Zipper foot for singer sewing machine

Merrow - USA Manufacturing, Supply Chain and Technology

2015.02.28 16:30 textilemagnate Merrow - USA Manufacturing, Supply Chain and Technology

Merrow, est. 1838, is owned and operated by 8th generation family members with diversified interests in USA based manufacturing operations. This subreddit is a place for industry advocacy and support. In 2017 and 2018 Merrow won manufacturer of the year in the State of MA, the 2018 MassINC Gateway City Innovation Award, the 2017 Constellation Supernova award for technology innovation, the 2019 Cornerstone Entrepreneur Award from Bristol Community College.

2023.03.25 23:11 Morzo_Voidmaster [FN] A Cretaceous Fairy Tale

In the Late Cretaceous of a fairy tale world much like our own live critters, familiar yet strange. Dinosaurs and mammals kill and die like animals, but think and speak like men. One devours the other, but might chat a bit before. In this society of physiological unequals, the mammals form the downtrodden. And, like in our world, where there are downtrodden, there is music.
Subtropical forest covers what will someday be New Jersey. A hollow earthen mound four meters high and twelve across nestles among the flowering trees. A sign sits out front announcing the mound's name, The Dugout, and purpose, as a venue for bands. Inside lies an elevated stage lit by torches and a skylight and fronted by six logs for seating. The seats are quickly filling up with dozens of mammals of various sizes and diets. On stage are four didelphodons, mammals of contemporarily large size.
The stage mammals are each nearly a meter long from the top of their head to the tip of their tail. Right now, they stand like men, eighty centimeter tall men. Three brothers and a sister, they are both siblings and bandmates. One brother, Eddy, is the singer for the band and the star of our tale.
Eddy is the youngest and the shortest but has a voice that could make a T-Rex swoon. A crop of long blonde hair sits atop his head, contrasting his otherwise brown fur. His clawed hands pluck and tune an acoustic guitar of exceptional quality. On its back are inscribed these words, "For our little rock star, Eddy, love Mom and Dad."
Eddy looks around at the other members of the band.
There is his brother Tommy, their lead guitarist and second oldest. He wears both a bandana and a bad attitude but Eddy knows the kindness and patience he can show when giving a guitar lesson.
His brother Sparky, their drummer and second youngest, gnaws on his sticks with a crazed look and spiky hair. After all these years, he is still charged with energy from the lightning strike.
His sister Lucy, their bass player and oldest sibling, stands nearest. Her flowing blonde hair hides her face but he knows she is always watching. She has been the siblings' rock ever since Mom and Dad's death.
All six logs are filled to the brim, a crowd of nearly a hundred. A full moon hangs in the meter-wide skylight. Eddy steps forward to the wooden funnel which serves as a microphone.
"Thank you all for coming out tonight," he says. "We have some great music ahead, but first let me introduce you to the band. There's my brother, Tommy, my brother, Sparky, and my dear sister, Lucy. Together, we are Bad Litter!"
Eddy then steps back for a second, closes his eyes and imagines the faces of his parents.
"Mom, Dad," he says, "if you're watching from heaven, I love you."
Then, he begins to sing:
"When the sun comes out, and I see you there. My heart begins, to burn again. In this big world, it's just you and me. With you at my side, I'll always be free—"
"Dryptosaur," screams someone from the crowd as a shadow passes across the stage. Perching in the skylight, blocking the full moon, is a five meter long raptor-like dinosaur with a red and white coat of feathers indicative of a female.
Eddy stops singing. Tommy and Lucy stop playing. Sparky, slow to the uptake, keeps banging his drums. The dryptosaur puts an end to it by crushing him with one taloned foot.
Tommy, never quick to anger, charges at his brother's killer and strikes the dryptosaur on the shin with his guitar. The guitar breaks at the neck. The dryptosaur breaks Tommy's neck.
Lucy shields Eddy behind her, determined to protect her youngest and only remaining brother. His eyes transfix on her long hair as he watches her rise into the air by way of the dryptosaur's clawed hand.
With the other hand, the dryptosaur casually snaps Lucy's neck. Her struggling stops and her body becomes as limp as her hair. Then into the jaws of death she goes. Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.
The dryptosaur sits down on the stage beside Eddy, her collossal legs stretching out to the third row of the now empty seats.
"Hey," she says.
Eddy says nothing.
"That's okay, I understand, you've been through a very traumatic experience. We'll have plenty of time for conversation later."
With bloodstained fingers she pulls Eddy to her side.
"Congratulations, Eddy, you just enrolled in my school of life."
The sun rises over the forest, its rays poking through the dense foliage to pattern the ground. Bad Litter's devourer slumbers on a pile of fallen leaves, her head tucked into her arms and her tail wrapped around her whole. A beam of light prods her eye and she wakes with a yawn.
Not seeing Eddy anywhere, she briefly panics before remembering that she is sitting on him, gently, like an egg, so way he cannot escape.
"Sorry if it was a little hard to breathe," she says, "I haven't incubated in years."
Eddy lies face up and spread out. He takes one, deep, grateful breath but is otherwise stoic.
"I wish I'd suffocated," he says at last.
"Poor Eddy," says the dryptosaur, peeling him from the ground and cradling him in her arms. "What misfortune has befallen you? No, wait, I remember."
She laughs in Eddy's face, but loosens her grip enough for him to fall back onto the ground.
"What do you want from me?," says Eddy.
"Your company. I have business to take care of in the Appalachian Mountains. It's a five day journey and I could use some entertainment."
"Then play with yourself."
"I'd much rather play with you. Really, what happened to the little song rat from last night?"
"He died with his band," growls Eddy.
"Well," she growls mockingly, "whomever I'm speaking to currently should get ready to set out."
"You expect me to travel with a stranger who murdered everyone I love?"
"Stranger? That's right, I never properly introduced myself. My name's Tava."
A pause ensued as she obviously wanted him to ask what "Tava" meant.
"What does that—"
"I'm glad you asked Eddy. The name is Tave 'cause I'm hot like lava (tsss). Just replace the 'l' with a capital 'T.'"
Tava pinches Eddy's cheeks and moulds them like putty.
"Say it with me, Tah-vah."
"Trrr-vrrr," says Eddy.
"Close enough. Let's go."
Eddy's guitar sits in its case at the trunk of a nearby tree. Eddy shuffles over to grab it as Tava starts along the path. By the time he has the case in hand, she is ten meters away—far enough for an escape. In a flash of action he drops the guitar case and sprints away on all-fours. He gets some distance before a shadow blots out the sun and a feathered tail slaps him down.
"Eddy," says Tava, now holding him to the ground with one hand, "how could you attempt an escape without your guitar?
Tava opens the case and picks up the guitar with her other hand. Held between her thumb and forefinger, the instrument looks like it is meant for a doll.
"What a work of craftsmanship," says Tava. " And look, something's written on the back. 'For our little rockstar, Eddy. Love Mom and Dad.' How sweet. Maybe you can take me to see them once my business in the Appalachians has concluded."
"They're both dead," says Eddy.
"Any other relatives?"
"I'm all that's left."
"A one-of-a-kind treasure! And I will treasure you."
Tava retracts her grip on Eddy but presses her snout into him. Her yellow eyes drill yet further.
"Don't even think about escaping," she says. "I'm faster, I'm stronger, and, most importantly, I'm smarter than you."
Tava recedes to let oxygen refill Eddy's lungs before clasping him again in her free claw. She places him in the valley between her neck and arch of her back.
"I'll tote you for a while. You know, as a favor. After all, what are friends for?"
Eddy does not answer, nor does he speak much over the next three days. He and his guitar are mere passengers on a walking, feathered prison. He dismounts only to eat, a terrible process in which Tava forces bugs and water down his throat, and sleep, again with her sitting on him like an egg.
The scenery changes throughout the third day from a coastal forest to one more suited to hills. Trees are more spaced out, undergrowth lessens and streams cut ravines several times deeper than Tava is tall. Eddy begins to have morbid daydreams in which Tava slips and he falls off into a ravine, hitting head first onto a boulder strewn streambed.
His daydream stops when they encounter a large duck-billed dinosaur blocking their path. The creature is a sessile herbivore and there are many other paths, but Tava is in a fighting mood.
"Move your ass duckface!," she yells.
"There are plenty of other routes around me," responds Duckface in speech garbled by a mouth full of leaves and stems.
"But I like this one. Remove yourself or I'll remove you, one piece at a time."
Duckface's tail swings at Tava. She dodges but flings Eddy and his guitar case in the process. Tava leaps about before finally tricking Duckface into headbutting a tree and knocking himself unconscious. Tava grabs Eddy and his guitar and passes through.
The encounter makes Tava cheerful and keeps her so into the night. Instead of smothering Eddy, she decides to sleep on her back and let him rest on her heaving chest.
"The moon is starting to wane," says Tava. "Pretty soon the stars will practically explode out of the black sky. Some see pictures in the stars, caricatures of creatures drawn onto the sky. Would you like me to show you?"
Eddy moans lowly.
"I'll list them then," she continues. "There's the raptor, the rat, the fish, the seabird, the crocodile, the caterpillar. It's all a fantasy to make life more than it is, to project ourselves onto an immensity we cannot know. I hope you're turning this rant into a song. Hey!"
Tava grabs Eddy who curls tighter. She then pries him open and flattens him out. Tears and snot reflect on his face in the moonlight.
"Why?," says Eddy.
"Why what, dear?"
"Why do you torture me?"
"Isn't it obvious? Because you were born weak and I strong. Because life is torture."
"No, no," he says, shaking his head, "life is beautiful."
"You of all people should know better than that."
"Life can be ugly but can also be love, and family, and music, and—"
"Enough! Let me tell you about life, my delusional little friend. Life, for all creatures, is the struggle not to starve, to consume anything and anyone you can fit in your mouth and swallow without choking. We are but walking digestive tracts, gnashing teeth on one end and excreting waste out the other."
Eddy curls back up and begins to whimper.
"You'll see soon enough," says Tava, rubbing her gurgling stomach.
Night turns into day accompanied by the chirping conversations of treetop birds. The ancestors of orchids bloom all around. Eddy sits a few meters from a stream with his guitar in hand. He carefully replaces a broken string then tunes the whole guitar. Tava, who had "a matter to attend to," emerges from the bushes.
"I had feared that our little rumble might have ruined your guitar," she says. "I underestimated your talents."
Eddy remains silent.
"How about a song to celebrate its repair."
"Sing away," says Eddy
"Stoicism is the enemy of musicians everywhere. But I have the cure. Get up and follow me."
Eddy follows Tava into the underbrush.
"I think you'll like what I've cooked up," she says. "I'm surprised that it took this long, but I suppose I'm not young anymore."
Eddy and Tava come to a small clearing with something steaming at its center. As he looks closer, a red bandana becomes visible. His face contorts into a look of pure horror as he realizes what it is that he sees.
"The band is reunited!," says Tava.
"M-my family."
"Oh that's right, it's also a family reunion too."
Tava leans over and shares Eddy's eye level.
"Do I spot a family resemblance?"
Tava walks away in a fit of laughter while Eddy collapses into tears.
On day five, Tava hikes through the ever thinner tree cover with Eddy and his guitar tied to her back with a piece of vine. She climbs atop a rock outcrop and spies three dryptosaurs standing near a pond a few hills over.
"Well, well," says Tava. "How would you like to go for a swim, Eddy?"
"I would like you to drown me," he responds.
"No can do, my macabre little friend. But I think I'll show you off to some admirers of mine. Get ready to sing."
Tava makes footfalls softer than the rustling of her feathers. She is mere meters away from the three dryptosaurs by the time they are aware of her. Smaller than Tava, their colored feathers distinguish them as males. Tava unties Eddy and his guitar case as the group ahead starts to run away.
"Don't bother," says Tava, "you know I'm twice as fast as any of you. Besides, I come in peace. Eddy, may I introduce my friends, Alexander, Montgomery, and Laurence."
"Don't think we forgot what you did to poor Laurence two months ago," says Alexander. "He still walks with a limp."
"It's true!," says Laurence, shrinking into himself.
"We're not your friends," says Alexander, "and you're not welcome here, Lucille."
"My name's Tava now."
"Tava?," says Alexander. "Let me guess, you changed the "l" in lava to a 'T.' Lava is hot so Tava is 'too hot.'"
Tava twitches.
"You're lucky I'm already pregnant, otherwise I'd give you a limp too, Alexander."
"Pregnant?," whispers Laurence.
"Then what do you want, Tah-vah?," says Alexander.
Tava holds Eddy out like a new toy, shaking him mildly.
Behold," she says, "my new song rat. Give them a sample Eddy."
"That couldn't be . . .," says Laurence.
"Would any of you be kind enough to kill me?," says Eddy in a monotone voice.
"A real vocal icon you have there," says Alexander. "Does he dance too? Perhaps the Stand-Still Boogie?"
Tava sets Eddy down and storms up to Alexander, who shrinks a little. Montgomery backs him up but Laurence slips away.
"Perhaps you'd like to dance," says Tava. "I'm proficient at the Bruised Danube."
Eddy looks up to find Laurence standing over him.
"I don't believe it," giggles Laurence, "you're Eddy, the lead singer of Bad Litter! I am a huge fan. W-where's the rest of the band?"
Eddy points to Tava.
"Shat out," he says.
Laurence looks at Tava then jerks his gaze away in horror.
"She, she, she ate them? But why did she leave you?"
"I don't know. I wish she hadn't. Could you kill me? I don't care to live anymore."
"Y-yes. Yes, of course, anything to help. But since you're the only surviving member, could you sign this t-shirt for me first?"
"If that's the price of relief, sure."
"Thank you so much. It really means a lot to have—"
"Get away from my pet, Laurence!"
Laurence turns to see Tava a nose length away. He grabs his t-shirt and runs away.
"Because you three were so rude," says Tava, "I'm not letting you hear a single note from my song rat."
Tava hangs Eddy over her shoulder like a rag and starts to walk away before turning her gaze back to the three dryptosaurs now huddling together for safety.
"But don't worry, boys, I'll be back to take what I want from you."
Eddy watches the three dryptosaurs shrink in his vision, knowing they might be his last chance at freedom, or at least the release of death. On Tava's back and in motionless despair, he rides into the mountains. Vegetation becomes scarce and bare rock erupts everywhere. The path winds through limestone which formed before either dinosaurs or mammals even arose.
The fifth day transitions into the sixth without Tava stopping for rest. She marches through the night under the light of a three-quarters moon. Eddy is able to take short naps because Tava is as soft as a feather bed and more than a match for anything that would want to harm him.
Eddy wakes to the sight of a blazing noon sun. Tava is kneeling on a granite plateau, holding her abdomen and screeching in pain.
"Oh, oh ho ho, right on time!," she says. "Get off, I could use some help."
Tava loosens the vine holding Eddy and his guitar case and both slide off her back. She then walks over to a pair of dry, dead bushes and snaps most of their branches off.
"What are you—," Eddy begins.
"Shut up. They're coming. Gotta build a nest."
She weaves the branches into a rough circle, collapses on top and pulls Eddy close.
"Now, keeyeeyeep your eye on the birdie."
A blood-soaked egg peeks through. Eddy places his hands on it, though remains baffled as to what Tava expects him to do. She enlightens him by giving a hard push and ejecting the egg on top of him. It is fifty centimeters long and weighs almost as much as Eddy.
"It's beautiful," he says.
"Glad you like it 'cause there're two more coming."
Sure enough, the process repeats twice more. Eddy corrals the triplets into a triangle.
"Yeah. It will make a good trade."
"Since we're so close I'll tell you. I made a deal with a monastery up ahead. I give them a child to raise, I get some sacred knowledge. Only one child is part of the deal, the other two are extras, just mouths I'll have to feed. Plus they're Laurence's. End their pathetic existence before they hatch into this hellhole of a world."
Eddy rolls one toward the edge of the plateau. It is a ten meter drop, more than enough to kill the unhatched dryptosaur. But he shakes his head and backs away.
"Now, Eddy!"
"I can't kill a child, even yours."
"For God's sake, I don't have time for your moral bullshit."
Tava kicks the egg off the cliff and twists around to Eddy. Their eyes lock as the sound of cracking shell reverberates up.
"Poor Eddy," says Tava, "his conscience won't let him kill the offspring of his family's devourer. I'll raise the other spare if you like, raise it to eat only your kind. I and it will go back and swallow every one of your concert's audience. We'll shit them out and stick your nose in it."
"You can't shock me anymore."
Tava bares her teeth in full.
"Help me, Eddy," she says softly. "I'm still alive in here."
"What are you doing?"
"Reciting what your dear sister Lucy said as she slid down my throat."
"No, I watched you snap her neck before eating her. She was dead."
"That's what I thought too. But she was alive. I heard her inside of me. I felt her squirm."
"Liar!," screams Eddy.
He leaps at Tava who dodges easily. He gets up and tries again. This time she rolls onto her back and catches him between two toes. She flings him across the small plateau. He hits hard and suffers a broken nose. He slowly stands up but waves any new effort away. He looks at her with tear-filled eyes.
"Why won't you just kill me?," cries Eddy. "Please, please, please. Just let me join my family."
"Poor, delusional Eddy. I have no intention of killing you. You have and will provide me with entertainment. You'll be my prisoner for the rest of your natural life."
The monastery bell starts ringing. A bolt of lightning flashes behind Tava, turning her into a black silhouette.
"Back to the subject of your sister," she says, "Lucy was probably still conscious when she fell on top of her dead, digesting brothers."
Eddy launches himself at Tava, landing on her lowered face.
"That's right, Eddy! Go for the eyes!"
He tries to gnaw one of her eyes out. But she is still too quick and very much in control. The flick from a single finger knocks him off. He recovers in an instant and tackles her gut. It, of course, has little more effect than just sending him backwards.
"Now this is more like it. Where has this Eddy been the whole time?"
He ignores her and refocuses on a new target. A serpentine pattern gets him around Tava and to the two eggs. In an adrenaline-fueled feat of strength, he hoists it onto his back and runs toward the plateau's edge.
"Yes, yes, yes!," cheers Tava.
Eddy heaves the egg over the edge. Panting through gritted teeth, he runs back to grab the other one but Tava swats him down with her tail.
"That's enough destruction for now, my pet. We have an appointment to keep."
Eddy calms down. Tava allows him to walk beside her as she concentrates on carrying the egg.
A storm gathers in the distance as they walk into the monastery courtyard. Cloak-wearing monks of every species move calmly across the paving stones. Mammalians who would normally scatter at the sight of Tava take no precautions as their dinosaur brethren have sworn to defend them.
A single monk emerges from behind the bell. He is of Eddy's species but larger and at least three times as old.
"You have what we asked for?," says the monk.
"Right here, Elder," says Tava.
She places the egg on the ground and allows the Elder to inspect it with a tenderness its mother could never show.
"We thank you for the addition to our ranks," says the Elder. "I wish you peace and—"
"No games, I want my reward."
A stone tablet is brought to the Elder Monk who then hands it to Tava.
"That is the culmination of tens of millennia of observation and study by hundreds of generations of monks who dedicated their lives to—"
"I'm leaving but feel free to continue your monologue."
Eddy and Tava return to the rocky plateau where the last few rays of sunlight shine down. She reads the tablet aloud but Eddy does not comprehend.
"You don't understand the significance of what I'm reading, do you?," says Tava.
"Dig sites, cross-reference, live specimen; sounds like gibberish."
"It talks of a past world very different from our own and promises a future that is likewise."
"Things change, and saying so doesn't add anything."
"It's more than that. The world we live in is much much older than anyone realizes—millions of our lifetimes old. How many people have come and gone before us? A million million? A million million million? And for what purpose did they live and die?"
"To become someone's next meal."
"Yes! The boy learns at last! But that's just the past and present, there's still the future. Another million million million suffering and dying for nothing. To eat or be eaten, this is our fate forever and ever."
The rain starts coming down in large and heavy droplets. Eddy stares up with hate in his eyes.
"You're cruel, sadistic and beyond evil," says Eddy.
"Oh, Eddy, you do know how to flatter a girl. But am I not right?"
Eddy hangs his head. His tears mix with the downpour.
"You're right."
"It's about time you wised up. I ate your family in front of you, abused you in every way I could imagine. Honestly, you should be ashamed that it took this long."
"What should I do now?"
"Sing," says Tava caressing Eddy's chin with her forefinger.
Eddy breathes deeply ang begins:
"Here on the mountain, I am repentant. Resplendent in transcendent notion, that life is incident. Birth and death, ignorant to our animal sorrows. So conscience I set ablaze, and put away my hippy days."
"Splendid!," says Tava, nuzzling Eddy.
The thunderstorm dies down enough to hear the distant monastery bell ring its somber tone.
"Hear that, Eddy? It is our wedding bell. You're mine forever."
Tava and Eddy descend the eastern slopes of the Appalachians in half the time it took to get up them, not only because it is easier, or that Tava is no longer laden with eggs, but because she has won.
They reach the three dryptosaurs' pond in a day. Alexander, Montgomery and Laurence are nowhere to be found.
"Smell that air," says Tava, gulping down oxygen as if giving chase. "The weaker sex of my species has a certain revolting stench. If I hadn't needed that egg, I would never have touched Laurence."
Eddy giggles while making a snow angel in her feathers.
"It's too bad your reputation is now so tarnished," he says.
"Maybe not. The trio isn't likely to go around spreading Laurence's shame. We can kill them, easy, and eat the bodies. Have you ever had dryptosaur?"
"Would love to try it."
"I'll save you some breast meat, that's the juiciest part."
Small birds and mammals watching from the few trees climb to yet higher branches on hearing Tava and Eddy's awful plans.
"We have an audience," says Tava. "Why don't you pull out your guitar and play for them."
"Any requests?," says Eddy.
"Something morbid, I suppose. I really don't care. I'm taking a dip in the pond to wash off the blood still caked on my ass from the eggs."
"I'll make our audience fall from the trees in despair."
"Atta boy."
Tava submerges herself in the crystal clear water as Eddy tunes at his guitar to create a more melancholy sound. Something crashes into the nearby bushes and stops his work. A long feathered tail, caked in mud, now sticks out of the far side while a snout, also caked, pokes out near him.
"Psst," says the snout. "Over here. Come on, while she's busy."
Eddy, lacking any desire for self-preservation, stumbles into the bushes. There he finds Laurence, covered in mud from head to toe.
"Masking your scent was a good idea," says Eddy.
"I had to come back and save you," says Eddy.
"Because you're the voice of Bad Litter—"
"They're all dead if you haven't noticed."
"Sorry, sorry, sorry. I didn't mean to dig that sorrow back up."
"No sorrow. I accept the fate that our weakness brought on."
"Lucille's had nine uninterrupted days to mess with your head. That's more torture than anyone should receive. But come with me and I swear we'll reverse the damage."
"You know, Tava and I were just talking about you. Let me go get her."
Laurence turns Eddy back around. Though gentle, he still manages to take a chunk of the didelphodon's fur off. Laurence now sees how patchy his former idol's coat is, how bloodshot and crazy are his eyes, how little flesh clung to his bones. Eddy was a walking corpse.
"There's no saving you," whispers Laurence to himself.
Eddy's neck snaps even easier than Laurence had expected. The dryptosaur weeps as he wraps his idol's little body in the Bad Litter t-shirt and buries him in a hastily dug grave. Atop the dirt clods he lays Eddy's guitar so that "For our little rock star, Eddy, love Mom and Dad," faces upward and serves as epitaph.
"Go now," says Laurence, "be with your family in heaven."
Splashing water sounds Tava's emergence, but Laurence tiptoes away without raising her alarm. Ten minutes later and far away, he hears her roar in defeat.
submitted by Morzo_Voidmaster to shortstories [link] [comments]

