#Optimization Toolbox

[modmad]

I need you all to appreciate that, due to a year of this shit, Engineer now has expertise in perception AND a level in rogue and yes I think this was worth it

an animation based on old discussion regarding engineer asking for volunteers to help him with his reflective magic  

The engineer is @modmad‘s and larry is @yunisverse​‘s

[fairmaiden8]

Inside Google's SEO Toolbox: The Essential Tools You Need to Know About

Welcome to the world of SEO tools! Search Engine Optimization (SEO) is a crucial aspect of digital marketing that helps businesses improve their online visibility, attract more traffic and generate leads. In this blog post, we will explore some of the essential SEO tools you need to know about to boost your website’s performance on search engines like Google. Introduction to SEO Tools: Before…

[chadobi]

I promise guys , I’ll get to your requests soon! But for now, I hope you’ll enjoy this one💜

“Under a Blanket of Code”

Bayverse!Donatello x Reader

The power had flickered out about an hour ago.

Mikey screamed something about the pizza oven dying and Raph immediately took it as a sign of the apocalypse. Leo was trying to organize a response plan, but Donnie had already disappeared into the darker parts of the lair—heading toward his lab like a man on a mission.

You didn’t even ask. You just followed him.

It was quiet in his workspace. He had a few emergency lights wired up, casting everything in deep purple and gold. Small LEDs blinked from different shelves, some flickering faintly like fireflies. In the middle of it all, Donnie was crouched beside a stack of servers, furiously typing on a portable rig.

You leaned in the doorway, watching him. He muttered something about “backup fuses” and “secondary distribution lines,” and then paused.

“I know you’re there,” he said without looking. “And I’m not mad. Just… mildly panicked.”

You smiled. “I brought tea.”

That made him glance up. His glasses caught a soft glint of blue from a nearby monitor, and he blinked, surprised. “Oh. Uh. Thank you.” He took the thermos from you awkwardly, hands still faintly buzzing with static.

“Want some company?” you asked gently. “I figured you might need backup.”

Donnie hesitated for a second too long. Then he nodded. “Actually… yeah. That would be nice.”

He gestured to a low platform on the floor surrounded by wires, toolboxes, and glowing screens. You kicked off your shoes and stepped carefully between cables. A fuzzy blanket was already half-draped over the space, clearly something Mikey had tossed aside days ago.

You plopped down, crossing your legs. “So what’s the damage?”

“Main power grid’s fried,” Donnie murmured, sitting beside you. “Generator’s holding up, but I’m going to need to do a manual reroute.” He adjusted his glasses with a tired sigh. “In the meantime, I figured… might as well make the place livable.”

He grabbed a small remote and tapped a button. A string of soft purple lights lit up overhead—cheap LED strips, flickering slightly, but warm in their own way.

“Donnie,” you said, raising an eyebrow. “Did you build yourself a tech blanket fort?”

He looked flustered. “No. I mean—not intentionally. I was optimizing work conditions, and the blanket just… enhances acoustic absorption and comfort for long-term programming sessions.”

“So,” you grinned, “a blanket fort.”

He huffed. “Fine. Yes. A highly advanced blanket fort.”

You giggled and tucked the edge of the blanket around your shoulders. “I love it.”

He blinked. “You do?”

“Of course. It’s kind of perfect.” You leaned back slightly. “It’s warm, quiet, glowy… and it smells like solder and coffee. Very ‘you.’”

Donnie was silent for a beat. Then, he mumbled, “I wasn’t sure you’d like it down here.”

You turned to him. “Why wouldn’t I?”

He shifted awkwardly, fingers fidgeting with a loose wire. “Most people… wouldn’t exactly enjoy sitting in a dark lab full of failing circuits and overheating processors.”

“I’m not most people,” you said softly.

Donnie didn’t respond at first. He looked down at the blanket, at the way it pooled around the two of you, and then carefully set aside the laptop.

“You know,” he started, voice lower now, “sometimes I forget there’s a world outside this lab. Not in a dramatic way, just… I get stuck in my head. The math, the logic, the endless systems I can’t control—sometimes that’s all I focus on.”

You were quiet, letting him talk.

“And then you show up,” he continued. “With tea. And sarcasm. And blankets.” His gaze lifted to meet yours. “And suddenly the world feels… a little quieter. Like the code finally compiled.”

You smiled, heart thudding gently in your chest. “Is that your way of saying you like having me here?”

“Yes,” he said immediately. Then cleared his throat. “I mean—logically speaking, your presence has a statistically significant impact on my overall mood and cognitive focus.”

“Donnie,” you said, nudging his arm with your elbow, “just say you like me.”

He went red. Deep red. The color crept all the way to his bandana. “I—okay—fine. I like you. A lot.”

You laughed and leaned your head against his shoulder. He froze for a second, then slowly, slowly relaxed under the pressure.

“I like you too,” you whispered.

Donnie didn’t say anything, but you felt it—the soft exhale, the way his hand curled just slightly closer to yours under the blanket. He didn’t need grand declarations. Not tonight.

You sat together in the tech-fort, surrounded by quiet buzzes and blinking lights, with the world outside temporarily short-circuited.

And honestly?

You wouldn’t have it any other way.

[felidae-sims]

Resources for Creating: My Go-To things.

Update: I’ll be updating the list on this page from now on, since Tumblr can’t handle so many hyper-links in one post, on Dreamwidth - right here, so I won't have to update it multiple times. Please note: I keep updating this list, and updates aren't showing up on reblogs. Please check the original post for the most up to date list.

Sooo this is going to be a long comprehensive list. I got back to this game after a long time and with a different computer, with a dedicated graphics card, hurray! It made me want to return to making things, so while gathering back all the necessary stuff, I've complied this list. It might be is updated as I go along, but these are the main things I use. Maby one day i'll even finish something. So here are my go-to resources & tutorials; I'm posting it here for safekeeping, and hopefully others will find it helpful. Everything that's listed is here free. So many wonderful things for free under the cut.

Programs – General:

Creating: Blender. Blender Addons: 3D Print Toolbox – comes with blender, enable it from within the program. Originally for 3d printing. Good for fixing flipped normals, and some quick general repairs. Source Tools And source tools wiki – for exporting as SMD!!!! (SimPe: to enable bump maps for the mesh on import). GMDC Addon for Blender 4.0+ by Nopke.

GIMP. GIMP Addons: G'MIC-Qt. Resynthesizer. Nvidia dds?. Doesn’t it come with Gimp?

Other: Nvidia Texture Tools Exporter (iirc it works with all graphic cards that are compatible, doesn’t require Nvidia). For making Normal / Bump / Cube Maps. For high quality compression.

NormalMaps - Online, For making all types of maps, has good setting menus. A very cool tool.

Converting: Umodel, for Unreal Engine (Static meshes: export as gtlf.2. Animated meshes: export as psk. Requires Add-on). AssetStudio, for Unity. AC Viewer, self implied (+ USD Addon for blender). QuickBMS* and support forum, for basically everything else. (don't forget the required scrips, down the same page). *I haven’t tested it fully yet, but it was recommended here. A tutorial for it is listed further down. Works like a charm.

UV Mapping: UV Mapper, Classic (free) and the most recent Demo (for visualization).

Programs – Sims:

Never Mind the Bollox, Here's Osab and MAGIkarp to the rescue!

Latest version of SimPe, works with a non-default installation path. Chris Hatch's updates.

Home Crafter installation, Post by Huge Lunatic at Sims2Artists.

Repository Wizard, by Pick'N'Mix Mods. A game changer.

DBPF Compare, by Pick'N'Mix Mods.

Object Relocator, also by Pick'N'Mix Mods.

SMD Tools, by Lazy Duchess.

The Compressorizer, by JFade – Lazy Duchess's edit.

Bulk Rename Utility, to change file names in well, bulk. As explained by io here.

Lot Adjustor, by Mootilda at MTS.

Tutorials:

Override the game's graphic settings via Nvidia, as explained by iCad. The settings to Nvidia Profile Inspector she linked to at MTS have been deleted for some reason, here they are via WebArchive.

Meshing in Blender:

Mesh Optimization Info (and links), by Crisps&Kerosene.

Additional - Reducing Polycount:

Tutorial, by Flaming-Chickens (another username on other sites perhaps?)

Edge – Un-subdivide, a quick one by CG Link.

Transfer high poly details to low poly object in Blender, by 3Dnot2D.

Shrinkwrap Modifier - Blender Tutorial for Beginners - Basics, by in2vert.

Placeholder for this Addon that I want to try but haven't found, something for AR that was on facebook's defunct AR.

Scaling tips, by Blender Secrets.

How to fix inverted/ flipped normals, by ipaintsmallthings.

