Middle finger symbolp

And I have to say, given this is my third playthrough (technically 2nd time finishing the game, I played a second time but decided to wait after phantom liberty was announced), I'm in love with this game. Idk if anyone remembers a post I made when I first finished the game, but tldr I missed half the side quests and got the Sun ending, and man I felt unfulfilled.
This time, I got the Star ending, did all the side quests (besides Kerry's because I didn't really care after I got samurai back together), romanced Judy, and ride off into the night with the Aldecaldo's. I gotta say, I feel so much better.
I helped River and got Randy back, took rogue and Johnny on their date, did all the side gigs and even all the ncpd scanners(which took forever, but by the end of it I had so much money and crafting materials I didn't know what to do with), I did all the races with Claire, got all the cyberpsychos alive to hopefully get treatment, made sure El Capitan got to retire from fixing and just help around Santo Domingo, got songbird to the stars, made sure Alex got that kushy retirement in Monaco, killed Adam smasher and let him know who's watching, hopefully Jeff peralez will be ok since I told him the truth, Sandra dorsett is (at least physically) ok, I'm pretty sure goro died, which I am sad about, but his goals were never mine, not in the end, freed the many delamain's.
But in the end I think things might work out for Johnny and V. Johnny's free, reunited with Alt. Definitely not the same, but still. Johnny ran away with the girl in the end after giving the corpo filled material world the middle finger and got away with it. And V, something tells me my V will be ok. She's got 6 months, sure, but I feel like she'll find a way. She's got a whole family looking out for her. And even if worst comes to worst, and she dies, she's surrounded by people she cares about, who care about her. But I like to think she'll make it, with Judy, and panam, and Mitch and Cassidy and Carol.
This has been one of my favorite gaming experiences. Here's to this, and whatever Cyberpunk cooks up next! It's been fun.