2023.03.25 23:11 ensluck 😵‍💫 Good week for IRL NFT events, bad week elsewhere

Good week for IRL NFT events, bad week elsewhere

Happy Spring!
We’re bringing you the news and articles of interest from our own editorial and from across the web. Without further ado, let’s do this.

In the News

The first-ever physical NFT retail store just opened in Dubai, selling digital art, physical corollaries, and a 3D-scanner booth to create your personalized avatar (picture a steroidal airport security booth).
Sexy OpenSea competitor Blur is coming under scrutiny for misrepresenting its sales volume, considering the suspicious fact that Blur has less than one-third of the users and nearly 4x in sales volume. An initial investigation by CryptoSlam uncovered nearly $600MM worth in wash trades.
As Meta’s ferocious layoffs and “year of efficiency” continue, the company has given up its mission to bring NFTs to Facebook and Instagram in order “to focus on other ways to support creators, people, and businesses.”
Beeple finally opened the quintessential digital art nerd mecca.
The Father of Digital Art is John Whitney Sr., an experimental composer who learned how to use computers while serving during WWII. Ten years after the war, Whitney bought some “wartime surplus” computers and began experimenting with animation, resulting in Catalog, an animation used to conclude his animator’s reel.

Top Tweet

The latest AI exhibit, curated by Andrei Riabovitchev, blew up on Twitter this week.

Crypto art totally changed the way digital art is experienced and appreciated. And it’s also transforming every other art form.

Unlockable NFTs create a route for photography to bridge its dual nature as both endlessly reproducible and yet traditionally tied to its physicality.
Sculptors are pushing their physical pieces into the digital and their digital into the physical.
Performing artists who adapted to Instagram and then the fully digitized lockdown are turning those learnings toward a new tradition of tokenized performance.
And street art is being remade with and as augmented reality while finding footing in the metaverse and NFT marketplaces in dozens of permutations.

Creator Spotlight

📷Interview with Meditative 3D Artist Mazor »
Mazor’s meditative 3D art makes space for contemplation with slow-moving abstractions, soft edges and colors, and minimalist scenery.📷Interview with Crypto Poet Pierre Gervois »
Crypto-poet and visual artist Pierre Gervois uses textual minimalism to evoke in viewers’ minds the visual maximalism of the scenes he wishes to create.


AI Metaverse (by Curator Andrei Riabovitchev) »
AI artists are emerging as a new breed of creators who use machine learning to generate novel and often surprising works, challenging our perceptions of creativity with a powerfully augmented imagination paired with personal taste and vision.Travel Now »
Through a variety of mediums, including photography, painting, and mixed media, this exhibit celebrates the joy of travel and the ways in which it can enrich our lives
submitted by ensluck to MakersPlace [link] [comments]

2023.03.25 23:05 VietRooster New Music Friday: March 24th, 2023

❓ "this seems intriguing after a cursory look"
⭐ "im interested in this for one reason or another"
❤️ "ive been waiting for weeks, months/i'm absolutely in love with this"
Caroline Rose - The Art of Forgetting
Label: New West
Genre: Indie Rock, Indie Folk, Neo-Psychedelia
Black Country, New Road - Live at Bush Hall
Label: Ninja Tune
Genre: Art Rock, Progressive Pop, Chamber Pop, Post-Rock
Liturgy - 93696
Label: Thrill Jockey
Genre: Avant-Garde Metal, Black Metal, Glitch, Chamber Music
Label: AWAL
Genre: Experimental Hip Hop, Hardcore Hip Hop, Jazz Rap
Lucinda Chua - YIAN
Label: 4AD
Genre: Ambient Pop, Chamber Pop, Singesongwriter
Lankum - False Lankum
Label: Rough Trade
Genre: Irish Folk Music, Drone, Avant-Folk
Depeche Mode - Memento Mori
Label: columbia
Genre: Synthpop, Electro-Industrial, Darkwave
Navy Blue - Ways of Knowing
Label: Def Jam
Genre: Conscious Hip Hop, East Coast Hip Hop
Parannoul - After the Night (Live)
Label: n/a
Genre: Shoegaze, Emo, Post-Rock
Kate Davis - Fish Bowl
Label: n/a
Genre: Indie Pop, Indie Rock, Neo-Psychedelia
Kele (of Bloc Party) - The Flames pt. 2
Label: !K7
Genre: Art Rock, Indie Rock
The HIRS Collective - We're Still Here
Label: Get Better
Genre: Queercore, Powerviolence
Purling Hiss - Drag On Girard
Label: n/a
Genre: Garage Rock, Power Pop
Secret Machines - The Moth, The Lizard, And The Secret Machines
Label: n/a
Genre: Alternative Rock, Space Rock Revival, Indie Rock
The Reds, Pinks & Purples - The Town That Cursed Your Name
Label: n/a
Genre: Indie Pop, Jangle Pop
Label: Sub Pop
Genre: Electro-Industrial, Deconstructed Club, Industrial Hip Hop
Grecco Romank - Wet Exit
Label: n/a
Genre: Industrial Techno, Maximalist Post-Empire Themed Dungeon Power Techno
Noble Rot (Alex Edkins of Metz / Graham Walsh of Holy Fuck) - Heavenly Bodies, Repetition, Control
Label: n/a
Genre: Post-Punk, Electronic
The Natural Lines - The Natural Lines
Label: Bella Union
Genre: Indie Rock
Jilk - Syrup House
Label: Castles in Space
Genre: Post-Rock, Experimental Electronic
Night Hikes - Perfect Wonder (EP)
Label: n/a
Genre: Psychedelic Pop
Phoneboy - Moving Out
Label: n/a
Genre: Indie Rock, Indie Pop
Zohra - Murder in the Temple
Label: American Dreams
Genre: Synthpop, Goth Pop
Heartworms - A Comforting Notion (EP)
Label: Speedy Wunderground
Genre: Post-Punk, Gothic Rock, Industrial Rock
Softcult - See You In The Dark (EP)
Label: Easy Life
Genre: Shoegaze, Dream Pop
Benny Sings - Young Hearts
Label: Stones Throw
Genre: Indie Pop, Synth Funk, Yacht Rock
Angel Bat Dawid - Requiem for Jazz (live)
Label: n/a
Genre: Avant-Garde Jazz, Spiritual Jazz
Nickel Creek - Celebrants
Label: Thirty Tigers
Genre: Progressive Bluegrass
Arooj Aftab, Vijay Iyer, Shahzad Ismaily - Love In Exile
Label: Verve
Genre: Chamber Jazz, Ghazal
Matt Corby - Everything’s Fine
Label: n/a
Genre: Contemporary Folk, Indie Rock, Neo-Soul
Kid Moxie & NINA - Lust (EP)
Label: Italians Do It Better
Genre: Synthpop, Synthwave
CATT - Change
Label: Listenrecords
Genre: Singer-songwriter
Kool Keith & Real Bad Man - Serpent
Label: n/a
Genre: East Coast Hip Hop, Abstract Hip Hop
Juno - Myriad Path
Label: Jazzland Norway
Genre: Jazz, Indie Pop
Exploring Birdsong - Dancing in the Face Of Danger (EP)
Label: Long Branch
Genre: Art Rock, Art Pop
The Bouncing Souls - Ten Stories High
Label: Pure Noise
Genre: Skate Punk, Pop Punk
Annabel Lee - Drift
Label: Howlin' Banana
Genre: Garage Rock
Andy Loebs - Hyperlink Anamorphosis
Label: n/a
Genre: Digital Fusion, Progressive Electronic
Resa Saffa Park - Madness. Let Me In!
Label: Unity
Genre: Singer-songwriter
Dick Stusso - S.P.
Label: n/a
Genre: Singer-Songwriter, Rock
LVRA - soft like steel (EP)
Label: Eastern Margins
Genre: Electronic, Hyperpop, Alt-Pop
Hysterical Love Project - Lashes
Label: Motion Ward
Genre: Dream Pop, Downtempo
The Black Cat's Eye - The Empty Space Between A Seamount And Shock​-​Headed Julia
Label: n/a
Genre: Neo-Psychedelic, Prog Rock, Space Rock
Cecile McLorin Salvant - Mélusine
Label: Nonesuch
Genre: Vocal Jazz, Nu Jazz
Xysma - No Place Like Alone
Label: Svart
Genre: Hard Rock, Alternative Metal
Semaphore - I Need a Reason to Stay
Label: n/a
Genre: Shoegaze
Endless, Nameless - Living Without
Label: Silent Pendulum
Genre: Math Rock, Noise Rock, Blackgaze
O Gajo - Não Lugar
Label: n/a
Genre: Indie Folk
Spicy Dreams - You Me You Us
Label: n/a
Genre: Dream Pop, Alternative Pop
WMD - Deliquesce
Label: n/a
Genre: Chillwave, Chiptune, Ambient
Lana Del Rey - Did You Know That There's A Tunnel Under Ocean Blvd
Label: n/a
Genre: Singesongwriter, Traditional Pop, Alt-Pop, Chamber Pop
SKAAR - Mad Woman, Pt. 1 (EP)
Label: Warner Norway
Genre: Singer-songwriter
Luke Combs - Gettin' Old
Label: Sony
Genre: Contemporary Country
Myke Towers - LA VIDA ES UNA
Label: n/a
Genre: Reggaetón, Latin Pop
Label: Toy's Factory
Genre: Alternative Metal, Trance Metal
Meg Myers - TZIA
Label: Sumerian
Genre: Alternative Rock, Alt-Pop, Electropop
ROSALÍA & Rauw Alejandro -
Label: Columbia
Genre: Reggaetón, Latin Pop, Bolero
Label: Epic
Genre: Hardcore Hip Hop, West Coast Hip Hop
6LACK - Since I Have A Lover
Label: LVRN
Genre: Alternative R&B, Neo-Soul, Trap
Label: Warner Brasil
Genre: Pop, Contemporary R&B, Funk carioca
TisaKorean - Let Me Update My Status
Label: n/a
Genre: Southern Hip Hop, Snap, Crunk
Kota the Friend x Statik Selektah - To See A Sunset
Label: ShowOff
Genre: East Coast Hip Hop
Oliver Francis - OLIVER’S REVENGE
Label: n/a
Genre: Trap, Cloud Rap
BigBabyGucci - Colors
Label: n/a
Genre: Pop Rap, Contemporary R&B, Trap
Jae Skeese - Abolished Uncertainties
Label: Drumwork
Genre: East Coast Hip Hop, Boom Bap
Label: n/a
Genre: West Coast Hip Hop, Trap, Jazz Rap
August Burns Red - Death Below
Label: SharpTone
Genre: Melodic Metalcore, Progressive Metal
Fall Out Boy - So Much (For) Stardust
Label: Fueled By Ramen
Genre: Alternative Rock, Pop Rock
Ne Obliviscaris - Exul
Label: Season of Mist
Genre: Progressive Metal, Melodic Death Metal
Ov Sulfur - The Burden Ov Faith
Label: Century Media
Genre: Deathcore, Symphonic Metal, Metalcore
Shores of Null - The Loss of Beauty
Label: Spike
Genre: Progressive Metal, Death Doom Metal
Acid King - Beyond Vision
Label: Blues Funeral
Genre: Stoner Metal, Heavy Psych
The Turin Horse - Unsavory Impurities
Label: Invisible Order
Genre: Noise Rock, Post-Metal, Mathcore, Dark Jazz
XALPEN - The Curse of Kwányep
Label: Black Lodge
Genre: Black Metal
Zoromor - The Monolith
Label: Via Nocturna
Genre: Black Metal
Dawn Ray'd - To Know the Light
Label: Prosthetic
Genre: Black Metal, Melodic Black Metal
Floor Jansen - Paragon
Label: n/a
Genre: Pop Rock, Symphonic Rock
Forcefed Horsehead - Monoceros
Label: n/a
Genre: Grindcore, Death Metal
Iron Walrus - Tales Never Told
Label: Apostasy
Genre: Sludge Metal
Morass of Molasses - End All We Know
Label: n/a
Genre: Stoner Metal
Woe Unto Me - Along the Meandering Ordeals, Reshape the Pivot of Harmony
Label: M-Theory
Genre: Funeral Doom Metal, Death Doom Metal
submitted by VietRooster to indieheads [link] [comments]

