#thread sealant

[clariannt]

Discover the unmatched quality and performance of Clariannt’s P.T.F.E. Teflon Tape, also known as thread seal tape or plumber’s tape. Our high-quality PTFE tape is designed to ensure leak-free plumbing and smooth joint connections, making it an essential tool for both professional plumbers and DIY enthusiasts. Learn how Clariannt’s Teflon tape can simplify your installations and provide lasting reliability.

[xviruserrorx]

I've been weaving little fruit charms all day and the loops to attach them to the bracelets kept looking weird and I couldn't figure out what was going wrong and I just figured out I was missing one square knot 🫠

[beq-noir]

antlers are perfect for holding things to dry

[treasureboxmylove]

I Can't Lose you

Smoke still clung to her like a second skin.

Foxy stumbled through the doorway with Puppet in his arms, her weight limp against his chest. Every footstep echoed too loud, too final in the silent apartment. His optics flickered with warnings—overheating, servo stress, adrenaline surge—but he didn’t care. Couldn’t care. All that mattered was the barely-there hum of her core and the shallow rise and fall of her chest.

He dropped to his knees beside the couch and laid her down with shaking hands, like she might crack apart if he moved too fast. Her head lolled to the side. Her face was a mess—paint chipped, cheeks scorched, one eye flickering from some head trauma he hadn’t even been able to assess yet. There was a blackened hole in the fabric over her ribs, wires exposed like veins split open.

“Gods—Puppet.”

He cupped her cheek with one trembling hand, but she didn’t respond, not at first. He pressed his forehead to hers, static sparking faintly between their contact points. Her body was too cold.

“Stay with me, lass,” he whispered. “Stay with me…”

Her fingers twitched.

It was barely anything, but it sent him reeling. He yanked the medkit off the shelf and dumped it open on the floor, scattering supplies across the hardwood like spilled guts. Alcohol. Gauze. Replacement tubing. Reinforcement mesh. Soldering thread. Where was the sealant—?

She coughed, a horrible, crackling sound like broken circuitry trying to mimic a breath.

And that did it.

“What in the hell were ye thinkin’?!”

He didn’t even realize he was shouting until the walls echoed it back.

He slammed the kit shut, opened it again, then slammed it again as if trying to ground himself. “You knew that corridor was unstable! You knew they had mines rigged through the floor, and you still went in! What—what, did ye think you were invincible? Or that my life meant more than yours?!”

She blinked slowly at him, her lips barely parting. “I didn’t think. I just saw it about to go off.”

“And decided to play the bloody martyr?!” Foxy snarled, kneeling beside her with a bottle of antiseptic in one hand and a pair of tweezers in the other. “Ye jumped between me and a plasma charge, Puppet! That’s not brave, that’s suicidal!”

“I had to,” she rasped.

“No, ye bloody didn’t!”

He wasn’t yelling to hurt her. He was yelling because he didn’t know what else to do—because the words were pouring out like steam from a pressure valve that had just cracked open.

“I saw you get hit,” he hissed, voice breaking. “Saw you thrown like a ragdoll across the room. I thought—gods above, I thought ye were dead.”

He pressed a bandage over her ribs with gentler hands than his voice betrayed. Her systems jerked under the touch, a wince rippling across her face, but she didn’t cry out. She just stared at him.

And that made it worse.

“Ye weren’t moving,” he whispered. “Ye didn’t make a sound. I ran to ye and—and yer arm was twisted up and yer chest was open and I could smell the melting wires—”

His hands started to shake again.

“—and all I could think was, I didn’t get to say goodbye.”

That stopped her breath.

For a moment, the only sound in the room was the soft hiss of the coolant system from the nearby wall, trying to cool down both of their overheating bodies. Foxy leaned back on his heels, eyes burning even if they didn’t hold tears like a human’s would.

Puppet reached out, her fingers brushing the edge of his coat. Her touch was faint, flickering, like her power reserves were still unstable.

“You’d really hate me,” she said, voice ragged, “if I died like that, wouldn’t you.”

“I wouldn’t hate ye,” Foxy said, low and hoarse. “I’d hate myself.”

He grabbed a soldering tool and sealed the most frayed wire on her side, the tiny blue arc lighting the corners of his jaw with the outline of clenched fury. “I’d hate myself for lettin’ it happen. For not being faster. Stronger. For not tacklin’ ye out of the damn way instead of just watchin’ ye take the hit for me like I was worth it.”

“You are worth it.”

His voice cracked.

“I’d burn the whole world to keep ye safe, and ye’re throwin’ yerself into fire for me?”

“I love you,” she said simply.

And that broke him.

He dropped the soldering pen onto the couch cushion and hunched forward, pressing his face into the hollow of her shoulder, his arms finally wrapping around her like he couldn’t hold back anymore. His voice was muffled, frantic.

“Don’t say it like that. Not when ye look like this. Not when yer barely holdin’ together. Don’t tell me ye love me like it’s goodbye, Puppet, I—”

Her hand slid into his hair, slow and deliberate, tangling weakly in the strands.

“It’s not goodbye,” she murmured. “It’s because I love you that I did it. But I’m still here. So don’t let this be the memory that haunts you.”

He clung to her like a man drowning.

“I—I watched yer body hit the wall. I smelled the fire. I thought… I thought I’d never see you again.”

“You did,” she whispered.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he rasped. “You’re not just some partner on the field. You’re… you’re home, Puppet. You’re all I’ve got.”

She winced as her internal fans tried to stabilize. “Then take better care of your home. No yelling. Just… patch me up and hold me for a while.”

“Already was,” he muttered, trying to smile but failing, his eyes red behind his optics. “But ye’ve got one more tear in yer leg. Don’t move.”

“Bossy.”

“Alive.”

He worked in silence for a while longer, sealing, re-threading, re-aligning her torn frame like every piece was sacred. And maybe it was. Every wire he touched was one more thread that kept her here with him. Every patch he applied, every soft curse under his breath, every time he paused to whisper stay with me like a mantra—it was all Foxy fighting for her in the only way he knew how.

And when it was done, and her systems hummed steadier, and her hand had found its way to rest over his heart, he exhaled for what felt like the first time in hours.

“Ye scared the hell out of me, Puppet.”

“I know,” she said softly, curling into him as he pulled her close. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want yer sorry. I want you. All of ye. In one piece.”

She nodded, resting her forehead against his jaw. “I’ll try. Next time… no heroics. We walk out together.”

