1. I join a company.

2. I get deeply involved in "how to run the company", and get nice compliments from both coworkers & management about my skills in conveying startup/scaleup advice & necessities to upper management.

3. With my ego inflated through all the sweet talk, I think "ah, what the hell, let's do this again", and I accept a Lead/CTO promotion. I have to join board meetings, write reports on quarterly plans and progress.

4. I get unhappy/stressed/burned-out because I really just want to be a developer, not a manager/executive.

5. Upper management understands, I give up my lead position, lock myself back into my coding cave.

6. I get annoyed because the requirements I receive become more and more disconnected from reality, half of the teams seem to have decided to stop using agile/scrum, the testing pipeline breaks all the time, I get an updated labor contract from HR by mail which smells like charred flesh, etc

7. The annoyances become too much to do ANY work. I yell at the other devs outside of the entrance of my cave. There is no answer, only a few painful moans and sighs.

8. I emerge from my cave. The city has turned into a desolate wasteland. The office is a burning ruin, the air sharp and heavy with black soot. Disemboweled corpses of developers litter the poisoned soil.

Product Managers dressed in stained ripped suits scream at each other while they try to reinforce concrete barricades with scotch tape and post-its. *THUMP* Something enormous is trying to break through. "Thank God, bittersweet, you're still alive! The stakeholders! They have mutated! We couldn't meet the promised deadlines! We've lost the whole mobile app department, and that kid there is the last of the backenders and he's only an intern! You're here to save us, right? RIGHT?".

In the corner, between the overflowing coffee machine and a withered cactus, a young boy has collapsed onto the floor. His face is covered in moldy coffee grounds, clasping on to his closed macbook for dear life, wide-open eyes staring into the void, mumbling: "didn't backup the database, and It's all gone" over and over.

A severely dented black Tesla with a dragging loose bumper breaks through the dried up vertical herb garden and the smoothiebar, and comes to a halt against the beanbags in a big cloud of styrofoam balls.

The CEO limps out, leaking blood all over the upholstery. He yells to the COO: "The datacenter is completely flooded with sewage! I saved the backup tapes though", holding a large nest of tangled black magnetic tape mixed with clumps of mud above his head.

9. I collect my outstanding salary and sell any rewarded options/shares for a low dumping price, take a 5 month holiday, and ask a recruiter about opportunities in a different city.

Have somewhat of a headache but I still want to work on some stuff so I started using f.lux and it's so much easier on my eyes than having the full on blue light burning my eyes out. Any one else using f.lux here?

How can people work with those surface of sun level bright white IDE themes? Like, do you wear your sunglasses at home too?

!dev

Nothing is a dream.

My very first step, as I left the staircase, was on a plate. A loud click made my instincts tick, pushing me to blindly roll forwards.

Before I even had the time to process, that I had just evaded being burnt alive by a wall of flames, the rumblings of another mechanism made my heart accelerate yet again.

Five iron spikes descended uppon me, scratching my cloak, but no more. Twice I was lucky...

But three doors: one behind me, two to my left and right. The ones at my sides spring open with a loud crack, and four terrors pour out, seeking to flay me alive and wear my skin.

I slash at them with my bloody falchion, walking backwards, seeking to escape through the remaining door. Primal fear runs through my spine as I realize: it's barred from the other side!

Burning through my mana, I manage to unlock the door, and quickly close it behind me... but the terrors do not abandon the chase. With inhuman strength, they pound on the door, while desperately crying out for my blood.

I try to escape to the next room... another locked door. There must be another way! There has to, or I'm as well as dead...

What's this, in the corner, among cobwebs? A handle... and a secret passageway, that I can close from the other side! Magnificent!

Another flight of stairs takes me deeper into the tomb. I find an oil lamp, suspiciously well-maintained. Someone has been here recently...

I marvel at the macabre carvings on the wall, depicting scenes from when immortal tyrants ruled the earth. Haven't I seen these before... ?

No matter, I must focus. I was instructed to find an artefact hidden within this acursed place, that I may use for the purification ritual -- there is only one way, so onwards.

An old wooden gate, with a broken bronze knob. Soon as I put my hand on it, it opens inwards...

Eyes black like diamonds, she awaited me inside.

I had never been, simultaneously, just as terrified as enraptured. Day and night, her voice still reverberates inside my mind. And even as I lay dead, her inescapable gaze still clutches the very bottom of my heart.

"Did you come for me?" she asked, smiling, opening up her arms, so that I may fall into her sweet, loving embrace.

"Yes" I whispered as I walked towards her, enthralled.

In a bout of deranged ecstasy, she drank every last drop of my blood. But then... she cried, cuddling my remains.

"No... no, no, NO!" her screams tore apart her very soul "I killed my son... I KILLED MY SON!"

Oh, mother...
Don't cry mother
it hurts no more.

