I laid out a couple of hits And closed the container and set it off to the side. Took About a medium sized hit and went to set my torch down And somehow it slipped or fell and knocked my whole jar of spice off my table shattering it on the ground. Happened so fast I hadn't even let my hit out yet. I'm wondering if this is the spice trying to tell me something. At 1st I thought It was telling me to stop. But when I went to go pick up what remained it was in a perfect pile on the ground. I'm curious to hear anyone's thoughts or opinions on this

1. If a girl admits that she is self centered or considers herself a selfish human being, then she is a walking red flag. Believe her and run
   
2. If a girl says she is “expensive” and that you pretty much have to buy her respect, then she is a walking red flag. believe her and run.
   
3. If she has a repeated history of cheating then she will most likely not think again when the opportunity arises again. Read #1 again and if it is still true, believe her and run.
   
4. If she compares you to her exes on a weekly or even a daily basis, she probably would throw you to the side like she did her exes who she claimed couldn’t “handle her” #1, #2, and possibly #3 is prevalent in this situation. Run for your life
   
5. If all these previous rules seem like they are not relevant in your relationship but she has been caught lying at least 4 times by you or a friend, then read these questions again because for each of these questions you think you know the answer to, there is a lie that kept you wondering more and more if the answer you thought you were confident in was just the 5th lie. Believe her and lie to yourself.
   

For a while I played only with standard 24x4 rooms, occasionally cutting an annex when I needed 16x4. This has the benefit of letting you repurpose any room at any time, and letting you dig your rooms ahead of time.
Recently I've opened up to different approaches. Keeping to a stacks-of-rooms-with-ladder-shafts format, there's a lot more fun stuff you can do.

Variable-width columns

Some rooms occupy at most 64 tiles, which is conveniently factored as 16x4. Most of these rooms have to do with duplicant daily life, and should be stacked close together. So even if you decide to have 24-width industrial rooms, there's no reason you can't make your central column 16-width.
Also, you might decide to make one of your columns 8-10 tiles wider in order to leave room for atmo suit checkpoints and liquid locks.

16x6 rooms

16x6 rooms allow you to make more vertically complex designs. They're helpful when designing mixed-gas drecko ranches, for example.
16x6 rooms factor into 16x2 and 16x3 rooms, allowing you to fit e.g. a bathroom and a barracks into one block.
16x6 rooms are marginally more compact than 24x4 rooms, saving on average 6 tiles per room. Not enough to really make a difference.
One of the downsides of 16x6 rooms is that by building more vertically your dupes end up spending more time on ladders, overall slowing them down.

Putting it all together

My last run, I had two 16-wide columns and one 24-wide. This made good use of the cramped Spaced Out! asteroid, but it did feel like my duplicants were spending a lot of time on ladders.
For my next run I'm probably going to keep the middle column 16-wide, with compact facilities for filling duplicants' needs. But I'm thinking I'll make the columns on either side 24-wide. I'll use 16x6 rooms whenever access to the room needs to be gated behind an atmo suit checkpoint, and 24x4 otherwise.

Just the title. It’s happened a few times now where I hit and invisible wall and my character just runs in place. I can’t go around it or I just hit another wall.

Hello all, I'm a Hunter main who's very big on Buildcrafting. I'd like to give feedback over every Hunter exotic with a PvE lens, positive and negative.
I will offer no solutions or potential fixes to problems I perceive, as this is not my job and such discussion is useless to Bungie anyway.
I should state my primary goal in buildcrafting is to create a consistent gameplay loop I find enjoyable. I want my builds to work in most pve content casually, with the only exceptions being grandmasters, master dungeons and master raids, and legendary / master lost sectors. I still make builds for this pinnacle content, but they have entirely different goals.
Note that I will inevitably say something any given reader will heavily disagree with. Please refrain from negative comments insulting my taste, I would like this to be a positive discussion with valid feedback, feedback viable enough for bungie to contemplate if they so choose to do so.
I will not discuss the following exotics as they have offer absolutely zero applications in PvE: - Knucklehead Radar - Stompees
I will also not consider Aeon Swift, as this is not a Hunter exotic.
Alright, let's get started. There will be no order to this.

• Mask of Bakris The tele-dodge itself does not seem to amount to anything significant in PVE, so the damage boost is the focus. While the damage boost is nice, I find that buff disabling dodge ability generation restricts building around the exotic heavily - significantly reduced effectiveness of means of rapidly recharging dodge, and decreased effectiveness of other parts of the kit, like Shuriken uptime. I do not like using this exotic in PVE because it feels very restrictive if not clunky.
  
• Renewal Grasps I find this exotic's two effects to be at odds with each other. If I want to build into its potent damage resistance and enemy weakening, I find that the Duskfield itself makes such a job almost pointless in most content, as frozen enemies do not attack you. If I want to build into the increased Duskfield and Duskfield crystal radius, I find the exotic's cooldown penalty to be restrictive, I cannot justify using this exotic over none when I simply want to throw duskfields at enemies. I used to love this exotic, but I feel like it has an identity crisis, and I do not like using it as of now.
  
• Foetracer I appreciate this exotic's damage boosting property, it is potent especially in raids and dungeons. However outside of damaging boss combatants, this exotic does nothing in PvE. As non boss-dps is most content, I consider this exotic poor as it lacks oomph or any synergy with anything else I can buildcraft around.
  
• Celestial Nighthawk Good fashion aside, this is a super-only exotic designed to increase damage output against boss combatants. Its secondary partial refund mechanic feels far too insignificant if not unreliable to build around, so this exotic does nothing in most pve content. I find its damage also lacking, I cannot justify using this exotic.
  
• Sixth Coyote I adore this exotic, it is simple yet it enables so many different things. I find even more mileage out of it with the new class item mod allowing my dodge to pick up orbs.
  
• Sealed Ahamkara Grasps Even with its recent buffs, I still heavily dislike this exotic. With a 7 second cooldown, the Melee reload mechanic feels inefficient, as Impetus on Stasis and Ascent on Strand do the same thing but more often. The new increased speed on melee hit mechanic feels extremely clunky, I find constantly weaving in and out of Stompees' tier speed to be extremely disorienting, as the buff only lasts 4 seconds. Because of that aspect, I would never use this exotic, even over nothing.
  
• Speedloader Slacks I appreciate this exotic's monstrous reload speed multiplier, it enables buildcrafting around one-shot reload weapons. I also appreciate its support capabilites, which is something very rare for Hunters. Even with these in mind, I do not like using this exotic as it feels very bland, it does not enable a new gameplay loop - it just makes base gunplay better.
  
• Blight Ranger I cannot offer any new feedback over this item. Countless others have done a better job. This exotic needs serious help.
  
• Raiden Flux While certainly potent and competitive against Star Eater Scales for scaling Arc Staff, I dislike this exotic for several reasons. First being that it keeps you in your super for much longer and you can't really opt out of it, this is a negative to me because I can't utilize buildcrafting aspects while in a roaming super. Second being that it is a super only exotic that offers no way to back into your super faster, leading me to feel that this exotic overall has very little oomph to it.
  
• Gwinsin Vest Despite me having multiple godrolls of this thing stuck in my vault, I almost forgot about putting this here. This Super only Exotic does not offer a Super refund or increased Super damage, it instead increases Spectral Blades' uptime. It is extremely difficult to justify using a Super only exotic in the age of Star Eater Scales, but this takes the cake as the one I am least willing to use any given scenario. Frankly, I don't know how to give feedback for this.
  
• Raiju's Harness Excellent fashion aside, I do not think this exotic's recent buffs did enough to make me consider unironically using this exotic for function. The blind radius feels far too small to actually leverage, and doesn't do damage. The weapon damage buff period feels too short. If the build goal is to use the super to cancel the super to maximize uptime on its Arc damage buff, I think I would rather just use Bakris on stasis, which would have more uptime.
  
• Shinobu's Vow On paper, this exotic appears godlike. A second grenade charge and a potent grenade refund function is very high value. Unfortunately, Skip Grenades feel awful to use. To be more specific, at base they feel like the single least lethal grenade in the game bar a healing nade. Using Arc 3.0's Jolting nades fragment decreases this exotic's performance, as the jolt kills targets before your Skip Grenade seekers can damage them to recharge your grenade. Even with the current seasonal artifact, I cannot justify using this exotic over just picking any other grenade on arc without an exotic.
  
• Lucky Raspberry This exotic is difficult to use in multi-player content, as teammates can and will defeat your targets before your ArcBolt can complete its chain to loop itself. This issue is made worse further when including the Jolting nades fragment, causing Jolt to kill targets before the Arcbolt can connect to them. I also personally just do not like the heavy rng associated with this exotic by design, preferring reliable and consistent gameplay loops over rare moments of extreme power - yet this exotic offers neither.
  
• Liars Handshake A powerful, reliable exotic I used to use all of the time. Its damage buff is potent, and its healing is very nice to have. Though this exotic feels like it has poor synergy with Arc 3.0 aspects, lethal current procs from the first melee hit and often clears everything in front of you, meaning there's nothing to use Cross Counter on. It's been a while since I tried, but I don't believe this Exotic even procs off Tempest Strike hits. These components of anti synergy make the Exotic feel clunky in the modern sandbox, making me not want to use it.
  
• Dragons Shadow Similar to my thoughts on Speedloader Slacks, I appreciate the potent boosts this exotic provides, though I do not believe it offers buildcrafting potential - it just makes base gunplay better.
  
• Facade (I will not dare even attempt to spell the first part) The Anti Flinch component is mostly irrelevant in PvE, so value is instead drawn from the reliable if not indefinite Woven Mail uptime. While it is a potent effect, it feels difficult to justify using my exotic slot over the Woven Mail on Orb pickup fragment, even though this fragment has limited uptime. I believe this Exotic doesn't offer enough oomph in PvE and is difficult to build craft around dedicatedly.
  
• Assassins Cowl I find this exotic very awkward to build craft around, as it demands high uptime on powered melee abilities and yet does nothing to grant melee energy. Bar just using the standard fare Arc Hunter loop to tackle endgame content, I believe that this exotic demands too much buildcrafting investment to justify its purely defensive boosts. I thus do not use this exotic, outside of the Arc Hunter loop.
  
• Kehpris Sting This exotic offers a 50% increased damage for the lowest damage melee ability in the game. This buff amounts to it still doing less damage than just punching enemies normally. The increased melee recharge speed function seems to only have PvP application, and Stylish Executioner offers more than enough wall hacks for any PvE needs. I cannot justify equipping this exotic, neither can I justify building around offensive Smoke Bombs in general.
  