Converting: How to Extract 3D Models, Textures, Music from Unreal Engine Games, by iwanMods.

Extract 2D/3D/SFX Unity Assets fast & easy from your Unity Game, by iwanMods as well.

How to use QuickBMS, by darkhorse.

Guide to Converting 3t2 and 4t2 Part 01 and Part 02, by Chiaroscuro/tenlittlepandas.

Converting TS4 Windows and Doors, by Crisps&Kerosene.

Using Different Material Maps as Shading/Details for Base Texture, in Gimp or Blender, by Pineapple Forest & Crisps&Kerosene: https://www.tumblr.com/crispsandkerosene/764893644571525120/great-info-thats-the-reason-some-conversions?source=share

Texture Editing in GIMP:

Using Gimp Add-ons: G'MicQT. Resynthesizer. Both by Davies Media Design. This guy's channel for Gimp in general – here's a good one to begin with. And another one about layer masks.

Making a texture Tile Seamless: 1. My favorite - How to Make Seamless Textures for Cinema 4D - 3 Levels of Photoshop Wizardry using iPhone Photos, by School of Motion.

2. Simple Trick for More Realistic Texture Patterns in GIMP, by Davies Media Design – Quick and simple, using the Resynthesizer plugin. Good for patterns.

Making walls in SimPe out of a square texture, with minimal quality loss. To be written.

SimPe: Cloneable Objects: A List of Good Objects for Cloning, by IgnorantBliss at MTS.

Huge Lunatic's Tutorials, Her website.

Object Creation for Absolute Beginners, by Moune.

Sims 2 start to finish Object Creation Tutorial, by JWoods, Numenor, Lethe_s & IgnorantBliss.

The Material Definition (TXMT) Guide, by PixelHate – very comprehensive. Part 5 is about Bump/ Normal maps.

Null (Texture-less) Groups, by Skell. For bodyshop, for Objects see an elaboration by Midge the Tree below.

Crisps&Kerosene discovered how to add specular maps to objects! It's incredible there are still new things to discover in this ancient game.

More on Specular Maps, by Pineapple Forest.

Making new flooring & walls with SimPE, by Charisa. Includes adding Bump/Normal maps. She added a file to clone from in the comments below. It works for normal maps as well. Here's cool discovery in the game files.

Expanding footprint: a mini tutorial, by Deedee.

How to add correct drop shadows to objects, by Yuxi, via Wayback Machine.

Making Objects Viewable in Neighborhood View, by iCad.

Making Objects Visible In Build/Buy Mode, Invisible In Live Mode, by Midge the Tree.

Making Seasons-Friendly Trees, by Echo.

Io/ Serabiet's resources list, mainly for Bodyshop but not just.

Pineapple Forest's Tutorials, useful tips for efficiency and optimization.

MTS modding forum in General.

The Sims 2 Tutorials, on Tumblr. A database, is more updated.

Sims2Artists tutorials section.

LeeFish modding forum.

Garden of Shadows, Tree of Knowledge section.

Troubleshooting: What to do if you get a System.OutOfMemoryException Error, SimPe Forum, via WayBack Machine. Thank you @fanseelamb for the find.

How to read object error logs: I just want to know what causes it!!, by Episims.

Common TS2 errors, by Midge the Tree.

General game fuckery: How to Stop Sims 2 Crashing (Memory Allocation Fix and 4GB Patch Repair), by Jessa.

Graphics card problems, LeeFish forum.

Graphics help - DIY, by Kiri. How to fix faulty Texture Memory allocation, and the problems that stem from it. Tumblr can't handle anymore hyper links so here it is: https://celebkiriedhel.tumblr.com/post/189431721483/graphics-help-diy

General: Switching between save folders without renaming them, by Nopke.

Resources:

3D Models Online*: Various furniture designers' websites: Porada, Zanotta, Muuto, Hay, Poltrona Frau, many luxury furniture designer basically.

3D Warehouse, belongs to Sketchfab (get the Collada files).

Scan the World.

Wikimedia Commons. And more.

*(NOT OPTIMIZED).

Textures: Architextures.

Fabrics & Wallpapers: Natural Stones: Wall Plasters:

iCad's Woods. Shastakiss's Cluedo Metals, Yeti Metals, Pirate Woods. Goat's Woods.

Textures from other games: Dishonored, Thieve and much more, by Saricoya at GoS. Dreamfell by io.

Resource sharing threads at Garden of Shadows.

SimPe - General: CEP Extras list, HugeLunatic at Sims2Artists.

TXMT settings for different materials, by Hafiseazale.

Extended SimStandardMaterial Shader for the Sims 2 + Optionally Brighter Sims, by Crisps&Kerosene.

Custom CubeMaps, by Crisps&Kerosene.

Shiny TXMT Settings & Cube Maps Packs, by Pineapple Forest.

Build/ Buy: Templates for Recoloring Maxis items; MTS Templates sction, Hafiseazale (+cc), ZeroDark.

Template for Seasonal Trees, Gwenke at Sims2Artists.

Making Roof Recolors, Tutorial & template by Numenor, great template by iCad.

Pack for making food clutter usable, by DeeDee.

CAS: Default Makeup Packages - BYO Packages, by Huge Lunatic.

Body shape, Io/Serabiet on Tumblr.

Skin template, Io/Serabiet on Tumblr.

Hair texture, iCad.

Color Actions, Pooklet on Tumblr.

That's it for now.

Edit: forgot about CEP extras. Added more links. Edit 02: Added Troubleshooting section under tutorials.

[milliesfishes]

౨ৎ꣑ৎmasterlist౨ৎ꣑ৎ ~belong~ fem reader x billy the kid thank you my darling @phantomamour for proofing!! <3

Billy wiped the sweat from his brow and stood up, brushing his pants off when he heard footsteps behind him. He’d only been out here for an hour but already he felt the sweet stretch in his limbs that came after a day of hard work. He must be getting older. While it would form a raincloud over some it put a spring in his step. There were moments when Billy took a step back and looked at all he had now when he used to have nothing, and the realization of his age was one of them.

Annie had turned eighteen last week and everyone had celebrated from the moment she woke up. You’d been emotional all day but in a happy way, hiding away in the kitchen for hours cooking a spread for her special day. Billy had taken a lengthy break from supervising Annie and Thomas to come help you, bring you into his arms between stirs. You were happy for your daughter, you knew, but there was a bittersweetness to it. She was a woman of her own now, and a wonderful one at that.

It shocked him sometimes to remember her origins, that she wasn’t always with him. Billy couldn’t for one second imagine his life without Annie. She was the best part of him, a kindhearted, creative, talented person. There truly wasn’t any way he could have done any better. He knew you felt the same way. Billy measured his time in triumphs, and the passing of Annie’s birthday was one of them.

Turning around, he was expecting to see you bounding toward him ready to leap into his arms. Instead he saw his oldest daughter’s beau standing in front of him, fingers twitching. His blonde hair was a mess as usual, and he had a nervous sort of look in his eye. Billy cleared his throat, brow furrowing in confusion. “Ah…Thomas. Can I help you with somethin’?” He turned around, gathering his tools and shoving them into their box. 

“Yes.” Thomas hurried to keep up with him as he started to walk back towards the house. Billy nodded at a few of the ranch hands as he passed them, squinting at the pen of sheep in the distance. They needed shaving soon. He’d have to let someone know. Thomas piped up again. “Sir, it’ll only take a minute, but I’ve gotta ask you somethin’.”

“Sure.” Billy set down the toolbox when they reached the shade of the tree closest to the house. His lips turned up just a bit when he saw the strategically placed large rocks spread out evenly. Names were carved crudely into the surfaces; the handiwork of his girls.

When Kat had heard about the fate of his parents and brother as well of your parents, she’d asked where you both got to visit them. Upon finding out that there was no such place, she and Annie decided to make one. “I’d wanna visit you ‘n Mama somewhere if you were gone,” Kat had said seriously. Her little words plucked at his heartstrings then and echoed in his head now. 

Help me out here, Ma, he asked quietly as he looked at the boy his daughter loved. If he tells me she’s pregnant I’ll kill him and I gave all that up. If it comes to that…forgive me and help me find a place for the body.

“Mr. Bonney,” Thomas started, holding his head high. “I…well…I love Annie very much. She’s the best thing that ever happened to me, sir. And we’ve been seeing each other for awhile. You see…I’d…” He swallowed, nodding once. “I’d like to marry her. With your permission of course.”

It felt like someone had hit him in the gut. Billy saw in his mind’s eye Annie as a little girl running up to him with a penciled drawing of flowers. He saw their evening walks, and the way she’d run to him when she had a nightmare. His little girl who was supposed to always stay little. She used to crawl onto his lap when he sat by the fireplace at night. 

