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/r/Dance: The Art of Movement of the Body

2008.04.08 18:07 /r/Dance: The Art of Movement of the Body

We support any protests against Reddit being an ass about API pricing. While we're thinking what to do, consider heading over to lemmy.ml to create new communities not limited by corporate greed.

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2008.01.25 18:33 Magic

A subreddit for sharing and discussing magic, without any exposure. Any area of magic, be it close up, parlor, stage, busking, mentalism, coins or cards, are welcome.

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2015.02.18 18:13 Pokémon Shuffle: every day I'm Shufflin'!

Feel free to discuss anything related to Pokémon Shuffle. We are aiming to become the number one social network for up-to-date information about this fantastic Pokémon game.

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2024.05.07 16:29 cartoon_Dinosaur Second Contact Chapter 1

Thank you to Space paladin for the canvas and u/Acceptable_Egg5560 for proofreading and critique
Content warning; flattery
[Next]
Memory transcript: Maarchal , MESEA Astronomers. Date: [Standard Farsul calendar ] July 13th, 3665
EEECH EEECH EEECH
I turn over on my side, haphazardly reaching for the alarm. My paw crashes into it, knocking it on the ground.
CRASH
“Sigh.” I sit up and rub my eyes open, through my bedroom window I can see the sun just barely creeping over the horizon. Painting the winter sky in a cacophony of reds and purples. It was beautiful, any other day I would appreciate it. But I was too fatigued to enjoy the sight.
The fucking overtime is killing me. Still better than being in this hellhole.
I turn over and dangle my legs over the side of my bed. Looking at the object of my frustration, there vibrating on the ground was my alarm clock, I reached down and picked it up.
Thoo thoo thoo
Great, just great, the fucking whistle was dented. I’m going to have to repair it today or risk waking up late tomorrow. Just my FUCKING LUCK.
“Sigh.” Breath in, breath out, push it down. This anger is pointless, don't feel it.
I get up and head downstairs, alarm in hand. I make my way to the kitchen and take out some plant/meal worm protein kibble. It tastes like shit, but it's cheap and fast to eat. Downing it with a lukewarm glass of sink water I make my way out into my front yard and get into my auto, putting my clock on the passenger seat. I start the hydrocarbon engine and back out of my driveway. The sun was much higher in the sky now, parting the reds and purples for yellow and a blue sky.
I turn and make my way toward main street. What little traffic we had would be dead at this time of day. I turn onto a dirt road and up to the station, a small data processing nodule.
MASEA Sonar and LIDAR telescope survey.
I park and exit my auto, only to turn back and put my alarm in a more hidden place. Right near the pedals. Out of sight of the windows and thus away from any thieves.
Can never be too careful.
I make my way inside. “Hey Maarchal , getting in early again?” Germi asked me.
I nod. ”Hi Germi, can we just please skip the soliloquies today? I had a rough morning.”
“It's still morning, and you never want to talk. I don't think it's healthy but whatever, it's not my Curnts I'm leaving to poachers.”
He turns and punches in my ID code and buzzes me in, simultaneously clocking me in as well. I look down and shuffle my way in. But before I make it all the way in he stops me.
“Oh by the way, they hired a new guy. Said he’d be here around or after lunch. Might want to know so you can make an impression.”
I close my eyes and a growl begins to boil in my throat, before I force it down and turn to the chatty guard.
“I’ll be happier if you mind your own fucking business and do your job. I don't need you to be playing matchmaker again.” He took on a despondent look and shifted in his seat.
“I’m not trying to play matchmaker, I’m playing playdate. I think you need to get a friend, not a boyfriend necessarily. Although I’d be happy if you did. I just don't think you should be married to your job, it's not healthy!!!”
Before I realized it, anger perforated my insides. I growled deeply and launched myself at the wired fence between us. The chubby guard recoiled in his post. “I don't want you trying to interfere with my life!!! I am HAPPY!!! I don't need you or anyone else judging me for how I live!!!”
I turned away and stormed off to my office. Lousy son of a whore, he probably dropped out of high-school. What does he know of happiness? I am at the top of my field and it is not easy like his job.
I calm myself down and walk calmly to my office. There were other farsul in the hallway chatting.

Lousy time wasters, get to your office and analyze your data!!! I screamed internally. Knowing what little use it was trying to get them to be productive. As proven when I first started out here and nearly turned my voice ragged from the useless endeavor.

I pull up my chair and begin typing. The Light Gathering High orbit Telescope Apparatus or better now as the LiGHTA. Was sending out flashes in the direction of the ice giant Curbosa, the second largest planet in the system. Rich with moons, this had been its project for a number of years. My job was to analyze the data and make a useful model with it to better understand orbital mechanics.
I type in the command to print its data.
Using the white paper with the black spots that represented the light that made its way back to the telescope I began my work. The largest black spot was Curbosa, made up of around five hundred pixels. While the largest moon was around 10. Taking the next printed paper I compared them. Figuring out how each spot moved in comparison to the others.
“Hmm, that's… odd.” One Black spot, barely noticeable, was practically standing still compared to the rest. Even compared to Curbosa as the planet moved. As though it was not orbiting anything at all.
I grabbed the next paper, and the spot was gone. Weird, must have been something bright outside the solar system. A new variable star perhaps? I’ll have to send a request to other observatories to monitor that stretch of sky.
But for now I resumed my work. Calculating, measuring, drawing diagrams. It was all monotonous and time consuming work, but it had to be done by hand. By the time I was finished processing the five second interval of data collection it was almost lunch.
I went to grab my bag of kibble rations I keep in my office, before realizing I could use this time to have my alarm whistle repaired and get takeout as well.
On my way out of the office Germi was giving me a look of abject pity. Fuck that, I’d rather have the avoidance or indifference of everyone else rather then that useless emotion.
I get in my auto and start the engine. I look at the passenger seat and notice my clock is missing, I quickly check around me to no avail. I put my head on the wheel and groan.
“Well, I already started the engine. Might as well get some actual food.” I press down on what I thought would be the brake pedal. Only to feel a surge of pain on my foot. I recoil and look down at the pedals. My clock was there, with a bit of blue on its side.
Oh, that's right… I left it there so it wouldn't be stolen. I lift my foot up and look at the damage, a decently sized cut but nothing worth addressing.
I reach down and grab the offending clock and toss it back into the passenger seat and make my way out of the parking lot. All the while my foot stings from the cut.

**\*
Dingaling
I make my way into the old clock shop, the shelves are filled with old and broken clocks and other knickknacks. There's a distinct taste of dust and mildew perforating the old building. Making my way through the maze of dilapidated appliances I find the front desk. A rather young farsul is standing behind it, screwing into the back of an old rust covered whistle alarm clock. I put my clock on the desk and waited for him to respond.
He glances up at me and then back to the object of his attention. Barely giving me any mind. “Excuse me.” I say to get his attention, to no avail. “EXCUSE ME!!!” I yell and slam my hand onto the desk.
“Just a sec, let me finish thiiiisssss and done.” He then takes the back off the old rusted clock and sets it to the side.
“Alrighty, what could I do for you this day Ma'am?”
I pointed to my clock and began. ”The whistle on my clock got dented, I need you to replace or fix it.” He walked over and grabbed my clock, Inspecting all of it in depth except the whistle. Taking on a look of annoyance at the piece of metal and plastic. Shaking his head with his ears held back, he placed it back on the counter.
“I’m afraid I can't repair this, it's mass produced designed to fail shit made of sheet aluminum. Here, I can get you an old brass clock that you could hit with a hammer and the hammer would break before a dent forms.” He was wagging his tail and bent down to presumably grab a said clock.
“I don't want a new clock, I just want you to fix mine. Is there any way you can?” I inquired, becoming more and more annoyed with this guy. He stood up and placed a brass clock on the counter about the same size as mine.
He put his hand behind his head and scratched at his ears. “Well yeah, but it'd probably cost more than just to buy a new one. That's what these are designed to do, break easily but be a pain to repair. I’d have to saw off the whistle and weld a new one on. It would probably cost … fifty eight dollars.”
I was appalled, that was nearly three times how much I paid for it. He then gestures to the brass clock. “But this costs around thirty two dollars, but will probably outlive you.”
Breathing deeply, I reached in my wallet and pulled out the money for the new (old) clock. “Thank you for your business!!!” He said as I turned to leave, I didn't so much as turn to acknowledge him. As I left the store I saw him toss my old clock into a scrap metal bin.

**\*

“Hello, what would you like to order?” The waiter asked, looking over the menu I contemplated my answer.
“I’d like the mersh meat pie, with a side of fried fleat fruit to go.”
He nodded and went to tell the chef. The restaurant was rather busy, I managed to see some of my colleagues getting lunch together and having a rowdy conversation in the back. With what looked like a centerpiece of a roasted mersh carcass in the center. Haphazardly consumed and cut up between them.

DINGALING

Looking over to my side I saw someone enter the establishment. He looked around at the crowded venue, seeing almost every seat taken. He then looked over at me. “Excuse me ma'am, might I trouble you to share this table?” I motioned my hand to the empty seat across from me and he took it. He was a rather tall Farsul, with a deep gray coat interrupted by patches of white on his front and sides of his muzzle. He was wearing a deep green cloak and sported leather shoes.
He clearly wasn't a local if he was cold enough for clothing. I sat in silence across from him. He folded his hands together and looked this way and that before settling on me. “So, what's your name?”
“Maarchal ”
“That's a pretty name, what do you do here?”
“I work at the observatory.”
He started to relax his posture. Leaning into his seat “really? That's cool, what do you do there?”
I gave him a distracted look, “that's classified.”
His features softened. “Not much for conversation, yeah?”
I shake my head “conversations are a waste of time. I have more important things to do.”
He smirks and leans back “Right, like sitting in silence waiting for comfort food. C’mon humor me!”
I roll my eyes “fine, tell you what if you can make me laugh i’ll “humor” you.”
He sits up with a stupidly cute smile and wagging tail. “Alright, so there are six pups at a party, and a bag with six freenkern fruit, each one is given one, but the bag still has a freenkern in it. How can that be?”
“Sigh I don't know, how can it be?”
His smile gets bigger somehow. “You just give the bag to the last pup!”
…
…
“Snicker That is ah, that is really dummmhh, heh.”
“AH HA, You laughed!!!” He said while pointing a digit at me and with a big stupid grin on his face.
“No , I chuckled at best, that's not a laugh!”
He wagged his finger at me. “Yes it is, now you have to talk with me!”
I reluctantly threw my paws in the air, ”fine, fine, I’ll try to engage. Just for the wait.”
He pumped his hand and went right at it. “So you're an astronomer, what made you want to be one?”
I turned to give him my full attention, “well, my family has always been big on scholarly type vocations. Both my parents are archeologists, my older brother is a chemist and my younger sister is apprenticeshipping with my parents. I chose the stars as my field of study, as I always loved space stories as a pup.”
He gave me the side eye, “so it's as simple as barky spaceships was your favorite show?”
A smirk threatened to overtake my features. “No, no, I liked to watch documentaries of the stars and read space operas as a teen. Still do, or er did.” I slightly reached into myself from the memories of shame.
He seemed to notice my regret at admitting the bit of info about operas, as he seemed to try to steer me away from the topic. “ What? Documentaries? Those aren't stories!!!”
“Uh, yeah they are! Isn't the history of how the universe formed not the most epic story of all? Every speck of light has a story to tell, every asteroid has secrets to uncover!!!” My voice was beginning to raise, so I began to rain in my outburst.
“Wow, you really like space that much? Such passion is inspiring!!! And a little cute. “ He rested his head on his hand and looked at me with a type of reverence and admiration that made me feel warm inside.
I smiled back, “Yeah, there's just… so much to uncover…” I reached into myself, the shame had been growing with this attention and expelling of my passion in the most unprofessional manner.
He seemed to recognize my turmoil as his face began to match my dour mood. “Uh, hehe, um. Oh those fellows seem to be having a good time. You know them?”
I put my head in my hands, as he just pointed to my “colleagues”. Who had begun to pop off bones of the mersh carcass and cracked them open to suck the marrow out. “Uhh unfortunately, they work with me at the observatory. Bunch of rowdy pups in adult pelts.”
He looked over and seemed confused by my abject contempt for the manner they conducted themselves in.”... Is there a reason you take offense at their mirth?”
“We’re scientists, we should conduct ourselves as absolutely serious as possible. Instead they treat their job as a game.” I flippantly threw my hand in their direction.
He looked at me with confusion. “I don't think they treat it like a game… I just think they like having fun, so what if they don't act all prim and proper a hundred percent of the time?”
I rub my muzzle, “it's just, we do serious work, they need to be serious as well.”
He smiled at me “yeah, whatever you say”.
I rub my arms, he continues to look at me with mirth. His default joy was infectious, as I struggled to keep my tail still.
“Here you go ma’am, that'll be twelve dollars.” The waiter said as he handed me my takeout. I reached into my wallet but found I was short around six dollars.
I shouldn't have let that clock smith up sale me.
“I’m so sorry, I seem to be short. Let me go to my auto to see if I have enough for the meal.
I got out of the building but before I could open my auto the Farsul I was speaking to rushed out with my takeout. “Uh, here, I paid for you.”
I smiled as I took the meal, ”really? All for a gal you spoke with for all of ten minutes?”
He rubs the back of his head and looks at the ground “heh heh yeah, just wanted to repay you for the pleasure of your company.”
I smirk and enter my auto, “well I hope you enjoyed it, as I doubt we’ll meet again soon.” I start the engine and wave goodbye to the Farsul as I leave the parking lot. Who returned the favor.

**\*

I exit my auto and make my way to the entrance , Germi seemed all too happy to see me again. “Well someone seems to have had a pleasant launch break.” I don't give him the time of day as I wait for him to buzz me in.
I make my way to my office and go about devouring my food. The meat pie was a delectable pastry filled with rich meat and the fried fleat fruit skin was crispy but the fatty flesh inside was all hot and gooey, with a pleasant texture and a hint of a tangy flavor. Much better than my kibble. I ate so fast that it was all gone in a matter of minutes. I relaxed into my seat as the pleasant feeling of a full stomach washes over me.
“You really needed that huh?”
I opened my eyes and turned to my open doorway, the Farsul from the restaurant was standing in it. With his green cloak taken off and draped over his right shoulder.
Embarrassment threatened to swallow me whole. “Wh- what are you doing here?”

He shrugs “I'm the new guy. Wanted to get lunch before I came into work.”
I put my head in my hands, unable to reconcile who I acted so unprofessional with.” I-I only humored you because I thought you were just passing through… I have a reputation here!!!”
He smiles and leans on the side of the door frame. “Yeah, I figured after the fellows at the bar mentioned how I survived without getting burned by the “Vermscoorn”. That's you right?”
I nodded. “ I um , I have an anger problem. “
“Coulda fooled me. Anyways, I look forward to working with you. Oh by the way, names Ponthyt.”
He exits my office door frame and I turn and sink my head onto my desk. Annoyed by my tail wagging, displaying a joy that I wished wasn't there.
[Next]

submitted by cartoon_Dinosaur to NatureofPredators [link] [comments]

2024.05.07 14:34 nahmanhajdklfjdsflkj crash

---- Minecraft Crash Report ----
// Quite honestly, I wouldn't worry myself about that.

Time: 2024-05-07 14:32:45
Description: Initializing game

java.lang.ExceptionInInitializerError

at net.minecraft.class\_315.(class\_315.java:97) at net.minecraft.class\_310.(class\_310.java:489) at net.minecraft.client.main.Main.main([Main.java:223](https://Main.java:223)) at net.fabricmc.loader.impl.game.minecraft.MinecraftGameProvider.launch([MinecraftGameProvider.java:470](https://MinecraftGameProvider.java:470)) at net.fabricmc.loader.impl.launch.knot.Knot.launch([Knot.java:74](https://Knot.java:74)) at net.fabricmc.loader.impl.launch.knot.KnotClient.main([KnotClient.java:23](https://KnotClient.java:23))

Caused by: java.lang.RuntimeException: Mixin transformation of net.minecraft.class_339 failed

at net.fabricmc.loader.impl.launch.knot.KnotClassDelegate.getPostMixinClassByteArray([KnotClassDelegate.java:427](https://KnotClassDelegate.java:427)) at net.fabricmc.loader.impl.launch.knot.KnotClassDelegate.tryLoadClass([KnotClassDelegate.java:323](https://KnotClassDelegate.java:323)) at net.fabricmc.loader.impl.launch.knot.KnotClassDelegate.loadClass([KnotClassDelegate.java:218](https://KnotClassDelegate.java:218)) at net.fabricmc.loader.impl.launch.knot.KnotClassLoader.loadClass([KnotClassLoader.java:119](https://KnotClassLoader.java:119)) at java.base/java.lang.ClassLoader.loadClass([ClassLoader.java:525](https://ClassLoader.java:525)) at net.minecraft.class\_7172.(class\_7172.java:35) ... 6 more

Caused by: org.spongepowered.asm.mixin.transformer.throwables.MixinTransformerError: An unexpected critical error was encountered

at org.spongepowered.asm.mixin.transformer.MixinProcessor.applyMixins([MixinProcessor.java:392](https://MixinProcessor.java:392)) at org.spongepowered.asm.mixin.transformer.MixinTransformer.transformClass([MixinTransformer.java:234](https://MixinTransformer.java:234)) at org.spongepowered.asm.mixin.transformer.MixinTransformer.transformClassBytes([MixinTransformer.java:202](https://MixinTransformer.java:202)) at io.gitlab.jfronny.libjf.unsafe.asm.AsmTransformer.transformClassBytes([AsmTransformer.java:75](https://AsmTransformer.java:75)) at net.fabricmc.loader.impl.launch.knot.KnotClassDelegate.getPostMixinClassByteArray([KnotClassDelegate.java:422](https://KnotClassDelegate.java:422)) ... 11 more

Caused by: org.spongepowered.asm.mixin.throwables.MixinApplyError: Mixin [smoothswapping-common.mixins.json:ClickableWidgetAccessor from mod smoothswapping] from phase [DEFAULT] in config [smoothswapping-common.mixins.json] FAILED during APPLY

at org.spongepowered.asm.mixin.transformer.MixinProcessor.handleMixinError([MixinProcessor.java:638](https://MixinProcessor.java:638)) at org.spongepowered.asm.mixin.transformer.MixinProcessor.handleMixinApplyError([MixinProcessor.java:589](https://MixinProcessor.java:589)) at org.spongepowered.asm.mixin.transformer.MixinProcessor.applyMixins([MixinProcessor.java:379](https://MixinProcessor.java:379)) ... 15 more

Caused by: org.spongepowered.asm.mixin.gen.throwables.InvalidAccessorException: No candidates were found matching field_41097:J in net/minecraft/class_339 for smoothswapping-common.mixins.json:ClickableWidgetAccessor from mod smoothswapping->@Accessor[FIELD_SETTER]::setLastHoveredTime(J)V [INJECT Applicator Phase -> smoothswapping-common.mixins.json:ClickableWidgetAccessor from mod smoothswapping -> Apply Accessors -> -> Locate -> smoothswapping-common.mixins.json:ClickableWidgetAccessor from mod smoothswapping->@Accessor[FIELD_SETTER]::setLastHoveredTime(J)V]

at org.spongepowered.asm.mixin.gen.AccessorInfo.findTarget([AccessorInfo.java:519](https://AccessorInfo.java:519)) at org.spongepowered.asm.mixin.gen.AccessorInfo.findTargetField([AccessorInfo.java:502](https://AccessorInfo.java:502)) at org.spongepowered.asm.mixin.gen.AccessorInfo.locate([AccessorInfo.java:476](https://AccessorInfo.java:476)) at org.spongepowered.asm.mixin.transformer.MixinTargetContext.generateAccessors([MixinTargetContext.java:1411](https://MixinTargetContext.java:1411)) at org.spongepowered.asm.mixin.transformer.MixinApplicatorStandard.applyAccessors([MixinApplicatorStandard.java:1071](https://MixinApplicatorStandard.java:1071)) at org.spongepowered.asm.mixin.transformer.MixinApplicatorStandard.applyMixin([MixinApplicatorStandard.java:400](https://MixinApplicatorStandard.java:400)) at org.spongepowered.asm.mixin.transformer.MixinApplicatorStandard.apply([MixinApplicatorStandard.java:327](https://MixinApplicatorStandard.java:327)) at org.spongepowered.asm.mixin.transformer.TargetClassContext.apply([TargetClassContext.java:422](https://TargetClassContext.java:422)) at org.spongepowered.asm.mixin.transformer.TargetClassContext.applyMixins([TargetClassContext.java:403](https://TargetClassContext.java:403)) at org.spongepowered.asm.mixin.transformer.MixinProcessor.applyMixins([MixinProcessor.java:363](https://MixinProcessor.java:363)) ... 15 more

A detailed walkthrough of the error, its code path and all known details is as follows:
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

-- Head --
Thread: Render thread
Stacktrace:

at net.minecraft.class\_315.(class\_315.java:97) at net.minecraft.class\_310.(class\_310.java:489)

-- Initialization --
Details:

Modules:

Stacktrace:

at net.minecraft.client.main.Main.main([Main.java:223](https://Main.java:223)) at net.fabricmc.loader.impl.game.minecraft.MinecraftGameProvider.launch([MinecraftGameProvider.java:470](https://MinecraftGameProvider.java:470)) at net.fabricmc.loader.impl.launch.knot.Knot.launch([Knot.java:74](https://Knot.java:74)) at net.fabricmc.loader.impl.launch.knot.KnotClient.main([KnotClient.java:23](https://KnotClient.java:23))

-- System Details --
Details:

