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2016.08.03 20:27 tonyzorin CloudBerry sub-reddit
This is a MSP360's (formerly CloudBerry Lab's) subreddit where you can report a bug, ask for a change in the product, suggest a feature, or start a general discussion. www.cloudberrylab.com We moved to https://www.reddit.com/MSP360/
2011.06.15 18:20 HighBeamHater Bitcoin Mining Forums: Turning Computers Into Cash Since 2011
The official bitcoin mining forum / subreddit / chat room / place to be!
2023.06.10 19:04 MonsieurJongleur Why Reddit is no longer my home on the internet
First of all, I support the blackout, and believe it should go on indefinitely. However, that will not be my decision, as I will be removing myself as head moderator, and deleting all my comments.
I fundamentally believe that if you don't like how a site treats its users, then the only real leverage you have is not to participate. Especially moderators, who put in the hours to make the site enjoyable for the average reader. Without moderators, most spaces on the internet are spammy, hateful, and bleak. That being said, it’s not like I plan to nuke this community. If paratactical and the rest of the modteam want to continue fighting the good fight, I’m not going to stand in their way.
It was difficult to articulate my thoughts without falling back to a basic "the only winning move is not to play," which can also be fairly interpreted as "taking your ball and going home." I don't really care how other people characterize it, but it's personally annoying to me to not be able to explain my position.
Then I read the Corey Doctorow essay, The Enshittification of Tiktok: How Platforms Die which clarified my ideas immensely, so I thought I'd share, in my last act of content creation.
It's really worth reading, but the outline is this:
People like to point out Participation Inequality, the fact of life that 90% of users are lurkers. But from an enshittification perspective, it doesn't matter that they're lurkers. As long as their eyeballs land on ads, they're worth just as much as the most active supermod.
Or are they?
I left Instagram once I stopped being able to see only the people I followed, in reverse chrono order. Facebook even earlier than that, because they started hiding the posts of the local businesses I WANTED to follow-- how else will I see which act is playing on Thursday nights at my local watering hole?
Clearly, Facebook and Instagram still exist. Whether they are enjoyable to visit or engage on is neither here nor there. So the 'death' of platforms that Doctorow posits is more of an existential death -- the platforms lose what made them dynamic and engaging, which is the creativity and authentic engagement of their userbase.
Reddit won't die evenly. /AskHistorians, which has extremely high moderation standards, and is already struggling under the huge influx of nonsense ChatGPT comments will probably lock itself down.
More casual communities, like /DIY or /Gardening, will probably still enjoy authentically user-generated content, and subs like /whatisthisthing and /tipofmytongue can continue to have casual commentary that is simple to produce (in contrast to long-form, thoughtful, in-depth contributions like in AskHistorians)
And of course, that's the experience of reddit as it currently exists. But with more limited mod tools (see this AskHistorians thread for receipts on how long reddit has been promising effective tools for) I'd expect to see a steep decline in the quality of the content in aggregate.
Think about the number of repost bots. The number of comment-stealing bots. The amount of astroturfing and spam that you see on the daily, the stuff that gets through the current tools. Now take those tools away.
I mean, it'll be like Facebook, only with more porn. So clearly that won't be a dealbreaker for a lot of users. But it's a dealbreaker for me.
But of course it’s not like they’re going to turn the servers off. FFS, even Twitter still has the lights on, in spite of its laughable mismanagement. They’re not going to turn the servers off until they’ve extracted every bit of profit they can. How long did Google+ stay online until someone mercifully pulled the plug? 2019
But it won’t be my home.
It won’t be a place I commit time and energy and engagement to. I won’t follow subs I’m expert in and try to contribute answers when people ask questions. I won’t create content to share, and I definitely won’t moderate. I will treat it like the extractive relationship that it is-- get what I want out of the platform while leaving as few of my personal details behind for them to leverage.
It’s kind of ironic, actually, that the reddit that hates personal promotion will create a site where the only people who will bother making content will be doing it with the intent to monetize it somehow. (Which I am all for! The makers and indie creators who are doing the work of really top tier content creation. Rather you do that than PPC!)
I only want to make you aware, as I was pleased to discover, that it’s not that I am “getting too old” for a given platform, but simply that I remember when a given platform was less shitty than it is now.
And it's gotten shitty for a foundational reason, as inescapable as the turn of the seasons - the extractive nature of accepting VC funding means that the platform is obliged, little-by-little, to ruin it, in pursuit of investor returns.
To fix this you’d have to ban investing, which would simultaneously kill many of the weird moonshots we enjoy about the internet, past and present. So.
submitted by MonsieurJongleur to AskWomenOver30 [link] [comments]
I fundamentally believe that if you don't like how a site treats its users, then the only real leverage you have is not to participate. Especially moderators, who put in the hours to make the site enjoyable for the average reader. Without moderators, most spaces on the internet are spammy, hateful, and bleak. That being said, it’s not like I plan to nuke this community. If paratactical and the rest of the modteam want to continue fighting the good fight, I’m not going to stand in their way.
It was difficult to articulate my thoughts without falling back to a basic "the only winning move is not to play," which can also be fairly interpreted as "taking your ball and going home." I don't really care how other people characterize it, but it's personally annoying to me to not be able to explain my position.
Then I read the Corey Doctorow essay, The Enshittification of Tiktok: How Platforms Die which clarified my ideas immensely, so I thought I'd share, in my last act of content creation.
It's really worth reading, but the outline is this:
1) a platform needs users to exist, so at first, it serves the users, until the users are locked in.
2) then, it needs advertising to be profitable, so then it serves businesses, until the businesses are locked in. Obviously, this is unenjoyable for the users, but the platform deserves to make money, right? So, we try to ignore the fact that we are the product, and our allegiance to the platform is actually just a tool to maximize value extraction.
3) Finally, the investors want to get paid, and that means they have to maximize the value extracted from the advertisers AND the users. Which is where we are today on reddit. Spez can't have 20% of the users not being served ads, even if they are the power users-- moderators, content contributors, or commentors.
Every Eyeball is Equal Under Spez
Except /blind. Sorry about your luck!People like to point out Participation Inequality, the fact of life that 90% of users are lurkers. But from an enshittification perspective, it doesn't matter that they're lurkers. As long as their eyeballs land on ads, they're worth just as much as the most active supermod.
Or are they?
I left Instagram once I stopped being able to see only the people I followed, in reverse chrono order. Facebook even earlier than that, because they started hiding the posts of the local businesses I WANTED to follow-- how else will I see which act is playing on Thursday nights at my local watering hole?
Clearly, Facebook and Instagram still exist. Whether they are enjoyable to visit or engage on is neither here nor there. So the 'death' of platforms that Doctorow posits is more of an existential death -- the platforms lose what made them dynamic and engaging, which is the creativity and authentic engagement of their userbase.
Rumors of Reddit’s imminent death are exaggerated*
*due to the skewed incentives in the venture classReddit won't die evenly. /AskHistorians, which has extremely high moderation standards, and is already struggling under the huge influx of nonsense ChatGPT comments will probably lock itself down.
More casual communities, like /DIY or /Gardening, will probably still enjoy authentically user-generated content, and subs like /whatisthisthing and /tipofmytongue can continue to have casual commentary that is simple to produce (in contrast to long-form, thoughtful, in-depth contributions like in AskHistorians)
And of course, that's the experience of reddit as it currently exists. But with more limited mod tools (see this AskHistorians thread for receipts on how long reddit has been promising effective tools for) I'd expect to see a steep decline in the quality of the content in aggregate.
Think about the number of repost bots. The number of comment-stealing bots. The amount of astroturfing and spam that you see on the daily, the stuff that gets through the current tools. Now take those tools away.
I mean, it'll be like Facebook, only with more porn. So clearly that won't be a dealbreaker for a lot of users. But it's a dealbreaker for me.
But of course it’s not like they’re going to turn the servers off. FFS, even Twitter still has the lights on, in spite of its laughable mismanagement. They’re not going to turn the servers off until they’ve extracted every bit of profit they can. How long did Google+ stay online until someone mercifully pulled the plug? 2019
So long, and thanks for all the fish
I don’t need to convince you to take your ball and go home. Stay if you like. I’ll probably maintain at least one open account to occasionally post on /whatisthisbug, in the same way that I occasionally log into Facebook to check out baby pictures shared by people I went to high school with.But it won’t be my home.
It won’t be a place I commit time and energy and engagement to. I won’t follow subs I’m expert in and try to contribute answers when people ask questions. I won’t create content to share, and I definitely won’t moderate. I will treat it like the extractive relationship that it is-- get what I want out of the platform while leaving as few of my personal details behind for them to leverage.
It’s kind of ironic, actually, that the reddit that hates personal promotion will create a site where the only people who will bother making content will be doing it with the intent to monetize it somehow. (Which I am all for! The makers and indie creators who are doing the work of really top tier content creation. Rather you do that than PPC!)
I only want to make you aware, as I was pleased to discover, that it’s not that I am “getting too old” for a given platform, but simply that I remember when a given platform was less shitty than it is now.
And it's gotten shitty for a foundational reason, as inescapable as the turn of the seasons - the extractive nature of accepting VC funding means that the platform is obliged, little-by-little, to ruin it, in pursuit of investor returns.
To fix this you’d have to ban investing, which would simultaneously kill many of the weird moonshots we enjoy about the internet, past and present. So.
All you can do is pay attention to when your platform of choice passes your personal threshold of enshittening -- whether that’s Reddit, Twitter, or Facebook; Uber, Lyft, AirBNB; Amazon, eBay, Paypal -- and invest your energy into something new.
2023.06.10 19:03 AtmosphereExisting19 iPhone 4 wouldn't start working
Hi, so i got an iPhone 4, I restored it through iTunes (because the old user forgot the passcode of it and it was already disabled because of how many times they tried to unlock it), it factory reset was done, it started and all good, i put my lang., country, linked it to my wifi too, put a SIM card. Then when it asked for the Apple ID for activation, i added my apple id and password, then continue. the apple logo showed up, and it restarted to the hello screen, i tried multiple times it just wouldn't work.
it will always drive me back to the hello screen and ask me to swipe then choose language, then i tried to log my Apple ID in it through my laptop, it told me that I can't use my Apple ID to activate the iPhone.
