Hey guys, first time replacing a roof and its been a huge learning experience this past week.
The latest roofer i am considering uses Certainteed products.
My roof is 2,200 sq ft.
Here is the detailed quote for those interested: https://ibb.co/Ny1X2R3
He has given me a list of upgrades which may or may not be needed. So i'm looking for some opinions on the quote and which upgrades may be worth the extra money.
1) Certainteed Roof Runner, or +$700 for CT Diamond Deck.
2) 3 tab for ridge caps (quote doesnt seem to note which ones), or +$800 for Cedar Crest, or +$400 for Shadow Ridge.
He says Shadow Ridge are the exact same as 3 tabs but have a slightly different coloration to make them pop. He said if i do want to upgrade these i should go Cedar Crest or stick with 3 tab.
3) Certainteed Landmark or +$1300 for Landmark Pro.
4) Certainteed 3 star warranty, or 5 star warranty $350.
Interesting to note this quote doesn't include CertainTeed's Ridge Vents which similar quotes from other companies did. I'm waiting to hear back if he wants an upcharge on those also.
Also quote says 4 nails per shingle, where as other quotes i have been given apply 6 nails per shingle. What is the standard?
For comparison, if you'd like to compare it to another quote i have.. this is the other company i am considering which is a similar price and includes the ridge vents:
https://old.reddit.com/Roofing/comments/13r1q44/i_feel_like_im_trying_to_read_egyptian/
Notes on this quote from that previous post are that:
1) XT25 ridge caps are supposedly trash
2) it includes the ridge vents which is nice
3) only 3 years labor warranty vs 5 on this new quote
4) uses 6 nails instead of 4
5) downpayment is ridiculously HUGE.

A pedicure from JC Nails
although a simple thing
is such a pleasure I declare
it makes me want to sing.
 
I sit down for a good hot soak.
The chair begins to knead.
The nail tech smiles nicely
and asks how to proceed.
 
I give her nail polish
the color burgundy
and tell her everything I want
not looking at the fee.
 
The cheese grater does tickle
but it takes away the grime.
A boiling wax may burn a bit
and yet still so sublime.
 
She cuts the nails precisely
and polishes with care.
I sit back while relaxing
breathing floral scented air.
 
I thank her for her service.
She sits me down to dry.
I pen this little poem and pay
and then I say goodbye.
https://www.reddit.com/OCPoetry/comments/13w2skb/a_scent/jm9remh?utm_source=share&utm_medium=android_app&utm_name=androidcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button
https://www.reddit.com/OCPoetry/comments/13w2bct/fountain_of_youth/jm9scjj?utm_source=share&utm_medium=android_app&utm_name=androidcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button

I've seen ultraviolet sensative nail polish before, I changes coulours when exposed to UV light. but it's always 2 colours, Is it possible for a polish to go from clear indoors, to coloured outside in uv light? Thanks sm 💖

I noticed after the last update, the nail option in CAS for the long/medium coffin nails in the basic color swatches is missing. Am I going crazy? That was the only nail shape I’d use on my sims.

Hey guys I never post on here but my best friend encouraged me to do so to help other people who are going through their own wart saga hell.
I have been in a 2.5 month battle, starting when I noticed a little bump on my finger and because I was in a stressed/anxious mood I picked it off with my finger nail. NEVER DO THIS IF YOU CAN STOP YOURSELF.
Obvi it got worse and spread, I tried the home treatments of over the counter cryofreeze (if you do this- its important to duct or medical tape the skin all around the wart, leaving only the small wart exposed to the cryofreeze applicator and then using WAY more times than one application.
bc those sh*tty drug store cryofreeze things don't work as directed (you need much longemore frequent applications to even hope to try to kill the wart) and the freeze goes everywhere bc they make the hole the size of a small city. I learned this the hard way as it created a blister next to the wart from cryo-freezing which - yup you guessed it- turned into evil cousin wart part 2.
​
I finally cracked around a month and went to a med spa- if you must go to a Dr go to a dermatologist/wart specialist. Med spas and general practicioners aren't great with intuitive medicine and do a "step one for everyone do x, step 2 do y" so after $200 I got a laser treatment on just ONE of the two warts- they said the other was gone (Lies!) and in a matter of days my hand now had a dime-size blister where a small dot was. the blister fell off to expose that little F*Cker still underneath.
​
I went back and complained (obvi) and so they silver nitrate and electrocauterized, but-again- just the one wart not both. Now this did kill the wart but his cousin was becoming large and in charge and within a few weeks ressurrected the OG wart like Jesus on Easter
​
I learned: ok silver nitrate works- But I'd rather just order the silver nitrate sticks myself. 75% is the highest you can get from medical supply companies. I recommend: https://medexsupply.com/silver-nitrate-wood-applicator-sticks-6-vial-100-vl/?sku=HS-1126994&gclid=CjwKCAjwvdajBhBEEiwAeMh1UwmtJrR9IfEjrZZU0RuhxPgWH5lXKrYyUE43aO8_g4E55XJv00joQhoCPTMQAvD_BwE
this will stain surfaces so put down a plastic bag/barrier to any countertops and also cover any of the skin that is not wart with vaseline so it wont discolor the skin. After applying the silver nitrate leave it alone and dry for 48 hours minimum- this can be hard if you're OCD like me i realize but bandage it and promise to give yourself a future reward if you don't pick or peek.
After 48 hours the dried black silver nitrate will start to peel up and you should be able to remove the wart with it-
​
attached is a photo of the successful removal of wart #1 (still waiting on the resurrected wart to be ready to remove)
​
I hope this is helpful and my heart goes out to anyone battling this terrible effing disease that is hpv/ warts right now
​
Best Regards,
the Battlefield surgeon

We all know white nail polish is taking a break until Scumdevil retires the color, but what’s worse (and maybe it’s just me), every time I say “dude” now, I just hear Timmy and his pathetic, deflecting version of “dUUde” in my head. Whether it’s him on the phone with Lisa, repeating the word even after she corrected him, or talking to Lala and Ariana about not leaving the Labor Day party to comfort Ariana, it’s all so cringey. It’s even worse when it’s the exhausted, annoying “duuuude”, like he’s just soooo put out having to remember what lie he told months ago to cover his tracks and/or justify his shitty actions. What else has he ruined for you?

