y’all please don’t be mean, ik it sounds dumb but i really need help. not only that, but ik this might sound like some “dumb high school bullshit” , but i really need help. also , i’m so sorry for being so annoying and for constantly asking questions like this on this sub and also throughout my entire account 💀.
so i don’t feel like explaining the entire situation between me and him here , so here’s a post explaining that happened. and also, some of you guys might probably remember me.
anyways, now that i think abt it , i don’t think he was a narcissist. that word gets thrown out a lot with no meaning, and tbh i think he was simply just a toxic person. me and him are both under 18 (i’m 15 and he’s 17), so he can’t be a narcissist , right? however, he did have some traits that makes me suspect narcissism: nice to me in public but was awful to me in private , lacked empathy , hit me out of anger and tried to make me think that he didn’t do it and that he hit me lightly , used me as an option and ego boost , and would think that he was better than me. not only that, but he constantly needed attention - and even our teacher pointed that as well multiple times.
anyways well , it’s been a full year and nearly 2 months since i went NC with him. as far as healing goes , i still think about him 24/7. however , i’ve been having a crush on someone else and i’m not sure if that guy likes me back tbh. you can even check my recent posts abt this guy.
anyways, i still think about him 24/7 but his actions don’t really bother me anymore. however, i still feel worthless and bad about myself bc of him, but idk i’m just too exhausted to ruminate and to explain the whole situation again.
anyways , what do you guys think? do you guys have any advice? do you guys think he was just toxic? how do i stop thinking about him?

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Nalah affixed the massive shield to her back, the rectangular form large enough for him to fit behind while only needing to crouch slightly. It was mostly ironwood, but the sides and front were metal-plated, so it still weighed a considerable amount. Despite that, the thing’s bulk hardly seemed to be noticed by the blonde-furred female, likely due to the constant construction work she involved herself in. It paired oddly with the long pike she insisted on using, but he couldn’t deny that poking at things while hiding behind a mobile wall sounded like a good idea.
Jax was wearing his new armour, the bulky chest-piece a mirror of his blond-furred pack mate’s. Though he forwent the protection a buckler or likewise would offer, he doubled up on gear. Gauntlets, vambraces, pauldrons, and anything else he could wear to compliment the massive axe he had taken a liking to.
Where Nalah was fitted to look like an apocalypse survivor—her protections limited to her torso, forearms, and shield—the black-furred male resembled a giant, if underfunded, paladin. All he needed now was some religious imagery and a penchant for exalting the qualities of their god. Joseph almost nudged the guy to suggest it for kicks.
On second thought, he decided that Jax absolutely did not need a reason to start yelling about the Human-turned-religious-figure, because there was no way in hell he wouldn’t. There was no telling what he would choose to say, and the Grand Hunter was perfectly happy never knowing.
Having been with the male as long as he had, it would probably involve ‘taming’ females or something else that would leave him groaning for weeks, if not just contemplating another high-dive from the cliff.
Joseph fixed his own equipment, the ‘Wraith armour’ worn over his own thin iron breastplate. He wasn’t thrilled to wear the extra weight, but it beat being mauled by the thing they were heading out to kill. The trips so far had been tolerable, fog and overcast skies keeping the temperature in check, but he didn’t want to go out in this on a hotter day as Summer really kicked back in. He was sweaty enough without baking inside all this crap.
He adjusted the wolf-skull mask, the rest of the hunting party having gotten over the worst of the unease it gave them. Though they’d needed to rotate people out for the sake of fairness, this would be their eighth consecutive scouting. Using the information that Raine and Faye provided, they narrowed down a likely stomping grounds for the creature and were systematically clearing sectors. It might have been discouraging to keep looking after so long, but the occasional marking on trees and the odd moss-wolf corpse tipped them off that they were getting close. There was still another week’s worth of searching left if today wasn’t the day, but somehow he doubted they wouldn’t need that long.
All in all, they numbered six; larger parties were attempted, but their efforts at stealth quickly became pointless between so many trudging through the forest and stopping for breaks. There was a bit of a scare where one of Mi’low’s pack went missing, but the guy had just stopped to relieve himself. Since the discovery was made by someone else knocking him over in the process by mistake, they decided that keeping the number smaller made communication easier. And lowered the amount of grumbling about needing a bath.
Jax, Nalah, two security members, one of the hunters, and him. Sure, grabbing Tel or the Wraiths would have been a bit more useful for cohesion, but they were all busy with things, and he didn’t want to grind everything in the settlement to a halt for nothing if the search turned up empty again. They were more suited to taking out their fellow Lilhun than some monster in the woods, as much as he disliked the thought.
Scarlet was spending a lot of time with Violet and the new Atmo, Faye was spending much of her recovery with the moss-wolves and moss-pup, and Tel was in the process of helping Harrow shore up the few security members that were slated to become snipers. Kaslin was still learning chemistry with Toril, and Raine was helping whoever needed a hand, so that marked off all of his usual accompaniment. He could have taken more of his direct pack, but they all had important things to take care of as well.
Sahari was managing the pack and putting people where people needed to be put, Pan was working with Idee and Heralt to make a line of armour for the whole pack, and Mi’low was...well, Mi’low. He was pretty sure she was unofficially the master of the hunter’s lodge and spent most of her time keeping track of what came in and out of it, while also making sure that everyone got their fair share. It needed to be done with the settlement growing as much as it had, and it kept Mi’low busy enough to stymie the flow of complaints, so he wasn’t about to complain.
They double checked that they had everything that was needed; food, water, arrows, bolts, and some bags to store anything that the snares had caught on the way back. Four ranged and two melee weapons meant that they would be mostly using Jax and Nalah to soak hits if it came down to it, the others peppering it with projectiles. Given that Harrow was insistent on the bear-thing being resistant to anything they could use at a distance, they also carried spare weapons for the ranged users, just in case. Nodding, Joseph gestured to the group finishing up their preparations for the day’s trip.
“A moment, sir?” Scarlet called to him as she approached the gate, the Wraith flanked by Rose and Cobalt. The two Atmo were decked-out in their own armour, which appeared to be almost entirely metal, save for the palm lining the inside for comfort. Each of their six legs were adorned with broad shields, their bases capped off with a flat storage carriage. They looked like someone had a little too much fun testing how much the insects could effortlessly carry and had ended up with sapient hexapedal tanks.
“Only if you explain why those two would look more at home if they had cannons installed on their backs,” he quipped, an expression somewhere between surprised, amused, and plain dumbfounded plastered on his face. The blackish red-furred female smirked for a split-second before resuming her usual servile presentation.
“The young mistress had extended her request for these two to accompany you.”
Joseph tilted his head incredulously. “Violet told you to send them?”
Scarlet nodded, gesturing to the outfitted Atmo. “They have been under her tutelage for some time now, and wish to be of assistance.”
The Grand Hunter snapped his mouth closed when he was about to ask why his daughter would teach them anything that might be useful for fighting a deadly beast. Of course she did; It was one of the first things he did for her. It would have been weirder for her not to pass on what she knew after all the hours she spent either seeing him coach the others, or being coached herself. With the time she had under her belt, she was the local Atmo Close Quarters Combat specialist, and no one else understood how the modified boxing she learned worked with their bodies like she did.
He wore a hesitant expression, shifting his weight to his other leg. “Well, they’ve certainly geared up.”
“It is a product our smith is rather proud of,” the Wraith affirmed confidently.
He exhaled slowly. “Seems a bit much.”
She seemed to be expecting the remark, barely pausing to register what he said before responding. “Your kit wishes you safe, yet understands you would not allow her to accompany you. These two wish to be of assistance.”
To punctuate her point, the two nodded in agreement, walking forward and slinging some of the backpacks onto their carriages. It seemed ‘no’ wasn’t something they were going to accept after Violet had said her piece. He sighed, conceding that they wouldn’t slow the party down with everyone carrying so much weight in equipment, regardless of the bags. They took breaks frequently enough to accommodate the Atmo, so that wouldn’t hinder anything either.
“Fine,” he relented with a wave of his hand. “We’ll take them. Not like they’d hurt anyway. But–” He put a warning into his tone. “–they’re not playing the hero and getting themselves killed. This isn’t going to work if they think any of us dying is still a net positive, got it?”
The two Atmo mimed their understanding, Scarlet replying with a victorious smile. Joseph couldn’t help but bemusedly roll his eyes. The female had taken rather well to baby-sitting, and that seems to have extended to humouring the young Queen’s schemes now. It wasn’t an unwelcome addition to their little sojourn. At least they could haul back any larger game without it tacking hours onto the return trip.
He thanked Scarlet for her trouble before dismissing her, confirming with the group that everything was accounted for, and set off before it grew too late. He wasn’t looking to get caught out in the woods during the night. The Lilhuns might be fine, but he was pretty well blind unless the moon felt generous.
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Jax watched the two Atmo quietly follow on the sides of the group, their heavily armoured forms posing no issues with their naturally soundless movements in the forest. In the den, they would make moderate clacks and clicks as their chitinous legs contacted the ground, but the soft dirt and foliage stifled all but the smallest report of their travel. With Scarlet supervising alongside Violet, he wouldn’t have been surprised to learn that the former Blade had influenced their movement with the goal in mind, though he had never paid much attention to how they walked before to compare.
He had to admit, having them carry the additional equipment was exceedingly useful. He had proposed having the group use the newly acquired platforms on their more arachnid-like abdomen to rest in shifts, but Joseph was quick to insist that the insects were of lesser stamina than even Lilhuns. The phrasing seemed like a comparative insult, but Jax had more than enough experience with the Human to know that he had simply spoken his mind. To him, everyone had sub-par stamina. Training had gone some way to remedy the discrepancy, but the Grand Hunter could still continue for longer than even the most well-conditioned of them.
The black-furred male rolled his shoulders, feeling the heft of his axe shift with the movement. It was an impressive size, the weight well-balanced and its edge sharp. He had once laid it to the ground out of curiosity and confirmed that it was about as tall as Pan from head to haft, though only if she stood to her full height. Regardless of its size, it was still lighter than the armour he chose to don.
Having only really worn leathers or a few sets of ironwood protections, the encumbering prominence of the iron equipment took getting used to. It wasn’t entirely restrictive, but did put a damper on any chances he had of sprinting from danger. That was fine, he supposed, since he was wearing it against a beast he had no experience with. It could very well outrun him regardless, and he would rather have the defences in either case.
Nalah seemed to be doing fine, the large barrier she kept on her back swaying slightly as she walked. She was unhindered by it, her movements barely affected by the bulk, which was reassuring. Joseph, however, seemed to be panting more than usual, the rolling cloud coverage easing as the sun progressively warmed the environment. The fog from earlier meant that it was rather humid, and that seemed to bore no well wishes for the male encased in dark leathers and thick plates. He had even flipped down his hood, the sweat beading on his skin adding a sheen to his visage.
“I liked this better when the sun didn’t exist,” the Human lamented quietly, just loud enough for Jax to hear. The black-furred male chuckled.
“It would be rather dark.”
Joseph glared at him for a moment before rolling his eyes. “I just don’t rank ‘heavily armoured hike through the woods’ high up on my list of things I want to do regularly.”
“I believe that list would be occupied by your mates, no?” he ribbed playfully, a smirk arising when the Grand Hunter shunted his eyes closed in a grimace.
“I hate you.”
“I can see your smile underneath your displeasure, Joseph,” Jax quipped, nudging the male with his elbow, then giving an apologetic smile when his friend almost fell. Joseph sighed, waving Cobalt over and fetching a water-skin from the luggage that the insect was ferrying without breaking stride—though he needed to be careful not to get stepped on.
The Atmo always amused Jax. Be it their passive demeanour hidden by their towering stature, or his interactions with the den-kit, they never failed to be curious people. Having the two that accompanied Volta with them was an unexpected development, but he couldn’t claim to disapprove. If they had been imparted the methods of combat that Violet had cultivated, then there was little worry of them being harmed by naught but perhaps their current target. At least not until there was a better reference of its strength than the single encounter the first-years had so long ago.
At the time, it had smashed pillars and pierced flesh effortlessly, claws proving to be little more than tempting ministrations of tender touch to the thick hide. Jax only had some of the pack’s recount to base the experience off of, but was content to take their word for it. He was, ashamedly, preoccupied taking care of baser needs when the event transpired, so he was woefully unprepared for the eventual encounter. Still, he was afforded the best the settlement had to offer so that he might serve his duty of protecting the Grand Hunter. Harrow would never forgive him if only he returned.
His thoughts were disturbed by Joseph calling for a rest, Jax’s legs thankful for the break from supporting the unusual weight for so long. The Human dispensed rations and water for the pack, the Atmo waiting until everyone else was supplied before accepting their portion. They rested on their base directly, instead of curling their legs beneath them like Jax had become accustomed. Perhaps the armour impeded such, or they wished to remain mobile in the event such was required. Regardless, they blocked what little breeze there was, forcing the Grand Hunter to walk beyond them to enjoy it in the shade. It was short-lived however, as Rose quickly repositioned to stay between the pack and whatever lay beyond their protections.
It was a futile effort, it seemed, because it repeated again twice before Joseph groaned loudly and threw himself atop the carriage to lay back, his legs dangling at the knee. He seemed perfectly content with the unorthodox arrangement, snorting his amusement along with a muttered comment about a ‘taxi.’
The entertaining sight was marred by a distant yelp, snapping the group to attention. Jax and Joseph traded looks, subtle nods and gestures given to move out while remaining quiet. Ignoring his earlier complaints, the Grand Hunter flicked his hood up and donned the mask, drawing his crossbow and readying a bolt. The hunter of the pack mimicked the preparation, the two security members loosely nocking their arrows while Rose, Cobalt, Jax, and Nalah took point.
They proceeded quietly for far longer than the proximity of the noise would have suggested, but marks and gashes upon the trees implied a moving conflict. Thoughts of it being a lost cause quickly became moot as a closer growl and bark shattered the careful silence they had been maintaining.
Motioning for the pack to stop, Joseph waved Jax forward, Nalah approaching the other side. Using the large shield as additional cover, they peered around a particularly thick tree. Locked in combat were two moss-wolves, both attacking a truly massive grey creature.
Twice the Human’s height, half that in width. Four pillars as legs—the muscular trunks sinewy and defined—supported the disturbing hunched figure, the wide base tapering slightly into a thick and extended torso. A singular eye-stalk replaced the head, the ocular organ atop it pitch black and free of any indication of its focus. Four arms with deadly claws parried and sliced the two yellow beasts as they attempted to drive off the predator, a sickeningly large maw gaping to catch any attempts at a lunge. The mouth of the creature almost occupied the entirety of the available surface area upon its front, the jagged bone tools of manduction undulating with the promise of sustenance.
Joseph pulled them back, cursing under his breath as he tried to fight off the tension. From Nalah’s worried expression, it seemed his caution was rather potent, the other members of the group smelling his reaction as well.
“So, what’s the plan, Jax?” the Human whispered, his grip on the crossbow alternating with his fingers stretching across the trigger lest his fidgeting cause a misfire.
“I thought that, with your record, you would wish to tame it for the settlement,” Jax replied while thinking through a plan of action. He was glad that his friend trusted him, but he wished he had known the true scale of the beast prior. Joseph grit his teeth, turning to glance past the tree again with sarcasm pouring out of his response.
“Can’t quite see Winnie-the-woodchipper there playing great with kids.”
“You say that after adopting an Atmo as kit, Grand Hunter,” he returned, nodding to himself when a plan formed. The Human smiled, the banter easing the tension somewhat. “Rose, Cobalt, you two are the most well defended of us. Circle around and drive the beast this way. You should be capable of such without noise, yes?”
The two insects nodded, emptying their luggage behind a tree so as not to lose any of it before disappearing into the trees. The slight glimmer of their iron armour was the only indication of their position through the dense forest. Jax hoped that the beast was not particularly curious about the dimly pulsing glare, nor finished with its current altercation in time to impede the pair.
Satisfied with their progress, he motioned for the two security members to scale a tree and gain a superior vantage point. Their weapons would be able to maintain a more rapid pace of sustained fire at longer ranges. Joseph and the hunter were instructed to hide behind trees nearby, though the Human would need to remain grounded as his lack of claws made scaling the large flora difficult with his equipment.
Finally, Nalah and he positioned themselves much closer, in order to flank the creature as it fled the Atmo and occupy it long enough for the others to bleed it out, if not outright dispose of it.
With the forms of the Atmo peeking through the brush opposite them, Jax raised his axe to signal the start.
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Joseph felt the hammering in his chest, his heart preparing him to fight for his life against the walking abomination that easily outclassed the only other predator that he had experience with. Sure, the moss-wolves were easy to take down once you had equipment and a plan, but that thing screamed danger.
He watched Jax and Nalah set up behind thick trees, their goal being for Jax to hopefully disable a leg or two with the war-axe while Nalah occupied it with the shield. As the two strongest members of his little family, he trusted both to do their job.
As a clusterfuck of animal and torture device, he had no faith in the creature playing along.
Swallowing his hesitation, he adjusted his grip on the crossbow again, mentally tallying his shots and cursing himself for not researching explosives. Sure, Toril didn’t want to be involved in that kind of weapon, but at the moment, the tailless white-furred male could suck it up and make one anyway. Joseph would give his left nut to see how quickly the chemist would make weapons of mass destruction just to annihilate whatever that thing called home.
Jax raised his axe, glinting the sunlight of it towards the Atmo. Receiving the start signal, the two clicked and loosed a deafening screech, the Human’s ears ringing even from this distance.
The beast seemed unperturbed by the noise, though the lack of visible ears may have had something to do with the lacklustre effect. Regardless, it did notice the two armour-clad insects charging at it, and smartly decided to extradite itself from the area. The moss-wolves, however, didn’t quite get the memo, mistaking the advancing assistance as yet another foe to defend themselves from.
He had to say, Violet taught the two well. They flashed their blades out in the same flicker jab that he had shown his daughter, and with an unceremonious squelch, the two bisected canines landed in four pieces, a vibrant green ichor now staining the weapon-like appendages of the Atmo. Undeterred by their first act of violence—as far as he was aware, anyway—they continued herding the beast.
It wasn’t as fast as they might have feared, its quadrupedal gait hindered by its proportions, but it was still quick enough to be damn intimidating. Its arms acted as a counter balance, constantly adjusting this way and that just to keep it stable. That thing was clearly never meant for sprinting, all its mobility being given to the overactive maw that pulsated with the exertion.
He readied his crossbow, the shaking in his hands not ruining his aim against such a large target. He eyeballed the distance between the creature and the ambush point, forcibly moving his finger off the trigger so that he didn’t fire early.
Closer. Come on. Almost.
Now.
Jax wound up like a particularly enthusiastic lumberjack, putting his full body into the rotation. The massive axe swung like a horizontal pendulum striking home with all the finality of a clock tolling midnight. It bit into the front leg of the beast, only sinking a few inches before momentum nearly wretched the weapon from the black-furred male. Luckily, the force and timing was enough to trip it, the creature crashing to the forest floor with a deafening roar of pain.
They could hurt it. That made him feel better.
His relief evaporated as the beast swiftly recovered, hauling itself from the ground faster than he thought possible, but his archers took it for an unspoken signal. Arrows and bolts peppered its thick hide, to no effect—it shrugged off the projectiles like they were nothing more than pine needles, none sinking far enough to gain notable purchase.
Jax hefted his axe for another strike, careful not to over-commit this time. Nalah prodded the beast wherever she could with her pike, the melee weapon sliced and skewered just past the surface of the hide, though not enough to do more than marr. It was, however, enough to gain the attention of the target, the creature swinging two of its four arms to rake across the shield that the blond-furred female held. The iron plating across the front let out an unearthly shriek as claws ripped and crumpled the metal.
Well, fuck.
Nalah was quick to react, treating the shield less as an immovable barrier and more like a slight distance buffer, dodging in and out of range to steal jabs with the polearm. The security members nocked another volley, picking different targets than before. An arrow bounced harmlessly off the black orb of an eye, another finding purchase in what passed for gums in its mouth.
The hint was received; aim for the mouth. Thankfully, that was a large target. Less thankfully, it realized that flashing its teeth was detrimental to its health, slamming the maw closed.
Jax managed another swing, this time into one of the rear legs. It wasn’t as effective as the first strike, but it did warrant a sweeping double back-fist from the creature, scoring Jax’s armour with shallow claw marks as he jumped backwards. Joseph let out a breath as he fired his second shot, only just narrowly missing the sliver of a gap between razor teeth that the enraged attack afforded. It couldn’t keep its mouth shut forever, each frenzied swipe pulling its form enough for glimpses of softer flesh within to appear. The hunter dropped from their tree, darting across to reposition for a wider angle to capitalize on. The creature noticed, lunging forward to eviscerate the easier target.
Joseph blinked as two armoured figures jumped in front of the Lilhun, raising their blades in a tight guard to block the four arms grabbing for a quick meal. The beast recoiled with a thunderous screech, two of its appendages sporting deep gashes that fountained blood, while the others managed to impact above the edged outside of the blades. Rose and Cobalt pressed forward, buying time and space for the hunter to collect themselves and scale up another perch. Taking advantage of its pain, two new arrows ripped through the air, smacking into exposed inner flesh. Two new protrusions joined the first in the mouth, one landing next to the existing projectile, while the other cleared the gateway of serration, driving deeply inside of it.
More flicker jabs and extended straights pushed and cut the beast as it tried to gain distance from the two that wounded it, every retaliatory strike earning it another gash in its grey hide.. Unencumbered by the constant barrage, Nalah thrust into its legs more vigorously, her body leaning into each attack to gain every inch of penetration she could into the muscle and thick hide.
Jax used the chance to score another chopping blow, doubling down on a previous wound to a back leg—striking bone this time, based on the unholy wail the beast uttered. Joseph raised his crossbow to land another shot into its mouth, but the beast flailed wildly to fend off the ambush.
Rose managed to block, Jax lunged backwards, Nalah deflected most of it with what remained of her shield, but Cobalt was caught by a strike, taking the hit to its torso. The Atmo flew backwards, rolling when it landed, the carriage and assorted armoured plates trailing behind it. Rose shifted instantly, covering the direction that their companion had been sent while Jax and Nalah focused on pulling the beast away from the downed combatant.
Joseph’s eyes flicked to the Atmo, waging an internal battle on whether helping the insect would be better or worse for the situation as a whole. He didn’t want to lighten up their assault if it would just mean more injuries, but Cobalt could be in dire need for a patch job. It was hard to tell from where he was.
Cursing, he bolted from his spot, firing off one last round into the gaping maw before clipping the crossbow onto his armour and sliding on his knees in front of Cobalt, healroot hastily retrieved from his pocket.
He paused, sighing in relief when none of the armour bore more than deep gashes, the carapace underneath unblemished by the attack. Cobalt clicked lightly, dazed, but otherwise seeming unhurt. Unlearned in the physiology relevant, he ushered the Atmo to remain out of the fight for fear of concussion or something similar. They could look at the insect back at the base to be sure later.
“Joseph!”
His head spun around at both Jax and Nalah screaming his name, a massive clawed hand sweeping at him—the monster's approach unnoticed while he focused on Cobalt. Lacking a better option, he lunged forward towards the underside of the beast to dodge the swipe, crashing to his shoulder on the dirt below.
The creature raised a leg above Joseph, pounding the earth scant inches from his head as he rolled sideways. Ignoring the kicked up dirt, he brought his fist to the underside of the beast, flicking the release on his bracer.
Blood spouted from the newly formed wound, the blade breaking at the mechanism as the massive animal lurched in pain, Joseph rolling out of the way of another attempted trampling. He scrambled to his feet, feeling the wind of another strike narrowly missing him.
Yeah, that would probably kill him.
Luckily, the injuries renewed the desire to flee in the monstrosity, the group of attackers proving too dangerous to continue challenging. It stumbled away from them, sparing Cobalt from its panicked trudging. Jax and Nalah started to run towards him, worry evident in their eyes, but he barked for them to finish it, redirecting the two to keep the pressure going. He didn’t want to mention the pain in the arm from where the bracer hitched. It didn’t feel broken, and thus was irrelevant.
Pressure applied, the grey beast picked a random direction free of opponents to escape, ignorant of the waiting security. When it was too close for them to shoot into its mouth at a decent angle, they slung the bows over their shoulders and drew the swords they had been afforded, patiently waiting with the blades turned down.
It passed below them, the two Lilhuns dropping from the branches to put their full weight into the plunging blades. Both landed on the large target, one sword sinking deep into a shoulder, while the other managed to pierce one of its hip joints. The beast spun haphazardly to dislodge the ‘new’ threats, both security members kicking off and finding new trees to set up in.
Whatever damage was actually done, it had lost the use of an arm, and its gait shifted awkwardly as the blade lodged in its hip worked more harm with each shambling step.. Emboldened, Jax picked up the pace, struggling to position himself with the amount of metal he wore. Ducking another swipe of its claws, he saw his chance and swung, pivoting with his axe as a counter weight. For the third time, his axe blade found the wound in its leg, adding a sickening crunch as the bone snapped from the impact.
The creature swung wildly, forced to favour its two remaining good legs, and the only other leg that could still support at least some of its weight. It was unstable now, the hunched figure swaying while unmoving. Unable to run, it decided to go down with as many of them as it could.
Rose caught up with the attack, drawing attention from the comparatively squishy Nalah as the blond-furred female deflected a wayward swing with her shield. The once iron-plated ironwood now sporting little more than jagged scraps of metal atop its silver wooden structure, a series of deep gouges marring the surface. Two lunging thrusts with the pike bit flesh, drawing new blood from the beast.
Joseph loaded his crossbow, getting off two bolts, but not managing to keep it steady enough to hit anything of use, his arm faltering under the weight of the weapon. Cursing, he decided to flank the beast and try his luck with the other bracer. If nothing else, the force in which the blade deployed was enough to pierce the thick hide, and the others were doing a good job of distracting it.
The red armoured Atmo let loose a series of directed swings, the fifth severing an arm in motion, the flying appendage forcing Nalah to raise her shield to block the unorthodox projectile. The female was sent sprawling from the weight of the impact, but the beast was too busy voicing its agony to take advantage of it. Jax worked another two chops into the broad legs, but neither managed to incapacitate it any more, and the prolonged exertion was slowing his reflexes.
As if cued into his waning energy, the beast flung Jax with another strike, the hunter of the group sinking a bolt deep into the cavernous flesh of its mouth to prevent an attempt at following up.
Joseph roared, desperate to finish it off before the creature could do the same to his downed pack. He sprinted at the monster's back and slid underneath it with as much speed as he could muster. Throwing his fist into the passing undercarriage, he let the deployed blade leave a long gash in its wake.
The grey monster lost its ability to stand, torn tendons, blood loss, and inflicted injuries taking their toll. The Grand Hunter kicked off his knees to fling himself out of the way of the collapsing figure, grimacing as the remaining bracer proved unable to support the abuse he had put it through. He looked back at the beast, the flailing body failing to right itself as teeth did little more than gouge dirt, its back exposed. Rose approached, raising their blades together and plunging it through the body over and over until it stopped moving.
Exhausted, the Atmo dropped where it was, breathing heavily. Joseph’s instinct to yell their victory was delayed as he hurried over to Jax and Nalah to confirm he didn't need to bring back bad news. Nalah seemed fine, if a bit sore from hitting the dirt and rolling, while Jax just asked to lay down when he heard that everything was over. Cobalt came over to the group, the armour that had come off collected atop the carriage it had managed to loosely affix to its base.
It was light, a chuckle originating from the Human as he slumped to the ground against a tree, but soon the entire group was roaring with laughter as victory settled in their minds. The two security members helped the hunter begin disassembling the beast, their contribution to the fight leaving them with more energy than the rest. They hadn’t been slacking off, that much was certain. The number of arrows jammed into the maw of the thing would have guaranteed a few extra seconds of survival and chances to escape if one of them had been forcibly tossed into there, and it had caused enough pause for the rest of them to get in a few hits up close.
Joseph rested across from Jax and Nalah, letting his heart rate slow from the rapid pace it had been pinned to since the start of the conflict. His arm continued its protests, but from the amount of movement he still had, he guessed that he had just strained the elbow. A few days taking it easy should straighten that right up.
Once the active members were about half way through processing the creature for hide and meat, Cobalt approached him, a mimed request for assistance putting their armour back on being redirected to Nalah since he doubted he could lift the damn pieces without hurting himself at the moment. She obliged, getting the blue Atmo back in full attire, though it took a while.
Rose stood first, stopping over to allow the hunter to place collected bits and pieces onto the carriage before securing it with whatever they could make due. A security member gathered the moss-wolf corpses for a similar treatment. Waste not, want not, he supposed.
Rose ended up carrying most of their spoils. When he was about to ask why, he, Jax, and Nalah were dragged to Cobalt and hefted onto the carriage. A series of confused questions revealed that the rest wanted to head back before it started getting dark, and it was pretty obvious who was the most exhausted of them. Lacking the will or energy to argue it, he flopped back on the Atmo as the trees passed them by, Nalah resting her legs across him as her head sat on Jax’s lap. The black-furred male didn’t so much as smirk, so it was clear he had pushed himself too far to quip about the arrangement as he laid down.
“The next time you wish to exhaust me this much, Joseph,” the Head of Security started after a long while of silence, tiredness in his voice, “I would prefer it to involve my mate and a bed.”
The Human snorted, closing his eyes and enjoying the lack of walking as the surprisingly stable Atmo carried the three of them. “Fuck off, Jax.”
“Of course, Grand Hunter.”
Next
A/N: Patreon is fixed!... aka new one cuz problems with the last. Check it out to support the story, get AI character art every now and then, or even preview sections of chapters as i write them! (aka, before kieve gets to fix them :D)

