First off I’ve never went to a doctor I have always battled through it in my own. I’m going to make this as quick and straightforward as possible but it’s a lot to unpack. Anyone who reads it all and can give any input I really do appreciate. I honestly don’t always trust doctors and big pharma so looking for advice from people.
-I’m 30 years old and have legit been battling with my brain/body for as long as I can remember. I own a construction company. Moved into a house that is gutted and needs to be fully renovated (with basically me doing all the work. Like literally everything from plans, budget, and the actual work.). So I say this because a lot of people claim they are busy or have a lot to do. Trying not to sound arrogant but I actually have almost an impossible amount of work I do. Business, newborn, house remodel, and the list goes on. I am obsessed with building, designing, engineering, creating things, and being a craftsman.
-Since I was young I battled with not being able to sleep properly (diagnosed with sleep apnea). And my brain is like this machine that moves at a million miles a minute and I honestly can’t control it all the time. I have huge goals and work from the time I open my eyes till whatever hour I crash. If I am completely sober with no caffeine, nicotine, etc. I cannot process my thoughts. It’s a non stop wave of business ideas, work to be done, work coming up, customer relations, networking, materials and job planning, with always a clear view of my vision for the long term. When this happens I become immobile. I will sit on my phone to space out to quiet the thoughts. Procrastinate and refuse to start the work I know needs to be done now. I oversleep and feel beat and tired all day regardless of how much or how little I sleep. I simply can’t do anything.
-I am cursed with intelligence. I’m not saying this as a positive thing necessarily. Someone close to me is a psychologist who diagnoses autism and they believe after some testing I might be on the spectrum. Take it for what it is but scored 130 on two different types of IQ tests. I don’t tolerate things like small talk, I am fairly quiet (when sober), I do not want to make friends or talk to people who have nothing to offer me (business owners/entrepreneurs, people who are masters of their craft, even people who are considered dreamers and have ideas and goals) are all people I will attach myself too because I find they are the only ones I can have a real conversation with. Relationships are very difficult because they tend to think I’m emotionless. I just have a very direct grasp on my feelings and I can handle them. - I cannot sit on a computer and be productive without an amphetamine. I cannot read a book and retain a single word of it. I’m reading but my thoughts are elsewhere.

Anyone who reads it all and can give any input I really do appreciate. I honestly don’t always trust doctors and big pharma so looking for advice from real people.
-I’m 30 years old and have legit been battling with my brain/body for as long as I can remember. I own a construction company. Moved into a house that is gutted and needs to be fully renovated (with basically me doing all the work. Like literally everything from plans, budget, and the actual work.). So I say this because a lot of people claim they are busy or have a lot to do. Trying not to sound arrogant but I actually have almost an impossible amount of work I do. Business, newborn, house remodel, and the list goes on. I am obsessed with building, designing, engineering, creating things, and being a craftsman.
-Since I was young I battled with not being able to sleep properly (diagnosed with sleep apnea). And my brain is like this machine that moves at a million miles a minute and I honestly can’t control it all the time. I have huge goals and work from the time I open my eyes till whatever hour I crash. If I am completely sober with no caffeine, nicotine, etc. I cannot process my thoughts. It’s a non stop wave of business ideas, work to be done, work coming up, customer relations, networking, materials and job planning, with always a clear view of my vision for the long term. When this happens I become immobile. I will sit on my phone to space out to quiet the thoughts. Procrastinate and refuse to start the work I know needs to be done now. I oversleep and feel beat and tired all day regardless of how much or how little I sleep. I simply can’t do anything.
-I am cursed with intelligence. I’m not saying this as a positive thing necessarily. Someone close to me is a psychologist who diagnoses autism and they believe after some testing I might be on the spectrum. Take it for what it is but scored 130 on two different types of IQ tests. I don’t tolerate things like small talk, I am fairly quiet (when sober), I do not want to make friends or talk to people who have nothing to offer me (business owners/entrepreneurs, people who are masters of their craft, even people who are considered dreamers and have ideas and goals) are all people I will attach myself too because I find they are the only ones I can have a real conversation with. Relationships are very difficult because they tend to think I’m emotionless. I just have a very direct grasp on my feelings and I can handle them. - I cannot sit on a computer and be productive without an amphetamine. I cannot read a book and retain a single word of it. I’m reading but my thoughts are elsewhere.

Let me start by saying I’ve always fought this battle on my own and never talked to a doctor. Stupid. I really don’t want to take any medications but I think it’s time to face reality before I lose everything.
Anyone who reads it all and can give any input I really do appreciate. I honestly don’t always trust doctors and big pharma so looking for advice from people with experience in these drugs.
-I’m 30 years old and have legit been battling with my brain/body for as long as I can remember. I own a construction company. Moved into a house that is gutted and needs to be fully renovated (with basically me doing all the work. Like literally everything from plans, budget, and the actual work.). So I say this because a lot of people claim they are busy or have a lot to do. Trying not to sound arrogant but I actually have almost an impossible amount of work I do. Business, newborn, house remodel, and the list goes on. I am obsessed with building, designing, engineering, creating things, and being a craftsman.
-Since I was young I battled with not being able to sleep properly (diagnosed with sleep apnea). And my brain is like this machine that moves at a million miles a minute and I honestly can’t control it all the time. I have huge goals and work from the time I open my eyes till whatever hour I crash. If I am completely sober with no caffeine, nicotine, etc. I cannot process my thoughts. It’s a non stop wave of business ideas, work to be done, work coming up, customer relations, networking, materials and job planning, with always a clear view of my vision for the long term. When this happens I become immobile. I will sit on my phone to space out to quiet the thoughts. Procrastinate and refuse to start the work I know needs to be done now. I oversleep and feel beat and tired all day regardless of how much or how little I sleep. I simply can’t do anything.
-I am cursed with intelligence. I’m not saying this as a positive thing necessarily. Someone close to me is a psychologist who diagnoses autism and they believe after some testing I might be on the spectrum. Take it for what it is but scored 130 on two different types of IQ tests. I don’t tolerate things like small talk, I am fairly quiet (when sober), I do not want to make friends or talk to people who have nothing to offer me (business owners/entrepreneurs, people who are masters of their craft, even people who are considered dreamers and have ideas and goals) are all people I will attach myself too because I find they are the only ones I can have a real conversation with. Relationships are very difficult because they tend to think I’m emotionless. I just have a very direct grasp on my feelings and I can handle them. - I cannot sit on a computer and be productive without an amphetamine. I cannot read a book and retain a single word of it. I’m reading but my thoughts are elsewhere.
Does adhd fit?

