#But *because* of that reason—Lefty not going into the building...

[incorrect-fnaf-quotes]

Puppet doesn’t go to the Pizza Sim location—with Robo-Charlie accompanying her, the two of them are only ever wandering. She still gets captured in Lefty, though.

Michael’s going outside, and he’s just bringing Molten Freddy inside or something, when he, very briefly, just sees Lefty and Robo-Charlie from a distance.

And he goes and tells Henry, who just stands there in silence for a few seconds, before being like, “Well, I guess that’s where that one went-“

[bullet-prooflove]

All The Federales Say... : Alden Parker x Reader

Tagging: @crazy4chickennuggets@kmc1989@sarakafarrah @ @mandy426

Companion piece to The Secret

Trigger warning for loss of a child

Alden can’t stand country music. Whenever it comes on the radio it feels like someone is driving an ice pick right into his brain. He becomes reserved, short tempered, abrasive. You’ve never been able to decipher the reasoning behind it not until the night he tells you about Bonnie.

“We were coming back from swimming club when it happened.” He finds himself saying as the two of you sit on the chocolate brown Chesterfield in the greenhouse. Your fingertips stroke along the underside of his forearm, tracing over the Eagles lyrics tattooed there. “Bonnie was asleep in the back seat. She always used to drop off after those sessions...”

He smiles at the memory. Bonnie’s unruly dark curls falling across her dainty features, her cheek pressed into the side of the car seat. She’d been wearing a black and white striped dress that day, a silver barrette clipped into her hair.  He still carries the damn thing around in his wallet, despite the fact it’s rusted. It’s the only thing he has left of his daughter because Viv had purged the nursery in the aftermath, she couldn’t stand the sight of anything that reminded her of Bonnie.

“When you have kids, you have all these dreams for them.” He tells you, his voice getting a little rough as he watches your fingers trail over the ink. “I thought she was going to grow up, go to the Olympics, bring home a gold medal...It seems so stupid now.” 

He trails off then, swallowing hard against the build-up of emotion in his chest. It’s getting hard to breathe because he’s back there in that place fiddling with the dial on the radio as Viv focuses on the road ahead, her hands gripping the steering wheel.

“Things get hazy after that.” He sighs as his hand captures yours. He holds on tight squeezing your fingers because the road he’s about to go down, it’s not one he wants to walk alone. “They tell me I hit my head in the crash. I remember fragments. Viv was driving, there was a Willie Nelson song on the radio, it was Pancho and Lefty. We were singing that hook, you know the one? ‘All the Federales say…’”

He's there now, right back in that car with the taste of metal in his mouth and smoke filling his lungs. Viv’s slumped over the air bag, blood trickling out of her nose and he’s trying to wake her but Viv, her eyes, they just won’t open.

All the Federales say…

That song, that damn song is still playing and he realises that underneath the lyrics he can’t hear Bonnie, she should be awake now, she should be screaming but there’s just this silence, this horrible, empty nothingness and Alden knows, he just knows.

He forces himself to look anyway and what he sees...

Christ it still haunts his dreams.

“Car seats back then...” He hears himself telling you. “They weren’t as robust as they are these days. My daughter…”

He chokes because all of that anguish, all of that guilt, it’s like he’s feeling it for the very first time. He breaks then, his entire being shattering into a million pieces. The noise that comes out of his mouth, it’s raw, animalistic, a violent sob that wracks his entire body. He hasn’t grieved for Bonnie, not really. There was never any space for it. He was the strong one in the aftermath, holding Viv together and then that had fallen apart. By that point he’d shoved it all in a box because he didn’t want to face it, he’d convinced himself he’d moved on but in reality, it’s always been there, sitting just under the surface waiting.

Your lips chase over the tears that leak down his cheeks, your body pressing against his and Alden feels that rush of heat, that urge to feel anything but the agony that eats him up inside right now.

“Lisa?” He questions, his breath a little ragged and you know exactly what he’s asking you. “I need…”

You know exactly what he needs, you always do. You climb into his lap and his hand threads  through your hair, gripping it tightly in his fist. He pulls your head back, baring your throat and you make that noise, that sweet whimper as his lips ghost up the curve of your neck.

“It’s going to be rough.” He warns you, tugging a little harder, keeping you in place, flush against him. “I don’t have it in me to be soft with you tonight.”

“You don’t have to be.” You whisper as he thrusts up against you. “I mean it Alden, I won’t break.”

Love Alden? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[littlelesbinonny]

The Devil's Den

Chapter 42: In Which The Daylight Is Dawning Pt. 3

You can read this also on Ao3 at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46831621/chapters/117962293

::!TW!:: Depiction of self harm, but not in an unaliving way.

The concrete was still wet but it was setting quickly.

Without thinking twice you rushed past everyone in your way and dug your fingers into the mixture, prying and pulling and digging with all your might, but it was so thick and cold it was freezing your fingers. The bite of that icy cold was rendering your efforts to stall.

A large hand grabbed your forearm gently and pulled you back.

"It's ok, just relax," Karl assured you, a crooked smile meeting your visage full of panic, "I brought my favorite toys!" He exclaimed, dropping the huge bag off his shoulder, "explosives! Never know when you need 'em, right hot shot?"

Somehow his lack of, or refusal to show worry and concern helped calm your nerves for the most bizarre unknown reason. He seemed so sure of himself and it was comforting. At least someone was.

You were about to respond to Karl but Angie came flying down the stairs like a bat out of hell, which shocked you because you don't remember her disappearing at all.

"We gotta blow the fuckin' door NOW!!" She yelled, nearly slamming into Donna to stop herself, "I just came from the control room - " she paused and flashed her hands covered in blood, "mutants - the sun is already entering the silo! They have 10 minutes tops!"

Everything around you became unintelligible as they all began to speak at once. You sank into yourself as something else grabbed control of the wheel. A sudden flood of warmth ensnared you and your eyes shot up.

"The setup takes time and care! These bombs aren't ready-made - this isn't fuckin' McDonalds!!" Karl shouted, "If I blow this willy nilly the whole motherfuckin' tower might collapse!

"Are the tops of the silos accessible above ground?" you inserted quickly, "I can try to block out the sun from up there, buy us all some time."

There was really only a split second everyone was silently looking at you, then Karl sprung a giant grin on his face.

"She's a fuckin' genius, I know why Alcina likes her - c'mon fairy wings, let's go!"

Karl shoved everything he was holding in Dmitri's arms and patted him roughly on the shoulder, "you 'member the schematics, right? Lefty-loosey, righty-tighty, all that jazz, just don't push the splodey button until the amp light goes blue!"

You had no idea what the fuck he was talking about but you sure hoped Dmitri did, because Karl offered no more explanation or clarification and was grabbing your arm and hauling you through more of the underworld maze before you could blink.

Everything was in utter disarray as the two of you scrambled through the tunnels and corridors and passageways galore. There was plenty of carnage along the way too; dead bodies (mainly mutants to your relief) were splayed about here and there, the evident battle a chilling reminder that you were a very mortal being in a very deadly environment. Still, your mind was occupied with Alcina more than anything. The haste to squeeze every last drop out of every second to make them count giving you unwavering focus now.

Would there be anything to actually cover the silo opening? 

Would you be too late?

The thoughts had to come to a screeching halt as a very rickety metal ladder now faced you and Karl to the top of the particular part of this run down old building.

"Up ya go, sugar. That door to the left of the platform takes us right to the roof of the building."

You didn't need to be told twice.

Without further delay you took to the ladder and climbed, not bothering to wait for Karl, though he was right behind you. You ran down the even wobblier metal mesh platform and shoved your way through the almost rusted shut door, falling out into the bright sunlight. It was blinding and you covered your eyes as you eagerly searched for the silo top, finding it not too far off to the right of where you'd entered.

Karl was already on his way there and you followed, finding there to be a thick metal grate welded to the top of the wide silo opening. While this would make it easier to place things on to seal out the sun from below, you needed to find something to put there.

Your eyes couldn't help to gaze down the long dark tunnel below. You so wanted to be able to take time to see if you could see Alcina but this was the last time and place to doddle. 

Karl was already running about on the roof, looking for anything that he might be able to use for a shield against the sun, but there was barely anything worth having.

Displaced 2x4's, scrap metal not larger than a few feet wide or long, and the flooring to the roof was too secure to rip up either.

The sun was progressing. You were not.

As you were about to splay yourself over the grate, which really was far too large for just your body to make a difference, you heard and felt a familiarity come swooping in.

Your crows came cawing and flapping, landing next to you on the broad edge of the silo. 

You almost cried. 

Ebony was the first to hop to you and eye you curiously as if waiting for instruction.

"C-can you - can you all cover this and stop the sunlight from getting through down below?" 

