#but when you click on the individual picture it's fine

[swapmeetsimming]

Nail Art Set + Freebie!

The nail art set is up for EA! Here is a direct link to the public preview on Patreon with more pictures and information! The freebie is at the bottom

Or, here is the information all here if you don't want to click:

The Set has way too much tiny clutter items. If I had half a brain, I'd have done what other people do and made clutter "groups" instead of making everything individual.

Like always, all simlish text was made with the wonderful fonts from https://franzillasims.tumblr.com/

The set features a "travel" workstation on two variations. The open version is a mini-desk, and is fully functional as one, and is base-game.

The closed version is basically a tall end table. it has six small deco slots on the top, surrounding the handle.

Both versions have 11 swatches. Make sure to have bb.useobjects enabled to access all the slots! :)

A small rolling cart. six slots on each layer. 4 swatches.

An UV curing lamp. This turns on and off, and only glows from the inside. 3 swatches.

An Arched desk lamp. This is so cool - I would have loved one when I was customizing dolls and minitures! Glows only from the bottom and slots onto the desk!

Two neon lights. The pink one is a false light, it kind of has the illusion of glowing, but just looks pretty. The blue one is an obnoxiously bright light, that illuminates everything around it. Looks best outside! ^^ The blue one is free now!

A handheld nail drill with bits, or a dremel if you are familiar with the tool. :) The drill and bits are separate items, both in 3 matching swatches.

A dust vacuum/collector - this is absolutely necessary when you a using a drill and filing nail tips. It sucks up all the harmful residue the drilling creates. 3 swatches.

Tissue/wipe dispenser. 5 swatches.

And a whole TON of clutter.....

A stand for displaying and working on nail tips.

A nail brush and clippers.

A set of cuticle tools.

A set of files and buffers.

A set of fine brushes.

A small glass for ...something.

A small container of glitter.

A magnet wand for cat-eye effects.

A tube of nail glue.

A bottle of gel polish with 20+ swatches

A bottle of Base/Topcoat/Matte Effect. Three swatches.

A set of polishes that can also slot into the workstation top.

A set of nail stickers. 5+ swatches.

A roll of metallic detail tape. 3 swatches - silver, gold, rosegold.

A little round storage wheel for rhinestones.

A toe separator.

A pair of fine tweezers for setting tiny details.

An orange cuticle stick

You can get the obnoxiously bright neon light as a freebie, right now!

It's at the bottom of the Public preview post!

[moderninfatuation]

I am totally interested in seeing how you write Leon Kennedy and Luis Serra (my two favorite male characters of the RE universe), but I don't think I can provide any interesting prompts. The most I can think of, right now, is either of those characters and how they would survive the apocalypse with the reader. But, that's a bit vague. Uhm, is Leon Kennedy meeting up with a scientist reader who's dedicated to finding a cure an interesting prompt? (Probably not, huh?) Or Luis Serra surviving with a reader who's holding him captive for some reason (like a reader that gives Ada wong vibes?)?

note: hello :) I do find your prompts interesting, but now I need to make sure I do your favorites justice >< let me know what you think! I definitely think I could describe the actual interaction between you and the characters more, but it always takes me so long to get to, so i might make just have to make a second part

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Scientist!Reader with Leon and Agent!Reader with Luis

characters: Leon S. Kennedy and Luis Sera, seperate

tags: sfw, agent!reader, scientist!reader, gn!reader, kidnapping, references to drugging

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Leon & Scientist!Reader

Finding a cure for anything within current times is hard, of course. If anyone is intelligent enough to realize that, it’s probably you. Once a junior scientist held in high esteem by one of the bigger pharmaceutical companies in the area, you’re now forced to dig through the rubble of what was once lined up office spaces and laboratories, the logo of the company you worked for looming over you from what is left of the buildings as if it were threatening to crash down on you one day. That doesn’t stop you from trying, however, much to the dismay of most of the people who used to be your higher ups. You feel like there is constantly someone on your back, just waiting for you to be careless so they can strike down your attempts to help - that is all you wanted to do, but it seems as if right now, helping earns you more enemies than it does allies.

Leon is among the very few individuals you trust enough to tag along. He found you, crawling through what was once a cooling room, the glass of what used to be syringes and test tubes crackling below your weight as you scour for anything that could be of use later. The place was positively trashed as the scene was fled just a few months ago during the initial outbreak, but you decided to come back anyway, always on the lookout for anything that moves and anything that breathes. You nearly passed out from the shock when suddenly, Leon stood behind you, telling you to raise your hands while you could only hear his heavy boots on the tiled floor and the click of his safety catch. It made the hairs on your nape stand.

It used to be a little hard to get a proper read on Leon. He was quiet at first, too busy keeping an eye on your surroundings as well as you while he was escorting you out of the building. What if you were infected after all? What if it is just an elaborate trap to get him out of the picture? There was always a shadow of suspicion following him around. However, you get it. They’re out to get you once you’ve seen too much, and you and Leon perfectly fit the picture. It gets easier to spend time around each other once the both of you let the realization sink in.

Ever since, you’re a duo like no other. If it weren’t for the fact that he’s a grown ass man, you’d say he’s attached to your hip; like a gun ready to be pulled when you’re in a tight spot. That is most he does when he follows you, actually: showing off his combat skills when it gets dicey. You’re thankful, of course, but you also managed to do it just fine on your own… or at least, that’s what you’d like to say. Truth is, you almost got your head crushed one or two times in the past because you were too focused on a gleam coming from a crack too tiny to put your arm in than on the dangerously tipped storage cabinet barely supported by said crack. Leon is just the guy for the job: holding up furniture, fighting off the infected, hell, ever since he’s warmed up to you, he even likes to joke around, hoping to get a laugh from you despite the differences in humor.

Leon can be stern with you, too. It doesn’t feel right to call it scolding, but he will furrow his brows and tell you to be more careful at even the slightest injury. He also insists on bandaging you up if things get bloody, not letting you do it yourself. If you push and complain hard enough, all he’ll do is raise his eyebrows in surprise, hold up his hands defensively and take a few steps back to let you do your thing - and to partially to keep himself from raising his voice. He would usually follow it up with a little quip too, just to defuse the tension, but also to see your reaction. His smug expression betrays him right before he drops the dreaded “Right, you’re the doctor-” before you have to remind him for what feels like the hundredth time that you’re not a doctor, as if the lack of a doctorate still matters now.

While he doesn’t know much about “science-stuff”, as he calls it, Leon knows enough to join the conversation. He likes to join you at your desk, asking questions and pointing at your equipment in the dark of the night, only illuminated by the wiry desk lamp and occasionally his flashlight when he gets bored. There have been times he fell asleep right next to you, too, snoring softly with his head hanging low and his lips slightly parted. He smiles gently and congratulates you with friendly shoulder bumps and pats on your back whenever you’ve made a new breakthrough or discovery in your research. His support is the most valuable you could get right now, especially since he’s competent enough to go out and get more supplies for you without, well, dying along the way. You have found your own kind of normalcy as the city around you gets rebuilt over time, a cure closer than it seems thanks to your sleepless nights and Leon’s eagerness to help. 

════════════════════════════════════

Luis & Agent!Reader

You decided to take the harder path in life, it seems, but it was never really a decision, per se. You’re merely a product of your surroundings and circumstances… but it certainly was a decision when you took on your very first job to steal. It could just be a one time thing, right? A swipe of your hand when nobody seemed to look in exchange for cash that’s worth twice the amount of whatever you have to take. Your career took a dark turn once you realized that there is no coming back from the downward spiral that becomes clearer as your jobs go from theft to smuggling to assassination. So, the only solution is to keep going, to keep your head up high and to not look back. Let the paycheck distract you.

A new job you had the pleasure of coming across is significantly more risqué, but also rewarding like no other. Your enigmatic new ‘employer’, if you could even call it that, sends you out to kidnap someone in exchange for protection. Not a first, exactly, but something tells you this is much more serious than your previous jobs. Now here you are, brushing the dust from the abandoned factory building’s roof off of your shoulder as ex-Umbrella scientist Luis Sera sits in front of you, struggling against the bindings supposed to keep him still while the empty potato sack obscuring his vision muffles his grunts. Not his first kidnapping, judging by the way he doesn’t even try to call and scream for help.

Luis groans in confusion as his brain slowly recovers from the Rohypnol you used to make him pliant and easy to carry. His eyes get adjusted to the spotlight shining directly at him, and for a second, the both of you make eye contact. You step out of the way before the laptop you set up takes a picture of your newest (and only) captive, ready to send it to your boss. “Mierda…” is all you hear from Luis for a long time, slurred as he immediately looks around for any means of escape. Yes, this guy definitely has experience. But why him? Upon first look, he just looks like any other biologist you had to sneak past. Lab coat, eye rings, the stubble that comes once self care becomes luxury in the face of deadlines.

You’re quick to find out that Luis is talkative, effectively destroying one of the very few scientist stereotypes you were aware of. Some people talk just to calm their nerves, but if he does it for that reason, he’s very skilled at keeping up the facade of extroversion. Some attempts of “Care to tell me where we are?” followed by a quiet “Eh, not the talking type, I see…” before he goes silent again for… what, 5 minutes? You almost regret pulling the potato sack from his head. He even asks for a cigarette at some point, to which you scoff in reply.

Hours pass as you realize that you’re not here to scare him or to “get him out of the picture”, so to speak - you’re on a mission to hide him. You aren’t given more details by your boss, except that you should probably keep Luis tied up. You’re more open to conversation now that you know you’re stuck with him for… unspecified time. Once you give him some input on the current situation, leaning onto the shoddy table behind you to get comfortable, you see him relax visibly. “Ahh, so you can talk! Was getting afraid we didn’t speak the same language.” he teases, a smug expression decorating his face now. He seems like an entirely different person now. And the worst part? He sees right through you, despite your attempts to remain calm and quiet. “I’m starting to feel like I know more about this situation than you do…” The hint is all he needs to earn himself a glare over your shoulder as you hope for further instructions appearing on the screen in front of you.