He brushed a kiss to her hair, slow and lingering.

“Aye,” he murmured. “Together. Always.”

And with her heartbeat finally steady against his, Foxy held her tighter and let the silence carry what words couldn’t.

[geniusboyy]

Covenants and other Provisions

Chapter 51

Twin Bed

     The heat had settled in early that June—thick and without apology. A heat that seemed to seep from the earth itself, pressing close and damp against the skin, working its way beneath collars and cuffs and the fine joints of the spine. Today, the air inside the cabin had taken on a permanent sheen, swollen with salt and labor, the walls fingerprinted with sweat. 

     Ford and Fidds had their T-shirt sleeves rolled and cuffed over their shoulders—Ford had started gathering his curls back with the rubber bands filched from the lab drawers. Fiddleford didn’t bother—his hair hung in limp ropes that stuck to the back of his neck. The rhythm had calcified into something mechanical—lift, ascend, descend, drop, repeat. They were hauling crates up out of the lab and down to the newly reinforced bunker. One at a time, or two, if Ford felt like being stubborn.

     The project was finished. Officially. Forty-seven days of poured concrete and wiring, of sealant fumes and battery backups, of vent testing and emergency lock cycles. A generator hum now threaded faintly beneath the floorboards like a low, persistent thought—quieter than the cicadas, but deeper, more permanent. It never stopped. Neither did Fidds.

     That was new. Or maybe not. Ford couldn’t quite say when it had started, only that he saw it now—clearly, in hindsight, where clarity always lived. A slow shift at first, quiet. Like sediment moving along the riverbed. Barely perceptible until the shape of things had already changed. Fiddleford had grown restless. Withdrawn. Less quick to make eye contact. He’d begun spending longer stretches underground before the structure was complete, citing airflow concerns, structural integrity, systems diagnostics—but Ford could tell. The excuses were sound. But the tone was different. 

     Lately, Ford would come down to check on the progress, finding Fidds crouched beside an open panel, one arm elbow-deep in a tangle of wires. Or else he’d be hunched over the schematics with a red pencil in hand, marking adjustments in the margins no one else would ever read.

     They were nearly through the fifth load of the afternoon. The air between the lab and the stairwell had thickened into something visible—veils of kicked-up dust catching the sun through the back window, suspended like spores. The low whine of exertion had become part of the background noise, indistinguishable from the creak of old boards or the cyclical grunt of bodies folding and unfolding with each lift. And still, somehow, the place looked no emptier.

     The lab was a hoarder’s den of erratic priorities—half the filing cabinets still full, the drawers sticking from the weight of handwritten notebooks and incomplete reports, everything annotated with Ford’s looping script. Tupperware tubs brimmed with unclassifiable compounds or expired cryptid samples sealed in resin. Then there were the vials—too many to count—wrapped lovingly in bubble wrap, rubber-banded into little clutches that Ford refused to part with on the grounds that they might “prove useful later.”

     The bunker, by contrast, was clean and new. The walls still smelled faintly of sealant and heat-cured paint. Down here, they worked in a different rhythm—repositioning, assigning, settling. Everything had to be given a new place, a new logic. It felt like domesticity in miniature: the great migration of their strange little world into something organized and survivable.

        Fiddleford had even decided to move Stache.

     He didn’t ask. Just grumbled something about Ford’s “incessant whining” over the squeaky wheel distracting him during late night experiment sessions—though Fidds was personally convinced Ford couldn’t possibly hear anything over the sound of his own mutterings and half-audible debates with nobody. Still, the solution seemed reasonable enough: a bigger cage, deeper bedding, tucked into a quiet corner of the bunker. 

     Ford, for his part, was dragging an ambitious stack of three labeled crates—filled with books—onto the nearest available bench. The crates landed with a hollow, echoing thud. He paused to wipe his forehead with the back of his wrist, catching his breath—

        —and then a sharp, immediate sound snapped the air.

           A hiss—tight, involuntary, all teeth.

     Ford’s head whipped around like a compass needle finding north just as Fidds was yanking his hand away from the cage. “What happened?”

     Fiddleford stood frozen, one hand clamped around the other, his face pinched in a wince. “Son of a—he bit me.”

     He peeled his fingers away to inspect the damage. Blood welled along the ridge of his thumb, bright as pomegranate juice, a single bead sliding into the shallow curve of his lifeline. “Little bastard’s been weird lately.”

     Ford straightened from his half-crouch, arms full of hardcovers and binders, and watched him for a moment. “Weird how?”

     “Well, to start with, he’s never bitten me before.” Fidds glanced toward the cage, which sat half-shrouded in shadow beneath one of the steel counters. Stache was visible inside, perched in a corner on his haunches, strangely still. His whiskers didn’t twitch. His eyes gleamed. “Maybe he misses the old cage,” Fidds muttered, voice unreadable.

     Ford turned away, sliding the books—methodically, alphabetically, categorically—into one of the built-in shelves he’d already pre-sorted by Dewey decimal classification. “He’ll adjust.”

        That was the end of it, apparently.

     Fidds wiped his hand off on his pant leg, though it didn’t do much to stem the blood. He gave the cage another glance, then turned on his heel and headed back up the stairs for another round of boxes.

       Outside, the afternoon light slanted sideways through the trees, a golden spill filtered through swaying pine—casting long stripes across the dusty earth. The insects were louder now. Every day brought a new crescendo of wings and legs and heat. A living chorus that thickened the air.

     But inside, down under the cabin, the world was narrowed to the clink of metal trays, the shuffling scrape of boxes being dragged into line, and the quiet, rasping pull of his own breath.

     Fiddleford paused mid-haul, shifting his grip on the containment bin. It was full of raw ore—dense, jagged and dangerous.

     He should have been wearing more. A jumpsuit, at least. Gloves, definitely. The handling protocols were posted right there above the bench in Ford’s precise, uncompromising hand. But it was now his sixth load of the day and the heat had turned his clothes into a second skin. His tank top clung to him in patches, and his shorts were soaked along the waistband. The thought of cramming himself into rubber or Tyvek made his skin crawl. He just needed the bin out of the way. A couple feet to the left. Quick and easy.

     But it was heavier than he remembered. Bulkier, too. The metal edge bit into his ribs as he heaved it up, trying to clear space on the bench. He leaned it against the table to get a better angle, swiped a slick hand across the back of his neck. His skin was hot to the touch, overheated and buzzing slightly. He squared his stance, tipped the bin.