Without so much as a pause, Ebony and the other five crows hopped onto a piece of rebar that made up the grate, spread their wings meticulously and created the most perfect make-shift wing umbrella you'd ever seen, completely blocking out all sunlight from below.

Several tears of relief went strolling down your freezing cheeks and you smiled, "thank you, thank you!" you whimpered, reaching out without thinking to stroke each of their heads with love and appreciation. In turn, to your surprise, you received tiny coos and purrs.

"I'll yell up to you from below when you can leave - thank you! I owe you all the croissants!"

A clatter pushed you back to the present and you looked behind you. Karl was standing there with the most 'what the literal fuck is happening' look on his face. The clattering seemed to be the large bit of scrap metal he had found somewhere along the line falling to the roof from his grasp. He just stood there, cock-eyed and slack-jawed.

There was little time for gawking. You rushed back over to him, wrapping your arms over your chest as the awareness of how damn cold it was up there smacked you across the face.

"The fuck was that?!" he blurted as the silent agreement to head back to the underground was put to action.

"Uh, well, they're my friends?" 

Yeah it sounded weird but you were literally talking to a lycan so, this was the farthest from the strangest thing that's ever happened in your life.

Karl chuckled loudly as he slammed the door behind him and the scaling of the ladder began once more. He grabbed the comm at his hip and radioed Dmitri, "you're clear to blow the son of a bitch, we, er fae-bae here got the top covered!"

"Copy. Charge still setting." 

"I'm gunna really look forward to getting to know you, bird-whispering fairy child - you are interesting as fuck," Karl mused as he led you back through the labyrinth of the underground.

You couldn't help but give him a look as he gave you a glance of his own, "fae-bae?" you inquired with a raised eyebrow.

He cackled, "get used to it; nicknames are my specialty. You outta hear some of the ones I have for your woman."

Your woman. 

Yes, she was your woman and you were hers. Even in this dire circumstance that gave you a blanketing warmth. And so many flooding emotions came from this and the enveloping of it was giving you more strength to carry on. This tidal wave of memories and feelings weaved through you and sewed you together for whatever lie ahead; you were ready; you were ready.

"Somehow I'm sure she has plenty for you as well; I may or may not have heard a few," you tested playfully.

"Oh yeah?" he asked just as the two of you were turning down another corridor, unfortunately being met with a rogue mutant far from the herd.

Karl's reflexes kicked in immediately and he shoved you out of the way into the neighboring wall, drew his gun as he kicked the mutant in the chest and began to blast. But it didn't go down as fast as the others had. It rose and charged Karl again. This time it was met by Karl's large fist to the face, the butt of the gun to the top of its head, and as soon as he put more distance between them, shot at it again and again. It only snarled and shrieked with rage and lunged once more.

You took this moment to test your magick, just to be sure you had the grip on it like you felt you did.

While Karl was almost getting bested in this fight, you hunkered down on the floor against the wall and held out your palms, focusing on the mutant with the need to protect, like you had with Malka. And you'll be damned if it didn't start to slow down, sputter, and stall as the sensation of prickly stinging numbness flowed through you. 

As Karl went to make his final blow with a gun barrel between the eyes, you saw the blood swelling in the mutant's eyelids before the bang went off.

It dropped like a bag of rocks and you smirked wickedly.

Yes, you were very much in control. Good. Because you wholeheartedly planned on killing Mother Miranda as soon as you had the chance.

You were slowly uncrouching from your spot when you realized Karl was yet again looking at you like you had become a tiny green alien in the last five seconds.

"Wh - what - the fuck? D-did you help me, did you do that??? Is that what you did to Mother Miranda? Do you just like - fry bodily circuitry or some shit?!"

You shrugged, feeling a little self-conscious, "I'm not entirely sure? I don't know what my magick does exactly. My friend calls it 'mind EMP'."

Karl burst out laughing and holstered his gun, offering his arm to you as you both stepped over the dead body, "Hoooly heyseuss kreestoose! We need a couple hundred of you to keep around; you're useful in a fight. Keep your bag of tricks handy, just don't mind EMP any of my bombs or electronics, ok?"

Your surroundings were becoming more familiar as the disjunct conversation was becoming quieter, and as the two of you made it down the same set of stairs you came in, you heard Dmitri's voice holler; "Charge is hot - cover!".

A loud pop echoed followed by a sharp bang that stung your ears, followed by a reverberating miniature shock wave that knocked you into the wall.

The view was a relief to your whole system.

Through the small puff of rising smoke and settling dust, the archway that had been sealed up was open and the entry inside was dark.

Donna was the first to climb over and through the rubble to get inside, Dmitri second, Angie remained outside the debris grinning like a mad-woman as she saw the two of you approach. You were set to head in as well but Karl grabbed you and held you steady.

"Hold on, let them bring her out."

He said as if he could read your damn mind.

From inside the hollow dark silo you could hear muffled, raspy female voices barely conversing with Donna. Several clangs and what seemed to be chains dropping to the stone floor echoed through, and then shuffling as Alcina's three girls were brought out first.

You'd heard Alcina talk about them at length, and even as defeated and worn as they looked, they were even more beautiful still than Alcina had described to you. Several bickering emotions decided to show their faces, but being overtaken by fear, uncertainty, and like the weird boyfriend mom brings home after divorcing dad and trying to make nice with the kids was not something you could deal with. This was not your place at all.

They were too tired to notice you anyway, and Donna had immediately dug through her bag and handed each of them what you deduced to be bags of blood to drink.

Everyone's attention now lie at the mouth of the silo once more, bated breaths waiting for Alcina's arrival.

Your heart was pounding so hard in your chest and through you whole body you felt like you were actually pulsing. Time felt so stupidly slow as you waited, as everyone waited, until Dmitri emerged with a limp, bloodied, grey-skinned Alcina in his arms.

Your feet molded to the ground. You couldn't force your muscles to move. She looked in a way you never ever wanted to see; dead.

Her once cream colored blouse was shredded and stained with crimson. Her skin slashed and gouged from each whip lashing. Dried blood covered her upper body, down her arms, splattered haphazardly around her neck, and some of her very sunken face. 

Everything fell to the pit of your stomach. You couldn't breathe, you couldn't think. The shock of what you were looking at immobilized you.

Dmitri carefully laid her down on the ground. You realized then how quiet it was as every little sound of the shuffling of fabric against skin and stone was almost violently loud in your ears.

The state of Alcina's shirt gave her barely a hint of modesty in its tatters, the very stark contrast of her black bra glaring against the cream, grey and red. And you could see then a very deep, ugly wound just below her sternum. A stab wound. One that gave you an ill remembrance of a story she once told you, and a scar you can recall all too vividly on her side. You don't know how you knew, but you knew.

Donna was immediately retrieving another bag of blood, hooking a tube to the opening at the top, hunkering down at Alcina's side and carefully placing the article to her dry, thin parted lips. She began to squeeze the liquid from the bag as her daughters gathered around their mother as the blood was administered.

Cassandra and Daniela held tightly to Alcina's hands as Bela propped her head and upper body up to help the blood flow down her throat.

You were frozen in your place. Still barely breathing. Making deals with unknown deities for your lover's recovery.

Karl sensed your disconcerted demeanor and carefully wrapped his arm around your mid back and pushed you forward so you could see.

Still, you could hardly move or force a reaction as the painful suspense dug its claws into your heart.

If she died, or was already gone, you could not fathom what the future would even look like.

You could not fathom a world... your world... without her in it.

Through the deep concentration of draining bag after bag of blood into their Matriarch, Donna thoroughly checked Alcina's forehead, throat, cheeks, and chest for something you couldn't understand. Warmth, maybe? Any sign of life? And the more this went on the worse the lines became in Donna's lovely face.

"It's not... it's not changing her state," she blurted, quite upset, tossing another empty bag with contempt across the hall, "her blood loss is too great, I don't have enough reserves with us to help her the way she needs - we need to get her to a medical bay immediately."

"The city is far too overrun and we have no idea where Mother Miranda is, the risk is not in our favor."

"She will die if we don't!" Donna barked at Dmitri's warning, "our options are none as it stands right now; it is either the risk or her death - what's it going to be?"

Donna, Dmitri, the three girls and Karl had a duel of exchanged silent looks until you couldn't stand the feeling of uncomfortable electricity sparking in your nervous system.

"Does anybody have a knife?" you asked, splitting the quiet, gaining everyone's attention, "My blood might help."

Donna blinked rapidly, "I've already given her six packs - she needs intravenous blood administration - "

"That blood isn't my blood. I'm not human, remember?"

Before another word could be exchanged, the sound of a switchblade flinging open could be heard and Angie stepped closer to the group, brandishing a sharp, shiny blade.