Your hands are less than gentle after an hour of convincing that he won’t run off leads to you cutting open his bindings. “Thank you.” Is all he mumbles before standing up, idly wiping his thighs and stretching his legs. It isn’t exactly professional to deny the orders given to you, but he doesn’t seem like the type of guy to initiate fist fights. He runs circles in the small room, patting his jacket for a lighter and his pants for the cigarettes to match before lighting himself one, exhaling smoke into the cold air surrounding you. The evening continues like that. You can’t help but be… charmed by him and the way he hums to himself as well as by his useless attempts at conversation with you. He occasionally looks over your shoulder, nagging you with a “There’s a far more efficient way to use-” as he reaches out for your keyboard while you can only watch and rest. It’s not like he’s checking your messages or anything, right? Occasionally he wanders off too far, followed by the noise of metal on metal and the shuffling of feet as he explores the building, only to find his way back to you.

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[hillbillyoracle]

So you want to print and distribute a free zine...

I wanted to throw together a short tutorial on how I print zines using this excellent COVID safety zine by @newlevant as an example.

Printing

First make sure you are clicking on the printable file. When you open it, it should look slightly jumbled. I always look for seeing the front cover and the back cover on the same page.

Then click "print" (usually a printer icon) and open "more settings".

The key things people tend to get wrong when they try printing zines is they forget to make sure that it is double sided and flips on the short edge. If you tried printing one and it came out looking wonky, make sure to check this.

Also, it will make your life infinitely easier if you use the collate option should you have it available to you.

Fit to printable area is a helpful setting to have on if you're printing zines who use a different paper standard than you. This zine didn't for me but I leave this on out of habit.

When you've got this all set up - print as many copies as you want to assemble.

Assembling

When you get them out of the printer they'll look like this. Just a big old stack. I highly recommend parsing out each individual copy before you try assembling any. I have made that mistake before.

This is how I stack mine.

I like to leave the cover side up as it makes for a clearer division as I'm assembling.

As you're flipping through these to parse and stack them, check them over for any issues with printing. I ran out of printer toner on the first three so I'm glad I checked.

Imperfections are fine but you're looking for anything that makes critical information unreadable.

To assemble a copy, get them lined up by tapping them on the table along a short and a long edge.

Both hands is a lot easier but I was trying to take a picture lol

Then fold them hamburger style and smooth down the spine as best you can. If you have a bone folder or similar use that.

Again, let go of perfection. We are looking for good enough here. Minor errors here should not make info unreadable so don't sweat the small stuff.

I recommend doing all your folding in one go to prevent errors. Or at least it really helps me.

Now it's time to staple. You will see my fancy stapler in the background - you do not require it and I would not recommend it. Unhinging a normal stapler is way easier to use in my opinion and this one gets jammed fairly easy. Use what you've got.

If you don't have staples, but you do have sewing supplies - check out this tutorial for a way to bind it with thread.

If you have no staples and no thread, you don't have to staple every zine. Smaller ones (~5 pages or less) do fine with no staple. They can be a little tougher for some people to use and don't hold up as well being taken in and out of places so I would consider that when thinking of where to leave them. They're still well worth printing and putting out.

This zine is small enough that one staple in the center should be enough to keep it together.

I opted to staple in two places - one about an inch in from either edge - mostly out of habit. It does add a little stability and will make them a little better for putting in Little Free Libraries and other places where they'll be removed and placed back.

Here is my partner looking over the zines to make sure my stapling didn't cut off any important information in each copy. It's a little tedious but it's pretty important. A quick flip through can mean the difference between someone getting the info you want them to have or not.

And here's the finished product

I made 15. I'm pretty privileged and have been making zines for over a decade now so it's almost like knitting or crochet for me. Feel free to make fewer copies or just one for yourself. It still counts.

I will stick some in each car and my bag. I have some medical appointments coming up so I will for sure be leaving some of these in the waiting room.

I'm also going to keep an eye out for Little Free Libraries and other place where people are looking for something to read. I might also toss some on the tables of a coffee shop I pop into sometimes (masked, take out only) and the library to pick up books (also masked).

I tend not to give them to specific people, even people I know, because people are way more open to information they've picked up themself than something it feels like someone is pressuring them to read. But if people bring it up in conversation, I'll be sure to offer a copy to anyone who is interested.

Hope this is helpful!

Go out there and print!

[damianbugs]

in remembrance of that anon that i tragically lost, here are some recs for THE most underutilised duo in the batfam. i could write ridiculously long essays about the tragedy of these two characters, and how they could become something great, if dc would get a grip a let tim grow up, preferably in the next decade. no complaints about damian. he is perfect.

this is also a cry for HELP. PLEASE write more big brother tim fics i am literally on the verge of collapsing as i ask. he is so unprepared but well meaning big brother so let him carry out his duty towards damian and duke PLEASE.

right then, anyways:

TIM AND DAMIAN FIC RECS ON AO3

miles and miles (in their shoes) by JUBE514

Where is Damian? Why can’t he see anything clearly? Where is the little brat? Damian had been by him in the cave when everything had exploded, they had been arguing like always when the two of them had gotten the punishment to go clean the trophy room, stop yelling at each other, stop being at each other's throat for two minutes and go clean the goddamn trophy room-

They had been cleaning, got into another knock out drag out argument, and it had come so close to blows and they had been screaming more than cleaning and-

The stupid fucking shoe, in the magical section- exploded out-

--

Tim and Damian switch bodies, the two of them realize exactly why the other does the things they do.

MY NOTES: i know body swap aus can be a little worrying, but this is a phenomenal fic on not just the complicated relationship between tim and damian, but also their own individual struggles and how that brings them closer together in an unspoken yet profound way. a must read if you appreciate the characters in their entirety.

Biphasic Reaction by renecdote

People may have allergic reactions all the time and be fine, but they can also die from them. He has a flash of sudden, morbid curiosity about what the exact statistics for fatal allergic reactions are.

MY NOTES: secretly protective big brother tim u mean the world to me. they are so fun in this, even with the medical emergency occurring alongside the sillies.

i only sink deeper (the deeper i think) by call_me_steve

Drake clicks his tongue and tilts his head off to the side. “This really isn’t as fun as I thought it would be.”

Oh, really? Damian starts furiously finger spelling, just to be annoying. You know, I thought the floating platforms would be of the utmost excitement.

“I caught a solid half of that and I think you’re making fun of me.” Drake goes to shift before remembering that he can’t - his face beneath his domino contorts into something unpleasant. “My legs are falling asleep, dude.”

You move, signs Damian, for real this time, and I go under.

“You talk,” Drake shoots back. “And I go under."

MY NOTES: it wouldn't be a real saki fic rec post without at least one kidnapped and almost dying in order to escape fic. i think about the conversation about love and danger at least once a week at random intervals and do not know how to be normal about it. at all.

The Wound Begins to Bleed by audreycritter

Now that Tim’s moved back to the manor, he just wants a few afternoons a week without Damian around.

Funny how getting that was the catalyst for him becoming a better big brother.

MY NOTES: okay so maybe i've read this a billion times and maybe it's my favourite tim and damian fic ever to exist but isn't that just proof you need to read it too? such a real fic. so personal. can't think of anything else but u must read it

picture perfect memories by Fandom_Trash224

“I… require assistance with something. I believe you are best-suited for it.”

Tim raises an eyebrow, but motions for the younger boy to enter his room. As Damian does, he slowly closes the door behind him, and Tim notices a small piece of what Tim assumes to be paper in Damian’s hand. Then, he realizes it’s not just a piece of paper: it’s a photo.

Damian approaches Tim, holding out the photo at arm’s length once he’s close enough to do so, saying, “I would like you to explain this photo to me.”

Tim glances down at it, and to both his surprise and mild horror, he recognizes the photo.

MY NOTES: oh... oh. Oh i am on the ground dead forever. damian and tim bonding over the shared fact that they got a version of bruce they'll never, ever meet. finding a common ground in grieving something they never had. oh.... how marvelous.

The Study of Birds by MaskoftheRay

Tim and Damian have hated one another since the day that the youngest Wayne arrived in Gotham City. A few years later, that hatred has cooled into a mutual disdain and somewhat-wary tolerance. If necessary, they can even work together— though neither likes to. Then Tim discovers that Damian enjoys bird-watching too.

Or: sometimes the difficult things are the most rewarding.

MY NOTES: truly something so special about stories where tim and damian find comfort and something to cherish in animals. a middle ground born from compassion and empathy perhaps. so sweet.

[isaaaxqii]

cookies with a side of feels ·˚ ༘ - megumi

summary : in which megumi greets you with cookies at the front door of your dorm as his heart aches to tell you how he feels truly.

** : sfw, fluff

note : i love megumi sm🤍🤍

< 8.34am >

knock knock.

nobara and itadori stood at a distance, watching megumi, who was was holding a container with cookies in it, knock on your door nervously. their friend was never that experienced with love, knowing that he was always preoccupied with training. however, ever since he met you, he found you intriguing. the way you fought, cared about others before yourself, and offered any sort of help to others seemed to have him develop a small crush on you. you were also a smart individual who doesn’t get swayed by lies and manipulation easily, knowing how to assess your surroundings before acting.

“make sure to leave a small gap at the door! we want to know what’s happening inside!” megumi hears itadori say before he nods his head in annoyance.

“who’s at the door on a free day…” you muttered, rubbing your eyes as you go to open your front door. you see megumi’s figure, holding a container. you felt slightly embarrassed that he had to see you in a state of mess after you woke up. but whenever you were around him, you can’t help but feel a sense of comfort as well. your embarrassment quickly washed away.

“megumi! what brings you here? wanna come inside?” you greeted, making way for him to enter. he enters quietly, taking his shoes off before closing the door behind him halfway.

both of you sat on the couch in a comfortable silence before he speaks up, handing the container filled with cookies to you.

“there are some cookies in here. nobara, itadori and i made them for you.”

you accepted them gratefully, a wide smile forming on your face.

“thank you so much! but what’s the occasion?” you asked, confused at the sudden gift.

megumi doesn’t know how to put his feelings into words. he’s never confessed to anyone before. he recalled what nobara told him, and started to form out a small confession script in his brain, before spilling his heart out.

“megumi?” you called, seeing him zone out.

