for who's going to win it.
16 teams now remain following the conclusion of the play-in tournament. Here are the playoff contenders from the East.
Eastern Conference
Atlanta Hawks (56-26) The Hawks finished the 2022-23 season as the Eastern Conference's third seed. After defeating the sixth seeded Brooklyn Nets in five games in the first round, they fell to the second seeded Cleveland Cavaliers in six games in the second round.
The 2023-24 season was the Hawks' third full season under head coach Nate McMillan. The Hawks made a splash during the offseason when they traded for aging 39 year old superstar LeBron James from the Lakers. James wanted to win another championship before retiring and made it clear he did not think LA was the place do it. The Hawks shipped off John Collins and Bogdan Bogdanovic to acquire James. With the addition of James, the Hawks now possessed a superteam of James, Trae Young, and Dejounte Murray. Young led the team in scoring with Murray in second and James in third. The Hawks were one of two teams to have three players named to the All-Star game, with James, Young, and Murray all receiving the honor. Young was also named to the All-NBA first team for the second year in a row, while Murray made the third team. The Hawks suffered a blow when Murray broke his leg in the final month of the regular season, leaving them without his services for the playoffs. However, the pair of Young and James is still formidable. Will anybody be able to stop the Hawks superteam?
The Hawks lineup for the playoffs: Trae Young (PG), Jarrett Culver (SG), LeBron James (SF), Onyeka Okungwu (SF), Clint Capela (C), DeAndre Hunter (6th Man)
-2. Indiana Pacers (56-26)
The Pacers did not make the playoffs in the 2022-23 season.
The Pacers were a new look team in 2023-2024. The 2023-24 season was the team's third under head coach Rick Carlisle. They were able to keep their star player, Tyrese Haliburton, who came into All-Star form. The Pacers possessed two top ten picks, and traded one of them to the Phoenix Suns to obtain the services of their disgruntled star Center Deandre Ayton. The Pacers hit homeruns when they selected Antonio Wesley out of Kentucky with the fourth overall pick, and traded a later first round pick to the Sacramento Kings for the rights to their rookie selection, Paul Westbrook of Butler. Both Wesley and Westbrook became immediate contributors, and Wesley was named Rookie of the Year. With the Pacers being the only completely healthy team in the East, along with Haliburton, Ayton, and two fantastic rookies, they will be a formidable opponent for anyone to face.
The Pacers starting lineup for the playoffs: Tyrese Haliburton (PG), Paul Westbrook (SG, Rookie), Chris Duarte (SF), Antonio Wesley (PF, Rookie), DeAndre Ayton (C), Myles Turner (6th Man)
-3. Cleveland Cavaliers (56-26)
The Cavaliers finished the 2022-23 season as the second seed in the Eastern Conference. They defeated the seventh seeded Toronto Raptors in five games in the first round, the third seeded Atlanta Hawks in six games in the second round, before falling to the top seeded Chicago Bulls in five games in the Conference Final.
The 2023-24 season was the Cavaliers fourth under head coach J.B. Bickerstaff. They returned four of their five starters from the previous year: Donovan Mitchell, Darius Garland, Evan Mobley, and Jarrett Allen. The Cavaliers were thus early favorites to repeat their success from the previous year. The season saw both Mitchell and Garland named to the 2024 All-Star team. They spent the season in a close race with the Hawks and Pacers, but ended up in third place in the east after losing C Jarrett Allen for the season with an injury. While Mitchell, Garland, and Mobley are still a formidable trio, can the Cavaliers overcome the Hawks and Pacers without Allen?
The Cavaliers starting lineup for the playoffs: Darius Garland (PG), Donovan Mitchell (SG), TJ Warren (SF), Evan Mobley (PF), Tony Bradley (C), Isaac Okoro (6th Man)
-4. Philadelphia 76ers (50-32)
The 76ers finished the 22-23 season as the Eastern Conference's 4th seed, but were eliminated by the 5th seeded Milwaukee Bucks in five games in the first round.
After a disappointing finish to the 22-23 season, the Sixers fired head coach Doc Rivers, making the 2023-24 season their first under new head coach Monty Williams. The Sixers had a big hole to fill after losing James Harden in free agency, but the fantastic performance of Joel Embiid and the additions of Keldon Johnson (acquired in a trade for Tobias Harris) and Kelly Oubre Jr. helped them to not miss a beat. The Sixers finished the season in the same spot they had the previous season: fourth place in the east. However, they are not fully healthy, as Embiid is expected to play through a broken nose. Can Embiid help the Sixers overcome seemingly superior teams like the Hawks, Pacers, and Cavaliers?
The Sixers starting lineup for the playoffs: Kendrick Nunn (PG), Tyrese Maxey (SG), Kelly Oubre Jr. (SF), Keldon Johnson (PF), JOel Embiid (C), Charles Bassey (6th Man)
-5. Detroit Pistons (45-37)
The Pistons did not make the playoffs in the 2022-23 season.
The 2023-24 season was the Pistons first under new head coach Trent Pederson. Cade Cunningham led the team in scoring, while Jaden Ivey's 18 PPG off the bench led him to be named 6th Man of the Year. The Pistons surprised analysts who expected them to miss the playoffs again and finished fifth in the east. Can this young up and coming team knock off more established contenders in the playoffs?
The Pistons starting lineup for the playoffs: Monte Morris (PG), Cade Cunningham (SG), Saddiq Bey (SF), Jonathan Isaac (PF), Isaiah Stewart (C), Jaden Ivey (6th Man)
-6. Washington Wizards
The Wizards did not make the playoffs in the 2022-23 season.
The 2023-24 season was the Wizards first under new head coach Sam Cassell. The Wizards' biggest addition was luring Fred VanVleet away from the Raptors in free agency. Behind the performances of Bradley Beal and VanVleet, the Wizards surprised analysts who predicted they would miss the playoffs again and finished sixth in the east. They are not seen as true contenders, but can they surprise the doubters?
The Wizards starting lineup for the playoffs: Fred VanVleet (PG), Bradley Beal (SG), Deni Avdija (SF), Marvin Bagley III (PF), Daniel Gafford (C), Johnny Davis (6th Man, Rookie)
-7. Tampa Bay Bandits (37-45)
The 2022-23 season was the Bandits final season in Orlando playing under the name Magic, as after the season they relocated to Tampa Bay and rebranded themselves as the Bandits. They did not make the playoffs their final season in Orlando.
The 2023-24 season was the Bandits' first under new head coach Otis Newman. The free agent additions of Kevin Love and Jordan Poole helped supplement the existing talents of Markelle Fultz, Paolo Banchero, and Franz Wagner, and the Bandits finished eighth place in the east. After defeating the Raptors in the play-in game, they secured the seventh seed. Can the Bandits surprised the doubters and knock off a contender like the Pacers?
The Bandits starting lineup for the playoffs: Markelle Fultz (PG), Jordan Poole (SG), Franz Wagner (SF), Paolo Banchero (PF), Kevin Love (C), Cole Anthony (6th Man)
-8. Toronto Raptors (43-39)
In the 2022-23 season, the Raptors made the playoffs as the seventh seed, but were eliminated by the second seeded Cavaliers in five games in the first round.
The Raptors had a completely new look in the 2023-24 season. They fired Nick Nurse and promoted assistant Adrian Griffin to head coach. They traded Pascal Siakam to the Nets in exchange for Ben Simmons and the 3rd overall pick, lost Fred VanVleet to the Wizards in free agency, and acquired Terry Rozier III from the Hornets in a trade. The Raptors finished the season in 7th place in the East, but were defeated by the Bandits in the play-in game. However, they secured the 8th seed by defeating the Brooklyn Nets in the second play-in game. They face a formidable first round opponent in the top-seeded Hawks. Can they overcome?
The Raptors starting lineup for the playoffs: Ben Simmons (PG), Terry Rozier III (SG), OG Anunoby (SF), Scottie Barnes (PF), Precious Achiuwa (C), O.J. Blake (6th Man, Rookie)
Western Conference
New Orleans Pelicans (63-19) The Pelicans finished second in the western conference in 2022-23. They defeated the seventh seeded Timberwolves in five games in the first round, survived against the sixth seeded Clippers in seven games in the second round, and swept the top seeded Dallas Mavericks in the Conference Finals. They fell to the Eastern Conference champion Chicago Bulls in five games in the NBA Finals.
In their third season under head coach Willie Green, the Pelicans sought to defend their Western Conference Title and finally win their first NBA title. For leading the Pelicans to the best record in the NBA, Willie Green was named Coach of the Year. The Pelicans initially returned all five of their starters from their finals run the previous year. They spent most of the year atop the Western Conference standings. Ahead of the trade deadline, however, the Pelicans made a huge addition that was a familiar face: none other than Anthony Davis, the player they had formerly selected with the first overall pick. The Lakers were not doing well without James and the disgruntled Davis made it known that he would not be resigning with them when his contract was up. Left with no other choice, the Lakers traded Davis to a contender ahead of the trade deadline rather than lose him for nothing in free agency. The Pelicans sent CJ McCollum, Jonas Valanciunas, and a 2024 first round pick to the Lakers in exchange for Davis and Spencer Dinwiddie. With the addition of Davis, the Pelicans now had three players named to the 2024 All-Star team, with Davis receiving the honor along with Zion Williamson and Brandon Ingram. Ingram tore his ACL in the final month of the season, leaving the Pelicans without his services for their playoff run. However, their replacement for Ingram, Dyson Daniels, won the most improved player award in 2024. The Pelicans enter the playoffs as heavy favorites to repeat as Western Conference Champions. Can they satisfy these expectations and avenge their Finals loss from last year?
Pelicans starting lineup for the playoffs: Spencer Dinwiddie (PG), Dyson Daniels (SG), Herbert Jones (SF), Zion Williamson (PF), Anthony Davis (C), Skip Milton (6th Man)
-2. Houston Rockets (61-21)
The Rockets did not make the playoffs in the 2022-23 season.
The 2023-24 season was the Rockets fourth under head coach Stephen Silas. The Rockets made massive improvements to their roster and pulled off one of the biggest turnarounds in the league. They signed a familiar face, superstar James Harden, in free agency. In a draft day trade, the Rockets acquired Jaren Jackson Jr. from the Grizzlies for a first round pick. The Rockets also acquired the first overall pick through the draft lottery, and used it to select PG Gilbert Gilmore from Michigan State. 2023 Rookie of the Year Jabari Smith Jr. was named to his first All-Star game in only his second year in the league, and 2021 first round pick Jalen Green also had a fantastic year. Behind the stellar play of Harden, Jackson, Smith, and Green, the Rockets finished with the second best record in the NBA. Unfortunately, Jabari Smith tore his MCL in the last month of the regular season and will miss the playoffs. Even without Smith, the Rockets will be a formidable opponent for the Pelicans to get past.
The Rockets starting lineup for the playoffs: James Harden (PG), Jalen Green (SG), John Konchar (SF), Jaren Jackson Jr. (PF), Usman Garuba (C), Alperen Sengun (6th man)
-3. Denver Nuggets (51-31)
The Nuggets finished fifth in the west in the 2022-23 season. They defeated the Lakers in seven games in the first round before falling to the top seeded Mavericks in five games in the second round.
The 2023-24 season was the Nuggets ninth under head coach Michael Malone. The Nuggets returned most of their key players from the 2022-23 season and behind a fantastic season from Nikola Jokic. Jokic received MVP honors for the third time in four years. They managed to improve from fifth in the west to third.
The Nuggets starting lineup for the playoffs:
Jamal Murray (PG), Patrick Beverly (SG), Michael Porter Jr. (SF), Aaron Gordon (PF), Nikola Jokic (C), Nah'Shon Hyland (6th Man)
-4. Golden State Warriors (48-34)
The Warriors did not make the playoffs in the 2022-23 season.
After losing in the play-in tournament the previous year, the Warriors bounced back and finished fourth in the west this year. Still led by Steve Kerr and Stephen Curry, the Warriors were able to resign Draymond Green and Andrew Wiggins, although they lost Jordan Poole to the Bandits. Can the Warriors beat the odds to win a fifth title in the Stephen Curry era?
The Warriors starting lineup for the playoffs: Stephen Curry (PG), Klay Thompson (SG), Andrew Wiggins (SF), Jonathan Kuminga (PF), James Wiseman (C), Draymond Green (6th Man)
-5. Dallas Mavericks (47-35)
The Mavericks finished the 2022-23 season as the top seed in the west. They defeated the 8th seeded Kings in six games in the first round and the fifth seeded Nuggets in five games in the second round before being swept by the second seeded Pelicans in the Western Conference Finals.
The 2023-24 season was the Mavericks third under head coach Jason Kidd. They were able to lock up Kyrie Irving, who they traded for at the trade deadline in 2023, long term in free agency. However, with so much of their salary tied up in Irving and Luka Doncic, they have very little money for the rest of their roster. Still, Kyrie and Luka are a formidable pair. Can these two lead the Mavericks to a championship, or will the decision to tie up so much money in just two players come back to haunt them?
The Mavericks starting lineup for the playoffs: Kyrie Irving (PG), Luka Doncic (SG), Naji Marshall (SF), Wendell Carter Jr. (PF), Drew Eubanks (C), Darius Bazley (6th Man)
-6. Memphis Grizzlies
The Grizzlies finished the 2022-23 season as the third seed in the west. They were upset in the first round, losing to the 6th seeded Clippers in 7 games.
The 2023-24 season was the Grizzlies first under new head coach Cecil North. They looked very different, having traded Jaren Jackson Jr. to the Rockets and having lost Dillon Brooks in free agency. Still, with Ja Morant and Desmond Bane playing like All-Stars, they were contenders in the west once again. They acquired Demar Derozan in a trade from the struggling Chicago Bulls ahead of the 2024 trade deadline to try to put themselves over the top, but they continued to play like a middle of the pack team. They ended up finishing sixth. Can Morant help the Grizzlies overcome their shortcomings and lead them to a championship?
The Grizzlies starting lineup for the playoffs: Ja Morant (PG), Desmond Bane (SG), DeMar DeRozan (SF), Jae'Sean Tate (PF), Kristaps Porzingis (C), Travis Vincent (6th Man, Rookie)
-7. Minnesota Timberwolves
The Timberwolves finished the 2022-23 season as the seventh seed in the west. They fell to the New Orleans Pelicans in five games in the first round.
The 2023-24 season was the Timberwolves first under head coach Nick Nurse. They traded star center Karl Anthony Towns to the Celtics, receiving Jaylen Brown and Robert Williams. They were able to retain their other two stars, Anthony Edwards and Rudy Gobert. The brightest point of their season was Edwards being named to his first career All-Star game. After finish seventh in the west again, they defeated the Sacramento Kings in their play in game to earn the seventh seed, the same spot they were in last year. Will the Timberwolves first series go the same way it did last year?
The Timberwolves starting lineup for the playoffs: D'Angelo Russell (PG), Jaylen Brown (SG), Anthony Edwards (SF), Kyle Anderson (PF), Rudy Gobert (C), Robert Williams III (6th Man)
-8. Los Angeles Clippers (38-44)
In the 2022-23 season the Clippers were the sixth seed in the west. In the first round, they upset the third seeded Grizzlies in seven games. In the second round, they gave the second seeded Pelicans a scare, but ultimately fell to them in seven games.
The 2023-24 season was their fourth under head coach Tyronn Lue. They retained both Kawhi Leonard and Paul George. Despite only finishing ninth place in the west, the Clippers earned a spot in the playoffs after defeating the tenth place Spurs and the eighth place Kings in the play-in games. Can the Clippers pull off a seemingly impossible upset?
The Clippers starting lineup for the playoffs: John Wall (PG), Norman Powell (SG) Paul George (SF), Kawhi Leonard (PF), Ivica Zubac (C), Genwei Wang (6th Man, Rookie)
Eastern Conference Quarterfinals Predictions
Atlanta Hawks 4, Toronto Raptors 1- The Raptors lack the talent to compete with Trae Young and Lebron James. If Dejounte Murray were healthy I'd have this as a sweep, but in any case the Hawks should handle this series pretty easily. Hawks in five.
Philadelphia 76ers 4, Detroit Pistons 2- The Pistons are a young, up and coming team that isn't ready to compete just yet. They will give the Sixers a run for their money, but ultimately the 76ers experience will prevail. Sixers in six.
Cleveland Cavaliers 4, Washington Wizards 1- The Wizards have some talent, but not nearly as much of it as the Cavaliers. Even without Jarrett Allen, still having Donovan Mitchell, Darius Garland, and Evan Mobley is more than enough star power to handle the Wizards. Cavs in 5.
Indiana Pacers 4, Tampa Bay Bandits 1- The Pacers are fully healthy, and the Bandits just shouldn't be able to compete with them when they are. The Bandits are talented but also young and inexperienced. Pacers in five.
Western Conference Quarterfinals Predictions
New Orleans Pelicans 4, Los Angeles Clippers 0- The Pelicans are the best team in the league, and the Clippers have too many holes to compete with them. Pelicans sweep.
Dallas Mavericks 4, Golden State Warriors 3- I expect this to be a closely contested series, but in the end I think that Stephen Curry is a bit past his prime and I don't think he'll be able to overcome the combo of Luka and Kyrie. Mavs in 7.
Denver Nuggets 4, Memphis Grizzlies 2- With Jokic playing at an MVP level, I don't think the Grizzlies have the talent to beat the Nuggets even if Ja Morant is lights out. Nuggets in 6.
Houston Rockets 4, Minnesota Timberwolves 1- The Rockets are a way better team than the Timberwolves. Anthony Edwards can't carry this team on his own past a team as good as the Rockets. Rockets in five.
Easter Conference Semifinals Predictions
Atlanta Hawks 4, Philadelphia 76ers 1- Embiid can only do so much on his own. The Sixers lack the talent outside of Embiid to beat a superteam like the Hawks. Hawks in five.
Indiana Pacers 4, Cleveland Cavaliers 2- These are two very good teams, but I think the fact that the Pacers are fully healthy and the Cavaliers aren't will tip the scales. Pacers in six.
Western Conference Semifinals Predictions
New Orleans Pelicans 4, Dallas Mavericks 1
The fact that the Mavericks have no talent outside of Luka and Kyrie will catch up with them. The Pelicans are a more complete team. Pelicans in five.
Houston Rockets 4, Denver Nuggets 2
This is another series I expect to be close. The Rockets are the better team overall, but Jokic and Murray are a formidable pair. Still, even without Jabari Smith, the Rockets are the more complete team. Houston in six.
Eastern Conference Finals Prediction
Indiana Pacers 4, Atlanta Hawks 3
This is going to be a close series between two great teams, and it's one I'm looking forward to playing. If Dejounte Murray were fully healthy I might have it going the other way. But I think in the end the fully healthy Pacers will prevail over the injury riddled Hawks. Pacers in 7.
Western Conference Finals Prediction
New Orleans Pelicans 4, Houston Rockets 2
Even without Brandon Ingram, the Pelicans are the more complete team. Losing Jabari Smith Jr. hurts the Rockets too much. Give me the Pelicans in six.
NBA Finals Prediction
New Orleans Pelicans 4, Indiana Pacers 2
This is where the Pacers youth and inexperience finally catch up to them. With two of their best players being rookies, they won't be able to keep up with a formidable opponent like the Pelicans. Give me Pelicans in six. The Pelicans, who lost in the finals last year, finally win their first NBA title.
Finals MVP Prediction: Zion Williamson, PF, New Orleans
I'm really excited to play all these playoff games. I will post again once the playoffs are completed to let you guys know the actual results.

