2021.11.28 20:01 jnjintc mTorr over 2500
Does anyone have any suggestions...I have the maintenance free pump and have used it about a dozen times. This run the mTorr’s are stuck at over 2500. Barely a year old 😢 Any suggestions would be greatly appreciated...
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2021.11.28 20:01 sharewithme Word of The Hour: generacija
2021.11.28 20:01 linchado Subtle photosynthesis, Me, Photography, 2021
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2021.11.28 20:01 Wumbotlo News organizations that are so quick to label various atrocities terrorist incidents regardless of evidence show extreme restraint and passivity in their reporting on the #Waukesha parade massacre. “A car.” https://t.co/6eJrR1wHFG
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2021.11.28 20:01 PM-Ur-Small-Tits What's a story you've always wanted to tell but never had the opportunity to?
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2021.11.28 20:01 GamelessOne Which character of your MBTI type do you identify with the most?
2021.11.28 20:01 Chadvoluted Fodder Inc #136: I Always Feel Like...
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2021.11.28 20:01 sharewithme Word of The Hour: generación
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2021.11.28 20:01 HilariousInformative Homeless people vs stray dogs and cats
2021.11.28 20:01 crabgal Why might I be prescribed an antidepressant to treat my anxiety if anti anxiety medication exists?
I’m in an introductory psych class for my major (education), and on a chapter dedicated to therapy and treating psychological disorders. A table if various drugs I just looked over made me wonder why I’d get antidepressants for an anxiety disorder. Is one more effective long-term than the other?
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2021.11.28 20:01 benjaminthebarista 2 days old
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2021.11.28 20:01 xoMemphis https://www.twitch.tv/xomemphis
2021.11.28 20:01 aangulo1990 I saw The Midnight last night and it was a fantastic experience. Flawless live.
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2021.11.28 20:01 tjkoko86 [WTB] Jordan 1 Low Mocha Size 11 $220 shipped and invoiced
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2021.11.28 20:01 i_am_a_donut_1 Snowball fight collab
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2021.11.28 20:01 Post-YouTube Video: Can You Live Off Crypto?!
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2021.11.28 20:01 sharewithme Word of The Hour: generazione
2021.11.28 20:01 Cocao_Nibs The Duelist in Purple Armor - Chapter 10
As Ashira began to slowly advance towards Max, she wracked her mind, trying to figure out a way past his defense. She was drawing up blanks.
The Human fenced with his arm down, and weapon pointed at the floor. It seemed to run counter everything Ivan had taught them, so far. His open chest was too inviting of a target not to attack. Which was exactly what Ashira had done off the bat.
Advancing towards him, Ashira had pondered why it all seemed too good to be true. She had thought of reconsidering her attack, but she didn't. 'His chest is such a massive target,' she'd thought, 'how can I miss it?'
With that, she advanced once more, and lunged straight. Her point never made it to its target. She felt Max's point impale the underside of her arm, her soft armor preventing the weapon from carving open a gash from her wrist to her elbow.
Now, the score was 1-0. And Ashira was determined not to make the same mistake twice.
'Think, Ash!' She chided herself. 'He wouldn't be here, teaching you to fence, if he was some random guy off the street! He knows what he is doing! The best chance you have against him is not beating him at his own game, but by not letting him play to his strengths."
It was easy for her to come to that conclusion. The hard part consisted of two steps: finding Max's weaknesses, and exploiting them. These were things that veteran fencers struggled with; how was a total novice going to manage it?
Thinking back to earlier in the day, Ashira recalled Ivan discussing a fast running attack with a student. She could not recall the move's name, and only a few details about its execution. Still, if she did it fast enough, she figured she could clear Max's defenses before he could bring up his arm.
Ashira extended her arm and leaned forward, feeling herself begin to fall forward in the process. She then brought her left leg past her right, as if to catch herself, but, instead, used it to kick off the ground and continue to accelerate down the strip towards Max. It was not pretty, or anywhere near textbook, but Ashira had unknowingly executed a flèche.
She covered the ground to her opponent in ever-longer bounds, becoming ever more sure of her impending successful touch as Max steadfastly refused to take any defensive action. And then, just as her épée’s point seemed millimeters away from his chest, Max seemed to disappear. A dull impact, just above her waist, let her know that his blade had found its mark. ‘But how?’ Ashira wondered, unsure of whether to feel disappointed or confused.
When she looked over her shoulder, she understood what had happened. Max was in a squatting position, blade still pointed up at where Ashira’s body had been moments prior. ‘Ah, that figures,’ she mused as she walked back to her en garde line. ‘I am way taller than him, and my arm is always going to be above his shoulder. Well, if he is going to keep his arm down, unless he thinks I’m attacking, I’m going to have to make him think I’ll attack.’
This time, Max came to her, before she could begin to put pressure on him. He was no longer just keeping his arm down, either. Just like Masha had done in her bout against Aro, Max was threatening Ashira’s wrist, bringing his arm down between actions. But the Shil’vati had a plan.
Putting on an air of naivety, Ashira slightly pushed Max’s blade to the left. In her mind, she was ready to bring her arm to the right, ready to catch his point. To her satisfaction, Max seemed to take the bait, his point beginning to travel down, away from her blade. She started to move her blade to the right, ready to stop his crafty attack.
Her satisfaction turned to dismay when his point kept moving down. Though his body was now open, all the force Ashira had put behind her arm, in an effort to catch his blade on the disengage, kept it travelling uselessly to the right. An impact to the top of her foot notified her that Max had scored yet another point.
This time, Ashira couldn’t help herself. “How did you know?” She whined. She had thought that her plan was bulletproof, and yet Max, a male of all things, had seemed to read her mind and predict her actions. It was as if she had a screen across her chest, announcing her every next move.