Minecraft Version: 1.20.4 Minecraft Version ID: 1.20.4 Operating System: Mac OS X (x86\_64) version 14.4.1 Java Version: 17.0.8, Microsoft Java VM Version: OpenJDK 64-Bit Server VM (mixed mode), Microsoft Memory: 815547048 bytes (777 MiB) / 1644167168 bytes (1568 MiB) up to 7516192768 bytes (7168 MiB) CPUs: 8 Processor Vendor: GenuineIntel Processor Name: Intel(R) Core(TM) i5-8257U CPU @ 1.40GHz Identifier: Intel64 Family 6 Model 142 Stepping 10 Microarchitecture: Coffee Lake Frequency (GHz): 1.40 Number of physical packages: 1 Number of physical CPUs: 4 Number of logical CPUs: 8 Graphics card #0 name: Intel Iris Plus Graphics 645 Graphics card #0 vendor: Intel Graphics card #0 VRAM (MB): 1536.00 Graphics card #0 deviceId: 0x3ea6 Graphics card #0 versionInfo: Revision ID: 0x0001 Memory slot #0 capacity (MB): 4096.00 Memory slot #0 clockSpeed (GHz): 2.13 Memory slot #0 type: LPDDR3 Memory slot #1 capacity (MB): 4096.00 Memory slot #1 clockSpeed (GHz): 2.13 Memory slot #1 type: LPDDR3 Virtual memory max (MB): 9216.00 Virtual memory used (MB): 5834.99 Swap memory total (MB): 1024.00 Swap memory used (MB): 433.00 JVM Flags: 8 total; -Xss1M -Xmx7G -XX:+UnlockExperimentalVMOptions -XX:+UseG1GC -XX:G1NewSizePercent=20 -XX:G1ReservePercent=20 -XX:MaxGCPauseMillis=50 -XX:G1HeapRegionSize=32M Fabric Mods: advanced-xray-fabric: Advanced XRay (Fabric) 84.0.0 advancementscreenshot: Advancement Screenshot 4.7 allow-portal-guis: Allow Portal GUIs 1.0.8 ambientsounds: AmbientSounds 5.3.9 antighost: AntiGhost 1.20.4-fabric0.91.2-1.1.5 crowdin-translate: CrowdinTranslate 1.4+1.19.3 appleskin: AppleSkin 2.5.1+mc1.20.3 architectury: Architectury 11.1.17 badoptimizations: BadOptimizations 2.1.1 balm-fabric: Balm 9.0.6 better-pie-chart: Better Pie Chart 1.0.0+1.20 betterbeds: Better Beds 1.3.0 betterf3: BetterF3 9.0.2 betterhurtcam: BetterHurtCam 1.7.0+mc1.20.3 betterpingdisplay: Better Ping Display 1.1.1 betterstats: Better Statistics Screen 3.9.7+fabric-1.20.4 tcdcommons: TCD Commons API 3.9.6+fabric-1.20.4 blur: Blur (Fabric) 3.2.0 midnightlib: MidnightLib 1.5.3 boathud: BoatHud 1.1.5 boatiview: Boat Item View Fabric 0.0.5 bobby: Bobby 5.1.0+mc1.20.4 com\_typesafe\_config: config 1.4.2 io\_leangen\_geantyref\_geantyref: geantyref 1.3.13 org\_spongepowered\_configurate-core: configurate-core 4.1.2 org\_spongepowered\_configurate-hocon: configurate-hocon 4.1.2 bookshelf: Bookshelf 23.0.6 boostedbrightness: Boosted Brightness 2.2.0 brb: Better Recipe Book 1.10.0+1.20.4 brokenleadwarner: Broken Lead Warner 1.1.1+1.20.x c2me: Concurrent Chunk Management Engine 0.2.0+alpha.11.65 c2me-base: Concurrent Chunk Management Engine (Base) 0.2.0+alpha.11.65 c2me-client-uncapvd: Concurrent Chunk Management Engine (Client/Uncap View Distance) 0.2.0+alpha.11.65 c2me-fixes-chunkio-threading-issues: Concurrent Chunk Management Engine (Fixes/Chunk IO/Threading Issues) 0.2.0+alpha.11.65 c2me-fixes-general-threading-issues: Concurrent Chunk Management Engine (Fixes/General/Threading Issues) 0.2.0+alpha.11.65 c2me-fixes-worldgen-threading-issues: Concurrent Chunk Management Engine (Fixes/WorldGen/Threading Issues) 0.2.0+alpha.11.65 c2me-fixes-worldgen-vanilla-bugs: Concurrent Chunk Management Engine (Fixes/WorldGen/Vanilla Bugs) 0.2.0+alpha.11.65 c2me-notickvd: Concurrent Chunk Management Engine (No Tick View Distance) 0.2.0+alpha.11.65 c2me-opts-allocs: Concurrent Chunk Management Engine (Optimizations/Memory Allocations) 0.2.0+alpha.11.65 c2me-opts-chunk-access: Concurrent Chunk Management Engine (Optimizations/Chunk Access) 0.2.0+alpha.11.65 c2me-opts-chunkio: Concurrent Chunk Management Engine (Optimizations/Chunk IO) 0.2.0+alpha.11.65 c2me-opts-math: Concurrent Chunk Management Engine (Optimizations/Math) 0.2.0+alpha.11.65 c2me-opts-scheduling: Concurrent Chunk Management Engine (Optimizations/Scheduling) 0.2.0+alpha.11.65 c2me-opts-worldgen-general: Concurrent Chunk Management Engine (Optimizations/General WorldGen) 0.2.0+alpha.11.65 c2me-opts-worldgen-vanilla: Concurrent Chunk Management Engine (Optimizations/Vanilla WorldGen) 0.2.0+alpha.11.65 c2me-rewrites-chunk-serializer: Concurrent Chunk Management Engine (Rewrites/Chunk Serializer) 0.2.0+alpha.11.65 c2me-rewrites-chunkio: Concurrent Chunk Management Engine (Rewrites/Chunk IO) 0.2.0+alpha.11.65 c2me-server-utils: Concurrent Chunk Management Engine (Server Utils) 0.2.0+alpha.11.65 c2me-threading-chunkio: Concurrent Chunk Management Engine (Threading/WorldGen) 0.2.0+alpha.11.65 c2me-threading-lighting: Concurrent Chunk Management Engine (Threading/Lighting) 0.2.0+alpha.11.65 c2me-threading-worldgen: Concurrent Chunk Management Engine (Threading/WorldGen) 0.2.0+alpha.11.65 net\_objecthunter\_exp4j: exp4j 0.4.8 org\_threadly\_threadly: threadly 7.0 cameranoclip: CameraNoClip 1.0.1-MC1.20.2-Fabric chat\_heads: Chat Heads 0.10.32 chunkpregen: Fabric Chunk Pregenerator 0.3.3 chunky: Chunky 1.3.138 clienttweaks: Client Tweaks 13.0.2 cloth-config: Cloth Config v13 13.0.121 cloth-basic-math: cloth-basic-math 0.6.1 clumps: Clumps [15.0.0.2](https://15.0.0.2) collective: Collective 7.40 continue: Continue Button 1.2.3+1.20.4 controlling: Controlling 15.0.5 craftingtweaks: Crafting Tweaks 20.0.3 creativecore: CreativeCore 2.11.16 net\_neoforged\_bus: bus 7.2.0 ctrl-q: Ctrl Q 1.9 cullleaves: Cull Leaves 3.3.0 deathcounter: Death Counter 2024.1.1 ducky-updater-lib: Ducky Updater Lib 2023.10.1 io\_ktor\_ktor-events-jvm: ktor-events-jvm 2.3.6 io\_ktor\_ktor-http-cio-jvm: ktor-http-cio-jvm 2.3.6 io\_ktor\_ktor-http-jvm: ktor-http-jvm 2.3.6 io\_ktor\_ktor-io-jvm: ktor-io-jvm 2.3.6 io\_ktor\_ktor-network-jvm: ktor-network-jvm 2.3.6 io\_ktor\_ktor-server-cio-jvm: ktor-server-cio-jvm 2.3.6 io\_ktor\_ktor-server-core-jvm: ktor-server-core-jvm 2.3.6 io\_ktor\_ktor-server-host-common-jvm: ktor-server-host-common-jvm 2.3.6 io\_ktor\_ktor-server-html-builder-jvm: ktor-server-html-builder-jvm 2.3.6 io\_ktor\_ktor-utils-jvm: ktor-utils-jvm 2.3.6 modmenu-badges-lib: 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2.3.4+1.20.4 pride: Pride Lib 1.2.0+1.19.4 spruceui: SpruceUI 5.0.3+1.20.2 lazydfu: LazyDFU 0.1.3 leahs-immersive-thunder: Immersive Thunder 1.20.4+1.2.2 legendarytooltips: Legendary Tooltips 1.4.5 libjf: LibJF 3.14.3 libjf-base: LibJF Base 3.14.3 libjf-config-commands: LibJF Config Commands 3.14.3 libjf-config-core-v2: LibJF Config 3.14.3 libjf-config-network-v0: LibJF Config: Network 3.14.3 libjf-config-ui-tiny: LibJF Config UI: Tiny 3.14.3 libjf-data-manipulation-v0: LibJF Data Manipulation 3.14.3 libjf-data-v0: LibJF Data 3.14.3 libjf-mainhttp-v0: LibJF MainHTTP 3.14.3 libjf-translate-v1: LibJF Translate 3.14.3 libjf-unsafe-v0: LibJF Unsafe 3.14.3 libjf-web-v1: LibJF Web 3.14.3 litematica: Litematica 0.17.2 litemoretica: litemoretica 1.2.5+mc1.20.4 lithium: Lithium 0.12.1 loadingbackgrounds: Loading Backgrounds 1.1.0 longerchathistory: Longer Chat History 1.4 macos\_input\_fixes: MacOS Input Fixes 1.6 make\_bubbles\_pop: Make Bubbles Pop Mod 0.2.0-fabric malilib: MaLiLib 0.18.1 maptooltip: Map Tooltip 3.0.0 melody: Melody 1.0.3 memoryleakfix: Memory Leak Fix 1.1.5 minecraft: Minecraft 1.20.4 minecraftcapes: MinecraftCapes 12.3.7 mixin-conflict-helper: Mixin Conflict Helper 1.2.0 mobplaques: Mob Plaques 20.4.0 modernfix: ModernFix 5.17.0+mc1.20.4 modmenu: Mod Menu 9.2.0-beta.2 monsters\_in\_the\_closet: Monsters in the Closet 1.0.3+1.20 music\_control: Music Control 1.7.1+1.20.4 libgui: LibGui 9.2.1+1.20.2

jankson: Jankson 6.0.0+j1.2.3
blue_endless_jankson: jankson 1.2.3
libninepatch: LibNinePatch 1.2.0

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submitted by nahmanhajdklfjdsflkj to fabricmc [link] [comments]

2024.05.07 05:49 kindlyfuckoffff Race (organizer) report: the second annual PDX 50K

Background
Sometime early in 2023, I discovered that any random jerk with an email address can host free events through Ultrasignup for, well, free. I planned and plotted and revised and deleted and re-planned and came up with a course in my hometown: The PDX 50K. There's of course no shortage of Oregon ultras out there, but they certainly skew hard towards mountains and technical trails... I'll certainly go out and do those and enjoy them to some degree, but I wanted a local road-ish run in the vein of TGNY 100, The Great Southern Endurance Run, SF's Fear and Loathing run... so onto the internet my little Portland run goes.
Ten-ish entrants for 2023! Woohoo! "Race" weekend comes... three people (including myself) actually at the start? Not as good. Guess it's easy to DNS a zero dollar event. But let's rock it for the three brave ones! And by "rock it" I mean send us off to run solo, fill up at water fountains and mini-marts, and wrangle finishing times via text message to upload after. Successful race!
2024 version
In between April 2023 and today, I became the cross country and distance track coach at my high school. Not immediately relevant to my "race organizer" career, other than sharply diminishing my free time and weekend availability. Eyeing my team's track schedule and other Oregon ultras as "competition" and/or things eating up my weekends (hi Gorge Waterfalls), I think for a while about being one-and-done with this "race", but then, with no clear prompt or persuasion, figure fuck it let's do it anyway. Even easier to re-up a new year's version of an old event on Ultrasignup. Boom, on for May 4th. One week after Eugene Marathon (oops), same day as a Mary's Peak 50K an hour away (oops), but it works for me so throw it up.
The route
About 65% car-free paths, 65% pavement, 30% dirt "road" (but closed to everything except for parks dept)... and 5% steep and very slick connecting trail to leave Forest Park. A necessary "evil" to keep the route 50K-ish (it's more like the full 32 miles).
Race day
Again the race settles on 10-ish official Ultrasignup entrants. Woohoo! I think, maybe it'll be a better turnout rate than last year... then the forecast comes. Damp, damp, damp. Oregonians won't be scared though... right?
I'm very pleasantly surprised to get a pack of SEVENNNNNN of us at the start point, including three folks for whom this would be their first ultra. I carefully reiterate the point that this is unsupported beyond public businesses and facilities, but everyone seems on-board with that and ready to go. So we're off!
In motion
Very chill start for me, learning a bit from 2023's "show up and blow up" approach. Still, the legs loosen up after the Sellwood Bridge and the pace dips from 9's down to low 8's. I've got one of the six other ultrarunners close-ish on the bridge, but not for long after that. Water refill, toilet visit, plenty of smiles and waves to our incredibly busy paths of bikers and joggers and walkers, then it's time to go into Forest Park.
The close end of the park is pretty busy, including a scavenger hunt-style trail race that's just wrapping up, but the traffic diminishes rapidly as I continue onward. The climb becomes more gradual, I walk a bit to take in some stroopwafels, I try to remember what mile we leave the dirt road and descend towards the St Johns Bridge.
... 20. The answer is 20. And that trail... is not great! In 2023 I hit it while overcooked from attacking the first 20 miles. But at least it was dry-ish. This time I'm pretty fresh still, but the surface is horrendous... for anyone, but especially my treadless road shoes. Ah well. Tiny little shuffle steps down for a mile-ish, back to glorious pavement and across the bridge. "Free" break, then just ten miles to go.
After a 15:00 downhill mile, I'm back into the low 8's across the bridge. I take inventory of my pockets... one Skratch chews, one more stroopwafel, a full flask with LMNT. Not REALLY enough calories for 10 road miles, but it's ALMOST enough and I'm feeling good. Hmm... what if we run faster to get to the car sooner?
I flip my Garmin to "clock mode", nothing to do but run. Split alerts tell me I sneak down under 8. Nice! Starting to feel kinda hard. Back on the waterfront and away from traffic. I'm thinking of the "they don't know" meme and trying to telepathically communicate with other pedestrians that I'm so cool to be at mile 31. Ooh, a 7:30 split. Close to the end! Make some lights, jaywalk (jayrun?) some others, get stuck at a big one, then it's all over. 4:41:30, amusingly like 70 seconds off from my 2023 run. Nice!
Post-"race"
I figure the second-place runner I hadn't seen since Sellwood Bridge would need another hour-ish to finish. I'm also panting and hurting from those sub-8's... and don't feel like sitting around and waiting but DO want to catch at least him at the finish... so why not go run more? I throw on layers, grab Airpods, and retrace my steps at a 10 minute shuffle. Then get tempted by re-crossing the river on a new bridge, so I do that figuring I'm probably still good to catch him at the start/end park even if my "cooldown" veers off-course.
This actually works out just about right, I log my extra four miles, grab beer and kettle chips at the nearby market, and am in the middle of snacking and changing soaking wet clothes at the park when John arrives at a high five hour finish.
We chat a bit, he leaves soonish to get back to family, I stake out the park a bit longer but figure I should leave at 4pm (8am start) to go do some other things with my day. I'm happy to get texts from other finisher with their times at 8:XX and 9:XX... no cutoffs, baby!
The future
Almost certainly running this back in 2025. John suggested BBQ'ing at the park at the finish, which sounds rad. I've got a billion other fatass course ideas in Portland and elsewhere including a full 100, but that's probably further off. As a runner and not "organizer", I've got Yeti WA in June, and am contemplating about a half dozen other summer options for races.
Anyway, thanks for reading. If you're in the NW (or not!) and want to join the PDX 50K next year... keep an eye out!

submitted by kindlyfuckoffff to Ultramarathon [link] [comments]

2024.05.07 02:40 WanderedOffConfused That's not really why I'm here

Today's tale of confusion and exasperation comes from the year of our Lord 2022, in a supermarket of orange whose automatic doors never seem to fully close in the olde-worlde kingdom that calls itself United despite constantly having discussions about being more independent.
It would be a day of over-exertive neerdowells, perplexed employees and unnecessary loss of sanity but all for the worthy purpose of making someone's lives better.
(Sidenote: Can you tell I couldn't really work out how to start writing this down so have written something to purely amuse myself. I shall knock off the faux-medievalism now).
It was obvious that this was going to be one of those days from the very moment I stepped into the Supermarket that would be my place of work for the next 4 hours or so. With a pop-up banner on each shoulder and a case of information and advice leaflets in tow, I was already weighed down. It being a 9.30 start and a couple of hours travel, I was also feeling somewhat dopey. To be fair, this is often my natural inclination but being over-tired does not help. Having stopped in the lobby to get my bearings I was quickly approached by a woman we shall call 'Decaffeinated'.
Decaffeinated: Do you serve decaf to-go cans?
OP: Sorry?
Decaffeinated: Decaf coffee. Do you sell it?
OP: I assume so? There will be a coffee aisle somewhere?
Decaffeinated: Your coffee aisle is refrigerated?
OP: Errr... I'm really sorry. I don't understand. *At this point, I was really wanting to put the banners down
Decaffeinated: All I want is my can of coffee. Surely, you know where this is?
OP: No, sorry. I've never been here before.
Decaffeinated: Well, why are you in a suit then?
OP: Errr. What? Sorry, what?
Decaffeinated: You are bloody useless. Is there a manager higher than you here?
*Note - I should have absolutely cottoned on to this interaction at this point but didn't.
OP: No, I'm here by myself.
Decaffeinated: What are you talking about?
OP: I'm here to run my stand?
Decaffeinated: What? What are you talking about? All I want is information on getting my coffee.
OP: I genuinely have no idea.
Decaffeinated storms off.
Feeling somewhat unsettled and still really tired, I shuffled off to find the customer service desk where I met the excitable but dim customer assistant. We shall call her 'Peppy'.
Peppy: How can I help you today?
OP: Hi, I'm here from charity and we have an information event with you today.
Peppy: That's exciting.
OP: Yes, yes it is. It's always really great to reach people in their community. Where do you want me to set up?
Peppy: *Big smile. Says nothing
OP: Err. is the event co-ordinator here to talk to?
Peppy: Who's that?
OP: I have been talking to Charlotte Smith.
Peppy: I don't know her.
OP: Is there someone I can talk to who might?
Peppy: I don't know. We can ask Charlie.
OP: Okay, could you call them for me?
Peppy: I'd love too! I just love using the tannoy.
With a literal skip and a jump, Peppy then turns to the tannoy and changes her accent to what can only be described as a version of the Queen's English if misheard underwater. There is no reason to add this detail other than its peculiarity.
Peppy: Please wait and I'm sure we can....
Decaffeinated: Oh my god, can your flirting session stop so you can just let me pay?
Peppy: I'm so embarrassed. I didn't want to give you the impression that I was flirting. You're a bit old for me.
OP: Sorry, what now?
Peppy: I'm so flattered but I'm really not interested. I have to think about my studies and I just think someone closer to my age would be better.
Decaffeinated: It is so unprofessional for a manager to be flirting with a young, impressionable staff member and she is clearly saying no. You should back off and let her serve customers. Actually is he harassing you?
Peppy: Oh no. He has been kind.
OP: I'm not who you think I am?
Peppy: I'm sure you are lovely for someone your age
Decaffeinated: I don't care how important you are. It's sick to be preying on young naive women. I demand to speak to someone about this incident.
Up to this point, I have been fairly vague about what I was actually doing there. I work for a charity and specialise in research, law and campaigning but minor in being a source of lots of random, but hopefully useful, information that can support people to have better lives. To do this most successfully, I periodically go to community places and make myself available free of charge to meet and see if I can help. It's a very pleasurable thing to do when I can help but deeply affecting hearing the stories of people who, through no fault of their own, have difficulties that they need support with.
On this particular occasion, a supermarket was chosen hence the current scenario.
With this additional knowledge in mind, I had concerns on the micro and macro levels.
On the micro level was what expression was appropriate for this moment. How to convey horror at being excused of something while not indicating in any way that there was anything wrong with the staff member? Made somewhat more difficult by a face of marshmallow that is unquestionably expressive but with an owner who has little control over what that expression may be. Shortly followed by what words were not going to make this situation worse. There are a lot of words to choose from and far more were going to be negative than positive.
Finally, on the micro level, my shoulders are really starting to burn. Pop-up banners are made of metal supports and really do get heavy and I'd been holding them for some time by now.
On the macro level, I was being accused of something quite serious and I was literally there to talk to vulnerable people who need to have full confidence in my integrity to be able to open up so I can support them properly. It's challenging enough when you look like someone shrunk Hagrid and who sounds like someone who went to Eton attempting a cockney accent. In fact, it's like someone saw My Fair Lady and wondered if it could be reversed.
Public accusations are not conducive to this happening. I had to act fast, decisively and with precision.
OP: Huh... I'm sure that... But I really don't..... huh. Oh dear.
Charlie: Oh Mr OP, I am so delighted we were able to get you into our store.
I had been saved.
Decaffeinated: Oh, you're another one of his hangers on are you? Well, the behaviour I've seen is disgusting and I think disciplinary action is in order.
Charlie: I'm sorry madam, what has happened?
Decaffeinated: Your manager, gestures at me, was rude and unhelpful when all I wanted was to know where the cans of coffee were. *gestures to can in her hand. He sent me to the tea and coffee aisle. Can you imagine? Then I try and buy this and some cigs and he is basically ogling this young girl. It's just disgusting.
Charlie: Peppy, are you okay?
Peppy: Yes, why?
Charlie: Why did you call?
Peppy: This gentleman is here for some charity thing and wanted to speak to Charlotte Smith. I didn't know who that was so we decided it was best to ask you.
Charlie: Peppy! I'm Charlotte Smith.
Peppy: Are you?
Charlie: Yes, Charlie can be short for Charlotte.
Peppy: Really?
Charlie: Yes
Decaffeinated: Is this really important?
Sidenote: Recalling this now, I need to be more assertive at times.
Charlie: Did OP say anything inappropriate to you?
Peppy: No. I just thought I had been over-friendly again. You said I needed to be more careful. I give people the wrong idea.
Charlie: Miss, gestures at Decaffeinated, please can you tell me what you saw?
Decaffeinated: They were talking for ages. I'm busy. I need to my cigs and to go.
Charlie: Did you see or hear anything inappropriate
Decaffeinated: I mean. The body language. And look how red is face is.

Clang# I had finally dropped one of the damn pop-up banners. I decided to drop the other. Who cared now?

Charlie: You mean the gentleman who is holding the heavy banners?
Decaffeinated: Why is he holding banners?
Charlie: For the stand he is running?
Decaffeinated: What stand?
Charlie: For the charity he works for?
Decaffeinated: He works for you
Charlie: No, he doesn't.
Decaffeinated: Yes he does. He said so when I asked where the coffee was.
OP: *Rather meekly. No I didn't. I did say I hadn't been here before.
Decaffeinated: *Pauses. You did say that.
OP: I did.
Silence. The sort of silence where everyone appears to be thinking what to say next and it goes on too long and no one says anything. What is happening is the queue for the cigarettes and lottery is getting long. Really long.
Charlie: So OP, do you want to come with me to set up?
OP: Err.. should we address.....
Charlie: Lets not.
And we walked away.
We chatted about how odd that was and how she would talk to Peppy afterwards. She left me to set up but was back after a while afterwards to apologise again. Turns out that Decaffeinated tried to get her purchases for free due to the inconvenience and had a hissy fit when Peppy said no. Security had politely asked her to leave and, hopefully, after a conversation with Peppy although I can not confirm this, had decided this was in her head rather than an issue.
It had been a hectic start to the day and it was only going to get more confusing, convoluted and frustrating as I met the hareem of Karens an hour or two later. However, that is a tale for another day. I apologise for the length. I do not appear to be good at brevity.
If you would like to hear this, please say. I don't want to waste the subreddits time if it is unwanted.
Final notes. Firstly, hello to all you pre-scrollers. I would absolutely do the same. The words used are as close to my memory as possible. Where I have forgotten exact wording, I have tried to find appropriate replacements for tone and feeling while keeping half an eye on making it entertaining. On the occasion a real name was necessary for the story, the name has been changed but the gender ambiguity was matched.
I'm sorry again for the length.
Finally, I hope you found it entertaining and I hope you have or had a lovely day where you don't have to deal with anyone who makes your life more difficult.

submitted by WanderedOffConfused to IDontWorkHereLady [link] [comments]

2024.05.06 19:41 HorrorJunkie123 I Was Sent to a Mental Asylum in 1958. Arts and Crafts Was a... Strange Experience

