Curious to what fellow achievement hunters thought of 1.37 achievements. What did people like/didnt like? What changes would you have made?
Overall I thought it was a decent bunch but there were a bit too much 'waiting around for x' situations.
It's all coming together
A real ugly speed 5 achievement. Disappointing as this was the flagship nation of the expansion. You'll reform and catch up on tech long before any coloniser can declare on you and then spend the rest of the game waiting for great projects or dev-ing. The 80 army tradition at least made me think a bit, but overall a bad achievement.
Doge Coins
Haven't done this one yet but like the idea. Venice is always fun to play and trade focussed nation into eco hegemony makes sense.
Veritas Vincit
An interesting start but ended with a ton of waiting around for the leagues to form and war to start (not letting you be the league leader is painful). Converting the HRE to hussite before 1550 was definately a mistake, and the hussite incident post victory is super dumb. Recommend creating a save after the war ends and following the solution here
The eagle flies alone
Decent enough achievement asking you to think about your idea groups. Having the ottomans as an ally whilst owning all of Eygpt is interesting. Ended with a lot of waiting around for reg camps to be built. Being unable to get the trading in grain bonus was annoying...
Mayapahit?
Standard 'this sounds like that' achievement. Slightly better than the Inca achievement as I did actually get declared on but after that it was speed 5 until I reached the islands via exploration.
There Khan only be one!
Standard horde achievement, would pair nicely with other horde achievements
Baborg
Finishing this one at the time of writing. 12 assimilated culture groups feels far too grindy. Would have preferred something along the lines of x amount of invidual cultures and 5 culture groups.
Get out of my swamp!
Standard Netherlands achievement, pairs nicely with their other ones.
Timurizz
Guess this is the 'meme' achievment but was able to ally small nations around the ottomans and mamluks so I quite liked it.
The Hungarian Games
Liked this one, playing hungary with a balkans vassal swarm stacking vassal force limit modifiers. Think the achievement is bugged though as I found I had to fight 23 different countries to get credit.

Few weeks back I went out on a last min job to System tech, Had a ground stack system of 8 boxes of line array a side and 2 subs. For around 1/2000 cap seated theatres
As it’s a seated concert with the first row of seats basically touching the stage I had no where to place the subs apart from on the outskirts of the stage. Creating a big power ally through the middle,
the FoH engineer wasn’t happy with the lack of subs on the outskirts of the coverage and kept boosting the bass more and more so there was enough coverage there, but because of this there was basically nothing but sub in the middle of the room ,
As System tech I wasn’t happy with this but at the end of the day I had handed over the system and he’d done what he wanted to do,
So did I have a bad day as a System tech? Or was there not much more I could do ?

^{To preface, all numbers are rough estimates based on existing similar abilities, and of course are open to adjustment. I will only include numbers where I feel they're needed for clarity.}
Passive: New Friends!

Yuumi gains 1 stack of New Friends (max 4) whenever she heals or blocks champion damage with a shield on an allied champion with an ability for the first time. Each stack increases her Heal and Shield power by 7%.

PASSIVE: NEW ENEMIES Whenever an enemy champion attacks an allied champion Yuumi has recently healed or shielded, she gains 8% bonus damage against enemy champions for 6 seconds.
Q: Peekaboo

Yuumi fires a magic missile into a portal 100 units in the target direction, which emerges from a portal 425 - 800 units away, then continues forward for 425 units, exploding on the first enemy hit (before or after entering the portal), dealing 50-250 (+15% AP) ( x Heal and Shield Power) magic damage in an area and slowing enemies struck for 15-35%.

W: Zoomies

Yuumi grants herself a shield for 80-180 (+30% AP) and gains 20% movement speed for 3 seconds. If an ally comes within 200 units of Yuumi while the shield persists, they gain the same shield and its duration is refreshed on Yuumi (but not its amount), and they and Yuumi both gain 12-22% (+100% Heal and Shield Power) Attack Speed for 3 seconds.

E: Purrrr (Range: 200)

Yuumi heals the targeted ally for 40-140 (+20% AP), increased by up to 100% based on the target's missing health (the heal is doubled at 90% missing health).

R: Book of Thresholds (Cooldown: 200/180/160) Target Range: Global

Yuumi channels, flipping through Book for 3 seconds before blinking to the target ally's location and leaving behind a portal for 30 seconds. RECAST: Yuumi channels for 3 seconds before blinking back to the portal's location and healing for 20/50/80% of her max Health.

The goal here is to change her identity into the best roaming enchanter, more in line with the fact Book is supposed to create portals. But instead of having a super impactful ult as far as damage or CC, I opted for making it incredibly strong in its macro movement, being the only pseudo-teleport with the option to go back.

