#The Re-Entry Minimization

[wondroustailsofffxiv]

There is a re-occurring quest of sorts in Final Fantasy XIV called ‘Wondrous Tails’, and it is given to you in Idyllshire by a young Miqo’te named Khloe Aliapoh. Specifically, she gives you an empty journal and asks you to write down the stories of your past and future adventures so that she can share them with everyone she meets!

By re-completing past content, you can earn stickers in order to make lines across a card in a style similar to bingo, with each finished line netting all sorts of prizes once the journal is turned in. In much the same way, ‘Wondrous Tails of FFXIV’ is a multi-month event that utilizes a prompt-filled bingo card format in order to encourage participants to tell the stories in an environment with minimal restrictions and maximum possibilities.

This event is open to both visual and written media, and anyone that participates with at least one valid entry is entered for a raffle that takes place after the end of the event. However, participants do not need to worry about raffle entries or its few restrictions if all they'd like to do is take part and have fun!

> The next iteration of Wondrous Tails of FFXIV will start on March 15th and end on June 15th! <

For more information about the event, start/end dates and whatnot, please check out the links found below!

About | FAQ | Rules | Bingo Card Template | AO3 | Carrd | Picker Wheel Links

[yourfavoritewitchbitch]

It's Called Murder, Baby!

A Scream x Stranger Things AU

Part III

Masterlist

This work will contain elements of violent themes (depictions of crime scenes, murders, etc) and smut. This is a slasher fic!

Synopsis: A string of gruesome murders takes a toll on the small town of Hawkins. Friends and family start looking like suspects making it hard to trust those who you are closest to.

Chapter Summary: Another murder leads to revisiting the past leaving Steve and Jim with more questions.

18+ Only! MDNI!

Warnings: Minimal use of Y/N. AFAB!Reader. Graphic character deaths/murders - depictions of how they were found after the murder. A little bit of angst. No smut in this chapter!

Word Count: 5K

The station had gotten the frantic call from Chase’s girlfriend, barely making out her words over the high-pitched wails and sobs. Quite a shock to the system when the man who was supposed to pick her up for a date hadn’t shown up but was instead sitting in a puddle of his own blood when she found him.

She'd gone over to check in and likely give him a piece of her mind, only to find the lifeless body sprawled out on the kitchen floor.

Steve was the first on scene meeting said girlfriend at the front stoop. She was inconsolable at that point. He sat her in the front of the cruiser doing his best to calm her down before he made his way into the house, gun drawn and ready for anything.

The site of fresh blood and viscera strewn about haphazardly was becoming second nature now with three murders in the span of 48 hours.

The place was a bloodbath, but it looked like Chase had fought. Hard. Glass wear, dishes, anything you could picture from a kitchen cupboard was on the floor. From the looks of the blood splatter, it started by the back door, into the dining room and ultimately ending in the kitchen. The door had been busted in, forced entry.

He was slashed about a dozen different ways. Mostly superficial, the exact cause of death was a stab directly through the heart. Which was confirmed by the medical examiner the next day.

Chase was one of Jason's goons in high school and a real piece of shit. It wasn't surprising someone had an ax to grind with the hothead. Even in his older age the man never outgrew that temper.

By the time he cleared the house and re-looked at the crime scene, Hopper and Callahan had arrived with the paramedics for his girlfriend.

Steve set up the boundary with the caution tape and started directing traffic when the medical examiner finally rolled in to take the body.

There wasn’t much traffic out. People were on edge, rightly so. Staying behind the safety of locked doors that now seemed it wouldn't afford them much comfort.

He looked up in time to see a familiar van pulling down the street and slowing down enough that you caught his eye through the window. Of course, you wouldn’t listen to him and get home that evening, even with everything going on.

He shook his head and quickly looked away, mentally making a note to scold you first thing in the morning.

🔪

“Goddamnit,” Hopper forced out through gritted teeth. Hunched over his desk looking at the new case file. “Has this town gone insane?”

Steve was pressed right in beside him.

They'd gotten lucky this time. The presumed perpetrator had left a partial boot print, but they were no closer in figuring anything out.

“OK, so we’ve got three murders. All with the same manner of death. And all very similar to the death of Higgins 10 years ago. What the hell are we not seeing?” The older man took another cigarette, lighting it with a sigh. He took his seat, as Steve circled the desk looking at everything laid out before them.

There was no denying the similarities. Forced entry, the same type of murder weapon. The only difference is that Higgins was put on display after being moved from his home to the football field, like some kind of trophy. They wanted him to be seen.

“Why would someone go to all this trouble to be a copycat?” Steve pondered out loud. “Hop, what if…” Trailing off because he knew this would send him over the edge.

“What if? Spit it out, Harrington.” His patience was wearing thin.

“What if the wrong man is behind bars?” He met Jim's unamused glare. They'd both been implemental in putting away Henry Creel. These were strong accusations, even for just the two of them to be talking in private.

“Kid, watch it. We can't be speculating on that right now. You and I both know how much shit this would cause if we go down that road. That's something that can't be put back in the box once it's opened.” He sighed heavily before taking another drag.

“Steve, you helped with that case. It's what drew you to law enforcement but, I can't deny the fact that it's all too similar to ignore. Do you remember anything else back then? Anyone that had a grudge against Higgins? Against any of these kids? Anything to help us out?”

March 1986

The days leading up to his murder were like any other. Kids barreling down the halls, unruly jocks picking on those that they deemed nerds or outsiders. But Ronald Higgins always has his eye out for your boyfriend, Eddie. It’s as if he always had a bone to pick with him.

After first period ended, you were at your locker waiting for Eddie. Lost in thought and busy gathering your books when you felt someone grab your hips from behind.

You jumped with a squeak and quickly spun around, dropping everything you were holding in the process.

“Shit, sorry Y/N.” Steve laughed, bending down to help pick up your belongings.

“Steve, what the hell?” you hissed. “Why would you do that?”

“Sorry, I didn’t think you’d drop your shit like that.” He chuckled, placing the rest in your waiting arms, as you both stood up. “I guess I really didn’t think that one through.”

“It’s ok Stevie.” You beamed up at him, as he gave you his own crooked grin.

He leaned against the lockers as you turned back to rummage through yours.

“You, okay?” he asked, genuinely concerned, as he watched you.

“Of course, why wouldn’t I be?” giving him your full attention, eyebrows knit with confusion.

Steve, your best friend since grade school, always worried about your wellbeing. Even while donning the crown during his “King Steve” era he always kept a close eye on you, much to Eddie’s dismay.

Your boyfriend could be very jealous, especially given your history. You and Steve were close. So close you two idiots took each other’s virginity just to see what all the hype was about, sophomore year. It was an uncomfortable first time to say the least but being friends made it easier.

You continued to see each other in secret until he started dating some cheerleader, throwing him in with the popular crowd and ultimately earning him that title but he never strayed far.

“Just making sure, if you ever need company if Ed isn’t home, you know you can come hang out with me.” He gave your shoulder a quick squeeze for reassurance.

“Well, don’t be shocked when I take you up on that offer.” You grinned at each other; his boyish smile always warmed your heart.

“Harrington,” a loud voice echoed down the hall. You both snapped your heads toward them.

“Hargrove,” he mumbled, moving to stand in front of you.

You watched Billy saunter up, coming close enough to the other boy that their noses almost touched. Hargrove, trying to be intimidating, only making an ass of himself.

“You know Harrington, you’ll never get back on top hanging around whorish trash like this.” Pointing to you over his shoulder, catching his eye just a moment before he looked back to Steve.

“Call her that again and see what happens,” Eddie's voice bellowed from behind you. Not noticing when he had walked up. Both boys seething from his lewd comment.

“The King and the Freak taking up for their slut. Go figure.” He laughed.

Steve suddenly pushed Billy, catching him off guard, as he fell to the ground.

Eddie quickly pulled you to move behind him, shielding you, in case any errant blows came his way.

Before Billy could register what happened, Principal Higgins yelled down the hall.

“Harrington, Hargrove, and of course, Mr. Munson. Why am I not surprised?” placing his hands on his hips fixing them each with a glare. “My office! NOW!”

Higgins was a short, plump man. Balding and wore thick glasses. He commanded authority around Hawkins High because outside of these walls he was nothing. An aging old coot who liked nothing better than to harass teenagers all day.

“Principal Higgins,” you spoke up. “Eddie didn't even do anything, and Steve was just protecting me. Billy started this whole thing.”

His eyes cut to you, with a sharp glare.

“Thank you, Ms. Y/L/N, but if I wanted your input, I would have asked for it. Now run along.” He motioned his hand, shooing you away.

“Boys, follow me.” He turned on his heel. Billy quickly rose and followed. Steve sent you a sly smirk and Eddie winked at you mouthing “that's my girl” before scurrying to catch up.

Finding yourself in between Eddie and Steve at lunch, they gave you the rundown. Both of them on the receiving end of after school detention the rest of the week, as did Billy.

“Well, that's total bullshit.” raising your voice.

“Sweetheart, don't worry yourself.” Eddie cooed. “I'm used to it.” Taking your hand, pulling it in and placing a soft kiss against your knuckles.

“Well, it still doesn't make it right. For either of you.” You glanced over to Steve, who was forking at his mashed potatoes.

“It's fine, Billy was out of line. We'd both take detention for you any day, right Munson?” He looked at Eddie expectantly.

“Of course,” Eddie replied, scooting close and planting a loud kiss on your cheek.

“Hey Freak!” Jason spat across from the three of you, gaining your attention. Most of the jocks didn't bother Steve, since he used to be a part of their crew.

