Yeah, it's 2 a.m., and she's out there In the sheer white dress, wearing last night's makeup All coquette-ish in the pictures with the flash on Worships Lana Del Rey in her AirPods, yeah Yeah, she's in her mid-twenties, real intelligent Hedonistic with the gravel, drawl and dead eyes You said she's anorexic and you heard she likes when people say it Think you already know her, but you don't
Yeah, it's 4 a.m., and she's out there With the razor-sharp tongue stuck to skinny cigarettes Calls him Daddy while she's fingering a gold cross And she's kinda fucked up, but she's still in Vogue Yeah, she's in her mid-twenties, real intelligent And you hate the fact she's New York City's darling You said she's problematic and the way you say it, so fanatic Think she already knows that you're obsessed.

Good Day fellow Doctors! M, 28yo guy here. As you can see on the Pictures i posted: I get this blisters / sore throath every 6 - 8 weeks. It starts by having slight pain swallowing and gets worse the next 24-48 hours. Then all these blisters and my throath start having this nice and strong red color. It burns and swallowing and speaking does hurt and i feel pretty weak for the next 2 - 3 days. After that it stops burning though the blisters remain a week longer or something like that but my nose gets all stuffy and running for a few days. The like after a week im finally all good for said 6 - 8 weeks and then it starts all over again. I have this Problem since summer 2017 and im slowly gettin depressed because all Docs around me are just taking a look for 2 seconds and say "aah thats normal go home drink tea and stay in bed". I almost never get sick. This is the only thing i get over and over. Today it start again after just 4 weeks.. 6 months ago i had it non stop for a whole month. (other nice things to know are the white coating on my tongue - the constant tough mucus / slime that runs from my nasal cavity in my throat (that have to swallow almost constanly)
Maybe one or some of ya all know something about this, what helps or even could cure this? (whatever it is)
[ Sorry for some bad grammar or other mistakes :) ]
https://preview.redd.it/rqr5z4h8875d1.jpg?width=1080&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=887c70568e8b55e6541974fea4ad23d2729aec57
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Hi! I am really worried
Yesterday when going to brush my tongue, discovered a white spot in my tongue. It looks kind of like a bleached spot on a red t-shirt. 1) I don’t smoke, never smoked once. 2) Have anemia. 3) I am 30 year old female. 4) Also take Orihiro hondroitin supplements for joints and vitamin b-something 5) Also go to gastroenterologist, recently did a check up just because, found positive helicobacter in blood. She said to me to do a gastroscopy. I wanted to do after exams I am having. 6) Also could be that I have a problem with a teeth and brush teeth with curaprox perioplus and also rinse my mouth with a liquid whose composition is as follows:
Active substance: 10 ml of solution contains: ketoprofen lysine (ketoprofen lysine salt) 160.0 mg. Excipients: Glycerol 85% 2000.0 mg, ethanol 0.5 ml, methyl parahydroxy-sibenzoate 15.0 mg, mint flavor 30.0 mg, levomenthol 7.0 mg, sodium saccharinate 20.0 mg, dye "Verde Certosa" (brilliant green ) 1.6 mg, sodium hydrogen phosphate to pH 6.0-6.5, purified water to 10 ml.
and for the last couple of days I have been making a rather concentrated version, not the one that was recommended. I think it might be a burn from the liquid. I rinsed for a minute usually, a couple times a day
Should I be worried?
https://imgur.com/a/LcvisWa

Reviewed June 6th, 2024.
Total Score: 4.75
Appearance: 4.5. A beautiful, completely crystal clear absinthe. There are jewel-like refractions of light, giving this water clear spirit a very light kiss of blue. Absolutely stunning.
Louche: 5. Mesmerizing. Although I’ve been using a carafe, the louche is drop-dead gorgeous. Pouring the water in slowly gives trails, wisps, and traces of the water’s movement. As it begins to louche at about 1:1.5, a gorgeous barely-blue cloud grows in the spirit, taking it over by 1:2.5. Stopping at a 1:4, the spirit is a perfect milky white, with hints of blue at the top, with the characteristic Amber in the narrower part of my wine glass. Truly amazing. The room also filled with a gorgeous herbal scent.
Aroma: 4.5 Incredibly soft and complex, in the same vain as the louche. I get the sweet-ish scents of anise and fennel, and the clean floral smell of wormwood, but there’s a slight spice I can’t put my finger on. It’s an inviting perfume-like scent. I can’t seem to stop sniffing the glass.
FlavoMouthfeel: 5 Good god, this is delectable. If I could find a bigger bottle, I’d buy two; it’s that good. The holy trinity is present in a perfect balance of the three. They aren’t climbing over one another to try and make their presence known. The added botanicals give it interesting, complex notes for me to decode. La Clandestine’s flavor is a real treat. Mouthfeel is perfect. Goldilocks range, not too thin, not too thick, just right.
Finish: 5 Absolutely exceptional, surpassed my preconceptions by miles. My palate and tongue had a pleasant slight numbness for at least a half hour after drinking a glass. This is by far the best finish for an absinthe I’ve tried up to this point. Full bodied, tongue coating, and elegant in how it lingers. Simply bliss.
Overall: 4.5 La Clandestine, being my first Blanche, absolutely exceeded all of my expectations. I find every single part of this product to be exceptional. Neat appearance is like pouring liquid diamonds. The louche is the best I’ve seen yet. Aroma is soft, floral, spicy, and sultry. This fairy’s flavor and mouthfeel mirrors the aroma’s profile nearly to a tee. Its finish almost made me pour another glass, but then I smacked myself since I’ve only got a 200ml bottle of it that I cracked open for this review. I’m certainly saving this Blanche for a real special occasion.
Santé mes amis!
Taygan

"I, Alpha Fredrick Hardinson of Silver Moon Pack, reject you Amaris Persephone Montgomery, for I refuse to accept the Moon Goddess' decision." He trailed off, leaving me shocked. This was actually happening? I stared at Fredrick' eyes after his rejection. Murmurs died down into small whispers to none. No one dared to say a word because of the tension. I loathe them. Both of them. Lotus is still sobbing. Girls who once admired me piled up to her side, soothing her as they give me a hateful glance now and then. Those are once my friends. Funny how they switched places almost immediately without even sympathizing about my situation. Fredrick shifted in front of me and I saw all the emotions from his eyes. The mate bond pulled harder and I was starting to lose my grip into shifting when he broke the silence and looked away. "Well Mr. I am a daughter of a Beta! You will have to respect me." I lifted my head and boasted. "Well Ms. Daughter of a Beta. I will give you my full respect." He replied and gave me a flower. That is a brief memory of the day we first met. I was 7, and he was 11. I didn't even know that he was the third-in-line on being the Alpha. We've been best friends since, until we confessed that we like each other. He was my best friend. He would usually come to play with me, even after being bruised by his brothers. And then he'll confess about what happened and I was always there, consoling him until his cries would turn to whimpers, and his whimpers would turn to laughter. Because I would always tell him a joke to make him smile. I'd give him flowers I worked hard to get even after being pricked by its thorns. I'd tickle him after crying so he wouldn't think too much about what happened. At night, I would always pray to the Moon Goddess to give him a happy life. A happy and more carefree life. And maybe that can happen. But it has to happen without me in it. "Take her away." He said and walked towards the still crying and pregnant Lotus. I always wanted his love.Just his love. "Fredrick! Let's marry each other when I turn ten!" "Amaris. We can't marry when you turn ten! We have to find our mates." But I think I have given enough. "I don't want a mate! I want to marry you!" More than what I was given. "Would you be happy if you marry me?" "Yes of course! More than anyone in the whole wide world!" and maybe it's time for me to stop. I love you, Fredrick!but I give up.
"I am advancing your banishment ceremony tonight. We can't have you in here frightening anyone anymore. What a disgrace." He said with spite in his tone. I looked down but remembered what I have to do to end my side of pain. "Wait, Fredrick!" I shouted and he stopped in this tracks as the Lotus's cries emerged once again. Fredrick is carrying her in his arms out of the dungeon. Goddess, what a bitch. "I…I mean, Alpha. I wish to speak a word, please." I said, remembering how he snapped the last soldier's neck earlier and took the throne. Lotus was thrashing in his arms, wanting to get out together with him. She already got everyone perfectly, is she threatened in a few minute conversation I want to have with Fredrick? Now I am starting to question the Moon Goddess' decisions of fate. Good thing I don't believe in those. Fredrick sighed and kissed her forehead as he passed her to one of the knights, ordering them to safely return Lotus to the pack house. When they were gone, Fredrick sighed as if he's frustrated and looked at me. We stare at each other for a whole minute, savoring how the mate bond between us thumped at the distance. "What is it, Amaris?" He said, breaking the silence. I forced all the words that want to come out together with the tears that are threatening to come out. I want to shout at him. To ask him how he just chose my best friend over me in the course of nine months. We've been together for more than ten years. I don't think that kind of friendship could be torn with those months. More over, he just impregnated Lotus, while here I was, dumbfounded and anticipating their arrival. Before I knew it, a tear slipped from my eyes. I was standing now, these bar separating the both of us. I'm glad it did, I don't know I can control my self if there's no barrier between us. I want to hug him good bye. I want to kiss him for the last time, not because he was my boyfriend for one, but because he was the man I loved and cherished for more than a decade. I always wanted him to be happy. I clenched my hand at my side, as another tear fell from my eyes. I looked down to wipe it, refusing to let him see how he's affecting me. I lifted my head and looked at him in the eyes. Those orbs I once loved are staring at me with anger, but I knew there was guilt in it. At least that's what I want to think. "I will accept your rejection." Right then and there, I saw how his eyes flinched as he said, "what?". His eyes are filled with confusion but I know he know what I mean. He knows how I want to give up. He gave up on me first, though. "I said I want to accept it." I repeated and he didn't flinch but his eyes shown a small emotion. Love? Anger? Guilt? Regret? I can't decipher, but what I know is that, it's too late for all of that now. "Then accept it."
Good bye Fredrick. I slept with that position until the darkness of the night filled the sky. It was the banishment ceremony. Everyone was busy. I heard the whispering and screams again that made me scoot on the wall even more. I looked up as two guards entered my cell, pulling me up on ground as they tie my hands behind me and pushed me outside. I walked out of the dungeon gates feeling the night wind brush my face. Everyone was waiting on the field. We made our way as through the pile of people who started murmuring spiteful things. I let those go through one ear to the other and stood beside Fredrick on the stage-like platform. Everyone was silent now. Fredrick cleared his throat and mentioned my crimes, including the one that involves me frightening Lotus, and that I planned to kill their child my distressing the mother. I bet Lotus forced him to mention that in front of everyone. It wasn't even that big of a deal. When he finished with his speech and looked at me. "Amaris Persephone Montgomery, once you stepped out of those barriers, you are not allowed to enter without the highest authority. Your banishment will last for your lifetime." He said with finality, without a hint of emotion in his voice. I guess he got over the mate bond faster than I thought. "As the Alpha of the Silver Light Pack, I order yoh to walk off the barrier." He said the last line as I glanced over at Lotus, she's still smirking, I didn't 't pay her any attention as I turned my back and walked towards the pack barrier. I was infront of it and the silver gleamed as a wall. I stepped out and all the pack mind link snapped as if I broke free of any connection tied on this pack. Without looking back, I broke the tie with my werewolf strength and shifted into my white wolf and ran off. I was free. For hours, I ran and ran that I lost track of time. My wolf never felt this nice. I opened the pack link between us. It was my first time removing the wall right after yesterday, when she felt the mate bond. "Amaris! You better pay me back after blocking me like that!" My wolf, Eris said, pissed. But I know she also felt the freedom. I chuckled and gave her control as she ran off. I wonder how she handled the mate bond breaking. I know wolves feel it better when their mates are taken away from them. "Don't feel bad. I felt suffocated with the mate bond too, anyway." I was surprised as her response. I mentally nodded and smiled. That's the wolf in me. Feisty. We ran all day till we were hungry enough to stop. We hunted a deer and I stayed in my wolf form until night came again. So far, I was far away from the human city and didn't encounter anything. I was deep in the forest, infact, too deep that I think I got lost. Ironic because I am free, not lost. There was no home so I shouldn't be feeling this way. My wolf ran deep in the woods as she was still enjoying the forest, embracing her control. She suddenly saw this butterfly and ran deeper, following the flying blue bug. Her tongue was out as she was playing when she suddenly got too far. Far because a big wolf was suddenly right in front of us. I immediately told her to stay and let me have the control back, she snarled at the brown werewolf before giving in at my request. I smelled the intruder right in front of me and noticed the foul smell. A rogue. Well, I am a rogue too. He lunged towards me and I immediately dodged and bit his knee, chunking out a few flesh. He growled and dived at my side, sinking his teeth. I whimpered and realized that I can't really fight him, considering that I'm dead tired from running for over two days. Maybe I can outrun him. I immediately sprinted deeper into the misty woods with the big brown wolf was hot on my trail. I tried to mask my scent and galloped around the trees perfectly. I may not have the best fighting skills, but atleast I'm fast. His four paws was probably giving in at its tiredness. When he was completely out of range, I still ran, until I felt a wall. A golden barrier. I entered a pack, not just any pack. A powerful one. Considering the gleaming golden barrier, far different from my pack that's silver. Gold wall is the highest rank of pack amongst werewolf kinds. I took a step back but was confronted by five werewolves. Big ones. Far bigger than the rouge I was trying to outrun earlier. I felt the surge of power running on the male in the middle, as he shifted into his human form. His gaze was so powerful, I started to quiver and took a step back. He took the short the wolf behind him handed and wore it. He stepped further towards me and I took a step back once again. He's a Gamma. A fucking Gamma. And a powerful one at that. I whimpered and bowed my head, showing him my submission. "Shift," he ordered."Shift and tell us what are you doing in the Blood Moon Pack." My mouth dropped and I knew I'm better off killing myself than staying here. Because I'm at the ground of Blood Moon Pack. The Alpha King's territory!

I used chatgpt to analyze the results, the higher levels of the bacteria aren't meant to be too bad, but can those that know more maybe suggest what to do next?
I'm not sure what my breath is life, I just have the tongue coating which doesn't actually disappear with the castille soap and baking powder. (it does help it for sure though)
My main concern is just my tongue and the greyness of it, and the fact it's almost like a cat's tongue in appearance sometimes! Especially when tongue scraping, looking at the texture of the tongue it's quite white and spiky, very odd. Along with the tastebuds at the back being highly raised (the large ones)
I can post an image if necessary
https://preview.redd.it/3rqml269g65d1.png?width=861&format=png&auto=webp&s=92cf8b11914e2fd335f1b324c3f8960d3f683e23
https://preview.redd.it/oelk6997g65d1.png?width=758&format=png&auto=webp&s=6fa5900bbe98147f0a625b22509a62657320f13b

 I never thought I would find myself needing to recount the events that transpired during my childhood. 

