Double dares dirty

Hi all.
I have something of monumental importance here.
In the process of trying to replicate a material that apparently may have originated in Roswell, NM I have inadvertently generated a compound with apparent properties a lot like the material James Cameron claimed that the Terminator was made of in "Judgement Day".
It appears that in this case the reason why it worked was that the specific base elements I'd used had a specific anomalous isotope ratio. As such it behaved normally but what did seem odd is when I attempted to re-melt it the alloy behaved strangely. Normally with eutectics it melts all at once but this did not.
Had to get it to near the boiling point of water. Assuming that the formula was messed up double and triple checked, looked OK. Re-melted it all eventually with a lot of effort (heated in air to >140C) and it finally melted then behaved normally again.
What went a bit strange was when I attempted to see if it now behaved like the other sample ie melting at 62c and it did.
Thought just to see what would happen, put some back in another container and poured in some warm water. Melted into a puddle as you might expect.
Poured in some BOILING water. didn't do anything at first. Went off to do something else and heard a strange noise.
Thinking the container had cracked, went to look at my sample. Was very astonished to see that it had not only solidified but now held a shape exactly like the glass container I'd used hours earlier for its manufacture even down to the writing on the base of it.
As I watched, it appeared to flow back into a puddle again over maybe 5-10 seconds.
Literally WTF'd at that point.
I still have the sample, haven't dared try anything else because it has enormous scientific value.
It doesn't appear that it can do anything much below 56C but did exhibit some strange electrical properties and a sample made much earlier using a domestic microwave and extended "cooking" seemed to have an odd anomalous resistance drop near 4 celsius which later samples didn't have.
From my analysis so far, it appears that a specific combination of isotopes may be the mechanism that allows it to work.
Can anyone possibly explain how this might happen?
Many years ago I mentioned at an event the possibility of "Metallic life" and was laughed at. The mechanism mentioned was using specific metal isotopes and it would be meta-stable at around 300-450 Celsius which could be relevant to "Hycean" planets and Venus in our own Solar System.
Whether a liquid metallic compound could produce cells and hold genetic information in the form of a "MNA" backbone a lot like DNA is currently not known but it certainly looks like it.

I don’t know where else to say this. No one believes me, no one that hasn’t seen it already. But I have to say something so here it is and the world can decide.
I was a good worker. I showed up for my shifts and did what my written job description said, never missed a day or a chance for a day off. My goal was to be average, to not be good enough to noticed and given more responsibilities, but also not be bad enough to be noticed and put on watch. It’s what I’ve done all my life. Fly under the radar, be easily missed during inspections and blend into the crowd. I got B’s in school, had no intention of going to college or university, not like I’d ever be able to afford it, just wanted a secure job to let me afford my underachieving lifestyle. Took me almost ten years to find something like that, drifitng from one job to another, leaving when too many people started to notice I was much better at the job than I let on.
And eventually I found the perfect fit for myself. I was an overnight security operator, don’t get excited it’s a fancy title for spending all night watching security monitors, for a commuter train. I can’t say which one or where for the safety of others and myself. The job was simple, watch the camera feeds of my designated train and write a report for anything unusual. On a rare occasion make a statement to the police, and I mean rare occasion. In my five years doing that job I spoke to the police maybe twice before the incident.
I think that’s enough background so onto the point. It was a regular Thursday night, shift started at 10pm, working with Larry, Bob, and Sue (not their real names for their safety and more importantly, mine) watching the cameras. Made some notes, forgotten umbrella (wasn’t raining), camera glitch, group of 4 drunk men, person in hoodie doing the drug addict lean (you know the one). The camera glitch was expected, an extension to the rail line was recently completed which included a very long tunnel through a hill side, which about the middle of it was so deep that the cameras would cut out for about 2-3 seconds. It was actually pretty amazing that we got any signal from the trains in the tunnel at all. The wonders of signal boosters. But something about that night caught my attention. I didn’t know what it was at first, just felt something was off. I ignored it that night because at 3 am, everything feels weird. At the end of the shift, about 930am I made my report for the night, handed the desk over to Bill (again, not their real name) and went home on the same train system I monitored.
But the feeling was still in my head. Something happened on the train that night that I wasn’t consciously aware of. I ignored it still, drank my favorite cheap whiskey and went to bed. The feeling stayed with me the next few days. That damned feeling that you know something isn’t right but you can’t figure out. It’s like when you accidently put your phone in a different pocket than normal. So finally on Monday night (you have no idea how busy security monitors get on weekends) when my trains were in the depot getting cleaned I brought up the Thursday night footage and scrolled through it. Same things I made note of were there but the feeling was still there. So I went through it again. And again. The fifth time through I finally found it.
On the third wagon, almost in the blindspot between the cameras, at 2:58am was a regular person just playing a game on their phone. The camera glitched for 2 seconds, and they were gone. I though maybe they just moved completely into the blindspot but no, they were gone. Didn’t get off the train, didn’t reappear. I checked the entire recording of the night. I had no idea what to do. I should have told someone, or made a report, or anything. Instead, I told myself that was really weird and kept doing my thing. Flying under the radar, trying to be mostly invisible.
Two weeks later on Monday night, I saw it again. The camera glitch, and someone disappearing. I scrolled back the footage to make sure. Again, I did nothing. This time telling myself it was just shadows on the lense or the plastic bubble around the camera was dirty. But you know what they say; once is odd, twice is a coincidence, thrice is a pattern. The third time I did something. I made a report. Yeah, real brave i know. Making a comment about “shadows on the lense after tunnel glitch” on my daily report. But that night I started looking into missing people cases. Larry asked what I was doing, I said reading the news while my train was getting cleaned. Better than Bob, who was usually watching youtube and/or playing games on his phone while his train was still making rounds.
Anyways, I found some leads. 3 missing people, last seen heading to the public commuter train before disappearing. But there were more, so many more. Dozens over the past several years, all last seen heading into the area above the new tunnel. Unsurprisingly, they had all been alone at the time.
I won’t go into detail about how this troubled me for nearly a year. Just know that eventually curiosity got its way. On a night off I got my jacket and went out to a train station. Late spring night, a bit colder than prefered, 2am train. The last circuit before this train would make for the depot for maintenance. And I was on it. It would take nearly an hour to reach the tunnel and I was scared but I had to know. Like all those times you watch or read some horror and the character starts reaching for the obviously dangerous thing, you mock them endlessly but I understood now. Fear of the unknown is strong and just seeing what is obviously evil will help you put it out of your mind. But I knew the rules. Be ready to run, have two exits planned, don’t look back.
I sat near the door because I didn’t want to stand the whole time. And when the train finally barreled into the tunnel I started to regret my choice. It was nearly a mile long and just enough room for the train and a very brave worker on each side. I watched my watch 2:59am and ticking closer to 3am. Tick, tick, tick. Who knew a twenty year old analog watch could be so ominous? But then my watch stopped. I looked out the windows and the train had stopped. Not rolled to a stop like trains need to do, just complete dead stop and I didn’t notice. But the lights on the walls were stretched out, the effect that you can only see when you’re moving past them really fast in the dark. My first thought, being a sci-fi fan was that time stopped, yet I moved.
Then I heard a scream and footsteps at the end of the train behind me. I thought about the rules of survival I made and then thought about time being stopped, would the doors open? WOuld I be safe jumping from the train? I’ve seen what happens when someone gets clipped by a train (one of the reasons I had to speak to police) and it’s messy. I heard another scream, desperate and afraid, then the sound of someone tumbling to the floor and something scratching over the floor. A phone bounced off my foot and spun to a stop in front of me. I looked down at it as the screams behind mean grew more horrified and pained. I dared a look at the window to see the reflection of what was happening. And the best I can say is smoke pouring over someone but it was completely shredding the person like a blender but not making a noise and vacuuming up the shreds. Some mental fortitude I didn’t know about kept me from puking and stock still. The screams eventually came to a wet gurgling end and in the reflection I saw a pair of lights flick on in the smoke. Looking back they were eyes but in the moment they were two neon blue lights looking at the window, then making eye contact with me in the reflection. I held my breath.
The smoke soundlessly glided up the aisle and I kept still, not moving at all, keeping my eyes exactly were they were focused before. It drifted closer and closer to me and by god I wanted to cry. It hovered there letting me catch a scent and I want to say it smelled like something burning, or like rot and death, or anything bad. But it was worse, so much worse. It smelled like cooked pork, lightly burnt. It hovered for what felt like hours beside me, I was desperate for air, my eyes were burning from not blinking and those neon lights were staring into my soul. Then the train wobbled as it passed a bend. I have no idea when the thing disappeared or when time resumed, felt like I blacked out for a moment but I know that's not what it was.
I sat there in my seat blinking and breathing deeply to recover. And then I looked down. The phone was still on the floor near my feet. I left it there but I kept staring at it, like when you notice broken glass on the ground and focus on it so you can avoid stepping in it. At the next station i got off the train and went to an always open fast food place. I got a coffee and started writing this. It would be two hours until a train back towards my apartment, one that takes the old long route around the tunnel.
I didn't sleep that day. How could I after watching someone get shredded and devoured? So I sat at my PC and wandered through my games library all day. Think I fell asleep a couple times for maybe an hour. Next night I went to work like normal, focused on my usual behavior. But after two hours I was called into my supervisor's office.
It was relatively normal, they check in with night shift people every few months to make sure we're doing okay. See if we want to change to day shift for mental health. Was all normal until he put his clipboard down and off to the side. He took a deep breath and looked at me, like really looked. That deep penetrating look when someone can see through your lies.
“You saw it.” He said. Three simple words that felt like he was telling me I had a fatal incurable illness. I just nodded. “You have two choices now. Like all of us that know. Either you leave and find a new job and never speak of the incident because you will be a suspect in the disappearance; or you keep doing your job as you always have but with a raise to ignore the camera glitches.” I sat for a while assuming I had to make a choice then and there.
That conversation has been burned into my brain. I still remember it verbatim. And I wish I could say I made the morally correct choice. But I'm an underachieving coward always looking to take the easy path. So I still watch the cameras through the night, but with some extra money to ignore the occasional camera glitch on the extension. I found out accidentally that Larry and Sue also knew about the incidents and made the same choice I did. And we all knew the same amount of nothing and we prefer it that way.
So that's why I'm putting this out there. Maybe someday someone better than me can figure this out.
I still can't eat pork.

I clearly see my pattern in my past relationships: having no tolerance for perceived double standards or feeling accused or mischaracterized. So when I feel those things, I get defensive and try to stick up for myself, instead of just trying to see what my partner needs.
I’m in a good relationship now and I want to overcome this pattern so I can get better at relationships and help take this to the next level. My girlfriend and I have good communication until we’re hurt. I’ve been working on my reactions, taking a breath and separating my rational minds from my hurt ego. But like that’s one thing, she doesn’t think that’s healthy, and to walk away if I think I need to calm down in order to talk better is seen as immature.
We’re trying for the second time to live together and we’re in a small granny apartment on my parent’s property. It’s not ideal but it’s had its benefits. Anyway, she had to move out of her place and we hadn’t found an ideal place of our own yet, so she moved in with me at my parents. For context, I had moved away after college, got married and divorced, then came home to recover after the hard divorce. Now years later, I’m trying to make this new relationship work.
I feel like no matter what I do, she keeps telling me I’m not doing anything and is harboring resentment. She moved in with me and I had spent a lot of time, for example: making more shelves in the bathroom for her, cleaning out the bedroom closet and armoire so she could have everything for clothes, moving all my personal things out of the living room and rearranging to make more space, getting chickens and building a coop and multiple garden beds because she wanted them, I support her in building her business and try to help get navigate a stressful current job she reluctantly has while she wants to keep it. I financially provide and spend a lot of time working on my ego and not reacting from it.
Tonight has me really hurt, though, and my avoidant attachment is really kicking in. We had both worked all day and she was going to be late, so she said to do my own thing for dinner. I was working in the yard, took a shower, and was starting dishes, then planning to cook something for dinner. That’s when she walked in and freaked out because there wasn’t any dinner ready and the kitchen was dirty. She said she assumed that I might have food ready and was really disappointed. I offered to make her food and she said she didn’t want to think and didn’t want me to ask her questions. We calm down and try to talk later and she says that I didn’t do anything to prepare for her to move in. And that when I said my first priority was to make like comfortable for her here (but not complacent and stagnant), and second priority is to keep saving money and looking for a new house. She took this as so confusing and offensive and said we shouldn’t be comfortable here.
I get it she wants to move out but we have high standards and a lot of criteria we’re looking for and we haven’t found out yet on a place we can afford. So we’ve talked that we’re going to live here for the summer (about 4 months of time we talked about) and focus on increasing revenue and saving money so we can jump on a good place when we find it. A couple days, out of nowhere, she said that we only talked about staying 2 months and we have to be out by beginning of July.
I get that she’s anxious and needs reassurance. I repeat our plan back to her and she argues with it. Everyday she had a new idea that she wants to run with and I’ve seen she has a pattern of finding problems and focusing on them. She said awhile back that she feels anxious immediately upon waking in the morning.
How do I work with her and come from love and compassion when I feel legitimately disrespected and hurt? I communicate this and hold my boundary, and her response is, “do you understand why I feel this way?” And when I do understand, I say yes. Tonight, I don’t understand and I said that, then she stopped talking to me… until I started to do dishes again, then she came out yelled at me because I was making too much noise and she had to sleep for her big day tomorrow.
Am I missing something? My rough marriage was to an abusive woman and I didn’t have good boundaries back then and it took too long to recognize the issues.
Is this another abusive situation or am I being too sensitive, or not compromising enough? Even though I feel like I’m pretty much the only one compromising on things.
Thanks for reading. I tried to keep things clear as I could. Any help is appreciated.

