Cricut explore air replacement blade

I'm not sure this possibility was explored yet, I just wanted to share some thoughts I had.
Book cipher basics:
Wiki:

A book cipher is a cipher in which each word or letter in the plaintext of a message is replaced by some code that locates it in another text, the key.

There are diffrent ways to encode a message: * word, word, word * page, line, word * page, paragraph, word * etc
The first one alows the highest information density but is slower to encode/decode for a human.
The main difficulty is to know what book was used to encode the message.
Theory:
In our case, FF:06:B5 = 255:06:181.
Encoding format:
This could be decoded to 3 words (for www encoding) or 1 word (for other encodings). I suppose it's the first one, just because it's it contains more information.
Book used:
Could be realy any book released prior the game release, in theory. But the game being CD projekt's, I suppose it's a Witcher or a Cyberpunk related book. Like the Cyberpunk RED edition, the game sourcebook, the art booklet or a tome of the Witcher series.
I doubt the key is a shard, just by the immense quantity present in the game. But it's still possible.
For the language, it's probably in English , but could also be in Polish.
Solution ?
If that's the solution, it's a "simple" one (from requirements stand point). No city geometry or audio spectrum analysis, no datamining and no speculations on perks points or circuit board patterns.
There are really 2 difficulties: finding the key and finding the coding format.
The format isn't really a problem as there are only few options (<10).
The key is the real challenge, but I suppose CDPR would chose a book/text that has a significant importance (for the story, the universe or for the studio). It could also be a book mentioned/shown during a stream. That means there is a finite quantity of texts/documents to test. And a large part of it can be automated.
My plan

• Extract all shards (from wiki or game dirrectly) to txt files.
• Find Witcher books txt files in English and Polish (doubt my French version is the key)
• Write a simple program to extract words using different encodings for 255:06:181
• Compile and run
• Analyse the immense amount of generated data and filter out wrong/impossible results (maybe with syntax analysis).
• Check pdf sourcebook and some other pdf files provided with the gog version of the game.(manually as it's a scaned pdf)
• Possibly expand research to other books by checking some streams (Paweł Sasko).

Maybe the decoded message is an instruction for the next step, maybe the message is just "wasted your time", or maybe this is not the solution to this secret.
Main questions I have before I start:

• Has anybody explored this option?
• What do you think of this theory?

Ok guys I am stumped. 95 Bronco. 5.0 with E40D. I have been fighting a 629 code for 2 days. The truck would go into reverse and 1st fine but stall in drive or second. found the plug to the trans was rotted so I replaced it with a new one. Plug it in still same thing. So I dropped the pan and pulled the solenoid pack. Cleaned the shit out of the connector and made sure it has a good solid connection. Replace trans filter, put the pan back up and fill. Same issue. So I pulled the whole harness and inspected the entire thing. No crimps or frayed wires. So I pulled the pcm and cleaned it up a bit. No exploded capacitors or anything just a little corrosion which I cleaned off. No change is symptoms. Then from seemingly nowhere the truck wont start. It wants to start but stumbles and stalls unless I put my foot to the floor. I can keep it alive by giving it throttle but its rough. Pulled codes and found 553, 565, 558, 629 and 625. I replaced the idle control valve and cleaned the maf and intake air temp sensor along with the coolant temp sensor. No dice. I am probably forgetting a couple things but any help would be appreciated. I was driving myself in circles trying to figure out the convertor lockup issue (suspect its either the pcm or solinoid pack) and now with this new problem I am lost. Thanks! I also forgot when testing the pcm with it disconnected from the trans it grounds out the torque convertor lockout wire as soon as the key is turned on.

I use to want to buy a house in my early 20s. I do electrical, contractor work, plumbing, etc. myself as I do that stuff for work.
At one point I wanted to build my house because I don't trust other people. I've seen so many places where HVAC guys cut a vital structure support to place the cold air intake. I've pulled out my fair share of burnt wires on outlets or squirrels in the wall chewing the wires unforseen, etc. And this all can be hidden behind drywall. You won't even know until a problem occurs.
I watch coworkers spend their weekend mowing their lawn, fixing something with their house, etc. Meanwhile renting, I just relax and go play the new Zelda game,l or go out exploring the east coast with my family. Coworkers keep asking me when am I going to buy a house. I'm like I don't know if I want one anymore. I don't know if I want to commit to a 30 year possible headache down the road. I don't want to spend my weekend mowing a lawn, fixing a hot water tank, soldering a new ball valve on copper from a water leak, etc. I get paid to do that stuff now, I don't want to do it unpaid and having to pay for the materials as well.
I'm 36 now, a 30 year mortgage will last until I'm 66. I expect to probably die around 70. So the value I put into the house, I expect to only enjoy for like 4 years. So I don't see the value in buying a house.

Hey, long story short, whenever I’m riding for long periods of time (longer than 30 minutes), I encounter a weird throttle issue. When I pull back the throttle to accelerate it feels like there’s a popping/misfire issue and it will sometimes barely accelerate, killing my speed. After trying to push through this problem long enough, it just refuses to go and will idle with that same weird popping and just turn off. By that time I’ve pulled off to the side of the road because it’ll barely go over 30 km an hour.
Only solution I’ve found is to pull off the road, wait 5-10 minutes then go again, but the issue will often come back soon after.
I’ve clean and replaced the spark plug, checked oil, carburetor, air filter and gas. All checks out, and I’m seriously stuck with this issue. If anyone can offer advice, it’d be much appreciated.

Live in WNY. Systems are:

• a boiler on its own transformer, baseboard heat
• separately powered central air using Trane equipment (Tem 3 air handler)

Trying to set up an ecobee3 Lite. Have power to the thermostat and almost everything works as expected... EXCEPT the air handler blower isn't turning on. I know the blower is working fine - if I touch the red (Rc) and green (G) wires behind the thermostat, I hear the blower kick on. Also if I turn the thermostat to cool and set below current room temp, the condenser unit outside kicks in but without the blower. I'm assuming I have something wired incorrectly but I can't for the life of me figure it out.
I've posted pictures of the wiring and it seems pretty straight forward. The only thing of note is that there is a line to the thermostat that is spliced because someone didn't want to replace it through the wall. So blue from the handler ends up connecting with black behind the thermostat in that splice.
Anyone have a suggestion to fix or things to try to solve this?

Dostoevsky wrote Notes From Underground when he was in his early forties. In this book, he explores the ideas of resentment of a man who buried himself inside his tiny apartment and his justification for this pathetic existence in constant fear, hate and loneliness. The underground man both despised and embraced his condition, glorified and degraded it. I read this book and I thought of myself, of my own sins, weaknesses, and occasional cowardice. As the saying goes, when you read a book, a book reads you as well. When I read, I try to be honest with myself and look for the lines in prose that reflect my own sins that I would like to overcome. We all have demons, and those demons must be fought tirelessly for the rest of our lives.
Books like Notes from Underground help you to see the truth about yourself if you are strong and brave enough to face it. We all have something from the underground man in us; some have it more, some have it less. We can all become resentful over our own weakness that we are blind to. Who hasn’t blamed others for our own follies? Who hasn’t lied to others or to ourselves? It’s so easy to become hateful toward the world or your own country. It’s easy to be corrupt and lazy. Spitting on God’s image and Judeo-Christian traditions doesn’t take much effort. To ruin someone’s life, or a community for that matter, often takes just one tweet. If enough people turned into underground men and adopted their mentality, the entire west would collapse while those people would crazily laugh on its ruins, refusing to recognize what they had done.
Comfort makes you weak, and weak people have no discipline. Without discipline, you can be easily deceived by bureaucrats into fear, and without realizing it, you become a slave of a corrosive ideology. We need God to believe that there is Someone bigger than we are. Without God, you are on the way toward hedonism of worshiping your own body through promiscuity and gluttony. Emotional and physical discipline is the road toward God. The one who rules the world rules himself, and to rule yourself, you need God on your side.
The Underground man said, “I say let the world go to hell, but I should always have my tea.” If he lived today, he might replace tea with Starbucks. He would be one of many young people who live in the underground of society, with no faith, no identity, no vision, but only a desire to destroy what they cannot create. This is a common pattern in history. Those who lack creativity crave destruction. Those who are ignorant are filled with fear and hatred. Those who are weak join the angry and violent crowd. And as Dostoevsky observed, “What is hell? I maintain that it is the suffering of being unable to love.” Who can dispute that?

