This describes what I do to make my bytecode interpreter faster. It stops short of using (tracing-)JIT methods, which I consider far too complex, and not pure. What I do below is always executing a bytecode at a time (although it may merge two into one), and never generates custom native code sequences for the input program.
Note that this is for a language with tagged dynamic types. I mention this because people usually omit this important detail! An interpreter for a static language can be trivially JITed, if for some reason you can't just use AOT compilation.
First here's a summary of the byte-code dispatchers I have used, in order of slower to faster:

Function-table -fn Use a table of function pointers, one per bytecode handler Switch-based -sw Use a giant switch operating on bytecode indices Label-table -lab Use a table of label pointers, ie. 'computed goto' ASM-based -asm Use inline assembly within a set of threaded-code functions, one per bytecode 

My 'bytecode' is actually a sequence of 64-bit values: a bytecode index, followed by 0-4 inline operands depending on instruction, so it is variable-length. However, for -fn -lab -asm dispatchers, the bytecode index is usually fixed-up to the address of the function or label. It is sometimes left as an index when debugging.
My -asm dispatcher was so effective that I eventually dispensed with the middle two, and now mainly use -fn and -asm. (However, when I sometimes transpile to C to take advantage of gcc-O3, that only supports -fn, as -asm is not portable. It turns out that -asm is usually faster than even using gcc-O3, and would be even if -sw -lab were available; it's not often that you can say that. See example timing below.)
(The -lab-style dispatcher is used in a separate interpreter project for static code, there it makes use of a special switch statement in my implementation language which creates a computed-goto without having to manually maintain jump-tables.)
The -fn dispatcher is ultra-simple, which is also why I prefer it for HLL-only code; here it is:

type fnptr = ref proc repeat fnptr(pcptr^)^() # ^ means pointer deref until stopped 

My ASM-based approach works well with low-level, integer-based algoriths; not so well on more typical scripting-type code using higher level data types. Fortunately my style of coding is the former: I like to use my scripting language for low-level tasks because it is nicer.
So, how much faster is -ASM? On suitable apps, it can be 2-3 times as fast as -FN. But on one task I checked today, it was 8 times as fast. This was to apply 8x8 blurring to a 2Mpixel colour image (not what you'd normally do in scripting code, but that's the kind of program I want to speed up):

 -fn 8 seconds -fn 5.6 seconds (transpiled to C then using `gcc-O3`) -asm 1 second 

The interpreter is in my 'M' language which does not have an effective optimiser (it exists, but only works when there are local variables involved; interpretation mainly involves globals). The middle timing is when the HLL-only version is transpiled to C.
Here, if the inner loops of the task are isolated, the difference is nearer 10:1 (6.2 seconds vs. 0.6 seconds).
Comparison with Python and Lua
HLL code (ie. using -fn) is on a par with those two languages when not JITed, and when testing the usually micro-probenchmarks. But my language has quite a few features helpful in making low-level code efficient, such as compile-time named constants, and jumptable-based switch (those go together).
So when used for real programs, My Q language (I've forgotten to mention its name above) can be quite a bit faster, even before acceleration.
When the -asm dispatcher is used, then Q is even faster. Comparing -asm against PyPy, it is typically half the speed when testing typical benchmarks, but is still miles behind LuaJIT which can achieve C-like speeds.
With more substantial tests forever, then -asm is about the same as PyPy, and can just about match LuaJIT. Although this is based on 2 still smallish apps for Python, and 1 for Lua. Still, PyPy and LuaJIT use tracing-JIT methods; they will be executing customised native code. Mine is still a pure bytecode interpreter. PyPy in particular is big on loops, and can race head when loop counts are big enough.
How the ASM dispatcher works
The ASM dispatcher is an overlay applied on top of the normal, function-table-based HLL dispatcher. It started off like this:

• A bunch of threaded-code functons where created, one per bytecode, each mirroring the HLL handler
• During ASM dispatch, globals SP, PC and FP (frame pointer) needed for bytecode execution are kept in dedicated machine registers
• Initially, each ASM handler does nothing except call the HLL handler:
  • Save SP, PC, FP to globals
  • Call the HLL handler (which is responsible for stepping PC)
  • Reload SP, PC, FP to registers
  • Jump (not call) the next threaded-code function according to PC (its address is in PC⁾

At this point, the interpreter works as before, but it is not only just as slow as the FN dispatcher, but is even slower because of this extra overhead of the extra layer of functions, and saving/restoring those registers.
It is necessary to speed it up, which is done by gradually populating the ASM handlers, in one of three ways:

• (1) Do nothing. The op is too complex to do in inline ASM, so will always be a little slower (but such an op is slower anyway)
• (2) Do part of it in inline ASM, for example by checking for simple int or float operands, and dealing with this here. Otherwise it will abort and call the HLL version. Or an error is detected so it will again call the HLL which can handle that better.
• (3) The instruction is simple enough to do entirely here, such as unconditional jump.

So some ops will be faster then FN, some might be a bit slower; the hope is that there is a net benefit in performance, and that is generally the case.
Bytecode Combinations Another small improvement is to take two or sometimes three bytecode instructions that frequently occur in sequence, and combine them into a single bytecode, sometimes also avoiding using the stack. For example, push b; pop a becomes move a, b.
(Yes, my interpreter is not only stack-based, but it also manipulates 128-bit descriptors rather than the usual 64-bit one; it doesn't appear to suffer!)
But it can only do this for the few dozen I've hard-coded within the interpreter. This could be done in HLL-code too, but is not worth the trouble; if I want speed, I use -asm which is the default dispatch mode.
Further Improvements
The Q language has optional type annotations, left over from an abandoned version. If applied, there is scope to use even more specialised handlers, since I will know their types. However, using type annotations can also slow things down, since to use them safely, means lots more checking that the types of variables are what they should be, or needing to pply suitable conversions.
If I go this route, there is also the possibility of generating longer sequences of native code, synthesised at runtime and customised to the input program. But this is encroaching into JIT-terrority (not tracing-JIT since my approach would be done AOT before execution starts).
(My preference however, is to mark entire functions as ones to be translated to native code, which require annotations, and which are translated by some as-yet unknown means, possibly invoking my separate systems compiler. Or even just doing it manually via copy+paste, since the two languages have the same syntax.)
BTW here is the function at the centre of that image-blur task I mentioned above (it works by separating an RGB image into 3 8-bit images and doing one at a time then recomposing); it uses byte-pointers:

proc iblurhoz8(bm,n)= shift:=shifts{n,1} # convert 2,4,8 etc to 1,2,3 etc w:=bm.dimx h:=bm.dimy for y:=0 to h-1 do p:=bmgetrowptr(bm,y) to w-n-1 do sum:=0 q:=p to n do sum+:=q++^ od p++^:=sum>>shift od od end 

My animals gave us a cute bird bath but it broke and no longer holds water. I'm okay with that since it was too small to put a little solar bubbler in it so this is a good excuse to buy a larger one. I live at the edge of the woods and was thinking of getting the bowl to set on one of the rocks in my garden. I also wanted to add a little bubbler, since I heard that helps. I like the look of the concrete ones but can't find one large enough (bowl only) and worry it might be too heavy if I need to move it. Any suggestions on what else I need to look for? A neighbor has one that's 20" and it seems to be a good size. I know it can't be too deep and that maybe we should add rocks to get different depths for smaller birds and bees.
Thanks in advance! I'm trying to do the research first and not just buy the first thing I see...which is what I want to do 🤪