Living in a small southern town, you get used to the way things are. I grew up as a military brat, so my childhood memories are a blur of packing, unpacking, and getting settled. It had been seven years since we arrived, and nothing but the grace of God would make me move again. A few years ago, my father got orders to station at a base in the middle of the Mohave. I was only seventeen then, but after a few dozen screaming matches, I decided to strike out on my own a little early. I got a part-time job at the cafe, which was enough to rent a little run-down shack a couple of blocks from downtown. As far as I was concerned, I was living the dream—serving coffee a few hours a week and spending the rest of my time hanging out with friends, listening to music, and drinking.
That particular morning started the same as any other. I woke up around noon with a text from Mark to meet me at the cafe. Took me about two hours to get up and head over. The sun had just begun its descent as I pushed the door to the cafe open, the bell above tinkling softly. The sound bothered me a little bit, but I couldn’t tell why. It seemed to ring a little louder than I was expecting, and gave me this strange drilling sensation inside my head.
I ignored the feeling as the smell of slightly stale coffee and pastries washed over me. I saw Mark and Jamie already sat at our usual spot. Mark looked up as I approached, a grin spreading across his face. "Hey, Alex. Sarah should be here soon."
“So what's on the docket today?” I asked as I sat down, stealing a bear claw off Jamie's plate and taking a large bite before he had the chance to protest.
Mark’s excitement was almost palpable. He was always the one with the big ideas and crazy schemes, which I honestly appreciated. They got us into trouble more often than not, but it beat day drinking in the Walmart parking lot like everyone else our age.
"Alright, check this out," Mark said, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "I was talking to my cousin who works for the county. He told me about this old, abandoned food processing factory just outside of town. They used to can peaches there."
I gave him a skeptical look. "That’s your idea? Old, canned peaches?"
"No, idiot," he scoffed. "They left behind a ton of nitrates and phosphates. I’ve been doing some reading, and we can use them to make fireworks. I was up all night figuring it out and putting these together." He subtly opened his backpack to reveal at least a dozen PVC pipes fitted on both ends.
"Now that's what I’m talking about," I said, grinning.
Sarah walked in, catching the tail end of our conversation. "Sorry I’m late, I had a breakout and had to stop by the pharmacy. Upped my allergy meds. I fucking hate pollen," she said as I scooted over to make room for her on the bench.
"Is there anything you aren't allergic to?" I laughed.
She rolled her eyes, ignoring my question. "So, what's the plan for today?"
Mark, Jamie and I exchanged cheeky glances. "Well," I started, "let’s just hope you’re not allergic to peaches."
We finally managed to pry the side door of the factory off, which broke free from the hinges and smashed against the floor. Stepping inside, the air was thick and rancid as we bounced the beams of our flashlights around the packaging floor.
"We should split up," Mark suggested. "Alex, you and Sarah check out the storage rooms for the chemicals. Jamie and I will find the control room and see if we can get the power back on."
All of us nodded as we went our separate ways. Sarah and I wandered down the dark hallways, kicking open doors and looking for anything that looked vaguely like chemicals. The corridors were dark and damp, with black mold snaking along the walls like veins.
The first few rooms we checked were empty, filled only with dust and the remnants of long-abandoned equipment. Each door creaked as we pushed it open, revealing more decay and desolation.
As we moved further down the hallway, the mold seemed to become more aggressive, spreading in thick, dark patches along the walls and floors. The air grew heavier, making it harder to breathe. We kicked open another door, our flashlights revealing more of the same—nothing useful.
"This place is a bust," Sarah muttered,
"Let's keep looking," I replied, though I was starting to feel the same way. "There has to be something."
We continued down the corridor, our footsteps echoing in the silence. As we approached the end of the hall, something caught my eye. One door stood out, covered in black, creeping mold that seemed to pulse and writhe. Tendrils of fungus snaked out from the edges, reaching out into the hallway.
"Sarah, look at this," I said.
She turned to see what I was pointing at and her eyes widened. "That’s... different."
We approached the door cautiously as the tendrils moved and swayed.
With a deep breath, we each grabbed one side of the door and pulled. It resisted for a moment before giving way, the mold snapping and tearing as we forced it open. The smell that hit us was overpowering, a mix of rot and decay that made my eyes water.
Inside, our flashlights revealed a horrifying sight. At the back of the room sat several pallets with dozens of boxes of peaches each. But it was what grew from these boxes that will haunt my nightmares till my dying day.
The entire back wall was consumed by a towering fungal mass. Thick, fleshy stalks jutted out from the base, climbing nearly to the ceiling. The surface of the fungus glistened with a slimy, wet sheen, appearing almost like rotting flesh under our flashlight beams. Each stalk was covered in a mottled, sickly green and yellow hue, with patches of black mold that seemed to pulse in the dim light.
Interwoven within this horrific sight were bulbous growths, each one throbbing rhythmically, as if with a heartbeat of its own. They resembled obscene, overgrown tumors, ready to burst at the slightest touch. Long, sinewy tendrils extended from the main mass, creeping over the boxes and along the floor like the fingers of some malevolent creature, seeking out any life to ensnare.
The tendrils near the door twitched, slowly inching their way toward us as if aware of our presence. The air was thick with spores, glimmering in the light like tiny stars, each one a potential harbinger of decay and death.
"Oh my god," Sarah whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of our own breathing. "What is that thing?"
We stood there, frozen in shock and disgust, before I slammed the door shut.
"Let's get the hell out of here," I said.
We hurried back down the corridor, our footsteps echoing in the oppressive silence. The lights in the facility flickered on, casting a blinding white light. I heard a bubbling, groaning noise emanate from behind the fungal door, sending a wave of nausea through my body.
We met back up with Mark and Jamie in the main area and quickly told them what we saw.
"Yo, that sounds sick," Jamie exclaimed. "We should blow it up. I found the chemicals in the control room and these bad boys are ready to go," he said, holding up a pipe bomb.
"Yeah," Mark agreed, his eyes alight with excitement. "We'd be doing the world a favor, getting rid of that thing."
Sarah shook her head, her face pale. "No way. I'm not doing this. That thing... It's not normal. We need to get out of here and call someone who knows what they're doing."
Jamie frowned. "Come on, Sarah. Don't be a buzzkill. This is a once-in-a-lifetime chance to do something epic."
"Epic?" Sarah snapped. "That thing is dangerous. We don't know what we're dealing with. I'm not risking my life for some stupid joke."
Mark stepped in with a grin. "Alright, let's all calm down. If you’re scared you can just let the men handle it.”
Sarah crossed her arms. "Fine, but I'm staying here."
"Suit yourself," Jamie said, shrugging. "But we're not leaving without taking care of that thing."
"Alright, let's do this," Mark said, looking at Jamie and me. "We'll be quick. Sarah, stay here and keep an eye out.”
The hallway looked completely different in the fluorescent lighting. I could see now that each vein of fungus emanated from that single door, like a spiral portal threatening to suck us in.
"Let's make this quick," I whispered, glancing back at Jamie and Mark. "We light the bomb, throw it in, and get the hell out of here."
Jamie nodded, holding the pipe bomb tightly in his hand. "Ready when you are."
We reached the door, and the tendrils of fungus seemed even more aggressive, writhing and pulsing as if aware of our presence. The air was thick with spores.
"On three," I whispered, gripping the edge of the door. "One... two... three."
We yanked the door open, the mold snapping and tearing as it gave way. The smell of rot and decay hit us again, making my eyes water. The monstrous fungal mass loomed before us, its bulbous growths throbbing rhythmically.
Jamie lit the fuse and threw the bomb as hard as he could inside. It struck one of the orbs, which burst, shooting a fine white mist into the air.
"Run!" I shouted, slamming the door shut. We turned and sprinted down the hallway. The explosion sounded behind us, the shockwave lifting me off my feet and sending me tumbling to the ground.
Living in a small southern town, you get used to the way things are. My parents were in the army, so we moved a lot, but now I'm staying put. I woke up around noon and got a text from Mark to meet at the cafe. The smell of slightly stale coffee and pastries greeted me as I arrived. The bell's ring seemed off, giving me a small headache.
I ignored it and slid into the seat across from Mark and Jamie. “So what's on the docket today?” I asked, stealing a doughnut off Jamie's plate.
“Going to go to an old peach factory and get some chemicals. I need to make some fireworks,” Mark replied, subtly revealing some pipe bombs in his bag.
Sarah walked in towards the tail end of our conversation and silently stood next to our table.
The three of us glanced at each other, unsure of how to proceed. “Sarah,” I finally started. “Are you ok?”
“Y-yeah,” she replied. “Are YOU guys feeling ok?”
We exchanged uneasy glances. “Yeah, we’re fine,” I said. After a moment, she shook her head and sat down as we continued our plans.
That evening, we broke into the peach factory. We found this disgusting, gigantic fungal growth coming out of some boxes of peaches and we blew it up with some pipe bombs.
The next day I woke up around noon and got a text from Mark to meet at the cafe. The smell of slightly stale coffee and pastries greeted me as I arrived. The bell's ring seemed off, giving me a small migraine.