“y/n i… ever since i met you, you have never failed to help those in need, and train yourself to be the very best. that means a lot to me. and one time, when i was in danger on field, the way you immediately stepped in to defend me without hesitation made me feel something. and from that day on, i swear to protect you.”

“megumi, what are you saying?”

“i’m saying, i like you, y/n. but if you can’t return my feelings, that’s fine as well. i just want you to be aware of them.”

your eyes widened at his speech. you never expected megumi to have feelings for you, knowing that he was always so focused on trainings. your face grew hotter and redder, and megumi could see that. he laughed at the sight of you.

he thought, 𝙝𝙤𝙬 𝙘𝙪𝙩𝙚.

“megumi i’m sorry but..”

he swallows his saliva.

“i like you too.”

he felt confused. so why did you say sorry?

you giggled at the sight of his confused face. your plan to tease him worked. he caught on quickly, knowing your true intentions.

“y/n, i almost got a heart attack. please don’t do that…”

you hugged him as an apology, your hands around his neck as you comb through his hair. his face grew red before he slowly settled into your touch, his hands wrapping around your waist. he snuggles his face into the crook of your neck, holding you tight.

click.

both of you simultaneously turned your heads to the pair standing outside, their phone cameras facing towards the both of you.

shit. megumi forgot those two were spying on him.

“itadori, kugisaki…?” you muttered, now being the confused one.

“congrats you lovebirds! leaving the both of us single..” nobara sighed before you let out a small laugh.

“itadori, kugisaki! don’t send that picture anywhere!” megumi warned, but before he could finish, itadori hit send.

your phone received a notification in the group with the year 1 and 2 sorcerers, as well as gojo. you picked up your phone from the coffee table and opened up the chat to see a picture of you and megumi hugging. the chat started to fill up with many messages, with many asking if the both of you were together, and gojo teasing the both of you.

what a hectic but heartwarming morning.

hope y’all liked this one 🤍

[imitationgame77]

What is Aromanticism???

Here on Tumblr, I see many posts mentioning aroace, aromantic, queer-platonic, etc., and I have been trying to understand, but still find it difficult.

If a person describes self as aromantic (= have no experience of romantic feelings towards others), this is fine. It is subjective definition, so must be respected.

But I don't know what it means when a relationship between two individuals is just described as aromantic, I don't know how to interpret that, unless there are more descriptions.

It is almost like dividing all the fruits into apple and non-apple. We can accept that it is NOT an apple, but then what is it?

Obviously, if we are talking about two individuals who can agree on their interpersonal relationship, that is fine. But when there is not necessarily agreement between the two participating individuals, how do the outsiders know?

Even more so, if these are fictional characters.

An American psychologist Robert Sternberg developed the famous "Triangular Theory of Love" in 1980s, where he characterised love between individuals with 3 factors: Intimacy, Passion, and Commitment. When these are combined you get 7 types of love. (Liking, infatuation, empty love, romantic love, companionate love, fatuous love, and non-love).

Generally, passion is interpreted as related to physical/sexual attraction.

So, if you see two individuals who seem to like each other a lot, but remove Passion from the picture, you are left with either "Liking" or "Companionate Love".

Companionate love is great for long-term relationship where the excitement is gone, but trust, caring feeling and understanding are still there. But I feel uncertain about calling ALL the GREAT relationships minus the Passion part as just "companionate". Something feels missing.

Why can we not call that excitement when you get to know someone and you just click? Instant chemistry, and you know that this person is going to be a great friend to you. Sometimes you can get infatuated with your new friend.

Friend or best friend are also good terms, but they don't encapusulate the specialness - some people have lots of best friends. (Or so they say.) Sometimes, there is a sense of exclusivity - resulting in jealousy when a third party comes along.

I wish there is a term to describe a relationship where two individuals care for each other greatly, can understand and accept each other with all the differences and irritating bits about each other, so special and valuable that do not want to lose each other, and gain greatest pleasure in each other's company above everything else.

I think it is possible to have this without sexual or physical attraction, can even have other friends or sexual relationships elsewhere. But this is THE most significant relationship that transcends everything else.

When people see some of these traits, we tend to think of them romantic. Even when we do not expect them to have relationships like lovers do. Because we see chemistry, bond, trust and everything that we desire. Maybe, the same brain areas that process very romantic things respond in a similar way.

I see this in Holmes and Watson (original), Sherlock and John (BBC Sherlock), House and Wilson (House, MD), Myron Bolitar and Win (Harlan Coben's Myron Bolitar series), and recently, Murderbot and ART. (That used to include Aziraphale and Crowley while their passion bit was subtext)

I don't imagine them in sexual or other physically intimate relationships, but the special bond between each of these pairs feels romantic. Because they are so special.

I need a simple word. Not a word meaning "not-something"...

[blubberquark]

Worse than Trolls: Engagement Optimisers, Tourists, Socialisers, and Enablers

As I previously explained, most online content moderation falls under I-know-it-when-I-see-it. There is very little else to say. People know spam when they see it, and I don't need to define what spam is. Spammers know they are spamming, and are unable and thankfully unwilling to argue your moderation decisions.

On the other end of the spectrum, there are ever so slightly corrosive behaviours than can destabilise an online community in the long term, often without the perpetrators knowing it, or at least without bad faith, without ill intent.

Engagement Optimisers

Users naturally optimise engagement by responding to feedback. When posting memes and cat pictures is rewarded, users post more cat pictures. When posting memes is rewarded, users post more memes.

If your users start to do this on purpose, you might have a problem. For example, somebody might notice that clickbait titles lead to more click-through in forum threads. The people who give their threads vague and mysterious titles get more replies. The people who add a call to action to their OP get more replies: Please share your opinions in the comments below. The people who ask broad, open-ended and opinion-based questions are more likely to get more replies: What programming language should I learn?

If somebody says something contentious or inflammatory by accident, that's fine. You morally can't fault them for sincerely held beliefs or misconceptions, or for soliciting a broader base of opinion. Only when done on purpose, and systematically, it becomes dangerous.

You may end up with a situation where power users learn to play the game and play it better and better, at least better than most users. This can give the people who learned to game the system outsized influence, even when there is no algorithm or karma or no way to spend the karma, because they gain more mindshare and notoriety.

You may also experience a systemic change, because many or most users catch on, and start modifying their behaviour and post different content in order to get noticed.

Still there is the possibility that your users, through group dynamics nobody is consciously exploiting, reward and promote mostly cat pictures and stupid puns, even though no individual user comes to your forum for stupid puns and cat pictures.

Early on in the history of Reddit, this was recognised as a major problem. You could farm upvotes by posting something like "DAE eat chocolate ice cream?", "Upvote if you're going to vote for Ron Paul", or "Linux sucks! There are no good text editors!"

Reddit tried to curb this, somewhat unsuccessfully at first, then more successfully, but in the long run, they lost the battle against their own user base and entropy itself.

Compare this with YouTube, where a call to action is not just allowed, but encouraged by YouTube itself. It's regularly part of the latest set of official tips for creators to grow their audiences. YouTubers thus say "What are your opinions on this topic? Let me know in the comments below!" or "Please like and subscribe".

Tourists

Tourists come in to make drive-by comments in flame war threads. Tourists google a question, find your forum, post a single question, and leave forever when they get the right answer. Tourists come in from Reddit. Tourists don't play the game. Tourists don't read the forum. Tourists don't read the FAQ.

You can't really punish people for coming to your site or channel and making their first comment. I mean, you can, but then they will definitely not come back.

Churn is bad. Tourists are churn personified. If most content comes from tourists, then your community culture is defined by tourists. You lose the ability to shape the culture of your site. It's easy to deter tourists, but it's hard to do so without also deterring people who would otherwise have become proper contributors or community members.

If somebody joins your web site, doesn't read the rules, doesn't read the FAQ, creates more work for the moderators, and is a minor annoyance to the established users without ever rising to the level of a serious rule violation, it's easy for that person to say "We all have to start somewhere" or "You'll never attract new people if you keep enforcing the rules like that."

If you have rules about cross-posting or proper spelling and punctuation, you have to be firm. You cannot retreat every time somebody who hasn't read the rules asks "Why are you so mean to me?"

On the other hand, I remember multiple times when I hopped in an IRC to ask a question like "Is this a known bug? Should I wait for the next release?" or "Does anybody want to collaborate on a game jam next month? Is anybody considering joining Ludum Dare?" only to be told "We don't accept bug reports in here. Bug reports need to be entered into bugzilla in the proper format." or "Please post job postings in the jobs channel only!"

Socialisers

Socialisers talk about off-topic stuff only. They hang out in the off-topic board or channel, and they tell everybody about their youngest child, their morning commute, or the story of how they met their spouse. Socialisers rarely engage with the actual main topic of the community, but everybody knows them, because they post a lot of off-topic content.

As long as socialisers know that the forum is about, and know their stuff, it's fine. The guy whose youngest son just got into middle school and who met his wife when they both reached for the last bottle of herbal shampoo at the supermarket isn't really disrupting your anime forum as long as he watches anime. If he could comment about the different animation studios that worked on Sailor Moon, but chooses not to, he's fine. The problem with socialisers only becomes noticeable when they attract socialisers who do not know or care anything about the on-topic content. If that happens, your forum is no longer a forum where some Haskell programmers post their lunch, it's a forum to post pictures of your lunch.

Enablers

Enablers are one step worse than socialisers. They don't just don't contribute on-topic content, they make the discussion actively worse. If you have a rule such as "do no post a maths homework question" or "do not answer personal questions" or "do not ask other people to answer your question in a DM", the enabler will happily comply anyway. "It's no skin off my back" he says, as he answers the homework question. "It's no skin off my back" he says, as he paraphrases the FAQ again. The enabler will make a good-faith effort to answer bad-faith questions, and he will enable people who just can't be bothered to read the FAQ and follow the rules.

Now there may be multiple reasons why you're not allowed to answer personal questions, ranging from OPSEC about pet names and the colour of your car to professionalism, and depending on those, this may be a big deal or not. When it comes to homework or answering in a DM, the reasoning should be straightforward.

The worst kind of enabling is probably taking abuse in stride, and continuing the conversation. If somebody starts insulting the other people in the conversation, the least you could do is disengage. If somebody calls people names because they can't solve his problem, you should not enable him and try to help him, too.

