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3D Scanning. A place to post news, discussions and personal projects.

2012.12.07 20:20 jininjin 3D Scanning. A place to post news, discussions and personal projects.

A place to discuss 3D scanning. Small objects to Large structures

2024.05.15 06:32 shaneka69 Get A Tarot Reading Today! ALL READINGS SENT SAME DAY THEY ARE BOOKED

Tarot Reader since 2017 who has fully mastered in depth readings to bring true insight to the energies and circumstances you are dealing with, with the use of Oracle and Astrology as well. Shaneka's Services And Contact Linktree
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submitted by shaneka69 to mytarotreadings [link] [comments]

2024.05.15 06:23 Kellic Any preferred LLM to analyze your database for trends?

Hi folks. So I was playing around with a copy of my Plex database and wanted to get a visual representation in graph form of movies per year to get an idea of where I could "fill in the blanks" so to speak. I dumped out only a few columns from the metadata_items table in csv, did a google search and found a free (For a few queries.) vizly. I then hit the button to look for other insights and it was rather cool even with the limited dataset I fed it from the DB. All this took 10 minutes, which was rather slick. I was just wondering if anyone has any other preferred LLM's they use for inspection. At north of 8,000 movies I'm curious on what it sees as with that much content I simply don't know everything I have anymore. I'm assuming some LLM are better than others when it comes to associating trends.
https://preview.redd.it/dqqbei0jni0d1.png?width=1280&format=png&auto=webp&s=37e995463757e1f61b24a28f7ce8e196ec37802a

submitted by Kellic to PleX [link] [comments]

2024.05.15 06:11 stem_factually Educational Resources (Free) from a Former Professor, PhD Chemist, Former Homeschool Student, and Homeschool Parent

I have enjoyed participating in this sub and wanted to share the resources I have been working on as a former STEM professor. I have a podcast for parents interested in incorporating STEM into their kids' every day lives, active play episodes geared directly towards younger children, guides for how to choose a college, graduate program, etc. I am adding more resources as I can find the time, and appreciate insight as well as feedback and requests for more topics. Recently I have started working on some free printables to accompany the podcast and I have a link for those as well. Everything is free, nothing is monetized, I am doing this to keep busy and contribute back to my community.
Podcast (Also available on Apple, see the page for links): https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/stemfactually
Printables: https://mrcphd.weebly.com/printables.html
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/stemfactually/

submitted by stem_factually to homeschool [link] [comments]

2024.05.15 06:05 Haru-_-_-_- Update 🥳

So ummm yeah I know I just had a bit of a style change but I wanted to change the faces a bit more and now I realize how amazing eye highlights are but Imma just explain some things and yadayada.
So about the whole eye changes, I’m making a bit of a pattern with them where the younger the character, the lower the highlights are so compare Elizabeth and Michael, but with Elijah (Yes I decided to call C.C that) and William, they have no highlights to represent their sleep patterns and their emotions in general, Elijah usually has sleepless nights and William just has a lack of remorse. If a characters eyes are blank with no highlights and little to no color, it represents that they are either dead or have an unidentified eye color like my Mrs.Afton.
Also about the “My Afton Sibilings Rate Yours” post, sorry that I’m not responding to some of yall, it’s just that I don’t have the time to type the responses since they take a few minutes, and I also lost motivation but I might try to make responses on the future.
As for the future of my account, I’m determined to learn a few things such as an art style and maybe if I can understand it well enough, tween and animate/edit though I’m not sure yet. But yeah that’s about it, also if you guys have any suggestions for me than please feel free to share!

submitted by Haru-_-_-_- to GachaFnaf [link] [comments]

2024.05.15 05:32 shaneka69 Get A Tarot Reading Today! ALL READINGS SENT SAME DAY THEY ARE BOOKED

submitted by shaneka69 to mytarotreadings [link] [comments]

2024.05.15 05:29 theladymcgyver Is my bf an infamous criminal?!?

So the weirdest thing happened yesterday. It's most likely something totally explainable, and no big deal, but it's really bothering me because I'm not able to find a way to explain it myself. And I have been Digging! For a awhile with no luck. I was hoping someone with law enforcement experience could fill in the blanks for me.

 My boyfriend and I were in a small town about a half hour from where we live. He was driving even though his licence is invalid at the moment because I had a migraine. We went through an intersection, and for whatever reason my tailpipe randomly emits a huge cloud of thick white exhaust, just one big poof that's it. Apparently there was a cop behind the car behind us, because he followed us about a mile to our work where we were picking up supplies. He never turned on the emergency lights, he just pulled in behind us, and in a very friendly manner asked us/informed us about the smoke. We thanked him, he got in the squad and left. Like 5 minutes later, we were loading up and he comes pulling back in, approaches my boyfriend, and states correctly "Mr. So and so, you don't have a licence" and then asks us about 300 questions no joke about just everything. During this he mentions my name, but no one gave it to him. Although incorrectly as he had my married name and I went back to my maiden a few years back. After this, surprisingly, he gives us a knuckle bump and cut us free no ticket. (Thank you!!!!!)

Anyway, how the sam heck, did he know our names like that ... When my vehicle is in my mother's name. He never asked us for ID. I can assume he ran the plates, got my mom's name, but how would her driving record link me let alone the guy i date? We have different addresses, different last names...
I looked up his criminal history there wasn't anything big or bad or anything I wasn't aware of. So it's not really that I'm paranoid he's potentially that recognizable to law enforcement.... He's not that good of an actor. I'm more so just like.... How was he able to figure out who we were like that so quickly following....some kind of paper trail that is really obscure or something idk?
He and I did get pulled over and our names ran at the same time a few years back but it was involving a different matter not involving driving & they ended up letting us go. So maybe we are listed in their records as associates??? Maybe? Still unconnected to my mom in every way tho that I can think of.
I know it wasn't someone at the store we were at, the owner wasnt really aware what was going on at the time. They wanted to call and raise heck with them for harassing us and I was like no no. He was just doing his job. Maybe a little too good but hey that's whatever. A matter of perspective. He let us go and even better was respectful and reasonable. Can't ask for more than that but especially when technically the legalities have you breaking someone's statute.
His demeanor didn't change from friendly curious at all from the first encounter to the second except maybe just going from informative to more inquisitional.
Anyone have any ideas? What else could he have been accessing? You don't think he would have gone off and started Facebook "stalking" do you? If so then he would have had my maiden name not my married name. My page doesn't list him as in a relationship or anything cheesy like that.
TL:DR got stopped by a psychic officer maybe? Magically knew who we were somehow.

submitted by theladymcgyver to RBI [link] [comments]

2024.05.15 05:27 Objective-Sir2860 My take at a Fallout TV S2 bingo card

Feel free to use the blank card and create your own bingo card. I wanted to make mine fun, but not easy.

submitted by Objective-Sir2860 to falloutnewvegas [link] [comments]

2024.05.15 05:27 scrubatomy Need career help!

Currently in the process of becoming a surgical technician. doing clinicals and I realized, it’s extremely cool and all but not something i can see myself doing long term… I need something that doesn’t leave me totally exhausted. I am a single & solo parent to a little baby so my plans need that taken into consideration. should I keep up with the health field and go into nursing? or does my chart say I should look into something else entirely?
if someone has any other interpretations or questions that do not pertain to career please feel free!! :D

submitted by scrubatomy to astrologyreadings [link] [comments]

2024.05.15 05:22 featherwinglove I did it again, a new Trimps novelization (more faithful to story messages than the other one) Tightniks Run Zero