I feel it's important to share my recent experience with Verizon's 5G Internet service, which has been catastrophically underwhelming. As a gamer and a remote worker, reliable and fast internet is not just a luxury, it's a necessity. Being surrounded by Verizon towers, I assumed I'd benefit from a solid 5G experience. Unfortunately, this has not been the case.
The first warning sign was the massive packet loss and packet bursts I experienced during online gaming - a disaster for any gamer. Games demand a consistent data flow, and with this unstable connection, lag and connectivity issues have been a maddening constant. The most frustrating part? These problems persisted even while I was hardwired to the modem.
But this issue extends beyond just gaming. Working from home requires a dependable internet connection, too. On numerous occasions, my work has been disrupted by these persistent connectivity issues, causing significant delays and added stress. By the way, all of my devices are hardwired to the modem during this entire process!
My girlfriend, who also works from home, had an even worse experience. She hasn't been able to connect her laptop to the WiFi at all. In a world where remote work is becoming increasingly prevalent, this level of service is simply unacceptable.
Seeking a solution, I reached out to Verizon, suspecting my modem might be the root cause. It was an older model, and I was only getting around 25 Mbps. They suggested a replacement due to their inability to update the firmware on my current model, blaming the firmware on the equipment being from 2022.
Eager to resolve this, I went to a Verizon store, got the new modem, and hurried home. Plugged it in, fingers crossed, only to be met with the same dismal speeds and my girlfriend being unable to get a strong enough signal to connect to the internet. The new modem hadn't solved the problem. All the time, effort, and money spent on it felt utterly wasted.
So here I am, stuck with my initial problem of low speed, unreliable connection, and a new modem that hasn't improved anything. I'm not just disappointed - I'm frustrated and let down.
I wanted to share this story so that others who rely on their internet for gaming and work from home know what they might be getting into with Verizon 5G. For me, it's been a disastrous letdown.
I'd appreciate any advice or suggestions from the community. Meanwhile, it seems I'll need to explore other service providers.
TL;DR: Verizon 5G has caused me significant issues in gaming and remote work due to massive packet loss and slow speeds, despite being hardwired to the modem. Upgrading to a new modem didn't help. My girlfriend hasn't been able to connect her laptop to the WiFi at all. Open to any and all suggestions.

For bagged salads, I pop the paper towel in there and clip the bag closed with air in it, turn it upside down so the salad is now sitting on the towel, and back in the fridge it goes.
I've also bought those big clamshell containers of fresh spinach or spring mix marked down for clearance (provided they're not already starting to go gooey), opened them once home, added paper towel inside, turned them upside down, into the fridge, and not a single leaf went bad on me.
(Best to replace the paper towel every day or two for best results.)

Timestamp and Pictures
For sale is my secondhand MacBook Pro. I bought this off someone on here and then used it for about a year before replacing it with my current MacBook Air M1. It's in fairly good condition, minus the few nicks that I documented in the Pictures album above. It's the perfect secondary laptop, or if you want a cheap laptop to mess around on for programming. All specs and battery stats are also in the Pictures album. I lost the box in my last move across the country, but it does come with the charger.
Please let me know if you have any questions!
Asking: $180 net to me (buyer pays fees) shipped. Am willing to consider a trade, part-trade, and negotiate.
Repairs: None

Anyone else having the cold air in passenger side and warm in the driver side issue after replacing the condenser? The dealership replaced it for me last summer and it was freezing cold after. Now not so much. Any ideas?