“Heard you got Hargrove in trouble. You better hope this didn't ruin him playing on Friday.” He pointed an accusatory finger right at Eddie.

“Jason, fuck off.” You spoke up, standing across from him. “If anyone's to blame it's Billy.”

He was about to say something else but Eddie and Steve both stood on either side of you. He looked between the three of you and snapped his mouth shut.

“You really wanna go there, Carver?” Steve asked, narrowing his gaze looking down at the other boy.

Jason looked between the two taller boys before ultimately backing down.

“Whatever, not worth it.” He hissed as he walked away.

“Pussy.” You grumbled, causing both boys to chuckle as you all sat to finish your lunch.

“Let's try not to get you two suspended today.” You said, earning another laugh from both.

“Sweetheart, we can do that all on our own.” Eddie said, leaning over to kiss your cheek.

Steve and Eddie walked into the designated classroom for their detention that afternoon, expecting it to be them and Billy. Henry Creel was also in the corner, to himself like any other day.

Henry was a loner, a lost sheep as Eddie would say. Eddie tried to be friendly with most anyone, but he truly had a soft heart for the outcasts. Most people steered clear of Henry because of his nature. He was quiet, and a little unsettling.

Not much surprise to anyone, Billy skipped because he had basketball practice and of course, they let him slide.

They took their seats. Nothing of note happened until it got near the end of the hour.

Henry had been silent this entire time up until the last 5 minutes. He started muttering to himself.

Steve and Eddie looked at each other before slowly turning back to look at him. He was staring out the window, they couldn’t tell what he was saying but he kept repeating it.

“You good back there, bud?” Eddie spoke up, as Steve shot him a sideways glance before looking back to Creel.

Henry’s head snapped toward them. His eyes were dark, cold. Showing no emotion within.

He looked between them, as if he didn’t know who had spoken to him, but he started to get up from his chair.

“I have to go home; he’s going to get what’s coming to him.” He murmured, pulling his jacket tight, crossing his arms over his body as he walked out of the door. Both boys couldn’t pull their eyes away, as the teacher yelled after him to no avail. He was gone.

“What the fuck was that?” Steve finally broke the silence.

“I don’t know, but it didn’t sound like anything good.” Eddie replied.

They were dismissed soon after.

The next morning, Eddie picked you up for school, late as usual. He'd haul ass just to get the first period on time. Yours was journalism, so your teacher didn't mind you being late as long as the paper went out in time.

“Where’d you get off to last night? I came by but Wayne said you hadn’t made it home yet.” You asked, kissing his cheek as you sat down in the passenger seat of his van.

“Hmmm? I just had to do a few things for Rick.” He responded, barely looking at you.

“Eddie, you need to stop selling for him. It’s going to get you into more trouble than it’s worth.” You chided, buckling up as he headed down the road.

“Yeah, I know. Just until graduation, promise.” He grabbed your hand, bringing it to his lips.

As you pulled into the school parking lot, police cruisers were situated at the front of the building. Blue lights blazing, keeping everyone out.

“What the hell’s all this?” you asked out.

Eddie parked beside Steve’s car. He was already out leaning against it watching along with the rest of the student body and faculty.

You rolled down the window as he strolled up to talk to you both.

“What’s going on?” You asked, squinting against the sunlight in your face, trying to see anything out the windows.

“Someone killed Principal Higgins.” He said flatly.

“What? That’s awful.”

“Uh, yeah, apparently they strung him up on the goal post. A couple of guys coming in early for practice found him. Said he was uh… gutted.” He scratched at his brow.

“What the hell?” Your hand shot to your mouth in shock.

Eddie was unusually quiet, taking another smoke from his pack and throwing it back to the dash.

“Hey Ed, you remember how weird Creel was acting yesterday?” Steve asked him.

“Yeah, he got something to do with it?” Taking another draw, letting the smoke curl up and away from his face.

“I don’t know, think we should say something to the police?” He chewed his lip. Eddie didn’t take his eyes from the cruiser the entire time he’d been sitting here.

“I don’t know man. I mean, you can if you wanna. Don’t think I’ll go snitching on him for a little outburst.”

“Yeah, right. It’s just odd timing…” He trailed off, looking back over to the school as the front door swung open.

Chief Deputy Hopper walked out first, followed by the gurney with what was presumably Higgins zipped in the black body bag.

The entire lot was quiet, watching as they loaded him into the van.

As soon as they’d left the faculty made the announcement that school was canceled for the day.

One of the jocks yelled at Steve across the parking lot.

“Yo man, party at your house tonight? We should celebrate!” He laughed.

“Sure, but bring your own damn booze!” Cupping his hands around his mouth so the meathead could hear him.

“Yeah, man! Whatever you say!” Shouting back before he began shouting around the rest of the campus. “Party at Harrington’s tonight!”

“Steve, is that a good idea? I know Higgins was a straight up dick, but a party to celebrate?” You looked up at him, worry working over your features.

“It’s fine. You two are coming though, right?” Looking at you expectantly.

It was Eddie who answered for you. “Of course man, could always use the extra cash.” His hand came to rest on your thigh, squeezing gently. “Right babe? You need to blow off some steam.”

You still had trepidation in the back of your mind, but you nodded. Someone was just killed, and the student body was laughing it off.

“Cool, see ya’ then! Y/N, you gonna come help me get the house ready?” He smiled that crooked grin your way.

“Sure, Stevie. I'd love nothing more than to help you clean your house.” You fondly roll your eyes knowing you'd do it anyway.

True to your word you went over to Steve's about six, still feeling uneasy about the party but shrugged it off.

You'd done this a million times. Coming over to help him set out some snacks and load up the fridge with beers. Breaking into his dad's study for the heavy stuff became second nature. Richard Harrington always turned a blind eye to his son's activities and simply replaced the bottles the next time he came into town.

Instead of lecturing Steve, he'd tell him he needed to quit using the top shelf bottles and use the shit in the lower cabinet. Steve never listened, taking it all.

He bumped your shoulder as you poured some cheese puffs out into a bowl.

“So, you and Eddie are the real deal huh?” he asked, popping one of the puffs into his mouth.

“I'd like to think so. Why, Stevie? Jealous?” You looked up at him through your lashes.

“I mean… I do miss our little flings, but I am happy for you.” You laughed, but he added, “I mean it.”

“I know Steve.” You quickly kissed his cheek before continuing the task at hand.

The party was in full swing by 8 pm. You hadn't heard from Eddie since he dropped you off earlier but that wasn't unusual. He'd roll in with that lunchbox in tow any minute now.

Everyone was having their own conversations and speculations on who could have done it. As it turned out, no one really cared that Higgins was dead. He'd wronged just about everyone at some point.

Steve was unusually quiet. You'd been watching him from your seat on the couch while chatting with Robin the last half hour. He was currently in the corner with some blonde bimbo, thumbing at the label on his beer bottle instead of listening to her.

“Hey, Earth to Y/N!” She snapped her fingers in front of your face, gaining your attention once more.

“Yes, I'm here. What?” Swiping her hand away.

“If you're so worried about him, go talk to him.” She sighed, looking over her shoulder at Steve.

“He just seems off today.” You shrugged, pulling your own beer to your lips for a slow swig.

“He's off every day. He's a dingus.” She got up from her seat. “Want anything?”

“I'm good for now.”

She saluted you and headed toward the kitchen. Your eyes drifted back to where Steve had been. Him and the blonde are nowhere in sight.

You huffed, sitting further into the couch cushion, frowning to yourself.

You hadn't felt him sneak up behind you, until his lips ghosted the shell of your ear as he spoke, sending a shiver down your spine and a smile to your face.

“Why's my Princess pouting over here all by herself?”

You tilted your head back to look at him, as he planted a kiss to your cheek.

“Hey baby. Took you long enough.” You grinned as he walked around the couch plopping down where Robin had been.

“Rick always talks my damn head off.” He placed his arm over your shoulder, scooting in close. “But, I'll ask again, why are you pouting?”

“I don't know. Steve seems off. Just worried about him.” You shrugged and looked up at him.

“Cheer up babe. I think he's fine, he has his tongue shoved down some blonde’s throat down the hall.”

Very typical Steve. He serial dated these days, making his way through new girls eventually getting tired and coming back to complain to you and Robin again.

Eddie began his rounds soon after. He'd clear his lunchbox before the night was through, lining his pocket nicely.

It got late quickly as the night got away from you. In no mood to drink, you only nursed a couple more watching the rest of your friends get absolutely smashed.

Robin had gone home earlier because she didn't feel like getting another lecture from her parents. Eddie was out back smoking with a couple of guys.

“Don't you think we should be able to print it in the paper? It's big news!” Nancy complained from beside you. She and Jonathan finally strolled in only about an hour prior.

“I don't know Nance. It's a school paper, not the post. They try to censor everything we put out anyway.” You shrugged.

“I just feel like it's bullshit!” She huffed, leaning against the wall.

“Nance, have a little compassion. He was murdered. I know you're a hungry, go getter but it's high school. You know they…”

That's when you heard someone yelling down the hall interrupting your train of thought.

“Who's Y/N?! At least when you're trying to fuck me you could get my name right. Fuck off!” she shrieked. You both turned in time to catch that blonde wrench out of his grasp and walk out the front door.

Some people standing around caught the commotion and looked toward you. The insinuation in their glares making your cheeks heat.

He pinched the bridge of his nose before his eyes caught yours through the crowd. You could tell from your spot across the room he was drunk, with his glazed over expression.

He looked away quickly, turning to take his leave up the stairs. Conversations picked back up around you, eventually ignoring you once again.

Your face turned back to Nancy, but she had her head down as if she was experiencing secondhand embarrassment for you.

