With the addition to 120 FPS on console and the nerfing to aim assist that comes with it I have been wondering if respawn will ever allow console players to use KBM on console (similar to that of Fortnite).
I’m not saying this because I’m some faide wannabe I’m mainly saying this because I simply enjoy games more on keyboard and mouse. The way how I am seeing it is playing on 120 fps downscales our aim assist to that of a Pc. So in my opinion I believe that those playing on 120fps should be given the option to play on keyboard and mouse but doing so would put them in pc lobbies lobbies I know this isn’t as simple to do as i think it is however I don’t think it would be to difficult and unfair especially because most pc build are between 120 and 165 fps on apex so it wouldn’t really make console players go through much of a disadvantage I believe.

HEIMLICHS AND BONE SPURS AND BURPS, OH MY!!!
Hello all! In passing, I mentioned to a friend that I've never been able to burp. She introduced me to RCPD and referred me to Craig Villari - the rest is history. I got surgery in March and I figured I would share my kinda crazy story! It's a long one.
In January, my friend mentioned that she suspected I have RCPD, which she had recently received treatment for after learning about it here on Reddit. I was stunned - I didn't realize this was a real thing! I had just thought all my life that I was a coward who couldn't burp
I was able to get an appointment with Dr Villari, an ENT, in early February, and he said he has been receiving lots of referrals and that he's starting to suspect that RCPD is more common than originally believed. It was a short appointment - he asked about my symptoms, explained the treatment, and then we scheduled a date for surgery. I was excitedly telling all my friends to pray for me and my 'burp surgery'
My symptoms for the last 24 years were pretty straightforward: I just couldn't burp. Anytime I tried to follow someone's advice, I felt like I was forcing myself to gag and vomit. I could never find the air or gas to make it happen. I was often bloated, I farted A LOT lmaooo and I always had emetophobia. That's about it, though - I didn't think it was anything that out of the ordinary.
My surgery was on Monday, March 25th, Dr. Villari said it went well and that my recovery should be smooth! I was surprised by how sore I was - I knew they'd be putting me under and invading my throat, but my friend had told me it was the easiest surgery of her life with no complications, so I think I just underestimated everything. My throat felt MASSIVE from the swelling and my inner gums had been nicked during the intubation, resulting in a small and swollen cut. I don't think I really processed the idea of 'slow swallowing', since it was mostly mentioned in passing as a part of the healing process - maybe I was hyperfocusing more on the 'microburps' and the excitement therein. This was also before I'd perused this subreddit.
I was back at work the following Wednesday after my surgery, feeling normal but a bit thick around the throat with a raspy voice and uncontrollable microburps. Optimistic about recovery!
Slow swallowing was really rough for me. I thought the 'soft food' was more of a tip as opposed to a prescription, and so I opted to eat somewhat normally but avoid crunchy/crumbly food. Dear reader, I should've been eating waaaayyy more applesauce and pudding. The swallowing was so slow that I constantly felt like I was being slowly suffocated by my food and throat. Along with slow swallowing, I felt a constant frog in my throat. When I'd lay down at night, my throat felt like a half full water bottle laid on its side. I don't know how else to describe the feeling of slightly drowning. I had to sleep with my head elevated for almost 3 weeks after surgery, which was mostly just a nuisance considering the otherwise simple recovery.
In the days following my surgery, I'd been making off-hand jokes to my brothers that I was slowly suffocating and being choked by my food every time I ate. Eating took FOREVER. I can usually eat a burger in 10 minutes tops LOL. That Friday, it took me the better part of an hour to eat 3/4 of the same burger. Eating was such a long winded chore that most days, I avoided food and went hungry - something I hadn't anticipated. That's not to say it was painful or truly challenging - more so just a psychological battle that I was not prepared for. I figured it would pass soon enough.
The Sunday following my surgery was Easter sunday, so my whole family would be spending the day together and having dinner. My dad made a prime rib ^.^ I was so excited. I ate everything on my plate, in small bites with lots of water. Everyone was mostly done eating after about 30 minutes. Meanwhile, I was still chewing after an hour had passed at the dinner table. At one point, a small piece of steak took an especially long time to find its way down my throat, and I touched my brother's shoulder to say 'ok keep an eye on me here Im struggling to get this down' and by the time he acknowledged me, the moment had mostly passed. That is to say, just lots of moments where the slow swallowing would get too slow and I'd struggle to breathe. But I was mostly okay! Four hours after dinner, I offhandedly grabbed a rye chip from the trail mix bowl. Literally just one rye chip - and it became lodged in my throat and I immediately started choking, like, frantic no air turning blue choking. I had to get heimliched 4 times before I was able to dislodge the chip and start breathing again. I threw up after that : ( I've never been heimliched before. I think it was just a perfect storm that was mostly borne of my own carelessness - dry, crumbly food and a thick, slow throat. I literally thought I was going to die in that moment lmao I had a gooood loooong panic attack immediately afterwards. But its okay my slow swallowing got a lot better after that!
Dr. Villari called me for my post-op check-in on the following Monday, April 8, and I relayed the heimlich story, which he sounded genuinely shocked to hear. I know it had nothing to do with him, but it still shocked me that he hadn't heard of the slow swallowing affecting anyone else so strongly. I also mentioned to him that my gums had been cut during the intubation, but that my mouth was slowly healing from that. He told me to reach out if I had further concerns. He was really kind and professional!
After the heimlich, I was much more careful about what I ate, and my slow swallowing seemed to get better each day. However, my gums were not healing from the small cut I'd received during surgery. The left side of my inner gums was acutely painful and I became worried that the cut had become infected. So I figured that I was due for a teeth cleaning anyway, and scheduled an appointment with my dentist on the soonest day they could get me in, April 30th.
There was no infection in my gums, but the dentist did acknowledge that the cut seemed to be a result from trauma, and she said she could've sworn that she saw some bone sticking out. She told me to rinse with salt water twice a day, she prescribed me with chlorhexidine, and told me to come back in two weeks once I was more healed up. I was relieved that I wasn't infected.
I came back on May 13th with less pain and what I thought was a white scab over my cut. The hygienist noted that it was odd and took a photo for the doctor to review later. We cleaned my teeth no problem and I went home. I became increasingly curious about my gums and kept prodding that rough white spot with my tongue. Eventually, I got curious and reached in with my fingers and was able to pull it out of my gums - it turned out to be a bone spicule, likely resulting from trauma during intubation. I was super disturbed, but the cut was completely healed over and the pain was gone.
Now, it is May 23rd: nearly 2 months after burp surgery. It was a fuckin TRIP to get here, but here we are. The burps are lovely. Just monstrous. I had a 15 second long burp, which had to be over 20 years in the making. I've had many friends coach me on belch strategies and I feel like I am completely relearning my table manners. I have also since learned that heartburn is a beast all its own. I am so glad that my friend recommended Dr Villari, even though the recovery was nothing like what I had anticipated. I am so happy to be burping.
Even after the heimlich and the bone spicule, I have to assert that BY FAR the most traumatic part of all is the FLAVORS of my burps. My god. I don't know if I will ever get used to it.
Thank you for reading my behemoth post! Let me know if you have any questions!
TLDR; surgery went well, slow swallowing fucked me up and I had to get heimliched, intubation fucked me up and caused a bone spicule, and burps taste really bad but feel really good. Sláinte!

It's been 2 days, so I think it's time for part 2- it's gonna be short. Don't wanna ruin my sleep schedule It's messed up already as it is, but we won't mention that.
I wanna take a moment to thank all of you reading this, I was honestly surprised at how well this was received. So thank you!
Lastly, all love to for having made such an amazing universe.
===---===
Memory Transcription Subject: Alan Voor-hein, UN Secretary-General.
Date [Standardized Human Time]: January 1st, 2300, 12:00
It's 12:00, and the meeting is about to begin. I had only arrived like 30 minutes ago, and took the remainder of my time to grab a quick bite (as I was unable too back home in my rush) and to freshen myself up a little. I only had gotten into my seat just a mere 10 minutes ago- and over the course of those 10 minutes, I was joined by various Diplomatic and Military advisors.
I was seated across the room from the door, having a chair at the far-middle-end of the circular table. Above me, as usual, was the symbol of the UN. The Symbol of the peacekeepers, the symbol of hope and peace. Underneath it, there was a smaller symbol, that smaller symbol replaced Earth with a Star symbol. This was done in order to placate the Colonies we have sprinkled around the Solar System. After all, the UN was now no longer just an Earth bound organization- hasn't been for a while now. So it felt fitting to slowly move over towards a newer and more relevant Symbol. On Earth we still use the Earth having logo, while on our colonies we use the Star having one.
To my right was the seat for General (John) Remau, an elderly French descending man at 60 years old. Short prickly grey hair, and a mustache to accompany him. Blue eyes. His experience is mostly based on Counter-Terror actions. But by the Gods, he is good at his job. He is the "tough yet caring" father type of guy, even the men he used to command gave him he nickname of "Father John".
To my left is the seat of Minister (Ayumi) Kamura, a younger Japanese lass, 27 years old. One of the youngest people in the room, and yet one of the most capable in her duties as Minister of Diplomatic Affairs. Long flowing black hair. Brown eyes. She started as an Intern roughly a year and a half ago, under me. Shy at first, but she quickly managed to move up thanks to her charm and intellect, and I offered her the job of MDA. And she has been killing it ever since.
These 2 are my most trusted advisors in their own field of expertise. There are many more seated in the room now, but these 2 are the ones I am on a first-name basis with.
And now.... time for the meeting.
...
There was a slight chaos among the entourage of advisors. None of them had any idea why this meeting was called, only my two trusted seconds had gotten messages with the most relevant details about all of the happenings surrounding the discovery. Gotta love the quick work of AI. Once everyone had sat down on their allocated seats, I stood up, all eyes glued to me, and began speaking.
"All of you may be wondering why I called you all here today. Earlier today, in the early morning hours, the drone we had ordered to be sent into the void...-" I took a second to think on how to actually bring this news to the others, but I knew there was no dancing around the issue. "- The drone has encountered Alien life."
The second those words left my mouth, the room erupted into whispering murmurs, some thinking it was a lie, other's in a show of disbelieve.
I began speaking again, not giving them anytime to start asking questions. "The drone arrived onto this new star system at 10:15, and it initiated it's automated surveying. It already detected something "grey-ish" above a tidally locked planet. At 10:35, the drone went into it's Warning signal mode, the drone went into Cloak and began sending details about it's discovery. The drone had laid it's eyes on an orbiting space-station."
While I was speaking, John, our General, was having his own conversation over the phone with- who I assume, is one of his goons. John said something along the lines of, "Alright. I'll tell 'em.", before taking a look at me and interrupting me in my speech. "Sir, with all due respect, I have just received a call from one of my guys, who I had put on it after I had gotten the AI's message. And uh.. I think this is interesting for all to see."
"Very well. -" I said, pressing the button in the table in front of me, lowering a screen from the ceiling of the room. The screen covered the southern wall of the room, opposite of me. "- Have the room, General."
"Thank you Sir." John walked up to the screen, scanning his badge on the nearby security system which was connected to the screen, it auto-logged John in. John proceeded into his classified filed stash, and pulled up a newly made folder labeled "Unknowns".
The first thing John showed on the screen was a picture taken by the drone, the picture that showed the drone spotting the weird "grey" blob above the planet, followed by a picture closer to the blob, clearly showing it to be a space-station of some kind. "This here, gentlemen and women-" John began with, "-is what this meeting is about. Here is the undeniable proof for all you naysayers in the crowd."
The ones who had more doubtful looks on their faces before, looked on now with curiosity.
"And the newest details I have gotten-" John went on, "-can be seen right here." John pulled up a video the drone recorded. The video showed the drone moving at insane speeds towards the orbit of this planet, which was shown to be quite earth-like, moving past the Station quickly. The drone was starting to slow itself down rapidly as it reached into the atmosphere of the planet. The drone hovered for a moment before resuming it's move.
Our lovely drone stayed as high as it possibly could, while not breaking sight of the ground in a clear camera view. It rapidly moved towards what looked to be a small rural town of sorts. The drone halted it's flight dead in the center of the sky, high in the air above the town, turning it's camera downwards and zooming in even further for more of a clear view of the town.
As it slowly zoomed in, smaller dots appeared on the screen. You wouldn't have to be a rocket scientist to tell that those would, most likely, be the natives of this planet, moving about in their daily life- however they may live it. It still wasn't clear how these Aliens looked like. The drone elevated itself lower, and kept zooming in more.
Once the drone's camera had fully zoomed in, we could finally make out what these Aliens looked liked...
...
...
Question began flowing through my mind. Fur- Knock-kneed hind-legs too? Are these not the natives, are these just their version of ...a Sheep?? If so, where are the actual natives... why would they let their cattle run around freely?
... There has to be natives on the planet.
The drone went on and on, going from town to town, and in all towns it was the same sight. These "sheep" walking around, and doing their own things. To say I was dumbfounded would be an understatement. Guess these ARE the natives of the planet then.
John spoke up again after closing the video- "As you can see, Gents. We've come across an Alien civilization. That's why we're here. - Sir, the floor is yours again." John nodded at me and sat back down at his seat.
...
Straight to the point like always, aren't we John?- "Right- .. Now, as General Remau has stated, we have encountered an Alien space going civilization. It's up to us to come up with a strategy on how to deal with this, and how we'll proceed from here."
The flock of advisors all looked at each-other, either not knowing what to say, or refusing to say anything on it - like always.
I spoke up again. "I propose a few options on how to proceed, we'll discuss all of them, and decide on the eventual future proceeding on this issue. We have a few options to choose from.

1. We'll spy on the native of this planet, try to find enough intelligence as we are able too, while also ramping up our military production tenfold, as we do not know if these aliens are friend or foe.
2. Isolate ourselves, and stay clear of them. Letting them live their lives, and hope they let us live ours.
3. Opening up communications right away, and see if we can befriend them.

The floor is now open to voting, click the link on your pads which you receive-" the sound of multiple pads receiving a notification can be heard-, "- now, and vote which option YOU think we'll have to go with. Understood?"
Everyone nodded, and the voting commenced as it always would. Unlike most situations, now the voting seemed to take longer, as everyone was truly thinking of all possible scenarios. One's we are all familiar with.
...
After 5 minutes the voting concluded, and the result were shown on the screen. 78% voted for option 1. Spying and intelligence gathering it is.
"Thank you all for voting. I, Kamura and Remau shall continue speaking on the best course of action regarding option 1. You're all dismissed. Keep in mind, this will be kept secret until we say so, understood?" Everyone in the room nodded once again- and began gathering their stuff to leave.
John and Ayumi walked over to me, and the 3 of us waited for the room to clear out of all occupants- apart from us. Once everyone left the room, the door locked itself shut. Allowing the three of us to speak undisturbed.
...
"Well, that's over-" John grumbled.
"You can say that again- I hate meetings as much as you do." I retorted back at him, giving a slight chuckle.
Ayumi perked up, "Come on guys, it wasn't that bad-"
"For you, yeah. You love 'em." I told her as I looked right at her. "They're like a party for you"
"That's not entirely true! .... for the most part-" She clapped back.
I gave her a smile. "Sure... back to the topic at hand- the best way to gather as much info on these sheep-ish people as possible. I propose sending more drones to the planet."
John let his own mind run with an idea, "What if we send one of our own guys to the planet with Cloaking armor, so he or she can do some ground work. See how they live, how they act, all that stuff."
"Wouldn't that cause political backlash?-" Ayumi spoke out in protest "-I mean.. sure, they will be cloaked, but what if they are discovered? We know nothing about their technology. For all we know, they surpass us in all fronts. Why not sent a "diplomatic" mission or somethi-"
"That's not going to work, Ayumi" I said, interrupting her. "-We can't let them know of our presence... yet..."
...
Minutes went by as we continued speaking on this- the three of us eventually decided on just sending a couple drone to the planet, and letting them do the work. Some drones would also be carrying probe droids. Tiny ones which can be hidden among furniture even, and the smallest cracks.
We are also going to increase our military spending and development. An order of 8K more ships will be placed later today- ... I honestly can't wait to get home soon. Just an hour more of chatting with these 2 nut cases- and I'm free. ... love 'em though.
...
===---===
Sorry for it being short, as said, gotta think of me sleep bois!
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“So, how much?”
I didn’t know Charles well, but well enough to guess that the grizzled hog farmer was a talented salesman. ‘No lowballs,’ I imagined him drawling, waggling his finger, and speaking over his exceptionally jutting chin.
“Three-hundred fifty for the land, the pen, and the house,” the man said. He spat, hard, and the tobacco-black phlegm stuck to the side of the fence post and slowly ran down the side in three rivulets.
“Then another twenty grand for the hogs. Two-hundred thirty-three of ‘em, not a large passel. Price of swine is goin’ up, I’ll tell you, so t’s the best I can give you for what you’s gettin’.”
I had expected to hand him even more money. Charles and his wife had a small operation, but big enough to matter, with a beautiful two-story farmhouse to accompany it nicely. I wasn’t getting a better deal anywhere else. At least not anywhere I wanted to be. I’d longed to live as a farmer in Tennessee ever since my family’s entire property burned to the ground back in the fall of ‘68. It was dry, and we’d just fertilized after the harvest.
Not a living thing was left untouched by the flames, not even my father, who ran back to get the horses after the barn shot up with a pillar of fire. We never found his body. Or maybe we did, but the charred dust of the barn, the corn, and the animals we called our lives and the blackened remains of the man that was my world were all reduced to ashes in the end. And when the wind came, they all blew away just the same, forever to leave me, my two sisters, and my mother behind.
I held out my hand to Charles and we shook on it.
It wasn’t the life I envisioned for myself. Not when I got my engineering degree from Georgia Tech. Not when I began work at a small engineering firm. Not even when I saw the hog farm for sale less than an hour from my house did I realize that was the world I lost that I needed back. My wife didn’t care; in fact, it brought her work commute down to forty minutes from an hour ten.
After we moved there and I began consulting part-time to make allowance for the time I needed to spend raising the hogs, caring for the land, and tending to my now-pregnant wife, the fulfillment I sought seemed that much closer. But only that. Closer, yet still out of the reach of my yearning clutches. It wasn’t until two years after I bought the farm, almost to the day, that the chips seemed to fall on my side with her.
“Micah?”
Jackie was calling from the cubicle over. Then I heard footsteps coming towards my own office space.
“Hey, yeah, did you finish the drainage plans for the floodplain you were working on? If so, I’d happily review and sign off on them.”
Jackie had come here a couple of years after I did. She was an intern at first, and everybody loved her cheery smile and sharp intellect, so she was hired on after she finished her degree. The youngest of our crew, she lived by herself in an apartment, but her lack of experience didn’t keep her from coolly sharing her opinion on matters of work when she knew she was right. And she was always right.
Jackie had always taken a liking to me in a way she didn’t seem to show toward the others. I never became sure of why she did, but I had my suspicions. Trauma and mystique go hand in hand. Maybe she saw me as broken in the same way she saw herself. After all, it didn’t take a psychologist to tell Jackie had her own skeletons in her closet. She just had that aura, the one that neglected children and broken adults share with each other. Nobody knew what life she walked out of and nobody cared. She did her job, and that was all the company cared for. But not me.
I turned away from my computer screen towards the opening of my cubicle and she was there, half silhouetted by the light behind her, staring me in the eye. Jackie trailed a finger down the edge of the cubicle wall, her mouth open barely enough for me to see her tongue flit deftly over her perfectly-aligned incisors. Ignoring my question, she continued.
“Your wife, I take it?”
She gestured with an outstretched palm toward the wedding photo I had framed on my desk.
“Yeah. Hard to believe we’ll be a family of three soon. Ha!”
I chuckled, nervously. Slightly excitedly, too. I can’t tell if Jackie knew that the latter was for what I knew was coming rather than what I had already said, but I don’t think she would have cared one way or the other.
“Say, she must be lonely waiting for you at home? I know that feeling. Being lonely.”
She took a step towards me and I glanced down at my feet. Looking back, it felt like an eternity, that looking down, that knowing what was happening and making a decision. It was a choice. And while it felt like it stretched for minutes, hours, I knew it was but a moment. Yet it only took a moment to make my descent into sin.
“I know it too. Well. Too well. She’s on a business trip - a long one. Say, I raise hogs. Prize swine, there’s good money in them. What’d you say about coming to see my farm sometime?”
It had been two hours since Jackie had left the farmhouse and was almost one-thirty in the morning, yet I wasn’t tired. According to my doctor, I have insomnia. According to my mother, I have “bad juju.” According to myself, well, I guess I just don’t feel like sleep is worth the trouble sometimes. That night, though, I didn’t sleep at all until the sun shone through my window in the early hours of the morning.
Living among swine never gave me a lot of grief before then. Some people hated the stench - my wife among them - but the manure never bothered me, and, come to find out, it didn’t bother Jackie, either. I would have asked if she had been on a farm as a child, but her demeanor and attitude told me that she wasn’t interested in the slightest in my life and that I shouldn’t be in hers, either. I suppose I wasn’t - not in the one outside of our affair, at least.
But that night, when the stars were out and shining like eyes in a limitless black sea, and when the wind rustled through the trees, a gigantic army moving across the land like a plague towards destinations unseen, I started to feel bothered in a way I never had before.
I had been sitting on the back porch in view of the pig pens after having just finished the chores. I knew I wasn’t drunk, I was only on my second beer, but sitting outside, half-empty bottle in hand, I suddenly wished I could be completely wasted. I’d never been one to believe in those types of things that you can’t touch with your hand or see with your eyes. The hair stood up on my arms and the taste of metal lapped my tongue as if a storm was coming. No, I didn’t believe in the things you couldn’t really feel, but I could sure as hell feel something now.
Unsettled, I was turning around to go get another beer before something caught my eye in the pig pen that made me glance over.
All of the pigs visible from this side of the house could be seen, through the metal fencing, staring in my direction. The ones who were blocked by the lumpy bodies of the other swine stood on the hind ends of the others to see. With their combined mass, the pigs strained the metal of the pen stalls until each stall’s fencing bulged out in the middle where the weight was distributed.
Most unique of all was the unanimous behavior of the swine. Not one fell out of sync. Each one, eyes glowing like headlights in the dark, bodies silhouetted against the light of the moon, was without noise or disturbance. Once all of the pigs were in position, they all stayed ominously still.
As I watched, one by one, hundreds of eyes closed, and a wave of darkness spread over the pen as no more eyes were open to reflect the light. I swore for a moment that the stars did too and that the world around me plunged into complete darkness, but I cannot be for certain, because at that same moment, I involuntarily blinked.
I say involuntarily because, frozen in place, the scene was too strange for me to willingly turn away from. I do not know if the same force that caused the swine to flicker their eyes caused me to do the same, perhaps a gust of wind - or of something less tangible - but upon opening them, the pigs had returned to their discord, with several having already gone to sleep. Deeply disturbed, I went inside the house and drank until the morning came and I finally found sleep.
My wife returned from her trip soon enough and without much ado upon her arrival. For the next month or so, the two of us were together, and our lives were lived without significant discord. None that she knew about, anyway. I never told her about Jackie and I certainly didn’t mention the times I saw my coworker after my wife returned, either. And while I did float an innocent question to her asking if she had noticed any of the hogs’ strange behavior, I didn’t enlighten her as to the motivation for my interrogative manner. She never appreciated being in the company of swine as it was, and turning her disdain into disgust wasn’t on my agenda.
Almost as abruptly as she had returned, my wife left, again, to be gone for the next week and a half on another trip. Probably best for her, too, because the hottest days of the year hit western Tennessee when she wasn’t there to experience them. And no sooner had she gone than Jackie resumed her nightly visits to the farm. Each time, she showed up without much notice, if any at all, and left just as abruptly.
Funnily enough, I didn’t care much. I felt no more and no less empty after she left than when she was here. So after I spent my days with my eyes on my screen and my nose in my boss’s ass, I spent my nights staring up through the bottoms of bone-dry bottles, faintly wondering if the path I walked down could’ve been just a little warmer or just a little brighter if things were different.
In spite of my catering towards my boss’s every wish at the office, he didn’t return the good-will in kind.
“What do you mean you’re asking for a raise?”
I swallowed and continued.
“I mean that it’s been five years, Glenn. I simply asked that my pay might increase to match inflation.”
My boss folded his hands across his desk and sighed. Pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, he dabbed at a couple of beads of sweat running down from his brow. We were in the heat of summer, and the air hung thick and humid around us. The office had air conditioning, but the unit was old, and the fan whistling away in the corner didn’t do much good against the record-breaking heat pressing in around us.
“I’m sorry, Micah. It’s just that you’re consulting, now, and… I can’t afford you those kinds of benefits-”
“What do you mean benefits? I’ve been here long enough I’m owed at least that, Glenn! What the fuck do you think I’m still here for? Pot lucks?”
That was the first time I had lost my temper at my boss; at least, the first time since he ripped up one of my drafts for a project several years back. That had been a long day for both of us. Now, Glenn sat back and scowled ever so slightly, and only for a brief moment, an indication that his inhibitions keeping his attitude in check were wearing thin. Nonetheless, he put on a smile, and chuckled coldly.
“Micah, look- you always were my right hand man, but you’re here so little now. One could say you’re more like my right thumb man, now.”
That was a long day too. The heat didn’t help. Somehow some bugs got into the office. Somebody probably left a door open to quash the heat, fruitlessly.
No wonder the AC’s shot, I thought to myself.
By the time it was the hour for me to leave, there were moths flitting around the lights, flies eating the stale food in the cafe, gnats alighting on every exposed surface in the office- insects were everywhere. I figured that door must have been left open most of the day.
Gotta be pretty stupid bugs, if this is where they want to be.
The time came for me to leave and I did so without a fuss. As little as I could manage, anyway. I took time to complete some errands and returned home, only to realize the heat wasn’t much less oppressive there than it was at the office, even if there weren’t any insects. If anything, it felt oddly empty without them, even after Jackie showed up. The rest of that evening was a blur of empty bottles and used cigarette butts littering the porch.
At some point — two in the morning, three, it didn’t matter — I was pulled out of my drunken slumber and forced into sobriety by a noise I could no more determine the source of than what I had eaten for dinner a year ago from the day. I sat up with a jolt and listened, suddenly feeling the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
The sound, if it could be called that, was discordant, unnatural, wrong — and yet, I couldn’t remember another thing about it. It wasn’t a sound heard through your ears, a vibration in your skin, nor even a sensation of one’s physical brain; it was a thought processed through one’s sleeping soul, something that certainly cannot be described with words without diminishing the weightiness placed; without negating, in full, the sense of abject horror at its state of being.
I had sat atop that precipice between reality and unreality; sleep, the abyss, where devils absently play amongst the nightmares of men. I told myself it was just that, a dream, but I know now that the place I was and the places I was soon to go were gateways between the waking world and the one beneath it. Before I had time to process what I had just felt, I heard another sound, this one very much real, and resembling a dying animal. Slowly, I made my way out of my crumpled bed and opened the blinds. I almost wished, upon doing so, that I was back on the precipice.
Thirteen of the hogs stood in a circle on the lawn; how they had gotten out, I don’t know. Each stood perfectly still, equidistant from the next, and faced a quivering shadow in the middle of them all. I could make out faint features: a scraggly beard, a bottle- whether the man was a hiker or a drunk, I couldn’t tell. Nonetheless, he had wound up on my property, and found himself caught in a circle of pigs.
I watched the man’s motions and noted with rising horror that as he walked in one direction, the circle of pigs shifted to keep him at the center of the ring, and all the while they drew nearer to him. The man was clearly intoxicated now; it was almost half a minute before he stumbled, fell, and no sooner squelched in the dirt than thirteen squeals rang through the night and the animals blotted out his body from sight with their unified mass.
The man let out one scream but could manage no more than one. The ring was a blur of motion. I saw little but I saw enough; one pig reared its glistening head and I watched part of a scalp fly from its gaping mouth, arcing dark liquid as it trailed across the yard. Another couple chunks of meat rolled away from the pile and reached a stop several feet away in the yard; once the pigs were through with their feast, they broke off from the previous site, now nothing but a red stain on the earth, and gobbled up the pieces that had got away.
It took me the next four hours to get the pigs back into their pen, but I managed it. And, none had to be shot in the process, though I surmised I should come with a gun readied. A cleanup wasn’t necessary either; it was a hog farm, so it’d be getting dirty again soon. I considered another individual might find the stain, but there was no proof it was human blood, and I had no intention of calling the police out there.
That morning, my boss was late to work. I suppose that’s to be expected, though, when one has had their tires slashed. He was livid, and I didn’t correct his supposition that his ex-wife had committed the act, though I’m sure he would have loved another reason to fire me. After all, I was nothing more than a right thumb man.
The day had gone quicker and cooler than the former, and the low droning of the rain made the day seem just a little less lonely. Of course, I was slated to see Jackie that night, and after lunch I had left work, gone off to purchase more drinks from the local liquor store. I remember having gotten enough to fill the passenger seat of my truck, and felt almost as if the pile of liquor was a singular being, watching me; the silently judgemental friend. I had a twinge of anxiety, and half wondered if I was going insane; at that, I laughed.
The air was cool when Jackie got there. My mother always used to call that the first breath of autumn, when the reaper opened his eyes and cooed softly to his crop before the inferno was snuffed out by the frigid winter. As a child, I didn’t pay much attention to her words, but as I grew older I felt the cold in my bones, and tonight I felt it in my soul, a faint whisper of death like the mark of the beast. I watched Jackie’s hair whip to the side, a black flag in the wind, as she approached the house. On the doorstep, we embraced, and I recall she said she needed to talk.
“You’re an awfully successful man, Micah. And I know you’ve got a lot of money. Maybe you’re not wealthy, no, but you’re richer than me, and there’s enough to go around. It’d be a damn shame if your poor wife found out about me. No, I haven’t said a thing yet, and I know you know that, for the poor thing couldn’t take the stress and might just die. But I could say a thing, and maybe even a little more. And a nasty thing it’d be, too. I’d just ask for $1,000 a month, but times are tough, so I’m inclined to say $2,000 would be enough to keep my mouth shut. And, of course, we could continue seeing each other. . . if you’d so please.”
Some say they see red when they’re angry enough, but I still remember how I saw even less; the next five minutes of my life were no clearer to me than several brief glimpses of reality, interspersed by periods of unreality before the next glimpse. A scream, and then another. The thought: she’s got a knife. A bone snapped: mine, hers, it didn’t matter. Blood; spattered on the carpet, on my shirt, and the drip-drip of a glistening red globe, smashed in through the side like a cracked egg. I remember the silence before the adrenaline eased and I felt pain, and I remember the pain before the squelch when I issued one last kick to the body, lying on the ground.
It had been time for me to feed the pigs. Jackie usually helped me with the feeding when she came over, always with a coy look, and often it was short lived and I needed to finish the job on my own after she left. I was betting that she could help me again. Hoisting her up onto my shoulder wasn’t difficult, though I supposed she was lighter than usual. I stooped to pick up the last few pieces that didn’t come with the rest of her and took the two of us to our yard.
The part of the brain we, as people, already understand cannot possibly encompass every sensation which we, as people, feel. Scientifically, maybe- but that feeling that makes dogs bark at empty rooms; that makes cats stare into walls before jumping away, frightened; that feeling exists in humans, too. Call it a sixth sense, or ESP, it’s there, and I felt it when carrying Jackie. The birds had stopped calling, the trees had ceased rustling, and a low, droning buzz resounded outside the pig pen. It rose in volume and pitch, and as I dropped Jackie’s lifeless corpse onto the ground, it blocked entirely the noise of the world around me.
I didn’t even hear the thump. Nor did I hear the pigs, for it wasn’t until I looked up from her body, panting heavily from the effort of what had transpired, that I saw that we stood on the fringe of a gathering of the pigs. I couldn’t see if any remained in the pen, but I could see that at least a hundred gathered here outside the pen, all staring at me with glassy eyes and salivating mouths. Some stood on the haunches of the others to see, and many were covered in blood, having been left uncleaned since the events of the previous night. Even through the foggy daze I was in, my fear registered on a guttural level and, in horror at the unreality of what I was seeing, I backpedaled, eventually tripping over a rut in the earth and falling to the ground.
The next moment, each of the pigs had turned to look at what was left of Jackie. For a couple of seconds, they stared at her, and I realized that the droning in my ears had stopped, replaced with nothing but an ominous silence. That silence was short lived, for in one, unanimous, ear-splitting squeal, the pigs raced each other to the body, and carnage ensued.
The hogs in front no sooner reached the body than were ripped apart by the pigs behind them. Huge flaps of fatty skin hung in ribbons from the napes of their necks and blood sprayed in all directions as necks, limbs, tails, and extremities were mangled with the reckless abandon of a pack of wild dogs. I suppose that’s what they were; even if I treated them like domesticated creatures, they were animals, and they were out of the control of any constraints that civilization wanted to place on them.
The mass of flesh moved rhythmically and dripping bodies were flung like oversized rag dolls from the fray to land wetly and lifelessly on the earth. Occasionally, I would hear a crunch as bones were rent and snapped under the pressure of the fray, and squeals as the broken limbs stabbed through the fleshy bodies of the animals atop them. Hooves, teeth, and bones carved the flesh of the other pigs, and while blood and feces sprayed freely, chunks of gore rolled out of the fray like meaty baseballs.
The pleasant temperature drop had undone itself, as the wind had stopped blowing, and the stench of the scene hung thick in the hot and heavy air of late summer. I vomited, over and over, bent over in the shit and the blood, eyes watering from the smell, and blood dripped from everywhere on my body. It ran off my body in rivulets and pooled around my feet. Some was mine, but more was Jackie’s, and more yet was the remains of the pigs. Blood dripped from my mouth onto the dirt, and I could no longer tell if I was looking up towards the cruel stars, down at the earth, or witnessing the slaughter before me, for my sight was veiled by a coating of blood, and my senses were clouded by the rush of adrenaline, though I could do nothing but sit in shock.
Breathe.
A chunk of meat smacked me in the shoulder.
Breathe.
An ear bounced off of my forehead.
Breathe.
An opened artery sprayed blood across my face in a line.
Breathe.
My eyes recognized four pigs on the fringe of the conflict abandoning their course for what was left of Jackie and I saw turn to me, each foaming at the mouth like a rabid animal. I saw two get ripped away by two other pigs, but the remaining couple charged. The one that reached me first clamped its maw around my leg not a moment before the next reached it, bit into its neck, and thrashed it back and forth.
I couldn’t hear my own screams above the countless squeals of the hog pile and the constant wet ripping that resounded through the dark sky. Eventually, the pig that had bit me gave out with a squeal, but not before the lower half of my leg was snapped with one, final pull, and the pig behind then buried its face in the body of the dying hog before being dragged back into the conflict by another. I failed to even hear my cries of pain over the sounds of the fray; I knew I screamed only from the burning in my throat.
Breathe.
A second later, I was thrown by the arm and crashed against the soggy earth several feet away from the conflict. For a moment, I wondered if I was alive, or if the world I was seeing around me was really Hell, and I was a damned soul being punished for my sins. At that, I blacked out, and entered a timeless, dreamless slumber that sent the world back into the buzzing mayhem I had felt before the carnage.
I opened my eyes some brief time later to find that the buzzing persisted in my ears while awake. Perspiring heavily from the heat, I found I was lying on my back on the ground, facing the burning remains of my house. The buzzing was really the rush of flames lapping at the sky and the crackling of embers as the roaring fire pulled them out of sight.
“Swine,”
The voice, which rang impossibly clear in the noise of the night, above the roar of the inferno and the sounds of the approaching sirens, had come from but a few feet behind the back of my moist head. Even after all that had transpired, the word made my hair stand on end, for it was spoken with a voice that could snuff out the stars if it were to say that they ought to stop shining.
I turned my head to face behind me, groaning sharply from the pain, to see a man atop a mountain of hundreds of mutilated hogs. The pile ran with a constant stream of blood and feces, which dripped slowly over the terraced stack of corpses to form a small lake underneath, the edge of which lapped my face with miniature waves of gore.
“. . . they never learn.”
Then, the man smiled, and I realized with horror that his legs resembled those of ruminants.
And atop his head rested two ebony horns, glistening in the moonlight.