Previous Chapter - Read 10 weeks ahead on Patreon - Read the story so far on Royal Road
*
Chapter Thirteen - Bridge Over Swift Water (Part II)
​
The cottage beside the mill was not large, and its low ceilings were packed with all manner of cupboards, shelves, chairs and tables, pressed in against the walls in a maze of well-worn clutter. The result was a rather overcrowded space, and Ren was forced to take more care than usual so as not to bump into anything when they entered, but the hearth was broad, and the smell of cooking filled the air, so it did not take long to settle into a comfortable lull of pleasant talk around the table whilst they waited for their lunch. Ted's wife, a young, slender woman with dark, smiling eyes and shoulder-length fair hair, hurried about the fire busily, stirring and seasoning her pots with a methodical efficiency. A mug arrived for each of them (water for the boys, something stronger for Ted), and they talked for a time of small things, of the weather and the harvest, hoping for a mild winter, idle talk for idle minds. Even Trin seemed to have relaxed in the lazy firelight, though he was more quiet than usual. Ren thought of how scared he had been of the miller as a boy, remembering the fearsome man with his scarred neck and deep voice that had raked their dinner table at the farm with his dark eyes. It was a memory that fit the man beside him about as well as a child’s boot might fit its fathers. He started to feel a little guilty for avoiding him, whenever he visited the farm.
‘Heard you were heading to Overwood, last week.’
Ren blinked, looking up from the fire to find Ted watching him over his mug. He swallowed.
‘Took a cart to the market with grandfather.’
‘How is the old goat?’
Ren hesitated. ‘He’s… he’s well.’
Ted took a swig of his ale, not a little wistfully. ‘Used to live up there, you know. Overwood, I mean. After the soldiering, when the Black Breath took my Da. Coughed up his own lungs, ‘fore it got ‘im. Always was a scrapper. Not easy, losing someone like that.’
Ren swallowed, looking away, and the miller’s eyes softened.
‘Your Ma, too, boy, I know. Damn shame.’ he said apologetically, and Ren decided not to correct him. ‘Long time before I came out here, anyways.’
‘You fought in the war?’ Trin asked tentatively.
‘I fought in the rebellion, boy.’ Ted corrected him. ‘Was only one King, back then.’
Trin swallowed, looking at the floor.
‘But that was a long time ago now. Afore you were born, I reckon. Not a lot of work for soldiers in peacetime. Must have dug half the privies in Overwood before I earned the coin to up sticks.'
‘Earned?’ Werla snorted from beside the fire, cheeks dimpling. ‘Swindled, more like.’
Ren looked over at her. He had always thought her a little young for the old miller. He was well past forty, and with his weathered brow and ugly scar he was hardly an obvious match for a pretty young girl not long from twenty when they had wed a couple of summers back. He wondered, not for the first time, how they had fallen in together to begin with.
‘Now, don't be giving our guests the wrong idea.’ Ted told her, grinning, and the scar on his neck knotted. He turned back to the boys, holding up his hands earnestly. ‘An honest game of chance, I swear it. Northerner, he was, didn't know dice from a pebble.’
Ren and Trin both nodded sagely at his explanation, neither of them knowing one jot about dice, or gambling, or Northerners, for that matter. Werla swept to their rescue, appearing at the miller's shoulder and planting a kiss on his cheek.
‘Swindled.’ she said pointedly.
Ted smiled in spite of himself, shooing her away. She chuckled and turned back to the stew, humming softly to herself.
‘I hear there’s a lot of new folk in town.’ Ted said, turning back to the boys. ‘From up in the Stonelands.’
‘Enough to notice.’ Ren replied, thinking of the unpleasantness on the road. He frowned. ‘Unfriendly types.’
‘Been a while since I made it over that way. Couple of winters back, now.’ He frowned thoughtfully, then smiled in Werla’s direction. ‘A lot can change in two years, though.’
Werla looked up, flashing him a smile, then went back to her stew pot again, humming. The miller paused, scratching at his scar, then gave the boys a curious look. ‘So, then. What brings you out this far?’
Ren lowered his eyes, and Trin shifted uncomfortably beside him. Ted laughed, weathered face creasing into a smile.
‘Come now.’ he told them. ‘Can’t hardly turn you over to your grandfather from here, can I?’
Ren swallowed. ‘We were just out for a ride…’
‘Mister Derin told us never to cross the bridge.’ Trin finished for him, scowling. ‘He said it was too far from the farm. Not safe, he said. So of course that’s exactly where Ren has to go. We’ll be in for it when we get back!’
‘You didn't have to come, Trin.’ Ren told his friend patiently. He thought of his grandfather’s old map, carved with rivers and mountains and cities in dark ink. The Swiftwater wasn’t even big enough to merit a line, and the distance they’d travelled this morning wouldn’t be more than a nails-breadth.
‘Well you didn't tell me where we were going.’ Trin replied, fidgeting nervously. His fingers twisted around a stray tear in his shirt, tugging at it. ‘And besides... Hardly going to let you go running off on your own. Too risky. It's not safe this far from the farm, for you most of all, so they says.’
‘Who’s they?’ Ren asked, scowling.
‘Hector. Your grandfather. And Ma, too! Everyone!’
‘Your Ma doesn’t know everything, Trin.’
‘Still a damn sight more than you!’
‘Easy, boys.’ Ted was smiling, and his scarred neck twisted. ‘I wager the north side of the river is much the same as this one.’
Trin lowered his eyes, and his cheeks reddened. Ren thought of the shadows moving in the trees over the bridge, the way he had fallen when Ted had found him, and started to feel very foolish indeed. His thoughts had been dark, unpredictable, these past few days, since the trip to Overwood. He never had been a good sleeper, but his nights had been more restless than usual, too, his dreams a little thicker with shadows. Shadows with faces, and a hunchback with gold eyes to give them voice. Turning every doorway to the gloom of the fortuneteller’s tent, every flame the silver light of his brazier. He frowned at himself. Just rhymes and empty words. Best not to dwell on it.
‘Food's ready!’ Werla said suddenly from the fire, and a few moments later they had steaming bowls of fragrant brown stew sitting in front of them on the table. Ted carved up some slices of soft, pale bread for them to soak, and they set to eating it all in relative quiet for a time, content with good food and the soft warmth of the fire, and it was not long before all thoughts of the bridge, and the shadows beyond it, had gone entirely from Ren's mind. He found himself staring wearily into his cup, watching idly as the clear water rocked and rolled against the rim, listening to the rumble of the river outside.
‘Won’t turn to ale just by looking at it.’ Ted told him, and he looked up to find the miller looking at him curiously, taking another mouthful of bread. Trin was still quite engaged in his food, and Werla was sipping her mug contentedly, pale hair brushed back behind her ears.
‘What?’
‘Come, now, boy. What’s got you twisted?’ Ted asked, taking sip of his drink.
Ren hesitated. ‘I was thinking about the market.’ He said after a moment, looking up. It was true enough.
‘Ah. Town ain't what it used to be.’ Ted looked at him thoughtfully for a moment, then began rubbing his thumb around the rim of his mug, staring at it. His young wife watched him with a slight frown. ‘All these unsavoury types arriving. You hear the talk, even out here. City folk, some of them, and worse. Heard… there’s talk of Brothers abroad, up in the Westmere. Out in the open, again, like.’ He pressed harder against the mug, thumb turning white. Werla reached out and pulled his hand away, folding it in her own and meeting his eye. Ted frowned, squeezing her hand, and the ugly scar on his neck gleamed. Trin had stopped eating.
‘But the Westmere’s a long way from here, and I ain’t one to be complaining. Got a good roof over my head, and a good living. A good woman, too, and might have a son of my own by next winter, Makers willing.’ He grinned at Werla, putting a hand to her belly, and she smiled, pulling it to her mouth and kissing it softly. ‘Reckon I’m a lucky man.’
Ren smiled at them both, lowering his eyes.
‘Say hello to your folks, for me, boy. Tell your old man I better see his arse over here before the snows.’
Some words of thanks, warm, earnest ones, and one or two more for goodbye, then they were homeward bound again, ponies snorting in the afternoon sun, promises of a return visit ringing in their ears. Ren was left with the distinct feeling that he had misjudged the old miller, scar and all. But it wasn’t long before his thoughts turned towards the rumours he had imparted from the Westmere, his white knuckles pressed against his mug. To Hector’s words in the shadow of the farm hill. To the ugly fortuneteller and his tent of oddities and silver fire. Words whispered in the dark. He’d not mentioned the encounter in the tent to anyone. Not even his grandfather. In truth, he’d been doing his best not to think about it at all, without much success. He frowned, hunching over his saddle.
A mask on fire.
Neither of them spoke for a long while. Trin, for his part, was busy trying to subtly feed Pol the stash of small treats he had smuggled away from the cottage, glancing over at Ren occasionally to make sure he hadn’t noticed. He had, of course, but there was little use in pointing it out.
‘Trin.’ Ren said once they had crested the hill, looking back towards the river-bound cottage in the distance. Trin started and stuck his hand quickly back into his pocket, hiding a scrap of bread.
‘What?'’
‘You heard what Ted said?’ Ren asked. ‘About Brothers?’
Trin frowned. ‘Suppose so.’
Ren was still looking back the way they had come. 'What do you make of it?'
‘Reckon he’s right.’ Trin shrugged. ‘Westmere’s a long way away.’
He hesitated, frowning.
‘But Hector’s been saying it for years. Overwood’s not what it used to be. Strange folk coming and going by night. No safe place for good folk that side of the Swiftwater. Brothers or no.’
‘Grandad says there haven’t been Black Hand this far south in years.’ Ren murmured, still looking back towards the river. ‘Not since we were born, at least.’
‘Wouldn’t pay it any mind. Plenty to worry about without them.’ Trin told him, giving him a serious look. ‘You’ve been acting up more, these past few weeks. Ever since the old man came calling.’
‘Have I?’ Ren scowled, shooting his friend a sideways glance.
‘You know what I think about him.’ Trin told him seriously. ‘Can’t be trusted, that one. And you can’t be taking so many risks. Not with your… Well, you know.’
‘Your ma tell you that, too?’
‘Don’t make it wrong.’ Trin grumbled, turning away in his saddle and trotting off south over the crest of the hill. Ren waited a moment longer, frowning to himself, then followed him reluctantly. The sound of the river was long gone behind him, but he caught one final glimpse the gleaming water before he shook the reins and disappeared finally over the brow of the hill, bound for home.

