Prioritizing Farm Layout

2021.10.18 19:46 LeftyGuns Prioritizing Farm Layout

I am having a hard time finding good YouTube videos or even content on here about how my fake layout should be. I have seen sole gorgeous decorative farms. However I want to maximize my farm for my professions, with that decorative appeal coming later. I have the Artisan profession and I am trying to make the top fish ponds also having a place in my farm. I also want a healthy amount of crop space. Is there also a way to branch out passed my farm? I am operating on Nintendo switch (and it into mods if that is even a thing on Switch).
My questions are:

I guess you get the idea. Thank you for all the input!
submitted by LeftyGuns to StardewValley [link] [comments]

2021.10.18 19:46 snickerssnacks Would potential DIY items be worth posting?

Just wondering if anyone has had any luck with selling items that could be a potential DIY project for someone.
I have this organization tray that I'm mostly considering just donating because the lining on the inside is starting to really peel off, though the outside is in perfect condition. But I also wonder if it someone may bundle it for cheap or something and redo it/paint it themselves.
I'm leaning towards no already, but was just curious if anyones had luck selling these type of things! Such as various mix-match earrings and other items someone may be able to use or upcycle.
submitted by snickerssnacks to poshmark [link] [comments]

2021.10.18 19:46 TheCrookedBoy There's a labyrinth in the middle of the world.