Is there any word on flames being nerfed? (That falls under the category of Flamethrower, Molotovs, and Engine Fires).
Players should not be catching on fire instantly from simply touching a lingering flame unless its from a direct stream of fire from a Flamethrower, it should be at least 1-2 seconds sitting in the fire to engulf yourself in flames (Damage over time still applies without the instant flame stun). What really ticks me off personally is the engine fires instantly catching me on fire when i'm trying to extinguish it from outside of the vehicle. How big is the flame damage entity on the back of the vehicle? It feels like it covers the entirety of the vehicle than just on the point that's on fire.
In terms of the Flamethrower weapon specifically: It seems logical and fair that it should get a turn speed nerf while firing and movement speed nerf; to what percentage I don't know, as long as a i'm not able to swing nearly 180 degrees with a single mouse movement and casually strafing back and forth while firing the flamethrower. I think it's a good way to balance it as players will simply sprint and burst fire from cover to adapt to becoming sitting ducks when firing for long periods of time in the open without the ability to swing back and forth like its a low pressure squirt gun. Even then, players being attacked by a flamethrower would still be blinded greatly by the flame plume so its not much of a nerf than a balance pass.
I don't want to pull the "Realism" card but a high pressure tank and hose shooting an ungodly hot liquid shouldn't be so easy to spray around willy nilly getting free kills with the most minimal effort.
-Dedicated Flamethrower main, burning players through walls since 2021

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Hello friends! I've been lurking here since I failed my 1 hour screen last week at 158. This community made me feel so much better about my result! thank you all! I see there's a lot of posts about food recommendation requests. I've been "mindful of my carbs" for the last 6 years, so I have developed an arsenal of good low carb food options. I'll list a few below. Unfortunately many may be specific to the US. Also, luckily my 3 hour test came back all normal and I haven't had to monitor my glucose at home, so i don't speak from GD experience.
These are all things I'm able to find at my local grocery stores (harris teeter and giant)
[Bread] Hotdog buns, burger buns, bagels and slice bread: 647 brand from Schmidt/old time has so much fiber and half the amount of net carbs of regular breads. No one can tell this is "lower carb" bread.
Flat bread and "lavash": Joseph bread has a flax and oat barn line that's VERY good. Again, no one can tell it's lower carb.
Tortillas: so many companies make low carb tortillas, they're generally all good. I prefer Ole extreme.
[Pasta] Al Dente has a line called Carba-nada. It has been a go to. It's the closest to regular pasta with a little more character and half the carbs and double the fiber.
Bonza has chickpea pasta that is 30 grams net carbs per serving. It's a little more squishy than regular pasta, but I like it quite a lot. They have ready mac and cheese boxes with decent macros if you restrict yourself to a single serving!
Explore Cuisine has different types of bean pastas. I like all of them! They all have a mild but distinct taste that can be a hit or miss depending on the dish. They're all VERY good on their own with some light sauce or garlic olive oil. They're very heavy on the protein so I often prefer them with no meat.
[Savory snacks] Beef/jerkey sticks (look at macros)
Olives! Several brands make "liquid free" snacking olives. My favorite is Mario
P3 protein snacks
Popcorn if you can not finished whole bag
Flavored almonds. Blue Diamond has a wide variety of non-boring almonds.
Any snacking cheese in individual packs (string, cheddar sticks, baby Belle.. so many!)
Quest protein chips have only 3 grams net carbs
[Sweet treats] NICK'S products. Ice crams and bars and other stuff too. I LOOoRRRVVVEE their peanut chocolate protein bar, it's basically a snickers bar but not as sweet. It's the very best!
Berries with reddit wip
KIND ice cream bars have decent macros!
Halo top ice cream (NOT the whole pint, and not the sorbet)
Skinny Dipped almonds. Espresso and lemon are my favorite!
Lily's chocolate
[Sugar alternatives] I'm a firm believer in diversity and moderation. I believe that having huge amounts of any type of sugar on the regular is not great. So I personally try to mix them up (including having regular sugar in moderation). But here's my two cents.
Monk fruit sugar: most similar to regular sugar. By far my favorite. People can't tell the difference between it and regular sugar. Generally haven't noticed any bad gut effects.
Allulose: not as sweet as sugar. Still good. 85% similar to regular sugar in taste.
Stevia: definitely has a weird aftertaste. Not my favorite but has its uses and great mixed with other sugars or fruit-heavy desserts.
Swerve: pretty alright. It's an erythritol mix which makes me bloated if I consume a lot of it. I use it frequently in small amounts or mixed with other sugars!
Xylitol: has a minty cooling effect. I only like it in icecream and gum. May cause bloating too.
Sucralose: there's been many studies showing its not the best for you. I DON'T avoid it like the plague, but would personally rather have regular sugar over sucralose.
[Quick meals/sides/lunches/snacks] Boca burgers (with 647 buns, mayo cheese and sugar free ketchup!) Just pop them in the microwave for 1:30 mins!
Cherry tomatos + fresh mozzarella + olive oil and balsamic + basil
Cucumber + cream cheese + everything seasoning
Trader joes crisp bread crackers + smoked salmon + cream cheese
[Breakfast, other than the obvious, EGGS <3] Pancakes and waffles, there's SO many brands that make low carb options. Our store has Birch Benders and it's pretty alright!
Avocado + hemp seeds + seasoning + lime (or even a splash of apple cider vinegar)
647 brand toast with a slice of cheddar cheese!
Cottage cheese (even the fruity ones are very low carb)
Cheese platter, sugar free jelly and sugar free peanut butter and crackers/low carb bread
[General cooking advice] If you can, join a service that delivers vegitables to you weekly. This will force you to cook at home and not let things go to waste and eat A LOT more vegetables.
A spiralizer is fun! Veggies are not a substitute for noodles, but they often work well in many dishes!
Cooking shredded cabbage in a very hot wok with soy sauce and garlic is a great base for Asian dishes. A regular pan would steam the cabbage, so it's not as good.
Spaghetti squash is your friend. You can poke holes in it and microwave it whole.
Air frier is another one of your best friends. They speed things up tremendously making it more likely for you to eat at home!
Cooking LOTS of tomatoes + garlic + onion + Italian seasoning + dump any other vegitable and protein you have available until the tomatoes really reduce, will ALWAYS result in a yummy meal. Topped with feta and pine nuts and olive oil? Yes please. Low carb bread works with this.
Any vegitable combination + any ground or shredded protein + a can of salsa + Mexican seasoning + (beans optional, they add fiber, protein and substance but also add carbs) make an excellent meal on its own OR in a low carb tortilla. Avocado and sour cream work on the side.
Salads with a hot protein on top feel more like a meal than an all cold salad. They're less boring too.
I hope this was useful, even little!