2023.03.25 22:29 BigDogDeWald Singer 211G166 Walking Foot - Cincy OH

Yo! Just wanted to post here in case anyone in Cincinnati is looking for a walking foot sewing machine. I am parting ways with mine because I don’t use it enough and need the space back. Hoping one of you all can put this thing to work! If you’re interested shoot me a message.
submitted by BigDogDeWald to myog [link] [comments]

2023.03.25 22:01 skfoto Miele Scout RX2 robot vacuum immediately returns to base

Hello, wondering if anyone here can help me as a google search was completely useless.
We have a Scout RX2 robot vacuum that has been acting oddly. The last couple times we’ve used it it’s only been vacuuming about half the space it should (two rooms and a stair landing, about 500 square feet).
Today when we started it, it vacuumed about a 5 square foot area in the vicinity of the base, then immediately went back to the base and stopped. We factory reset it twice and it’s still doing it.
I tried starting it on the opposite side of the area we want it to clean and it ran normally for about 20 minutes, then attempted to find the base after only cleaning about half of the area.
The base has been in the same spot for over a year and the vacuum has always worked perfectly before this.
Does anyone know what's going on and how to fix it? Miele's troubleshooting guide has nothing about this.
Edit: I opened up and thoroughly cleaned every user-serviceable part on the machine. Deepest cleaning it’s ever had. It is now working perfectly. Hope this helps if someone else ever has the same problem and finds this thread.
submitted by skfoto to Miele [link] [comments]

2023.03.25 20:59 DevilsChurn How to YOU flunk the "girl test"?

This really is a question for the over-40s, as we grew up in a very different landscape where males and females were concerned - especially evidenced by the disparity of our respective rights (or, in our case, lack thereof) and treatment by society.
By the time I was in my 30s I realised that I was significantly different from most other women, and a whole lot more like my male friends, in ways that - at least at the time - were considered stereotypical.
So I used to tell people that I "flunked the girl test" on certain subjects. Interestingly enough, some female friends of mine similarly flunked. One of them was later diagnosed with autism, which leads me to wonder just how common this phenomenon is.
Here are four ways that immediately come to mind about my "failures":
1 - As a kid, I much preferred playing with Hot Wheels over Barbies
(Except when I was learning how to sew - then I liked experimenting on garment construction through the doll clothes.)
But mainly I was a massive "tomboy" who played a lot of sports - even full-contact American football with my brother and his friends as a teenager - and grew up to be a comparatively butch straight woman who used to go into mosh pits (until a serious injury took me out of them in my mid-30s), and who still loves the weight room, working on my house, and wreaking havoc in my yard with the chainsaw every Summer.
Thanks to spending so much time as a classical musician and donning the "concert drag" (the signature long black dress) required for performances, I still liked dressing up for special occasions (and, now and then, just because it made me feel good) - but my default garb is comfortable and rugged.
2 - I HATE shopping!!! (bookstores and hardware stores excepted)
I've always hated it.
Interestingly enough, everyone else in my immediate family loathed it too - with the surprising exception of my father, who inherited some bizarre gene for shopping mania from his family. He once dragged me on a shopping trip, several hours into which I finally complained that my feet hurt, and could we please stop? - whereupon he marched me into the nearest shoe store and bought me a more comfortable pair.
3 - I hate weddings
As far as I'm concerned, if you're crazy enough to get married, then City Hall is just fine. I liked the lack of fuss, and considered it only appropriate - after all, I went there to get divorced as well.
I can understand if the respective immediate families want the chance to get acquainted with the strangers with whom they're destined to share frosty silences over holiday dinner tables in the future - but a small gathering on or near the day of the ceremony itself should suffice to accomplish that.
Otherwise, if you want to have a knees up for your friends and extended family, why not do it a few months later, once you've settled/had a honeymoon/decided you're not headed straight for divorce court with buyer's remorse? Go all out if you want - just please don't involve a huge production around the getting married itself. It's vulgar, it's stressful for all involved, and in the end no one is happy.
4 - I think the concept of "flirting" should be outlawed
Of course we autists are absolute failures at flirting - or, at least this one is, on the handful of occasions that deliberately I tried it. Unfortunately, I've had myriad experiences where I thought I was being merely friendly and chatting with someone, only to later be accused of flirting (though that sometimes happens with NT women as well, I understand).
I've really gotten into it with some male friends in the past about the morality of flirting. I consider it wholly unethical - especially when the man doing it is married or otherwise attached, and is merely "entertaining himself" with some positive female attention.
Especially in the two years of my - at first voluntary, then desperately involuntary - celibacy after I was divorced in my 30s, I was caught on the back foot numerous times by men flirting with me. Either I wasn't interested and felt threatened by their behaviour, or I was interested, only to find that they weren't single (despite initially lying about it in response to direct questioning from me) - whereupon I felt not only humiliated by them, but furious with them for leading me on, and essentially using me emotionally to prop up their egos in the process.
I had a friend who loved to flirt, and saw no harm in it - even when I tried to explain how he was playing with women's feelings for his own entertainment (he honestly thought that it was just a fun, casual "game" that both parties entered into without taking it seriously). Years later, he lost his job because of a sexual harassment complaint.
Let me add that there was a qualitative difference between the type of friendliness that I considered innocent but which was confused with flirting, and what a lot of these men were doing. Never mind the looks, the tone of voice and general body language they displayed - the content of the conversation was wildly divergent from that of my friendly interchanges.
For example, the flirty guys would ask me fairly personal questions and make vaguely "romantically suggestive" remarks ("we ought to go to _______", "perhaps I ought to take you to ________", or asking me if I'm free in the coming weekend - indications that would lead me to conclude that I might be asked out on a date).
I, on the other hand, have been accused of flirting while, for example, comparing notes on different brands of flooring with my neighbour. (All I can say is, if that's what a guy considers flirting, I can't imagine what he calls foreplay.)
5 - I never got the memo that it's a woman's rôle to prop up male egos
I used to attribute this in large part to having the practically unheard-of (especially for women of our generation) experience of growing up in a household where my mother was the main breadwinner, who worked even longer hours than my father, and around whose profession the entire household revolved (e.g., when we could go on holiday, when we had to be quiet because she had been on call all night and was napping, even if and when we were allowed to answer the phone).
In fact, when I first went to school, I considered equality with boys to be a step down, but I was willing to be generous in the spirit of fair play. Needless to say, this attitude did not serve me well academically, professionally or in my personal life.
It was literally beaten into me over the years what was expected of me as a student, worker, friend, partner, etc as a female interfacing with a male "superior" (even when they technically did not hold a "superior" position); but, try as I might to swallow my bile (and pride) to attempt to fulfil this rôle, my insincerity evidently shone through on every occasion - much, of course, to my further detriment.
So, those are some of the ways that I flunk the "girl test".
How did you not "measure up" at being properly feminine and/or "girly" when you were growing up - and how much of the whole "girl business" did you think was ridiculous and beneath notice? Do you believe that this disadvantaged you in your life?
submitted by DevilsChurn to weirdoldbroads [link] [comments]

2023.03.25 20:50 Agile_Bread_4143 New quilt top finally finished- Scrappy Irish Chain

New quilt top finally finished- Scrappy Irish Chain
I have been working on this since early January and so glad to be done with the piecing! Each scrappy block has 81 2.5 inch squares in a 9x9 pattern. I did not enjoy all that piecing. I am going to rent time on a long arm machine at a local store once the fabrics for the back come in and I will post the pics of it fully finished when I get that all done. The pattern is called Scrappy Irish Chain and I did a sew-along with Cori Yoder on her YouTube channel.
submitted by Agile_Bread_4143 to quilting [link] [comments]

2023.03.25 20:13 hannah_joline What should I know before buying a vintage sewing machine?

My cheap “beginner” sewing machine has finally died and I am looking to replace it with something sturdier. I don’t need a lot of the features new modern machines have. There is a Bernina 830 for sale in my area that I am interested in, but for some reason it’s making me nervous. It’s apparently working well and I have found a shop that works on them if I need anything fixed.
Based on all of my research so far, I think this is the way to go. Is there anything I need to know before I buy it? Anything specific I should ask the seller? Any other advice or things to consider?
submitted by hannah_joline to vintagesewing [link] [comments]

2023.03.25 20:04 RitzyBiscuit Need help choosing a computerized sewing machine

Hello everyone! I’m very new to machine sewing (my whole life I’ve just done basic hand sewing on small projects) but I would like to get more into toy/plushie making to give as gifts to my friends’ children, as well as completing some small side projects (maybe a quilt one day, mostly sculptural sewing and toys).
I am looking to cache in on the Brother sale going on in my country for the month of March so it’s time to make a decision lol. I am specifically looking for a computerized machine that is beginner friendly but also reliable and has room to let me try out new things (bonus points if it has embroidery functions).
At this time I am between the Brother Sc9500 and the Brother CE1010 as they are both in my price range with the sale (under $300 CAD). I looked at a few “top 10 machines of 2023” type articles but none of the brother models reviewed are available in Canada which is pretty weird.
Would love to know if anyone has any thoughts on either model. My instincts say to go for the more expensive model to take full advantage of the sale (and because theoretically shouldn’t a more expensive machine be better?)
Looking forward to hearing from you all!
submitted by RitzyBiscuit to sewing [link] [comments]

2023.03.25 19:47 Adam-best Ruffler Sewing Machine Presser Foot Saves you time and energy making tulles on petticoats, embellishments on pillows, curtains, and towels, and pleated bands to skirts and sleeves. Comes with 4 frequency setting that tuck every 12, 6, 1 stitch or not at all! Designed in a universal size that

submitted by Adam-best to BestDealsOfTheDay_ [link] [comments]

2023.03.25 19:25 Johnny_Boy398 Hans Hüttig and Arfikareich facelift proposal (Part 1)

Hans Hüttig and Arfikareich facelift proposal (Part 1)
Oh boy, here I go writing another 30 pages of unsourced fanfiction!
Good old Hans Hüttig: as legacy as legacy TNO content gets. From the independent foreign policy to the Himmler driven 4D chess insanity, to the flawless SS coup the story of Hüttig and German Africa is practically crying out for a rework. It is simplistic, 2 dimensional, and no longer in line with TNOs development philosophy. And frankly its boring. I think we can do better.
But despite all that, Hans and what he does narratively is also utterly necessary. The south africa war is the first piece of “major” content for post-GCW Germany and the US playthrough. The collapse of the Reichsstaat kickstarts africa content, and trying to balance three more enormous RKs into German gameplay would be all but impossible. Hüttig is currently the linchpin on which all african content south of Cameroon rests.
So, rather than redesign all of south/central africa from the ground up, or try to work through a increasingly unworkable bit of legacy content, I think it would be best to instead integrate Hüttig as well as the sudden loss/collapse of the German african holdings into modern TNO as best can be done. And in this post I will tell you my proposed new story of Huttig and his state, from bloodhound to generalissimo to cornered animal to death. If that sounds interesting to you, then keep reading :)
(FYI this is part of my larger project of proposing an expanded rework/facelift of the current African content. The important parts for this post are that the Reichskommissars are Carl Krogmann for Zentralafrika, Bernhard Ruberg for Süd-West Afrika, and by 1962 Theodor Eicke for Ostafrika. Everything else should be explained in post.)

Nazi propaganda poster reminding and boasting of their old colonies. Though Hitler was always uninterested in Africa most of his nationalist and revanchist supporters thought otherwise, and wanted very much to regain their old territory. As German boots marched from Iran to London to Moskow, the dreams of these men were allowed to go wild: can the new master of Europe truly deserve the title if he is not also the master of Africa?
In order to answer what Hüttig and German Africa should look like, we must first answer how Germany came to control Africa in the first place. After all Hitler was apathetic towards the African continent, always in favor of pushing his mission to colonize eastern Europe. Yet Germany takes over all of central africa: why? For this we must delve into forbidden knowledge: how Germany won WW2. We know from leaks that Italian East Africa never fully fell to the allies: that a guerrilla campaign succeeded in bogging down allied forces until Italo German reinforcements came through egypt. But it seems unlikely to me that Axis forces would have gone much further south than that: the soviet and middle eastern fronts demanded the men, and the capture of the suez had been accomplished. On the allies side men were needed for the defense of the home isles and operation torch. As such, the German occupation of africa would take place after the wars end.
Operation Torch: the opening of a new front in west africa via amphibious landings in Morocco and Algeria would have still gone forward. Just as in OTL it would have been done with the cooperation of anti-axis elements in the vichy france army/administration in africa, but unlike OTL the attack would not have gone nearly so smoothly. With Germany continuing to win in the east the french commander in Africa François Darlan remains committed to collaboration, and the allies fail to take Algiers by coup. The French forces in africa are split between Darlan and Charles Mast, and the battle for french africa devolves into a messy civil war. In the end the north of french africa, supported by the Germans and Vichy France, remains loyal to the collaborator government while the south, via the bribes and invasions of Free france with British assistance, falls under Degauls control. The battle for Algeria meanwhile will devolve into a bloody stalemate, with American troops being supplied through a captured Morocco and British Gibraltar fighting German troops supplied through Tunisia. The balance is finally broken when Spain intervenes on the side of the Axis. In return for control over Morocco and German economic assistance, Franco joined with what he now considered the winning side and fatally damaged allied supply into north africa as well as critically weakening the british navy. Seeing that their attack had failed, the allies made a fighting withdrawal back to Britain, where they scrambled to defend the Home islands.
As the Americans suffered reverses in the Pacific and the Soviet Union began to fall apart, allied morale began to collapse. For our story this has important implications for what remained of allied controlled Africa. In South Africa Jan Smuts had to resort to increasingly authoritarian measures against pro German sabotage and a surging pro-neutrality movement. North and South Rhodesia saw a sharp upswing in pro-federation opinion and an increase in war weariness more generally. Though initially enthusiastic and furnishing large numbers of volunteers, the British Africans now saw the probable fall of the mother country and wondered if there was a way out. The Belgian Congo, held by free Belgium forces, faced similar issues while British held South-West africa saw a Nazi insurgency spring up. In this atmosphere of fear and pessimism several actions were taken: fearing that they would soon be forced into isolation the two Rhodesias and Nyasaland elected to confederate, seeking strength in unity and numbers, while British Uganda sought to make room for an expected flow of refugees. The Bechuanaland Protectorate was occupied by South African forces. But no one declared independence or sought to make a separate peace.