When the idea of typing this came about, I didn’t think I would even be able to find the words to describe them. However, maybe due to recent contact with the government, the memories I had long buried in the dusty recesses of my memory have dug themselves up and crawled back into the light of my mind’s eye in vivid detail. Now that I am free to speak, and now that I have summoned the courage to, my message to you, especially the parents among you is this, do not leave your children at Sunny Smiles Daycare.
I was about 4 when my parents divorced. It was a long, arduous process, full of broken promises and uncomfortable truths. My mother had left a year prior, off to Vegas to be with her lover who would fly over on weekends and destroy my parent’s of holy matrimony. It took quite a toll on my father. He was never very present in the going on of my life, and while he tried, an awkwardness had formed between us, a chasm that made it difficult to do much of anything. It was ever present, both of us trying to cope with the tender void left in the wake of my mother.
We tried to fill it with each other, but our relationship wasn’t strong enough to bear the weight of my mom’s departure. Adding on to this was that most of the day he was gone, working to keep the roof we had over our heads. He hired a slew of nannies to fill the empty days his job made, but I always complained about them. I felt like a stranger in my own life, with people I didn’t know making themselves at home in the house that felt foreign to me now. I really just wanted my mom and dad back, for them to come together, forgive each other in a heartfelt bout of passion, and make time for me in their lives again. But as a child, I quickly learned to stifle my hopes and stopped believing in such silly fairy tales.
My father felt guilty about the whole thing, I could see it in his eyes. Even back then I knew the look of someone trying their best and failing. It was the look my mother gave me every time she came home late on a Saturday night, a crestfallen look of disappointment in not me or my father, but herself. She had promised me that everything would be okay, that the fighting wasn’t anything but grown-up talk. “A family,” she said, “always stays together”. But soon, all I got was promises that didn’t lead anywhere. The two of them made so many promises that if they were worth anything, I’d have been the richest kid in the world.
But all I got was a trip to a daycare, a way for my father to remedy this guilt, to distance himself from the reminder of all the promises he had failed to keep.
According to his searches from the time, he stumbled upon Sunny Smiles Daycare in his search, seeing it was new, very close by. It had only been open for a month and had nothing but five star reviews, with no justification as to the rating under any of the comments. When looking at their website, it is described as a “government owned amenity here to serve families in need. We are expanding everyday, and with the help of certain patrons we have expanded to the national level”. According to the FBI, whom which I have spoken to at length about my experiences, no federal or state funds from any agency were allocated to construct a national daycare system. However, there is documentation from congressional records of a meeting of the Committee of Education and the Workforce passing an anonymous bill into Congress to be voted on. When interviewed, none of the members of the committee recalled voting on such a bill, and no record of whether the bill was ratified or not was found.
One night, my father called for me from the ground floor. I cautiously maneuvered down the long, spiral stairs, gripping tightly onto the railing so as not to tumble down the treacherous staircase, my fear of heights taking hold even at such a young age. As I rounded the stairs, I saw my father standing in the living room, hands on his hips, tapping his foot rapidly. He had come home in a gray suit, tailored to his filled out build, with neat, dark hair combed over to hide his large, reflective forehead. As I completed my descent, my father turned to me, a smile so wide that the strain was practically audible on his face. I didn’t think much of it then, if anything I was happy that my father finally showed me something other than his inner struggles.
“Hey buddy, guess what we are gonna do tomorrow?” he said, his smile practically bursting out of his face.
“What?” I asked, his excited expression acting as a pathogen of enthusiasm.
“Tomorrow, you're going to go to a new place. It’s called Sunny Smiles Daycare. It’s a place where you can make tons of new friends. Isn’t that exciting?” he led me on in the way that parents do. I was confused.
“Sunny Smiles Daycare,” I repeated hollowly, spitting the words out due to their funny taste in my mouth.
“Will you come with me?” I asked tentatively, bracing for disappointment.
“No buddy, they don’t let grown-ups like me in. It’s just for you kids. But hey, I bet you're gonna have so much fun that you’ll forget all about me. I bet you won’t even want to leave,” he promised, trying to redirect the impact of his answer. I had heard the same speech often. Every time he laid down some shiny new thing at my feet, hoping to placate me with sacrifices like I was some bloodthirsty deity, he tried to convince me that this time, the hole bored into my heart would finally be filled with this cheap, flashy toy. And for the most part, I went along with it, both to find salvation in something frivolous and to ease my father’s own guilty demons. And this was no different. In as excited a voice I could muster I replied “I can’t wait!” The smile he wore shrunk a bit, but in turn, it looked much less plastic, and more real, a warmth returning to his features.
“I’m glad little man. You hungry?” I nodded vigorously.
“Great, what do ya want?”
“Dino nuggets,” my favorite.
My father nodded, before rushing off to the kitchen in order to prepare a gourmet serving of dino nuggets. I followed, clumsily running to catch up to him, desperate for the warmth of his smile once more.
“How your day go?” I asked rather clumsily. I had learned the basic abcs and enough words to speak, but the construction of sentences was something I had struggled with. I rarely talked at all and didn’t get many chances to do so.
“It was great, bud! I talked to a lady at the daycare we are gonna go to tomorrow, and she said they have over 50 kids there! They’ve got coloring books and dollies and even a playground inside! They’ve got books and paint an-” I started to tune out. He was still trying to sell me on the whole daycare thing. That was all he talked about the rest of the night, describing every detail of the place to me. Looking back, even then, I felt a deep sense of restlessness each time he mentioned the name of the place. The feeling only grew more exacerbated the longer the night went on, chasing away sweet thoughts of sleep. Some of it was nerves, going from 1 stranger a day to 50 was certainly a big leap. But part of it was something I can’t explain in any other way than a premonition, a warning from a natural instinct that laid long dormant in me came screaming to the surface. I did not sleep well that night. The morning of, my father woke me up early, saying that he needed to get to work, but would drop me off at the daycare on the way. I obliged, changing out of my Lightning McQueen onesie into tiny jeans and a brown and white striped shirt with a large smiling monkey face on the front. Monkeys were my favorite animal, mainly because they liked bananas just as much as I did. I did my daily duties of brushing my teeth, and messing around with my hair until I was happy with the ratty mess I had made. I once again fearfully journeyed down the stairs. My dad was tapping his foot at the bottom of the stairs, annoyance instead of excitement being the cause.
“Come on bud, we gotta get going or I’m gonna be late,”. he says, as if his meaningless deadline would incentivize me to overcome my fear and move faster.
I reach the bottom step, where my dad promptly scoops me up in his arms, and with his briefcase and a backpack in hand, we speed out of the house. We fly down the stairs leading down from the large wooden porch, my father gripping onto the black metal railing so as not to slip on the cliff-like stairs. He snaked through the cobblestone pathway that led from our stairs to the driveway. Both were in rough condition. Crabgrass riddled the grooves in the path, and the asphalt had long, outstretched cracks that had formed due to the roots of a nearby sycamore tree undermining the pavement. The lawn was an unkempt jungle of overgrown grass, weeds, dandelions, and mushrooms. Dad used to mow it once a week in the summer, but the habit had fallen off in the past year.
Dad threw open the back door of the red minivan, and quickly strapped me into the ragged, stained car seat. He clumsily struggled with the seatbelt, his inexperience with morning procedures on full display. He finally resigned himself, tying the belt straps together into a tight knot that compressed harshly on my chest. I remember my breathing being shallow during the majority of the ride. With me secured, he threw the backpack over next to me, closed the door, and got in the front seat.
“Dad, I don’t go,” I said. “I don’t like,”
“Why buddy? We haven’t even gotten there yet,” Dad asked, his voice rising in pitch, as he started the ignition.
“I don’t like,” I repeated, louder and firmer this time.
“Why don’t you just give it a few days, just two or three days, and if you truly hate it, then we’ll find a different place okay sweetie?” He asked, forcing his voice to smooth out, as we turned out of our bumpy driveway and started off. There wasn’t much I could do after that. He did not respond well to temper tantrums, and I knew that it would not end well for either of us if I started yelling. He was too jumpy, and didn’t have the long fuse constructed over many long nights of staying awake with your kid.
Once, I dropped a glass of orange juice. The glass shattered in a loud crackle, like thunder mixed with pop rocks, and they scattered away from the initial blast, in fear of the storm that was barreling down the stairs.
“What happened?!” my father yelled as he stomped through the house. I realize now that his shouting was out of concern more than anger, but as a child, it’s hard to tell the difference when someone is screaming at you. I looked up at him, fat watery tears streaming down my face as I bawled loudly, practically shouting myself.
My dad grabbed a handful of paper towels, and started roughly padding my fuzzy blue shirt.
“Are you hurt?” he yelled again, voice wavering. This only made my cries louder, bordering on hysterical now as I continued to blubber.
My dad grunted in strained frustration. He combed his hair frantically, eyes darting around wildly, completely overwhelmed by the scene before him. Unable to take my wailing any longer he leaned down, grabbed me by the arm, and shook me violently.
“Are you hurt!” He screamed, shocking me into silence.
I stood stunned. My dad quickly removed his hands from me, purple bruises welding up along my arms like bad tattoos.
“I’m sorry bud, I thought you were hurt and you wouldn’t answer me and I… I’m sorry. I’m sorry,”. It was all he could say. I made sure not to scream or cry around him from then on.
We drove for about 10 minutes, before a large, pastel building of soft blues, yellows, and greens came into view. I knew about 5 minutes before it came into view where it was, my face retracting further into the car seat, as if bracing for a bomb to fall.
It was a massive building. The front looked normal enough, a box almost entirely made of windows aside from the wiry wooden frame separating them, and the large fluorescent red door surrounded by a black wooden outline. This was partially obscured by large red brick pillars that held up a concrete awning. Behind that, stood a massive dome, like an igloo made out of yellow snow. Sun patterns covered the dome-like orange polka dots.
The building unnerved me. Something about it wasn’t quite right, like my father’s own strained smile. It looked like it was trying too hard, trying to look like what all parents wanted to see when they dropped their kids off.
“See?” My father said from the front seat, fake excitement dripping from his voice.
“It looks so fun!” he said. He was fishing for an enthusiastic response, but all I could muster was quiet indifference.
We turned into the lot, navigating through the crowded rows of cars, parked haphazardly. Every spot was filled. A long line of cars slowly advanced next to the concrete curve, advancing toward the dropping-off points. Other cars, though, stopped where they were, and removed their kid from the car seat. Some didn’t even have them in car seats, and simply stopped while the kids got out themselves. The kids looked scared, sad, and hurt, the latter of which I could identify with. It was the look I often felt myself giving when I was being forgotten or I was alone. The former two, I would soon come to know quite well.
As soon as the door closed, the car would speed out from the line and out of the lot. Even strangers were kids who walked from the parking lot. These kids all had filth-splotched faces, torn-up rags for clothes, thin hair, and hollow eyes. They walked slowly, without regard for the honking cars and disapproving looks from parents who had almost hit them. They didn’t even look up as they filed into the daycare. My dad chimed in.
“Oh poor kids. How can a parent watch their child go out into the world like that? Is no one feeding them?” He muttered under his breath in an angry tone. He hated seeing the cries of those who were suffering go unanswered, especially children. It was why he became a doctor.
The cars slowly moved, dropping their kids off one by one, some making more of a ceremony of it than others. Stifled tears, verklempt looks, and the all too familiar fake smiles were all congregated at the entrance to the daycare. Guardian to said entrance stood two women, garbed in an all-white dress, apron, and gloves with silver hair and peculiar white hats. It looked like one of those paper hats kids made, but it was made of cloth and like her, stood at stiff attention and bore an opaque smiling face. They were surrounded by a flock of frantic parents, each desperately commanding their attention with little facts about their special angle. Allergies, snack preferences, and in the case of some, medication were all conveyed with deathly urgency. Dad stopped the car, turning to me and smiling. Not an insincere one, but one of sympathy and comfort.
“It’s gonna be okay sweetie. I know this has all been so much for you, so thank you for being so brave with me,” he promised. I smiled back in turn, meaning it this time.
He then exited the car, came around to the backseat, and untied me from the car seat. He grabbed the backpack and carried me over to the cement awning that shaded the walkway.
He carried me over to the two ladies, past the line of fellow downtrodden children, and dropped me a few feet away from the crowd of squawking parents.
“Hold on just a second now sweetie, I’ll be right back,” he said. I stood awkwardly, trying as much as I possibly could to fold into myself as the limp bodies of my peers stumbled past me, all light-looking to have long left their eyes. One was different though. A young girl in a pink and red polka-dotted dress with an accompanying bow in her soft ginger hair to match. She was holding a small, beaten-up brown patchwork teddy bear with its left eye missing. The back of it was torn open, stuffing flopping out of it. Around her neck was a collar of raspy, raw skin, like some wild animal had tried to tear out her jugular with its claws. She had pretty green eyes which continued to glance at me as she passed. Right before she went through the red door, she hesitated, turned around, and quickly waddled over to me. She placed her face incredibly close to me, and I recoiled out of shock. I could still make out her whispers though, “When they ask, don’t tell,”.She quickly turned away, glancing back at me with worried eyes. I looked after her, confused and more scared than before. As my eyes wandered, I looked up to one of the women answering parental questions, and she continued to do so. However, her eyes were transfixed to the polka-dot girl, and once she entered the daycare, they shifted to me. It was what I could only describe as a friendly stare, or at least, one that appeared to be. She looked like she was sizing me up. I held her gaze for only a second, and wished I hadn’t even done that. I commanded my eyes to look anywhere, anywhere but the woman’s shriveled, pit-like eyes that begged for my attention. My eyes traced out the outline of the red door, slowly taking in each groove and scratch that thick coats of paint weren’t able to cover. As I looked above the red gate, I was greeted with words scrawled at the top in shaky black letters. I didn’t know what I said then, but looking back I do now. They read “Welcome to Home”.
“Calvin, come here!” my dad said, snapping me out of my awkward stare. I shuffled over to my dad, reaching out and clinging to his arm. Both of the silver-haired women turned to look at me, moving through the crowd of parents with polite “excuse me’s” and “let us pass for a moment’s”, all while not taking their eyes off of me. They strode over to my dad, one addressing my dad and the other bending down to my level, still staring at me. She bent perfectly straight at the hips, but went down no further, her face mere millimeters from mine. I shrunk closer to my father, who was seemingly too preoccupied talking about my peanut allergy to notice the creepy woman staring at his kid.
“What is your name?” She asked. I pressed even further away from her due to her voice, which scratched at my ears like sandpaper. I remembered what the polka-dot girl said, and did everything in my power to not give her an answer, instead tugging on Dad’s pant leg, pleading for his attention.
“What is your name?” She probed again, this time her voice only a supple whisper. I almost couldn’t stop myself as my name rushed up my throat like hot vomit I needed to choke back. It was like she had reached her hand into my brain and was massaging it, hoping to coax out an answer. I knew she knew already, she had heard my dad call it only a few moments ago. But she wanted me to say it, to hear the word escape my lips. I was afraid to speak at all because if I did, I knew my name would come out. I didn’t even know what would happen, but the visceral fear I had of what might happen kept my lips sewn shut.
I tugged more and more desperately on my father’s leg, but he didn’t even look at me. He was still talking to the silver woman about who knows what. Who knows what he was telling her?
“What is your name?” the lady asked again, this time grabbing my hand and squeezing it. I tried to yank my hand away, but her grip was vice-like. She clamped down hard, I was sure a bruise would form. Looking back now, she likely knew that out of what she could do then, that would hurt the most. My eyes darted around, my brain overwhelmed by a gut-wrenching fear that poured into me from the woman’s touch. It was so cold I couldn’t feel my arm anymore, and the numbing sensation was spreading quickly. I looked for anyone, any adult who could see what was happening and put a stop to it, but everyone seemed to be conveniently occupied with something else. Time seemed to slow down and warp, leaving just me and the woman in our pocket of isolation. Voices faded out into warped chirping. I couldn’t tell you what they were saying, but with every passing moment, they got louder and louder. Numbing fear spread all throughout my body, reaching up and crawling into my mouth and swelling my tongue, pushing back the scream that was clawing its way up my throat. My eyes began to go numb, and the tears that welled up froze over my eyes blocking my vision. They were being squeezed like oranges being juiced. My arms and legs froze and turned weak, brittle enough that a gust of wind would shatter them. Slowly, I could sense my heartbeat getting slower and slower.
“You ready buddy?” My father’s coarse hand tapped my shoulder, and the glass bubble of nightmares that surrounded me and that woman shattered. Time came roaring back and all the pressure inflicted on my feeble body vanished, and the woman hastily stood up. Tears sprung free from their icy barrier as I turned to my father and looked up.
“Hey, woah, buddy what’s wrong? What’s going on?” he bent down to me, clumsily wiping away my tears. All I could do was shake my head vigorously, lips still quivering. I tried to speak but I knew the woman was still staring at me. I could feel her gaze honed in on the back of my head like a laser. As long as her eyes were fixed on me, I didn’t dare speak. Even now, I feel dizzy, my name on the tip of my tongue.
“We see this type of display daily. Children and caretakers alike are so rarely prepared to be separate. It’s an emotional moment, but we have found that adversity only ends in growth and prosperity for the pair” one of the women says, a sugary sweetness now oozing from her demeanor.
“Don’t worry buddy, your guardian will be back, and while he is attending to his duties, you will have the honor of being a part of our family,” the other silver-haired woman says, turning to me with a toothy grin. Most of her words were too big for me to understand. Though, I doubt I would need to hear her speak to understand. The stares they would give us were all we needed to know what they were saying, and yet they still put us through the torture of their scratchy speech.
“We are extremely excited to meet you!” the pair said in unison.
“You sure you're okay, bud?” Dad asked again, still not convinced. With both of them looking at me now, there was no way I was saying anything. I sent a pleading look to my dad, hoping that my covert correspondence wouldn’t go unnoticed. But apparently, my own father didn’t know me well enough to see how shaken I really was. He gave me a final look of sorry, before he bent down, gave me a tight hug, stood up, and handed me the backpack. Then he began to depart
“Listen buddy I’ll see you tonight. I put all your favorite stuff in that bag okay? I love you so much.” His voice wavered a bit, coughing a bit to try and regain composure. He looked at me, torn, between what he wanted to believe and what he could see. All I could do was stand there and watch my father throw his only son to the wolves. He walked back to the car, buckled in, and gave me a final look of a wide smile with conflicting, tear-soaked eyes, before exiting the line of cars and driving off.
An overwhelming wave of dread washed over me as I watched my lifeline drift away. Questions raced through my head, “When would he come back? Would he forget to come? How long can I not say my name for?”
I could feel them loom over me, like unwanted shadows creeping through the night.
“Come, it is time for you to enter,” the lady said, the sweetness now draining from her voice and face. A reproachful look now adorned her face. She stiffly pointed to the door, likely knowing that the meaning of her words was lost on me. I turned and made my way into the line of children still marching towards the gateway, dragging my feet. The gate itself seemed to pull me closer like death reaching its hand out from a coffin. The two ladies returned to their posts beside the door, dutifully tending to the needs of apprehensive parents. They made a last call, saying “All parents must deposit their offspring to the daycare. Activities are about to begin”.

,, And I saw and heard the voice of many angels around the throne and animals and elders, and their number was thousands of thousands. Speaking with a loud voice: Worthy is the Lamb slain to receive power and riches and wisdom and strength and honor and glory and blessing. And every creature that is in heaven, and on earth, and under the earth, and that is in the sea, and that is in them, I heard them all saying: To him who sits on the throne, and to the Lamb, blessing and honor and glory and your kingdom century century. And the four animals spoke: Amen. And the twenty-four elders fell down and worshiped Him who lives forever and ever."
Rev. 5:11-14
When the Church sings this song and before Christ opens the book with seven seals, angels, living beings, elders and the Church of Christ join in the celebration:
,, And I saw and heard the voice of many angels around the throne and animals and elders, and their number was thousands of thousands. Speaking with a loud voice: Worthy is the Lamb slain to receive power and riches and wisdom and strength and honor and glory and blessing."
We read here that angels do not sing but speak which does not mean that they do not sing because it says:
"When the morning stars sang together and all the sons of God clicked."
Job 38:7
Angels here join the glorified and confirm Christ's dignity, "Worthy is the Lamb slain to receive power and wealth and wisdom and strength and honor and glory and blessing." This scene was also seen by the prophet Daniel, who describes the event as follows:
"I watched until the throne was set up, and the old man sat, on which was a garment as white as snow, and the hair on his head was like pure wool, His throne was like a flame of fire, His wheels were like a burning fire. A river of fire came out and flowed before Him, thousands of thousands served Him, and ten thousand by ten thousand stood before Him; the court sat, and the books were opened."
Daniel 7:9-10
"Worthy is the Lamb slain to receive power" After the resurrection, Jesus said:
"All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me."
Matt. 28:18
So Jesus is worthy to have all authority because He is the Creator and He is the one who maintains and controls everything, He has authority over Satan, death, the world and sin and that is why Jesus can break the seals and judgment on the earth can begin.
,, and wealth and wisdom and strength and honor and glory and blessing. " Jesus is worthy to receive the wealth that belongs to him because he writes:
"For you know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ that, being rich, He became poor for your sake, so that you may become rich through His poverty."
2 Cor.8:9
also says:
"The silver is mine and the gold is mine, says the Lord of hosts."
Haggai 2:8
,,...who gives us everything abundantly for our enjoyment;"
1 Tim.6:17
Now, as the rightful heir, Jesus receives the inheritance that belongs to him, and together with Him, we also receive blessings as co-heirs, and that is why we will be kings on earth.
"And make us kings and priests to God and your Father"
Rev. 1:6
Jesus as God has all wisdom, but He humbled Himself so much, incarnated in a man, that He did not have the wisdom to say the day of His coming:
"And about that day or hour no one knows, not even the angels who are in heaven, not even the Son, but the Father."
Mark 12:32
but the day is coming when Jesus will again become King and pure wisdom:
"From whom are you in Christ Jesus, who became for us wisdom from God and justice and sanctification and deliverance"
1 Cor.1:30
"and strength and honor" We read what he writes when he comes to reign:
"Who is that king of glory?" The Lord is strong and mighty, the Lord is mighty in battle."
Psalm 24:8
Today, Satan is the strongest on earth, but Jesus is much stronger than him and only He is able to bind him
"And he caught the dragon, the old serpent, which is the devil and Satan, and bound him for a thousand years."
Rev. 20:2
A large number of people today desecrate Christ and His name, but only He is worthy of the honor that belongs only to God:
"Lord, our Lord! How glorious is Your name throughout the earth! You have raised your glory to the highest heavens. In the mouths of little and nursing children you praise yourself in the face of your enemies, to silence the enemy and the restless. When I look at Your heavens, the work of Your finger, the moon and the stars, which You have set; What is man, and you admonish him, or the son of man, and you follow him? You made him a little less than an angel, with glory and honor you married him; You made him lord over the works of your hands, you put everything under his feet, Sheep and oxen all, and wild beasts, Birds of the sky and fish of the sea, whatever goes on the sea roads. Lord, our Lord! How glorious is Your name in all the earth!"
Psalm 8:1-9
"And we see Jesus reduced to the smallest of angels, who was married to glory and honor for what he endured, so that by the grace of God he would taste death for all."
Hebrews 2:9
All honor belongs to Jesus, both by service and by nature, and He is the redeemer, but also the Holy and Just God, therefore He is worthy to receive the glory because all the glory belongs to Him. All we have from Him is:
"What do you have that you didn't receive?" And if you received it, why are you boasting as if you didn't receive it?"
1 Cor. 4:7
People brag about everything and anything and they don't seek the glory of God and that's why they don't believe in God because they have kicked him out of their thoughts and lives, they can do everything by themselves and they don't need anyone, but if they don't understand it now, they will understand it one day, but it will be too late.
"How can you believe when you receive glory from one another, and you do not seek the glory that is from the only God?"
John 5:44
Jesus advises through the apostle Paul:
"Whoever boasts, let him boast in the Lord."
1 Cor.1:31
And finally, Jesus is worthy to receive a blessing and this is very strange because what can we as God's creatures give to God without Him having it or needing it, but the Bible says:
"Bless, my soul, the Lord, and all that is in me is His holy name."
Bless the Lord, my soul, and do not forget any good thing he has done for you"
Psalm 103:1-2
In other words, Christ is "blessed and happy" when we do not forget a single good thing that he gave us or did for us, when we speak well of him, when we trust him, when we spread his word and when we live according to his will. One day it will be special,, happy" when he will subjugate everything under His feet, when there will be no more sin and iniquity, when justice, truth, peace and joy will reign, then every creature will praise him
"And every creature that is in heaven, and on earth, and under the earth, and that is in the sea, and that is in them, I heard them all saying: To him that sitteth on the throne, and to the Lamb be blessing and honor and glory and the state of the century."
Therefore, everyone will have to bow down, believers and unbelievers, angels and demons, "everyone" means everyone without exception
because only Jesus is worthy and all glory, honor and praise belongs to Him alone.
"That in the name of Jesus every knee of those in heaven and on earth and under the earth should bow; And every tongue to confess that the Lord Jesus Christ is to the glory of God the Father"
Philip. 2:10-11

Possible accidental spoilers throughout. Some more discussion below the book list.

