Alright idk if there was a tut before me but I had tweeted a tut about create b4 on tweetah and I know some of you need this ASAP (OOOUUUH~ WOO ASAPPPP)
IF ITS THE YEAR 364637 INGAME AND YOUR TRAINEE FINALLY DEBUT IN CREATE AFTER 364636 TRIES YOU WILL ALL NEED MY HELP, IM ON MY WAY (SUPERNANNY)
1.Train them duh The stat I recommend is P+ and up even if you are placed C rank or B rank it isn't THAT bad you just need some trainees to help you sabotage other enemy groups and rig you to atleast 5th or 4th place.

1. How to sabotage Have atleast other trainees who have SSrank stats or just any that you trained to a decent rank that could endure to atleast 21 22 23 24 25 team round and prolly to vocalrapdance round. To sabotage you're gonna have the sabotage trainees at your enemies team most recommend to hope they're in a team with some high rankers so you can take a HUGE ADVANTAGE OUT OF THEM.
   
2. Glitch it hard hard. In vocalrapdance and concept and dressup round you get points for being a leader or if ur at style round dont beg for main positions so if you successfully get chosen get all your points as deserveeed also try to steal the other teams points with ur savotage trainees cuz they dont deserve it duh, go see your rank after. Unsatisfied? RESTART THE GAME and go to your desired position again till you get more points. If they take ur desired leadership RESTART THE GAME!!!!!!! NOW.. The glitch can badly effect your trainee if overused way too hard, these are the consequences.
   
3. HOW TO DRESS PROPERLY if you have MONEY you have MONEY TO STYLE THEM RIGHT DUH (if ur a new player and still don't have money I feel genuinely bad for you for setting up the contract badly you have such a pure soul for not exploiting your trainees to be ground.) If you have money just go to store go down the dressing and buy your desired or all concept points (only cool cute pure sexy points matter) Prototype your outfit first before giving points if you don't wanna make them look messed up as if you're dressing your child up for first day of school and they looked so messed up other than fashionable if you don't like it, use your special tickets and pick something you like better. (ACCESSORIES COST 3 TICKETS!!!!BUT THE REST LIKE CLOTHES DONT!!!THEY COST 1 TICKET) it must be pp5 rank, dress them the same like they're in uniform idk about other ranks but I wanna win If you placed then woohoo get your gems and MAYBE bid to get the group (DO ALL THE QUESTS AT THE CROWN MENU AT MANAGE GROUP FOR A HIGH RANK BUFF) If you need tips for which 8 or 7 (i forgot)QUESTS to do ima say it Release singles 2 times(dont waste your money on create groups), go do ent,event,festival,W app, radio ect schedules all seperately 3 times, do broadcast mini games 10 times and that's it yall but if you don't get your desired schedule just train them 500 times Until your trainees stats turn pp rank and up you can put them in create and earn double the gem prize I just recommend you have them in same team as you but don't restart cuz u don't have them all unless u wanna save them from lowrankers.
   

“Incredible!”
The rebel reeled from the punch, the fist slamming through his protective helmet and cracking his jaw. He choked out a sob at the pain and the feeling of several of his teeth being knocked down his throat.
“This? This is what you send to try and rebel against the Imperium?! THIS?!”
A harsh kick was sent into the rebels stomach, making him cough up the rations he had that morning and a few of the once missing teeth. He grabbed his stomach and his body made to tilt forward and lay in the dust.
Only he was stopped as an armored gauntlet grabbed him by the throat and forced him to stand. His hands came up and grabbed at his attackers wrist as he stared into his own grim reaper.
Said killer wore the helmet of the Macraggian Auxilia, his faceplate being that of a stylized skull. His rank was shown proudly in the form of a centurions plum, blue and white horsehair picked out atop a gilded mount on the top of his helmet.
“Incredible. It’s truly incredible what passes for rebellion these days hm?”
The soldiers behind the centurion laughed or smiled as they watched their leader hoist the rebel up as if the rebel was some game beast that was just recently hunted. Pressure in the form of steam shot out of the centurions wrist, betraying the hidden augmented limb under the armor. The rebel tried to speak, scratching at the Centurion’s arm.
“What? Speak up damn you, and speak clearly. I have no time or patience to hear some long speech about tyranny or whatever else. We have your city to burn insurgent.”
And burn it would. Two large tanks with massive flamers could be seen in the back, protected by infantry and assault vehicles. The main force would break the walls, the infantry would kill the people, and the tanks would burn the rest to ashes.
“Aghh….thill….you….thasard!”
The rebel said, spitting blood and bone fragments from his shattered jaw through what was left of his faceplate.
“Ah. Nothing interesting to say. Oh well.”
The rebel tried in vain to speak again but was silenced as the centurion forced a power gladius through his mouth. He was then unceremoniously dropped to the dust, choking on blood as he watched the Macraggian soldiers march on his home. The last thing he saw before dying was his killer, taking his helmet off and smiling in a wide, cocky manner. ————————————————————————
“Don’t spare the body men, he was a rebel. March over him.”
Tiberius Victor, Centurion of the 3rd Macraggain Legion, yelled as he wiped the grim that had built up over his helmet. He scowled at the filth that adorned his armor and sighed.
“Bloody rebels will pay for more than just rebellion. Look at this! They scratched my faceplate! And that bastard I just killed dared to spit blood at me! Oh they will pay tenfold.”
He chuckled and shrugged as he replaced his helmet. He rolled his head and drew the lapistol he had holstered at his side. He examined it for a moment before shaking his head.
“Ugh….to easy.”
He holstered the pistol again and flourished his gladius as he grabbed the handholds of a Leman Russ tank that was about to pass him by. He climbed up until he stood on top of the tank and crouched down, using his newfound height to look over his army and the objective.
The city was massive….but so were the last three he had burned. Both Imperial Army and even Ultramarine Legion Command had told him he was too far ahead and that he needed to slow down. But where was the fun in that? Besides, the campaign has been far too easy thus far. He had suffered very few casualties, his men were never hungry and his tanks never ran dry on fuel, and the enemy bled. Oh how they bled.
He sighed.
“Easy. Far too easy. Captain?”
The command hatch the tank he rode popped open and a woman in the dirty coveralls and goggled helmet of a tank commander. She looked around, rubbing her eyes before turning and smiling widely. She gave a crisp salute, one which he lazily returned, before nodding.
“Aye my Centurion?”
“Do we have any more wine about? I’m parched from all these victories we keep piling on.”
The captain cringed then turned towards the city.
“Uh….my centurion? Wouldn’t you rather have some water?”
Tiberius turned his head towards the captain, the tilt of his head betraying the cocky smile hidden beneath that the captain and the rest of the army had come to love and hate.
“Captain….are you questioning me?”
“I-no! No, of course not my centurion! But uh….well….”
He made a ‘go on’ motion with his hand, not bothering to stand up from the relaxed position he had taken. He had laid down on his side, his sword hand having sheathed his gladius to prop his head up.
“Well….shouldn’t uh….shouldn’t wine be saved for victory?”
The centurion stared at her for a moment. A very long moment. Perhaps….to long of a moment.
“I….I apologize my centurion! I will-“
Laughter. The centurion was laughing, something he rarely did outside of combat or when around the campfires at night. He laughed loudly and caught the attention of several other Auxilia soldiers.
“True! Haha! I knew I kept you around for something Captain. Fine, me and you shall share the first bottle of wine after that….excuse for a city burns. Return to your duties captain.”
He waved the captain off then turned his head back to the city, not moving out of his relaxed position. She knew better then to consider him lazy or incompetent, she had seen him in action.
She saluted and quickly went back down into her tank. ————————————————————————
He held his helmet in the crook of his arm. He breathed in deeply, smiling as he watched the city burn. Something grabbed his boot and looked down, only to scowl in disgust.
A woman, her lower half aflame with one leg missing, held onto his boot and shin guard.
“Please….mercy! We surrender!”
He raised an eyebrow and followed the trail the rebel left in the dust to see several more wounded and scared rebels. One held up a white rag on a piece of rebar as a white flag.
Several of his auxilia aimed their rifles at the rebels as a sergeant began to moved forward with a pair of restraints.
He was stopped by Tiberius’s sword.
“Sergeant? What are you doing?”
“Uh…taking prisoners sir?”
The centurion tilted his head and smiled widely.
“Prisoners? I don’t recall ordering anyone to take prisoners.”
He lifted his boot and stomped on the wounded woman’s head, smiling wickedly at the crunch he heard under his foot.
“Uh….no my Centurion but legion command has-“
“Legion command? You are taking orders from Ultramarines instead of telling me that such orders have come through?”
“There was no time sir! The orders came fro-“
Tiberius put his helmet on and shoved the sergeant to the side, ripping the rifle from the soldiers hands.
“I see no space marines here soldier. I see soldiers and I see rebels. We kill rebels because we are soldiers.”
He took aim at the closest rebel, put his finger on the trigger and-
“Thats enough Centurion.”
He stopped. He slowly turned his head towards the new, feminine voice behind him.
“Excuse me troo-“
He stopped again and stared. She had to have been 10 feet or at least close, this goddess in blue and gold. Her short, cropped hair was golden blonde and a green, metallic laurel wreath was wrapped around her head to add to her noble features. She came with several ultramarines as an honor guard in tow but he was sure she could handle anything thrown her way with ease.
“The Lady of Macragge.”
He whispered in awe before looking around. Those under his command had shared his awe but where he shook himself free, the rest still stared.
“Damn you all, our Lady is here! Bow damn you! All of you bow!”
He paced up and down the line, ensuring his auxilia bowed. He then turned towards the rebels and pointed at the guards who stood over them.
“Them too, cmon now. Bow!”
The rebels resisted the guards orders and movements. The centurions rage grew as he stormed over and pulled his gladius from its sheath.
“I command thee BOW.”
He sliced the back of the knees of one of the captives, the man yelping in pain before yelling in agony from his nearly cut tendons. The rest fell in line quickly.
Tiberius marched towards the Primarch, her honor guard bringing their weapons to bare only for him to kneel down and stab his gladius into the dirt.
“My Lady. Centurion Tiberius Victor of the 3rd Macraggian Legion reporting.”
The Primarch stared down at the Centurion before her eyes went up and around. She took note of the rather large number of prisoners and the burning cityscape around them.
“A good campaign Centurion?”
Tiberius nodded, smiling widely under his helmet.
“Yes my Lady. I only wish it weren’t so boring, so easy! But it is done.”
It took every ounce of self control to not scowl at his arrogant and cocky nature. He spoke as if he had stomped on a bug rather than a rebels skull. Yet….something about him caught her attention.
“Remove your helm centurion.”
He did so without delay, removing his helmet and setting it at her feet. His hair was cut in the traditional military ‘high and tight’ fashion and he was mostly clean cut save for a well trimmed mustache that went no further than the corners of his mouth.
“I recall telling my command staff to recall you back as you had pushed to far ahead. Yet we stand here at the city we were meant to take, the one we were meant to hold. The one….that is currently burning to ashes around us. What do you have to say for yourself Centurion?”
He said nothing for a long time. Then, to her surprise, he laughed. The auxilia around them slowly looked at each other, their faces hidden beneath their helmets but all were worried or tense.
“Hahah! Ah….I say mission accomplished my Lady. I also say that this light really brings out the color of your eyes.”
He laughed again and slowly stood up while extending his arms out wide.
“I say I give you the best gift this galaxy can offer to someone like you from someone like me.”
His smile grew into the same cocky, full of himself grin those under his command knew so well.
“I give you victory, my Lady Juno.”
He held his gladius up and flourished it, letting the blade catch the firelight of a dying city.
“Victory.”