Part 1
Part 2
I was startled awake by loud pounding against my door.
“Breakfast!” a deep voice grunted.
A plastic lunch tray was shoved through a slot at the bottom of my door that I had failed to notice the day prior. It contained a styrofoam cup filled with a dark, yellow liquid that I prayed was apple juice, the runniest egg I had ever laid eyes on, two thin slices of bread, a pair of shriveled sausages, and a hard, moldy orange.
“Scrumptious,” I muttered, rolling my eyes. After everything I’d seen to that point, I was not at all surprised one bit.
I decided to stomach what I could, though I wasn’t hungry in the slightest. I knew that I seldom would be in that place, but if I was going to stay relatively healthy, I knew that I would need energy. So, I scarfed down most of the contents of my tray, gagging on several occasions as I did. I left the orange, for obvious reasons.
Around five minutes later, my door swung open, seemingly of its own volition. I cocked my head to the side. Was I beginning to hallucinate already? Had they slipped something into my apple juice?
I wandered up to the door to investigate. I peered out into the hall and noticed Erik shuffling away. He turned around, flashing me a grin. “Good morning, Elizabeth. It is okay if I called you that, isn’t it?”
“Yes, Erik, that is perfectly fine. Good morning,” I giggled. I could feel my cheeks flush with color. I’m not sure what it was. Perhaps Erik radiated a sense of security. Perhaps he had struck a chord with me during our chat the previous night. Perhaps I just enjoyed seeing his face. Whatever it was, I couldn’t help but return a warm smile.
“You’ll want to get to your station real quick this morning, Elizabeth. I like to give our higher functioning patients a head start before I let the loonies loose,” he said, continuing to his destination.
“Erik, wait! How am I to know where I’m stationed?”
“Oh. Right. There should be a piece of paper under your tray with your assignment. I’ve got it right here too, though,” he said, holding up a clipboard. “It looks like you’ll be doing crafts today. Go to the end of the hall and take a left. You can’t miss it. Let me know if you’d like me to, um, escort you,” Erik said, staring at his feet and wringing his hands.
I grinned. Erik was beginning to grow on me. “I think I’ll be able to manage just fine on my own. Thank you for offering. That was very thoughtful.”
“Don’t mention it,” he said, sending me one last smile before returning to his duties.
I padded down the filthy corridor in the flimsy shoes that I had been given upon arrival. If we were to perform tasks during the day, would it kill them to assign a few of us to wash the place every once in a while? Could they, at the very least, change the lightbulbs every decade or so? The lighting was abysmal in there.
I reached the end of the hallway and turned left, as instructed, to find a door with a placard labeled “therapy.” Lovely. Just what I needed. As I would come to learn, the plaque should have read “trauma department.”
I proceeded into the room, expecting to find a therapist’s office. What I actually saw still gives me nightmares.
When I pushed the door open, I found a woman sitting at a desk. Her hair was frazzled, and her hands were folded neatly across her lap. Her left eye twitched intermittently, but aside from that, she sat completely still, just… staring.
“Eh. Hello? I’m here for arts and crafts.”
The woman’s head violently jerked toward me. I took an instinctive step back. Her eyes. They were almost completely red with burst blood vessels. My heart began to hammer in my chest. Was this a patient or the instructor?
“Crafts? Oh, yes. Please take a seat and wait for your classmates to arrive,” she said, her lips curling into a devilish grin.
“Yes ma’am.” She did not have to tell me twice. I pulled out a green plastic chair from the children’s table I was directed to. That was strange. Once I had a chance to look around, I realized that everything inside the room was geared towards children.
A large, colorful rug covered the floor. A Mickey Mouse clock ticked endlessly over the doorway. A wide assortment of toys was piled in the corner. Why did that room exist? A devastating thought suddenly crossed my mind.
Did they keep children there?
I was pulled from my reverie by the sound of the door creaking open. Patients began to shuffle in, some taking seats at the table around me, while others opted to examine the classroom’s toy selection. I scanned the group for anyone I might recognize. Anyone who could help me through whatever the instructor had in store. Thankfully, I spotted someone.
Robert was one of the final patients to arrive. I shot him a warm smile. He kept his head low, shuffled over to me, and pulled out a chair.
“Robert, I am so grateful that you are here,” I whispered. It felt as if I was a schoolgirl again. As if speaking out of turn would earn me a slap to the back of the hand with a ruler.
“Likewise. We have to be careful. We can’t let the Joker over there notice that we know each other. The staff members don’t like it when we mingle with other patients. Aside from the caretakers, that is. They aren’t paid enough to give it any thought… Power in numbers, I suppose.”
I nodded, pursing my lips. “Understood.”
We sat there and watched as the remainder of the participants filed through the door. Once the Mickey Mouse clock struck 7 A.M., the wild-eyed instructor rose from her chair.
“Attention, class.”
Most of us perked up, however, a handful of detached individuals in the corner didn’t respond, mesmerized by their toys.
“Ahem. I said, ATTENTION CLASS,” the woman screeched. She fervently smacked the chalkboard behind her, rattling my eardrums and generating a small white cloud of dust. That seemed to do the trick. All eyes were on her.
“Please take your seats. My name is Mrs. Calloway, and I will-”
The door suddenly opened and a man stepped inside. My stomach twisted into knots when I realized who it was.
“Oh, Doctor Cotton. How lovely of you to join us.”
All of the unruly patients immediately beelined for their seats. I turned to Robert. His face had drained of color, and he appeared as if he might pass out.
“Thank you, Jennifer. I am pleased to join you.”
“The pleasure is all mine, Doctor. Take a seat, if you will. We were just about to begin.”
He nodded and began to make his way over to the table. My heart felt as if it would leap from my chest at a moment’s notice.
Not the chair across from me. Please, anything but that.
Each step Doctor Cotton took sounded thunderous as his shoes clacked against the tile. I tried to keep my head down, focusing on the patterns in the wooden table before me. Once I heard the footsteps stop, I paused. The entire room had gone eerily silent aside from the blood pounding in my ears. I hesitantly glanced up and nearly leapt out of my skin.
Doctor Cotton was towering over me, smiling so wide that I thought the corners of his lips might tear. He loomed menacingly above me for a moment more, before pulling out the chair opposite me and taking his seat.
“Hello again, Miss Mueller. I hope that I did not frighten you too terribly with my demonstration last night.”
“I- I’m fine,” I murmured, averting my gaze.
“And Mister Schultz,” he sneered, turning to Robert. You have been taking care of yourself, I hope? Your operation seems to have been a massive success,” he smirked, indicating Robert’s severed digit.
“Yes. I believe that I have been cured,” Robert muttered, never daring to make eye contact.
“I am glad to hear it. Jennifer,” Doctor Cotton said, turning to our manic instructor. “Please do not delay your lesson on my account. I am merely here to observe.”
“Very well. As I was saying, my name is Mrs. Calloway. I will begin our lesson momentarily, but before I do, I will need to administer a bit of… physical therapy. Doctor’s orders,” she grinned, her eyes darting and frantic.
My heart sank. Why had Doctor Cotton joined us? Did the instructor have a few screws loose? What did she mean by “physical therapy?” The whole thing felt wrong.
The depraved woman approached the table and lifted her sundress. I was instantly revolted at what I saw.
Fat, black sacks of flesh writhed on her torso, pulsating like beating hearts. They appeared slimy to the touch. I wasn’t particularly familiar with the animal kingdom, but I knew exactly what those grotesque parasites were - leeches.
“Each of you will be handed one of- ugh ah!” the woman shouted, tearing one of the plump masses from her skin. “One of these. And you will allow it to cleanse your blood during our activities.”
A thin, wiry man suddenly shot up from his seat. “I- I can’t do this, man. Not again.” He bolted to the door before Mrs. Calloway or Doctor Cotton had a chance to stop him. Not that they tried…
The man reached the door without incident and flung it open. He was greeted by a hulking monstrosity blocking his exit. Samson.
“And where do you think you’re going?” Samson growled. The man began backing away, holding his hands up.
“Look. You don’t understand-”
“Oh, I understand perfectly. I understand that you’re unwilling to follow instructions,” Samson snarled, lurching forward and grabbing the man aggressively by his collar. Samson dragged him back to the table as the man kicked and punched the giant’s leg to no avail.
He slammed the terrified man’s head onto the table, temporarily immobilizing him. “The patient is ready for treatment, Doctor,” Samson said, a smile inching across his dry, cracked lips. Doctor Cotton returned his own sinister grin, before facing Mrs. Calloway.
“You may proceed.”
She marched up to the man, tightly clutching the wriggling leech. Mrs. Calloway held the blood sucker to the man’s cheek as he futilely squirmed and flailed. The man released a guttural shriek as the parasite sunk its tiny teeth into his flesh. The remainder of us could only stare in shock. No one dared move a muscle. Doctor Cotton and his lackeys had made it painfully obvious what would happen if we did not comply.
“Take your seat. And if I see you try to tear that thing off, a puny leech will be the least of your worries,” Samson barked, pointing a commanding finger toward an empty chair. The man cowered and scampered off to reclaim his seat.
For the remainder of the class, Samson stood against the wall, watching over us. His presence alone was enough to keep all of the patients in line.
Mrs. Calloway continued around the room, plucking leeches from her body and handing them to each of us. By the time she was through, small chunks of flesh had been intermittently torn from her abdomen, and she was drenched in blood. The sight of our instructor walking around the classroom giving out lumpy, overfed leeches from her bleeding torso is one that I will never be able to erase from my memory.
When it became my turn to stick the leech to my skin, I glanced at Robert. His was attached to his forearm, so I decided to follow suit. I winced as the nasty thing burrowed its jaws into my flesh. I felt nothing, aside from a slight pain and a tingling sensation. I realized that the man from earlier had greatly exaggerated how painful the experience was.
Somehow, the remainder of the class was relatively mundane. Aside from my blood slowly being drained from my body and Doctor Cotton’s menacing gaze boring into me the entire time, that is.
After several hours of coloring and molding figures from clay, we were finally released from the confines of the classroom. By that point, the leeches had sucked up their fill of blood and had naturally detached themselves. Disgusting little creatures, if you ask me.
“Class dismissed! Please proceed to the mess hall,” Mrs. Calloway said, that sickeningly wide grin still plastered to her lips.
I rose from my chair, itching to escape the predatory gaze of the good doctor. I kept my head down, following closely behind Robert.
“Miss Mueller.”
I stopped in my tracks, my temporary relief shattered. I could see Robert pause for a moment out of my periphery before he continued.
“Yes, Doctor?” I replied, attempting to mask the unease in my tone.
“Stay a moment, if you will. There is an important matter that I would like to discuss with you.”
My heart dropped into my stomach. That was the last thing I wanted to hear.
“Very well,” I said, reclaiming my seat as the remainder of the patients filed out of the room. Once the door clicked shut, I found myself trapped in a room with Mrs. Calloway, Samson, and Doctor Cotton. I felt like a meerkat surrounded by a pack of wild hyenas.
“Now then, let’s get down to business, shall we?”
“Yes, Doctor. I’m all ears.”
He positioned his elbows on the table between us and leaned closer. My head started to spin and I began to feel faint. After our previous encounter, I wanted nothing to do with that man. But, unfortunately for me, I had no choice.
“In case you haven’t noticed, I have been observing your behavior. Upon closer inspection, I have reached a conclusion. Would you like to know what that conclusion is, Miss Mueller?” A disturbing smile inched across Doctor Cotton’s lips. Samson snickered from his position against the wall.
I gulped, a dry lump trundling down my throat. “I suppose so, yes.”
“Miss Mueller, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but it appears that your psychosis is far more severe than we originally thought. Your behavior has been… unruly, to say the least. So, it has come to my attention that you will require oral surgery in order to correct the issue.”
Psychosis? Unruly behavior? What was he going on about? He was kidding. He had to be. I’d followed every command to the letter, and I hadn’t exhibited any signs of mental deterioration. It must have been a joke.
“Surely, there has been some kind of mistake, Doctor. I feel completely fine. Furthermore, I am unaware of the behavioral issues you mentioned. To my knowledge, I have not stepped out of line.”
Doctor Cotton sighed dramatically, standing from his seat.
“Do not play coy, Miss Mueller. Samson has recanted everything to me. This is your official notice to prepare yourself,” he said, that shark-like grin returning to his lips. “I have scheduled your operation for tomorrow morning.”
I was numb. Walking through the hallway, receiving my bowl of gruel from the lunch lady, right up until Mary waved me over to sit beside her and the rest of the group.
I couldn’t even begin to process the doctor’s words. Oral surgery? In the morning? For what? I hadn’t even been there for a full day, and the staff were already preparing to pluck my teeth from my skull. I was in utter shock.
“Hello? Earth to Elizabeth,” Mary said, snapping her fingers in my face.
I blinked rapidly, then shifted my focus to my new-found friends. “Right. My apologies. My head was in the clouds,” I said, taking my seat.
“So? Fill us in on all the details. What’d the doctor say to you back there?” Robert inquired, eyebrows raised expectantly.
“Now, now. Give the poor girl a chance to eat. She must be starving,” George said, twisting the ends of his mustache.
“Um, yes, I-” I instantly lost my appetite when I laid eyes on the gray, watery mush coagulating before me. “Nevermind.”
“See? Nobody can stomach this slop. Not even me. And I’ll eat basically anything,” Robert retorted, a smug grin creeping across his face.
“We can tell,” Mary smirked. Robert crossed his arms and scowled at her.
“Elizabeth, dear, do not feel inclined to tell us anything. Though I will admit, we are all itching to know why the doctor seems to be so obsessed with you as of late,” George confessed, searching my eyes for clues.
I sighed. They were going to find out anyway. May as well rip the band-aid off.
“Doctor Cotton held me back to t-tell me. I apologize. I need a moment.” I choked back the tears threatening to spill down my cheeks, before continuing. “Doctor Cotton has scheduled me for surgery. Tomorrow morning, he plans to remove my teeth.”
The group's eyes collectively widened, the color draining from their faces.
“That man is pure evil,” Robert whimpered.
“George,” Mary said, maintaining fierce eye contact with him. He quickly averted his gaze. “George, she has to come with us. We can’t just leave her here. Not now.”
George took a long breath, before slowly exhaling. “I know. I will need to make some slight alterations, but I believe that everything will still go according to plan.”
My brows furrowed as I glanced between the pair. “Come with you where, may I ask? And what is this ‘plan’ you are referring to?”
George locked eyes with me, a stern severity overtaking his countenance. He leaned across the table and cupped his hand to my ear. “Tonight, we are going to escape.”
Final
OD Post

submitted by HorrorJunkie123 to HorrorJunkie123 [link] [comments]

2024.05.06 19:38 HorrorJunkie123 I Was Sent to a Mental Asylum in 1958. Arts and Crafts Was a... Strange Experience

submitted by HorrorJunkie123 to Odd_directions [link] [comments]

2024.05.06 19:07 CantGuardMe1 Black Jack -- How am I getting 81/85/92 for cards

Running out of motivation, conclusions, solutions, answers. Burnt out of looking for a solution for 2 days now as to why will get outputted with a card or 81,85,92.

Does it have something to do with my swap function? Sometimes, dealer gets 5, I will get 2 cards between 8-10 and my result i assume is 8 but then get outputted 85, are they being combined? Is there something wrong with my pointer pointing to the next card?

Btw, I am also using random.h files to get cards randomly.

Im burnt out man, and ChatGBT can't seem to find it either. Any help? Thanks.
class Deck;
struct Card {

enum CardRank { ace = 1, two = 2, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, jack = 'J', queen = 'Q', king = 'K', max_cards = 13, }; enum CardSuit { clubs = 'C', diamonds = 'D', hearts = 'H', spades = 'S', max_suits = 4, }; friend class Deck; int rank {}; char suit {}; const int ACE_VALUE = 11; static constexpr std::array allRanks { ace, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, jack, queen, king, }; static constexpr std::array allSuits { clubs, diamonds, hearts, spades, }; friend void swap(Card& a, Card& b) noexcept { std::swap(a.rank, b.rank); std::swap(a.suit, b.suit); } friend std::ostream& operator<<(std::ostream& out, const Card& card) { if (card.rank == Card::ace) { out << 'A' << card.suit << ' '; return out; } if (card.rank == Card::ten) { out << 'T' << card.suit << ' '; return out; } if (card.rank > 10) { out << static_cast(card.rank) << card.suit << ' '; } else { out << card.rank << card.suit << ' '; } return out; } int returnCardValue() const { if (rank == Card::ace) { return 11; } else if (rank >= jack && rank <= king) { return 10; } return rank; }

};
constexpr std::array Card::allRanks; constexpr std::array Card::allSuits;
class Deck {
private:

std::array m_deck {}; Card* m_nextCard = &m_deck[0];

public:

Deck() { // constructor default initialize m_deck with all ranks and suits int index = 0; for (Card::CardSuit suit : Card::allSuits) { for (Card::CardRank rank : Card::allRanks) { m_deck[index].rank = rank; m_deck[index].suit = suit; ++index; } } m_nextCard = &m_deck[1]; // Initialize m_nextCard to point to second card } Card dealCard() { // assertion check if deck is equal to max cards/suits assert(!m_deck.empty() && "Deck is empty.\n"); // Get the next card and increment the pointer Card nextCard = *m_nextCard; ++m_nextCard; // Check if the pointer exceeds the end of the deck if (m_nextCard == m_deck.end()) { // Reset the pointer to the beginning of the deck m_nextCard = &m_deck[0]; } return nextCard; } void shuffle() { // shuffle the deck std::shuffle(m_deck.begin(), m_deck.end(), Random::mt); m_nextCard = &m_deck[0]; // reset to beginning of the deck }

};
struct Player {

int playersScore; int dealersScore; bool drawCard(Deck& deck) { playersScore = 0; dealersScore = 0; // Draw 1 card for dealer cout << "The dealer is showing: "; Card dealerCard = deck.dealCard(); // cout << dealerCard << '\n'; // show dealers card rank and suit dealersScore += dealerCard.returnCardValue(); // cout << "Dealer's score: " << dealersScore << '\n'; cout << dealersScore << '\n'; // Draw 2 cards for player cout << "You have score: "; for (int i = 0; i < 2; ++i) { Card playerCard = deck.dealCard(); // cout << playerCard << ' '; playersScore += playerCard.returnCardValue(); } cout << playersScore << '\n'; }

};
int main() {

/* Card total_deck {}; // holds all ranks and suits for (auto suit : Card::allSuits) { for (auto rank : Card::allRanks) { total_deck.rank = rank; total_deck.suit = suit; cout << total_deck << ' '; } } cout << '\n'; cout << '\n'; Deck deck {}; cout << deck.dealCard() << ' ' << deck.dealCard() << ' ' << deck.dealCard() << '\n'; deck.shuffle(); cout << deck.dealCard() << ' ' << deck.dealCard() << ' ' << deck.dealCard() << '\n'; */ Deck deck {}; Player player; Player dealer; deck.shuffle(); dealer.drawCard(deck);

}

submitted by CantGuardMe1 to cpp_questions [link] [comments]

2024.05.06 14:46 eyesinthevillage Call ins

Is it acceptable to request that the team messages the group chat when calling in sick (10 people)? The chat includes some part-time staff and casuals. That way it is out there for people to pick up the shift and easier to shuffle with everyone included.

submitted by eyesinthevillage to managers [link] [comments]

2024.05.05 18:29 Brilliant-Pitch-573 Some sweet OTJ pulls this morning.

submitted by Brilliant-Pitch-573 to MagicCardPulls [link] [comments]

2024.05.05 14:24 WalkofTheMoon NPC sprites

Hello, so i'm creating a game where i need a lot of differnet npc's. They all have the same behaviour. But i was wondering if instead of creating a different scene each time for a different npc, is there a way to optimize it so i only change the sprite and animations? Here is my code:

extends CharacterBody2D const speed = 30 var current_state = IDLE var dir = Vector2.RIGHT var start_pos var is_roaming = true var is_chatting = false var player var player_player_in_chat_zone = false enum { IDLE, NEW_DIR, MOVE } func _ready(): randomize() start_pos = position func _process(delta): if current_state == IDLE or current_state == NEW_DIR: $AnimatedSprite2D.play("idle") elif current_state == MOVE: if dir.x == -1: $AnimatedSprite2D.play("walk_left") elif dir.x == 1: $AnimatedSprite2D.play("walk_right") elif dir.y == -1: $AnimatedSprite2D.play("walk_up") elif dir.y == 1: $AnimatedSprite2D.play("walk_down") if is_roaming: match current_state: IDLE: pass NEW_DIR: dir = choose([Vector2.RIGHT, Vector2.UP, Vector2.LEFT, Vector2.DOWN]) MOVE: move(delta) func choose(array): array.shuffle() return array.front() func move(delta): if !is_chatting: position += dir * speed * delta move_and_slide() func _on_chat_detection_area_body_entered(body): if body.has_method("player"): player = body is_chatting = true player_player_in_chat_zone = true func _on_chat_detection_area_body_exited(body): if body.has_method("player"): player = null is_chatting = false player_player_in_chat_zone = false func _on_timer_timeout(): $Timer.wait_time = choose([0.5, 1, 1.5]) current_state = choose([IDLE, NEW_DIR, MOVE])

submitted by WalkofTheMoon to godot [link] [comments]

2024.05.05 08:03 uiuoftheocb Stand up bass player, harmonica player, violinist wanted for blues folk band Sydney

49 y/o Blues and folk singer / medium level rhythm guitarist looking to put together a regular gigging band and I need soloists to flesh things out a bit.
Ideally I need a stand up bass player and a blues harmonica player who can sing a bit, also would consider violin or lead guitar...if you can sing harmonies even better!
Songs are a mixture of originals and covers, uptempo gypsy jazz feel, lots of boogie shuffle and 1,4,5.

inner west of Sydney
be up for regular playing

Have a listen here or hit me up for a chat if you're interested
https://open.spotify.com/artist/2nLNBNL9bjbPrThROQ6l1X?si=MGS5DO4_RBacXWNWyftO0A

submitted by uiuoftheocb to musicians [link] [comments]

2024.05.04 22:37 nahmanhajdklfjdsflkj crash most likely due to canvas mod

report:
---- Minecraft Crash Report ----
// Uh... Did I do that?

Time: 2024-05-04 22:23:40
Description: Initializing game

java.lang.NoClassDefFoundError: Could not initialize class net.minecraft.class_1921

at net.minecraft.class\_8538.method\_51643(class\_8538.java:22) at net.minecraft.class\_377.method\_2012(class\_377.java:165) at de.florianmichael.viafabricplus.fixes.versioned.visual.BuiltinEmptyGlyph1\_12\_2.bake(BuiltinEmptyGlyph1\_12\_2.java:45) at net.minecraft.class\_377.handler$gbn000$viafabricplus$bakeBlankGlyph1\_12\_2(class\_377.java:559) at net.minecraft.class\_377.method\_2004(class\_377.java:53) at net.minecraft.class\_378.method\_27540(class\_378.java:63) at net.minecraft.class\_156.method\_654(class\_156.java:457) at net.minecraft.class\_378.(class\_378.java:63) at net.minecraft.class\_310.(class\_310.java:564) at net.minecraft.client.main.Main.main([Main.java:223](https://Main.java:223)) at net.fabricmc.loader.impl.game.minecraft.MinecraftGameProvider.launch([MinecraftGameProvider.java:470](https://MinecraftGameProvider.java:470)) at net.fabricmc.loader.impl.launch.knot.Knot.launch([Knot.java:74](https://Knot.java:74)) at net.fabricmc.loader.impl.launch.knot.KnotClient.main([KnotClient.java:23](https://KnotClient.java:23))

Caused by: java.lang.ExceptionInInitializerError: Exception java.lang.BootstrapMethodError: java.lang.RuntimeException: Mixin transformation of net.minecraft.class_757 failed [in thread "Render thread"]

at net.minecraft.class\_4668.(class\_4668.java:126) at net.minecraft.class\_898.(class\_898.java:58) at grondag.canvas.CanvasMod.init([CanvasMod.java:96](https://CanvasMod.java:96)) at io.vram.canvas.CanvasFabricMod.onInitializeClient([CanvasFabricMod.java:43](https://CanvasFabricMod.java:43)) at net.fabricmc.loader.impl.FabricLoaderImpl.invokeEntrypoints([FabricLoaderImpl.java:384](https://FabricLoaderImpl.java:384)) at net.fabricmc.loader.impl.game.minecraft.Hooks.startClient([Hooks.java:53](https://Hooks.java:53)) at fudge.notenoughcrashes.fabric.mixinhandlers.ModLoaders.fabricEntrypoints([ModLoaders.java:9](https://ModLoaders.java:9)) at net.minecraft.class\_310.redirect$eij000$notenoughcrashes$catchFabricInit(class\_310.java:34261) at net.minecraft.class\_310.(class\_310.java:487) ... 4 more

at net.minecraft.class\_8538.method\_51643(class\_8538.java:22) at net.minecraft.class\_377.method\_2012(class\_377.java:165) at de.florianmichael.viafabricplus.fixes.versioned.visual.BuiltinEmptyGlyph1\_12\_2.bake(BuiltinEmptyGlyph1\_12\_2.java:45) at net.minecraft.class\_377.handler$gbn000$viafabricplus$bakeBlankGlyph1\_12\_2(class\_377.java:559) at net.minecraft.class\_377.method\_2004(class\_377.java:53) at net.minecraft.class\_378.method\_27540(class\_378.java:63) at net.minecraft.class\_156.method\_654(class\_156.java:457) at net.minecraft.class\_378.(class\_378.java:63) at net.minecraft.class\_310.(class\_310.java:564)

-- Initialization --
Details:

Modules:

Stacktrace:

at net.minecraft.client.main.Main.main([Main.java:223](https://Main.java:223)) at net.fabricmc.loader.impl.game.minecraft.MinecraftGameProvider.launch([MinecraftGameProvider.java:470](https://MinecraftGameProvider.java:470)) at net.fabricmc.loader.impl.launch.knot.Knot.launch([Knot.java:74](https://Knot.java:74)) at net.fabricmc.loader.impl.launch.knot.KnotClient.main([KnotClient.java:23](https://KnotClient.java:23))

-- System Details --
Details:

Minecraft Version: 1.20.4 Minecraft Version ID: 1.20.4 Operating System: Mac OS X (x86\_64) version 13.6.4 Java Version: 17.0.8, Microsoft Java VM Version: OpenJDK 64-Bit Server VM (mixed mode), Microsoft Memory: 1048591728 bytes (1000 MiB) / 1677721600 bytes (1600 MiB) up to 7516192768 bytes (7168 MiB) CPUs: 8 Processor Vendor: GenuineIntel Processor Name: Intel(R) Core(TM) i5-8257U CPU @ 1.40GHz Identifier: Intel64 Family 6 Model 142 Stepping 10 Microarchitecture: Coffee Lake Frequency (GHz): 1.40 Number of physical packages: 1 Number of physical CPUs: 4 Number of logical CPUs: 8 Graphics card #0 name: Intel Iris Plus Graphics 645 Graphics card #0 vendor: Intel Graphics card #0 VRAM (MB): 1536.00 Graphics card #0 deviceId: 0x3ea6 Graphics card #0 versionInfo: Revision ID: 0x0001 Memory slot #0 capacity (MB): 4096.00 Memory slot #0 clockSpeed (GHz): 2.13 Memory slot #0 type: LPDDR3 Memory slot #1 capacity (MB): 4096.00 Memory slot #1 clockSpeed (GHz): 2.13 Memory slot #1 type: LPDDR3 Virtual memory max (MB): 10240.00 Virtual memory used (MB): 6457.24 Swap memory total (MB): 2048.00 Swap memory used (MB): 978.00 JVM Flags: 8 total; -Xss1M -Xmx7G -XX:+UnlockExperimentalVMOptions -XX:+UseG1GC -XX:G1NewSizePercent=20 -XX:G1ReservePercent=20 -XX:MaxGCPauseMillis=50 -XX:G1HeapRegionSize=32M Fabric Mods: advanced-xray-fabric: Advanced XRay (Fabric) 84.0.0 advancementscreenshot: Advancement Screenshot 4.7 allow-portal-guis: Allow Portal GUIs 1.0.8 ambientsounds: AmbientSounds 5.3.9 antighost: AntiGhost 1.20.4-fabric0.91.2-1.1.5 crowdin-translate: CrowdinTranslate 1.4+1.19.3 appleskin: AppleSkin 2.5.1+mc1.20.3 architectury: Architectury 11.1.17 badoptimizations: BadOptimizations 2.1.1 balm-fabric: Balm 9.0.6 better-pie-chart: Better Pie Chart 1.0.0+1.20 betterbeds: Better Beds 1.3.0 betterf3: BetterF3 9.0.2 betterhurtcam: BetterHurtCam 1.7.0+mc1.20.3 betterpingdisplay: Better Ping Display 1.1.1 betterstats: Better Statistics Screen 3.9.7+fabric-1.20.4 tcdcommons: TCD Commons API 3.9.6+fabric-1.20.4 blur: Blur (Fabric) 3.2.0 midnightlib: MidnightLib 1.5.3 boathud: BoatHud 1.1.5 boatiview: Boat Item View Fabric 0.0.5 bobby: Bobby 5.1.0+mc1.20.4 com\_typesafe\_config: config 1.4.2 io\_leangen\_geantyref\_geantyref: geantyref 1.3.13 org\_spongepowered\_configurate-core: configurate-core 4.1.2 org\_spongepowered\_configurate-hocon: configurate-hocon 4.1.2 bookshelf: Bookshelf 23.0.6 boostedbrightness: Boosted Brightness 2.2.0 brb: Better Recipe Book 1.10.0+1.20.4 brokenleadwarner: Broken Lead Warner 1.1.1+1.20.x c2me: Concurrent Chunk Management Engine 0.2.0+alpha.11.65 c2me-base: Concurrent Chunk Management Engine (Base) 0.2.0+alpha.11.65 c2me-client-uncapvd: Concurrent Chunk Management Engine (Client/Uncap View Distance) 0.2.0+alpha.11.65 c2me-fixes-chunkio-threading-issues: Concurrent Chunk Management Engine (Fixes/Chunk IO/Threading Issues) 0.2.0+alpha.11.65 c2me-fixes-general-threading-issues: Concurrent Chunk Management Engine (Fixes/General/Threading Issues) 0.2.0+alpha.11.65 c2me-fixes-worldgen-threading-issues: Concurrent Chunk Management Engine (Fixes/WorldGen/Threading Issues) 0.2.0+alpha.11.65 c2me-fixes-worldgen-vanilla-bugs: Concurrent Chunk Management Engine (Fixes/WorldGen/Vanilla Bugs) 0.2.0+alpha.11.65 c2me-notickvd: Concurrent Chunk Management Engine (No Tick View Distance) 0.2.0+alpha.11.65 c2me-opts-allocs: Concurrent Chunk Management Engine (Optimizations/Memory Allocations) 0.2.0+alpha.11.65 c2me-opts-chunk-access: Concurrent Chunk Management Engine (Optimizations/Chunk Access) 0.2.0+alpha.11.65 c2me-opts-chunkio: Concurrent Chunk Management Engine (Optimizations/Chunk IO) 0.2.0+alpha.11.65 c2me-opts-math: Concurrent Chunk Management Engine (Optimizations/Math) 0.2.0+alpha.11.65 c2me-opts-scheduling: Concurrent Chunk Management Engine (Optimizations/Scheduling) 0.2.0+alpha.11.65 c2me-opts-worldgen-general: Concurrent Chunk Management Engine (Optimizations/General WorldGen) 0.2.0+alpha.11.65 c2me-opts-worldgen-vanilla: Concurrent Chunk Management Engine (Optimizations/Vanilla WorldGen) 0.2.0+alpha.11.65 c2me-rewrites-chunk-serializer: Concurrent Chunk Management Engine (Rewrites/Chunk Serializer) 0.2.0+alpha.11.65 c2me-rewrites-chunkio: Concurrent Chunk Management Engine (Rewrites/Chunk IO) 0.2.0+alpha.11.65 c2me-server-utils: Concurrent Chunk Management Engine (Server Utils) 0.2.0+alpha.11.65 c2me-threading-chunkio: Concurrent Chunk Management Engine (Threading/WorldGen) 0.2.0+alpha.11.65 c2me-threading-lighting: Concurrent Chunk Management Engine (Threading/Lighting) 0.2.0+alpha.11.65 c2me-threading-worldgen: Concurrent Chunk Management Engine (Threading/WorldGen) 0.2.0+alpha.11.65 net\_objecthunter\_exp4j: exp4j 0.4.8 org\_threadly\_threadly: threadly 7.0 cameranoclip: CameraNoClip 1.0.1-MC1.20.2-Fabric canvas: Canvas Renderer 20.2.2641 frex: FREX 20.2.353 io\_vram\_bitkit: bitkit 1.0.4 io\_vram\_bitraster: bitraster 1.5.53 io\_vram\_dtklib: dtklib 1.0.6 io\_vram\_special-circumstances: special-circumstances 1.10.7 json-model-extensions: JSON Model Extensions 20.2.284 org\_anarres\_jcpp: jcpp 1.4.14 chat\_heads: Chat Heads 0.10.32 chunkpregen: Fabric Chunk Pregenerator 0.3.3 chunky: Chunky 1.3.138 clienttweaks: Client Tweaks 13.0.2 cloth-config: Cloth Config v13 13.0.121 cloth-basic-math: cloth-basic-math 0.6.1 clumps: Clumps [15.0.0.2](https://15.0.0.2) collective: Collective 7.40 continue: Continue Button 1.2.3+1.20.4 controlling: Controlling 15.0.5 craftingtweaks: Crafting Tweaks 20.0.3 creativecore: CreativeCore 2.11.16 net\_neoforged\_bus: bus 7.2.0 ctrl-q: Ctrl Q 1.9 cullleaves: Cull Leaves 3.3.0 deathcounter: Death Counter 2024.1.1 ducky-updater-lib: Ducky Updater Lib 2023.10.1 io\_ktor\_ktor-events-jvm: ktor-events-jvm 2.3.6 io\_ktor\_ktor-http-cio-jvm: ktor-http-cio-jvm 2.3.6 io\_ktor\_ktor-http-jvm: ktor-http-jvm 2.3.6 io\_ktor\_ktor-io-jvm: ktor-io-jvm 2.3.6 io\_ktor\_ktor-network-jvm: ktor-network-jvm 2.3.6 io\_ktor\_ktor-server-cio-jvm: ktor-server-cio-jvm 2.3.6 io\_ktor\_ktor-server-core-jvm: ktor-server-core-jvm 2.3.6 io\_ktor\_ktor-server-host-common-jvm: ktor-server-host-common-jvm 2.3.6 io\_ktor\_ktor-server-html-builder-jvm: ktor-server-html-builder-jvm 2.3.6 io\_ktor\_ktor-utils-jvm: ktor-utils-jvm 2.3.6 modmenu-badges-lib: ModMenu Badges Lib 2023.6.1 org\_jetbrains\_kotlinx\_kotlinx-html-jvm: kotlinx-html-jvm 0.9.1 detailab: Detail Armor Bar 2.6.3+1.20.4-fabric do\_a\_barrel\_roll: Do a Barrel Roll 3.5.4+1.20.4 mixinsquared: MixinSquared 0.1.1 durabilityplus: DurabilityPlus 1.0.3 dynamic\_fps: Dynamic FPS 3.4.3 easiervillagertrading: EasierVillagerTrading 1.20-fabric0.83.0-1.5.4 gbfabrictools: GBfabrictools 1.3.5+1.20 eatinganimationid: Eating Animation 1.20+1.9.61 ecs: Elytra/Chestplate Swapper 1.3.0-MC1.20 enchdesc: EnchantmentDescriptions 20.0.2 enhanced\_attack\_indicator: Enhanced Attack Indicator 1.0.4+1.20.3 enhancedvisuals: EnhancedVisuals 1.6.9 entity\_model\_features: Entity Model Features 1.3 entity\_texture\_features: Entity Texture Features 5.2.3 org\_apache\_httpcomponents\_httpmime: httpmime 4.5.10 entityculling: EntityCulling 1.6.4 exordium: Exordium 1.2.1 explosiveenhancement: Explosive Enhancement 1.2.2-1.20.x fabric-api: Fabric API 0.96.11+1.20.4 fabric-api-lookup-api-v1: Fabric API Lookup API (v1) 1.6.49+82b1bb3e4f fabric-biome-api-v1: Fabric Biome API (v1) 13.0.16+78d798af4f fabric-block-api-v1: Fabric Block API (v1) 1.0.16+3e2216cb4f fabric-block-view-api-v2: Fabric BlockView API (v2) 1.0.4+78d798af4f fabric-blockrenderlayer-v1: Fabric BlockRenderLayer Registration (v1) 1.1.46+78d798af4f fabric-client-tags-api-v1: Fabric Client Tags 1.1.7+78d798af4f fabric-command-api-v1: Fabric Command API (v1) 1.2.41+f71b366f4f fabric-commands-v0: Fabric Commands (v0) 0.2.58+df3654b34f fabric-containers-v0: Fabric Containers (v0) 0.1.86+df3654b34f fabric-content-registries-v0: Fabric Content Registries (v0) 5.0.15+78d798af4f fabric-convention-tags-v1: Fabric Convention Tags 1.5.10+78d798af4f fabric-crash-report-info-v1: Fabric Crash Report Info (v1) 0.2.23+78d798af4f fabric-data-attachment-api-v1: Fabric Data Attachment API (v1) 1.1.4+b90db5744f fabric-data-generation-api-v1: Fabric Data Generation API (v1) 13.2.4+5c0133444f fabric-dimensions-v1: Fabric Dimensions API (v1) 2.1.61+78d798af4f fabric-entity-events-v1: Fabric Entity Events (v1) 1.6.1+09fc25014f fabric-events-interaction-v0: Fabric Events Interaction (v0) 0.7.1+389931eb4f fabric-events-lifecycle-v0: Fabric Events Lifecycle (v0) 0.2.74+df3654b34f fabric-game-rule-api-v1: Fabric Game Rule API (v1) 1.0.46+78d798af4f fabric-item-api-v1: Fabric Item API (v1) 2.2.0+d6f2b0844f fabric-item-group-api-v1: Fabric Item Group API (v1) 4.0.26+58f8c0124f fabric-key-binding-api-v1: Fabric Key Binding API (v1) 1.0.41+78d798af4f fabric-keybindings-v0: Fabric Key Bindings (v0) 0.2.39+df3654b34f fabric-loot-api-v2: Fabric Loot API (v2) 2.1.9+78d798af4f fabric-message-api-v1: Fabric Message API (v1) 6.0.5+78d798af4f fabric-mining-level-api-v1: Fabric Mining Level API (v1) 2.1.65+78d798af4f fabric-model-loading-api-v1: Fabric Model Loading API (v1) 1.0.8+78d798af4f fabric-models-v0: Fabric Models (v0) 0.4.7+9386d8a74f fabric-object-builder-api-v1: Fabric Object Builder API (v1) 13.0.14+080016e44f fabric-recipe-api-v1: Fabric Recipe API (v1) 2.0.20+78d798af4f fabric-renderer-api-v1: Fabric Renderer API (v1) 3.2.4+78d798af4f fabric-renderer-indigo: Fabric Renderer - Indigo 1.5.4+78d798af4f fabric-renderer-registries-v1: Fabric Renderer Registries (v1) 3.2.53+df3654b34f fabric-rendering-data-attachment-v1: Fabric Rendering Data Attachment (v1) 0.3.42+73761d2e4f fabric-rendering-fluids-v1: Fabric Rendering Fluids (v1) 3.1.1+e761c6694f fabric-rendering-v0: Fabric Rendering (v0) 1.1.56+df3654b34f fabric-rendering-v1: Fabric Rendering (v1) 3.2.0+6fd945a04f fabric-resource-conditions-api-v1: Fabric Resource Conditions API (v1) 2.3.14+78d798af4f fabric-screen-api-v1: Fabric Screen API (v1) 2.0.17+78d798af4f fabric-screen-handler-api-v1: Fabric Screen Handler API (v1) 1.3.55+78d798af4f fabric-sound-api-v1: Fabric Sound API (v1) 1.0.17+78d798af4f fabric-transfer-api-v1: Fabric Transfer API (v1) 4.0.11+eb30349a4f fabric-transitive-access-wideners-v1: Fabric Transitive Access Wideners (v1) 5.0.14+78d798af4f fabric-language-kotlin: Fabric Language Kotlin 1.10.19+kotlin.1.9.23 org\_jetbrains\_kotlin\_kotlin-reflect: kotlin-reflect 1.9.23 org\_jetbrains\_kotlin\_kotlin-stdlib: kotlin-stdlib 1.9.23 org\_jetbrains\_kotlin\_kotlin-stdlib-jdk7: kotlin-stdlib-jdk7 1.9.23 org\_jetbrains\_kotlin\_kotlin-stdlib-jdk8: kotlin-stdlib-jdk8 1.9.23 org\_jetbrains\_kotlinx\_atomicfu-jvm: atomicfu-jvm 0.23.2 org\_jetbrains\_kotlinx\_kotlinx-coroutines-core-jvm: kotlinx-coroutines-core-jvm 1.8.0 org\_jetbrains\_kotlinx\_kotlinx-coroutines-jdk8: kotlinx-coroutines-jdk8 1.8.0 org\_jetbrains\_kotlinx\_kotlinx-datetime-jvm: kotlinx-datetime-jvm 0.5.0 org\_jetbrains\_kotlinx\_kotlinx-serialization-cbor-jvm: kotlinx-serialization-cbor-jvm 1.6.3 org\_jetbrains\_kotlinx\_kotlinx-serialization-core-jvm: kotlinx-serialization-core-jvm 1.6.3 org\_jetbrains\_kotlinx\_kotlinx-serialization-json-jvm: kotlinx-serialization-json-jvm 1.6.3 fabricloader: Fabric Loader 0.15.10 mixinextras: MixinExtras 0.3.5 fadeless: Fadeless 1.0.1 fallingleaves: Falling Leaves 1.15.5 fancymenu: FancyMenu 3.1.2 com\_github\_keksuccino\_japng: japng 0.5.3 ferritecore: FerriteCore 6.0.3 footprintparticle: Footprint Particle 0.5.1-mc1.20.2 forgeconfigapiport: Forge Config API Port 20.4.3 com\_electronwill\_night-config\_core: core 3.6.6 com\_electronwill\_night-config\_toml: toml 3.6.6 fractionalgui: FractionalGui 1.1.0+mc1.20.3 freecam: Freecam 1.2.3 freelook: freelook 1.1.5 fscript: FScript Lib 3.2.3 guiclock: GUI Clock 4.4 highlighter: Highlighter 1.1.9 iceberg: Iceberg 1.1.18 immediatelyfast: ImmediatelyFast 1.2.13+1.20.4 inventoryhud: Inventory HUD + 3.4.19 itemborders: Item Borders 1.2.1 jade: Jade 13.3.1 java: OpenJDK 64-Bit Server VM 17 jei: Just Enough Items [17.3.0.49](https://17.3.0.49) konkrete: Konkrete 1.9.2 krypton: Krypton 0.2.6 com\_velocitypowered\_velocity-native: velocity-native 3.2.0-SNAPSHOT ksyxis: Ksyxis 1.2.2 ktnilcks: ItemLocks 1.20.4-1.3.8 lambdynlights: LambDynamicLights 2.3.4+1.20.4 pride: Pride Lib 1.2.0+1.19.4 spruceui: SpruceUI 5.0.3+1.20.2 lazydfu: LazyDFU 0.1.3 leahs-immersive-thunder: Immersive Thunder 1.20.4+1.2.2 legendarytooltips: Legendary Tooltips 1.4.5 libjf: LibJF 3.14.3 libjf-base: LibJF Base 3.14.3 libjf-config-commands: LibJF Config Commands 3.14.3 libjf-config-core-v2: LibJF Config 3.14.3 libjf-config-network-v0: LibJF Config: Network 3.14.3 libjf-config-ui-tiny: LibJF Config UI: Tiny 3.14.3 libjf-data-manipulation-v0: LibJF Data Manipulation 3.14.3 libjf-data-v0: LibJF Data 3.14.3 libjf-mainhttp-v0: LibJF MainHTTP 3.14.3 libjf-translate-v1: LibJF Translate 3.14.3 libjf-unsafe-v0: LibJF Unsafe 3.14.3 libjf-web-v1: LibJF Web 3.14.3 litematica: Litematica 0.17.2 litemoretica: litemoretica 1.2.5+mc1.20.4 lithium: Lithium 0.12.1 loadingbackgrounds: Loading Backgrounds 1.1.0 longerchathistory: Longer Chat History 1.4 macos\_input\_fixes: MacOS Input Fixes 1.6 make\_bubbles\_pop: Make Bubbles Pop Mod 0.2.0-fabric malilib: MaLiLib 0.18.1 maptooltip: Map Tooltip 3.0.0 melody: Melody 1.0.3 memoryleakfix: Memory Leak Fix 1.1.5 minecraft: Minecraft 1.20.4 minecraftcapes: MinecraftCapes 12.3.7 mixin-conflict-helper: Mixin Conflict Helper 1.2.0 mobplaques: Mob Plaques 20.4.0 modernfix: ModernFix 5.17.0+mc1.20.4 modmenu: Mod Menu 9.2.0-beta.2 monsters\_in\_the\_closet: Monsters in the Closet 1.0.3+1.20 music\_control: Music Control 1.7.1+1.20.4 libgui: LibGui 9.2.1+1.20.2

jankson: Jankson 6.0.0+j1.2.3
blue_endless_jankson: jankson 1.2.3
libninepatch: LibNinePatch 1.2.0

 namepain: Name Pain 1.5.3 nbttooltip: NBT Tooltip 1.8.1 nicer-skies: Nicer Skies 1.3.1+1.20.4 no-resource-pack-warnings: No Resource Pack Warnings 1.3.0 notenoughanimations: NotEnoughAnimations 1.7.1 notenoughcrashes: Not Enough Crashes 4.4.7+1.20.4 oldwalkinganimation: Old Walking Animation 1.1.0 p2p: P2P 0.0.13-1.20.4-alpha particlerain: Particle Rain 2.0.8 peek: Peek 1.20.4-1.3.1 plasmovoice: Plasmo Voice 2.0.8 aopalliance\_aopalliance: aopalliance 1.0 com\_google\_inject\_guice: guice 5.0.1 javax\_inject\_javax\_inject: javax.inject 1 presencefootsteps: Presence Footsteps 1.11.2 kirin: Kirin UI 1.17.0+1.20.4 prism: Prism 1.0.6 puzzleslib: Puzzles Lib 20.4.39 realistic-rowing: Realistic Rowing 1.1.0 recipe-book-is-pain: Recipe Book Is Pain 0.11.1-1.20.4-build.191 dark-matter-base: Dark Matter Base 4.0.0-1.20.4-build.482 dark-matter-enums: Dark Matter Enums 4.0.0-1.20.4-build.482 dark-matter-minecraft: Dark Matter Minecraft 4.0.0-1.20.4-build.482 dark-matter-mixin: Dark Matter Mixin 4.0.0-1.20.4-build.482 dark-matter-recipe-book: Dark Matter Recipe Book 4.0.0-1.20.4-build.482 replaymod: Replay Mod 1.20.4-2.6.15 ridehud: Ride Hud 1.3.0+1.20 rrls: Remove Reloading Screen 4.0.3+mc1.20.4-fabric satin: Satin 1.16.0 seamless\_loading\_screen: Seamless Loading Screen 2.1.1+1.20.4 searchables: Searchables 1.0.6 seethroughlava: SeeThroughLava 4.0-1.20 servercore: ServerCore 1.5.0+1.20.4 fabric-permissions-api-v0: fabric-permissions-api 0.3-SNAPSHOT placeholder-api: Placeholder API 2.3.0+1.20.3 space\_arim\_dazzleconf\_dazzleconf-core: dazzleconf-core 1.3.0-M2 space\_arim\_dazzleconf\_dazzleconf-ext-snakeyaml: dazzleconf-ext-snakeyaml 1.3.0-M2 showdurability: Show Durability 1.1.1+1.20.4 showmeyourskin: Show Me Your Skin! 1.8.0+1.20.4 cardinal-components-base: Cardinal Components API (base) 5.4.0 cardinal-components-entity: Cardinal Components API (entities) 5.4.0 cicada: CICADA 0.6.0+1.20.2-plus shulkerboxtooltip: Shulker Box Tooltip 4.0.8+1.20.4 simple-health-indicator: Simple Health Indicator 0.3.0 simplefog: Simple Fog Control 1.4.0 skinlayers3d: 3d-Skin-Layers 1.6.3 skinshuffle: SkinShuffle 1.1.0+1.20.4 com\_konghq\_unirest-java\_standalone: unirest-java 3.11.9 commons-validator\_commons-validator: commons-validator 1.7 org\_jsoup\_jsoup: jsoup 1.16.1 org\_mineskin\_java-client: java-client 1.2.4-SNAPSHOT smallviewmodel: Small View Model 1.0 sonicboom: Sonic Boom 2.5 sound\_physics\_remastered: Sound Physics Remastered 1.20.4-1.3.1 squeedometer: Squeedometer 1.1.7 starlight: Starlight 1.1.3+fabric.f5dcd1a statuseffecttimer: Status Effect Timer 1.2.0+1.20 talkbubbles: Talk Bubbles 1.0.8 telepistons: Telepistons 1.1.3 toolstats: ToolStats 19.0.3 tooltipfix: ToolTip Fix 1.1.1-1.20 torohealth: ToroHealth Damage Indicators 1.20.2-fabric-1 totemcounter: TotemCounter 1.4.0+mc1.20.3 tpshud: TPS Hud 1.7.0+1.20.3 me\_obsilabor\_alert: alert 1.0.8 tweakeroo: Tweakeroo 0.19.2 ukulib: ukulib 1.1.2+1.20.4 com\_moandjiezana\_toml\_toml4j: toml4j 0.7.2 gs\_mclo\_java\_mclogs-java: mclogs-java 2.1.1 vanillaconfig: Vanilla Config 1.2.9+1.20.2 viafabricplus: ViaFabricPlus 3.1.1 com\_google\_code\_findbugs\_jsr305: jsr305 3.0.2 com\_vdurmont\_semver4j: semver4j 3.1.0 com\_viaversion\_viabackwards-common: viabackwards-common 4.10.0 com\_viaversion\_viaversion-common: viaversion-common 4.10.0 de\_florianmichael\_classic4j: Classic4J 2.0.2 fabric-api-base: Fabric API Base 0.4.37+78d798af4f fabric-command-api-v2: Fabric Command API (v2) 2.2.21+78d798af4f fabric-lifecycle-events-v1: Fabric Lifecycle Events (v1) 2.3.1+a67ffb5d4f fabric-networking-api-v1: Fabric Networking API (v1) 3.1.8+2e5ac5484f fabric-particles-v1: Fabric Particles (v1) 1.1.8+78d798af4f fabric-registry-sync-v0: Fabric Registry Sync (v0) 4.0.20+ee30b13a4f fabric-resource-loader-v0: Fabric Resource Loader (v0) 0.11.21+ee30b13a4f io\_jsonwebtoken\_jjwt-api: jjwt-api 0.12.5 io\_jsonwebtoken\_jjwt-gson: jjwt-gson 0.12.5 io\_jsonwebtoken\_jjwt-impl: jjwt-impl 0.12.5 net\_jodah\_expiringmap: expiringmap 0.5.10 net\_lenni0451\_commons\_httpclient: httpclient 1.4.1 net\_lenni0451\_mcping: MCPing 1.4.0 net\_lenni0451\_mcstructs-bedrock\_forms: forms 1.2.0 net\_lenni0451\_mcstructs-bedrock\_text: text 1.2.0 net\_lenni0451\_reflect: Reflect 1.3.2 net\_raphimc\_minecraftauth: MinecraftAuth 4.0.0 net\_raphimc\_viaaprilfools: ViaAprilFools 2.0.11 net\_raphimc\_viabedrock: ViaBedrock 0.0.6-SNAPSHOT net\_raphimc\_vialegacy: ViaLegacy 2.2.22 net\_raphimc\_vialoader: ViaLoader 2.2.13 org\_cloudburstmc\_netty\_netty-transport-raknet: netty-transport-raknet 1.0.0.CR3-SNAPSHOT org\_iq80\_leveldb\_leveldb: leveldb 0.12 org\_iq80\_leveldb\_leveldb-api: leveldb-api 0.12 org\_lz4\_lz4-pure-java: lz4-pure-java 1.8.0 org\_yaml\_snakeyaml: snakeyaml 2.2 visiblebarriers: Visible Barriers 2.0.11 visuality: Visuality 0.7.3+1.20.4 visualoverhaul: VisualOverhaul 5.1.0 vmp: Very Many Players 0.2.0+beta.7.139 com\_ibm\_async\_asyncutil: asyncutil 0.1.0 voicechat: Simple Voice Chat 1.20.4-2.5.11 voxelmap: Voxelmap 1.20.4-1.12.17 wakes: Wakes 0.2.3 com\_github\_jdiemke\_delaunay-triangulator\_delaunaytriangulator: DelaunayTriangulator 1.0.0 waveycapes: WaveyCapes 1.4.5 weaponmaster: YDM's Weapon Master 3.0.5 wearthat: WearThat 1.19.4\_1.0.0 whats\_that\_slot: What's That Slot? 1.3.5+1.20.4 whoami: Who am I? 1.0 widertab: WiderTab 1.0.0+1.20.4 worldedit: WorldEdit 7.3.0+6678-55745ad yet\_another\_config\_lib\_v3: YetAnotherConfigLib 3.3.2+1.20.4 com\_twelvemonkeys\_common\_common-image: common-image 3.10.0 com\_twelvemonkeys\_common\_common-io: common-io 3.10.0 com\_twelvemonkeys\_common\_common-lang: common-lang 3.10.0 com\_twelvemonkeys\_imageio\_imageio-core: imageio-core 3.10.0 com\_twelvemonkeys\_imageio\_imageio-metadata: imageio-metadata 3.10.0 com\_twelvemonkeys\_imageio\_imageio-webp: imageio-webp 3.10.0 org\_quiltmc\_parsers\_gson: gson 0.2.1 org\_quiltmc\_parsers\_json: json 0.2.1 zoomify: Zoomify 2.13.2 com\_akuleshov7\_ktoml-core-jvm: ktoml-core-jvm 0.5.1 dev\_isxander\_settxi\_settxi-core: settxi-core 2.10.6 dev\_isxander\_settxi\_settxi-kotlinx-serialization: settxi-kotlinx-serialization 2.10.6 Launched Version: fabric-loader-0.15.10-1.20.4 Launcher name: minecraft-launcher Backend library: LWJGL version 3.3.2-snapshot Backend API: Intel(R) Iris(TM) Plus Graphics 645 GL version 4.1 INTEL-20.6.4, Intel Inc. Window size:  GL Caps: Using framebuffer using OpenGL 3.2 GL debug messages:  Using VBOs: Yes Is Modded: Definitely; Client brand changed to 'fabric' Universe: 404 Type: Client (map\_client.txt) Locale: en\_US CPU: 8x Intel(R) Core(TM) i5-8257U CPU @ 1.40GHz Suspected Mods: java.lang.RuntimeException: Mixin transformation of net.minecraft.class\_4599 failed

at net.fabricmc.loader.impl.launch.knot.KnotClassDelegate.getPostMixinClassByteArray(KnotClassDelegate.java:427)
at net.fabricmc.loader.impl.launch.knot.KnotClassDelegate.tryLoadClass(KnotClassDelegate.java:323)
at net.fabricmc.loader.impl.launch.knot.KnotClassDelegate.loadClass(KnotClassDelegate.java:218)
at net.fabricmc.loader.impl.launch.knot.KnotClassLoader.loadClass(KnotClassLoader.java:119)
at java.base/java.lang.ClassLoader.loadClass(ClassLoader.java:525)
at java.base/java.lang.Class.getDeclaredMethods0(Native Method)
at java.base/java.lang.Class.privateGetDeclaredMethods(Class.java:3402)
at java.base/java.lang.Class.getDeclaredMethods(Class.java:2504)
at fudge.notenoughcrashes.stacktrace.ModIdentifier.findMixinMerged(ModIdentifier.java:133)
at fudge.notenoughcrashes.stacktrace.ModIdentifier.getMixinInfo(ModIdentifier.java:165)
at fudge.notenoughcrashes.stacktrace.ModIdentifier.identifyFromThrowable(ModIdentifier.java:64)
at fudge.notenoughcrashes.stacktrace.ModIdentifier.lambda$identifyFromStacktrace$2(ModIdentifier.java:42)
at fudge.notenoughcrashes.stacktrace.ModIdentifier.visitChildrenThrowables(ModIdentifier.java:52)
at fudge.notenoughcrashes.stacktrace.ModIdentifier.identifyFromStacktrace(ModIdentifier.java:41)
at fudge.notenoughcrashes.stacktrace.ModIdentifier.lambda$getSuspectedModsOf$0(ModIdentifier.java:34)
at java.base/java.util.HashMap.computeIfAbsent(HashMap.java:1220)
at fudge.notenoughcrashes.stacktrace.ModIdentifier.getSuspectedModsOf(ModIdentifier.java:34)
at net.minecraft.class_128.md37a502$notenoughcrashes$lambda$beforeSystemDetailsAreWritten$1$0(class_128.java:535)
at net.minecraft.class_6396.method_37123(class_6396.java:66)
at net.minecraft.class_128.handler$eib000$notenoughcrashes$beforeSystemDetailsAreWritten(class_128.java:533)
at net.minecraft.class_128.method_555(class_128.java:81)
at net.minecraft.class_128.method_568(class_128.java:136)
at net.minecraft.class_128.method_569(class_128.java:157)
at net.minecraft.class_310.method_1565(class_310.java:1015)
at net.minecraft.client.main.Main.main(Main.java:234)
at net.fabricmc.loader.impl.game.minecraft.MinecraftGameProvider.launch(MinecraftGameProvider.java:470)
at net.fabricmc.loader.impl.launch.knot.Knot.launch(Knot.java:74)
at net.fabricmc.loader.impl.launch.knot.KnotClient.main(KnotClient.java:23)
Caused by: org.spongepowered.asm.mixin.transformer.throwables.MixinTransformerError: An unexpected critical error was encountered
at org.spongepowered.asm.mixin.transformer.MixinProcessor.applyMixins(MixinProcessor.java:392)
at org.spongepowered.asm.mixin.transformer.MixinTransformer.transformClass(MixinTransformer.java:234)
at org.spongepowered.asm.mixin.transformer.MixinTransformer.transformClassBytes(MixinTransformer.java:202)
at io.gitlab.jfronny.libjf.unsafe.asm.AsmTransformer.transformClassBytes(AsmTransformer.java:75)
at net.fabricmc.loader.impl.launch.knot.KnotClassDelegate.getPostMixinClassByteArray(KnotClassDelegate.java:422)
... 27 more
Caused by: org.spongepowered.asm.mixin.throwables.MixinApplyError: Mixin [mixins.canvas.client.json:MixinRenderBuffers from mod canvas] from phase [DEFAULT] in config [mixins.canvas.client.json] FAILED during APPLY
at org.spongepowered.asm.mixin.transformer.MixinProcessor.handleMixinError(MixinProcessor.java:638)
at org.spongepowered.asm.mixin.transformer.MixinProcessor.handleMixinApplyError(MixinProcessor.java:589)
at org.spongepowered.asm.mixin.transformer.MixinProcessor.applyMixins(MixinProcessor.java:379)
... 31 more
Caused by: org.spongepowered.asm.mixin.transformer.throwables.InvalidMixinException: u/Shadow field field_20958 was not located in the target class net.minecraft.class_4599. Using refmap canvas-refmap.json
at org.spongepowered.asm.mixin.transformer.MixinPreProcessorStandard.attachFields(MixinPreProcessorStandard.java:624)
at org.spongepowered.asm.mixin.transformer.MixinPreProcessorStandard.attach(MixinPreProcessorStandard.java:302)
at org.spongepowered.asm.mixin.transformer.MixinPreProcessorStandard.createContextFor(MixinPreProcessorStandard.java:277)
at org.spongepowered.asm.mixin.transformer.MixinInfo.createContextFor(MixinInfo.java:1289)
at org.spongepowered.asm.mixin.transformer.MixinApplicatorStandard.apply(MixinApplicatorStandard.java:294)
at org.spongepowered.asm.mixin.transformer.TargetClassContext.apply(TargetClassContext.java:422)
at org.spongepowered.asm.mixin.transformer.TargetClassContext.applyMixins(TargetClassContext.java:403)
at org.spongepowered.asm.mixin.transformer.MixinProcessor.applyMixins(MixinProcessor.java:363)
... 31 more

submitted by nahmanhajdklfjdsflkj to fabricmc [link] [comments]