Some thoughts while reading given up top, my list/order for HH is included for anyone interested in replicating, followed by my current plan forward that I'd like help with, and I've included the descriptions I was given so you can get a feel for what each one is about.
Since the start of the year I powered through most of the HH trying to cover the main story branches.
I really enjoyed the books from the get go and had not expected to as I'm not a big fiction reader. I only had a handful that were just less enjoyable. Nothing overly bad. It really cemented my love of the Ultramarine's.
I also think actually reading the books has done a lot to illustrate how few people HAVE actually read the Lore. Particularly even innocuous things like Land and the "Land Raider" which is clearly played for laughs in-Universe and actually mirrors the naming of Tanks (look it up) but always gets brought up as something super dumb.
I felt like the Emperor is also much more sympathetic than most give credit for and are largely assessing him on grounds of real world ethics rather than those described and the situations the characters find themselves in.
I found the Dark Angels VERY irritating which I think is maybe a controversial view but every one of their narratives felt like "Oh no! The consequences of my actions! Whose fault are these?!?!"
HH in particularly also kind of blows the whole "it's satire" thing out the water. This is a VERY archetypal good vs evil story. Try as you might to avoid it, you're going to make Chaos look Bad and order look good. And they do not try to avoid it. That's not to say that everything the Imperium does is right by a long shot. But it's hard to come away thinking "good people on both sides". ADB gives I think one of the most disturbing accounts of Chaos and I don't see how anyone could read it and think "good guys" (not a crit of people who enjoy the factions/characters etc):
From Echoes of Eternity, inside a Warhound Titan walking towards the final battle on Terra:
Her eyes always slid away from the things the moment she tried to look at them. As soon as she looked away, she forgot they were there. The horde had the numbers to bring about the war’s end, while the defenders only possessed the numbers to delay it – but the losses were going to be grotesque. Ulienne didn’t want to die for the Emperor’s stubbornness. She wanted to live, to see the Warmaster’s ambitions come to fruition. She wanted the Imperium that Horus had promised. An empire for eternity. A kingdom of humanity that would never fall. Hindarah grumbled, sensing her princeps’ unease, but too drugged by her cooled reactor to do anything more. There it was again, the treasonous little notion Ulienne couldn’t quite shake. Horus was a hero, the Warmaster of the Imperium, the pacifier of the galaxy. Of course she’d followed him. The Legio Audax had willingly worn his colours and cast their fate with his. But what would be left after this war? What would be left of Terra and the armies fighting to take it? Surely even now, quiescent alien kingdoms at the Imperium’s edges were reawakening, daring to cast jealous eyes at the worlds they’d lost in the Great Crusade. Would there be enough of the Warmaster’s hosts left to hold the Imperium in its entirety? And what would those hosts look like, with all order and discipline and humanity raked out of them? The Legiones Astartes were already blood-maddened and fighting by the side of those… those things. The regiments of Imperial Army wearing the Warmaster’s Eye were no better. Ulienne Grune didn’t want peace. Peace was boring. Peace was for the weak. She wanted wars she could win. And the Mechanicum, blessings upon its name, was turning on itself, speaking in shrieking cants of scrap code. Raving prophets advocated the abandonment of the Self; immersion within the Manifold, fusion with the machine-spirit. Conflicting philosophies from cults that had never agreed on anything before but at least had the restraint to keep out of each other’s ideologies. Now they screamed with a kind of scattered unity, praying for the sacrifice of flesh and soul to be reborn in cradles of holy iron. Hindarah wanted it, too. Ulienne could feel that. For now, Hindarah waited, and the woman serving as the god-machine’s mind stared at the armoured tide rolling ahead towards the silhouette of distant battlements. This was the first moment of stillness Ulienne could recall in a long, long time. For months now, her physical world had been wholly within the confines of Hindarah’s cockpit. She escaped it only by blending her senses with her engine’s, living through its eyes and its guns, feeling Hindarah’s movements as her own. When had Ulienne last breathed fresh air instead of the sweaty reek coming out of the filtration slits behind her head? When had she last drunk anything but the recycled piss of her closest comrades? When had she last moved from her control throne? Ulienne breathed in, catching the smell of her own shit. Her output filters had failed… when? Days ago? Weeks ago? Her legs were caked with her own waste. Her uniform was patchy with vomit that stank of stale nutrient paste. Once noticed, the stench of the various filths crusting her to her throne was omnipresent. Practically overwhelming. Blearily, she caught sight of her arm. Her hand was a black claw, fused to the metal of– ‘My princeps?’ Jolted from her reverie, she turned her gummy eyes towards Otesh. ‘Moderatus,’ she acknowledged. Sands of Mars, but she was tired, so damn tired. ‘Awaiting your order, my princeps.’ Ulienne stared at her crewmate. Otesh was carrion, her skin sick and sunless, her eyes dry. Ulienne could smell her now too, the spoiled meat sweetness of her. She’d been dead at least a week, even before they’d attempted the climb. At some point before she’d died, the moderatus had bitten through her own tongue. Flies were growing fat on her face, crawling in and out of her open mouth. Ulienne opened her eyes. Or closed them. The dream stopped, or perhaps started again. She wasn’t sure which, nor was she sure if it really mattered any more. ‘My princeps?’ Otesh said again. ‘You’re dead,’ Ulienne said. Or thought. She couldn’t tell if she was speaking or thinking. Even banked, Hindarah’s reactor was pressing at the back of Ulienne’s mind; a constant pressure right in the grey meat of her skull. ‘Are you dead, Otesh?’ ‘My princeps?’ Ulienne heard the words or imagined hearing them. They were spoken by Otesh or by the thing wearing Otesh’s skin or they weren’t spoken at all. Ulienne felt wet warmth on her face. She was weeping. Or she was bleeding from her eyes again. ‘Walk,’ she said, closing her hands around the arms of her control throne. She felt and heard her gloves creak. She was still wearing them. Her hands weren’t black claws melded to the metal. They weren’t. They weren’t. Though she couldn’t bring herself to look to make sure. ‘We walk. Advance with the horde.’ Hindarah rattled and clanked her way forward. The pressure eased, just a little, in Ulienne’s head. The smell of foulness receded. The Warhound’s remaining weapon arm came up. Her stride, though hitched, became a loping run. The ground shook as they began outpacing the infantry. They were charging through the ranks of creatures, half-hidden in the dust, that it hurt to look at. So Ulienne kept her eyes on the walls. Spires were appearing through dusty mist, blunted by bombardment. Fallen battlements. Ruined defence turrets. If Avalon was truly abandoned, that meant a spillage of refugees and retreating soldiers in the expanses of no-man’s-land between here and the Eternity Gate. To Hindarah, it meant prey. The god-machine’s soul urged its commander with a somatic nudge through their tangled linkage. Ulienne’s skin prickled. She parted her lips, and blood made strings between her rotten teeth. The walls of Avalon Bastion grew taller; darkening, resolving. And then: something new. Above the battlements, a lone star shone in the blandness of the ashen sky. Through the iron of her Titan’s bones, Ulienne could hear the legionaries cheering, chanting at her feet, calling out to Hindarah, to Horus, to the creatures in their midst – and to Angron, Angron, Angron. The newborn star started to fall, trailing a tail of fire.
I loved the stories around the Pharos the most. But there were few books from HH I didn't enjoy.
The original plan was to read to the end given that it was "finishing" and then take a break from Warhammer books. But ultimately I enjoyed it so much I couldn't help going through a couple of the other recommended reads as well.
I was not as blown away by the Night Lords trilogy or Infinite and the Divine as I expected to be based on the reviews. But did enjoy them nonetheless. I think Curze made the right call regarding the Night Lords and I think it kind of bugs me that the rest of the Night Lords don't come to similar conclusions (trying to avoid spoiling too much). It would fit with their nature to do so I think.
Vaults of Terra and Eisenhorn were however fantastic in my opinion.

If anyone has recommendations as to where to go next I'm open to suggestions. I've accidentally fudged the order a bit given I've read the Vaults books already but marked where I've been told they fall based on this. My current plan is as follows:

1. Fall of Cadia (January 2017) - summary sufficient
2. Fracture of Biel-Tan (February 2017) - summary sufficient
3. Rise of the Primarch (March 2017) - summary sufficient
4. Cadia Stands by Justin D. Hill (December 2017)
5. Vaults of Terra: The Carrion Throne by Chris Wraight (April 2017)
6. Dante by Guy Haley (February 2018)
7. Vaults of Terra: The Hollow Mountain by Chris Wraight (January 2020)
8. Watchers of the Throne: The Emperor’s Legion by Chris Wraight (December 2017)
9. Vaults of Terra: The Dark City by Chris Wraight (March 2021)
10. Avenging Son by Guy Haley (July 2020)
11. The Gate of Bones by Andy Clark (January 2021)
12. The Wolftime by Gav Thorpe (November 2021)
13. Throne of Light by Guy Haley (February 2022)
14. Knights of Macragge by Nick Kyme (January 2019)
15. Watchers of the Throne: The Regent’s Shadow by Chris Wraight (July 2019)
16. Indomitus by Gav Thorpe (July 2020)
17. Ephrael Stern: The Heretic Saint by David Annandale (September 2020)
18. Dark Imperium by Guy Haley (June 2017)
19. The Swords of Calth by Graham McNeill (May 2020)
20. Dark Imperium: Plague War by Guy Haley (September 2018)
21. Dark Imperium: Godblight by Guy Haley (May 2021)
22. Belisarius Cawl: The Great Work by Guy Haley (June 2019)

Equally, if there are choice HH novels you think I've missed then please suggest!

Here is my reading order so far. There's a quick summary provided with each because I'm copy pasting from my original notes file with details of what was in each book.

• Horus Rising (Horus Heresy I) by Dan Abnett
  • The first book in the Horus Heresy series, setting the stage for the fall of Horus. It portrays the early days of the Great Crusade and the rise of Warmaster Horus. The book highlights the camaraderie and conflicts among the Space Marines and the seeds of betrayal.
• False Gods (Horus Heresy II) by Graham McNeill
  • This book delves into the origins of Horus's fall from grace. It explores his seduction by Chaos and the pivotal events leading to his eventual rebellion. The narrative focuses on the manipulation and deception that drive Horus to treachery.
• Galaxy in Flames (Horus Heresy III) by Ben Counter
  • The tragic conclusion of the initial trilogy of the Horus Heresy. It depicts the catastrophic events of the Isstvan III betrayal. The writing is noted as less compelling, but the plot's significance carries the story.
• The Flight of the Eisenstein (Horus Heresy IV) by James Swallow
  • This action-packed novel follows Nathaniel Garro as he escapes the massacre at Isstvan III to warn the Emperor of Horus's treachery. The book is likened to an action movie, with intense sequences and gripping plot twists.
• Legion (Horus Heresy VII) by Dan Abnett
  • This book is a divisive but well-regarded entry in the series. It focuses on the Alpha Legion and features significant revelations about the 40K universe. The story emphasizes espionage and complex motivations rather than straightforward battles.
• Tales of Heresy (Horus Heresy X)
  • An anthology with standout stories like "Blood Games" by Dan Abnett and "The Last Church" by Graham McNeill. The collection provides diverse perspectives on the Horus Heresy. It’s highly recommended for its varied and impactful short stories.
• A Thousand Sons (Horus Heresy XII) by Graham McNeill
  • A must-read entry focusing on the fall of the Thousand Sons Legion. It details the tragic events that lead to the burning of Prospero. The narrative explores themes of knowledge, hubris, and betrayal.
• Prospero Burns (Horus Heresy XV) by Dan Abnett
  • Originally intended to release alongside A Thousand Sons, it provides the Space Wolves' perspective on the same events. The delay in publication added anticipation, making it a crucial companion piece to understand the full scope of the Prospero tragedy.
• The First Heretic (Horus Heresy XIV) by Aaron Dembski-Bowden
  • A critical book in the series, detailing the true beginnings of the Heresy through the eyes of Lorgar and the Word Bearers. It explores the philosophical and spiritual motivations behind the rebellion. This novel is highly praised for its deep character development and lore expansion.
• Know No Fear (Horus Heresy XIX) by Dan Abnett
  • A highly recommended book depicting the Battle of Calth between the Ultramarines and the Word Bearers. Abnett’s storytelling shines in the portrayal of large-scale warfare and individual heroism. It’s a pivotal moment in the Heresy, showcasing tactical brilliance and brutal combat.
• Fear to Tread (Horus Heresy XXI) by James Swallow
  • Focuses on the Blood Angels and their Primarch Sanguinius. The novel includes significant flashbacks and key events that shape the future of the Blood Angels. It's particularly engaging for fans of this legion.
• Betrayer (Horus Heresy XXIV) by Aaron Dembski-Bowden
  • Centers on Angron and Lorgar as they wreak havoc in the Ultramar sector. The book offers a nuanced portrayal of these characters, making readers sympathize with their plight. It's a highly recommended read for its emotional depth and intense action.
• The Unremembered Empire (Horus Heresy XXVII) by Dan Abnett
  • Initiates the Imperium Secundus storyline, featuring multiple Primarchs and their efforts to create a second empire amidst the Heresy. Abnett’s writing is praised for its complexity and character interactions. The book is pivotal for understanding the broader implications of the Heresy.
• Vengeful Spirit (Horus Heresy) by Graham McNeill
  • Provides insight into Horus’s perspective and development, focusing on his plans and the impact of his decisions. The novel includes significant appearances by the Death Guard and explores themes of power and corruption.
• Pharos (Horus Heresy XXXVI) by Guy Haley
  • Continues the Imperium Secundus arc, featuring key characters like Dantioch and Polux. The novel is noted for its strong character development and intense plot. It’s highly regarded for adding depth to the ongoing storyline.
• Angels of Caliban (Horus Heresy XXXVIII) by Gav Thorpe
  • Wraps up the Imperium Secundus story and continues the Dark Angels arc. The novel is recommended for its intricate plot and character exploration. It provides crucial context for the larger Heresy narrative.
• Praetorian of Dorn (Horus Heresy XXXIX) by John French
  • Focuses on the defense of Terra and the Imperial Fists. The story is notable for its thrilling plot and significant revelations. It’s a must-read for its portrayal of the preparations for the final battles.
• The Master of Mankind (Horus Heresy XLI) by Aaron Dembski-Bowden
  • Explores the Emperor’s perspective and his efforts to protect humanity. The novel portrays the Emperor in a less flattering light, revealing his complexities and flaws. It’s essential reading for understanding the broader motivations behind the Heresy.
• Ruinstorm (Horus Heresy XLVI) by David Annandale
  • Continues the journey of the Blood Angels, Ultramarines, and Dark Angels towards Terra. The book blends horror elements with strategic warfare. It explains key events leading to the final battles of the Heresy.
• The Burden of Loyalty (Horus Heresy XLVIII) Anthology
  • Includes the notable story "Perpetual" by Dan Abnett, which fills in gaps in the overarching narrative. The anthology provides valuable background and character development. It’s recommended for its diverse and enriching tales.
• Wolfsbane (Horus Heresy XLIX) by Guy Haley
  • Focuses on Leman Russ and the Space Wolves, detailing their confrontation with Horus. The novel also explores the origins of Belisarius Cawl. It’s a mixed read but essential for fans of the Space Wolves.
• Slaves to Darkness (Horus Heresy LI) by John French
  • A crucial book where Horus gathers the traitor primarchs for the final assault on Terra. The novel features intense interactions and political maneuvers among the traitors. It’s highly recommended for its plot significance and character dynamics.
• The Solar War (Siege of Terra I) by John French
  • The first book in the Siege of Terra series, marking the beginning of the end. It covers Horus’s entry into the Solar System and the initial stages of the siege. The book is praised for its epic scope and character callbacks.
• The Lost and the Damned (Siege of Terra II) by Guy Haley
  • Chronicles the landing of Horus’s forces on Terra and the ensuing battles. It features a wide array of characters and perspectives. The novel is noted for its dramatic and intense scenes.
• The First Wall (Siege of Terra III) by Gav Thorpe
  • Focuses on the battle for the Lion’s Gate spaceport. While it introduces interesting subplots, the main event is the fierce combat. It’s a detailed account of one of the critical points in the siege.
• Saturnine (Siege of Terra IV) by Dan Abnett
  • The standout book in the Siege of Terra series, delivering high-stakes action and character-driven drama. Abnett balances multiple storylines and provides significant payoffs. It’s the most acclaimed book in the series so far for its epic and emotional depth.
• Mortis (Siege of Terra V) by John French
  • This book continues the Siege of Terra series, focusing on the Titan warfare as the forces of Horus clash with the defenders of Terra. The story is marked by large-scale battles and intense mech combat. It delves into the strategic and personal stakes of the siege.
• Warhawk (Siege of Terra VI) by Chris Wraight
  • The narrative centers on the White Scars and their Primarch, Jaghatai Khan, during the siege. It highlights their efforts to break through Horus’s lines and support the defense of Terra. The book combines high-octane action with moments of deep character insight.
• Echoes of Eternity (Siege of Terra VII) by Aaron Dembski-Bowden
  • This installment brings the Siege of Terra closer to its climax. It explores the psychological and physical toll of the siege on both attackers and defenders. The book features intense battles and significant character moments as the endgame approaches.
• THE END AND THE DEATH I, II, III
  • For some reason this one got lost in my copy pasting of notes but obviously I've read it lol
• The End and the Death: Volume I (Siege of Terra VIII) by Dan Abnett
  • The first volume of the concluding trilogy, it delves into the final days of the Siege of Terra, showcasing the escalating desperation and intensity of the conflict. Key events and turning points are detailed, setting the stage for the ultimate confrontation.
• The End and the Death: Volume II (Siege of Terra IX) by Dan Abnett
  • Continuing from Volume I, this book pushes the narrative toward its inevitable conclusion. The battles grow fiercer, and the stakes higher, as both sides prepare for the final showdown. The depth of character development and the grim realities of war are further explored.
• The End and the Death: Volume III (Siege of Terra X) by Dan Abnett
  • The final volume brings the Siege of Terra to its dramatic and conclusive end. The climax of the Horus Heresy unfolds, revealing the ultimate fates of the key characters and the future of the Imperium. This book is expected to deliver a powerful and emotional resolution to the epic saga.
• Eisenhorn trilogy by Dan Abnett
  • Follows the Inquisitor Gregor Eisenhorn as he navigates the treacherous politics of the Imperium and battles heresy. The trilogy is a blend of detective noir and dark sci-fi, showcasing Eisenhorn’s moral struggles and his fight against corruption. It’s highly regarded for its deep character development and immersive world-building.
  • "Xenos"
  • "Malleus"
  • "Hereticus"
• Night Lords trilogy by Aaron Dembski-Bowden
  • Chronicles the exploits of the Night Lords Chaos Space Marines. The trilogy delves into the lives of these renegade warriors, revealing their brutal tactics and fractured psyches. It’s praised for its gritty atmosphere and complex, morally ambiguous characters.
  • "Soul Hunter"
  • "Blood Reaver"
  • "Void Stalker"
• The Infinite and the Divine by Robert Rath
  • Focuses on the Necron Overlords Trazyn the Infinite and Orikan the Diviner. The story is filled with dark humor and epic clashes as the two immortals vie for dominance and artifacts across the galaxy. It provides a unique perspective on the 40K universe through the eyes of the ancient and enigmatic Necrons.
• Valdor: Birth of the Imperium by Chris Wraight
  • This novel explores the origins and rise of Constantin Valdor, the Emperor’s Chief Custodian. It sheds light on the formative years of the Imperium and Valdor’s role in shaping its future. The book is noted for its rich lore and exploration of the early days of the Emperor’s reign.
• Vaults of Terra series by Chris Wraight
  • Follows the investigations of Inquisitor Erasmus Crowl and his acolyte Spinoza on Terra. The series uncovers deep secrets and conspiracies within the heart of the Imperium. It combines mystery, political intrigue, and action, offering a detailed look at the inner workings of the Emperor’s domain.
  • "The Carrion Throne"
  • "The Hollow Mountain"
  • "The Dark City"

