#probably just a bunch of stuff stacking up at once

[lunarruled]

This was why Kyleigh has never bothered to interact with anyone backstage before. Most were polite, just trying to get to wherever their destination was or just asking her if she had seen someone. But now Drew McIntyre had decided to provoke her into a conversation and keep her in it as if he didn't have anything else to do. Rolling her eyes once more she glanced down at the watch on her wrist and let out a sigh. "I try not to become fans of anyone honestly. My job is to make sure that you all can go out there and do your job, not cheer for you or buy your merchandise." As if she didn't have a stack of free shirts back at home, along with a bunch of other shit she would probably never use. He didn't need to know that, no reason to give the man even more ammunition to keep her away from earning her keep.

"Well the only one annoying me right now is you, so does that mean I can put some tape over your big mouth? And before you ask yes I can reach all the way up there." Pretty much everyone around her was at least a whole ass foot taller than she was (incredibly rude if you were to ask her but whatever), but the half lycan had found ways around that. And right now she was very tempted to grab a chair and wrap Drew's entire head in the stuff. However now her curious side decided to show up, causing her head to tilt to the side as she glanced up at the large man in front of her. "Is that why you hit people with chairs? Make you feel all tingly inside?"

he   likes   conversations   that   are   about   nothing.   likes   to   poke   and   prod   bruises   either   on   himself   or   on   other   people.   it's   a   way   to   keep   the   boredom   out   the   door.   ignored   or   met   by   rolling   eyes   half   the   time   when   he   walks   into   the   locker   room.   too   loud   or   too   cruel   to   fit   in.   too   determined   to   let   a   fun   little   conversation   slip   from   between   his   locked   jaws   now   that   he's   found   it.   kyleigh   is   fun.   interesting   for   now   until   this   conversation   inevitably   grows   boring   too.

❝   oh   come   on,   don't   tell   me   that   you're   a   fan   of   the   big   oaf.   ❞   groan   is   theatrical.   dramatic   and   perfected   for   underneath   the   stage   lights   (   wonders   briefly   if   she   helped   hang   them.   wonders   equally   as   briefly   if   she   would   rig   them   next   week   to   fall   on   his   head   )   still,   comment   to   his   victory   is   enough   to   draw   out   a   smile.   loves   being   reminded   of   victories   almost   as   much   as   he   loves   winning   in   the   first   place.   ❝   well.   you're   the   one   with   the   tape.   stick   it   over   their   mouths   if   they   annoy   you   so   much.   it   might   be   therapeutic   for   you.   ❞

[kirby-the-gorb]

[pisstintedglasses]

Diary of a Horny Man

Landlord!Park Jongseong-Jay x Tenant!Reader

warnings: BDSM, unsafe sex (don't copy them), dacryphilia, begging, brat, POV, rough sex, daddy dom!Jay, loud af, dubcon, cnc

Chapter 1 - Moved in

Stacks upon stacks of moving boxes lay unopened on the floor of your new apartment. You've longed for the simplicity of living alone in a cramped space in the bustling city, especially since you grew up with a large family that was all up in your business. No privacy whatsover. So imagine your joy when you went apt hunting and immediately found a cozy, cheap, and efficient one. 

It came with the perks of having a small bakery ran by a sweet old couple downstairs and friendly neighbors. After going around and meeting everyone before you settled in, you noticed that almost all of the other residents were senior citizens. Every few days you'd be given a fresh batch of cookies or a signature dish of theirs. You were well-loved in your little community. Like a grandchild of sorts.

So why do you feel a sense of unease when you're finally alone? It's been 9 days since you moved in, and you still haven't made a move to add a touch of your essence to your new home. Your picture frames, your books, your porcelain figurines of angels—none of it was displayed on the wooden shelves that adorned the forest-green walls.

You thought it was just because you're still adjusting to the new space since you've never been on your own before. So, you didn't try to rush yourself into it.

•••••○○○○○●●●●●○○○○○•••••

As mentioned before, perks came with your new abode. It isn't limited to just nice old folks who care for you. No. It also gave you a damn hot landlord. His name is Jay, who was about your age. You've heard from the grannies that he used to be the previous owner of the room I was currently occupying.

Apprently, the building was about to get demolished when the former landlord decided to sell the place. All of the poor old residents were at the verge of being evicted. But their homes were saved by this Jay guy when he offered to buy it. So everyone saw him as some sort of hero. 

In a way... he is.

Wait. If Jay was this really compassionate guy who sacrificed a shit ton of money to let a bunch of people keep their homes, why was he so cold to you? When he first showed you the apartment, he seemed so distant.

You were scared that you could say something that would piss him off and you'd lose the deal immediately. But fortunately, he didn't blow a fuse. You thought two things of his angsty behavior. One; that it was absolutely rude, and two; that it was absolutely hot.

You couldn't help but keep looking back at the day he was touring you. //

"Here, not much to see." Jay said as he gruffly unlocked the door. You followed him around the flat which consisted of a living room, a small bedroom with a bathroom in it, and a rustic kitchen with a small balcony attached a few feet next to the stove. "Oh.. okay. It looks nice though." You muttered with your hands clasped politely in front of you. 

 "Yeah, well, the outside's not the problem. You’ll be fine as long as you don’t break anything. The last tenant was a pain. Left the place a mess. You’ll probably have to fix that light fixture, though." He points to a flickering light overhead the door of the hall that separated your bedroom from the kitchen. 

"I didn't realize it was broken—"

 "Well, now you do. You’re gonna need to take care of stuff like that yourself. Don’t come crying to me every time something’s off. You signed the lease."

"I see. Um, what about the heating? It was a bit cold in the hallway."  You were taken aback by his rude demeanor, but spoke nothing of it, instead you inquired more.

"It works fine if you know how to use it. You touch it once, it'll heat up. You’ll figure it out. Just don’t touch the thermostat too much—it’s old." Knocking on the device a few times, he gruffed once more. For a guy your age, he talked like a 40 year old man who's been through shit.

"Got it, thanks... And the neighbors seem a bit loud sometimes. But they're nice. Old people, amirite?" You tried to crack a joke in hopes of diffusing whatever tension Jay has up his ass. It seemingly worked as he chuckled for a brief second. "Yeah, what do you expect? It’s an apartment. People are gonna be loud. You want peace and quiet, go live in the suburbs. I’m not here to babysit your complaints."

I'd rather not.

"Alright, I’ll keep that in mind. Is there a maintenance number I can call if—"

"You can call me, sure. But don’t expect a quick response. I’ve got better things to do than fix your sink at 2 a.m. You’re on your own most of the time." He shrugged, as his eyes followed you while you scoped the place.

"Right. Well, I guess I’ll take it then." You said as you ran a hand on the coffee table.

He grinned but he was clearly barely interested.  "Good. Just don’t cause any trouble, pay your rent on time, and we’ll get along just fine. Any issues, take it up with the wall for all I care." 

After he made you sign a few papers, your first interaction ended. You went back to your old house with a new key and a crush on your rude landlord. I mean, who wouldn't find him attractive. Young, clearly knows what he wants, and handsome. It lowkey became one of your excitements about moving in.

•••••○○○○○●●●●●○○○○○•••••

You see him visiting sometimes, being bombarded by grannies shoving a bunch of their treats or hand-knitted scarves in his face in the lobby. It was an adorable sight. He grinned bashfully at the attention before your eyes locked. His smile instantly dropped, and his face turned back to the same gloomy state as when you first met.

It amused you, seeing him put up a tough-guy act when he was draped in a pink beanie, lovingly made by Gale, one of the grannies. Raising a brow, you turned your heel to head back to your room before another Granny—Flor, called out your name. "Join us, dear! All of these aren't for JJ." She mused. You smiled at the nickname before strutting down to join them. After all, who were you to turn down an offer of spending quality time with sweet grannies.

"Good afternoon, ladies," You beamed. In the blink of an eye, a cup of tea was in your grasp and you were sat next to 'JJ', who looked like he wanted to crawl up to a rock and die.

You spent the rest of the afternoon being interrogated by the women. Queries ranging from your middle name to your latest romantic encounter arose. And you were pressured into answering every single one of them.

"Well dear, a pretty girl like you shouldn't be single!" Gale exclaimed as she turned to Jay and placed a wrinkled hand on his forearm. "Jay, you're single too, aren't you? Why don't you take deary over here on a date?" This made everyone pipe down. All the other grannies seemingly rooted for you two. 

Ah, so that's why they called me down. 

Though, you weren't gonna lie, you were curious how he'd react. He didn't even meet your eyes before he abruptly stood up and excused himself, muttering something about drainage as he disappeared to god-knows-where. 

Gale and the others looked at you with apologetic faces, while you sat there with a baffled expression adorning your face. "I'm sorry dear, I shouldn't have said anything. He's just been so stressed after he took over the building, we've been trying to find him a new lady to focus on." 

You just nodded and stared at the stairs where he disappeared from.

After about another hour of gossip, you finally found an opening and excused yourself.

When you finally made it to your room, you sat at the couch and just stared into space.

As your gaze settled in front of you, across the hall that separated your bedroom from your kitchen. You noticed a sharp bulge on the panel of the end of the hall. Upon further inspection, it was a door latch, intentionally covered by the same green wallpaper that garnished the rest of the loft.

"Why have I never noticed before.." you furrowed your brows before glaring at the broken light hanging above you. "I'm blaming you."

Without much thought, your hand reached out to the bulge and traced over it. You were about to pry the wallpaper of before Jay's scowl flashed in your mind, making your hand stop its course of action. 

Maybe this thing was hidden on purpose. I mean, Jay didn't even spare a glance at this when he showed you around. Well if he didn't want anyone to see what was in the hypothetic room, he wouldn't have opened this place up for rent. But what if he caught you? What if there was a dead body in there? What if he kicks you out for snooping around? 

A cacophony of questions transpired in your mind. But you just pushed it all down just in case something bad happens if you let your impulses take over you. As the saying goes, Curiosity killed the cat.

•••••○○○○○●●●●●○○○○○•••••

A thud jolted you awake. Checking the clock on your bedside table, it showed the digits 1:09 am. 

Did someone break in? Different scenarios swirled in your mind and you began to overthink, you heard squeaks. But it didn't seem like it came from your living room, or kitchen, and not from the hall.

Using your rational side, you leaned against the wall of your bedroom that faced the living room, and no sound came from there. So you leaned in the side that was supposedly the end of building. Considering your room parallel to yours on the other wing wasn't occupied. You were shellshocked when you confirmed that the noise stemmed from there, which then moved to the direction of that hidden room. 

Warily, you took one of your box cutters and tippy-toed to the end of the hall. You hesitated once more, but an all-too-familiar grunt steeled your resolve. Gripping the cutter tighter, you traced the sharp end to the outline of the door and steadily peeled the paper away. Low and behold, a door with a pretty but broken latch stood before you.

Before you could second-guess your choice, you quietly unlatched it and pushed the door forward ever-so-slightly, only until one of your eyes could see what was inside. A light flashed your eyes at first, but when you finally adjusted, you were able to see the contents of the room. 

What the fuck.

4 chained leather cuffs hung from the ceiling. Leather gloves, whips, collars, leashes, and other BDSM paraphernalia littered the floor the queen-sized-bed in the middle of the room. On each bedpost, a shorter version of the chained leather cuffs. There was a huge body mirror mounted on the wall right in front of the bed. Next to it, a large wooden dresser that was slightly ajar. 

// To be continued //

The entire series > ksdnbfesb

Chapter 2 - Diary Journal

•••••○○○○○●●●●●○○○○○•••••

HII GUYSS IT'S BEEN A WHILLEEEEE

School fucked me in the ass without lube but now that it's over I can finally write again 👹

I've been stewing ideas for the past couple of months, so stay tuned!

Comment if you wanna be added to the taglist ^^

[peaches2217]

Alright! One more post before returning to hiatus, because I've GOT to talk about the consult.

My blood pressure read astronomically high, and I admitted that I was scared to death. The nurse getting my vitals was so sweet. She led me through some deep breathing and assured me there was nothing to worry about, because I was in good hands. Her next attempt at getting my blood pressure was a little more accurate. 😅

Pretty standard from there: stripped from the waist-up, had a bunch of topless photos taken, demanded a share of the profits if they intended to upload the photos to OF or anything of the sort (admittedly I probably WOULD have made that joke, but alas, it didn't come to me until she'd already left). When she asked for my new patient paperwork, I handed her that... plus a half-inch-thick stack of papers containing my reference letters, medical records, and insurance information. I was NOT taking any chances.

A little while later, the assistant surgeon came in. She ended up not having to ask me very much, because pretty much every question she had, I had already provided an answer to via the records I printed out. She said she'd never seen a patient come in so thoroughly prepared and informed. So that's an ego booster! 😆 After that, we discussed the operation, pre- and post-op procedures, and what my procedure specifically would likely entail.

She was equally thorough (she answered about 70% of the questions I'd written down before I could even ask them!), and really personable. Apparently the very reasons my chest is such a pain to properly bind (namely that the combination of size and shapeliness makes it difficult to pass off as fat) are reasons she anticipates my surgery will be straightforward (it's easy to tell where tit ends and back fat begins), so hey, that's a plus! Since my chest is so large, she also quizzed me about complications I've faced just because of having big boobs (of which there are plenty), that way they've got one more reason to argue for my insurance to cover the surgery.

She left to go over all the paperwork I brought in, then about twenty minutes later, she came back in alongside the primary surgeon. The first thing out of his mouth: "So (assistant doctor's name) here says you're the most well-organized patient she's ever met." Today did wonders for my self-esteem. 😂

He came across as very well-informed, yet laid-back and easy to speak with. I was already pleased with what I'd learned about him through research, and his openness just served to increase my confidence in him. He proceeded to answer the other 30% of my questions before I even had a chance to ask them (and then stuff I hadn't even thought to ask), and then he discussed the process of them submitting my case to my insurance and seeking approval.