If I had to pick an embarrassing moment which will haunt me until I die—it has to be the time I tried out for The Sunbeam cheer squad last year. I was a freshman, and I wanted community. Friends.
I heard the cheer squad were just an extra-curricular group rather than an actual majoring level class, so I figured I’d give them a shot. It’s not like I could ignore them.
On my first day when I was moving into my dorm room, I must have walked into the same girl three times. I am in strict belief that it is not possible for a human being to be permanently happy.
And yet that was her. She wandered around like the sun shone right out of her ass, and it was both endearing and terrifying.
The girl resembled the sun herself, a halo of golden curls held in a scrunchie and a flaunting sundress, matching ribbons wrapped around her. The Sunbeam Squad were easy to spot because they were all wearing insanely bright yellow—waving around gold streamers, ribbons tangled in their hair. They all spoke in insanely high pitched voices like they inhaled helium for a living, but that must have been their shtick, right? It was kind of cute. I wasn’t expecting such a welcome in the shape of guy’s and girl’s looking like they had just stepped off of ABC Kids. The girl who handed me a flyer and yelled in my face about school spirit was practically hopping up and down, a bright grin splitting her lips apart.
I nodded and smiled politely, stuffing the flyer in my bag and heading into my room to finish moving my stuff in. When I looked out of my window a few hours later, the Sunbeam squad was still threaded through the crowd, each of them wrapped in glittering fairy lights illuminated in the late evening sunset glow. Sunbeam. Yeah, I got it, but it was still kinda overkill. They were starting to remind me of a cult.
That, however, didn’t stop me trying out. I’m fairly athletic, and they were exactly what I wanted. I’ve never had a group of people I could call friends.
Though it’s not like I could blame anyone but myself. I was a shut-in for most of high school. I either worked or preferred my own company in my room. One of my biggest regrets is pushing people away, friends I wanted to get even closer to. Because now they had built these lifelong friendships and relationships, and I was stuck at 18 years old with nobody but childhood friends I spoke to once a year when we sent mutual holiday greetings to each other. But college could change that.
At least, that’s what I hoped. I spoke to as many people as possible on my first day—and in my head I was making them. Slowly but surely I was actually making friends in my classes I wanted to hang out with.
Sunbeam were my attempt to go even further and join a club. Through word of mouth in my first few weeks of classes, I learned they were more of an extra-curricular group for fun.
They didn’t cheer competitively and had been formed in the mid-90’s by some kids who wanted to make a community out of positivity and school spirit. Sunbeam had a reputation for being Watson State student body’s beacons—and their team’s good luck charm. It was well known across campus that the squad was the reason behind the college’s fortune.
It had been like that since they formed 30 years ago, with members through the generations carrying out that pledge to spread as much pep as possible. While I say that they seemed nice judging from what I heard from others, they weren’t exactly the easiest clique to get into. Unless you were on the squad.
I saw them around campus between classes. They always moved as a group, the six of them with their arms wrapped around each other, brandishing the school colours. The guy’s in loose fitting varsity jackets, while the girl’s flaunted cheer skirts.
The way they acted was a little too close, like they were more than friends—and community and friendship had bled into something else. Like they had just walked out of an early 2000’s teen movie. Not that I was complaining. Their style was intriguing. They were like this untouchable group of god’s who had been placed on the highest pedestals. They ruled over campus, which made me want to get to know them even more. So, I tried out. Which was my first mistake of many in my freshman year.
It didn’t hit me that I was in way over my head until I was in the college gymnasium, standing in front of a four person panel like I was auditioning for a Hollywood movie. Sunbeam took their try-outs incredibly seriously. Which was weird considering they were known to be the complete opposite.
There were maybe fifty or so applicants, and we had to stand near the back wall and watch others try out one by one. Which was already setting off my anxiety. Weren’t they supposed to be closed try-outs? Initially, I was excited.
I had my routine in my head. What I had learned from watching the squad at my old school. High V, Low V, followed by a Touchdown, and then a backflip. I was confident. I mean, it ticked most cheer moves off, and even had a flip to complete the routine. My high school were a multi-sex quad, so I learned a lot from watching the guy’s moves during pep rallies.
I wasn’t really worried about the quality of the moves since they were known not to take everything too seriously. But watching the others try-out, impossible flips without crash mats and twisting their bodies in ways I didn’t know was possible, I quickly realised I was screwed. My competitors were acting like they were auditioning for an Olympic level team. My gut was dancing when I took centre stage.
The panel were made up of four members of the squad. Two boys and two girl’s, including the blonde who handed me the flyer on my first day. I was surprised when her eyes lit up with recognition.
"Oh, I know you!" She squeaked. Leaning forward, her smile seemed to brighten, illuminating her features. All four of them seemed to emanate a warm glow.
I felt myself relax slightly, the knot in my stomach loosening. Maybe their heightened positivity thing wasn’t a shtick, after all. The girl, as well as the other members of the team seemed genuinely happy to see me trying out. “What’s your name?” Her voice reverberated off of the walls, and I was suddenly aware of a dozen other students watching me.
“Alex.” I said, offering a shy wave. “Hey.”
Still grinning, she nudged a redhead next to her playfully. The guy was like no other I’d seen before. He was a god damn traffic light. He was easy to spot in a crowd and was usually one of the low-key members who kept his head down. All of those colours painting him, and yet somehow he wasn’t blinding people.
Though admittedly, he suited them; bright red hair clashing with the blue and gold of his football jersey, pasty skin and dark eyes drinking me in while the blonde girl pulled at his sleeve. “See, I told you annoying freshmen would work!”
In response, he chuckled, rolling his eyes. “Whatever you say, Evie.” The guy straightened up, leaning his chin on his fist, a curious spark in his eyes. “Alright.” Twisting around in his chair, he signalled for music. When it started, the beat slammed into me, rumbling under my feet. “Let’s see what you’ve got!”
I’m not going to describe my routine because I don’t have time to describe how fucking bad I was. In my head, I was doing okay. I was ready to finish with my back flip, but the music abruptly cut off and I found myself struggling to find my breath with my hands in the air, panting like an idiot. The blonde maintained her smile, but it was slightly strained. I could tell she was struggling to keep the façade of a Sunbeam member while also retaining critical thinking.
The redhead looked like he was in pain. He was first to speak, and I could tell by his sympathy smile I’d screwed up. The others who I hadn’t fully taken in until that moment, an asian American guy, and a girl with pigtails, were laughing like pre-schoolers. And they didn’t stop until the redhead shot them the warning eyes.
Weirdly enough, the crowd of onlookers didn’t join in. I expected the redhead to politely tell me I sucked, but instead he cocked his head, chewing on his pen. “You’re good.” He said. “You’re a good dancer, and I liked your moves…”
He trailed off. “But it’s positivity we’re looking for. And you didn’t smile once through your whole routine which made you look stiff. Like you weren’t even enjoying it.” He shrugged helplessly. “I like you, and I like your dancing. And I’m sure you could be better if you worked on it. There are countless dancing clubs here, so maybe you might be better fitted there.” After exchanging a look with the blonde, he sighed. “Unfortunately, you’re not the type of person we’re looking for.”
Evie nodded. “I agree. We pride ourselves on staying positive and smiling. I didn’t see that on you, Alex.”
“Same here.” Pigtails, still giggling, joined in. “I don’t think you’ve got enough school spirit.”
The other guy scoffed. He looked to be of Korean descent. Unlike the redhead, he was always at the centre of their group, always joking around and laughing. Just looking at him told me he was the leader. “Bullshit!” He slapped the table with one hand, running his hands through thick dark hair with the other. “I liked it. Fuck pep, amirite?” He threw his pen at the blonde, who retaliated in a squeak, lobbing hers at him. “Ignore these clowns. I think you’ve got what it takes. We just gotta work on you, y’know? All you’re missing is a cheesy grin.”
He pointed to himself, stretching his lips into the widest smile he could muster. “See? Like this.”
“Clowns?” Evie shook her head. “I didn’t see one smile. Sunbeam is all about smiling!”
“You make us sound like a cult.” The Korean-American caught my eye. “Which we’re not, by the way. These guys are just scared of change.”
“Okay, that’s too far.” Pigtails shot him a scowl. Are you seriously disrespecting the alumni who created us? Who birthed us?
“Well, yeah!” He threw his paper at her. “Sunbeam is a pep cult. We get high off of happiness. I thought we distinguished that.”
“Take that back!”
“Never! Why do you think I joined? To get high! Do you really think I joined for the cheering?”
They were joking around. I could tell by the smiles on their faces—a smile I knew I would never be able to mimic.
“Quiet.” The redhead shushed them. The guy had been sitting silently. Studying me. He leaned back, folding his arms.
“See, even now—even when I’m considering giving you a chance, there’s no hope in your eyes. Not even a glitter of excitement. You’re still not smiling and that’s what we want, Alex. We want people who will embody what Sunbeam is all about. Even if I give you a second chance to brighten up your routine your smile will be fake. And that’s not what we want. We want people who are willing to shed their humanity and become beacons.”
Beacons, huh?
And they were seriously saying they weren’t a cult?
The redhead stabbed at his sheet of paper with the end of his pen. “Can’t you just give us one smile? It won’t kill you.”
It was then when the others watching started to laugh—and I wanted to punch the asshole in the face.
“Dude, chill.” The Korean-American played with his pen, twirling it between two fingers. “He’s right, as much as I hate saying it. We do need smilers, unfortunately. But hey, you can try out next year! Just remember to smile, alright?” He threw something at me. A squashed candy bar.
Which made me look even more pathetic.
I found myself nodding, even when I knew it was all bullshit. Still though, what each member had told me hit me harder than it should have. They were just words, what could they do? It turned out, words were far more powerful than I realised—I just didn’t know it yet. I didn’t wait for the others to speak and made a quick getaway, my gut twisting and turning.
They were a cult. That is what I decided. These guys were a cult who needed members willing to throw away their souls. Probably for ritualistic sacrifice.
They needed weak people, I thought. Even when part of me knew they were right. I wasn't a smiler. Every photo I'm in, I'm either frowning or look constipated. Still though, I didn't dwell on the try-outs for too long. By the time a week had gone by, I had mostly forgotten about it and threw myself into my studies and college life.
Though something was wrong with me. It was as if the world had slowed down, had stopped making sense completely. Every day felt like a dream, and I myself felt like I was a ghost, like I was disassociating from my own body. Conversations with people felt fake. Like I was making them up.
I remember waking up day after day in a daze I couldn’t get myself out of. It was only several weeks later did the thick mind fog which had been blanketing my brain finally lift—only for me to hear the news that all six members of the Sunbeam squad had disappeared. I don’t know how I didn’t notice, how I didn’t see the police investigation, or hear rumours being spread around like wildfire.