Morning from the UK here,
I've seen my GP this morning as since being diagnosed with HH and esophagitis my symptoms are getting worse.
• Nausea waking up • Acidic Phlegm/Saliva when clearing lump in throat (NEW symptom) • Globus sensation • Back, Shoulder,Chest throbbing aches (NEW) • Bilateral stabbing ear pain (comes and goes) • White tongue even after brushing clearing x2 a day (NEW) • Liquid feeling like it's still in throat after drinking (NEW) • On and off back/shoulder pain after eating • Post Nasal Drip • Hoarser voice (NEW)
I've had reflux on and off for years, used to get heartburn, but don't anymore.
Had endo March, 3cm HH/Esophagitis - no Barrett's.
Dr has suggested I up my dosage to 40mg Esomperzole twice a day so up to 80mg now.
To me, this is just crazy. Does anyone have any advice as to their journey and how to navigate it? I fear I'm just going to be kept on PPI for good and it's really affecting my life daily. I can't eat anything beyond beige, bland food.
I went for a run a week ago and came back and had a horrible mouthful of acidic phlegm/saliva, never had these new issues before. Not sure what to do, I'm very worried my esophagitis is getting worse despite lifestyle changes and meds. I will be honest and admit to have a few beers now and again but haven't had a beer for a week and when I was it was actually a few Guinness.
Any advice welcome 🤗

Welcome back yet again to Stynek and her adventures surviving a predator horror of being abducted and experimented on. Today we continue right where we left off, as well as take a peek at a completely different character's perspective on current events.
As usual, thanks to SpacePaladin15 for his own great work and letting fanfiction flow, and everyone who supported and enjoyed the fic thus far. Your support keeps me motivated to provide you more~
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Memory transcription subject: Stynek, Venlil Test Subject
Date [standardized human time]: July 17th, 2136
The impossible happened. For first time in months I felt... genuinely bored. It’s surprising that it never happened in the arxur pens, but at least there were things to distract me from how little to do there was. Such as other cattle I could at least try talking to. Or the constant atmosphere of hanging dread. Or the horrid smell due to a lack of cleaning. Here, there was none of that. Room was clean, and there wasn’t anyone else. Once I cried myself out for the paw, I just didn’t have much else to do.
Isn’t a lack of company like this terrible for us? Maybe they want me to start going insane. It’s hard to measure passage of time here. There is something resembling a clock on the wall, but I have no clue what measurements on it are. And the only company I had so far is that one predator. Although I’ve only seen it two more times since the weird head rubbing thing under the table. Once to bring in a new set of food to taste and eat, and once to take away the tray and new filled out sheet.
That food was better overall. I liked the crunchy and soft leaves. They had something resembling strayu, but flavor was much blander, so clearly predators are lousy cooks, assuming they even were the ones to make it. There was also something that tasted like a mashed vegetable in a bowl. Thankfully they had a spoon for it, and it was pleasantly salty too! I liked that. The best though was another fruit, like the great fruit from first tasting, but it was somehow even juicier, even sweeter and much softer on the inside, with green surface. That one I marked at high mark this time.
But other than that meal, there wasn’t much. I slept for a claw or so, and since the meal nothing was happening. What was I even a captive for? The room gave little indication. I finished my exploration, but after looking around more the only thing I found was the fact that matted floor in the corner was actually soft to sit on. I wish I could move a piece of that floor under the desk. There were also drawing implements in one of desk’s drawers, but I chose not to risk touching them lest I upset the predators. Thanks to mom’s job I could have those at home, but I knew they were expensive, and I can’t imagine how much more they might be in a predator society...
Suddenly I heard a familiar click and scampered to the spot I have chosen to be in whenever the predator enters the room – under the desk. I did spend my sleeping claw on the bed, because for all its comfort, the under desk hiding spot was not best for sleep, but otherwise, it was furthest spot there was from the door.
Now safely not-really-hidden-but-feeling-safer-at-least, I observed the predator enter. I almost expected it to be carrying another tray of food, but instead, it brought some large rectangular panel and a small box with it. Instead of putting it on the eating table, like it did with food before, it headed directly for the soft-floored corner and... Sat there?
I peeked out from under the desk to look at the predator, who stared right back at me, making me startle right back under. Why is it here? It didn’t approach me directly to try and rub at my head again this time, but its attention was clearly focused on me.
Once it settled with its legs crossed, it put the panel aside and lowered the box in front of itself, opening it. I watched cautiously, and while it was clear it was still watching me, it seemed to not make any moves. I couldn’t see what was inside the box, but once it was open, the predator looked back at me and actually beckoned me with its hand. I pulled myself deeper under the desk, but that did not seem to be a satisfying response, predator leaning back and letting out a long breath before touching some device inside its weird ear and mumbling something. A communicator, to talk to other predators watching?
Next few moments were just that. Predator watching me, me watching it back from under the desk. It seemed like the predator decided to break the stalemate first, by taking something out of the box and showing it to me. I had hard time making out what exactly it was while not exposing myself, but thanks to the predator rotating it in its hands, I could see that it was a... slice of fruit. And not any fruit, probably same delicious fruit from first food tray!
Worst part was that the predator was clearly extending it towards me, as if offering it to me. On one hand, I knew that if it wanted, it could easily just grab and pull me out from under the desk. Yet for some reason it was obviously luring me out with food... It had some goal in mind beyond just me leaving the desk behind.
And it kept rotating the piece between its long fingers, making me drool at the sight. Well... If it wanted to just hurt me more, it would easily pull me out, right? So I’ll get hurt either way, but at least if I do what it wants, I’ll appease it, right? And I’ll get that fruit slice too.
I slowly crawled out and approached the predator, who seemed to have corners of its mouth rise at my approach. I still couldn’t tell the meaning of their facial expressions, but that didn’t feel aggressive at least. I only crawled close enough so that I could reach the fruit piece it was holding out with my own extended hand, grab it and recoil back. Crawling backwards with one leg still wasn’t something I figured out yet, so I just sat out in the open, but out of predator’s reach and quickly munched down on the fruit... Mhm... Just as delicious as before. I was prepared to turn myself around and crawl back, only for predator to pull another piece out of the box. It raised its hand, offering it to me again, but this time, hand wasn’t outstretched, meaning I’d need to get closer than last time. I see how it is...
I could just return under the desk, but even though I wasn’t that hungry, idea of plates of food I’m getting changing every time meant that I wouldn’t be getting things I loved again. So if I wanted more, I’d need to take it now... So I crawl a bit closer, actually close enough to be on the soft matted floor, but just far enough that if predator reached for me I could recoil backwards and out of reach. Once there, I adjusted my leg into a sitting position and grabbed the piece of fruit out of predator’s hand, munching it down too... Sweet and delicious...
With that done, I didn’t bother trying to crawl away, waiting for the predator to do whatever it wanted to do with me now out from under the desk. It seemed to just sit there, that unsettling expression on its face as it stared at me, making me turn my head away, trying to not do stare back, instead watching it with one eye cautiously. Once it was certain I’m not about to recoil again, rather than take more slices of fruit out of the box, it reached for the large panel and put it down in front of itself, between us. With it down, I could see what it was. It was some sort of a board, with a bunch of buttons, each button marked with an image next to it, as well as some writing in an unfamiliar language, probably predator writing. I wondered what the purpose of the board was.
That purpose was revealed quickly. The predator said something out loud, then pressed the button on the board next to a picture of a white venlil. I thought it might be me, but the leg being intact and the color of their fur being off made me think it was just meant to be a generic venlil. The button pressed startled me a bit, as board spoke in same growly tone as the predator, repeating the thing it said.
I just stared back in confusion and after a few moments the predator repeated the process, first saying the exact same thing, then making the board say it. Wait... That word sounded familiar... Without thinking I reached and pressed the button myself, and actually listened to word being said.
“Venlil.”
My eyes widened and my ears perked up in shock as I realized that it was name of my species! Said in a predator tongue! Sure, pronunciation was hard to recognize, but on closer listen, it’s almost similar to how a gojid would say that word in their language. Without translator it’s harder to spot, but names of species rarely actually translate, so they sound at least vaguely similar. And the predator was saying that very word.
“Venlil.” Predator enunciated again, staring back at me. I got the feeling it was expecting something from me.
“Venlil...?” I repeated after the predator, causing it to tense its lips even further. Next movement startled me a little, but its hands simply reached into the box and took out another fruit slice, handing it to me. I took it, but didn’t immediately chow it down as I realized what it was. It was a reward. I did what they wanted. I guess I’m glad it wasn’t anything bad? Plus, it tastes good, so I sent this slice right after the rest quickly before turning my attention back to the predator.
Seemingly satisfied with me saying the word, it said another word, this one very much unfamiliar, pressing a different button, the board repeating the sound. The picture next to the button was that of a stylized predator, just like stylized venlil from earlier. This one was mostly covered in clothes and had short head fur, like the one in front of me, but light coloring, like the long-furred one from before. I guess that means this word is their species name and that’s their generic representation? I twitched my ears, listening closely as predator repeated the word a few times, pressing the button each time, but always pausing inbetween. Eventually once I had an idea of what it was, I tried speaking in one of the pauses.
“Hoomahn.”
That didn’t sound like a predator’s growly voice, but it was at least similar sounds. Predator nodded at me, but rather than give me a fruit slice, it repeated the word again.
“Human.” The predator firmly reiterated. It was clearly not yet satisfied with my pronunciation, so I tried again.
“Humahn.”
“Human.”
“Human!”
That last one was on the spot and... Predator bared its teeth at me! I recoiled, thankful for being cautious in choosing a position a proper distance away from the large creature, and tried to crawl back. But predator quickly covered their mouth, the teeth shown disappearing, as it quickly waved a hand at me, followed by taking out another fruit slice and stretching it out towards me, shaking it in my direction.
I... don’t understand. Was it not upset? Why would it threaten me if it’s not upset?
...was the teeth baring not meant to be a threat? No, the predator clearly recognized that it scared me, judging by the way it covered up its mouth and tried to calm me right after. So... what’s going on? Did it just lose control over its bloodlust for a moment? That could be it, but then how did it regain control so quickly? None of it makes sense.
At least I knew they were called humans now.
The predator was still holding out the fruit slice, shaking it towards me as if desperate for me to crawl back closer for it. Against my better judgement, I decided to go for it, returning to my old position and grabbing the slice, starting to chew on it as predator seemed to relax a bit. They took another slice out of the box and...
The predator ate it. The predator just ate half the fruit slice in one bite. Predator ate fruit. Fruit. Plant. Predator. Ate.
Piece of fruit I was chewing on fell out of my open mouth, while my eyes widened so much my vision blurred as I tried to process what just happened. Predator. Ate. Plant. I looked at my own half-eaten slice, almost expecting it to have turned into a piece of flesh, like some horrifying nightmare, but it was still just a delicious, juicy fruit. Predator seemed to notice my reaction as they stopped eating their slice and tilted their head at me.
Okay. Surely there must be an explanation. Maybe the slice they just ate is meat after all? And the box has snacks for both of us? Confusion and curiosity overwhelming my safety concerns, I leaned over the board and closer to predator, peeking inside the box. But it was just fruit slices! Nothing else. And fruit slice in their own hand was identical too!
The predator extended the half bitten fruit slice to me, offering it as well, but I recoiled back to my sitting position from that. No! Not putting something that was in predator’s mouth in my own.
But how? Were they not predators after all? Thinking about it, glimpse I got of their teeth, while a threatening display, revealed that they were... mostly flat.
No! No, no, no! I know they’re predators, they... I glanced down at where my leg should be. Then at the slice in predator’s hand. I don’t understand. Maybe... it’s just eating it to try and relate to me somehow? With empathy? That makes no sense either, not only do predators lack it, they also can’t eat plants, that’s why they’re predators.
...is the predator hurting itself to try and keep me calm? That... is sad...
The predator seemed to shrug with its shoulders as it went for another bite of the fruit slice. I couldn’t help but let out a beep of distress at the idea of a creature, even predator, hurting itself. That seemed to stop it, and gave the human pause as it stopped, mouth hanging open, interrupted mid-bite. I tried to do similar motion to what it did before, waving my palms in the air in front of it. Sure, it was a horrible predator, but even predators don’t hurt themselves! If anything it would be much more unnatural for a predator to hurt itself, with how evil and selfish they are. Nothing makes sense.
I looked down at the board, trying to figure out a way to communicate, but my options were limited. After examination, I found the button I was looking for. A picture of a venlil eating that fruit I liked! I knew it stood for ‘eat’ because a picture of that fruit itself was a separate button. Quickly, I pressed buttons in the sequence.
‘Venlil. Eat.’
Then I mashed at every button next to pictures of plants I could find.
Once done, I looked up to make sure predator was still paying attention, before putting in another sequence.
‘Human. Eat. Venlil.’
That caused the predator to let out a scary guttural sound, making me recoil. It put the piece of fruit aside before reaching for the board, inputting a sequence of their own.
‘Human. Eat.’ followed by... buttons next to pictures of fruit and nuts and even that not-strayu thing that was on here. Not grass, trees and bushes like I did initially.
Then the human paused and pressed another sequence of buttons. First, the ‘Human’. Then a button neither of us touched yet, one next to a familiar symbol - two crossed lines. That’s the symbol they asked me to put in for foods I didn’t like on the food sheet. Following that, there were two more buttons. ‘Eat. Venlil.’ While the intent of what the predator was trying to say, I couldn’t comprehend the meaning. They don’t like eating venlil? Was I left alive because I wasn’t tasty? Was the meaning behind the symbol something else?
Then the human said some word. I wasn’t sure what it was, and they didn’t use the board to show what the word was. They just said it and repeated it over and over, as tears formed in their eyes. I was too shocked to move at that. Even as human reached their hand towards me and pressed into my head. It didn’t feel like a grab, especially as their hand rubbed into my scalp. It still felt nice... And with predator having teary eyes, despite them staring me down... I couldn’t feel scared of it.
This predator was somehow broken. That’s the only explanation. Maybe that’s why it’s working with me and not the other humans?
It just kept repeating that word, and unsure of what to do, I quietly talked back in normal speech.
“I... don’t know what that means.”
That made the human stop, their mouth curling up again. They wiped the tears with sleeve of their outfit and took a breath. Then they pointed a finger at their own face and said two words.
“Human Noah.”
First word was the species name. The second... was it a name? I flicked my ear, hoping for them to repeat it, which they quickly did.
“Human Noah. Noah.”
I tried repeating that after them.
“Novah.”
“Noah.”
“Nowah?”
“Noah.”
“Noah.”
Yes! That sounded great. Noah nodded their head, handing me another fruit slice, thankfully not one they bit, but fresh one from the box. I took it, but rather than eating, I put it aside myself. I wasn’t sure I wanted to encourage this predator to hurt itself. It didn’t hurt me since I got here and I didn’t want to be the reason it got stomachache... Upsetting a predator like that is a recipe for disaster.
Noah stared back at me, tilting its head as it watched me put the fruit aside. It looked at its own before shrugging and pointing at me, enunciating a single word.
“Venlil.”
Oh... I think I know what they’re asking for. But... Even though I understood it immediately, it still left me confused. Why would predators need their cattle’s name? Or test subject’s? What even was I? I had no clue anymore. although idea of predators knowing my name was creepy in its own right... Idea of being referred to like arxur did, ‘the venlil’, ‘cattle’ or ‘snack’ wasn’t appealing either. Plus... This predator is broken, so maybe I can give my name to this one?
I pointed at myself same way Noah did to themselves earlier, and spoke.
“Venlil Stynek.”
And now it was Noah’s turn to speak.
“Staiinekh.”
I... really hoped I didn’t sound to them like they did to me, because that would mean they’re definitely upset at how destroyed the words were. Still I dared to correct, as the predator was expecting me to.
“Stynek.”
“Stainekh.”
“Stynek.”
“Staeenek?”
“Stynek!”
“Stynek!”
Oh wow that’s uncanny. But it also worked, a predator just spoke my name. I let out a little beep of satisfaction and wagged my tail positively.
What am I doing, a predator just spoke my name! Why am I so comfortable around a predator? That’s not right!
My momentary realization seemed to completely be unnoticed by Noah who seemed to... be struggling keeping their teeth hidden as their mouth was wide and curled up heavily. They pushed the rest of the box with fruit slices to me and stood up, taking notable route to make sure to not walk right past me, and walking around towards the desk instead. There, they pulled out the album and the multicolored markers, before lowering down and offering them to me same way they did with fruit. I stood dumbfounded. I guess it made sense the drawing supplies were for me, but why? What did they want me to do with them? Just have them? Is it a reward for not trying to escape? No, I did, when I first woke up and realized they were all still predators. Then why?
As I was thinking, I very slowly raised my hands and let the human hand the things to me. I stared down at the art supplies, before looking back up at Noah. They, in turn, let out some sort of sound, followed by two words.
First I didn’t recognize, but second was very easily recognizable. “Stynek.”
After that, the human quickly reached down to grab the half-eaten fruit slice and headed out of the room, doing the thing with arm waving at me on the way out again. I just stared back, flicking my tail in response, though I don’t think they noticed as they lingered for a bit too long before stepping out of the room properly and closing the door.
that was... a lot to process. Not to mention that I had new things to do. I could draw in this album, if implication I understood is clear. I could also learn more of predator language using the sound board left behind, and try communicating with them next time they showed up.
My eyes, however, drifted towards the box of fruit slices. With the box held in my mouth, I crawled back under the desk to consume the juicy deliciousness in peace. Maybe the sweet fruit will help me comprehend just what is happening in here.
Memory transcription subject: Captain Coth, Arxur Dominion Third Fleet
Date [standardized human time]: July 18th, 2136
“Your Savageness, with all due respect—”
“I’ve made my decision, Coth. You and Kaisal will be assigned to oversee human matters from now on.”
“Sir! You can’t expect me to work with a defective like it’s an equal!”
Chief Hunter Isif was one of older Chief Hunters, and definitely one that earned respect of countless arxur, even ones in different sectors. He is well known for his exceptional cruelty and ruthlessness. That said, I started to get the feeling that there was something about this situation that was causing his judgement to be clouded. I casted a side glance over to the runty defective standing in the corner. Hunched over like a scared prey at the sight of me objecting. Failing to even stand proud.
“And I don’t expect you to, Coth. Kaisal is a defective and even if he wasn’t, he is below your station.” Isif responded, staring me down directly, causing even me to feel a shudder in my heart. “But he was the reason we even spotted the humans. And with what we know of them, his defective perspective on their behavior might be more valuable than anything us proper arxur could provide.” The Chief Hunter shifted his gaze from me to the runty defective, making the weakling curl up on himself further. “Let him be useful for once in his pathetic life.”
Showing at least a basic modicum of respect for once, the defective lowered its head in a submissive gesture. Still, while Isif was done with that one, he wasn’t done with me.
“Coth, the humans will change everything. I know it. You’re the captain who understands that. But you need to understand something else too. Humans are not us. They’re different. Sure, there is youthful naivity to their species having just come to the stars. But it’s more than that.”
I could sense a leading question and took the opportunity to let a superior show off in front of me.
“What is it that’s so different about them then, Your Savageness?”
Isif let out a low hum of consideration before responding.
“Empathy. To us arxur it was a hindrance and detriment. We discarded it like an outdated tool once it betrayed us in our foolish attempt at dealing with leaf-lickers. But humans evolved to rely on it in every aspect of their lives, down to their hunting. Which comes with downside of course...” Isif turned away, though I could sense frustration emanating from him. “...they are so empathetic they even feel for their prey. I sensed it when I met their emissaries. How they squirmed at the sight of a venlil getting butchered. I bet the reason they took it with them was just to finish it off and give it a quick death. They have no Betterment. Unlike us, they never developed the need to.”
That’s right. While Betterment was the true philosophy of strength that succeeded in helping the Arxur Dominion achieve true greatness and superiority, it did not come to us that easily. Without the hunger and starvation the leaf-lickers subjected us to, perhaps we as a species would never have achieved enlightenment.
“...they likely actively oppose ideals of Betterment. That’s why they refused our alliance...” I heard the mumbles from my side, turning my head to lock eyes with the defective.
“Silence, defective! If you speak to your superior out of turn again, I’ll—”
“Enough, Coth.” Isif stopped me, raising a hand to signify silence. I stood straighter and silenced myself, watching Chief Hunter approach the defective and grab it by the throat, lifting the runt up with ease. “You, Kaisal, need to remember your position. You are still just disposable raid fodder. You are lucky you were on a scout ship. You are lucky I noticed the report you sent regarding a mysterious ship from outside of our sector. And you are lucky I chose you and not another defective runt for this. When you wish to speak to your better, you ask for permission to speak. Remember that, defective?”
“Y-Yes... Your... Savageness...” He gurgled out in response, struggling to form words under Chief Hunter’s claw. Once that was said, Isif released him, causing the weakling to fall on the floor, coughing and recovering his breath. Part of me expected him to slice open the defective’s throat, but I guess I can see the value in not needing to deal with more than one defective for this mission, just as I see the... ‘value’ in such a perspective.
“Good. Coth, if he causes trouble, you are not to act yourself. Merely send this one directly to me.” Chief Hunter added, baring his teeth to accentuate his point.
“Yes, Your Savageness!”
“Now. Your posting is simple. Interact with any representatives that humans send to us that aren’t their leader. I deal with Elias Meier, you deal with his underlings. You are also to personally handle and check the hand-off on their first supply of meat.” He continued his earlier speech, as he sat down in his chair. “Whenever you are interacting with humans, keep Kaisal at your side. Do not let him speak over you in front of the humans of course, but do listen to his perspective after the fact. A defective is more likely to understand humans than one of us.”
I was glad for the posting. I wouldn’t call myself a defective by any means, but I did have a more natural predisposition to social interaction than an average of our kind. Perhaps that’s why I shared Chief Hunter’s passion for establishing the relations with humans.
“P-Permission to speak, Chief Hunter..?” the defective suddenly made itself known again.
“Granted.”
“The amount humans promised for the complete and detailed information on Federation military... It’s untenable. There’s no way they can supply that much in so little time. I fear they may resort to trickery to meet the demand.”
That... is a good point. It was surprising how easily humans agreed to our requested amount, despite Chief Hunter asking a practically exorbitant price considering that information is something any captain in the Dominion had access to. Isif just seemed to be amused by the defective’s suggestion though.
“They likely will, hence why I am sending Coth to oversee first exchange personally. They wish to benefit of us, as much as we wish to benefit of them. As long as they supply even a fourth of what we requested, we will be ahead of schedule by at least two major raids already, and if the rest will be empty containers or fake meat, well... We’ll have leverage against them. I know full well that even a cattle world filled to capacity would struggle to provide so much so quickly without starving its own population. It’s all a test of their predatory prowess.” The Chief Hunter chuckled to himself, clearly amused with his plan.
I found myself lightly amused too. But at the same time worried for the humans. If they fail to pass this test, Chief Hunter might start getting aggressive against them. First potential partners in the hunt in centuries, I’d rather see them integrated as equal partners than some halfway point between a predator and a leaf-licker.
My thoughts were interrupted though as Chief Hunter cleared his throat.
“Now, are your assignments clear to both of you?”
“Yes, Your Savageness!” I found my voice joined in perfect sync with the defective. At least it can do something right.
“Then you’re free to prepare for the trade. The date is already fast approaching.”
With a salute of respect, I left Chief Hunter’s strategy room. As I did, I just barely missed the defective running off ahead of me, and my opportunity of properly reminding it of its place. Another time, maybe.
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Possible accidental spoilers throughout. Some more discussion below the book list.