Sometimes when you look into the mirror, the mirror looks back.
William Bailey's forehead shattered the mirror like a sledgehammer. The last thing he remembered before he blacked out was the feeling that he was falling through the mirror. Sub-cranial hematoma, a concussion, maybe even a cracked skull--that had to be the reason for the strange feeling. The mirror was mounted on the wall just to the right of the bar, four feet tall by about three feet wide. As consciousness slipped away, common sense and his strong belief in the rational world told him that he couldn't fall through the mirror. He must have bounced his head off the wall and be falling toward the floor.
It seemed like just a second or two before William's eyes popped open. He lay on his back, on the hard wood floor of Fausto's, with Johnny Davis towering over him. Big Johnny probably wanted to finish him off, maybe kill him, and finally end their twenty-year-old feud. Either Big Johnny Davis and the ceiling lights above him were spinning, or William's head was spinning, but either way something wasn't right.
He raised his head and looked to his left, toward the bar. Except the bar wasn't there. Instead, he was staring at the bathrooms. That didn't make sense. It must be his brain that had gotten spun around. William turned his head and peered over his size-ten wingtips at the busted mirror. The wooden frame and most of the glass still clung to the wall, the rest sat broken on the ground. The bar had to be on his left. He looked again, and still saw the bathrooms. A brain bruise, maybe some fluid pressure building up might be the cause of it.
"Get up!" Big Johnny Davis said.
William looked up at him. Johnny stood behind him, just beyond his shoulders. Perfect place for him to stomp my head into the plank floor. Except Johnny Davis was holding out his hand.
"Come on, we've got to get out of here."
Davis looked scared. It was the first time William Bailey could ever remember Johnny Davis looking scared. William had always been scared of Big Johnny, but Big Johnny wasn't scared of anything or anyone.
Police sirens wailed in the distance.
Johnny glanced over his shoulder. William craned his neck to look where Johnny was looking, saw he was staring at the front door like a man terrified something bad was going to come through it. Big Johnny looked down at him again and pumped his hand. "Come on, get up. They'll be here any second."
"Who?" William asked. "Who'll be--" But before he finished, Big Johnny Davis reached down, grabbed him by both arms, and jerked him to his feet.
As he was dragged toward the door by the only man in town who truly hated him, William glanced up and saw the rusted metal sign nailed above the door. He had to have a concussion, probably severe; that had to be it, because the letters on the sign were backward. It said TUO.
As Johnny Davis pulled him out the door, William heard tires skid on the pavement.
"Where's your car?" Johnny asked.
William twisted away from the big man's grip, then turned to his left. "In the alley." He started to run, still not sure exactly what he was running from.
Behind him, Big John shouted, "The alley's over here."
William kept running but turned his head back toward Johnny. "I know where the alley--"
Something hit him across the midsection and toppled him to the ground. He got his hands up just in time to break his fall and managed to keep his head from slamming into the sidewalk. When he looked up he saw a shopping cart tumbled onto its side.
Once again, William found himself lying flat on his back, this time amid the spilled contents of the cart. It had been filled with junk: paper bags full of dirty clothes, canned food, bags of potato chips, a diamond shaped, orange road sign, and other trash that looked like it had been collected from back alley garbage bins.
The homeless man who'd been pushing the cart was scrawny, and wafer thin. His skin was the color of old shoe leather, and he wore a long gray beard, tangled and matted with food and bits of filth. He was sprawled on the ground next to his cart, half sitting up, staring at William with his bright blue eyes.
Car doors slammed, men shouted.
"You better get going," the homeless man said, as he cocked his head. "The police after you?"
Police!
Before William could assure the old man that the police weren't after him--he was a respected businessman and family man--someone behind him grabbed him under both arms and pulled him to his feet. William turned and found himself staring into the face of Johnny Davis. "The alley's that way," Johnny said, pointing to the other side of Fausto's. With one hand gripping William's jacket, Johnny dashed across the front of the bar toward the alley. The alley--right there, plain as day--on the other side of Fausto's, right where it shouldn't be, where it couldn't be. William had been here a thousand times. As you stepped out of the bar, the alley was on the left, Brockton's Ace Hardware on the right. Now everything was mixed up and in the wrong place.
Johnny Davis turned down the alley, dragging William behind him. After just a few steps, a spotlight flashed in front of them.
"Stop!" a voice commanded. "Get on the ground."
William couldn't see because Johnny was in his way. "Who's that yelling?" he asked.
Big Johnny stopped and William plowed into his back.
"Get on the ground," the voice boomed again.
William poked his head out from behind Johnny Davis's back. The blinding white light was in his face. He couldn't see a thing.
POP! POP! POP!
Gunshots.
Big Johnny sagged, then crashed to his knees. Instinctively, William bent forward and grabbed hold of Johnny. "What's the matter?"
More pops.
Johnny's big hand reached out and shoved William back toward the street. "Back door," he wheezed, then plunged forward onto his face.
William stood alone. Behind the white spotlight he saw blue police lights flashing. He was totally exposed.
POP! POP!
He saw flashes--little yellow spurts of flame--as something tugged at his jacket.
William had said "back door." What back door? Fausto's had a back door, but it didn't lead anywhere except to the open space behind the building used for trash and deliveries. Twenty feet of asphalt between the bar and the back of the building on the next block. William had parked his car at the end of the alley, but the police cars--or whatever they were--had the alley blocked off. The building behind Fausto's also had an alley that ran alongside it, but the owner had closed it off to keep the bums out. He'd put up a gate, padlocked it, and topped it with razor wire. It was a dead end.
Two more pops. Dead end or not it was better than standing here and getting shot. William turned and ran. He burst through the front door of Fausto's, dashed through the bar, past the shattered mirror, hit the back door at a dead run, and was outside behind the bar within seconds.
He could see the tail end of his car sticking out from the corner of the building, but with the cops blocking the alley, his car was useless to him. William glanced across the open space to the alley that ran next to the other building. The gate, the padlock, the razor wire--all still in place. To his right an overflowing garbage dumpster sat beside the back of Fausto's, jammed against the fire ladder.
The fire ladder.
An iron ladder bolted to the cinderblock wall.
William looked up. The top of the ladder was lost in shadow, but he knew it went up two stories to the roof. Last summer, when the toilet had stopped up, he'd come out back to take a leak and had stood behind the dumpster, peeing against the wall like a kid, one hand draped over the bottom rung of the ladder.
He slipped behind the dumpster. The smell made him gag. The bottom of the ladder was four feet from the ground. William reached up as high as he could, grabbed hold of the third rung, then hauled himself up.
Through the partially open back door came the sounds of heavy feet pounding on the hard wood floor of the bar.
Halfway up the ladder, he was exhausted--and scared. Shaking, he white-knuckled the ladder. Being more than ten feet off the ground terrified him. He needed a break, just a second or two to catch his breath. There was enough moonlight so he could see into one of the second story windows. Inside, junk was piled everywhere. Old barstools, a busted jukebox, furniture stacked almost to the ceiling. Years ago, old man Fausto lived on the second floor, but Jake, who'd bought the place from the old man and had decided to keep the name, used it for storage.
Below him, William heard the back door thrown open so hard it banged against the wall. He scrambled up until he reached the top of the ladder, then hoisted himself over the edge of the roof. Down on the ground a voice shouted, "There he is, up there."
Another gunshot. What the hell was going on?
The unmistakable sound of feet--fast feet, in shape feet, boot shod feet--scurrying up the ladder. Standing on the tar and pebble roof, William glanced around for something he could use as a weapon, shocked he was even thinking of such a thing. A five gallon plastic bucket was all there was. It stood upright, filled with rainwater. He picked it up and peered over the edge. A uniformed policeman was three quarters of the way up the ladder. Two more cops were right behind him.
William looked at the heavy bucket in his hands, thought about just dumping the water onto them but knew it wouldn't stop them. There was only one way to stop them, and that was to knock them off the ladder. He thought about warning them, maybe trying to scare them away. But they were cops. You couldn't scare them away.
So why had they shot Johnny Davis, and why were they shooting at him?
The first officer looked up and saw William staring down at him with the bucket in his hands. Their eyes locked for just a second and the cop stopped. In those eyes that stared back at him, William saw an almost maniacal determination that sent a shiver down his spine. The officer held his grip on the ladder with his right hand while his left dropped to the pistol resting in his gleaming leather holster. In one smooth motion he drew his gun and raised it toward William.
William Bailey tossed the bucket down the ladder. A shot rang out an instant before the heavy bucket thudded into the cop's head. Like a gruesome traffic accident happening before his eyes, William couldn't help but watch as the policeman fell, taking his two partners down with him. The last thing William saw before he turned away was a jumbled heap of black uniforms resting on the concrete below the ladder.
* * *
Hiding in the shadow of a telephone booth, thinking. Home. He had to get home. Had to get back to Marge and the kids. Maybe somehow he could explain what had happened. Vincent, his attorney, he would know what to do--maybe--but he was a civil lawyer not a criminal attorney. He wrote contracts and did personal injury on the side; he didn't get people out of jail who'd killed a cop by dropping a bucket of water on his head and knocking him and his buddies off the side of a building.