"Hi! Middle name's shiv, or shank," she grinned wildly, "er, should be anyway."

"Everybody move back," Cassandra chimed in, nodding at you briskly, "please, try."

The tension could not have been any tighter as you stepped forward and grabbed the knife from Angie, swiftly and precisely kneeling down next to Alcina as you rolled your sleeve up as far as it would go over your elbow. The sight of her this close made her condition all the more dire and you quickly placed the blade to the vein in the crook of your elbow and punctured it. Bela propped Alcina as close to you as she could; you placed the spilling blood to her lips, and grasped her freezing cold shoulder for more support; Donna held to the other side of your arm to alleviate stress to the blood flow, and you all knelt there in great anticipation as the seconds ticked on. You so wanted to wrap her up in your arms and care for her like you would in your apartment, but you didn't dare in front of everyone, especially her daughters. You had to put on a strong, distant front.

Your arm began to ache as you were starting to feel a coolness set in, but you closed your eyes and held fast. You could smell the thick metallic of her dried blood all over her and it made you wince, thinking about the pain she must have endured, and how badly you wanted to make them all pay for this. It was consuming how violent you felt inside. 

After at least a minute, which felt more like fifteen, you felt a warmth engulf the crook of your elbow; Alcina's tongue.

Looking over almost dizzyingly quick, you could see her eyelids fluttering and a smile burst across your face. You let go of your breath and held even tighter to Alcina as you felt her begin to drink voluntarily, her shoulder was no longer freezing cold and something even warmer than her tongue sprung loose inside you.

"It's working." You said softly, hearing the rest of the collective sighs of relief echo through the area.

Where Alcina had been in the dark, bleak confines of her mind before she felt life tingling inside her again was a place she didn't wish to return to. While everything was still in slow motion, she could comprehend the beautiful sensation of the hot, rich, satisfying blood that was coursing through her mouth and down her throat as yours. What a way to come back from the brink of nothingness. Her strength was slowly waxing and her senses began to creep up, but the wounds she had endured were becoming more and more fitful in the fight to heal. Your blood was vigorous and relentless and Alcina knew when the dam burst, the pain and brutal retaking of her body would be unpleasant at best.

And that moment was now.

Like an army breaking through battle lines, Alcina's body, at the mercy and aid of your blood, began to heal and reanimate itself with ferocity. Yanking her head back from wherever she had been feeding off you, Alcina cried out as the excruciating sensation of being reborn pummeled every sense in her body. It burned. It itched. It spasmed. It cracked and broke and then spilled out and over into a soothing warmth and numbness as some normalcy seeped back in.

With fluttering lids, she opened her eyes to see every face that was near and dear to her heart.

You. Her daughters. Donna. Dmitri. Angie. And, yes, even Heisenberg.

Bela, with the help of her sisters, scooted Alcina back towards the wall and sat her upright there. The three of them fawned over her through quiet whimpering relief as they clung to her with secure embraces.

"Shhh, Sunt aici. Sunt aici," she cooed, "iubitele mele, suntem cu toții aici."

(Shhh... I'm here. I'm here - my loves, we are all here.)

As you were being aided by Donna quickly wrapping your arm with a tight bandage, Alcina's slate colored eyes found yours and she offered you the most endearing smile you think you had ever seen in your life. It was a knowing smile. A proud smile. A smile that wordlessly said thank you in a way no language on the planet could express.

"Looong live The Real HBIC!" Angie shouted, accompanied by a short celebratory dance, "Woooooo yeah! That's what I'm talkin' 'bout! Now when the fuck can we go kick the rest of the smelly ass down here?!"

Well, the tender moment was short lived.

"Ang, please," Donna huffed, trying her best to stifle her smile, "Alcina still needs more nourishment and we need the rest of a plan."

"I'm with Angie," Karl butted in, giving Alcina a tip of his hat, "we got hot shot mind melter and our Matriarch back, let's go whoop some ass."

It wasn't so much bickering as it was very energetic clashing of ideas, but as they all spoke above you animatedly, you and Alcina once more stole calm, loving glances at the other through Donna shoving more blood bags in her face to drink and her daughters clinging to her for dear life, until a clobbering sound from the other stairwell shot everything into a halt.

Unceremoniously came a plump, sheepishly hunched figure from the shadows.

Salvatore Moreau slowly slipped into the light and the sound that followed had everyone rattled to the bone.

The throaty, shrill shriek had come from none other than Donna herself.

The tiny brunette had sprung from the floor and charged the vampire in question, pinning him to the wall as she bore her teeth in utter fury; "TRAITOR!" She screamed, her hand around his throat with nails threatening to pierce his flesh, "YOU WILL PAY FOR THIS WITH YOUR LIFE! I KNOW YOU AIDED MIRANDA - I KNOW YOUR FILTHY LITTLE HANDS HAVE BEEN ALL OVER THIS TREACHERY AND I PROMISE TO MAKE YOU PAY FOR EVERY DISCRETION UNDER THE SUN!"

During Donna's rage, Angie had donned perhaps the most psychotic look of glee any of them had ever seen. Even Karl was a little unnerved as he watched the whole thing unfold. Alcina had risen from the floor, and she too had now a look of murder on her stoic face. Dmitri had joined her side and you were watching quite unsure what to do with yourself next to the wall. 

"Please!" He squeaked, holding up his hands shakily, "Please, just wait! I have information! Information about Miranda! The mutants! I come in truce!! I have information you need if you want to win this war!"

Donna snarled even louder as she sunk her claws into his neck, "Why should I believe you?!"

"Because! Because! I - I realize - I realize I made a huge mistake! I chose the wrong side! PLEASE you must trust me!"

Karl carefully and hesitantly nudged the deranged looking Angie, "you uh... wanna do something about your sister?"

Angie's big eyes glanced at Karl momentarily, "oh... oh yeah!"

And she was off like a bolt, knife in hand accompanied by a cackle.

"No, n-not like that!" he huffed, dropping his head to rub at at exasperatedly, "I meant to stooop her from killing him, not help - oh Jesus fucking Christ what's the use." he muttered to himself.

Now Salvatore was at the mercy of two very deadly Beneviento sisters. His face showed every ounce of his dread as his big beady eyes shot from one sister's face to the next, knees quivering as he swallowed with struggle. 

"P-please, please, listen... I want to help," he swallowed once more through Donna's claws and Angie's knife pressed to his jugular.

Donna was still seething but paused, taking time to calculate and reason with her own rage before clicking her tongue loudly, "Alcina? Your call."

You blinked hastily as you watched with eagerness, noticing the very elegant and nonchalant movements of Alcina as she folded her arms over her chest.

"Bring him to me." 

She commanded with a dominance that made you weak in the knees.

He was yanked from the wall, drug to Alcina and thrown at her feet. He showed no signs of struggle or the urge to flee for his life, which in your humble opinion, would have been a smart move.

Alcina glowered down at him and pursed her lips, looking more and more like herself as the minutes passed.

She placed her hands on her hips swiftly which made him jerk in fear, but she remained unmoved, "it's a little late in the game to be switching sides, don't you think?" she snapped.

"My Lady," he quivered, bowing his head sharply, "please, My Lady, I am a coward and I will not deny it. Mother Miranda offered me falsity. Her lies I thought were truths became apparent the moment she made her move. It is never too late to redeem oneself from the side of tyranny. Please, let me tell you what I know, you will not defeat her otherwise."

"You seem awfully sure of this," Alcina bit.

"That is because, as Donna has said, I have been part of this from the beginning."

Silence permeated the area once more as all focus went to Alcina. Her eyes never left the sniveling man at her feet.

"Then speak."

The next several minutes was a verbal vomit of information that had everyone pretty fucking shocked.

Mother Miranda, in her psychotic search for perfection, had begun breeding and mutating parasites nearly ten years ago to infect fledglings to whatever end to make them into the mindless, deadly, stealth machines that had invaded their city. Salvatore explained her brutal trial and errors and the horrific mutations that had gone wrong and how simply she discarded vampire after vampire like a broken toy. How that when she had perfected the mutation to her liking as it stood now, she infected herself with the queen parasite DNA that gave her the complete control over the hive-mind of the vampires she controlled. When she is at her peak strength and ability, they are the deadliest creatures known to any vampire or lycan imaginable. But therein lies the Achilles heel to this creation.

"I had hypothesized it well enough in my own mind, but it wasn't until I realized you," he stated, nodding to you in the midst of everyone else, "had escaped and in the attempt wounded Mother Miranda, that the so-called hive mind did in fact falter. If Mother Miranda is vanquished, they become unarmed. They will have had their tie to their very reason for existence severed, hence, they will have no direction and they will quite literally be living statues. So, in order to win this fight, you must keep Miranda's strength at a bare minimum. You must keep her down. Otherwise, at full strength, there will be none left alive in the underground."

