I was the one who found Jake dead, Tucked in the dark corner of the parking garage in his idling pest control truck that vibrated minutely.
The parking garage always had a humming from stainless metal fans to circulate the humid and hot Virginia air. Walking closer to the truck I saw his chemical box in the bed of the truck was open with the top flap sticking straight up . I thought nothing weird about the open box because it's not just us in the pest control company that lives there and from time to time we steal from other trucks. For the summer the company buys out dozens of rooms for the employees to stay. Most employees are door-to-door salesmen who make a living selling pest control as a same day service. Where Jake and I, with a few others, come into play is after the sale. The ones who actually spray your house, the ones who interact with the customers and bring them down to reality after the salesmen fluff our feathers, or are they fluffing their own? We are the ones who click the rap trap mouths in place, with black jagged teeth…waiting, with the delicious neon blue food for the rats to nibble on and share with their newborns. We had 7 other trucks in the parking garage and from time to time chem went missing. Sometimes us technicians didn't want to wake up early and drive 30 minutes to the office to pick up materials, truckers were closer, much closer. I'd be lying to you if I didn't steal a de-weber now and then off a truck, but I always made no trace of the thievery. I can't speak for everyone though. So when that lid was pointing up to the rusty pipes and concrete ceiling above, I wasn't surprised, hell I might have had a smirk on my face.
With the swing of my arm I slapped the box closed, a whiff of chemicals spewed out and hit my nose which gave me a feeling of a stinging sneeze that never comes. I gave the window a knock to see if he would turn around.. silence. I got closer to see if he was glued to his phone and didn't hear me or didn’t bother looking. I put my hands up on the window and smushed my eyebrows against my index fingers to get a better look. I saw the seat was fully reclined back, him laying there…still as a morning lake. I knocked on the smaller back half door. Tap tap TAP. No movement. It was too dark to see so I dug my hand in my pocket to get my phone light out and put it flush to the back oval airplane-shaped window. That's when I saw this face—— god his face—— skin a purplish hue and pulled taught by swelling, eyes adrift and red which were bulging out like they wanted to leave, jaw open with dark fluid sitting in his mouth, escaping on the sides. The streaks of the dark liquid rolled down his purple face, curving down the back of his neck, and dribbling down the strands of hair meeting the headrest. My eyelids opened so wide they touched my eyebrows. His fingers curled limply around a chemical bottle, cap off and the liquid color matching that of the pool in his mouth…
“Jake” I whispered, my voice felt like it was stolen from me, my skin tingling like an unknown channel on tv as heat takes over… I begin to fall, the last thing I notice are my fingers streaking down the window. I passed out.
4 months pass
I'm moving out of the building where it happened. I’ve wanted to get out of this building since it happened but didn’t have the financial backing. Now I plan to stay in Virginia for the winter and move in with roommates from the pest control company. The salesmen call this time their “off-season” due to them all leaving and going back home, most to Vegas. My other two roommates run the regular technician routes which consist of stopping at 14-15 designated houses a day, spraying chemicals and setting traps to take care of the contracts those grimy salesmen sell.
I used to share a room with Jake. All of his things were taken out either by investigators or the maid service. The other roommates in the building told me to combine the abandoned twin bed with mine but I never touched it, I couldn't.
I’m making this entry due to finding something. Something I believe was very close to Jake. The last day of moving I had everything packed but my mattress and box spring. While moving my mattress lazily with the sheet still on I lost grip and it hit his mattress sliding it off the box spring and hitting the wall. I let go of my mattress automatically and wanted to fix his bed…. Preserve it. I wrapped my hands around his mattress when a wave of dizziness veiled over me. My hands became clammy and I didn't want to touch his mattress anymore, like a kid that doesn't want to touch an old person. I had to put it back! If I didn't it would haunt me forever my mind yelled at me.
Just as I forced myself to slide the mattress back, my middle knuckle dropped into a slight groove, and I stopped in place. I pushed the mattress to the right and traced where my knuckle had been and found a slit in the box spring. I hesitated, staring at the unnatural slash in the cloth, Thinking about when Jake and I would make fun of our manager which always had a bone to pick with Jake ever since the first day they met. The new manager two years younger than us yelling at Jake to tuck his shirt in while his own untucked, covered his belt and belly.
A smile slowly disappeared from my face as I snapped back to life with my whole forearm now submerged in the slit of the box spring…. searching. My fingers met and clutched a ice cold object that resembled a book. I pulled My arm out of the box spring like pulling a calf out of its mother, now half expecting to see red viscous liquid and tiny wet legs, my eyes shut slowly like elevator doors closing from the thought.
But My hand appeared dry and my fingers clenched around a book of sorts. The outside of the book was void of color, almost like it absorbed it instead. I sat down on my thrown mattress and the empty apartment surrounded me. I flipped to the first page as the spine creaked at me, I saw Jake's name and it clicked in me that this wasn't a book. It was Jake's notebook! I flipped page after page reading Jacob’s writings about days of killing bugs and missing home till I got to the page. Sometimes I wish I wasn't lazy, I could have taken the sheet off the bed, this would have never happened, and I would have never found the notebook. The apartment seemed to be silently closing in on me now like I was in the digestive tract of some huge monster. God the page—— in big dark letters he had written: “THE LADY IN THE BASEMENT IS THE REASON WHY I AM GONE.” I was stuck reading the words again and again thinking I was seeing things. My heart was pumping so vigorously I could hear it agitate the fabric of my shirt little by little with each beat. There was a dark arrow so dark that seemed to suck in light and pointed toward the right of the page wanting someone to flip it or something to flip it, so I did. For the next pages, he wrote why…. And I clinging to every word …began to read.

I'm starting a Painting Contractor Business and looking to build a website for it.
I have used wordpress before to build a basic static website, but I'm not too savvy with it. However, I'll learn what is important to build the website I want. The reason is that I'm trying to save money where I can, so please tell me if I can build the website with these features myself. My goal is to build the website within 1 week.
Features Needed in Website:

6 page website.
I want the website to detect the user's location when they open the website and automatically select it from the drop-down menu of cities.
Some basic animation for better aesthetics (blinking paint blob, or pulsing colored circles).
Lead Capture Form with 1 question at a time. (Press next multiple times until submit option comes)
Upon submitting, lead is entered in a Google sheet automatically, and also sent via email to me.

FOR THESE FEATURES, PLEASE RECOMMEND A THEME TO START WITH AND A THEME BUILDER that I should use (for features like basic animation, and location detection).

Timestamp
Elbit Gen 3 WP PVS 14
Elbit Gen 3 Auto Gated Manual Gain w/ data sheet
Don’t have enough land to be gooning around. Used for about 2-3 hours at my local trail then has been put away since I upgraded to Duals
SNR 25.9 - FOM 1761.2 - RES 68 - HALO .97 comes with data sheet
The pictures with the red circle are the ones with the IR laser
Tube Pics
IR laser
Helmet Set Up
Can get over more pictures upon request
Can Facetime or if in GA we can meet up somewhere within a reasonable distance from Atlanta, can drive some towards you
Package 1 alone with original stuff $2200 - OBO PVS14 Data sheet and manual with cleaning wipes Sac Lens Suction cup Lanyard string Carry bag Skull crusher Jarm plus front and back uv lens covers
Package 2 - everything in pack 1 plus $2500 - OBO Chines ballistic 3a helmet with Team Wendy retention system Helmet cover IR American Flag Patch on the back bungee retention Iris adjuster with lense cover and pinch cap Extra purple and smoke color lenses Walker slim muff with walkie talkie Peltor mounts Chem light sticks will come with 5 Ir blinker indicator on the top Counter weight pouch in the back with batteries Chinese Wilcox mount and J arm Ir laser with white light for rifle pic mounting or mlok