I ignored it and slid into the seat across from Mark and Jamie. “So what's on the docket today?” I asked, stealing a maroon off Jamie's plate.
“Going to go to an old peach factory and get some chemicals. I need to make some fireworks,” Mark replied, subtly revealing some pipe bombs in his bag.
Sarah walked in towards the tail end of our conversation and silently stood next to our table.
The three of us glanced at each other, unsure of how to proceed. “Sarah,” I finally started. “Are you ok?”
“Y-yeah,” she replied. “Not really. Are YOU guys feeling Ok?”
We exchanged uneasy glances. “Yeah, we’re fine,” I said. After a moment, she shook her head and sat down as we continued our plans.
That evening, we broke into the peach factory. We found this disgusting, gigantic fungal growth coming out of some boxes of peaches and we blew it up with some pipe bombs.
The next day I woke up around noon and got a text from Mark to meet at the cafe. The smell of slightly stale coffee and pastries greeted me as I arrived. The bell's ring seemed off, giving me a piercing migraine.
I ignored it and slid into the seat across from Mark and Jamie. “So what's on the docket today?” I asked, stealing a bagel off Jamie's plate.
“Going to go to an old peach factory and get some chemicals. I need to make some fireworks,” Mark replied, subtly revealing some pipe bombs in his bag.
Sarah walked in towards the tail end of our conversation and silently stood next to our table.
The three of us glanced at each other, unsure of how to proceed. “Sarah,” I finally started. “Are you ok?”
“What's going on?” she asked, tears welling up in her eyes. “I’m scared.”
We exchanged uneasy glances. “It’s fine, Sarah. Just take a seat,” I said. After a moment, she shook her head and sat down as we continued our plans.
That evening, we broke into the peach factory. We found this disgusting, gigantic fungal growth coming out of some boxes of peaches and we blew it up with some pipe bombs.
The next day I woke up around noon and got a text from Mark to meet at the cafe. The smell of slightly stale coffee and pastries greeted me as I arrived. The bell's ring seemed off, giving me a splitting migraine.
As I slid into the seat across from Mark and Jamie, I noticed Sarah outside, fixated on a bird suspended in mid-flight. I went out to see her.
"Are you seeing this?" she asked, her voice tinged with astonishment.
"Yeah," I replied nonchalantly. "That happens all the time. Are you sure you're feeling okay?"
"What the hell do you mean, 'Am I feeling okay?'!" she screamed. "That bird is frozen mid-air, and you don't think anything weird is going on?"
Her yelling took me aback. I didn't understand her alarm, so I shrugged it off and joined Mark inside. As we began planning our nightly excursion to the peach factory, Sarah burst through the door, screaming, then vanished in a puff of smoke.
"That's odd," I mused, my brow furrowed in confusion before we shrugged it off and resumed our scheming.
The day after, I met Mark again at the cafe. This rhythm had become our existence: meetings by day, adventures by night at the old peach plant. That evening followed the familiar pattern; we reveled in the thrill of hurling pipe bombs into that small enclosed room.
This routine had completely engulfed our lives. Day after day at the cafe, night after night at the factory—it seemed as though this cycle was all we had ever known. Reflecting on it, I couldn't remember any other way of life.
However, one thing increasingly disturbed me—the ringing of the doorbell at the cafe's entrance. Each time I entered, the sound seemed sharper, more grating. Focusing on it brought a searing pain to my head, like a needle drilling through my skull. Yet, despite the agony, I found myself obsessing over it, the sound gnawing at the edges of my sanity.
One day, driven to the brink by this incessant ringing, I decided to confront it head-on. I stood by the door, letting the bell chime repeatedly. Each ring sliced through my mind, but I persisted, sweat beading on my forehead, teeth clenched in torment.
As the pain crescendoed, reality shattered. I woke to the blaring of a fire alarm, not the quaint doorbell I had imagined. The cafe was engulfed in chaos. The hallway was consumed by a sprawling fungal mass, its tendrils creeping along the walls.
In the dim, flickering light, I saw Jamie, or what was left of him. Half of his skull was missing, the fungus attached grotesquely to his exposed brain, pulsating with each eerie beat of his fading heart. Mark was there too, seemingly unharmed physically, but trapped in a delusion, his eyes glazed over, a smile playing on his lips as the fungus encased him.
Sarah lay collapsed by the fire alarm, her hand still on the lever. She had managed to pull it before succumbing to the spores that now clung to her body.
The tendrils that had enveloped me snapped violently, each break releasing a sickening crack that echoed through the eerie silence of the hallway. An outline of my body remained imprinted in the fungal mass, a mold from which I had desperately broken free.
Gritting my teeth against the pain and horror, I scrambled to Mark and Sarah. Mark was less entangled, lost in his fungal-induced stupor. I grabbed him under the arms, his body limp but alive, and dragged him across the floor. The fungus resisted, stretching like sinew before tearing away from him with wet, ripping sounds.
Sarah was heavier, her body weakened but still fighting. I clasped her wrists, pulling with all my strength. The fungus clung to her, tendrils winding up her arms like ivy. With a final, determined yank, the last of the tendrils snapped, freeing her. We left behind fragments of the monstrous growth clinging to her clothes.
Together, we staggered out into the night air, away from the suffocating enclosure. The cool air hit our faces, harsh yet cleansing. Behind us, the fire alarm continued to blare into the night. I fumbled with my phone, hands shaking, to dial the emergency number. The call went through, and within minutes, the sound of sirens cut through the stillness of the night, growing louder as help approached.
The next few days were a blur. I remember fading in and out of consciousness as nurses pumped antifungals directly into my IV, their faces blurring into the sterile environment. Once we were somewhat cognizant, the police wanted answers. One by one, we were interviewed, but we gave them nothing. I still don’t know what the exact penalty is for manufacturing explosives and using them to destroy a building, but I’m guessing it’s not community service. Jamie was still missing, and they hadn’t found any sign of him or his body. I tried to hide my tears as I knew he was already long gone.
After a few weeks, I was finally cleared for visitors and got to see Sarah again. She told me that after the explosion, she ran but couldn’t leave us behind. She came back, only to see us being consumed by the fungus. Try as she might, she wasn’t able to free us as she felt the oppressive spores take her under. She fought back and managed to pull the fire alarm before succumbing again. The doctors told her that her allergy medication gave her some resistance to the fungus; otherwise, she might have been a goner.
Mark was never the same. We never talked about what happened, and after trying once and him flipping out, I figured it was best to let sleeping dogs lie. That summer, he moved to upstate New York to work in his dad’s business. I haven’t seen him since. That fall, Sarah started college at Savannah State. I still call her every now and again, but it’s not like it used to be.
Despite all that happened, I’m not moving again. I’m happy here, and if it’s up to me, I’ll die in this little town. I still work at the cafe, as a manager now. On weekends, I come in and just sit at the booth we all used to share.
I still think about Jamie from time to time. I wonder if he's dead or still stuck in his delusion, picturing the four of us sitting at our table, talking, laughing, and passing the time. Sometimes, when the cafe is empty and the light is just right, I can almost see him there, his smile frozen in that moment before everything went wrong.
The cafe grows quieter each day, the hum of life fading into an eerie stillness. My skin feels different, as if the air itself whispers secrets I can't quite grasp. The itching that started as a minor annoyance has intensified, becoming a constant torment. I scratch at lesions that have begun to form on my arms and chest, red and raw, with patches of green spreading beneath the surface. I’ve started to wear long sleeves to cover my arms and a mask to hide my purpling lips.
Some nights, when closing, as I sit alone in the dim light of the cafe, the itching becomes unbearable. I claw at the lesions, feeling a dampness beneath my skin. Sometimes, when I cough, I could swear I see tiny spores hanging in the air, reminiscent of the bursting nodules growing on the stalks of the monster.
Occasionally, I hear the bell ring and the door open, but no one is there. I look outside into the empty night and see nothing. This went on for weeks, becoming more frequent. But one night, the door opened, and I saw Jamie standing there, the picture of health. I went to embrace him and noticed my lesions were gone too. It was almost as if we had never gone to the peach factory. It was suddenly morning, and the light shone through the cafe. For the first time in forever, we were happy. We talked about nothing, passing the time.
After what felt like hours, he told me it was time to go. But his mouth wasn’t moving—I felt like I could read his thoughts, and he could read mine. We stood up as I took one last look at the cafe and headed off with him, back to the peach factory.
As we walked, a strange calmness settled over me. I remember feeling that I wanted to ask if he had talked to Mark or Sarah, and wondered how they were doing. But deep down, somehow, I could feel their presence and I knew they were doing just fine. The sun was bright, the air crisp. The itching had vanished completely, replaced by an inexplicable craving for the sweetness of ripe peaches. Jamie and I shared a silent understanding, a bond deeper than any words could convey.
The factory loomed ahead, its doors wide open as if inviting us in. The familiar scent of peaches and something else—something earthy and ancient—filled the air. We stepped inside, side by side, feeling at home for the first time in ages.
The last thing I remember before the darkness took over was the feeling of the soft, warm peach flesh in my hand, and Jamie’s voice in my head saying, "Welcome home."