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First Prev
Anglestan
Augustus 5, 1923
Facility 9, Mancheston
Colonel Jacobs
His hands flew through the folders General Jorgenson and Colonel Thatcher had. There were dozens of them, stacked upon each other all filed in alphabetical order. It had only been a few days since he had woken up from his coma and visited his home— now his mother’s grave. He clenched his fists at the thought. The grief and rage threatened to bubble and spill over once again. He took a deep breath and dragged out the exhale, almost to the point where he had emptied out his lungs.
He was the only one with clearance, and so he couldn’t disclose any of what he learned with his team. They would simply have to trust him and his judgment. Which he was sure they would do. His hands went over one of the folders skimming through it. There were multiple secret projects, but the ones with the most notes were Project S.T.A.R, Project L.U.N.A.R.I, Project R.E.V.I.V.E, Project D.A.W.N, and Project T.E.M.P.L.A.R.
The colonel decided to start with the most notes and papers. Project D.A.W.N.
He skimmed through the notes, reading through some of the details and highlighted words. Project D.A.W.N, the espionage project Thatcher had started placed two spies in Verlin who were to report directly to a Crescent general named Sienna Moretti who was apparently on humanity’s side.
So I was right. There was an espionage element. With the recent attacks and Thatcher’s death, however, it’s safe to assume that it had somehow failed. Either they got found out or they betrayed us. Both seem very likely, but if they were found out, it would be possible that they had died.
He read through all of it before setting the folder down. There were no new notes recently. He sighed and assumed that Project DAWN was a failure. Whether or not the agents were still alive and well, it was too risky to check if they had been compromised. It was better to assume that they had been and cut all contact. The only way to find out now was to go there himself and check. I can’t contact them again. There’s no telling if it would still be Moretti or the agents who would see my messages. It’s a big risk, and judging by the state of things, best to assume it failed.
He picked up another folder. This one had the label ‘under development’ on the folder. Project Templar. He opened the folder and was instantly met with a blueprint and drawings of a massive bipedal machine. It looked humanoid with strange proportions and was supposed to be standing at an impressive 30 meters, or 100 feet. The Titanic Engine Mech for Personal Land Assault and Reconnaissance.
It was apparently a joint project with the Church of Sol, utilizing new and advanced technologies he hadn’t heard of. A 203mm Gatling cannon on one arm, while the other had three different weapons. A massive firestarter that utilized a new type of fuel mixture that could theoretically spew flames a kilometer away using a high-pressure nozzle. The fuel was ignited using an electrical spark. The second weapon was a high-powered light weapon that fired a single powerful beam of focused light that was even further amplified by layers of focusing lenses that could increase its output several times. Its third weapon was… a dust domina?
Mark read through the specifications of the so-called ‘sand cannon’ weapon. It was a massive cannon that accelerated tiny particles several times. Each particle was to be electrically charged, and it would travel at immense speeds. Near impossible speeds. The resulting impact of a microscopic particle at such speeds would be enough to form a small crater and punch through armor like it was nothing. This weapon would fire multiple at the same time, which could literally eat away at anything on the opposing end.
In terms of secondary weapons, the titan had two missile launch chambers in front of its shoulder each containing about 40 missiles, and two massive howitzer cannons on top of it. Both are 800mm in caliber. It had massive stumpy legs that served as bunkers for a small platoon on each leg. Each leg had machine dominas and 155mm cannons. Its chassis held two nuclear reactors inside providing for its power and weaponry. Its armor was the thickest and most ridiculous he’d ever read. Two meters of heavy steel armor.
How far are we in terms of technology? This thing looks like it came out of an H.G. Wells sci-fi novel. He thought, shaking his head. It was over the top, but there was no denying its combat capabilities. If it was already under-developed then it must be the first prototype. This has already been approved. Guess I better see it for myself later and check how it's coming along. Construction apparently started just a few months before the invasion.
Next was project L.U.N.A.R.I. It was a project involving Six. “Huh,” he said, continuing to read on.
The Light Undone: Nocturnal’s Adaptive Resistance Initiative. As he read further, his eyes widened. The reason why Six was so special wasn’t just because of her immunity to all strigoi weaknesses, but because of her impressive ability to turn any true born strigoi like her. She could transfer her strain like any other strigoi and transform them into a version of hers. It however only seemed to work for naturally born strigoi. The new species of ‘half-breeds’ were called ‘Blessed Children’ as Thatcher had coined in the folder.
The plan was to turn all willing true-born hemolite strigoi into these blessed children. Able to withstand the sun. Immune to silver. Free from the dependency on blood. They could remove all the weaknesses of the strigoi and after the war— make it possible to integrate them into society as normal citizens living on the surface. The project folder also made mentions of a city-wide draft in Dante and highlighted the possibility of turning all Dantenite true born strigoi into these blessed children and renaming them as ‘Lunari’. A mix of the dark and the light. The light of Sol reflected in the children of the night.
“Thatcher, what the fuck have you been up to…” Mark whispered to himself.
While it was true that it could help in the war effort by utilizing Six and the dantenite population, it would also invite some unforeseen problems and consequences. Would humanity be okay with the Lunari? Would the world even be ready for them? Strigoi who were immune to the sun. They wouldn’t be impossible to kill, but they would be immensely more powerful if we were to take away their inherent weaknesses. This is a gamble. Its gain would only be seen during the war period, but its unintended effects on society could be catastrophic.
He frowned, setting the folder down. It was obviously Thatcher’s main plan; seeing as all her moves could be traced to the path of the eventual completion of this project. It seemed dangerous in the long run, but the duskwalkers and dantenites had been monumental in the war effort. Maybe it was the time the world started to accept them more. Isolation and segregation was definitely not the way to disperse fears and foster understanding.
If Thatcher thinks this is the next step forward… then I’ll put my faith in her plans.
Next up was Project S.T.A.R, or the Superior Tech and Adaptive Resistance. An upgrade to the current hemolite weapons and gear by using new researched studies. The Starfire Pattern Domina. The SFD-23 This thing features a new loading system and magazine, ditching the rotating cylinder most domina used, or the rotating helix magazine design of the current hemolite standard BM-16 domina.
The new domina had its magazine like a box… a strange design but it was certainly easier to handle than the bulky cylinders the helical mags used. In terms of ergonomics, it was smoother and fit more. Its placement however was on top of the domina, just above the barrel. Most of the weapon were to be made of lightweight polymers and the barrel itself were to be crafted out of reinforced aluminium. In addition to that, it had a 10-inch bayonet attached to it.
There were other new things as well, such as the composition of the bullet. Looking at the conceptual cross-section designs, Mark read through its description and how it would function. A .308 cased telescoped bullet covered in a silver jacket with break-away petals surrounding the main body. Inside the jacket was a penetrator core that was to be made of depleted uranium. It had a small amount of incendiary compound and… powdered white phosphorus behind an explosive compound. The thin silver jacket would deform and trigger the explosive compound inside the body. It would blow up causing massive internal damage and release the incendiary materials into the body with the flecks of powdered white phosphorus. The penetrator core could still potentially keep going and hit a second target, or punch through heavily armored targets.
Part of the new Project S.T.A.R was overhauling the armor and gear of not just the Hemolites but the Hunters as well. Starfire Mk 1. Carapace Armor. Carapace? It looked like plates of steel covered in a rubberized coat. It was supposed to be slipped on over the original hemolite body armor. It added a spring-loaded wrist blade to the gauntlet, a thicker coat made of resistant materials, and added extra padding for the knees, shoulders, and elbows.
However, the hemolites weren’t the only ones mentioned in the folder. It was to serve the Hunters as well. “Hunters…” Mark said. “August’s group is part of this initiative too.” He flipped through some of the pages. There were blueprints and drawings of an armored suit. A mechanized suit even smaller and more compact than the jotunn units. The Mark 1 STR battlesuit. It was supposed to hug the wearer’s frame and increase their overall power. It was supposed to be built of titanium alloy and a heavy steel frame with composite armor. It had a cooling system, life support systems that could recycle bodily fluids, and an exoskeleton frame that could increase the wearer’s strength and speed.
However, the real eye-opener was Thatcher’s notes. She had been ranting about the new human evolution, and how the Hunters were the first of the ‘Solari’. She wanted to enhance human genetics and push past the peak of human ability to reach greater heights. Implants and restructuring of the anatomy to make it more efficient. Using the blood of the goddess herself. She must have lost it. These are the ramblings of a lunatic. At least… if she didn’t mention the goddess. Why was the goddess important here?
The writings ended with the words: “See Project R.E.V.I.V.E, for more details.”
Mark eyed the final folder. His hands shook as he reached out to take it. Flipping it open, his hands nearly dropped it in shock. The goddess Helena was alive. There were pictures of her naked form floating in a giant tube of fluid. There were more of Thatcher’s ramblings and excited rants about the possibilities of such a discovery. Resurrection, Enhancement, and Veneration: Implementation of Visionary Evolution.
The goddess is alive?! According to the file, she’s currently under the Cathedral of New Lundun. Not only that, but the file also detailed the extraterrestrial tech that lay beneath the cathedral. So the goddess is real and she’s— not really a goddess, but rather, a vampyr who created herself a human body to stand in the sun, and decided that it wants to be on humanity’s side… what the fuck.
Mark’s frown and confusion only increased as he read on. Thatcher’s notes seemed to nearly descend into madness as she had written about creating ‘the first hundred’, alluding to the 100 members of the Hunters division. Her plan was to revive the goddess, and with her help and expertise in genetics— use her DNA to transform the Hunters into demi-humans. Super soldiers. Literal children of the goddess Helena. They would then don the STR battlesuits, the first of the superhuman warriors to defend humanity. Solari.
Their lightning-speed advancement into technology was heralded by studying the alien tech, which deepened the understanding of physics and engineering. Nuclear technologies, chemical warfare, new material sciences, the mechs, and walkers, it was spearheaded by trying to reverse-engineer technology centuries ahead of our own… for the past hundred years. It wasn’t completely stolen, however. More or less borrowed ideas that had been made into our own with our own designs and implements. Still, the speed at which the Church and the military had deciphered such advancements all by themselves was… impressive to say the least.
Still, the fact that the goddess was alive, and could be brought back was big news. Checking the file for details, he found that the previous general, Jorgenson, had already approved this project. It was their next step as soon as they returned from New Amsterdam; which never happened.
If Helena was alive, then she could end this war swiftly, or at the very least help greatly like she once did during the War of Darkness. Having the goddess back would throw a massive wrench in the Crescent’s plans. It would certainly be something they wouldn’t expect. Not even I expected this, since many sources say that the goddess had already ascended to watch over humanity, while conspiracy theorists claim she had died in battle and that the Church was worshiping a corpse. This could be the trick up our sleeves that no one would even consider.
The colonel quickly got up from his seat and gathered the main files he had read. He placed them in a bag and rushed outside of his office in Facility 9. He went over to a nearby room and flicked the lights on. “We need to go,” he said. In an instant seven hemolite soldiers got up from whatever they were doing and instantly stood in line.
“Sir! Whatever you need of us, sir,” the group said in unison.
They were Hemo-1. His former squad members. He had taken up Louis' suggestion that they be his personal security detail. It was a shame that he had basically placed the best hemolite team out of commission, but after all he had been through he convinced himself that he could be just a little selfish. He didn’t want to lose any more friends. Not on his watch. Not while he was in an office, and they were out fighting.
“We’re going to New Lundun. Better pack up, it’s going to be a long night.”
“Mark,” Olivia said.
Jacobs turned to her direction and gave her a nod.
“Colonel, sir, may I ask where in New Lundun?”
“Liv, you don’t need to do that with me. Please. I give all of you special permission,” the colonel groaned. “It’s so weird. I mean, ‘captain’ was bad enough, but now you’re acting like I’m an authority figure.”
“You… are, though,” Emma shrugged.
“I’m your friend, and Liv I’m literally your partner. Unless you have some kind of weird fetish, save it for later.”
Olivia grinned, shaking her head. “Duly noted!” she chirped.
“That’s better,” Mark chuckled. “Now come on, we have a cathedral to visit.”
“Uhh, I’m not sure if you noticed, but we’re kinda… strigoi?!” Louis groaned. “I’d burn the moment I step in that place! Plus, it’s coated in silver! Anything I even touch will give me burns!”
“Oh come on, Lou. You have fucking gloves on. As long as you’re not a clumsy dumbass you’ll be fine… oh wait.’
“Uh huh, just sayin’ what I think, boss.”
The group headed out and Mark said something on his radio. He then sat on the ground, making his joints pop. The rest of the squad shrugged and followed his example, sitting down on the grass and waiting for… nothing. Charles and Zach looked at each other in confusion. “Uh, sir?” they asked. “Aren’t we supposed to be heading out and traveling right now?”
“Oh yeah, we’re just waiting.”
“Foooor…?”
The colonel gave them a smirk as a loud noise began to make itself known. A hummingbird transport appeared out of the distance and stopped right above them, slowly descending into the grass. “Being colonel has its perks,” Mark said with a smile. He stood up and hopped inside the hummingbird as soon as it landed. “Come on now! We’ve got work to do! Last one aboard buys everyone food later!”
Emma zipped in before Mark could even finish his sentence, followed by Olivia, Phineas, Charles, Zach, and then Louis, who sadly took too long to process what the colonel said, and lagged behind.
“Aw, man! Fuck this shit.”
“Rules are rules, Lou. Prepare your wallet later.” Mark grinned.
With a smile, the colonel pulled Olivia to his side, who blushed for a moment before shaking her head. “Take us up! New Lundun Cathedral! How long would it take?” he asked the pilot.
“About an hour and a half!” The pilot replied. “Less if you want to get there as soon as possible!”
“Take your time! The night’s still young.”
The hummingbird started to lift up, taking them into the air. The group settled down in their seats and watched outside the open. Mark opened up a bag inside the hummingbird and took out some ear muffs built for a strigoi. Extremely loud noises were damaging for a strigoi’s enhanced hearing, so the military started implementing ear muffs for them after complaints from early deployments of the hemolite squads.
The trip didn’t take too long. In only an hour and twenty minutes they had arrived at the safe zone of New Lundun, heading straight for the cathedral. The night mass had just ended and people were leaving the cathedral. “Looks like we made it in perfect time!” Mark smiled. They hovered for a few minutes in the air before eventually landing down right in front of the statue of Helena.
As soon as they landed, the colonel and his group left the hummingbird. Mark instructed the pilot to wait for them. He went straight for the cathedral with his group following behind. He entered inside, clearing his throat. “Hello?”
“Well this is surely unexpected,” an old man said, walking up to greet them.
“Great Grandfather Aurelius. It’s uh, an honor.”
“Please. The honor is mine… I see you’re the new colonel. Yes, I’ve heard the news,” he said. “Would you mind telling me your name, young man? As well as your companions, if they feel so. I usually don’t allow duskwalkers here but, I have nothing against them. I’ll make an exception for your group.”
“Thank you, Great Grandfather,” Mark replied. “I am Colonel Mark Jacobs. These are my friends and security detail. Olivia, Zach, Phineas, Charles, Emma, and Louis.”
“I see, and what brings you here?”
“Since Thatcher’s demise, I was given access to her research and project folders upon taking up the title. I’ve learned about what’s under your cathedral,” Mark cleared his throat. “Would it be alright if we could see it? I’d like to check it for myself. Of course, under your permission and guidance, Great Grandfather.”
The church head looked from Mark to his companions. He pulled a slight frown and hummed. “Do these companions of yours have the clearance? Surely, we wish to keep our secrets hidden,” he said. Mark nodded.
“They do not have clearance to know what is in Thatcher’s folders and her findings,” the colonel nodded. “However, I give them permission to accompany me, and should they discover things for themselves, then you have my word and my trust that I can keep them from spilling state secrets.”
The Great Grandfather gave a short pause before ultimately relenting. “Very well,” he let out a sigh. “Follow me.”
Aurelius walked behind the altar and pulled the same lever, which opened the same staircase leading underground, where Jorgenson and Thatcher had once gone. “Over here, colonel,” he said. “I do not know you completely yet, but this is a big deal of trust I am giving you. Perhaps you would be the one to do things that Thatcher could not have.”
Mark nodded, he and his group followed the Great Grandfather down the staircase. It led down to a massive underground facility, with numerous priests, researchers, and scientists. Libraries, records, instruments, and artifacts of old. It was a treasure trove of learning.
“So,” Aurelius cleared his throat. “What would you like to know about?”
“This isn’t all of it,” Mark said. “Thatcher mentioned a living, breathing, Helena.”
His group behind him let out a soft gasp, but they tried their best to hide their surprise.
“Hm,” the Great Grandfather nodded. “Perceptive young man aren’t you? Very well.”
They were then led into another room, behind a set of heavy blast doors. If the whole group were trying to hide their surprise then, now they could barely contain it. Even the colonel stared awestruck at the things he had seen. Despite the near-magical objects around them, the true shock was the massive starship at the end of the hallway. “It’s impressive isn’t it?” Aurelius said. “All of the goddess’ artifacts and items at our disposal, to use and learn from, to integrate into our own. This is why Anglestan is the most powerful nation in the UHT in terms of development. When it comes to industry, however, that would go to the UNA. But we share our secrets with them. All our advancements are handed to them first before any other nation.”
“This is all amazing, Great Grandfather,” Mark replied. “But this is not what I’m here for.”
“No, it’s not.” Aurelius nodded.
He led them to another room, one that was sterilized and sported advanced machinery. Things that Mark had never even seen. There were screens with luminous green texts that appeared in front of it. Large panels with numerous keys, levers, and dials. Graphs of all sorts and beeping monitors. In the center, was the very thing he had come all this way to confirm. A large cylinder filled with liquid, sporting tubes and pipes connecting to its base. Inside was a woman of large proportion. Four arms, two legs, and six wings. In her bare chest was a symbol of the sun that seemed to glow dimly.
“There she is, there’s you goddess.”
Neither Mark nor his group spoke a word. He walked up to it, eyeing the woman inside. It really is her. Down to the last details. Golden hair, six limbs, six folded wings, and she looks massive. Probably as big as her statue just outside the cathedral. This is it. The very goddess in the history books, the one spoken about in legends and the one worshiped in the Churches of Sol.
“Can we free her?” he said.
The Great Grandfather nearly choked on his spit upon hearing those words. “Free her?! That could kill her! We don’t even understand this technology, let alone control it!” he said pointing at the panels. “The machines you see here are the best and most advanced we have based on what we can reverse engineer, but even then, the consequences of tampering with its functions may be disastrous!”
“I understand, Great Grandfather,” Mark said. “But we are in a dire situation, and the goddess may be our hope of turning this around. Whatever secrets of her tech that you don’t understand, wouldn’t she be able to teach us directly? What good is she floating around in Sol knows what?”
“That is her miraculous healing fluid. She had already built this contraption centuries ago in case anything were to happen to her, that her body’s natural healing could not sustain,” Aurelius said. “During the War of Darkness, Helena was struck with a weapon so deadly, her very cells began to tear away. The Reaper. Dealt to her by Absolem the progenitor. Her flesh was peeling from her body, and she began to decay whilst she still breathed. She entered this contraption and gave strict instructions to the Great Grandfather at the time, not to interrupt the healing process. The machine that monitored her, however, began to fail over time.”
“So this… these screens and panels…”
“Is only what functions we can understand. We took it upon ourselves to rebuild and study it the best we could. What we have right now is only a cheap imitation of a technology we do not fully comprehend,” he said. “It took us decades to even figure out the fundamentals and create a working prototype of this machine. By some miracle, the goddess’ healing process had remained even while we replaced components of technology ahead of ours.”
“But you know how to free her, don’t you?”
“I… yes.”
“Great Grandfather Aurelius,” Mark began. “We can end this war. Imagine what we could do with the goddess fighting on our side. We could advance even further, we could finally end the bloodshed, and we can show humanity that there is still hope. Imagine how people all over the world would feel seeing as their goddess has returned.”
“I wish I had your enthusiasm,” Aurelius said. “But it is simply too risky. The Church’s duty is to protect Helena and her legacy. We keep her alive, literally and figuratively. She nearly died the last time she was involved in a war. Would you risk losing the goddess?”
“Would you risk humanity losing?”
The Great Grandfather fell silent, looking back at Helena floating inside the tube, then to the panels that controlled it. He frowned and let out a long sigh. “The goddess said that we should not interrupt it. That it would end as soon as it was finished. Maybe we should trust her words.”
Mark shook his head. “I don’t spot a single blemish on the goddess. Not a single scratch,” he argued. “You said it yourself that the machine had begun to fail and you replaced components. How would you know that the thing that’s supposed to wake her up was not tampered with? Think about it. What you may think is a useless piece may be integral to the whole machine. Or maybe your replacements were not up to the task. Just because nothing’s happened doesn’t mean its functions have remained whole.”
“Young man, we simply cannot gamble with the goddess’ life here.”
“Have you no faith? Great Grandfather?”
Aurelius stepped back in shock. Mark’s companions looked at each other, clearly surprised as well. “Mark… I don’t think we should keep arguing with—” Olivia tried to say.
“No,” the colonel said firmly, cutting her off. “Great Grandfather Aurelius, do you think that Helena will not be able to pull through if we wake her? How long has it been? A century? How much longer will we wait? She may be immortal but humans aren’t.”
“I'm sorry, but the chances of failure are too high. The probability of her—”
“I don’t care about the probability! Would you rather put your faith in a statistic?!” Mark raised his voice. “I lost my mother to this war! My friends! My job! My eye, and almost my life! I’ve put mine on the line out there! You don’t know what it’s like out there! Was my mother’s death just a probability too? Was she just a statistic to you?! That as long as the numbers are good, no matter how many are lost, we are ‘winning’?!”
“Mark—!”
“No, Liv! He needs to know what’s really going on out there!” he spat. “Great Grandfather, with all due respect, but you don’t have a damn clue what it’s like to be in the field. You’re a man of faith, aren’t you? Take a risk. Everyone else has.”
Aurelius stood there, dumbfounded. He bit the inside of his cheeks and clenched his fists. “For your insolence, I would have had you flogged and stripped of your rank,” he glared at the young colonel. However, his features slowly softened, letting out a soft sigh. “But I have never seen such conviction. Mighty is your faith.”
The Great Grandfather moved over to the panels and reached into his robe, pulling out from around his neck a key with the symbol of the sun. He inserted it into the machine and turned. A beep sounded, right before Aurelius pulled a lever. In an instant, the fluid inside the glass chamber began to drain out into the tubes under it. Slowly, the chamber emptied and all that was left was the nude form of the goddess sitting in the glass.
“Did it work?” Louis asked, stepping forward and looking at the woman.
Aurelius stayed silent, his hands shaking in anticipation. Mark moved toward the glass chamber, when suddenly, the glass opened up like a door, releasing a fragrant mist. They stood there, watching for a whole minute. Nothing. At first nothing. The Great Grandfather looked like he was about to break down. His knees shook as he covered his mouth, thinking that he was responsible for the death of Helena.
That was when… a soft sound was heard. Movement. Olivia immediately went over to Mark and stood in front of him. Ready to protect him should anything happen. Slowly, the goddess moved more, her arms inched to the side.
Then, her eyes opened.

