u/Putrid_Draft378

I was trying to watch some clips on my computer earlier and realized how annoying the web layout is. there is no way to watch stuff in landscape or expand the video past that narrow phone column.

Plus the left menu and all the like and share buttons stay right on top of the video the whole time with no way to hide them.

Does anyone use a specific extension or browser trick to make watching on a pc a bit cleaner, or is this just how it is?

Hey everyone,

I’ve been testing out my ASUS Zenbook A16 (X2 Elite Extreme), and something has been driving me crazy. Even when I’m sitting in "Best Power Efficiency" and Battery Saver mode with very low screen brightness and literally nothing open in the background, the estimated battery time remaining looks completely underwhelming (sitting around 5 hours at 62%, as seen in the screenshot).

For a chip that’s supposed to be an efficiency beast, seeing numbers like this feels super disappointing at first glance.

Is Windows 11’s built-in battery estimation tool just notoriously outdated, terrible, or outright bugged on ARM? Or are other Snapdragon users seeing these wildly inaccurate estimates too, while the actual battery life in real-world usage turns out much better?

Would love to hear your experiences!

Heading out to Copenhagen where the new Ring 3 Light Rail is opening soon. It connects suburbs, major malls, a massive university campus, and two large hospitals along a congested ring road.

For anyone here who follows transit systems or lives in a city with a major new tram line:

What are the best international examples or out-of-the-box strategies you've seen for boosting ridership, integrating retail areas, connecting university campuses, or marketing a new tram to regular car commuters?

Looking for inspiration!

I think about the Season 5 finale all the time, especially Ahsoka's final words to Anakin: "I know." To me, it meant she had completely figured out his relationship with Padmé.

Since she left the Order, I've always felt like there was no real reason for him not to come clean to her. I wanted to see them actually sit down, talk about all his fears and secret worries, and just be completely honest with each other. They were both in such a vulnerable place, but the show just moved past it.

Even their reunion in Season 7 felt way too formal and lighthearted to me, considering everything they had been through. And personally, I would've loved to see the heavier side of Ahsoka's reality—she was a teenager dealing with severe trauma, stress, and the horrors of a galactic war as a child soldier. Seeing Anakin actually check in on her mental well-being and be there for her during those struggles would have made their bond feel so much more real.

Do you guys understand why I feel like this dynamic was shortchanged, or do you like how it played out?

I think about the Season 5 finale all the time, especially Ahsoka's final words to Anakin: "I know." To me, it meant she had completely figured out his relationship with Padmé.

Since she left the Order, I've always felt like there was no real reason for him not to come clean to her. I wanted to see them actually sit down, talk about all his fears and secret worries, and just be completely honest with each other. They were both in such a vulnerable place, but the show just moved past it.

Even their reunion in Season 7 felt way too formal and lighthearted to me, considering everything they had been through. And personally, I would've loved to see the heavier side of Ahsoka's reality—she was a teenager dealing with severe trauma, stress, and the horrors of a galactic war as a child soldier. Seeing Anakin actually check in on her mental well-being and be there for her during those struggles would have made their bond feel so much more real.

Do you guys understand why I feel like this dynamic was shortchanged, or do you like how it played out?

I can't wait to finally ride the X250 and leave the bouncy, motion-sick 90s X2000 behind. The flat floors and cell-friendly windows alone are a massive win.

But I hate that we're still getting the same old corporate bistro pushing overpriced microwave wraps and plastic salads. Looking at what České dráhy does with actual restaurant cars on the ComfortJet makes me bitter—they actually treat onboard dining like hospitality.

Do you guys even bother with the bistro anymore, or do you just do what I do and stock up on better, cheaper food at the station before boarding?

Drop a URL, get an error, paste the text manually. Make it make sense, Google.

Drop a URL, get an error, paste the text manually. Make it make sense, Google.

Drop a URL, get an error, paste the text manually. Make it make sense, Google.

Drop a URL, get an error, paste the text manually. Make it make sense, Google.

I am so sick of sitting in this endless, roasting metal parking lot on the I-15 trying to get back from Vegas. I want out.