Once more, Salvatore's eyes returned to you, "whatever you have done to her, she is still recovering. In all my many years of serving Mother, I have never seen any foe deal such damage the way you have," his focus went back to Alcina, "but she is recovering, that is the part that is the most important. If you want to win this you need to act quickly and hastily. Your lycans and vampires have done much damage to many mutants, but at their best, ten of your men cannot best even one of them."

Not even fifteen seconds had passed before Karl was clapping and rubbing his hands together eagerly, "Aight, so, lessss go?" he gestured shamelessly towards the staircase.

"Not without more of a plan," Dmitri growled, "if Miranda is getting stronger we can't run out there guns blazing the way you like it, we'll start losing too many too fast."

Alcina sucked the last drop of blood from the last pack and threw it aside with a sharp sigh, "We haven't the time for planning. I need to find Miranda and bring her down."

"You can't do that alone," Donna added, "please let Angie and I help you."

"No, I need you both in the field - Angie I need your stealthy expertise to be the eyes and ears for the troops, can you do that?"

Angie nodded, "fuck yeah."

"Heisenberg, I need you, your men, and your explosives rigged in the best and most efficient way possible when that bitch begins to falter. Can you do that?"

"Roger!"

"Dmitri, I need you and your men ready to back up the lycans in their wave of attacks and whatever tricks lie in that brilliant military brain of yours, can I count on you?"

"Always, My Lady."

Alcina's eyes skimmed over you with a wink and settled on Donna and her girls, "and you three... I want Ethan and Mia captured. Alive. Make that happen."

Her daughters beamed with a wicked glint in their eyes, "yes mother," they all replied.

"Karl, arm them to the teeth."

Grabbing his chest in the most dramatic way possible, Karl staggered back and looked up at Alcina with a silent gasp, "y-you called me Karl! Oh my god, did y'all hear that? She called me Karl. See that? Near death experiences change a person. It's like she likes me or something."

Alcina narrowed her eyes, "keep it up and I won't like you again."

Karl beamed and straightened his hat.

Donna was still less than sold.

"I don't want you facing her by yourself."

"You'll be doing something much more important for me," Alcina smiled warmly, "you'll be protecting her," she motioned over to you.

You almost did a double take, "uh, sorry, not to be disrespectful but no, I'm coming with you."

"Like hell you are," Alcina retorted furrowing her brows, "this vampire in question is hellaciously unpredictable and deadly -"

"And off her rocker - yeah I know," you interrupted, "we've met personally and I escaped her."

Her face dropped cold, "you what?"

"Yeah, you haven't been brought up to speed!" Karl waltzed over, shouldering you playfully, "your fae-bae here escaped Miranda's sticky lil fingers after mind blasting her ass - pretty impressive if I do say so myself. I got first hand experience with her magick when she helped me fight off a mutant before we came and saved you. I uh, I'd reconsider taking the nuclear bombshell with ya," he winked at you, "two hell cats are better than one, baby! AND she's got a legion of crows at her command or some shit, that's how we blacked out the silo."

"Oh shit!" you exclaimed, remembering you'd not released your crows from their post, "and technically, they're called a murder."

Smirking at Karl you jutted to your right, hopped your way over the rubble of the blown blockade and peered up into the silo. It was still completely dark and you smiled, "you all did wonderful!" you shouted up to them, your voice carrying loud and clear, "thank you Ebony, Ash, Onyx, Noir, Sidda, and Shade! Please get home safely and be warm!"

Their caws echoed down to you and one by one they took to the sky, leaving a remaining brightness from the clear sky now that the sun had passed.

When you returned to the hall, Karl was shaking his head with his arms folded over his chest.

"Named every one of 'em, did ya?"

You returned his grin, "and?"

Alcina's eyes went from Karl to you, back to him and then you again before she was able to really collect herself. There was a lot to digest right at this moment. She had to choose wisely as to what she was ready to take a bite of. The crow issue was last on her list, you and your powers were at the top of it, screaming.

The two of you had only briefly spoken about the changes you were going through before Donna showed up and everything promptly fell apart. She didn't want to believe you had grown so much and she'd missed it all, but she more less wanted to believe you weren't strong enough to go with her, risking your safety if it wasn't necessary.

"Draga..." she stated softly, "this is... this is not a danger I want you anywhere near ever again."

You watched as her hands carefully rested on your shoulders, eying you in that beautifully desperate way.

"Uhm... Mother?" 

Came a voice you'd not heard before.

"Poate nu ar trebui să te îndoiești de ea. Cum ai încredere în noi acum, poate că ar trebui să-i dai la fel." Cassandra stated with a knowing smile.

(Maybe you should not doubt her. As you trust us now, perhaps you should give her the same.)

Man, you needed to learn Romanian.

Whatever her daughter had said gave Alcina great pause. The smile she gave Cassandra made you smile by proxy, it was so genuine and soft.

Taking one last look at you, Alcina dropped her hands and turned to gather everyone's attention.

"I have faith in all of you. Go, quickly. Make this a battle that will be painted in remembrance for whatever outcome lies ahead of us. Let our valiance and spite be known. Violently."

She turned back to Donna and took a deep breath, "I would like you to make use of Moreau. If he makes one move you don't like, kill him. But if he is truly set to redeem himself, use whatever knowledge he has and exploit it to our every advantage."

Donna nodded somberly, "and... you are off to find Miranda?"

"Yes," Alcina smiled, "and I won't be going alone."

Two sets of beautiful eyes from two beautiful women now rested on you.

[0perfectimperfections0]

The Grass on the Other Side: Part 2

Moxy wasn't joking when she said she wanted to hear all about the Institute. It didn't help that the Institute itself, compared to this place, was absolutely desolate. There wasn't really much to tell her.

When the topic of the Big World came up, that was when she really got invested. It was obviously the only thing she really wanted to know about. When Lou explained how the Institute worked; that dolls trained to be perfect and then went through the portal to go to the Big World, Moxy instantly lit up. It didn't go past him, the surprised look that Lucky gave him as well.

"It's real?" Lucky seemed genuinely baffled. "But I thought the Big World was just a story? Myths?"

That was what confused Lou the most. The fact that these creatures had heard of the Big World, yet only Moxy seemed to believe it really existed. Did all the creatures in this place think the Big World wasn't real? But why? Surely they knew they were factory rejects. Sent here because of some clogged up- oh...

Lou blinked down at Lucky, the pieces starting to fall into place. If these creatures were only here because of the blocked pipe, then maybe they really didn't know there was anything beyond this town. That still didn't explain how they were told about the Big World in the first place...

"Why haven't you gone through the pipe before to see what's through it?" Lou asked.

Moxy tilted her head. "What pipe?"

Lou rolled his eyes, staring ahead again with a flat expression. "The flower. Why haven't you gone through the flower?"

Her eyes lit up in understanding and, once again, Lou rolled his eyes. "Oh! Well, it's really high up. We don't really know how to get into it."

"What about the octopus thing? Can't she reach it?"

"Lefty?" Moxy hummed as she looked ahead to contemplate that idea. It never occurred to her to ask someone outside of her immediate friend group. She never really interacted with Lefty a lot. Mainly because she hated being far from the water. "Well...she really doesn't like being far from the ocean. I don't think she'd help."

Lou's eyes flitted up to the sky, noticing a flying white horse thing with one eye. He grimaced, but nodded toward the thing as it flew over them. "What about that thing? Can't it fly into the pi- flower?" Lou corrected himself quickly.

Once again, Moxy looked a little sheepish at the reasonable idea. Peggy didn't talk about the Big World at all. None of the other dolls here did, for that matter. Anytime she brought it up, they all either changed subjects none-too-subtly, or they went to get Ox involved to quickly dissuade her from talking about it anymore. "Erm...Peggy wouldn't help, either."

Now Lou was getting suspicious. Why was Moxy the only one trying to solve these mysteries? Did none of the other creatures even care that there was a strange flower protruding from the cliffside, spitting out random rejects? Did they not wonder where the rejected dolls were coming from?

He couldn't ask her about it before she changed her object of attention to the building in front of them. She skipped ahead, seemingly pushing aside the conversation for now. Lou squinted after her, lips pursed skeptically. Something didn't seem right.

"She's kind of an outsider, around here," Lucky speaks up quietly, noticing Lou's expression.

Lou refrains from scoffing at that. An outsider in a town full of outsiders? How much lower could one possibly go?

Lucky continued at Lou's contemplative silence. "She's the only one that thinks the Big World is real. W-Well...I guess except you, now, but you're from the flower, so...I guess you're not lying about all of that." Lucky looks down at the ground, face pinched in thought.

"But how do you know about it if you think it's not real? Who told you about it in the first place?"

