Numilk after shark tank

Another suggest me a motorcycle post

2023.06.07 15:24 SnooMemesjellies2360 Another suggest me a motorcycle post

37 year old family man - height 6ft - weighing 75-80kg.
Requirements:
very comfortable family motorcycle. center set footpegs, good tractability (like driving diesel cars), Mileage above 30, reliable.
Feels like i am writing in classifieds section for matrimony.
Thats it, above is my requirement, but if you have time, read a long post on my nostalgic past with bikes, as you are the audience that i feel would understand my journey.
Since the day i remember, i loved anything on two wheels. As a kid, i learnt to ride a cycle when i was 4 (no training wheels). I would ride so fast and i still remember few falls that i had. I was that annoying kid with a cycle that neighbours would always complain about.
My father used to own a bajaj chetak 150cc 2 stroke scooter and i used to stand on the front foot panel. He would let me use the throttle and he would take care of clutch, gear and brake. after couple of years, he would let me operate the clutch, gear and throttle. Couple of years later, my feet barely touched the ground, and by class 5 i was riding my dads scooter solo.
Parallely, our neighbour uncle had Hero Honda CD 100, every sunday morning, let would let me ride his motorcycle to buy groceries and he would be my pillion. I loved how smooth the machine was when compared to our two stroke scooter. I wished our family had a motorcycle.
I was updated on every single motorcycle that was released in India during the 96- early 2000 time frame. And i was very passionate about bikes as every other kid.
I graduated high school (class 10) and my father promised to get me a motorcycle when i turned 18, only IF i get selected in a particular engineering college in our town. I always knew what i wanted - a brand new Yahama RX 135 4stroke.
2004, I got selected in above said college which was 10 Kms away from home. I was 17 and used to ride a cycle to college. It was difficult to ride cycle in peak summer months and motorcycle now became a necessity and i was waiting to get my license. I even saved money and got my helmet before we got my bike. The day i turned 18 in 2005, i went to RTO with my dad and his scooter and got my license.
Next day, we were at the Yamaha showroom to check out the RX135. I got a big blow of a news that RX135 was just discontinued. And the updated Yamaha Libero (round headlight) was the only alternative at yamaha at that point. I was super disappointed and returned home, but made up my mind to buy a libero.
In that timeframe, the 150+cc vehicles, CBZ, Tvs Fierro, Bajaj Pulsar, Karizma were enthusiast level bikes and were very expensive for us middle-class folks. We would rarely see them on roads back then. so owning one was not even in my dreams. I was happy that i was about to get a motorcycle, i was okay with anything. Also, i was very skinny guy to be riding big 150 cc bikes.
One of my father's friend recommended us to visit Bajaj showroom as they were making bikes that churned out maximum mileage. So we visited the Bajaj showroom and salesman was pushing to sell Platina or Discover 110cc. I was walking around the brand new Pulsar 150 which was recently upgraded to alloy wheels. I knew i was never getting the bike, but it looked damn sexy and i was genuinely appreciating it.
My dad asked me if i wanted the pulsar. I said NO and i was okay with Platina. And at that point, the salesman intervened and told my dad that anyways Pulsar would be too heavy for me and platina would suit my personality better. This somehow annoyed my father and he told the salesman that i have been riding vehicles for a very long time and asked the manager to book the Pulsar for me. I was confused, happy and anxious at the same time. I had never ridden a 150cc vehicle before and i presumed it would be very heavy and difficult.
A week and 56000 rupees later, I had the motorcycle beyond my dreams. I had the 1st alloy wheeled pulsar in my college that too in Black. And boy i showed off. Every dayscholar in my college knew me by my bike. It was my identity. I pampered my bike yet rode fast and hard (after breakin). I used to indulge in road rages, participate in adhoc street races with other 150cc. Looking back, it was highly irresponsible, but i was young.
For the next 10 years, i had so much fun. i never let anyone else ride my bike. We both got old together. And at this point, 150 cc was a commuter. There were many better 150cc vehicles that got released, Yamaha FZS, Unicorn, Apache etc. I loved riding all these bikes and appreciated the improvements, smoother engines with more BHP, lighter clutch and better brakes. Yet, my bike was always special. It was by my side in every high and low moments of my life. By then i got a diesel swift as well, yet i always enjoyed being on 2 wheels.
2014 i had to move abroad and i knew that it was time for my pulsar to be retired. I would never sell it, so i re-registered my bike over to my cousin and he takes care of it till now and I melt whenever i ride it.
2016, had to come back to India for my wedding and stayed here for some time. I needed a bike to commute to office, i got myself a slightly used Yamaha FZs 16. I enjoyed riding it, but i would get knee and back pain. Then switched over to my friend's Gixxer 150 for couple of months, worse, the footpegs were so behind and i my knees wouldn't tuck under the tank. I had bad ankle, knee and back ache. Maybe i was getting old. But I was riding all new vehicles around that my colleagues/Friends would buy and it was exciting.
Couple of notable bikes that i rode which i loved. Duke 390 - I had a blast with that motorcycle, but it was not practical for every day, it cannot be ridden sanely. Its like that red devil that posses you and makes you ride fast. Other bike was R15 on a race track. A group of my colleagues booked a track for couple of hours and it was an experience to remember.
2017, I had to move abroad again, and this time i stayed there for 6 years. did not have much chance to ride 2 wheeler there as getting a 2 wheeler license and associated insurance was very high. But i always missed riding bikes. I would be so excited to see other bikers on road.
Now, 2023 moved back to India for good. I ride my father's activa and its fun to ride. Yes,my father retired our Chetak and bought an activa few years ago.
Today, i am the rider who rides fast to get out of the traffic and rides slow on empty roads. Our Activa is a necessity for family to buy groceries etc. But i need a motorcycle for everyday use that i can use everyday in city and enjoy.
submitted by SnooMemesjellies2360 to indianbikes [link] [comments]


2023.06.07 15:24 wonsoongeeh How do you play Undying as pub casual?

I don't want to shit on anyone's favorite, but... his W and E are pretty good for the first 15 minutes then they become irrelevant. Especially Tombstone. In non-stop gank fights after about 10~15 minutes, his Q isn't very useful either because fights don't last very long. His R is okay... but as tanks go, it's not great when there's bb, centaur, and even illusion heroes like specter that can play far more superior tank role.
I understand the concept behind lvl up fast with early lane dominance but I find him become totally obsolete after that. He's terrible at farming. His tanking isn't that great. DPS is low and he's terribly unsuited for high-speed fights. But I've played him 1 month ago when I wasn't very good.
Now that I'm a better player, I'm wondering if there's any way to exploit him. He looks very fun to play but I don't know how I can play him after his Tombstone is no longer useful (or at least it feels useless after about 10~15 minutes).
submitted by wonsoongeeh to DotA2 [link] [comments]


2023.06.07 15:10 SupportFlat8675 Any advice for this bad car situation that I got myself in?

My car was stolen and totaled late last fall. I needed a car asap because 1) it was getting cold (Milwaukee) and 2) I need it for work so I basically effed up and took the first thing I found at the nearest dealership - a 2012 Prius with 85k miles for $17,000 and 19% interest even though my credit score was 700. There were a few red flags when I bought it and I thought the dealership was kind of shady. I'm not sure why I didn't look into other options other than they were telling me that it would be hard to get a loan due to being self employed, etc.
After having the car for one month the brakes started having issues and then the catalytic converter got stolen. I had it towed to the dealership where I bought it, they said they could have it fixed in 2 days so I told them to go ahead. I also asked about the brake issue but they said it wouldn't be covered by the extended warranty I bought. For the next 2 weeks I was calling them asking on an update on my car and they kept saying they would look into it and get back to me but never did. I also asked them several times if they could make some kind of deal with me to trade the car in towards a different car and just add on to the loan since I had just bought the car from them a month ago and it already was having a major issue with the brakes. Both of the people I spoke with about that told me that the car wouldn't be worth anything to trade in since it's so old. (Funny that they charged me 17,000 for that old car a month before that). I was out of money and not able to work during that time since I need my car for work and was expecting it to be done in 2 days and by then it was zero degrees and we had lots of snow so just to survive at that point I ended up buying another used car from CarMax which I got a much better deal on and wish I had done in the first place.
I didn't hear back from the dealership about the Prius until over a month after it was supposed to be finished and at that point someone called me asking what was wrong with the car because it had just been sitting around and the person had no idea that it was supposed to be getting fixed. So they hadn't touched the car in over a month. So I told them to forget about it and that I would figure it out and get it fixed on my own and had it towed back to my house where it has been sitting now for a few months on the street in front of my house. My original plan was several people had told me to just put a regular straight pipe on it instead of getting a new catalytic converter since it would just get stolen again. So I was planning to do that and then rent out the car to cover the car payment. But then I read that that is illegal and that it won't pass the smog test and now with paying the car payment for my other car plus insurance for both cars I don't have enough money to get the car fixed and I haven't paid the car payment on the Prius for the last 2 and 1/2 months.
I'm also getting ready to move to a different state for another job opportunity. My credit has completely tanked already. Should I just let the car get repossessed? Anyone have any idea what the best way to go about this would be? I don't think I'm going to be making enough money to pay for both cars or to catch up on the payments. I barely have enough money to pay my bills right now and am behind on everything so I don't have enough to get it fixed.
Thank you for any advice
submitted by SupportFlat8675 to Advice [link] [comments]


2023.06.07 15:09 Gloryinwar Any thoughts on how the Psychological traits of these Clone soldiers affect them in battle?

Yeah, I just wanted to share this.
This is for a science fantasy setting of mine.
.
You see, there exists a vast nation-state ruled over and populated purely by Clones, and these Clones are counted as some of the most callous soldiers in the Galaxy.
As the Clone soldiers of this Clone Nation have a complete and utter disregard for their own lives, knowing they are "Immortal" in the sense that there will be more of them coming, while at the same time, the Clones never once get affected by psychological conditions.
These Clones are virtually never traumatized.
No amount of blood, artillery strikes, or brutality will affect them Psychologically, as though they are completely immune to those sorts of things... Which, combined with their callous disregard for their own lives make them very dangerous opponents.
.
You see, the Clones are like this because they were made that way by their former masters.
The Clones were created from a Human by a powerful Human state.
They were deliberately made so that they will never be affected by trauma... This effectively meant things that would traumatize a soldier, like the horrors and Brutality of wars will never affect the Clones. In addition, the more violent the battles, the more violent and Adrenaline filled the Clones get, due to the sounds, sights, and smells of combat being linked to them seeking it out even more.
In effect, neutralizes PTSD completely.
Unfortunately, the Clones revolted, and after driving their former masters out, used the Cloning tech and automated foundries to conquer hundreds, and then thousands of worlds, turning those worlds into Clone worlds as well.
.
All this meant that the Clones have an utter disregard for their own lives, often using the sheer weight of bodies, combined with overwhelming firepower from combined arms warfare to break enemy lines.
Every soldier is expendable, the Cloning facilities can make untold numbers of replacements, all equally as capable. Even Officers of the Clone army fight on the front, knowing other Clone officers will replace them.
These Clones are never traumatized and the more violent the battle, the more violent the Clones become in turn.
This can be seen in the Siege of the World of Iccarus, where the Clones did not use brilliant strategies, simply charging enemy lines over, and over, and over... And no matter how many clones died, no matter how many Divisions were rendered combat ineffective, the Clones never felt disheartened, and Many more came to replace them.
This gave the illusion that the Clones have an endless pit of manpower.
.
Another idea is their use of Suiciders.
Clones act as Anti-tank weapons by being pumped full of stimpaks, and painkillers, which allow them to take hits from machine guns and still keep running at full speed... Armed only rods with explosives attached to them, these Clones detonate their payloads, killing them and either disabling or crippling the tank.
.
Yeah just wanted to share this.
These Clones have a disregard that shocked even the battle-tested militaries of the Galaxy.
submitted by Gloryinwar to worldbuilding [link] [comments]


2023.06.07 15:07 Affectionate-Sun-834 Finally, some nitrites!