Hey everyone, firstly I wanna say thank you for the support I'm getting talking about all this. I've mentioned it already but it really does help me feel less crazy just being able to dump this all on someone and not feel like I'm going to have to go to a mental hospital or something. I also meant to post this update earlier today, but my internet was acting strange and would let me do anything with it all day. Finally was able to post using the internet at work and I hope a few things that happened in this story will explain some stuff, or maybe just raise more questions. Who knows at this point.
One thing that's helped besides trauma dumping here is a friend I have here asked me to a lake nearby to hang out for Memorial Day. Of course with everything going on here, I was more than happy to accept. If not just to get away for a while. We had a great day, beers, swimming, finally seeing some people I knew were real again. The whole past weekend or so has been a lot and some sense of normalcy really helped my nerves. It still all weighed on the back of my mind though. The man with the box, the key, the screams and knocking. Especially Macy. Maybe some part of me just wanted to brush off our last weird text interaction and see her again. Maybe some part, I'd say the bigger part, just wanted to figure out if she's related to this somehow.
When I got back last night, it was the same as always. Not a single person around. Again I wanna be clear, there's a ton of cars in the parking lot, like to the point I have trouble finding a spot close to my building door. And obviously I've seen the man with the box and Macy, so I know there's definitely people that live here. But nobody around, except them of course. I guess this time it could've just been the fact I got home late. Still... it gives me chills the deeper I think about it.
I made my way up the stairs to my apartment, the echoing of my footsteps through the stairwell emphasizing to me just how alone I was. Back inside, I unconsciously threw my own keys on my counter right next to the key from before and it really all came flooding back. But I'm trying to stay level headed. Regardless, to try to keep it from sending me over the edge, I slid it away from mine and haphazardly threw a notebook nearby on top of it to block it from view. I went out to my balcony and lit a cigarette. What I had initially thought was going to be the end to the night.
Leaning on the railing, I let the nicotine calm me back down. Across the street I noticed house lights here and there shutting off, other folks calling it a night too as the holiday came to an end. As I finished and put it out in the, admittedly overly full ashtray, I noticed the mark on the small rug I placed out there from the coffee Macy spilled. I got it right after the box incident to cover the scratches from that in the concrete. The stain was right where the scratches would've been and I had a strange thought. I whipped out my phone and fumbled to turn the flashlight on. Once it was, I lifted the rug and shined the concrete underneath. The scratches were completely gone as if they, or even the box, had never been there.
As I stared in confusion, I got a text message. My heart skipped a beat and I dropped both the rug and my phone, luckily not losing it off the balcony. I snapped myself back to reality and picked it back up to check. It was Macy. After about a full minute of contemplation, I opened it.
"Hey I saw you get home," she had written. How? How on earth did she see me get home? I'm hyper vigilant for anyone, anyone at all I can see whenever coming or going given the circumstances, and I definitely didn't see her anywhere. The more rational part of my brain reminded me she came to my apartment, I hadn't any idea which one she lived in so maybe her window faced the parking lot and she had seen me that way. Even that though, what are the chances she would see me get back right when I did and text so soon after unless she had been watching for me already? I didn't know if that was flattering or another thing I should be worried about. On top of that, her last other text I could still see right above this one made me more sure that something was going on.
I immediately went into investigation mode. "Oh hey, yea lol I've been out with a friend all day," I replied. My whole goal now was to try to seem casual and see if I could pull something out of her to figure out just what the hell is happening here. I wasn't going to ask her about the last text, I certainly wasn't going to bring up the screaming or knocking. I had to navigate this carefully.
"Oh fun! How was it?" This is getting even stranger, she seemed more casual than I was actively trying to be. Granted I barely knew this girl, this didn't sound like the one I met. But I'm not stopping here.
"It was fun yea, I'm a bit exhausted haha," I tried not to leave it open for her to actually have a reason to come over. I was actually tired, but now I wanted answers and wasn't looking to have anymore weird incidences right now. Despite not wanting any though, I'm sure you can tell I wouldn't be writing this if they didn't happen.
"Good!" another out of character response.
As chill as possible, I replied, "So how was your day? Anything interesting?" Doing my best to pry at some sort of evidence or answers or something. I regret sending it now, what she said next just made me more worried. I should've just ignored my phone and went to bed.
"Yea I met a really nice guy in the building, he's cool we should all hang out sometime" I know exactly who she's talking about, I'm sure you know exactly who she's talking about. Now I couldn't stop myself.
"Did he give you anything?" Dammit. I hit send before thinking. That was definitely too much and too abrupt. At best I sound like a weirdo or like I was about to get jealous. At worse I was gonna get the answer I didn't want. The answer I expected as badly as I didn't want to.
"Lol yea actually how'd you know? He left a box with a really nice note sometime after he left. It's supposed to be a gift, but I don't really get it." I should've ended the conversation right there and just come up with a reason in the morning why. But I felt like the puzzle pieces were close to fitting together. Unfortunately, I was right.
I felt I was getting obsessed. "Really? So you opened it?"
"Yea there was like an old jewelry box inside, I think he forgot the key though, it's locked" I knew what would open it. I slowly looked to the spot on the counter where the key was. Still covered by the notebook. I went over to it and placed my hand on the notebook. When I did though I was jump scared again by the slam of a door. Rather, not a door slamming shut but the way it sounds when someone opens it hard and it bangs into the wall. Clearly coming from the hallway. Then another, then another. I heard this over and over again getting further and further away until finally it stopped. I wish I never walked out to investigate but like I said, I was obsessed now and just had to know. I cautiously, quietly as possible, opened my door and peered out.
Every single door down to the opposite end of the hall was wide open. I'd like to say I was relieved, finally seeing some sign of the other apartments being occupied. But because every one, at least that I could see, was pitch black inside, it still wasn't evidence per se. Until I started seeing hands.
Out of the next door apartment, almost coyly, someone's hand slowly stuck out and started waving. I started walking towards it. Looking back now it was like I was in a trance. I just had to see. I had to see what was in the apartment. As soon as I got close enough to actually try to see inside proper, the hand yanked back inside and the door slammed back shut, immediately followed by a quick series of angry knocks from the other side of the door. Then I noticed another hand coming out of the next apartment. Waving.
Picking up my pace now, I walked towards this apartment door. But the same thing happened before I got close enough. The door slammed shut and a quick set of the same aggressive knocks followed. This process repeated over and over the same way all the way down the hall as I kept walking faster until I was jogging. I had to see inside one of these apartments. But every time. Hand. Wave. Slam. Knocks.
That happened until I reached the end of the hall, where noticeably, no hand came out of the last apartment. I stopped in my tracks. Anxiously I started towards this last door. It was pitch black like the rest, but in the doorway, someone was standing there. It was Macy.
She was facing into the apartment away from me and she seemed off. Not the way she was acting, I mean obviously pulling a Blair Witch in the doorway was off, don't get me wrong. I mean there was something off about the way she looked. She looked taller...her hands looked bigger...her shoulders looked broader. "M-Macy?" I tried to get her attention. She slowly turned around and I noticed her looked different too. Bigger like the rest of the things that seemed off about her now, but I recognized those eyes. I couldn't forget those eyes if I wanted to. Ever since I saw them in the parking lot. Ever since I saw them from balcony. And there they were again, just staring again.
Macy began a slow smile. Wider and wider until she looked even stranger than she already did. I started backing away. She stepped out and turned. Now standing still in the hallway with the same expression and strange features. She didn't follow me but I didn't dare take my eyes away off her until I got to the other end of the hall and to my apartment. Still looking at her standing like a statue, I patted around my door until I found the handle. Slipping inside as quick as possible, I locked the door. The screaming started again.
I could tell where it was coming from exactly now though. It was coming from down the hall where I left Macy. And it was getting closer. Slowly but surely making its way to my end of the hall. I grabbed my gun, terrified at what might come next. Louder and louder, I heard this blood curdling scream until it was right outside my door. I raised my gun, but just as suddenly as it started, it completely stopped. Next thing I heard was my phone vibrate. Still watching for what might happen at the door, I checked my phone. It was Macy...
"Wanna open it?"
I didn't even think about texting her back. I stayed up for a long long time the rest of the night, but that text seemed to top off the night's events as nothing else happened. The day at the lake and then everything I had just been through had me wiped out and eventually I couldn't stay awake. I the time I was awake I was too freaked to write any update, so that's what I'm doing now while the memory is still fresh. I ended up taking a double and letting my evening shift run into a night shift. Hopefully, I'll get some ideas on what to do next after I spend a night or two away from that place.

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I've been thinking about this a lot, how can a Music/song be considered objectively Good? So I've gathered a few points to enlighten this subject.
Firstly, music like most things can be quantifiable and arranged. By definition, music is the art of composing different sounds to form a melody or an harmony so that should be the basis of what would be a good song, in other words a nicely arranged group of sounds. Now, there are different rules when arranging these sounds and musicians throughout history have developed whole lot of theories about it that are still used today to actually make songs. With different instruments we should be able to make sounds that represents something like a feeling or an image and that's what makes them so meaningful. Like the song on the beach in the movie "her" for example, it was made in a way that we feel the warmth and love the two characters are experiencing or in exit music by Radiohead where the music crescendo into that incredible peak where whe know it's the culminant point of Romeo and Juliet's story. Well obviously it isn't only about following rules and making textbook music it's also about mixing and breaking rules.
Secondly, my all time favorite about creating art especially music is experimenting. Obviously genres where created so we can locate ourselves in this big musical iceberg but they can also be used in a way to create revolutionary sounds by mixing them and getting creative with them. I know it can be a double-edged weapon and it can turn into a disastrous load of "what the f am i hearing" but sticking to only one rule could get boring overtime and we constantly need evolution in our world. Most of the music we know today would never existed if it wasn't for the pioneers that dared to experiment. I think one of the biggest example of that is Hip Hop, a pillar of modern music right now that wouldn't exist if it weren't for DJs that looped drums and old music samples and the MCs that had the idea to rhyme over a beat. Now that we're talking culture, what makes a Music good is also it's cultural value, right?
So thirdly, the quality of the music could be mirrored in it's values for us the listeners as an individual and as a community. Music as an art has the burden of carrying years and years of history and culture so it has a considerable impact on our society as a whole. Music weights heavy on how we perceive things and helps us at better understanding ourselves and each other, it serves as a catalyst whether it's for the artists or the listeners. Music can bring the wind of revolution or the sweet taste of nostalgia, it could represent a whole movement or just one tortured soul in a bedroom. Professor John Keating once said "Poetry, Beauty and Romance... These are what we stay alive for" and for me Music is the embodiment of that and should be truthful to that in order to be considered good.
To wrap it up, music must then be well arranged while fused with different inspirations and should represent something powerful to be considered objectively Good. However we can't ignore the subjectivity variable because we all have our own tastes, vulnerability and cultural belonging to judge music.