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Anglestan
Augustus 5, 1923
Facility 9, Mancheston
Colonel Jacobs
His hands flew through the folders General Jorgenson and Colonel Thatcher had. There were dozens of them, stacked upon each other all filed in alphabetical order. It had only been a few days since he had woken up from his coma and visited his home— now his mother’s grave. He clenched his fists at the thought. The grief and rage threatened to bubble and spill over once again. He took a deep breath and dragged out the exhale, almost to the point where he had emptied out his lungs.
He was the only one with clearance, and so he couldn’t disclose any of what he learned with his team. They would simply have to trust him and his judgment. Which he was sure they would do. His hands went over one of the folders skimming through it. There were multiple secret projects, but the ones with the most notes were Project S.T.A.R, Project L.U.N.A.R.I, Project R.E.V.I.V.E, Project D.A.W.N, and Project T.E.M.P.L.A.R.
The colonel decided to start with the most notes and papers. Project D.A.W.N.
He skimmed through the notes, reading through some of the details and highlighted words. Project D.A.W.N, the espionage project Thatcher had started placed two spies in Verlin who were to report directly to a Crescent general named Sienna Moretti who was apparently on humanity’s side.
So I was right. There was an espionage element. With the recent attacks and Thatcher’s death, however, it’s safe to assume that it had somehow failed. Either they got found out or they betrayed us. Both seem very likely, but if they were found out, it would be possible that they had died.
He read through all of it before setting the folder down. There were no new notes recently. He sighed and assumed that Project DAWN was a failure. Whether or not the agents were still alive and well, it was too risky to check if they had been compromised. It was better to assume that they had been and cut all contact. The only way to find out now was to go there himself and check. I can’t contact them again. There’s no telling if it would still be Moretti or the agents who would see my messages. It’s a big risk, and judging by the state of things, best to assume it failed.
He picked up another folder. This one had the label ‘under development’ on the folder. Project Templar. He opened the folder and was instantly met with a blueprint and drawings of a massive bipedal machine. It looked humanoid with strange proportions and was supposed to be standing at an impressive 30 meters, or 100 feet. The Titanic Engine Mech for Personal Land Assault and Reconnaissance.
It was apparently a joint project with the Church of Sol, utilizing new and advanced technologies he hadn’t heard of. A 203mm Gatling cannon on one arm, while the other had three different weapons. A massive firestarter that utilized a new type of fuel mixture that could theoretically spew flames a kilometer away using a high-pressure nozzle. The fuel was ignited using an electrical spark. The second weapon was a high-powered light weapon that fired a single powerful beam of focused light that was even further amplified by layers of focusing lenses that could increase its output several times. Its third weapon was… a dust domina?
Mark read through the specifications of the so-called ‘sand cannon’ weapon. It was a massive cannon that accelerated tiny particles several times. Each particle was to be electrically charged, and it would travel at immense speeds. Near impossible speeds. The resulting impact of a microscopic particle at such speeds would be enough to form a small crater and punch through armor like it was nothing. This weapon would fire multiple at the same time, which could literally eat away at anything on the opposing end.
In terms of secondary weapons, the titan had two missile launch chambers in front of its shoulder each containing about 40 missiles, and two massive howitzer cannons on top of it. Both are 800mm in caliber. It had massive stumpy legs that served as bunkers for a small platoon on each leg. Each leg had machine dominas and 155mm cannons. Its chassis held two nuclear reactors inside providing for its power and weaponry. Its armor was the thickest and most ridiculous he’d ever read. Two meters of heavy steel armor.
How far are we in terms of technology? This thing looks like it came out of an H.G. Wells sci-fi novel. He thought, shaking his head. It was over the top, but there was no denying its combat capabilities. If it was already under-developed then it must be the first prototype. This has already been approved. Guess I better see it for myself later and check how it's coming along. Construction apparently started just a few months before the invasion.
Next was project L.U.N.A.R.I. It was a project involving Six. “Huh,” he said, continuing to read on.
The Light Undone: Nocturnal’s Adaptive Resistance Initiative. As he read further, his eyes widened. The reason why Six was so special wasn’t just because of her immunity to all strigoi weaknesses, but because of her impressive ability to turn any true born strigoi like her. She could transfer her strain like any other strigoi and transform them into a version of hers. It however only seemed to work for naturally born strigoi. The new species of ‘half-breeds’ were called ‘Blessed Children’ as Thatcher had coined in the folder.
The plan was to turn all willing true-born hemolite strigoi into these blessed children. Able to withstand the sun. Immune to silver. Free from the dependency on blood. They could remove all the weaknesses of the strigoi and after the war— make it possible to integrate them into society as normal citizens living on the surface. The project folder also made mentions of a city-wide draft in Dante and highlighted the possibility of turning all Dantenite true born strigoi into these blessed children and renaming them as ‘Lunari’. A mix of the dark and the light. The light of Sol reflected in the children of the night.
“Thatcher, what the fuck have you been up to…” Mark whispered to himself.
While it was true that it could help in the war effort by utilizing Six and the dantenite population, it would also invite some unforeseen problems and consequences. Would humanity be okay with the Lunari? Would the world even be ready for them? Strigoi who were immune to the sun. They wouldn’t be impossible to kill, but they would be immensely more powerful if we were to take away their inherent weaknesses. This is a gamble. Its gain would only be seen during the war period, but its unintended effects on society could be catastrophic.
He frowned, setting the folder down. It was obviously Thatcher’s main plan; seeing as all her moves could be traced to the path of the eventual completion of this project. It seemed dangerous in the long run, but the duskwalkers and dantenites had been monumental in the war effort. Maybe it was the time the world started to accept them more. Isolation and segregation was definitely not the way to disperse fears and foster understanding.
If Thatcher thinks this is the next step forward… then I’ll put my faith in her plans.
Next up was Project S.T.A.R, or the Superior Tech and Adaptive Resistance. An upgrade to the current hemolite weapons and gear by using new researched studies. The Starfire Pattern Domina. The SFD-23 This thing features a new loading system and magazine, ditching the rotating cylinder most domina used, or the rotating helix magazine design of the current hemolite standard BM-16 domina.
The new domina had its magazine like a box… a strange design but it was certainly easier to handle than the bulky cylinders the helical mags used. In terms of ergonomics, it was smoother and fit more. Its placement however was on top of the domina, just above the barrel. Most of the weapon were to be made of lightweight polymers and the barrel itself were to be crafted out of reinforced aluminium. In addition to that, it had a 10-inch bayonet attached to it.
There were other new things as well, such as the composition of the bullet. Looking at the conceptual cross-section designs, Mark read through its description and how it would function. A .308 cased telescoped bullet covered in a silver jacket with break-away petals surrounding the main body. Inside the jacket was a penetrator core that was to be made of depleted uranium. It had a small amount of incendiary compound and… powdered white phosphorus behind an explosive compound. The thin silver jacket would deform and trigger the explosive compound inside the body. It would blow up causing massive internal damage and release the incendiary materials into the body with the flecks of powdered white phosphorus. The penetrator core could still potentially keep going and hit a second target, or punch through heavily armored targets.
Part of the new Project S.T.A.R was overhauling the armor and gear of not just the Hemolites but the Hunters as well. Starfire Mk 1. Carapace Armor. Carapace? It looked like plates of steel covered in a rubberized coat. It was supposed to be slipped on over the original hemolite body armor. It added a spring-loaded wrist blade to the gauntlet, a thicker coat made of resistant materials, and added extra padding for the knees, shoulders, and elbows.
However, the hemolites weren’t the only ones mentioned in the folder. It was to serve the Hunters as well. “Hunters…” Mark said. “August’s group is part of this initiative too.” He flipped through some of the pages. There were blueprints and drawings of an armored suit. A mechanized suit even smaller and more compact than the jotunn units. The Mark 1 STR battlesuit. It was supposed to hug the wearer’s frame and increase their overall power. It was supposed to be built of titanium alloy and a heavy steel frame with composite armor. It had a cooling system, life support systems that could recycle bodily fluids, and an exoskeleton frame that could increase the wearer’s strength and speed.
However, the real eye-opener was Thatcher’s notes. She had been ranting about the new human evolution, and how the Hunters were the first of the ‘Solari’. She wanted to enhance human genetics and push past the peak of human ability to reach greater heights. Implants and restructuring of the anatomy to make it more efficient. Using the blood of the goddess herself. She must have lost it. These are the ramblings of a lunatic. At least… if she didn’t mention the goddess. Why was the goddess important here?
The writings ended with the words: “See Project R.E.V.I.V.E, for more details.”
Mark eyed the final folder. His hands shook as he reached out to take it. Flipping it open, his hands nearly dropped it in shock. The goddess Helena was alive. There were pictures of her naked form floating in a giant tube of fluid. There were more of Thatcher’s ramblings and excited rants about the possibilities of such a discovery. Resurrection, Enhancement, and Veneration: Implementation of Visionary Evolution.
The goddess is alive?! According to the file, she’s currently under the Cathedral of New Lundun. Not only that, but the file also detailed the extraterrestrial tech that lay beneath the cathedral. So the goddess is real and she’s— not really a goddess, but rather, a vampyr who created herself a human body to stand in the sun, and decided that it wants to be on humanity’s side… what the fuck.
Mark’s frown and confusion only increased as he read on. Thatcher’s notes seemed to nearly descend into madness as she had written about creating ‘the first hundred’, alluding to the 100 members of the Hunters division. Her plan was to revive the goddess, and with her help and expertise in genetics— use her DNA to transform the Hunters into demi-humans. Super soldiers. Literal children of the goddess Helena. They would then don the STR battlesuits, the first of the superhuman warriors to defend humanity. Solari.
Their lightning-speed advancement into technology was heralded by studying the alien tech, which deepened the understanding of physics and engineering. Nuclear technologies, chemical warfare, new material sciences, the mechs, and walkers, it was spearheaded by trying to reverse-engineer technology centuries ahead of our own… for the past hundred years. It wasn’t completely stolen, however. More or less borrowed ideas that had been made into our own with our own designs and implements. Still, the speed at which the Church and the military had deciphered such advancements all by themselves was… impressive to say the least.
Still, the fact that the goddess was alive, and could be brought back was big news. Checking the file for details, he found that the previous general, Jorgenson, had already approved this project. It was their next step as soon as they returned from New Amsterdam; which never happened.
If Helena was alive, then she could end this war swiftly, or at the very least help greatly like she once did during the War of Darkness. Having the goddess back would throw a massive wrench in the Crescent’s plans. It would certainly be something they wouldn’t expect. Not even I expected this, since many sources say that the goddess had already ascended to watch over humanity, while conspiracy theorists claim she had died in battle and that the Church was worshiping a corpse. This could be the trick up our sleeves that no one would even consider.
The colonel quickly got up from his seat and gathered the main files he had read. He placed them in a bag and rushed outside of his office in Facility 9. He went over to a nearby room and flicked the lights on. “We need to go,” he said. In an instant seven hemolite soldiers got up from whatever they were doing and instantly stood in line.
“Sir! Whatever you need of us, sir,” the group said in unison.
They were Hemo-1. His former squad members. He had taken up Louis' suggestion that they be his personal security detail. It was a shame that he had basically placed the best hemolite team out of commission, but after all he had been through he convinced himself that he could be just a little selfish. He didn’t want to lose any more friends. Not on his watch. Not while he was in an office, and they were out fighting.
“We’re going to New Lundun. Better pack up, it’s going to be a long night.”
“Mark,” Olivia said.
Jacobs turned to her direction and gave her a nod.
“Colonel, sir, may I ask where in New Lundun?”
“Liv, you don’t need to do that with me. Please. I give all of you special permission,” the colonel groaned. “It’s so weird. I mean, ‘captain’ was bad enough, but now you’re acting like I’m an authority figure.”
“You… are, though,” Emma shrugged.
“I’m your friend, and Liv I’m literally your partner. Unless you have some kind of weird fetish, save it for later.”
Olivia grinned, shaking her head. “Duly noted!” she chirped.
“That’s better,” Mark chuckled. “Now come on, we have a cathedral to visit.”
“Uhh, I’m not sure if you noticed, but we’re kinda… strigoi?!” Louis groaned. “I’d burn the moment I step in that place! Plus, it’s coated in silver! Anything I even touch will give me burns!”
“Oh come on, Lou. You have fucking gloves on. As long as you’re not a clumsy dumbass you’ll be fine… oh wait.’
“Uh huh, just sayin’ what I think, boss.”
The group headed out and Mark said something on his radio. He then sat on the ground, making his joints pop. The rest of the squad shrugged and followed his example, sitting down on the grass and waiting for… nothing. Charles and Zach looked at each other in confusion. “Uh, sir?” they asked. “Aren’t we supposed to be heading out and traveling right now?”
“Oh yeah, we’re just waiting.”
“Foooor…?”
The colonel gave them a smirk as a loud noise began to make itself known. A hummingbird transport appeared out of the distance and stopped right above them, slowly descending into the grass. “Being colonel has its perks,” Mark said with a smile. He stood up and hopped inside the hummingbird as soon as it landed. “Come on now! We’ve got work to do! Last one aboard buys everyone food later!”
Emma zipped in before Mark could even finish his sentence, followed by Olivia, Phineas, Charles, Zach, and then Louis, who sadly took too long to process what the colonel said, and lagged behind.
“Aw, man! Fuck this shit.”
“Rules are rules, Lou. Prepare your wallet later.” Mark grinned.
With a smile, the colonel pulled Olivia to his side, who blushed for a moment before shaking her head. “Take us up! New Lundun Cathedral! How long would it take?” he asked the pilot.
“About an hour and a half!” The pilot replied. “Less if you want to get there as soon as possible!”
“Take your time! The night’s still young.”
The hummingbird started to lift up, taking them into the air. The group settled down in their seats and watched outside the open. Mark opened up a bag inside the hummingbird and took out some ear muffs built for a strigoi. Extremely loud noises were damaging for a strigoi’s enhanced hearing, so the military started implementing ear muffs for them after complaints from early deployments of the hemolite squads.
The trip didn’t take too long. In only an hour and twenty minutes they had arrived at the safe zone of New Lundun, heading straight for the cathedral. The night mass had just ended and people were leaving the cathedral. “Looks like we made it in perfect time!” Mark smiled. They hovered for a few minutes in the air before eventually landing down right in front of the statue of Helena.
As soon as they landed, the colonel and his group left the hummingbird. Mark instructed the pilot to wait for them. He went straight for the cathedral with his group following behind. He entered inside, clearing his throat. “Hello?”
“Well this is surely unexpected,” an old man said, walking up to greet them.
“Great Grandfather Aurelius. It’s uh, an honor.”
“Please. The honor is mine… I see you’re the new colonel. Yes, I’ve heard the news,” he said. “Would you mind telling me your name, young man? As well as your companions, if they feel so. I usually don’t allow duskwalkers here but, I have nothing against them. I’ll make an exception for your group.”
“Thank you, Great Grandfather,” Mark replied. “I am Colonel Mark Jacobs. These are my friends and security detail. Olivia, Zach, Phineas, Charles, Emma, and Louis.”
“I see, and what brings you here?”
“Since Thatcher’s demise, I was given access to her research and project folders upon taking up the title. I’ve learned about what’s under your cathedral,” Mark cleared his throat. “Would it be alright if we could see it? I’d like to check it for myself. Of course, under your permission and guidance, Great Grandfather.”
The church head looked from Mark to his companions. He pulled a slight frown and hummed. “Do these companions of yours have the clearance? Surely, we wish to keep our secrets hidden,” he said. Mark nodded.
“They do not have clearance to know what is in Thatcher’s folders and her findings,” the colonel nodded. “However, I give them permission to accompany me, and should they discover things for themselves, then you have my word and my trust that I can keep them from spilling state secrets.”
The Great Grandfather gave a short pause before ultimately relenting. “Very well,” he let out a sigh. “Follow me.”
Aurelius walked behind the altar and pulled the same lever, which opened the same staircase leading underground, where Jorgenson and Thatcher had once gone. “Over here, colonel,” he said. “I do not know you completely yet, but this is a big deal of trust I am giving you. Perhaps you would be the one to do things that Thatcher could not have.”
Mark nodded, he and his group followed the Great Grandfather down the staircase. It led down to a massive underground facility, with numerous priests, researchers, and scientists. Libraries, records, instruments, and artifacts of old. It was a treasure trove of learning.
“So,” Aurelius cleared his throat. “What would you like to know about?”
“This isn’t all of it,” Mark said. “Thatcher mentioned a living, breathing, Helena.”
His group behind him let out a soft gasp, but they tried their best to hide their surprise.
“Hm,” the Great Grandfather nodded. “Perceptive young man aren’t you? Very well.”
They were then led into another room, behind a set of heavy blast doors. If the whole group were trying to hide their surprise then, now they could barely contain it. Even the colonel stared awestruck at the things he had seen. Despite the near-magical objects around them, the true shock was the massive starship at the end of the hallway. “It’s impressive isn’t it?” Aurelius said. “All of the goddess’ artifacts and items at our disposal, to use and learn from, to integrate into our own. This is why Anglestan is the most powerful nation in the UHT in terms of development. When it comes to industry, however, that would go to the UNA. But we share our secrets with them. All our advancements are handed to them first before any other nation.”
“This is all amazing, Great Grandfather,” Mark replied. “But this is not what I’m here for.”
“No, it’s not.” Aurelius nodded.
He led them to another room, one that was sterilized and sported advanced machinery. Things that Mark had never even seen. There were screens with luminous green texts that appeared in front of it. Large panels with numerous keys, levers, and dials. Graphs of all sorts and beeping monitors. In the center, was the very thing he had come all this way to confirm. A large cylinder filled with liquid, sporting tubes and pipes connecting to its base. Inside was a woman of large proportion. Four arms, two legs, and six wings. In her bare chest was a symbol of the sun that seemed to glow dimly.
“There she is, there’s you goddess.”
Neither Mark nor his group spoke a word. He walked up to it, eyeing the woman inside. It really is her. Down to the last details. Golden hair, six limbs, six folded wings, and she looks massive. Probably as big as her statue just outside the cathedral. This is it. The very goddess in the history books, the one spoken about in legends and the one worshiped in the Churches of Sol.
“Can we free her?” he said.
The Great Grandfather nearly choked on his spit upon hearing those words. “Free her?! That could kill her! We don’t even understand this technology, let alone control it!” he said pointing at the panels. “The machines you see here are the best and most advanced we have based on what we can reverse engineer, but even then, the consequences of tampering with its functions may be disastrous!”
“I understand, Great Grandfather,” Mark said. “But we are in a dire situation, and the goddess may be our hope of turning this around. Whatever secrets of her tech that you don’t understand, wouldn’t she be able to teach us directly? What good is she floating around in Sol knows what?”
“That is her miraculous healing fluid. She had already built this contraption centuries ago in case anything were to happen to her, that her body’s natural healing could not sustain,” Aurelius said. “During the War of Darkness, Helena was struck with a weapon so deadly, her very cells began to tear away. The Reaper. Dealt to her by Absolem the progenitor. Her flesh was peeling from her body, and she began to decay whilst she still breathed. She entered this contraption and gave strict instructions to the Great Grandfather at the time, not to interrupt the healing process. The machine that monitored her, however, began to fail over time.”
“So this… these screens and panels…”
“Is only what functions we can understand. We took it upon ourselves to rebuild and study it the best we could. What we have right now is only a cheap imitation of a technology we do not fully comprehend,” he said. “It took us decades to even figure out the fundamentals and create a working prototype of this machine. By some miracle, the goddess’ healing process had remained even while we replaced components of technology ahead of ours.”
“But you know how to free her, don’t you?”
“I… yes.”
“Great Grandfather Aurelius,” Mark began. “We can end this war. Imagine what we could do with the goddess fighting on our side. We could advance even further, we could finally end the bloodshed, and we can show humanity that there is still hope. Imagine how people all over the world would feel seeing as their goddess has returned.”
“I wish I had your enthusiasm,” Aurelius said. “But it is simply too risky. The Church’s duty is to protect Helena and her legacy. We keep her alive, literally and figuratively. She nearly died the last time she was involved in a war. Would you risk losing the goddess?”
“Would you risk humanity losing?”
The Great Grandfather fell silent, looking back at Helena floating inside the tube, then to the panels that controlled it. He frowned and let out a long sigh. “The goddess said that we should not interrupt it. That it would end as soon as it was finished. Maybe we should trust her words.”
Mark shook his head. “I don’t spot a single blemish on the goddess. Not a single scratch,” he argued. “You said it yourself that the machine had begun to fail and you replaced components. How would you know that the thing that’s supposed to wake her up was not tampered with? Think about it. What you may think is a useless piece may be integral to the whole machine. Or maybe your replacements were not up to the task. Just because nothing’s happened doesn’t mean its functions have remained whole.”
“Young man, we simply cannot gamble with the goddess’ life here.”
“Have you no faith? Great Grandfather?”
Aurelius stepped back in shock. Mark’s companions looked at each other, clearly surprised as well. “Mark… I don’t think we should keep arguing with—” Olivia tried to say.
“No,” the colonel said firmly, cutting her off. “Great Grandfather Aurelius, do you think that Helena will not be able to pull through if we wake her? How long has it been? A century? How much longer will we wait? She may be immortal but humans aren’t.”
“I'm sorry, but the chances of failure are too high. The probability of her—”
“I don’t care about the probability! Would you rather put your faith in a statistic?!” Mark raised his voice. “I lost my mother to this war! My friends! My job! My eye, and almost my life! I’ve put mine on the line out there! You don’t know what it’s like out there! Was my mother’s death just a probability too? Was she just a statistic to you?! That as long as the numbers are good, no matter how many are lost, we are ‘winning’?!”
“Mark—!”
“No, Liv! He needs to know what’s really going on out there!” he spat. “Great Grandfather, with all due respect, but you don’t have a damn clue what it’s like to be in the field. You’re a man of faith, aren’t you? Take a risk. Everyone else has.”
Aurelius stood there, dumbfounded. He bit the inside of his cheeks and clenched his fists. “For your insolence, I would have had you flogged and stripped of your rank,” he glared at the young colonel. However, his features slowly softened, letting out a soft sigh. “But I have never seen such conviction. Mighty is your faith.”
The Great Grandfather moved over to the panels and reached into his robe, pulling out from around his neck a key with the symbol of the sun. He inserted it into the machine and turned. A beep sounded, right before Aurelius pulled a lever. In an instant, the fluid inside the glass chamber began to drain out into the tubes under it. Slowly, the chamber emptied and all that was left was the nude form of the goddess sitting in the glass.
“Did it work?” Louis asked, stepping forward and looking at the woman.
Aurelius stayed silent, his hands shaking in anticipation. Mark moved toward the glass chamber, when suddenly, the glass opened up like a door, releasing a fragrant mist. They stood there, watching for a whole minute. Nothing. At first nothing. The Great Grandfather looked like he was about to break down. His knees shook as he covered his mouth, thinking that he was responsible for the death of Helena.
That was when… a soft sound was heard. Movement. Olivia immediately went over to Mark and stood in front of him. Ready to protect him should anything happen. Slowly, the goddess moved more, her arms inched to the side.
Then, her eyes opened.