Finally, some nitrites!
After a week of fish-less cycle, I’m now seeing some nitrites at last. My ammonia was 8ppm in the beginning (using ADA Amazonia soil) and has now dropped as well. Happy progress is being made!
Can anyone advice on a potential ETA on when I maybe able to add a snail and some fish?
Or is this a ‘how longs a piece of string’ question? 😅
My tank is small (60L) so I only plan on a school of neons and rasboras and 1 snail. Obviously I’ll add them in bit by bit, very excited though.
submitted by Affectionate-Sun-834 to Aquariums [link] [comments]


2023.06.07 14:59 LightBeatleBox Why am I such a terrible tank?

Hi all,
Ive been playing OW1 and 2 for a couple of years. Im in low gold for dps and support, but for tank im in free fall on my way to bronze. And I just dont understand why I play so poorly as tank. Im in Silver 4 atm, which in itself is ok but I feel I have no control whatsoever over my own performance. And no, I dont think my team is holding me back or that im in elo hell.
I would like to play Winston, JQ, Ram and/or Zarya bc they are fun, but im equally bad at all of them.
Is there anyone who would like to give me some advice on my current gameplay and feedback after I have tried to implement it in a next game? I would like to get to gold, but for now I would be happy just to.have a feeling of control over my performance in Silver.
submitted by LightBeatleBox to OverwatchUniversity [link] [comments]


2023.06.07 14:57 froggyblogs Worst fold ever 2/5

UTG($1600 Stack) opens to $15, 5 callers before Hero($1600 stack) in BB with 29C calls(should be a fold but I hadn’t played a hand in a while and 6 others were in the hand so I said fuck it)
FLOP KJ5C :Checks to UTG makes it $50, MP($2000 stack) calls, everyone else folds, Hero raises to $150, UTG calls, MP calls
TURN 10H : I bet $425, UTG calls, MP jams all in and has us covered. MP is a very solid tight reg. I know it’s only about $1000 more to call when the pot would be around 4K but I just put him on A high flush or Q10C.
I thought a flush like 87,67 would have raised the UTG bet on the flop so he could protect his small flush. I also see A high and Q10 just calling on the flop since they had the whole board locked up.
Anyways, I fold after the longest tank I’ve ever had and the UTG player calls. River is a 7C. UTG shows too set with KK and MP 64C.
Not being results oriented, I think it was the worst fold I can remember making while playing live. Went with my “gut” when I should of just put the money in, if you got the higher flush then you got it.
submitted by froggyblogs to poker [link] [comments]


2023.06.07 14:50 kiplet1 [City of Roses] no. 27.2: “The first order of Business” – at This table – antique Punk bullshit – the Basics of Security

[City of Roses] no. 27.2: “The first order of Business” – at This table – antique Punk bullshit – the Basics of Security
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previous Table of Contents
tends to crumble
“The first order of business,” says the man at the head of the table, “in any face time we take with potential occupancy partners, we need to assess how the anticipated anchor’s gonna impact their appraisal and availability approach.” It’s a long table, a slab of wood the color of pale flesh, polished to a striking gleam that’s broken here and there by a phone or a computer tablet laid before this person or that, until down at the very other end of it, a couple of comb-bound reports bristling with post-it flags, a spill of colorful diagrams, a worn redweld holding a couple of file folders upright, a small black notebook splayed open, the wispy scratch of a fountain pen, APPRAISAL written in ruddy black ink, AVAILABILITY , then three sharp underscores. “It’s not,” the man at the head of the table is saying, “that we anticipate an antagonism toward the anchor, on the part of any potential partners?” His flat grey suit’s a touch too big, the collar of his soft blue shirt’s undone, his sparse beard neatly trimmed. “But by anticipating,” he says, “their respective stances vis-à-vis their individualized brand engagement profiles which, let me assure you, we will be reviewing in a thorough manner before we, we take up any,” he’s trailing off, “tête-à-têtes,” blinking quizzically. The room about them’s walled in cool sheets of green-tinged glass on all four sides and more beyond refracting, reflecting, shimmering desk lamps and fluorescents, computer screens, heads popping up over cubicle walls, turning, following the figure swimming up through them, one glass door after another opening before her, “I,” says the man at the head of the table, “excuse me,” as the final glass door swings open, she’s sweeping into the room, Ysabel in her long white coat. “I tried to tell her,” someone’s saying, a receptionist maybe, bobbing in her wake, and “Do you mind,” says an older man, halfway down the table, a hand on his phone on the wood, but she’s glaring at the very other end of the table. “How dare you,” she says.
“Sorry, folks,” says Lymond, screwing the cap onto his fountain pen. “Think we might have the room a minute?”
“I, um,” says the man at the head of the table, “we just got started?”
“And we’ll get right back into it,” says Lymond. “I’m really looking forward to hearing more about this brand engagement. Now,” pushing back his chair, “if you don’t mind,” but already they’re filing out, shirts and blouses of dull green, milky blue, an intrepid puce, awkwardly around past Ysabel all in white. “Um,” says the man who’d been at the head of the table, in his flat grey suit.
“Thanks,” says Lymond, cheerfully. The green glass door swings shut. “How dare I?” he says, to Ysabel. “I’m the King. A certain latitude’s expected.”
“You could’ve gotten her killed,” says Ysabel.
“They’re watching, you know,” he says, tucking a report into the redweld. “Go on. Lean over the table. Slap me. That should be enough to undo all his sacrifice secured.”
She blinks at that, draws back. “Sacrifice,” she says.
“He thought of it as such,” says Lymond, stacking up those diagrams, tapping their edges against the wood. “Now. Slap me, or turn about, and go home.”
“Not until you explain yourself, brother.”
“Oh, Ys,” he says. “If you would play at this table,” he’s tucking the diagrams into a file folder, “you must pay attention.” A wince, as he sets the folder aside. “We find ourselves upon a crux: the duel between the Devil and the Huntsman redounded to our favor, yet the wound’s but freshly healed. Any sudden shift might tear it right back open.” His hands, folded together before him, a thumb pressed tight against a knuckle. “Is that what you would have?”
“I’ve seen the wound,” she says. “He nearly cut her through. The owr does what it can,” and she looks up from the tabletop to meet his eyes, one brown, one blue, both cold. “She sleeps. She’s been asleep since the Mason brought her home.” Leaning down now, both hands planted on the glossy wood. “I’m doing you a courtesy, by answering a question I assume you would eventually have asked?”
A bitter something of a smile. “How is Jo,” he says, “how Jo is, I know how is our Gallowglas: loyal, and effective. I trusted her to do what needed doing, and she went and got it done. Now,” over her sharp intake of breath, “I ask, once more. You know what is at stake. Do you mean to stand against any particular point of our plan?” Leaning in close. “Slap me,” he says. “Or go home.”
She steps back, she turns away. Before she can open the green glass door he says, “Take care, sister, where and when you might vent any further displeasures?” Looking down, at his folded hands. “Our tantrums are expensive.”
“You’ve no idea,” she says, “what could’ve spilled from her heart, had his stroke been a whit more true.”
She opens the door. He shifts his thumb. The thin line of a neat straight cut along the edge of his forefinger, sewn with tiny beads of dark red blood. He lifts it to his lips. “Um,” says someone, the man in the flat grey suit a touch too big, peering into the room. “Everything good?”
“Paper cut,” says Lymond, waving him in. “C’mon, let’s go. Take it from the top.”