[OC Intro: The game is modded to increase basic jobs cost, seasonal events are disabled. Much of the crash details are based on NASA/SP-2008-565 Columbia Crew Survival Investigation Report recommendations especially Chapter 3 "Occupant Protection".]
The ship is without power, and Tightniks can't run the radar much without draining the batteries. He has only a few minutes of APU power left, goes over the best clearing he can find, and radars it. It varies by only a few feet from the aerodynamic glideslope there. He spots it out on the cameras and circles to go after that spot. He's only at two hundred feet now. With one hand on the stick, he uses the other to open the pressure equalization valve on the side hatch, then at one hundred feet, gets it undogged. Depending on how much damage he's going to get, it's less likely to be stuck closed and trap him. The dynamic vacuum this pulls in the cockpit rips most of the survival pack data cards from that rack and scatters them across the landscape. Crap, I'm gonna need those! Refocusing on surviving the next few seconds, he turns on the radar for the final approach, takes a last look around, then straight ahead at his forward camera and PFD, he clicks his HANS and shoulder strap locks in; after that, he can barely move, but that now is better than dying in this crash with a broken neck. He's a decent pilot and brings up the flare gently. Bringing up the alpha on this delta-winged ship, he balloons a little, but keeps the nose going up and restores a zero aerodynamic sink rate just above the highest terrain indicated by the radar altimeter. The ship bumps a little in the ground effect, and he can see the radar altitude cycling irregularly up and down about five feet at a time. Rougher than it looked from higher up! The body flap protecting the dead engines hits first, and the nose comes rapidly down. It hits, the screens go blank, and Tightniks is surrounded by airbags, some lifting his feet from the rudder petals and his hand from the control stick. It's blinding, it's disorienting, it's noisy, and, to his relief, it's long! It takes several seconds before the crashing cockpit stops moving. How many times did he flip over? Did he go sideways and roll? Am I rightside up? Are we really stopped on the ground? The airbags deflate, and he can move his arms. He gets his restraints loose and inspects himself. "Uck!" he says out loud (without the 'f'). No broken bones. His pressure suit can take his blood pressure. 116/81, pulse 112, blood oxygen 99 reads off on his left arm, I'll friggin' take it!
The ship is amazingly intact from what he can tell. He can't get any readings. The systems test meter seems to be working, but can't find any voltages anywhere. The ship seems to be completely dead. Behind him, 10 passenger seats are all surrounded by airbags and the back of the cabin ends in some sort of dirt-and-gravel and there's a bit of daylight seeping in around the edges. He was the only one on board, though, so their deployment was mostly academic (they might have stiffened the structure a little during the crash, but that's probably trivial.) Tightniks gets out of his spacesuit. The air on this planet is actually breathable. He gets the hatch open, steps outside and-
"A green shimmer erupts then disappears, and you hit the ground."
The human emerges from the glowing green mist and hits the ground. Groans. Pushes against that ground, trying to get back up. Where am I? What's my name? I remember nothing. Aren't babies born naked? He's got a dark blue button-down shirt on. A uniform? A shoulder patch. Gets up, looks around. I feel really heavy. I'm not that fat, am I? He picks up a small stone from the ground, this also feels heavier than it should. He rises to his feet and holds it out somewhat (he's unable to fully extend his arm) and lets it go. The stone hits the ground near his feet quickly and with remarkable speed. It's the gravity, it's greater than it is on- ...where am I from? This is- ...not my home planet? "Oooh..."
"Ka?" it says.
What is that? It's cute, at least.
It is not tame. He has no hope of catching it on foot. The creature seems to like the berries. Maybe if I gather some of those into one place and set some kind of trap...
33s: First trap.
I got one! The human lumbers up to the trap and gets the catch open. Do you bite? It doesn't matter much to me; I'm so friggin' screwed.
It doesn't. It looks at the human with a sense of wonder, actually. A blink and tilt of the head. Seems almost to be asking, Is it you? My purpose? My savior? Once out of the trap, which is totally wrecked, he has to make a new one from scratch, it follows him around like a imprinted hatchling bird.
Wiry little fella, you are. You're going to need some bulking up to do anything useful. The- ...'trimp', I guess... The trimp seems just barely able to feed itself. The human lets him into the broken ship's intact cabin, and it curls up comfortably in a passenger seat for a nap.
1m03s: Second trap.
"Apparently the Trimps breed if they're not working. Doesn't look pleasant."
What are they doing?
The trimps appear to be androgynous, and these two have paired off in the back of the ship. They're holding something carefully within a few hours, feeding it berries, grass, and- ...corundum.
Corundum?? Whatever that is, it isn't a baby.
1m35s: Third trap.
Only it IS a baby! The third trimp he trapped immediately joined the other two in raising it. They have a strange diet of food the human has found compatible with his own body, but they also eat rocks! They're careful to crush and sort aluminate minerals from silcate ones and only eat aluminate. Actually, they don't eat aluminate, they're only feeding it to the baby.
2m06s: Fourth trap.
All four are raising the same child, who is just starting to toddle. It seems these fellas have alumina or maybe even aluminum bones. The human takes a nap and wakes to find the first child grown up and they're starting to raise a second child, all five of them.
2m46s: Huts.
The human found a working bit of electronics. He calls it a pad, but maybe it's more like a smartphone. It has plans for two residential structures. The first, the smaller one, he can build right away, but the second one needs something called "drywall", and he has to figure out how to make that before he can build it. Huts and houses, apparently.
3m13s: 10 pop, full, first farmer.
The trimp he trained to farm and make paper took an incredible 50 units of food to get bulked up to do the work, and now it's not participating in rearing the child. But less than an hour after the trimp started farming and pulping, the child was out on its own, and the trimps did not start another. The ten seats on the ship were all full. Well, eleven counting the one up front that the human sleeps in. The pilot starts exploring the area.
3m28s: Battle.
Wait, what are you do-
The hostile roars and charges at the human, but one of his trimps jumps in front of him with a stick and they fight. It started right when the human got far enough away from the ship that the hostile non-trimps away from the ship began to regard him as leaving his own territory. After the trimp defeats the first enemy, it continues after other hostiles.
3m53s: Shield I in Z1c5.
The human is easily able to recover the loot in the territory cleared by the fighting trimp. Then he sees something glinting in the- That can't be! What the heck is that? It's a data card that fits his pad. It quite clearly regards trimp combat. He gets it loaded into his pad and studies it. I can do this, it just takes some wood. He returns to the ship to discover that they had already started on a new child before the fighter had even expired in battle. The human concentrates on his research.
4m38s: Mskel in Z1c11 defeated.
The remains of this one seem rather white and shiny. It's titanium! This enemy had titanium bones! He'll store them away. They'll be useful someday, I'm sure.
5m52s: Dagger I in Z1c20.
Where are these data cards coming from? The human wonders as he loads this one into his pad, It's for a weapon it calls a dagger. He blinks. I don't know what a dagger is. I'll take your word for it, data card. Needs metal. He has gathered some, but ore is plentiful. He can just dig and smelt it whenever he wants. For now, I'll continue researching.
6m18s: Arable in Z1c21.
It's an old cave that trimps like to live in. Why weren't they able to live there before? How could these friendly critters be confined to only the exact spot where THAT thing, he looks back where he came from, not remembering that he piloted the wrecked ship to its current resting place, crashed? This is really strange. I'll let them fill up this cave before advancing further. Wait, what about defenses? The hostiles never try to reclaim territory that they've lost, so he stops worrying about that fairly quickly.
8m22s: First hut is 0.3% first ever AP.
The trimps seem fairly easy to please in terms of living quarters. Two move into his first hut and start raising a child. The human has his tent, uniform, and the heater pilfered from his space suit. Not much of a mud fan.
9m59s: Miners in Z1c30.
Oh, what's on this data card? Sl3niw? Oh, I'm holding the pad upside down. Miners. I can teach trimps how to mine ores and smelt met- 200 units of food? Each job is getting more expensive to train a trimp for. He puts his bee nickels to his eyes and spots another data card probably 10 enemies away. "Sc"? Does that means science? I can teach trimps to do science??
13m57s: Scientists in Z1c40.
Due to the expense of training trimps, the human couldn't afford to build them shields until now, he's got Sh1-3 made for the fighter to capture the science training data card. 14m02s: One head went into that turtlimp shell, that of his fighter, but two came out: his fighter still has his head on, and he managed to get the turtlimp's head off. It rushes off after the deadly penguimp in the next cell. The shields are not doing all that much good, actually, but they're better than nothing. The human picks up and loads the science data card and- Holy runny sugar-free fudge crap! 1000 food units, but it'll endow them with the ability to speak. Good. I'm getting bored with no one to talk to.
14m28s: Bloodlust purchased and AutoFight enabled (that delay after getting it is an effect of jacking up the job cost.)
As the human buries this expired little trimp warrior, he comes to the sobering realization that he has more trimp graves in his growing trimp colony than he does live trimps. And yet they seem more hopeful now than before I got to know any of them. They seem to think I'm the solution to all their problems or- Those two look east somberly, then notice that he's watching them and smile back and wave at him. ...one problem that is specific, but very, very huge for them. [The only reason I say 'east' is because that's right on a map, and the game advances right across a row, then up. I might say 'northeast' on occasion for that reason.]
20m47s: Z1c73, Miners taken.
Are you my new mining foreman? The trimp who took to the mining training has dark brown fur that lays flat on its head. It's unusual in not having any bits that stick out from its head, ahoge or whatever. This one is relatively quiet, and while it has assimilated the mining and smelting knowledge, it needs to bulk up to do any mining. Smelting is relatively easy, and getting a strong natural draft going in a furnace is almost trivial with the increased gravity. This trimp builds furnaces like nothing. And likes to nap in holes it digs right on the spot; it's weird that way. [Puchim@s Yukipo, and furnaces are not explicit in Trimps.]
21m58s: Farming in Z1c80.
The resourcing "books" are not data cards but paper scrolls, apparently lost to the trimps. It seems that they were civilized in the recent past and some calamity swept over the planet to reduce them to this. Did I have something to do with it? Amnesia sucks harder than a Dyson- ...what's a Dyson? Whatever, it sucks. This disaster happening just before I crash in the only spot with trimps still alive would be a seriously crazy coincidence! Something is really, really wrong about all this. [The author has not sought or received product placement permission or fee from Dyson Technology Ltd. or any resellers of their stuff, just they literally suck balls and made my favorite vacuum cleaner.]
23m50s: Builder in Z1c90.
They've rescued an, I dunno, gelding trimp? It just started to build a shed around the piled lumber I left to build one. It's really slow compared to me, and just banged its thumb, but it is super cute with that long reddish head fur. That particular trimp is also fascinated with pink ribbons and likes to decorate its head fur with them. Because of its inherent inability to participate in rearing children, it isn't counted in the population. [Puchim@s Io, builder on the basis of Iori seen building in 1x10.]
26m02s: Zone 2, 44 pop, 5.5s RC with Z0/1.
It's some sort of tactical manual - tactical coordination. Coordination! He's starting to sort out some trimpese on the research he has done so far. It needs a lot of metal, so they won't be able to implement it for some time. Hopefully, they're still good one at a time, but these enemies seem to be getting bigger as we go along. Uh oh!
27m33s: Gym in Z2c5.
It's some sort of training dojo or sporting arena. The human examines the ruins, I think I can back-engineer drawings for this, get one built, and see what happens.
29m02s: 1g, 47 pop, 10.8s RC with Z1/2.
The two fighting trimps now with their gym and coordination are dodging and blocking enthusiastically, and making much faster ground against the bad guys then a little while ago when it was just one trimp fighting at a time and unable to avoid the enemy hitting back.
40m46s: Fresh turkimp in Z2c74, 63 pop, 7.9s RC, Sh1-10, Da1-5, Bo1-3, Ma1-3, Hm1-3, 6g.
Oh, wow, the laborers seem really hot after this turkimp. He cooks it up and tries a slice. It's really awesome! I have to work alongside his laboring trimps to share it, but I'm getting used to the gravity now. That scroll we found back in Z2c10 really helped. Trimps' techniques and appliances for handicapped individuals, and I'm really handicapped in this higher gravity. He joins the woodcutters with the turkimp; they're the most numerous resource laborer right now, building more gyms, enough that the block/dodge ability of the fighting trimps is almost caught up to the enemy's ability to cause damage.
43m15s: Zone 3, 63 pop, 7.9s RC with Z1/2.
I'm neglecting my science and trimp scientists are really expensive. Curiously, that grey-haired one can't speak all that well, only says "Tai" and "Shijou", but it can write and draw like nobody's business. It's the only scientist so far. [Puchim@s Takanya: Online references probably still claim that she can utter the first two syllables of any word, but she can actually utter only the first two kana syllables of someone's name, most often the given name of basis human Takane Shijou, who also has that habit. (All the utterances of the puchidoru are based on the speech foibles of their basis humans except maybe Piyopiyo, where I haven't seen anything match up so far.)]
47m32s: Finally, we can make drywall and houses. 59m30s: Z3c77, 94 pop, 7.8s RC.
Oh, those poor things are really struggling up at the front. These trimps are enthusiastic and know no fear, but I still feel like telling them to stop for a while. I don't have the heart to keep them from trying while they're still doing some damage.
1h05m24s: Zone 4, 107 pop, 9.3s RC with Z3/4. 1h15m26s: Zone 5, 120 pop, 8.2s RC with Z3/4.
"What is that?" the human asks. He has three scientists. His first does all the writing, but the other two can actually speak. One of them hops up on a rock spire beside the human to reach his eye level.
At the next ridge line, over the lowest and most passable gap in the terrain, this really mean looking hovering sausage monster.
"I dunno," the scientist trimp shrugs, "But it's making me hungry. Looks like a perfectly cooked frankfurter from here." [John Morell's dubious dirigibles.]
"Oh, yeah," the human nods, "that's a blimp."
"A blimp?" the trimp tilts its head quizzically at the human, "How could you know?"
"I wish I could tell you, little buddy," the human extends his arm braces to descend the pass on the side of the zone boundary in the boss enemy's direction, then grunts, "Let's go kill it."
1h16m11s: Z1c9, 120 pop, 10.3s RC with Z4/5. 1h33m34s: Zone 6, 151 pop, 7.4s RC with Z4/5.
1h33m54s: TP in Z1c3.
"What's this?" the human asks, having picked up the little square document with the curling corners.
"Oh," the hungry scientist looks at it, "It's a garden path, follow me."
"You want to lead me down the garden path?" the human says.
"Yeah," the scientist says.
"Are you kidding?" the human asks.
"No," says the other scientist, "We don't get human humor. Listen, these fighters can't go, let them wear themselves out here, then we'll take the next group through this garden."
"Okay," the human nods, watching two more trimps join the fray as he issues the Z5 coordination orders, "they're doing pretty well after all that block training research we just wrapped up." [That's a common artifact, even in normal games, Z5 Traintacular combines with many gyms, enough population to add several trainers, affording Blockmaster, which is expensive on a run zero, plus a break on Tion Z5, a 40% all-stat increase. I don't think Zach designed it into the game on purpose, it just worked out this way.]
1h34m07s: 151 pop, 10.5s RC with Z5/7. 1h37m44s: Drop from Z6c39, TP for 3.
"Now we have these access map frags we can use to route through the old trimpopoli," the scientist explains, "Atlimpis for food, Morimpa for gems, Everimp for metal, and Impazon for wood."
"What about the garden?" the human asks.
"Well, we got lucky with Tricky Paradise," the scientist says, "but you can randomize the route and maybe get lucky. What's with that look?"
"Somehow, I'm remembering 'frag' as something that blew up with deadly pieces," the human says. [Different video games - ones with better graphics and worse gameplay Ｏ(>▽<)Ｏ]
1h39m59s: Blues back up to the top on series I...
"Tai, Tai!" the first ever trimp scientist stops the human just before he upgrades the mace and dagger to Mk.6 and Mk. 8 respectively. It has a note for him.
"Why do you keep calling me that?" the human asks, "Do you think that's my name?"
"Shijou, Shijou," it nods as though to indicate, I KNOW it is. Then it proffers its note again. The human takes it and reads, "Don't upgrade the first row equipment right now."
"Why not?" the human asks.
"Shijou," it points at the end of the mapped route, where there's a scroll sticking out of the thistles.
2h24m07s: Zone 8, 224 pop, 12.2s RC with Z7/12.
