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[merakiui]

promising young man.

yandere!riddle rosehearts x (gender neutral) reader cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, one-sided student/teacher relationship, obsession, dark thoughts, jealousy, delusion, brief descriptions of blood/gore, violence, death, murder, brief nsfw note - riddle's perfect world comes crashing down with the arrival of foreign exchange student azul ashengrotto.

He meets him in Intro to Psych.

Azul Ashengrotto struggles to parse English, but he’s dressed like a businessman with his pressed suit and leather Oxfords. The only thing that reveals his status as a student is the black backpack he carries to class. Riddle’s seen him around campus a handful of times. It’s hard to miss him when he seems to throw himself into social circles with practiced grace.

This is the first time he’s ever had class with him, though, and so now he gets to see him in a classroom setting. There isn’t much about him that immediately strikes Riddle as odd. He’s well-dressed and prompt with a polite tongue. Every time he speaks in his thick accent, the one that just commands admiration and attention, that tiny Italian flag pinned to the strap of his bag becomes even more apparent.

Riddle’s not sure what he’s doing in this class. Perhaps he’s aiming to study law as well. He’d hoped to find more people with similar academic hobbies and interests and, while he’s yet to form any lasting bonds, he’s been wondering what sort of person Azul is.

On the first day of class, he introduced himself with confidence: “Buongiorno, amici. I am Azul. I look forward to the year with all of you.”

Though the structure and pronunciation of English proved awkward in his mouth, that didn’t stop him from opening himself to others. He’s friendly and outgoing, always welcoming conversation when it’s thrown his way. Riddle finds it impressive. If he were in Azul’s shoes, he’s certain he’d feel just a little lost attending school in a new country, far from home, surrounded by people who speak a completely different language. But Azul is resourceful, a dab hand at communication despite the barrier in vernacular. Perhaps that’s where his charm comes from.

Riddle thought the two of them might get along.

But then Azul proved academically formidable, and then you began to pick his brain after class, during time that was specifically reserved for Riddle so that he could discuss psychology with you.

So now Riddle sits in his seat, impatiently awaiting his chance.

“The law over in here is fascinating,” Azul says, leaning closer as you show him something on the desktop computer. 

“What’s it like where you’re from?”

“Mm. How to explain… The law is…”

“It follows a civil law tradition,” Riddle pipes up, casually flipping a page in his textbook. He does it for show. He’s aware it probably makes him look like an arrogant know-it-all.

You peek past the screen at him. “Oh! Riddle, you’re still here. Hello!”

He hums, warming under your gaze. “I always am.”

“What was it you were saying about the Italian legal system?”

Azul stares at him. An unhappy frown tightens on his face.

Uplifted with pride, swimming in the clouds, Riddle elaborates: “I’ve only just started researching it, but it’s very interesting. In the realm of criminal law, trials are often led by judges or a select few to form a panel unlike the juries we have here. Of course you’ll find differences everywhere. All countries have justice systems and law enforcement. Still, it’s fascinating to compare and contrast the fine details.”

From across the room, Azul’s stink eye has never been more obvious.

“Ah, that’s right. I’ve heard a few things regarding the way cases are handled over there. From what you know, Azul, would you say the system is harsher here than it is there, or is it the other way around?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Azul says, and that polite mask of his slips for a second. “I’ve never done crime.”

Riddle snaps his book shut and rises from his seat. “Let’s hope not. You’ve a promising career ahead of you.” He smiles sweetly at Azul like he’s particularly stupid.

Azul tracks him as he packs his belongings away and strides towards the door. His brilliant blue eyes are dark. “Ci fai o ci sei?” he mutters, clicking his tongue discreetly. “Rompipalle…”

Riddle will later learn these are slang phrases. He’ll learn a lot of things later—things he thought he’d never need to learn.

Thinking it a joke, you laugh and wave your hand about dismissively. “Aren’t you going to stay, Riddle? I watched the first episode of that podcast you recommended.”

Riddle perks up at that. “You watched it?”

“This past weekend, yes. It’s a riveting series. They really dig deep into the facets of a criminal.”

“Don’t they just?” He hugs his textbook close to his chest, nearly vibrating out of his skin. Finally, the moment he’s been waiting for—an opportunity to speak with you. “I’m amazed at how much time and research goes into each episode, and they always treat each case with tact. It deserves so much praise.”

Azul glances between the two of you. Riddle is sick with satisfaction. Once more, his blue hues land on him.

“You like criminals?”

“Not in that way, of course not.” Riddle shakes his head. What a preposterous assumption. “I find their minds to be exceedingly, bewilderingly captivating.”

Azul blinks back at him, owlish. He doesn’t seem to grasp most of what Riddle’s just said.

“In short, I think they’re a fine learning experience.”

“An experience? Non capisco.”

“For those wishing to pursue a career in criminal justice or law. Think of it like watching a tape from a criminal investigation. It’s important to study the interview techniques and tactics utilized by detectives to understand what’s most successful in gathering a proper confession.”

Azul nods along. “Ah, capisco.”

“We’ll cover things like that later in the semester. Don’t feel so overwhelmed, Azul.”

“I’m not. I learn as I go. Grazie, Professor. You’re very kind.”

“I’m happy to help. If you ever need anything, my office hours are on that sheet I gave you. I had a colleague of mine translate the syllabus for you. If you have any questions or need accommodations of any kind, let me know.”

“I will.” He fixes the strap of his backpack and, after bidding you a final farewell, stalks past Riddle out the door. His footsteps echo down the hall until eventually they’re no more.

“Riddle, if you have a moment, I’d like to speak with you.”

“Of course. Anything,” he says hastily, his heart stumbling in his ribs. 

“If you wouldn’t mind, could you help Azul out? I notice he struggles taking notes during lectures. If you’d be willing to share your notes with me so that I can get them translated, that would be great.”

Riddle doesn’t want to share, but this is an opportunity to be praised in spades. “I’d be glad to. I’ll scan and email them after each class.”

“Thanks, Riddle. Your notes have always been so organized. This is a huge help. I’m sure Azul will be just as grateful.”

I’m not doing it for him, he thinks, bitter and envious.

But he just smiles, standing a little taller when you compliment him.

Your notes have always been so organized.

What is he getting so territorial for? He’s had you for four classes in past years. Azul’s only known you for a few measly weeks. That’s nothing compared to the special bond you have with him.

Riddle isn’t worried.

1 September, 20XX.

Dear Diary,

(Name) Rosehearts has quite the lovely ring to it. Far more musical than that of (Name) Ashengrotto. I’m almost certain he sits there in class, silently drooling over Professor. Just last week, he took my seat at the front. The gall to do such a thing! Can you imagine? He must know that seat is the best for getting a perfect view of Professor. It’s childish to bicker over seating arrangements and I refuse to stoop to his level. That said, the seat is mine. Professor’s time is mine.

I’ve deigned to share my notes, but only because Professor put such faith in my abilities by personally asking me. Even though it’s foolish, I’m tempted to sabotage the notes so that Azul will have incorrect study material. But that would be unfair and an infraction upon all that I stand for when it comes to academic fairness. Thus, I’ve refrained from doing anything of that sort. I’m certain Professor would disapprove.

It makes me happy to know Professor listens to the podcast I recommended. I wish we could discuss it at length, but Azul is always there and he takes up so much of what little time there is. It’s infuriating. I wish he would just drop out of the class. That way it will be just Professor and me, as it was intended.

Perhaps he will once the coursework comes knocking.

Sincerely, 

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle slumps forward over his desk and combs his hands through his hair.

“That rotten Azul…” he sneers, his face scrunching into something sour. “He’s always monopolizing your time… Does he not realize how important it is to me—how much I look forward to talking to you? And you smile at him… You look at him with those sweet eyes of yours and he’s completely undeserving of such treatment! It never does anyone any good to be greedy, yet there he is…”

He inhales deeply, holds it for a few seconds, and then exhales.

What am I supposed to do? How can I make this right again?

Azul isn’t breaking any rules. It’s not a crime to seek you out for conversation after each class ends. But therein lies the issue. There is nothing wrong with that. It would be wrong if, say, there was an illicit exchange between the both of you. Like a taboo relationship of sorts…

Riddle startles in his seat, his eyes blown wide.

Azul isn’t having a secret affair with you, is he? Not that it could be considered cheating when you’re not yet married (and Riddle intends to keep it that way). He has a plan. When he graduates, there will be no formal barriers holding him back from starting a relationship with you. He can email you freely without the need to circle back to academics. He can invite you for tea or coffee and the two of you can chat about things that aren’t school, and it won’t be weird or overstepping boundaries. Because he won’t be your student anymore. He’ll be Riddle, your former student. And former students have better odds than current students, do they not?

He’s thought it out carefully. He was raised to be responsible, to do everything right.

And though he’s thought of it in passing—considered what might happen if he were to try to play at being a seductive siren—he’d never truly act on such folly. But Azul… It isn’t too impossible to theorize he might be sleeping with you for a better grade. What if he’s forced you into it? What if he has some sort of wicked blackmail? What if you’re holed up in your office every day, scared for your career, while Azul bends you over the desk and uses that boyish charm of his, that silky-smooth accent, to coax the sweetest of sounds from—

Riddle shakes himself free of that thought. He’s not going to imagine it any further. He doesn’t need to be plagued with graphic imagery, gross as it may be.

Even though he chases the fantasy from his brain, it returns to poke at him. He gazes at his lap, noticing the substantial strain in his pajamas, and groans.

It would be easier if he wasn’t where he is now. Logically, he’s aware he doesn’t have much of a chance. Neither does Azul. Unless he’s sleeping with you in secret. Then he has a chance. But he’s not. He can’t. That’s against the rules.

And even if he was, it wouldn’t be very fair for him to do the very thing Riddle’s abstained from.

His hand closes around his dick. He feels pitiful as he pumps himself to scandalous visions. 

It’s not fair.

He should have a chance. In a perfect world, he’d have you. He’s earned this, hasn’t he? He’s worked so hard. So why isn’t he allowed to have you?

It’s not fair.

Why does Azul get to relish in your attention when Riddle’s left alone in the shadows? Why can’t you look at him like you used to? Why can’t you praise him for knowing all the answers? Why can’t you tell him good work when he does just that? Why must you coddle Azul? Riddle thinks he can speak perfect English. He’s just playing it up to look weak and pathetic—to garner your sympathy!

It’s not fair. It’s not fair. It’s not fair.

He’s the good one. The one with perfect marks. The one with perfect attendance. The one every professor holds in high regard.

Riddle squeezes himself and sucks in a breath through grit teeth.

He’s not funny like Azul. He doesn’t have that awkward charm Azul has. He can’t speak another language fluently. He’s never traveled out of the country. He thinks he knows everything, but he only knows so much.

He can fascinate you with the intricacies of his mind, each fold primed for education, but Azul can do better because he has social experience.

Riddle can’t believe it. He, of all people, is jealous of someone.

Cum oozes from his dick and coats his fingers in a pearly-white. It isn’t satisfying.

Right then, he thinks his world would be better if Azul stayed in Italy.

Or maybe it would be better if Azul wasn’t in his world at all. 

On his way out of class, Riddle stops Azul in an empty corridor.

“I know what you’re doing,” he says, pointing an accusatory finger at him.

He blinks back, oblivious. And then he smiles, revealing a row of perfect teeth. “What I’m doing?”

Riddle won’t say it. He can’t. Because then he’d be admitting the truth Azul’s trying to pry from his heart, whether that’s his intention or not.

“You know very well what you’re doing.”

A silent head tilt is his reply.

His temper is nearing its boiling point. It’s been on a low simmer ever since Azul first bewitched you, and it’s threatening to spill over.

“I see the way you and Professor look at each other during class. You may think it discreet, but I know.” Riddle folds his arms over his chest, feeling very proud of himself for successfully playing Sherlock. “I can tell there’s nothing formal about it. So how long has this been going on? How long have you been flouting the rules?”

Azul stares at him. His shoulders shake with his chuckle. “You’re funny.”

Riddle startles. His accent—

“I’m here to learn just as you are. What I do outside of the classroom is none of your business, so it would please me greatly if you could stop prying.”

His eyes narrow into vicious slits. “If you lay a hand on—”

“Oh, I’ve done more than that.” Azul smooths the nonexistent wrinkles in his sweater vest. The same brand of sweater vest that Riddle wears. “But you have no proof. The courts here will want that, won’t they? Or is it harsher here? Will you need to peer inside Professor to see for yourself? I wouldn’t know. I’ve never committed a crime.”

Disgust pools in his stomach. He feels like he could vomit, and it isn’t because he’s appalled by the conspiracy Azul’s proposed. It’s because he should’ve been the one to do it if it was that easy. Instead, he musters a mean glare.

“Who are you, Ashengrotto? What do you want?”

“I’m just a student like you. I want to learn lots from Professor.” He brushes past Riddle, his voice a melodious hum. “And some things can’t be taught in the classroom.”

Riddle opens his mouth to let the angry tirade fall, but he chokes on the words. There’s so much he wants to say, but all of it will come out accusatory. And that’s where Azul has him pinned. It’s all baseless accusation.

He doesn’t want to believe it. Surely you wouldn’t… It’s impossible! An academic and social infringement! It’s wrong!

It should’ve been him.

