Christmas dessert table ideas pinterest
The Baking sub-reddit
2009.04.21 17:25 windmilltheory The Baking sub-reddit
For all your baking needs! Recipes, ideas and all things baking related. Cakes, cookies, pies, tarts, muffins, scones, short- rye- wheat- and naan breads welcome!
2023.05.28 23:56 hopmonger Should I glue outdoor patio table?
Got a couple nice leftover 8ft 1x4 tongue and groove Ipe hardwood floorboards for really cheap. Was thinking of making an outdoor coffee table with them. Wondering if gluing them would be a bad idea since it will be exposed to the elements(contraction/expansion with weathesun). Thoughts? To glue or not to glue?
submitted by hopmonger to BeginnerWoodWorking [link] [comments]
2023.05.28 23:55 Bateman_Not_Batman #how to get ahead in ai.dvertising [SP]
The Future is Officially Canceled.
Dee had read articles like this before. He couldn’t remember if the future had ever been officially canceled. But it had been canceled. Unofficially, perhaps. Hence the need to do it officially.
He skimmed the first few paragraphs …the slow cancellation of the future… …pop culture is eating itself… …imitators are imitating an imitation… The ‘slow cancellation’ theory was first flung around in the early twenty first century, on the hypothesis that if you played 1970s music to someone in the 1950s, it would blow their freaking mind. And if you played music from the 1990s to someone in the 1970s, their mind would be equally blown. But if you played music from the ‘10s to someone in the 1990s it wouldn’t be that much of a stretch. In fact, that person may even think they had heard some of it before. The same thing with music from the ‘30s to someone in the ‘10s or music from now to someone in the ‘30s. That person might conceivably think they were even listening to music from a previous decade. Pop culture had referenced itself so many times over, it was now just a copy of a copy of a copy. Degrading every time.
Dee looked down at the article's credit, Dennis Bagley, Editorial AI Operator. He knew it, AI. No wonder it read so familiar. He looked up at the various awards on his top shelf. Dee knew he was different. Better. His AI operating skills were the thing of accolades. The thing of applause. Just last week he and his AI processor picked up Gold in Effectology for their Just Poo It campaign for Charmin. And Silver in Originology for their The Ketchup In The Rye commercial for Pepsi-Heinz, about a young guy who gets kicked out of school and stays out all night trying to find a bottle of ketchup. He looked down at his processor and beamed. Its glowing red light beamed back at him.
They didn’t just stumble into that kind of effectiveness. Campaigns didn’t even get greenlit unless they scored ninety or above on the Effectology meter. He and his AI were usually hitting ninety twos or ninety threes, even a ninety five for Here’s To The Lazy Ones for Caspar mattresses. That campaign killed.
But Dee held himself to that higher calling, Originology. The metrics of original ideas. Sure, the AI did most of the work but Dee was able to tweak his processor to go way beyond the requisite twenty five percent Originology score. Together they were nailing figures in the forties, sometimes even peaking into the fifties. Scores that were head and shoulders above the rest of the department.
That’s how he could afford the sweet ‘18 Jordans Reissues on his feet. He curled his luxe Loewe headphone cable through his fingers and wrapped it around his neck like a scarf. He scoffed at a time when people didn’t think they needed a headphone cable. And imagined having nothing to twirl while listening to reinterpreted rock, nothing to wind around his fingers while he fed the processor. How many headphones must have been lost forever, just because they weren’t plugged in? Like everything else in pop culture, what went around came around, and, relatively recently, headphone cables had come back hard as the status symbol. Today, you didn’t just have to have a cable to be considered cool, you had to have the cable. It had to be thick as a rope, plated with rare metals, and covered in a fancy leather sheath from a chic brand like Gucci or Loewe.
Dee beamed as he thought of all the cool historical cultural knowledge he had amassed. Not just advertising history like the dweebs in the cubicles around him, but film history, fashion history, art history, music history. If it happened in culture, he knew about it. And he used it. That’s how he scored so high on the Originology meter. It made him feel almost like a real writer. Though he would never say that out loud. He imagined being like the old timers, upstairs. The un.ai.ded human writers, that clients would pay a serious premium for. Then he wouldn’t have to work on ketchup and toilet roll. He could have a crack at the big dogs, like Googlesoft, United American Airlines or DoritosLocosTacoBell. For now though, he’d have to stick with clients more becoming of his position. This morning’s task was to create a campaign for Pepsi-Crest. A toothpaste. Not super interesting. But he knew how to spice it up. Instead of letting his AI go back through decades of toothpaste ads just to pump out tired old crap like the It Cleans Your Face While it Cleans Your Teeth campaign that Mike Bey pitched last week, Dee mixed in a little fast food inspo from one of his favorite eras and found himself at the highly original and equally effective Where’s the Teeth? campaign. He was stunned by his own brilliance. He patted his processor and imagined it congratulating him back, then he programmed it to write an epic fifteen second anthem film and a suite of six second pre-roll spots, then sent it off to the CG department to render in time to air that night. Dee’s colleagues often asked him how he and his processor were so good at what they did. How their campaigns always scored so highly in both Effectology and Originology. They all used the same machine learning. It’s what the agency sold itself on. Never wanting to sound aloof; even though he was, or like he was tooting his own horn; even though he often did, he would merely say, “I like to pepper a bit of non advertising data in there. A little hint of me.” It was enough to provoke gasps and even make his colleagues take a step back or two, they had all been programmed to do just one task, feed the machine with advertising data. They couldn’t fathom diverging. “The AI should be enough,” was the general understanding. “The machine has better knowledge of advertising history than we do,” and “knows the ins and outs of Effectology better than we ever could.” It’s even been “scientifically programmed to exceed all expectation of Originology.” Dee couldn’t be swayed by any of the standard reactions. He would just smile, and casually amble off. Knowing full well he was beating the machine. He was a rebel in his own right. That afternoon, his section boss leaned over his cubicle. “Hullo Tara.” “Keep it formal please, colleague,” she scolded, “call me Antino. What do you look so ruddy chuffed about anyway?” “I just came up with a brilliant campaign for a very dull toothpaste. You’ll see it on The Comedy Central Reruns Channel tonight.” “Yes, well, an upstairs project is running behind and they’re calling on us down here to pull together some inspo decks, help jostle something loose in those tired old brains.” “Wouldn’t that make them not human-made? What are their clients paying all that money for?” “Loopholes, colleague, loopholes. As long as one of them humans writes the final line, it doesn’t matter how much AI they used to get there. “ “I could do that. I could do better than that. Did I tell you about my toothpaste campaign?” “Yes you did. Twice now. Must be good.” “It is.” “Well, here’s your chance for a peek into the real writer life. I’m deprioritizing your regular workload and prioritizing this inspo creation.” “Yeahhh!” Dee punched the air and freeze framed like he saw in an old movie. “The brief is for Fiat Maserati Jeep Dodge RAM. It’s a car. The Fiat Maserati Jeep Dodge RAM Unica. Like a fancy off-roader, you know what I mean? They wanna sell it to people in cities who don’t drive. More of a status symbol, you know what I mean? Like park it in front of your house so people will know you could go off-roading if you wanted to. Audience archetype is Moms. You getting this?” Dee finally broke his freeze frame but his mind was already whirring. “Yeah, I got it.” “Alright then. Bon chance.” Dee jumped into action, flipped up his AI processor’s screen and started cross referencing old Land Rover ads with The Rock movies, some Nora Ephron classics, Michelle Rodriguez’s character from all twenty eight Fast & Furious movies; even the fully CGI’d ones, the scene from Mrs Doubtfire when she’s playing the broomstick like a guitar, some Bikini Kill records, a memory of his own Mom making him wait in the car while she went shopping at Bergdorfs, a bunch of cool off-roading stuff from Top Gear and a painting of a car he’d always loved by Robert Bechtle. The machine spat out fifteen possible campaign inspo starters and Dee ran-walked them to the inspo courier in the office atrium. Before the day ended, a synthetic orchestra sounded through the building, \Pah pahhh, pah pa pah pa pah pahhh** and the employees were called into the atrium. Office meeting. As Dee strolled in, he caught the rare sight of the last few human copywriters lined up around the balcony above them. They applauded the downstairs employees, theatrically, motioning with their claps as they walked in and took seats, stood awkwardly or otherwise congregated.
There was a dramatic hush before one of the last true human copywriters finally spoke. “Great inspo. Thanks.” Wow. Each word, each letter, worth its weight in gold. That's probably why they used so few, thought Dee. “Yeah, really really good stuff.” Said another. “AI did this?” Said a third as she held the sheets of inspo out. “Some of the best inspo I’ve ever seen in all of my career.” Coughed the oldest and most regal sounding.
Dee squinted and peered up at them. Was that his inspo deck they were flashing around? Was this whole elaborate ceremony all to celebrate his AI operating? He didn’t know whether to be chuffed or anxious. Did they know he was cheating the system? Did they care? These are some of the last true human copywriters in history. They have, and are encouraged to have, the unique thought. Their work isn’t judged on how similar-without-being-exactly-the-same it is to existing campaigns. It’s judged on how different, how breakthrough, how stand out it is.
“It was me!” Dee blurted out. Quite uncharacteristically. He was usually so cool with the compliments. So coy with the recognition. His whole angle required it.
The other AI operators standing around him took their requisite step back, though this time it was less in awe, more in disgust. The air in the room stiffened. AI had ruled his department, and most of the industry, for so long that people didn’t speak up anymore. They just quietly fed the machine. And the machine took all the glory. Dee felt instant ostracism from the colleagues he had worked alongside for most of his career. He immediately questioned his outburst and retracted his ownership claim, knowing that his inspo deck would have been one of many.
“Some of it, at least. My AI, I mean. Processor.” He said. Sheepish this time. Back in his place.
The last few human copywriters smiled, nodded, bowed, gave final congratulations to all from high up on their balcony and then shuffled away in single file. All but one, Sir Coughing-Most-Regal. He slowly made his way down the grand staircase, into the atrium. A man leaving behind his usual pomp and circumstance, bringing his rare ability of unique thought into a crowd of imitation suppliers. As he reached the bottom step, he lost all of his royal air and seemed suddenly so vulnerable, walking among the regular folk. Most of Dee’s colleagues had already left, gone back to their metal masters, but Dee stayed. He knew this old man was coming to see him. He thought he might be in for a dressing down but he hoped it would be the opposite. He manifested that this titan of singular thought, the rare, unique idea, was coming to congratulate him.
“Freedkin.” The old man shoved out his hand. “Pleasure.” Dee shook it. “You say you programmed this inspo deck, yes?” He flapped the pages around. “Yes.” “Ruddy good work, let me tell you.” “Thank you.” “In all my years, since this artificial thinking thing came in, I’ve never read anything so good. Inspired me all over. I’ve been positively bursting with ideas since.” “Thank… you.” “AI wrote this you say?” “Yes.” “Ruddy good for AI. Never read anything so ruddy good. And you processed it?” “Yes.” “What’s your name son?” “Dee.” “Dee what?” “Palmer.” “Pleasure to meet you, Palmer. How much did you… influence it, the AI?” “How do you mean, sir?” “Call me Freedkin.” “How do you mean, Freedkin?” “I mean… how much of it is yours and how much is the machine’s?” Dee didn’t answer. He was looking for the angle. This old man surely didn’t value what AI does. He’s one of the last bastions of actual human creation. What was he getting at? Freedkin reoriented his question. “Mostly the machine or mostly you?” Dee thought he might have a kindred spirit here, in front of him, for the first time. He was going to take a risk. Recognizing a willingness to open up, Freedkin leaned in and spoke quietly. “Did you write this inspo or did the machine?” “I wrote it.” Dee postured. “All.” “Thought so. Good job. Our secret.” Freedkin winked. “Jolly good.” The next day, as he fed his AI little snippets of unexpected data, Dee noticed a hush come over his floor. The usual keyboard click, clack and grumble of inter-colleague banter were dead silent. All that was left was the processors’ harmonic hum. He lifted himself from his expensive ergonomic office chair and peered over his cubicle wall, spying across the sea of operators that made up the AI.ded Creativity department. A hunched figure at the opposite end of the bullpen sauntered from operator to operator, swilling a cup of coffee, looking in at each workstation. Giving a “hello” here, a nod there, even the odd salute. It was Freedkin. A real writer. Down here with the machine feeders. The other operators seemed afraid to go near him. Worried they might infect him with their inability. Dee had never seen a real writer in the operators’ bullpen. Freedkin, already old by industry standards, looked positively ancient in these surroundings. A sepia photograph in a technicolor world. Dee watched him, wondering if he should call out. He felt bound by social etiquette to not foist another outburst onto his peers. So he just watched, for a number of minutes, until Freedkin was close enough that his old eyes could make out Dee’s visage.
“Palmer!” Bingo. The two sat in Dee’s cubicle. Freedkin in the expensive office chair, as was fitting, and Dee on the wooden footstool. “For a short time we all worked from home. At the start of my career. For a short time.” “Everyone?” “Most. Not everyone, I suppose. But it was the thing to do. Was deemed more productive. Until it wasn’t. Then when this thing became the norm,” he tapped on Dee’s tiny AI processor, its red light glowed, “there was a sort of an office renaissance. I remember the bigwigs back then didn’t really want us using AI for ideas. Like it was giving in to the machine. We slowly got called back to the agency so they could keep an eye on our output. Keep it human, I suppose. That’s when the separation happened. In the end, the agency had to start using artificial thinking to keep up with demand. What are you lot churning out these days? Three campaigns a day? Four? We used to get a whole week to come up with one idea. After a while, of course, it got squeezed down to a couple of days. To the point where we needed the machine to keep up. Not long after, the bigwigs realized they could actually charge more off of the ‘human’ written stuff. Anyway, enough of the history lesson, what.” “It’s very interesting.” “Yes well, what I really came down here for,” Freedkin paused and looked around, “was some of that… good… inspo.” “I hear ya.” Dee poised his fingers over his keyboard and looked into the air like he was about to write something un.ai.ded, cocksure in his posture. “What’s this one about then?” “Watches. For Googlesoft. ‘Time,’ I was thinking, means so much, yet so little. Where does it all go? You know? How do we make more of it? Watches are time machines. See?” Dee’s posture sank. He thought of all that, by himself? No machine? He suddenly felt very ineffective. Unoriginal. He saw only the red glow from his little AI processor, staring back at him. Taking all the credit. He imagined it laughing with his colleagues in a bar while he sat at the other end of the table, ignored. He imagined it accepting awards by itself. He felt weak. He felt useless without it. It just glowed. “It kind of flows better… when I’m alone.” Dee nervously mumbled. “Right. Don’t say another word. Right you are. ‘Time.’ Remember. Where does it all go? Ok, I go. Ta-ta for now.
Dee looked down at his processor, apologetically. He quietly admonished himself before it until he felt forgiven. Then he typed in a weak initial prompt, all he could muster, write an advertising campaign about time.
The AI spat back a perfectly crafted campaign idea, line and film execution almost faster than Dee hit enter. The Best Things Come To Bros Who Wait. Dee immediately recognized it as a Guinness Surfers imitation. Tick followed tock followed tick followed tock. Its Effectology score clocked in well into the nineties. But its Originology score barely scraped by, just making it into ‘passable.’ Dee silently sneered at his surrounding coworkers. Any one of them would submit this as is and call it a day. It’d be rendered in minutes, deals made with celebrities’ CG likenesses under the hour, a revered AI voiceover and stunning synthetic music that would leave audiences lining up for these passively useful timepieces. But that wasn’t enough for Dee. That’s why he was who he was, goddamnit. Why Freedkin came to him. Him! Not Buton or Deytoro or Heckering. Him!
He added more detail to his prompt. Meaning of time. How to get time back. Time Machine. Back in time. Michael J Fox. Einstein (dog). Time Bandits. Timecop. Van Damme. Kyle Reece. Time displacement. Uhhh huhhh this felt good again. This was working. Dee and his processor were back in sync. As though they were one. Of course, as far as Freedkin knew, they were one. As Dee typed away, he imagined him and his AI coming together. Two heads. Better than one. He lost himself in his prompting and pictured his processor sitting on his shoulder, a second head, right there, next to his own. A tiny, metal appendage. Sleek, gray, with its glowing red light. And, for some reason, it was growing a little mustache. Dee and the mustached machine were completely lost in their work over the next few days. They hardly wrote any of their own campaigns. It was all inspo, inspo, inspo for Freedkin. The good stuff though, Viking Space Cruises, 1900 Tequila, Acne Studios. Each time, Dee and his processor were pretty much writing the entire thing. Freedkin hardly needed to change them at all. Just put his old world tone all over it. Add all of his extra words and ‘personality.’ Dee’s two heads were coming up with the best campaigns in the agency. And no one knew it. Except Freedkin. By now, his second head felt almost as big as his first. He could see it in his periphery. When he looked to the left, it looked back at him. It smiled sometimes. And that little freaking mustache was starting to freak Dee out. That night, Freedkin invited Dee for a couple of drinks with the other real human writers at the fanciest DoritosLocosTacoBell on the Westside. They didn’t even have to wait in line. Dee marveled at the size of the place, the expansiveness. It was packed. They were led through by the greeter to a private table at the back with a leather rope around it. He sat on the edge of the booth as the others ordered various flavors of Gatorade-aritas. When it got to Dee, he said he would have the same as Freedkin, which turned out to be a Frost Glacier Cherry-arita, the classiest -arita of all.
The writers’ conversation was mesmerizing. Every word that came out of their mouths was a unique thought. An opinion. A point of view. Dee tried to join in by recounting the narrative of various movies he had seen. The more obscure the better, attempting to interact at their level. While telling the story of Mick Jackson’s Threads to Bigelo, he could feel her searching for a point of view or an opinion in what he was saying, but he couldn’t stir one. If only he had his processor right now. Its red light glowed comfortingly in his mind. He missed it. Slowly, the other writers left. Dee couldn’t help but think he had something to do with it. He was feeling so inadequate by the time everyone but Freedkin had gone that he just sat quietly and half-smiled at him. Both of them were five or six Gatorade-aritas deep, slumped in their private booth. “Do you like what you do?” Asked Freedkin. “I love it.” “Do you really?” “I don’t know.” “I hate what I do. But I’m good at it. Do you want to know the secret, Palmer? The secret to what we do?” Dee couldn’t do anything but smile a little bigger to communicate his response. Freedkin paused for dramatic effect. “If you love advertising, you shouldn’t work in advertising.” Did Dee love advertising? He didn’t even know. He knew he knew advertising. “You think your audience loves advertising? You think they want to see your tribute to that Googlesoft spot that was an imitation of an Apple spot that was inspired by a Brett Morgen film? No! They just want to see the Brett Morgen film! They don’t want to see your thing at all!” Dee slumped further down. “But if you’re lucky,” Freedkin continued, “if you’re really lucky, and you show them something they’ve never seen before, because you hate advertising too and you just wanted to make something that made you feel something, if they feel that same feeling, you’ve got gold. But you can only get to gold by summoning all of your experiences outside of advertising. You can’t just try to make the Nike of pimple commercials. You have to make the Palmer of pimple commercials. Do you see? That’s the problem with your AI. Your machine.”
The red light flashed again in Dee’s mind. Awakened by Freedkin’s heresy.
“The best AI will ever do is just show you a better version of something you’ve seen before. They call that effective? The numbers can say whatever they want them to, all they’re really doing is pasting wallpaper on top of wallpaper on top of wallpaper. Until eventually the audience ignores it completely. But you’re different Palmer. You and I are different. Different is what sells. I had a word with Simmons up on six. She’s agreed to give you a trial period on the human floor. At my behest. Don’t worry, I didn’t tell her you were already thinking for yourself. I just told her you had the potential to. You start tomorrow. Trial period. Tonight was about the other humans meeting you. I can’t tell you that they’re not skeptical. But they’re open to it. For me. What do you think?” Dee was nervous. He got off the elevator at the operators’ bullpen without even thinking about it. He walked all the way to the atrium and up the grand staircase to the human writers’ floor, instead of getting back on the elevator. He took each step steadily, taking it all in. He felt like a tourist. Like he was borrowing an identity. He imagined he was a young Freedkin and tried to put a confident stride in his step. It didn’t work. He put his hand in his pocket and felt for his AI processor. His second head. Mustached. He couldn’t turn it on because, as everyone knew, AI wasn’t allowed upstairs, in case the agency got audited. The cost consultants would be all over a human writing department that used artificial ideation. They’d be shut down. At the very least, they would lose their Un.AI.ded AI.dvertising license. The only reason for charging such a premium. Dee ran his hand along the balcony rail. He’d only ever seen it from downstairs, from the non-human thinkers’ floor. He walked from the balcony to the human writer’s work area. It was the exact opposite of what he was used to. No sea of cubicles. No click clack. No mechanized productivity. No hum. Just couches, writing desks and quiet.