Lucky shrugged. "I don't know. It's just a story that got passed down over the years. Moxy just took them seriously."

Lou shook his head, averting his gaze from Lucky and ahead to where Moxy was talking with a large, grey creature. "Who told you it was just a story?"

The red bat opened his mouth to answer, but Moxy suddenly called out to them. "Babo said he could help! Come on!" She had already started hurrying off toward the pipe before Lou and Lucky could meet with the other two.

Lou tilted his head back, sighing, as he watched her bolt off, not looking back to see if they were following. The grey creature gave the two of them a sheepish smile and a shrug. Maybe this was just something Moxy did all the time.

_______

Ox was on his way to the peer for the boat race that was supposed to happen in less than thirty minutes. They wouldn't start without him and he had a million other things to do today. Being late was not one of those things.

It didn't catch his attention until he noticed that, instead of greeting him with a wide smile, the dolls he passed by were engrossed in what seemed to be an interesting conversation. Once he tuned in, he caught snippets of it:

"He looks odd."

"Why is he so scrawny? Does he eat?"

"We never got an announcement."

"What's up with the suit?"

Ox slowed his pace down to try and gather more from the dolls, but everything was so vague. It's like they didn't know the name of this "he" person.

Something hit Ox on the back of the head and a doll passing by called out a bashful apology before tossing another newspaper to the neighboring group of dolls. Ox rubbed the back of his head, looking down at the front page. His eye widened.

It couldn't be.

[brilla-brilla-estrellita]

Crafting Wings

I finally remembered today that tumblr is a blog, and that in addition to whatever fandom nonsense I reblog, I can also post bloggy things on it. Obvious, right?

I am making a set of dragon wings for an event coming up in mid-June. They are of course inspired by Simon Snow and will be red dragon wings (though the pattern I bought from them is technically for a wyvern). I'm hoping that posting progress updates here will help me stick to it and actually get it done in time. I'm breaking it down into teeny tiny easy peasy steps and only looking at the very next step to try to keep the overwhelm and executive dysfunction at bay. This is likely to lead me down a path of "If I'd thought about it earlier, I could have..." But you know what? I always end up there anyway.

So first, I spent a long long long long long (long long long...) time trying to decide how to make these wings. I really wanted articulated wings, bonus if I could move them without obviously pushing or pulling or something. But looking at how people had made that happen was overwhelming. They require so much time and skill and I am prone to procrastination and crying and quitting when I mess up. I finally settled on this DIY Mechanical Wing kit by Chimera Wings. That would give me the frame for the wings, but they also have a sewing pattern (with printed AND video instructions) to make the covers for them!

This is what the contents of the kit looked like when I got it:

And this is the completed build! I almost didn't post this because I don't like the way I look, but you know what? Fuck that. I built something cool (using very simple, easy-to-follow instructions, sure) and I don't want to have to find a better fancier more flattering way to film that, so. I'm getting over it.

You can tell that I kinda struggle with the wing on my right side. I clearly need to stretch my arms out before wearing these. Truly. I tried it after I stretched and it's no big deal. Or maybe I'll add some sort of pulley after all. (HAH. Like I'll have time for that.)

Otherwise, the kit and wings are fantastic. It was so easy to put together and they feel very cool to wear. I should probably go write them a review...

I didn't actually takes pics of the next step, but I printed out the pattern on regular 8.5x11 paper and taped it together. It... was not very well done, but I'm hoping I got it close enough to not have messed up the pattern dimensions. After taping and then cutting out the completed pattern, I could move on to working with actual fabric!

I'm making a mock-up out of old sheets first because I have never once done any sewing project successfully the first time. I decided to mock-up only one wing instead of both, so this will surely be my downfall when I move onto the real deal.

The next two pictures are the front and back pieces for a single wing. I decided to cut them separately instead of at the same time by folding the fabric in half because every time I do more than one layer at a time, at least one of the layers comes out real fucked up. I blame being a lefty in a right-handed world. Scissors are of the devil.

The next step was to make buttonholes that are actually strap holes. I have a little baby basic machine, and it has some limitations. I discovered one of these limitations during my buttonhole test runs. As you can see, the machine-provided "buttonhole" stitches are just... lacking. I messed with a screw that controls the length of these stitches, but for some reason it can only be used to balance out the stitch lengths, not make them overall longer or shorter. I have no control for generally change stitch length. I only have the options presented to me on my stitch chooser knob. Alas, I have less than optimal buttonholes.

Pictured above: (Left) One very sad buttonhole test. (Right) A second buttonhole test in which one side is almost respectable and the other should be ashamed to call itself a buttonhole stitch.

Finally, I gave up and balanced the stitch lengths and just went with it. When I do the real deal, I will likely go use my friend's much fancier machine. For the mock-up, this is sufficient. The next three pictures show, with increasing zoom and blurriness, the completed buttonholes.

I am intentionally using very bright, contrasting thread so that when I inevitably fuck up, I can hopefully see the point of fuck up more clearly so as to rectify it on my next attempt.

And that brings us up to speed! Next Step: Pin the pieces together. That's it. That's the whole step. How many days will it take to overcome executive dysfunction and do it? Only time will tell.

As long as I can remember to update regularly, future posts should be quite short.

[pjunicornart]

Lazy Days Info Dump pt. 2

You read the title. Let's do this.

SO. I've been brainstorming ideas for the others characters within this AU, as in, the other Robinsons. These will just be little character bios, and these were made recently. So everything you see here is subject to change!

Lucille Still as lively as ever! When she's not baking or sewing, she's swimming in her family's pool. She tries to stay positive after the death of her husband, Bud... and that meant going to grief counseling.

Gaston A streamer/online personality. He started off by playing FPS games, but nowadays he's interested in the likes of indie games, especially indie horror. Yes... the other Robinsons have appeared in his videos on occasion. Like that one time Neil and Gaston made a "gingerbread house."

Art An intergalactic bounty hunter alah Celeste from HuniePop. It's from this job he met Lefty, and rescued her from danger. He's often away from the family for weeks at a time, but he makes sure to bring home cool alien artifacts for the kiddos for when he returns.

Fritz He makes OOAKs with old play line fashion dolls. He has the whole shebang... the 3D printer for more complex projects, the matte varnish, the sewing patterns, clumps of doll hair, a rooting tool, etc. He posts his creations online.

Petunia Not a puppet! She is still very much alive. Her first husband wound up in prison. He can rot in there for all she cares, because Fritz is a better man. He supported her dream of becoming a lawyer.

Tallulah A world famous model for a high end lounge, lingerie, and sleepwear brand. Her personality is inspired by Ashley's from HuniePop 2. Very chill and laid-back. Also the type to ask fucked up questions.

Laszlo Due to trauma from his past he'd rather not talk about, he's very intertwined with the internet aesthetic known as "Traumacore." This reflects in his digital art, using pastels and cute character designs mixed with dark and disturbing imagery. It's a coping/comfort mechanism for him. He's working on a graphic novel with this style.

Joe After undergoing bariactric surgery, he's taking his personal health a lot more seriously. His positive attitude online and drive to become a better him has landed him multiple brand deals.

Billie The hands on type. The type of girl to get her hands dirty building and painting model trains. She collects vintage and newer toy trains and displays them proudly on her shelf. Well, multiple shelves, actually.

Carl Built with a more cozy, humanoid appearance, he's the family's right hand robot. He's programmed with thousands of ways to enhance the family's daily lives, as well as advanced hardware to make him a truly intelligent AI.

Lefty The maid of the household. Her home planet was a desolate ocean, where a rogue group reined supreme. Now that she's on this exciting, new environment, she eagerly looks at everything with an intense curiosity.

Doris The butler. She's got some sass to her, I'll say that... She's got the same hardware that Carl has, so her developing her own personality was nothing to write about for Neil.

Spike and Dmitri Alien twins who were also rescued from one of Art's missions. They were never given names on their home planet, so the family gave them names. For some reason, they spend most of their day in the garden... sitting in flower pots. Maybe it's because their home planet was very lush? Who knows...

For more info about the AU in general and bios for the other characters, refer to this post -> Lazy Days Info Dump. For busts of the other members of the family, refer to this post -> Lazy Days Character Busts. Still wanna know more? Ask box is always open.

[1moreff-creator]

Not related to DRDT, But I saw in your pinned post you like FNAF. If you haven't answered this before, which FNAF game is your favorite? Or who is your favorite animatronic/character? I like fnaf1 foxy :)

Yee FNAF! I might not talk about it here much, but it is the fixation that Always Comes Back for me, so I’m glad to have an excuse to ramble about it :D

Favorite game is a bit complicated because I haven’t played all of them (my computer couldn’t handle the FLAF demo it is not running Security Breach), but depending on the day, it’s one of FNAF 1, Sister Location or Help Wanted.