I have some questions about RPG design. I am no neophyte, indeed it is on account of my continuing passion for RPG theory and design that I keep asking questions trying to improve my understanding. In terms of my history and experience with ttrpgs, I have both played and GMed them since the DnD Red Box of 1981.
Over the ensuing decades I have collected, played, GMed, and homebrewed dozens and dozens of systems, including DnD, Traveller, the original Mage and Vampire from White Wolf, TORG, Champions, Whispering Vault, Capes, Universalis, Primetime Adventures, ICE, Ars Magica, In Nomine, Kult, the Primal Order, Immortal: The Invisible War, Amber Diceless, Everway, Nobilis, Marvel Universe, City of Mist, and Marvel Multiverse to name a few.
I’ve spent my time at The Forge, though never a part of the “in crowd” there. I’ve written and published my own RPG Dream Factory (at drivethrurpg). And I have studied the art and craft of storytelling through RPGs, books, and television and film for almost half a century.
So this isn’t my first rodeo.
However, one of the things I love about RPG design is that there is always more to learn, always more evolution to embrace.
Most recently, I have recently become aware of a kind of gaming called Free Kriegsspiel Revolution, which for those who do not know what that is, is explained well here:
https://www.reddit.com/rpg/comments/lvcjqz/a\_brief\_introduction\_to\_the\_emerging\_fkr\_free/
If I understand it correctly, FKR gaming is the kind I have been embracing all along. For example, when I set out to design my own top to bottom RPG Dream Factor, I gave myself the design goal of making a game system that stayed out of the way when not needed and intruded on the game as little as possible.
Allow me to describe the core mechanics of my game a bit more in detail, as I think this relates directly to the upcoming questions I will be asking.
Dream Factory RPG, or DF for short, uses six-sided dice. Character sheets are supremely simple. On the character sheet is a list of four Traits. Think of Traits not like skills, but like broader descriptors of what we love about watching the character. So you could have traits like “doesn’t miss much” , “chosen one of Mystra”, “Bubbly and warm personality”, “sinews of steel”, or “Stormbringer, sword of swords”.
So the GM and the players engage in free narration a good portion of the time. However, from time to time an Outcome Check (OC) will have to be made when the result of a player action is in doubt.
For example, a player is trying to lift a heavy item into position before some bad guys can beat down the door. The GM has to decide is this act trivial to accomplish, with no roll required, or perhaps impossible, with no roll allowed. If it is neither then the GM brings the games mechanics into play:
Both the GM and each of the players start with two dice (again, only d6’s are used).
If the GM possess any Edge dice, they can choose to add any amount of them to their dice group.
Then the players get to invoke their applicable Traits, assuming the GM permits. “Bubbly personality” probably would not be approved for invoking to lift a heavy box, but “sinews of steel” would be available to be invoked. For every approved invoked Trait, the player gets another d6 added to their own pile.
The GM then gets the opportunity to “raise the stakes” by committing more Edge dice, if the GM has more Edge dice available and wants to. If he does, the players have another opportunity to invoke more Traits, if they have more relevant ones that have not yet been tapped. Back and forth, until neither side wants to add any more resources – or has run out of any to add.
Then everyone rolls. Typically, it’s all or nothing, meaning that it does not matter how much you succeed or fail by, just whether you succeed or fail. Any players beaten by the GM’s get the outcome of their actions chosen and narrated by the GM. Any players that beat the GM get to narrate the success of their actions. (Note: while narrating their successes, no player can author, meaning that they can narrate successfully picking a lock, but only the GM can tell them what was inside.)
Finally, any players that beat the GM have to “burn” the Traits they used to accomplish it. If the GM beat any players, though, he has to give all the Edge dice he used to the players he beat (as evenly divided as possible), and the players that did fail not only get these Edge dice, but their Traits stay fresh and unburnt as they did not succeed.
And while players never get to use the Edge dice they get to roll, by voluntarily handing back the Edge dice to the GM the player gets to reset two of their burnt Traits to fresh (GM’s choice as to which two).
With the Outcome Check over, the mechanics are shelved and the group goes back to Free Narration.
Dream Factory has a bit more going on than just that – it has Karma points used as hero points to add dice, it has genre-incentivizing rules to make sure the game “feel” is what is desired, from grim and gritty to four-color to anime, or whatever else you like, and more. But that’s the basic idea: going back and forth between free narration and Outcome Checks, with the winners of Outcome Checks probably losing resources through gaining their desired outcomes, and the losers of the Check likely gaining resources to help win the next one. This is a self-balancing loop that keeps the power of deciding outcomes moving back and forth between the GM and the players.
Another important note: one of the core ideas of the Dream Factory game is that the way the game world works isn’t to be mechanized by RPG rule sets, but instead to be governed by the internal logic of the fiction.
Take Forgotten Realms from DnD for example. Dream Factory can permit exactly the same adventures in the same game world as DnD if desired, with sorcerers that learn spells and cast them using spell points that return on short and long rests, because the way magic works in DnD is considered in Dream Factory to be a WORLD truth, not a GAME one.
You can have for example, a DF game in a modern-day world with complex rules on how ESP powers work that have to be followed by the characters that have these powers – but again, because this is how the WORLD works, not how the GAME does.
Similarly, you can build the character of Superman in DF with Traits that have nothing to do with his powers, Traits like “Loves Lois Lane”, “Big Blue Boy Scout”, “Symbol of Good” and “Always Does the Right Thing”. The player playing this character would still be able to access and use all of Superman’s powers just as Supe would – they simply would only be able to leverage *these* Traits when seeking big numbers when trying to win Outcome Checks. But not everything requires an Outcome Check – Superman would never even have to roll to lift the heavy box in the previous example.
So to me, mechanics that stay out of the way until and unless needed is very FKR. As is the design philosophy that the way powers and abilities work in a game world is a truth about the setting, not the game mechanics. In other words, Dream Factory is a game in which game mechanics and world mechanics are not at all the same thing.
Sometimes I hear the term “fiction-first”, and I am unsure what this refers to. One explanation I found said:
In a fiction first game, you play the game primarily as a conversation, and mechanics inflect into that conversation when required by the action in the fiction and the definitions of the rules.
In a mechanics first game, you play the game primarily as a sequence of mechanical actions and build the story out of the sum of their results.
It seems to me that any FKR game would thus have to be a subset of the fiction-first group of games. My first question is, does this seem an accurate understanding?
Secondly, the matter of Powered by the Apocalypse (PBtA) and other games of that “ilk”.
I have loathed each of the PBtA games I have tried. They feel very “gamey” to me, like they are trying to gamify the craft of storytelling by using this concept of artificial “moves” and making “moves” the standard way of playing the game. It feels to me very much the opposite of fiction-first and FKR. Some PBtA games like Masks even mechanize the emotional state a character is in as a result of a roll.
Metaphorically, imagine a painter creating a painting. He shows his students all the nuances of his craft, how to mix colors, the effect of different choices when applying brush to canvas, all his skill and craftsmanship is evident.
Then someone watches him and invents paint-by-number painting system so that all that crafty stuff can be mechanized instead of mastered.
That’s how Powered by the Apocalypse feels to me – a substitute for masterclass storytelling that does the opposite, but purports to give you a “story” at the end – just like paint by numbers gives you a “painting”.
I am likely wording it badly, but do any of you see what I see in PBtA? How in mechanizing storytelling itself, it is the opposite of fiction-first?
Or is this already an obvious and known truth about games like PBtA and I am just saying something that everyone already knows?
Thanks.

Timestamp
LINK TO PM
Hello, the following items are for sale/trade.
Shipping worldwide with tracking. Estimates for keysets/keyboards:

Europe and UK: 15-20/25-30USD
Anywhere else: 25-35/35-75USD

Items I am looking for:

DSA Deep Space blanks/spacebars (from the OG run only)
HWS Earls (Singles Night "A Green", Silver Cold Cast, multishots; wishlist)
Lin Dolinger 2017 (fancy colors: pink, blue/grey)
Lin Dolphin OG (from ~2014)
Lin Dolphin V2 (with alu weight; two-tone with fancy colors and WKL preferred)
Lin Dolphin V3 (WKL only, red bottom or full green)
Lin EM7 OG (from ~2014)
Lin EM7 V2 (with alu weight; two-tone preferred)
OG red alu plate for Lin Dolphin V2 SE
Realforce 87U 10th Anniversary (stock)
Realforce R2 TKL 10th Anniversary (stock)
TX-1800 V1

Please comment here when messaging (NO Reddit chat; regular PMs only). Click here to write me a PM.
Lin Whale 75 F13 alu plate and PCB

Condition: new, unused
50USD + shipping for both

TX-84/87 V1 brushed brass plate

Condition: new, unused; the coating looks/feels uneven on the backside
25USD + shipping