Some thoughts while reading given up top, my list/order for HH is included for anyone interested in replicating, followed by my current plan forward that I'd like help with, and I've included the descriptions I was given so you can get a feel for what each one is about.
Since the start of the year I powered through most of the HH trying to cover the main story branches.
I really enjoyed the books from the get go and had not expected to as I'm not a big fiction reader. I only had a handful that were just less enjoyable. Nothing overly bad. It really cemented my love of the Ultramarine's.
I also think actually reading the books has done a lot to illustrate how few people HAVE actually read the Lore. Particularly even innocuous things like Land and the "Land Raider" which is clearly played for laughs in-Universe and actually mirrors the naming of Tanks (look it up) but always gets brought up as something super dumb.
I felt like the Emperor is also much more sympathetic than most give credit for and are largely assessing him on grounds of real world ethics rather than those described and the situations the characters find themselves in.
I found the Dark Angels VERY irritating which I think is maybe a controversial view but every one of their narratives felt like "Oh no! The consequences of my actions! Whose fault are these?!?!"
HH in particularly also kind of blows the whole "it's satire" thing out the water. This is a VERY archetypal good vs evil story. Try as you might to avoid it, you're going to make Chaos look Bad and order look good. And they do not try to avoid it. That's not to say that everything the Imperium does is right by a long shot. But it's hard to come away thinking "good people on both sides". ADB gives I think one of the most disturbing accounts of Chaos and I don't see how anyone could read it and think "good guys" (not a crit of people who enjoy the factions/characters etc):
From Echoes of Eternity, inside a Warhound Titan walking towards the final battle on Terra:
Her eyes always slid away from the things the moment she tried to look at them. As soon as she looked away, she forgot they were there. The horde had the numbers to bring about the war’s end, while the defenders only possessed the numbers to delay it – but the losses were going to be grotesque. Ulienne didn’t want to die for the Emperor’s stubbornness. She wanted to live, to see the Warmaster’s ambitions come to fruition. She wanted the Imperium that Horus had promised. An empire for eternity. A kingdom of humanity that would never fall. Hindarah grumbled, sensing her princeps’ unease, but too drugged by her cooled reactor to do anything more. There it was again, the treasonous little notion Ulienne couldn’t quite shake. Horus was a hero, the Warmaster of the Imperium, the pacifier of the galaxy. Of course she’d followed him. The Legio Audax had willingly worn his colours and cast their fate with his. But what would be left after this war? What would be left of Terra and the armies fighting to take it? Surely even now, quiescent alien kingdoms at the Imperium’s edges were reawakening, daring to cast jealous eyes at the worlds they’d lost in the Great Crusade. Would there be enough of the Warmaster’s hosts left to hold the Imperium in its entirety? And what would those hosts look like, with all order and discipline and humanity raked out of them? The Legiones Astartes were already blood-maddened and fighting by the side of those… those things. The regiments of Imperial Army wearing the Warmaster’s Eye were no better. Ulienne Grune didn’t want peace. Peace was boring. Peace was for the weak. She wanted wars she could win. And the Mechanicum, blessings upon its name, was turning on itself, speaking in shrieking cants of scrap code. Raving prophets advocated the abandonment of the Self; immersion within the Manifold, fusion with the machine-spirit. Conflicting philosophies from cults that had never agreed on anything before but at least had the restraint to keep out of each other’s ideologies. Now they screamed with a kind of scattered unity, praying for the sacrifice of flesh and soul to be reborn in cradles of holy iron. Hindarah wanted it, too. Ulienne could feel that. For now, Hindarah waited, and the woman serving as the god-machine’s mind stared at the armoured tide rolling ahead towards the silhouette of distant battlements. This was the first moment of stillness Ulienne could recall in a long, long time. For months now, her physical world had been wholly within the confines of Hindarah’s cockpit. She escaped it only by blending her senses with her engine’s, living through its eyes and its guns, feeling Hindarah’s movements as her own. When had Ulienne last breathed fresh air instead of the sweaty reek coming out of the filtration slits behind her head? When had she last drunk anything but the recycled piss of her closest comrades? When had she last moved from her control throne? Ulienne breathed in, catching the smell of her own shit. Her output filters had failed… when? Days ago? Weeks ago? Her legs were caked with her own waste. Her uniform was patchy with vomit that stank of stale nutrient paste. Once noticed, the stench of the various filths crusting her to her throne was omnipresent. Practically overwhelming. Blearily, she caught sight of her arm. Her hand was a black claw, fused to the metal of– ‘My princeps?’ Jolted from her reverie, she turned her gummy eyes towards Otesh. ‘Moderatus,’ she acknowledged. Sands of Mars, but she was tired, so damn tired. ‘Awaiting your order, my princeps.’ Ulienne stared at her crewmate. Otesh was carrion, her skin sick and sunless, her eyes dry. Ulienne could smell her now too, the spoiled meat sweetness of her. She’d been dead at least a week, even before they’d attempted the climb. At some point before she’d died, the moderatus had bitten through her own tongue. Flies were growing fat on her face, crawling in and out of her open mouth. Ulienne opened her eyes. Or closed them. The dream stopped, or perhaps started again. She wasn’t sure which, nor was she sure if it really mattered any more. ‘My princeps?’ Otesh said again. ‘You’re dead,’ Ulienne said. Or thought. She couldn’t tell if she was speaking or thinking. Even banked, Hindarah’s reactor was pressing at the back of Ulienne’s mind; a constant pressure right in the grey meat of her skull. ‘Are you dead, Otesh?’ ‘My princeps?’ Ulienne heard the words or imagined hearing them. They were spoken by Otesh or by the thing wearing Otesh’s skin or they weren’t spoken at all. Ulienne felt wet warmth on her face. She was weeping. Or she was bleeding from her eyes again. ‘Walk,’ she said, closing her hands around the arms of her control throne. She felt and heard her gloves creak. She was still wearing them. Her hands weren’t black claws melded to the metal. They weren’t. They weren’t. Though she couldn’t bring herself to look to make sure. ‘We walk. Advance with the horde.’ Hindarah rattled and clanked her way forward. The pressure eased, just a little, in Ulienne’s head. The smell of foulness receded. The Warhound’s remaining weapon arm came up. Her stride, though hitched, became a loping run. The ground shook as they began outpacing the infantry. They were charging through the ranks of creatures, half-hidden in the dust, that it hurt to look at. So Ulienne kept her eyes on the walls. Spires were appearing through dusty mist, blunted by bombardment. Fallen battlements. Ruined defence turrets. If Avalon was truly abandoned, that meant a spillage of refugees and retreating soldiers in the expanses of no-man’s-land between here and the Eternity Gate. To Hindarah, it meant prey. The god-machine’s soul urged its commander with a somatic nudge through their tangled linkage. Ulienne’s skin prickled. She parted her lips, and blood made strings between her rotten teeth. The walls of Avalon Bastion grew taller; darkening, resolving. And then: something new. Above the battlements, a lone star shone in the blandness of the ashen sky. Through the iron of her Titan’s bones, Ulienne could hear the legionaries cheering, chanting at her feet, calling out to Hindarah, to Horus, to the creatures in their midst – and to Angron, Angron, Angron. The newborn star started to fall, trailing a tail of fire.
I loved the stories around the Pharos the most. But there were few books from HH I didn't enjoy.
The original plan was to read to the end given that it was "finishing" and then take a break from Warhammer books. But ultimately I enjoyed it so much I couldn't help going through a couple of the other recommended reads as well.
I was not as blown away by the Night Lords trilogy or Infinite and the Divine as I expected to be based on the reviews. But did enjoy them nonetheless. I think Curze made the right call regarding the Night Lords and I think it kind of bugs me that the rest of the Night Lords don't come to similar conclusions (trying to avoid spoiling too much). It would fit with their nature to do so I think.
Vaults of Terra and Eisenhorn were however fantastic in my opinion.

If anyone has recommendations as to where to go next I'm open to suggestions. I've accidentally fudged the order a bit given I've read the Vaults books already but marked where I've been told they fall based on this. My current plan is as follows:

1. Fall of Cadia (January 2017) - summary sufficient
2. Fracture of Biel-Tan (February 2017) - summary sufficient
3. Rise of the Primarch (March 2017) - summary sufficient
4. Cadia Stands by Justin D. Hill (December 2017)
5. Vaults of Terra: The Carrion Throne by Chris Wraight (April 2017)
6. Dante by Guy Haley (February 2018)
7. Vaults of Terra: The Hollow Mountain by Chris Wraight (January 2020)
8. Watchers of the Throne: The Emperor’s Legion by Chris Wraight (December 2017)
9. Vaults of Terra: The Dark City by Chris Wraight (March 2021)
10. Avenging Son by Guy Haley (July 2020)
11. The Gate of Bones by Andy Clark (January 2021)
12. The Wolftime by Gav Thorpe (November 2021)
13. Throne of Light by Guy Haley (February 2022)
14. Knights of Macragge by Nick Kyme (January 2019)
15. Watchers of the Throne: The Regent’s Shadow by Chris Wraight (July 2019)
16. Indomitus by Gav Thorpe (July 2020)
17. Ephrael Stern: The Heretic Saint by David Annandale (September 2020)
18. Dark Imperium by Guy Haley (June 2017)
19. The Swords of Calth by Graham McNeill (May 2020)
20. Dark Imperium: Plague War by Guy Haley (September 2018)
21. Dark Imperium: Godblight by Guy Haley (May 2021)
22. Belisarius Cawl: The Great Work by Guy Haley (June 2019)

Equally, if there are choice HH novels you think I've missed then please suggest!

Here is my reading order so far. I've provided a quick summary of each should anyone else want to decide to borrow from this structure/order.