FNAF 1 gets a ton of nostalgia points, the atmosphere is immaculate, and the little story it has is fantastic, though without as much complexity as later entries.

Sister Location is horrible on the replayability department… except I count the Custom Night DLC as part of the game, and that’s pretty fun. The game itself is fine on a first play through, has pretty good atmosphere, and (in my opinion) beats FNAF 1 in terms of self-contained story, themes and narrative weight, wider lore and character building. Night 5 is (in my opinion) one of the best written segments of any FNAF game, both Real and Fake ending.

Help Wanted also beats FNAF 1 in terms of self-contained story (those tapes are genuinely an awesome evolution of the Phone Guy concept), and the introduction of Vanny is genuinely captivating (regardless of how much they fumbled her in later entries), but it also added certain elements to the overall plot that I don’t quite like the ramifications of (even if I tend to ignore the “in-universe games” debacle, I dislike what it represents for theorizing). In gameplay it’s generally better than SL, but it’s not as charming as FNAF 1. Though I feel my opinion of it would change if I could actually play it in VR, but alas, that is not my situation.

It’s hard for me to pick between those, frankly. Probably Sister Location though, I just like the characters too much…

What shit I forgot Into the Pit. Yeah no it’s Into the Pit probably. Even accounting for recency bias the game’s insanely peak lol. Still gonna leave those other three there, for posterity xD

Speaking of liking SL characters; Baby and Puppet are my favorite animatronics, though admittedly that’s more of an extension of my favorite characters being Charlie and Elizabeth (that order). Btw, FNAF 1 Foxy is a very good and solid pick, I respect it :D

I genuinely think Baby in Sister Location has an argument for best written character of the entire franchise bar maybe Movie Mike, and I am willing to defend that take. A ruthless killer born of horrible circumstances, yet compassionate at heart (see: the very fact she chose to form Ennard instead of leaving with Michael’s body on her own, “the scooper only hurts for a moment” line), in her eyes betrayed by those she saved because of being… well, a child.

Shame her character got absolutely assassinated in FFPS. Unless she was trying to manipulate William. I know it’s not ever even remotely suggested, but I genuinely would have no (serious) complaints about Baby’s character if that’s what she was going for in the “I will make you proud” speech.

As for Puppet, old fan favorite for a reason. It was always a standout of the cast, which obviously meant I loved them, and the exploration of its personality in UCN in particular is pretty cool. To be clear, my enjoyment of Charlie as a character is based on highly specific interpretations of certain lines, but when literally 90% of the story is up to interpretation, I feel that’s not too surprising.

In particular, taking Charlie as a deeply regretful person, who realized how badly she fucked up by reviving the children only after dozens of night guards had been killed and they’d already been trapped for years, with possibly hundreds of deaths on her hands, just trying to make things right again. And, just, so, fucking, tired, by the time Lefty happens (see: Lefty UCN lines). And don’t even get me started on the angst potential of being tortured by her supposedly loving father in the Bear Torture Contraption, the mistakes of her past haunting her because Henry sees her as the bloodthirsty night guard killer that no longer exists (see: she doesn’t attack Michael in FNAF 3), and hearing that he wants to “save her now” as she burns half-alive. Etcetera.

Again, hyperspecific. But I like it, so.

For the sake of completionism:

My favorite Silver Eyes character is probably Elizabeth/Adult Charlie/Baby (why is this character so hard to refer to).

Favorite Frights character is probably Eleanor. She’s just so sassy and girlfailure and somewhat intriguing she’s fantastic (or, at least, better than other Frights characters in my books).

Favorite Steel Wool Era character is Gregory if he dropped the elevator and probably Vanessa if he didn’t (I wonder what that says about me lol).

Favorite Mega Cat games character is Oswald (not that many to pick from tbf).

Favorite movie character is Mike. Just a really amazing spin on the already solid basis of Michael Afton.

Favorite Interactive Novels character is Ralph (is it cheating if I mainly like him cuz he’s Phone Guy?).

And… do I really not like any character from Tales? I don’t remember almost any of the stories very well, but I guess if I’d liked the characters enough, I’d remember them.

Since I don’t care about Edwin for now, I guess the Mimic is the only real option, but I’m not the biggest fan. I have hope Secret of the Mimic will sway me to actually caring about the guy, though! I’m already enjoying what we have of Jackie, because in case it wasn’t obvious by the fact I picked Eleanor over Jake or Larson, I kinda enjoy the fucked up clown women quite a bit! Mimic will never be Ennard, but he can get close, and there’s worse things to be than worse-Ennard.

Thanks a lot for the ask! I might have been wanting to write about FNAF more than I’d realized lol.

[toomuchsmoshbrainrot]

silly little smosh fanfic game

So I played this game once really early on when I was BARELY following anyone on here. I'mma bring it back because I can.

I've delved back into writing fanfic for Smosh, and I'm working on one for Whumptober (started STUPID early, like back in February, because i Do Not Trust Myself to Finish Things).

My published fics so far, I forced myself to be a little more descriptive, but most of my writing, this Whumptober project included, is super dialogue heavy, and I feel like most of my ideas come from one little dumb line of dialogue that I then build around.

So I thought it might be a fun dumb lil game for me to post some of my favorite ones I’ve written, and see if people can figure out who’s saying them/if the lines have personality.

THE LINES (line breaks are to separate the chapters, so the ones in the same groups might have a lot of the same people speaking)

“Yeah, anyone can do that. I’d like an actual challenge, thank you.”/“And I’d like a friend that’s alive, thank you.”

“Well, if you boys are done, I’m going back inside. I’m not missing out on my entire lunch to babysit you psychos.”

“You do realize, when I said I loved you to death, you weren’t supposed to take it as a challenge, right?”/“Do I look dead to you? I lived, bitch.”

"Shayne says I'm a Chosen."/"Yeah, whatever the hell that means."

"If I find out you tried this again and you die, I’m raising you from the dead, and killing you again myself.”/“The scary part is I actually believe you could pull that off.”

---

"I know I joked that I was gonna go hard, but I felt bad. I couldn’t do it. Dude, I whiffed so hard, you thought I was Keith.”

“I’m sure it looks like I got punched in the face. Because I did.”

“Hey, for an asshole, at least he’s kinda weak…”

---

“She’s gonna kill me.”/“You know, I’m not sure if you mean Zoe or Courtney, but either way, I’m inclined to agree.”

“While I’m sure there’s a weird corner of the internet that would be into watching that, we’d never do that to you.”

“See? This is what I’m talking about… stubborn idiot.”/“OUR stubborn idiot.”/“If I had the strength to fight that right now, I would.”/“And yet you love us for some reason.”/“Pretty sure there’s only one person here I’ve actually said those words to, and it isn’t you.”/“Fine, they can take care of you, then.”/“Maybe I will.” (this one was originally just the first 2 lines... it's grown and i love it all)

---

“Nobody watching will ever even know what happened, you can make up as wild a story as you want.”/“Bears?”/“The animal or the gay kind?”

“It’s not gonna make you sweat, it’s the thinnest, tiniest, shittiest blanket we have. I’m pretty sure we rescued it out of one of Spencer’s desk drawers months ago."

“I’m not leaving you. Not in this state. You’re a wreck.”/“…Literally when am I NOT a wreck?”

(i have a few other favorite lines in this one but they rely on the context of the person's name, so they aren't fun for this game)

---

“Maybe if you wrote legibly, you could keep your secret. This looks nothing like any of the words you just said.”/“That’s on y'all for not being able to read.”/“…Wait. Aren’t you literally a lefty?”/“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

---

“Just needed to step out for some air.”/“Like… ‘the guys are smothering me with their energy’ air, or actual air you need to breathe?”

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I believe I am sufficiently stressed enough to have a good cry in the bathroom.”/“Oh my God, it was a JOKE.”

---

“I think I’m in a toxic relationship with your ramen.”

---

“Closed-toed shoes while we’re working, please.”/“I’m giving you feet content for free right now.”/“She has a point. There are literally power tools everywhere, and you’re walking around in fucking Birkenstocks.”

---

“He said he was going to get a blanket last I saw him. Maybe check Reddit Stories set? You guys are obsessed with that thing.” (chants *blanket lore! blanket lore! blanket lore!*)

“It’s not a fever, I’m naturally this hot.”/“Well, at least you’re feeling enough like yourself to say things like that.”

[joy-haver]

Part of why punk subcultures attract nazis is just that they are counterculture spaces, and the nazis are gonna hang out somewhere, but I feel like this explanation is often given to sweep any other explanations under the rug.