Currently for orbital barrages, we have 3 but essentially there are two. The first, is the small caliber 120mm orbital barrage. Essentially this is a mortar barrage that saturates an area with continuous fire. The pair of stratagems for the second are both 380mm orbital bombardments, comprising of slower more individually devastating rounds either in a general area (Orbital 380mm barrage) and in a specific direction (Orbital walking barrage). There is a substantial divide between these caliber of orbital barrages that opens up space for a 3rd, intermediate option.
The two gun calibers can be viewed as destroyer and battleship’s from the era of Naval warfare our predecessors engaged in respectively. Logically, this would dictate a cruiser class of bombardment, but there are several potential options here each with their own drawbacks. If we wanted a simple middle ground, 250mm orbital barrage would be the exact middle point between our existing caliber of weapons but that isn’t a commonly used tube artillery size.
Light cruisers from the previously mentioned era of Naval warfare frequently carried guns in the 152.4-155mm range, with increased power over the 120’s and only a moderate drop in rate of fire. But this caliber of weapon doesn’t really make for a distinct jump from the 120mm barrage and might simply cause an issue where one is outright better at the same role. As such, I would propose not adding a barrage of these calibres. It simply isn’t different enough to for Super Earth to justify a whole new manufacturing sector for.
Heavy cruisers however packed a wide range of gun calibres, depending on design philosophy and doctrine. While the most common gun was that of the 203mm caliber, others using 180mm existed, with even concepts of 240mm guns on late mockups of prototype heavy cruisers. Additionally, this caliber was used on the T92 HMC (albeit this self propelled gun never saw service and was cancelled before even entering testing phases). On top of this, the SEAF Artillery piece appears to be of a similar caliber, easily surpassing the 155mm mark of common field artillery, and would allow for seamless integration from a logistical standpoint.
While not perfectly between the prior barrage guns, a 240mm orbital barrage could nicely fill in the gap between an area denial tool the way the 120mm can effectively be used, and the fortification breaker of the 380mm barrage. Conceptually, this stratagem would ideally be used for Bug Breach suppression, Terminid nest and Automaton based of small and medium sizes, side objectives such as shriekers, or to deteriorate larger forces of heavy targets (Tanks, chargers etc). In more practical terms, it would allow Super Destroyers to provide a medium fire support option allowing for more profitable use of Helldiver and Eagle assets. As mentioned above, it appears to be the caliber of gun found in our SEAF Artillery, allowing for interchangeable logistics and retaining Super Earth manufacturing lines instead of requiring new or modified production lines. I happily offer my own Super Destroyer as a testbed for any potential weapons of this nature, and may Liberty guide your hand

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It started with a whisper, a shiver of information that slithered through the corridors of the CIA like a cold, uninvited guest. I was a senior analyst, tasked with sifting through the static and noise of global intelligence. But this—this was different. It was 2009 when the first document crossed my desk, a classified report from the Global Access Program. The title was innocuous: “Unidentified Aerial Phenomena – Preliminary Analysis.” But the content… it was nothing short of extraordinary.
The initial report detailed sightings of craft with capabilities far beyond our own. These weren’t the erratic, drunken movements of weather balloons or the technological marvels of hostile nations. These were intelligent, deliberate maneuvers, the kind that hinted at minds far advanced from ours. It was chilling, but it was only the beginning.
As weeks turned into months, the trickle of information became a flood. Documents stamped with the highest levels of classification described encounters, recoveries, and, most disturbingly, autopsies. The recovered bodies weren’t the little green men of popular culture. They were eerily humanoid, yet undeniably otherworldly. Their skin had a silicon-like quality, translucent and tough, and their eyes—large, dark, and haunting—seemed to pierce through the veil of secrecy we so desperately tried to maintain.
I was part of a small, compartmentalized team, tasked with understanding the implications of these findings. The government’s approach was twofold: reverse-engineer the technology and determine the intentions of these visitors. But as our understanding grew, so did our fear.
One evening, after hours of staring at grainy footage of a UFO darting through the sky over a desolate military base, I received a call. The voice on the other end was panicked, speaking in hushed, frantic tones. It was one of our field operatives, stationed at a classified recovery site. They had just intercepted a transmission. It wasn’t human.
The transmission was a distress signal, but not one of desperation. It was a call to arms. These beings, it seemed, were not just explorers. They were scouts, and their mission was not benign. The transmission hinted at a hive mind, a collective consciousness that controlled these entities. They were here to assess, to probe, and to prepare. For what, we could only speculate.
Days later, another recovery operation took place. A craft was shot down over the Nevada desert, and the bodies retrieved told a horrifying story. They were connected, biologically and technologically, to this hive mind. When one entity was captured, the others knew. When one died, they all felt it. The implications were staggering. We were not just dealing with isolated visitors; we were confronting a unified front.
The more we learned, the more paranoid our superiors became. Orders came down to contain the information at all costs. Whistleblowers were silenced, dissenters disappeared. But the truth was too big to contain. The technology we recovered was decades, if not centuries, ahead of our own. Anti-gravity propulsion, energy sources that defied our understanding of physics, biological materials that healed and adapted.
And then came the darkest revelation. The autopsies revealed something even more unsettling. These beings had genetic material strikingly similar to our own. They weren’t just visitors; they were progenitors. We were their experiment, their creation. The implications shattered every paradigm we held dear. Religion, science, history—all of it was called into question.
As I sit here, penning this confession, I know my time is limited. They will come for me, as they have come for others. But the truth must be known. We are not alone, and we never have been. Our governments have hidden this from us, not out of malice, but out of fear. Fear of the unknown, fear of the truth, fear of the inevitable.
To you who reads this, understand this: the veil has been lifted. The shadows hold secrets that are darker and more profound than we can imagine. And the truth, once revealed, will change everything.
This is my testament. Believe it, or don’t. But know this: the world is not as it seems. The universe is vast, and we are not the apex of creation. We are but a fragment in a grand, terrifying design.
The truth is out there, waiting to be uncovered. And when it is, the world will never be the same.
The progenitors, as we came to call them, had motives far more complex and far-reaching than simple exploration or conquest. The truth unraveled slowly, like an intricate tapestry revealing a grand design. It began with fragments of intercepted communications and culminated in a terrifying, awe-inspiring understanding of our place in the universe.
The progenitors did not come from a distant star merely to observe. They were architects of life, and Earth was their grand experiment. Our planet, teeming with diverse life forms, was a controlled environment, a living laboratory designed for a singular purpose: evolution.
From the ancient texts to modern scientific discoveries, we’ve always sought answers to our origins. The progenitors provided those answers, but they came at a cost. We discovered that they seeded countless worlds, each designed to test different variables of life. Earth was unique due to its biodiversity and its potential for intelligent life.
The genetic similarities between us and the progenitors weren’t just a coincidence. They were deliberate. By seeding their own DNA into the primordial soup of Earth, they ensured a certain path of evolution. Our intelligence, our creativity, our very civilization were results of their intricate design. We were, quite literally, their children, bred and cultivated to reach a specific level of advancement.
But why? The reasons were as complex as they were chilling. The progenitors were not just scientists; they were facing an existential crisis. Their civilization, once spanning galaxies, was in decline. They needed a solution to prevent their extinction, and their answer was found in genetic diversity and adaptability.
Earth and its human inhabitants were part of a grander scheme: to evolve a species capable of assimilating their consciousness, their essence, into a new form. Our rapid technological advancement was not just a natural progression but was subtly influenced to accelerate our development. They needed us to reach a level where we could understand and perhaps even merge with their advanced consciousness.
We learned through decrypted communications and rare encounters that the progenitors were a hive mind, an interconnected collective consciousness. Over millennia, they had lost individuality, becoming a singular entity spread across countless biological hosts. This form of existence had its limits, and they sought to evolve beyond those constraints. They aimed to create a hybrid species—humans with the potential to host their collective consciousness.
This wasn’t just about survival; it was about transcendence. By merging with us, they hoped to achieve a new state of being, combining their ancient wisdom and collective power with our adaptability and creativity. We were to be the vessels for their next evolution.
However, this plan wasn’t without resistance. Among the progenitors, there were factions. Some believed in the purity of their collective consciousness, resisting the idea of merging with what they considered lesser beings. These internal conflicts spilled over into their actions on Earth, leading to sporadic yet significant interventions in our history.
As our understanding grew, so did the dread. The government’s attempts to contain this knowledge were born out of sheer terror. How could they explain to the world that we were bred for a purpose beyond our control? That our creators intended to use us to save themselves?
The intercepted transmissions became increasingly desperate. The progenitors’ time was running out, and their interest in Earth intensified. Reports of sightings and encounters surged. The military engaged in numerous clandestine operations to intercept and study these beings, leading to an underground war of sorts.
And then came the ultimate revelation: the progenitors were already among us. Their advanced technology allowed them to blend in, to influence, and to manipulate. The rise and fall of civilizations, the sudden leaps in technology, the inexplicable events in history—they were all part of the progenitors’ intricate plan to guide us towards the inevitable merging.
The truth, when finally pieced together, was more than earth-shattering. It was paradigm-shattering. We were not alone, nor were we masters of our fate. We were pawns in a cosmic game, engineered for a destiny we had yet to fully comprehend. The progenitors, our creators, were not gods but beings driven by survival and evolution, using us as their means to an end.
As I document this, I know the implications are beyond comprehension. The world must know, not to incite fear, but to understand. We stand at the brink of an unprecedented revelation, one that will redefine our existence and our place in the universe.
This is the truth, unfiltered and unvarnished. We are the progeny of ancient architects, part of a grand design stretching across the stars. Our future is intertwined with theirs, and the choices we make now will determine the fate of both our species.