​I think we are completely blind to how broken our obsession with single-occupancy cars is. I want to ban solo drivers entirely during peak windows—if you're driving the I-15 alone, I want you paying a brutal $200 congestion toll or getting locked out. I want minimum passenger floors, aggressive rewards for full cars, and a hard 50 mph cap to stop those stupid accordion traffic jams.

​I don't want to wait decades for a bullet train or try to bulldoze the Mojave. I want us to stop moving empty metal boxes and force people to share space, starting yesterday.

Hey everyone,

I just noticed the new Smart Model Selection toggle in the advanced settings, but when I head back to the chat, the model dropdown still shows a fixed model (like Flash-Lite).

Even though it's supposed to auto-switch behind the scenes, leaving the UI showing a static model makes it super confusing. It leaves me constantly wondering: Is it actually switching? Am I going to get a worse answer for complex coding tasks because it's stuck on a light model?

It feels like it really needs a dedicated "Auto" status or badge in the chat UI so we actually know it's working.

Are you guys seeing this too? Do you prefer manual control, or how do you feel about this implementation?

Hey everyone,

I just noticed the new Smart Model Selection toggle in the advanced settings, but when I head back to the chat, the model dropdown still shows a fixed model (like Flash-Lite).

Even though it's supposed to auto-switch behind the scenes, leaving the UI showing a static model makes it super confusing. It leaves me constantly wondering: Is it actually switching? Am I going to get a worse answer for complex coding tasks because it's stuck on a light model?

It feels like it really needs a dedicated "Auto" status or badge in the chat UI so we actually know it's working.

Are you guys seeing this too? Do you prefer manual control, or how do you feel about this implementation?

Hey everyone,

I just noticed the new Smart Model Selection toggle in the advanced settings, but when I head back to the chat, the model dropdown still shows a fixed model (like Flash-Lite).

Even though it's supposed to auto-switch behind the scenes, leaving the UI showing a static model makes it super confusing. It leaves me constantly wondering: Is it actually switching? Am I going to get a worse answer for complex coding tasks because it's stuck on a light model?

It feels like it really needs a dedicated "Auto" status or badge in the chat UI so we actually know it's working.

Are you guys seeing this too? Do you prefer manual control, or how do you feel about this implementation?

The black sand of Mustafar hissed beneath boots that carried the weight of a war ending in ash. The air was thick with sulfur, toxic fumes, and the heavy, smoke-choked atmosphere of the Separatist command center. Anakin Skywalker stood at the edge of the landing platform, his dark cloak billowing in the gale, waiting for the ship to touch down.

He had expected Obi-Wan. He had mentally prepared himself to face the final obstacle of his past, the stubborn relic of a Jedi Council that had doubted him, held him back, and driven him into a destiny he now owned.

The boarding ramp lowered with a pneumatic groan.

Anakin’s jaw tightened, his hand twitching toward his lightsaber hilt, but the breath hitched sharply in his throat when the figure emerged from the smoke.

It wasn't a bearded Jedi Master in robes. It was a Togruta warrior, her white-and-orange montrals stark against the crimson hellscape, her face carved from stone and absolute, devouring grief. In each hand, a blade ignited with a sharp, lethal hiss—not the familiar green or blue of her youth, but twin beams of stark, brilliant white.

Ahsoka Tano.

For a fraction of a second, the yellow-gold fire in Anakin's eyes flickered. The towering wall of anger cracked, and beneath it, for one agonizing heartbeat, the terrified, desperate boy from Tatooine clawed his way back to the surface.

"Ahsoka?"

The name left his lips like a broken plea. He took two stumbling steps forward, his hand extending past the heavy folds of his cloak, his fingers trembling.

"You came," he breathed, a frantic, pathetic hope blooming in his chest. A desperate, hopeful smile broke across his tear-stained face, cutting through the soot on his skin. "You saw what they were. You knew the Council was corrupt, you knew the Jedi were holding us back. Together, we can bring peace. We can fix the galaxy, Snips—"

"Stop calling me that," she said.