              —it happened fast.

           The latch slipped.

        A clean, metallic snap,

     The lid popped free and caught the heel of his thumb on its way off—just a slight blow, but enough to make him flinch. The container pitched forward with a clatter, the weight of it spilling downward as three chunks of ore—raw, irregular, their surfaces veined with mica and that eerie green filament—tumbled out like loose teeth.

     They struck the ground hard. One skidded under the shelving. Another bounced once, twice, and landed at his feet. The third rolled sideways into shadow.

     Fidds stumbled back without thinking, adrenaline snapping through his chest like a tripwire.

        Nothing—

           Nothing?

     Slowly, his gaze dropped to his hand. One of the pieces—he was sure of it—had struck his palm as it fell. Right at the base of his fingers. He flexed it. Once. Twice.

              …Nothing.

     No burning. No stinging. No pins and needles racing up his arm. He turned the hand over, inspecting the joints, the folds of skin between the knuckles. The skin was a little red where the lid had caught him, but… everything felt fine.

     His breath was shallow, tight in his chest. He crouched without meaning to, lowered himself automatically, like his body didn’t trust standing. He reached out with his left hand—hesitant, careful. The closest shard was less than a foot away.

     First, he barely touched it, almost swiped at it. Then he tapped his fingers on the surface, recoiling them quickly. 

        And again, nothing happened.

     More boldly still,  he grabbed it. Let it rest in his palm. He counted to ten. And the waited another ten seconds. 

     Then, almost casually, he tossed it back into the open bin.

        The sound it made was sharp. Final.

             It didn’t make sense.

     Ford had touched this stuff once—just once—and he’d crumpled like someone had yanked the plug from the back of his neck. Fiddleford could still see it, clear as a film reel: Ford on the cave floor, face bleached of color, breath caught in his throat, pupils wide and empty as if the soul had been vacuumed out—for several agonizing minutes, Fidds had thought he was dead. 

        So why not him?

     He looked down at the shard in his hand, then back to the box where the rest had spilled. His skin was dry now, suddenly very cold. A chill crept down his spine, tightening the air around his shoulders.

     The door groaned open behind him, followed by the quick, uneven rhythm of boots on wooden stairs—descending with that stubborn, unrelenting force he applied to most things. Ford appeared a second later, flushed and breathing hard, sweat streaking through the curls at his temple. His eyes snapped to the containment bin before they registered anything else—and the moment he caught sight of the scattered ore, something behind his face changed.

     “Hey—careful!” he barked, voice tight with alarm. His hand shot out as if he could stop time with it. “That’s unprocessed—”

     “I know,” Fiddleford interrupted quickly. The lie came out fully formed, polished like a coin. “The lid slipped. I didn’t touch it.”

     Ford’s gaze narrowed, his eyes flicking between the shards on the floor and Fiddleford’s face. His brow furrowed, but he didn’t press. Just stretched his back with a long exhale, vertebrae clicking audibly, the sound sharp in the tight room. “Obviously you didn’t touch it,” he muttered, sarcasm paper-thin. “You’re still standing.”

     He crossed the room and snapped on a pair of industrial gloves—thick, chemical-safe, reinforced at the palms. Fidds just watched as Ford crouched, carefully handling the stones as if they were live mines, setting them back in the bin and snapping the lid on tight.

       Only then did he glance back over his shoulder. “What’s with the bed down there now?”

            Fidds, mind wondering, blinked. “What?”

     “In the bunker,” Ford clarified, waving vaguely over his shoulder as he stood. “That cot you dragged in. Kinda cozy, don’t you think?”

     Fiddleford turned, grabbed his clipboard from the edge of the bench, and flipped a page he’d already worn soft at the corners. “It’s just practical.”

     Ford tilted his head, one brow lifting with theatrical skepticism. “Practical, huh?” He pulled the gloves off and tossed them aside before leaning on the edge of a nearby bench. “Because from where I’m standing, it kind of looks like you’re planning on moving in.”

        “It’ll only be used in emergency situations.”

     Ford wiped his forehead with the back of his wrist and glanced down at himself, exhaling a tired laugh. “If we end up needing to shelter in place down there, you really think we’re both fitting on that little twin bed?”

        There was the faintest pause—

     Fidds tucked a damp strand of hair behind his ear, eyes still fixed on the clipboard. His thumb smudged graphite as he flipped another page without reading it. “I must’ve overlooked that detail,” he murmured.

     A low hum answered him—not from the generator this time, but from somewhere deeper.

     “Looks like your touch-starved assistant is fishing for excuses,” Bill purred, threading himself like smoke through the ridges of Ford’s mind, voice velveted and smug. “Can’t blame him, though—just look at you.”

     His tone coiled, sharpened. “Wear those little shorts tonight—I wanna take ‘em off with my teeth.”

     Ford exhaled through his nose, jaw flexing. A bead of sweat rolled from temple to collarbone, gliding along the hollow of his throat. He forced his gaze downward, toward the crate of drives.

     “Cut the chitchat, muscles—” Bill whispered. “I wanna watch you sweat some more.”

      Ford exhaled and gave a dry snort, “Don’t go spacey on me now, cowboy,” he said, patting Fiddleford’s shoulder as he passed by him. Then he ducked around him, lifted another stack of boxes, and started back toward the stairwell.

     The sound of his footsteps faded upward, swallowed by the drone of the lab.

     Once Ford had gone, the silence shifted—no longer merely quiet, but thickened somehow, pressurized. Like the stillness after a storm, when all the birds have gone quiet and the air remembers where the thunder used to be. It rang in his ears in a way that felt both familiar and new. Fiddleford stood motionless, clipboard slack in his hand, eyes unfocused.

        Fiddleford didn’t move. Not at first.

     Then, slowly, he brought his hand up and flexed it again—just once. He still felt nothing.

        And that didn’t feel right at all.

     He gave his head the smallest shake. Turned back toward the workbench, intending to reach for the coil of copper wire he’d set aside—and promptly fumbled it.

     It slipped from his grip and hit the floor with a metallic clatter. The spool rolled—almost enthusiastically—off the tiles and away from his reach, bouncing once before vanishing beneath one of the side consoles and skittering into shadow. It disappeared toward the back of the lab, behind the towering racks of equipment where the light never reached and the dust hung thick enough to taste.

        “Oh, brilliant,” he muttered, rising stiffly. “Confound it.”