PLAYBOY Interview With Conan O'Brien Interview by Kevin Cook For Playboy Magazine February 1998
A candid conversation with the preppie prince of "Late Night" about his rocky start, his show's secret one-day cancellation and how David Letterman saved the day.
He was polite. He was funny. He gave us a communicable disease.
At 34 Conan O'Brien is hotter than the fever he was running when we met in his private domain above the "Late Night" sound stage. A gangly freckle-faced ex-high school geek he is "one of TV's hottest properties" according to "People" magazine. The host of "Late Night With Conan O'Brien" has become his generation's king of comedy.
Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown. Congested too, but O'Brien has far more to worry about than his head cold. A perfectionist who broods over one bad minute in an otherwise perfect hour of TV, he worries he might be anhedonic, "I have trouble with success," he says, "I was raised to believe that if something good happens something bad is coming." Sure things look good now "Rolling Stone" calls "Late Night" "the hottest comedy show on TV." Ratings are better than ever, particularly among 18- to 34-year-olds, the viewers advertisers crave.
But O'Brien only works harder. Despite his illness he taped two shows in 26 hours on three hours' sleep. He smoothly interviewed Elton John then burst into coughing fits during commercials. Later in his crammed corner office overlooking Manhattan traffic Conan the Cool gulped Dayquil gel caps. He coughed spewing microbes.
"Sorry, sorry," he said. Of course O'Brien can't complain. He came seriously close to falling to being banished behind the scenes as just another failed talk show host.
At his first "Late Night" press conference he corrected a reporter who called him a relative unknown, "Sir I am a complete unknown," he said. That line got a laugh, but soon O'Brien looked doomed. His September 13, 1993 debut began with O'Brien in his dressing room preparing to hang himself only to be interrupted by the start of his show. Before long his career was hanging by a thread. Ratings were terrible. Critics hated the show. Tom Shales of "The Washington Post" called it as "lifeless and messy as roadkill." Shales said O'Brien should quit.
Network officials held urgent meetings discussing the Conan O'Brien debacle. Should they fire him? How should they explain their mistake?
In the end of course he turned it around. The network hung with him long enough for the ratings to improve and the host of the cooler-than-ever "Late Night" now defines comedy's cutting edge just as Letterman did ten years ago.
Even Shales loves "Late Night" these days. He calls O'Brien's turnaround "one of the most amazing transformations in television history."
O'Brien was born on April 18, 1963 in Brookline, Massachusetts. His father, a doctor, is a professor at Harvard Medical School. His mother, a lawyer, is a partner at an elite Boston Law firm. Conan, the third of six children became a lector at church and a misfit at school. Tall and goofy, bedeviled with acne, he tried to impress girls with jokes. That plan usually bombed, but O'Brien eventually found his niche at Harvard where he won the presidency of the "Harvard Lampoon" in 1983 and again in 1984 - the first two-time "Lampoon" president since humorist Robert Benchley held the honor 85 years ago.
After graduating magna cum laude with a double major in literature and American history he turned pro. Writing for HBO's "Not Necessarily The News." O'Brien was earning $100,000 a year before his 24th birthday. But writing was never enough.
He honed his performance skills with the Groundlings, a Los Angeles improv group. There he worked with his onetime girlfriend Lisa Kudrow, now starring on "Friends." But Conan was not such a standout. In 1988 he landed a job at "Saturday Night Live" - but as a writer, not as on-air talent. In almost four years on the show O'Brien made only fleeting appearances, usually as a crowd member or security guard. His writing was more memorable. He wrote (or co-wrote) Tom hanks' "Mr Short-Term Memory" skits as well as the "pump you up" infosatire of Hanz and Franz and the nude beach sketch in which Matthew Broderick and "SNL" members played nudists admiring one another's penises. With dozens of mentions of the word that hit was the most penis-heavy moment in TV history. It helped O'Brien win an Emmy for comedy writing.
In 1991 he quit "SNL" and moved on to "The Simpsons" where he worked for two years. His urge to perform came out in wall-bouncing antics in writers' meetings. "Conan makes you fall out of your chair" said "Simpsons" creator Matt Groening. O'Brien's yen to act out was so strong that he spurned Fox's reported seven-figure offer to continue as a writer. He was driving for the spotlight.
By then David Letterman had announced he was turning shin - leaving NBC taking his ton-rated act to CBS. Suddenly NBC was up a creek without a host. The network turned to Lorne Michaels, O'Brien's "Saturday Night Live" boss. Michaels enlisted Conan's help in the host search planning to use him in a behind-the-scenes job. But when Garry Shandling, Dana Carvey and almost every other star turned down the chore of following Letterman, Michaels finally listened to Conan's crazy suggestion, "Let me do it!" Michaels persuaded the network to entrust it's 12:30 slot which Letterman had turned into a gold mine to an untested wiseass from Harvard.
O'Brien was working on one of his last "Simpsons" episodes when he got the news. He turned "paler than usual," Groening recalled. The Conan moseyed back to where the other writers were working, "I'll come back with the Homer Simspon joke later. I have to go replace Letterman," he said.
NBC executives now get credit for their foresight during those dark days of 1993 and 1994. They snared the axe and now reap the multimillion-dollar spoils of that decision. In fact, the story is not so simple. We sent Contributing Editor Kevin Cook to unravel the tale of O'Brien's survival, which he tells here for the first time. Cook reports:
"His office is chock-full of significa. There's a three-foot plastic pickle the Letterman staff left behind in 1993 - perhaps to suggest what a predicament he was in. There's a copy of Jack Paar's 'I Kid You Not' and a coffee-table book called 'Saturday Night Live: The First 20 Years.' His bulletin board features letters from fans such as John Watters and Bob Dole and an 8" x 10" glossy of Andy Richter with the inscription: "To Conan - Your bitter jealousy warms my black heart. Love and Kisses Andy."
"Of course it's all for show. From the photos of kitch icons Adam West and Robert Stack to the framed Stan Laurel autograph, from the deathbed painting of Abraham Lincoln, to the ironic star taped to Conan's door - they're all clever signals that tell a visitor how to view the star. Lincoln was his collegiate preoccupation: stardom is his occupation. Somewhere between the two I hoped to find the real O'Brien.
"As a Playboy reader he wanted to give me a better-than-average interview. I wanted something more - a definitive look at the guy who may end up being the Johnny Carson of his generation."
"Here's hoping we succeeded. If not I carried his germs 3000 miles and infected dozens of Californians for no good reason.
O'Brien: Yes, this is how to do a Playboy Interview -- completely tanked on cold medicine. I'll pick it up and read, "Yes, I'm gay."
Playboy: We could talk another time. O'Brien: (coughing) No, it's OK. I memorized Dennis Rodman's answers. Can I use them?
Playboy: You sound really sick. Do you ever take a day off? O'Brien: No. The age of talk show hosts taking days off is over. Johnny Carson could go to Africa when he was the only game in town -- "See you in two weeks!" But nobody does that now. I will give you a million dollars on the first day Jay takes off for illness.
Playboy: Do you ever slow down and enjoy your success? O'Brien: If anything, the pace is picking up. Restaurateurs insist on giving me a table even if I'm only passing by, so I'm eating nine meals a night. Women stop me on the street and hand me their phone numbers.
Playboy: So you have groupies? O'Brien: Oh yes. And other fans. Drifters. Prisoners. Insomniacs. Cab Drivers, who must watch a lot of late night TV, seem to love me lately. They keep saying, "You will not pay, you will not pay, you make me happy!"
Playboy: How happy did your new contract make you? O'Brien: Terrified. The network said, "We're all set for five years." I said, "Shut up, shut up! I can't think that far ahead." Tonight, for instance, I do my jokes, then interview Elton John and Tim Meadows. We finished taping about 6:30. By 6:45 my memory was erased and my only thought was, Tomorrow: John Tesh. And I started to obsess about John Tesh. Sad, don't you think?
Playboy: Not too sad. You got off to a rocky start but now you're so hot that People magazine recently said, "that was then, this is wow." O'Brien: I try not to pay much attention. Since I ignored the critics who said I should shoot myself in the head with a German Luger, it would be cheating to tear out nice reviews now and rub them all over my body, giggling. Though I have thought about it.
Playboy: Tell us about your trademark gag. You interview a photo of Bill Clinton or some other celeb, and a pair of superimposed lips provide outrageous answers. O'Brien: We call it the Clutch Cargo bit, after that terrible old cartoon series. They saved money on animation by superimposing real lips on the cartoons. I wanted to do topical jokes in a cartoony way -- not just Conan doing quips at a desk. TV is visual; I want things to look funny. But we're not Saturday Night Live; we couldn't spend $100,000 on it. Hence, the cheap, cheesy lips, You'd be surprised how many people we fool.
Playboy: Viewers believe that's really the president yelling, "Yee-haw! Who's got a joint?" O'Brien: It's strange. You may know intellectually that Clinton doesn't talk like Foghorn Leghorn. Ninety-eight percent of your brain knows the president wouldn't say, "Whoa Conan get a load of that girl!" But there are a few brain cells that aren't sure. When Bob Dole was running for president we had him doing a past-life regression: "My cave, get away." And then back further, "Must form flippers to crawl on to rocky soil," he says. There may be people out there who believe that Bob Dole was the first amphibian.
Playboy: Do you ever go too far? O'Brien: The fun is in going too far. It's a nice device because you get Bill Clinton to do the nastiest Bill Clinton jokes. We'll have Clinton making fart noises while I say "Sir! Please!"
Playboy: Are you enjoying your job now, with your new success? O'Brien: Well, there are surprises. I hate surprises. Like most comics, I'm a control freak. But I am learning that the show works best when things are out of control. Tonight I ask Elton John if he likes being neighbors with Joan Collins. He says he isn't neighbors with Joan Collins. He lives next door to Tina Turner. So I panic -- huge mistake! But Elton saves the day. "Joan Collins, Tina Turner, it doesn't matter. Either way I could borrow a wig," he says. Huge laugh, all because I fucked up. Later he surprised me by blurting out that he's hung like a horse. The camera cuts to me shaking my head: That crazy Elton. What can I do? Of course, I'm delighted that he went too far.
Playboy: That "What can I do?" look resembles a classic take of Jack Benny's. O'Brien: There's an old saying in literature: "Good poets borrow; great poets steal." I think T.S. Eliot stole it from Ezra Pound. Comics steal, too. Constantly. When I watched Johnny Carson, I noticed that he got a few takes from Benny and Bob Hope. When a comedy writer told me how much Woody Allen had borrowed from Hope, I thought, What? They're nothing alike. Then I went back and watched Son of Paleface, and there's Hope, the nervous city guy backing up on his heels, wringing his hands and saying, "Sorry, I'll just be moving along." Now look at early Woody Allen. You see big authority figures and Woody nervously saying, "Look, I'll just be on my way." Of course Woody made it his own, but he must have watched and loved Bob Hope.
Playboy: Who are your role models? O'Brien: Carson. Woody Allen. SCTV. Peter Sellers. When Peter Sellers died I felt such a loss, thinking, There won't be anymore of that. There's some Steve Martin in my false bravado with female guests: "Why, hel-lo there!" And I won't deny having some Letterman in my bones.
Playboy: You were surprise as Letterman's successor. At first you seemed like the wrong choice. O'Brien: I didn't get ratings. That doesn't mean I didn't get laughs. Yes, I had a giant pompadour and I looked like a rockabilly freak. I was too excited, pushed too hard, and people said, "That guy isn't a polished performer." Fine! But it isn't my goal to be Joe Handsomehead cool, smooth talk show host. Late Night with Conan O'Brien is supposed to be a work in progress, and now that we've had some success there's a danger of our getting too polished and morphing into something smoothly professional. Which would suck.
Do you know why I wanted this show? Because Late Night with David Letterman played with the rules and it looked like fun. Here was a place where people did risky comedy every night for millions of people. We had to keep this thing alive. There should be a place on a big network where people are still messing around.
Playboy: How bad were your early days on the show? O'Brien: Bad. Dave left here under a cloud: his fans and the media were angry with NBC. Then NBC picks a guy with crazy hair and a weird name. And the world says, "Harvard? Those guys are assholes." I sincerely hope that the winter of December 1993, our first winter, was the worst time I will ever have. I'd go out to do the warm up and the back two rows of seats would be empty. That's hard to look at. I would tell a joke and then hear someone whisper, "Who's he? Where's Dave?"
Playboy: You had trouble getting guests. O'Brien: Bob Denver canceled on us. We shot a test show with Al Lewis of The Munsters. We did the clutch cargo thing with a photo of Herman Munster. Unfortunately, Fred Gwynne, who played Herman, had recently died, and Al Lewis kept pointing at the screen, saying, "You're dead! I was at your funeral!"
Playboy: For months you got worried notes from network executives. What did they say? O'Brien: They were worried. The fact that Lorne Michaels was involved bought me some time. But Lorne had turned to me at the start and said, "OK, Conan. What do you want to do?" Now television critics were after me and the network was starting to realize what a risk I was. Suggestions came fast and furious. I kept the note that said, "Why don't you just die?"
Playboy: Did they suggest ways to be funnier? O'Brien: They were more specific and tactical. The network gets very specific data. Say there was a drop in ratings between 12:44 and 12:48 when I was talking to Jon Bon Jovi. I'll be told, "Don't ever talk to him again" Or they'll want me to tease viewers into staying with us: "You should tease that -- say, 'We'll have nudity coming up next!'"
Playboy: You did come close to being cancelled. O'Brien: We were cancelled.
Playboy: Really? You have never admitted that. O'Brien: This is the first time I've talked about it. When I had been on for about a year, there was a meeting at the network. They decided to cancel my show. They said, "It's cancelled." Next day they realized they had nothing to put in the 12:30 slot, so we got a reprieve.
Playboy: Were you worried sick? O'Brien: I went into denial. I tried hard not to think, Yes, I'm bad on the air and my show has none of the things a TV show needs to survive. We had no ratings. No critics in our corner. Advertisers didn't like us. Affiliates wanted to drop us. Sometimes I'd meet a programming director from a local station where we had no rating at all. The guy would show me a printout with no number for Late Night's rating, just a hash mark or pound sign. I didn't dare think about that when I went out to do the show.
Playboy: Are you defending denial? O'Brien: How else does anyone get through a terrible experience? The odds were against me. Rationally, I didn't have much chance. Denial was my only friend. When I look back on the first year, it's like a scene from an old war movie: Ordinary guy gets thrown into combat, somehow beats impossible odds, staggers to safety. His buddy say, "You could have been killed!" The guy stops and thinks. "Could have been killed?" he says. His eyes cross and he faints.
Playboy: How did you dodge the bullet? O'Brien: There were people at NBC who stood up for me. I will always be indebted to Don Ohlmeyer, who stuck to his guns. Don said, "We chose this guy. We should stick with him unless we get a better plan." He was brutally honest. He came to me and said, "Give me about a 15 percent bump in the ratings and you'll stay on the air. If not, we're going to move on."
Playboy: Ohlmeyer started his career in the sports division. O'Brien: Exactly, his take was, "You're on our team." Of course, it wasn't exactly rational of Don to hope I'd be 15 percent funnier. It was like telling a farmer, "It better rain this week or we'll take your farm away."
Playboy: What did you say to Ohlmeyer? O'Brien: There wasn't time. I had to go out and do a monologue. But I will always be indebted to Don because he told me the truth. Wait a minute -- you have tricked me into talking lovingly about an NBC executive. Let me say that there were others who were beneath contempt -- executives who wouldn't know a good show if it swam up their asses and lit a campfire.
Playboy: Finally the ratings went your way. Hard work rewarded? O'Brien: Well, I also paid off the Nielsen people. That was $140,000 well spent.
Playboy: Ohlmeyer plus bribery saved you? O'Brien: There was something else. Just when everyone was kicking the crap out of the show, Letterman defended me.
Playboy: Letterman had signed off on NBC saying, "I don't really know Conan O'Brien, but I heard he killed someone." O'Brien: Then I pick up the paper and he's saying he thinks I am going to make it. "They do some interesting, innovative stuff over there," he says. "I think Conan will prevail." And then he came on as a guest. Remember, this was when we were at our nadir. There was no Machiavellian reason for David Letterman, who at the time was the biggest thing in show business, to be on my show.
Playboy: Why did he do it? O'Brien: I'm still not sure. Maybe out of a sense of honor. Fair play. And it woke me up. It made me think. Hey, we have a real fucking television show here.
Of six or seven pivotal points in my short history here, that was the first and maybe the biggest. I wouldn't be sitting here -- I probably wouldn't even exist today -- if he hadn't done our show.
Playboy: The Late Night wars were hardly noted for friendly gestures. O'Brien: How little you understand. Jay, Dave and I pal around all the time. We often ride a bicycle built for three up to the country. "Nice job with Fran Drescher!" "Thanks, pal. You weren't so bad with John Tesh." We sleep in triple-decker bunk beds and snore in unison like the Three Stooges.
Playboy: You talk more about Letterman than your NBC teammate Leno. O'Brien: I hate the "Leno or Letterman, who's better?" question. I can tell you that Jay has been great to me. He calls me occasionally.
Playboy: To say what? O'Brien: (Doing Leno's voice) "Hey, liked that bit you did last night." Or he'll say he saw we got a good rating. I call him at work, too. It can be a strange conversation because we're so different. Jay, for instance, really loves cars. He's got antique cars with kerosene lanterns, cars that run on peat moss. He'll be telling me about some classic car he has, made entirely of brass and leather, and I'll say, "Yeah, man, I got the Taurus with the vinyl." One thing we have in common is bad guests. There are certain actors, celebrities with nothing to say, who move through the talk show world wreaking havoc. They lay waste to Dave's town and Jay's town, then head my way.
Playboy: You must be getting some good guests. Your ratings have shown a marked improvement. O'Brien: Remember, when you're on at 12:30 the Nielsens are based on 80 people. My ratings drop if one person has a head cold and goes to bed early.
Playboy: Actually, you're seen by about 3 million people a night. Your ratings would be even higher if college dorms weren't excluded from the Nielsens. How many points does that cost you? O'Brien: I told you I'm an idiot. Now I have to do math too?
Playboy: Do you still get suggestions from NBC executives? O'Brien: Not as many. The number of notes you get is inversely proportional to your ratings.
Playboy: What keeps you motivated? O'Brien: Superstition. We have a stagehand, Bobby Bowman, who holds up the curtain when I run out for the monologue. He is the last person I see before the show starts, and I have to make him laugh before I go out. It started with mild jabs: "Bobby, you're drunk again." Bobby laughs, "Heehee."" Then it was, "Still having trouble with the wife, Bobby?" But after hundreds of shows, you find yourself running out of lines. It's gotten to where I do crass things at the last second. I'll put his hand on my ass and yell, "You fucking pervert!" Or drop to my knees and say, "Come on, Bobby, I'll give you a blow job!"
"Ha-ha. Conan, you're crazy," he says. But even that stuff wears off. Soon, I'll be making the writers work late to give me new jokes for Bobby.
Playboy: Did you plan to be a talk show host or did you fall into the job? O'Brien: I was an Irish Catholic kid from St. Ignatius parish in Brookline, outside of Boston. And that meant: Don't call attention to yourself. Don't ask for too much when the pie comes around. Don't get a girl pregnant and fuck up your life.
Playboy: Were you an alter boy? O'Brien: I wanted to be an alter boy, but the priest at St. Ignatius said, "No, no. You're good on your feet, kid," and made me a lector. A scripture reader at Mass. He was the one who spotted my talent.
Playboy: What did you think of sex in those days? O'Brien: I was sexually repressed. At 16 I still thought human reproduction was by mitosis.
Playboy: How did you get over your sexual repression? O'Brien: Who says I got over it? My leg has been jiggling this whole time.
Playboy: What were you like in high school? O'Brien: Like a crane galumphing down the hall. A crane with weird hair, bad skin and Clearasil. Big enough for basketball but lousy at it. My older brothers were better. I would compensate by running around the court doing comedy, saying, "Look out, this player has a drug addiction. He's incredibly egotistical."
I was an asshole at home, too. My little brother Justin loved playing cops and robbers, but I kept tying him up with bureaucratic bullshit. When he'd catch me, I'd say, "I get to call my lawyer." Then it was, "OK, Justin, we're at trial and you've been charged with illegal arrest. Fill out these forms in triplicate." Justin was eight; he hated all the lawsuits and countersuits. He just cried.
Playboy: Were you a class clown? O'Brien: Never. I was never someone who walked into a room full of strangers and started telling jokes. You had to get to know me before I could make you laugh. The same thing happened with Late Night. I needed to get the right rhythm with Andy and Max and the audience.
Playboy: So how did you finally learn about sex? O'Brien: My parents gave me a book, but it was useless. At the crucial moment, all it showed was a man and a woman with the bed covers pulled up to their chins. I tried to find out more from friends, but it didn't help. One childhood friend told me it was like parking a car in a garage. I kept worrying about poisonous fumes. What if the fumes build up? Should you shut off the engine?
Playboy: For all your talk about being repressed, you can be rowdy on the air. O'Brien: The show is my escape valve. When I tear off my shirt and gyrate my pelvis like Robert Plant, feigning orgasm into the microphone, that shows how repressed I am -- a guy who wants to push his sex at the lens but can only do it as a joke.
Playboy: Aren't you tempted to live it up? O'Brien: I always imagined that if I were a TV star I would live the way I pictured Johnny Carson living. Carousing, stepping out of a limo wearing a velvet ascot with a model on my arm. Now that I have the TV show, I drive up to Connecticut on the weekends and tool around in my car. I could probably join a free-sex cult, smoke crack between orgies and drive sports cars into swimming pools, and my Catholic guilt would still be there, throbbing like a toothache. Be careful. If something good happens, something bad is on the way.
Playboy: Yet you don't mind licking the supermodels. O'Brien: At one point a few of them lived in my building, women who are so beautiful they almost look weird, like aliens. To me, a woman who has a certain approachable amount of beauty becomes almost funny. It's the same with male supermodels. They look like big puppets. So while I admire their beauty I probably won't be "romantically linked" with a model. I'd catch my reflection in a ballroom mirror and break up laughing.
Playboy: The horny Roy Orbison growl you use on gorgeous guests sounds real enough -- O'Brien: Oh, I've been doing that shit since high school. It just never worked before.
Playboy: Your father is a doctor, your mother an attorney. What do they think of their son the comedian? O'Brien: My dad was the one who told me denial was a virtue. "Denial is how people get through horrible things," he said. He also cut out a newspaper article in which I said I was making money off something for which I should probably be treated. So true, he thought. But when I got an Emmy for helping write Saturday Night Live, my parents put it on the mantel next to the crucifix. Here's Jesus looking over, saying, "Wow, I saved mankind from sin, but I wish I had an Emmy."
Playboy: Ever been in therapy? O'Brien: Yes. I don't trust it. I have told therapists that I don't particularly want to feel good. "Repression and fear, that's my fuel." But the therapists said that I had nothing to worry about. "Don't worry Conan you will always be plenty fucked up."
Playboy: When a female guest comes out, how do you know whether to shake her hand or kiss her? Is that rehearsed O'Brien: No, and it's awkward. If you go to shake her hand and her head starts coming right at you, you have to change strategy fast. I have thought about using the show to make women kiss me, but that would probably creep out the people at home. I decided not to kiss Elton John.
Playboy: Do you get all fired up if Cindy Crawford or Rebecca Romijn does the show? O'Brien: I like making women laugh. Always have, ever since I discovered you can get girls' attention by acting like an ass. That's one of the joys of the show -- I'm working my eyebrows and going grrr and she's laughing, the audience is laughing. It's all a big put-on and I'm thinking. This is great. Here is a beautiful woman who has no choice but to put up with this shit.
But it's not always put on. Sometimes they flirt back. Sometimes there's a bit of chemistry. That happened with Jennifer Connelly of The Rocketeer.
Playboy: One guest, Jill Hennessy, took off her pants for you. Then you removed yours. Even Penn and Teller took off their pants. O'Brien: Something comes over me. It happened with Rebecca Romijn -- I was practically climbing her. Those are the times when Andy and the audience seem to disappear and it's just me and this lovely woman sitting there flirting. I keep expecting a waiter to say, "More wine, Monsieur?"
Playboy: Would you lick the wine bottle? O'Brien: It's true, there's a lot of licking on the show. I have licked guests. I have licked Andy. Comedy professionals will read this and say, "Great work, Conan. Impressive." But I have learned that if you lick a guest, people laugh. If I pick this shoe off the floor, examine it, Hmmm, and then lick it, people laugh. I learned this lesson on The Simpsons, where I was the writer who was forever trying to entertain the other writers. I still try desperately to make our writers laugh, which is probably a sign of sickness since they work for me now. Licking is one of those things that look funny.
Playboy: Johnny Carson never licked Ed McMahon. O'Brien: We are much more physical and more stupid than the old Tonight Show. Even in our offices before the show there's always some writer acting out a scene crashing his head through my door. A behind-the-scenes look at our show might frighten people.
Playboy: One night you showed a doctored photo of Craig T. Nelson having sex with Jerry Van Dyke. Did they complain about it? O'Brien: I haven't heard from them. Of course I'm blessed not to be a part of the celebrity pond. I have a television show in New York, an NBC outpost. I don't run with or even run into many Hollywood people.
Playboy: You also announced that Tori Spelling has a penis. O'Brien: I did not. Polly the Peacock said that.
Playboy: Another character you use to say the outrageous stuff. O'Brien: Polly is not popular with the network.
Playboy: You mock Fabio, too. O'Brien: If he sues me, it'll be the best thing that ever happened. A publicity bonanza: Courtroom sketches of Fabio with his man-boobs quivering, shaking his fist, and me shouting at him across the courtroom. I'm not afraid of Fabio. He knows where to find me. I'm saying it right here for the record: Fabio, let's get it on.
Playboy: Ever have a run-in with an angry celeb? O'Brien: I did a Kelsey Grammar joke a few years ago, something about his interesting lifestyle, then heard through the network that he was upset. He had appeared on my show and expected some support. At this point my intellect says, "Kelsey Grammar is a public figure. I was in the right." Then I saw him in an airport. Kelsey didn't see me at first: I could have kept walking. But there he was, eating a cruller in the airport lounge. I thought I should go over. I said hello and then said, "Kelsey, I'm sorry if I upset you." And he was glad. He looked relieved. He said, "Oh, that's OK." We both felt better.
....See my other post with the last third of the interview