According to the college, it wasn't technically considered a disappearance since the members were all over eighteen, no longer minors. However, an investigation was conducted, with a statement being released that they were due to be performing at Knoxville College, cheering on our football team. But they never turned up. And what made it worse, was their bus was found abandoned on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere. Sounds bad, right?
Well, that's what we all thought. Vigils were already being held, and bodies weren't even found yet. Every time I walked back to my dorm after classes, the night would be lit up in warm golden light, candles flickering in the breeze. I'm not sure how many days had gone by-- they all seemed to blur into one-- when our college made another statement. The members of the Sunbeam squad were alive and healthy and had been sent to a training academy for professionals.
When the student body responded with confusion and scepticism, the college reassured us they were coming back once they were finished training. And while my classmates were relieved, I found myself confused. Sunbeam didn't cheer competitively. Their whole thing was that all they wanted to do was spread cheer and pep, regardless of how good they were. I had seen them perform, and they were good, sure. They were better than average. But definitely not good enough to be trained into pro’s. Their moves were too clumsy, too half assed—which I was convinced they thought overwhelming amounts of positivity could fix. So it didn’t make sense that they had been sent to some training academy. I kept up my scepticism until I saw them for myself.
The college were right. Sunbeam returned a week later like nothing had happened.
I did see a change in them. I think that was a universal opinion though. Sunbeam were well known for their pep and cheer, their constant smiling faces which drove me crazy—and it’s not like that stopped. They still smiled. They still walked around campus laughing together, in their own little world. That was when people were watching. When they had an audience. I caught them when they didn’t have an audience. Without eyes on them, they detached from each other, their eyes darkening, expressions twisting, like each of them could smell something rotten in the air. I started noticing they were getting progressively clumsier at keeping up that Sunbeam façade they must have pledged when they joined the group. I figured it was just tiredness. They must have been through some pretty intense training.
Anyway, months went by. I started to feel less distant, and the fog which had been choking me faded, thankfully. I started my junior year moving into a shared house with my roommate, and the only talk I’d heard about Sunbeam was that one of their ex members was rumoured to be pregnant. As for the rest of the squad, they were still popular, still talked about—but their disappearance had definitely made people wary of them. I even heard someone say they were considered bad luck. I guess people thought they had sold themselves out for a chance to get into the big leagues. And it wouldn’t surprise me.
Forced positivity can get you a long way, sure—but recognition can get you further.
It was just a few weeks ago when I was invited to a game. Our first of the season, thanks to delays due to cuts in the sports department. I’m not much of a sports fan, though I needed a distraction from the copious amounts of assignments I’d let pile on my desk.
When I sat down with a chilli dog and Coke, I wasn’t expecting to get so invested in a game where I had no idea what was happening. It was loud and obnoxious and I was choking on the stink of fried food, but it was fun. It was fun until Sunbeam walked out onto the side-lines. I glimpsed them in a blur of blue and gold, and a dull pain crawled across the back of my head. “You okay?” My housemate’s voice was barely distinguishable in my ears, when I found myself transfixed by the way they moved in erratic jumps, quickly taking position. They had gotten better. Everything which was Sunbeam had been stripped away. Their smiles were forced. Wrong.
I remembered they used to push and shove each other, making the crowd laugh. Now though, they were in almost perfect sync in the way they moved, no longer shakily, sometimes stumbling into each other. Their routine was longer than it usually was—and when the Korean-American guy perfected a triple flip, the crowd went crazy. I expected him to smile when he landed, grinning into the audience to generate what Sunbeam was made for. But his expression stayed stoic. Robotic. They were stiff. Heads up, backs straight, staring ahead of them. I was told when I tried out that fake smiles weren’t allowed, and yet that was all I was seeing. I was seeing egotistical grins and curled lips, quick glances between each member.
I expected looks of reassurances, and in jokes only they found funny. Instead, it looked like a mutual agreement.
They were planning something. From the looks on their faces, it wasn’t a firework show.
Sunbeam used to generate happiness. Their smiles, even under a façade, had always been real.
These guys emanated power. The way they stood. The guy’s at the front, readying what I guessed was a lift, and the girl’s on top of them.
Their routine ended with the music reaching a climax, and the two main girl’s being lifted into the air while performing High V’s.
But they didn’t stop there.
When the crowd exploded with applause, one of the girl’s slowly raised her arms and shot into the crowd with finger guns.
She shot twice—and with every time she pulled that imaginary trigger, her painted lips stretched into a maniacal grin.Until her gaze was on me. And then behind me. I could see it in her glittering eyes I could no longer call human. I met Evie at the start of my freshman year, and then at the disastrous try-outs.
I knew her wide smile, and the glint of passion twisting her expression—a love for the group and the members she couldn’t put into words. Right then I wasn’t seeing Evie, a Sunbeam cheerleader. I was seeing something else entirely, a being scanning faces in the crowd for a victim.
Her expression seemed to melt, from a gleeful grin, to something twisted and putrid, someone who craved the exact opposite of what Sunbeam preached. I watched her lips. I watched the words pop into existence, drowned into nothing by the crowds cheering. But I saw them in perfect clarity. “Drop.” She said, before pulling the imaginary trigger again.
No sooner had the words left her mouth before someone screamed behind me. I twisted around to see a guy had collapsed. He was pronounced dead five minutes later by his sobbing girlfriend who had attempted CPR. When I twisted back to look out onto the field, the Sunbeam Squad were gone. It didn’t make sense that they were the ones to cause the guy’s death—but it couldn’t have been a coincidence, right? Evie had shot into the crowd at the exact same time the guy had dropped dead. Finger guns weren’t a weapon of course, but the timing was too coincidental. I already knew there was something wrong with Sunbeam. And this just strengthened my claims.
Obviously, when I tried to tell people this, I was called crazy. Delusional. I reported it to the student information building and just got a blank stare.
The woman wasn’t even attempting to hear my story. She just heard “murder” and “Sunbeam” and her lips curved into an amused smirk. “You know, you are quite fascinating,” leaning back against her chair, the woman frowned at me through wonky glasses. "First you unexpectedly quit, and then you accuse them of murder. Which I can tell you is false.”
She flipped through a notebook in front of her. “According to the autopsy report released a few days ago, the young man died of a brain haemorrhage, not the result of being pretend shot at by a cheerleader miming finger-guns.” The woman cleared her throat.
“Tell me, what exactly do you have against the Sunbeam squad?"
“What?”
“You quit the squad at the end of your freshman year,” she said, “And now you’re trying to accuse them of murder? Fascinating.”
Her words struck me, a shiver sliding down my spine. The office was cosy, and when I sunk into the rich leather of the couch in front of a roaring fire I recognised the book on her desk. It was a dog eared copy of Harry Potter. I’d seen it before. But that was impossible. I had never been in her office. “Quit?” I shook my head. “No, I don’t…” I trailed off, stumbling over my words. “I’ve never been part of Sunbeam.”
“Were you not?” She shook her head, a crease forming between her brows. “Ah, I must be getting you mixed up with someone else.”
I nodded. “Just… can you just listen to me? That Evie girl was fucking—”
She cut me off. “Language.”
“Sorry. Evie. She was… I don’t know what she was doing... she was doing like... like magic?”
“Are you sure you didn’t dream it?”
“Yes!"
“Mmm hmm.” The woman cleared her throat, dismissing my protests. “I’m not a doctor, but If you’re experiencing memory loss and confusion, I suggest you go to the hospital. As for your ludicrous claims, you should keep them to yourself. That poor young man died due to a brain haemorrhage. Terrible and tragic, yes. But it was accidental, and not the work of… I’m sorry, what were you claiming it to be?”
“Magic.” I said, again.
When she raised her brow, I couldn’t resist a groan. “I saw her! She shot into the crowd and mouthed something!”
“She… mouthed something?”
“Yes! But—"
Again, her words sliced into mine. “Okay, let’s say you were right,” she said. “If you are saying this girl shot into the crowd with her imaginary gun, wouldn’t it be a gun shot which would have killed him? You said it yourself—, it was some kind of witchy magic to kill him. So, where was the bullet wound?” When I tried to speak, she raised her arm to shut me up.
“Exactly. There was none. Because the man suffered a haemorrhagic stroke, and nothing could be done to save him. Your claims a group of young people carried this out as a murder is not only blatant defamation, but also disrespectful to the young man and his family. Now, please leave my office. I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” The woman nodded for me to stand up. “I think you have been watching too much TV. Might I suggest focusing on your studies?”
I left her office, slamming the door.
My housemate wasn’t helpful when I told him. He told me I was maybe a little too obsessed with Sunbeam. He headed to work, and I ended up in the lounge trying to focus on an episode of Criminal Minds. But I couldn’t stop thinking about Evie.
I saw what she said.
Drop.
But it wasn’t the force of her imaginary finger-guns ricocheting back. It was the word. Drop.
It had been alive on her lips like it was a sentient thing bleeding into existence. I managed to fall asleep, twisted like a pretzel in my housemate’s favourite chair, when three loud knocks on the door tore me from slumber. I was on my feet, blinking, disoriented. It was rare when we got a visitor. Stumbling over to the door, I had a moment of hesitation. I imagined Evie on the other side.
I imagined her raising her arm and shooting her pretend finger-guns directly into my head.
When I opened the door, I was surprised to see three little kids. The youngest must have been maybe nine years old. To my surprise, they were dressed in Halloween costumes. There was a little witch, a ghost, and a scarecrow all carrying pumpkin shaped holders It took me a moment to realise I was staring at a group of Trick or Treaters. It wasn’t even mid-October yet.
“Hey there,” I said, “Uh, you guys are a little early.”
The little girl’s eyes were wide and unblinking. “We want candy.” She held out her candy holder. “Now.”
I decided to be firm with them. “It’s not Halloween.” I said, taking a small step back. I was grasping the handle, ready to slam it in their faces. These little shits were freaking me out. Not just their tone, but their expressions were vacant. There were no lights on and that terrified me. “Sorry kids, I don’t have any candy. But like I said, come back when it’s actually Halloween, and I’ll have candy bars for all of you. "
What I wasn’t expecting was for the Scarecrow to pull a knife out of his pumpkin shaped candy holder. He didn’t hold it like a kid should, clumsily, confused. There was a strategic way the way his fingers were wrapped around the handle—like he’d brandished one before. The kid held the knife up to his own neck and made a slicing motion. Like the little girl, his eyes were blank. Unblinking. There was something wrong in the way he was standing. Stiff, like a puppet on strings. “Are you fucking kidding me?” He squeaked out a laugh. I didn’t see him lunge forward, I was already moving back, stumbling, losing my footing.
The kid moved with impossible speed—and before I knew what was happening, the hilt of the knife was buried in my lower leg. I didn’t even feel pain. My body was being driven by adrenaline, pushing me to get away from him. I remember falling back. I remember my own trembling hands grasping hold of the handle and pulling out the knife. Red was pooling down my jeans and onto our hardwood floor. The little kids turned around and ran back down the steps into the night, and I watched them in a sort of daze.