As the cab he'd been waiting for pulled up, William stepped out from the dark and climbed into the back seat.
The driver turned around. "Where to?"
William pulled the door shut. "Uptown. 1721 Audubon Court."
"Fare's gonna be about fifteen dollars. After dark, I gotta have the money up front."
"What?"
"Company policy." The cabbie shrugged. "A lot of drivers been getting stiffed."
William opened his wallet, pulled out a twenty and handed it across the seat. The driver took it and almost slipped it into his cash box, then took a second look at the bill. His face tightened. "What the hell is this?"
"Huh?"
With the bill stretched between his hands, the cabbie stared at it for a second then looked up at William. "You're either the dumbest counterfeiter who ever lived or you've been had."
"What you are talking about?"
The driver faced the bill toward William but didn't hand it back to him. "It's printed backwards."
William looked at the twenty-dollar bill in the man's hand. It looked like--it was--an almost brand new bill, nothing wrong with it as far as he could tell.
"Get out of my cab," the driver said.
William didn't know what the man was talking about but knew he didn't want to get out. This cab was his only way home. He reached for the twenty. "If you don't like that one I've got another--"
The driver pulled his hands away. "I ain't giving this back. I got to turn it in to the police." He dropped one hand behind his seat back, then came up clutching a pistol, an old German Luger by the looks of it, the muzzle aimed straight at William's face. "In fact, I bet they give me a reward if I bring you in with it."
William jerked the door handle and rolled out into the street. He sprang to his feet and ran, the driver's yells just background noise. Has everyone gone crazy or is it just me?
Home. He had to get home.
* * *
Rain. Driving, relentless rain. William was just two blocks from Fausto's. In two hours, that's as far as he'd gotten--one block an hour. Police cars prowled the neighborhood, shinning spotlights into every nook and cranny, lighting up every shadow. Everyone in Fausto's knew his name. He'd been going there three or four nights a week after work for years. The cabbie had his address. William had given it to him when he told the hack driver where to drop him.
Ten o'clock at night, with nowhere to go and no way to get there, William sat behind the closed Goodwill store, under an overhang that barely kept the rain off of him.
Huddled in the dark, head sunk between his knees, he hadn't heard anyone approach.
"You don't look so good."
Startled, William looked up, prepared to run again. It was the homeless man he'd knocked over outside the bar. The one with the shopping cart and the leathery skin. William relaxed a little. "Excuse me?"
The man pushed his cart closer. "You're not supposed to be here."
William looked around. "Why not?"
The old man grinned, half his teeth gone.
William found it nearly impossible to tell his age. The guy could be forty and maybe had lived a hard life, or perhaps he was a well-preserved seventy, pickled by a lifetime of booze. William waved him off, expecting a plea for money. "I can't help you."
The old man stopped just a few feet away. "Everything's out of place isn't it?" He had a strange lilting voice. Almost like an accent.
And he was right. Everything was out of place--from Johnny Davis to the cab driver--everything was wrong.
Strapped to the back of the old man's shopping cart was a plastic sign about the size of a loaf of bread. William recognized the sign, the words, the colors, the logo of a local supermarket chain, all were familiar to him, but the letters were backward, unreadable.
Rainwater ran down William's face. He pointed to the sign. "Why's it written like that?"
The old man looked at the sign then back at William. "Like what?" he said, then shuffled away behind his basket.
* * *
The rain came down even harder. William slouched in a darkened doorway across the street from Fausto's. Nothing made sense. Everything was messed up, backward, out of whack. Almost like this wasn't his home, like he was a stranger seeing it for the first time.
But that was crazy. He'd grown up here, gone to Brother Martin High School, dated Jenny Underhill who went to Cabrini, lost her to Johnny Davis, then got her back only to lose her again the first year of college to some kid who drove a Mustang. Two years later William married Marge at Saint Luke's. They had two kids.
This town was his home. He recognized it. He knew the people here, Big Johnny and Zeke, the bartender at Fausto's. But things were different, little things. John Davis for one. In trying to help him, the big man had gotten himself killed. That wasn't John Davis--at least not the one William Bailey had known since seventh grade. Everything looked the same but wasn't. Nothing was quite right.
But they knew him--or someone like him.
A strange sensation crept over him that made the hair on the back of his neck rise. Maybe he didn't belong here. Maybe everything wasn't as it appeared. Maybe this wasn't his home. But if that were true, then whose home was it? Another thought, even scarier seeped through his brain. If he was here, who was there--at his home?
Crazy.
William dropped his head into his hands. Just considering such nonsense was a waste of time. Yet, here he was scanning the street, thinking of going back inside Fausto's, back to that mirror.
Not much time to think about it. The bar closed at three AM and it was already two-thirty. When he'd left--run for his life with Big Johnny--most of the mirror was still in the frame hanging on the wall.
Something about that damned mirror.
But Fausto's was dangerous, so a couple of hours ago William had found another mirror. In the men's room of a twenty-four hour gas station. The Chevron on North Rampart.
He had approached it cautiously, afraid he was going mad. As he peered over the sink into the mirror, he saw what he always saw, his own reflection. Holding up his left hand, he looked at the image in the mirror, at the watch strapped to his wrist. He noticed that the man in the mirror wore his watch on his right hand. Just the opposite.
William stood in the gas station bathroom for twenty minutes before he worked up his nerve. Finally, he took a deep breath, leaned back, then slammed his forehead into the dirt-streaked mirror. The glass shattered and cut his head. Blood dribbled off the tip of his nose into the sink. His reflection stared out at him from the other side of the mirror, blood running down his face, too.
I have gone crazy!
So the gas station hadn't worked out. Ducking police cruisers, William had wandered the streets, his head reeling. What was he doing?
On the sidewalk, he found a sopping wet magazine that the wind had blown up against the side of a newspaper machine. The cover caught his eye. He picked it up. It was printed backwards, the letters reversed, words running right to left. The spine was on the right. As he flipped through the pages, he couldn't read a thing. Then William had an idea.
In the bathroom of an all night restaurant he held the wet magazine up to the mirror. Perfect. The reflected image was normal, spine on the left, words running left to right, all the letters printed correctly. He could read it clearly. But what did it mean?
Then he drove his head into that mirror. The glass cracked. Someone walked in, a skinny waiter wearing an apron. He stood gawking as William leaned over the sink with tears of pain filling his eyes.
The waiter looked at the broken mirror, then jabbed a finger at William's bloody forehead. "What the hell are you doing?"
"An accident," he mumbled, pressing his fingers against the fresh cut.
The waiter turned. "I'm calling the cops."
William Bailey ran.
Now he was huddled in the rain staring at Fausto's across the street. Because he had nowhere else to go.
He stood and walked toward Fausto's. When he was halfway across the street, a police car glided around the corner, headlights reflecting off the wet pavement. The cops in no hurry, just cruising. William forced himself to keep walking, not to run. One foot in front of the other. In the downpour, odds were that the cops wouldn't even recognize him.
But they did recognize him.
The police car slid to a stop as its high beams clicked on and its blue strobe lights started popping. Both front doors flew open.
Like a sinner seeking the sanctuary of a church, William ran straight for Fausto's door. As he burst inside, Zeke looked up from behind the bar. "William! What the hell are you doing here?"
He ignored the bartender, running right past him, eyes focused on the broken mirror and its busted frame hanging on the wall.
Zeke again, "The cops been looking all over for you. Say you killed two officers and--"
Behind him the front door banged against the wall. "Police!" a voice behind him commanded. "Stop."
But William didn't stop. He kept running--running straight for the mirror. Reflected in its fragmented pieces he saw two uniformed police officers behind him, heard their boots pounding on the wooden floor. Just ten feet separated him from the mirror. At full speed he took two strides then dove. He stretched his arms out overhead and tucked his chin into his chest as his feet left the floor.
He felt one hand hit wall and the other strike broken glass. Then his head hit. More glass cracked, more skin split.
Darkness.
* * *
William's eyes popped open. He was staring at the ceiling. Rough voices, even rougher hands. They rolled him over onto his stomach and jerked his arms behind his back. He felt cold steel on his wrists and heard the metallic ratcheting as the handcuffs tightened and bit into his skin.
He tilted his head up and rested his chin against the floor. Blood poured down the side of his face; he watched it pool on the floor then seep between the wooden planks. By rolling his eyes up he could just see the empty spot on the wall where the mirror had hung. Lying on the floor, three feet from his head, was the broken frame and the rest of the glass.
The two cops grabbed his arms and yanked him to his feet, sending waves of pain through his shoulders and wrists. As they spun him toward the door, one of the officers said, "You're under arrest."
"Why?" William asked.
The officer pressed his face into William's. "Murdering your family for starters."
"My...my family." William felt his stomach cinch and his bowels turn to ice. A thought he'd had earlier in the night echoed inside his head. If he was here, who was there--at his home.
As the cops dragged him across the floor, William glanced up and saw the rusted metal sign nailed above the door.
OUT.
He was home.