Read the story so far on Royal Road - Series Page - Read 10 weeks ahead on Patreon
*
Chapter Thirteen - Bridge Over Swift Water (Part II)
The cottage beside the mill was not large, and its low ceilings were packed with all manner of cupboards, shelves, chairs and tables, pressed in against the walls in a maze of well-worn clutter. The result was a rather overcrowded space, and Ren was forced to take more care than usual so as not to bump into anything when they entered, but the hearth was broad, and the smell of cooking filled the air, so it did not take long to settle into a comfortable lull of pleasant talk around the ta-ble whilst they waited for their lunch. Ted's wife, a young, slender woman with dark, smiling eyes and shoulder-length fair hair, hurried about the fire busily, stirring and seasoning her pots with a methodical efficiency. A mug arrived for each of them (water for the boys, some-thing stronger for Ted), and they talked for a time of small things, of the weather and the harvest, hoping for a mild winter, idle talk for idle minds. Even Trin seemed to have relaxed in the lazy firelight, though he was more quiet than usual. Ren thought of how scared he had been of the miller as a boy, remembering the fearsome man with his scarred neck and deep voice that had raked their dinner table at the farm with his dark eyes. It was a memory that fit the man beside him about as well as a child’s boot might fit its fathers. He started to feel a little guilty for avoiding him, whenever he visited the farm.
‘Heard you were heading to Overwood, last week.’
Ren blinked, looking up from the fire to find Ted watching him over his mug. He swallowed.
‘Took a cart to the market with grandfather.’
‘How is the old goat?’
Ren hesitated. ‘He’s… he’s well.’
Ted took a swig of his ale, not a little wistfully. ‘Used to live up there, you know. Overwood, I mean. After the soldiering, when the Black Breath took my Da. Coughed up his own lungs, ‘fore it got ‘im. Always was a scrapper. Not easy, losing someone like that.’
Ren swallowed, looking away, and the miller’s eyes softened.
‘Your Ma, too, boy, I know. Damn shame.’ he said apologetically, and Ren decided not to correct him. ‘Long time before I came out here, anyways.’
‘You fought in the war?’ Trin asked tentatively.
‘I fought in the rebellion, boy.’ Ted corrected him. ‘Was only one King, back then.’
Trin swallowed, looking at the floor.
‘But that was a long time ago now. Afore you were born, I reckon. Not a lot of work for soldiers in peacetime. Must have dug half the privies in Overwood before I earned the coin to up sticks.'
‘Earned?’ Werla snorted from beside the fire, cheeks dimpling. ‘Swindled, more like.’
Ren looked over at her. He had always thought her a little young for the old miller. He was well past forty, and with his weathered brow and ugly scar he was hardly an obvious match for a pretty young girl not long from twenty when they had wed a couple of summers back. He wondered, not for the first time, how they had fallen in together to begin with.
‘Now, don't be giving our guests the wrong idea.’ Ted told her, grin-ning, and the scar on his neck knotted. He turned back to the boys, holding up his hands earnestly. ‘An honest game of chance, I swear it. Northerner, he was, didn't know dice from a pebble.’
Ren and Trin both nodded sagely at his explanation, neither of them knowing one jot about dice, or gambling, or Northerners, for that mat-ter. Werla swept to their rescue, appearing at the miller's shoulder and planting a kiss on his cheek.
‘Swindled.’ she said pointedly.
Ted smiled in spite of himself, shooing her away. She chuckled and turned back to the stew, humming softly to herself.
‘I hear there’s a lot of new folk in town.’ Ted said, turning back to the boys. ‘From up in the Stonelands.’
‘Enough to notice.’ Ren replied, thinking of the unpleasantness on the road. He frowned. ‘Unfriendly types.’
‘Been a while since I made it over that way. Couple of winters back, now.’ He frowned thoughtfully, then smiled in Werla’s direction. ‘A lot can change in two years, though.’
Werla looked up, flashing him a smile, then went back to her stew pot again, humming. The miller paused, scratching at his scar, then gave the boys a curious look. ‘So, then. What brings you out this far?’
Ren lowered his eyes, and Trin shifted uncomfortably beside him. Ted laughed, weathered face creasing into a smile.
‘Come now.’ he told them. ‘Can’t hardly turn you over to your grandfather from here, can I?’
Ren swallowed. ‘We were just out for a ride…’
‘Mister Derin told us never to cross the bridge.’ Trin finished for him, scowling. ‘He said it was too far from the farm. Not safe, he said. So of course that’s exactly where Ren has to go. We’ll be in for it when we get back!’
‘You didn't have to come, Trin.’ Ren told his friend patiently. He thought of his grandfather’s old map, carved with rivers and mountains and cities in dark ink. The Swiftwater wasn’t even big enough to merit a line, and the distance they’d travelled this morning wouldn’t be more than a nails-breadth.
‘Well you didn't tell me where we were going.’ Trin replied, fidget-ing nervously. His fingers twisted around a stray tear in his shirt, tug-ging at it. ‘And besides... Hardly going to let you go running off on your own. Too risky. It's not safe this far from the farm, for you most of all, so they says.’
‘Who’s they?’ Ren asked, scowling.
‘Hector. Your grandfather. And Ma, too! Everyone!’
‘Your Ma doesn’t know everything, Trin.’
‘Still a damn sight more than you!’
‘Easy, boys.’ Ted was smiling, and his scarred neck twisted. ‘I wa-ger the north side of the river is much the same as this one.’
Trin lowered his eyes, and his cheeks reddened. Ren thought of the shadows moving in the trees over the bridge, the way he had fallen when Ted had found him, and started to feel very foolish indeed. His thoughts had been dark, unpredictable, these past few days, since the trip to Overwood. He never had been a good sleeper, but his nights had been more restless than usual, too, his dreams a little thicker with shad-ows. Shadows with faces, and a hunchback with gold eyes to give them voice. Turning every doorway to the gloom of the fortuneteller’s tent, every flame the silver light of his brazier. He frowned at himself. Just rhymes and empty words. Best not to dwell on it.
‘Food's ready!’ Werla said suddenly from the fire, and a few mo-ments later they had steaming bowls of fragrant brown stew sitting in front of them on the table. Ted carved up some slices of soft, pale bread for them to soak, and they set to eating it all in relative quiet for a time, content with good food and the soft warmth of the fire, and it was not long before all thoughts of the bridge, and the shadows beyond it, had gone entirely from Ren's mind. He found himself staring wearily into his cup, watching idly as the clear water rocked and rolled against the rim, listening to the rumble of the river outside.
‘Won’t turn to ale just by looking at it.’ Ted told him, and he looked up to find the miller looking at him curiously, taking another mouthful of bread. Trin was still quite engaged in his food, and Werla was sip-ping her mug contentedly, pale hair brushed back behind her ears.
‘What?’
‘Come, now, boy. What’s got you twisted?’ Ted asked, taking sip of his drink.
Ren hesitated. ‘I was thinking about the market.’ He said after a moment, looking up. It was true enough.
‘Ah. Town ain't what it used to be.’ Ted looked at him thoughtfully for a moment, then began rubbing his thumb around the rim of his mug, staring at it. His young wife watched him with a slight frown. ‘All these unsavoury types arriving. You hear the talk, even out here. City folk, some of them, and worse. Heard… there’s talk of Brothers abroad, up in the Westmere. Out in the open, again, like.’ He pressed harder against the mug, thumb turning white. Werla reached out and pulled his hand away, folding it in her own and meeting his eye. Ted frowned, squeezing her hand, and the ugly scar on his neck gleamed. Trin had stopped eating.
‘But the Westmere’s a long way from here, and I ain’t one to be complaining. Got a good roof over my head, and a good living. A good woman, too, and might have a son of my own by next winter, Makers willing.’ He grinned at Werla, putting a hand to her belly, and she smiled, pulling it to her mouth and kissing it softly. ‘Reckon I’m a lucky man.’
Ren smiled at them both, lowering his eyes.
‘Say hello to your folks, for me, boy. Tell your old man I better see his arse over here before the snows.’
Some words of thanks, warm, earnest ones, and one or two more for goodbye, then they were homeward bound again, ponies snorting in the afternoon sun, promises of a return visit ringing in their ears. Ren was left with the distinct feeling that he had misjudged the old miller, scar and all. But it wasn’t long before his thoughts turned towards the ru-mours he had imparted from the Westmere, his white knuckles pressed against his mug. To Hector’s words in the shadow of the farm hill. To the ugly fortuneteller and his tent of oddities and silver fire. Words whispered in the dark. He’d not mentioned the encounter in the tent to anyone. Not even his grandfather. In truth, he’d been doing his best not to think about it at all, without much success. He frowned, hunching over his saddle.
A mask on fire.
Neither of them spoke for a long while. Trin, for his part, was busy trying to subtly feed Pol the stash of small treats he had smuggled away from the cottage, glancing over at Ren occasionally to make sure he hadn’t noticed. He had, of course, but there was little use in pointing it out.
‘Trin.’ Ren said once they had crested the hill, looking back towards the river-bound cottage in the distance. Trin started and stuck his hand quickly back into his pocket, hiding a scrap of bread.
‘What?'’
‘You heard what Ted said?’ Ren asked. ‘About Brothers?’
Trin frowned. ‘Suppose so.’
Ren was still looking back the way they had come. 'What do you make of it?'
‘Reckon he’s right.’ Trin shrugged. ‘Westmere’s a long way away.’
He hesitated, frowning.
‘But Hector’s been saying it for years. Overwood’s not what it used to be. Strange folk coming and going by night. No safe place for good folk that side of the Swiftwater. Brothers or no.’
‘Grandad says there haven’t been Black Hand this far south in years.’ Ren murmured, still looking back towards the river. ‘Not since we were born, at least.’
‘Wouldn’t pay it any mind. Plenty to worry about without them.’ Trin told him, giving him a serious look. ‘You’ve been acting up more, these past few weeks. Ever since the old man came calling.’
‘Have I?’ Ren scowled, shooting his friend a sideways glance.
‘You know what I think about him.’ Trin told him seriously. ‘Can’t be trusted, that one. And you can’t be taking so many risks. Not with your… Well, you know.’
‘Your ma tell you that, too?’
‘Don’t make it wrong.’ Trin grumbled, turning away in his saddle and trotting off south over the crest of the hill. Ren waited a moment longer, frowning to himself, then followed him reluctantly. The sound of the river was long gone behind him, but he caught one final glimpse the gleaming water before he shook the reins and disappeared finally over the brow of the hill, bound for home.

Looking for someone to haul off a bunch of brush/dead tree. Don’t need any trees dropped. Probably a half day job for a small crew. Y’all got any good recommendations?