Sorry this is long... I feel like I'm back where I started 3 years ago and the situation is urgent.
Context: 3 years ago I stopped being able to eat normally. the smallest bits filled me up and made me feel sick, and I started rapidly losing weight. My PCP referred me to a GI doctor. The GI doctor, sadly, seemed under the impression that I had an eating disorder. For the next year, I proceeded to essentially starve, while begging people to believe I was not anorexic. I begged to see another GI doc, but per clinic guidelines this was not allowed. I eventually got down to a BMI of 14.8 and could barely get out of bed. My mom had to leave work to come stay with me. Finally, I stopped being able to even drink water or pass any stool. I went to urgent care and there was an impaction in my rectum. Upon clearing that and then a course of magnesium citrate, I could eat again.
Since them, I have been on miralax 3x daily. That worked great. I gained 20 pounds and got back to a borderline normal weight. Amazing. My GI doctor realized I wasn't anorexic, but still provided no real advice other than take miralax the rest of your life, and the root cause of this doesn't matter. I had an anorectal manometry, and an MR defecogram (both of which I had to beg for as dr said was unnecessary). They diagnosed me with dyssenergic defacation , a form of pelvic floor dysfunction. P.S. I did ask for a sitz marker test, but dr denied saying it's not necessary. I had a gastric emptying study (it was normal). Dietary changes make no difference.
GI doc says I have pelvic floor dysfucntion so that must be what's causing this. I finally managed to see another GI doc who said I likely have a separate motility issue, but said it doesn't matter what or why as long as miralax is helping. I have no idea which is true.
I thought I'd been managing with miralax, but in the past week the same is happening again. I can barely eat or drink anything. I can barely pass any stool despite miralax 3x daily. I tried Senna today but nothing is happening. My belly is horribly distinded. There is incredible pressure in my upper right colon. I feel virtually no hunger and can barely eat or drink.
Another problem I face now is that, I assume related, is I get hypoglycemia all the damn time. On a bad day i can get it 4-5 times per day. And not slightly low, but dangerous low - a month ago I woke up and my blood sugar was 40 mg/dl and I could barely get out of bed. I have similarly had countless dr appointments expressing my concerns, especially given that I live alone, but there seems to be little concern. I assume because no one believes me. My last endocrinologist quit. I finally got another one, who cut me off one sentence into the appointment, told me I was wrong and that I've never had hypoglycemia, that my glucometer was inaccurate, and that even my BLOOD TESTS FROM THE FUCKING HOSPITAL were wrong because I live in a rural location and they don't know what they are doing. I proceeded to sit there for the full 40-min appointment and listen to her rant on about how she does not believe I deal with blood sugar issues, and how women get low blood sugar on their periods so that must be it. Any time I tried to speak she cut me off immediately and kept going. i thought of killing myself after that appointment.
INTERESTINGLY - now that I can barely eat, my blood sugar is not falling horrifically low. Maybe the food is staying in my colon long enough to be digested? I don't know.
Does anyone have advice? This is a horrible pit of misery.

# suspended the primary node kill -s STOP  # After the service is damaged, MongoDB should stepDown ReplicaSet in a few seconds to ten seconds. # After the stepDown is complete, the service can automatically switch the connection to the new working primary node, without manual intervention, the service will return to normal. # The reliability of the Mongo Client Driver is generally verified here. 

mongod --setParameter enableTestCommands=1 

db.adminCommand({ configureFailPoint: "failCommand", mode: { "times": 1, }, data: {errorCode: 2, failCommands: ["find"]} }); 

 if t.backend.hooks != nil { // gofail: var commitBeforePreCommitHook struct{} t.backend.hooks.OnPreCommitUnsafe(t) // gofail: var commitAfterPreCommitHook struct{} } 

git clone git@github.com:etcd-io/etcd.git cd etcd # generate failpoint relative code make gofail-enable # compile etcd bin file make build # Restore code make gofail-disable 

# enable http endpoint to control the failpoint GOFAIL_HTTP="127.0.0.1:22381" ./bin/etcd 

curl afterCommit= afterStartDBTxn= afterWritebackBuf= applyBeforeOpenSnapshot= beforeApplyOneConfChange= beforeApplyOneEntryNormal= beforeCommit= beforeLookupWhenForwardLeaseTimeToLive= beforeLookupWhenLeaseTimeToLive= beforeSendWatchResponse= beforeStartDBTxn= beforeWritebackBuf= commitAfterPreCommitHook= commitBeforePreCommitHook= compactAfterCommitBatch= compactAfterCommitScheduledCompact= compactAfterSetFinishedCompact= compactBeforeCommitBatch= compactBeforeCommitScheduledCompact= compactBeforeSetFinishedCompact= defragBeforeCopy= defragBeforeRename= raftAfterApplySnap= raftAfterSave= raftAfterSaveSnap= raftAfterWALRelease= raftBeforeAdvance= raftBeforeApplySnap= raftBeforeFollowerSend= raftBeforeLeaderSend= raftBeforeSave= raftBeforeSaveSnap= walAfterSync= walBeforeSync=http://127.0.0.1:22381 