My theory: Kafka programmed MC for this adventure and she can do it again so MC will fight Nanook.
I only managed to catch that when I was listening closely to recorded footage on YouTube. It was when Kafka and Silver Wolf created body and placed Stellaron in it.
Kafka said to MC specifically "Listen:". It was in different color in the speech bubble and then her voice was slightly distorted for a sentence or two. Slightly mechanical, I would say. There was a slight pause in this distortion and then was again "Listen:" with next commands or "explanations".
Yes, "explanations. Some people would say that she sounds maternal and carrying, but she basically used on MC mind-control. She could just knock us out and said nothing and we would be taken by crew regardless. She instead used commands and half-explanations like she was just covering her track making sure that we would remember her in the end so we will follow next information about her. She speaks of choices and adventures but she basically programmed MC to expect these things and no question asked - go with strange people on a strange surreal journey regardless of our real opinion.
(There is hidden ending that MC is choosing to stay on Herta Space Station but that is easter egg - game over. So we basically don't have a choice. We are going on a crazy adventure.)
We know that Kafka has the ability to influence people - it was confirmed on Laofu with Cloud Knights that we needed to fight to get her into custody. She charmed them to fight for her.
Kafka as a character, is suspicious (next in the line is Elio and then Pom-Pom). We know that Stellaron Hunters have hidden agenda - you can check Stellaron on its pedestal in the first act and there will be a sentence about Stellaron hunters having a different goal that everyone likes to think. And our Stellaron is first one that they are giving in any state.
Until questioning by Fu Xuan I was hopeful that this whole Stellaron Hunter business with hunting Stellarons and us being Stellaron vessel is just an experiment if they can have new means to find hidden Stellarons (since on Jarilo-VI we somehow sensed it). Then Hunters will jump the train steal all sealed Stellarons and go their merry way. But then Kafka decided to drop a bomb on us that: will face the Nanook, and it's inventible.
In all crude manner, it seems to be that MC is a weapon to defeat Nannook. And this was not part of described adventures so I think Kafka will use mind-altering ability on us once again later on.
I am very curious about your opinions :)