First: https://redd.it/11e34ce
Previous: https://redd.it/142fe2y
Chapter 32
As Mae had previewed, the weeks that passed since the incident in the Logistics Bay were fraught with speculation and feeding the rumor mill. Quin felt he couldn’t walk ten paces on Nemo before meeting some askance gaze of a crewmember or hearing the murmurings of a conversation that abruptly stopped when he would round a corner. Mae was right though that, after a while, the incident became old news and the ruckus died down a bit. Certainly, there was always an inappropriate joke to be had during dinner or dark looks from certain members of the crew, but as the time passed, people turned once again to daily happenings onboard, when the next stopover would take place, and the perennial favorite: who happened to be sleeping with whom.
This last item tended to occupy people to no end, and Quin felt a bit unfortunate that this news also pertained him. Mae and Liza’s breakup and the apparent spat that he and Pepper had ran through the corridors just as fast as the news about Nova. Quin was honestly unsure which conversation he dreaded being brought up more. It seemed that individuals he had never or barely even met knew more about his world than he himself was aware. It was during one of these conversations with two people from the Engineering section that Quin accidently lost it and stormed off, an act he regretted immediately for furthering the gossip chain.
“So is it true that you had to hold Mae back so she wouldn’t punch Liza?” the guy had asked.
”What? NO. What the hell?” Quin responded, flabbergasted.
“Well, I heard from someone in the officer’s corridor that there was yelling and someone got hit. Do you know who got punched?” The other person was practically on their toes with anticipation.
“NO ONE GOT PUNCHED!” Quin shouted, ready to leave the conversation as soon as possible.
“Jeez, why are you yelling?” as the first person, blind to Quin’s growing frustration.
“Don’t you know, Liza’s friend broke up with him the next day because of the fight?” The second person remarked to the first, now completely cutting Quin out of the conversation.
“WE WEREN’T EVEN DATING! WHAT THE HELL?!” Quin screamed, turned on his heels and stormed off to nowhere in particular.
Thankfully, this was probably the worst interaction he had had as a result of those unfortunate few days, aside from the actual conversations themselves that he experienced with Pepper and Nova themselves. He would have appreciated any interaction with either of them at all, if he was honest. The silent treatment from the both of them was practically unbearable. Mae’s words of encouragement, “Time, give it time,” only helped so much when he would pass by Pepper in the corridors or when he had to work directly with Nova during his long shifts in the lab. Nova had limited their conversations to something like a comment box, dropping in parcels of a conversation to the syslog, to be taken up at her leisure and delivered at inconvenient times in the middle of the night. But at the very least, Nova was responding, albeit specifically for work and solely related to their responsibilities together. Pepper, on the other hand, was completely mute. Painfully so, Quin noted as she passed by him going into the cafeteria and didn’t even afford him a glance.
The level of complete non-interaction with Pepper and the invasion into his life by everyone else was beginning to wear on him, and he felt more cut off from the rest of the crew than ever before. He had stopped visiting Bostwick’s chamber for fear of the look of pity that the Commander often wore when passing by him. At least Mae had somewhat of a ‘tough love’ approach to cheering him up. Bostwick’s uncompromising warmth and sympathetic looks made Quin feel guilty rather than comforted, and shameful rather than encouraged. In fact, in the two and a half weeks that passed since Nemo had left the Rhea stopover and Quin passed the night under the watch of the Commander, Quin had only exchanged glances with Bostwick.
Then there was the insomnia. At first, Quin felt nothing but lethargy as he felt the different components of his life crumble around him. The inability to communicate with Tess, the intolerable pity of Mae and Bostwick, the unbearable silence from Pepper and Nova, the frustration expressed by the command staff, and the whispers and side-eyes from the rest of the crew all contributed to the complete physical and mental shutdown he experienced after leaving Rhea. He would steal away to his chamber during break periods to nap, and he would skip meals in order to stay in his room, profiting from the odd bits of food Mae snuck out of the cafeteria. However, after several days of feeling an inability to motivate himself to be out of bed, he started to find that he would lie awake, staring at the ceiling, or glancing at the clock and fretting that it was already 4:00 in the morning.
It was on one of these early mornings that Quin saw the numbers 3:22 at the top of his tablet, and he felt as if it would be impossible for him to find any sleep that night. He had laid down in bed at 22:05 with every intention of forcing a good night’s sleep, but with five hours passing by and no respite coming, he sat up on the edge of his bed and rubbed his eyes a bit. He figured that the coffee station in the kitchen would probably have some hot water with which to make tea, and that could possibly help him. He threw his jumpsuit and boots on and strolled out of the room.
The ship was deserted and peaceful, the type of quiet that Quin relished. It was almost trance-inducing, the soft hum of the ship that Quin felt coming through the very walls themselves. He felt the sound reverberate through him and it was soothing. He set off toward the kitchen. The sleet grey walls of Nemo’s interior usually made for a serious backdrop, but at this hour, it had the effect of dimming the corridors and adding to the sleepy atmosphere of the ship. He stuffed his hands deep in his pockets and followed the sleek lines of the hallways with his eyes as he passed. He came upon the cafeteria doors and walked by them to skirt the main room. He was heading for the back area, the sparkling room with gleaming metal and white tile and a peaceful getaway. Upon swiping his arm against the pad, though, he found that the space was already occupied. A voice greeted him before he had an opportunity to look up.
“Hey Quin, can’t sleep? Is it another bad dream?” Bostwick was sitting on a stool with a steaming cup of coffee in his hand and his illuminated tablet resting on one of the food prep work tables. The man had a weary look around his eyes but Quin could still discern the warmth that emanated from the wrinkles near his temples and the large smile he wore. Quin froze, unsure whether to step into the room and submit himself to another round of pity or try to find some excuse for leaving and head back to his room. In his uncertainty, he ended up standing in the doorway, causing the automatic doors to try to swish shut but freezing and retracting, over and over again.
“Well? Are you just going to stand there, mouth agape, or are you going to come get something to drink like you had planned?” Bostwick said with an eyebrow raised, his mouth now reflecting a knowing smirk. Slowly, Quin trudged into the room, his hands clenched in his pockets as he tried to suppress the nerves that were boiling in his stomach. He gingerly walked over to the coffee station and put a tea bag in a cup and pressed the release valve to allow boiling water to fall over it. Then he set the cup down to steep. He kept his eyes fixed on the surface of the brewing tea, though he felt the hair on the nape of his neck stand as he guarded himself for Bostwick’s eventual conversation starter. But after a minute, it didn’t come. Quin stood there watching the deep brown tea diffuse throughout the water but did not hear a word come from Bostwick. Hesitantly, Quin looked around and saw Bostwick tapping on his tablet, seemingly composing a message.
Quin shuffled his feet a bit before clearing his throat lightly. Without even looking up, Bostwick said, “I’m able to read signs, Quin. If you don’t want to talk to me, I’m more than happy to oblige your intention to be left alone.”
Quin’s eyes shot up to look at Bostwick, who kept on typing as if he hadn’t spoken. Quin was left a bit taken aback. Oh hell, he thought, is it that obvious or can he read my mind? He shuffled again and then picked up his tea cup. Quick, say something, you idiot, his mind was screaming at him as he struggled to put together his words.
“Look, uh, Commander, I—“ Quin started, but was immediately cut off.
“Louis, but please continue,” Bostwick said, looking up at him and smiling.
Whatever momentum Quin had built up in trying to speak, he lost it with Bostwick’s interruption. He started to second-guess even his need to speak if Bostwick was going to be able to anticipate the conversation. His mentor apparently picked up on his nervousness, because he relieved Quin’s tension by taking up what was going through Quin’s head.
“Quin, listen, I understand that you feel like you want to be left alone,” Bostwick said, his tone soft and unassailing. “And I’m sensing that you feel a bit embarrassed about being vulnerable in front of me. That’s a totally normal human feeling. I hope you aren’t feeling, though, that I overstepped any boundaries by not waking you up immediately when you fell asleep in my room?”
“No, uh, Louis, it’s not that,” Quin said abashedly.
“Good, I’m glad. So if you are feeling ashamed about the way I show that I care about you, please just tell me, and we can talk about how I can change that.”
Again, Quin was at a loss for words. It’s not that I don’t want him to care about me, he thought, it’s that I want him to be mad. Why wasn’t he angry at all? That I could deal with. But he’s so kind that I feel like I want to scream. Quin lifted his eyes and finally met Bostwick’s own piercing gaze. Bostwick seemed to interpret the silence and took up the conversation again.
“Unless…perhaps you are feeling ashamed about your own reaction?” Bostwick posited. “Quin, it’s almost the twenty-third century, well actually, for everyone not aboard this ship, it already is. We are long past the cultural stereotype of men not being able to cry. I’d say that your expression of deep emotion is quite masculine, and I for one would—“
Quin interrupted him, “No, Louis, it’s not that either.”
Bostwick fell silent for a moment, then continued gently, “Okay, again, if you wouldn’t like to discuss it right now, you can simply have your tea and we can sip our respective beverages in silence. Though I will note that a 3am excursion raises all sorts of eyebrows that a lesser XO would rush to conclusions. Thankfully for you, I’m not a lesser XO.” He ended with a smirk, returning to his tablet with a very self-satisfied look on his face.
Quin let the silence fill the room again as he turned his cup in his hands, the warmth slowly radiating through his cold fingertips and seemingly giving him a bit of courage. After a moment, he slowly walked over to the work table and set his cup down. Again, without looking up, Bostwick pulled a stool out from underneath the table and pushed it toward Quin. Quin couldn’t help but smile a bit at Bostwick’s level of tact in assuming. He took the proffered stool and plopped himself down, elbows on the work table and eyes fixed on the tea cup. Hesitantly, he glanced at Bostwick, who was humming a tune and slowly shaking his head back and forth in rhythm as he completed his message and hit the send button.
Quin cleared his throat and made his attempt, “Commander, uh sorry, Louis, it’s not that I don’t appreciate everything. I really do. I just…I was just wishing you would be less…I don’t know…understanding? A little more mad?”
“I have no intention of being mad at you Quin. That would be counterproductive and a waste of energy. Wouldn’t you say?”
“Well, I um, what do you mean?” Quin shook his head as his eyes fell.
“I’d imagine that your self-imposed reclusion and the restrictions imposed by Captain Fuentes would be a sufficient punishment, and you are probably looking for a friendly face, especially after things with Ensign Jefferson, erm, Pepper, have recently soured. That would leave you with Mae to seek some company and I daresay that Lieutenant Rohlwing has her own mission responsibilities and personal tumult to deal with, no?”
Quin was staring with his mouth open at Bostwick, who yet again was wearing a rather pleased smirk on his face. How in the hell did he know all of that? Quin thought, unable to keep an astounded look off his face.
Bostwick chuckled, then seemingly replied to Quin’s thought, “You people think the command staff are a bunch of old farts out of touch with the inner workings of the social network among you youths, but I too hear things. I have my spies on board.”
Quin laughed, causing Bostwick to perk up a bit, “Oh alright,” he rejoiced, arms up in the air. “Ten points to Bostwick for making the moody one laugh.”
Quin laughed more heartily and took a sip of his tea. When he looked back up he saw Bostwick was staring at him with an encouraging look on his face, as if to say May I keep asking questions? Quin sipped his tea again and nodded softly, almost to himself as he continued to chuckle.
“So, I take it you and Ms. Jefferson have not spoken much since we set off from Rhea?” Bostwick asked, eyebrow raised.
“No, that would require her wanting to speak to me,” Quin said dryly.
“How do you know she doesn’t want to speak to you?” Bostwick asked.
“Well, she seems to avoid or ignore me, so I’m trying to take the hint,” Quin said, trying to be nonchalant in his tone.
“Do you still like her?” Bostwick continued.
“Yeah, a lot. I thought we were doing well, really well on Rhea, but I said some stupid things in defending Mae to her, and I know I need to apologize, but she basically called me a coward, she said I needed to ‘grow a spine.’” Quin quickly gave Bostwick the back and forth of what constituted Pepper and his last conversation.
“I don’t think you are a coward. You do have a tendency to take your relationships with everyone very seriously, which is for the most part endearing, but I can see how she would find that stubbornness a bit frustrating when she is trying to argue with it.”
“So now you are on her side?” Quin said sharply.
“I wouldn’t dare try to take her side, but you don’t need to bite my head off for trying to give you some advice. I can see it’s not welcome though,” Bostwick said flatly, falling silent.
“No…wait, I’m sorry,” Quin said, changing his tone immediately. “Please, Louis, help me. What should I do?”
“An honest apology to start, you would be surprised how far being honest and sincere gets you. People seem to forget that. Then I would try to start seeing Ms. Jefferson outside of your interactions with Mae and Liza. Give yourselves something to talk about other than your common friends. That way you don’t revert into difficult territory immediately.”
“Like what?” Quin asked. “Watch a movie with her or something?”
“That being your strong, go-to approach, sure you could start there,” Bostwick said. “As an extra hint, I hear that the kitchen has some late-night snacks stashed away back here, and if you know someone, you can get good movie food. You could even, you know, call it a date or something. Don’t be afraid to ask her to do something at the next stopover too. Again, call it a date. If she sees you taking her seriously like you do everything else, she’ll probably appreciate you being intentional about it. That’s my guess. Anyway, Cronus is supposed to be a little bit more of an open schedule, so you can be more creative.”
Bostwick was making all sorts of sense. His was the type of advice that Quin had been looking for all along. Quin found himself shaking his head, as he processed everything. Bostwick seemed to misinterpret it.
“What? You’re thinking a different approach?” he said, a bit surprised.
“NO! No, sorry, it’s just…I’ve been such an idiot. That’s really good advice, I’ve just been stupid not talking to you. I don’t know why,” Quin finished, again shaking his head.
“Because you are young, and you guys don’t like getting romantic advice from someone your parents’ age,” Bostwick said, smiling.
“You aren’t that old,” Quin said, “I know we joke about it, but you can’t be more than…”
Bostwick laughed. “Be careful how you finish that sentence, Mr. Hammond.”
“Well, anyway, you aren’t that old. You just…I don’t know, you have this way about you, it made me want to avoid you. I felt ashamed that you were being all sympathetic, and it made me blind to the fact that I really needed to talk to you. What I mean is, you are a good listener, and I forgot that when I was unable to think straight. I felt all of these things happening around me, and you were there when that stuff happened with Nova. I know you were just trying to be nice. I’m sorry I was such an ass.”
“Well, if you were looking for honest and sincere apologies, Quin, you just found yourself one,” Bostwick said, putting his hand on Quin’s shoulder. “Change it up a little to be specific for her, and I’m sure you will have a good result. Don’t forgot to take care of yourself when you are trying to fix everything else, you know? It’s not possible to be perfect, so don’t make yourself sick in trying to be.”
“Yeah, right,” Quin said softly. “I wish I could fix everything, just like that.” He snapped his fingers.
“That would be nice, but unfortunately, we aren’t computers, and life isn’t all math problems. Sometimes life just needs time and a bit of decent humanity.” The two of them were silent for a little while as Quin stewed in his thoughts. Despite the hour, he was wide awake and appreciative of his little night excursion. After the pause had continued much longer than Quin expected, he looked up and saw Bostwick studying him. The man opened his mouth and then hesitated, before beginning tenderly, “Speaking of, how are things going with Nova?”
Quin sighed a bit, collecting his thoughts. Then he decided it was for the best and recounted to Bostwick the last conversation that Nova and he had face to face. The two of them had really not spoken since that evening some weeks ago. As Quin was narrating the story to Bostwick, the Commander was slightly chuckling and shaking his head. Astounded, Quin finished his story and confronted Bostwick.
“What’s so funny?” he demanded. “You’ve been laughing the entire time.”
“She’s quite brilliant, you know,” Bostwick said, scratching his forehead, eyes wide. “She presents these neat little ethical quandaries as if they were nothing and yet, scientists and philosophers have been asking the same types of questions about artificial intelligence for maybe two hundred years. It’s only now that we have got a being that is the walking and talking example of that.”
“Yeah, well, she’s another one that’s not talking to me,” Quin said.
“Well, Quin, I’m afraid I must give you the same advice. You should apologize. In her view, and I think objectively, you were somewhat of, if I may borrow your words, ‘an ass.’”
“This time I think you are definitely taking her side,” Quin said, sourly.
“Indeed. You created her. She takes her direction from you. You are kind of like her father, her brother, her friend, and her crewmate all rolled into one. The obligations of any one of those roles would be enough to say you needed to be there for her, and unfortunately you found yourself too busy being in your own head. Perhaps this is the root of your problem with both Ms. Jefferson and Nova. You are so busy letting everything weigh on you, being worried all the time, that you are unable to focus externally and be present for other people.” Quin’s eyes were downcast, his shoulders slumped. Well, if this is his form of a closing pick-me-up, I don’t think it’s working, Quin thought, sighing deeply.
“Fortunately,” Bostwick continued suddenly, “I think the solution is relatively simple and similar. You need to apologize to Nova, sincerely this time, and you need to spend some time with her, outside of work, so that you can normalize being around her. If your point was that you sometimes forget that she is only part human, then you need to do more human things with her in order to sensitize yourself to how she acts. She shouldn’t have to change for you, it should be the other way around. She can’t just be a mantelpiece in your career, Quin. She thinks.”
Quin sighed aloud, saying, “Yet again, another piece of sound advice from the ever-so-sage Commander Bostwick. And yet again, the solution is that I was wrong.”
Bostwick laughed. “Well, welcome to being an adult, my friend. Everything is complicated and you are usually wrong.” He patted Quin on the back. “Sarcasm aside, it’s okay to be wrong, just own up to it.”
Quin nodded slightly, acknowledging Bostwick’s counsel. The room was silent for a bit longer. The Commander downed his cup of coffee and looked into it, as if inspecting the bottom.
“You know what,” he said, looking up. “I think I’m going to have some tea too, but I’ve been keen to try some of the apple honey they brought me, you want some?” Quin nodded slowly, lost in his thought. Honey, he said to himself, honey, something about…honey.
“Can you believe they make all of this on Rhea?” Bostwick said over his shoulder. “I honestly can’t understand how their entire ecosystem, let alone their economy, operates off apples. It’s nuts.” Bostwick chuckled to himself. “Sorry for the pun.” Apples and honey, Quin’s brain was churning, but at this hour it was too fuzzy. …and honey.
He set two new cups down in front of them, still steaming and with the tea infusers bobbing around on the surface. He pulled a jar down from one of the kitchen cabinets and ladled a small bit of honey into each cup. After stirring a bit, Bostwick took a sip and smacked his lips, grinning satisfactorily at Quin.
“Oh my, that’s so good,” Bostwick said, relishing the taste as he took another draw. “You should drink it while it’s hot.”
Quin brought the cup to his lips mechanically, though he could have sworn that he was missing something. He felt himself distracted by Louis enjoying his cup of tea, the early hour, and the lack of a good night’s sleep for several days. I could have sworn that I just remembered something, he thought, growing frustrated at the lack of ability of his brain to recall what it was that was escaping him. Resigning himself, he took a long swig, his eyes closing automatically when the taste of the sweet and sour apple-tinged honey hit his lips. Instantly, he was transported back onto Rhea, where he savored several fleeting moments of being away and being happy. Unfortunately, his happiness was suddenly ripped away from the call from Nemo. What I wouldn’t give to be back there to have some more time with Pepper and Mae, he thought while recollecting the honey tasting in the orchard. He remembered the smile on Pepper’s face, how infectious it was, and Mae’s giggling at him.
“Hmm,” Bostwick said into the silence, “it’s just about time that the command deck wakes up. Some of the buzzing should start soon.”
“Buzzing?” Quin asked distantly, almost half-consciously.
“Sorry, yeah, buzzing. Message traffic. Unfortunately, a lot of the lingo revolves around bees.”
“Bees?” Quin asked, his brain slowly coming to.
“Yeah, bees,” Bostwick said, studying Quin curiously. “You know, Captain Fuentes being the Queen, the Deck being the hive, that sort of thing.”
“Bees!” Quin exclaimed.
“What?” Bostwick demanded, flabbergasted.
“Louis! BEES!” Quin shouted, shooting off his stool and slamming his cup down.
“Quin, I don’t-“ Bostwick began, but Quin wasn’t listening. The young man half-sprinted out of the room.
“BEES!” Quin shouted again, his face mixed with a smile and intense concentration.
“Okay, Mr. Cage,” Bostwick said, chuckling and shaking his head, his eyes and mouth reflecting a knowing smile as he watched Quin run out of the room.