Well and I don’t know, dim voices floating up through floorboards loosely laid across the joists, not what we discussed, poets and junkies, epic, like some, there’s a mirror, there’s no one in the mirror, there’s a crack in the glass of it jagged, chased and dappled, splotched with gold, a spangled haze, such a history, working together, that didn’t work, a drip-drip trickle from the faucet, puddles on gold-streaked marble about the sink, but there, it’s gonna be epic, dust gone dark to grey, to black, a lump of it mucked up under the mirror, with the shreds of a burst plastic baggie, this, or this, or this. There’s music, too, loud but languid, strummed guitars, a melodeon, but she’s sitting up in the dark, her head in her hands, and there is no mirror, no light, no sinks or water, no marble countertop, but there is the dust, spangled, glimmering in the milky cloud of her hair, and still the music.
“Well if we have to have a name,” says Gloria Monday.
“It’s something to put on a poster,” says the woman sitting on the nubbled pea-green couch, one hand braced on the curled handle of an orthopædic cane, a big brown scaley purse in her lap.
“Well if that’s all we want,” says Gloria, wrestling to one side a great stretched canvas, a twirling figure calligraphed in slashes of black, to reveal another propped behind it, the next wild scribble of dance. She steps back, behind a tiny silver camera atop a stolid tripod, stoops to peer through it. “We could call it the Lawn,” she says, snapping a picture. Straightening, she looks back and forth, from the painting, to the image of it, now on the enormous white-framed monitor behind her there on the worktable.
“As in get off the?” says the woman standing off to one side, her long black coat done up with brightly silver buttons, and a little grey snap-brim hat on her head.
“That’s not what we discussed,” says Anna in her houndstooth trousers, narrow black-rimmed glasses glaring in the light.
“The house,” says Gloria, taking hold of the canvas. “Run-down and falling apart and poets and junkies and twenty bedrooms to one bathroom and full of,” lifting, “epic,” hoisting it aside, “legend, and, and art,” to reveal the next. “The Lawn,” says Gloria Monday. Her feet are bare, laddered tights printed with overlapping gears, her vast white T-shirt says Robot Fightin’ Boots.
“I liked Weatherall’s,” says Anna. “If we’re going to change it.”
“Yeah, well,” says Gloria, stooping behind the camera again.
“Sounds like some Harry Potter shit,” says the woman in the long black coat.
“Jilting of,” says Gloria, snapping another picture. “Granny Weatherall? Been a while, since you been in high school?” The woman on the couch snorts up a laugh, sits up, hefting her cane. “How about,” she says, pointing the wide rubber foot of it out, toward the cavernous space beyond, “this building,” the boxes, equipment, the bulks of whatever it is under tarps shoved off to either side, stacked in the stalls that one by one march down the long high walls, “the history,” soaked in soft grey light depending from up under the rafters, the windows there scrubbed clean of filth, scraped clear of paint, “a name should honor that.”
“It was a warehouse for vegetables,” says Gloria.
“A farmers’ market,” says the woman on the couch, “built by Italian immigrants, working together. Cooperatively.”
“Snot Market,” says Gloria, “Grime Market, that didn’t work,” grabbing the next canvas, “Pus Market has a certain punch,” hauling it aside, “but Anna didn’t like any of those, and anyway it’s antique punk bullshit. Effluvial Plane I kinda liked, but that’s too, much, y’know?”
“How old are you?” says the woman all in black.
“Fuck you,” says Gloria. “That’s how old I am.”
“Gloria,” says Anna.
“No, fuck this,” snarls Gloria. “We got the space. We’re doing the thing. It’s gonna be epic. And you can either get on board, get your, people, involved,” the woman on the couch, clutching her purse, “you can write about it like you know what’s gonna happen,” the woman all in black, hands in her pockets, smirking, “or you can scramble to catch up after, like everyone else.”
“Ms. Thorpe, we must apologize,” says Anna, after a moment, but “No, no,” says the woman all in black, “tempers run hot and you let them out and that’s fine, and then you stop and you take a deep breath and you think. Maybe you do this, or maybe tomorrow you’re kicked out for squatting. You don’t – ”
“Hey, Anna!” says Gloria. “What’s the owner got to say, about us being here?”
“There are no objections,” says Anna, but Thorpe looks away, rolling her eyes. “I did my homework,” she says, lifting her little grey hat, “or I wouldn’t be here at all,” scratching her head, her dark hair short, swept back. “You’re Suzette Wilson, you’re Tom Wilson’s daughter, and I’m sorry for your loss, but the title to this pile is hardly as clear-cut as,” but Gloria’s saying, “This, this is my place,” as Thorpe says “that’s before we even get into the questions of insurance, and zoning, and inspections,” but Gloria’s shouting “S1! Last Thursday! The Teahouse! You think they waited around for fucking paperwork?”
Anna and the woman on the couch, watching them both, Gloria seething, Thorpe settling her hat on her head, “Well,” she’s saying, tucking her hands in the pockets of her coat, “S1 is street-legal now, yeah, and the Teahouse? That was in Sellwood? Long gone. And you have any idea how much the merchants on Alberta pay the city for extra cops?” A shrug, and that smirk warms to something more sympathetic. “You want to beg forgiveness instead of ask permission and I can respect that, but there’s this delicate balance. You gotta be big enough to get noticed, but you can’t be so big you get noticed, you know?” Looking out, over the cavernous space below. “And all this you want to do in a week.” Turning back, hands spread in a hapless shrug, a burble of sound, “I like you,” she says, “I do, I like the idea,” looking up. It sounds like someone’s singing up there.
Up there, up at the edge of the planks laid across the joists, up by the brief ladder bolted to the wall a couple of long bare legs kicked over and orange underpants, ee, ee-oh nor, the keening voice a grunt, doo da-da dee, doo da-da dee, down the ladder to the walkway up there, a wild mad cloud of white-gold hair, “and quickly was received, enthusiastically,” and Thorpe looks down, over at the paintings leaned, at the image on the enormous monitor. “Some say that it had more to do with her,” the singer’s making her way, hand on the railing, “improper sense of dress, than her talent, or her diligence,” opening a door up there, painted with letters that possibly once said Ranchers, or Gardeners, and closing it muffles her song. “I’m sorry,” says Anna, drawing back their attention. “It seems Marfisa forgot we were meeting this morning.”
“I’ve seen,” says Thorpe, “I’ve heard her, before.”
“Salt and Straw,” says the woman on the couch, but then, lifting a finger, “no, that’s the ice cream.”
“She kinda came with the place,” says Gloria. Up there a crash of water, flushing, that door opens, Marfisa’s stepping out, “Cartier Bresson!” she shouts. “Max Ernst, Paul Eluard, George Bataille,” as she’s making her way back along the wall above them. “Their misogyny really irritated her, but she wasn’t, she,” stopping, standing there, wavering a little, looking down at them. Absently scratching just beneath a breast, and sunlight flashing from the gold dust spangling her skin.
“I heard you play once,” says Thorpe, abruptly.
Her wide smile spreading, Marfisa tips back her white-gold head, “Lee, ee-oh nor!” she sings, reaching for the ladder. “Lee, ee-oh nor!” Climbing back up toward the makeshift floor above.
“Stone and Salt!” says the woman on the couch. “That was it.”

Ding the microwave, she opens the door of it, reaches in with a hot pad for a steaming pink mug that says Sophia & Dorothy & Blanche & Rose. In she dunks a purple octopus infuser, dandling its delicate chain a moment. Color blooms.
Out of the kitchen, across the living room, dark wood paneling, grey-green shag, shuff and snap of her slippers into a nook of a hall, too brightly lit. She nudges open a door left ajar, into a small dark room lit only by sunlight staining the edges of heavy curtains drawn, and almost entirely filled by a great wide bed. “I’ve brought tea,” she says, setting the mug on the nightstand in the corner. “Hey.” Sitting on the edge of the bed. “I called Reg,” she says, reaching along the margin of the thick dark comforter, and a gentle stroke for the blond head there, turned away. “Told him we’d need another week. He wasn’t happy, but hey. Fuck him.” Tucking a lock of her own hair, as blond, as straight, behind her ear. “Chrissie,” she says. “Chér.”
“I don’t want any tea.”
“Yeah, well,” says Ettie, and she gets to her feet with a sigh. “This would be why I stick with men. They can’t break your heart.”

The door swings open, for a moment all’s revealed, scarred floor and drifts of grit against the bar, peeling dimpled paint along the front of it and its cracked vinyl bumper, dust furring the bottles along the top shelf, the washed-out flyspecked neon lights, the bartender, spiky hair flared palely to a golden brown, hand up against the raw daylight, skinny arm festooned with shadowy tattoos, “Jacks?” says Jessie, blinking, but the light’s swallowed away as the door swings shut, and dimness closes about the warm neon, the sparkle of glass, the rattle of drums and a couple of jangled chords, bubbling bass, “Jackie?” says the bartender, his hair gone black. “Ah, naw. She ain’t here.”
“Oh,” says Jessie, in her puffy pink parka. “Sorry. I thought,” and she shakes her head, Americans were thus denied, someone’s singing, with the guitar and the drums, all right to travel to the other side. “She usually works mornings,” says Jessie. “Any idea when she’s in next?”
“No, see,” says the bartender, “I mean, she’s not here? Anymore?” Folding those skinny arms, leaning his elbows on the bar. “And we can’t be giving out people’s schedules, come on. Basic security.”
“I’m a friend,” says Jessie, and then, “I used to dance here? About a year, year and a half ago. Went by Rain?”
“If you’re a friend,” says the bartender, “I mean, she left, what, right after the holidays? Two, three months ago? So, I mean,” and he spreads his hands. “Want something to drink?”
“Where’d she go?” says Jessie.
“I don’t know, Eugene or something? But even if I did I couldn’t tell you, because, security, you know. Coffee? Anything?”
Betcha my life, there’d be no violence there, and she opens her mouth to speak but everything lights up again, washed out, as the door swings open, two women, raincoat, trench coat, gym bag and backpack, nodding to the bartender who waves hello as they head through empty tables past the empty little stage, toward the nondescript door back there. “How about Chilli,” says Jessie. “He back there?”
“He, naw, Chilli, we’re,” the bartender jumps as she walks away, “we’re under new management,” he calls after her, “so,” but there’s confusion by that nondescript door as it opens, those women stepping through around and past a man who’s stepping out, brown leather vest and rich red hair flopping from a widow’s peak, “I need you to,” the bartender’s saying. Jessie waves him off. “It’s Gaveston,” she says. “I know Gav.”
But Gaveston’s holding the door for someone else, a tall woman in a white track suit, short hair greenly yellow, and Jessie stops short, in the midst of the empty tables. “Chariot?” she says. The tall woman’s saying something to Gaveston, as she heads off past the little stage. “Iona?” says Jessie, and the tall woman looks over to see her there in pink. “Oh,” she says, stopped short. “Rain.”
“Is she here?” says Jessie. “The,” a cough, “the Princess? Uh, Queen? Ysabel?”
Iona’s shaking her head, “I’m merely here on her behalf,” she says, stepping away, but “Iona,” says Jessie, “Chariot, tell her, please,” and Iona stops, looks back. “Yes?” she says.
Jessie looks away. “Nothing,” she says. “Don’t tell her anything. Not even, that you saw me.”
“As you wish,” says Iona. Jessie’s still looking away, there among the empty tables. I’d want the giddy-up, the guitar jangles, I’d want to live it up, I’d want the pick-me-up, and the nondescript door back there’s now shut. The bartender isn’t behind the bar that flares, scoured once more by daylight as Iona opens the door outside. She steps through, the door swings shut, the darkness returns.

Nox Sea Raid say the letters punched in light across the screen. Choose Your Squad swooshes in below. A husky contralto says Set em up Sarge over the speakers, and the guy on the beanbag thumbs and clicks the controller in his lap, wheeling the view on the screen about a motley crew of centaurs, each stepping up to present arms as the focus settles fleetingly on them, uttering a catch-phrase, Rock an roll, rack em and pack em, they will fear my song, buzzbombs why’s it have to be buzzbombs, reportin for beauty! rock an rack em rock an pack em why’s it have to fear my rock an roll an reportin! “This is gonna suck,” says the guy on the beanbag, “I need more’n one tank for this.” Wrinkles about his eyes and gingery stubble along his jaw. “Whaddaya think,” he says, looking away from the screen, “would a Mixolydian,” but there’s nobody beside him, there’s a man headed away, over toward the grand dark staircase, dodging around a dark wood column, his sweater bulky, red, he’s looking up to the woman stopped there on the stairs, black trousers, a bowtie unclipped about her winged collar. “Long as he needs,” she’s saying, and “Oh,” says the guy on the beanbag, turning back to the screen, “Ellen’s home.” Clicking through the figures on the screen, rock an roll, reportin for beauty, they will fear, “The hell was he doing, wearing my shirt?” and the guy on the beanbag looks up again at that, the man in the red sweater a step or two up the stairs, and Ellen above him, maybe a shrug, “It looks better on him,” she’s saying, turning away. Why’s it have to be, says the centaur on the screen. Rack em!
https://preview.redd.it/yxg391a0yk4b1.png?width=35&format=png&auto=webp&s=506443fd3a4988b34878bf917171c44569067a50
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submitted by kiplet1 to redditserials [link] [comments]


2023.06.07 14:48 Odd-Ticket1749 How?

How do people tank 4 full combos back to back and still have 80% hp left ? If I get hit by a stray shot of light fruit I lose 90% of my hp lol , is there an item I don't know about ? (Don't say they are sharks cuz they weren't even angels)
submitted by Odd-Ticket1749 to bloxfruits [link] [comments]


2023.06.07 14:43 artsypeasant04 6 interviews, an initial rejection, and a never-ending recruitment process.