My enthusiastic puppy snapped a paw paw sapling about the size of my index finger near the base of the tree. The break was fairly clean and about 1.5 inches long through the middle of the tree. I zip tied the tree along the break (pictured) figuring this would provide a snug compression without limiting airflow and supported the tree with stake. If the current growth survives, will this repair compromise the tree’s structural integrity?

Age 19
Sex Female
Height 162 cm
Weight 85 kg
Race white
Duration of complaint connective issue disorder=all my life hormonal problems 2 years ago
Location turkey
Any existing relevant medical issues hypothyroid hypermobility
Current medications levotiron and monodoks
I realized 2 years ago that i have hypermobility i always knew something was wrong with me but couldnt put my finger on what it was ever since i was a little kid i stood weird, had flat feet that would litterally tear apart my shoes, couldnt write without my fingers hurting like hell, had "growing pains" and was duble jointed ect. I was saying these to my parents but they thought i was overreacting im not gonna Blake them bc they had no idea these were abnormal but i did stop tankını about it however throught the years since i grew out of the ages i would have had growing pains and my problems even got worse throught years i realized i had to look it up. Like anybody would do i first looked at the internet than i went to rhumotologists geneticists physiotherapist i had Xrays done ect but all i heard from the doctors was "sorry idk how to diagnose you" "you need to go to a university hospital we cant help you here" "rhumotology is not the right place for your you probobly dont have inflemation problems you need to go to a physiotherapist" "i know our recomended exercises made your problems worse but we have nothing else to do maybe you should try to go to other policlinics" "your problems cant be cured why are you even trying to get a diagnosis" ect. I know there is no cure for connective issue illnesses but there are treatments that can help my symptoms plus if i get a propper diagnosis i will be able to receive appropriate treatment for problems that can be coused by my illness in situations such as anesthesia and birth. When my genetic test results came i tested negative to all illnesses tested but i heard the genes responsable for hypermobile eds is not known so these tests dont include h-eds in them. I check all the boxes of official diagnostic criteria for eds (the physiotherapist i went to confermed i have hypermobility) but i dont have information about my genetic lineage (im adopted) so i cant say anything about that. I also have some hormonal issues i have hypo thyroidism (i use livotiron) i got slightly higher prolactin (not high enough to be considered hyper) i had mixed results about my dhea-sulfate its lower than usul than normal ect i actually have a appontment in 2 days to a endocronologist and will be giving another blood test 2 to 8 days after my period. I stared to get shorter periods and my period blood is more Red that usual i had a day come in the middle of my periods for the last couple periods my doctor is thinking its polycystic over but i couldnt find a appointment to get an ultrasound im try my best to take care of myself i mean i dont smoke drink use any substences ect i dont eat alot (ik im overweight but i have always been easy to gain weight) im overall very confused and i cant help but wonder if these will effect my fertility if anybody an help me find what it should do next it would be nice bc it genuanly dont know what it need to do🤷🏻‍♀️

After 70,000 gems, a free pull every day, and 120+ advanced recruit vouchers saved up throughout a long period of time, I still only managed to get one copy of Crown in regular pulls, while getting no other copies of SSRs or new Nikkes. While I know a 1% pickup rate theoretically allows you to get multiple copies of one Nikke at the same time like I see other people get, for some reason Shift Up threw a massive middle finger towards me this event. Has this happened to anyone else this event?

Hi,
Photo : https://imgur.com/a/pK5Hc94
In past few months I found that my left side of my face is more tender and then I palpated a small pea/been sized tube like mass under my Zygomatic bone. I had scheduled dentist appointment for like 2 moths and today he looked at me. I have papilla visible on the left side too and I had left side cavity with left side Gingivitis in upper and lower tooths.
By normal palpation ( relaxed, closed mouth ), it is not noticeable ( maybe a little ) but when I take my index and middle finger and point them straight under Zygomatic bone, and use my nail to move up and down, I feel it and it is like straw that is bigger on the side of parotid and then narrowing and going straight to papilla. It is visible when I open my mouth and strongly flex masseter muscle ( also more easily palatable ).
Firstly doctor didn't saw anything but then told me that it looks like my left side is little swollen and it is maybe a stone, that those are common. He also look on it 3 times, 2 in laying position and one in standing position. He palpated it on the skin and also from the inside the mouth. He also looked at my papilla and were performing some salivary flow tests.
His final words were: Stenson duct papilla enlarged suspect from trauma ( bites ) with dilatated duct and small left side swelling. He told me to not worry about and that he will check it in 3 moths during next visit. He just fixed my left side cavity and told me try eat sour sweets to increase salivary production.
I asked if there is need to maybe to go to ultrasound and he told me that it is not needed.
I just want to be sure, should I go and try to find another opinion from other dentist? He was more focusing on fixing cavity that on my gland. I am scared it can be cancer and let it be there for at least 3 more months will not do any good. Just to mention, when I massage it , I feel flow of saliva and sometimes it is better for few days, also I don't think it is increasing or decreasing in size during past months ( 2-3 ).
Thank you!
Edit: no smoking, beer and wine consumer ( 3-4 times a week ). Palatable only on left side.