"Your settlement is getting crowded, there's Trimps in the streets, and you're taking heat. You feel a sudden strong desire to create a map, though you're not quite sure how that would help."
2h49m10s: Zone 9, 357 pop, 9.5s RC with Z8/15.
"You can't shake the feeling that you've been here before. Déjà-vu?"
The trimps really seem to like the new high capacity mansions, and the village has rapidly expanded since they started building them.
"There's something familiar about this," the human says.
"Tai," the grey one that writes clings to his arm and shows him a note that says, "Don't give up now."
"We must persist," says the yellow one has found a foothold it can grab onto and grabs the human's shoulder gently, "If you give up to early, we'll never solve this. You'll be stuck here forever."
The human puts his hand over the trimp's paw on his shoulders, then looks at him, "I can die, too."
"No, you can't," the trimp says quietly, "Please don't test that, tall one."
"Death is just another path..." he remembers.
"Gan," the grey one squeaks. [That's the first two kana syllables of "Gandalf"]
"...one that we all must take," the human continues, "The grey rain-curtain of this world rolls back, and all turns to silver glass, and then you see it-"
"A green mist," the yellow trimp interrupts, "flash of fire, we're all gone and our progress forgotten. The wandering stars return to that day, and you again crash that ship- ...a little better every time."
"Wait," the human looks around, "have I been here before?"
"I-" the yellow trimp tries in futility to share what little it knows, "...or... somebody got just a little coolant into the-"
"Into the what?"
"This side up," the grey one's note says.
"Into the that," the yellow one points at the note, "It really helped. You- ...I don't think we've ever had mansions before."
Well, of course they didn't have mansions before. That was one of my ship's data cards. How did it get way out here? Will anything start to make sense?
3h02m13s: Zone 10, 387 pop, 8.7s RC with Z8/15; '28s: 11.1s RC with Z9/19. 3h16m41s: Tough snimp after food book, L10 rand dept from lo-hi-med 118/25/96, 4 Items.
"That's twice our frags led us to gem-rich Moria," the human says.
"Morimpa," the new red trimp scientist corrects, there now being 5 scientists. [There'd be more if there were more turkimp.]
"The question is how do we use all these gems?" the human looks at the village zoning plans again, "I like those mansions and all, but they use hardly any gems compared to, well-" he gestures at the pile of over two dozen thousand gems they've gathered, "-that! And still a lot of wood and lumber."
"I think there's something," the yellow one sighs, "I wish I knew more."
Quite some time later, after they're done looting that route for equipment plans, the trimps are again advancing through Zone 10, and he hears it.
"Tai?" the grey one wonders.
"Where are you going?" the yellow one asks.
"To the farm," the human answers.
"Whatever for?" the red one seems exasperated.
"Shijou?" the grey one sighs, then looks at the fighting front. It's been around long enough to remember, "Shijou!"
"You guys already get so much to eat this doesn't do you much good," the human explains.
3h32m33s: L11 112/35/78 rand sea, dropped from Z11c6 with disband, 4.
"What's wrong?" the red one asks.
The human comforts one of the wounded. Once trimps start into a zone fight, they have to finish before they bleed out. He's really bothered making them desert in front of that second turkimp. "They had a lot left in them," he sighs, rubbing his eyes, "but we can't keep that much dead turkimp at once, we have to leave it alive to use up all of this one."
"Shijou," the grey one presents a note, "We need this map right away, anyway. Don't worry about it, Tightniks."
"Tightniks?" he looks at the grey one, "Is that me? How do you know?"
"Tai," the grey one points at the top of the human's left breast pocket.
"Ah, crud," the yellow one curls its tail around in front of itself as trimps do when they're embarrassed, "Is that really a name tag?"
The human hadn't even noticed it since the green flash blew up his memory as he was stepping out of the ship.
4h04m22s: Block (sub-8h AP is only 0.3%), taking it, 504 pop, 9.8s RC with Z10/24.
It's a pretty thick book about using shields for block instead of hit points. The pad has the stats analysis. Sh3-1 is only giving us 9% of our hit points. Turning to his trimp scientists, he says, "It seems to me to be worth it."
"Let's," the yellow one nods.
"Shijou," it hands him a note, "It scales badly, but that won't matter for a long time. I think there's a way to undo it before it matters."
"Doing it." The human takes out his pad and starts scanning.
4h29m05s: L14 rand moun 137/26/80 is really good for a lo-hi-med. 4h30m52s: Hotels.
"Ah," the yellow one says, "I knew there was something. That must be it."
5h08m09s: L15 lo-hi-hi rand gard 129/28/82 (just got explorers). 5h09m32s: Picked up Wall.
"Dam," the human says.
"Damn?" the red one chuckles.
"No," the human says, "Earthen wall dam; it's a thing that makes artificial lakes by holding rivers back."
"Lakes?" the yellow one asks, "Rivers?"
"Oh yeah," the human says, "This planet doesn't have enough rain for those..."
5h48m21: Leaving Wall from about c70 to fetch Tion Z15.
"You can't resume the map from the same point if you start another," the human reads the grey one's note.
"We can go back to the same point on that route if we hold there and finish Zone 15, right?" Tightniks asks.
"Shijou!" it seems to be saying yes.
"Yes," the yellow one adds, "but we're out of Series III upgrades, and you need a fresh map route to start up Series IV."
"We should be okay," Tightniks says, "but if we have to start it over, I don't see that being a big deal." As they advance through the rest of Zone 15, Tightniks resumes his usual duties at the research desk instead building and running traps like he was before.
The trimps seem hopeful at this decision.
5h49m10s: Fresh turkimp. 5h50m16s: Zone 16, 1071 pop, 13.4s RC with Z15/75, 13m43s turkimp (skel in c1.)
"Z:16 Seriously? Another Blimp so soon?"
"So," Tightniks lowers his bee nickels and looks at the red one, "is it going to be boss fights at the end of every zone from now on?"
"Hmm," the red trimp looks up past the human at some random rock spire or cloud.
"Well?" the human persists.
"Yup," he says.
"Hmph," Tightniks grabs a Sw3-1 of the rack and advances towards the front, "Before then, we have another Mister Titanium."
"What does he like about skeletimps?" the red one asks the grey one as the human marches off.
"Shijou?" the grey one seems just as confused by that.
"He's not going back to the ship, and he's not getting himself killed," the yellow one smiles, "so I'll take it."
5h58m32s...
"Hey guys, go for the mortar!" the human suggests to his 75 fighting trimps in the Wall's boss fight.
"I can tell from your bedtime stories that you're used to the artillery in that other place," the yellow one gripes, "but fighting works differently here, there's no artillery."
And the human instantly collapses laughing, the scientists a little worried he might have injured himself in the planet's severe gravity. But he's okay, at least physically, "Mortar is the stuff between the bricks, fellas. That's is a brickimp, right?"
5h59m18s: Wall, 1076 pop, 13.3s RC, 1% AP for sub-8h finish, first L16 roll good 156/35/84 moun, 10 for the metal.
Beyond the Wall was a more edenic section of the trimpolis ruins, doubling the production of the lumberjacks. The trimps are actually really happy with the mode of all of the laborers moving between the three big jobs, along with the turkimp, except for the foremen specialized at leading the job. It isn't enough to boost their productivity, but the human goes to them with trays of sandwiches.
6h06m52s: 50 map run 0.3% AP...
6h19m13s: Zone 17, 1141 pop, 16.0s RC with Z16/94, no turkimp.
"Z:17 You climb a large cliff and look out over the new Zone. Red dirt, scorched ground, and devastation. Is that a Dragimp flying around out there?!"
"Hmm," the human surveys the new zone with his bee nickels, "Looks like crap. Any ideas?"
"You're the idea man," the yellow one groans.
"Set the map flag," he puts his bee nickels away, "We'll run a depth for practice and to load up on gems for more hotels."
"Righto," the red one gets to work.
6h44m34s: First DCP. (Draglimp Care Package; I refuse to call it a tribute.)
"Oh," the human says, "It's tame now, so it brings back gems in exchange for food?" He looks at his gaping scientists, "That's what it looks like, huh? Guys? Yo!"
"Tai..." the grey one sighs.
Draglimp, the dragimp imprinted on Tightniks, lands beside the human, drops some gems at his feet, and accepts some scratching behind its horns before diving into the food bowl.
"You tamed a dragimp???" Grey's note says.
"Well," the yellow one huffs, "I guess that happened."
8h18m53s: L20 depth of 154/27/79.
"Mapping up here?" the red one half closes one eye and tilts his head.
"Yeah," the human says while fitting together the depth map fragments, "With the coordination book not right at the end, we have an extra mark of coordination to take advantage of. Let's take our housing up to 2000 or so, shall we?"
"Okay," the yellow one says from a pile of logs, "What's all the wood for?" They had been collecting it for days now.
"The series upgrades follow a rather specific pattern," Tightniks explains, "Just on the other side of this blimp is Zone 21, where we should be able to find the Shield series V, right?"
"Shijou!" the grey one nods.
8h56m17s: 1% AP for 100 map runs, leaving it, 1751 pop, 24.8s RC with Z20/232. 8h56m54s: Zone 21...
"Ooooookay," Tightniks growls, "There is something off about this thing."
"Shijou?" the grey one looks at the yellow one with concern about their human starship pilot friend.
The human stoops, picks up the little green gem on the ridge between Zone 20 and 21, looks at it, huffs, and asks, "Any idea where this comes from?"
"Err..." the red one seems hesitant to say, "I think you made it."
"Really?" the human huffs, "How could that be?" Then he tosses it at Red, "See if anything reacts to it. It might be radioactive, so we should take turns to minimize exposure."
"Really?" Red's holding it now, "What makes you say that?"
"Because I'm pissed off for no reason I can figure out," the human says, "I think it's coming from that."
"Frags," the red one says quickly, "I think it's arranging a route. You're good with maps," it tosses the gem to the grey scientist.
"Shijou," the grey one says hopefully, and has a map drawn within a few minutes. [Whether it looks like the one in Puchim@s 1x61 is anyone's guess. That one annoyed me as well as Chihya.]
9h02m37s: L21 moun first roll was a decent 160/26/84. 9h21m00s: Starting run 5 of that map...
Tightniks had taken his anger out on some food and wood to build about 8000 traps. Now he's leaning against a rock spire in his increasingly tattered uniform. A nap begins, perhaps unintentionally.
Wild trimps are examining the pile, finding it unwelcoming, and also finding no place in the town, just mill about. It looks like they want to help.
"Ku?" it's a blue trimp, probably a farmer waiting for stuff to grow, climbs up on the rock spire the human is leaning against, starts patting him on the head, "Ku. Ku ku." [Puchim@s Chihya.]
9h23m09s: Still working that lap...
Tightniks wakes up from that nap, and the grey one is standing there. "Shijou," it says with a note of concern, although not much of one. The note it holds says, "It wasn't me."
"Oh, what wasn't you, buddy?" He stretches out a bit, feeling somewhat refreshed. It feels like somebody washed his face and hair while he was sleeping.
The grey one is also holding a small mirror, apparently broken off from a larger mirror and with the sharp edges filed down to make the edges safe.
The human takes it from the grey trimp and holds it in front of his face to discover that somebody has bound up all his hair into about twenty little pigtails. He touches them with his other hand to confirm. "Eh, whatever." He hands the mirror back and goes back to sleep. [Puchim@s Koamimami.]
9h30m08s: The following run...
"He's not throwing stuff every which way yet," the yellow one whispers to the red one, watching the human snoozing with his pad on his knee.
"You remember that, too?" the red one asks.
"'Remember'?" the yellow one turns to face the red one, "I s'pose that's better than imagining it."
"I remember it, too," the grey one says via a playing card sized note.
"If we're stuck in a time loop," the yellow one sighs, "maybe this cycle will be different."
"Tai..." the grey one admires him for a moment. Then thumbs in the direction of the mountain, "Heh, Shijou!" it laughs.
9h35m58s: Run 8, c9 of that map.
The scientists nap and take notes, and meditate and take notes, and draw stuff. The grey one often storyboards for the other nine because it's the best at drawing stuff. They have come up with a list, and most probably "order" (they're debating whether their ranking means "order" (sequence of things happening over the various loops) or "frequency" (what proportion of previous loops they have happened in). But they've come up with this, from first (or perhaps most often) to most recent (or perhaps least often):
- The ship crashes (they're pretty sure that happens every loop) - The human builds huts - The human teaches some of his trimps to speak and do science - The human builds houses - The human makes maps - The human builds mansions - The human blows up and gets himself killed somewhere around Z17 to Z21, often on a dragimp - The human only recently/occasionally builds hotels - The human only recently/rarely tamed a dragimp - The human only recently/rarely maps the Dimension of Anger
They're all agreed that that they have never finished the Dimension of Anger. What they are not all agreed on is that they've never done this conference to figure out whether they're in a time loop or what that might mean. [See also Star Trek: The Next Generation episode "Cause and Effect" ...which was sort of a time loop but they weren't going back in time. It's very interesting, but its meta makes no sense - no one ever went looking for the Bozeman in 80 years? No one who went looking for the Bozeman also got stuck? No one noticed the passage of time outside the little area of space where the not-quite-a-time-loop was happening? Errr... sci-fi writers, don't be half-assed about your time loops, lmao! Be like Harold Ramis- ...what am I saying?? (That would be Groundhog Day, which grafted a time loop into a romcom; there are no other sci-fi elements. But it was a full-blown time loop and not half-assed like "Cause and Effect".)]
9h54m06s: Dropped from Z21c95...
I think it would be a bad idea to bypass that green area, as much as I'd rather not face it. Both his domesticated trimps, which are breeding up a new group of fighters, and the wild trimps he has decided just now not to open the traps for, stare at him and point in that direction. He shoulders a huge Shield V-3 and grabs an Mace IV-2 as well and announces, "We're doing it." Thus equipped, he marches off into the Dimension of Anger.
10h27m53s: Taking Pi4-2; recently had taken Pa4-2...
The group at the front had expired, and the snimp in DoAc95 glares at the advancing colony of trimps, which had halted only because of it. It refuses to counterattack the vulnerable colony and its human, instead snorting and huffing, waiting for the next bunch of 232 fighting trimps to come in range.
Tightniks runs along the line of traps, releasing the recently tamed trimps, singing a song that he doesn't remember the meaning of, that he doesn't remember was crafted by an ethnically Chinese guy out of an African language, and later mastered by two caucasians over the internet before they ever met in person. "Baba yetu yetu uliye, mbinguni yetu yetu amina..." because it just happened to be stuck in his head. [Because the Doylian author decided on a whim to. Christopher Tin got it into Civilization IV and at the time (2010 July), I made the best video for it on YouTube, which got subsequently blown to shreds when Peter Hollens and Malukah re-recorded the song from scratch in their own voices and instruments in 2014, pity with no English translation, the purpose of my video.]
Noticing the last batch of metal he needs coming out of the furnace, he waves the waiting grey scientist to fire up the forge [to use the term properly and not as the game does], for it was time to wrap up the forging dies for the Spetum IV, Mark 2 pike heads.
"Shijou!" the grey one cheers, setting aside a snack that looks like maybe ramen, and starts jumping up and down on the bellows handle.
It takes a while for the human to chip out the tip in the two halves of the forging die, and then polish it, and then heat it up in the forge, and then quench it, inspect it, and put it into service crafting thousands of new pike heads for the fighting trimps.
But only one second passed on the map frame clock (10h27m54s) four cells behind that snimp, in the case being brooded over by this huge, and if it's honest, rather concerned megablimp.
10h35m45: Portal PB, 45 He, 4.247 He/hr, 1891 pop, 22.7s RC with Z20/232, no turkimp.
The last head of the map's boss monster goes limp as one of the fighting trimps' mace heads bounces of it, and the huge thing settles on its tail, resting on the package that seems to be the prize of this map. And there's a popping sound, and then something mechanical.
Is that a scroll compressor? Tightniks looks at the package. The deflating monster's lifting envelope material drapes over everything underneath it. "Red, Shijou!" he snaps and points, "roll up that side of it. Keep this part from sucking down on the extractor nozzle!"
All ten of the scientists jump in, literally, pushing the gas in the bag towards the compressor. Tightniks as well, rolling up the front.
Until he kicks, and nearly trips over, a smaller package that might be the explanation for the reason why the center of the monster's defense seemed to be a little away from the big package he could see. It's in the right place, he realizes. He gets it uncovered and reads stenciled-and-sprayed block letters on it:
"DT TIME PORTAL / THIS SIDE DOWN"
Perhaps the Dimension of Anger is so named because of the rage suddenly rising up in Tightniks' throat. It isn't so much as the free-floating aggression suddenly has an answer, there is definitely a fresh batch of rage and anger as he grips the nearest Mace IV, Mark 3 with both hands and gets it over his shoulder, its target obviously this object, anger at the realization he screams at the top of his lungs, "We are stuck in a mutha FAH-king time loop!!" His swing begins. [Tightniks almost never cusses, unlike Snugniks.]