I look out in front of me, and perceive the sea lit up out to the horizon. I look around me: to my left and right, I see the limitless straight line of the beach, and behind it, the dunes -- all in space. With my gaze I make the space my own. The objects are clear and plain. I see the wind bend over to the ground, the reeds that keep the dunes in place.
I am at the center of this universe by means of my gaze, which sweeps across this space and lets me know everything in it. By combining these images of reality, I grasp it as a whole, and become a part of it as a result of my looking.
My sight constructs a universe for me. It reveals to me a directly perceivable reality composed of colorful, simple, harmonious images. But it also furnishes me with more subtle materials. I learn to read my brother’s or my enemy’s face. Transmitted images are superimposed on one another, and as a result, I now know that a given image belongs within a particular context of reality. It conjures up another image; I anticipate what I am going to see, but what is coming will in any case be located in space and will constitute part of reality -- deeper and hidden, in a sense, but still reality.
Such information is precise and pinpointed, and deals only with reality. Nothing else, no other dimension, is ever involved. …Sight has made me the center of the world because it situates me at the point from which I see everything, and causes me to see things relative to this point. My vision makes a circular sweep of space, working from this point: my point of view. But now I am tempted, as the center of the world, to act on this spectacle and transform this setting. What was missing in my vision was someone to act, and I am available.
Sight moves to action at the same time that it serves as the means of action. Again, without it, how could I act, since I wouldn’t even know what my hand was touching or what was within my reach? …I am a subject, not separated from what I look at. Rather, what I see becomes a part of me, as my action involves me in what I see. Images both permit and condition my action; they are always imperative. I lean out the window and look searchingly into the emptiness. Images of distance and depth thrust themselves on my consciousness. I know I mustn’t lean out any further.
The image defines and marks the boundaries of my action. The image does not induce my action, but establishes its conditions and possibilities. Without visual images my action is definitely blind, incoherent, and uncertain. Sight conveys certainties and pieces of information to me, as we have said. Such information is reliable. I perceive a gray ocean and an overcast skyline. This is unquestionable. The reality around me is a certainty in which I can be confident. It is neither incoherent nor deformed. I know, of course, that this is also something learned; there are no data coming directly from the senses, and the shapes and colors and distances I apprehend are perceptible to me because I learned them. My culture has furnished me with the very images I see. But however important this may be (and we must not push this idea too far!), it is still true that I see.
What a dreadful uneasiness takes hold of us when reality is submerged in fog…sight fails to furnish me with clear images and I can no longer act. The world loses its midpoint. It is off center because I cannot see it anymore. The center could be anywhere, but it is no longer located where I am.
In order for my sight to mislead me concerning reality, there must be some unusual phenomenon, like a mirage. The image is not ambiguous. This peach I am looking at is red and weighs heavily on the bending branch. This is absolutely certain. But the image is insignificant. It has no meaning in itself and must be interpreted. In the case of a fruit ripe for picking, the visual image gives me indisputable information, but if I stop there, nothing will happen. It must therefore be interpreted. In order to move from the vision of the fruit to "I should pick it" or "It can be picked," there must be an interpretation: an attribution of meaning to these real images of reality.
Another dimension must be added to sight: interpretation will come through speech. Thus the image contains within itself a deep contradiction. It is not ambiguous: it is coherent, reliable, and inclusive; but it is insignificant. It can have innumerable meanings, depending on culture, learning, or the intervention of some other dimension. For this reason I must learn to see, before looking at the image.
After seeing it, I must learn to interpret it. The image is clear, but this clarity does not imply certainty or comprehension. My certainty is limited to this directly perceived reality that my sight reveals to me. Nothing beyond that.
I call these images "vision" because they are connected with the other images I am accustomed to. I would be tempted to say in this case that the order is reversed. The visual image exists, and then I attribute a meaning to it; but the vision appears only as the illustration of a previously established meaning. No matter how insignificant it may be, the visual image is always rigorous, imperative, and irreversible. I saw what I saw. I cannot change the reality which is conveyed to me in this way, except through my action. There is no ambiguity at this point. Nor is there reversibility.
If I had only one "view" of my universe, I would be a participant in a totality which would be both terribly coherent and yet at the same time composed of fragments without any necessary relationship. The totality would be like a cloud of irrational dots which can form only the framework of an action, a change in the relationships between the points. But the cloud of dots cannot be used for understanding anything, because this pointillism of images is space but not duration. The image is present. It is only a presence. It bears witness to something "already there": the object I see was there before I opened my eyes.
I have a point of view, a location from which I see things, but it is situated within what I see and inseparable from it. Wherever I place myself, however I shift my position, I remain in the field of vision, I remain in the middle of what I see. I can never take my distance, act as if I were not present, or even begin to think independently of what I see.
At night, when I cannot see, a certain distance is established. This explains why the day’s events become so painful at night: the distance between me and the world around me allows for reflection and meditation. A flood of images overwhelms me, beckons me, and carries me along: an image I have seen follows immediately after the one I have just dismissed from my mind. I can never stop this movement of reality in space. I can never consider a given image like a diamond or a painting from which I can take my distance in order to be "myself," instead of being overwhelmed by the images composed of dots.
The image prevents me from taking my distance. And if I cannot establish a certain distance, I can neither judge nor criticize. Of course, I also feel pleasure or displeasure in what I see. I can find it beautiful or ugly. But this is not a critical process. No judgment is involved. Furthermore, what possible criticism or judgment can we make with respect to space and reality? In spite of the frailty we have all observed in a person’s testimony about what he has seen, everyone has the same certainty about anything he has seen. He has seen reality.
Sight involves a relationship with reality as established in space. It is an artificial construction. Medusa’s head transfixes whoever gazes at her. Whoever looks at the scenes on the shields of the Iliad is terror stricken. Sight introduces us to an unbearable shock. Reality when seen inspires horror. Terror is always visual. Horror stories play only on our visual sense and suggest representation.
In contrast, the spoken word can involve us in mystery or drama. It places us in situations of conflict and makes us conscious of tragedy. But it is never on its own terrifying or stupefying. We are dazed by sight -- by an image or a vision. The word takes us to the edge of terror only when descriptive and painting extremely precise images. Edgar Allan Poe’s short stories are an example. All the descriptions we have heard of Nazi death camps move us to revulsion and to a judgment that may be based more on strong feelings than anything else. The image of bulldozers pushing along mounds of skeletal corpses, which shortly before had been living beings, faces teetering from the machine’s pushing -- this image drawn from ‘Night and Fog’ moves us to abject horror. It terrifies us, because we see. Such terror results from the horror of reality.
Reality apprehended by sight is always unbearable, even when that reality is beauty. We have a horror of reality, perhaps because we depend on it so. Language, even when it is realistic, allows us to escape from this terrible reality. Sight locks us up with it and obliges us to look at it. There is no way out -- except by controlling and mastering the reality.
Images fall into a pattern with respect to each other, but sounds do not. Instead, sounds contradict each other and cancel each other out. I am listening to a Mozart concerto, and suddenly near me someone speaks. Or a visitor knocks at my door. Or someone starts noisily putting away dishes and silverware. Sounds produce incoherence. The noises I hear form no panorama of the world.
Alone among all other sounds there is one that is particularly important for us: the spoken word. It ushers us into another dimension: relationship with other living beings, with persons. The Word is the particularly human sound which differentiates us from everything else. In this connection a fundamental difference between seeing and hearing is immediately apparent. In seeing, the living being is one form among many. A human being has a special shape and color, but he is included with all the rest as part of the landscape: a discrete, moving speck. When I hear speech, however, the human being becomes qualitatively different from everything else.
The spoken word, even if it involves an essential proclamation or the thought of a genius, falls into the void, passes, and disappears, if it is not heard and recovered by someone. The ocean over there, even if no one contemplates it, remains what it is and what it was. I see it, and it produces a flurry of emotions in me. I leave. I go away, but it does not. The spoken sentence has sunk into nothingness; time has gone by, and there are no "frozen words" which can make themselves heard again later.
Thus speech is basically presence. It is something alive and is never an object. It cannot be thrown before me and remain there. Once spoken, the word ceases to exist, unless I have recovered it. Before it is spoken, the word places me in an expectant situation, in a future I await eagerly. The word does not exist on its own. It continues to exist only in its effect on the one who spoke it and on the one who recovered it. The word is never an object you can turn this way and that, grasp, and preserve for tomorrow or some distant day when you may have time to deal with it. The word exists now. It is something immediate and can never be manipulated. Either it exists or it doesn’t. It makes me what I am, establishes the speaking me and the listening me, so that my role is determined by the word itself rather than by its content. For the word to become an object, someone must transform it into writing. But then it is no longer speech. Yet even in that form, it requires time.
The word is, of necessity, spoken to someone. If no one is present, it is spoken to oneself or to God. It presupposes an ear; the Great Ear, if necessary. It calls for a response. Every word, even a swearword, an insult, an exclamation, or a soliloquy, begins a dialogue. The monologue is a dialogue in the future or the past, or else it is a dialogue incorporated into a monologue. Here again, time is involved. Dialogue develops according to a variable timetable, but dialogue cannot exist unless those engaging in it are inserted into time. Language is a call, an exchange. I avoid using the threadbare term "communication." It is not true that language exists only to communicate information.
Language never belongs to the order of evident things. It is a continuous movement between hiding and revealing. It makes of the play in human relationships something even more fine and complex than it would be without language. Language exists only for, in, and by virtue of this relationship.
Dialogue involves a certain distance. We must be separated as well as different. I do not speak to a person identical to me. I must have something to say which the other lacks, but he must also be different from me. Yet similarity is required as well. When Adam sees Eve he bursts into speech. He speaks because of her and for her. She was flesh of his flesh, bone of his bone; and yet different: a dissimilar similar person. Speech fills the infinite gap that separates us. But the difference is never removed.
Discourse begins again and again because the distance between us remains. I find I must repeatedly begin speaking again to restate what I have said. The result is an inevitable, yet rich and blessed, redundancy. The word is resumed and repeated because it is never fully explicit or an exact translation of what I have to say. It is never precisely received, never precisely understood.
The word reduced to the value of an algebraic formula with only one possible meaning would be useful for us in carrying out an identical superficial activity. But such language could never create meaning, and would never produce agreement and communication with another person. "Algebraic" language could never produce -- or suggest a story. Bees communicate pieces of information to each other, but do not produce anything like history.
The word can also obstruct and impede history, when mythical language immerses us in an ahistorical time that is repetitive and continually reduced to myth. Language is either historical or ahistorical, either a discourse on action to be undertaken or of a myth to listen to. According to the sort of language used, human history either arises and becomes a significant aspect of humanity’s existence, or else it remains on the level of everyday incoherence.
With insight, meaning becomes perfectly transparent. The other person’s words become mine; I receive them in my own mind. I experience utter intellectual delight, but a delight in my whole being as well, when I understand and am understood. The Word ushers us into time.
When I say that language normally deals with Truth rather than Reality, I only mean that there are two orders of knowledge, two kinds of references we use as human beings. There are references to the concrete, experienced reality around us, and others that come from the spoken universe. The spoken universe is our invention -- something we establish and originate by our words. We derive meaning and understanding from language, and it permits us to go beyond the reality of our lives to enter another universe, which we may call phantasmic, schizophrenic, imaginary, or any other name we choose.
I am certain that since the beginning, human beings have felt a pressing need to frame for themselves something different from the verifiable universe, and we have formed it through language. This universe is what we call truth.
The important thing is that the unique value of language lies in truth. Language is not bound to reality, but to its capacity to create this different universe, which you can call surreal, meta-real, or metaphysical. For the sake of convenience we will call it the order of truth. The word is the creator, founder, and producer of truth.
When it uses a loudspeaker and crushes others with its powerful equipment, when the television set speaks, the word is no longer involved, since no dialogue is possible. What we have in these cases is machines that use language as a way of asserting themselves. Their power is magnified, but language is reduced to a useless series of sounds which inspire only reflexes and animal instincts.
How often we have come up against a blank wall instead of a face, when the other person did not want to understand! How can we make him understand as long as he persists in that attitude? In reality, language is an extraordinary occurrence in which each person’s liberty is respected. I can oppose my word to the other person’s. Or I can turn a deaf ear. I remain free as I face someone who tries to define me, encircle me, or convince me.
In other words, of necessity I give my listener a choice to make. A situation where there is choice is a situation where there is freedom. But at the same time, I invite him to use the gift of liberty inherent in language, just as I have. He must speak in turn, consciously making use of his freedom. I invite him to start down the difficult road of self-knowledge and self-expression, of choice, self-exposure, and unveiling.
Language always involves the exercise of freedom. It is never mechanical, just as it is not an object! Subtle structural linguistic analyses are of course limited to texts; that is, to finite, fixed words rather than open-ended ones. Such analyses seem to account for everything…But they overlook one thing. Once the languages and lexicons, rhetorics, discourses, and narratives have been stripped of their mystery, one thing is left: language itself. It remains because it is history, and such linguistic analysis excludes history.
This is its second characteristic. The paradox, let us remember, is something situated beside or outside the doxa (opinion). The paradox is free of all doxa, but at the same time calls the doxa into question. Roland Barthes is right in showing that "the real instrument of censorship is the endoxa rather than the police."
Our civilization’s major temptation (a problem that comes from technique’s preponderant influence) is to confuse reality with truth. We are made to believe that reality is truth: the only truth. At the time of the controversy over universals, the realists believed that only truth is real. We have inverted the terms, believing that everything is limited to reality. We think that truth is contained within reality and expressed by it. Nothing more. Moreover, there is nothing left beyond reality any more. Nothing is Other; the Wholly Other no longer exists. Everything is reduced to this verifiable reality which is scientifically measurable and pragmatically modifiable. Praxis becomes the measure of all truth. Truth becomes limited to something that falls short of real truth. It is something that can be acted upon. The Word is related only to Truth. The image is related only to reality.
Of course, the word can also refer to reality! It can be perfectly pragmatic, used to command an action or to describe a factual situation. The word enters the world of concrete objects and refers to experiences of reality. It is the means of communication in everyday life, and as a result it fits precisely with all of reality. It conveys information about reality and takes part in the understanding of it. It can even create reality, producing effects that will become part of reality. Thus the word is ambivalent. But its specificity lies in the domain of truth, since this domain is not shared with anything else.
On the contrary, the image cannot leave the domain of reality. It is not ambivalent. At this point I can hear someone tempted to ask: "What is Truth?" I will carefully avoid answering by suggesting some specific content for the word. Such an answer would be challenged immediately, involving us in a long digression which would exceed my capacity. Without attempting this sort of definition, I can show what the object of truth can be, and this will serve to distinguish it clearly from reality. The very questions asked about truth can indicate its nature, replacing the answer that cannot be given. We can grant, then, that anything concerned with the ultimate destination of a human being belongs to the domain of Truth.
It does not matter if one can answer or not, nor does it matter whether the answer is personal or is objectified as philosophy or revelation. But when a person asks about his own life (consciously or unconsciously), then the real question of truth has been asked. And when anyone claims to have resolved it, he is lying.
When he tries to answer this question within the framework of reality alone, he has no answer to offer.
An individual can ask the question of truth and attempt to answer it only through language. The image, on the other hand, belongs to the domain of reality. It can in no way convey anything at all about the order of truth. It never grasps anything but an appearance or outward behavior. It is unable to convey a spiritual experience, a requirement of justice, a testimony to the deepest feelings of a person, or to bear witness to the truth. In all these areas the image will rely on a form. Images can convey a rite, and thus people have a tendency to confuse religious truth with religious rites.
An image can catch a psychological expression on someone’s face: ecstasy, for example. People will believe that they are seeing authentic faith, whereas all they have is a psychological state that can be utterly unrelated to faith. Such a state can be induced by a drug, for example. Faced with such a problem, those who identify reality with truth are so monumentally confused that they deny faith because a psychological state can be artificially induced! An image can show a body’s position, as in a photograph of clasped hands and bowed head, seeming to say that this is prayer. But in reality, no prayer is involved in this image; it could be only a joke. Even when no one is joking, an image is incapable of expressing the seriousness of truth.
…An image can report miracles, but only recorded miracles -- after they have taken place and grace has departed. The image can never penetrate as far as the holy place where the Word proclaims that an individual has become a new creation. The miracle is an expression of this new creation. No image is able to convey any truth at all. This explains in partly why all "spiritual" films are failures. When we insist on expressing spiritual matters this way through images, something other than truth is always perceived. Even more serious and alarming, truth tends to disappear behind all the lighting and makeup. It tends to vanish when squelched by images.
Our generation is characterized by the exclusive preeminence of reality, both at the factual level and in our preoccupations. We are moved in this direction by the marvels of technique, the prevailing tone of our time, the great concern about economic matters, etc. Our era is further characterized by an absolute identification of reality with truth. Marxism has prevailed absolutely in this matter, and science has finally convinced people that the only possible truth consists in knowing reality, and that the proof of truth is success relative to reality. Thus in the thinking of modern individuals the image is the means par excellence which communicates reality and truth at the same time.
This attitude concerning images can be held only if one confuses reality and truth to begin with, believing that a scientific hypothesis is true when it is confirmed by experiments. Such a hypothesis has nothing to do with truth, and is merely accurate. Of course, this preeminence of reality and this confusion coincide with the universal belief in the "fact," taken to be of ultimate value.
The image is an admirable tool for understanding reality. A documentary film of a riot enables us to penetrate the world of anger better than any speech could. But an image is explosive only if the spectator knows what it represents and if it is taken for what it is: a faithful representation of reality. An image becomes falsehood and illusion as soon as a person tries to see truth in it. At that moment, by means of an amazing reversal, the image loses all its explosive power.
When the image is understood to speak only of reality, however, it is explosive and terrible. At this point we discover a new problem. images in our society are always the product of a mechanical technique. Technique is truly an intermediary, since the universe of images is established for us by technique. But this is the equivalent of saying that we find ourselves in the presence of an artificial world, made by an outside force with artificial means. Therefore it is important to realize that stark reality is never conveyed to us in this universe of images. Instead we find a more or less arbitrary construction or reconstruction, with the result that we must constantly remind ourselves of the ambiguity behind the apparent objectivity of the image: it expresses a reality, but of necessity it presents us with an artifice. In this sense the image is deceptive: it passes itself off as reality when it is artifice; it pretends to be unilateral truth when it is a reflection of something that cannot be truth.