You all feel influenced by mass movement on socials. You finally accept what has happened to a formerly beloved institution. You type out into the void to send your most recent thoughts on the current scandals. You fools. You allowed this to happen years ago. When you doordashed and got ripped off with a bowl of sour cream instead of your double meat, you said, “the workers are doing their best.” When the ghost kitchens couldn’t differentiate a quesadilla from a bag of chips, you said, “I’d like to see you do better.” You sat idly by, consuming exactly as the corporate overlords demanded, knowing you were getting ripped off, when stores were digital orders only long after the rest of the world reopened. You accepted the higher prices. You accepted the lower quality ingredients. You all paid for it with a smile on your face because “I LuV cHiPoTLe, cHiPotLe iS Liiiiyfffe.”
Now someone on tack tick made it cool to walk out? Your influential persona’s altered your consumption habits?
Brothers and sisters, I stood on the front lines well over two years ago, even posting my hatred in this subreddit, that our beloved bastion of burritos bigger than anything Riley Reid would dare put inside herself, fell into an unrecognizable wasteland of fasst cassual dining, emphasis on the ass, and I’m not talking about that delayed burning sensation you felt after hitting the porcelain the next day.
Don’t you come in here co-opting the plight of us front liners by recording these workers from your pedestal of self righteousness. Develop your own internal drum beat and think back to when you should have walked out two years ago in solidarity with the rest of us. It’s never too late to start doing that.
Walk out. Put your fucking phones down. Quit deriving your opinions, self worth, and behaviors from your palm operating system.
Hit chipotle where it matters by no longer going. Harassing the workers will do nothing but make corporate hate you even more. Welcome to your new beginning