“Uh, I should go check on him.” You blurted out motioning toward the stairs as she nodded, finally meeting your gaze.

“Sure. Sure.” She waved you off but still gave you a pointed look.

You knew you shouldn't go after him. It would only fuel rumors that were surely going to start up, but your feet were already heading in his direction.

By the time you reached the landing, his door was already closed.

You didn't bother knocking, he was sitting on his bed, hands in his lap, head toward the floor.

“Steve, are you ok?”

“Fine.” He swallowed. “But I guess you heard all that, right?”

“Yeah. I did. But I'm not worried about that right now. What's going on with you, huh? Something's been eating at you all night.” You sat beside him, your skirt riding up as your bare thigh rested by his jean clad one.

“I just keep thinking about what Creel said, and then Higgins… it's… it's just…” he trailed off with a heavy sigh.

“You think he has something to do with it?”

He nodded.

“Well, Eddie can take you. You both could tell Hopper what he said. But for now, how about you get some rest, yeah? Don't worry about the party. I'll find Eddie and we'll tell everyone to get lost.”

He nodded again.

“Okay.” You moved to get up, but he grabbed your wrist pulling you back to the mattress.

“Steve, I…” suddenly cut off when he surged forward, pressing his lips to yours. It caught you off guard, but you didn't immediately pull away.

His lips were soft and warm, matching his sweet demeanor. His tongue darted out, as you pushed his chest and quickly stood up.

“Steve, you're drunk. You need to go to bed.” You kept your voice calm even though your heart was hammering in your chest.

“Sorry, I… I just…” He tried to get out an apology, but you placed your hand on his shoulder.

“It's okay. I forgive you. Just don't let Eddie see you try that.” You giggled as he winced thinking about Eddie.

“Now, let's get you in this nice, cozy bed, yeah?”

“Yeah, ok.” He kicked his sneakers from his feet. You helped him stand, letting you pull the covers back as he pulled his shirt over his head.

You heard his belt clink as he unbuttoned his pants, letting them pool at his feet, leaving him in his boxers.

“Come on, Stevie.” You patted the bed as he laid down and you covered him up.

You waited a few moments, watching his slow and steady breathing. The covers move with each expansion of his chest before reaching over and extinguishing his bedside lamp.

The light from the ensuite bathroom caught your attention because you knew the door had been closed a moment ago.

You jumped and let out a small yelp seeing Eddie standing there in the doorway.

“Don't let Eddie see you try that, huh?” He smirked releasing a small chuckle. Eddie wasn't mad, just amused at the fact you always try to deny how much Steve was still in love with you.

“Fuck Eddie. Have you been in there the whole time?” You grabbed his hand, pulling him back into the bathroom and shutting the door softly behind you as you heard Steve shuffle under the covers.

“Yup. The WHOLE time. Came in here cause I know no one dares to enter King Steve's room, so no lines.” He shrugged.

“You're taking him to the Sheriff's station tomorrow. It's going to eat him alive if you don't.” You hissed out.

“And what if I say no? Henry may not have done anything wrong. Just poor timing.” He grinned, eyes glinting with something you couldn't quite decipher.

“I don't care, Eddie. You both need to tell Hopper.” You crossed your arms over your chest, leaving no room for argument. You wouldn't take no for an answer. He hated when you got all authoritative toward him.

“Fuck, fine. Whatever.” He rolled his eyes. “Can we go before the boy toy wakes up looking for round two?”

You squeeze his cheeks between your palms, placing an over exaggerated kiss to his lips as he wraps his arms around you.

“Thanks baby.” You grinned.

“Mmhmm, anything for you princess.” Kissing the tip of your nose before the two of you exited the room.

After you two had successfully kicked everyone out you both took the spare room. It was better than sleeping in the van until morning like you usually did after a party.

You would be there to make sure Eddie took Steve to the station.

“So, you boys are telling me that Henry Creel said what now?” Hopper was sitting across from Steve and Eddie in his office, examining the two young men before him.

Steve was in a polo and light jacket. Eddie in his usual denim vest and leather. Polar opposites of each other.

“Well,” Steve began again, giving Eddie a sideways glance. “He said he's going to get what's coming to him.”

“And you heard this too, Eddie?” His narrow gaze aimed at the metal head.

“Yeah ma… I mean yes sir.” He nodded in agreement.

“And then he bolted out of there before they dismissed us.” Steve added.

“Yeah.” Eddie followed.

“Ok, and there's nothing else other than that?” He asked.

“No.” Both of the younger men said in unison.

He sighed, getting up from his chair, straightening his belt.

“Okay, thanks boys. We'll look into it.”

They left thinking that nothing would come of it.

Their tip led to Chief Deputy Hopper making the biggest arrest in Hawkins history. Two days later they questioned him and subsequently found a murder weapon stashed in an old shed behind his house.

Both Steve and Eddie's testimonies helped cement the case against him.

Ultimately, he was deemed not mentally capable to withstand trial and was sent to Pennhurst before it could begin.

Hawkins had seen its worst murder and the person behind it was caught. It was once again a sleepy little town. Until now.

Had the real killer laid dormant all these years? Why resurface now?

Looking back, Steve could tell Hopper that any number of people had a problem with Higgins and Jason's crew. Including himself and Eddie, even you.

He thought it was best to keep his mouth shut, hoping they could find a real lead soon.

“No, Hop. I can't think of anything.”

It would be two weeks before another murder took place giving everyone a small sense of false security.

Andy Crawford was next. Yet another that ran in that circle of friends with Jason. Same manner of death. Forced entry and far too much blood.

There was a definite pattern at this point. They just couldn't figure out who might be next.

With little to go on, save for that mask and half of a boot print they were at a loss and the whole town was quaking with fear.

Another late night at the post. Your eyes were going cross eyed from reading and typing all day.

You checked your watch. Almost 11 pm. You hated to call Eddie this late, knowing he most likely already nodded off on the couch.

You leaned back in your chair, stretching aching back muscles from being leaned over for so long when your phone rang, making you jump.

Your fingers hesitantly gripped the receiver, lifting it to your ear.

“Hello, Hawkins Post.” Coming out a little breathless.

“Hello?” A gruff voice came from the other end. “Who am I talking to?”

“This is Y/N. Can I… help you?” Feeling a little uneasy.

“Oh, Y/N. The same Y/N that writes those articles for Ghostface?” He asked with a slightly cheerier lilt.

“Yes, is there something I can help you with?” That feeling growing in the pit of your stomach.

“Big fan. Huge even.” The voice chuckled.

“That's nice, but it's late. Unless there's something I can do for you…”

“Sure, there's something you can do for me.” He growled. “Stay right there and play the helpless victim for me!”

Taglist: @barbedwirebats @kellsck @lemme-slytherin-that-dick @katie-tibo @eddiesguitarskills

[beesmygod]

What are some of your favorite pieces of art/ art that has made you think a lot?

this is such a cheesy cop-out answer, but there's a lot of things that im going to struggle remembering because of 1. how situational the experience was (as in, the context in which i experienced the piece) 2. how wide the word "art piece" is. 3. the great fortune to have been born to parents with strong artistic sensibilities and a love of travel/education. so these are like. really weird and specific but maybe thats the way it should be:

let's start with the most overly dramatic: st. paul's cathedral in london has guided tours where they take you into rooms and let you mill around before moving to the next one. my family took a trip overseas as a really, really big special vacation to celebrate my sister and i graduating from high school (we're not twins, we just combo'd it after she graduated) that i was too brain-broken and teenage to fully appreciate. its a beautiful cathedral but i was in my edgy internet atheist stage and refused to be impressed by it until i stood over a grate in the floor. through the grates you can see the crypt that you visit next. but standing over the grate, someone below started to sing something hymnal and very catholic. and i realized i was the only one who could hear it because of the crowd chatter. and it made me feel, in the moment, so special and so lonely in a way that i still think about, a lot. it was for me only. divine providence.

a date with adam to a place i had no idea existed but he had been to before: the bad art museum, which is split over like 3 different buildings in a bizarre way. we only went to the one where you have to buy a ticket to a movie as entry and it was some truly lovely bad art and made me sad how inaccessible it was but resolute about my love of the nuances of uncelebrated anti-art masterpieces. then we watched "assassination nation" and it was fucking terrible. great date.

reading the theory regarding the "venus of willendorf" being a self portrait as a 20-something year old and running into the bathroom to take my clothes off and look down at myself and having my mind blown. not just by how much i instantly understood it, but because of the tugging feeling on my heart when i feel that strand of history connecting women artists driven by that unknown compulsion to create for creations sake!

similarly, seeing artemisia gentileschi's work next to her fathers and realizing how much she outclassed him in every single way and feeling the tugging feeling again, but this time with a dark woe of realization of how history minimizes achievement and talent when it eases a narrative

reading jane erye's descriptions of herself and her approaches to her plights and for the first time feeling like someone had walked a path that i currently found myself lost on.

reading 1984 as a middle schooler and becoming so angry at the ending i threw the book across the room (something i had never done before and never did again in my life) and stormed out of my room to complain to my mom lol. IT REALLY UPSET ME!!!