• Graviton Forfeit Oh, do I miss this exotic's prime within the 30th anniversary sandbox. This exotic offers indefinite invisibility, which doesn't feel at all needed in most content, as Void Hunter aspects give plenty of on demand and after-combat invisibility uptime. The reload and recovery boosts offered by this exotic feel difficult to leverage practically. I miss old Bottom Tree Nightstalker's grenade recharge and heart of the pack functions, which complimented this exotic perfectly. Without these things, I cannot justify using this exotic.
  
• Frostees This is Hunter's only neutral game ability recharge based exotic. While its effects are potent, they only activate while sprinting, and you cannot actively damage targets while sprinting. I find that this makes building around this exotic frustrating. While it is always a good idea to wear this exotic, I tend to avoid it because trying to leverage it frustrates me, I really wish we had another neutral game exotic with ability recharge applications.
  
• Shards of Galanor I find this exotic to lack oomph, as it only serves to refund your Blade Barrage, but does not boost its lethality, making buildcrafting around this exotic to not amount to much, though it can be done.
  
• Orphious Rigs This exotic has two distinct effects that do not overlap. With Quiver, this exotic increases your Super's damage output but offers nothing to get your super back faster. With Deadfall(?), this exotic grants the super a potent ability refund and super refund function, but only when using your super against multiple targets at once. This conflicts with how most void Hunters use the super, to debuff singular bosses. I find both functions of this exotic to lack oomph and can't justify using it.
  
• Wormhusk Crown I appreciate this exotic's simplicity, though I wish it had more oomph to it in PvE. This is one of very few sources of Healing available to Hunter, but I don't think it provides enough of it to build craft around.
  
• Lucky Pants I greatly appreciate this exotic single handedly enabling an entire archetype of build, though I find it very clunky. To elaborate, when I use this exotic I find myself worrying over accidentally proccing the lucky pants effect when I am not ready for it, and this heavily restricts my gameplay, not allowing me to use my primary weapon like a primary. This heavily restricts build crafting, blasphemously forcing me to run another primary, or to use a special or heavy capable of running reliable general ad clear. I often find myself wishing I could choose to opt out of proccing the exotic's damage boosting effect in any given moment. This clunkiness fully cancels out the QoL provided by the massively increased Handcannon stats in my eyes. I do not use this exotic often because of these things.
  
• Bombardiers (Bombies) This exotic has 5 different functions based off of subclass. Common to all of them is that I find this exotic clunky to use offensively, as the bomb does not travel horizontally at all, and its radius feels lacking. Void Bombies doesn't count as a real Suppression effect in PvE and I wish they did. Arc Bombies doesn't count as a real Blind effect in PvE and I wish they did. Solar Bombies is nice on paper for scorch stacking ignition based buildcrafting, but this build greatly suffers from my first point. Stasis Bombies... doesn't do anything. I would like it to! Strand Bombies feels redundant, Strand Hunter already has a ton of access to Sever, and I find myself wishing Bombies exploded the hologram from the new aspect, which would allow it to bypass my general use issue with this exotic.
  
• Gemini Jesters While interesting, I find this exotic lacks oomph. The blind has no arc synergy, and I wish it had a longer duration. It also feels bizzarely inconsistent as to what enemies the blind even works on? I do not use this exotic for these reasons.
  
• Oathkeepers. I actually used this in PvE before the recent buffs, valuing the small draw time boost it has. I find its new mechanic frustrating to buildcraft around, as it works with absolutely zero special effects like dragonfly and exotic perks. Much of the community seems to have this sentiment, too. If I use this exotic, it will be for the draw time boost and not the damage boosting function.
  
• Mechaneers Tricksleeves This exotic incentivizes a unique low-life type of build to get the most out of it. Unfortunately this type of thing is very poorly supported, requiring awkward pauses to deal damage to yourself. This type of build also has the fault of not working in most teamplay, as Solar Warlocks will heal you without your consent. I wish its damage buff had a different or alternative condition to activate.
  
• Star Eater Scales. An excellent exotic, offering a unique gameplay loop that yields a satisfying and potent payout. I have no complaints, though I don't use this exotic often because I find it overkill for most content.
  
• Gyrfalcons Hauberk The sole savior of Nightstalker 3.0 in my eyes. This exotic is extremely well rounded, unique, and offers a ton of build crafting options. I don't use it much these days though, as I am trying more ability focused builds of which this exotic does not assist me in.
  
• Triton Vice My feedback mirrors the common community sentiment over this exotic: it's trying to do two conflicting things, and neither job is done well enough to justify using a glaive on Hunter. To add on to that, I find it hard to justify glaives on hunter in general since many of our subclass kits revolve around using thrown melee abilities, and glaives offer no synergy with almost all parts of these kits. I think this is my primary complaint, I wish there were more synergy between glaives and subclasses at base. I do not see myself ever using this exotic without major sandbox changes.
  
• Omnioculus Much like my Graviton Forfiet feedback, this exotic's prime is in the past. Though still useful in difficult endgame multiplayer content, this exotic has lacked oomph in most content ever since Void 3.0
  
• Radiant Dance Machines I adore the recent rework to this exotic, its fantastic in general play. My only direct complaint is that it's kinda hard to tell when the buff is ready to proc, and when gamblers dodge can meet its nearby enemy proc condition. Any other complaints I could come up with are more so directed at weaknesses associated with Hunter Subclasses.
  

General Solar Hunter Grenade and Melee Exotic Feedback: Solar 3.0's Gunslinger revamp has a number of elements I find problems with, and these problems directly affect it's non-super exotics. - Solar Hunter's looping ability is extremely reliant on ability kills. If a thrown melee fails to kill, a dodge is required to retry. If this fails for any reason, the loop is over. This feels sudden halt in momentum feels really bad to me, it makes me generally avoid Solar Hunter. - Explosive Throwing Knives are often shot out of the air by enemies, severely hurting you and turning off your loop. - Weighted Throwing Knife seems to have been bugged for a very long time now, it very often fails to refund itself with the radiant loop when it ignites an enemy, heavily restricting if not making building crafting impossible for it. - The Radiant knife loop will often fail if it procs too quickly. Needing to actively think about pacing myself makes it hard to enjoy the radiant knife loop. - The current Restoration bug makes Solar Hunter survivability far poorer than it would be without, forcing me to play Solar Hunter far more conservative than I'd like, which causes my loops to fail more often, and failed loops to result in my death more often.

• Caliban's Hand Though powerful in general play, this Exotic often feels like its overkill. Ignition explosions will detonate mid-air knives, forcing me to pace my thrown knives further, and causing the loop to fail even more often. This volatility is why I haven't really used the exotic since the tailend of Haunted.
  
• Athry's Embrace This felt balanced in the sandboxes before Solar 3.0, but its damage output feels like its been powercrept since. The Weighted Throwing Knife bug, and the lack of 3.0 synergy makes this exotic tough to justify using. The recent buff for +30 strength while the buff is active seems to be primarily pvp focused change.
  
• Young Ahamkara's Spine (YAS) This exotic enables its own loop, one remarkably similar to the radiant knife loop. While I appreciate that component of it, I have two issues with this exotic. One: The loop is prone to fail, Ignitions and other related Solar Explosions can detonate the Tripmine mid-flight, and actually sticking enemies with Tripmines in pve is surprisingly difficult to do reliably. In either case the loop fails, and when the backup throwing knives fail for whatever reason, the loop ends and the build is disabled for quite a while. Two: I feel like Tripmines don't deal much damage in PvE, most of a YAS build's comes from ignitions. I know many people are avid fans of this exotic, but I am not.
  
• Ophidia Spathe This is my go to Solar Exotic, though I wish its hidden regenerate two knives at once ability were more consistent, in most cases the Radiant Loop only provides one knife charge and no part of this function is explained on the exotic. I enjoy pairing this exotic with the newly buffed Skyburner's oath and fan knives, letting me easily Ignite enemies without suffering from much of the other Gunslinger weaknesses.
  

Hit a big milestone this week! One full year without a smartphone. It's honestly gone really smoothly and I'm so grateful to have had the last year with my silly little flip phone. Ultimately I've made the decision to switch back to a smartphone but I am hoping to carry over some of the wonderful habits I've developed over the last year. If anyone cares to read, here are some of the things I really appreciate about my current lifestyle:
- I never wake up with my phone. The only tech I (sometimes) wake up with is my kindle. If even that.
- I don't always need my phone with me. If someone else in the group has a phone and is accessible, I often choose to leave my phone at home all together.
- Silence. I can sit alone with my own thoughts and feel completely okay with it. Even in public, if I don't have anything to do I am happy to just sit. Nothing else. What a foreign feeling and concept that was at the beginning of this year.
- I can give things my full attention. Books, TV, conversations... My mind can remain in one place for the full duration of the activity being experienced. And, no, I [almost] never ignore my tablemates to check my phone when I sit down to eat with others.
- I don't need to get Pinterest-worthy photos of every single thing that I do. Along with that, I don't feel the need to share every single thing that I do with other people. When I do things, more often than not, I do it for myself and my family rather than to impress other people.
- I can remember things. I'm not sure I'd ever done it before this year. I don't think I've ever had to. I've impressed myself with my own ability to remember the important things that I need to do without a calendar reminder or timed text message telling me to do it. This last year has provided me with a lot of faith in my own capabilities that I never had before.
Things I am excited about switching back to a smartphone for:
- Ease of travel. For the last year I have been very weary and uncomfortable travelling to new places alone without GPS. The times I had to do it I made it work, but it's a lot of added anxiety that maybe isn't exactly necessary.
- PHOTOS. I have virtually no photos or documentation from the last year of my life. While it has been a blessing not to feel the incessant need to document everything, I really wish I had more photos to look back on the last year of my life. (And, to be completely truthful with you, not having any nice photos or selfies of myself has been a little bit of a hit to my self confidence... Love my husband to death but I look like absolute garbage in every picture he takes of me LOL).
- Lastly, in order to log into anything you need to jump through SO MANY LOOPHOLES. I am so excited to have all my 'devices' in one place so I can stop running frantically around the house to get my phone so I can type in the stupid codes they text to me so I can log into my stupid accounts. It's a small inconvenience but I'll be so glad to be done with it.
​
All in all I 100%, 10/10 recommend the experience of going for the flip phone if it's something you're interested in. This experience has taught me so many good healthy tech habits and boundaries that I hope I can continue to carry on through the next part of my digital minimalism journey.

https://imgur.com/a/0BW6WZ2
Arrived to this job today, put up the ladder on the stairs to get to the upper deck and climbed up to the upper deck and walked around.I call it a "dry run". Woman of the house came out on the deck and said "i'm sorry , you can come through the house ". I responded "for liability reasons that would be a bad idea. I've had this happen many times, home owners asking me to run the pressure hose through the house to a deck that has no stairs.In 20 years, I took the home owner up on the offer ( 1 time)because the deck was 30+ feet and I wasn't gonna go rent a 30 foot ladder. It was a very freaky feeling running the hoses through the house.In this scenario it just so happen that there was a joining of 2 hoses in the living room , and it made me so stinkin nervous. I'd never do it again. Chasin that money . Advice to rookies. don't do it. You'd be in a world of hell if the hoses came un-connected for some reason.