Here’s my round up of Kroger Private Selection ice cream pint reviews over the last two months. I tried about nine new flavors besides Amaretto Cherry Cordial which I knew and liked and have bought in the tub a few times. And is in pint form!
There’s a $1.99 deal with coupon ending today 5/28 at Kroger locations which has been posted about. Don’t fret if you miss it; it does come around. I bought most of these pints on a BOGO deal at Kroger-owned Harris Teeter two weeks ago. Details:

Kroger Private Selection pints deal: regular $3.79/16 oz, current $3; with coupon $2 limit 5 until Tuesday, May 28th). Additional $5 off $30 coupon (delivery only; includes the quart tubs).

About this tier list:

In my personal opinion the ones listed under Excellent and Very Good can compete with premium mass market brand like Ben and Jerry’s, Haagen Dazs, and possibly even Graeters and Jeni’s. But likely the ice cream won’t be as dense or perhaps as complex.
The Good category for me are better than average. Perhaps they make excellent base ice creams or have interesting mix ins, but in either case aren’t a whole package.
The ones listed under Ok are less unique but still better than the blandest Tillamook (Mudslide you disappointed me!).
There’s no “Bad” category this round. I’ve disliked at least one (discontinued) Private Selection flavor in the past though (Amber Whiskey Cake?) for being too sweet.
Excellent: * ⁠Amaretto Cherry Cordial - maraschino Cherry and dark chocolate. Yum! (Also available in quart) * Black Raspberry Chocolate Chunk - black raspberry and dark chocolate (Also available in quart) * ⁠Maine Blueberry Belgian Waffle Cone - maple, blueberry variegate swirl and crunchy cone
Very good: * Tres Leches Cake (very generous cake mix ins; a little light on caramel taste which can be a good thing)
Very good (but niche): * Mexican Style Hot Chocolate (very flavorful chocolate; great for the daring who wants a lot of chocolate cinnamon taste. Not much marshmallow)
Good (base only ice cream) * ⁠Double Vanilla (mild but still present boozey vanilla extract alcohol taste; nice density) (Also available in quart) * Coffee (a milky coffee with a lightly roasted flavor)
Good (average base; interesting mix ins) * Pistachio and Honey (very mild pistachio base but grows in complexity with honey swirl and salted pistachio) * ⁠Chocolate Cheesecake (chocolate base not cheesecakey, but chocolate pie crust mix in flavor has good depth)
Ok: * ⁠Denali extreme moose tracks (average milk chocolate, good fudge swirl; swirl is a bit similar to Chocolate Cheesecake) (Also available in quart? Maybe a slightly different one)
Individual reviews: * Six flavor haul: Black Raspberry Chocolate Chunk, Maine Blueberry Belgian Waffle Cone, Mexican Style Hot Chocolate, Double Vanilla, Coffee, Chocolate Cheesecake * Pistachio & Honey, Denali Extreme Moose Tracks * Tres Leches Cake (this one has been compared to Jeni’s Gooey Butter Cake which I haven’t tried) * Amaretto Cherry Cordial (comparison to Ben and Jerry’s Cherry Garcia)
Would repurchase: Amaretto Cherry Cordial, Black Raspberry Chocolate Chunk, Maine Blueberry Belgian Waffle Cone, Tres Leches Cake, Double Vanilla.

Other recommendations:

• Tillamook - Marionberry Pie. Vanilla and Marionberry purée.
• Jeni’s - Brambleberry Crisp. More crispy oat pieces, denser ice cream. Less berry flavor.
• Ben and Jerry’s - Phish Food. More marshmallow.
• Ben and Jerry’s - Vanilla. Denser. Clean vanilla bean flavor.
• Blue Bell - Homemade Vanilla. Less dense. Stronger vanilla flavor (old-fashioned taste; less boozey)
• Ben and Jerry’s - Change is Brewing. More intense coffee flavor. Some mix ins.
• Perry’s - Bittersweet Symphony. Milk coffee and dark chocolate syrup.
• Giant Eagle (store brand) - Spumoni. Candy like pistachio, vanilla, cherry. A good trip.

Hi everyone so some background I F (30) and my Mother F (67) have not spoken for 15 months now. We have had a strained relationship for many years, as she doesn’t agree with many of my ‘life choices’. For example, as a child and teenager my Mother put all her energy into me becoming an actor. I’m talking hours of rehearsal until I cried, restricting my weight, as well as multiple lessons and masterclasses weekly. All extra curricular had to be drama or performing themed e.g. choir or joining the school shows and I was part of a pretty good drama school junior weekend school. I was pretty good and earned scholarships and lots of awards whilst performing. However, it came with a lot of restrictions. I couldn’t hang out with my friends or even do homework without her telling me to ‘stop wasting my time’, I was only good at one thing. Whenever I disobeyed she would be very cruel and let me know I’d never amount to anything. My parents divorced shortly after I turned 18. Quite simply, I think my Father had enough. The bullying and manipulation also extended to him and she would frequently tell him how ‘worthless’ and ‘ugly’ he was but that it was ok because he had her. At 19 I got into a pretty good university to study Drama at with a scholarship. Immediately upon arriving I knew it was a mistake. I hated the city, the course and at times the people and I sunk into a deep depression. At the end of first year I asked for a years break, which was granted and I moved in with my boyfriend who was studying in a different city. I never went back to study Drama and moved into education instead, which I cared deeply about and enjoyed both the training and the job. My Mother to this day has never ‘forgiven’ me for this. In my mid twenties I broke up with my boyfriend who had been cheating on me. My mother offered very little advice and support, telling me that I would not do better. I then very quickly became involved in an intense and abusive relationship. When I left came home to her afterwards bleeding, bruised and crying she ignored me and went on holiday with her boyfriend as she ‘didn’t have time to deal with my nonsense.’ She continued to tell me it was my fault for years after. I maintained a relationship with my mother over the next few years but every visit and communication would end up with her would end in an argument and we spoke less frequently. I tried to set boundaries and told her how much it hurt for her to speak so negatively about me and my life choices, but she would tell me she only had my best interests at heart. I have also gone low contact with her but she will just incessantly contact me. When I came out to her as dating a woman at 26 she lost her temper and screamed down the phone that what I was doing was horrible, selfish and how dare I post anything on social media, as her friends might see! Afterwards, I sobbed and didn’t hear from her for weeks. I was also very reluctant to tell the rest of the family about my relationship but I am happy to report that everyone was incredibly supportive and loving. When she did ring me up again, it was to try and convince me that my girlfriend was clearly having an affair with her male housemate. No, I’m not joking.
During the next two years, she frequently blew hot and cold with me, but would frequently pick arguments over small things or remind me ‘what a shame’ that I had ‘wasted’ my talent. She also frequently brought my younger brother J into arguments. J would berate me for not being ‘kind’ to our mother and would frequently tell me how awful I am by abandoning them. I always tried to speak to him compassionately as I understood he was just parroting back our mothers vile bullshit. For example, after a small argument when my partner and I were due to go and visit her, she sent me multiple messages telling me that I was not welcome and that she didn’t want to see me. I then cancelled the train tickets and went to see other family members instead. My Mother was livid and repeatedly told me how ‘no one could believe how heartless you are.’ Then, over Christmas two years ago my Mother made a comment to me about my brother. Apparently I was not supportive enough and she hung up before texting me to say that she ‘gets no support from me and we should just call our relationship quits for now.’ I messaged back telling her that was how you break up with someone as a teenager, not how you should talk to your own child. In January J started to relentlessly send me messages about the awful person I am and how I deserve to be alone, but that him and our mother will always love me. When I responded to see if he was ok, he accused me of being a bully and being kicked out of university due to bullying a fellow student. To this day, I still have no idea what he’s talking about. I did initially leave university due to my depression getting so bad I just wasn’t meeting deadlines, but returned two years later to do my final year. I spoke to my Mother who doubled down that she apparently had a letter from the university about my ‘bullying’. When I told her this simply wasn’t true she accused me of lying and told me to seek professional help. I then decided to go no contact with her. Since then she has sent me cards for every occasion, which are full of guilt tripping and several bizarre emails blaming me all kinds of things, including just existing and making her life ‘fraught and difficult’ or being ‘just like your father.’ As well as her being ‘stuck’ in a relationship with her boyfriend. Any relationship I have with the rest of my family she takes offence at, as apparently I need tell her.
Honestly, this just scratches the surface of the many many insane and hurtful things that have happened. AITA?