I am working on a project that involves an ESP32 and a Class D amplifier. For Bluetooth audio streaming, I am using the A2DP_Sink library. My phone connects to the ESP32, but when I start playing music, the ESP32 experiences some kind of overflow and crashes. Consequently, the phone gets disconnected.
code:

#include "BluetoothA2DPSink.h" BluetoothA2DPSink a2dp_sink; void setup() { Serial.begin(115200); a2dp_sink.set_stream_reader(read_data_stream); a2dp_sink.start("Audi A4 S-Line"); } void loop() { } void read_data_stream(const uint8_t *data, uint32_t len) { float input[len / 2]; float output[len / 2]; for (int i = 0; i < len / 2; i++) { input[i] = ((int16_t *)data)[i] / 32768.0f; } process_audio(input, output, len / 2); int16_t i2s_data[len / 2]; for (int i = 0; i < len / 2; i++) { i2s_data[i] = output[i] * 32768.0f; } // SEND OUT TO I2S-DAC } void process_audio(float *input, float *output, int len) { // Simple pass-through for now for (int i = 0; i < len; i++) { output[i] = input[i]; // DSP } } 

When i turn on or reset i get:

ets Jul 29 2019 12:21:46 rst:0x7 (TG0WDT_SYS_RESET or POWERON_RESET),boot:0x13 (SPI_FAST_FLASH_BOOT) configsip: 0, SPIWP:0xee clk_drv:0x00,q_drv:0x00,d_drv:0x00,cs0_drv:0x00,hd_drv:0x00,wp_drv:0x00 mode:DIO, clock div:1 load:0x3fff0030,len:1344 load:0x40078000,len:13964 load:0x40080400,len:3600 entry 0x400805f0 

I get automaticly disconected if i play audio. And some more code gets thrown on monitor:

Guru Meditation Error: Core 0 panic'ed (Unhandled debug exception). Debug exception reason: Stack canary watchpoint triggered (BTC_TASK) Core 0 register dump: PC : 0x40197dd2 PS : 0x00060836 A0 : 0x800d1d7a A1 : 0x3ffcdbc0 A2 : 0x3ffcfbe0 A3 : 0x3ffcdbe0 A4 : 0x00000800 A5 : 0x3ffd1bdc A6 : 0x00000000 A7 : 0x3ff4e0c4 A8 : 0x000007e0 A9 : 0x3ffcfb60 A10 : 0x3ffd1b60 A11 : 0x00000000 A12 : 0x00000000 A13 : 0x3ffc3d80 A14 : 0x3ffc3d40 A15 : 0x00000001 SAR : 0x0000001f EXCCAUSE: 0x00000001 EXCVADDR: 0x00000000 LBEG : 0x40159008 LEND : 0x40159020 LCOUNT : 0x00000000 Backtrace: 0x40197dcf:0x3ffcdbc0 0x400d1d77:0x3ffcdbe0 0x401981f6:0x3ffd1c10 0x400d22db:0x3ffd1c30 0x4011cc3d:0x3ffd1c50 0x40114bd5:0x3ffd1c90 0x40114b6b:0x3ffd1cb0 ELF file SHA256: 2288a77fda4ba6db Guru Meditation Error: Core 0 panic'ed (LoadProhibited). Exception was unhandled. Core 0 register dump: PC : 0x40085574 PS : 0x00060834 A0 : 0x800852f0 A1 : 0x3ffc2020 A2 : 0x00000000 A3 : 0x3ffc2070 A4 : 0x00060824 A5 : 0x3ffc2160 A6 : 0x00000009 A7 : 0x00000200 A8 : 0x3ffc2160 A9 : 0x3ffc2140 A10 : 0x3ffbfbe8 A11 : 0x3ffc2070 A12 : 0x3ffbfa2c A13 : 0x00000001 A14 : 0x60000000 A15 : 0x3ff40000 SAR : 0x00000017 EXCCAUSE: 0x0000001c EXCVADDR: 0x00000008 LBEG : 0x400912d8 LEND : 0x400912e3 LCOUNT : 0x00000000 Backtrace: 0x40085571:0x3ffc2020 0x400852ed:0x3ffc2050 0x40085b63:0x3ffc2070 0x4008775c:0x3ffc20b0 0x4008804a:0x3ffc20d0 0x4008c2fa:0x3ffc2100 0x4008cdef:0x3ffc2120 0x400853ba:0x3ffc2140 0x400856d9:0x3ffc2160 0x400856bb:0x00000000 <-CORRUPTED ELF file SHA256: 2288a77fda4ba6dbRe-entered core dump! Exception happened during core dump! Rebooting... ets Jul 29 2019 12:21:46rst:0xc (SW_CPU_RESET),boot:0x13 (SPI_FAST_FLASH_BOOT) configsip: 0, SPIWP:0xee clk_drv:0x00,q_drv:0x00,d_drv:0x00,cs0_drv:0x00,hd_drv:0x00,wp_drv:0x00 mode:DIO, clock div:1 load:0x3fff0030,len:1344 load:0x40078000,len:13964 load:0x40080400,len:3600 entry 0x400805f0 

I checked what is inside variable "data" that gets recived, and there are all just 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0...... , like a lots of them.