Okay, so this is just a theory I have been brewing up in my mind and now that I've ordered one of these GBO's I'm wondering about this Prospect.
If you don't know about this 10th Anniversary Distribution Cart, check out this video, I'm not sure if you can provide links but if you want to know where i ordered mine, I did from Ali, just Google the name of the cart and you should find a couple of results.
If i understand correctly, this cartridge basically does what "I'm Blissy" did on his video here, but without all the hassle.
The question I have now, is the same as in the title of my post, so if anyone has any experience with this or have done it in the past, I'd love to know the answer.
If nobody has done this however, then it looks like I'm gonna be the first to do it (although I doubt it), and so, I'll provide a follow up thread for those interested, I just need both the Cartridge and the GBO to arrive first haha, they're in the mail so it'll take a little while.
With that being said, thanks a lot for reading the post and your time :)
Cya 'round!

Hey everyone! This is an odd question but I looked everywhere and couldn’t find an answer. I got sunburned almost exactly a month ago (which is uncommon for me but I’ve been struggling health wise, specifically super mast celly so not surprised). It was hot to the touch, then peeled and itched and is not looking like it’s healed. All the skin has peeled, no more hot to the touch, etc. except my skin is still red, almost as red as when it burned. When I press on it turns white then fades back to red. I’ve never had this happen, nor had a sunburn not fade within a week at most. Anyone know what could be going on? Thanks in advance!