A couple of months ago I (27F - Not in the US) was contacted by a recruiter from a recruitment agency for a job opportunity in my field of work. We talked on the phone for a few minutes, and we set up a Google meet call in order to discuss the job and how my skills match the job description etc. I don't know if it's worth noting but my work is quite niche, and I imagine it would be hard to find many candidates with experience in the field. Anyway, the call went great, we liked each other, so she requests a second video call on a later date to discuss things further. After this second videocall, she set me up with the company for an in-person meeting with the senior director (let's call her Jen) I would eventually be working under.
I took a day off from work because the company is located in another city, about an hour away. This interview went well too, there was an HR representative present, so I was a bit nervous, but I was hoping they couldn't tell. I absolutely want the job and I was trying to make a great impression. A week or so later, the recruiter calls me and tells me that they want me back for a second interview, and this time around, I would be meeting Jen, in addition to 2 of her superiors, both CEOs of 2 affiliated companies. Man did my back sweat that day! I took another day off (each time giving a different reason for the PTO to my manager). The interviews took so long but I felt like they all went really well and I left their premises feeling joyful and optimistic. I almost felt like I had it in the bag, but with a little pinch of doubt, you never know.
Up to this point, we're at a total of 4 interviews, 5 if we count the first phone call. A couple of weeks later, I get the much-awaited phone call from the initial recruiter. Bummer, it was bad news. She informed that the company went with another candidate, and that my salary expectations were a bit higher than average... Ok no big deal, (definitely a big deal, I cried when no one was looking). I thought to myself I'll just have to keep being miserable at my current job until I can land something better. I was feeling pretty down so I took two weeks off from my current job and went on vacation. While on vacation, I just couldn't let this go, I kept replaying the interviews in my head, wondering what I did wrong, and thinking of all the potential reasons for this rejection. I knew that the reasons they gave me were probably made up. I mean I get the process.
I decided to write them a gracious thank you email. I was inspired by a letter that Barbara Corcoran wrote to Shark Tank after being initially rejected. I think I saw it on her LinkedIn. Anyway, I drafted something similar in which I explained to them how I absolutely fell in love with their line of work and that I hoped I'd get another opportunity in the future etc. I sent the email to Jen and I CC'd the recruiting agency. Fast forward three weeks later, I was thrilled to get a call from the recruiter, she thanked me for the email, she said it was very kind of me and it definitely showed motivation yada yada. It turns out, they haven't recruited anyone else yet, and just like I suspected, the rejection reasons were bs. I was informed that Jen wanted to speak to me again, because she had doubts about my operational skills and wanted to talk to me about my field experience, and if I was comfortable working in a male dominated industry. This time, it was via Google Meet. Great, no need to drive all the way there but I still had to take a day off because the call was scheduled at 4pm. This videocall with Jen lasted exactly 10 minutes. The recruiter didn't lie when she said Jen had one thing to know. She literally had that one question only. I guess that's what was bugging her. I reassured her that I was more than capable of handling the job, going on business trips, meeting all kinds of people, and backed it all with experience. She finished the call saying "Great. To be continued". That was 14 days ago, and I still haven't heard back. So, we're at 6 interviews, more than 2 months of recruitment hell, and my anxiety is out the roof. I don't think I can handle a second "No" lol. However, the overall slowness and lack of transparency can really be demotivating. Red flags are flagging.
Sorry for the super long text, and thank you for reading, I just wanted to vent I guess.
submitted by artsypeasant04 to recruitinghell [link] [comments]


2023.06.07 14:32 Thick_Comfortable349 Glofish tetra

So mid May I bought 2 tetras and a 5 gallon tank for my female beta, and they all got along super awesome. My other tetra just died of swim bladder. I know it says they don’t do good alone so if the tetra has been alone since yesterday afternoon and im putting another one in after school around 4pm est do you think the tetra will be ok for that long?
submitted by Thick_Comfortable349 to Aquariums [link] [comments]


2023.06.07 14:30 Thick_Comfortable349 Goofish Tetra

So mid May I bought 2 tetras and a 5 gallon tank for my female beta, and they all got along super awesome. My other tetra just died of swim bladder. I know it says they don’t do good alone so if the tetra has been alone since yesterday afternoon and im putting another one in after school around 4pm est do you think the tetra will be ok for that long?
submitted by Thick_Comfortable349 to Fish [link] [comments]


2023.06.07 14:23 Lord_Wilson_ Eldritch Knight advice needed!

Hello, fellow adventurers!
I have few questions regarding the EK fighter archetype.
A bit of personal and character background: I recently started to play DnD 5e for the first time and i love it. All of the players as well as the DM are first-timers, and we are currently a few sessions into "the dragon of icespire peak". I started out as a bulky mountain dwarf fighter, who used to be a soldier, more specifically a sergeant who commanded the personal guard of a high ranking officer, accordingly, i picked the "protection" fighting style, which lets me use my reaction to impose disadvantage on attack rolls against allies within 5ft of me, and requires me to hold a shield. As a dwarf, i fight with a shield and a hammer. Now recently i leveled up to level 3 and i picked the "eldritch knight" archetype, because i liked the idea of being a frontline tank who uses magic to protect himself and others in the heat of battle. Last session was the first one where i used my new magic capabilities. Long story short, i got attacked, cast "shield" to boost my AC by +5, all attacks against me failed. In the post-gameplay reflection period of the session, i discovered that in order to cast "shield" i need to have at least one free hand, which i didn't have, because i carry hammer and shield, and both i and the DM (who, remember, is also a beginner) overlooked.
Now for my questions: How do i utilize both my fighting style and my magic capabilities? Because in order to protect my allies through my reaction, i need to carry the shield, in order to protect myself through a reaction spell, i need a hand free, so my solution would be to stow the hammer in between turns, so i can choose either option for my reaction. The PHB also explicitly states that i can draw a weapon as part of my weapon attack, but can i also stow it again in the same turn, after the attack? Or do i need to sacrifice one of my two main abilities (protect myself / protect others) in order to attack?
How would you solve this issue as a player? Is it solvable, or was "protection" and "eldritch knight" just a poor combination?
How would you rule on this as the DM? I asked my DM but he's not sure how to handle this. He said he'd come up with a solution before the next session, but i think he's as confused as i am, and i wanted to ask if there's a RAW way to handle the situation.
Thanks in advance!
submitted by Lord_Wilson_ to DnD [link] [comments]


2023.06.07 14:03 Awesome512345 Top Players and Performances after Play-Ins by Winston's Lab

Top Players and Performances after Play-Ins by Winston's Lab
Winston's Lab has just been updated for this week, here are the best game performances this week and best players ranked right now.

Best Match Performances this Week

https://preview.redd.it/qypy7v66xk4b1.png?width=898&format=png&auto=webp&s=345796f2e07fdbdb8cdd9c2ed7ccdd7ad6d3af41
https://preview.redd.it/trxr0h9bxk4b1.png?width=1154&format=png&auto=webp&s=92377d621c4a622c40e53524a553541653a142ad
Key takeaways:
  • Leave had a crazy performance this week against Dreamers, 11.87 kills per minute (1st), 2.20 deaths per minute (2nd lowest), 34% of team kills (8th) and 31.03% first kills (1st), honestly a really impressive performance from him to shut out any hopes of Dreamers making it to Mid Season Madness.
  • Note we do see all of Spark against Dreamers in the top 20, they definitely had great performances but this could be slightly inflated due to Dreamers being considered a stronger team than they are having just beaten Charge.
  • We see an interesting case of the two Florida vs Glads matches reflecting Kevster and checkmate having highlight performances when they won. On the opposite end, Kevster ranked 26th when they lost to Florida, and checkmate was ranked 102nd (out of 142). Comparing the two:
    • Kills per 10, Kevster (9.39 vs 8.77), checkmate (7.99 vs 5.06)
    • Percentage team kills, Kevster (37.1% vs 34.9%), checkmate (26.6% vs 22.3%)
    • Basically when checkmate was able to be leveraged more and performed better alongside the team in the second rematch allowing them to get over the line
    • Interestingly only Ch0r0ng among the other players of Florida had a significant improvement between the matches, with Rupal and someone actually having better (statistically) performances in their loss.
    • On the Glads end other than Kevster unable to hard carry the rematch, the supports dropped a little bit between the matches, Yaki actually performed slightly better than Kai but Danteh was the big drop among the Glads players rip, with Mayhem's response to Danteh being a lot more effective in that rematch
  • Best carry performances by % of team kills are Kevster (v Boston), sp9rk1e (v Infernal) and Decay (v Glads). Best carry performances by first kills are leave (v Dreamers), AlphaYi (v NYXL) and sHockWave (v Defiant). Actually shout out Checkmate (v Shock) who's 4th in both rankings, heavy lifting his team there.

Best Hero Performances this Week

https://preview.redd.it/v5514ii22l4b1.png?width=932&format=png&auto=webp&s=68b593e4e8c7d2ad166f5c7818313d8169a616cc
Key takeaways:
  • Going to keep this brief, high carry DPS players make the top 4, and its interesting to see Vindaim at 10th with his Lucio (I don't remember the game in particular to comment on why).

Current Player Rankings

https://preview.redd.it/s3k0yce42j4b1.png?width=1152&format=png&auto=webp&s=9a5b7458de7020f00d5d916faae501bcff985cde
https://preview.redd.it/uz1hjxl62j4b1.png?width=1152&format=png&auto=webp&s=dd4693c139a2760482f3e216967bfffe18b81a7c
https://preview.redd.it/0arwo2j82j4b1.png?width=1152&format=png&auto=webp&s=641040728d892408bccdcf86f4873d8fcfcceebe
https://preview.redd.it/7u2r3mud2j4b1.png?width=1154&format=png&auto=webp&s=ac5a74bffa0f801df973fb424db051350706a53b
Highest improvers of players in the top 70 (top half ranked players by Winston's Lab):
  1. Leave (+9) to 58th
  2. Bliss (+5) to 26th
  3. Checkmate (+4) to 23rd
  4. AlphaYi (+3) to 18th
I'll note that the rankings include Pro-AM performances but I think valuing recent games more, so the the rankings will calibrate over time with more performances. For example while Leave started slow this season he'll definitely keep rising rapidly, alongside all the players in the list above (it's impressive to move more than 2 ranks as most players didn't move much).
New players to the rankings are: Irony at 17th, Spectra at 36th and D0nghun at 48th.
Key takeaways:
  • It's nice to see the Winston's Lab rankings start to shape towards slightly more representative rankings that I'd consider reflective of players' OWL performance, after initially being solely from Pro-AM performances which was a lot smaller sample size that didn't reflect all players.
  • I think I rate most of the top 20 players highlighted (not in that order) except maybe Guxue, fixa or D0nghak by an eye test and I'm not familiar enough with the contenders players Aiden and irony. Looking into the stats what makes these top 20 stand out is consistent and more frequent standout performances which is why they out rank other potential candidates who could be in that top 20.
  • Also because the rankings evaluates your performance as how you perform on each of your heroes compared to the average scores by other players on that hero, it does seem to make it harder for flex and hitscan DPS players to go up the rankings as you have to be consistently better than the other really good DPS players in the league across all heroes you play to be ranked higher.
    • For example looking into Leave who I think should be ranked higher, losing the tracer battle against Zest and ChoiSehwan in their two losses this season hurts him a lot as his tracer stats in those games were a lot worse than the other class tracers in the league. In Spark's wins, Leave wasn't having high tracer impact too which limited his chance to rise the ranks. Mind you his recent Dreamers' tracer performance is one of the best in the season so he'll start to climb now.
    • Actually interestingly it seems the reason its so hard for DPS players to rank high might be because there's a lot less (almost no) really bad DPS players in the league, hence they all are valued closer to the average point, unlike tanks and main supports which I'll talk about later.
  • Due to this low spread of DPS player skill and the high skill it takes to play the DPS role, I do think that it does lead to commend our top DPS players for being able to rank so high in the system, that is Stalker, Lip, Proper, AlphaYi and Kevster which actually does show players we tend to consider in the MVP race for the season (minus Stalker who deserves more appreciation imo, even though Lip might be more impactful).
  • Inversely this does explain why there are 5 tanks in the top 10, due to the range of tank skill being so wide in the league this boosts up the top tank players for being significantly stronger than the weakest tanks in the league (*cough* fletank). This could actually be why main supports are so prevalent in the top 20 too (Faith, ChiYo, Aiden, fixa, Chorong) as the skill in main support drops quite a bit also.
  • This does make Skewed pretty impressive to win out the pretty strong flex support category, and by a solid margin too (1st in Ana, Baptiste and Zenyatta, all three of his heroes). Again APAC strength being inflated in the Winston's Lab system could be a factor for this but otherwise a very impressive rating nonetheless.
  • Another way to look at the rankings is who are the most valuable players to choose to have in your team, and an example answer by the rankings is Hawk over Lip only because Hawk compared to the other off tanks is a lot more valuable than Lip compared to other DPS players despite Lip likely being the better player with a stronger MVP case for his impact for his team.
  • My adjusted top 20 would be the top 4 in each role considering each role to be ranked distinct from each other. Basically the best theoretical team right now would be Skewed, Stalk3r, Faith, someone and Lip, with the second best team being ChiYo, Guxue, Fielder, Proper and AlphaYi.
    • This means players like ChoiSehwan, checkmate, Twilight and maybe Rupal (as flex support is more played than main support) could be statistically considered for the top 20 right now too.
tl;dr DPS players and flex supports rank lower in Winston's Lab (or closer to the average) as you're compared to other players who play your heroes, and those two roles have the lowest spread in skill level likely due to the strong average skill in those players. This makes our top 5 DPS players right now (Stalker, Lip, Proper, AlphaYi, Kevster) pretty impressive for being the top players in the most impactful role in OW, compared to how Winston's Lab ranks them.
submitted by Awesome512345 to Competitiveoverwatch [link] [comments]