submitted by featherwinglove to Trimps [link] [comments]

2024.05.15 05:20 SatisfactionLeather7 Valarr Velaryon, Raya Stark - Lord and Lady of Driftmark.

PC

Reddit Account: Satisfactionleather7
Discord Tag: CertifiedEveSimp
Name and House: Valarr velaryon
Age: 48
Cultural Group: Valyrian
Appearance: A tall man, but not a large man, standing at six feet, with thick arms and a firm stance, one would expect him to be the visaghe of strength, but more often than not, his bright clothes and feathered hat are simply covering for his drunken state and constant wide smile, though his rugged handsomeness helps.
Trait: Strong
Skill(s): Swords, Essosi Blademaster (e), Dual Wielding, daggers
Talent(s): Singing, Sailing, gambling
Negative Trait(s):
Starting Title(s): Lord of Driftmark, Lord of the Tides, Master of Ships
Starting Location: Opening Event
Alternate Characters: n/a

AC

Name and House: Raya Stark
Age: 45
Cultural Group: First Man
Appearance: Marked by slight lines of age, the lady Stark has tanned at sea, her freckles now less pronounced, but her beauty holding strong just as her sense of fashion and love for hats has done the same. Dressed usually in darker tones than her husband, she is still a woman who looks fresh from sea no matter the occasion.
Trait: Mariner
Skill(s): Admiral (e), scrutinous
Talent(s): Sailing, Singing, Caligraphy
Negative Trait(s):
Starting Title(s): Lady of Driftmark
Starting Location: Opening Event
Alternate Characters: n/a
---

Timeline

23 BCE - Valarr Velaryon is born on Driftmark to a cousin of the existing lords of driftmark under Daemon Velaryon. He is never expected to find any power of his own.
20 BCE - Raya Stark is born, a cousin to Torrhen Stark, the king in the North and soon to be the Kneeler. It was said that the first thing she did when she was given the ability to crawl, was to attempt to climb into a bath on her own.
15 BCE - Valarr, at age eight, is brought on his first voyage by his father. The young Valarr is taken on a trading trip to Braavos with his father and the young boy soon becomes enamored with the concept of the sea and the beauty of the world. Beginning his love for travel and sailing.
12 BCE - In White Harbour, where Raya's family had moved, she too takes her first voyage, alongside her father, the tomboyish girl leaves the city and learns ship and sail on a voyage to Duskendale and then Oldtown.
9 BCE - Valarr, now 14, an experienced sailor and well-trained in the sword begins charting his own small trips from Driftmark to trade partners on Westeros. These voyages are only of a few days at best, but largely they are of great success and the man begins building up a regular crew of men and women to serve on his vessels.
7 BCE - Across the sea, Raya Stark begins working with her own small scale shipping adventures, sailing along the coast of the North and down to Gulltown, also in the process she finds herself carrying out anti-piracy actions for her cousin... or rather she is upon the ships that do so and she rambunctiously states she is in fact leading the party. The sailors with her humour her.
5 BCE - Valarr Velaryon begins travelling through Essos. He spends three years moving about through Essos, this first voyage largely spent travelling between Driftmark and the Free cities, fighting in Braavos, Pentos and Tyrosh specifically, but come his latest return home in 3 BCE, he is given word of Aegon's plans for Westeros. Daemon recruits him to fight in the war, and act as a captain in the Velaryon fleet.
2 BCE - Daemon Velaryon sends Valarr north to White harbour to negotiate with the Starks and bring them into the kingdom peacefully, but he is shut out quickly and instead spends time in White Harbour assessing the fleet of the manderlys. There he meets Raya Stark while he competes in a smaller tourney. The two quickly fall in love, and marry. Valarr then returns home to Driftmark with his new wife, and later that year his first son is born.
1 BCE - Valarr deploys to the mainland to fight in the field for Aegon, doing battle under numerous engagements and distinguishing himself well. Meanwhile, his wife Raya takes to her new home well, and leads a small detachment of the Velaryon fleet in battle.
1 AC - Valarr, upon his duty in the war finishing, takes his wife with him back to Essos, and for the next several years he travels the continent proper, his wife and his growing family accompanying him and at times being left back on Driftmark. At times being raised at sea on his travels, at others in Essos.
3 AC - Rhaegal Velaryon, the second son, is born.
4 AC - Valarr, while travelling in Essos, meets a man with a mysterious black Arakh. Over drinks they speak and the man reveals its history to him as some ritual required for a new owner to claim the weapon. Having bested the man in an arena the day before, the man requests a duel to give over the weapon. In the fight, the stranger is wounded, but Valarr no less takes him to receive healing. The man passess on his sword, and Valarr comes into possession of a black sword by the name of
5 AC - Laena Velaryon, his first daughter is born.
6 AC - Viserra Velaryon, the youngest child is born.
7-14 AC - Valarr's adventures in Essos continue and continue to bring him great renown and wealth in the East through adventuring and selling his sword and ship to the highest bidder. However, during this period, he visits Asshai and for fun seeks to have his fortune read. In doing so, a masked figure tells him that he must return to his home, for "the seahorse shall burn seven years after the dragon drowns." At first he does not find any logic to it, and then he hears of the death of Aegon by a Riverlander plot. And for years he contemplates the words, eventually choosing to return home to Driftmark.
15 AC - The kingswood catastrophe wipes out the line of Daemon Velaryon, and when the next Velaryon was needed, Valarr was there on the island and was elevated to be the new lord of the tides from his new keep on Driftmark, High Tide.
16-24 AC - Between the years of 16-24 AC, Valarr's travels east slow down, and he begins to spend more time in King's landing and Driftmark, namely he takes a liking to hosting tourneys on the island regularly, and enjoys the betting and the sport that it brings, competing himself numerous times.
20 AC - Partakes in the Eastern Wooing.
23 AC - Raya Stark negotiates Laena Velaryon marrying Maelor Velaryon's firstborn son. Laena is forced to break off a romance with Dickon bracken, though she knew their romance was doomed already.
--
Family Tree
---
NPCS
Laena Velaryon - master at arms.
Maegor Velaryon - Ship Captain

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2024.05.15 05:10 Sattamatka2021 Time bazar today time bazar open Jodi panel chart time bazar open time bazar free otc #timebazar #timebazartoday #timebazartrick

Time bazar today time bazar open Jodi panel chart time bazar open time bazar free otc

timebazar #timebazartoday #timebazartrick

submitted by Sattamatka2021 to Sattamatkab143 [link] [comments]

2024.05.15 04:45 INTPoissible I completed Fallout: A Post Nuclear Role Playing Game

I had a great time with this 1997 game. The game was easy to learn, it uses an action point system similar to the original XCom or Xenonauts, so I slid in real easy. While the opening cave serves as a check on if your built character is "viable", I did half follow a guide. The timer ticking down was my biggest apprehension going in; it's actually very generous, I wasted a ton of time reading skill books and healing with plenty of time to spare.
The #1 thing about this game is how incredibly atmospheric it is, so eeriey and mysterious. That opening cut-scene was great. I saw plenty of 50s theming with the robots and greaser jackets and such. There's also how sadistically gruesome the combat is. I vividly remember my first combats against super-mutants, with them zapping me in half and setting me on fire. But firing full auto into someone at point blank is incredibly satisfying. Crippling limbs really helped to keep the combat interesting, and the flavor text accompanying attacks was some Matt Mercer style cool.
The skill system for this game is a bit wonky. Some skills were pointless. I pickpocked half the people I met without putting any points into the Stealing skill (because I had high Agility), and it didn't effect my Karma. While Repair and Lockpicking are essential skills. First Aid was great for giving me XP and free healing, while I never received a crippled limb to use Doctor on. The way the game handles weapon progression is that Energy & Heavy Weapons represent your end-game capabilities (if you started with those skills, you'd have none to use).
I love how weapons are handled. You load and unload guns, and put in anti-personnel and armor-piercing bullets to fit the situation. I would pick up enemy guns, yank out the clip, then drop them.
The quests were fun and memorable, with variable solutions, and a lot you can talk through.
One of my favorite memories in this game is investigating The Glow, with the sense of danger, discovery, reactivity to my skills, while managing my radiation levels, and getting end-game equipment at the bottom just by chucking a few pulse grenades .
The first time I fought death claws, I was well prepared with a Plasma Rifle (despite no spare ammo for it), and a tip from some geezer on where to shoot it. That went alright. But, soon after I got my Power Armor, a gang enforcer beat me to death with his bare hands. It turned out, he was hopped up on Psycho and had spiked knuckles. Came as a real shock.
Overall, I had a great time. I would say the end-game areas were some of my most frustrating experiences: Force-fields in the military base, and being locked out of peacefully infiltrating the Cathedral just because I had talked to the Followers of the Apocalypse. Sorting through my inventory and packing loot onto companions to carry was a real chore; I can see why the guide said to forget the loot and gamble to buy anything you want. Sometimes, allies felt like herding cats, but they aren't as bad as people make it out to be (just respect lines of fire, and don't use a chaingun unless you want everything in front of you dead).

submitted by INTPoissible to patientgamers [link] [comments]

2024.05.15 04:44 R1P2MYOUTH i study astrology and H3's chart is a mess, i think more crew members are gonna leave/possible hiatus (a few people asked i make a post on this)

a know a lot of you dont believe in astrology which is totally okay! you can just read for fun or scroll :) this post will be a little confusing, but i'll do my best to explain:
current transits in their chart:
moon square moon: disagreements, tending to be more irritated/frustrated. if you feel anger is justified you could be more direct, domestic shakeup
ascendant square uranus: sudden tension can cause a change in circumstance, close bonds can break, breaking free from restrictions
uranus conjunct midheaven: dramatic career change, change that may have previously been prevented by fear of financial instability or hardships
uranus trine ascendant: greater self-awareness, allows you to be more yourself + distinct yourself from others (tbh i see this as AB finally speaking up about palestine and ethan and hila getting more open with their zionism)
north node conjunct moon: karmic lessons. h3's moon is in their 1st house so there's a focus on self discovery and embracing your identity
pluto square mercury: deep thinking + intense interaction. motivation to look deeper on matters. pluto is squaring mercury in h3's 9th house which rules philosophy, religion, culture, etc.
i've only looked at their chart for the past couple days and again, i know lots of you dont believe in this so take it with a grain of salt! 💓 if u have questions i'll be happy to answer lol

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2024.05.15 04:32 shaneka69 Get A Tarot Reading Today! ALL READINGS SENT SAME DAY THEY ARE BOOKED

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2024.05.15 04:30 Rebirthed_Stardust Journal Thoughts.

There was magic, once.
When everything in the world seemed like something new, when memories yet lived. There was that… chill of excitement. You knew it was that mysterious magic, you could feel it flowing like electricity in the air around you. A warmth; a comfort. It was a rhythm—a melody, where each note resonated through your bones, leaving you wanting more.
There are eight senses, you know. Everyone knows the first five—Touch, Taste, Sight, Sound, and Smell—the innate guiding forces built for the spacial axis, but nobody ever gives the same import to the pair relating to the chronal axis: consciousness and memory. Present and past, respectively [thelastonehasnoname].
Let your fear become focus. Focus, sensation, instinct. Wild; brimming with light. White hot potential condensed to a single point of countless echoing infinities, looping back into you.
The Sliver was a place like none other. A kaleidoscopic tunnel of fractures, like the throat of an immeasurable crystal beast, painted in a range of sparkling purples and pinks by some unseen light source. It called to my soul with a powerful vibration, begging me to explore every inch of its majestic and terrifying unknown… to take it all within myself. I tore through the veil.
Up. I have to go higher, have to push harder, further. There is purpose in the thrill, I feel it in my soul. Write more! I scream. My mind goes blank. [keepgoing] I close my eyes, breathe deep, feel the chill shoot through me.
I look within: A dark sphere begins to crack, spewing forth light. I feel I should cry, yet no tears fall. Instead, I am filled with energy. A cold, ambivalent flame of a thousand mirrored reflections burns inside me. My skin begins to glow bright white from within, but suddenly disperses in an outward pulse. Then again. Again; again. [totherhythym] I lose myself, then return, then fade.
A reminder. A boundary. My eyes flutter open.
The storm of anxiety always seems to cloud my thoughts, yet it is in the eye of the storm where I find my head is the most clear. I dream of a beautiful golden supernova [waitturnaround]. A familiar voice calls to me from long ago: Do not force your mind to calm, let your body become the calm, and the rest of you shall follow by instinct. Ringing. Ringing. Endless ringing.
Suddenly, I am flying. Lifted into the sky by wings of golden light. Wonder and awe consume every shadow of doubt, and I am free for approximately three to five minutes. I understand; I see the path.
Reality sets in. I sit again in deafening silence, and the feeling is gone. Nothing feels the same anymore. I could listen again, but with diminishing returns. The feeling is gone. That place is gone [thatplacewasneverreal].
I see thousands upon thousands of distant flickering candles. They split before me, forming speckled walls of light at my sides, leaving only darkness before me. Calling; calling. I hear the calls of the dark. Whispers and ringing. I see a single radiant sphere of blue.
Suddenly, I am frozen in the fear of stagnancy; sharpened to a point. The me who is writing these words will die. I realize they will never see the light of tomorrow, forever trapped in the limbo of those “yesterday thoughts” which once defined them as me. Yet, I will continue on, the visage of the past left forgotten in the annals of a scattered subconscious. Now is the envy of all of the dead.

submitted by Rebirthed_Stardust to thoughtsquare [link] [comments]

2024.05.15 04:29 EccentricSage81 usb4 type C worse than cheap usb ethernet lan landline1900s phones? (rj11/45/cat8e whatevs)