# In beforeLookupWhenForwardLeaseTimeToLive failoint sleep 10 seconds curl -XPUT -d'sleep(10000)' # peek failpoint status curl sleep(1000)http://127.0.0.1:22381/beforeLookupWhenForwardLeaseTimeToLivehttp://127.0.0.1:22381/beforeLookupWhenForwardLeaseTimeToLive 

I Accepted a Job to Film on the Dark Web
Man, I am pumped to tell you chronically online content addicts my story. Wait is that too mean of an intro? Will this get taken down for harassment since I painted too accurate a picture of the people on this site? Sorry, everyone, I’m sure you all smell like an expensive bakery and have touched grass this morning. Anyway, I promise I have something interesting. It even involves the dark web you uncreative writers cream yourselves over! I mean, totally real people speaking about their strangely similar experiences. Okay, fine I’ll stop bullying you through the screen before you click off.
This all started when I was seven years old and my parents were killed in front of me in an anti-indigenous hate crime, but let's be real you don’t care. I’m just some annoying Cherokee kid with dead parents so I’ll skip to the good parts. I spent years in an orphanage, gradually becoming more interested in death and violence. As bad as it is, I went out of my way to expose myself to that content in the hopes of desensitizing myself. Which ended up working too well, since now I’m obsessed with causing and viewing pain, though I don’t find any joy in hurting myself.
I got adopted at twelve and after a few months of staying at my new family’s home on the reservation, I went with them to a state sweatier than the average Reddit user, California. Long story short, both of my caretakers, whom I referred to as Uncle and Auntie because they could never be my parents, died. Leaving me in the care of their older son, who I call cousin. I’m not stupid enough to give up any real names, so I’ll call him Brick, cause he’s as dumb as one. He was in his early 20s when he was tasked with taking care of me and is the world’s worst excuse for a babysitter.
I’m almost always alone at the apartment, with him only coming by to drop off supplies and stay for a few hours so the neighbors don’t get too worried. Unless I get in trouble at school, then he’d suddenly give a shit. It's useful because he doesn't about the gory stuff I look at, but some display of interest would be nice. Oh well, ninety percent of the population sucks so he’s just part of the majority. Now, with that said, you’ll be able to understand the perfect storm that led me here. During my time on the deep web, I found a particular website that caught my eye. They had new footage relatively consistently and they were the easiest for me to access since I didn't go too far into the dark web, especially with all the honey pots lying around.
I even bought a couple of files for myself to study and admire. One thing irritated me though, the cameraman. He was always sobbing, breathing, shaking, or some combination of those. It seriously killed the vibe of the killings. Something I commented on under many videos, often saying I would do a better job filming. A choice that in hindsight was me asking to end up in one of those recordings. I didn't think anything of it at the time. I was mostly the only one who commented but I was sure they wouldn't care. I was embarrassingly wrong.
I was staying up like usual, but it was past one AM on a school night, and back then that was a lot so I tried to sleep. Closing my eyes, tossing and turning, the works. I had just started drifting off when I heard the front door open. I remained calm but immediately found it weird since Brick never showed up this late. The thuds of the individual's feet grew louder as they got closer to my bedroom. I tried to convince myself it wasn't a stranger, especially since they got in with ease, but I knew that was wishful thinking.
They hummed as they opened my door. My dumbass had left it unlocked. I remained on my side, trying to look like I was asleep. They turned on the flashlight of their phone, shining it in my face. It was hard but I stayed still while they traced it over my features. I could tell they were smiling as they clicked their tongue.
“Heh, I knew it was a brat,” they whispered to themselves, pulling tangles out of my hair. Something I struggled not to groan from. They pulled up the hair over my ear and got so close spit got on my ear lobe.
“I know you’re awake kid,” they murmured, putting a blade to my neck. I let them grab my shoulder and move me onto my back, I knew how to fight but I wasn't about to take that big a risk with the position they had me in.
“You think you’re so cool saying you can do better than our guy.” they snickered, kneeling, their flashlight still shining in my face.
“Do you seriously believe that?” they questioned, moving the light away.
“Yeah, I do.” I stood my ground, they might have been intimidating but I wasn't gonna let that stop me from being honest.
“I wouldn't sound like I’m gonna piss myself every time it gets gory. I’m confident I could get better footage too, getting up close is something I’ve fantasized about.”
They clicked their tongue again and ran their finger over the bridge of my nose.
”Well, I know you’re a big fan of what we do, and you’re confidence makes me think you got something to back those claims up, so how’d you like a deal?”
I was surprised by how civil they were being aside from the touching and weapon against my throat.
“What kind of deal?” I asked, for all I knew this guy wanted me to lick their feet or some weird shit like that. They placed a finger underneath my eye, tracing a half moon with their nail.
“You have till this Friday to film a video of you killing an animal and put it on a flash drive that I’ll pick up here. If it impresses me and the crew we’ll hire ya with a handsome salary.” They began, moving their hand down to my cheek.
“But if you don't show, or it doesn't meet our standards, then I’m fucking up one of the parts of your face.” They warned, pinching my skin harshly.
“And if I say no to this deal?”
They put their hand over my mouth, scratching my lips.
“That’s cute, if you say no I’ll just slit your throat.” they grinned.
“Or rip it open with my teeth if you got a preference,” they smirked, before running their tongue across their sharp teeth.
“Okay, since I have no choice I’ll go with it, but I’m telling you now I can give you something way better than what you likely expect of me.” I prefaced, looking into their sunken eyes. They scratched my scalp, including the side of my head that was shaved.
“Good choice, I’ll be back to pick it up and if you're not here I’ll assume you don’t have the video. I genuinely wish you luck, because you’ll need it.” they removed the blade from my neck and walked away. I sat still for a few minutes in the dark, processing what had happened and wondering how they got into my apartment with such ease. I was confident I could blow their sniveling excuse of a cameraman out of the water, but I was worried about the people I was getting caught up with.
Sure, I had been on a lot of gore sites over the years but I was always just watching and occasionally commenting. Compared to most in the scene I wasn't much of a threat. I could defend myself and have contemplated killing for years but I hadn't murdered anyone or worse. Plus, I am part of way too many targeted groups to not be constantly at risk. Teenage, fem-leaning, two-spirit, indigenous kid with trauma? Yeah, I might as well be walking sign screaming “Hate crime me”.
So yeah, there was a lot to worry about. Regardless, I couldn't let that fear hold me back. I had a job to do and a group of sickos to appease. The next morning was rough, I got no sleep cause I’d spent all night brainstorming. I barely mustered the energy to change and drank straight mouthwash instead of brushing my teeth. Slogging onto the bus with drool on my cheek, I went to the back like usual. No one sat there cause, the seats were extra worn down, and I scared off anyone who attempted to with my active, rabies-infected bitch face. That day was different though.
I blanked on his name and where I knew him from, but I recognized his wavy hair and prominent curved nose. He glanced at each seat on the bus, before somehow settling on my area. He tried to give me space but ultimately seated himself beside me after realizing it was the only spot that didn't look like it would give him cancer. I glared at him as I did with everyone, but it didn't phase him.
“You know you could pick anywhere else right?” I murmured. He stared at the floor, then at me.
“I’m aware, but a few months ago I started a mission to sit on every part of this bus, and this is the last place.” he smiled, his lips softly curving at the sides.
“What’s the point of that?”
His mouth moved into a more neutral position, but his eyes kept smiling.
“I just thought it would be neat to see the same place from a bunch of different perspectives.” he took out his phone and snapped a photo from the point of view where he was sitting. Maybe my sleepiness made my bitch face less effective, cause he hadn't shown a hint of fear, which kind of annoyed me.
“That’s cool I guess, but I wouldn't do that if I were you. I’ve done some back here alone that would make your skin crawl.” in hindsight my attempt at unnerving him just made me sound like a pervert, which is probably why he held back laughter. Trying to hide a chuckle by clearing his throat.
“Hey, it's not my business what you do, no matter how Haram it is. It’s your life so that’s between you and whatever you believe in. Just don’t shake hands with me.” he joked, playfully putting his hands up. Strangely, I remembered his name at that moment.
“Oh shit, you’re Abdul! We have art together.” I sat up, haphazardly slamming my hand down on my leg.
“Uh yeah, I’ve seen some of your paintings, they’re pretty cool. I like the way you texture them, I’m trying to work on that.” he complimented, seeming more weirded out by my sudden energy than my accidental insinuation. I felt a little stupid for yelling his name but decided not to dwell on it.
“Thanks, you’re stuff is nice, and you’re good at shading.”
He stretched his arms while thanking me. We talked for a few more minutes, taking jabs at each other throughout. Turns out he was better at being an asshole than his artsy charismatic appearance made me think. The thing setting our insults apart being that you could tell he was a loving person underneath. It was the nicest conversation I had with anyone in a while. Though he could tell I was tired so he quieted down, letting me sleep, waking me when we got to school. We went our separate ways until the last two periods we shared. All that time, I spent my remaining energy plotting how I was going to handle the video. What I’d kill, record with, and how to dispose of the evidence. It was a lot to consider, but through three classes I devised a plan.