He saw the girl whose head barely reached up to his waist hugging him when he handed her her first set of paints. The tenderness in her eyes when she held Kat for the first time. Her endless joy and optimism and the way she’d lit up the house since the moment she’d first arrived. The last image that flashed before his eyes before he came down to earth was of her holding a stranger’s hand, standing in the frame of the door with wet hair and shiny eyes. A piece of his heart he’d unknowingly given away hurtling back to him.

“Marry?” he repeated, voice breaking ever so slightly. Breathing once through his nose, he tried to quiet the ringing in his ears. “Marry. I see.”

Thomas watched him for a moment before speaking. “I love her very much, Mr. Bonney. And I’ve got a job lined up with one of the lawyers in town, so I’ll be making enough to provide for us in no time.” He blinked, words growing softer. “She’s…she’s incredible, sir. I’ve never met anyone so good in my life. She makes me better just by being alive and I can only hope I make her feel that way too. I want to do everything with her. I want to make sure she has what she deserves. Well, she deserves everything, but I’ll start here.” There was a boldness in his expression that Billy hadn’t seen in him before. 

His shoulders slumped. “Everything.”

“Look, Mr. Bonney, I know I must seem like just a kid to you.” Billy lifted his eyes at that. Thomas clasped his hands in front of him. “But sir, I love her more than I’ve ever loved anything. I honestly don’t know if I’m good enough for her, but she’s everything to me. You’ve been kind enough to let me see her for all these years but I want longer than that. Forever, if it’s alright.”

“Marry her. Forever,” he whispered, scrubbing a hand over his face. Time froze for a second, and Billy saw his daughter’s face in his mind again. This time she was all grown up, freshly eighteen with flowers in her hair, kissing Thomas on the porch as the sun set in front of them. He could see she loved him. He could see he loved her.

Billy remembered you whispering about how they reminded you of the two of you. Their love was quiet, without the tumultuous beginning he’d had with you. Maybe this was how it would have been if you’d met another way. He looked over at his ma’s stone. This was the life she’d wanted for him. She’d been looking out for his family all along.

He reached a hand out, clamping it hand on Thomas’ shoulder. “You’ve got a good head, Thomas. And my Annie…she loves you. You make her real happy.” With a steady nod, he reached down to pick up his toolbox again. “D’ya have a ring?”

Immediately, Thomas nodded. “I do. I didn’t get it long ago, sir. It ain’t a diamond but I hope she’ll like it.”

“She will,” Billy assured him, taking in a breath. 

A smile threatened to split Thomas’ face open. “Thank you, Mr. Bonney. Thank you very, very much!” He turned away, looking happier than Billy had ever seen anybody. 

Watching him run off in the other direction, Billy couldn’t help a smile of his own. You’d been right when you said this boy reminded you of him. If your father had said yes to him the way he just had he might have died of happiness.

Staggering up to the house, Billy left his toolbox on the porch and opened the door in search of you. He found you in the kitchen, sitting on the counter and leaning back against the cabinets, drinking a glass of water. You put the glass down as soon as you saw him, reaching your arms out. “You weren’t out too long, sweetheart. I’m proud of you.” Hurrying into your arms, he bent so his face was buried in your chest. Your fingers curled into his hair and he groaned into you.

“What’s the matter, my love?” you cooed, kissing the top of his head. 

“Omas ak ee oo arry Annie,” he said muffled into you.

“Hmm?” 

He lifted his face, looking at you wearily. “Thomas asked me to marry Annie.”

Your face didn’t change. The smile stayed on your face, and you thumbed his cheek. “He asked me too. Yesterday.”

“Huh?” Billy stood up straight. “He asked you first?”

“Of course he did,” you giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck. “He told me he’d take good care of our girl and he has a new-”

“Job with a lawyer. Yeah, I know,” he finished for you, the tiniest of frowns on his face. “Baby you didn’t warn me.”

“Because I knew you’d overthink it,” you said, kissing his nose. “And I was sure you’d come up with a lovely, responsible, mature response all on your own.”

Trying not to pout, he steadied his hands on your sides, standing fully between your legs now. “I did.”

“Of course you did.” Leaning in, you laid your head on his chest, planting a kiss on his chest. “Oh, Billy she’s gonna be so happy. Our sweet Annie a bride.”

He hugged you tight, hiding a smile in your hair. You were right as always, and you knew that he knew it. You wrapped your legs around his waist, rubbing his back. “Oh, my darling. You’ve come so far from the first time you threatened Thomas’ life.”

It was obvious Annie had no idea. Billy was trying hard to keep it inside, but he felt emotional even looking at her most days. She was happy as could be though, keeping to her paintings and spending lots of time with both Kat and Thomas.

When you came home announcing that Kat had a crush Billy nearly fainted. “Already?” he muttered into your neck. “She’s five.” 

“Well, I think she’s a little more in tune about these things than Annie was,” you murmured, kissing his cheek. “It’s okay. We’ve got awhile before she starts having boyfriends.”

“Boyfriends? More than one?” he groaned, arms winding around your waist. “Baby don’t say it like that. You’re gonna make it come true.”

“If it comes true it would have no matter what,” you insisted, reaching up to pet his hair gently. “You did a good job getting through it with Annie. You’ll do just fine with Kat.”

He only grunted in return, but you hummed happily, patting his head. “It’s okay, Daddy. All this means is that you love your girls very much.”

Billy didn’t know what to do when Kat started talking about a cute boy in town at dinner and he definitely didn’t know what to do when Annie informed him later that the boy was nearing seventeen and he’d been one of her classmates. You assured him it was something that happened to all girls, and he tried to believe you.

Thomas’ visits started to become less frequent. This confused Billy, but didn’t seem to worry Annie in some way. Maybe a few years ago he’d have enjoyed the break but after the conversation under the tree a week ago he was confused. 

“Oh, he’s just got a lot going on with work,” Annie dismissed it. “He’s been very busy but I think he likes it.” She smiled at Billy. “I’ll tell him you asked. It’s very nice of you.”

Inside he knew that nobody would know better than Annie, but it was still a point of concern. Something nagged at him- a feeling he’d only really gotten with his children. He was starting to worry about Thomas like he was one of his own, and it surprisingly didn’t bother him to think of him that way. He was marrying his daughter- now was as good a time to take him under his wing as any.

There was plenty to keep Billy busy around the ranch without worrying about Thomas, but he did anyways. He thought of him when he was ordering field hands and when he watched some of the older men coach the younger ones. Most of all he thought of Thomas when he saw Annie waiting by the window, smiling, but tensely. That was when he started to feel worse about it. 

“I don’t know,” you said as you knelt in the garden, lips bunched to the side. “Annie hasn’t said anything to me, but that’s a good sign, right?”

“Yeah,” he said absently, nodding when you stood up and took his hands. “Yeah. It’s fine.”

You squinted at something over his shoulder before reaching up and kissing his cheek, squeezing his hands. “You can ask him now.” Motioning with your eyes, you let go of him as he turned around to see exactly the person he’d been looking for walking up towards the two of you, an anxious look on his face. 

Thomas was dressed in nice clothes, riding boots shoved over his trousers. He looked more nervous than when he’d asked for Annie’s hand, if that was possible. As was his habit, he ran a hand over his already messy hair. “Mr. Bonney…can I talk to you? Please?”

“‘F course,” Billy said right away, turning back to you. He lifted one of the hands he was holding, kissing your knuckles. “I’ll be in soon, m’kay?” You nodded quietly, letting go of his hands and returning to your flowers.

“Come over here.” Billy ushered him to the nearby shed, hand on his shoulder. Once the door was shut, he shifted to look him in the eye. “Talk to me. What’s goin’ on?”

Thomas took in a hitched breath. “I’m…I’m in trouble, sir. I’ve got…I did something stupid.”

“Hey,” Billy guided him to sit down on the bench next to him, searching his face. “You can tell me.” When Thomas hesitated, he patted his shoulder. “I’m not one to judge. There’s a lot of things I’ve done in my life that I regret, worse things than I’m sure a good kid like you’s done.”

“I…” Thomas breathed in again. “I got in trouble with one of the gangs in town. I was trying to earn some extra money but it all went wrong and then somehow I owed them and now I’ve got nothing left. They robbed me.”

Billy was silent. He watched his daughter’s beloved squirm in place for a moment, sorting through it all in his head. Finally, he found what he wanted to say. “Why were you doin’ business with gangs?” His tone was careful, and he kept his eyes soft.