I have a Monster Energy Mini Fridge that I've had for at least 7 years running w/o any issues but recently I noticed that even though the fridge is running, it is no longer cooling. All drinks are room temp. The Fridge is manufactured by IDW and it's Model G-5C. I called IDW for help and they said that it was discontinued in 2009 and they no longer have any parts. I did some research and I think it may be the starter relay. When I turn the fridge on, the fan on top moves, but I never hear the compressor starting and stopping... It just runs continuously. So I took off the cover from the fridge and found lots of dust. I looked at the parts list from the IDW website and the condenser fan and condenser had tons of dust (Which I vacuumed up). In addition on the back of the fridge, there were 2 copper tubes that ran down the back and also inside a small metal drip tray and the drip tray was almost half full of rust- colored dust. I vacuumed as much as I could from there as well. If I get the fridge running again I play on taking the tray off and finding some kind of cleaner to clean the rust off and see if I can find a spray to prevent rusting in the future.
So after watching some YouTube videos I disconnected 1 wire from the starter relay on the side of the compressor and pulled out the starter relay. It has the numbers: P6R8MC OR0803 and it only has 1 tab on it (Most fridges have 3). I have looked online everywhere and I see a lot of relays that look similar but have different numbers. I can't find the same number. What do the numbers mean and is there any substitute?
I was watching some videos and they mentioned the fridge making a clicking sound when it runs. My fridge does NOT make any clicking noise. You just hear the fan running and air moving in the fridge, but just not cooling.
So my questions are, based on the above, what are the odds that it's the starter relay that is bad? Any way to test a 1 prong relay? Any suggestions for a suitable replacement since I can't find one with the same part number on it?
Thank you for any help. Sorry if this doesn't look right, I'm still learning how to post on Reddit.
Here are some pictures that I took:
https://i.imgur.com/hLvIPXK.jpg
https://i.imgur.com/czAZM8O.jpg
https://i.imgur.com/yQerKnn.jpg
https://i.imgur.com/TLlq7om.jpg
https://i.imgur.com/DOuxWX6.jpg
https://i.imgur.com/v6MIDwA.jpg
https://i.imgur.com/xEnMrsd.jpg

26F Diagnosed anxiety and depression Taking lexapro 10mg and Sprintec
I was just shaving my legs and saw this odd bruise on the inner part of my thigh. I know you’re thinking of what it could be from but I have been on my cycle until today and haven’t been active like that.
I have a few other bruises on my legs but they’re in areas I can explain like the outter part of my upper thigh where I hit my computer desk or my shin where I hit my coffee table. But I can’t for the life of me think of how I could’ve gotten this bruise and how it’s so big. It’s about the size of a half dollar.
How could someone get a bruise like that in such an odd spot that’s not related to intercourse. Image here: https://imgur.com/a/NSfyqZP

Here to post my recent experiences with my son to maybe offer some encouragement to other parents.
My son is 9 months old, is going to be 10m on June 25th. When he came home, I would swaddle and lay him in his bassinet, but as you all may know, with breastfeeding, cluster feeding, diapies etc. The baby tended to really run me ragged. After ditching the swaddle I eventually turned to cosleeping to be a better parent to my son, get better sleep to br more present during the day, as my ex and I both sleep very light and don't move or roll, I figured it was safe enough with the sleep 7 method. Yes it was a risk but in my circumstances it was necessary.
Time passes, little babe gets bigger, more aware, more mobile. I tried many times to transition him back into his own sleep space- starting with naps etc. Like what everyone tells you to do. Could never get him out of the habit of night sleep in my bed. I was so so tired of not being able to move at night, i wanted to have my own space, and was sick of being touched 25/8.
Well, for the last month or so, I've been holding to feed and swaying him to sleep. We used to use an exercise ball to bounce him to sleep, he had a really strong sleep association with motion and it was absolutely killing my back and joints - I knew something had to give so I reached out to many a mom group and tried many different methods. It seemed like nothing was working and I always thought the "drowsy but awake" thing was a far cry from a potential reality for me.
So I just wanted to share what I did to transition my babe from bedsharing to independent sleep.
Instead of side lying feeding like i did during cosleeping, I started by holding him in my arms to feed at the angle he preferred. After he was done eating, I'd give his pacifier and sway him until he would fall asleep. Here recently, he has hit some major milestones and has been fighting sleep and regressing. Within this past week I came to realize that swaying was no longer working to soothe, but to stimulate him even further. So, ive been waiting until he is pretty damned tired before starting bedtime. Feeding him, and then holding for 2-5 minutes just giving him cuddles. I place him in his pack n play after saying I love you and giving him a kiss, and depending on the night, he's been either going to sleep almost immediately, or "crying" (complaining tbh, no real tears at all) for less than 5 minutes before he gets comfortable and relaxes to the point of falling asleep.
I NEVER thought this was possible and I never wanted to sleep train him. I was so scared of the sleepless nights during sleep training. But somehow, indirectly, it just happened.
I know this isn't going to be what works for everybody, but I suppose I just came here to say that if your infant is young and you see no end in sight, it might be closer than you think. Don't give up and don't beat yourself up for doing what works for yourself and your baby. They won't be little forever and there will come a time where they are old enough and ready to learn to fall asleep independently, and when they show those signs, don't ignore them. It will save you so much of your sleep to give it a shot, even if youre scared like I was.
I did cry a lot the first time he went to sleep on his own tbh. They just grow way too fast.
I hope all of you fresh out the gate parents out here are getting the love, support, and sleep that you need, and are enjoying being a parent as much as I am.
The nights are long, but the years are short. ❤️‍🩹

Hey yall. I've been on the east side for almost 8 years. Most of my friends and family are on the west side. I'm looking to move in September and I'm curious if you have any recommendations or "hard pass" locations.

Is having no filter a thing with this condition ? Cause it just ruined my night . We were eating as a family and one of our friends who has a bad history with men got brought up as well as the fact that 2 of her kids had to be moved because her second husband hit them . My dad chimed in that he doesn’t believe her because she’s slept around and thinks she lied to get him out of the picture . So I responded -“ oh so because you think she’s a slut she must be a liar too? “ . He always does this tho , he sides with the man and blames the woman whenever there’s a split and I’m sick of it .

Where do I even begin honestly? I don't normally go out of my way to be open anymore due to my low grade depression and social anxiety from all the BS I've had to deal with throughout my long term life.
I'm 31 years old, who has been single without any kind of relationship, intimacy, anyone actually showing any sign of interest in me, hitting/complimenting me for seven years soon to be 8.
I've got dozens of "facebook" and social media friends but barely anyone takes the time to send me a message and chat anymore. When they do it's normally because I'm the one who's sending the first message to get a conversation started as well.
I'm a respectful, trustworthy, deeply understanding, easy to talk, honest, sarcastic smartass, polite and well mannered sweetheart, with a bit of a sensitive side and an even bigger heart to match everything.
I'm still living at home because inflation has made everything so expensive. I'm not working at the moment due to being out of one for a few months,
I don't drive, I'm out of shape with a skinny figure and a small belly to match which is embarrassing.
I've got a cellphone but nobody really texts me these days, same goes for snapchat for messages.
I'm into video games, horror movies, nerdcore rap, alternative indie music, graphic novels, watching YouTube, drinking tea, among other varied interests
I've tried using apps like bumble, Facebook dating, tinder, pof to meet women or just people to be friends with and its lead me to no where real fast.
I've met some people off here who say and act one way and then completely aren't that at all in the long run and give up so damn quickly, when times are tough and rough.
It's so frustrating these days.

Hello there, I'd consider myself a noob when it comes to overclocking.
I had a i7 2600k running at 4.5 GHz for the past 12 years. Stable, cool at the time (75c full load). This week I bought myself a new system. Going from the i7 2600k air cooled (hyper 212+ Evo) Gigabyte z68-ud3h-b3 with a R9 390 to the following:
Gigabyte z790 aorus elite ax I5 13600k MSI Rtx 4070ti ventus 3x oc 32 GB Corsair vengeance rgb 6000mhz H150i Elite Capellix xt 360
Huge upgrade from my previous system however I like to push things to the limit.
OC/UC my 4070ti to 2850mhz @ 950mv OC the i5 13600k to 5.5Ghz leaving the e-cores at 3.9. p-cores are running 1.2v with a +0.085 offset. E-cores are running 3.9Ghz defaults. Temps during C23 multicore are maximum of 86c. Again, I'm cooling this with a H150i Elite Capellix xt 360mm rad.
My stocks are: ~32c idle with 1.28vcore Sadly I did not test during max load due to my excitement...
During gaming (While OC'ed) I get an average of 58c but this average might be skewed due to maximum temperature of 64c during boot. While monitoring temps with HWinfo64 it seems the average is around 42-46c with a max of 52c(based on personal calculations and resetting the max/avg/etc in HWinfo64).
My maximum vcore according to HWinfo64 is 1.334v this is during gaming and while running C23 it's a max of 1.344v. I hit a max of 203W during C23.
I'm currently playing on 1080p but next month I'm getting a 1440p monitor with 144hz.
I hope this provides enough information for my following questions:
Is this a good OC with the voltage being used?
Are these temperatures alright for my OC?
Is it worth keeping these settings for gaming solely or should I reduce the clocks and voltages, to reduce temperatures?
Will my current settings provide me a benefit at 1440p or should I stick to stock CPU settings and rather go for a possible undervolt instead?
It seems, of rather feels, like I got unlucky with the silicon lottery. But then again I haven't dabbled with overclocking for over a decade so I have no idea if I should expect the same from this CPU compared to the i7 2600k(which I know was an amazing overclocker).
What should be the max vcore on the i5 13600k?
Any general tips are welcome as well, I'm new to this so any help is appreciated. I haven't dabbled with LLC either and not sure if that could improve my OC. Any tips are welcome. Especially for my motherboard as there doesn't seem to be much information regarding the Gigabyte/Aorus mobo's interface.
I probably have some more questions but let's go with this for now.
I would like to thank you in advance.