reading les miserables for the first time and weeping piteously for days after the ending and having it impact my brain so hard it re-wired how i think about the concept of "legacy" and what it means to matter in the world and how love is nothing without the courage to stand up for it. and that mercy should, and will, always supersede unwavering justice (hard lesson to remember, maybe im due for a re-read)

sneaking into my parents room to read the books i wasnt supposed to yet as a really little kid lol. my mom used to get "dykes to watch out for" in a newsletter she was subscribed to! but i didnt read those bc they were dumb relationship comics for grown-ups. i wanted to read about opus the penguin and lee iacocca, as if i knew who that was. my mother's comic collection was the single most influential constant in my life. knowing that i was exposed to bill watterson's commentary about his own work via the big collections my mom owned probably explains a lot about what's wrong with me. but she also had a lot of berke breathed before he fully wussed out

the general experience of playing a video game that you arent supposed to/when you arent supposed to is probably one of the most freeing means of meaningless rebellion as a kid that everyone should experience. i used to be up playing pokemon past my bedtime under my covers with a huge heavy rubber flashlight i stole from the kitchen and had to replace every morning without getting caught once i was done with it. god, the days before backlit screens we had to get really fucking wild with it. in high school i would wake up at 5:00am, sneak into the computer room where the ps2 was and play an hour of FFX bc its the longest fucking non-persona game in the world, stop playing before my mom woke up at 6:00am and sneak back into bed. if i hit a part where i couldnt save i would just turn the screen off and come back to it tomorrow lol. secrets......

reading the "pictures for sad children" arc about paul, who is a ghost, finally losing it and going on a rant about how it has never mattered how thin a computer screen is. they were right and reading it helped me articulate and understand a growing feeling of restless frustration at the world around me that i felt singular and alone in. im glad that last i heard that artist is doing ok. i hope they recognize the incredible value in their work as imperfect as they perceived it to be. i do not think they would be happy to know that their old work was impactful, but i hope they realize that what people are able to tease out of their work is meaningful, at least to me it is. ill transcribe the comic rather than repost it i think: paul [while smashing electronics]: "have i told you about [bam] how nerds destroy the world take conspicuous consumption as a lifestyle choice and combine it with early hardware adoption and you have great swaths of gadgetry out of stock because they're incrementally better than the last model and there are landfills full of functioning electronics wasted time, resources, money, etc. the best part is that these things were never necessary it has never mattered how thing a computer is." [smash]

this is too long. i like art.

[vickyvicarious]

"Then write now, my young friend," he said, laying a heavy hand on my shoulder:

Dracula touching Jonathan count: 7

I actually missed one last time. Here we have by day...

May 5: 'helping him' from the coach, then from the caleche, shaking his hand at the door, touching his hand during dinner.

May 7: took his arm to bring him to dinner.

May 8: came up behind him and put a hand on his shoulder while he was shaving, lunged to grab his throat (not officially counting this one but it deserves a mention)

Jonathan mentions Dracula's hands so often, and it's clear why. He's scared of the strength they have, and of the prospect of that strength being turned against him instead of just his belongings and the surroundings: ("and opening the heavy window with one wrench of his terrible hand, he flung out the glass," and "He grew excited as he spoke,[...] grasping anything on which he laid his hands as though he would crush it by main strength." both from May 8). He's emphasized their horrible strength/painful grip from the very beginning, as well as how cold they are, the hairy palms and long fingernails, the instinctive repulsion they evoke in him (all from May 5).

I can't help but notice that after the one time Dracula tried to touch Jonathan's hands/bare skin and Jonathan shuddered, Dracula hasn't touched him that way again. But he is regularly still touching his body - his arm, his shoulders - in ways that it's not up to Jonathan to reciprocate/that he can't so easily draw away from. He touches him a lot, at least once per entry since they have met. Who knows if there are more that haven't been mentioned. Maybe Dracula takes Jonathan's arm to lead him in to dinner every night now, etc. Regardless, it's super creepy and is a constant insidious little threat. Jonathan can't just tell him "don't touch me" without being rude (and he's trying very hard not to openly defy/offend his 'host' for fear of what the Count would do), and he has no ability to enforce keeping Dracula away if he did try to physically stop him, so the best he can do is minimize such interactions as subtly as possible. And I'm sure Dracula knows all of this and is enjoying the way he can feel Jonathan flinch every time.

I gotta give my props to @re-dracula once again, because the way this line was read really struck me:

In any case I could not mistake the hands which I had had so many opportunities of studying. 

Jonathan sounds so bitter about the 'hands', obviously he hates them (all of Dracula but those especially) and it made me think again about just how many unwanted 'opportunities of studying' them Jonathan's had.

[iatrophilosophos]

Hey, do you have any info or tips on diy medicine? I've always been interested but haven't found much success

Medicine is just problem solving. IME it's important to take nothing for granted and get as granular as possible with what you're trying to achieve, because that opens more doors.

Re: that point, diy med is being a medical researcher. Very rarely is work done for you, so there's a lot of fucking around and finding out--how much risk you chose to take is up to you in experimenting; but I'm pretty gung ho and I can still count on one hand the number of times I've tried something that carried more risk than over-the-counter acetaminophen.

Read voraciously--coming from someone who can only get thru about three books a year. It's fucking hard but it is so beyond worth it to work at it, however much you can. Read until you know enough to have questions and then read to find the answer to those questions and/or figure out how to determine an answer for yourself.

Bad sources can be just as educational as good ones--western medicine has a bunch of fuckshit in it and having strong, grounded analysis of why you think an approach, treatment, whatever is bullshit will help you in finding something better.

Anecdotal evidence is useful as FUCK. Western medical practice is regulated formally and informally by legal anxiety and profit motives (ergo an unwillingness to produce anything under a certain statistical bar of effectiveness) but for a LOT of anecdotal home remedies and experimental treatments, risk factors are p minimal and if you feel comfortable trying it based on a realistic risk assessment...you can just try it, lol.

I really want to stress that diy med doesn't just have to be about trying to get a sub-par approximation of western med. Sometimes what we can do for ourselves is limited or less effective, sure--but we are also capable of doing better. There's pros and cons, right, but autonomous medicine gives the opportunity to try something that a doctor never would--sometimes because of risk, but more usually it's about legal anxiety and state restrictions. I remember hearing someone I knew who worked in drug development talk about how stupid it was that their team was having to reinvent the wheel instead of using THC in a drug; even though there exists documentation that THC has the property they were after, their program got federal funding so no marijuana.

Personally my entry point was herbalism and it's not a bad route to go. It can do a LOT, it's very accessible, and unlike a lot of medicine it's less gatekept & there's a significant population of writers creating resources specifically for laypeople with a focus on autonomy and self practice; plus rad community spaces exist and ofc like any scene they're full of bullshit (transmisogyny and gender essentialism in lefty alt health is a huge current, unfortunately), but they can be a good place to like. Network until you actually find the other ppl on the fringes of the scene who you might actually click with. An herbal background also gives you a LOT of directional freedom--lots of sources will combine western medical information on top of traditional and anecdotal practices, which cumulates in a lot of lenses you can apply to try to solve a problem; plus a lot of drugs are or can be plant-derived and having a skillset to identify/grow, harvest and process plants is really useful even if western medicine is the primary lens you want to use (tbh ur basic herbal preparations are often the first step in more exact drug isolation procedures). It's also just essential imo to have more than a western medical perspective--take time to read less immediately practical texts about medical history, other medical systems, and other conceptualizations of illness and the human body. One of my hotter takes? Miasma theory is still relevant and useful. There's a lot of fuckshit everywhere, both within and outside of western medicine--treat no source as authoritative and every claim as a thought experiment! But seriously, take the time to see what's out there. Accumulate as much raw information as possible to build your toolkit.

Some herbal resources I like for beginners (all books on LibGen.is)

Rjwhelan.co.nz -- aoteroa based medical herbalist who presents a really wide range of info from historical/traditional to western scientific. He's got some interesting (read: bad) takes but is a solid writer and information aggregator.

The herbal medicine makers handbook by James green -- good intro to herbal preparation with a range of procedures from simple folk methods to more measurement and chemistry heavy. Also got some weird opinions. That's just kinda how it be.

Wild remedies by rosalee de foret and Emily han -- cute basic introduction to herbalism

The psychopharmacology of herbal medicines by Marcello spinella -- says it right on the tin. useful reference.

The Earthwise herbal (vol 1 and vol 2) by Matthew wood -- listen. I fucking hate this man. I kind of hate these books (organized alphabetically by latin name...come the fuck on) BUT. It is still a pretty ok reference book with a similar approach to Richard Whelan's work and it has herbs that I've had trouble finding in other texts.

On working with others and sharing information: it's important to not play doctor. I strongly encourage folks to help out other people, but in an assistive capscity--not a prescriptive one. Share your sources, explain your opinions! The goal is to offer as much information as possible for someone else to make their own decisions. If you're in the US, this is a pretty good rundown of the legal positionality of herbalists (/health consultants generally) but I strongly advocate for going further than the law in this case on ideological autonomy-focused grounds.

Finally: medicine is not a solitary undertaking. Having a group of friends or even just acquaintances with different needs, priorities and viewpoints will get you much further in a few months than you could on your own in years. And it's slow going at first. It really is. You'll fuck up, you'll go around believing something for years to suddenly realize it's bullshit, you will grow and change. But you'll get there.

[stingandsnoutbindery]

Advent Anthology by @pacific-rimbaud

A Compilation of PR's one-shot entries for DHr Advent, years 2020-2022.

Fandom: Harry Potter

Relationship: Draco Malfoy x Hermione Granger

Art by the wonderful @chestercompany

My binderary baby and second fanbinding project.

read below the cut for the process and other binding deets.

Quick Specs

20,015 words | 179 pages | Quarto (1/4 of Letter)

Technique: Flatback bradel Title & Body Font: Libre Baskerville (in various style emphasis)

Fics included:

Les Pelerins (10k; 2020 entry)

I'm Never Lonely When I'm With You (5k; 2021 entry)

On The Virtues of Inexhaustible Burning (5k; 2022 entry)

Pac is the type I could trust to write anything and I know I'll absolutely love. Her advent fics, in particular, I especially adore. The writing is very visceral and I will not admit how many times I've reread these.