• Horus Rising (Horus Heresy I) by Dan Abnett
  • The first book in the Horus Heresy series, setting the stage for the fall of Horus. It portrays the early days of the Great Crusade and the rise of Warmaster Horus. The book highlights the camaraderie and conflicts among the Space Marines and the seeds of betrayal.
• False Gods (Horus Heresy II) by Graham McNeill
  • This book delves into the origins of Horus's fall from grace. It explores his seduction by Chaos and the pivotal events leading to his eventual rebellion. The narrative focuses on the manipulation and deception that drive Horus to treachery.
• Galaxy in Flames (Horus Heresy III) by Ben Counter
  • The tragic conclusion of the initial trilogy of the Horus Heresy. It depicts the catastrophic events of the Isstvan III betrayal. The writing is noted as less compelling, but the plot's significance carries the story.
• The Flight of the Eisenstein (Horus Heresy IV) by James Swallow
  • This action-packed novel follows Nathaniel Garro as he escapes the massacre at Isstvan III to warn the Emperor of Horus's treachery. The book is likened to an action movie, with intense sequences and gripping plot twists.
• Legion (Horus Heresy VII) by Dan Abnett
  • This book is a divisive but well-regarded entry in the series. It focuses on the Alpha Legion and features significant revelations about the 40K universe. The story emphasizes espionage and complex motivations rather than straightforward battles.
• Tales of Heresy (Horus Heresy X)
  • An anthology with standout stories like "Blood Games" by Dan Abnett and "The Last Church" by Graham McNeill. The collection provides diverse perspectives on the Horus Heresy. It’s highly recommended for its varied and impactful short stories.
• A Thousand Sons (Horus Heresy XII) by Graham McNeill
  • A must-read entry focusing on the fall of the Thousand Sons Legion. It details the tragic events that lead to the burning of Prospero. The narrative explores themes of knowledge, hubris, and betrayal.
• Prospero Burns (Horus Heresy XV) by Dan Abnett
  • Originally intended to release alongside A Thousand Sons, it provides the Space Wolves' perspective on the same events. The delay in publication added anticipation, making it a crucial companion piece to understand the full scope of the Prospero tragedy.
• The First Heretic (Horus Heresy XIV) by Aaron Dembski-Bowden
  • A critical book in the series, detailing the true beginnings of the Heresy through the eyes of Lorgar and the Word Bearers. It explores the philosophical and spiritual motivations behind the rebellion. This novel is highly praised for its deep character development and lore expansion.
• Know No Fear (Horus Heresy XIX) by Dan Abnett
  • A highly recommended book depicting the Battle of Calth between the Ultramarines and the Word Bearers. Abnett’s storytelling shines in the portrayal of large-scale warfare and individual heroism. It’s a pivotal moment in the Heresy, showcasing tactical brilliance and brutal combat.
• Fear to Tread (Horus Heresy XXI) by James Swallow
  • Focuses on the Blood Angels and their Primarch Sanguinius. The novel includes significant flashbacks and key events that shape the future of the Blood Angels. It's particularly engaging for fans of this legion.
• Betrayer (Horus Heresy XXIV) by Aaron Dembski-Bowden
  • Centers on Angron and Lorgar as they wreak havoc in the Ultramar sector. The book offers a nuanced portrayal of these characters, making readers sympathize with their plight. It's a highly recommended read for its emotional depth and intense action.
• The Unremembered Empire (Horus Heresy XXVII) by Dan Abnett
  • Initiates the Imperium Secundus storyline, featuring multiple Primarchs and their efforts to create a second empire amidst the Heresy. Abnett’s writing is praised for its complexity and character interactions. The book is pivotal for understanding the broader implications of the Heresy.
• Vengeful Spirit (Horus Heresy) by Graham McNeill
  • Provides insight into Horus’s perspective and development, focusing on his plans and the impact of his decisions. The novel includes significant appearances by the Death Guard and explores themes of power and corruption.
• Pharos (Horus Heresy XXXVI) by Guy Haley
  • Continues the Imperium Secundus arc, featuring key characters like Dantioch and Polux. The novel is noted for its strong character development and intense plot. It’s highly regarded for adding depth to the ongoing storyline.
• Angels of Caliban (Horus Heresy XXXVIII) by Gav Thorpe
  • Wraps up the Imperium Secundus story and continues the Dark Angels arc. The novel is recommended for its intricate plot and character exploration. It provides crucial context for the larger Heresy narrative.
• Praetorian of Dorn (Horus Heresy XXXIX) by John French
  • Focuses on the defense of Terra and the Imperial Fists. The story is notable for its thrilling plot and significant revelations. It’s a must-read for its portrayal of the preparations for the final battles.
• The Master of Mankind (Horus Heresy XLI) by Aaron Dembski-Bowden
  • Explores the Emperor’s perspective and his efforts to protect humanity. The novel portrays the Emperor in a less flattering light, revealing his complexities and flaws. It’s essential reading for understanding the broader motivations behind the Heresy.
• Ruinstorm (Horus Heresy XLVI) by David Annandale
  • Continues the journey of the Blood Angels, Ultramarines, and Dark Angels towards Terra. The book blends horror elements with strategic warfare. It explains key events leading to the final battles of the Heresy.
• The Burden of Loyalty (Horus Heresy XLVIII) Anthology
  • Includes the notable story "Perpetual" by Dan Abnett, which fills in gaps in the overarching narrative. The anthology provides valuable background and character development. It’s recommended for its diverse and enriching tales.
• Wolfsbane (Horus Heresy XLIX) by Guy Haley
  • Focuses on Leman Russ and the Space Wolves, detailing their confrontation with Horus. The novel also explores the origins of Belisarius Cawl. It’s a mixed read but essential for fans of the Space Wolves.
• Slaves to Darkness (Horus Heresy LI) by John French
  • A crucial book where Horus gathers the traitor primarchs for the final assault on Terra. The novel features intense interactions and political maneuvers among the traitors. It’s highly recommended for its plot significance and character dynamics.
• The Solar War (Siege of Terra I) by John French
  • The first book in the Siege of Terra series, marking the beginning of the end. It covers Horus’s entry into the Solar System and the initial stages of the siege. The book is praised for its epic scope and character callbacks.
• The Lost and the Damned (Siege of Terra II) by Guy Haley
  • Chronicles the landing of Horus’s forces on Terra and the ensuing battles. It features a wide array of characters and perspectives. The novel is noted for its dramatic and intense scenes.
• The First Wall (Siege of Terra III) by Gav Thorpe
  • Focuses on the battle for the Lion’s Gate spaceport. While it introduces interesting subplots, the main event is the fierce combat. It’s a detailed account of one of the critical points in the siege.
• Saturnine (Siege of Terra IV) by Dan Abnett
  • The standout book in the Siege of Terra series, delivering high-stakes action and character-driven drama. Abnett balances multiple storylines and provides significant payoffs. It’s the most acclaimed book in the series so far for its epic and emotional depth.
• Mortis (Siege of Terra V) by John French
  • This book continues the Siege of Terra series, focusing on the Titan warfare as the forces of Horus clash with the defenders of Terra. The story is marked by large-scale battles and intense mech combat. It delves into the strategic and personal stakes of the siege.
• Warhawk (Siege of Terra VI) by Chris Wraight
  • The narrative centers on the White Scars and their Primarch, Jaghatai Khan, during the siege. It highlights their efforts to break through Horus’s lines and support the defense of Terra. The book combines high-octane action with moments of deep character insight.
• Echoes of Eternity (Siege of Terra VII) by Aaron Dembski-Bowden
  • This installment brings the Siege of Terra closer to its climax. It explores the psychological and physical toll of the siege on both attackers and defenders. The book features intense battles and significant character moments as the endgame approaches.
• THE END AND THE DEATH I, II, III
  • For some reason this one got lost in my copy pasting of notes but obviously I've read it lol
• The End and the Death: Volume I (Siege of Terra VIII) by Dan Abnett
  • The first volume of the concluding trilogy, it delves into the final days of the Siege of Terra, showcasing the escalating desperation and intensity of the conflict. Key events and turning points are detailed, setting the stage for the ultimate confrontation.
• The End and the Death: Volume II (Siege of Terra IX) by Dan Abnett
  • Continuing from Volume I, this book pushes the narrative toward its inevitable conclusion. The battles grow fiercer, and the stakes higher, as both sides prepare for the final showdown. The depth of character development and the grim realities of war are further explored.
• The End and the Death: Volume III (Siege of Terra X) by Dan Abnett
  • The final volume brings the Siege of Terra to its dramatic and conclusive end. The climax of the Horus Heresy unfolds, revealing the ultimate fates of the key characters and the future of the Imperium. This book is expected to deliver a powerful and emotional resolution to the epic saga.
• Eisenhorn trilogy by Dan Abnett
  • Follows the Inquisitor Gregor Eisenhorn as he navigates the treacherous politics of the Imperium and battles heresy. The trilogy is a blend of detective noir and dark sci-fi, showcasing Eisenhorn’s moral struggles and his fight against corruption. It’s highly regarded for its deep character development and immersive world-building.
  • "Xenos"
  • "Malleus"
  • "Hereticus"
• Night Lords trilogy by Aaron Dembski-Bowden
  • Chronicles the exploits of the Night Lords Chaos Space Marines. The trilogy delves into the lives of these renegade warriors, revealing their brutal tactics and fractured psyches. It’s praised for its gritty atmosphere and complex, morally ambiguous characters.
  • "Soul Hunter"
  • "Blood Reaver"
  • "Void Stalker"
• The Infinite and the Divine by Robert Rath
  • Focuses on the Necron Overlords Trazyn the Infinite and Orikan the Diviner. The story is filled with dark humor and epic clashes as the two immortals vie for dominance and artifacts across the galaxy. It provides a unique perspective on the 40K universe through the eyes of the ancient and enigmatic Necrons.
• Valdor: Birth of the Imperium by Chris Wraight
  • This novel explores the origins and rise of Constantin Valdor, the Emperor’s Chief Custodian. It sheds light on the formative years of the Imperium and Valdor’s role in shaping its future. The book is noted for its rich lore and exploration of the early days of the Emperor’s reign.
• Vaults of Terra series by Chris Wraight
  • Follows the investigations of Inquisitor Erasmus Crowl and his acolyte Spinoza on Terra. The series uncovers deep secrets and conspiracies within the heart of the Imperium. It combines mystery, political intrigue, and action, offering a detailed look at the inner workings of the Emperor’s domain.
  • "The Carrion Throne"
  • "The Hollow Mountain"
  • "The Dark City"

Lastly, for anyone wanting to replicate the pace of this readthrough: it's Audiobooks.

Anyone who says it's not reading is stupid.
I've physically read 51 books in a year once as a personal challenge. I love reading. But it takes TIME. Time I don't have while working full time and looking after family and home. If it's a choice between 60-70 audiobooks a year or no physical books (which you can still read if you like): which do you think is going to be better for your brain.
Typical audiobook is 12 hours long or less.
I will listen when I'm cooking, cleaning, showering.
That's 30 minutes minimum every day just from that. I listen at 2.3x speed. So I can get through 6 hours in 12 days even if I only listen in those times. That would be 30 books a year from 30 minutes a day there alone. Add in while lifting, painting, travelling, doing menial work.... My best was 5 books in one week of lots of work travel and hotel stays.
No one ever regretted reading too many books.

It’s been days since I was first admitted. I’ve lost count to be honest, several weeks have probably passed. The thing is, I was never given any reason why, which is madly frustrating. So I do my best not to think about it. I have my own room with a sink. Say nothing and keep a low profile. I’m already up to 100 push-ups and 100 sit-ups daily now. I only work out when they aren’t watching and keep biding my time. My goal is to escape this asylum plain and simple. I’ve got to find my son.
I was able to pilfer a bar of soap, plastic knife, and some black shoe polish. I’ve been working on carving the bar to resemble a small hand gun. I keep it all under the mattress. I’ll need an edge when I make my break. It’s gotten to the point where I can hide their pills under my tongue, then wash them down the drain after they leave.
This place is quite strange, for instance I can’t read any of the text, the characters all look like gibberish to me. There’s other things as well but that’s one of the main things I’ve noticed. The attendants have a strange accent I can’t make out, it’s nothing I’ve ever heard before.
Last night I heard a cat at my window, meowing. I woke and watched it walking back and forth along the ledge on the outside. The cat looks just like my Sophie, sure I know that sounds crazy. Black as coal and quite a big cat, pressing her head against the glass from time to time. It lifted my spirits… sometimes it’s the small things that really matter.
Today there was something different, the attendant that brings my meals told me I’m up for a psychiatric review with their chief resident doctor, Kitchens. He smiled when he told me, in a nice way and told me not to be nervous, it’s routine. I’d never met her before, so I had no idea what to expect. It could be good or bad, and I’d wager the latter.
The next day there were two attendants that came to get me just after the first bell, both quite large men. I’m 6’ 4", so I suppose they wanted to be careful. One of them had a baton tucked in the top of his white pants, the handle looked well worn. "Be good and you’ve got nothing to worry about here." the other attendant told me. They led me out of my cell, one on either side. I immediately realized I was the sole ward in this wing. My room was at the far end of the hallway leading to the steel bars at the junction. No other cells, save mine.
The gate slid open and we crossed the portal over to the other side. "Her office is over here." said the armed attendant. The door was open, and as they led me inside I saw a wooden chair with thick leather straps sitting in front of a desk. "Sit down." he said. "We’ve got to restrain you since it’ll be just you and her." I sat very still and then they strapped down my wrists and ankles. It wasn’t uncomfortable but I could tell I wasn’t going anywhere.
"Hello." I heard the doctor’s voice behind me. She came to my side for a moment then went and sat down behind the desk. She looked to be in her mid forties and had a mane of stark white hair pulled back tight in a bun. The doctor wore wire frame glasses with thick bifocal lenses. There was a wooden metronome sitting on the desk and she leaned over to start the metal pendulum swinging back and forth. Each time the pendulum reached its zenith there was a slight audible click.
She told me this was to be my first evaluation. She wanted me to help me progress so I could eventually leave and return to a normal life again. Her voice had a queer cadence that seemed to match the rhythm of the metronome. It was hard at times not to fall into a trance as her soft words continued to tumble off the top of her pink tongue. She talked and talked as those hard green eyes of hers were constantly staring deep into mine, never once blinking.
Kitchens asked me why I was so quiet. Involuntarily I smiled and looked back, then I felt myself nodding off. The sound of the metronome instantly brought me back out of the brief stupor and now the dim light from the overhead lamp seemed just a bit softer. The doctor was smiling back at me, her perfect white teeth partially hidden by the pale thin lips. She wouldn’t look half bad with some makeup.
My palms began to itch, try as I might to ignore the eerie sensation. There was a warning bubbling up from my subconscious, Kitchens asked me to tell her all about myself. It felt like she was invading my mind now, slowly breaking down the last of my mental barriers. Finally I spoke "Evaluation…" I said. "It’s more like an interrogation." I coughed and immediately a drop of bright red blood spilt from one of her thin nostrils, splatting against some paper spread out on top of the desk. She frowned for the first time and suddenly the metronome came to a stark halt. Now it felt like her mental intrusion had at last come to a stop. I smiled again then she passed out.
I sat there in silence for quite some time waiting to see what would next happen. Finally I heard the door open and the attendant with the tucked baton entered the room. He went over to the desk and gently propped the doctor’s head back, then he turned to look at me. "Stone walling her, aren’t you?" he asked and seemed agitated. I said nothing and slightly dropped my head so our eyes didn’t meet. "Back to your room now." he said and the other attendant entered.
They lead me back to my room, one attendant on either side. I maintained my docile manner, head down, shuffling my slippered feet. Once I was locked in the kind attendant remained for a brief while. He told me I’d get a good dinner this evening and smiled, it actually looked genuine. "Thanks mate." I said. I saw the shock his face, it was the first time I had spoke to either of them since I’d been there.
I immediately took out the cell phone I pilfered after they left. I had managed to snag it off Kitchens’ desk while the attendants were busy unstrapping me. The mobile device was fully charged and I had lots of time to while away before dinner time. It was very difficult to use because I couldn’t recognize any of the characters displayed on the screen, however I was able to figure out how to invoke the AI assistant since it would respond to my voice commands.
The things I quickly learned interrogating the phone amazed me. There was definitely something very odd about this place, this very world. Eventually I found the site linked to the asylum, NüWorld. Funnily enough there was no mention of the asylum, the main advertisement basically stated that for the right price you could live the fantasy life you always dreamed of having. I had no idea what that had to do with me being here.
I decided this evening I had to make my break. Dinner would be served at 6 PM and anything leftover retrieved an hour later. There was only the two attendants as far as I knew and it would be evening by 7 PM. Dinner was served via the long slot in the lower half of the door to my room by the kind attendant. Having no hunger I put it aside and removed the bulbs from the lamp atop the ceiling while standing on top of the bed. I would use the pillow case as a sack to carry the cellphone since my simple clothes had no pockets.
The other attendant returned right on time to collect the dinner tray. "Put it through!" he yelled. I remained silent, waiting beside the door, then there came the click of the tumblers as he put the key into the keyhole and turned it. Slowly the door began to open a bit. "Where are you?" he asked gruffly, still standing outside in the hallway. A moment passed then he pushed the door open and took a step inside, while I remained still, hidden behind the door. I waited, listening to his heavy breathing while he came forward some more into the darkness inside. Springing out at full speed I charged straight into the attendant, knocking him hard against the far wall, then I got behind him and stuck the barrel of my fake pistol underneath his chin. I hugged him tight round his waist with my other arm. "Make one wrong move and I’ll blow your brains out." I whispered into his ear. "Drop the baton right now." I then told him, to which he immediately complied. After I heard the baton hit the floor I took the twine I had fashioned from one end of the bed spread, wrapping it tightly around his neck with both hands. The attendant struggled hard but could not break free as I continued to squeeze, listening to him gag and rasp. Finally he dropped to his knees and keeled over, having passed out. Pulling the twine loose I tied his hands snuggly behind his back and wrapped the blanket around his head, careful so that he could still breathe.
I took the key chain from his belt and entered the hallway. There was no sign of anyone else, so I crept down the hallway to the gate. Other than my recent trip to meet Kitchens this was my furthest outing within the mental institution. Looking past the steel bars it appeared there was doorway leading to the outside just across the inner sanctum. One key after another I attempted to open the lock until finally there came the satisfying sound of the click.
I looked all around and listened while slowly opening the gate. No one was around so I went to the doorway leading out. It was unlocked and I stepped outside into the night, closing the door behind me. Fresh snow had recently fallen and it was very cold. Using the cellphone again I opened a map for the immediate area. It was then I felt something rubbing against one of my legs and heard the sound of soft purring. I looked down to see the black cat standing beside me. It rubbed against me some more then ran over to the edge of the parking lot when I bent over to pet the feline. The cat mewed at me, looking up into my eyes.
I put the cellphone away and instinctively began to follow the cat. It ran beside a parked truck and waited for me there. Inside the vehicle was a hooded winter jacket, which I took out and put on. The cat jumped onto the seat and purred again. I got inside the cab behind the steering wheel and searched through the keys until I found a car key. The engine ignited the first crank and I put the transmission in drive. Next I turned on the heater and backed out of the parking spot. There was only one road, which I took and we were on our way. I looked back one final time at the asylum, very happy to see it from the rearview mirror.
I waited until I was well past the building before turning on the headlights. The immediate area was heavily wooded and a pale full moon loomed overhead. Driving several miles of twisting roadway we finally reached the entrance to the highway. I had placed the cellphone on the middle of the bench between myself and the cat. I heard a sharp chime from the mobile device and looked down to see the cat had placed one of its paws on the screen of the phone. Picking it up I realized the map had zoomed into an area not too far ahead on the highway. The cursor was blinking, pointing at an exit marked number 13. This was the first time I could actually read any of the characters and it was a great feeling.
I turned onto the highway, heading towards the exit. The black cat lay upon the bench, intently watching me as I drove. There were few other vehicles on the highway. We made good time, reaching the exit after several minutes had passed since leaving the road to the asylum. I pulled over onto the curb, noticing the egress had been blocked off with several large orange barrels. I turned off the engine and got out, followed by the cat. The feline ran past the barrels and looked back at me, mewing again.
I followed her, leaving the warmth of the truck behind. I began to feel quite dizzy and my breath grew short as I weaved my way through the barrels. For a moment it felt like I was dissolving, it was the strangest sensation, and right at that very moment the cat leapt up my shoulder, gently nudging her head against my cheek. The weird sensation then quickly passed.
Standing still I placed my hands on my knees and shook my head vigorously, fighting to recall my last memory prior to being incarcerated within the asylum. My memories were dark and murky. The first image finally to spring to mind was my son, again I knew I had to find him. Next I remembered my last case as a personal bodyguard, which had been my most current profession. There was the case of the lost triplets, two of the young sisters were reported missing, one after another. I had been hired to protect the remaining one. This memory was very painful and brought about intense feelings of frustration and rage. Try as I might I could not remember any details regarding initially having been incarcerated.
Loudly the cat meowed, shaking me from searching for my memories. Quickly she jumped back down and ran forward along the closed road beyond the exit, and I followed. The exit road looped around, leading me into a town hidden by thick groves of tall oak trees running along the sides of the highway. The immediate area was composed of buildings surrounding a small lake. The moon was directly overhead now and its rippling image shone upon the surface of the dark water. This place seemed familiar but I could not remember where I was.
The feline led me to the rear of one of the close by buildings. She rubbed up against a door, which I turned the knob and it opened. We both went inside, then I closed the door behind us. Thankfully it was warm, however the lights were all off. I pulled the cellphone out of my cloth sack and enabled the flashlight function. The small bright lamp revealed a leather couch beside the far wall, where I went and sat down. Immediately I felt heavy waves of tiredness rolling through me and my sight began to grow dim. I laid down and just as I was falling asleep I felt the cat climb on top of me, rubbing one its cheeks against my face and purring.
I awoke after a long deep slumber. The cellphone battery was dead now since I had not thought to turn off the flashlight. My first thought upon awakening was that I needed to move. Someone would have, if not already found the truck and the service provider for the cellphone can reveal the last location after it has been switched off. The black cat was sitting over in a corner grooming itself. Against my better judgement I uttered the name Sophie. Immediately the cat stopped grooming and inquisitively looked up at me. That’s not to say it was my cat, how would that even be possible, the situation totally freaked me out.
Running my fingers through my long hair I took a deep breath and tried to relax. It had been ages since my last haircut, and I had grown a long beard as well. Sliding the dead phone under the couch, I got up and stretched. The cat came up beside me. It let me reach down and pet her head. Sophie had been a gift from my ex-girlfriend, Cindy, whom had given her to me when she was still just a tiny little kitten. I could feel her wet fur as I ran my fingertips along her back. Cindy had once said black cats are often the reincarnations of witches, she was really into that kind of thing, which I had always found weird. Sophie seemed to only have ever liked me, much to Cindy’s chagrin.
I felt hungry, having skipped dinner last night. The cat and I searched through the vacant building but we didn’t find anything to eat, however there was a water fountain, which I shared with the cat. Pausing for a moment after the refreshment I looked out one of the windows in the front of the building. Suddenly some memories came flooding back and I remembered this place... this was the very town where I lived! I thought back to the past evening when I last used the map on the cellphone. I distinctly remember this town did not appear beyond the exit, so strange indeed.
Looking out I could see it was early morning. The streets outside were still empty. I sat back down to examine the contents of the winter jacket I had absconded. There was a billfold with some money in an inner pocket, how convenient I chuckled to myself.