“Morning.” Whistled Freedkin. “How are we?” “We?” “You.” “Wish I hadn’t drunk so much.” “Ohh, I know. Think of it as an initiation. Nothing wrong with it. Takes your mind off the job. Stops you from thinking for a minute. You need that after everything you’ve been pumping out. All that gold, that is.” “Right.” “Right. Well. Set yourself up wherever you like. First brief is for Coca-Cola. A new water! The freshest water they’ve ever sold, so they say. Tap Clear” Dee wandered over to a small writing desk and put his touchscreen down. He unraveled his headphone cable and felt for his processor in his pocket. When he found it, he rubbed it like a lamp, wishing for a genie. A couple of human writers who’d been deep in concentration when he first walked in, had been disturbed by his arrival. He didn’t recognize them from last night. They glared at him as he set himself up. He smiled in their general direction. They continued to glare. “Big Jim.” Whispered Freedkin. “Him and his team have been here three days straight, on a pitch. Don’t worry about them. They’re just under tremendous stress. This human work really takes it out of you, you know? ” Dee turned and sat with his back to them. He powered up his touchscreen and put his headphones on, draping his Loewe headphone cable around his neck and shoulders. He hovered his fingers over his keyboard, expecting ideas to come. Nothing. He skimmed the brief. Still nothing. He read the brief. Not a thing. A few of the other writers strolled in. Dee watched them find a workspace, sit down, start writing. One of them even used a pen! Dee loved this whole lifestyle. Turn up for work whenever, spout genius, have lunch, sell some billion dollar ideas, have a cocktail. The thought of it all spurred him on. He hovered his fingers over his keyboard again and braced himself for the idea flow. Nothing came. Nothing. All morning. His mind was blank. It felt like it was getting blanker. He couldn’t believe it. Even half thoughts were swimming away from him. Impossible to catch. Even just individual words. Gone. By the afternoon Dee was starting to freak out. He felt like an imposter. “Freedkin,” he hissed, “I can’t think. I can’t come up with anything.” “It takes time, my boy. Days. I told you, before we used to even have weeks…” “But my brain’s not working at all. It won’t… generate… anything.” “Relax your brain. Relax yourself.” “But Freedkin… Freedkin,” he hissed again, “I didn’t write any of that stuff. It was AI. All of it. No… I mean… I helped… but it wasn’t all me.” “Ok… hold on… boy… be careful. That kind of talk will get you killed around here. Try and make it to the end of the day. Try just writing some things down. Some thoughts. Some words. And if you still feel the same tomorrow, I’ll let the brass know it wasn’t for you. No harm.” Dee’s eyes hardened. “Do you hear me, Palmer?” Dee rubbed his temples. “Listen, this affects both of us. Yes, you, but also me… for recommending you. I’ll be out… Think!” Freedkin distanced himself. Hoping it would quell the panic. Dee stared at nothing for as long as he could. An hour, at most. Just stared. No thoughts came. No words. A blank screen. So he slipped his hand in his pocket, held his AI processor warmly, and turned it on. Instantly, an alarm sounded. “What's going on here, Freedkin?” Skewered Big Jim. “Is this your kid? What’s the big idea? Is he working for the machines? What is he…trying to infiltrate us? I can’t have this. I’ve got a family. I can’t be out of a job.” “It’s just a misunderstanding, Jim. He’ll be leaving now.” “No he won’t. Get back here, kid.” Big Jim grabbed at Dee’s shirt. Dee squirmed and tried to push him away. Big Jim got a hand on his neck instead, as some of the other writers tried to grab his arms. Dee instinctively swung his fists around. He got one of the writers, Bigelo, square in the eye. She roared “He’s blinded me!” Big Jim picked him up by his neck. Dee choked. He grabbed his touchscreen and swung it. The edge caught Big Jim on the side of the head. Big Jim dropped him and screamed. Freedkin put a hand on Big Jim’s shoulder. Big Jim swung his fist around and slammed it into Freedkin’s nose. Dee tried to slip away but Big Jim, raging, grabbed his headphone cable and dragged him back, winding the cable around his neck to try and hold on to him with it. The other writers stepped back as Dee kicked around in a panic. He got one of the writers in the stomach and another in the back. The headphone cable slipped out of Big Jim’s hands. Dee reached out for anything he could grab onto. He found a desk leg and pulled himself away from the melee as the gang of writers got him by his feet. They pulled off his Jordans and he crawled away as fast as he could, out of the writers’ area and onto the balcony. The writers caught up with him. He swung the few punches he could muster. He cracked one writer on the cheekbone as another reached for his headphone cable, wrapping it around the balcony rail to stop him from getting even further away. Big Jim steamed in, bleeding from his head, and slammed into Dee, launching him into the air with his sheer force. Dee reached for the rail but it slipped under him as he toppled over into the open atrium, between the floors. He felt a snap as the headphone cable went taut around his neck. A colleague standing in the atrium shrieked. Dee kicked his legs and wriggled about, trying to slip out. He clawed his hands around the cable and tried to loosen it but it just got tighter and tighter. He looked up to see the human writers peering down. Not helping. He could feel his consciousness slipping away. He looked to his left to see his second head staring straight back at him. As he hung, he could feel the metal head growing, exponentially, until it popped off, hit the ground and shattered. Shiny gray liquid metal spilled all over the floor and splashed up the walls. Its red light glowing all over as the metal spread around the room. Once it had flooded the entire atrium it enveloped Dee’s mind. And he was gone. The agency left his body hanging there for two days. They blamed it on a lack of janitorial availability. Everything in the office was automated, and cutting down a dead body wasn’t something their sanitation robots had been programmed to do. But, deep down, everyone knew that it was a message. That they should stay in the roles they had been assigned. So they did. So they wouldn’t end up like Dee.
submitted by Bateman_Not_Batman to shortstories [link] [comments]
Dee had read articles like this before. He couldn’t remember if the future had ever been officially canceled. But it had been canceled. Unofficially, perhaps. Hence the need to do it officially.
He skimmed the first few paragraphs …the slow cancellation of the future… …pop culture is eating itself… …imitators are imitating an imitation… The ‘slow cancellation’ theory was first flung around in the early twenty first century, on the hypothesis that if you played 1970s music to someone in the 1950s, it would blow their freaking mind. And if you played music from the 1990s to someone in the 1970s, their mind would be equally blown. But if you played music from the ‘10s to someone in the 1990s it wouldn’t be that much of a stretch. In fact, that person may even think they had heard some of it before. The same thing with music from the ‘30s to someone in the ‘10s or music from now to someone in the ‘30s. That person might conceivably think they were even listening to music from a previous decade. Pop culture had referenced itself so many times over, it was now just a copy of a copy of a copy. Degrading every time.
Dee looked down at the article's credit, Dennis Bagley, Editorial AI Operator. He knew it, AI. No wonder it read so familiar. He looked up at the various awards on his top shelf. Dee knew he was different. Better. His AI operating skills were the thing of accolades. The thing of applause. Just last week he and his AI processor picked up Gold in Effectology for their Just Poo It campaign for Charmin. And Silver in Originology for their The Ketchup In The Rye commercial for Pepsi-Heinz, about a young guy who gets kicked out of school and stays out all night trying to find a bottle of ketchup. He looked down at his processor and beamed. Its glowing red light beamed back at him.
They didn’t just stumble into that kind of effectiveness. Campaigns didn’t even get greenlit unless they scored ninety or above on the Effectology meter. He and his AI were usually hitting ninety twos or ninety threes, even a ninety five for Here’s To The Lazy Ones for Caspar mattresses. That campaign killed.
But Dee held himself to that higher calling, Originology. The metrics of original ideas. Sure, the AI did most of the work but Dee was able to tweak his processor to go way beyond the requisite twenty five percent Originology score. Together they were nailing figures in the forties, sometimes even peaking into the fifties. Scores that were head and shoulders above the rest of the department.
That’s how he could afford the sweet ‘18 Jordans Reissues on his feet. He curled his luxe Loewe headphone cable through his fingers and wrapped it around his neck like a scarf. He scoffed at a time when people didn’t think they needed a headphone cable. And imagined having nothing to twirl while listening to reinterpreted rock, nothing to wind around his fingers while he fed the processor. How many headphones must have been lost forever, just because they weren’t plugged in? Like everything else in pop culture, what went around came around, and, relatively recently, headphone cables had come back hard as the status symbol. Today, you didn’t just have to have a cable to be considered cool, you had to have the cable. It had to be thick as a rope, plated with rare metals, and covered in a fancy leather sheath from a chic brand like Gucci or Loewe.
Dee beamed as he thought of all the cool historical cultural knowledge he had amassed. Not just advertising history like the dweebs in the cubicles around him, but film history, fashion history, art history, music history. If it happened in culture, he knew about it. And he used it. That’s how he scored so high on the Originology meter. It made him feel almost like a real writer. Though he would never say that out loud. He imagined being like the old timers, upstairs. The un.ai.ded human writers, that clients would pay a serious premium for. Then he wouldn’t have to work on ketchup and toilet roll. He could have a crack at the big dogs, like Googlesoft, United American Airlines or DoritosLocosTacoBell. For now though, he’d have to stick with clients more becoming of his position. This morning’s task was to create a campaign for Pepsi-Crest. A toothpaste. Not super interesting. But he knew how to spice it up. Instead of letting his AI go back through decades of toothpaste ads just to pump out tired old crap like the It Cleans Your Face While it Cleans Your Teeth campaign that Mike Bey pitched last week, Dee mixed in a little fast food inspo from one of his favorite eras and found himself at the highly original and equally effective Where’s the Teeth? campaign. He was stunned by his own brilliance. He patted his processor and imagined it congratulating him back, then he programmed it to write an epic fifteen second anthem film and a suite of six second pre-roll spots, then sent it off to the CG department to render in time to air that night. Dee’s colleagues often asked him how he and his processor were so good at what they did. How their campaigns always scored so highly in both Effectology and Originology. They all used the same machine learning. It’s what the agency sold itself on. Never wanting to sound aloof; even though he was, or like he was tooting his own horn; even though he often did, he would merely say, “I like to pepper a bit of non advertising data in there. A little hint of me.” It was enough to provoke gasps and even make his colleagues take a step back or two, they had all been programmed to do just one task, feed the machine with advertising data. They couldn’t fathom diverging. “The AI should be enough,” was the general understanding. “The machine has better knowledge of advertising history than we do,” and “knows the ins and outs of Effectology better than we ever could.” It’s even been “scientifically programmed to exceed all expectation of Originology.” Dee couldn’t be swayed by any of the standard reactions. He would just smile, and casually amble off. Knowing full well he was beating the machine. He was a rebel in his own right. That afternoon, his section boss leaned over his cubicle. “Hullo Tara.” “Keep it formal please, colleague,” she scolded, “call me Antino. What do you look so ruddy chuffed about anyway?” “I just came up with a brilliant campaign for a very dull toothpaste. You’ll see it on The Comedy Central Reruns Channel tonight.” “Yes, well, an upstairs project is running behind and they’re calling on us down here to pull together some inspo decks, help jostle something loose in those tired old brains.” “Wouldn’t that make them not human-made? What are their clients paying all that money for?” “Loopholes, colleague, loopholes. As long as one of them humans writes the final line, it doesn’t matter how much AI they used to get there. “ “I could do that. I could do better than that. Did I tell you about my toothpaste campaign?” “Yes you did. Twice now. Must be good.” “It is.” “Well, here’s your chance for a peek into the real writer life. I’m deprioritizing your regular workload and prioritizing this inspo creation.” “Yeahhh!” Dee punched the air and freeze framed like he saw in an old movie. “The brief is for Fiat Maserati Jeep Dodge RAM. It’s a car. The Fiat Maserati Jeep Dodge RAM Unica. Like a fancy off-roader, you know what I mean? They wanna sell it to people in cities who don’t drive. More of a status symbol, you know what I mean? Like park it in front of your house so people will know you could go off-roading if you wanted to. Audience archetype is Moms. You getting this?” Dee finally broke his freeze frame but his mind was already whirring. “Yeah, I got it.” “Alright then. Bon chance.” Dee jumped into action, flipped up his AI processor’s screen and started cross referencing old Land Rover ads with The Rock movies, some Nora Ephron classics, Michelle Rodriguez’s character from all twenty eight Fast & Furious movies; even the fully CGI’d ones, the scene from Mrs Doubtfire when she’s playing the broomstick like a guitar, some Bikini Kill records, a memory of his own Mom making him wait in the car while she went shopping at Bergdorfs, a bunch of cool off-roading stuff from Top Gear and a painting of a car he’d always loved by Robert Bechtle. The machine spat out fifteen possible campaign inspo starters and Dee ran-walked them to the inspo courier in the office atrium. Before the day ended, a synthetic orchestra sounded through the building, \Pah pahhh, pah pa pah pa pah pahhh** and the employees were called into the atrium. Office meeting. As Dee strolled in, he caught the rare sight of the last few human copywriters lined up around the balcony above them. They applauded the downstairs employees, theatrically, motioning with their claps as they walked in and took seats, stood awkwardly or otherwise congregated.
There was a dramatic hush before one of the last true human copywriters finally spoke. “Great inspo. Thanks.” Wow. Each word, each letter, worth its weight in gold. That's probably why they used so few, thought Dee. “Yeah, really really good stuff.” Said another. “AI did this?” Said a third as she held the sheets of inspo out. “Some of the best inspo I’ve ever seen in all of my career.” Coughed the oldest and most regal sounding.
Dee squinted and peered up at them. Was that his inspo deck they were flashing around? Was this whole elaborate ceremony all to celebrate his AI operating? He didn’t know whether to be chuffed or anxious. Did they know he was cheating the system? Did they care? These are some of the last true human copywriters in history. They have, and are encouraged to have, the unique thought. Their work isn’t judged on how similar-without-being-exactly-the-same it is to existing campaigns. It’s judged on how different, how breakthrough, how stand out it is.
“It was me!” Dee blurted out. Quite uncharacteristically. He was usually so cool with the compliments. So coy with the recognition. His whole angle required it.
The other AI operators standing around him took their requisite step back, though this time it was less in awe, more in disgust. The air in the room stiffened. AI had ruled his department, and most of the industry, for so long that people didn’t speak up anymore. They just quietly fed the machine. And the machine took all the glory. Dee felt instant ostracism from the colleagues he had worked alongside for most of his career. He immediately questioned his outburst and retracted his ownership claim, knowing that his inspo deck would have been one of many.
“Some of it, at least. My AI, I mean. Processor.” He said. Sheepish this time. Back in his place.
The last few human copywriters smiled, nodded, bowed, gave final congratulations to all from high up on their balcony and then shuffled away in single file. All but one, Sir Coughing-Most-Regal. He slowly made his way down the grand staircase, into the atrium. A man leaving behind his usual pomp and circumstance, bringing his rare ability of unique thought into a crowd of imitation suppliers. As he reached the bottom step, he lost all of his royal air and seemed suddenly so vulnerable, walking among the regular folk. Most of Dee’s colleagues had already left, gone back to their metal masters, but Dee stayed. He knew this old man was coming to see him. He thought he might be in for a dressing down but he hoped it would be the opposite. He manifested that this titan of singular thought, the rare, unique idea, was coming to congratulate him.
“Freedkin.” The old man shoved out his hand. “Pleasure.” Dee shook it. “You say you programmed this inspo deck, yes?” He flapped the pages around. “Yes.” “Ruddy good work, let me tell you.” “Thank you.” “In all my years, since this artificial thinking thing came in, I’ve never read anything so good. Inspired me all over. I’ve been positively bursting with ideas since.” “Thank… you.” “AI wrote this you say?” “Yes.” “Ruddy good for AI. Never read anything so ruddy good. And you processed it?” “Yes.” “What’s your name son?” “Dee.” “Dee what?” “Palmer.” “Pleasure to meet you, Palmer. How much did you… influence it, the AI?” “How do you mean, sir?” “Call me Freedkin.” “How do you mean, Freedkin?” “I mean… how much of it is yours and how much is the machine’s?” Dee didn’t answer. He was looking for the angle. This old man surely didn’t value what AI does. He’s one of the last bastions of actual human creation. What was he getting at? Freedkin reoriented his question. “Mostly the machine or mostly you?” Dee thought he might have a kindred spirit here, in front of him, for the first time. He was going to take a risk. Recognizing a willingness to open up, Freedkin leaned in and spoke quietly. “Did you write this inspo or did the machine?” “I wrote it.” Dee postured. “All.” “Thought so. Good job. Our secret.” Freedkin winked. “Jolly good.” The next day, as he fed his AI little snippets of unexpected data, Dee noticed a hush come over his floor. The usual keyboard click, clack and grumble of inter-colleague banter were dead silent. All that was left was the processors’ harmonic hum. He lifted himself from his expensive ergonomic office chair and peered over his cubicle wall, spying across the sea of operators that made up the AI.ded Creativity department. A hunched figure at the opposite end of the bullpen sauntered from operator to operator, swilling a cup of coffee, looking in at each workstation. Giving a “hello” here, a nod there, even the odd salute. It was Freedkin. A real writer. Down here with the machine feeders. The other operators seemed afraid to go near him. Worried they might infect him with their inability. Dee had never seen a real writer in the operators’ bullpen. Freedkin, already old by industry standards, looked positively ancient in these surroundings. A sepia photograph in a technicolor world. Dee watched him, wondering if he should call out. He felt bound by social etiquette to not foist another outburst onto his peers. So he just watched, for a number of minutes, until Freedkin was close enough that his old eyes could make out Dee’s visage.
“Palmer!” Bingo. The two sat in Dee’s cubicle. Freedkin in the expensive office chair, as was fitting, and Dee on the wooden footstool. “For a short time we all worked from home. At the start of my career. For a short time.” “Everyone?” “Most. Not everyone, I suppose. But it was the thing to do. Was deemed more productive. Until it wasn’t. Then when this thing became the norm,” he tapped on Dee’s tiny AI processor, its red light glowed, “there was a sort of an office renaissance. I remember the bigwigs back then didn’t really want us using AI for ideas. Like it was giving in to the machine. We slowly got called back to the agency so they could keep an eye on our output. Keep it human, I suppose. That’s when the separation happened. In the end, the agency had to start using artificial thinking to keep up with demand. What are you lot churning out these days? Three campaigns a day? Four? We used to get a whole week to come up with one idea. After a while, of course, it got squeezed down to a couple of days. To the point where we needed the machine to keep up. Not long after, the bigwigs realized they could actually charge more off of the ‘human’ written stuff. Anyway, enough of the history lesson, what.” “It’s very interesting.” “Yes well, what I really came down here for,” Freedkin paused and looked around, “was some of that… good… inspo.” “I hear ya.” Dee poised his fingers over his keyboard and looked into the air like he was about to write something un.ai.ded, cocksure in his posture. “What’s this one about then?” “Watches. For Googlesoft. ‘Time,’ I was thinking, means so much, yet so little. Where does it all go? You know? How do we make more of it? Watches are time machines. See?” Dee’s posture sank. He thought of all that, by himself? No machine? He suddenly felt very ineffective. Unoriginal. He saw only the red glow from his little AI processor, staring back at him. Taking all the credit. He imagined it laughing with his colleagues in a bar while he sat at the other end of the table, ignored. He imagined it accepting awards by itself. He felt weak. He felt useless without it. It just glowed. “It kind of flows better… when I’m alone.” Dee nervously mumbled. “Right. Don’t say another word. Right you are. ‘Time.’ Remember. Where does it all go? Ok, I go. Ta-ta for now.
Dee looked down at his processor, apologetically. He quietly admonished himself before it until he felt forgiven. Then he typed in a weak initial prompt, all he could muster, write an advertising campaign about time.