I hope somebody knows what up with it, I searched for hours and couldn't find the answer, i am sorry if my post is not suitable for this subreddit, please i need help, this iPhone is very important for me.
submitted by AtmosphereExisting19 to techsupport [link] [comments]
it will always drive me back to the hello screen and ask me to swipe then choose language, then i tried to log my Apple ID in it through my laptop, it told me that I can't use my Apple ID to activate the iPhone.
I hope somebody knows what up with it, I searched for hours and couldn't find the answer, i am sorry if my post is not suitable for this subreddit, please i need help, this iPhone is very important for me.
2023.06.10 19:03 FunukiShirou Spartan Gear Pegasus has a problem with the key mappings.
Basically, the new yboard that I just got (name in title) for some reason every time I press the combination of Shift + ArrowKey Up returns the '?'. Since I'm on a laptop, I tried a few thnigs like switching from wireless to wired, testing the timings of my input and I found out that for Shift + Any other arrow key I get the desired output , except for that particular combination. Pressing Shift (On laptop) + Arrowkey (On keyboard) doesn't do this which is even more weird. After extensive research (googling similiar thnigs in hopes of an anwser) I cannot deduce anything nor do I know how to swtich the input. An online test showed that Shift + ArrowKey Up somehow maps to '/'which when paired up with Shift gives '?' so I guess this may be the issue but like I said I don't know how to reset the input to output mappins. Any help?
submitted by FunukiShirou to AnnePro [link] [comments]
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2023.06.10 19:01 AutoModerator Andrew Tate - The Real World (Complete Course)
Get Andrew Tate - The Real World by chatting me on +44 759 388 0762 on Telegram/Whatsapp.
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submitted by AutoModerator to TheRealWorldzTate [link] [comments]
I have Andrew Tate - The Real World.
Andrew Tate - The Real World is your ticket out of the Matrix.
The Real World is a global community of like-minded individuals striving to acquire an abundance of wealth.
After being banned Andrew Tate created The Real World as a means to teach everyone how to get rich, outside of the reach of the Matrix.
For the first time in history you will read and learn things outside of the Matrix control.
The Real World by Andrew Tate comes with its own complete infrastructure - servers, university and even own bank.
Copywriting, Freelancing, Amazon FBA and more is covered inside Andrew Tate's The Real World.
To get Andrew Tate - The Real World contact me on:
Whatsapp/Telegram: +44 759 388 0762
Reddit DM - u/smashbike
Email: silverlakestore[@]yandex.com (remove the brackets)
2023.06.10 19:00 SkittishReflections I was Forced to Live a Nightmare
When you're rich enough, you get perks you can only dream of. Literally. But somehow, my paradise turned into hell.
Have you ever had a dream so amazing, you wished you could relive it? Explore it? Relish it? Well, when you're rich enough, you don't have to wish. It's a reality thanks to dream banks. You may have heard of them and their pricy services, which include recording, saving, and projecting dreams.
For example, if you'd like a dream recorded, you can book one of their luxurious suites for the night, where the dream techs will fit you with a special helmet and leave you to rest. The next morning, they'll replay the recorded dream for you via the helmet and ask if you want to shell out the extra bucks to save it. If you don't, they'll delete it and you can pay to book for another time to try again.
If you do decide to save it, you must select an item within the dream that will act as the exit key. (This will come in handy during projections.) While still wearing the helmet, you must touch the item, and the dream techs will label those electric signals as the key.
Afterwards, everything is saved under your name, and you can now relive your dream at any time by booking a suite for three, five, or eight hours. Unlike recordings, during projections, you don't have to wait for sleep to come. After you enjoy a snack of your choice, the helmet is fitted and you're immediately transported to your dream, where you have free will and can enjoy it at your leisure. And if you ever need to leave early, this is when you touch the key, which will shut down the helmet right away.
In my case, the key is the stegosaurus leather rug I have hanging on the wall of my throne room. I never have a reason to touch it otherwise, making it a perfect key. I've also never had to touch it. Experiencing life as an all-powerful, worshipped being who lives on my own planet and hunts dinosaurs in my spare time, I relished my dream to the last second.
Yes, the fees are exorbitant, but at the time, I felt it was worth it. The techs were skilled, the system was sleek, and the dreams were private. Each could only be unlocked by the unique brainwaves of the dreamer.
Or so I thought.
My literal nightmare began when I booked a five-hour projection on a rainy Friday afternoon. After taking a sip of champagne to wash down the cranberry brie bites, I settled into the cool silk sheets with a smile. My usual dream tech smiled back as she fastened my helmet, and the last thing I heard was her wishing me pleasant dreams before I was plunged into darkness.
I waited for the split-second adjustment from reality to the dream world, and my confusion grew when I didn't find myself on my throne surrounded by fawning gods and goddesses.
Instead, I found myself in the middle of an endless street. Alone. There were no cars, no life, not even wind. Towering street lamps lined the sidewalk as far as I could see, arcing over the road and tinting everything an eerie red. Behind them, identical buildings stood side by side, silent, their dark, narrow windows hollow.
My pulse spiking, I whipped around. The other direction was just as endless. Uneasy confusion prickled beneath my skin. This had to be someone else's dream. The techs must have made a mistake. I didn't know how it was possible, but there was no other explanation.
My unease piqued as my situation sank in. I was in a stranger's dream and I didn't know the key. I was stuck here until my five hours ran out. Or until the techs realized their mistake. I was ready to rip them a new one once I was out, but until then, I had no choice but to wait.
I studied my surroundings with a frown before I walked over to the curb and sat down, and that was when I noticed I couldn't feel anything. I also noticed I was naked. It didn't matter. There was no one here, and none of this was real anyway.
Time passed, and I tried to distract myself from my nettled offense by humming, but no sound came out. Sitting up, I took a deep breath and screamed. Not even a squeak was heard. I slapped my hand against the ground. Nothing. This place was like a black hole of the senses.
Sighing, I lay down on my back and stared at the red light above me, wondering if I could fall asleep in a dream. I tried, but the more I wished to escape this silent, crimson prison, the more it seemed to come into focus. Soon, the utter lack of noise and movement grew from slightly unnerving to completely intolerable.
There was no way I could wait. I'd go insane. I had to get out of here. I had to find the key.
Jumping up, I ran to the nearest building and wrenched open the door, and a pitch black void greeted me. I gasped, and gasped again as it felt like my very breath was being suctioned out of my lungs. Panicking, silent wheezes rattled in my chest as I struggled to yank myself out of the vacuum, jerking my limbs and bucking my body until I toppled over backwards on the sidewalk.
Gulping in fitful breaths, I scrambled to my feet and ran down the road without looking back, my wide eyes scanning the horizon for salvation. I just wanted out of here, but the hellish path stretched on forever, making me feel like I was running in place as every identical building and street lamp mocked me. Even my silent stomping and mute panting served to draw insanity closer.
And then, a person showed up.
There, in the distance.
With my hope spurred, I raced towards them, desperate. I didn't care who they were. I needed to break this monotony.
As I got closer, hope morphed to confusion, and then to despair. The person was me. It was a mirror, propped up across the entire street.
Sweat-soaked, I slowed down to a jog before I stopped right in front of my reflection. It was me alright, naked, exhausted, and frustrated. But the eyes, something was off about the eyes. With an anxious frown, I stepped closer, staring into them, and they stared back …
… until they glanced behind me.
I gasped and jumped away, and so did my reflection … before it glanced over my shoulder again.
A chill trickled down my spine. My reflection had nothing behind it but the empty street, so I gulped and turned around, and my mouth fell open in a silent scream as a lovecraftian behemoth barrelled its way towards me. With its slick shell gleaming red beneath the lights, it slammed down one spiny tentacle after the other as its five mouths bared their dripping, concentric fangs.
Drenched in undiluted horror, tremors gripped my body as I stumbled away until my back was against the mirror. I knew death was a foolproof key in a dream, but I didn't know if this creature would kill me right away or leave me to suffer in agony until my five hours were up.
With it only inches away, I squeezed my eyes shut and pressed myself into the mirror, and my stomach flipped as I fell backwards. I opened my mouth to gasp, but there was nothing for me to draw in. Floating in an airless void, I flailed and thrashed, my wild eyes scanning the darkness for answers as I began to spin around.
Although death would free me, one of my greatest fears was suffocating. On one of my weightless rotations, a red, glass cube passed me by, and I grabbed it, hoping it was a breathing device. I brought it close to my face, and I gawked at what it held within.
Me.
Surrounded by identical buildings and red street lamps while a lovecraftian behemoth tore me apart.
Horrified, I threw the cube as far as I could and increased my efforts to escape this void. Yet all the flailing and thrashing was for naught as the darkness revealed no end. My eyesight began to go red as my lungs spasmed, and I clawed at my throat as my pulse stuttered in my chest.
The red kept growing and growing until it engulfed my entire vision, and I gave up. There was nothing to do but face my fears and die. With my straining heart lumbering, I let myself go limp as I stared at the red and waited.
And waited.
And waited.
I wasn't dying.
In fact, I could breathe just fine.
Frowning, I opened my eyes, and intense unease spread through my core. Above me, a red moon had taken up the entire sky, each one of its craters crystal clear, like eyes watching me. I turned my head away, and I realized I was in a park, laying down on the grass. Sitting up, I blinked in surprise at the pond right beside me, its opaque water reflecting the moon's red light. Ducks were swimming in a circle across its surface, their movements smooth with nary a splash.
Trees surrounded us, so dense I couldn't tell when one began and the other ended. It was mind-numbingly quiet here as well, and I still couldn't feel anything or make any noise, but at least the ducks were moving. This place seemed more tolerable than the last, and I was willing to wait out my five hours here. I hoped at least an hour had passed already, but with dreams, one never knew. All I knew was that I was too exhausted to search for the key. And too scared. I didn't know whose dream this was, but they had to be masochistic if they saved this nightmare.