2024.05.04 18:37 Calledinthe90s 13: The Tale of the Five Bouncers, part one

I was sitting in the Jet Set with a few of my bouncer clients, Sebastian, Earl and Sparky.
“Why do we gotta sit so far from the stage?” Sparky said. He was a bouncer at the Jet Set, and his friends had christened him ‘Sparky’ when he’d been hit with an arson charge. The arson charges were a thing of the past, thanks to me, but Sparky’s nickname had stuck.
“This is my favourite table,” I said. I hate loud noise, and for me the worst noise of all is loud music. We were sitting at a dark table in a distant corner with almost no view of the stage, a small acoustic oasis that didn’t have a speaker pointed at it. Sebastian, the Jet Set’s bouncer-in-chief, sat across from me, his face in shadow. His second in command, Earl, was there as well. They’d been present at court to watch the arson charges die, and they hadn’t stopped making jokes about it. The charges had fizzled out, Sebastian said. The prosecutor got burned, Earl replied.
“Got a light, Sparky?” Sebastian said, sticking out a cigarette, it being legal back then to smoke in public places. They yuck yucked together, and I laughed with them as they smoked, sitting in a dark corner of the Jet Set. This was before my wife banned me from the place, when I was still allowed to meet clients there. Sparky was buying me a round or two or three, as a way of saying thanks for a job well done.
“So why’d Sparky walk, when everyone else got convicted?” Sebastian was a frequent flier at the local provincial courthouse, and he needed to know how his buddy had managed to avoid conviction on what had looked like a solid crown case. It had been a rather clumsy arson, involving more people than were needed, and a lot more talk than was necessary, both before the fire and after. The home owner and his friends all went to jail. Sparky, the man who actually set the blaze, was the only one to walk free. “Sparky, tell him what you said when the cops arrested you,” I said, raising my Guinness for another sip.
“I said jack shit. Everytime they asked me a question, all I said was ‘lawyer’. Over and over again.” Earl and Sebastian nodded approvingly.
One of the things I liked about my bouncer clients is that they always listened to me, and did what I told them to do. It’s a lot easier to get good results when your clients take you seriously, and do what you recommend. It also helps when the prosecutor fucks up, and the prosecutor had fucked up really badly. But I wasn’t going let luck take away any of the credit, so I accepted the accolades from my bouncer clients, and enjoyed the Guinness that the waitress kept me supplied with.
Maybe I should have said no to Sparky when he invited me out to the Jet Set. Sparky wasn’t the kind of client that you hung around with, that you had a drink with. Neither was Sebastian, the most vicious man I ever met, nor Earl, a mountain of a man, and next to Sebastian, the most feared bouncer on the airport strip. But here I was, hanging around with them all. Sebastian was from West Bay, from the same place I came from. At work and in court I had to be on guard, and mind my linguistic Ps and Qs. But with Sebastian et al, my speech returned to its default setting, and I dropped the proper English that I’d learned after I started high school.
“Sparky said jack shit when the cops arrested him,” I said, “and so long as you say jack shit when the cops arrest you, you’re already on your way to a not guilty. Just keep your mouth shut, and remember this:--” I held up a finger, and my clients came in on cue.
“No one ever talks a cop out of laying a charge,” Sebastian, Sparky and Earl said in unison, repeating a phrase that I and pretty well every other lawyer in Canada learned in first year law school. We laughed together, and I had a beer, and then another, and then the topic of Sparky’s arson charge came up again, and we laughed some more.
The dark table was briefly bathed in light when someone opened a door, and before it closed I got a better look at the people I was sitting with. “How’d you get cut?” I asked Sebastian. It was a small cut above his eye, clumsily stitched.
“I had a fight last night at the Lounge,” he said. The Lounge was a club at the other end of the long strip that ran parallel to the airport. The staff at the two clubs had a bit of a rivalry, so I was surprised to learn that Sebastian was moonlighting there.
“I thought you only worked for the Jet Set,” I said, and everyone at the table laughed. “This fight was for money,” Sebastian said.
“You shoulda been there,” Earl said, and Sparky seconded him, adding, “You gotta come see the next one. He fights again in two weeks,” explaining that Sebastian was the star attraction at the local underground, unlicensed fights, where he’d take on anyone, in any weight class.
“Yeah, that’d be great,” I said, but the fight was scheduled for when my wife and I would be out of town for a wedding. “Will there a video?” I added, “because I’d love to watch a video when I get back, if there is one.” I’d never seen Sebastian at work, doing the thing he did best, which was beating the shit out of people. I’d read more than a few witnesses' statements telling how Sebastian had assaulted them, and I’d seen some photos displaying his handiwork, but I’d never seen him in action. “Yeah, a video would be great,” I said, not wanting to miss out on the fun. Sebastian and Sparky exchanged glances. “I never thought of that,” said Sebastian. “That’s a great idea, Calledinthe90s.”
The next day Sebastian called me to say they’d found a video camera and that they were going to video his next fight. But by then I’d sobered up, and was having second thoughts. “You know,” I said, “maybe that’s not such a good idea.” It was a terrible idea, all things considered, to tell a client that you wanted them to make a video of an illegal prize fight. My brain likes to catastrophize, and it jumped fifteen steps ahead to the worst possible outcome, namely, a disciplinary hearing before the Law Society. Would drunkenness be a defence to a charge of professional misconduct? No, of course not; instead, it would be an aggravating factor, as would the fact I’d been hanging around in a strip club with disreputable clients.
“It’ll be ok,” Sebastian said, “you’ll see. We’re gonna give it a try out, just to make sure it works, then we’ll be all set for the fight.” He hung up.
I knew that I’d made a mistake, telling my client to get a video camera, and I mentally crossed my fingers that it wouldn’t come back to bite me on the ass. But of course it bit me on the ass. My mistakes always come back to bite me on the ass.
* * *
A week later I was at my office preparing for an impaired charge. My client had blown two thirty-seven, urinated himself in front of the cops, and in case that wasn't enough, he’d confessed as well. I was going through the disclosure, looking for dots to connect. I’d been at it all day, but the dots weren’t connecting, and it was driving me nuts, because I knew there were dots there, just waiting to be connected, and if I could connect them, my client would walk. But for now my brain wasn’t seeing a way to think outside the box, and I was stuck firmly inside. My phone rang. I picked up. It was Sebastian.
“I gotta come see ya right away,” he said.
“You got a court date coming up? Why didn't you tell me?”
“The cops ain't charged me-- yet.” I told him to come to my office immediately, and fifteen minutes later I heard the growl of an engine out front in the parking lot. I looked out the window, and saw Sebastian’s bright red Camaro. I met him out front and put him in our small boardroom, and closed the door on him. Then I went to see Aaron, the senior counsel that I rented space from.
“I’m using the boardroom,” I told Aaron.
“Your rent doesn’t include boardroom privileges,” he said. Aaron was always nickel and diming me. He was hungry for money; his divorce lawyer was eating him alive. He hated his own lawyer even more than he hated his ex.
“Nice try,” I said. I’d drafted the lease myself, and it gave me the run of the place. I headed back to the boardroom, and when I arrived, I could see Sebastian fiddling with the boardroom’s video tape machine. That’s why we were in the boardroom: he needed to show me a video tape.
I wondered what kind of trouble he was in. Sebastian’s next underground fight wasn’t for a week, so the video couldn’t be one of Sebastian fighting, and that allowed me to stop worrying about the idiotic advice I’d given him the week before back at the Jet Set, the advice about buying a video camera and filming himself committing a crime. I’d been stressed over the video thing for a week, but now I could relax.
“Should I get popcorn?” I said. “I usually have a snack when I’m watching a movie.”
“You can skip the popcorn,” Sebastian said, “the fight didn’t last long.” That got my attention. “But the fight’s not until next week,” I said, pressing play.
“We wanted to give the camera a try, plus I had to go to the Lounge, to straighten some guys out, settle a score, send a message. Kick ass. That sort of thing.” I hit pause.
“Hold it,” I said, “the cops are after you. Are they after you because of what you did on this video?”
He nodded.
“And you brought friends along to watch whatever you did at the Lounge, and they brought a video camera?” He nodded again, and my fear came roaring back, doubled and redoubled.
This was it. I was being bitten on the ass for my mistake, just like I’d feared. My client had videotaped himself committing a crime, and he had done it at my suggestion. My brain started catastrophizing again, going over the nightmare scenario of my pending public humiliation. Every now and again the Law Society magazine came out, everyone at the courthouse looked to see if anyone they knew got suspended or disbarred. I was going to be featured prominently in that magazine, I was sure.
“Hit play,” Sebastian said, “I watched this already a ton of times, but I can’t stop watching it. It’s the best.” I sat in a chair, and pressed play.
The camerawork was rough at the start, but the audio worked just fine. I heard shouts and swearing, and then the picture focused on the action just in time for me to see Sebastian’s fist connect with his victim's face. The man dropped like a stone, and lay framed in the middle of the image, in front of the main door of The Lounge, a seedy joint on the opposite end of the strip from the Jet Set. I hit pause.
“That’s not too bad,” I said, “from the sound of it, the fight started some time before you knocked the guy out.” A one-punch knockout is not exactly the toughest assault to defend, and because the video missed the start of the fight, that left a big blank that Sebastian could fill in with evidence of self-defence. “Wait,” Sebastian said, “there’s more.”
From the way the punch had landed and the man had dropped, I had thought the fight was over. I hit play, curious to see how someone could recover from a punch like that. The video started up again, and Sebastian’s victim remained motionless on the ground. Another man, a much larger man, burst out of a door, and rushed out. I watched as my client, Sebastian, swiveled, and almost without effort knocked out his opponent, his movements too quick for me to follow. I hit pause, and asked what happened.
“Spinning back fist,” Sebastian said.
“Not bad,” I said, “not bad at all.” This was clearly self-defence; the second ‘victim’ was a man almost as big as Earl, and if Sebastian had allowed him to get in the first punch, he would have gotten seriously hurt. “I think we can defend this. Let’s head over to the station, and turn you in.”
“There’s more,” he said.
“More? What did you do, kick the guy while he was down?”
“Of course not,” Sebastian said, scowling. He didn’t follow the Queensberry Rules, probably had never heard of them, but he had his own code, and kicking a man while he was down was not permitted, unless the guy was a total asshole and there were no witnesses. “So what did you do, then?” I asked. Sebastian took the remote from me, told me just to watch, and he hit play.
Three more men came out of The Lounge, all wearing the livery of their club: pale slacks, button up shirt, matching vest. They all looked very proper and professional, except they were enraged, and the one in the middle called out to Sebastian, challenged him to fight man-to-man.
“None of your flippy spinny karate shit, Sebastian,” the man said, squaring up, his fists raised, “let’s see if you can box.” Sebastian could box just fine; he whipped out a jab that snapped back the man’s head, and a straight right followed. The video paused.
“This is the best part of the video. Watch this,” Sebastian said. He rewound a few seconds, and I watched the two punch combination land for the second time. The man stared at Sebastian, stunned, his eyes open but his lights out. I could see Sebastian ready himself to lash out once more, but after a pause of a few seconds, the man collapsed into the arms of his fellow bouncers.
Sebastian hooted with laughter. And it had been amusing, in a cruel sort of way, watching a man’s brain run a little check on itself, before deciding it was maybe a good idea to shut operations down.
The last two guys met similar fates, Sebastian dispatching them each with a single punch. It really was no contest. It was like watching a grown man fight with school children.
“So much for self-defence,” I said, “at least for the last three guys.”
“Why not?”
“Because it was obviously a consent fight. Each of them challenged you, you accepted, and then you knocked them out.”
“But I thought consent fights were ok.” Of course he thought that. I’d beaten an assault charge against him the year before using the consent fight defence.
“The defence doesn’t work if you inflict bodily harm.” I would check my Martin’s, but I was pretty sure that a concussion counted as bodily harm.
The receptionist opened the boardroom door. “There’s cops in the waiting room,” she said. “They can wait,” I said, motioning her to close the door.
“We gotta hide the tape,” Sebastian said.
“No we don’t,” I said, “they won’t seize zilch from a law office, not without a warrant, and they don't have a warrant.” They had probably gotten lucky, and spotted Sebastian’s car in the lot. That’s the only reason they were at my office. I hit the eject, and put the tape behind some law books. “No one’s seeing this tape,” I said, “don’t worry about it.” I wasn’t sure about what to do with the tape, but the last thing I was going to do, was hand it over to the authorities. That would never happen. “So what are we gonna do?” Sebastian said. He wasn’t panicking, not yet, but he was close. He had beaten five men in front of a crowd of witnesses, every kick, every punch caught on video, and he looked trapped. Assault times five, for sure, but judging by the way a few of the victims had hit the pavement, there’d be some assault causing bodily harm tossed in, too.
The case looked hopeless, but then I had an idea. It bounced around in my head for a few seconds, that being my equivalent of quality control.
“I have a shot at getting you off,” I said. Sebastian’s panicked look changed to bafflement, almost to distrust. “How the fuck you gonna do that?”
“I’ll tell you later. I gotta work out some details first. But I’m gonna try to get you off. Just remember, when I hand you over to the cops--”
“I know I know I know. Keep my mouth shut.”
“Exactly. Don’t give them anything. Not even address or next of kin, nothing. Nothing at all. You’ll post bail tomorrow morning, and by then I’ll know what I’m going to do.” I led Sebastian out of the boardroom and handed him over to the cops in reception. There were six of them, all big men. They knew Sebastian’s reputation, and they weren’t taking any chances. I watched them cuff my client, and then they took him away.
With Sebastian gone, I was left all alone with the idea bouncing around in my head, the notion I had for how I was going to beat the charge. But this was going to be difficult. The path I could see to a win was complicated, almost baroque, and working out the details would be complicated, very complicated, if I was to keep my law license.
* * *
I had the feeling that I was in a little over my head, and when I was in over my head, there was only one thing to do. I stepped out of my office and walked down the hall, stopping when I reached a door whose small sign read, “Mark Cecil-Rowe, LL.D., Barrister.” I knocked. There was the sound of glass clinking.
“Enter,” a baritone voice said.
I opened the door, and entered the lair of Mark Cecil-Rowe, Barrister, Doctor of Laws, the man with the best speaking voice I ever heard. He may also have been an alcoholic. He always had some hard liquor at hand whenever I saw him, but on the other hand, I never saw him drunk.
“How’s it going, Mark?” I said cheerfully to a older man seated behind a massive desk
“You know that I prefer that you call me Mr. Cecil-Rowe.” The man rose, coming from behind his desk with a bottle of scotch and two glasses in his hand.
“Sorry, Mr. C.” I wanted his advice, but I still had to needle him, just a little bit. Cecil-Rowe had been the leading barrister in the county for several decades, starting with the West Bay Missing Limbs case back in the sixties. But he wasn’t up to big cases any more, he claimed, so he mostly stayed in his office. He was ‘of counsel’ to a couple of prominent firms, and he dispensed advice from the comfort of his chambers. Advice, as well as expensive scotch.
“Mr. C indeed,” he muttered. Then he smiled, and gestured to a leather couch. “Have a seat, Padawan,” he said. Cecil-Rowe was about sixty, maybe looking a bit older, with a neat white beard, and dressed impeccably.
“I wish you wouldn’t call me Padawan,” I said.
“Then we are even,” he said.
Cecil-Rowe always won. That’s how it seemed, at least to me, that he always won. For Cecil-Rowe, words were weapons in the martial art of speaking, and against him most lawyers were almost unarmed. I sat on the couch, and accepted a glass, and held it while he poured me some scotch. He stopped after about a half shot.
“More than that,” I said, meaning this particular problem was bigger than usual. Cecil-Rowe poured some more, and then one more time at my bidding.
“A one-and-a-half shot problem. This ought to be good,” he said. He settled back into his armchair with a small smile on his face.
“Here’s the situation,” I began, but Cecil-Rowe stopped me before I could get rolling. “This sounds serious indeed,” he said.
“How can you know that already?”
“You started by saying, “here’s the situation”. For you, ‘here’s the situation’, means the same thing as ‘forgive me father, for I have sinned.’ When you say, ‘here’s the situation’, it heralds a tale to come, and the tale always starts the same way, with you making a big mistake. And as usual, I will help you fix your mistake, so long as I don’t have to leave my office.”
That was one of Cecil-Rowe’s rules, never to leave his office on a legal errand of any kind. He would give advice from the comfort of his chambers, but he would not go to court. Cecil-Rowe had taken a liking to me when I took space in the same building, and he never charged me for the consultations. I think he enjoyed listening to the tales from of the legal scrapes I got myself into, usually when I fucked up, and back in those days, I tended to fuck up a lot.
“You think I fucked up?” I said. “Nope. I didnt’ fuck up this time.” My West Bay manner of speaking was several socio-economic classes below Cecil-Rowe’s station. He wrinkled his nose, and replied, “I’m suggesting that you erred grievously, and came here for help.”
“Here’s the situation,” I repeated, repeating the words that for us by now were almost a ritual.
“Tell me about the situation,” Cecil-Rowe said. “Tell me about how you didn’t make a mistake. Tell me how you did not fuck up.”
I told him about Sebastian coming to my office with the tape, and what was on it, and what the client told me. I told him everything, start to finish, from the moment Sebastian arrived in my office until I’d knocked on his door. When I finished speaking I watched Cecil-Rowe’s face, and how it worked slightly before stopping, and then he pronounced his opinion.
“On that very limited information, the situation looks hopeless,” Cecil-Rowe said. Coming from him, the acknowledged master of courtroom rhetoric, that was saying a lot. The guys in the lawyer’s lounge said that in his prime, Cecil-Rowe could make a reasonable doubt out of thin air, just with his words alone. “But I suppose you have an idea of some kind, a plan that you want to run by me. You wouldn’t be coming to see me if you were going to run up a white flag.”
“Exactly,” I said, and then I laid out the elements of my plan, the persons involved, the possible outcomes, the dangers to my client and to me professionally, Cecil-Rowe taking detailed notes like he always did, in his own personal shorthand that he created. Cecil-Rowe listened, never interrupting other than to offer a scotch refill.
“I take it you were thinking outside the box again?” he said when I was done.
“Yup,” I said, “but this one is going to be tricky”. My best solutions were always very simple, and with hindsight, quite obvious. But this plan was different. This plan had some moving pieces, too many moving pieces for my liking, and when I explained it to Cecil-Rowe I felt the dangers keenly.
“Not exactly original, but not bad,” Cecil-Rowe said.
“What?” I’ve had people call my ideas crazy, or just plain stupid, but unoriginal?
“It’s called ‘testem perturbans’, he said, “the technique you're using.”
“Testy what?” I said. Cecil-Rowe spelled it out for me, and I asked him what it meant. “I’ll let you figure that out on your own at the library. It’s a rare coup, I’ll give you that much. But hardly original. The first recorded instance of its use is by Hypereides.”
“It has a name, what I’m doing?”
“Of course it has a name. You need to give things names if you want to talk about them. Just as judo throws and boxing strikes have their distinct names, so do legal maneuvers. The ancient Greeks originated these tactics, and the Romans wrote about them. But they don’t teach them nowadays, anymore than they teach rhetoric. It’s become a lost art.”
“So it must be ok, then,” I said, “I mean, the plan I told you about. It must be ok if it has a name.”
“Really? Murder has a name. Does that make murder ok?”
“Sorry. Just wishful thinking.”
“Before we talk about the ethics of it, let’s talk first about what you really came here to ask me about. You want help on getting away with it.”
“Exactly,” I said without thinking and then I almost coughed up my drink. When I could speak again, I repeated myself, and continued on. “I don’t know how to do this, without getting in trouble. I’m asking myself, what do I do if it doesn’t work out? If everything comes crashing down? How do I look out for myself?”
“How do you cover your ass?” Cecil-Rowe said, the use of the vernacular causing him almost physical pain.
“Yes. How do I cover my ass.”
“Take notes, young Padawan,” Cecil-Rowe said.
“Please don’t call me that,” I said, catching the pad of paper he tossed me, and the pen that came next. Cecil-Rowe began to talk, lecturing me on legal tactics in his fine voice as I wrote furiously to keep up with him. I kept those notes, and the notes of all the other discussions I had with him. I have them to this day. Cecil-Rowe spoke and I asked questions and he spoke some more, and all the while I took notes. After a long time he finished.
“Thanks,” I said, as I got up to leave. But he stopped me.
“You forgot to tell me the best part. The error you made, the mistake that’s causing you to panic.” There was no point denying it, so I told him, and he laughed uproariously.
* * *
The cops kept Sebastian in custody that night, and the next morning was his first appearance. I was sitting in the lawyer’s lounge drinking the shitty coffee that was always on tap, and chatting with the other lawyers. It was the usual mix of aged veterans and younger counsel, all of us waiting around for court to start, telling stories, shooting the shit. The usual stuff.
One of the guys was Benjamin, a ten-year call with a pretty good drug dealer practice. He was reading the newspaper, because back in the 90s, people actually read physical newspapers. Nowadays newspapers are mostly for old people, but back then, it was common to see people sitting around reading the newspaper. Benjamin was sitting in an old leather armchair that was more duct tape than leather, drinking coffee and checking out the news, and as he turned the page I saw a headline:
“Five Bouncers Beaten at the Lounge,” the headline said. I almost dropped my coffee when I saw the headline. “That’s my case,” I said, “my case is in the news.”
Getting mentioned in the newspaper was a big deal back then. Greenspan’s career was made by the newspaper coverage from the Demeter trial. It didn’t matter that he lost the trial; all that mattered is that people saw his name. My case was in the news, and that meant I was only one step away from getting my name out there. The lawyer’s lounge got quiet, and I told everyone the basic facts.
“Congrats, kid,” Benjamin said, handing me the paper. The article presented the case as something of a mystery, a highly unusual event, because usually when there was a fight involving bouncers, it was the customers that wound up in hospital, and the bouncers that got charged. But not this time. Sebastian’s name was not mentioned until the end, when it said he was charged with assault causing bodily harm times five. I passed the paper back to Benjamin.
“So you're going to plead the guy out, or what?” Benjamin said.
“Nope,” I said, “not a chance.” There were approving nods all around. None of the guys that frequented the lawyer’s lounge were known for quick guilty pleas. Lawyers who pleaded everyone guilty weren’t welcome in the lawyer’s lounge. Lawyers like that were known as ‘dump trucks’, and they were shunned by real lawyers, because dump trucks were bringers of bad luck, jinxes, harbingers of doom. Benjamin let me take his newspaper, and I headed out of the lounge for the cells. I needed to have a quick chat with my client.
“Can’t let you in,” said the cop whose job it was to let lawyers into the interview room at the cells.
“Why not? I gotta see my guy before we get started.” There’d been a change in plans that I needed to tell Sebastian about. I was going to do a bit of a one-eighty that morning, and I wanted him to have fair warning.
“Short staffed today,” the cop said, “come back in an hour.”
I didn’t have an hour, so I headed for the courtroom. They always brought the prisoners in a bit early, and I’d have the chance for a brief, whispered discussion with him before things got started.
“Why’s the place so packed?” I said to the court clerk. There were lots of empty seats for lawyers, but the public benches were almost full.
“We have a reporter here,” she said, “something interesting must be happening. A lot of victims, too, and their relatives.” I looked around the room for the first time, and in the front row of the gallery sat five men, each looking the worse for wear, their faces bruised and discolored. Among them were broken noses, split lips and fresh stitches. I was still staring at them when the Crown walked in, and not just any crown, but Polgar, a lawyer as junior as I was, but whose career was on the fast track because he was the son of Polgar Senior, the Crown Attorney for the County.
I drew Polgar more often than any other crown, partially because we were both junior and were learning our trade by exercising our skills on the petty offences that were the small change of any provincial courthouse. The talk in the lawyer’s lounge was that Polgar’s almighty daddy used to feed him the easy winners, files where his son couldn't go wrong, helping his son pad his record so that he could climb the ranks.
There were a few cops sitting at counsel table. The oldest spoke to Polgar, and pointed to a person in the gallery. “Reporter,” he said.
Polgar the Crown and part-time attention whore made a beeline for the reporter. “What case are you on?” he said. The reporter was young and pretty, and she told Polgar that she was here on the fight that had taken place at the club near the airport.
“The Five Bouncer Beatdown,” Polgar said. I rolled my eyes as I listened to him chat up the reporter, full of self-importance, trying to impress her. “The guy who did this won’t get away with it, I promise you,” he said, “he’s got a record as long as--”
“He doesn’t have a record of anything except wrongful arrests,” I said from the defence table. I would have added, ‘thanks to me,’ but Polgar did it for me.
“Thanks to you,” he said, “but he won’t get away with this one. We have too many witnesses.”
“He said she said or whatever,” I replied, “their word against my client’s.”
“We have independent witnesses,” Polgar said, “guys that your client didn’t knock out, plus the cops are still looking for evidence. You’ll see it all in the disclosure.”
It was too bad that they hadn’t brought the prisoners in yet. Sebastian would have enjoyed listening to this, plus I also needed to speak to him before court started, about the little change in plan that I had, an extra dot I would be connecting that morning once court started. But then Judge Hermann walked in, and the chit-chat came to an instantaneous end.
The Honourable Judge Hermann, aka the Hermannator, stood at his dais and bowed. All the lawyers bowed back and everyone took a seat. His Honour took in the empty prisoner’s dock. “How are we to conduct bail hearings without prisoners?” he said.
“Staffing issues today,” Polgar said. He told the cops to bring Sebastian in, and a few minutes later he was seated in the prisoner’s dock, while the terms of his bail were set on consent. As Polgar spoke, I tried to catch Sebastian’s eye, but he had eyes only for the young, pretty reporter. I wrote out a note, and headed over to the prisoner’s box to pass it to him.
“Sit down, counsel,” The Hermannator said, “you can consult with your client after court.”
I sat down, the note burning a hole in my hand. It contained a message, a really important message that I had wanted to give Sebastian before court started. But I couldn't give it to him. I could only sit, and listen as Polgar read out the usual terms of release. No contact with the victims, live with his surety, keep his bail papers with him at all times, sign in once a week, keep the peace and be of good behavior, the usual. Sebastian nodded as he heard the routine words that he’d heard many times before. The lawyers checked their calendars, and we set a date for a case conference. We were about to move on to the next case, when I stood. It was time for stage one of the plan, a little wrinkle devised by Mr. Mark Cecil-Rowe, Barrister, LL.D.
“There’s just one more thing, Your Honour,” I said, opening my briefcase.
“Yes?” Judge Hermann said.
“A video tape has come into my possession,” I said, pulling out a large manilla envelope. Polgar was immediately suspicious.
“Your Honour, I object. Whenever Calledinthe9os is involved, there’s always something, some nonsense that delays things.” But the judge made him sit down, and told me to continue.
“As I was saying, a tape came into my possession, a tape that may or may not have some bearing on the charges before the court. I'm not saying either way, but I’m handing the original over to the Crown.” I’d made copies the day before, just in case, but the copy that Sebastian put into my hands was the one I gave to Polgar. Polgar accepted the envelope hesitantly, as if fearing a trap. But the concern on his face disappeared when Sebastian saw what was up.
“What the fuck,” he said, “that tape was like confidential.”
“Be quiet,” I said to him. He was inches away from incriminating himself.
“You told me you wouldn’t show it to anyone,” he said. I wanted to ignore him, but I couldn’t, and my next words were addressed to the judge.
“My client misunderstood me, Your Honour. Yes, I agreed to keep it confidential, but not from the Crown, of course, because it might be evidence.”
“You might have fuckin’ told me, asshole,” Sebastian hissed from the prisoner’s box. The judge silenced him.
“From your reaction,” the judge told him, “it sounds like you know what’s on the tape, and you should keep quiet, like your lawyer told you. Calledinthe90s handed over the tape because he had to. He acted in the best traditions of the bar.” That’s what they call it, when you sell out your client: ‘acting in the best traditions of the bar.’
“Fuck your traditions,” Sebastian said, his voice a low murmur. His face was rage-filled as the cops took him back to the cells, and I wondered whether he’d keep the peace and be of good behaviour the next time he saw me.
“Not too popular with your client, it seems,” Polgar muttered to me.
“Your daddy think you can win this case? That why he gave it to you?” But the judge told Polgar to move things along, and I shuffled out of court, following a crowd made up of the five bouncers that Sebastian beat, along with their friends and supporters and the young reporter from the Tribune.
“What was on that tape?” the reporter asked me when we got outside.
This was my chance, I thought. A reporter, a real live reporter, was talking to me about a case. Sure, it wasn’t a murder case, nothing too serious, but the facts were interesting enough that for a day or two, it had the attention of the press. Here was my chance to get my name into the newspaper. To get myself noticed. To advance my career.
“What was on the tape? Can’t say. Privileged.” The words rolled off my tongue automatically. I gave the same answer I gave my wife when she asked a question about one of my cases. The answer was always ‘privileged’, unless we were talking about something that happened in open court, on the record. It always drove my wife nuts.
“That’s it,” the reporters said, “that’s all you can give me? You make this big show of handing over evidence, your client goes nuts in court and wants to kill you, and all you can say, is that it’s privileged?” The reporter sounded as annoyed as my wife did when I played the privilege card
“Sorry,” I said, “ but until the Crown’s had a chance to review what I gave them—“
“Never mind,” the reporter said, turning her heel on me and heading out.
“You really do have a way with people,” Kurt Mandrick said, observing the encounter from his seat on a bench outside the courtroom. Kurt the Dump Truck was at court that day to plead a few clients guilty, because that’s all that he did, plead people guilty. He’d been avoiding me since the notorious Autrefois Acquit case a few months before, but after seeing me get kicked around, he figured it was safe to speak to me
“I wasn’t trying to piss her off,” I said, but the next day when I picked up the Telegraph in the lawyer’s lounge, I saw that I had seriously pissed off the reporter. “Lawyer leaks tape to the cops,” the headline said, mentioning me by name as someone who had sold out their own client. That’s how I learned that lawyers who gave reporters nothing to write about got negative publicity. But I shrugged it off to experience, and then headed out to my car. I was going to the Jet Set for the next stage in my plan.