I'm not very good at writing, so I'm sorry if things don't make sense.
I can't do any subject in school without help, no matter how hard I try I always need a teacher to help me, even in art. I really really hate it, culminating assignments are being handed out and I feel so fukcing stupid, I have to sit in Student Success a lot and I dont even get anything done in there. I've been called stupid my whole life so it makes me not want to try anymore. I feel like, no matter what I do, I'll never ever get good grades or marks. I'll never be seen as smart and I'll never get a high mark on my tests, exams or assignments. I don't even know how to write already written sentences into my own words. I am useless, I have 50% in all my subjects and I want to runaway half of the time. It can be the easiest work sheet in the world and I'll still have 1000 questions. I don't have confidence in my work anymore, I've given up on caring. 37% on a test? Okay, 43% on another? I do not care. It's hard to when I know I'll never improve without the help of teachers.
Sometimes I have to read paragraphs or small sentences over and over again to finally get them into my brain, it's like it goes in one ear and out the other. I'm not even joking, I can read something and then forget it immediately. It's so hard to focus on things I don't want to do and I don't know why, I don't know why I'm like this and I hate it so much. One of my Teachers once asked me "Why don't you have the assignments done? You're the only one who hasn't finished them" and I couldn't respond. How can I tell you something that I don't even know? I don't know what's wrong with me, dude. But there must be a lot if I'm the only one who isn't done. I'm horrible at explaining things or telling stories, I'm all over the place, I forget big details and I always remember those details half way into the story.
I've written too much, I'm sorry.

Comment below then DM me. I accept PayPal and Venmo. Add $4 per order for shipping. — Bill Evans, Treasures. The recent RSD pressing. Played once, no issues with the vinyl. P3x LPs and jacket are NM. Has the booklet. $60.
John Coltrane with Red Garland, Soul Trane. The AP repress from 2022. Jacket and vinyl NM. $36. shipped CONUS.
Otis Redding, The Immortal Otis Redding. VMP pressing. Vinyl and jacket NM. $34. Jimi Hendrix, Band Of Gypsys. STAO-472. Green label “Capitol (r)” labels from 1970. Label and jacket have misprint, listing track B2 as “Power Of Soul”. More info here. Vinyl: Mostly VG with crackle and occasional repeated light tics that don’t overpower the music, but I'll add that parts of the latter half of Side B delve into G+ territory with some louder clicks. Gatefold jacket is also a strong VG with some minor edge wear and ring wear and a previous owner's name written in small letters on front. $12. James Brown & The Famous Flames, Plays Nothing But Soul. King 1034. Canadian “Regency” pressing. More info here. Fun slice of soul with Brown at the organ. AllMusic commentator puts it best: “The end result feels like a quiet after hours show at a smoky jazz club following a blinding gig.” Vinyl is strong VG, Side A plays mostly clean but there are a few spots of clicks repeated for several revolutions; Side B has no tics but a little bit of very light crackle here and there. Neither comes close to overpowering the music. Jacket is VG+ with just some minor age discoloration and a tiny bit of corner fraying. Fun album. $20

I love the look of a floating vanity but am conflicted on getting one for my bathroom remodel due to the decreased storage and that they are MDF. The consensus I’ve come across is that solid wood is the preferred choice over MDF in the bathroom. Does anyone have a floating vanity and can provide input on their experience. Functionality is probably just as important to me as aesthetics. This would be a 60” double sink in a master bath. Thanks!