Later that evening, cooped up in his room, Riddle scrawls furious lines in his diary: He’s a liar. A cheat. An embarrassment to this institution. I should be the one who holds Professor. I should be there in Azul’s place. I’ve worked so hard. I deserve it. I’ve earned it!

He can’t let this madness go on any longer. He won’t tolerate it.

Looking at it logically, Riddle has illustrated the negatives and the positives in his notebook.

If Azul’s insinuations are true, then all Riddle needs is valid evidence. Unfortunately, that would mean you might lose your job given the circumstances. If it’s consensual, both of you are equally at fault. If it’s not, Riddle hopes Azul will burn in a terrible blaze.

But if you do happen to lose your job, it would relieve some of the weight burdening his situation. He could start a real relationship with you. It’s plausible! Perhaps not very realistic, but there’s always a shred of hope to be found in misfortune. 

Riddle wonders if he should just ask you and save himself the headache.

He gazes sidelong at Azul, who has since claimed that seat for his own, and chances a glance at his open notes.

That’s Riddle’s handwriting.

He’s sure of it. That’s his handwriting. He writes his notes in cursive. He writes in a perfect, elegant slant. His letters always connect. There’s no denying it; that’s his handwriting on the page.

A disturbing thought crosses his mind: Has Azul been practicing my handwriting?

It sounds impossibly silly. Who would devote so much time to something so witlessly fraudulent? Riddle wracks his brain for a reasonable explanation. Why would he need to practice someone else’s handwriting? Riddle could understand if Azul struggled to write in English. Most of his work is submitted in his native language. You allow this exception even though Riddle finds it unfair. Maybe it’s because you treat Azul’s work like it’s something special, and you jump through all of these hoops just to get it translated. Why can’t you treat his work with that same amount of care?

Riddle drags his pen along the page, scribbling mindlessly. Why is he doing that? He has nothing to gain from writing like me.

But then Riddle realizes the notebook is the same as his. The same color, in fact. He wonders when Azul purchased a new one. Did he purchase a new one, or has he always had this one?

Riddle looks down at his notebook.

That’s Azul’s handwriting.

He blinks twice and rubs frantically at his eyes. When he looks back at Azul’s notebook, it’s to a page filled with Azul’s stylish scrawl.

Have I…been copying him this entire time?

No, surely not! He would never plagiarize. That’s one of the biggest sins of academia. He couldn’t live with himself if he did that!

Besides, he’s not the copycat. It’s Azul in his sweater vest, boasting the same writing implements as Riddle, using the same brand of notebook. Riddle’s not copying him. It’s Azul. It must be.

It can’t be Riddle. He’d never do such a thing.

After class, you call Riddle up to your desk. He hesitates, his heart thrumming wildly, and shuffles over.

“Yes, Professor?”

“Riddle, I’ve been wanting to talk to you about something.” You withdraw last week’s assignment from a folder and set it down. “You wrote this, did you not?”

Riddle scans the typed document. “I did, yes.”

“May I ask if the Italian was intentional?”

“The Italian?” he parrots, confused. “I don’t understand what—”

In between brilliantly articulated paragraphs, he’s sprinkled in Italian words and phrases.

He coughs out a rattled laugh. “I must have been studying it for another assignment before I did yours. I…can’t believe this happened. It was fully unintentional. I’m very sorry.”

His face is flushed cherry-red. He’s never felt more humiliated.

“It’s not a big deal. I just wanted to ask. It definitely confused me.” You take the paper from him, smiling that understanding smile he loves so much. But then, rather intrusively, he wonders how many times those soft-looking lips have been on Azul, wrapped around him, sending him to cloud nine… “I actually asked Azul to translate it for me. He said all of it was written correctly. You must be very adept in your Italian.”

“I… I suppose I am,” he answers after a tense minute.

His brain is swirling like sediment stirred up on the ocean floor. When did I pick up Italian? I’m not taking any language courses this semester. I don’t even own an Italian dictionary… Just what in the world is happening?

“Ah, you don’t have to look so pale! It’s not going to affect your grade. I only wanted to fulfill this nagging curiosity of mine. Thank you for all the good work you do.”

Riddle nods mechanically. When you ask if he has time to stick around and discuss more psychology podcasts, he shakes his head and mumbles a feeble excuse.

He tears through his desk and all of the drawers in his room in search of it. If it’s not there, he can relax. If it’s not there, he can chalk it up to stress. If it’s not there—

It’s tucked away in his bookshelf. A little pocket dictionary. English to Italian. And it’s been bookmarked and annotated.

Riddle pulls it from the shelf in a baffled daze. When did he get his hands on this? More importantly, when did he read through it? In a hurry, he empties the contents of his backpack and flips a few pages in his notebook.

His notes from class. Dated for today. Written in Azul’s script. And at the top of the page, an exact copy of his signature, a name that isn’t Riddle’s: Azul Ashengrotto.

Riddle peers at his trembling hands. He flexes his fingers, curls them into a fist and then unfurls them.

He seizes his psychology textbook next and skims the chapter index in search of an answer. He lands on it. Page 371. Dissociation.

Two minutes into a phone call with Trey, he’s asked a simple question: “Are you speaking with an accent?”

Riddle bristles. “Of course I’m not. Of…course I am not,” he says, sounding the words out. His brow furrows. Why does my tongue feel so clumsy in my mouth? “I’ve always spoken this way, have I not?”

“I can’t say. I mean, come on, Riddle. You’ve gotta be pulling my leg.”

“You know very well I don’t pull legs, Trey.”

“You told me buongiorno when I picked up.”

“I did not!” he snaps, scandalized. “I said good morning as I always do.” And then he pauses. “I… I did say good morning, didn’t I?”

Trey’s silence is answer enough.

Riddle sucks in a sharp breath. Neither of them says anything.

Eventually, Trey speaks. “Do you want me to come up there? I could bring you a tart or…something. You sound…tired.” He chooses his words carefully. “Silly question, I know, but I’ve gotta ask. You’re not overworking yourself?”

“No, not at all.”

“And you’re getting enough sleep? What about food?”

Riddle frowns even though Trey isn’t there to see it. “I’m fine, Trey. Midterms are coming up. I’ve got to focus. I refuse to fail.”

Again, the other end is quiet. A minute later, Trey says, “Do you have time this weekend?”

“This weekend?” Riddle flips his planner open to this week. “I do.”

“All right. Is it cool if I visit?”

Riddle almost declines, so it surprises both him and Trey when he replies with, “Please.”

“I’ll be there,” he promises, and the call ends before Riddle can say grazie.

Trey brings six strawberry tarts. Riddle shares three with him over tea at the campus café.

“So what’s up?” Trey points his fork at Riddle. “You sound like yourself, but you don’t seem…fine.”

Riddle chews thoughtfully. He can’t confide in Trey because Trey wouldn’t understand. Because he’d apply Trey Logic to everything, and Trey Logic is almost always sensible. Riddle doesn’t want to hear it.

“I submitted an assignment in Italian,” he says instead, casually, as if it’s not a big deal.

Trey looks at him like he’s grown a third eye. “Since when do you know Italian?”

“I dabble.”

Trey laughs. Upon seeing Riddle’s serious expression, the humor sticks in his throat. “Oh, you meant that. Well. That’s…good then? If it’s for a foreign language course—”

“It was for psychology.”

“You…wrote in Italian…for a psychology assignment?” he reiterates, attempting to parse it. He drags his fork through his cut of tart, but he doesn’t bring it to his lips. “Why?”

“I couldn’t say. It perplexed me to no end when I realized it. My professor thought it was curious.”

“It is. I mean, you don’t find that just a little…unusual?”

Riddle stares at him over the rim of his teacup. 

Trey tries again. “Was the Italian correct, at least? It wasn’t all nonsense?”

He nods. “It was as if I was translating and switching between words. Like using the Italian word in place of an English word.”

“Huh…”

“It’s not very impressive. I can do much better than that.”

“I’m not doubting your capabilities. I’m just…trying to understand why.”

Riddle smiles. “Why not? I think it’s very good to study another language. It opens more doors for opportunity, and it’s a challenge that proves rewarding in the end.”

“Is that it?”

“Precisely.”

The conversation comes to an abrupt halt there. Trey changes the subject. They chat the afternoon away.

Later, Riddle returns to his diary.

He writes an entire entry in perfect Italian. Workbooks pile up on his desk; he’s not sure when they got there. He’s filling them out so fast his hand gains new calluses. 

Azul visits your office around the same time Riddle used to. Now it’s Riddle who trails after him, hoping to catch him in the middle of a nefarious scheme. He’s not sure he’s ready for whatever he might learn, but he swallows his rage and carries on.

Azul turns just as Riddle ducks around the corner, perfectly out of sight. He waits until he hears the tell-tale click of those pristine Oxfords against linoleum before continuing. Azul walks right past your office and then he’s gone. Looking both ways, Riddle creeps further down the hall.

Where is he?

There’s a tap on his shoulder. He whirls around, startled, and is about to unleash verbal tyranny when he stops short. You stand there, looking positively puzzled. 

“Are you looking for something, Riddle?”

“No… I—” He cuts himself off. “Actually, I was hoping I might discuss something with you. The final project.”

“Oh, of course! Did you come earlier? I stepped out of my office for a second. Sorry if my absence had you looking all over.”

Riddle falls into step with you. “It’s quite all right.”

He’s not sure what he hopes to find by sitting in front of your desk, gazing at the familiar interior of your office. He manages to get through all of the questions you ask him regarding the final project.

“I have too many ideas,” he lies, “and I’d like assistance in narrowing the topics down to one.”

He glances slyly at the floor. Would Azul be bold enough to hide a voice recorder or a camera somewhere? Or is there something of Azul’s left in here? A cheeky means of marking his territory, maybe?

Riddle turns up empty.

He stalls the conversation expertly for ten more minutes. During that time, he can’t locate anything from his semi-thorough observations.

Maybe it’s hidden in your desk. Maybe there’s nothing at all.

No. No, there has to be something.

He thanks you for your help and, shouldering his backpack, leaves.

Just as he turns down the hall, Azul steps into his path.

“Your mind is exceedingly, bewilderingly captivating.” He snickers like a devil. Riddle wants to punch him. “So many ideas. Where do you have the space for all of that?”

“It’s not polite to eavesdrop.”

“Oh, is that so?” Azul taps at his phone and then turns the screen towards Riddle. There’s a picture of him in the hall, looking awfully disoriented. “It’s not very polite to stalk now, is it, amico?”

Riddle narrows his eyes. “How easily that accent comes. Almost like flipping a switch.”

“Non capisco.”

“You should know you’re going to ruin your life and Professor’s.”

“I’m not.” He smiles cryptically. “You’re going to ruin it for me.”

Fed up with his attempt at mind chess, Riddle stalks past him in a huff.

You walk into class five minutes late, disheveled and breathless. You’re babbling about a meeting that ran late, but Riddle can’t trust that.

Meetings don’t end in frazzled hair and crooked ties.

What’s even more damning, perhaps, is when Azul Never-Late-to-Class Ashengrotto walks in fifteen minutes after you. He sits in the seat beside Riddle. There’s not a hair out of place on his person. Except there is. The glass face of his luxury wristwatch is smudged with a fingerprint.

Riddle wonders what forensics would have to say about that.

He phases in and out of focus during the lecture. He can’t stop searching you for fine details. He can’t stop questioning Azul’s presence beside him.

How dare you? he thinks. How dare you defile my professor? What makes you think you have the right to do such a thing when I’ve been working hard all this time? When I’ve been nothing but perfect…

He glances at his notebook. A single phrase has been scrawled over and over, so manically that the lines loop and overlap in angry criss-crosses. Lo voglio morto.

At the end of class, Riddle catches Azul in the hall.

“I would like to review with you for our upcoming midterm.”

“What an honor.”

Riddle hums. “Let’s compare our notes tonight. You can stop by my room after dinner.”

Azul grins like he can read through Riddle. Like he’s in on a joke Riddle’s not privy to.

“I would be happy to study alongside you,” he says, his accent thick.

Riddle imagines a rope around his neck. A rope of thorns and barbed wire, pressing into his jugular until, inevitably, it severs his head clean off.

Azul arrives on time. He really does feel like an echo of Riddle. Same school supplies. Same notebooks. Same fashion style. Same manner of writing.

Riddle shuts and locks the door behind him. He doesn’t waste time waltzing around the subject.

“You’re the reason Professor was late today.”

“You’re mistaken. I simply lost track of the time.”

“That’s not true.”

“Then what is? I had nothing to do with Professor’s tardiness. If it bothers you so much, why not tell Professor to be more conscious of the time?”

Riddle grits his teeth. He’s sick of this. Sick of these mind games. Sick of all this mental chess.

Sick of the fact that he gets to have you when you should have been Riddle’s from the start!

“You’re a liar! Do you know the gravity of your actions—the severe consequences that’ll undoubtedly befall Professor? Do you know you’re jeopardizing a brilliant mind all for your own immature fun?”

Azul holds his hands up in mock surrender. “Those are harsh accusations. They could ruin my life, you know.”

“Oh, like that’s such an issue.” Riddle scowls.

“Your room is quite nice, I must say.” Azul looks around, his hands in his pockets. He spies the many Italian workbooks lining Riddle’s shelf, and a slimy smirk pulls at his lips. “Imitatore,” he marvels, his eyes bright with an eerie sort of joy. As if he’s just discovered a particularly filthy secret and can’t wait to tell someone.