Keycult No.1 65
Album

Rev. 0 from the January 2019 sale; number 8 out of 15
Black case with silver aluminum mid-piece, silver aluminum full plate, Wilba solderable PCB with daugtherboard and JST cable, screws and bumpons
Extra parts: original Wilba solderable PCB, Wilba Graphite hotswap PCB with daughterboard and JST cable, polycarbonate partial plate, white POM full plate
Comes in the original packaging with original accessories
Condition: new, unused; apart from a faint darker line on the top piece noticeable under bright light, everything looks flawless
Trades for OG Dolphin/EM7

LZ CLS
Album

Gray WKL kit (top, bottom, brushed stainless steel weight, brushed stainless steel plate, Leeku TX87 PCB with RGB underglow, acrylic diffuser, screws and bumpons)
Extra Leeku TX87 PCB with RGB underglow and polished brass plate (fixed ANSI layout)
Extra Hineybush h87a PCB with RGB underglow and brushed stainless steel Alps plate (AT101 layout)
Comes in a storage case with two microfiber clothes
Condition: new, unbuilt with some imperfections on the case pictured here (slight top/bottom color mismatch and tiny dent at the seam, anodization banding all around the top piece as well as a couple faint scratches, machining marks/nicks on the weight)
Trades for OG Dolphin/EM7

LZ MP
Album

Silver WKL kit (top, bottom, polished brass plate, brass internal weight, brass side weights, Leeku TX87 PCB, screws, numbered badge and bumpons)
Number 06/50
Extra silver aluminum plate (with ISO support)
The brass plate has a fixed layout (WKL ANSI with support for stepped and regular CapsLock only)
Comes in a storage case with microfiber cloth
Condition: new, unbuilt with minor cosmetic imperfections shown here
Trades for OG Dolphin/EM7

Merisi.Works Dodici
Album

Baby blue kit (top, bottom, brushed stainless steel weight, CF plate, PCB, screws and bumpons)
Extra black aluminum plate
Extra PCB
Polycarbonate wrist rest
Comes in a storage case with microfiber cloth
Condition: new, unbuilt; everything flawless except for those speckles on the weight's chamfered edge
Trades for OG Dolphin/EM7

Syryan Mont Cervin

Tented Alice-style ergo keyboard with integrated wrist rest and variable angle; center bar as well as left and right housings attach to the base using magnets
Full black kit (black base, black angled plate, black left/right housings, black center bar, clear frosted PC and black aluminum switch plates, hotswap PCB, foam sheets, leather left/right wrist pads, various small parts)
Comes with a hard foam-padded carrying case
Extra parts: gray center bar, gray left/right housings with gray aluminum switch plate, two hotswap PCBs, CF switch plate, CF left/right wrist pads
Condition: one PCB and PC switch plate assembled and used for a few weeks, the rest is unused; tiny scratch on the gray housing and black base
Trades for OG Dolphin/EM7

TGR 910 RE
Album

Polycarbonate case, sandblasted brass weight and plate, solderable PCB, screws and bumpons
Extra solderable PCB
Condition: new, unused; all parts are original; the case has few shiny areas/faint scuffs noticeable from a specific angle pictured here
Trades for OG Dolphin/EM7

LZ PhysiX red
Album

Red kit (top, bottom, stainless steel weight plate, CF switch plate, PCB, grommets/screws/bumpons)
White or black acrylic wrist rest
Comes in a storage case with microfiber cloth
Bundle of spare PCB and black or silver aluminum switch plate available for 90USD
In person, the case is not a shiny red and looks like a dark matte red
Condition: new, unbuilt; no blemishes on the case except for a couple faint scratches/marks on the underside; all PCBs have been tested
400USD + shipping

TX-75 V1
Album

Silver top case with original one-off TX polycarbonate bottom
Built with 54g filmed vintage Cherry MX Black switches and GMK/Cherry stabilizers on a polished brass plate
Original Leeku TX75 PCB with RGB underglow; SIP sockets with white LEDs are installed in switches; red, green and blue indidcator LEDs are installed; all keys register and lighting works properly
Spare Leeku TX75 PCB with RGB underglow available for an extra 50USD (not selling separately from this board)
Comes in a TX bag
Condition: used as a daily driver for a while; the top and bottom pieces show a few scuffs and scratches pictured here while the weight has some very faint hairline scratches; the spacebar sounds rattly and would likely benefit from some tuning again
300USD + shipping

TX-84 V1
Album

Silver WKL kit (top, bottom, brushed stainless weight, silver aluminum plate, PCB, small parts)
One extra brushed brass plate
One extra PCB
Condition: new, unused; two tiny dings on chamfered edges and smudge on the backside pictured here
300USD + shipping

TX-1800 V2
Album

Titanium grey kit with brushed stainless steel weight; acrylic and coated stainless steel spacers
Built by Kin25 (TX maker) with filmed/lubed 64g vintage Cherry MX Black switches and GMK/Cherry stabilizers on a brushed stainless steel ANSI plate; the spacebar has a 78g Cherry MX Grey switch
Leeku MX1800 PCB with RGB underglow; SIP sockets with white LEDs installed in switches, warm white indicator LEDs without SIP sockets; all keys register and lighting works properly
Comes in a large TX bag
Condition: slightly used years ago; the case has two minor flaws and there are a few tiny scratches on the weight (pictures here)
Trades for a TX-1800 V1 or 575USD + shipping

GMK 80002

BL00 base set and Addition kit
Condition: new, sealed
100USD + shipping

GMK Awaken

Mainframe base kit 100USD + shipping
Neo-Tokyo base kit 100USD + shipping
Condition: new, sealed

GMK Camping R3

Base kit, novelties and spacebars
Classic base kit or Burgundy base kit available
Condition: new, sealed
200USD + shipping

GMK Cobalt

Base kit
Condition: new, sealed
125USD + shipping

GMK Cubed

Base kit, novelties, accents and spacebars
Condition: new, sealed
265USD + shipping

GMK Dracula R1

Base kit 165USD
Error kit (without F13) 55USD
Condition: new, sealed

GMK DMG R3

Base, novelties, spacebars, and addition kits
Condition: new, sealed
225USD + shipping

GMK Dots R2

Light base kit
Dark base kit
Condition: new, sealed
100USD each + shipping

GMK Fleuriste

Base kit
Condition: new, sealed
125USD + shipping

GMK Olive R2

Dark base set and spacebars
Condition: new, sealed
150USD + shipping

GMK Prepress

Base kit
Condition: new, sealed
150USD + shipping

GMK Royal Cadet

Base and Symbols kits
Condition: new, sealed
175USD + shipping

GMK Space Cadet R2

Base kit
Condition: new, sealed
125USD + shipping

GMK Striker R2

Base set, spacebars and Salvun keycap
Condition: new, sealed
170USD + shipping

GMK Sumi

Spacebars and extension/40s
Condition: new, sealed
35USD each + shipping

SA Handarbeit

Base, numpad and spacebars
Condition: new, unused
165USD + shipping

Hammer CRP R2 Desko

Kits: Desko base, Numpad, WKL, R5, HHKB mods
Condition: new, unused; being from early CRP rounds, a few keycaps may have slightly crooked stems
65USD + shipping

Deskmats
Album
New, unused
15USD each + shipping

RAMA Canvas (small)
GMK Avanguardia
GMK Modern Dolch 2
GMK Red Devils

HIBI/RAMA/Salvun keycaps
New, unused
Prices include worldwide shipping

GMK 80082 (blue): 40USD
GMK 80082 (pink): 40USD
GMK Striker R2: 40USD
GMK Awaken: 50USD
GMK Dots R2 (colorful): 50USD
GMK Fleuriste: 50USD
Keycult (brass with white infill): 65USD
Wave Liquid Hydro (stainless steel): 65USD

Artisans
Timestamp
Prices include worldwide shipping

Fraktal Kaps Aweigh! (Breakfast at Tiffany's, Ectoplasm, Henne-SEA, Penny for your thoughts): 30USD each
Deathcaps x HWS Revthulhus (Singles Night: AE green, Analog Dreams pink/yellow, A Violet, Serika, Shoko): 30USD each
HWS Earl Esc (Single Minded BrAF5C37-MT, Singles Night: Nautilus yellow/blue, Cold Cast aluminum): 30USD each
HWS Earl Esc (Exam Glove Love): 50USD
HWS Earl Esc (2019 Commemorative): 50USD
HWS Earl Esc (multishot): April Fooearls 75USD, Prismearl 75USD, Super Sticky Coprophagy 100USD, Labra Do Right 125USD, Princess Treat 125USD, Princess Trick 125USD
HWS Popsi Skull (Why Sobby?): 100USD
HWS Popsi Skull (Taro): 125USD
Nightcaps Eggface V2 (Minted Mantid): 90USD
Vice Caps Dress: Millie 65USD, Nami 80USD