submitted by Calledinthe90s to Calledinthe90s [link] [comments]

2024.05.04 13:29 LanceDancer Civilization Engineer (1/?)

“There, barring any kind of outrageous raids this fortress is set for the next 10 years. Enough trade, industry, food production, housing, moral support to help defend from cascades, waterfall showers to keep the happy little drunks clean, and on good terms with both the elves and goblins.” The man said to no one but an empty room. Well, empty is a word one would use to describe a room with just one person talking to themselves, but empty was a disservice to what this room was in reality. It was a collection of history and wishes of the future. A showcase of what hard work and sharp minds can and will achieve, as long as nothing too big gets in their way. Almost two decades of making those on video for a glimpse of internet fame, enough to make both ends meet and fund his own journey of discovery. For a bit anyway.
The full size replica of Gutenbergs’ printing press sat in the middle of the cameras’ view, center stage behind the person playing the game for his audience. On top of it rested the miniature multi barrel roller press and plate etching vats he was really proud of. Too bad the video on that didn't do better, must have been one of the “too technical” ones. But still, it was a snapshot of learning and what he had to offer the world to better understand itself. The brachistochrone racetrack sat next to the other simple demonstrations from over the years, such as the hammer and feather, the electromagnetic nail, and the water fueled flamethrower. All in the back corner behind the larger and more complicated displays that could be moved and were economical to power during the stream. The atlas bridge and space elevator in particular was an excessively easy model to make given the idea it’s trying to emulate, but then again it was just a cool idea until it’s at the right scale. Nothing compared to that wild idea of making an entire 12 volt DC motor, from raw, raw materials And the list goes on, but you ain’t here for that list, are you?
“And in less than three years. Time to pay up GobSlob__773, you owe chat 10 subs. ”GobSlob__773: “naw” “Come on, you are the one that got this challenge going, you really going to go back on your word like that? ”GobSlob__773: “yup” “And if I asked nicely?” GobSlob__773: “I’d laugh harder”
“....Thanks. But hey it’s almost nine anyway and I already won so I’m going to call it a night.” and without even waiting for the chat box to respond, they flicked the switch and shut the room down, all that was left afterwards was the main light overhead and an old man. An old man and a burning, stabbing pain in his left arm?
“Oh no” It was a worst case scenario. His chest tightens, it’s hard to breath. He forces himself to cough as hard as he can. Each breath a little deeper but not deep enough to keep this going. “Aspirin!” came to the mans mind. He had talked to his doctor about the heart problems that ran in his family but all the doc had to say was to eat more fiber and less eggs. If this was a blockage then the blood thinning effects of aspirin will buy more time, hopefully enough time for him to dial 911, at least.
The bathroom was just outside the room and across the hall. “Close enough to get to” He told himself, trying to not let the feeling that it might have been a lie creep in as he reached over and flicked the switch on for the room, starting up not only all the flashy bits, but the computer and the bash script he wrote to auto start everything at the flick of that switch. That was his hail mary pass, the last chance he has if everything fails. “Oh shit, maybe the movies aren't stretching things too far” he thinks he says out loud as he comes to at the edge of the room, more exhausted than he has ever been in his 77 years of life. “Just a step and another step and you can fall onto the sink” Again unsure if he was simply screaming this loud enough in his own head that he could hear himself saying it or if those words really where coming out of his mouth.
But what he was sure about? Tired, so so tired. He’s not even sure when the pain stopped in his arm, but the chest is still tight.
”Why is my chest tight?”
“I’m just so tired.”
“I could just lay down right here, take a quick na..”
“NO!! This is hypoxia, I’m experiencing heart failure due to an aortic blockage. I need to focus, two more steps. Get the drugs, thin the blood, call 911, get a fucking google with voice…
Nearly 70 years of doing it himself fell onto his own chest, it didn’t matter if it hurt, there are bigger problems right now. Again his right fist slammed into his chest this time bringing with it the years he learned metal forging. Again, carrying the weight of decades of concrete forms. Again, with the weight of thousands of miles of electrical highline.
Each time his fist made contact with his chest, it didn’t stop, it kept going. Compressing the sternum inward and putting a large amount of stress onto the connecting tissue might have been something a normal person would be appalled by, but it was deep enough that any C.P. R. instructor would be beaming with pride at seeing it done.
And apparently deep enough to have done something right because his vision and mind blurred long enough that he found himself in front of the medicine cabinet in the bathroom. In a flurry of hands the mirror flew open and off its hinges, crashing to the floor with a muted break. The ringing caused by the panic muffled all sounds that was not pills bottles falling out of the cabinet and into the porcelain sink bowl. Another blur of movement and more sounds of shuffling bottles, their contents rattling around and some containers falling out of the sink until a hand comes up with a blue and white bottle.
Squeezing in the sides and twisting the cap in a hurry as all that was left to get two out of the bottle and into his waiting palm. Then as quickly as they touched his skin he slapped himself in the mouth and started chewing. It hurt. What hurt? Everything.But you can’t feel pain when you are dead, right? Opening his eyes, the man looked up at his shower curtain. It was an angle he was far from used to seeing, but having your face squished up between the toilet and the bathtub was a fair bit better than being a corpse. He can breathe now and the vertigo seems to have passed, the only signs of hypoxia are the tingling in his toes and fingers, something like a smoker's first time. “Good”
“Can I get up?” His mental checklist began. Starting by moving slowly to make sure he didn’t hit his head or anything on the way down then steadying himself into a sitting position. “Ok, looks like I got lucky and nothing is broken.” He reassured himself, he might have been a tough old man but he was still that, an old man. He might be feeling well enough to move around now but he knew the shock is going to wear off soon and he’s going to crash, and he needs to be around professionals when that happens or he really is going to die. But now all that is left between him and where he left his phone was the four stairs separating the two parts of the split level home.
Four stairs that didn’t even come into his mind when he walked up them earlier this afternoon. The same four stairs that he didn’t put much thought into this time too. Right up until the moment his legs gave way from under and his grip failed him for the last time. (You Have Died.) (Primary Cause Of Death: Broken Neck.)

submitted by LanceDancer to LanceDancer [link] [comments]

2024.05.04 11:23 DrYangHF7 My father gradually recovering from Alzheimer's disease via Buddhism (老年痴呆)

Gratitude to the Greatly Merciful and Greatly Compassionate Guan Yin Bodhisattva!
Gratitude to all Buddhas and Bodhisattvas from ten directions and three periods of time!
Gratitude to the Dharma protectors!
Gratitude to the benevolent Master Lu!
Gratitude to fellow Buddhist practitioners!
Today, to save all sentient beings, I will learn from the Greatly Merciful and Greatly Compassionate Guan Yin Bodhisattva to spread Dharma. I will convince sentient beings to practice Buddhism using my experiences. I, not my fellow Buddhist practitioners, will be responsible for my own karma!
I am a beginner in practicing Buddhism. It was only in mid-February 2020 that I came into contact with the Guan Yin Citta Dharma Door, and I had been practicing Buddhism for only two months. As I delved deeper into the practice, the feeling of regret for not encountering the Dharma Door earlier grew stronger. At the same time, I felt incredibly fortunate. In just two short months, not only had I transformed myself, but my entire family had also benefited!
After learning Buddhism, I have come to understand many truths. Upon reflection, I realized that in every aspect of life, whether in conduct or in deeds, there is a need for continuous learning and striving to change oneself for the better. I am determined to diligently cultivate my mind and practice Buddhism, continuously progressing and elevating my spiritual realm. In the future, I aspire to attain the realm of Buddhas and Bodhisattvas!
Today, I am sharing the theme: "After practicing Buddhism and reciting scriptures for only two months, I miraculously guided my father, who was suffering from Alzheimer's disease, onto the path of recovery."
My elderly father, aged 84, has been suffering from Alzheimer's disease (AD) for 8 years. Since 2012, his temper has worsened, and his memory has gradually declined, causing great distress to our family.
Over the past year, my father's symptoms have worsened significantly. He no longer recognizes family members, has no awareness of his own identity, spends most of his time sleeping, and when awake, he always wears a troubled and dull expression. Despite taking numerous medications daily, there has been little improvement, and his condition continues to deteriorate. This has caused immense pain for us as his children, as well as for my mother.
About two to three weeks ago, I confided my father's situation to a fellow Buddhist practitioner. He/She advised us to play a continuous, soft rendition of the Great Compassion Mantra sung by a hundred voices for 24 hours straight. Additionally, my elder sister-in-law and I recited the Heart Sutra for my father, praying to Guan Yin Bodhisattva to bless him with wisdom, calm his mind, and strengthen his memory.
We followed these instructions diligently. On the second day of playing the Great Compassion Mantra, my father voluntarily passed a bowel movement. My mother was overjoyed, as my father had not had a bowel movement in 8 days.
On the third day, my father passed a bowel movement smoothly again! Our whole family was very happy!
A few days later, another miraculous event occurred. My brother called out to my father, asking him his surname and given name. Astonishingly, my father responded promptly and fluently! Our entire family was overjoyed and deeply moved. It had been a long time since my father had spoken.
Soon after, my father's countenance became serene, and the troubled expression that had once clouded his face vanished without a trace!
My elder sister-in-law and I immediately decided: we must recite Little Houses for my father's karmic creditors and perform life release for him!
On the morning of April 6, 2020, just after I released 10 fish on behalf of my father, another miracle occurred. As my father was turning over in bed, my mother asked, "Do you need to urinate?" To everyone's astonishment, my father miraculously replied, "No, I need to defecate" (using colloquial language). Previously, my father had not expressed his thoughts for a long time!
What's even more delightful is that in the afternoon of the same day, my mother spontaneously picked up the Buddhist scripture and read the introduction, then recited the Great Compassion Mantra 3 times in one breath. After finishing reciting the Great Compassion Mantra, my mother said, "I don't feel tired at all, and my mind feels very clear!" Gratitude to the Greatly Merciful and Greatly Compassionate Guan Yin Bodhisattva!
On the morning of April 7, my mother told me that my father had defecated and urinated normally again, and he hadn't soiled the bedding! This was truly wonderful news!
My mother even asked me when we could perform life release again. She wanted to participate too!
On the afternoon of April 7th, I burned 3 Little Houses for my father's karmic creditors, and my elder sister-in-law in Canada (nighttime Beijing time) also burned 3 Little Houses for my father's karmic creditors.
On the morning of April 8th, my husband and I released 17 fish for my father! In the afternoon, I called my mother, and another piece of great news came: "Your father was able to stand up this morning and could walk around the yard with the help of a walker!" I was truly thrilled! After hanging up the phone, I immediately shared this uplifting news with my fellow practitioner! She was also overjoyed for us!
On the afternoon of April 9th, my mother told me: "Your father didn't want to sleep this afternoon (he used to only eat and sleep, and it was impossible to wake him up), and he sat in a chair watching TV." This was something that was impossible before! My father hadn't been able to focus on TV programs for a long time! For us, this was another piece of great news! Gratitude to the Greatly Merciful and Greatly Compassionate Guan Yin Bodhisattva for the blessings bestowed upon my father and our entire family!
On April 14th, when my father woke up in the morning, he said to the recitation device, "I want to listen to songs." My mother was very surprised. My father could speak clearly again, which he hadn't been able to do for a long time. I think this may be Guan Yin Bodhisattva guiding my father to listen to the Dharma.
On April 18th, as my father was maneuvering with a wheelchair, I played a video of Master's Dharma lecture on my phone for him to watch. He widened his eyes and focused intently on Master. We continued walking as we listened. Later, my mother exclaimed, "Look, your father can lift his feet now. It's not like before when he couldn't lift his feet and had to shuffle." I observed, confirming her observation. Then, my father confidently lifted his feet onto a step in front of the door. It was truly miraculous, surpassing our expectations, to witness the profound blessing power of Master's Dharma Conference lecture video! Gratitude to Master!
On the afternoon of April 22nd, my nephew sent me another video of my father walking independently with a walker, and he walked steadily in the video. That evening, my father took a steamed bun and finished it by himself in no time. He even wanted to hold a bowl to eat, but he couldn't quite get it to his mouth. After dinner, my father spoke, "Is that a book?" We were all excited. Could my father want to read Buddhism in Plain Terms? Compassionate Master has come to my father's rescue again!
On the evening of April 26th, my mother excitedly video-called me and exclaimed, "Look, your father is holding a bowl, using chopsticks, and eating noodles all by himself!" I was so moved that tears almost welled up in my eyes! Gratitude to the compassion of the Bodhisattva! Gratitude to the compassion of Master!
My elder sister-in-law and I persistently recite the Heart Sutra for my father every day, burn Little Houses weekly, make time for life release, and often let my father listen to Master's recordings and watch Master Lu's videos. I firmly believe that with the protection of the Bodhisattva and Master, my father's complete recovery is just around the corner!
Master once enlightened us, "On the path of cultivation, focus on cultivating without worrying about the harvest!" As long as we sincerely cultivate, the Bodhisattva and Master will surely protect us and our family! Looking back, if it weren't for the compassion and blessings of the Bodhisattva and Master, my father would not have progressed so rapidly and miraculously towards recovery!
Gratitude to the Greatly Merciful and Greatly Compassionate Guan Yin Bodhisattva!
Gratitude to all Buddhas and Bodhisattvas from ten directions and three periods of time!
Gratitude to the Dharma protectors!
Gratitude to the benefactor and benevolent father Master Lu!
If there is anything that is not rational or in line with the truth in the presentation, I pray for forgiveness from Namo Sakyamuni Buddha, the Greatly Merciful and Greatly Compassionate Guan Yin Bodhisattva, all Buddhas and Bodhisattvas, Dharma protectors, and Master Jun Hong Lu.
I would also seek for forgiveness from my fellow Buddhist practitioners! I, not my fellow Buddhist practitioners, will be responsible for my own karma!
Buddhist practitioner: Zhang, Gratitude and Namaste!
Received: 2020-04-29
Posted: 2020-05-22
Translator: Frank
Published: 2024-05-09
Statement by translator
The story was translated from Chinese into English by meaning, not word by word. If there is anything that is not rational or in line with the true meaning of the Chinese version, I pray for forgiveness from the Greatly Merciful and Greatly Compassionate Guan Yin Bodhisattva, all Buddhas and Bodhisattvas, Dharma protectors and Master Jun Hong Lu.
Propagation
It would be greatly appreciated if you would forward this presentation to all sentient beings you know, sick or healthy. You will accumulate immeasurable merits and virtues. Saving a life is more meritorious than building a seven-floor pagoda!
Would you like to change your destiny?
We will show you how to do the Five Golden Buddhist Practices of Guan Yin Citta Dharma Door: (1) making vows, (2) reciting Buddhist scriptures (sutras and mantras), (3) performing life liberation, (4) reading Buddhism in Plain Terms, and (5) repenting. You will personally witness how you and your family can achieve physical and mental stability, relief from illness and grievances, wisdom growth, academic progress, career advancement, and family happiness through Dharma. It’s free of charge.
Contact
Buddhist practitioner: Lily
Email: sunnypurplelily@gmail.com
WeChat: HanJing20210820
原文如下：
学佛念经仅仅两个月，我神奇地庇荫患老年痴呆症的父亲走上康复之路
感恩南无大慈大悲救苦救难广大灵感观世音菩萨摩诃萨！
感恩十方三世一切诸佛菩萨！
感恩龙天护法菩萨！
感恩恩师！
感恩群里聆听我分享的师兄们！
我今天为了度众生学习观世音菩萨千手千眼救度众生，所以我现身说法，希望我的分享能广结善缘广度有缘，我的业障自己背，不让聆听的兄的师兄们背。感恩菩萨，感恩师父，感恩大家！
我是一名初学者，2020年2月上中旬的某一天才接触到心灵法门，践行佛法才两个月。随着修学过程的深入，我那种与法门相见恨晚的感觉越来越强烈；同时我又感觉自己是多么的幸运，短短的两个月，不但改变了自己，还让全家人都受益！
学佛后明白了好多的道理，反观自己不管是做人，做事各个方面都需要好好学习，努力改变自己。我要努力精进地修心修行，要不断地进步，不断地提升自己的境界，以后要争取达到佛菩萨的境界！
今天我分享的主题是：学佛念经仅仅两个月，我神奇地庇荫患老年痴呆症的父亲走上康复之路
我老父亲今年84岁了，患有阿尔兹海默症（老年痴呆症）。从2012年开始，父亲脾气变坏，记忆力逐渐衰退，我们异常苦恼。
最近一年多的时间，父亲的症状更严重了，不认识家人，不知道自己是谁，大部分时间都在睡觉，清醒的时候也总是一副愁眉苦脸木纳的样子。虽然父亲每天吃很多药，也不怎么见效，并且病情还在不断加重。为此，我们做子女的还有我妈妈都很痛苦。
两三周前，我把父亲的情况告诉了一位师兄，师兄教我们可以让我父亲听百人合唱《大悲咒》，24小时不间断轻声播放；再结合我和嫂子给父亲念《心经》做功课，求观世音菩萨保佑父亲开智慧，心情平静，增强记忆力。
我们照着做了！听《大悲咒》的第二天，父亲就自主排出了大便。妈妈特别高兴，因为父亲已经 8天没有排便了。
第三天，父亲又顺畅的排出了大便！我们全家人都很高兴！
又过了几天，神奇的事情再次发生。哥哥喊父亲，并问他姓什么，叫什么，父亲居然对答如流！我们全家人喜出望外，激动不已。父亲已经很久没有开口说话了。
很快地，父亲的面容也变得祥和了，往日的愁眉苦脸消失地无影无踪！
我和嫂子当即决定：马上给父亲的要经者念经文组合，去放生！
4月6日上午，我代父亲刚刚放了10条鱼，奇迹又发生了。父亲在床上翻身时，妈妈问：“是想解小便吗? ” 父亲竟然奇迹般地回答道：“不是，解大便”（都是说的土话）。之前，父亲已经有许久不会表达自己的想法了！
更加法喜的是，当天下午我妈妈就主动拿起经书看经文介绍，并对照着经文一口气念了三遍《大悲咒》，念完《大悲咒》妈妈说：我一点也不觉得累，感觉头脑很清醒！感恩大慈大悲观世音菩萨！
4月7日上午，妈妈告诉我父亲又正常地解了大小便，并且没有弄脏被褥！这真是天大的喜讯啊！
我妈妈还主动问我什么时候可以放生？她也要去放生！
4月7号下午，我给爸爸的要经者烧送了3张小房子，我嫂子在加拿大（北京时间的夜里）为我爸爸的要经者也烧送了3张小房子。8号上午，我和我家先生一起为我爸爸放了17条鱼！下午，我给妈妈打电话，结果，又有大喜讯传来：“你爸爸今天上午能站起来，在院子里可以推着车子走了！”我真的是激动万分！放下电话，就把这令人振奋的好消息告诉了师兄！她也是无比的为我们高兴！
4月9号下午，我妈妈告诉我：“你爸爸今天下午不愿意睡觉了（以前都是除了吃饭就是睡觉，喊都喊不醒），并坐在椅子上看起电视来了”。这在以前也是不可能的事情！爸爸已很久都不能专注地看电视节目了！对于我们来讲，这又是一件天大的喜讯！！感恩大慈大悲观世音菩萨给予我爸爸和我们全家的恩惠！
4月14日，父亲早上起床时，对着唱佛机说：“我要听歌”。妈妈很惊喜，父亲居然能清晰地说话了，他已经许久都没说话了。我想这也许是观世音菩萨在指点父亲听闻佛法。
4月18日，在父亲推轮椅走路时，我用手机打开师父法会视频给父亲看，父亲瞪大了眼睛很专注地看着师父。我们边走边听。之后妈妈说：“你看你爸爸的脚能抬起来了，不像之前脚抬不起来踢着走”。我一看还真是，接下来，父亲又抬高脚上了门前一个台阶。这真的是太神奇了，万万没想到师父法会视频的加持力如此之大！感恩师父！
4月22下午，我的侄子又给我发来了父亲独立推车行走的视频，视频中的父亲走得很稳。当天晚上，父亲拿一个馒头，不一会儿竟然自己吃光了，而且还想端碗吃饭，但还是有点送不到嘴里。吃过饭，父亲开口说话了：“那是不是书？”我们都很激动，难道父亲是想看《白话佛法》？！慈爱的师父又救父亲来了！
4月26日的晚上，妈妈激动地给我打来视频电话说：“你看，你爸爸自己端着碗，手拿筷子，大口大口地吃面条呢！”我当时真是激动得要流出眼泪来了！感恩菩萨的慈悲！感恩师父的慈悲！
我和我嫂子每天坚持给父亲念《心经》，每周烧送经文组合，抽空就去放生，平时多给父亲听师父的录音，看师父的视频。我坚信有菩萨妈妈和师父护佑父亲完全康复指日可待！
师父说过“修行路上只管耕耘，不问收获”！只要我们真修实修，菩萨妈妈一定会护佑我们和家人的！一路走来若不是菩萨和师父的慈悲加持，父亲不会如此快速而神奇地一步步走向康复！
再次感恩南无大慈大悲救苦救难广大灵感观世音菩萨摩诃萨，感恩十方三世一切诸佛菩萨及龙天护法金刚菩萨！感恩弘法度众舍身忘我的恩师慈父卢军宏台长！
如果分享中有不如理不如法的地方，请大慈大悲观世音菩萨及诸佛菩萨、龙天护法、师父和师兄们慈悲原谅。我自己的业障自己背，不让师兄们背！
分享人：张同修感恩合十
2020-04-29 收到
2020-05-22 发布
您想改变命运吗？
我们手把手传授您观世音菩萨的心灵法门五大法宝：“许愿”、“放生”、“念经”、“读《白话佛法》、大忏悔”。您将亲自见证如何通过佛法让自己及家人获得身心安定、病苦解除、冤结化解、智慧增长、学业进步、事业提升、家庭幸福。免费学习，免费结缘。
欢迎联络Lily佛友：sunnypurplelily@gmail.com
或者加Lily佛友微信：HanJing20210820
Disclaimer of Liability:
The contents of the presentation and answers, including text, images, and other information obtained from Dharma practitioners, are provided strictly for reference purposes. Due to the unique nature of individual karma, results similar to those experienced by the authors may not be replicated. The experiences and advice shared should not be construed as medical advice or a diagnosis.
In the event of an emergency, it is crucial to promptly contact your doctor or emergency services by dialing 911. Relying on any information found in the answers is done solely at your own risk. The translator and answerer bear no responsibility for the consequences. By using or misusing the contents, you accept liability for any personal injury, including death. It is imperative to exercise caution and seek professional medical guidance for health-related concerns.