Really, I think a huge part of it is that punk scenes really focused around misanthropy. It’s always “I hate everyone”, “I’m a loner”, “fuck humanity”. Punk isn’t about saving the world, it’s about burning it down. Punk so often isn’t about loving each other, it’s about hating everyone else.

And that’s exactly how the fascist feel. And that’s why lefty punks are so often incredibly bigoted and just downright mean. You can’t convince someone to stop being hateful if their whole world view is build on hate.

Your love for the oppressed must be your driving factor. Not your hatred for the oppressor.

And also, So many punks are antisemitic because it’s so easy to convince them “oh yeah, those people you hate? The oppressors? It’s the Jews.” Because most punks aren’t actually hating the system for oppressing the world, they hate the system for oppressing themself and their friends. Which means they aren’t going to think to look at the actual structure of oppression. They just want their anger to be pointed somewhere.

Also, there’s so many nazis because there is already such a huge anti-theist trend in punk scenes. So if you try to talk them out of their antisemitism, they fall back on “but all religions are bad and oppressive, I don’t just hate Jews, I hate all religion!”

What I’m trying to say is that the anti-theist to antisemite pipeline is super short and punk scenes and there are fucking reasons for it that need to be addressed.

[cadyrocks]

Re: My last stupid discourse post on wokeness

I think it’s kinda telling that nearly every attempt to define “wokeness” is coming from someone who’s exceedingly critical of the concept. It’s quite consistent. Definitions of “Woke” aren’t coming from the people being labeled as “woke”; there is no political movement aiming to carry the mantle of “woke”; most people described as such would define their politics in very different ways. Nobody who wants to define the term to make their use of it feel more coherent actually likes the idea. It’s all deeply cynical, deeply critical, and often deeply uncharitable towards the beliefs in question. Again, see my last stupid discourse post on wokeness, a response to someone who insists that the entire concept boils down to ranking ideas based on degrees of oppression. What a douchebag.

Now, I’m going to be charitable, and assume these people aren’t just stupid culture war hacks (although, let’s be clear, some of them definitely are), and try to dig into why this is happening. As far as I can tell, the people who aim to “define” wokeness like this have been exposed to the right-wing version of the term - a straightforward meaningless snarl word used to demean any lefty politics they don’t like - and have also been exposed to a bunch of derogatory talk about leftist politics that they personally dislike and see as problematic*. So they try to put one and one together, and end up with a mishmash of vaguely progressive political stances, anything from DEI workshops at weapons manufacturers to police abolitionist rhetoric to trans people being mean to some heinous bigot they vaguely remember on twitter. This all gets labeled under the broad brush of “Woke”, and used to build something resembling a definition, followed by the insistence that this is a powerful force in modern politics.

It’s generally complete nonsense, with no understanding of power and no clear ability to pick up a newspaper and read a headline**. As far as political analysis goes, it’s worse than useless, much like calling something “political correctness”, for exactly the same reasons. You are trying to define a snarl word in a way that makes sense. Stop it. Get some help.

You want an actual definition? Ask the republicans who are legislating against it, and they’ll tell you! Woke, to them, means the belief there are systemic injustices in American society and the need to address them. That’s what they’re fighting against. That’s what they’re trying to ban. It’s that fucking simple. To the degree that “woke” isn’t a snarl word to these people, this is what they mean. You can stop twisting yourselves into pretzels to figure it out now.

*(FdB’s definition can basically be broken down into the various ways twitter will poison someone’s brain, it’s quite impressive. Oh, woke politics has no nuance? You don’t say, Mr. Twitter-Poisoned Opinion Pundit! What a surprising opinion to have!) 

**(There’s an ongoing trans genocide, abortion rights are under siege across America, police reforms are dead letter, various red states are banning books for having too many black people in them, and the democratic political establishment is doing nothing about any of this. But sure, let’s talk about how omnipresent and powerful “wokeness” is because you had to visit a diversity seminar. Sounds reasonable!)

[vullcanica]

📂 for 3 muses of your choice!

His 1.5 missing fingers and two missing toes Silas lost to frostbite. Being 13 and living in a forest hut means you're a little screwed in particularly cruel winters. He didn't know better, was undersupplied for the deeper snow, had no dry wood once the thatched roof gave under the ice and, at loss of what to do, undertook a trecherous trek back to town on foot. Collapsed in a snowbank a kilometer or two away. To this day he still jokes he's only alive because of the red hair, bright enough for a passing farmer to notice amongst all the snow. He was brought in and thawed out, safe and sound but for two blackened toes, a righthand pinky and a righthand ring finger, only half of which was cut off. A small price to pay considering the alternative. He's a leftie with a sword for that reason alone. No pinky, no grip strength.

The Tower's served plenty of functions in human society, from temple to office; it knows how to blend in. Constance's favourite has to be residential building, though. They're a fair, reasonable and helpful landlord and, while not the best conversationalist, they enjoy observing and interacting with humans. Sure, the place is strange but it has decent rent, shady tenants go missing pretty quickly and there's an unlocked janitor's closet (no janitor in employment) off the foyer that always contains items you're currently in great need of. Scissors, cables, drills, blankets, lost keys, pets and children. So long as you're respectful, it will always be unlocked for you.

Nikodemus is still fond of and honors his culture greatly, despite being the reason it was wiped out. Still, there's no place like home, even if home was rather hostile to him and some source of pain. He likes best the folk songs and native food he was reared with, thick dark broadleaf forests and simple lenins, chanting to the open sky and travelling by short plump mount. He respects earthen magics still though if he's long since left his behind, sticks to odd rituals, birth, wedding and burial rites, and even indulges in some of the silly little superstitions he never believed in. For nostalgia's sake.

[shinra-makonoid]

Are you able to explain what is going on in French politics right now? Why is Macron starting new elections (why would he do that to himself?) And what is up with the Left Alliance that was rumoured to be built?

And how are you feeling about all this?

So... It's probably going to be biased on the left part because I am a huge lefty.

Basically Macron, after the European elections, decided to dissolve the General Assembly, which is one of the parts that votes laws and reforms (with the Senate). Macron didn't have the total majority with the last legislative. Considering the problems among lefties, I think he imagined he could take the left votes to his benefit. Unfortunately for him... It's not really what's going on.

So there are new elections for the legislatives. The left parties, in front of the problems that is the alt-right, decided to commute together and create the "new popular front" (that is a callback to the time just before the 2nd WW). Unfortunately, the media has been pretty rough against one of the heads among it, notably from the party I vote for, that is Insoumis (the "rebels"), saying he was antisemitic and all of that (notably because they're for Palestine's rights and against wars, there is absolutely no proof of them being antisemitic btw, contrary to the alt right). Because of this, there has been a lot of tension among the new popular front, but it's been steady going so far. The main issue is the center left, which has a tendency to go more Macron rather than left in general (there have been betrayals in the past, notably with Hollande, a former president, that hurt the left a lot).

Macron has been a lot in line with the alt-right (xenophobic, racist, economic liberals) on pretty much almost everything (except Macron is more socially liberal, he's more pro LGB for example, wouldn't say T tbh).

Macron's party is kinda done in general, it's not very popular, most of their electors are going to the alt-right (which... Says something doesn't it). But he'd like that for the next presidential election, they'd do the same stuff as usual, basically: build up the alt-right, then try to look more reasonable than the left, and then get elected against alt-right (they've been doing this for 20 years, I remember my mother voting for right wingers when I was 5-6 because the alt right was against it). Killing the left would allow his destroyed party or another one like it in the "center" to do the same shit as they did.

The Rebels are kinda popping up with times tho, so I'm kinda hoping they might be elected for the presidential. But I'm not very optimistic about the legislatives. Right now it's alt right with the most seats at the assembly, then popular front then Macron's party. Similar to the US, it's by little parts of France that each seat is won, so it's not the number of total votes that counts. There are two turns, so basically what's after the third rank in votes disappears for the next Sunday.

I think that's all I can say, I hope it's understandable.