While many people in this sub have pointed out his pre and post ankle injury stats I think it’s also important to note the load that Jimmy has to score, facilitate and defend is taking a toll on his endurance.
For as fit as Jimmy butler is, he is almost 34 years old. It’s not rocket science that it takes longer to recover game in game out as you age.
I observed Jimmy during game 3 where he’s not engaged in trying to secure rebounds or get back on transition defense because he’s exhausted which is expected
He has not used to playing this many games in this short of a span since his Chicago days. Post all star break Jimmy has hardly missed any games. He’s tired.

Hi all,
I need advice. During the first year of the pandemic, the house behind mine was sold to a couple with a grade-school aged son. They moved into the house in December. In March, they bought a trampoline. In the summer, they put in a huge above-ground pool. They had two huge dogs. In spite of this, I was not overly annoyed.
Fast forward three years. They now have five dogs. Their daughter and granddaughter have moved in with them. They have added a fire-pit which backs up to my fence. The wife and daughter sit in the backyard and vape all day. It grosses me out.
I have a dog who is territorial and barks when she sees their dogs. I don't care what time of the day it is...when I let my dog into my backyard, they or their dogs are already out there.
They shoot off fireworks and bottle rockets for about six weeks around the 4th of July. The debris ends up in my yard.
I want to put up fake ivy on my chain link fence so I don't have to look at all of this stuff. I just want peace.
My husband says that would be the equivalent of saying EFF YOU.
Would it really be that bad? If so, what do you suggest? Do I really just have to put up with all of this?

It's week 1, therefore we shall have power rankings and then some fights in the comments. Nah who am kidding this is CFL not some other one where we all fight. Enjoy!

1. Winnipeg Blue Bombers (0-0) Pre: N/A Next: VS HAM

The Bombers where one bad Buck Pierce call away from a three peat. Or one Zach Collaros throw away. Or one missed extra point away. Or Casey Sayles blocking the right guy. None of that matters. This team is hungry and have all the tools at most positions. I mean Richie Hall and Buck Pierce are here but at least we booted Leggio.

1. Calgary Stampeders (0-0) Pre: N/A Next: VS BC

It's rematch time vs a team who won't be as good as they were when they kicked your ass last year. Also let's pretend Maier is a new quarterback here. Anyway this team is built well. Really well. They somehow always have answers for talent. This team has the best shot at actually taking the Bombers on for best record this year.

1. Hamilton Tiger-Cats (0-0) Pre: N/A Next: @ WPG

Change was need and boy oh boy Hamilton got it. Now I will point out the receiver issue. Uh Tim White can't catch everything, right? I guess Williams??? But there's a running back finally in Hamilton with James Butler who is premier back in the CFL when used right. BC didn't always use him right. Also Bo Levi Mitchell is here. He'll help. Defense is also looking really good. Watch out for them, they could sneak up on you.