Curling up beside the pond, I worked on calming myself down as I watched the ducks swim in their systematic circle over and over and over. I tried counting the rotations the way one would count sheep, but that still didn't lull me to sleep. I wished I'd chosen the three-hour projection, but at least I hadn't chosen the eight-hour one.
Distorted circus music crackled around me and I jolted up, my heart ricocheting in my chest. There was finally sound, but the last thing I wanted to hear was a cliche horror movie soundtrack. Gulping, I looked around. The music was coming from the trees, and my stomach dropped when I spied a shadow behind one of them. Then another. And another. They emerged into the crimson moonlight, and my blood turned to ice.
Clowns.
I whipped around, trembling to the rhythm of my frantic pulse. They were surrounding me. Dozens of them. As classic as any clown could be. Colorful clothes, big shoes, silly hair, exaggerated makeup. I wasn't scared of clowns, as long as they were where they belonged. And they didn't belong here, staring at me with big, empty eyes and yellow, toothy grins.
I tried to convince myself that they weren't dangerous since they didn't have weapons and didn't seem monstrous, but when they took a step closer in unison, I jumped back, nearly falling into the pond. The ducks remained oblivious, still swimming in their circle. The distorted circus music got louder, and my hair stood on end when I saw the grass ripple in front of each clown. They were sending something my way through the ground.
Panicking, I jumped into the pond, and I screamed as I sank right in. There was no bottom. There was no water either. The pond was filled with red, translucent spheres, each the size of a tennis ball. Still able to breathe, I began swimming through the spheres with clumsy breast strokes, just hoping I could end up as far away from the clowns as possible.
After swimming for what felt like enough time, I tried to swim up, until I realized I had no idea which direction I was facing. Remember a trick for those stuck in avalanches, I spat, but my glob of saliva just hovered in front of me. Before panic could set in, I noticed what looked like an office desk floating amidst the spheres in the distance. After blinking a few times to make sure it was really there, I swam towards it, desperate for any change in my situation.
It was an office desk, a wooden one with carved borders and locked drawers. Tucked beneath it was a stool, and the moment I pulled it out and set it under my ass, an office replaced the red spheres.
I grunted as gravity returned, and I looked around in bewilderment at the cluttered bookshelves and grimy floors. Dust was floating everywhere, highlighted by the red light filtering in through the blinds behind me. I jumped as a clock hanging on the wall chimed. Its glass was too dirty for me to tell the time, but I was glad I could hear. I coughed at the dust. And I could make noise. I dusted my hands. And I could feel. I could even smell, which I now wished I couldn't as I wrinkled my nose at the faint stench of rot.
After failing to read the spines of some of the books on the shelves, I studied the shadowy corners of the room. A slack-jawed skeleton hung in the far end, and a faded poster with anatomical diagrams curled off a cupboard. This had to be a doctor's office. Was the creator of this dream a doctor?
A silhouette slid in front of the frosted glass door, and I gulped as the knob began to turn. A hand reached in, gripping the edge one finger at a time, and my heart dropped as I knew this horror cliche was only going to be followed by another. Having no time to think, I slid off the stool and crouched beneath the desk, my hand over my mouth as cobwebs clung to me.
Praying spiders wouldn't swarm me, I peeked through a small slit in the wood, and I froze when an emaciated nurse walked in the room. Layers upon layers of blood coated her scrubs, so much so that I couldn't even tell what color they originally were. She had no shoes. No feet either. Just ankle stubs, and my stomach turned as I heard bone clunk against the tiles.
A surgical mask covered her face, as bloodstained as her scrubs, and grimy lab goggles obscured her eyes. I was grateful, because judging by the pus leaking out of her scabbed, balding scalp, I didn't want to know what her face looked like. The closer she got, the stronger the stench of rot became, and I struggled to keep myself from retching.
She stopped halfway into the room, and I gawked at her hands. They were transforming. Her fingers elongating into razor-edged blades. She then began to hunch over, and I cringed as her spine cracked and popped until she was as bent as a candy cane, her face staring at her pelvis.
As if that wasn't unsettling enough, her head creaked as it spun around 180 degrees, now facing the front, upside down. Right after, her arms shot to the ground, and I watched with increasing dread as she bent them at the elbows and wrists so they flanked her head like distorted T-Rex arms.
She spread her fingers out and took a few more steps towards me, and I held my breath, hoping she couldn't hear my rabid heart or smell my fear. Her ankle bones clicked and clacked against the tiles as she made her way around the desk, and I cowered as my frantic eyes searched for a weapon. I found none, but I did spy a brass button beside my head.
With her legs now an arms distance away, I had nothing to lose as I jammed my thumb into the button. The back of the desk flung open, and I scrambled to my feet and dashed out from my hiding place, screaming in response to the nurse screeching behind me. Bursting through the door, I held up my fists and began punching like a maniac in fearful anticipation of a horde of nurses swarming me.
Except I was no longer in a hospital. I was in an outdoor parking lot. Alone. And judging by the roiling red clouds, a storm was brewing. After a second to collect my bearings, I dove into the closest car, thankful it was unlocked. The moment I slammed the door shut, lightning blinded me as thunder cracked and the downpour began. Sighing in relief, I tried to shake away my adrenaline, but the bloodshot eyes in my rearview mirror reignited my panic.
Before I could react, a belt snapped over my neck, pinning my head back against the headrest. With a frightened wheeze, I clawed at the leather, and I flinched as hot, heavy breath wafted across my ear. Gagging at the putrid smell, I reached over, desperate to scratch my strangler's face or poke their eyes out.
I felt their greasy hair and tried to pull it, but my fingers refused to hold on. I tried again and again, using my nails for purchase, but the strands just kept slipping out of my weak grip. Shifting focus, I tried to claw at their eyes, but it felt as though I was moving through molasses as my hand slid down their face. Once I felt a wet, bulbous eye, I tried to scratch it, but I didn't have enough strength to do anything damage.
My frustration clashed with my terror and I tried to punch them, but my arm swung back in slow motion and merely prodded a stubbly cheek. Tears welled in my eyes as I writhed and gasped, my strangler's laugh adding insult to injury. Despite knowing death will set me free, fear and self-preservation rummaged through my mind, searching for a solution. And they found one.
Hoping I had enough grip and energy, I reached down and found the reclining lever. Wrapping my fingers around it tight, I jerked it up and heaved my body back, and I gulped in a deep breath as I fell backwards, the belt now slack. Not at all prepared to face my attacker, I slipped out from beneath the belt, flung open the door, and zoomed out into the storm.
Sheets of rain obscured my vision, but not enough for me to see that the keys were left inside a red convertible. After making sure no one was hiding in the back, I jumped in, started the engine, and took off, the wheels squealing through the puddles. A sole street curled down a hill, and I took it, adrenaline pumping in waves through my quivering body.
This rush was a confusing mixture of exhilaration and apprehension. I wanted out, but I wasn't giving up. I made it this far, and I was going to survive every cliche this masochist dreamed up. Sharks? Snakes? Zombies? Bring it on. And afterwards, I was going to detail every single trial and tribulation I went through as I sued the dream bank for all the trauma they caused me.
Up ahead, the road curved, and I gasped as it ended in a cliff. I slammed the breaks, but they didn't do anything. Breaking out in a cold sweat, I slammed them again and again as I yanked the hand break as far as it would go. The car refused to slow down, and I cursed myself for not anticipating this cliche. In a move of desperation, I swerved, but it wasn't enough as the car careened over the edge and took me with it.
My heart hung in my throat as I hung on to the steering wheel, my knuckles white, my screams frozen in my lungs, the raindrops like needles. An endless body of water spread below me, and I knew sharks were my next challenge. I screwed my eyes shut as I awaited the inevitable plunge …
… and I gasped as the car crashed against the surface.
I lurched forward, and I cried out as I bashed my forehead against the wheel. Groaning, I leaned back, my ears ringing as I looked around, disoriented. I was still in the convertible, but we were right side up, having crashed into the concrete wall of an indoor garage. Blood trickled down my face and I reached up, only to feel around my head in shock.
I was wearing the helmet.
Why was it in the dream?
Or had I made it out?
I looked down. I wasn't naked. My pyjamas were plastered to my sweat-soaked skin. I was out. I looked around at the broken glass and mangled metal in confusion. But if I was finally out, why was I in a car and not between silk sheets?
I removed the helmet, and a yell from behind made me jump. I turned to see one of the dream techs running towards me. Was she always that skinny? And why were her scrubs red instead of the usual blue?
She made it to me, panting as she took the helmet out of my hands, and I wrinkled my nose at her unpleasant breath. She said I'd had a nightmare and began sleepwalking, and I'd left the dream bank and stole a car from their underground parking before she triggered a wake-up signal in the helmet, which made me crash.
I stared at her, not believing what I was hearing. I told her I'd booked a projection, not a recording, and she gave me a concerned frown and claimed the opposite. Anger replaced my confusion, and I called her a liar and accused them of misconduct, and she reminded me that dreams can only be unlocked by the dreamer.
Furious, I cursed at her as I tried to get out of the car, demanding to see my file. She was quick to tell me not to move in case I made my injuries worse as she pulled out her phone and said she was going to call an ambulance.
While I sat there and waited, fuming, I glimpsed my reflection in the dangling rearview mirror. Unease rippled beneath my skin and I sat up, grabbing the mirror and angling it to show my neck.
There was an angry red mark across it.
As though I was recently strangled.
Trembling, I tilted the mirror up.
Cobwebs. Stuck in my hair.
Dumbstruck in utter stupefaction, I scanned the rest of my body. My pyjamas were dirty and there was black under my fingernails, but the rest of my examination was cut short by tinny circus music. A chill jolted down my spine and I whipped my head to face the dream tech. That was her ringtone. She smiled as she answered the call, and I drew back at her yellow, toothy grin.
What was going on? I was out of the dream, I knew I was. Had everything been real? What had the dream bank done with me? Done to me?