He said that approval rate is typically pretty high, but as he operates in a red state, some insurance companies put up resistance. I told him that my insurance company specifically covers GAC under specific prerequisites, and while the list of those prerecs I'd found was from another state, I'd cross-referenced and verified that my state also honors that coverage, so I didn't anticipate many issues. I told him I'd also prepared just in case there WERE issues, because the extra paperwork I handed over included the entire fifteen-page policy along with annotations referencing which OTHER papers I'd given them confirmed I met each prerec...

And before I could even finish, they both just bust out laughing. The assistant doctor clapped and told the surgeon "I told you! I told you, he did all our work for us!" For once, my neuroticism actually produced wholly positive results!

I was told when I booked my consult that I'd likely have surgery in the latter half of the year, and during my first sit-down with the assistant doctor, she estimated October or November. She turns and tells me that we can schedule it then if I need the extra time, but if I was interested, they had an opening August 5th. I said "August sounds great."

I'm just... I'm so happy. This turned out so much better than I could have hoped! The team is knowledgeable and friendly and have promised to keep me informed of developments through MyChart (where I'm also welcome to ask questions as I consider them), and it's all happening MONTHS before I was expecting it too if I was accepted. There was never even a question about accepting me, either. The nurse that took my vitals? One of the last things she did before turning it over to the doctors was give me three different business cards with her phone and fax, the assistant's, and the head surgeon's. They never planned on turning me away. 🥹

Y'all are gonna be hearing a LOT more about this once I'm fully back from hiatus, but oh my God. Thank y'all so, so much for your constant and continual support. I could NOT have made it this far without y'all! 🫂🫂🫂

[indigosunsetao3]

Chapter 7

Rainstorm

AO3 (Full list of tags/warnings. Please check them.) Masterlist 4.9k Words

Chapters 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8

The den proved to be way more than Celeste had bargained for.

It turned out that leaving it virtually uninhabited for months allowed for small issues to grow into much larger ones. When Celeste and Alice finally cracked open the door the day after the anniversary, Celeste had been immediately overwhelmed. There were boxes stacked everywhere, sheets covering the furniture to help with the dust, and it seemed that every step and glance unlocked a memory she had been trying to stuff down all year. But Alice had been there, careful to slip things out of Celeste’s sight if she saw something first, resorting once to abruptly shoving it into her shirt as Celeste came over to see what she had found.

Alice couldn’t stay forever, though. She had work to get back to, and after forcing Celeste to promise her she’d keep going through the room, she left. They had plans to get together over the summer, especially when Alice noticed that the ‘weird’ neighbors had a boat. Apparently, the thought they could go out on the lake negated any oddity factor. ‘We can just push them overboard’ was Alice’s argument. Celeste didn’t bother to correct her that she would, in fact, not be making friends, and they would still not be going out on the lake unless they swam.

“That’s not drinking water!” Celeste hissed as she shooed Samson away from the bucket that was presently collecting a leak from the ceiling.

The yellow and brown spot on the ceiling was a huge halo and water was dripping from its center at a steady pace. Celeste hadn’t even noticed until Alice stepped into a wet spot on the carpet and let out a disgusted noise as she pulled back her soaked socked foot. The leak had to have been there for weeks, and Celeste was extremely apprehensive of what she would find on the roof, the rest of the ceiling, and underneath the horrendous burnt orange carpet.

The den was the one area her husband’s mother had not been allowed to decorate. That was the ‘men’s’ area, where her husband and his dad would spend all of their time together. Hence, the horrible colored carpet. The wall color was no better, a beige that could only be described as semi burnt toast, and the furniture was a bunch of mismatched monstrosities. The whole room was out of place compared to the rest of the house, but the chaos worked together somehow.

Dumping the full bucket of water out the window Celeste quickly placed it under the drip again and sighed as she fell back on her bottom to stare up at the problem. The spring rains were torrential, as they were every year, and the water was dripping in a fast staccato. The paint was starting to bubble under the drip, and she could see the water pooling in the gap before it dropped into the old paint can she had found in the garage. No one was going to come out in this weather to fix a roof; there would be no way, and the damage was probably far worse than just a patch job.

“Tomorrow’s problem,” she muttered before looking at the rest of the problems she had to get through.

Dragging a box to her she started shuffling through it, picking out each piece and setting them into piles in a half circle around her. Keep for herself, ask his family if they wanted it, donate or trash. It was a slow process, and the room grew darker by the minute as the sun that had been behind the clouds all day started to set. She needed to get up and turn on a light, but the loose paper that seemed to have been a journal of her husband’s when he was younger caught her attention. So much so that she didn’t pay much mind to the sucking noise as the ceiling paint separated even more from the sheetrock. Nor did she hear the cracking until it was too late.

The large yellow ring had been where the ceiling finally gave way. The sheetrock tumbled down in chunks, knocking over the nearly full can of water and all over her piles of items. Tufts of insulation followed, hitting the soaked carpet in loud splats, which was also completely soaked.

“Oh shit!” Celeste yelled as she scrambled away from the mess. The water was now coming down in multiple steady streams, and it was soaking everything around, including the things she planned on keeping and boxes she hadn’t gotten to yet.

Mumbling multiple curses to herself she frantically grabbed things. She shoved them away, slipping on the wet carpet and cutting her hands and arms on some stray nails and sharp corners. Samson had abandoned ship the moment the waterfall hit, and she saw him sitting in the hallway attempting to clean himself, despite the fact he looked half drowned. Reaching for the light to better see the damage and to make sure everything was out of the way, Celeste flipped the switch. The ceiling light popped and flashed loudly before going out, and she could hear a sizzling noise. This was a much bigger problem than she thought, and now she was terrified she was going to burn the place to the ground thanks to a short in the old wiring.

Tomorrow’s problem had just turned into this moment’s catastrophe, and she needed help now. But who could she call? Nine nine nine? This wasn’t a life-threatening issue, well, at least not yet. Was there such a thing as an emergency electrician line? Roofers?

Wiping her hands on her pants, which was a mistake because they were coated in insulation, Celeste dug her phone out of her pocket and started frantically searching. The water was falling so fast she wouldn’t have been surprised if she looked through the hole and could see the sky outside. But she was too afraid to walk over to it in bare feet, her bleeding hands were enough of a deterrent for sharp objects. But there was also the fact the floor was already wet, had been wet for days, maybe weeks, what was stopping her from standing in the spot and going crashing through to the kitchen?

Even with the light off she could smell what she could only correlate to ozone, the smell when an electrical storm was about to tear apart the sky. The light was off in that room, but there was still power in her house. Her avoidance of the den was proving to be a gigantic issue and she felt the panic really settle in as she thought about how bad this was. Maybe she could call her former father-in-law and swallow the embarrassment of what she had done. But he was still hours away, and while handy, he certainly was not up to speed to handle something like this. And she was not having a man in his sixties get on a ladder in the rain.

Scrolling on her phone not really seeing what she was looking at as her mind spiraled, headlights blasted through the window making her squint a bit. Then she snapped her head up to look out the window to see her neighbors had just pulled in. They were updating and fixing their place and she knew how bad of shape their house was in. Maybe they would know what to do to at least save her place from more damage and not risk catching on fire until she was able to get someone out there.

Throwing her own rules about not making friends, or encouraging any sort of relationship with her neighbors aside from friendly waves, out the window she bolted for the stairs. Samson was still trying to clean himself, and she scooped him up in her run and deposited him in the kitchen while pulling on her tennis shoes. She left the kitchen door cracked so Samson had a way out of the place if it suddenly combusted and she ran out in the rain, not caring about a jacket. She was already soaked, covered in dirty water and bits of insulation; a jacket wasn’t going to help her.

“Hey!” She yelled as she jogged over her gravel driveway and toward the line of trees between their properties. “Hey! Ah…John?” She tried as she saw a head pop up from the boot where he had bent over to pull something out. He hadn’t been around in a few days, least she hadn’t seen this car in a while.

“Celeste?” John asked as he peered at her, reaching his hand up to close the boot. She looked a mess, the light-colored shirt she wore was soaked and stuck to her skin on her left side, and she had pink little fluffs all over her pants. But most concerning was her wide eyes and rivulets of blood on her arms.

“I know you’re just getting home,” Celeste started as she pushed her hair out of her face as the rain continued to pelt her. “Well, I don’t know that, I’m just assuming,” she continued, the voice a few octaves higher than normal, giving away the panic. “I have a small issue at home, and I was,” she huffed, turning to look back at the house to make sure it in fact was not on fire or half the roof wasn’t caved in. “My den had a leak apparently, and it’s really bad,” she tried to explain before stopping herself from rubbing her eyes where water had run in them, her hands still having little fiberglass pieces on them. “And I turned on the light, and something popped.”

John blinked a few times as he listened to her explain, sounding like she was two steps away from hysterical babble. She looked frantic as she kept glancing over her shoulder to her house before back to him, hands fidgeting for something to hold in her panic.

“Let me put this inside,” John said calmly, raising his duffle to indicate what ‘this’ was. “Then I can come take a look. Why don’t you come in and get out of the rain?”

“No, I need to get back, Samson,” Celeste started before forcing herself to fist her hands in her shirt to keep from touching her face. “And get this insulation off,” she muttered as she twisted to look at her house again.

“If that is insulation you need to shower,” John said suddenly as he peered at her. “And toss those clothes for that matter,” he added as he looked at her pants. “Go do that right now. I’ll be there in a moment.”

It was Celeste’s turn to blink at him. She didn’t realize how bad the insulation really could be. Did she shut the den door when she ran out? What if Samson was back up there poking around? Without another word, trusting John meant that he would be right over; she turned tail and jogged back to her place.

“Took you long enough,” Johnny greeted John from the couch as the man walked in the front door. “What were you doing out in the rain?”

“Celeste caught me,” John answered as he tossed his duffle at the stairs. “Problem at her place,” he explained, which caught Simon's attention in the kitchen.

“What kind of problem?” Simon asked as he rounded the counter, his back already stiff as if there were some threat.

“Not sure yet, some sort of roof leak,” John answered. “She said something about her lights popping, and she’s covered in insulation.”

“That’s all you,” Johnny answered as he unmuted the television and settled back down on the couch. “Simon said she’s got some leaky pipes too.”

“Downstairs bathroom,” Simon answered with a crooked grin, not bothering with his mask when they were inside with just the four of them.

“It’ll be your problem if I need help,” John answered as he grabbed a rain jacket off the hook and shrugged it on. “Where’s Kyle?”

“Here,” Kyle said from the top of the stairs as he tossed a towel over his shoulder after having just finished getting dressed from his shower. “I can go with you,” he offered, “if it’s a roof leak, you aren’t getting on a ladder.”

“And neither are you,” John countered immediately, his eyes darting to where he knew the bullet scar would be in Kyle’s shoulder under his shirt. “But I could use you anyway, she’s pretty shaken. Looks like she cut herself a bit too.”

Kyle jogged down the stairs, grabbed the first jacket he laid his hand on, and followed John out into the rain. It was coming down in buckets now, and they walked quickly through the tree line and up to the house, peering up to see if they could find any damage from the ground. Everything seemed to be in working order, but that didn’t mean anything aside from the fact that the whole thing hadn’t toppled in.

“Celeste! It’s John and Kyle,” John called as they walked in the back door and knocked their shoes against the door jam. It didn’t look as if she were too worried about mud in the house as he could see her shoe prints leading from the kitchen to the living room. She had ditched her shoes at the stairs though, and it seemed her clothes as well. At least she had listened about getting out of them as quickly as possible.

“Celeste?” John called again. He looked around at the ceilings and didn’t see any damage on the first floor. Kyle was also looking around, though he was being nosey instead of trying to be helpful. He had wandered over to her coffee table and picked up a book she had been reading.

“It’s John and Kyle. I don’t want to scare you,” John added as he heard the water cut from a shower.

“Top of the stairs, second door on the left!” Celeste yelled through her bedroom door. It was a quick shower, she didn’t even shampoo, it was just to get all the itchy insulation off. “Second door!” she emphasized because if they opened the first, they’d be walking right in on her.

“Who reads history books for fun,” Kyle muttered as he set the book back down on the coffee table before both he and John said ‘Simon’ at the same time.

Celeste pulled on the first things she could find, fighting with her sweats as her legs were still wet from her rough drying job. Her top was dirty, but it was presentable enough, and she clipped her sopping hair in a messy bun atop her head. She hadn’t addressed the scratches and one particularly deep gouge on her arm, which were still bleeding, but they could wait. She needed to get the water to stop soaking her house and probably cut the power to the den, but she had no idea which fuse it was.

“Small issue?” John asked as he stood just inside the doorway to the den and glanced up at the hole in the ceiling, bits of sheetrock dangling and barely hanging on as more rain soaked them.

“I thought saying my ceiling exploded would be too dramatic,” Celeste answered anxiously as she stood at the door, watching John and Kyle peer up at the mess and around the room at everything. They carefully avoided the most soaked spot of the rug, and Kyle toed a box to the side a bit more to make sure it was out of the splash zone.

“I think that’s an understatement at this point,” Kyle answered with a grin as he looked to John for what was next. He could tell this was going to be a job but he certainly had no idea where to start. John had been leading the way on all the renovations at their place, telling them what needed to be done and how to go about it. John’s father used to build houses so he had taught John from a young age what to do, dragging him to job sites while his friends were enjoying their weekends and summers.

“Do not turn on any lights in this room,” John warned as he circled, eyes looking at the walls and outlets to make sure he didn’t see any burn marks. “Or any of the upstairs for that matter,” he tacked on as Celeste quickly swiped off the hallway light. “Until we can get into the attic and see what’s what.”

“The breaker is downstairs, but I wasn’t sure what to pull,” Celeste answered as she clamped her left hand over the cut on her right arm to stem the bleeding. The sting of the injury was finally starting to set in but she just pressed harder to numb it. “If you can just tell me which one I can do it…then I guess I can get some totes to collect water and toss them out every few hours overnight.”