They didn’t move like normal.
They stalked down the sidewalk like video game characters. The witch shoved a passing old man before pulling out a gun and pointing it at his head. But she didn’t shoot. The three of them ran off—and it was only when I was watching the top of the girl’s witch hat disappear into the night, when I glimpsed something—or someone—at the corner of my eye.
Before I heard laughter. The tree in front of me moved. At first I thought they were shadow’s. Before the shadows bled into figures. Four of them. I glimpsed the school colours. Blue and Gold. I saw twin ponytails, velvet and blonde-- as well as the tell-tale Sunbeam varsity jacket. The group were laughing, whispering to each other. Not exactly doing a good job of hiding. When they slipped from their hiding place, I recognised Evie. Her fingers gingerly on her nose while intense red pooled down her chin.
The others were the same, swiping at their faces with jacket sleeves. They didn’t seem fazed. The redhead’s gaze was latched onto the retreating children, his lips curling. I could sense he was still tethered to them. He was still commanding them to act out grand theft auto. They had caused the man’s death at the game and had controlled those children.
I wasn’t crazy or delusional. Evie had killed someone by simply shooting imaginary finger guns, and somehow the others were able to bleed into children’s heads, taking them over.
Pulling my phone from my pocket, I heaved out a breath. The pain was starting to hit in waves I had to grit through. I couldn’t move. I was stuck, curled up on my floor. While they laughed.
I was halfway through stabbing 911 into my phone when one of them came over. It was the Korean-American. The one who had been the nicest to me out of all of them. The real smile I remembered was gone, replaced by something inhuman. Something I didn’t want to question.
With his hands stuffed in his varsity jacket pockets, he approached me with mocking eyes, almost an attempt at trying to mimic his old self.
The guy knelt in front of me with a chuckle. “Kids these days, right? They’re animals.”
His voice, no, his words, were hurting me. I felt each one penetrate me like gunshots.
My wound wasn’t bad. That’s what I estimated, anyway. I don’t think the kid had hit anything vital. But I needed the emergency room. I still had one hand grasping at my side, drenched in red.
I managed a hiss, grasping for my phone when he pulled it out of my grasp and waved it in the air. “Fuck off. What did you do to those little kids?” I gritted out, trying to reach for my damn phone. I was starting to feel the pain in my side and it hurt like a mother fucker—dizzying bolts of electricity which felt like waves of boiling hot water slamming into me one by one. I tried to get onto my knees, but he pushed me back down again. The guy cocked his head to the side, confusion creasing his expression.
“Ouch. That must hurt.”
"What did you... what did you do?" I hissed out.
His presence was hurting me. Every time he opened his mouth, it was agony. Somehow, it was worse than the stab-wound. This kind of pain was no other I’d felt before. The type I’d rather die than feel. A cry was clawing at my throat, fight or flight taking over. Again, I tried to move, I tried to get away from him. But he was holding down my arms and prodding at my side before sticking his finger in the cut and twisting. "I didn't do anything, Alex.”
His voice barely hit me when my vision blurred and I screamed. Like a fucking animal, I screamed. But not because his fingers were digging around in my insides.
Because my brain was suddenly boiling, a metal rod piercing my skull and stirring it into a soupy mess. His voice was inside me. It was bleeding into me, taking over me. But not just his voice. The world blurred around me and I was no longer in my doorway, bleeding out against the wall.
Instead, I was moving. I was… I was walking. No, I was being dragged. Except these weren’t my memories. This wasn’t my mind. I could see bare feet beneath me delicately slapping on white tiles. When I looked up, I saw an expanse of white like I was being led straight into the clouds. This was a building. There were glass doors and electronic panels, people in black guarding each one. It took a while for me to gain my senses—or him to gain his.
We could smell something like chlorine and taste rusty coins at the back of our throat. Feel the ice cold tiles against our bare toes. A strange feeling at the back of our head. We kept wanting to run our fingers through our hair, but every time we did, our fingers only touched bare skin. Scuffed and rigged skin. Tight fingers were wrapped around our arm, dragging us further and further into a white oblivion. Until a glass door seemingly appeared out of nowhere.
From now on, I am going to describe his memories very vaguely. I’m just going to tell you what I saw.
The room we walked into reminded me of a classroom—but there were no desks. In front of me were the other members of Sunbeam pressed against the back wall. They faced forwards, their gazes penetrating nothing. But I saw they were trembling. Terrified. The squad were dressed in pale white shorts and t-shirt, ugly red spattering the front. There were still traces of blue and glitter on their faces, ribbons hanging from bedraggled curls.
Their feet were bare and filthy like ours. When we were shoved forwards, we took our place next to Evie who had half of her hair shaved off. Her arms were folded across her cheer uniform, her bare feet tapping a beat against the floor. When a woman with dark red hair held in a strict ponytail entered and asked if either of us wanted to show her what we had learned, Evie eagerly raised her hand. “Okay, Evie.” The woman’s voice was too sweet. Sickly sweet. She gestured for the girl forward. “Show us what you’ve got.”
The door opened, and a man stepped through. His hands were tied in front of him, his eyes blank.
Evie nodded, her eyes set in determination. She cleared her throat. “Shatter.”
Nothing happened.
“Intent, Evie.” The woman said. “It doesn’t matter how you say the word unless you use proper intent. Try again.”
The girl did, growling in frustration.
"Shatter.”
The man’s head flew from his torso suddenly in a river of red, and the girl squeaked in excitement.
While we watched in horror, the rest of the squad gave in to their own despair.
Different days bled into one—and we watched faces change. Heads were shaved. Hair grew back. Fear turned to joy.
A blonde girl exploded into bloody chunks, splattering against the walls.
“Yes!” The redhead high-fived pigtails, the two of them locked into some bizarre handshake. “That’s what I’m TALKING about!”
“Bang!” One of the girls used finger guns, and with each “shot” innocents dropped against the wall one by one, their heads blown through.
She jumped up and down in glee. “Bang, bang, bang!”
“Keep going,” the voice of the woman crackled through the speaker. “You’ve almost got it.”
“Divide.” Pigtails used her pointer finger at an old man who was skewed by an invisible force sending bloody chunks of him to the floor.
"Show off.” The redhead said in a sing-song voice. He was slumped against the back wall using his jersey to wipe blood from his face while the others painted the room scarlet. With simple words of intent and a hand gesture, they were able to take people apart piece by piece.
Pigtails snorted when another “test subject” was brought in. "Oh, you think you can do better?”
“Think I can? I know I can.”
This time he plunged two fingers into his temples. He was centre stage, the others against the back wall with their arms folded.
“Rip it out.”
The test subject’s eyes widened, her trembling hands clawing at her own head, fingernails digging into flesh. “Rip…rip it out?”
His lip curved. “That’s what I said.”
We didn’t see the test subject rip her own brain from her skull. We were already burying our head into our knees and screeching into the floor. Another flash. Like watching a movie.
This time we’re cutting into our wrist with shards of glass. Pulling back fleshy flaps of our flesh, there are two wires entangled with muscle and bone. One red and one blue. “Why won’t you submit?” A sharp growl, and I can feel our body pressed against metal. Our arms are restrained. “Out of all of them, you refuse it.” A hand slaps our face. “You don’t want it!”
He started to laugh.
“You don’t want… control?”
He leaned his face closer. “Tell me to mutilate myself. Tell me to… to tear out my brain stem! That’s the beauty of it! No matter how impossible the order is, it will be completed! Control, my boy. Use it. Do you even understand how much you are going to shape the world? Words! Do you know how powerful they are? When said from the right mouth, with the right intent, they can cause bloodshed, pain and misery-- a despair drowning our already shattered earth. And you will be the centre of it. You will bring this world to its knees, Jason."
"Now, do it. We call it cutting, but you will find familiarity in referring to it as erasure. You can make up your own words if you would like. What matters is the intent.” I feel something slicing into our arm. It’s nothing medical. It’s torture. He plunges something sharp into the same spot and twists the blade until we throw our head back and scream at the ceiling.
“You’re the last one.” The man hissed. “Do it.”
“No.” I heard his—our—voice. “I… I can’t!”
“Do it!”
He’s dragging us again, forcing us down a long winding corridor until we reach another door.
"Drown." The boy - - Jason's-- voice was suddenly in my head. I could sense it was trying to hold back, attempting to peel back whatever power his own words had. But the word came again and again until it was suffocating his mouth. “Drown. Drown. Drown. Drown.” We were standing in the doorway of a smaller room. In the corner there was a figure curled up with their head pressed against the wall.
It was a guy.
I recognised our school colours, a bloodied varsity jacket over shorts and t-shirt. When he lifted his head and twisted to face the boy whose mind I was in, I noticed he had an uncanny resemblance to me. His eyes wide, frightened. They were my mother's.
This guy looked exactly like me.
No, it WAS me.
My eyes were shadowed and haunted.
Like I had been drained of everything I was.
As quickly as the memories came crashing into me, they were yanked away when the guy must have pulled back.
I blinked rapidly, and Jason looked as confused as me. Slowly, he pulled his finger from my cut. The man's voice was in my skull, and it was agonising. I felt the command in my head, my body instantly reacting to... to nothing. I had my hands out, ready to do.... do something.
"That was… just a trick,” He said. “Yeah! Just a trick!”
I found myself nodding, echoing his words. Something warm ran from my nose.
"Just... a trick..." I whispered, the words forced from my lips.
Blood spattered down my chin.
“Louder.” He said.
"JUST A TRICK!" I yelled, the force of the wail sending me my knees, panting. The guy was frowning, seemingly unsure what to do with me.
He wrapped up my wound and told me it wasn’t bad—and it wasn’t. I watched in disbelief as my skin stitched itself back together.
"Go into your kitchen." Jason said, and I felt the power of his words ripping through me like bullets. My body moved on its own, and I got to my feet and stepped into my kitchen. He followed me, grabbing a scarf off of the table.
"Get on your knees." I did, dropping to my knees, my breath in my throat, my mouth sealed shut. I could sense the others in the doorway as he wrapped the scarf around my eyes, the heel of his shoe slamming into my neck forcing me onto my stomach.
"I want you to wait for me to kill you."
His words pierced into me. I did. Even when I knew he was gone, the door slamming shut-- I waited. I waited until the next morning, until I regained control over my own body and pulled the scarf from my eyes. I'm still waiting, my brain in constant panic, twisting around when I'm alone, looking into every corner.
I was roped into going to Friday's game against Harrington. During Sunbeam’s routine, they did it again. They had the crowd's attention, and Evie was mouthing something. I felt her words, sharp like needles cutting into me. But they didn't penetrate. They have done something to the student body. Ever since, I’ve been catching looks around me. Those whose heads they have crawled into. Mindless eyes. Every so often an arm will touch mine, fingers will wrap around my neck. I can hear their feet pitter pattering after me. Those little kids from that night. I keep seeing the little witch girl in the corner of my eye. They’re creating an army who are coming for me once he decides to kill me.
If only I knew what happened to the Sunbeam squad. Maybe I can help them somehow.
But something tells me they’re way past help.
And so am I.
I wonder if one day, I might be allowed a glimpse of my memories. What really happened to me during my freshman year.
And why, ever since going into his mind, I dream of a white room.