A Letter to the Newcomers
There’s a place in Indianapolis that calls us home each May. That patch of land lies west of downtown and calls the bravest of souls face it challenges, to defy what was once considered impossible. It has a fairly simple layout: 4 left-handed turns and 4 straightaways. But she is anything but simple. If you’re not careful this beast will chew you up and spit you out without a second thought, and remind you of one fact while she does it: You’re not special.
On that Sunday at the cusp of summer, we gather in a town that should’ve died when Main Street did. We gather as 33 of the bravest men and women strap themselves into a proverbial rocket ship. At their feet are suspension elements that can easily impale them. At their back, a 2.2L twin turbo V6 engine filled with flammable fuel and they must control the steering, shifting, braking, and acceleration. They have to maneuver this rocket ship at 230 miles an hour, covering two and a half miles in less than 40 seconds. Now do it again. Again. And again. For 500 miles.
Oh, and there are 32 other drivers breathing down your neck the entire time because they are chasing the exact same thing you are: immortality.
There isn’t a race on this planet where man and machine are asked to go this fast for this long. Finish first and you’ll join one of the most elite clubs in all of sports. Finish second and no one remembers your name.
I arrived in 2001, in the shadows of the hundreds of thousands that had made the pilgrimage before me. 7-year-old me had no idea what was about to happen, that I was about to lay eyes on my first love. I still remember the first time I walked up to the gate. I could see the water tower while walking down Crawfordsville Road, my dad telling me that was about how far we had to walk. Then, as the trees broke, you could see it.
Mecca.
A massive grey wall of bleachers that seems to blend with the sky. I still get goosebumps thinking about it. I have since asked my dad about what led to him dragging a kid to the largest single day sporting event on the planet. “I asked and you said yes. And that was that,” he says.
“You know, looking back it probably wasn’t the smartest parenting choice I made.” I couldn’t care less. That dumb parenting choice has led to a 24-year love affair with that plot of land at 16th and Georgetown and I wouldn’t trade it for anything. I’ve seen drivers whose names will one day be thought of as legend. People will say that they wish they could have seen them race. I’ll be able to say I did.
If you’re coming in for the first time, do yourself a favor and stop for just a second. Take everything in. Take in the sights (the family taking a photo together behind the pagoda, how the cars glisten as they’re being rolled to the grid, or the sea of color once the grandstands fill) the sounds (Dave Calabro and Alan Bestwick over the PA or the whistles of the yellow shirts directing traffic in Gasoline Alley), and smells (the tire smoke, the engine exhaust, grilled meats, cigar smoke, the sunscreen, or some borderline-erotic combination of them all). It’ll be something you crave going forward, like a druggie trying to figure out how he’ll get his next score.
Ask anyone who has been to that place and they’ll be able to tell you the first time they were there and the first time they knew what that place was all about. I went five years just going through the motions. 2006 rolled around and I experienced something I still can’t quite describe. 350,000 people and 20-some odd cars had no business being as quiet as they were when the checkered flag flew. The appreciation has only gone up through the years as I have experienced some incredible things.
· I’ve seen a woman lead.
· I’ve seen two rookies shock the field.
· I’ve seen a rookie lead in turn 800, only to finish second. Twice.
· I’ve seen a world champion expose this race to a new continent.
· I’ve seen a three-time winner come up short on the once-elusive fourth by less than a quarter of a second. Twice.
· I’ve seen a fan favorite finally have his number called.
· I’ve seen middle fingers at 220 miles per hour.
· I outran a tornado (seriously, that happened).
· I met a man who was fulfilling his lifelong dream, at the age of 56, of attending the 500.
And that’s only 23 years. Imagine what you could see in 30. In 40 or 50. Maybe even 75.
But you know what blows my mind the most? This place was built for cars to go 80, not 230.
This place has a weird trait about it. She will suck you in and won’t let go, but I’m okay with that. I think we all are. It’s why we come back each year. There’s an excitement in the air that is unmatched anywhere in the world. The euphoria of Back Home Again. The somberness of Taps. That thunderous roar of the flyover. The electricity that courses through the air as those six simple words are projected over the PA system, making every hair you have stand on end.
Whether you’re here to watch the race from the seats or rage your fucking face off in the Snake Pit, you’ll be with 350,000 of the closest friends you’ll never meet.
Join us, won’t you?

Bollinger Bands, developed by John Bollinger, are a popular technical analysis tool used by traders and investors to gauge market volatility and identify potential trading opportunities. In this blog, we'll delve into the world of Bollinger Bands, exploring their construction, applications, and benefits.
Construction: Bollinger Bands consist of three components:

1. Middle Band (MB): A simple moving average (SMA) of the price action, typically over a 20-period time frame.
2. Upper Band (UB): The MB plus 2 standard deviations (2σ) of the price action.
3. Lower Band (LB): The MB minus 2σ of the price action.

How Bollinger Bands Work: The Bands contract and expand based on market volatility:

• Contraction: Low volatility, indicating a potential breakout or trend reversal.
• Expansion: High volatility, signaling a potential trading opportunity.

Applications:

1. Breakout Detection: Buy when the price breaks above the UB, or sell when it breaks below the LB.
2. Trend Identification: The Bands help identify trends and potential reversals.
3. Support and Resistance: The Bands act as dynamic support and resistance levels.
4. Volatility Measurement: The Bands provide a visual representation of market volatility.

Benefits:

1. Adaptive: Bollinger Bands adjust to changing market conditions.
2. Flexible: Traders can adjust the time frame and standard deviations to suit their strategy.
3. Visual: The Bands provide a clear and concise visual representation of market volatility.
4. Combination: Bollinger Bands can be combined with other indicators and tools for a more comprehensive approach.

Tips and Variations:

1. Use multiple time frames to confirm signals.
2. Adjust the standard deviations to suit your trading style.
3. Combine with other indicators, such as RSI or MACD.
4. Use Bollinger Bands with other technical analysis tools.

Bollinger Bands are a powerful tool for traders and investors, offering insights into market volatility and potential trading opportunities. By understanding how to construct and apply Bollinger Bands, traders can improve their trading performance and make more informed decisions. Remember, Bollinger Bands are just one tool in your trading arsenal – combine them with other technical and fundamental analysis techniques to maximize your trading success.

I (22F) haven't been in legit correspondence (in contact regularly) with my dad (44M) for almost a year. I'm gonna start from the beginning to help with context.
As long as I can remember, my dad's father (77M) had been molesting me. My first memory is hard to pinpoint, as I can't remember which out of like 5 memories was the first to happen; but I'm highly sure that it was when his father was holding me above his head to "perform" on four year old me. I can remember exactly what my surroundings were, what I was wearing and who was in the home. At the time, I didn't know as I was so young, his father had been doing the same thing to my sister.
His father blackmailed, threatened and punished us if I wanted to tell. So, I became so scared; I tried to block it out. And in the process of blocking it out, I actually believed I was supposed to do those things, and I thought that I wanted to do them with him. I was about seven years old then; I wish I was lying.
And I'd rarely see my dad; he wasn't out drinking or cheating, he was actually working all of the time. There's only a couple of memories where my dad was actually home, or we were doing things as a family. But a large majority of the time, I'd cry at his feet, begging him not to go to work.
As I got older, his father became less physical and more verbal with hand signals. "Wow, you look like an adult wearing makeup." Or he would physically touch himself in front of children. Or he would hold his fingers up in a "V" and proceed to "lick" between said fingers while maintaining eye contact.
When I had turned thirteen, my mom and dad separated and my dad had moved my siblings and I into his parents' house. Not even 24-hours in being there, his father slapped my ass while I was waiting on breakfast; and by that point, I had enough, so I said aggressively, "Don't touch me there." Well, he got pissed and began yelling that "He can do anything he wants, as it's his house and I should be lucky he even accepted us in."
Also, when we had moved in, he decided I didn't have enough things to do, y'know being in school and all, so I am now the one in charge of taking care of my grandma, who was medically obese. Getting her on and off the bedpan, giving her baths, washing her hair, making her food, getting her dressed for dialysis, before I had to get ready for school. Whenever she asked for his help, he'd yell my name, call my phone, or physically come up the stairs (my room was upstairs) to yell at me because "I only take care of myself." ((There was actually one time I had a migraine and told everyone including him that I was going to bed early, and he came to my room to yell at me... when I had a migraine.))
So, from 13-18, I was taking care of my grandma as soon as I got up in the morning to when I went to bed; along with going to school, school functions (drama and art), sports (for my siblings), or just trying to take care of myself.
When I was 17, I was really struggling with my mental health, and I tried to overdose on a bunch of different medication I found lying around. Luckily, my attempt didn't work; so I had finally asked my dad to see a therapist. My first session, I was asked how many times I've attempted (to my knowledge), and I was honest (around that time, it was over 10-15 attempts, different methods). My dad looked at me shocked when I said that, because he didn't know how to recognise the signs of depression. When I say "looked," I genuinely mean looked. I brought him in as it was scary to be by myself. The doctopsychiatrist diagnosed me with PTSD, generalised anxiety, insomnia, an eating disorder, OCD and clinical/major depression.
At 18, I finally said "fuck it, I'm so mentally, emotionally and physically exhausted and I'm so depressed." So I told my grandma and her husband that "I'm done taking care of everyone besides myself." They were upset, him more mad, but understood.
As I was getting closer to my covid graduation, his father approached me with a question. Verbatim: "Do you think you can find me a girl who would have sex with me for $70?" Mind you, I'm 18 (then), all of my friends were not 18. I literally ran out after that, and texted my dad, "You need to talk with your father." His response: "What did he do now?" And I called him to tell him.
On the phone, he sounded upset, and he said he would talk to his father. I left it at that. Well, not even a month later, I'm bouncing back and forth between mom's and dad's. The peak of COVID, and I needed to go to my dad's house to snag my cat, so I could have her with me at my mom's house. Well, while I'm there getting her (cat) stuff together, his father approached me again, this time asking if I had found anyone. I say no, and get everything packed; I tell my dad on the way back to my mom's. This time, dad's pissed off.
Apparently, when he talked to his father (again), his father said I was making it up and that I'm just like my mom. Okay, thank you! That's so sweet. I love my mom.
(Don't worry, we're getting to the end.)
One day, my (current) boyfriend and I were heading to my dad's house to grab some items as I had decided to move in with my mom once school finished; I had to wait a month to graduate (6 feet apart). Well, on the way, we were discussing the situation above, and then my boyfriend was like, "Wow, I can't believe your dad still talks to him." And I was like, "What do you mean? Mom and dad don't know." Upon those words exiting my lips, my boyfriend pulled the car over; shocked, he told me I had to tell them. That sent me into a panic attack for 2 hours.
Well, in the middle of the panic attack, we arrive at my dad's. Since I was still bawling, panicking; my boyfriend called my dad and asked him to talk outside. They went around the back of the house, I was still sobbing in the car out front, and I shit you not. My boyfriend starts telling my dad about everything that happened, but his voice cracked, and I heard it. That sent me even further into the panic attack.
After they finished, my dad came over to the car and got into the driver's seat next to me, and said "I wish you would have told me sooner." My heart shattered.
The day after, my sister and I filed police reports stating what had happened to us. Our dad, mom, stepdad, and aunt (who also experienced it, DAD'S SISTER) were there in support.
Nothing has come out about the police reports, even a couple years later. Before I turned 21, I was telling someone who I grew up with about it (now that I'm okay with telling people what happened), and their eyes started to welt up with tears. I was like, "Um, what?" Their voice started breaking, "I know. But I thought it was your dad." I asked them to explain further. "One day, when you were a baby, I was talking care of you; I noticed signs of penetration. So, I anonymously filed a CPS report against your dad. I'm so sorry"
I told the person, "Thank you. You don't have to apologise; you did the right thing by trying to protect me. I'm just glad someone knew and tried to help, even anonymously."
This is just something I forgot to add: One day, my dad told me his father was in the hospital with pneumonia and might not make it; I withdrew all emotions tied to that man, so I said "Lol." That upset my dad, and I later apologised [dumb bitch] and he said, "I know how you feel about him, but he's my dad."
(Okay, so close!)
After everything, this is what I've noticed: • Dad still talks to his father • Dad slowly stopped talking to me • Dad visits his father EVERY DAY (don't live together) • Dad has stepmom reach out • Dad no longer responds to texts • Dad no longer calls
Also, there's a lot more than just what I had wrote down. My dad would prioritise his wife (6 years my elder) over all of his kids. He got her a phone, when she already had a phone (she has 2 now); when I was trying to get my license (I got it at 21, even when he said 18), he'd either cancel at last minute or just not show up because he had plans with his wife; if I was having a bad day, no big deal, but if his wife had a bad day, he'd get her chocolates, flowers, candles etc. It's just so much info.
So, after that, I am deciding (still trying to decide) that I'll just cut my dad out, since he's doing the same to me.
I'm 22 years old. I am older than how old he was when I was born. And I can say, for a fucking fact, that if he did that to my future children, he wouldn't be out and about living his life. I would turn it to hell, because that's what his father did to me.
((TL;DR)) Dad's father abuses me, forces me to take care of his wife, wanted me to find a girl who would have sex with him, and I find out about an old CPS report.
So, AITAH?

There have been big changes in how we look for information. No longer do we use big desktop computers; now smartphones are the best. The rise of mobile devices has caused big changes in how search engines, especially Google, work. Now we have mobile-first indexing and optimization.
This change shows that users are acting differently now. Statista says that in 2023, more than 63% of all web traffic will come from mobile devices. That means one search is happening on a phone for every two searches that happen. Because so many people are moving to mobile devices, search engines need to give mobile-friendly websites more weight. mobile-first indexing and optimization make sure that search results are appropriate and easy to use on any device.

What does “Mobile-First Indexing and Optimization” mean?

Simply put, mobile-first indexing and optimization means that Google gives more weight to the mobile version of your site when it stores information about it and decides how to rank it in search results. Google used the PC version as the main source in the past. This change is in line with how people use the internet: on their phones!

Why is mobile-first indexing and optimization important?

Think of your website as the front door to your online store. Potential buyers will just walk away (or, in this case, tap away) if it’s crowded, slow, or hard to use on a phone. Mobile-first indexing and optimization make sure that mobile users have a smooth experience on your website, which is important for your general success and search ranking.

How to Get Good at Mobile First-Indexing and Optimizing

Here are some important things you can do to win in the mobile-first indexing and optimization world:

Your best friend is responsive design:

This magic ingredient makes sure that your website’s layout and content change instantly to fit any screen size, from a big computer screen to a tiny phone. Your guests will no longer have to zoom in and out and scroll back and forth.

Mobile users don’t like to wait, so speed is king (and queen).

People will quickly leave your site if it takes too long to load. Just say “mobile-first indexing and optimization.” For a fast experience, make sure pictures are optimized and code is kept to a minimum. You might also want to use a content delivery network (CDN).