Ambulance sirens wailed as they entered the underground parking, and the flashing red lights reflecting off the walls triggered my recent traumas. With terror-fueled adrenaline flooding my veins, I jerked my legs free of the wreck, jumped out of the car, and booked it, the dream tech's yells merging with the screeching sirens behind me.
SR
submitted by SkittishReflections to nosleep [link] [comments]
Have you ever had a dream so amazing, you wished you could relive it? Explore it? Relish it? Well, when you're rich enough, you don't have to wish. It's a reality thanks to dream banks. You may have heard of them and their pricy services, which include recording, saving, and projecting dreams.
For example, if you'd like a dream recorded, you can book one of their luxurious suites for the night, where the dream techs will fit you with a special helmet and leave you to rest. The next morning, they'll replay the recorded dream for you via the helmet and ask if you want to shell out the extra bucks to save it. If you don't, they'll delete it and you can pay to book for another time to try again.
If you do decide to save it, you must select an item within the dream that will act as the exit key. (This will come in handy during projections.) While still wearing the helmet, you must touch the item, and the dream techs will label those electric signals as the key.
Afterwards, everything is saved under your name, and you can now relive your dream at any time by booking a suite for three, five, or eight hours. Unlike recordings, during projections, you don't have to wait for sleep to come. After you enjoy a snack of your choice, the helmet is fitted and you're immediately transported to your dream, where you have free will and can enjoy it at your leisure. And if you ever need to leave early, this is when you touch the key, which will shut down the helmet right away.
In my case, the key is the stegosaurus leather rug I have hanging on the wall of my throne room. I never have a reason to touch it otherwise, making it a perfect key. I've also never had to touch it. Experiencing life as an all-powerful, worshipped being who lives on my own planet and hunts dinosaurs in my spare time, I relished my dream to the last second.
Yes, the fees are exorbitant, but at the time, I felt it was worth it. The techs were skilled, the system was sleek, and the dreams were private. Each could only be unlocked by the unique brainwaves of the dreamer.
Or so I thought.
My literal nightmare began when I booked a five-hour projection on a rainy Friday afternoon. After taking a sip of champagne to wash down the cranberry brie bites, I settled into the cool silk sheets with a smile. My usual dream tech smiled back as she fastened my helmet, and the last thing I heard was her wishing me pleasant dreams before I was plunged into darkness.
I waited for the split-second adjustment from reality to the dream world, and my confusion grew when I didn't find myself on my throne surrounded by fawning gods and goddesses.
Instead, I found myself in the middle of an endless street. Alone. There were no cars, no life, not even wind. Towering street lamps lined the sidewalk as far as I could see, arcing over the road and tinting everything an eerie red. Behind them, identical buildings stood side by side, silent, their dark, narrow windows hollow.
My pulse spiking, I whipped around. The other direction was just as endless. Uneasy confusion prickled beneath my skin. This had to be someone else's dream. The techs must have made a mistake. I didn't know how it was possible, but there was no other explanation.
My unease piqued as my situation sank in. I was in a stranger's dream and I didn't know the key. I was stuck here until my five hours ran out. Or until the techs realized their mistake. I was ready to rip them a new one once I was out, but until then, I had no choice but to wait.
I studied my surroundings with a frown before I walked over to the curb and sat down, and that was when I noticed I couldn't feel anything. I also noticed I was naked. It didn't matter. There was no one here, and none of this was real anyway.
Time passed, and I tried to distract myself from my nettled offense by humming, but no sound came out. Sitting up, I took a deep breath and screamed. Not even a squeak was heard. I slapped my hand against the ground. Nothing. This place was like a black hole of the senses.
Sighing, I lay down on my back and stared at the red light above me, wondering if I could fall asleep in a dream. I tried, but the more I wished to escape this silent, crimson prison, the more it seemed to come into focus. Soon, the utter lack of noise and movement grew from slightly unnerving to completely intolerable.
There was no way I could wait. I'd go insane. I had to get out of here. I had to find the key.
Jumping up, I ran to the nearest building and wrenched open the door, and a pitch black void greeted me. I gasped, and gasped again as it felt like my very breath was being suctioned out of my lungs. Panicking, silent wheezes rattled in my chest as I struggled to yank myself out of the vacuum, jerking my limbs and bucking my body until I toppled over backwards on the sidewalk.
Gulping in fitful breaths, I scrambled to my feet and ran down the road without looking back, my wide eyes scanning the horizon for salvation. I just wanted out of here, but the hellish path stretched on forever, making me feel like I was running in place as every identical building and street lamp mocked me. Even my silent stomping and mute panting served to draw insanity closer.
And then, a person showed up.
There, in the distance.
With my hope spurred, I raced towards them, desperate. I didn't care who they were. I needed to break this monotony.
As I got closer, hope morphed to confusion, and then to despair. The person was me. It was a mirror, propped up across the entire street.
Sweat-soaked, I slowed down to a jog before I stopped right in front of my reflection. It was me alright, naked, exhausted, and frustrated. But the eyes, something was off about the eyes. With an anxious frown, I stepped closer, staring into them, and they stared back …
… until they glanced behind me.
I gasped and jumped away, and so did my reflection … before it glanced over my shoulder again.
A chill trickled down my spine. My reflection had nothing behind it but the empty street, so I gulped and turned around, and my mouth fell open in a silent scream as a lovecraftian behemoth barrelled its way towards me. With its slick shell gleaming red beneath the lights, it slammed down one spiny tentacle after the other as its five mouths bared their dripping, concentric fangs.
Drenched in undiluted horror, tremors gripped my body as I stumbled away until my back was against the mirror. I knew death was a foolproof key in a dream, but I didn't know if this creature would kill me right away or leave me to suffer in agony until my five hours were up.
With it only inches away, I squeezed my eyes shut and pressed myself into the mirror, and my stomach flipped as I fell backwards. I opened my mouth to gasp, but there was nothing for me to draw in. Floating in an airless void, I flailed and thrashed, my wild eyes scanning the darkness for answers as I began to spin around.
Although death would free me, one of my greatest fears was suffocating. On one of my weightless rotations, a red, glass cube passed me by, and I grabbed it, hoping it was a breathing device. I brought it close to my face, and I gawked at what it held within.
Me.
Surrounded by identical buildings and red street lamps while a lovecraftian behemoth tore me apart.
Horrified, I threw the cube as far as I could and increased my efforts to escape this void. Yet all the flailing and thrashing was for naught as the darkness revealed no end. My eyesight began to go red as my lungs spasmed, and I clawed at my throat as my pulse stuttered in my chest.
The red kept growing and growing until it engulfed my entire vision, and I gave up. There was nothing to do but face my fears and die. With my straining heart lumbering, I let myself go limp as I stared at the red and waited.
And waited.
And waited.
I wasn't dying.
In fact, I could breathe just fine.
Frowning, I opened my eyes, and intense unease spread through my core. Above me, a red moon had taken up the entire sky, each one of its craters crystal clear, like eyes watching me. I turned my head away, and I realized I was in a park, laying down on the grass. Sitting up, I blinked in surprise at the pond right beside me, its opaque water reflecting the moon's red light. Ducks were swimming in a circle across its surface, their movements smooth with nary a splash.
Trees surrounded us, so dense I couldn't tell when one began and the other ended. It was mind-numbingly quiet here as well, and I still couldn't feel anything or make any noise, but at least the ducks were moving. This place seemed more tolerable than the last, and I was willing to wait out my five hours here. I hoped at least an hour had passed already, but with dreams, one never knew. All I knew was that I was too exhausted to search for the key. And too scared. I didn't know whose dream this was, but they had to be masochistic if they saved this nightmare.
Curling up beside the pond, I worked on calming myself down as I watched the ducks swim in their systematic circle over and over and over. I tried counting the rotations the way one would count sheep, but that still didn't lull me to sleep. I wished I'd chosen the three-hour projection, but at least I hadn't chosen the eight-hour one.
Distorted circus music crackled around me and I jolted up, my heart ricocheting in my chest. There was finally sound, but the last thing I wanted to hear was a cliche horror movie soundtrack. Gulping, I looked around. The music was coming from the trees, and my stomach dropped when I spied a shadow behind one of them. Then another. And another. They emerged into the crimson moonlight, and my blood turned to ice.
Clowns.
I whipped around, trembling to the rhythm of my frantic pulse. They were surrounding me. Dozens of them. As classic as any clown could be. Colorful clothes, big shoes, silly hair, exaggerated makeup. I wasn't scared of clowns, as long as they were where they belonged. And they didn't belong here, staring at me with big, empty eyes and yellow, toothy grins.
I tried to convince myself that they weren't dangerous since they didn't have weapons and didn't seem monstrous, but when they took a step closer in unison, I jumped back, nearly falling into the pond. The ducks remained oblivious, still swimming in their circle. The distorted circus music got louder, and my hair stood on end when I saw the grass ripple in front of each clown. They were sending something my way through the ground.
Panicking, I jumped into the pond, and I screamed as I sank right in. There was no bottom. There was no water either. The pond was filled with red, translucent spheres, each the size of a tennis ball. Still able to breathe, I began swimming through the spheres with clumsy breast strokes, just hoping I could end up as far away from the clowns as possible.
After swimming for what felt like enough time, I tried to swim up, until I realized I had no idea which direction I was facing. Remember a trick for those stuck in avalanches, I spat, but my glob of saliva just hovered in front of me. Before panic could set in, I noticed what looked like an office desk floating amidst the spheres in the distance. After blinking a few times to make sure it was really there, I swam towards it, desperate for any change in my situation.
It was an office desk, a wooden one with carved borders and locked drawers. Tucked beneath it was a stool, and the moment I pulled it out and set it under my ass, an office replaced the red spheres.
I grunted as gravity returned, and I looked around in bewilderment at the cluttered bookshelves and grimy floors. Dust was floating everywhere, highlighted by the red light filtering in through the blinds behind me. I jumped as a clock hanging on the wall chimed. Its glass was too dirty for me to tell the time, but I was glad I could hear. I coughed at the dust. And I could make noise. I dusted my hands. And I could feel. I could even smell, which I now wished I couldn't as I wrinkled my nose at the faint stench of rot.