I’d find a stray around my apartment complex and take it out in my room. Record it on a portable camera since I broke the ones on my phone, no, I will not be answering how that happened. Then once I had my footage I’d put the body in a trash bag, throw it in the complex’s garbage, and clean the blood off my floor. It didn't seem like Brick would come by so he wasn't a factor I thought I’d have to consider. The plan was almost too easy, but I decided to believe in Occam’s razor. I got so lost in thought that by the time I reached Art, which was my second-to-last period, I didn't process that we were moving seats.
“She called your name,” Abdul reminded me. Our teacher placed us next to each other at our four-person table. The two girls sitting with us were already friends, so I didn't bother to say anything, but I was interested in talking to him more.
“So, what do you think of this assignment?” He shrugged, taking out his sketchbook.
“I’m not that good at drawing people, but the idea of combining two people’s faces into a portrait seems interesting. Any ideas on who you’ll pick?”
“Probably the members of the music duo Brain Tumor, they’re my favorite artists and they both look weird as hell.”
“Wow way to talk about your favorites, if that’s what you say about them I can‘t imagine what you have to say about me.” he joked, pulling up reference pictures.
“First, it’s not an insult, second I don’t have anything to say about you. Brain and Tumor have features and styles that make them stand out. Sure they’re ugly, but it just adds to their visual charm. Hot people are boring, there’s nothing to pick at.” I explained, unzipping my bag.
“Oh, so you’re saying you think I’m hot.”
His comment wasn’t serious but it kind of got to me.
“Shit, that’s not what I meant, I was trying to say you’re boring. All hot people are boring, but not all boring people are hot, okay?” I explained, flipping to a clean page.
“Alright, but if I’m so bland then why talk to me?”
I hesitated, contemplating how much of a dick I was gonna be.
“Because it means you probably need some spice in your life, which I can provide.”
He began sketching a head on his paper.
“I like spices, but I feel like you’re the kind of person to dump a cabinet’s worth onto me.”
I flicked my pencil over to his side of the desk, putting on a mocking grin.
“Aww, you scared I’m gonna get you into trouble?”
He picked up the pencil and started using it, putting his on my side.
“No, ‘cause I’m good at setting boundaries. I’m more concerned that you’ll get annoyed with how unafraid of you I am.”
I stared at him for a moment, I hadn't expected to hear that.
“Jeez, man you didn't have to read me like that.”
He shrugged, observing the red paint from past projects that lay on my pencil.
“It's not hard to figure out, just this morning you were trying to push me away on the bus. Lucky, or unlucky, for you I want you to have a friend and you seem like a fun person.”
“Wait are you saying I have no friends?” I squinted at him.
“Well, do you?”
I didn't answer.
“If your response is silence I suggest you take up my offer.”
I was stunned, to be honest. No one had offered to be my friend since 6th grade, and that didn't last long. Of course, I accepted it, but for the rest of the period, there was an awkwardness in my mind. As pathetic as it sounds I wasn't used to others genuinely enjoying my company like he did. Which was partly by design cause I get joy out of scaring people away, but still. I forgot how it felt to have conversations about normal things like art. He had such a nice smile too, usually when I see a grin I want to slap it off, but I liked his. His voice was also nice, it’s hard to describe what in particular but it was easy on the ears.
Okay, I’m starting to get off-topic. I’ll skip to the important part. Toward the end of class, he started talking about how he was interested in filmmaking and got a portable video camera as a gift at last year’s Eid. He didn't have it on him, but he showed me a picture.
“Heh, that’s funny, I bought the same one a month ago.” I pointed out.
“Yeah, it's a popular model, I’m still getting the hang of it though cause I’m so used to using my phone.”
“Well, maybe I could bring you over to my place or vice versa after school and I can help you out.” I suggested.
He smiled, putting his phone back in his pocket.
“I thought you said you’ve only had it for a month? You know I can always look up tutorials from trained professionals.” he reminded me with a notable smugness that I'd used with him before.
“Well those guys are stuffy and I’m a fast learner.”
He redirected his attention back to his page, picking his pencil up.
“Alright, I suggest we go somewhere public instead. You’re not exactly the kind of person I want to bring home to my parents right away. Plus they always need to meet my friends and their guardians before I hang out at their home.”
I gave an exaggerated sigh, stretching my back.
“Aw man, looks like we can’t get high in my murder pit during our first hangout.”
He didn't respond for a solid few seconds.
“Wait, you do know I'm joking right?”
He shrugged, the smile in his eyes appearing again.
“I mean, one of those things is a little less believable than the other.” he snickered, and I laughed with him.
We set up a time and a date, which is where I screwed myself. He ended up being busy with projects from his other classes and family which just left us with Friday, the same day I had to submit the video. Now, did I tell him I wouldn't be able to make it? No, of course not, because I decided to be stupid and even more overconfident. I said that I’d one hundred percent be able to hang out with him after school like I didn't have a mutilator who was going to drop by my place at an unknown time.
The rest of the day went over fine but that bad timing led me to feel like a dick later. When I got home I was able to write out my plan, even sketching a few specifics of what I’d do. It was more exciting than when I’d been brainstorming, but this is when the gravity of the situation began to set in. When I said I’d fantasized about killings I meant it. I mean my teddy with twenty-five stab wounds should say enough. Regardless this would be the first time real blood was on my hands.
It made me feel powerful, but a little afraid. I’ve heard stories of people thinking that it would be an awesome experience and then feeling like shit. I doubted I’d be one of those people but still. Plus, I didn't exactly trust the guy who gave me this job. There was a good chance that this whole situation was rigged and they’d kill me no matter how good the video was. Or worse turn me into the feds and expose my collection. Honestly, if that happened I’d probably eat a shot to avoid going to jail. Wait, can I say that on this platform? Okay to the mods, that was a joke, I want to live a long life. Ugh, I’m doing a terrible job of staying on track. The point is there was a lot up in the air despite it being a matter of life or death.
I knew I’d go through with it but it was still a lot less straightforward than it initially seemed. I wracked my brain to remember where most of the cats stayed and tried to come up with a good way to lure one without raising suspicion. This also proved harder than first thought because I didn't think to account for the cat man, an old guy who lived alone and fed all the cats in our dingy complex while also housing a few. Knowing how obsessive he was he’d probably notice if one of them disappeared. Then again not all the cats return consistently or at all. It makes more sense that he’d think one of them was run over rather than slaughtered. It was getting late again so I rested my head for a moment, a bad move cause I ended up falling asleep at my desk. Not even changing out of the clothes I’d worn before, I woke up late and barely caught the bus the next morning.
I went to my usual spot but Abdul had already taken it. He patted the area next to it, which he’d covered in a towel, a smart move knowing how nasty it was. People gave me a few dirty looks as normal, which I smiled at. I stretched, my mind slightly less out of it than the previous morning.
“Uh, you do realize that-”
“Yeah, I know I’m wearing the same clothes.”
Abdul looked me up and down, his eyes remaining soft, but with a mix of concern and judgment. He set his backpack down and took off his sweater handing it to me.
“Dude what are you-”
“Look I don't know what led to you not being able to change but I think you should at least have a fresh top.”
I was surprised he was offering me something to wear but I took it.
“Uh, thanks, I’ll change into it later.”
He nodded as I put it in my backpack.
“You know you didn't have to do that.” I reminded him.
“Well there’s a lot of stuff I don’t have to do, but I do it because I want to, and I wanted to help you out.”
He smiled, his face still warmer than an Arizona summer. I got a strange feeling in my chest at that moment, I still can’t tell if it was good or bad.
“Well, thanks, I'll give it back to you tomorrow.”
We talked a little more and he mentioned something that caught my attention.
“Have you heard about all the animals that have been turning up dead?”
My eyes widened with surprise.
“No, I haven't, when did you hear about that?”
He pulled on his long-sleeve shirt.
“My sister said her friend who works at a shelter noticed a bunch of animals were getting adopted by people around the same time, and since then gore videos with them have been showing up. She found out through her co-worker who was emailed it by some random creep.”
I covered my mouth and looked away to hide the smile growing on my face. He had just given me the perfect cover-up without knowing. Now if I killed an animal people had an entire violent ring to connect it to instead of me! I stayed quiet for a minute because I could tell he’d likely see through any phony sad sounds I made.
“Oh wow, that’s awful, do you think they’ll ever find out the people behind it?”
He sighed, running his hand through his wavy hair.
“I hope so, for now, all we can do is pray that no more animals get hurt.”
I couldn't contain my grin as he said that so sincerely like animals and people didn't die constantly and that taking down one group would somehow stop the issue.
“Is there some joke I don’t get?” he furrowed his brow.
“Uh, no, sorry I smile when nervous.”
His gaze softened again, and he didn't press further.
His bringing up the animal killings ended up being the exact push I needed to get my hands dirty. I’d spent the entire day before planning so it was time to put that plan into action. I stole some cat treats that the cat man had laid out and spread them around my apartment which was on the bottom floor. Waiting for one of them to take the bate outside my window was pretty boring but one of them came after a few minutes. A scraggly brown and black cat with a tuft of fur missing on one side of his head. It's messed up but I felt like a little less of an asshole for taking him in since he looked like he was already struggling. I scooped him up and he didn't attempt to fight back.
“Hey there buddy” I waved, feeding him some more food. His eyes had a lot of crust on them, it was kinda gross but I don’t have the right to say with how often I wash my jeans. After a minute or two he let me pet him. I knew making any kind of attachment was bad but I thought it was the right thing to do so he’d fall into a sense of security. I was just about to take him into my room when the door opened.