The AI spat back a perfectly crafted campaign idea, line and film execution almost faster than Dee hit enter. The Best Things Come To Bros Who Wait. Dee immediately recognized it as a Guinness Surfers imitation. Tick followed tock followed tick followed tock. Its Effectology score clocked in well into the nineties. But its Originology score barely scraped by, just making it into ‘passable.’ Dee silently sneered at his surrounding coworkers. Any one of them would submit this as is and call it a day. It’d be rendered in minutes, deals made with celebrities’ CG likenesses under the hour, a revered AI voiceover and stunning synthetic music that would leave audiences lining up for these passively useful timepieces. But that wasn’t enough for Dee. That’s why he was who he was, goddamnit. Why Freedkin came to him. Him! Not Buton or Deytoro or Heckering. Him!
He added more detail to his prompt. Meaning of time. How to get time back. Time Machine. Back in time. Michael J Fox. Einstein (dog). Time Bandits. Timecop. Van Damme. Kyle Reece. Time displacement. Uhhh huhhh this felt good again. This was working. Dee and his processor were back in sync. As though they were one. Of course, as far as Freedkin knew, they were one. As Dee typed away, he imagined him and his AI coming together. Two heads. Better than one. He lost himself in his prompting and pictured his processor sitting on his shoulder, a second head, right there, next to his own. A tiny, metal appendage. Sleek, gray, with its glowing red light. And, for some reason, it was growing a little mustache. Dee and the mustached machine were completely lost in their work over the next few days. They hardly wrote any of their own campaigns. It was all inspo, inspo, inspo for Freedkin. The good stuff though, Viking Space Cruises, 1900 Tequila, Acne Studios. Each time, Dee and his processor were pretty much writing the entire thing. Freedkin hardly needed to change them at all. Just put his old world tone all over it. Add all of his extra words and ‘personality.’ Dee’s two heads were coming up with the best campaigns in the agency. And no one knew it. Except Freedkin. By now, his second head felt almost as big as his first. He could see it in his periphery. When he looked to the left, it looked back at him. It smiled sometimes. And that little freaking mustache was starting to freak Dee out. That night, Freedkin invited Dee for a couple of drinks with the other real human writers at the fanciest DoritosLocosTacoBell on the Westside. They didn’t even have to wait in line. Dee marveled at the size of the place, the expansiveness. It was packed. They were led through by the greeter to a private table at the back with a leather rope around it. He sat on the edge of the booth as the others ordered various flavors of Gatorade-aritas. When it got to Dee, he said he would have the same as Freedkin, which turned out to be a Frost Glacier Cherry-arita, the classiest -arita of all.
The writers’ conversation was mesmerizing. Every word that came out of their mouths was a unique thought. An opinion. A point of view. Dee tried to join in by recounting the narrative of various movies he had seen. The more obscure the better, attempting to interact at their level. While telling the story of Mick Jackson’s Threads to Bigelo, he could feel her searching for a point of view or an opinion in what he was saying, but he couldn’t stir one. If only he had his processor right now. Its red light glowed comfortingly in his mind. He missed it. Slowly, the other writers left. Dee couldn’t help but think he had something to do with it. He was feeling so inadequate by the time everyone but Freedkin had gone that he just sat quietly and half-smiled at him. Both of them were five or six Gatorade-aritas deep, slumped in their private booth. “Do you like what you do?” Asked Freedkin. “I love it.” “Do you really?” “I don’t know.” “I hate what I do. But I’m good at it. Do you want to know the secret, Palmer? The secret to what we do?” Dee couldn’t do anything but smile a little bigger to communicate his response. Freedkin paused for dramatic effect. “If you love advertising, you shouldn’t work in advertising.” Did Dee love advertising? He didn’t even know. He knew he knew advertising. “You think your audience loves advertising? You think they want to see your tribute to that Googlesoft spot that was an imitation of an Apple spot that was inspired by a Brett Morgen film? No! They just want to see the Brett Morgen film! They don’t want to see your thing at all!” Dee slumped further down. “But if you’re lucky,” Freedkin continued, “if you’re really lucky, and you show them something they’ve never seen before, because you hate advertising too and you just wanted to make something that made you feel something, if they feel that same feeling, you’ve got gold. But you can only get to gold by summoning all of your experiences outside of advertising. You can’t just try to make the Nike of pimple commercials. You have to make the Palmer of pimple commercials. Do you see? That’s the problem with your AI. Your machine.”
The red light flashed again in Dee’s mind. Awakened by Freedkin’s heresy.
“The best AI will ever do is just show you a better version of something you’ve seen before. They call that effective? The numbers can say whatever they want them to, all they’re really doing is pasting wallpaper on top of wallpaper on top of wallpaper. Until eventually the audience ignores it completely. But you’re different Palmer. You and I are different. Different is what sells. I had a word with Simmons up on six. She’s agreed to give you a trial period on the human floor. At my behest. Don’t worry, I didn’t tell her you were already thinking for yourself. I just told her you had the potential to. You start tomorrow. Trial period. Tonight was about the other humans meeting you. I can’t tell you that they’re not skeptical. But they’re open to it. For me. What do you think?” Dee was nervous. He got off the elevator at the operators’ bullpen without even thinking about it. He walked all the way to the atrium and up the grand staircase to the human writers’ floor, instead of getting back on the elevator. He took each step steadily, taking it all in. He felt like a tourist. Like he was borrowing an identity. He imagined he was a young Freedkin and tried to put a confident stride in his step. It didn’t work. He put his hand in his pocket and felt for his AI processor. His second head. Mustached. He couldn’t turn it on because, as everyone knew, AI wasn’t allowed upstairs, in case the agency got audited. The cost consultants would be all over a human writing department that used artificial ideation. They’d be shut down. At the very least, they would lose their Un.AI.ded AI.dvertising license. The only reason for charging such a premium. Dee ran his hand along the balcony rail. He’d only ever seen it from downstairs, from the non-human thinkers’ floor. He walked from the balcony to the human writer’s work area. It was the exact opposite of what he was used to. No sea of cubicles. No click clack. No mechanized productivity. No hum. Just couches, writing desks and quiet.
“Morning.” Whistled Freedkin. “How are we?” “We?” “You.” “Wish I hadn’t drunk so much.” “Ohh, I know. Think of it as an initiation. Nothing wrong with it. Takes your mind off the job. Stops you from thinking for a minute. You need that after everything you’ve been pumping out. All that gold, that is.” “Right.” “Right. Well. Set yourself up wherever you like. First brief is for Coca-Cola. A new water! The freshest water they’ve ever sold, so they say. Tap Clear” Dee wandered over to a small writing desk and put his touchscreen down. He unraveled his headphone cable and felt for his processor in his pocket. When he found it, he rubbed it like a lamp, wishing for a genie. A couple of human writers who’d been deep in concentration when he first walked in, had been disturbed by his arrival. He didn’t recognize them from last night. They glared at him as he set himself up. He smiled in their general direction. They continued to glare. “Big Jim.” Whispered Freedkin. “Him and his team have been here three days straight, on a pitch. Don’t worry about them. They’re just under tremendous stress. This human work really takes it out of you, you know? ” Dee turned and sat with his back to them. He powered up his touchscreen and put his headphones on, draping his Loewe headphone cable around his neck and shoulders. He hovered his fingers over his keyboard, expecting ideas to come. Nothing. He skimmed the brief. Still nothing. He read the brief. Not a thing. A few of the other writers strolled in. Dee watched them find a workspace, sit down, start writing. One of them even used a pen! Dee loved this whole lifestyle. Turn up for work whenever, spout genius, have lunch, sell some billion dollar ideas, have a cocktail. The thought of it all spurred him on. He hovered his fingers over his keyboard again and braced himself for the idea flow. Nothing came. Nothing. All morning. His mind was blank. It felt like it was getting blanker. He couldn’t believe it. Even half thoughts were swimming away from him. Impossible to catch. Even just individual words. Gone. By the afternoon Dee was starting to freak out. He felt like an imposter. “Freedkin,” he hissed, “I can’t think. I can’t come up with anything.” “It takes time, my boy. Days. I told you, before we used to even have weeks…” “But my brain’s not working at all. It won’t… generate… anything.” “Relax your brain. Relax yourself.” “But Freedkin… Freedkin,” he hissed again, “I didn’t write any of that stuff. It was AI. All of it. No… I mean… I helped… but it wasn’t all me.” “Ok… hold on… boy… be careful. That kind of talk will get you killed around here. Try and make it to the end of the day. Try just writing some things down. Some thoughts. Some words. And if you still feel the same tomorrow, I’ll let the brass know it wasn’t for you. No harm.” Dee’s eyes hardened. “Do you hear me, Palmer?” Dee rubbed his temples. “Listen, this affects both of us. Yes, you, but also me… for recommending you. I’ll be out… Think!” Freedkin distanced himself. Hoping it would quell the panic. Dee stared at nothing for as long as he could. An hour, at most. Just stared. No thoughts came. No words. A blank screen. So he slipped his hand in his pocket, held his AI processor warmly, and turned it on. Instantly, an alarm sounded. “What's going on here, Freedkin?” Skewered Big Jim. “Is this your kid? What’s the big idea? Is he working for the machines? What is he…trying to infiltrate us? I can’t have this. I’ve got a family. I can’t be out of a job.” “It’s just a misunderstanding, Jim. He’ll be leaving now.” “No he won’t. Get back here, kid.” Big Jim grabbed at Dee’s shirt. Dee squirmed and tried to push him away. Big Jim got a hand on his neck instead, as some of the other writers tried to grab his arms. Dee instinctively swung his fists around. He got one of the writers, Bigelo, square in the eye. She roared “He’s blinded me!” Big Jim picked him up by his neck. Dee choked. He grabbed his touchscreen and swung it. The edge caught Big Jim on the side of the head. Big Jim dropped him and screamed. Freedkin put a hand on Big Jim’s shoulder. Big Jim swung his fist around and slammed it into Freedkin’s nose. Dee tried to slip away but Big Jim, raging, grabbed his headphone cable and dragged him back, winding the cable around his neck to try and hold on to him with it. The other writers stepped back as Dee kicked around in a panic. He got one of the writers in the stomach and another in the back. The headphone cable slipped out of Big Jim’s hands. Dee reached out for anything he could grab onto. He found a desk leg and pulled himself away from the melee as the gang of writers got him by his feet. They pulled off his Jordans and he crawled away as fast as he could, out of the writers’ area and onto the balcony. The writers caught up with him. He swung the few punches he could muster. He cracked one writer on the cheekbone as another reached for his headphone cable, wrapping it around the balcony rail to stop him from getting even further away. Big Jim steamed in, bleeding from his head, and slammed into Dee, launching him into the air with his sheer force. Dee reached for the rail but it slipped under him as he toppled over into the open atrium, between the floors. He felt a snap as the headphone cable went taut around his neck. A colleague standing in the atrium shrieked. Dee kicked his legs and wriggled about, trying to slip out. He clawed his hands around the cable and tried to loosen it but it just got tighter and tighter. He looked up to see the human writers peering down. Not helping. He could feel his consciousness slipping away. He looked to his left to see his second head staring straight back at him. As he hung, he could feel the metal head growing, exponentially, until it popped off, hit the ground and shattered. Shiny gray liquid metal spilled all over the floor and splashed up the walls. Its red light glowing all over as the metal spread around the room. Once it had flooded the entire atrium it enveloped Dee’s mind. And he was gone. The agency left his body hanging there for two days. They blamed it on a lack of janitorial availability. Everything in the office was automated, and cutting down a dead body wasn’t something their sanitation robots had been programmed to do. But, deep down, everyone knew that it was a message. That they should stay in the roles they had been assigned. So they did. So they wouldn’t end up like Dee.
2023.05.28 23:54 CatsInTrenchcoats Peacekeeping
Alright! After four months or so of dragging this out of my head, it's finally done. Special thanks to u/Swimming_Good_8507, J-son of Alien Nation, u/KLiCkonthat, u/An_Insufferable_NEWT and the other editors of the SSB Discord for helping me clean this one up. As with any other aspiring author; updoots, comments and the like help fuel my desire to write more.
CW for brief graphic violence.
Enjoy~
= = =
The silence was deafening. In all of her time on Earth, Evelra had seen more than her fair share of human riots, protests and civil unrest, but this was something else. For the fourth day in a row now, protesters had packed themselves together like fish at the market, filling the massive four-lane boulevard leading up to the governess’s estate. One of the early counts had placed some three thousand plus humans out there, and by her own estimate that number had at least doubled since then. When she had followed her orders and commanded the crowd to disperse over the loudspeakers, they had, almost in unison, sat down on the ground. That had been an hour ago. Since then, the governess’s insistence that she “do something” about them had only grown more and more rabid.
A brief glance up and down the front of the governess’s estate simply reconfirmed what Evelra already knew: The humans were staying on the other side of the street, leaving an empty road between them and the mansion. All in clear accordance with security regulations.
What felt like a million eyes glared up at her and the rest of the marines in silence. Many had covered their mouths with humanity’s seemingly ubiquitous ‘duct tape,’ while others merely wore cold stone-faced expressions. Sticking up out of the crowd were a plethora of signs, mostly in Shil’vati runes, but English lettering was dotted around as well. “No Voice, No Labor.” Was the most common sign, and certainly the nicest of them. Evelra suppressed a sigh and considered how in the deep they had gotten to this point.
The War was going poorly. Nobody wanted to admit it, but the Empire was hemorrhaging at the seams. Initial strikes had gone well, but the Alliance was massive. Every liberated world meant another garrison had to be established; and while some accepted the uplifting stability Imperial citizenship offered, most did not. Supply lines were stretched thin and even the vaunted Imperial Navy and their Marines couldn’t be everywhere at once. Simply put, the numbers weren’t adding up.
And all the while, Humanity bled.
“Captain? The governess’ demands, we aren’t going to?...” The voice of Eleynor, one of Evelra’s lieutenants and leader of Pod 7 cut through her thoughts. Over the officer’s comm channel, the other woman’s voice was rife with nervousness. There were more than a few boyfriends out in that crowd. No garrison wanted to be the first to buckle, to acquiesce; nor did they wish to be responsible for carrying out atrocities.
“No. We will not.” she replied in as steely of a tone as she could manage. The line was silent for a moment before her subordinate quietly spoke up again. “Good.”
As the line went dead, Evelra finally let out a sigh. As much as she agreed with the lieutenant’s morals, she still had to fulfill her directives and clear out this protest; regardless of the governess’s madness. Behind the sound-proofed safety of her sealed helmet, the marine Captain groaned in frustration. It was time to, as the humans put it, try something stupid.
Stepping down past the main gate’s guard post to one of the forward barricades, Evelra came up to stand shoulder to shoulder with Prexith, her current second. The other woman briefly glanced her way before looking back out at the crowd. “You’re getting restless Cap. Gonna rattle the troops if you keep that up.” Evelra chuckled slightly and adjusted the shoulder strap on her rifle. “Just leading from the front, Sarge. Need to keep ‘em inspired. What’s that human phrase, a stiff lower lip?” The younger woman ribbed back before falling quiet as she surveyed the mass of silent human protesters before them.
Letting the silence sit for a minute, Evelra eventually spoke up again. “Your thoughts, Sergeant?” She asked, the unspoken subject of her question spread out before them. There was an introspective grunt as Prexith took a moment to gather her thoughts. “Well, to correctly quote a human phrase, you’re stuck between a rock and a hard place. Following the Governess’ ‘requests’ to the letter would be tantamount to career suicide.”
“And if she makes them an official order?...” Evelra interjected.
“Then you’re both fucked.” Prex replied without hesitation.
The marine captain let out a low, disgusted groan of irritation. “Sounds about right. And here I thought my parentage would be enough to keep me out of politics.” Resisting the urge to try and rub her face through her helmet, Evelra continued. “So, you think there’s any insurgents out there?”
Prex harrumphed. “Wouldn’t surprise me, but I doubt they’re here to do anything more than participate as legitimate protesters or play at being ‘security.’ Nobody’s been randomly shooting at us around here in years, even with things deteriorating as they have been.” The sergeant paused, cocking her head to one side. “Why?”
Evelra unslung her rifle and passed it to Prex. “Hold on to this for me. I’ve got a bad idea, and you just convinced me it might just not be a suicidal one.”
Prexith balked for a moment, face unreadable through the tint of her helmet’s visor. “Cap, words like that tend to make your subordinates very nervous. Care to explain yourself?” The sergeant growled, trying to push the rifle back to her superior.
“Just trying to find a peaceful solution before somebody does something stupid.”
For a few more seconds Prex hesitated before slowly relenting as she took the rifle. “Alright, fine. Don’t you dare go getting yourself killed. Last thing I want is to end up taking orders from some puffed up lieutenant who’s got more noble lineage than brains.”
Stepping past the forward barricades, Evelra took her helmet off and looked over her shoulder at the woman who’d tempered her academy training with years of actual experience, a wry smile on her face. “You know better than to ask for something like that. Command of the Mansion’s defenses is yours. So keep things lashed down for a minute here, will you?”
= = =
Watching the Purp in the armored catsuit take her helmet off through the scope of his rifle, the man paused to consider the situation. Years ago, back in the resistance’s early heydays, he would have just taken the shot without a second thought. An officer without a helmet was an obvious target. Now though, things were… complicated.
Sure, with the economy’s recovery and all the new toys the invaders had given them, new bullets and even guns were easy enough to make, but that came with its own problems. The Purps had come to be frustratingly good at tracking down where homegrown weapons and ammo had been manufactured. Every manufacturer they traced cost the resistance. A resistance that no longer had people to spare.
Gone were the days where you could just recruit a bunch of lowlifes from your local dive bar to break the front lines. Imperial healthcare, both mental and physical, was almost a universal thing on earth now. Climate change? An old memory. While there were still humans living below the poverty line, the global percentage was less than a third of what it had been before the invasion. For the common man, the benefits of subservience had come to outweigh the sting of subjugation.
Any real sense of passion for human independence was now well and truly dead. It had either been jaded over in the face of reality or burned out at the business end of a laser rifle. As much as the man didn’t want to admit it, he knew better than to blame the average Shil for what their empire did. In the light of recent years, his own distant memories of Iraq and Afghanistan were a bitter pill to swallow on the best of nights. Too many of them were only soldiers, mere cogs in the machine, just like he had been.
So the man simply watched and waited; his finger gently resting outside the trigger well.
= = =
It was a short walk across the street to the protesters, just barely enough time for Evelra to organize her thoughts. Selecting a random human, the marine captain strode up and knelt down in front of him. “I need to speak to whoever is in charge of organizing this protest please.” A sullen pair of eyes stared back in wary silence. She took a deep breath and tried again. “Please, it’s important. The safety of everyone here is at stake.”
Time seemed to stretch on in agonizing slowness until the male finally sighed and reached into one of his many pockets to pull out a tiny pre-liberation phone. Flipping the thing open, Evelra watched as he rapidly tapped away at its even smaller buttons, his thumbs a brief blur. With a final jab at what she assumed was the ‘send’ key, he flipped the phone shut, put it back into his pocket and returned to staring at her in silence. The marine gave a sigh of her own and settled down cross-legged in front of him; helmet in her lap. This was probably going to take a bit.
While she waited, Evelra did her best not to stare. It wasn’t the easiest thing to do though. So many human males rocked the tomgirl stereotype to perfection and the man in front of her was no exception. Torn “jeans,” a metal studded vest and local footwear blended well with a more galactically standard shirt, even if it was a bit on the provocative side. The marine flushed slightly and looked away again. The low cut “V” of his shirt was enticing to look at, but it also continued to draw her eyes to the runes written across his sternum in the color of human blood: “Eyes up, hands off.”
“I… I’m sorry.” Evelra found herself saying, the words coming unbidden to her lips, the male in front of her arching a questioning eyebrow in response. “For that being necessary.” She explained, gesturing to the writing on his chest which earned her a slow nod of acknowledgement. “Was… was it prompted by anything recent?” She asked hesitantly, already guessing the answer. Another nod. “Fuck.” The marine captain sighed, rubbing the back of her head. “Was it any of my girls? The marines?” A shake this time. Evelra sighed again, this time in bitter relief. “Well, I suppose that’s something. Maybe mandating all that etiquette training is actually paying off.”
Lapsing back into silence, Evelra absently fiddled with her helmet as she tried to find a better place for her eyes to rest. She couldn’t meet his gaze. While it wasn’t filled with hate, the silent frustrated rage in it was just too much to handle. Looking down came with its own set of problems, so she settled for letting her eyes pass back and forth over the crowd before her. Before too long though, biology took over and she found herself chest gazing once more.