I was hunting for the prismatic slime for the first time and every time I looked up tips online, the results were mostly from this sub of people saying "oh its just a normal slime with a lot more health."
Cut to me dying to it because it hit me and I got slimed so I couldnt run and I died in THREE HITS because it dealt FIFTY DAMAGE A HIT.
I cry ;(

Disclaimer: Registered trademarks and copyrights are properties of their rightful owners. As this series jumps realities very often it is hard to track that info.
DM, the Digitalman, the Scion of Variable is a creation of my good friend who does not use Reddit and is used with permission.
The Pokémon Lucario is © The Pokemon Company.
“When you're in your darkest place, you give yourself hope and that's inner strength.”
― Uncle Iroh
The Daughter that Follows
Chapter 27
Reunited
Part 5
“So, are we all ready?” Darius asked as he rolled out a second grill in his backyard. He had decided to host the mini-reunion for Alan and his friend.
“We are so friggin’ ready.” Kenji grinned. “I can almost taste the meat...”
“Why is he acting like he hasn’t had meat in forever?” Alan asked Brooklynn while pointing to her husband.
“I wish I knew, he has his own grill.” Brooklyn shook her head. “Cooks good corn.”
“Speaking of, I got these for you.” Alan held up several cobs. “Won’t be a competition because Vegeta thinks vegetables are a sin.”
Brooklyn rolled her eyes, “I know the type.”
“So...” Sammie pointed into Darius’ house. “Is your other guest okay?”
“He’s fine, he just doesn’t like the sun that much.” Alan grinned.
“He’s a vampire.” Yaz said.
“Don’t say that.” Sammie chided her wife.
“Technically he’s a nosferatu.” Alan wavered his hand. “But also be quiet, I want Anna surprised, and Salem surprised.”
“Why is he getting surprised?” Kenji asked.
Yaz smiled, “You didn’t pay attention to his shirt, did you?”
“I think he might be a fan of Alan’s friend.” Sammie said.
Not a moment after that a hole opened above Darius’ driveway. They heard Ben shout in surprise as he fell out with Anna and Vegeta.
“You know, you’re brave...” Vegeta said, “But you need to have more spatial awareness if you’re not gonna fly.”
“We can’t fly here.” Ben said as he was flown over Darius’ roof and sat down.
“Where’s Anna?” Alan asked.
“She saw someone attacking Spider-Men.” Vegeta shrugged.”Dropped us off and ran off.”
“Oh.” Alan blinked.
“Yeah, it looked like some wasp thingy.” Vegeta flew back and returned with a huge slab of meat. “Wagusaurus.”
Alan stopped to think for a moment before another hole in reality opened and Anna walked through covered in orange and green gunk.
“Hose?” She asked grumpily.
Darius pointed to the side of his house.
“So I take it, it squished good?” Salem snickered from the sliding door.
Anna froze and looked up. Then she looked at her father.
“Surprise.” Alan smirked.
Anna ran up and hugged her father. “That’s for surprising me.”
Alan nodded. “I kinda figured.”
Salem was laughing like mad as Anna went to hose herself off. Then he froze as he saw Vegeta cutting up the meat.
“Surprise.” Alan smiled and tapped Vegeta on the shoulder. “You gotta fan here, man.”
“Huh?” Vegeta turned to see the fanged nosferatu staring and pointing. “Hey, you want to help? This stuff is heavy.”
Salem just nodded and helped the saiyan prince separate out the meat.
Anna came walking back around the corner, she had used her aura to squeeze the water from her clothes and skin, though her hair was still wet. She giggled as her father simply eradicated the gunk that was on his clothes.
“Thank you.” Anna smiled up at Alan.
“Yeah, well he’ll be going with you.” Alan smiled. “Plus this needed to happen outside of a battle zone.”
“Oh yeah.” Anna nodded emphatically. “Completely.”
Alan smiled as he clapped his hands. “All right! Everyone get ready for a taste test sensation! Except Brooklynn, I’ll have your corn done not long after.”
“What is she vegetarian?” Vegeta snapped.
“Vegan.” Brooklyn said as she crossed her arms.
“I make meat.” Vegeta crossed his arms as if to challenge her.
“Good for you, my husband is who you want to impress.” She nodded to Kenji.
“Huh, fair.” Vegeta nodded. “Why is he staring at the grills?”
“He grills too, but for fun.” Brooklynn smiled.
“Hey, amateur!” Vegeta stomped forward.
Kenji flinched. “Yes?”
“You’re my second.” Vegeta grinned.
Kenji smiled and saluted, “Yes sir!”
“Ben, you got my stuff?” Alan asked.
“Stuff?” Vegeta asked as Ben walked out with a wheeled tray filled with cooking paraphernalia.
“Oh, now we’re getting serious!” Vegeta grinned. “Anna, you got my stuff?”
Anna nodded and tossed out a pink and blue capsule that turned into another wheeled tray with similar cooking tools on it.
“Just so we’re clear, I’m recusing myself.” Anna smiled.
“Clever girl.” Vegeta stared at her with a vicious smile..
“Man if you knew the history of that phrase here.” Alan shook his head. “All right folks, quarter of a steak each for the taste testing. Be honest, put your fork on the plate you like most.”
“Do we get ketchup?” Anna asked with a devious grin.
Both men stopped and glared.
“I found the heckler.” Alan said through gritted teeth.
“Considering her parentage, I’m not surprised.” Vegeta nodded.
(T)(D)(T)(F)---(T)(F)(T)(W)
Darkseid paced on Apokalips.
He had been shunted back to his planet and reality with ease by the ghostly reaper. He had been embarrassed for the last time by the Scions. He would not tolerate it anymore.
“Kalibak!” He shouted for his son.
Kalibak came forward and kneeled. “Father.”
“Prepare all to attack Earth. If I cannot go to them I will draw them to me. We will slaughter Superman's adopted homeworld.” Darkseid grinned.
The sound of chains echoed through the halls.
“Alice?” Hare lifted his head.
“She’s coming...” March Hare’s vocalizer on the back of the warbeast he was attached to, sang to life.
Soon a woman in white with red on a half mask walked into view.
“And who are you?” Darkseid asked.
“I am called Kyton. I come from Alan Quain’s home reality.” She said as the chains holding Hare released him. “I am the Revenant of Heroes, element of metal.” March Hare’s brain case released itself and fell to the ground.
“FREEDOM!” The brains’ final thoughts shouted from the vocalizer.
“You will keep them no longer!” Kyton’s chains flew from openings and snagged the ragged body of Hare into a swirling portal.
“So it is war!” Darkseid grinned as lanced out a punch, but a wall of crystal rose up from the ground.
“I’m here to asshole.” Stephen Quain walked in as the air around all of Darkseid’s forces turned to solid crystalline bindings. “And we brought an old friend.”
A scream of rage tore through the air as a clown mask landed at Darkseid’s feet.
Darkseid looked down and was caught by a powerful uppercut, but it was nothing to him. He did recognize his opponent, they had taken him form Quain’s home reality and tormented him. They had tried to shatter the mask he wore only to find it resisted them at all attempts. He wore a new mask now, but Darkseid felt the same hidden power inside it. He grinned and grabbed the human’s fist and tossed him back.
“Dammnit!” SideEffect shouted. “If I could feel those bones I’d be even more pissed!”
“And now I am...” Darkseid looked outside his window to see a series of explosions ripple across Apokalips.
A man flew down to his window, a billowing red cape.
“I’m afraid not, Darkseid, this is the Scion’s war.” Superman smiled. “We’re just helping.” He flew in and slammed the leader of Apokalips through the walls.
Kyton looked at Stephen Quain, “Don’t kill the sapient ones.”
Stephne rolled his eyes. “Just because I have a history with the hairball doesn’t mean I’m trigger happy.”
Kalibak looked around in confusion. The crystal bindings were all too familiar and he looked at the human in fear. “Can you please not turn me into crystal again? It really hurts.”
Stephen rolled his eyes.
(T)(D)(T)(F)---(T)(F)(T)(W)
In the black space above Apokalips, a green form looked down upon the world. A scythe and sword were by his side, as was a young pale skinned woman. She shook her head but did not oppose the Scion.
“You started this early.” Death of the Endless sighed. “Why?”
“Because it’s the one thing no one would expect me to actually do.” Wraith drew his daggers from his side and looked them over. His black blade still had a knick in it from when a piece broke off in Atropos. “So I’ll make sure this entire war is off balance.”
Death of the Endless shook her head. “I think she got under your skin. So to speak.”
“She did.” Wraith acknowledged. “For this I am not Death. For this I am the endless rage of the murdered and unavenged. She wants this fight, I’ll give it to her, but on my terms.”
“What are your friends doing?” Death of the Endless looked down.
One half of Apokolips was now thoroughly exploded with mechanical animals running rampant over it. The other half was now a flower covered paradise that had strange trees restraining the parademons and other forces.
“What they do best.” Wraith smiled. “Chaos and Imbalance.”
“And what can we do?” The voice of Astral, Scion of Order asked as he appeared.
“Cage of this reality, separate it from itself.” Wraith leaned on his scythe.
“Shadow reality?” Astral asked.
Wraith nodded.
“I’m gonna need my buddy down there.” Astral nodded.
“I’m your buddy?!” Perfection cooed as he appeared. “Hiya D.o.E.! How’s Delirium?”
“Delerious.” Death of the Endless smiled with a nod.
“All right!” Perfection cheered. “One shadow realm coming up!” He snapped his fingers and a wig very similar to a popular card game anime character’s hair appeared on his head and his clothes shifted to a similar style.
“Does that mean I have to be Kaiba?” Astral sighed.
“Would you?” Perfection asked with a pleading look.
“Okay, fine. This once.” Astral sighed and his trench coat shifted to that of another coat similar to the other one’s rival.
“I’m not watching this.” Wraith sighed as he vanished.
“Man, what a party pooper.” Perfection sighed. “Well it’s time to get twisted!”
(T)(D)(T)(F)---(T)(F)(T)(W)
Anna sat watching her friends and her father. Everyone was relaxed and the party was winding to a close. Vegeta was busy going over a speech with her dad and Salem was busy trying to understand how Ben survived a Carnotaurus as a teenager with no powers.
“We will go to our final battle soon.” Rio sat beside her enjoying some of the last steak.
“Well not our last.” Anna smiled.
Rio shook her head. “I cannot go with you beyond this.”
Anna looked at Rio. “Did I say something, do something?”
Rio shook her head. “I have a responsibility I too will be stepping into, at Arceus’ last request.”
Anna hugged Rio. “You could have said something.”
“I was conflicted.” Rio admitted, “But it was Arlina that made me realize I had to do it.”
Anna nodded. “You’ll always be my sister.”
“You will always be welcome in my world.” Rio smiled and gave a happy yip.
Anna smiled. “Bonds beyond life and death.”
“Bonds beyond time and space.” Rio said as a compliment to it. “I will cherish the time we have had together.”
Anna smiled and held up the pokeball.
“Oh no,we still need that, I don’t want to travel the multiverse exposed to it!” Rio barked nervously.
Anna laughed. “Okay, One last big adventure.”
“Once more unto the breach, my friends.” Alan said as he sat next to them.
“What?” Anna asked.
“The Bard himself.” Alan smiled. “Henry the Fifth.”
Anna nodded. “I’m scared.”
Alan nodded. “So am I. I could lose the most important people to me. But it has to stop, she has to be stopped, he has to be stopped. No more.”
Anna nodded.
“Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more, Or close the wall up with our English dead.” Yaz said. “Act Three, Scene One.”
“Indeed.” Alan smiled and nodded. “I better pick up Teal’c and the other’s too.”
Anna looked at her father quizzically.
“He sounds a lot like Kratos. But he enjoys breaking False gods, so...” He paused. “Disturbingly coincidental hobbies.”
Anna giggled.
“How many of my friends have that hobby?” Alan pondered aloud.
Vegeta jumped up and waved his hand.
“No, Vegeta. Frieza was not a false god.” Alan sighed.
“Fair.” Vegeta harrumphed.
“Well I have to get this all cleaned up tomorrow.” Darius sighed.
Alan gave a baring laugh.
“What?” Darius asked.
“Darius.” Anna scoffed, “We aren’t trashy guests...” She focused and Hong Long came out from her aura and quickly began to pick up trash.
Alan simply focused on various small bits that flew to the trash cans. Within minutes the backyard and the grills were sparkling.
“Kami, do I miss the easy cleanups...” Vegeta sighed. “You know the stars here are bit different, but I like’em.”
Anna smiled and began to point out the constellations. Soon though Alan, Anna and their guests returned to the Camp for one more night of rest.
When they got back Anna and Alan crashed within minutes, Vegeta and Salem were still up staring out at the stars.
“You feel it?” Vegeta asked.
“Like a cat with its hackles up.” Salem nodded.
“What do you do, to keep her safe?” Vegeta asked.
“Got some magic, but mostly I use big guns.” Salem said. “I can hack, but it’s a tertiary skill nowadays. If I get pissed I can jack my bodies’ power up, but not anywhere near as powerful as you.”
Vegeta nodded. “Willing to die?”
“For them?” Salem just nodded.
“Good.” Vegeta nodded. “He wants me up front with Darkseid. How do you think I’ll fair?”
“Depends.” Salem shrugged, “What’s your newest technique?”
“Well I developed a bit of an Ego, if you will.” Vegeta grinned.
“No, not with Darkseid.” Salem shook his head. “Definitely poor on the aggression, but you do not want to take a hit. Especially the Omega Beams, you can’t dodge them, you can only put others in front of them.”
(T)(D)(T)(F)---(T)(F)(T)(W)
“He wasn’t there.” Consumption hissed. “Not even a trace of him.”
Atropos blinked in shock. She felt for certain Wraith would retreat to the Gates of Hell in their home reality. That he wasn’t there was a shock.
“That’s because he’s off picking a fight with Darkseid.” Odin shook his head. “Your plans aren’t coming together, Norn.”
“Don’t call me that.” Atropos said in an off-sweet tone. “I write fates, they make a show of them.”
Odin grunted. He was starting to regret working with this woman.
“As I said it doesn’t matter.” Atropos shoved her hand into her leg, golden ichor rolled out as she pulled an obsidian black shard from her leg. “A piece of his Sin left to remember him by.”
“I can use that.” Sindri shot up, “That will work” He walked over and held out his hands.
Atropos smiled and dropped it in his open palms. The sharp piece struck into the dwarf’s hand and his grief flashed before his eyes and he clutched his hand around the piece as he roared in pain. He forced himself over to his work table and pried it out of his own hand.
Atropos watched in shock.
“It wants you to suffer under your own guilt.” Sindri winced. “Vicious piece, but it has a piece of him, more than enough.”
“Then let Undeath Echo through the multiverse.” Atropos roared with laughter.
Odin watched the woman and slowly tilted his head towards her, then to Sindri. He nodded slowly as he realized what was happening. He had to get out of this mad house and fast.
(T)(D)(T)(F)---(T)(F)(T)(W)
Anna stretched as Hong Long coiled about in the sky, doing his own version of warming up. Alan yawned as he said his goodbyes to his co-workers and bosses.
Dr. Grant handed him a book, an old one signed by another Paleontologist. Quain grinned as he put the book signed by Tim Murphy into his bag. Dr. Ellie Sattler just gave him a hug. Dr. Wu who had the hardest time saying goodbye, despite the few words the two ever exchanged they had become good friends and trusted each other.
“Don’t go bad or I’ll be back.” Alan smiled.
“I don’t think I can anymore.” Wu smiled.
“He’s got the heart!” Anna shouted. “He took a while to grow into it though!”
Dr. Wu smiled and waved. “Take care of her, she still needs her father.”
Alan nodded and stood next to his daughter.
“What do you think, two holes?” Anna asked.
Alan blew a raspberry. “Why waste the energy?”
Anna nodded. “So who is going to make it?”
Alan stroked his chin. “Rock paper scissors?”
Anna rolled her eyes and Hong Long roared and tore into reality leaving an extra large whole gaping open.
“See you in a week!” Anna laughed as she ran and jumped through. Salem came screaming after her shouting about not being ready.
“That’s CHEATING!” Alan shouted as he raced after his daughter. Vegeta sighed and ran after his friend, grumbling about losing the steak-off once more.
As he breached into the multiverse he felt the power of his new nature course through him. He held it back, but just barely. He wanted to show Darkseid exactly how bad he had messed up.
Anna also felt the power crest in her and she looked back and smiled at her father while Salem tumbled in the rear of Hong Long’s frame. She waved as her father and Vegeta skewed off in a different direction.
“I think I’m gonna puke!” Salem groaned as he spun around.
\\\\
First
Previous
End of the Daughter that Follows
SPOTIFY LIST!
////
All the Scions: OH!
S: Yup.
Astral: Fuck.
Maven: With extra cheddar.
Perfection: What?
Maven: It’s a saying from my home reality.
Perfection: But why Cheddar?
DM: How does he even have Cheddar, that’s from England.
Perfection: My head hurts.
S: So that’s her plan folks.
Mosious: That’s not good.
Theten: But there’s no need for Undeath. It’s antithetical to the universe!
Karma: Maybe it’s about exactly that. Like we’re concepts. What if she’s going for Extra material power.
S: Smart woman wins the prize.
Wraith: SHE... ANger... RAGE...
Karma: Oh no, he’s sputtering.
Astral: (steps back)
S: And now folks I work on outlining the final battle. I’ll know more about it’s length in a week or two. In the meantime I will continue to work on GSD.