After failing to read the spines of some of the books on the shelves, I studied the shadowy corners of the room. A slack-jawed skeleton hung in the far end, and a faded poster with anatomical diagrams curled off a cupboard. This had to be a doctor's office. Was the creator of this dream a doctor?
A silhouette slid in front of the frosted glass door, and I gulped as the knob began to turn. A hand reached in, gripping the edge one finger at a time, and my heart dropped as I knew this horror cliche was only going to be followed by another. Having no time to think, I slid off the stool and crouched beneath the desk, my hand over my mouth as cobwebs clung to me.
Praying spiders wouldn't swarm me, I peeked through a small slit in the wood, and I froze when an emaciated nurse walked in the room. Layers upon layers of blood coated her scrubs, so much so that I couldn't even tell what color they originally were. She had no shoes. No feet either. Just ankle stubs, and my stomach turned as I heard bone clunk against the tiles.
A surgical mask covered her face, as bloodstained as her scrubs, and grimy lab goggles obscured her eyes. I was grateful, because judging by the pus leaking out of her scabbed, balding scalp, I didn't want to know what her face looked like. The closer she got, the stronger the stench of rot became, and I struggled to keep myself from retching.
She stopped halfway into the room, and I gawked at her hands. They were transforming. Her fingers elongating into razor-edged blades. She then began to hunch over, and I cringed as her spine cracked and popped until she was as bent as a candy cane, her face staring at her pelvis.
As if that wasn't unsettling enough, her head creaked as it spun around 180 degrees, now facing the front, upside down. Right after, her arms shot to the ground, and I watched with increasing dread as she bent them at the elbows and wrists so they flanked her head like distorted T-Rex arms.
She spread her fingers out and took a few more steps towards me, and I held my breath, hoping she couldn't hear my rabid heart or smell my fear. Her ankle bones clicked and clacked against the tiles as she made her way around the desk, and I cowered as my frantic eyes searched for a weapon. I found none, but I did spy a brass button beside my head.
With her legs now an arms distance away, I had nothing to lose as I jammed my thumb into the button. The back of the desk flung open, and I scrambled to my feet and dashed out from my hiding place, screaming in response to the nurse screeching behind me. Bursting through the door, I held up my fists and began punching like a maniac in fearful anticipation of a horde of nurses swarming me.
Except I was no longer in a hospital. I was in an outdoor parking lot. Alone. And judging by the roiling red clouds, a storm was brewing. After a second to collect my bearings, I dove into the closest car, thankful it was unlocked. The moment I slammed the door shut, lightning blinded me as thunder cracked and the downpour began. Sighing in relief, I tried to shake away my adrenaline, but the bloodshot eyes in my rearview mirror reignited my panic.
Before I could react, a belt snapped over my neck, pinning my head back against the headrest. With a frightened wheeze, I clawed at the leather, and I flinched as hot, heavy breath wafted across my ear. Gagging at the putrid smell, I reached over, desperate to scratch my strangler's face or poke their eyes out.
I felt their greasy hair and tried to pull it, but my fingers refused to hold on. I tried again and again, using my nails for purchase, but the strands just kept slipping out of my weak grip. Shifting focus, I tried to claw at their eyes, but it felt as though I was moving through molasses as my hand slid down their face. Once I felt a wet, bulbous eye, I tried to scratch it, but I didn't have enough strength to do anything damage.
My frustration clashed with my terror and I tried to punch them, but my arm swung back in slow motion and merely prodded a stubbly cheek. Tears welled in my eyes as I writhed and gasped, my strangler's laugh adding insult to injury. Despite knowing death will set me free, fear and self-preservation rummaged through my mind, searching for a solution. And they found one.
Hoping I had enough grip and energy, I reached down and found the reclining lever. Wrapping my fingers around it tight, I jerked it up and heaved my body back, and I gulped in a deep breath as I fell backwards, the belt now slack. Not at all prepared to face my attacker, I slipped out from beneath the belt, flung open the door, and zoomed out into the storm.
Sheets of rain obscured my vision, but not enough for me to see that the keys were left inside a red convertible. After making sure no one was hiding in the back, I jumped in, started the engine, and took off, the wheels squealing through the puddles. A sole street curled down a hill, and I took it, adrenaline pumping in waves through my quivering body.
This rush was a confusing mixture of exhilaration and apprehension. I wanted out, but I wasn't giving up. I made it this far, and I was going to survive every cliche this masochist dreamed up. Sharks? Snakes? Zombies? Bring it on. And afterwards, I was going to detail every single trial and tribulation I went through as I sued the dream bank for all the trauma they caused me.
Up ahead, the road curved, and I gasped as it ended in a cliff. I slammed the breaks, but they didn't do anything. Breaking out in a cold sweat, I slammed them again and again as I yanked the hand break as far as it would go. The car refused to slow down, and I cursed myself for not anticipating this cliche. In a move of desperation, I swerved, but it wasn't enough as the car careened over the edge and took me with it.
My heart hung in my throat as I hung on to the steering wheel, my knuckles white, my screams frozen in my lungs, the raindrops like needles. An endless body of water spread below me, and I knew sharks were my next challenge. I screwed my eyes shut as I awaited the inevitable plunge …
… and I gasped as the car crashed against the surface.
I lurched forward, and I cried out as I bashed my forehead against the wheel. Groaning, I leaned back, my ears ringing as I looked around, disoriented. I was still in the convertible, but we were right side up, having crashed into the concrete wall of an indoor garage. Blood trickled down my face and I reached up, only to feel around my head in shock.
I was wearing the helmet.
Why was it in the dream?
Or had I made it out?
I looked down. I wasn't naked. My pyjamas were plastered to my sweat-soaked skin. I was out. I looked around at the broken glass and mangled metal in confusion. But if I was finally out, why was I in a car and not between silk sheets?
I removed the helmet, and a yell from behind made me jump. I turned to see one of the dream techs running towards me. Was she always that skinny? And why were her scrubs red instead of the usual blue?
She made it to me, panting as she took the helmet out of my hands, and I wrinkled my nose at her unpleasant breath. She said I'd had a nightmare and began sleepwalking, and I'd left the dream bank and stole a car from their underground parking before she triggered a wake-up signal in the helmet, which made me crash.
I stared at her, not believing what I was hearing. I told her I'd booked a projection, not a recording, and she gave me a concerned frown and claimed the opposite. Anger replaced my confusion, and I called her a liar and accused them of misconduct, and she reminded me that dreams can only be unlocked by the dreamer.
Furious, I cursed at her as I tried to get out of the car, demanding to see my file. She was quick to tell me not to move in case I made my injuries worse as she pulled out her phone and said she was going to call an ambulance.
While I sat there and waited, fuming, I glimpsed my reflection in the dangling rearview mirror. Unease rippled beneath my skin and I sat up, grabbing the mirror and angling it to show my neck.
There was an angry red mark across it.
As though I was recently strangled.
Trembling, I tilted the mirror up.
Cobwebs. Stuck in my hair.
Dumbstruck in utter stupefaction, I scanned the rest of my body. My pyjamas were dirty and there was black under my fingernails, but the rest of my examination was cut short by tinny circus music. A chill jolted down my spine and I whipped my head to face the dream tech. That was her ringtone. She smiled as she answered the call, and I drew back at her yellow, toothy grin.
What was going on? I was out of the dream, I knew I was. Had everything been real? What had the dream bank done with me? Done to me?
Ambulance sirens wailed as they entered the underground parking, and the flashing red lights reflecting off the walls triggered my recent traumas. With terror-fueled adrenaline flooding my veins, I jerked my legs free of the wreck, jumped out of the car, and booked it, the dream tech's yells merging with the screeching sirens behind me.
2023.06.10 18:59 Kanakravaatti After for so long they finally did the impossible...
It seemed impossible.
Unachievable even.
For years people kept asking for it and commenting it but Payday 2 refused. Every patch note and announcement. Unrelentless. But to no avail. How could you achieve it? When Payday 2 kept having tens of thousands of players month after month for years and no end in sight.
The 2015 weapon skins, hype train or the 2019 "end of paid DLC" or the Overkill's near bankruptcy moment couldn't do it. Not even the great H3H3 character pack could bring it. All hope seemed lost. But then. One day in our year 2023 it finally happened. Overkill finally released it. Just few months short before the possible release of Payday 3...
Dead Game.
"No continued Linux support, matchmaking with Epic Games rather than Steamworks, failed to join lobbies, full lobbies, fully reset side jobs and so, so much more." It was even more everyone had hoped for. There could be no more anti dead game if nobody could literally play the game anymore. It was brilliant.
Finally, we got our Dead Game.
I'm so proud Overkill would finally do this. I'm shaking and crying and shidding. It is beautiful. Thank you.
submitted by Kanakravaatti to paydaytheheist [link] [comments]
Unachievable even.
For years people kept asking for it and commenting it but Payday 2 refused. Every patch note and announcement. Unrelentless. But to no avail. How could you achieve it? When Payday 2 kept having tens of thousands of players month after month for years and no end in sight.
The 2015 weapon skins, hype train or the 2019 "end of paid DLC" or the Overkill's near bankruptcy moment couldn't do it. Not even the great H3H3 character pack could bring it. All hope seemed lost. But then. One day in our year 2023 it finally happened. Overkill finally released it. Just few months short before the possible release of Payday 3...
Dead Game.
"No continued Linux support, matchmaking with Epic Games rather than Steamworks, failed to join lobbies, full lobbies, fully reset side jobs and so, so much more." It was even more everyone had hoped for. There could be no more anti dead game if nobody could literally play the game anymore. It was brilliant.
Finally, we got our Dead Game.
I'm so proud Overkill would finally do this. I'm shaking and crying and shidding. It is beautiful. Thank you.