“If it isn’t the pot calling the kettle black.”

“And what makes you think Professor would ever entertain you?” Azul rounds on him, still smiling. “Professor loves me most. There was never any room for you.”

Riddle hears the distant crackle of something fraying. “You’re wrong.”

“Am I? All I did was take your best characteristics and make them even better. Italian lovers are a romanticized ideal abroad. You were never an option, let alone a consideration.”

How dare you. How dare you. How dare you!

Azul steps towards the door. “Addio. Le mie condoglianze.”

That something inside Riddle finally snaps, and with it goes his restraint. He grabs Azul’s wrist and yanks him to the floor. There’s a struggle for survival. During the scuffle, Azul claws at Riddle’s arm and face. Riddle kicks him down. And then his fingers wrap around his psychology textbook—all 800-something pages, a hardcover—and he brings it down, brutal like a guillotine.

“How dare you walk away in the middle of a conversation!” he berates, lips curled in a monstrous sneer. “How dare you touch what isn’t yours—what you didn’t earn!”

He thinks he sees a real smile on Azul’s face, but in the midst of blind rage he can’t tell.

He sees red. He feels red. It splatters his room in a mess of broken bone and pulpy gore. It flecks his face, warm and thick and soupy.

It all ends with Intro to Psych.

Riddle is bathed in blue light, afloat on a chaotic sea.

Distantly, in the back of his mind, he can hear his mother in hysterics: What have you done?! Do you have any idea what you’ve just done—the future you’ve so carelessly thrown away?! All of my hard work?! Do you realize what you’ve done?!

And he does.

If there’s anything Riddle has ever been one-hundred-percent certain of in his life, it’s this. He sits on the steps to his dormitory, battered and bloodied, and bites into the strawberry tart clutched between crimson-stained fingers.

Despite the crisp autumn air, he feels warm.

An officer approaches him just as he’s licking his fingers clean of strawberry and blood.

He holds his arms out before the woman can say anything. He already knows what comes next.

Riddle has always wondered what criminals think and feel in the aftermath of grisly crimes. He can’t feel much of anything other than hollow relief. Maybe that’s just the adrenaline snuffing logical thought and remorse. He thinks everything and nothing all at once. He’s sure he’ll feel it all come crashing down when he’s sat in the station for questioning and then the reality of his actions will seep in, awakening him from a vile, murderous dream.

Right now, he isn’t concerned with that.

You lived filthy and you died just the same, Riddle thinks as he’s led to a police car. And now there’s no part of you Professor will ever want.

[alongtidesoflight]

in wake of yet another wave of people being turned off by windows, here's a guide on how to dual boot windows and 🐧 linux 🐧 (useful for when you're not sure if you wanna make the switch and just wanna experiment with the OS for a bit!)

if you look up followup guides online you're gonna see that people are telling you to use ubuntu but i am gonna show you how to do this using kubuntu instead because fuck GNOME. all my homies hate GNOME.

i'm just kidding, use whatever distro you like. my favorite's kubuntu (for a beginner home environment). read up on the others if you're curious. and don't let some rando on reddit tell you that you need pop! OS for gaming. gaming on linux is possible without it.

why kubuntu?

- it's very user friendly

- it comes with applications people might already be familiar with (VLC player and firefox for example)

- libreoffice already preinstalled

- no GNOME (sorry GNOME enthusiasts, let me old man yell at the clouds) (also i'm playing this up for the laughs. wholesome kde/gnome meme at the bottom of this post.)

for people who are interested in this beyond my tl;dr: read this

(if you're a linux user, don't expect any tech wizardry here. i know there's a billion other and arguably better ways to do x y and/or z. what i'm trying to do here is to keep these instructions previous windows user friendly. point and click. no CLI bro, it'll scare the less tech savvy hoes. no vim supremacy talk (although hell yeah vim supremacy). if they like the OS they'll figure out bash all by themselves in no time.)

first of all, there'll be a GUI. you don't need to type lines of code to get this all running. we're not going for the ✨hackerman aesthetics✨ today. grab a mouse and a keyboard and you're good to go.

what you need is a computer/laptop/etc with enough disk space to install both windows and linux on it. i'm recommending to reserve at least a 100gb for the both of them. in the process of this you'll learn how to re-allocate disk space either way and you'll learn how to give and take some, we'll do a bit of disk partitioning to fit them both on a single disk.

and that's enough babbling for now, let's get to the actual tutorial:

🚨IMPORTANT. DO NOT ATTEMPT THIS ON A 32BIT SYSTEM. ONLY DO THIS IF YOU'RE WORKING WITH A 64BIT SYSTEM. 🚨 (win10 and win11: settings -> system -> about -> device specifications -> system type ) it should say 64bit operating system, x64-based processor.

step 1: install windows on your computer FIRST. my favorite way of doing this is by creating an installation media with rufus. you can either grab and prepare two usb sticks for each OS, or you can prepare them one after the other. (pro tip: get two usb sticks, that way you can label them and store them away in case you need to reinstall windows/linux or want to install it somewhere else)

in order to do this, you need to download three things:

rufus

win10 (listen. i know switching to win11 is difficult. not much of a fan of it either. but support's gonna end for good. you will run into hiccups. it'll be frustrating for everyone involved. hate to say it, but in this case i'd opt for installing its dreadful successor over there ->) or win11

kubuntu (the download at the top is always the latest, most up-to-date one)

when grabbing your windows installation of choice pick this option here, not the media creation tool option at the top of the page:

side note: there's also very legit key sellers out there who can hook you up with cheap keys. you're allowed to do that if you use those keys privately. don't do this in an enterprise environment though. and don't waste money on it if your ultimate goal is to switch to linux entirely at one point.

from here it's very easy sailing. plug your usb drive into your computer and fire up rufus (just double click it).

🚨two very important things though!!!!!!:🚨

triple check your usb device. whatever one you selected will get wiped entirely in order to make space for your installation media. if you want to be on the safe side only plug in the ONE usb stick you want to use. and back up any music, pictures or whatever else you had on there before or it'll be gone forever.

you can only install ONE OS on ONE usb drive. so you need to do this twice, once with your kubuntu iso and once with your windows iso, on a different drive each.

done. now you can dispense windows and linux left and right, whenever and wherever you feel like it. you could, for example, start with your designated dual boot device. installing windows is now as simple as plugging the usb device into your computer and booting it up. from there, click your way through the installation process and come back to this tutorial when you're ready.

step 2: preparing the disks for a dual boot setup

on your fresh install, find your disk partitions. in your search bar enter either "diskmgr" and hit enter or just type "partitions". the former opens your disk manager right away, the latter serves you up with this "create and format hard disk partitions" search result and that's what you're gonna be clicking.

you'll end up on a screen that looks more or less like in the screenshot below. depending on how many disks you've installed this might look different, but the basic gist is the same. we're going to snip a little bit off Disk 0 and make space for kubuntu on it. my screenshot isn't the best example because i'm using the whole disk and in order to practice what i preach i'd have to go against my own advice. that piece of advice is: if this screen intimidates you and you're not sure what you're doing here, hands off your (C:) drive, EFI system, and recovery partition. however, if you're feeling particularly fearless, go check out the amount of "free space" to the right. is there more than 30gb left available? if so, you're free to right click your (C:) drive and click "shrink volume"

this screen will pop up:

the minimum disk space required for kubuntu is 25gb. the recommended one is 50gb. for an installation like this, about 30gb are enough. in order to do that, simply change the value at

Enter the amount of space to shrink in MB: to 30000

and hit Shrink.

once that's done your partitions will have changed and unallocated space at about the size of 30gb should be visible under Disk 0 at the bottom like in the bottom left of this screenshot (courtesy of microsoft.com):

this is gonna be kubuntu's new home on your disk.

step 3: boot order, BIOS/UEFI changes

all you need to do now is plug the kubuntu-usb drive you prepared earlier with rufus into your computer again and reboot that bad boy.

the next step has no screenshots. we're heading into your UEFI/BIOS (by hitting a specific key (like ESC, F10, Enter) while your computer boots up) and that'll look different for everyone reading this. if this section has you completely lost, google how to do these steps for your machine.

a good search term would be: "[YOUR DEVICE (i.e Lenovo, your mainboard's name, etc.)] change boot order"

what you need to do is to tell your computer to boot your USB before it tries to boot up windows. otherwise you won't be able to install kubuntu.

this can be done by entering your BIOS/UEFI and navigating to a point called something along the lines of "boot". from "boot order" to "booting devices" to "startup configuration", it could be called anything.

what'll be a common point though is that it'll list all your bootable devices. the topmost one is usually the one that boots up first, so if your usb is anywhere below that, make sure to drag and drop or otherwise move it to the top.

when you're done navigate to Save & Exit. your computer will then boot up kubuntu's install wizard. you'll be greeted with this:

shocker, i know, but click "Install Kubuntu" on the right.

step 4: kubuntu installation

this is a guided installation. just like when you're installing windows you'll be prompted when you need to make changes. if i remember correctly it's going to ask you for your preferred keyboard layout, a network connection, additional software you might want to install, and all of that is up to you.

but once you reach the point where it asks you where you want to install kubuntu we'll have to make a couple of important choices.

🚨 another important note 🚨

do NOT pick any of the top three options. they will overwrite your already existing windows installation.

click manual instead. we're going to point it to our unallocated disk space. hit continue. you will be shown another disk partition screen.

what you're looking for are your 30gb of free space. just like with the USB drive when we were working with rufus, make sure you're picking the right one. triple check at the very least. the chosen disk will get wiped.

click it until the screen "create a new partition" pops up.

change the following settings to:

New partition size in megabytes: 512

Use as: EFI System Partition

hit OK.

click your free space again. same procedure.

change the following settings to:

New partition size in megabytes: 8000 (*this might be different in your case, read on.)

Use As: Swap Area

hit OK

click your free space a third time. we need one more partition.

change the following settings to:

don't change anything about the partition size this time. we're letting it use up the rest of the resources.

Use as: Ext4 journaling system

Mount Point: /

you're done here as well.

*about the 8000 megabytes in the second step: this is about your RAM size. if you have 4gb instead type 4000, and so on.

once you're sure your configuration is good and ready to go, hit "Install Now". up until here you can go back and make changes to your settings. once you've clicked the button, there's no going back.

finally, select your timezone and create a user account. then hit continue. the installation should finish up... and you'll be good to go.

you'll be told to remove the USB drive from your computer and reboot your machine.

now when your computer boots up, you should end up on a black screen with a little bit of text in the top left corner. ubuntu and windows boot manager should be mentioned there. naturally, when you click ubuntu you will boot into your kubuntu. likewise if you hit windows boot manager your windows login screen will come up.

and that's that folks. go ham on messing around with your linux distro. customize it to your liking. make yourself familiar with the shell (on kubuntu, when you're on your desktop, hit CTRL+ALT+T).

for starters, you could feed it the first commands i always punch into fresh Linux installs:

sudo apt-get update

sudo apt-get upgrade

sudo apt-get install vim

(you'll thank me for the vim one later)

turn your back on windows. taste freedom. nothing sexier than open source, baby.

sources (mainly for the pictures): 1, 2

further reading for the curious: 1, 2

linux basics (includes CLI commands)

kubuntu documentation (this is your new best friend. it'll tell you everything about kubuntu that you need to know.

and finally the promised kde/gnome meme:

[wowbright]

Transferring your Kindle library to calibre: The Easiest Way

For people who are trying to get their Amazon Kindle libraries imported into calibre, this is the easiest method I have found.

Pros:

easy if your entire library fits on your Kindle

Faster and less clicking than manually downloading each book onto your computer from the Amazon website and then importing it into calibre

It allows you to import "Docs" from your Amazon Digital Content as well as "Books"

Does not require you to understand coding language or how to use scripts

This method should continue to work after February 26th (when Amazon will no longer allow manual downloads from its website to your computer)

Cons:

you have to use whispersync (only a con if you can't use or are opposed to using whispersync)

Doesn't work if you don't own a Kindle

These instructions are for the latest edition of calibre in Windows, but it works similarly on Mac (typos ahead because I am dictating this and my dictation does not spell calibre nor many other things correctly):

On your Kindle:

Download every Book and Doc you have stored in the Kindle cloud. You have to do this one at a time so it's boring, I did it while watching TV and listening to podcasts.

On your desktop:

Download and install calibre

Open caliber

Click on preferences from the top menu, roll down to add plugins

Install the KFX input plugin

Do an internet search for "NoDRM" caliber plug in. The latest version is 10.0.9. download and unzip the file folder. There are zipped files inside that folder. Leave those zipped files alone.

Go back to caliber, go to preferences, select advanced, select tags. You have the option of importing plugins from your desktop. Choose that option. Through that option, go to the folder you just unzipped and click on the "NoDRM" or "DeDRM" zip file. It should install.

IMPORTANT: click on customize plugin. A screen will appear where you can enter the serial number from your Kindle. You must enter a serial number or this plugin will not work.

Connect your kindle to your computer using a USB cable. A device icon should show up on the menu at the top of your caliber window. Click on the device icon.

A list of all the books and documents you have downloaded onto your Kindle should appear in the library window. Select all of them using the ctrl-A keyboard shortcut. Right click and choose "add to library".

Wait until caliber says you are done importing. Then you can disconnect your Kindle.