“We can tarp off the roof,” John stated as he looked at Kyle who was staring at him. “Rain isn’t letting up any time soon.”

“Johnny can climb on the roof,” Kyle stated as he dug his phone out of his pocket. “He won’t melt.”

“I don’t want you all-” Celeste started as Kyle walked over to a window to talk to Johnny on the phone. “I can call someone tomorrow to come out and look at all the damage. I just wanted to make sure I would survive the night without having to worry about the roof coming in.”

“We can help with that,” John stated simply. “Some of it may be out of my hands but I can at least look at it in the daylight and make sure no one tries to rip you off,” he offered. “Show me where the breaker is then let Kyle patch that up.” He nodded toward her arms where she had marks all over them.

Back downstairs Celeste let Samson out of the laundry room now that she felt a bit safer about a fire and showed John where the breaker was. He was already on his phone scrolling, looking up different items, and asking Celeste things about the house for verification. Most of them she didn’t know, such as when it was last wired, what year the roof was put in, and where the attic access was, among other things. Those were all her husband’s knowledge, and the more she said ‘I don’t know’, the worse she felt.

“It’s fine, he’ll figure it out,” Kyle stated as he picked up on Celeste’s face falling with each question. “He probably doesn’t need to know half those things anyway,” he tacked on, leveling John with a look that told him to shut his mouth. “Let’s see that arm.”

As Kyle tended to her arm, carefully wiping away the blood and picking through Celeste’s meager first aid kit, Johnny and Simon showed up at the backdoor. The kitchen had always felt like it was a decent size, enough for company to gather and talk. But now it felt small and cramped with all of them in there. Perhaps it was because the four men were all large and could probably count as two men each with their size. It also didn’t help that she was sitting at the table feeling like a useless child as Kyle wrapped her arm.

“I really didn’t mean for you all to have to come over,” Celeste muttered as Johnny wiped his hand through his mohawk, and bits of water flew off. “I’m going to get someone out here first thing to take care of it. I promise you don’t need to feel like…”

“It’s not a problem,” Johnny answered with a grin. “I’ll never hear the end of it from John anyway. He’ll fret all night about you if we leave you alone with this ‘fucking implosion,’ as Kyle described it.”

“Go be useful and get a ladder and the tarp,” John huffed as he slid his phone out from his ear, ending whatever phone call he had just made.

“I’ve got one in the garage,” Celeste stated, “it’s in working shape…unlike the rest of my stuff it seems.”

“Already have the tarp,” Simon said as he gestured to the bright blue item on the counter, along with rope and bungee cords. “Our roof had a leak when we first moved in,” he explained as Celeste stared at it curiously. “And give me my jacket if I’m going back out in this,” Simon tacked on as he held his hand out to Kyle for it.

As Johnny and Simon stepped back out into the rain and John went back upstairs, Celeste let out a sigh and slumped into her chair. The last thing she wanted was to put them all out like this. But now she had four men assisting her and she knew she was going to feel obligated to pay them back somehow. Be a friendlier neighbor and get to know them, as Alice had instructed her to do. Shit, Alice was going to have an absolute field day when she heard about all of this.

“Don’t let John fool you,” Kyle stated as he took his seat again and watched Celeste. “He loves this stuff. It’s not work to him.”

“It feels like work. And favors, lots of favors, that I won’t be able to repay,” Celeste answered as Samson pawed at her for dinner. The disaster was nothing in his little mind compared to getting his food. “And if one of them gets hurt on the roof or falls off in this rain,” she stated, suddenly sitting up straighter as if she were going to go outside and tell them to stop right then and there.

“Helping someone doesn’t require payback,” Kyle answered lightly as Celeste seemed to mull over a million different scenarios in her head. “Johnny has fallen and busted his head more than once,” he joked as Celeste glanced over at him, eyes still a bit of a deer in headlights. “They’ll be fine. Climbing on roofs in the rain is the least hazardous thing they’ve done in a while.”

With a sigh, needing a moment to breathe, Celeste went into the pantry to find Samson his food. He was hot on her heels as she pulled down the container of kibble, and she popped it open to find it empty. Pushing up on her tiptoes, she looked on the shelf for the bag; sure, she just hadn’t poured the rest out into the green tub, but there was none, not even a stray piece of food on the shelf.

“Shit,” Celeste groaned, feeling as if everything were just piling on her. This is what she got for putting things off all the time. For coming home and always saying ‘tomorrow’. It was one thing not to feed herself, but to miss getting Samson's food was a whole other. Looking at the clock on the stove, she knew she would not get to the store in time, and Samson meowed pitifully as he wound between her legs.

“I’m sorry, buddy,” Celeste stated as she felt the tears finally well up. He looked at her expectantly. “I forgot to,” she huffed wiping at her face with the back of her hands. “I’ll have to find you something else.” She hiccupped as she looked at the shelves with bleary eyes trying to find something she could feed him. The weight of everything was bearing down on her and forgetting a bag of cat food was apparently going to be her tipping point.

Kyle was doing his best to give Celeste a second, contemplating going upstairs to help John, when he heard the hiccup. He turned instantly in his chair to look back at her and saw her with her head rested on a shelf, doing her best to keep herself quiet. He rose from the chair instantly and was at her side at the pantry as Samson continued to yowl at their feet.

“Hey,” Kyle said softly as he came to her side and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Hey, it’s alright,” he coaxed as she turned her face to him. Her eyes were still brimming with tears and he knew she was barely hanging on by a thread. “I’m sure we could convince Simon to get a bit of chicken. I think he carries it in his pockets for the little guy. He’s always hanging around back when Simon’s out,” he joked as Samson took to half climbing on the shelf to beg.

“No, I can’t ask for more,” Celeste started before Samson gave the most pitiful meow yet, as if he were withering away. “Damn it,” she groaned as the tears spilled over and down her cheeks. “My house is falling apart; I can barely take care of myself and now I have to ask my neighbors for food to feed my cat. Because I am failing. At everything.” The overwhelming feeling that she had been fighting was starting to bubble over and she could feel the anxiety pushing at the seams.

“You’re not,” Kyle answered firmly as he ducked down a bit to get on her eye level. “You’re doing things alone, which is hard,” he affirmed as she avoided his gaze. He wasn’t about to tell her he knew just what was haunting her, so he stuck with what he was supposed to actually know. “A leaking roof and a hungry cat are hardly signs of a failure,” he continued as she trembled, fighting so hard to not cry in front of him and put on a brave face.

He could see the walls starting to go up behind Celeste’s eyes, that she was about to stuff down all the emotion and then cry alone to herself later as she probably did often. Just the thought of her curled up in her bed sobbing made Kyle’s chest physically ache. Before he asked, or she could pull away, he tugged her into a hug. It was quick and strong as he pulled her to his chest, and surprisingly, she didn’t lurch back. She sagged into him, and he squeezed a bit tighter as she buried her face into his chest and cried, her hands wrapping around him and holding on almost as tightly as he was to her.

Celeste knew she would regret this in about five minutes, but at the moment it felt too good to pass up. She couldn’t remember the last time she had fallen apart around someone and been held, comforted, like this. Alice was one thing but Celeste would be lying if she didn’t say Kyle was different. This felt safe, it felt reassuring, strong, and warm, and all the things she missed about her husband. His steady presence, his unwavering optimism, and his ability to fend off the fears and stress in her life by just holding her. And as the thoughts of her husband washed over her, and how she wouldn’t get to feel that with him again, she clung harder to Kyle.

Kyle remained quiet as Celeste sobbed, one hand rubbing soothing circles on her upper back. He could still hear John moving around upstairs and the guys messing with the ladder. He silently thanked whoever was listening for giving them a few minutes of privacy. He knew the minute one of the other guys came in the moment would be over. And judging by how Celeste was gasping, she needed this release, a few minutes of falling apart where someone would be there to keep her grounded.

When she quieted a bit and let go of her white knuckle grip on his shirt, Kyle leaned toward the kitchen table and grabbed a napkin. He didn’t let go of her fully though, careful to let her to decide when to step back. Kyle knew if he was the first to push away, she’d question it later, be embarrassed, or any of the other million things that went on inside of her head. He had managed to get through one of her barriers, he wasn’t about to let her reinforce them.

“Here,” he said quietly, looking to the side to give her a second to compose her face. His shirt was soaked from her tears, but he didn’t acknowledge it as she wiped her eyes and nose. “Don’t,” he added as Celeste opened her mouth, ready with an apology and explanations. “This wasn’t a favor or anything you need to repay. No need to explain yourself either,” he smiled down at her, and she gave him a very weak one back.

“Thanks,” Celeste said quietly as she looked up at the ceiling to try to rein in the tears. The look of sympathy on Kyle’s face and perhaps a deep understanding of what she was feeling almost made her fall apart again. But he wasn’t giving her the belittling pity that she’d come to expect from strangers. It was recognition. As if he knew her suffering ran deeper than a collapsed ceiling and lack of groceries; what the true catalyst for her crumbling was.

While her husband’s death wasn’t a secret, it was easy to look up online, she couldn’t help but wonder how he did know. And what else had he figured out about her?

[ashlgcostumes]

I wrote this elsewhere for someone who was struggling to find information, and then realised it was probably relevant to many other people too, so I’ve expanded it a bit. Therefore I present;

Which boning do I want? A guide

Flat steel; flat steel flexes front and back, not side to side. Heaviest option. Pricy. Difficult to cut and finish (will tear holes in your project if you leave raw edges). Expect bolt cutters and a metal file, or faffing around with “tipping liquid” which may or may not be illegal to post in your country (Nail polish is only a temporary alternative in my experience). Will last a million years. Extremely robust shaping. If you want to hold up an entire garment on 3 bones; flat steel. DO NOT WASH (I’m not your real dad but also it does corrode eventually if you keep getting/leaving it wet)

Lot of people swear that even if you use different bones everywhere else, you want flat steel next to your eyelets. Personally; eh. This appears to be convention rather than based in solid evidence (bunch of extant Victorian corsets don’t have steel by the eyelets, some do, a lot we don’t actually know). Go with your heart and your wallet, especially for special occasion pieces

Spiral steel: flexes side to side as well as front to back. Lighter than flats (in theory). Pretty robust and long lived. Easier to cut than flat (still metal, still bolt cutters), but made of wire, basically, so you have to buy metal end caps and fit every single one with pliers. Cheaper than flat steel. Generally agreed to be more comfortable than flat steel but again. Still metal. DO NOT WASH NO REALLY I MEAN IT THIS TIME this stuff loves corrosion

A lot of modern corsets are a mix of flat and spiral and they will tell you that’s for flexibility but it’s usually for budget

Zip ties: cheap and they work, pretty much, but mainly cheap, extremely variable in thickness/size/flexibility, did I mention cheap? Don’t buy random ones online; you want to handle them and be sure they’re the size/rigidity you’re after (or even just feel good about. Some zip ties are incredibly flimsy. Heavy duty ones tend to also be thicc). Generally washable, but with highly variable results

Rigilene/other generic plastic boning: wafers of flimsy plastic. Surprisingly expensive and won’t hold up to a stiff breeze. Disappointment city. Washing sometimes also kills it? When people whine about plastic boning, this is what they’re thinking of

“Synthetic whalebone”: really fancy plastic. Consistent width/thickness/rigidity. Several options of width usually. Very light. Good balance of support and flexibility. Can cut with heavy duty scissors and finish with a nail file. Mouldable with heat. You gotta buy a lot at once, but not ultimately expensive in comparable amounts (big rolls, per metre, more cost effective than heavy duty zip ties; but are you gonna use 50 metres of boning?). Washable in a way steel just isn’t; must warn you that the whole “mouldable with heat” thing also means “very occasionally the tumble dryer kills one of my kirtles and I have to dig out a bone and replace it”

Synthetic whalebone means adjusting the way you think about boning a bit; one bone is not as strong as a flat steel. That doesn’t mean (as I’ve seen some people say) you can’t use synthetic whalebone if you’re fat; it means you’re going to want two, three or four bones side by side to do the same job. This is exactly what people did with real whalebone (good lord if you’re making 18th century stays or equivalent don’t use steel, it’ll be so heavy and uncomfortable). You can even put two bones in the same channel stacked on top of each other if you make it big enough. You tend to use more of it than you would steel, but it still usually works out cheaper - the “extra boning” channels thing only really comes into play for aesthetics (it is COMPLETELY FINE to pick the more expensive and difficult option for aesthetics and anyone who tells you otherwise is a coward)

[goblincow]

Dragonmeet was a blast.

Everyone's lovely. Got to chat with Luke Gearing for ages (whose shoes I tiptoe in on the daily, Melsonia's Fever Swamp was the second TTRPG book I ever bought) and with Melsonia's Andrew Walter (The Weird That Befell Drigbolton was the first TTRPG book I ever bought and we've been emailing for 4 years while working on TPPAPPOP) and so many other really brilliant folks.

I got to finally meet @anarcutie (we don't just exist on the internet isn't that wild) and a bunch of other usernames I've been orbiting for years, and catch up with all the ones I met for the first time last year.

It's such a brilliant indie ttrpg space full of really enthusiastic knowledge sharing and advice, being in the real world is just magical, but I'm also conscious that many people don't have access to a space like that and I want to bring back some of the nuggets of wisdom I gleaned.

I took *so many* notes to write up, probably in my newsletter but as I type I'm thinking about reaching out to the other tumblr users who attended and maybe we can figure out how to do a little shared write up of talks or panels we want to share lessons from?

My big takeaway though: making Indie TTRPGs and getting them into people's hands is so doable!

You *can* make games in a way that works for you, publishers/distributors/retailers all want you to polish and show off your weirdest stuff, there are people who want to support you and figure out what you need to make it happen, and they've all long since accepted that it's DIY for life.

Whatever shape the write up takes it'll also be shared in this space once it's done, and if that sounds remotely interesting to you it's definitely worth hopping in there if you're not already (it's quite lively but not overwhelming):

Other notes from dragonmeet:

The uniform of game designers is overwhelmingly a pair of vans or docs and I reckon if we collectively say it with enough gusto we can absolutely file our nice shoes as business expenses.