Equal content is important:

Visitors on their phones shouldn’t be left out in the cold. Make sure that your mobile site has the same information as your desktop site. Text, pictures, and calls to action are all part of this.

Get to know the Mobile-Friendly Test:

Google provides a free Mobile-Friendly Test tool at https://developers.google.com/search/docs/fundamentals/seo-starter-guide that checks your website and tells you what needs to be fixed. To keep your mobile game up to date, run this test often.

Think Big, But Keep It Simple:

Mobile screens are small, so don’t put too much text on them. Break up long lines, use clear, concise language, and put the most important information at the top of the list. Use bullet points!

Pictures that Shine:

Not every picture is the same. Make sure your pictures are the right size and style for mobile devices. This makes sure that your page loads quickly and pictures don’t get blurry.

Finger-Friendly Navigation:

On a phone, tiny buttons and complicated options are a pain. Make sure the buttons you use for control are big enough to tap easily and stay away from dropdown menus that need precise clicks.

What are pop-ups? Not Really:

Pop-ups can be annoying, especially when they show up on a small screen. When you do use them, make sure they work well on phones and are simple to close.
To make sure your mobile website works well, test it again and again. You wouldn’t release a new product without trying it first, so do the same with your mobile website. To find any interface problems, use real devices with different screen sizes.

Mobile-first indexing and optimization: a never-ending journey

You can always learn something new about SEO (Search Engine Optimization), and mobile-first indexing and optimization is no different. By keeping up with the latest trends and using these best practices, you can keep your website mobile-friendly, search engine-friendly, and, most importantly, customer-friendly. Remember that a satisfied smartphone user will stay a loyal customer!
Bonus Tip: Stay tuned for blog posts in the future where we’ll go into more detail about certain parts of mobile-first indexing and optimization. We’ll give you the information and tools you need to feel confident as you move through this mobile jungle!

How to Get Out of the Mobile Maze: Advanced Techniques for Mobile-first Indexing and Optimization

We’ve talked about the most important parts of mobile-first indexing and optimization. Now, let’s look at some more advanced ways to understand the mobile world.

Accelerated Mobile Pages (AMP) should be used:

AMP is an open-source project that makes versions of web pages that load very quickly on mobile devices. Using AMP can make your website load much faster, which will improve your mobile-first indexing and optimization and the experience of your users.

The secret weapon you need is structured data:

Structured data helps search engines figure out what your website is about. You can give more detailed information about things like products, events, and business hours by using schema markup, which is made up of specific pieces of code. This could lead to more useful search results that make people want to click.

Mobile SEO for the area Minded:

Local SEO is very important if your business has a physical location. Make sure that your Google My Business page is always up-to-date and set up so that it works best on mobile devices. This includes having correct information about the business, good reviews, and good pictures.

Voice search is becoming more and more common, which shows how powerful it is.

Think about how people might use voice commands to look for your goods or services. Use natural wording and long-tail keywords in your content to make it easier for voice searchers to find you.

Don’t Forget App Indexing:

App indexing lets your mobile app show up in related search results if you have one. This is a good way to get people to your app directly and get them more involved.

How to Use Analytics to Succeed on Your Mobile Device:

Use tools like Google Analytics to look at your website’s traffic regularly. Pay close attention to how people use your site on their phones. Use your data to figure out where people are dropping off or having trouble, and then make changes based on that.

Stay Ahead of the Curve:

Google’s algorithms are always changing. Sign up for Google’s Search Central blog and other SEO tools to stay up to date on the latest best practices for mobile-first indexing and optimization.

Mobile-First Indexing and Optimization: An Investment That Pays Off

In this “mobile-first” age, these tips will help you make sure that your website is not only mobile-friendly but also search engine-friendly. This means a better experience for users, a higher search score, and more traffic and sales in the end. Keep in mind that getting a mobile-friendly website is an investment in the future of your business.
Are you ready to jump? First, make sure that your website is mobile-friendly by checking it out. There are many tools, both free and paid, that can help you find places to improve. You can start putting the above tactics into action once you have a plan. You can get through the mobile maze and build a loyal following of mobile users if you work hard and keep improving.
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My girlfriend and I have been dating for 4 and half years. Overall things have been great, but I admittedly get jealous pretty easy, and it’s an awful habit I wish I could get over.
There’s been a couple times where I’ve let my insecurities get the better of me and pressed her about talking to other guys. Both times she’s assured me she doesn’t do that sort of thing. And in hindsight, I wish I would have believed there and left things at that because it’s obvious now that she doesn’t. Accusing her of doing that especially without anything solid proof really put a strain on our relationship each time. With her saying she doesn’t like that I can’t trust her.
After our last big argument over 2 years ago I thought I moved passed it, but for some reason my dumbass started falling down that rabbit hole again and I pressed her about how I saw a suggested friend on my Snapchat that was friends with her. The person was an old coworker of hers that I was previously jealous of and caused our last argument.
Not only did the app recommend him as someone to add on my Snapchat, but it showed he had the symbol indicating he was best friends with one of my best friends. With my girlfriend being the only person I’m best friends with on snap.
I saw this and admittedly freaked out on her in the middle of the night. But in turn she showed me her social media and that she had never talked to that guy on there. We then looked at her pending friend requests and there was an old request from 2+ years ago from him but that was it. We’re not sure why my phone showed this, but I handled the situation piss poor as could be.
I feel like an utter dumbass for how I handled it and for even bringing it up in the first place. Right now she is in her busy season at work and already stressed out, and this obviously did not help things. She said she needs a couple days to cool off and process this after I pretty much accosted her about talking to other guys.
I really feel like I’m on the verge of losing her this time all because I couldn’t actually trust the person closest to me. I want to go back in time so bad and yell at myself for being an idiot. She legitimately has been nothing but supportive and caring, but for some reason I’m determined to keep fucking things up between us.
I want to change this part of me more than anything, and would take back what I said in an instant if I could. But now I’m left to deal with the fallout of my god awful decision making and I’m not sure how to move forward.

I start the program in June, and I'm very afraid about it. I don't have a supportive family; instead, I have awful relatives who are already trying to get me to quit and work full-time instead. My uncle even accused me of wanting his money because I mentioned worrying about my sister's student loans. He is blocking contact with my grandma to keep me away, fearing I might take his money. The way you're treated if you don't have a middle-class income is abysmal. I feel intense pressure to succeed because I'm facing false accusations and being seen as wasting my time.
I'm particularly scared about starting the program because I'm worried about keeping up with the coursework and managing the workload. The lack of support from my family makes it even harder. In the past, my relatives have often dismissed my ambitions and encouraged me to settle for less, which has been emotionally draining.
The incident with my uncle is especially hurtful. He has a history of negatively impacting my life through his paranoia and control over family finances. Blocking my contact with my grandma is just one example of how he tries to manipulate situations to his advantage, and it leaves me feeling isolated and unsupported.
Additionally, I struggle with fatigue and low energy, especially after gaining weight and suffering from a freak accident many years ago that ruined my blood circulation and blood pressure. This accident, caused by a cosmetic procedure involving radio frequency and microcurrents, has made things even harder for me. On bad days, even basic activities become exhausting, which makes studying a real challenge.
On top of these challenges, my mother has auditory hallucinations and tinnitus, along with memory issues. I'm afraid it might be dementia, which adds another layer of stress and concern. I am also a recovering agoraphobe, and I feel like everything is stacked against me in so many ways. I have numerous bad habits, like scrolling too much on Reddit and watching YouTube videos, which I know are not helping my situation.
I do have some plans: I can only study well on an empty stomach, studying earlier in the day, at Starbucks, and using resources like Simple Nursing and Quizlet. I plan to break down my study sessions into manageable chunks and take frequent breaks to avoid burnout. Despite these plans, I feel I'm off to an awful start. The humiliation and disrespect from this incident with my uncle, who has previously done actions that negatively affected my life, hit particularly hard. He, of all people, has no right to criticize me considering the harm he's caused and his paranoid obsession with his wealth. This situation highlights how terribly people treat you when you don't have money.
Emotionally, I feel overwhelmed and unsupported. These negative experiences have made me doubt myself and my ability to succeed. I try to cope by focusing on my goals and reminding myself why I started this journey in the first place. But without a supportive network, it's tough to stay motivated to feel any sense of security.
I'm genuinely afraid now.

Playing the bass guitar might seem straightforward at first glance, but seasoned bassists know it's a journey filled with unique challenges and rewarding moments. Here are some of the difficulties that aspiring and experienced bass players often encounter:

1. Physical Demands

• Finger Strength and Dexterity: Bass strings are thicker and require more force to press down, making finger strength crucial. Developing the dexterity to move smoothly across the fretboard takes time and practice.
• Hand Size and Stretch: The wider neck and larger frets of a bass guitar can be challenging, especially for players with smaller hands. Stretching to reach notes and maintaining good technique can be physically demanding.

2. Rhythm and Timing

• Foundation of the Band: As a bassist, you’re the backbone of the rhythm section. Maintaining consistent timing and locking in with the drummer is essential. This requires an impeccable sense of rhythm and the ability to stay in the pocket.
• Complex Rhythms: Many genres demand complex and syncopated rhythms. Mastering these patterns without losing the groove is a significant challenge.

3. Musical Knowledge

• Scales and Modes: Understanding scales and modes is crucial for creating bass lines that complement the music. This involves a deep knowledge of music theory.
• Chord Progressions: Unlike guitarists who often play full chords, bassists need to understand how to outline chord progressions through single notes and arpeggios.

4. Technique

• Plucking Technique: Mastering different plucking techniques (like fingerstyle, slapping, and popping) is essential for versatility. Each technique requires practice to achieve clarity and precision.
• Muting: Controlling unwanted string noise is a significant aspect of clean bass playing. This involves both hands working in coordination to mute strings that aren't being played.

5. Endurance

• Long Sets: Playing for extended periods can be exhausting, particularly for the left hand. Building endurance is necessary to maintain performance quality throughout a gig.
• Consistency: Unlike other instruments that might take a break during a song, the bass is almost always playing. Maintaining consistent energy and precision over a long set is challenging.

6. Sound and Gear

• Tone Control: Achieving the right tone involves understanding your instrument and amplifier settings, as well as effects pedals. This requires a good ear and a lot of experimentation.
• Equipment Management: Bass gear is often heavier and bulkier. Managing and transporting this equipment can be physically taxing and logistically challenging.

7. Role and Recognition

• Undervalued Contribution: The bass is often underappreciated compared to more prominent instruments like guitar and vocals. Despite being crucial to the band's sound, bassists can struggle with a lack of recognition.
• Versatility: Adapting to different genres and styles is essential. This requires a flexible playing approach and the ability to learn and implement various techniques quickly.

Overcoming the Challenges

While these challenges can be daunting, they are also what make bass playing uniquely rewarding. Overcoming these difficulties leads to personal growth, improved musicianship, and a deeper connection with music. Whether you're laying down a simple groove or navigating a complex solo, every step forward on the bass guitar is a testament to your dedication and passion.
Keep practicing, stay inspired, and remember that every great bassist started with the same challenges. Happy playing! 🎸

I've seen a lot of people forget this lately.

Maliketh was a shadowbound beast given to his Empyrean.

The 2 Fingers existed already during the events of the latest story trailer. They chose Marika as Empyrean. Chose her to succeed the former god of the age.

• "I was once an Empyrean. Of the demigods, only I, Miquella, and Malenia could claim that title. Each of us was chosen by our own Two Fingers, as a candidate to succeed Queen Marika, to become the new god of the coming age." -Ranni
• "An Empyrean...is no mere demigod. In the age of the Elden Ring, and Queen Marika, the precious Empyrean was born. A new god to forge a new Order." -Gowry

But there can be multiple Empyreans at once, multiple candidates for the role. In our age we have Ranni, Miquella and Malenia. So who was Marika's competition?

• The Gloam-Eyed Queen led the apostles. It is said that she was an Empyrean chosen by the Fingers.

Some may ask how do we know GEQ wasn't killed early on during the age of the Erdtree?

• "Sacred sword of the Dusk-Eyed Queen who controlled the Godskin Apostles before her defeat at the hands of Maliketh. The black flames wielded by the apostles are channeled from this sword." -Godslayer's Greatsword
• "The black flame could once slay gods. But when Maliketh sealed Destined Death, the true power of the black flame was lost." - Scouring Black Flame
• "The apostles, once said to serve Destined Death, are wielders of the god-slaying black flame. But after their defeat by Maliketh, the Black Blade, the source of their power was sealed away." - Godskin Apostle Robe
• "Marika's sole need of her shadow was a vessel to lock away Destined Death." - Remembrance of the Black Blade
• "This blade was once imbued with Destined Death" - Black Blade
• "The Rune of Death goes by two names; the other is Destined Death. The forbidden shadow, plucked from the Golden Order upon its creation…" - Enia
• "I stole a fragment of the Rune of Death, and used it to forge the godslaying black knives through fearsome rite." - Ranni

From these it should be clear that the Gloam Eyed Queen had the actual Rune of Death with her, Maliketh defeated her then sealed it inside his own obsidian sword, like it was in the Queen's sword before. These events mark the beginning of the Golden Order. Then Ranni somehow managed to get her hands on a fragment of the Rune (perhaps a fragment of the Black Blade) and again imbued the Rune of Death into weapons. There's quite the trend of this Rune enchanting weapons.
All these descriptions serve to tell us the Gloam Eyed Queen was around before the Golden order proper, and her defeat marks the beginning of the Order. She is of a previous age, and is an Empyrean. Simple conclusion is she fought and lost to Marika. Since Empyreans seem to be demigods exclusively another simple conclusion is that both Marika and GEQ were related to some degree, both relatives of the former god of the age before the Erdtree.
But both were chosen by the 2 Fingers. Meaning the Greater Will was already controlling the Lands Between, the Elden Beast already arrived. I saw theories the gust of wind from the trailer is from the Elden beast impact, no.
The only unknown/hole in this picture is the fact it's a god-slaying flame, and there was once a Godhunt. That means at least one god must have been killed by this. More likely several, for the apostles to have those clothes. We'll probably learn more about this since these dead gods must have been from the era when the crucible civilization was thriving. Perhaps back during that age the power of godhood was not as unique, maybe it was shared, like the symbolic plenitude and variety of life. A true pantheon. Then Marika decided only she will ever have god power. But this last bit is just baseless speculation.

I'm going to do something a bit different and take a close look at two major works from the DC Universe: Darwyn Cooke's The New Frontier, and James Robinson and Paul Smith's The Golden Age. If you're playing along at home, the texts I'm using are The Absolute New Frontier from 2006 and The Golden Age trade paperback from 1995.
First a bit of personal context: I didn't enjoy The New Frontier when it first came out, serialized in six quite expensive installments. I loved Cooke's art, I loved the use of some of the more obscure DC war characters, and I loved the characterization of the Martian Manhunter, but the narrative didn't work for me when read in small monthly doses back in 2004. I had read all of the full-length work Cooke had done up until 2004, and none of it had disappointed me at all. But The New Frontier seemed to read more like a tour through the 1950s and 1960s than an actual story. It wasn't until the final issue that I really understood what Cooke was leading up to, but then it was over, and I didn't have the time or the inclination to dig out the back issues and read the whole thing in one sitting. Even when I got the two-volume trade paperback collection a couple of years ago (in an eBay lot of trade paperbacks I bought off of none other than comic book scholar George Khoury), I still didn't bother to read it. To paraphrase Hemingway's Frederic Henry, we don't do the things we want to do.
So I never actually read the entire text of The New Frontier until this past winter, when I was able to sit down with the luxurious Absolute edition and dive into Cooke's illustrated world. I enjoyed it immensely, enough that I wanted to reread it again this summer, which is what I have just done, and now I want to talk about it. But I don't want to talk about it in isolation, and I'm interested in the connection between texts, so I'll also talk about its logical precursor: The Golden Age.
Like The New Frontier, Robinson and Smith's The Golden Age deals with the era between the 1940s and the 1960s. The era in which the comic book Golden Age grew into the comic book Silver Age. The era in which America was undergoing its own transformation, moving from threats abroad to suspicion at home. And just as I had difficulty enjoying The New Frontier as a serialized comic, I couldn't appreciate The Golden Age in that manner either. I only bought the first two issues, actually, back in the early 1990s, and then I lost interest, vaguely thinking that I might buy it as a collected edition some day (even though collections were not guaranteed the way they are today). I did buy it when the trade paperback was released, and because I had never finished it originally, I read the collection immediately. And I liked it. But I thought it was deeply flawed.
I reread The Golden Age yesterday, after thinking about it in regards to The New Frontier. It's not a surprising connection, after all. Cooke himself claims The Golden Age as an inspiration for his own work. But my memory of The Golden Age was a bit hazy, and I recalled it being a much more cynical view of the territory than what Cooke achieved in The New Frontier. My recall was pretty accurate--Robinson and Smith present a quite cynical view of the late Golden Age America.
Now that I've read both works back-to-back, I'm interested in exploring what each says about super-heroes, what each says about America, and how each achieves its (very different) effects. These are the kinds of things I'll be looking at over the next few days.
James Robinson's use of History in The Golden Age
One of the things that strikes me about both The New Frontier and The Golden Age is the way the creators weave American history into their stories. On the surface, such a technique might not be surprising, especially considering that both tales take place in the past. And while it may be true that a so-called "historical novel" or "period film" would be amiss to neglect the details of history which fit its setting, the same isn't always true for comics.
In comics, stories set in the past tend to take place in some vague memory of the past, without any apparent intent in locking the stories into a particular date or era. Take the typical origin stories, or "Year One" stories which DC Comics' creators have retold again and again. In such a story, whether it be Miller and Mazzuchelli's take on Batman, or Waid, Augustyn, and Kitson's take on the Justice League, the setting lacks a distinct time stamp. The characters are younger, true, but the setting lacks specific period detail. The reason for this isn't at all surprising, because locking the characters' past into a specific date would require some major explanations about their ages in the present. Had Miller time-stamped the date on Batman: Year One, and included captions saying "May 3rd, 1980," or whatever, then that might have worked for a few years, but even if we assume that Batman was only 23 when he took inspiration from that window-smashing flying rodent, according to that temporal continuity, he'd be 50 years old in the current stories. And he's clearly not.
So we expect stories set in the past to avoid any kind of specific references to contemporary history, at least in comics. A recent jarring exception to that can be found in Diggle and Jock's newly released Green Arrow: Year One, in which a young Oliver Queen references the "Kevin Costner" Robin Hood. That means Queen must have become Green Arrow sometime in the mid-1990s, which might explain his age today (if he was 22 in 1992, he'd be 37 today, which might be right), but it also implies that his son Connor must only be a teenager today, and he's clearly older than that. Perhaps the reference will work better 10 years from now when the Kevin Costner reference will become part of the vague historical past, but right now it seems too current to make sense.
Anyway, the other MAJOR exception to the rule of not using historical references in comics is the case of stories set during World War II. Even comic books written at the time of WWII regularly included time-stamp references in a way that later comics tended to avoid. Yes, since then, Superman has met Kennedy, and you might see analogues of Bill Clinton or George W. in a story or two, but in the 1940s heroes came face to face with major historical figures (contemporaries to them) on an almost daily basis. Here's FDR! Here's Superman grabbing Hitler on a cover! Here's Tojo! Here's Hawkman enlisting in the army to fight overseas! Etc. Such close ties between "comic book reality" and real-life events never matched the heights of the WWII comics.
And that's why later writers, Roy Thomas MOST prominently among them (he practically invented the whole idea of historical nostalgia super-hero comics), felt compelled to weave actual historical events into the retelling of stories from the WWII era. Thomas's Invaders for Marvel and his All-Star Squadron for DC playfully fit the timeline of actual US history into the fictional timeline of the past super-heroes. In his letter columns, Thomas would often explain (or justify, for the more contentious fans) how the chronology worked.
But, other than WWII era-stories, most comic book stories that take place in the past (unless they are time travel stories, which have their own rules) DO NOT USE SPECIFIC HISTORICAL REFERENCES. It's weird to imagine novels or films avoiding such references—they would surely be criticized for it—but in comics, it's commonplace.
So, in the case of both The New Frontier and The Golden Age, you have two rather significant violations of that standard "rule." And both of which seem deeply indebted to the type of approach Roy Thomas favored so much.
Let's take The Golden Age first, since it was published a decade before Cooke's work. The Golden Age seems like a logical off-shoot of Thomas's All-Star Squadron. It features many of the same characters, and Johnny Quick, a relatively obscure DC character from the past, would certainly not have been a suitable narrator for the story without the characterization Thomas provided in years of All-Star Squadron stories. James Robinson is clearly building on the foundation Thomas created. So, it's not surprising that he would, like Thomas, blend US history into his story. Yet Robinson's approach differs in two distinct ways: (1) He doesn't seem interested in the exact historical details and how they fit into his timeline—he seems more interested in the general sense of historical forces of the time, and (2) Unlike Thomas, who was writing out of a Golden and Silver Age optimism and a belief in the American Dream, Robinson was writing from a post-Watchmen perspective, as a foreign-born writer, who could play with the cynical expectations of the time.
Thus, Robinson gives us coke-sniffing "super-heroes," corruption, brutality, and sex in a tale which features the "pure" heroes of the DC Golden Age of comics. Robinson's approach is not to use specific elements of McCarthyism or the Red Scare (even though those ideas are referenced at least once), but to use the general sense of paranoia and panic, the cynical manipulation of the public for personal gain, and the looming threat of the bomb.
Ultimately, however, Robinson uses all of this as a backdrop for a traditional super-hero romp. The coke-sniffing "super-hero" turns out to be Hitler in disguise!!! (Well, actually the brain of Hitler in the body of a former kid sidekick—talk about a symbol of corruption!) And the hero-turned-power-hungry-politician in the form of the patriotic Mr. America turns out to be old JSA villain the Ultra-Humanite, who knows a thing or two about brain transplants. So, in the end, it's just a classic Golden Age story about punching Hitler and defeating an evil genius.
But it's Robinson's historical subtext which makes the story resonate. It's his use of those undercurrents of paranoia and despair which make these formerly perfect heroes of the past seem flawed and human. His story starts dark and becomes darker but, by the end, Robinson's veil of cynicism falls away, and he reveals himself to be a humanist, if not an optimist. His reverence for these Golden Age characters would not let them be truly corrupted—it had to be evil masterminds and Hitler all along.
And that, perhaps, is one of the failures of The Golden Age. The shock of the initial chapters is just a ruse, and as low as these characters seem to sink, everything can be explained by pseudo-science and comic book logic.
It's just another Justice Society of America story, ultimately, but it's a good one. And Robinson's use of the undercurrents from that era of history make it work, even if it never transcends its roots.
The New Frontier and Camelot
While The Golden Age used the historical subtext to evoke currents of paranoia and doom in a super-hero story, The New Frontier approaches history with a different agenda. As Ultimate Matt pointed out in response to yesterday's post, The Golden Age is labeled an "Elseworlds" title, which not only grants it an exemption from DC continuity, but it allows more freedom for the creators to take the characters and setting in a fresh direction.
The New Frontier, however, is not labeled as an "Elseworlds." And yet, it strays far more from the currently accepted version of continuity than The Golden Age does. The key word there is "accepted." Darwyn Cooke, in his annotations, states that he approached The New Frontier with a set of rules:

1. The timeline is real and covers 1945 to 1960. Silver Age characters appear at the time DC started publishing them.
   
2. Retcons haven't happened yet.
   
3. No New Frontier retcons could contradict original continuity—they had to complement existing continuity or show a fresh point of view.
   