Ethernet has landline 1900s phones two pairs wires reserved in the spec sheet its 8 or so wires when crimping the ends uses like two with one for ground and one seemingly empty and then has two for phone and some unused, with old 10/100 baseT coax with terminating ends exactly like optical or coax 90s cable TV with optical fiber 99% of the way just your block has coax to the rest which uses the 'same'DOCSIS data over cable standards as fibre optic.. just slightly worse latency and bandwidth is calculated by latency things like wifi lan has like 11 channels or 15 channels of frequency which optical calls wavelengths of light. A 2015 or around there linus tech tips video of him going to a swedish lan party called dreamhack had a bunch of multiple redundant 8Terabit or was it bytes of fibre optic internet they explained with light having 7 colors but having 8terabytes of bandwidth with different wavelengths of light called frequencys or a better term for optics is known as LASER ARRAYS of light at fixed frequencys that often plugs into the PC via ethernet cables or whatever for a gamer lan party or home/residential or small businesses at realistically within budget of anything with enough users to require that bandwidth or 'web hosting or web servers' you dont need to be an undersea cable or international link with 200terabits plus for an internet exchange to your main CBD or the fastest like the netherlands IX...
So the problem im trying to solve is, here in australia we got our undersea cables done wrong they kept breaking and we didnt have a navy or defense force securing our countrys communications to prevent war crimes and keep us connected to the global banking systems or whatever.. and then when our biggest telcos cable or fibre all had dialup speeds for around 2 weeks in the early years 2000s to force us to pay other countrys to connect to their links and be ' end of the line' maybe paywalled or proxied off the internet randsomewared to connect to and borrow bandwidth from other countries satellites and other countries undersea link cables which truly were indestructible to any cruise liner ships anchors whatever being flexible giant steel braided cables big as a CAR when australia finally paid to lay small sections of that stuff to link up to others and not pay randsome to internet butt bandits or have private businesses and multi nationals run their own links and ignore the public our lack of a defense force actually let somalian pirates literally somehow pick up and walk off with our expensive undersea car sized cables filled with a few arms thick of hair thin fibre optics which is cheapest clear resin enamels plastics about $3 not sure if USD per kilometer and resembles modern glass/glazing. How does anybody steal that stuff without people noticing like you cant just load it onto a truck and drive away? or a boat? if only satellites and some sort of defense organization existed to prevent us from being impersonated or whatever.. So now in australia ANYTHING with words like gigabit costs a fortune for a mainboard or switch or ethernet hub.. but the ancient 1900s 10/100 telephone land line wires of ethernet 10/100 clock in at a whopping 13 or so mhz sometimes 27.. and 60 or more mhz for like gigabits and whatever it increases shockingly fast with each mhz clock cycle as its units of work over time in nano seconds or zeptoseconds you see billionths of a second nano second RAM and PC with windows realtime kernel actually uses like ryzen hardware negative latency faster than reality freely syncing with any device in the universe and fixed mhz frequency bus can drive like 50 to 100 or thousands of GPU's and HDDs and monitors or whatever from the one modern multicore PC or whatever.. 90s AMD business server still holds world records for most connected devices though it had stackable CPUs opteron and would have used infinity cache type stuff probably software 3dnow and evolving game worlds tech of 80s and 90s AMD gaming evolved advertising.
So in australia anything gigabits costs hundreds of dollars for a switch router some thousands for lots of ports.. but its the shittiest weakest bandwidth ever with mhz and performance miles short of a raspberry pie or whatever. I had to pay a fortune for a mainboard with 10gigabit LAN port and everytime i got a high speed LAN port its been broken or missing so some pricks can sell ebay routers or switches for thousands here.. not knowing why its so expensive is youre paying fortunes for any real bandwidth because australia has to pay literal somalian pirates for their internet connections or privately owned businesses like telstra for access to their private links and glares at countries like new zealand and hawaii for being super technologically superior.. a cheap USB ethernet adaptor costs under 10 bucks on ebay or whatever and is maybe gigabit and your switches and routers 90% of the time you want the cheapest UNMANAGED switch possible. Yet the mainboard i recently purchased ASUS pro art creator x670E i recall had an issue with some asshats trying to steal pathetic measly 40gigabit USB4 chips from all the boards at the computer store to sell on EBay as other junk, when anything in the universe with an M.2 ULTRA slot does 40gigabits since PCI express 3.0/4.0 as PCI express 3.0 SSD drives famously use a specific I/O controller chip which gives them 38gigabits of the ultra M.2 slots 40gigabits of bandwidth. But for a couple years when AMD had pci express 4.0 and better than M.2 ultra intel was playing catch up on PCI express 3.0 and still had regular m.2 in all their boards until AMD was ready for pci express 5.0 my friend on intel bought the same NVME drives and complained they had corruption errors or issues i later learned his board wasnt fast enough and he was maybe trying to use the samsung magician RAM disk and enable NVME features and functions intel maybe did not yet support.
So.. why is USB 4 so many years late and why is it so dang expensive when terabits of ethernet or anything optical is like the cheapest stuff ever and comes with every internet connection since the 90s at the lowest cheapest mhz and 1900s land line wire telephones ever, remember digital isnt a physical thing and everythings literally analog with a sensor or multimeter whatever mathematically translating it to a graph or algebra equation mapping it into different values digitally +10 -10 whatever using microphones or camera sensor whatever. the gigabits tax and uhh LAN port taxes for dumb gay australians being literally see it via satellite outerspace levels dumb and gay astrogaylian should not apply to the cheapest of raspberry pie free 3d print or laser CNC yourself something computery like risc V for the cheapest of USB flash drives or memory cards etc.
I get intel pretends to have invented court ordered USB to probe their hardware after it was proven to have used other peoples code and chips by the chip makers and them selling computers with keyboard and mouse hardwired in so you bought a whole new computer when a key broke on the keyboard couldnt replace them.. and every other device had USB but theirs didnt free open standard and it kinda being the only way to connect any device in the universe and freely sync with it (mics/phones whatever).
why is 1900s phone tech ethernet so dang expensive to go from 20mhz ranges to 80 or whatever mhz ranges or use something very similar to 90s optical audio SPDIF output or anything remotely like a laser in australia? and who would be dumb and gay enough to be so financially retarded as to think that USB 4 was expensive or special as to steal it? am i... missing something?
also before you complain, but ethernets not the same as USB you cant power over ethernet or use your houses electrical wires as ethernet. You also cant use ethernet for monitors or displays, and its not like you can extend HDMI range limit of a about 10 to 15 meters by swapping its ethernet wires with optical ones for it to maintain its HDMI 0 latency spec or type C USB 0 latency spec. USB lets you connect heaps of devices you cant do that with an internet or ethernet for things like keyboard and mice or monitors or whatever. I understand what you mean power over ethernet or PPOE standards suck theres no way those are a thing. using devices over the internet and not the intranet who does that? thats so dumb. remote administration, theres no such thing youre mistaking malware or rootkits im sure. you cant connect a heap of devices up or entire computers to a ethernet port thats the dumbest gayest thing i've ever heard in my entire life! My gaydar is going off and it looks like the wifi symbol.
when trying to use anything ethernet with lame awful bandwidth thats limited, on my AMD board where the website images show AMD ethernet lists as marvel yukon controller i cannot use as its maybe broken there no light on the back, in devices managers advanced tab you can see the send receive or transmit buffer sizes and countless other ethernet settings are MISSING or a blank space. and are limited to 128 on send and 256 on receive up to 4096 or whatever max. But low latency 128 or 256 is maybe best but not all are an option and most networking features on the intel LAN adapters are missing countless advanced ethernet properties and settings because they're fake and lousy and the worst latency ever and they literally seem to swap your windows kernel out with something not realtime so you cannot ever hope to record or playback audio or video or anything close to a video game in hopes of slowly selling it back to you. Linux distros did this too its the dumbest thing ever that to hear or record or playback or play games you must patch in a realtime kernel for free to game like its the 80s and 90s or DOS or whatever. most 90s PCs were CAS 1 or lower nanoseconds. DDR 3 1600mhz depending the maker might be CAS1-4 latency. How can we verify our kernels are correct? and our ethernet and I/O bandwidth is correct? the youtube video about linus tech tips dream hack lan party of gamers in sweden was edited and reuploaded by illiterate asshat buttpirates maybe from somalia or the ones randsoming us some of their internet connections as a proxy piggy back on the international links as we dont have a defense force or army or whatever and dont know what war crimes are or why they are or what the heck a bank is and sure as shit dont know the cost of anything cheap USB or LAN. The dreamhack linus video falsely shows as 6TERABIT. they wanna steal 2TERABITS of EVERY optical or ethernet devices which isnt the government doing it if they wanna see whats in your computer they can document their reasons of why which is what a warrant is they dont need one if they believe a crime is occuring and literally take the computer by law to inspect it then give it back when nothings wrong they leave you a claim ticket and have you document it at the nearest policing station or whatever fill out forms sign 'they are taking my PC and i can get it back when it wasnt used for crimes." when australia doesnt technically have an internet and doesnt technically have RAID arrays which is required to use USB or SSD or NVME or storage tech with no moving parts and multicore a 2TB SSD is twice as fast and often has 2x 1TB wafer chips in there figure it out the IO controller chip supports many and you can buy the cheapest USB sticks with like 16terabytes of storage space i just see a $extend folder or uhh file format header thingy in the partition in my mainboard bios on that particular drive and using any cheap SSD or USB devices makes linux cry about the partition managers cant write or read extending past the storage limit. it doesnt take a genius to figure out what dumb gay fags the whole internet is.
infinitybitdepthinfinitygraphicsinfinitypixelsinfinityresolution.7z ~ pixeldrain

submitted by EccentricSage81 to Troubleshooting [link] [comments]

2024.05.15 04:22 ARTS1984 An Honest Conversation

Howdy y'all. I haven't posted for awhile so I thought I'd give another short story a try. This takes place during Chapter 2 after Kris, Susie and Ralsei split temporarily leaving Kris alone. Hope you enjoy.
An Honest Conversation
Kris, Susie and Ralsei came up to a split in the road in Cyber City, Ralsei noting the occasion by walking up in front of the group and looking towards Kris and Susie as they wondered what he had to say.
"Seems we've come to a split in the road. We should split up--Kris, who do you want to go with?" Ralsei looked to the human, slightly annoying Susie.
"Why does Kris get to pick all the time?!" Susie walked up towards Ralsei, grabbing him by the shirt. "You're coming with me."
With that, a blank faced Kris was left behind as Susie took off down the northern alley leaving the human behind to fend for himself.
"SUSIE!!" Ralsei shouted.
"WHAT?!"Susie responded.
"you can put me down." The goat Darkner whispered in slight annoyance.
"...oh." Susie gently stopped running, putting the hairy goat Darkner down. "Sorry."
"Why'd you leave Kris behind like that?" Ralsei asked, wiping off his green robes.
"He'll be fine." Susie sighed. "Sides...I was kinda nervous he'd choose me."
"Why?" Ralsei inquired.
"We just became friends yesterday, ya doofus." Susie explained, sitting down against the alley wall. "I'm not ready for that conversation...yet."
"That conversation?" Ralsei raised an eyelid.
"What, are you a million questions Ralsei today?"
"I'm sorry, I'm kinda new to this whole friends thing myself." Ralsei looked down.
Susie sighed, remembering that very fact herself.
"Yeah, kinda hard just having a Ralsei statue as company I suppose." Susie mused, wiping her snout. "The thing is...me and Kris have always been on the opposite end of the spectrum. Kris...he's had security his whole life. Me, I've had shitty parents and no guarantee of a good meal or warm bed. It sucks. I treated him like dirt for the longest time Ralsei. One time, I came pretty damn close to really hurting him. If I didn't stop myself right then I would've done it. I was mad at him...he was so socially awkward, never talked to anyone, kept to himself. Despite everything I did, Kris risked his life for mine. For the first time in my life, I was scared to lose someone. I saw the King holding Kris in his disgusting hands, using the very same words I muttered earlier..."QUIET PEOPLE PISS ME OFF" he uttered his tongue out. It hit me what I had to do."
"Susie, I think it's clear to me that Kris would listen and not judge you given his actions." Ralsei sat down, playing with his fur.
"You think?" Susie asked. "I hardly know the kid. All I know for sure is that he has the greatest Mom ever and that his hair smells annoyingly of apples. You don't know what willpower it took for me NOT to take a bite outta that kid's head."
"I'm sure he'd get you an apple if you asked." Ralsei snickered at the thought.
"His Mom makes good pies...I'll have to pester Kris to have his Mom make us some of her cinnamon-butterscotch pies she's known for." Susie drooled at the thought. "You should come to the Light World sometime, Ralsei. You'd enjoy it."
"I'll...keep that in mind." Ralsei looked away, dodging the question as nimbly as he could.
"I mean it! We three and Lancer would be invincible!" Susie grinned, just thinking of it. "You could be Ms. Alphy's teacher's pet and Lancer could dig all the holes in town he wanted. There's enough pot holes already as it is...a few more wouldn't hurt I suppose."
"I'm sure it would be wonderful, Susie." Ralsei acknowledged.
"Well, just think about it." Susie let end it there, seeing the troubled look on Ralsei's face. There was something he obviously wasn't telling her but it could wait. She didn't want to ruin this. "Look, the real reason I dragged you into this path was--I want to ask you about Kris."
"Kris? What about?" Ralsei asked.
"Don't tell Kris I said any of what I'm about to tell you. And I mean NONE of it Ralsei." Susie narrowed her eyes.
"My lips are zipped." Ralsei meekly responded.
"Good." Susie sighed. "After we left the Dark World yesterday, I felt things I hadn't felt ever...I wasn't sure what happened was real. All I knew was that I felt them and that I didn't want to lose them...most of all, I didn't want to lose Kris. Kris...the kid I hated for my all time in Hometown I now couldn't stand to be without. I thought of em' the whole night. I didn't get any sleep Ralsei and trust me, that bed you presented earlier was VERY tempting...you bastard."
"S-Sorry."
"It's ok...I'm just venting here. Anyway...I guess what I'm saying is that I don't know how I should go about this whole thing."
"When did you plan to have...the conversation?"
"Sometime in the Dark World, when it was just me and Kris."
"Why don't you talk to him when you guys are done with this adventure? You could walk him home." Ralsei suggested.
"Say Kris, why don't I walk ya home and we can talk serious junk...yeah Rals, that'll go down real well."
"R-Rals?"
"What, no one ever called you a nickname?" Susie raised an eyebrow.
"Well, insults like toothpaste boy not withstanding...Rals isn't bad." Ralsei blushed.
"Geez, I'm gonna have to teach you a LOT." Susie moaned, slapping the side of her snout. "Don't expect these lessons to be free either, toothpaste boy. You're gonna have to make a lot of cakes."
"S-Sure." Ralsei sweat. "I mean it though...don't make a big deal, just...offer to walk him home and just bring it up when you two are nice and relaxed."
"Like, when we're sitting down or something? Like now?"
"Yeah! We're talking, having a serious conversation aren't we?" Ralsei nodded in glee.
"No, we're talking about rainbows." Susie rolled her eyes.
"W-We are?" Ralsei second guessed himself.
"NO...that was SARCASM." Susie sighed once again. "I swear with this guy..."
"Sarcasm?"
"I swear I'm gonna call you Million Questions Ralsei forever if you don't stop." Susie crossed her arms. "It's when you want to express annoyance but do it indirectly."
"Huh. I'll have to try that..."
"Can we focus?" Susie snapped.
"O-Oh, sorry--so Kris, what do you want to ask him?"
"I try asking him if we'd still be friends if I opened that supply closet door and you guys weren't there but I chickened out at the last second. I didn't want to think about the possibility of that not being a thing."
Ralsei went silent, looking at Susie as she looked to the ground thinking of Kris in that moment.
"Susie, I didn't realize that Kris meant that much to you." Ralsei rubbed the back of his head. "Am I the one you should really be asking for advice on this? I mean, after all I'm...just learning how to be a friend. And you've done all the teaching thus far."
"Kris and I just became friends. The thought of losing that just scares me...scares me to my very core. The little I did sleep I had a nightmare. It was me and him in front of that bunker door in the woods. He was shaking the whole time, scared of something--I asked him what was wrong. He wouldn't tell me, backing away each time I walked towards the door. Suddenly, the door opened and a look of terror that I've never seen on him erupted on Kris' face. He looked at me, reached out to me but was sucked in and I had to watch as the doors closed on him. I couldn't save him, Ralsei! Kris almost died trying to save me yesterday Ralsei...I don't want to lose him." Susie began to break down. "All this time, I've treated that kid LIKE SHIT and despite everything, he still stuck his neck out for me. What do you say to that!? What do you do with that?! Jesus..."
Susie stood up, sniffling and wanting to begin walking again.
"H-Hey...Susie."Ralsei got up, gently putting a hand on Susie's arm, Susie growing stiff at the contact, Ralsei quickly pulling his hand away.
"Y-Yeah?" Susie turned around, trying to regain her composure.
"My offer still stands. I could teach you some healing spells, if you're up for it. Of course, the lessons would be payment for your advice from earlier." Ralsei offered. "This could help you protect Kris."
"They're hiding something Ralsei, I know it." Susie said. "It troubles Kris, even before we came to the Dark World. If there's something Kris knows and is trying to solve, I want to be prepared for the worst case scenario. I want to protect him."
"Then we'll start with the basics and on the way, refine your approach to conversation starters, all right?" Ralsei smirked.
"R-Rals?"
"Yes, Susie?"
"You're not half bad." Susie smirked, putting an arm around him.
"T-Thanks." Ralsei blushed. "I don't suppose that would translate to hugging..."
"DO NOT PUSH YOUR LUCK."