Additionally, there is a massive oversaturation of Joshes, Chrises and Matts so I propose that anyone entering the scene with those names needs to change at least one letter (not including me tho I'm last in under my own non-arbitrary cutoff don't worry about it).

And check out these goodies. I traded for most of the small stuff & Melsonia insisted on shoving the entire stack of books at the back into my bag (they're good people but my shoulders disagree).

[staleclown]

Uncanny Excess-Chapter 2: Become Human

https://archiveofourown.org/works/65418583/chapters/168559930

TW: verbal harassment, mild language, mild violence and blood :P

A/N: also disclaimer going forward!! be forewarned that all throughout this fic I will be taking insane amounts of canon-diverging creative liberties. Also I’ve never been to Detroit, I quite literally googled “downtown Detroit street names” so any Michiganders out there, I’m sorry. I write this stuff for fun and for free so I’m gonna do what I want with it. Okay luv y’all enjoy :3

TEN MONTHS LATER:

“Lieutenant, this is your new partner, Detective Stern.” Fowler slapped said detective on the back a little harder than strictly necessary, and he stumbled a step forward in Hank’s direction.

If Hank were asked to describe the bright-eyed kid in front of him in a single word, he’d be forced to go with dorky. The kid’s immaculate manner of dress—from the woolen peacoat over a spotless white oxford to the dark leather dress shoes it looked like he shined every morning—made Hank feel unusually self-conscious in his raggedy old coat and wrinkled jeans. And, to be frank, the last thing Hank had expected when he was dragged into Fowler’s office upon his arrival was a new partner.

”You can call me Connor. It’s nice to meet you, Lieutenant,” the rookie—Connor—piped, offering his hand.

Hank shook it begrudgingly. “Whatever, kid, just don’t screw up my work.”

”What work?” Fowler asked gruffly. “You never do a damn thing I ask.”

“I could,” Hank grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose. It was too early in the morning and he was too hungover for this.

Fowler just shook his head. “Anyway, you two are assigned with the onslaught of property damage reports we keep getting. Stacks and stacks of ‘em, all related to busted-up androids.”

A muscle in Connor’s jaw twitched, and Hank figured the kid had probably been hoping for something more interesting as his first case. His new partner stood with his hands politely behind his back and perfect posture, nothing besides that one little movement implying any sort of emotion towards their assignment at all. Hank wasn’t exactly pleased, himself.

“Oh, hell no! You stick me with a rookie and then I have to ‘investigate’ those blue blood bastards getting beat to a pulp?!” Hank shouted.

“Come on, Hank. It’s a whole series of vandalism throughout the city, just like break-ins or thefts. I’m not asking you to petition to deem them as assaults.”

”Maybe the assholes had it coming, Jeffrey, you ever think of that? That group of them has been a pain in the ass for everyone recently.”

Hank looked to Connor, hoping that his new partner would at least share the sentiment and back him up. This couldn’t have been an ideal assignment for him either. Hank was self-aware enough to know he’d be a shit partner, and the case was hardly anything difficult, he assumed it was just a bunch of dumbass teens vandalizing stuff like they always did. But Connor’s only reaction was a slight furrow in his brow, and Hank thought that if the kid clamped his jaw any tighter, he’d snap one of his pearly white teeth.

“Listen. I don’t care how you feel about the case. I just need it solved, or you’ll be out of a job.”

Hank could have gone further, would have gone further, if Connor hadn’t spoken first. “You can leave it to us, Captain.”

Fowler looked to Connor. “I’ve heard promising things about you, Stern. You rocketed through the ranks faster than anyone else in the history of this department. Don’t disappoint me.”

Connor nodded. “Yes sir.”

”Get out of my office, both of you. It wouldn’t kill you to do some work for once, Anderson.”

Connor, ever eager to please, was quick to the door, and as Hank followed him out, he gave Fowler a certain rude gesture, courtesy of his middle finger.

By the time Hank had shut Fowler’s door following his indignant shout, an entirely different kind of commotion was occurring in the bullpen. Hank didn’t exactly like the kid, but watching Connor stand with his hands held up placatingly as he struggled to pacify Reed—who was shouting at him—did make him feel something like sympathy. Hank knew better than to wonder what Connor had already done to upset Gavin, but knowing the latter, anything could have set him off, including Connor’s tendency to exist.

“I don’t know who you think you are, but you sure as hell don’t have any right to get in my way,” Reed snarled.

Connor’s voice was calm as he replied, though his expression was nothing short of bewildered. “I apologize, Detective Reed, I’ll pay more attention to where I’m going in the future.”

That was the wrong thing to say. In one fell swoop, Reed shoved Connor against the wall and pinned him there with his forearm. Connor grunted at the initial impact, his skull cracking against the wall, but didn’t fight back.

”Are you mocking me, rookie? Because if you are, I’ll make sure you get stuck on tin-can duty for the rest of your life.”

Connor managed to tilt his head in confusion, even with Gavin’s ulna against his throat. “Tin-can duty?”

He scoffed. “Yeah. You’ll never make it out of all those stupid, waste-of-time android cases.”

Connor’s face darkened at that, giving Reed such a malicious look that even Hank had to admit was kind of intimidating. Connor must be a sympathizer. Hank huffed as he realized that must be the real reason for Connor being on this case. Of course his new partner had to side with the cold, unfeeling monsters that had killed his son.

”Reed!” Fowler’s voice boomed from across the room. Gavin turned, stepping away from Connor, although not before slamming him hard into the wall for a second time.

As soon as Gavin was away from him and being thoroughly chewed out by the police chief, Connor exhaled, perfect posture slumping as some of the tension left his frame. He tried to ignore all the eyes on him as he smoothed his collar and straightened his tie, the familiar movement comforting. He sank into his desk chair, grateful that he had turned off his blushing software, and only after everyone turned away did he finally bring a hand to the back of his head. He hadn’t received any thirium loss warnings, but the lingering effects of the momentary jostle to his gyroscope wasn’t exactly pleasant.

Connor logged into the computer in front of him, like a human would, though his instinct was to interface with it. He tried not to think about how Fowler had phrased the string of assaults as “property damage,” Hank’s outrage at being assigned the case, or the entire ordeal with Detective Reed. He was failing spectacularly. He knew the situation between androids and humans were tense from the news articles he was able to pull from the internet, and from his six months speeding through the police academy, but the three back-to-back incidents in the DPD before 11 a.m. wasn’t exactly what he had been expecting.

Some of his frustration must have shown on his face, because when Connor glanced up following a sudden feeling of being watched, his eyes met Hank’s.

”You okay?”

”Just fine, Lieutenant, thank you.” Connor hoped there wouldn’t be any follow-up questions.

”Listen, don’t worry about Reed. He’s an ass.”

”I am not worried about Detective Reed.”

Hank cocked an eyebrow. “Right. Well, if it’s a quiet morning, how about we take an early lunch?”

”Shouldn’t we be spending our time on this case? These files are somewhat more complex than what I was anticipating.” Page after page was filled with gruesome photos and descriptions that made Connor’s artificial stomach turn. The longer they took on solving this case, the more of his people that could be hurt and killed. But, of course, he couldn’t tell Hank that.

“The files aren’t goin’ anywhere. Besides, they’re not murders. Property damage can wait.”

Connor swallowed down the defense clawing its way up his throat. “I know, it’s just that—“

He was interrupted by the obnoxious ring of the phone in his pocket. There were so many things he had acquired to keep up appearances—the watch on his right wrist, the metal water bottle on his desk, the light blue coffee mug in the department’s kitchen, and finally, the smartphone he was holding to his ear—even though he had an internal clock, didn’t require hydration the way humans did, and had the capacity to answer and dial calls from his CPU. Admittedly, it was all somewhat annoying to have to keep up with, and he was beginning to understand how humans were always losing seemingly important items.

”Detective Stern, DPD,” he answered as he glanced back at Hank, who hadn’t even bothered to feign interest in the call. “Uh-huh. Right. We’ll be right there.”

As Connor hung up the phone, he could feel Hank’s eyes on him again. “Looks like you won’t get the slow morning you wanted, Lieutenant. We’re needed on West Lafayette.”

————————

Connor stood deep in thought in the midst of the crime scene. A mangled android lay sprawled unnaturally across the pavement of the alleyway, thirium staining much of the surrounding area. He could tell, with his superior vision, that the stains had been much larger, but had started evaporating. However, from Hank’s reaction, a lot of the thirium was still visible to the human eye.

“Well, whoever called it in must have either been a bystander or happened upon the scene shortly after the crime,” Connor relayed as he knelt next to the android, digging out the latex gloves in his coat pocket and pulling them over his hands. He didn’t have fingerprints to leave, but the last thing he wanted was to be accused of tampering with a crime scene.

“How can you tell?” Hank asked, grimacing as Connor gingerly titled the android’s head to get a look at its LED.

“Thirium evaporates after a few hours.”

”What?”

“Y’know, ‘blue blood.’” Connor lifted his hands away from the android momentarily to punctuate the phrase with air quotes. He turned his attention back to the android. He couldn’t be completely sure of its model without a test of its thirium, but he couldn’t exactly use his built-in forensics lab with Hank watching. He settled for using his visual scanners, tipping the android this way and that intermittently so it would look like he came to the conclusion by observation and not the database supplied by his processors.

He glanced over his shoulder quickly, finding Hank preoccupied with lamely nudging a crumpled tin can with his foot, and the cops at the other end of the alleyway engrossed in conversation. Quickly, he dabbed his first two fingers of his right hand in the rapidly-evaporating thirium and lifted them to his mouth, swiping the substance on his tongue. He pulled his hand away from his mouth as fast as possible and clamped his jaw shut, pretending to study the remnants of the substance on his glove as the analysis scrolled across his vision.

Aha. “An AX700.”

”English, Stern.”

”She’s a model designed to be a housekeeper.”

”’She?’”

”’It,’ whatever,” Connor conceded, although it sent a pang of guilt through his chest. “Regardless, this is a domestic android. When we get back to the precinct, I’ll take a look at the files and see if the same model has been reported as stolen recently.” Connor’s database told him this android had, in fact, been recently reported missing, but he’d have to go about this the agonizingly slow human way.

“Okay, well, let’s get goin’, then. I’m freezing my ass off.”

Connor stood, peeling off the latex gloves before dusting off the knees of his dark wash jeans. “Yes, Lieutenant.”

[blackjackkent]

All right! We have reached a Significant Moment.

Turns out we don't get to meet Antoine and Evka just yet, because about five separate people have warned me that this is a point of no return quest, so we have some other stuff to clear out first.

Currently on my to-do list I have a couple region quests I'm explicitly underleveled for, a bunch of gift-giving, and Caterina's funeral. The research I've done and guidance I've been given suggests that the main thing to clear out here is Caterina's funeral and anything else relating to the set of Treviso questlines, so we're going to go do that next, and then I'm gonna maybe do a little bit more map exploration. And then probably Tuesday we will go forward with A Warden's Best Friend.

If anyone has any suggestions for other sidequests I haven't picked up that I need to do right now immediately, please let me know!

For now, quick stops around the Lighthouse. I was going to wait and try to give everyone their gifts together, but turns out they're just automatically gifted when we go talk to them atm, and Neve has a new quest to pick up. Anyway, it turns out that the gift-giving "quests" are literally one line of thank-you dialogue and a shot of the gift in its new home:

Bellara gets an elven frog statuette.

Neve gets some "collected evidence" from a local legend in Dock Town that she likes to chase.

Lucanis gets an Antivan tea set .

-----

We also get another super cute interaction between Bellara and Neve (and Helena), with Bellara coming into Neve's office this time.

(IDK if these scenes between Bellara and Neve always happen or if it's specifically because they're Helena's standard party right now, but either way I love it. :D )

"This was with my things," she says eagerly, placing an envelope on Neve's desk. "It looks like your handwriting." A pause. "I didn't read it," she adds quickly. "Well, a couple words. I thought it might be one of mine. I don't even know how it got there."

Neve chuckles. "It's the wisps. I need more wards," she says wryly.

"Oh!" Bellara brightens. "I can help with that!"

Neve tries to wave away the offer of assistance. "I started this," she says. "I'll deal with it."

Helena grins, leaning against the desk with her hip. "Solas lived here. The Dread Wolf," she points out. "It was gonna have quirks."

Neve rolls her eyes. "Solas is the worst tenant I've followed," she quips. "And that's saying something."

There's a sudden burst of magic almost at her elbow, and a sheaf of paper goes flying into the air like confetti.

"Maybe they like you?" Helena offers teasingly. Neve sighs, rubbing at her temple.

Bellara immediately scampers across the room to start collecting the fallen papers... and in so doing finds a small medallion underneath them which has also fallen to the floor.

"Do you follow the Chantry?" she asks Neve curiously. "I noticed it's Andrastian."

Neve smiles tiredly. "I barely follow the holidays," she murmurs. "It's from an old job."

"Ooh, which one?" Bellara asks eagerly. "Maybe I read about it in a Tevinter paper."

"I'm barely in the papers."

"Oh but when you are, it's on the edge of something exciting." Bellara bounces a little on the balls of her feet as she shuffles the papers into an orderly stack and sets them on the desk. "What about that one story with the demon, the diamond, and the deadbeat magister? Oh, they mentioned you twice!"

(A/N: I love her, your honor.)

Neve's smile flickers a little. She takes the medallion from Bellara and carefully sets it back down on the desk again. "That was a hit piece," she says.

Helena smiles commiseratingly. The Dragons are occasionally in the papers by name (she's been in there a grand total of once), and it's never particularly complimentary. "Of course," she says. "Do the papers write anything else?"

"They write what sells," Neve says with a shrug. "But their aim was at the magister, not me. The real trick with that job was the client ratting me out to the demon..."

"What?" Helena blinks.