“I…” The marine captain started in lamely again, stumbling over her words. By the deeps Ev,’ You’ve been on the planet of warrior princes for more than a single tour now, why the fuck can’t you talk to boys yet? Say something damnit! She thought to herself. Taking a deep breath, she cleared her mind and pressed forward.
“I’m sorry. Really. I just hope you know that we’re not all… like that.”
The words felt like ash in her mouth the moment they left her lips. Ev’, you did not just tell a boy that. Of course he knows. But that wasn’t the point, was it? The Shil’vati woman mentally berated herself as she braced for the male’s backlash. Instead, she blinked in confusion as she watched him open his mouth to say something, only to awkwardly look away with a flush before slowly closing up the front of his shirt; eyes firmly locked on the ground.
Before Evelra had time to parse any of it together, there was a soft vibrating buzz from the male’s vest. Clearly happy for the distraction, he hastily whipped the phone back out and opened it; his eyes briefly twitching back and forth as he read. Clambering to his feet, he quickly looked over the amassed crowd of protesters before pointing roughly towards the center of it all.
Standing up as well, the marine’s gaze followed the direction of his finger. Off into the middle of all this. Figures. Here’s to hoping you’re reading the winds right on this one. Evelra thought as she let out a nervous breath. “Thank you.” She said over her shoulder as she stepped past the protester and deeper into the crowd.
With her helmet clipped to her waist, Evelra carefully picked her way through the morass of protesters. Thanks to the sheer density of the crowd, it proved to be slow going, the marine doing her utmost to not step on any of the seated humans. Closely watching where she was walking also made it easier to ignore their stares.
“Over here!” An elderly voice called out. Turning, she could just see hand waving through the sea of protest signs. As she walked towards the speaker, the seated humans scooted out of her path, narrowly parting like a shoal of fish before her. Making her way over, Evelra came up to an elderly man seated on a couple of folded up jackets. Calmly looking up at her, he gestured to a small opening on the ground in front of him. Gingerly settling down cross-legged in the opening, the marine captain took another, closer look at one who’d organized all of this.
He was older than she’d initially thought, Evelra realized. The elder’s face was creased with long, deep wrinkles that crinkled and shifted as his expression changed while jowls hung loose from the bottom of his face. His short, tightly curled hair had faded to an almost pure shade of white, sharply contrasting the dark tone of his skin. Yet the brown eyes that stared back at her still had much of their youthful sharpness; merely tempered by experience rather than weathered by age.
“I’m Isaiah. I heard there was some kind of emergency, a big safety issue?” He said, his tone rough but quiet with a gentle sort of faded strength. The elder promptly got down to business as he spoke, a fist bump already extended.
“Captain Evelra… and it sounds like there was a slight miscommunication. Not an emergency, but this is important.” She replied, lightly tapping his knuckles with her own. “The governess is getting restless. I’m worried she may rashly issue… questionable orders under the circumstances. I was hoping to find a way to resolve this peacefully before the situation unravels any further.” She said a little slowly, carefully minding her word choice.
“Can you do anything to give us a say in how things are run?” Isaiah asked simply, to which Evelra gave a slight grimace and glanced away.
“Well, no. But-”
“Then there ain’t nothing to be done here.” The elder interrupted her, his words calm, but blunt.
“But people are going to get hurt if I don’t find a way to deescalate the situation!” She growled in frustration.
“Deescalate? What’s there to deescalate? The governess’s ego?” Isaiah shot back dryly. When Evelra looked down at the ground with a flush of embarrassment, the elder sighed and after a moment reached out a hand to pat one of the fists she had clenched in her lap. “Sorry, I guess I’ve just seen too damn much of this shit. I appreciate your concern, but we ain’t gonna budge.”
“I… Why?” Was all she could manage to say. Isaiah’s face hardened as his eyes grew distant.
“Because I remember how bad it was back then and I don’t like how close some things are looking to that now.” When Evelra tilted her head to the side in confusion, he took a slow breath and continued. “You study your local history at all?”
The marine captain gave an awkward shrug. “A bit. Probably not as much as I should have.”
“You know what the civil rights movement was?”
Evelra nodded, thankful she could remember the basics from her officer’s orientation prior to arriving on Earth. “More or less. It was the movement that ended discrimination based on local culture and skin tone. But, wasn’t that resolved almost over thirty, er… fifty local years… ago.” The captain stumbled to a halt as the pieces fell into place in her mind, implications and all.
A silence hung in the air for a moment as Evelra struggled to find the will to meet Isaiah’s gaze. “Are we… In your eyes, is the Imperium truly that bad?” She asked with trepidation, bracing for his answer.
The elder sighed again, the noise bordering on a tired groan as he slumped slightly. “Honestly? In a lot of ways, no, you’re not. I got a lot of friends who wouldn’t still be here if it weren’t for your doctors. Hell, you big purple ladies are the only reason I can walk right again.” Isaiah admitted, rapping his leg to the sound of a dull metallic thunk. With a start and an even closer look at him, Evelra realized that he was wearing a medical mobility exoskeleton underneath his traditional human formalwear.
“However…” Isaiah growled, jolting the captain’s attention back to the conversation at hand. “In some ways you’re worse. Sure, you help, but you never ask first; like you’re a parent talking down to a child. And we ain’t children. There are never any questions about how your big, sweeping changes can be adjusted to better meet our actual needs; just orders, a deadline and whatever ya’ll think is suitable compensation. It’s like living in a cage. Sure, you’ve lined the bars in gold and given it the best padding you can, but that don’t change what it is.”
Taking a deep breath, he glowered at her for a moment before continuing.
“And now we’re expected to send our sons and daughters to go die in your war? No. I don’t think so. You want us to serve your empire? Then make us a proper part of it, damn it! No token lip service or meaningless ‘advisory positions,’ give us an actual seat at the table and a real say in how things are run around here or this-” Isaiah paused to gesture at the sea of protesters around them. “-is just gonna keep happening!”
Evelra opened her mouth to try and say something, but no words came forth. He was right, there wasn’t anything she could do. And yet, she still had to do something. Earth was a part of the Empire, and as such the people here were its citizens, citizens she had sworn to serve and protect.
“Look, I’ll-” The marine captain came up short as the helmet clipped to her waist started to buzz with active communications. “Excuse me one moment.” She apologized to the elder as she slipped the piece of armor onto her head. Not bothering to seal it she activated her mike. “Captain Evelra here. Sitrep.”
“Captain, this is Lieutenant Eleynor. Were we expecting reinforcements?” The junior officer’s voice came through with a hint of confusion.
Reinforcements? Evelra blinked, her frustration with the unblooded officer’s floundering overridden by her own confusion. “No. I wasn’t informed of anything of the sort. Give me a sitrep Lieutenant.” She commanded again.
“Ma’am. I’ve got three pods of the governess’s private native militia here and a Sergeant… Aleksander with orders from the governess to relieve us.” Eleynor responded quickly, snapping back to that practiced formal military cadence. At her words, Evelra felt a lump of dread form unbidden in her gut.
“I have received no such orders Lieutenant. Hold your position.” The Captain barked over the comms before muting her mike and returning her attention to Isaiah. “Apologies, but there’s…” Evelra started to say, only to trail off as the Lieutenant started talking again, seemingly having forgotten to mute herself.
“Excuse me Sergeant, but we haven’t received… Wait, what are you…”
A sudden dirge of terrified screaming echoed in Evelra’s helmet; both from across the boulevard and through the open comms channel. From down a side street and around the corner of a building where Eleynor’s pod was stationed, she caught sight of a sudden sputtering flare of harsh orange light.
“Goddess. No…” The Lieutenant murmured, the stunned whisper barely coming though the headset.
“Deep, girl; what the fuck is going on over there!?” Evelra roared, clambering to her feet as she watched a visible wave of panic ripple outwards through the crowd from her subordinate’s position.
“They opened fire on the crowd.” She replied numbly.
= = =
(Part two tomorrow...)
submitted by CatsInTrenchcoats to Sexyspacebabes [link] [comments]
CW for brief graphic violence.
Enjoy~
= = =
The silence was deafening. In all of her time on Earth, Evelra had seen more than her fair share of human riots, protests and civil unrest, but this was something else. For the fourth day in a row now, protesters had packed themselves together like fish at the market, filling the massive four-lane boulevard leading up to the governess’s estate. One of the early counts had placed some three thousand plus humans out there, and by her own estimate that number had at least doubled since then. When she had followed her orders and commanded the crowd to disperse over the loudspeakers, they had, almost in unison, sat down on the ground. That had been an hour ago. Since then, the governess’s insistence that she “do something” about them had only grown more and more rabid.
A brief glance up and down the front of the governess’s estate simply reconfirmed what Evelra already knew: The humans were staying on the other side of the street, leaving an empty road between them and the mansion. All in clear accordance with security regulations.
What felt like a million eyes glared up at her and the rest of the marines in silence. Many had covered their mouths with humanity’s seemingly ubiquitous ‘duct tape,’ while others merely wore cold stone-faced expressions. Sticking up out of the crowd were a plethora of signs, mostly in Shil’vati runes, but English lettering was dotted around as well. “No Voice, No Labor.” Was the most common sign, and certainly the nicest of them. Evelra suppressed a sigh and considered how in the deep they had gotten to this point.
The War was going poorly. Nobody wanted to admit it, but the Empire was hemorrhaging at the seams. Initial strikes had gone well, but the Alliance was massive. Every liberated world meant another garrison had to be established; and while some accepted the uplifting stability Imperial citizenship offered, most did not. Supply lines were stretched thin and even the vaunted Imperial Navy and their Marines couldn’t be everywhere at once. Simply put, the numbers weren’t adding up.
And all the while, Humanity bled.
“Captain? The governess’ demands, we aren’t going to?...” The voice of Eleynor, one of Evelra’s lieutenants and leader of Pod 7 cut through her thoughts. Over the officer’s comm channel, the other woman’s voice was rife with nervousness. There were more than a few boyfriends out in that crowd. No garrison wanted to be the first to buckle, to acquiesce; nor did they wish to be responsible for carrying out atrocities.
“No. We will not.” she replied in as steely of a tone as she could manage. The line was silent for a moment before her subordinate quietly spoke up again. “Good.”
As the line went dead, Evelra finally let out a sigh. As much as she agreed with the lieutenant’s morals, she still had to fulfill her directives and clear out this protest; regardless of the governess’s madness. Behind the sound-proofed safety of her sealed helmet, the marine Captain groaned in frustration. It was time to, as the humans put it, try something stupid.
Stepping down past the main gate’s guard post to one of the forward barricades, Evelra came up to stand shoulder to shoulder with Prexith, her current second. The other woman briefly glanced her way before looking back out at the crowd. “You’re getting restless Cap. Gonna rattle the troops if you keep that up.” Evelra chuckled slightly and adjusted the shoulder strap on her rifle. “Just leading from the front, Sarge. Need to keep ‘em inspired. What’s that human phrase, a stiff lower lip?” The younger woman ribbed back before falling quiet as she surveyed the mass of silent human protesters before them.
Letting the silence sit for a minute, Evelra eventually spoke up again. “Your thoughts, Sergeant?” She asked, the unspoken subject of her question spread out before them. There was an introspective grunt as Prexith took a moment to gather her thoughts. “Well, to correctly quote a human phrase, you’re stuck between a rock and a hard place. Following the Governess’ ‘requests’ to the letter would be tantamount to career suicide.”
“And if she makes them an official order?...” Evelra interjected.
“Then you’re both fucked.” Prex replied without hesitation.
The marine captain let out a low, disgusted groan of irritation. “Sounds about right. And here I thought my parentage would be enough to keep me out of politics.” Resisting the urge to try and rub her face through her helmet, Evelra continued. “So, you think there’s any insurgents out there?”
Prex harrumphed. “Wouldn’t surprise me, but I doubt they’re here to do anything more than participate as legitimate protesters or play at being ‘security.’ Nobody’s been randomly shooting at us around here in years, even with things deteriorating as they have been.” The sergeant paused, cocking her head to one side. “Why?”
Evelra unslung her rifle and passed it to Prex. “Hold on to this for me. I’ve got a bad idea, and you just convinced me it might just not be a suicidal one.”
Prexith balked for a moment, face unreadable through the tint of her helmet’s visor. “Cap, words like that tend to make your subordinates very nervous. Care to explain yourself?” The sergeant growled, trying to push the rifle back to her superior.
“Just trying to find a peaceful solution before somebody does something stupid.”
For a few more seconds Prex hesitated before slowly relenting as she took the rifle. “Alright, fine. Don’t you dare go getting yourself killed. Last thing I want is to end up taking orders from some puffed up lieutenant who’s got more noble lineage than brains.”
Stepping past the forward barricades, Evelra took her helmet off and looked over her shoulder at the woman who’d tempered her academy training with years of actual experience, a wry smile on her face. “You know better than to ask for something like that. Command of the Mansion’s defenses is yours. So keep things lashed down for a minute here, will you?”
= = =
Watching the Purp in the armored catsuit take her helmet off through the scope of his rifle, the man paused to consider the situation. Years ago, back in the resistance’s early heydays, he would have just taken the shot without a second thought. An officer without a helmet was an obvious target. Now though, things were… complicated.
Sure, with the economy’s recovery and all the new toys the invaders had given them, new bullets and even guns were easy enough to make, but that came with its own problems. The Purps had come to be frustratingly good at tracking down where homegrown weapons and ammo had been manufactured. Every manufacturer they traced cost the resistance. A resistance that no longer had people to spare.
Gone were the days where you could just recruit a bunch of lowlifes from your local dive bar to break the front lines. Imperial healthcare, both mental and physical, was almost a universal thing on earth now. Climate change? An old memory. While there were still humans living below the poverty line, the global percentage was less than a third of what it had been before the invasion. For the common man, the benefits of subservience had come to outweigh the sting of subjugation.
Any real sense of passion for human independence was now well and truly dead. It had either been jaded over in the face of reality or burned out at the business end of a laser rifle. As much as the man didn’t want to admit it, he knew better than to blame the average Shil for what their empire did. In the light of recent years, his own distant memories of Iraq and Afghanistan were a bitter pill to swallow on the best of nights. Too many of them were only soldiers, mere cogs in the machine, just like he had been.
So the man simply watched and waited; his finger gently resting outside the trigger well.
= = =
It was a short walk across the street to the protesters, just barely enough time for Evelra to organize her thoughts. Selecting a random human, the marine captain strode up and knelt down in front of him. “I need to speak to whoever is in charge of organizing this protest please.” A sullen pair of eyes stared back in wary silence. She took a deep breath and tried again. “Please, it’s important. The safety of everyone here is at stake.”
Time seemed to stretch on in agonizing slowness until the male finally sighed and reached into one of his many pockets to pull out a tiny pre-liberation phone. Flipping the thing open, Evelra watched as he rapidly tapped away at its even smaller buttons, his thumbs a brief blur. With a final jab at what she assumed was the ‘send’ key, he flipped the phone shut, put it back into his pocket and returned to staring at her in silence. The marine gave a sigh of her own and settled down cross-legged in front of him; helmet in her lap. This was probably going to take a bit.
While she waited, Evelra did her best not to stare. It wasn’t the easiest thing to do though. So many human males rocked the tomgirl stereotype to perfection and the man in front of her was no exception. Torn “jeans,” a metal studded vest and local footwear blended well with a more galactically standard shirt, even if it was a bit on the provocative side. The marine flushed slightly and looked away again. The low cut “V” of his shirt was enticing to look at, but it also continued to draw her eyes to the runes written across his sternum in the color of human blood: “Eyes up, hands off.”
“I… I’m sorry.” Evelra found herself saying, the words coming unbidden to her lips, the male in front of her arching a questioning eyebrow in response. “For that being necessary.” She explained, gesturing to the writing on his chest which earned her a slow nod of acknowledgement. “Was… was it prompted by anything recent?” She asked hesitantly, already guessing the answer. Another nod. “Fuck.” The marine captain sighed, rubbing the back of her head. “Was it any of my girls? The marines?” A shake this time. Evelra sighed again, this time in bitter relief. “Well, I suppose that’s something. Maybe mandating all that etiquette training is actually paying off.”
Lapsing back into silence, Evelra absently fiddled with her helmet as she tried to find a better place for her eyes to rest. She couldn’t meet his gaze. While it wasn’t filled with hate, the silent frustrated rage in it was just too much to handle. Looking down came with its own set of problems, so she settled for letting her eyes pass back and forth over the crowd before her. Before too long though, biology took over and she found herself chest gazing once more.
“I…” The marine captain started in lamely again, stumbling over her words. By the deeps Ev,’ You’ve been on the planet of warrior princes for more than a single tour now, why the fuck can’t you talk to boys yet? Say something damnit! She thought to herself. Taking a deep breath, she cleared her mind and pressed forward.
“I’m sorry. Really. I just hope you know that we’re not all… like that.”
The words felt like ash in her mouth the moment they left her lips. Ev’, you did not just tell a boy that. Of course he knows. But that wasn’t the point, was it? The Shil’vati woman mentally berated herself as she braced for the male’s backlash. Instead, she blinked in confusion as she watched him open his mouth to say something, only to awkwardly look away with a flush before slowly closing up the front of his shirt; eyes firmly locked on the ground.
Before Evelra had time to parse any of it together, there was a soft vibrating buzz from the male’s vest. Clearly happy for the distraction, he hastily whipped the phone back out and opened it; his eyes briefly twitching back and forth as he read. Clambering to his feet, he quickly looked over the amassed crowd of protesters before pointing roughly towards the center of it all.
Standing up as well, the marine’s gaze followed the direction of his finger. Off into the middle of all this. Figures. Here’s to hoping you’re reading the winds right on this one. Evelra thought as she let out a nervous breath. “Thank you.” She said over her shoulder as she stepped past the protester and deeper into the crowd.
With her helmet clipped to her waist, Evelra carefully picked her way through the morass of protesters. Thanks to the sheer density of the crowd, it proved to be slow going, the marine doing her utmost to not step on any of the seated humans. Closely watching where she was walking also made it easier to ignore their stares.
“Over here!” An elderly voice called out. Turning, she could just see hand waving through the sea of protest signs. As she walked towards the speaker, the seated humans scooted out of her path, narrowly parting like a shoal of fish before her. Making her way over, Evelra came up to an elderly man seated on a couple of folded up jackets. Calmly looking up at her, he gestured to a small opening on the ground in front of him. Gingerly settling down cross-legged in the opening, the marine captain took another, closer look at one who’d organized all of this.
He was older than she’d initially thought, Evelra realized. The elder’s face was creased with long, deep wrinkles that crinkled and shifted as his expression changed while jowls hung loose from the bottom of his face. His short, tightly curled hair had faded to an almost pure shade of white, sharply contrasting the dark tone of his skin. Yet the brown eyes that stared back at her still had much of their youthful sharpness; merely tempered by experience rather than weathered by age.
“I’m Isaiah. I heard there was some kind of emergency, a big safety issue?” He said, his tone rough but quiet with a gentle sort of faded strength. The elder promptly got down to business as he spoke, a fist bump already extended.
“Captain Evelra… and it sounds like there was a slight miscommunication. Not an emergency, but this is important.” She replied, lightly tapping his knuckles with her own. “The governess is getting restless. I’m worried she may rashly issue… questionable orders under the circumstances. I was hoping to find a way to resolve this peacefully before the situation unravels any further.” She said a little slowly, carefully minding her word choice.
“Can you do anything to give us a say in how things are run?” Isaiah asked simply, to which Evelra gave a slight grimace and glanced away.
“Well, no. But-”
“Then there ain’t nothing to be done here.” The elder interrupted her, his words calm, but blunt.
“But people are going to get hurt if I don’t find a way to deescalate the situation!” She growled in frustration.
“Deescalate? What’s there to deescalate? The governess’s ego?” Isaiah shot back dryly. When Evelra looked down at the ground with a flush of embarrassment, the elder sighed and after a moment reached out a hand to pat one of the fists she had clenched in her lap. “Sorry, I guess I’ve just seen too damn much of this shit. I appreciate your concern, but we ain’t gonna budge.”
“I… Why?” Was all she could manage to say. Isaiah’s face hardened as his eyes grew distant.
“Because I remember how bad it was back then and I don’t like how close some things are looking to that now.” When Evelra tilted her head to the side in confusion, he took a slow breath and continued. “You study your local history at all?”