What would you do for $2000? Would you eat a jar of spiders? Walk naked through Times Square? Shave your eyebrows?
Would you be buried in a coffin in America's "most haunted" graveyard?
That was exactly what they were offering -- $2000 for a night spent six feet under.
It wasn't in the name of scientific exploration, incase you were wondering -- it was for one of those Ghost Hunting shows, the ones where the only ghosts they find are, well, none, because ghosts don't fucking exist.
Anyway, they wanted independent, unaffiliated "civilians" to prove the Westmont Cemetery was a place of supernatural interest.
How, you ask?
By burying three people alive in different parts of the cemetery for one night. We would have oxygen tubes, water, and not a whole lot else.
I guess they figured, by burying us, we might see ghoulish apparitions. Who knows. Who cares. I didn't -- so I volunteered.
Why the hell not?
When I hit the cemetery at nightfall, the producers had me sign away my life -- it was one of those liability wavers indoor trampoline places make you John Hancock incase your kid lands funny and snaps their neck.
That was fine by me. I would've signed a letter of endorsement to my public official saying I believed afterbirth smoothies should be mandated for man, woman, and child if it meant I got any money at all.
Was I nervous? Well, no -- yes, but not really.
It was all rather goth. The kind of shit sixteen year old me -- drenched in black clothes, smoking cloves, and listening to Skinny Puppy -- would've relished.
The cemetery was creepy enough. Westmont -- the sprawl of dead and buried that made our town famous. It was totally overgrown, a patchwork of gravestones whose epitaphs had been scrubbed away by time; of thick vines snarling up the rusted wrought-iron gates; of (approximately) six-hundred gallons of fog rolling in off the woods.
It certainly looked haunted, but so did plenty of places. The small army of cameramen, lighting apparatuses, and PAs made it a little less creepy -- as did the host of the show (a semi-celebrity with a penchant for being obstreperous), whose goofy, over-the-top enthusiasm would've made the Overlook Hotel seem like a Motel Six.
So all in all it tasted like a pretty good deal to me.
...Until I saw the coffin.
I'm not sure what I had been expecting -- it was a coffin, after all. I guess I'd just been hoping for something a smidge bigger?
It was narrow, claustrophobic, fitted with night-vision cameras and microphones like strange plastic warts on its wooden skin.
I shivered, suddenly unnerved at the thought of being buried among the rotting dead. It would only be overnight...but Christ, what was I thinking?
"You ready?" A producer asked me.
Before I could lose my nerve, I nodded yes.
I reclined in the coffin (which they had kindly padded for comfort) and watched the world disappear as the lid was lowered, locked, before a crane dropped me down into the earth.
My breath, cold and ragged, quickened as I heard the thunderous, clumpy buffeting of earth being unloaded atop my narrow prison.
A while later the noise stopped...
And I was officially buried among the forgotten souls of Westmont.
There had been a voice. There had definitely been a voice.
Okay, Lindsay, cool off -- you're hearing things, that's all.
I had been buried for...who knows how long. A while. A long, dark while. It had been silent...until it hadn't.
There had been a whisper -- I was certain of it -- a low, muted syllable laced into the silence.
I tried to listen through the gallop of my heart. Couldn't hear shit.
I swallowed dryly, squinted in the gloom. My eyes had adjusted and I found I could decipher the coffin walls and-
-There was a face pressed up against mine, ghostly pale in the murky gloom -- it was made of dead, wrinkled skin torn back over a narrow, wolf-like skull, the flesh stretched smoothly over its eye sockets. Its thin, cracked lips drew back into a sneer, revealing teeth that were jagged and rotten, like broken toenails.
"LEAVE!" it howled in a sharp, grating voice.
I screamed, jumped, banged my head on the lip of the coffin, and fell back down with a startled cry.
I fumbled out my cellphone (which I had mercifully snuck in), saw I had no reception, and thumbed the flashlight. My hand was trembling as the narrow coffin was doused in cold, white light. I saw...nothing. I was alone.
My mind was white with fear. I couldn't even begin to...I just needed to get out of here. Fuck the $2000.
I grabbed the walkie-talkie I'd been given (the one the producers told me not to use unless it was an emergency) and keyed the button.
The walkie squawked static. It was a dead wave. Lifeless. There was no one on the upside listening for me.
Shit shit shit-
-There was a sound -- a low hissing tucked into the gale of my frightened breath. I swallowed. My throat was dry -- sandpaper. Was this a joke? Was it all part of the show?
"Not funny guys," I spat at the camera. It did not reply. "Seriously, I want to-"
The hissing grew, grew -- it seemed to be coming from-
-A river of ants poured out of the clear oxygen tube stamped through the ceiling -- hundreds, thousands of them flooded the coffin in a thick, disgusting stream. They were huge -- each like a thumbtack -- their bodies warm and dreadful.
They tunneled through my hair, up my nose, down my ears-
I screamed and did the only thing I could:
I kicked.
My feet impacted the narrow end of the coffin with a dry crack and the wood flew away -- like I'd just battering-rammed a locked door.
I writhed, pushed, wormed my body toward the dark opening that now stood at my feet.
I felt my legs go through the portal, finding not compacted earth...but empty air -- some kind of cavity beneath the cemetery.
I fell forward and found myself in-
Where the fuck was I?
It didn't matter; I could still feel Them crawling through my cracks and crevasses. With a gag of revulsion I shook my limbs, hair, trying to dispatch myself of the ants drenching me like a squirming suit. With a shudder, I leveled my light and looked around.