Her name was Amelia. Giles had never heard of her, but he could tell that she was strong. With a single swing of her rusty blade, she had easily deflected Eloise the Dark Wizard’s black lightning.
Giles himself could barely even react to it— despite his speed and agility as a Level 57 [Daggermaster], he had only been able to gape in awe as the dark spell shot through the air at him. And yet, Amelia had somehow been able to stop it.
No— she didn’t just stop it. She did so much more. She had intercepted the black lightning bolt, before cutting it in half with a decrepit sword that looked like it could shatter at any moment.
The Flying Blade didn’t comprehend. He couldn’t comprehend it. How did she get here? Did she teleport in with a spell while he was distracted? That was the only explanation.
He rose to his feet as she swept her gaze over her surroundings. The entire battlefield came to a halt to face this third party— every soldier in the convoy had their sword and their bow and their staff aimed at her. Rokh the Bludgeoning Striker raised a pair of metal gauntlets, and Seth the Battlemage conjured another frost broadsword.
The Clawed Hands had been thoroughly defeated— except for Giles himself. Nevertheless, it was not like there was anyone else for the legion of soldiers from the Kingdom of Kal to turn their attention to; they focused their gaze on their lone enemy.
Even Eloise tilted her head curiously to face the brown-haired woman.
“Who are—” the Dark Witch started.
And Amelia blinked as she looked down at Giles. “Wait, you’re not Evan.”
“Evan? You mean the guildmaster?” He stared at her, taking a step back in confusion.
“Yeah— you’re Giles, right?” she said as she helped steady him. “Where’s Evan? I’m here to free him.”
Giles shook his head, glancing back at the armored wagon at the center of the convoy. “He’s locked up over there. But…”
He pursed his lips as he watched Seth take a step forward. The Battlemage was bruised— hurt from the brief scuffle with Giles. And yet, despite the injuries he had sustained, Seth looked ready to go for a round with Amelia.
An armor of ice began to form around him as he grinned. “I have been entrusted by my King to protect the cargo with my life. I will not let you even get close to—”
And Amelia appeared right next to him, with a finger raised to his chest. Seth blinked. Giles stared in shock. The legion of soldiers looked on with wide eyes as she poked his ice armor.
Seth took a step back as his ice armor began to crack— and a moment later, it shattered into thousands of pieces. He looked down in horror as his staff too began to crumble.
“What?” He stared at himself for a moment. And his clothes fell apart next, leaving only his underwear to cover his privates. “H-how…?”
“That was a warning,” Amelia said as she drew back from him. “I’m not going to hold back if you guys get in my way.”
Giles couldn’t believe his eyes— it took some of his best Skills to break through Seth’s ice armor. And yet, she was able to shatter it with just a finger.
Was this an illusion? A trick? Did Giles die, and was he imagining this whole situation up? He couldn’t believe it. But it was happening.
“T-t-that was my [Armor of the Frost Lord]!” Seth exclaimed. He looked down at his shredded robes and broken staff. “And those were A-grade artifacts… how did you…?”
The Battlemage couldn’t comprehend it either. But Amelia didn’t seem to care. She rubbed her chin in thought as she murmured to herself.
“...well, alright, maybe I’ll hold back. I don’t want to accidentally kill everyone, you know?”
Seth gritted his teeth. He raised a hand as a ball of mist coalesced in the palm of his hand. He unleashed a blast of frost at Amelia— the spell engulfing her point-black.
“Take this, you monster!” he screamed. “[Frost Wyvern’s Breath]!”
Giles staggered back as he felt the chilly winds reach him. Even from a distance, he could feel the intensity of the spell that was unleashed— a powerful attack for an A-rank. But as the dust settled, Amelia stepped out of a small crater, completely unscathed.
Eloise narrowed her eyes. Seth stumbled back in horror. Because the brown-haired woman suffered not a single scratch— even her clothes escaped unharmed.
“Are you serious?” she said flatly. “I gave you a chance to give up, and you try this shit? Are you an idiot?”
Giles himself winced from her words. Even though they weren’t direct to him, it still stung— because he knew he would have tried the same thing out of pure disbelief or what was happening.
Seth tried to work his jaw as he stared at her. But nothing came out. She just sighed as she took a step forward.
“Look, if you get out of the way now, I’ll—”
But a booming voice interrupted her. “Oh? Very interesting!”
Rokh laughed wildly as marched forward. He slammed his gauntleted fists together, and a sharp metallic sound rang out. A crimson aura overcame him as he smiled savagely. Eloise just looked on.
“I am Rokh the Bludgeoning Striker!” He smirked as he walked straight up to the brown-haired woman. He raised a fist, ready to swing down at her. “I am going to enjoy pummeling you to death—”
And he was cut off. Quite literally. His head was cut cleanly off in an instant. Blood splattered on the ground as Amelia lowered her blade.
“Must I literally kill every single one of you here to prove my point?” She shook her head as she swept her gaze over the legion of soldiers. “No more warnings— I’m freeing Evan. Don’t get in my way.”
Amelia spun around to face the armored wagon. Seth stumbled back away from her. He looked like he wanted to run— Giles himself wanted to run too in the face of this overwhelming power.
She had killed Rokh the Bludgeoning Striker just like that.
He was a high-leveled captain. He had been the one in charge of the small army Kallistus Kal had led to Windrip. Giles had heard of his fighting prowess. Even though they were of similar level, the [Daggermaster] hadn’t been sure if he could defeat the Bludgeoning Striker.
But Amelia defeated him. She killed him before he could even react. He didn’t even put up a fight. He lay slumped over on the ground, headless as his legion looked on. A susurration swept through their numbers. They whispered amongst themselves.
They looked like they didn’t know what to do. Their leader was dead, and they were lost. They exchanged nervous glances as Amelia strode forward to the armored wagon. She walked past Seth as he gritted his teeth.
And he spun around, raising a sphere of frost. “Don’t let her—” he started.
But Amelia swung back with her sword, cutting his head off without even looking his way. Giles flinched at the suddenness of it. The watching soldiers winced too— reaching their wits’ end. And she glanced dismissively at them.
“I suggest the rest of you run away,” she said simply.
And with that, they shattered. The legion of soldiers ran for it as they cried out in terror. Giles wanted to join them, but he was petrified. He couldn’t even move. He watched as they fled into the distance as the brown-haired woman just sighed.
“Good,” Amelia whispered to herself. “At least those guys have common sense. Now—”
She paused when she saw a figure descend from the sky just before her. Eloise landed right on top of the armored wagon, raising her staff. Amelia massaged her temples.
“Oh my god, please just stop…”
Giles blinked, looking between the Dark Wizard and the brown-haired woman. Neither of them attacked each other. Not just yet.
“I have to admit, I am impressed— no, I am not impressed.” Eloise tilted her head back. “I am absolutely terrified by what I have just witnessed. You slew both Rokh the Bludgeoning Striker and Seth the Battlemage with ease. I can’t lie and say that I am looking forward to facing you in battle.”
Amelia just looked back at her with a deadpan expression. “Then… why don’t you just not do that? It’s very simple— you step to the side, and we’ll all be happy.”
“Unfortunately…” the S-rank mercenary said as she shook her head. “Even if you are quite the monster, I have no choice but to stop you. My contract demands it so.”
“That’s really fucking stupid,” the brown-haired woman sighed, unsheathing her blade once again. “Are you seriously going to be risking your life because of a contract?”
“Yes,”came the response.
Giles watched on as Amelia continued to walk forward, while Eloise raised her staff. He pursed his lips, not knowing what was going to happen next. After all, the Dark Wizard was S-rank in level.
But Amelia? Well… Giles just didn’t know.