First/Previous
The travel took on a less gloomy quality in the day that passed since Gemma’s self-reflection and although there remained a queer distance in her eyes, she seemed in better spirits in losing the weight of the words.
It was a night just beyond Wabash Crevasse that we pushed on till sunset was almost upon us and we were each tired and the food stocks ran low and so we found harbor in a half collapsed cellar where a home once stood; it was only after examining the slatted, rotted boards of the old place, fallen over, tired with decay, that we spied the cellar doors intact; sheets of door metal plied us with safety from the outside world and the interior of the place stank of mold and the deeper recesses were collapsed, but there was a cradle to crossbar the stair hatch and I put my prybar there for the night. We finished the water and canned tomatoes, and I smoked a cigarette, staving off the inevitable doom which would come with the dwindling of our supplies.
I’d peeked through the space where the doors met at the cellar’s entry and watched the full darkness there while the youngins spoke of life and the trivial pursuits of it and I hardly said a word besides.
Sitting on the lowest step with Trouble dumbly maintaining her station by me, by the low glow of the space in the threshold, I saw they’d pushed their bedrolls together and Andrew had fallen asleep with his arm over Gemma’s shoulder and her eyes glowed with shine from the crack, blinked a few times while seeing me; she too eventually drifted to sleep, and I spent time by the secured door.
Gunshots rang across the stillness, and they stirred from their quiet slumber and Gemma asked, “Harlan, is it alright?”
I moved to the space there at the doorway again and listened and watched what I could through that crack and nothing beyond came. “It’s safe. I’ll be up a bit longer. I’ll watch.”
Andrew asked, “Can’t sleep?”
“I’ll sleep in a bit. Don’t worry about me. Rest. Sleep good and we can put more behind us.
They sat up, legs crossed triangle-wise, and Gemma spoke again, “Why do you have such a hard time sleeping? It seems I’m asleep after you and only awake after you too.”
“Yeah,” said Andrew.
“It’s cool at night. I can listen to the wind.” I shrugged.
“You should be the one that tries to get some sleep,” said Andrew.
I said nothing.
They reached out their arms and I shook my head.
“Here,” Gemma said, “Move your bedroll closer.” She reached across the dirt floor of the cellar and dragged my splayed roll so that it sat beside hers.
“I’ll sleep later.” I turned my attention back to the door and ignored them till their sounds of sleep could be heard. The Alukah was nowhere and did not tap on the door that night and when I moved to sleep, I shimmied onto the roll beside them, facing away on my shoulder; the dog followed, laid on the bare dirt beside me and I held the mutt.
Though I refused a noise as they stirred in the absolute darkness, I felt Gemma’s arm fall over my own shoulder and felt Andrew’s hand touch my back, and water traced the bridge of my nose and I slept deeply thereafter.
There was no breakfast without food, and the water was gone; I felt the eyes of the dog on us as we packed up our belongings that next morning and I tried not to imagine the poor animal skinned over fire. I smiled at Trouble, patted its head, scratched its chin; she sniffed my hand like she was looking for something that wouldn’t be found.
We went west again, ignoring roads and pushed through straight wasteland where nothing was and no one was, and with every dry footfall on the dry hard ground, I wished for rain, and I wished that when it had rained, as infrequent as it was, that I had been wise enough to save what we could from the sky; that sky was red and swollen and refused to burst. We pushed on through strange dead thickets where grayed and twisty yellow branches lurched from the ground into the sky like even they too wished for an end to all the suffering. It was days more till we would see Alexandria and though I could stave off hunger (thirst too, if necessary), I was not so certain that the children would be able to push on without it; they did not complain and watched the ground in our march and maintained higher spirits than I could’ve imagined from them.
Early in the day, they spoke often, and I listened and as they wore on, their words came less and even the dog seemed in a lower mood for the unsaid predicament; me too.
Gemma broke the silence on the matter by saying, “What are we going to do about food? Water?”
“We’ll push on.”
“We could turn back?” asked Andrew.
“The more time we spend out in the open, outside of a city, the more likely it is that the Alukah will catch us unawares. Tighten your belts.” Our feet took us around a dilapidated truck, an old thing with a rusty hook which dangled off a rear arm. “Save your urine.”
They made faces but did not protest.
“Does that work? You ever drink pee?” asked Andrew.
I laughed, “I thought we’d be there by now. I took us too long by trying to drop the scent of the Alukah. That thing’s hunted us for days—last night was the first time it ain’t bothered us. It’s got me wondering why.”
Gemma piped up, licking her dry lips before speaking, “Do you think that monster ran into those scavengers we saw?” Then I caught her shooting a look at Andrew, “At least we warned them.” Her smile was faint and almost indiscernible as one.
I shrugged. “Can’t say. Don’t think it’s smart to turn back. Won’t be long and we’ll touch the 40 and then it’ll be a straight on to Babylon—couple of days—can’t turn back though. Maybe without food; that’s doable. Water’s the worst, but if it comes to it,” I paused and looked on the weathered faces of the children, on the lowered head of Trouble which followed her nose across the ground (it searched just short of frantic), “Like I said, ‘save your urine’.”
The first pains of hunger held within me brought up some reminiscence and I wished for nothing more than to hold Suzanne; I could nearly smell them and in the swaying walk which took us on past toppled townships, I held long blinks where I could nearly make out their face and if I really pushed the limits of my imagination, I could feel them. In those moments, as we passed dead places, rotted pits of despair, I could think of little more than their presence. Though I knew it was a dangerous game, hoping for more than I was worth, I hoped for Suzanne then and I wished that I’d taken them up on their offer to travel to Alexandria with them; it could’ve been home—it never was in all the times I’d gone there, but who knows? The thoughts of Babylon brought forth their gardens; the wild gardens and the water which flowed freely through their pipes. I wished I was a different person entirely and that too would’ve been better for Suzanne; how it was that they’d seen anything in me, I don’t know. How it was that they could stoop to the level of being with someone like me—I warded off that thought, because to place the blame there would certainly be unfair. I thought of my love plainly and wanted a different life more suited to them.
Imaginations played more furiously, and I remembered the evening when Dave stopped me from leaping from that roof—it’s doubtful that he even realized that he’d slowed my demise; perhaps he did know—I wished then that I could ask him. Too kind for the world. People too kind for the world were scarce and hardly worth the trouble. Yet, there I was, chaperoning those two across the wastes.
Gemma was a broken person when I’d found her, tortured in Baphomet’s well; Andrew was a dullard boy who’d lost his hand. What a silly predicament.
I stopped in my movements and swiveled on my heel to catch Andrew by the shoulder. “You still got your hand, don’t you?”
In good humor, the boy grinned, lifted the nub on the end of his left forearm to show me, “Nope.”
“Dammit, no! The hand in the jar!”
Andrew raised his eyebrows. “In my pack.”
“Stop,” I commanded Trouble; the dog hardly recognized my words and continued a way then circled back, sad eyes looking up from where she took to sit by my side. Gemma, both arms dangling loosely from her own pack’s shoulder straps, took into the circle we’d formed.
The girl asked, “What about the jar? It’s nasty, but I guess it’s his.”
“I think that’s it,” I said. I took Andrew by his shoulders, looked him in his eyes, “We could use it!”
“What?” The boy almost laughed in the display of our concern. “What’s that got to do with anything?”
“I think I’ve got it! It’s good for a trap.” I shook him; maybe too hard. I almost smiled. “It’s worth a shot!”
“It’s mine.” He bit his top lip, withdrew from me.
“You’ll feel differently about that,” I said.
Gemma placed a hand on Andrew’s pack and tried ripping it open. “Give it to him!” shouted the girl.
The boy whipped from her grasp, and he spun on his feet, and panic stood on his face. “It’s mine, isn’t it?”
I took a step forward, “No, not anymore.” I put out my palm, “Give it.”
Andrew nearly flinched at the thought of it and shook his head a little. “Why?”
“I told you why,” I said.
“You don’t even know if it’ll work, do you?” his words were long in protest.
The girl started again, “Andrew, please.”
He locked eyes with Gemma and once again, his bottom teeth came up to meet over his top lip and he moved his jaw methodically with contemplation.
“What does it even matter?” she asked.
“It’s mine. You don’t know what it’s like.”
“Don’t be ridiculous!”
“C’mon,” he said, but his pack straps fell from his shoulders, and he hunkered down on the ground and opened his bag; his right hand plunged into the recesses therein and withdrew the jar with his severed left hand. He held the object up, refusing to come up from his open pack, keeping his eyes on the ground. “Take it then.” He shook the jar; its contents sloshed with liquid decay.
I grabbed the thing, held it to skylight; the remains within had congealed and rotted and lumps nearly floated in the brownish liquid which had formed in the base of the container. I shook it and stared for a moment at the miniscule debris which floated alongside the hand; each of its digits had swollen and erupted to expose bone; some had come away in pieces. “Tomorrow,” I said and nodded.
We gathered ourselves and Andrew pulled his pack on again and we moved, Trouble still looked sorry and the boy remained quiet while the girl chattered on with questions while we took through the dying ground in a formation with the dog on point then me then the children.
“What will you do with it?” she asked me.
“Not sure yet.”
Andrew made a noise like he wanted to say something but didn’t.
“You think it will work?” asked Gemma.
“Nothing’s a guarantee. They’re smart—Alukah.”
“Smart enough to figure out a trap?”
I shrugged. “We’ll find out.”
“We could put stakes in a pit.”
“Keep on the lookout for a building. Something with multiple floors.”
With that, we moved on, found a worn, mostly destroyed road and we fell into a travelling quiet and the thought of hunger or thirst arose again, and I pushed it down—though I knew the uneasiness could only last so long before savagery would overtake the human condition; the kids seemed strong enough, but I kept an eye on the dog too. Savagery belonged not only to humans, after all.
The ground of the wastes was harder when it was quiet, and it was flatter further west. The sky—red and full of thin and transparent drifting clouds—seemed an awful sight when stared at for too long; it was the thing which stretched as if to signal there wasn’t an end in any direction, as if to declare we had much more to go till safety. Wanderlust is a thing that I believe I’ve felt before, but under that sky, with those two and the dog, I didn’t feel it at all. It was doom that I felt. Ignorance and doom. And it was all because I was certain I’d made all the wrong mistakes, and it was coming back to me. I was experienced. We should’ve had food and water. Perhaps there was some deep and nasty part inside of me that had intended to sacrifice them along the way. The words of the Alukah might have rung true: You say you make no deals, but I smell it. I think you’d deal.
Surely, I felt differently. Surely.
“Getting darker,” called Andrew as we came to where signposts—worn and bent and barely legible—told us of a place once called Annapolis and the buildings were nearly gone entirely; places, maybe places that were once homes, were leveled—I was briefly caught in imagining what it might’ve been like all those ages ago. As are most places, it was haunted like that and when we came to a long rectangular structure of metal walls—thin walls—we took it as a place for rest for the night.
It once served as an agricultural station, for when we breached its entry, there were a line of dead machines—three in all—cultivators or tillers which stood higher than any of our heads and Gemma asked what they were, and I told her I thought they were for farming. The great rusted bodies stood in quiet shadow as we came through a side passage of the building and the great doors which had once been used to release those machines from the building stood frozen in their frame. I approached the doors, lighting my lantern and motioning for the children to shut the door we’d entered through.
Upon closer inspection, it seemed the doors would roll into the ceiling and the chains which held the doors in place were each secured with rusted padlocks—I removed my prybar from my pack and moved along the wall of doors, giving each old lock a smack with the weapon; each one held in place, seemingly fused there through years of corrosion, and I rounded the cultivators once more, back to the children, near the side door where they’d discovered a rickety stair frame which crawled up the side of the wall to a catwalk; along the catwalk, a levitated box stood at the height of the structure, stilted by metal legs, and we took the stairs slowly with the dog following close behind; the poor mutt was mute save the sound of its own shuffling paws.
The metal stairs creaked under our weight and Gemma held her own lantern high over her head so that the strange shadows of the place grew longer, stranger, and suddenly I felt very sure that something was in the dark with us, but there was no noise except what we made. My eyes scanned the darkness, and I followed the children up the stairs till we met the overhang of the catwalk and I peered into the shadows, the blades of the cultivators—far extended on foldable arms—struck up through the pool of blackness beneath us and I felt so cold there and if it were not for the breath of my fellow travelers, I might have been lost in the dark for longer than intended—lost and frozen and contemplative.
“There’s a room,” said the boy, and he pushed ahead on the hanging passage, and he was the first to the door. “Boxes,” he said plainly.
Upon coming to the place where he stood, Gemma pushed her lantern over the threshold, and I saw what he’d meant as I traced my own lantern to help; the room was crammed with plastic totes and old metal containers of varied sizes. There seemed to be enough empty space to maneuver through the room, but only if one watched their feet while they walked. Carefully.
We moved to the room, and I found a stack of crates to place my lantern then motioned for Gemma to douse hers. In minutes, the place was rearranged so that we could sit comfortably on the floor; crates lined the walls precariously and we breathed heavy from the work done, but we began to unpack and upon watching the children while I rolled a cigarette, I felt a pang of guilt, a terrible summation—all choices in my life had led me here and with them and perhaps it would have been a better world for them without me.
Mentally shrugging this thought away, I lit my cigarette, inhaled deeply, and then withdrew the jar which Andrew had handed over. I held it to the lantern to examine it. The grotesqueness of it hardly phased me and I watched it more curious and hopeful than disgusted.
“I hope it’ll work,” said the boy, “Whatever it is that you plan on doing with it.” He grimaced and maintained a further silence in patting his bedding for fluff. The dog moved to him, and she pushed her forehead against him where he squatted on floor. The boy scratched Trouble’s chin and whispered, “Good girl,” into the top of her head where he’d pushed his own face.
“I’m hungry,” said Gemma; she placed her chin in her arm while watching Andrew with the dog. She sat on her own flat bed there on the floor and stated plainly the thing that I’d hoped to ignore for longer.
“I know.” I took another drag from the cigarette and let the smoke hang over my head. “The dog?”
Andrew recoiled, pulling Trouble closer into his arms.
I smiled. “It was a joke.”
Andrew relaxed, but only a moment before Gemma added, “Maybe.”
The boy narrowed his eyes in the girl’s direction, and she shrugged. “If it’s life or death.”
He didn’t say anything and merely continued stroking Trouble’s coat.
That night, we slept awfully and even in the complete darkness, I felt the cramp of the storage room and the angled shapes of the tools that protruded from the containers on all sides remained permanent well after we’d turned the light off and it felt like those shapes were the teeth of a great creature like we were sitting inside of its mouth, looking out.
Trouble positioned herself partially on my chest, her slow rhythmic breathing brought my thoughts calm and I whispered to her in the dark after I was sure the others were asleep, “I promise it was a joke.” And I brushed the back of her neck with my hand and the animal let go of a long sigh then continued that deep rhythmic breathing.
Still without food or water, the following day was the true indication of the misery to come. Gemma’s stomach growled audibly in waking and Andrew—though he kept his complaints to himself—smacked his lips more often or protruded the tongue in his mouth in a starvation for water. The room, in the daylight which peered through pinpricks of its half-decayed roof, seemed another beast altogether from its nighttime counterpart; it was not so frightening. Again, I admonished myself for the lack of preparation, but there was another thought that brought together a more cohesive feeling; we had a possible plan, a trap for the demon that’d been following us.
We went into the field to the west of the building where there was only dirt beneath our feet in the early sunlight and in the coolness of morning air, I nearly felt like a person. The sun crested the horizon and brought with it a warmth that would quickly become overwhelming—in those few minutes though—it felt good enough. I wished for the shy dew and saw none. The weirdness of holding Andrew’s rotting hand in a jar momentarily caught me and I almost laughed, but refrained and the dog and the children looked on while I held the container up and suddenly, seeing the congealed mass of tissue floating in its own excretions, I was overcome with the urge to run, the urge that nothing would ever be right again in my life, and that I was marked to be that way.
I blinked and tossed the jar to Andrew. “Say goodbye,” I said. He fumbled after it with his right hand and caught it to his chest.
“It’s strange you care so much anyway,” said Gemma, shrugging—her eyes forgave a millisecond of pity and when Andrew looked at her, still holding the jar in his right hand, she smiled and stuffed her hands into the pockets of her pants.
“We’ve enough oil, I think,” my voice was raspy from it being early, “Enough for good fire, but if we use it, it’ll mean a few more dark nights on our way.”
“We’re going to set it on fire?” Andrew pondered, keeping his eyes to the contents of the jar. “It worked good enough last time. It’ll work,” I nodded, “I has to, doesn’t it?”
His dry lips creased into a brief smile, and he tossed the jar back to me and I caught it.
“Let’s dig,” I said.
Without much in the way of proper tools, we began at the ground under us with our hands, then taking turns with my prybar till there was a hole in the ground comfortably large enough to conceal a human head and I uncapped the jar and spilled it contents there and we covered it back and I lightly tamped it with my boot. My eyes scanned the outbuilding we’d taken refuge in the night prior and then to the street to the north then to the houses which stood as merely rotted plots of foundation with frames that struck from the ground more as markers than support. “I’ll take up over there across the street when it gets dark. I want you two in that storage room before anything goes off.”
“We can’t help?” asked Gemma.
“You can help by staying out of the way—the mutt too,” I said; the words were harsh, but my feelings were from worry.
“Wouldn’t it be better if we stuck together?” asked the girl.
I shook my head. “You stay in the room and keep quiet. No matter what you hear, you stay quiet and safe.”
“That’ll put you at a bigger risk,” Gemma furrowed her brow at me and shifted around to look out on the houses across the street, “There’s hardly any cover over there.”
The boy nodded, smacked his lips, and rubbed his forearm across his mouth then audibly agreed with her.
“Doesn’t matter,” I said, “No matter what you hear happening outside, no matter, you don’t open the door and you don’t scream—don’t make a noise at all. Alright? Even if you hear me calling you, you don’t do it.”
“Pfft,” Gemma crossed her arms and kicked her foot against the ground. The way her eyes seemed hollowed with bruising showed that the irritation would only grow without food. “Alright,” she finally sighed.
Andrew looked much the same as she did in that; he swallowed a dry swallow then stuffed his hand into his pocket and looked away when our eyes matched.
We gathered our light oil. Altogether, it seemed enough; rummaging through the room of the outbuilding we’d earlier taken refuge within, we managed three intact glass containers—the only ones found that wouldn’t leak with liquid; two were bottles and the third was the jar that’d once kept Andrew’s hand. With that work done, we sat with three Molotov cocktails within our huddled circle of the storage room.
“Is it enough?” asked Gemma.
“We’ll see,” I began rolling a cigarette to ignore the hunger and the thirst.
Andrew took to the corner and glanced over his shoulder only a moment before a steady liquid stream could be heard and when he rotated from the wall once the noise was finished and he held a canteen up to his nose, sniffed it and quivered and shook his head.
As the sun pushed on, I scanned the perimeter outside, and they followed. Far south I spied a mass of shadow inching across the horizon and Gemma commented, “What’s that?”
I pushed the binoculars to her and let her gaze through them.
“A fiend—that’s what we called it back in the day anyway. A mutant.”
She held the binoculars up and frowned. “A mutant? So, it was once human?”
“A fiend was once many humans.” I pointed out to the horizon though she couldn’t see me doing so and continued, “If you look at the edges of its shape, you’ll see it’s got limbs galore on it. Sticking up like hairs is what it’ll look like at this distance. Those are arms and legs. It’s got faces too. Many faces.” I shuddered.
“I can barely see any details,” she passed the binoculars to Andrew, and he looked through them, “What’s it do?”
“What?” I asked.
“What’s it do if it catches a person?”
“It pulls people into it. Makes you apart of its mass. Nasty fuckers.”
Andrew removed the lenses from his eyes and held them to his chest and asked, “It won’t mess up your trap, will it?”
“We’ll keep an eye on it,” I said, “You don’t want to mess with a fiend unless you have to.”
First/Previous
Archive