submitted by DrYangHF7 to CittaPureLand [link] [comments]

2024.05.04 08:51 Vibesandtoast accidentally drew a card, dont have to shuffe??

playing DB and this guy drew an extra card during first turn draw phase. I caught him and said to put it back and shuffle. claimed it was a misclick and they didnt have to shuffle? no judge was online so they held the game hostage until i let them continue knowing what card was next. Asked in public chat and one guy sided with my opponent... theres no way im wrong here right?

submitted by Vibesandtoast to Goat_Format [link] [comments]

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submitted by FancyInvestment397 to OnlineCasinoGuid [link] [comments]

2024.05.03 17:49 Calledinthe90s 8. Lawyer as sidepiece

Some lawyers go steady with their clients, and stick with them for years. But me, not so much. My clients come to me sometimes just for a quickie, and although it pays well, it leaves me feeling cheap, and a bit dirty. This is a story about one of those times.
I was in a client’s boardroom a few years ago. They’d called me in to complain about a bill.
“What’s wrong with it?” I said to them, the members of the board, once we’d finished the “hi’s” and “hellos” and the bullshit.
“But it’s so big,” they said.
“It wasn’t as big as the bills you got from Big Downtown Firm.” I’d taken over the file from a much bigger firm. By Big Firm standards my bill was small, but I was Small Firm, and my client was bothered by my bill. To be fair, it was rather large, considering that I’d had the file for less than two business days.
“Do you really think this is justified?” the chairman said.
“The Plaintiff was destroying you in court, but I killed his case in two days, once you got smart, and sent me the file.”
“But you didn't even go to court. You’re taking credit for what the first firm did,” the Chairman said. That’s how the board saw the file, like it was a ball game where they already had a big lead, and I got called in to pitch the last out.
“So you think that the Plaintiff, after beating the shit of your lawyers over and over again, lost his nerve, and dropped the action for no reason?”
Unlike some of his fellow board members, the chairman had something of a brain, and was amenable to argument, sometimes. My remark gave him pause.
“Ok,” he said, “but did you do anything to make him drop it?”
“Yes,” I said, “I asked him to drop it.”
“You told him?”
“I asked him, but it might have come out sounding a bit like a message. Sometimes that’s all it takes, is knowing how to send someone a message.” Then I told them about the message I’d sent, and how I’d sent it.
* * *
The previous Friday it was nearing the end of the day, and my client called me, my client being the company’s C.E.O. She wasn’t like her board at all. She knew all about sending messages.
“Kill this thing,” she said, “Kill this claim I’m sending you.” As we talked my inbox started to ding. The first one had the claim, and when I opened it I saw that the case had been around for a while.
“Why are you switching counsel?” I said.
“Because his lawyers are beating the shit out of my lawyers.” She gave me a synopsis of the case, and it was bad. Her company had the legal equivalent of a tumor, and it was out of control.
“But why didn’t you come to me in the first place? You know this is the kind of case I like.” A savage fight to the death, with neither side having any thought of accommodation, let alone mercy. A case guaranteed to go to trial.
“You know how it works around here,” she said. She was the C.E.O., the big cheese, the head honcho, which made sense, because she was the founder, but her board was not composed of people like her. Her board was a chamber of second thought, of never taking chances. They respected their C.E.O for making them rich, but they feared that she would bring them all to ruin.
“So they made you hire a Big Downtown Firm?” Of course that’s what the board did. They hired a big downtown firm, and they had dry humped the file to death, big downtown firm style. The firm assigned a partner and an associate and a junior and a student and a clerk and they had met and talked and drafted but what they did most of all, is lose, and lose badly, every time they appeared in court.
“The board would have stuck with them too,” she continued, her voice edged with contempt, “but then something came up, and I saw that I had a chance to move the file.” What happened was that the Plaintiff had had a quarrel of some kind with his lawyers, big firm boys themselves. The Plaintiff fired them, and now he had no counsel.
“But what has that got to do with it?” I said. I wasn’t seeing the connection between the Plaintiff firing his lawyers and my getting the file.
“The board figures you can take it on, now that the man is unrepresented. They think you’re up to that, at least.” The board had more than a few MBAs, glib talkers of nonsense who hated me on sight, on instinct. MBAs see me as a wild gambler, and thus, a bad lawyer, unfit for anything but the simplest cases. The legal equivalent of a floor sweeper. “I’m going to charge double for the insult,” I said. It was a Friday afternoon, and I told her that I would get back to her in a few days. I canceled the rest of my appointments for the day, and started to read.
Normally my clients never get personal, not when it comes to litigation. My clients size things up, and although they might bluff every now and again, for the most part they fold when they know they should fold, and when they have a good hand they push it to the max.
But this file was different. For my client, this was personal. It was not about winning or losing, but about survival. The loss of this lawsuit would spell financial and career death for my client.
For the Plaintiff I had a feeling that the claim was personal as well, not about money. He hadn’t been damaged, not really, for my client’s attempt at his ruin had failed. But the way she had clawed at him was tortious, and gave him a free shot at her, and he was taking it, because he wanted revenge. I understood why he wanted revenge. If I’d been him, I’d have wanted revenge, too. My client and her opponent both sometimes walked on the shady side of the street, and the tactics my client had used were of the sort that get you sued, if not arrested. My client had come at him so hard and dirty that he’d had to borrow heavily, first from banks, and then from less conventional sources that charged very short interest and strict terms.
I read the file and re-read it and I read the searches, looking for something that might give me at least a leg to stand on, but the file was not giving me anything useful. It was a good read, though, filled with salacious facts. My client was no innocent, and neither was the plaintiff. They both did unsavoury things and had interests in things that had to be kept off the books and under the table.
The plaintiff wasn’t exactly mobbed up; more like a hanger-on. He knew enough never to claim that he was connected, because only an unconnected wannabe would ever say openly that he was connected, but he wanted people to think he was connected, and he had just enough of a faint connection that maybe, in a backhanded kind of way, he was the kind of guy who might pass for a being a bit connected. He owned a bunch of restaurants and he liked to hang out in the big one, near the airport, and there he held court, speaking dialect and wearing expensive suits, playing the part of a guy who maybe just maybe was a bit connected. No big city lacks a criminal underclass, with their signs and their argot and their customs, and for some gangs, speaking the home county dialect was a thing. The Plaintiff liked to show off his command of dialect.
When he’d fired his lawyers, my client's original firm had tried to talk to him. They’d emailed him and written to him, then written him registered, then they’d couriered him. They’d tried everything short of semaphores and smoke signals to get his attention, to get him to consider an offer they wanted to present to him. But the Plaintiff had ignored them. He had every right to; he was probably looking for new counsel, and didn’t want to speak to a lawyer on his own. But he was taking his sweet time; he’d fired his lawyers two weeks before, and yet he still had no counsel.
* * *
“Once I read the file, I saw that there was a path to a win, something that your lawyers missed.” This remark confused the board members. They turned to each other and exchanged puzzled looks. How could their favourite law firm have missed something? After all, Big Downtown Firm was huge, and therefore, infallible.
“They missed three simple facts. First: the Plaintiff liked to talk in the home dialect. Second, he was a little bit mobbed up, and third, and he was refusing to speak to your lawyers. Those three facts didn’t give me a win, but they did give me a shot.” So I told them about the shot that I took.
* * *
“You have to address me as ‘Boss’, today,” I said to the investigator when he arrived at my office Saturday afternoon. We sat at the small table I use for meetings.
“Why, Boss?” My investigator always did what I asked him, not always instantly, and not without questions, but he was a truly wonderful executor of orders. When I said do this or do that, he did it. Maybe it was because he trusted me about the law, about where I drew or erased the legal lines. But it probably also helped that I paid his invoices instantly, on sight and without question the moment he presented them.
“Because that’s what you’re calling me, at least for now. Boss, right? Or maybe even, ‘The Boss of Bosses’?”
“Ok, Boss,” he said. Most investigators are useless, but mine was a gem, and he loved working for me. He was a guy who thought outside of the box, a guy who was willing to try things, to take a few risks. A guy with a sense of mischief. A guy a bit like me. “So what’s up, ?” he said, grinning.
“You speak dialect, right?” I said, but only to confirm what I already knew.
“Raised with it,” he said. Then I spelled out the facts, summarizing my client’s problem, and then the Plaintiff’s habits, where he could be found, his love of the dialect of his parent’s home province, and his posing and his love of things mobbish.
“The Plaintiff will be at his place near the airport tonight.” It was Saturday, and that was the Plaintiff’s favorite night to hang out with his friends at his club, holding court and acting tough, talking gangspeak.
“I don’t get it,” the investigator said, “usually you want me to find people, but this time you know exactly where the guy is.”
“I don’t need you to find him. I just need you to talk to him, and when you talk to him, tell him to drop the case.”
The investigator laughed. “You think the guy’s gonna drop the case, just because you asked him?”
“Yes, I think he just might. I want you to send him a message, a message in his mother tongue, in dialect, so that there is no chance of a misunderstanding. My message is this, that your boss is willing to discontinue the action on a without costs basis, with prejudice, meaning that he can’t sue again, ever. That’s what I want you to say.”
“Legal English like that is kinda hard to translate into dialect,” the investigator said, “I might have to dumb it down a bit.”
“I figured as much. So tell him that the Boss is unhappy with this lawsuit, because there’s a bit too much dirty laundry that’s gonna come out if it keeps going. Tell him that the Boss is not angry with him, not yet at least, and that if he drops this thing fast, that the Boss will consider the matter closed. The Boss might even consider it a personal favour. But regardless, the Boss wants the action dropped, as in right now, and that the boss wants an answer right away.
“I’ll give him the message,” my investigator said, and that night he called me from the Plaintiff’s club.
“He wants to speak to you directly,” the investigator said. “I never talk on the phone to people I don’t know,” I said, getting into character, “what does he want to tell you.”
“He doesn’t want to tell you anything. He’s scared shitless, and wants you to tell him that everything’s ok.”
“Tell him everything’s ok, so long as the lawsuit’s gone by Monday.” On Monday the email hit my inbox before one p.m., and my bill, my very big bill, went out shortly thereafter, leading to my meeting at the client’s boardroom.
* * *
“But that’s sharp practice,” the company’s in-house counsel said after I told everyone what happened, omitting nothing, “you threatened the Plaintiff. You made him think a mobster would have him killed if he didn’t drop the action.”
“Nonsense. I sent a perfectly legal message, spoken in the Plaintiff’s mother tongue.”
“But you must have terrified him.” The in-counsel was a particularly poor specimen of his breed, a nail-biting bedwetter of a lawyer, a man who never wanted to sue anyone, would pay every claim, do anything possible to avoid a situation where he could be proved wrong in a court of law. The man was a dreadful coward, the kind of guy who was afraid, actually afraid, of the Law Society and toothless bites. He was so afraid that I was concerned that he might call them up to confess, or at least, to rat me out. I thought it best to deprogram him.
“I have an obligation to advance my client’s interests. I also have an obligation to explore settlement, to make offers, to do what I can to avoid disputes proceeding to trial unnecessarily. The Plaintiff would not accept letters or emails or phone calls, and at his discovery he at times pretended to have trouble with the English language. So I sent someone to speak to him, to send him a message in his own language.” That is what I had done, and when I looked at what I had done, I felt content. I would happily defend what I had done before any court of law, quoting my words exactly. My words in English were perfectly clear, and it was not my fault that the language in question was the argot of the criminal underworld. But mobspeak is what the Plaintiff spoke, so it was fair game to talk his language to him.
“So what you’re saying is you got lucky,” said in-house counsel. He’d worked downtown for a while, but got kicked out of serious firms because he was a man who turned a case to shit just by touching it.
“That tends to happen on my files,” I said.
“We’re not paying,” he said.
“Yes, we’re paying,” said the C.E.O. as she walked in to join us. In-house Counsel started to sputter, but she overrode him.
“And how dare you not tell me of this meeting,” she said to the rest of the board, dismissing them with a wave of her hand. The Chairman and in-house counsel rose, and so did the minions with their MBAs and the bean counters as well, and the board shuffled out of the room, leaving me and the C.E.O to chat.
“That’s what I get for needing money to expand,” she said, looking at their retreating backs through the boardroom’s glass walls, “a board that I only barely control, and not one of them has any balls. I have to throw them bones now and again, just to keep them off my back.”
“And I take it that you’re about to tell me that I’m a bone that you’re about to throw them? That you can’t pay my bill?” She smiled sympathetically.
“I’m making them pay. But they won’t be sending you another case.”
“Even though I saved you from a massive judgment, and findings of fact that would have damned you to hell and back on social media, and ruined your brand?”
“They say it’s too risky to give you work. That they don’t know what you’re going to do.”
“Except win. They left out the part where I win.”
“Sometimes I don’t think they’re looking to win,” the C.E.O said, “I think they’re just looking to play a role, the role of doing the right thing, of following the playbook, the same tired playbook.”
“You’re never followed anyone’s playbook,” I said. That’s why she was C.E.O.
“This one, I have to follow. I know you won’t mess up any cases we send you, but if you lose, or even don’t win big, I’ll get complaints and speeches and emails about how I should have sent the case to a big firm. It’s just not worth it.”
“So I’m a side piece, then?”
She smiled. “I wouldn’t put it that way, but yes.” She slid an envelope over the table with a big cheque inside for my fees. I put it in my pocket. I was not only a side piece, but a paid side piece, a legal prostitute called in for a quickie, only then to be discarded.
I showed the cheque to my partners. They were enthused. I’m not known for rainmaking, and they praised me for landing such a big client, but when I told them how the meeting had gone down, they were not surprised. It was the usual thing with me, déjà vous all over again.
“Do us a favour,” one of the partners said, a man I’ve known a long time, “the next time you win a big case, turn off your computer, turn off your phone, and go home for a few days. Let us do the clean up, ok? That way you won’t fuck everything up in the end.”

submitted by Calledinthe90s to Calledinthe90s [link] [comments]

2024.05.01 23:18 HopeGaming06 faith fic!