Rough map of Africa at the end of the war, but before negotiations. I don't have photoshop, so let me paint a picture in words: Anglo-Egypt all the way down to IEA is occupied by Italy. Northern and southern Rhodesia are confederated with Nyasaland. Bechuanaland is occupied by South Africa and southern French Africa is controlled by the Free French. All other borders should be accurate.
Instead the fate of Africa was decided where it so often had been: at diplomatic tables in Europe. Though the Axis armies had failed to conquer all of Britain the atomic bombing of Hawaii sapped the last of Anglo-American resolve, and a ceasefire was signed on July 16th, 1945. In the ensuing negotiations German dominance over africa was decreed in the manner typical of the Nazi’s: bold, broad declarations of conquest with very little prior planning. The main forces pushing for this was the Office of colonial policy under Rudolf Asmis, in alliance with German business concerns who saw great potential for profit in the dark continent. Hitler by this point was fully engaged with constructing his new order in eastern Europe, and largely left questions of african policy to others. This lenience, as well as the general atmosphere of triumphalism, allowed the ambitions of the colonialists to run wild.
The former German colonies of Cameroon, South-west Africa and East Africa were handed over without concession, while Belgian, British and some French holdings were signed away for mere promises to “respect the lives and properties of European settlers”. Kenya was transferred to Italian East Africa. The only area which retained some semblance of autonomy was the newly formed Federation of Rhodesia and Nyasaland. Here Germany would grant internal political autonomy and even the right to maintain a limited semi-independent armed force in return for economic concessions, the right to garrison the federation with German troops, the extension of anti-jewish and racial purity laws into the federation, and an annual payment from the rhodesians to cover the costs of German occupation in the federation. As such Rhodesia officially ceased to be a British colony and became a German protectorate, but much of the pre-war structure remained. Finally the Germans also annexed Bechuanaland, but here they hit a snag: the south africans refused to withdraw their occupation of the area, and unilaterally annexed it. Even as the policy of neutrality became the only possible course of action, Jan Smuts refused to cede yet more British territory to Germany. Smuts would sign the peace treaty, but in his last days leading the south african government he would do all in his power to keep South Africa out of German hands. For their part the Germans briefly considered seizing the area militarily, but were talked out of the idea by their allies in the South African political scene, who believed they were on the verge of winning the government via elections.
One final hurdle needed to be overcome however: the old governments needed to be evicted from the territory now claimed by the reich. Hitler’s apathy towards africa and insistence that demobilization continue at a swift pace meant that the colonial ministry would never get the troop numbers it requested: the issue of overextension was present from the beginning of German Africa. In many areas this was not an issue: British Africans no longer had any stomach to fight so long as their rights were respected, and in Sud-west africa the German population welcomed their new masters with open arms. For the vast majority of the black natives, the news that the flag was changing yet again was met with a shrug: this was hardly the first time land in africa had changed hands, and one European was assumed to be much the same as another. The African intelligentsia however was nearly in a panic, fearing for their positions and lives. But at this point modern native political organizations had only just begun to form, and even fewer had real experience in warfare: the black africans would not yet offer united resistance. The only real resistance would come from the Free french and belgians. Though it took months, the promise of respecting settlor institutions and the decisive defeat of Free French forces in Gabon ultimately won over most of the new territory. The Belgians had been pacified, and the French were forced to retreat far into the north where the Spanish, Portuguese and French State promised to finish them off. So it was that by the end of 1946, Africa looked something like this:

Africa in 1946. Though the Portuguese colonies would later be taken and Rhodesia placed under tighter oversight from Ostafrica, these basic divisions remain in place at game start. (Namimia=Sud-West Afrika, all are in their base RK states instead of their post collapse names as seen here.)
After this many things happen: the northern border of Zentralafrika is pushed back by native revolt, the free french are saved by iberian interference and American support, the portuguese colonies of Angola and Mozambique are invaded and added to the kommissariats, and Rhodesia is pressured to fall further under Ost-african suzerainty. But this post is about Hüttig and the Reichsstaat, so let's stay focused on that.
Hans Benno Hüttig was experienced in East Africa, having fought there in WW1, but was even more experienced in the German concentration camp and prison system. During the war he gained a reputation for being a ruthless troubleshooter, suitable for fixing whatever issues he came across and being ideologically devoted. And when he arrived in Ostafrika in 1951, he found a situation in dire need of fixing. The second Reichskommissar Albert Hoffmann had bumbled the colony into a massive slave revolt, with the garrison keeping control of the urban settlements but large parts of the countryside rendered unsafe for German travel. For this Hoffmann would be the only Reichskommisar to be recalled from office, and was replaced by an SS man: Theodor Eicke. The Eicke administration had only one goal: the pacification of Ostafrika by any means necessary. To this end the new Reichskommisar leveraged his old SS connections to bring in some trusted hands, and among them was Hans Hüttig.
Hüttig would spend the next decade growing intimately acquainted with the Reich’s african territories, and with all the dangers and rot therein. In keeping with his reputation in Germany Hüttig proved to be a merciless and harsh man who would seek to “rectify” any issues he found. Steadily rising up the SS hierarchy as well as gaining the trust of Eicke for being one of the few uncorrupt men in Africa, he quickly became known as East Africa’s bloodhound. He was empowered to seek out and destroy dissidents, often chasing his prey beyond Ostafrikan borders into the other Kommissariats, and even into neutral territory such as South Africa. Additionally he was instrumental in advising the “African system” of concentration/labodeath camps in East Africa. In all this he was protected by his patron Kommisar Eicke, and became a figure of hatred, envy, and fear. By 1962 Hüttig is 68 years old, and many looked forward to his retirement. But they had no such luck. Though Hüttig did resign his field commands he was tapped by Eicke as the head of security in Ostafrika: a job which he accepts in early 1962. The white devil had won his prize.
But Hüttig's rise has been due more to his political reliability and personal ties than his actual competence. Though hardly a moron it is clear that he has been promoted beyond his capabilities. He is unimaginative, relies heavily on protocol and “statistical methods”, and his personal political radicalism makes him see enemies where none exist, and gets in the way of cooperation with other forces. Though successful in suppressing several native revolts his methods have caused damage even to white lives and property in affected areas, and have not prevented later flare ups in the same region. Though his network of camps have successfully pacified parts of east africa it has come at the cost of high expense and economic stagnation. Even his battlefield record is mixed: though he performed well enough against poorly equipped native revolts, his SS forces performed poorly in the war against Cameroon. Finally, and perhaps most damningly, his system of fortified villages and punishment camps has not succeeded in ending the state of insurgency in Ostafrika. Though all African RKs have resistance movements to contend with Ostafrikan resistance is without a doubt the most damaging and intractable, despite the ever escalating cycle of violence. only the Tanganyika coast and Bouhlerstadt can be said to be truly pacified and under German control, with other areas either in a state of low intensity warfare or administered by autonomous Europeans.

Philipp Bouhler (right). A career long member of the Reich Colonial Office, he was the first Kommissar of Ostafrika, when it was in its original, smaller form. Recalled to Germania after the death of the prior head, he now acts as the highest authority on African colonial matters. However he and his office are weak: unable to thrive in the cutthroat politicking of the NSDAP, the colonial office has consistently been outmaneuvered by the foreign office, business syndicates and the SS. By 1962 only Sud-West Afrika truly follows his commands.
In short, Hüttig is seen by most white men in Africa as a grumpy prison warden who has grown too large for his own good, whose inflexible mindset causes almost as much damage as it prevents. For those who have lost their property or status to Hüttig's black band he is a dangerous radical whose witch hunts and blank cheque do nothing to entrench German rule and do much to undermine it. And for the black and Asian Africans whose families he has murdered, whose sons he has enslaved and whose daughters he has tortured, for the vast majority of African men and women Hans Hüttig is the devil himself. A symbol of absolute evil who is hated nearly as much as he is feared.
But for many of his men and the African SS as a whole, Hüttig is the thin black line keeping the barbarians at bay. When a gaggle of naive nuns get themselves kidnaped who is sent to rescue them? Huttig’s men. When some petty chief or mercenary gets delusions of grandeur who is sent to beat out the fire? Huttig’s men. When a flat footed bureaucrat thinks he is above the law and steals from the volk who knocks on his door? Huttig’s men. Without them and Hüttig, they say, Afrika wouldn’t last a year before it dissolves. As such young fanatics see in Hüttig the image which has been cultivated for him: an incorruptible man of iron who one can anchor themselves too in these times of uncertainty. Where others see stupidity they see determination, where others see a lack of foresight they see a man of action. And most importantly this is how Hüttig is increasingly seeing himself: surrounded by such voices and with the weight of the world on his shoulders, how could he not?
In normal circumstances this would be the end of Hüttig's road: he would spend the last years of his career as the right hand man of Eicke, slowly losing control of the massive territory until he retired into obscurity. But this is not the fate destiny has for him: for to the south a fire is burning.
In South Africa the post-war 1948 election did indeed bring the National Party into power, which immediately set about implementing its policy of Apartheid and upholding the status of white supremacy more generally. Additionally they sought to open trade relations with Germany and Japan after having been isolated from these markets by the war. They were soon to be disappointed however: the Japanese had little interest in inviting “foreign competition” into their market, while the Germans insisted that South African desires could only be granted if they integrated into the Pakt more generally. America meanwhile suffered from economic recession and took a dim view of the National Party. With politics interfering the south african economy slowed to a crawl, and other issues began to make themselves known: tensions between the Boer and English populations, the creeping fascistization of the National Party, disagreements over the scope and means of segregation, and continued pressure from black organizations attempting to tear down apartheid all have led to increased tensions within South Africa. The minutiae of this conflict is not worth going into in this post, but suffice to say that the National party is split, and the entire nation threatens to split along with it.

Johannesburg civilians train in small arms, as part of a local political militia. Despite the governments assurances that South Africa is safe and stable, the popular fear of black revolution or simple crime continues to dominate. Reich propagandists and agents, in a rare case of agreement between the colonial and foreign office, have fanned the flames of this fear by supporting those who claim that the National Party is not doing enough to ensure white rule in South Africa.
Hüttig has always been of the opinion that the fate of South Africa would not be decided by votes or speeches, but by blood and steel. For years he has been bitterly disappointed by the South african policy of not permitting him to pursue groups or individuals across the border into south africa, and contends that the reason his policies have only had limited success is because of the softness of South africa, Italian East Africa and Zentralafrika giving fugitives a “safe zone” in which they could escape his wrath. With his rise to leadership of the Ostafrikan SS and head of security this contention has only become more important.
There is very little he can do about the policy of any of these states, but in South Africa the question of fugitives from the north has become a political issue. Since the establishment of Ostafrika and the conquest of the Portuguese colonies there has been a steady stream of migration from the north into south africa, for economic as well as political or social reasons. As bad as the Boers were, they would at least pay you something for your work. Hundreds of thousands have traveled to south Africa either in hopes of making a new life for themselves, or more often to earn money which could be sent back home. And along with these migrants more than a few were political dissidents. The question of what to do with this influx has divided the country: more moderate members of the national party have been happy to exploit this group as cheap labor, willing to work for almost nothing. Liberal whites and several religious groups also wish to maintain the system, as preferable to aiding and abetting Hüttig's reign of terror by capturing his dissidents for him. The ANC, representing black south Africans, has declared itself open to these migrants as well in the name of pan-african solidarity. Finally, the geopolitical situation must also be considered: if South Africa were to intercept and return all the people fleeing German Africa as Hüttig wished it would be tying themselves irrevocably to the German system: unacceptable in the face of the ongoing strategy of neutrality in the cold war. Of course, there are those who say white South Africans should never have become so dependent on black labor, that aligning with Germany is in their best interests, and that not cracking down on this trend is an unacceptable security risk.
The question has come to a head with a bill which would make it law to deport black Africans back north kicking around parliament indecisively. In 1962 the bill is brought to a referendum, and quickly grows to be seen as a referendum on the future course of the nation: will south Africa become tied at the hip to the Germans and follow a more authoritarian path inspired by nazi and fascist successes, or will it maintain its course of controlled democracy and international compromise? But as said before many in the German administration have no faith that a democratic vote will bring south Africa to sense. As such, though they will lean on South Africa to attempt to swing the referendum their way, they are also preparing contingency plans: arming and training more radical groups as well as forging ties with economic barons and other Boer VIPs. If elections will not bring South Africa where it needs to be, perhaps a march on Cape Town will… But Hüttig is not a man to rest on idle hopes: he believes that even this will not be enough, and behind closed doors has advocated for the armed takeover of South Africa, citing the Dutch and the English as nations which could only be brought into the new order through force and arguing that their African cousins would be the same. This is yet another example of his ill-advised radicalism to most, but when the referendum brings South Africa to a state of civil war, he will be seen as a profit. Even a broken clock is right twice a day it seems.
When Hitler dies and the fatherland suddenly has its hands full with the following chaos, German Africa finds itself in a difficult situation: communication with the colonial office is sparse and contradictory. Thousands of German soldiers have been stranded and resupply denied. The financial and material strength of the German colonies has been severely constrained, and as such all three do as one would expect: they hunker down, plan to conserve their strength, and wait for the chaos back home to subside. But their prior actions will not give them this option. Radicalism fostered by the Germans themselves has borne fruit in post-referendum south Africa in the form of violence and riot from all sectors of society. Just as Germany is falling into a succession crisis, South Africa falls into civil war. Initially the Reichskommissars see this as unfortunate, but not something they could afford to get involved in. But poor command over radical officers and units close to the border inevitably draws them closer to the conflict, until finally the report comes in that south African forces attacked an SS group in German territory. Whether this was a case of accidental fire, revenge, or even a false flag from the SS itself is unknown, but the result is inevitable: German boys have been killed and no true Nazi would settle for anything less than a war in response. The RKs intervene in South Africa, despite some reservations. But why worry? The south Africans were divided, weakened by degenerate ideology and outnumbered, German forces would sweep into Cape town in no more than a month. And in the end all of Africa would be under German guidance, finally elevating them from being the eternal black sheep of the empire.

Another reason for German confidence in their \"defensive attack\" was their superiority in armored vehicles, especially tanks. The German tank fleet has been rightfully criticized as overly large considering the state of warfare, but it has benefited the afrikan administrations by giving them a great deal of older models as surplus. Of course Afrika mostly lacks the facilities to repair or replace these machines, but so long as the war does not last longer than a few months this should not matter...
With these thoughts in mind the German forces hastily marched southwards to fulfill their mission of “self defense”. And when they attacked alongside their political allies, they discovered that the enemy was not nearly as weak as they had supposed. Though initially successful anglo and black south africans rallied against the German invasion, and soon the uncoordinated and relatively flimsy German force found itself bogged down, and the OFN having been invited in by their opponents. It was clear: the light “anti-bandit” forces were no match for American tanks, and the three week operation was going to be anything but. The Kommissariats needed to unite, to reform, to strengthen, or else they would come undone before Germany proper could return to them. They needed an African Oberkommando.
Hans Hüttig is not the best choice for generalissimo: he is not trained in the command of large armies, he is broadly disliked and distrusted by the Wehrmacht, and his age is beginning to show. However, he is also the only choice for the position. He alone commands an organization that commonly works across RK lines, Ostafrika is providing the majority of the troops for this war, and without his cooperation the supply chain to the front would be endangered. With no one who clearly outranks the rest and Hüttig having been the only man to seriously plan for a conventional war to the south, it becomes clear that Hüttig's men will accept no one else for the job. The various other armies of German Afrika never had any intention of following the Oberkommando to the letter in any case, and so after a period of resistance they bow to the inevitable: Hüttig is the war master.
As his first act as commander, Hüttig does something surprising, for perhaps the first time in his life: he arms the natives. For years Hüttig had been the staunchest defender of the colonial offices policy of maintaining an all-European armed force, but even he could not deny the math: if German men were going to die in their thousands to the south, then they would need to be replaced by their thousands in the north, and all the conscription in the world would not fix that. Though he still considers the natives unfit for frontline action Hüttig does have experience in turning native against native: the Kapo. The Kapo was a concentration camp prisoner who was given administrative and supervisory tasks in return for privileges in the camp itself. The necessity of this system meant it was already institutionalized in camps across Africa, turning prisoner against prisoner. As such, in order to fill in the gaps behind the lines, this system would be expanded: in return for the promise of a better life, prisoners would be given the option to act as “anti-bandit” forces or as porters bringing material to the front. Of course these units would be commanded by German officers, and deployed in areas they had no personal connections to, but this is still a radical change from the prior policy of tribalization, enslavement or extermination.