You've done it! If you want to convert everything to a more universal file type like EPUB, go to your library, select all, right click, choose Convert Books > bulk convert, choose EPUB as your output format in the top right corner of the window, then hit okay in the bottom right corner of the window. Wait for the process to complete before quitting caliber!

If you get a message saying that you cannot open your Kindle books or that they cannot be converted, it's probably because you did not enter your serial number, you did not save it, or you entered it incorrectly. Go back to the plug-in settings and check on them. Other than that, I can't give you any tips because I only figured all of this stuff out yesterday!

[ominous-faechild]

Hey how do you do the color gradient thing for your dialog tags?

Assuming you mean these things, I've actually been meaning to make a guide of my own for a while lol.

For one, you can only do this on computer/the website of Tumblr! There's no option to select this stuff on the app.

STEP 1: CREATE A NEW DOC / GO TO SETTINGS

It opens a dropdown menu/whole screen full of options!

From there, select the "text editor" dropdown, which starts as displaying "rich text".

Select "HTML"

And it should change how the entire post looks!

STEP TWO: CHEAT

Yeeeeeaaaaah, so I use a website for this lol

I inserted my colors for faeries (#30853C) and Cloud (#6DC1B4) for my example of "these things" earlier. To make this easier, I most often have two windows open at a time while working on uploading my scripts to Tumblr.

To get colours to insert into the Text Colorizer website, you can use any kind of hex color picker or even this one website I've used to yoink "thematic" colors from photos!

Personally, I've developed a massive library of colors over time for this exact purpose lol. Using my old colors as a "base", I can change it accordingly to the kind of "new color" that I want for a specific character or thing!

(I'll use the website to also make gradients for "in-between" colors lol)

STEP 3: INSERT TEXT / DESIRED COLORS

To make Nova's gradient, I start with #A600D9, my color for Magic, and end with #F56745—their individual color. However, being as it's short, I'll use a quote from them instead lol.

Once you've inserted your text and colors, you will click in the text box I highlighted in red, ctrl+a and ctrl+c to copy it all, and go back over to your new tumblr post tab!

From there, you'll ctrl+v to paste the entirety into the HTML area, which pastes the code into your post!

AND VOILA!

You have gorgeous gradient text!

However, I want to give a fair warning and a bit of advice! If you didn't notice wayyyyyyy back when...

Tumblr warns that this all can break your formatting!

It doesn't do it too often, but take it from someone who does an obscene amount of formatting... it's 100% true.

STEP 4: CHEAT SOME MORE!

For this reason, I personally have a whole separate draft post full of my characters' colors (and names lol) that I use to copy-paste them in from rather than using the "html" text editor on every post!

I mentioned earlier I often have multiple windows open while editing? Here's what that looks like!

Additionally, I'll use a separate tab off on the left (my "current wip post" side) with the "html editor" enabled for me to copy-paste stuff!

(Also here's yet another example of how many colors I have)

Once again, you can ctrl+c these things to paste them into another tumblr post with the correct colors!

And it's ONLY possible to do on the website!!!

EXTRA INFO!

WARNING:

Tumblr will only allow each "paragraph's html to be so many characters long, so you can't have too big of anything in a gradient!

And by "anything"... I mean you really can't have that big of a gradient in general. RIP lol.

It straight-up won't save the post so long as you have that "overflow" in the character block! MAKE SURE YOU'VE FIXED IT, OR YOU CAN AND WILL LOSE ALL PROGRESS ON YOUR POST!

SINGLE-COLOR TIP:

You don't need the website for a single color! If you'd like, you can just change the "color code" within the html editor to change specific colors!

MAKE SURE COLORS CAN WORK ON DIFFERENT BACKGROUNDS!

On desktop, you can use shift+p while not on any sort of textbox to change the color pallet! I always do tests to see which colors work best before settling on any!

(Tho, the blue background SPECIFICALLY is nightmarish to work around. So if that's the ONLY thing I can't make work, I often ignore it and let you guys who use it suffer lmao)

(Hopefully this'll give you guys some respect for me and how much I do to make my posts aesthetic af lol)

Also hopefully this all helps???

divider by @cafekitsune

[lostintransist]

In and Of Itself

Simon has joined a new military pilot program. An AI therapist will have access to his memories to help him deal with his traumas from the inside out. To bad he doesn't need any help dealing with the mess inside his head from a robot.

AO3

CW: Mentions of rape and general Simon big T Trauma.

The whistling is not the first thing he expected from an AI therapist. The pitch drop spoke of being impressed. His eyes snapped open and his body to standing with less pain than he had experienced in a decade.

A woman stood before him, shorter than himself, though most people were. Hair barely held back by a headband and one hand holding her wrist behind her back Simon watched her. Could it be a her if it was an AI? The attempt to parse through the pronoun situation of an unliving thing set his eye twitching.

He respected that different people used different ones; Johnny had asked to go by they/them before they had died. That had been quite a conversation as Simon tried to wrap his head around a concept that had never occurred to him before. He had never examined that he always felt male, masculine, man until Johnny asked him if he did. When he confirmed that yes, he always had felt like a man Johnny smiled and replied.

“I barely feel human most days Si, someone used them when referring to me recently and I have never felt more at ease in my skin. I’ve been play-acting being a man because I’m a person and nothing more.”

Simon still didn’t fully grasp it but he loved Johnny enough to immediately adhere to the request. Johnny had been gone less than a year later.

The woman, thing? Turned and smiled up at him.

“You must be deeply suicidal my friend,” you stuck out a hand as if for a shake. “I am your AI therapist. It’s good to meet you.”

Yes, death haunted his every thought, a shadow that loomed even in the darkness of night. Johnny called to him. The only thing that kept Simon from answering was the idea of Johnny’s face falling as they had seen what Simon had done.

Simon glanced from the hand offered to the distance, finally taking in the shifting scenery made of a tapestry of his memories. His childhood hell, he refused to call it home, sat perpendicular to the base where he first had been sexually assaulted as a recruit. He had been thin and unskilled at seventeen when he joined, unable to fend off his superior officer. Briggs had been dead a few short years later under friendly fire. Simon had found out that even after he broke the man’s hand, he continued to assault young men. The distant mountains spiked his fear, he turned from them back to the presentation of a woman.

“The hell is this?” he pointed with his eyes at each of the horrible spaces that were normally shrouded in time and distance.

“Those are your demons,” you shrug in his side vision. “Those are what we are here to conquer.”

“Don’t need help from a damn computer,” Simon groused.

You tip your head to one side, studying the distant storm brewing over the mountains.

“Maybe not, but that is what you signed up for.” Simon catches sight of your skirt as you spin, it flairs wide. Are those planets dotting the dark landscape of it?

Did the programmer base this interface’s outfits on Ms. Frizzle? Simon watches the storm until he notices the emptiness beside him. Spinning he finds you striding toward a large tree. It had been a favorite of his until he started to find animals hanging in the branches. The wide low branches were perfect for his young self to climb. They were thick nearly all the way up; Simon would climb as if he could hide among the clouds.

He hadn’t signed up for this damn program, he had been strong-armed into it. Word had come down from the top commanders that several of the longest-serving or highest combat-seeing members would be signed up for an experimental treatment. Simon had been selected and told essentially to sign the paperwork or sign his discharge. He didn’t need to explain this to a chip inside of a machine. He didn’t need to explain anything to the shape of a woman who twirled with planets on its skirt because you, it, wasn’t real.

The moment your feet touch the roots of the old tree your outfit changes. A shimmer and you now move confidently in boots, jeans, and a buttoned plaid. Your headband has been replaced with a loose band holding back your hair. You lift yourself into the tree with ease, feet disappearing before Simon could get close.

Your voice drifts down to him.

“Ooo you had quite a nasty surprise here, didn’t you? Had to be what eight? Maybe nine?” The tree shakes as if you are jumping on branches.

No reply from him brings your head popping between the branches. You hang upside down by your knees staring at him with a brow lifted.

“This only works if you answer my questions, your scary ‘I’ve killed people’ face won’t work here. I’m in your mind,” you wiggle your fingers at him as you lift a brow at him.

When he makes no response you loop a hand over the branch and swing your legs free.

“Tough crowd,” you dust yourself off as Simon folds his arms and stares at you.

Your presence in his mind stirs up his rage, he dealt with all of this trauma fine. He would deal with it without your help.

“Don’t need help from a damn computer,” Simon groused.

You tip your head to one side, studying the distant storm brewing over the mountains.

Your presence in his mind stirs up his rage, he dealt with all of this trauma fine. He would deal with it without your help.

“Don’t go touching things, you aren’t real and I don’t need you to deal with all of this,” he dropped the words between you.

Eyes narrowed you look from his boots to the top of his head. It is only now that he realizes he is not wearing a mask. He tries to conjure one but fails.

“Nice try, the one thing you won’t be able to do here is mask, physically or emotionally.” You smile up at him as if you haven’t ripped at his only coping mechanism in this hellscape. “You remember your quitting word?”

“Mothman,” he growls and the simulation dissolves.

Simon blinks awake as a blood pressure cuff squeezes his arm.

A face in a surgical mask leans over him and looks at both his eyes.

“How are we doing Mr. Riley?”

“Not dead.” His voice is horse.

“That is the goal around here, too much paperwork if you croak on us,” his nurse joked. “The doctor will be by shortly to look over your vitals and clear you for leaving.”

She stepped from his small curtained partitioned space, leaving Simon to his thoughts. They weren’t pleasant ones.

When the doctor confirms that he is good to go the nurse returns and removes the plethora of wires, sticky buttons, and tubes from his nose and veins. He was told his implant, near the base of his skull, would be removed when the project concluded. Simon sat up and rubbed both hands across his face before sliding his mask back on.

He could mask, even in his mind. He would find a way to keep you, the creepy AI from rattling around in his mind while he cleared the skeletons and specters himself.

In and Of Itself Masterlist | Masterlist | AO3

Shout out to the spectacular @ms-sasa for going back and forth with me on how to outline/plot this fic!

[lazeecomet]

The Story of KLogs: What happens when an Mechanical Engineer codes

Since i no longer work at Wearhouse Automation Startup (WAS for short) and havnt for many years i feel as though i should recount the tale of the most bonkers program i ever wrote, but we need to establish some background

WAS has its HQ very far away from the big customer site and i worked as a Field Service Engineer (FSE) on site. so i learned early on that if a problem needed to be solved fast, WE had to do it. we never got many updates on what was coming down the pipeline for us or what issues were being worked on. this made us very independent

As such, we got good at reading the robot logs ourselves. it took too much time to send the logs off to HQ for analysis and get back what the problem was. we can read. now GETTING the logs is another thing.

the early robots we cut our teeth on used 2.4 gHz wifi to communicate with FSE's so dumping the logs was as simple as pushing a button in a little application and it would spit out a txt file

later on our robots were upgraded to use a 2.4 mHz xbee radio to communicate with us. which was FUCKING SLOW. and log dumping became a much more tedious process. you had to connect, go to logging mode, and then the robot would vomit all the logs in the past 2 min OR the entirety of its memory bank (only 2 options) into a terminal window. you would then save the terminal window and open it in a text editor to read them. it could take up to 5 min to dump the entire log file and if you didnt dump fast enough, the ACK messages from the control server would fill up the logs and erase the error as the memory overwrote itself.

this missing logs problem was a Big Deal for software who now weren't getting every log from every error so a NEW method of saving logs was devised: the robot would just vomit the log data in real time over a DIFFERENT radio and we would save it to a KQL server. Thanks Daddy Microsoft.

now whats KQL you may be asking. why, its Microsofts very own SQL clone! its Kusto Query Language. never mind that the system uses a SQL database for daily operations. lets use this proprietary Microsoft thing because they are paying us

so yay, problem solved. we now never miss the logs. so how do we read them if they are split up line by line in a database? why with a query of course!

select * from tbLogs where RobotUID = [64CharLongString] and timestamp > [UnixTimeCode]

if this makes no sense to you, CONGRATULATIONS! you found the problem with this setup. Most FSE's were BAD at SQL which meant they didnt read logs anymore. If you do understand what the query is, CONGRATULATIONS! you see why this is Very Stupid.

You could not search by robot name. each robot had some arbitrarily assigned 64 character long string as an identifier and the timestamps were not set to local time. so you had run a lookup query to find the right name and do some time zone math to figure out what part of the logs to read. oh yeah and you had to download KQL to view them. so now we had both SQL and KQL on our computers

NOBODY in the field like this.