     He stepped around the nearest terminal, ducking under a low shelf and easing past a trolley stacked with glassware. The air back here was different—still and stale. He squinted in the dimness. The spool had come to rest near the base of an old shelving unit, tucked beside a sagging stack of cardboard boxes. As he reached for it, he noticed.

     The boxes weren’t fresh. Their edges were softened, warped with time. Cobwebs stitched the corners like sutures. Dust lay so thick it curled in uneven ridges, recording the shape of every past tremor. Fiddleford dragged a finger through the topmost layer, exposing the cardboard beneath.

     These hadn’t been stacked recently. More than that—they hadn’t just slumped. They’d been nudged. Disturbed. Pushed out from within.

        He followed the trail, breath slowing.

     There—just beside the shelves, half-disguised by the slump of storage and the clutter of forgotten tools—was a doorframe.

     Not new. Not concealed, exactly. Just… tucked away. Easy to ignore. Easier still to forget.

     A thin metal ruler was wedged between the jamb and the frame, a makeshift deadbolt. Not accidental. Deliberate. As though meant to keep something closed.

        Or keep someone out.

     His skin prickled. The hair along his forearms stood to attention with that unreasoned kind of instinct—something old and deep in the marrow that said: Don’t.

        And yet his hand moved.

     His fingers closed around the edge of the ruler. It stuck for a moment—then gave with a metallic rasp, sliding free like a blade being drawn.

        He stood very still. Listening.

           Then his hand found the doorknob.

               Cold. Heavy. He turned it.

     The door creaked open on stiff hinges, revealing a narrow room—barely six feet square. He reached inside and flipped the wall switch. A single bulb clicked to life overhead—dim, yellowed, swaying faintly in its socket—for a moment, Fidds forgot to breathe.

     Every wall was consumed with matching symbols. A single triangular figure, repeated over and over again in exacting variation—Ink bled down the drywall like open veins, seeping into the plaster. Each line etched with deliberate pressure. But the floor—

        The floor was worse.

     There, burned directly into an old woven rug, was a sprawl of interlocking shapes converging on a complex geometric star. The angles radiated outward like thorns—too sharp to step through, too precise to be casual. The rug had been marked not with ink, but fire—each line scorched, melted through the weave.

     He didn’t know what it meant. Didn’t know what language it belonged to, or what purpose it served. But he knew—unequivocally, with the precision of the line work, the obsessive repetition, the dark insistence of purpose—who had made it.

        And that it wasn’t meant to be seen.

     His hand went to the switch. He flipped it off. Darkness spilled instantly, devouring the symbols and returning the room to silence.

     He pulled the door shut and, with the same deliberate motion, slid the ruler back into the jamb.

     He stood there a moment longer. Listening. Not for sounds—but for the absence of them.

     Then he bent down, retrieved the coil of wire, and without another thought squeezed past the equipment and headed up the stairs.

     Fiddleford stood in the kitchen, the spool of wire still curled in his hand. He set it down slowly on the counter and leaned his palms against the cool laminate edge, his shoulders tight with something he couldn’t name.

        The silence felt unnatural.

     He let his gaze drift toward the window above the sink, fingers flexing faintly on the counter. Outside, beyond the thin pane of glass, the clearing shimmered with heat. The air looked liquid. Pine branches shifted lazily in the breeze, but Ford moved through them with purpose.

        He was alone. Talking to himself again.

           Fiddleford watched.

     Ford was pacing in a loose figure-eight, half-gesturing as he moved—one hand drawing shapes in the air, the other curled at his side. His head tilted now and then, like he was listening, like he was being answered. And every so often he gave a soft laugh—warm, private, deeply amused. The kind of laugh meant for someone else’s benefit.

     He wasn’t monologuing. He wasn’t muttering for clarity or arguing through equations—he was having a conversation.

        Fiddleford had seen this before. Hundreds of times. Ford talking to the empty room. Ford scribbling heated margins into his own notes and circling them days later like someone else had written them. Ford staring into space with a grin like he’d heard the best joke in the world.

     He’d always explained it away—chalked it up to genius, to intensity or lonliness, to Ford being Ford. A mind too fast, too saturated with ideas to stay still. Some strange neurological combustion that required external release to stay balanced.

        But now… now it landed differently.

     There was something about the angle of his smile. The warmth in it. The way his body leaned slightly left, like there was a presence at his shoulder. 

     Fidds felt it low in his stomach. A lurch. Not quite nausea. Not quite fear. Just… something off. Something sickly and creeping and unnamed. Like the sensation of missing a step in the dark and not yet hitting the ground.

        He turned away.

     His room was dark, blinds drawn, the air stagnant. He didn’t bother with the light. Just dropped to one knee beside the bed and reached beneath it.

     A military-grade lockbox—nondescript, scratched, dented along the seam where it had been pried open years ago and never quite resealed. He slid it out, popped the latches with two quick snaps.

     Inside—his cache of Playboys. He pushed them aside without ceremony. Beneath them, nestled between foam padding and a folded flannel handkerchief, was the memory gun.

     It gleamed dully in the low light. The dial still set from last time. He didn’t hesitate. Didn’t deliberate. His fingers knew the contours, the safety, the switch. He adjusted the dial lower—just a notch.

     Just enough to smooth the edge. He raised it to his temple. The barrel met his skin, cool and unblinking. He drew in a single breath.

         Click.

           The effect was immediate.

     His body stiffened—not violently, just a soft arc, like a current passing through. A quiet sound escaped his chest—caught between a breath and a release. The tension behind his eyes unspooled. His scalp prickled, then eased. His heart slowed from a shallow flutter to a calm, even beat. Not numb, but loose. Cleared. Like a glass wiped clean of fingerprints.

     He let the gun rest a moment longer against his skin, then pulled it away.

        The world had quieted.

     That feeling in his stomach—gone. The memory still there, technically. But dulled. The context had eroded just enough to let him breathe again.

     He slid the gun back into the case, re-covered it with the magazines, and shut the lid with a firm snap. Then he pushed it back under the bed—deeper this time.

     He stood, ran a hand through his hair to smooth it, and left the room without looking back.

     The hall stretched ahead, bright with filtered sunlight, filled with the scent of sawdust and sweat. Fiddleford rolled his shoulders once, loosened his jaw, and went back to work.

[Previous Chapter][Next Chapter]

[Read Entire Work Here]

[Playlist!]