Drawing of a European Kapo and his wards. Faced with the ever present issue of manpower even before the war a system of turning the prisoners against each other was necessary. Considering the dire conditions of the camps those willing to sell their souls in return for their food were not hard to find. The issue was to ensure their continued loyalty and diligence. For those who were suspected of falling short, the typical punishment is to simply be stripped of their status and returned to the prisoners to do with as they wish.
The second order of business is to build an arms industry from almost nothing. Throwing financial caution to the wind, Hüttig shall seize relevant property and take out massive loans, and rush the construction of ammunition and other such factories. For this project Otto Förschner will be called to service, having had experience with factory slave labor for years dating back to the V2 program during WW2. The third and final task is the most difficult: corralling and coordinating the armed forces and policy of the other two RKs. While Theodor Eicke is generally in agreement with him, Carl Krogmann of Zentralafrika and Bernhard Ruberg of Sud-West Afrika neither trust nor support him. They were willing to accept the “Kapo” units as a sad necessity, and agreed in abstract that native labor should supply while Europeans should fight, but they are resistant to truly integrating their armed forces with Hüttig. As such Hüttig is forced to rely on the African SS, and on threats more than true consensus.
As the war drags on, all will become more desperate, approving policies they never would have before. For Hüttig this works to his advantage, to a degree. The generals and administrators will fall even more in line as the war situation deteriorates. However it will also force him to desperation: Kapo units will be expanded with penal conscripts and sent to the front, when loans are no longer able to be forced out he will resort to outright confiscation, even the ancient practice of slave raids will be revived to feed the ever-growing war machine. As the number of reliable men available decreases, backline units resort to more terroristic methods, trying to foster fear which will do what their actual strength cannot. Overall, the Afrikan RKs will be run to exhaustion, with ideology and sustainability being increasingly sacrificed in a war that can no longer possibly be worth the cost. But the only thing worse than a pyrrhic victory is a crippling defeat, and so the Germans will have no choice but to fight on.
When Germany rights itself and the new Fuhrer is empowered the efforts of Hüttig will be aided, but his position will be maintained, for there is no war in south Africa. Both America and Germany want to win, but both also want to avoid escalation: Africa is not worth risking nuclear Armageddon for. As such Germany will send supplies, advisors, “volunteers”, air systems and intelligence. But much as America cannot risk an outright declaration of war against the African RKs, Germany cannot risk directly taking over the war effort in Africa. With this final dynamic of German aided RKs and National Party radicals fighting OFN aided national party moderates, the war will see its end. It may end in three ways: The Germans and Boers successfully march to Cape Town and South Africa is reorganized as a One-Party state under the Boar led National Party radicals, both sides are unable to continue fighting and a ceasefire is agreed to, or the African RKs begin to unravel as the war becomes too much for them and Germany is forced into a unilateral ceasefire, giving up much of the south to OFN South Africa. Regardless of the outcome, the RKs will be left badly destabilized and all the leaders will blame everyone else for everything that went wrong, with thinly veiled accusations of treason flying between rivals. Clearly Germany cannot leave Africa as is, and so a conference in Dar es Salaam will be called to discuss current issues in Africa and decide on a new policy, or at least however much of Africa is left after the war. And it is here that Hans Hüttig will take power and become the Master of Afrika

SS-Obergruppenführer Hans Benno Hüttig, posing in front of a newly constructed punishment camp near Dar-es Salam. As Obergruppenführer of the Ostafrikan SS and the head of security in Ostafrika, Hüttig commands the largest number of troops by any single person in Afrika, with Wehrmacht garrisons typically being dispersed. After the South African war, he is without a doubt the most militarily powerful person in Africa, win or loose.
(To be continued tomorrow)
submitted by Johnny_Boy398 to TNOmod [link] [comments]

2023.03.25 19:24 Fuzzy-Cattle913 Day 21

Fell bad this afternoon. great morning at the gym i could of kept going but stopped as my foot hurt a bit. but felt great this morning. afternoon have a smashing headache and food went through my mind for the first time all week. but i said i am having something little and nothing else. so i had a small sandwich 1 slice of bread from a loaf so just a little bigger than a normal size of a slice of bread but not like 2. so a very small sandwich and i really enjoyed it haha but then i cut down my shape shake a little and now just want to sleep. i actually feel good i had it, a very small sandwich then i stopped :). i feel bad because of a headache, i know if i was to binge now tomorrow i would feel bad for over eating. so tomorrow the headache will be gone and i will still be on track with a very good deficit if 2250kcals today :) so i am happy i was able to have something slightly off the plan but then stop straight after :)
Blueberries and protein shake and coffee 200kcals
Coffee 5kcal
Huera, salad, veg, lentils, teaspoon of vegan mayo 300kcals
Hot chocolate x3 150kcals
1 Large slice of bread from loaf, teaspoon of mayo and half pack of huera. sandwich 300kcals
3 quaters of a shape shake 150kcals
2x cans coke zero 0kcals
Total food 1050kcals
Eliptical 3 hours 16 mins 1600kals
Bike machine 40 mins 300kcals
1 hour walk after gym 200kcals
Deficit based on BMR 1250. 2250kals
submitted by Fuzzy-Cattle913 to weight_loss_challenge [link] [comments]

2023.03.25 19:16 by_frozenriver Just dumping a recount, feel free to ignore this.

Man. I'm kind of just laying awake at night and I don't really have anyone to talk to about this. It's 4:30am.
Tonight I went to a comedy show with one of my friends from fight class. It's kind of funny, I bought the tickets a week ago when I got an email saying something like "if you see seven comedy shows at our bar, you'll get a free jug of beer", anyway, I bought the tickets and wanted to go with a friend/date, but he/they literally broke their foot the next day.
So I asked another person I had been on a date with recently (but where it had turned into a friendship), if she wanted to go to this show. Well, literally a day later she started having seizures and is now at home doing a week long EEG from her bedroom (she's an opera singer who has a history of brain tumors and epilepsy).
I asked a friend from fight class if he wanted to go to this show. All seemed well until like 2 hours before the show he messages saying he's going to the hospital because something's up.
Welp, I put a message out on Reddit and one on Facebook, and literally last minute a good mate was like "hey I'm interested, let's go". Amazing.
Fast forward and while I was watching this comedian I had seen before, I couldn't help but feel like i didn't know where I was.
I sat along the wall during the performance tonight, and my friend sat to my right, I'd look at her and for a brief moment I had an outer body experience where I saw myself sitting next to my ex, I was teleported two years into the past. I blink and I'm back in the present day.
Who am I, why am I here, how did I get here? Were the last few years actually real or was it some dream? If it was a dream, why do I have a massive scar on my wrist, and a constant feeling of numbness in the thumb, middle, and ring finger of my left hand? why does my spine feel compressed? and why am I often short of breath? My body can't have really degraded this far so soon, it must be a dream right?
My friend talks to me during the show, and for the life of me I feel dumbfounded that I can't understand what she's saying. Something about a guy named Michael or something, but not me. I smile, nod and give a nice hum. She raises her hand and I give her a high five.
The show ends and I'm pretty tipsy. I go to the bathroom and see someone has written on the wall "u look hot ❤️", damn right I am.
Also, I think I saw someone in the corner of the room with a giant squish mellow or pillow or something, I swear to God it looked like they were hugging a giant baguette.
I drove my friend to the train station and then I head home. But on the way home I feel this immense, heavy sadness. I get a call from a mate in Brisbane, he's just finished wrestling a match. The match sounds like it was quite the ordeal.
I tell him about everything that had happened up until he called. As I'm telling him, I feel weird, it's like I've fallen into the back seat of my mind/eyes, I can see myself driving the car and talking, but it's not me doing it, if that makes sense?
After I finish recounting the night, he says: "My take. The secret to a fulfilling life is to do what makes you anxious. You're standing at the door to that fulfillment, nervous about what's on the other side, and I encourage you to open it."
Yeah. My life makes very little sense at the moment...
submitted by by_frozenriver to self [link] [comments]

2023.03.25 18:56 Banana_Havok [US-TX] [H] Fire emblem engage and extras, animal crossing DLC, and more [W] PayPal

Prices do not include shipping unless specified, but for smaller items are generally around $5.
Only accepting PayPal FF, please see my previous posts for even more feedback on /boardgameexchange.
Fire emblem engage - SEALED. $45 shipped
Fire emblem engage steel cover (no game). $30 shipped
Fire emblem extras: box, poster, hardcover art book, art cards. Game and steel book NOT included
Excellent condition. $55+shipping
Fire Emblem Divine Edition - complete, new - $110+shipping
Animal crossing DLC code: Happy Home Paradise. $15
Other Nintendo collectors items/games:
Mint gameboy color, Teal. Was purchased and briefly used to try the sewing game for gameboy but then stored and untouched. Console is mint, stickers are pristine. All manuals included. Other box has some wear at the edges. $200.
Gameboy color game: Sewing Machine. Cartridge only, clean sticker. Somewhat rare, actual sewing machine is not included. $100.
GBA: Mega Man Battle Network 5: Team Colonel. SEALED. $250.
GBA: Mega Man Battle Network Chip Challenge. SEALED. $450
GBA: Warioland 4. SEALED. $750.
GBA: Classic NES Series Zelda II: The Adventure of Link. CIB, MINT condition. $175.
1998 Nintendo Power Magazine. Pokémon Official Players Guide (Red/Blue). Mint condition with all stickers untouched. I have yet to find a listing on eBay with a copy as pristine as this one. $175
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2023.03.25 18:16 maggie41199 HandHeld Sewing Machine

Hello! I recently bought an handheld sewing machine and I would like to use it to sew the lining for my crochet projects like bags, totes,etc.. Do any of you know if it is possible?!
submitted by maggie41199 to crochet [link] [comments]

2023.03.25 18:08 KiriDomo How do I fix this loose neckline?

How do I fix this loose neckline?
Dress I bought. Has no zippers or buttons so it can't be too tight--I'd rather not have to install any of those. I have some experience with sewing and have a sewing machine, but never with this thin type of fabric.
submitted by KiriDomo to sewing [link] [comments]

2023.03.25 17:55 Last_Article_3501 Singer 401a up and running!

Singer 401a up and running!
I think I am really going to love this one. Machine was destined for the trash. Previous owner passed away. My sister was helping clean out her house and told me about this one. I said, "Sure." I ended up just getting a power cord, zig zag foot, and some thread pins for the top. Otherwise, I just needed to be cleaned and oiled. This might be my new project machine for a while. The real test will be to see how well if FMQ and works with a walking foot. :)
submitted by Last_Article_3501 to SewingMachinePorn [link] [comments]

2023.03.25 17:30 Ghostintherainbow [Question] Sturdiest way to hand-sew pieces onto a plush?

Hi, I hope it's okay to ask this here! I'm working on a plush for a child (he's not super little, but I'm anticipating it's going to get quite a bit of handling/play, so everything needs to be pretty sturdy). 99% of it will be machine-sewn, but the arms are tiny little separate pieces and there isn't really a way to avoid hand-sewing them on.
Is a ladder-stitch with upholstery thread enough to stand up to rough handling? I've made a few plushies before and ladder-stitching seems to hold up pretty well, but I also don't toss them around and drag them everywhere. I was also considering thread-jointing them (too narrow for safety joints); I feel like that might even make them sturdier because they'll be connected by the thread inside the body? Or am I wrong on that?
I feel like I'm overthinking it (after all, they made toys for kids long before machines were invented...) but I really don't want this poor dino to lose his arms. Any advice is appreciated, thank you!
submitted by Ghostintherainbow to plushartists [link] [comments]

2023.03.25 17:12 thatreallyshortchick Welcome to Charlie’s: We’re Under New Management [Part 8]

8:02 a.m.
When I entered Charlie’s this morning, Lacie and Maura were already there. Lacie sat behind the service desk, speaking quickly with her hands while Maura soaked up every word she said.
Lacie had been working with Maura and Gabe to help them harvest the energy supply of Charlie’s. Many customers leave a sort of emotional footprint when they shop here. Since they clearly weren’t going anywhere, Lacie decided to teach them how to harvest the energy from those emotions. It helped them retain memories, better understand the world, and interact with their surroundings. They had been unconsciously doing it since they first appeared here after death, but she was teaching them how to control it.
This lesson seemed a bit different today, though. The 1st thing I heard come out of Maura’s mouth was, “So they no longer do lobotomies, but you all will willing poke holes in your body for fashion?” She reached out and lightly flicked Lacie’s septum piercing while she said “fashion,” making Lacie giggle.
“How underfunded was your asylum if they still did lobotomies?” asked Lacie.
Maura rolled her eyes. “Why do you think I wanted to leave so bad?”
Lacie giggled again before finally acknowledging me. She gave me a kiss on the cheek and wrapped an arm around my waist. “Good morning.”
“Morning,” I responded with a smile. “Hey, Maura.”
“Yo,” she responded.
I walked over to register one and put in my log in code in preparation for the day. Lacie asked if I needed her help with anything, but I told her they could keep doing their thing. Before I had even walked off, however, history class was abruptly put on hold. Our attention went toward the sliding glass doors as two women entered, one younger and one older.
The gears in my head began to turn as I realized I recognized the woman, but I couldn’t remember from where.
And then it hit me.
Ursula Jones was walking towards us. The Father’s replacement.
Surprisingly, weapons are not hot commodity at Charlie’s. I mean, they are, but they aren’t laying out all willy nilly. Most are in protective packaging. So, to defend myself, I picked up the thing closest to me: the conveyor belt grocery divider. I brandished it like a sword, pointing it right at the enemy.
“Good morning, darlings!” greeted Ursula as she placed a ribbonned basket of muffins onto the register’s conveyor belt. Her short brown hair was rolled into poodle cut curls. She wore a simple black dress, black flats, pearl earrings, and bright red lipstick. Very fashionable, but I know enough about femme fatales not to let my guard down.
She gave my makeshift weapon a look of pity before gently moving it downwards with one finger. “Did the previous owners not tell you?”
The younger girl, a miniature of Ursula and surely her daughter, eyed us curiously as she sucked on a cherry red lollipop. She was decked out in more black than her mother with three cross necklaces adorning her neck, all of their chains at varying lengths. The only color about her was the forrest green tips to her long black hair.
“Tell us what?” asked Lacie. I could tell by the fist clenched at her side that she was also on high alert and ready to summon any number of powers to defend the store.
Ursula gave us a wide grin. “I’m the new owner of Charlie’s,” she announced before motioning to her gothly daughter. “And this is my daughter Daisy, your new store manager.”

9:10 a.m.
While randomly getting new bosses today might be stressful to us and possibly even you, dear reader, especially if you’ve been in a similar scenario, the owners have never been fond of other’s emotions. Wanna know how they told us goodbye? After I called them approximately 15 times, all of which got sent to voicemail, and also text them asking what was going on, they finally gave us a response. The response was creating a group chat, sending a message to said group chat containing only the peace sign emoji, and then blocking all of our numbers.
However, as long as the doors are open, the customers will keep coming. And they did, and so the day went on. Before we had even had time to process the huge change and how it might impact us, we were getting our morning rush.
“Ahem,” said a voice behind me.
I turned around to find Daisy waiting expectantly with her hot pink clipboard. It had black and white star stickers all over the back. “I would very much like for you to show me all of this business’ amenities.”
I nodded before pausing my task. I would have to finish counting the clown statues later. The only reason I had started counting them was because a customer told me they saw one wandering around, which would explain why they had been going missing over the last few weeks. I got up to 13, so don’t let me forget that number.
I took her to the Bloody Bathroom first and explained its historical significance. When the blood flow was still a thing to worry about, we would jokingly say the bathroom was menstruating. The bathroom hadn’t had its time of the month in a while, but it’s definitely something we would not forget.
Next up, I brought her to Gary’s deli. While she seemed rather cheerful at Gary’s lovable demeanor, I think she was a little put off when he couldn’t tell her where his Special of the Day spleens had come from. My stern look told him to keep quiet, which made his smile quickly disappear and disappointment take its place. She asked me if I ordered it, and I told her I let Gary handle the deli tasks. I also chose not to mention that I had accidentally found Gary’s little black book of victims a while back, and I had a good guess at just how well he knew those spleens. To be fair, little black books of all kinds are not considered conversational topics to me, but our little hunter Gary will always have a soft spot in my heart no matter how deranged he seems.
After the fifth “Gary forgot” that the poor guy muttered, I distracted Daisy by mentioning the display he regularly decorated to brag on him a bit. Deranged or not, the guy has definitely got some talent. Errr…uh, in the decorating department, not the carving one.
I ended the tour with some of the new additions to Charlie’s: the Witch’s Brew Cafe, the magical vending machine, the housewares department, and the extension of the parking lot. She had a few questions as to why there was a wizard living in the parking lot in a small tent, and I had no answers. I had even fewer answers when his pet duck waddled out from the tent, lit up a charcoal grill, and began grilling frogs. The wizard gave us a wave, his wispy beard blowing in the wind as he stood there in just a pair of white boxers polka-dotted with red hearts and a matching wizard hat. We waved back before making our way back inside.
Pretty much the only time Daisy showed any bit of emotion during our tour was when Sheryl decided to join us. Well, really, she kind of showed some when the poltergeist showed up in housewares…I’ll get to it later. Don’t nag me! But, by the end of the tour, Sheryl was absolutely bawling her eyes out and shouting, “Where has the time gone?” Daisy attempted to console her and give her a reassuring pat on the back.
“There, there,” said Daisy awkwardly. The whole interaction came off as more robotic than anything, so I was shocked when it actually calmed Sheryl down. But…then again, Sheryl is dating a cyborg.
“So, you’ve obviously met Sheryl and Gary. You’ve met me, Lacie, and the coffee shop folks. Have you met Gabe?”
She shook her head. “Who’s Gabe?”
Unbeknownst to her, a suddenly summoned Gabe appeared behind her. “Boo,” he said, causing her to drop her clipboard. She glared at him as it clattered to the floor. “Oops.”
I laughed at them and received my own glare from Daisy. I rubbed the back of my head nervously. “Sorry, he’s become a bit of a trickster since his death.”
Just as quickly as he had shown up, Gabe disappeared again, and that seemed to conclude the tour. Daisy went off to “monitor and assist everyone’s duties,” as she put it, and I went back to my previous task.
Now, where was I? Oh, clown statues. Let me count again. 1,2,3…12. That’s what it was last time, right?