1. Toronto Argonauts (0-0) Pre: N/A Next: Bye

I couldn't put this team any higher with Chad Kelly. If he shows he can lead his team to a win or they put a few together I'll be hooked because this team as a whole is second best in the league. Two hard running backs, decents receiver, good offensive line, punishing defensive line and top tier secondary. So maybe this team will play cup defense well or wash up.

1. BC Lions (0-0) Pre: N/A Next: @ CGY

BC is very interesting case this year. They hold a receiver core rivaling the Bombers. However this issue does not lie on the defense. The defense is fortified group that can shut anyone down. It's in Vernon Adams Jr. A boom or bust type of player who will either go lights out or suck. No middle ground. Is Dane Evans different? Well just look at last year.

1. Ottawa Redblacks (0-0) Pre: N/A Next: @ MTL

Now maybe this is the year the Redblacks get out of the basement. On paper they have it all. Then Masoli's injuries come back to haunt them. Thus Nick Arbuckle. Which one? No one knows. Also don't expect Mauldin to get 20 sacks. 10+ is the goal, no way he matches last year. This team should make the playoffs. If not? I have no idea.

1. Edmonton Elks (0-0) Pre: N/A Next: VS SAS

Lot's of change but it looks like it should be for the better. This team can have the best offense. So if this is the case why so low. Well Cornelius has to prove he can win and the defense. Endless rushing yards against. AC Leonard may help but who can you really call difference makers here? Ceresna and Leonard. Maybe Gainey?

1. Saskatchewan Roughriders (0-0) Pre: N/A Next: @ EDM

Ok I'm gonna say one thing. The only reason this team is 8 is because they can have one of the top 2 defenses. They still have the talent to be good but with the losses they too can fold. The offense isn't good either. No Schaffer-Baker for a while therefore Wieneke will be WR1. Not too good for quarterback who is inconsistent and has the worst offensive line.

1. Montreal Alouettes (0-0) Pre: N/A Next: VS OTT

Yeah this team is no good. Much of the talent that helped them over the years is gone. Fajardo is at QB therefore this team won't do very well. The only thing going for the offense is Stanback, who missed a ton of time last year. The defense was already meh, before they lost more talent. So through this knowledge the most meh team got worse, therefore bad team.

Let me start by saying I love the Prank-Kids play style so I want to make a decent deck with them. Here is a list of everything I have thought up and reasons for including them. I want to make the deck 40 cards with a few hand traps (I can make it highly consistent at 40 with 0 hand traps)
Main Deck:

• 3x Prank-Kids Fansies - Prank-Kids name
• 3x Prank-Kids Dropsies - Prank-Kids name and Toadally Awesome material
• 3x Prank-Kids Lampsies - Prank-Kids name
• 3x Prank-Kids Rocksies - Prank-Kids Name
• 3x Prank-Kids Place - search a Prank-Kids to have at least 2 in hand and chain blocking
• 1x Prank-Kids Pandemonium - searchable fusion spell for Battle Butler on your turn or opponents
• 3x Polymerization (9 total) - Fusion spell
• 3x Lunalight Black Sheep - searched poly
• 3x Tenki - Searches Black Sheep
• 1x Terraforming - gets place for a search
• 3x Piri Reis Map - searches Fansies (must normal summon to use effect)
• 3x Foolish Burial Goods - send Rainbow Bridge of Salvation to search Place
• 1x Rainbow Bridge of Salvation - search Place
• 1x Crystal Beast Emerald Turtle - used for Salvation and is Aqua for Toad
• 1x Frog Monster - for Toad
• Adventure Engine (3 Enchantress, 3 Rite, 1 Gryphon, 1 Fateful, and 1 Dracoback) - interruptions on opponents turn
• Invoked Engine (3 Aleister, 3 Meltdown, 2 Invocation, 1 Terraforming) - can make negate (Mechaba) and Raidjin + searches a fusion spell

Hand Traps:

• Ash
• Imperm
• Crossout Designator
• Droll
• Ghost Ogre
• Nibiru
• (Suggestions?)

Extra Deck: - 1x Battle Butler - Quick Effect monster wipe - 2x Rocket Ride - fuses prank kids and resummons them - 1x Weather Washer - just in case - 1/2x Toadally Awesome - Omni-negate - 1x Rip-Roarin-Roaster - potentially useful vs back row decks - 1x Bow-Wow Bark - great for getting pandemonium material back to hand on opponents turn - 2x Dodo-Doodle-Doo - searches pandemonium and can get prank-kids back to hand - 1x Accescode Talker - game closer - 1x Apollousa - negates and can be made easily - 1x Underworld Goddess - insane removal - Invoked (Artemis, Raidjin, Mechaba)
General Combo Line and Board: 1. Use adventure or invoked to bait ash/get negates up 2. Get two Prank-Kids to hand via drawing/searching 3. Get poly to hand via drawing/searching 4. Make Rocket Ride and activate materials 1st and Rocket Ride 3rd to chain block 5. Summon the other 2 Prank-Kids (dump Dropsies if using Fansies effect) 6. Tribute Rocket Ride to get Prank-Kids back from grave 7. Link unused Prank-Kids into Dodo-Doodle-Doo - get 2 Dropsies on field and 1 in grave, 1 Fansies on field, and search Pandemonium 8. Xyz Dropsies into Toad - Summon Emerald Turtle if you have it 9. Either tribute Dodo to get lampsies and dropsies to hand for Battle Butler off pandemonium or link into Bow-Bow and make 2 May Apollo.
Any advice would be greatly appreciated!