So many things looked back. I started to scream, stopped, and adopted a puzzled expression as I came to realize the things looking back were all long dead.
I was in a small chamber wrapped in human skills -- ones still ripe with rotting flesh. The low, earthy ceiling pressed down. Roots snarled out like tentacles.
I swung my light around and caught a flash of metal.
There was an elevator in the middle of the catacombs.
This must be part of the show. A prank. Something.
It was a service elevator -- one of those old ones made of latticed metal bars with an up/down lever.
Through the back wall, I saw a vague, non-darkness that contrasted the deep black of the chamber.
"Jesus..." I muttered, heart racing, realizing this was all too much to be apart of any cheesy television program.
I noticed I was still holding the walkie talkie, and absently stuffed it into my pocket.
I gripped the elevator door and pulled. At first it wouldn't go, then it gave with a sudden grinding squeal -- the sound of metal fighting metal.
I stepped inside and peered through the back wall.
I was high up -- higher than I possibly could've been -- above some kind of biblical valley-spread. One doused in moonless moonlight...
...And completely filled out by a labyrinth. Massive stone walls etched lines, curves, and dead-ends as far as the eye could see.
What the fuck? I had time to think, before the elevator dropped me like a stone.
I was instantly weightless -- an astronaut about as far from space as one could get. There was a long, interminable blur of utter nausea where the elevator fell and I fell with it, screaming -- yes, screaming.
Then, just as suddenly as it started, it came to a crashing stop with the Bang! of a cannon going off.
The floor drove through me center-mass, drilling out all the air, leaving me breathless -- drowning on dry land. I staggered to my knees and stuffed oxygen down my throat, only to have it refused by my brutalized lungs. I gagged. Suffocating. My chest throbbing like someone was pounding it with a meat tenderizer.
After a moment of raw panic, I was able to take meager sips of the foul, musty air that piped in from...
The labyrinth.
I could see the entrance just ahead, waiting for me like a mouth. A hungry, gaping mouth.
Rotten fog drifted over it. Distant cries echoed and bounced.
What the hell is going on?
I sat like that for a while, ears ringing, chest throbbing, and breathed.
I had nowhere to go but in.
I pried open the elevator doors and wandered out, my footfalls muffled by the mossy ground.
"Hello?" I called, hating the way my voice decayed into nothing.
I swallowed the lump in my throat and looked up. The night sky looked back -- one devoid of stars and moon, but still glowing with faint, celestial light.
Behind me, a massive canyon wall stretched up to the heavens, whittling off into a fine point that didn't seem to end. The tallest rock face in existence. Splitting it in two -- like a metal scar -- was the elevator shaft that had carried me down.
But the drop hadn't been more than a split was that possible?
That was the least of my concerns -- nothing was broken, after all...
And besides...where was I?
I stepped up to the labyrinth's entrance and looked both ways.
A tall, fat wall of crumbling stones -- their cracks widened by roots, weeds, creepers -- stretched off both ways, winding down into nothing. The labyrinth ran like time -- endless, perpetual.
I pulled a shaky lungful of air -- air that tasted ripe with corruption -- and did the only thing I could think to do:
I stepped into the maze.
I heard the rattle of stones, felt the air shift around me, and glanced back to see...
...Nothing but wall. The entrance had sealed off -- sealed me in.
This was insane. A psycho fever-dream. I was still in the coffin. I was still in-
-But I wasn't. I was in the maze, the one which filled out a valley so large it didn't end.
Maybe I'm dead, I thought. Maybe their oxygen tube malfunctioned and piped the coffin full of carbon monoxide instead of clean air.
It was an oddly comforting idea...because a reality where things like this exist isn't a reality at all -- it's a crazy, impossible lie.
I pulled a deep breath and tried to get myself under control.
Okay, you can do this...
Holding out my phone like a Crucifix in a warding-off gesture, I started forward.
I got no more than five feet before a wall of fog washed everything away. It swallowed me, devouring my world in pale mist. My flashlight was useless. Utterly-
-A face appeared in the fog, inches from mine -- a woman's face, naked and gray without hair of any kind. Her eyes, milky and blind, reflected my own drawn expression as I leapt back with a scream.
"No!" she hissed. "Quiet! Hush fool, hush before it hears you!"
Before I could react, her hands -- which felt like nothing but bones beneath damp, leathery skin -- found mine and dragged me along. I saw she wore tattered rags over her lanky, malnourished form.
"What are you-" I started. "Silence," she muttered, "silence is the key. It hears you. Smells you, yes, but its ears - they hear all."
I swallowed dryly, shuffling along through the fog as stone walls shifted by.
She pulled me down a long corridor, then another and another, before dragging me into a circular clearing -- a little cul-de-sac in the belly of the labyrinth.
At first I didn't realize what I was seeing. Pitch-torches threw guttering light over skinned ribcages, devoured limbs, and dead human-things strung up by the flesh of their ankles.
I saw a dozen pale-people tearing flesh from bone with their teeth. They wore bibs of blood beneath eyes that were rabid, feral, and completely blind.
It slugged me through the stomach like a closed fist:
These were cannibals.
Something hard and blunt impacted my skull with a sickening crack! and I collapsed into darkness.