Author's Notes:
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This method is still not fully tested. I am not responsible for corrupting your data should you decide to try to follow this guide. Proceed with caution and at your own risk.
I wanted to make a quick post about how to back up worlds and restore them here, since it can be kind of tricky to work out. There's plenty of information already posted online about backing up all your data at once, but there's some subtleties to, say, backing up a number of worlds (so that you can restore old saves which you made with different characters, return to worlds and days you really like, etc. etc.).
In order to back up a world saved in the steam cloud, the steps are as follows:

1. Locate the save data for Don't Starve. For steam users on PC, it's located in C:\Program Files (x86)\Steam\userdata\[USER]\219740\remote
2. There are a number of files in this folder. World data is, I believe, mostly stored in "saveindex" and world files labelled "survival_1", "adventure_2", "shipwrecked_3", and "porkland_4". The general procedure for backing up progress involves backing up this entire folder -- however, this procedure does not allow you to restore or copy worlds without affecting progress in other worlds. For the purposes of this guide, all you need to do is copy the world files, e.g. files with names like "survival_1", "shipwrecked_3", etc. (NOTE: I do not recommend copying files that start with "cave" or "adventure". I have not experimented with these, and results may vary, although I think it should be possible to restore those saves so long as you restore the accompanying "survival" save, but it may require a slightly more elaborate save restoration procedure).
3. Move your copied world files to a new back up folder (e.g. A folder on your desktop named "DontStarveBackups"). At this point, you can rename these files to whatever you'd like, but you should keep track of whether they are "survival" "shipwrecked" or "porkland" files, whether or not they are compatible with other DLCs (i.e. are the RoG files? Are they Shipwrecked or Hamlet compatible?), and the settings preset you're using. I also like to keep track of the day of the file and which character I'm playing (an example filename might be "Wilson_shipwrecked_HAMCompatible_Preset4_106" indicating a Shipwrecked file from day 106 with Wilson that is compatible with Hamlet and uses the settings "preset4").