10:36 a.m.
“Here’s yours, Jared,” announced Danielle as she placed my caramel frappuccino on the counter. “Lacie’s is almost ready.”
“Thanks,” I said. I grabbed it and took a sip, enjoying the icy treat. Within 30 seconds, nearly a quarter of it was gone, and I could already hear Lacie nagging me about coming to buy a second coffee later. I may have adopted a coffee addiction thanks to our new cafe.
Unironically, the Witch’s Brew was a magical place. I absolutely loved the atmosphere with its high ceilings, dim lights, and gothic charm. The only colors involved in the decor were Halloween shades: orange, purple, and green. Oh, and black, of course.
Sheryl bounded up to the register giddily as I slurped on my drink. “I’m so glad you guys are finally open! It feels like I’ve been waiting forever!”
Drucilla the cashier gave her a puzzled look. “Honey, we’ve been opened since the store opened.”
Sheryl gave her a puzzled look back. “Every time I tried to come in, the door was always locked.”
Drucilla, Danielle, and Blount, the other barista, began debating whether or not Sheryl had been hexed. As I turned around to look at their door which was currently held open with a door stopper, an idea dawned on me.
“Sheryl,” I said, interjecting into their conversation. “When you came to see if they were open, did you push or pull on the door handle?”
She tilted her head to the side and placed a finger on her lips as if lost in deep thought. “Pull,” she finally said.
The sign on the door read “Push.” A chorus of “Ahh”’s filled the room as the explanation came together in everyone’s heads. Sheryl stayed oblivious. Actually, the room’s response made her even more confused.
“Oh, honey,” said Drucilla, her voice full of pity. “What can we get for you?”
“It’s on the house,” said Danielle, her voice also dripping with pity.
Blount handed me Lacie’s drink as Sheryl ordered some complicated coffee recipe with nearly 20 ingredients that she had found somewhere online. The witches all looked disgusted, but it sounded kinda good to me. As I was about to make my way out the door, Lacie text me that she had enough time to meet me at the cafe to enjoy our coffee together. I talked to the witches and Sheryl while I waited on her.
“Here you go, darling,” said Danielle as she handed Sheryl her coffee. As she was turning around to pass it over, I saw her pointer finger swirling above the beverage as it softly spun around its cup. She knew I had seen what she had done, so she gave me a wink as Sheryl took a sip. She mumbled something about giving Sheryl “a little pep in her step.”
Apparently, the first sip was so good that Sheryl felt the need to take a few gulps. Had I known what she was going to do, I would have highly advised her not to order a drink from the list of hot coffees, but there’s a high probability she wouldn’t have listened to me anyways. I could tell the witches felt the same by the concerned look they gave her. After demolishing nearly half the coffee, Sheryl’s body spasmed and jerked, making her stand up straight as a board as she yelled, “The square root of pi is 1.77245—”
Danielle’s face completely blanked as if her brain was rebooting before cringing at what she had done. “May have added a little too much pep,” she said as Sheryl continued rattling off numbers.

11:02 a.m.
“Hey, Jared, can you tell Gabe to come to the office?” asked Daisy. “I’ve called him 3 times over the radio, and he hasn’t come.”
I had failed to mention to her that Gabe didn’t use a radio because they fall through his body if he loses focus. It just so happened that he was walking by me as Daisy finished asking her a favor. He was pulling a rather large pallet of merchandise behind him, and I told Daisy I would let him know before shouting his name.
His head snapped toward the direction of my voice, causing him to lose focus on his current task. However, the pallet had not gotten the memo that he was stopping, and panic filled me at the possibility of him getting hurt. “Oh, crap, wait!” I yelled, motioning for him to get away. I winced as the pallet drew closer and closer, and he still wasn’t moving. He was also giving me a rather strange look, but I just kept yelling for him to move.
And then the pallet simply went through him, and my body slacked. “Oh,” I said as he approached me, laughing at my freak-out.
“Did you forget I’m dead?” he asked with a smirk.
I rolled my eyes before relaying Daisy’s message, and he wandered off to see what she needed. As I busied myself with checking if my register’s drawer had enough change, I wondered how he decided whether to simply teleport or to walk normally to places. Personally, I would teleport everywhere if given the opportunity.
Sheryl’s screech made me launch a roll of quarters in my hand across the registers, accidentally landing some hits on a big burly sasquatch. I gulped as the monster lumbered over to me. His hot, stinking breath heated up my cheeks as anger bubbled in his eyes. As he released a roar so strong it blew the hair out of my face, I snatched up a stapler beside me and aimed at his large furry face, ready yet fully expecting to die. He raised a meaty fist, but before his first attack could be landed, our battle was sidetracked as Sheryl screamed once more. This time, however, it was followed by a cat’s hiss.
A black blur clambered onto my conveyor belt as an out-of-breath Sheryl nearly collided with it. She leaped for the small black void, and it hissed again. A thick chrome collar looped its small neck with a flashing purple light dangling from it.
“Enough, mother!” ordered the kitten. With enough feistiness to ignite a fire, the fluffy creature turned to the behemoth before me and hissed. Without hesitation, the sasquatch raced out of the front doors before the kitten’s fur could even rise to its full extent. He even forgot his groceries, but I had no plans of running them out to him.
The cat rolled her eyes before settling into a relaxed loaf mode in front of me. “Yes?” I asked her.
“We’re out of my brand of cat food.”
“The truck is going to be here a little after lunch,” I responded.
If she had eyebrows, I swear they would have creased at my response. “How does that help me during lunch?”
“Well, considering it will be your—” I paused dramatically to look at my non-existent wristwatch, “---third meal of the day already, I think you will be fine.”
The kitten’s eyes became slits as they stayed glued to me. Every hair on its body raised as it slowly stood up. Her claws came out, gouging deep holes into the counter below her. My eyes drifted over to Sheryl to figure out what was going on, but I got no reassurance. She looked ready to piss herself, honestly, especially when the cat burst into flames. I jumped back and immediately reached for my eyebrows, fearful they had been singed off. Turns out she had more than enough feistiness.
With a shriek of rage, she jumped up onto her back legs and launched a ball of fire toward aisle 7. A fully enflamed Chip escaped the aisle and zoomed over to our cooler housing the bags of ice for sale. He didn’t even bother opening its door and just jumped straight through, creating a gaping hole in the thick metal. Luckily, the ice’s cool embrace succeeded in putting out the fire, and wisps of steamy relief floated upwards. Chip gave Sheryl and me a thumbs-up from his safe space, and a piece of his melted rubbery cyborg skin fell off.
The cat released something between a hiss and a growl before hopping off of my conveyor belt. Every step she took burned the floor, leaving a trail of blackened paw prints in her wake. Although tiny, her heat made her seem bigger, and I could already feel a trail of sweat trickling down my back. The sprinkler system turned on, but it did practically nothing to her blaze.
Sheryl rushed over to Chip in the cooler to make sure he was okay while I ran to the service desk. “Attention all shoppers, if you can do so safely, calmly make your way to the exit and avoid the flaming cat. I repeat, all customers please calmly make your way to the exit and avoid the flaming cat.”
Fefe walked in the direction of aisle 4 where a man decked out in some strange outfit was exiting, and he began shouting belligerent words at her. She began screaming back at him, but I couldn’t hear them over the customer's screams as they fled to the exit, practically trampling each other. “Literally nothing about that was calm, but okay,” I said into the microphone.
I began walking in the direction of the cat and the man slowly just to get a better look. His body was mostly covered in silver from what I could see. After a few steps, Gabe materialized beside me to join me. We walked in silence a couple more steps until he asked, “Is that Sheryl’s baking pan on his chest?”
We both stopped, and I squinted in confusion. “Yeah. Yeah, I think it is.”
We entered a moment of silence before finally locking eyes. “Gary,” we both said before continuing and also speeding up our walk toward them.
When we got close enough to them to hear their conversation, Gary was gesturing wildly with his hands. I could now see all of the pots, pans, and utensils he had melded together to create an armor. This was one of his unemployment projects from back when he went through his Transformers craze. While it was nowhere near the level of car parts, it was still pretty impressive.
“Fefe no burn down store, no burn loved ones, no burn customers!” yelled Gary.
Fefe let out a furious roar that sent a spurt of flames at Gary. Gabe and I let out screams of grief and terror at seeing our friend get possibly roasted alive. It felt like both one second and also an eternity that the flames were upon him. Either way, I fully expected him to be dead. Yet, when Fefe closed her mouth, Gary still stood there, looking much angrier than before. Our screams quickly died in our throats, getting cut off so suddenly that I choked and began coughing.
Gary let out a roar of his own before grabbing a chunk of metal off of his back that was once a cookie sheet. He bended the materials as if they were clay, shaping it into a makeshift mouthpiece. As soon as she pieced together what he was doing, they began a game of cat and mouse through the aisles where Fefe ironically wasn’t the cat. Fefe would randomly throw fireballs to divert Gary, but he would take them like a champ and keep rolling. Gabe and I watched, fascinated with the fight. At one point, Gabe vanished and reappeared a moment later with two bags of freshly popped popcorn for us.
It was easy to see how frustrated Gary was becoming, and we felt bad that we couldn’t help. We still didn’t even understand how Gary was so unphased but her fire, though. And so the chase continued, that is until Sheryl appeared with a now bandaged Chip hobbling beside her. (Ignore the fact that he’s a cyborg and doesn’t need bandages because that’s clearly what Sheryl did.) She let out a screeching “Fefe” at the top of her lungs, and the kitten stopped in her tracks. Gary was about to quickly grab her by the scruff of her neck while she was distracted. She yelped before beginning to whine. “But, Uncle Gary, I just wanted lunch!” She struggled against him covering her mouth, eventually melting the piece of metal until it was useless anyway.
Gary groaned like a father using his last bit of patience. “Fefe going to timeout!”
Her flames blazed once more just to the left of me, barely missing by inches, which was entirely too close in my opinion. I made a mental note to check to see if I still had eyebrows later. She actually did hit Gabe, causing him to scream as he too forgot his ghostly qualities. He blushed bright red with embarrassment afterwards. Fefe’s roars continued Godzilla-style, taking down a shelf of bread, two self checkout stations, and a snowman customer that had been lingering in the store. “You’ll be hearing from my lawyer!” the melted man’s mouth-coals blubbered before floating separately away through the sprinkler’s puddles. Gary carried her through the store as her tantrum continued, bringing her to the safety of the parking lot.
By the way, did I mention that this is Charlie’s new pet? This is actually the third incident we’ve had like this this week. You’d think we’d have a process or plan for when she does this, but that’s still a work in progress. Rage therapy is definitely on the list, though.
“I’ll let the wizard know we need a reset spell done,” said Gabe before vanishing.
Sheryl was able to completely calm Fefe by running to a store down the road to buy her specialty cat food, so all ended up being well. I made another mental note after this encounter to keep an extra stock of that brand to avoid Fefe’s hangry rath in the future. Oh, and Danielle later explained to me that she put a protection spell on Gary’s makeshift armor, but that she had never told him that she did. That’s how Gary was unaffected by Fefe’s fiery flames. However, if you asked Gary, he would tell you with full seriousness the Transformer gods gave his armor magical abilities.
Did you know there’s a secret underground religion for Transformers? Learn something new every day.

Charlie’s Group Chat - 12:03 p.m.
Lacie: do we sell dentures? Jared: No. Why? Lacie: zombie customer with no teeth J: Why would you even let that sale happen? Sheryl: The customer is always right! Lacie liked Sheryl’s Message S: Tomorrow is Chip’s Bday! L: cyborgs can have birthdays? Chip: It is my manufacture date. Don’t you guys have one? J: Yeah, I got Lacie from the lab last April. L: my birthday is in October. J: That’s what you’re programmed to think. Acid Dude: What am I programmed to think? J: At this point, I’m pretty sure you’re programmed to have no thoughts. S: That’s so cool! Can I do that? C: I will research how to remove your motherboard. AD: I’ll let you borrow mine! Jared added Daisy to the chat. Daisy: Good afternoon. Sheryl: Hasta leugo! 🙂

12:27 p.m.
Do you know what really sucks? When you really, really just want the day to go right, but life says screw you and throws one curve ball after another. My limit had not only been reached but massacred. I felt like I had received a curveball to the face my head was pounding so hard. I have to rant for a moment, so, if you don’t want to read me whining, skip to after the bullet points.
Here’s what crap I’ve had to deal with so far today, not including the new ownership being thrown at us:
Chip got into an argument with one of the card readers, and it chose to go offline until he apologized. He refused, and it’s still offline. Gary dragged a centaur carcass through the store and traumatized several customers. Sheryl nearly drove her new Lamborghini through the front windows. She tried to gaslight me into believing there was a road through the front window and Charlie’s was just in the way. Danielle decided to prank everyone by spelling the whole store to only speak pig latin. Thankfully it wasn’t long before she reversed the spell because she was the only one who found it funny. We have yet to convince Acid Dude that it was just a spell and not some miracle language he created and then completely forgot 20 minutes later.
So, even as I sat at the break room table and tried to enjoy my free pizza, I still felt like a curveball might smash through the break room door and knock me out for one final blow. And it was only just lunchtime.
Oh, let me explain the free pizza thing. Since it was our first day with Daisy, Ursula told her we could close the store for an hour to all have lunch together. She ordered us a couple of pizzas and told us to pick out some chips and drink. Everyone else seemed to be enjoying it, at least.
“Why are you so pale?” Acid Dude asked Daisy.
“I’m dead,” she explained. “Well, undead, really.”
“Cotards?” asked Acid Dude.
“No, I’m a vampire.”. She opened her mouth a bit to flash her fangs.
Acid Dude scrunched up his face in disgust. “Homie, you need to go to the dentist.”
So far I’ve only seen Daisy show two emotions while here: “Oh, you poor thing,” and “Are you really that stupid?” That second one kind of mimicked curiosity, but it most definitely wasn’t. I’ll let you guess which one she was giving Acid Dude right now.
When the lunch party had reached my third slice of pizza o’clock, Lacie and Gabe started bickering. I’m not even sure what started it because I had been so zoned out, but it felt like this weird dark cloud came over them. It felt like it came out of nowhere. One minute I was staring at a lopsided ceiling tile and trying to determine if I saw a clown staring at me through its gap, and the next they were shouting.
“How did someone like you even get a job here?” yelled Gabe. “Did you flirt your way into the position?” Well, that escalated incredibly quickly folks. Here comes Daisy’s fake curiosity look. Honestly, I couldn’t blame her.
“Will you quit insinuating I got this job because of my looks?” To be fair, Lacie was gorgeous, but she was also very good at her job.
“Well, it definitely wasn’t because of skill.”
“I had enough skill to befriend your murderer,” she snapped.
“Just because you’re a freak that likes freaky things doesn’t mean you belong here any more than I do! I mean, I belong here so much that my spirit came here after death!”
“Just because your spirit is trapped here doesn’t mean you belong. From what I heard, you were being marketed as Gary’s daily special while I was being trained!”
I was on the verge of telling them to cut it out before I lost my mind, but—
“Oh, yeah? Well, at least I didn’t have to use a love spell to make everyone, including a wendigo, like me at this job! But then you fucked up and made Jared fall in love with you, didn’t you?”
Wait, what?
Lacie didn’t respond. Instead, her eyes began to well up with tears as they darted back and forth between Gabe and me. As soon as the words left his mouth, I could see the dark cloud affecting him lift and recognition enter his eyes. That still didn’t take away the hurt of what he had said.
“Wh-what?” I said out loud to her.
Her face flushed with worry and shame. “I–I can explain.”
“No,” I said, standing up from my chair so fast that it fell backward. I almost fell with it, but I regained my balance and once more said, “No.”
My brain felt like it was exploding. Had my love for her—our love for each other all been a manipulation tactic for a freaking grocery store job?
Everyone had quieted at this point, except for Sheryl who had been oblivious to the argument and who kept singing “I Will Always Love You” to Chip Jr. Chip quickly covered her mouth. Daisy once again had a look of pity on her face, but I ignored it while I made my departure. I made sure to grab a box of pizza on my way out, though, and I ignored Lacie’s final attempt to stop me.
Today could most definitely go fuck itself.