Chapter 4
Aria's heart hammered against her ribs as the cultists closed in, their blades thirsting for her blood. The avatar's crimson eyes bored into her, stripping away her defenses, her will, until she felt like a fly caught in the web of some abyssal spider.
But even as terror threatened to overwhelm her, Aria's gaze darted desperately around the chamber, seeking some means of escape. There! A narrow alcove, half-hidden behind a drape of moth-eaten velvet. If she could just reach it...
Summoning every shred of courage, Aria lunged forward, ducking beneath the grasping hands of the nearest cultist. She wove between the shadows, her cloak billowing behind her like the wings of a desperate bird. The cultists howled in outrage, their footsteps pounding after her, but Aria did not dare look back.
She flung herself into the alcove, pressing her back against the dank stone. The cultists raced past, their cries echoing in the vaulted chamber. Aria held her breath, not daring to move, hardly daring to think.
But then a hand clamped down on her shoulder, and Aria nearly screamed. She whirled, her heart in her throat... and found herself staring into a familiar face. Liam.
"What in the hells are you doing here?" Liam hissed, his eyes wild beneath his hood.
"I could ask you the same thing!" Aria shot back, her fear boiling over into anger. "Liam, this is madness. These people, this... this thing they worship... can't you see it's evil?"
Liam's gaze flickered, and for a moment, Aria glimpsed a profound terror in their depths. "You don't understand," he whispered. "The Crimson Abyss... Khor'zul... he sees into the very heart of you. He knows your darkest desires, your deepest shames. And he promises to fulfill them, to elevate you. All you have to do is give yourself to him, utterly."
Aria shook her head, horror and revulsion knotting in her gut. "Listen to yourself! This isn't you, Liam. You're not some... some thrall to a bloodthirsty god. You're my friend. And I'm going to get you out of here, away from these... these monsters."
But even as the words left her lips, Aria knew it was futile. The look in Liam's eyes, that fevered, fanatic light... it was the gaze of a man possessed, body and soul. The friend she had known, the bright, vital boy she had grown up with... he was gone, devoured by the insatiable hunger of the Crimson Abyss.
Liam's grip on her shoulder tightened, his nails biting into her flesh even through her cloak. "I can't let you leave," he said, his voice quavering. "You've seen too much. Khor'zul demands a price for your trespass. You must be... consecrated. Anointed in blood and shadow."
Aria wrenched away from him, bile rising in her throat. "No. I won't let you drag me into this nightmare. I'm leaving, Liam. And if there's any shred of sanity left in you, you'll come with me."
She turned to go, but Liam's hand shot out, seizing her wrist in an iron grip. "I can't let you—"
But his words choked off as Aria drove her elbow hard into his solar plexus. Liam doubled over, wheezing, his grip slackening. Aria did not hesitate. She bolted, plunging back into the main chamber—
And found herself face to face with the avatar of Khor'zul. The towering figure loomed over her, robes reeking of blood and shadows. Those crimson eyes flayed Aria to her very soul, and she felt her will, her very identity, beginning to unravel like a skein of mouldering yarn.
"Foolish girl," the avatar hissed. "Did you think you could escape the gaze of the Blood God? All who look upon his Crimson Majesty are forever marked, forever... his."
The avatar's skeletal hand shot out, faster than thought, faster than fear. Aria tried to twist away, but she was a minnow caught in the jaws of a shark. Those fingers, cold as the grave and strong as iron, closed around her throat, lifted her off her feet as easily as a child's doll...
Aria kicked and thrashed, black spots exploding across her vision. She clawed at the avatar's wrist, but it was like gouging at marble. Her lungs screamed for air, and she could feel her pulse slowing, her struggles weakening.
Through the closing tunnel of her darkening sight, Aria saw the obsidian blade rising in the avatar's other hand. The edge glinted like the blood-drenched fang of some eldritch beast. It hung suspended for a moment that stretched into eternity... and then, almost gently, the avatar lowered the tip to the skin of Aria's chest, directly over her thundering heart.
A shock of cold, so intense it burned, radiated from the point where the cursed blade touched her flesh. Aria convulsed, her mouth opening in a silent scream. The shadows seemed to coalesce around them, thickening into a cloying, syrupy miasma that poured into Aria's nostrils, her lungs, her pores.
"Now," the avatar intoned, their voice resonating from the very walls, the very foundations of the earth, "you shall be consecrated in the Blood of the Abyss. You shall bear the Mark of Khor'zul, and through the Curse of Crimson, you shall be irrevocably bound to Him."
The blade pressed forward, parting skin, drawing forth a beading of blood black in the guttering torchlight. And as the first drop welled and fell to anoint the stones, Aria felt something within her shatter, a wall crumbling, a floodgate opening to allow the eldritch tides of Khor'zul to come pouring in...
She was drowning, she was burning, she was being flensed and flayed and filled, the blood of the Crimson Abyss replacing her own, the tenebrous thoughts of the Blood God entwining with the fibers of her being. The Curse etched itself into her marrow, her mind, her soul, branding her irrevocably as Khor'zul's own.
When the avatar released her, Aria crumpled to the floor, shuddering, retching bile and shadows. She lifted her shaking hands and saw, to her uncomprehending horror, that her veins pulsed with a bloody, eldritch light. The Mark of the Maw burned on the skin over her heart, pulsing in time with the slowing thunder of her pulse.
"Rise, Aria Vorn, Chosen of the Crimson Abyss," the avatar commanded. "Rise and take your place among the faithful. For you belong now, body and soul, to Khor'zul... and His Hunger shall be sated."
And though every fiber of her being screamed in silent horror and negation, Aria felt her blood-soaked body rise, an awful sense of purpose, of dark exultation, flooding her hollowed mind and heart...
For she was Chosen, anointed and awash in the blood-tides of her God's glorious purpose.
And that purpose would drown the world.

So Paul Wesley said in a panel that he wouldn't do a reboot or a movie or anything and that he was done with playing that character.. and the comments were insane to me lol It was basically "That's what made you famous, how dare you?"
Like am I the only one who completely understands? The way that show done Stefan so dirty I wouldn't want to go back to it either. Paul's not stupid, he knows the writing took a major nose dive after season four. And people were then complainig that he was still doing conventions, so what? He can appreciate the show for what it was and interact with fans and not want to do it again lol
Not to mention my boy was suppose to be 17, like unless they wrote some alternate timeline/universe where Stefan's been living as human this whole time I don't think that's exactly feasible anymore haha

I got into Pokemon Trading Card collecting back in 2008, in the First Grade during the early Diamond and Pearl expansions were coming out. In that transitional period, when Gen 3 EX-era packs were relatively easy to access. I would collect until the start of the XY era when I slowly dialed back on my enjoyment of the franchise and even questioned if it was still cool to be in it. I'm back into it starting with Sun and Moon, then fully going crazy since Sword and Shield. But I do have a scenario I wonder how common it is for users here.
As a kid in the late 2000s and early 2010s, I had little to no clue how people did ordering online as I didn't have an account and I never dared to ask my parents for their bank cards. Doubled with no dealer near me at the time, selling Japanese packs and getting cards in Japanese was a difficult process. Now having a steady flow of money from my family, and understand how online shopping is a new normal aspect of buying not just this hobby but also everyday life. I realize the packs I always wanted from watching PokeTubers of yesteryear are no longer accessible or even affordable. I also experienced these more contemporary English sets and recent releases stuff like Sword and Shield: Evolving Skies, Eevee Heros, and even Sun and Moon: Tag Team.
Influencers like Logan Paul, have made this fandom wider but also more competitive. Sure, Pokemon cards have always been popular in elementary school. But most of us couldn't imagine some dude wearing a $5.2 Million Dollar card around his neck leading to people rushing to buy anything with the Pokemon card branding that stores had to put warnings and limits on how much they could sell to people.

Nothing special as far as I can tell, but a fun few hours of peeling apart packs for the first time since I was a kid. Definitely going to be getting more soon!
Sorry, photo isn't the greatest lol.
Let me know if any are worth grading and good. I don't know what I'm looking for haha.