Warning: huge spoiler alert ahead for book 3 The White Rose! I'm marking the worst parts as spoiler text but please don't read this if you haven't finished the first trilogy yet.
Toward the end of book 3, the Lady reveals that she has another character's true name. And unless I'm terribly mistaken, I don't believe it's explained how she got that information.
So how do you imagine she learned it?
For all these years I envisioned that she sent out sly, silver-tongued Imperial agents like so many baby spiders on the wind to question and quiz the peasants of Forsberg until they got the name.
But then someone here on the sub put forward the idea that she and Darling intentionally exchanged this information with one another during their private meeting on the Plain of Fear (that meeting where Croaker's memories were erased). At first I was incredulous about that, but over time I accepted it as a plausible possibility, because the Lady was dealing with three prognostications for her future and was trying to orchestrate the one in which she survived albeit without power.
I'm interested if anyone has additional explanations!

Breastfeeding has been a complete uphill slog in waist deep mud from the very beginning and it’s all I really had a strong preference for in the months leading up to birth. I had no explicit birth plan except for delayed cord clamping and observing the golden hour- no deep desires for things to be done a specific way- I just wanted to feed and nourish my baby with my body. There’s a lot of backstory to this- bear with me.
First, the goal that I hope to achieve: Pump when at work only or when I choose to to build up stash for home and daycare. No supplemental feeding of formula if possible- when together breast only, when apart expressed breast milk. Would like to lose the shield.
I feel like our journey was doomed from the start. His birth and subsequent hospital stay was pretty awful to be honest. I was induced at 37 weeks for hypertension. I went in not dilated, not thinned out, and just not physically ready to have a baby three weeks early. I have really bad anxiety and always knew birth would be a huge triggering event but I wasn’t prepared for how out of control it spiraled and how much it would impact everything about the birthing process. I had vaginal mesoprostal, tried the cervcal ripening balloon but hated it and had them take it out almost immediately, a pitocin drip that caused my contractions to come too hard and fast so they shut it off and gave me fluids to slow them down. I walked, I bounced, I got in the tub and my brain fought my body the whole way. I kept panicking when they offered therapies to speed things along and waited too long for most interventions before I gave in and listened to the experts. I got the epidural about 24 hours after arrival but I was only about 1cm dilated. I was given some anxiety medicine and left to try to sleep as best I could. Fast forward to the next afternoon- I finally let them break my water, got to 10cm and started to push. At this point I had started to get some sensation back in my abdomen and it very quickly came all the way back. They called in anesthesia to give me a bolus and it worked for a bit. Then stopped again. I got one more bolus and was told they couldn’t do anymore. No one had told me they could only guarantee the effectiveness of the epidural for 24 hours. I was in so much pain as the epidural finally completely wore off in my abdomen (my legs were slower coming back) and I started to vomit from the force of my pushing and the pain of contractions. Guess who has a phobia of vomit?! My anxiety was through the roof. I managed to push for an hour in various positions and promptly decided fuck this shit and stopped pushing for another hour. My anxiety won that round. Not my wisest decision but I was thinking with my primal lizard brain not my fully developed frontal lobe. I finally got my shit together and pushed for another hour and a half and he just would not come down the birth canal. The midwife called in the big guns and the OB tried a vacuum assist. He would move but again, not enough to come down to be born. At this point I’ve been pushing for 3 hours, feeling every bit of it, heaving between contractions after every push and I begged them to help me somehow. The OB called a c-section finally. At this point I’m so exhausted from not sleeping, anxiety, no food for 24+ hours, vomiting, and attempted child birth that I fell asleep on the operating table while they removed him. (Come to find out he was sunny side up and well and truly stuck. He wasn’t able to tuck his chin and it kept getting stuck on my pubic bone.)
Back to birth- he comes out in all his bloody glory and let out the tiniest little mewl I’ve ever heard. Per the notes from his team of doctors they take him away for more stimulation, have to resuscitate him, throw him on a cpap and then promptly diagnose him with a grade III/IV heart murmur that no one had caught in utero. They tried to take him out of the operating room to the NICU without even letting my husband and I see him. They put my insides back and I am literally exhausted and passed out on the table. I don’t remember much.
Next thing I know I’m waking up i a new room (NICU) and it’s 4:30 in the morning and all sorts of alarms are going off. A nurse comes in, shuts his alarm down and all of a sudden 2 more come in after her. They’re alls standing around his medical bassinet speaking in hurried whispers. I finally get someone to tell me what’s going on- he’s vomited fluid, choked/aspirated, his oxygen saturation tanked and he turned blue. They had to deep suction him twice to get him back to baseline. It’s at this point I’m coherent enough to find out about his heart problem. They weren’t sure how bad it was in terms of structural issues but the head NICU doctor said it sounded like a washing machine and our son needed an echo to determine what was actually happening. He had an IV in his wrist for a continuous glucose drip because he wasn’t allowed to eat anything in case he needed emergent surgery. Apparently they were telling my husband they may need to ship him down to Mass General (an hour away) and he’d need to go with them and leave me alone at the hospital etc. I asked the nurse if I would be allowed to hold him at some point. I was so scared. She acted like, oh, duh! You haven’t held him yet- here let me help! I clearly didn’t get the golden hour I wanted considering he was born at 9:44pm. It wss a full 8 hours after birth before I held my son. He didn’t get to go directly to breast. He didn’t get to do a lot of things. I feel like this was the start of our difficult breast feeding journey.
He was finally cleared and allowed to come off the IV drip, oxygen removed, and I was allowed to start feeding him. I had no colostrum in so they syringe fed him donor milk while setting me up with a pump. I got a quick crash course on how to use the pump and a schedule to follow. I was exhausted still and slept through some pumping times. I finally started getting colostrum which the nurses would rub in his mouth. He wouldn’t latch when put to breast, he just kind of laid there. We tried a nipple shield (I have flat nipples) and that didn’t entice him either. He was very out of it for days after birth- some of which the doctors attributed to me being on Celexa my whole pregnancy. I kept pumping, kept trying to put him to breast but nothing happened. We were finally discharged from the hospital when he was 4 days old. He was born 6lbs8oz and weighed 6lbs1oz the day after discharge from the hospital at our first lactation appointment. I was told to do triple feedings at home and keep trying. We started supplementing with formula because we couldn’t afford donor milk from the hospital and I wasn’t pumping enough to keep him satisfied. I’m not going to lie- I let some pumping slide because I was so exhausted trying to recover from the c-section and he needed to be fed and triple feedings are hell. I was also waiting for some electric pump parts to arrive. Eventually I gave up on putting him to breast and just pumped and supplemented.
My friend encouraged me to try breastfeeding again one night when he was 4 weeks old. I figured I had nothing to lose and I was certain he wouldn’t. Imagine my surprise when he latched on with the nipple shield! I kept trying for a few hours to make sure it wasn’t a fluke and then called lactation the next morning to get an appointment. It took a few days but I finally got one and we did a weighted feed and he took a half ounce from my breasts. I was back to triple feeding and trying to better establish my supply. I still hated pumping and he was still trying to figure out how to feed. The lactation nurse said that it’s common for 37weekers to be bad at feeding and sometimes they just need to develop a little more and they’ll figure it out. I had high hopes.
The following week at lactation he did better- he took over an ounce and a half from my breast. We worked on latch and positioning and I felt confident it would improve. I bought Body Armor and wanted to get my supply up. I was still only pumping about an ounce each side after feeding. The most I ever got was 1.75ounces per breast during a pump session. Then little man decided he wanted to sleep for 4-5 hours at a time randomly for a few days and I let him. I was so tired and I needed the sleep too. I’m pretty sure that fucked my supply up even more.
Now this week- my husband has covid, the peds office said to stay away from dad so little guy and I are struggling through. Single mothers without help- I applaud you. This sucks. Again, doing my best but I’ve only got two arms, my electric pump has a broken piece so I was relying on my hand pump while waiting for that part to arrive and I’m doing what I can to stay afloat. This was supposed to be my week to live on a 3 hour schedule, eat and drink heartily, and get my milk flowing but I haven’t showered in days and all of a sudden he won’t latch to my breast again and is super fussy. I’m at my wits end, crying from frustration and my inability to have help because we’re all exposed so no one can come over and my husband is in the thick of it and can’t help and my son and I are trapped in my bedroom. Then he starts fussing with the bottle. I’m sideways and don’t know what to do. During one of his hunger meltdowns I notice his tongue is white, like really white. I call the peds because I was pretty sure he has thrush. Fantastic. Get the meds for that and it’s like magic- different baby. He latched at the breast and then took a bottle like a champ! Now I’m waiting for my cream to arrive for my nipples and I honestly don’t know where to go from here. (I’ve read so many horror stories that thrush is damn near impossible to get rid of for some families and I’m afraid it’s going to impact our breastfeeding even more.)
We live in an apartment that’s being sold, we’re moving starting next week. I need to up my supply, I need to eat and hydrate more consistently, I need to latch him and triple feed, and I go back to work in 2 more weeks. Is this even doable? Do I keep pushing on? I don’t know where to really start or how to go forward. Is my goal even attainable? Can someone just give me a clear concise plan to reach my goal? Or words of encouragement. God I just want to feed my baby.

I was 99.9% sure I was going to throw up.
Two milkshakes down.
Strawberry and chocolate. I downed them both as soon as I sat down, and now my stomach was making some very interesting noises I had to cough over.
The lady sitting in the booth in front of me kept twisting around, shooting me odd looks.
I just stuck out my tongue, slurping up the dregs of my shake. I had a feeling her dirty looks had zero to do with the whale noises coming from my gut.
The Middleview Four were yet to find the five missing kids who disappeared a few days prior, and the town were getting a little… antsy. I mean, it's their fault they put their trust in four middle schooler's.
I barely knew what a stem cell was, and I had to hunt down a serial kidnapper?
The sheriff was being an asshole as always.
He wouldn't let us anywhere near the case files, so we had hit a dead end.
All we had were Aris’s meagre notes, and a lead that was probably bullshit.
The girls were more optimistic, and Aris wanted to believe every lead actually got us somewhere, but I was leaning more towards bullshit, on account of our witness being an eight year old kid.
The residents of Middleview, however, think we’re slacking off. I do like to remind them that we’re not their protectors. They can't freak out and treat us like dirt when we can't solve a case. We started solving Middleview crimes and bringing the town’s criminals to justice because it was fun.
However, what started as hunting down missing cats and being kind of kidnapped, but not really by unhinged old people, the four of us had come to realize our idealistic town was far darker than we thought. The people in our town wore masks. Even the ones we were supposed to trust. We had come face to face with drug dealing janitor's, murderous teachers, and even some sicko who turned his crimes into art.
Which made our declaration to protect the townspeople a little harder to fulfil.
How were we supposed to know kids would start being murdered out of nowhere?
The sheriff's department were all braindead morons, so it was up to us, four thirteen year olds, to save a town that was quickly becoming more and more polluted. Even the sky was darker.
It was summer, and there was barely any sun.
The lady behind me was still glaring at me from behind her coffee cup, so I stuck up my middle finger.
It was summer vacation!
I was supposed to be at the town lake, or playing video games with my friends.
Instead, I had been burdened with the impossible task of protecting a town that terrified me.
When we found our first body, I vomited all over myself.
It was getting progressively harder to call this fun.
“Noah Prestley.”
The lady cleared her throat, and to my annoyance, the chatter around us dulled to a low murmur.
I didn't turn around, stirring my shake into a thick sludge. I did pull my baseball cap further over my face.
Marin was right.
I should have been wearing raybans.
She did propose we wore them, but I laughed in her face.
She got all butthurt, and I poked her, which annoyed her even more.
“What do we need to hide from?” I had teased three days earlier. “Angry mobs?”
Six hours later, a fourth child went missing from her yard.
Now, all eyes were on us.
Literally. Aris texted me and told me a white van was stalking his house.
May got attacked by a hysterical parent, and Marin was getting threatening letters in her mailbox.
“Noah!”
The woman shouted my name again, and I jumped, ducking my head.
“Uh... yeah?”
I lifted my head, a shiver sliding down my spine, phantom bugs filling my mouth.
It had been exactly sixteen days, four hours, and how-ever-many seconds, since I was almost gutted by Lady Thorn. The only people who knew about it were Marin, Aris, and May.
These people didn't care that I almost fucking died.
They don't care that I still had marks around my wrists from the rope burn.
They were selfish, entitled brats, and I was supposed to be the brat!
I could already feel an uncomfortable heat spreading across my face, my hands going into my lap. I hated when they looked at me like that.
So many faces, so many judgemental eyes burning into me with the exact same question that a thirteen year old shouldn't have to answer.
“Where are our children?”
“They're…” I chewed my lip, maintaining a strained smile.
“Some... where…?”
The look on the woman's face told me my response wasn't the reassurance she wanted. In fact, this six foot something lady looked ready to swing a punch. Aris was going to murder me before any Middleview criminal.
His exact words were, Don't antagonise them. They're scared and they want answers. Just smile and wave.
I could still hear the idiot’s laugh.
”Like the penguins in Madagascar!”
I was aware I was slowly sinking into my seat.
Aris wasn't here, though. I tried to smile and wave, but I was just grimacing, and even worse, I was aware I was grimacing. I looked like a total a-hole.
“I’m on a break!” I finally snapped, pent up frustration and nerves shattering my patience. When heads quickly twisted back around, I found my confidence, holding up my empty shake. They could glare at me all they wanted, but these people weren't going to say it to my face.
I choked out a laugh. “I'm sorry, am I not allowed to relax?”

"We are called, summoned to appear before two pathways. On the one, we hear Messaien and the musical messages of peace. On the other, Gavreau and the musical messages of war. And again we choose. And again we must choose. Whose music will it be?"
full text >>> http://www.zemos98.org/controlsonoro/2008/03/09/the-sonic-weapon-of-vladimir-gavreau/