Her voice wasn't a roar. It wasn't filled with the righteous fury of a soldier. It was cold, hollow, and utterly shattered.

Anakin froze, his outstretched hand hanging in the heavy air. The smile vanished from his face, replaced by a sudden, sharp spasm of confusion. "What?"

"I said, stop calling me that," Ahsoka repeated, her voice steady, though her hands shook so badly the white lightsabers wavered against the dark. She looked past him, her golden-brown eyes sweeping over the smoldering slag heap of the fortress behind him, taking in the empty, silent corridors where the Separatist leaders lay defeated. Finally, her gaze dragged back to his face—to the strange glow in his eyes, the dark tears staining his cheeks. "The man who called me Snips died a long time ago. I'm just here to stop what he's doing."

The silence between them was heavier than the magma churning a hundred feet below.

Anakin’s expression twisted, the fragile illusion shattering into a million jagged pieces. The warmth he had sought in her presence curdled instantly into fierce, burning hostility. She wasn't here to join him. She wasn't here to understand. She looked at him the way a guardian looks at a tragedy they failed to prevent.

"You're against me, then," Anakin whispered, his voice dropping into a register that made the air itself seem to curdle.

"I'm with you," Ahsoka choked out, a single tear cutting a clean path through the soot on her cheek, evaporating in the intense heat before it could fall. "That's why I have to stop you."

She moved first.

There was no formal bow, no traditional opening stance of the form they had practiced together for years. Ahsoka closed the distance in a blur of motion, her twin white blades crossing in a ferocious overhead strike meant to test his guard.

Clang!

The impact sent a shockwave through the black sand. Anakin caught her blades with a single crimson emitter, his cybernetic arm groaning with mechanical torque as he shoved her back with enough force to skid her boots across the metal grating.

"You always were a slow learner!" Anakin roared, the mask of absolute control slamming back down over his mind.

He lunged forward, unleashing a flurry of blows that carried the sheer, unchecked weight of a collapsing star. Every strike was designed to overwhelm, to corner, to break her resolve the way she had broken his heart by walking away from the Temple.

Ahsoka didn't try to overpower him. She couldn't. Anakin possessed a raw, terrifying strength born of the dark side that defied physics. Instead, she fell back on the only thing that kept her alive: the rhythm of survival. She ducked beneath a horizontal slash that scorched the tips of her montrals, spun away from a sudden kinetic push that would have knocked her off balance, and brought her white blades up to parry a downward blow that cracked the stone beneath their feet.

They danced a terrible, intimate waltz across the precipice of the lava river. Every clash of their blades was a conversation written in shared history and broken promises.

"You left me!" Anakin screamed over the roar of the magma, his face inches from hers as their lightsabers locked in a violent cross, his eyes boring straight into hers. "When I needed you most! When the Council betrayed me, you walked away!"

"I walked away from the Jedi, Anakin! Not from you!" Ahsoka yelled back, her teeth gritted, muscles straining as she pushed against the crushing weight of his blade. "I would have followed you anywhere! But you didn't ask for a partner—you wanted someone to follow you down into the dark!"

"I brought peace!"

"You brought destruction!"

She twisted out of the lock, bringing her left blade up in a swift arc that caught his cloak, tearing through the fabric. Anakin grunted, stumbling back, but the dark side turned the sudden adrenaline into pure, unadulterated focus.

He didn't hesitate. He laughed—a jagged, hollow sound that echoed off the obsidian walls.

"Then stand out of the way," Anakin spat.

The fight shifted. The defensive grace that Ahsoka had maintained began to fray under the relentless, suffocating tide of his assault. Anakin pressed the advantage, using his strength and the environment to box her in, cutting off her exits, forcing her back step by step.

Ahsoka gasped, stumbling backward onto the narrow catwalk extending over the boiling lava. The heat was blistering, melting the soles of her boots.

Anakin stalked toward her step by step, his red blade hissing menacingly in the dim, ash-choked air. His chest heaved, his face slick with sweat and soot, a relentless force closing the distance on a cornered opponent.