Looking for HWS Earls (wishlist): some Singles Night (A Green, Silver Cold Cast) and specific multishots
LINK TO PM

I'm looking for someone of similar health standards, life goals, and attractiveness,18+. Someone with at least one talent, laid back, down to Earth, and can laugh at the world in its absurdity. A kind soul with understanding, that is also sexual in nature but conservative with it in the right areas (Lady on the streets, freak in the sheets if you will 😏)
Let me try and paint a picture.
Me- I'm more traditional, and masculine in my beliefs. I'm 6ft tall, lean and 100% clean with great genes, and Caucasian. My eyes are a dark green (one of the rarest colors), with brown hair, a nice natural smile, and a good jaw. I'm classically handsome, appear much younger than I am (still get carded 👌), look great in a suit, and am perfectly endowed (which of course matters, let's not pretend).
Hobbies/Talents- love cooking/baking, fine dining, music-SynthWave, Classical, Metal, Emo (ex musician), some gaming, some anime, comedy, sarcasm, exploring my new home town, healthy living/eating, learning/growing, the outdoors, bike riding, practicing buddhism, and making people smile. And TBH I'm also quite sexual and love being intimate and flirty, so don't hold that against me. It's only natural.
I'm educated with a great career, and recently just moved to the Midwest. Loving all the snow and actual weather. So far the food has been great too.
Open to all women from anywhere and not opposed to long distance. If you prefer white guys even better 😁. Bottom line, If you're cool and we have stuff in common I'll chat with you.

“Wake the fuck up, man.”
Haruki Fujita slipped out of a hallucination. The hallucination was mindless. It featured a name moments before something killed him, extraterrestrial and horrible from head to toe. Slimy and predatory. The most of it cybernetic. He was dying, with blood gushing out of his neck, but that wasn’t what killed him, at least not immediately, because his intestines were pulled out of his stomach, and that was what killed him.
He watched the blue solar panel wing curve outward from the steel hull of the International Space Station, and he frowned bitterly. From the sensation of death, Haruki Fujita had a sickening gut feeling.
“Stefan Bossi!” he cried out, alarmed.
The name lingered in his mind. He remembered it from his hallucination. He idly watched one of his gloves floating across the room and stopped in front of his computer screen. No reason was known to him why he remembered that name; he remembered nothing more. There was a brief rush—he had time to think about programming languages and decoding radio frequencies, though none of the government organizations he hacked into proved extraterrestrial in origin, but Haruki was convinced by the bizarre nature of the sounds. He didn’t really care about the scientists at SETI, many doctors, and the best professors in the world who regarded them as a hoax. And those who didn’t view the evolution of Earth from an intergalactic perspective that was terraformed over billions of years by otherworldly entities.
“Stefan Bossi!” he said again, grabbing the floating glove with his cold hand and looked at it, trying to decide the significance of the name from his hallucination. Instantly he felt his fingers were freezing from the cold. As Haruki watched the storage bay where he was hiding, his fingers slipped into the glove and strapped the Velcro. “Stefan Bossi! Stefan Bossi!” It seemed to be all he could remember.
Even trapped in the confusing vise of the illusion, Haruki felt an intense fear—this was what an extraterrestrial predator looked like while it slaughtered him. It was a look that filled him with horror.
Another radio frequency echoed from his computer, this one echoing like the mating call of a dolphin, and that excited him. With another “Stefan Bossi!” he stared out of the window and watched the sun disappear behind the Earth, he lost focus; and although it was only an hour after bedtime—another exciting six hours while everyone was deep asleep—the red glow of the computer screen had so hindered his thoughts that he was distracted while staring. And he slipped back into that mindless hallucination.
When Haruki managed to wake up, he realized it was hours later, in the bosom of the night. He glimpsed over the UPS batteries and saw a loose terminal that looked like a collection of fireflies floating in the antigravity of space.
After a while, he hovered upright and spoke.
“Stefan Bossi!”
Incredibly, he did not know why.
Haruki swallowed and looked at the wall, thinking: I’m going to die.
For a moment his mind seemed to separate from his physical body—it was not fear, or angst; it was terror. He was reminded by the physical sense of nausea as he swallowed the bitter taste in his mouth, and it occurred to him that he had just experienced a completely new level of fear.

The first argument about faith in the Fujita household—the first one Haruki got a hiding for, at least—happened on an Easter weekend in April. It was a big argument; even the greatest spanking couldn’t change his mind. Only his stepbrother shared his sentiment; Nic Chagall was in the bathroom brushing his teeth and listening to his sulking. This was fortunate because, in those days, there was no way to get ungrounded by a Japanese father.
The circumstances that, slipping out of a deep trance at night onboard the ISS, Haruki had spoken aloud a name that he had no memory of. And it hardly aroused enough curiosity to investigate the phenomenon.
Weird he thought, and got a little shiver; as if to confirm the opinion that the vision was indeed supernatural, he slipped into a trancelike daze. He realized with blank, distant eyes that for the first time the hallucination was no longer mindless.
Now he was walking onboard an abandoned spaceship pondering why the microgravity did not affect his arms and legs; he became aware that he was being watched from the shadows of the spaceship.
Haruki looked around quickly and saw a strange light with a red glow. He would have closed his eyes, but it fascinated him, and now it felt as if he had no idea where to go or why he was there; he did not know. Everything seemed so natural and real, as is the case with hallucinations. The revelation of being onboard an alien ship stopped bothering him, and the questions faded.
He screamed very loudly—the light must have done something to him because he could not remember being able to hear himself, and his lips didn’t twitch.
Soon, he came to a parting of ways; he saw a staircase leading to the lower deck, which had the appearance, in fact, of having long been abandoned. He sensed it led to something evil, yet he went down without hesitation, urged by some unstoppable force. He swallowed and descended the staircase, now convinced that the spaceship was haunted by invisible existences that he could not picture in his mind.
“What?” From behind the giant steel columns on his lefthand side, he heard broken and incoherent echoes of a radio frequency that he somewhat recognized. It sounded to him like fragmentary utterances of an evil conspiracy against his body and mind.
He swallowed again, holding onto the handrailing to steady himself. Haruki pointed at something lurking in the darkness, now believing it was watching him—an apparition so utterly intergalactic that he felt a pause in his breathing and a chill in his bones.
But for a long time, nothing came. He wanted to know why the haunted spaceship through which he journeyed was lit with a red glimmer having no point of origin. It appeared as if the mysterious light didn’t cast a shadow, and he thought about its neon color. Everything seemed a little brighter now, and he stood rooted with that cold feeling squeezing his lungs that reminded him of the alien presence.
A shallow pool in a bent depression met his eyes with a sloppy mess. He tumbled forward and plunged with his gloves into it and then looked at the thick slime of juices and placenta on his fingers with a different kind of horror.
Slime, he then observed, was around him everywhere. The walls towering grimly on either side revealed it in blots and splashes on the big, rusted panels. Bundles of sloppy racks that stretched over the walkways were hoarded with conductor cables and splattered as with placenta—glowing red. Robbing the place of its significance covered in heaps of crimson, slime dangling like slurry with its coagulations.
Sweat ran down his forehead and burned his eyes. He tasted a mixture of salt and minerals in his mouth. The shivering would not stop. Fear was like the ultimate curse. He thought: There is a point where the physical symptom of fear becomes unbearable: I have passed that point already.
It felt as if everything was in compensation for some crime that he could not remember. He believed he was a person of integrity; if he had murdered someone he would have remembered it, and a little introspection would have revealed the person he had supposedly harmed. The discovery of the menaces and mysteries of his surroundings was an added horror, tracing his steps backward in his mind.
And just how vainly could he reproduce the moment of his wrongdoing, here standing knee-deep in the slime? But suddenly the memories flashed tumultuously into his brain, picture after picture, only causing confusion and obscurity, and in no picture could he catch a glimpse of what he had done wrong.
But just because it hadn’t been remembered didn’t mean it didn’t happen. This failure to conceive only heightened his terror; he felt like a failure who had lost something in the dark without knowing what.
He grabbed his knees, shuddering,
(think of a way to kill yourself, think of a way to make it stop)
and sank his gloves into his spacesuit as hard as he could. He looked down, weak and flimsy knees rattling like a dog, tongue stuck into his cheek, and his posture heavily slanted with baleful character. It felt as if everything in sight conspired against his peace; from overhead and all around came the audible and startling echoes: the growl of a creature so obviously from outer space—that he could take it no more, and with a great effort to break the curse that bound his arms and legs to procrastination, he shouted from the depths of his lungs.
“Reveal yourself!”
His voice echoed with a hollow clang, it went stuttering and stammering, but of course he could not know what evils might lurk on the ship. He would only assume that, because his voice broke and echoed into an infinite multitude of unfamiliar sounds, the ship must have been large enough to have traveled from another galaxy or dimension.
I will not go down without a fight. There may be frequencies that are malignant and haunting this accursed ship. I shall decipher them and blot them down. The monster shall forget about my wrongs, the suffering that I endure—I, a worthless astronaut, a medic, and a computer programmer!
Haruki removed a flashbeam from his spacesuit; it felt warm when he switched it on. He pointed the beam at the wall and heard intimidating radio frequencies echoing against the steel.
Why, yes, I shall take off my glove—dip it into a heap of slime and write against the wall.
He had hardly touched the surface of the steel with his finger when a wild, evil reverberation of growling broke out at a considerable distance behind him, and growing ever louder, seemed approaching ever nearer. It was a soulless, heartless, and unpleasant growl, like that of a predator terrorizing its prey. It was a growl which culminated in an unearthly roar close at hand, then died away by slow gradations. Maybe the accursed being that uttered it had retreated over the shimmer back to the dimension where it had come from. But maybe this was not the case—it might still be nearby and ready to attack at any moment. Fuck knows he spent a long time waiting for something to happen.
You should be moving, Fujita.
Maybe walking, maybe running. Either way it was better than just standing there and doing nothing.
A strange sensation began to take possession of his body and his mind. He could not have said which, if any, of his senses were affected; he experienced it as a hunch—an unconscious mental awareness of some extraterrestrial presence—some alien malevolence different in kind from the visible existences that glitched around him, and superior to humans in power. He knew that it had uttered that hideous growl. And now it felt as if it was approaching him; from what direction he had no idea—dared not speculate.
Haruki closed his eyes and stared at the back of his eyelids. All his former fears had combined or amalgamated into a gigantic terror that now held him in thrall. Apart from that, he had but one mission: to convert the frequency stuck in his head into code, echoing the haunted spaceship, before the extraterrestrial monster blessed him with eternal silence. And now he lifted his slimy finger, idly thinking of computer codes such as Java, C++, and R . . .
Should I write it down?
Should I write at all?
A soft, freaky sound escaped his throat. The face of the astronaut was sickly terrified, the pale face now augmented with a plan of action.
His body started to move rapidly, finger oozing slime without renewal, arm waving in the thin air like a graffiti artist. Two minutes later, at the last part of the script, his arm fell to his side, glove to the air. He was powerless and could not move or cry out; he found himself staring at a wall of illegibly written script, the code representative of the ultimate frequency haunting this spaceship. At that moment Haruki almost believed it: that he was earmarked for death.
He had never been so scared in his life.
The symbols were glowing against the reddened wall written at an angle, the slime, and the acrid smell of the place. He clamped his teeth against each other and tried to focus his mind on what he had written; the code was all he could think of.