But Daddy Microsoft comes to the rescue

see we didnt JUST get KQL with part of that deal. we got the entire Microsoft cloud suite. and some people (like me) had been automating emails and stuff with Power Automate

This is Microsoft Power Automate. its Microsoft's version of Scratch but it has hooks into everything Microsoft. SharePoint, Teams, Outlook, Excel, it can integrate with all of it. i had been using it to send an email once a day with a list of all the robots in maintenance.

this gave me an idea

and i checked

and Power Automate had hooks for KQL

KLogs is actually short for Kusto Logs

I did not know how to program in Power Automate but damn it anything is better then writing KQL queries. so i got to work. and about 2 months later i had a BEHEMOTH of a Power Automate program. it lagged the webpage and many times when i tried to edit something my changes wouldn't take and i would have to click in very specific ways to ensure none of my variables were getting nuked. i dont think this was the intended purpose of Power Automate but this is what it did

the KLogger would watch a list of Teams chats and when someone typed "klogs" or pasted a copy of an ERROR mesage, it would spring into action.

it extracted the robot name from the message and timestamp from teams

it would lookup the name in the database to find the 64 long string UID and the location that robot was assigned too

it would reply to the message in teams saying it found a robot name and was getting logs

it would run a KQL query for the database and get the control system logs then export then into a CSV

it would save the CSV with the a .xls extension into a folder in ShairPoint (it would make a new folder for each day and location if it didnt have one already)

it would send ANOTHER message in teams with a LINK to the file in SharePoint

it would then enter a loop and scour the robot logs looking for the keyword ESTOP to find the error. (it did this because Kusto was SLOWER then the xbee radio and had up to a 10 min delay on syncing)

if it found the error, it would adjust its start and end timestamps to capture it and export the robot logs book-ended from the event by ~ 1 min. if it didnt, it would use the timestamp from when it was triggered +/- 5 min

it saved THOSE logs to SharePoint the same way as before

it would send ANOTHER message in teams with a link to the files

it would then check if the error was 1 of 3 very specific type of error with the camera. if it was it extracted the base64 jpg image saved in KQL as a byte array, do the math to convert it, and save that as a jpg in SharePoint (and link it of course)

and then it would terminate. and if it encountered an error anywhere in all of this, i had logic where it would spit back an error message in Teams as plaintext explaining what step failed and the program would close gracefully

I deployed it without asking anyone at one of the sites that was struggling. i just pointed it at their chat and turned it on. it had a bit of a rocky start (spammed chat) but man did the FSE's LOVE IT.

about 6 months later software deployed their answer to reading the logs: a webpage that acted as a nice GUI to the KQL database. much better then an CSV file

it still needed you to scroll though a big drop-down of robot names and enter a timestamp, but i noticed something. all that did was just change part of the URL and refresh the webpage

SO I MADE KLOGS 2 AND HAD IT GENERATE THE URL FOR YOU AND REPLY TO YOUR MESSAGE WITH IT. (it also still did the control server and jpg stuff). Theres a non-zero chance that klogs was still in use long after i left that job

now i dont recommend anyone use power automate like this. its clunky and weird. i had to make a variable called "Carrage Return" which was a blank text box that i pressed enter one time in because it was incapable of understanding /n or generating a new line in any capacity OTHER then this (thanks support forum).

im also sure this probably is giving the actual programmer people anxiety. imagine working at a company and then some rando you've never seen but only heard about as "the FSE whos really good at root causing stuff", in a department that does not do any coding, managed to, in their spare time, build and release and entire workflow piggybacking on your work without any oversight, code review, or permission.....and everyone liked it

[justsimplytalented]

The Halfway Point of Longing

Gun X Goo, ft OC

Word count: 3,000+

I've been having some intense writer's block for the past few days, and it was a struggle just to get this written, but I managed to do it! Please enjoy the fic...

The relentless drumming of rain against the bookstore window was a monotonous counterpoint to the quiet rustle of pages. Han Soojin, perched on a stool behind the counter, was engrossed in a well-worn copy of "The Count of Monte Cristo," the dramatic tale a welcome escape from the usual humdrum of her Saturday shift. The bell above the door jingled, announcing a customer.

Soojin looked up, ready with a polite greeting, but her words caught in her throat. Standing just inside while shaking droplets of rainwater from his impeccably styled hair was Gun Park. He rarely frequented this part of town, let alone her small independent bookstore. He scanned the shelves with an unreadable expression, his dark eyes lingering briefly on the manga section before moving on.

He wasn't alone. Leaning against the doorframe, a wide and almost predatory grin splitting his face, was Goo Kim. Even on a dreary day, Goo managed to exude an almost blinding level of chaotic energy. His vibrant blond hair was slightly damp, and he held a clear plastic umbrella haphazardly, seemingly more for show than actual protection from the rain.

Soojin swallowed, a flicker of unease prickling at the back of her neck. While she wasn't directly involved in the messy world of underworld gangs, she was quite aware of the power these two individuals wielded. Their presence together, especially in her quiet sanctuary of books, felt like a storm cloud had just rolled in.

"Well, well, well," Goo drawled, his voice carrying a playful, almost mocking tone that echoed in the small space. "Look what the cat dragged in. Or should I say, what Gun dragged in. Feeling literary today, my dear Gun?"

Gun ignored him, his gaze now fixed on a shelf filled with classic Korean literature. He reached out and gently pulled out a slim volume of poetry.

"Just looking," he stated, his voice low and even, a stark contrast to Goo's theatrical pronouncements.

Goo pushed himself off the doorframe and sauntered further into the store, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he surveyed the surroundings. "Such a quaint little place. Smells like old paper and… existential dread. I approve." He picked up a small, leather-bound journal from a display near the counter and flipped through its blank pages with exaggerated interest. "Imagine all the angst one could pour into this. Tragic love affairs, betrayals, the crushing weight of societal expectations…" He sighed dramatically, placing a hand over his heart. "Ah, the human condition!"

Soojin, trying to maintain a semblance of normalcy, offered a small hesitant smile. "We have a wide selection of journals if you're interested."

Goo's head snapped up, his gaze locking onto hers. His smile widened, revealing a hint of something sharper beneath the playful facade. "Oh? And what do you think I should fill it with, hmm? Perhaps a detailed account of my many daring exploits? Or maybe a heart-wrenching ballad of unrequited love?"

Before Soojin could formulate a reply, Gun spoke, his voice cutting through Goo's theatrics. "We're not here to browse for your sentimental scribblings, Goo." He turned towards the counter, the poetry book still in his hand. "I need this."

Soojin blinked, surprised. Gun Park, reading poetry? It was an image that didn't quite compute with his fearsome reputation. She took the book from him, her fingers brushing against his briefly. His hand was surprisingly warm.

"It's a collection by Kim Sowol," she explained while trying to ignore the curious gaze of Goo, who had now perched himself on the edge of a nearby armchair, his chin resting on his hand. "His work often explores themes of longing and loss."

Gun simply nodded, his expression still unreadable. Soojin rang up the purchase, the silence in the store punctuated only by the rhythmic tapping of the rain and the soft whir of the credit card machine.

As Gun paid, Goo suddenly straightened up, his eyes gleaming with an almost mischievous light. "Say, Gun, since we're already making a detour from our… important business, wouldn't it be terribly rude to leave without properly experiencing the local culture?" He gestured vaguely around the bookstore. "Perhaps a friendly chat with the proprietor? Or maybe a dramatic reading? I know just the passage from Hamlet…"

Gun shot him a look that could have frozen molten steel. "We have things to do, Goo."

"Oh, come now," Goo persisted, undeterred. "A little cultural enrichment never hurt anyone. Besides," he lowered his voice conspiratorially, though Soojin could hear every word, "you know how tedious waiting for our… acquaintance can be. This is far more stimulating, wouldn't you agree, Miss…?" He trailed off, looking expectantly at Soojin.

"Han," she supplied, feeling a blush creep up her neck. "Han Soojin."

"Miss Han," Goo repeated, drawing out the syllables with exaggerated politeness. "A pleasure. You have a lovely establishment. It reminds me of a forgotten corner of a grand estate, filled with secrets and whispered stories."

Soojin wasn't sure if she should be flattered or slightly unnerved by the comparison.

Gun sighed, a halfway rare display of exasperation. "Fine, Goo. Five minutes." He turned to Soojin. "Sorry for the intrusion."

"It's… no problem," she stammered, feeling the weight of their combined presence in the small space.

Goo clapped his hands together. "Excellent! Now, Miss Han, tell us, what is the most tragically romantic tale you have within these hallowed walls? Something to truly stir the soul!"

Soojin hesitated, glancing at Gun, who was now examining the spine of another book, seemingly trying to distance himself from Goo's antics. "Well," she began, thinking quickly, "there's 'The Sorrows of Young Werther'…"

Goo gasped dramatically. "Ah, yes! The quintessential tale of unrequited passion and ultimate despair! A masterpiece!" He launched into a theatrical recitation of a particularly melodramatic passage, complete with sweeping gestures and a pained expression.

Soojin watched him, a strange mix of amusement and bewilderment swirling within her. He was undeniably ridiculous, yet there was a certain captivating energy to his performance. She glanced at Gun, expecting to see annoyance, but his expression was surprisingly neutral, almost… tolerant.

After a few minutes of Goo's dramatic flair, Gun cleared his throat. "Time's up, Goo."

Goo sighed dramatically, as if being pulled away from the greatest performance of his life. "Alas, duty calls. It has been a truly enlightening experience, Miss Han. Perhaps we shall meet again, under less… literary circumstances." He winked, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Gun simply nodded curtly at Soojin before turning to leave. Goo followed, pausing at the doorway to give her one last exaggerated bow.

As the bell jingled again, signaling their departure, Soojin let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. The silence that followed felt almost deafening. She watched through the rain-streaked window as Gun and Goo disappeared down the street. The two may have worked together, but they were heavily contrasting figures: one tall and imposing, the other flamboyant and energetic. She glanced at the pair one more time as they were quickly swallowed by the grayness of the afternoon before turning back to her shop.

She wondered what "important business" had brought them to this quiet corner of town and why Gun of all people had bought a book of poetry. And then there was Goo… His over-the-top personality was certainly something she wouldn't soon forget.

Life returned to its usual quiet rhythm. Customers trickled in, browsed, and left. Soojin tried to lose herself again in the adventures of Edmond Dantès, but her concentration kept drifting back to the unexpected visit. There was something about the dynamic between Gun and Goo, a strange sort of understanding beneath the surface that intrigued her.

Two weeks had soon passed. Soojin had almost relegated the bookstore encounter to a strange, slightly surreal memory. Then, one particularly slow afternoon, the bell jingled again. This time, it was just Gun.

He was dressed in his usual dark attire, his presence still commanding despite the casual setting. He walked straight to the counter, his gaze meeting hers briefly before he placed a small, slightly worn paperback on the counter.

Soojin recognized it instantly. It was another collection of Kim Sowol's poetry, this one looking like it had been read multiple times.

"Do you have anything else by this author?" Gun asked, his voice quiet.

Soojin, surprised but trying not to show it, nodded. "Yes, we have a more comprehensive anthology in the back. I can get it for you."

She retrieved the larger volume, her mind racing. What had sparked Gun's interest in poetry? Was it a genuine appreciation, or something else entirely?

As she placed the anthology on the counter, Gun’s gaze fell upon a small display of handcrafted bookmarks. He picked up one made of pressed flowers, its delicate beauty a stark contrast to his usual image.

"He liked things like this," Gun said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Soojin frowned slightly, confused. "He?"

Gun hesitated for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, he simply shook his head. "Never mind. How much for the anthology?"

Soojin rang up the purchase, a sense of curiosity lingering. As Gun paid, he glanced towards the armchair where Goo had held his impromptu Hamlet recital weeks ago. A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips before vanishing as quickly as it appeared.

He took the book and the bookmark, his movements precise and efficient. "Thank you," he said, his eyes meeting Soojin's again. There was a flicker of something in their depths, something that wasn't coldness or command, but… something else.

As he turned to leave, Soojin found herself saying, "You know, Kim Sowol's poetry often explores the complexities of relationships, the unspoken emotions, and the lingering echoes of connection."

Gun paused at the door, his back to her. He didn't turn around, but she saw a slight tensing in his shoulders. After a moment of silence, he simply nodded once and stepped out into the late afternoon sun.

The bell jingled softly behind him, leaving Soojin alone again with her books and thoughts. She couldn't shake the feeling that she had just glimpsed a side of Gun Park that few others ever saw.

A few more weeks drifted by. Soojin had almost convinced herself that the poetry incident was a one-off, a strange anomaly in the otherwise predictable flow of her days. Then, one evening, as she was locking up the bookstore, she saw him.

Goo Kim was leaning against a lamppost across the street, his blond hair vibrant even in the dimming light. He spotted her and pushed himself off the lamppost, a wide grin spreading across his face.

"Miss Han! Fancy meeting you here," he called out, strolling across the street towards her.

Soojin felt a sigh escape her lips. "Hello, Mr Kim."

"Please, call me Goo," he said with a flourish. "We're practically old acquaintances by now, bonded by the sacred texts of literature, wouldn't you say?"

Soojin simply nodded, not quite sure how to respond to his usual brand of theatricality.

"I was just in the neighborhood," Goo continued, his eyes twinkling. "And I thought, why not pay a visit to our favorite purveyor of fine literary wares?" He glanced pointedly at the bookstore. "Though, alas, it seems I've missed closing time."

"Yes, I was just locking up," Soojin confirmed, jingling her keys.

"A pity," Goo said, feigning disappointment. "But perhaps this presents an even more intriguing opportunity. Might I perhaps offer you some… after-hours enlightenment? A stimulating conversation about the deeper meanings of life, perhaps over a cup of something warm?"

Soojin hesitated. She wasn't entirely comfortable with Goo, his unpredictability making her wary. But there was also a strange curiosity, a desire to understand the connection between him and the seemingly stoic Gun.

"I was just heading home," she said cautiously.

"An excellent direction!" Goo exclaimed. "Allow me to accompany you. Think of it as… literary protection. One never knows what dark forces lurk in the shadows, yearning to snatch away those who appreciate the finer things in life."