"Look at you," Anakin mocked, his voice dripping with bitter irony. "The great padawan. The proud warrior. Down on your defenses, just like all the rest."

Ahsoka fell back against the control console at the end of the gantry, her breath coming in ragged, shallow gasps. Her arms trembled so violently she could barely keep her lightsabers ignited. One of her white blades flickered and died, the power cell drained from the intense strain.

She looked up at him—not with defiance, not with anger, but with an agonizing, bottomless sorrow.

"Anakin..." she whispered, blood trickling from a cut on her lip. "Please. Look at what you're doing. Look at your path."

Anakin stopped.

For a fraction of a second, his eyes dropped—the mechanical fingers of his right hand trembling slightly in the red glow of his blade.

The rage faltered, replaced by a sudden, terrifying void. A look of profound, sickening realization crossed his features, his breath catching.

No, the boy inside screamed. What have I become?

And then, just as quickly as it came, the doubt was forced down, sealed away behind a wall of cold, unyielding resolve. A snarl twisted his face. He raised his crimson blade high above his head, his muscles bunching for the final, decisive stroke.

"There is no turning back," Vader rasped, his voice dropping an octave, heavy with the terrifying finality of a bridge burned. "This is the only way."

Ahsoka closed her eyes. She didn't flinch. She didn't beg. She simply let go, her mind drifting back to the sunlit gardens of the Jedi Temple, remembering the mentor who used to pull her through the worst days of the war.

I'm sorry, Master, she thought. I couldn't save you.

The red blade swept down—

Slash.

The sound wasn't the clean slice of a finishing blow, but a jarring, heavy impact that sent a shockwave up Anakin's arms.

Anakin blinked, the red haze parting for a fraction of an inch.

Ahsoka’s eyes snapped open.

Standing between them on the narrow gantry, blocking the crimson beam with a crackling blue lightsaber of his own, was a tall, cloaked figure whose beard was graying with ash, and whose eyes held the heaviest, most heartbreaking sorrow the galaxy had ever known.

Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Anakin stared at him, his chest heaving, the red light casting long, dramatic shadows across the walls of Mustafar. The circle was closed. The tragedy was set in motion.

And as Obi-Wan slowly pushed Anakin back, stepping forward to face the brother he loved, Ahsoka slumped against the burning console, sliding down to the black steel floor, watching the two ghosts of her past tear the world apart.

The air inside the detention center beneath the Jedi Temple was thick with the copper scent of ozone and the distant, muffled concussions of explosions shaking the foundation above. The clone troopers had already breached the lower levels. The Great Purge had begun.

Barriss Offee sat in the shadows of her solitary cell, the energy barrier humming a low, lethal tune. Her trial was a distant memory, Ahsoka’s departure an old wound. She had believed she was purifying the Order, exposing its corruption from within. But as the screams echoed down the corridors—not of enemies, but of younglings and masters running for their lives—the grim reality of what was happening outside began to bleed into the quiet dark.

A heavy, measured boot hit the grated metal floor outside her cell.

Barriss looked up, expecting a clone executioner, or perhaps death coming swift and unannounced. Instead, the silhouette stepping into the dim emergency lighting wore a Jedi tunic, but the familiar, warm aura of the chosen one was entirely absent. There was only a suffocating, crushing void of malice.

Anakin Skywalker stood before the energy field. His hood was thrown back. His eyes, burning with a searing, unnatural yellow-gold, locked onto hers with a hatred so profound it felt like a physical weight pressing down on her chest.

The energy field flickered and died. Master Skywalker had overridden the security codes.

Barriss scrambled back against the cold stone wall, her breath catching in her throat. She had faced combat before, but she had never looked into the face of a true monster. "Skywalker..." she choked out, her voice trembling despite her attempts to stay composed. "The Temple... what have you—"

Anakin didn't speak. He didn't offer a monologue or a grand proclamation of betrayal. He simply raised his hand, and the Force wrapped around Barriss’s throat like a vice of solid iron, hauling her violently off her feet.

She clawed desperately at her neck, her legs kicking uselessly in the air as she was dragged across the cell floor right up to him.