When I was brand new to NovelAi I had no idea how 2048 tokens really looked as text. So for anyone looking at the tiers, trying to decide how many tokens they want for Clio with the new update, I've tokenized Part of The Great Gatsby by Scott Fitzgerald (public domain since 2021).
That way new users can more easily visualize what the AI's maximum context is for each tier. According to the UI Clio uses the NerdStash Tokenizer, as different tokenizers will convert text to tokens their own way.
------------------------
In my younger and more vulnerable years my father gave me some advice that I’ve been turning over in my mind ever since.
“Whenever you feel like criticizing anyone,” he told me, “just remember that all the people in this world haven’t had the advantages that you’ve had.”
He didn’t say any more, but we’ve always been unusually communicative in a reserved way, and I understood that he meant a great deal more than that. In consequence, I’m inclined to reserve all judgements, a habit that has opened up many curious natures to me and also made me the victim of not a few veteran bores. The abnormal mind is quick to detect and attach itself to this quality when it appears in a normal person, and so it came about that in college I was unjustly accused of being a politician, because I was privy to the secret griefs of wild, unknown men. Most of the confidences were unsought—frequently I have feigned sleep, preoccupation, or a hostile levity when I realized by some unmistakable sign that an intimate revelation was quivering on the horizon; for the intimate revelations of young men, or at least the terms in which they express them, are usually plagiaristic and marred by obvious suppressions. Reserving judgements is a matter of infinite hope. I am still a little afraid of missing something if I forget that, as my father snobbishly suggested, and I snobbishly repeat, a sense of the fundamental decencies is parcelled out unequally at birth.
And, after boasting this way of my tolerance, I come to the admission that it has a limit. Conduct may be founded on the hard rock or the wet marshes, but after a certain point I don’t care what it’s founded on. When I came back from the East last autumn I felt that I wanted the world to be in uniform and at a sort of moral attention forever; I wanted no more riotous excursions with privileged glimpses into the human heart. Only Gatsby, the man who gives his name to this book, was exempt from my reaction—Gatsby, who represented everything for which I have an unaffected scorn. If personality is an unbroken series of successful gestures, then there was something gorgeous about him, some heightened sensitivity to the promises of life, as if he were related to one of those intricate machines that register earthquakes ten thousand miles away. This responsiveness had nothing to do with that flabby impressionability which is dignified under the name of the “creative temperament”—it was an extraordinary gift for hope, a romantic readiness such as I have never found in any other person and which it is not likely I shall ever find again. No—Gatsby turned out all right at the end; it is what preyed on Gatsby, what foul dust floated in the wake of his dreams that temporarily closed out my interest in the abortive sorrows and short-winded elations of men.
My family have been prominent, well-to-do people in this Middle Western city for three generations. The Carraways are something of a clan, and we have a tradition that we’re descended from the Dukes of Buccleuch, but the actual founder of my line was my grandfather’s brother, who came here in fifty-one, sent a substitute to the Civil War, and started the wholesale hardware business that my father carries on today.
I never saw this great-uncle, but I’m supposed to look like him—with special reference to the rather hard-boiled painting that hangs in father’s office. I graduated from New Haven in 1915, just a quarter of a century after my father, and a little later I participated in that delayed Teutonic migration known as the Great War. I enjoyed the counter-raid so thoroughly that I came back restless. Instead of being the warm centre of the world, the Middle West now seemed like the ragged edge of the universe—so I decided to go East and learn the bond business. Everybody I knew was in the bond business, so I supposed it could support one more single man. All my aunts and uncles talked it over as if they were choosing a prep school for me, and finally said, “Why—ye-es,” with very grave, hesitant faces. Father agreed to finance me for a year, and after various delays I came East, permanently, I thought, in the spring of twenty-two.
The practical thing was to find rooms in the city, but it was a warm season, and I had just left a country of wide lawns and friendly trees, so when a young man at the office suggested that we take a house together in a commuting town, it sounded like a great idea. He found the house, a weather-beaten cardboard bungalow at eighty a month, but at the last minute the firm ordered him to Washington, and I went out to the country alone. I had a dog—at least I had him for a few days until he ran away—and an old Dodge and a Finnish woman, who made my bed and cooked breakfast and muttered Finnish wisdom to herself over the electric stove.
It was lonely for a day or so until one morning some man, more recently arrived than I, stopped me on the road.
“How do you get to West Egg village?” he asked helplessly.
I told him. And as I walked on I was lonely no longer. I was a guide, a pathfinder, an original settler. He had casually conferred on me the freedom of the neighbourhood.
And so with the sunshine and the great bursts of leaves growing on the trees, just as things grow in fast movies, I had that familiar conviction that life was beginning over again with the summer.
There was so much to read, for one thing, and so much fine health to be pulled down out of the young breath-giving air. I bought a dozen volumes on banking and credit and investment securities, and they stood on my shelf in red and gold like new money from the mint, promising to unfold the shining secrets that only Midas and Morgan and Maecenas knew. And I had the high intention of reading many other books besides. I was rather literary in college—one year I wrote a series of very solemn and obvious editorials for the Yale News—and now I was going to bring back all such things into my life and become again that most limited of all specialists, the “well-rounded man.” This isn’t just an epigram—life is much more successfully looked at from a single window, after all.
It was a matter of chance that I should have rented a house in one of the strangest communities in North America. It was on that slender riotous island which extends itself due east of New York—and where there are, among other natural curiosities, two unusual formations of land. Twenty miles from the city a pair of enormous eggs, identical in contour and separated only by a courtesy bay, jut out into the most domesticated body of salt water in the Western hemisphere, the great wet barnyard of Long Island Sound. They are not perfect ovals—like the egg in the Columbus story, they are both crushed flat at the contact end—but their physical resemblance must be a source of perpetual wonder to the gulls that fly overhead. To the wingless a more interesting phenomenon is their dissimilarity in every particular except shape and size.
I lived at West Egg, the—well, the less fashionable of the two, though this is a most superficial tag to express the bizarre and not a little sinister contrast between them. My house was at the very tip of the egg, only fifty yards from the Sound, and squeezed between two huge places that rented for twelve or fifteen thousand a season. The one on my right was a colossal affair by any standard—it was a factual imitation of some Hôtel de Ville in Normandy, with a tower on one side, spanking new under a thin beard of raw ivy, and a marble swimming pool, and more than forty acres of lawn and garden. It was Gatsby’s mansion. Or, rather, as I didn’t know Mr. Gatsby, it was a mansion inhabited by a gentleman of that name. My own house was an eyesore, but it was a small eyesore, and it had been overlooked, so I had a view of the water, a partial view of my neighbour’s lawn, and the consoling proximity of millionaires—all for eighty dollars a month.
Across the courtesy bay the white palaces of fashionable East Egg glittered along the water, and the history of the summer really begins on the evening I drove over there to have dinner with the Tom Buchanans. Daisy was my second cousin once removed, and I’d known Tom in college. And just after the war I spent two days with them in Chicago.
Her husband, among various physical accomplishments, had been one of the most powerful ends that ever played football at New Haven—a national figure in a way, one of those men who reach such an acute limited excellence at twenty-one that everything afterward savours of anticlimax. His family were enormously wealthy—even in college his freedom with money was a matter for reproach—but now he’d left Chicago and come East in a fashion that rather took your breath away: for instance, he’d brought down a string of polo ponies from Lake Forest. It was hard to realize that a man in my own generation was wealthy enough to do that.
Why they came East I don’t know. They had spent a year in France for no particular reason, and then drifted here and there unrestfully wherever people played polo and were rich together. This was a permanent move, said Daisy over the telephone, but I didn’t believe it—I had no sight into Daisy’s heart, but I felt that Tom would drift on forever seeking, a little wistfully, for the dramatic turbulence of some irrecoverable football game.
And so it happened that on a warm windy evening I drove over to East Egg to see two old friends whom I scarcely knew at all. Their house was even more elaborate than I expected, a cheerful red-and-white Georgian Colonial mansion, overlooking the bay. The lawn started at the beach and ran towards the front door for a quarter of a mile, jumping over sundials and brick walks and burning gardens—finally when it reached the house drifting up the side in bright vines as though from the momentum of its run. The front was broken by a line of French windows, glowing now with reflected gold and wide open to the warm windy afternoon, and Tom Buchanan in riding clothes was standing with his legs apart on the front porch.
He had changed since his New Haven years. Now he was a sturdy straw-haired man of thirty, with a rather hard mouth and a supercilious manner. Two shining arrogant eyes had established dominance over his face and gave him the appearance of always leaning aggressively forward. Not even the effeminate swank of his riding clothes could hide the enormous power of that body—he seemed to fill those glistening boots until he strained the top lacing, and you could see a great pack of muscle shifting when his shoulder moved under his thin coat. It was a body capable of enormous leverage—a cruel body.
His speaking voice, a gruff husky tenor, added to the impression of fractiousness he conveyed. There was a touch of paternal contempt in it, even toward people he liked—and there were men at New Haven who had hated his guts.
“Now, don’t think my opinion on these matters is final,” he seemed to say, “just because I’m stronger and more of a man than you are.” We were in the same senior society, and while we were never intimate I always had the impression that he approved of me and wanted me to like him with some harsh, defiant wistfulness of his own.
We talked for a few minutes on the sunny porch.
“I’ve got a nice place here,” he said, his eyes flashing about restlessly.
Turning me around by one arm, he moved a broad flat hand along the front vista, including in its sweep a sunken Italian garden, a half acre of deep, pungent roses, and a snub-nosed motorboat that bumped the tide offshore.
“It belonged to Demaine, the oil man.” He turned me around again, politely and abruptly. “We’ll go inside.”
We walked through a high hallway into a bright rosy-coloured space, fragilely bound into the house by French windows at either end. The windows were ajar and gleaming white against the fresh grass outside that seemed to grow a little way into the house. A breeze blew through the room, blew curtains in at one end and out the other like pale flags, twisting them up toward the frosted wedding-cake of the ceiling, and then rippled over the wine-coloured rug, making a shadow on it as wind does on the sea.
The only completely stationary object in the room was an enormous couch on which two young women were buoyed up as though upon an anchored balloon. They were both in white, and their dresses were rippling and fluttering as if they had just been blown back in after a short flight around the house. I must have stood for a few moments listening to the whip and snap of the curtains and the groan of a picture on the wall. Then there was a boom as Tom Buchanan shut the rear windows and the caught wind died out about the room, and the curtains and the rugs and the two young women ballooned slowly to the floor.
The younger of the two was a stranger to me. She was extended full length at her end of the divan, completely motionless, and with her chin raised a little, as if she were balancing something on it which was quite likely to fall. If she saw me out of the corner of her eyes she gave no hint of it—indeed, I was almost surprised into murmuring an apology for having disturbed her by coming in.
The other girl, Daisy, made an attempt to rise—she leaned slightly forward with a conscientious expression—then she laughed, an absurd, charming little laugh, and I laughed too and came forward into the room.
“I’m p-paralysed with happiness.”
She
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laughed again, as if she said something very witty, and held my hand for a moment, looking up into my face, promising that there was no one in the world she so much wanted to see. That was a way she had. She hinted in a murmur that the surname of the balancing girl was Baker. (I’ve heard it said that Daisy’s murmur was only to make people lean toward her; an irrelevant criticism that made it no less charming.)
At any rate, Miss Baker’s lips fluttered, she nodded at me almost imperceptibly, and then quickly tipped her head back again—the object she was balancing had obviously tottered a little and given her something of a fright. Again a sort of apology arose to my lips. Almost any exhibition of complete self-sufficiency draws a stunned tribute from me.
I looked back at my cousin, who began to ask me questions in her low, thrilling voice. It was the kind of voice that the ear follows up and down, as if each speech is an arrangement of notes that will never be played again. Her face was sad and lovely with bright things in it, bright eyes and a bright passionate mouth, but there was an excitement in her voice that men who had cared for her found difficult to forget: a singing compulsion, a whispered “Listen,” a promise that she had done gay, exciting things just a while since and that there were gay, exciting things hovering in the next hour.
I told her how I had stopped off in Chicago for a day on my way East, and how a dozen people had sent their love through me.
“Do they miss me?” she cried ecstatically.
“The whole town is desolate. All the cars have the left rear wheel painted black as a mourning wreath, and there’s a persistent wail all night along the north shore.”
“How gorgeous! Let’s go back, Tom. Tomorrow!” Then she added irrelevantly: “You ought to see the baby.”
“I’d like to.”
“She’s asleep. She’s three years old. Haven’t you ever seen her?”
“Never.”
“Well, you ought to see her. She’s—”
Tom Buchanan, who had been hovering restlessly about the room, stopped and rested his hand on my shoulder.
“What you doing, Nick?”
“I’m a bond man.”
“Who with?”
I told him.
“Never heard of them,” he remarked decisively.
This annoyed me.
“You will,” I answered shortly. “You will if you stay in the East.”
“Oh, I’ll stay in the East, don’t you worry,” he said, glancing at Daisy and then back at me, as if he were alert for something more. “I’d be a God damned fool to live anywhere else.”
At this point Miss Baker said: “Absolutely!” with such suddenness that I started—it was the first word she had uttered since I came into the room. Evidently it surprised her as much as it did me, for she yawned and with a series of rapid, deft movements stood up into the room.
“I’m stiff,” she complained, “I’ve been lying on that sofa for as long as I can remember.”
“Don’t look at me,” Daisy retorted, “I’ve been trying to get you to New York all afternoon.”
“No, thanks,” said Miss Baker to the four cocktails just in from the pantry. “I’m absolutely in training.”
Her host looked at her incredulously.
“You are!” He took down his drink as if it were a drop in the bottom of a glass. “How you ever get anything done is beyond me.”
I looked at Miss Baker, wondering what it was she “got done.” I enjoyed looking at her. She was a slender, small-breasted girl, with an erect carriage, which she accentuated by throwing her body backward at the shoulders like a young cadet. Her grey sun-strained eyes looked back at me with polite reciprocal curiosity out of a wan, charming, discontented face. It occurred to me now that I had seen her, or a picture of her, somewhere before.