[overland-defender]

04/07/2024: Flap Differential

Annoyingly one day Amy came home… and I’d noticed the rear near side mud flap was missing, wtf!? This was a long time ago and it was in fact it a new mud flap that appeared to be stolen! Now I’m not one to throw accusations around but it seemed odd to me and they (bolts) were loctited in.

So cut a long boring story short, I had a spare used flap in the box of spares, ordered stainless steel brackets and fasteners. The brackets went for powder coating and eventually (today) I fitted it all.

Top tip: Scour pad and some washing up liquid with warm water is the recipe for getting the weathered mud flap back into something presentable, plus with the addition of a plastic enhancer - not bad aye!?, just a shame it makes the rear cross member look like turd.

Now onto the D110, a leak on a truck is like it shedding a tear of disrepair… I mean if I was leaking fluid I’d likely be pretty upset as well. So, we focus our or my attention to the rear differential input seal, which has had a moist casing for a while.

How to….

1. Mark the propshaft position on the drive flange for correct refitting.

2. Remove the propshaft bolts using a spanner/socket, then secure the propshaft out of the way.

3. Use a socket and breaker bar to remove the pinion nut.

4. Slide off the drive flange – a light tap with a rubber mallet may help.

5. Remove the Old Differential Seal, by carefully prying out the old seal using a seal puller or flathead screwdriver.

6. Clean the seal mating surface to remove any debris or old sealant, inspect and grease bearing if necessary.

7. Install the New OEM Differential Seal, by lightly coating the outer edge of the new seal with gear oil for ease of installation.

8. Carefully press or tap it into place using a rubber mallet or a seal driver, ensuring it sits flush and even.

9. Reinstall the drive flange onto the pinion shaft.

10. Apply thread-locking compound to the pinion nut threads and tighten it securely (refer to manufacturer torque specs).

11. Reattach the propshaft, aligning it with the marks made earlier.

12. Check the seal area for any gaps or damage.

13. Refill the differential with fresh oil if it was drained.

14. Test drive and inspect for leaks.

Final Notes:

- Using a genuine OEM seal ensures longevity and a proper fit.

- If you don’t have the correct torque values, tighten the pinion nut securely but avoid overtightening.

- Regularly inspect for leaks after installation.

Parts for Rear Mudgaurds

RH Mudflap Bracket 90: MUC3986

LH Mudflap Bracket 90: MUC3987

Mudflap Support Plate 90 (both sides): MUC1512

Parts for rear differential input seal

Flange Kit: NSTSTC3124G

Rear Propshaft Bolt Kit: DA1424

[f1sh-mage]

everyone, meet CHIPS!

chips is a handmade alien clown puppet, my first ever puppet i made entirely on my own! he has a huge mouth plate with a collapsing eye in the center, two controllable arms, and he's just a silly little guy!

more info as to how i made it below if any fellow puppet makers are curious :~)

some specs:

the puppet's shell is entirely 1/2" reticulated foam, pattern drafted by me. the mouthplate is 1/8" plywood covered in 2mm eva foam. all the teeth, tongue, and texture-y detail in the mouth is foam clay! the eye in the mouth's center is a series of five wire arches hinged together with thread, covered in painted muslin! so it folds flat like an accordion when you close the mouth.

the mouth was primed with a mix of black and white plastidip to give it a speckled look, then painted with multiple thin layers of fabric paint. i sealed it all with angelus high gloss leather sealant (because it's what i had).

the puppet's arms contain shoelaces that feed through holes in the body and shirt and tie internally so that they are removable. each "hand" has a leather pocket hidden in the foam seam for the arm rod to be inserted. the arm rod, not pictured, is made of wood dowel and a wire coat hanger bent straight.

as for covering, i used joann's anti pill fleece in solid white and black. to get the stars, i used artesprix black sublimation paint (which is notably NAVY and not black...) on some sublimation paper to paint stars first. then, i cut them out and individually sublimated every single star onto the fleece with a heat press. this took a long time, but it came out super clean!

the fake button eyes and his crown are made of worbla, painted and sealed with a glossy acrylic medium.

[deathdetermineslife]

hehe... can you do a list of things to do if your f/o is a puppet/puppet-like? specifically a bjd/marionette.

- @puppeteeredheart

yea absolutely!!!!!!!!! :D

if you have any imagined home/place you live in with your f/o, make sure the area they are in stays cool and dry (and preferably away from the sun)! those things can hurt bjds!

keep neutral soaps and detergents on hand to clean the joints of your f/o! like unscented hand soap :)

look into the different kinds of materials your f/o may be made out of! most bjds are made with resin, but puppets can be made out of wood!

if your f/o has strings attached to them, look into the different types of string or thread you could help replace theirs with! what kind is their favorite?

if your f/o is made out of wood, find some wood sealants you think they may like!

watch puppy shows! it sounds silly, but, it could give you a good idea of how your f/o would move!

make your own doll of them! if you don't have the capabilities, you can always make paper dolls!

what kind of puppet do you think they made be based on? different regions have different kinds of puppet designs!

make a list of any sort of imperfections your f/o may have (assuming they were hand crafted). do they perhaps have some rough patches that could be sanded? are they sealed? do they have any bumps or ridges in the clay or plastic that was used to make them?

how articulated are they? fully articulated? partially? not at all? draw or write about what you think they would look like if they were any of the above!

if your f/o ball and socket joints are held together with elastic, is there a color they prefer? a texture? do they have mismatched elastics? if you asked and they needed an elastic replaced, would they let you draw a funky design on them? doodle up some funky designs!

do they have a favorite type of puppet? if they didn't even know other kinds of puppets existed, you should totally write or draw something showing their reaction to finding that information out!

study the history of puppetry or doll making! how do you think your f/o would react to that? would your f/o want to make a doll or puppet of their own?

I hope u like this Spamton Guy™ this one was fun I did some digging into puppetry for this

[l3x01d]

these pics are from after i already did this a couple times so yours is gonna look a bit different. Ok so first undo these^^^^ four screws. take out the little half circle with teeth. it holds in a lot of the fur thats attached to an elastic band. theoretically you could use it to hold it back inplace after putting it back together but ive never actually gotten it to go in with the fur. you dont need to undo this one:

i recommend keeping it inplace tbh. then youre gonna get to the six clips. theyre extremely hard to get out. i ended up cutting all of them along the bottom. it sucks. ive seen people say you can push them out with a screwdriver but i never got that to work. hopefully you can do it better. this is my first custom. ive also heard people say you can cut a thread or two and then theyre easier to get out but i didnt want to cut any threads so i cut the clips instead.

then pull the fur up as high as itll go and undo all six housing screws. the top two are really far up almost ontop of their head. then undo the two clips on the side:

then you can just lift the back housing cover completely off. this next picture already has one ear removed. ignore that sorry. unscrew the two screws with washers on the pink plastic. these are holding the ears inplace.

using a flathead screwdriver you should be able to leverage out one side of the ear posts. after that you can just pull them out fairly easily. do this on both sides.