I awoke to screaming -- high, strangled screaming.
My head was pounding slow and rhythmically, like someone was going at it with a big wooden mallet. I reached up. My fingers came away red.
"What-" I started, before the world around me took shape and I saw the carnage.
The pale-people were dead -- brutally slaughtered, torn apart. Errant limbs decorated the clearing here and there. Viscous black blood crawled across the ground.
I saw a small knot of the living -- the woman who had tricked me among them -- cowering away from...from what?
A moving shadow, one which flickered and writhed like it was cast by flame. It acted like a stuttering TV -- lurching, pausing, then rambling onward as it tore through the remaining cannibals like a blender through meat.
Blood splashed. Limbs flew, trailing gore like gruesome streamers. The pale woman's severed head hit the stone wall with a hollow knock, bounced, rolled, and came to rest at my feet -- her pale eyes blinking once before going still.
All at once I was alive. I felt everything. The dull, throbbing ache tucked into the back of my mind. The high, tingling pain singing up from my knees -- as though someone had buried a live wire in my flesh.
I pushed to my feet, found unsteady footing, took a lurching, dizzying stride -- before kicking off into a crazed life-run that carried me out of the clearing now drenched in hot blood.
I didn't scream. I didn't cry out. I kept silent, the only sound being my feet pumping beneath me, my breath whipsawing through my lungs, my heart pounding at my ribcage.
I ran and ran and never once looked back.
I recognized the girl who was chained to the rock.
I had run until I could run no more -- until I could only lope along in a tired jog. My phone had died long ago, forcing me to navigate by the cold, watery light which splashed down from the heavens.
Time was a flat circle. There were no hours, days, months -- merely a strange, dreamy shuffle forward punctuated only by distant screams, cries, and ghastly wails.
And then I found her.
The girl from the cemetery -- another volunteer who had signed up to be buried. She was older now, hair stringy and laced with gray, face bracketed by deep wrinkles -- a girl who had been no older than 22 when she walked into Westmont...
...And now she was-
-She came to life with a choked wheeze. Her eyes, frightened and bleary, swept through me like I wasn't there. They returned a moment later, settling on mine.
"You," she said, her voice like a crack in glass from which more cracks spread. "I... know you. It's been... long."
She was fettered to a massive boulder at a dead end, her wrists and ankles locked in rusted shackles that splayed her limbs in a human X.
On the earthy ground beneath her was a rusty cleaver. Written on the blade in dried blood were two words:
Inside...what? But I knew -- deep down, I knew. I looked at her, a horrible pang of realization clipping through my chest.
The map to escape was inside... of her.
I pulled a deep, trembling breath and picked up the cleaver.
"No," she pleaded, her cheeks flushing with fear, "don't - please."
I raised it. It felt good in my hands, it felt right. I saw the blade -- which I thought to have been painted in rust -- was actually crusted in gore. Scraps of tissue clung to curdled blood. Little twists of hair hung off.
I raised it as she sobbed, as her chest rose and fell, as she screamed at me not to -- I raised it and I swung with all my might.
The cleaver impacted her wrist shackle with a sharp clang! The metal split apart in a flash of sparks, releasing her right arm.
I went to work on the others, and when she finally she fell forward -- free at last -- the cleaver's blade was broken in two.
"Thank you," she was crying as she dragged herself to her feet. "Thank you for-" she stopped suddenly, her face twisting up like she'd gotten a bad oyster.
She looked at me, eyes distant, skin pale, and said matter-of-factly: "I don't feel so-"
-Then she coughed and a spray of hot blood flew from her mouth. It misted my cheeks, eyes, mouth. I jerked back with a cry of disgust and watched with mounting horror as her back snapped into a sharp arch, as her face knotted up in raw agony, as her throat began working spastically. She looked like she was in the throes of having a demon exorcised.
With a strangled cry she threw her head back and vomited a geyser of blood. Then she collapsed -- crumpled down like a puppet with cut strings, falling into a loose, lifeless pile of limbs.
I stood there and watched red foam bubble from her lips. I tried to speak but my voice would't come.
"Are you...okay?" I whispered. It was a ridiculous question -- she was dead as a doornail -- but it was all I could manage.
As expected, she did not reply.
I stared at her for a while -- eyes rolled back, face frozen in a bloody death-rictus -- as I tried to find the nerve to grip the cleaver.
I couldn't bear the thought of...but at the same time I had to.
Finally, I wetted my lips, gripped the cleaver, and -- moving like a woman in a dream -- got to work.
I crouched over her and dug the rusty shards into her pale belly. The flash tore apart with a wet riiip. Red stuff dribbled out. I pulled back the skin like a medieval surgeon and saw her insides were nothing but a vaporized soup.
Before I could lose my nerve, I plunged my hands in. My fingers fell through warm goo, finding nothing but deconstructed anatomy.
I rooted around in the hot stew, paused to vomit, resumed, and dug like that (the world's most gruesome prospector) until my hands found something hard and square.
I withdrew it, the taste of bile still hot in my mouth, and found myself holding a stone tablet -- one about the size of a paperback book.
It dripped sheets of blood, gore. I wiped it clean and held it up.
Slowly, before my eyes, lines resolved on its rough skin -- forming the corridor in which I stood.
It was a map.
There was a forest in the middle of the labyrinth.