2:42 p.m.
We did inventory last week, and I screwed up by accidentally ordering twice the number of crackers we needed. I had them marked down to half price, which Mr. Ducksworth had noticed. A paddling of ducks marching into the store was something I had never expected to see, but I’m glad I got to experience it. I have to admit they were rather adorable in their determination to wipe out our supply of crackers, and Mr. Ducksworth was even more adorable as he guided their mission. (Don’t tell him I said that. I don’t want to be slapped again.)
The cause and effect of that is I am now restocking the crackers. Normally the overnight stocking crew does this, but the duck army bought literally every box. Even now, I could see them eyeing me as I stocked the shelves, munching on their crackers greedily. I had to block the aisle off with shopping carts, so they knew waddling onto this aisle was off-limits.
As I placed one of the slender boxes of crackers on the shelf, every single box of crackers I had placed behind it toppled like dominoes. I groaned before placing their shipping box on the shelf beside them to free my hands. As I straightened the crackers, the cardboard box flew off the shelf as if thrown. I rolled my eyes, already over today and lacking the patience to deal with the shelve’s antics. “I was going to throw the box away,” I told them. “I just had to fix these boxes first.”
A box of graham crackers slid to the front of the shelf, and I watched as the box’s logo morphed into the words, “It wasn’t us.”
A grin spread across my face as the feat left me amazed. “Why have you never told me you could do that?” I asked them. “That’s pretty cool.”
The bear on the box shrugged before its cheeks blushed, smiling smugly and waving its paw as if to say, “Oh shucks, that old trick?”
I jumped as all of the boxes on the shelf behind me were flung out so hard that some of them hit my back. The shelves in front of me responded by morphing all of their item's logos from the beginning of the aisle to the end into one long string of “Heeeeeeey.” Then it threw some items back, which I ducked to avoid. To my shock, they did not hit the shelves on the other side. Instead, it hit some type of force field in front of the shelves and clattered to the ground. I watched one single box float into the air before being thrown at me too. It whacked me in the face, causing me to yell out more in shock than pain.
The logos changed once more to read, “leave Jared aloneeeeeeee” all the way down the aisle.
“I’m not in this,” I announced while raising my hands above my head. I made my way out of the aisles, calling out “Clean up your mess when you’re done,” over my shoulder.
Later on, when I saw Gabe, I asked him if we had a poltergeist in the building.
“Oh, yeah,” he confirmed. “Sheryl spent an hour this morning playing catch with it.”
“Is that all it wants?”
He nodded, and I nodded back in understanding. “And the shelves don’t want to play catch with it,” I said mostly to myself because Gabe had already walked off.
I realized that intervention had to happen when the altercations began to involve customers. I saw a man angrily speed-balling cans into the shelves surrounding him, and I immediately stepped in to help. After apologizing to him and offering a 50% discount that might make Ursula hate me, I turned to the shelves.
“Look, guys, this has got to stop. Putting me through it is one thing because I know I’m this store’s guinea pig, but dragging customers into it is where I draw the line. It’s extremely bad for business.”
I crossed my arms and waited for a response, but none came. After a couple of minutes of waiting for one, I sighed and began tapping my foot as my aggravation and impatience grew. Maybe five seconds later is when I saw the cans to my right begin to tumble off their shelves. Soon, hands appeared, their formation resembling someone swimming forward while underwater.
“What the…” I began as I saw the owner of the hands shimmying through the space it had cleared out. Stringy tendrils of hair trickled out over the shelf edge, falling downwards until they almost touched the floor. The crown of a head peeked out over the edge, making me step back a bit. Recognition began to creep into my bones, but I couldn’t tell why until I heard a familiar popping of the being’s neck. I debated running away, but the head snapped upwards before I could respond. A foul and rotten face locked eyes with me, giving me a horrific grin.
“Deborah!” I yelled while falling back on my butt. Before I had even landed on the floor, however, she was gone. I looked all around me rapidly, dread overwhelming to the point that I felt bile rising up in my throat. Deborah’s disembodied laughter began to fill my ears, and I felt like I was about to pass out.
Until a note floated downwards and landed in my lap. I picked it up and read the scrawling handwriting. It almost resembled a child’s writing, even written with crayon, and it was something I had most definitely never seen before. “Gotcha!” it read.
I groaned. “That wasn’t funny!”
Another note floated downwards and landed in my lap again. “Yes, it was.”
I heard a clinking above me and looked up to find a stack of cans with their logos just changed. “It kind of was,” they read.
I rolled my eyes. “At least you guys are getting along, I guess.”

7:13 p.m.
I sighed in annoyance. “Go away.”
“Can I come inside?” spoke up the child’s voice on the other side of the locked glass doors. His eerily monotone voice had become a rather aggravating occurrence to me.
“No. Go away,” I said more forcefully.
“Ooooh! Barty is here!” Sheryl crooned from behind me. “Hi, Barty Boy!”
“My name is Bartholemew,” said the boy, sounding slightly annoyed before switching back to his bland cadence. “Can you let me inside, Sheryl?”
“No, I’m sorry, Barty,” responded Sheryl, her voice dripping with disappointment. “Jared says I’ll die if I do.”
“I’m not going to hurt you,” said the strange child. “It’s cold out here, and I would like to call my mother.”
“He doesn’t have a mother because he’s not actually a child,” I explained. “We’ve been over this, Sheryl.”
“Yeah, but he’s just so darn cute!” she responded. “And clearly he needs new clothes! I mean, those were popular in like…colonial days!”
I finally looked up from my register to take a closer look at Barty. He was also looking down at his outfit as if he hadn’t realized his fashion sense was centuries behind. When he looked back up, his jet-black eyes locked onto mine. The sickly sweet smell of death was already getting unbearable, and that was with him on the other side of the door still. His eyes resembled black pits of despair. They beckoned you closer and closer, and if you got too close, they would swallow you up. They began unearthing my deepest fears: Lacie never loving me, the store firing me, dying alone. Just before the feelings consumed me entirely, before I was convinced that the only answer to my salvation was to let him inside, I managed to look away. “Go away, Barty,” I ordered once more.
His porcelain face glared at me. “My name is Bartholemew, and I need to come inside.”
Sheryl looked toward me in hopefulness. When I didn’t respond, she began to shimmy closer to the door as if I wouldn’t notice.
“Sheryl, he’s dangerous——“
“——Barty wouldn’t hurt a fly!”
I watched as she ignored me and stepped just before the door. Barty’s coal-like eyes stared up at hers, and she quickly let out a cry like she was in pain. She leaped backward, falling onto her butt, yet only a second later she was up on her feet and running as far away from the front doors as she could.
I turned towards the rapid footsteps coming from the direction of the office to see a frazzled Lacie throwing her hair up into a quick messy bun as if ready to fight any intruder we had. “What’s going on?”
I avoided eye contact with her while responding. “Barty is here, and Sheryl got too close.”
It was hard not to look at her after being in love with her for so long. I noticed her looking for the chain around my neck, double-checking that I was still wearing the protection pendant she made me. “Did it work?”
Our eyes connected, and I looked away while shrugging. “I didn’t want to take the chance of not wearing it knowing what this store throws at you.” It did not prevent heartbreak, I’ll tell you that much.
“Can I use your telegraph?” spoke up Barty.
“Wrong century, demon,” snapped Lacie. She crossed her arms and locked eyes with him. “And I told you not to come back.”
Barty and Lacie bickered back and forth for a few more minutes before the being suddenly disappeared, angry that his wish had once again not been fulfilled. Lacie looked away for a split second to catch something the poltergeist threw at her, and then he was gone. Barty is part of the reason why Sheryl will never get her own keys to the store. We’ve even let Gary have his own set, but we just can’t trust Sheryl not to open it to any number of creatures we have to deal with on a daily basis. Barty seemed unaffected by Lacie’s protection and diversion spells, and we all know how successful her spells are based off of the last entry.

I really need to shut up talking about it, but its all I can focus on. I think I just need some time to think, so I’ll talk to you guys later.

9:54 p.m.
Ayo, yo, whaddup, guys? It’s Gabe here. Jared said I could type up the conclusion. You guys have no idea how hard it is to type when you don’t have a physical form. Finding the right amount of pressure to press the keys and not completely demolish this keyboard is tedious. The pain is all worth it for you guys, though. You’re always there for us, so I want to be there for you.
Just look behind you.
I’m just kidding. If I really wanted to visit you, you’d have no idea about it.
There’s been a strange vibe around the store today, and I’m not sure why. Everyone just seems…off. Even me. It took me 20 minutes to check a customer’s single item out earlier because I couldn’t remember how to open a plastic shopping bag. We’ve all been stressed, and there’s just this feeling of darkness over us.
I hope things improve, and I hope you guys keep coming along for the ride!
Peace out!
submitted by thatreallyshortchick to Odd_directions [link] [comments]

2023.03.25 16:58 TheLegoGeneral [RADOTAAV S2R1] (US) Minneapolis Machine Works XLT-1, MTM-1, & MTM-1H

[RADOTAAV S2R1] (US) Minneapolis Machine Works XLT-1, MTM-1, & MTM-1H
Greetings and good day to the US Army High Command! My name is Jonathan Ripe, and I am the Head of Engineering here at Minneapolis Machine Works (MMW). We have received your requests for the engineering and production of several tank designs, and are tickled pink you've decided to consider us. My boys and I have been hard at work these past few weeks, and we've cooked up some designs that meet and in some cases even exceed your requirements. We'll start off by looking at the light tank.
The XLT-1 was my own design and, frankly, I've become quite fond of it. Despite looking rather unorthodox, it does meet and/or exceed all specifications. The suspension, odd though it may seem, keeps the tank fairly well-balanced, though it doesn't handle rough terrain all that well. It's quite nimble, and it accelerates quickly until you reach about 18 MPH, after which it's a slow journey to 30. It's capable of mounting a 1.6 foot step and climbing a 40 degree angle from a standstill, and crosses any trench at a high enough speed. It's armed with the 37mm anti-tank gun requested as well as a .30 caliber machinegun for anti-infantry purposes. The 37mm comes with 240 rounds of ammunition, twice the required amount. It's armor, while thin, can still be used effectively if hit at an angle. The tank was primarily envisioned to be in a scouting or flanking role, as its design limits its role in assaulting enemy positions head-on. Finally, the tank's riveted armor allows for ease of production, and we have strived to make the tank as easy as possible to maintain in the field.
The XLT-1 may not be particularly pretty to look at, but it's mobile, reliable, and easy to produce and maintain. I may have exaggerated some of its strengths, but you can test it yourselves and see if I'm right or wrong. Now, moving on, we have the medium tank.
The MTM-1 is a capable all-around medium tank, featuring good mobility and armor while not sacrificing too much of one to gain more of the other. It accelerates quickly, handles rough terrain well, and can climb a 1.6 foot step and a 40 degree slope from a standstill. Like the XLT-1, it mounts the requested 37mm M5 gun, now storing thrice the requested amount of rounds. As well as its main armament, the MTM-1 comes with three machineguns for anti-infantry purposes. It also mounts the Continental V6 engine, along with similarly sized roadwheels, sprockets, and idlers, ensuring easier maintenance between the two vehicles. The chassis also has a large amount of spare room inside for potential future upgrades, capable of adding extra armor, ammo, fuel, and/or crew members, or even mounting a new engine or gun. The tank should be able to perform well in just about any role assigned to it, although it is not likely to excel in any particular position.
The MTM-1 is a very capable medium tank design, exceeding almost every specified requirement given it, and thus hopefully ensuring its dominance on any potential battlefield. With all of that said, we now only have the heavy tank to look at.
As you can see, we've decided to take initiative and upgrade our own model! Technically speaking, the MTM-1 already met all requirements for both the heavy and medium designs, we simply would have needed to swap the guns out and add a fifth crewman. However, I and our engineers decided to take the design several steps further and turn it into a true heavy tank, the MTM-1H. Obviously, the benefits of this design speak for themselves: easy maintenance and conversion between the MTM-1 and its H variant, ease of training for crews between variants, and, with a bit of tweaking, we've even been able to get the H variant to meet the medium requirements as well. The H variant is a veritable bulwark of armor, yet still with the mobility of a medium tank and a converted artillery piece mounted on it. Unfortunately, with all of this additional internal armor, the H variant is extremely limited in its available space for potential upgrades, but, if accepted along with the MTM-1, you'd have a design that could be, when the medium variant is phased out, upgraded very easily into its heavy variant.

This concludes the three Minneapolis Machine Works tank design submissions for the US Army. If you have any questions or concerns regarding the designs, please refer them to me using the return address, and any non-engineering related queries may be sent directly to the company CEO, Jacob Hughes.

Jonathan Ripe Head of Engineering Minneapolis Machine Works

Well, second competition in and I'm still enjoying myself. I know I got a bit lazy with the heavy design, but I tried making a new design after I'd modified the medium and it wasn't really working out that well, I had no real inspiration for it anyways so I just gave up. I would also like to try to get into one or two of the other factions this round, but we'll see if that happens or not. Feedback is appreciated, I'm always trying to improve my designs.
submitted by TheLegoGeneral to SprocketTankDesign [link] [comments]

2023.03.25 16:46 _Eduardo_16 Drug Monkeys - Prologue - [OC]

I was happy that some of you guys enjoyed it! As you’ve wished, here’s another entry to this universe!

Though the previous one I did was nothing more than a concept, I was satisfied with how I’ve come up with this whole story.

I’m not going to spoil the story but let’s just say there’s more stuff in store for you guys!

Oh, and I guess this is officially a series now.

On with the prologue.

Drug Monkeys - Prologue -

It was Jim’s first experience living in a gardenworld, a world that harbors life and that death is not always present, he remembered how he was on Earth not too long ago, how life back there always seemed bleak but at the same time normal, filled with dangers and yet it still comforts him as a human, it was also his first debut here, he was assigned as a transfer student in a prestigious school, to learn about how space stuff works, more specifically FTL-ships and whatnot.


His wristwatch snaps him out of his thoughts, bringing him back to reality, where he found himself in a spaceship harbored by the Federation, the interior looked nice and quirky, filled with commodities attuned to his race, water, food, and his specially-designed orange spacesuit designated for him, he finds it strange why he was required by his government to wear the suit the moment he lands because as far as he knows, there weren’t any problems being naked (well, not entirely naked, just with the suit off) in the gardenworld, but he shouldn’t be giving misassumptions on things he doesn’t know, perhaps there were species out there that are afraid of his racial features, or how some species doesn’t like the looks of their kind, either way, it was better to be safe than sorry and cause an international accident.

The suit itself had a more or less modern take and a tinge of futurism on the side, the torso part of the suit looked like it had one of NASA’s Oxygen Purge Systems installed at the front included with a portable life support system at the back, the systems are both upgraded and took less space for convenience, they were designed for controlling the outflow of oxygen coming into his lungs and the carbon dioxide that exited, including the pressure and temperature of that said oxygen and the atmosphere inside, the limbs of the suit looked comfortable to wear, so at least he wasn’t going to worry about ergonomics for a while, plus it had a layer of lightweight metal to protect himself from medium physical trauma, and a layer of an aluminum perforated sheet around the helmet to protect his skull from being mentally harmed by psychic-energy, he was worried at that last bit from the suits’ maker since it implies that there are psychic races out there that could probably possess him or turn his brain into slime.

Aside from the horrifying thought, the helmet or visor had the most futuristic style in it, along with the helmet having a respirator mask connected to the inside, it also had things like a HUD to display the time of day, his current location on the planet he was on, not to mention the solar system he was in too, his temperature, vitals, a facial-hide feature, a small display of the suits integrity system and the good ol’ compass system.

Although he doesn’t know the exact reason why he had to wear the suit, it made sense why he had to wear it since incidents and crimes are prone to happen, and so are injuries if you’ve found yourself to be caught up in one, plus identity theft is much more rampant since their entry in the galaxy, thank god for the facial-hide feature.

Talking about crimes and incidents, he did hear that there were some drug cartels out there, but that was next to impossible to meet them or encountering them since the Federation he was in, The Barlog Federation, was high-alert on any drugs being pushed around or sold by black market sellers, so he’s not worried at the very least, plus he was in a gardenworld so the chances are very slim, but never zero.

“Jim! Wear that suit ‘cause we’re about to land in just about a few minutes, you’ll see our destination outside the window.” The ship’s assistant said at the cabin’s doorway of the ship, revealing himself to be a man in his forties wearing the same suit that Jim saw earlier, the systems glowing a faint hue of blue as he worked the courage to stand and balance himself in the ship, using his hands to grab the poles in the ship’s loading bay, taking careful note of the supplies beside him as he helped himself to walk.

“Yeah, I’ll change in just a sec, Mark.” While walking, he took what the assistant said in mind and briefly looked out of the windows of the spaceship, seeing the gardenworld of Bartos in view, the planet itself looked similar to Earth, having a similar atmosphere and more or less the same gravity as his homeworld has, after taking in the view for a few seconds, he opted himself to move forward and take off the suit hanging on the wall, he goes in the bathroom of the ship, taking a good five minutes to change himself to be wearing the suit with his civilian clothes on from the inside, Jim tested his physical amenity in the suit, moving his limbs, twisting them, clenching his fists and moving his head, it was a perfect fit for a seven-foot man like him.

“Goddamn do you look like a giant in that thing, I’m not surprised if the world’s natives are scared shitless of you, dude.” He turned around to see the assistant from before, who he dwarfed in comparison, “Did you have a growth spurt or something? I bet you’re the top when it comes to basketball.” The smug assistant of the captain said to him, visibly seeing his smirk inside the visor of his suit.

“Ha, I guess you could say that, my family wanted me to join the golden state warriors but I don’t wanna, basketball’s not suited for me, I don’t like it,” Jim said to the assistant, walking past him and getting through the cargo bay of the spaceship to prepare himself for atmospheric entry, the assistant followed suit and picked a seat across from Jim to chat a little while longer until the announcement system in the ship blared for everyone’s attention, voicing a personal message from the captain himself.

[Hello everyone this is your captain speaking of the UNSF Jackal, we’re getting close to our destination of the gardenworld Bartos, please prepare your suits and seats for atmospheric entry, I repeat, please prepare your suits and seats for atmospheric entry, I will give you five minutes to prepare, until then, have a safe voyage!]
After the captain’s message was over, the two felt the ship halt in space and used the remaining five minutes for their conversation as they were already in their seats prior to the announcement, “You don’t like basketball?” Mark said to Jim, turning his wrist for the digital pad installed on the suit to tell the time, “Yeah, I flat out don’t like it, not because of the audience or the competition in general, just that my legs hurt like hell after doing rounds of basketball.” Mark could relate to that since he trained in physical fitness exams when entering the marine corps, yet Jim here could throw his men into outer space if he’d like to after taking the exams himself, “And how the heck did you get so tall in the first place? It’s quite rare to see a seven-foot guy in person.” Mark questioned, fascinated at Jim’s height as he lightly blushed at the indirect praise of his abnormal physical form, fortunately, his facial-hide feature hid that blush of his so Mark wouldn’t know he was embarrassed.