“I need the money. For me ‘n Annie,” he explained, gaze dropping to his boots as he fidgeted with his hands. “My folks kicked me out. I’ve been living at a boarding house in town and my job pays alright but I didn’t think it was enough with the rent. Not to get a decent place for her. I thought I could trust this gang so I cut a few corners for them, pulled some favors cause they said they’d pay me. But now I’ve got nothing left.” He looked so emotional that Billy had the urge to call for you. You’d be better at dealing with this than him.

Still, Thomas had come to him, not you. Billy waited for him to meet his eyes before asking quietly, “Your folks turned you out? Why?”

“They…” Thomas winced. “They didn’t like the idea of me getting married.”

“They don’t like Annie?” He kept his tone even.

He looked away again. “They don’t like her kin.”

A silence fell over the shed. Billy clenched his jaw, the ghosts of the past coming back again. Every time he’d thought he made peace with it things hurtled back at him. He’d take every punch so his girls didn’t have to, but lately most were thrown behind his back. 

Thomas looked upset, so he didn’t press it. Instead, Billy nodded. “I see.”

“Sir, I promise it’s had no effect on me,” Thomas said earnestly, meeting Billy’s eyes desperately. “You and Mrs. Bonney are two of the nicest people I’ve ever met, and I know how much you care about your girls. Whatever happened in the past is past. That was a long time ago.”

“I appreciate that, Thomas.” Billy stood up, fingers finding his chin. He scratched at his jaw and fixed his stare on a board of the wall straight ahead.

“I know this is a lot to hear, sir.” Thomas sounded defeated. “About the money and my folks. I’d understand if you’d want to rescind your blessing. I came here today cause I didn’t want to be dishonest. I love Annie, but she deserves better than this.”

Billy turned around, looking him in the eye. “I’m gonna give you some money.”

“What?” The shock in the boy’s face was prevalent. “I…sir, that’s not-”

“As long as you promise not to get involved with the gangs again,” he continued, still thinking it over. “No son-in-law of mine is gonna be workin’ himself to death when he should be spending time with my daughter, who he makes very happy.” Billy gave him a pointed look. 

“Sir, I can’t take the money from the ranch,” he tried.

“You can pay me back over time if that’s what you’re worried about,” Billy folded his arms, expression even as he looked down at him. “But I want you and Annie to have a nice place. You’re a good kid. You don’t need to be takin’ back roads when you’ve been makin’ an honest living up ‘till now.”

“I…” Thomas’ face was shifting into disbelief. “Mr. Bonney-”

“Billy,” he corrected, corner of his mouth turning up. 

Thomas looked at him for a moment, something blooming in his eyes. He stood up, reaching out to shake his hand. “Thank you Mr. Bo- Billy. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, letting go and patting him on the back. “I think you should go in and see her. She’s been worried about you. We all have.”

Smiling, Thomas nodded at him before leaving the shed. After he was gone, Billy let himself smile all the way. Scratching the back of his neck. He couldn’t put into words how glad he was, the gratitude he felt. Settling a hand over his heart, he whispered, “Thanks, Ma.”

He found you inside, reading something on the couch, Fish and Willow lazing about on the floor. Billy went straight for you, taking the book out of your hands and pulling you up to kiss him. Fish meowed but he ignored him.

You smiled when he pulled back, removing his hat and smoothing a hand over his curls. “Talk went well?”

“Mhm.” He rested his chin on your head and you tucked yourself so your nose was pressed into his neck. Even though he was all sweaty from work outside you’d said many times before that you loved how he smelled no matter what.

Patting his chest, you whispered, “You know Thomas and Annie are upstairs…?”

“Let ‘em be,” he murmured, sitting down with you still clasped in his arms. “They’re young ‘n in love.”

“Who are you and what have you done with my Billy?”

“Baby.” He kissed the top of your head. “You were right.”

He could practically hear your smile. “Was I?”

Billy smiled too as you snuggled into his chest, and he began to stroke a hand up and down your side. “You always are.”

Previous Part | Next Part

[pocket-size-cthulhu]

The key to proper Jinx care is giving her structure, praise, and most of all, creative outlets. Providing her with plenty of creative outlets is absolutely essential as she becomes destructive when bored. Required materials may include: scrap metal; every kind of paint and crayon; things she is allowed to draw on, including walls, household items, and ideally the faces or limbs of patient loved ones; a toolbox; sewing supplies; a welding kit; and nail polish. She should be allowed freedom to explore, but it is vital that all of her core needs are met at home so she doesn't go looking for what she needs somewhere else, as this rarely ends well for anyone involved.

Jinx has a standoffish demeanor but loves her family fiercely. An optimal Jinx environment includes both older and younger family members for her to care for in her own way, which may include providing entertainment, giving gifts (often of her own make), playing harmless pranks, and dyeing their hair; most of all, she should be allowed - not forced - to be useful to them.

Being a first-time Jinx caretaker is always a challenge, but with proper care, she is content, creative, nondestructive and sometimes even caring and gentle. Be patient with her, she's worth it!

[tainbocuailnge]

arknights toolbox doesn't reflect this right now but ptrs wiki confirms wulfenite's traps are indeed manual detonation. both skills cost 20sp to create a trap at m3 (compared to 12sp for other trapmasters save ela) and each trap needs 8sp before it can detonate. I don't know if operator devices with sp costs are affected by sp gain modifiers from collectibles or stage gimmicks, any muelsyse havers who can weigh in?

wulfenite can only hold 4 traps and place up to 3 traps (4 with potentials) as opposed to regular trapmasters going up to 10, but that feels like a fair exchange for the massive convenience of getting to choose when they explode.

s1 has a 3 second stun on it, so if you have a row of 4 stun mines set up you have time to place at least 2 more after the first one is triggered, not accounting for the time it takes the enemies to move to the next tile. no target limit means you can delay large groups of enemies like this with the right timing, as long as they can be stunned.

the damage modifiers on wulfenite's traps are a bit lower than for other trapmasters, probably also tax paid for manual detonation. her s2 deals physical damage twice, inflicts -25% def, and can chain explode, so depending on where between those two hits the debuff is applied I feel like her damage potential is still pretty high.

her module is the usual 20% chance for a mine that deals double damage, and increases the damage traps deal when there are 2 or more enemies in effect range by 12%. since they're manual detonation, as long as you're not trying to set up an autodeploy it's completely feasible to just fish for crit mines and then greet your actual targets with a big double damage chain explosion.

s1 and s2 both have a 250% modifier with s2 hitting twice so at 633 atk with trust/mod/pots/etc that means mines deal 1582 physical damage per hit, 1772 if hitting 2 or more targets, and increased to 3165 (3545) if it's a crit mine. the average def of designated high def enemies is 1000-1200 so she's doing enough damage to breach that.

a bit sad that they specify that the def debuff doesn't stack but also can you imagine lmao. in the beautiful world the debuff is applied before the damage, but looking at other two-hit skills with debuffs the most likely scenario is that it applies after the first hit. that means in optimal wulfenite gaming she'll be dealing 8 hits of 3.5k with half of those being after a 25% def debuff. a guerilla shieldguard has 1300 def and 15,000 hp, and optimal wulfenite gaming will hit it for 19,260 damage, instantly vaporising it (but only 5075 damage if 0 out of 4 mines crit)

that's some wildly fluctuating damage and her primary utility is obviously the ability to slap debuffs on enemies anywhere* on the map. she offers 25% def down for 5 seconds with an effective 8 second cooldown in multiple places on the map that can be prepared in advance, and thanks to the surrounding 4 tiles range it can also be reapplied on enemies that are already blocked. it might be best to think of wulfenite as a kind of shamare sidegrade with less potency but more placement flexibility and higher personal damage.

[giftofgabber]

I am optimizing my toolbox… this is an allowed and encouraged practice within tool-using and -relying life! in fact it is an requirement i.e. all the fucks ever given [1]

listen here pleaseee

↖️ click this to hear my hear my new prioritize-optium way of stating the principle of sufficient variety

[1] enhanced portrayal of the un-unreferenced quote “all the fucks ever given”

[thepersonalwords]

Social orientation can be used to your advantage to make a great first impression; however, it can also backfire when we violate the boundaries of someone else’s personal space. Awareness of space, orientation, and proximity is a powerful tool for your relationship toolbox.

Susan C. Young, The Art of Body Language: 8 Ways to Optimize Non-Verbal Communication for Positive Impact

[morgan-va]

Chapter 16: Oil and Optimism (Serial Designation V x Reader)

Masterlist

Balancing precariously on the top rung of a ladder, you twist a fresh bulb into the ceiling fixture, the dull flicker of the dying light replaced by a clean, white glow. You step down a rung, shifting your weight as you pull another bulb from the box resting on the desk below. The mundane rhythm of work keeps your thoughts tethered, a temporary reprieve from the strange undercurrent of unease that's been growing steadily in your mind.