Neve chuckles again. "It's always something. Funny how that didn't make the print." She squints at Bellara sidelong. "Tell me you read the rest of the paper too."

Bellara laughs brightly. "Oh, yes! Sometimes they have these stories - serials? They're thrilling. Except they come out in pieces. I only see a few papers a year; I never know how the stories end!"

Helena almost makes a sardonic joke at this moment - Tevinter, in her experience, isn't a place where light and gentle stories get much traction. But... this is Bellara she's talking to, not one of the street-hardened Dragon veterans. So she deliberately holds back, changes her tone. "Happily ever after," she says. "Why not, right?"

There's a strange, knowing look in Neve's eyes as she grins. "Aren't you some sunshine?"

"Some Shadows are optimists," Helena says, a little defensively.

"I hope you're right," Bellara says happily.

Neve chuckles again. "All right, Bel. You get me the name of your serial, I'll try and track the ending. No promise on the happy part."

Bellara's eyes widen to the size of dinner plates. "That's fine!"

"I'd like to go back anyway," Neve adds. "Spend time in Dock Town, pick up gossip."

Helena perks up eagerly, as she does at any mention of returning to her city. "Want company?"

"Why not?" Neve says. "Ready to go when you are."

(A/N: Well that was cute as fuck. XD This gives us another side quest to go back to Dock Town with Neve, so we'll do that before AWBF as well. :D )

[effervescentbee]

More punkflower rambles because the panic still hasn't set in

So miles likes to draw his crushes, right? He'll fill his sketchbooks with just that person and draw them on walls while doing graffiti, but what if him drawing his crushes didn't end at that?

We've all drawn on a school paper or in our notebooks at least once, just absentmindedly doodling while the teacher talks and stuff. So, what if miles drew Hobie on his assignments in class?

What if, before he met Hobie and still had a crush on Gwen she would be the person who he constantly drew on his assignments. His teachers would recognize her since she briefly went to the school and in the teachers lounge they would sometimes bring it up

They'd be like "you know that miles kids? Yeah, the one that draws Gwen all the time" and it was just common knowledge between the teachers that it wasn't possible to grade an assignment of his without seeing a Gwen drawing

Then miles disappears for a few days while the whole spot thing is happening and when he gets back he has a mountain of work to catch up on. By this time he doesn't have a crush on Gwen anymore so when he turns all his work in it's without any Gwen drawings

The teachers are a bit shocked by this but ignore it and assume it's because he had so much work and couldn't afford to waste a single second

Then a days go by and the lack of Gwen drawing is really bizarre to them. They talk about it a bit in the teachers lounge but they don't do much cause it isn't their place to be interrogating him about his love life

Then miles begins drawing Hobie on his school work. The teachers are again shocked and once again talk a bit about it. It quickly becomes the new normal to see drawings on Hobie everywhere on his assignments

One day there would be a 'new student' roaming the halls. The teachers see him the first day he arrives and don't pay any attention to him because he isn't in any of their classes

They get suspicious when they realize that they see this kid inconsistently and they've never seen him go into a class, they only see him at lunch hanging out with Miles or in the halls

They then realize that he's the guy miles has been drawing and that he's not supposed to be at the school at all.

Once they realize this that they can't just let them wander into the school whenever he wants because safety issues and stuff so every week there's a chase for Hobie by the security guards

Miles of course gets interrogated about this cause he obviously knows Hobie but he refuses to say anything and insists he doesn't know him

Then one day security catch Hobie and bring miles into the office and interrogate them again but they both deny knowing each other

The principal then pulls out a box full of miles classwork that has drawings of Hobie and so they're caught

And Hobie is shocked and forever teases miles about that and miles is threatened by the school with detention and a call home if they catch Hobie at school again

Ngl I wrote all that just because the idea of the principal placing a stack of papers with a bunch of Hobie drawing Infront of miles and Hobie is so funny to me

I went into this with only the goal of incorporating that part and Ive just been going on and on about the first thing that pops into my mind and this probably makes no sense

[fivenightsatfreddysfanfiction]

Memory of Mementos

“Y’know, you’re supposed to at least look like you’re having fun playing these games,” Cassie sighed, juggling the wooden ball in her hand as she gauged her next toss. Her eyes glanced furtively over at Gregory, mouth twitching into a matching frown when the grim scowl remained on the boy’s face. “When’d you get so sour over this? You used to get a kick out of beating my scores,” she added. He remained silent, folding his tickets into a stack, and Cassie sighed again. “This is about those weird prizes, isn’t it?” she asked quietly.

“I got an old security camera tablet, Mr. Schmidt’s name tag from when he worked for Freddy’s a long time ago, and the hard drive for a Chica that doesn’t have Afton’s personality programming but has fingerprints of the same kind of coding that’s in Freddy,” Gregory grumbled under his breath, just loud enough for Cassie to hear but not travel further than the two of them. “I don’t know what’s going on, but that stupid puppet thing keeps giving me this old stuff, or at least pointing to where to go to get it, and there’s gotta be a reason for it, right?” He looked over at her, an uncertainty in his eyes that made his frown look all the grimmer.

“Maybe you’re supposed to give it to Afton Robotics? Or Fazbear Entertainment?” Cassie suggested with a shrug, rolling her ball and watching it coast over the felt lane and fly up into a hole for another fifty points to her score. Still short compared to Gregory’s; the tickets printed out in a long ribbon. “All that stuff was from the Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza that used to be here, but got sealed up behind that wall or was hidden in the Egg Baby. You’re an Afton, so maybe you’re supposed to give that stuff to your family’s company?” she finished and collected her tickets, counting them up with a grin. A little bit more and she’d be able to afford the custom Circus Baby lunchbox set. It’d be a great collectable to add to her dad’s collection. Once he came home, he’d be happy to see something new to collect.

“I dunno. That doesn’t feel like what I’m meant to do with ‘em,” Gregory replied, folding his arms over his chest as he watched her fold her tickets up like he usually did. “If these are supposed to go to Fazbear Entertainment, why were they hidden like this? Sealed up behind that wall or stashed inside the Egg Baby? Miss Corbett says she bought a bunch of the stuff in here from some weird catalogues that came from her pizzeria start up package, so she probably doesn’t know about the puppet thing and the Egg Baby acting like this.”

The two of them left the skee-ball games to let another group of kids have their turn, walking towards the prize counter to see what they’d be able to get. Cassie let her gaze wander over to the Egg Baby as they passed it, watching as a boy and his mother fed a few tickets into a slot on the animatronic. The eyes swept back and forth as usual and didn’t change at all, even as the smaller Egg Baby in its stomach slid out and popped open the red ball it held to display an assortment of plastic toys and clear goodie bags full of sweets.

She hummed and then looked ahead to the security puppet. It was present at the counter, lifted up from its box to be taller as it held out a hand to collect tickets from a teenager to trade for a prize. The teen pointed out the large foam dart rifle and the puppet closed its hand over the tickets before turning in place to stretch an arm to near impossible lengths to grab the rifle and bring it down. With the exchange complete, the teen walked off with a happy grin and the puppet descended into the box to deposit the tickets before resuming its position at the counter.

“Nobody else gets that weird treatment with their trades,” Cassie pointed out with a blink of realization, “What makes you so special? Is it because you’re an Afton?”

Gregory clicked his tongue in irritation as they reached the counter. “Better not be cuz of that,” he groused and rubbed his head when Cassie gave him a questioning look, “Uh, I’ll tell you later.”

They reached the counter and the security puppet looked first at Cassie and her tickets. She quickly shoved them into her pocket and the puppet turned its attention to Gregory. She held her breath, watching curiously as Gregory held up his folded stack of tickets. The puppet held out its hand to accept them, spindly fingers carefully closing over them once Gregory placed them in its palm. It stood still for a moment, then descended into the box to tuck them away.

“It didn’t wait for you to point at anything from the prizes? It waits for everyone else,” Cassie muttered, rubbing her chin thoughtfully.

“Yeah, it does that every time,” Gregory agreed with a nod, “First time it happened, you thought I broke it, remember?” His eyes narrowed a bit. “It kinda seems like it was thinking about what to give me. Like there’s a pre-programmed list of ‘prizes’ it’s supposed to give me specifically,” he remarked.

“But you’ve never been here before that field trip, right?” Cassie asked in confusion, “And Circus Baby’s Pizza and Parties got these animatronics ages ago.. so how did they get programmed to react to you back then when you never met them?”

Gregory scowled, eyes darting back and forth as he turned that over in his head. “That’s.. a really good question,” he agreed slowly.

The puppet had risen from its box again, staring at Gregory until the two kids turned their attentions back to it. Only then did it raise a hand to point at the far wall of the pizzeria, or rather the large vent grille that Gregory had crawled through last time the puppet had pointed into the distance.

“Fuck my life, you want me to go over there?! Again?!” he complained, throwing up his hands in exasperation, “Nobody cleans over there! It’s full of dust and crap. Do you want me to pick up an allergy or something?!”

“Oh, so that’s why you disappeared on me,” Cassie sighed, adjusting her backpack straps, “I remember you vanishing for a while and scaring me half to death. Guess we’ll have to search the other side of the wall for something?” Gregory gave her a pained expression before groaning in frustration, turning on his heel, and stomping off. She quickly chased after him, determined to follow where he went so he wouldn’t disappear on her again.

She wasn’t going to lose yet another person just because they left her sight for too long...

.

----------------

.

The grate on the other end of the tunnel shook a few times from repeated kicks before finally popping off to hit the tile floor. The familiar faint alarm rang in haunting tones as Gregory crawled out, nose wrinkling at the different appearance of the derelict pizzeria, then turned to hold out his hand, helping Cassie out of the vent. She pulled herself to her feet with his grip steadying her. Once she was clear, she looked around herself in awe, eyes wide as she took in the dingy blue-grey walls and grimy checkered tile, flimsy streamers hanging from the ceiling still as death. Rather than lead her deeper down the maze-like tunnel to the other section of the pizzeria, Gregory chose to break through a closer vent entrance but hadn’t expected a drastically different look to the place.

“So this is the old Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza from the far past?” she asked in a hushed tone, as though unwilling to break the silence. Gregory nodded, eyes darting over to see the pale blue mist gathering nearby to form the ghostly figure that had followed him around the first time he was here. “It feels.. cold.”

“Yeah, creepy, huh? Also head’s up, the old fart’s here to pester us about trespassing or whatever,” he announced, folding his arms over his chest and squinting at Six approaching them with a flat glare.

“Who?” Cassie asked in confusion, looking around them as she shifted closer to Gregory’s side, “Where?”

“Newsflash, dipshit,” Six declared, stopping in front of the kids and planting his hands on his hips, “She’s not Remnant-fucked like us. Can’t see me or hear me, so try not to look crazy in front of your little girlfriend.”

“Uh, sorry, lame prank attempt,” Gregory stammered out, face reddening as he glared back at the spirit, who only gave him a smug smirk for a split second before his expression went back to a mix of neutral and ‘done with this shit’. “So, apparently this was the old Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza where Mr. Schmidt and Mr. Fitzgerald used to work before it all got shut down.”

“Why’d it get shut down? People love Freddy’s Pizza places!” Cassie exclaimed in surprise before blinking and then narrowing her eyes, “And no pranking in creepy places! It’s not even Halloween!”

“Yeah, they stop loving a place once they catch on that a bunch of kids that went missing all at the same time there turned up dead and mashed to bits inside the animatronics,” Six drawled sarcastically and shrugged, “Place went through a lotta carpet and bleach. Probably why that Pizzaplex shithole has mostly tile and metal flooring; easier to clean the blood off.”

“Uh, too many meat pretzels?” Gregory filled in, walking away hurriedly to start searching.

“They had those back then?” Cassie questioned with a confused expression, following him while Six rolled his eyes, shoved his hands in his pockets, and walked after them both, “What a weird reason to close a place down.”

Cassie checked her phone as Gregory led her down a long hall, flashlight in hand to help him navigate them both around fallen debris from years of neglect. Every now and then she would lift it up to take a photo of their surroundings, peering into the dark party rooms as they passed them. He would pause in their walk to let her take the photos and shine his flashlight into the party rooms for her to better see.

Through it all the security guard spirit stood by them, silent after his initial disgruntled greeting. His expression remained mostly blank, unreadable save for the odd sadness in his eyes that Gregory could still pick up. It almost made him feel bad for bothering the guy by coming back to this side of Circus Baby’s Pizza and Parties, but something was going on that nobody knew about -again, because clearly nobody had any clue that kids and employees were fucking vanishing at the Pizzaplex thanks to Vanny’s weird experiments until he got loose and wrecked the place- and he had to follow up on it.

“Dad would’ve loved seeing some of this,” Cassie said suddenly, pulling Gregory’s attention to her. She had gone into one of the party rooms, holding a faded paper mask shaped like a rabbit’s face. She looked up at Gregory with a wobbly smile. “Bonnie was Dad’s favorite. Has a whole collection of Bonnie merch that he had stashed away but didn’t stop him from getting more collectables if he could find any,” she added and sighed, setting the mask down carefully on a party table. “He’s already got a vintage Bonnie mask, but.. y’know.”

“I’m sorry,” Gregory murmured, gut twisting as he thought back to those disappeared employees. He still had no idea if Cassie’s dad was one of them, a victim that Vanny had made Sydney get rid of when the Pizzaplex staff got replaced by animatronic versions. Maybe there was a chance of him being alive if he took a sick day? But then where would he be that he couldn’t come back home?

“I wonder if Fazbear Entertainment knows anything,” Cassie muttered with a suspicious tone in her voice, “since Mr. Fitzgerald said he had something of a deal with the company over his dad’s time working for them. Maybe it’s the same with my dad.” She pulled away from the table and shook herself off. “We’re here to find what the puppet sent us here to get for you. So let’s get going,” she decided firmly, “We can look into my dad when we get something to start with.”

Gregory nodded, unsure what else to say. If there were answers to be found, it wouldn’t be easy to find them and it was a pretty good chance they wouldn’t like what those answers would be. Cassie gave him another smile, a more confident one, and headed back out of the party room. He followed her out, glancing up at Six who had just leaned against a wall waiting for them to be done.