The marine captain gave an awkward shrug. “A bit. Probably not as much as I should have.”
“You know what the civil rights movement was?”
Evelra nodded, thankful she could remember the basics from her officer’s orientation prior to arriving on Earth. “More or less. It was the movement that ended discrimination based on local culture and skin tone. But, wasn’t that resolved almost over thirty, er… fifty local years… ago.” The captain stumbled to a halt as the pieces fell into place in her mind, implications and all.
A silence hung in the air for a moment as Evelra struggled to find the will to meet Isaiah’s gaze. “Are we… In your eyes, is the Imperium truly that bad?” She asked with trepidation, bracing for his answer.
The elder sighed again, the noise bordering on a tired groan as he slumped slightly. “Honestly? In a lot of ways, no, you’re not. I got a lot of friends who wouldn’t still be here if it weren’t for your doctors. Hell, you big purple ladies are the only reason I can walk right again.” Isaiah admitted, rapping his leg to the sound of a dull metallic thunk. With a start and an even closer look at him, Evelra realized that he was wearing a medical mobility exoskeleton underneath his traditional human formalwear.
“However…” Isaiah growled, jolting the captain’s attention back to the conversation at hand. “In some ways you’re worse. Sure, you help, but you never ask first; like you’re a parent talking down to a child. And we ain’t children. There are never any questions about how your big, sweeping changes can be adjusted to better meet our actual needs; just orders, a deadline and whatever ya’ll think is suitable compensation. It’s like living in a cage. Sure, you’ve lined the bars in gold and given it the best padding you can, but that don’t change what it is.”
Taking a deep breath, he glowered at her for a moment before continuing.
“And now we’re expected to send our sons and daughters to go die in your war? No. I don’t think so. You want us to serve your empire? Then make us a proper part of it, damn it! No token lip service or meaningless ‘advisory positions,’ give us an actual seat at the table and a real say in how things are run around here or this-” Isaiah paused to gesture at the sea of protesters around them. “-is just gonna keep happening!”
Evelra opened her mouth to try and say something, but no words came forth. He was right, there wasn’t anything she could do. And yet, she still had to do something. Earth was a part of the Empire, and as such the people here were its citizens, citizens she had sworn to serve and protect.
“Look, I’ll-” The marine captain came up short as the helmet clipped to her waist started to buzz with active communications. “Excuse me one moment.” She apologized to the elder as she slipped the piece of armor onto her head. Not bothering to seal it she activated her mike. “Captain Evelra here. Sitrep.”
“Captain, this is Lieutenant Eleynor. Were we expecting reinforcements?” The junior officer’s voice came through with a hint of confusion.
Reinforcements? Evelra blinked, her frustration with the unblooded officer’s floundering overridden by her own confusion. “No. I wasn’t informed of anything of the sort. Give me a sitrep Lieutenant.” She commanded again.
“Ma’am. I’ve got three pods of the governess’s private native militia here and a Sergeant… Aleksander with orders from the governess to relieve us.” Eleynor responded quickly, snapping back to that practiced formal military cadence. At her words, Evelra felt a lump of dread form unbidden in her gut.
“I have received no such orders Lieutenant. Hold your position.” The Captain barked over the comms before muting her mike and returning her attention to Isaiah. “Apologies, but there’s…” Evelra started to say, only to trail off as the Lieutenant started talking again, seemingly having forgotten to mute herself.
“Excuse me Sergeant, but we haven’t received… Wait, what are you…”
A sudden dirge of terrified screaming echoed in Evelra’s helmet; both from across the boulevard and through the open comms channel. From down a side street and around the corner of a building where Eleynor’s pod was stationed, she caught sight of a sudden sputtering flare of harsh orange light.
“Goddess. No…” The Lieutenant murmured, the stunned whisper barely coming though the headset.
“Deep, girl; what the fuck is going on over there!?” Evelra roared, clambering to her feet as she watched a visible wave of panic ripple outwards through the crowd from her subordinate’s position.
“They opened fire on the crowd.” She replied numbly.
= = =
(Part two tomorrow...)
2023.05.28 23:53 ChunkeeMunkee3001 New PC build - Start menu, browsers, games keep closing themselves!
Hi all!
I've encountered a really bizarre issue with a PC I put together for my daughter's birthday, and have been tearing my hair out for the past 2 weeks trying to get to the bottom of what might be causing it.
It'll only be used for school work and light gaming, and so I decided to go for an AMD APU setup. The PC was put together using all-new parts, and is specced as follows:
AMD Ryzen 7 5700G
AsRock A520M HDV MicroATX Motherboard
Kingston FURY Beast 16GB (2 x 8GB) 3200MHz DDR4
Patriot P300 M.2 PCIe Gen 3 x4 256GB NVMe Drive
Corsair CP-9020101-UK CX450M 450 W 80+ Bronze PSU
Generic brand dual-band Wi-Fi/Bluetooth card
DEEPCOOL MATREXX 40 3FS Mini Tower case
Everything went off without a hitch initially, and my daughter was happily playing games on it for a couple of days, but then started mentioning that games were closing themselves. I took a look for myself, and found that the Start button didn't always respond when clicked, and when it did actually open it tended to close itself again in 1-5 seconds. Browsers (Edge and Chrome) also started to either close themselves or hit an error page with a "STATUS_ACCESS_VIOLATION" message, and her games (Minecraft, Star Stable, and Roblox) all close themselves anywhere from straight away on launch up to 5 minutes of play. I've also noticed that system menus like the Windows Settings and Updates pages tend to vanish after a short while too.
The version of Win10 Home I installed was one I'd grabbed from the Windows Media Creation Tool years ago and was quite out of date, meaning it needed a number of updates once installed. I'm not sure if it's coincidence, but on the further two times I reinstalled this version it felt like the Start menu issue didn't occur until after updating the OS. I have also tried downloading a fresh version of Win10 Home through the Microsoft Media Creation Tool and installing that - same issue.
My troubleshooting steps so far:
Reinstalled Win10 Home multiple times from two different installers (one old, one fresh as of yesterday),
Uplugged the keyboard, then the mouse, then both and tried another set (in case of cheap keyboard weirdness), plus tried switching from the board USB ports to the case ports,
Re-seated the RAM,
Tried one RAM stick only in slot 2, then 1, then repeated with the other stick,
Tried a stick of DDR4 3200 RAM from another PC in either slot,
Ran a Windows Memory Diagnostic (clear),
Removed the Wi-Fi card, then the HD Audio header, then the case USB 2.0 and 3.1 headers,
Updated the board's BIOS from 2.10 to 2.73, then back to 1.60 as per ASRock's CPU compatability table,
Updated all relevant chipset and APU graphics drivers,
Double-checked all overclocking is off in BIOS, including XMP (found after a Google search that the "STATUS_ACCESS_VIOLATION" in Chrome and Edge might be OC related),
Tried installing Windows to a different, older PC (didn't seem to exhibit the same issue, but the system as a whole is ancient so difficult to distinguish chug from outright failure!),
Removed the motherboard from the case and reconnected the power, HDMI, and keyboard/mouse to check for case shorts.
One thing I had observed was that the initial troubles started around the time we installed Minecraft, as it seems that logging into her Microsoft account through the MC launcher woke up the long-thought-dead beast that is Microsoft Family Safety. This horrible piece of software near crippled her older sister's PC in the past and was a PITA to remove, and on this new PC it initially limited her access to Chrome. I relaxed the settings and thought that was that, but now these new issues seem to have emerged. Is it possible that Microsoft are still screwing with her system, even after multiple re-installs of Windows?
I also noticed that every time the Start menu does open, there's a brief flash of the blue Windows loading wheel next to the mouse pointer, and then the menu vanishes again! I've tried to catch what this might be in the Task Manager but no joy - however the StartMenuExperienceHost.exe does list in the system as having experienced a crash each time.
I can now only assume it's something to do with the motherboard or CPU, but have no clue how I could test for this. I'm absolutely lost for ideas, and really getting quite dispondant now as not only is this my daughter's birthday present that's been pretty much unusable for the past couple of weeks, but also because I've built probably a couple of dozen or so PCs in my time, and not once have I come across such an elusive issue as this.
Any help or ideas would be hugely appreciated!
submitted by ChunkeeMunkee3001 to techsupport [link] [comments]
I've encountered a really bizarre issue with a PC I put together for my daughter's birthday, and have been tearing my hair out for the past 2 weeks trying to get to the bottom of what might be causing it.
It'll only be used for school work and light gaming, and so I decided to go for an AMD APU setup. The PC was put together using all-new parts, and is specced as follows:
AMD Ryzen 7 5700G
AsRock A520M HDV MicroATX Motherboard
Kingston FURY Beast 16GB (2 x 8GB) 3200MHz DDR4
Patriot P300 M.2 PCIe Gen 3 x4 256GB NVMe Drive
Corsair CP-9020101-UK CX450M 450 W 80+ Bronze PSU
Generic brand dual-band Wi-Fi/Bluetooth card
DEEPCOOL MATREXX 40 3FS Mini Tower case
Everything went off without a hitch initially, and my daughter was happily playing games on it for a couple of days, but then started mentioning that games were closing themselves. I took a look for myself, and found that the Start button didn't always respond when clicked, and when it did actually open it tended to close itself again in 1-5 seconds. Browsers (Edge and Chrome) also started to either close themselves or hit an error page with a "STATUS_ACCESS_VIOLATION" message, and her games (Minecraft, Star Stable, and Roblox) all close themselves anywhere from straight away on launch up to 5 minutes of play. I've also noticed that system menus like the Windows Settings and Updates pages tend to vanish after a short while too.
The version of Win10 Home I installed was one I'd grabbed from the Windows Media Creation Tool years ago and was quite out of date, meaning it needed a number of updates once installed. I'm not sure if it's coincidence, but on the further two times I reinstalled this version it felt like the Start menu issue didn't occur until after updating the OS. I have also tried downloading a fresh version of Win10 Home through the Microsoft Media Creation Tool and installing that - same issue.
My troubleshooting steps so far:
Reinstalled Win10 Home multiple times from two different installers (one old, one fresh as of yesterday),
Uplugged the keyboard, then the mouse, then both and tried another set (in case of cheap keyboard weirdness), plus tried switching from the board USB ports to the case ports,
Re-seated the RAM,
Tried one RAM stick only in slot 2, then 1, then repeated with the other stick,
Tried a stick of DDR4 3200 RAM from another PC in either slot,
Ran a Windows Memory Diagnostic (clear),
Removed the Wi-Fi card, then the HD Audio header, then the case USB 2.0 and 3.1 headers,
Updated the board's BIOS from 2.10 to 2.73, then back to 1.60 as per ASRock's CPU compatability table,
Updated all relevant chipset and APU graphics drivers,
Double-checked all overclocking is off in BIOS, including XMP (found after a Google search that the "STATUS_ACCESS_VIOLATION" in Chrome and Edge might be OC related),
Tried installing Windows to a different, older PC (didn't seem to exhibit the same issue, but the system as a whole is ancient so difficult to distinguish chug from outright failure!),
Removed the motherboard from the case and reconnected the power, HDMI, and keyboard/mouse to check for case shorts.
One thing I had observed was that the initial troubles started around the time we installed Minecraft, as it seems that logging into her Microsoft account through the MC launcher woke up the long-thought-dead beast that is Microsoft Family Safety. This horrible piece of software near crippled her older sister's PC in the past and was a PITA to remove, and on this new PC it initially limited her access to Chrome. I relaxed the settings and thought that was that, but now these new issues seem to have emerged. Is it possible that Microsoft are still screwing with her system, even after multiple re-installs of Windows?
I also noticed that every time the Start menu does open, there's a brief flash of the blue Windows loading wheel next to the mouse pointer, and then the menu vanishes again! I've tried to catch what this might be in the Task Manager but no joy - however the StartMenuExperienceHost.exe does list in the system as having experienced a crash each time.
I can now only assume it's something to do with the motherboard or CPU, but have no clue how I could test for this. I'm absolutely lost for ideas, and really getting quite dispondant now as not only is this my daughter's birthday present that's been pretty much unusable for the past couple of weeks, but also because I've built probably a couple of dozen or so PCs in my time, and not once have I come across such an elusive issue as this.
Any help or ideas would be hugely appreciated!
2023.05.28 23:48 ChunkeeMunkee3001 New build - Start menu, browsers, games keep closing themselves!
Hi all!
I've encountered a really bizarre issue with a PC I put together for my daughter's birthday, and have been tearing my hair out for the past 2 weeks trying to get to the bottom of what might be causing it.
It'll only be used for school work and light gaming, and so I decided to go for an AMD APU setup. The PC was put together using all-new parts, and is specced as follows:
AMD Ryzen 7 5700G
AsRock A520M HDV MicroATX Motherboard
Kingston FURY Beast 16GB (2 x 8GB) 3200MHz DDR4
Patriot P300 M.2 PCIe Gen 3 x4 256GB NVMe Drive
Corsair CP-9020101-UK CX450M 450 W 80+ Bronze PSU
Generic brand dual-band Wi-Fi/Bluetooth card
DEEPCOOL MATREXX 40 3FS Mini Tower case
Everything went off without a hitch initially, and my daughter was happily playing games on it for a couple of days, but then started mentioning that games were closing themselves. I took a look for myself, and found that the Start button didn't always respond when clicked, and when it did actually open it tended to close itself again in 1-5 seconds. Browsers (Edge and Chrome) also started to either close themselves or hit an error page with a "STATUS_ACCESS_VIOLATION" message, and her games (Minecraft, Star Stable, and Roblox) all close themselves anywhere from straight away on launch up to 5 minutes of play. I've also noticed that system menus like the Windows Settings and Updates pages tend to vanish after a short while too.
The version of Win10 Home I installed was one I'd grabbed from the Windows Media Creation Tool years ago and was quite out of date, meaning it needed a number of updates once installed. I'm not sure if it's coincidence, but on the further two times I reinstalled this version it felt like the Start menu issue didn't occur until after updating the OS. I have also tried downloading a fresh version of Win10 Home through the Microsoft Media Creation Tool and installing that - same issue.
My troubleshooting steps so far:
Reinstalled Win10 Home multiple times from two different installers (one old, one fresh as of yesterday),
Uplugged the keyboard, then the mouse, then both and tried another set (in case of cheap keyboard weirdness), plus tried switching from the board USB ports to the case ports,
Re-seated the RAM,
Tried one RAM stick only in slot 2, then 1, then repeated with the other stick,
Tried a stick of DDR4 3200 RAM from another PC in either slot,
Ran a Windows Memory Diagnostic (clear),
Removed the Wi-Fi card, then the HD Audio header, then the case USB 2.0 and 3.1 headers,
Updated the board's BIOS from 2.10 to 2.73, then back to 1.60 as per ASRock's CPU compatability table,
Updated all relevant chipset and APU graphics drivers,
Double-checked all overclocking is off in BIOS, including XMP (found after a Google search that the "STATUS_ACCESS_VIOLATION" in Chrome and Edge might be OC related),
Tried installing Windows to a different, older PC (didn't seem to exhibit the same issue, but the system as a whole is ancient so difficult to distinguish chug from outright failure!),
Removed the motherboard from the case and reconnected the power, HDMI, and keyboard/mouse to check for case shorts.
One thing I had observed was that the initial troubles started around the time we installed Minecraft, as it seems that logging into her Microsoft account through the MC launcher woke up the long-thought-dead beast that is Microsoft Family Safety. This horrible piece of software near crippled her older sister's PC in the past and was a PITA to remove, and on this new PC it initially limited her access to Chrome. I relaxed the settings and thought that was that, but now these new issues seem to have emerged. Is it possible that Microsoft are still screwing with her system, even after multiple re-installs of Windows?
I also noticed that every time the Start menu does open, there's a brief flash of the blue Windows loading wheel next to the mouse pointer, and then the menu vanishes again! I've tried to catch what this might be in the Task Manager but no joy - however the StartMenuExperienceHost.exe does list in the system as having experienced a crash each time.
I can now only assume it's something to do with the motherboard or CPU, but have no clue how I could test for this. I'm absolutely lost for ideas, and really getting quite dispondant now as not only is this my daughter's birthday present that's been pretty much unusable for the past couple of weeks, but also because I've built probably a couple of dozen or so PCs in my time, and not once have I come across such an elusive issue as this.
Any help or ideas would be hugely appreciated!
submitted by ChunkeeMunkee3001 to buildapc [link] [comments]
I've encountered a really bizarre issue with a PC I put together for my daughter's birthday, and have been tearing my hair out for the past 2 weeks trying to get to the bottom of what might be causing it.
It'll only be used for school work and light gaming, and so I decided to go for an AMD APU setup. The PC was put together using all-new parts, and is specced as follows:
AMD Ryzen 7 5700G
AsRock A520M HDV MicroATX Motherboard
Kingston FURY Beast 16GB (2 x 8GB) 3200MHz DDR4
Patriot P300 M.2 PCIe Gen 3 x4 256GB NVMe Drive
Corsair CP-9020101-UK CX450M 450 W 80+ Bronze PSU
Generic brand dual-band Wi-Fi/Bluetooth card
DEEPCOOL MATREXX 40 3FS Mini Tower case
Everything went off without a hitch initially, and my daughter was happily playing games on it for a couple of days, but then started mentioning that games were closing themselves. I took a look for myself, and found that the Start button didn't always respond when clicked, and when it did actually open it tended to close itself again in 1-5 seconds. Browsers (Edge and Chrome) also started to either close themselves or hit an error page with a "STATUS_ACCESS_VIOLATION" message, and her games (Minecraft, Star Stable, and Roblox) all close themselves anywhere from straight away on launch up to 5 minutes of play. I've also noticed that system menus like the Windows Settings and Updates pages tend to vanish after a short while too.
The version of Win10 Home I installed was one I'd grabbed from the Windows Media Creation Tool years ago and was quite out of date, meaning it needed a number of updates once installed. I'm not sure if it's coincidence, but on the further two times I reinstalled this version it felt like the Start menu issue didn't occur until after updating the OS. I have also tried downloading a fresh version of Win10 Home through the Microsoft Media Creation Tool and installing that - same issue.
My troubleshooting steps so far:
Reinstalled Win10 Home multiple times from two different installers (one old, one fresh as of yesterday),
Uplugged the keyboard, then the mouse, then both and tried another set (in case of cheap keyboard weirdness), plus tried switching from the board USB ports to the case ports,
Re-seated the RAM,
Tried one RAM stick only in slot 2, then 1, then repeated with the other stick,
Tried a stick of DDR4 3200 RAM from another PC in either slot,
Ran a Windows Memory Diagnostic (clear),
Removed the Wi-Fi card, then the HD Audio header, then the case USB 2.0 and 3.1 headers,
Updated the board's BIOS from 2.10 to 2.73, then back to 1.60 as per ASRock's CPU compatability table,
Updated all relevant chipset and APU graphics drivers,
Double-checked all overclocking is off in BIOS, including XMP (found after a Google search that the "STATUS_ACCESS_VIOLATION" in Chrome and Edge might be OC related),
Tried installing Windows to a different, older PC (didn't seem to exhibit the same issue, but the system as a whole is ancient so difficult to distinguish chug from outright failure!),
Removed the motherboard from the case and reconnected the power, HDMI, and keyboard/mouse to check for case shorts.
One thing I had observed was that the initial troubles started around the time we installed Minecraft, as it seems that logging into her Microsoft account through the MC launcher woke up the long-thought-dead beast that is Microsoft Family Safety. This horrible piece of software near crippled her older sister's PC in the past and was a PITA to remove, and on this new PC it initially limited her access to Chrome. I relaxed the settings and thought that was that, but now these new issues seem to have emerged. Is it possible that Microsoft are still screwing with her system, even after multiple re-installs of Windows?
I also noticed that every time the Start menu does open, there's a brief flash of the blue Windows loading wheel next to the mouse pointer, and then the menu vanishes again! I've tried to catch what this might be in the Task Manager but no joy - however the StartMenuExperienceHost.exe does list in the system as having experienced a crash each time.
I can now only assume it's something to do with the motherboard or CPU, but have no clue how I could test for this. I'm absolutely lost for ideas, and really getting quite dispondant now as not only is this my daughter's birthday present that's been pretty much unusable for the past couple of weeks, but also because I've built probably a couple of dozen or so PCs in my time, and not once have I come across such an elusive issue as this.