I look out in front of me, and perceive the sea lit up out to the horizon. I look around me: to my left and right, I see the limitless straight line of the beach, and behind it, the dunes -- all in space. With my gaze I make the space my own. The objects are clear and plain. I see the wind bend over to the ground, the reeds that keep the dunes in place.
I am at the center of this universe by means of my gaze, which sweeps across this space and lets me know everything in it. By combining these images of reality, I grasp it as a whole, and become a part of it as a result of my looking.
My sight constructs a universe for me. It reveals to me a directly perceivable reality composed of colorful, simple, harmonious images. But it also furnishes me with more subtle materials. I learn to read my brother’s or my enemy’s face. Transmitted images are superimposed on one another, and as a result, I now know that a given image belongs within a particular context of reality. It conjures up another image; I anticipate what I am going to see, but what is coming will in any case be located in space and will constitute part of reality -- deeper and hidden, in a sense, but still reality.
Such information is precise and pinpointed, and deals only with reality. Nothing else, no other dimension, is ever involved. …Sight has made me the center of the world because it situates me at the point from which I see everything, and causes me to see things relative to this point. My vision makes a circular sweep of space, working from this point: my point of view. But now I am tempted, as the center of the world, to act on this spectacle and transform this setting. What was missing in my vision was someone to act, and I am available.
Sight moves to action at the same time that it serves as the means of action. Again, without it, how could I act, since I wouldn’t even know what my hand was touching or what was within my reach? …I am a subject, not separated from what I look at. Rather, what I see becomes a part of me, as my action involves me in what I see. Images both permit and condition my action; they are always imperative. I lean out the window and look searchingly into the emptiness. Images of distance and depth thrust themselves on my consciousness. I know I mustn’t lean out any further.
The image defines and marks the boundaries of my action. The image does not induce my action, but establishes its conditions and possibilities. Without visual images my action is definitely blind, incoherent, and uncertain. Sight conveys certainties and pieces of information to me, as we have said. Such information is reliable. I perceive a gray ocean and an overcast skyline. This is unquestionable. The reality around me is a certainty in which I can be confident. It is neither incoherent nor deformed. I know, of course, that this is also something learned; there are no data coming directly from the senses, and the shapes and colors and distances I apprehend are perceptible to me because I learned them. My culture has furnished me with the very images I see. But however important this may be (and we must not push this idea too far!), it is still true that I see.
What a dreadful uneasiness takes hold of us when reality is submerged in fog…sight fails to furnish me with clear images and I can no longer act. The world loses its midpoint. It is off center because I cannot see it anymore. The center could be anywhere, but it is no longer located where I am.
In order for my sight to mislead me concerning reality, there must be some unusual phenomenon, like a mirage. The image is not ambiguous. This peach I am looking at is red and weighs heavily on the bending branch. This is absolutely certain. But the image is insignificant. It has no meaning in itself and must be interpreted. In the case of a fruit ripe for picking, the visual image gives me indisputable information, but if I stop there, nothing will happen. It must therefore be interpreted. In order to move from the vision of the fruit to "I should pick it" or "It can be picked," there must be an interpretation: an attribution of meaning to these real images of reality.
Another dimension must be added to sight: interpretation will come through speech. Thus the image contains within itself a deep contradiction. It is not ambiguous: it is coherent, reliable, and inclusive; but it is insignificant. It can have innumerable meanings, depending on culture, learning, or the intervention of some other dimension. For this reason I must learn to see, before looking at the image.
After seeing it, I must learn to interpret it. The image is clear, but this clarity does not imply certainty or comprehension. My certainty is limited to this directly perceived reality that my sight reveals to me. Nothing beyond that.
I call these images "vision" because they are connected with the other images I am accustomed to. I would be tempted to say in this case that the order is reversed. The visual image exists, and then I attribute a meaning to it; but the vision appears only as the illustration of a previously established meaning. No matter how insignificant it may be, the visual image is always rigorous, imperative, and irreversible. I saw what I saw. I cannot change the reality which is conveyed to me in this way, except through my action. There is no ambiguity at this point. Nor is there reversibility.
If I had only one "view" of my universe, I would be a participant in a totality which would be both terribly coherent and yet at the same time composed of fragments without any necessary relationship. The totality would be like a cloud of irrational dots which can form only the framework of an action, a change in the relationships between the points. But the cloud of dots cannot be used for understanding anything, because this pointillism of images is space but not duration. The image is present. It is only a presence. It bears witness to something "already there": the object I see was there before I opened my eyes.
I have a point of view, a location from which I see things, but it is situated within what I see and inseparable from it. Wherever I place myself, however I shift my position, I remain in the field of vision, I remain in the middle of what I see. I can never take my distance, act as if I were not present, or even begin to think independently of what I see.
At night, when I cannot see, a certain distance is established. This explains why the day’s events become so painful at night: the distance between me and the world around me allows for reflection and meditation. A flood of images overwhelms me, beckons me, and carries me along: an image I have seen follows immediately after the one I have just dismissed from my mind. I can never stop this movement of reality in space. I can never consider a given image like a diamond or a painting from which I can take my distance in order to be "myself," instead of being overwhelmed by the images composed of dots.
The image prevents me from taking my distance. And if I cannot establish a certain distance, I can neither judge nor criticize. Of course, I also feel pleasure or displeasure in what I see. I can find it beautiful or ugly. But this is not a critical process. No judgment is involved. Furthermore, what possible criticism or judgment can we make with respect to space and reality? In spite of the frailty we have all observed in a person’s testimony about what he has seen, everyone has the same certainty about anything he has seen. He has seen reality.
Sight involves a relationship with reality as established in space. It is an artificial construction. Medusa’s head transfixes whoever gazes at her. Whoever looks at the scenes on the shields of the Iliad is terror stricken. Sight introduces us to an unbearable shock. Reality when seen inspires horror. Terror is always visual. Horror stories play only on our visual sense and suggest representation.
In contrast, the spoken word can involve us in mystery or drama. It places us in situations of conflict and makes us conscious of tragedy. But it is never on its own terrifying or stupefying. We are dazed by sight -- by an image or a vision. The word takes us to the edge of terror only when descriptive and painting extremely precise images. Edgar Allan Poe’s short stories are an example. All the descriptions we have heard of Nazi death camps move us to revulsion and to a judgment that may be based more on strong feelings than anything else. The image of bulldozers pushing along mounds of skeletal corpses, which shortly before had been living beings, faces teetering from the machine’s pushing -- this image drawn from ‘Night and Fog’ moves us to abject horror. It terrifies us, because we see. Such terror results from the horror of reality.
Reality apprehended by sight is always unbearable, even when that reality is beauty. We have a horror of reality, perhaps because we depend on it so. Language, even when it is realistic, allows us to escape from this terrible reality. Sight locks us up with it and obliges us to look at it. There is no way out -- except by controlling and mastering the reality.
Images fall into a pattern with respect to each other, but sounds do not. Instead, sounds contradict each other and cancel each other out. I am listening to a Mozart concerto, and suddenly near me someone speaks. Or a visitor knocks at my door. Or someone starts noisily putting away dishes and silverware. Sounds produce incoherence. The noises I hear form no panorama of the world.
Alone among all other sounds there is one that is particularly important for us: the spoken word. It ushers us into another dimension: relationship with other living beings, with persons. The Word is the particularly human sound which differentiates us from everything else. In this connection a fundamental difference between seeing and hearing is immediately apparent. In seeing, the living being is one form among many. A human being has a special shape and color, but he is included with all the rest as part of the landscape: a discrete, moving speck. When I hear speech, however, the human being becomes qualitatively different from everything else.
The spoken word, even if it involves an essential proclamation or the thought of a genius, falls into the void, passes, and disappears, if it is not heard and recovered by someone. The ocean over there, even if no one contemplates it, remains what it is and what it was. I see it, and it produces a flurry of emotions in me. I leave. I go away, but it does not. The spoken sentence has sunk into nothingness; time has gone by, and there are no "frozen words" which can make themselves heard again later.
Thus speech is basically presence. It is something alive and is never an object. It cannot be thrown before me and remain there. Once spoken, the word ceases to exist, unless I have recovered it. Before it is spoken, the word places me in an expectant situation, in a future I await eagerly. The word does not exist on its own. It continues to exist only in its effect on the one who spoke it and on the one who recovered it. The word is never an object you can turn this way and that, grasp, and preserve for tomorrow or some distant day when you may have time to deal with it. The word exists now. It is something immediate and can never be manipulated. Either it exists or it doesn’t. It makes me what I am, establishes the speaking me and the listening me, so that my role is determined by the word itself rather than by its content. For the word to become an object, someone must transform it into writing. But then it is no longer speech. Yet even in that form, it requires time.
The word is, of necessity, spoken to someone. If no one is present, it is spoken to oneself or to God. It presupposes an ear; the Great Ear, if necessary. It calls for a response. Every word, even a swearword, an insult, an exclamation, or a soliloquy, begins a dialogue. The monologue is a dialogue in the future or the past, or else it is a dialogue incorporated into a monologue. Here again, time is involved. Dialogue develops according to a variable timetable, but dialogue cannot exist unless those engaging in it are inserted into time. Language is a call, an exchange. I avoid using the threadbare term "communication." It is not true that language exists only to communicate information.
Language never belongs to the order of evident things. It is a continuous movement between hiding and revealing. It makes of the play in human relationships something even more fine and complex than it would be without language. Language exists only for, in, and by virtue of this relationship.
Dialogue involves a certain distance. We must be separated as well as different. I do not speak to a person identical to me. I must have something to say which the other lacks, but he must also be different from me. Yet similarity is required as well. When Adam sees Eve he bursts into speech. He speaks because of her and for her. She was flesh of his flesh, bone of his bone; and yet different: a dissimilar similar person. Speech fills the infinite gap that separates us. But the difference is never removed.
Discourse begins again and again because the distance between us remains. I find I must repeatedly begin speaking again to restate what I have said. The result is an inevitable, yet rich and blessed, redundancy. The word is resumed and repeated because it is never fully explicit or an exact translation of what I have to say. It is never precisely received, never precisely understood.
The word reduced to the value of an algebraic formula with only one possible meaning would be useful for us in carrying out an identical superficial activity. But such language could never create meaning, and would never produce agreement and communication with another person. "Algebraic" language could never produce -- or suggest a story. Bees communicate pieces of information to each other, but do not produce anything like history.
The word can also obstruct and impede history, when mythical language immerses us in an ahistorical time that is repetitive and continually reduced to myth. Language is either historical or ahistorical, either a discourse on action to be undertaken or of a myth to listen to. According to the sort of language used, human history either arises and becomes a significant aspect of humanity’s existence, or else it remains on the level of everyday incoherence.
With insight, meaning becomes perfectly transparent. The other person’s words become mine; I receive them in my own mind. I experience utter intellectual delight, but a delight in my whole being as well, when I understand and am understood. The Word ushers us into time.
When I say that language normally deals with Truth rather than Reality, I only mean that there are two orders of knowledge, two kinds of references we use as human beings. There are references to the concrete, experienced reality around us, and others that come from the spoken universe. The spoken universe is our invention -- something we establish and originate by our words. We derive meaning and understanding from language, and it permits us to go beyond the reality of our lives to enter another universe, which we may call phantasmic, schizophrenic, imaginary, or any other name we choose.
I am certain that since the beginning, human beings have felt a pressing need to frame for themselves something different from the verifiable universe, and we have formed it through language. This universe is what we call truth.
The important thing is that the unique value of language lies in truth. Language is not bound to reality, but to its capacity to create this different universe, which you can call surreal, meta-real, or metaphysical. For the sake of convenience we will call it the order of truth. The word is the creator, founder, and producer of truth.
When it uses a loudspeaker and crushes others with its powerful equipment, when the television set speaks, the word is no longer involved, since no dialogue is possible. What we have in these cases is machines that use language as a way of asserting themselves. Their power is magnified, but language is reduced to a useless series of sounds which inspire only reflexes and animal instincts.
How often we have come up against a blank wall instead of a face, when the other person did not want to understand! How can we make him understand as long as he persists in that attitude? In reality, language is an extraordinary occurrence in which each person’s liberty is respected. I can oppose my word to the other person’s. Or I can turn a deaf ear. I remain free as I face someone who tries to define me, encircle me, or convince me.
In other words, of necessity I give my listener a choice to make. A situation where there is choice is a situation where there is freedom. But at the same time, I invite him to use the gift of liberty inherent in language, just as I have. He must speak in turn, consciously making use of his freedom. I invite him to start down the difficult road of self-knowledge and self-expression, of choice, self-exposure, and unveiling.
Language always involves the exercise of freedom. It is never mechanical, just as it is not an object! Subtle structural linguistic analyses are of course limited to texts; that is, to finite, fixed words rather than open-ended ones. Such analyses seem to account for everything…But they overlook one thing. Once the languages and lexicons, rhetorics, discourses, and narratives have been stripped of their mystery, one thing is left: language itself. It remains because it is history, and such linguistic analysis excludes history.
This is its second characteristic. The paradox, let us remember, is something situated beside or outside the doxa (opinion). The paradox is free of all doxa, but at the same time calls the doxa into question. Roland Barthes is right in showing that "the real instrument of censorship is the endoxa rather than the police."
Our civilization’s major temptation (a problem that comes from technique’s preponderant influence) is to confuse reality with truth. We are made to believe that reality is truth: the only truth. At the time of the controversy over universals, the realists believed that only truth is real. We have inverted the terms, believing that everything is limited to reality. We think that truth is contained within reality and expressed by it. Nothing more. Moreover, there is nothing left beyond reality any more. Nothing is Other; the Wholly Other no longer exists. Everything is reduced to this verifiable reality which is scientifically measurable and pragmatically modifiable. Praxis becomes the measure of all truth. Truth becomes limited to something that falls short of real truth. It is something that can be acted upon. The Word is related only to Truth. The image is related only to reality.
Of course, the word can also refer to reality! It can be perfectly pragmatic, used to command an action or to describe a factual situation. The word enters the world of concrete objects and refers to experiences of reality. It is the means of communication in everyday life, and as a result it fits precisely with all of reality. It conveys information about reality and takes part in the understanding of it. It can even create reality, producing effects that will become part of reality. Thus the word is ambivalent. But its specificity lies in the domain of truth, since this domain is not shared with anything else.
On the contrary, the image cannot leave the domain of reality. It is not ambivalent. At this point I can hear someone tempted to ask: "What is Truth?" I will carefully avoid answering by suggesting some specific content for the word. Such an answer would be challenged immediately, involving us in a long digression which would exceed my capacity. Without attempting this sort of definition, I can show what the object of truth can be, and this will serve to distinguish it clearly from reality. The very questions asked about truth can indicate its nature, replacing the answer that cannot be given. We can grant, then, that anything concerned with the ultimate destination of a human being belongs to the domain of Truth.
It does not matter if one can answer or not, nor does it matter whether the answer is personal or is objectified as philosophy or revelation. But when a person asks about his own life (consciously or unconsciously), then the real question of truth has been asked. And when anyone claims to have resolved it, he is lying.
When he tries to answer this question within the framework of reality alone, he has no answer to offer.
An individual can ask the question of truth and attempt to answer it only through language. The image, on the other hand, belongs to the domain of reality. It can in no way convey anything at all about the order of truth. It never grasps anything but an appearance or outward behavior. It is unable to convey a spiritual experience, a requirement of justice, a testimony to the deepest feelings of a person, or to bear witness to the truth. In all these areas the image will rely on a form. Images can convey a rite, and thus people have a tendency to confuse religious truth with religious rites.
An image can catch a psychological expression on someone’s face: ecstasy, for example. People will believe that they are seeing authentic faith, whereas all they have is a psychological state that can be utterly unrelated to faith. Such a state can be induced by a drug, for example. Faced with such a problem, those who identify reality with truth are so monumentally confused that they deny faith because a psychological state can be artificially induced! An image can show a body’s position, as in a photograph of clasped hands and bowed head, seeming to say that this is prayer. But in reality, no prayer is involved in this image; it could be only a joke. Even when no one is joking, an image is incapable of expressing the seriousness of truth.
…An image can report miracles, but only recorded miracles -- after they have taken place and grace has departed. The image can never penetrate as far as the holy place where the Word proclaims that an individual has become a new creation. The miracle is an expression of this new creation. No image is able to convey any truth at all. This explains in partly why all "spiritual" films are failures. When we insist on expressing spiritual matters this way through images, something other than truth is always perceived. Even more serious and alarming, truth tends to disappear behind all the lighting and makeup. It tends to vanish when squelched by images.
Our generation is characterized by the exclusive preeminence of reality, both at the factual level and in our preoccupations. We are moved in this direction by the marvels of technique, the prevailing tone of our time, the great concern about economic matters, etc. Our era is further characterized by an absolute identification of reality with truth. Marxism has prevailed absolutely in this matter, and science has finally convinced people that the only possible truth consists in knowing reality, and that the proof of truth is success relative to reality. Thus in the thinking of modern individuals the image is the means par excellence which communicates reality and truth at the same time.
This attitude concerning images can be held only if one confuses reality and truth to begin with, believing that a scientific hypothesis is true when it is confirmed by experiments. Such a hypothesis has nothing to do with truth, and is merely accurate. Of course, this preeminence of reality and this confusion coincide with the universal belief in the "fact," taken to be of ultimate value.
The image is an admirable tool for understanding reality. A documentary film of a riot enables us to penetrate the world of anger better than any speech could. But an image is explosive only if the spectator knows what it represents and if it is taken for what it is: a faithful representation of reality. An image becomes falsehood and illusion as soon as a person tries to see truth in it. At that moment, by means of an amazing reversal, the image loses all its explosive power.
When the image is understood to speak only of reality, however, it is explosive and terrible. At this point we discover a new problem. images in our society are always the product of a mechanical technique. Technique is truly an intermediary, since the universe of images is established for us by technique. But this is the equivalent of saying that we find ourselves in the presence of an artificial world, made by an outside force with artificial means. Therefore it is important to realize that stark reality is never conveyed to us in this universe of images. Instead we find a more or less arbitrary construction or reconstruction, with the result that we must constantly remind ourselves of the ambiguity behind the apparent objectivity of the image: it expresses a reality, but of necessity it presents us with an artifice. In this sense the image is deceptive: it passes itself off as reality when it is artifice; it pretends to be unilateral truth when it is a reflection of something that cannot be truth.