“You have any idea what I’m supposed to find this time?” he asked quietly, walking after Cassie while the spirit fell into step beside him.

“Since you’re heading this way.. I have a pretty good idea what the next thing is,” Six replied and sighed tiredly, “For what it’s worth.. I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Gregory asked warily, but the spirit didn’t answer, just tugged the brim of his hat down to hide his eyes in the shadow.

At the end of the hall was a large entrance that gave a clear view of what looked like a security office. Gregory frowned in brief confusion; there was already a security office for the pizzeria, a smaller one with doors on the sides that could be closed. What’s with this one that only had a front entryway that was so wide open? He raised the flashlight to look up at the ceiling as he and Cassie approached the office. Other than the cracking, damaged tile there wasn’t anything to indicate a door that could come down to seal off the room from the rest of the building.

That made him feel far more anxious than the other security office.

“This place looks like a wreck,” Cassie remarked with a huff, walking in and picking her way past knocked over cardboard boxes and old posters that were strewn across the floor. “Didn’t anyone ever clean up in here?” She leaned over to look into large open vents in the sides of the office, taking more photos with her phone, the flash of the camera app lighting up the insides of the vents in bursts.

“There’s this guy who looks after this place who said that it got raided a long time ago, so the mess is probably from that,” Gregory offered, stepping up after Cassie lost interest in the vent. He kicked a cardboard box full of dusty streamers and party hats in front of the opening and felt a little more settled. He’d already done the same for the other vent so now both entrances were blocked. What else was he supposed to do?

“Hey, check out these lockers!” Cassie said excitedly, pointing at the dull and rusted metal containers lined up along the back wall behind the oddly bare desk. Gregory glanced over at Six for a moment, the spirit leaning against the entrance to the office and still silent, just watching them, before going over to join the girl wiping at the labels of the lockers where she could reach. “This one belonged to Mr. Fitzgerald,” she told him in a hushed voice, eyes bright with curiosity as she pointed at a locker.

“Wonder if he left anything in there?” Gregory asked and jiggled the latch to see if it would open. There wasn’t a lock like on some of the other lockers, and although it was hard to move from rust, the latch eventually gave way. The door swung open slowly and with a harsh scraping, metal dust flaking and breaking away from the hinges. Both kids looked in eagerly, curious to what may be inside.

The shelf in the locker had a sort of mask made from what appeared to be the actual head of an old Freddy Fazbear, the face and cheeks covered in aged fur fabric, straps screwed into place and held together by a cheap buckle. Next to it was a soft blue cap with the words ‘Night Shift’ printed onto it cheaply in black block lettering. A spare night shift uniform hung directly under it, matching soft blue shirt and navy blue slacks neatly pressed and faded in color from the dust that covered them. On the floor of the locker was an open first aid kit, many of its supplies missing, likely used, and a few spilled out. Some bandages fluttered out when the door opened, brand characters smiling on the wrappers from where they landed on the office floor.

“Wh-what kinda job did Mr. Fitzgerald have to be using up so much medical stuff when he was here?” Cassie asked warily, staring down at the kit with her brow furrowed. She looked up as Gregory reached out to pull the shirt forward for a better look at it.

“Short sleeves,” he remarked quietly. Cassie gave him a questioning look and his expression grew pinched. “You ever see Mr. Fitzgerald wear short sleeves now?”

Her look of confusion stayed in place for a while until a faintly horrified one took its place. “What happened here?!” she asked in a hushed scream, backing away from the locker. A creaking sounded overhead and Cassie looked up at the ceiling in fear.

“Cassie, it’s okay. This was all in the past! We’re good, we’re safe!” Gregory told her, glancing over at Six in hopes that he wasn’t lying through his teeth. The spirit nodded and he relaxed only a little. The open doorway was still making the hair on the back of his neck stand.

“Why would he need so much first aid on the night shift?!” she demanded to know, fists planted on her hips, “All he had to do was just watch cameras, right?!” Gregory shrugged, eyes wide. Maybe he hadn’t been joking about the whole ‘five nights of dealing with killer animatronics’ too. Freddy had to give him a lot of first aid during that night long ago. “Let’s just get what you need to find and go; it really is creepy in here,” Cassie whimpered, hugging herself and glancing up at the ceiling again.

“Sure,” Gregory agreed and looked at the contents of the locker again. It was so strange to see a uniform that Mr. Fitzgerald used to wear when he was young. So small...

Nothing really popped out at him as something to take, so Gregory carefully closed the locker door, listening to the latch lock in place. It sounded strangely final, like it wouldn’t feel right to open it again, ever. He smoothed his hand over the locker, palm pressed to the metal, then finally left it to look at another one.

Wait, why did Mr. Schmidt have a locker on this side too? “He had two lockers? What the heck?” Gregory questioned, tapping at the nameplate on the locker beside Mr. Fitzgerald’s one. He didn’t take Cassie as far down that main hall as he went last time, so maybe it was because the pizzeria was actually big enough that it needed two security offices? The Pizzaplex had so many more for each section of the place so that sort of made sense. Mr. Schmidt would be the more senior security guard so he’d have a locker in both offices first; maybe Mr. Fitzgerald only managed to get the one before the place shut down?

“You got an old security tablet and Mr. Schmidt’s name tag,” Cassie puzzled out as she rubbed her chin, “Maybe the puppet wants you to collect things that belonged to him?” Her mouth twisted to one side in confusion. “But why him? What’s the big deal about this one guard that isn’t even around anymore? Is Fazbear Entertainment that interested in the guy’s stuff?”

“Maybe he had dirt on the company and this was a way of hiding that dirt so Fazbear Entertainment couldn’t make it disappear? Mr. Fitzgerald said that he had evidence about some stuff involving his dad and the company that they didn’t want showing up in court, so I guess Mr. Schmidt had some other stuff for his own reasons,” Gregory offered with a shrug, jiggling the latch of the locker. Just like the one for Mr. Fitzgerald, it was rusty and hard to move but it eventually gave way, opening slowly with harsh scraping as Gregory fought against the aged hinges. Cassie peeked in over his shoulder as he stared at the contents in blank confusion.

There wasn’t much inside the locker beside small spatterings of rusty-brown stains on the shelf and floor, a strong smell of iron drifting around. An old fashioned camera rested on the locker floor as well, a point and shoot type that could print out its own photos to develop over time. Gregory had the FazCam back home that could do the same if he bothered to get the stuff for it. He had been mostly interested in the flash it could produce to stun animatronics back in the Pizzaplex.

“Is that.. blood?” Cassie whispered, her voice carrying a note of dread, “Why’s there blood in his locker?”

The camera wasn’t colorful or fun-looking at all. It was very plain and boring, brown and gray, the brand name sticker long faded and unreadable.

“So is the camera the thing you’re supposed to take?” Cassie asked hesitantly, “Gregory?”

A piece of white tape was pasted along the side near the bottom of the camera, the name ‘Mike’ scrawled on it in black marker. If any photos had been taken with it, they weren’t in the locker anymore.

He reached in and carefully picked up the camera, a numbness settling over him. Muscle memory took over as he lifted the viewing lens to his eye, turned, and pointed the other lens at Cassie. She gave him a concerned look as he pressed the button and took a picture. The flash wasn’t as bright or blinding, and the photo slid out the bottom to be taken as he lowered the camera from his face.

“Gregory?” Cassie asked softly, the concern still in her expression, “Why are you crying?”

How many people disappeared over the length of time he was stuck in the Pizzaplex’s lab? (How many people were swept under the rug after a failed night?) So many kids taken from families and killed. (So many guards snatched away from their families on a whim.) And here he was, the one who got away and built a family from the pieces he pulled from the Pizzaplex. (And there he was, the only survivor for the longest time, ever the one to walk out in the morning.)

Gregory raised a hand to his head, a dull ache throbbing behind his eyes as he blinked tears away. “It hurts,” he murmured distantly and Cassie immediately started digging into her backpack for spare headache medicine. With her distracted by that, he slid his gaze over to Six. The spirit just looked back at him with a forlorn expression, glancing down at the camera in his hands briefly.

“Guilt is painful,” Six told him solemnly, arms folded over his chest, hands gripping his sleeves tightly. Bandages were wrapped around his fingers, a detail Gregory had never noticed before. “The fact I still exist means it never stopped bein’ painful.” He smiled weakly. “But you already knew that, didn’t ya?”

“Here,” Cassie said, holding out a bottle of water and a pair of capsules in her hands, “This should help.” Gregory accepted the bottle and medication, taking them in silence while she took the camera from him and studied it carefully. “This is definitely the real deal. My mom used to have a camera like this. Grandma has photo albums full of pictures she took with it. What kind of photos did Mr. Schmidt take and where did they all go?” she wondered aloud.

Gregory rubbed his face dry with the back of one hand, the half empty bottle of water held tight in his grip. An instant photo camera, a pair of lockers bare of any photos, many lockers with nameplates scratched up or removed, and that look of guilt on Six’s face. Maybe Fazbear Entertainment had a habit of making people disappear long before the Pizzaplex was built? And yet both Mr. Fitzgerald and Mr. Schmidt walked away from everything in one piece, so why was he being directed to collect Mr. Schmidt’s things? He sniffled, rolling the bottle in both hands as he looked up at the other lockers.

“I think.. I think he was taking pictures of everyone that ever came to work here,” he said out loud and looked over at Cassie as she gingerly tucked the camera into her backpack for safekeeping.

“Well, yeah, that makes sense,” she agreed, reaching out to help him up as they prepared to leave the office, “There’s a big wall of photos at the supermarket for Employees of the Month, so they probably had something like that here.”

“Maybe,” Gregory said uneasily and finished off the bottle of water before dropping the plastic container into the office trash can. More crumpled paper cups jostled with the movement, old trash welcoming new.

The two kids began their walk back to the connecting vent, passing through the open entrance together as Six pushed away from the wall to follow alongside them. “I just don’t get it. Why do you wanna stay?” the spirit mused aloud, cocking his head aside when Gregory glared at him over his shoulder. “The hell you gettin’ mad at me for?” Six asked with a frown, “You’re the one walkin’ off with Mike’s relics. I need those for power, ya lil shit.” Gregory stuck out his tongue in response and Six just rolled his eyes in exasperation.

Shoulda known better than to be asking questions when he couldn’t answer. He was the one who told Gregory not to look crazy in front of Cassie, so why was he getting huffy that he couldn’t answer normally?

When they reached the opening for the ventilation tunnel, Gregory offered for Cassie to go through first. “I’m gonna try and put the cover back on behind us,” he claimed weakly, holding up the bent grille, “I’ll catch up in a bit, don’t worry!”

“Alright, but if you don’t show up over at Circus Baby’s in ten minutes, I’m telling your mom,” Cassie threatened, then crawled into the tunnel and disappeared into the shadows, soft thumps fading away as the faint alarms went off once more.

“As for you,” Gregory went on, turning to scowl at Six as he tossed the grille aside, “what the hell is your problem?! I’m trying to get some answers and you’re being a pain in the ass!”

“Takes one to know one,” Six shot back, hands on his hips as he glared back down at the boy, “And if you want my advice, kid, you’d be better off not huntin’ for more pieces.” The guilt flashed across his face for a moment before the scowl took its place again. “Leave this sorta shit to the Guards. Ya have a family that’s lookin’ out for ya and ya got a whole life ahead of ya. It’s not easy gettin’ away from Aftons or Fazfuck, but you did it. Don’t risk getting caught up in this shit again,” he urged.

“Fat load of good that did; none of them did anything until Sydney got kidnapped and by then me and Vanessa lost everything about ourselves!” Gregory snapped, one hand splayed over his chest, “My memories are gone! My Remnant’s been fucked to hell and back! Hers too! I dunno why that stupid puppet started giving me that guy’s old stuff, but if he had something that could shut down Fazbear Entertainment for good, then I’m gonna keep collecting it until I get those answers!”

“He had something the Aftons wanted, alright,” Six said scornfully, “And it sure as hell wasn’t any ‘dirt’ on their fucking company. If you thought they were already bad now, killing so many people over the years for their bullshit experiments, you’re definitely not gonna like how fucked everyone will be if they get hold of The Strength to Survive and The Warmth of Life. Do me a favor and stay the hell away from it all!”

“I’m gettin’ those answers and there ain’t shit you can do to stop me,” Gregory huffed, preparing to get into the vent himself, “Whatever those things are that Vanny wants, I’ll just get them first and fuck up her plans again.” He ignored the harsh bark of laughter from the spirit as he started crawling away, hoping to make it back to Circus Baby’s before Cassie made good on her threat.

She was way scarier when mad than Six could ever be.

.

-------------------

.

“You cut it close~,” Cassie sang out with a teasing smile as Gregory tumbled out of the vent and rubbed his head.

“Sorry, I tried to get the cover back on and I guess I bent it out of shape too much,” he told her with a sheepish laugh, getting to his feet. She hummed, squinting at him suspiciously before shrugging.

“Yeah, you are weirdly strong for your size,” she agreed and pointed towards the games corner, “So now that we have the camera, do we take it over to the security puppet like you did last time?” He nodded, walking beside her as they made their way across the pizzeria to the games room and prize counter.

Gregory glanced around to track where everyone was in the dining area. Circus Baby was performing on stage, holding her hands up to make a heart shape for the kids cheering up at her while she danced. Miss Corbett was walking from table to table, checking in on families and her waitstaff to make sure everything was going well. Alex was hanging out near the door that led to the back offices and rooms, scanning the room sternly until he spotted Gregory. He raised a hand in greeting and Gregory waved back to reassure the guy that everything was fine and there was no need to investigate him messing around with the ventilation tunnel.

They reached the counter and waited their turn behind a group of teens who spent their pool of tickets on a badminton set and water pistols. Once they hurried off in a cloud of giggles, Gregory and Cassie stepped up with her digging the camera out of her backpack while he gave the puppet his usual glare of annoyance. She pulled it free and held it up, but the puppet made no movement, only stared down at Gregory unblinkingly.