I keep thinking about my experience in academia (Ph.D. and postdoc), an unsuccessful attempt to escape and how I dug my grave with my own hands.
I keep reading about recent developments in US biotech industry and its has been absolutely disheartening. The job market right now is awful and it has not bottomed out.
I cannot help, but thinking how did I arrive at this point and what could I have done to save myself???
I am speaking here about my experience in life sciences. I hope that the situation is better in other areas, but life sciences are absolutely over-saturated, over-flowing and under-paid area of STEM, probably along with chemistry.
Long time ago, after 1 year into the Ph.D. program, I got a weird feeling. I quietly approached people in the lab, with whom I was on friendly terms and they confirmed my worst expectations. Essentially, the unspoken (and un-communicated!!!) assumption was that after a year or so a Ph.D. student should show to the PI outstanding results, worthy of publication in "Nature", "Science" etc. Obviously, with no help, no guidance, no support. The PI did not want to tarnish his academic CV with publications in low- or medium-impact journals! So, if you could not show a potential for a publication in "Nature" (or similar journal), the PI would simply lose interest in you and "dis-own" you. This meant no support of any kind, no interest in your defense and no recommendation letter. Nothing! I saw this done to several people in our group. The PI tried (in some cases very successfully) to sabotage careers of his subordinates.
Remainder of my Ph.D. was absolute mental torture. I knew that without support of the PI I had not a single chance for academic career. Basically, academic career was dead for me. Every day I experienced a mental torture of senseless work. I knew that it was absolutely pointless to continue my Ph.D. The project was going nowhere. The PI lost all interest. By then I knew very well, how competitive and cutthroat was academia. I could have just sat in my office, collected stipend for another year or more and walked away. There was no point of doing anything. It was like digging a hole in the ground and then filling it back with same soil. Again and again and again! Every day! Coming to the lab, doing senseless work, knowing that it was all meaningless and continue doing it over and over -- just to have something to put in the thesis. This experience crippled me to the point that now I absolutely cannot stand any meaningless work.
I defended my Ph.D. and somehow got a postdoc in a shitty lab. 3 years of my postdoctoral experience could be described by one word: abuse! Constant lies, gaslighting, micromanagement, disrespect, threats, being underpaid, being overworked. I clearly remember that I cried because I did not have a courage to commit suicide.
I tried to seek on-line, on various forums advice on how to get out of this situation. To put it short, I was "trolled" and bullied by academics to the point of mental meltdown.
Recently I tried to find a career coach / mentor. Needless to say, my search was unsuccessful. There is no help out there! Sure, there are people that gladly will take your money in return to sugarcoated fluff. But that's it!
I have been thinking a lot about career coaching / career guidance. You know what? Absence of good advice / a lot of bad advice was, probably, a final "death blow" to my aspirations.
First of all, I did not understand how hiring works and no one explained it to me. It is not that there is a great mystery about hiring, it is that no one ever explained it to me. Secondly, I falsely believed that I could capitalize on Ph.D. itself and a set of so called "transferable skills". Lie! No one hires based on transferrable skills! Transferable skills == soft skills. If you have only transferable skills = soft skills, you can get a job of an admin assistant. Because you need good communication skills and critical thinking when scheduling meetings and taking minutes. But! If you have transferable skills and a Ph.D., you will NOT get a job of admin assistant, because you are "over-qualified".
I always knew that my Ph.D. in molecular biology was completely worthless! Yes, I had to learn every single method and protocol myself, without any help! Yes, I worked 60 hr and 80 hr weeks. But you cannot put this on resume and hope that HR will value it. Even today, years after I completed my Ph.D., I can explain every single methods and every single experiment that I did. Because I did everything on my own, without any help!!! I should be proud of myself, but I actually hate myself -- because I cannot sell it. Because market values "rock-stars", because market values what's trendy and what's in demand!
I was led astray by all this trash advice about "customizing your resume" and "highlighting transferrable skills". I have missed an opportunity of a lifetime!!! 5 or 6 years ago people, who attended coding bootcamps, could actually get a job as a programmer!!! Yes, not too long ago employers were actually scooping people, who completed coding bootcamps!!! That would have been my chance of getting the hell out of academia. I had a gut feeling that my Ph.D. was a complete waste of time, I suspected that I need to write-off Ph.D. as a loss and re-educate myself completely to have a chance! And I have missed an opportunity of a lifetime to learn how to code, to get into bootcamp, to get an entry-level coding job and move on from there. Now there are ongoing layoffs in tech and job market is flooded with junior coders. The gates are closed.
Instead, I wasted my time tinkering / customizing my resume and thinking how to sell "transferrable skills". Wrong, wrong, wrong! I do not think that anything like it will ever come again. When you can teach yourself, when you can get through the bootcamp and get into a field with good pay and career growth!!!
To all people out there: I cannot stress enough, watch out for bad advice!!! Look for a good advice -- its worth it's weight in gold!