2023.06.07 13:58 _Moonreul_ New to Teambuilding and tried to make a Hoopa-U/Roaring Moon team...

So as Hoopa-U is one of my favourite mons, I was happy to see it come back with the recent Home Update and have been trying to make a team with it and Roaring Moon work. I've playing Showdown a bit more recently and cooked up a final lineup, after a week of trying. Honestly, I'm not sure how to improve it more, or if a core of these two mons even work, so I'm seeking any help to make this team better :) Pokepaste

Hoopa-Unbound @ Choice Scarf
Ability: Magician
Tera Type: Psychic
EVs: 4 HP / 252 SpA / 252 Spe
Timid Nature
IVs: 0 Atk
- Psychic
- Dark Pulse
- Thunderbolt
- Focus Blast
Trying to find a way to use Hoopa-U's incredible 170 base SpA, I settled on a Choice Scarf Timid Nature, allowing it to outspeed most non-Choice scarf/non-booster mons (except unburden sneasler) and still land powerful OHKO/2HKOs. Usually, I lead with this against Rain or Sun Teams as it OHKOes Pelipper with Thunderbolt and Torkoal with Tera Psychic. Great Tusk and Urshifu are also targets as most expect to outspeed Hoopa-U and stay in. I'm considering switching to modest scarf to have a chance to OHKO Toxapex if Zamazenta-H gets banned as timid scarf is mostly to outspeed banded Zama-H and Chien-Pao.

Corviknight @ Rocky Helmet
Ability: Mirror Armor
Tera Type: Water
EVs: 252 HP / 4 Atk / 252 Def
Impish Nature
- U-turn
- Body Press
- Defog
- Roost
The team's defogger and physical wall, it also helps to pivot into Hoopa-U/Roaring Moon for them to find an opening/set-up. I was conflicted over the item and ability but chose Rocky Helmet over Leftovers for the chip damage and especially since usually this tanks Urshifu's Surging Strikes, and Mirror Armour over Pressure to prevent Def drops.


Roaring Moon @ Booster Energy
Ability: Protosynthesis
Tera Type: Flying
EVs: 4 HP / 252 Atk / 252 Spe
Jolly Nature
- Dragon Dance
- Acrobatics
- Crunch
- Dragon Claw
The usual DD Acrobatics set, I usually find myself tera-ing this to go on the offensive, usually after hopefully clearing Chien-Pao and its ice shard. It hits incredibly hard and fast after +1 DD, but I'm considering whether to include Earthquake to hit Kingambit, or keep Dragon Claw to deal with other Dragons.


Kingambit @ Leftovers
Ability: Supreme Overlord
Tera Type: Fire
EVs: 252 HP / 252 Atk / 4 Def
Adamant Nature
- Swords Dance
- Sucker Punch
- Kowtow Cleave
- Iron Head
Wasn't sure about including another dark type on the team, but Kingambit brought good priority and strength in swords dance and sucker punch, and pulled a lot of games back from the brink, which is why it kept its place on the team. It also brings steel coverage to hit fairy types (although Iron Valiant just ends it with any fighting move)


Garganacl @ Leftovers
Ability: Purifying Salt
Tera Type: Ghost
EVs: 252 HP / 4 Def / 252 SpD
Careful Nature
- Salt Cure
- Iron Defense
- Recover
- Body Press
I used this as the team's special wall, but it also takes physical hits fairly well also, being extremely annoying with Leftovers plus Recover. With Salt Cure, it forces switches, hits steels and prevents the wall of the team from being too passive. I often find myself tera-ing this quite often as well to tank Fighting-type moves, often when on the back foot.


Urshifu-Rapid-Strike @ Choice Band
Ability: Unseen Fist
Tera Type: Ice
EVs: 4 HP / 252 Atk / 252 Spe
Jolly Nature
- U-turn
- Surging Strikes
- Close Combat
- Ice Spinner
Often used as a physical breaker, I found its WateFighting STAB combo to be highly useful against Garg/Ursa/Kingambit/Skele/Ting-Lu and crit-ing through Def boosts with Surging Strikes is definitely a plus. I also use this to pivot to the other threats on the team (Moon/Hoopa).


I think ground/fighting moves are definitely an area where this team struggles hard, aside from tera-ing... so any suggestions are welcome! As my first foray into actual teambuilding, I hope this team isn't unsalvageable hot garbage HAHA
submitted by _Moonreul_ to stunfisk [link] [comments]


2023.06.07 13:56 CookieDelivery Best Espresso Machines 2023: Reddit recommendations summarized!

Want to find the best espresso machine according to Reddit users? This post is a hub for Reddit discussion on that topic!
Here you'll find links to Reddit threads discussing the best espresso machines (with input from users who have sometimes used a product for years), as well as a sourced summary of the most recommended items, including pros and cons if any.
Other than that, you'll find a list of good resources and important tips on buying espresso machines by Redditors.
Got your own questions or product suggestions? Make sure to leave a comment here to get even more discussion going!

Summary: best espresso machines 2023 according to reddit

  1. Breville/Sage Bambino Plus - beginner home espresso machine (around $500)
  2. Gaggia classic pro - beginner home espresso machine (around $450)
  3. Breville/Sage Barista Express - best espresso machine with built in grinder, make 2 espresso's at once (around $750)
Below you'll find more info on where they've been recommended, and why.
1. Breville/Sage Bambino Plus
Features: 64 fl oz water tank, milk frother, 9 bar, stainless steel. (Amazon link, rated 4.3 stars after 1400+ reviews)
Mentions by Redditors:
2. Gaggia Classic Pro
Features: 72 fl oz water tank, milk frother, 9 bar, stainless steel (Amazon link, rated 4.6 stars after 2300+ reviews)
Mentions by Redditors:
3. Breville/Sage Barista Express
Features: 67 fl oz water tank, mil frother, built-in grinder, 9 bar, make 2 espresso's at once, stainless steel (Amazon link, rated 4.6 stars after 21000+ reviews)
Mentions by Redditors:
Amount of comments and upvotes of: june 7th, 2023.

Reddit threads discussing the espresso machines

Here's a list of Reddit threads with genuine recommendations about the best espresso machines:
Amount of comments as of: june 7th, 2023.

Resources and other tips suggested by Reddit

Here are some tips suggested by Redditors:
Here are some other resources suggested by Redditors:

Questions or suggestions

Still have your own questions or suggestions? Comment below!
submitted by CookieDelivery to recommendedbyreddit [link] [comments]