The classroom is eerily silent, the empty desks and chairs giving the room a ghostly atmosphere. You reach up again, fixing your focus on the fixture to avoid getting lost in the labyrinth of your own head.

The sudden, unmistakable sound of the door slamming open almost sends you toppling off the ladder. A loud, familiar voice cuts through the air like a knife.

“Yo, Techy, you die up there or something?”

Your grip tightens on the ladder as you glance down, your pulse quickening. There, leaning casually against the doorframe, is Uzi. Her arms are crossed, her ever-present scowl softened by a flicker of mischief in her eyes.

“Uzi!” you blurt, catching yourself just in time. “You trying to get me killed or what?”

She snickers, stepping into the room and giving the ladder a dubious glance. “Bite me,” she says, rolling her eyes. “You’re the one wobbling around like a baby deer.”

You sigh, carefully replacing another bulb. “What are you doing here? Don’t tell me you’re joining the Maintenance Team now.”

“Nah, just checking in on my favorite ladder jockey.” She smirks, pulling out a chair and spinning it backward before sitting down, chin propped on her arms. “Guess you haven’t electrocuted yourself yet. Color me impressed.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” you mutter, stepping down to grab another bulb. “Let me guess, you’re bored?”

“Painfully. Everyone’s too busy pretending to care about bunker duties. Thought I’d annoy you instead.”

You chuckle despite yourself. “Mission accomplished. So, what’s new in Uzi’s world of high-tech carnage?”

She shrugs, glancing around the room. “Eh, nothing exciting. Just tinkering with a few… projects. By the way, if anyone asks about that hole in the wall from yesterday—”

“Didn’t see anything, don’t know anything,” you interrupt, giving her a knowing look.

“Good answer.” She grins, leaning back. “You’re starting to get the hang of this whole bunker politics thing.”

As you finish installing the last bulb, you feel her gaze on you. It's not uncomfortable, just… expectant, like she’s waiting for you to say something. You step down, dusting your hands off.

“So, what brings you to this fine establishment of higher learning? You don’t strike me as the type to come to class when you aren’t forced by Khan.” you ask, gesturing to the empty classroom.

“Thought I’d see what all the hype for after-school clubs is about,” she says dryly. “This is where Dad says we’re raising the next generation of drone geniuses, right? Looks like a bunch of empty chairs to me.”

You chuckle, packing up your tools. “You’re not wrong. I think the hype died about the same time the fluorescent lights did.”

Her expression softens, almost imperceptibly. “You okay?”

You pause, caught off guard. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

She shrugs, standing up and brushing imaginary dust off her sleeves. “Dunno. You look… I don’t know, tired or something.”

You give her a small smile. “Just a long day.”

“You’re a horrible liar if you say that’s all it is,” she retorts, but there’s no bite in her voice this time.

“Thanks for the concern, I guess, but really I’m fine” you reply, letting out a light laugh as you grab your toolbox.

Uzi narrows her eyes, leaning slightly closer. “Hey, can you do me a favor?” she asks casually, though the tone suggests something more devious.

You step down from the ladder, toolbox in hand, and glance at her. “What kind of favor?”

She crosses her arms, glancing toward the door as if to make sure no one’s around. “I need something from my dad, but I don’t want to draw suspicion or anything. And, well… I have no idea where he keeps it.”

You blink at her, deadpan. “Let me guess. You’re looking for his door master key?”

Uzi’s jaw drops slightly, her cheeks puffing out in frustration. “How did you—? I didn’t even—”

“Please.” You smirk, crossing your arms. “You’re predictable once you get to know you.”

Her expression hardens, and she jabs a finger in your direction. “Bite me!”

You laugh, genuinely amused as you tuck the tools back into your box. “Oh, don’t worry, Uzi. That’s why I like you. Anyway, yeah, I know exactly where he keeps it.”

Her glare softens into something more inquisitive. “Okay, spill. Where’s he hiding it?”

You shrug, feigning indifference. “What’s in it for me?”

She groans, rubbing her temples dramatically. “You’re seriously asking for payment now? After all those times I didn’t blow you up?”

“Tempting offer,” you say with a grin. “But I’m curious. Why do you want the master key? What’s this for?”

Uzi waves you off, her tone nonchalant but evasive. “Nothing major. Just… a project.”

“Uh-huh,” you reply, unconvinced. “Well, if you must know, your dad keeps it in his bedroom. Big surprise, right? Along with the rest of his, uh, door memorabilia.”

Uzi tilts her head, looking both intrigued and exasperated. “You’re joking.”

“Nope,” you say, popping the ‘p’ for emphasis. “It’s a little shrine to his one true love—door technology. Pretty sure you’ll find the key in there somewhere.”

She lets out a breath, shaking her head. “Okay, first, that’s embarrassing for me. Second, thanks, I guess. And third—if you tell anyone about this, I’ll make sure you regret it.”

“Noted,” you say, mock-saluting her. “Good luck with… whatever this project is.”

As she turns to leave, she stops for a moment and glances over her shoulder. “Seriously though… thanks. Even if you’re an annoying know-it-all.”

“Anytime, Uzi. Anytime.”

She rolls her eyes but doesn’t say anything else, vanishing out the door as quickly as she entered. You shake your head with a chuckle, wondering what sort of chaos she’s about to stir up this time.

.

.

As you settle into your usual spot for lunch, tucked away from the noise of the bunker’s bustling common areas, the solitude is a welcome reprieve. With a sigh, you take a sip from your cup of oil, the smooth texture and faint tang oddly comforting. For a moment, the world feels calm.

But, of course, peace doesn’t last long here.

“Привет. (Hello)”

The sudden voice makes you glance up mid-sip. Standing a few feet away, her expression unreadable as always, is Doll. Her piercing eyes seem to scan you, though her face remains impassive.

You set the cup down slowly, swallowing. “Oh, hey, Doll. Didn’t see you there.”

She doesn’t respond right away, her head tilting slightly as if she’s assessing you. Finally, she speaks again. “Ты другой.” (You are different.)

Her words hang in the air, vague and unsettling.

“Different?” you echo, frowning. “Different how?”

Doll takes a slow, deliberate step closer, her gaze unwavering. “Ты не такой, как они.” (You’re not like them.)

You lean back slightly, confused. “Okay… but could you be a little more specific? I’m kind of running on fumes here.”

Her eyes narrow slightly, and for a moment, it feels like she’s looking through you rather than at you. She finally sits across from you, still silent as her presence weighs on the moment.

“Look, I don’t know what you’re getting at,” you say, trying to ease the tension. “But I’m just... me. Same as I’ve always been.”

“Нет,” (No,) she replies, voice quiet but firm. “Тебе это известно. Внутри.” (You know it. Inside.)

Her words stir something, a faint unease you’ve tried to push down for months. That phantom pain in your chest, the fragmented whispers in the quiet of your mind—it all comes rushing back for a moment.

You force a chuckle, trying to shake the feeling. “Maybe I’m different because I don’t sit around playing cards with Khan and the WDF, well.. most of the time. That’s gotta count for something, right?”

Doll doesn’t laugh, but there’s the faintest twitch of her lips. She stands without another word, as abruptly as she arrived.

“Подумай об этом.” (Think about it,) she says before turning and walking away, her silhouette blending into the crowded corridor.

You sit there, staring after her, your appetite suddenly gone. Different. The word sticks with you, an itch you can’t quite scratch.

With a sigh, you down the rest of your oil in one gulp and try to focus on your next task, hoping to bury the nagging thoughts that have been stirred to life once again.

After finishing your cup of oil and shaking off Doll’s cryptic words, you head out of the lunchroom, toolbox in hand. You’ve got a meeting scheduled with Khan and the Worker Defense Force—something about faulty mechanisms on a few bunker doors. Not exactly thrilling, but it’s all in a day’s work.

The walk to the WDF office is short, the chatter of drones in the halls fading into the background as you focus on the task ahead. By the time you step through the door, the familiar, chaotic energy of the group greets you like a slap to the face.

Khan is at the head of the room, as usual, leaning back in a chair with a self-satisfied grin. Around him, the other WDF members are seated, though none of them seem particularly focused. A stack of cards is suspiciously visible in the middle of the table, and a bag of chips lies half-spilled across the surface.

“Ah, our favorite maintenance drone!” Khan calls out, spreading his arms dramatically as you enter. “You’re here to save the day yet again, eh?”

You can’t help but smirk. “I’m here to keep the place from collapsing on you. Big difference.”

Khan laughs boisterously, slapping the table for effect. “Semantics! Anyway, we’ve got a couple of doors jamming on Deck C. Not great for bunker morale when folks can’t even get to the good vending machines, you know?”