Any help or ideas would be hugely appreciated!
2023.05.28 23:46 ChunkeeMunkee3001 New build - Start menu, browsers, games keep closing themselves!
Hi all!
I've encountered a really bizarre issue with a PC I put together for my daughter's birthday, and have been tearing my hair out for the past 2 weeks trying to get to the bottom of what might be causing it.
It'll only be used for school work and light gaming, and so I decided to go for an AMD APU setup. The PC was put together using all-new parts, and is specced as follows:
The version of Win10 Home I installed was one I'd grabbed from the Windows Media Creation Tool years ago and was quite out of date, meaning it needed a number of updates once installed. I'm not sure if it's coincidence, but on the further two times I reinstalled this version it felt like the Start menu issue didn't occur until after updating the OS. I have also tried downloading a fresh version of Win10 Home through the Microsoft Media Creation Tool and installing that - same issue.
My troubleshooting steps so far:
I also noticed that every time the Start menu does open, there's a brief flash of the blue Windows loading wheel next to the mouse pointer, and then the menu vanishes again! I've tried to catch what this might be in the Task Manager but no joy - however the StartMenuExperienceHost.exe does list in the system as having experienced a crash each time.
I can now only assume it's something to do with the motherboard or CPU, but have no clue how I could test for this. I'm absolutely lost for ideas, and really getting quite dispondant now as not only is this my daughter's birthday present that's been pretty much unusable for the past couple of weeks, but also because I've built probably a couple of dozen or so PCs in my time, and not once have I come across such an elusive issue as this.
Any help or ideas would be hugely appreciated!
submitted by ChunkeeMunkee3001 to pcmasterrace [link] [comments]
I've encountered a really bizarre issue with a PC I put together for my daughter's birthday, and have been tearing my hair out for the past 2 weeks trying to get to the bottom of what might be causing it.
It'll only be used for school work and light gaming, and so I decided to go for an AMD APU setup. The PC was put together using all-new parts, and is specced as follows:
- AMD Ryzen 7 5700G
- AsRock A520M HDV MicroATX Motherboard
- Kingston FURY Beast 16GB (2 x 8GB) 3200MHz DDR4
- Patriot P300 M.2 PCIe Gen 3 x4 256GB NVMe Drive
- Corsair CP-9020101-UK CX450M 450 W 80+ Bronze PSU
- Generic brand dual-band Wi-Fi/Bluetooth card
- DEEPCOOL MATREXX 40 3FS Mini Tower case
The version of Win10 Home I installed was one I'd grabbed from the Windows Media Creation Tool years ago and was quite out of date, meaning it needed a number of updates once installed. I'm not sure if it's coincidence, but on the further two times I reinstalled this version it felt like the Start menu issue didn't occur until after updating the OS. I have also tried downloading a fresh version of Win10 Home through the Microsoft Media Creation Tool and installing that - same issue.
My troubleshooting steps so far:
- Reinstalled Win10 Home multiple times from two different installers (one old, one fresh as of yesterday),
- Uplugged the keyboard, then the mouse, then both and tried another set (in case of cheap keyboard weirdness), plus tried switching from the board USB ports to the case ports,
- Re-seated the RAM,
- Tried one RAM stick only in slot 2, then 1, then repeated with the other stick,
- Tried a stick of DDR4 3200 RAM from another PC in either slot,
- Ran a Windows Memory Diagnostic (clear),
- Removed the Wi-Fi card, then the HD Audio header, then the case USB 2.0 and 3.1 headers,
- Updated the board's BIOS from 2.10 to 2.73, then back to 1.60 as per ASRock's CPU compatability table,
- Updated all relevant chipset and APU graphics drivers,
- Double-checked all overclocking is off in BIOS, including XMP (found after a Google search that the "STATUS_ACCESS_VIOLATION" in Chrome and Edge might be OC related),
- Tried installing Windows to a different, older PC (didn't seem to exhibit the same issue, but the system as a whole is ancient so difficult to distinguish chug from outright failure!),
- Removed the motherboard from the case and reconnected the power, HDMI, and keyboard/mouse to check for case shorts.
I also noticed that every time the Start menu does open, there's a brief flash of the blue Windows loading wheel next to the mouse pointer, and then the menu vanishes again! I've tried to catch what this might be in the Task Manager but no joy - however the StartMenuExperienceHost.exe does list in the system as having experienced a crash each time.
I can now only assume it's something to do with the motherboard or CPU, but have no clue how I could test for this. I'm absolutely lost for ideas, and really getting quite dispondant now as not only is this my daughter's birthday present that's been pretty much unusable for the past couple of weeks, but also because I've built probably a couple of dozen or so PCs in my time, and not once have I come across such an elusive issue as this.
Any help or ideas would be hugely appreciated!
2023.05.28 23:39 BodieBroadusBurner Trying to avoid “TV too High”
So my wife and I just moved into this house with a great big living room space and have no idea how to finesse this into a welcoming home. I would like to go for a modern look with some green plants and nice rug and coffee table, art, etc. to liven the place up. Our biggest hurdle so far is placement of sofa and TV. Where it is now is the best we could come up with for the moment.
I would like to have more seating other than the sofa, but still have the room feel “open”. If we have to split the space into two different “rooms” I don’t really mind but, we are just really struggling to get a vision. How would you arrange this room with this sectional and additional pieces?
P.S. I really don’t like this sofa for this house but it was expensive and we can’t afford to replace it yet, it’s the only thing in the room that necessarily has to stay. We will slowly start to make additions.
submitted by BodieBroadusBurner to DesignMyRoom [link] [comments]
I would like to have more seating other than the sofa, but still have the room feel “open”. If we have to split the space into two different “rooms” I don’t really mind but, we are just really struggling to get a vision. How would you arrange this room with this sectional and additional pieces?
P.S. I really don’t like this sofa for this house but it was expensive and we can’t afford to replace it yet, it’s the only thing in the room that necessarily has to stay. We will slowly start to make additions.
2023.05.28 23:32 FossaGenie 18 things your burglar won’t tell you. The list came from Richard Wright, a criminology professor at the University of Missouri in St. Louis, who interviewed burglars for his book, Burglars on the Job: Street life and Residential Break-ins.
The 18 things, from the perspective of the burglar, are:
submitted by FossaGenie to oakville [link] [comments]
- The two things I hate most: loud dogs and nosy neighbors.
- Of course I look familiar. I was here just last week cleaning your carpets, painting your shutters, or delivering your new refrigerator.
- Sometimes, I carry a clipboard. Sometimes, I dress like a lawn guy and carry a rake. I do my best to never, ever look like a crook.
- A loud TV or radio can be a better deterrent than the best alarm system. If you’re reluctant to leave your TV on while you’re out of town, you can buy a timer.
- Yes, I really do look for newspapers piled up on the driveway. And I might leave a pizza flyer in your front door to see how long it takes you to remove it.
- Here’s a helpful hint: I almost never go into kids’ rooms.
- If you don’t answer when I knock, I try the door. Occasionally, I hit the jackpot and walk right in.
- If decorative glass is part of your front entrance, don’t let your alarm company install the control pad where I can see if it’s set. That makes it too easy.
- You’re right: I won’t have enough time to break into that safe where you keep your valuables. But if it’s not bolted down, I’ll take it with me.
- Hey, thanks for letting me use the bathroom when I was working in your yard last week. While I was in there, I unlatched the back window to make my return a little easier.
- I don’t take a day off because of bad weather.
- To you, leaving that window open just a crack during the day is a way to let in a little fresh air. To me, it’s an invitation.
- I love looking in your windows. I’m looking for signs that you’re home, and for flat screen TVs or gaming systems I’d like. I’ll drive or walk through your neighborhood at night, before you close the blinds, just to pick my targets.
- I always knock first. If you answer, I’ll ask for directions somewhere or offer to clean your gutters. (Don’t take me up on it.)
- I’ll break a window to get in, even if it makes a little noise. If your neighbor hears one loud sound, he’ll stop what he’s doing and wait to hear it again. If he doesn’t hear it again, he’ll just go back to what he was doing. It’s human nature.
- A good security company alarms the window over the sink. And the windows on the second floor, which often access the master bedroom - and your jewelry. It’s not a bad idea to put motion detectors up there too.
- I always check dresser drawers, the bedside table, and the medicine cabinet.
- I’m not complaining, but why would you pay all that money for a fancy alarm system and leave your house without setting it?
2023.05.28 23:32 moonheaux At a crossroads in what I want to do
I have an idea of what I want, it’s just more so which way should I go lol. I work in healthcare right now and it’s actually a pretty solid entry level job that let’s me pull 2-3 12hour shifts within the week. I’m a PRN so scheduling is flexible. I’m planning on starting up school (no college exp, took a couple college classes in high school but yea lol). I’m just trying to decide should I stay in healthcare or honestly just go into tech.
I always had an interest in tech and I’ve had some experience coding in the past, plus originally I was going to go for a computer science degree after graduating high school, but I took a gap year and decided to get some things in my life in order before going to school lol. Of course that involved me falling into this healthcare job, and honestly now I have a taste of working in healthcare….. and I don’t completely hate it? My only thing is, this job in particular doesn’t have much future prospects, and I honestly feel I’ve gone as far as I can go with it, unless I do travel contracts (which is still on the table for me). Plus I’ve just decided to leave a facility because it did get toxic (mostly because of management). It sucks cause I genuinely enjoyed the job itself and the people I worked with. It’s also opened up my interest in other healthcare jobs that do require more schooling (radiology and medical lab technician was what I was looking at, nooooo nursing please omg).
I don’t know though honestly. My experience at this last facility just really has me re-evaluating everything lol. Plus I’m about to turn 25. I will be starting at a new facility soon (same job), and it definitely seems a lot better especially cause a coworker I know has left and gone there and they love it (they got me in actually lol). Now I’m just thinking about my future. My experience at the last facility has honestly shown me the ugly side of healthcare, and honestly it doesn’t matter how perfect that healthcare gig is, it can go to shit in an instant because of a manager with an inflated ego gets hired or something and just destroys everything. Whether it’s for money or whatever other stupid accolades they wanna slap on their resume to become CEO, I just honestly am tired and stressed tf out from that. They’re a despicable human being let’s just say that. I know any job is really prone to that, but man is healthcare prone to those fucking personalities.
Anyways now I’m leaning towards tech again, although I won’t lie those couple other healthcare careers are still in the back of my mind, I just don’t know where to go. I won’t lie I think the biggest appeal healthcare has to me is the fact you can do 5-8s, 4-10s or 3-12s depending on what career you go into. It’s not a dealbreaker for me but man, when I got a taste of those shifts, it’s hard to think of going back to 5-8s 😭 I know tech can have a good work-life balance too, I just know it’s going through a transition right now because of all the AI stuff, plus it would be nice to land some type of schedule like that, but I know it’s typically that 5-8 type of career. All I know is, I do need to do my pre-reqs for college, so I’ll at least do that while I make my decision.
I know this was long and I’m so sorry 😭 I just needed to rant and really maybe just some guidance. Thank you if you did read all this!
submitted by moonheaux to findapath [link] [comments]
I always had an interest in tech and I’ve had some experience coding in the past, plus originally I was going to go for a computer science degree after graduating high school, but I took a gap year and decided to get some things in my life in order before going to school lol. Of course that involved me falling into this healthcare job, and honestly now I have a taste of working in healthcare….. and I don’t completely hate it? My only thing is, this job in particular doesn’t have much future prospects, and I honestly feel I’ve gone as far as I can go with it, unless I do travel contracts (which is still on the table for me). Plus I’ve just decided to leave a facility because it did get toxic (mostly because of management). It sucks cause I genuinely enjoyed the job itself and the people I worked with. It’s also opened up my interest in other healthcare jobs that do require more schooling (radiology and medical lab technician was what I was looking at, nooooo nursing please omg).
I don’t know though honestly. My experience at this last facility just really has me re-evaluating everything lol. Plus I’m about to turn 25. I will be starting at a new facility soon (same job), and it definitely seems a lot better especially cause a coworker I know has left and gone there and they love it (they got me in actually lol). Now I’m just thinking about my future. My experience at the last facility has honestly shown me the ugly side of healthcare, and honestly it doesn’t matter how perfect that healthcare gig is, it can go to shit in an instant because of a manager with an inflated ego gets hired or something and just destroys everything. Whether it’s for money or whatever other stupid accolades they wanna slap on their resume to become CEO, I just honestly am tired and stressed tf out from that. They’re a despicable human being let’s just say that. I know any job is really prone to that, but man is healthcare prone to those fucking personalities.
Anyways now I’m leaning towards tech again, although I won’t lie those couple other healthcare careers are still in the back of my mind, I just don’t know where to go. I won’t lie I think the biggest appeal healthcare has to me is the fact you can do 5-8s, 4-10s or 3-12s depending on what career you go into. It’s not a dealbreaker for me but man, when I got a taste of those shifts, it’s hard to think of going back to 5-8s 😭 I know tech can have a good work-life balance too, I just know it’s going through a transition right now because of all the AI stuff, plus it would be nice to land some type of schedule like that, but I know it’s typically that 5-8 type of career. All I know is, I do need to do my pre-reqs for college, so I’ll at least do that while I make my decision.
I know this was long and I’m so sorry 😭 I just needed to rant and really maybe just some guidance. Thank you if you did read all this!
2023.05.28 23:23 DanielCKin What would you do?
 | Ted’s revelatory push towards burning the entirety of the Community Reserves has got me pondering- what other ideas and alternatives could we also vote on? submitted by DanielCKin to kin [link] [comments] I previously raised the idea of testing incremental sums of Kin being used to build liquidity on a Sol/Kin (or other) pair on defi markets. This would help people to buy and sell Kin easily and also create a long term hedge with Sol (or whatever pairs we vote to include). A fairly basic and obvious way to try out community governance, smart contracts and work to solving the liquidity issues we’ve always faced, in a decentralised manner. We could also/instead simply airdrop the reserves to holders (minus Kik), thus solving the issue of a centralised Kin Foundation ‘overhang’ or the enhanced Kik overhang that is being tabled with the burn proposal. Sure, it’d increase circulation but it would also increase decentralisation, with funds in the hands of holders - people with $Kin in the game ™. The airdrop could be multiple airdrops, staggered and reward length of holding or staking etc. totally up to the community. Whatever format it takes, it may well be better for the community and the project than burning the reserves and doubling Kik’s share to 60% share of total circ. It’s basically solving the overhang problem that Ted raised but maintaining the community/Kik Inc ratio. Then, if anyone wants to organise community expenditure or joint ventures - they can decide to do so. Voting directly with their wallets and commissioning initiatives. A more simple way of taking direct-action based on stakes and conviction. We could pay for exchanges, marketing, advertising, whatever. Ideally, there’d be some form of deferred payment plan built-in so we get to see the results of the investment before they dump for $. As long as the ROI exceeds the investment we’re all sound. We no longer have the ‘petty remuneration’ of Mougy and co to contend with so we stand a better chance of hitting that growth point. The community has generally spotted issues and proposed sensible solutions throughout the time I’ve followed the project. And so I’m asking - what would you all like to see made of the reserves? Any idea is fair game, throw it out there- can’t be much wilder than ‘Let’s vote to just burn all your reserves (but none of Kik Inc’s) and see what happens!’ There’s plenty of ways to use the reserves but we only get to burn them once. Let’s put our collective heads together and choose wisely before making any major, irreversible decisions. Only fools rush in where angels fear to tread. |
2023.05.28 23:17 BonjourComeBack Emotions: worst enemies or best allies?
The body and mind are often regarded as separate. The same applies to emotions and reason. This dichotomy is regularly made and commonly accepted despite the fact that most of the time decisions are made on the spur of the moment and then rationalized.
Many advertisers and people working in the field of psychology can attest to this.
Emotions can be powerful but blind without reason. This is one of the reasons why we are often warned about our emotions. And more often than not, not knowing how to manage them, they are repressed. And yet they are necessary.
It's like driving a car. Without a steering wheel - reason - you go straight to the wall.
Without the engine, the emotions, you don't make any headway, just as you don't have the fuel that discipline can provide.
Discipline could be seen as the conscious act of pushing the car, whereas passion, the emotions, would be the unconscious act of moving forward because you're overflowing with energy.
We mainly see the negative aspect of emotions and so many people repress them, which prevents them from using them properly.
This makes it even more difficult to move forward because these emotions can even hinder conscious efforts when there is no correspondence between what someone wants to do consciously (reason) and unconsciously (emotions).
There is a tendency to force, using discipline to counterbalance this internal brake, particularly in personal development communities, while forgetting that there is a need behind the emotions and a function.
For example, anger, most of the time, serves to protect what belongs to us or ourselves. How would you react if, in the middle of a picnic, enjoying your sandwich, someone came and stole your meal?
Chances are that the blood would rush to your face, your body would tense up, your fists would clench and the decibels would rise sharply.
And that's normal. You're just trying to get back what you're owed.
On the other hand, if the same situation arose again, but the person was much more threatening or accompanied by a group, there's a good chance that your heart would race, that icy drops of sweat would be beading down your forehead and back, that your hair would stand on end and your limbs would start to tremble, with barely any blood circulating in your fingertips.
That's the body going into survival mode. This reaction is there to protect your integrity from immediate danger.
Disgust, that repulsion when you see something, with the irrepressible urge to look away, plug your nose and sometimes even gag, is there to turn us away from something toxic or to make us spit out a potential threat to our health.
Take a few moments to imagine yourself in the sewers. Dark, damp and, above all, with that filthy smell of decomposing organic matter that makes you nauseous. Or that feeling when you eat a piece of fruit and realize it's rotten.
Just by reading these lines and imagining the scene, you may have found yourself wincing, almost looking away or even plugging your nose as a reflex.
Sadness, that feeling that most of the time seems to descend on us like a leaden curtain, like an iron curtain or a ball and chain that we drag around draining us of all energy, teaches us the notion of loss where we can't really act (unlike anger). It teaches us the notion of loss, where we can't really act (unlike anger). So it encourages us to avoid the situation rather than to counter it like with anger.
It teaches us that it's not always possible to act on the situation and that sometimes we have to accept the loss and avoid the situation so as not to repeat it.
On the other hand, there is an emotion that makes us feel light and energetic. For some people, there seems to be a continuous flow of energy through their body. In others, the body seems light and supple. All this makes it even easier to pursue and find the source of the emotion that is joy.
In a sense, emotions are a useful driving force, and we can consider that
"Reason without strength is powerless and strength without reason is blind".
What's wrong with ignoring your emotions?
Repressing your emotions can have consequences for your health. Symptoms can appear as a result of stress that we ignore. These can range from difficulty sleeping to skin rashes. On the other hand, when emotions are already ignored, it can happen that, without understanding why, a situation makes us explode.
You don't necessarily feel it the previous time, but when you do, you get a very strong bodily sensation, sometimes the blood rushes to your face and your jaw clenches. Other times the body tenses up and the fists clench.
Tears may even roll down the cheeks without warning.
The body reacts spontaneously, sometimes violently. To the point of wondering why the situation unfolded the way it did, and why it all happened, why this uncontrolled explosion. Actions precede reason at that precise moment. Some may be beyond our control.
How can we trust someone if they can explode at any time?
As well as causing health problems and leading to a spontaneous and uncontrolled reaction that is not always viable, it is difficult to identify the emotions and needs behind them when we are used to ignoring signals.
New sensations can then arise without us understanding why. Sometimes it's a feeling of tightness in the chest, other times it's tiredness.
It's hard to know whether what you're doing is right for you or not. The body no longer seems to give any indication of whether something is pleasant or unpleasant. You can feel disconnected from yourself.
Food, activities that we used to love and sometimes even interactions with loved ones can become insipid. The body stops reacting. It loses its vitality and becomes something else entirely.
An empty shell.
Unable to feel anything.
Other times you feel that energy flowing through your veins, your body light, with the irresistible urge to take action, to act immediately, but you repress that urge.
We suppress that energy.
You extinguish that flame.
It's not the right time.
By the time you do take action, that flame has long been extinguished. We've missed the boat.
The energy is lacking.
So you draw on the last remaining reserves of energy through discipline and willpower. Sometimes you feel like you're pulling a whole train when just a few hours before you had the strength to move mountains.
It's hard to carry out long-term projects when that glow, that frail flame, is dwindled by being contained and suppressed, lacking oxygen rather than being fed and nourished when it shines and burns again.