its been a while-
like a month
BUT HERES THE FIRST CHAPTER UEUEUUYEYYY
also tiffany x lisa stuff
Lisa squinted as the summer sun filled her eyes, closing her car door with a dull thud. At John’s invitation, she had come to check on the orphanage he had recently started(“Took a while, but it’s complete! Drop by anytime!”). He had mentioned the windows being coated with colorful plastic shapes and drawings that the children pasted on themselves. It must be pretty lively in there, she mused.
Yawning, she pinpointed its location immediately- its cheerful yellow walls stuck out like a sore thumb against the landscape, vividly contrasting the dreary gray of the neighborhood.
Lisa drew closer and knocked on the door thrice. There was the sound of children sprinting and shouting, followed by the door opening the tiniest bit and allowing her to view a sliver of the young face that answered. She frowned slightly, then plastered on a smile and squatted to meet the child’s eyes. “Hey there, do you know where John might be?”
The boy then gave her a suspicious look and clutched at his cross necklace. “Mommy said we shouldn’t open the door for strangers.” He paused. “Why are you looking for him?”
“My name’s Lisa,” She said, stifling a laugh. “Did, uh- Mommy ever mention me? He invited me here.”
His expression brightened at her name, but the door didn’t budge an inch as he continued to inspect her face. “...How do I know you’re the REAL Lisa?” The boy said, shooting her an accusing glare.
Before she could think of an answer, she heard another heavier pair of footsteps approaching, and the door suddenly opened wider to reveal a wrinkled face she recognized. “Father Garcia?” Lisa straightened up and shook his hand, noticing he was wearing a flowery pink apron. It clashes horribly with his outfit. “It’s good to see you! What are you doing here? Did John call you here as well?”
“Buenos dias, hija,” Father Garcia greeted her, ruffling the boy’s hair. “You can go back in now, hijo.” He said.
“Can I have a sweet?” The boy asked.
“You already had a lot today, no?” When he wilted, the older man chuckled. “Perhaps tomorrow, hijo.”
The boy ran back into the house, leaving room for Lisa to step into the building. Father Garcia moved toward what looked like the living room. “John’s out getting groceries, so I’m looking after the children. You can stay with us while you wait.”
Lisa obliged, stepping inside and closing the door with a faint click behind her. The building was modest, and the old furniture looked slightly worn down, yet the mood was unexpectedly warm and welcoming. Children were playing with toys, many of which she recognized from John’s younger years: the orange and gray toy truck, multicolored building blocks, and small figures made of plastic. The kids puppeted the yellow and red figures to make the tiny people fight over what seemed like a pink hostage, the battle being animated dramatically by the kids’ onomatopoeia.
“Make yourself at home,” Father Garcia grunted, tugging off the apron and hanging it on a row of hooks along the wall. “I’ll make us some coffee.”
Sitting down at the table, she soaked in the homely vibe the orphanage put out. It was warm and welcoming, even with the awkwardness of the children staring at the stranger. I’m guessing John never showed them what I looked like. The kids kept staring as she glanced around in a fruitless attempt to avoid attention.
After a few minutes, Father Garcia returned with two steaming mugs, a small jar, and two wooden spoons on an off-white tray.
“Sugar?” He asked. She shook her head and he shrugged, putting a few spoonfuls into his #1 Dad mug and stirring it lightly.
Lisa beamed. “You seem to be doing well,” she said. “This place is unrecognizable from the rat-infested dump it used to be.”
“You have no idea, hija.” He chuckled and took a sip. “John put everything he had into this little house, you’d think it was a treasure trove full of gold.”
Looks like his sentimentality got the better of him, Lisa thought, drinking from her mug as well. An unpleasant memory drifted into her thoughts, one of her and John growing up in an orphanage where Sister Bell had cared for them. The nun had hidden her true intentions skillfully, so it came as a nasty shock to the staff when the kids were led like lambs to the slaughter into the cornfield surrounding the church.
Lisa and John were the only ones who survived, albeit cursed with the vivid memory of it all. She felt a chill run up her spine, and she took another drink from her cup in an attempt to combat the cold. I’m sure he doesn’t want anyone to go through what we did ever again… and neither do I.
Father Garcia checked his watch. “He should be back by now,” he muttered.
At that moment there was the sound of footsteps joined by the jingling of keys, and the door opened to reveal a black-haired figure weighed down by several paper bags of groceries. Lisa tried to greet him but was quickly cut off by the stampede of children rushing towards the door, all of them ecstatic about the return of their ‘mother’.
“Mom! You’re back!”
“I’m hungry! What’s for dinner?”
“Did you buy any snacks? Vienna stole mine!”
“Did not!”
“Did too!”
John laughed and began weaving his way through the crowd of kids into the kitchen. Putting down the bags and washing his hands, he tried to soothe the mass of hungry kids. “Now, now, let’s all calm down, I’m not your moth- whoa!”
A boy Lisa recognized as the one who tried to interrogate her managed to jump into his arms, and he spun him around a few times before gently putting him down. “You promised we could call you that until you found us one!” The child chirped. “Adults have to keep their promises!”
“Welcome back, hijo.” Father Garcia said, smiling. “I have some errands I need to run, so I’ll be off.”
They shook hands, and the old priest closed the door behind him.
“John!”
He looked up. Upon seeing who it was, his face lit up in a grin. “Lisa!” John waded quickly through the crowd and they caught each other in a hug, laughing.
“This is quite the crowd you have here,” Lisa remarked. Then in what she thought was a whisper, “Quick question, why do they call you Mom? You don’t look particularly girlish.”
“Oh, that?” A girl from the crowd chortled. “It’s because every time Mommy sees a spider-”
John nervously laughed and cut her off, suddenly embarrassed. “Don’t- don’t worry about it,” He whispered. She raised her eyebrows, and John cleared his throat in an attempt to change the subject. “Everyone, could I please have your attention? I’d like to introduce you to someone!”
The kids quieted down and peered up curiously at the blonde stranger.
He gestured to Lisa. “This is Lisa Pearson, my childhood friend. You‘ll see her around if she decides to visit again, so please be nice!”
“She’s Lisa? She doesn’t look as pretty as I thought she was.”
“Shush, Mom is talking!”
“You shush!”
Lisa chuckled at their bickering. “I’m glad they’re honest at least,” She said, and John sighed.
He glanced at her. “...Would you like to tell them a bit about yourself?”
But the children had broken into chaos once more, the air being filled with shrieks of mirth and blotting out what she was about to say.
She couldn’t help but smile. “They are children, after all. Here, why don’t I help you make dinner instead?”
John returned her grin. “Please.”
***
It was a peaceful moment between the two, cooking together and chatting about their lives like nothing had happened.
“It must’ve taken some major renovation to make the place look so nice,” Lisa remarked. “The little ones seem to love it here.” She peeled the last slice off a potato and threw it into a pot, filled it with water, and scraped the loose peels into a separate bowl.
Taking the pot, John moved it to the stove. Turning on the heat, he answered, “Took me and Father Garcia a good part of the year, but eventually, it was deemed good enough to house children by the government.” He took a large raw chicken from the fridge and placed it on a cutting board, starting to skin it. “I didn’t think they would let me near kids after what happened last year.”
“They know you were innocent,” Lisa said indignantly, now chopping carrots. “There was no evidence you killed Amy Martin, or that you… did that to her face.” She shuddered at the thought. It was certainly a feat of the human mind that anyone could think John was capable of murder, let alone carving out a little girl’s face when he could barely handle clowns. Poor John. He must have been so miserable inside the mental ward. From what he had told her, it sounded like they were putting him through psychological torture.
“It’s all over now, though,” He said. “And the orphanage and the people it helps is worth it.”
She sighed and scraped the thinly chopped carrots into a salad bowl. “I hope none of the insanity from last time starts up again. Considering all we’ve experienced, I’d say that's enough bad luck to last three lifetimes.”
John laughed, bringing the lighthearted air back to their conversation. “You could say that again.”
They continued their chatter, with the kids playing loudly in the background. Eventually, a sumptuous roast chicken was removed from the oven, and a salad, now fully assembled, was dressed and tossed, and Lisa’s potatoes were ready to be mashed. Some of the children were allowed to crush the potatoes with forks, albeit with little efficiency, while John led Lisa to the living room table to take a break.
“You’ve certainly improved at cooking,” She observed as John brought her a glass of water. “The last time you tried to cook a pancake, a fire nearly burnt the whole kitchen to a crisp.”
A flush spread across his face. “Well, I was only nine… Though I will say that cooking at midnight without the sisters’ permission or supervision wasn’t very wise.”
“We both got in trouble for that, by the way,” Lisa said, giving him a playful nudge with her elbow. “I can’t believe I let you drag me into it.”
He opened his mouth to respond, but at that moment a loud clatter and a bloodcurdling wail came from the kitchen.
“Aah! No hitting each other with the silverware!” John called, worry coursing through his voice. John mouthed sorry to Lisa, and she heard his panicked shouts fade away in the distance as he rushed toward the noise.
She sighed, smiling fondly. “Can’t leave them alone, huh?” With nothing to do but to wait for dinner, Lisa’s eyes wandered, eventually landing on a conversation that some of the children who weren’t interested in the potato pandemonium were having.
“HE’S your role model?” A girl with blonde hair sneered, peeking at a drawing clutched in the hand of a boy dressed in a tremendous amount of black.
He immediately snatched it away from her, giving the snooping girl the stink-eye. He stretched himself taller, addressing her dramatically, “We vampire slayers have aspired to be more like my ancestor, Abraham Van Hellsing, since the dawn of time. I am certainly no different.”
The girl rolled her eyes. “I can’t believe we’re the same age. How long are you planning to keep leaning into your delusions, Jon-nerd-ah?”
“Whatever. If you’re gonna call my role model lame, then let me see yours.” And before she could react, Jonah nabbed the girl’s paper. After a few seconds, he wore the same sneer she did just a moment ago, albeit a deep scowl now replaced her expression. “Seriously? He’s such a scaredy-cat! You can’t make fun of the greatest vampire hunter in history if you look up to-”
“Give it back, jerkwad!” She hissed, her ears turning red. She grabbed at her paper and tugged hard. It strained back and forth between them until it tore violently in half, the ripped pieces falling to the floor. The teens stared as it glided smoothly and landed at Lisa’s feet.
She picked them up. It was a picture of what looked like John, now severed at the waist, each detail carefully sketched in blue pen. It was remarkably feminine, with big eyes that clipped out of the head and long, sparkly lashes that were partially detached from his eyes. His legs were significantly shorter than his torso, which was so skinny that it looked as if a corset was permanently wound around it.
“Oh, sorry…” Lisa mumbled as the blonde girl stomped up to her, clenching her jaw and flushing red. “Um, you’re a very good artist.” She must be self-conscious about her drawings.
She placed the paper halves into the girl’s hands and watched as she silently climbed the stairs. Jonah scoffed and went back to drawing, rolling his eyes.
Just then, John came out of the kitchen panting heavily, looking disheveled with two children under his arms. All three of them were covered in bits of potato, with the girl under his left arm wiping some off her tanned face and sticking it in her mouth with a dreamy expression. The boy under his right arm looked rather sour and was crossing his chubby arms in a tiny fit, though it didn’t stop him from eating the potato off his face as well.
“Dinner- dinner’s ready,” John wheezed, catching his breath. He took a towel from his apron pocket and wiped the potato off the children’s faces, then his own. “Jonah, please call everyone to the dining room.”
The boy smothered in black dramatically sighed and went upstairs. John then gestured for Lisa to follow him, hanging his apron back on a hook on the wall.
After a little more wrangling, everyone sat around the dining table and John led them in a short prayer, letting everyone eat. The air was soon filled with the banter of children.
“Sally, look, Jonah is cutting his chicken into a funny circle!” A girl with curly ginger hair exclaimed, shoving a dripping piece of tomato and onion into her mouth.
The black-haired girl next to her wrinkled her nose. “Sarah, dummy, don’t chew with your mouth open. It’s gross.” Turning to Jonah, she peered at his plate. “So childish. Didn’t Mom ever teach you to not play with your food?” He pushed her face away with his hand, eyes still focused on his spectacularly butchered chicken.
“Mommy, can I have some more orange juice?” A pudgy-looking boy squeaked, holding out his empty glass.
“Of course!” John filled it halfway and smiled. “By the way, Tommy, have you seen Mina at all? She hasn’t come down for dinner.” His face crinkled in worry. “I hope she didn’t get herself into trouble again.”
“I think she’s still upstairs,” A pale boy with white hair said, spooning himself some mashed potatoes. “I saw her walk past when I was watching over the baby. She was pretty red, I think Jonah might’ve said something.”
Jonah let out a loud humph. “First of all, commoner, my name shan’t be slandered this way. My full title is Ulysses Van He-” The girl named Sally glared at him and pinched his cheek, causing him to yowl.
“Stop that!” He squawked indignantly, batting her hand away.
“We don’t care about your daydreams, schizophrenic.”
John sighed. “Children, please, not at the dinner table… I’ll go find Mina. Please stay behaved, you all.” He shot Lisa a pleading look and she gave him a small thumbs-up.
A child sitting next to her with short pigtails tapped her arm, hazel eyes wide. “Are you Mommy’s girlfriend?”
Lisa laughed. “No, but I knew him when we were children. He mentioned it in my introduction, didn’t he?”
The girl murmured a quiet ohhh and turned back to her food. Lisa then watched as she tried unsuccessfully to feed the baby in the hi-chair some lettuce, only to have a glob of mushed apple thrown in her face instead. The girl wiped it off, giving it the stink eye and throwing some of the mush right back. It landed on the baby’s bib, and it blew a raspberry at her. Lisa had to stuff her mouth with chicken to stifle her laughter.
Fortunately, other than the oddly sassy baby, the children took heed of their mother’s words this time and stayed relatively calm long enough for John to come back, unfortunately alone.
“She’s a little upset,” John whispered to Lisa. “I’ll save her some food for when she’s hungry.”
The dinner wrapped up in a surprisingly orderly manner as the kids piled their plates up next to the sink, some of them making off with a small candy from a basket Father Garcia had left behind. Most of them ran back into the playroom to play, while John picked up the baby and rocked him.
“There’s a place I wanted to show you but never got the chance to,” He said. “I have to put the baby to sleep, so I could ask one of the older children to lead you if you have time.”
Lisa nodded. “Of course.”
He smiled, then beckoned over a boy taller than him with curly brown locks. “Liam, if you could show Lisa the backyard…”
They spoke quietly to each other, and eventually, John went upstairs, leaving Lisa with the teen. “Follow me please, and watch your step,” Liam said, opening the backdoor to the house. It was raining lightly. He grabbed two umbrellas from the basket next to the frame, handing one to her and opening his outside. A winding stone path led from the door, glossy with water and lined with wooden fences holding back lush greenery. It had an ethereal beauty to it that Lisa couldn’t quite put her finger on, as if it were a portal leading to an undiscovered utopia.
They followed along past small ponds filled with algae and the occasional frog resting on a lily pad. She drank in the scent of the outdoors she’d missed from her childhood, sighing and closing her eyes. I didn’t realize how much I needed this. Lisa breathed, grinning. “Thank you.”
Liam returned her smile. “Don’t mention it.”
After a bit more walking, they reached a clearing framed with a clumsily built wooden arch, propped up with strings firmly tied to pegs in the ground. Inside was a garden with a gigantic pine tree in the center, the space around it filled with rows and rows of plants neatly separated by their types.
There were small paper tabs stuck into the soil labeling each one, all in different colors. Lisa bent down to read one under a scrawny stalk bearing small green bulbs, squinting at the smudged red marker. The tab read: Stawberys!!! And in neater handwriting under it: Planted 3/1/88 by Tommy Weissman.
It’s the end of June right now. “That was almost four months ago.” She stood up. “I never knew they took so long to grow.”
“They don’t,” Liam said, approaching the plant and cupping one of the berries in his palm. He gazed at it sadly and dropped it, sighing. “I’ve been taking care of the garden most of the time, and it’s been like this for a while now.” He said. “All of the plants have. None of us were able to figure out what’s happening, and neither has Father Garcia or John.”
“How awful,” Lisa said, frowning. “Is there any way I could…”
But there was something she could do. Or rather, something a certain someone else could do, someone she knew very well.
She pondered for a moment. “Would it be alright if I brought my friend Tiffany over to the orphanage sometime?” She asked. “It’s been a while, but she did earn a bachelor’s degree in plant biology. She’ll know something.”
He blinked. “Sure, I’ll ask John and see if he agrees.”
After looking around for a bit further, the two left the withering paradise for the orphanage. The rain had stopped during their short trip outside, and Liam took Lisa’s umbrella. John was nowhere to be seen.
“Well, I should head home,” Lisa said, navigating through the children playing on the floor. “Please tell John I’ll be visiting again soon and to consider my offer.” She shook Liam’s hand, then made toward the door.
“WAIT!!” The girl with pigtails from dinner came bounding towards Lisa, wearing a toothy grin. “I drew you something!” She squealed and showed her a piece of paper. It was a crayon drawing of a flower field with a rainbow in the back, the sky illuminated by a yellow sun in the corner. “You can have it if you want.”
Lisa took it and smiled fondly, patting the girl’s head. “Thank you so much! I’ll be sure to keep it safe.”
“Bye-bye!” The girl shouted from the front door as Lisa waved from her car window. She watched as she quickly scurried back inside, and with a final wave from Liam, the door closed.
As soon as she was sure she was alone, Lisa leaned back in her seat, sighing.
Children are cute, but they sure can be a fuckin’ handful.
***
It was dark outside when Lisa finally arrived home. She opened the door, and it creaked open to reveal a messy living room with moving boxes strewn everywhere and some clothes abandoned carelessly around the place. The few pieces of furniture that were set up were covered in a thin layer of dust from lack of use, other than the couch that sat across from the TV. It looks like Tiffany hasn’t finished moving her stuff in yet.
Lisa had asked Tiffany to move in with her, not wanting her to be stuck back at the apartment complex after what happened with the cult. She tried to help her with the boxes she had brought, but Tiffany refused to let her touch them, adamant that she put them away herself. As it had taken several months to convince her to stay, Lisa decided not to push it.
But now the boxes seemed to be completely abandoned in favor of several papers, many of them filled with messy lettering. Tiffany scrutinized them heavily, the sheets mere inches from her eyes as she bent over and scribbled illegible words on them. She was so focused on them that she never noticed Lisa enter the house, only reacting once she cleared her throat heavily.
“You’re back!” Tiffany said cheerfully, shambling forward to greet Lisa. Her eyes were weighed down with faint bags of fatigue that stained her usual doll-like complexion.
I wonder what’s got her so preoccupied.
“Where have you been?” She said. “You’ve never been out for longer than an hour if you could help it.”
“John invited me,” Lisa yawned, giving her a quick hug and collapsing onto the sofa. “He runs an orphanage.”
“Oh?” Tiffany returned to her papers. “Tell me about it.”
She ended up talking over the soap opera starting to air on TV, while Tiffany responded to everything with an occasional hum or a short laugh. She’s trying to sound interested, but her eyes aren’t leaving the papers. Curious, Lisa leaned in close to peek at them.
Tiffany sat up from her curled-up position at the same time, and their heads ended up colliding in a painful thunk. Lisa yelped, while Tiffany barely flinched.
“Oh… Sorry,” She mumbled, picking up an empty mug and shuffling toward the kitchen. “By the way, are you hungry? I can whip something up for you before I go back to work.”
Lisa shook her head. “I had dinner there, remember?”
“Ah. Right.” She closed them and headed for the water kettle. “Alright. More coffee for me, then.”
“Coffee?” Lisa blanched. “Tiff, it’s almost 8-”
“I know, I know.” Tiffany laughed dryly. “Can’t be helped, though. I can’t sleep until I get a job.” Her laughter fizzled off into a melancholy sigh. “I’ve been denied by all of the ones I’ve applied to. Not even a week of consideration, just an immediate letter of rejection.”
Lisa tilted her head. “How long have you been sending applications to these companies?”
Tiffany was suddenly very interested in watching the water boil.
“You can tell me,” She said, laughing nervously.
After a long pause, Tiffany waved her hand as if clearing the air. “I-it doesn’t matter. It’ll happen eventually.” She showed her a wobbly attempt at a smile. “Just a matter of time. Oh, don’t look at me like that,” She said sadly as her friend gave her an unconvinced look, “It just takes a while to find the right one.”
Lisa thought for a moment. “I’ll stay up with you then, at the very least. Someone’s gotta make sure you take care of yourself.”
“Eh?” Tiffany flinched. “Absolutely not. By the time I finish filling out all the forms, it might already be dawn.” She fidgeted. “I might not finish at all.”
“Then I could help you fill out the applications,” Lisa said, standing up from the couch and stretching. “I know I’m no good with persuasive writing, but I don’t want you passing out in the middle of the day tomorrow because of this.”
“But your paintings-”
“They can wait.”
“If you have plans tomorrow-“
“I’m free all day.”
“Your sleep schedule…” Tiffany mumbled, her hands gripping the mug tightly.
Lisa firmly shook her head. “I’m telling you, it’s fine. It’s not as bad as you think it is. And if it’s this important to you, then it is to me as well.”
Tiffany gave her a look of concern. “...You don’t have to do this.”
“I know,” Lisa said, smiling. “But I want to.”

submitted by HopeGaming06 to FaithTheUnholyTrinity [link] [comments]

2024.05.01 17:21 flipinchicago I accidentally went to a lesbian speed-dating event

Lol, I'm so dumb.
So there's a group in my city (Chicago) called Hot Potato Hearts-- they throw events for the queer and/or polyamorous community. Having never went to their events before, I read their bio, saw that they were having a "speed dating event" and just assumed it was for me... a grave error, one of many.
So I go to the event that was happening at a bar and immediately approach a group of people mixed-gendered people. I start with "Hey, I'm [name], nice to meet you all. Are you here for the queer poly speed dating event?"-- they look at me in shock and reply, "No, we're here for [person's] birthday. They just got promoted to Sergeant. I think you want to be on that side."-- they point over to the other side of the bar. I awkwardly shuffle away. The military dudes give me a weird look. Lol.
On the other side of the bar, I see a bunch of people all talking to each other. They definitely have the look-- lots of different colored hair, androgynous fashion, and 5 minutes later-- they announce: "Thanks for coming to the Hot Potato Hearts Lesbian Speed Dating event!" ... I'm like, uhhh, oops. We all get a name card. After the announcement, I talk to the announcer and I ask "Should I be here? I'm not a lesbian, I'm a gay man." She says, "It's up to you-- some people just come to make friends." So I decide to stay.
Some highlights from the 20 people I talked to over two hours:

Lots of these queers/lesbians are super into Jane Austin
About 25% of my conversations drifted into, "how many cats do you have" territory. Sadly, I have none.
Less people were interested in rock-climbing than I thought (I'm a stereotypical poly/gay person into bouldering)
Most of the people were super laid back and cool with me, a gay man, being there-- the only one was a weirdly resentful lesbian who said that "people like me (poly? gay men? rock-climbers?) were taking away all the good lesbians!" lol

At the end of the night, on the back of your name card, they say, "write down the names of people you want to follow up with and if they also write your name, we'll email you both their contact information." (Personal thought: maybe it's different in gay male world, but wouldn't I just ask for their info right then and there?) Following the rules, I write down two women who I thought were actually cool then the next morning, I get an email with both their contact info-- they wrote me down, too! A week later, I get drinks with them separately and chat. Both friendships kind of fizzle after that, but c'est la vie.
In closing:

Actually read the details of the events you're going to and
Just have fun with it! It doesn't have to be so serious all the time

submitted by flipinchicago to AskGaybrosOver30 [link] [comments]

2024.05.01 17:14 flipinchicago Me (a gay man) accidentally went to a lesbian speed dating event

Just a fun post on the ups and downs of living my queer poly life.
So there's a group in my city (Chicago) called Hot Potato Hearts-- they throw events for the queer and/or polyamorous community. Having never went to their events before, I read their bio, saw that they were having a "speed dating event" and just assumed it was queer and poly... a grave error, one of many.
So I go to event, it was happening at a bar, I go up to a group of people mixed-gendered people. I start with "Hey, I'm [name], nice to meet you all. Are you here for the poly speed dating event?"-- they look at me in shock and reply, "No, we're here for [person's] birthday. They just got promoted to Sergeant. I think you want to be on that side."-- they point over to the other side of the bar. I awkwardly shuffle away. The military dudes give me a weird look. Lol.
On the other side of the bar, I see a bunch of people all talking to each other. They definitely give me a queer poly vibe-- lots of different colored hair, androgynous fashion, and 5 minutes later-- they announce: "Thanks for coming to the Hot Potato Hearts Lesbian Speed Dating event!" ... I'm like, uhhh, oops. We all get a name card. After the announcement, I talk to the announcer and I ask "Should I be here? I'm not a lesbian, I'm a gay man." She says, "It's up to you-- some people just come to make friends." So I decide to stay.
Some highlights from the 20 people I talked to over two hours:

Lots of these queers/lesbians are super into Jane Austin
About 25% of my conversations drifted into, "how many cats do you have" territory. Sadly, I have none.
Less people were interested in rock-climbing than I thought (I'm a stereotypical poly/gay person into bouldering)
Most of the people were super laid back and cool with me, a gay man, being there-- the only one was a weirdly resentful lesbian who said that "poly people were taking away all the good lesbians!" lol

At the end of the night, on the back of your name card, they say, "write down and names of people you want to follow up with and they also write your name, we'll email you both their contact information." (Personal thought: maybe it's different in gay male world, but wouldn't I just ask for their info right then and there?) Following the rules, I write down two women who I thought were actually cool and then the next morning, I get an email with both their contact info-- they wrote me down, too! A week later, I get drinks with them separately and chat. Both friendships kind of fizzle after that, but c'est la vie.
In closing:

Actually read the details of the events you're going to and
Just have fun with it! It doesn't have to be so serious all the time

submitted by flipinchicago to polyamory [link] [comments]

2024.05.01 09:49 Zestyclose_Mouse_771 How do you know when your relationship (me F50, him M53) is beyond repair?

Posting for a friend who has tried to post several times but keeps getting no responses. She will monitor
TLDR: He has caused so much damage, I don't know how to get past it
This is long, but it's as short as I can make it. The following is very abbreviated.
I've been with my husband for 10 years.
Two years ago he was diagnosed with ADHD - specifically ADD. He didn't tell me until recently but we've talked about it in the past as a possibility. This diagnosis is relevant for my question and I'll get to it again at the end.
We have a long and - for me - harrowing history
I have so much resentment and carry around so much emotional trauma that sometimes I can barely breathe.
We've stayed together after some horrid times, because our circumstances require it for now (we cannot sell our house as it's mid renovation and not compliant; neither can afford to buy the other out etc).
Right now, we're in a holding pattern. He insists he'll do anything to save our marriage. He understands that I'm on the edge of leaving and probably would have left without looking back if it wasn't for our constraints.
Our history is essentially a decade of him lying, betraying me, cheating, and behaving in ridiculously unstable ways. He's also a terrible communicator - the ADHD diagnosis sheds some light on this for me. I experience him as a taker not a giver, he would argue that's not his nature, he just forgets things.
Our history is also an incredible connection, many things in common, lots of happy times and laughs, deep passion and intimacy.
Examples of above betrayals etc:
When we got together he had no $ to move on after divorce. I rented a flat, set up a spare room for his kids to come and stay, made it possible for us to start our life.
During this time he maintained a friendship that included flirtation, some light intimacy and some sexting. My spidey senses told me he wasn't being truthful about that friendship but he fully gasligted me about it.
I eventually found proof. He had no real explanation / kept minimising the issue, after about a year he finally acknowledged he came out of his divorce needing to be free, didn't expect to meet me, and was having his cake and eating it too, until caught.
This all happened just after we'd finally signed a lease on an apartment together, to make it possible for him to have his kids 50/50. I felt completely trapped.
I stayed.
Over the following years he lied constantly about big and small things. He's now faced that behaviour and understood it as a habit (like a teenager), and grown himself out of it.
Whenever I stood up for myself - which was always as I'm not a pushover - it would end up in huge arguments. Lots of gaslighting by him, mostly because he had zero self awareness of his behaviour and habits and it has been a LONG and arduous journey growing him up.
Standing up for myself, big arguments etc would only magnify his behaviour.
For a couple of years he faked panic attacks. Including throwing himself down our stairs 4-5 times. Including an 8 hour fake attack where he worked himself up to almost hyperventilating and choking, and I had to shove a pen in his throat to stop him. I did this on a few different occasions actually. The 8 hour one, his kids were here. He was on our bedroom floor after throwing himself off our bed, and I was going in and out, looking after the kids, telling them dad was unwell and resting; and looking after him / trying to contain the situation. He had therapy, the therapist confirmed his behaviour was an attempt to manipulate me and that his panic attacks weren't real.
He's threatened to unalive himself dozens of times. He's fake cut his wrists dozens of times. I've had to wrestle knives off him a few times and he's truly wrestled me, could have seriously hurt me etc. He's driven off in the car while drinking alcohol / taking alcohol with him. He's taken an overdose of pills while chatting to mates online. This was all out of my earshot, but then one of the mates turned up at the house worried about him. I ended up taking him to emergency and he was admitted to a psych ward for a week. The day after he came out was Christmas Day and "we" were hosting lunch for 11 people. I spent the day trying to hide his incredibly fragile state from all his family, and kids, so as not to ruin the day - and because none of them would have handled it with any grace.
I've had the police at the house a few times, once when he was drunk and called a mate, saying he was going to un alive himself because I was leaving him. Again his kids were here and I had to shuffle the police to a dark corner outside and get them to leave, to protect his kids from the chaos. They drove him off in the police car, put him in the lock up for the night, and fortunately he got home before the kids woke up.
He copied extensive amounts of texts between him and I - texts where I was VERY angry and hostile, and had plenty of harsh / attacking things to say - he emailed those texts to a former best friend of mine who works in couples therapy. A friend I've had no contact with for 15 years, a friendship I quietly quit due to her disregard of me, a woman he's never met, only heard about. Who the fuck does something like that?! He sent the same texts to his therapist, his mother, and a woman who I don't know, apparently a former therapist his friend, seeking validation that I'm the problem and he's the victim.
He went for drinks - I don't know how many times - with the same former therapist woman friend, and her male friends and told them all about how unfair I was.
6mths after we got married he joined a sex site, went into chat rooms and over time sent messages to a dozen or so women. Not foul, crude messages, but suggestive and flirty. I caught him out in this 2yrs after our wedding, so he'd been in and out of the site for 18mths. He insists he only ever contacted the women in the hope of talking as he was lonely. He also insists he only went into the site when it seemed like our relationship was over. He has never shown a clear understanding that his story doesn't pass the reasonable person test, that it's not plausible and most reasonable people would call bullsh**, given the content of his messages to the women.
When I found out about the sex site I ended our marriage. But we've remained in the same house since, for the reasons I explained above (renovation, stuck).
During this period of separation, months now, he has become a "mostly" very different man. It's clear he's working very hard on himself and he has a lot of clarity about his past behaviour.
He's made it clear he wants to save our marriage, whatever it takes.
In this period of separation he has also - while we were in a tropical holiday together and really starting to reconnect , but following a setback in that connection - taken himself off for an erotic massage. I didn't know that at the time, we got past the setback, we were intimate on this amazing holiday - 2 days after the massage that I had no idea about.
Two weeks after we got back from the holiday, he wrote to the former therapist / friend - in the period of separation where he was still begging me to give our marriage another chance and see how much he was trying - and said he'd booked a session with a prostitute. They encouraged him to go, and said why not, fuck her (meaning me). He insists he never went. I'll never know.
The things he has done are outrageous, toxic, unstable, frightening, harmful.
But for reasons I can't explain, I also know they are not HIM. Someone here will know what I mean by that. I just don't have the words to explain it.
I don't know how someone's behaviour can be so disconnected from their soul but that's how I would describe him and his choices over the last decade. A complete disconnect between his intentions and his actions. A complete disconnect between who he is, who he believes he is, who he presents as when life is easy and normal. Anything challenging though, he falls apart and records to easy gratification, quick attention, lack of impulse control etc. Just bad, stupid behaviours and choices that have done untold damage. This from a grown man, who is widely viewed as the most peaceful, non-aggreasive, reasonable, easy going, guy, who runs a successful business, is loved by all of his customers for his gentleness etc.
He's been on a BIG personal journey and is very clearly a different man now. On one level I don't believe he'd ever do any of those things again. He's had extensive counselling. He's been very honest with himself. He's been very honest with me. He's taken full accountability. He has no expectations of me at all but consistently shows and tells me that he wants to do whatever it takes to heal our marriage.
All his devices, all his socials, emails, phone etc are an open book. I have all his passwords etc. I could go on, but you get the gist.
We are navigating the possibility of staying together, sometimes we date, sometimes we're intimate, it's 100% on my schedule. It's very up and down.
I've been clear with him that I have no grace left to give him. That the last decade has been traumatic for me and I'm triggered by everything, all the time.
He understands that my #1 priority is my own emotional and mental wellbeing, and that an enormous amount of damage has been done to both.
For more context, during all this time, his children caused tension between households, almost like a sport. Their mother is bipolar, very controlling and has huge swings. She has so told some devastating lies about me, our household etc. The children have lied to her about us many times, to avoid getting in trouble with her. As an example, they didn't call her one birthday. They told her - on speaker phone, in earshot of us - that we wouldn't let them have their phones. She then proceeded to call us every disgusting, foul things under the sun. This kind of thing happened all the time, every single week for a years. There is more, much much worse, but I don't feel comfortable sharing it.
Things I've observed in him - absolute lack of impulse control, very fragile ego needing constant validation, reaching for the closest thing to soothe himself when he has big feelings eg substances, attention from women. Total emotional dysregulation.
Any time I tried to discuss these things with him he took them as an attack. Nowadays he sees it all himself, especially through the lens of understanding his ADHD.
He's been in and out of therapy for years. Mostly useless, because his stories to the therapists are always very self-serving. He painted himself as the victim (of my anger at his behaviour) many times.
And so, with all of that, my challenge is - nowadays even when it's clear his ADHD is at play, and impacting his behaviour, communication etc - I have zero tolerance or patience.
It means I can't support him through his struggles because I stayed through all the trauma and it feels like I have nothing left to give him.
I'm here for happiness between us, but anything that resembles him being thoughtless, careless, mean etc - even if explainable by the ADHD - is a massive trigger for me. I run out of patience in seconds.
How do I move forward? What does it take to heal from this kind of decade? How do you heal a marriage from the worst things?

submitted by Zestyclose_Mouse_771 to Marriage [link] [comments]

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