2023.06.10 18:59 danksnugglepuss Foremilk vs. Hindmilk
Hi fam,
Seeking literature/experiences on foremilk & hindmilk in breastfeeding - how significant is impact on growth, how soon after a feed do the breasts "reset", how many mL on average is foremilk vs hindmilk, etc?
I'm not sure if I'm asking the right questions exactly but here's the story -
My baby is now 10 days old and we have been exclusively breastfeeding. I collect small amounts from opposite breastfeeding in a haaka to build a small freezer supply, but would rather not have to do a lot of pumping. He seems to latch like a champ and has a strong suck (confirmed by LC in hospital and maternity home visit nurse). However he does fall asleep quickly - I have to poke and prod him to get him to feed for longer than 5-10 min - and he still cluster feeds a ton (we get a couple 2-3 hour stretches each day but often we will finish a feed and he will be rooting again 20-45 min later, and do this multiple times over the course of several hours). Lots of poops (yellowish brown) & pees, although quite gassy and fussy.
At the hospital we were told to offer both breasts with each feed, although at our follow up yesterday he had not gained much weight since discharge and the nurse figures he is not getting enough hindmilk due to his snacky feeding pattern and switching breasts frequently. We were advised to encourage longer feeds just from one side at a time and even to offer the same side throughout a cluster feed window. I have no problem doing this, it's just so hard not knowing what he's actually getting or whether offering an "emptier" breast 45 minutes after already feeding from that side will be sufficient...
A lot of articles online about foremilk/hindmilk imbalance are basically just opinion pieces from various breastfeeding organizations, lots of disagreement about whether it's a "thing" but not a lot in the way of actual research. There might not be, so any anecdotes from people with similar experiences are welcome as well. TIA!
submitted by danksnugglepuss to ScienceBasedParenting [link] [comments]
Seeking literature/experiences on foremilk & hindmilk in breastfeeding - how significant is impact on growth, how soon after a feed do the breasts "reset", how many mL on average is foremilk vs hindmilk, etc?
I'm not sure if I'm asking the right questions exactly but here's the story -
My baby is now 10 days old and we have been exclusively breastfeeding. I collect small amounts from opposite breastfeeding in a haaka to build a small freezer supply, but would rather not have to do a lot of pumping. He seems to latch like a champ and has a strong suck (confirmed by LC in hospital and maternity home visit nurse). However he does fall asleep quickly - I have to poke and prod him to get him to feed for longer than 5-10 min - and he still cluster feeds a ton (we get a couple 2-3 hour stretches each day but often we will finish a feed and he will be rooting again 20-45 min later, and do this multiple times over the course of several hours). Lots of poops (yellowish brown) & pees, although quite gassy and fussy.
At the hospital we were told to offer both breasts with each feed, although at our follow up yesterday he had not gained much weight since discharge and the nurse figures he is not getting enough hindmilk due to his snacky feeding pattern and switching breasts frequently. We were advised to encourage longer feeds just from one side at a time and even to offer the same side throughout a cluster feed window. I have no problem doing this, it's just so hard not knowing what he's actually getting or whether offering an "emptier" breast 45 minutes after already feeding from that side will be sufficient...
A lot of articles online about foremilk/hindmilk imbalance are basically just opinion pieces from various breastfeeding organizations, lots of disagreement about whether it's a "thing" but not a lot in the way of actual research. There might not be, so any anecdotes from people with similar experiences are welcome as well. TIA!
2023.06.10 18:58 Aryvista Launched My First Episode on Kindle Vella, and I Have a Lot of Questions About How This Works
Feedback appreciated. I'm still learning about Kindle Vella. Promoting Kindle Vella stories seems to fall into all the same rules as general promotion advice. I'm not sure how people reach crown status in Kindle Vella. Once some momentum is picked up, does then the platform itself start recommending it? If so, how many views does it take for Kindle Vella to start promoting the episode itself?
https://www.amazon.com/kindle-vella/story/B0C7M8WNFH
submitted by Aryvista to Kindle_Vella_Stories [link] [comments]
https://www.amazon.com/kindle-vella/story/B0C7M8WNFH
2023.06.10 18:58 Aryvista Launched My First Episode on Kindle Vella, and I Have a Lot of Questions About How This Works
Feedback appreciated. I'm still learning about Kindle Vella. Promoting Kindle Vella stories seems to fall into all the same rules as general promotion advice. I'm not sure how people reach crown status in Kindle Vella. Once some momentum is picked up, does then the platform itself start recommending it? If so, how many views does it take for Kindle Vella to start promoting the episode itself?
https://www.amazon.com/kindle-vella/story/B0C7M8WNFH
submitted by Aryvista to KindleVella [link] [comments]
https://www.amazon.com/kindle-vella/story/B0C7M8WNFH
2023.06.10 18:56 electraaacherry AITA for closing a joint bank account my uncle made for me as a minor that I've never even used after discovering weird transactions on it?
I (22F) am a college jr who doesn't have experience w/ credit cards, but I applied for some in May to temporarily aid in making 2 payments I have in my student acct. I got approved for one from Discover & the other from BoA, which I don't bank w/. Bc of the disorganization in my dorm's mailroom, I so far only received my BoA cc just Thursday.
I attempted to activate it through the BoA app & register for an acct, but it notified me my SSN was already connected to an acct which then reminded me of the ones my uncle (50s) created for me & my sister in 2018, I was 17, & she was 15 then. My sister & I both had our own joint bank accts w/ him so he could give us "allowances" which never happened & he then asked for the debit cards back after he & our mom fell out, claiming he was "closing the accts". So, from 2018 to now, I've never used or even been inside my BoA joint acct.
I got in after accessing my old email & resetting the BoA pw, & saw $0.35 in the checking acct. It was odd to me since I've never used it & figured he had long closed it. Going through the transaction history & saw that he was transferring considerable amounts of money in & out of the acct to (an)other acct(s), & various ATM transactions, w/ his last transaction being this April.
When bringing up it & my financial issues otp, asking him if me activating my cc would affect whatever he's doing in the checking acct (since I don't bank w/ BoA or know anything about ccs), he acted clueless about the transactions, before talking about going to the bank the next day & telling me to ask my sister if she was available, & then got upset w/ me & asked how long I had "known about this," (whatever "this" even is) & how did I gain access to the acct. I explained I just found out about it that day, & that bc my cc & the joint acct are linked to my SSN, that's how I gained access to it after logging in. He then circled back, asking me if my sister could come to the bank w/ us the next day & got off the phone.
That night, I spoke to my sister about it, she was upset, & said she didn't want to go to the bank w/ him & was busy anyway. After our call, I texted him that she would be busy the next day to which he didn't respond.
Yesterday, aka the next day, I went to BoA, spoke to a banker & explained the ordeal to her. She asked if I wanted to close the acct since I can't remove myself bc both parties weren't present. I was honestly hesitant to do so bc I don't want to be on the receiving end of my uncle's rage since he does have anger problems & has physically abused women in the past, but despite my fears, I chose to close the acct anyway bc I have no idea what he's even doing w/ it, especially w/ it attached to my SSN.
Last night, I received a call from him & didn't answer, & then received a text immediately after, telling me to call him back & asking me if I closed the acct -- he keeps calling & I still haven't responded bc I am afraid of him tbh.
AITA for closing the w/o even consulting him first?
submitted by electraaacherry to AmItheAsshole [link] [comments]
I attempted to activate it through the BoA app & register for an acct, but it notified me my SSN was already connected to an acct which then reminded me of the ones my uncle (50s) created for me & my sister in 2018, I was 17, & she was 15 then. My sister & I both had our own joint bank accts w/ him so he could give us "allowances" which never happened & he then asked for the debit cards back after he & our mom fell out, claiming he was "closing the accts". So, from 2018 to now, I've never used or even been inside my BoA joint acct.
I got in after accessing my old email & resetting the BoA pw, & saw $0.35 in the checking acct. It was odd to me since I've never used it & figured he had long closed it. Going through the transaction history & saw that he was transferring considerable amounts of money in & out of the acct to (an)other acct(s), & various ATM transactions, w/ his last transaction being this April.
When bringing up it & my financial issues otp, asking him if me activating my cc would affect whatever he's doing in the checking acct (since I don't bank w/ BoA or know anything about ccs), he acted clueless about the transactions, before talking about going to the bank the next day & telling me to ask my sister if she was available, & then got upset w/ me & asked how long I had "known about this," (whatever "this" even is) & how did I gain access to the acct. I explained I just found out about it that day, & that bc my cc & the joint acct are linked to my SSN, that's how I gained access to it after logging in. He then circled back, asking me if my sister could come to the bank w/ us the next day & got off the phone.
That night, I spoke to my sister about it, she was upset, & said she didn't want to go to the bank w/ him & was busy anyway. After our call, I texted him that she would be busy the next day to which he didn't respond.
Yesterday, aka the next day, I went to BoA, spoke to a banker & explained the ordeal to her. She asked if I wanted to close the acct since I can't remove myself bc both parties weren't present. I was honestly hesitant to do so bc I don't want to be on the receiving end of my uncle's rage since he does have anger problems & has physically abused women in the past, but despite my fears, I chose to close the acct anyway bc I have no idea what he's even doing w/ it, especially w/ it attached to my SSN.
Last night, I received a call from him & didn't answer, & then received a text immediately after, telling me to call him back & asking me if I closed the acct -- he keeps calling & I still haven't responded bc I am afraid of him tbh.
AITA for closing the w/o even consulting him first?