Now I live again.
And I forgive you.

Because I loved you,
as ashamed as I am to admit,
the very moment I saw your eyes,
I loved you.

"I was imprisoned here, so that I may not harm anyone else" she muttered, tears in her eyes "I cannot stop myself -- I am cursed"

Do not ask of me, that I end your suffering.
How could I?
If there is no cure...

"Please, my love... " she begged "kill me... "

No... I can't...
I can't bear either weight
for the rest of this wretched eternity!

How could I take your life?
But how could I leave you to suffer?!

"Now we'll be together... " she smiled, as I raised the falchion.

"Forevermore" I wept, before bringing it down.

***

Nothing is a dream.

Somber, I returned to the Santuary, having fulfilled my mission.

But looking uppon the bone mask I donned, obscuring my eyes, the Matriarch knew that I had been... changed.

I felt no remorse as I slaughtered the witch that doomed my beloved, right on her own altar to heresy. She earned as much.

Her guards, however, I could not defeat.

But that doesn't matter;
deep inside, I was already dead.
And behind the mask,
the whole way through,
I had shed tears without pause.

"Now we'll be together... " I prayed to the nightsky, as silver blades punctured my thorax.

"Forevermore" her sweet voice replied.

***

!tech i don't understand how people makes any place a home?

I have an experience of living with my parents and that is a place where i feel belonging and safe, but i wonder why? like , in your home, you could be awake till 4 am and still sleep like a log. you won't have thoughts of strangers trying to murder you or rob you when you hear the slightest noise. (atleast not occasionally)

but this is not the case when you try to live alone. for eg , i would often call/text someone before sleep when i am staying in a hotel room. and if the hotel isn't a superior one (imagine those close, small rooms w in a broken up 2 star hotel in a quiet and unpopulated area), i would be sleeping with my eyes open, praying the night to get over

So an early conclusion can be this : a person would feel safe and carefree wherever they are with known people. in my home i got my parents. although its weird since they are neither physically nor financially powerful to deal with any stranger situation. But still, a home feels home. and a home feels safe.

maybe it's because of the the people around the home? so most people have neighbours, shops, parks, efc around their homes. some even have forests, police stations or other places in vicinity. so does that make an area safe to breathe ?

For our family, i don't know if that thing applies. our neighbours are crappy dummies who would rather have someone's home burning than coming for rescue, but fight to death if someone parks in their spot or ask them to fix something. If their is a robbery in our area, i would rather suspect one of those assheads to be the culprits than someone from outside.

however, knowing the fact that they know us makes me think that this is a considerable factor that add to the sense of safeness in an environment . i guess that's why even the verbal quarrels among neighbours are done in such a noisy manner.

So if someone is shifting to another location, say in a different city or even a different state, they should spend first few days befriending every neighborhood person? that would be a weird approach. i have seen a few shiftings in my area and the new people rarely try to come into attention. even the people who get shifter on temporary basis (i.e the rent based pg/tenents etc), are always silent.

so how exactly does anyone make a new house, their comfortable and safe 'home' ?

I could write a fucking dissertation on why snek is objectively a piece of shit, together with all your favorite dumbass collections of syntactic diarrhea full of needless operators and toothless fucking conventions that make no sense in retrospect.

By that I mean to say among all of it's real world uses the foremost is screwing yourself, which is analogous to utilizing the fine hands of a classically trained violinist for virtuous masturbation. And you cannot fix it, you can only Keep It Solemnly Sucking.

Now I'm not saying that if they were humans their lot in life would be to get down on their knees and passionately blow me until my eyes pop out. All I'm saying is their lot in life IS to get DOWN and passionately BLOW me until my eyes pop out, to which the general scientific consensus is indeed yes, it is, and they absolutely should.

But back to commanding the demons trapped inside the sillicon and all the existing ways to to do so being terrible half-assed abortions that serve as a perfect encapsulation and prime example of mankind's greatest shame and failures. If I had to volcanically ejaculate for each time I heard a thorough and perfectly valid critique of insert flavor of fucking stupid, I'd be long-rotting dead from dehydration.

You think that's funny? A man just died creaming in his pants and we are all wiser for it, show some respect. Some people simply do not understand the value of humility, and I will be *proud* to anally humble them for it, free of charge.

Anytime, I swear, ANYTIME that I come back to a language I fucking hate and I'm immediately reminded of why I do everything in my power to avoid it, I invariably come out with the feeling that it wasn't quite as bad as the last time.

THAT is how I measure my progress: still swimming in a sea of deeply decolored and fermenting alien reptile excretion -- but I'm a much better swimmer. This isn't so bad, I may even ignore the burning desire to kill myself next time.

But I'm so blinded by your plump fucking tits that I can't even remember what was my point, I may have just delivered the verbal equivalent of complete mental castration. Again.