It happened like a year ago, while I was in the Kitchen, I was preparing my coffee because it was early morning and I was ready to go to work. I grabbed the milk from the fridge and after I turned around, i saw after the corner, a black, round head and a long neck. After I looked at it, it dissapearred. I grabbed my phone and wanted to call the Emergency Services 😂, but i said ,,and what the fuck are they going to do, call the ghostbusters?" I put the phone down and went in all the rooms to search the ghost. I didn't found it.. so I thought that it dissapeared forever. I went to work and I said what happened to me. Some of them didn't even belive. After I finished the work, i went home. Outside it was already dark (It was winter). I live in an apartament at the last floor and when I entered in the apartament I realized that I left my backpack in the car, so I went back. After I closed the door, I saw the ghost, I saw it very clearly, it was going on the stairs, torward me at very high speed. I entered back in my apartament and closed the door, but later, with a knife in my pocket I went to my car to get my backpack. Since then, i didn't see him anymore..

RLCS 2024 - Major 1: APAC Open Qualifier 5

Schedule	Day	UTC	Top X	Bracket.
Day 3	Thu (Today)	09:00	Top 16	Swiss
Day 4	Fri	09:00	Top 8	Single Elim
Day 5	Sat	09:00	Top 4	Single Elim

Coverage

Liquipedia / / Start.gg

Streams

Platforms	Link	Language
Twitch	TBD
Twitch	TBD

The main channel will show a featured match from each round, while the participating teams may be running a stream for their own matches. Below is a list of Team Broadcasts:

Dark Rift Esports	DeToNator	Dreams To Legends	Elevate
Gaimin Gladiators	GracesBlaze	SailingEsports

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So, I had a virtual onsite for Big M recently, and for the final round, they gave me this question: https://leetcode.com/problems/parsing-a-boolean-expression/.
I hadn't seen it before, but it reminded me of this question: https://leetcode.com/problems/basic-calculator-iii/, which I had solved while preparing for the interview.
However, I was not able to solve it. After the interview, I looked it up on LeetCode, and 15 minutes later, I had a running solution. It was still missing some edge cases, but the idea I was using was correct.
That made me even more depressed because I could have solved it if I hadn't panicked or had asked a question about some doubts I had.
I bombed this round, and while I did okay in the other rounds, I messed up on one of the behavioral questions. I guess I should expect the rejection email soon.

Charybdis looks super cartoony. Like scylla does a little, and all the characters are stylized, but charybdis looks straight out of loony toons. Everything is so round and bulbous, like an onion. Why is this?

Hello everybody, my (26 cis lesbian) gf (26 trans post-everything girl)’s behavior towards permanent hair removal is snowballing to me questioning if she’ll be able to be happy one day.
Seems very unreasonable since it’s just hair I guess but she has a history of being unhappy and it is constant at this point from the moment I met her. Since it was always justified before I always took it as a normal reaction to her bad situation, she had to move out of the US to her home country and forced into military service for almost 2 years. As a trans girl who was out to all her relatives except family it must have been extremely difficult and traumatic and she’s still in for 6 months.
As her partner (I met her 6 months before military) I always try to make everything I can to help daily, we always talk, I try to make her happy and we go out on her days out of the base and do things she wants to do. She’s happy but I feel like something is off, she always keeps me at arms length in certain areas of her life, I don’t know even know what any friends or family member looks like, let alone meeting them.
A few weeks ago I offered to pay for her laser removal of facial hair + another area every session, we already talked about it, I knew she wanted it and she hates her hair. Yet now she’ll find any excuse to not do it, the professional here are not to be trusted (they are and I picked one of the best in the country), she’s afraid to be burn/scarring but haven’t yet researched the subject, …
It seems to me that she gave up on realistic steps forwards and is thinking that a miracle will arrive and she won’t have to do anything to get to her goals.
I guess my question is : does it look like she doesn’t want to be happy anymore? She’s refusing to do something that would make her daily life much more enjoyable and now I feel like maybe she’s so desperate that she feels as if any step towards real progress is taking her further away from a comfortable delusion. Did any of you experience that ? How did you found a way out ?
She also deeply regret not having been able to transition before puberty and now that it keeps being delayed she’s deeply scared she’ll never pass which I think is unreasonable but also understandable fear.
Sorry my English is a bit messy, I’m not a native of this language.
Thank you for any comment that can help me see through this situation, I’m starting to think we should part ways for some time, I’m constantly caring and am tired but I don’t want to do that.