4. When the story ended, everything had to be as it was when the JLA debuted in Brave and the Bold #28.
   
5. Snapper Carr does not exist.
   

In other words, you should be able to pull out your original comics from that era (or the Archive editions) and read them concurrently with The New Frontier and nothing Cooke does should contradict what happens in those old comics.
The problem with the continuity is that the comics from that era didn't have any continuity. It was never explained how a character could be on the moon in one issue of his own comic, and under the ocean in the same month in his Justice League adventure. All Golden and Silver Age DC continuity is a retcon. So what Cooke did was create his own continuity—he made his own sense out of the various adventures as they were originally published, although the bulk of the book deals with the time between major events. Just like The Golden Age, The New Frontier is about filling in the gaps.
While James Robinson filled the pre-Silver Age gap with an almost allegorical tale of Cold War paranoia and corruption, Darwyn Cooke fills the gap with a sense of wonder and idealism, and he uses his attitude toward history to solidify that tone.
Cooke's approach takes three strands: (1) The Right Stuff-inspired history of that era, embodied by the test pilots and early astronauts, (2) The early promise of the Kennedy administration, and (3) The strange DC comics history as seen in the stories published during that time. Cooke uses the first two strands to illuminate the latter. He puts the Silver Age ascension into perspective as part of a generation of hope and achievement. He shows that the formation of the Justice League was not a random incident, but part of a larger historical movement which led (in our reality) to things like the Peace Corps and Apollo 11.
Cooke ties together such disparate elements as The War that Time Forgot, The Challengers of the Unknown, Dr. Seuss, and all of the characters who would join the initial incarnation of the JLA into a single narrative. And although it takes quite a while before the villain emerges and the heroes band together, the narrative is structured around the real historical forces that would have shaped the creation of these characters. John Broome doesn't wax poetically about the symbolism of Hal Jordan's career as a test pilot in the original Green Lantern run from the Silver Age, but Cooke takes the fact that he was a test pilot and places him in the actual context of such a man. He even includes a scene where the young Jordan meets Chuck Yeager.
That's quite a different approach to history than we saw in The Golden Age, which covers a very similar time frame.
Although Cooke didn't intend (according to his "rules") to change any of the original stories, his interpretation of "fresh point of view" allows him to add things which would have been more historically true even if they weren't addressed in the comics of the time. For example, he not only changes Wonder Woman into an almost plump, hawkish, zestful character (to signify her Greek origins and Amazon heritage), but he creates an entirely new character to illuminate the civil rights struggle of the time. Since he had no black DC characters to draw upon, he created a Silver Age analogue to Steel, the black Superman ally. The Silver Age Steel, unlike his modern equivalent, isn't a technological marvel. Instead, this earlier incarnation of John Henry suffers at the hands of the KKK before taking vengeance, and ultimately dying when he's betrayed by an uncaring white America (symbolized by a blonde little girl, who points out his location to his pursuers). John Henry never meets the Justice League or teams up with any heroes. His death doesn't affect them at all, really, since they didn't know him. But Cooke includes a scene where Edward R. Murrow mourns the fallen hero and laments the state of the country, bringing an actual historical personage into the DC story.
The civil rights subplot, although powerful, is overwhelmed by the exceeding optimism of the other plot threads. Cooke's America, as full of conflict as it might have been, is one of scientific progress and movement toward a brighter future. His villain, ultimately revealed to be Dinosaur Island itself (a sentient being who has unleashed monster after monster), is even more absurd than the Hitler-brain-transplant nemesis in The Golden Age, but because Cooke accentuates the fun and spectacle of the super-heroes (and, to be clear, his emphasis is on the men and women in the costumes, and the risks they take for their heroism), the absurdity of the villain doesn't detract from the story.
Both The Golden Age and The New Frontier end with similar images (the first appearance of the Justice League banded together) and similar sentiments (hope for the future), but where James Robinson built that hope out of the wreckage of the 1940s, Darwyn Cooke builds it out of the dreams of the men and women who sacrificed for the promise of tomorrow.
Both books end with optimism for comic books and optimism for our country, but they took starkly different approaches to get there.
The Unstoppable Force of Progress: Characterization in The New Frontier
Since both The New Frontier and The Golden Age re imagine comic book chronology through one part actual US history, one part comic book history, and one part imagination, it's not surprising to find both Cooke and Robinson taking liberties with the characterization of these pre-Silver Age heroes. Both creators ask the question asked by any creator attempting to retell stories from the past: Okay, this is how they were portrayed, but what were the characters who did these things REALLY like?
I'll start by looking at The New Frontier. Cooke doesn't focus his story on one dominant point of view the way Robinson does (with Johnny Quick), but he tells his story through a few central characters:
Rick Flagg: Leader of the WWII-era Suicide Squad (and presumably the father, or grandfather, of the Ostrander-penned incarnation). Cooke presents him as a tough guy cliché. He's a Hemingway hero—he does what needs to be done and doesn't whine about it or waver in his determination. In Act III of the narrative, his position in the story is replaced by the similarly-characterized King Faraday, who also does what needs to be done, although he seems to have more internal conflict than Flagg. Faraday is a spy, after all, not a soldier. But both characters represent a government which has the best interests of the country in mind. If they hurt a few individuals along the way, that's a necessary sacrifice for the good of the many.
Hal Jordan: The man who would be Green Lantern is NOT portrayed as a cocky rocket jock, as he usually is in contemporary interpretations. Cooke turns his lack of fear into a self-destructive streak stemming from his face-to-face act of self-defense in Korea. In Cooke's universe, Jordan doesn't immediately become a hero just because an alien handed him a ring. It takes time for Jordan to learn that he deserves to be a hero, and that's a large part of what The New Frontier is about. He doesn't reveal himself in Green Lantern costume until AFTER he risks his life to save the world working as a pilot. The two-page "hero shot" of the characters walking towards camera (a la The Right Stuff) shows some costumed heroes, but Jordan is wearing a flight suit. Cooke seems to be showing that he needed to prove himself TO himself before he could accept his new identity, but his reluctance to use the power of the ring leads to Nathaniel Adam's death. (Adam is later reborn as Captain Atom in the comics, but that doesn't happen in this story, and as far as Jordan should be concerned, Adam is dead.) Cooke doesn't provide Jordan with any time for remorse, though, since he needs to use his ring to kick alien butt. The ring, by the way, is also shown as a symbol of destructive energy. When Jordan first uses it, he cannot control it, and it causes great damage. Cooke, then, seems to indicate that the ring might symbolize nuclear energy, and the subtext would be that Jordan's hesitance to use it led to another hero's death. Ultimately, Jordan is Cooke's symbol of the Kennedy era: conflicted, yet determined to bring forth a positive future—harnessing great powers for the good of the nation (and the world).
John Jones, the Manhunter from Mars: Jones says, "...this is a world where good and evil struggle in all levels of existence. I want to be a force for good." That's a simplistic view of humanity, but it's one seemingly shared by Cooke throughout this work. Good and evil may not be easily discernible on the surface, and Cooke gives us the threatening-looking John Henry (with a hangman's hood) as a hero and a little blonde girl as a villain, but the line between good and evil is absolute (and, in fact, John Jones assumes the role of a film-noirish detective so he can find the evil beneath the surface appearance of the world). Jones defines this ethical stance for the reader, and it represents the code of Golden and Silver Age comic books, which lacked anything but absolutes. Even though Cooke might try to provide some not-so-subtle shades of gray (Jordan as a murderer, Wonder Woman as feminist avenger, an undercurrent of xenophobia), his view of history seems to echo the simplicity of the comic book stories of the era. Individuals may not have always done the right things at all times, but it was an era of progress, and good triumphed over evil. The subtext could also indicate that governmental order triumphed over chaotic nature, with the unified heroes, under the leadership of the US government, destroying a threat that wasn't so much malicious as it was animalistic.
Even though Cooke's characterization of some of these characters, Hal Jordan in particular, might not match traditional representations of these individuals, I think it works in the context of the story. The characters serve the story and add a few layers to the text, but it's primarily a historical action spectacle, a celebration of progress over stagnation, and Cooke's characterization unifies the text. I don't think his characters have many hidden depths, but I think their lack of depth matches a story which is primarily about the grand force of history.
As one final observation: Cooke is actually better at small character moments with the minor characters than he is at developing convincing lead characters. The death of Johnny Cloud, Jimmy Olsen's eagerness, the sassiness of Carol Ferris, and several other character bits show Cooke's facility on the small scale, even if his epic narrative doesn't provide the opportunity for subtle nuances with the major characters.
Characterization in The Golden Age: Dragging Heroes to Earth
While Cooke ignores anyone else's retroactive continuity to graft archetypal personalities onto the early Silver Age heroes in The New Frontier, Robinson takes characters straight out of Roy Thomas's All-Star Squadron (like Johnny Quick on the left here) and Young All-Stars and sends them on a dark journey into the 1950s. Robinson does not re imagine these characters drastically, although he seems to do so with Mr. America (but that's part of his narrative ruse). Instead, he takes their established characterization and expands upon it by adding seeds of self-doubt, paranoia, and despair as the characters face a world in which the villains are not as easily identified as they once were. Robinson misdirects the reader at first by pretending to adopt a simplified Watchmen approach, pretending that he's showing what these characters would have been like without costumed villains to fight or gangsters to punch, when, in truth, he's simply changed the nature of the evil to something more covert and less easy to spot. (Which might seem Watchmen-esque as well, except Alan Moore showed us that the heroes were the villains in that story, and here, Robinson ultimately reveals that secret villains with brain-transplant powers were behind the whole thing from the beginning.)
Here's a quick rundown of the central characters in The Golden Age:
Johnny Chambers, a.k.a Johnny Quick: Johnny not only provides the book-ends to the story but, as a documentary filmmaker, he provides the exposition which sets up the story context. One of the things Robinson does NOT do well here, by the way, is clearly distinguish between narrative voice (provided through white, rectangular caption boxes), and newsreel voice over (also provided by white, rectangular caption boxes), although perhaps the colorist was supposed to use different color cues for each and didn't. The CHARACTERS who narrate, like Johnny Chambers, each have their own style of caption—Johnny's are rounded and blue, as you can see in the image. Actually, it's not that it's so difficult to identify the narrative voice, it's just that there is an omniscient narrator who pops up every once in a while for no good reason, and tells us things about the story sometimes, while other times he sounds like he's trying to give us character thoughts but not really: the highly subjective "fingers...fumbling...focusing...trying to..." immediately follows the objective "a photographer lurks among the rubble." The photographer is the one who's fingers are supposedly fumbling as he tries to snap the photo, so why does the caption sound like a bad Batman internal monologue? This really has nothing to do with Johnny Chambers, but I just wanted to point out this major flaw in the narration throughout. With so many characters (Johnny being one) actually providing narration through captions, why does Robinson add an omniscient narrator also? It's jarring and ineffective. It's like he took the strategies of Watchmen with the multiple points of view, and then spliced the conventional narrator on top of it. It just doesn't work.
But a few more things about Johnny: He smokes, and he wears glasses. He still has his powers, but even though they would help him in his day job, he doesn't use them. And he's incredibly suspicious, which is the characteristic that makes him the character the reader most identifies with. He's also lost the woman he loves because he works too hard, although he gets her back in the end. In short, he's a slightly older (although he actually seems to get younger as the story progresses, perhaps symbolizing his return to heroic stature), slightly more sullen, slightly more flawed version of the character we saw in the comics produced in the 1980s (even though those stories were set in the 1940s). He refers to his costumed self as "That Jerk!" at the beginning of the story, but ends on a hopeful note as he describes a "new age...fresh and clear and bright...as sterling silver!" He's never really a cynic, but his pessimism and self-loathing turns to optimism in the end (even quickly dismissing the threat of McCarthyism to look ahead to the glowing future of super-heroics).
Paul Kirk, a.k.a Manhunter: If we play out the James-Robinson-is-trying-to-do-Watchmen-but-not-as-well game a bit more, we could say that if Johnny Chambers is the Dan Dreiberg analogue (the low-self-esteem voice of reason and calm) then Paul Kirk is clearly the Rorschach character. He's the crazy one who will surely upset the apple cart, yet isn't that what has to happen in order to get to the truth? That's his role, anyway. Unlike Rorschach (in his insane way), Kirk doesn't have a methodical approach to uncovering the truth. In fact, he's tormented by the truth, which lies buried beneath mind implants, exploding into awareness only through a series of horrible dreams. He seems deeply disturbed because of the War, but he's actually deeply disturbed because of the secrets he knows. He's another character, like Johnny, who seems to become more youthful and vibrant in the final Act, when he is able to unleash his demons through old-fashioned fisticuffs. Unlike Johnny, though, he visibly suffers for a long time before he reaches the point of action. Here's a sample of his internal monologue from one of his many tortured dreams: "Save the eagle. Save it. Save—n...no...nooooohhhh!!" Then he wakes up and thinks, "Still afraid." That's about the extent of his characterization. He's tormented, fearful, and knows he should be better than that. And, "save the eagle?" Geez, I wonder what in the world that could possibly mean in a book about corruption within the American government. Clearly, even though this book is directed at an older audience than the original Golden Age tales, Robinson keeps his symbolism quite simplistic.
Tex Thompson, a.k.a. Mr. America, and Daniel Dunbar, a.k.a. Dan the Dyna-Mite: These are the two characters most radically changed from their Golden Age counterparts. Mr. America was a whip-wielding patriotic hero and Dan was a kid sidekick who later, under Roy Thomas's writerly guidance, became one of the lead characters in Young All-Stars. In Robinson's story, Mr. America becomes a corrupt politician who seeks power by any means necessary, and Dan the Dyna-Mite becomes America's beloved Dynaman, the only active costumed crime fighter of the time. And he snorts coke. And he's evil.
Neither of these two characters have internal monologues via captions for the reader, because that would give away the twist. Tex Thompson is not really who he seems, for he has the brain of the evil Ultra-Humanite (who has in previous stories adopted the forms of a gigantic white gorilla and a hot ex-starlet, among others). And Daniel Dunbar, who has fallen so far from grace in our eyes (a former teen sidekick with a drug problem whoring around) actually has the BRAIN OF ADOLF HITLER!
So there's not much to say about the characterization here, since these are two evil characters in the most simplistic way. What is interesting, though, is that (a) Robinson chooses one character, Thompson, who seems vaguely sleazy to modern readers anyway, what with that whip and the mustache, and when he's shown to be corrupt, we can buy into it, falling into Robinson's trap of thinking that it's just a regular dude becoming corrupted by power; and (b) Robinson's use of the pure and innocent Dunbar is also a good choice, because it is not only shocking to see him corrupted so extremely (before the truth of the brain-swap is revealed), but it's a nod to cultural expectations about former child stars, who, by the 1990s, were expected to grow up and become criminals or drug addicts or worse, at least by our tabloid-fascinated society.
Like a director who makes his film better through excellent casting, Robinson uses the right two ex-heroes in the apparent role of the villains. His bait-and-switch works, although I was personally disappointed that the threat turned out to be external (evil villains) and not the corruption of these characters from within.
Robinson uses other characters to show the corruption of innocence and loss of the heroic dream. Robotman, so noble in Roy Thomas's All-Star Squadron, has lost any humanity by the time of this story—he's pure machine, while Alan Scott, Green Lantern is conflicted about his duty as a business leader and law-abiding citizen and his passion for ring-slinging and butt-kicking. Hourman is shown to be addicted to his Miraclo pills, while the man once known as the Tarantula is an egoist with writer's block. Ted Knight, Starman, who Robinson would go on to write with great depth and sensitivity in the ongoing series about Jack Knight, is a mad genius who is trying to put the pieces of this shattered world together through science.
I should add here that Robinson, unlike Cooke, isn't drawing from the original sources as the basis for his story. He's adapting his characterizations from the work done during contemporary comics, as Roy Thomas provided retroactive characterization (and explanations) for the WWII-era heroes. Robinson is building on the layers which Roy Thomas built upon the layers which Gardner Fox (among others) built.
Overall, Robinson does provide a sense of disillusionment in his characterizations in this story, even if his narrative technique is sometimes sloppy or inconsistent. Cooke tried to add a bit of humanity to iconic characters in his work, but he was mostly interested in the icons of the era. Robinson drags his characters down into the muck and then builds them back up again, hoping to show how their inner humanity wins out (with all of its flaws) in the face of systematic adversity. Cooke's characters inhabit the skies, the stars. Robinson's characters live on the ground.
So, the final verdict, after looking at The Golden Age and The New Frontier for a week: Not much different than my initial assessment after reading them both last weekend. The Golden Age is flawed because of its inconsistent narrative point of view and it's cheap, brain-swapping revelations. Robinson and Smith capture the disillusionment and paranoia of the time quite well, but it all amounts to nothing except a superhero slug fest in the end. It's 80% of a great work, and 20% of stuff that doesn't quite fit (including the optimistic ending, which seems unearned). As part of a larger, genre-wide trend to make super-heroes more "realistic," violent, and depressing, I'm not a huge fan of its influence.
The New Frontier is flawed, but it's a flawed masterpiece, and I can imagine revisiting the story many times in the future (and I can't say the same about The Golden Age). Cooke tries to include too much in the narrative, and the main threat of Monster Island isn't presented as well as it needs to be, but the book contains dozens of amazing sequences, and it features sharp, engaging characters who flash in and out of the story. The speed of the narrative demands that the book be read quickly, and it works best when read this way, not because it allows the reader to gloss over the weak parts of the story, but because The New Frontier is an overture, and can be best appreciated when all of its notes are heard in rapid sequence. I didn't love it when it first came out, in the completely inappropriate floppy installments, but I loved it after reading the Absolute version a week ago, and I love it just as much after studying it closely all week.
As one final thought: Both The Golden Age and The New Frontier tap so deeply into comic book lore, and I am so deeply embedded in it myself, that I wonder if either of these works has any merit for a "civilian" reader. And I wonder if, perhaps, the darker, more "realistic" tone would be appealing to a non-comics fan, more so, perhaps, than the wide-eyed optimism (tinged with bits of darkness) seen in Cooke's work. Or would the non-comics fan find both stories completely useless and without merit? Are both works examples of the snake swallowing its own tail? I've already been swallowed by the snake of comic book geekery, so I can't answer that one.
SOURCE

This is my first time posting something like this on here, so I sincerely hope you all will enjoy this! This is the start of a series based on a build I did for the Star Dust CYOA, by Star Dust Anon, with additional DLC introduced by Bob Grue! Additional shout out to the person who heavily inspired me to even make a series in the first place; u/ragingreaver! Go check out their amazing fic, Into the Mouth of the Abyss, if you have the time.
Alright, that's enough outta me; here's what you all came here for!
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“Welcome to the Stardust Space Station; the Crossroads of Civilized Space, where Opportunity waits at every vendor!”
The announcement from the station’s AI rang out clearly from the vaulted ceiling as the newest charter ship unloaded its cargo of fresh tourists. The Liberation sat motionlessly in space, connected tenuously to a webbed docking aisle that served as the station’s airlock corridor. Hundreds of people from all backgrounds crossed in front of one bewildered younger man, the last to file out from the charter ship, as they stood at the intersection of the Liberation’s docking corridor and the main thoroughfare. Still dressed in the dingy vacsuit that served as his only uniform, he gawked openly at the soft-lit paths marked along the polished vac-proof tiled floor. The boy skipped and hopped awkwardly along, attempting to avoid tripping over his own feet as his heels knocked against the underside of his oversized luggage. His head craned upward as he dumbly stared through the enormous panes in the slanted walls, basking in the unparalleled view of the rocky planet that the station orbited. The ruddy tones of the planet’s surface and the criss-cross lines of civilization were not altogether unique amongst civilized space, however it was an exceptionally rare sight for a denizen of Erebus. The entire journey would have been an afternoon fantasy for a former citizen of the Luos Syndicate like Damien Raynes, yet a look of soft comfort could be found on his face as he began to accept he was no longer dreaming.
His absentminded journey came at a cost, causing him to stray from his intended walking lane and to collide with another station occupant who was similarly distracted by a call on a holoscreen hovering before them. They spilled a sweet-smelling, cream-colored liquid from their drink container on nearly every inch of their chest, any scant remaining fluid splattering onto the floor around them. Damien’s eyes went wide, and he managed to stammer out a shaky apology before swiftly running off down another lane, heading into a completely new direction in the hopes of evading the enfolding confusion he caused. By the time his aching legs and burning lungs forced him to slow his pace, he found himself in a different section of the station entirely, and he marveled at the variety of wares displayed in nearby vendor stalls. He took a moment to gingerly retrieve the credit stick loaded with more funds than was thought possible to receive, and checked once again to see that it read the same amount. 470 million credits displayed on the miniscule holoscreen that projected from the device, and Damien struggled to grasp the reality of him simply being handed a fortune. His benefactor had claimed membership to the Talons, a clandestine organization with the notorious reputation of a classy, skilled, and intelligent pirate faction. He was not sure what machiavellian scheme would necessitate uplifting an ignorant youth like himself, but he felt overwhelming joy to finally be free of the poverty and unsafe conditions of his home on Erebus.
Determined to take this opportunity to live his life to the fullest, his eyes scanned every protruding sign and placard for clues that would lead to his true destination: the zero grav drydock and shipyard. Despite the ship’s modest size, it managed to contain an area solely designated for the construction and refitting of space vessels. In order to maximize it’s serviceable capability, it was not actually located inside the station, but instead extended into space, parallel to its axis of rotation. After experiencing the freedom of flight through uncharted space, Damien felt the growing desire to captain a vessel of his own bloom within his chest. He wished to sail through space, whenever he wished it, to whatever destination he so chose. When Damien reached the drydocks, he talked to a grease-stained man named Ulrich Pelt assured that he could outfit any starship he could get his hands on, adding on boastfully that every square inch of it would surpass Damien’s standards and expectations by the time Ulrich and his crew were finished. Utterly convinced by the man’s apparent capability, Damien soon found a broker who showed him a listing of known manufactured hull types, by every major and minor manufacturer. One hull type in particular grabbed his notice, holding it tight in a vice grip, though he did not recognize the company or group - an organization simply listed as the Heralds who named their ship hulls with strangely organic designators. The broker noticed Damien’s awestruck expression as a beacon of financial opportunity, and flashed a knowing grin. Apparently, the Heralds were a race of highly advanced, but seemingly extinct, aliens that existed throughout the galaxy prior to known civilization. The only trace of them or their civilization existed as cryptic artifacts and their incredibly limited supply of esoteric space vessels.
Damien mouthed a silent prayer to whichever unknown goddess from whatever far-flung rock in the galaxy for the apparent blessing, as the broker informed him they had recently traded for a Herald Destroyer-class ship to be delivered to the station within the month. Allegedly, someone had sold the ship off in order to get it onto the wider market and out of sight of their incredibly nosy neighbors. Coincidentally, it met nearly every mark and metric that Damien had in mind for a star vessel; being a fast yet durable and destructive craft with more than enough room for a sizeable crew. He sat down with several Stardust Port Authority workers, including the confident Ulrich, and spent long hours of the station’s ‘day’ to detail the modifications and alterations to be added, alongside detailed explanations of every major ship system and part. When the dealings finally came to a close, and the broker and engineer’s commission fees were met in full, Damien’s extravagant fortune was whittled down to slightly over 70 million credits. Once the specifics of his commission were recorded in triplicate, he received his own copy and was sent off to wander the station for something to occupy his time.
Surprisingly, despite the amount of engaging activity that occupied his day, exhaustion had yet to creep into his bones, and he felt an eagerness to explore urge him onward throughout the station’s many levels.
Fortunately, the SDS was a neutral melting pot of backgrounds and cultures, which allowed for a staggering amount of diversity in cuisine and entertainment. One could easily gorge themselves on New Terran hamburg steak, or sip Valhallan spirits, all while enjoying the gyrations of Freeport dancers. After many rounds of agonizing deliberation, Damien finally settled on a small installation that was practically an alleyway between two established compartments. There was only enough room to sit or stand, and the bar where the sole chef and proprietor worked was little more than a repurposed shelf. Despite the environment, Damien found himself sampling Prion-spiced meats and noodle based entremets drenched in a smoky, flavorful sauce. He drank in the experience with a warm, fully belly, finally allowing fatigue to soak into his muscles. The content sensation of a satisfying meal threatened to make him lose all sense of decorum and fall soundly asleep in the corner of the restaurant, but an excited snippet of conversation filtered into the tight space from the wider corridor at that moment, anchoring him to wakefulness.
“Can you believe it? Nearly a half million more creds, and I’ll finally be joining you in the stars!” A jovial younger adult, wearing the style typical of most lower-class Federation citizens, announced as they bounced alongside an older, grizzly Federation pilot, judging by their own appearance.
“You’d be better off buying up cargo and sticking to the safe trade routes, Malkheim. It takes a better pilot than you to perform a successful patrol.” The older man replied sternly, not sparing even a glance toward their young follower as the pair plodded down a glowing walking lane.
“Ugh… I’ve passed the piloting course with flying colors, and I know my way around the ship systems, sir.” The youth, Malkheim, retorted with a tone heavy with sarcasm.
“Besides,” they continued, shoving their hands into the pockets of their environment suit, “it’s not like I need to know how to do sub-light slingshots around high grav bodies for a firefight with pirates!”
“It’s not guaranteed you won’t need to, but it never hurts to be prepared.” The older man, likely a Star Captain in the Federation by his demeanor, grumbled in a final response. Their conversation likely continued well beyond that, but by that point the pair had walked out of earshot of the alcove bar, and the ambient din of station noise swallowed their voices without leaving a mote of discernable sound.
As Damien languidly rose from his chair, the importance of the Captain’s words began to settle upon his soul. In truth, he did not have the slightest formation of a thought toward even the most basic aspects of ship piloting, due to his assumption that it would all be performed by a dutiful ship AI. He felt the desire to tackle his lackluster qualifications, but the rugged molars of sleep were already grinding away at his mind, gradually turning each though into a worthless, gray paste. He could barely manage to shuffle his feet underneath him while keeping one eye open, and thus his primary course of action would be to find an acceptable place to collapse into a heap. Stardust Station housed many hab-lounges and coffin-hotels, though many avoided the latter due to crippling claustrophobia. One such business, boasting a discount in observation of some Federation Holiday, had a welcoming holo-sign hovering nearby. Despite the station existing in a neutral patch of space, many companies did not feel deterred from exerting what little sovereignty they could muster in the immediate vicinity of their businesses. Feeling a gust of serendipity urge him onward, Damien proceeded to stumble awkwardly past their front door. In his haze of lethargy, he could barely assemble enough conversational skills for long enough to tactfully book a hab for himself.
Although the clerk held enough disdain normally reserved for the drunken shamblers that frequented certain sectors of the station, their chosen expression showcased three times the pity of a saint. With some effort, Damien successfully requested a modest, planet-side compartment that he could promptly collapse into.
“Er… certainly, sir. We have just one more fresh hab ready for occupancy. Would you perhaps like a wake-up call along with your complimentary early station-day meal…?” They asked tentatively, slowly pushing over an open pamphlet and a keycard with the number and business’ colorful symbol shining in a dull, holo-light purple.
“Yeahhhhh… sure, that… that sounds amaze-ful…” Damien slurred in response, languidly slapping his hand atop the proffered items before groggily dragging it into a pocket on his dingy vacsuit. He then turned with intention to wander the halls in search of blissful sleep, only to be interrupted by the clerk’s patient, yet somewhat stern voice.
“Sir… you will have to pay in order to use our services.”
“Oh! Oh, yeah. You’re… you’re right about that…” He sheepishly responded, rotating himself to once more face the clerk, before relinquishing his credstick.
The swift report of mechanical keystrokes sounded repetitively in a strange, clerical song, easing the young man into a comfortable trance as he leaned against the counter. The administrative melody must have lulled him too effectively, or else the fangs of sleep may have sunk too deep, as before too long Damien found himself nearly splayed out on the gold-speckled black marble. A rough, forced cough captured his attention a few moments later as his credstick was placed in front of him. The clerk held a practiced smile as he graciously allowed the haggard boy enough time to regain his composure.
“Here is your credit stick, sir. I have entered you into our database for ease of service on any future visits, and I hope you will come to enjoy your stay with us. Thank you for choosing to rest with Habitation West.” The clerk stated, repeating the business’ obvious practiced and professional send-off.
Damien muttered acknowledgment and spun off, dragging himself through the dimly lit hallways beyond the front desk, in search of the door to his own habitation lounge. Thanks to the color coding of the keycard, he did not spend precious moments of lucidity on simple navigation. Instead, he was guided by lines of softly glowing holographic light in muted blue, then purple. They led him straight to the border of his personal, temporary lodgings until he fell past the door into the room itself. Beyond a section of floor-to-ceiling shielded panes, the barren surface of the planet stretched in seemingly every direction, filling the room with a dull orange light. Before he was truly aware of it, his head plummeted solidly against the double layered pillows on the waiting loft bed. Damien rapidly dissolved into the realm of sleep, with his last waking thoughts concerning his amazement toward the pock-marked surface from his new horizontal angle.
Damien eventually awakened to a room soaked in darkness, as the station had since revolved to the planet’s night side. He groaned loudly as he stretched his body to its limit. Groggily pulling himself into an upright position, he slapped a hand onto a light panel by the side of the bed, tinging the room with diffuse, blue light. He took stock of his surroundings for the first time, noting the fairly modern design of the room as a whole. Not only did it possess a cozy reading nook adjacent to the viewing wall, but a loft just above it. His mouth hung agape as realization struck him at once; such an attractive room must have clearly been upsold to him during his time of sleepless stupor the night before.
Damien cursed under his breath, shaking himself fully awake before shuffling out the door of his temporary abode. The silhouetted shade of the planet behind him loomed in the distance as an impassive observer as the grey door slid soundlessly shut.
Recalling his lack of credentials from the day before, the young man decided to stride directly toward the education centers located on the far side of the merchant quarter. He surmised that in order to become a successful pilot capable of sailing the stars, he needed more than passing knowledge of a starship’s systems. He followed the hololanes dutifully, weaving through traffic with little conflict. Upon his arrival, he was surprised to find that the vast majority of offered courses were delivered through virtual environments. He had assumed it would allow for larger classes, or for professors to not be required to be physically present at every lecture. With the flexibility of choice before him, he selected six ‘standard’ courses, which were offered free of charge by the remote institute, as a sort of welcoming incentive. However, any further education would come at a price, with each additional ‘elected’ course being a flat rate of two million credits. Not wanting to overload his mind or his account so early in his journey, he set his sights for a humble course load. The selected curriculum was only eight courses, centering around his desire for a more leisurely adventure among the stars.
The instruction for Basic and Standard Piloting, Computer Science, Cyber Security, and Diplomacy were not excessively intensive, only requiring a handful of practical virtual exams to grasp a full understanding of the topic. As his course load shifted to the more physical studies of Industry, Mechanics, and Standard Combat Training, Damien started to feel the weeks of trilling, virtual model manipulation, and real-time ship assessment begin to break him down. Before he experienced the sophistry of space station life, he believed it would be impossible to become exhausted from simulated exercise, or envision the inner workings of a star vessel as anything other than rapturous. Eventually, he found himself dragging himself along to and from station lodging and school, bubbles of nausea rising within his stomach each time he overheard engineers speak of performing maintenance. As the curriculum neared its end, Damien resolved himself to never undertake vital ship operation without the bare minimum of assistance, and grinned wistfully at the prospect of hiring a crew of his own.
After an exceptionally grueling exam period passed, Damien graduated from the SDS Captain’s Institute with above average marks in all courses he held a passion for. As he strode freely from the institute, he silently resolved to be more sparing with his course load, should he yearn for more education. As budding elation built within him, a snippet of conversation from two younger Federation citizens slowed his steps to a halt.
“So you know the deal, right? Once I get the ship, you help me build up a couple million creds, and then you can get your own frigate!”
“Think we can get a good deal by scrapping parts? I don’t think we really need that second arsenal space… We could have really used a lounge, you know.”
“Hey hey hey! My ship, my layout! Besides, there’s enough empty space in the hull, we’ll be able to furnish it with whatever else we’ll actually need as we go along!”
Damien reversed his original heading, making sure to make his way to the proper lane in lieu of haphazardly weaving through oncoming foot traffic. He gave his best attempt to seem naturally interested as he sidled up to the two, even as knots were forming deep in his gut.
“What uh.. What will you guys do to make money? It might be different for a frigate, but renovations are usually really pricey.”
The two Federation citizens exchanged brief looks of confusion mixed with mild irritation before turning to face the curious graduate.
“We’re gonna be couriers. People have places to go, and things they need to be other places. So we’ll be the ones to get them there! I bought one of them Red Dagger frigate hulls to keep things light and fast, but also to keep our cargo space at a premium. They’re gonna hafta pay TOP CRED to use our vessel! Well, eventually.”
“Yeah! And if we can get them to agree to multiple trips, we can even upcharge them as much as twice the going rate! What about you? What are you going to do?”
The question, though expected as a natural part of conversation, hit Damien squarely in the chest. Anxiety curled its long fingers around his extremities as beads of sweat began to dot his brow. He had often thought about his ship, and the things he wished to put on or inside of it as well, but his duties as a pilot failed to fully form in his mind.
“I uh… I still haven’t decided. Lot’s of uh… lots of things to focus on before I can sail off on my first voyage, heh…”
He stammered out a half-hearted defense with a light chuckle, hoping the two wouldn’t notice the stench of incompetence wafting from him in waves. The pair simply shared another quick glance amongst themselves, with unreadable emotion in comparison to the previous time, and shrugged their shoulders in silent acceptance.
“Well… we wish you good fortune out there, on whatever it is you decide on doing!”
“Just uh… leave the shipping and courier business to us professionals, huh?” The first graduate flashed a cocky grin and jabbed a thumb towards his chest before passing Damien by, soon melding into the flow of station denizens along with his partner.
Damien glanced down at himself, taking measure of his person as though he could perceive the entirety of his being. Questions flitted through his mind like light gnats, buzzing incessantly. What was it that he wished to do? Mercenary work? Freighter duty? He considered his yearning for the wider reaches of space beyond the war-blasted rock he grew up on, and reasoned that he could even possibly become an explorer. Not a single future path or occupation crystalized into being, despite his feverish introspection, the only thing resulting from the search being a defeated sigh. He turned himself around then, willing his legs to carry him to some part of the station as he resigned himself to the possibility of a bland, uneventful future.
Next Chapter Latest Chapter