“Well, you did watch Masha’s bout with great interest,” Max explained. “I figured you might try something like that. Besides, I like sniping on the low line. Keeps my opponents on their toes.”
As the two left their en garde lines for a fourth time, Ashira was faced with a dilemma. She couldn’t leave her low line uncovered. So far, two of the three touches she’d lost were low. And, yet, she couldn’t simply leave her high line uncovered, either. Max could easily touch the top of her arm, if she lowered it to guard low.
As Max again brought his point to her wrist, Ashira made up her mind. She would just not move her arm. The point dancing around her wrist was just the bait on the fishing line, right?
The sharp impact that followed her decision told her otherwise. Max had been ready for her refusal. The score was now 4-0. Match point. She had to act.
This time, as Max’s point began to seek out her wrist, Ashira again parried it inwards. But, this time, she tried something new. As steel met steel, the Shil’vati twisted her wrist to the right and downwards. Max’s blade now pointed down, as did her’s.
She extended her arm and, in the same moment that she felt another impact to her foot, she felt her own blade find something soft. Double touch. Final score: 5-2.
Ashira ripped off her mask, saluted Max, and got off the strip.
As she approached Ivan for her debriefing, she became aware of how tired she really was. Her legs felt unbearably hot and impossibly cold at the same time. The underside of her arm, where the Human had scored his first touch, throbbed with pain, as did her gut, from when she had practically impaled herself on his point while mid-flèche. Sweat ran down her forehead, dripped from her brow, and pooled under her armor. It took everything she had to remain standing before her superior as he spoke.
“I like the way you think,” Ivan congratulated her. “You recognized that you couldn’t break through Max’s defense, so you let him come to you. I like that four-eight you did at the end. I don’t think I’ve taught that one to you girls yet, so good job figuring it out on your own.”
“Now, for the boring administrative stuff,” the Meritorious Sergeant continued. “Today was a bit of a special day. We were just getting you girls started on the basics; seeing where you are and stuff. A normal day is going to go a bit differently. You are all going to have half an hour of one-on-one training with me at the start of each day, sometime between eight o’clock and two o’clock. Then, at three, we have a proper class, which will go until about half-past seven.”
“So, how am I supposed to know when to come for training in the mornings?” Ashira asked.
“Oh, right!” Ivan laughed. “Guess I’m getting too far ahead of myself! There is a time sheet posted by the gun charging rack. It shows the schedule. The times will rotate, so no one will get stuck with an early slot. If I’m not mistaken, you have the eight o’clock slot tomorrow.”
Ashira nodded. It honestly didn’t seem as bad as she had expected. She had gone in with the expectation that she would be worked like a rancher’s lone Turox, so the idea of nearly six hours of downtime each day was practically a dream come true. As was about to turn and leave, Ivan continued speaking.
“Sorry to keep you here, but a few more things. First, the showers and locker room are through the door on the left in the entrance area. Second, after you unsuit, throw your armor into the green bucket by the door of the locker room. You can also throw your used towels there. And, before you leave for the day, please exchange contact details with your training partner. You especially will need them, since you will be going to the gyms daily.”
As much as Ashira wanted to casually jog off like the Raikiri before her, the most she could manage was a slow, measured walk. Standing still, even just for a minute, had been enough to let her muscles get cold, stiff, and spiteful.
Pushing open the door to the locker room, she made her way to the nearest bench, onto which she sat down with a groan. The sweat inside her armor had found its way to the suit’s lowest point, so each step she made was accompanied by a mortifyingly-loud squelch; she was more than eager to get it off. Annoyingly, she couldn’t reach the zipper, which ran down the left side of her back. Her right arm was simply too sore and stiff to bend in the right way.
Just as Ashira began to contemplate hauling herself back to the gym, and embarrassing herself further by asking someone to start the zipper for her, she heard the door behind her open. “Hey, sis!” she called out, not bothering to look back. “Can you unzip my gear for me? My arm’s all screwed up from my bout with Max.”
To her horror, she heard the man himself respond. “Sure thing, Ash; no problem! And sorry about your arm. I didn’t mean to hit it that hard.”
As she felt the zipper go down and her suit loosen, Ashira’s face flushed deep blue. ‘What is wrong with you?’ She scolded herself. ‘You are acting like a complete creep; you’ve not even known him for a full day! Get it together, Ash!’
“Since you are here, can I get your contact details, or something? Ivan, he, uhh… he, well, wants me to work out at the gym every day, and I need a spotter and, well…” She trailed off. ‘Smooth. Real damn smooth, Ash. If he didn’t think you were trying to get in his pants before, he certainly does now.’
“No problem!” Max replied, apparently unfazed by Ashira’s train-wreck of an explanation. “Ivan did mention something about pairing people off based on their proximity to each other, so I guess that checks out. I live in Block R27, Apartment 238.”
“Same block, Apartment 310.”
“Lucky!” Max exclaimed. “You’re on the third floor; you will have a window! I’m on the second floor, so no window for me. They built the housing over top of old foundations, so they just turned the basements into extra floors.”
Ashira peeled off her armor, balled it up, and tossed it into the bucket by the door. “By the way, thanks for helping me out,” she said, finally looking up at Max. He had already stripped down to his tank top and shorts, and was making his way to the shower stalls, towel slung over his shoulder.
“No problem!” He laughed. “I’m helping you tonight with your workout, right?”
“Yeah,” Ashira replied, again starting to blush, for reasons unknown to her.
“See you then!” Max shouted back, before closing his stall’s door.
This is the final chapter that will be published within my Thanksgiving break writing marathon window. From here on out, expect weekly chapters (with extras if I have free time) until the holiday break in December.
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