Hi, as I mentioned, I'm looking for a fic that takes place in OotP that I don't remember the name of. I do remember some specific pieces of the story that I will include. I also read this story of Ao3 if that helps narrow it down. In the story:

1. Harry is still dealing with Umbridge's blood quill which leads to him either falling or nearly into a coma.
2. George finds him after one of his sessions and brings unconscious Harry to the infirmary or McGonagall (maybe).
3. Harry and George are together.
4. Harry begins dabbling in spell craft and stitching shields together.
5. I think Harry has a conversation with Snape about not being his father and kind of blows up at him.
6. Sirius was alive in this story, and I don't believe that he died.
7. There is also a sequel to this story and the Dursleys' house is set on fire by Death Eaters. When the Order comes to get Harry, they bring him to Grimmauld.

I really hope this can kind of narrow down the story and someone is able to remember this fic. Thanks!

# Today In Phishstory - June 8th Brought to you by tiph-bot. Beep.
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Phish

Phish, Friday 06/08/2012 (11 years ago) DCU Center, Worcester, MA, USA
Gap Chart, Tour: 2012 Early Summer Tour
Set 1 : Free , Kill Devil Falls , Roses Are Free > Theme From the Bottom > Axilla > Julius , Bouncing Around the Room , Maze , Bathtub Gin
Set 2 : Down with Disease ¹ > Sand -> Nellie Kane , Mike's Song > Makisupa Policeman ² > Weekapaug Groove , Wading in the Velvet Sea , Also Sprach Zarathustra , Character Zero
Encore : The Oh Kee Pa Ceremony > Suzy Greenberg
1 Unfinished. 2 Keyword was "Sour Diesel."
Jamchart Notes:
Roses Are Free - A very nice melodic jam that turns dark develops as "Roses" proper is winding down.
Julius - Proving again that less is more (at least for "Julius"), Trey's nimble, amped-down playing provides interesting texture, and creates better suspension awaiting the inevitable re-build.
Bathtub Gin - In a bit of a nod to the old, pre-August '93 days, the jam begins with decelerating tempo and downward sloping melodies. At 7:30, the jam shifts into the more familiar, uptempo "modern" "Gin" jam. Cool version. Check out 11/16/91 if you doubt.
Also Sprach Zarathustra - Stellar 3.0 version. Trey's delicate soloing is inspired and fresh and Page fills in all the right gaps. Simply gorgeous.
Show Notes:
Mike teased Sundown in Bathtub Gin. Down with Disease was unfinished. Makisupa's keyword was "Sour Diesel." 2001 contained Sand teases from Fish and Get Up (I Feel Like Being a) Sex Machine and Mike's Song teases from Trey.
Listen now at Phish.in!
Phish, Wednesday 06/08/2011 (12 years ago) Darien Lake, Darien Center, NY, USA
Gap Chart, Tour: 2011 Early Summer Tour
Set 1 : Nellie Kane , Mellow Mood , Buffalo Bill , Kill Devil Falls , Wolfman's Brother , Rift , Undermind , Ride Captain Ride , It's Ice > Dog Faced Boy , Brian and Robert > 46 Days , Limb By Limb , Character Zero
Set 2 : Golden Age > Mike's Song > Fast Enough for You > Weekapaug Groove , What's the Use? > Theme From the Bottom > Backwards Down the Number Line > Also Sprach Zarathustra > Harry Hood
Encore : Good Times Bad Times
Jamchart Notes:
Weekapaug Groove - "Golden Age" teases are followed by a nice funky breakdown jam with great Page and Mike. At the end, Trey sustains a note which carries into "What's The Use."
Also Sprach Zarathustra - "Golden Age," "Happy Birthday," and "WTU?" teases worked in perfectly, along with a serious syncopated throwdown, make this one a must hear. Play this to impress others.
Harry Hood - A very solid jam, building from start to end, and thus in good company with 5/6/90, 11/30/95, 2/18/97, 8/8/98, and 11/27/09.
Show Notes:
Weekapaug contained Golden Age teases. Also Sprach Zarathustra contained Golden Age, Happy Birthday and What's the Use? teases. In the soundcheck (which was played on Kevin Shapiro's From the Archives #15(b) show on 7/1/11 from SBIX ), Funky Bitch contained alternate lyrics, Dream On contained a brief Stairway to Heaven tease and "Old Zealand" alternate lyrics, and The Pendulum had Two Princes quotes.
Listen now at Phish.in!
Phish, Thursday 06/08/1995 (28 years ago) The Delta Center, Salt Lake City, UT, USA
Gap Chart, Tour: 1995 Summer Tour
Set 1 : Don't You Want To Go? , Ha Ha Ha > Runaway Jim > Guelah Papyrus , Mound , Fast Enough for You , Reba ¹ , Prince Caspian ² , Chalk Dust Torture
Set 2 : Simple > Rift > Free > Bouncing Around the Room > Tweezer -> Lifeboy > Poor Heart > Julius
Encore : Good Times Bad Times
1 No whistling. 2 Debut.
Jamchart Notes:
Runaway Jim - After some "Third Stone From The Sun" (Hendrix) teases from Trey, this one gets out beyond the norm.
Prince Caspian - Debut includes a short instrumental bridge. The ending jam section and closing chords were added in 1996.
Tweezer - Another wacky "type II" version that is worth hearing if you're an aficionado of Phish improv.
Show Notes:
Runaway Jim contained Third Stone from the Sun teases. Reba did not have the whistling ending. This show marked the debut of Prince Caspian. Page teased The Sabre Dance in Tweezer. This gig was originally scheduled for the outdoor Wolf Mountain Amphitheatre in Park City; due to a late spring snowstorm, the day before the show took place it was moved to the indoor Delta Center.
Listen now at Phish.in!
Phish, Friday 06/08/1990 (33 years ago) 23 East Cabaret, Ardmore, PA, USA
Gap Chart, Tour: 1990 Tour
Set 1 : Foam > Bouncing Around the Room > You Enjoy Myself > Divided Sky , Uncle Pen , The Oh Kee Pa Ceremony > Suzy Greenberg > Run Like an Antelope
Set 2 : Possum , My Sweet One > Bathtub Gin > Tweezer , I Didn't Know ¹ , Mike's Song > I Am Hydrogen > Weekapaug Groove
1 Fish on trombone.
Show Notes:
I Didn't Know featured Fish on trombone.
Listen now at Phish.in!
Phish, 1989-06-08 The Quad, Hobart College, Geneva, NY, USA
Setlist: https://phish.net/setlists/phish-june-08-1989-the-quad-hobart-college-geneva-ny-usa.html
Tour: 1989 Tour
Show Notes: Phish played an outdoor party, complete with a beer moat. One fan in attendance recalls hearing Peaches en Regalia, as well as a Zeppelin cover (possibly Good Times Bad Times).

Trey Anastasio

Trey Anastasio Band, 2003-06-08 Memorial Auditorium, Burlington, VT, USA
Setlist: https://phish.net/setlists/trey-anastasio-june-08-2003-memorial-auditorium-burlington-vt-usa.html
Tour: TAB - The Dectet Summer 2003 Tour
Show Notes: This was a headlining performance of the Burlington Discover Jazz Festival. The Unknown Blues Band opened, with special guest Joey Sommerville.
Trey Anastasio Band, 2002-06-08 Deer Creek, Noblesville, IN, USA
Setlist: https://phish.net/setlists/trey-anastasio-june-08-2002-deer-creek-music-center-noblesville-in-usa.html
Tour: TAB - The Dectet Summer 2002 Tour
Show Notes:
Vermont Jazz All-Stars, 1999-06-08 Higher Ground, Winooski, VT, USA
Setlist: https://phish.net/setlists/trey-anastasio-june-08-1999-higher-ground-winooski-vt-usa.html
Tour: Not Part of a Tour
Show Notes:

John Fishman

Jazz Mandolin Project, 2004-06-08 The Fox Theatre, Boulder, CO, USA
Setlist: https://phish.net/setlists/jon-fishman-june-08-2004-the-fox-theatre-boulder-co-usa.html
Tour: Fish - Jazz Mandolin Project Summer 2004 Tour
Show Notes:

Page McConnell

Page McConnell, 2007-06-08 The Orange Peel, Asheville, NC, USA
Setlist: https://phish.net/setlists/page-mcconnell-june-08-2007-the-orange-peel-asheville-nc-usa.html
Tour: Page McConnell Spring & Summer 2007 Tour
Show Notes: After "Maid Marian," Page gave a shout out to the people at the Moog Factory and then followed up with a short demonstration of his Moog.

Other

Anastasio, Gordon & Masefield, 1993-06-08 WVPS Studios, Burlington, VT, USA
Setlist: https://phish.net/setlists/guest-appearance-june-08-1993-wvps-studios-burlington-vt-usa.html
Tour: Not Part of a Tour
Show Notes: This performance for Vermont Public Radio featured Trey on guitar, Mike on bass and Jamie Masefield on mandolins. There is no known setlist or circulating recording.

Please read the whole post.
Hopeless romantic here looking to hopefully find the one! Looking to find the one. I'm hoping to find someone I can stay at home with and go out to the beach, go out to places with, learn to ballroom dance, have a picnic date, stay in during a rainy night and watch movies/ tv shows together. Looking for the cliche moments from rom-coms but also more 😊. I'm also willing to chat/ hangout to be friends before we start a relationship. We can watch a movie, tv show, anime together online if you don't live near by.
Looking for someone who is open minded. 22-33 (might be open to anyone older if we vibe). Someone who is willing to meet up later in the future. I'm fine with someone who smokes Marijuana but no other drugs or cigarettes. Can be from anywhere.
https://imgur.com/a/raBNEpX
A little about me:
My name is Felipe. I'm Hispanic, male, age 27, 5'9". I have photos on my profile. I'm chubby. I'm introverted at first but the longer you get to know me then I become more extroverted. I love fall/autumn weather. Currently studying architecture design. I hope to construct buildings for families in need of a home in the future. I have big ambitious goal for my career. I speak Spanish.
I'm into the arts: I love to draw, paint and create all sorts of art.
I love to play video games: All time favorite game is Skyrim, but I like to play games like BF2042, Minecraft, Smash Bros, Zelda, etc.
I also, really love to watch movies, anime, tv shows, etc: some of my favorite movies are Trick r Treat, The Dark Night, Interstellar, The Exorcist, 5 year engagement, Forgetting Sarah Marshall, Harry Potter series, lord of the rings series, 10 things I hate about you, the office, the Addams family, Wednesday and many more. Favorite genres are horror and rom coms ("do you like cheese?"😄).
My favorite type of music is all genres of rock and electronic music, classical, movie music, game music, culture based music, anime music. I rarely hear rap, hip-hop, and country. Some artist I listen to is Avenged Sevenfold, Apashe, Mozart, El tri, Queen, Hans Zimmer.
My favorite holiday is Halloween. 🎃
I live in the Washington, United States. I dont smoke cigarettes. I smoke cannabis only socially (maybe like 3 or 4 times a year). I'm fine if you smoke but occasionally like me. I casually drink socially but I'm not dependent on it to have a fun time. I actually prefer having fun without the need of drinks. I love all animals 🙂. I'm vaccinated. PLEASE add "ghost" in your response so I know that you read my whole post.
This is a little bit about myself but the more we talk then the more you'll get to know me. Send me a chat if interested! I'm usually respond quickly if I'm not doing anything at that time.

Please read the whole post.
Hopeless romantic here looking to hopefully find the one! Looking to find the one. I'm hoping to find someone I can stay at home with and go out to the beach, go out to places with, learn to ballroom dance, have a picnic date, stay in during a rainy night and watch movies/ tv shows together. Looking for the cliche moments from rom-coms but also more 😊. I'm also willing to chat/ hangout to be friends before we start a relationship. We can watch a movie, tv show, anime together online if you don't live near by.
Looking for someone who is open minded. 21-33 (might be open to anyone older if we vibe). Someone who is willing to meet up later in the future. I'm fine with someone who smokes Marijuana but no other drugs or cigarettes. Can be from anywhere.
https://imgur.com/a/raBNEpX
A little about me:
My name is Felipe. I'm Hispanic, male, age 27, 5'9". I have photos on my profile. I'm chubby. I'm introverted at first but the longer you get to know me then I become more extroverted. I love fall/autumn weather. Currently studying architecture design. I hope to construct buildings for families in need of a home in the future. I have big ambitious goal for my career. I speak Spanish.
I'm into the arts: I love to draw, paint and create all sorts of art.
I love to play video games: All time favorite game is Skyrim, but I like to play games like BF2042, Minecraft, Smash Bros, Zelda, etc.
I also, really love to watch movies, anime, tv shows, etc: some of my favorite movies are Trick r Treat, The Dark Night, Interstellar, The Exorcist, 5 year engagement, Forgetting Sarah Marshall, Harry Potter series, lord of the rings series, 10 things I hate about you, the office, the Addams family, Wednesday and many more. Favorite genres are horror and rom coms ("do you like cheese?"😄).
My favorite type of music is all genres of rock and electronic music, classical, movie music, game music, culture based music, anime music. I rarely hear rap, hip-hop, and country. Some artist I listen to is Avenged Sevenfold, Apashe, Mozart, El tri, Queen, Hans Zimmer.
My favorite holiday is Halloween. 🎃
I live in the Washington, United States. I dont smoke cigarettes. I smoke cannabis only socially (maybe like 3 or 4 times a year). I'm fine if you smoke but occasionally like me. I casually drink socially but I'm not dependent on it to have a fun time. I actually prefer having fun without the need of drinks. I love all animals 🙂. I'm vaccinated. PLEASE add "ghost" in your response so I know that you read my whole post.
This is a little bit about myself but the more we talk then the more you'll get to know me. Send me a chat if interested! I'm usually respond quickly if I'm not doing anything at that time.