So, to start things out, I am running a Pirate Themed campaign and am basing most of my ship-combat off the play-test Of Ships and The Sea UA that was released several years ago.
Broadly speaking, I like these rules because they give the Ship it's own turn to do stuff on (assuming crew positions have been filled) which means the PCs get to spend their turns doing PC stuff instead of sinking Actions/BAs to operate the ship.
Things have been chugging along quite nicely, and the party has just spent several weeks reclaiming an old derelict into a small sloop (1 mast, 8 bunks, 2 small ballista mounted on the deck) and I feel confident running both over-sea travel and most encounters using the UA listed above. My problem is that, in my world, the larger warships are supposed to have Cannons (most of the pirates also have flint locks and muskets as well, but their mechanics are pretty well covered).
In the upcoming session, the party is sailing to a nearby Lighthouse to parlay with an important NPC , hopefully to get information and resources. I am planning on having the baddies attack with the goal of destroying the lighthouse (it's lamp is magically ensuring that BBEG can't gain full strength).
This is supposed to be a climactic battle as the PCs have finally figured out who's on whose side and my ideal outcome (for narrative reasons) would be to destroy the Lighthouse and drive off the PCs.
I am looking for help with how to operate these ship cannons in a way that feels powerful without being overwhelming.
RAW, the ships have targeted attacks with Ballista (3d10 on hit) or Mangonels (5d10 on hit), and I'd be fine just slapping 'Cannon' flavor on the Mangonels for if the ship wants to target something specific.
However, I want to include a 'Broadside' mechanic where the ship opens up and fires all it's cannons (with the goal being structural dmg to the Lighthouse as well as effing up any PCs that are in the way)
My off-the-cuff idea was to make it force a DEX save to halve dmg and have it target everyone at once (including the Building), and then also assign some arbitrary number of HP to the Lighthouse that get's whittled down by these attacks, but I'm not sure how much damage I should actually be dealing on these attacks.
Party is 5x Lvl4 at this time (+ 1 ArchDruid NPC), so they're still relatively squishy (25-35HP) so if they fail their saves and I roll well on damage, 5d10 could wipe most of the party at once.
Any help balancing this would be much appreciated.

He had an actual role in Iron Man 2 and personally his best appearance (for me) was in Captain America : Civil War.
He was missing in The Avengers and had a small role in Age of Ultron which should have definitely been upsized. I mean what else was War Machine to do other than help the Avengers? He was MIA for most of the film along with in Iron Man 3 when he was missing from half the movie. Was Cheadle too busy filming something else?
He was only in Infinity War for a few mins, had a larger role in Endgame but his haracter seemed totally different from his initial hard as tooth military officer type.

Sorry for my english in advance
Hi, i recently started applying topical fin, the solution comes with a cone that’s supposed to cover like half of your head with a single spray (a spray contains 50 microliters and 114 micrograms of fin). The concentration is 2.275mg/ml (all this numbers are written on the box of the drug).
The point is that i still have decently long hair so i can’t use the cone because all the solution would go on my hair instead of the scalp.
To prevent this i simply put a glove, spray once into a small bowl, pull apart my hair and apply the small dosage.
The box says you shouldn’t apply more than 4 sprays, but to cover my head almost entirely i need like 7/8 sprays. (if i was bald i could simply put the cone in like 3 different zones and the particles of every spray would go on all the surface included in the cone, so 3 sprays would be enough i think)
Apparently following the instructions this is too much but isn’t this dosage ridiculously small compared to other topical solutions? i often hear people applying 1 ml
If you want to check it out the product is called “CARETOPIC”

Okay so my last post was a bit too vague i suppose. Thats on me!
I am looking for any and all advice you are willing to offer to me. What is the cheapest but best packing products youve experienced? What are some good tips on fitting everything into a carry on and personal item, or should i just go with a check bag? Or do all three? Anything random tidbit you would recommend?
Some context: I will be traveling from USA to UK for 3 weeks. Im going to be visiting my gf and her family, staying in a caravan (its a mobile home but they kept calling it a caravan). Ive never flown outside of the US before and the one time i was on a plane i was like 7 and it was for a wedding in Vermont so my experience with travel has never really reached out of the state i live in.
I can imagine we will be walking around a lot, i already have a small messenger bag i take with me everywhere that i use as a purse so that is the only piece of luggage i have atm. The trip is two months from now so i dont have too many detail on what we will be doing but there has been talk of going to the beach, aquarium, museums, and restaurants. There is apparently a washer and dryer so i assume i should pack for like a week and a half and reuse my clothes, yeah?
Im really just looking for tips and advice in general, sorry for the confusion in my last post. Lmk what else im missing and ill try to fill it in in the comments.

My husband started a new job 7 months ago. Like most jobs they tell you sweet things to get you in the door. It's been a great job but they pissed me off this past week. He had to go 4 hours away for company training. They are supposed to reimburse the gas it took to get there and back. It's how they do things. This was Wednesday. Gas prices as y'all know aren't cheap. It was over 140 for the whole trip, which yes isn't bad. But the pay was supposed to do a certain way and he got paid this morning. It was lower then if he went to work. Work training is supposed to be time and a half. It wasnt. No gas money back or anything. 3 big bills were due today, obvs they got paid. Now I'm stressing and fuming bc that "little amount" of money is actually big for us and was going towards buying food for the next week. We already live pay check to paycheck. Most weeks we do just fine but this week I'm over stressed and pissed bc we don't have that extra money. So now I'm going to be making sure our kids have food for the next week (along with hubby for lunches and dinners) on a very small budget. Another week of myself eating very little and sticking with my tea so everyone else can have.
Why do work places have to be this way? When hubs asked about the reimbursement he wasn't given much of an answer besides "I have to approve this by (name)" wtf we don't life on hopes and fucking dreams. I hate life so much. Most days I think about leaving. My kids and husband keep my feet topside. It's so hard to keep going when you're knocked down everyday
thanks for reading, have a blessed day yall

I don't remember the year I was obsessed whit this game, but around 20012-'15 is what I would guess. I played it on y8.com and it was under the cat category, but I know that the character was nothing like a cat. It was a pont and click game. I think there were multiple levels and you could lose, but I don't remember how.
It had a dog, a cat (didn't looked like one) and multiple strange creatures, that now I think were supposed to be mice or rats. They were walking on 2 legs and acted like humans.
The whole game was one 2d drawing of a house whit multiple rooms and a door to the inside on the left side of the house. There was a basement and at least 2 floors. I'll try to draw something similar to it for a reference.
The premise was that the cat is home and you need to make sure that its or his day doesn't get ruined by those strange creatures and the dog. There were multiple things that could get destroyed and you needed to fix them. These couldn't kill the cat, just annoyed him.
Next to the door was a flower where that dog could pee. This is the only place where the dog would come. The rats did everything else: put something in the cat's bed, do something whit the first aid kit, pour oil to the stairs, do something to the microwave so when the cat uses it it would blow up, destroy the TV, destroy instruments and probably more. There could be multiple things at the same time.
You needed to click on the object that was tempered whit and a small window would pop up where I think 2 or 3 thing could happen: the object is good, the rats currently tempering it (not sure if it even existed), the object already ruined (you needed to click the image to fix it). You could notice if the object needed to be fixed or not, without clicking on them. I'm gonna draw these as well.
I don't remember the layout but I'm sure that next to the front door was a tall flower, and that it was on the left of the house. There were a kitchen, a bedroom, bathroom, stairs, somewhere to watch TV (in the basement) and a room full of instruments (in the basement).
I tried to find it for years but at this point I'm half convinced that this was a fever dream. Any help would be appreciated!

Post originally from user JTT on RWI. Very good summary on why users why many of us choose to buy Gens or Reps (quite often discussed here):

"What reps do not offer:

1. High end, high complication watches / independents: You can't yet get (unless there is a whole segment I don't know about) high end complications and independents. If you want a Moser Perpetual Calendar, a Lange Triple split or Zeitwerk, FPJ resonance, a PP double split or minute repeater, MB&F double chrono or Perpetual Evo, Rollie Annual calendar... you just aren't getting them in the rep world. This is not something many are concerned about admittedly, but it is still a gap which won't be closed.
2. Sufficient Design variety: There isn't the range available to a purchaser in the rep world across price points. From low to medium to high end, mens, women's and children's watches. In the gen world there is just far more variety which fits all tastes, size and price-points. This is not the case in the rep world - majority (not all, of course) is Rolex, PP, AP. Which is fine, that satisfies most tastes I think but maybe not for a collector over the long term.
3. Material variety: Money no object you could wear a carbon-fibre 70g Hublot on the wrist one day (please don't - save yourself), followed by a platinum Daytona or white gold FPJ the next. You could wander around London, or NYC and Singapore on a weekend and have solid gold, silver, titanium, carbon, tantalum etc. on the wrist to enjoy. At high and low budgets you can have an enviable range of materials on your wrist.
4. Quality: Ish - if it is a mass produced Rolex etc. frankly a good stainless steel copy of a 116500, 124060, 126610LN etc. will get you 85-90% of the gen quality but that is for a few models and even with those there is always that 10-15% which is off - that extra accuracy, the likely longevity, that extra polish with finishing. That being said frankly AP and PP have been sitting on their hands with their entry-level models and the movements have not evolved for years, and years, and years. Go into an AP boutique and try on a 39 and change the date, ask about WR and note the power reserve and be very very confused.

That PP introduced the 6700G range as the 'modern' base Calatrava with an upgraded movement but it still has only 35-45 hours power reserve is comical when compared to the H.Moser & Cie base 3-hander movement or any Tudor BB ( I know its dress not sports, but its still 3-hander / 3 hander with date comp).

1. Niche, watches with history: Want a watch that has a story, that was on the wrist of a soldier, sailer or candlestick maker for thirty years. Want a watch only issued to military unit because it was your family unit, a dive school that your aunt and uncle attended, a graduating class of jet pilots that your best mate graduated from who since bought it, a certain employer. Nope. Not only do those not see the light of day for the most part - there isn't the financial incentive to reproduce.
   
2. Asset / Investment: There is more potential of upside if you buy right with gens but reps are as liquid when compared to a varied gen collection, just the values more likely lower. The most liquid gens will take approx 5 days from the point you would like to sell to having £ in the bank if you use a scale watch dealer (exceptions apply). Factor in insurance, servicing, buying the models you thought you wanted but don't, locking up cash and it's a more interesting story as a scale watch collector when you work across brands. Parking cash in a small physical asset that isn't going to materially depreciate is also valuable to some which is an often overlooked benefit too.
   

What reps do offer:

1. Accessibility (£ $): No two ways about it, medium-end watches are generally speaking overpriced, high-end almost always are, ultra-high end are crippling. A lot of the 'goal/grail/hype/cool' watches are far out of the range of most financially. Make no bones about it, in this authors opinion people should get a replica rather than put themselves in a precarious financial position and load themselves up with debt or financing. An 18 year old who buys a replica today, could buy a PP grand complication in 15 years having got that first foothold on this forum - buying when they can afford but enjoying the hobby for years before.

Look at JLC and the comical increase in pricing multiple times in the past 18 months, Lange and the 20-30% increase across the board the other month, Tudor (an accessible brand) and the 10% + increases staring to compound and raise eyebrows. Not great.
2. Accessibility (access): Can't get the damn things when you want, usually. Self explanatory - people know the Rolex challenges. Which to be honest, like others have mentioned vary across regions and stores and it's almost (is) unfair how easy these actually are for people connected properly who aren't always genuine collectors. For PP, Lange you will have to snake your purchases through the collection categories rather than go for what you want when you want if you want several (even if you are a noted collector). For MB&F, FPJ - better make your way into the F&F to get what you want, the lists go on. Even when you drop to the more accessible but hype like some from Baltic, Studio UnderDog, Christopher Ward, Tissot you can wait months. I've personally waited longer for some entry-level hype watches than 'in-demand' professionals / sports.