I didn't expect to make one of these, but here we are. The last time we did a clues list for a non-Magic IP, I was barely familiar with the source material. Now I'm a little more familiar than last time, but there are still many details that I don't know. What I do know is that I'm looking forward to providing the clue results as they get spoiled. So, let's not waste any more time and get right to them!
Link to the clues below:
https://markrosewater.tumblr.com/post/718159296243859457/maros-the-lord-of-the-rings-teaser-before

• five different card types get the legendary supertype (Artifact, Creature, Land)
• a decently sized "legendary matters" theme (seen so far on Frodo Baggins and Delighted Halfling)
• new nonmana ward costs (Sauron, the Dark Lord, sacrifice a legendary artifact or legendary creature, Saruman of Many Colors, Discard an enchantment, instant, or sorcery card)
• a mechanic returns but now references a different creature type (Amass, but for Orcs)
• a card that makes a Smaug creature token
• two three-color and one four-color legendary creature to go along with the five-color one already previewed (Sauron, the Dark Lord, Grixis, Saruman of Many Colors, Esper, and Aragorn the Uniter, RGWU)
• a lot of one-of "creature type matters" cards (Fangorn, Tree-Shepherd, Treefolk)
• a mechanic returns that I had to fight tooth and nail to get into the set it premiered in
• a new creature type gets its own equip cost
• some counters in the set: burden (The One Ring), deathtouch, first strike, hope, indestructible, influence, lifelink, lore (Tom Bombadil), stun, verse, vigilance, and +1/+1 (Galadriel, Gift Giver)
• "Whenever you attack with Merry and another legendary creature," (Merry, Esquire of Rohan, draw a card)
• "Then create a Food token for each creature you control."
• "Remove an indestructible counter from Arwen:"
• "Copy any number of target instant and/or sorcery spells."
• "Whenever you draw a card during an opponent's turn, create a 1/1 blue Tentacle creature token."
• "Whenever a creature an opponent control dies, put a +1/+1 counter on Legolas."
• "Target opponent gains control of target Horse you control."
• "When this ability resolves for the third time this turn, Gimli fights up to one target creature you don't control." (Gimli, Mournful Avenger, who gets a +1/+1 counter every time another creature you control dies)
• "You may pay 0 rather than pay the equip cost of the first equip ability you activate during each of your turns."
• "Whenever you put one or more counters on Aragorn, put one of each of those kinds of counters on up to one other target creature."
• Legendary Creature – Avatar Demon
• Legendary Creature – Bird Noble
• Legendary Creature – Halfling Knight (Merry, Esquire of Rohan)
• Legendary Creature – Halfling Soldier (Pippin, Guard of the Citadel)
• Legendary Creature – Horse (Bill the Pony)
• Legendary Creature – Kraken
• Legendary Creature – Nymph
• Legendary Creature – Spirit Noble
• Legendary Creature – Spider Demon
• Legendary Creature – Wraith Noble (Witch-king of Angmar)
• "Birthday Escape"
• "Breaking of the Fellowship"
• "Fear, Fire, Foes!"
• "Grond, the Gatebreaker"
• "Horses of the Bruinen"
• "Lembas"
• "One Ring to Rule Them All"
• "Oliphaunt"
• "Second Breakfast"
• "There and Back Again"

As always, feel free to let me know if there is anything I've missed!

I've (26F) noticed for the last two weeks or so that the sides of my nails are turning orange. It's happening on both of my ring fingers and is maybe starting on my middle finger too.
When I looked it up, I mostly saw were other people's whole nail changed colors, but this is happening specifically on the sides of my nails.
I dont have any activity in my life that I think would cause this, ie wearing nail polish or touching colorful things/products.
Any opinions would be greatly appreciated!
https://imgur.com/gallery/Mz9qQo5

so I think these might be an MMA set as well! not sure what I can really do at home, too scared to go to the salon 😭