Haruki Fujita heard footsteps in the hall. He grabbed a blanket from the bottom of his bed and used it to cover his stepbrother, who was bundled up and lying naked with his knees pulled up to his chest, shivering.
Their father came out of the dark to switch off their light. His wife followed, passed the room with a bottle of wine, and headed down the hall. Haruki lay silent for a moment, not moving, he was aware that something important and significant was being celebrated of which they were not informed. The door of their room closed softly against the clip as his father pulled it. Then came the sound of shouting.
“You’ve bought another Porsche,” his mother said.
“The hospital pays for it, you know,” Chin Fujita replied.
Haruki heard her footsteps march up and down the room before she went to the bathroom and opened the water to wash her hands.
“You are wasting our time on Haruki.”
“No, honey, he will become a doctor someday.”
“What about my boy?”
“He’s not interested, but I think he will pass his exam next week and become a medic like Haruki. I can tell from his aptitude tests, and his EQI is off the charts.”
“Another Porsche, I can’t believe it?”
“I know. You weren’t supposed to find out. It was a surprise. I got the GT3-RS for you; that explains the black.”
Haruki could have cared less about his father wasting his money on that bitch of stepmother. Not giving a fuck was good, but—
“What did I do to deserve another black beauty? No really—is it mine?”
The sound of broken glass woke Nicklaus up. Now looking at the swimming pool in his room, he said, “They’re fighting again . . . Haruki. It’s going to be a long night if they cannot sort out their shit.”
“Are you awake?”
Nic raised his head, which was tucked under the blanket, and kissed Haruki on the forehead.
“You should tell him about your talent.”
“I have absolutely no talent.”
“But you are good at computer programming. I can see the character of Mister Anderon from the movie in you.”
That was when Haruki grew excited. “I would like to make my hero proud.”
“You have lived in the Matrix for your entire life—by which you have become a prodigy and a part-time hacker.”
Maybe even a carbon copy.
“That is nice of you, Nicky. I’m glad you are proud of me since he is on the point of giving up, calling me the family disgrace, and long since dubbed me a worthless gamer. That bitch thinks I am a black sheep and says that I have a psychological imbalance, whatever that means. She said that I have missed my vocation to become a doctor.”
“But you are smart, like your dad. I like it that you are a devoted cybernetic criminal.”
“A hacker sounds better—”
And another glass broke in the room next to them. Their father opened the balcony door, probably to smoke a cigarette. When Haruki looked up this time, he saw joy and excitement on his stepbrother’s face. He was only two years younger, after all. Nic gave him a playful smile, then went back under the blanket where he could finish what he had started.
“Nicky, for God’s sake—stop it and try to focus—”
Yet it had always bothered Haruki that they were stepbrothers. Although Nic was a devoted fan of the great Keanu Reeves so generally and justly admired for his hair. Nic had always taken care to conceal his weakness from all eyes but those who shared his passion. And their common profession as medics was an added bond between them.
Maybe Nic will understand if I tell him the truth. He cannot come with me to New York.
He toyed for a moment with a lock of Nic’s hair which had escaped from its pins, and said, with an effort of calmness in his voice:
“Would you be okay with me leaving for a few months to look for a job, Nicky?”
It was clearly needful for Nic to put his arm across his eyes without making an instant reply. Evidently he would mind; and the tears sprang into his large brown eyes as corroborative testimony.
“Ah, my brother,” he replied, looking up at his face with tenderness, “I knew this was coming. Did I not lie awake half of the afternoon weeping because, during the other half, Keanu Reeves had come to me in a dream.”
It was the great actor, Haruki Fujita would know if his stepbrother was lying, which he wasn’t.
“Neo?” he whispered. His lips were beginning to shiver again, but in the dim light of the swimming pool Nic barely noticed.
“Yes, and standing next to the computer screen—young, too, and handsome as in the first movie—pointed to your picture on the wall? I could not see your face when I looked since you were uploaded into the Matrix, such as at the end of the flick. You can smile at this, but you and I, dear, know that such things are no joke.”
Haruki’s life would be in trouble not because he was uploaded into the program but because his face was missing (and so he believed it to be an actual dream); why the hero would point to his picture on the wall baffled his mind.
“And I saw within the glowing code the wound of a blade on your throat, Haruki—forgive me, but we do not hide things from each other. Perhaps you have another interpretation. Perhaps it does not mean that you will go away. Or maybe you will take me with you?”
“I think it foreshadowed a simpler, surely less tragic, meaning like a visit to the great robot city in Zion. But please don’t try to stop me from leaving.”
“Are there not enough medics in New York?” Nic Chagall continued before his stepbrother could stop him— “Trinity discovered the truth with a broken heart? Look—my chest is ripped open; and I am almost sure that I will die in your absence.”
No—not like this.
Too sad.
Might break them apart.
The throbbing in his chest was more persistent; the next moment Haruki held out his hands but he was afraid that Nic would reject his request for affection. His hands lingered. There was a brief interval of silence. It sounded like their parents were making out again. It was warming up according to their breathing, but if his suspicions were correct, they would go on for the rest of the night. Nic refused to take his hands.
How long before his cold hands revealed the pain in his heart and his emotional scars manifesting in the form of tears, the hacker was unable to cry. How long before they would see each other again?
Three months? A year?
That would be the length of his pain, Haruki thought, and his lips began to shudder. By the time his lips stopped shaking, and it was not until a considerable time later that he realized he would have to leave his brother behind.
“I suppose I’ll have to go.”
Watching Nic, he felt the warmth of his affection for him that his blank expression denied. The weight pressed heavily on his shoulders as he watched his stepbrother cope with it in his own kind of way.