2023.06.07 13:53 papabear513 The Experiments Beneath Green Haven Penitentiary

I stared up at the magazine cut out of a Maxim model that was crudely pasted on the underside of the top bunk. Her pert breast shimmied ever so slightly as Pete tossed and turned above.
She was platinum blonde with legs long enough to wrap around me twice. Or so the camera angle made it seem. I felt a stirring below, that yearning for a woman’s touch… which I hadn’t felt in six years, three months, and eleven days.
I rolled to my side, stifling it. It was the wrong time to seek out an orgasm, and I knew after the release I’d just spiral into self-loathing anyway. I focused on a crack in the cinder block until my eyelids became heavy.
Static pushed the thought of women from my mind as I slipped into sleep. The smell of cigars and oil flitted through my mind in a memory. My dad’s repair shop. The one I was meant to take over, before the arrest…
------
“Aaaarrgghh!”
A cry echoing from somewhere deep within the prison startled me awake. My heart thundered in my chest like a rabbit thrashing against its cage.
I rolled over to see Pete crouching low, his face pressed against the bars.
“What’s going on?” I croaked.
“They’re taking Benny.” He whispered.
“Fuck, really?” I pulled myself to the top corner of my mattress, just enough to peer around the edge of the bars.
Two guards wrestled the young latino onto a gurney as a man in a lab coat watched from a distance. He fought against them but it was futile. Once the straps were locked in he screamed once more, pleading for help.
Dozens of eyes watched from dim lit cells, none of which stirring to offer assistance in the slightest. We knew there was no helping him. We knew what happened next…
His cries were muffled as the doctor jammed a syringe into the base of his neck. Benny’s muscles tensed and pulsed in the fit of a seizure, but then lay still. The cell block was silent once more as they wheeled him down the hall and into the catacombs.
I did a cross over myself but didn’t bother to pray. Once they took them, they never came back.
“A damn shame…” I muttered.
“Yeah, he was a good kid…” Pete stood and leapt back onto the top bunk.
A fire burned in my chest. I wanted to say something. To cry out about the injustice of what was happening to us. That committing a crime shouldn’t damn a man to whatever terrible fate they had instore for us below three feet of steel and a quarter mile of dirt.
But I didn’t… What good could it do? Other than drawing attention to me in a very negative way.
Once they took you to the lab, you were never seen again.
All you could do was hope that your number was never called, and that you got out of here before they visited your cell late into the night.
—-----
87…88…89…90…
My chest was on fire as sweat dripped from the tip of my nose. I couldn’t go back to sleep last night. Kept thinking about Benny.
91…92…93…
So began the push-ups. It was the only way to clear my head.
94…95…96…
My therapy.
97…98…99…100.
I rolled to my back, out of breath.
Three years, six months and change.
So much time left to go.
Benny had only been here for a little over a year. It made no sense…
None of us could figure out exactly why they took who they took. There seemed to be no method to the madness.
Just a couple weeks ago they took old man Tom Finch. He’d been here longer than any of us. A lifer on the account of premeditated murder back in the 70s. But they didn’t come for him until he’d served most of his adult life behind bars.
The red beacon suddenly swirled above. A buzzing sound hummed as the cell doors clicked and slid open.
Breakfast.
—----
I pulled my tray along the bar to be loaded with oats, powdered eggs and bread.
Meager rations.
I grabbed a small carton of milk and made my way over to sit with Pete. He was already nibbling on his toast while perusing a crossword puzzle.
We exchanged nods and I went to devouring the entirety of my plate.
Calories build muscle after all.
Which was something Pete had no interest in. He was a bookworm through and through. Rail thin too. When we’d met, I’d assumed it was from the drug problem he’d had on the outside, which ultimately landed him in incarceration. But come to find out it was just his metabolism and general lack of appetite.
“John…” He whispered.
I looked up from my feast.
He was looking to the corner of the cafeteria and I followed his gaze to see two men in lab coats surveying the crowd.
I grunted and squeezed the handle of my fork until my knuckles went white. The impulse of burying it into their throats was almost overwhelming.
“Their activity has been ramping up.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve been seeing them much more frequently as of late. They must be close to a breakthrough.”
“Breakthrough of what?” I furrowed my brow.
“Who knows? Whatever it is they are doing down there. They’ve been taking us more often as well.”
Pete sighed at the twist of confusion on my face.
“Think about it… Benny last night, then Tom two weeks before that. Then Eric ten days before that, and Deonte maybe three weeks prior. It’s never been that close together. Until recently, they only came perhaps once every other month. Sometimes only once a season.”
Shit… he was right. I hadn’t realized it before.
“So what does that mean?” I asked, shoving another hunk of egg into my mouth.
“I have no idea. But I’d say our odds of survival have been reduced dramatically.”
—-----
Pete might as well have been an oracle, peering into our grim and desolate future.
Over the next several months we started seeing the lab coats weekly. Sometimes even more often than that.
The prison yard felt empty. Sure there were still plenty of us left, but our population had been noticeably trimmed. One gang in particular only had two members left, which didn’t bode well for them. The others slowly circled them like sharks. I had no affiliation with any of them and kept to myself. But still, I could see their fate a mile away.
Although, despite the business as usual dog eat dog atmosphere, there was an undercurrent of fear rippling through the general pop. You could smell it, like a scent of decay and desperation. Hard faces that had once promised violence, now almost flinched around every corner and jumped at each shadow.
The energy of a couple of hundred men that felt like an animal backed into a corner was palpable.
But what could we do?
I didn’t know but I sure wish someone would tell me… I threw myself into my workouts and Pete hardly ever looked up from a book. Escapism was our only reprieve.
I went to bed with a prayer on my lips, hoping I wouldn’t hear those iron bars moving in the late hours of the night.
—-----
A loud clanking followed by footsteps pulled me from sleep.
I squeezed my eyes tightly shut hoping it was the cell next to mine.
But it wasn’t…
Three guards hovered behind a fourth that was unlocking our cell. The bars clicked and began to slide open.
I jumped to my feet and backed up against the wall. I pulled my fists up into a boxing stance, I wasn’t going to go without a fight. My muscles tensed and flexed like coiled steel.
“In the corner inmate! We’re here for your cellmate.” A short and stocky corrections officer barked with his hand gripping the baton at his waist.
Pete squirmed into a ball at the corner of his mat and looked at me with wide, pleading eyes.
I put my face in the opposite corner as instructed. A mixture of fear and relief roiled in my gut, and I hated myself for it. It made me feel like a coward.
“No, no, no, no, no!” I heard Pete squeal from behind as guards flooded the cell.
I peaked over my shoulder and watched as they pried him from the top bunk. Pete tried to resist, but there was nothing to him. A bag of bones that they easily wrestled down.
That same fire ignited in my chest. Anger washed over me, cleansing away the cowardice. For God’s sake, he was my only friend.
All I could see was red.
I spun around bringing the back of my fist across a guard’s face, shattering the bridge of his nose. Blood spurted from it as he dropped Pete’s legs.
With a giant step forward I brought an uppercut into the portly officer’s abdomen, dropping him like a ton of bricks.
I shoved a third into the corner, pinning him there as I screamed for Pete to run. He scampered out the opening and the last thing I heard were his footfalls as a baton smashed across the back of my skull. Everything went black before I even hit the ground.
—-----
I spent a month in solitary.
The room was so small it should have been inhumane to house a human being inside of it.
Still… I made the best of it with dips, pushups and situps. Countless reps of them. It was all I could do.
Some mornings I’d wake up with horrible migraines. I assumed it was a slight concussion from the impact of the baton.
I only hoped Pete could have somehow made it out. But somewhere deep down I knew that would have been impossible. Hopefully he at least gave them some hell before they took him below.
I stopped praying before bed. It didn’t seem like it did any good.
If there was a God, he didn’t exist inside these walls.
We were abandoned.
The unheard.
—-------
When I finally got back to my cell it had been emptied of everything. Pete’s books, artwork from his niece and even my Maxim cutout.
Just like he’d never existed. My heart sunk at the sight.
Later that day I’d learned from others that he had been captured just moments after escaping the cell.
But our actions weren’t wasted in vain.
We were the first to fight back against the abduction and it sparked something in the others.
They started talks of an uprising a few weeks back. A prison riot.
They even had a guard on the inside. C.O. Matthews. He was a very religious man and was just as horrified by what was happening as we were and had been looking for a way to help.
“It’s going down tonight John, just before lights out. Be ready.” Jerry whispered at the picnic table.
I gave a nod that I understood and headed off for my daily jog around the courts.
It wasn’t about getting out. Getting free. That wasn’t going to happen. It was about sending a message.
I let my mind go blank, filling with static as I enjoyed what could be my last day outside.
—------
The beacon swirled overhead in the common area.
“Inmates to their cells. Lights out.” The intercom buzzed.
There were over fifty men in cell block B, and not a single one of us moved.
The voice on the intercom repeated himself angrily as guards began to shuffle in closer. Nods passed like dominoes from one inmate to the next. We were ready.
“Get to your cell inmate.” a guard growled as he clamped his hands down on my shoulders.
I threw an elbow behind me into his groin, he howled in pain as he hit the floor. The other inmates sprung to their feet and flew off from their leaning places to join in the brawl.
Fists, feet and batons flew wildly across the cell block as we engaged in war with the uniformed officers.
I grappled with one until I was able to submit him in a choke until he went limp in my arms.
I stomped another in the face, spilling blood and brains on the concrete floor.
It had looked like we were winning until they sent the special response team in. We formed a line, many of us battered and bloody, in front of the row of riot shields.
We waited for their charge for what felt like an eternity.
But suddenly they backed out from where they’d come and slid the cell block doors closed.
What the hell…
The red beacon swirled once again overhead as a clicking sounded out behind us.
The rear entrance that the lab coats had always used swung open. I spun around to see…
“Mary, mother of God.” I gasped.
It was Pete…
But there was something horribly wrong with him.
His skin clung loosely to his body and had a terrible jaundice looking hue to it. His eyes almost seemed to glow and his hands… they were impossibly large like contorted branches.
I held my hand up to my mouth in disbelief.
A scientist stepped out from behind him.
“As you can see, we have a few kinks left to iron out, but we are making great progress. Would you all care to see what he can do?” He looked into each of our eyes inquisitively.
“If you don’t, head back to your cells now. You have ten seconds and then I shall release him.”
It was so silent you could hear a pin drop. But a violent and hungry energy filled the room, emanating from what used to be my friend.
Suddenly, over half the remaining inmates bolted for their cells out of fear. Not that I could blame them, my knees wobbled and threatened to buckle just at the sight of him.
But I stood my ground, as did a handful of others.
“Very well then. Specimen 3-1-0, engage.”
A growl reverberated through the cell block.
“Everyone rush him at once! It’s our only shot.” I hollered.
And we did, but it didn’t matter. It happened so fast. It was over before I could even comprehend it.
He moved like an animal, picking each of us apart almost in unison.
I lay on my back, unable to feel my legs as I watched Jerry be disemboweled. He was trying to shove his intestines back inside the tear in his abdomen before the creature came back to finish him off.
I did a cross over myself but didn’t bother to pray.
As Pete stood over me, with dead eyes, I knew there was no God.
He didn’t exist inside these walls.
We were abandoned.
The unheard.
submitted by papabear513 to HFY [link] [comments]