When I was brand new to NovelAi I had no idea how 2048 tokens really looked as text. So for anyone looking at the tiers, trying to decide how many tokens they want for Clio with the new update, I've tokenized Part of The Great Gatsby by Scott Fitzgerald (public domain since 2021).
That way new users can more easily visualize what the AI's maximum context is for each tier. According to the UI Clio uses the NerdStash Tokenizer, as different tokenizers will convert text to tokens their own way.
------------------------
In my younger and more vulnerable years my father gave me some advice that I’ve been turning over in my mind ever since.
“Whenever you feel like criticizing anyone,” he told me, “just remember that all the people in this world haven’t had the advantages that you’ve had.”
He didn’t say any more, but we’ve always been unusually communicative in a reserved way, and I understood that he meant a great deal more than that. In consequence, I’m inclined to reserve all judgements, a habit that has opened up many curious natures to me and also made me the victim of not a few veteran bores. The abnormal mind is quick to detect and attach itself to this quality when it appears in a normal person, and so it came about that in college I was unjustly accused of being a politician, because I was privy to the secret griefs of wild, unknown men. Most of the confidences were unsought—frequently I have feigned sleep, preoccupation, or a hostile levity when I realized by some unmistakable sign that an intimate revelation was quivering on the horizon; for the intimate revelations of young men, or at least the terms in which they express them, are usually plagiaristic and marred by obvious suppressions. Reserving judgements is a matter of infinite hope. I am still a little afraid of missing something if I forget that, as my father snobbishly suggested, and I snobbishly repeat, a sense of the fundamental decencies is parcelled out unequally at birth.
And, after boasting this way of my tolerance, I come to the admission that it has a limit. Conduct may be founded on the hard rock or the wet marshes, but after a certain point I don’t care what it’s founded on. When I came back from the East last autumn I felt that I wanted the world to be in uniform and at a sort of moral attention forever; I wanted no more riotous excursions with privileged glimpses into the human heart. Only Gatsby, the man who gives his name to this book, was exempt from my reaction—Gatsby, who represented everything for which I have an unaffected scorn. If personality is an unbroken series of successful gestures, then there was something gorgeous about him, some heightened sensitivity to the promises of life, as if he were related to one of those intricate machines that register earthquakes ten thousand miles away. This responsiveness had nothing to do with that flabby impressionability which is dignified under the name of the “creative temperament”—it was an extraordinary gift for hope, a romantic readiness such as I have never found in any other person and which it is not likely I shall ever find again. No—Gatsby turned out all right at the end; it is what preyed on Gatsby, what foul dust floated in the wake of his dreams that temporarily closed out my interest in the abortive sorrows and short-winded elations of men.
My family have been prominent, well-to-do people in this Middle Western city for three generations. The Carraways are something of a clan, and we have a tradition that we’re descended from the Dukes of Buccleuch, but the actual founder of my line was my grandfather’s brother, who came here in fifty-one, sent a substitute to the Civil War, and started the wholesale hardware business that my father carries on today.
I never saw this great-uncle, but I’m supposed to look like him—with special reference to the rather hard-boiled painting that hangs in father’s office. I graduated from New Haven in 1915, just a quarter of a century after my father, and a little later I participated in that delayed Teutonic migration known as the Great War. I enjoyed the counter-raid so thoroughly that I came back restless. Instead of being the warm centre of the world, the Middle West now seemed like the ragged edge of the universe—so I decided to go East and learn the bond business. Everybody I knew was in the bond business, so I supposed it could support one more single man. All my aunts and uncles talked it over as if they were choosing a prep school for me, and finally said, “Why—ye-es,” with very grave, hesitant faces. Father agreed to finance me for a year, and after various delays I came East, permanently, I thought, in the spring of twenty-two.
The practical thing was to find rooms in the city, but it was a warm season, and I had just left a country of wide lawns and friendly trees, so when a young man at the office suggested that we take a house together in a commuting town, it sounded like a great idea. He found the house, a weather-beaten cardboard bungalow at eighty a month, but at the last minute the firm ordered him to Washington, and I went out to the country alone. I had a dog—at least I had him for a few days until he ran away—and an old Dodge and a Finnish woman, who made my bed and cooked breakfast and muttered Finnish wisdom to herself over the electric stove.
It was lonely for a day or so until one morning some man, more recently arrived than I, stopped me on the road.
“How do you get to West Egg village?” he asked helplessly.
I told him. And as I walked on I was lonely no longer. I was a guide, a pathfinder, an original settler. He had casually conferred on me the freedom of the neighbourhood.
And so with the sunshine and the great bursts of leaves growing on the trees, just as things grow in fast movies, I had that familiar conviction that life was beginning over again with the summer.
There was so much to read, for one thing, and so much fine health to be pulled down out of the young breath-giving air. I bought a dozen volumes on banking and credit and investment securities, and they stood on my shelf in red and gold like new money from the mint, promising to unfold the shining secrets that only Midas and Morgan and Maecenas knew. And I had the high intention of reading many other books besides. I was rather literary in college—one year I wrote a series of very solemn and obvious editorials for the Yale News—and now I was going to bring back all such things into my life and become again that most limited of all specialists, the “well-rounded man.” This isn’t just an epigram—life is much more successfully looked at from a single window, after all.
It was a matter of chance that I should have rented a house in one of the strangest communities in North America. It was on that slender riotous island which extends itself due east of New York—and where there are, among other natural curiosities, two unusual formations of land. Twenty miles from the city a pair of enormous eggs, identical in contour and separated only by a courtesy bay, jut out into the most domesticated body of salt water in the Western hemisphere, the great wet barnyard of Long Island Sound. They are not perfect ovals—like the egg in the Columbus story, they are both crushed flat at the contact end—but their physical resemblance must be a source of perpetual wonder to the gulls that fly overhead. To the wingless a more interesting phenomenon is their dissimilarity in every particular except shape and size.
I lived at West Egg, the—well, the less fashionable of the two, though this is a most superficial tag to express the bizarre and not a little sinister contrast between them. My house was at the very tip of the egg, only fifty yards from the Sound, and squeezed between two huge places that rented for twelve or fifteen thousand a season. The one on my right was a colossal affair by any standard—it was a factual imitation of some Hôtel de Ville in Normandy, with a tower on one side, spanking new under a thin beard of raw ivy, and a marble swimming pool, and more than forty acres of lawn and garden. It was Gatsby’s mansion. Or, rather, as I didn’t know Mr. Gatsby, it was a mansion inhabited by a gentleman of that name. My own house was an eyesore, but it was a small eyesore, and it had been overlooked, so I had a view of the water, a partial view of my neighbour’s lawn, and the consoling proximity of millionaires—all for eighty dollars a month.
Across the courtesy bay the white palaces of fashionable East Egg glittered along the water, and the history of the summer really begins on the evening I drove over there to have dinner with the Tom Buchanans. Daisy was my second cousin once removed, and I’d known Tom in college. And just after the war I spent two days with them in Chicago.
Her husband, among various physical accomplishments, had been one of the most powerful ends that ever played football at New Haven—a national figure in a way, one of those men who reach such an acute limited excellence at twenty-one that everything afterward savours of anticlimax. His family were enormously wealthy—even in college his freedom with money was a matter for reproach—but now he’d left Chicago and come East in a fashion that rather took your breath away: for instance, he’d brought down a string of polo ponies from Lake Forest. It was hard to realize that a man in my own generation was wealthy enough to do that.
Why they came East I don’t know. They had spent a year in France for no particular reason, and then drifted here and there unrestfully wherever people played polo and were rich together. This was a permanent move, said Daisy over the telephone, but I didn’t believe it—I had no sight into Daisy’s heart, but I felt that Tom would drift on forever seeking, a little wistfully, for the dramatic turbulence of some irrecoverable football game.
And so it happened that on a warm windy evening I drove over to East Egg to see two old friends whom I scarcely knew at all. Their house was even more elaborate than I expected, a cheerful red-and-white Georgian Colonial mansion, overlooking the bay. The lawn started at the beach and ran towards the front door for a quarter of a mile, jumping over sundials and brick walks and burning gardens—finally when it reached the house drifting up the side in bright vines as though from the momentum of its run. The front was broken by a line of French windows, glowing now with reflected gold and wide open to the warm windy afternoon, and Tom Buchanan in riding clothes was standing with his legs apart on the front porch.
He had changed since his New Haven years. Now he was a sturdy straw-haired man of thirty, with a rather hard mouth and a supercilious manner. Two shining arrogant eyes had established dominance over his face and gave him the appearance of always leaning aggressively forward. Not even the effeminate swank of his riding clothes could hide the enormous power of that body—he seemed to fill those glistening boots until he strained the top lacing, and you could see a great pack of muscle shifting when his shoulder moved under his thin coat. It was a body capable of enormous leverage—a cruel body.
His speaking voice, a gruff husky tenor, added to the impression of fractiousness he conveyed. There was a touch of paternal contempt in it, even toward people he liked—and there were men at New Haven who had hated his guts.