submitted by ARTS1984 to krusie_gang [link] [comments]

2024.05.15 04:00 AwakenedEyes No! Blackthorn isn't just another Sailor

One of the area where, IMO, the tv show has done the biggest disservice compared to both the book and Japan History, is the way Blackthorn was systematically downplayed. Because of that, these forums are full of tv show fans rightfully puzzled at some of the tv show internal logic. Why would Toranaga ally himself with just another Gaigin? Why did the real life counterpart to Blackthorn, Wiliam Adams, became a trusted advisor for Tokugawa Ieyasu (Toranaga's counterpart in History) if he was just another sailor?
To rectify this perception, I'd like to share with you these small excerpt from the book, explaining to the reader the importance and immense knowledge of Pilots in Europan 1600s :

He knew they were all afraid of him, even the Captain-General, and that most hated him. But that was normal, for it was the pilot who commanded at sea; it was he who set the course and ran the ship, he who brought them from port to port.
Any voyage today was dangerous because the few navigational charts that existed were so vague as to be useless. And there was absolutely no way to fix longitude. “Find how to fix longitude and you’re the richest man in the world,” his old teacher, Alban Caradoc, had said. Out of sight of land you’re always lost, lad.” Caradoc had paused and shaken his head sadly at him as always. “You’re lost, lad. Unless …”
“Unless you have a rutter!” Blackthorne had shouted happily, knowing that he had learned his lessons well. He was thirteen then and had already been apprenticed a year to Alban Caradoc, pilot and shipwright, who had become the father he had lost, who had never beaten him but taught him and the other boys the secrets of shipbuilding and the intimate way of the sea.
A rutter was a small book containing the detailed observation of a pilot who had been there before. It recorded magnetic compass courses between ports and capes, headlands and channels. It noted the sounding and depths and color of the water and the nature of the seabed. It set down the how we got there and how we got back: how many days on a special tack, the pattern of the wind, when it blew and from where, what currents to expect and from where; the time of storms and the time of fair winds; where to careen the ship and where to water; where there were friends and where foes; shoals, reefs, tides, havens; at best, everything necessary for a safe voyage.
But a rutter was only as good as the pilot who wrote it, the scribe who hand-copied it, the very rare printer who printed it, or the scholar who translated it. A rutter could therefore contain errors. Even deliberate ones. A pilot never knew for certain until he had been there himself. At least once.
At sea the pilot was leader, sole guide, and final arbiter of the ship and her crew. Alone he commanded from the quarterdeck.

The book also explains that Pilots were raised as apprentice by another pilot master, working for them for at least 12 years to learn the trade:

"You’re apprenticed for twelve years. You’ve ten more to go and then you’re free. But until that time, until 1588, you’ll learn how to build ships and how to command them—you’ll obey Alban Caradoc, Master Shipwright and Pilot and Member of Trinity House, or you’ll never have a license. And if you don’t have a license, you’ll never pilot any ship in English waters, you’ll never command the quarterdeck of any English ship in any waters because that was good King Harry’s law, God rest his soul."

So no, despite the tv show attempt at depicting Blackthorn as just another sailor, he was actually an incredibly gifted pilot, speaking 5 languages (dutch,portuguese, Spanish and Latin in addition to English), with a huge knowledge of history, politics, navigation, religion, war, trade, shipbuilding and the leader of the expedition of 5 ships with a total of 460 men that sailed for Magellan's pass and of which one ship and a mere 16 men arrived to shipwreck in Japan.

submitted by AwakenedEyes to ShogunTVShow [link] [comments]