2023.06.10 18:52 AutoModerator [Genkicourses.site] ✔️Karla Marie – Fiction Profits Academy 3.0 ✔️ Full Course Download
![[Genkicourses.site] ✔️Karla Marie – Fiction Profits Academy 3.0 ✔️ Full Course Download](https://external-preview.redd.it/yCKfnYu1S74CgAV69SHA6vDCSzZstZ1JsE7KgsfHoHU.jpg?width=320&crop=smart&auto=webp&s=636d9aadbc66b233217c76ecedc397fcd662e0d9 "[Genkicourses.site] ✔️Karla Marie – Fiction Profits Academy 3.0 ✔️ Full Course Download") | ➡️⬅️ https://www.genkicourses.site/product/karla-marie-fiction-profits-academy-3-0/ submitted by AutoModerator to Genkicourses_Com [link] [comments] Get the course here: [Genkicourses.site] ✔️Karla Marie – Fiction Profits Academy 3.0 ✔️ Full Course Download https://preview.redd.it/c7i3l6pvzw4b1.jpg?width=510&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=fc49613b3e5d3a70bc744f1057f31daad236de95 Courses proof (screenshots for example, or 1 free sample video from the course) are available upon demand, simply Contact us here Fiction Profits Academy 3.0 is an online course that teaches aspiring writers how to write, publish, and market their own fiction books. The course is designed to help writers turn their passion for writing into a profitable career. The Fiction Profits Academy 3.0 course covers a wide range of topics, including: Writing techniques: The course teaches writers how to develop their writing skills and create compelling stories that will resonate with readers. Publishing: The course covers the ins and outs of self-publishing, including how to format and upload a book to Amazon and other platforms. Marketing: The course teaches writers how to promote their books and build an audience of loyal readers, including strategies for book launches, social media marketing, and email marketing. Monetization: The course provides strategies for monetizing a writing career, including ways to generate income from book sales, courses, coaching, and other products and services. The Fiction Profits Academy 3.0 course includes video lessons, workbooks, and live coaching sessions with Karla Marie and other successful authors. The course is designed to be self-paced, so students can work through the material at their own speed. Overall, the Fiction Profits Academy 3.0 is a comprehensive and practical guide to building a successful writing career. It is suitable for both beginner and experienced writers who want to turn their passion for writing into a profitable business. |
2023.06.10 18:52 Delvinx Advice on emudeck and cloud saves?
Hello all, have emu deck installed on Steam Deck and want to set it up for cloud saves. See that it supports some level of integration with Google Drive. Wanted some clarification how that works and how to setup windows to work with that Emudeck cloud save integration.
submitted by Delvinx to SteamDeck [link] [comments]
2023.06.10 18:51 EconBrony Infitech 2u: Fear the Night Gregtech Server [SMP] [PVE] {Gregtech} {Java} {Whitelist} {Discord} {Voice}
New Infitech 2u: Fear the Night Fossil Edition server. Server is whitelisted so join our discord to get whitelisted. 50+ players have joined so far making it the largest gregtech server in existence! Server is run by the Aura Fury non-profit and a dedicated box, experience the difference
Join our discord here to join the server and say you are here for Fear the Night: discord.gg/aurafury
Pack can be downloaded here: https://www.technicpack.net/modpack/ftn-fossil-edition.1932889 Pack Update is out now!
Aura Fury is a 501c3 non-profit dedicated to bring you a relaxing community you can call home on the internet
-We run with the Aura Fury promise so no worries about world resets or wipes, single worlds run for years
-Level 3 Boosted Discord for high quality audio/video and direct chat with VS server through discord
-Content creator friendly servers and discord (many youtubers/streamers in the group)
-Worlds completely built in survival and by the players, the players decide how the world looks and run our events
-Dedicated bare metal servers with dedicated internet lines for little lag for everyone around the world even with 30+ players on
-Not a pay to win community, donating to help the community gets you nothing but a thank you
-Community has been around more than 10 years and has grown to 1000+ members
-Main spoken languages are English, French, Russian and German but all languages are allowed
-Players on around the clock
We play multiple games including: Minecraft, Vintage Story, Starbound, Eco, Ark, Among Us, Overwatch, Squad, Medal of Honor Allied Assault, Phasmophobia, Factorio, Cryofall, Rise of Nations, Command and Conquer, Diablo, and Valheim. We add games as the community is interested
submitted by EconBrony to mcservers [link] [comments]
Join our discord here to join the server and say you are here for Fear the Night: discord.gg/aurafury
Pack can be downloaded here: https://www.technicpack.net/modpack/ftn-fossil-edition.1932889 Pack Update is out now!
Aura Fury is a 501c3 non-profit dedicated to bring you a relaxing community you can call home on the internet
-We run with the Aura Fury promise so no worries about world resets or wipes, single worlds run for years
-Level 3 Boosted Discord for high quality audio/video and direct chat with VS server through discord
-Content creator friendly servers and discord (many youtubers/streamers in the group)
-Worlds completely built in survival and by the players, the players decide how the world looks and run our events
-Dedicated bare metal servers with dedicated internet lines for little lag for everyone around the world even with 30+ players on
-Not a pay to win community, donating to help the community gets you nothing but a thank you
-Community has been around more than 10 years and has grown to 1000+ members
-Main spoken languages are English, French, Russian and German but all languages are allowed
-Players on around the clock
We play multiple games including: Minecraft, Vintage Story, Starbound, Eco, Ark, Among Us, Overwatch, Squad, Medal of Honor Allied Assault, Phasmophobia, Factorio, Cryofall, Rise of Nations, Command and Conquer, Diablo, and Valheim. We add games as the community is interested
2023.06.10 18:51 DampandColdx I am not sure what to say in therapy? Awkward silence
Basically the title. I've only been to one session but I don't really know what to talk about. I have a hard time being open and it's really difficult for me. I am wanting to make a change in my life because anxiety and depression is like a grey cloud over my head. Specific goals tho I'm not sure how to even come up with them? Last week the therapist dove into my past a little but didn't want to over step. I think she was wanting to know more about my family situation.
submitted by DampandColdx to TalkTherapy [link] [comments]
2023.06.10 18:50 orangeg8 How much trouble would I get?
If I made a line for "special customers". If you don't know how to do amazon return, or need help with your drop off / shipping, you go to this one special line. I think it would get push back on the idiot customers who would still go to the other 2 lines, and not have their stuff ready, but I think after 2-5 weeks of having it, most of the people who need help would figure it out if they had to wait 2-5 minutes longer cause now they are holding only themselves up, and not others. And for help I literally mean, you didn't print a label, that computer can only do it, You didn't do your return, move to that one.
I do have a feeling corporate would shit themselves for me doing that, but I think hiring someone to do just that, with good customer service (or 2) would be more helpful than hiring 10 people who get tired of the idiots shit, cause they will know they are dealing with idiots, all day, and can take their time.
submitted by orangeg8 to upsstore [link] [comments]
I do have a feeling corporate would shit themselves for me doing that, but I think hiring someone to do just that, with good customer service (or 2) would be more helpful than hiring 10 people who get tired of the idiots shit, cause they will know they are dealing with idiots, all day, and can take their time.
2023.06.10 18:50 AutoModerator [Genkicourses.site] ✔️Dan Pye – The Period Time Publishing Program ✔️ Full Course Download
![[Genkicourses.site] ✔️Dan Pye – The Period Time Publishing Program ✔️ Full Course Download](https://external-preview.redd.it/XvZVK2HDLVENheE6NEzGCaoZWAy9pxW3PHzYJGDXNmg.jpg?width=320&crop=smart&auto=webp&s=40dfc0c06169cd9d2f30615a1fcd07ad72801f92 "[Genkicourses.site] ✔️Dan Pye – The Period Time Publishing Program ✔️ Full Course Download") | ➡️https://www.genkicourses.site/product/dan-pye-the-period-time-publishing-program/⬅️ submitted by AutoModerator to Genkicourses_Com [link] [comments] Get the course here: [Genkicourses.site] ✔️Dan Pye – The Period Time Publishing Program ✔️ Full Course Download https://preview.redd.it/dkkau6unzw4b1.jpg?width=510&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=6a37575283185170e202674373a58868b1740b11 Courses proof (screenshots for example, or 1 free sample video from the course) are available upon demand, simply Contact us here The Period Time Publishing Program – Claim Your Seat in the #1 Daily Coaching Program for Publishing Successful Public Domain Books Online This is what you will get inside The Period Time Publishing Program? When you join Period Time Publishing, you will get complete immediate access to all modules: Module 1: Hacks to stay productive under stress Module Overview Lesson 1: Understanding and mastering your brain Lesson 2: Building a Strong Mindset to Play the Long Game Lesson 3: Operating on an Effectiveness Scale Lesson 4: Social Media is Your Enemy Lesson 5: Using the Pomodoro Technique to Get it Done Lesson 6: The Power of a Good Night’s Sleep Lesson 7: Understanding Business Specifics and Why KDP Lesson 8: Setting Expectations for Prolonged Success Let’s Go Full Course Overview Module 2: KDP Account Set Up and Success Optimisation Module Overview Lesson 1: Creating a KDP Account Fast Lesson 2: Setting up Your Tax the Right Way. Lesson 3: Linking Your Bank Account So You Get Paid Lesson 4: KDP Dashboard Overview & Support Module 3: Internal Content Production Secrets Module Overview Lesson 1: Laying the foundation for your business Lesson 2: Downloading & editing Your Book Fast Like A Pro Lesson 3: Optimizing your browser for publishing, tools, and data analysis Lesson 4: Quality vs Quantity the Importance Module 4: Uploading & Proofing to KDP Like a Pro Lesson 1: Meta Data research and KDP rules Lesson 2: Publishing, backend settings, covers & pricing Lesson 3: Getting your books into the right categories Lesson 4: Setting Progress Expectations BONUS Lesson 5: The 13 Amazon Markets Plus targeting specific marketplaces BONUS Lesson 6: Tackling the Kindle Market BONUS Lesson 7: Metadata with Publisher Rocket Support and Updates IMPORTANT: KDP Permanent Cashflow Program Support Not Logged In Issue – Resolved Partnership Referral Program Amazon Licensing Requests Fixed – [376] [iv] Manuscript Formatting Issue How to remove all images fast How to place all chapter headings on a new page Dealing with multi lined headings Formatting Headings in your Manuscript Fix manuscript text displaying vertical down the page What to do after the top 100 books are published |
2023.06.10 18:48 EconBrony New Infitech 2u: Fear the Night Fossil Edition server Server is whitelisted so join our discord! 50+ Players
Brand New Infitech 2u: Fear the Night Fossil Edition server. Server is whitelisted so join our discord to get whitelisted. 50+ players have joined so far! Server is run by the Aura Fury non-profit and a dedicated box, experience the difference
Join our discord here to join the server and say you are here for Fear the Night: discord.gg/aurafury
Pack can be downloaded here: https://www.technicpack.net/modpack/ftn-fossil-edition.1932889 Pack Update is out now!