“Now, don’t think my opinion on these matters is final,” he seemed to say, “just because I’m stronger and more of a man than you are.” We were in the same senior society, and while we were never intimate I always had the impression that he approved of me and wanted me to like him with some harsh, defiant wistfulness of his own.
We talked for a few minutes on the sunny porch.
“I’ve got a nice place here,” he said, his eyes flashing about restlessly.
Turning me around by one arm, he moved a broad flat hand along the front vista, including in its sweep a sunken Italian garden, a half acre of deep, pungent roses, and a snub-nosed motorboat that bumped the tide offshore.
“It belonged to Demaine, the oil man.” He turned me around again, politely and abruptly. “We’ll go inside.”
We walked through a high hallway into a bright rosy-coloured space, fragilely bound into the house by French windows at either end. The windows were ajar and gleaming white against the fresh grass outside that seemed to grow a little way into the house. A breeze blew through the room, blew curtains in at one end and out the other like pale flags, twisting them up toward the frosted wedding-cake of the ceiling, and then rippled over the wine-coloured rug, making a shadow on it as wind does on the sea.
The only completely stationary object in the room was an enormous couch on which two young women were buoyed up as though upon an anchored balloon. They were both in white, and their dresses were rippling and fluttering as if they had just been blown back in after a short flight around the house. I must have stood for a few moments listening to the whip and snap of the curtains and the groan of a picture on the wall. Then there was a boom as Tom Buchanan shut the rear windows and the caught wind died out about the room, and the curtains and the rugs and the two young women ballooned slowly to the floor.
The younger of the two was a stranger to me. She was extended full length at her end of the divan, completely motionless, and with her chin raised a little, as if she were balancing something on it which was quite likely to fall. If she saw me out of the corner of her eyes she gave no hint of it—indeed, I was almost surprised into murmuring an apology for having disturbed her by coming in.
The other girl, Daisy, made an attempt to rise—she leaned slightly forward with a conscientious expression—then she laughed, an absurd, charming little laugh, and I laughed too and came forward into the room.
“I’m p-paralysed with happiness.”
She
------------------------
[Tablet: 3072 Tokens ]
------------------------
laughed again, as if she said something very witty, and held my hand for a moment, looking up into my face, promising that there was no one in the world she so much wanted to see. That was a way she had. She hinted in a murmur that the surname of the balancing girl was Baker. (I’ve heard it said that Daisy’s murmur was only to make people lean toward her; an irrelevant criticism that made it no less charming.)
At any rate, Miss Baker’s lips fluttered, she nodded at me almost imperceptibly, and then quickly tipped her head back again—the object she was balancing had obviously tottered a little and given her something of a fright. Again a sort of apology arose to my lips. Almost any exhibition of complete self-sufficiency draws a stunned tribute from me.
I looked back at my cousin, who began to ask me questions in her low, thrilling voice. It was the kind of voice that the ear follows up and down, as if each speech is an arrangement of notes that will never be played again. Her face was sad and lovely with bright things in it, bright eyes and a bright passionate mouth, but there was an excitement in her voice that men who had cared for her found difficult to forget: a singing compulsion, a whispered “Listen,” a promise that she had done gay, exciting things just a while since and that there were gay, exciting things hovering in the next hour.
I told her how I had stopped off in Chicago for a day on my way East, and how a dozen people had sent their love through me.
“Do they miss me?” she cried ecstatically.
“The whole town is desolate. All the cars have the left rear wheel painted black as a mourning wreath, and there’s a persistent wail all night along the north shore.”
“How gorgeous! Let’s go back, Tom. Tomorrow!” Then she added irrelevantly: “You ought to see the baby.”
“I’d like to.”
“She’s asleep. She’s three years old. Haven’t you ever seen her?”
“Never.”
“Well, you ought to see her. She’s—”
Tom Buchanan, who had been hovering restlessly about the room, stopped and rested his hand on my shoulder.
“What you doing, Nick?”
“I’m a bond man.”
“Who with?”
I told him.
“Never heard of them,” he remarked decisively.
This annoyed me.
“You will,” I answered shortly. “You will if you stay in the East.”
“Oh, I’ll stay in the East, don’t you worry,” he said, glancing at Daisy and then back at me, as if he were alert for something more. “I’d be a God damned fool to live anywhere else.”
At this point Miss Baker said: “Absolutely!” with such suddenness that I started—it was the first word she had uttered since I came into the room. Evidently it surprised her as much as it did me, for she yawned and with a series of rapid, deft movements stood up into the room.
“I’m stiff,” she complained, “I’ve been lying on that sofa for as long as I can remember.”
“Don’t look at me,” Daisy retorted, “I’ve been trying to get you to New York all afternoon.”
“No, thanks,” said Miss Baker to the four cocktails just in from the pantry. “I’m absolutely in training.”
Her host looked at her incredulously.
“You are!” He took down his drink as if it were a drop in the bottom of a glass. “How you ever get anything done is beyond me.”
I looked at Miss Baker, wondering what it was she “got done.” I enjoyed looking at her. She was a slender, small-breasted girl, with an erect carriage, which she accentuated by throwing her body backward at the shoulders like a young cadet. Her grey sun-strained eyes looked back at me with polite reciprocal curiosity out of a wan, charming, discontented face. It occurred to me now that I had seen her, or a picture of her, somewhere before.
“You live in West Egg,” she remarked contemptuously. “I know somebody there.”
“I don’t know a single—”
“You must know Gatsby.”
“Gatsby?” demanded Daisy. “What Gatsby?”
Before I could reply that he was my neighbour dinner was announced; wedging his tense arm imperatively under mine, Tom Buchanan compelled me from the room as though he were moving a checker to another square.
Slenderly, languidly, their hands set lightly on their hips, the two young women preceded us out on to a rosy-coloured porch, open toward the sunset, where four candles flickered on the table in the diminished wind.
“Why candles?” objected Daisy, frowning. She snapped them out with her fingers. “In two weeks it’ll be the longest day in the year.” She looked at us all radiantly. “Do you always watch for the longest day of the year and then miss it? I always watch for the longest day in the year and then miss it.”
“We ought to plan something,” yawned Miss Baker, sitting down at the table as if she were getting into bed.
“All right,” said Daisy. “What’ll we plan?” She turned to me helplessly: “What do people plan?”
Before I could answer her eyes fastened with an awed expression on her little finger.
“Look!” she complained; “I hurt it.”
We all looked—the knuckle was black and blue.
“You did it, Tom,” she said accusingly. “I know you didn’t mean to, but you did do it. That’s what I get for marrying a brute of a man, a great, big, hulking physical specimen of a—”
“I hate that word ‘hulking,’ ” objected Tom crossly, “even in kidding.”
“Hulking,” insisted Daisy.
Sometimes she and Miss Baker talked at once, unobtrusively and with a bantering inconsequence that was never quite chatter, that was as cool as their white dresses and their impersonal eyes in the absence of all desire. They were here, and they accepted Tom and me, making only a polite pleasant effort to entertain or to be entertained. They knew that presently dinner would be over and a little later the evening too would be over and casually put away. It was sharply different from the West, where an evening was hurried from phase to phase towards its close, in a continually disappointed anticipation or else in sheer nervous dread of the moment itself.
“You make me feel uncivilized, Daisy,” I confessed on my second glass of corky but rather impressive claret. “Can’t you talk about crops or something?”
I meant nothing in particular by this remark, but it was taken up in an unexpected way.
“Civilization’s going to pieces,” broke out Tom violently. “I’ve gotten to be a terrible pessimist about things. Have you read The Rise of the Coloured Empires by this man Goddard?”
“Why, no,” I answered, rather surprised by his tone.
“Well, it’s a fine book, and everybody ought to read it. The idea is if we don’t look out the white race will be—will be utterly submerged. It’s all scientific stuff; it’s been proved.”
“Tom’s getting very profound,” said Daisy, with an expression of unthoughtful sadness. “He reads deep books with long words in them. What was that word we—”
“Well, these books are all scientific,” insisted Tom, glancing at her impatiently. “This fellow has worked out the whole thing. It’s up to us, who are the dominant race, to watch out or these other races will have control of things.”
“We’ve got to beat them down,” whispered Daisy, winking ferociously toward the fervent sun.
“You ought to live in California—” began Miss Baker, but Tom interrupted her by shifting heavily in his chair.
“This idea is that we’re Nordics. I am, and you are, and you are, and—” After an infinitesimal hesitation he included Daisy with a slight nod, and she winked at me again. “—And we’ve produced all the things that go to make civilization—oh, science and art, and all that. Do you see?”
There was something pathetic in his concentration, as if his complacency, more acute than of old, was not enough to him any more. When, almost immediately, the telephone rang inside and the butler left the porch Daisy seized upon the momentary interruption and leaned towards me.
“I’ll tell you a family secret,” she whispered enthusiastically. “It’s about the butler’s nose. Do you want to hear about the butler’s nose?”
“That’s why I came over tonight.”
“Well, he wasn’t always a butler; he used to be the silver polisher for some people in New York that had a silver service for two hundred people. He had to polish it from morning till night, until finally it began to affect his nose—”
“Things went from bad to worse,” suggested Miss Baker.
“Yes. Things went from bad to worse, until finally he had to give up his position.”
For a moment the last sunshine fell with romantic affection upon her glowing face; her voice compelled me forward breathlessly as I listened—then the glow faded, each light deserting her with lingering regret, like children leaving a pleasant street at dusk.
The butler came back and murmured something close to Tom’s ear, whereupon Tom frowned, pushed back his chair, and without a word went inside. As if his absence quickened something within her, Daisy leaned forward again, her voice glowing and singing.
“I love to see you at my table, Nick. You remind me of a—of a rose, an absolute rose. Doesn’t he?” She turned to Miss Baker for confirmation: “An absolute rose?”
This was untrue. I am not even faintly like a rose. She was only extemporizing, but a stirring warmth flowed from her, as if her heart was trying to come out to you concealed in one of those breathless, thrilling words. Then suddenly she threw her napkin on the table and excused herself and went into the house.