“You live in West Egg,” she remarked contemptuously. “I know somebody there.”
“I don’t know a single—”
“You must know Gatsby.”
“Gatsby?” demanded Daisy. “What Gatsby?”
Before I could reply that he was my neighbour dinner was announced; wedging his tense arm imperatively under mine, Tom Buchanan compelled me from the room as though he were moving a checker to another square.
Slenderly, languidly, their hands set lightly on their hips, the two young women preceded us out on to a rosy-coloured porch, open toward the sunset, where four candles flickered on the table in the diminished wind.
“Why candles?” objected Daisy, frowning. She snapped them out with her fingers. “In two weeks it’ll be the longest day in the year.” She looked at us all radiantly. “Do you always watch for the longest day of the year and then miss it? I always watch for the longest day in the year and then miss it.”
“We ought to plan something,” yawned Miss Baker, sitting down at the table as if she were getting into bed.
“All right,” said Daisy. “What’ll we plan?” She turned to me helplessly: “What do people plan?”
Before I could answer her eyes fastened with an awed expression on her little finger.
“Look!” she complained; “I hurt it.”
We all looked—the knuckle was black and blue.
“You did it, Tom,” she said accusingly. “I know you didn’t mean to, but you did do it. That’s what I get for marrying a brute of a man, a great, big, hulking physical specimen of a—”
“I hate that word ‘hulking,’ ” objected Tom crossly, “even in kidding.”
“Hulking,” insisted Daisy.
Sometimes she and Miss Baker talked at once, unobtrusively and with a bantering inconsequence that was never quite chatter, that was as cool as their white dresses and their impersonal eyes in the absence of all desire. They were here, and they accepted Tom and me, making only a polite pleasant effort to entertain or to be entertained. They knew that presently dinner would be over and a little later the evening too would be over and casually put away. It was sharply different from the West, where an evening was hurried from phase to phase towards its close, in a continually disappointed anticipation or else in sheer nervous dread of the moment itself.
“You make me feel uncivilized, Daisy,” I confessed on my second glass of corky but rather impressive claret. “Can’t you talk about crops or something?”
I meant nothing in particular by this remark, but it was taken up in an unexpected way.
“Civilization’s going to pieces,” broke out Tom violently. “I’ve gotten to be a terrible pessimist about things. Have you read The Rise of the Coloured Empires by this man Goddard?”
“Why, no,” I answered, rather surprised by his tone.
“Well, it’s a fine book, and everybody ought to read it. The idea is if we don’t look out the white race will be—will be utterly submerged. It’s all scientific stuff; it’s been proved.”
“Tom’s getting very profound,” said Daisy, with an expression of unthoughtful sadness. “He reads deep books with long words in them. What was that word we—”
“Well, these books are all scientific,” insisted Tom, glancing at her impatiently. “This fellow has worked out the whole thing. It’s up to us, who are the dominant race, to watch out or these other races will have control of things.”
“We’ve got to beat them down,” whispered Daisy, winking ferociously toward the fervent sun.
“You ought to live in California—” began Miss Baker, but Tom interrupted her by shifting heavily in his chair.
“This idea is that we’re Nordics. I am, and you are, and you are, and—” After an infinitesimal hesitation he included Daisy with a slight nod, and she winked at me again. “—And we’ve produced all the things that go to make civilization—oh, science and art, and all that. Do you see?”
There was something pathetic in his concentration, as if his complacency, more acute than of old, was not enough to him any more. When, almost immediately, the telephone rang inside and the butler left the porch Daisy seized upon the momentary interruption and leaned towards me.
“I’ll tell you a family secret,” she whispered enthusiastically. “It’s about the butler’s nose. Do you want to hear about the butler’s nose?”
“That’s why I came over tonight.”
“Well, he wasn’t always a butler; he used to be the silver polisher for some people in New York that had a silver service for two hundred people. He had to polish it from morning till night, until finally it began to affect his nose—”
“Things went from bad to worse,” suggested Miss Baker.
“Yes. Things went from bad to worse, until finally he had to give up his position.”
For a moment the last sunshine fell with romantic affection upon her glowing face; her voice compelled me forward breathlessly as I listened—then the glow faded, each light deserting her with lingering regret, like children leaving a pleasant street at dusk.
The butler came back and murmured something close to Tom’s ear, whereupon Tom frowned, pushed back his chair, and without a word went inside. As if his absence quickened something within her, Daisy leaned forward again, her voice glowing and singing.
“I love to see you at my table, Nick. You remind me of a—of a rose, an absolute rose. Doesn’t he?” She turned to Miss Baker for confirmation: “An absolute rose?”
This was untrue. I am not even faintly like a rose. She was only extemporizing, but a stirring warmth flowed from her, as if her heart was trying to come out to you concealed in one of those breathless, thrilling words. Then suddenly she threw her napkin on the table and excused herself and went into the house.
Miss Baker and I exchanged a short glance consciously devoid of meaning. I was about to speak when she sat up alertly and said “Sh!” in a warning voice. A subdued impassioned murmur was audible in the room beyond, and Miss Baker leaned forward unashamed, trying to hear. The murmur trembled on the verge of coherence, sank down, mounted excitedly, and then ceased altogether.
“This Mr. Gatsby you spoke of is my neighbour—” I began.
“Don’t talk. I want to hear what happens.”
“Is something happening?” I inquired innocently.
“You mean to say you don’t know?” said Miss Baker, honestly surprised. “I thought everybody knew.”
“I don’t.”
“Why—” she said hesitantly. “Tom’s got some woman in New York.”
“Got some woman?” I repeated blankly.
Miss Baker nodded.
“She might have the decency not to telephone him at dinner time. Don’t you think?”
Almost before I had grasped her meaning there was the flutter of a dress and the crunch of leather boots, and Tom and Daisy were back at the table.
“It couldn’t be helped!” cried Daisy with tense gaiety.
She sat down, glanced searchingly at Miss Baker and then at me, and continued: “I looked outdoors for a minute, and it’s very romantic outdoors. There’s a bird on the lawn that I think must be a nightingale come over on the Cunard or White Star Line. He’s singing away—” Her voice sang: “It’s romantic, isn’t it, Tom?”
“Very romantic,” he said, and then miserably to me: “If it’s light enough after dinner, I want to take you down to the stables.”
The telephone rang inside, startlingly, and as Daisy shook her head decisively at Tom the subject of the stables, in fact all subjects, vanished into air. Among the broken fragments of the last five minutes at table I remember the candles being lit again, pointlessly, and I was conscious of wanting to look squarely at everyone, and yet to avoid all eyes. I couldn’t guess what Daisy and Tom were thinking, but I doubt if even Miss Baker, who seemed to have mastered a certain hardy scepticism, was able utterly to put this fifth guest’s shrill metallic urgency out of mind. To a certain temperament the situation might have seemed intriguing—my own instinct was to telephone immediately for the police.
The horses, needless to say, were not mentioned again. Tom and Miss Baker, with several feet of twilight between them, strolled back into the library, as if to a vigil beside a perfectly tangible body, while, trying to look pleasantly interested and a little deaf, I followed Daisy around a chain of connecting verandas to the porch in front. In its deep gloom we sat down side by side on a wicker settee.
Daisy took her face in her hands as if feeling its lovely shape, and her eyes moved gradually out into the velvet dusk. I saw that turbulent emotions possessed her, so I asked what I thought would be some sedative questions about her little girl.
“We don’t know each other very well, Nick,” she said suddenly. “Even if we are cousins. You didn’t come to my wedding.”
“I wasn’t back from the war.”
“That’s true.” She hesitated. “Well, I’ve had a very bad time, Nick, and I’m pretty cynical about everything.”
Evidently she had reason to be. I waited but she
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didn’t say any more, and after a moment I returned rather feebly to the subject of her daughter.
“I suppose she talks, and—eats, and everything.”
“Oh, yes.” She looked at me absently. “Listen, Nick; let me tell you what I said when she was born. Would you like to hear?”
“Very much.”
“It’ll show you how I’ve gotten to feel about—things. Well, she was less than an hour old and Tom was God knows where. I woke up out of the ether with an utterly abandoned feeling, and asked the nurse right away if it was a boy or a girl. She told me it was a girl, and so I turned my head away and wept. ‘All right,’ I said, ‘I’m glad it’s a girl. And I hope she’ll be a fool—that’s the best thing a girl can be in this world, a beautiful little fool.’
“You see I think everything’s terrible anyhow,” she went on in a convinced way. “Everybody thinks so—the most advanced people. And I know. I’ve been everywhere and seen everything and done everything.” Her eyes flashed around her in a defiant way, rather like Tom’s, and she laughed with thrilling scorn. “Sophisticated—God, I’m sophisticated!”
The instant her voice broke off, ceasing to compel my attention, my belief, I felt the basic insincerity of what she had said. It made me uneasy, as though the whole evening had been a trick of some sort to exact a contributory emotion from me. I waited, and sure enough, in a moment she looked at me with an absolute smirk on her lovely face, as if she had asserted her membership in a rather distinguished secret society to which she and Tom belonged.
Inside, the crimson room bloomed with light. Tom and Miss Baker sat at either end of the long couch and she read aloud to him from the Saturday Evening Post—the words, murmurous and uninflected, running together in a soothing tune. The lamplight, bright on his boots and dull on the autumn-leaf yellow of her hair, glinted along the paper as she turned a page with a flutter of slender muscles in her arms.
When we came in she held us silent for a moment with a lifted hand.
“To be continued,” she said, tossing the magazine on the table, “in our very next issue.”
Her body asserted itself with a restless movement of her knee, and she stood up.
“Ten o’clock,” she remarked, apparently finding the time on the ceiling. “Time for this good girl to go to bed.”
“Jordan’s going to play in the tournament tomorrow,” explained Daisy, “over at Westchester.”
“Oh—you’re Jordan Baker.”
I knew now why her face was familiar—its pleasing contemptuous expression had looked out at me from many rotogravure pictures of the sporting life at Asheville and Hot Springs and Palm Beach. I had heard some story of her too, a critical, unpleasant story, but what it was I had forgotten long ago.
“Good night,” she said softly. “Wake me at eight, won’t you.”
“If you’ll get up.”
“I will. Good night, Mr. Carraway. See you anon.”
“Of course you will,” confirmed Daisy. “In fact I think I’ll arrange a marriage. Come over often, Nick, and I’ll sort of—oh—fling you together. You know—lock you up accidentally in linen closets and push you out to sea in a boat, and all that sort of thing—”
“Good night,” called Miss Baker from the stairs. “I haven’t heard a word.”
“She’s a nice girl,” said Tom after a moment. “They oughtn’t to let her run around the country this way.”
“Who oughtn’t to?” inquired Daisy coldly.
“Her family.”
“Her family is one aunt about a thousand years old. Besides, Nick’s going to look after her, aren’t you, Nick? She’s going to spend lots of weekends out here this summer. I think the home influence will be very good for her.”
Daisy and Tom looked at each other for a moment in silence.
“Is she from New York?” I asked quickly.
“From Louisville. Our white girlhood was passed together there. Our beautiful white—”
“Did you give Nick a little heart to heart talk on the veranda?” demanded Tom suddenly.
“Did I?” She looked at me. “I can’t seem to remember, but I think we talked about the Nordic race. Yes, I’m sure we did. It sort of crept up on us and first thing you know—”
“Don’t believe everything you hear, Nick,” he advised me.
I said lightly that I had heard nothing at all, and a few minutes later I got up to go home. They came to the door with me and stood side by side in a cheerful square of light. As I started my motor Daisy peremptorily called: “Wait!”
“I forgot to ask you something, and it’s important. We heard you were engaged to a girl out West.”
“That’s right,” corroborated Tom kindly. “We heard that you were engaged.”
“It’s a libel. I’m too poor.”
“But we heard it,” insisted Daisy, surprising me by opening up again in a flower-like way. “We heard it from three people, so it must be true.”
Of course I knew what they were referring to, but I wasn’t even vaguely engaged. The fact that gossip had published the banns was one of the reasons I had come East. You can’t stop going with an old friend on account of rumours, and on the other hand I had no intention of being rumoured into marriage.
Their interest rather touched me and made them less remotely rich—nevertheless, I was confused and a little disgusted as I drove away. It seemed to me that the thing for Daisy to do was to rush out of the house, child in arms—but apparently there were no such intentions in her head. As for Tom, the fact that he “had some woman in New York” was really less surprising than that he had been depressed by a book. Something was making him nibble at the edge of stale ideas as if his sturdy physical egotism no longer nourished his peremptory heart.
Already it was deep summer on roadhouse roofs and in front of wayside garages, where new red petrol-pumps sat out in pools of light, and when I reached my estate at West Egg I ran the car under its shed and sat for a while on an abandoned grass roller in the yard. The wind had blown off, leaving a loud, bright night, with wings beating in the trees and a persistent organ sound as the full bellows of the earth blew the frogs full of life. The silhouette of a moving cat wavered across the moonlight, and, turning my head to watch it, I saw that I was not alone—fifty feet away a figure had emerged from the shadow of my neighbour’s mansion and was standing with his hands in his pockets regarding the silver pepper of the stars. Something in his leisurely movements and the secure position of his feet upon the lawn suggested that it was Mr. Gatsby himself, come out to determine what share was his of our local heavens.
I decided to call to him. Miss Baker had mentioned him at dinner, and that would do for an introduction. But I didn’t call to him, for he gave a sudden intimation that he was content to be alone—he stretched out his arms toward the dark water in a curious way, and, far as I was from him, I could have sworn he was trembling. Involuntarily I glanced seaward—and distinguished nothing except a single green light, minute and far away, that might have been the end of a dock. When I looked once more for Gatsby he had vanished, and I was alone again in the unquiet darkness.
II
About halfway between West Egg and New York the motor road hastily joins the railroad and runs beside it for a quarter of a mile, so as to shrink away from a certain desolate area of land. This is a valley of ashes—a fantastic farm where ashes grow like wheat into ridges and hills and grotesque gardens; where ashes take the forms of houses and chimneys and rising smoke and, finally, with a transcendent effort, of ash-grey men, who move dimly and already crumbling through the powdery air. Occasionally a line of grey cars crawls along an invisible track, gives out a ghastly creak, and comes to rest, and immediately the ash-grey men swarm up with leaden spades and stir up an impenetrable cloud, which screens their obscure operations from your sight.
But above the grey land and the spasms of bleak dust which drift endlessly over it, you perceive, after a moment, the eyes of Doctor T. J. Eckleburg. The eyes of Doctor T. J. Eckleburg are blue and gigantic—their retinas are one yard high. They look out of no face, but, instead, from a pair of enormous yellow spectacles which pass over a nonexistent nose. Evidently some wild wag of an oculist set them there to
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South Dakota State South Dakota State @ Butler Butler
Game Start Time: 3:30 PM ET
Location: Jack Trice Stadium, Ames, Iowa
Watch: Fox Sports Network
South Dakota State South Dakota State