I had followed the stone tablet, wandering in a hazy, dreamlike state -- shuffling along blindly, my eyes never leaving the blood-drenched lifeline.
It had eventually led me here. To the heart of it all -- a wide, sprawling wood tucked into the center of the maze.
I looked at the tablet. It showed an intricate tattoo of lines, swirls, false-hallways, and a wide circle at the center of it all. I head reached the end of the labyrinth.
And it was...a forest. A biblical, awful forest.
I let the tablet fall to the ground, and started off through the trees. I didn't care where they led me...I had already come to terms with the fact that this -- whatever this was -- would be my tomb.
So I walked. It was all I could do. One step after the next, after the next, after the next.
The woods were densely packed, tied together by tangles of brush and the fog which flowed out of the shadows that wrapped the corners of my vision.
I heard things -- throaty mutters, faint whispers -- and felt my neck crawl. There were eyes watching me. I hurried my pace, jumping each time I snapped a dead branch or crunched through a bundle of rotting leaves.
I stopped and looked around. How long had I been walking? Ten minutes? Twenty? An hour?
The forest pulled away from me, falling off into an inky ocean of shadow. I desperately wished for a flashlight or-
-There was a sudden roar, the deep bellow of some unholy beast -- it seemed to shake the woods, to crack them in half. I felt my knees buckle and heard-
-Hooves. Thundering through the darkness. Getting closer, louder, the tremendous tattoo of something big, something dreadful, something-
-I was blown off my feet as a freight-train ran through me center-mass. The air was driven out of me, sledge-hammered from my lungs with a hot woosh!
Then I was flying. Weightless. The world somersaulted and I saw a flash of brown fur, curved horns, two burning red eyes -- eyes without intelligence of any kind.
And then the ground flew into me and I saw no more.
I was being dragged and everything hurt. Something was broken -- something was badly broken.
The woods watched me with indifference, watched as the ten-foot beast -- the one wrought in muscle and fur, its cloven hooves pounding forward -- pulled me off toward its lair.
The Minotaur's lair.
I could see it just ahead -- a wide, gaping cave set into the forest floor. A mouth. A huge, hungry mouth decorated in carcasses. The smell of rot, of things long dead slapped me in the face -- it was a thick wall of reek that made my stomach roil.
It wasn't the creature or the thought of impending death that booted me into motion. It was that smell -- that awful, warm smell. It tunneled into my lungs -- it made me ache.
I threw my body back and kicked for all I was worth. A burst of pain tore up my thighs as my feet impacted the thing with a fleshy crack. It grunted its surprise and momentarily lost its grip on me -- my feet fell, hit hard ground, and sang with a sudden burst of agony.
I cried and shoved back, soldiering through the pain -- the white-hot pain that filled my chest like molten lava.
The Minotaur turned, roared, the woods shaking with each footfall. Thick sprays of steam hissed from its nostrils as it slowly advanced. Its eyes -- red and dumb and full of hunger -- regarded me with cruel amusement.
I felt around for something, anything -- a rock, a stick, a goddamn AK-47. I came up empty as it stomped closer, closer-
-Then I felt plastic, cold and hard, filling out one pocket. I tore out a bulky rectangle of black technology and looked at it for a moment, uncertain of what I was holding.
I realized with a sudden jolt that it was the walkie-talkie.
Great! Praise be! A useless hunk of plastic to defeat a mythical fucking beast-
-My finger spasmed on the trigger and the walkie issued a high, irritated squawk -- the sound of a parrot discovering a dead body.
The Minotaur reared back with a deep bellow -- a distress cry from the lungs of an ancient something.
It was like a dog with a dog whistle, I realized, shoving the walkie at the beast which fell back, thrashing its head in discomfort as a high, tinny shriek issued from the device's speaker.
The minotaur fumbled. Blood ran from its eyes, from its bovine ears, as it fell back, crumpling in on itself like tissue under flame -- it was disintegrating before my eyes.
Then suddenly the whole world was -- evaporating like fog in the sun. The forest and the labyrinth crashed toward me. The heavens fell like an elevator with a broken cable.
I screamed as the whole world folded in on itself, as everything blipped toward me with the speed of light.
And just as I was to be crushed, atomized, disintegrated by the great vacuum of the end, the walls of the coffin which I'd long forgotten crashed into place and I was back where I was supposed to be.
I heard voices, commotion, the sound of scraping.
The coffin lid flew away and warm, blinding sunlight hammered in.
The crew of the ghost hunting show stood above me.
I looked at their smiles and started to scream.
Turns out the young woman -- the one I'd seen in the labyrinth -- had suffered an acute aneurysm while she was underground. She's in a coma as we speak.
I think about it a lot -- the labyrinth buried in my mind, the one I'm not sure exists.
Had I dosed off? Maybe. Maybe I dreamt it all. Maybe I dreamt the feeling of blood -- warm and greasy -- on my hands as I dug through her insides for the map made of stone.
Maybe I dreamt the minotaur.
I don't know.
I don't know much of anything anymore.
But I do know one thing. I feel it with every fiber of my being.
I know, without a doubt, that Westmont Cemetery is haunted.
That I fucking know.
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2021.10.18 19:46 johnsontim5757 23 y/o single m north of Pittsburgh here lookin for some fun ... tryin to eat n fuck f ... hmu snap is @timmyjohnson57 and kik is Timjohnson3322 hmu y’all 😝πŸ’ͺ🏼