“Right, vending machine access is priority one,” you deadpan, setting your toolbox on the table.

“Exactly! See, you get it.” Khan flashes a grin before gesturing toward the room’s projector screen, which remains resolutely blank.

One of the WDF drones, slouched in a chair, pipes up. “Also, uh, the main storage bay door is stuck halfway open. It’s been like that for three days.”

“Three days?” you echo, incredulous.

“Yeah, but we, uh, put a cone in front of it,” another drone adds, as if that solves the issue.

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Cones aren’t door repairs, you know that, right?”

Khan waves a hand dismissively. “Details, details. Anyway, that’s why you’re here! Deck C first, then the storage bay. Easy stuff for a pro like you.”

You roll your eyes but grab your notes. As ridiculous as this group can be, you know you’ll get the job done—just another day in the bunker.

“Anything else I should know?” you ask, slinging your toolbox back onto your shoulder.

“Yeah,” Khan says, grinning. “If you’re heading down there, grab some chips from the vending machine for me. The jalapeño ones. You know, as a show of gratitude.”

You shake your head, already heading toward the door. “I’ll see what I can do, Khan. Try not to break anything else while I’m gone.”

Khan’s laughter follows you out into the hall. Another day, another repair job.

You make your way to Deck C, navigating the usual maze of hallways with practiced ease. The hum of the bunker’s machinery fills the air, but there’s an unsettling quiet that seems to settle over you as you approach the vending machine hallway. You’re not sure if it’s the anticipation of dealing with another broken mechanism or something else entirely.

When you reach the entrance to the vending area, the problem is immediately apparent. The door is stuck halfway open, just like Khan said. It’s not the most complicated issue, but it’s a pain when the only thing standing between you and a snack is a stubborn door. You reach down to examine the mechanism and notice the faint squeal of grinding metal when you touch it, telling you exactly what needs fixing.

The jamming is likely caused by something in the track—either debris or a misaligned part. You kneel down, pulling out your toolbox, and start to work. There’s a bit of rust around the edges of the door’s sliding track, and you can feel the tension in the mechanism as you pry it open just enough to slide a wrench into place.

You manage to pop the first panel off, revealing the mess inside. As you work, your mind drifts, not to the task at hand, but to the strange conversation with Doll earlier. You replay her words in your head: “You are different.” The words keep echoing in your mind, and you can’t help but wonder what she meant by that. Was it something she noticed in the way you handled your work? Or maybe it was something more personal, like the ongoing strain of trying to keep your sanity intact in this place.

Shaking your head, you push the thoughts aside. You came here to fix doors, not to unravel your mind.

With a few more twists of the wrench, you’ve loosened the mechanism enough to free the door. It slides open with ease now, and you give it a quick test.

"Perfect," you mutter, wiping your hands on your jumpsuit.

You stand up, stretching your back as you take a moment to survey the vending machines. They’re fully stocked—well, most of them are. It’s easy to imagine Khan’s excitement when he’s eyeing those jalapeño chips.

As you gather your tools and start heading back to the exit, the quiet of the hallway suddenly feels too thick, too oppressive. You can’t quite shake the feeling that something’s off. You look around, but it’s just the usual dull walls, metal doors, and flickering overhead lights. Nothing unusual.

Just a typical day.

You push the uneasy feeling down, turning to leave. The job’s done. Now, time to move on to the next.

You make your way to the main storage bay, grumbling to yourself about the WDF's antics. The idea that such a critical door had been left malfunctioning for three days—with only a single cone as a warning—was peak WDF. The cone might as well have a little sticky note reading, "Problem solved!"

When you arrive, the sight is exactly as you expected. The massive storage bay door is jammed halfway open, with the solitary orange cone sitting proudly in front of it like a guard on duty.

You can’t help but scoff. “Unbelievable,” you mutter, shaking your head. The cone, predictably, has a comically handwritten label taped to it that reads: CAUTION: DOOR STUCK.

“Yeah, that’ll stop someone,” you add dryly, kicking the cone lightly out of your way as you approach the problem.

The door, which is supposed to slide effortlessly on its heavy-duty tracks, is caught mid-motion, revealing just enough space for someone to crawl through if they dared. It’s probably caused some delays for deliveries and restocking, not to mention the obvious safety hazard. Yet somehow, no one in the WDF had thought it was urgent enough to fix themselves. Typical.

Setting your toolbox down, you step closer and begin inspecting the tracks and the motor above the doorframe. The control panel blinks in a way that immediately spells trouble. A quick diagnostic confirms your suspicion: the sensor alignment is completely out of sync.

“Of course,” you mutter. “Can’t ever just be something simple, can it?”

Grabbing a screwdriver and a diagnostic tool, you start making adjustments to the sensor module. It’s finicky work, requiring you to get up close and personal with the grime-covered machinery, but you fall into your usual rhythm.

The quiet hum of the machinery fills the space as you tighten screws, recalibrate the sensors, and reset the motor's alignment. You even clear some debris lodged in the upper track that was likely contributing to the problem.

As you work, the absurdity of the lone cone comes back to mind, and you let out a chuckle. “I should’ve left a sticky note: ‘Head Tech was here. Fixed your door. You're welcome.’”

Finally, after a few more adjustments, you step back and press the reset button on the control panel. The door groans loudly as the motor engages, but after a tense moment, it begins to slide open and shut smoothly.

“Victory,” you announce to no one in particular.

You pick up your toolbox and glance down at the cone you’d kicked aside earlier. With a smirk, you grab it and place it neatly to the side, right in view of the next WDF member who comes by.

“Your real MVP,” you say, patting the cone sarcastically before heading off to your next task.

Noticing the time on your watch, you realize it’s getting late. Time always seems to slip away when you’re neck-deep in repairs, but it’s not like you have much to do after hours anyway. With a sigh, you gather your larger tools and start the trek back to the workshop, toolbox clanking softly in rhythm with your footsteps.

Once there, you carefully place the tools back in their respective spots on the pegboard, ensuring everything is neat and ready for tomorrow. Your toolbelt, as always, is hung on the hook by the door—a small but comforting ritual. Stepping back to admire the orderliness of the workshop, you allow yourself a faint smile. At least something in this bunker is reliable.

With that done, you make your way back to your room. Opening the door, you’re greeted by the same spartan interior you’ve grown accustomed to. The small couch in the corner, the desk piled with spare parts and unfinished gadgets, and the bed you’ve never bothered to personalize. It’s a far cry from cozy, but it’s yours.

You hang your jacket on the back of the chair and plop down on the couch, letting out a long, tired sigh. Your mind starts to wander to the events of the day—Uzi’s antics, Doll’s cryptic comments, the vending machine door, the ridiculous cone guarding the storage bay. It’s a lot to process, but dwelling on it isn’t going to help.

Looking for a distraction, your eyes land on the stack of old VHS tapes sitting next to your portable player. You’d found them in a dusty storage closet a few weeks ago, half-buried under a pile of forgotten junk. The labels on the cases are faded, and most of the handwriting is illegible, but that only adds to the intrigue.

“Why not?” you murmur, grabbing one of the tapes and sliding it into the player.

The screen flickers to life with the familiar grainy quality of old recordings. A logo for some ancient entertainment company appears, followed by the opening credits of what looks like a cheesy sci-fi movie. You chuckle softly at the retro-futuristic designs, the overly dramatic narration, and the comically bad special effects.

As the movie plays, you let yourself relax, sinking into the worn cushions of the couch. It’s nice to escape, even if just for a while, into a world of laser guns, space pirates, and melodramatic plot twists.

Your mind drifts somewhere between the action on the screen and the hum of the bunker around you. Despite the chaos of the day, for a brief moment, everything feels… still.

And for now, that’s enough.

As you settle into the familiar routine of watching the old movie, your eyelids grow heavy. The nonsensical dialogue, the over-the-top explosions, and the absurdly dramatic soundtrack begin to blur together, forming a haze that wraps around your mind like a blanket. You try to focus, but your brain feels too slow to keep up with the bizarre happenings on-screen. The dim light of the TV flickers in the room, casting strange shadows on the walls.

The film starts to distort in ways you can’t quite explain. The voices on the screen warble, the images jump and shift like a broken signal, and it feels less like you're watching a film and more like you're inside it. Everything feels off.

Then, out of nowhere, a symbol flashes on the screen—sharp, angular, and unsettling. It’s not like anything you’ve seen before, a jagged design that feels both familiar and alien at the same time. Your heart skips a beat as a strange unease settles in your chest. The symbol pulses on the screen, growing larger with every flash, as if it’s trying to pull you in, drag you deeper into its meaning.