“Why’s it not working?” Cassie asked in confusion, looking between the puppet and the camera, “Did we get the wrong thing?”

Gregory frowned, pulling his attention to her, then to the camera. Why wasn’t the puppet reacting? This was definitely something from Mr. Schmidt; Six said so. The puppet reacted to the nametag, so why...?

He blinked, looking at the camera in Cassie’s hands again. “Huh,” he muttered. Did it only matter if he was the one holding the stuff? “Here, give me the camera,” he said, “Let’s see if it works if I show it the camera.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Cassie said in a dubious tone, turning the camera over to him, “The puppet acts weird for you only, so why not be double weird when it’s not you? Where the heck did the owner of this place buy this thing from anyway?”

Gregory shrugged, taking the camera in his hands and then holding it up for the puppet to see. He tried not to think about the way his skin crawled holding it, a wrongness in the way he was treating the thing. Was there even a certain way he should? It was just a camera, why was it such a big deal?

The puppet immediately reacted once it saw the camera in Gregory’s hands, raising a finger to point at the Egg Baby again. He glared in frustration, huffing as he turned to walk over to the animatronic.

“Huh, so same as last time,” Cassie said thoughtfully, “The puppet and the Egg Baby.. they’re both programmed to react to Mr. Schmidt’s things, but only if you’re the one holding those things. So there’s a connection between you, Mr. Schmidt, and the person who programmed these animatronics, right?” She squinted her eyes at him as Gregory shrugged again, a faintly disturbed expression on his face.

“If there is one, I don’t remember what it is. Amnesia sure is convenient like that,” he griped, “The guy only had two kids, Mr. Fitzgerald and this old lady named Faith, and they didn’t recognize me as anybody different.” Gregory blinked as he remembered the sad look on the old woman’s face as she hummed a song that had put him so on edge he didn’t know if he was going to run away screaming or start throwing things at anything that moved near him. “..I think,” he amended uncertainly, “A lot of the grown ups connected to Mr. Schmidt are just weird, but I guess that’s cuz of all the crap they had to deal with.”

The Egg Baby’s eyes swept back and forth as usual until the two kids approached, the camera still in Gregory’s hands. It halted its gaze, locked onto Gregory’s face to run the familiar scanning sweep, then dropped the light down to the camera to do the same. The same soft whirring began to sound from the Egg Baby’s belly and the kids stepped back to give space for the smaller baby to push out the red capsule and pop open the lid.

“Are you gonna get another piece of old tech again?” Cassie asked dryly, blinking as the lid clicked open to reveal another heavy hard drive resting on the cushion.

“Two,” Gregory said quietly, reaching down to pick it up and mindful of the old cables wrapping around its case protectively.

“Guess that answers that question,” Cassie sighed, “What even is in these things? Did you check that first one you got some time back?”

“Yeah, animatronic programming,” he replied, looking between the two old pieces of technology in his arms, “I guess this one will have more. Huh. Mr. Schmidt was supposed to watch over the original Freddy Fazbear and friends when he worked at Freddy’s, so am I supposed to rebuild them with these?”

“Uh, how? You’re just a kid,” Cassie pointed out as they left the prize area to go back to their booth and wait for their respective guardians to pick them up, “I mean, yeah, you’re an Afton, but that really doesn’t make up for being a kid with, like, no money and also little.”

“Hey, I’m taller than you!” Gregory protested weakly, pouting as she just scoffed and gave him a teasing smirk.

“Barely,” she countered and sat back in the booth, pulling out her phone to text her grandmother, “Anyway, if those drives are of the original Freddy and friends, then do they belong to Afton Robotics? Since they bought Fredbear’s Diner and all their properties, like the old animatronics, y’know?”

“Mine now. Finders, keepers and all that shit,” Gregory told her with a tired grin. Vanessa and Sydney would be showing up since he only could stay at Circus Baby’s for a few hours to hang out with Cassie while they scouted the Pizzaplex for a good entry point. Freddy wanted to join them when they did the break-in, volunteering to help disable the other Glamrocks so that Vanessa and Sydney could get their chips using their higher level security badges. Mr. Fitzgerald wanted him and his friends to join in to get to whatever servers were in the building for more information about Afton’s plans, so they were probably going to have to figure out how to work around and with each other.

Meanwhile, Gregory was just trying to wrap his head around all these secrets and things that seemed to be tangling around him when all he wanted to do was just be happy with his family and maybe fix what he broke to make up for it.

“Might as well work on homework until my grandma and your mom shows up,” Cassie decided, pulling out a workbook from her backpack, “Did you bring yours?” She frowned at Gregory’s guilty expression, giving him a lidded glare back. “And then you wonder why our homeroom teacher is always on your case,” she sighed.

.

---------

.

In the safety of his own room, with Freddy looking over his shoulder with a strangely solemn air, Gregory connected the drive to his own computer, a refurbished setup Alex gave him to use for his coding practice so he’d stop borrowing the burner laptop. Animatronic programming filled the screen as he dug through the files, picking out names and identifying markers.

“Bonnie,” he read aloud, looking up at the sharp gasp Freddy uttered. The animatronic bear looked heartbroken, ears drooping as his newly rounded shoulders dropped, making him look wilted.

“Ah, Bonnie, a name I dearly hold of someone I miss very, very much,” he murmured in a low voice, “I confess that I hope our search of the Pizzaplex to rescue the Glamrocks would also lead us to find out what happened to Glamrock Bonnie.”

“No harm in trying, I guess,” Gregory offered with a small smile. It would be nice to find Freddy’s friend. Anytime he mentioned rabbits or looked at something that was related to the rabbit painted on the upper level of the atrium, Freddy always looked miserable. Glamrock Bonnie must have meant something special to him. He turned back to the screen and studied the lines of code carefully, frowning a little at the familiar writing.

He knew these commands somehow, this buried coding that was nested in deep and seemed to be gripping onto the software like a parasite. And above that was another set of programming blocks that was organized in a particular pattern, a different syntax from the base personality, the weird additions that were like Freddy’s code, and a broken security patch that seemed to be controlled by that parasitic code. It was all the same as what was in the drive for Chica.

“I’m gonna have to do a lot of fixing to bring these guys back,” Gregory sighed. More sleepless nights then.

He flexed his fingers to loosen them up, then bent to work.

[hqmillioncorn]

I have to shout it out loud, all of the things I couldn't live without.

"I'm home!" Babycorn shouted as loud as she could. Every time she came back she made sure to be even louder than the last time. Though it made no difference because no matter how loud she announced her arrival or how long she waited, Cherrypit's eyes remained shut. Babycorn sighed, holding the stack of papers closer to her chest. Right. There was no time to dwell on it. Not right now. "I'm home Cherry! And I did lotsa stuff today!" She skittered over to his bedside and sat down on the floor. "Here! I drew a bunch of the stuff me and everyone saw!" Having just come back from exploring some sort of underwater treasure trove there was nothing Babycorn wanted to do more than just lie down and take a nap. But her Cherrypit was her number one priority. He always was. No matter what she had to do.

lalapril 20: vista

while exploring the thirteenth babycorn makes a quick pit stop to take a look around for a very important reason.

As Babycorn turned the corner she looked from side to side to make sure no more super scary Voidsent would sneak up on her when she wasn’t looking. “Okay…Coast clear…” She whispered to herself.

Babycorn pressed herself against an old brick wall and slowly scooted forward. 

 So far so good.

It was a strange feeling, normally voidsent would completely avoid her because of her lack of aether. To them Babycorn looked like nothing more than a light that was flickering on and off.

Not at all worth it to deal with the much bigger threat that always walked by her side. 

But now Babycorn was all alone and terrified of everything around her. 

...Well, she wasn’t actually alone by any definition of the word, but it sure felt like she was without the constant companionship of her brother by her side.

On the bright sight, if things got too much she could still go ahead and use her old strategy of screaming and running to hide behind Estinien. Not that anyone else was free from Babycorn using them as a hiding place but she thought it was fun when Estinien picked her up and flipped her around in the air. 

After a few more moments of sneaking around Babycorn stopped, “This is it!” The scene that was in front of her was perfect! There was a little bit of everything! A nice building in the background, a little bit of green with some plants peeking through the floor and a really cool fountain all in the middle!

It was a little dreary but what place in the thirteenth wasn’t let’s be fair. 

“Yay…!” Babycorn let out a little cheer, making sure to stay a little quiet just in case any voidsent were around. She placed Hungstal on the ground and began to dig around inside them. “Hungstal did you remember to grab what I asked you too?” she whispered.

Hungstal nodded as good as a sentient backpack could. 

Soon enough Babycorn felt the exact things she was looking for. With a triumphant “Ah-ha!!” she pulled out some blank pieces of paper alongside a handful of pencils. She always carried extras in case she needed a snack or two during some downtime. 

“Thanks Hungstal.” With a job well done they gave a tiny little wave, before hopping right back onto Babycorn’s back. 

Babycorn sat down on the cobbled ground, pencil in hand, she looked up. 

“Do you require any assistance?” 

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!!” Babycorn screamed, jumping into the air at least a couple of fulms high. The papers in her hands scattered in the air, all except for one. 

Just like so many people before her, Zero managed to save Babycorn from falling to the ground by grabbing her by the pom. “What are you doing?” Zero asked. Unfortunately Babycorn was a little too busy freaking out over being held in the air to really answer any questions.

Zero wasn’t really sure what to do but it was getting kind of hard to hold onto Babycorn with all her wiggling. The best thing to do was probably to let her go, so she did. 

Once she was free Babycorn fell straight to the ground. “OoF!” She hit the ground face first and like always she was pretty much unharmed. The only thing was that her nose kinda hurt but that was quickly forgotten when she noticed Zero standing over her. 

“Zero! Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!!” 

Babycorn basically teleported back up and hugged Zero’s leg. “I haven’t seen you in a hundred and eighty seconds!” 

“You were counting?” 

“Yup! But that’s pretty much as high as I can count.” 

That made sense. It had been much quieter before so it felt a little longer than that. 

After letting Zero go, Babycorn got right back to work. Zero silently stood by, watching Babycorn running around as she tried to grab all the papers that she had unintentionally thrown around. There was nothing on the papers so Zero was a little puzzled why Babycorn was trying to collect them so badly. 

“Zero! Miss Zero!” Babycorn jumped up and down, holding the papers close to her.

“Hmm?” 

Zero looked down at Babycorn and noticed her pointing right up at her, standing on her tippy toes. “Miss Zero? There’s a paper on your hat! Can I have it?” 

True to Babycorn’s word there was a piece of paper loosely hanging off of the brim of Zero’s hat. “Oh.” Zero grabbed the paper and looked at it. It was blank, just like the rest. What was she going to do with it? “Here you are.” She handed it back to her and Babycorn grabbed it with a bite. 

“Hank ywou!” Babycorn answered with her mouth full of paper.

Zero looked back at her hand to make sure all her fingers were still there. She had already been warned ahead of time by Y’shtola that Babycorn was a bit of a biter. “What are you doing here?” Zero had watched Babycorn wander here by herself, so of course she simply followed her, curious if she was doing something different than the rest of the group. 

Also because Estinien told her that it was never a good idea to let Babycorn go anywhere by herself.

Babycorn slammed a piece of paper onto the smoothest stone she could find and placed the rest on top of her pom. It was kind of impressive actually. “I’m gonna draw what I’m seeing!” Using her pencil she drew an invisible circle around everything she was going to try and draw. 

She held the pencil tight in her right hand and began to draw. Humming a strange little song while drawing all sorts of lines. 

“Draw~ Draw~ Draw~! Drawing is funner than getting your arm almost cut off~!” 

As strange as the song was, Zero couldn’t help but agree. That really didn’t sound very fun. 

Zero knelt down next to Babycorn to try and get a closer look at what Babycorn was doing. She was in total concentration, filling the paper in front of her with all sorts of scribbles that vaguely resembled the view in front of them. 

“Is there a reason you’re doing this?” 

“Yeah! There is. It’s really important! Look here-!” Babycorn paused her hard work and took out something from her large sleeves. It was a smaller piece of paper. Unlike the rest of them, this one actually had something on it.

A simple drawing of a person. Someone who looked remarkably similar to Babycorn. 

Babycorn held the paper in her hands as if it were the most important thing in the world. “This is my little brother! His name is Cherrypit and right now he’s…asleep.” 

“Asleep?” Why did Babycorn sound so sad about that?

“...He’s been asleep for a long time because something really bad happened.” As much as Babycorn tried not to talk about it there was a bit of relief in being able to just say it. Before even just thinking about it would cause her to freeze up and start crying.

Things were getting better but she wasn’t all quite there yet.

Babycorn continued, “Since he’s still asleep I wanna try and draw everything he won’t be able to see!” If the thirteenth was this much of a pain in the ass to get into the first time she doubted that they would be coming back anytime soon. 

“Is this Cherrypit giving you anything in return?”

This again. Babycorn had always been of the opinion that doing favors and nice things was just for that, being nice. But Zero seemed to want some sort of trade for every single little thing. She seemed nice enough but Babycorn secretly hoped she would never be in a position where she had to ask Zero for help. 

“No.” She answered straight to the point. “I’m doing this for him because he’s my little brother and I love him.” Simple as that.

“Hmm…” Much to think about. “...Do you need any assistance?” 

Wuh oh. Babycorn knew where this was going. Personally she would prefer not to give Zero any of her aether, especially given past events. “Nope! I got this!” It wasn’t like there was anything Zero could do to help anyways. This drawing was a one Babycorn job. 

…Well actually, now that she mentioned it.

Babycorn looked up at Zero, her eyes growing larger as a little plan began to brew in that little brain of hers. Without a single word and without breaking eye contact Babycorn began to scoot back, little by little, until she was just a bit farther away than where she started. 

Zero was almost too confused to ask. Almost. “...Now what are you doing?” 