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2021.10.18 19:46 iamtonyyes r/desperatebosses, a place to share screenshots of bosses being desperate for employees

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2021.10.18 19:46 MystiveDev Name One Popular Thing in Games You Don't Like. Let's do it!

Let's Play Indiedevs! 😎 Name one thing in Game Development or Games/Gaming in general that is popular and you absolutely do not like? 😱
I'll start πŸ€”: πŸ’― I absolutely Do Not like MOBAs. In fact, I've played only one match of DOTA and one match of LOL before quitting altogether to find out this genre's simply not for me.
Let me hear it! πŸ‘‡
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2021.10.18 19:46 HonkChonker 20 [M4F] Oregon/Online - Looking for a friend that might become something more.

Hello, I'm Jack. I am a college student from Oregon. I am a huge nerd, and I play games a lot. I also read a lot and play D&D. As I said, huge nerd. There are a bunch of other things I could mention, and I could explain more about those other interests, but I'm kind of tired right now so I will tell you if you ask. For those who care, I am white, 6'3", I have curly brown hair, green eyes, and I am a bit on the chubbier side. Also, my preferred method of communication is discord voice chats.
As for what I am hoping to find, I would like to meet someone who shares my interests, and might one day be willing to start a relationship. As long as you have some of the interests I mentioned, we will get along great. I don't care about appearance in the slightest, but do try to to be younger than 25. I am not looking for anyone older than that. Finally, I get a bunch of spam every time I post, so somewhere in your first message or chat to me tell me your favorite color. I hope you have a wonderful day.
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