A sudden, sharp pain slices through your chest. It’s the same phantom pain you’ve felt before—like something is tearing at you from the inside. Your vision blurs, and the room around you starts to distort, the edges of the walls warping into strange shapes, the air becoming thick and heavy.

You gasp, the pain intensifying, but before you can react, everything fades to black.

.

You sit up, disoriented and groggy, your body feeling strange, like you've been jolted awake from a deep sleep. But the sense of unease is still there, gnawing at the edges of your mind. You’re no longer on the couch, and as you try to gather your bearings, you realize—this isn’t your room.

Instead, you're standing in a desolate, darkened place. The floor beneath you is cracked and uneven, stretching out into an endless abyss. Shadows twist around you, forming shapes that almost seem to move on their own. It’s cold—no, not just cold—empty.

A low hum vibrates through the ground beneath you. The walls are lined with rusted, mechanical structures, like broken machines abandoned long ago. This place—it feels like a dream, a nightmare, but not one you can wake up from.

And then you hear it. That same, robotic voice again. It echoes around you, disembodied, too distorted to understand. The words blur together into something indecipherable, but the tone—the tone is wrong. It’s off.

Your chest tightens with that phantom pain once again, almost like it’s pulling you in, like it’s part of the air, part of the environment here. You can’t escape it, not even if you wanted to.

The voice grows louder, more insistent, and the symbol from the TV flashes again in your mind’s eye—sharp, jagged, familiar—and it pulls at you, drawing you toward it, deeper into the nightmare.

You try to scream, but no sound comes out. All you can do is stand there, helpless, as the world around you shifts and warps even further.

The shadows around you seem to thicken, pulling in closer like a living fog. The low hum grows louder, resonating through your bones as the air seems to buzz with tension. You feel paralyzed, your breath caught in your throat, as a figure emerges from the darkness.

At first, it’s hard to make out the details. The figure’s frame is humanoid, but something about it feels wrong, unsettling. As it steps closer, the dim, flickering light reveals a worker drone. She’s dressed in a pristine maid’s uniform, the lace and frills at odds with the ominous atmosphere surrounding her. Her movements are slow, deliberate, as if she’s completely aware of your presence and savoring every step.

You try to call out, but the words stick in your throat, trapped under the weight of the phantom pain still clawing at your chest. The drone stops a few feet away, tilting her head with an almost childlike curiosity. Her screen flickers, glitching for a moment, before displaying that same jagged, alien symbol that had flashed on the TV.

The whispers in your head, those endless, incomprehensible voices that had haunted you for months, suddenly stop. The silence is deafening, and for a moment, you think it might be over. But then, the drone’s screen flashes again, and a voice—her voice—cuts through the stillness.

“Your time has almost come,” she says, her tone eerily soft, almost gentle, yet dripping with something darker beneath.

Her screen flashes again, and the symbol pulses in time with the words, as if emphasizing their weight.

You manage to force out a shaky, “Who—who are you?”

The drone doesn’t respond right away. Instead, she smiles, a strange, unsettling expression that doesn’t quite reach her glowing eyes. Her body twitches slightly, as if something inside her is struggling for control.

“I’ve been… waiting,” she says, her voice layered with static, the edges of her words fraying into distortion. “You’re so close now. So very close.”

You step back instinctively, your pulse racing as you feel the air around you grow heavier. “What—what do you mean? Close to what?”

The drone takes another step forward, and her head tilts again, almost mockingly. “You’ll see,” she whispers, her tone dropping to something that feels like a mix between a promise and a threat.

And then, without warning, the world around you begins to crack apart. The ground beneath you shatters like glass, and the figure of the drone disappears into the void below, her screen flashing one last time with the symbol as her distorted laugh echoes all around you.

You wake with a start, gasping for air, back on the couch in your room. The TV is off, the VHS tape ejected, sitting innocently on the floor.

But the phantom pain in your chest is still there, lingering like a scar.

You glance at the clock on the wall, its neon digits glowing faintly in the dim room: 3:00 AM. The stillness of the hour wraps around you, suffocating and heavy. The remnants of the nightmare cling to your thoughts like cobwebs, and the confined space of your room suddenly feels unbearable.

Grabbing your jacket, you step out into the hallway. The cold, metallic walls stretch endlessly before you, the faint hum of the bunker’s systems your only company. You try to focus on the rhythmic sound of your footsteps, anything to drown out the phantom pain still echoing in your chest.

As you turn a corner, you stop in your tracks. There, not far ahead, stands Uzi, her silhouette unmistakable. She’s clutching her railgun in one hand, the sleek weapon gleaming faintly in the low light. In her other hand, she holds a floppy disk, the words “DOOR MASTER KEY” scribbled on it in bold, messy handwriting.

For a moment, the two of you just stare at each other.

“…Should I even ask?” you say, your voice breaking the silence.

Uzi jumps slightly, clearly not expecting anyone to be wandering around at this hour. She quickly tries to act casual, stuffing the floppy disk behind her back. “Oh. Uh. Hey,” she stammers, her tone awkward but defensive. “What are you doing up?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” you reply simply, glancing at the floppy disk she’s failing to hide. “What about you? Midnight scheming?”

Her screen narrows into an unimpressed glare. “Bite me,” she snaps, holding the disk up as if daring you to ask more questions. “It’s called strategy, okay? Not that you’d get it.”

You raise your hands in mock surrender, fighting back a smirk. “Fair enough. I didn’t see anything, I swear.”

“Good,” she huffs, stepping around you with a purposeful stride. “You’d better not rat me out, or I swear—”

“Relax,” you cut her off, chuckling softly. “I’m not about to ruin your master plan. You do… whatever it is you’re doing. Just don’t blow anything up, okay?”

She glances back, her screen narrowing again in mock suspicion. “No promises,” she says with a smirk before continuing down the hall, railgun slung over her shoulder and floppy disk in hand.

You watch her disappear around the corner, shaking your head with a mix of amusement and exasperation. “Classic Uzi,” you mutter to yourself as you continue walking, trying once again to distract yourself from the lingering unease in your chest.

The hum of the fluorescent lights greets you as you step into the empty lunchroom. It’s quiet—eerily so—save for the faint hum of machinery somewhere in the distance. The tables and chairs are neatly arranged, a stark contrast to the cluttered chaos of the workshop or the rest of the bunker’s corridors.

You make your way to the small kitchenette, your footsteps echoing faintly. Grabbing a clean mug, you pour yourself a cup of hot oil from the dispenser, the rich, familiar scent filling the air. The warmth of the cup seeps into your hands as you take it to your usual spot near the corner, away from the center of the room.

Sitting down, you lean back in the chair and let out a long sigh. For a few moments, you just sit there, staring into the swirling surface of the oil. The nightmare still lingers in your mind, vivid and unsettling. The drone’s distorted face, that unsettling smile, and her chilling words—all of it feels burned into your thoughts.

"Your time has almost come."

You shake your head, taking a sip of the oil. The warmth helps, but not by much. The pain in your chest has mostly subsided, but the memory of it feels more real than you’d like to admit. Why now? Why after all these months of pushing it to the back of your mind did it feel so immediate, so present?

The symbols, the voices, that drone… none of it made sense. Yet it all felt so deliberate, like you were being pulled toward something you couldn’t understand.

You sigh again, resting your head on your hand. “What the hell is wrong with me?” you mutter under your breath, swirling the mug in your hands.

The lunchroom remains quiet, save for the faint ticking of the clock on the wall. It’s peaceful in its own way, the stillness giving you a moment to gather your thoughts. You don’t know how long you sit there, but the tension in your shoulders begins to ease, your breathing slowing as you focus on the steady rhythm of your heartbeat.

For now, you let yourself be. The questions, the fear, and the confusion can wait. For just a little while longer, you allow yourself this moment of calm.

You sit there for a few minutes longer, savoring the rare, quiet peace. The nightmare still lingers at the edges of your mind, but for the first time in hours, the swirling thoughts seem to quiet. You take another sip of oil, letting the warmth settle into your core.

“Maybe everything’s gonna be okay after all,” you murmur to yourself, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at your lips.

And then, as if the universe itself heard your words and decided to mock you, the lights suddenly shift to an ominous red, bathing the room in a harsh, pulsing glow. A deafening alarm blares through the speakers, echoing throughout the bunker with an urgency that makes your mug rattle on the table.

You freeze, staring at the red-lit walls as the alarm continues to wail.

"...Of course."

[sensualnoiree]

astro notes: balancing elements for optimal well-being

In the intricate tapestry of astrological understanding, the concept of every sign being your tool can be enlightening. It's a realization that within each of us, the celestial alignment at our birth contributes distinct traits and predispositions, yet these elements can sometimes tip out of balance. Much like a well-stocked toolbox, astrology offers an array of therapeutic approaches derived from signs, planets, and elements to restore equilibrium.