Hey, hi, hello.
I’ve been posting on and off for a few years now and I’m sure some of you are sick of seeing me. Oh well, we’re in this sub for one reason and one reason only: to find a connection and possibly a happy ending.
I’ve been told I’m too picky and too open about myself; I don’t think Im either of these things. We all have different tastes and expectations from other people and that’s fine. And yes, I am very open about who I am, shouldn’t we all be? Would save us some disappointment.
I did try numerous dating sites and chatrooms but to no avail; those whove been in the same situation know what’s that like. I have a fair share of horror stories from dating apps and who knows, one day I could share these with you!!
Before I move onto the spiel about myself and how much of a catch I am please read below:
About you:
-living the UK/Europe/US (max of 6h time difference)
-a straight man
-a homebody, with the occasional want to go out and do things
-aged 29 – 48 (I will not reply if you’re not within the age bracket)
-speak English (for communication purposes duh)
-child free (and must want to remain this way)
-MONOGAMOUS
-NO PREFERENCE HEIGHT OR BODY WISE, I’m all about a nice face
-impeccable basic personal hygiene (not expecting you smelling like your local perfume store)
-no addictions (ie excessive alcohol use, smoking and any type of illegal drugs)
-respectful, loyal, funny, affectionate, caring, loving and patient (a lot of it needed with me).
-will not demand any personal content (if you know what I eamn)
-in full time employment (if we are long distance, how else are you going to fund your travels?)
But beyond all that I’m after a best friend. Someone who will have my back until the end. Someone who will accept me for who I am and wouldn’t want to change me (I can offer the same back). Someone who will enter my life and assume the role of my partner (eventually) and join me on this rather bizarre journey called life. Don’t give up on me and I wont give up on you.
I will not respond to any messages along the lines of ‘hru’. ‘hi’.
Once again, no budging on the age or location.
If your profile contains anything inappropriate, I won’t respond either.
I think I made myself more than clear.
Just one more thing, I promise!!!!
This is not to get any attention or sympathy or help; more of a prewarning. I have met a lot of amazing people on here who got their hopes up about me and once things didn’t seem to be as amazing as this image, they had of me they left.
I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder at the age of 12, as well as severe anxiety (no self-diagnosis here, by an actual professional). I take meds for it but some days are worse than the others. I’m also on the waiting list to get help, but like me you’re in the UK you’ll know what this is like (no issues with the NHS, they’re amazing; just overworked and understaffed). I can’t afford to go privately. At this moment in time,I am about 2 years away from seeing someone.
I suffer from fibromyalgia (if you don’t know what this is, just google it) in late 2019 after ruling everything out. I have days when I’m extremely exhausted and in a lot of pain. I still go to work and try to go on about my life as much as possible but please bear that in mind.
Ive been taking all sorts of meds too, including painkillers to control the pain.
Please don’t see me as someone hopeless or feel sorry for me. This is not the point of this confession.
My name is Anita and I’m a 29yo Eastern European woman, living in the UK just outside of Bristol. I’ve been here for the last 17 years and I consider myself England my home. I’m not considering moving back at any point in my life (however I’ll move elsewhere for the right reasons and right person). I will share my exact location once we’re acquainted a bit more.
I’m 6ft tall (yes I am this tall and I’m aware that it’s way too tall for a woman) and. weight approx 13st or 200lbs (my weight keeps fluctuating a lot and no, I’m not looking for any tips to lose weight). I dye my hair red but it’s more like ginger these days. I have green eyes (they’re useless as I wear glasses) and I wear a lot of black eyeliner lol. I guess you could say I’m kinda emo/goth?
An extreme introvert since I was a young one (definitely not shy, in fact I can get a bit volatile when it comes to standing up for myself). I don’t need to get out of my shell, so none of that please. I like my own company as well as my loved ones; and leaving the house only for work and groceries suits me well.
I’m a vegetarian (not a deal breaker if you’re not; your choice is to eat meat and mine isn’t. Respect it and you shall receive the same back). I think it’s time for everyone live and let others live too.
Tea, coffee and snack addict! (I love herbal tea with no sugar or milk; coffee wise I like a good cap or a caramel macchiato as a treat. Snack wise anything goes really. Fruit, crisps, cake and sweets!)
Bookworm (I haven’t read in a long time, I love books I promise. Just haven’t had much time lately. I have a stack of them which is growing. I need to finally find some time and immerse myself in one of many crime novels I have).
Apolitical (now, I read the news everyday but I do not support any of the parties. They don’t care about you or me, sorry to break this to you).
Animal lover (I have 4 rescued cats two boys and two girls aged between 10-11 who are my absolute life. In total, my mum and I have rescued about 60 cats in the last 10 years. We found them safe and loving homes but for some of them unfortunately it was too late).
No addictions here (I don’t drink or smoke; although I like my vapes a lot).
In my spare time (whatever I get of it) I like to go for walks, listen to music and podcasts, nap, watch tv, chill with my mum and cats, go shopping and grab a coffee with my ma, visit my brother in London, over eat, over think and read books.
I don’t really have any hobbies.
I don’t game religiously but I do enjoy sims 4 (someone told me that isn’t gaming although I’d say it’s a computer game so clues in the name but what do I know, right?) I don’t watch anime either, tried once and couldn’t get into it.
As you can tell, I’m just a relatively unremarkable human being, trying to find her place in this world. And I’m happy about that, being in the limelight is the last thing I know.
With that being said, if you managed to get through my ramblings and they somewhat resonated with you, shoot me a message.
Message me with your name, age and location and what caught your eye about my post. Don’t have to send me your picture right away; I won’t send mine until I’m comfortable enough. To show that you have read, end your message with ‘toodlepip’.
I will respond as soon as I can but please note that there might be delays in messaging back due to well… life being life I suppose.
And if you didn’t like what you read… well then scroll along, no need to let me know about this in the comments or to message me to call me names. It’s nice to be nice.
Thank you for reading this and looking forward to seeing some messages. If not, best of luck in your search!!!

I had my game working 2 days ago, then when I noticed I had a broken LOD (missing college of winterhold walkway, couldn't get to the college) I decided to rerun Dyndolod. Deleting the old output from Vortex completely broke my mods - it prompted me to delete 8000+ files which I accidentally clicked yes to. I also foolishly renamed my game tools folder before all this so I could pin it to quick access (i have multiple game tools folders in different drives, so renaming it made sense to me; but in hindsight, it was sure to mess up the pathways for vortex) and this may have been the real cause of my mods being uninstalled, though it also deleted a few mods strangely.
In any case, I reinstalled everything... took me over 8 hours since I have 500+ mods. This even allowed me to clean up and properly install some conflicts that I hadn't done before (mostly textures and meshes). I still have the most current SKSE (2.2.6), address library, bug fixes, and engine fixes (all for 1.6.1170) I double-checked each of them. And the newest version of ENB series (0.499). I have all the .dll files etc. installed in the directory and the skse plugins folders; I've attached screenshots here please feel free to check and let me know if anything is wrong.
Folders (both are attached): https://imgur.com/gallery/skyrim-folders-SGMZj8x
This is my mod list: https://pastebin.com/wkX1pKR5
This is my plugin order: https://pastebin.com/D4rs4dtr
This is the crash log: https://pastebin.com/t3V2LDPi
I've tried repairing the game through Steam, then rerunning all the plugins with LOOT warnings (ITMs, deleted references, and navmeshes) through SSEedit quick clean (apparently dyndolod doesn't like those errors and warnings). Yes, this includes, update, all dlcs, creation club DLC, and some other plugins.
The weird thing about the crash log is, that no mods/plugins are popping up in the probable call stack, or full-stack, or registers. The end of the stack is just a bunch of empty lines, and half of my plugins aren't even recognized.
The only thing I haven't tried is to reinstall the game and all the mods completely - I'm hoping there's an easy way to do this where I don't have to spend another 8 hours reinstalling every single mod and going through their FOMODs.
Any help is greatly appreciated!
EDIT: Reinstalled game, reinsatlled skse, reinstalled ENB, reinstalled mods. Same issue - well now instead of crashing it's just an infinite black screen (small circular loader in bottom right, no bethesda logo), i tried running it vanilla and it worked. it HAS to be a mod, maybe a few but I don't know how to troubleshoot which one it is. I might have to do the old 10-20 mods at a time.

Until I started subtitling the audiobook, I never considered reading the English version of LOTM. To my surprise, the quality of the English translation seems somewhat 'disrespectful' to the original book. With the money Qidian made from it, they should have hired at least one English literature graduate, if not three English literature professors, to proofread it.
Even though I'm not a native English speaker, I couldn't resist the urge to translate some parts in my own way. One thing led to another, and now I have a brand new translation of Chapter One.
Now, I have a question for my fellow fans of LTOM:

• Do you think this is a much better translation that you would like to wait and use it for subtitling LOTM's audiobooks? Or
• Do you feel the difference is so minimal that you'd prefer me to use the original translation so I can release subtitled audiobooks faster?

Here is another thread of mine discussing subtitling LOTM's audiobooks: https://www.reddit.com/LordofTheMysteries/comments/1csz252/dramatized_audiobooks_with_english_subtitles/, in case you're interested.