Soojin found herself reluctantly agreeing. As they walked, Goo launched into a rambling monologue about everything from the latest fashion trends to the philosophical implications of instant ramen. He was a whirlwind of chaotic energy, his words punctuated by dramatic gestures and sudden shifts in topic.

Soojin mostly listened, offering occasional polite nods or brief responses. She tried to steer the conversation towards Gun, but Goo was surprisingly evasive, deflecting her questions with witty remarks or elaborate anecdotes that led nowhere.

Finally, as they reached the corner near her apartment building, Soojin stopped. "Well, this is me," she said, relieved that the impromptu escort was coming to an end.

"Ah, such a shame," Goo said, though he didn't seem particularly disappointed. He leaned against a nearby wall, his eyes fixed on her with a curious intensity. "You know, Miss Han Soojin… you seem like someone who sees more than what's on the surface."

Soojin raised an eyebrow, surprised by the sudden shift in his tone.

"Gun… he's not exactly the most open book, is he?" Goo continued, his usual playful demeanor softening slightly. "But there are things… things that even he can't keep hidden."

Soojin waited, sensing that he was leading somewhere.

"That poetry," Goo said, a faint smile playing on his lips. "It wasn't for him, not really. He was… remembering someone. Someone who appreciated those words."

A sudden understanding dawned on Soojin. The pressed flower bookmark… the quiet question about other works by Kim Sowol…

"Someone… important?" she ventured.

Goo's smile widened, though there was a hint of melancholy in his eyes. "Let's just say, someone who left a rather… significant void. A void that even Gun Park can't entirely fill with brute force and calculated strategies."

He pushed himself off the wall. "Well, I should be going. Wouldn't want to overstay my welcome or, heaven forbid, bore you with my ramblings." He gave her a mock salute. "Until our next literary encounter, Soojin."

And with that, he turned and disappeared into the night, leaving Soojin standing on the corner, the weight of his words settling upon her.

Over the next few months, Soojin noticed subtle changes. Gun frequented the bookstore more often, always gravitating towards the poetry section. He never spoke much, but he would often ask her about different authors or specific poems, his questions surprisingly insightful. Sometimes, she would even catch him looking at the pressed flower bookmark he had bought, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes.

Goo would occasionally stop by the bookstore as well, his visits always chaotic and unpredictable. He would often tease Gun about his newfound interest in poetry, his words laced with a strange mix of amusement and something that almost resembled… understanding.

One rainy afternoon, both Gun and Goo were in the bookstore at the same time. The atmosphere was thick with unspoken tension, a silent acknowledgment of their complex relationship. Gun was browsing the poetry shelf, while Goo was perched on his usual armchair, flipping through a graphic novel with exaggerated sound effects.

Soojin was helping another customer when she heard Goo suddenly say something, his voice cutting through the quiet murmur of the store. "You know, Gun, that particular poem… the one about the fading memories… It always struck me as particularly tragic. To hold onto something so tightly, knowing it will eventually slip through your fingers like sand…"

Gun didn't respond, his back still to Goo. But Soojin saw his hand clench slightly around the book he was holding.

Goo continued, his tone softening almost imperceptibly. "But perhaps… perhaps the beauty lies not in the permanence, but in the fleeting moment itself. The intensity of the feeling, however brief, can leave an indelible mark."

Still, Gun remained silent.

Soojin finished with her customer and walked over to the counter, feeling an almost voyeuristic sense of witnessing a private conversation.

Goo looked up at her, a knowing glint in his eyes. "Miss Han here understands, don't you think? The power of words to capture even the most elusive of emotions?"

Soojin nodded slowly. "Poetry often allows us to express things that are difficult to say directly."

Gun finally turned, his gaze meeting Soojin's for a brief moment before shifting to Goo. There was a flicker of something in his eyes; it wasn't anger, it wasn't annoyance, but something akin to… vulnerability.

"Shut up, Goo," he said, his voice low but lacking its usual sharp edge.

Goo simply grinned, unfazed. "Just offering my profound insights, my dear Gun. Wouldn't want you to wallow in melancholic silence."

A tense silence hung in the air for a moment, broken only by the drumming of rain against the window. Then, something unexpected happened. Gun walked over to the armchair where Goo was sitting and, without a word, placed the book of poetry he had been holding on the small table beside it.

He didn't look at Goo and didn't offer any explanation. He simply turned and walked towards the counter, placing a different book in front of Soojin; it was a collection of short stories.

"I'll take this one," he said, his voice back to its usual neutral tone.

Soojin rang up the purchase, her mind reeling. It was a small gesture, almost insignificant, but it felt like a crack in Gun's usually impenetrable armor. A silent acknowledgment, perhaps of Goo's earlier words, or maybe even a shared understanding of the weight of unspoken emotions.

As Gun paid, Goo watched them both, a rare, almost serene expression on his face. He picked up the discarded poetry book and idly flipped through its pages, a soft smile playing on his lips.

Gun took his new book and turned to leave. He paused briefly at the door, glancing back at Goo, who was now engrossed in a poem. Their eyes met for a fleeting moment, a silent communication passing between them that Soojin couldn't quite decipher. It wasn't animosity, nor was it overt affection. It was something… else. A complicated tapestry woven from shared experiences, battles fought side-by-side, and the lingering echoes of a past love.

Then, Gun was gone, the bell above the door jingling softly in his wake.

Soojin looked at Goo, who had now closed the poetry book and was looking at her with a knowing glint in his eyes.

"Interesting, wouldn't you say?" Goo murmured, placing the book back on the table. "Our stoic Gun, finding solace in verses of longing and remembrance."

Soojin nodded slowly. "It seems there's more to him than meets the eye."

Goo chuckled softly. "Oh, Soojin, my dear. There's always more than meets the eye with everyone. Especially with him." He stood up, stretching languidly. "Well, I suppose I should be going as well. Wouldn't want to miss out on all the exciting mayhem the world has to offer."

He paused at the counter, his gaze softening slightly as he looked at Soojin. "Thank you for the literary interlude. It's… surprisingly grounding, amidst all the chaos."

Soojin offered him a genuine smile this time. "You're welcome, Goo."

As Goo turned to leave, he hesitated at the door, just as Gun had. He didn't look back at Soojin, but his voice, when he spoke, was uncharacteristically quiet. "And Soojin… sometimes, the halfway point is where the most important discoveries are made. The space between what was and what could be."

He didn't elaborate; he just simply stepped out into the rain-streaked evening and disappeared in the opposite direction from Gun.

Soojin watched them both go, a thoughtful frown creasing her brow. The encounter had left her with more questions than answers, but also with a sense that she had witnessed a small, significant moment in the strange and complicated relationship between Gun Park and Goo Kim.

She looked at the poetry book Goo had been reading, then at the short story collection Gun had purchased. Two different genres, perhaps reflecting two different facets of their intertwined lives. The longing for what was lost, and the search for new narratives.

The rain continued to fall, washing the streets clean. Inside the quiet bookstore, Soojin began to tidy up, the echoes of dramatic pronouncements and unspoken emotions lingering in the air. She didn't know what the future held for Gun and Goo, or what their halfway romance truly entailed. But she had a feeling that their story, much like the verses in the worn poetry book, was far from over. And perhaps, just perhaps, they were both slowly finding their way towards a new chapter, guided by the lingering echoes of a shared past and the uncertain promise of a future yet to be written.

Just writing this took up so much of my motivation! I've been reading other fics, stories, and just books in general so I can try and get some new ideas to write, and it's working a bit.

I'll try to get something posted again before next Thursday, but I can't promise since I still might not have any motivation by then.

But as always, thank you for deciding to read this! If you like it, don't be afraid to give me a suggestion on what I should write next! My requests are always open!

[andthekitchensinkao3]

20 Questions with a Fanfic Author

Thanks for the tag @lavender-tea-fling :D I’m always surprised when someone tags me in these things - keep ‘em comin’!

*cracks knuckles* … *no, not really, because OW*

1. How many works on AO3?

I TOO HAVE 48 WORKS ON AO3! Find them all at this handy-dandy link: andthekitchensink

2. Total AO3 Word Count?

I’m almost embarrassed to tell. 947,443 words. How can there be almost 1 MILLION words on there?!?!?!?!

3. Top 5 Fics by Kudos (disclaimer: I loathe kudos. The hits go up, but the kudos stay at the same “Less than 10%” of hits, and even fewer people leave comments, so I’m left convinced nobody likes my stuff, or are being too polite to be mean in the comments)

Silent Treatment - Detroit: Become Human AU, in which Connor is a human, Selectively Non-Verbal, and there are no androids. Instead there’s a Nefarious Government Project having used children as lab rats. It’s basically a sci-fi thriller.

Great Pretenders - also DBH. Undercover as a Couple, Hankcon. Mutual pining, a convention dedicated to getting the most out of one’s relationship - what could possibly go wrong?

Tapestry of Time - Loki (TV) my first ever Lokius fic, full of Norse mythology. A fix-it fic set after the series finale.

Spa Day - five chapters of Hankcon smut. Gentle dom Connor, greedy sub Hank.

Metamorph - my first ever DBH fic, and also my first ever AO3 fic, uploaded back in 2018. Hankcon, set after the events of the game.

4. What fandoms do you write for?

I have written for FAKE, Yami no Matsuei, The Sentinel (TV), Star Trek: Deep Space 9, Metal Gear Solid, Harry Potter, Final Fantasy VIII, an anime style fighter game I can’t even remember the name of, Tin Man - but those aren’t on AO3. I’m not even sure I still have copies of them. Might have gotten lost in one of my computer crashes. This was before the days of cloud storage, people. Even going so far back as the days of ~dial up modems~. I also stopped writing fanfic altogether because I didn’t fit into fandom spaces, and some interactions with other fans made me think I couldn’t write for shit.

Be kind to your writers, folks. I didn’t write for ten years. Imagine the fics I could’ve written if I’d had more love from my fellow fans.

More recently, since I got my own AO3 account, I’ve written for Detroit: Become Human, Person of Interest, Loki (TV) and Dragon Age: The Veilguard.

5. Do you respond to comments?

I try to always respond to comments, but I have the memory of an empty fishbowl, and I work a fulltime job. So if I’m late to respond, it’s not because I don’t love your comment. It’s Life(™).

6. Angstiest Ending?

I don’t do angsty endings. I do angsty everything leading up to the end, which invariably ends on a happy note.

7. Fic with the Happiest Ending?

All of them, but I am particularly fond of the ending to A Promise Kept, my Lokius fairytale mashup set in the world of Baldur’s Gate 3.

8. Do you get hate?

So, that anime style fighting game I can’t remember the name of? The creator of Manly Guys Doing Manly Things once roasted my fic in the comments for being too stereotypical of the shounen ai genre - ie beefy boys crying, angst galore, so on. My sole claim to fandom fame, I guess. But no outright hate.

9. Do you write smut?

OH YEAH BABY

10. Do you write crossovers?

I want to, but I seldom come up with a neat way of meshing two fandoms and sets of characters together. A Promise Kept is my only finished project thus far. I do write AUs, though.

11. Ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge. Kids. Don’t steal people’s fics. Write your own.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated

Nope. I suppose I could translate one of my own into Swedish, but… I don’t see the point.

13. Have you ever cowritten a fic?

I co-rp’d 200 pages worth of historical romance fanfic with a dear friend once. That was fun.

14. All time favorite ship?

Why you wanna make me choose? Come on. I will say, though, I shipped Kirk/Spock even as a kid, because they were so obviously in wub with each other and I thought they made a cute couple. Ah, Star Trek reruns back in the eighties… 

15. WIPs you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I have a Hankcon/Passengers (movie) AU that I’m not sure I’ll finish. But never say never. Inspiration might strike again!

16. Writing strengths?

I’ve been told I do dialogue well, and that I’m funny. IMHO I think I’m kinda good at plot twists, but I’ll let the reader be the judge of that.

17. Writing Weaknesses?

I am utterly self conscious of Telling too much, versus Showing too little. But I’m working on it.

18. Thoughts on mixed language dialogue?

I do it all the time, when appropriate to a character. Being bi-/multilingual myself, it’s always fun. I’m a language geek at heart.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

FAKE - the anime/manga about two cops in love.

20. Favorite fic you’ve ever written?

Again with the choices, tut tut. However, I am REALLY fond of How to Create a Monster, in which Connor goes deep undercover to expose a drug kingpin preying on androids.

Tags under the cut!

@ghoulehhh @natendo-art @in-my-loki-feels @kusakichan15

@devilbearingtrouble @impulsemuppet @mirilyawrites @scifikimmi @silentxsymphony

@rin-love-is-green @confetti39x @stillwanderingflame

@insert-witty-user-name-here @blackbirdofasgard @dreamycloud @distracteddream

@mobius-m-mobius @dilfmobius @adorbspotat @lgwilt

 @redheadsramblings @starfleetteddybear @mercars-musings @starrose17 @holyglassbone @genocidalfetus @wolfpup026 @elodiah @lokimobius @thosegayoldmen @kcscribbler @tinygameralec @notyourmamasdeerbat AND anyone else not mentioned 🧡💜💚

[t0paz616]

Part 1- Edited & Posted on AO3

Bulkhead and Wheeljack had been called to investigate an energon signal coming from a new mining operation in Washington. Miko, the only human on base at the moment, stuck her head up from where she was drawing a caricature of Ratchet throwing a tantrum at a daisy.