2024.05.15 03:52 Calledinthe90s The Mortgage, Part 3

I accidentally posted this to my username instead of my subreddit so here is is:
The Mortgage, Part 3
“Fuck,” I said as I drove to work in the old beater that only started on the fourth try because it could tell that I was pissed off. Ray’s case started at two o’clock, and I was heading to the office to get ready. “Fuck fuck fuckity fucking fuck. Fuck.” I’d wanted to tell Angela about Ray’s case, and how I was sorry that I hadn’t wanted to help him, but now I would, I would help him, and I would win, but then I’d gotten her all riled up on something else, something totally different, something way more serious.
My wife had given me a triple ultimatum: fix things up with her father, save idiot Ray from Sy-Co Corp., and somehow find a downpayment for the place she wanted to buy, in the little townhouse infill project in Bixity. It was like demanding I do a double bank shot, and then run over to the baseball diamond and hit a home run after first pointing to where it would land, Babe Ruth style.
Angela was mad at me, seriously mad. She’d slipped out that morning before I was even awake, sliding quietly past me on the couch. I didn’t realize she was gone until I heard the faint click of the front door closing. I jumped up, tripped over a blanket, and by the time I got up and my robe on, the elevator down the hall dinged, and Angela was gone before I opened the apartment door.
I swore at myself some more and pounded the steering wheel, “I fucked up,” I said, several times as I hit the wheel over and over again, until I accidentally honked it, and then looked all sheepish when the guy in front of me gave me the finger. I reached my office without further incident, but instead of walking in the front door, I went further down the hall, and into the office of Mark Cecil-Rowe, Barrister, LL.D, the man with the finest speaking voice I ever heard. When I entered his office I forgot for a minute about Angela and her father and sleeping on the couch the night before. I forget about everything, except the reason that I had come to Cecil-Rowe’s office: to stump him with a legal problem that I had solved, but which I was pretty sure he could not. In other words, I had come to preen and to brag and to boast. No one likes a showoff, and I had come to show off. I put my hand on the door and turned the knob. After a brief pause, I flung open the door.
“I’m a goddamn genius,” I said as I strolled into the older man’s office.
I noticed the echo of a hastily closed desk drawer hanging in the air. In Aaron’s office, where I rented space, a sudden act of concealment implied cocaine, but with Cecil-Rowe, the item in question was probably a mickey of vodka. I had the sense that he’d been drinking a bit before I arrived, but his powers of observation were unimpaired, and when he looked into my face, his expression showed sympathy, and actual pain.
“What have you done now?” he said, as set the papers before him to one side, and readied himself to hear my latest tale of legal brilliance.
“I’m a genius,” I said.
“Oh dear. Have a seat.”
“No really, I am. I’m a genius. I got this case that everyone says you can’t win, but I’m gonna win it, and when I do, I’m gonna look like a genius.” Cecil-Rowe gave me a sad indulgent smile.
“Whenever you tell me you’re a genius, I am always concerned about what is to follow. When you get wrapped up in what you call your genius, you tend to ignore the more mundane things we lawyers have to do to win a case. You think you’re going to win by genius alone.”
“Let me tell you why I’m a goddamn genius.” With effort I wiped the smug, self-satisfied expression that was on my face.
“Tell me why you’re a genius,” Cecil-Rowe said, “while I pour us a coffee.” He heaved his bulky body up from his chair and shuffled over to a counter. He picked up a carafe of hot coffee sitting on a hot plate, and poured two cups. “Speak,” he said, handing me one. I took a sip of the coffee, and told Cecil-Rowe the tale of Cousin Ray: his purchase of a franchise from Sy-Co Corp, its swift demise, the crash and burn in Commercial Court, the Minutes of Settlement, the seventy-one kilometer limit, and lastly, Sy-Co’s motion scheduled for two p.m. that very day, seeking an interim injunction shutting down Ray’s place.
Cecil-Rowe absorbed all this without the need to take notes. Instead, he sat back while he eyed me, taking the occasional sip of coffee, and smiling at the extravagant flourishes and details that brought out Ray’s story to full effect.
“Obviously Ray is dead on arrival,” he said, “but I guess this is the part where you tell me how you’re going to win.”
So I told him how I was going to win, but it didn’t have the desired effect. “I told ya I’m a genius, Mr. C,” cueing him to applaud, to admit what a brilliant lawyer I was. But there was no applause from Mark Cecil-Rowe. He looked at me without so much as a smile.
“You can cling to that genius notion as a consolation prize, after you get whipped this afternoon in court.”
“No way,” I said, “not a chance. I got this thing won hands down. I’m gonna kick ass in court today and--”
“And how exactly do you plan to do that, if you don’t have evidence?”
“What?”
“Evidence, Calledinthe9os. It’s what lawyers like me use to beat geniuses like you.”
“But I’m gonna win without proof. I don’t need proof. The argument I’m gonna make, relies on simple facts that are totally obvious, so the judge is gonna--” Cecil-Rowe stuck up his hand.
“Stop right there. I know what’s coming. You’re going to ask the judge to take *judicial notice.”
And he was right. That was exactly what I was going to do.
There are some things so obvious that you didn’t have to prove them, things that everyone knew. You didn’t have to prove that water froze at zero degrees and boiled at a hundred, or that Bixity was between West Bay and East Bay.
“You got it,” I said, “judicial notice all the way.”
“You’re going to tell the judge that the centerpiece of your argument, the lynchpin of your case is a fact known to pretty well everyone, and so you don’t need proof.”
“Exactly,” I said. Cecil-Rowe took another sip of his coffee, and left me hanging in the silence for a while before he spoke.
“If that’s true, then why does coming up with that argument make you a genius?”
“Oh, I said,”I didn’t think of that.”
“It is acceptable to rely on judicial notice for minor, ancillary points. But you never should walk into court thinking that the court will take judicial notice of your entire defence. It’s just too risky.”
“But how am I going to rustle up a witness in time for this afternoon?”
“Worry about that after you leave my office. I can’t help you with that. What I want to know, is why you’re doing this at the last minute.”
“What makes you think I’m doing this at the last minute?”
“Because you never would have resorted to judicial notice if you were properly prepared. If you’d opened this case a bit earlier, you’ve have everything lined up. But you got to work on it late, and so you want to rely on judicial notice. You’ve messed up, Calledinthe90s, and you know what my rule is when you mess up.” Cecil-Rowe didn’t extend aid to me, until I admitted the error of my ways. It was infuriating, but he was inflexible. So I fessed up.
“My idiot cousin Ray’s been trying to retain me for almost two weeks, but I was putting him off because I was mad at him. So now my wife’s mad at me, and if I don’t win this case, I’m dead. Plus her dad’s mad at me too and --” My brain roared into overdrive, a mess of family and law and fear, and at the centre of it, thoughts of Angela’s anger and her father. My mind took off, and then came to an instant halt at a helpful destination.
“Yes?” Cecil-Rowe said.
“Sorry. I just realized how to solve the evidence problem. Look, can I ask you about the thing I actually came here to ask you about?”
“You have a problem that’s worse than having no evidence? What could be worse than -- oh. You don’t have a retainer. Your client doesn't have any money.”
“Exactly. How do I get paid? That’s the problem.” I explained that Ray had no money, as in none, and that if he did have money, he wouldn’t spend it on me. Instead, he’d go back downtown and throw his cash at some big firm, who would take on his case, and proceed to lose it in a calm, careful, sober manner, ending in a reporting letter to Ray telling him that he’d lost.
“Now that’s a problem I can solve,” Cecil-Rowe said.
“Really? ‘Cause I can’t see a way around it. I think I’m gonna have to do this for free, and that really pisses me off.” Cecil-Rowe shook his head.
“You may or may not get paid, but you can set things up so that if you win, you’ll win pretty good.”
“How? Ray’s a deadbeat. Tapped out.”
“But is he desperate?”
“Totally. The first time he failed, he lost his own money, but if he goes under this time, he’s taking family money with him, and he’ll be the black sheep forever.”
“And he’s using family to emotionally blackmail you into helping him?’
“Like no shit. That’s the part that pisses me off the most. I’m like a goddamn slave, being forced to work for free.”
“Never fear, young apprentice. I have just the thing in mind.” He reached into a drawer, and pulled out a form. “Fill in the blanks, and have him sign.”
I looked it over, and saw that the document was a retainer agreement. I whistled. “Holy shit. If he signs this, he’s almost my slave.”
“Close, but not quite” Cecil-Rowe said, “the Latin term for this is "contractus pro venditione animae"”. It’s the ultimate retainer agreement. Once Ray signs that, you own any cause of action he has against the person suing him. You can settle the case on any terms you like, and you get to keep whatever proceeds there are.” Cecil-Rowe placed the folder back in a drawer, and from his manner you could tell that the interview was over.
“Awesome, Mr. C. I’ll call you from Commercial Court when we’re done.”
“Commercial Court?” he said.
“Yeah, Commercial Court.”
“This just keeps getting worse. Take notes, Calledinthe90s, while I school you on Commercial Court. Commercial Court is a jungle, and without preparation, you’ll get savaged.”
“That’s what happened to Ray when--”
“Take notes, young apprentice,” he said, tossing me a pad and a pen. He started to lecture, and I took notes that I have with me to this day, in a safe deposit box downstairs in the vault at Mega Bank Main Branch.
* * *
By the time Cecil-Rowe finished schooling me, it was close to ten, and the case started at two. I didn’t have much time. I ran down the hall to my office, and called Ray’s restaurant. No answer. Then I called Ray’s house. I expected to get Ray’s wife, but the man himself answered.
“You’re not at work. Why aren’t you at work?”
“Sy-Co Corp served all my employees with a cease and desist letter. They all got scared and took off. The place is shut down.”
“You gotta fax machine at home?” He did, and asked why.
“I’m taking your case, but only if you sign the paper I’m about to send and fax it back.” I sent the fax, and five minutes later it came back signed, and it was official: Ray had sold me his legal soul.
I went out to the parking lot, got into my beater and drove fast. In less than thirty minutes I reached my destination. I knocked on the door, and when it opened, my diminutive mother-in-law poked out her head. “What a pleasant surprise,” she said.
“Sorry, Mrs. M, but I’m in a super hurry. I gotta rush to get to court to help Ray. But first, I gotta speak to Dr. M.”
“He’s not here,” she said.
“Not here?”
“He’s on his way to his bridge game. He left just a few minutes ago.”
“Where’s the club?”
“He’s walking there,” she said, and pointed down the street.
“Thanks.” I got into my car and headed where Mrs. M had pointed, passing big houses and new project with an “Opening Soon” sign. And walking past it was the figure of Dr. M.
“Hey, Dr. M,” I called out the window. He stopped and looked around, startled. But he didn’t see me, not at first.
“It’s me, Dr. M. Me, Calledin90s.” He leaned forward as if to see me better. I got out of the car.
“Is something wrong with Angela? Or the baby?”
“No, no not at all, sorry to scare you, it’s nothing like that. I need your help.”
“Oh.” He started walking again, and now it was my turn to be a bit stunned, watching my father-in-law walk away from me. I caught up with him in a few quick strides.
“Listen, I really need your help.”
“And I really need to get to a bridge game.”
“This isn’t about me. It’s about Ray.” That brought him to a halt. He turned to me, angrier even than he’d been the night before.
“Did you drive all the way out here just to make fun of me? To remind me of how you won, distracting me with nonsense about Ray’s case?”
“I mean it,” I said, “I can win Ray’s case. I can prove it in a few words.”
“Prove it, then.” So I did. I spoke words, only a few words, but they were the right words to speak to Dr. M, for the words I spoke were in his language, words that he understood perfectly.
“I understand,” he said, “you’ve come to boast some more, to prove that you were right after all.”
“I want to win Ray’s case, but I don’t have any proof of what I’m saying.”
“You don’t need to prove that two plus two is four.”
“This, I gotta prove, and I need you to help me prove it. I need you to come to court with me, as my witness.”
“I can’t do that. I didn’t witness anything.”
“As my witness. My expert witness.” Unlike a normal witness, an expert witness can give an opinion. An expert is there not to advocate, I explained to Dr. M but to instruct, to teach.
“My bridge partner won’t be very happy,” he said.
“But Ray will, and so will Mrs. M and Angela and--”
“Very well. Do you have a cell phone? We can call the bridge club from my car.”
* * *
We were on the highway getting close to the downtown exit, when my wife called my cell phone. Back then cell phone service was super expensive and my wife only used it for emergencies. Or when she was really angry. I picked up the phone, wondering which it would be.
“I’m so happy that you made things up with my father,” she said.
“How did you know?”
“My mother called. She says you took him with you, that you went out together.”
“He’s with me right now,” I said.
“Where are you going?”
“To court. Going to court to win Ray’s case for him.”
“And you brought my father with you to watch?” She was so happy, I could hear in her voice that she was smiling. “That’s a great way to bond with him, Calledinthe90s. Look, I’m sorry I got so mad at you earlier, I really am. My dad’s a bit too sensitive and--”
“Sorry, Angela, your dad’s not coming to watch me.”
“Why is he with you, then?”
“He’s my witness,” I said.
“What?”
“His expert witness,” Dr. M said, loudly enough for Angela to hear.
My wife’s anger exploded into the phone. She wanted to know how I could expose her elderly, vulnerable father to the stress of a court case. I tried to tell her how I needed him, how there was literally no one else I could turn to, that her father was an expert, a true expert, and the judge was legally bound to believe him, but Angela heard none of this.
“Look,’ I said, “I promise you that--” And then I lowered the phone and pushed the red button, terminating the call. I’d learned that the best way to hang up on someone, was to do it when I was doing the talking. That way it looked like the call had dropped.
“I’m going to steal that move,” Dr. M said.
We rolled into the parking lot. I grabbed the cloth bag out of the back of my car, the bag that held my law robes and shirt and tabs, plus the other stuff I needed for court. It was one-thirty, still thirty minutes to go, not a lot of time to get robed and ready for court. It was just past one-forty five when I, with Dr. M in tow, opened the door to a courtroom on the eighth floor of an old insurance building that had been converted into a courthouse, the home of Commercial Court.
“Commercial Court is an exclusive club,” Cecil-Rowe had explained to me earlier that day, “the legal playground of the rich and powerful. They’ll know instantly that you’re not one of them.” And he was right. It was clear from the moment I walked in that I did not belong, for I was the only lawyer in robes. Everyone else was wearing a suit, and not some cheap thing off the rack like I wore.
There were a half-dozen lawyers present, and after they saw me, they exchanged knowing looks about the stranger amongst them. I ignored them, and walked up to the Registrar. I told him the case I was on, and he signed me in.
“First time in Commercial Court?” he said, eyeing my robes. “You know you don’t have to be robed in Commercial Court.” In other Superior Courts, you always had to bring your robes and get all dressed up. But Commercial Court had its own set of rules, and in the court for rich people, their lawyers did not have to wear robes.
“You’re here on the Sy-Co case?” a young woman asked. She was a junior like me, give a year or two either way. She was dressed in the finest downtown counsel fashion, some designer thing that Angela would know if she saw it.
“Just got retained,” I said.
“You know there’s no adjournments, right? We don’t do adjournments in Commercial Court. I’m just trying to be helpful, because I don’t think you've been here before. You know you don’t have to be robed, right?
“So I heard.”
“So where’s your material? You haven’t served anything, so how do you plan to argue your case?”
“I gotta witness,” I said.
She smiled. “There’s no viva voce evidence, either. Affidavit only.”
“We’ll see what the judge says.” There was a knock from the other side of the door to the judge’s chambers, and then the man himself entered.
I was amazed to see that even the judge wasn’t wearing a robe; instead, he was wearing a light coloured suit and a bright blue bow tie. He was dressed as good as the lawyers, all part of the downtown Commercial Court club, the playground of the richest and most powerful corporations in the City.
“Commercial Court’s not like other courts,” Cecil-Rowe told me earlier that day, explaining that most cases were over in fifteen minutes or less. A plaintiff showed up with some papers, and had a short consultation with the judge. The judge signed an order granting an injunction, or taking away a man’s business, or freezing his money. Commercial Court is where you went to get quick and simple court orders that eviscerated your opponent before the case even got going.
Defendants would appear sometimes in Commercial Court, Cecil-Rowe explained, but it was usually their last time up. Defendants always died a quick death in Commercial Court.
The judge took his seat, and then looked over the lawyers before him. His eyes moved along, and then stopped when they reached me, the one lawyer who was not like the others.
“You don’t need robes in Commercial Court,” the judge said to me.
“I’ll remember that for next time,” I said.
“What case are you on?”
I told him.
“He’s filed no responding materials,” my opponent said, “nothing at all.”
“I’m just vetting the list,” the judge said, “I’ll circle back to you two in a few minutes.” I listend while the judge vetted the rest of the afternoon list: a Mareva, plus a Norwich order, with counsel on those cases sent away in a matter of minutes.
Now the courtroom was almost empty, just the judge, two lawyers, the registrar and my star witness and father-in-law, Dr. M, who sat in the back of the courtroom dressed in an old business suit, put on hastily at his place two hours earlier, when I urged him to hurry it up, to not waste so much time on picking a suit.
“Back to you,” the judge said, addressing my opponent, “I thought this was an uncontested matter. That’s what your confirmation sheet said.”
“I’m sorry, Your Honour, but I didn’t know until I got here that the case was defended.”
“I got retained at the last minute,” I said, “barely three hours ago, the day after I read the papers. But I’m ready to go, ready to argue the case on the merits, so long as you grant me an indulgence, and let me call my witness, to let him testify in person instead of by affidavit, there being no time for me to draft anything.”
Opposing counsel was on her feet. “That’s not how things are done in Commercial Court,” she said, “or any court that I know of, for that matter. My friend (that’s what they make lawyers call each other in court, ‘my friend,’ even though you might hate the other guy’s guts),” the lawyer said, “my friend should have served his responding materials and filed them with the court. Instead, he’s taken us totally by surprise.”
“I’m sorry my friend is surprised by opposition,” I said, “but then consider, it’s my client’s livelihood that’s at stake. If my friend gets her injunction, Ray Telewu’s business is dead, and he loses everything. So yes, my client opposes the injunction, and yes, I’d like to call evidence.”
The judge didn’t consult the papers before him nor the books, but instead, he looked up at the big white clock on the courtroom wall. Its hands said two-fifteen.
“How long will your witness take, counsel?”
“In chief, ten minutes.” I’d practiced with Dr. M on the way in, and I was pretty sure he could do it in five, but I gave him a bit of extra time, just in case.
“We’ve got about two hours,” the judge said, “but I want to be fair to you and your client. Let’s take a fifteen minute recess so you can get instructions. Either we go ahead today with viva voce evidence, or we adjourn, and that will give Calledinthe90s time to file responding materials.”
When everyone came back, the junior’s boss was there, Senior Counsel, a heavy weight, one of those big guys downtown. Plus they brought this guy from Sy-Co Corp, the head of some bullshit division, with some bullshit title, Head of whatever, so that’s the title I’ll give him here. He was The Head. He was the man, the big cheese, the signer of the affidavit on which Sy-Co relied that day.
“What’s he doing here?” I asked Senior Counsel.
He stared at me, all lean and steel grey, looking every inch the hard hitting lawyer that commanded the biggest fees. “If you’re calling a live witness, then so can we. The Head will give evidence today, in advance of your client, so that the judge hears it from him first.” His junior smirked at me, and the two of them sat down, delighted that they’d thought of a way to one up me.
Except that they’d done it by exposing their client to cross-examination. The judge came in, allowed the Head to testify, and when he was done, I stood up.
“Just a few questions,” I said. Senior Counsel was stunned for an instant, and then he stood.
“This serves no purpose, Your Honour. The witness has confirmed the simple facts of his affidavit, and there’s no disputing it. Ray Telewu opened a restaurant less than seventy-one kilometres from Bixity City Hall, and that’s in breach of the Minutes of Settlement he signed.”
I did not bother to respond. Instead, I just stood, and I started to ask questions.
“Have a look at that map in your affidavit,” I said, and he did. I picked up my copy, and tore the map out of it. I passed it up to him.
“What do you notice about this map?”
“That it’s accurate,” the Head said, repeating his evidence in chief, amplifying it, talking about how the map contained perfect measurement.
“You will notice that the map is flat,” I said, laying it on the witness box before him.
“Of course it’s flat. That’s what maps are. Maps are flat.”
“But the earth is round,” I said, “or more properly, a sphere.” Senior Counsel was on his feet in an instant.
“What difference does that make?” he said.
“What you’ll hear from my expert witness, is that a flat map cannot accurately show Earth’s curves. A flat map distorts distances, and in this case, reduces them.”
“But that can’t be by very much.”
“In this case, by just over twenty meters,” Dr. M said from the back of the court.
“That’s my expert witness, the esteemed Dr. M.” I didn’t actually say Dr. M. Instead, I said his real name. But I’m not going to use the real names of my family here, so I’ll just keep calling him Dr. M. “Dr. M was a professor of Physics at the University of Bixity for almost thirty years. He has published numerous papers on particle physics, and is the first Canadian winner of the Wolf Prize for physics.”