Essence Of The Magus. (Nasuverse) • It's a beautiful multicolored liquid that, despite everything, keeps changing to new and innovative colors never seen before, it's very mysterious. • You have a natural body, this means that you are the pinnacle of what the human body has to offer in all its shapes and sizes, you are beautiful and as time goes by those traits will only improve, whether you want the strong beauty of muscles or the very delicacy and fragility of a lily, this will be inclined to your desires and requests, so you will undoubtedly be beautiful to your own preferences and desires, even affect the color of your hair or how your eyes will be, and all this without lowering the capabilities of the human body, with reflexes and senses superior to anyone else, your body is the pinnacle and is always improving to reach new heights, this will always be naturally so no one will suspect anything, everything is decided if you want to stay as you are or become the summit of the body of the human being. • You will always be seen in full elegance, maintaining unparalleled grace and balance, you could be associated with a machine before such a detailed display of pinpoint accuracy, you are graceful and gifted with an overwhelming presence and unmatched charisma, expect to have many admirers unless you voluntarily turn it off or mitigate it, and if you consciously use it to its full force don't expect there will be anyone with enough willpower to resist you, you are nobility in every concept of the word, maybe you will get some title like Lorelei Barthomeloi and her title of 'The Queen Of The Clock Tower' or 'The Queen' for short. • Furthermore, you have what would poetically be called 'The Will To Shatter The Stars'. There is no difficulty, no degree of opposition and no level of pain or suffering that can intimidate your intentions, once you make up your mind about something. You can do this all day long and never stop doing it, except by your own conscious choice. Forget mere 'maximum human' willpower, you are absolutely unbreakable. While remaining mentally flexible enough to not be a stubborn idiot, of course. • Your body can not be infected by any being, supernatural or not, you can not be controlled or damaged by both mental and spiritual means, your body is an immovable fortress, your mind to a library masterfully ordered and maintained, your soul is a perpetual sanctuary you can repeat as many times the change of body as Roa or do something with worms as Zouken and your soul will remain the same, you could say that it is a perfect soul for sorcery, beware, the third magic will be and will remain better by far, your soul is something that will remain the same in the face of the most extreme things, but it is not the true immortality that is the third magic, unless you dedicate your research skills to change that. • Mentally, you are able to modify and alter your mind, you can program your mind to react to whatever you want however you want, leaving mental triggers to move before they react is possible, molding it to create a disguise of some different personality is possible, you can even affect their feelings achieving a masterful mask, creating a state with a completely different personality and state of mind is easy, in case you are not sure how to mold your mind without changing you can leave safety countermeasures to go back to any previous state, if a certain thought or situation happens, you are a magician and as such, your masks to fool others are the best, if you use them wisely you could be in your best state to fight or go into a disguise that even Sherlock himself could not discover, this will not affect your will, and you cannot end up as a brain-dead fool by accident, unless that is your disguise. • A little advice, stay away from the eyes of Atlas, those alchemists will see the holy grail or the root itself, if they get to know what kind of body type you have, you will be a very wet dream for any of their researchers, they even have a motto that fits. “It's easy to get into Atlas, but impossible to get out.” • If I were you, I'd be careful with the gods, a body like yours would have them drooling or hating you, it's funny how you don't know which one is worse, it all depends on which gods notice you, god forbid, the Greeks, although they might not even come close because they're admiring you. • The reason for a mind like you have, is to hide the default personality you have as a magus, a cold being, without morals or ethics, who can do anything, this part of you will make the machines see you as the typical sentimental people, it doesn't take much to scare people in that state, people will wonder what the hell you are, what kind of being is hiding under that disguise of flesh you call skin, you can always change it if you want, although you can always hide it, your mind can never be taken advantage of by anyone other than you. • You can choose to have the potential to have true magic, you decide if you only want one or all five in total, you can decide if you want to reach them through research, that being the case you can get creative about how you carry out your research to play true magic, and, it can help you later, this is more of an option than anything else, if you want, you can appear as a user of the five true magics, although it is not said that there will be no questions of how the hell did that happen, you have a complete control of the true magics, and you know both its maximum capabilities and the smallest details about its operation. • The first magic “Denial Of Nothingness”: The first true magic, known as “The Denial Of Nothingness”, is related to the generation of an ether clusters, this includes the creation of matter and energy from nothing and the total destruction of matter and energy in nothing, the clusters of ether are conductors of magical energy. • The second magic “Kaleidoscope”: The second true magic, known as the ”Kaleidoscope” or the “Parallel Worlds Operation”, this includes traveling to alternate worlds, time travel, space-time manipulation and the ability to decide whether timelines are 'canon' or not, you can be creative how you use this, it's not too far-fetched to overlay different dimensions to play with the environment or use unlimited energy from all your universe versions to make a giant energy cannon, the only thing that What stops you is the creativity of how you could use it, you will have to be attentive because interacting with the dimensions and being able to observe everything that the multiverse can be, it can be a bit maddening, you will be protected in any way, but do not expect it to be a very happy, the dimensions have some that can make any person quite crazy, just look how his previous bearer was with the magical girls. • The third magic “Heaven's Feel”: The Third True Magic, known as the “Touch Of Heaven” or the “Manifestation Of The Soul”. This stops the inevitable dispersal of the soul once it no longer has an anchor in the world, and essentially causes it to transcend into a higher form of existence. It is a magic that realizes true immortality by turning the soul into a flat, high-dimensional being capable of interacting with the material world as a mental body without having to return to Akasha. The Sorcerer will acquire an unlimited source of magical energy because his soul becomes analogous to a perpetual motion machine, just like the previous ones, creativity will help you a lot, although with this who needs creativity when you are truly immortal, enjoy ~. • As a certain person said, I wish I had finished in the third, too bad it didn't happen • The fourth magic “White Ink”: The Fourth True Magic, known as the “White Ink”, in another universe the fourth magic is unknown, but how would you go about selecting a magic without knowing all your options? The fourth is based on the manifestation, manipulation, and alteration of concepts, you could alter the concept of water so that it burns instead of splashing (He, he, he) or you can very well create your own urban legend and add the concept 'real' to it, despite the tremendous power that you can still have to be careful, every being is sensitive, even reality itself, so press hard and don't expect to come out very well, you are powerful, but not invincible, keep that in mind, an example would be the previous user of the fourth magic that in an attempt to erase the concept of the fourth magic ended up being erased, it failed to eliminate the fourth magic, but the world ended up forgetting its capabilities due to certain parts that were erased. (Credit goes to AcausalTrillby at fanfiction.net for the inspiration with his story called White Ink) • The fifth magic “Blue Magic”: The Fifth True Magic, known as the “Blue Magic” allows free manipulation of energy/heat without worrying about the order imposed by the arrow of time of thermodynamics (represented by the Second Law), and, thus leading in particular to time manipulation, as opposed to relativistic time travel, Aoko Aosaki managed to affect space-time with this magic, and you can too if you put your mind to it, just be careful you don't want to extinguish life on earth, right? • “The Sixth True Magic”: Currently non-existent, a path to the Root will be granted. You can get close to him, but you must not touch him. By doing so, you will gain access to a new True Magic. It is speculated that the Sixth True Magic might be a magic that can bring happiness to everyone. This may or may not be the case. The magic has to be something unattainable by mundane or thaumaturgical means, as long as those criteria are met you can create the sixth magic, since you are creating something new and not reusing the five magics, this will be the one with which you connect the most, don't get me wrong, if you choose any of the other five, you will have no limits or problems when handling it, in fact you could take it to heights never seen before, only this being your creation, you will be more connected and you, and only you will be the person capable of using it, you are the creator of the sixth magic be proud. • Note something, the first, and fifth are similar in that a path to the root, an Akasha gate, originated and magic was obtained upon its arrival, while the second, third, and fourth were produced as a half to get to that place, however insignificant it may sound to some, this has its own weight in how your magic interacts with you, you may be able to touch or see the path to the Root, or you may try to recreate the means to reach the Root, be careful with that, people smarter than you tried, and they didn't end very well. • It can be said that magicians have become the adversaries of the planet, and by having magic, as redundant as it sounds, you have become a magician, something that the human mind would not normally be able to carry as a burden. Carrying such a power is the recklessness of changing the world, as such, from the moment you obtain true magic, you are destined to go through great things or most likely to affect the entire world, whether the change is good or bad, it will depend on what you decide. • Becoming a magician is something that must be thought carefully, it is a mantle, and it is raw power that will undoubtedly affect how you see the world or how the world sees you, you are entering forbidden territory for human hands, it is the land of gods, so unless you want to fight against gods or planets, think about it a bit before making your choice, and of course, you have some duties with humanity, it's not mandatory, but you can at least look at them once or twice, so they don't get killed or end up committing suicide. • You can grant one magic per person by creating five or six wizards who will be loyal to you until death, you can remove that magic whenever you want and however you want, although at least tell them what you are giving them, you do not want extradimensional accidents or extinction of life on earth, you can always decide to ignore this advice and have fun with the results. • You are by far the most talented and predisposed being to magic, your talent, ingenuity, and creativity have no comparison, your sense, and intuition regarding magecraft is undoubtedly superior, your mind has a library with all the magical knowledge of the entire verse from TYPE-MOON, whatever reality it is, it can be a bit overwhelming, but you get used to it, god forbid you can follow in the footsteps of Lorelei and focus on basic magecraft or some specific theme and develop it so much that you become the Bruce Lee of magic with 'Repeat a kick a thousand times', of course with your talent that can reach true magic levels very quickly, with any magic. • You can connect and adapt to any existing thaumaturgical foundation, yes, that includes the church, this would allow you to use any existing spell as long as you are connected to the foundation of that respective spell, be it sorcery, from Chinese philosophy magecraft, traditional Japanese magecraft and of course the one practiced by the clock tower, there is no foundation that you do not know and to which you cannot connect, if you do not like any, you can create your own thaumaturgical foundation with the rules and implications that you want and although technically it would be impossible, your own willpower is enough to maintain that foundation, if you decide to make that foundation your primary method of practicing magic, with your willpower involved, believe me, there will be no end to how strong you can become, and that applies to every foundation you connect to, you can revive a foundation on the verge of death to its best moment and take it to something much better. • Established and long-standing foundations will be more likely to connect and improve, they may not be as versatile, focusing only on their field as the church that is dedicated to something more spiritual, so be aware that you would spend a lot of time and resources originating a new foundation that connecting and empowering an existing one, each one has its cons and its pluses. • As a great magus you don't always have to depend on a large mound of magic circuits for everything, you can use the quantifiable energy of the Soul; the pseudo-spiritrons to design organisms or stronger objects, as the alchemists of Atlas do, you can also be like hackers and enter the network practicing their code-cast method, whenever you cannot or do not want to use your magic circuits you will find another way to practice sorcery, very well you can practice some method of “Walk and Breathe” to try to become a Xian, whatever method you choose you can take it to unimaginable heights without relying on your magic circuits, and with your talent you can do wonders. • It is true that you can work without magic circuits, you could very well become the best spell caster without even using them even once in your life, but it is better to use every resource you have and magic circuits are part of those resources, your circuits are special, unique in its kind, you will start with fifty magic circuits “Blue Bloods: Noble Magic Circuits”, being the best of the best, what differentiates it from the others is that your magic circuits are improved and shaped the more you use them, these circuits they will grow, improve and multiply, the very environment where you are will affect them and will affect their growth, they may become a “Magic Nucleus” or for some strange reason a “Magic Reactor”, there is also the possibility of becoming “Regression to the Age of Gods”. Allowing you to reproduce the existing mysteries before the age of man, it is certain that they will become what you want and that they will continually improve, in case they are damaged, or you do not have magic circuits they will begin to sprout or self-repair always looking for a way to advance, they may even be influenced by your origin. • As you have undoubtedly noticed, your magic circuits are not natural, this will not affect your form of sorcery in any negative way, who knows, you may reach some level higher than “Blue Bloods: Noble Magic Circuits” magic circuits are used to connect to the thaumaturgical foundation, you will see a rapid adaptation and improvement, the more you use them with a specific foundation, maybe even adopt some characteristics of said foundation. • You can create magic circuits through research and development and implant them in a host, but such a thing would be for someone else, because yours are already on their way to the best of the best. • This also affects how much magical energy you use, to make a comparison, the average mage has 20 units of magical energy, Ciel had 5000 units, you have 10000, and it will always improve according to your magic circuits, as a respected magus you must have enough energy to sustain any research or spell you want. • You can change your origin, it is true that the origin is the starting point that defines one's existence and directs one's actions throughout life. It is the driving force that comes from within the Root, which has managed to sprout from the Source and take material form, but you can change it, unlike other people you can trace your origin to the Root and exchange it for something that is more convenient, ok to see changes, so you will have to be careful, but at least you can change it for anything you want, be it creature, emotion or concept, you can even keep several at the same time, although you would have to be careful, the origin may end waking up if you swap it too much or if you have several, and they manage to sync up, you're a never-before-seen case, so crazy things can happen. • If a person ends up awakening their Origin, it becomes nearly impossible to deviate from their Origin, if even possible in the first place. It becomes an impulsive behavior that one would follow as if it were an absolute order, it has to be taken into account that if you achieved such a thing you would gain superhuman abilities according to your origin, the defense mechanism that you have will save you at some point after awakening your origin, the defense mechanism returns your origin to its state before waking up, you can program it so that it takes days or months to put your origin to sleep again, keep that in mind, the origin has to be treated with care. • Element, the elements are somewhat easier to deal with and without as much danger as the origins, by default you are an average with the five elements, fire, water, earth, air, and ether and just as before you can exchange and modify them to your liking it is better not to overlap an exaggerated number of elements, but at least you are not in as much danger as with the origins, the element is the type of magic with which you are more predisposed and which one you are better at, it should be noted that different cultures handle in different ways the elements, so there is a variety of elements with the same name, you will have to be more specific when changing the element. • The elements are not so rigid when it comes to making magecraft, if we put as an example that you have water as an element and that you want to learn spells more inclined with fire, you can, but it will cost more, although that is not your case, it should also be remembered that the elements are more than the name of said element itself, water is the fluidity and control of liquids, the other elements are something similar, only with their own peculiarities, there are elements as unique as sword or hollow, so who knows What things can you achieve if you start being creative. • Origins and elements are connected, so if you have the same origin and the same element, you will notice that your magic will have a boost on anything bordering on that field, although you run the risk of over-specializing, an example would be demon origin and demon element, you will find that you could do spectacular things with demonology, although you won't be able to do much with any kind of sorcery not associated with demons. • You are an artist when it comes to creating things, you would fit very well with Atlas, just like them, you are able to create things that could bring about the destruction of the world seven times, there is no limit in what you are able to build, from mystical supergiant codes like the “Foundation of Philosophy” up to the seven weapons of Atlas, it would be possible within your capabilities to start theorizing how to create Noble Phantasms or recreate them, very well you can do like the hikikomori of Caubac and create your own holy scriptures, or you can be like Zelretch troll and create items about magical girls or whatever you prefer, you can create the philosophical keys or magical crests or create something new based on it. • Theoretically, you are able to build anything shown in TYPE-MOON that is supernatural, and this includes everything from a simple pistol to the MOON CELL itself, and always with the ability to innovate, improve, or create something entirely new. • The “Philosophy Foundation” generated by the Xian in the land of China is essentially a simulation of an artificial Root. The Xians worked together as a group to build it. Instead of connecting to the Root using the gods as a relay, as civilizations in the Age of Gods did, the Xian produced their system of magic by building a Supergiant Mystic Code that merges with the planet. That is the Philosophy Foundation. • You are able to break down any magic you see or theorize into its most basic components, you may very well be called the second coming of Waver, for what you can do, with your talents it would not be difficult to dissect any magic you see down to its most basic concepts, being able to recreate it if you decide to do such a thing, you can always see ways to improve or modify it, but there is no magic that you don't see that you don't understand. • It has been said that anything magecraft can do technology can do and vice versa, you understand that principle well, you are capable of achieving anything science achieves through magecraft, any technology you see will only give you new and innovative ideas to achieve it through magecraft. • An example would be Apollo 11, you can imitate such a thing with magecraft, a space teleportation to reach the moon or some strange chimera that can take you, to know if you can do something else with astrology, true magic may end up dying, but magecraft it will be maintained and will continue to advance as long as you exist and science exists. • A magus is a scholar above all else, as a magus your main skill will be the investigation of sorcery in order to get to the root, you are a born investigator knowing every detail of the book by heart, a slight passing glance is enough to remember it whenever you want without need at a second glance, and not only that, you understand them to their very core, anything you don't know, you only need to investigate it to learn, as a researcher your handwriting will be relentless, your notes will be the finer details, and you can always do a thesis about a thousand and one ways to get to the root, you know for shit and giggles. • You unconsciously organize your work space, you will not be the typical researcher with your head in the clouds and with a workshop more messy than your room, no, your workshop is a perfect example of order, organized to the millimeter without you realizing it, this is also gone to all your jobs, no leaving dangerous things lying around unprotected or having all your tools dirty and messy, you know what they say, a tidy space is a safe space, and you have exemplary security. • You are a good teacher, you see the talent of people, their potential, and you can show that by bringing out all that talent, just like Waver you are an exceptional teacher when it comes to teaching, even the dumbest and most talentless person can become even a Lord, a person with real talent and a good head on his shoulders can very well get to Marshall just like Zelretch and Lorelei, of course as long as he listens to your lessons. • In addition to research you can focus your skills to develop many elements in any field you choose, on top of that you will never see any unwanted side effects or stalling your research, you see possibilities in mistakes, small delays in full stalls of a sorcery, potential in drawbacks, every mistake, bump, or snag in your eyes will become a possibility that may very well take your research to new heights. • Example: you can focus on martial arts, create something like the Nanaya killing arts, even recreate the Nanaya arts themselves, use pre-existing martial arts to give them mystical effects, it's very viable, you can create your own mystical martial arts. Assessing an enemy in the middle of a fight is easy for you, developing countermeasures against him or finding weaknesses you can exploit (If you have “The Mystic Eyes Of Death Perception” or something similar, you can find new lines of death or develop them in your enemy yourself) there is no field in which you cannot apply your talents. • Optionally, you can create a workshop, a workshop is a place where the magus carry out their research, it is a sacred place that any self-respecting magus will never let anyone enter, yours is impenetrable and untouchable, unless you allow it, at first you can design it inside as you like either as some ancient place of study or as a modern laboratory, your workshop is a subspace between dimensions, impossible for any being to find, no matter where you go you can access to your workshop from anywhere, be it places as remote as the bottom of the ocean, some forest, or desert forgotten by the hand of God or space itself, you just have to call it the way you want, a door will open where you can enter, you can modify this entrance as you want, needing a key or only access from a certain door when you want, and always having the flexibility so that you can modify it to your g you. • Your workshop has books on every possible sorcery and various ways to implement it, even notes for a beginner to practice little by little and build slowly, along with manuals and various articles for learning, it also has information on magus policy or data from the world both known and not, there is a lot of knowledge that will serve you, and not all of it is necessarily sorcery, at your option, all of TYPE-MOON's knowledge can be here in book formats or any other form you want, the workshop It will have any material or tool you require, and just like before it ranges from the most exotic never thinkable to the most normal, after spending that material it will recharge regularly, so you never have to worry about running out of resources. • In case you want something different, you can create your own workshop in the way you want, building both its defenses and places where you will store your knowledge and carry out your research, when you finish, the construction will gain the same benefits as if you had it. Given, these are undetectable and impenetrable. • Your workshop is a place for any outside creature not to enter and for anything inside not to leave, the workshop is something that you can change to your liking both in appearance, space and time, you can even change concepts within your own workshop, convert your ceiling a gateway to space, so you can admire any star from near or far, you can't be harmed inside your own workshop so the vacuum of space or the sun's rays would do little or nothing to you. • A magician walks with death, you among the many magus out there, you are sensitive to danger, you know very well when something can go wrong, you detect it like a bloodhound, whether it is a migraine, a slight smell or daring visions of the mirrors of what could go wrong, whatever method you choose, you know something will go wrong, and you know what will cause it, there is no longer any danger of experiments or ambushes, your sense of danger will alert you whenever death is near you, there will be no moments either late or too early, this gives you the right time, and also something of how to go out, there is nothing impossible to avoid death here. • You can leave marks on people so that they also notify you if they are in danger, you decide if the same person is aware of the danger or not. • You can say if you want to be like Akiha Tohno and I will become a half-breed with the blood of some mythical or supernatural beast, this will give you certain unique abilities depending on the blood you decide, it will also give you a stronger connection to the mystery, your instincts will be controllable and will not cause any problem, although they can always be useful, it is always curious to know what those senses perceive that is not detectable by humans. • Optionally, you can decide if you want to do some research to fully become that creature, an example being becoming a dead apostle like Gransurg Blackmore did. • You can give people mythical blood if you want to do something with it, you can always control them and take that power away from them if they rebel. • Despite the fact that many magus dislikes it, politics is present within their society, you are the one who governs that, words are an art that you master, you are the best, it is simple to deceive or convince people, you know how people think. People, you know what they want, you know how to guide their thoughts or group a group of people with certain ideas, you know by heart every law, every line, every letter of every word and every political loophole that you can take advantage of with all that, move in the world politician, it's not very difficult, you control it well, you can be considered a control demon for how well you handle everything. • If you don't want to touch politics, that's fine, you know enough to move in society, it's simple to fake smiles or emotions, deceiving people is second nature, making them believe that you are like them, without any problem and with a normal life it's surprisingly easy, if you don't want to fool anyone that's fine, just with the security you show you would eventually have some group of trustworthy friends. • Sometimes it is difficult to know if a decision is good, until after seeing what happens, not for you, the decisions you make, are made under detailed scrutiny, your decisions will no longer have the doubt of whether you did it right, and even if for some strange reason some bad decision goes through your detailed study, you will have a sixth sense that will constantly warn you not to choose it, it will be your decision after that. • If ever it is not enough to stick to the laws, you know how to do everything in a more criminal way, blackmail, extortion, threaten, etc. you know every dirty trick in the book, in fact you wrote the book, you know it backwards and forwards, the underworld has its own laws, and you know them like the back of your hand, your very well can create your own mafia and promote it by the underworld, and when it's not enough to talk, well, it's an easier way to just permanently eliminate every person or group that opposes, not that anyone finds out if you want. • You know people's minds, you know how they think, you know what they want, and you can notice very clearly when some thought of betrayal passes through their pretty little head now condemned, you can tell if they have a plan or if they are trying to influence you, not because of some strange ability but because you simply know how the human being works, there is no person that you cannot understand, just one look and the personality of any person remains in your eyes, abnormal cases like Shirou Emiya is simply looking at them from a slightly different perspective, it is easy to You play with those thoughts, moving some person from one place to another like a puppet is quite a fun hobby, turning the most cowardly person into something much worse than Shirou with his sense of heroism and his lack of self-preservation is simple, the most calm and good-hearted person under your hands can be left as Kirei Kotomine with no moral limit as to how much evil is enough, h woe to whoever makes you angry, you know enough about the human being to create a real hell with simple words, people tend to think that words cannot cause so much damage, after all, words are not as effective as a sword According to them, it is sometimes easy to forget that a few simple words caused the fall of Camelot. • Trade is not so attached to the magus, but it is better to have money and be like Luvia using money from one side to the other, not be like Rin and wonder if you can last until the end of the month paying attention to each expense you make, the world of commerce opens its huge golden doors to you, you know money, you know how money is managed, you know where there are opportunities or how to create them yourself, you know where definitely not to be around to keep the money you have and avoid losses. • You have what can be said, a golden luck, the lottery, prizes, or just finding a dollar on the street, money comes to you passively, you can control how much comes to you, from a simple five dollars to millions, someone can suspect, but you will still be rich, so there will not be so many problems. • You know every dollar, every coin by heart, down to the tiniest penny, you keep it in mind when you do the math, which makes you very good with numbers, but pluses aside, you keep every bit of your money in mind, so that if any bills or coins go missing you'll notice quickly, so it's easy to spot if some fool is having a funny idea about your money. • Furthermore, you are the best at handling money, you can very well copy the Harweys and get 60% of the planet or more, there will be opposition, but if you use this, plus your political skills, you can very well do it without anyone noticing. • Mystery is what allows magecraft, the crystallization of belief, so it is undeniable to say that without mystery there is no magecraft or magic, as time passes and technology advances, the mystery gradually evaporates from this world, a risk for the magus, because their job lies in the very existence of the mystery, that is a danger that does not apply to you, your mere existence revives the mystery, you are like a plant only instead of expelling air, you expel mystery, this is something you can control, such as applying it only to your actions or that it spreads throughout the world or only to an area in general, you decide. • Be careful not to spread it around the world, the revival of the mystery can revive some troublesome things, most likely you can irreparably affect the world itself, the planet itself will be affected by such an action. • If you decide to enclose the mystery in an area, in that small area the mystery will begin to accumulate, affecting everything that is inside, each plant, each animal, each insect, even the smallest being can be affected. • Since the mystery comes from you, every creature that is impacted by the mystery you produce will feel a feeling of loyalty towards you, the probability that they will not be loyal to you is close to zero, they may see you as a divine being, which is god to humans, at worst they will be of no use to you, but they will still refuse to harm you. • You have more security against Gaia and Alaya, they will be softer when it comes to judging whether to eliminate you, you can be much more reckless than the rest of the magicians and unless you do something extreme like endangering the entire planet or humanity itself, none attack, they will stay away and not bother you, they will watch you it is true, but they will never interfere with anything you do as long as you do not go too far, this includes that Alaya cannot prune the timeline where you are, you are an immutable being when it comes to damaging the timeline, the incineration of humanity or the Lostbelt will do nothing to you, you are protected from that by sending you to another time and space, you will be displaced through time to the point of origin where that timeline was damaged, the singularities, very well you can solve it or just observe while you continue with your investigation while you wait to be sent to another space-time, in case it is solved you will return to where you were before all this happened, and in case that timeline is doomed you will be sent to another timeline that is not in danger. • Your powers cannot be stolen, deleted, copied or anything like that, you will have constant protection against negative effects, in case something unexpected happens, you will be randomly teleported, your powers will return, eventually, they always return. • Without perfection, nothing you build is ever perfect, it never will be, nor are you perfect, perfection is a limiting factor, when perfection arrives there is nothing else, that is why you can break perfection being able to grow unlimitedly, there is no limit in terms of you can grow or improve pre-existing things because in principle there is no end for you, and although some may say that there must be an end, a point at which you will eventually reach perfection by not being able to improve anymore, they are wrong, as simple beings, his imagination, his head can only come to that conclusion, that there is a limit, but not you, the limits seen in mortal eyes do not apply, you see an infinite path, the root itself is infinite and constantly growing, because you cannot be equal to her and have no limits in your growth, without perfection, without limits, a perpetual growth.