Introduction
Muslims believe the Quran, the holy book of Islam itself is not just a religious book for guidance but also the literal word of god i.e. Allah itself. In everyday conversations, you will hear Muslims call it Kalamullah (Word of God), not in the Christian sense where the Word is Jesus and God but actual sayings, sentences, and words uttered by god himself and compiled into a single book by human hands. While Muslims are proud of their holy book being the literal words of god sent down to all of mankind, there are a few problems with that mainly concerning Islam's doctrinal theology and its core beliefs.
Disclaimer and Notes
Now, before I start, a disclaimer. The issue of the Quran being god's word or not has been one of the most pretentious and divided issues in the Muslim community. Because of this issue, multiple sects (considered deviant and heretical today) popped up in the early years of Islam's history leading to multiple debates, condemnations, and even inquisitions for those that were against the majority-held view in history. So to make it easy considering Islam has tons of historical sects, all of whom held widely different views than modern-day Islam when it comes to the Quran's states as the word of god (or not), this post is aimed at Ashari, Maturidi and Ahlul Hadith/Athari aqeedah sects who make up the majority of Muslims today, collectively considered to be under the umbrella of Ahlul Sunnah Wal Jema'ah (Literally meaning "The People of the Prophet's Tradition and Consensus" or to make it easier to understand "The Followers of the Prophet's Teachings and the Righteous Community"). This term is commonly understood in Islam as those who follow the true and righteous path in Islam which according to the hadiths, out of 73 deviant sects, only 1 (the above I already mention) will be on the correct spiritual path.
Why do I say this problem is akin to the Trinity problem in Christianity? Both are key problems that form the basis of the entire religion, not just for an individual believer but also for the scholars who dabble in religious sciences. Both the Quran and Trinity make up the core fundamental teachings upon which other teachings are established and expanded further. Without these key concepts, the entire premise of both religions (Islam and Christianity) would fall apart within a matter of seconds. Both issues are also hotly debated even to this day. As I mentioned before, the issue of the Quran's creation or non-creation was an important issue that occupied the minds of early-century Muslim scholars and thinkers, to the point schisms and breakaways from the main branch started to emerge. The same thing happened in Christianity with the Trinity which led to excommunication, the Arian controversy, and multiple individual distinct sects, all of whom have a different understanding of what the Trinity is.
Last, I would also like to mention that considering the Trinity has been severely criticized by non-Christians alike as proof of Christianity's falsehood and internal contradictions, then the same should be said with Islam's problem of the Quran's status. However, unlike in Islam, Christianity continued to debate up to the present day and even adopted Greek philosophical concepts to better explain away the Trinity and the relationship between each Divine Person of the Trinity. In Islam, the opposite occurred. Those who used Greek philosophy and rhetoric were condemned as either falling into falsehood or corrupting the religion by introducing pagan concepts. Ironically, the most condemned bunch of the Muslim sects I'll talk about below, the Mutazilites were the ones who most used philosophy which led to their rejection of the Quran's non-createdness.
Due to the decline of the Mutazilite sect, the rise of more conservative movements, and the criticism of Aristotelian philosophical ideas by Al-Ghazali (Note, he wasn't against philosophy, he was against philosophical ideas that went against Islam like the eternity of the world and denying bodily resurrection in the afterlife), theological discussions and debates surrounding the question faded away. Even now, most Muslims consider the issue "solved" and simply adopt one of the three main positions. Unsurprisingly, while the West and Christianity continued adopting new ideas, this means the Muslim positions lacked much substance and arguments seen in Christianity with Greek and Neo-Platonist ideas which in turn, means there are tons of problems with their positions, (which is the whole point of the post)
Now, with that out of the way, let's begin.
How Have Muslims Historically Responded to this Problem?
There are two answers to the question of the Quran's status. One, to affirm that it is the literal word of god from Allah Himself which existed with him since eternity or to affirm it is a created being just like every other creature and human planet earth. The second view doesn't mean that the Quran is simply the work of man, quite the opposite. Rather, it posits that the Quran still holds religious significance as Islam's holy book and is still the Word of God but it was created at a later time by God, not existing eternally with god before the creation of everything. In the second view, the Quran still holds religious significance for praying, guidance, and the basis for Islam, only that it is of a lower status than god himself, being a creation of god that was created at a certain time.
The second view is considered invalid and rejected by all major sects of Islam in the modern era (Ashari, Maturidi, Athari) as a heretical belief that the Mutazilites (The Withdrawers) held. I'm not going to go into who they are, what is their history, or what are their beliefs (you can google it yourself). Just know these are the guys who believe the Quran was a creation of god and were condemned by pretty much every Islamic group and sect from their beginning all the way up to the present modern day. This is one the only issues where every Islamic sect agrees with each other in condemning this belief, be it Ashari, Maturidi, or Athari. Thus, the second option then is 100% of the table for most Muslims, unless they want to affirm holding beliefs of a heretical group that died out 1000 years ago. I don't think any Muslim will dare to affirm Mutazilite beliefs for fear of ridicule and committing major sins, so there's much here to discuss. For the sake of brevity, I will address the second view since the one even Muslims will deny and reject. After that, I'll address the A
The Second View
But for the sake of argument, I'll assume some rare brave Mutazilite Muslim wants to give it a try. Now, here are some of my questions for you. If the Quran is a creation of god and not the literal Word of God before time immemorial, what is the Quran's relationship with god? You believe these are still words from Allah that help mankind to arrive at the truth and Islam yet at the same you also believe that these were created at a time later than god. How can something that is both speech from god and also created by god himself exist simultaneously at the same time? Anything that is created at a later time means it's a creation, a contingent object that depends on an external creator. It can't be part of god because god is eternal, atemporal, necessary, and independent of everything and anything. If it were god or contained some part of god inside of it, then this is no different than Jesus and the Son of God in Christianity where it contains both a human and godly nature, so does that mean you now believe the Quran to be both god and creation? Just like the Christians who you condemn as a false corrupted religion? This is the First Problem you must face, that be affirming it is both from god and not god, you are throwing yourself into the same pit as Christianity with a dual nature which is already a false religion. I like to call people who affirm this stance "Dualists".
The Second Problem "dualists" face is that this nullifies the Quran's honorific status in Islam, which goes against what the majority of the Muslim world believes in. For Dualists, what is the Quran's honorific and spiritual status in Islam now? We've all seen Muslim riots and protests against the burning or stepping on the Quran by non-Muslims around the world. A man burns or rips up the Quran and the entire Muslim world goes into a frenzy. In Islam, simply placing the Quran on the floor is considered disrespectful and sinful. In the majority of sects today, the Quran must be honored and respected 24/7 partly due to the fact Muslims believe it to be the literal Word. But for Dualists, what is your stance and reason for continuing to respect the Quran? Considering you no longer believe the Quran to be the actual Word, can non-Muslims now vandalize, rip apart, step on, or place the Quran on the floor?? Would you have any problem with it? It's no longer the Word itself but a creation of god. Sure, you might ask others to "respect other religions and beliefs" but aside from this, what else do you have?? Is simply putting a religious book on the floor disrespecting other religions? What makes your holy book now any different from the Jewish and Christian perspectives on their religious books? They don't go into a frenzy every time Bibles are burned or disrespected. Will you do the same thing?
The Third Problem since it's a created thing, wouldn't this also mean that at some point in the future, the Quran no longer exists? That the Quran is finite and will at some point cease to exist? Wouldn't this mean at some point, Islam itself becomes useless because the number one source for everything, the Quran no longer exists? The Quran will cease to exist if it were created, when it happens, will the meaning of the verses and Muslim understanding built up over the centuries also cease to exist? Tafsirs, Fiqh, and Tajwid all suddenly become useless and void of any meaning because the backbone of Islam, the Quran no longer exists. What about the Muslim understanding of what Allah is? Isn't that detrimental should the Quran cease to exist? The best outcome is that Muslims still retain the knowledge but Islam becomes spineless without a religious book and the worst outcome is the complete disintegration of Islam as everything built upon the Quran, now becomes useless. It would mean the complete death of Islam as a major Abrahamic religion.
Next, what about during the Hour, when everything in the heavens and on the Earth will be destroyed and no longer exist? Muslims believe that when the Hour arrives, everything will be destroyed. Every human, child, animal, plant, planet, universe, devil, and angel will die inevitably. Only god remains. Due to this, according to Dualists, will the Quran experience the same fate? All of its verses and Surahs destroyed by god himself. Now I know Muslims, even those of other sects believe the Quran will disappear bit by bit before the Hour as a sign of the impending doom and apocalypse. However, other Muslims believe that yes, the Quran will disappear but the verses themselves remain preserved with god i.e. Allah since these are the literal words of god himself. In a sense, the verses suddenly don't exist, they return back to god.
TLDR, the Dualist Mutazilite view implies a contradiction where the Quran is both God and not God at the same time, it nullifies the Quran's holy status and the divine meaning of the verses, and last, it means the Quran is finite and will cease to exist at some point in the future.
Now, onto the Ashari, Maturidi and Athari sects,
The First View (The Majority)
These three are the most prominent and widely held doctrinal sects in the current Muslim population. I will be splitting the next sections into two sections, Ashari-Maturidi (since both are quite similar and considered a single unified school of thought by Muslim scholars) and the Athari school.
Ashari-Maturidi
The Asharis and Maturidis believe the Quran and its verses to be the literal Word of God itself, with Allah since eternity before time however they believe the book form of the Quran (mushaf), the one which every Muslim holds and reads is of man-made origin. In other words, the verses, sentences, letters, and meaning of the text are from god himself while the cover, paper, ink, writing, and publishing are from mankind. The Ash'ari creed makes a point of difference between the content of the Quran and the physical manifestation of it (in speech or as pages in a book).
The Main Problem with this argument as said by Atharis and Mutazilites is that this strips the Quran of its spiritual and holy essence in Islam. If the real divine aspect of the Quran that came from god itself are the verses and meaning of it only, then should we burn every last Quran in the world, it wouldn't be a problem. After all, the divine part still exists as it is from and with god himself, only the earthly worldly portions of it get destroyed. Why's that a problem? I mean what is the problem spiritually concerning Islam's doctrinal theology itself? What's the problem with destroying the cover or vandalizing the writing of it? It's not from god, it's man-made. The effect of this would be enormous.
This means now non-Muslims and Islamaphobes can now burn, rip, tear apart, step on, vandalize, and desecrate the Quran because they are only destroying the part that is not divine. Would Asharis or Maturidis agree to this? Is now destroying the Quran not a major sin but actually allowed? The true essence of the Quran i.e. the part that is truly divine remains preserved and exists since humans were created and will continue to exist long after everything has died and withered away. The vandalization and desecration of it does not affect the Quran because the true divine verses and meaning remain preserved. This problem is similar to the Second Problem with the Mutazilite belief, it nullifies and strips away the Quran's holy status and honorific place among the Muslim community. If it isn't truly god's divine word, what's the problem if it gets destroyed, wet, or burned?
Heck, I've heard this same argument from other sects, claiming and accusing the Ashari are just Mutazilites in disguise because their main stance of the Quran's identity revolves back to the Mutazilite position where the Quran is a creation of god. One of the main accusations against the Ashari sect is that it's just a rehash version of Mutazilite or Jahmiyyah theology (I don't have time to explain what this is right now, better if you look it up yourselves) due to similarities in doctrine and also because Imam Ashari, the founder was once a Mutazilite himself (not helping the Ashari case) but Asharis claim he renounced all Mutazilite theology and returned back to the true correct path. In this case, should the objection above against the Ashari-Maturidi position succeed, then it would help critics a lot against Asharism.
The Second Problem with holding the Ashari position is that this resembles the idolatry of Hinduism and Paganism or at least, is slipping into idolatry practice. If they claim the Speech of God is contained within the letters, pages, and ink of the Mushaf (the Quran's Uthmanic standardized codex), then how dare they believe the actions of humans can absorb and physicalize the Sacred Divine Speech of God, for Muslims believe god can never be limited by His creatures. This would also mean they believe the ink written on the Quran's pages is a physical intermediary, designed to encapsulate the Speech of God into a physical form, no different than the idols of Hindus and Pagans who believe their idols to be an intermediary or a worldly representation of the True Divine Nature.
Hindus don't claim they worship idols, rather they believe them to be ways to spiritually connect with the divine as a locus for prayer just like how Muslims consider the Kaaba as the direction for prayer, not an idol for worship or as a reminder for believers of the faith similar to how a photo of a spiritual leader is a sign of respect and a daily reminder every-day when you wake up. How is this different than believing the ink inside the Quran holds the truth or emulates the Divine Nature from the Ashari claim? Ashari Muslims affirm the Quran is still the Word of God just represented through a physical form, so how is this not idolatry? Believing that a physical human-made physical manifestation holds the Divine Speech so that followers of Islam can get closer to god?
This would be even worse than the Mutazilites, for committing idolatry whether intentionally or not is a major grave sin in Islam, to the point those that who commit it and do not repent back are considered as Kafir (infidels). If even they aren't committing idolatry and shirk (polytheism), another major sin in Islam, then at the very least, they believe that a divine part of God can be captured inside the ink and pen of writers as if they the Speech of God and the ink become one and the same, another reference to the Christian belief of God having both a Divine and Human Nature. Of course, Muslims and Ashari Muslims consider this to be heretical and blasphemous, but what's the difference between believing the Quran is both man-made and divine versus the Christological belief of Jesus being both God and Man?
The Third Problem with the Ashari answer that the Quran itself is created while the Speech of God isn't is where is the Speech of God then? Asharis can't answer that it is still in heaven for they also believe the Mushaf or Quran contains the Word and Speech of God. If they believe that it is still in heaven with god and not on earth, then what are they even reading every day? Clearly not the Speech of God if they claim it isn't with us now, perhaps an imperfect human copy of the divine Speech of God but that would mean the Quran is imperfect and the work of man, which would be affirming the Mutazilite position. So they can't claim it is both in the heavens and on the earth nor claim it is either in the heavens only or on the earth with mankind only.
I already explained they also can't say the Speech of God is contained inside the ink and letters of the Quran for that means the Divine Speech has become limited because of it. God in Islam can never be limited, nor can His creatures limit god. So if isn't option A, B, or C, where is the Holy Sacred Speech of God then? The Speech which is supposed to be the principle guiding force for all of mankind especially, Muslims. How can Asharis then claim they believe in the Quran as the revelation and Word of God sent down to Muhammad if they can't tell us where in their holy book, is the Speech of God itself? At worst, this means the Ashari belief entails the Quran isn't holy or divine thus eliminating Islam's entire main source and one of the 6 pillars of Iman (faith), and at best, reading the Quran isn't a holy act nor can be used as a book for guidance, for Muslims aren't reading the Word of God then. They are reading an imperfect fallible man-made copy of the Speech of God, not the true Divine Inspiration from Allah.
TLDR, the Ashari-Maturidi middle path that the Quran was uncreated and eternal, yet its ink and paper, individual letters and words were created strips the Quran has multiple problems, some may even go against what Islam stands for. It strips the Quran of its Divine Sacred Essence as the Word of God, at worse it may lead to shirk and idolatry akin to the Hindus and Pagans, and at best, Asharis can't point to us where the Word and Speech of God is in the Quran.
Athari/Ahlul Hadith
Now for the Atharis, they are strict literalists who believe the Quran and Allah's Speech both are uncreated unlike the Asharis/Maturidis who adopt a middle path, or the Mutazilite who outright claim the Quran was created, the extreme position.
The First Problem with the Athari position is pretty clear, if the Quran is the literal Word of God completely, then does that mean what Muslims are holding is a literal piece of God here on earth in the moral realm? Does that mean god is with us all the time? How can god, who Muslims consider as being transcendent be here on earth with mankind? If the Quran is the literal physical Speech of God and not just metaphorically or analogically, then does this mean the Speech of God exists on Earth? How can god be here on Earth? The Atharis believe literally that the Quran is the Speech of God, so unless they claim the Speech of God suddenly transformed into a physical object (which I'll address below), the Quran would be a god or at least have a piece of the divine essence of Allah.
This is no different than the Christian position where there exists a God in heaven and a God on Earth at the same time. As I already mentioned, Muslims consider the Christian position of a god on earth unacceptable yet when we look at their own views, we find (in the Athari case) a piece of god exists on earth. Allah still exists in the heavens, yet the Speech of God exists here in the Quran. Let's not even get into the issue of a transcendent god existing in the mortal physical realm, where the laws of physics govern meaning god would be limited in some capacity (which most Muslims would see as ridiculous)
The Second Problem is the relationship between the Quran (God's Speech) and God himself. Considering the Quran was revealed to Muhammad and sent down by Gabriel, how should we understand the Speech of God is here now? Do Atharis believe that the Speech of God suddenly separated from the main body when the Quran was revealed and sent down to earth? Or do Atharis believe the Quran is still the undivided Speech of God, in which case a part of god is literally on earth?
Or what about when the Quran was compiled in book form starting with Abu Bakr's reign and ending with Uthman's standardization? Should we take this to mean now not only does the Speech of God literally exist on earth but the Speech of God now has taken shape, molded into letters and words while compiled into a book equipped with paper pages and covers from front to back? If they want to deny these are from god i.e. the physical cover is man-made, then they would be subscribing to the Ashari-Maturidi doctrine of the middle path (which I already showed also has problems). If they want to take the other path and claim the Quran we have now is not the Word of God literally, then they would be subscribing to the heretical Mutazilite position which also, has tons of religious and doctrinal problems.
TLDR, the Athari literalist position invites more harm than good when it comes to answering the question of the Quran's uncreated nature. It would mean god is literally on earth, or a piece of god's divine essence is. Affirming that a piece of the Divine Essence exists here on earth with mankind would be something similar to the Christian belief that god exists both in the heavens and on earth (Father and Son). Other than that, it would also complicate the relationship between the Quran and God even more. If the Quran is the literal Word and Speech of God, how do Atharis explain the Quran's standardization into a single written book with ink, paper, and covers? Does it mean the Speech of God underwent a physical transformation?
Consequences
Islam posits the Quran to be the Word of God from Allah Himself, however how exactly does that work leads to massive problems within Islam's doctrinal framework. Muslims can't state the Quran is the true literal Speech of God otherwise they would be committing a blasphemous act by believing god is literally on earth with us at this very moment. They also can't deny it is the Speech of God for Islam considers the Quran to be the perfect Kalamullah (literally the Word of God). It is one of the core tenets of belief that Muslims believe the Quran to be the actual Words of God sent down to Muhammad as the last revelation. They also can't adopt a middle path like the Asharis-Maturidis because I've already shown that this just leaves the Quran inside a grey area, it's both the Word of God and also not the Word of God at the same time. Other problems are also relevant which I've already discussed above. Either the middle approach collapses into itself, becoming either one the extreme views, literal divine affirmation like the Atharis, or the extreme divine nullification like the Mutazilites.
Other religions don't have this problem. They do not believe Jesus or Moses were gifted the actual literal Words and Speech of God which existed since time immemorial. Christians believe the Bible was divinely authored by the Apostles of Jesus, where the Holy Spirit guides the writers of the Bible into writing down the true teachings of Jesus and Christianity. Christians don't believe the Bible's passages are the literal Speech of God which has existed with the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit as if affirming the Bible was also another Divine Person of the Trinity. No, only Muslims as far as I know affirm both their Holy Book contains the Speech of God which both exists on Earth and also with God up in heaven but that leaves them in a contradiction of whether to affirm the Quran is God Himself on Earth or the true Words of God are still up in heaven. After all, how can the Divine Nature which is uncorrupted and perfect exist in a world not perfect, but actually filled with sin, corruption, and spiritual pollution?
In the end, Muslims face a dilemma with regard to the Quran's Holy and Divine Nature. This a dilemma which after going through all the possible Muslim answers that have been given over the years, still fails to give us a proper satisfying answer.
Conclusion
All the responses and viewpoints of the major Islamic sects fail to answer the question, of whether the Quran is created or not. They tried to square a circle by trying to find a balance between affirming the Quran is the divine Word of God while at the same time not falling into a literalist interpretation where god is on Earth (as the Atharis do). However, all responses so far have failed to properly find the right solution, all either fall into extremities at both ends of the spectrum (Mutazilite and Athari) or tried to strike a balance, but only managed to kick the can down the road even further.
If Christianity has the Problem of the Trinity, a major fundamental question that still has philosophers and theologians scratching their heads trying to find an answer, then the Problem of the Quran's Nature is the Islamic version of it. The difference is while Christians continue to debate and argue about the Trinity's true nature, Muslim and Islamic scholars have relatively abandoned the debate, choosing to hold either one of the three major schools of thought. My personal opinion is this is an unfortunate situation, ever since the decline of philosophy in Islamic thought, Kalam and Falsafah (Islamic philosophy) have gained a bad reputation amongst Muslims as being a "gateway to blasphemy". Rarely you will find Muslim scholars in the modern era debate about this, let alone teach laymen Muslims about these topics.
At the very least, I hope my post can inspire future Muslims to look into this topic further, creating new fascinating answers and arguments that contribute to the Muslim and non-Muslim understanding of what Allah is in Islam.