How can we feel fulfilled when we put out the fire that burns within us?
How can we feel fulfilled when we undermine the foundations we need to move forward and carry out the projects we hold dear to our hearts?
What's the point of using your emotions?
Take a few moments to imagine how you will feel when you control and channel your emotions.
When an emotion arises, bodily sensations appear and are discernible. At that precise moment, you understand the emotion that is running through you. At this precise moment you are aware of the thoughts that are running through you.
When you ask yourself why this emotion is happening, you can finally act on it and bring the emotion back down so that you can act in a reasoned way without exploding. Notice how this changes your relationship with others and yourself.
You know what to do.
You can finally use your emotions as a driving force. Gone are the days when they got in the way and held you back, pulling you along.
Now you're water-skiing, pulled by your emotions in the direction you really want to go. No need to "push the car", no need for discipline or willpower.
There's a flow of energy through your body that can move freely through your limbs, your torso and even your head.
Everything seems clearer.
Sometimes it's a sensation of warmth that runs through the whole body, with the hands, arms, legs etc. gaining energy and actively contracting and relaxing. At other times, thoughts speed up and colors appear brighter, stronger and more vivid.
Ideas flow and multiply.
Become aware of what happens in your body when you carry out the projects that drive you. Where do the sensations begin? Do they move? What do they feel like?
When frustrated, you tap into that sensation to finally do what you have to do. When passionate, you surf on this emotion to land on your objectives.
What happens when you do it over and over again, for a multitude of projects?
What is your life like at this very moment?
Take the time to think about all this and become aware of how to use your emotions. Every time you think about it, you'll find an even simpler and more effective way of doing it. It's even possible that you'll do it without thinking about it, as the unconscious mind often automatically puts in place behaviors to best achieve its goals.
Some people may wonder how you're supposed to do this.
This is perfectly logical as we are rarely taught how to do it. It's normal not to know straight away when you've been used to repressing your emotions and you learn that it's never the right time. This will be covered in detail in the solutions below.
The fantastic thing about using your emotions is that as you do it, it becomes automatic. Just like when you learn to read and write.
The beginning is sometimes complicated, you have to make a real effort to write or read. But after a while it becomes second nature.
You don't even have to think about it.
Other people think it's weird, but what's not weird when it's your first time?
Sometimes you think it's not the right time. When will it be the right time? How do you know when it's the right time?
The "later" rarely happens.
Sometimes people think there's no point, as discipline is much more important. The question is not what is more important, but how to use the almost infinite energy that emotions provide.
What's more, when you have a specific vision of the world and a mission, it doesn't matter how you feel. There's something else out there that overwhelms us and provokes a much stronger emotion.
A story
Several weeks ago, I had an almost irrepressible urge to read. I don't really know why. I'd left a book on hold. Now it's right there in front of me.
Right in front of me. On my coffee table.
I'm about to pick it up when a little voice calls out to me.
Now's not the time to do that, you've got other things to do first.
My body was in a frenzy, impatient to start this stimulating and pleasant reading. But it wasn't the right time. A little disappointed, I pushed myself to my desk to get down to work.
All this is more than tedious.
After trying hard to stop myself from reading this brilliant book and getting down to work, I can finally devour it. I was about to grab it when a multitude of thoughts came to mind.
It reminds me of one of the times I went for a run.
At the time, I'd gone out to train my cardio and wanted to see how hard I could push myself. It's a tough start. I put on my helmet and shoes. After a few minutes, thoughts came to me. It was also to forget these kinds of things that I was going to let off steam that evening.
As these thoughts bombarded me, emotions came to the fore. My heart knots, my fists clench. Out of breath, I speed up again. A new energy flows through my body.
My legs move of their own accord, my body comes alive with a will of its own and the feeling of effort disappears.
Only one thing matters.
Run as fast as you can. To push my body to the limit.
Running away from these thoughts.
A few months earlier, sitting comfortably at home, an irresistible urge to draw came over me. One afternoon. It was a beautiful day outside. I had things to do and at the same time I still had some time on my hands.
So I grabbed a few blank sheets of paper and a pencil and started drawing. Draw and draw. The hand moves at its own pace and draws automatically.
It's only when my pile of sheets is completely used up that I come out of this state of concentration.
When I looked up, I realized it was getting dark. So I stopped.
In the course of the evening, I started to look again at the drawings I'd made. Just looking at them made my limbs twitch, as if a stream of energy was flowing through them. Drawing ideas were pouring in. These drawings are cool. I want to do more.
I can't stand the thought of doing them again.
During the run, months later, my body has this new energy. Rarely have I gone so fast for so long. After that running session, completely drained of energy, I lay down on my sofa.
The dark thoughts no longer pursued me.
I've been able to give it everything I've got.
A smile curls my lips.
Long after all that, when the thoughts flooded my mind after I finally had the book I dearly wanted to read, there was a change that was hard to describe.
The excitement I had a few hours ago is gone. The energy is completely gone.
The spark has dissipated.
I blew out the burning flame.
At the precise moment I wanted to use it, nothing happened.
It went out.
It's too late.
So understanding this, I put down the book.
Disappointed.
I'll do it another time.
So what am I supposed to do?
As all roads lead to Rome, here are a few non-exhaustive points that may help.
To begin with, it's important to be able to identify your emotions before using them. So it's necessary to recognise them.
What are the sensations? Where are they located? If I had to give them a shape, color and texture, what would they be?
What does what I'm feeling look like? What images can I use to describe them?
What makes me feel this way? What does it say about me? What is the need behind it? One method that can be useful is the five whys.
The principle is to first ask yourself why you feel the way you do. Then apply this questioning again, but this time to the cause you've found.
Then repeat the process three or four times.
Generally, when you can't answer any more questions, the original cause has been reached.
In short, you associate the stimulus of the smell with something else, such as an event or a person.
There are several ways of setting up an anchor.
The simplest is to make a specific gesture each time the emotion arises. This way, after enough times, you can simply bring the emotion to the surface by doing the gesture again.
Another method is to go into a state of hypnosis, a modified state of consciousness, think of a particular event that provokes the emotion and do the gesture.
It's best to do this several times, but the state of hypnosis means that the experience of the emotion can be very strong and therefore requires less repetition to 'anchor' the gesture and the emotion together.
A positive visualization is one in which you experience what you're aiming for, what you want to have, just to get a taste of it. The fact that it's very pleasant draws you towards this goal and helps to give you new energy and motivation.
Negative visualization consists of doing the opposite by imagining in precise detail exactly the situation you want to avoid at all costs. Unpleasant emotions often arise, prompting you to avoid the scenario as best you can.
The most effective way to do this is to use the two, one after the other, as this creates a contrasting effect.
All you have to do is take a moment. Imagine in detail the ideal situation that you would like to experience on a daily basis and then do the same with the opposite scenario.
The more specific and emotionally powerful this is, the better.
submitted by BonjourComeBack to selfimprovement [link] [comments]
Many advertisers and people working in the field of psychology can attest to this.
Emotions can be powerful but blind without reason. This is one of the reasons why we are often warned about our emotions. And more often than not, not knowing how to manage them, they are repressed. And yet they are necessary.
It's like driving a car. Without a steering wheel - reason - you go straight to the wall.
Without the engine, the emotions, you don't make any headway, just as you don't have the fuel that discipline can provide.
Discipline could be seen as the conscious act of pushing the car, whereas passion, the emotions, would be the unconscious act of moving forward because you're overflowing with energy.
We mainly see the negative aspect of emotions and so many people repress them, which prevents them from using them properly.
This makes it even more difficult to move forward because these emotions can even hinder conscious efforts when there is no correspondence between what someone wants to do consciously (reason) and unconsciously (emotions).
There is a tendency to force, using discipline to counterbalance this internal brake, particularly in personal development communities, while forgetting that there is a need behind the emotions and a function.
For example, anger, most of the time, serves to protect what belongs to us or ourselves. How would you react if, in the middle of a picnic, enjoying your sandwich, someone came and stole your meal?
Chances are that the blood would rush to your face, your body would tense up, your fists would clench and the decibels would rise sharply.
And that's normal. You're just trying to get back what you're owed.
On the other hand, if the same situation arose again, but the person was much more threatening or accompanied by a group, there's a good chance that your heart would race, that icy drops of sweat would be beading down your forehead and back, that your hair would stand on end and your limbs would start to tremble, with barely any blood circulating in your fingertips.
That's the body going into survival mode. This reaction is there to protect your integrity from immediate danger.
Disgust, that repulsion when you see something, with the irrepressible urge to look away, plug your nose and sometimes even gag, is there to turn us away from something toxic or to make us spit out a potential threat to our health.
Take a few moments to imagine yourself in the sewers. Dark, damp and, above all, with that filthy smell of decomposing organic matter that makes you nauseous. Or that feeling when you eat a piece of fruit and realize it's rotten.
Just by reading these lines and imagining the scene, you may have found yourself wincing, almost looking away or even plugging your nose as a reflex.
Sadness, that feeling that most of the time seems to descend on us like a leaden curtain, like an iron curtain or a ball and chain that we drag around draining us of all energy, teaches us the notion of loss where we can't really act (unlike anger). It teaches us the notion of loss, where we can't really act (unlike anger). So it encourages us to avoid the situation rather than to counter it like with anger.
It teaches us that it's not always possible to act on the situation and that sometimes we have to accept the loss and avoid the situation so as not to repeat it.
On the other hand, there is an emotion that makes us feel light and energetic. For some people, there seems to be a continuous flow of energy through their body. In others, the body seems light and supple. All this makes it even easier to pursue and find the source of the emotion that is joy.
In a sense, emotions are a useful driving force, and we can consider that
"Reason without strength is powerless and strength without reason is blind".
What's wrong with ignoring your emotions?
Repressing your emotions can have consequences for your health. Symptoms can appear as a result of stress that we ignore. These can range from difficulty sleeping to skin rashes. On the other hand, when emotions are already ignored, it can happen that, without understanding why, a situation makes us explode.
You don't necessarily feel it the previous time, but when you do, you get a very strong bodily sensation, sometimes the blood rushes to your face and your jaw clenches. Other times the body tenses up and the fists clench.
Tears may even roll down the cheeks without warning.
The body reacts spontaneously, sometimes violently. To the point of wondering why the situation unfolded the way it did, and why it all happened, why this uncontrolled explosion. Actions precede reason at that precise moment. Some may be beyond our control.
How can we trust someone if they can explode at any time?
As well as causing health problems and leading to a spontaneous and uncontrolled reaction that is not always viable, it is difficult to identify the emotions and needs behind them when we are used to ignoring signals.
New sensations can then arise without us understanding why. Sometimes it's a feeling of tightness in the chest, other times it's tiredness.
It's hard to know whether what you're doing is right for you or not. The body no longer seems to give any indication of whether something is pleasant or unpleasant. You can feel disconnected from yourself.
Food, activities that we used to love and sometimes even interactions with loved ones can become insipid. The body stops reacting. It loses its vitality and becomes something else entirely.
An empty shell.
Unable to feel anything.
Other times you feel that energy flowing through your veins, your body light, with the irresistible urge to take action, to act immediately, but you repress that urge.
We suppress that energy.
You extinguish that flame.
It's not the right time.
By the time you do take action, that flame has long been extinguished. We've missed the boat.
The energy is lacking.
So you draw on the last remaining reserves of energy through discipline and willpower. Sometimes you feel like you're pulling a whole train when just a few hours before you had the strength to move mountains.
It's hard to carry out long-term projects when that glow, that frail flame, is dwindled by being contained and suppressed, lacking oxygen rather than being fed and nourished when it shines and burns again.
How can we feel fulfilled when we put out the fire that burns within us?
How can we feel fulfilled when we undermine the foundations we need to move forward and carry out the projects we hold dear to our hearts?
What's the point of using your emotions?
Take a few moments to imagine how you will feel when you control and channel your emotions.
When an emotion arises, bodily sensations appear and are discernible. At that precise moment, you understand the emotion that is running through you. At this precise moment you are aware of the thoughts that are running through you.
When you ask yourself why this emotion is happening, you can finally act on it and bring the emotion back down so that you can act in a reasoned way without exploding. Notice how this changes your relationship with others and yourself.
You know what to do.
You can finally use your emotions as a driving force. Gone are the days when they got in the way and held you back, pulling you along.
Now you're water-skiing, pulled by your emotions in the direction you really want to go. No need to "push the car", no need for discipline or willpower.
There's a flow of energy through your body that can move freely through your limbs, your torso and even your head.
Everything seems clearer.
Sometimes it's a sensation of warmth that runs through the whole body, with the hands, arms, legs etc. gaining energy and actively contracting and relaxing. At other times, thoughts speed up and colors appear brighter, stronger and more vivid.
Ideas flow and multiply.
Become aware of what happens in your body when you carry out the projects that drive you. Where do the sensations begin? Do they move? What do they feel like?
When frustrated, you tap into that sensation to finally do what you have to do. When passionate, you surf on this emotion to land on your objectives.
What happens when you do it over and over again, for a multitude of projects?
What is your life like at this very moment?
Take the time to think about all this and become aware of how to use your emotions. Every time you think about it, you'll find an even simpler and more effective way of doing it. It's even possible that you'll do it without thinking about it, as the unconscious mind often automatically puts in place behaviors to best achieve its goals.
Some people may wonder how you're supposed to do this.
This is perfectly logical as we are rarely taught how to do it. It's normal not to know straight away when you've been used to repressing your emotions and you learn that it's never the right time. This will be covered in detail in the solutions below.
The fantastic thing about using your emotions is that as you do it, it becomes automatic. Just like when you learn to read and write.
The beginning is sometimes complicated, you have to make a real effort to write or read. But after a while it becomes second nature.
You don't even have to think about it.
Other people think it's weird, but what's not weird when it's your first time?
Sometimes you think it's not the right time. When will it be the right time? How do you know when it's the right time?
The "later" rarely happens.
Sometimes people think there's no point, as discipline is much more important. The question is not what is more important, but how to use the almost infinite energy that emotions provide.
What's more, when you have a specific vision of the world and a mission, it doesn't matter how you feel. There's something else out there that overwhelms us and provokes a much stronger emotion.
A story
Several weeks ago, I had an almost irrepressible urge to read. I don't really know why. I'd left a book on hold. Now it's right there in front of me.
Right in front of me. On my coffee table.
I'm about to pick it up when a little voice calls out to me.
Now's not the time to do that, you've got other things to do first.
My body was in a frenzy, impatient to start this stimulating and pleasant reading. But it wasn't the right time. A little disappointed, I pushed myself to my desk to get down to work.
All this is more than tedious.
After trying hard to stop myself from reading this brilliant book and getting down to work, I can finally devour it. I was about to grab it when a multitude of thoughts came to mind.
It reminds me of one of the times I went for a run.
At the time, I'd gone out to train my cardio and wanted to see how hard I could push myself. It's a tough start. I put on my helmet and shoes. After a few minutes, thoughts came to me. It was also to forget these kinds of things that I was going to let off steam that evening.
As these thoughts bombarded me, emotions came to the fore. My heart knots, my fists clench. Out of breath, I speed up again. A new energy flows through my body.
My legs move of their own accord, my body comes alive with a will of its own and the feeling of effort disappears.
Only one thing matters.
Run as fast as you can. To push my body to the limit.
Running away from these thoughts.
A few months earlier, sitting comfortably at home, an irresistible urge to draw came over me. One afternoon. It was a beautiful day outside. I had things to do and at the same time I still had some time on my hands.
So I grabbed a few blank sheets of paper and a pencil and started drawing. Draw and draw. The hand moves at its own pace and draws automatically.
It's only when my pile of sheets is completely used up that I come out of this state of concentration.
When I looked up, I realized it was getting dark. So I stopped.
In the course of the evening, I started to look again at the drawings I'd made. Just looking at them made my limbs twitch, as if a stream of energy was flowing through them. Drawing ideas were pouring in. These drawings are cool. I want to do more.
I can't stand the thought of doing them again.
During the run, months later, my body has this new energy. Rarely have I gone so fast for so long. After that running session, completely drained of energy, I lay down on my sofa.
The dark thoughts no longer pursued me.
I've been able to give it everything I've got.
A smile curls my lips.
Long after all that, when the thoughts flooded my mind after I finally had the book I dearly wanted to read, there was a change that was hard to describe.
The excitement I had a few hours ago is gone. The energy is completely gone.
The spark has dissipated.
I blew out the burning flame.
At the precise moment I wanted to use it, nothing happened.
It went out.
It's too late.
So understanding this, I put down the book.
Disappointed.
I'll do it another time.
So what am I supposed to do?
As all roads lead to Rome, here are a few non-exhaustive points that may help.
To begin with, it's important to be able to identify your emotions before using them. So it's necessary to recognise them.
- Identifying your emotions and how you represent it
What are the sensations? Where are they located? If I had to give them a shape, color and texture, what would they be?
What does what I'm feeling look like? What images can I use to describe them?
- The five whys method
What makes me feel this way? What does it say about me? What is the need behind it? One method that can be useful is the five whys.
The principle is to first ask yourself why you feel the way you do. Then apply this questioning again, but this time to the cause you've found.
Then repeat the process three or four times.
Generally, when you can't answer any more questions, the original cause has been reached.
- Creating anchors
In short, you associate the stimulus of the smell with something else, such as an event or a person.
There are several ways of setting up an anchor.
The simplest is to make a specific gesture each time the emotion arises. This way, after enough times, you can simply bring the emotion to the surface by doing the gesture again.
Another method is to go into a state of hypnosis, a modified state of consciousness, think of a particular event that provokes the emotion and do the gesture.
It's best to do this several times, but the state of hypnosis means that the experience of the emotion can be very strong and therefore requires less repetition to 'anchor' the gesture and the emotion together.
- Activating the anchors
- Positive and negative visualization
A positive visualization is one in which you experience what you're aiming for, what you want to have, just to get a taste of it. The fact that it's very pleasant draws you towards this goal and helps to give you new energy and motivation.
Negative visualization consists of doing the opposite by imagining in precise detail exactly the situation you want to avoid at all costs. Unpleasant emotions often arise, prompting you to avoid the scenario as best you can.
The most effective way to do this is to use the two, one after the other, as this creates a contrasting effect.
- Clear vision
All you have to do is take a moment. Imagine in detail the ideal situation that you would like to experience on a daily basis and then do the same with the opposite scenario.
The more specific and emotionally powerful this is, the better.