Miss Baker and I exchanged a short glance consciously devoid of meaning. I was about to speak when she sat up alertly and said “Sh!” in a warning voice. A subdued impassioned murmur was audible in the room beyond, and Miss Baker leaned forward unashamed, trying to hear. The murmur trembled on the verge of coherence, sank down, mounted excitedly, and then ceased altogether.
“This Mr. Gatsby you spoke of is my neighbour—” I began.
“Don’t talk. I want to hear what happens.”
“Is something happening?” I inquired innocently.
“You mean to say you don’t know?” said Miss Baker, honestly surprised. “I thought everybody knew.”
“I don’t.”
“Why—” she said hesitantly. “Tom’s got some woman in New York.”
“Got some woman?” I repeated blankly.
Miss Baker nodded.
“She might have the decency not to telephone him at dinner time. Don’t you think?”
Almost before I had grasped her meaning there was the flutter of a dress and the crunch of leather boots, and Tom and Daisy were back at the table.
“It couldn’t be helped!” cried Daisy with tense gaiety.
She sat down, glanced searchingly at Miss Baker and then at me, and continued: “I looked outdoors for a minute, and it’s very romantic outdoors. There’s a bird on the lawn that I think must be a nightingale come over on the Cunard or White Star Line. He’s singing away—” Her voice sang: “It’s romantic, isn’t it, Tom?”
“Very romantic,” he said, and then miserably to me: “If it’s light enough after dinner, I want to take you down to the stables.”
The telephone rang inside, startlingly, and as Daisy shook her head decisively at Tom the subject of the stables, in fact all subjects, vanished into air. Among the broken fragments of the last five minutes at table I remember the candles being lit again, pointlessly, and I was conscious of wanting to look squarely at everyone, and yet to avoid all eyes. I couldn’t guess what Daisy and Tom were thinking, but I doubt if even Miss Baker, who seemed to have mastered a certain hardy scepticism, was able utterly to put this fifth guest’s shrill metallic urgency out of mind. To a certain temperament the situation might have seemed intriguing—my own instinct was to telephone immediately for the police.
The horses, needless to say, were not mentioned again. Tom and Miss Baker, with several feet of twilight between them, strolled back into the library, as if to a vigil beside a perfectly tangible body, while, trying to look pleasantly interested and a little deaf, I followed Daisy around a chain of connecting verandas to the porch in front. In its deep gloom we sat down side by side on a wicker settee.
Daisy took her face in her hands as if feeling its lovely shape, and her eyes moved gradually out into the velvet dusk. I saw that turbulent emotions possessed her, so I asked what I thought would be some sedative questions about her little girl.
“We don’t know each other very well, Nick,” she said suddenly. “Even if we are cousins. You didn’t come to my wedding.”
“I wasn’t back from the war.”
“That’s true.” She hesitated. “Well, I’ve had a very bad time, Nick, and I’m pretty cynical about everything.”
Evidently she had reason to be. I waited but she
------------------------
[Scroll: 6144 Tokens ]
------------------------
didn’t say any more, and after a moment I returned rather feebly to the subject of her daughter.
“I suppose she talks, and—eats, and everything.”
“Oh, yes.” She looked at me absently. “Listen, Nick; let me tell you what I said when she was born. Would you like to hear?”
“Very much.”
“It’ll show you how I’ve gotten to feel about—things. Well, she was less than an hour old and Tom was God knows where. I woke up out of the ether with an utterly abandoned feeling, and asked the nurse right away if it was a boy or a girl. She told me it was a girl, and so I turned my head away and wept. ‘All right,’ I said, ‘I’m glad it’s a girl. And I hope she’ll be a fool—that’s the best thing a girl can be in this world, a beautiful little fool.’
“You see I think everything’s terrible anyhow,” she went on in a convinced way. “Everybody thinks so—the most advanced people. And I know. I’ve been everywhere and seen everything and done everything.” Her eyes flashed around her in a defiant way, rather like Tom’s, and she laughed with thrilling scorn. “Sophisticated—God, I’m sophisticated!”
The instant her voice broke off, ceasing to compel my attention, my belief, I felt the basic insincerity of what she had said. It made me uneasy, as though the whole evening had been a trick of some sort to exact a contributory emotion from me. I waited, and sure enough, in a moment she looked at me with an absolute smirk on her lovely face, as if she had asserted her membership in a rather distinguished secret society to which she and Tom belonged.
Inside, the crimson room bloomed with light. Tom and Miss Baker sat at either end of the long couch and she read aloud to him from the Saturday Evening Post—the words, murmurous and uninflected, running together in a soothing tune. The lamplight, bright on his boots and dull on the autumn-leaf yellow of her hair, glinted along the paper as she turned a page with a flutter of slender muscles in her arms.
When we came in she held us silent for a moment with a lifted hand.
“To be continued,” she said, tossing the magazine on the table, “in our very next issue.”
Her body asserted itself with a restless movement of her knee, and she stood up.
“Ten o’clock,” she remarked, apparently finding the time on the ceiling. “Time for this good girl to go to bed.”
“Jordan’s going to play in the tournament tomorrow,” explained Daisy, “over at Westchester.”
“Oh—you’re Jordan Baker.”
I knew now why her face was familiar—its pleasing contemptuous expression had looked out at me from many rotogravure pictures of the sporting life at Asheville and Hot Springs and Palm Beach. I had heard some story of her too, a critical, unpleasant story, but what it was I had forgotten long ago.
“Good night,” she said softly. “Wake me at eight, won’t you.”
“If you’ll get up.”
“I will. Good night, Mr. Carraway. See you anon.”
“Of course you will,” confirmed Daisy. “In fact I think I’ll arrange a marriage. Come over often, Nick, and I’ll sort of—oh—fling you together. You know—lock you up accidentally in linen closets and push you out to sea in a boat, and all that sort of thing—”
“Good night,” called Miss Baker from the stairs. “I haven’t heard a word.”
“She’s a nice girl,” said Tom after a moment. “They oughtn’t to let her run around the country this way.”
“Who oughtn’t to?” inquired Daisy coldly.
“Her family.”
“Her family is one aunt about a thousand years old. Besides, Nick’s going to look after her, aren’t you, Nick? She’s going to spend lots of weekends out here this summer. I think the home influence will be very good for her.”
Daisy and Tom looked at each other for a moment in silence.
“Is she from New York?” I asked quickly.
“From Louisville. Our white girlhood was passed together there. Our beautiful white—”
“Did you give Nick a little heart to heart talk on the veranda?” demanded Tom suddenly.
“Did I?” She looked at me. “I can’t seem to remember, but I think we talked about the Nordic race. Yes, I’m sure we did. It sort of crept up on us and first thing you know—”
“Don’t believe everything you hear, Nick,” he advised me.
I said lightly that I had heard nothing at all, and a few minutes later I got up to go home. They came to the door with me and stood side by side in a cheerful square of light. As I started my motor Daisy peremptorily called: “Wait!”
“I forgot to ask you something, and it’s important. We heard you were engaged to a girl out West.”
“That’s right,” corroborated Tom kindly. “We heard that you were engaged.”
“It’s a libel. I’m too poor.”
“But we heard it,” insisted Daisy, surprising me by opening up again in a flower-like way. “We heard it from three people, so it must be true.”
Of course I knew what they were referring to, but I wasn’t even vaguely engaged. The fact that gossip had published the banns was one of the reasons I had come East. You can’t stop going with an old friend on account of rumours, and on the other hand I had no intention of being rumoured into marriage.
Their interest rather touched me and made them less remotely rich—nevertheless, I was confused and a little disgusted as I drove away. It seemed to me that the thing for Daisy to do was to rush out of the house, child in arms—but apparently there were no such intentions in her head. As for Tom, the fact that he “had some woman in New York” was really less surprising than that he had been depressed by a book. Something was making him nibble at the edge of stale ideas as if his sturdy physical egotism no longer nourished his peremptory heart.
Already it was deep summer on roadhouse roofs and in front of wayside garages, where new red petrol-pumps sat out in pools of light, and when I reached my estate at West Egg I ran the car under its shed and sat for a while on an abandoned grass roller in the yard. The wind had blown off, leaving a loud, bright night, with wings beating in the trees and a persistent organ sound as the full bellows of the earth blew the frogs full of life. The silhouette of a moving cat wavered across the moonlight, and, turning my head to watch it, I saw that I was not alone—fifty feet away a figure had emerged from the shadow of my neighbour’s mansion and was standing with his hands in his pockets regarding the silver pepper of the stars. Something in his leisurely movements and the secure position of his feet upon the lawn suggested that it was Mr. Gatsby himself, come out to determine what share was his of our local heavens.
I decided to call to him. Miss Baker had mentioned him at dinner, and that would do for an introduction. But I didn’t call to him, for he gave a sudden intimation that he was content to be alone—he stretched out his arms toward the dark water in a curious way, and, far as I was from him, I could have sworn he was trembling. Involuntarily I glanced seaward—and distinguished nothing except a single green light, minute and far away, that might have been the end of a dock. When I looked once more for Gatsby he had vanished, and I was alone again in the unquiet darkness.
II
About halfway between West Egg and New York the motor road hastily joins the railroad and runs beside it for a quarter of a mile, so as to shrink away from a certain desolate area of land. This is a valley of ashes—a fantastic farm where ashes grow like wheat into ridges and hills and grotesque gardens; where ashes take the forms of houses and chimneys and rising smoke and, finally, with a transcendent effort, of ash-grey men, who move dimly and already crumbling through the powdery air. Occasionally a line of grey cars crawls along an invisible track, gives out a ghastly creak, and comes to rest, and immediately the ash-grey men swarm up with leaden spades and stir up an impenetrable cloud, which screens their obscure operations from your sight.
But above the grey land and the spasms of bleak dust which drift endlessly over it, you perceive, after a moment, the eyes of Doctor T. J. Eckleburg. The eyes of Doctor T. J. Eckleburg are blue and gigantic—their retinas are one yard high. They look out of no face, but, instead, from a pair of enormous yellow spectacles which pass over a nonexistent nose. Evidently some wild wag of an oculist set them there to
------------------------
[Opus: 8192 Tokens ]
------------------------