Just wanted to share an introduction to my dynasty's Phaeron for those that might be interested, let me know what you guys think.
Millions of years ago during the flesh times, the 582nd Phaeron of the Tuthankh dynasty: Tharokht the Brute was holding court when all of a sudden, the great doors swung open. The overlords turned their gaze towards a shadowy cloaked figure brandishing a large double bladed Hyperphase Glaive. Slowly the figure approached the Tuthank throne. No Overlord, Nemesor nor Lord dared speak, for the tension was palpable. All of a sudden Tharokht barked at his personal guards: the Warriors of the Golden Hand, to dispatch of this interloper. Before many of the members of the court had realized, the Warriors of the Golden Hand had surrounded the cloaked figure. Yet before even a pin could drop, a flash and a sizzling sound cut through the silence. Tharokht looked on in horror as his personal guards fell, bisected, to the floor. The overlords gasped at the sight. Red mist rose from the wounds of the warriors and in the middle of the ghastly circle crouched the cloaked figure, blade extended to his side. The figure rose and removed his hood to reveal a young necrontyr warrior. As the warrior marched on towards the throne murmurs started to be heard, and within them a name: the Crimson Conqueror. A legend from the annals of the Tuthankh dynasty states that one day, a warrior would appear from the wastes wielding the long lost Soulrending blade. This warrior would lead the Tutankh dynasty to their destiny. When the warrior reached the base of the throne he stopped, raised his Soulrending blade and pointed it at the head of Tharokht. "I, Sekhmenth of the Soulrending blade challenge you". Tharokht reached for his blade and swung. Sekhmenth parried the strikes as if on instinct and retorted by kicking the Phaeron back onto his throne. "Pathetic, this is supposed to be our Phaeron? Laughable". Sekhmenth turned his back to speak to the Tuthankh court. "Esteemed members of this court, the days of our dynasty existing in the shadows of giants end today! Follow me and we shall...". Sekhmenth stepped to the side as Tharokht's blade missed his shoulder by millimeters, then silence. Apart from a familiar sizzling sound. The court looked on in silence as Sekhmenth pulled his blade out of the chest of Tharokht, a red mist wafting out of the wound as the blade breathed air once more. After a moment the Tuthankh court all fell to their knees as they chanted: "Hail the Crimson Conqueror! All hail Phaeron Sekhmenth!" From that day forward Sekhmenth would lead his Dynasty. Through Biotransference, through the War in Heaven, through the Great Sleep and into the 41st millenium. Dropping his Epithet of the Crimson Conqueror and embracing the title of Sekhmenth the Crimson Doom, Phaeron of the Tuthankh Dynasty, and he will see to it that all know his name and speak it in reverence, or he will cease to be in attempt.