1. Try before you buy: Not too much more to say - try before you buy and I do this a lot. Not sure if you want a Submariner or Submariner Date then try them both delivered to your house in days. Don't like, sell them. Yes you can go into stores but that doesn't always work well for everyone - i) stores don't always have stock and when they do you won't spent much time with these watches ii) many are intimidated in these high end watch stores and are treated badly - 'don't have an appointment, bugger off please', iii) plenty of people aren't located close to watch stores. People getting pied off in stores is something I see so often and I don't like it, everyone has to start somewhere and not all people are as comfortable, have large spends and know the people who work in stores. Go to watch clubs you say... well some of these and the people in them - that's a whole different post.
   
2. Insurance, Servicing, Ancillary costs: These go up or down with scale but it is not nothing. Insurance can be low - often sitting at c.1% of watch value for something like a Sub is good, but this adds up. Independent servicing (not all - some are VERY good in this regard) or complication servicing takes time, £/$ and pain sometimes. Paying for safe deposit boxes, serviced or monitored alarms costs £ too.
   

Pay to play: Even top tier collectors for the v. high end brands will be required to buy watches you don't really want on the journey - or watches you want but too frequently (ironically). It's the price of entry and doesn't matter who you are. Can you get rid yes, but for the v.high end it's a small world and whilst you might get a shot across the bow on the first one you dump v.v. quickly as everyone knows it was a. stepping stone, twice and they will sink your battleship.

1. Loss: Lose a replica. Ok, don't care .. what's for dinner. Lose a gen, oh this is going to be fun - police, insurance, watch shops and registers etc.

6. Security: If we are talking well-known watches like sports PP, sports Rolex etc. then one has less concern in many locations and times with a replica. Obviously you don't want to flash either around in certain locations or at certain times but this is somewhat self explanatory. Also with reps you don't need to make sure you strictly adhering to insurance conditions / expectations ('oh did I put it in the safe' etc.). Side point, with reps your most frequent trip isn't to the bank and WAITING FOREVER every time for the box opening procedures."

TLDR;
- If you're entering this field, eCPPTv2 is not for you. Try eJPT. With the exception of the exam, the course is still free.
- If you have some experience, e.g., you know what HTB is, you regularly practice on the platform, you have some knowledge of web application/network security, but don't have much real-world experience, then go for it. You'll get a grasp of what kind of different areas are generally covered when performing a penetration test in various areas, and it will force you to write an actual report. But it won't, and I emphasise *won't*, make you a professional, highly-skilled hacker. The course is basically an introduction to the real world.
- If you're already working as a pentester for some years, it is tough to recommend. You might expand your general knowledge in areas you don't often encounter, and discover some tips for your cheat-sheets. If you're looking for a challenge to step-up your skills, this is not the way.
​
Non-TLDR;
Hello there! I'd like to summarise my experience with eCPPTv2 course and exam and hopefully provide you with an idea if this certification is worth your time and money.
​
Who
I have been a full-time pentester for about four years. As for the technical side of my day-to-day job, I have experience with web/mobile/infra testing, code reviews, redteam engagements etc. etc. Before that, I was a full-time programmer (developer if you want) for about the same time.
​
Why
I decided for eCPPTv2 for several reasons:
- I needed some certification anyway due to some customer requirements and future legislation.
- From the experience of my colleagues, the materials were decent.
- I went through some of the eJPT materials as they are free, and I liked the labs.
​
Materials & Labs
I only got through some of the materials. I went primary for what I thought was necessary for the exam. Therefore, I skipped the wifi stuff, metasploit, partially powershell, and maybe some other minor areas.
I think that the slides do a decent job at explaining the given topics. Sometimes the amount of information can get pretty overwhelming, though. It sucks that you can't (officially) download the slides. Especially for someone who takes the course as a part of his/hewhatever career and knowledge development, the slides might provide a good reference in the future.
I'm not a fan of video-based materials in general but I watched them anyway. The topics were nicely explained, and one can see how the various tools and techniques work before trying them on your own.
On the flipside...
Materials should be reviewed and updated. You will find a few broken links, tools not available for download anymore, or demos presenting really old tools. Not a big issue in the end, but still, I wouldn't expect something like this in a course you pay over 700 bucks (for a year).
Sometimes I found the order of the modules confusing. Something like this happen several times:
- Topic A is explained.
- Lab is followed. You exercise topic A (and topic B).
- Topic B is explained.
No idea if this is by design, but I don't like it. If you want to do labs on your own and get stuck, you can end up thinking, "What the hell am I missing? I tried everything I just learned". Well...Maybe you didn't try something that wasn't explained yet.
As for the labs...
I liked them anyway. Labs are mostly narrowly focused, with well-written walkthroughs if you get stuck. Don't blindly follow walkthroughs, though. Always think about different approaches, what would you do if X or Y wasn't working, or what tool would you use if tool Z wasn't available.
Labs are the place where you should take notes and make cheatsheets. Full stop. Do it.
If there is something I didn't like, then the fucking VPN connections. Countless times I encountered connection drops, which made me pull my hair when I had to execute some kill-chain for the third, fourth time. Moreover, the target machines got a different IP address on every restart, forcing me to edit all my noted commands and payloads every time.
Also, there are small tests (quizzes?) you can take after completing a set of modules. Fuck them. Really. There is no point in bothering with them at all.
Reporting is discussed very briefly, in my opinion. It gives you an idea of how to structure it, a general idea of its content, and some references. Nothing more, really. I think they should go deeper. The exam requires you to write an executive summary and provide a description, recommendations and details for each finding. I can imagine that people who have never written such a document may struggle with this. Everyone has their own style when writing reports. It needs time, practice, and feedback before you brush it. But maybe they should provide you at least some idea on how to think when writing reports and provide some proper feedback after you submit it at the end of the exam.
Why I have such a problem with this is the fact that the course is named "Penetration Tester *Professional*". As I learned very soon, the report you provide to your customer is the most important part of your work. Your customer won't sit next to you to admire how cool, smart mega-turbo-hacker you are. You are helping your customer to find security issues and provide guidance on how to remediate them. This is basically what you do as a professional penetration tester. I feel like this fact should be emphasised more in the course.
I realise the points above might be just the result of my frustration, but sometimes I couldn't help myself to stop thinking, "Guys, people are fucking paying you for this course. Why can't you fix this and that".
​
Exam - Testing
It took me about six months to go through the materials (please note that not all of them as mentioned). I mostly studied for about two hours in the evenings after work and during the weekends. If you don't have a full-time job and a girlfriend, you can probably go through all of the materials in about half a year. My (not-really) educated guess is that the exam covers about 60-65 % of the materials.
My two cents:
- Don't overthink. The problems you will face when exploiting the targets and gaining root privileges are very CTF-like. Everything is simple and straightforward.
- Enumerate. Make some cheat-sheet for proper enumeration and follow it. As mentioned, the problems on the exam are not that difficult, just take your time to look for stuff.
- In the end, I felt like the exam is all about pivoting. Practice it in the labs. Understand how to route networks and how to forward ports. I used metasploit throughout the exam, and it was sufficient for it.
- Don't stress about buffer overflows. Take your time to understand it, do labs and take notes you can follow. If you do it properly, the actual exploitation will be a matter of copy-paste. I guess I won't spoil anything when I tell you that you don't have to worry about the advanced topic (very briefly talked about in materials) like beating ASLR, SEH-based overflows and others. It's a buffer overflow in its simplest form.
- Luckily, in comparison with labs, I had no issues with VPN connection or stability during the exam.
​
Exam - Reporting
I finished the report in about two days, but I had two major advantages:
- I've already written a dozen of reports before.
- I have a collection of findings I could re-use in the report with minor changes.
In cases when I needed some inspiration, I usually looked at findings in Nessus database (https://www.tenable.com/plugins/search) and expanded on it.
You might find https://github.com/juliocesarfort/public-pentesting-reports repository useful if you need to see how reports are generally structured and written.
Today, we have the privilege of using ChatGPT. Be careful here. Don't blindly copy/paste its output! Always verify its results, get inspired, and put together your own version.
The report was reviewed in about three days. Got a response that I'm missing some details in the description of buffer-overflow exploitation. After submitting the report again, it took another three to four days to review it. A friend of mine was waiting almost a month, so I was pretty lucky.
I spent about 60 hours doing the exam, including reporting. From my point of view, the two weeks you have in total is plenty of time to finish the exam.
​
That's it. Have a nice day.

Hi there!
Here is a 30 year old INFP Male from bangalore, looking for a childfree person to date from Bangalore ONLY! Not a fan of long distance at all.
I am the eldest son of dysfunctional family, trying to let go of that identity slowly. But naturally it has taken its toll on me and my narcisstic parents have driven me absolutely mad and numb that I am in IDGAF mode with them :D. Also along with the innumerable environmental and economic reasons, my fucked up family is one of the reasons I’m childfree.
So I am not where I want to be, self confidence and other things considered. But I guess I am heading in the right direction in small steps, recently changed jobs that I long wanted to, got a bike recently and trying to learn it.
The values that excite me are intelligence and empathy. A typical INFP to whom logical and blunt real world things seem cruel and is guided by emotions and intuition.
Also I have realised the hard way, my attachment style is Anxious. Definitely not a green flag lol but I am working on it. Please be aware of yours esp. If you are avoidant. Don’t want to get into the anxious avoidant dance.
And god no, I don't want to climb no GODDMAN CORPORATE LADDER (ehmm cool down mr. Samuel L Jackson hehe). Looking for someone with whom we can create a safe space for each other to breathe, grow and be nurturing to each other <3.
My love language would be touch . Hugs cuddles and forehead kisses to die for. Sexually speaking , even though I am inexperienced but I’m definitely someone who is kinky and high libido and creative just like all things in life should be lol.
Please read my below disclaimers so that you can filter me better.
https://www.reddit.com/useEarly30M4FChildfree/comments/13qonvy/disclaimers_for_cf_post/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=ioscss&utm_content=2&utm_term=1
I have never been much of an active person or traveled much tbh, but I want to change that slowly going forward. Recently started hitting the gym (which is on and off :( ) to get rid of that pandemic fat. I’m 5’6 in height and weigh 72 kgs and look decent. I’m a non vegetarian and a social drinker, lately on a hiatus on drinking.
A social drinker is fine for me, but smoking is a deal breaker. Even habit of using any other drugs like weed and others also.
My mother tongue is Kannada and It’s been a decade I’m living in Bangalore. But I do have plans of setting abroad preferably Europe in a couple of years. But the chances of all that happening is not that good I feel but you never know!
Also lately I have been rather melancholic, dabbling between some existential crisis and self esteem/self worth issues. I am in the process of working on them. Decided to attend therapy finally this month after years of giving advice to other people and urging them to go to therapy. Pfff typical INFP 😒 Yet to find a decent therapist to keep it regular.
What I am looking for is a woman who is preferably 24-34 years old. Who is childfree, atheist, liberal, independent and empathetic and at least couple of our interests match!
So if things click like which I mentioned above, I have qualms marrying later. We’d be a couple that’d be corporate work rats, travel, watch artsy stuff, ponder why the fuck we are on this earth.
I love doggies, beaches, clouds, mountains, art, some freshly brewed beer, good deep conversations and pretty much about everything under the sun.
Btw I LOVE electronic music! My favourite genres are deep house, progressive house.I used to love going to those gigs often in the pre-pandemic era.
I am also a huge TV and movie buff. My favourite shows are succession, breaking bad, that 70's show, friends, two and half men, bbt, Bojack, Fargo, fleabag, mindhunter, Ozark ( oof that scene of Bateman and Laura linney arguing in front of the therapist was TV gold!)
My favourite movies are pulp fiction, big lebowski ❤️, tarantino movies, all gangsta movies involving de niro and Joe pesci.
Sports: I follow cricket a bit here and there. But yeah right now OBSESSED with Formula1, a hugh checo fan just because of his trajectory and rooting for checo to win the wdc next season. maybe I like some Hamilton and mercedes schadenfreude too lol.
Books: I am not into much into fiction but more into pyschological/self help books. Some of my fav books of the subtle art of not giving a fuck by Mark Manson, six pillars of self esteem by Nathaniel branden, right now reading some books by J Krishnamurti.
-----------------
I am Strictly ONLY looking for a date and from Bangalore too, so kindly do NOT message or leave any comments here on this post, if you are not looking for the same and fit my criteria.
I assure I will be super respectful and let you know if it is not working out and expect you to do the same.:)
Ciao then hmu!:)
!lock