The most subtle kind of enabling behaviour is a response to Cunningham-style trolling. When somebody posts "Linux sucks, there are no good text editors", then the last thing you should do is reward this kind of behaviour. When somebody posts "I can't solve this in Python, I guess C++ is just a better language. I think I should go back and use C++", then you should say "Good riddance, and may the gods have mercy on the C++ forum."

The most common kind of enabling is when people ask a question and can't be bothered to Google it first, and somebody copies the question into Google it and pastes the answer. The long-term consequence of such behaviour is not only a degraded quality of the conversation, but a forum culture where people regularly Google answers (or worse, ask ChatGPT) and paste the result without checking.

Maybe in the future, something like "I asked ChatGPT this, is this true" or "Copilot wrote this code, can you help debug it" will become more common, and humouring these kinds of people will become the most common toxic enabling behaviour.

Drama Magnets/Troll Feeders

Finally, there is a kind of person who enables trolls and harassers by being thin-skinned, very easy to make fun of, and by boosting every insult. There is a certain kind of person who will just endlessly complain about being wronged in small ways, and will take offence to small perceived slights. This allows a malicious actor to get out much more in terms of reactions than he puts in. If a troll can poke somebody once, and get dozens of "Ow ow" and "he poked me" and "woe is me, I have been poked" out of a target, that will only motivate him.

If somebody freely volunteers his weak spots, things he is self-conscious about, ways to rile him up in the form of a profile, carrd, or bio, then trolls will have it even easier.

So What?

Over time, too many enablers, tourists, or drama magnets may or may not ruin your online community. Over time, engagement optimisers can slowly but steadily ruin your community. Socialisers may not notice or care either way.

A code of conduct may protect your community against bad actors, but it can't protect your forum culture from clueless actors. It's incredibly hard to create a good set of punitive rules against this. As a moderator, it's emotionally difficult to enforce rules against this. You don't want to kick people while they are down, and you don't want to punish them for making popular content, even if it's just pictures of kittens and pictures of their lunch.

The only way you can achieve anything is by educating your users, and hoping they give a damn about forum culture.

[draw-the-squad-like-this]

How to submit a prompt!

I got a few questions from different people about how submissions worked, so I figured I'd make a post about it! TL;DR is in blue

Click here to go straight to submissions! Or use the Submit a Post button at the top of the blog! (Tumblr article on how to submit posts)

Note: Submissions do not notify the submitter when they have been posted. I always tag submissions with the URL of whoever submitted them so you can search my blog to find your submission later. But if you want some other notification e.g. if you want to be notified or have your name IN the body of the post, feel free to add "submitted by @ Username" to the bottom of the post! I don't mind.

Rules and recommendations:

Don't submit AI Art! Just don't.

Please use the new post format when submitting, not the old one. If you don't know what I'm talking about, refer to this staff post. If you're submitting from a mobile device anyways don't worry about it. (If you're curious as to why I ask this: the old legacy editor posts required tags to be entered in individually, but with the new web editor you can copy/paste a bunch of tags in one go - this makes tagging posts a lot easier and faster 😅)

Don't submit text-only prompts with no people/characters pictured! A text conversation or message board convo between people without at least profile pictures next to the messages has no place to insert a character as an art prompt!

Don't Submit a post with the Ask button. Submissions are for prompts, Asks are for questions and comments!

Don't include multiple pictures in one submission (unless it's a comic-type prompt with multiple panels) Y'all know I have a rigorous tagging system, and it's easier to tag/categorize one prompt per post. If you have a whole bunch of prompts, just submit them individually one at a time. Don't worry about flooding my inbox, I promise it's fine.

Don't submit a drawing made by somebody else! Unless you know their username and have express permission to repost their art with credit, I won't repost a drawing made by somebody else. This doesn't generally apply to things like public domain art, super old paintings (like European Renaissance-era), and screenshots of animations and movies (Unless it's an indie animation in which case I want to provide a link to it! In this house we love and support indie projects!!)

You are welcome to @ me in a post you think would make a good prompt! This is a valid way to submit a prompt! ESPECIALLY if you draw a prompt yourself!! Same as submission rules, I just ask that you tag me on posts consisting of 1 individual prompt and not just a big mass of like 10+ different prompts posted by one person. For the sake of easier blog navigability, I don't wanna rb posts that are 5 kilometers long.

If the prompt is from a show/movie or something, feel free to add the source if you know it! It's just nice to have in case anyone is curious.

[autism-stims]

If it's okay, I was wondering if maybe you could share the solutions part for the different emotions? It's fine if you don't want to! I just rlly like that idea

-@cryptid-aac

hello !! yes i can definitely share :) i will put it under a read-more as the post will be very long listing them all. i screenshotted them from the web version not my ipad, the boards remain the same. because there are so many images i had to put some together so the formatting is a bit weird but they're all there ! thank you for your ask !!

the images go from the main board which shows all the feelings, then each solutions board in the order they appear. the app is SymboTalk and you can link tiles to other board so when you click/tap the tile it takes you to the board. i did this to link each tile to the related solution. some pictures at the end are grouped together because of image limit in posts.

unfortunately i do not have the cognition to do image descriptions for this many individual images, but i would be very grateful if there was someone who could, or i might go through and do them a couple at a time. as a rough outline, each board has a number of labelled symbols that represent a solution to a feeling.

images are under the read-more !

[blorbologist]

Trick or treat! Veth!! 💛

Treat! Had this in mind for a few days - though it's mostly Veth/Yeza modern AU fluff <3

--

“Honey?” 

“Yeah?!” Veth hollers, bagging the sandwich and fruit slices and maybe a couple chocolates and neatly crimpling the bag shut. Sure, their apartment is right above his shop, so he could just make himself something in the kitchen… but she likes giving him a hand-packed lunch. It’s the little things. Especially today, when he has a meeting with those pharmaceutical bigshots. Her heart swells with pride - her Yeza, her smart man. 

Yeza rounds the corner, still in his nightshirt, with one of the button-downs she hasn’t seen in a while thrown over his arm. “I - oh, thank you -” Even years later, he loses his train of thought when he sees her sometimes. Just has to pause and plant a kiss to her temple. She’s the luckiest woman in the fucking world for every moment she can make this genius speechless. 

Still. There was something like worry in his tone, and he can’t be worried now of all times. She won’t let that be. “What is it, Yeza?”

“Oh! Yes.” He presents the shirt to her, pointing out a missing button, the threads sticking out like splinters or shards of bone. (Veth has to blink that away.) “Do you know if we have any spares? I know these things usually come with one or two, but I didn’t want to mess up your collection. Or steal from it.”

“Stealing’s fine.” Veth dismisses it with a wave of her hand. “Besides! You wouldn’t find it there anyways.”

Yeza blinks. “Oh.” And then, “Oh. Why?”

How, he asks, because he’s her husband and he knows her. He knows that she has thousands of buttons - big ones, little ones, rare antiques, modern takes, the whole shabang. She’s taken them from blouses and pants, labcoats and purses, craft sections and trash cans, even well-dressed fucking teddies. Thoudands - a pretty fucking great collection, and one she’s proud of.

He knows, and he knows she’d never pass up on a button. Not even the most bland and boring and beat-up ones. (Those were a little too much like a little girl forgotten in the back of every family picture, and she treasures those most. Well. Almost most.)

Point is. Veth? Not having a button she had easy access to in her collection? Definitely cause to ask why.

So Veth pulls out her necklaces. 

It’s all buttons, of course. And she’s pretty sure Yeza is vaguely familiar with the mess of them, if not the individual dimes and moons and eyes of color.

She points to one - kinda squished behind two big flat ones - and pries it into the light with her nails. And then she pulls the necklace over her head, the familiar clatter some sort of protest.

“I kept it here,” she says, already fiddling around for her knife - well, some people would call it a dagger. “Not to be weird or anything. Just - all the ones from your shirts. Or Luc’s. They’re just spares, right? And I figure, if I have them on me, part of you is with me. Always.”

That always hangs between them, heavy. The buttons move in her hands. Click-clack. She gets to finding the right thread to cut the one Yeza needs loose. “Anyways! It’s silly. And means that if you need them, I have them here. Here:”

There it is. She angles her knife to cut the beige button loose. The needle and thread should be in - which drawer was it -

Yeza’s hand is on hers. Gentle, but firmly easing the blade’s edge away from the button.

“Always,” he echoes. Clears his throat. “Actually - you keep it. I’m sure there’s another fancy shirt I could wear.”

“Are you sure?” Veth asks, oddly shrill. Not sure why. “Sure? Because - Luc didn’t do the laundry last, night, and -”

He squeezes her hand, runs a thumb over her knuckles. His eyes are creased so perfectly, shiny (the best, crisp black buttons) behind his glasses.

“I’m sure, honey.”

Yeza eases the necklace back over Veth’s head, smoothing the buttons among their kin on her chest. And then he’s rushing off for another shirt, yelping when Veth slaps him on the ass as he scrambles past.

🎃Trick or Treat! Send me an ask and you'll get a trick (angst) or treat (fluff) ficlet in return! 🎃

[practically-an-x-man]

🌵🥤🌻🍬🏜️🪲🌸🧩

Thank you!!!

Writer Truth or Dare Asks

🌵 ⇢ share the link to a playlist you love

Here's one of mine that I like a lot, it's all songs that are really catchy and fun until you start paying attention to the lyrics

🥤 ⇢ recommend an author or fanfic you love

Answered here!

🌻 ⇢ tag someone you appreciate but don't talk to on a regular basis

See above

🍬 ⇢ post an unpopular opinion about a popular fandom character

Tony Stark funding Spider-Man was a mistake. Tom Holland plays the character himself pretty well, but Spidey loses a lot of heart and soul when you give him all that tech and funding. He's meant to be a neighborhood hero, a poor kid who helps his community, and giving him the same tech and teaming him up with the rest of the Avengers just kind of... homogenizes them all?

🏜️ ⇢ what's your favourite type of comment to receive on your work?

I LOVE analytical-style comments, where people point out lines or details they noticed. I never know how many of the details or references I include actually get noticed, so I love when people point out things they like!