As promised (for those interested) – here’s the second post getting into more technical aspects of going to war. You can find my first post (along with the “about me” part) by clicking on the tag.
A few trigger warnings and disclaimers first:

• Trigger Warning: this post doesn’t deal with the moral aspects of the war. It’s about the cold, pragmatic decisions that go into executing a military operation. I make no moral judgements here – just describing things. And I'm certainly NOT ENDORSING invading places for fun. If you’re easily triggered – you may want to skip this post.
• Disclaimer. My experience is quite relevant. But again, I was not in IDF. Never been to Israel or Gaza. Though I expected that much of what I say translates to IDF’s experience accurately, there are probably many local, and theatre-specific differences I’m not accounting for. Those of you who were in IDF… or maybe have friends or family currently engaged in Gaza – please chime in if anything I’m saying doesn’t ring true.
• An Acknowledgment. We (meaning US forces fighting in the Middle East) have seen our share of chaos and urban combat. But we never had to walk into a city that has been fortified for 15 years for this precise scenario and where nearly 100% of the population was, at least in terms of personal opinion, entirely hostile. Bottom line, I suspect (though don’t know for sure) that certain unique circumstances in Gaza make it much more difficult operationally than what we had to face when entering hostile cities.

Ok, here we go... this one is long.
As a Battlefield, Gaza is Hell.
For a war planner, Gaza is the stuff of nightmares. I honestly can’t think of a worse place to try to enter on a short notice than Gaza. A city fortified for combat for a decade and a half, with planned resupply routes, prepared ammo caches, planned choke points, etc. etc… a population as hostile as it gets. It’s basically hell for any invading force to enter.
And then there are the f---ing tunnels (more on those later). First, let’s talk about invading a place.

Invasions are Awesome (or Catastrophic) … well, they’re always catastrophic for at least one party.

A well-executed combined arms invasion is an awe-inspiring spectacle to behold. Trying to understand the whole thing is difficult to process, because the success of it, when witnessed first-hand and in real time, seemingly makes no sense. In hindsight - it’s a masterclass of cooperation, coordination, planning, and effective execution at massive scale with no room for error.
It’s a massive, violent ballet of small, lethal cogs, all seemingly in complete chaos – and yet somehow, with very little direct communication, getting the job done. If you witness a convoy during an invasion, you’ll see a clusterf*k of ugly vehicles moving very slowly, constantly stopping, soldiers jumping on and off, looking ragged, tired, annoyed. If you talk to any soldier at any given time – you’ll think you’re witnessing the most disorganized sh*tshow ever produced.
The most likely answer you’ll get is “I don’t know what the f—k is going on and where we’re going, I just know that I haven’t taken a sh—t in 3 days, and these a-holes keep shooting at us every couple of hours”. And yet, check the news a day later – and somehow this tired, annoyed, slow war machine advance in leaps and bounds, flanked choke points, and broke through everywhere – all while you got a good night of sleep at home. But talk to the same soldier the next day and you’ll get the same annoyed answer “I don’t know what the f—ck is going on”.
Why am I describing it in such detail? Because to an untrained eye – that’s what things look like on the surface. It seems botched, disorganized, seemingly without rhyme or reason. A reporter witnessing what, at first, appears to be a massive sh*tshow, will likely walk away precisely with the image of a sh*tshow – which will probably set in motion the theme for the coverage.
Except, it’s not a sh*tshow. It’s a carefully planned, coordinated, and organized ballet that takes years of practice, experience, and thoughtful execution to produce.
Side note: there are of course botched invasion – they look seemingly the same on the surface as a well executed operation – but turn out more of a masterclass in hubris, incompetence, and stupidity.
And of course, individual results will vary - – you may be on the “good” side of an invasion and still end up one of the few casualties on your side. Or you could be on the receiving end of Uncle Sam’s fury and still get a lucky shot in that kills a general. .
What Does an Invasion Feel Like when you’re invading? It’s confusing, exhilarating, tiring, scary. But mostly… honestly… boring. Just like most of soldiering – it’s hours and hours of boredom and lack of sleep. The entire time you have to stay vigilant… and the fear never quite goes away. And then those hours of boredom are interrupted by sudden terror of combat and the exhilaration of coming out on the other side. And then the dread that you will have to do that again and again.
What Does it feel like to be Invaded? On the side that gets stomped by the invading force (i.e. this wouldn’t apply to Ukrainians, for instance) – to put simply – it f-ing sucks. It’s also hours of boredom filled with dread and fear. And suddenly, your entire world is on fire. All the “plans” your commanders set in motion fall apart in minutes. Eventually (if you survive the experience) you’ll find out that, by the time you had your contact with the invader, the forward enemy elements were already deep behind you. So uninterested were they in you, that they just rolled by and reported your location to the chasing element for a “clean up”… it’s almost insulting, really.

Well of course IDF would be good at invading, right… they’re the big scary dog with lots of guns, tanks, and aircraft?

This mindset is a dangerous, deadly assumption to make. Having overwhelming force is no guarantee of a successful invasion. The Russians invaded Ukraine with OVERWHELMING force and superior real world experience… and boy did they botch it. Sure, Ukrainians fought bravely and turned out quite competent. But the main factor wasn’t the Ukrainian abilities – it was the incompetence and the failure on the Russian side.
The invader has to out-perform the defender in every aspect. Logistically and operationally – an assault is much more difficult and potentially deadly than a defense. And a large, slow force moving into someone else’s backyard isn’t that hard to bog down and turn it into a bloodbath (as Ukrainians demonstrated).
Combined Arms invasion only works when the arms are actually combined. And it’s a real, difficult skill that requires lots of planning, practice, and precise execution.
Is an Invasion of a Dense Urban Area Different? Yes and no. An urban environment introduces many more unpredictable and dangerous elements. But it’s still an invasion. Broadly-speaking, it’s still all of the above – the same complex and dangerous ballet of planning, coordination, and execution. Except if unfolds in a very, very slow motion. Much more up close and personal. And potentially, much deadlier.

Preparing for the Campaign.

The preparation part is absolutely critical. A massive combined-arms operation is about as complex as things get. At the top, an insanely complex plan must be built – it must account for everything… from the amounts and timing of fuel delivery, to roles and positioning of various combat and support elements, to laying out every route, evaluating every contingency scenario, etc. etc. etc.

• IDF had almost no time to prepare for the invasion of Gaza – that was an enormous disadvantage that’s hard to overstate.
• I’m sure Aman maintained a pretty decent picture with respect to Hamas’ capabilities, logistics, infrastructure, etc… but it certainly wasn’t a complete picture. The worst part about having no warning – there’s no time for combat units to rehearse, work out various operational bugs, etc.

Example: Failure to prepare means death. Something as trivial as not getting your radio comms aligned can botch an entire invasion. The Russians got bugged in Ukraine for many reasons – most of them trivial, stupid, detectable, and avoidable. But they simply didn’t bother to prepare. Tank columns would routinely walk into ambushes because the heavy units didn’t have advanced coordination with air assets or even forward elements. They’d walk into an ambush that a single helicopter could easily suppress – but they couldn’t call it in.
Commanders didn’t have the channels or the correct maps to fire support. I saw overwhelming Russian fire power roll into a trivial ambush, stop… and then have no clue what to do (a American (or IDF) force fraction of that size could’ve rolled through that roadside ambush with barely a delay. But they simply never rehearsed this scenario across all the participating elements (many of which were sorta thrown together) – and so the heavies would get bunched up, infantry would dismount and scatter in the wrong direction… some tanks start backing up and then driving into a wrong field for whatever reason – and seemingly no one bothering to even return fire.
I saw an entire heavy armor battalion wiped out by a force of about 5 Ukrainian dudes with a couple Javelins, a couple machine guns, and a radio to a howitzer team a couple miles away.
A big part of preparation is mental. In peacetime, the training we go through is serious… but one never takes it fully seriously… everyone knows we’re play-acting in a way. Preparing for a real war takes time. The reality dawns slowly. It takes time for a unit to properly gel together a new environment, dust off old skills, string them together in rehearsals much closer to reality, and prepare mentality for the idea that you will soon be shot at (even though you can never fully prepare for it).
IDF didn’t have time to prepare and rehearse. Honestly, I was very worried for them. Especially after Oct. 7^th, when it seemed that everyone was asleep at the wheel. I excepted a semi-botched invasion. But they executed about as flawlessly as it gets. Happy to say I was wrong. Someone certainly was asleep at the wheel on Oct 7^th. But broadly speaking, whatever happened on the 7^th woke up the tiny giant. That fearsome little hedgehog that gained a reputation for punching far above its weight is still there – alive and kicking.

• Jumping a bit ahead… I will do a separate post with a deeper dive into results-to-date. But I can tell you this much – the same thing happened to Hamas that happened to Taliban in 2001 (and to Israel’s enemies in the previous wars). A whole lot of hubris, boasting, stupid decisions – the “Allah is on our side” type of idiotic attitude. They didn’t know what was coming. And they got wrecked. IDF stomped them. Hamas isn’t finished – but it’s a shadow of itself at this point. October 7^th was the biggest error that dumpster fire of an organization has ever made.
• I’m sure there will be lots of sympathizing… of the “well of course, since IDF is so big and strong, and Hamas are these tiny little freedom warriors” variety. Nah… nonsense. A force of tens of thousands luring a heavy, slow-moving enemy into a prepared urban battlefield, with fortifications, pre-planned logistics, ammo caches, etc., etc. – those aren’t the “little guys”. Taking the bait with virtually no notice was a dangerous proposition for IDF. But they took the bait and then ate the fisherman.

But I’ll get to this in more detail in a future post.

First order of battle – prepare the battlefield.

“Prepping the battlefield” is the reason you saw the initial strikes on the buildings before the ground elements moved in. It was not a revenge mission, as Qatari propaganda would have you believe. The buildings weren’t targeted randomly. Every target is a part of a thought-out plan. Every seemingly random target has a point – and it’s never random.
For instance,

• There are the “easy” targets – known (or suspected) “offices” of Hamas, warehouses, potential FOBs, motor pools, communication hubs, etc. Any “offices” with “political affiliation” to Hamas that are easily repurposable or can serve as “friendly” rally points for enemy fighters. Etc. etc.
• Then there are the “clear the path” type of targets. For instance…
• Many of the buildings hit prior to the ground invasion were known (or highly likely) exit points above known tunnel systems. In other words, if there is a high degree of probability that the enemy could emerge in the building’s basement, work their way up, and turn the building into a fortified high-point… especially along a route that’s picked to be an MSR – the prudent thing is to bring that building down in advance. Once you get a column of vehicles onto an MSR – it’s not a decision you can undo easily. And a column of supply trucks stuck behind a disabled IFV and taking fire from four different dimensions – that’s a very bad day.
• Some buildings may be chosen to open up observation and fire support lanes prior to friendly convoys moving through… open up potential choke points for perimeter defense, or even choke off potential parallel and flanking routes, etc.

“Anger” or “Revenge” don’t drive these decisions – as I explained earlier, military operates by objective and tactical necessity (and the “boom” you bring upon a building is very, very expensive). These decisions are calculated and each one has a reason behind it.
Think back to the ballet analogy of an invasion. A ballet needs a clean stage. And the city architecture can create massive tripping hazards. Countless hours went into developing an invasion plan, picking routes, and evaluating every foot of the path the invading force would take. The main “tripping hazards” were identified – and the airstrikes then followed to clear the stage before the curtain lifted.
Story time - real life example. A friend of mine was an MP platoon commander assigned to deliver unruly juveniles to a court building in an area that was “questionable”. Same route, predictable schedule, etc. (the local judge refused to leave the courthouse or make scheduling random and we were trying to “win hearts and minds”). In other words – prime opportunity to ambush a bunch of American Humvees. The route itself was tolerable – turn the convoy into an angry hedgehog, pedal to the metal, and have alternate routes mapped out to bypass trouble. But the square with the courthouse was basically tailor-made for trouble… mostly because of the layout and the surrounding architecture.
My buddy, having seen this movie before, decided he was going to change the ending. He gathered the local community “elders” (some local imams or some sh—t)… pointed to the buildings, and explained via a translator that if he (and the kids they’re protecting) take a single shot – he’s calling fire mission on every single building in the square, and the entire neighborhood will cease to exist.
Not that anyone would’ve authorized such a fire mission, unless the neighborhood really came down on them… and he knew that, of course. But he sounded convincing, the “elders” have already witnessed what American fire support looks like, and they decided to take him at his word and oblige. In three months of this idiotic assignment, not a single shot was fired (though other units got harassed within blocks of that particular square on a daily basis.
Back to IDF and the whole “blowing up buildings” thing. IDF entering Gaza simply didn’t have the luxury to negotiate with Gaza “elders” – Hamas are the elders. Putting myself in IDF’s shoes - If I’m entering an area already known to be preparing a nasty “welcome” … and I’m responsible for bringing my 18-19 year old kids home… Well, I’m sending a whole lot of grief at any building that even thinks to cause me trouble. And if I happen to be wrong – honestly... so be it.

• That doesn’t mean I would deliberately blow up a building known to be full of civilians. First… you try to get the populace to clear the area to begin with. If you have doubts – you try to find a different route. But if there isn’t an alternative route, the MSR is the MSR, and I have a supply convoy idling behind and begging to be hit if the forward element sits there another minute too long – well… I wasn’t the one who architected the f-ing place. Sorry, but you’ll have to rebuild.
• Again, I’m not endorsing invading cities… not making moral judgements one way or another… just explaining the reality as it is.
• And no. These decisions don’t ever sit easy. They stay with you for the rest of your life – questions you’ll never know the answers to. But I’ve already addressed this topic.

Who makes these decisions. For planned destruction (rather than dynamic targets… more on those later) – the decisions are made by military intelligence (and then authorized by whichever command structure happens to be responsible for the theatre). It’s a very hard job. Those guys and gals have to go home with those decisions and live with them too. They’ll never tell you about their internal doubts and questions – that’s not what warriors do. But those doubts and questions are there. If you think that it comes easy and it’s just a “video game” for them – you may be the psychopath in this discussion.
(Yeah, yeah… I know… “how can you pity the IDF – they’re not the ones who got their homes blown up”. Again, the point of this post is pragmatic reality – not moral comparisons or judgements. Of course it sucks to have your home blown up. But I’m explaining a soldier’s POV right now).
But at the end of the day – they have a job to do, and it has three parts. Job one – don’t botch the mission. Job two – help your troops stay alive. Job three – don’t use excessive force and look out for civilians. In that order.
Sidenote: There is a map I saw somewhere – an overlay that shows an old map of the known Gaza tunnels and overlay map of IDF aerial strikes. It shows quite clearly that the strikes weren’t random and follow the tunnel network quite closely. If you’ve seen it and know what I’m talking about – please link it.
Clearing Out Civilians. Again, I’m not in IDF. But from what I understand – they went to great lengths to warn the public before dropping bombs on those objectives. For a reference – we didn’t go to nearly such lengths. We didn’t have a database of numbers to call. Very few interpreters, etc. Generally, you’d try to notify the city to clear itself and, after an afforded period, you move in and hope that the civilians were wise enough to believe you. If IDF’s claims of the leaflets, announcements, and the phone calls they made are true (and I have no reason to doubt them) – it’s far above and beyond of what we (the US) ever did and what any other military in the world would do.

• I wouldn’t assign it to some super-humanitarian quality of IDF. Doubt they care about civilians any more or any less than we do. And giving the enemy too much notice doesn’t help your cause either. But it isn’t Israel’s first rodeo and they were well aware of the type of heat they were going to take from the “public opinion” internationally. But I commend them for trying nonetheless – despite whatever unpleasant personal feelings I’m sure many of them hold toward Gazans at the moment.

How to Clear a City

Following the “shock and awe” – the main force moves in. Fast, violent… preferably at night, to punch through to designated rally points by dawn.
Everyone expects contact upon crossing the border but honestly – that almost never happens. For the infantry on the ground – the first few hours are usually just a lot of fear, anticipation but ultimately, boredom… and strained bladders… and the floor full of Gatorade bottles (PSA: if you see a bottle of Yellow Gatorade in a Humvee – don’t drink it).
Clearing Sectors. The city gets mapped into sectors, and the tedious and very dangerous work of clearing the city begins – sector by sector. Street by street. House by house.
Multiple elements may be operating in parallel to each other – on different assignments. And “not shooting each other” can be a challenge of its own – something to always keep in mind.
The basic idea is – you move into enemy’s neighborhood, essentially announcing “I’m in your house and I’m going to take it – come and stop me”. The forward elements go in, quite literally looking to slug it out with the bravest of the Jihadis.
It’s nothing like the movies, where some badass-looking special operators swoop in and kill everybody. That does happen of course, occasionally and at night – specialized teams will do point raids when a VIP target is identified (or some other compelling reason).
But mostly, you enter a neighborhood with brute force. Lots of big guns and even more rifles. Multiple houses will be getting cleared at the same time by multiple teams, with snipers watching overhead, big guns watching the streets outside, and blocking elements positioning themselves to intercept rabbits.
You never know what’s going to wait for you at a new place. It may seem quiet, but waiting to explode in an ambush. Sometimes, a strong point will be waiting for you, with an immediate greeting upon arrival – but that’s a suicidal proposition for them almost always. If that doesn’t happen – you should expect some nasty surprises when you start entering houses.
Sometimes, absolutely nothing happens – the neighborhood is quite like a church morning in a village and stays that way the entire time you’re there. But that’s not a relief – the next emotion is usually dread.
Clearing homes in an area you know to be trouble is about as terrifying of a job an infantryman can get. Over time, you develop a sixth sense for things – you can sorta tell what’s going to wait for you in the house.
We have certain tools to help with that as well… as well as plenty of advanced surveillance that will spot traffic in and out of a house long before you show up.
Aerial surveillance also helps us know what to expect upon arrival to a new sector (though it’s far from perfect). But, it’s much different for the IDF. I imagine that a tunnel exiting directly into a house will render any surveillance-based assumptions useless.
Sometimes, that sixth sense… the gut feeling tells you that this house will be bad. But the gut is often wrong, of course. And when your gut is wrong but it’s still talking to you – one of the scariest things in the world is that one last door left to be checked in the bedroom. Remember the fear of closet monsters when you were a kid? Yeah… now picture the tricks your imagination can play when closet monsters in that neighborhood come with explosives.