Chapter 1

Concept art for Sybil
Of Men and Ghost Ships, Book 1: Chapter 17
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
First, Carter met an AI who looked like an old-earth pirate, and now he met an alien who looked like an old-earth viking. Well, if that viking stood nearly eight feet tall, had fangs and claws that could put some daggers to shame, and a bony carapace armor seemingly covering most of his vital organs. He wasn't sure if he just had some odd luck when it came to encountering the weirdest entities the universe had to offer or if he was at the butt of some galactic joke.
Carter showed Erik how to use the goo dispenser, to which the larger alien made a face but managed to politely keep any complaints to himself as they both got a bowl and sat down at a table with Sybil's two robotic guards passively waiting not far from the table. As he sat down, Cater couldn't help but ask. "So, Erik, huh?"
Before he could ask his question, the behemoth of a man laughed. "Yes, it's a human name. I was 'raised,' for lack of a better term, by pirates who gave me the name. No, I don't know where I came from or even if there are more like me somewhere out there. Long story short, I got my freedom the hard way, and ever since, I've just been trying to get by in this galaxy!"
That answered several of Carter's questions without him having to ask them. " Get asked those a lot, do you?"
Erik nodded while he tried a spoonful of the much, then looked down at the bowl with surprise before taking another bite. "You could say that! Probably the most common questions I get right after people screaming incoherently or begging for their lives. Not that those are questions, but I kinda feel like they're implied, if you know what I mean!"
Carter nodded cautiously. "Do you get that a lot? People begging for their lives, I mean?"
The bigger alien grinned. "Well, yeah! And more than half the time, I didn't even do anything to warrant it! Guess I'm just too big and scary for my own good!"
Carter made a show of taking a bite of his own mint-flavored sludge. "And the other half of the time?"
Erik shrugged, but Carter couldn't help but notice his grin became just a bit more predatory. "Well, let's just say I don't start many fights, but I sure do end a lot of them! Guess I seem like an easy mark or something!"
Carter suspected it was the "or something" but decided not to push the issue. Instead, he figured maybe he could bring up some common ground. "So, not a big fan of pirates then?"
The larger alien shook his head., "No, I like them just fine! Why, they're just about my favorite thing to test the sharpness of my axes on!"
Carter looked at his dining companion skeptically. "Axes? Really? In this day and age?"
Erik laughed. "Yeah, yeah, I know, they're not the most efficient weapons out there, and I'm not above using some more traditional armaments in a pinch, but I tell ya, there's nothing more satisfying than cleaving through a battle suite in hand-to-hand combat with a good heavy axe! Sides, I got used to them back when I fought as a gladiator."
Carter supposed he should have been ready for a crazy story, but he still found himself surprised for the umpteenth time in one conversation. "Wait, wait, wait... You were a gladiator? Like as in an arena, fight to the death kinda thing?"
Erik laughed again. "Yeah, pretty much! However I ended up fighting monsters more than people. There weren't many pirates willing to get in the ring with me, even with a battle suit, and I wasn't willing to kill any ordinary folk who got thrown in with me. Thankfully, I was too big a draw for them to just execute for refusing to kill normals, though I'm sorry to say they didn't get out of the situation any better than if I had. Still, I've killed more than my fair share of wild beasties! They even managed to bring in this giant wolf-like monster with a bladed tail. It was the size of a moose! I kid you not! I got no idea where they found that monster, but it would have killed me for sure if it hadn't been for Vanessa backing me up. Even then, we were both out of commission for the better part of a month after that one. Well, we might have been fit to go a bit before that, but that was the one that made us decide it would be considerably better for our health if we got out of the gladiator business sooner rather than later!"
Oddly enough, Carter found himself grinning along with Erik despite the nature of the story. There was just something about the guy that made listening to him ramble on about stuff kinda fun. Despite his thick accent, or maybe partially because of it, the man was a heck of a storyteller. However, now that the story seemed to have come to an end, the larger alien seemed to think for a moment before asking his own question. "So tell me, captain, where's the rest of your crew? The only ones I've seen since coming aboard are you and your robotic monsters!" He pointed back at the two escorts Sybil provided.
Carter looked askance at the alien. "I invited two aliens who look like they might be able to pick a fight with a full squad of commandos and come out on top, and you're wondering where my crew is?"
Erik kind of nodded and laughed again. "Yeah, I guess that tracks! No sense puttin' everyone at risk when you don't know nothin' about us, and we won't be here very long, is there? Speaking of, how much longer is my friend's treatment gonna take?"
The word "friend" was a surprising choice. Was Erik just using it as a general term, or did he really consider the kid he'd hauled onboard the ship a friend? Carter supposed it didn't matter. Instead, he figured he might as well find out. "Hey, Sybil, how's the treatment going?"
The girl appeared. "Well, the patient looks like he'll pull through. However, given the nature of his injury and how long it's been since he received it, we cannot save his foot. We're discussing whether he would like a temporary replacement or if he'd rather a replacement be grown in a better-stocked facility."
-
Alen looked at the disturbingly attractive woman in shock. "What do you mean you're gonna lop off my foot?"
The woman in red just looked annoyed with him for some reason. "I mean just that. Your foot is too badly damaged to save. I can fit you with a temporary replacement, but that'll come with some unpleasant side effects while you adjust and again if it's removed. Alternatively, you could just wait and have an organic replacement grown at another facility and bypass the side effects, but you will be short a foot for however long that takes. Now choose. It'll determine where I cut through the bone and nerves."
Having just woken up from his drugged sleep, Alen had assumed the surgery was over, but apparently, they were still in the middle of treatment. His head was still somewhat groggy as he fought through the haze to understand and decide. "Um, well, I don't know when I'll be able to get anything better, but...uh...how unpleasant are we talking here?"
The attractive woman crossed her arms and glared at him as if he was wasting her valuable time. "It varies from one individual to the next, but the side effects can range from mild discomfort to occasional sharp pains strong enough to require medical intervention."
That was when another voice spoke up from behind Alen. He quickly realized it was Vanessa. "Is it not possible for you to deaden the pain receptors in the area while leaving enough nerve function to enable the use of the replacement?"
The woman in red shook her head. "Pain is an essential tool, especially if we're fitting him with a temporary replacement. It'll let him know if something's gone wrong. Without it, he could get an infection or even tear something without realizing it. It's better to err on the side of leaving too much sensation than too little. It can always be adjusted at a proper facility as needed."
On the one hand, that really sounded unpleasant. But on the other hand, who knew how soon Alen could get a replacement grown? What would he do in the meantime? "Uh... I guess...if I have to pick one... I'll take the temporary replacement..."
The lady in red gave only a brief acknowledgment. "About time." Then, before Alen could have second thoughts, the world went dark again.
-
The girl nodded as if receiving some unheard report. "Well, that settles it. He'll be getting a temporary replacement. It'll take a bit longer as we'll have to fit him with some attachments for the augmatics. A rough approximation puts the remaining time at an hour and a half. We should finish cannibalizing the pirate vessel shortly afterward."
Carter turned toward his guest. "Well, there you have it..."
However, the girl interrupted him again before he could finish his thoughts. "Sir, we've got more incoming. There are more of them, and they're more dispersed this time..."
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Poor Alen! That dude has definitely not had it easy as of late!
My Wiki has all my chapters and stories, including the short series and stories that I write for an occasional change of pace or style!
As a reminder, "Of Men and Dragons" Books 1 and 2 are available to purchase in e-book or physical form. (Both softcover and hardcovers are available!) Book 3 is almost done being edited, so I'll just have to get the cover art and formatting done, and it will be available to purchase as well! Hopefully, in no more than a month or two! (Barring more Amazon drama like last time... fingers crossed!)
OMAD Book 1: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09NCPP3PP
OMAD Book 2: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CQ7FQ1ZJ

What a shocker it is that's no white male operators exist in the game. Of course you have every other box that can be checked.
Asian male? Check. Black female? Check. Overbearing and annoying Hispanic announcer? Check. Etc....
It's funny too because there's no doubt whatsoever that the people who will be playing this game more than other demographics will certainly be white men. Why do video game companies do this? Media in general has really been getting Caucasian men the middle finger. Every other group gets more than their fair share of representation but God forbid white men are also included despite making up a bigger portion of the population then any other group of men. It just doesn't make sense if for no other reason than we all know white men are going to be playing this the most so why go out of the way to exclude them?
It's intentional, don't act like it's not. If it doesn't bother you that's fine it doesn't actually really bother me too much but I'm just annoyed that they go out of their way to exclude any group of people... let alone their biggest player base demographic. That's what bothers me it's why go after the people who support your product more than any other?

In India, China, Egypt, Vietnam etc drivers fight for position mercilessly. But if they lose the position to another car, they don’t get mad, it is a fact of life. Also they honk to warn the horde of jay walkers as well. The streets are full of honk-honk sounds. It is part of the ambient.
For those who have travelled or are from another country you know what I mean right?
Right here so often people get full rage mode when honked at. Someone texting when the light change and get honked etc. They either brake check the honker or pull along side for a middle finger, the honker then return a finger in kind.
I see lots at Woodland Hills near the Costco and Westfield mall. Added possibility of guns involved whenever I see a post-honking battle I get away asap.

Will and Sharon set about gathering the things they needed including the spell book in a backpack while I sat with an uneasy feeling. I was nervous and excited watching them flit in and out the room while getting various items. I figured it was best not to ask what these things were or why we needed, what looked like chicken feet, probably asking would delay them and they seem to be in a hurry. Then my coat was being brought to me by Sharon. I must have zoned out because they both had theirs on already. “Come on honey, Wills in the car waiting.” We left heading back to the care home. My heart was pounding in my chest. I opened the window, the blast of cool night air kept me focused and conscious, “Sorry” I said “I need some fresh air do you mind I can close it if you are cold.” I added reminding myself of my manners. I'm in their car, I should have asked first. “It's OK you were looking a bit pale there I was going to suggest you open it” replied Will. We will be arriving soon, I recognise the area. I take some deep breaths, we near the building I can see most of the lights are off in the rooms. “Maybe we should wait for daylight?, that thing is going to be hard to find in the dark”. “Don't worry we won't need to find it. We will summon it into a safe place it can't escape from” Sharon explained as we pulled into the car park “we will go into the kitchen there won't be anyone in there it's after 10pm now I have a key to the back door. Wait here. We will set up the stuff and will come get you when it's ready. We will be 10 minutes tops.” and with that they both exited the car leaving me alone I locked the doors on instinct I thought that thing can't be far away it's probably watching me right now I feel the night breeze on my face. Damn the window I hit the button the whirring started then stopped short an inch from the top. I hit the button again but nothing it wasn't working. Why the hell, what's wrong with this thing? The engine is still running bang! The car rocked as if something slammed into it at speed. I look around searching for the reason that just happened then I see the long black fingers snaking into the opening of the window. I soothed over to the other side of the car and reached for the handle. It didn't work then I remembered I had locked it. I pinch the lock in a bid to flee to the kitchen but I see the death entity's red eyes outside that window. I panic thinking how can I escape it's heads on one side and hands at the other side impossibly squeezing through the gap reaching for me. I'm cowering in the back seat pleading for Sharon and Will to come save me from this thing that clearly wants to get to me “Open the dooooor!” it hissed”, “Open it… Open! IT! NOWW!” it roared. NO! What did I ever do to deserve this!? Tell me why you want to hurt me , kill me, Why?” I didn't need to know why I didn't want to know why I was just trying to keep it busy it seemed as though it knew if it squeezed itself inside the car far enough it wouldn't be able to see me anymore and I would escape “Don't think you can escape me this time human your life is mine. I wondered when you would return to this house of death. I must kill you! ” it hissed “Why must you kill me I haven't done anything to you, you killed my friends they never did anything to you why did you do that I understand you killing the old ones they have lived their lives but why me? I'm young, I didn't tell anyone what I saw, who would believe me?” I have to keep it occupied “But you did see me didn't you that is why!?, now open the door!” I saw light as the door opened from the kitchen. “No you do it I won't help you kill me no way.” I see them approaching quietly reaching for something in the bag. The snaking hand found the door lock and pulled it up. The things hand retreated out of the window as the thing crawled down the car to the now unlocked door it pulled at the handle as I reached for the lock and handle of the other door and bolted to Sharon and Will. I turned to see the death entity slowly advancing after me “Ah ha ha more souls for my collection” it taunted. Will pulled me and Sharon backwards we made our way slowly walking as it advanced on us grinning, showing its weirdly enlarged teeth. They looked too big for its mouth and were a pale blue colour. We reached the door and piled inside Sharon slammed it shut with a huge exhale. “I thought we were gonners for real then. Fuck”. “It's not over that door won't stop it, whatever your plan is do it quickly” I said hurriedly. Will turned they had set up some candles and a pentagram chalked on the floor “Light those candles and stand in the middle he handed us both a lighter and we got the candles lit as the entity was turning the door handle chuckling that haunting laughter that haunts my dreams.
Part 6 to follow soon