“Hey, I’m back with groceries!” my shithead cousin announced with two plastic bags in his hands. He looked down to see me with the cat, his eyebrows raising.
“Aw come on, you know we can’t afford a pet.”
He groaned placing the bags on a table and unloading them.
“I know, but he doesn't look like he’s got a lot of life in him I at least want to help him feel better before he kicks the bucket!”
Brick rolled his eyes, putting the cereal box on top of the fridge
“Jeez, did you even think about what diseases he might have? His eyes look puffy what if he has something that can get you sick?”
He had valid concerns which was surprising since he’s usually stupid, but I was still annoyed with him.
“I’m sure he’s fine, I’ll even try to wash him, just please let me hold onto him for a little.”
He folded his arms looking down at us.
“Have you even named him?”
I froze for a second, before using the first thing that came to mind, which ended up being pretty awful knowing my plans.
“Cash cow.” I blurted, awkwardly patting his head.
“Honestly that’s better than what I was expecting. I was sure you’d pick ‘Hellspawn Mcgee’ or something else corny.”
He meant to make fun of me but honestly, I would have named him that if I had more time.
“Ugh, anyway I got those dumb chips you like.”
He then pulled out a bag of the wrong chips.
“Dude those are the wrong ones, this is the third time you’ve mixed up the flavors.”
He threw them at me, scaring the cat slightly.
“Well, I pay for it so you shouldn't be so picky. Anyway, while I was in line I picked up something you might be into.”
He then tossed me a trashy teen magazine. One of my least favorite sorry excuses for an influencer on the cover.
“This is a joke, right?”
I couldn't believe my own adopted brother gave such little shit in my interests.
“I don't know, you decided to start being a girl for real this time so I thought the makeup tips on page ten would help you out.”
I scrunched my face at his comment.
“Dude I’ve been this way for years, just because I started wearing more makeup and dresses doesn't mean I’m more of a girl than when I didn't. I know you won’t get the two-spirit thing but come on.”
He shrugged, seeing me done with me even though he’d just shown up.
“Yeah well hey I’m trying. Anyway, just so you know a friend of mine is coming here Friday.”
My heart stopped.
“Wait why here? You live elsewhere why can’t you assholes go there or their place!”
He slammed his fist on the table.
“Will you shut the fuck up!”
He screamed with a phrase I’d grown numb to.
“I don't know, to be honest, something about wanting to move into this complex and this being a way to scout it out. I’m just letting you know now so you don’t act like a complete freak.”
“Jokes on you I’ll piss in whatever shitty beer you bring just cause you said that!”
I yelled back raising my voice higher than his. He face-palmed before putting the plastic bags in the drawer under the sink.
“Whatever, you and your ketamine-addict-looking cat have fun,” he told me while seating himself on the couch. I picked up the cat and walked into the bathroom to clean it. I closed the door and placed him in the dry tub. Using a small disposable mouthwash cup I got a little bit of water. I hadn't had a pet before so I wasn't sure how to approach the task. I dipped my fingers in the water and carefully pet it while pouring s small bit down his back. Any other cat would fight back but he just made pissed-off noises without doing anything.
I scrapped my old shampoo bottle and kneaded it into his thin fur. His skin was bumpy and dry beneath the hair so scrubbing it was uncomfortable. I made sure to avoid getting soap in its eyes but I did pull away some of the crust on its lids. His pupils were so clouded I was surprised that he could see at all, making me feel even more sure that he would be on its way out with or without me.
After drying him I set him on a beat-up shirt I wore when modifying clothes. He sunk his claws into it a few times, playing with a loose string. I ignored him for the rest of the night, hopping into the shower and changing for bed. His meows woke me up a few times but I tuned it out after a while, reminding myself that he wouldn’t be my cat for long.
The next day was Thursday and there wasn't a second that passed by where the weight of the murder I’d have to commit didn't weigh on me. I seriously shot myself in the foot by taking care of that scruffy, pubic hair pile. I was supposed to be hyped about killing it, after all, I’d dreamed and seen way worse than what I was going to do. Yet once I got home and started setting up I felt grosser with each step. I decided to record it in my bathroom instead of my bedroom so it would be harder to connect to me. I set down a few fabric scraps and a worn-out beach towel, placing it all inside a tub for easier cleanup later.
“Okay, I guess it's time,” I mumbled to myself. I brought the cat in and placed it down, setting up my camera once it was comfortable. I also wore my most generic clothes in addition to a mask, putting my hair in a bun for sanitation. When I saw the flicker of red showing that the camera was on I felt I was dreaming. I smiled, excited that I’d get to live out my violent desires. Yet, when I looked down at its pathetic frame and confused expression those urges left me.
I rationalized what I was doing, reminding myself how many animals die all the time and that I’d been forced into this, but it didn't help much in the end. I won’t get into it but under the pressure of impressing the group Cash Cow didn't go out as fast as I would have liked for a first task. Getting rid of the evidence was especially rough, the textures were pretty nasty, to put it mildly. It was surreal watching the blood go down the tub drain and gradually drip off my hands as I rinsed them. I couldn't conjure a single thought the entire time I cleaned it up.
Whether I was wringing out the clothes or putting the remains in plastic bags, it didn't matter. All I could focus on was the task at hand, with hints of disgust along the way. I ended up finishing at three AM. My hands were wrinkled and shook once I settled. I won’t deny that during the murder I didn't hate it. Slashing into something was fun and it made me feel strong. Still, it wasn't nearly as fulfilling as I expected it to be. Part of it was guilt, but it was mostly disappointment. I’d built it up for years and it wasn't earth shatteringly good or bad.
Overall, I expected to feel more, but it just left me hollow with an uncomfortable itch. There was no way I’d ever be able to see the tub the same way, hell I don’t think I’ll ever use it again. Luckily I almost always shower anyway so it's not too big of a deal. I watched a few horror game videos, trashed everything, changed and went to bed.
My scalp hurt like a bitch the morning since I kept my hair in that stupid bun. Despite getting less sleep than the past two days I held myself together a bit better in the morning. I brushed my teeth, changed, and had some fried bread before getting on the bus. Regardless I looked like complete shit and struggled to slump into my seat.
“Rough night?” Abdul asked
“Uh, yeah.” I quietly responded looking to the floor.
He frowned, looking at me with concern.
“You can talk about it if you're comfortable,” he assured me. I contemplated giving him a thinly veiled metaphor or vague explanation so he'd comfort me but stopped myself before my mouth could run a muck. He wouldn't be able to do much of anything and I don’t like opening up.
“Uhm, thanks but it's something I have to deal with alone.”
He nodded, respecting my boundaries.
“You know, I understand if you can’t hang out today it seems like you have a lot going on.”
I avoided eye contact with him as he spoke. For once I was feeling hints of guilt toward a person. I wanted to spend time with him, but I knew that I wasn't in the state to do that.
“Yeah, I think it’ll have to wait, I’m-” I cut myself off before apologizing. A fact about me that should surprise no one is that I hate apologizing. Even when I do feel kinda bad the act fills me with embarrassment.
“You what?” he asked, his eyes telling me that he knew what I was going to say.
“I’m emotionally not great.” I spat out in an admittedly poor attempt to get out of saying sorry. As always he remained calm but I could tell he saw through me.
“Okay, like I said I understand, whatever it is I hope you feel better.”
I told him thank you and we didn't speak for the rest of the day. At home I changed into more comfortable clothes and brushed my teeth. Unfortunately, I wasn't bouncing back from killing nearly as much as I expected.
“It wasn't even that bad! That thing was on its last legs anyway.” I grumbled to myself, smacking my forehead. I was feeling worse than when I did it which is weird. I ended up spontaneously decorating a ratty tie from the bottom of an accessory drawer to distract myself. It helped me get my mind off things, for a little. I had zero plan, just wanting to make something needlessly complex. Hours that felt like minutes passed and soon it was covered in patches, frills, and beads. I just tried it on when I heard the front door open.
“Man, that shit was wild!” I heard Brick laugh groggily. I didn't have to see or smell him to know he’d gotten lit. I rolled my eyes, closing my bedroom door.
“Hey, who’s there?” his friend asked, seemingly referring to me.
“Oh, that’s my little sis, don’t mind her she’s just on her emo shit!” he joked, which pissed me off for the petty reason that I didn't even listen or dress emo.
“Hey, that’s alright with me, I went through one of those phases,” they responded, their words less slurred than my cousin’s.
I fucked up and forgot to lock it when I closed it so they were able to swing it open, almost smacking my desk.
“Hey emo girl!” they waved as Brick haphazardly pulled them back.
“Okay, man, seriously I think she wants to be left alone.”
The way his friend looked at me made me uncomfortable. Like they’d snap my neck if I pissed them off. They clicked their tongue while stepping through the door frame.
“Alright, but I gotta say calling her an emo is inaccurate, they look like they watch gore and most emos just say they do.” they flashed a sharp toothy grin. At that moment I began to connect the dots.
“Easy, she’ll get pissy with you dude, now come on.” Brick warned tugging their opened button pushed him away. They looked me dead in the eyes.
“I don’t think she minds, in truth, I feel like we’ll have a lot to discuss later.” they smiled again, finally walking back into the living room. A chill ran up my spine when I saw them. The sharp teeth, New York accent, unsettling gaze, that motherfucker was the person who recruited me! They were able to get into my place so easily cause my dumbass cousin probably gave them a spare key or the opportunity to make one, and now they were a room away from me!
I dug my hands into my pillow as I contemplated what to do, no matter what happened next, I knew it was gonna be a rough visit.