On The Book

I had not intended to bind any book/s for @renegadepublishing's binderary because of my hectic schedule, however FOMO won over and this book was born. It was a relatively quick design and typeset (I really do better under pressure lol). I wish I could say the same for when I started the actual binding though. This is the 8th book I’ve bound and I had expected it to go relatively smoothly, but this book fought me every step of the way and I'll indulge in expressing my distress on this post.

First, the print place I go to messed up my typeset, thus me having to travel back home to use our old crappy inkjet (that took 3 hours to print). And because said printer is crappy, I had to use 100gsm short grain to minimize show-through, and well, you can imagine how stick straight the pages are. Second, I made the case too small (I worked on the book after a toxic 12 hour lab day and was not in the right state) and instead of redoing the covers, I re-trimmed and repainted the fore edge (at cost of my lovely margins ..wails). Third & last, the vinyl refused! to stick to the cover and I proper burnt the HTV as well as my finger on my iron. In the book's defense, it was my first time using leather paper and I forgot to test their chemistry.

On The Bind

Everything else went swimmingly, aforementioned shit aside. I tried not to make this book scream Christmas and leaned into a more subtle theme through color choices. I finally got to use this lovely red leather paper from Itoya, which my parents bought me during their trip in Japan. Many thanks to @celestial-sphere-press for helping me out with the shops to visit!

The design cover was made on Illustrator. The words are actually the fic prompts which I arranged in concentric circles, inspired by the arrangement of the advent candles in our local church from years back. I have no idea what paper my print place used, but it has some nice pulp to it.

As I said, I melted the HTV and certain parts refused to stick, so I peeled all of it off, except for the spine title (which miraculously stuck) and used my foil quill pen instead. I used an off-brand one and it's really good!

I also did this sort of strip across the edge which I learned is called a "river" as Nic @bindsbymunchkin called it. The side near the spine though, looked asymmetrically empty, so I added the foiling. And as this is an anthology, the punctuations was a design choice to convey the start and end and pauses in-between stories (and mostly because they just look fancy lol).

Like my last bind, the edges are gold which is comprised of an undercoat of diluted dark gray Sakura acrylic paint and many layers of Liquitex iridescent gold acrylic ink.

Endbands are made with alternating colors of cream, gray, and gold DMC cotton threads, however I'm learning I don't very much like how sewn endbands look on small flatbacks.

The endpapers are my fave. I had already tipped in plain cream cardstock but then I was like: this book needs MARBLED PAPER! so I ripped off the one I had stuck and replaced it. It's actually not real marbled paper HAHA. I sourced it from this site, printed it on some heavy paper, and oh my god I believe the universe really meant for me to find this pattern because it coincidentally matched the colors of the endbands!!

On The Typeset

I wanted to keep things cohesive but also give each story its own character. Libre Baskerville was a lovely typeface to do that on.

From left to right: Les Pelerins, I'm Never Lonely When I'm With You, On The Virtues of Inexhaustible Burning

For Les Pelerins, I wanted to mimic the silhouette of the establishments in Montmartre, hence the varying heights of the letters. If I wasn’t on a time crunch, I would’ve spent more time editing the headers but alas this is what we get. INLWIWY is more straightforward– a pinecone, which was a recurring theme in the story. And I think OTVOIB is my favorite. I drew tiny gold cracks onto the coal rock which is a significant element in the story. It still gives me that stomach flip whenever I reread it (iykyk).

[netherworldpost]

To give you a nicer message in your inbox:

Thank you for posting about all of the things that you do! Your enthusiasm is infectious! I can't think of another blog that could both

A) inspire me to work on little personal zine projects as part of my burnout recovery

and

B) inspire me to research and open a high interest savings account instead of being tepidly satisfied with the interest rates on the timed CD at my credit union

You have the range!

And I am eternally delighted that you share so many pieces of your joy with the world!

Ah you are very kind :) You needn't worry about ol' atty, I remain unphased by tantrums.

I have a big, flowery, open personality that is unfortunately seen as a vulnerability by the emotionally unavailable.

Unfortunately for them, I have both a block button and a big, flowery, open personality not rooted in seeking resolution with those whom disapprove of me.

Onwards!

A) This is very exciting! I hope your zine project helps tremendously. The low cost of entry (both in terms of financial price as well as structural making a zine) make them amazing things.

Start small as can be, scale up literally as big and vivid as you want. I hope you have a magnificent time.

Expand, grow, shrink, cut up, redo.

Go go go!

B) Fantastic re: high yield savings!!

CDs can be great, the increase of interest rate adds up, and if you're not going to use the money for something else (and have buffers in place), it's a great way to take advantage of the increase in funds.

In a very deeply underlined "this is not financial advice" sort of way, the main advantage (in my opinion, not advice, again stated) you can pull from them is watching the interest rate in the coming year or so.

The highest rate I can quickly find is 5.4% with a minimum of $1000, so we'll use that as a base.

5.4% after 12 months on $1000 is $1054 (+$54)

Let's say you lock that in tomorrow.

Some folks are trying to tell the feds "hey your interest rate... it's too high."

For the sake of discussion not a prediction in any way, shape, or form say the feds agree and lower the interest rate, by 0.25%, twice

CD rates in this extremely linear simplified absolutely goddamn hypothetical example reduce by 0.25% and then 0.25% again -- for new customers, but not you, because your rate is locked.

5.4% - 0.25% - 0.25 = 4.9% on new customers, not you, you're locked in, on $1000 is $1049 after their CD matures.

You made $5 more than them because you locked in your rate in a higher interest rate environment.

Conversely if the interest rate goes up, you don't get the new premium, because you're locked in. Thems the risks. I have no idea what the feds are going to do -- and neither does anyone else, including the feds better data is available.

My main vigilance on CDs is the increased return is... very small.

5.4% interest rate on a 12 month CD, $1000 base: $54 return.

4.4% interest rate on 12 months in a savings account, $1000 base: $44 return. (This can probably be beaten but it's good for easy math)

A $10/year difference... or $0.8333... ($10/12) per month.

You acquire an additional $0.83 - $0.84, per month, per $1000, by locking up your funds for a year.

Is this a good deal?

As always, depends entirely on your situation now and how likely it is to change in the timeframe (this example: 1 year) discussed.

I'm not anti any financial product, unless it takes advantage of someone. I am very "understand risk/reward and assess to your financial situation. Maximize your return, minimize your risk."

On both art, and money, I refuse to tolerate bullies who gate keep knowledge because it makes it easier to be a predator or to be a snob.

They are both complex subjects with deeply rooted moving parts and I'll never attempt to undercut the work needed to take the most advantage possible of either.

And.

A very basic, general, elementary understanding of either covers somewhere between 90 - 95% of the entire landscape.

I firmly believe that the more accessible knowledge of art and finances are, the more common benefit can be found.

[daisiesonafield-blog]

Info for Faith In The Future World Tour COUNCIL BLUFFS, IA - JUN 17 2023

With special guests THE SNUTS & ANDREW CUSHIN!

Important Times:

6:00 PM - Doors Open

7:10 PM - Andrew Cushin

8:00 PM - The Snuts

9:00 PM - Louis Tomlinson

Parking always open

Times are all approximate and subject to change.

General admission (pit tickets):

THE WHOLE VENUE IS GENERAL ADMISSION ONLY.

Stir Concert Cove is an outdoor, standing room only, venue.

Rain and thunderstorms expected, prepare accordingly!

OVERNIGHT CAMPING WILL NOT BE PERMITTED!

8AM: WRISTBAND LINE PERMITTED TO FORM AT MAIN GATE. WE WILL HAVE 2 LINES: REGULAR GA (YELLOW) AND PARTY PIT/DECK (PINK)

9AM-11AM: SEQUENTIALLY NUMBERED WRISTBANDS WILL BE PUT ON GUESTS' WRISTS UPON ARRIVAL ON A FIRST/COME FIRST/SERVE BASIS FOR THE FIRST 600 GUESTS (PER LINE) OR UNTIL 11AM. GUESTS MUST HAVE A VALID TICKET TO RECEIVE A WRISTBAND. ALL GUESTS IN THE PARTY MUST BE PRESENT.

4PM-5PM: GUESTS ARE ENCOURAGED TO RETURN AT 4PM TO QUEUE FOR ENTRY USING THE SAME LINE AS THEY DID FOR PICK-UP! SECURITY WILL HONOR WRISTBANDS FROM 4PM-5PM.

AFTER 5PM, GUESTS WILL JOIN THE LINE ON A FIRST/COME FIRST/SERVE BASIS.

If you arrive to park before 8am, please stay in your vehicles. No overnight parking.

Subject to change. Check the venue’s socials for updates!

⚠️ HYDRATION REMINDER ⚠️

Hydrate before the show, while waiting in line and during the show

For optimal hydration drink something with electrolytes such as Gatorade or LiquidIV

Rain and thunderstorms expected, prepare accordingly!

Eat well!

Here are important policies:

Anyone under the age of 16 needs to be accompanied by an adult at all times

Parking: Parking is free and located North of the venue. Handicap parking is available West of the venue near the Harrah's main entrance.

ADA: You will only need a general admission ticket and may enter prior to the public through the VIP gate. We have a handicap section on the east side of the venue at the end of the walkway to the left of the stage. Ask any employee for help. For ADA accommodations, please email Stir Concert Cove at stirconcertcove@caesars.com

Cameras: No professional cameras with zoom lenses are permitted inside Stir Concert Cove. This applies to any video cameras as well. No flash permitted.

Chairs and blankets allowed but subject to search.