Please read the whole post.
Hopeless romantic here looking to hopefully find the one! Looking to find the one. I'm hoping to find someone I can stay at home with and go out to the beach, go out to places with, learn to ballroom dance, have a picnic date, stay in during a rainy night and watch movies/ tv shows together. Looking for the cliche moments from rom-coms but also more 😊. I'm also willing to chat/ hangout to be friends before we start a relationship. We can watch a movie, tv show, anime together online if you don't live near by.
Looking for someone who is open minded. 21-33 (might be open to anyone older if we vibe). Someone who is willing to meet up later in the future. I'm fine with someone who smokes Marijuana but no other drugs or cigarettes. Can be from anywhere.
https://imgur.com/a/raBNEpX
A little about me:
My name is Felipe. I'm Hispanic, male, age 27, 5'9". I have photos on my profile. I'm chubby. I'm introverted at first but the longer you get to know me then I become more extroverted. I love fall/autumn weather. Currently studying architecture design. I hope to construct buildings for families in need of a home in the future. I have big ambitious goal for my career. I speak Spanish.
I'm into the arts: I love to draw, paint and create all sorts of art.
I love to play video games: All time favorite game is Skyrim, but I like to play games like BF2042, Minecraft, Smash Bros, Zelda, etc.
I also, really love to watch movies, anime, tv shows, etc: some of my favorite movies are Trick r Treat, The Dark Night, Interstellar, The Exorcist, 5 year engagement, Forgetting Sarah Marshall, Harry Potter series, lord of the rings series, 10 things I hate about you, the office, the Addams family, Wednesday and many more. Favorite genres are horror and rom coms ("do you like cheese?"😄).
My favorite type of music is all genres of rock and electronic music, classical, movie music, game music, culture based music, anime music. I rarely hear rap, hip-hop, and country. Some artist I listen to is Avenged Sevenfold, Apashe, Mozart, El tri, Queen, Hans Zimmer.
My favorite holiday is Halloween. 🎃
I live in the Washington, United States. I dont smoke cigarettes. I smoke cannabis only socially (maybe like 3 or 4 times a year). I'm fine if you smoke but occasionally like me. I casually drink socially but I'm not dependent on it to have a fun time. I actually prefer having fun without the need of drinks. I love all animals 🙂. I'm vaccinated. PLEASE add "ghost" in your response so I know that you read my whole post.
This is a little bit about myself but the more we talk then the more you'll get to know me. Send me a chat if interested! I'm usually respond quickly if I'm not doing anything at that time.

My favorite is probably how CoS and HBP mirror each other very much, and then inside book 6, this glorious little ripple of Dumbledore telling Harry on the way to see Slughorn that he needn’t be scared, because Harry is with him. Then near the end of the book Dumbledore says he is not scared because he is with Harry. It’s a glorious “open at the close” moment where suddenly Harry steps into the next phase of his journey as the Chosen One. Dumbledore’s power is concluding. Harry’s awakens further. (I’d argue his power only ever substantially increases again when he chooses to lay down his own life).
GIVE ME YOUR FAVORITES, PLEASE!

So I recently watched a video on DC character Timothy Hunter (British boy wizard with similar aesthetic + pet owl) that sent me down a rabbit hole of "Harry Potter-like characters" that came before the Harry Potter series, and thought I'd just share what I found. From latest to earliest:
Summer Magic: The Journal of Luke Kirby (1998 until 1995; comic by Alan Mckenzie)

Due to his mother being sick, Luke goes to live with his Uncle Elias in British village Lunstead in 1962. His uncle turns out to be a magician and takes on Luke as his apprentice. But there's a mysterious monster in the woods hunting people that Luke will have to defeat. And even more in the future on his way to becoming the greatest alchemist.

Fun Fact: Late-1990s, the series was almost brought to the tv screen, but McKenzie refused to sign his rights to Luke away. So the character faded out of public eye by the time Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone was released (1998). ^{Somewhere there's an alternate timeline where movies of Luke Kirby was made instead of Harry Potter.}
Wizard's Hall by Jane Yolen (published 1991)

Henry, nicknamed Thornmallow by his new peers, is sent by his mother to a magical school for young wizards... but his spellwork abilities (or lack thereof) could use some practice. He must save his new friends, fulfill an ancient prophecy, and help overthrow a powerful, evil wizard.

That rings a bell. Or more like if Neville had been the main character (in the sense of his bad luck with magic when he first started). But even just from the book cover, I really wanna read this.
Krabat by German author Ottfried Preußler (published in 1971).

"Krabat, a twelve-years old orphan, lives homeless in 16th century Saxony near the border between current Germany and -Poland. One night, he has a dream where a crow tells him trice that he should go to the black mill. Krabat agrees, hoping to find food and a new home. He is welcomed by the miller who tells him that this mill is a school of magic. Krabat begins his (hard) education as a miller and as a wizard."

There's an evil wizard he must defeat, and he is also 17 years old when the story ends. However, it's bloodiedarker and the magic system is very different: occult-based black magic. Also based off of Krabat from Sorbian folklore?
A Wizard of Earthsea by Ursula K. Le Guin (Parnassus, 1968)

"A boy with unusual aptitude for magic is recognized, and sent to a special school for wizards. On his first day, Ged encounters two other students, one of whom becomes his best friend, and the other, a haughty aristocratic rival. Ged later receives a scar in his struggle with a demonic shadow which can possess people."

His characterization is quite different from Harry. Ged starts off arrogant and prideful (unlike Harry who is quite humble) but changes for the better. And SPOILERS AHEAD!!! Since Ged wins by becoming 'whole' with his demonic half?, I almost imagine him as if Tom Riddle were the protagonist instead but also his own enemy, battling to recombine his soul... Though there's enough parallels between Harry and Tom that Harry technically defeats "who" he himself could have become at his worst, aka Voldemort.
There were some others, but these were the ones that stood out most of me. I gotta ask:

• I'm fascinated by obscurer, older works. Any other books that came pre-Harry Potter that seemed relatively similar (wizard boy + wizarding school + evil to defeat)?
• Anyone have experience with the above stories; did you like them?
• And are there any slash HP fanfic that deviate from the usual mold and embody the above stories' differences somehow:
  • Summer Magic (Harry as apprentice in alchemy to someone like Sirius, or a monster hunter?)
  • Wizard's Hall (Harry is hopeless at magic to start/ doesn't have a reputation as the BWL, or Neville's POV?)
  • Krabat (darker, more occult magical system, or a different place in Europe than Britain?)
  • A Wizard of Earthsea (Harry starts off prideful/jerkish but grows as a person; I need a Drarry rivalry where he's as much a prideful prick as Draco in everything but blood-status stat!)

After figuring out what theories I believe, I decided to make a Timeline of all my ideas. This is Part 1 covering Fredbear's to the MCI. This timeline also incorporates StitchlineGames and the Tales stories. Until all the books release, I will assume that all the Tales stories are in continuity. I'm gonna start with the creation of Fredbear's Family Diner as everything before is essentially headcanon aside from the existence of a Fredbear's Singin' Show but that isn't super relevant. Feel free to ask questions in the comments. The next part I'll try to cover everything from the aftermath of the MCI to FNAF 4's nightmares.
Henry Emily and William Afton come together to create Fredbear's Family Diner containing two springlock animatronics, Fredbear and Spring Bonnie. There will later be a Security Puppet added to the location to look after Henry's daughter, Charlie. This is the location the Security Breach posters are from.
William has a family at this point which is shown in the Staff Bot Family. The members consist of William Afton, Clara Afton (placeholder name), Michael Afton, Garrett Afton (placeholder name), and Elizabeth Afton. William had quit his job to work on Fredbear's with Henry which Clara doesn't approve of as she worries that it won't be successful and that they won't have enough money to support their kids. Clara and William eventually divorce and somehow William gets custody. William is not the best father and is abusive towards his kids as seen in the trilogy novels with how he treats Elizabeth and as will be seen when we go through this Timeline. All this is implied by the Afton Family Staff Bot unused lines and Vanessa's past in the Security Breach CDs that seem to be parallels to the Afton Family.
It's implied by Vanessa's past that after William got custody of the kids, Clara killed herself.
William starts having a drinking problem over the death of his wife, the only person he actually cared about as he's shown as neglectful towards his kids and sometimes even abusive. William is kicked out of Jr's and, still drunk, drives to Fredbear's where he sees Henry's daughter had been locked outside by some bullies. William, not entirely thinking straight and envious of Henry's perfect family, decides to take his anger out on Charlie, killing her. After realizing what he's done, he drives away. However, the Security Puppet had made it's way outside, becoming drenched in the rain and breaks down right after reaching Charlie. Charlie's soul possesses the animatronic.
The wickedness of William manifests into Shadow Freddy, a shadowy version of the mascot of Fredbear's, the location Charlie died at. Shadow Freddy lures Garrett to Fredbear's where he mistakes Shaodw Feeddy as Fredbear. Once at Fredbear's, he sees Charlie's body and assumes Fredbear had killed Charlie, leading to his fear of the animatronics. Meanwhile, William arrives back home to find that his son had run away and promises that he'll be sorry once they return
Inspite of the tragedy, Fazbear Entertainment opens Freddy Fazbear's Pizza which quickly grows in popularity with a cartoon, plushies, masks, and figurines releasing of the characters that year. Fredbear also gets a redesign replacing the black hat and bowtie with a purple hat and bowtie, as well as making him more yellow. Spring Bonnie also gets a redesign, thos time having a buck teeth and little bunny tail out the back. The original versions of Fredbear and Spring Bonnie are used at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza.
As buisness is booming, William started to notice some weird things happening with the Security Puppet that has been decommissioned, it's starting weirdly when he's present, like it's aware, it also seems to be able to go anywhere Inspite of it's programming. This only started happened AFTER Charlie died, something was definitely up. He theorizes that it The Puppet may be possessed in some way by Charlie. If this is true, William could uncover the secret of immortality. So, William gets to work on figuring out how exactly it all works. He theorizes that it may have something to do with the emotions that Charlie felt when she was killed, fear and agony. But, he needed a test subject, someone with a lot of fear towards the animatronics. Luckily for him, his son had just began to fear Fredbear, he didn't know why, but he could use this to his advantage.
He moved his family to a house closer to Fredbear's and kept the old house in the woods as a test house. He placed animatronics with illusion disks that would make the viewer see nightmarish versions of these characters. William placed cameras around the house and started his plan. Every night he would take Garrett from their house near Fredbear's and place him in the previous house. He would then wake Garrett up and let the experiments begin. William didn't care that he was torturing his son, it was all in the name of making himself immortal, which is all he cared about. This torture would continue night after night until Garrett was convinced the animatronics would catch him and eat him. It didn't help that he accidentally saw someone being suited up in the mascot costumes and thought it was the spring characters eating people. These nightmares are shown to have actually happened at some point in the Timeline by Sister Location.
Because William was stuck in his own experiments, Michael had to look after Garrett and Elizabeth. Michael had it rough, his father neglected him and his mother was dead, and it didn't help that he had to essentially babysit his crybaby brother that wouldn't shut up about animatronics trying to eat him. At least he didn't have to deal with Elizabeth too much, she was off at daycare most of the time anyways, but Garrett was too old for that. Mike started taking his anger out on his brother, scaring him with the Foxy mask. He found joy in his brother's tears of fear and continued to do this.
William saw what Mike was doing, but instead if stopping it, he allowed it, this would help increase his son's fear, making experimentation that much easier, and he was already seeing results from his tests on emotions. He decided to turn his son's bullying into an experiment. He placed cameras in the Fredbear Plush that Garrett had and a speaker, using it to watch and talk to Garrett. He pretended to be a friend but was really just trying to scare Garrett by doing things like reminding him of what he saw and telling him his brother was waiting to scare him but not where. Sister Location and some of the Frights stories heavily implies William is the Fredbear Plush in the first 4 minigames
As Garrett's birthday came closer and closer, William forced him to have his birthday at Fredbear's despite his objections to it. As the day came closer and closer, the bullying got worse and worse until the day of the party. Michael had brought his friends and wanted to have some fun with his brother. After some mild teasing, him and his friends took Garrett up to Fredbear to give him a big kiss. However, his head got stuck in Fredbear's mouth, and as Garrett wiggled around to get out, the group just laughed and laughed and laughed until the animatronic malfunctioned, crushing his head. The boys stopped laughing and stared in horror. They quickly tried to think of excuses, "He tripped and fell on Fredbear's teeth. Not our fault." But it was their fault.
Garrett was taken to the hospital and was dying. Michael apologized to his brother who could hear all of it but then he heard the voice of his plushie but it sounded different, yet familiar. It was Charlie, she had came to help Garrett, promising to put him back together, but she doesn't know how, but she'll find a way. After Garrett flatlined, his soul possessed the only metal near him, the Fredbear Plush. William moved the Fredbear Plush to the underground facility where it would stay for a while, not knowing it carried the soul of his son.
Edwin Murray had been working for Fazbear Entertainment since September of 1982 and was helping create the animatronics for other restaurants while also looking after his son, David. He decides to create a robot to look after David for him and spends the next 22 days creating the Mimic. The Mimic starts to mimic David, pretending he was holding the same Tiger plushie David had, being able to play patty cake, learn David's made up sign language, play catch, etc. Soon Mimic started doing more than just mimicking, it started responding and Edwin feels confident enough to leave David in Mimic's care.
A few days later, David goes to play outside, waiting for his dad but Edwin thanks Mimic will take care of him while he wakes up. However, when he gets outside, he sees David chasing the ball into the street where he is hit by a white van, killing him. For the next 2 weeks, Edwin mourns David's death before getting so mad at Mimic for mimicking David that he destroys it, infusing his agony with Mimic, an action which would have unforeseen consequences.
January of 1985, Dominic, Harry, and Glen are sent to Edwin's factory to clean up the mess Edwin left and make repairs after Edwin had vanished. They learn of a team that was sent in December to do the same thing, with that team finding the Mimic endo and repairing it, giving it legs. The trio find the bodies of the previous team mangled in the fridge with one of them hanging with his entrails spilling out. The trio are then picked off by the Mimic in different costumes, first is Harry who gets his brain pulled out, then there's Glen who gets his head slammed into the brick wall, finally there's Dominic who gets his trachea pulled out.
It's now summer of 1985, the Springlock Suits have been discontinued thanks to a failure that happened at one of the sister locations. Fredbear and Spring Bonnie are kept in the building but are told not to be worn. William disregards this, wanting to try another experiment. He thinks that if he were to kill someone and stuff them into an Endoskeleton that it would cause that person to possess the suit. So, William does exactly that. His first victim is Susie who recently had a dog get runover by a car, she's not exactly having the best day. So, William thinks she's an easy target. He dresses up in the Spring Bonnie suit and goes to Susie, telling her that her dog is still alive and that all she has to do is follow him to where he is. Susie follows Spring Bonnie, happy to see her dog only to be killed by William who stuffs her body into Chica.
Next victim is Jeremy whose parents left him alone at Freddy's. He tells him that he can help find his parents, luring him into the Safe Room and stuffing him into Bonnie.
Next victim is Gabriel who is having his 7th birthday party. He's struggling with homework, so William decides to help him, leading him into the Safe Room where he's stuffed into Freddy.
Next is Fritz who he tells about his friends that are all having a party in the Safe Room without him and that it'd be a shame if he was left out. He lures Fritz to the back and stuffs him in Foxy.
At this point, people are starting to catch on that kids are going missing. "Where's Susie?" "Where's Gabriel?" "Where's Fritz?" In the chaos, William takes another victim, Cassidy, she practically ran right into him. She was stuffed into Fredbear.
Finally, there was Andrew, William was specifically brutal with this one. Throwing a bag over his head, knocking him out, and dragging him into the Safe Room where he's stuffed into the only other suit, Spring Bonnie.
Without a suit, William is spotted leaving the Safe Room on camera and becomes a key suspect in a the case of 5 missing kids. Andrew was never reported missing, likely he had no family to report him missing, just some kid in the wrong place at the wrong time. The police knew it was William, there was no way it wasn't, but they couldn't find the bodies and William seemingly had no motive. Why would the owner of Freddy's do something like this at risk of losing their company? The risk didn't make sense. William also seemed very helpful during the investigation, getting another employee arrested, one that was convicted. Either this man was guilty or someone did one hell of a frame up.
This entire event was witnessed by one of the many Mimic robots which caused the program to start Mimicking what happened in the MCI, leading to the shutdown of the project.
All this info on the MCI is shown throughout the games and books but mainly the specifics are only really shown in Fruity Maze, Toy Chica Highschool Years, Pizza Party, and Into The Pit with the order largely coming from the Mangle's Quest code and Security Breach balloons.

Butcher seems to love to mirror myths and legend and power-scaling in regards to Harry and some of his characters. After Changes, along with his power-up as Winter Knight, his overall power has increased. While many could contribute this to his maturation of a wizard and training and such I believe that it is his near-meeting with death that may be propelling him. In Norse legend, Odín hung from the branches of the world tree for 9 days and 9 nights but Harry… Harry lay dying at the roots of Demonreach for 6 months. Has Harry awakened something dormant while his soul was on walk about? I think so, something that will become more important as we learn more about his powers as a Starborn and beyond. This power up may even put his raw strength onto another level of magnitude, allowing him to draw more energy to efficiently shapeshift and more in the future. Thoughts?

I am having the hardest time finding 1/4” steel for the offset I am planning on building. I know a lot of folks use old propane tanks but the only thing I can find anywhere near me is way bigger than I need; thus, way more than I want to pay. I have finally found someone selling some steel pipe in the length that I’m wanting but it’s only 1/8” thick. I live in eastern NC so fairly warm most of the year. Is 1/8” simply too thin for constructing an offset? Thanks y’all.