Aura Fury is a 501c3 non-profit dedicated to bring you a relaxing community you can call home on the internet
-We run with the Aura Fury promise so no worries about world resets or wipes, single worlds run for years
-Level 3 Boosted Discord for high quality audio/video and direct chat with VS server through discord
-Content creator friendly servers and discord (many youtubers/streamers in the group)
-Worlds completely built in survival and by the players, the players decide how the world looks and run our events
-Dedicated bare metal servers with dedicated internet lines for little lag for everyone around the world even with 30+ players on
-Not a pay to win community, donating to help the community gets you nothing but a thank you
-Community has been around more than 10 years and has grown to 1000+ members
-Main spoken languages are English, French, Russian and German but all languages are allowed
-Players on around the clock
We play multiple games including: Minecraft, Vintage Story, Starbound, Eco, Ark, Among Us, Overwatch, Squad, Medal of Honor Allied Assault, Phasmophobia, Factorio, Cryofall, Rise of Nations, Command and Conquer, Diablo, and Valheim. We add games as the community is interested
submitted by EconBrony to feedthebeastservers [link] [comments]
Join our discord here to join the server and say you are here for Fear the Night: discord.gg/aurafury
Pack can be downloaded here: https://www.technicpack.net/modpack/ftn-fossil-edition.1932889 Pack Update is out now!
Aura Fury is a 501c3 non-profit dedicated to bring you a relaxing community you can call home on the internet
-We run with the Aura Fury promise so no worries about world resets or wipes, single worlds run for years
-Level 3 Boosted Discord for high quality audio/video and direct chat with VS server through discord
-Content creator friendly servers and discord (many youtubers/streamers in the group)
-Worlds completely built in survival and by the players, the players decide how the world looks and run our events
-Dedicated bare metal servers with dedicated internet lines for little lag for everyone around the world even with 30+ players on
-Not a pay to win community, donating to help the community gets you nothing but a thank you
-Community has been around more than 10 years and has grown to 1000+ members
-Main spoken languages are English, French, Russian and German but all languages are allowed
-Players on around the clock
We play multiple games including: Minecraft, Vintage Story, Starbound, Eco, Ark, Among Us, Overwatch, Squad, Medal of Honor Allied Assault, Phasmophobia, Factorio, Cryofall, Rise of Nations, Command and Conquer, Diablo, and Valheim. We add games as the community is interested
2023.06.10 18:47 Sad_Zookeepergame_58 Could
Is it harder to get cloud into elite smash than other characters ? I’ve been playing for around two years now and I feel like I should be able to make it in, also what are some good tips to kill as cloud because a lot of the time I’m just unable to take a stock bc I’ll deal good damage but can’t get a confirm in.
Oh and how common do you see cloud online I feel like everyone knows exactly how to fight me so that Also makes it harder.
submitted by Sad_Zookeepergame_58 to CrazyHand [link] [comments]
Oh and how common do you see cloud online I feel like everyone knows exactly how to fight me so that Also makes it harder.
2023.06.10 18:44 cheshirekim0626 Can I publish my book under a pen name through KDP?
I’m not sure how this would work. I want to publish under a pen name because I don’t want the book to be connected to my personal life (mostly family reasons, don’t want to be called a whore for writing smut). Anyway how does that work? I know Amazon needs your legal name and other information but I wasn’t sure if I can publish under a pen name. Will Amazon keep my legal name to themselves? Thank you
submitted by cheshirekim0626 to KDP [link] [comments]
2023.06.10 18:39 AvailableLychee4203 OA Part 3: My translation & thoughts on Zal’s French interview
There have been previous posts on this sub about this French interview with Zal from several years ago (https://youtu.be/xAmSYorCClk). I finally watched the part of the interview that discusses the cancellation and what Part 3 would have been. Here’s my summary, my translation of that part of the interview, and thoughts:
They are talking about superheroes and the interviewer asks Zal, if for him, The OA is a superhero story. Zal says, “no,” and shares that it was “truly a fever dream.”
The interviewer asks, “How could you create a mystery like this… a series that opens so many doors, that poses so many questions, and then say to the viewers, ‘maybe you’ll never get the answers?’” ((A damn good question IMO 😂))
Zal’s response is that he NEVER thought Netflix would “pull the plug” without fair warning. He continues, “For me, the 3rd part, was truly the point to get to the story within a story within a story within a story.” ((My thoughts: whew, that’s a lotta stories! It’s giving trippy Inception vibes.))
Zal explains that the OA part 3 was influenced heavily by the film The Clouds of Sils Maria, that: “[The Clouds of Sils Maria] is truly the third part… there’s a lot of energy/influence for the third part of The OA.” ((I haven’t seen this movie but will be watching it because now I’m curious))
The interviewer asks, “So then part 3 was a meta-film?… on the shooting of The OA?”
Zal: “It [part 3] was more about, what is the process of an actor? What’s a character? Where does it come from?”
Interviewer: “so that means, if you follow that logic, you’d be on screen too [in Part 3].”
Zal: “No, because you’re assuming that The OA in that world is the same OA. It’s another version of the story I might not have created.” [The interpreter clarifies that The OA part 3 is NOT our exact dimension. Zal does not correct her, implying that D3 OA is really not our dimension, but rather a dimension similar to ours].
The interviewer goes in to clarify that at the end of season 2, we arrive in the show “The OA” where “Brit Marling is Brit Marling.” Zal clarifies, “yes, this is true.” The interviewer goes on to say, “Therefore, there exists a universe/dimension where Brit NEVER met Zal” and Zal responds with an emphatic “YES!!!” (The interpreter interjects here, “and she’s married to Jason Isaacs.”)
So the interviewer asks, “What does she [The OA] become in that universe?… without you [Zal]?” Zal’s answer to this is, “have you seen Alfred Hitchcock’s film Dial M for Murder?”… then, when the interviewer has this realization and says “It would be… Ohhh!!” Zal smiles a cheeky grin and walks it back a bit, saying “I’m giving you guys more than I would ever give. Don’t put it on the internet!”
My thoughts: I guess we won’t know for sure how Part 3 would have played out (until they finish the story somehow as Brit promised), but it seems clear it was moving in the direction of a murder mystery for part 3, potentially with HAP/Isaacs plotting/attempting to murder Brit/OA.
I do find it interesting that we’ll get to see Brit and Zal’s take on the classic “whodunit” murder mystery in Retreat. Either way, it looks like they’ve wanted to do a murder mystery for a long time and have found a way to do so!
submitted by AvailableLychee4203 to TheOA [link] [comments]
They are talking about superheroes and the interviewer asks Zal, if for him, The OA is a superhero story. Zal says, “no,” and shares that it was “truly a fever dream.”
The interviewer asks, “How could you create a mystery like this… a series that opens so many doors, that poses so many questions, and then say to the viewers, ‘maybe you’ll never get the answers?’” ((A damn good question IMO 😂))
Zal’s response is that he NEVER thought Netflix would “pull the plug” without fair warning. He continues, “For me, the 3rd part, was truly the point to get to the story within a story within a story within a story.” ((My thoughts: whew, that’s a lotta stories! It’s giving trippy Inception vibes.))
Zal explains that the OA part 3 was influenced heavily by the film The Clouds of Sils Maria, that: “[The Clouds of Sils Maria] is truly the third part… there’s a lot of energy/influence for the third part of The OA.” ((I haven’t seen this movie but will be watching it because now I’m curious))
The interviewer asks, “So then part 3 was a meta-film?… on the shooting of The OA?”
Zal: “It [part 3] was more about, what is the process of an actor? What’s a character? Where does it come from?”
Interviewer: “so that means, if you follow that logic, you’d be on screen too [in Part 3].”
Zal: “No, because you’re assuming that The OA in that world is the same OA. It’s another version of the story I might not have created.” [The interpreter clarifies that The OA part 3 is NOT our exact dimension. Zal does not correct her, implying that D3 OA is really not our dimension, but rather a dimension similar to ours].
The interviewer goes in to clarify that at the end of season 2, we arrive in the show “The OA” where “Brit Marling is Brit Marling.” Zal clarifies, “yes, this is true.” The interviewer goes on to say, “Therefore, there exists a universe/dimension where Brit NEVER met Zal” and Zal responds with an emphatic “YES!!!” (The interpreter interjects here, “and she’s married to Jason Isaacs.”)
So the interviewer asks, “What does she [The OA] become in that universe?… without you [Zal]?” Zal’s answer to this is, “have you seen Alfred Hitchcock’s film Dial M for Murder?”… then, when the interviewer has this realization and says “It would be… Ohhh!!” Zal smiles a cheeky grin and walks it back a bit, saying “I’m giving you guys more than I would ever give. Don’t put it on the internet!”
My thoughts: I guess we won’t know for sure how Part 3 would have played out (until they finish the story somehow as Brit promised), but it seems clear it was moving in the direction of a murder mystery for part 3, potentially with HAP/Isaacs plotting/attempting to murder Brit/OA.
I do find it interesting that we’ll get to see Brit and Zal’s take on the classic “whodunit” murder mystery in Retreat. Either way, it looks like they’ve wanted to do a murder mystery for a long time and have found a way to do so!
2023.06.10 18:37 Due_Refrigerator9488 New to flipping vinyl, any advice on best platform?
I mainly sell used books on Ebay and Amazon, but have inherited a vinyl collection. In your experience would it be better to be on another platform like Discogs, or will Ebay and Amazon be just as effective?
Have been surprised how much higher Amazon prices are than Ebay, even factoring in shipping and higher selling fees.
submitted by Due_Refrigerator9488 to Flipping [link] [comments]
Have been surprised how much higher Amazon prices are than Ebay, even factoring in shipping and higher selling fees.