🪲 ⇢ add 50 words to your current wip and share the paragraph here

It's a little more than 50, but it's from your prompt so I might as well share...

“You need to get some sleep, doll. You’re still healing.” “I’ll be fine. I’ve gone years without sleep, you know.” Eris shot back, shifting uncomfortably in his seat without ever letting his eyes leave the door. Rick’s eyes followed, and realization dawned on his face as he connected the dots.  “I shot them, you know.” he said, “They’re dead. All of them. They’re not coming back here.” Eris didn’t look convinced. Rick offered her a shadow of a smile, a glimmer of humor that didn’t quite reach his eyes.  “What, you can't possibly be scared of a few ghosts, right?” “It's not the ghosts I'm scared of.” Eris muttered, “It’s the backup. They had an… an operation. Those won’t be the only men on the job.”

🌸 ⇢ do you have any pets? if you do, post some pictures of them

I do have pets! I have an African pygmy hedgehog named Loki, and two dogs (one's a whippet/Jack Russell(?) mutt, one's a larger mixed hound). I don't usually post personal pictures on my blog itself, but I'm happy to share a couple pics individually if you DM me

🧩 ⇢ what will make you click away from a fanfiction immediately?

Answered here

[this-is-a-podcast-fanblog]

janet lubelle short fic

fuck you *re-butches your Lubelle*

~

Five reps and four rests, that’s the optimal quantity for peak muscle performance. A drink of water placed at the exact point where rehydration becomes key, while not distracting from the ongoing workout. She slings a towel over one shoulder and pushes back her medium hair with the other; sweat-slick and shiny from released molecules. “Anything for me?”

“This gym is coming together so nicely,” Blake says from the doorway. “You should let me use it sometime.” 

“Blake,” Janet coos. She wipes her face on her shirt and reaches for the equipment wipes. “When I ask you a question, it’s because I want an answer to it, mm-kay? See, what is a question if not an answer waiting to happen? That is the reason why I asked it, and I do not appreciate you trying to derail it, however nicely you might say... whatever it is you have to say instead of answering my question.” 

Blake blinks at her. “Okay. I have a report on those so-called angels.” 

“Excellent. Any initial findings?” 

“Um, they all call themselves Erika. Initial hypothesis is some form of religious ritual. Swearing off individuality, and all of that. Which may be why they call themselves angels, as well.” He clicks a pen and proffers it, but Janet ignores him as she fishes one of of her labcoat, folded neatly on a chair in the corner. “We wanted to run some tests on the radiation levels over there, but the machine is acting up again.

“I’ll fix it.” She adds that to her notes. Their campus is so close to the “angelic” residence that if there were any radiation, one of them would certainly have noticed by now. “Wrap this up quickly, please. I’d like to change before the meeting.”

“Oh, right. The radio host.” Blake extracts a sheet of paper from his stack and passes it to her. “So today I learned they have a kid. Esteban David Palmer-Scientist. Five years old. There’s a rumor around town that he can see the future. His teachers have him in some special course.”

Given that she listens to the radio, the existence of Esteban is not a surprise. It’s the information that comes afterwards that causes Janet to raise her medium-width eyebrows. “Really? What does Carlos think about that?”

“I have no idea.”

Under her breath, Janet curses this sabbatical. That she would ever let such a bright mind out of her sight; that she had allowed Carlos to tarnish his brilliance and descend into the softness and insanity of Night Vale. It was grad school all over again, where he’d always forget to do his half of the group projects as he got distracted on something else of his own. She drums her fingers on her clipboard.

“Tell you what,” she says finally. “I’ll shower later and take another look at the machine right now. In the meantime, can you go get me a nitro cold brew and a few more of those rumors. For as much as the Night Valeans distrust you, they might let some things slip if you play nice and don’t talk too much.” 

“They don’t have nitro cold brew here. There isn’t a Starbucks.”

“There isn’t a Starbucks?” She chuckles to herself and digs in the pockets of her cargo shorts. “This town really is strange. Fine, whatever iced coffee you can find, with oh, maybe 250 mg of caffeine? Uh huh, that sounds nice. Here you go. Bye bye now.”

Blake takes the cash. “One of these day’s you’ll say thank you,” he quips, before leaving. Janet shrugs on her labcoat and takes a seat on one of the elliptical machines, glancing over the paperwork in her hands. The photo of Esteban, along with the report about this ridiculous “future-seeing”, goes into her manila envelope, the one she’s barely let out of her sight. Her file on Cecil Palmer is growing thicker by the day. Maybe soon, she can start crafting some theories. 

“Everything needs an explanation,” she says, and she pulls out the snapshot at the bottom of the file. Confused brown eyes stare back at her from a picture, ten years younger and a thousand times more logical. Janet feels her own eyes narrow at the sight. “Don’t you agree, Carlos?”

[phantomvenus]

Table Lamps - Lighting Can Make All The Difference

Lights have since long been used to create a desired effect in homes and restaurants. With lighting having the power to bring out the beauty and also negate click here the weak points, it has been extensively used by interior decorators to bring out the best.

With people being more experimental when it comes to interior decoration, the table lamps have come to be very popular with home makers and interior decorators.

Table lamps placed at the right places in any room can transform the room and give it a complete makeover with very little effort. The diffused lighting that the table lamps provide can highlight any particular item or area that you wish to, thus, creating a cozy beautiful area for you to relax and enjoy with family and friends.

Table lamps are not only being used in the living area but also in the dining room, study room and in the kids room. They are beautiful additions to your décor and are also utilitarian. The number of table lamps that you would use in a particular room and where you would place them would depend greatly on the size of the room and the desired effect. Large rooms would do better with a floor lamp to compliment the table lamps.

If there is a particular artifact or painting that you would like to highlight then the light used should be one that brings out the best in the item. With various kinds of lamps easily available you would be able to find one that suits your particular décor. Decorating your home and using the right lighting to do so would surely bring your way loads of compliments.

Before actually buying the table lamp you need to decide on the décor of your home. There are a few things that you need to keep in mind while buying table lamps. The size of the room would be one of the most important factors to consider while buying table lamps. The material or the finish is one you can choose depending on the décor of the particular room. With wooden table lamps, metallic and many other materials you have a huge variety to choose from.

The lamp shade would be yet another area that needs careful selection and attention to detail. With everything available readily, lamp shades are one that you could either buy off the shelf or have tailor made to your individual needs. The shade chosen must match the size of the lamp. The fabric of the shade and its color is one that you must carefully choose to match the décor.

The décor and the effect that you wish to create would again dictate the choice of the type of lamp. A simple lamp or one that is more ornate and elaborate with fine detailing would depend on the décor of the home.

Online shopping has made it very simple and easy to buy all that you need. Table lamps too are available in a number of online stores making it easy for you to make your purchase. This not only saves on time but also offers you the opportunity of buying a table lamp from any part of the world. You can create just the look that you wish to with the whole world being your shopping place. The online shopping sites provide pictures and all details about the product making it quick and easy. You can order online, pay and have it delivered to your doorstep in just a few days.

[jaw-writes]

I Accepted a Job to Film on the Dark Web Pt 1

Man, I am pumped to tell you chronically online content addicts my story. Wait is that too mean of an intro? Will this get taken down for harassment since I painted too accurate a picture of the people on this site? Sorry, everyone, I’m sure you all smell like an expensive bakery and have touched grass this morning. Anyway, I promise I have something interesting. It even involves the dark web you uncreative writers cream yourselves over! I mean, totally real people speaking about their strangely similar experiences. Okay, fine I’ll stop bullying you through the screen before you click off. 

This all started when I was seven years old and my parents were killed in front of me in an anti-indigenous hate crime, but let's be real you don’t care. I’m just some annoying Cherokee kid with dead parents so I’ll skip to the good parts. I spent years in an orphanage, gradually becoming more interested in death and violence. As bad as it is, I went out of my way to expose myself to that content in the hopes of desensitizing myself. Which ended up working too well, since now I’m obsessed with causing and viewing pain, though I don’t find any joy in hurting myself.

I got adopted at twelve and after a few months of staying at my new family’s home on the reservation, I went with them to a state sweatier than the average Reddit user, California. Long story short, both of my caretakers, whom I referred to as Uncle and Auntie because they could never be my parents, died. Leaving me in the care of their older son, who I call cousin. I’m not stupid enough to give up any real names, so I’ll call him Brick, cause he’s as dumb as one. He was in his early 20s when he was tasked with taking care of me and is the world’s worst excuse for a babysitter.

I’m almost always alone at the apartment, with him only coming by to drop off supplies and stay for a few hours so the neighbors don’t get too worried. Unless I get in trouble at school, then he’d suddenly give a shit. It's useful because he doesn't about the gory stuff I look at, but some display of interest would be nice. Oh well, ninety percent of the population sucks so he’s just part of the majority. Now, with that said, you’ll be able to understand the perfect storm that led me here. During my time on the deep web, I found a particular website that caught my eye. They had new footage relatively consistently and they were the easiest for me to access since I didn't go too far into the dark web, especially with all the honey pots lying around. 

I even bought a couple of files for myself to study and admire. One thing irritated me though, the cameraman. He was always sobbing, breathing, shaking, or some combination of those. It seriously killed the vibe of the killings. Something I commented on under many videos, often saying I would do a better job filming. A choice that in hindsight was me asking to end up in one of those recordings. I didn't think anything of it at the time. I was mostly the only one who commented but I was sure they wouldn't care. I was embarrassingly wrong. 

I was staying up like usual, but it was past one AM on a school night, and back then that was a lot so I tried to sleep. Closing my eyes, tossing and turning, the works. I had just started drifting off when I heard the front door open. I remained calm but immediately found it weird since Brick never showed up this late. The thuds of the individual's feet grew louder as they got closer to my bedroom. I tried to convince myself it wasn't a stranger, especially since they got in with ease, but I knew that was wishful thinking.

They hummed as they opened my door. My dumbass had left it unlocked. I remained on my side, trying to look like I was asleep. They turned on the flashlight of their phone, shining it in my face. It was hard but I stayed still while they traced it over my features. I could tell they were smiling as they clicked their tongue.