Edit: cat creature's day
I don't remember the year I was obsessed whit this game, but around 20012-'15 is what I would guess. I played it on y8.com and it was under the cat category, but I know that the character was nothing like a cat. It was a pont and click game. I think there were multiple levels and you could lose, but I don't remember how.
It had a dog, a cat (didn't looked like one) and multiple strange creatures, that now I think were supposed to be mice or rats. They were walking on 2 legs and acted like humans.
The whole game was one 2d drawing of a house whit multiple rooms and a door to the inside on the left side of the house. There was a basement and at least 2 floors. I'll try to draw something similar to it for a reference.
The premise was that the cat is home and you need to make sure that its or his day doesn't get ruined by those strange creatures and the dog. There were multiple things that could get destroyed and you needed to fix them. These couldn't kill the cat, just annoyed him.
Next to the door was a flower where that dog could pee. This is the only place where the dog would come. The rats did everything else: put something in the cat's bed, do something whit the first aid kit, pour oil to the stairs, do something to the microwave so when the cat uses it it would blow up, destroy the TV, destroy instruments and probably more. There could be multiple things at the same time.
You needed to click on the object that was tempered whit and a small window would pop up where I think 2 or 3 thing could happen: the object is good, the rats currently tempering it (not sure if it even existed), the object already ruined (you needed to click the image to fix it). You could notice if the object needed to be fixed or not, without clicking on them. I'm gonna draw these as well.
I don't remember the layout but I'm sure that next to the front door was a tall flower, and that it was on the left of the house. There were a kitchen, a bedroom, bathroom, stairs, somewhere to watch TV (in the basement) and a room full of instruments (in the basement).
I tried to find it for years but at this point I'm half convinced that this was a fever dream. Any help would be appreciated!

Thanks to everyone for the well wishes on my previous post the day before surgery. Meant a lot to me! Many of you asked for an update so I shall oblige!
My surgery was scheduled 6/7 at 10am. I got checked in around 8am. It finally hit me that it was really happening when the surgeon came in to greet me before they pulled me in the operating room. I won’t lie I broke down and cried. Everyone was really encouraging. The doctor was impressed by how much weight I lost on my 3 week pre-op diet. They wheeled me in, knocked me out, and I woke up in general recovery.
I can NOT understate the gas pain upon waking up. I had read about it, heard it’s bad, etc. But it was way worse than I had imagined. I have a relatively low-moderate pain tolerance. They got me on IV meds very quickly once I woke up. That pain was no joke. Nurse wheeled me up to my personal recovery room where my wife was waiting. I was so glad to have someone with me. The first 24 hours were rough, and all gas pain for me. They told me walking would help with the gas pain and that’s all I had to hear. I started walking. Was really slow at first but felt good to move around. Was pretty hard for me to sleep since I use a BIPAP machine. I had to sleep laying on my back and when I normally do that I tend to swallow air, so I was paranoid I’d be making the gas pain worse (didn’t end up happening). I slept maybe 1.5 hours. I got up, walked half a mile, slept another 2 hours, got up and walked another half mile. Went back to sleep. The nurses never got on to me about walking because I was pretty self motivated. (Lessons learned, I’m passing gas now at home, and it’s not the distance that you walk, but the FREQUENCY. You do NOT need to walk as far as I did, I think I would’ve passed gas if I got up more regularly and walked a short distance much more often). I vomited twice on day 1. I’m not entirely sure why. I was sipping the Gatorade they provided, was feeling fine, talking with my wife and mother, then suddenly my mouth would fill with spit. From reading stuff on this forum I knew what was coming next. I grabbed the trash can and threw up. Nothing really came out since I was only drinking small amounts of Gatorade, so mostly dry heaving. Happened twice as I mentioned, just out of nowhere. Never threw up again.
The next day I woke up mega sore from all the walking. The pain on day 2 for me was less gas pain, more soreness both in my stomach area and in my legs. Day 2 I focused on liquids. Doctor came and visited in the morning, decided I could be discharged that evening around 6pm. I focused on drinking because I didn’t want to be readmitted later for dehydration. 1oz every 15 minutes. All day. Walked occasionally, took some much needed naps. Had a small fart which everyone cheered about hahaha. Got discharged.
Day 3 has been much easier. Being at home is much easier. I slept for about 6 hours broken up in 2 hour segments. I woke up, drank fluids, walked around our apartment, went back to sleep. Walking with this frequency has me burping occasionally so the gas pains are subsiding. Still very sore but overall things feel manageable. Haven’t had anything but Gatorade zero, so I’m going to introduce some protein shakes today. Gonna call my doctor because the pain meds are supposed to cause constipation, so going to ask if I should start colace or milk of magnesia now in anticipation. But everything’s good!! It gets better. First 24-48 hours are rough, but I promise it gets better. Today feels like I’m on my way.
I’ll give another update 1-2 weeks post op if anyone’s interested. Let me know!

I just read an article about chronic disease or illness fakers. I am thoroughly disgusted that even more people are more ignorant than I thought possible beyond my immediate family.
Right before the age of 40 I passed out waiting for a table at a nice restaurant, slowly drinking a beer. Luckily I had not been a heavy, medium, or even light drinker for almost 10 years. All I really had physically wrong with me at that time was testosterone therapy, come shoulder surgeries, and chronic,sometimes horrible pain. Oh, I was also told I had a great, really great bronze California tan.
After that incident right before age 40 I had every test I could have done to explain what happened. Witnesses said, im 6'3 195+ lbs, I just turned white, became instantly soaking wet, and fell straight backwards like a 2x4.
After all the tests were completed I discovered my Iron(its really called ferratin) was at a level of 3,900 (normal safe levels are 50 to 200 roughly. I was given a genetic test for hemachromatosis, which is pretty common, and not a super big deal when treated early. In fact, anyone with hemachromatosis cam firmly state that we people,all people, black, while, whatever are related. Black people have a genetic disease called sickle cell disease. If not treated and allowed to run rampart sickle cell turns into hemachromatosis. Nuff said.
The main treatment for hemachromatosis is bloodletting, the amount of blood you need to get out of your body and how much at a time and how often is usually dictated by the level of your ferritin in your blood at time of diagnosis. Most people, fortunately, get detected and treated by 700 to 1500 level of Ferratin. The body is basically killing itself, "rusting away" to say at levels if 1,000 plus of ferritin.
Now five leads later, testosterone implants every 3 months or so, bloodletting (phlebotomy) treatment 4 times a year now ( I started giving over 550 grams of blood 2 times a week for 4 months, and then once a week 4 or 5 months, and so on and on. I have had a pretty extensive cervical neck surgery, cages, holes drilled in arthritic areas and nerve openings opened up, both hips totally replaced, a knee replacement on left knee coming up soon, always a pain in my ass,, literally,, lol. There's other things, I have to get liver biopsies every year, heart tests performed every year, no alcohol, low Vtamin C diet, no more liver and onions, and reduced use of cast iron and other high iron cooking and eating utensils.
Thing is,, if you see me just see me, you'll see a big, strong, agile, balanced man. But what you dont see is how hard it is for me to just get up and drink a cup of coffee some mornings, or how bad both legs ache, hurt, throb, and sometimes especially feel totally exhausted 2 hours after I wake up. Or a serious neck, nerve issue that I just keep massaging and turning my head.
I don't take opiates, except after surgeries, I can't take much Tylenol or ibuprofen and related. Mostly ice pack/machine, heat pads, hot hot bath soaks, stretching (carefully), keeping moving, and pushing myself everyday or at least 6 days a week harder than the day before.
I have half siblings, 17+ years older than me, with bone spurs, maybe knee replacement, obesity related issues, lack of movement/ exercise issues, and on and on.
I'd happily trade places with them, but keep my age, and very few people I imagine get what I'm about to say next . I decided after the first 6 months of diagnosis I was going to "break and fall apart before I rusted and rotted away".
Do you get that? Understand ? I am happy, no I get exited and thrilled inside when I see people with obvious issues, obesity, laziness, bad diet, drinking, etc struggle, not do, or unwilling to do things they should do, much less want to do to make this life more,, make this life better for themselves. I say F' u all those ignorant dumb lazy scared people that say things, think things, act differently when they interact with you, not knowing you closely and really knowing you, when they see this person that looks, moves, and does lots of physical things better than they can,, and they think your faking or putting on or playing poor pity party me,,, no screw you guys,, try, literally walking 10,000 or more steps in my shoes each day and more, yet sometimes not able to even crawl or move for 2 or 3 hours after 4 or 5 or less some days just living life.
Anyone else have similar stories ? Or experiences? I still can't get over the fact that had a been a normal,, or whatever you call a person who drinks a six pack a week, alcoholic drinker I would definitely for sure have had cirrhosis or liver cancer by now for sure and probably be dead. Anyway,, let me know thanks.
P