Total Passing Yards	Total Rushing Yards	Total Yards	Interceptions Lost	Fumbles Lost	Field Goals	Time of Possession	Timeouts
118 yards	259 yards	377 yards	0	3	0/1	20:17	3

Butler Butler

Total Passing Yards	Total Rushing Yards	Total Yards	Interceptions Lost	Fumbles Lost	Field Goals	Time of Possession	Timeouts
64 yards	15 yards	79 yards	0	1	0/0	7:40	1

Drive Summary
home for 7 yards in 36 seconds ending in punt
away for 6 yards in 50 seconds ending in punt
home for 6 yards in 53 seconds ending in punt
away for 57 yards in 138 seconds ending in touchdown
home for 17 yards in 63 seconds ending in punt
away for 87 yards in 147 seconds ending in touchdown
home for 13 yards in 72 seconds ending in punt
away for -6 yards in 19 seconds ending in turnover_touchdown
away for 10 yards in 63 seconds ending in turnover
away for 0 yards in 15 seconds ending in turnover
away for 65 yards in 41 seconds ending in touchdown
away for 48 yards in 188 seconds ending in miss
home for 26 yards in 71 seconds ending in punt
away for 30 yards in 108 seconds ending in turnover_touchdown
away for -1 yards in 100 seconds ending in turnover
home for 5 yards in 33 seconds ending in turnover
away for 81 yards in 260 seconds ending in touchdown

Team	Q1	Q2	Q3	Q4	Total
Butler	0	7	0	7	14
South Dakota State	7	14	0	6	27

Game thread
Plays

Game complete, South Dakota State wins!

Seems like ReddX enjoyed the last story he narrated, and people here seem to want more... Far be it from me to deny you that all-too-enticing hit of cringe, so we'll get after is again today. Before we do though, I'd like to invite you into my head. It might help explain my reaction (or lack of one) to the previous dating nightmare. I was young, I was raised by alcoholic parents, and I was taught that speaking up about anything only brings trouble.
I don't need pity, I've been to therapy and moved past it for the most part, it's simply to shed some light on why I remained so passive through these events. Truth be told, this series of strange and awful dates slowly helped to bring me out of the shell that I'd built for myself, so it was all happening for a reason I guess... but we aren't there quite yet.
Dean was the worst date, but he wasn't the first date that I subjected to myself from Tinder. No, that honor belongs to Ben the Bellybutton Boy. Cast lists are unnecessary, TLDR is at the end. Let's get the cringe-train rolling.
Ben's profile wasn't very intricate. A single line about wanting something meaningful, which doesn't hold much water for me anymore... but I was 18 and naïve. Some might say that I was also fairly shallow. In one picture he was drinking a Natty Ice, in another he had on a backwards hat. I was close to swiping left on yet another bro-dude and carrying on... But then I got one look at Ben with his shirt off and I was hooked.
It might be a catfish, but for a body like that? I was more than willing to take my shot. Suffice to say, that he was a gorgeous human being. I should've been looking more than skin deep though, because Ben had some deep dark secrets. He did match with me though, and I was super flattered. We had a meandering conversation. I learned that he loves his mom, and is absolutely terrified of horror movies. Those things will come into play later. He didn't seem to have much to say that was interesting or clever, but I let it all slide. Ben's abs were blinders, a 3 pack on each side.
He seemed to push for a meetup rather fast, which usually made me go ghost in the few Tinder conversations I'd had before... But I thought to myself that now I was finally ready for an actual date with an internet stranger. Maybe he was way more interesting in person. (He was interesting, but not in the way that I'd hoped.) The fact that his body was chiseled from granite-turned-flesh had nothing to do with my decision. Again, isn't it funny the lies that we tell ourselves?
Ben wanted me to come over to his place and stupidly, I agreed to do so. We'd only been talking for about a week, and now I was going to deliver myself to his front door? Walk right into the wolf-den and hope for the best? God... I swear, I'd love to shake the living shit out of my past-self... but I truly didn't know better at the time. Maybe we would actually watch some Netflix and chill? Could he actually be looking for something meaningful?
Ben's place was in a lower-middle-class section of the LA outskirts. At the time, I thought it looked pretty busted but compared to some of my later encounters? It wasn't the worst house. Sort of non-descript and uninteresting, but well-maintained... much like Ben himself, I suppose. I scoped it out for a few minutes. Surfboards on the porch, a few potted plants, a bench-seat out front. It seemed very normal, so I collected myself, headed up to the front door, and knocked.
Ben answered and he was all smiles. He lifted my arm above my head and I gave him a little twirl. After a wolf-whistle, he commented that he'd like to see something that showed a bit more of my midriff. He gestured for me to show my stomach to him, and I did. I didn't mind. I put work into it. A strong body starts with a strong core. Ben seemed satisfied. Maybe a bit more than that in hindsight. His eyes devoured me, but he was a hunk. So I didn't mind. His predatory nature would soon be revealed to me, but I had no idea what I was in for quite yet. Instead, I let him scoop me up into a hug before he invited me inside.
The house was sort of bohemian. Lots of incense holders and dreamcatchers. Definitely not the sort of thing I'd pick, but he was a stoner-surfer bro-dude. Maybe all of this stuff was just evidence of a more sensitive side to him? I asked about some of the knick-knacks, just trying to initiate idle conversation and maybe dig past the surface level. It worked a bit. He ended up telling me about spending time in India. He seemed to harbor a lot of disdain for the country. Said people were shitting all in the streets and he couldn't find clean water anywhere. "It's like Mexico with way more poop and a few less beheadings."
I laughed. The line wasn't that funny, but the laugh also served to diffuse some of the tense atmosphere that had been created after endless jabs about everything from the caste system to the "dirty" street food and everything in between. He didn't overly-focus on a lack of attention from women, but it was mentioned. I made a mental note. Ben definitely had some entitlement issues, and with that rage simmering below the surface? It could be an explosive combination. I made a note to mind my P's and Q's and shifted the subject, asking what he had planned for Netflix.
He led me to the couch without answering and handed me the remote. "I'll leave that up to you. I've gotta finish preparing the feast." There had been a couple of red-flags so far, but nothing that would make me go screaming into the night. At least, not yet. I hit 'surprise me' on Netflix, and Ben came back into the room with a platter covered in fish. They were sardines. Even before my seafood surprise from part 1, I wasn't a huge fan of fish. Ben saw the look on my face and presumed that he should explain his dining choices. I really wish that he hadn't.
"I try to eat sardines and pineapple almost exclusively because I'm load-maxxing." he said with a nod.
I thought it was a weight-lifting term, and I just sort of nodded right back... but my face must've still look quizzical because he continued.
"You know how some male porn stars can shoot like the biggest loads of jizz? I think that's super hot, and I wanna be able to do that... But also have it taste good too. Not that I'm gay or anything, I don't eat my own cum like some [redacted] but I just think it's super sexy when a girl is enjoying herself. I'm also taking selenium supplements too and it's totally working. I can fill up a whole shot glass now. Before I started load-maxxing it was just like, this sad little poot of semen... But now I'm shooting ropes of the stuff! I might show you later, if you're lucky."
I frowned and shook my head, but I don't think he took much notice of it as he went to work obliterating those smelly, oily little fishies. I didn't speak up, but like any sane person... I knew at this point that I was wrong about my assessment aaand it was time to make my escape. However, due to the constraints of the social contract that we've all unwillingly signed, I'd need to bide my time and find the proper strategy. I definitely didn't want to have this jizzed up meathead explode in my face, if you'll excuse the pun. You don't just declare war, y'know? You prime the press, you square things with the UN, you make up your reasons.
The 'surprise me' movie that I can't remember rolled on, and he offered me the fish-plate. I politely declined. My brain was occupied with the perfect exit, and hunger is a decent motivator. When you combine that with the unpredictable meatball that I was seated next to? I should've been launching off that couch like a rocket. Truth be told? I should've just blitzed the front door and not bothered to explain myself. He might get upset, but I'd be safe in the car... But then I wouldn't have this story to share.
Eventually, the sardines all went to meet poopoo-Jesus and he leaned back on the couch. He snaked his hand onto my shoulder and pulled me backwards. I wasn't in the mood to cuddle so I'd scoot away, then he'd inch closer. I hated every second of this awkward little dance, but the strangeness got turned up to 11 when I hit the edge of the couch... And he started running his oily unwashed fish-fingers around my bellybutton. I squirmed away and stood up. I told him that this was all getting to be a little bit too much, too soon... but Bellybutton Boy wasn't about to let me escape that easily.
He stood up in that same moment and blocked the walkway to the front door. He asked me to please sit back down while at the same time 'guiding' me by the shoulders. He was far too forceful for my liking. It was a gentle pull into his arm, a gentle push back into the couch... But this was our first date. I've seen things like this before between my own parents. This toolbox is one bad argument away from throwing a cinderblock at the back of my head. I took a deep breath and used my go-to tactic of avoiding conflict at that time: submission.
As I sat back onto the couch, he dropped to his knees. I was expecting the worst to happen, but instead he started to baby-talk me... Which is still pretty fucking bad.
"Does wittle Dawnie want to see baby Ben's tongue? I can wick your wittle bewwybutton. Then maybe we can go pway wiff somefing ewse. My woad is about to expwode..."
I still wonder if he meant for it to rhyme. It was effective, in a way. I still remember those words many years later. The thousand-yard stare, I had adopted as my defense, started to gaze through time and space. Trying to find any reality that wasn't this one. Just because my body was stuck there, didn't mean that my brain had to be... So I disconnected as much as possible, but even Terri Schiavo would take notice of the horror that would befall me next.
I suppose baby Ben the bellybutton bully boy took my silence and disaffected staring at the ceiling as consent, because he lifted my shirt enough to expose my bellybutton. The first this he did was give it a really deep sniff before letting out a satisfied "ohhhh yeahhhh". Was he looking for a good scent? A bad one? Was he just THAT excited to unveil the mysterious allure of a teenage navel? The debate rages on until this very day. It doesn't matter much, because he didn't stop at smelling it.
His tongue slipped into that umbilical scar and started to explore. I never wanted this. I didn't consent at any point, but I didn't outright say "NO" either. I've unpacked this experience with multiple therapists. I think what I remember most vividly was looking down and seeing his oily fish lips. They were sucking on my stomach like my navel was the last source of oxygen on the planet. I recall seeing his tongue, covered in the desiccated and masticated remains of a sardine meal, fishing around for whatever the hell it was he wanted. He kept muttering to himself between spelunking expeditions, weird shit like "ooo baby wike your bewwy" and "mama make benny's peepee so hawd".
The cringe-meter was redlining, and I finally realized that he wasn't going to stop unless I made him stop. I told him that I had to pee, and that he should PLEASE drink some water. I was hoping it might wash away some of the sardine leftovers, if I really did need to come back. At this point, my plan was to bail out the bathroom window. Until I got to the bathroom and saw that the window was only about 6 inches tall. Just enough to air out sardine-and-selenium-laden ploppers, but not enough to do me any good.
I must've stood in that bathroom for 20 minutes or so. There was no escape. If I wanted out, I'd need to go through. Just as a reminder from the universe, every once in a while I'd hear Ben let out a large belch. At least he was washing his fishy mouth out. I steeled myself and headed back into the living room. I lied that I had a text from my mom and had to leave, but Ben wrapped his arms around me and begged to finish our date. I could clearly smell beer on his breath. Memories of dear old dad must've kicked in, because I found myself agreeing to sit on the couch again.
He continued rubbing his stale-beer-smelling mouth all over my stomach, except this time there was the added benefit of pauses to burp every so often. "Isn't dat so funny? Doesn't dat sound wike a echo mama?" I truly did want to die in that moment. I had to find some way to at least pump the brakes, if not bail out completely. I squirmed away from him, again. I told him this was moving too fast, again. He didn't ignore me this time. So I suggested that we watch a new movie. This time I chose a Chucky movie. Either he would get scared and give me an out, or I'd pretend to be scared and make the exit for myself.
If I knew how he'd actually react, I might not have taken this measure. The moment the movie started, Ben was immobilized. He had stopped trying to molest my bellybutton. All he did was apply a nervous death-grip the arm of the sofa. I asked if he was OK, but he insisted he was fine. He was not fine however, and after the first onscreen murder I looked over to see tears rolling down his cheeks.
This was my moment. It was either act like a cold-hard bitch, or continue being assaulted. I asked incredulously, "ARE YOU CRYING??" He nodded and started his whining baby-talk, but he didn't follow me as I leapt from the couch, called him a sissy, and flung the front door open. I quickly walked to my car. My brain had second thoughts, but I turned the key in the ignition. I legitimately wanted things to work with Ben. I would've been mommy. Whatever. But he didn't ask for consent at any point and was overly-pushy about everything he wanted.
While I felt bad about doing that to Ben, and piling an unneeded insult on top of it... I felt much more delight than despair. This situation was headed for a place that I didn't want it to go, and I was able to scratch and claw my way back to freedom. The bellybutton boy had unveiled his Achilles heel as a silly talking point, and I thanked my lucky stars that I was able to use that to my advantage. He could've flown into a rage over it, but he didn't. The guardian angel on my shoulder was working overtime on that day, I have no doubts about that. Looking back, should I have called the cops and reported him? Probably. Instead, I just thanked my lucky stars and tried to move past it in my own way...
You'd think that would be the end of this tale, but there was a follow-up to the bad date. Remember when I mentioned that Ben was close to his mother? Well, she charged into battle in defense of her little bellybutton man... I answered the first time she called. I wouldn't make that mistake again. She accused me of abusing her special boy, she threatened me with everything from death to lawsuits, she slung every curse under the sun at me. After 5 minutes, I realized I was trying to talk sense into a lunatic and blocked her number.
Bellybutton matriarch wasn't done yet though... I would get sporadic VOIP calls for weeks afterwards. She contacted my job to report me. She attempted to harass MY mom and every other contact she could find. I suppose that's the unfortunate part of social media. I explained to everyone what had happened and they all agreed that she was completely unhinged. Luckily, it seemed like her harassment was confined to the internet. I went dark for a month, and I guess she found a new target. Ben wouldn't have trouble getting more dates, even if he was a certified navel-gazer.
It was at this point that I swore off of Tinder for the first time. That wouldn't stop me from meeting up with maniacs though. My therapist says that I demonstrate a concerning amount of thrill-seeking behavior, and that these encounters are a manifestation of that. While I don't disagree 100%, I still think I overanalyze and avoid uncertainty in a lot of other areas of my life. Maybe the comments will let me know how they feel about that diagnosis?
Speaking of therapy... In hindsight, I can absolutely see how that insane woman could've produced a self-absorbed, baby-talking dunderhead. If you look at it through that frame? Then the tale of Ben the bellybutton boy takes on a much more depressing tone. He's like a modern-day Frankenstein... but he does still bear some responsibility for his actions. At least, that's what I tell myself when I start feeling guilty.
I did manage to stay off Tinder for a while, but in our next installment we are headed to Craigslist for a real treat. Be afraid. Those are tales for another day though... Thanks to ReddX if he reads this. Please subscribe to him on YouTube if ya haven't. I'll see you again next time my little Tinderlings.
-Dawn
TL;DR Lunatic lugnut baby-talks my bellybutton with his fish-lips.