[hoursofreading]

Take the now infamous case of David Shor. He lost his job for tweeting about well-supported research that non-violent civil rights protests persuade people whereas violence turns the public against the civil rights movement. He told the truth, of course, but Lefty anti-police activists and various other Left types love and romanticize street violence for various complex ideological reasons and decided to make it a coalitional demand, during the Summer of George Floyd, that everyone adopt the attitude that a riot is the voice of the unheard and that street violence must either be cheered or blamed on the police (or sometimes both). So you couldn’t tell the truth about what tactics of civil rights protests are effective. And of course, the Left paid a dear price for that insistence that the coalition must not tell the truth— almost no significant police reforms came out of the George Floyd murder. Bills to abolish “qualified immunity” and allow citizens to sue the police? They failed. The much ballyhooed “George Floyd Justice In Policing Act”? Didn’t go anywhere. The Left took over a city center for a period of time (Seattle), allowing crime and mayhem to fester, and attacked government buildings in two more cities (Portland and Minneapolis), but in terms of actually doing something about Black people getting harassed or attacked by the police? Nada. Maybe, just maybe, if they had listened to David Shor and stuck to the truth, they would have been more successful. This problem, in fact, is getting worse and will continue to get worse. Because the problem is that the activist world works on deliverables, and rhetoric is an easy deliverable. What do I mean by that? Well think about how hard it is to pass a bill in this era of polarization. If you are promising your donors legislation, you are going to leave them empty handed a lot of the time, and many of them may stop donating. But language is a really easy deliverable. We’ve seen this in a related issue, which is the ridiculous lengths that Left activist groups go to propose new terminology and change the way governments and institutions speak. This is easy to do, because nobody wants to be called a racist and everyone wants to use the latest jargon. So if you want to convince Planned Parenthood and a bunch of Left-leaning bureaucrats to say “pregnant people” instead of “women”, you have given yourself a very easy task. And then you can tell your donors you got them to do this. And a very similar dynamic occurs with respect to getting your coalition partners to lie. Go back to my first example, the Republican rich donors who want tax cuts and talk up religion. Many of them certainly don’t believe in any sort of religion and see the entire enterprise as BS, but they see it as harmless BS. You can imagine their reasoning. “So what if I pretend to believe in God and Christianity. It’s harmless, it doesn’t mean anything anyway, and I can get these folks to support tax cuts that will grow the economy.” It makes perfect sense. The coalition partners are happy because they can go to their constituents with the deliverable, and you can get the policy outcomes you want. Only it isn’t harmless. All the conservatives who know that global warming is real but who don’t say so for coalitional reasons have succeeded in creating an environment where half the public will reflexively oppose any attempt to do anything about global warming, making the margins narrow even for the most moderate legislation, and encouraging Republican Presidents to dismantle measures to fight global warming to play to the ignorance of their coalition. https://dilanesper.substack.com/p/the-danger-of-coalitionism

[scattered-dreamers]

…….

Mike lives.

I JUST started The Fourth Closet and John has this ragged, weary, seen-too-much older brother feel to him much like Mike does.

In the FNAF movie, Mike has this weary, seen-too-much air about him much like John has in the beginning of The Fourth Closet.

Abby is the one who gets springlocked by (who I am assuming is) Lefty. Not Mike. She gets distracted by the door that she has drawn a million times over in her drawings and has no real explanation other than the ghost kids tell her about it.

Mike is more focused on getting them out of the collapsing building to really register the door, but after he sees it and sees Abby so focused on it that it haunts his dreams moreso than it did. Like John, he gets a glimpse of what’s on the other side of it like John does in his dream.

Augh!! I need to read more of this book. I’ve skipped to various pages but Charlie reappearing is still a mystery.

“I chose you.”

The fuck does that mean?? And two Charlie’s? The only thing I can think, because her project resembles what they all saw in the nightmare place they were in with the animatronics.

Was the Charlie we saw in that book and the previous… Was she an really ducking detailed AI who didn’t know she was an AI? Like… we’re the memories of Sammy planted? Was she really seeing herself get kidnapped? Like…. This is the kind of psychological horror I really like. The kind that makes you think and go “WTF”

So many reasons I adore this series and can’t wait for more movies.

[randomclam24]

I made an attempt to oblige the uploaders on germ theory on BitChute, but then I inevitably realized the act of actually getting to solid arguments one way or another in this shit-flinging was actually beyond the pale.

I remember, at some point, I made the statement that the way lefties expect people to make sense according to *their* thoughts, like the women that will divorce-rape you because they get the "ick", that expectation has nothing to do with the amount of effort applied.

So? Then I look at something in reality, and I realize there really *isn't* any merit in going beyond the pale of their expectations, because all these people are doing anyway is what comes down to repeated ad hominem arguments based in strawmen fallacies that they're making simply because they "have" their theory concluded in their minds in advance. If this is what is considered getting the job done intellectually, it's no wonder nothing ever gets done anymore in the workforce either. No, our problem runs *deeper* than the dropout crisis. Men don't know how to work. Our sense of satisfaction comes from this sense of being "right", which exists on essentially a virtual plane that doesn't exist.

If we had a solid argument in all that, the uploader would still be full of shit.

The current standings on the science are that it doesn't matter whether you're of the establishment or not: everyone, *everyone* finishes their argument by painting in broad strokes that every disease is categorized as *their* label, with no proof - with anti-germ-theory conspiracy theorists, it's awkwardly that they're "toxins" or "venom", which makes *no* sense because that awkwardness gives people the "ick", so to speak, setting off an entire tirade of pro-establishment wall-of-text. The scientific establishment itself has it established so that every disease, when you simply look it up, will be categorized as bacteria because it is made default. So on both ends, no effort or actualization is involved. The scientific method be damned. We're not living in a first-world country - when you step outside the bounds of what they'll teach you within standardized curriculum, it's like venturing outside your whitewashed neighborhood into what Kanye has dubbed "the Black Mass". "Astronauts Gone Wild" is thereby par for the course and then some, as you see these people catching things on fire flipping cars over every now and then for no reason or stimulus other than that some headcanon of the value of the ad hominem strawmen described got violated, and they're very angry. In reality, life doesn't have the intrinsic value to get all uppity about it. The average IQ is only 100, in the end. So aside from regurgitation-level understanding of what your curriculum teaches you at face value, what, you can play with Tinker Toys?

So basically - especially when they're lodged in a bureaucratic position in an institution that's deemed "too big to fail", humans aren't worth their salt - so you should not pay taxes. But this laziness doesn't even require the existence of an institution in the first place. The sense that they are right in a way that morally removes them from the fault of the flock suffices, so that the uploader will no longer feel the need to build their theory from the ground up to qualify it. You *might* find the meat of the argument in there, but there's no push toward it.

How it goes "Please prove that diseases etc. are either venom/toxin or bacteria"

"*Sorry*, I was already on course to just sit here and keep flapping my gums for another few hours until *another* set of tangents crop up" ( - then, for people that I actually am there with in person, then they finish and look around like everything's resolved, and I have to make my question from zero again, and then maybe they're like "*oh!*")

I don't know how to diagnose this except from what I heard from a Christian book, that people of modernity have lost their touch of what it means to be in an intimate environment - they seek after attraction after attraction like tourists

[lunarsilkscreen]

"We don't promote our best"

It's a rumor going around that the best don't get promoted, because they make the company money. I'd give it about 9% accuracy. They'll definitely be blamed for the company exploding when they leave.

And they're not promoted because they're so busy jobbing, they don't have the time to rub elbows with management. Or meet frivolous goals that management expects. The kind that don't matter in the long run but scream "team player".

Organizing company parties for example. Nothing wrong with that. Morale is valuable. But it doesn't exactly get the work done.

Promoting the person doing the job, allows them time to do more important things like writing style guides, technical manuals, and processes. All things that help the others around them do their job better. Things, typically expected from the people promoted into management, who then ask the jobbers to write those things because they were too busy with the company party to consider it.

I sound bitter. Maybe I am.

It could literally save you hiring outside consulting to promote that one individual. Which companies often hire outside consulting to cover process improvement, and they cost money to do so.

It's also why people like me studied process improvement, to be more valuable to the company. Because that's what's expected of us. It's also part of the reason recruiters see my resumè and throw it out. They think "nobody can know as many things as s/he says she does."

I have videos proving my knowledge and experience you can review. But that's beside the case. An example of my bitter heart.

The fact is, the most knowledgeable and experienced among us are often overlooked because we're "hard to get along with". You know why? Because when we see somebody at the same level as us acting like they're fresh out of training and they don't understand what they should already know.

Things like acronyms, key words, common design or work patterns. How to use the tools that come in the default toolkit. Then we start treating you like you don't know what you're talking about. We put the "kid gloves" on. And understandably, since we're "the same level", you feel patronized that I have the gall to explain to you that "clearing your cache" will help your browser get the new build off the website.

Or "righty tightly, lefty loosey" or any number of simple concepts.

And every time you say something dumb we say "aw, isn't that cute."

If you aren't knowledgeable in the job you're doing, it your job to learn. And that's why we don't insult you to your face when we know you don't know.

Cuz everybody has to start somewhere. But you also shouldn't be upset that we noticed.

In Short; management needs to take note of who is actually taking the initiative to train people in making their jobs smoother. Whether or not they're teaching above or below their rank. And, not be such a baby about it when they're called out.

And if somebody like that does get set off, maybe take note of how much stress they're under. Yeah, counsel them if they need it. But also know, their stress levels don't lower until you take work off their plate. (And no, that's not what demotions are for if they're overloaded from being short staffed. Or being the support column.)