Ouch!
Ow…ouch!
Ow…my head is killing me!
The fantastic yet surreal dream surrounded by whispering and murmuring shattered away instantly, Zhou Mingrui who was sound asleep felt an abrupt throbbing pain deep inside his head, as if his head were ruthlessly clubbed. No, it felt more like something sharp penetrated his temple, followed by twisting and stirring.
Feeling disoriented, Zhou Mingrui wanted to turn around, clutch his head, or sit up. Yet, unable to move his hands or feet, he felt like he had lost all control over his body.
Looks like I’m still in some sort of dream, didn’t really wake up… Moments later, I might even think I'm fully awake, only to realize I'm still asleep… Familiar with such experiences, Zhou Mingrui tried desperately to concentrate, hoping to break free from the grip of darkness and disorientation.
However, trapped between wakefulness and sleep, the willpower was as elusive as smoke, difficult to control and concentrate. Despite his efforts, his thoughts kept wandering wildly, with all sorts of ideas coming and going.
How could I suddenly have a headache out of nowhere in the middle of the night?
Especially one which hurts so badly!
Could it be something like a cerebral hemorrhage?
Damn, am I going to die at such a young age?
Wake up! Wake UP!
Huh? Doesn't feel as painful now? Although it still feels like a blunt knife is cutting through my brains…
Sure thing is, I won’t be able to fall asleep any more. How am I supposed to show up for work tomorrow?
Why even bother going to work? This is a legitimate headache, perfect for time off! And no need to worry about the manager's grumblings.
Put it this way, it’s not so bad after all. Yea, free time off for me!
In between the waves of throbbing pain, Zhou Mingrui gradually accumulated a sense of elusive strength. Finally, with a determined effort, he straightened his back and opened his eyes, breaking free from the state of half-sleep and half-wake.
His vision was blurry at first, then tinged with a faint crimson hue. In his line of sight, Zhou Mingrui saw a sturdy wooden desk, upon which lay an open notebook. The papers were rough and yellowed. Where the title supposed to be, there was a sentence written in strange characters, with eye-catching thick, dark ink that seemed ready to drip.
To the left of the notebook, along the edge of the desk, was a stack of seven or eight neatly arranged books. On the wall to their right, were grayish-white pipes inset into the wall, with wall lamps at their ends.
The lamps had a classical Western style, about half the size of an adult's head. It featured a transparent inner layer made of glass and an exterior grid made of black metal.
Diagonally beneath the unlit lamp, was a black ink bottle shrouded in a pale red glow.
On its embossed surface was a blurry angel figure.
In front of the ink bottle and to the right of the notebook, lay a dark-colored pen with a fully circular body. Its tip shimmered with a faint glint while its cap rested right beside a brass revolver.
A gun?
A revolver?
Zhou Mingrui was completely taken aback. Everything in front of him felt absolutely alien, nothing looked like his own room.
Shocked and confused, he came to the realization that the desk, the notebook, the ink bottle, and the revolve were all coated with a layer of crimson “veil” from the light shining through the window.
Without realizing what he was doing, he raised his head, looking up bit by bit.
In the midair, beyond the heavy smooth darkness, hung a crimson full moon, glowing silently.
Hiss… Zhou Mingrui felt inexplicably horrified, as he stood up abruptly. However, before he could fully straighten his knees, a throbbing pain struck his head, draining all his strength. He fell, with his buttocks slammed heavily back onto the burly wood chair.
The pain didn’t stop him for a moment. Zhou Mingrui popped up, turned around in a fluster, and began examining his surroundings.
The room was not big, with a brown door on both of his sides. Against the wall in front of him, was a wooden bunk bed. Between the bed and the door to the left was a cabinet with two opposing doors and five drawers beneath them.
Next to the cabinet was a pipe of the same grayish-white, inset into the wall at the height of a person. What distinct it is that it connected to a strange looking mechanical device, which had a few of gears and bearings exposed here and there.
Items resembling coal stoves, sat in the right corner of the room near the desk, along with some kitchenware such as soup pots and iron pans.
Through the right door, was a dressing mirror with a couple of cracks, standing on a wooden base emboss with simple plain patterns.
While looking around, Zhou Mingrui noticed himself in the mirror, the present him.
Dark hair, brown eyes, wearing a linen shirt, slim, average-looking features and a rather deep outline…
Hiss… Zhou Mingrui grasped the situation immediately as many helpless and confused thoughts surfaced in his mind.
The revolver, the classical European style decorations, as well as the crimson moon that looked nothing like Earth's moon—all of them were screaming the exact same thing.
Who am I?
C-could I have transmigrated?
Zhou Mingrui's mouth slowly opened wider and wider, bit by bit.
He had grown up reading web novels, even fantasized about such scenes from time to time. However, the fantasy was incredibly difficult to accept now that he found himself in one.
Classic "Talk? Yes, yes! Action? No, no!", isn’t it?
In less than a minute, Zhou Mingrui had already started to sarcastically critique, attempting to make the best of whatever situation he found himself in.
But for the throbbing headache forcing him to think fast and sharply, he would for sure be convinced that he was dreaming.
Easy, easy, easy…taking deep breaths, Zhou Mingrui was trying really hard to make himself to calm down.
Just as his mind and body began to relax, pieces of memories started to flush, slowly flooding into his consciousness.
Klein Moretti.
A citizen of the City of Tingen, Awwa County, Loen Kingdom in the Northern Continent
Recently graduated from the Department of History at Khoy University…
His father was a sergeant of the Imperial Army, who had sacrificed his life during a colonial ware with the Southern Continent. His bereavement allowance made it possible for Klein to study at a private literature school, paving the way for his admission into university…
His mother was a devotee of the Evernight Goddess, who passed away the year Klein passed the entrance examinations to Khoy University…
He also had an elder brother and a younger sister, living together in a two-bedroom apartment.
Their family was far from wealthy, and its financial situation could even be described as somewhat strained.
Currently, the family was supported solely by the elder brother who worked as a clerk at an import and export company …
As a college graduate majored in history, Klein was proficient in the ancient language of Feysac, considering the origin of all languages in the Northern Continent, as well as the language of Hermes, which was commonly found in ancient mausoleums and often associated with sacrificial scenes and praying rituals.
Hermes?!
Zhou Mingrui's mind started to race as he reached out to rub his throbbing temples.
He cast his gaze toward the desk at the opened notebook, but to realize that the strange looking characters on the yellowed paper started to look somewhat familiar, then increasingly recognizable, and finally comprehensible.
It was a statement written in Hermes!
The thick, dark ink, seemingly ready to drip, read:
“Everyone will die including me myself!”
Hiss! Zhou Mingrui felt inexplicably horrified. He instinctively leaned back, attempting to escape away from the notebook, and the ominous statement on it.
Being so weak, he almost fell down, but managed to extend his hands in a fluster to grasp the edge of the desk.
He felt that air around him air started to roar, filled with faint whispering and murmurings. It felt just like listening to horror stories told by elders when he was young.
He shook his head, telling himself that all these were nothing but an illusion. Getting back onto his feet, he looked away from the notebook while still breathing heavily.
This time, his sight landed on the shimmering brass revolver, immediately realizing something unexplainable.
With Klein's social status, in what universe he would have the money or access to buy a revolver?!
Zhou Mingrui couldn't help but furrow his brow. Deeply puzzled, his eyes were caught by a reddish handprint at the edge of the desk, which was even darker than the moonlight, as well as thicker than the “veil”.
It was a bloody handprint!
A bloody handprint?
Zhou Mingrui instinctly flipped his right hand, that was pushing against the edge of the desk. Looking at it, he saw his palm and fingers covered in blood.
In the meaning time, the throbbing pain was getting a little bit better, yet didn’t go away, binding him like one tie after another.
Did I smash and injure my head? Zhou Mingrui guessed as he turned around, walking towards the cracked dressing mirror. After just a few of steps, a medium build figure of dark hair and brown eyes appeared clearly in front of him. The person had a distinct scholarly air to him.
Is this the present me?
Klein Moretti?
Zhou Mingrui was stunned. The poor lighting of the night obscured his vision, preventing him from clearly discerning something he had noticed. He continued forward until he was just a step away from colliding with the mirror.
Illumined by the crimson veil-like moonlight, he turned his head and began to examine the side of his forehead. A clear reflection appeared in the mirror. There, no his temple, was a grotesque wound with burn marks around the edges, blood staining the surrounding area. Grayish-white brain matter was slowly seeping out from within.

To start, let's talk about the Jacobs family, specifically Jeremy Jacobs.
He's one of the richest people in Western New York, former owner of the Boston Bruins, and current chairman of the University at Buffalo Council (wikipedia article).
On March 20, 1980, in a Jacobs family mansion on Nottingham Terrace, Jeremy’s fifteen-year-old nephew Seth (son of his brother Max) allegedly nearly beat to death Mary Kate O’Connell (sister of Buffalo TV newscaster Kevin). It was an unusual case:
​

From the beginning of the O’Connell case, which began at 7:30 on the morning of March 20, 1980, when Ms. O’Connell called for help, her assault was handled differently from the thousands of other beatings each year in the city. Eight hours elapsed after Ms. O’Connell’s injuries were discovered before the Buffalo Police Department was allowed inside the Jacobs home to investigate and secure any evidence. . . . Seth Jacobs, now 25, an actor and a graduate of Yale University, told Ms. O’Connell’s attorneys during his deposition that he has trouble believing that people consider him a suspect in the beating. When his father first told him that police thought he had beat Ms. O’Connell, he said: “I was understandably stunned, very dismayed, and I wondered what to do.” He said he let his father’s attorneys handle it. And he told his mother, “I couldn’t believe that people actually believed that I could do such a thing.” (source)

​
The Jacobs clan got lawyered up and counter-sued O’Connell. The excellent Jacobs family lawyers got him off, leading to the judgment that she was nearly beaten to death inside the Jacobs home by a person or persons unknown. So, racketeering without a racketeer, bludgeoning without a bludgeoner. See “O’Connell v. Jacobs” (1992). The Jacobs family then proceeded to sue Ms. O’Connell into bankruptcy.

But what happened to Seth Jacobs?

Well, we all know the Seth Jacobs that teaches history here. At first I thought that this just happened to be an unfortunate coincidence of two people having the same name. (Here he is!) However, I was horrified as I noticed more and more things line up.
Here's an article from 2020 about Seth Jacobs. Let's look at everything that matches.
Date of Birth

It was 1992 and the then-actor had $1.25 in his pocket, the exact price of the Documentary History of the United States. He read it on his commute to the famed Steppenwolf Theatre, where he was appearing in Twelfth Night. “I was 28 and I had never taken a college-level history class,”.

This would put his year of birth at around 1965, depending on when his birthday is and what month this happened. The Seth Jacobs who allegedly beat the teenage girl was 15 in 1980, putting his birthday around 1965 as well. But I see how this may also be an unfortunate coincidence. Let's continue.
​
Actor + Son of Actor

I grew up in New York City. My father was an actor and I wanted to be an actor. I felt at the time I had talent.

Recall from earlier "Seth Jacobs, now 25, an actor and a graduate of Yale University". This aligns with the timeline of our Seth Jacobs being 28 at the time. Additionally, alleged assaulter Seth Jacob's father, Max Jacobs, was an actor as well! Another interesting coincidence!
​
Education

I went to Yale as an undergraduate and majored in philosophy and psychology, but that was just because my parents told me they weren’t going to pay for a Yale education if I majored in theater.