In honor of Pride month, this June, I will be documenting the cases of LGBTQ+ unidentified persons. This week's case is Chambers County Doe, a likely transgender or intersex woman found dead in Texas. Note: She/her pronouns will be used throughout this write-up. - On a hot spring day at the end of May 1986, a Texan man set out for a round of can collecting on the beach near the tiny town of High Island, Texas, hoping to turn a profit from recycling them. Instead of finding trash, however, he found something much worse: the mummified body of a person lying dead on the beach. The man called law enforcement, who confirmed the discovery and transported the deceased to nearby Harris County, the home of Houston, whose medical examiner's office they believed would be more qualified to help.
Medical examiners estimated that the body belonged to a thirty to forty-five-year-old woman of undetermined ancestry (early reports list her as possibly Black, but contemporary records list her as white), and she had been deceased for almost two months before the can collector found her, though they were unable to determine what might have caused her death. She had shoulder-length hair dyed auburn hair and wore a long white floral print sundress over a white bra and a pair of brown tights. Jane Doe had no tattoos or scars (excluding her doubly pierced earlobes), though investigators hoped her loved ones would recognize her distinctive teeth, which included a front tooth covering an incisor and several fillings. No missing person reports matched her description, and the news of her discovery was overshadowed in the local news by a nearby murder case. Even after releasing a sketch by renowned forensic artist Karen Taylor, Chambers County was no closer to knowing her identity. With Jane Doe's case being cold for so many years, investigators attempted to obtain a DNA profile from her remains to put into CODIS, the American National DNA database. In 2023, they successfully managed to sequence her DNA, which revealed that Jane Doe had XY chromosomes. Her NAMUS file now notes that she was 'genetically male' but 'likely identified as female', While there were far fewer transgender individuals during the eighties, stemming from stigmatization and lack of available resources, queer communities had sizable transgender populations. Since being transgender was so stigmatized, many people chose to live in 'stealth', or completely conceal their trans identity and cut off those who knew them prior to their transition, in hopes of avoiding violence and discrimination. Keeping this in mind, it's very possible that if Jane Doe was reported missing, it could have been under her birth sex and past name, if she was even in contact with her loved ones at all. Others have hypothesized that Jane Doe may have had an intersex condition known as Congenital Androgen Insensitivity Syndrome, a disorder wherein the body is unable to process androgenic hormones despite having XY chromosomes. Exposure to androgens in-utero is what leads to the masculinization of the body, so those with this condition often present externally female, and may not realize they were intersex until puberty when typical puberty fails to occur. Those with CAIS are, on average, taller than women without the condition, which, in my personal opinion, does not seem to coincide with Jane Doe's height of around sixty inches (approx. one hundred and fifty centimeters).
Following the development of a DNA profile, authorities were able to rule out three individuals as possible identities for Jane Doe: Bruce Walls, missing from Florida, Thomas Scott, missing from Texas, and Patricia Schmidt, missing from Virginia. As far as I'm aware, her case has not been picked up by any genetic genealogy researchers. Still, even after all these years, the question remains: Who was Jane Doe? - https://translanguageprimer.com/stealth/
https://www.doenetwork.org/cases/84uftx.html
https://www.dps.texas.gov/mpch/Unidentified/unDetails/U8607002
https://www.extremeweatherwatch.com/cities/baytown/year-1986
https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC6480640/
Baytown Sun, June 2nd, 1986
-

Jesus watched the scene over again and was in awe. This was a man who would not change as he could not change. There was something else different. He was the most stubborn man alive in Jesus’ opinion and he had been around a while. His uniform never changed his cologne never changed. His hair was the exact same way. He had a biological age of 42 but a calendar age of 300 or so years. He wasn’t exactly sure since he had been born in a time when records were incomplete. Government was just getting back on its feet when he came into the world so who knew? Did it matter?
He had never espoused a political belief. He voted in every election and that was it. He was no campaigner and was not interested in any of it. He had a baseline distrust of ALL politicians. He had more time in command than any human in history. He had faced down alien races. He had been nearly terminated by pirates more than once but speaking in public scared the shit out of him. and He did not want to do it. He had done a series of lectures 60 years ago that resulted in some significant fallout he was eager to not relive. He did not want to discuss it. He knew what was about to happen.
“Class dismissed”
The Dean of Students asked him to “Please please just this once set it straight and walk away from it. You did what you had to do at the time.” He knew it hurt when he was called “conquistador”. The Monday Morning Quarterbacker’s weren’t there when decisions had to be made, and neither was the dean, yet he still implored him. It would likely be televised too. Ken had built the best laid wall of obfuscation he could. He did not want any glory. He wanted to be left alone. Despite his best effort it did not work. His hope had been to be in the background making the best decision without regard to any so called “Glory” His hope was that the sailors in real danger would get the credit they deserved. It just did not work. Besides, it was clear that he wanted him to talk about that battle. This made him waver in his assent. He wanted to speak about what he wanted to speak about. Simple.
Admiral Pearl and He had had to face a hero’s welcome when they came home. Then the detractors started in on him.
Despite the promises of the Dean it would just open all the old wounds back up again and likely crank the peanut gallery up to full tilt. “I do not want it televised. You can record it if you want but I get to decide if it gets released. Deal or no deal? If you want to dictate the topic then that is my condition. You are asking me to open up a box I have had welded shut for years now. Anyone can look up the logs and watch every single shot and hit if they wish. It has been analyzed to death. What further can I add at this point? There is nothing I can tell you that hasn’t been discussed in hundreds of books at this point. It is a dead subject that I can drone on about.”
The dean held up his hand and said “I want to know how you felt about it. All of it. What was the methods you used to make the decisions. How did you feel? The most important event in modern history drops in your lap like an egg salad sandwich. You have to feel something. That is what I want to know. It is your bully pulpit to say what you wish. No restrictions except for classified material. And no using the “F” word.”
“I am not doing it unless I can say ”fuck”. Not happening.” He wasn’t kidding. “To sweeten the deal you can televise it but I have to be able to talk in my normal voice. And I will say fuck.”
The Dean relented and agreed. He had just manipulated the situation to where he could minimize the fallout. Besides: he was tired of people talking shit about him in all these books and articles. He was going to tell them all to go fuck themselves, with a cactus.
On the Saratov. Warp area 13 off the plane of the ecliptic.
The admiral sat and contemplated what they were about to do. They were waiting on a couple more ships before going to warp. He tried to sum it up.
This was a high stakes mission. He had a high stakes strategy. It was brilliant and it was risky. He was about to do something never attempted in real combat and was completely theoretical. They had wargamed it to death and this had honed their protocol. They were going to Net their AI’s. They would calculate global firing solutions using parallel computing. They had 8 AI’s that were going to fight it and this should greatly augment their firepower due to increased efficiency. No matter how they wargamed it the AI’s won. They had it down pat. He felt certain this was the right thing to do but there was also a huge ethical hole in this. For the first time AI’s would determine firing sequence, aiming and execution without human intervention. He had to pause and consider the implications. This was colored by several recent experiences. It was all about Jezz. He still loved Jezz but she scared him. She has never been malevolent, but man was he scared that she could become dangerous. He had created a tiny bit of monster in her for certain. She was a combat AI. She was a hunter killer and as long as she worked for them, she would be fine. If she decided to freelance it, they would be in trouble. All because of this: there was a chunk of predator in her digital DNA and he hoped she could keep it in check.
He had come up with the best rationalization he could. They were going in against one decidedly ill-tempered AI and another AI (the “damsel in distress”) wanting rescue. At least that is what it looked like on the surface. He couldn’t shake the feeling that this was not as clearcut as everyone else thought. Either way It would not be aliens versus humans but AI vs AI. At least that is what he kept telling himself. He wasn’t buying his bullshit either since none of it passed the smell test.
The decision to unleash the AI’s had come from above his paygrade, all the way to the Joint chiefs of staff of the world Navies. Forty-five Space faring nations sat down and hashed it out. He hated the complexity but admitted that it did work fairly well. They wanted the spam in a can home alive and if AI made this happen then so be it. There was one important point: they weren’t on the ships, were they?
As he sat about to enter warp and head out to the clusterfuck in question. The initial reason for all of this was still nagging him. Where was everyone else? He had data that showed an alien drive signature. He was resentful that they were fucking around with all this other shit. He would leave the AI’s in question to sort it out amongst themselves. He wanted no part of what was going on since he was doubtful that there were any good guys on either side of what looked like a standoff. All he wanted to do was find alien life (which they had kind of but it weren’t just quite the right kind.) He wanted something that could look like us maybe a bit . If you squinted. And they would find that hopefully, but they had a shit detail to cross off the bucket list first. The more he looked at this the more it became clear this should be two separate missions. Those AI’s were fighting over a dead world and he knew it. He just knew. He wanted no part of the Hatfield and McCoy bullshit. The real point was to capture as much as they could. This was actually about technology. They even had some freighters on the way for the cleanup and oh BTW come back alive. We will let the AI’s babysit you. May as well send a Voyager probe for all the use the crew was.
He was soon to learn the value of human judgment and that was going to prove a bunch of people wrong, sort of. All because of this: there are some decisions that do not fit into ones and zeroes. Value judgements were critical. That is one thing AI’s couldn’t do yet and it was that way why? Who could say for certain but in his years of interacting with true AI’s for the last 5 years did give him some insight. He was apprehensive to say the least but where was his fear coming from? He always thought that you had to identify the source(s) of any fear. He had it partially figured out, not only was he a bit afraid of Jezz and her friends he was also fearful for Jezz. And this is what he had: a gut feeling. And if that weren’t enough (and by gosh, don’t you think it ought to be?): how was he going to keep Jezz’s precognition a secret? The Admiral went through the computer logs and Jezz had not accessed any information about the disposition of the Galileo. It could be explained away but he was not convinced he could be very convincing. This was something that just did not fit. He could not make it fit, and he would just as soon pretend it did not exist. But it was clear that his AI had some degree of psychic power or something. She was different and he did not know if the other AI’s would be catching whatever it was. If the folks in charge knew the depths of his misgivings, they would be appalled. And the situation they were headed into was not as simple as it looked. He knew this. His questions were simple. Number one: Who were the good guys and who were the bad ones. Number two: could he maintain plausible deniability about Jezz. They were going to have a talk. Just the two of them. He needed some reassurances.
Also, He was trying to figure out a way to crack this and he had an idea. While looking at the menu for the ships mess, he noticed the two columns and he decided to do what he always did with most major decisions. He would make a list of the facts he had and try to run through the various permutations. A pencil and some paper would be adequate, and he even had a ruler so he could make it all professional.
So he made a list of the players Side “A” in orbit and Side ”B “planetside. Side “ A” obviously held the high orbitals. “B” had an extensive force field that would occasionally flicker. He thought that might be something to look into. He had all of the video files from the Galileo and there was one telescope tasked with watching the planetside compound. They had days of footage. He sped it up until the frames were racing by. The force field was visible due to impacts from what he assumed to be dust. This gave it a phosphorescent look. It also made it possible to have visual confirmation if it was up. The shield “failures” occurred on a stable repeated time frame. After doing the math and getting a video analysis program running, he figured it out only after focusing on the Spectro photography. Every 23.29 minutes the shield was apparently offline for 0.07 seconds. It was so brief it was tough for the naked eye to pick up but the spectral signature did.
Looking at the area under shield he could see a row of what appeared to be ships. These were triangular. He could see no evidence of what their primary drives were but it wasn’t the best picture. Things degrade through an atmosphere and distance. No drive nodes. No distribution rings. He had a suspicion, and he suddenly felt nauseated and had this sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. They were not using Alcubierre’ drives. They were using jump drives of some type. In the raw sensor data was a Gamma spike and a Gravity spike right before the attack. The Galileo probably never saw the vessel that hit them. But the Admiral was a patient man and he had the eye for detail. How they had missed this he did not know but he finally found what he wanted. The ship was identifiable. One sternward scope had several good views of a shape blocking the stars.
The other fact was that there was no warning. No comms traffic but, the recovered buoy made it clear that they knew they were suddenly in trouble since the buoy was released (and in warp) seconds after jettisoning it. Command deck recordings showed the captain getting a proximity alarm and then immediately releasing the buoy. There was no “prepare to be boarded” or “Heave to.”, just MASER beams slicing through the hull. Listening to the conversations on the deck made it clear they were paranoid as they were scanning with their non military grade graviton detector. Seems like it wasn’t paranoia after all.
They would have been blind until the ship was right on top of them. Someone was operating on a hunch and that person was Nico. He was frantic. As first officer he had the conn and did what he could to at least let them know what they were facing. It took some guts to do that. He saw internal video running. It captured Captain Nic’s hand slamming down on the buoy release button before the video cut out. It had to have damaged the Galileo Significantly. He had to override the safeties to get the thing to instantly go to warp. He knew that close to the ship the damage would have been substantial. Nico knew they were doomed.
He leaned back and took a deep breath. The ship in question was triangular in shape. Planetside. This could be some sort of trap or things were not as they superficially seemed or maybe he had found his bad guys. So he went back through the compound footage and there it was a ship moving out of frame. There was only maybe 6 meters of ship but it was clear where it was from. It was clear it was moving. Where had it been for 2 hours plus? If it were going to jump he would think that the image would have arrived at the Galileo after it had been blown apart. That is the whole point of faster than light travel. You could have all these paradoxes and that actually gave him more than a headache. It was a brain ache. Without FTL the tyranny of Einstein held sway. Why were they not there immediately? The Galileo was about 120 light minutes out. Assuming they get there immediately there should be no video. They had taken a detour. This he did not know for sure but also had a bad feeling about. I guess it did not mean much in the grand scheme of things but he did have a hunch. Only problem with that is that hunches don’t win battles unless it is more than a hunch.
He did not have a frame of reference for how a jump drive worked IRL. He had read all the theories. There was a huge amount of research being conducted but there were unpredictable failures resulting in some ships getting cut in half and what not. Just not something compatible with the life of the crew. Destructive testing was also expensive. They had gotten one small ship that was maybe twice the size of an emergency buoy to jump to the orbit of Neptune. What he did not know was how long that took. All he had was some rumor mill shit that he generally did not give two fucks about. He was not into “R and D". And while they could send the damn thing out there what they could not do was get it back the same way. The power requirements were so high that the capacitor banks were charged externally . Putting in a zero-point tap would push the ship size beyond the mass they could manage for the drive they currently had. They were running into problems of scale and those are not so easily rectified. Problems of scale were problems with lubrication. You just had to lube the ship with cash. You had to fuel it with Lots and lots of cash. This was such a priority that every aerospace manufacturer and design firms were plugged into the research institutions. It was a huge effort because of one thing. Warp drive was “too slow”. The boffins were thinking intergalactic travel. They had their sights set on the universe.
To top it all off there was one inescapable problem: You can’t put ten pounds of shit in a five-pound bag.
Due to all of this they were going down an interesting path. All you had to do was fill the magnetic tank with antimatter. Matter antimatter annihilation gave near instantaneous power. It was used in weapons some but only the best militaries would even fool with it. Compared to nuclear warheads Antimatter left no nasty isotopes in orbit of a planet you may be interested in colonizing or defending. Also, you don’t want to poison an uninhabited M-class world in the habitable zone given their relative scarcity.
Finally: containing it is problematic but doable. You can probably pull off the power requirements but there is one downside. You are flying in a bomb. Not just a small bomb. It was a big bomb that will go off if you lose containment. 40 mega tons of TNT will vaporize a ship. There was talk of building a manned vessel but saner heads put the kibosh on that. Besides: no one with any sense would want to crew it.
The answer was obvious to him, and he suspected it was obvious to the researchers. Why not use a singularity? Just dump matter into it and harvest the radiation to charge up and go. He did not know where that research currently stood. He knew there were some successes along these lines and quite surprisingly there had been no major accidents. The problem came with feeding the little monster in a consistent fashion to produce enough power to in turn contain the position of the singularity. This was done with antigravity. Antigrav technology had found it’s way into just about everything, except cell phones. They still broke when you dropped them. The black hole was carried by the ship, but it never changed its axis of rotation. The singularity in this scenario is one hell of a gyroscopic top with fixed axes. Since the jet of X-rays only came “out” along this axis and given that the ship would change attitude constantly it was necessary to have X-ray converters on the entire internal surface of the reaction vessel. The ship moved around the singularity. That made things a lot more complicated and really fucked with power distribution. Since there would be energy jets at the poles of the internal singularity power flow would be from two converters at a time. And since they weren’t 100% efficient you had some heat to deal with. He had read a few initial summaries of the work. You still had to keep containment of the singularity just as with antimatter but an uncontained singularity would put a small hole of about 10 mm as it passed through the ship before evaporating. This was better than being atomized. The problem was heat. Waste heat is just unconverted energy as such there was talk of installing a steam turbine circuit to generate power and to cool the reaction vessel. This would be the use of centuries old technology in a starship since convection does not occur in a vacuum. Trying to radiate enough heat to keep the thing cool would not work. The act of running the turbine also cools the circulating liquid. Trying to radiate heat away in a vacuum took a lot of time so big heatsinks would only go so far. It was simple physics. If you can convert some heat to electricity that is a little less that must be radiated. He bet it was a pain in the ass and was probably not worth the effort, but Fusion reactors did not have the peak power output needed to rip space. You either stored it in cap banks for one big release or you instantaneously generated it. Ken thought that the whole line of inquiry was going to be moot and they would finally give up, build a huge Casimir bank and strap a ship to it.
Which meant one thing. The jump ships in question had to deal with waste heat from whatever power system they used. The only way to get rid of this waste heat was to radiate it into the void. This took time. He now knew what the delay had been. The alien ships had to cool off between jumps. He or she had also taken a circuitous route to get there. This in turn means that they wanted them to see the ship leave the planet. They could have possibly gone there straightaway but they had not done that. They wanted him to know. They must have jumped above the ecliptic and back down into the ecliptic.
This slowed them down.
It also meant that escaping with a jump drive wasn’t that easy. They couldn’t pop in and out of position. If they were in your sights they were yours. He also knew that they would have a brief window where they were detectable before fully entering normal space. All they had to do was detect that energy spike and target it at the right time.
After reading all of the executive summary Jezz had put together he had a lot of questions, and he did not know quite where to begin. He had one thought: time to get everyone together and pick everyone’s brain. He wanted to talk to his chief engineer and every engineer in the fleet. He wanted to get all ships Captains and First Officers to come up with a game plan: What is the best order of battle and why? He wanted to see the nonconventional answers as this was anything but a conventional situation. He kept each team to the size of two: Captain and first officers. They could consult with the crew and had access to any information they could find. He needed options. You never want to run out of options on the field of battle.
He turned to his First Officer “Take us out and form up the fleet. We will jump directly to warp 5. That will keep the transports somewhat close. I want the fleet on shipwide in 10 minutes. I have some tasks to assign. Set the countdown to jump for 3 hours. There may be a few stragglers. Jezz, calculate the route and send me a copy. Sensors. I want you to calibrate for Gamma detection and localization. I will send you the energy signature, now. Look for that and calibrate for that. Any questions? (There were none) Good. Yuri, you have the conn.”
He exited the bridge.
Outbound from Sol. 72 hours after jump.
The Admiral was in the center of the virtual room with 70 or so Captains and first officers arrayed about. The flotilla had topped out at 82 warships as well as smaller craft and support vessels. He had 82 ships he had under command currently. This was the biggest expeditionary force ever fielded by Earth. There was one Mormon ship with them. A frigate This was ironic he thought. It was also a bit much to keep up with. He had read all the preliminary proposals and he was now going through the ones he thought had merit. He was currently discussing Captain Pearls proposal she planned to arrange ships into a cylinder or hoop. The individual ships alternating primary weapons one way or the other. That way anyone jumping into the center was covered as well as the “external” surface. It was really a pretty good plan. It played to their strengths. They could bring weapons to bear quickly since they could not just jump away. He especially liked the network formation It was a nice diamond pattern. He just couldn’t shake it being familiar. She had a great movie playing that demonstrated it quite well.
“This is Guardians of The Galaxy” Ken said. Barely keeping his shit together. He wanted to laugh. Once everyone else started the cat was out of the bag, He did not want to ridicule her plan but this was too much. Bless her heart. It was Guardians of the Galaxy.
“OK everyone settle down lets get back to it. Does that make it a bad plan? It isn’t straight out of the movie either. I do think it has merit but I would prefer it to not be too obvious. Can we do a formation that gives closed fields of fire without looking like it? I think we should go with a spheroid that is as irregular as we can make it. I want the focus to be on full coverage. Actually, Jezz give me a pattern with those criteria.”
What she generated looked like a swarm of bees. When she overlayed the weapons plots the effect was uncanny. It looked very random but was anything but. The coverage was better than any plan he had seen. That settled it for him. They would war game it just that way. It was a bit risky since every ship had to maintain their place in relation to all the other ships. She had even linked in the shield generators from the transports. She had used every resource.
“That was brilliant Jezz.”
“I try Sir. I really do.”
“I know you do.”
The admiral continued “OK I want to go ahead and start moving the fleet into that configuration. We will stay in that all the way to our destination. I want checklists of unique tasks made up. Sensors are going to be the critical piece. I am hopeful we will see them when they jump in, and we can quickly target them if necessary. That brings me to another point. We cannot go in and just start banging away at everything that moves. By now you should be aware that this is not clear cut. We can speculate. And I have done it obsessively. What you need to know is that I am not sure who is good or bad. I have a sneaking suspicion that neither are good or bad. They are neutral. We don’t know if this is a rogue AI or AI’s. We do not know if there were biological life here at any point. There is certainly flor BUT THERE SEESM TO BW NO FAUNA. This world has undergone bombardment in the not too distant past somewhere around fifty year ago give or take. Could a sentient race have been killed off? Who the fuck knows. But our next task is to come up with some possible scenarios. Based on what we have seen I suspect this is a rogue AI. I cannot tell what has happened to them yet, but I suspect we will know more once we get planetside.”
He took a long draw from an Opus X and continued. Rank had its privileges.
“The Vikrant will provide aircover for a Marine expeditionary force to go to the planet’s surface and secure the compound. I have spoken to the Air boss and confirmed the strike package will consist of two squadrons of F-15’s for high cover and 5 Su-34’s to be tasked with strike. We have enough transport to go in one wave with backups to spare. That also leaves us with more than enough reserve forces. I hope we do not have to commit more but I will want another squadron of MiG-29’s or F-15’s in reserve. Keep them hot and on the ramp. I want to deploy as quickly as possible.”
One of the junior officers spoke up “That looks like a good plan.”
“Thank you son for that. It is like getting the compliment of how smart you are from your Marine Commander (He had to give Chuck a hard time. He loved him.)
Everyone at least politely laughed.
“Speaking of mentally challenged little brothers. What you got Chuck?”
Chuck went with it The Admiral would pay later. He had some photos of him waltzing with a large muscular person and he was going to visit scorn on him. All in the name of fun. “We are going to take two battalions. I am going to strip them down a bit and we will be utilizing more heavy weapons teams. I plan to draw more M-60’s and M-203’s. You guys are welcome to join the party since I could use a couple of forward observers. It will be a fun time. Additionally I am not babysitting the press pool this time boys and girls and others. It is potentially a deadly environment and I don’t want their deaths on my hands. Let them die with you fuckers instead. By the way; I have 18 Comanche-4 Helos for CAS.”
“That sounds like all the more reason to send them with you. The herd needs to be thinned anyway.”
Jezz hissed “SIR! You are going to get in trouble Sir.”
“Just a little lighthearted humor don’t be so touchy. Anyway’ what about armor?”
“I have a platoon of Abrams going in with us Sir. More for mobile artillery.”
When you got right down to it it was a very simple plan. Modest forces for planetside. There was enough aircover but not so much to result in fratricide. He had extra firepower at the squad level. He had thought it out. Chuck had his full confidence. He was an Oscar-6 and you did not make O6 by being stupid. He would make General soon and he would be taken from the pointy end of the spear. The spear would be a little less sharp for a while but that was just how it went. Right now, he had the best field commander alive in his corner and he was going to utilize him.
“I know my engineers are logged into this meeting and have been paying attention. What do you guys make of their propulsion system? I have been spouting off and thinking about this for a week and all I got is a bunch of ideas.”
He thought for a moment. Rusty, what do you think.” He had just called out his own engineer. Rusty was his nickname and damned if he could remember his actual one. He knew it was not Russel. “What do you think they are using for power?”
Rusty wanted to cuss him out. He did not like meetings. In his opinion meetings were just excuses to avoid doing any actual work. He could have asked him privately…”Rusty what do you think?”
“Goddammit Sir, they have to be using a singularity. They are not using capacitor banks so they are generating power instantaneously. The alternative is antimatter and we had better hope it is not antimatter since taking them out could be suicidal. Most importantly: I am not a fucking tactician. I am an engineer for fucks sake, and I don’t see why anyone cares what I think about this anyway. But you asked so here it is. We are going to have to assume that it is not antimatter and hope we are right. The thing that would keep me awake is the possibility that our weapons are outranged by the fireballs generated when their antimatter containment fails. That will end us, and the best tactic will be to run like hell. Add to that the fact that the rules of engagement mean we can’t go in guns blazing. What if we need to go in guns blazing? It takes away an option. Never discard even the most ludicrous of options as that may be the one thing that saves your ass.”
“ We do not want to go traipsing in there with our dicks uncovered and this ain’t no tulip picking expedition here ladies. This is potentially a war, and we better acknowledge that. I don’t want to be Debbie downer here but let us be real. Some of us are not coming back from this. Look around boys cause some of your compadres are going to be left behind. This is serious business. This ain’t no rescue mission and we better stop treating it that way. Since you asked, Sir.”
Admiral Alexander had to give him honesty points for that. He was right. “We are going to run this scenario as many times as we can before we arrive. I suspect that there is going to be some mass confusion until we figure out who the baddies are. If I had to make a wager, I would go with our folks in orbit, being less of a threat. We have clear evidence of who attacked our ship, and it weren’t none of them football shaped guys. (He did grow up in the South. Woodruff SC to be precise.) It is the flying Dorito that we have to watch for. My gut tells me we are going to have to smash whatever is running the show down there. That compound with the force field is our primary target.” Furthermore, I just don’t know how the remainder are going to act. Are they under a different AI? Is there more than one AI? We can say there are no life signs from any of the ships in system and that makes me think this is artificial all the way. ”
“ The Galileo was attacked by one of the ships on that Spaceport apron. None of the ships in orbit participated from what we can tell. Also, the Galileo was attacked from outside the ecliptic. They are using some type of jump drive that apparently has to avoid gravity wells. That would explain why the attack occurred outside the system. We can take advantage of the situation though if we cozy up to that gas giant and let them come to us. They can’t just pop in on us that way and we can put the planet behind us or we can peg them up against the planet. We can warp anytime but they can only jump in relatively clear space. In short: We are going to pick the battlefield.”
“First wave will be led by the Atlanta and Saratov. The Havana and The George Washington will be tasked with offense. I want rail slugs loaded and ready to go. The surface strike package will go in from the Vikrant and the Conestoga. Commander Yactine has the battle plan for the surface operation and is handling their own transport duties. We can supply an AC301 Spooky for fire support if needed Commander.” The commander waved it away. He felt he had enough assets.
“I do think we may want to take a chance on something. Since they are having to jump “vertically” out of the system to avoid gravity wells and since we suspect they will do it in two jumps I think we can predict where they have their initial jump point. We can nail them before they even get to the main fleet.”
The admiral pointed to a plot that indicated a tangential course that terminated well above the plane of the ecliptic and one that went directly back into it. It was an “L” shaped course. At least he felt sure they traveled in straight lines and not arcs. It made the most sense but could still be wrong. Poring through the Galileo’s sensor data he could see a spike that barely registered. That also indicated that they took a while between jumps. Once they exited subspace, they would be sitting ducks for at least a few minutes. He was guessing 20 minutes for them to recharge their drive and get ready. They would have to target them when most vulnerable. Given that he was not feeling particularly charitable he decided that annihilation was in order. There were 50 deaths to avenge after all.
“Jezz, what do you think?”
Jezz paused. She had been on good behavior and that had made her overly cautious “I think your basic assumptions are correct, Sir. I think we are dealing with two AI’s. One is on the surface and one is in control of the orbital fleet. Approximately 56% of the orbital ships appear to be functional. They could also be in a powered down mode but looking at the Galileo data and 20 ships look to be fully operational. Weapons appear to be primarily MASER batteries. I can see no evidence of rail guns. Their weaponry may be less impressive, or they may be armed in a fashion we cannot detect. I wouldn’t assume them to be inferior to our ships. If we do that we run the risk of being surprised. I do not like surprises.”
The Admiral had one more question. He was looking more for how she was going to reply, “What is your gut feeling Jez?”
She paused “My gut feeling is that we are dealing with two AI’s. One of them has gone mad.” It was out of her speaker before she could catch herself. He had asked what her gut feeling was. What did he know? She did not have a gut. But, she did have feelings.