^^^then you should be able to flip the front housing cover up just enough to push out the clips holding the front fur on. then remove the front housing and faceplate. this picture already has the faceplate removed. its held in by three screws. i took it off to paint it.then you want to unplug the ears from their little square connector dudes and remove them from the fur. try not to pull too hard on the wires. theres a small hole they go through the fur thats lined with plastic. its kinda tricky but doable. dont be afraid of this part just be careful of the wires.

if you want to paint the eyes youre gonna have to scrape or sand off the current design and the white parts. its too slick to paint directly. it helps to prop them up with something while painting because theyre on a spring for when they open/close. i used the cover for my scrapey tool. dont forget to sand the lids if you want to paint them too! most of all be careful not to get any of the dust in the internals.

this is the fun part now you can paint whatever you like!! clear spray paint makes a good sealant ive found.

Edit to add: for stuff like the faceplate that doesn’t move or get touched much spray paint is ok but for stuff that gets a lot of wear or moves (heart gems, ears) polyurethane is much better! Be sure to sand well before applying as this will be thicker than spray paint. I did 2-3 layers and it stopped the paint from coming off Feral’s heart gem.

You should be able to find polyurethane in any hardware store. It’s what goes on hardwood floors to protect them and is great for finishing clay charms too. Crystal clear is best but I used a satin finish just fine. BE SURE TO USE PPE WHENEVER FINISHING PROJECTS.

the rest of this post is gonna be things to be mindful of when putting them back together that i wish i had thought of before i learned it the hard way. if you have to really force anything its probably not right.

GO SLOW this long part in the back is gonna get in the way!! took me forever to figure it out. lay it flat in your hand as you put the housing on and make sure it lines up right.

before trying to get the back housing back on make sure the silver top button is lined up correctly! it should fit in the two groves on the very top of their head. when screwing the housing toegther BE CAREFUL OF THE EAR WIRES. BE CAREFUL OF THE EAR WIRES!! i caught mine and accidentily shredded most of them the first time i put them back togeher and ended up having to resolder a bunch of it together and it was doable but a pain so just be careful when you put the holes into their notches that theres no wires in the way. the wires are right next to the pegs/holes that get screwed together. the four wires in the back are for the ears:

i think everything else has already been documented better than i could do. i also carved a bit off of the ear poles to help but i did too much on one end and now that side doesnt move so thats probably not the best idea! i also highly recommend reading furbinthewoods' post on doing this i wish i had been able to find it when i was doing mine. ive reblogged it and put it under the "furby teardown" tag.

heres Feral my first custom ever and first furby since the 90s (I Love Them):

have fun and dont be afraid to fail!!

Edit:

Feral has a tail and lots of accessories now!! It won’t let me add pictures but I hope to have pics and guides up soon for some of them!

[kaywavy]

transforming soffits reorganizing keys formalizing immersion joints justifying kick extractors advising aggregates managing elbows recasting connectors achieving aluminum trowels officiating disks exhibiting absolute spigots progressing coil hydrants jerry-building reflectors informing casters inventing rubber hoists performing wrenches judging chalk adapters upgrading ignition paths

regrowing flashing recommending ratchets approving barriers sweeping impact fillers sewing mirrors detailing collectors enforcing measures distributing systems presenting plugs interwinding registers piloting ash diffusers gathering cranks supplying eave pockets undertaking scroll stops accelerating straps designing fittings protecting diamond boilers logging downspouts correlating shingles uniting mallets qualifying electrostatic lifts sharing clamps obtaining circular fluids ranking foundation gauges sensing miter brackets originating space networks translating drills regulating guards selecting gable padding utilizing pellet dowels reconciling artifacts altering pulleys shedding space filters determining vents representing mortar remaking flash rakers supporting funnels typecasting rotary chocks expressing junctures resetting auxiliary vises professing strip treads inlaying matter trowels questioning drivers forming edge fittings sketching blanks overshooting spark breakers rewriting controls playing tunnels inventorying buttons enduring joint handles effecting ratchet bibbs unwinding couplings forsaking vapor conduits defining sockets calculating heaters raising grids administering tiles measuring resources installing ignition remotes extracting corners manufacturing ventilators delegating consoles treating mounting stones enacting jig deflectors intensifying alleys improvising cargo pinpointing bobs prescribing arc masonry structuring metal chucks symbolizing lathes activating plumb kits adapting coatings fixing channels expediting cordage planning compressors enlisting hangers restructuring keyhole augers shearing ridge hardware collecting reciprocating bolts maintaining corrugated dimmers whetting hole collars conducting mandrels comparing assets compiling sealants completing paths composing equivocation wheels computing dampers conceiving electrostatic treatment ordering cotter grates organizing ties orienting ladders exceeding materials targeting thermocouples demonstrating emery stock expanding latch bases training wardrobe adhesives overcomming[sic] fasteners streamlining storm anchors navigating springs perfecting turnbuckles verifying gate pegs arbitrating arithmetic lifts negotiating outlets normalizing strips building surface foggers checking key torches knitting grinders mowing planers offsetting stencils acquiring bulbs adopting rivets observing avenues ascertaining coaxial grommets slinging wing winches instituting circuit generators instructing wicks integrating pry shutters interpreting immersion lumber clarifying coils classifying wood bits closing cogs cataloging matter strips charting holders conceptualizing push terminals stimulating supports overthrowing shaft spacers quick-freezing connectors unbinding ground hooks analyzing eyes anticipating gateways controlling proposition rollers converting power angles coordinating staples correcting benders counseling joist gaskets recording gutter pipes recruiting drains rehabilitating rafter tubes reinforcing washers reporting guard valves naming freize sprues nominating rings noting straps doubling nailers drafting circuit hoses dramatizing flanges splitting framing compounds refitting stems interweaving patch unions placing sillcocks sorting slot threads securing mode cutters diverting catharsis plates procuring load thresholds transferring syllogism twine directing switch nuts referring time spools diagnosing knobs discovering locks dispensing hinges displaying hasps resending arc binders retreading grooves retrofitting aesthetics portals seeking stocks shrinking wormholes assembling blocks assessing divers attaining lug boxes auditing nescience passages conserving strikes constructing braces contracting saw catches serving installation irons recognizing fluxes consolidating fuse calipers mapping shims reviewing chop groovers scheduling lag drives simplifying hoists engineering levels enhancing tack hollows establishing finishing blocks

[aviatrix-ash]

Some airplanes are so old they still use silk thread for gaskets for various applications. A method probably at least over a century old, still used today. If it ain't broke, a small spool of this stuff will probably last the next 4 or more decades of plane fixin. Just had to use a modern forbidden grape jelly sealant to help keep the juice inside the plane.