While job hunting in downtown Brooklyn after three months, Haruki was taking cover under a bridge one thunderstorm night, waiting for his weed to be delivered. The storm was well underway now, and no longer raining but pouring. He believed he understood the economic difficulties brought on by the COVID-19 pandemic—since he hadn’t found a job yet—but as the homeless people kept multiplying (he could see more and more people each week), he began to gain a different perspective in terms of earning an honest paycheck.
To his right, through the maze of squatters and bonfires toward the parking lot, he saw a black Lincoln Continental. Haruki noticed a driver with white hair holding the steering wheel like a woman (shit, he thought, she looked exactly like the driver from The Matrix) with her long nails and black leather jacket.
“What the hell?” he asked, sounding smoked as usual.
The car first drove around and then pulled right up to him. He thought of asking the driver if she had also ordered some weed—her eyes were looking mighty red—and decided he didn’t want to have that conversation now. He turned his attention toward the backseat where another woman with a crying baby had been watching him. At first he thought she looked familiar. Then he looked again and saw she was actually a transvestite, rocking the baby in his arms.
“You need to come with us,” the transvestite said. “We heard you are looking for a job?”
“We don’t have much time, Elon,” the driver added.
He thought of Nic back home and imagined he would make his stepbrother proud when breaking the news. He resisted the urge to question the man about the job . . . or even ask them who they were. His clever plan to look for a job in the big city was pretty screwed up and turned out to be a great mistake.
The crying increased, louder.
“We are subcontracting for NASA,” Elon said. He showed his badge to prove it.
“Really?”
“Come.”
“Now?”
“You know we are the real deal, right?”
“Shit, no. I didn’t expect it to happen like this.” Failing to hide the doubt on his face. Or the glimmering sweat on his forehead. Maybe from the weed or the rain. Maybe both.
“Your father said you’re the best medic in the field, but legislation makes it impossible with your qualifications. Your father has pulled some strings for you to work through us. The danger pay is good. Since you’ll be working in space.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
“No, really.”
“Space?”
“You will be working on the International Space Station for three months on and three months off, both of you.”
Haruki didn’t hear it. Till it registered. “Both?”
“Both of the Fujita boys will be going to space!”
Haruki brightened. NASA also recruited his stepbrother to join the crew, and two weeks later, the two brothers were reunited in the microgravity of space.
Though happy to be together, Haruki was no less proud in spirit that he had been onboard the ISS for weeks that felt like an eternity. He gladly enjoyed the company of his stepbrother, and it was while living onboard the ISS, awaiting news and orders from ground control, that he had slipped into a trance.

The hallucination came back to Haruki Fujita, haunting enough, as he stood on board the spaceship with his back against the reddened wall, hands at his side. He had to lift his head upward slightly to confront his enemy. Well . . . actually, he had to lift his head more than slightly. The thing was large. So large that he couldn’t even see the extraterrestrial beast. In case you didn’t notice the predator reminds me of Nicky, but ten times more horrible! A monster that stirred no love nor longing in my heart, but strangely its presence evoked pleasant memories of my happy childhood—with all kinds of sentiment. The tender emotions were swallowed up in fear.
Haruki tried to run away, but his boots were saturated with slime. He was unable to pull his legs out of the mess. His arms drifted uselessly in the air; of his eyes only he remained in control, and these he dared not remove from the glowing ember of his enemy.
He stared at it.
Was it cybernetic?
Shit, it looked like it was.
Anyway, it seemed biological and that most dreadful of all existences—a robot with predatory limbs! In its blank stare, he noticed neither love, pity, nor artificial intelligence—nothing to which he could address an appeal for mercy.
An appeal won’t be a lie, he thought.
The sight of it evoked no happy memories. If he could have reached it he would have grabbed it. If he could have reached it he would have tried to stick his finger into its glowing eye. But his inaction only made the situation more terrifying with the red glow on his forehead.
For a time, which seemed so long that the Earth grew bleak with crime and murder, and the haunted ship, having miscalculated its destination in this monstrous height of its terrors, faded out of his consciousness with all its sights and sounds, the predator invaded his space, regarding him with the brutal malevolence of a cybernetic monster.
Quivering with panic, Haruki lifted his head so he could peer into its mouth, double-edged razor blades, rows and rows of them like a predator with a mouthful of fangs chipped but otherwise deadly.
“I see.”
It sat down. The ship rocked a little. Haruki guessed that the beast might weigh as much as thirty tons. It had come from a universe where there were different alloys, shapeshifting metal . . . also advanced composites were used in its construction, some organic materials like flesh and exoskeleton, the biological part of the organism was infected with a wicked cancer.
The monster roared at him, promising annihilation.
He moved back. The monster came forward. That made Haruki very uncomfortable.
“Shit!” Haruki didn’t take any pleasure in the way this was going if not for the brutal nature of his enemy; as solid as a piece of machinery and ferocious, it transformed itself grinning with its one eye missing, about to deliver him to the universe and convert him into stardust.
The thing’s mouth grew sly, confronting him to admit a dirty, dirty secret. Its grin became a smile. Strangely, the venom oozed out of its tongue. This is what it looks like, he thought, if a species faces its ultimate extinction even worse than those robots from the movie. This is what it looks like just before the end of humanity.
“No . . .”
The beast thrust its limbs forward and sprang upon him with outrageous ferocity! The act released Haruki’s physical energy without affecting his willpower to fight back. And his pain was blocked out by an overdose of hydrofluoric acid at the same time something leeched onto his brainstem, his flimsy body and dangling arms powered with a blind, inanimate mind of their own, became weak and puny.
“Not like this . . . I can’t die like this . . . and what about . . . wait!”
For an instant he seemed to see this supernatural contest between an infected robot and a dying human only as a spectator—such fantasies of hallucinations.
He looked at the wall crying like a girl, leaving the predator and its claws to finish him off. Then he regained his willpower almost as if by a leap forward into his body, and the visionary now had an accurate will as alert and fierce as that of the predator.
“Leame dafuckalone!”
He tried to fight back. The hacker’s return. But how can a human compete with a creature of extraterrestrial origins? He supposed a boy who was being killed by an alien monster might feel something like pain as he lay regarding his gushing main artery with a cold surprise. The programmer’s skill is the programmer’s weakness.
“No!” His neck bled like a slaughtered animal. His worthless hands were clasped at his sides.
Despite his struggles—despite his strength and willpower, which seemed wasted in the void of space, he felt the sharp claws thrust into his throat and brain, many times. Falling backward to the sheet metal, he saw through his cracked visor the grey and dusty surface of the Moon within an arm’s reach of his own, and then everything was black. The sounds of the unearthly radio frequencies in the distance—the dolphin’s cry, a sharp, far growl declaring the end, and Hariki Fujita imagined he was dead.