2023.05.28 23:16 PoisonWaffle3 Went to a Brazilian Grill/Steakhouse
 | I took my family to a Brazilian grill/steakhouse for dinner last night, and it was pretty great! The whole concept is that they spit roast steak and other meats, then come to your table to carve off as much as you'd like. Their specialty is of course picanha, but of course I didn't get a picture of that on the spit. I've got a few pictures of some ribeyes that were pretty good, and of the full menu itself. submitted by PoisonWaffle3 to steak [link] [comments] I edited/cropped out most identifying logos/marks for anonymity, so please refrain from identifying the place if you happen to have been there before. I definitely got to try a lot of different cuts and I got a lot of good ideas. I was honestly kind of surprised that their picanha wasn't quite as good as mine normally is, especially with it being their specialty. I'm assuming that my dry brining/seasoning overnight and reverse sear allows more time for my seasonings to penetrate the meat. Theirs was really tender, just a bit bland on the inside (but still really good). Side question, is tri-tip normally tough/chewy with a lot of intramuscular connective... stuff? That was the only cut I had that I didn't enjoy, just very difficult to chew. Maybe something that a long dry brine and a reverse sear could fix. |
2023.05.28 23:15 teegsthebee0516 [HR] Candies Part 1
[HR] Candies pt 1 (written as a school assignment originally)
It was February. The cold air tingled Elsie's skin like a thousand tiny bee stings. Elsie entered the store on South Street that was right next to her favorite coffee shop. The bell jingled softly as she opened the door and Elsie browsed lightly before she picked up what she needed. “Hello.” The cashier smiled sweetly, scanning her items. “Hi, how are you?” Elsie replied. They made small talk about the weather and the news. She walked the streets of Chicago carrying her small grocery bag. It was filled with Valentine's candy hearts, her favorite, but these candies weren't for her. Well, maybe one or two boxes. These were for her seventh-grade students at Hawkford middle school. Elsie leisurely made her way to her apartment on 8th street, enjoying the snowy scenery on the way. Finally, her apartment appeared in view and she prepared her key to enter her apartment. The hall was warm, not as warm as she had hoped but warm enough to start to soothe the tingles she felt from the cold. Her apartment was warmer just like she liked. The keys clattered in the glass dish Elsie kept by the door and the grocery bag rustled on the coffee table. Elsie loved the winter and walking during that time of year as everything she needed was near her home. Elsie entered the bathroom where she sighed before stepping in front of the mirror. Living alone made her develop the fear that someone or something would be standing behind her in the mirror every time she looked and although it had never happened to her she still felt the creeping feeling something was there. Elsie exited the bathroom grabbing the grocery bag of treats on her way through her house to her bedroom where her desk was. After checking tests and homework for a while she decided to reward herself with a box of candy. The tearing of the cardboard and clatter of the candy satisfied an itch in her brain. “Weird,” Elsie muttered, picking up a few pieces of the blue candy. They were blank. All of them. Individually she picked up every single piece hoping that one would have a cheesy saying like “love bug” or “I <3 you” but none did. One candy however sent goosebumps down Elsie's arms. A pink candy with big bold writing read “Mirror”. Elsie was the most superstitious person she knew but tried not to let it get to her even though it was bizarre given the fear she had of mirrors. She decided against eating the one that said “mirror” not wanting to absorb any “bad vibes” from it. Elsie thought something about the taste of the sweets was off, they were almost…salty? She spat them out and decided that maybe trying another box would be a good idea because if they were all like this they absolutely could not give them to her seventh graders. Another satisfying rattle of the candies falling rung and the same thing proceeded. Another candy but purple this time read “mirror”. It was freaking Elsie out but like she learned in Ghost 101 show no fear and you will be alright. Besides, it was probably just an error with this batch. Elsie opened the third box, discarding the blank candy to the side, and let the two phrases sit together. For a third time the event occurred, but now the singular candy said: “on the wall”. Now Elsie was freaked out. Suddenly The boxes tumbled out of the bag and onto the floor. Strangely the boxes seamlessly unclosed. Elsie was cautious as she picked up the candies but dropped them quickly when she felt the burning sensation on her fingers. She scooped them up with a tissue from her desk examining them closely. Again, all were blank except for a few…
submitted by teegsthebee0516 to shortstories [link] [comments]
It was February. The cold air tingled Elsie's skin like a thousand tiny bee stings. Elsie entered the store on South Street that was right next to her favorite coffee shop. The bell jingled softly as she opened the door and Elsie browsed lightly before she picked up what she needed. “Hello.” The cashier smiled sweetly, scanning her items. “Hi, how are you?” Elsie replied. They made small talk about the weather and the news. She walked the streets of Chicago carrying her small grocery bag. It was filled with Valentine's candy hearts, her favorite, but these candies weren't for her. Well, maybe one or two boxes. These were for her seventh-grade students at Hawkford middle school. Elsie leisurely made her way to her apartment on 8th street, enjoying the snowy scenery on the way. Finally, her apartment appeared in view and she prepared her key to enter her apartment. The hall was warm, not as warm as she had hoped but warm enough to start to soothe the tingles she felt from the cold. Her apartment was warmer just like she liked. The keys clattered in the glass dish Elsie kept by the door and the grocery bag rustled on the coffee table. Elsie loved the winter and walking during that time of year as everything she needed was near her home. Elsie entered the bathroom where she sighed before stepping in front of the mirror. Living alone made her develop the fear that someone or something would be standing behind her in the mirror every time she looked and although it had never happened to her she still felt the creeping feeling something was there. Elsie exited the bathroom grabbing the grocery bag of treats on her way through her house to her bedroom where her desk was. After checking tests and homework for a while she decided to reward herself with a box of candy. The tearing of the cardboard and clatter of the candy satisfied an itch in her brain. “Weird,” Elsie muttered, picking up a few pieces of the blue candy. They were blank. All of them. Individually she picked up every single piece hoping that one would have a cheesy saying like “love bug” or “I <3 you” but none did. One candy however sent goosebumps down Elsie's arms. A pink candy with big bold writing read “Mirror”. Elsie was the most superstitious person she knew but tried not to let it get to her even though it was bizarre given the fear she had of mirrors. She decided against eating the one that said “mirror” not wanting to absorb any “bad vibes” from it. Elsie thought something about the taste of the sweets was off, they were almost…salty? She spat them out and decided that maybe trying another box would be a good idea because if they were all like this they absolutely could not give them to her seventh graders. Another satisfying rattle of the candies falling rung and the same thing proceeded. Another candy but purple this time read “mirror”. It was freaking Elsie out but like she learned in Ghost 101 show no fear and you will be alright. Besides, it was probably just an error with this batch. Elsie opened the third box, discarding the blank candy to the side, and let the two phrases sit together. For a third time the event occurred, but now the singular candy said: “on the wall”. Now Elsie was freaked out. Suddenly The boxes tumbled out of the bag and onto the floor. Strangely the boxes seamlessly unclosed. Elsie was cautious as she picked up the candies but dropped them quickly when she felt the burning sensation on her fingers. She scooped them up with a tissue from her desk examining them closely. Again, all were blank except for a few…
2023.05.28 23:14 MyBedtimeIs7 Suggestions for Date with Introverted girl.
Im talking to a girl who is super introverted. I feel like it would be awkward sitting at a table and staring each other the whole time.
I wanted to get Ice cream, but that seems like “Too cheap” of a date. I like the idea because we can stand and talk in line, and then go for a walk, with no awkward moments.
Any suggestions?
submitted by MyBedtimeIs7 to dating_advice [link] [comments]
I wanted to get Ice cream, but that seems like “Too cheap” of a date. I like the idea because we can stand and talk in line, and then go for a walk, with no awkward moments.
Any suggestions?
2023.05.28 23:06 skullkidsmask Boyfriend (20m) of 3 years shared a kink I'm not into with me (20f), what do I do?
So I'm gonna make this short and sweet. Today my (20f) boyfriend (20m) opened up and shared that he would enjoy if I slept with other women.
I've had times where I have questioned my sexuality, but ultimately I believe I am straight. Today my bf told me that he would be into me sleeping with another girl while he was in the other room, or at most just watching.
I don't want to judge him for this kink, but it's not something I share. To me it feels like cheating and I wouldn't be able to do it, plus, I don't think I'm attracted to women like that.
I worried that at first he meant a threesome, which he knows is completely off the table for me. Again, he reassured that it's because he likes the idea of me being able to be satisfied while he's not home, and he chose a woman because he feels less threatened if I were to sleep with a woman instead of a man. He said he wouldn't want to even touch the other woman, let alone sleep with her.
I've seen countless other stories on here about similar situations where the man does finally decide he wants to get in on it. That's another fear of mine.
I'm happy he feels safe and vulnerable enough with me to share that with me, but I really don't know how to feel. He also said it's a way to spice things up for us, since we've been together for 3 years and usually sex goes pretty consistently for us. He said he'd be fine either way, if it's not something I want to try, he'll keep it a fantasy.
He told me it's not a deal breaker for him, but I'm scared that in the future he will decide its something he wants bad enough to leave me and find someone who shares this interest.
He's such an amazing man and he would never push me. He didnt even fully ask if we could try it, he just wanted to know my opinion. I tried to stay open and tell him that for now, it's definitely not something that I want, but I would think on it more and that obviously things could change. If I do it I'm not doing it just so he won't leave, but I don't know how to feel. I'm very anxious and any advice is appreciated, I don't know what to do.
submitted by skullkidsmask to relationship_advice [link] [comments]
I've had times where I have questioned my sexuality, but ultimately I believe I am straight. Today my bf told me that he would be into me sleeping with another girl while he was in the other room, or at most just watching.
I don't want to judge him for this kink, but it's not something I share. To me it feels like cheating and I wouldn't be able to do it, plus, I don't think I'm attracted to women like that.
I worried that at first he meant a threesome, which he knows is completely off the table for me. Again, he reassured that it's because he likes the idea of me being able to be satisfied while he's not home, and he chose a woman because he feels less threatened if I were to sleep with a woman instead of a man. He said he wouldn't want to even touch the other woman, let alone sleep with her.
I've seen countless other stories on here about similar situations where the man does finally decide he wants to get in on it. That's another fear of mine.
I'm happy he feels safe and vulnerable enough with me to share that with me, but I really don't know how to feel. He also said it's a way to spice things up for us, since we've been together for 3 years and usually sex goes pretty consistently for us. He said he'd be fine either way, if it's not something I want to try, he'll keep it a fantasy.
He told me it's not a deal breaker for him, but I'm scared that in the future he will decide its something he wants bad enough to leave me and find someone who shares this interest.
He's such an amazing man and he would never push me. He didnt even fully ask if we could try it, he just wanted to know my opinion. I tried to stay open and tell him that for now, it's definitely not something that I want, but I would think on it more and that obviously things could change. If I do it I'm not doing it just so he won't leave, but I don't know how to feel. I'm very anxious and any advice is appreciated, I don't know what to do.
2023.05.28 23:05 dynamicMonkeys Rectus femoris tendinopathy
Any ideas for the best exercises for Rectus femoris tendinopathy? I have a pain in the front of the hip that at least one doctor thinks is Rectus femoris tendinopathy. The only exercise that has been suggested is a leg raise on the edge of a table and slowly lower through the eccentric phase. Are there othebetter exercises to target this tendon?
submitted by dynamicMonkeys to overcominggravity [link] [comments]
2023.05.28 22:55 PACCBETA Buck's now has a dog menu
 | submitted by PACCBETA to u/PACCBETA [link] [comments] |
2023.05.28 22:46 loyalsexslave I started a break with my a girlfriend out of spite
So today started off with my girlfriend getting very angry at me for causing her to be late to a friend of hers. I fucked up there, I apologized, and said I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again.
But she went further with it. She began a tangent about how we “started the relationship too quickly and with bad intentions,” that there are “aspects of each other that clash,” and that “she has to hide the truth about me” from her family (I’m a recovering meth addict.) I saw where this was headed.
Just as she brought up the idea of taking a break, I jumped right on board. She was taken aback, I don’t think she expected me to go along with it. So then the tables turned, and she starts saying the break isn’t a good idea. That she might “get comfortable being alone and not come back.” I reassured her it’s probably the healthiest thing we could do.
I really only went ahead and did all this because I’m tired of her doing this to me. Deciding suddenly that she’s not as committed as she has led me to believe. And on top of that, this time around it was just silly. When I asked what I can do to change for her to be okay, she didn’t have any answers, besides to not make her late of course. It seemed like she was just intellectualizing being upset with me, turning it into something bigger.
So now we’re on a break out of spite. I know she’ll miss me, and I hope this gets all the break talk she’s been trying to lay on me out of her system. And well, if she decides she’s out after the week, guess I’m glad I learned she’s not committed now.
submitted by loyalsexslave to offmychest [link] [comments]
But she went further with it. She began a tangent about how we “started the relationship too quickly and with bad intentions,” that there are “aspects of each other that clash,” and that “she has to hide the truth about me” from her family (I’m a recovering meth addict.) I saw where this was headed.
Just as she brought up the idea of taking a break, I jumped right on board. She was taken aback, I don’t think she expected me to go along with it. So then the tables turned, and she starts saying the break isn’t a good idea. That she might “get comfortable being alone and not come back.” I reassured her it’s probably the healthiest thing we could do.
I really only went ahead and did all this because I’m tired of her doing this to me. Deciding suddenly that she’s not as committed as she has led me to believe. And on top of that, this time around it was just silly. When I asked what I can do to change for her to be okay, she didn’t have any answers, besides to not make her late of course. It seemed like she was just intellectualizing being upset with me, turning it into something bigger.
So now we’re on a break out of spite. I know she’ll miss me, and I hope this gets all the break talk she’s been trying to lay on me out of her system. And well, if she decides she’s out after the week, guess I’m glad I learned she’s not committed now.
2023.05.28 22:45 lampert_kristof dungeon callouts
 | i started calling it "horsedick" back when pit of heressy came out. and not in english, im hungarian, so originally it would be "lófasz" submitted by lampert_kristof to destiny2 [link] [comments] now that I think about it, originally i called temple "fucked up horsedick" lmao |
2023.05.28 22:41 Essshayne AITA for not telling anyone I was going to a wrestling show?
I went to watch a wrestling show, and I had bought a ticket months ago in case the con my friend (c 32m) and I (34m) went to had nothing for Friday and Saturday night. I had gotten a floor seat, but when I got there the pre-show had gotten going so I stood in the corner, and during the "intermission ", an employee found that my seat was taken, so just ended up giving me a front row seat right in the corner where I watched the show on a monitor. (I was in the area where the guy had the "I checked out of the hospital to watch impact" was and spoke to him a few times.
At one point they asked our section to cheer and act excited for the cameras for an idea where I was (opposite to the entrance ramp). I remained seated for most of the night while watching the previously mentioned live broadcast off the monitor on the table, but ended up caught on camera a few times either way. Some of my other friends noticed, and left various messages that "they would have gone if I invited them" sorta thing and said I was a "various insults including the mandatory asshole" for going alone and not even telling them I was going. I told them that none were in the area at all, and that I did post various updates that I had a ticket, but was apparently "a moron" to think they spend all their time on Facebook.
I mean I could have messaged them but didn't see the point as I was the only one in the province. So aita for not telling anyone I was going?
submitted by Essshayne to AmItheAsshole [link] [comments]
At one point they asked our section to cheer and act excited for the cameras for an idea where I was (opposite to the entrance ramp). I remained seated for most of the night while watching the previously mentioned live broadcast off the monitor on the table, but ended up caught on camera a few times either way. Some of my other friends noticed, and left various messages that "they would have gone if I invited them" sorta thing and said I was a "various insults including the mandatory asshole" for going alone and not even telling them I was going. I told them that none were in the area at all, and that I did post various updates that I had a ticket, but was apparently "a moron" to think they spend all their time on Facebook.
I mean I could have messaged them but didn't see the point as I was the only one in the province. So aita for not telling anyone I was going?
2023.05.28 22:41 hotheadnchickn Tendonosis that won’t improve
Hi all, 38F here, would love some advice or perspectives. Health history: healthy weight, chronic migraine controlled with Botox, low-dose gabapentin for sleep, and some minor and fluctuating autoimmune symptoms (UCTD). History of tendon issues - tendon and nerve RSI issues in arms that have been a problem for a decade, also tendonosis in glutes from weight lifting that still has minor symptoms after about 8 months of PT. Minorly hypermobile but EDS has been ruled out.
About two years ago, I woke up one day with terrible pain in my sit bone area on both sides. I had been doing yoga for a few years and “yoga butt” is a common injury - tho I was very careful about not overstretching, did strength training as well as yoga, and had not had any pain leading up to that morning. Sitting or stretching the hamstring triggers pain at the ischial tuberosity that will throb at night and can last for days. My walking capacity was also reduced.
I bagan PT with the diagnosis of proximal hamstring tendonopathy. I started with isometrics and working up to include a number of eccentric exercises. My sitting tolerance slowly increased (but not stretching). Things were going well.
Nine months later, I took a long weekend trip, driving five hours each way. I was nervous but had no pain on the way there or after the drive. No pain on the drive back either. But the next day I woke up with really bad pain.
We reduced my PT exercises and slowly worked back up. The left side recovered but the right never really did. I could sit for an hour at a time by arranging hand towels so that there was no pressure on the ischial tuberosity.
Despite PT that I did religiously (and I believe my PT is very skilled and knowledgable) it just didn’t improve. Last fall, a year and a half after the original injury, I started seeing a very highly regarded local ortho doc. Imaging showed tendonosis that looked mild with some calcifications.
We started with a cortisone injection to the bursa. I was very sore after and I could no longer sit upright even with my hand towel arrangement. That was November and I have not been able to sit properly upright without instant pain since then. Doc and I were surprised by this result. My workout capacity has never gone back up to what it was before this procedure.
In January we tried dry needling of the tendon. Doc said he could feel scar tissue as he did it which was a good sign it might help. Again soreness and no detectable improvement. Again had to reduce PT load and slowly try to work back up.
In April, we did PRP. My baseline soreness is increased since this procedure, my exercise capacity has seriously reduced, and my walking capacity (before pissing off the tendon) had reduced from about 10k to 5k.
Dr said PRP was the last option.
I am really disabled - I can’t sit at a restaurant or dinner table, I can’t drive more than about fifteen minutes, I can’t fly, I can’t work sitting, I have had to cancel important plans, and I’m just going to Zoom events so I can do them reclined. My professional and social life are very impacted. I also hurt my tricep tendons by the elbow working on a laptop reclined for a few weeks instead of at my ergo setup - they also don’t seem to be healing well even tho I’m completely using voice for computing now.
My PT (my most trusted person in this) suggested I don’t do more needle-based interventions for the leg and maybe try blood flow restriction therapy.
No one understand why my body had reacted as it has to these interventions, why I progress slowly in PT in general with all these injuries, why I am so prone to tendon injuries, or what to do next.
I’ll see the ortho again soon but he already told me there’s nothing he can offer after PRP. Would love your ideas or suggestions about what is wrong and how to fix it.
submitted by hotheadnchickn to AskDocs [link] [comments]
About two years ago, I woke up one day with terrible pain in my sit bone area on both sides. I had been doing yoga for a few years and “yoga butt” is a common injury - tho I was very careful about not overstretching, did strength training as well as yoga, and had not had any pain leading up to that morning. Sitting or stretching the hamstring triggers pain at the ischial tuberosity that will throb at night and can last for days. My walking capacity was also reduced.
I bagan PT with the diagnosis of proximal hamstring tendonopathy. I started with isometrics and working up to include a number of eccentric exercises. My sitting tolerance slowly increased (but not stretching). Things were going well.
Nine months later, I took a long weekend trip, driving five hours each way. I was nervous but had no pain on the way there or after the drive. No pain on the drive back either. But the next day I woke up with really bad pain.
We reduced my PT exercises and slowly worked back up. The left side recovered but the right never really did. I could sit for an hour at a time by arranging hand towels so that there was no pressure on the ischial tuberosity.
Despite PT that I did religiously (and I believe my PT is very skilled and knowledgable) it just didn’t improve. Last fall, a year and a half after the original injury, I started seeing a very highly regarded local ortho doc. Imaging showed tendonosis that looked mild with some calcifications.
We started with a cortisone injection to the bursa. I was very sore after and I could no longer sit upright even with my hand towel arrangement. That was November and I have not been able to sit properly upright without instant pain since then. Doc and I were surprised by this result. My workout capacity has never gone back up to what it was before this procedure.
In January we tried dry needling of the tendon. Doc said he could feel scar tissue as he did it which was a good sign it might help. Again soreness and no detectable improvement. Again had to reduce PT load and slowly try to work back up.
In April, we did PRP. My baseline soreness is increased since this procedure, my exercise capacity has seriously reduced, and my walking capacity (before pissing off the tendon) had reduced from about 10k to 5k.
Dr said PRP was the last option.
I am really disabled - I can’t sit at a restaurant or dinner table, I can’t drive more than about fifteen minutes, I can’t fly, I can’t work sitting, I have had to cancel important plans, and I’m just going to Zoom events so I can do them reclined. My professional and social life are very impacted. I also hurt my tricep tendons by the elbow working on a laptop reclined for a few weeks instead of at my ergo setup - they also don’t seem to be healing well even tho I’m completely using voice for computing now.
My PT (my most trusted person in this) suggested I don’t do more needle-based interventions for the leg and maybe try blood flow restriction therapy.
No one understand why my body had reacted as it has to these interventions, why I progress slowly in PT in general with all these injuries, why I am so prone to tendon injuries, or what to do next.
I’ll see the ortho again soon but he already told me there’s nothing he can offer after PRP. Would love your ideas or suggestions about what is wrong and how to fix it.
2023.05.28 22:40 TheCatSpacePirate Help with Larch
 | Inherited two planks 50mm thick and 1600mm long. submitted by TheCatSpacePirate to woodworking [link] [comments] My plan is to make a table and my SO wants it to mach our interior (as colse to walnut as possible). Tried staining it but my SO wants it to be a smoother surface but with this color. So, to my question. Do you think i should give them to a carpenter that can put them in a Planer or is there a better way to make the lines in the wood come forth? A more "professional" and cleaner surface is the goal. Any ideas are welcome, thanks in advance. |