I am a software engineer (SWE) and I was making a professional networking app for this company.
I was connecting it to their existing Wordpress site via APIs.
They fired me claiming I didn’t know the language I was writing in (boss wasn’t a dev and didn’t know it existed before me), I didn’t know WP APIs (connecting this way isn’t documented well and was my first time so I had trouble but I got it done in the end), and lied in the interview about my skills.
I was there for 2 months. Shitty place. There were other red flags that I chose to ignore.
I feel like I wasted time I could have been using looking for more reliable job while I was working there.
Now I feel hopeless, like I’ll never get a stable job, and pissed off.
My background is: I’ve been programming since I was 13. Started with HTML/CSS + PHP blog and moved to WordPress and then MySQL and now I’ve dabled in react, angular, MSSQL and all the C langs. I’m trying to be well rounded. Professionally, I got my degree in 2013 as an IT Management which didn’t require higher level math or an internship and then never used the degree cause I’m an idiot. (Though I don’t fully regret it because I met my husband)
I was retail until 2022 when I got a 11-month SWE job but they wanted senior and I was fully honest about being JR. fired me. That was last year. Since then I worked for another company that barely paid me enough to live. So I moved from FL to Austin, TX and got another job in December. That one I got in August or September. So only a few months. The one in December laid me off in Feb due to financial issues (supposedly). Said they would hire me back though.
Then I was unemployed for a month and got this last job in March.
So I have a spotty professional career but I have been practicing and learning so much in my free time that I consider myself a senior front end SWE and JR back end SWE or JR full stack SWE.
Been applying for jobs over the last 2 weeks but I know the market is crap.
I’m worried I’ll run out of TX unemployment and then have to get retail jobs which will barely pay me enough to live.
We don’t live extravagant. Husband has celiac disease. We shop at Whole Foods but frequently check prices between HEB and Walmart and target and everywhere else is more expensive for what we get. We stick with chicken and shrimp and salads mostly.
All our expenses are the lowest they can be. We rarely eat out and don’t spend money on things we don’t need. Husband is very frugal and isn’t even getting his hair cut until I have a job. I don’t cut my hair or do my nails or do any of that girly crap. I hate coffee so we don’t spend on that stuff either.
We frequently make sure our bills/expenses are as low as possible.
Yet $50k a year or less after taxes will not sustain us. Husband has Autism so can’t work. Once I get a job he plans to sell coral so he will have some income and he has some disability from the VA but that’s it.
My last job was paying us $100k and we barely saved $1k/mo due to expenses. Again nothing changed between then and now. We spend the same amount.
So now I feel like I’m gonna have to get 2 jobs if I don’t get a job and I’ll never see my husband and I don’t want to live like that.
How do I deal with the disappointment of being fired for a lie and not having a stable job/income ? I feel like I’m drowning.

Firstly, I should say I’ve never suffered from OCD or any other disorder.
Since someone pointed out how little people can be paid in Bahrain and how hours some people have to work in a day, I have felt a huge impending sense of doom and it’s making me act dumb.
I won’t go into details but all I do on weekends now is drive around looking for construction workers to give water to. I literally drive around for hours and hours looking for people to give water to.
I don’t particularly want to anymore and I don’t think it particularly helps anyone, but if I stop it’s like my stomach turns to stone and it’s all I can think about - sometimes I even cry a little when I’m at social events instead of driving round.
It’s getting worse. If I give workers some bottles of water I get paranoid that I didn’t give them enough or maybe I didn’t see someone and they will miss out. Sometimes I worry someone will take all the water and stop the other workers from getting it.
I’ve started thinking that actually water is a really dumb thing to give people and it doesn’t really help so I sometimes give out 1BD notes.
Can someone please tell me that anything I do doesn’t help so that I can I
Don’t DM me asking for financial help. You won’t get it.

Hey everyone!
My partner and I have entered a DJ competition in Spain, and the winner gets the chance to perform with some of the biggest names in the underground dance scene, including MCDE, Jayda G, Mochakk, and Bonobo to name a few. We've been mixing for a few years, but we've never had the chance to make it to the big stage, so this opportunity would be a dream come true!
Here's our mix: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fq0h4auH1sU&t=888s
To advance to the next round, we need to be among the top 25 contestants with the most votes. If you like our mix, we would really appreciate your vote. Here’s how you can help:

1. Click this link: https://madcooltalent.com/entries/975881 and look for "DISKOS ILUSTRADOS."
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We know this is a big ask, but we're reaching out everywhere for support, and any would be super appreciated 🫶. Thank you so much for helping us chase our dream!