[pippitworld]

ive been doin more Crafting™️ heres a couple recent things!

The charm has a little 1 in shaker star on it, that for reasons i cannot comprehend, now has a fine layer of dust over everything inside? its just clear plastic with beads in (no liquid!!) joined w superglue and sealed w an acrylic sealant that hasnt had this problem on ANYTHINGGG. my guess is the glue since it came out of the junk drawer.

the quilt! is a 3-yarder following a diamond in a square pattern, i got all the fabric and thread 2nd hand, the batting is recycled cotton from a local shop. its the first quilt ive ever made, and the goal is Finished not Good, so its uh. messy! but cute!! in the photo id Just finished thread basting the 3 layers together, next up is Actual Quilting. wish my entry model brother machine luck 🍀

ive been doing much less Finished 2d art lately, but im having so much fun crafting! ive gotta figure out how to Share that better.

[thoroughlysaucedsparrow]

AAAAAAAAA ITS DONEEE

I measured it and this thing is fucking 6’6-

(materials and process underneath vv)

Materials used:

-3 pvc pipe segments with the screw adapters

-Eva foam : 2mm, 5mm, 10mm

-Foam clay

-Thermoplastic beads

-Metal wire

-Various superglues

-Spray paint

-Acrylic paint

~~ The Pvc Segments:

I started off with three 2ft pvc segments and glued the cross adaptor on the top, then proceeded to hack off and move around pieces as I saw fit. For the top segment I believe I cut off 5in, then glued 3 to the top of the cross pipe and tossed the remaining 2in. I also cut off 8in on the bottom to make way for the spike which is around 5.5in.

(The original pipes, I didn’t really have any other progress pics of this part)

~~ The Main Blade:

I started by going into FireAlpaca and separating the halberd from Sinclair’s sprite, then broke it up into various pieces and used Rasterbator to size up the blade. After that I printed it out, assembled it, and transferred it to freezer paper to adjust it as I saw fit.

After that I cut out two pieces of 10mm foam and glued them together as the main blade, then added the details with some 2mm foam I got from Walmart I think? I proceeded to hack away chunks of foam with Eva foam with a box cutter (and almost sliced my hand open in the process) before sanding the absolute crap out of it)

Once it was all sanded and I was content with it I took my heat gun and sealed all the foam and got rid of the fluffy texture created by the sanding and filled some of the gaps with foam clay.

After the blade I was done I stuck some wire into it, then shoved that wire through some thermoplastic beads I had melted and put in the pipe, and superglued it. It really wasn’t wanting to stay so I added more thermoplastic around the outside and proceeded to add more superglue (Gorilla and Flex Seal glue if I recall correctly) which has seemed to help it stay on. It’s not 100% stable but as long as I’m careful with it I’m ok.

~~

The Spikes:

Just like the blade, I made the pattern based the sprite itself. Using the line tool in FireAlpaca I traced over the top spike and the side spike and got the pattern from that. I resized and reshaped them in a Google doc before printing them out. After that I traced two of the spike pieces, cut one in half vertically and glued them together. After that I used small triangular pieces of foam to connect the corners and with that the skeleton was done (I added wire into the bottom spike for support as it is going to be bashing the floor a lot). i then filled the skeletons with foam clay, making sure to get all the sides even and filled completely.

(I forgot to add the triangle pieces in the bottom spike until later)

Once I sanded them and attacked them with the same method as the blade the base was done!

~~ Painting:

In order to create a stable base to paint on I shoved three wooden dowels into a fertilizer box and hot glued them down. I then broke the halberd down and put each piece on the spike before spraying it with multiple coats of plastidip.

(Note- I taped off the parts that would be screwed down as I was afraid that the paint would interfere with the threading. I don’t know if it would actually cause any problems but I didn’t feel like risking it)

Once that was completely dry I sprayed it with three coats of Rustolem Black High Gloss paint.

Finally, I dry brushed everything with silver paint and added the lettering, using some black paint to mimic the paint chipping.

Once I added two coats of Rustolem clear sealant it was done!! The overall process took about two weeks and I’m quite happy with how it turned out! I may or may not have injured myself a lot during the process because I’m stupid but it was quite a fun project, and I do have more Project Moon props planned for the future such as Don’s lance and Argalia’s scythe. Once I finish my full cosplay I’ll make a post similar to this one :)

[hawkherps]

Sigma's new enclosure is finished!

well, mostly. I want to get another branch or tube or plant or something in that top right corner to fill in the empty space, assuming the monster dracaena doesn't realize it now has an extra foot of vertical space and decide to conquer it. i'll give it a month or two and see how the dracaena adapts before putting something above it. I also want to see how the new pothos grows in, and how the old philodendron adapts. i actually removed two vines from the philo and cut the remaining two down to size a bit since they took over whatever space the dracaena didn't in the old enclosure, so i'm confident the philodendron will help fill in some of the currently empty space even if the dracaena and pothos decide not to.

for the enclosure itself, it's a Leap Habitats 22"x17"x36" enclosure and hoo boy it has its pros and cons... mostly cons. i haven't seen many reviews for these enclosures that aren't from popular youtubers or reddit threads from over a year ago, so here's my opinions below:

i've moved several times so i greatly appreciate how light the enclosure is even fully planted, and being able to screw branches and tubes and other things into the walls instead of having to use spray foam (and then either silicone or the grout method) to mount them is really nice. both are pluses over the glass exoterra 18"x18"x24" Sig has called home since he was given to me. i loved that enclosure but after moving three times with it (once before i made it bioactive) i was not a fan of the weight.

this doesn't apply to me right now, but i do see it as a plus that they included the little spots in the corners of the top that you can pop out to easily install mister nozzles through. i don't know if these holes fit non-Leap misting systems without modification, but it's certainly simpler than some of the setups i've seen for getting misters installed in traditional enclosures like exoterras.