Ponchos/Rain Coats allowed

Binoculars allowed

NO umbrellas

NO picnic blankets

NO smoking or vaping inside the venue; you may smoke outside the gates in the Smoking/Vaping area.

NO outside food or beverages

NO Animals (except service animals)

NO Marijuana or any cannabis products

NO drugs

NO Coolers

NO Glass, Metal, or Hard Plastic Containers

NO knives, firearms, Brass knuckles, Tasers & mace/pepper spray or weapons of any kind

NO Fireworks

NO Laptops

NO Selfie sticks

NO Laser Pointers/flashlights

NO In-line or Roller Skates, Skateboards, Scooters, Bicycles

RE-ENTRY: you must use the exit only gate and re-enter the venue through the entry gates. Upon exiting, you must have your ticket scanned out to be able to re-enter. You must have a ticket to re-enter.

VIEW VENUE MAP 

VIEW SEAT MAP

*This list is not exhaustive. Items not appearing on the list may still be prohibited at the discretion of Security

For more details click here and here

Bag Policy:

Clear plastic, vinyl or PVC tote bags permitted after search.

Anything above a 4.5x6.5 clutch must be clear

Small or clutch-sized purses or wallets, not exceeding 4.5 inches tall by 6.5 inches long

One-gallon, clear plastic freezer bags (Ziploc bag or similar).

No large purses, bags or backpacks will be allowed inside Stir Concert Cove.

Banners, signs and flag policy:

Flags smaller than 18x24 in are ok

PLEASE NOTE: this venue was impossible to contact and provided minimal information online. If I have more info I will update this original post. Check back for updates, or ask the venue in person if you have more questions.

Contact:

For additional questions please call the venue at 712.329.6000. You can also access their website. Email: stirconcertcove@caesars.com Check their IG here or Twitter here or Facebook here for updates. Address: Stir Concert Cove-Harrah's Council Bluffs Casino & Hotel. 1 Harrah's Blvd, Council Bluffs, IA 51501

[sarasa-cat]

The other hour or so while lying flat on my back and letting my muscles melt into the couch, I reblogged this finish your fucking fics february bingo card which I'll hardly make a dent in it during the shortest month of the year but ya gotta start somewhere, right?

I've been desperate to get BACK into fandom as a participant --- writer, artist, image maker, virtual photographer, reader-cheerleader-kudos-presser --- but these past few years have been something. Especially everything from August of 2022 through pretty much all of 2023. Yeeeeesh.

As I said in a recentish post, re-entry to the US was hard on me these past couple of weeks. I'm feeling more focused now. More energy to spare. More ready to do stuff (as long as a minimize a repetitive stress injury on my arm/shoulder that has recently flared up o___o).

About two hours ago I was thinking to myself -- UGH? I want to do SOMETHING fannish but I don't even know where to start because my brain has a backlog of YEARS of things it wants to do.

And then I saw that bingo card. Good place to start. (Will work on it as long as it takes)

Assuming the repetitive stress injury nonsense doesn't become too out of control, I want to get back to my pile of video games asap. Steamdeck to the rescue.

If my arm becomes too cranky, well, I have a few TV series of interest that could turn into fannish fun.

[estellamiraiauthor]

The Stars May Rise and Fall: The Annotated Re-read (Chapter 30)

Just FYI, we’re officially into the stage of this book where just about everything makes me cry. (I know, I know, I wrote the thing, I could’ve changed it! But angst just hurts soooo good!)

As always, spoilers (including spoilers for chapters beyond this one) under the cut!

They take a taxi to Shinjuku to get on the train, and Rei is visibly uncomfortable riding in a car… but there’s not really much alternative at this point, as they both recognize. I don’t think he remembers the moment of the accident, or any moments of consciousness he would’ve had immediately afterwards. The brain tends to block things like that out, but I do think he probably has a fuzzy or even unconscious memory of that moment just before, when you know it’s about to happen but it’s too late to do anything to stop it.

I would love art of Rei’s super extravagant coat in this scene, by the way… yet another one to add to the list!

The taxi driver in Hakone is sort of the opposite of the asshole doctor when it comes to microaggressions. He sees immediately that Rei has a disability and asks for his government ID, which can actually get you a lot of discounts and things like free entry into public facilities like zoos and museums, but I think Rei’s usually too proud to actively ask for those benefits very much. Up to this point, I don’t think Teru even realizes that he HAS one of those ID cards. But the taxi driver is a nice guy who wants to give them the discount, and does. BUT… then he goes and makes some well-meaning but ignorant comment about Teru and Rei spending Christmas with their girlfriends. Of course, this isn’t malicious but it’s still kind of awkward and hurtful.

They get to the hotel, and poor Rei I think is just feeling incredibly guilty, that Teru has done this kind, amazing thing for him when all he (thinks he) has done is make Teru’s life more difficult. GAH, I wish he’d just TALK to Teru because Teru doesn’t feel that way at all.

Teru also feels a little guilty for choosing a traditional Japanese room, since there’s not a lot of furniture and it’s hard for Rei to sit on the floor (and always has been (at least since Teru has known him), as established in an izakaya several chapters ago; this wasn’t directly caused by the more recent injury, so yeah, Teru COULDVE thought of that, but he’s still probably being too hard on himself. He did come up with a really thoughtful plan overall.)

I DO have art of my boys in hotel yukatas! Would REALLY love some art of the bath scene too, but I’m getting a little ahead of myself.

So this hotel (really a ryokan, sorry, I’ve been calling it a hotel because that’s English, but it’s like a traditional Japanese style inn) has meals served in the room, which is super fancy (I think I’ve only been to places that did this twice… both in Hakone, and both as romantic weekend type things), and also super nice if you’re boyfriend’s self-conscious about eating in front of people. The server is also kind to Rei, bringing him a stool because he clearly can’t sit comfortably on the floor, and like with the taxi driver, he’s appreciative and polite. I think there are a couple of reasons behind this sort of shift in attitude. First, I think people in this rural resort town are just being a little more friendly than most people in Tokyo are, but more importantly than that, I think Rei has kind of realized that he does need to change, he does need to learn how to accept help gracefully… and he also just wants to make this trip wonderful for Teru, and he knows that means minimal drama. ❤️

Then they take a private bath in the hot spring. I have nothing really to add here, except that this is way up toward the top of my “I Want Art” list, and every single time I go to a hot spring I think of this scene. ❤️❤️❤️

And then we have the not-sex scene. By which I mean they totally have sex but it’s fade to black. Some readers liked this, some didn’t, but I ultimately think it’s better than the alternative: a sex scene written by me! 😂

I did go back and forth on whether to try to write it. The ultimate reason I didn’t was because I wanted it to be perfect for every reader. And I realize that “fade to black” in itself is not “perfect” for some readers, but I also didn’t want to ruin the whole book by having the sex scene not be right. So if you imagine it wild and kinky, it was. If you imagine it sweet and simple, then THAT’S how it was. If you’d rather not imagine it at all, that’s also completely fine.

Personally, I think it was very sweet, very careful, very full of love and consent… it’s Teru’s first time with a guy, and Rei’s first time since the accident, so I do think they take things very slow, and probably don’t get to full-on anal penetration or anything… mouths and hands? But that’s me. You’re free to imagine it (or not) however you want.

I also think it doesn’t really matter HOW it happened, just THAT it happened. I read a lot of romance novels during the editing of this (I actually hadn’t read ANY before I wrote the first draft… again, I apologize deeply to romance readers, this was never supposed to be a category romance novel!) and there definitely ARE books out there where HOW the characters have sex drives the plot or develops the relationship. And there are others where it’s not really intended to: it’s there for fun, for titillation. In this case, I think the fact THAT they have sex is the plot/character development point. We’ve seen them be caring and careful with each other up to now, and I didn’t think that showing that specifically in the bedroom would change anything. As for titillation… I honestly don’t like sex scenes that exist only for titillation as a reader, so I don’t think I’m the writer to understand what those readers want and to give it to them.

The couple of sex scenes I’ve attempted to write to date (mostly for fanfic exchanges or challenges where the prompt I got was more adult) have also been… not good. When I was a kid, if I happened to draw a picture that I really liked in black and white, I never wanted to color it because I might ruin it. I think attempting to write the sex scene here would’ve felt like trying to color something that already worked in just pencil?

I do want to sort of address one comment made by a reviewer that Rei deserved to be sexy and sexual on the page, deserved to be SHOWN being loved physically as well as emotionally and… I agree. That’s a very good point. Unfortunately… I just really don’t think my writing skills in this particular area are up to the task. It would really have to be perfect, and beautiful… and I’m not sure I could’ve done that.

And then we have the last scene, after the fade to black, where Teru decides that he’s not going to take the deal… he’s going to prioritize being with Rei. Which is exactly what Rei DOESNT want him to do. 😭

[eorzeashan]

Dark Union

“You called for me.”

It was meant to be more of a question than a statement, but Orradiz found himself caring very little about the respect of his tone as he strode into the torchlit annals of Darth Jadus’ office, the heels of his boots clicking against the obsidian floor. Upon entry, the Echani was hit with the oppressive atmosphere the Sith exuded as naturally as breathing and winced, reminded of the ails that had befallen the rest of Intelligence the minute Jadus walked into the room. Kaliyo had made herself scarce, a wise decision in the face of her own brand of recklessness.

He couldn't blame her for leaving him alone with the Sith.

Jadus himself gave no physical acknowledgment to his lackluster greeting, his imposing figure as passionless as a statue at the other end of the room and twice as towering.

“Come. Stand before me,” Jadus commanded, reticent, “and revel in the power of the Dark Council.”