“Well, my father was quite the man himself, he was shorter than me, five-foot-six, as for my mother, well, she was two inches below him, maybe it was genetic luck or something? I’m not sure, but they’re very proud when they discover I’m as tall as a six-year-old boy when I was a year old at that time.” Jim gave Mark a short history of his parents, “Thank god it was during that time when everyone was at a great age where technology can solve almost all of our problems, I said almost because cancer is still a bitch in twenty-fifty-seven.” Jim said, wondering how that cursed disease still survives every time, “Hey, at least most diseases and whatnot are useless thanks to that, but at the very least, you are both stupidly lucky and at the right time to be born, ‘cause not only did you survive your challenge being a seven-foot guy, you also had a one in a lifetime chance to be in the spacefaring age, you’re so fucking fortunate man.” Mark said in an envious tone of Jim’s stupid luck, as Jim himself scratch the back of his head in light of Mark’s words.

“Well, what can I say? I’m glad and thankful my parents didn’t take abortions during that time, from what I heard, things are getting a little hectic thirty-five years ago, you know, the Great Recession, climate change, and other depressing stuff.” Jim said, feeling a little sad for what his parents had to go through during that time, “Yeah, some old peeps thought it’d be a great idea to do some horrendous law changes back then, like making children work, but back then competent leaders and sensible people were able to fight back, and all I can do is nothing but praise them for what they did during that time.” Before they could get further into their conversation, they felt the ship change speed, feeling the cargo’s floor becoming warm and the shaking of the ship’s body, after a few seconds of the crewmen, including Jim and Mark, bracing themselves for the hot entry, the warmth in the floor dissipated and the shaking stopped, then the speakers chimed again, the captains’ voice overtaking the speakers.

[Alright, people! We’ve landed on Bartos, please follow the orders of your superiors and proceed with extra caution, and remember to double-check if there are any, and I mean ANY orifices on your suit, if there are, please report to the ship’s technician suitmaker for repairs, until then, next planetary departure is in two weeks.]

Jim felt a little odd when the captain emphasized the suits, he understands the cost and danger, but what a little hole in your suit could do? ‘Maybe I should stop thinking about that, maybe they don’t want some alien rat crawling into those holes, ew…’ While others were unbuckling their seatbelts, including his seatbelts, he saw Mark standing in front of him when he was finished unbuckling, “I bet you’re not familiar with the ship, huh?” Mark sneered, prideful at his speed of unbuckling his seatbelt, “Ugh, just help me out with this, please?” Jim said, having trouble pressing which buttons to press.

While Mark helped him unbuckle his seatbelt around his giant body, the captain himself appeared in the cargo bay while the crewmen started to move the boxes out of the ship’s landing bay, approaching Jim and Mark who are still stuck on their seatbelt problem.

“Did you not press the green button? That’s the one that releases you, right?” Jim said, “I did! It’s not working, I uh-“ Mark said, frantically looking at the three colored buttons in front of him, “What seems to be the problem, boys?” The captain said, surprising Jim and Mark, “U-Uh! Hello, Captain Graham, sir!” Mark said in a strict posture and did a swift salute near his suit’s visor to respect the man in front of him.

“I bet you’re not familiar with the ship, huh?” The captain said in a joking tone, ironically using Mark’s line against him, “A-Ah, father-I mean, captain!” Jim said, cutting himself off to not accidentally reveal that the captain is his dad and to not make everything more awkward than it has to be.

“S-Sir! We’re uh… Having trouble with the seatbelts, we don’t know how to unbuckle them.”

As they said that they heard the sound of the spaceships’ engines dying out filling the cargo bay, reminding the two that they’d been stuck on the seatbelt problem for at least a minute now, which made them have second-hand embarrassment, Captain Graham gives out a short hearty laugh.

“I knew I should’ve told the engineers to set up some posters for instructions, I bet some fools have already shitted themselves.” The Captain said, going over to Jimmy’s belt and pressing the red, yellow, and green buttons in order, and with a click, the belt comes open, letting go of Jim and giving him back his freedom of movement.

“Huh, just like a traffic light…” Mark murmured to himself, feeling a bit stupid as Jim gets up from his seat, stretching and twisting his limbs to pop some joints as he lets out a sigh of pleasure, “Thanks, Captain.” He said to the man, dwarfing him in size, but the man didn’t react, only that he nods in reply, “You’re welcome, Jimmy boy.” The Captain returns his attention to Mark, the soldier assistant for the captain on the UNSF “Jackal” spaceship, gave him something, Mark glances at the things, and discovers it is a bunch of officer cards, identification papers, as well as a list of things on paper, and money to buy said things on paper for the soldiers.

“Go do some paperwork for me and buy some stuff for the soldiers, mainly ammunition materials and rations, report to me once you’re done.” The Captain gives his orders to Mark, he replied with a salute and a nod and went off the spaceship via the cargo bay doors, once he’s gone, Graham focuses his attention back on Jim, who is patiently staring at the old man for something.

“So… We’re finally on Bartos, where you’re going to learn a lot of spacey stuff,” Graham said, dropping his authoritative demeanor and switching it to a casual one, “I’ve never expected being the UNSF Jackal, and it was used to bring a father’s son to a space college in an artificial gardenworld, haha.” Jim lightly chuckled at the humor that came with his sentence, after all, it was not every day that a military vessel is used for nothing but transportation for a civilian like Jim, at least for this occasion, the excuse for resupply made it a perfect opportunity for Jim to arrive to his college’s dormitory on time.

“Hahaha, that I get. But you should get going now, all of the things required for education like books and holographic recordings are already there in your assigned dormitory for your convenience, should get you warmed up for the semester.” Graham said, patting Jim as he snapped his fingers, as a floating spherical bot with a cute holographic expression for a face appeared next to Graham, “Please lead citizen-class ‘Jim’ to his designated self-drivable car.” The bot’s eyes blinked then said in a robotic feminine tone, “Yes, sir Graham! Calculating route… Please, sir Jim! Follow me!” The bot said, using its gravitational rings to float itself out of the ship’s cargo bay as Jim said his last goodbye to his father, “I guess I’ll see you in a couple of months, dad.” Jim said, walking ahead of his father as he did a short wave, “Yep, do your best! You better give me high grades in all subjects, alright!” His father exclaimed, making Jim feel second-hand embarrassment yet again as he felt the awkward stares from his father’s crewman, who didn’t know he was the son of the Captain, “Oh, and don’t forget your number is 129, alright?!” He waved his hands, not wanting to be embarrassed any further.

“Are you ready, sir Jim?” The bot said, “Yes, please…” Jim said, his face lightly red flushed as he hurriedly get out of the landing pad and followed the bot to the road ahead, where a hovering car was waiting for them, the moment Jim got near it the doors automatically opened as another AI voice made itself known in the cabin, “Hello, are you recipient number #129?” The driver AI said, making itself visible in the cabin’s window visor, its pixel eyes focused on Jim.

‘That must be me, I guess?’ He remembered what his father said earlier and replied, “Yep, that’s me.” The driver AI showed a loading screen for a second then a camera appeared out of the side mirror, scanning his face, shortly after a checkmark appeared, “Recipient confirmed! Please assign yourself to the driver’s passenger seat! Sir Jim!” Jim waved at the bot that accompanied him before it shortly brings itself back to the UNSF Jackal ship, once the doors were closed, the car started to hover forward and bring Jim to his destination.

While the journey to his college dormitory remained silent, Jim was fascinated at the sight of alien structures so tall that they blinked the sun in and out of existence, not only that, there were also cars in sky highways, crossing paths with the skyscrapers as they narrowly avoided through the tight spaces of the buildings, at this point, Jim wondered if he and their parents are lucky to be born in the right time to explore the galaxy, he felt bad for the humans three and a half decades ago, as they were still in their modern age, unable and never to experience this sight ever again, only to be a vivid dream in their minds.

“We’re at our destination, sir Jim! Thank you for choosing Braekteel Taxi company for transportation, may we seek your next drive!” He failed to realize that he was already at the entrance to his dormitory, going out of the hover taxi, Jim had to readjust his body as he stand in front of the gigantic building that is the National University Bartos, or the NUB for short, the taxi left the place as Jim walked forward to enter through the entrance.

Inside was something Jim expected, the halls were futuristic yet still retained that rustic style, he was in the lounge of the building, and all the long chairs are fluffy in a way, including the table, he goes to the reception, and there was an alien that resembled a very, very fat orange cat, something near to Garfield except he was a chick that uses a filer to keep her claws up to shape, ‘A Kerkitril?’ Jim thought, taking in the sight of the orange-furred Kerkitril with smudges of light brown across her fur.

The alien spoke in a strange language that he couldn’t understand after she realizes he was staring at him, the translator near his ear lobe, which he didn’t even notice, crackled to life, with a robotic-like voice that alerted him of the translator’s condition, [Alien language detected, attempting to decode to human language…] The cat lady stared at him strangely as Jim had to awkwardly refer to the translator near his ears inside his helmet to work, [Language decoded! Which language do you like to set it to?] Jim had forgotten that his race had hundreds of languages, so he chose the most basic one there is, “English.” Instantly, the voice in his translator replied, [Confirmed! Language translated is set to “ENGLISH”, are you sure you want to set this as your preferred translated language?] “Yes…” Jim annoyingly replied, wanting to get this awkward moment to be over with, [Now you can speak with ease! Please try out the translator to the speaker.] After hearing that, Jim coughed to rid away the awkwardness and to garner the Kerkitril’s attention.

“Hello? Can you understand me?” Jim said as his words reached the Kerkitril’s feline ears in the reception, “Uh, yes. I was starting to wonder whether or not you’re going to speak or else I’ll call in the building’s guards to kick your odd race out.” She said as the translator worked its charm, relaying her words into something tangible his mind can understand.

“I’m here for my dormitory? Uh, my name’s Jim, Jim Graham is my full name.” The Kerkitril’s tail lightly pressed the strangely-shaped triangular button in front of her on the desk, then a holographic panel appears in front of her, she sets down her file and swipes through the lists of names registered in the University, and her expression turns to surprise when she saw Jim’s profile, “Uh, is this your name?” She turned the panel with her paws, “Yep, that’s me.” He replied, avoiding his stupid picture settled above his name, which was him being in an unclean state, his hair was rowdy, and his eyes had bags under them, in short, he was ashamed this was supposed to be his ID soon in the future.

“Your room’s number twelve, on hallway sixth, I assume you’re aware that you have a roommate, right?” This comes as a surprise to Jim as he never recalled having a roommate with him on the papers, er, well, more accurately the University’s dormitory manager, “Uh… No?” The Kerkitril blankly stared at him then sighed, “I’ll alert her of your arrival, in the meantime, you should let Mr. Guide over there help you accompany you to your room.” She referred to the bot, which looked more like a floor cleaner than a guide, to Jim, “Thank you miss, uh…” He trailed off, trying to find any context clues to her name, “It’s nothing, hun. Just call me Miss Erilm.” The fat Kerkitril said.

“Alright, Miss Erilm. Thanks for the help!” After following the futuristic cleaner roomba, Jim finds himself in front of his dormitory room’s metal door, “Twelve at hallway sixth, right?” He glanced at the number sign in the hallway to see if it was number six, “Okay, so I am in hallway sixth, I hope this one is correct…” Jim braced himself, preparing mentally for the person on the inside to greet him as he made sure his posture was professional, he was about to knock when the door silently opened up with a slide, revealing a female Kerkitril, he didn’t realize this as he proceeds to tap his knuckles forward, tapping the Kerkitril’s furry head by accident.

“Ow! What the…?” The Kerkitril said, Jim realized his mistake as he tries to apologize for his misbehavior, “Ah, I’m sorry! Did I hit you too hard? I-I didn’t realize the door was already open.” Jim started to fidget nervously, fearing that the may get kicked out on the very first day in this dormitory, “O-Oh! Are you the new roommate?” The female Kerkitril said as Jim took in her racial features, her fur is a bright brown color, full of black streaks on her entire body, aside from that, she was two and a half feet smaller than her, how he hit her head is a mystery.

“Uhm, yes! My name is Jim! Jim Graham, nice to meet you!” Jim says in an enthusiastic yet nervous filled tone, offering his gloved hands to shake her paws for a proper introduction, the Kerkitril glanced at his furless gloves and proceeds to shake hands with Jim, “Uh, my name’s Amirlyn, I guess you’re a… What kind of race are you?” She said, unable to see through his helmet’s facial-hide feature, “I’m a human! You know, the new race like six months ago?” He briefly disabled the feature to confirm his claim, which caught her off-guard.

“What? A human? Damn, I never thought I’d see your kind in this part of space, I thought y’all secluded yourself in your systems?” Amirlyn said, raising assumptions about his kind as Jim had to disperse her beliefs of his race, “Yeah, about that… We just wanted to prepare ourselves for more expanses, you know, like this suit to not scare the other races?” Jim said, which shattered Amirlyn ’s thoughts about the humans, “I guess that makes sense, so, uh…” An awkward silence enters the conversation as she tries to gather up more questions, Jim was the first to break the silence as he wanted to see what the room looked like in his eyes, “Can I get inside?” Jim requested, which made Amirlyn realize she was being outright rude to the human.

“S-Sorry! Let’s get inside.” Amirlyn stepped to the side for the bulky human to enter, his hair barely touches the door’s topside by a hair’s length as he entered his dormitory with his cat roommate, he finds it expansive, which is great for him since he’s seven foot tall.

The rooms themselves were outfitted to their specified roles, the kitchen has sets of knives, varying plates, silverware, a microwave, and a fridge.

The living room has a white-colored rug, with two soft sofas, a table on top of the rug, a TV hanging on the wall, well, more like levitating, below the TV were some drawers, beside the drawers are a pair of two pot plants harboring alien fauna, perhaps fauna familiar to Amirlyn?

The bedroom was the same, two beds, with one specifically elongated for him, there’s also a pair of computer stations for the two of them as well, same with drawers and desks, there’s also a balcony connected to the bedroom, which showed the city outside and the beautifulness of it all, then there’s the bathroom, you know, for convenience, and that’s pretty much it.

There’s also a strangely-designed automatic laundry machine settled near his bed, he knows it’s intended for the suit he was wearing since it’ll smell bad after a couple of hours, but he’ll have to do that later when he’s done setting up for today and getting familiarized with the university’s layout.

And that’s pretty much about it, Amirlyn did mention that there’s a storage area in the living room with a strange package she received yesterday, Jim decided to check it out, wondering if it was the educational materials his father bought, and his assumption was right.

“What? How is that in there?” Amirlyn inquired, finding it strange why a bunch of books, which mind you were outdated in this time of age, and a couple of holographic recordings were settled in the storage area of their room, “These are the educational materials that father bought, some of these are to help me to get me up to speed, seems like I’ll have to spend a lot of time studying and doing research for tomorrow.” Jim said, putting the plastic-covered book back in the box and carrying it back to his room.

“Hah, you should’ve told me about that! I was worried when some delivery guy yesterday told me to sign for some package that I didn’t even order, I thought I was letting someone’s stuff into my dorm, and this is my very first year in this university to add on top of that!” Amirlyn said, voicing out her concerns as Jim glanced over his shoulders at her, “Well, I should be thankful to you for doing that, or else I’ll have to opt for an empty dorm room, which is lonely now that I think about it.” He said to her as he lightly plops down the box near his bed.

“I-I guess you’re welcome?” Jim chuckled at her confusion, “Well, let’s get acquainted with each other in our entire freshman year, you ” He said, standing up and hunching over herself to get in close and personal with the Kerkitril, shaking her hands.

“Y-Yeah, let’s get acquainted…” She said, adding her force to the shake for confirmation.




Whew, that’s the prologue finished!

I decided to flesh out some of the characters in the oneshot, I hope this is enough to make a background of what their past and their lives are, mainly Jim.

As for the ‘accident’ that will happen later on, it’ll arrive eventually, you’ll just have to be patient :)

Anyway, this is my first entry to the new series I’m currently working on Drug Monkeys, and it's thanks to some people demanding for MOAR chapters, seeing your comments filled me with happiness, and I thank you for that.

I hope you enjoyed today’s entry! Until then, I’ll see you in another post!
submitted by _Eduardo_16 to HFY [link] [comments]

2023.03.25 16:40 Far-Elk-3960 Can’t find a sewing tool I’ve seen in videos, help!?

I am new to machine sewing and have seen in a few YouTube videos that people use what looks like a long metal needle/tool by hand to push the material through without getting your fingers too close.
Does anyone know what they are called and where I can get one from?
Thanks for everyone’s help.
submitted by Far-Elk-3960 to SewingForBeginners [link] [comments]