That's all you need to do to back files up.
Copying and restoring them is a bit trickier. The issue lies in Steam cloud synchronization (which is relatively easy to navigate), and the way some data is stored in "saveindex" and perhaps elsewhere. In particular, it is not enough to simply copy your backup data to your folder and rename it "survival_3", since no save will be recorded as existing in slot 3 under "save index". Here's the steps I recommend taking:

1. Start a new game with the character you'd like to restore to your old world (NOTE: This can be a completely different character, but it should be the character you would like to play as. I.e. it is possible to play as Wigfrid in a world that you build as Wilson, by simply starting a new game as Wigfrid. However, you will not be able to change this character once the save is restored, so you should pick the character you would like to play as).
2. Be sure to keep the settings as close to the original settings you used on the world being restored as possible. If you're trying to restore a Hamlet game, choose "Hamlet". If you're trying to restore a Reign of Giants game, choose "Reign of Giants". Be sure to use the same level of compatibility with SW/HAM as you used in your original save. Worldgen settings should not matter (i.e. branching, looping, density of mobs and objects settings should not matter, since your world will be restored to the state it was in in your original save. I do not know if season length, weather settings, or other ongoing settings are stored in "saveindex" or in your world file, but to be safe it's best to keep them the same between the new world file you're creating and the one you're trying to restore). This is easiest to do using the same settings preset, whose name you should have recorded on your backup file.
3. Once your new world has been generated, save and quit, and exit the game. Right click on Don't Starve in your steam library, and select "Properties". Under "General", uncheck the box "Keep game saves in the Steam Cloud for Don't Starve"
4. Now that the Steam Cloud is disabled, return to your "C:\Program Files (x86)\Steam\userdata\[USER]\219740\remote" directory, and delete the newly created world (e.g. if you created a new Shipwrecked file in the 2nd save slot, delete "shipwrecked_2")
5. Copy and paste the world you'd like to restore into "C:\Program Files (x86)\Steam\userdata\83917878\219740\remote". Rename it to the same name as the file you just deleted (e.g. "shipwrecked_2")
6. WITHOUT RE-ENABLING STEAM CLOUD STORAGE, start up Don't Starve and load your newly created save. Viola! You should find your old world has been restored, complete with your items, status, and day number.
7. Save and quit, and exit Don't Starve. Congratulations, your world is now restored!
8. If you would like to continue storing save data in the Steam Cloud, it is safe to re-enable Steam Cloud storage under "Properties" again. When the cloud re-syncs, the most recently updated files will take precedence. Since you just saved your restored world, this will replace the new world that is saved in the Steam Cloud.

And that's basically it! I have not thoroughly tested this, so, as I said, use at your own risk -- but I think it should work.
Unknowns:

• I do not know what will happen with caves or adventure files. Frankly, I'm still pretty new to Don't Starve and just haven't explored the caves at all yet. It is my belief that if you copy all world files associated with a save (caves, survival, adventure, shipwrecked, porkland, ruins), everything should work and all locations should be restored. However, I have not tested this -- I do not know, for example, if you need to have already generated caves in your new save in order for you to be able to overwrite them with an old cave save. As I experiment more, I may return and update the info on this post. Similarly, I suspect you need to enter Maxwell's door if you want to restore an adventure save, but I do not know for sure.
• I have no idea how conflicting settings between the new world you create and your original world will interact. I believe the original world settings take precedence, but I can't be sure. Exercise caution.

I've been slowly building out a Zigbee network. For routers, I have several Hue bulbs, then several Sonoff S31 Lite's. The S31's seem okay, but not great (my Z2M map always shows zeros between those and my sensors).
I was about to replace them with the Tradfri smart plugs, but saw the new Vindstyrka air quality sensors. Anyone tested or noticed how well they work as Zigbee routers? Just trying to see if I should still get the Tradfri smart plugs, or don't need them if the Vindstyrka's work well. IKEA isn't super far from me but would rather save extra trips (and they don't ship either of these products in small quantities).

We got quoted 15k to replace our traditional HVAC with a heat pump. The house is 1100 sqft single story and the scope of work includes relocating the furnace from the utility closet to the attic, modifying existing duct work, adding 1 return and supply. The model they want to use is the Bryant heat pump 38MURAQ36AA3 3 ton and 40MUAAQ36XA3 for the air handler. Does this quote and model seem like a good deal for the scope of work? Should we go with dual fuel or all electric? No solar on house.