Why Tunnels are Important

• Tunnels add a fourth-dimension to an already nerve-wrecking environment.
• First, you lose your “eyes” on the sector in advance – effectively, you’re arriving blind, because surveillance can’t pick up enemy traffic moving into defensive positions when they arrive underground
• The dimension itself is simply unintuitive. An infantryman is used to scanning for enemy horizontally and vertically. They’re used to watching their step. They’re used to treating a random pile of garbage as potentially explosive. What they’re not used to is that pile of garbage being a potential tunnel exit that an RPG team pops up from behind you. We’re used to avoiding random piles of garbage and moving on – letting EOD deal with sh*t later. But IDF has to check every pile of garbage, lift every random piece of plywood, look under every bathtub in every house. Lift every rug. Stomp on every part of the floor. Basically – it’s f---king hell.
• When you discover a tunnel – it’s a whole different pain in the rear. Infantry isn’t trained in dealing with tunnels. They basically have to mark them and remain stationary until the tunnel “specialists” arrive. The idea of sector-by-sector clearing is that, once you clear it, you can declare it safe and move on. But when there is an active tunnel with an exist point behind you – there is nothing safe about that sector even if it’s quiet at the moment. And sitting idle in a neighborhood waiting to clear a tunnel certainly isn’t ideal in an urban operation where things are quite…uhm…dynamic.

What do you Do with Civilians?

• Civilians, in the meantime, get moved around. It’s not a pleasant experience – you try to treat them gently, but the resulting effect can still resemble more cattle than human. It’s particularly challenging, since there really isn’t a way for them to exit Gaza.
• What you’re doing is for their own benefit - the goal is to move them out of the harm’s way and (occasionally, depending on location and whether the nearest unit has the time and capacity) – round up the fighting age males for identification.
• In all reality, the action moves block by block. Setting up “checkpoints” in an active kill zone is not just ineffective – it would actively put civilians in harm’s way. Checkpoints do get set – but in areas that are more or less quiet and clear. Hamas would happily target soldiers who are distracted in a crowd of Palestinian civilians.
• And then there’s the usual propaganda – I lost count of how many videos I’ve seen claiming that IDF fired upon civilians, when it’s quite clear that either (a) civilians got caught-up in a Hamas attack on IDF or (b) militants just straight-up shot up a bunch of civilians to prevent them from following an evacuation route.

On the Enemy

I could say many things on Hamas in terms of violent Islamism, their perverse beliefs, the f-ed up “moral” code of such groups. But I’ll set that aside and speak of Hamas (based on experience with similar groups) purely in terms of their effectiveness and competence.

• Ultimately, it’s an army of thugs. Rooted in boastfulness, peer pressure, etc.
• The overall ideology has a strong effect on the group. But its “strength” is based mainly on the group dynamic. Once the group dynamic is destroyed, the leadership is dead, and there is no one to witness or attest to “less-than-honorable” actions of individuals – it turns out that the “ideological” beliefs of many weren’t held all that deeply.
• They will run. They will hide. They will blend in.
• They’re quite good at things that we’d call “terrorism”… or just pure thugishnes.
• There is also the element of most fighters being young men. Young men feel invincible. Add to that a whole lot of peer pressure, the culture of “honor” (their definition of it), and just the general excitement young men fell when causing mischief. What you get is a rather annoying force of guerilla fighters. They certainly aren’t “good”… not even “effective” in terms of the damage such “guerilla” tactics cause. But they’re definitely effective in that they can tie-up a unit in an unnecessary, pointless fights. And they’ll do it with the energy and carelessness of youth – until the circumstances catch up with them. And after that happens – often there isn’t any of them left alive to serve as caution to others.
• There is of course the whole idea of “martyrdom”, etc. It’s certainly a powerful force. But it’s a much more of an obscure concept to these young men – dying isn’t something most of them actively seek… despite all the boastfulness.

Why are There So Many Naked Dudes in their Underwear?

You’ve all seen pics of Palestinian men being paraded around in their underwear. The most hilarious “explanation” that I’ve seen is that it’s a “form of sexual torture” by the IDF.
First of… if that’s what you think – (a) you’re a bit… uhm… weird; and (b) no soldier… I don’t care if it’s the gayest dude who prances around in fairy outfits on weekends– no soldier actually wants to see this sh---t. It’s gross. They’re sweaty, scared, and pathetic. And (y’all seen the pictures) – usually, there isn’t much impressive to look at.
So… why? For the same exact reason prisoners get stripped down upon reporting to prison. And those reasons are much more amplified in a war zone. They are MEN of FIGHTING AGE in an ACTIVE COMBAT ZONE. Any number of them are for sure (100%) Hamas or affiliated with Hamas. That much is a fact. But an IDF soldier in an area that’s still hot with enemy activity has no tools to distinguish whether it’s an innocent civilian or someone who really shouldn’t be released.
Hence, all of them will be sent back for further investigation. They’re identity will be cross-checked with known databases of Hamas memberships. Their social media will probably be checked. Etc. Etc.
Why are they naked? Because when a dude walks up on you in a hostile area – you yell at him to stop, strip down at a distance, and do a 360 presentation of his gut and sweaty *ss crack for you. Yeah – it’s as gross as it sounds. The main fear is obvious - explosives and concealed weapons.
Eventually, they approach, get cuffed, blindfolded, and wait around for transport. And yeah… they stay in their underwear… because no soldier is going to volunteer to go collect gross, sweaty clothes for a bunch of random dudes and then try to figure out to whom each pair of pants belongs to. Sorry… but there are more important things to do when you’re collecting prisoners in an open yard in a neighborhood that was shooting at you 20 minutes ago. If you think there is anything “sexual” about it – you should probably see a psychiatrist.

Defining a “Combatant”

Defining a militant is difficult – some will be proper combatants. Others – just kids joining in the stupid excitement of violence.

• Militants mostly move around in civilian clothes and empty-handed. By now, they know we can see them.
• Weapons are usually stored in known caches with plenty of ammo. IDF is finding them in houses on practically every street, from what I hear.
• That was the same MO in Afghanistan - farmers routinely would come down and claim that we killed “innocent kids” overnight. Nevermind our thermal footage of those “kids” and their 7.62 toys.
• Civilians, especially boys, can sometimes join the madness. Are they innocent? Well, fundamentally, of course they are – they’re kids. But things aren’t that simple in a combat zone. Those kids don’t just decide to pick-up rocks on their own. Where they grow up – the coolest guys in the neighborhood are the tough jihadis. The kids flock to them, run errands for them. When things get hot – the kids run surveillance for them, bring supplies. Quite often, the kids will assist in setting up IEDs.
• For instance, In many places we were in – the “specialist” who knows how to wire an IED is a VIP of sorts. And they’re familiar with our surveillance. So, an IED setup is a process – where civilians, often just kids, would be used to test our surveillance of the area. “Here is a shovel, kid… go dig a hole over on the other side of the street while we wait here to see if they infidels’ snipers have eyes on the street”.
• And sometimes, in the middle of a fight, those kids also decide to make an appearance. Of course, you don’t target the kids if you can help it. But say you round a corner... ready for a surprise – and there is something flying toward your face. That person will probably be dead before you even have a chance to recognize that it’s a kid.
• Of course, to a well-adjusted civilian, the idea of shooting a kid “over a rock” sounds insane. And it is. No one wants to shoot a kid over a rock. But when you’re stuck on a street that’s become a bullet funnel from a few blocks down, and someone keeps peeking in from the alley splitting the street and tossing things at you – most soldiers aren’t inclined to sit around to find out whether it’s a rock or a grenade.

How Most Civilian Casualties Happen.

The social media would have you believe that the initial bombing campaign was indiscriminate and that’s how most civilian casualties occurred. In reality, most civilians are killed in what’s called “dynamic” targeting.

• Majority of civilian casualties will come from “dynamic targets”. Those are the buildings that weren’t targeted initially for destruction – the initial goal is to simply clear them. But if the enemy happens to get to the building first and IDF takes fire, eventually (after certain back and forth) the building will be targeted for an airstrike. These are dynamic targets that emerge unplanned, Aman has little to no intel on them, and the air assets can’t see if there are civilians hiding in the basement. After some time, they will drop a bomb on the building and move on (as they should and as any other military would do).
• I remember seeing a good thread on Twitter that showed how a neighborhood comes to being destroyed. It starts with pictures and background on a wealthy, upscale development in Gaza. Then shows the videos of IDF trying to move through the neighborhood and foot-mobile fire teams, trying to clear it building-by-building. Hamas, however, fortified the neighborhood, puts up a fight, and ultimately, IDF runs out of options to clear it safely. Eventually, fire missions are called in and the development ceases to exist. Not because IDF was intent to destroy it – they tried to save it. But ultimately, those IDF kids want to go home too… preferably not in body bags.

.....It's just one example. I wasn’t there personally, but it rings true. Because that’s how these things typically play out in my experience. If you know the twitter thread I’m talking about – please share a link if you can find it.
Ok... that was a lot. I plan on doing more posts. Things I plan to address:

1. Looking at the results so far
   
2. Tips for analyzing what you see on social media
   

I've also got some good questions I'm going to address:

1. A question about "proportionality"
   
2. A question on telling the difference between good-faith attempt to minimize casualties and disproportionate violence and war crimes.
   
3. How do we know if IDF are following the professional moral code?
   
4. Thoughts on the recent arrest warrants issued.
   

If you have any other questions you'd like me to address - send them my way. Peace!

I was thinking about what people is discussing recently and a question popped in my head,
“If we take for correct the hypothesis that the fleshy columns we saw in the recent story trailer are what later became the erdtree we saw in the main game then… why is there still an erdtree in the shadow lands? There was no tree to being with, the crucible was never stated to be a tree-like form”
If i understood correctly, the whole erdtree concept was born with Marika ascension to godhood which also translates to “in the beginning there was no tree at all”, the trailer seems to heavily imply this
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But first, there’s a step to be taken before talking about the erdtree in my opinion, and that step is outer god influence
I think the greater will first made contact with marika around this time (the seduction), it then demanded a blood sacrifice + the rune to be extracted from whom could carry one, a god, the gloam eyed queen itself ( the betrayal) and then it manifested itself
think about it, why would the sky turn golden behind the flesh pillars when the rest of the sky is purplish? it makes no sense, unless it was a portal of some-kind, a portal to the lands between, between humans and outer gods (so many entities and curses in the lands between could be caused by this “proximity” afterall)
I won’t elaborate further on this, but i still think greater will has to come before marika’s ideas of rampage and destruction, i wouldn’t have acted like she did if i didn’t have such massive support
feel free to add up to this
———————————————
Back to erdtree,
So, what if the Erdtree was whole? The trailer specifically says that both gold and shadow were born at the same moment and to me this is a very important piece of detail, let me explain why
The tree could be a symbol of the union between the gloam eyed queen/godskin “society” (those who carried the rune of death, the shadow part of the tree) and the numens (the ones who came from outside, possibly already influenced by an outer god as i said before (the greater will) symbolizing the golden part of the tree)
I find this fascinating because the game to me seems to heavily focus on the concept of duality and twins and i wouldn’t find it too difficult to think that the tree itself shared this “twin-like” aspect itself
Also as many pointed out, we have no sign of the war between the godskins and marika forces in the lands between, so it might’ve happened in the lands of shadow
which makes so much sense if you think about “balance”, the tree holds both life and death, and marika probably feared death because that would mean losing her reign
If we take a closer look to the shadow tree itself it looks like it was ripped in half in the right side, the result of what happened seems to also have caused debris to levitate in the castle directly below it much as like what happened with farum azula
I suspect Marika managed to move the golden part of the erdtree between space, the two lands to be more clear, in a way like how she moved farum azula but through time instead
That’s all i could come up with in relation to why is an erdtree still present in the lands of shadow
Now.. a little bonus quick theory and then you’re all free to go ahahah
Do you remember what happens through goldmask’s quest? We find out Marika’s secret
I find it interesting that the precise wording of the reveal is “Marika is Radagon” and not “Radagon is Marika” this could easily be due to the fact that the statue depicted Marika first but think about it..
Why would you conceal Radagon so much from history?
After Messmer’s reveal i couldn’t help but think Radagon is actually the original being, it makes sense for Messmer’s but it also makes sense if you think about Marika’s fate if she wouldn’t have been a woman, she would serve as a lord for another god while she wanted to be served as the queen, the goddes who carries the elden ring
As a bonus proof, Miquella too needed a feminine form to help ascending to godhood, St. Trina.
———————————————
There’s probably so much more that could be done to connect the pieces, but i can’t help but think about how strong the duality concept is in this game and how important it is
Twins, Two fingers, Empyreans (eligible to be gods) and Shadows, there’s a piece missing
—————————
I hope you had time to read through this mess and maybe have fun or found it interesting, let me know what you think!

I'm having this email conversation with a preacher - I'd love to hear your thoughts & input.

Email Conversation with Preacher May 2024

From Layperson
God's Peace Preacher,
I had a few thoughts pop to mind after you spoke on Sunday and I thought I'd call you. I tried to call but my call could not be completed as dialed, so I'm sending you a quick email.
First - thank you for your sacrifice on the mission you recently returned from and for speaking on Sunday. I know it's not easy and I do not want to make it any harder for you, but I only want to speak to you out of love and concern for both of our souls.
You mentioned that we hear the complete truth here and we don't go outside of the Holy Bible - I totally agree with this philosophy of not going outside of the Bible - I think we're on the same page here! Do you feel sincerely that we don't go outside of the Holy Bible, and everything we teach can be found in scripture?
You also mentioned that if one of us was going astray, wouldn't we want to hear from another? I wholeheartedly agree with this. If I am going astray, I absolutely want you to let me know and teach me in the Bible where scripture is a rebuke to me and could set me back on the right path!
A few more thoughts that came to mind on a few things you mentioned:
The roots of this tree are in Swedish Lapland:
Can you point me in the right direction to find this in the Bible? One of the last times we talked you mentioned Revelation 12. Upon reading it, I didn't see any connection there.
This doctrine is repentance and forgiveness and it's so simple.
Where in the Bible does it talk about the doctrine being so simple and it's all about repentance and forgiveness?
Looking at Acts 16:30 where the question is asked what one must do to be saved, "And they said, Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved, and thy house"
Was that a sermon of repentance and forgiveness? It seems like a sermon of faith in Jesus Christ.
And how about the thief on the cross? Was that a sermon of repentance and forgiveness, or was it a sermon of faith in Jesus Christ as Lord?
We would like to explain this Christianity but it is a matter of the heart and it must be seen, felt and tasted
Is that the same mindset that Jesus and the Apostles had about faith in Christ?
If they had felt that way, I don't think they would have spread the gospel very effectively.
How are we justified before God? Is it by faith in Jesus?
Do we believe John 3:16? For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.
John 14:6: "Jesus saith unto him, I am the way, the truth, and the life: no man cometh unto the Father, but by me."
Acts 4:12: "Neither is there salvation in any other: for there is none other name under heaven given among men, whereby we must be saved."
Romans 3:22: "Even the righteousness of God which is by faith of Jesus Christ unto all and upon all them that believe: for there is no difference."
Galatians 2:16: "Knowing that a man is not justified by the works of the law, but by the faith of Jesus Christ, even we have believed in Jesus Christ, that we might be justified by the faith of Christ, and not by the works of the law: for by the works of the law shall no flesh be justified."
The Christianity is complete and perfect and we don't have any need to search for a better Christianity
After reading "The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want." you mentioned we have a perfect Christianity and we do not need to search for anything else.
Was the emphasis of this verse on the Lord, who is the Triune God, and not on the religion we believe in, which is Christianity?
Do you believe that the Lord is your shepherd, and is the shepherd of each person in the congregation?
Instead of saying "The Christianity we have is complete and perfect." Wouldn't we want to put the emphasis on Christ specifically rather than "the Christianity we have"?
To say "The faith we have in Christ is saving" and "Christ is complete and perfect" is putting the glory and honor where it belongs - with Christ himself. Since salvation can be found in no other name, why not emphasize that our salvation is in Christ, rather than in the OALC doctrine?
Putting the emphasis on "The Christianity we have" really is not the same as putting the emphasis on Christ.
Christ and the "Christianity" that we speak of really are two different things. When we speak of the "Christianity" we also mean all of the other synonyms we've associated with it:

• This Christianity
• This saving faith
• Living Faith
• This precious Doctrine
• The Old Apostolic Lutheran Church
• Our most Precious Faith etc.

Do we teach that believing on Christ is enough? Or must one also believe in the OALC doctrine - ie. "The OALC, and the living faith and doctrine taught in the OALC is the only saving doctrine we are aware of, and no other doctrines taught at other churches are saving. They are heresy, and dead faith, and are based on good works."
We say that our doctrine is based on the Bible, and can all be found in the Bible. Somehow those other churches end up adding to or removing from the teachings of the Bible and go into dead faith, but The OALC has never done that?
I look forward to hearing your thoughts!
With love,
Layperson
From Preacher
God’s Peace Layperson,
Jesus is found in his congregation, in the hearts of the children of God.
Our doctrine is all the teachings of Jesus and his Apostles.
We are sent out to preach repentance and the forgiveness of sins. This is spreading the Gospel also.
The law is preached to awaken one to their sinfulness so to lead them to Christ.
A sermon of repentance can be a law sermon to an unbeliever.
God has hidden the spiritual meaning from the wise and prudent and revealed unto babes.
Lapland is where our mother congregation is. The prophesies contain this.
The thief on the cross confessed his wrongs and confessed Jesus before the world. A short order of grace.
The Christianity we have is living. We have a living knowledge of sin and a living knowledge of grace.
The Christianity is Christ’s own church and his bride which in marriage becomes one, so we can’t separate his church from him.
The Christianity is complete and perfect through the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace.
We must go through the order of grace which clearly says these are experiences of a new birth all the way to persecution. Justification and Sanctification.
So yes, our salvation is Jesus Christ, how do we know this without living faith in the heart?
The forgiveness of sins in Jesus’ name and blood is needed to encourage us to strive to the end.
The Spiritual name of our church is the church of the first born. Hebrews 12
Old Apostolic Lutheran Church is our American name so to recognize it legally, but it is where the Children of God gather.
Faith cometh by hearing. How do we hear without a preacher? Romans 10
From Layperson
Hi Preacher,
In my previous email I mentioned
The roots of this tree are in Swedish Lapland:
Can you point me in the right direction to find this in the Bible? One of the last times we talked you mentioned Revalation 12. Upon reading it, I didn't see any connection there.
To that, you responded
Lapland is where our mother congregation is. The prophesies contain this.
Can you please provide me with the specific chapter and verses that you are referring to? I've had a hard time finding this.
You also mentioned
Jesus is found in his congregation, in the hearts of the children of God.
I'm wondering - is this the only place Jesus is found? Can Jesus be found in my own heart without being in the presence of another child of God?
I've heard it said that Luther says in order to find Christ you must first find his congregation. Have you seen that message in the Bible? If so, can you point me to this message in the Bible?
I've heard it said that this is shown in Luke since Mary, who represents the congregation, is listed first. Luke 2:16 "And they came with haste, and found Mary, and Joseph, and the babe lying in a manger."
However, in the gospel of Matthew, Mary is not listed first. Matthew 2:11 "And when they were come into the house, they saw the young child with Mary his mother, and fell down, and worshipped him"
I feel like if the order was very significant, the gospel of Matthew would have listed Mary first as well.
Are you aware of a spot in the Bible where it gives the message that in order to find Jesus, you must first find his congregation?
Thank you,
From Preacher
Swedish Lapland where LLL opened this last period of visitation has been likened unto a tree. It started like a mustard seed and has grown from there to us and we have become partakers of this same seed.
In Luke 2 it talks of the shepherds in Mathew 2 it talks of the wise men.
If we can't believe Luther or Laestadius and have the same experiences of a new birth Christ isn't living in our heart, he has died. When we are awakened we have seen this then we have been led to his congregation where the power to forgive sins has been left.
From Layperson
Hi Preacher
I'm still wondering about where the specific bible chapter and verse(s) are where I can find the prophecies that say "Lapland is where our mother congregation is" or "The roots of this tree are in Swedish Lapland" or "Swedish Lapland where LLL opened this last period of visitation..."
Can you share those verses with me?
Thanks!
From Preacher
Do you not believe that our mother congregation is in Swedish lapland?
From Layperson
Hi Preacher,
If God's word says it, I will believe it.
You mentioned that the prophecies say it, but you haven't specified where.
Can you help me believe that it is in God's word by showing me where in his word it is written?
If it's not written in God's word, can't we agree that it is a teaching that is outside of the Bible?
From Preacher
Zachariah 6, and Peter's vision of the sheet are a few.
From Layperson
Hi Preacher,
Thanks for sharing those verses.
I'm having a hard time seeing how God's word connects these verses to the mother congregation in Swedish lapland.
Regarding Peter's vision, I assume you're referring to this verse where the vision was repeated three times.
Acts 10:16 - This was done thrice: and the vessel was received up again into heaven.
I've heard that Peter's vision means there will be three periods of visitation, but I haven't seen this elsewhere in the Bible.
It seems like Peter's vision is focused on Peter learning to accept all people, and not just Jews as is shown further on in the chapter where Peter summarizes the meaning of the vision
Acts 10:28 And he said unto them, Ye know how that it is an unlawful thing for a man that is a Jew to keep company, or come unto one of another nation; but God hath shewed me that I should not call any man common or unclean.
Is there another Bible verse that connects this verse or vision to our mother congregation being in Swedish lapland?
Regarding Zechariah 6, it seems like you're referring to the place where it mentions the horses that went north.
Zechariah 6:8 Then cried he upon me, and spake unto me, saying, Behold, these that go toward the north country have quieted my spirit in the north country.
In the Bible, the north often refers to the area of Babylon and Assyria that were enemies of Israel. Sending chariots to the north is said to symbolize God's judgment and control over these powers.
With Swedish lapland being over 2400 miles north and 700 miles west of Babylon, while Babylon is already over 500 miles from Jerusalem where Zechariah was prophesying, I'm wondering if you can point me to any Bible verses that connect this prophecy to the area of Swedish lapland?
Thank you!
From Preacher
These are deep places that have verified our Christianity which the order of Grace can only explain, when we experience it in our own heart. Our Christianity has answered
all these questions in our own heart and the Spirit reveals to us that it is true without doubt. There is no doubt that the highest light is in the mother congregation and in the humility and lowliness in which Christianity travels. Thomas traveled with Christ and still doubted unless he could see and feel the wounds of the resurrected Savior. Blessed are those that don't have to naturally see but believe by faith. I won't believe unless I see, but it is hidden from the intellect. That only comes after we believe.
People will debate the word all their lives and it never does them any good unless it brings them to the breaking of the heart, and there we are in the right condition to receive the blessed encouragement that our sins have been forgiven. This releasing is left in Christ's true church on earth made up of those reborn children that have experienced this in their own heart. There is our simple childlike faith and we need nothing more for our salvation. As we travel we need to be fed the pure Word by the preaching of repentance and the forgiveness of sins. Where have we confidence other than in this blessed faith when the labor is done in unity and love with the abiding Holy Spirit? God's Spirit recognizes the Spirit that is in us. So the Spirit has been tried, that it is of God not man.
From Layperson
Hi Preacher,
Thanks for pointing out that these deep places can be explained by the order of grace. In reading through the beatitudes in Jesus' sermon on the mount in Matthew 5, I'm not seeing a connection between the order of grace and Peter's vision of the sheet or the chariots going north in Zechariah 6.
Can you help me understand how the order of grace in Matthew 5 explains these deep places that have verified our Christianity by showing us
the mother congregation in Swedish lapland is the highest light? Is there any particular verse in the beatitudes that you feel ties these teachings together?
I want to have childlike faith in God's teachings, but not in the teachings of man. If I am to believe this teaching wholeheartedly, I need to first be sure that God has taught it in his word. Bible passages such as 2 Timothy 3:16-17, Deuteronomy 4:2, Revelation 22:18-19,Acts 17:11, Isaiah 8:20, and Proverbs 30:5-6 remind us that God's written word is sufficient, and we must not add to or subtract from his word and believe only teachings that are found in the Holy Bible.
If this teaching is a commandment of men and not of God, I think I would want to be wary of accepting it in a childlike way, because it would draw my heart away from God, as Jesus teaches in Matthew 15:8-9: "This people draweth nigh unto me with their mouth, and honoureth me with their lips; but their heart is far from me. But in vain they do worship me, teaching for doctrines the commandments of men."
Thank you!
From Preacher
When we go through the order of grace and experience this in our own heart all these questions are answered. We see clearly and know our mother. We know where we have received spiritual life. The intellect wants to understand before it can believe and that is why Luther says it needs to have its eyes poked out and neck wrung when it comes to spiritual matters. We read the word of God knowing that there is such depth to it and the Holy Spirit must interpret it for us. When the Disciples received the power of the Spirit they spoke; and people believed, only about 1 in 10 that first day. How are we to think?
From Layperson
Ok, thanks for sharing your thoughts! I agree that when we read the word of God we must read it with a prayer that the Holy Spirit will reveal the meaning to us.
It felt like many of these questions were answered for me until I started to read the Bible, and at that point it felt like some of my lingering questions were being answered, while different questions were coming up!
The spiritual mother has definitely been a big question. It feels like the Bible makes it clear that we have a father in heaven, but does not emphasize a mother congregation on earth.
One verse that stands out is Matthew 23:37, where Jesus laments over Jerusalem:"O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, thou that killest the prophets, and stonest them which are sent unto thee, how often would I have gathered thy children together, even as a hen gathereth her chickens under her wings, and ye would not!"
This verse shows Jesus' desire to gather and protect His people, like a mother hen gathering her chicks. This verse seems to point to Jesus as our spiritual mother more than it does Swedish Lapland. What are your thoughts on this verse?
Also, Galatians 4:26 says, "But Jerusalem which is above is free, which is the mother of us all." Here, Paul identifies the heavenly Jerusalem as our spiritual mother, indicating a heavenly, rather than earthly, origin for our spiritual roots. Let me know what your thoughts are on this!
Another question that has come up since I've started reading is about the intellect. It seems like the Bible encourages the use of the intellect in its right order, and does not promote a one sided view of the intellect as something that has no place in the life of a Christian.
It does appear Luther did condemn reason when he said "Reason is a whore, the greatest enemy that faith has; it never comes to the aid of spiritual things, but—more frequently than not—struggles against the divine Word, treating with contempt all that emanates from God." (Table Talk, recorded by his students).