Lost Science” by Gerry Vassilatos Limited permission granted to use this material in other presentations. ISBN 0-932813-75-5 © 1999
SIGNALS
He listened and closed his eyes as the rolling waves of sound poured over and through his being. Thrilling, intoxicating, the hysteria of heaven, the enthralled and frightening flight of angels. Electrifying. Messaien’s organ music signaled messages of meaning, titanic foghorns ululating among dimly perceived near-worlds. Olivier Messaien, master composer of musical expressionism, used the ground thrumming tones of great Parisian cathedral organs to evoke sensations, which may only be called otherworldly. Masterfully macabre. Black foundations, blue pillars, and rainbow ceilings.
Sound, rhythm, and space. Ultra-chromatic chord frames, rising like rock walls from the black depths. And immense stellar crystallizations, radiating tonal perfumes through deep and black radiant space. Lovely and lyrically swooping melodies, the flight of birds through delicate limbs. And melodic lines, reaching up toward unknown depths of space, each had their foundation in ultra bass tones of rooted depth. The basso profunda of Messaien are the critical foundations, the strong vertical pillars of an immense architecture, which extends beyond performance walls. He scoured the deep and unreachable roots of worlds to hold his musical cathedrals together. Such majesty and grandeur of sound! Rich in the intelligence, which flooded and made the world, the musical currents and the atmosphere of tones. Fluidic music and meaning.
The most fundamental signals, which permeate this world, are inaudible. They not only surpass our hearing, but they undergird our being. Natural infrasounds rumble through experience daily. There manifestations are fortunately infrequent and incoherent. Infrasound is inaudible to human hearing, being of pitch below 15 cycles per second. The bottom human limit. The plynth. The foundation. Infrasound is not heard, it is felt. Infrasound holds a terrible secret in its silent roar.
Infrasound produces varied physiological sensations, which begin as vague “irritations”. At certain pitch, infrasound produces physical pressure. At specific low intensity, fear and disorientation. Nazi propaganda engineers methodically used infrasound to stir up the hostilities of crowds who were gathered to hear their madman. The results are historical nightmares.
At a very specific pitch, infrasound explodes matter. At others, infrasound incapacitates and kills. Organisms rupture in its blast. Sea creatures use this power to stun and kill prey.
The swelling bass tones of the cathedral seem as though they can burst the very pillars, which uphold the ancient vaults. Stained glass windows have been known to erupt in a shower of colored fragments from the organ’s basso profunda. Impulsed ultrabass tones … thunder. Somewhere in the almost inaudible roll of these basement sounds there was a devastating and fearful power.
THUNDER
As thunderous tones deepen, their power seemingly intensifies over frail barriers such as glass windows. Certain abrupt thunder peals often shatter windows into tiny fragments. In the apparent absence of thunderous tones we may observe the strong and continuous vibration of glass windowpanes during storms. A sudden eerie silence, and the window is shattered before our eyes. Natural phenomena are prodigious generators of infrasound. The potent distal effects produced when natural explosions occur produce legendary effects. When Krakatoa exploded, windows were shattered hundreds of miles away by the infrasonic wave. Wind was not the causative agent of these occurrences, as no wind was felt or detected. Seismographic stations registered the blast, and barometers measured the shockwaves. The “ringing” of both earth and atmosphere continued for hours. It is believed that infrasound actually formed the upper pitch of this natural volcanic explosion, tones unmeasurably deep forming the actual “central harmonic” of the event. The island of Krakatoa was literally lifted into orbit in the fatal blast. Brilliant sunsets followed for many years thereafter, the sad memorial of all the souls who perished.
The power of explosives, in shattering and devastating property, lies in two zones. The first zone is that with which we are principally familiar; the actual blast site, where chemically released gases and metal fragments push back everything in their perimeter. The second less familiar zone extends very much further from the blast site than can be imagined. It is in the powerful sonic wave, which expands outward that an equally destructive danger lies. Thick pressure walls of incredible momentum, inters paced with equally thick walls of reduced air pressure, travel far away from the blast site. The blast site is the small destructive zone by comparison. Few objects can survive this destructive tide.
Analysts contend that infrasound is composed of a very broad band of pitches. These tones of immense pressure and duration “accommodate” themselves when encountering resonant cavities. All such resonant cavities are “found and destroyed” when the proper pressure waves flow into their resonances. Rooms, halls, alleys, spaces among buildings, courtyard areas, cellars, subways, sewer chambers; all these burst open into flying fragments when infrasonic waves flood them. Infrasound is the cruel tonal giant, tearing open whatever it finds in its path.
Study reveals that the sudden shock wave of an explosion propels a complex infrasonic signal far beyond the shattered perimeter. Incoherent though such shockwaves may be, their destructive influence dissolves distant walls and windows seconds after the shrapnel has done its deadly work. Objects of all shapes, sizes, and compositions explode when the infrasonic impulse passes through their space. No shield can block infrasound. Physicists have studied the refuse, which remains after an explosive charge has been detonated. Few materials can maintain their integrity. Those objects, which manage to survive explosions, are noteworthy as infrasonic “resistors”. Screen reinforced concrete does not easily succumb to the infrasonic blasts of explosive charges.
EARTHQUAKE
The sound of Krakatoa exploding up into space, a vertical excess of one hundred miles, succeeded in blasting out windows at a thousand mile radius from the epicenter. Certain earthquake activities produce large and virtually insensate vertical displacements of the ground surface, in extreme instances amounting to a few feet per pulse. In this case, the ground becomes the surface of a drum, ringing out its deadly cadence at infrasonic pitch hours before the event. The ground undulates with infrasonic tones, an elasticity that eventually cracks under the heaving stress.
Ultra low pitch earthquake sounds are keenly felt by animals and sensitive humans. Quakes occur in distinct stages. Long before the final breaking release of built up earth tensions, there are numerous and succinct precursory shocks. Deep shocks produce strong infrasonic impulses up to the surface, the result of massive heaving ground strata. Certain animals (fish) actually can hear infrasonic precursors. Precursory shocks are silent, being inaudible in humans. Animals, however, react strongly to the sudden surface assault of infrasonic shocks by attempting escape from the area. Animals cannot locate the source and center of these infrasonic impulses, behaving in a pitiful display of circular frenzies. The careening motion of wild horses and other domestic animals indicates their fear and anxiety. Poor creatures, neither they nor we can escape the infrasonic source. Encounters with natural infrasound reveal their vast extent, covering hundreds of square miles of surface area.
Certain animals employ infrasound as weaponry. It has been known that certain whales are able to stun their prey with powerful blasts of inaudible sounds. Called “gunshots”, whales focus these powerful blasts at large squid and other fish to paralyze and catch them. In some instances, they have been known to burst their prey apart by tonal projection alone. Human experience with these inaudible blasts have been reported. The distress calls emitted by little beached whales was sufficient to push a veterinarian back several feet in the water. Others have experienced these pressure waves, reporting that their hands could not be brought close to the sinal area of small whales because of their inaudible acoustic projections.
Infrasonic shocks produce characteristic pressure effects on structures and organisms alike. The sensation flattens the body. It is as if one were struck with a solid invisible wall from which there is no escape. There are physiological effects as well. Anxiety, fear, extreme emotional distress, and mental incapacitation are all part of the unpleasant phenomenon. Notable among human exposures to quake-correlated infrasound is the precursory nausea, which many report. This strong sensation leaves its more sensitive victims helpless. Feeling the momentary deep motion of the ground strata beneath them, numerous individuals have been used to report these sensations in a bizarre earthquake “alarm system”. Unfortunately, physiological reaction to infrasound remains continuous, long after their irritating presence has ceased. The harmfully stimulating influence of infrasound renders physiology permeable and ultrasensitive to every available environmental sensation. The extreme irritability of infrasound victims has been noted.
Earthquake infrasound manifests only at intermittent intervals, producing drastic and sustained negative modifications of consciousness. The human organism continues to reel under intermittent infrasonic assault for numerous reasons. After less than a five-minute exposure to low intensity infrasound of 10 cycles per second, dizziness will last for hours. Infrasound of 12 cycles per second produces severe and long lasting nausea after a brief low intensity exposure.
FLOOD...
.... THE ABYSS
The Cold War was on. The United States alone held the dread secret. The most terrible weapon yet developed was the private property of one government. The mere existence of the atomic bomb was threat to nations whose motives were not entirely altruistic. Motivated, aggressive, and imperialistic, obtaining atomic bomb data was a priority for several nations. The only manner in which some nations obtained the secret was by stealing it. When Stalin’s science officers finally developed an atomic duplicate of the American bomb, pressure suddenly was placed upon every other European nation to achieve an equivalent or better device.
When one seeks to defend one’s borders, the consequences of releasing weapons of devastation to the world do not seem important. Weaponry is death-oriented by nature. But there are moral differences between weapons of defense and weapons of offense. Previous to this atomic proliferation, competing nations concentrated their weapons research on truly bizarre and equally deadly means for defending their national boundaries. A great variety of such deadly weapons were perfected in rapid succession. This included deadly variations and combinations of gas weaponry, pathogenic agents, and radiant weaponry. Stalin’s research teams investigated psychic powers as a possible means for destroying an enemy. Psychotronic warfare was devel­oped among numerous groups, both private and national, with measurable success. Information on some simpler psychotronic weapons has recently been obtained through an increasing process of Soviet disclosure.
In truth, the larger the weaponry the less safe the national boundaries truly were. While the superpowers concentrated their weapons development programs on mass-destructive nuclear weaponry, others focused on more practical conventions. The limited tactical warfare of small battlefields seemed a more immediate need. While developing their own atomic device, France sought defensive tactical weaponry on every possible technological front. Short-range weapons would best defend against a conventional national assault. But other systems were also sought; systems which, though non-nuclear, were equally invincible. As the great Frankish Knight, Charles “the Ham­mer” Martel repelled ruthless invaders from the medieval east, so a new ham­mer would be sought to defend France against possible new enemies from the east. Even as Charles Martel arose from obscurity, so this strange new “hammer” would arise in equal obscurity.
GAVREAU
The central research theme of Dr. Vladimir Gavreau was the development of remote controlled automatons and robotic devices. To this end he assembled a group of scientists in 1957. The group, including Marcel Miane, Henri Saul, and Raymond Comdat, successfully developed a great variety of ro­botic devices for industrial and military purposes. In the course of develop­ing mobile robots for use in battlefields and industrial fields, Dr. Gavreau and his staff made a strange and astounding observation, which, not only interrupted their work, but became their major research theme.
Housed in a large concrete building, the entire group periodically experienced a disconcerting nausea, which flooded the research facility. Day after day, for weeks at a time, the symptoms plagued the researchers. Called to inspect the situation, industrial examiners also fell victim to the malady. It was thought that the condition was caused by pathogens, a “building sick­ness”. No such agencies were ever biologically detected. Yet the condition prevailed. Research schedules now seriously interrupted, a complete exami­nation of the building was called.
The researchers noticed that the mysterious nauseations ceased when cer­tain laboratory windows were blocked. It was then assumed that “chemical gas emissions” of some kind were responsible for the malady, and so a thor­ough search of the building was undertaken. While no noxious fumes could be detected by any technical means, the source was finally traced by building engineers to an improperly installed motor-driven ventilator. The engineers at first thought that this motor might be emitting noxious fumes, possibly evaporated oils and lubricants. But no evaporated products were ever detected. It was found that the loosely poised low speed motor, poised in its cavernous duct of several stories, was developing “nauseating vibrations”.
The mystery magnified for Dr. Gavreau and his team, when they tried to measure the sound intensity and pitch. Failing to register any acoustic readings at all, the team doubted the assessment of the building engineers. Never­theless, closing the windows blocked the sense of nausea. In a step of bril­liant scientific reasoning, Gavreau and his colleagues realized that the sound with which they were dealing was so low in pitch that it could not register on any available microphonic detector. The data was costly to the crew.
They could not pursue the “search” for long time periods. During the very course of tracking the sound down, an accidental direct exposure rendered them all extremely ill for hours. When finally measured, it was found that a low intensity pitch of a fundamental 7 cycles per second was being produced. Furthermore, this infrasonic pitch was not one of great intensity ei­ther. It became obvious that the slow vibrating motor was activating an infra­sonic resonant mode in the large concrete duct. Operating as the vibrating “tongue” of an immense “organ pipe”, the rattling motor produced nauseat­ing infrasound. Coupled with the rest of the concrete building, a cavernous industrial enclosure, the vibrating air column formed a bizarre infrasonic “amplifier”.
Knowledge of this infrasonic configuration also explained why shutting the windows was mildly effective in “blocking the malady”. The windows altered the total resonant profile of the building, shifting the infrasonic pitch and intensity. Since this time, others have noted the personally damaging effects of such infrasonic generation in office buildings and industrial facili­ties. The nauseating effects of exposure to a low intensity natural or manmade infrasonic source is now well appreciated.
It has become a routine architectural procedure to seek out and alter any possible such resonant cavities. The sources often appear in older buildings, the result of construction rendered faulty by previous lack of this knowledge. All such “improper” architectural formats are modified by the additions of sound-blocking materials.
WHISTLES
Dr. Gavreau and his research team now carefully investigated the effects of their “infrasonic organ” at various intensity levels and pitch. Changing the spring tension on shock mounts, which held the fan motor, it was possible to change the pitch. Various infrasonic resonances were established throughout the large research building. Shutting the windows blocked most of the symptoms. When the window was again opened, however weak as the source was made, the team felt the nauseating effects once again. In the business of mili­tary research, Dr. Gavreau believed he had discovered a new and previously “unknown weapon” in these infrasounds. Aware of the natural explosives by which infrasonics are generated, Dr. Gavreau began to speculate on the ap­plication of infrasonics as a defense initiative. The haphazard explosive ef­fects of natural infrasound in thunderclaps were quite effective in demon­strating what an artificial “thunder-maker” could do. But, how could a thun­derclap be artificially generated in a compact system? These thoughts stimu­lated theoretical discussions on the possibility of producing coherent infrasound: an infrasonic “laser”.
The first devices Dr. Gavreau implemented were designed to imitate the “accident” which first made his research group aware of infrasonics. They designed real organ pipes of exceedingly great width and length. The first of these was six feet in diameter and seventy-five feet long. These designs were tested outdoors, securely propped against protective sound-absorbent walls. The investigators stood at a great distance. Two forms of these infrasonic organ pipes were built. The first utilized a drive piston, which pulsed the pipe output. The second utilized compressed air in a more conventional manner.
The main resonant frequency of these pipes occurred in the “range of death”, found to lie between three and seven cycles per second. These sounds could not be humanly heard, a distinct advantage for a defense system. The effects were felt however. The symptoms come on rapidly and unexpectedly, though the pipes were operating for a few seconds. Their pressure waves impacted against the entire body in a terrible and inescapable grip. The grip was a pressure which came in on one from all sides simultaneously, an enve­lope of death.
Next came the pain, dull infrasonic pressure against the eyes and ears. Then came a frightening manifestation on the material supports of the device itself. With sustained operation of the pipe, a sudden rumble rocked the area, nearly destroying the test building. Every pillar and joint of the massive struc­ture bolted and moved. One of the technicians managed to ignore the pain enough to shut down the power supply.
These experiments with infrasonics were as dangerous as those early investigations of nuclear energy. Dr. Gavreau and his associates were dangerously ill for nearly a day after these preliminary tests. These maladies were sustained for hours after the device was turned off. Infrasonic assaults on the body are the more lethal because they come with dreadful silence. The eye­sight of Dr. Gavreau and his fellow workers were affected for days. More dangerously were their internal organs affected: the heart, lungs, stomach, intestinal cavity were filled with continual painful spasms for an equal time period.
Musculature convulses, torques, and tears were the symptoms of infra­sonic exposure. All the resonant body cavities absorbed the self-destructive acoustic energy, and would have been torn apart had the power not been extinguished at that precise moment. The effectiveness of infrasound as a defense weapon of frightening power having been demonstrated “to satisfaction”, more questions were asked. After this dreadful accident, approaching the equipment once again was almost a fearful exercise. How powerful could the output of an infrasonic device be raised before even the operating engi­neers were affected?
With greatest caution and respect for the power with which they worked, Dr. Gavreau began recalculating all of his design parameters. He had grossly misjudged the power released by the pipes. He had, in fact, greatly lowered those calculated outputs for diagnostic purposes. Never had he imagined that these figures were actually far too great in the world of infrasound!
Empirical data being the only way to determine how infrasonic energy correlated with both biological and material effect, the tests were again attempted with a miniature power supply. First, the dimensions of these devices had to be greatly reduced. Their extreme length was objectionable. In order to provide absolutely safe control of the deadly blasts, several emergency cutoff switches were provided. These responded to the radiated infrasonic pressure wave. The intensity could be absolutely limited by use of automated barometric switches.
In an attempt to achieve more compact and controllable infrasound generators, Dr. Gavreau designed and tested special horns and “whistles” of vari­ous volumes. These were each remarkably simple flat circular resonant cavi­ties, having a side output duct. They were simply the large analogues of fog­horns and police whistles. These flat forms were volumetrically reduced in successive design stages because it was found that their output was far too great. The infrasonic foghorns could produce a frightening two kilowatts of infrasonic energy, at a pitch of one hundred fifty cycles per second.
The flat “police whistles” were more easily designed to required specifications. Their overall characteristics were quite simple to determine, a math­ematical formula being devised for the purpose. The whistle’s resonant pitch was found by dividing its diameter into a numerical constant of 51. Increas­ing the depth of the whistle effectively increased its amplitude. A whistle 1.3 meters in diameter produced an infrasonic pitch of 37 cycles per second. This form violently shook the walls of the entire laboratory complex, though its intensity was less than 2 watts infrasonic power.
DANGER
Not much amplitude is required for infrasound to produce physiological malady. Several researchers accidentally did themselves great harm when, by deliberate intent or accident, they succeeded in generating infrasonic vibrations. Tesla used vibrating platforms as an aid to vitality. He delighted in “toning the body” with vibrational platforms of his own design. Mounted on heavy rubber pads, these platforms were vibrated by simple motorized “eccentric” wheels.
Their mild use, for a minute, could be pleasantly stimulating. The effects invigorating the whole body for hours thereafter. Excessive use would produce grave illness however, excessive aggravations of the heart being the most dangerous aspect of the stimulation. The entire body “rang” for hours with an elevated heart rate and greatly stimulated blood pressure. The effects could be deadly.
In one historic instance, Samuel Clemens, Tesla’s close friend, refused to descend from the vibrating platform. Tesla was sorry he had allowed him to mount it. After repeated warnings, Tesla’s concern was drowned out by both the vibrating machine and Clemens’ jubilant exaltations and praises. Several more seconds and Clemens nearly soiled his white suit, the effects of infrasound being “duly recorded”.
Tesla often went to great lengths in describing the effects of infrasounds to newspaper reporters who, behind his back, scoffed at the notion that a “little sound” could effect such devastations. Yet, it was precisely with such a “little sound” that Tesla nearly brought down his laboratory on Houston Street. His compact infrasonic impulsers were terribly efficient. Tesla later designed and tested infrasonic impulse weapons capable of wrecking buildings and whole cities on command.
Walt Disney and his artists were once made seriously ill when a sound effect, intended for a short cartoon scene, was slowed down several times on a tape machine and amplified through a theater sound system. The original sound source was a soldering iron, whose buzzing 60-cycle tone was lowered five times to 12 cycles. This tone produced a lingering nausea in the crew, which lasted for days.
Physiology seems to remain paralyzed by infrasound. Infrasound stimu­lates middle ear disruptions, ruining organismic equilibrium. The effect is like severe and prolonged seasickness. Infrasound immobilizes its victims. Restoration to normal vitality requires several hours, or even days. Exposure to mild infrasound intensities produces illness, but increased intensities re­sult in death. Alarming responses to infrasound have been accurately recorded by military medical experts. Tolerances from 40 to 100 cycles per second have been recorded by military examiners. The results are sobering ones. As infrasonic pitches decrease, the deadly symptoms increase. Altered cardiac rhythms, with pulse rates rising to 40 percent of their rest values, are the precursors to other pre-lethal states. Mild nausea, giddiness, skin flushing, and body tingling occur at 100 cycles per second. Vertigo, anxiety, extreme fatigue, throat pressure, and respiratory dysfunction follow. Coughing, se­vere sternal pressure, choking, excessive salivation, extreme swallowing pains, inability to breathe, headache, and abdominal pain occur between 60 and 73 cycles per second. Post exposure fatigue is marked. Certain subjects contin­ued to cough for half an hour, while many continued the skin-flush manifes­tation for up to four hours.
Significant visual acuity decrements are noted when humans are exposed to infrasounds between 43 and 73 cycles per second. Intelligibility scores for persons exposed, fall to a low of 77 percent their normal scores. Spatial orientation becomes completely distorted. Muscular coordination and equilibrium falter considerably. Depressed manual dexterity and slurred speech have been noted before individuals blackout. Just before this point, a significant loss in intelligibility is noted.
The findings of Dr. Gavreau in the infrasonic range between 1 and 10 cycles per second are truly shocking. Lethal infrasonic pitch lies in the 7-cycle range. Small amplitude increases affect human behavior in this pitch range. Intellectual activity is first inhibited, blocked, and then destroyed. As the amplitude is increased, several disconcerting responses had been noted. These responses begin as complete neurological interference. The action of the medulla is physiologically blocked, its autonomic functions cease.
WATCHMEN
Infrasound clings to the ground, a phenomenon well known in the animal world. Female vocalizations and those of their young, take their traceable routes through the air. High-pitched sounds are aerial in nature. This makes females and young natural targets for predators. Low-pitched tones cling to the ground, being “guided” along the soil layers. Male vocalizations cannot be localized by predators. Male sounds “hug the ground”, diffusing out from their source. Some males rumble the ground with voice and hooves. These are communications signals, which they alone comprehend. .....
.....Such a war engine would be impossible to locate. None who saw its size would believe it to contain such a lethal power. Most would overlook the device completely. A flood of such devices, each emanating a peculiar highly modulated blend of infrasound, would be an unstoppable wall. Robotic tanks equipped with infrasonic generators could sweep an area with deadly infrasound, destroying all opponents to within a five mile radius. These ter­rible infrasonic weapons could easily be secured in drone jets, where aerial assaults could quickly and methodically waste any offensive approaching army.
Deterring would-be aerial attackers could be equally devastating for the offenders. Infrasonic beacons could sweep and scan the skies with a deadly accuracy. Infrasound passes through all matter with equal effectiveness, seek­ing out offenders with deadly consequence. The intensities which the Gavreau devices effectively broadcast into the environment are frightening. In these devices we see the perfection of phenomena, which never naturally occur in such dangerous intensities. This is why these weapons must be deployed by remote control, operating as automatons at great distances from their operators.
Weapons are made to defend, not to offend. In Gavreau’s own words: “There does not exist complete protection against infrasound. It is not ab­sorbed by ordinary matter, walls and chambers do not suffice to arrest it”. And so, once again, we stand at the crossroads. We are called, summoned to appear before two pathways. On the one, we hear Messaien and the musical messages of peace. On the other, Gavreau and the musical messages of war. And again we choose. And again we must choose. Whose music will it be?

Alternative, possibly indie song around 2021 - 2022.
I've posted this a couple of times in the help me find, tip of my tongue, music videos, and RBI subs with no luck. Hoping someone here can end this mystery!
I purchased a bag at Hot Topic a couple of years ago (I want to say around 2022, but it could have been right before or after) and while I was checking out, a music video was playing on a TV behind the register. I only caught a few glimpses, but I remember liking the song and I have searched and searched, but can not find it! I feel like it should be so easy. It could have been older than 2022 of course, but it wasnt as far back as 90s.
I don't remember any of the lyrics or melody, but I remember the singer was a slim, white male wearing a white outfit, and playing guitar in a field of flowers. Maybe sunflowers? He had dark shorter, dark hair. I remember another scene where it was night, and it was sort of neon street or club lighting maybe? I feel like he almost reminded me of Brandon Flowers from The Killers but I'm pretty sure it's not them. My memory is fuzzy so some details might be off, but upon searching I came across Eddie Berg of Imminence and thought it was him. I haven't found a video that matches tho, so maybe this guy looks somewhat similar?
Attaching this picture of a sunflower field that looks the closest to what I remember. It may not have been sunflowers, but it definitely was a field that had a trail just like this and the singer was standing or crouching in the middle. https://imgur.com/3jrV6D9
It's not "Ocean breathes salty" by Modest Mouse either.
I know this is really vague, but if someone can help me I will love you forever!!