Link to AO3
chapters 1&2
chapter 3
chapter 4
chapter 5
chapter 6
chapter 7
chapter 8
chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
The Academy looked normal enough from the distance but blew Gentry’s mind when she finally entered it. First of all, the way in lay through a massive winter garden full of the most luxurious botanical collection she’s ever seen. Not only that, but it seemed to be arranged in a way that offered spaces for hanging out as well as paths in and out. Here and there, G noticed little nooks with people’s voices coming from them and small murmuring streams gleamed in the sun that blazed through the transparent walls and roof. This place looked magical and invited to stay, enjoy the refreshing coolness and peace of mind. But Gentry had a good enough rest in her communal room the night before and was eager to start working on her first assignment that the System had spat out with a congratulating letter. Figuring out the controls of her new wristcomm was simple enough.
DEAR GENTRY!
WE ARE DELIGHTED TO INFORM YOU THAT YOU ARE THE FIRST CONTESTANT TO CLEAR ALL CHALLENGES AND OBTAIN THE STATUS OF AN ASHTAPADAN NEWCOMER! YOUR MEDICAL DATA HAS BEEN ANALYSED AND FOUND ACCEPTABLE.
IN THE ATTACHMENT TO THIS LETTER YOU WILL FIND A LIST OF RULES, RECOMMENDATIONS AND IDEAS THAT WILL DEFINITELY HELP YOU IN THE FIRST WEEKS IN OUR BEAUTIFUL CITY BUT WE STRONGLY RECOMMEND FINDING A BUDDY THAT WOULD BE YOUR MAIN GUIDE AND POTENTIALLY A NEW GREAT FRIEND! IT CAN BE ANY CITIZEN OR A MORE EXPERIENCED NEWCOMER.
YOUR CURRENT POINTS: 0
WHY NOT START EARNING SOME WITH YOUR FIRST ASSIGNMENT?
START ANY BEGINNER COURSE AT THE ACADEMY AND KEEP YOUR ATTENDANCE RATE OVER 80% — WORTH 50 POINTS
(OPTIONAL) FIND SOMEBODY WHO IS WILLING TO BECOME YOUR BUDDY — WORTH 20 POINTS
Without stopping to check if the vending machines offered anything good, G made her way through the dreamy garden and entered the inner yard that looked just like everything here: nothing too eye-catching at first glance but secrets hidden everywhere.
One thing she had already noticed was that most of the people had another piece of technology on their bodies besides the comm on their wrists: a sort of extendable visor that some of them kept engaged at all times. Those who were focused on the screen had a comical look on their faces, a thousand-mile stare, eyes wide even as they were talking to each other or going about their business. It was unclear yet why they would engage the screen for so long though. No one needed this much time to read a notification or check a map.
Take a group of young students by the fountain, for example. They seemed deep in conversation with each other yet their pupils didn’t focus on the person in front, but on the translucent screen over the top part of their faces. Was it some kind of virtual reality helmet?
If so, G needed one, too.
Perhaps she’d be able to make new friends this way.
There was something else that caught Gentry’s eye. Despite her initial disappointment about the severe lack of male hotness in the streets, people of both sexes seemed to really care about their appearance. Even those who probably weren’t naturally stunning were very interesting to look at not least because of the crazy fashion sense everyone here had. Never before had G seen so much variety in what everyone wore: countless variations on different national garments, some looking very traditional, like something one could see in a theatre, some — futuristic uniforms straight out of a sci-fi movie. It didn’t seem like anyone was concerned with gender norms here, too. At least in when it came to the outfits.
G hoped she didn’t look like a creepy stalker when her gaze lingered on a pair of very nicely shaped legs stretching from underneath a plaid skirt that belonged to a young man in the group sat by the edge of the water. A pair of snow-white knee-highs, flat loafers and neat raven hair with some blue streaks completed the image. His clothes fit him very well and weren’t inappropriate in the least: something an old money university student would wear.
A female student that is.
And he wasn’t alone. Here and there, among more conventionally dressed people, there were people wearing all sorts of things: a crazy mix of goth-like apparel but barefoot, men and women with heads covered with scarves, people in strange jewelery that looked like it weighed a ton and so on. Most importantly, no one seemed to care what the others looked like.
Was it paradise? Looks like the demo didn’t lie: it was heaven on earth.
The young man in the middle of the student gaggle caught her staring after all. With a dazzling smile, he waved in her direction as if they were great friends, and G waved back, face heating, hoping there wasn’t anyone behind her this tease was actually waving at. Thank god his shoes weren’t heeled, otherwise she would definitely have a heart attack right here, in the middle of the common area, on her first day.
Did he notice her ogling his legs? Judging by the giggles of his friend's entourage, they all did. The young flirt covered his mouth, eyes wide in mock indignation and pulled his knees in, as if hiding them from the improper attention, getting even more laughter from the rest of the company. G averted her eyes and tried to calm her breathing as she was on her way through the yard again, but before they all disappeared from her field of view, she noticed the coquette stretch his legs again and fall back on a friend of his, embracing the lucky man’s neck in an affectionate gesture, already forgetting G existed.
There was no way she wasn’t going to make some pretty boy do the same for her. Forget the assignment, put that in the list of her top priorities!
At first, Gentry was lost when she failed to find any kind of class schedule and there was no one to ask at the reception desk.
Why have a reception desk if nobody’s on duty?
Soon, however, it occurred to her that there was no schedule: each room within the wide marble corridors had a small display with a handwritten message scribbled on it.
Bachata for beginners
Product engineering (Tuesday class cancelled)
Colloidal chemistry (revision today)
None of these were the Communications course that Jey was talking about, but the variety definitely made G’s eyebrows go up.
Was she just supposed to barge into any class and sign up? Did she have to sign up later if she liked the subject? Was it ok to choose any?
After some wandering around, too scared to just walk in uninvited or ask others for directions, she finally stumbled across the door saying:
Communication & decision making course (Newcomers welcome)
With the desks arranged in a horseshoe and the people of various ages that were also apparently Newcomers, it all seemed comfortably casual. Everyone was chatting as she walked in, paying G no mind so she busied herself with the wristcomm that dinged at exactly the right time to save her the embarrassment of looking for a desk.
Would you like to enroll in this course? Scroll down to read the description.
Was this damn thing a spying device? Did it just know which room she was in? Jey didn’t joke when she said the little thing was going to be her primary aid!
“Are you looking for somewhere to sit?” called a young red-haired woman at one of the paired desks. “Here, this one is free.” She had the auglasses on, like everyone else, but they were off, showing her lively face and a pair of sharp green eyes.
“Thanks,” G said, gratefully taking the offer. “I’m new here, don’t know how things work yet.”
“It’s alright, the course is very engaging, you’ll love it.” — the woman held out a hand — “I’m Sereen, what’s your name?”
G shook the warm palm. “It’s Gentry. And by new I mean I’m new to Ashtapada, not just the course. Literally arrived yesterday.”
“Really?” — S looked surprised — “Everything must be very confusing!”
“You have no idea,” G smiled. “I’m glad someone understands. Everyone’s friendly but acts as if giant mechanical dogs in the streets and a moss garden in the lobby are the most normal things ever.”
“Don’t worry, I was just like you when I first arrived, you’ll get the hang of it soon.”
“Hope so! Is that the lecturer?”
“Shhh...”
Just like everything else in Ashtapada, the lecture started out normal enough only to unfold into something completely alien to how things were normally done.
Apparently, the Communications course involved learning rationality, debating, logic, etiquette and god knew what else. It was supposed to give the future citizens tools to, well, communicate. G was given a booklet with some ground rules for beginners that included entries that sounded like something Sun Tzu would say if he studied debating instead of warcraft.
“The purpose of any argument is not to win it and not to change the other disputant’s mind. It’s to find the truth.”
“Always argue in good faith.”
“Don’t attack your opponent.”
“If attacked, dismiss the attack as if it didn’t happen.”
Well, hopefully, it only meant verbal attacks! G knew too well that when it came to physical violence, it was hard to ignore it.
Most of the rules looked straightforward enough, some were confusing.
“Seek challenge to your convictions. Avoid echo chambers.”
“Don’t seek being right.”
“Be mindful of your audience including yourself.”
“Avoid “Empty arguments” that don’t bring everyone closer to the goal of finding the truth.”
The lecturer, a willowy man of about sixty that drowned in his tweed jacket, started the class with a bit of small talk with the regulars after distributing the booklets to all first-timers. He made sure to give it to G face down so that his photo under the “About the author” title didn’t go unnoticed. He also made most of the “talk” part himself.
“I never took part in a debate,” G told Sereen, who was patiently waiting for the class to begin. “And never seen anything like these rules. Is it actually useful?”
“Oh, believe me, professor Poe will be ecstatic to talk to you about them. He can’t not start discussing his subject at the slightest provocation. Look.” — she raised her hand — “Professor, how was your weekend?”
The man wearily smiled. “That might seem like a meaningless question, Sereen, but it’s actually very much related to the topic we are going to cover today.”
“See?” — S raised her eyebrows with a suppressed smile. G giggled. This promised to be interesting.
“Our friend Sereen is a very polite person, isn’t she?” — Poe smiled at the class but his eyes glided over everyone’s faces, gaze turned inwards like he was reading an invisible text written on the walls. “But as kind as she is, I don’t think she’s actually interested in how my weekend went. Small talk is just a social custom we engage in to strengthen our social relations. Why don’t we just start a day by saying “Hi! I value our relationship and would like to fulfill my societal role!” to everyone we know? I would definitely prefer THAT over the small talk! He-he!”
The audience laughed politely. The guy seemed alright.
“However, just as we use different tools to fulfill this role in different contexts, so can the context of a logical problem steer our thinking towards a rational, that is, right, and an irrational, that is, wrong, answer.”
“Well, that’s not a given,” Gentry mumbled under her breath but it went unnoticed by S, who was already immersed in the lecture.
“Consider the famous René Descartes’s quote "Cogito, ergo sum". Who can translate it from Latin?” — the board behind the thin, almost transparent man glowed, displaying the words.
“Is it really a Beginner’s course?” G asked Sereen in a low voice but her companion was already raising her hand, together with a dozen other students.
“I think, therefore I am,” she said after a curt nod of the lecturer’s permission.
“Very good,” he continued, pleased. “I taught you well. Those of you who attend my lectures regularly are familiar with the notion of solipsism, which states that the only thing we can be sure about is our own thoughts.”
Gentry looked at S with raised eyebrows.
If this is an introductory course, what was the advanced like?
Sereen didn’t seem to perplexed. She was fully following the thread.
“However,” professor Poe said. “I am going to challenge that notion by demonstrating that we can’t trust our own mind when it comes to perceiving reality.”
He looked at the audience with a quizzical eye, and pointed at Gentry with a long bony finger “You, new girl. I want you to close your eyes.”
Why her?
Gentry was only happy to hide behind her eyelids. No doubt the whole room was now staring at her.
Through the blood rushing in her ears, she heard the old man’s voice, “Who was sitting beside you before you closed your eyes?”
“My new friend Sereen,” G answered and heard a little gasp of appreciation from the woman.
“So you know she existed as long as you two were whispering behind my back. However, now that you can’t see or hear her. How do you know she exists?”
“Well, I can reach with my hand and touch her,” Gentry said, demonstrating.
“Yes, this is what most people answer,” Poe said. “You can open your eyes now. But let me ask you this: how would you know it was her, an not some other person that took her place?”
Gentry’s intuition was right: everyone was staring, as if waiting for her answer.
“Well, I suppose— ”
“Hush, it was a rhetorical question,” the professor cut her off. “The correct answer is that you can’t know that. We think we can trust our senses or at least our thoughts, but this is also false. Everyone, look out of the window.”
Everyone did.
The day was as fine as Gentry was annoyed.
What did this pops think of himself?
“I’d ask what you see, but I already know the answer,” he went on. “All of you would say “the sky”. And all of you would be wrong, because sky doesn’t exist. We only see the endless emptiness of the outer space, but perceive it as a blue dome. It’s an illusion, a phantom, born out of our collective unconscious.”
Sereen whispered, lost in the lecture, “Ah, yes, Carl Jung.”
What?
Was it supposed to be obvious?
“But listen to this,” he continued, voice booming like a demiurge’s in the completely silent room. “Listen to this. How many words is it? Listentothis. Our common sense says it’s three words while in reality it’s just a string of sounds I an producing with my mouth. I am literally making you hallucinate the spaces between the words I’m saying. With knowing that our perception is so flawed, how can we know that we even know how to think?”
“I’m sorry, professor, I disagr...” G started but got struck down by his serrated gaze.
“I’ll invite questions at the end, young miss,” he chopped out.
Sereen’s eyes were sympathetic. It looked like most if not all of professor Poe’s students had learned not to interrupt him.
He went on, “Anyway, the fact that you even understand what I am saying is in itself incredible and shouldn’t be possible.”
“But it IS possible, right?” G whispered to Sereen. “I mean, aren’t we understanding this as he speaks?”
“PLEASE refrain from talking unless asked!” professor Poe roared.
Impressive lung capacity for such a frail human being!
G begrudgingly did as she was told. The guy seemed to be enjoying this power trip a bit too much to her taste.
“Now, since most of you,” he put some emphasis on the word to shut up another pair of whispering students. “Most of you think you comprehend my words, you must know that there is a way to tell that something is real, even though we can’t rely on our senses for perception. I’m giving you a minute to discuss with your partners what it might be.”
G considered it. She and Sereen exchanged equally confused glances.
Like a dutiful student, S started summarising Poe’s arguments but Gentry listened with only half an ear. She felt that behind all this over-thinking was a clear and simple answer.
She watched the professor walk along the aisles, tuning into one or another conversation before leaving each with a smug head shake of disapproval.
What was there to think about? Even if they didn’t see the world precisely as it was, something was definitely real, right? The chair she felt under her buttocks, the air around, the low murmur of the students. The annoying professor that… looked a little too translucent.
Gentry waited for the man to approach their desks and tune into Sereen’s musings. As he came so near they could reach out and touch him, Gentry did just that.
To her utter shock, her hand went through the old jacket and sent a wave of static over the professor’s figure, his whole form glitching and flickering.
Professor Poe was a hologram!
Unable to help herself, Gentry said, “No wonder you don’t think anything is real, Professor, you are hardly real yourself!”
The whole roomful of people stared, transfixed, at the surreal scene of a student’s arm disappearing into the teacher’s abdomen.
Gentry looked back at Sereen in search of support.
Was it laughter in her eyes?
Poe’s blood drained from his face, the mouth slacked open, twitching as if trying to form some words, but none came out.
Sereen chimed in, “You never told us you were a simulation, Professor.”
“Out!” Poe gritted lowly so that no one really heard him.
“I’m sorry?” G asked, innocently.
“Out of my class!” he exploded, jumping out of Gentry’s reach with an enraged grimace. “I am as real as you are!”
G stood up and looked at her hand then back at Professor Poe.
How much rage could storm in those watery eyes?
Then, she winked at her new friend.
“Let’s go then, shall we?” she said.
Sereen looked lost for a second, her eyes darting pack and forth between Gentry and Poe. Then, her gaze seemed to cloud a little, as if she retreated into her own head, but when she resurfaced, she nodded with a mischievous smile.
Both young women left the room, the classmates’ sympathetic silence and Poe’s angry seething seeing them off.
***
“What a way to start my first day,” Gentry said. “My hands are still trembling a bit.”
She and S were calming their nerves in the green winter garden, the soothing sound of the little running streamlet at their feet a welcome distraction.
“Believe it or not, his course is actually quite useful,” Sereen laughed. “Who would have thought the old Poe is actually not human? I guess we never thought of poking him in the stomach before. This is going to be the talk of the Academy for the next month or so!”
“Is it? I feel bad now. I guess I’m not getting any points for attending this lecture, right?” — Gentry checked her wristcomm — “It says “zero progress” and something else… ad.. Honi… adhonim…”
Sereen laughed, “Yeah, you adhominem’ed good old Poe, no wonder you got zero credit!”
“What does it mean?”
“You’ve seen the rules of learning and discourse, right?” S said. “There are no-nos, things that aren’t allowed, especially when it comes to Rationality classes and the like. Ad Hominem means an attack on the speaker, not their argument. It isn’t exactly what you did, but I guess it’s the closest thing!”
“Ad Hominem, huh,” G said. “Well, I guess I deserve it then. Thanks for standing by me.”
If it wasn’t for Sereen, G wasn’t sure she would be going to return to the Academy any time soon!
“You just chose a wrong course as your first class, G,” — no doubt about that! — “But another lecturer who works here is much more open-minded and he also teaches Rationality. I think you’ll enjoy him more than our old Poe. His next class is in a couple of days. Wanna come?”
***
DEAR GENTRY!
CONGRATULATIONS ON COMPLETING AN OPTIONAL ASSIGNMENT! 20 POINTS HAVE BEEN ADDED TO YOUR STATUS COUNTER.