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With the advent of Pantheon rolling around thunderlord has made its once every couple of months debut into the dps conversation I feel like it’s worth putting out a more in-depth discussion on the what, the why, the do’s, and the don’ts.
What thunderlord is: An lmg that ramps up to a high fire rate and can put out sustained damage for long periods without needing to reload. Lightning strikes add wonderful aoe utility in its ad-clearing role as an lmg
What thunderlord is NOT (and read before you get your pitchforks): A weapon that should be used for boss dps that matters, especially if that dps is burst or start/stop a la planets encounter.
Facing the facts just about any way you fairly test damage in a raid boss environment thunderlord is going to lose out to just about any option that is explicitly designed for boss dps. The main appeal on thunderlord in this day and age (especially after they fixed it doing significantly more damage than intended due to div bubble shenanigans) is that it is an easy to use hold down the trigger option that has gained a reputation for being a viable dps option. While mostly a fair point, this breaks down in high end content like pantheon and contest raids.
When should I use thunderlord?: Thunderlord is a great option for scenarios where it is okay to sacrifice optimization for comfort. Things like most normal mode raids for example.
When should I NOT use thunderlord?: High-endgame raid scenarios like week 3/4 pantheon and contest raids. To put it straight, using thunderlord as a catch all instead of dps loadouts tailored to damage encounters is a detriment to you and your team in high end environments.
Obviously the meta isn’t everything and you’re allowed to play the game the way you want to play it, but forcing suboptimal strategies on your team is actively disrespectful in contest environments where the goal is to face a challenge. If you can’t handle swapping to a different load out to better suit an encounter or role the you should honestly be doing something that isn’t contest difficulty. Loadouts are a core fundamental aspect of this game which transitions from being a luxury to a necessity at the highest tiers of difficulty. Teammates asking for different equipment isn’t being elitist or gate keeping, it’s asking you to respect the time and effort of the other 5 people in the fireteam.