Our Seth Jacobs indeed went to Yale and got their undergrad degree. And wouldn't you know it, alleged assaulter Seth Jacobs was a Yale graduate as well! Recall from earlier: "Seth Jacobs, now 25, an actor and a graduate of Yale University." These coincidences are starting to stack up...
Middle Name
This dissertation asserts that our Seth Jacob's middle name is Stephen. According to official court documents:

"Max William Jacobs as custodian for Seth Steven Jacobs under the New York Uniform Gifts to Minors Act, 703 Main St., at Tupper, Buffalo, N.Y."

Our two Seth's share the same middle name!
Maybe: Physical Appearance
This one is more of a maybe, but take a look at Max Jacobs and then compare him to our Seth Jacobs.
​
Picture from Buffalo News
​
A shitty pic but it gets the point across

What now?

I have some family members in Buffalo who've told me about Jeremy Jacobs and his shadiness, but I did not expect our Seth Jacobs to be involved in it. I'm like 99% certain that these are the same people, and while it was "alleged" that he nearly beat a teenage girl to death, the circumstances surrounding it are incredibly suspicious.

I have recently received some alarming and sensitive major family news affecting my entire family about topics that I'm not sure I can even discuss here. Tried Reddit CrisisLine, but nobody answered after 45 minutes. I'm not in any way considering self harm.
It has thrown my already existing depression into a spiraling and crippling depression that is really making me to want to just give up. Again I stress, not to the point I'd take action. But I just don't really care about life anymore. I don't have any fight left in me. On top of my current major medical issues that already have had me really weighed down and struggling, my sleep is down, serious weight loss in a short period of time (25% loss) I can count one time on both hands the items I've eaten this past week. Not taking meds. Daily migraines. Acute pain throughout body for decades. Doc says maybe Fibromyalgia to add to my existing health stack. Shoulders and neck are rock hard, nightly recurrent nightmares of being pulled under by water rapids, and I can't swim. I'm a recovering Norco and Soma addict. I'm working a program, just not NA. Clean since 09. In irony, one of my many long term medical issues requires me to remain on the same medications I was addicted to. I've become a recluse, only ever leaving home to get groceries (rare now) or to go to medical appointments. Like I know that I need help, I just don't have anything left in me to fight. Tired of health. Tired of family. Tired of life. I just exist day to day.
I had a really horrendous encounter as a youth in the psychiatric system and meds for gay conversion 'therapy', so I have zero interest there.
I'm just adrift and looking for input on sensitive topics. Thanks in advance for any recommendations and comments.

This is obviously a joke. Not costed because, again, a joke. Follow-up to a post I made about a year ago, now with all civs!
Armenians: Plowshares to Swords - Villagers upgraded to Warrior Priests; Mule Carts upgraded to Light Cavalry
Aztecs: Human Sacrifice - All Villagers deleted. For every 20 Vills deleted this way, Infantry +1 attack and Monks +1/+1 armor
Bengalis: Wheel in the Sky Keeps on Turning - Villagers spawn 35 food, then are deleted. Villagers now take up -0.02 population space/minute as the game goes on
Berbers: Zoomers - Villagers move an additional +25% faster and have a Shrivamsha-style shield
Bohemians: Hussite Re-reforms - Villagers upgraded to Monks, Spear line, or Hussite Wagons, at random
Britons: Crimes Against Livestock - Female Villagers upgraded to 2 Sheep
Bulgarians: I'm Not Dead Yet - Dead Villagers spawn a MAA but with relevant upgrades
Burgundians: already have this, 11
Burmese: One With Everything - Villagers get +3 attack, +2/+2 armor, +4 dmg against Archers; TC and eco techs cost -50%. Relics generate gold regardless of whether or not they're garrisoned in your Monasteries
Byzantines: Totally Stable Monarchy - For the rest of the game, a King spawns, randomly dies, then respawns 30s later. As long as the King is alive, Villagers get +10HP and work +10% faster; these stats are reversed if the King is dead
Celts: Knowledge of the Terrain - Villagers more than 10 tiles away from a TC now have Tree sprites, making them harder to raid
Chinese: Famine Contingency - All Villager stats doubled. Half of your Villagers vanish mysteriously...
Cumans: The Real 2TC Boom - Villagers upgraded to 2 Town Centers
Dravidians: What to Do with All This Wood? - Villagers now cost wood instead of food. Also, they get Wootz Steel, because why not
Ethiopians: Royalest Heirs - Dead Villagers spawn a Shotel Warrior (but not an Elite one)
Franks: Peasant Uprising - Villagers upgraded to Joan the Maid; Champions upgraded to La Hire
Georgians: The Power of Christ Compels You - Fortified Church work radius extended to 16 tiles (from 8) and effects of multiple Churches stack
Goths: HOUSEkarls - Houses still provide +5 population, but can train Huskarls with the speed of a Barracks (requires Anarchy)
Gurjaras: Is This Vegan? - Farmers can garrison in Mills and generate food
Hindustanis: Merchant Class - Villagers upgraded to Caravanserai; each Caravanserai spawns a Trade Cart
Huns: Steppe-siblings - Female Villagers upgraded to CA, Male Villagers upgraded to Steppe Lancers
Incas: Yeety Bois - Villagers upgraded to Slingers; Slingers benefit from Loom and Infantry Blacksmith upgrades
Italians: 15th Century 2nd Amendment - Villagers are now gunpowder units, hence receive the discount. They also fight with guns (5 range, 10 dmg, 50% accuracy)
Japanese: Gotta Get off This Island - Villagers and Fishing Ships can toggle roles
Khmer: Doors and Tunnels - Villagers can garrison in any building; all buildings within shared LOS share a garrison pool. That is, your Villagers can basically teleport
Koreans: OG Tower Civ - Villagers upgraded to Towers
Lithuanians: Iconodules - Villagers upgraded to Relics
Magyars: Sheep in Wolf's Clothing - Enemy units with 60HP or less gain Wolf armor class
Malay: Gymocrassy - Villagers upgraded to Elite Karambit Warriors
Malians: With the Help of my PhD Sisters - Villagers deleted. Each University spawns 10 Elite Gbetos
Mayans: Avatar, 2009 - Each Villager spawns 5 Jaguars and 1 Javelina; Gaia units patrol the map and don't attack your units/buildings
Mongols: Subotai will be here in 40 minutes - Villagers upgraded to Subotai, after a 40 minute timer
Persians: Get the Message?! - Villagers get +5 attack. Enemy units that witness units killed by your Villagers get -3 attack for 30s
Poles: More like Swoles, Amirite - Villager health and HP regen rate tripled
Portuguese: Industrial Revolution - Villagers upgraded to Feitorias
Romans: Lead is Tasty - Villagers get +20 HP and move 10% faster, but lose 1HP from max per minute
Saracens: An Abandoned House? - You can garrison Villagers in Houses, but Elite Mamelukes pop out. Unfortunately, you can no longer train new Villagers
Sicilians: Mafia - Villagers upgraded to Condotierri
Slavs: Vodka - Dead Villagers spawn Proles (Villagers with 50 HP, 10/10 armor, but horrendous pathing)
Spanish: Supremacy2 - Same effect, but Villagers gain military stances
Tatars: Timurid Memecraft - Villagers upgraded to Flaming Camels
Teutons: Oktoberfest - Villagers get +100/+100 armor. UI becomes blurred
Turks: Eco is for Cowards - Villagers upgraded to 50 Gold
Vietnamese: Fortunate Son - Villagers upgraded to Imperial Skirmishers. Enemy buildings (not units) visible on minimap
Vikings: Ways of the Old Gods - Villagers cannot be converted, get +15 dmg vs Monks, regenerate HP, and get +5HP for every building they raze or unit they kill

So I'm absolutely stumped here. The water company had to come replace our meter because it was leaking. Once they replaced it and turned the water back (it was off for roughly 15 hours) on I noticed my upstairs and downstairs bathroom have no cold water in the sinks. Every other cold water line in the house works fine. Including the toilets and the showers in both bathrooms. Hot water comes out at full pressure from both sinks.
Both bathrooms are stacked and the same layout. I assume the sinks are sharing a cold supply but I had also assumed the showers and toilets were also.
I've checked the drywall with a moisture tester and it all checks fine so I don't believe anything is leaking.
I honestly am not even sure where to start with what could be the cause of this. Absolutely stumped.
I don't have pictures because I haven't opened up any walls yet to check plumbing.

TL;DR: my wife has no personality anymore and actively does things to make herself look unattractive.
Well, everything started off wonderful. My wife was this awesome alternative like goth kind of chubby girl with a personality that I easily connected with.
Fast forward six years or so and now my wife does nothing to dress up, wears clothes which are incredibly unflattering in anyway, started taking Ozempic, lost all muscle mass but maintained all the fat, and now has a mullet haircut (she started with extremely unattractive bangs and has cut them to the point where the bang line is to her ears).
We used to talk for hours about anything but now my wife actively does things to ruin plans or irritate me. We are stuck in the Incompetence - Nagging Loop where she refuses to participate in almost anything, yet, when things have to get done like chores I have to give her clear directions but then she gets annoyed that I am nagging her.
I used to bring home flowers whenever I would go out, or small little gestures yet I never got that even remotely reciprocated. My wife has always been a Negative Nancy yet now it is worse to the point where she just complains for the sake of complaining. My wife constantly makes negative jokes about things that are actively stressful (e.g. if the power goes out she will joke that we are going to freeze to death or starve to death); I commonly reinforce the positive and ignore the negatives but sometimes I just have to draw a boundary when she repeatedly makes bad jokes that are offensive yet she gets upset.
We moved to Colorado about two years ago and I know she hates it but she hates everything. My wife has no career goals, is no longer working towards any goals, and she finds any sort of challenge overwhelming to the point she quits.
I work long days in a public facing job where I deal with a lot of trauma and am exposed to a lot of things most people are not. I find myself gravitating more towards being at work as opposed to wanting to come home just to have some positivity in my life.
She used to be the love of my life but now I find almost no redeeming qualities. We don’t have the ability to have children and we both make rather large incomes.
I have tried soft approaches, positivity reinforcing approaches, redirection of negative thoughts, and even basic counseling techniques. I feel like to get my wife to be positive for a moment it is a Hostage Negotiation.
Is my marriage salvageable?

Title, but I’ve been trying wood elves since I bought the game, and while I’m able to do well (enough, I’m no TW god, that’s for certain) with other races, to include high elves, grand Cathay, chaos dwarfs, dwarfs, empire, and WOC, I’ve attempted like six different campaigns as welves, but I’m unable to win once the AI starts spooling up their 20 stack armies. I’ve watched several different videos on welves, I’m playing on hard/hard but no difficulty modifiers, but I can’t seem to win any fight that’s remotely challenging.
Usually, I’ll use a short line of wardancers/bladesingers as frontline with deep wood/Waywatchers skirmishing, hawkriders killing backlines, and cavalry/Orion just bowling anything they can run into over, but my battle lines always seem to crumple before I can inflict major harm, or my own back line is attacked after I’m committed to a fight. I just need some tips or something, I really like welves and their whole fantasy, but I can’t play them to save my life.