I mostly practice field work since there are no courses near where i live. I throw pretty hard with lots of snap, and if i don't tape my fingers i will get painful blisters and callouses on my pointer and middle fingers after half an hour to an hour of throwing. With how hard the pros are throwing i am surprised that not many pros use any sort of tape, the only one i regularly see using it is Madison Walker. I felt very bad hearing about Casey's split finger and his subsequent drop in performance at Northwood. Whenever i'm using tape, and i do put on a generous amount of it (i use a layer of soft, elastic tape and put a different, quite strong, resilient, non stretchy one over it) i never lose any feeling or anything like that, if anything it helps me grip the disc with even more confidence knowing it won't hurt my skin. Why don't pros use it regularly?

With the missed kickstarter, then the diesatert with Steam where the game was taken down nothing else was said. I as one of the first buyers got nothing but a middle finger. Would like to understand what is happening as I read about new team all this.
Pluss apparently the focus of 22 Cans is on Mobila and NFT's instead of Steam and Pc.

I got inno3d RTX 3070 ichill X4 gpu Yesterday I noticed that when I boot up my pc the fans are really really loud for some reason, I've checked the temps after boot it was pretty cool at 36°C Then I noticed that my first fan is not spinning and the middle fan is kinda spinning much much higher to compensate for the stopped fan and causing the noise
I've tried to start spinning it w me finger and it just spin for a sec and stop
How can I check if the fan is completely outnof repair or is there is something I can try to make it work again?

Extremely aggressive driver on the 1&9/tonnelle merge. Non stop beeping at people in bumper to bumper traffic, changing lanes without signal almost hitting other cars, giving other drivers the middle finger
I called #77 and reported it, watch out for this absolute menace. She was on the phone while honking the horn with her elbow
Grey Jeep Compass
License plate L27-PLS
If this is you, you are human garbage

I just cut the nails of my fret hand as short as they go which helped a lot. I've been practicing the D chord and was able to play it once.
What's getting in the way is my ring finger, then I feel like I'm not pressing my 2nd finger hard enough on G. I'm trying to stretch my 3rd closer to its fret but it can only reach closer to the middle...
I don't know if it's a short finger issue or a long finger issue lmao.. because my 1st and 3rd struggle to reach, but my MIDDLE finger curls too far in G.
What I'm also wondering is where the strings are supposed to push. Is it the pad of my finger, like the finger print? The side of my nails, or is it the very tip right under nails?
So far, the way I got the D chord to work was angling my hand away from my body and just letting my 3rd finger be closer to the second fret.
Picture to show what I'm working with. They seem like normal hands.. idk lol

Can someone explain to me specifically why this was removed, and how I’d be able to edit it without defeating the purpose of the entire story?
It was removed for breach of the “CORROBORATION/PROOF” rule, though after reviewing those terms, I don’t believe that I’ve broken them.
“A dream, a nightmare, a hallucination, a vision, a bout of sleep paralysis, is drunk and/or high, was in a coma or otherwise an altered state”— none of these are the reason behind my main character’s paranormal experience, and I’ve given no indication whatsoever in the story to suggest that they are.
In fact, I’ve outright denied the idea that my main character imagined her experience about as much as I possibly could for a story with a first person perspective.
The main character says “it definitely happened. It’s not the kind of thing you can just imagine, and I’m sure now that it wasn’t a dream,” in the second paragraph— a sentiment which she consistently attests to throughout the story, and a sentiment which is never walked back on or brought into question by the narrator.
My narrator was in a sound state of mind at the moment of her encounter, and is practical and methodical in her investigation of what happened. Any implication that she has become mentally unwell occurs long after the inciting incident which the story is built around.
I would like to respectfully request that this story be reevaluated. In the short time that it was active on nosleep, it clearly connected with people. If it cannot stand as is, then I need someone to help me make it fit the guidelines without defeating the entire purpose of the story and betraying its themes.
The nosleep subreddit is filled to the brim with stories in which the narrator’s words are taken at face value. When a narrator in a different story says “I walked to the store,” it’s not like the author HAS to give tactile, irrefutable evidence that the narrator actually walked to the store. The audience simply accepts that the narrator walked to the store. This concept of innate credibility is the bedrock upon which my entire story is built.
I do not believe my work would benefit from being altered to fit these guidelines as rigidly as possible, nor do I think that is a fair standard to hold it to. In fact, if I were to change the contents of my story in such a way, the themes which set it apart from others like it would be lost.
In short, I do not understand why my story was deleted, I do not know how to alter it to fit the guidelines beyond any shadow of a doubt without destroying its central purpose, and I refuse to believe that nosleep is not the right place for this work. I implore you to reconsider my submission, or to at least work with me to find a solution which keeps the story’s themes intact.
Here is my story:
I got grabbed
Last night, when I was home alone, a hand reached out from under the couch and grabbed me.
Nobody was there to see it, and nobody that I’ve told believes me, but it definitely happened. It’s not the kind of thing you can just imagine, and I’m sure now that it wasn’t a dream.
I was watching TV when it happened. The remote fell under the couch and I started fishing around for it without really looking, not wanting to get up from my seat. I brushed it with the tips of my fingers and it slid further underneath.
I was super annoyed— I had to get down on my knees to reach it. I finally found the remote, and that’s when it grabbed me.
As I pulled the remote out into the light, a hand shot up from under the couch and wrapped its fingers around my wrist.
I was able to yank myself away quickly. It didn’t hold on tight— just enough that I felt a little resistance. I jumped to my feet, obviously terrified.
I didn’t scream or anything. I was honestly too scared to even make a sound. My heart was beating so fast that my ears started to ring. The TV was still going, commercials droning on while I tried to process what had just happened.
The hand had only come out about a foot from under the couch. It had an arm attached to it, though I wasn’t able to see past its elbow, and it slinked back below the couch as soon as I pulled myself free from its grasp.
It didn’t hurt, and it didn’t leave any sort of bruise or mark or anything on my wrist, but I definitely felt it, and I definitely saw it.
All I could do was stare at the spot where the hand had appeared. I stood there for what felt like an eternity, until I heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps right outside my front door.
I live in a second-story apartment. It’s a pretty cramped place and a pretty old building, so whenever someone comes over I can usually hear footsteps from the moment they enter the building downstairs.
I guess I was so freaked out by the hand that I didn’t even notice someone was outside until they were already opening the door.
My roommate walked in on quite a scene. She immediately registered how off the vibe was. I could see it on her face.
She found me standing upright in the middle of our living room, TV remote in hand, facing away from the screen while Full House’s laugh track filled the air. I’m sure I’d think it was odd too.
“Hey…” she said, shifting a paper bag full of groceries in her arm while she pocketed her keys, “You good?”
I felt like I was caught with my pants down, but just seeing a familiar face brought some of the blood back to my fingers.
“N—yeah,” I stuttered. I came back online, and flicked the TV off.
I felt her eyes on me as she walked over to the kitchen. There’s no wall or anything dividing the two rooms. Like I said, the place is pretty cramped.
She started putting her groceries away as if everything was normal, but I could tell she wanted to ask what was up.
I kept looking back and forth between her and the couch. I can’t explain it, but I already knew that if I looked under there, I wouldn’t find any trace of whoever (or whatever) grabbed me.
As she started loading up the fridge, I dropped to my hands and knees once again. Without taking even a second to ready myself, I brought my head down to the ground and looked under the couch.
Nothing.
Pretty much what I expected. There was barely enough room for me to squeeze my arm under there for the remote. No way a whole person could fit beneath that thing, and even if they could, there’s no way I wouldn’t have seen them or heard them or something before they grabbed me.
“Seriously, what’s up?”
I looked up to see my roommate standing right behind me, arms crossed, clearly concerned.
I knew I was acting strange, and I knew that nothing I would come up with in the next five seconds could possibly excuse my behavior. I made a judgement call, honestly not really caring about how it would be received.
“I uh… something grabbed me earlier.”
“What?”
“Under the couch. I dropped the remote, and when I picked it up, a hand reached out from under the couch and grabbed me.”
Took her a second to respond.
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“That’s it. A hand reached out and grabbed me by the wrist. It happened like a minute before you got here.”
That part might have been a lie. I actually have no idea how long I had been standing in the middle of the room before she showed up.
“Wait so like someone broke in?”
“No. It’s just like I said. A hand reached out, grabbed me, and then it was gone.”
She just kinda looked at me for a while. I don’t blame her, but it’s not like there was any way for me to sugarcoat it.
“Are you sure?”
“What do you mean ‘am I sure?’ Yes, yes I’m fucking sure!”
My voice broke a little when I said that. I was still down on my knees, like I was praying for her to believe me.
“Okay well obviously that didn’t happen Sam.”I let out a desperate laugh and threw my hands up in the air. I slapped them down on my thighs dramatically and shook my head in exasperation.
“Yeah obviously it sounds fucking crazy but you asked what happened and that’s what happened. I don’t know how else to describe it. I’m just being honest.”
I pulled myself up to my feet and walked around to the armrest of the couch. She kept studying me, probably thinking this was all a prank or something.
“What are you doing?” She asked, arms still glued across her chest.
“I’m checking under the couch.”
I pushed one end of the couch away from the wall. It was pretty heavy, and the coffee table stopped me from moving it too far. I dragged the coffee table towards the TV to free up some space.
My roommate started staring at the spot I was clearing as if she expected to see something there too.
I went back over to the armrest.
“Can you help me?”
She snapped out of her trance and silently went to grab the other side. We pulled the couch away from the wall, revealing a thick rectangle of dust that had not seen the light of day since we moved in a year ago.
I dropped to my knees once more and began wiping away the grime with my bare hands. There was nothing but the floorboards beneath it. No surprise.
I sat there for a second, eyes darting around the floor. No fingerprints in the dust, no scratches or marks or anything. I felt the tension in the room dissipate as my roommate found her voice again.
“I think you must have imagined it.”
I didn’t. There’s no way.
“Dude, no. I felt it and I saw it. Clear as day. It was a hand, and it grabbed me. That’s not the sort of thing you can just imagine.”
She scoffed, any fear left in her giving way to frustration.
“Whatever. This is fucking stupid. I’m going to bed.”
She stomped off towards her room.
“Wait.”
She spun on her heels as I stood up, probably expecting me to tell her I was joking about the whole thing.
“Can you help me flip the couch over?”
She rolled her eyes.
“Sure. But I’m not helping you put it back.”
She helped me lift the couch off of its legs and tilt it onto its front cushions, exposing the fabric underneath. She disappeared into her room and I went to work studying the underside of the sofa.
There was a zipper lining the bottom, but I found nothing inside when I opened it up. Just a hollow wooden frame and a bunch of crumbs.
I sat back against the wall, more tired than scared at that point.
I can’t believe she thinks I’m making this up. Why would I even do that? What purpose would it serve?
As I solemnly went about rebuilding our living room, I decided that the next day (today) I was gonna take off work, wait for her to leave, and really get to the bottom of this.
I didn’t sleep at all last night. Every nook and cranny of my room felt like a door left wide open, with something sinister waiting on the other side.
What if the hand comes back? What if it wants to hurt me next time? How can I even protect myself?
After like ten restless minutes in bed, I decided to move to the floor. I couldn’t help it. I kept imagining the hand reaching up from under the bed and grabbing me again.
I made a makeshift sleeping bag out of my comforter and some pillows, and I laid on my side so I could keep an eye on the underside of my bedframe while I slept. Maybe “slept” isn’t the right word. Even down there, I couldn’t bring myself to close my eyes for longer than a minute.
Eventually sunlight began to peek through the blinds, and I heard some movement within the apartment. My roommate was finally up. I heard the front door close, and it was time to get to work.
I nearly threw my back out yanking the couch away from the wall to reveal the floorboards underneath. They aren’t real floorboards, just the kind of cheap-o fake shit they put in crappy houses to make them look more modern. Our whole apartment is like that— a thin coat of paint slapped over an old building from the 40s or whatever.
My dad actually owns this building. He lets me and my roommate stay here as long as we pay him $500 a month, which is way cheaper than most places in my area.
It’s not really an apartment building to be honest. You can tell it used to be a family home before some realtor swooped in and broke it up into apartments. There are a lot of those around here.
Anyway, the fake wood came up easy. It was only about a quarter inch thick. I was able to pull up the first plank by hammering a kitchen knife into a slit between the boards, and then I peeled a few more away by hand.
After prying away about a dozen of these fake floorboards, I started to realize that I wasn’t going to find anything without making a significantly larger dent. Right beneath the thin layer of fake wood was a layer of very real, very thick wooden beams that seemed to span well beyond the hole I had managed to claw open.
My back crackled and popped as I sat back on my heels to admire my handiwork and contemplate where to go from there. I knew I would need a power saw or some kind of heavy duty tool to get any deeper, but I was afraid of two things:

1. That these beams were supporting the entire second floor of the building, and cutting through them would make the whole thing collapse
2. That going any deeper would lead me into the ceiling of the apartment below us, and whoever lives there would call my dad before I could see what I needed to see.

Regardless of the risks, I knew I had to keep going. I was certain that something was down there. Whatever grabbed me had to have left some sort of evidence.
I can’t stop thinking about that fucking hand.
I’m not supposed to have it, but my dad gave me a master key for the whole building in case of emergencies. He could really get in trouble if anyone found out, but if this isn’t an emergency then idk what is.
There’s a service shed around the back of the building, which has seen none of the love that the main building saw when it was renovated. Decades worth of rusty antiques and rotting furniture line the walls. A shiny, modern tool bench sits unnaturally in the middle of the chaos.
I rifled through all of that shit as fast as I could. I’m not really close with my dad all things considered, and I’m sure he’d be super pissed if he found me out there. He’s so secretive about random shit all the time, and he’s constantly dropping by the building unannounced.
I found the jigsaw under a pile of old newspapers and ran back upstairs.
I probably should have checked the driveway to see if anyone was home first, because the saw made so much noise. The cord barely reached from the outlet to the spot where the couch used to be, but as awkward as the angle was, I was still able to get it in there.
I went as small as possible with my first few cuts. I started with a single beam, cutting out a section about 6x6 inches wide. I slid the chunk of wood out, and, to my relief, didn’t immediately see the plaster that would be my downstairs neighbor’s ceiling.
A tuft of insulation stuck out where I made the hole. I didn’t know that stuff is made from fiberglass or whatever, and I got a really bad splinter when I went to yank it out.
I fished some leather gloves out of my roommate’s closet and got to work on the insulation. I pulled and pulled but couldn’t get a good enough grip to remove anything more than a few bits about the size of a tennis ball.
I went back in with the jigsaw, cutting bigger and bigger chunks until I had cleared a hole about two feet in diameter.
No sign that I was gonna bring the building down, that’s good.
I hacked away for hours. More wood came up, more insulation came up, and when I finally hit a fragile-looking layer of drywall, I knew the jig was up. That’s definitely my neighbor’s ceiling. Fuck.
My roommate and I got in a screaming match when she got home. I made a pretty big mess but I don’t really give a fuck honestly.
I don’t give a fuck if she believes me. I fucking hate that bitch. I told her if she tells my dad what I’m doing, I’ll bash her brains in with the hammer. That shut her up. She left with a bag full of her clothes like an hour later.
Tomorrow I’m going to wait for our downstairs neighbor to leave and start investigating from the bottom-up. If there wasn’t any evidence on the floor up here, there HAS to be something on the ceiling down there.
If I do find something, I’ll post again. I doubt anyone will even believe me, but at this point I just want everything written down somewhere accessible in case something bad happens.
There has to be something down there. Something grabbed me. And I’m going to find out what it is.

She never goes anywhere without me, I'm never left home alone. I never go out anywhere. The only time I have outside the house is when she goes to the store for groceries and me and the baby go along. Thats the most of my social interaction for the next few months until we need more groceries.
She hates that I put on a small amount of light eye makeup and half way decent clothes while she doesn't want to put effort into her look. ("No im just going to the store and I sweat too much who cares nobody is looking at me i want to dress comfortably") ("look at you looking nice and im here in sweat pants and messy hair in a bun but you just have to let me leave the house with me looking like this while you look like that")
So she's started this thing where she makes me aware we're leaving only 10 minutes before our ride comes to pick us up. Thats not so bad right? No, I have to pick out clothes for her as well as dress the baby and dress myself all in those 10 minutes. So I run out the door sweaty and stressed and looking an awful mess.
Now imagine my 5'0 self waddling, huffing and puffing holding a comically large diaper bag, her comically large purse, a 45lb toddler in a large car seat. It's heavy all together and every time we go out I get looks from strangers like "This poor young mother" Shes my sister. While her actual mother walks blissfully beside me not a thing in her hands. Once she's in the cart I get the groceries and so on until we get home where I take in the bags with "Hurry the baby is crying" in my ear every 2 minutes.
Her back hurts because of her weight, my back hurts because of two injuries I never went to the hospital or at least a doctor for because her reasoning is "If there's no visible bone you're fine" even though I had government health assistance so my visits and medication and treatment would have all been free up until I turned 19.
So everytime I have to leave the house carrying heavy items i can hardly support, I mess up my back tremendously. It's the most painful thing and I'm just meant to go about my chores and such because her pain is obviously much worse than mine and im only 20 so im faking and that's that. I'm doing so much damage to my back now that it makes me afraid for when I'm actually suppose to be in pain later down the road. Most days I can hardly move but I have to.
Going anywhere is so stressful with the heavy bags and the heavy baby, much less the store with all the groceries too.
So this time I told her I didn't want to go. She told me her back would hurt if I don't go. I told her I'd stay with the baby at home because I simply did not want to go. Not to mention everyone in town is sick rn and none of them can keep their grubby fingers to them selves around a small child. She was grumbling and giving me looks and asking if I was SUUURE I wanted to stay home. I stayed home.
While at the store she was texting me that she's in so much pain having to put the heavy items in the cart. And all this walking she can't get all the things we need and she was coming home early. And she can't stand to go any further. She's around 400lbs if I had to guess so she's always had back and feet pain. She's completely mobile when she's having fun coincidentally.
When she got home I went outside and usually the person and passenger who give us the ride help with the bags. Its much different carrying them then wheeling them around. But this time when they opened their doors to help she said "No don't help her. Don't help her. She can do it. Don't you help her." With a tone only a mother can make. So they just stared at me while I took the bags in by myself and I was a little embarrassed. She said don't help she didn't say WATCH me.
They wouldn't open the doors for me either so I was having to crawl into the van through the trunk to get the bags in the back seat. It really was embarrassing. When I was finally done she got off and was walking around the house excitedly telling me the stuff she got.
And I'm here sitting on the floor typing this surrounded by groceries im putting away.
Im out in the middle of nowhere two towns away from anything, no car, no neighbors, just me here losing my mind. Sorry for the rant. I'll delete this tomorrow like I always do.

I'm considering buying honor magic 6 pro but I just want to know if Magic OS 8 has that gesture similar in oneplus where a small upwards swipe from lower right/left corner = back, upwards swipe from lower middle is recents.
Also does it have the gesture 3 finger swipe down to capture screen?
I'm currently using OP6 btw.
Thanks