Always straight to the chase, with no room for argument. Orradiz sighed inwardly. He had gone on nicer dates with even the stiffest of boards. Regardless, decorum was decorum, and their kindly Sith overlords were not to be kept waiting overlong.

Resisting the urge to make an expression, he obeyed, stopping a toe short of the minimal distance required to bask in the presence of one so glorious without grossly offending them. Jadus did not speak immediately, patient in his eerie way that was reminiscent to him of Firaxan sharks surrounding the final survivor of a downed vessel.

Perhaps the Sith had been one in his previous life.

The thought distracted him from the dreary atmosphere, but none divided their attention from the predator in front of them for long and lived to tell such tales. So, he waited for that next order, the next mundane command that saw him bouncing planet to planet on the whims of another force-user whose “great” and “powerful” mind could not possibly be “understood”.

It was not to be.

“Allow your body to betray you.”

Jadus’ next words snapped his focus back to him. His hairs stood up on end.

Betray?

Orradiz scarcely had a chance to pursue the questions whirling in his head, nor address the vice grip of warning apprehension that plunged his stomach into the cold pits of terror. A shock like lightning greased with the biting cold of frigid space tore itself up his spine, a silent scream with no sound traveling from the cage of his heart to his seizing muscles in the form of uncontrollable shaking. Something was wrong. His knee hit the dark marble tile. Get up, damn you! Move! Do something! Years of survival instincts went ignored, his body rebelling against the very notion that its master was anyone but the Sith Lord he prostrated before.

My head- I can't-

He swayed.

A light sheen of sweat gathered over his brow. What had once been a dull ache at the fore of his skull pulsed into a throb, then a feverish beat that knocked against the inside of his head like the steady bang of a nail driven into a coffin lid. The picture of the dim office lit by scarlet hue blinked in and out of focus. Jadus himself became three, then one, then two.

Ja-

He reached towards that multiplying figure whose form seemed to only swell within the rising darkness.

"Allow your blood to boil, and your heart to slow."

His fingers trembled from where they dug back into the floor. He fought against the encroaching black that closed around the corners of his vision, gasping, panting for breath as even the air escaped his closing lungs. The heat was inescapable, suffocating him, choking him. His clothes felt too tight, his skin a prison. Never before had he experienced such agony; the molten core of his heart threatened to cook him inside and out, and he cried out for one name to save him.

The sound echoed off the walls. The chime of a wedding bell. The death knell of a funeral. The shadows settled over him like a veil, obscuring his vision.

By the time he re-opened his eyes, he found himself kneeling at Jadus’ feet with no prior recollection of how he’d arrived. The Sith Lord’s hands hovered at the sides of his face, large enough to eclipse the spy’s smaller frame. black Orradiz’s eyes, darkened with fever and dulled with the burden of suffering, stared into the empty mask that now gazed into his soul.

“Everything that is not of the Dark Side will be purged…”

Jadus’ hands closed around the frame of his cheeks, caging him in. His touch was like a stone that had never met the heat of the sun. Orradiz hated himself for the pathetic gasp that escaped his lips at the sudden contact as the hazy veil of pain subsided into an afterthought, the relief so potent he could cry.

Yet he could not bear to look away. He could not. The swirl of disgust at his own weakness was but a drop in the ocean of thoughts, voices that were not his own, urges as calm as the surface of a frozen lake and ones as violent as a churning sea all crashing over him, taking him away with the tide as two became one. They merged together as stars did in the nexus: a burst of pain, a collision of consciousness, and soon he knew nothing at all.

"…or it will be tainted.”

In this dark universe, there was Jadus, and only Jadus.

Orradiz felt him there, in his mind (whose?), in his body. (mine?) His lips parted slightly in unknowing invitation to the one who had claimed him, body and soul. The moment grew pregnant with silence and the sound of his gentle breath, all background noise to the intertwined beat of their hearts, louder than thunder in the dead of the sanctuary of the Sith Lord.

The pad of Jadus’ thumb moved across his chin and upwards towards his mouth, carving a slow fire in the wake of his accepted destruction. Even the slightest touch tore him apart, his senses overloaded with the feeling of him in all his spaces. Orradiz stared at him as meek as a calf held to the butcher’s block, seconds before the knife came down.

Jadus’ thumb stopped at the corner of his lips, nudging them, pulling the soft flesh apart with the barest of effort as if amused by the very thought. He needed no force to know what he owned.

Orradiz gave it to him, weak in his embrace.

“This is inoculation, Agent. This is a sacred rite. You are privileged.” His voice was a steady timbre, lifeless in its tone yet a siren song to the one whose ears it was meant for.

“This,” He said, sealing them together with the Force as their officiant and the everlasting Dark as their witness, “is your due reward.”

[aces-and-kings]

26: Share a journal entry. (for Grey?)

436

Our company finds itself settled in Coerthas and I am unable to see fault with the decision. The elements remind of home and there is melancholy in the air. Perhaps a somber truth known only by a people who have not merely lost their structures but bore witness to the destruction. Vashti is increasingly insatiable. Far fewer innocent options present themselves this far west. As I have been robbed of my manservant I am left with little option but to allow her to siphon my own. Scraps to sustain, but hardly nourishing. My strength wavers beyond what minimal comfort levels I formerly maintained. I think of Ilsabard as snow blankets the windowsill. he glamour faltering to reveal my true reflection in the frosted glass. Growing up I had found annoyance in the constant reminder of the gift it was to be so handsome. Never had I cared for such trivial opinions, though missed are the days when I could at least stand the sight of myself.

The people of Ishgard are neither welcoming nor indifferent, seeming utterly spiteful when I pass. This hangar has quickly become a tomb, and I should greatly enjoy a relocation. A topic to broach next we gather. Come to think of it, I've not seen but the duskwolf since yesterday. Curious.

~ G.E.

@briar-ffxiv thanks for the ask. I think Greyson is one of my only characters who would actually keep a journal as well. Very much a re-counter of recent events.

[alittlebrownbat]

A snippet I'm working on

A tapping sound was coming from the window. 

Remus opened his eyes to the graying plaster above him. A watermark that spread from the corner strangely resembled a rabbit. Dust motes danced in the light beams that streamed in through the slats in the window shutters. He breathed in the new day and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He allowed himself a lie in, having arrived in the quiet stillness between night and morning, long after the drunks had stumbled off to bed, still before the bakers rose to prepare their dough. It must be at least 10 AM by now as the room was fully illuminated.

Remus pushed himself up onto his forearms to unlatch the shutters and allow entry to the tawny owl waiting outside. He unfurled the bit of parchment untied took from her leg. 

This evening, 6PM. Welcome back. - APWBD

He crumpled the note in his fist. The owl stares at him unblinking, expectant. 

“I’ve got nothing for you, I’m sorry,” he confessed. She nipped at his fingers and gave him an irritated hoot. 

“I said I was sorry! I’m hungry too.” 

She ruffled her feathers in a noticeably irritated manner and took flight from the window sill.

Remus took in the room around him for the first time, having slipped into sleep like a stone through water the night prior. It was cozy, an oil painting of a stone castle hung above the fireplace and a claret-colored armchair rested in the corner. He could hear muted conversations and the din of the dining area coming from the floor below. The smell of bacon permeated the air and his stomach audibly grumbled. Breakfast is still on then, thank god. 

Remus got out of bed and padded over to the bathroom. He almost regretted leaving the warmth of his cocoon of quilts, the creep of autumn felt in the floorboards and the porcelain of the sink. He splashed water on his face, running damp fingers through loose curls, and looked at himself in the mirror. Living as a vagabond had not been without cost, and it was apparent he had paid the price with his body. He hadn’t had a proper meal in weeks, or what felt closer to an eternity. It was evident in the hollows of his cheeks and the way his clothes hung loose on his already spindly frame. His hair badly needed a cut, but he took the time to quickly run a razor over the stubble on his face. It’ll have to do for now.

He’d spent the last 8 weeks with a werewolf pack in the wilderness of Glen Affric. Some packs were aligned with Voldemort but most were unaffiliated. Many were living as nomads, rotating forests for full moons to avoid both preying on wizards and falling prey themselves.

Remus’s mission had been as successful as any of the others. And after two years, he was unable to provide the packs with a good faith argument as to why fighting with the Order would benefit them. Voldemort was offering werewolves power, protection, a seat at the table, none of which had come to fruition. Remus’s assurances, and truthfully what they really needed – the chance at a magical education, employment, housing – were just as hollow. And so he spent weeks getting to know them, transforming with them, living by their side at Dumbledore’s order, a mission Remus realized he’d been marked for the day he got his Hogwarts letter. And his progress had been near minimal. 

Not that the rest of the Order was making much more progress than he, quite the opposite. They were being picked off in quick succession. Caradoc Dearborn went missing without a trace a few weeks previous. Without any attempts from him to make contact or leads for the Order to follow, they had all assumed the worst. Death Eaters had made Edgar Bones and his wife watch as they tortured and murdered their children before finally killing them as well. And Marlene and her family, well. Remus had locked himself in his room for days after the news of the McKinnons. He treated run-ins he had with other Order members as if they may be their last, because on many occasions, especially recently, they had been.

Remus pulled a wool jumper over his t-shirt and laced up his boots. After closing the door to his room and locking it behind him, he glanced in either direction, ensuring he was alone. 

Locus clausum. Protego totalum. Intrusor certiorem. He shuddered to think of returning to the room in any way but the way he was leaving it, unoccupied. Remus walked down the creaking wooden steps to the first floor where breakfast was being served. The radio voice of Freddie Mercury echoed from a room down the hall, bellowing why can’t we give ourselves one more chance?