"You did this," Anakin whispered. His voice was a flat, dead rasp, devoid of any humanity, vibrating with a rage that had been festering for weeks and had finally boiled over into absolute slaughter. "Every piece of this... it traces back to you."

"I... I only wanted... to save..." Barriss gasped, her vision darkening at the edges as the pressure on her windpipe intensified. Spots danced in her eyes. The sheer kinetic force of his anger was suffocating her lungs before his blade even touched her.

"You broke her," Anakin snarled, his face inches from hers. The dark side radiated off him in waves, burning the air, turning the room into a furnace of pure malice. "You broke the only pure thing I had left. You drove her away. And now, while the galaxy burns in the fire I helped ignite, you sit here in a cage, breathing."

He slammed her against the concrete wall behind him with a sickening crunch. Pain flared through her spine, but the airless void in her throat drowned out the scream.

"You don't get to live," Anakin muttered, his free hand igniting his blue lightsaber—though the blade felt wrong, heavy with slaughter.

He didn't execute her cleanly. The cold, calculated cruelty of a quick death was too good. Instead, he drove the blade not through her heart, but straight through her shoulder, pinning her to the stone wall with a searing hiss of cauterized flesh and vaporized bone.

Barriss let out a raw, agonizing shriek that tore her vocal cords, her body convulsing in shock. The blinding agony washed over her in a white-hot wave, her senses frying under the assault of the plasma and the crushing grip of the dark side still constricting her chest.

Anakin leaned in closer, his golden eyes unblinking, watching the absolute terror and realization of mortality drain the color from her face.

"Consider this justice," he whispered coldly against her ear.

He wrenched the lightsaber upward, cutting through her upper torso and collarbone with brutal, casual efficiency, before deactivating the weapon and letting go of her with the Force.

Barriss crumpled instantly like a broken puppet, sliding down the blood-streaked stone wall to pool on the cold floor. Her chest rose in a shallow, agonizing shudder, blood pooling rapidly beneath her. She was barely conscious, hovering on the absolute brink of death, drowning in her own blood and the wreckage of a temple she thought she was saving.

Anakin turned his back on her without a backward glance, stepping over the threshold of the cell, leaving her to bleed out alone in the dark as the fires of the Jedi Temple consumed the world outside.

The heavy air of the deep subterranean tunnels beneath the Fire Nation capital was thick and suffocating, the unnatural twilight of the eclipse bleeding down through the vents from the surface.

Azula, stripped of her firebending, was backed up against the jagged, dark stone of the volcanic rock wall. Sokka was pinned over her, his bone-handled machete raised, his body shaking with a fury that went far beyond tactical urgency.

Instead of shouting the question, something inside him snapped. The exhaustion, the grief, the constant terror of losing everyone he loved—it all coalesced into a cold, venomous rage.

Sokka dropped the weapon, planted his knees firmly on either side of her hips, and drove both hands down, grabbing her by the collar of her royal fire nation robes. He hauled her upright, slamming her spine back into the hard volcanic basalt with a sharp thud.

Azula gasped, her eyes widening—not with fear of a blade, but with sudden, jarring disorientation. For the first time in her life, her hands didn't spark. She raised them instinctively to summon lightning or a burst of flame, and nothing happened. Just the dead, heavy heat of the tunnels and the pathetic trembling of her own fingertips.

"Where is she?" Sokka whispered. His voice wasn't a roar. It was low, raspy, and stripped of all reason.

Azula’s breath hitched. She tried to harden her glare, attempting to default to her usual royal menace, curling her lip into a sneer. "You pathetic, brainless peasant—"

Sokka slammed her shoulders back against the stone wall. Thud.

"I asked you a question," he muttered, his face inches from hers. His eyes were wide, bloodshot, and completely unhinged. "Do you think this is a game? Do you think because you wear fancy clothes and talk down to people that you're untouchable?"

Azula flinched. The absolute vacancy of her expression terrified her more than any threat of violence. This wasn't the proud, strategic warrior she was used to fighting. This was a cornered animal that had nothing left to lose.