Understanding the interplay between elements, signs, and planets forms the foundation of utilizing diverse healing tools aligned with specific astrological influences. Elemental balance is pivotal; an excess or deficiency in any element can manifest in physical or emotional symptoms. For instance, an overabundance of water might contribute to gut issues or melancholy.

Astrologically, elements influence and regulate each other. Fire fuels and controls air, while earth grounds and regulates water. To restore elemental equilibrium within the body, employing opposing or complementary elements becomes crucial. This metaphorical perspective translates into tangible practices: stoking fire when feeling sluggish, airing out excess air when feeling scattered, grounding earth when feeling unmoored, or calming overflowing water when faced with emotional turbulence.

Moreover, delving deeper into zodiac signs unveils their relationships and synergies. Sign pairs situated opposite each other in the birth chart, known as polarities or sister signs, possess complementary energies. Collaborating rather than fluctuating like a seesaw enhances their effectiveness. Aries finds harmony with Libra, Taurus aligns with Scorpio, and so forth.

These sign relationships extend beyond mere symbols; they resonate within the human body. Disruptions in the harmonious functioning of complementary signs can lead to health imbalances. Remedies lie within understanding these connections; employing Scorpio's tools to alleviate Taurus-related issues or tapping into Aries' nutritional suggestions to aid a Libra's blood sugar instability.

The dynamic cosmic movements, such as planets traversing through different signs, exert influences that extend across the astrological spectrum. For instance, if planets in Capricorn affect your Cancer moon, exploring Capricorn's astrological insights might refine your self-care regimen.

A structured approach to employing astrological insights involves asking pertinent questions. Is the remedy hot, cold, wet, or dry? Which signs or planets exhibit these qualities? Which body functions does it target, and which signs or planets govern them? Understanding how remedies resonate with elemental qualities, signs, and planetary influences enhances their efficacy.

In essence, delving into astrological health reveals a wealth of knowledge beyond the conventional. It empowers individuals to utilize diverse astrological tools for holistic well-being. As above, so below—a symphony of cosmic energies orchestrates the dance of life, and within its rhythm lies the key to harmonious existence.

𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘪𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘢 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘪𝘦𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘱𝘪𝘤. 𝘐𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘢𝘭 𝘰𝘣𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘶𝘵! 𝘔𝘺 𝘢𝘴𝘬 𝘣𝘰𝘹 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘯!

𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘥𝘢𝘺 🤸🏿‍♀️

For more info follow me here! 🤸🏿‍♀️

[dreamrefuge]

Finally, I started playing this game (∩˃o˂∩)♡

It's part of my childhood since I played and I'm a huge fan of Harvest Moon: Back to Nature. I've always wanted to play as a girl and it's happening now (╥﹏╥)

Some of the starting pictures I wanted to share ꒰ᐢ. ̫ .ᐢ꒱

First, we have the intro and then pictures about the past (which are very similar to the original FoMT/BTN). Aaand, I'm very excited we can change our costumes now. This is a great improvement for the original series ˙ᵕ˙

The new animals are nice! Look at the pink cow ꒰✿´ ꒳ ` ꒱♡

The Harvest Sprites are back (੭˃ᴗ˂)੭

The landscapes are beautiful (..◜ᴗ◝..)

In the last, we have 3 of the bachelors and bachelorettes. Popuri was my character's wife in BTN, Ran (previously known as Ann) was my character's crush in BTN but Cliff took her away (｡•́︿•̀｡), and, ironically, Cliff is my character's future husband (つ≧▽≦)'

Their visuals are different, but I think they got pretty cool! Ann is more girly, and Popuri got prettier with her pink hair (is that possible?)

Anyway, I'm enjoying the game and it gives me the school days nostalgia. I think some things are easier, but the one I really appreciated was the bell for calling the animals. The songs are similar to the original ones, but a little bit modernized. Talking about the map, it seems bigger and optimized. Oh, I loved the toolbox outside of the house, it helps a lot!

[simxess]

Life After Christmas

Life with Duke and Ava after Christmas was starting to feel like a fresh chapter. Despite the tumultuous months behind them, things seemed to be slowly falling into place. Although Duke is not officially back home, he comes over frequently, creating a mix of relief and cautious optimism to their household.

Duke had taken a break from the league, giving him an unexpected but welcome chance to focus on his family. Brandon, for one, couldn’t be happier. The weekend visits had been nice while they lasted, but they never felt like enough. Now, with Duke unofficially home full-time, the two were making up for lost time. Whether it was shooting hoops or building epic pillow forts in the living room, their bond was flourishing in a way Ava hadn’t seen in years.

With Duke and Brandon so wrapped up in their adventures, Ava was finally able to spend more uninterrupted time with baby Khloe. Ms. Nancy, their ever-reliable nanny, was thrilled to take a much-needed vacation, leaving Ava to cherish these moments on her own. It reminded her of the early days—before life got so complicated.

Duke had also surprised Ava by stepping up in ways she didn’t expect. When he noticed a leaky faucet in the kitchen, he didn’t wait for her to call a plumber; he grabbed his toolbox and got to work. When dinner was over, instead of leaving his plate on the table as usual, he rolled up his sleeves and helped with the dishes. Ava couldn’t help but chuckle to herself, realizing she couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen him do that.

The best part, though, was the time Duke and Ava were spending together. They’d started playing board games and going to the arcade like they used to in college.

But it wasn’t all perfect. They hadn’t yet addressed the elephant in the room: Duke’s lingering connection to Ivy. The hurt and mistrust from his past infidelity were still there, a quiet undercurrent beneath their newfound joy. Yet for the first time in a long time, Ava felt hope. They were talking, laughing, rebuilding—not just their relationship but the foundation of their family.

Could this really be it? Was their past finally behind them? Ava wasn’t sure yet but she allowed herself to believe it might be. One day at a time, she thought. One step closer to healing.

[04k96]

Operating systems as parents

Apple’s UI does feel like soft parenting—protective, smooth, gentle nudges, fewer choices but carefully curated ones, all designed to create a “safe” and aesthetically consistent environment.

Windows would be like a well-meaning but inconsistent parent who gives you freedom… but also leaves sharp tools lying around. It says, “You can do almost anything, but if you break it, you fix it.” There’s structure, but it can feel dated or overly corporate—think PTA dad energy. It wants to be flexible but often sacrifices elegance or simplicity.

Android might be the DIY, slightly chaotic co-parent who hands you a toolbox and says, “Customize your life, kid.” You can build your own routines, mess with the settings, change your identity entirely—but that freedom comes with a learning curve. At its best, it’s empowering. At its worst, it’s overwhelming or poorly optimized.

So maybe:

Apple: Soft, consistent, emotionally intelligent parent

Windows: Traditional, utility-first parent with weekend tech projects

Android: Experimental, libertarian tinkerer parent who’s always flashing ROMs

Apple:

• Cognitive impact: Streamlined choices, smooth transitions, and consistent design reduce decision fatigue. Over time, this can reinforce a preference for clarity, minimalism, and control.

• Emotional tone: You feel taken care of. This can create a sense of calm—or dependence. You may get used to not troubleshooting or customizing much, which can subtly encourage a more passive relationship to tech.

• Behavioral outcome: You focus more on consuming and creating within constraints. It’s a “creative garden”—freedom, but fenced in.

Windows:

• Cognitive impact: You learn to navigate complexity and inconsistency. There’s more friction, which builds tolerance for mess—but also leads to a higher cognitive load.

• Emotional tone: It can be neutral, utilitarian, or frustrating. You’re in charge, but the system assumes you know what you’re doing, which can be empowering or isolating.

• Behavioral outcome: You might develop a problem-solving mindset but also become desensitized to clutter or glitches.

Android:

• Cognitive impact: Encourages exploration, customization, and experimentation. You engage more actively with the system, but that also means a greater mental burden.

• Emotional tone: Feels open and free, but can cause anxiety from too many options or poor optimization (especially on cheaper devices).

• Behavioral outcome: You lean toward self-direction, hacking, or optimizing. There’s pride in personalization, but also the risk of never settling on “enough.”

[markerexposed]

"There's no warrant anymore if you take the whole thing apart." (from Viktor) // @niratias / meme

🔧 — "I know", Isaac replies, fully focused, as he continues taking the newly acquired device apart with a screwdriver. Clearly he could care less about warrants -> hey, it's another reason why he doesn't want people to gift him new, expensive things when he goes to adjust them anyway.

"I need to change out some of the valves and flaps to optimize its output. And since we can't really do this the official way right now, we have to go the not-so-warrant-friendly way about it. Good old 'DIY'. Mind giving me the wrench from the toolbox next to you?"