“Heh, I knew it was a brat,” they whispered to themselves, pulling tangles out of my hair. Something I struggled not to groan from. They pulled up the hair over my ear and got so close spit got on my ear lobe. 

“I know you’re awake kid,” they murmured, putting a blade to my neck. I let them grab my shoulder and move me onto my back, I knew how to fight but I wasn't about to take that big a risk with the position they had me in.

“You think you’re so cool saying you can do better than our guy.” they snickered, kneeling, their flashlight still shining in my face. 

“Do you seriously believe that?” they questioned, moving the light away. 

“Yeah, I do.” I stood my ground, they might have been intimidating but I wasn't gonna let that stop me from being honest. 

“I wouldn't sound like I’m gonna piss myself every time it gets gory. I’m confident I could get better footage too, getting up close is something I’ve fantasized about.” 

They clicked their tongue again and ran their finger over the bridge of my nose.

”Well, I know you’re a big fan of what we do, and you’re confidence makes me think you got something to back those claims up, so how’d you like a deal?” 

I was surprised by how civil they were being aside from the touching and weapon against my throat.

“What kind of deal?” I asked, for all I knew this guy wanted me to lick their feet or some weird shit like that. They placed a finger underneath my eye, tracing a half moon with their nail. 

“You have till this Friday to film a video of you killing an animal and put it on a flash drive that I’ll pick up here. If it impresses me and the crew we’ll hire ya with a handsome salary.” They began, moving their hand down to my cheek. 

“But if you don't show, or it doesn't meet our standards, then I’m fucking up one of the parts of your face.” They warned, pinching my skin harshly. 

“And if I say no to this deal?” 

They put their hand over my mouth, scratching my lips. 

“That’s cute, if you say no I’ll just slit your throat.” they grinned. 

“Or rip it open with my teeth if you got a preference,” they smirked, before running their tongue across their sharp teeth. 

“Okay, since I have no choice I’ll go with it, but I’m telling you now I can give you something way better than what you likely expect of me.” I prefaced, looking into their sunken eyes. They scratched my scalp, including the side of my head that was shaved.

“Good choice, I’ll be back to pick it up and if you're not here I’ll assume you don’t have the video. I genuinely wish you luck, because you’ll need it.” they removed the blade from my neck and walked away. I sat still for a few minutes in the dark, processing what had happened and wondering how they got into my apartment with such ease. I was confident I could blow their sniveling excuse of a cameraman out of the water, but I was worried about the people I was getting caught up with.

Sure, I had been on a lot of gore sites over the years but I was always just watching and occasionally commenting. Compared to most in the scene I wasn't much of a threat. I could defend myself and have contemplated killing for years but I hadn't murdered anyone or worse. Plus, I am part of way too many targeted groups to not be constantly at risk. Teenage, fem-leaning, two-spirit, indigenous kid with trauma? Yeah, I might as well be walking sign screaming “Hate crime me”. 

So yeah, there was a lot to worry about. Regardless, I couldn't let that fear hold me back. I had a job to do and a group of sickos to appease. The next morning was rough, I got no sleep cause I’d spent all night brainstorming. I barely mustered the energy to change and drank straight mouthwash instead of brushing my teeth. Slogging onto the bus with drool on my cheek, I went to the back like usual. No one sat there cause, the seats were extra worn down, and I scared off anyone who attempted to with my active, rabies-infected bitch face. That day was different though.

I blanked on his name and where I knew him from, but I recognized his wavy hair and prominent curved nose. He glanced at each seat on the bus, before somehow settling on my area. He tried to give me space but ultimately seated himself beside me after realizing it was the only spot that didn't look like it would give him cancer. I glared at him as I did with everyone, but it didn't phase him. 

“You know you could pick anywhere else right?” I murmured. He stared at the floor, then at me. 

“I’m aware, but a few months ago I started a mission to sit on every part of this bus, and this is the last place.” he smiled, his lips softly curving at the sides.

“What’s the point of that?” 

His mouth moved into a more neutral position, but his eyes kept smiling.

“I just thought it would be neat to see the same place from a bunch of different perspectives.” he took out his phone and snapped a photo from the point of view where he was sitting. Maybe my sleepiness made my bitch face less effective, cause he hadn't shown a hint of fear, which kind of annoyed me. 

“That’s cool I guess, but I wouldn't do that if I were you. I’ve done some back here alone that would make your skin crawl.” in hindsight my attempt at unnerving him just made me sound like a pervert, which is probably why he held back laughter. Trying to hide a chuckle by clearing his throat.

“Hey, it's not my business what you do, no matter how Haram it is. It’s your life so that’s between you and whatever you believe in. Just don’t shake hands with me.” he joked, playfully putting his hands up. Strangely, I remembered his name at that moment. 

“Oh shit, you’re Abdul! We have art together.” I sat up, haphazardly slamming my hand down on my leg.

“Uh yeah, I’ve seen some of your paintings, they’re pretty cool. I like the way you texture them, I’m trying to work on that.” he complimented, seeming more weirded out by my sudden energy than my accidental insinuation. I felt a little stupid for yelling his name but decided not to dwell on it. 

“Thanks, you’re stuff is nice, and you’re good at shading.” 

He stretched his arms while thanking me. We talked for a few more minutes, taking jabs at each other throughout. Turns out he was better at being an asshole than his artsy charismatic appearance made me think. The thing setting our insults apart 

being that you could tell he was a loving person underneath. It was the nicest conversation I had with anyone in a while. Though he could tell I was tired so he quieted down, letting me sleep, waking me when we got to school. We went our separate ways until the last two periods we shared. All that time, I spent my remaining energy plotting how I was going to handle the video. What I’d kill, record with, and how to dispose of the evidence. It was a lot to consider, but through three classes I devised a plan.

I’d find a stray around my apartment complex and take it out in my room. Record it on a portable camera since I broke the ones on my phone, no, I will not be answering how that happened. Then once I had my footage I’d put the body in a trash bag, throw it in the complex’s garbage, and clean the blood off my floor. It didn't seem like Brick would come by so he wasn't a factor I thought I’d have to consider. The plan was almost too easy, but I decided to believe in Occam’s razor. I got so lost in thought that by the time I reached Art, which was my second-to-last period, I didn't process that we were moving seats. 

“She called your name,” Abdul reminded me. Our teacher placed us next to each other at our four-person table. The two girls sitting with us were already friends, so I didn't bother to say anything, but I was interested in talking to him more.  

“So, what do you think of this assignment?” 

He shrugged, taking out his sketchbook. 

“I’m not that good at drawing people, but the idea of combining two people’s faces into a portrait seems interesting. Any ideas on who you’ll pick?” 

“Probably the members of the music duo Brain Tumor, they’re my favorite artists and they both look weird as hell.”

“Wow way to talk about your favorites, if that’s what you say about them I can‘t imagine what you have to say about me.” he joked, pulling up reference pictures. 

“First, it’s not an insult, second I don’t have anything to say about you. Brain and Tumor have features and styles that make them stand out. Sure they’re ugly, but it just adds to their visual charm. Hot people are boring, there’s nothing to pick at.” I explained, unzipping my bag.

“Oh, so you’re saying you think I’m hot.” 

His comment wasn’t serious but it kind of got to me. 

“Shit, that’s not what I meant, I was trying to say you’re boring. All hot people are boring, but not all boring people are hot, okay?” I explained, flipping to a clean page.

“Alright, but if I’m so bland then why talk to me?” 

I hesitated, contemplating how much of a dick I was gonna be. 

“Because it means you probably need some spice in your life, which I can provide.” 

He began sketching a head on his paper.

“I like spices, but I feel like you’re the kind of person to dump a cabinet’s worth onto me.”

I flicked my pencil over to his side of the desk, putting on a mocking grin. 

“Aww, you scared I’m gonna get you into trouble?” 

He picked up the pencil and started using it, putting his on my side.

“No, ‘cause I’m good at setting boundaries. I’m more concerned that you’ll get annoyed with how unafraid of you I am.” 

I stared at him for a moment, I hadn't expected to hear that.

“Jeez, man you didn't have to read me like that.” 

He shrugged, observing the red paint from past projects that lay on my pencil. 

“It's not hard to figure out, just this morning you were trying to push me away on the bus. Lucky, or unlucky, for you I want you to have a friend and you seem like a fun person.”

“Wait are you saying I have no friends?” I squinted at him.

“Well, do you?” 

I didn't answer. 

“If your response is silence I suggest you take up my offer.” 

I was stunned, to be honest. No one had offered to be my friend since 6th grade, and that didn't last long. Of course, I accepted it, but for the rest of the period, there was an awkwardness in my mind. As pathetic as it sounds I wasn't used to others genuinely enjoying my company like he did. Which was partly by design cause I get joy out of scaring people away, but still. I forgot how it felt to have conversations about normal things like art. He had such a nice smile too, usually when I see a grin I want to slap it off, but I liked his. His voice was also nice, it’s hard to describe what in particular but it was easy on the ears. 

Okay, I’m starting to get off-topic. I’ll skip to the important part. Toward the end of class, he started talking about how he was interested in filmmaking and got a portable video camera as a gift at last year’s Eid. He didn't have it on him, but he showed me a picture.

“Heh, that’s funny, I bought the same one a month ago.” I pointed out.

“Yeah, it's a popular model, I’m still getting the hang of it though cause I’m so used to using my phone.” 

“Well, maybe I could bring you over to my place or vice versa after school and I can help you out.” I suggested.

He smiled, putting his phone back in his pocket.

“I thought you said you’ve only had it for a month? You know I can always look up tutorials from trained professionals.” he reminded me with a notable smugness that I'd used with him before. 

“Well those guys are stuffy and I’m a fast learner.” 

He redirected his attention back to his page, picking his pencil up. 

“Alright, I suggest we go somewhere public instead. You’re not exactly the kind of person I want to bring home to my parents right away. Plus they always need to meet my friends and their guardians before I hang out at their home.” 

I gave an exaggerated sigh, stretching my back.

“Aw man, looks like we can’t get high in my murder pit during our first hangout.”

He didn't respond for a solid few seconds. 

“Wait, you do know I'm joking right?” 

He shrugged, the smile in his eyes appearing again.