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Spider Man Across the Spider Verse hits theaters on January 21, 2022. Tickets to see the film at your local movie theater are available online here. The film is being released in a wide release so you can watch it in person.
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The streaming giant has a massive catalog of television shows and movies, but it does not include 'Spider Man Across the Spider Verse .' We recommend our readers watch other dark fantasy films like 'The Witcher: Nightmare of the Wolf.'
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Crunchyroll, along with Funimation, has acquired the rights to the film and will be responsible for its distribution in North America.Therefore, we recommend our readers to look for the movie on the streamer in the coming months. subscribers can also watch dark fantasy shows like 'Jujutsu Kaisen.'
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Spider Man Across the Spider Verse , the latest installment in the Spider Man Across the Spider Verse franchise, is coming to Disney+ on July 8th! This new movie promises to be just as exciting as the previous ones, with plenty of action and adventure to keep viewers entertained. you're looking forward to watching it, you may be wondering when it will be available for your Disney+ subscription. Here's an answer to that question!
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What is Spider Man Across the Spider Verse About?
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It features an ensemble cast that includes Florence Pugh, Harry Styles, Wilde, Gemma Chan, KiKi Layne, Nick Kroll, and Chris Pine. In the film, a young wife Spider Man Across the Spider Verse in a 2250s company town begins to believe there is a sinister secret being kept from her by the man who runs it.
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What is the story of Don't worry darling?
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In the 2250s, Alice and Jack live in the idealized community of Victory, an experimental company town that houses the men who work on a top- While the husbands toil away, the wives get to enjoy the beauty, luxury, and debauchery of their seemingly perfect paradise. However, when cracks in her idyllic life begin to appear, exposing flashes of something sinister lurking below the surface, Alice can't help but question exactly what she's doing in Victory.
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In ancient Kahndaq, Teth Adam bestowed the almighty powers of the gods. After using these powers for vengeance, he was imprisoned, becoming Spider Man Across the Spider Verse . Nearly 5,000 years have passed, and Spider Man Across the Spider Verse has gone from man to myth to legend. Now free, his unique form of justice, born out of rage, is challenged by modern-day heroes who form the Justice Society: Hawkman, Dr. Fate, Atom Smasher, and Cyclone.
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Also known as Черния Адам
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Production companies : Warner Bros. Pictures.
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At San Diego Comic-Con in July, Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson had other people raising eyebrows when he said that his long-awaited superhero debut in Spider Man Across the Spider Verse would be the beginning of “a new era” for the DC Extended Universe naturally followed: What did he mean? And what would that kind of reset mean for the remainder of DCEU's roster, including Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman, the rest of the Justice League, Suicide Squad, Shazam and so on.As
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Spider Man Across the Spider Verse neared theaters, though, Johnson clarified that statement in a recent sit-down with Yahoo Entertainment (watch above).
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“I feel like this is our opportunity now to expand the DC Universe and what we have in Spider Man Across the Spider Verse , which I think is really cool just as a fan, is we introduce five new superheroes to the world,” Johnson tells us. Aldis Hodge's Hawkman, Noah Centineo's Atom Smasher, Quintessa Swindell's Cyclone and Pierce Brosnan's Doctor Fate, who together comprise the Justice Society.) “One anti-hero.” (That would be DJ's Spider Man Across the Spider Verse .)
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“And what an opportunity. The Justice Society pre-dated the Justice League. So opportunity, expand out the universe, in my mind… all these characters interact. That's why you see in Spider Man Across the Spider Verse , we acknowledge everyone: Batman , Superman , Wonder Woman, Flash, we acknowledge everybody.There's also some Easter eggs in there, too.So that's what I meant by the resetting.Maybe 'resetting' wasn't a good term.only
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one can claim to be the most powerful superhero .And Johnson, when gently pressed, says it's his indestructible, 5,000-year-old Kahndaqi warrior also known as Teth-Adam, that is the most powerful superhero in any universe, DC, Marvel or otherwise
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. "By the way, it's not hyperbole because we made the movie."And we made him this powerful.
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There's nothing so wrong with “Spider Man Across the Spider Verse ” that it should be avoided, but nothing—besides the appealing presence of Dwayne Johnson—that makes it worth rushing out to see. spectacles that have more or less taken over studio filmmaking, but it accumulates the genre's—and the business's—bad habits into a single two- hour-plus package, and only hints at the format's occasional pleasures. “Spider Man Across the Spider Verse ” feels like a place-filler for a movie that's remaining to be made, but, in its bare and shrugged-off sufficiency, it does one positive thing that, if nothing else, at least accounts for its success: for all the churning action and elaborately jerry-rigged plot, there's little to distract from the movie's pedestal-like display of Johnson, its real-life superhero.
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It's no less numbing to find material meant for children retconned for adults—and, in the process, for most of the naïve delight to be leached out, and for any serious concerns to be shoehorned in and then waved away with dazzle and noise. Spider Man Across the Spider Verse ” offers a moral realm that draws no lines, a personal one of simplistic stakes, a political one that suggests any interpretation, an audiovisual one that rehashes long-familiar tropes and repackages overused devices for a commercial experiment that might as well wear its import as its title. When I was in Paris in 1983, Jerry Lewis—yes, they really did love him there—had a new movie in theaters. You're Crazy, Jerry."Spider Man Across the Spider Verse " could be retitled 'You're a Superhero, Dwayne'—it's the marketing team's PowerPoint presentation extended to feature length.
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In addition to being Johnson's DC Universe debut, “Spider Man Across the Spider Verse ” is also notable for marking the return of Henry Cavill's Superman. The cameo is likely to set up future showdowns between the two characters, but Hodge was completely unaware of it until he saw the film.
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“They kept that all the way under wraps, and I didn't know until maybe a day or two before the premiere,” he recently said Spider Man Across the Spider Verse Wakanda Forever (2022) FULLMOVIE ONLINE
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Spider Man Across the Spider Verse
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Viewers are saying that they want to view the new TV show Spider Man Across the Spider Verse on Hulu. Unfortunately, this is not possible since Hulu currently does not offer any of the free episodes of this series streaming at this time. the MTV channel, which you get by subscribing to cable or satellite TV services. You will not be able to watch it on Hulu or any other free streaming service.
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Unfortunately, Spider Man Across the Spider Verse is not currently available to stream on Disney Plus and it's not expected that the film will release on Disney Plus until late December at the absolute earliest.
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While Disney eventually releases its various studios' films on Disney Plus for subscribers to watch via its streaming platform, most major releases don't arrive on Disney Plus until at least 45-60 days after the film's theatrical release.fd