"I don't know who—" she started, her voice cracking slightly before she caught herself.

"Liar," Sokka snarled, and before she could process the movement, he shoved her hard against the rock, his grip tightening like a vice around her collar.

The pressure cut off the breath in her throat. She froze, tasting a sudden metallic tang of adrenaline. No one had ever handled her this way. Not her father, not her teachers, not even Zuko in his most desperate moments. She was Azula. She was a prodigy, a master, a princess.

She stared up at him, her golden eyes dilated, fixed on him in sheer disbelief.

Sokka laughed—a harsh, jagged sound with no humor in it at all. He gripped her dark topknot, yanking her head back to force her to look straight into his eyes.

"Look at you," Sokka mocked, his voice dripping with venom as he leaned in close enough for her to feel his ragged breath. "Without your fire, what are you? Look at your hands, Princess. Go on. Make fire. Burn me. Do it."

Azula stared down at her own palms. They were just skin and bone. Trembling, pathetic flesh. The realization hit her like a physical blow—the utter, terrifying fragility of her own body when stripped of her element. Without bending, deep beneath the earth in the heart of the Fire Nation, she wasn't a goddess of war. She was just a frightened teenage girl, pinned to a cave wall by a boy with a boomerang and a broken heart.

A chill crawled up her spine, freezing the blood in her veins. The absolute contempt in Sokka's eyes wasn't fueled by duty to the Avatar; it was pure, unadulterated disgust for her.

"You're nothing," Sokka whispered, his grip tightening until her scalp burned. "You're a scared little girl playing monster because you're too weak to exist as a real person. If you hurt her... if she has so much as a scratch on her..."

He didn't finish the threat. He didn't need to. He shoved her head back into the rock one last time, letting go so abruptly that she slumped sideways against the stone floor, gasping for air, her fingers clawing uselessly at the dust.

Sokka retrieved his machete, his chest heaving, and turned his back on her without another word, running off deeper into the dark subterranean tunnels to find Suki.

Azula remained on the ground, curled slightly, her arms wrapped around herself against the chill of the unlit cavern. For a long, terrifying moment, the fire princess couldn't move, couldn't breathe, and couldn't stop shaking.

While most climate action focuses strictly on mitigation and reducing emissions to prevent global warming, we are failing to demand contingency plans for severe, high-impact tail-risks like an AMOC (Atlantic Meridional Overturning Circulation) shutdown. If the Atlantic current collapses, Northern Europe faces a brutal, localized deep-freeze that our current infrastructure is completely unequipped to handle.

We cannot afford to treat this as an unthinkable "black swan" that gets ignored by policy-makers. To build true climate resilience, we need to pressure European institutions and national governments to include systemic tipping-point scenarios in their emergency preparedness frameworks.

Here is a concrete action we can take right now:

1. Reach out to your local Members of the European Parliament (MEPs) or national climate committees, asking specifically whether their climate risk assessments model for systemic cooling threats like an AMOC collapse.
2. Share educational resources locally to shift the narrative from only preparing for heatwaves to also preparing for extreme climate volatility and system shifts.

How are you incorporating systemic resilience and preparedness into your local climate activism? Let’s organize and push our leaders to look at the full picture.

I am increasingly concerned about the scientific warnings surrounding the potential tipping point of the Atlantic Meridional Overturning Circulation (AMOC) and what a shutdown would mean for Europe—specifically a severe, localized cooling and a drastic drop in winter temperatures across Northern and Western Europe.

While much of the human rights and climate discourse focuses on extreme heatwaves, rising sea levels, and displacement in the Global South, a sudden or permanent shift to an arktisk deep-freeze in the North would pose massive, unprecedented challenges to basic human rights: the right to housing, health, continuous energy, and food security for millions of citizens who live in infrastructure built for a temperate climate.

When governments and international frameworks fail to structurally prepare for low-probability, high-impact systemic shifts like this, it becomes a failure to protect fundamental human rights. How should human rights advocates begin framing catastrophic climate tipping points that contradict the standard "global warming" narrative?