“I mean, one of those things is a little less believable than the other.” he snickered, and I laughed with him. 

We set up a time and a date, which is where I screwed myself. He ended up being busy with projects from his other classes and family which just left us with Friday, the same day I had to submit the video. Now, did I tell him I wouldn't be able to make it? No, of course not, because I decided to be stupid and even more overconfident. I said that I’d one hundred percent be able to hang out with him after school like I didn't have a mutilator who was going to drop by my place at an unknown time.

The rest of the day went over fine but that bad timing led me to feel like a dick later. When I got home I was able to write out my plan, even sketching a few specifics of what I’d do. It was more exciting than when I’d been brainstorming, but this is when the gravity of the situation began to set in. When I said I’d fantasized about killings I meant it. I mean my teddy with twenty-five stab wounds should say enough. Regardless this would be the first time real blood was on my hands.

It made me feel powerful, but a little afraid. I’ve heard stories of people thinking that it would be an awesome experience and then feeling like shit. I doubted I’d be one of those people but still. Plus, I didn't exactly trust the guy who gave me this job. There was a good chance that this whole situation was rigged and they’d kill me no matter how good the video was. Or worse turn me into the feds and expose my collection. Honestly,  if that happened I’d probably eat a shot to avoid going to jail. Wait, can I say that on this platform? Okay to the mods, that was a joke, I want to live a long life. Ugh, I’m doing a terrible job of staying on track. The point is there was a lot up in the air despite it being a matter of life or death.

I knew I’d go through with it but it was still a lot less straightforward than it initially seemed. I wracked my brain to remember where most of the cats stayed and tried to come up with a good way to lure one without raising suspicion. This also proved harder than first thought because I didn't think to account for the cat man, an old guy who lived alone and fed all the cats in our dingy complex while also housing a few. Knowing how obsessive he was he’d probably notice if one of them disappeared. Then again not all the cats return consistently or at all. It makes more sense that he’d think one of them was run over rather than slaughtered. It was getting late again so I rested my head for a moment, a bad move cause I ended up falling asleep at my desk. Not even changing out of the clothes I’d worn before, I woke up late and barely caught the bus the next morning. 

I went to my usual spot but Abdul had already taken it. He patted the area next to it, which he’d covered in a towel, a smart move knowing how nasty it was. People gave me a few dirty looks as normal, which I smiled at. I stretched, my mind slightly less out of it than the previous morning. 

“Uh, you do realize that-”

“Yeah, I know I’m wearing the same clothes.” 

Abdul looked me up and down, his eyes remaining soft, but with a mix of concern and judgment. He set his backpack down and took off his sweater handing it to me.

“Dude what are you-”

“Look I don't know what led to you not being able to change but I think you should at least have a fresh top.”

I was surprised he was offering me something to wear but I took it. 

“Uh, thanks, I’ll change into it later.” 

He nodded as I put it in my backpack.

“You know you didn't have to do that.”

I reminded him.

“Well there’s a lot of stuff I don’t have to do, but I do it because I want to, and I wanted to help you out.” 

He smiled, his face still warmer than an Arizona summer. I got a strange feeling in my chest at that moment, I still can’t tell if it was good or bad.

“Well, thanks, I'll give it back to you tomorrow.” 

We talked a little more and he mentioned something that caught my attention.

“Have you heard about all the animals that have been turning up dead?”

My eyes widened with surprise.

“No, I haven't, when did you hear about that?”

He pulled on his long-sleeve shirt.

“My sister said her friend who works at a shelter noticed a bunch of animals were getting adopted by people around the same time, and since then gore videos with them have been showing up. She found out through her co-worker who was emailed it by some random creep.”

I covered my mouth and looked away to hide the smile growing on my face. He had just given me the perfect cover-up without knowing. Now if I killed an animal people had an entire violent ring to connect it to instead of me! I stayed quiet for a minute because I could tell he’d likely see through any phony sad sounds I made.

“Oh wow, that’s awful, do you think they’ll ever find out the people behind it?”

He sighed, running his hand through his wavy hair.

“I hope so, for now, all we can do is pray that no more animals get hurt.” 

I couldn't contain my grin as he said that so sincerely like animals and people didn't die constantly and that taking down one group would somehow stop the issue. 

“Is there some joke I don’t get?” he furrowed his brow.

“Uh, no, sorry I smile when nervous.” 

His gaze softened again, and he didn't press further.

His bringing up the animal killings ended up being the exact push I needed to get my hands dirty. I’d spent the entire day before planning so it was time to put that plan into action. I stole some cat treats that the cat man had laid out and spread them around my apartment which was on the bottom floor. Waiting for one of them to take the bate outside my window was pretty boring but one of them came after a few minutes. A scraggly brown and black cat with a tuft of fur missing on one side of his head. It's messed up but I felt like a little less of an asshole for taking him in since he looked like he was already struggling. I scooped him up and he didn't attempt to fight back. 

“Hey there buddy” I waved, feeding him some more food. His eyes had a lot of crust on them, it was kinda gross but I don’t have the right to say with how often I wash my jeans. After a minute or two he let me pet him. I knew making any kind of attachment was bad but I thought it was the right thing to do so he’d fall into a sense of security. I was just about to take him into my room when the door opened.

“Hey, I’m back with groceries!” my shithead cousin announced with two plastic bags in his hands. He looked down to see me with the cat, his eyebrows raising.

“Aw come on, you know we can’t afford a pet.”

He groaned placing the bags on a table and unloading them.

“I know, but he doesn't look like he’s got a lot of life in him I at least want to help him feel better before he kicks the bucket!”

Brick rolled his eyes, putting the cereal box on top of the fridge

“Jeez, did you even think about what diseases he might have? His eyes look puffy what if he has something that can get you sick?”

He had valid concerns which was surprising since he’s usually stupid, but I was still annoyed with him.

“I’m sure he’s fine, I’ll even try to wash him, just please let me hold onto him for a little.”

He folded his arms looking down at us.

“Have you even named him?”

I froze for a second, before using the first thing that came to mind, which ended up being pretty awful knowing my plans.

“Cash cow.” I blurted, awkwardly patting his head.

“Honestly that’s better than what I was expecting. I was sure you’d pick ‘Hellspawn Mcgee’ or something else corny.”

He meant to make fun of me but honestly, I would have named him that if I had more time.

“Ugh, anyway I got those dumb chips you like.” 

He then pulled out a bag of the wrong chips.

“Dude those are the wrong ones, this is the third time you’ve mixed up the flavors.”

He threw them at me, scaring the cat slightly.

“Well, I pay for it so you shouldn't be so picky. Anyway, while I was in line I picked up something you might be into.” 

He then tossed me a trashy teen magazine. One of my least favorite sorry excuses for an influencer on the cover.

“This is a joke, right?” 

I couldn't believe my own adopted brother gave such little shit in my interests.

“I don't know, you decided to start being a girl for real this time so I thought the makeup tips on page ten would help you out.” 

I scrunched my face at his comment.

“Dude I’ve been this way for years, just because I started wearing more makeup and dresses doesn't mean I’m more of a girl than when I didn't. I know you won’t get the two-spirit thing but come on.”

He shrugged, seeing me done with me even though he’d just shown up.

“Yeah well hey I’m trying. Anyway, just so you know a friend of mine is coming here Friday.” 

My heart stopped.

“Wait why here? You live elsewhere why can’t you assholes go there or their place!”

He slammed his fist on the table.

“Will you shut the fuck up!” 

He screamed with a phrase I’d grown numb to.

“I don't know, to be honest, something about wanting to move into this complex and this being a way to scout it out. I’m just letting you know now so you don’t act like a complete freak.” 

“Jokes on you I’ll piss in whatever shitty beer you bring just cause you said that!” 

I yelled back raising my voice higher than his. He face-palmed before putting the plastic bags in the drawer under the sink. 

“Whatever, you and your ketamine-addict-looking cat have fun,” he told me while seating himself on the couch. I picked up the cat and walked into the bathroom to clean it. I closed the door and placed him in the dry tub. Using a small disposable mouthwash cup I got a little bit of water. I hadn't had a pet before so I wasn't sure how to approach the task. I dipped my fingers in the water and carefully pet it while pouring s small bit down his back. Any other cat would fight back but he just made pissed-off noises without doing anything.

I scrapped my old shampoo bottle and kneaded it into his thin fur. His skin was bumpy and dry beneath the hair so scrubbing it was uncomfortable. I made sure to avoid getting soap in its eyes but I did pull away some of the crust on its lids. His pupils were so clouded I was surprised that he could see at all, making me feel even more sure that he would be on its way out with or without me. 

After drying him I set him on a beat-up shirt I wore when modifying clothes. He sunk his claws into it a few times, playing with a loose string. I ignored him for the rest of the night, hopping into the shower and changing for bed. His meows woke me up a few times but I tuned it out after a while, reminding myself that he wouldn’t be my cat for long. 

The next day was Thursday and there wasn't a second that passed by where the weight of the murder I’d have to commit didn't weigh on me. I seriously shot myself in the foot by taking care of that scruffy, pubic hair pile. I was supposed to be hyped about killing it, after all, I’d dreamed and seen way worse than what I was going to do. Yet once I got home and started setting up I felt grosser with each step. I decided to record it in my bathroom instead of my bedroom so it would be harder to connect to me. I set down a few fabric scraps and a worn-out beach towel, placing it all inside a tub for easier cleanup later. 

“Okay, I guess it's time,” I mumbled to myself. I brought the cat in and placed it down, setting up my camera once it was comfortable. I also wore my most generic clothes in addition to a mask, putting my hair in a bun for sanitation. When I saw the flicker of red showing that the camera was on I felt I was dreaming. I smiled, excited that I’d get to live out my violent desires. Yet, when I looked down at its pathetic frame and confused expression those urges left me. 

I rationalized what I was doing, reminding myself how many animals die all the time and that I’d been forced into this, but it didn't help much in the end. I won’t get into it but under the pressure of impressing the group Cash Cow didn't go out as fast as I would have liked for a first task. Getting rid of the evidence was especially rough, the textures were pretty nasty, to put it mildly. It was surreal watching the blood go down the tub drain and gradually drip off my hands as I rinsed them. I couldn't conjure a single thought the entire time I cleaned it up. 