[stargazer-sims]

Fiscal year-end is HELL

I feel like I haven't accomplished much of anything this month, unless you count stuff for my IRL job. But, the official fiscal year-end is tomorrow, and we are DONE. (or at least I am... my boss is behind because he was ill with covid).

But anyway...

Re: Sims stuff - If I can gather up the motivation to do screenshots, I will have not one, but two Journal Entries this weekend. Well, it's actually parts 3 and 4 of entry #49, but you know. #50 and #51 are both partially written as well, so hopefully April will look a bit more productive than March did in terms of output.

Currently, Victor and Yuri (& supporting cast) are the characters front-and-center in my brain. They are demanding all the attention, so I'm just going to apologize in advance if you see a lot of random photo shoots and/or gameplays in the Willow Creek Haunted House. The Mt. Komorebi portion of their story is so close to being done, and I want to tie up the majority of the loose ends and get on to the lovely epilogue I have planned for them. (And then on to Willow Creek, of course). But, while I write, which I'm sure you've all realized by now that I do very slowly, I'll still be playing with them in their haunted house in my casual save.

ALSO... I'm dying to start Seiji & Sachiko's story... pardon the pun. Unfortunately, I don't think I can do it justice. It's absolutely epic in my head, and I think it'll just suck if I try to bring it to life here.

Meanwhile, just in case anyone thinks I abandoned it, I'm still planning on loosely telling the story of Sugar Valentine and their entourage, because that's been fun and the writing has been minimal. I'm going to let Nikolai and Anya have their real lives back too, because as funny as it was to see them as parents, I actually dislike infants more and more the longer I play with them. They're still cute, but as a gameplay point in Sims 4, they're annoying. Plus, I have the milestone glitch, so it feels kind of pointless if my infants can't advance.

At some point, I will return to Au Ciel Étoilé. I lost momentum somewhere along the way, but hopefully I'll get it back soon.

...and I'm back on my CC-making shit. I may have accidentally started a Part Two of the never-ending shirts. Oops.

[jayahult]

Eight

Eight crew-members. This ship is supposed to run with eight crew-members.

That thought kept echoing in my head as I stared out the window towards the inky black, pulling away from the fray. I couldn't look behind me. Allison was behind me. She was behind me. I checked the damage control display again, as if it would make things better. We were running on one of six thrusters remaining. The ECM was spasming, shooting out false signals, eight on our tail, sixteen, one, twenty-five. I hit the switch to try to purge the system. I didn't even want to think that he had an active fusion reactor sitting towards the tail of the ship. I couldn't bring myself to check it again. Levi had patched the leak, the poor bastard. I checked the life-support. The missile had torn open the side of the ship like can-opener. A large portion of the oxygen had gone with our cramped quarters; the carbon recyclers were several miles behind us, alongside our emergency oxygen kits. I punched an approximation of our status into the computer. Levi thumped his foot behind me. We had about twenty hours before we'd all suffocate.

I sighed, and looked back at Allison. She was dead. I had no idea how she got this far. She must have been just getting through the locks when she was exposed to the vacuum. Our suits were designed for helping with rapid decompression, but there was only so much that they could do. Her face was red with blood, her eyes desperate and sad and trapped that way forever. Levi was alive for now. He was near to the reactor. He saw it nearly breach. Fusion reactors don't melt down, not like the old fission systems were prone to, but a leak on a functioning reactor core could and would release massive amounts of radiation. His face was ruddy and sad. He couldn't meet my eyes. He was the oldest among us, twenty-seven.

The radio crackled to life, startling me. I kicked the other chair as I turned around and Allison floated against the chair that I had crudely locked her into, and her dead mouth lolled open as if to speak what was said over the channel:

"Attention, attention, all vessels - retreat has been ordered. Repeat - retreat has been ordered. Repeat -"

I checked the TMCS, and the fuel reserves. Technically we weren't dead in space, but we were as close to it as we could get. We wouldn't make it back to carrier in time for the retreat. That meant capture, or re-entry. By everything I'd heard being taken prisoner by the RTs would make you wish you were dead. We weren't built for re-entry. Even if we got a stable trajectory that wouldn't kill us by lithobraking, there was the problem of shutting down the reactor in time to minimize damage to ourselves and the local environment. The local comms opened up as well.

"Is anyone alive up there?"

It was Silvia. Still alive. She was in the engine room when the breach happened, which means that she'd be cut off from the rest of us.

"We're alive!" I said frantically, "It's Juno and Levi. Seems like we're the only other survivors. Listen, do you have an EVA suit near you? I need you at the bridge. Allison is dead. Levi is-"

I glanced at him.

"He's injured. He's going to need medical attention, but first we need to burn and re-enter Calvin-22-"

"Are you insane?"

"I've already weighed the options, Silvia. We're going to either die in orbit, in aerobrake, in lithobrake or we'll be executed by tribunal by some RTs, or we can take our best chance."

"You are insane," she said, "Thruster three looks like it could still function if I make a quick fix. I'm going to try that and head to you."

"Thank you," I said.

"You're welcome, ma'am."

The comm crackled again, and went silent, and I slumped in the chair, confused. It was only a few moments later that I realized that since Allison was dead, I was the highest-ranking person on the ship left. Levi waited for a moment.

"So, how do you feel about the promotion?"

"What?"

"I- nevermind," he said, "Thought it'd make you laugh. Ma'am, you entered the numbers wrong."

"Hm?"

He reached over to the life support panel, and tapped the backspace lightly before entering three instead of eight. I hadn't even noticed my mistake.

[lindsaywesker]

Good morning! I hope you slept well and feel rested? Currently sitting at my desk, in my study, attired only in my blue towelling robe, enjoying my first cuppa of the day. Welcome to Too Much Information Tuesday.

There are 328 people in the US called Abcde.

Signs saying 'Beware Of Pickpockets' attract pickpockets.

In ancient Rome, women used tampons soaked in opium.

The best time of the day for hand-eye co-ordination is 8pm.

Fear of heights only begins six weeks after a baby learns to crawl.

Half the buyers of vinyl records in the US don’t own a record player.

The average Briton lies about how they really feel 11 times per week.

The happier a bird is, the jazzier and more free-form its singing will be.

Prisoners in California can reduce their sentences by opting to fight forest fires.

Red lipstick boosts waitresses' tips from male customer but not from female ones.

At a food safety conference in Baltimore in 2014, 100 attendees got food poisoning.

Hippos can retract their testicles over a foot into their body to stop rivals biting them.

Until the reign of Henry VIII, kitchen assistants in the Royal household worked naked.

A cyberchondriac is someone who scours the internet looking for details of their illnesses.

There is more toxic nitrogen dioxide in London's Oxford Street than anywhere else in the world.

As a teenager, Sean Paul was on the Jamaican national teams for both swimming and water polo.

Before the invention of colour TV, 75% of people reported dreaming in black and white. Today, only 12% do.

William The Conqueror banned capital punishment. Instead, criminals had their eyes or testicles removed.

Robert Mugabe's wife, Grace, received her PhD from the University of Zimbabwe two months after she enrolled.

King Harold didn't die at the battle of Hastings from an arrow in the eye: he was hacked apart by four Norman knights.

Astronomers at the Allen Telescope Array in California always keep champagne in their fridge in case they discover alien life.

George Orwell named '1984's torture chamber Room 101 after a BBC conference room where he endured countless, boring meetings.

When Stephen Hawking gave a lecture in Japan, he was asked not to mention the possible re-collapse of the universe in case it affected the stock market.

There is no strong evidence that having sex, going for a walk or eating spicy food helps to induce labour in pregnancy. Nipple stimulation, however, has been shown to work.

By the end of her life, Queen Victoria's bust measured seven inches more than her height (5’ 0”). Did the maths for you: 67 inches! Search “Norma Stitz” to see what that looks like!

The oldest known British joke dates from the 10th century. Found in a book of Anglo-Saxon poetry, it reads, "What hangs at a man’s thigh and wants to poke the hole that it’s often poked before? Answer: A key."

Your dreams get weirder during the night. Shortly after you fall asleep, your dreams are most likely to be about things you did or saw during the day, but as the night wears on they become increasingly detached from reality.

In 1923, a jockey named Frank Hayes won a race at Belmont Park in New York despite being dead. He suffered a heart attack mid-race, but his body stayed in the saddle until his horse crossed the line for a 20-1 outsider victory.

Aphrodite of Knidos was one of the first full-size female nude statues in Greek history. According to ancient Greek historian, Lucian of Samosata, it was so lifelike that a man broke into the temple where it was housed to attempt to have sex with it.

In 1978, Isaac Asimov judged a local limerick contest and deemed this entry to be the best out of 12,000: “The bustard’s an exquisite fowl, With minimal reason to growl, He escapes what would be, Illegitamacy, By grace of a fortunate vowel.”

In 1996, a Hong Kong gangster kidnapped the son of the richest man in Asia and demanded a $130 million ransom for his return. After receiving the money, the gangster later called the billionaire and asked him for advice on how he should invest the money.

French gangster Albert Spaggiari was arrested after his gang stole 60 million francs worth of valuables from a bank. At his trial, he distracted the judge, then leaped out of a window and fled on a motorcycle specially set up for him. He was never caught.

The single biggest expense in the Lego Universe video game was hiring a team of moderators to detect if anyone had built Lego penises. Lego Universe was supposed to be the Lego MMO to rule them all but the PC-exclusive title disappeared from existence not too long after its launch. Despite the team's best efforts, their dong detection software just couldn't keep up with the sheer amount of inappropriate player erections popping up everywhere.

Okay, that’s enough information for one day. Have a tremendous and tumultuous Tuesday! I love you all.