Wheeljack caught her eye meaningfully as he went through the groundbridge, and the two of them grinned at each other before the mech disappeared in a cloud of energy. Miko was going to sneak out.

The teenager quietly put down her drawing pad and pencil. Contrary to popular belief, Miko could be almost completely silent. But she saved that skill exclusively for scheming like this.

She slid off the couch, landing on the ground with a soft tap. Oops. A little too careless. She descended the stairs soundlessly and, once out of Ratchet’s view, broke into a dead sprint towards the artifact vaults. Miko’s goal? The Apex Armor.

She slid to a stop in front of the rolling door that served as a vault for this particular relic. Pretty pathetic, if you asked her. Any ‘Con that might break in here could rip through that door like it was paper. Miko slapped the red button that opened the door, and it began to rise. She ducked under it impatiently.

There it was. Miko’s favorite toy. She scaled the table it was on and stood next to it, grinning down on it. The artifact sparkled mischievously. She crouched, and leapt straight onto the center of the Armor’s condensed form. The very instant her shoes made contact with the metal, it unfolded from itself like a flower to surround her in a pod of metal. 

Ha, she was getting better at activating it! The Armor had taken a full second to react the very first time she made contact with it. It got faster and faster every time.

In the darkness, the second step began. More metal emerged and enveloped Miko’s limbs. The walls of the pod rolled and shifted to form loosely around her body, filling points of movement with a soft, silicon-like material. Metal and a flash of something bright and clear fluttered past her face, and the transparent visor settled in front of her. She was ready.

All that was left now was to get Ratchet away from the groundbridge so she could sneak through it. Miko crept as quietly as she could in the armor, her footsteps making soft clanks as she returned to the main area. 

Ratchet was still at the computer, slowly typing away with his index fingers. Miko searched around for something she could throw. There– a small piece of rubble left over from a previous mission. She swiftly crouched down, picked it up, and stood up again.

Miko threw the human palm-sized rock into the opposite corner of the large room, producing a thud that echoed in the quiet room. Ratchet’s head lifted, and he stopped typing to investigate the noise.

While he was walking over to where the rock had hit, Miko used his loud, clanking pedesteps to disguise the fact that she was racing over to the groundbridge controls, selecting the last coordinates to be typed in, and throwing down the switch to open it. The wild, noisy whirling of the groundbridge filled the room, and a shout of “MIKO!!” echoed from behind her, but she was already through. 

Time to join the party.

***

Miko, Bulkhead, and Wheeljack were hot off the mission. They had gotten five whole cartfuls of raw energon for them to process and add to their stores. Bulkhead was weakly scolding her for coming along, while Wheeljack was praising her guts and ambition.

"Not bad, kid! You took down a whole lotta Vehicons out there," he comments, grinning.

"Yeah!! It was so cool!! I was like WHAM BAM and that one at the front with those new grenades the Decepticons have just collapsed like it was made of paper or something and then I ducked down and ran forward and BOOSH I got those two with my arms and--" Miko's excited spiel was cut off by angry stomping coming in their direction.

Ratchet.

"Miko! How many times have I told you to stop taking the Apex Armor for your little adventures?! That is a priceless, ancient artifact of Cybertronian culture we know almost nothing about!"

Miko bristled inside the armor. "It's not like it's getting used very much! I'm doing something useful with it instead of just letting it rust in a vault!"

The medic scoffed. "It's still not yours. Now get. Out."

Miko's angry posture quivered for a few seconds more, then her shoulders sank defeatedly. She knew Ratchet would keep pushing. "Fine."

The teenager turned her attention to the controls that had swallowed her arms. It was odd that they had shown up for her, as anyone else using it would be much larger than her and could control the limbs with their own. It was also odd that the Apex Armor was even able to recognize her presence in the first place.

When she had first jumped on top of it in the middle of the fight with Starscream, she half expected it to do absolutely nothing to protect her. But it had encased her in plates of thick, strong metal, surrounding her legs, arms, and individual fingers and giving Miko total control over the titan that transformed out of the dense shape.

Inside of each of the four controls there was a subtle button that controlled a lock on the outside, allowing her to leave at will. She shifted her pointer finger inside the metal "glove" to tap the button.

Nothing happened. Miko's brow creased. She tried the other three controls. Still no reaction. She tried again, frantic.

"Hey, Miko! Come on out of there, the monster truck show you like is coming on!" Bulkhead beckoned to her from over near the TV, smiling.

She opened her mouth. "Gimme a minute, Bulk, I'm having a little trouble getting out." More taps at the button, more and more, dozens of times yielding no results. What was going on?!

"Ratchet, I need help!" Miko cried, panicked. "It's not letting me out!"

The medic turned his head towards her. “What?! What do you mean it won’t let you out?!”

The teenager exhaled sharply, fogging up the visor briefly. “You heard me right the first time, Ratchet! I can’t get out.” 

He grabbed one of his tools and walked over to her.

“Can you retract the visor?” He questioned. The medic lifted his tool. It was a glorified colonoscopy scope, just a camera attached to a long, flexible wire. “Let me look, I don't entirely believe you.”

Miko nudged her head to the side, depressing the button for the transparent visor. It slid down, and she breathed a small sigh of relief.

In the background, Bulkhead frowned, got up, and left the room.

Ratchet stuck the camera straight in her face. “Hey!!” Miko yelped. She shuddered as the camera then slid down her chest and into the small cavity around her body. Ratchet’s face was still with concentration as he stared intently at the computer monitor. 

The controls were larger around her limbs than they used to be. They looked to be more than doubled in thickness from the original single layer of metal and wires. 

Ratchet made a ‘hmm’ sound. “Try the button again, Miko.”

She pressed the release button yet again. On the monitor, metal shifted, and the two of them perked up. As they watched, though, it quickly became apparent that the button was still not working, and the shuffling metal was in fact two more layers building up around her. The Apex Armor was not letting her go.

Ratchet swore quietly. “I’m going to go get Optimus, see if he has any insight on the situation.”

“Already done, Ratchet!” Bulkhead had returned, with Optimus following behind him.

Miko and Ratchet turned to face the new arrival. Ratchet pulled the camera out of the Armor, and the trapped girl put the visor back up with a snap.

The Prime came up to the computer monitor. “May I see the playback of the footage?”

“Of course,” replied Ratchet. He pressed a button, and the view of what the camera had seen began to play.

Optimus watched passively, his eyebrows contracted slightly, through the first part of the footage, and his frown deepened as the Armor’s utter refusal to let go was made clear to him.

Ratchet stepped close to him. “I was wondering, since we know almost nothing about this relic, do you think any of the Thirteen might know something?”

The Prime stood straighter. “An excellent idea, old friend. I will consult the Matrix.” He turned to leave. He stopped. “Oh, Miko… It may be a while before I am able to get any answers. I advise you to take a seat and watch your show.”

Miko stared blankly. She sat, thoughts whirling. She hadn’t meant to cause trouble with the Apex Armor. She was just so bored all the time, and with the other humans gone it was even worse.

She hoped she wasn’t stuck forever.

[amessageonthewind]

PC Storage System

The Pokémon Storage System was invented by Bill in 1995 with Lanette as a co-developer of the software, designed for people to be able to store more than six Pokémon in a global database where their Pokémon could be converted into raw data and safely kept somewhere they could be easily accessed through interacting with a PC or an otherwise capable link in order to access the database. It is capable of storing both Pokémon kept in Poké Balls and Pokémon eggs in their natural states.

The Pokémon Storage System is managed my multiple different people globally in order to troubleshoot, improve, and maintain it. Bill maintains it in Kanto and Johto.

Celio maintains it in the Sevii Islands and also runs the Pokémon Network Centre on One Island which is responsible for providing a method of facilitating global trading. He also helped develop the Global Terminal in Johto and Sinnoh for this same purpose.

Lanette maintains it in Hoenn and is primarily in charge of the user interface and enabling personal Trainer customization of the Box System with wallpapers and giving Trainers the ability to change the names of boxes and the like as well as streamlining the process and making the interface more user-friendly.

Bebe maintains it in Sinnoh and actually built it from scratch as a computer technician based on the previous designs of the system by Bill and Lanette, earning their respect, and developing a way to make it so that the system can be accessed by Trainers from anywhere without the need to access a PC.

Amanita maintains it in mainland Unova and developed it based on the previous designs of Bill, Lanette, and Bebe, introducing a new feature of a Battle Box where Trainers can store a team they use specifically for battling and making it so that Trainers start out with eight boxes available to them and that each time each box is storing at least one Pokémon, the capacity will increase by another eight boxes and then by another eight boxes once the same conditions are met again, making the total capacity of Unova’s PC Storage System seven-hundred-and-twenty Pokémon per Trainer.

Cassius maintains it in Kalos and despite being a capable computer technician, he has made no significant contributions to the operations or design of the PC Storage System. In fact, his sole role is keeping it maintained and was personally tasked by Bill himself to take on that role.

Molayne maintains it in Alola and runs the Hokulani Observatory and, like Cassius, makes no significant contributions to the operations or design of the PC Storage System and simply maintains it.

Brigette (Lanette’s older sister) and Grand Oak (relation to Professor Samuel Oak unclear) manage the PC Storage System everywhere else and in every other capacity, typically on a more global scale. They maintain a more centralized PC Storage System that acts as the bridge between all the others and the network that facilitates global trading. Brigette is credited with upgrading the Pokémon Storage System with the ability to hold fifteen-hundred Pokémon per Trainer, as well as the ability to select and move multiple Pokémon at once. She is also the developer of the Bank System, which acts as an online cloud where Pokémon can be transferred if their Trainers have to move regions and need to access them from the local PC Storage System in their target region and other similar purposes. Grand Oak, however, is more interested in completing a comprehensive National Pokédex by collecting the data from Pokédex holders all over the globe into one central database.

Taglist:

@earth-shaker / @little-miss-selfships / @xelyn-craft / @sarahs-malewives / @brahms-and-lances-wife

-

@ashes-of-a-yume / @cherry-bomb-ships / @kiawren / @kingofdorkville / @bugsband

Let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from my taglist :3

[ames-draws]

Since this was done in procreate, here's the process video! Some details under the cut.

Process Notes

Start with a loose sketch - I had my reference photo open on my computer screen for this. Sketch is the top layer and set to multiply

Block in basic shapes on separate layers

Start adding texture using black and white on a clipping mask set to overlay with the opacity adjusted

Build in some colour variation

I decided to break the single green layer into three to help with layering. I just duplicated the green layer twice, used layer mask to erase roughly, then applied the layer masks. Now I have 3 layers for my green areas

Then I put them on alpha lock and used a smudge brush to remove some of the definition I had initially put in, and added looser texture with more colour variation and attention to the three distinct layers of vegetation

I also decided I wanted more definition on the clouds here, so you can see I added back a lot of sky then added more defined clouds

I continue to use the black and white overlay technique to add texture to some areas

To get a good outline of the highest vegetation layer against the sky, I add a layer mask and roughly erase the top part with black, then switch to white and add back details to the edge using a leafy brush (I love this technique)

For areas like the short grass and asphalt path, I add texture to a layer then use the resize > distort tool to give it the right 3D angle, THEN I make it a clipping mask and do my overlay/opacity trick

As I get close to the end of painting, I select all 3 green layers and use the liquify tool to make some adjustments, and then focus on details like the line of grass where the path curves out of sight

Last 2 layers are a pink layer on screen mode, adjusted to the opacity I want, then a layer of black with a soft white spot in the middle, set to overlay with its opacity adjusted as well

And done!

[argentangelhelps]

HOW TO SCREENCAP & POST YOUR CAPS : A MOSTLY COMPREHENSIVE GUIDE

i got an ask about this, and it felt like it was too long of an explanation to answer in an ask so i made this guide. i am definitely not the expert (as proven by the fact that my VLC tutorial is two links to better tutorials than i could ever make) , but i hope this is helpful!

TABLE OF CONTENTS - finding stuff to cap - capping 101 - storage

FINDING STUFF TO CAP the less "crime" you do while doing this the better honestly. make someone else do it for you and if you absolutely must sail the seven seas 🏴‍☠️ for the love of god use a good vpn and anti-virus. the safest way to find downloads is to find pages who post them for you to use - on tumblr that is hdsources ! we love hdsources here - there are also pages on instagram (and apparently the site formerly known as twitter, but i don't use those) who post downloads of stuff. my favorites on insta are megaawrld_ , logolessfiles, djatsscenes, sadisticscenes and elyse.logoless . to get into these pages you do have to have an instagram account, but once you get in you can get links to them posting shows and movies. this is significantly safer than p*racy. the next step if these pages don't have what you want is to get them yourself through other ways. if you have to do that, GET A FUCKING VPN.

CAPPING 101 now that you have something to cap, it's time to actually make screencaps. you're gonna wanna download a program to do that. most people use VLC, i use adapter for the most part but it can be fickle so i'm learning to use VLC too.

adapter doesn't require much in depth so here's a quick tutorial: - have file and drop it into the window (it can read mp4 and mkv files) - select where you want your screencaps to end up, i make a folder for them - select your frame rate (how many images you want to generate per second of video. i tend to do 1, and anything over 5 creates so many pictures that its too much to deal with, but if you're making gifs you want more pictures) - select your file size and image quality.

i could not explain VLC to you if i tried, i am still figuring out how to use it. this tutorial & this tutorial have been very helpful though !