I’m not sure if this is the right place to share this.
It’s more of a rant that anything and just me needing to get my thoughts out and vent.
I used to run a small art based business. I was the artist and turned my work into products people could buy.
I was younger then and saw this through rose colored glasses. I did make decent money. My best and final year I grossed $187K but of course with cost of living, business and taxes I netted far less.
I’ve since stopped for various reasons, the main one being just burnt out from the work and the nail in the coffin was a horrible situation with an abusive partner and in laws.
It just broke me and I didn’t have the capacity to work anymore so the business faded away.
In hindsight, I was a slave to my business. It really took a toll on my mental health because it was my only source of income and as a sole proprietor I was the only one running and defending my business.
I had people always trying to start drama, people accusing others of copying each other, customers who try to start shit, the fight to remain relevant and keep up with trends etc.
I really hated it. It was a hostile environment to do business in and I couldn’t even focus on the creative side of the work like I liked.
I got to stay home everyday which was awesome and I worked on my own schedule so if I was ever feeling sick or needed a mental health day I could take it.
It’s part of the reason I started a business was for that flexibility. That and to run away from a toxic manager and workplace environment.
But that’s all gone now, both the good and the bad.
By the end, I was also losing followers daily and sales had been steadily dropping.
I’m going back to school for a degree that’s completely unrelated to art and creativity. It’s in healthcare which is very much necessary and overall pays well.
Some days I think about starting another business, but that was in my early 20’s and I feel so tired and weary now.
Not to mention my brain is sort of broken from the abuse and I can’t function how I used to.
Idk anymore. When I think of starting a new business it makes me feel so weary.
Maybe this is a temporary feeling because I still think about it from time to time. I did have some fun creating my own art and products.
Even then, who knows how long it’ll last and I would continually have to maintain it and keep making art in a schedule which I don’t like.
Since I stopped that business, I’ve ironically learned a lot more of entrepreneurship and the any options out there.
There are so unsexy business opportunities that would still make money but maybe not have the same level of maintenance required for an art business.
I’d love to continue having a full time job on top of any side hustles I want to start.
I never want to live with the anxiety of having a business be my sole source of income ever again.
Anyways these are my thoughts. I just needed to get my feelings out somewhere…