 Babycorn didn’t answer, instead she kept her eyes locked on her paper, moving her pencil all over her canvas. “Nothin!” She vaguely answered. That didn’t sound right because clearly she was doing something. 

It wasn’t until after five minutes of just staring at her that Zero got an answer. 

Babycorn held up her still unfinished piece of artwork in triumph. “Dadadada!!!” She cheered. “I drew you!!” 

“Me?”

Babycorn wasn’t lying. There on the paper was an approximate representation of Zero. Most everything was there. Her hat, her hair, and her scythe. Everything else was pretty indistinguishable. 

“Cherry hasn’t met you yet and I want him to know what you were doing when I was drawing this!” Partly one of the reasons why Babycorn was drawing pretty much everything she did everyday. Sure she couldn’t really write all that well yet but she made due! 

“I suppose it does look like me…” 

Babycorn grinned. If Zero thought it looked like herself then she must have done a really good job. “And the best part is that I don’t owe you payment cause I didn’t ask you to do anything!” She cheered. 

Zero let out a small gasp. She let her jaw drop just a little, there was some genuine surprise there. To think someone as nice as Babycorn set herself out to be could be so conniving. 

“So thanks!” Babycorn giggled to herself. As if this was way funnier than it really was. “Or should I say no THANKS! Hehehehehe~” 

Personally this was incredibly embarrassing. Outsmarted by Babycorn of all people. Zero hadn’t known her for a full day but she could tell that Babycorn wasn’t the brightest of the bunch. 

Preferably she would like it if no one else found out about this but from what she heard from Varshahn was that Babycorn was a bit of a blabber mouth. 

Zero tipped her hat down. Oh well.

[salemruinseverything]

Hi salem :3 how does one go abt making Kandi (like what do I buy/how do I do it)

OKAY preemptively putting this under a readmore. BUT

so all you really need is pony beads and string. i personally recommend a cloth-wrapped elastic string because they're easy to tie + hard to break but basically anything stretchy will work. the absolute most basic and beginner-friendly kandi you can make is a single- just put enough beads on the string to fit around your wrist/ankle/neck [depending on where you want to wear it] and tie it off, and bam. you have made kandi. singles are a good way to get used to the very basics of making kandi, and if just pony beads feels a little boring you can add letter beads to spell stuff out, or charms to add a little bit of extra decoration! here's some examples of singles ive made btw i will take any chance to show off my kandi

probably about a step up from that is kandi stars which i will be using this pinterest tutorial to show you how to do because i cannot figure out how to describe that in a way that makes sense

i make them to take to concerts and give to people its super fun :3 you can also thread one of the beads on the tip of the points into a kandi single to attach it! its a little clunky but i personally think clunky charms are fun. i cant find a picture of it rn but i saw someone once with a kandi single that said "whip it good" with an empty can of whipits attached to it and while that is honestly one of the very few drugs i do not condone i still think that was cute as fuck

once youve gotten comfortable with those, you can move on to making cuffs! [or start making cuffs immediately honestly because that's how i started but honestly i would recommend you not do that because it took me five tries to make a single cuff.] there are two common stitches for cuffs- peyote stitch [make a loop and then go back around putting a bead on the string, skipping over a bead, and then sticking the thread back in so that the two beads stick on top of each other], which is less flexible but easier to make more detailed patterns in, and x stitch [basically the same as kandi stars but bigger and taller, making a kind of x-shaped look], which is more flexible and better for the base of big complicated cuffs. the easiest, though, is a ladder cuff. i would show you abother pinterest tutorial for this one but i couldn't find one. but the tl;dr is that you make a row of beads and then stick the thread in from both sides. and then do it a bunch so it stacks

here's some video tutorials for peyote stitch & x stitch

anything more complicated than that i cannot help you with but 1. this is a good start 2. youtube has tutorials for everything

glhf!!!!!!!!!!! 💛💛💛💛

[starlady-baby]

Juke Jeudi time! This time you get a double feature. Art and a story! Enjoy.

Ever since the stamps went away and Julie was able to hug her boys, things were going good in the Molina house. Although nobody knew how or why it happened, none of them complained about it. The boys could still spend time with their favorite alive person (because they still weren’t sure exactly what they were) and happy that they could still spend time with each other.

It was one of those days where things were more quiet than normal. Reggie was hanging out with Ray and Carlos, Alex was probably with Willie somewhere, and Luke was in the studio, working on a new song he and Julie had started. He hadn’t come up with any lyrics, but he’d started plucking out some notes on his guitar that fit with the melody they came up with.

Eventually all his ideas had been spilled out and he left the pages on the piano. He wasn’t sure what time it was, but Julie must be home from school now, right? He shrugged and poofed himself up to her room, hoping she’d be there.

She startled with a jump and rolled her eyes. She tried to look angry but Luke saw right through it.

“How did you even know I’d be here yet?” She asked, barely having set her backpack down by her bed.

“It was just a hunch.” He shrugged. “Whaddya say we go work on that new song?” He asked, a grin forming at the end of his lips.

“I would love to, but I just got slammed with a bunch of homework for tomorrow.” Julie sighed heavily. “And you remember what my dad said. I’ve got to focus on school first.”

“School can wait, Jules. You always get it done anyway, right?”

Once again she rolled her eyes. “Yes, but that’s not the point right now. I need to crank out some of this stuff before we go into the studio.”

Luke rolled his eyes and pouted. “C’mon… you’re sure you can’t just take a little break before working on your boring school work?”

“Yes, Luke, I’m sure. It won’t take long, okay? I promise we’ll work on it after.”

He was still pouting but nodded and sighed. “Fine. I guess we can do that.”

Julie smiled at him and grabbed one of her books out of her backpack. “You’re still more than welcome to join me. I don’t mind the company.” She said, that smile of hers turning into a smirk.

“Oh, why thank you.” He smirked back and sat on her bed.

After Julie grabbed the book, (some Shakespeare play that Luke had unfortunately recognized from his own high school days) she sat up on the bed as well. She propped herself up against the head of her bed, her pillows behind her back, and started to read.

Luke sighed quietly to himself, not so patiently waiting for when the two of them could go out to the studio. He knew that this is what she needed to do though. He knew Mr. Molina meant it when he said Julie needed to focus on school, otherwise their so-called “plug” would be pulled. And as much as he wanted to work on the song, waiting for her to finish her homework so they could still make music together was worth all his time.

Eventually Julie was about halfway done with her reading, which took shorter than Luke thought it would. She set her book down momentarily and decided to stretch.

“Jeez, I should’ve sat at my desk. That board against my back is not comfortable.” She mumbled, raising her arms up.

Luke nodded. “I can’t imagine it would be. At least the pillows help though.”

“I suppose. Thankfully I don’t have much more to read, though.”

“And then we can go work on our song.” Luke said as he grinned.

“And then we can go work on our song.” Julie laughed, grabbing her book again. This time though, instead of resting against the board and her stack of pillows, she leaned up against Luke.

His eyes widened a bit and then his grin turned to a soft smile. “Sounds like a plan, boss.”

Julie laughed quietly and returned to her book. As her eyes went over the pages and the words form sentences in her head, she eventually found herself under Luke’s arm, her head not too far away from his.

He looked down at her, happy to have her in his arms. So glad he can finally hold her and be around her without being afraid that they’d never be able to touch. That they could never hold hands. That this little relationship of theirs couldn’t go anywhere. Now he felt like he didn’t need to worry about that anymore.

Her eyes glanced up and she saw his soft hazel eyes staring into her own. They looked at each other for a second, taking in each other’s beauty, until they both leaned closer and their lips locked together.

After they pulled away, Luke grinned.

“I think this little relationship of ours just got a bit more interesting.”

[the-everqueen]

5 - Corinthian, Rose Walker, Desire of the Endless

9 - Donald Pierce, Ty Shaw, Steve Murphy

5 - go on a six hour road trip with (no car radio, you choose who drives), sit next to on a six hour plane flight, sit across from on a six hour train journey mm...once i placed the Corinthian i felt good about deciding the other two. CLEARLY gotta get in a car with the Corinthian. will that road trip end with me dead? yeah, probably. BUT i think he'd have a fun phone playlist. also he'd be the one driving, most likely, not because i can't but because i assume he'd have a much cooler car than i ever will. ideal road trip partner, imho. Jed obviously had a fun time!

Rose for the flight. i HATE flying, esp. "long flights" (for me, that's anything 4+ hours), i usually get red-eyes when possible so i can sleep. so i trust that either Rose and i could politely do our own things for most of the flight (also we're both on the petite end - VERY handy because, uh, sorry to her but she will be in the middle seat because i always get a window seat but at least we won't be cramped like every time i end up sitting next to a dude who's 6 ft and miserable). OR we could talk about books/whatever she's writing. i'd happily rubber duck for Rose Walker. if the flight is 6 hours, are we going to the UK? i'd have a bunch of questions for her if she's going for family history stuff, so long as she's cool with that.

Desire for the train. this is mostly because i assume any sort of extended trip with Desire involves sex and i'd be less squicked out about that in a train bathroom vs a plane bathroom. i do NOT trust Desire's taste in music, so no car playlist privileges. we'd have fun gossiping about the other passengers. if this is a six hour train trip through some part of the U.S., they'd be a fun distraction from All Of The Farmland (inevitable).

9 - watch a soap opera with, go to a play with, watch your favourite movie with soap opera goes to Pierce. that bitch loves a good telenovela, i'm sure. we could make it a weekly thing. he's got theories about where Vanessa's arc is going, i've got the latest chisme on his coworkers. win-win.

Steve Murphy is so...old-fashioned, in some respects, that i'd want to go to a play with him. OBVIOUSLY it would be something queer (maybe we just go all out and see "Angels in America"). unlike Pierce, he doesn't gab the entire time, and he buys me a drink at intermission. he's quiet and profoundly, visibly uncomfortable the entire time. afterward we go to the nearest diner and he makes awkward comments on the parts he thinks were done well. i eat a stack of pancakes and stare at him.

(even more ideal than a play...a musical. i DO think Steve Murphy would low-key enjoy a musical, even if he pretended it was silly. what musical would i take Steve to? the 2023 revival of "Merrily We Roll" or maybe a Dave Malloy thing)

i'm trying to decide what my favorite movie is in this context but regardless it goes to Ty Shaw. if it's something overwhelmingly sincere, like LOTR, he's definitely already seen it and goes into the rewatch with sweet enthusiasm. if it's something in the vein of "made just for me, horse," i.e. The Social Network or Challengers, then we end up having really intense sex somewhere around Act 2. either way, he brings beer/popcorn and i either bake cookies or smuggle a bunch of candy into the local theater.

send me a number and three names

[l1brarian1999]

Warframe Modding - The Warframes themselves

Modding a Warframe is a decidedly more complex affair than the weapons, as this is actually where there's some kind of build variety based on player choice rather than 'ideal build' to extra the most value out of a weapon.

Generally, its a case of balancing your suvival stats, your ability stats, and then adjusting as necessary from there.

The great joy of Warframe is of course that you can build whatever you want and you don't owe anyone shit.

If you want you really can make a build that is entirely parkour mods so you can run super fast, if that's what you need the build to do. You'll die a fair bit if you take that parkour build into Steel Path, but it might end up being the best build for low level mission clearing for loot and such you're planning to sell.

You can stack nothing but health, armour, shields, and regen if you know you're not gonna be using abilities and just your weapons. (the age old Inaros strategy.)

Or maybe you drop every survival mod and go full tilt on damage, DPS, and killing enemies. I know one salty little shitfuck who does exactly that. (You know who you are)

And ultimately, only you can pick. However, if there's certain content you want to do - like Steel Path - then there's certain build tricks you need to know.

So let's cover a few key points to keep in mind when building:

Staying Alive - Hah, hah, stayin' alive. Man I'm old now. Anyway, yeah you can't do shit if you're dead. I personally always start with 'how am I going to keep myself alive' (there's another reference for the Queen fans) because everything else is secondary to that. Am I stacking Health and Armour, am I loading up on shields and damage resistance, am I just going to run so fast they can't shoot me, stuff like that. So generally, unless I am very confident I can kill before I die, I will stack two kinds of 'survival'. So maybe a little additive armour and some crowd control. Maybe a big chunk of shields and Quick Thinking juuuuust in case.

Note, try to avoid relying on Quick Thinking. It allows you to use your Energy pool, as 'emergency health' but when it does this, you are more vulnerable to staggers. This is very bad, it is not something you should rely on outside of a few cases since its very, very easy to get stunlocked to death. It has its uses, but they are few and far between.

Thresholds - When building a Warframe, certain abilities have caps. Like armour stripping, you don't need to strip more 100% armour, so there's a certain threshold of power strength you're building for. Keeping these thresholds in mind can save you space, or you might go over them anyway because the stat will have other uses. E.g. I might build Ash for only 143% power strength so Seeking Shuriken will strip all armour, if that's the only thing I'm using. Whereas, if I'm building to focus more on Bladestorm, I might stack as much power strength as I can.

Energy - Warframe becomes a very boring game without Abilities to cast, so getting a source of energy is important. To the extent that I might even recommend that once you get some tradable plat, buying the mod Energy Nexus is a really good investment. Energy Nexus gives you a decent 3 points of Energy a Second, but you only unlock the place to farm it after a bunch of Main Story quests. So by buying it (or getting a friend to gift you one) you get a lot of energy earlier into the game than you reasonably should but oh man. I'll probably do a whole post on Energy sources.

"General" vs "Specialised" builds - I generally have one build I use for day to day running, and then sometimes build specific things for funsies or maybe for a specific mission. A 'pick up and play' build if you will. Knowing the difference between them and when to use them, how to build them, can make things a lot more focused. Some builds are built entirely around a single ability - I've got an Atlas build that has ability Efficiency stacked up alongside Energy Regen (see above) so I can infinitely spam his 1st Ability, Rockslide - its a punch, but with a rock. Over. And over. And over again. Its stupid, by design.