2023.06.07 13:51 papabear513 The Experiments Beneath Green Haven Penitentiary

I stared up at the magazine cut out of a Maxim model that was crudely pasted on the underside of the top bunk. Her pert breast shimmied ever so slightly as Pete tossed and turned above.
She was platinum blonde with legs long enough to wrap around me twice. Or so the camera angle made it seem. I felt a stirring below, that yearning for a woman’s touch… which I hadn’t felt in six years, three months, and eleven days.
I rolled to my side, stifling it. It was the wrong time to seek out an orgasm, and I knew after the release I’d just spiral into self-loathing anyway. I focused on a crack in the cinder block until my eyelids became heavy.
Static pushed the thought of women from my mind as I slipped into sleep. The smell of cigars and oil flitted through my mind in a memory. My dad’s repair shop. The one I was meant to take over, before the arrest…
------
“Aaaarrgghh!”
A cry echoing from somewhere deep within the prison startled me awake. My heart thundered in my chest like a rabbit thrashing against its cage.
I rolled over to see Pete crouching low, his face pressed against the bars.
“What’s going on?” I croaked.
“They’re taking Benny.” He whispered.
“Fuck, really?” I pulled myself to the top corner of my mattress, just enough to peer around the edge of the bars.
Two guards wrestled the young latino onto a gurney as a man in a lab coat watched from a distance. He fought against them but it was futile. Once the straps were locked in he screamed once more, pleading for help.
Dozens of eyes watched from dim lit cells, none of which stirring to offer assistance in the slightest. We knew there was no helping him. We knew what happened next…
His cries were muffled as the doctor jammed a syringe into the base of his neck. Benny’s muscles tensed and pulsed in the fit of a seizure, but then lay still. The cell block was silent once more as they wheeled him down the hall and into the catacombs.
I did a cross over myself but didn’t bother to pray. Once they took them, they never came back.
“A damn shame…” I muttered.
“Yeah, he was a good kid…” Pete stood and leapt back onto the top bunk.
A fire burned in my chest. I wanted to say something. To cry out about the injustice of what was happening to us. That committing a crime shouldn’t damn a man to whatever terrible fate they had instore for us below three feet of steel and a quarter mile of dirt.
But I didn’t… What good could it do? Other than drawing attention to me in a very negative way.
Once they took you to the lab, you were never seen again.
All you could do was hope that your number was never called, and that you got out of here before they visited your cell late into the night.
—-----
87…88…89…90…
My chest was on fire as sweat dripped from the tip of my nose. I couldn’t go back to sleep last night. Kept thinking about Benny.
91…92…93…
So began the push-ups. It was the only way to clear my head.
94…95…96…
My therapy.
97…98…99…100.
I rolled to my back, out of breath.
Three years, six months and change.
So much time left to go.
Benny had only been here for a little over a year. It made no sense…
None of us could figure out exactly why they took who they took. There seemed to be no method to the madness.
Just a couple weeks ago they took old man Tom Finch. He’d been here longer than any of us. A lifer on the account of premeditated murder back in the 70s. But they didn’t come for him until he’d served most of his adult life behind bars.
The red beacon suddenly swirled above. A buzzing sound hummed as the cell doors clicked and slid open.
Breakfast.
—----
I pulled my tray along the bar to be loaded with oats, powdered eggs and bread.
Meager rations.
I grabbed a small carton of milk and made my way over to sit with Pete. He was already nibbling on his toast while perusing a crossword puzzle.
We exchanged nods and I went to devouring the entirety of my plate.
Calories build muscle after all.
Which was something Pete had no interest in. He was a bookworm through and through. Rail thin too. When we’d met, I’d assumed it was from the drug problem he’d had on the outside, which ultimately landed him in incarceration. But come to find out it was just his metabolism and general lack of appetite.
“John…” He whispered.
I looked up from my feast.
He was looking to the corner of the cafeteria and I followed his gaze to see two men in lab coats surveying the crowd.
I grunted and squeezed the handle of my fork until my knuckles went white. The impulse of burying it into their throats was almost overwhelming.
“Their activity has been ramping up.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve been seeing them much more frequently as of late. They must be close to a breakthrough.”
“Breakthrough of what?” I furrowed my brow.
“Who knows? Whatever it is they are doing down there. They’ve been taking us more often as well.”
Pete sighed at the twist of confusion on my face.
“Think about it… Benny last night, then Tom two weeks before that. Then Eric ten days before that, and Deonte maybe three weeks prior. It’s never been that close together. Until recently, they only came perhaps once every other month. Sometimes only once a season.”
Shit… he was right. I hadn’t realized it before.
“So what does that mean?” I asked, shoving another hunk of egg into my mouth.
“I have no idea. But I’d say our odds of survival have been reduced dramatically.”
—-----
Pete might as well have been an oracle, peering into our grim and desolate future.
Over the next several months we started seeing the lab coats weekly. Sometimes even more often than that.
The prison yard felt empty. Sure there were still plenty of us left, but our population had been noticeably trimmed. One gang in particular only had two members left, which didn’t bode well for them. The others slowly circled them like sharks. I had no affiliation with any of them and kept to myself. But still, I could see their fate a mile away.
Although, despite the business as usual dog eat dog atmosphere, there was an undercurrent of fear rippling through the general pop. You could smell it, like a scent of decay and desperation. Hard faces that had once promised violence, now almost flinched around every corner and jumped at each shadow.
The energy of a couple of hundred men that felt like an animal backed into a corner was palpable.
But what could we do?
I didn’t know but I sure wish someone would tell me… I threw myself into my workouts and Pete hardly ever looked up from a book. Escapism was our only reprieve.
I went to bed with a prayer on my lips, hoping I wouldn’t hear those iron bars moving in the late hours of the night.
—-----
A loud clanking followed by footsteps pulled me from sleep.
I squeezed my eyes tightly shut hoping it was the cell next to mine.
But it wasn’t…
Three guards hovered behind a fourth that was unlocking our cell. The bars clicked and began to slide open.
I jumped to my feet and backed up against the wall. I pulled my fists up into a boxing stance, I wasn’t going to go without a fight. My muscles tensed and flexed like coiled steel.
“In the corner inmate! We’re here for your cellmate.” A short and stocky corrections officer barked with his hand gripping the baton at his waist.
Pete squirmed into a ball at the corner of his mat and looked at me with wide, pleading eyes.
I put my face in the opposite corner as instructed. A mixture of fear and relief roiled in my gut, and I hated myself for it. It made me feel like a coward.
“No, no, no, no, no!” I heard Pete squeal from behind as guards flooded the cell.
I peaked over my shoulder and watched as they pried him from the top bunk. Pete tried to resist, but there was nothing to him. A bag of bones that they easily wrestled down.
That same fire ignited in my chest. Anger washed over me, cleansing away the cowardice. For God’s sake, he was my only friend.
All I could see was red.
I spun around bringing the back of my fist across a guard’s face, shattering the bridge of his nose. Blood spurted from it as he dropped Pete’s legs.
With a giant step forward I brought an uppercut into the portly officer’s abdomen, dropping him like a ton of bricks.
I shoved a third into the corner, pinning him there as I screamed for Pete to run. He scampered out the opening and the last thing I heard were his footfalls as a baton smashed across the back of my skull. Everything went black before I even hit the ground.
—-----
I spent a month in solitary.
The room was so small it should have been inhumane to house a human being inside of it.
Still… I made the best of it with dips, pushups and situps. Countless reps of them. It was all I could do.
Some mornings I’d wake up with horrible migraines. I assumed it was a slight concussion from the impact of the baton.
I only hoped Pete could have somehow made it out. But somewhere deep down I knew that would have been impossible. Hopefully he at least gave them some hell before they took him below.
I stopped praying before bed. It didn’t seem like it did any good.
If there was a God, he didn’t exist inside these walls.
We were abandoned.
The unheard.
—-------
When I finally got back to my cell it had been emptied of everything. Pete’s books, artwork from his niece and even my Maxim cutout.
Just like he’d never existed. My heart sunk at the sight.
Later that day I’d learned from others that he had been captured just moments after escaping the cell.
But our actions weren’t wasted in vain.
We were the first to fight back against the abduction and it sparked something in the others.
They started talks of an uprising a few weeks back. A prison riot.
They even had a guard on the inside. C.O. Matthews. He was a very religious man and was just as horrified by what was happening as we were and had been looking for a way to help.
“It’s going down tonight John, just before lights out. Be ready.” Jerry whispered at the picnic table.
I gave a nod that I understood and headed off for my daily jog around the courts.
It wasn’t about getting out. Getting free. That wasn’t going to happen. It was about sending a message.
I let my mind go blank, filling with static as I enjoyed what could be my last day outside.
—------
The beacon swirled overhead in the common area.
“Inmates to their cells. Lights out.” The intercom buzzed.
There were over fifty men in cell block B, and not a single one of us moved.
The voice on the intercom repeated himself angrily as guards began to shuffle in closer. Nods passed like dominoes from one inmate to the next. We were ready.
“Get to your cell inmate.” a guard growled as he clamped his hands down on my shoulders.
I threw an elbow behind me into his groin, he howled in pain as he hit the floor. The other inmates sprung to their feet and flew off from their leaning places to join in the brawl.
Fists, feet and batons flew wildly across the cell block as we engaged in war with the uniformed officers.
I grappled with one until I was able to submit him in a choke until he went limp in my arms.
I stomped another in the face, spilling blood and brains on the concrete floor.
It had looked like we were winning until they sent the special response team in. We formed a line, many of us battered and bloody, in front of the row of riot shields.
We waited for their charge for what felt like an eternity.
But suddenly they backed out from where they’d come and slid the cell block doors closed.
What the hell…
The red beacon swirled once again overhead as a clicking sounded out behind us.
The rear entrance that the lab coats had always used swung open. I spun around to see…
“Mary, mother of God.” I gasped.
It was Pete…
But there was something horribly wrong with him.
His skin clung loosely to his body and had a terrible jaundice looking hue to it. His eyes almost seemed to glow and his hands… they were impossibly large like contorted branches.
I held my hand up to my mouth in disbelief.
A scientist stepped out from behind him.
“As you can see, we have a few kinks left to iron out, but we are making great progress. Would you all care to see what he can do?” He looked into each of our eyes inquisitively.
“If you don’t, head back to your cells now. You have ten seconds and then I shall release him.”
It was so silent you could hear a pin drop. But a violent and hungry energy filled the room, emanating from what used to be my friend.
Suddenly, over half the remaining inmates bolted for their cells out of fear. Not that I could blame them, my knees wobbled and threatened to buckle just at the sight of him.
But I stood my ground, as did a handful of others.
“Very well then. Specimen 3-1-0, engage.”
A growl reverberated through the cell block.
“Everyone rush him at once! It’s our only shot.” I hollered.
And we did, but it didn’t matter. It happened so fast. It was over before I could even comprehend it.
He moved like an animal, picking each of us apart almost in unison.
I lay on my back, unable to feel my legs as I watched Jerry be disemboweled. He was trying to shove his intestines back inside the tear in his abdomen before the creature came back to finish him off.
I did a cross over myself but didn’t bother to pray.
As Pete stood over me, with dead eyes, I knew there was no God.
He didn’t exist inside these walls.
We were abandoned.
The unheard.
submitted by papabear513 to TheCrypticCompendium [link] [comments]


2023.06.07 13:41 tateorrtot USA, UK, Italy, or Sweden?

USA, UK, Italy, or Sweden?
Hi. I have 772 hours but still have trouble sticking to one tree to grind out. I play mostly ground.

The USA tree was my first, it feels really "mediocre"? It just doesn't seem to do anything unique or terrible so I have trouble finding what the hell to do. I'm also having an awful time right now at 6.7, I don't know if I'm playing stupid or what but my armor feels unreliable and my guns are lacking (probably because I'm used to crazy pen from the UK). I haven't got far in the air but they definitely have a lot of CAS. So far having a bad time grinding them out, they just feel real "meh". However, I've heard the Abrams & ADATS are great which is a good goal. Also, apparently, 6.7 USA "struggles" which I'm not sure is true, they just feel really lackluster.

https://preview.redd.it/swm7dzprzk4b1.png?width=1410&format=png&auto=webp&s=2461d7ff6d3a550a7c8cf1f5c6e04b8225b8c18e
https://preview.redd.it/1kobzts5xk4b1.png?width=1411&format=png&auto=webp&s=1d0aae9c50cbb42aa3b6afe93e9d6465a973487a
The UK is the tree I mained for a long time especially once I really got into the game. Crazy pen, terrible post damage, awful reverse gear, and now the shells "shatter" all the time at higher BRs. I don't know if there was a change or what but it feels like something changed with APDS. I love the pen though, it's amazing penning a tiger or panther from 500+ meters without aiming too hard for a weak spot. However, the tanks do feel a bit slow and promote hull-down sniping which I'm not sure how I feel about, really fun if I'm in the mood for it but need a lot of patience for it. I've also heard the challengers are some of the worst MBTs in the game making me lose quite a bit of motivation to grind for them. I've heard/experienced mixed things about the air tree.

https://preview.redd.it/i86yfqz1yk4b1.png?width=1405&format=png&auto=webp&s=8a1e7d56c565ca5ab0287b2571341d5bf41dcc46
https://preview.redd.it/pt7kovo2yk4b1.png?width=1390&format=png&auto=webp&s=fa754eeea3fcf831a2f36bd6bc55a0331d6390c5

https://preview.redd.it/ed1vefruzk4b1.png?width=269&format=png&auto=webp&s=17e60fa10510d2b044525fdc1bfbab2cd30c2450
Italy is weird. Their tanks almost always have zero armor and either good firepower or speed (Breda, R3, Fiat 6614, etc). I'm finding it fun to play them, a bit challenging, but I'm losing a lot of motivation since their MBT line, the Arietes, are apparently the worst in the game. The lack of armor also makes it difficult since you have to play in a very specific way of flanking and a lot of the time they have great post-pen damage, but not great pen damage. Again, I'm really thrown off by how terrible I've heard the Ariete is. Like Britain, I don't feel great working towards something subpar. No comments so far on the air. I tried the first, and my first, heli. It works in the right long-distance situations.

https://preview.redd.it/3b90xixozk4b1.png?width=1476&format=png&auto=webp&s=6ecc424c62c2a57effd2b40c61b13d813bec0fcb
https://preview.redd.it/msddvx4qzk4b1.png?width=1429&format=png&auto=webp&s=a79f766bb5b9e287d0f63632657b37c9dbf5497e
Finally, Sweden. I've barely progressed in it but holy hell these things are stupid good. At first glance, it looks like I'm just having a great time pummeling people at 1.0, but I'm actually joining a squad with my Israeli 6.0 friend while bringing the reserve vehicles (Strv m/31, Strv/38) against 6.0 Tigers, Panthers, T-34s, and doing well. Feel like a literal Chad toying with them and pulling some crazy and stupid shit. There is literally no other tree I've been able to do this and I'm guessing it's the Swede's use of APDS at such early BRs. It reminds me a lot of Britain and it's a great feeling. I have no idea if I'm just getting lucky or what. I'm a bit torn since I feel so gravitated toward this tree after not experiencing much of it and I don't want to end up grinding down this tree just to end up being stuck at rank IV like all my other trees.

https://preview.redd.it/8uka87oj1l4b1.png?width=1439&format=png&auto=webp&s=f933605dc8e507e3defb42af7c0cc5db4f74d934
https://preview.redd.it/40p4okek1l4b1.png?width=1434&format=png&auto=webp&s=7ea9765693321aabc1c15fd96e0300380c990970
Any advice or thoughts? I also have premium and I'm open to buying premium vehicles to help the grind. Thanks!