First/Previous
The travel took on a less gloomy quality in the day that passed since Gemma’s self-reflection and although there remained a queer distance in her eyes, she seemed in better spirits in losing the weight of the words.
It was a night just beyond Wabash Crevasse that we pushed on till sunset was almost upon us and we were each tired and the food stocks ran low and so we found harbor in a half collapsed cellar where a home once stood; it was only after examining the slatted, rotted boards of the old place, fallen over, tired with decay, that we spied the cellar doors intact; sheets of door metal plied us with safety from the outside world and the interior of the place stank of mold and the deeper recesses were collapsed, but there was a cradle to crossbar the stair hatch and I put my prybar there for the night. We finished the water and canned tomatoes, and I smoked a cigarette, staving off the inevitable doom which would come with the dwindling of our supplies.
I’d peeked through the space where the doors met at the cellar’s entry and watched the full darkness there while the youngins spoke of life and the trivial pursuits of it and I hardly said a word besides.
Sitting on the lowest step with Trouble dumbly maintaining her station by me, by the low glow of the space in the threshold, I saw they’d pushed their bedrolls together and Andrew had fallen asleep with his arm over Gemma’s shoulder and her eyes glowed with shine from the crack, blinked a few times while seeing me; she too eventually drifted to sleep, and I spent time by the secured door.
Gunshots rang across the stillness, and they stirred from their quiet slumber and Gemma asked, “Harlan, is it alright?”
I moved to the space there at the doorway again and listened and watched what I could through that crack and nothing beyond came. “It’s safe. I’ll be up a bit longer. I’ll watch.”
Andrew asked, “Can’t sleep?”
“I’ll sleep in a bit. Don’t worry about me. Rest. Sleep good and we can put more behind us.
They sat up, legs crossed triangle-wise, and Gemma spoke again, “Why do you have such a hard time sleeping? It seems I’m asleep after you and only awake after you too.”
“Yeah,” said Andrew.
“It’s cool at night. I can listen to the wind.” I shrugged.
“You should be the one that tries to get some sleep,” said Andrew.
I said nothing.
They reached out their arms and I shook my head.
“Here,” Gemma said, “Move your bedroll closer.” She reached across the dirt floor of the cellar and dragged my splayed roll so that it sat beside hers.
“I’ll sleep later.” I turned my attention back to the door and ignored them till their sounds of sleep could be heard. The Alukah was nowhere and did not tap on the door that night and when I moved to sleep, I shimmied onto the roll beside them, facing away on my shoulder; the dog followed, laid on the bare dirt beside me and I held the mutt.
Though I refused a noise as they stirred in the absolute darkness, I felt Gemma’s arm fall over my own shoulder and felt Andrew’s hand touch my back, and water traced the bridge of my nose and I slept deeply thereafter.
There was no breakfast without food, and the water was gone; I felt the eyes of the dog on us as we packed up our belongings that next morning and I tried not to imagine the poor animal skinned over fire. I smiled at Trouble, patted its head, scratched its chin; she sniffed my hand like she was looking for something that wouldn’t be found.
We went west again, ignoring roads and pushed through straight wasteland where nothing was and no one was, and with every dry footfall on the dry hard ground, I wished for rain, and I wished that when it had rained, as infrequent as it was, that I had been wise enough to save what we could from the sky; that sky was red and swollen and refused to burst. We pushed on through strange dead thickets where grayed and twisty yellow branches lurched from the ground into the sky like even they too wished for an end to all the suffering. It was days more till we would see Alexandria and though I could stave off hunger (thirst too, if necessary), I was not so certain that the children would be able to push on without it; they did not complain and watched the ground in our march and maintained higher spirits than I could’ve imagined from them.
Early in the day, they spoke often, and I listened and as they wore on, their words came less and even the dog seemed in a lower mood for the unsaid predicament; me too.
Gemma broke the silence on the matter by saying, “What are we going to do about food? Water?”
“We’ll push on.”
“We could turn back?” asked Andrew.
“The more time we spend out in the open, outside of a city, the more likely it is that the Alukah will catch us unawares. Tighten your belts.” Our feet took us around a dilapidated truck, an old thing with a rusty hook which dangled off a rear arm. “Save your urine.”
They made faces but did not protest.
“Does that work? You ever drink pee?” asked Andrew.
I laughed, “I thought we’d be there by now. I took us too long by trying to drop the scent of the Alukah. That thing’s hunted us for days—last night was the first time it ain’t bothered us. It’s got me wondering why.”
Gemma piped up, licking her dry lips before speaking, “Do you think that monster ran into those scavengers we saw?” Then I caught her shooting a look at Andrew, “At least we warned them.” Her smile was faint and almost indiscernible as one.
I shrugged. “Can’t say. Don’t think it’s smart to turn back. Won’t be long and we’ll touch the 40 and then it’ll be a straight on to Babylon—couple of days—can’t turn back though. Maybe without food; that’s doable. Water’s the worst, but if it comes to it,” I paused and looked on the weathered faces of the children, on the lowered head of Trouble which followed her nose across the ground (it searched just short of frantic), “Like I said, ‘save your urine’.”
The first pains of hunger held within me brought up some reminiscence and I wished for nothing more than to hold Suzanne; I could nearly smell them and in the swaying walk which took us on past toppled townships, I held long blinks where I could nearly make out their face and if I really pushed the limits of my imagination, I could feel them. In those moments, as we passed dead places, rotted pits of despair, I could think of little more than their presence. Though I knew it was a dangerous game, hoping for more than I was worth, I hoped for Suzanne then and I wished that I’d taken them up on their offer to travel to Alexandria with them; it could’ve been home—it never was in all the times I’d gone there, but who knows? The thoughts of Babylon brought forth their gardens; the wild gardens and the water which flowed freely through their pipes. I wished I was a different person entirely and that too would’ve been better for Suzanne; how it was that they’d seen anything in me, I don’t know. How it was that they could stoop to the level of being with someone like me—I warded off that thought, because to place the blame there would certainly be unfair. I thought of my love plainly and wanted a different life more suited to them.
Imaginations played more furiously, and I remembered the evening when Dave stopped me from leaping from that roof—it’s doubtful that he even realized that he’d slowed my demise; perhaps he did know—I wished then that I could ask him. Too kind for the world. People too kind for the world were scarce and hardly worth the trouble. Yet, there I was, chaperoning those two across the wastes.
Gemma was a broken person when I’d found her, tortured in Baphomet’s well; Andrew was a dullard boy who’d lost his hand. What a silly predicament.
I stopped in my movements and swiveled on my heel to catch Andrew by the shoulder. “You still got your hand, don’t you?”
In good humor, the boy grinned, lifted the nub on the end of his left forearm to show me, “Nope.”
“Dammit, no! The hand in the jar!”
Andrew raised his eyebrows. “In my pack.”
“Stop,” I commanded Trouble; the dog hardly recognized my words and continued a way then circled back, sad eyes looking up from where she took to sit by my side. Gemma, both arms dangling loosely from her own pack’s shoulder straps, took into the circle we’d formed.
The girl asked, “What about the jar? It’s nasty, but I guess it’s his.”
“I think that’s it,” I said. I took Andrew by his shoulders, looked him in his eyes, “We could use it!”
“What?” The boy almost laughed in the display of our concern. “What’s that got to do with anything?”
“I think I’ve got it! It’s good for a trap.” I shook him; maybe too hard. I almost smiled. “It’s worth a shot!”
“It’s mine.” He bit his top lip, withdrew from me.
“You’ll feel differently about that,” I said.
Gemma placed a hand on Andrew’s pack and tried ripping it open. “Give it to him!” shouted the girl.
The boy whipped from her grasp, and he spun on his feet, and panic stood on his face. “It’s mine, isn’t it?”
I took a step forward, “No, not anymore.” I put out my palm, “Give it.”
Andrew nearly flinched at the thought of it and shook his head a little. “Why?”
“I told you why,” I said.
“You don’t even know if it’ll work, do you?” his words were long in protest.
The girl started again, “Andrew, please.”
He locked eyes with Gemma and once again, his bottom teeth came up to meet over his top lip and he moved his jaw methodically with contemplation.
“What does it even matter?” she asked.
“It’s mine. You don’t know what it’s like.”
“Don’t be ridiculous!”
“C’mon,” he said, but his pack straps fell from his shoulders, and he hunkered down on the ground and opened his bag; his right hand plunged into the recesses therein and withdrew the jar with his severed left hand. He held the object up, refusing to come up from his open pack, keeping his eyes on the ground. “Take it then.” He shook the jar; its contents sloshed with liquid decay.
I grabbed the thing, held it to skylight; the remains within had congealed and rotted and lumps nearly floated in the brownish liquid which had formed in the base of the container. I shook it and stared for a moment at the miniscule debris which floated alongside the hand; each of its digits had swollen and erupted to expose bone; some had come away in pieces. “Tomorrow,” I said and nodded.
We gathered ourselves and Andrew pulled his pack on again and we moved, Trouble still looked sorry and the boy remained quiet while the girl chattered on with questions while we took through the dying ground in a formation with the dog on point then me then the children.
“What will you do with it?” she asked me.
“Not sure yet.”
Andrew made a noise like he wanted to say something but didn’t.
“You think it will work?” asked Gemma.
“Nothing’s a guarantee. They’re smart—Alukah.”
“Smart enough to figure out a trap?”
I shrugged. “We’ll find out.”
“We could put stakes in a pit.”
“Keep on the lookout for a building. Something with multiple floors.”
With that, we moved on, found a worn, mostly destroyed road and we fell into a travelling quiet and the thought of hunger or thirst arose again, and I pushed it down—though I knew the uneasiness could only last so long before savagery would overtake the human condition; the kids seemed strong enough, but I kept an eye on the dog too. Savagery belonged not only to humans, after all.
The ground of the wastes was harder when it was quiet, and it was flatter further west. The sky—red and full of thin and transparent drifting clouds—seemed an awful sight when stared at for too long; it was the thing which stretched as if to signal there wasn’t an end in any direction, as if to declare we had much more to go till safety. Wanderlust is a thing that I believe I’ve felt before, but under that sky, with those two and the dog, I didn’t feel it at all. It was doom that I felt. Ignorance and doom. And it was all because I was certain I’d made all the wrong mistakes, and it was coming back to me. I was experienced. We should’ve had food and water. Perhaps there was some deep and nasty part inside of me that had intended to sacrifice them along the way. The words of the Alukah might have rung true: You say you make no deals, but I smell it. I think you’d deal.
Surely, I felt differently. Surely.
“Getting darker,” called Andrew as we came to where signposts—worn and bent and barely legible—told us of a place once called Annapolis and the buildings were nearly gone entirely; places, maybe places that were once homes, were leveled—I was briefly caught in imagining what it might’ve been like all those ages ago. As are most places, it was haunted like that and when we came to a long rectangular structure of metal walls—thin walls—we took it as a place for rest for the night.
It once served as an agricultural station, for when we breached its entry, there were a line of dead machines—three in all—cultivators or tillers which stood higher than any of our heads and Gemma asked what they were, and I told her I thought they were for farming. The great rusted bodies stood in quiet shadow as we came through a side passage of the building and the great doors which had once been used to release those machines from the building stood frozen in their frame. I approached the doors, lighting my lantern and motioning for the children to shut the door we’d entered through.
Upon closer inspection, it seemed the doors would roll into the ceiling and the chains which held the doors in place were each secured with rusted padlocks—I removed my prybar from my pack and moved along the wall of doors, giving each old lock a smack with the weapon; each one held in place, seemingly fused there through years of corrosion, and I rounded the cultivators once more, back to the children, near the side door where they’d discovered a rickety stair frame which crawled up the side of the wall to a catwalk; along the catwalk, a levitated box stood at the height of the structure, stilted by metal legs, and we took the stairs slowly with the dog following close behind; the poor mutt was mute save the sound of its own shuffling paws.
The metal stairs creaked under our weight and Gemma held her own lantern high over her head so that the strange shadows of the place grew longer, stranger, and suddenly I felt very sure that something was in the dark with us, but there was no noise except what we made. My eyes scanned the darkness, and I followed the children up the stairs till we met the overhang of the catwalk and I peered into the shadows, the blades of the cultivators—far extended on foldable arms—struck up through the pool of blackness beneath us and I felt so cold there and if it were not for the breath of my fellow travelers, I might have been lost in the dark for longer than intended—lost and frozen and contemplative.
“There’s a room,” said the boy, and he pushed ahead on the hanging passage, and he was the first to the door. “Boxes,” he said plainly.
Upon coming to the place where he stood, Gemma pushed her lantern over the threshold, and I saw what he’d meant as I traced my own lantern to help; the room was crammed with plastic totes and old metal containers of varied sizes. There seemed to be enough empty space to maneuver through the room, but only if one watched their feet while they walked. Carefully.
We moved to the room, and I found a stack of crates to place my lantern then motioned for Gemma to douse hers. In minutes, the place was rearranged so that we could sit comfortably on the floor; crates lined the walls precariously and we breathed heavy from the work done, but we began to unpack and upon watching the children while I rolled a cigarette, I felt a pang of guilt, a terrible summation—all choices in my life had led me here and with them and perhaps it would have been a better world for them without me.
Mentally shrugging this thought away, I lit my cigarette, inhaled deeply, and then withdrew the jar which Andrew had handed over. I held it to the lantern to examine it. The grotesqueness of it hardly phased me and I watched it more curious and hopeful than disgusted.
“I hope it’ll work,” said the boy, “Whatever it is that you plan on doing with it.” He grimaced and maintained a further silence in patting his bedding for fluff. The dog moved to him, and she pushed her forehead against him where he squatted on floor. The boy scratched Trouble’s chin and whispered, “Good girl,” into the top of her head where he’d pushed his own face.
“I’m hungry,” said Gemma; she placed her chin in her arm while watching Andrew with the dog. She sat on her own flat bed there on the floor and stated plainly the thing that I’d hoped to ignore for longer.
“I know.” I took another drag from the cigarette and let the smoke hang over my head. “The dog?”
Andrew recoiled, pulling Trouble closer into his arms.
I smiled. “It was a joke.”
Andrew relaxed, but only a moment before Gemma added, “Maybe.”
The boy narrowed his eyes in the girl’s direction, and she shrugged. “If it’s life or death.”
He didn’t say anything and merely continued stroking Trouble’s coat.
That night, we slept awfully and even in the complete darkness, I felt the cramp of the storage room and the angled shapes of the tools that protruded from the containers on all sides remained permanent well after we’d turned the light off and it felt like those shapes were the teeth of a great creature like we were sitting inside of its mouth, looking out.
Trouble positioned herself partially on my chest, her slow rhythmic breathing brought my thoughts calm and I whispered to her in the dark after I was sure the others were asleep, “I promise it was a joke.” And I brushed the back of her neck with my hand and the animal let go of a long sigh then continued that deep rhythmic breathing.
Still without food or water, the following day was the true indication of the misery to come. Gemma’s stomach growled audibly in waking and Andrew—though he kept his complaints to himself—smacked his lips more often or protruded the tongue in his mouth in a starvation for water. The room, in the daylight which peered through pinpricks of its half-decayed roof, seemed another beast altogether from its nighttime counterpart; it was not so frightening. Again, I admonished myself for the lack of preparation, but there was another thought that brought together a more cohesive feeling; we had a possible plan, a trap for the demon that’d been following us.
We went into the field to the west of the building where there was only dirt beneath our feet in the early sunlight and in the coolness of morning air, I nearly felt like a person. The sun crested the horizon and brought with it a warmth that would quickly become overwhelming—in those few minutes though—it felt good enough. I wished for the shy dew and saw none. The weirdness of holding Andrew’s rotting hand in a jar momentarily caught me and I almost laughed, but refrained and the dog and the children looked on while I held the container up and suddenly, seeing the congealed mass of tissue floating in its own excretions, I was overcome with the urge to run, the urge that nothing would ever be right again in my life, and that I was marked to be that way.
I blinked and tossed the jar to Andrew. “Say goodbye,” I said. He fumbled after it with his right hand and caught it to his chest.
“It’s strange you care so much anyway,” said Gemma, shrugging—her eyes forgave a millisecond of pity and when Andrew looked at her, still holding the jar in his right hand, she smiled and stuffed her hands into the pockets of her pants.
“We’ve enough oil, I think,” my voice was raspy from it being early, “Enough for good fire, but if we use it, it’ll mean a few more dark nights on our way.”
“We’re going to set it on fire?” Andrew pondered, keeping his eyes to the contents of the jar. “It worked good enough last time. It’ll work,” I nodded, “I has to, doesn’t it?”
His dry lips creased into a brief smile, and he tossed the jar back to me and I caught it.
“Let’s dig,” I said.
Without much in the way of proper tools, we began at the ground under us with our hands, then taking turns with my prybar till there was a hole in the ground comfortably large enough to conceal a human head and I uncapped the jar and spilled it contents there and we covered it back and I lightly tamped it with my boot. My eyes scanned the outbuilding we’d taken refuge in the night prior and then to the street to the north then to the houses which stood as merely rotted plots of foundation with frames that struck from the ground more as markers than support. “I’ll take up over there across the street when it gets dark. I want you two in that storage room before anything goes off.”
“We can’t help?” asked Gemma.
“You can help by staying out of the way—the mutt too,” I said; the words were harsh, but my feelings were from worry.
“Wouldn’t it be better if we stuck together?” asked the girl.
I shook my head. “You stay in the room and keep quiet. No matter what you hear, you stay quiet and safe.”
“That’ll put you at a bigger risk,” Gemma furrowed her brow at me and shifted around to look out on the houses across the street, “There’s hardly any cover over there.”
The boy nodded, smacked his lips, and rubbed his forearm across his mouth then audibly agreed with her.
“Doesn’t matter,” I said, “No matter what you hear happening outside, no matter, you don’t open the door and you don’t scream—don’t make a noise at all. Alright? Even if you hear me calling you, you don’t do it.”
“Pfft,” Gemma crossed her arms and kicked her foot against the ground. The way her eyes seemed hollowed with bruising showed that the irritation would only grow without food. “Alright,” she finally sighed.
Andrew looked much the same as she did in that; he swallowed a dry swallow then stuffed his hand into his pocket and looked away when our eyes matched.
We gathered our light oil. Altogether, it seemed enough; rummaging through the room of the outbuilding we’d earlier taken refuge within, we managed three intact glass containers—the only ones found that wouldn’t leak with liquid; two were bottles and the third was the jar that’d once kept Andrew’s hand. With that work done, we sat with three Molotov cocktails within our huddled circle of the storage room.
“Is it enough?” asked Gemma.
“We’ll see,” I began rolling a cigarette to ignore the hunger and the thirst.
Andrew took to the corner and glanced over his shoulder only a moment before a steady liquid stream could be heard and when he rotated from the wall once the noise was finished and he held a canteen up to his nose, sniffed it and quivered and shook his head.
As the sun pushed on, I scanned the perimeter outside, and they followed. Far south I spied a mass of shadow inching across the horizon and Gemma commented, “What’s that?”
I pushed the binoculars to her and let her gaze through them.
“A fiend—that’s what we called it back in the day anyway. A mutant.”
She held the binoculars up and frowned. “A mutant? So, it was once human?”
“A fiend was once many humans.” I pointed out to the horizon though she couldn’t see me doing so and continued, “If you look at the edges of its shape, you’ll see it’s got limbs galore on it. Sticking up like hairs is what it’ll look like at this distance. Those are arms and legs. It’s got faces too. Many faces.” I shuddered.
“I can barely see any details,” she passed the binoculars to Andrew, and he looked through them, “What’s it do?”
“What?” I asked.
“What’s it do if it catches a person?”
“It pulls people into it. Makes you apart of its mass. Nasty fuckers.”
Andrew removed the lenses from his eyes and held them to his chest and asked, “It won’t mess up your trap, will it?”
“We’ll keep an eye on it,” I said, “You don’t want to mess with a fiend unless you have to.”
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Archive