Just a heads up, this guy is used in a universe where hawkmoth treat crime more like a bossiness and as such akumatizes criminals and villains rather than peeved teenagers and disgruntled citizens... basically hawkmoth isn't stupid

OC details:

Name: jonathan hughes
Alias: shadow spider
Miraculous: none/ tech based hero
Symbolism: death and creation

Backstory:

Johnathan was raised by his dad as a single man, An estranged sister, and a mother who died giving birth to john, as such his dad gave him all the love that he could in the small town in the middle of kent england where his dad made hid money as an engineer before moving off to paris with john who was just 3 years old. Life took a swift turn for the best, quickly establishing his talents for weapon creation and design, johnathans father quickly folded a company called Hughes industries where he designed weapons for the parisian military, rubbing shoulders with the elites of france including the agreste's, the tsugurgi's, and the Bourgeois's leaving john to become good friends with both adrien and chloe(shes still a bitch though). All the while johnathans technological prowess also grew, he was making his own video games at 4, designing web browsers at 5, and age 6 made a military grade AI for hid own amusement called SpyDar(spy radar, also sounds like spider😁) with his dad using johnathan on occasion to help implement some of the code to his more advanced weapons. Hawkmoth had wanted johns father to supply his goons with new weaponry, when he refused.... so, at age 10 johnathan watched as hawkmoth crushed his beloved fathers head between his hands like it were a balloon forever traumatising him and essentially killing the boy as well. He since spent his days training to become as strong as possible, his evenings developing his tech to make up for his short comings, and his evening trying to find out who hawkmoth is and where to find him. He's softened up a bit over the course of those 5 years, from wraithful vengeance to a dark defender of the night having even turned his base of operations(which is a big empty warehouse) into a hostel for families who have lost everything to villain attacks, and doing what he can to protect the hurt and innocent

Appearance:

Civilian form
Jonathan is a mix between max and kim, he's tall with an athletic build though tends to wear geeky clothes, not much caring for fashion. He wears his super suit under his shirt, the black sleeves clearly visible, though wears a green comic shirt over it, making it look like a more estethical choice. He also wears brown cargo pants and plain black runners. His shield compacts down into his watch with most of his gear ready to go at a moments notice. His only bit of equipment that is missing is his helmet which is kept in his bag which he takes every where with him. His hair is a plain black with blue high lights, his skin is extraordinarily pale and his eyes are a very dark blue.
Hero form
An almost entirely black suit with a white outline marking holes in his mask, they are sharp looking eyes that are pointed to look like a permanent scowl with a thin white outline. small holes that allow him to breath through the mask (ill give him a water upgrade later) which leads into a grey chest piece that covers and created the illusion of pecs, Abs, and runs down to his crotch to protect that as well. On his chest is a large spider web that forms a semi circle, and hanging from it, a large black spider with sharp edges and somewhat realistic anatomy. On my shoulders are thick metal plating which is also present on his knees and elbows, a blue LED strip denotes wheres the endoskeleton is which is his most armoured point and is meant to draw fire, it can also be turned off either by removing his helmet or per his request. His bottom half is quite plain bar the same black runners he wears in his civilian form, shiny black metal knee guards, and blue LED that runs down the side of his legs. The shield is a mat black with a web pattern on it that has 4 lines that go through the centre and create 8 segments with 3 webs between each larger thread. The webs are white.

Personality:

Johnathan is ultimately altruistic but reserved, knowing that showing off could get him discovered as shadow spider, pretending to basically be a weak coward so no one would suspect him to be shadow spider. Quite nerdy, he's a part of multiple super hero fandoms, usually using them for inspiration for tech and techniques. Johnathan is also prone to bouts of anger where his facade will drop and he'll act more like shadow. Also as johnathan has a high pitched voice with a notable french accent.
As shadow spider he's a different person entirely, even his voice becomes much lower, slightly gravely and distinctly english. His altruistic nature subsides somewhat and has little compassion for criminals and villains, often brutalising them so badly that without immediate medical attention they'd likely die of their injuries. With that being said, he'll only do that to someone who has taken a life, if you didn't understand the weight of you're actions, or you were otherwise justified in his eyes then he will put his life in the line to save yours.

Powers/abilities:

Web generation
Through the use of specialised gauntlets he is able to generate a strong web like substance which is also used for transportation and through the use of various nozzles can be adjusted suit any given need.
Spiked gloves/soles
Through specialised tech his shoes and gloves can produce extremely sharp claws which can be used in combat, but are primarily used to climb walls and other surfaces. These claws also have small injectors that allow him to inject a villain with a neurotoxin that causes paralysis for 24 hours.
Parkour
Jonathan is adept at utilising his environment in order to maximise his mobility options, able to beat an olympian in a race across paris due to his parkour prowess this is just to give him reason to be able to be able move that quickly)
Exoskeleton
A lightweights exoskeleton hidden beneath his suit allows for super human strength feats, up to roughly 3x peak human strength, though only about half as strong as a miraculous holder, also allows for super speed whilst running, hits like a truck, and 5 meter high jumps
SpyDar
An ai that jonathan developed to help analyse his environment including xray vision, internet access, telecommunications access, hacking and many other abilities. He formed his hero identity after his SpyDar systems.
Tech wizard
He's good with computers
Titanum weave suit
Though not impervious to damage jonathan is still able to take hits from your average akuma victim and keep fighting. This weave is light and breathable, though some areas are clearly better armoured including the full metal face shell, the knee and elbow pads, and thicker padding around the chest area.
Repulse canon/ explosive shield
And finally jonathan's shield, though it is made from the same titanium as his face shell it has a web pattern 'engraved' on it. Though these engravings are in fact outlets for a repulse canon which is strong enough to knock down a brick wall without having to use his main suits power supply. Along its edges are another outlet except this one for c4, allowing jonathan a chance against akuma victims with real fire power. The back is also equipt with some smaller devices including trackers, additional cameras to scope an area out more effectively, web grenades, audio lures and an electromagnet to both summon the shield when needed and attach it to his arm or back. It also has small spikes that can inject a neurotoxin into his opponents that will paralysise them for the nest 24 hours

Weaknesses:

Low battery
If jonathan's shield runs out of power he can still carry it around with him, however if his suit does the same then not only does he loose his powers but he's now weighed down and essentialy trapped inside of a metal tomb during a fight
Emp blasts
See above
Fatigue
Jonathan is only human without any additional powers and general combat will slow him down quickly and leave him tired and unable to operate
Being hacked
A simple computer virus is enough to stop most of his powers except for the endoskeleton and web shooters, beyond that he is helpless afterwards
Hand to hand combat
Jonathan knows very little about combat and relies on his gear and environment to neutralise an opponent, getting up close and personal is a great way to deal with him.

Going through the whole process and following all directions, but it keeps saying no compatible devices found? Anyone else run into this issue?
I have the headphones in the update mode and when i hit plug into computer nothing recognizes it.