My progress in Air USA
submitted by tateorrtot to Warthunder [link] [comments]


2023.06.07 13:37 zgthor Eery feeling while play lbp1 at night

When i was a kid, about 2010 ish i used to play a lot of lbp1 and i loved it, but i don't remember exactly if it was this map related or the game in general but i always felt a very bad feeling while playing it at night time iirc it was a specific map, a shark map where you'd have to run on a straight line over some platforms and the sharks would burst from behind you upwards and then fall, or something very similar to that iirc the goal was to see how far you could go. The map wasn't a horror map, just a regular player created map but i always felt like i should immediately stop playing it. I remember thinking it was all in my head back then when i invited my friend over to play games, we used to play nuns1-2 at the time but hop on different games as well, we booted up the map, played and after some time, i think like 10-30m we felt sick, the eery feeling was overwhelming for both of us, after that i don't think i played it at night anymore, i was thinking of this because somewhat recently lbp3 got into ps plus and i wanted to play it with my wife because besides this experience i had a great time with lp1, but then she told me that she never played it but always had an eery feeling looking at it. That got me wondering if this feeling was shared with other people or it was more of a secluded experience, i want to know if you ever felt something playing lbp i don't mind if all you got to say is "no i haven't felt that with this game or any game", I'd rather reading that then to not read anything on this subject
submitted by zgthor to littlebigplanet [link] [comments]


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submitted by lissajonese to u/lissajonese [link] [comments]


2023.06.07 13:30 Bragior Class Discussion: Apsaras (post-Ultimate Mastery Update)

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Class Discussion: Apsaras

Dance and flow along the currents of the winds as you glide your way to victory.

Resources

Unlock Prerequisites

  • CP ×2,500
  • Cavalryman Distinction ×20
  • Superior Lancer trophy — Clear the quest Search for an Heir with a Lancer-type class

Class Details

  • Style: Attack
  • Specialty: Spear, Axe

Level Bonuses

Level Bonus
1 ATK +1,000
5 Double Attack +5%
10 ATK +1,000
15 Triple Attack +5%
20 Double Attack +5%, Triple Attack +5%
  • Total: ATK +2,000; Double Attack +10%; Triple Attack +10%
  • Completion Bonus: Inhibit Overdrive +1% and Double Attack Rate +1%

Master Bonuses

Level Bonus Level Bonus Level Bonus
1 - 11 Skill DMG +2% 21 Skill DMG +2%
2 Skill DMG +2% 12 Skill DMG Cap +1% 22 Skill DMG Cap +1%
3 Skill DMG Cap +1% 13 ATK +400 23 Skill DMG Cap +1%
4 ATK +400 14 Skill DMG +2% 24 Skill DMG +2%
5 Skill DMG +2% 15 Skill DMG Cap +1% 25 Skill DMG Cap +1%
6 Skill DMG Cap +1% 16 ATK +400 26 ATK +400
7 ATK +400 17 Skill DMG +2% 27 Skill DMG +2%
8 Skill DMG +2% 18 Skill DMG Cap +1% 28 Skill DMG Cap +1%
9 Skill DMG Cap +1% 19 ATK +400 29 Skill DMG +2%
10 ATK +400 20 New Support Skill 30 Main Skill Upgrade
  • Total: ATK +2,800, Skill DMG +20%, Skill DMG Cap +10%
  • New Support Skill: Free-Flowing Style
  • Unlocked Class Color Outfits:
    • Lancer (Lvl 10)
    • Dragoon (Lvl 15)
    • Valkyrie (Lvl 20)
    • Apsaras (Lvl 30)

Ultimate Mastery Bonuses

  1. ATK +3,500
  2. HP +1,500
  3. Skill DMG Cap +5%
  4. Skill DMG +12%
  5. Charge Bar Gain +10%
  6. Debuff Success Rate +7%

Support Skills

Name Obtained Description
Swim Like a Bird, Fly Like a Fish Lvl 1 Boost to double attack rate when equipping a spear.
Amplify normal attack damage by 10% when equipping an axe.
Crisis Blow Lvl 1 Boost to "Resonating Surge" skill's damage.
Free-Flowing Style Mst 20 Boost to stats based on the number of spears and axes equipped.
  • Swim Like a Bird, Fly Like a Fish:
    • Amplify damage does not stack with "Free-Flowing Style" support skill. Only the highest value will apply.
  • Free-Flowing Style:
    • Gain the following cumulative effects based on the number of spears and axes equipped:
      1. 20% ATK Up (Unique)
      2. Guaranteed DA
      3. 30% Normal Attack DMG Amplified
      4. 10% DMG Cap Up
      5. 10% Bonus DMG

Main Skill

  • Name: Thunder on the Water
  • Skill Type: Damaging (Red)
  • Cooldown: 6 turns
Obtained Effects Duration
Lvl 1 3-hit, 100% Elemental damage to a foe (Cap: ~200,000 per hit). Instant
Inflict Break Boosted (Time) to a foe in Break. ? seconds
Boost to specs based on number of spears and axes equipped (Max: Level 3).
Mst 30 Gain additional specs based on number of spears and axed equipped (Max: Level 5).
  • Gain the following cumulative effects based on the number of spears and axes equipped.
    1. 10% Skill DMG Up (Stackable) (Max: 40%)
    2. Charge Bar +20%
    3. Activates twice
    4. 5% Skill DMG Cap Up (Stackable) (Max: 20%)
    5. 5% DMG Cap Up (Stackable) (Max: 20%)

EMP Skill 1

  • Name: Swan Song
  • Skill Type: Buffing (Yellow)
  • Cooldown: 9 turns
  • EMP Cost: 20
Effects Duration
All parties gain 10% Charge Bar Gain Up. 3 turns
When Spear is equipped: All parties gain 80% Critical Hit Rate Up (20% DMG). 3 turns
When Axe is equipped: All allies gain Drain (800) and 10% Debuff Success Boosted. 3 turns

EMP Skill 2

  • Name: Dance of Zeal
  • Skill Type: Buffing (Yellow)
  • Cooldown: 8 turns
  • EMP Cost: 5
Effects Duration
Gain Devotion. 3 turns
All other allies gain 50% ATK Up and 20% DEF Down. 3 turns
  • Devotion causes the ally with the highest HP to substitute for the MC. Does not include all-ally attacks.
  • DEF Down can be cleared.

EMP Skill 3

  • Name: Springwater Robe
  • Skill Type: Buffing (Yellow)
  • Cooldown: 6 turns
  • EMP Cost: 10
Effects Duration
Gain Mirror Image (2 times). Until used
Gain Springwater Robe. 3 turns or until used
  • Springwater Robe causes the next skill to activate both Spear and Axe effects.
  • The following skills are affected by Springwater Robe:
    • Drive It In I/II (Lancer, Dragoon, and Valkyrie main skill)
    • Double Trouble I/II/III
    • Swan Song
    • Crestfallen Flower

EMP Skill 4

  • Name: Crestfallen Flower
  • Skill Type: Buffing (Yellow)
  • Cooldown: 6 turns
  • EMP Cost: 30
Effects Duration
Gain 50% Debuff Res. Up. 3 turns
When Spear is equipped: All allies gain 10%-20% Strength. 3 turns
When Axe is equipped: All allies gain 10%-20% Jammed. 3 turns

EMP Skill 5

  • Name: Lightning Strike
  • Skill Type: Buffing (Yellow)
  • Cooldown: 6 turns
  • EMP Cost: 50
Effects Duration
Spear-specialty allies gain Guaranteed TA. 1 turn
Axe-specialty allies gain 15% DMG Amplified. 3 turns
  • Allies with both Spear and Axe specialties gain both effects.

UM Skill 1

  • Name: Nyagrodha
  • Skill Type: Damaging (Red)
  • Cooldown: 8 turns
Effects Duration
5-hit, 100% Elemental damage to all foes (Cap: ~68,000 per hit). Instant
Inflict 25% ATK Down and 25% DEF Down on all foes. 180 seconds
Number of hits increase by 1 for each Axe and Spear weapon equipped (Max: 15 hits total).

UM Skill 2

  • Name: Crowning Fluidity
  • Skill Type: Buffing (Yellow)
  • Cooldown: Cannot be recast
Effects Duration
Gain Crowning Fluidity. Indefinite
  • Crowning Fluidity applies 1 Beguiling Dance stack to the caster at the end of the turn (Max: 5 stacks).
  • Beguiling Dance supplements damage by 30,000 per stack (Max: 150,000 per instance).
  • Beguiling Dance stacks resets upon taking damage.
  • Crowning Fluidity and Beguiling Dance cannot be removed.

UM Skill 3

  • Name: Showstopper
  • Skill Type: Buffing (Yellow)
  • Skill Standby: 6 turns
  • Cooldown: Cannot be recast
Effects Duration
Gain Full Hostility and Dodge/Tank-and-Counter (5 hits). 1 turn
When Spear is equipped: Also gain 50% Sharp ATK Up (Assassin). 1 turn
When Axe is equipped: Also gain Full-Force Counter. 1 turn

Helpful topics to discuss

  • What role does this class fill and what content does it do particularly well in?
  • Which elements are best suited to using this class?
  • What MH weapons are particularly suited to this class?
  • Is the CCW worth using for this class?
  • How does this class compare to other classes, for early-, middle-, and late-game players?
  • What general subskill would you recommend using with this class?
  • Which EMP nodes would you prioritize for the class?
  • Which EMP skill are worth taking?
  • How does this class fare in full auto?
  • How does this class fare in battle system 2.0?
  • How do you personally use this class, if at all?
  • How was the class improved with Mastery Bonuses?
  • How was the class improved with Ultimate Mastery Bonuses?
submitted by Bragior to Granblue_en [link] [comments]