“MOM!” I screamed till my lungs held no air and my throat bled, I raced across the field and grasped the sheet metal roof with my entire palm, cutting my flesh and shredding my skin against the hot sharp edges. I pulled with all my might, raising the roof barely an inch before I collapsed in tears and reached for my moms hand. Her eyes were cloudy and tears ran down her face. “Its ok my son, its all gonna be ok, you need to find your father now” I nodded and wrapped my arms around her head “Ill be right back mama, dad can get this off of you, im sure of it” A jeep raced by and stopped with a screech as the tires left small skids along the tarmac, the base captain stood up from the drivers seat and screamed to me “Lets go! We gotta get you outta here” I leapt into the back sat and clung to the pole, standing atop the back seat as the captain slammed his foot against the pedal and raced across the runway. “No good on the escape cap, I gotta get my dad, my moms trapped under the barracks” He looked back at me for a second and I looked down to him, my hair flowing in the wind and sweat pouring down, mixing with the blood that ran down my cheek. “Good god kid how are you even standing right now?” I veered and scanned the horizon, my eyes falling upon a set of distant lights dancing across the sky. I pointed up to the darker of the two massive vehicles that were locked in mid air combat “Up there, thats dads machine, whos he fighting?” The base captain looked up and leaned forward squinting his eyes and falling silent as he did. He stopped the jeep and sat there, mouth open, eyes glued to the sky. I shook him and repeated the question. “Yo, theres no time for this, who is that?” The captain shook his head and spoke calmly “Theres plenty of time kid, none of us are surviving this…here” He reached down and grabbed a folder from the passenger glovebox, the wind flipping the top as he handed me the bundle of papers. I flipped through until I recognized a file photo. It was almost the exact same design as my fathers machine, the most powerful in the world, but it was darker, and there had been a skull painted on the visor of the mechs gigantic head. It held a long flat edged blade and from the look of the picture, it was taken only seconds before the gory demise of whoever took it. “So the reapers made his way to american shores. So what? This changes nothing. Dad can take him” I leapt out of the jeep and made a beeline for the nearest hangar as the captain shouted from behind me “Hey kid! Get back here, what the hell do you think youre doing?” I barreled into the hangar doors, taking no time to feel the pain my shoulder was now in from having smacked the thick metal door. I wrenched with all my might and threw open the rolling entrance shutter. The lights flickered on as the eyes of my own machine stared back at me, offline and still in desparate need of repair “Im getting in, no time for chitchat captain I need you to give me startup” He shook his head as he leapt out of the jeep and walked toward me “Youre only 11, getting in that machine could kill you, or worse it could actually start up and become a big ass metal coffin. Do you think your parents would want that?” I spoke under my breath for a moment “Better a metal coffin covered in weapons then a wooden one covered in bullshit” He huffed at me “God where do you get this nerve…Oh wait…right…son of the admiral…Alright screw it, were dead either way, get up in the cockpit” I smiled at him and pulled myself into the chest high compartment, sitting in the seat and buckling the main cross belt. “Strapped in captain, starting sequence, can you disconnect me?” He nodded and sprinted around the back of the machines tall legs, pulling the various diagnostic cables and wrenching the stilts from its knees. I looked at the gaff tape I had put inside, following the sequence I had mapped out when i first got the machine, switching the core on and letting the fans spin up. The captain yelled over the noise as the machine whirred to life and stood up. I heard his voice come through the internal speakers “Damn, guess your repairs actually got somewhere. Listen, your internal batteries only good for about 15 minutes, get your mom and then swing back here, if you want any semblance of a chance then youre gonna need a rechar-” I pushed the gears forward and exploded out of the hangar, banking right and hitting the air brakes. The machine flipped forward and threw the wings into gear, sending me rocketing across the tarmac, now 100 tons heavier and 2000 times stronger. I slid to a stop next to my home barracks and knelt down, letting the scanners pinpoint my mother and allowing the hydraulics ample time to adjust before gently grabbing the roof of the building, and pulling up slowly. The captains jeep screeched to a halt next to me as he raced from the car and knelt down beside my mother. He inspected her body for a moment before falling to his knees entirely. I threw the roof and opened the hatchway, launching out of the cockpit and hitting the ground hard next to them. “Shes ok right?” The captain shook his head and put his hand on my shoulder, the smoke stung my eyes as the various fires filled the air with toxic fumes. “There wouldnt have been anything to do, she took too much force from the collapse, im sorry” I shook my head as tears flowed from my eyes “Shes just fucking with us. Mom! Wake up! Youre funny like this but nows not the time weve gotta go and help dad” I shook her shoulders, first gently, then more forcefully as I tried to wake her. I flipped her and her glossy lifeless eyes stared at the sky, still crying. “Shes gone kid, im so sorry” I let out a sob as I knelt down and put my head on her chest “Its not your fault, its mine, I shouldnt have left her, we should have never been attacked” He put a hand on my shoulder and gently rubbed my back “I should have been more aware, im the captain here, its my job to be aware” I rose and gently put my palm over her eyes, closing them with my hand and taking a deep breath through stifled sobs. “You do your best, all the time, its why we respect you. I need you to watch after my mom now, I need to go help dad make sure this doesnt happen to anyone else” He stood up and put his hands up, pushing me back softly and speaking in a low tone “No way kid, you need to grieve, i cant let you back in there in the condition youre in, Ill pilot, or ill call reinforcements, youll be no match” I smiled and moved past him “Id rather bite it in the sky with my dad then sit here and stare at my mom, I cant idle captain” He nodded and bit his lip in thought “Ok…ok…then maybe I can help better. Here, face me” I turned toward him and took a deep breath “We dont have time for this man come o-” He yelled “Face me soldier” I turned fully and stood at attention, my face inquisitive “Ok, ok, what” He brought his hand up to his torso “Ensign Rath, repeat after me and follow suit” I brought my hand up to my own torso and made a fist just as he did “Yes sir” He smiled wide and spoke with authority “I, Ensign Rath” I nodded and repeated “I Ensign Rath” “Accept the rank of Lieutenant O3” I smiled wide and nodded “Accept the rank of Lieutenant O3” He nodded and continued “And vow to use the weapons this rank has been assigned to take on the greatest of threats” The plan clicked in my mind and I continued to follow suit “And vow to use the weapons this rank has been assigned to take on the greatest of threats” As I finished he saluted me and spoke solemnly “It is with great honor and harrowing guilt that I now present you the rank of Lieutenant O3 in the united states naval defense office. I present you with temporary access to the associated weapons in upgrades, and I now release you into the arms of whichever god you so worship, Suit up, and fight like the warrior spirits that have fallen before you” I shook his hand and nodded, feeling pride replace my guilt as I saluted and turned toward my machine. I leapt into the cockpit and stood tall, the captains voice came over my internal speaker “Im heading to valhalla, Hit the skies and get in the fight, ill send a support pack in 2 minutes with 2 hours of extended run time and all the other things youll need to throw down alongside your father. This bases continued operation now relies on the two of you, I know youve had limited training, and some of the controls might even be too far for you to operate properly, but youre a warrior now” I took off into the air, engaging my thrusters and cutting through the clouds like a fiery razor. As rain hit my screen and the distant clap of thunder rolled through, I scanned the surroundings for my father and his machine. I didnt have to look long till he barreled into me while recovering from a glancing blow. “RATH WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING UP HERE” My fathers booming voice shook my brain and rattled my core “Im here to support” He raised his shield and deflected another swing from the reaper, filling the sky with sparks as the flat blade cut across his defense “Get out of here now, where is your mother?” I fell silent as he grabbed my machine with his own and jetted away “Rath! Answer me, why isnt she watc-” I heard him realize, I could feel his heart sink as we stopped in the midst of an anvil cloud, and i could barely see his form in front of me. When a pilot takes his hands off the controls, the machine typically centers its arms to avoid unintended movement, and I could only see the silhouette of his wings as a deep breath came over my intercom “Im so sorry my son, I should have been down there” I shook my head and spoke softly “Then wed all be dead pops, just like the captain you were doing your job as best as you could. Weve got all the time in the world to mourn later, but right now weve gotta make sure this bastard cant pave the way for his friends” I felt the support pack collide with my machine and the cockpit lit up bright as I watched my uptime increase “You make a fair point son, alright, normally id tell you to hit the ground but today I suppose we'll make an exception. Did you receive proper clearance?” The packs armor crawled along my frame and locked in, covering the various dents and scrapes that had been so characteristic of my mech. The improved wings swung into place and I heard the lift fans spin to max. I moved my throttles forward and emerged from the cloud, the full shroud of my machine now dispersed and the new world open to me. “0-3 lieutenant Rath reporting for duty sir, happy to serve alongside you” He spoke calmly “Congratulations my son, your mother would be beyond proud” I reached behind me and remove the tall mace that came standard with almost all lieutenant support packages, but as the flat bulky blade came into view, I noticed a strange sigil on the shielding of the weapon. “Hey dad, any clue what this thing is?” I turned the mace toward him and he flew close “A gift from your mother, you werent supposed to see it for several years but it seems she finished it early. It was a sort of bug that used to be all over the place around here…called a butterfly. You loved them as a baby” I nodded and smiled “Ok, I wanna use this gift for a long time, you think we can beat this guy?” He huffed “Me and you? Were gonna turn him into a monument and stick his armor on display for the world to see” The sky split with lightning as the reaper crossed our paths and came to a stop just a few hundred yards away. As his machines deadly red eyes glowed antithesis to the bright morning sky, a foreign voice filled my cockpit. It held a thick baltic accent, and I knew it could only belong to one man. “You armor is shiny, new, you are young, inexperienced. I let you live, you escape, you till your friends, I kill you later, once you make others fear me” When I had built my machine, I had done so from scratch. I had added and removed things I felt would make me stronger then others, and while I was no heavier due to improved armor, I had still clocked in as the fastest machine in history. The rotors in my arms couldnt survive more then a few hits, the joints in my wrist werent durable enough to deliver full power trikes, but the engines that drove me could surpass all known aircraft and every recorded vehicle in land or air. “Come kill me now, I wanna see your face when I cut your armor in two” He grunted loudly and screamed at me as he flashed across the sky, drawing his blade and splitting the sunlight with speed. I held still and took a deep breath, before swinging, making contact with his arm and spinning mid air. I watched as the skull icon shattered beneath my mace and the sword glanced well below my feet. My father followd the strike with his own mace and drove his engines forward, propelling them both back into the lower sky. I tailed close behind, remembering the eyes of my mother as life escaped her body. With tears in my eye I screamed back “Youl pay today, and youll go broke!” I swung again and again as my father drove the two mechs faster and faster. I pulled the head from the reaper as my father pummeled it. I held it by a braid of cables and met my father in the air over and over. We blocked blows and chipped away, moving faster and faster as my arms grew sore and my voice grew hoarse.I felt my fathers full strength meet my own as we punched at the same time. My mechanical fist shattered inside the reapers torso and I heard a scream as his comms went silent. We watched together as his armor fell from the sky and exploded upon impact, sending a shockwave across the surface as the sound of the boom finally reached us. “Son, take her in for a landing, I know that seemed quick but youre most likely nearing your suits limit” I looked at my counter and noticed a dark red second screen, I had 1 minute and 45 seconds so I turned the engines off and entered a freefall, plummeting toward the earth before pulling them full plast and hovering just above the bases concrete landing pads. I watched my father gracefully swing downward and rocket toward the ground, spinning his feet once he hit the grass and disengaging his wings. His machine came to a halt just a few feet from his designated hanger and I dropped my own armor the ground, kneeling and leaping from the cockpit as i did so. I collapsed as I hit the pavement and my father came running over. He caught me before I could hit the ground and held me up by my arm. He was bloodier then I was but still moving with unparalleled strength. I coughed as he helped me hobble toward the runway before the captain parked next to us in his jeep and helped get me into the seat. My father sat in the passenger seat and leaned his head back, closing his eyes as I did the same. “You did good today son, get some rest and well take care of everything, youre too young for all of this, I'm so sorry” I took a deep breath and curled up in the back seat “Me too dad…me too”