Girls: Eva, Izzy
Boys: Ezekiel, Mal, Topher
Episode 22: Rapa Phooey
"Last time, on Total Drama World Tour!" Chris opened, the recap beginning with a pan across the Serengeti ending in the castmates reacting with shock. "Africa! Come for the safari, stay for the near-death experience!" The host adopted a vaguely 'African' accent for the next line, as clips of the rhino and lion were shown.
"Here we played a few rounds of the world's favorite game," he said over portions of the contestants getting hit by soccer balls. "And then, we went on a wild alien hunt!" Ezekiel Clone was shown popping out of a bush and sniffing around, then the teens shot their tranq balls at each other."'cept nobody told Owen it was open season on him!" Chris chuckled as the big guy was shown first getting tackled by Ezekiel Clone, and then trying to keep him away from his face.
"And after all that," Eva shot Owen and the clone to sleep, "everyone managed to get Mal the Malicious voted out," Mal was shown to be upset about the vote. "Harsh!"
"Mal managed to live on for another day thanks to Owen neglecting the rules of the show, which was to sing," Owen was shown going back to sleep and departing the plane. "That's gotta be tough!"
The recap ended and the scene flashed to the cockpit. "Can it get any wilder?" Chris asked the camera. "Oh yeah it can!" he danced, the grand title tune of the season beginning unusually early. "It's Final Five time, right here on Total! Drama! World Tour!"
The camera zoomed out as usual, the final shot showing another airplane flying across in the far distance.
XXXXX
After the usual opening shot of the plane in flight, the scene cut inside to first class as Eva stretched her arms up above her head and sighed.
"Strange. I never got interrupted by Izzy singing about the monkeys on the walls," Eva said as she looked around. "Oh right. Izzy's not in first class this time."
"And I couldn't be any more glad," Topher sighed comfortably. The camera cut over to the opposite side to show Topher leaning back on his couch. "If she was here again, she'd be too much of a god player."
"You're lucky I brought you up here for a purpose, or else I'd pick Ezekiel instead," Eva brought up.
Confessional: Topher
"So because I was affiliated with Mal, I know Eva wants information from me about how to stop him," Topher confessed. "I'll give her some tips, but it's going to come with a fee."
Confessional Ends
Topher was pushing a cart filled with candy. "While you were sleeping, Chris delivered your prize for winning," he explained.
"Candy? Is that the best he can do?" Eva griped.
"I have a sweet tooth, so I wouldn't mind taking some of these sweets myself." Topher grabbed a couple of lollipops and caramel apples and shoved them into his pockets.
"I don't want to discuss candy with you," Eva clarified. "I just want to know-"
"How to take down Mal because I cooperated with him," Topher finished her sentence.
"I was going to finish that," Eva reminded the dirty blond.
"I'll help you, but on one condition," Topher said.
"What could it be?" Eva raised her unibrow.
"You have to promise that you'll let me win the next challenge," Topher revealed his goal.
Eva scoffed. "Forget it. I like to win, and no way will I let you claim victory at any time."
Topher sniffed and pulled the cart away. "It's your loss and funeral."
Confessional: Eva
"Topher's nowhere near as bad as Mal, but he sure is annoying. Give up a chance of winning? I want to take down Mal, but not if it comes to that," Eva made clear to the viewers.
Confessional Ends
As the scene moved to economy class, the silhouette of Ezekiel Clone could be seen standing just outside the opening to the compartment. The shot panned over to Ezekiel and Izzy sitting on one of the benches.
"The silent treatment?" Mal scoffed as he was in view of the camera. "Really?"
"What else did you expect?" Ezekiel rudely told him. "Us flying over a rainbow?"
"Nope, because rainbows are sanguine," Mal spat out.
"If you want us to work with you, then you can forget it," Izzy said. "I don't trust liars, and I'm looking at one right now."
"I don't have to take any of this," Mal said to the girl. "Owen may be gone, but you will join him next."
"We'll just have to see about that, Mal!" Izzy retorted as Mal left her and Ezekiel alone.
"What a knob," Ezekiel muttered under his breath. "Did you two know each other before the show, because he certainly hates you the most out of everyone here."
"We went to the same juvenile center, and the both of us were very well-known for what we did that got us arrested," Izzy answered.
"Did you happen to know Duncan before you joined the show?" Ezekiel followed up.
"I never personally talked to him, but he also knew about Mal," Izzy said.
"I can't believe I never listened to Sky and Duncan when they said that something was off about that guy," Ezekiel grumbled. "Now that they're gone, we're lacking a bit of strength against Mal."
"Zeke, they may be out of the game, but that doesn't mean we can't all work together," Izzy stated. "It's four of us against one of him after all."
"Yeah," Ezekiel agreed, though confusion crept up inside him. "Wait, this includes Topher, right?"
"Definitely, but I still haven't forgotten how he got rid of my friends," Izzy said. "Once Mal goes, he's next."
"I am in an alliance with him, but that'll end if Mal is eliminated," Ezekiel said. "For now, let's get Topher and Eva to see the reason as to why we should be a team eh."
"I like the way you think," Izzy smirked at him.
Confessional: Ezekiel
"We were able to vote for Mal last time, but because of the sing or get eliminated rule, Owen had to leave. As long as Mal doesn't win and we all sing, the votes won't be ignored," Ezekiel deduced. "I'm not stupid, just a bit ignorant and naive."
Confessional Ends
"Attention passengers," Chris announced over the loudspeaker as the plane was shown beginning to descend, "please prepare for landing!"
The scene cut inside the cockpit as the host hung up the microphone and looked at Chef. "C'mon, just let me fly it once!" he pleaded to the unflinching pilot. "What can it hurt? It's technically my plane, you know."
He reached over for the controls, but Chef quickly turned to stop him and the two grown men engaged in a slap-fight. The jet was shown wobbling and losing altitude dramatically, cries of "My pinkie!" and "Hey!" coming from Chris and Chef inside.
The camera moved to ground-level at an island beach, a moai statue prominently in the foreground as the plane rapidly descended towards it and the camera. "Oh no!" Chris screamed as the plane flew forward, clipping the moai statue with its wing as it swung stage right and knocking the giant head over.
"Gosh darn it!" Chef swore from off-screen.
\
Seagulls were crying off-camera as the scene flashed forward, showing Eva and Mal walking up to the fallen statue.
"Another piece of world heritage destroyed," Mal remarked cynically.
"That won't be the only thing that's getting destroyed today," Eva told him.
"Who, me?" Mal pretended to be shocked.
"I was thinking about Topher… of course it's you!" Eva said.
"You may have muscles that are bigger than my soul, but don't forget that I do have a brain," Mal said back.
It was then that the rest of the Final Five walked up to them. "These caramel apples are delicious," Ezekiel claimed while holding one. Izzy was snacking on a chocolate bar, and Topher popped a sweet into his mouth.
"This is even better than Cody's stash of candy," Izzy moaned at her chocolate.
"These dopes get the first class prizes and not me?" Mal reprimanded.
"Did you think I was going to reward you after everything you did?" Topher bluntly asked.
Confessional: Mal
"So many people to choose from," Mal pondered. "The hardest thing for me is deciding who I won't pick off."
Confessional Ends
Several more moai statues were shown dotting another stretch of beach, seagulls crying as the camera panned rightward to the five tired contestants climbing up the side of a steeper hill.
"'Iorana!" Chris greeted them from off-screen once they'd reached the top, startling the five with his appearance. He had once again appropriated a local costume, now nearly naked except for a small leather loincloth, furry shin guards, and a three-tiered feather headdress in blue, red, and green. He also wore a necklace of what looked like small pebbles and a curved bone in the middle of it, and had white lines running across his cheeks and down his bare chest.
"Wow Chris. You've been working out," Chris commented in a pleased tone.
"And welcome to Easter Island," Chris continued. "Aka, Rapa Nui! Place is old," he explained. "These dudes were carved so long ago," he gestured at another moai, "no one even remembers why anymore! Ten bucks says it started as a dare," he said with a cheeky smile.
"Twenty bucks says get on with it!" Eva griped.
"Yeah," Chris deadpanned before continuing. "Today, you, our Final Five, are going on a highly traditional Easter Island egg hunt," he explained as the shot panned across the five teens.
"Are we gonna be hunting for chocolate Easter eggs?" Izzy asked eagerly after taking a bite from her chocolate bar.
"Uhh, no. I'm talking the old school kind of eggs," Chris replied, "the kind that come from birds, y'know those flying things with feathers and talons and vicious kill-you-in-a-second beaks?" The contestants gasped to varying degrees.
"Speaking of which," Chris said with a sly smile, bending over to pick up five feathered headdresses, "traditional feathered Rapa Nui headdresses! Wear 'em with pride, chickens!"