* * *

It went downhill after that for Sy-Co Corp. My father-in-law testified, explaining in simple language, language that even a child could understand, that the Earth was a sphere, that the shortest distance between two points on Earth was a curve, not a straight line. He summarized his calculations in plain English, dumbing down the math, so that everyone present imagined, if only for the moment, that they shared his understanding of a difficult mathematical equation.
Senior Counsel tried to cross-examine Dr. M, but it did not go well, my father-in-law indulging him, gently chiding him, continuing his explanations until the lawyer sat down, defeated by Dr. M’s mastery of the subject,his own lack of preparation and his inability to improvise. When counsel said that he had no further questions, the judge addressed us all.
“I’m not going to reserve, and I don’t think I need to tell everyone why. I think it will take about a minute for me to write a decision saying that the Earth is not flat. I’ll give you some more time after that, but after fifteen minutes, I”ll be back to render my decision.” He rose, everyone bowed, and he disappeared behind the door to judge’s chambers.
I pulled a piece of paper out of my file, and slammed it on the desk before Senior Counsel and his junior. “Fill in the blanks, and sign,” I said.
Dr. M’s head shot up at the commotion, and he shuffled over to see what was going on.
“What’s this?” Senior Counsel said, picking up the paper I gave him..
“Minutes of Settlement. You fill in a number, a big number, for the costs you gotta pay me. Your client signs, and then we’re done.” Senior Counsel opened his mouth to bargain, but I overrode him.
“You know your client’s going to lose; the judge made that obvious. Hurry up if you want to settle; we don’t have much time.”
At the end of most Canadian court cases, the loser has to pay at least part of the winner’s legal fees. That’s the way it’s been since forever, and I think it’s a good rule. Sy-Co Corp had lost, so it had to pay a good chunk of Ray’s costs, and Ray’s costs were somewhere between whatever bullshit figure I claimed they were, and where they actually ought to be. Senior Counsel took the paper over to his client. There was a brief discussion, and then they came back, with the form signed, and a number written in the blank space.
I’ll give it to Sy-Co Corp and their lawyer. It wasn’t a bullshit number, a low ball number. They gave me a real number, a number more like something I’d actually accept, a number that made sense to pay me in costs, in light of the success I’d had, and how I got it. It was a respectful number, a common sense number, and I appreciated it an awful lot.
I tossed the paper back at them.
“Add a zero,” I said, continuing on when Senior Counsel blanched, and his junior retreated a step. “I know what’s going on here. Your client sold mine a bullshit franchise, one with a history of failing.” The franchise had opened up again under a new owner not long after Ray had lost it and then it promptly failed again. Like I said at the start of this story, it’s an old story. It’s how some franchise companies make money. “Your client makes more money selling bullshit franchises doomed to fail, then it does from the honest ones that make money. So add a zero to that number, or Ray’s gonna sue you, class action and all that, for all the people you’ve fucked.”
The Head stepped forward from the benches and spoke to me.
“We get threats like that all the time, but no one follows through. They don’t have the money to fight us, and neither does your client. So go ahead and sue.”
“It’s true that Ray doesn’t have jack shit,” I said, “not a pot to piss in, but he’s my cousin, Ray is, and even if he doesn’t have money, he’s got me. Ray’s family, and for Ray, I’ll sue you guys for free. Hell, I’ll even pay the expenses. Plus I’m gonna put a jury notice in, too, come to think of it, ‘cause juries--”
Senior Counsel cut me off, and moved his client to the back of the courtroom. There was a brief discussion, and then they came back. I watched as Senior Counsel wrote a single digit on the Minutes, a zero, written right where I wanted it.
“You’ll have to initial the change,” I said to the Head of Sy-C0, and it gave me great satisfaction to watch him sign.
“Don’t forget,” I said the moment his pen stopped moving, “for the settlement to be valid, I need to get the money today. Right now.”
“Can’t it wait until tomorrow?” the Head said.
“Not if you want the settlement to stay in place. I’ll follow you back to your office, and you can put a cheque in my hands.”

* * *

“What’s this?” my wife said when I entered the apartment later that day, after I’d driven Dr. M home, stopping first at a local pub for beers.
“It’s an absurdly expensive bunch of flowers,” I said, “although no flowers, however beautiful, however expensive, could expiate my--”
She took the flowers, and gave a kiss.
“My mom called. She told me what happened. You fixed things with my dad.”
“Yup,” I said. I had certainly done that. I’d made Dr. M a professor again, if only for a few minutes. Not only a professor, but an expert witness. The judge had declared him an expert in plain terms and Dr.M had beamed when he’d heard those words.
“And you won Ray’s case, too. But my mom didn’t know how, and I don’t know how you did it either.”
“I’ll tell you over dinner tonight,” I said.
“But we agreed no more dinners out; we have to save money, now that a baby’s coming.”
I passed her the envelope that I’d received a few hours before. She opened it, and took out a cheque, a cheque drawn up for an amount I specified, made payable to Mr. and Mrs. Calledinthe90s.
The moment I got that cheque, all I could think about was how my wife would react when I put it into her hands. I could not wait to see her eyes bulge, to hear her voice say “oh my god,” to hear her laugh.
She did none of these things. Instead, she cried.
“Does this mean we can buy a house?” The money wouldn’t be enough to buy a house, not nowadays, with prices being so crazy. But things were different back then in the 90s. Sure, the internet was barely a thing and cell phones were super expensive and a lot of things sucked, but I’ll give the nineties one thing: houses were cheap.
“I think so,” I said.

submitted by Calledinthe90s to Calledinthe90s [link] [comments]

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submitted by Satta_Matka_Guessing to SattaMatkaGuessing [link] [comments]

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submitted by Satta_Matka_Guessing to SattaMatkaGuessing [link] [comments]

2024.05.15 03:33 2cool4ashe Within the comments of a Volume 1 cover art thread for a manga in /r/manga, a power mod won't stop trying to get the last word in.

The original thread in manga is a post titled "Tsumiki Ogami & the Strange Everyday Life. - Volume 1 Cover", and it's an image of the cover art for the new series' volume 1 edition (Japanese manga chapters get compiled into physical volumes so you can read 7-8 chapters at a time in one book).
Now, I wrote in the title that the drama involves a power mod, and personally, I don't know how many subs someone can mod for before they're considered a power mod, but the redditors in this conversation mod 150+ subreddits for reference, so I consider that power mod status. One of these power mods in particular will create a new subreddit for every new Weekly Shonen Jump manga series, precisely so they can be the top mod for the subreddit and dictate how the rules go there. It should also be noted that this power mod creates a discord server for these series as well, and advertises it in the series' subreddits.
With that out of the way, the drama spawns shortly after a regular comment about the art for the volume: (regular redditors will be abbrev. as C1, C2, while power mod accounts will be Pmod1, Pmod2)

C1: BIG OL' STOMPERS. Pmod1: OgamiTsumiki gonna have a field trip with this today Pmod2[OP]: go away [links to a comment in another thread which states: "Don't listen to [Pmod1]. It's the same guy who'll shill his new subreddit for any new manga that appears."] Pmod1: Why do you hate me punpun, I thought we were besties :( C2: Spiderman pointing at Spiderman C3: battle of the power mods: who can be mods for more manga subreddits

Even though the spiderman comment was in reply to Pmod2, Pmod1 reads it and decides to respond to C2:

C2: Spiderman pointing at Spiderman Pmod1: Lol why don't u go and mald over some [Weekly Shonen Jump] series sales and [Table of Contents] shit what are you doing here xd. C2: Get help Pmod1: Say the same thing again but infront of a mirror now. C2: You're so god damn weird jfc Pmod1: Yeah sure you come and comment under my thread and I'm the weird one. Get a life bro lol reddit isn't everything. C2: Yes, you're the weird one. Maybe take your own advice to heart Pmod1: Bro lives on reddit and discord and likes to hate everywhere lol. No wonder they always clown on you, you should look deeper into yourself where it all went wrong. C2: Please get help Pmod1: I'm pleading the same for you too! Please go get help, being obsessed with others isn't good for you. C2: Yes, surely it's me being obsessed and not you. Get help, please. Pmod1: Just stop replying to me brother it's looking mad embarrassing for you [at this point]. C2: It's looking embarrassing for me when you're the one who replied to a comment that wasn't even a direct reply to you within a minute? Pmod1: Maybe stop sharing it to ur secret wicket discord server 😉 C2: This just makes you look even worse 😭 What would you have done if I hadn't made that comment here? Don't want your alt to get exposed and that's why you replied here instead of the discord even though the comment was made minutes later? Pmod1: What is bro yapping about 😭 go play with some charts or something don't disturb me now

(The way Pmod1 is talking to C2 makes it seems like C2 is a power mod, but I checked the account and they only mod 3 subreddits, so probably not? Anyways, the conversation, continued:)

C2: You are the one who started this convo man lmaoooo Pmod1: Yeah sure that's why it shows u being the one who said "Spiderman pointing at spiderman" first lol and what does that makes you? Don't say Batman u cringe af 🤧 C2: But that reply wasn't made to you? 😭 Pmod1: Indirectly it was?? 😭 Out of the two spidermans u referenced me as one too. C2: Are you really this dense? I didn't reply to you, you chose to engage in this convo so why are you now telling me to stop bothering you? Just stop replying lmao Pmod1: That's what I have been telling you too, stop being obsessed with me and this weird thing where you want to have the last reply for some reason. Just stop responding back. C2: Why would I? This is entertaining to me. Since you're apparently bothered by it, just stop replying and that's it? Pmod1: Lol bro thinks he's the main character C2: No, I just think you're a loser and clowning on you and other powermods is funny as fuck. Pmod1: Lol says the social loser who has been sitting on reddit all day. C2: You can't be this dense man. Not only have you been more active than me today specifically, you also immediately replied to a comment that wasn't even a reply to you and you are a god damn powermod. Like, the longer you keep replying the more you're embarrassing yourself. Pmod1: I just returned from office so I got more time now buddy. I can do this all day. Keep responding back and you'll keep getting a reply back. So just stop being a clown and stop now. C2: Again, why would I? You started this, not me and you also wanted this to stop and now you're changing your tune again. You keep making an ass out of yourself because you got so fucking triggered by a reply that wasn't even directed at you, that you can't help yourself but to continue this with more and more nonsense arguments digging yourself deeper and deeper into this hole.

I think that last comment by C2 really irritated Pmod1, because their replies get longer and the drama really duplicates:

Pmod1: Brother the only one who keeps falling deeper into this hole is you. It's like you're almost begging to be clowned atp. I can understand you have a lot of free time in your hand like most unemployed people, but that doesn't mean you should waste it all on reddit. If you want I can help you look for job applications. We can help you get through this, together. C2: It's incredible how dumb you are, jfc. Let me repeat: You started this. Not me. You. You immediately replied to a comment that wasn't even a reply to you. Not me. You. You're so insanely triggered by a single comment that you can't simply let it go and keep getting your ass trolled by me who's laughing his ass off at how desperate you're trying to somehow own me. It's so funny how pressed you are by a single comment, but I guess if the shoe fits... Pmod1: You literally came to the thread to start this shit and now trying to turn it on me...is this your new hobby now? From rolling in downvotes for your shit manga takes to arguing with random redditors? I'm honestly getting a kick out of it though so please continue... C2: Omfg, it has been a full weekend and you still can't let go. That's so fucking sad. You really spent the weekend doing fun stuff and then came back here just to be angry again. Please get help. Pmod1: Buddy I just forgot. But it's genuinely sad that you're still going on this after so long. Either get a life or some help. I'm feeling pity for you now. C2: Sure, you "forgot" even though you clearly have notifications on since you replied to a comment that wasn't a reply to you within a minute because it triggered you so much. Look, even if you forgot it's still incredibly sad that you can't just let go and keep coming here just to be wound up by me again. I also don't know why you keep trying to spin this when the whole conversation is publicly readable and it's clear you're incredibly mad while I've already stated that I won't stop because it's fucking funny. It takes me a few minutes at worst to respond and get you to bite while you insist on pretending like you're not actually angry even though everyone knows you are because why else would you even react to my comment like that lmao. Honestly, since you're only replying sporadically with the same "no u" garbage atp, it takes the fun out of it, so I'm just gonna block your ass and hope I'll never come across you again

So C2 in fact does block Pmod1, essentially allowing them to have the last word, right? But in a twist, Pmod1 responds to C2 with another account that is a power mod for 90+ subs:

Pmod-Alt1: Did you really think you can just have the final say and then block me and think this all ends? Well guess not. If it annoys you that much then just stop replying, it's not that deep. But ofcourse it's gonna hurt your male fragile ego because deep inside you're just a scared little boy 🥺 and that's alright. We won't judge you for being so sad, it's not your fault at all buddy. C2: I'm just gonna block that account too, lol. Wonder how many alts you have you pathetic loser Edit: Shit, you can only block once every 24 hours... Well, time to turn off notifs. Stay mad clown Pmod-Alt1: Keep malding. And stop replying back, u just clown on yourself more and make it super embarrassing for yourself. C2: No u

It appears C2 blocks that account, and through Undelete, I can see there were 2 more replies from 2 other accounts, but they were deleted too fast, so this is all you see:

C2: No u Pmod-Alt2: [deleted] Pmod-Alt3: [removed too quickly to be archived]

The content must have been similar to some of the comments in the conversation above, because C2 edits their 'No u' comment twice to call Pmod1 out:

C2: Edit: I'm literally just gonna block all of your accounts you obsessed freak. At least it seems like you've done me a favor by blocking me with your 5th alt since I can't see your reply. No one is buying your "no u" bullshit, which is why I'm making fun of it. I'm just gonna turn off notifs again and block any account of yours I see on sight. Stay mad, loser
Edit 2: What the fuck are you talking about you fucking weirdo?? You chose to engage in this convo. You always could've just stepped away, but you were too mad to do that. It's also crazy how you try to claim that I'm mad when you're the one who replied to a comment that wasn't a reply to you because it got you so triggered and are now scrambling to find your millionth alt just to get another reply in. You're an obsessed freak, basically proving me right just by how you're reacting to all this and all you can come up with is "no u" because you have no rebuttal. Back to blocking and hoping the notif suppression actually works now... Pmod-Alt4: Atleast ur doing both of us a favor and I can finally get rid of your obsession with me. Keep malding while I keep laughing!

Please note that this drama is a few months old, and as far as I can tell, the power mods are still doing their modding thing.

submitted by 2cool4ashe to SubredditDrama [link] [comments]

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