Sigma is... not a great hunter. his method of hunting black soldier flies, for example, is to slam his face as hard as possible into them. this is another big reason i wanted him out of the glass enclosure-- i'm genuinely worried about him injuring himself with the force at which i've watched him bounce his face off the walls and door of the exoterra enclosure. so the softer, less rigid walls and acrylic door are a plus for that alone.

now for the downsides...

i'm really not a huge fan of how flimsy the acrylic door is. if it was a liiiittle thicker i'd probably like it more. the very simple method for the door hinge also means that when open, the door is misaligned, so i have to remember to slightly lift it when i go to close it so it will fit back in its space and close properly. this could be related to the low quality control that i've heard other people report regarding Leap (and experienced myself further below)

the base also leaks. they do sell external water catch trays in case of leakage, but i feel like they should come with the trays instead of the tray being optional, since the design of these things is basically guaranteed to leak without modification.

i didn't encounter this myself because i'd already seen warnings about this and didn't bother trying, but silicone and expanding foam won't adhere to the sides without help. Leap recommends using wall anchors for the foam to hold onto, but there's no real solution for silicone. this is annoying, because being able to seal the damned thing with silicone would GREATLY help the above leaking problem because you could just silicone around the rivets and internal plastic liner so that the leaking wouldn't be an issue. sealants that do bond to polypropylene don't strike me as being safe for use inside a reptile enclosure, especially a bioactive one.

it was also a BITCH to put together. i sort of expected this because a couple reviews i read before buying stated that the quality control is not the best. Leap has several videos on their youtube showcasing how to assemble the enclosures straight out of the box, and the provided instructions in the box are simple enough to follow, but i had to make some minor modifications in order to get the enclosure together due to ill-fitting pieces (for example, the screen top, which also keeps the walls in shape, did not actually fit on top of the walls like it was supposed to and i had to pry some sections open wide enough to actually get the damned thing in place). the alignment pin that goes in the front right of the base also did not want to be flush with the base like it's supposed to be.

all that being said, right now i would still be willing to get another, smaller Leap enclosure in the future for my mourning geckos or another gecko species. whether i actually do get another of their enclosures will really depend on how this one for Sig holds up. the lightness and ease of customization were the entire reasons i ordered this enclosure instead of a similarly sized (24x"18"x36") glass one, so we'll eventually see if that's truly worth the troubleshooting and outright downsides to these enclosures or not.

[niconiconwo]

Protip: if you have some issue with your car, and they tell you there is oil in your coils and somehow that means you need a new engine do one thing first. Go to The Parts Store, buy some oil & fuel UV dye and a UV flashlight and put it in your motor oil. Then run your vehicle for a while to get it to circulate.

Now here is the important part. Look for the dye. Check your sparks and coils, check where the dye seems to originate from. If it's from the upper "seam", then have them change the cover gasket. If it's a "seam" just below the cylinders, that's the dreaded head gasket and you either need head work or a head sealant if it isn't severe.

If it's working upwards from the cylinder through the threads of the sparks, your spark plug threads are worn and leaky and probably cross threaded/damaged too. This can be fixed with a cheeky helicoil if it's bad enough or possibly just a thread chaser will do the job. Use electrical grease on the white part of the spark and it should keep oil out of the coils. But it does possibly mean head work to avoid putting shrapnel straight into your engine.

Once you've found the actual culprit, and fixed the physical issues, do a flush in every fluid for good measure and to decarbon the insides from any oil contamination. Also check your O2s for excessive contamination.

EDIT: I need to add a disclaimer to the above, do NOT flush your own transmission if you aren't a good mechanic. Leave that to a shop that has insurance for you to sue if it destroys your transmission because their mechanics are fucking retards. Don't be the retard in the equation, being the retard is very expensive.

[cresneta]

On the off chance anyone is looking for ideas on how to spruce up the Yor cosplay they bought online I thought I'd post about some the modifications to the ones I wore to a con not too long ago. Mind you, this isn't about to turn into a cosplay account and I'm not planning on posting a full picture of me in either costume.

For the battle dress, as many of fondly refer to it as, I personally didn't care for the charm that it came with and ended up replacing it with a pendent that I found on Etsy. For this, you just need the pendent, a pair of scissors, and a needle and thread. You may also be able to find something at your local craft store that is closer to what she actually wears or possibly 3D orint something if rusts your thing.

This cosplay came with black stockings that are meant to be worn with shoes of a similar material. I used several coats of red acrylic paint on the bottom of the shoes that I wore for this and sealed it witg several coats of Modge Podge to help it last longer. If you do this, I recommend taking a bit more care witg tge masking tape that I did. For this part you just need red acrylic paint, a brush, masking tape, something to protect the surface you're working on, and some Modge Podge or other sealant. I propped the shoes up like that by putting drinking glasses inside them.

It's a small enough detail that I bet most people saw me missed, but I personally enjoyed having it. Here's what the soles of the shoes look like before and after walking around all day at a con:

The only thing I modified on the red outfit was the headband as I didn't care for the buttons that it came with and the ribbon that was used to tie it in place wasn't as close to being screen accurate as I'd like. While this still isn't perfect, I am happier with it than how it was originally. That being said, it is easier to put on with the ribbon than the elastic cord so that particular modification may not be worth it. If you're looking online for this sort of button, it's called a shank button.

As you can probably guess from the photos, for these modifications you just need a needle, thread, scissors, and an elastic cord that can be found in the jewelry section of your local craft store.

Just thought I'd make this post in case it helps anyone. It's really not hard to buy a Yor cosplay online, at least if you're in the US, and they're actually not that expensive. I wouldn't call them cheap either - they do cost more and are better quality than the sorts of costumes you can buy at th supermarket in the US during spooky season, but it's not as much more as you might expect.

Also, if you opt to get red contacts be sure to be careful about where you get them from and do talk to an eye doctor first. I've seen some horror stories out there about people seriously damaging their eyes by using bad contacts. I used Gothika lens which are FDA approved and have just a slightly different base curve than I'm used to.

(Also, I recommend picking up fashion tape to help things like the black stockings stay in place as well as the bandau for the red outfit if you've had similarly bad luck with finding one that fits)