The International Space Station is that kind of place that when you are there, you must take it all in, but after Peggy grabbed Jameson by the arm and ordered him to come with her, there was no time to take it all in. The airlock closed behind them, and Peggy knew they were getting close.
“How far is it?” Jamason asked, as they hovered along, their feet stirring particles of dust in the microgravity beneath their soles.
Peggy looked at him, suspiciously, recalling that he had agreed to go with her without informing ground control of their whereabouts.
“Only a few feet further,” Peggy answered. She led the way toward the old storage bay with its battery banks and electrical inverters, accumulating backup electricity in case of an emergency.
“What is going on,” he said as they hovered through the west hanger where corrosion and dilapidation gradually increased and passed through the narrow arch into the dark, freezing aerospace shadows.
“You know Haruki Fujita?” she said, feeding her companion’s curiosity with as little information as possible. The name was disturbing, and Peggy felt her neck spasm a little.
“The Jap who plays with his stepbrother’s hair? I know him; he ruined a month of my work after the botanicals died from his intrusion. There is an HR complaint lodged against him for interfering with my plants, but ground control refuses to believe it. You will believe me when—”
“I believe you, okay. Because he has been hacking into the servers for a long time. He works at night in the dilapidated capsule.”
“The asshole! So that’s where the acidic atmosphere that killed my plants came from.”
“You might have imagined that NASA’s security checks would have picked up a cybernetic criminal who could hack their instrumentation.”
“The very last person I would have suspected.”
“Yesterday afternoon I was issued a job card to check the battery terminals. To my surprise I found something else in there, I found ‘a computer of him’ in there.”
“So you caught him red-handed?”
“Damn it! He frightened me. Something growled from behind me—it literally gave me goosebumps. I’m lucky that I wasn’t there ten minutes earlier. Oh shit, he was dying, and I thought the blood floating in space was proof enough that I wouldn’t be able to save him.”
Hovering in the cramped hanger shoulder to shoulder, Peggy glanced at him. The boy’s eyes were so dark they seemed black, only by her flashbeam did they turn indigo blue. She noticed her death-grip on the torch, her gloves couldn’t release their hold even consciously.
“I need to show you the body so that we can devise a plan of action,” the engineer explained. “I thought it was safe for us to check out the corpse during the day.”
“Are you sure the Jap is dead?” said the biologist. “The light in there may have obscured your visibility and conclusion. If he was unconscious he might still be alive.”
“Well, he seemed very dead to me.” She glanced sideways at the boy, and felt a flare of disappointment. She knew deep down in her being that Haruki was gone, one of the first dead bodies she ever encountered. She had to admit that such a bloody, gruesome, and unsettling scene she had never seen in all her years as a first aider or electrical engineer.
“Alright,” Jameson said; “we will go and look at him,” and he added, in the words of a caring person, “we should keep this between us—I mean, if young Nic Chagall ever finds out about his stepbrother it would kill him. By the way, I heard the other day that ‘Nic’ was not his real name.”
“What is?”
“I cannot remember. I had lost interest in the introvert, and it did not grab hold in my memory—something like Nicklaus. The medic who enrolled in the space program joined his stepbrother after he was abandoned. But Haruki, on the other hand, had joined in search of extraterrestrial technology. Can you believe that there are people who still believe in aliens nowadays? Clearly you are not a believer.”
“Obviously.”
“But wandering about your faith, what do you believe in then? Your boyfriend mentioned what the name was called and said it was scientific in nature.”
“We don’t have a name yet.” Peggy was reluctant to argue without facts about something so important as that. Bossi bases his beliefs on the Principia Mathematica. Isaac Newton was the founder of a philosophy that was only recently made public. A few fragments of his work provide scientific evidence based on experimentation. But anyhow, here is the storage bay.”
She looked at him sharply to see if he was prepared. His face, however, was wearing an expression of frozen panic. His lips and nostrils were rimmed with deep purple, and there were shadows in his dark eyes, like the shapes of a reptile streaking into two hard lines.
“Lemme show you where I found the body,” she said, “this is the place.”
As the two astronauts made their way through the blood of hovering crimson, they suddenly stopped and lifted their flashbeams to the height of the wall, uttered a low note of surprise, and stood motionless, their eyes fixed upon something weird. As far as Peggy could see the wall was covered with inscriptions, though she did not yet understand what she was looking at. A moment later she moved cautiously forward, aiming for the inverters.
Behind the inverter of an enormous height hovered the spacesuit of another astronaut. Standing silent beside it, Peggy noted such particulars that immediately took her attention—the suit was empty, the body missing, the clothing still inside; whatever most probably and strangely happened to this astronaut must have been unearthly.
The suit floated upon its back, the nametag—Nic Chagall. One arm was twisted in circles, the other stretched, but the latter was ripped off brutally, with the missing piece stuck to the helmet. The other arm was severely bent. The whole attitude of the suit was that of desperate but weak resistance to something.
Nearby drifted the disemboweled stepbrother with his naked finger stretched out, stained and blotched, and the floor had been scribbled with blood into symbols all over the corroded floorplate; next to his suit was unmistakable the footprint of an alien entity.
A glance at the empty spacesuit’s missing glove and boots made the nature of the struggle even more mysterious. While the suit and helmet were clean, the arms and legs were red—almost black. The oxygen hose stuck against an inverter, and the suit was twisted and turned backward, opposite any natural posture.
From behind Haruki’s cracked helmet his eyes had popped, bloody and gruesome. The throat showed horrible penetrations; not mere fingermarks, but lacerations and stab wounds inflicted by animal claws that must have buried themselves in his bleeding flesh, maintaining their terrible grip long after death. His throat, chin, and face were soggy; the material saturated; drops of blood had gathered like condensate inside his visor, bloodstained hair and cheeks.
All this the two astronauts observed without speaking—almost frozen. Then Jameson said:
“Poor Haruki! He got what he deserved.”
Peggy was vigilantly inspecting the storage bay. Her flashbeam was held in both hands and at full brightness, and her gloves were clenched around the handle.
“The work of a murderer,” she said, without removing her eyes from the surrounding inverters. “It was done by Nic—Chagall.”
Something half-hidden by the cable racks behind the inverters caught Peggy’s attention. It was the wall. She looked at it while lifting her flashbeam. It contained the code of computer and upon the entire wall the name “Stefan Bossi.” Written in blood over and over again—scribbled as if in haste barely legible—were the following lines, which Peggy read silently while her companion started scanning the dark confines of the enclosure and hearing a commotion from inside the bloody spiderwebs dangling from the wall.

public class Main {
public static void main(String[] args) {
String originalName = “Stefan Bossi”;
System.out.println(“Original name: “ + originalName);

// Reversing the name
String reversedName = new StringBuilder(originalName).reverse().toString();
System.out.println(“Reversed name: “ + reversedName);

// Converting to uppercase
String upperCaseName = originalName.toUpperCase();
System.out.println(“Uppercase name: “ + upperCaseName);

// Swapping first name with last name
int spaceIndex = originalName.indexOf(‘ ‘);
String firstName

“Bossi Stefan—”
Peggy stopped reading; there was no more to read. The code broke off in the middle of a line.
“What a flawless Java script,” she said, since she was somewhat of a programmer herself. With extraordinary patience she stood looking at the wall.
“Who’s Java?” Jameson asked rather confused.
“Computer code, a script that was written to play around with two words—a very jolly script indeed. Coded in first generation; I know the language. The script repeated my boyfriend’s name, but it must have been by mistake.”
“Your boyfriend?” Jameson said. “Let us go back; we must share this information with ground control.”
Peggy said nothing but nodded in compliance. Staring at the inverter behind the empty spacesuit of the missing astronaut with the oxygen hose entangled, she saw that the absent glove was stuck (or rather glued) to the vertical surface by some slimy substance drooling from the melted plastic. She took her torch to illuminate it into view. It was an oozing mess, and painted on the panel were the hardly decipherable words, “Peggy Lance.”
“Peggy Lance!” exclaimed Jameson, with sudden animation. “Why, that is your name—not Stefan Bossi. And—curse your soul! How it all comes together—the murderer’s name is Peggy Lance!”
“There is something weird going on here,” Peggy said. “I deny anything of the kind.”
There came to them from inside the wall—seemingly from a great distance—the sound of a growl, a high-pitched, frequency, cybernetic echo, which had no more joy than that of a predator prowling at its prey; a growl that originated from far away, closer and closer, distinct, more explicit but brutal, until it faded away outside the audible distance of their hearing; a growl so unnatural, so extraterrestrial, so morbid, that it filled those freaked out astronauts with a sense of dread unspeakable! They did not move their torches nor think of them; the menace of that horrible sound was the kind not to be disturbed by light. As it had originated out of solid metal, to die away grimly; from a culminating frequency that had seemed almost in their head, it retreated into the distance until its soft echoes, cybernetic and mechanical to the last frequency, faded into silence at an immeasurable distance.