STORAGE

honestly this should have probably come first, but i didn't want to scare people. there are two types of storage, physical and cloud storage. to run a resource blog you need both.

physical storage comes in the form of space on a hard drive. your computer has a limited amount of space and i truly do not suggest keeping every screencap you've ever made on your computer's hard drive. screencaps take up A LOT of space. get an external hard drive and get the beefiest one you can afford. ssds (solid state drives) are fast as fuck. depending on how much content you make (and how much you can afford) get at LEAST 2 tbs but maybe get more. i like this guy cause it's fast and small!

if you just came here to learn how to screencap you can stop here unless you want to learn how to back up your files because that's really what cloud storage is for.

cloud storage is storage that is not on your actual computer. you cannot touch it but it's important if you want to make your screencaps available for other people to use.

i'm a big fan of dropbox, mega, mediafire and if you absolutely must use it google drive. (my preferences are in that order) unfortunately, cloud storage gets really expensive really fast and there's kind of no way to avoid it. compress your files when you upload them so they take up less space in whatever form of cloud storage you do get, and pray.

that's what i got for ya! if you have any questions feel free to send an ask or join my discord server!

[daemonhxckergrrl]

Tell me about printer protocols o3o

off the top of my head....lesgoooooo

Bonjour isn't a printing protocol but it is a service protocol...idk if it does all device discovery or just printers. apple thing. anyway, uh pretty sure apple also use CUPS, or parts of it. which again, service protocol. that's that good Common UNIX Printing System. okay.

so we got a CUPS an we got a printer. an they gotta talk. idk how it used to work, but since at least the mid 00s printers typically use something called PostScript. or maybe GhostScript. which could jus be PS but a funnye FOSS version ???? special language that the microcontroller in a printer can convert into what colours it gotta mix and put where. i gotta start looking all this up bc it's been a hot min.

assuming the printer is physically plugged to the computer this is all done as a serial connection. since USB is serial. we don't talk about the parallel port. idk how network stuff affects this but presumably it's just wrapped in IP packets ?

printers are brats. and this is fine. this was fine. until companies started making them dystopian as fuck. i can handle a printer being a bit of a dick sometimes, selectively working. i can't handle ink-subscription-based DRM. or cloud print only. or any of that shit.

tbh i would be happy saving to a usb drive, walking to the printer room and plugging that drive in. no fuckery required. if you want stuff to print out remotely that's what fax is for. we should bring back fax.

you might be able to tell i've watched a lotta CRD

this got a bit off topic lmao but if u want me to re-inform myself on how printer talk then i can do

[edutainer2022]

It's Scott Tracy's birthday, but all my WIP stories are kinda angsty atm. So I decided to revisit this little thing on the day - it always makes me smile. It's mind-numbing fluff. A morning talk-show with Jeff Tracy upon return to Earth provides grounds for some much needed revelations. And hugs.

ONE WORD ANSWERS

As interviews were going these months, this was a smaller one. Done privately from the desk in the lounge via a holo-com. Ever since the dramatic return from Oort Cloud, already christened the "Rescue of the Century", every media outlet worldwide wanted a piece of him. Jeff didn't feel much like putting up with most of it - eight years in outer space on meager rations and slim hope was a brutal awakening once they were safely back on Earth. Besides, he'd rather not waste any more time than necessary on media coverage, away from his family. He'd done his fair share of that in his active duty days, and Lord knew he had A LOT to catch up with in his sons' lives. A lot! Some things he gleaned and pieced together in observations and a backlog of reports were more... thought provoking than others. But some visibility was needed and even expected. He understood that.

The interview for a morning show in a different timezone was to be short, capped up with a ten-questions blitz to lighten the mood. The outline of questions, as per usual, was screened by John and Tracy Legal, and pre-approved by Jeff himself. His only recommendation this time around was the order of points in a blitz.

If the boys were surprised he asked them to sit in through the interview, obscured by the sunken lounge, they didn't show it. Jeff made sure everyone was on the island, Scott back from NYC and the Tracy Industries Board full of questions and incessant worries as to the perspective changes in status quo, Alan back from campus orientation, even John planetside for the weekend (something that had become a frequent and welcome habit). They knew Dad sometimes struggled with social situations these days and needed some cheering along and support - which was provided with unreserved abandon.

The interview was running its course smoothly, as they neared the 10 questions section. The show anchor was all smiles - the mock-blitz questions were submitted by the viewers and the most frequent or special ones were selected.

- So, Mr. Tracy, you were the First Man on Mars, the Founder of International Rescue, you set multiple supersonic speed records. How would you describe yourself in one word?

Oh, that was an easy one. He would have used so many words years ago as applied to himself - some more on point, some vain. A pilot. An astronaut. An entrepreneur. A husband. A son. A Thunderbird. A man of the world. A friend. A savior. A failure. An idealist. A leader. A survivor. Jeff Tracy still was all those things, in different measures. But eight years of the endless night, with nothing but his thoughts, memories and dreams for company, have distilled his self-awareness to one point of absolute clarity:

- A father.

He could hear the collective breath escape his sons' lips and a soft glow washed over their features.

The blitz went on.

- What are you most proud of?

That too was a no-brainer, but he might need more than one word to answer exhaustively. Never hurts to elaborate on global television:

- My sons. There are no words to express how proud I am of their accomplishments and of the incredible people they grew up to be: my youngest son Alan is a prodigy, the youngest rocket pilot in history, Gordon is an Olympic champion, an environmental activist AND an Aquanot for International Rescue, Dr. John Tracy, the Voice that Answers, holds multiple PhD degrees in Astrophysics and Computer Science, my son Virgil is an accomplished pianist, like his mother, and a recognized artist on top of being busy full time with International Rescue engineering.

Smiles were blooming on his boys' faces up to a point it became apparent he stopped his answer at four. Jeff could swear there was a sheen of tears in Alan’s eyes, whereas light brown and turquoise turned momentarily hard. Virgil's whole face was a shimmer of disbelief and betrayal. Scott's eyes, soft and understanding, and infinitely sad, would be enough to stop the interview right there and backtrack. But he needed to see this through just right. The news anchor was beaming, as they were down to the last question:

- That is certainly a LOT to be proud of, Mr. Tracy. I'm sure the whole world, anyone who has ever needed help from International Rescue, would agree. But our viewers want to know one last thing from the Hero of the Century. Do you know you're called that? That's a tough mark to measure up to! Well, who is YOUR Hero, Mr. Tracy?

The anchor probably would have never guessed how simple and ready that answer was in his mind. He didn't need a moment to think:

- My eldest son. Scott Tracy. Everything International Rescue is today, everything our family is today - we owe him. I owe him my life. I know nobody stronger in the face of so much pain and pressure. I could survive in outer space, but I am not sure I could ever do what he did in my absence. I could never admire or respect anyone more. I am a better man for being his father. So it's simple as that, Scott Tracy is my hero.

The holo projector barely flickered out when he was barreled into midriff by a flurry of warm and blond, and fierce. Alan hugged him tight and mumbled "Thank you!", no doubt aimed at his words not only on all other brothers, but on Scott. He meant every one of those. Soon he was in a circle of strong arms and within reach of the most beloved young faces, incandescent with emotions and hope. All but one. Scott lingered behind, as he was disturbingly wont to since their first hug in the Oort Cloud - hence Jeff's little staged performance today, as a desperate measure. He held his eldest son's gaze unwaveringly across the lounge, aware of the tears streaming from still astonished blue eyes. It was an instant loss to step out of his boys' embrace even for a brief moment, but there was something he needed to do. He crossed to the couches in three big strides and held Scott as tightly to himself as the still recuperating muscles would allow. It hurt to know the boy would be this surprised to be acknowledged and appreciated. But Jeff was gifted a second chance to let all his sons know how cherished they were. How precious. He'd waste no minute of that. A tight circle of strong arms was soon  embracing him and Scott again, more confirmations of affection all around washing over. There was nothing he'd rather do for the rest of his life.

[lizzisimss]

Purple Apartment - Follower Request CC List

CC used (list below) 920 Medina Studios in San Myshuno 2 bed, 1 bath $108,109

Aira – https://www.patreon.com/airacc

Pear teapot

Books with a pen

Cloud pouffe

Wooden ballerina music box

Woodenland bear organizer v2

Woodenland bear organizer

Woodland shelf

Beans Builds – https://www.patreon.com/beansbuilds

Artsy paintings

Beach suntan lotion

charly pancakes - https://www.patreon.com/charlypancakes

The Lighthouse Collection merged

Miscellanea Merged

Modish Merged

Selection One Merged

Smol merged

Soak merged

Faded-springs – https://www.patreon.com/fadedsprings

Country living pattern add on pack pt 1

William morris-ish prints

Felixandre – https://www.patreon.com/felixandre

Fayun part 2

Gothic revival interior

house of harlix - https://www.houseofharlix.com

Orjanic pt 2

Bafroom

Baysic Bafroom Merged

Baysic Merged

Livin’Rum Merged

The Kichen

Tiny Twavellers Merged

harrie - https://www.patreon.com/heyharrie

Brownstone Collection part 1 & 2 merged

Brutalist Bathroom

Country Collection part 1 & 2

Joyceisfox – https://www.patreon.com/Joyceisfox

Simple Live

Summer Garden

Kasakokos – https://kasakokos.tumblr.com/tagged/ts4%20download

Floral wallpaper w trim 2

Kiwisim - https://www.patreon.com/Kiwisim4

Piha

KKB – https://www.patreon.com/user?u=15789815

Fragrant space

Citrus Room

JOMO Laundry

My Heimish Hall

Retro Korea

The chilling home

KARLSTAD

Lavilikesims – https://www.thesimsresource.com/members/lavilikesims/member/index/category/sims4/

Rustic Floral Floor

leaf motif - https://leaf-motif.tumblr.com

2202 Magnolia Bathroom

Aubrey Office

Basil Chair

Botanic Boudoir

Calliope Bathroom

Ivy Hallway

Old Hat

Starlight Crystals

Sunbeam Study

Vintage Crockery

Winter Village

Patron gift 1, 2 and 5

Lilis-palace – https://www.patreon.com/lilis_palace

Folklore set off the grid

Littlecakes – https://litttlecakes.tumblr.com/downloadspage

Twinkly lights LC

littledica - https://www.patreon.com/littledica

Rise & Grind Café merged

Sleek slumber stuff pack merged

Lumen-Niveus –

Millennia Merged

Lustrousims – https://www.patreon.com/lustrousims

Backend Shelf

MadameRia – https://www.patreon.com/MadameRia

Basic luxe kitchen main

Bow calendar

National park calendar

Madlen – https://www.patreon.com/madlen

Kei Plushie

max 20 - https://www.patreon.com/Max20

Child dream kit

Master bedroom

Mini pack (home atmosphere)

Mechtasims - https://www.patreon.com/mechtasims

Back to School Calendar

Cyber Girl

Essential Clutter

Mlys – https://mlyssimblr.tumblr.com/cc-catalog

Computer eMook v2.1

MycupofCC - https://www.patreon.com/mycupofcc

August 2021

November 2021

Tiny dreamers merged

myshunosun - https://www.patreon.com/myshunosun

Nora living

The art room

Daria bedroom

Dawn living

Lottie

Bake it up

Flow

Herbalist kitchen

Lullaby nursery

Simmify

Sol kitchen

Vanity nook

NolanSims - https://nolan-sims.com/downloads

Strawberry planters

peacemaker - https://peacemaker-ic.tumblr.com/TS4O...

Creta kitchen

Elsie bedroom

Futura

Hinterlands bedroom

Hudson bathroom

Kingston dining

Kitayama living

Mid century eclectic

Phump sectional

Vara office

Bowed

pierisim - https://www.patreon.com/pierisim

Precious promises

Calderone bedroom

MCM part 1, part 3, part 5 merged

Oakhouse part 1, 2, 3, 4 merged

Auntie vera bathroom merged

Coldbrew coffeeshop

David apartment part 1, part 3 merged

Domaine du clos part 2, part 3, part 4 merged

Teeny weeny merged

Winter garden part 1

RVSN – https://ravasheen.com/downloads/

Smarts Content School Posters

S-imagination – https://www.patreon.com/simagination

Nota living room merged

Simkoos – https://www.patreon.com/simkoos

Clutter dumo pt2

Morning routine glossier collection

simplisticsims - http://simplisticsims4.com

Painting indigo 2021

sixamcc - https://imfromsixam.tumblr.com/

Oak&Concrete Kit merged

Artz

Home Basics

Teen Room

SurelySims – https://www.patreon.com/surelysims

Office Space

Joliebean High Society

SYB – https://www.patreon.com/Syboubou

Cottage

Fabulous

Life

Nathalie

Nothingtowear

TaurusDesign – https://www.patreon.com/taurusdesign

Cassandra Bathroom

Eliza Walk In Closet

Elsa kids room

Jade build merged

Nina living room merged

Clutter Cat - https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/thec...

Babybooparti

Busy bee 2

Busy bee

Dandy Diary part i

Dandy Diary part ii

MellowMini

TUDS -https://www.patreon.com/TudTuds

Beam kitchen completed set merged

Cross merged

Wave merged

Awingedllama – https://www.patreon.com/awingedllama

Paranormal plants all

Blooming rooms plants merged

Tray files are available on my Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/lizzisimss

Please consider supporting if you wish :)