Hamburger SV 1 - 3 VfB Stuttgart

Hamburg scorers: Sonny Kittel (6')
Stuttgart scorers: Enzo Millot (48', 64'), Silas Katompa Mvump (90+6')
Aggregate score: Hamburg 1-6 Stuttgart
Venue: Volksparkstadion, Hamburg, Germany
Referee: Bastian Dankert
Hamburger SV:

Starting XI	Notes	Subs	Notes
Daniel Heuer Fernandes		Matheo Raab
Miro Muheim	65'	William Mikelbrencis	69' 84'
Sebastian Schonlau	90+4'	Valon Zumberi
Javi Montero	72'	Nicolas Kisilowski
Moritz Heyer	69'	Ogechika Heil
Ludovit Reis		Elijah Krahn
Jonas Meffert	67'	Filip Bilbija	67' 68'
Sonny Kittel	6' 65'	Tom Sanne
Jean-Luc Dompé		Ransford-Yeboah Königsdörffer	72'
Robert Glatzel
Bakery Jatta

Manager: Tim Walter (Germany)
VfB Stuttgart:

Starting XI	Notes	Subs	Notes
Florian Müller		Dennis Seimen
Borna Sosa	65' 67'	Pascal Stenzel
Hiroki Ito		Dan-Axel Zagadou	46'
Waldemar Anton		Tanguy Coulibaly
Konstantinos Mavropanos	25' 46'	Nikolas Nartey	67'
Chris Führich	65'	Silas Katompa Mvumpa	82' 90+6'
Wataru Endo		Tiago Tomás	67' 90+3'
Atakan Karazor	90+5'	Luca Pfeiffer	67'
Josha Vagnoman	82'	Lilian Egloff
Enzo Millot	48' 64' 67'
Serhou Guirassy	58' 67'

Manager: Sebastian Hoeneß (Germany)
MATCH EVENTS
1': We're off!
4': Dompé puts a free kick on target, Müller overshoots with his positioning and has to reach back in the other direction to push it over
6': GOAL HAMBURG!! Sonny Kittel fires a rocket from distance and puts it in off the inside of the far post!! What a shot, and exactly the thing this fixture needed! Game on!!
7': Stuttgart nearly undo the damage right after kickoff! Führich gets a long pass over the top and gets around the defense! But his shot goes just wide of the near post, where Heuer Fernandes was waiting.
17': Goal Stuttgart! Endo crosses to Serhou Guirassy who puts in a cheeky backheel into the far corner!! It seems to go in in slow motion! But wait.... it's crossed out!! Offside in the buildup!
25': Konstantinos Mavropanos pushes down Kittel
29': Anton's header bounces wide.
38': Guirassy's free kick goes over the crossbar.
40': Glatzel fires from outside the box, puts it a few yards wide.
45+1': Müller just barely swats away the ball! His defense clears it away! Jatta was lurking at the far post to tap it in!
HT Hamburger SV 1-0 VfB Stuttgart [1-3 on agg.] Hamburg with an early goal to give themselves a hope but they still need two more to give themselves a chance and Stuttgart has adjusted from their bad start.
46': Stuttgart substitution: Dan-Axel Zagadou on for Konstantinos Mavrapanos
46': We're back!
48': GOAL STUTTGART!! Guirassy makes the cross to Enzo Millot who fires low, Heuer Fernandes gets a trailing foot to it but only deflects into the roof of the net!
58': Serhou Guirassy carded for holding onto the ball and not letting Hamburg take a free kick
64': GOAL STUTTGART!! Enzo Millot capitalizes on a terrible mistake!! Heuer Fernandes whifts on his kick and lets Millot nick the ball from him and Millot puts it away!
64': Huge shoving match between the two sides!! What is going on?
65': Chris Führich, Miro Muheim, Sonny Kittel and Borna Sosa all carded
66': Stuttgart triple sub: Luca Pfeiffer, Nikolas Nartey and Tiago Tomás on for Enzo Millot, Borna Sosa and Serhou Guirassy
67': Hamburg substitution: Filip Bilbija on for Jonas Meffert
68': Filip Bilbija picks up a card for a bad foul right after coming on
69': Hamburg substitution: William Mikelbrencis on for Moritz Heyer
72': Hamburg substitution: Ransford-Yeboah Königsdörffer on for Javi Montero
74': Glatzel swings on a cross and puts it wide of the far post.
76': Königsdörffer's low header towards the near post punched away!
82': Stuttgart substitution: Silas Katompa Mvumpa on for Josha Vagnoman
84': William Mikelbrencis carded for a late sliding challenge
84': Silas's shot pushed away, Pfeiffer's flying attempt on the rebound sliced high and wide
87': Bilbija with a bad high shot
88': Königsdörffer chips it over the keeper! But not with enough pace, Ito is back in time and clears it away, plus it might have been going wide anyway.
88': Jatta's header on the corner kicks goes over.
90+3': Tiago Tomás carded for a studs-up challenge
90+4': Sebastian Schonlau pulls on Tomás's shirt
90+5': Atakan Karazor carded for a late sliding challenge
90+6': GOAL STUTTGART!! Silas Katompa Mvumpa dribbles around everyone and hits the net!
FT Hamburger SV 1-3 VfB Stuttgart [1-6 on agg.] For the first half there was hope but it will be Stuttgart and not Hamburg playing in next season's Bundesliga