Howdy l've been role-playing and writing in general for at least a decade. I am a Male who can play male and female characters. I have original ideas all over and a lot of Fandoms I'm in, which I'Il include below. I'm looking for OCXOC. Every character must be 18+ I have plenty of original characters and ideas along with fandom plots.
For original ideas, i like horror and apocalypse with action and depending romance. I do have a variety. I really like monsters and creepy things from the horror genre like vampires and Tentacles, and l even have my own idea set up in modern times dealing with vampires and hunters and all of that i also enjoy eldritch type horror. I also like old-school slasher films and space sci-fi horror similar to the Alien Franchise. Now on fandoms! To get some other things down, l only play OC. The anime fandoms i like are Jojo's, Chainsaw Man, Naruto, JJK, Soul Eater, and more. I'm well versed in the Jojo's, Naruto, and JJK, and soul eater fandoms, though it's been a while since ï've stopped keeping up with soul eater. Other fandoms im in include Call of Duty, Marvel, and DC.
I tend to use character sheets to describe my character. These are very thorough and usually consist of names, backgrounds, and personalities, along with an in-depth look on appearance. More so on appearances, I don't usually use picture references, but I will if you would like me to. The types of characters I write are the lone wolf type that has some sad past, which leads them to potentially go off the rails and gain a villain arc.
I like all types of tropes, especially enemies to lovers or rivalry. I also really enjoy opposites attracted as a whole from either opposite personality or something else they would be opposites in. Enemies to lovers takes my heart, though. I love seeing the characters go past theurge to ultimately hate each other and/or go past their usual way of disliking the others' lineage or upcoming I also love good written trauma moments. Like character death's, moments of pain and strife only to see the characters to deal and either be consumed or overcome them. I tend to either come up with original ideas for these scenes or use anime scenes as inspiration with narrative tweaks.
REQUIREMENT
I think my two biggest requirements are creativity and good pacing. Like any story, I feel these two things are very necessary to make a good story. Now, by Creativity, I don't mean you need to bring absolute craziness into the story, but abilities, character etc need to have some good genuine thought put into them. Along with that comes good pacing, which means I don't personally care about response length, and mine will vary from scene to scene accordingly.
I'm pretty much done if you have any questions. I'm here, and I'd love to hear back from you in chat the password is your favorite color. Supply it in chat only.

I really enjoy coloring pixel art on graph paper. I got a nice journal that I want to use to draw and color the characters from both games, but I can't find any good, high resolution sprites. I am aware of the Spriter's Resource, but when I download the images, they come as sheets and I can't separate them. I found this thread from a few years ago, but the links are broken: https://www.reddit.com/octopathtravelecomments/9k2895/sprite_rips_characters_and_npcs/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button
Can anyone share any resources they have with these sprites? Thank you in advance!

Timestamp: https://imgur.com/a/T2jHa7v
7672: $150, The set is complete and includes instructions, and an unused sticker sheet.
7259: $90, The set is complete, with one piece color substituted. The 553 dome brick is white as opposed to yellow. Only visible from the bottom as pictured in the imgur link. No instructions.
All prices exclude shipping.

I'm 35 years old, married with kids, and working from home in a small Turkish village while having a little home farm with veggies and rabbits.
I run 24 products with no employees. I'm obsessed with productivity and simplicity.

Complexity isn't an asset; it's your liability.
All my simplicity hacks:

1. Solo teams.

One person - one task. No meetings, no discussions, no arguments, no drama.

2. Google Sheets.

The simplest & most powerful human invention. I use it for accounting, planning, documentation, backend, and database. It's easy to use, share, edit, clone, automate.

3. Less features.

I don't copy an existing tool & add more features on top of it. Most products are difficult to use because they have too many features for too many audiences. I pick one audience and remove everything that is irrelevant. Often, that's 90% of the stuff gone.

4. Multi-functional people.

I don't have people doing just one job. My DevOps guy does support, accounting, paperwork, finances, and more. His output is, in fact, better than what I had back in VC-funded startups with dedicated employees per job.

5. I adapt for simplicity.

For example, I use Mercury Bank because it's simple to use. Other banks have more financial instruments, but I'd have to spend more time setting them up and operating them.

6. My org setup is flat & simple.

I have no system. It's me, and everyone else reports to me directly. There are no more managers. Everything is done via Discord chat. Every "job" has a channel in Discord where we discuss it. There are no emails or PM software. There are only chats and Google Sheets for structured data.

7. I have zero employees.

Only contractors. So that I don't have to bother with all the paperwork, their holiday pay, and other stuff.

8. I work from home.

No office to rent and maintain.

9. Simple websites.

All my websites have very simple landing pages made using my own simple website builder. I spent less than an hour making them. I've never made an advanced website with fancy animations and flashy elements. It's the #1 procrastination trap 90% of founders fall into. My simple websites bring hundreds of thousands in sales, while those fancy sites sit on zeros.

10. Simple products.

I never spend time making custom designs. Design isn't how the product looks! Design is how the product works, so I put a lot of effort into UX but never into UI. I copy the existing patterns and use random popular UI libraries and default colors.

11. I only hire when it hurts.

More people = More liabilities. Find them, screen them, onboard them, and ensure they're happy and know what to do, among other things. I either do new tasks myself or throw them onto existing team members until it really hurts and I have to add one more person. I don't think there is a more effective organization on earth today than my org.

12. I buy my time back.

I don't waste my time doing things I can pay for. So many founders spend days doing things they could pay $ for. Time is your key asset. Save it at all costs.

13. NoCode vs High Code.

I'm a coder; I know Assembler, C++, Delphi, PHP, ASP, C#, JS, TS, Python, NextJS, and more. But I still go for NoCode SaaS for most of my MVPs. Because I'm not falling for "I can code this one on a weekend..". The key advantage of NoCode comes after release when I have to iterate fast.

14. Avoid obstacles.

I avoid everything that may turn into a never-ending mess. Despite the common belief that founders must be brave at taking challenges, I actually avoid challenges. My goal is to be like a river that finds the easiest possible path forward towards the sea. I do take my battles, but I choose them wisely.
That's it.
What's your productivity or simplicity hack?

A few years ago I got a rock with googly eyes. This year, two small sheets of rainbow colored star stickers, with a note reading, “I am bursting with appreciation for you. You are a 5 star teacher!”
So I’ve got that going for me.

At the suggestion of someone on this forum I sent out my logo for digitizing to see what a pro would do and have something as a benchmark as I learn. Did a lot of research and picked one a lot of people recommended thinking that I would want to have that option if we add embroidery before I know what I am doing. They seemed together and had a dashboard for workflow etc. The logo came back looking, to my inexperienced eye, not very good and the pdf spec sheet had the right file info but had a completely different set of colors. I am not saying the shop used auto digitize but it did look almost exactly like the Hatch 3 auto digitize output from my demo. It's not junky looking but I would not use it for my company.
I see a lot of just OK looking embroidery files and products and it makes me wonder if you can really use out side companies effectively if really high quality is what you are after.
Unless you are spending at least triple digits on end product I just don't see how it can add up for these companies to do it for the rates I see. I know really experienced people can do things quickly and I get that auto digitize gives them a jump start on time but there are still a lot of steps no matter how good you are and running a couple test as you go and a final will eat up a bunch of time. The gross prices I see just don't seem like they would even come close to covering someone working at finishing up with the best they think it can be type quality.
Is what it takes to do the job right more than anyone is willing to spend? Obviously there are many people willing to open their wallets for quality work but are there enough? Are there two tiers of pro work, passable but cheap and beautiful but expensive? Will clients go along with a $200-$300 file setup?
I bring all of this up because I see a lot of people stop by the forum without any knowledge of embroidery at all, planning to go buy a multi needle machine or three, learn how to operate it and outsource the files as they get jobs. A lot of the Youtube people I see had customers already and they just bought a machine and started offer embroidery. It sure seems like they may go for the cheap files and never really know the difference if they aren't going beyond loading hoops and thread.
Am I reading this correctly? Are most shops finding digitizers that do it right and spending what it takes on a job by job basis or is the outsourcing a competitive race to the bottom in pricing with lots of marginal jobs being done because no one will spend what it truly takes to do it right.
Also this whole post is based of me getting one, kind of crappy, logo back with the wrong PDF so there's that.
edit: It sounds like the answer is that there are lots of companies and people that do it so you just need to work on finding a good match. Hey the guys I used may be fine and we just need to get to know each other and what the expectations are. Thanks for all the feedback everyone!

Rosalina coloring sheets

SneakerColoringSheets

1. Solo teams.

2. Google Sheets.

3. Less features.

4. Multi-functional people.

5. I adapt for simplicity.

6. My org setup is flat & simple.

7. I have zero employees.

8. I work from home.

9. Simple websites.

10. Simple products.

11. I only hire when it hurts.

12. I buy my time back.

13. NoCode vs High Code.

14. Avoid obstacles.

Unboxing

Surface

Static Friction

Dynamic Friction

Performance

Base

Stitching

Conclusion