He tossed them into the hands of the contestants at the same time: blue for Mal, green for Eva, purple for Ezekiel, red for Topher, and yellow for Izzy.
\
The footage skipped forward a little ways to show Chris leading the Final Five, now wearing their headdresses, past a few more stone heads that seemed to have rather...unusual shapes.
"Hidden in these head things are a bunch of colored eggs that match the color of your...head thing," Chris told them.
"So you really did your research," Mal said dryly.
"Your challenge," Chris continued, "to find three eggs in your color. Then make a break for the massive underground cavern system and book it all the way up to the highest point on the island." The camera panned away from the host as he gave his explanation, showing a nearby cave entrance first before quick-panning upwards to another cave on top of a high hill.
"Reach the top with all three eggs to begin the second part of today's challenge," the host explained as the shot cut back to him and the Final Five.
"What happens if we drop an egg?" Izzy asked.
"You'll have to come all the way back here for a replacement," Chris answered, causing Topher to quickly raise his hand. "And no," Chris said in anticipation of the next question, "you can not take a back-up egg." Topher lowered his hand in annoyance. "First to the top gets a big advantage in part two," the host said, the shot zooming out to show the backs of the contestants. "Now, scramble!"
At his command, the five turned and ran towards the stone heads.
\
Izzy and Topher ran up to two of the giant heads and paused to look up at them.
"These look really familiar," Izzy commented, the camera panning up to show that the two they were standing in front of had been carved to look like Lindsay and Shawn.
Izzy gasped and continued looking on to the right. "It's everyone who's been eliminated," she commented in shock as the camera panned across statues that looked like Jo, Rodney, Duncan, and Amy.
With a few grunts of effort, Topher began climbing up a statue of Lindsay, while Izzy did the same with Shawn. It wasn't long before Izzy managed to reach inside the statue's hat and pull out an egg.
"I got one!" Izzy said with delight, before seeing its red color. "That's not mine."
"Blue's my color," Topher commented as he clung to Lindsay's ear. "Hand it over."
Izzy thought about it, but decided to throw the red egg over to Topher. "If we're going to get rid of Mal, we'll have to work together."
"I'll remember that when I locate one of your eggs," Topher told her before dropping down from Lindsay's statue with his egg.
Meanwhile, Ezekiel had climbed on to Sadie's head and smiled when he pulled a purple egg from behind her hair. "You are so helpful to me, Sadie," he said, giving the statue a kiss.
"I wish I could say the same thing about Ella," Eva commented, pulling out what looked like a yellow bird out of her ear. She let it fly, then scoffed. "I do not know what goes on in her head 24/7."
The shot cut to Cody's statue, then panned down to Mal as he looked it over. "I hope that dingo didn't take away your brain cells," he taunted, kicking the statue's base. A blue egg fell from his tooth and landed in Mal's hands. "Perfect."
The camera cut to Heather's statue, where a green egg could be seen in her ear. Izzy jumped onto the statue with a grunt, then pulled the egg from its hiding spot. "Excellent! One for me!" she cheered. "I just need something to carry it in," she said thoughtfully. The camera briefly cut to a patch of long grass and back to her smiling eagerly.
\
The footage skipped ahead to show the psycho girl, now with a yellow egg in a bjorn made from the grass she'd spotted earlier, searching at the head of Amy. "Yeah!" she cheered as she pulled out a yellow egg. "Another one! And one for Eva as well!" she said as she pulled out a green egg. "I should go give this to her."
The camera cut to Eva about to climb Duncan's statue, until the sound of footsteps caught her attention.
"Eva!" Izzy cried as she ran over. "I found one of your eggs!" She thrusted the egg into the bodybuilder's basket.
"Really?" Eva wondered.
"I know you'd do the same for me given the situation we're in," Izzy said.
"First Ella and now you?" Eva asked. "Why do I keep getting unwanted assistance in the game?"
"'Cause we're Team E-Scope, Eva," Izzy responded.
Confessional: Izzy
"Me and Izzy are currently the last girls left in the competition," Izzy explained. "With Noah and Owen gone, the boys outnumber us. That won't be a bad thing if Topher and Ezekiel are with us."
Confessional: Eva
"Now I'm starting to consider letting Topher win if it'll defeat Mal," Eva said. "The contestants help me even when I don't ask for it. Maybe I should return the favor for the first time."
Confessionals End
Rodney's stoney rendition was shown next, a red egg nestled in his right ear. Topher was currently trying to reach it, but the height of his head and the egg he was trying to hold on to was making it difficult.
Topher stretched out his arm enough to just barely brush the egg with his fingertips. Unfortunately, this only served to unbalance the egg; it wobbled a bit, then fell forward and cracked on the stone below.
"It was strategy. Nothing against you," Topher groaned, jumping down to the ground.
"You clearly don't have anything to put your eggs in," Izzy commented as she and Eva walked over to the Chris fan. "We'll help you out, but you have to give us our eggs if you find them."
"It's a deal," Topher agreed quickly. "I don't even care who wins anymore, as long as it's not Mal."
Confessional: Topher
"I'm out of my league for this one. I had to convince Izzy to give me one of my eggs," Topher admitted embarrassingly. "Not a good look for me."
Confessional Ends
The scene moved back to Mal walking around with three eggs in his basket.
"How did you manage to find three eggs while I only found two?" Ezekiel asked in astonishment.
"I can utilize the abilities of my slaves, and Manitoba is very useful indeed," Mal chuckled.
"Calling your personalities 'slaves' is not a good thing to do eh," Ezekiel called him out.
"So does picking your nose or offending women," Mal teased.
Ezekiel squinted his eyes at Mal and turned his heel. "I'm trying to grow out of that. Now leave me alone!"
Confessional: Ezekiel
"I'm really starting to get tired of people bringing up the bad stuff I did in the past," Ezekiel groaned.
Confessional Ends
The scene flashed to the beach near where the plane had landed. Chef and a pair of interns were now trying to move the knocked-over moai back upright, with Chef pulling on a rope in front while the interns pushed from behind.
Chef groaned and grunted in exertion, but paused when the host's voice came in over a walkie-talkie in his pocket. "This is King of all Chrisdom seeking Bitty Baby, over!" Chris said. Chef let go of his rope to pull out the communicator, and the moai head fell back over onto the two interns that had been trying to push it.
"When you're done slackin', think you can give me a hand?" Chris asked.
\
A flash took the focus back to Mal, who was looking rather tired as he trekked uphill through the underground cavern system.
"It's a good thing I didn't eat those sweets otherwise I wouldn't be able to trek uphill for much longer," he grumbled.
Mal then heard something approaching, and he looked forward again and went into a nook in the side of the tunnel just as a large spherical boulder barreled down the slope.
He leaned out with shock on his faces after the boulder left, and the camera cut to Eva, Ezekiel, Izzy, and Topher, who had also found three eggs each and started their journey through the caverns. They quickly spotted the approaching boulder, screamed, and ducked into crannies on opposite sides of the tunnel.
"You have got to be kidding!" Ezekiel exclaimed, the four poking their heads back out into the open.
\
The scene flashed to the cave's exit at the highest point of the island, where a cackling Chris watched as Chef pushed another large, spherical boulder into the caverns. He sighed mirthfully as the camera cut in for a close-up, then as the grand title theme began to play he told it "We've got tons more fun, literally," he motioned to a nearby pile of similar boulders, "right after this, on Total! Drama! World Tour!"
\
(Commercial Break)
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Calling all nail techs! what are your pet peeves? Rather it’s taking clients, products, social media etc
i’ll go first;
1: people spreading false information on social media, like when people say to never cut your cuticles cause it’s alive (obviously it’s dead..) or to not push them back cause it’ll “damage” the nail plate.. where do people get this information?!
2: i’m less than a month away to graduate and i had to use my mother as a model for class since i dont know anyone here (moved to my current place 2 years ago and was homeschooled) and she’s soo stiff! it drives me insane, and that she won’t sit properly/rest her hands properly making my job 10x more worse ahh!
3; when i’m watching videos about different acrylic brands and they REDIP their brush into the monomer and WIPE it on top.. (just why?) and then using a huge brush! the school supplied me with a #8 and i feel like it’s way too big since my nails are really small and i’m tempted to buy a #6 but i can’t find any affordable brushes with caps on amazon. (mine got bent)