However, that was not the end of the story in regards to Luther's view on reason. He viewed it positively in many ways as well.

1. Reason as God's GiftLuther recognized that reason is a gift from God and has its place in understanding and managing earthly affairs:"Reason is the greatest gift of God to man; it is the 'alpha and omega' of all."Source: Luther’s Works, Volume 40: Church and Ministry II.
2. Reason in Theological StudyLuther acknowledged that reason has an important role in theological study and the interpretation of Scripture, although it must be subordinate to faith:"But the sure rule is that the more true faith a man has, the more firmly and freely he reasons."Source: Luther's Works, Volume 27: Lectures on Galatians, 1535.
3. Reason and ScienceLuther supported the use of reason and intellect in the pursuit of knowledge, including science:"The natural sciences should be cultivated and studied as the most valuable gifts and instruments of God."Source: Luther’s Works, Volume 44: The Christian in Society I.
4. Educational ReformLuther was a proponent of education and intellectual development, which included a strong emphasis on using reason:"I am much afraid that schools will prove to be the great gates of hell unless they diligently labor in explaining the Holy Scriptures and engraving them in the hearts of the youth. I advise no one to place his child where the Scriptures do not reign paramount. Every institution in which men are not increasingly occupied with the Word of God must become corrupt."Source: Luther's Letters, Volume 2.
5. Philosophical ReasonWhile critical of reason's limitations in spiritual matters, Luther did not entirely reject philosophical reasoning:"Reason is a necessary tool in its own sphere, and it is essential for daily living and governance."Source: Table Talk.

And likewise, the Bible has a positive view of the use of reason in the life of a Christian, and does not condemn it as Luther did.

Here are a few places where the Bible emphasises the importance of Reason, Wisdom and Understanding:
1 Thessalonians 5:21: "Prove all things; hold fast that which is good."Proverbs 2:6: "For the Lord giveth wisdom: out of his mouth cometh knowledge and understanding."Proverbs 3:13: "Happy is the man that findeth wisdom, and the man that getteth understanding."James 1:5: "If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God, that giveth to all men liberally, and upbraideth not; and it shall be given him."These verses emphasize that wisdom and understanding are gifts from God and are to be sought after and valued.

The Bible also contains warnings against Over-Reliance on Human Wisdom:1 Corinthians 1:19-21: "For it is written, I will destroy the wisdom of the wise, and will bring to nothing the understanding of the prudent... Hath not God made foolish the wisdom of this world?"Colossians 2:8: "Beware lest any man spoil you through philosophy and vain deceit, after the tradition of men, after the rudiments of the world, and not after Christ."These passages warn against placing human wisdom above God's wisdom and the potential for intellectual pride to lead one astray. These verses are some of the most critical verses in the Bible against the use of reason and the intellect, yet they do not say that the intellect has no place in the life of a Christian. They make it clear that human wisdom should never be placed above the wisdom of God.
It seems like when we talk about reason and the intellect, we would be in safer territory to quote the Bible than a paraphrasing of Luther's most critical statements he's made about reason. What are your thoughts on that?
Thanks again for taking the time to share your thoughts on these matters with me!
From Preacher
As man is born from a mother and a father so is it with the new man as Christ has given birth to his congregation. The congregation is our
mother. The Lapland congregation is the mother congregation at this last period of time, as Jerusalem was in the Apostolic time. We know who are mother is from where we have received life and Spirit. Jesus gives this birth to the new man through the congregation when the power to forgive sins is in his disciples or the reborn children of God. When the highest light comes through the mother to explain the scriptures as the Holy Ghost reveals and unitedly this understanding comes forth, it is our helmet of salvation that protects us from our own intellect causing confusion. If there is confusion, we look to the united understandings that have been tried through the congregation. Our wisdom is when we understand this and can leave our own thoughts and accept the united thoughts. Self-knowledge is also a gift revealing we are weak and needy as King David felt. Self-righteousness will want to lead us away from this and demand more than a childlike faith. As Lapland has always gathered and never pushed away anyone so as the mother hen with a pure mother’s heart. So many signs of a true mother that has so much love for the children. If we can remain children.
From Layperson
Hi Preacher,
Thank you for your response. Here are a few thoughts in response to the thoughts you shared with me.
I also have some questions about where these ideas are found in Scripture - I'm hoping you can point me to places in the Bible to help me believe these ideas are supported by God.
"As man is born from a mother and a father so is it with the new man as Christ has given birth to his congregation."
The Bible describes believers as being born again through faith in Christ (John 3:3-7), not specifically through a congregation. Instead, believers are often described as being adopted into God’s family (Romans 8:15-17, Ephesians 1:5). Can you show me where the Bible says Christ has given birth to a congregation in this way?
"The congregation is our mother."
Scripture frequently describes the church as the body of Christ (1 Corinthians 12:27) and the bride of Christ (Ephesians 5:25-27), but it doesn't refer to the church as our mother. The Bible does use maternal imagery, such as in Galatians 4:26, which refers to "Jerusalem above" as our mother, symbolizing the heavenly city. However, this is a figurative use and does not specify an earthly congregation as a mother. Can you point me to where the Bible supports this idea?
"The Lapland congregation is the mother congregation at this last period of time, as Jerusalem was in the Apostolic time."
The New Testament focuses on the church as a whole, the body of Christ, which is not limited to any specific locations (1 Corinthians 12:12-27). It does not single out any particular congregation as the “mother congregation” in the last days. Where in the Bible does it mention the Lapland congregation or a future mother congregation?
"We know who our mother is from where we have received life and Spirit."
According to the Bible, spiritual life and the Holy Spirit come from faith in Jesus Christ (John 14:16-17, Romans 8:11). Can you provide a Scripture that identifies a congregation as the source of life and Spirit?
"Jesus gives this birth to the new man through the congregation when the power to forgive sins is in his disciples or the reborn children of God."
The Bible teaches that Jesus gives new birth through faith in Him (1 Peter 1:3, John 1:12-13). While the power to forgive sins was given to the apostles (John 20:23), it doesn't specify that this establishes a new birth through a congregation. Could you clarify where this idea is found in Scripture?
"When the highest light comes through the mother to explain the scriptures as the Holy Ghost reveals and unitedly this understanding comes forth, it is our helmet of salvation that protects us from our own intellect causing confusion."
The Bible teaches that the Holy Spirit is the one who guides believers into all truth (John 16:13), not necessarily through a specific congregation. While it’s true that the church plays a role in teaching and nurturing believers, the idea that the highest light comes exclusively through a particular congregation resembles the Catholic belief that the Pope has the ultimate authority to interpret Scriptures authentically. This concept of centralized spiritual authority is not supported by Scripture for any congregation outside of the foundational role given to the apostles and prophets with Christ Himself as the cornerstone (Ephesians 2:20).
The helmet of salvation mentioned in Ephesians 6:17 is part of the armor of God designed to protect us from spiritual attacks, not from our own intellect. The Bible encourages believers to love God with all their mind (Matthew 22:37), which includes using our intellect to understand and discern His word (Acts 17:11, 2 Timothy 2:15).
The idea that we should rely on a specific congregation for ultimate understanding of Scriptures and protection from confusion is not supported by the Bible. Rather, believers are called to individually and collectively seek understanding through the Holy Spirit, study, and discernment (2 Timothy 3:16-17, 1 John 2:27).
Could you provide a biblical basis for the claim that the highest light must come through the mother congregation and that the united understanding serves as a helmet to protect us from our intellect?
"If there is confusion, we look to the united understandings that have been tried through the congregation."
Unity in the church is important (Ephesians 4:3-6), but the Bible also emphasizes testing teachings (1 Thessalonians 5:21, Acts 17:11). Additionally, James 1:5 assures us that if we lack wisdom, we should ask God, who gives generously to all. Where does the Bible instruct believers to defer to the united understanding of a specific congregation?
"Our wisdom is when we understand this and can leave our own thoughts and accept the united thoughts."
Proverbs 3:5-6 does indeed encourage us to trust in the Lord with all our heart and not lean on our own understanding, which aligns with the idea of seeking God's wisdom over our own. However, the Bible also calls for individual discernment and testing of spirits and teachings to ensure they align with God's truth (1 John 4:1, Acts 17:11). This suggests that while we should be open to insights from the Holy Spirit and godly counsel, we are also responsible for personally verifying these insights against Scripture.
Accepting thoughts from God and the Holy Spirit is crucial (James 1:5, John 16:13), but the Bible warns against blindly following the teachings of men without discernment (Colossians 2:8, Mark 7:7-9). Can you provide a Scripture that suggests we should completely abandon our own thoughts in favor of the united thoughts of a specific congregation?
"Self-knowledge is also a gift revealing we are weak and needy as King David felt. Self-righteousness will want to lead us away from this and demand more than a childlike faith."
Recognizing our weakness is biblical (2 Corinthians 12:9-10), and Jesus praised childlike faith (Matthew 18:3-4). However, a childlike faith should be in Jesus, not in a congregation. Can you show me where the Bible instructs us to have childlike faith in a specific group of elders or a congregation?
"As Lapland has always gathered and never pushed away anyone so as the mother hen with a pure mother’s heart."
While Jesus does express a motherly care in Matthew 23:37, there is no specific mention of Lapland or any congregation as fulfilling this role. Also, all humans, including elders, are sinners (Romans 3:23), and only God is pure. Can you provide a biblical basis for Lapland having a pure mother's heart?
"So many signs of a true mother that has so much love for the children. If we can remain children."
Remaining humble and childlike in faith is biblical (Matthew 18:3-4), but identifying a specific congregation as a "true mother" is not found in Scripture. Additionally, God's love for us is unconditional (Romans 8:38-39), unlike a conditional love that would depend on congregants having childlike trust in the elders.
Lastly, you mentioned earlier:
"Where have we confidence other than in this blessed faith when the labor is done in unity and love with the abiding Holy Spirit?"
While unity and love in the Holy Spirit are important (Ephesians 4:3, Colossians 3:14), our ultimate confidence is in Christ alone (Hebrews 12:2, 1 Corinthians 2:5). Can you point me to a Scripture that suggests our confidence should be in a specific congregation rather than Christ?
I genuinely appreciate you taking the time to email me about these matters and look forward to understanding more about how these ideas align with the Bible.
Thank you,
Currently awaiting response from preacher

I posted this in other LGBTQ+ subreddits, but not this one. Also, since pride month is coming up, it made me think of this again. I'd also like to know about who you think of when it comes to closeted characters.
When I look back at some of the shows and movies I watched as a kid, I realize that some characters weren't straight, or didn't seem straight. A lot of things that I couldn't understand at the time, like innuendos, were easily missed because I wasn't exposed to LGBTQ+ stuff at the time. I didn't even know gay people existed until 2011 when I started high school and further didn't know that some of my friends were closeted before that. They all might not be confirmed though, but are for speculation. So looking back, I can think of some characters from a few shows and movies. If you have any or want to talk about what I responded with, feel free to reply.
Notes: 1) I’m not adding Velma because there is a current lesbian Velma post-2015 and she was confirmed to be queer-coded in previous incarnations. But for the sake of Velma, there are instances where she is with Daphne and checks her out even though she crushes on male characters in the shows. In the 2002 movie, Scooby Doo, Velma and Daphne kiss, but it’s taken out of the movie to keep it PG. 2) For the same reason, I won’t add Korra and Asami as there is a confirmation in The Legend of Korra: Turf Wars. 3) Examples that don’t have some level of a firm confirmation, or that are a longer series, will have more detailed explanations so if you want the TLDR, just bolded titles. 4) Also not adding Marceline and Bonnibel Bubblegum because they've been confirmed
Mulan (1998): Li Shang - biromantic.
Li Shang develops romantic feelings for “Ping” until realizing he’s a woman and gets disappointed. Later on, he develops romantic feelings for Mulan. I didn’t realize it until someone pointed it out later on some time on social media. Like most Disney films, the attraction between them tends to build in the middle of the movie before the climax or during the rising action. In the movie, when they are training, Li Shang pays more attention to “Ping” than he does to the other soldiers. This happens at the same time when the romance normally starts in Disney movies as I mentioned earlier, during the rising action and before the climax. If we’re going to look for the most possible straight explanation for this, he was impressed by the skills “Ping” demonstrated. Eventually, he was disappointed that “Ping” was really a woman named Mulan; and with her being a woman, it wasn’t right for her to be in the army. But in the end, he falls for her anyway and they get married in Mulan II. Some people like to say that his disappointment in knowing the true gender was that he was upset about thinking he was falling for a man, but was really falling for a woman. The normal reaction would probably be shock instead of disappointment.
Victorious (2010 - 2013): Jade and Tori - questioning, heteroflexible, biromantic/bisexual
This will be my longest because it has the most potential examples, probably due to being the longest running of these. With this one, I didn't realize until earlier this month. I think everyone was completely straight except these two. I thought that maybe Jade probably developed some sort of feelings for Tori because of her ability to handle Jade’s behavior and the fact that she’s the first to stand up to her and yet still show Jade kindness. This is the classic enemies-to-lovers trope and it’s seen in some other Nickelodeon shows: Josh and Mindy from Drake & Josh (2004 – 2007), Sam and Freddie from iCarly (2007 – 2012) [however, this one wasn’t great because this relationship was short, toxic, and was only fueled by passion], and Logan and Quinn from Zoey 101 (2005 – 2008) and Zoey 102 (2023). But the likely reason behind this not happening is due to them being girls and this show not having seasons in the later years when gay marriage was legalized. However, on June 25th, 2021, one of Nickelodeon’s YouTube channels called NickRewind posted a video titled “Should Tori Vega Date Jade West Bae or Nay 🖤💔NickRewind”. This shows that Nickelodeon’s staff is aware of the fact that this could’ve and should’ve been a thing, that fans have shipped them, and that the two characters have to at least be bi since this was during Pride Month and it would’ve happened if there were more seasons after 2015.
Beck is the only other person who isn’t Tori who actively challenges Jade and puts her in her place. That may be something that she likes in a person. She seems to like someone who stands up for themselves against her and can match her energy. The only other character Jade crushes on, along with Cat and Tori, is Moose in the episode “Three Girls and a Moose” but he’s the only one of Jade’s romantic interests who doesn’t challenge her because she doesn’t antagonize him. In many instances, Jade mocks Tori using a Southern Belle accent or a 1940s movie star accent. Tori usually defends herself by saying she doesn’t talk like that. This interaction implies that they don't like each other. But, this could provide Jade some sort of enjoyment for a few reasons: 1) mocking someone like what she does with Cat sometimes when she laughs, and/or 2) the fact that she knows Tori will defend herself might be a turn-on for Jade, which would then lead to 3) Jade does this because she secretly views Tori as someone sweet, popular, and attractive. The fact that Tori doesn’t get everyone else to turn on Jade, which very much could’ve happened if she wanted to as she is very likable and has gained the loyalty of the majority of the group, shows Tori cares enough about Jade to want to be her friend. Eventually, they respect each other to the point of helping each other and Jade somewhat admits that Tori is a friend of hers. This shows that Tori’s persistence and general nice nature worked on Jade of all people. This is the classic enemies-to-friends trope. But it felt like there was more between these two that I didn’t realize until now.
(Jade and Tori helping each other [Mainly Jade needing Tori’s help])
Jade goes to Tori for help whether or not Beck is an option as it seems she allows herself to be vulnerable around her despite claiming Tori as her rival that she doesn’t like (although, the rivalry is one-sided). Jade could go to anyone when she’s upset and needs help but usually chooses Tori. Tori is the person Jade goes to especially when it’s about Beck. One would assume that she would go to André because he is the level-headed one of the group and is Beck’s best friend, which could mean he would know Beck more to help her about their relationship issues. Another assumption would be that she could also go to Cat for help seeing as she is her best female friend in the beginning of the show (mainly because she can’t see Cat as a threat) but Cat is a very ditzy person and might not be as helpful. She could even go to her own boyfriend unless it’s about him. If she hates Tori so much and nobody else would be available, she could go to Robbie; but similar to Cat, he might not be much help. Jade and Tori also push each other to do things that benefit them when they don’t think they can. In “Jade Dumps Beck” Jade comes to Tori’s house and uses a broken kite as a metaphor for her problem and that Tori is the one she needs to go to in order to fix it. In “Freak the Freak Out” Jade, along with Cat, need Tori to defeat Hayley and Tara. This was also Jade’s plan and not necessarily Cat’s, but Cat agreed that it was a good one. In “Wok Star,” Jade needs Tori’s help again because of Jade’s play and her dad. She even hugs Tori after she receives help because she felt that she couldn’t deny Tori’s request for a hug. Tori prevents Sheema from brutally hurting Jade any further in “Locked Up!” This also shows that while Jade can insult people, she can’t fight. Ironically, she needs Tori, who is visibly skinnier than her and not aggressive at all, to protect her.
(Jade and Tori interacting well)
Throughout the show, we slowly see them become less hostile to each other. At the end of the “Stage Fighting” episode, they work together to clean up the set. This is probably due to Jade’s inability to accept the fact that she could owe Tori a favor and some level of guilt because Tori took all of the blame while knowing Jade lied. When Tori is trying to figure out what to give Trina in “The Birthweek Song”, Jade suggests some talent. This could be interpreted as Jade acknowledging Tori has talent, but she didn’t say that Tori should give some of her talent; and therefore, this might just be her way of saying Trina is untalented. Jade also doesn’t get as bothered as before about being touched when Tori does it in later episodes like in “Survival of the Hottest/Trapped in an RV” and in that episode, Jade and Tori share the last drop of water from a water bottle. In “Beck’s Big Break,” Jade tries to stop Tori from correcting Melinda Murray. This may be because she doesn’t want Tori to get in trouble even though that seems out of character for Jade. The other possibility is the fear that Beck would get fired because she cares for her boyfriend. They also work together to destroy a car in “The Wood” even though it ends with them damaging Festus’ car. They end up singing “Forever Baby” in both English and Spanish on cue. Also, in one of the segments for The Slap, there’s a request that someone gives to Tori to have someone who she doesn’t like very much peel dry glue that Tori should pour onto one of her hands while playing “Make It Shine” in the background. She picks Jade, who also doesn’t want to be with her; but in the end, they are enjoying themselves.
(Romantic/suggestive moments)
In “The Wood” after Jade tells Tori about her things in her room, she does a weird smirk and growl at her. Although it seems very confusing, it still implies that Jade was interested enough to want to go into her room. Although Jade made a growl like noise to Tori, Tori is confused. One would think that Jade making that comment implies Tori has things like sex toys. But Tori would’ve be embarrassed instead of confused. In “Tori Gets Stuck” when Tori is woozy, Jade offers to take her off Tori’s dress as an attempt to try to take the lead role from Tori in the Steamboat Suzy play. It’s obvious that she wants the lead role; but on top of nearly killing her in this episode, she is also willing to remove her clothes without shame. Then in the next episode, “Prom Wrecker” when Tori licks Jade’s can of Wahoo Punch out of anger for Jade ruining the Prome and Jade still continues to drink out of it either because she doesn’t care or because it’s the closest opportunity Jade will have to “kissing” Tori. They also wear similar dresses, but in different colors which can be seen as an obsession Jade has over Tori. Jade’s side of the story in “Who did it to Trina?” involves Tori asking “Why can’t I be pretty like you?” and Jade further goes along with the idea of Tori thinking she’s pretty by responding to Tori’s comment about Jade being demented with “Oh, so you think I’m pretty and demented?” which is something she probably longs for Tori to tell her (the pretty part). Jade also insults her in a way that also makes Tori seem perfect like she usually does. Tori points at Jade when she says “Baby, til you believe” during the “365 Days” performance in “Jade Gets Crushed. Jade knows that Tori isn’t pointing at Beck because she traces the finger to her left and looks that way and sees Lane dancing and probably assumes it was for him or that she was randomly pointing. Jade doesn’t assume Tori would point at her because Jade probably can’t fathom Tori being into her after their interactions. Then the next line is “It’s not just a phase.” Many people can associate this phrase with people who are openly LGBTQ+ and Tori pointed at Jade, so that could be another hint. This could’ve been some way for Tori to try to express feelings towards Jade without being so obvious. In “A Christmas Tori” there are a few instances of Jade’s potential crush on Tori. When Cat gives Jade a pair of scissors from “The Scissoring” Tori asks if it’s the movie about the girl who comes back from the dead and uses a pair of scissors on her two best friends. Beck replies with “Yep.” Jade, while staring at Tori, responds with “Starting with the pretty girl.” This implies that she thinks that Tori is pretty. Before revealing that she is Tori’s secret Santa, Jade allows Tori to pat her down to check if she has her new scissors on her. Keep in mind that Jade has stated that she hates being touched. While doing a pat down, Tori glances at Jade’s breasts twice (it’s possible this could’ve been Victoria Justice’s own intention in the moment, but still). As for Jade’s present to Tori, an idea for André’s project, there are moments in the choreographed performance where Tori touches Jade twice, on her nose and then on her back directly above her butt. Also, the “Jack Frost nipping at your nose” lyrics are accompanied with Tori touching Jade’s nose and then Jade growls. Keep in mind that this is Jade’s present to Tori. Therefore, the touching and every other choreographed part had to have been Jade’s idea, the same girl who supposedly hates being touched. It’s also worth mentioning that earlier in the episode Jade is upset that she has to be Tori’s secret Santa and begs for Sikowitz to assign her anyone else. Either she hates Tori and can’t stand the idea of giving her a gift, or she is secretly in love Tori and is afraid to give Tori a meaningful gift and potentially reveal her feelings towards Tori. So for her gift, this could be her attempt in this assignment to not only give Tori a present, but to exchange physical contact. She could’ve realized that she could avoid giving Tori something that reveals her feelings by instead turning it into an opportunity for Tori to help André. Beck has mentioned in “Jade Dumps Beck” that the only thing Jade has given him for one of his birthdays was a can of lemonade. This brings another question: If she had anyone else, what would she give? Is she a bad gift giver? Beck is her boyfriend and she couldn’t even find an appropriate gift for him on his birthday. With André’s dilemma, she could’ve helped him with his project. She basically did considering her gift to Tori was an idea for his presentation. Considering Beck’s dilemma, she could’ve found a way to catch and/or kill the cricket. That leaves 2 other people, Robbie and Cat. She probably could’ve helped Robbie or Cat by getting them to finally confess their feelings and become a couple. This episode would’ve probably made her learn how to give a meaningful gift either way. But the question remains, why was she so against the idea of being her secret Santa? What would she do if André didn’t need help and Tori found a way to give him a meaningful gift? Is it her hate for Tori that makes her not want to give her a gift? Does she have romantic feelings for Tori and therefore her giving her a gift will flood her mind with thoughts of Tori and frustrate Jade more? “Tori and Jade’s Playdate” shows that Jade finally receives the wish of being called pretty by Tori. After complaining about each other, Tori suggests that they have a conversation and compliment each other. Jade says to Tori that her singing isn’t awful. Tori then says she admires that Jade isn’t afraid to say what she thinks. Jade then awkwardly says that Tori is pretty at certain angles. Tori genuinely smiles after hearing that. But when Jade wants Tori to tell her that she is pretty, Tori does so and they become silent. Their reactions upon being called pretty from each other made it seem like Jade always wanted to hear Tori call her pretty and Tori always wanted to hear Jade call her pretty. Simultaneously, it seemed like they both wanted to call each other pretty. But when it happens, they don't know how to respond. One thing that gets noticed is that Tori wears a necklace that somehow gets worn by Jade after the episode. This implies that Tori gave it to her, or she stole it. But it wouldn’t really add up. That necklace has been with Tori for a while. Why would she suddenly give it to Jade if no feelings were involved? Was she being nice and gifted it to her? Why would Jade specifically choose to wear that necklace later on? How did Jade get it? Could she have stolen it? Or did she feel some way for her? In “Tori Goes Platinum,” while Jade says that she looks like an idiot, Tori replies with “A … pretty pink idiot … with a thing on her head.” This is another moment where Tori calls Jade pretty, but this time without being asked to. In the episode “Brain Squeezers” after attempting to lie to Tori to get on Tori’s team and failing, Jade grabs Tori’s shirt before threatening her and then glances inside it looking at Tori’s bra/breasts as she does so. (Again, can’t tell if this was Elizabeth’s wandering eyes thing or a Jade thing). While it was an April Fools’ episode, in “April Fools Blank” Jade tickles Tori and Tori invites it by lifting up her shirt in a way that looks suggestive.
(Moments where they have to or unintentionally act like a couple)
They have had to act like a couple in “Helen Back Again” for a lesson about subtext with Cat being their daughter. In “Car, Rain & Fire” they unintentionally act like a tired, married couple who take their annoying daughter somewhere. In this case, Cat is the “daughter” again. Tori even reminds Jade about soaking in the fumes of Mona Patterson. Tori is sitting shotgun instead of Cat, the person who wanted to do this, and when Cat starts to cry, Tori tells Jade “Just drive the child to San Diego.” And in the “Tori and Jade’s Playdate” episode, they play a couple. I think the writers poke fun at the idea of them being a couple, but all it does is make fans want more and it comes off as queer baiting.
(Others)
In “Crazy Ponnie” Jade is interested in getting a Tori doll similar to the one in the episode, possibly because it’s Tori or the fact that it said it was evil. In “The Hambone King” Jade is the first to point out that Tori won.
(TheSlap)
On a picture titled "Jade all prettied up" in Tori's Freak the Freak Out Gallery she tagged it as "Jade looks hot in this pic but don't tell her I said so. She doesn't like when I compliment her cuz it takes all the fun out of insulting me." Tori compliments Jade’s new look even though Jade hypothetically wouldn’t want it. Tori admits that Jade dressed pretty for the Prome. On Jade’s birthday, Tori was the only one to respond. When Jade talks about going to an abandoned mall and asking if anyone wants to come, Tori responds with a yes. Most of this just seems like Tori’s one-sided desire for Jade, whether it be physical attraction or friendship.
Kill la Kill (2013 - 2014): Ryuko and Mako - lesbians.
Mako would always have those moments where she would be near Ryuko and do some weird thing that involved touching her a lot in different places. In the last episode, she admits to Ryuko that she wants to date her and even kisses her in one of her weird moments where she says that she wants to go on a date with Ryuko when everything is done. Ryuko, under the influence of Junketsu, kisses Nui. Controlled or not, she still decided to kiss a girl. Ryuko does go on that date with Mako, even though Satsuki accompanies them. Some people argue that Ryuko and Mako aren’t lesbians and try to say that all of this is platonic. It’s probably because they, usually the homophobic ones, don’t like to admit that characters in one of their favorite shows can be gay. Also, Mako is the only one who can calm Ryuko down at times. This is either because she’s Ryuko’s friend, or maybe because Ryuko feels romantic feelings for Mako. Also, maybe the scissors are an innuendo. Yet there isn’t really a confirmation of this by the creators for some reason.