I come from a small country at 18 I've been in sales door-to-door and phone sales I've had 12 employers, and after 2 years everything changed.
Later I started with website developing WordPress businesses to the same principle calling Google Maps companies.
At that time I met a client and started helping them look for new clients for their cleaning company business with +100 employees and also started with real estate I still knew and hadn't signed any contract I just had a verbal agreement for a deal that 50% of profit after sell and rent will be mine.
We built a hostel, I started making marketing for our business, we started with handmade clay buttons for luck, and employed the disabled people I got a deal to start selling in a store. Then COVID came and destroyed the business.
I've found the office, negotiated for price, and found the constructors to renovate the place.
Then we bought another place as well for 49.000€ 35m2 but prices in my country are absurd nowadays, especially for the location.
I've started managing the booking and have been done a few times in a row Airbnb superhost.
2 years ago everything changed…My business partner fell into a coma after 1 month he woke up and survived but when he woke up he forgot everything, his wife hates me because we spent much time growing the business. Before she wanted a divorce and he built her a new house just to leave him alone.
After that day I lost the apartment, 5.000-15.000€ on rent hostel and Airbnb every month, 400.000€ with selling renovated places and much more I lost my best friend.
My immune system crashed I've got food intolerance on nearly everything I've got rashes on my skin.
All the money I've had I spent on doctors, acupuncture, etc… now it's better but it still has not completely disappeared.
After a year I opened a new company for selling silver jewelry but the market in my country was too small and couldn't sell enough.
Website businesses stopped working, small businesses stopped investing in marketing.
Then I decided to go and leave my country now I found a job as a waiter on a luxury cruise ship on the way to the US I had a B1/B2 (I can open a company or look for a job) visa for 10 years.
I plan to stay in the US but where should I start?
What you will do in my position I am 26 with $10k?

1. Selling again (phones, door to door, cars…
2. Marketing helps business to grow their business (I've helped many to grow their business)
3. WordPress, Shopify websites
4. Learn new skills (plumbing, carpenter)
5. Resell items on eBay
6. I have also a hypnosis certificate

I have had a long journey with this company, so I will tell the story in a chronological manner.
Jan 23 to Jun 23 - I had very smooth interviews with this company conducted over a few rounds, and all went well. My recruiter told me that the co is willing to offer me the job.
Sep 23 - Still no signs of offer, and the co admitted that there's some operational issue that they are looking to resolve. Hiring will be postponed to 2024.
Now, let's fast forward to 2024 and things are picking up again...
Feb 24 - I had a follow up call with the hiring manager, who told me that the operational issue is on track to be resolved and that they will finalise the hiring process by end of May 2024, and for me to start in Aug 2024.
Apr 24- Had a follow up meeting with the hiring manager, who explained in details about the job scope, the responsibilities, and the operational issue that's being resolved.
Early May 24- Recruiter told me that HR got back, and that they are very happy with me and they wanted to hire me. Talked about monetary terms (not specific, but rough numbers), and I agreed to the terms. HR then proceed to put together a package to be approved by the HQ.
Mid May 2024 (now) - This is where I get slightly nervous. I was told that I should expect an offer this week, and it's already Friday and it's been radio silence. Normally I would have been patient, but I was traumatised by the experience in 2023 where the co had to delay the hiring process. Is this going to happen again?
A few more points to consider:
This is a pretty senior role, where I will be heading up a team
It's a large company with > 50000 employees
It's an European company (do they tend to be slower than US companies?)
I have stayed in contact with all the relevant parties (hiring manager, recruiter) throughout this time, and I don't feel neglected/ignored
I have not resigned, and I am continuing to work at my current company, so no pressure there (but I do want to move)
A few questions from me:
What does it exactly mean when they said the 'package to be approved by the HQ'? What's needed to be done, how long is this process? Are European companies slower in general?
I am still on track (based on what hiring manager said about end May 2024), but why would he told me to expect an offer this week and not deliver it? That's making me uncomfortable.
Is this going to be a replay of last year's delay in hiring? Red flags?
Am I being too impatient? Should I be nervous? How frequent should I follow up?

A number of fans of the Homeworld (HW) Universe have put a lot of thought and effort into their posts and that’s a testament to the passion that HW has brought to a lot of people.
I want to start by stating it pains me to say HW 3, especially the campaign has been a disappointment. Did we know what we were getting? Yes we had clues. Did we know the potential that HW 3 could have been based on the previous games? Oh there was immense potential!
The Homeworld series has been my favourite games (including mods) since the release of HW 1 in 1999 and I was a FIG backer for HW 3. None of the games have been perfect, but the storytelling left a long term impression and naturally the desire to want more from the series and continue to story. This has led to a loyal fan base including myself. I remember reading the HW1 manual and details about the Kushan Kiithid and the ships details numerous times.
Some of the epic storytelling events in the series that have made Homeworld what it is:
· The Kushan Kithid feuding for generations on a desert planet, Kharak, to then discover an ancient starship (Khar-Toba) buried in the desert sands. The genetic study also revealing they were not native to the planet.
· Discovering the Guide Stone in the Khar-Toba with a map pointing out Hiigara “Home”
· Discovering a Hyperspace Core and the Kiithid coming together to build the Mothership with Karan S’Jet integrated as Fleet Command
· Kharak burning – What treaty did the Kharak people break and what was their past? The war with the Taiidan Empire begins to reclaim their home.
· The Garden of Kadesh and realising they were part of the same race.
· The Bentusi and discovering why the people of Hiigara were exiled to the far reaches of the galaxy.
· Defeating the Taiidan Emperor, Riesstiu IV, and taking back Hiigara
· Learning more about the Kiithid in Cataclysm, the Beast, and the Bentusi’s fear – “We shall not be bound”
· Bentus sacrificing itself so the Hiigarans and Karan S’Jet could re-unite the 3 Hyperspace Cores
· Progenitor Relics, ships and guardians
· Balcora Gate and the battle to recovering the third Hyperspace core from Makaan (who believed he was the Sajuuk-Khar) and the Vagyr
· Transferring from the mothership to the long-lost Progenitor starship Sajuuk. Seeing the mothership drift away. It was a memorable moment .
· Saving Hiigara from the Scorched Earth scenario. The fleet fought hard to save Hiigara and their people.
· The Eye of Aaran which Sajuuk and the 3 hyperspace cores unlocking the vast hyperspace gate network. Hiigara opened up a trade/exploration/colonisation network across the galaxy and beyond. Not just for them, but for all civilisations.
Finally the day comes when the HW3 Collector’s Edition arrives after waiting years as a FIG Backer. It was amazing. The artwork was beautiful. The models were great and go well with the HW2 collector’s edition. After so many years, HW3 was finally here!
I finished the HW3 campaign a couple of nights ago. First there was anger, frustration, followed by mourning the loss of such a great opportunity that could have been for the Homeworld Universe. After playing 4 previous HW games for years, it feels like the team that wrote the HW3 script really did not understand the franchise, storyline to date, and its ‘spirit’.
After watching the promotional videos from the team from Blackbird Interactive saying HW3 was for the fans that have been with them along the 25 year journey (Relic Entertainment back then) the disappointment was very real. Sure it’s a visually beautiful game and some of the game features are an improvement which they couldn’t do in HW 1 and 2, but this did not feel like a continuation for the long term fans. This felt like a simpler HW labelled game for a new fan base. Such a missed opportunity! There has been the release of Homeworld Mobile and the VR version so Gearbox are looking to maximise the revenue while they can, and I can’t blame them for that.
My HW3 opinion:
· Aesthetically, HW3 is stunning
· I really like the look of the Khar-Kushan Mothership
· Deserts of Kharak showed the struggle and Kiithid conflict aswell as how difficult life was on a Desert Planet. HW1 was about the Kushan coming together to fight for their true home after Kharak was burned. Cataclysm did a good job expanding the different Kushan (now Hiigaran) Kiithid. HW2 felt like an “unbound” storyline with the three Hyperspace Cores – Karan got her time in the limelight – the three cores and Sajuuk combined was the key to the hyperspace network and “The Age of S’Jet”. HW3 continued with a focus on being ‘unbound’ lacking the substance behind who the Hiigarans are and their history, even before their exile…a missed opportunity.
· Popular fan request – Let us finish collecting resources! Imogen and the fleet were being hunted so I understand the urgency behind the gameplay…….but still, the player should have the option to jump when they want to.
· Besides one interceptor getting stuck on an object on mission 13, I had a pretty smooth gaming experience. The intelligence of the fleet and formations was a bit dodgy which required a lot of micro management.
· Cinematics between missions. The quality varied. Feels like more time and money was spent on the development of each one instead of a decent storyline. Why did it need to be done when you compare to the predecessor games? Likely because this game was more character focussed instead of a Fleet Focus.
· Khar-Kushan colliding with the giant freighter. That would have caused catastrophic damage and serious structural integrity issues. It seemed a bit too much! An evasive manoeuvre which led to the Synth Hyperspace Core housing being damaged as it clipped the freighter would have been enough to temporarily take out, power, propulsion and two out of the three cores.
· Ship designs were bland and generic lacking the HW2 creativity. Hiigarans have discovered quite a bit of Progenitor tech so why are they still stuck with the same types of weapons.
· No Sub Systems compared to HW2
· No targetable ship components e.g. engines, primary weapon etc. compared to HW2
· IMO the fleet ship types and options were far inferior to HW 1 & 2. It felt dumbed down significantly.
· One kind of Corvette……..really???
· Hiigaran Carrier….horrible design and couldn’t keep up with the Khar-Kushan.
· Why no Ship Yard? I can understand the Khar-Kushan had capital ship building capabilities, but it still would have added flexibility in Fleet logistics.
· Fleet control options were not great and missing a few options compared to HW 1 & 2. When you have a fast paced fleet battle going on, you want to minimise the time it takes to search for ship order functions.
· Using classic controls with terrain tunnels sucked. I struggled with the camera view because of the terrain. Too often I was met with blue screen because the camera was inside a structure or terrain.
· The antagonist – The Queen of Incarnate, Tiaa’Ma. An Unbound that has been around for millennia with far superior knowledge and use of hyperspace, can move and destroy planets on a whim, can turn off hypergates or redirect them. With that kind of power, why didn’t she hunt down the cores and search the galaxy for them? A tyrant that has killed millions. The Queen in general as the antagonist and the campaign ending was incredibly bad.
· With the 3 Hyperspace Cores gone, the 15^th fleet are not the only ones stranded. The Hyperspace gate network is down for all civilisations. Far jumping is gone. What detrimental effect will that have on the galaxy at large including the Hiigaran colonies, economy, diplomatic relations with other civilisations etc.?
· Imogen’s choice not to engage with the Incarnate after their Queen was gone was poor form!
· Imogen S’Jet – The hair…dry and wet…WTF
· I personally wanted to learn more about the Progenitor. Instead, I got hive mind Progenitor worshipers and still very little information about them or those who created the cores and the gates etc.
· Sajuuk combined with the three hyperspace cores was the key to opening the Hyperspace Gates. It was a superior ship IMO. So where is Sajuuk now? Were the 3 cores removed and put into a new mothership (Khar-Sajuuk) with the primary weapon looking like a mini Sajuuk sticking out of the centre of the ship. If it is the Sajuuk with the Mothership built around it, the scale is way off. Sajuuk was a mothership size vessel!
So after that rant, HW3 is beautiful but a hard pill to swallow after 25 years of loving the HW Universe. Life goes on! I hope the loyal fan base provides constructive feedback for BBI and Gearbox Software in hope it is listened to and used to bring back epic storytelling.