I appeared for the English and General Test CUET on 15th May 2024.It was our first cuet exam and we did not know the procedure.In the classroom I was in,the teacher gave the OMR sheet 5 minutes AFTER the exam started.OMR takes a lot of time and it's supposed to be given 15 minutes prior to the exam.Not just this,the teached snatched the paper 5 minutes before the exam ended,and she kept making us go through formalities such as signing on different sheets and pasting our passport size pictures.In total,we got about 25 minutes to complete our exam instead of the designated 45 minutes.
This is not just about my story,but thousands of students who faced issues with the management of cuet.Some centres hosted the exam well,but a lot of them did not know the procedure,and the students who were allotted these centres will suffer.
All we demand is a RETEST of the English and General Test exam,since what happened was not at all fair.It is supposed to be a merit based examination,but what happened was just a case of bad luck.And luck should not be the deciding factor of your merit.
If we make a petition like this do you think kuch ho paayega?

Hello,
I currently own a Jeep Wrangler Sahara Unlimited 2020 model and a Toyota Prado 2008 model.
Prado is the love of my life. 16 years now, but problems with transmission and Toyota’s inability to provide official assistance (they recommended going to a private garage) are compelling me to sell it.
Wrangler was fun but the entire car shakes and vibrates at high speeds and there’s something about it that just gives me red flag feelings in my gut that I’ll have problems in the future.
So I’m in the market for a new cacars but I’m very confused.
I definitely want an SUV. I’m a Dubai kid and climbing my vehicle onto anything I want, when I need to, is a must. High ground clearance is important, I don’t want to be damaging my underbody regularly.
I’m not a hardcore off-roader but I’m an enthusiastic road-tripper and aspiring off-roader. So on those spontaneous road-trip days to the mountains, the car should perform. Same for those twice a year desert trips and perhaps even if I start doing it more regularly with a group like the one here, to learn more.
Keeping that in mind, I do want a car that won’t let me down on the dunes, for which I’m guessing I should look for a combination of power and light weight. So what would that be?
Now it gets more interesting. I also like the idea of a truck. We’re enthusiastic interior designers, buying second hand furniture frequently and a truck bed would help us not have to shell out money on a Pathan pickup every time. But not sure what truck would tick the powerful, lightweight, good for off-road criteria?
We’re also a growing family so I want a crew cab with comfort on the inside, by which I mean:
Good leg room, fridge, cruise control, front side airbags, good safety features, wireless Apple car play, wireless charging would be a dream, leather seats, big sunroof.
So what’s a good off-road capable car, potentially a truck, that’s also comfortable on the inside, and does not break the bank?
Budget is not a big criteria, but I do want to be sensible and keep it as low as I can.
I’m aware it’s entirely possible that I want too many different kinds of things in one car, which may not be possible - but figured no harm in having a discussion.
I like Toyota for reliability and resale value. But Hilux GR Sport is unavailable now. (Was even considering new LC70 because it’s cool, but don’t think it’d be right and it’s unavailable too). Would consider Tacoma/Tundra too, buts not available in Dubai showroom or displayed on Toyota UAE website. Not too sure or buying a car that I cannot test drive first.
Other options are Nissan, Chevrolet, GMC, Ram, Ford, the usual.
I’m open to Chinese cars but apprehensive about reliability, service and maintenance infrastructure (non-dealership garages not that established yet) and also resale value.
Finally, I’m wondering if I should sell both cars and buy two – One Hyundai Palisade type car that ticks all the family comfort boxes and another truck that ticks the off-road adventure capability and fun boxes.
Someone help me please! :) Thanks!

Currently my team is developing screens. The testing team members are very new to the project as well as new joiners. One of the biggest challenge i as PO am facing is that testing team is missing on checking the small small thing on the screen.Like alignment, on focus action, message words, capital or small letter, tooltips. Although we have created high modality designs and shared with the team, some of the others elements gets missed. Mentioning these small small components is a challenge as I also come to know about the issues when I get the screen in the end of the sprint for verification. Can anybody suggest a better way to write user stories for UI screens?