Today is my three hundred and sixty-fifth day holed up. One full calendar year of being here asking myself the same question others have been asking me: why did she finger you if you did nothing to her? As simple as that question is, that's what’s held me down here for 365. I believe it's a riddle life's thrown at me and I'm free to go home the day the answer is found, or the answer is deemed irrelevant, or someone decides to stop playing with me.
Until then, I'm left with jerking up at night, trying to figure the fuck why she said her teacher did. Did she actually say that? I was only told she said “her teacher” but how the devil am I even ever going to answer the question if I can't even be allowed to have her put it directly to me?. She couldn't have said that shit! I demand she says it to my face!
Laws are truly unfairly balanced. They protect some people and open up some others to possible exploitations by those protected by them or their handlers. Laws are often made to protect the weak but most times put those perceived as strong at their mercies, to be twisted and bent as they will. It's just unfair that all it takes for a girl/woman to ruin my life is just to say I had sex with her whether or not I did.
And that brings us back to the early question: if you're innocent, why did she name you of all the 7 billion people in the world? Fuck this question! How come this has been so hard to see? I'm her teacher, remember? And she's only a child of 8 and would think like a child. So of all the 7 billion people in the world, I'm probably her least liked person for making her life difficult with all the homeworks and hard arithmetics (duh!).
She probably thinks I hate her because she sees some of these other classmates scoring higher and getting better grades than her. And what better way to punish your least liked person? Hell, it's common to have children, when crying and asked what's wrong, point/name some innocent persons. Their only crime being that they (the children) know their names or just that they are in sight. This is the best I've come up with in 365 days of suffering and hard thinking in prison. And if it's not good enough, someone, anyone should please help me make sense of this before I lose my shit. 365 days of seeing shit is enough to make one lose his shit. No shit! Lolz.
So I talked about my betting system that ensures a win ⅔ of the time on Day #363, that system was tested and found to work. It paid! It was the final of the Europa Cup between Atalanta and Bayer Leverkusen today. Leverkusen was favored by all to win (guilty as charged!) but Atalanta pulled an amazing one and stole the day.
Technically it was a loss, yet we still made a 6% profit and the overall bet amount. Put another way, we lost yet the overall bet amount was returned with a 6% profit. By “we” I mean some cell members that found my system interesting and put up money for me to bet. Now the system is proven. I'm waiting for the UEFA Champions League final to go at it again. Sadly, I later lost a significant portion of their bet money when I got greedy and played live games with a portion. Now gradually winning it back. No worries. I got this shit down (using shit a lot today, ha!)
Tomorrow is Thursday and we already know what it is – Authority Day, late opening et all.
Goodnight Diary!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5
The conversation with my dad about King Creole was the most heated I’ve ever had. Just mentioning his name to my dad was enough to send him into shock. He demanded to know where I had heard that name. I had to tell him everything about what had happened to me and my friends. About how we had been breaking into places to steal valuables and how it had all gone wrong the moment we entered the voodoo store.
“I can’t believe this,” my dad said as he buried his face into his hands and let out a shaky exhale. I didn’t know what to do as I watched my dad tear up. I rubbed my arm as he began to cry into his hands. I didn’t know if it was because his daughter had been reduced to robbing places to help keep us off the street or that both of us were now under the control of a psychopathic voodoo man.
“I’m sorry Dad…” I said as I left him to digest the knowledge I just dumped on him. I left out the part where I had been stabbed in the neck and nearly killed. I figured he could handle only so much terrible news. His deal with Creole was for a better-paying job and he had just been called for the opportunity to enter the management of one of the only remaining manufacturing plants left in town. Then I had to come and rain on his parade.
But knowing Creole, there had to be some kind of horrible strings attached to this wish granting. Nothing was ever straightforward with him. And as I pulled out the contract I signed with him I quickly began to realize that while this document guaranteed my dad and mom’s lives, it didn’t guarantee mine. Or for that matter, it didn’t guarantee their lives if something happened to me. In my fury and panic over my dad having made a deal with Creole I hadn’t been able to think clearly. Maybe I should’ve hired a lawyer to help me look over this thing.
While I was lamenting my lack of legal representation as if on cue, my phone began to ring. I already knew who it was and I didn’t want to answer it. But then I would have to explain to my dad who the undead bellboy was who had just shown up at our door looking for me. So begrudgingly I reached out and picked up the phone to answer it.
“My marvelous Mace! Could you come on over to the shop? Seems we have an issue that you need to help resolve.” Creole’s cheery southern voice was enough to make me want to punch a hole into my bedroom wall. I didn’t even bother answering him, simply grunting in reply and hanging up on him. If he wasn’t going to even be paying me for all this he was going to get the bare minimum of effort from me.
Bringing my usual items of lockpicking, a new can of pepper spray, and my phone, I applied more ointment to my invisible scar and headed downstairs. My dad was still at the kitchen table, staring forlornly at the table as I wordlessly left the house. I’m sure he could figure out where I was going, so it didn’t matter if I told him or not.
Walking down the street I was again lost in my mind thinking about how screwed I was. I was so focused I didn’t even realize that a limo had pulled up alongside me. And it wasn’t until some unseen force yanked me inside that I did realize that. Before I had a chance to reach into my pocket for my pepper spray, it was yanked away by an unseen slimy force. I couldn’t even let out a scream because that same slimy force quickly covered my mouth and filled my nostrils with a noxious and horrible odor.
“I’d rather not have you pepper spray me again, woman.” The familiar voice told me as my eyes adjusted to the sudden darkness inside the limo. As my eyes adjusted, the sallow face of Constantine Sinclair stared back at me with nothing but disgust in his exhausted eyes. I felt something heavy lean onto my shoulder and looked over to see the skeletal face of his shadow creature staring back at me with its pure white eyes.
“I’ll make this quick, the less time I spend here the better,” he said as he reached into his suit pocket and pulled out a cigar. I half expected him to pull out a gun and whack me like a mob boss or something. Instead, he calmly produced a cigar cutter and snipped the end off of his stogie. “Why were you in my mansion? More importantly, what were you doing with files concerning my mother?” he asked as he placed the cigar in his mouth. His shadow monster slithered away from me and removed its hand from my mouth. It then suddenly produced a match and lit the cigar of its master for him.
“Creole sent me there to gather them. I don’t exactly know why,” I told him, doing my best to not gag from the double whammy of the rotting smell of the shadow and now the cigar smoke. Sinclair huffed and blew out a bluish plume of smoke into the dimly lit limo. I wanted so badly to roll down the window but I figured that he had them child-proofed in the back.
“As I figured. Asshole was trying to get leverage over me,” he said as he took a drag from his cigar. He wasn’t focusing on me, but his shadow kept a close eye on me, its pure white eyes keeping an obsessive watch over me. “And I take it that you work for him now?” Sinclair asked after a moment more of thought.
“Unfortunately,” I answered, he nodded again and looked to his shadow who suddenly got a disappointed look on its face. “What are you going to do to me?” I asked him after a moment. I thought that maybe if he didn’t let me go I could use my tools for lockpicking as some sort of weapon if he tried something. But I doubted that I could fist-fight a weird goopy shadow monster.
“Nothing. For now. But if you ever set foot on my property ever again, I won’t hesitate to feed you to him.” His shadow unhinged its jaw and produced a gaping maw at me that sent a shiver up my spine. I wanted so badly to just be away from him. “And tell your boss, to keep his disgusting undead hands off of my property as well.” He shooed me away and on that cue, the doors to the limo unlocked. I quickly exited the limo and put as much distance as possible between me and him.
“Oh, one more thing,” he said as the window rolled down. I looked back and was suddenly hit in the forehead by the can of pepper spray. I let out a pained grunt and rubbed my forehead as the limo slowly drove away. I bent over and picked up the spray and watched as his limo slowly faded into the distance.
“Fucking asshole,” I mumbled as I shoved the pepper spray back into my pocket and continued on my way to the voodoo shop. A part of me wished that Sinclair’s shadow had eaten me. Because maybe then I wouldn’t have to do whatever it was that Creole was going to send me on. But I had a family to protect so I sucked in as much air as I could and entered the store, the sad rusty bell signaling my arrival.
“Mace! Just the woman I was expecting,” Creole greeted me with giddy excitement. I offered him a little wave as I approached the register. I was surprised to see that Jacob wasn’t there and it made me a little sad not to see him waiting for me there. But I did my best to hide my contempt for Creole, afterall I couldn’t let him get bored of me already.“What have you got for me this time, sir?” I asked with as much enthusiasm as I could muster. Creole was ecstatic with my minimal amount of effort and he quickly sprang up from the chair and sauntered over to me, quickly wrapping an arm over me and pulling me close to him. Clearly, he still had no concept of personal space.
“Well as it turns out, we need to clean up a mess the two of us made! Turns out that version of you that crawled out of that lil ol’ mirror I had you get is causing some amount of issues. So I need you to go and deal with it!” He framed it like it was as simple as going to the gas station and picking up some snacks or something.
“How…am I supposed to kill that thing? And if I kill it…her? Will it kill me?” I asked him. Cause if that was the case I would rather have her roaming around than have the two of us dying.
“Excellent questions, Mace! First, this is how you’ll beat the creature.” He reached into his suit and pulled out a small little golden bell. I stared at him in confusion. How the hell was a bell supposed to save me? He rang the bell and we both waited a moment. Then suddenly Jacob popped up from behind the register, saluting like some kind of superbly dressed soldier.
“Be a good boy and bring the dagger, Jacob my boy,” Creole told the happy bellhop, who quickly nodded and practically skipped over to us and presented a dagger to Creole. It was a simple knife in a ceramic sheath. Nothing fancy about it, and if anything it seemed like some kind of prop that a crappy high school play would use.
“I have to get close to her?” I asked him as I took the knife with apprehension. I unsheathed it and was greeted with…a normal-looking dagger. How was this thing any better than a regular pocket knife? And for that matter how was this going to kill that version of me?
“Well, you got plenty close when you stared at the mirror. I’m sure you can deal with it no problem,” Creole said with a smile letting me go and walking over to Jacob. “If it makes you feel better Jacob will be going with you. If things get too bad I’m sure he’ll be of some help.” Creole chuckled walking back over to the register and sitting back down. “Well, y’all better get going. No telling what that other Mace is up to.” He shooed us away. I sighed as I resheathed the dagger and stuck it into my pocket.
Jacob led me back over to the entrance of the voodoo store and reached into his pocket to pull out another skeleton key. Inserting it into the keyhole and turning the lock we both stared and watched as the door warped into the shape of the hotel’s main entrance. When it was done, Jacob pulled the key back out and opened the door for me, I thanked him and entered the abandoned hotel.
Already within the first couple of steps, I could tell that the hotel had changed. the already pitch-black hotel had gotten even darker. And Creole had neglected to give me any source of light this time around. As I fumbled around I stepped on something wet and squishy. I instantly had a bad feeling and quickly reached into my pocket to pull my phone out. Turning the flashlight on I looked down at where my foot had stepped. I had stepped on what looked like intestines.
“Oh fuck me,” I shivered as I quickly turned my flashlight off. Something told me that the dark would be much better than knowing what else I could be stepping on. I fumbled for a bit more until I walked straight into the front desk and knocked over whatever was on it. Cursing in the dark I was suddenly illuminated by a source of light behind me. Turning I saw Jacob standing there with two actual flashlights in his hands.
“Thanks, Jacob,” I said with a tired smile. I walked over, making sure to ignore the squishy noises that came from every step I took toward him. I took the flashlight from him and he nodded with that permanent smile he always had. Seeing the front desk he happily skipped over to it and took his place behind it. I figured this was where he was going to stay while I went me hunting.
I began making my way towards the door to the stairs, glancing at every corner with my flashlight and shuddering at the stains of blood and meat chunks strewn about everywhere. I figured that this was the ‘issue’ that the mirror me was causing that needed to be dealt with. Creole probably didn’t have much jurisdiction out here in Pennsylvania so an evil monster version of me running around and killing people probably wouldn’t fly very well.
As I approached the stairwell door, I took a deep breath. I knew what smell awaited me on the other side of the door. With sufficient breath to ensure that I made it up a couple of flights of stairs and away from the smell, I opened the door and shone my flashlight into the pile of corpses waiting for me at the bottom. Now having expected them, I had a chance to examine them. And what I was met with confused me to no end. Most of the bodies were long and gangly, just like the version of me that had crawled out of the mirror.
I made a mental note of that and quickly rushed up the stairs to escape the smell. Once I was far enough up the stairs I started breathing again, only getting a slight hint of rot and decay. Every step I took toward the 11th floor echoed throughout the stairwell and I had to take several pauses. I could've sworn that something was following me up the stairs. It was the same as the first time I had been here in the hall, it felt like there was something following me.
It took me several minutes of stopping and starting to make it up the stairs to the 11th floor. In my mind, I figured that mirror me would be hanging around near where the mirror had been. And if not I would just have to go floor by floor. Arriving at last at the 11th floor I entered into the hallway and closed to door behind me, happy to leave those strange echoing footsteps behind me. But now I was just in a familiar hell. I shone my light in every direction that mirror me might be in. Slowly I started making my way through the halls stopping every few seconds for any possible sound that may have been my target.
“This sucks,” I whispered to myself as I pulled out the knife and held it out in front of me. I felt like some protagonist in a shitty horror movie, and I made damn sure to check behind me every moment I got. As I neared the scene of our first chase I saw that the damage that mirror me had done was still there, meaning that I didn’t have to go room by room looking for her. She’d have most likely broken into any room so that was a silver lining. A microscopic one, but it was one.
I shone my light into the room where the mirror had been and waited to see if there would be a reaction. There wasn’t one so I took a deep breath and stuck my head into the room. Satisfied that she wasn’t in there I turned to continue down the hallway. That was until I heard something. Like nails scraping across metal. I flashed my light in several directions in an attempt to figure out where it was coming from but to no avail. But this wasn’t like the steps, they didn’t stop after a while, they continued.
I started walking again and the sound continued to follow me. It sounded like it was right on top of me. And that gave me the idea. I slowly turned my light to the ceiling. And staring back at me were the crazed eyes of my mirror version. I let out a surprised scream at seeing her hanging from the ceiling. She was crawling like some sort of bug on the ceiling with her nails dug into the roof. Her head completely rotated around like a fucking owl to stare at me. And upon making eye contact with her she grinned at me with eyes that screamed murder. Her mouth was coated in dried blood and I could already tell what she wanted to do to me.
I wasted no time after discovering her than booking it towards the nearest room. She let out a haunting laugh which turned into a screech as she began chasing after me. There was going to be no time for me to pick any of the locks so my best bet was heading towards one of the rooms that she had already broken into. And to my luck past the turn in the hallway was one of those rooms. I ran inside and quickly ran into the bathroom, slamming the door closed and locking it. She had been closer than I would’ve liked as she slammed into the door just as I locked it.
“Great, now I’m trapped.” I scolded myself, but in my defense, a life-or-death situation calls for quick thinking. And this was as quick as I could think. I shone my light around every inch of the bathroom to look for something to fight back with. A knife was nice but I needed something to keep her at bay as well. Unless she was allergic to soap or towels there wasn’t much in here that could get her off my back long enough to use this knife. Then I noticed the toilet.
Quickly I grabbed the lid off the back tank and waited for her to break through the door. She was relentless as she continued to bash her head against the door and it began to break and splinter. I backed up and stood on top of the toilet and readied like a baseball player ready to strike her the moment she busted into the bathroom.
Finally, the door split down the middle and she lunged into the bathroom. I swung as hard as I could at her. The lid shattered against her and she went flying into the bathtub, the shower curtain fell on her and quickly entangled her as she flailed around in confusion. I took my chance and quickly climbed on top of her and plunged the dagger into her. But to my shock, the shower curtain had bunched up just enough to dampen my stab so that it barely so much as nicked her.
She quickly let out a scream and kicked me off of her, sending me right into the bathroom mirror and causing it to shatter. Just what I needed, seven more years of bad luck. I let out a grunt and stared at the mirror me as she rose from the bathtub and the curtain fell off of her. She was so much more taller than me and she reached out to grab me by the head.
“You’re mine,” She hissed at me, in a voice that sounded like me if I had been smoking for the entirety of my life. She opened her mouth and leaned in to take a bite out of me. She had been so focused on eating me however that she hadn’t noticed me grabbing a shard of mirror and sticking her in the neck with it. She screamed again and dropped me, yanking the shard of glass out of her neck and attempting to stop the flow of blood. I fell to the ground in a thud and quickly started searching for the knife in all the chaos that was the bathroom floor.
Finally, I found it and instead of taking my chances I quickly put more distance between me and her. She was still busy dealing with her bleeding neck but upon seeing me starting to escape she quickly ignored it and got back on all fours ready to chase me. I quickly looked around for something else to defend myself with and landed on one of those old fat TVs. I rushed towards it and picked it up as best as I could, grunting with how heavy it was I quickly tossed it at her as she came running out of the bathroom.
It hit her with a loud crash and I quickly jumped on her again once she was dazed. This time for sure I plunged the knife into her back and drove it to the hilt. She let out a pained and gurgle-filled scream and before my eyes, she began to wither away. But before she completely did, her head spun around and she bent backward at almost a 90-degree angle and sank her teeth into my skull. At a sideways bite, she yanked out my left eye and chunks of bone and flesh along with it as she shriveled up and died like a spider.
I let out a pained scream and staggered backward before collapsing and screaming more in pain. The pain was so bad that I must have blacked out because before I knew it I had woken up in a different room in the hotel. One that happened to have power and was lit up. Jacob was sitting on the bed and gave me a little wave, I was so thankful to see him that I sat up in bed almost immediately.
“Is she…dead?” I croaked, my mouth felt like I had just eaten a handful of sand. Jacob nodded and quickly reached over to the nightstand next to my bed and offered me a glass of water. I quickly guzzled it down and let out a satisfied sigh. I then reached up towards the glaring lack of vision in my left eye, but before I could touch it Jacob quickly grabbed my hand and shook his head.
“It’s better if you don’t touch it. Quite the nasty bite.” Creole’s voice came from the bathroom as the tall voodoo man emerged from inside with a smile that threatened to rip all his stitches. “Seems that mirror creature got the last bite off on ya.” He chuckled as he shooed Jacob off of the bed.
“Nice to see you too sir…” I huffed as he carefully held my face in his gloved hands and examined the wound that mirror me had given me. He didn’t give off any indication of how bad it was, but considering I couldn’t see what he was doing on my left side it was safe to say that my eye was well and truly fucked.
“Well, we have some options for you, marvelous Ms. Mace,” Creole said as he let go of my face and patted my head. “I can give you a button eye,” He smiled and tapped his own. “Or a glass eye.” He offered, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the two options he had presented me.
“You can’t just fix my regular eye?” I asked him as I quickly took the glass one. I wasn’t about to end up looking like him or Jacob if I could help it. Creole looked over at Jacob and then back at me.
“Well…If I still had the other eye it might be possible. Unfortunately, it seems that it was crushed in the creature’s jaw when it clamped down on you.” He shrugged and took the glass eye from me, rubbing it around in his gloved hands and presenting it to me, with a slight purple glow emanating from it. “But you’ll be able to see just fine with this one. Satisfaction guaranteed,” he said with that usual big stupid smile on his face.
I took the eye from him and looked down at it. I stood up from the bed and went into the bathroom. And I had to stop myself from screaming at the reflection I saw staring back at me. My left eye was gone and parts of my skull were visible. I fell to the floor and began crying uncontrollably from my remaining eye. As I lay there on the bathroom floor I felt arms wrap around me and pull me into a hug. I looked up and was greeted by Jacob’s smiling form looking down at me. I buried my face in his chest and cried my eye out.
After I sufficiently calmed down Creole helped me put my new eye into its home. Vision quickly returned to it and I looked around to make sure it was working correctly. I was still a sniffling mess and Jacob handed me tissues to wipe my nose.
“Well, that should do it! The ointment I gave you for your scar will also work on the area around your eye. Now, I’ll leave you two to finish up here. Can’t leave the shop unattended for too long after all!” He giggled happily as he exited the room and left me alone with Jacob. I looked over at him and then reached for the notepad and pen that were on the nightstand next to my bed. He looked at them and then at me with a quizzical look.
“Can you please help me escape him?” I asked him and handed him the notepad. He took it and looked at it for a minute as if he was trying to remember how to write. Then he scratched it with the pen a few times before presenting it to me.
It was a smiley face. I caught so off guard that I couldn’t help but snort and laugh. Both at my hopeless situation and at his response. Seemed that in the process of creating him, Creole had scooped out his brains. I was on my own. And this was the second time that I had almost been killed working for Creole.
Who knows when the time will come that I’m finally killed off?

Hello people, I have no experience in writing, but feeling some inclination towards it, this is my first piece of writing, so if you can advise and guide me, how to start or should i start, it would be really helpful. It is 700 words
Title: haven’t decided
Wake up, my fellow passengers, we are crossing the impeccable beast of Solar System 1.0, 'the Earth.' Do not miss the opportunity to look at the wonder of creation," said the pilot. Every seat started to make creaky noises as passengers hurriedly started looking out the windows. The crisp bluish ball with tints of yellow, green, and white was sparkling at them. A young female among them pointed out to the gods of the planet, “humans.” Everyone started to whisper; their sentences started with “earth” and ended with “humans.” They all felt mesmerized because for the first time, they were seeing the “rulers” in this universe. They had crossed many solar systems, many planets with utmost beauty, many planets with gigantic life forms, but this time they were looking at a creature who doesn’t revolve with the planet but makes the planet revolve around him. Some of the passengers were in comfort, some were overwhelmed, and some younger members were not ready to leave the window, but all the passengers could see many similarities between them and humans: both could think, both could communicate, both were aware of morals, justice, empathy, and guilt. The moment must have been like archaic Homo sapiens seeing Neanderthals for the first time on our earth.
A father and his adolescent son were looking at the cities, buildings, homes, and schools as if they were trying to live their past through us. The young man started getting confused. He was looking at two different types of humans. He could not comprehend what he saw. He asked his father, “What is this?” in an underconfident voice. The answer was plain and simple: privilege, but the whole fleet was unaware of what privilege is. The father had no answer. Again, everyone started to whisper, with a lot of gibberish. No one could say anything that made sense. Interrupting this, the pilot made another announcement, “The word that you all are looking for is privilege. One group is privileged humans and the other is not. Do not confuse this with biology; they are biologically the same but socially different.”
After 15 minutes of silence, the son again asked his father, “But how is it decided that one can have all the resources just by showing the tag of privilege?” He pointed at a 22-year-old fit man sleeping with his air conditioning on in the summer in the middle of the day in India, and right above his roof, two men were standing barefoot in the scorching sun to do some repair work on his house. His mind was furiously asking questions: what? how? why? The whole fleet had endless questions, and everyone was looking at the pilot. The pilot turned on the autopilot mode, made himself a coffee, and started speaking.
“Humans look like us; we and they have immense similarities, but their society has created races within a single species, mainly two: privileged and unprivileged. The boy is asleep in the mid-afternoon because he is privileged. His family has already given him a situation where he can spend his entire life in absolute comfort and be saved from miseries. The other two men are barefoot up on the roof because they don’t want to die of hunger, which means they can’t think of anything else except survival.”
Some of the passengers were in despair, looking out the window as if they could see the future, but others were still confused. The young female who first pointed at the humans started laughing madly, and everyone started to stare at her. She calmed herself down and said, "Today, I’ve seen God, but surprisingly it is not divine. Divinity has empathy, care, equality, and calmness. But he is still a god; a god can only create his own pyre. Today one is privileged, and one is not. But soon, just like us, humans will also not understand privilege. There will be one and only one unprivileged god. Soon, the boy will be among those two men, but there will be no house to repair."
The pilot sarcastically nodded towards her and said, “this is the boon of earth, that it will nurture humans and it will soon become a curse.”