Whether I was wringing out the clothes or putting the remains in plastic bags, it didn't matter. All I could focus on was the task at hand, with hints of disgust along the way. I ended up finishing at three AM. My hands were wrinkled and shook once I settled. I won’t deny that during the murder I didn't hate it. Slashing into something was fun and it made me feel strong. Still, it wasn't nearly as fulfilling as I expected it to be. Part of it was guilt, but it was mostly disappointment. I’d built it up for years and it wasn't earth shatteringly good or bad.

Overall, I expected to feel more, but it just left me hollow with an uncomfortable itch. There was no way I’d ever be able to see the tub the same way, hell I don’t think I’ll ever use it again. Luckily I almost always shower anyway so it's not too big of a deal. I watched a few horror game videos, trashed everything, changed and went to bed. 

My scalp hurt like a bitch the morning since I kept my hair in that stupid bun. Despite getting less sleep than the past two days I held myself together a bit better in the morning. I brushed my teeth, changed, and had some fried bread before getting on the bus. Regardless I looked like complete shit and struggled to slump into my seat. 

“Rough night?” Abdul asked

“Uh, yeah.” I quietly responded looking to the floor.

He frowned, looking at me with concern.

“You can talk about it if you're comfortable,” he assured me. I contemplated giving him a thinly veiled metaphor or vague explanation so he'd comfort me but stopped myself before my mouth could run a muck. He wouldn't be able to do much of anything and I don’t like opening up. 

“Uhm, thanks but it's something I have to deal with alone.”

He nodded, respecting my boundaries.

“You know, I understand if you can’t hang out today it seems like you have a lot going on.” 

I avoided eye contact with him as he spoke. For once I was feeling hints of guilt toward a person. I wanted to spend time with him, but I knew that I wasn't in the state to do that. 

“Yeah, I think it’ll have to wait, I’m-” I cut myself off before apologizing. A fact about me that should surprise no one is that I hate apologizing. Even when I do feel kinda bad the act fills me with embarrassment.

“You what?” he asked, his eyes telling me that he knew what I was going to say.

“I’m emotionally not great.” I spat out in an admittedly poor attempt to get out of saying sorry. As always he remained calm but I could tell he saw through me.

“Okay, like I said I understand, whatever it is I hope you feel better.” 

I told him thank you and we didn't speak for the rest of the day. At home I changed into more comfortable clothes and brushed my teeth. Unfortunately, I wasn't bouncing back from killing nearly as much as I expected.

“It wasn't even that bad! That thing was on its last legs anyway.” I grumbled to myself, smacking my forehead. I was feeling worse than when I did it which is weird. I ended up spontaneously decorating a ratty tie from the bottom of an accessory drawer to distract myself. It helped me get my mind off things, for a little. I had zero plan, just wanting to make something needlessly complex. Hours that felt like minutes passed and soon it was covered in patches, frills, and beads. I just tried it on when I heard the front door open. 

“Man, that shit was wild!” I heard Brick laugh groggily. I didn't have to see or smell him to know he’d gotten lit. I rolled my eyes, closing my bedroom door. 

“Hey, who’s there?” his friend asked, seemingly referring to me.

“Oh, that’s my little sis, don’t mind her she’s just on her emo shit!” he joked, which pissed me off for the petty reason that I didn't even listen or dress emo. 

“Hey, that’s alright with me, I went through one of those phases,” they responded, their words less slurred than my cousin’s.

I fucked up and forgot to lock it when I closed it so they were able to swing it open, almost smacking my desk.

“Hey emo girl!” they waved as Brick haphazardly pulled them back.

“Okay, man, seriously I think she wants to be left alone.” 

The way his friend looked at me made me uncomfortable. Like they’d snap my neck if I pissed them off. They clicked their tongue while stepping through the door frame.

“Alright, but I gotta say calling her an emo is inaccurate, they look like they watch gore and most emos just say they do.” they flashed a sharp toothy grin. At that moment I began to connect the dots. 

“Easy, she’ll get pissy with you dude, now come on.” Brick warned tugging their opened button pushed him away. They looked me dead in the eyes.

“I don’t think she minds, in truth, I feel like we’ll have a lot to discuss later.” they smiled again, finally walking back into the living room. A chill ran up my spine when I saw them. The sharp teeth, New York accent, unsettling gaze, that motherfucker was the person who recruited me! They were able to get into my place so easily cause my dumbass cousin probably gave them a spare key or the opportunity to make one, and now they were a room away from me!

I dug my hands into my pillow as I contemplated what to do, no matter what happened next, I knew it was gonna be a rough visit.

[komainucalamity]

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[whitherwordswither]

Dead Ringing, Pt. 5

Outside the facility I dialed the bureau, reaching out to Akeno. Reception transferred and he picked up halfway through the first ring. "Warrick. Any leads?" Straight to the point as usual.

I huffed, shaking my head as if he could see it. "Yeah, possibly. I ah… I think this one is going to get a bit… complex. Mars is on her way back with a couple of samples. Make sure those get to forensics a-sap. You're also going to want to send a clean up crew. One body to collect."

"A body?" Akeno shuffled at his desk. "Hopefully not a body that could have provided us some answers?" I chuckled. Dry. Humorless.

"No, luckily. I guess. Ehhh~ One of the samples Mars is bringing in… this… device, whatever it is. It was attached to a cadaver's neck. I'm not sure how the hell it did what it did, but… the fucking corpse was mobile. Some kind of reanimator… or something. The thing was mentally unstable, it tore the chip off itself. I don't think this is going to be cut and dry."

Akeno was silent for a few moments, then sighed. "Well, shit. Alright. I guess you're good to go then. Lock it up and I'll get a crew on the way." After a beat, he asked. "And Mars? How was she?"

"Good eyes. Pleasant to work with. Better sense of humor than you. She'll do just fine." I smirked at the scoff on the other end of the line.

"Alright. Thanks, Warrick. I'll keep in touch. Keno out." The line clicked off and I tapped a claw over my pad's screen, bringing back up the security terminal for the facility. I enabled a lockdown override, tucked the pad in to a pocket and headed back toward the transit station, my thoughts churning over what had happened.

I didn't have the entire picture yet. Someone needed a whole lot of bodies. But for what? How did the chip that reanimated the corpse actually work? We were surprisingly lucky to have encountered a seemingly forgotten straggler. More than likely they were on a time table and couldn't afford to calibrate that individual unit as they made off with the rest. The erratic behavior would have been awful to deal with. According to storage records, sixty pods were brought out of stasis. That meant there were fifty-nine unaccounted for. Were they aware? Could they recall anything of their prior lives? I stopped halfway to the transit platform, staring straight ahead. Wait. Was I forgetting something? I furrowed my brow, whiskers wiggling. Shit. Yes, yes I was. We had checked inside. But we hadn't checked outside. Preoccupied. Foolish.

I turned and headed back toward cold storage.

Fifty-nine bodies didn't just walk out. Security had been disabled. Above ground camera footage was nonexistent for the time period. I wandered the perimeter of the building, making my way around back. Who ever had removed the bodies had been utilizing the maintenance halls. They connected to all levels of the facility. The easiest way in and out with that route would be the loading bays. Docks. Equipment and supplies didn't just get shuffled on in through the front door.

There was nothing out of the ordinary along the first few bay doors. The final one at the opposite end from where I'd started, however, bore some interesting differences. The first and glaringly obvious were the fresh tracks in the dirt road between segments of cracked pavement. Heavy tread. Large truck. The door itself was as pristine as the others. The keypad at its right was what caught my attention. The plating was ever so slightly skewed. I hated it when things didn't line up just right. They stood out to me. This was no different. I poked my claws around the edge of the pad, applying just enough pressure on either side. It popped loose, exposing wires and circuitry. For such a pristine facility and relatively high tech structure, it shouldn't have given so easily. It had been tampered with.

After replacing the panel I pulled out my data pad and shot jotted down a few notes as I followed the road up from the bays, following the short run of tracks in the dirt before coming to a stop again, staring down the road. It ran the perimeter of the dome before curving back in to the city ruins. I sent the update to Akeno. It really didn't give us any extra super important information, but I could at least pat myself on the back and not feel like I half assed my assignment. With a sigh, I headed for the transit station. Again.

The cleanup crew was just arriving as I rounded the building. A sentient avalanche separated from the vehicle, a tree trunk section splitting from itself, waving like an appendage. "Eeey, lookit who is! They still throwing scraps your ways, eh, mutt?" It turned out not to be a physical manifestation of the Swiss Alps wearing dark navy coveralls, but a large white furred bear. Polar variety. My lips curve with a smile and I strode over to clasp his hefty, warm paw in my own.

"Mori, you behemoth! Still slinging mops?"

"Hah! Only when newbies losing their lunch. Get to play seer over the parade now. Is nice. Pays more better." He hadn't let go of my hand and pulled me close, muzzles almost touching as he leaned down. His body was big enough to block the exchange from view of the rest of the crew. "Missing your company, wolf. Free for drinking soon, yeah?"

His snout brushed against mine and I leaned in to it, giving a little laugh as he kissed my cheek. "Yeah, that might be nice Mori… things've been in a bit of a slump lately and…"

The bear cut me off. "All more reason to be joining! Old Mori will help the troubles with washing away." Mori squeezed my hand tighter, nuzzling against my ear a bit before pulling back, clapping me hard enough on the shoulder to almost knock me off balance. A call from the vehicle had him looking over and grunting a command. When he turned back to me, he was all smiles again. "Favor yourself. Call your friend Mori soon, yes? Or he may just have to bring the drinking to you, mutt." He pressed his paw to the side of my face, a soft warmth lighting up his stoic features, thumb tracing the contour of my cheek. His eyes lingered on mine for a few moments before his paw dropped to my shoulder, giving it another squeeze before he turned and lumbered off toward the vehicle, waving an arm as he looked back with a grin. "Catch you."

"Y-yeah, heh. Catch ya." I huffed, rubbing my cheek, feeling a little flushed. With a chuckle and a shake of my head I waved and continued on. I was suddenly feeling very tired and glad the night would soon be over.

The small knot in my gut told me this was going to be one of those nights…