#carpet grass installation

[gacarpetartificialgrass]

GA Carpet & Artificial Grass Singapor

At GA Carpet & Artificial Grass Singapore, we are your trusted specialists in the supply and installation of high-quality grass solutions, including carpet grass and artificial grass for homes and outdoor spaces across Singapore. Our extensive range features natural options like cow grass and pearl grass, as well as synthetic grass alternatives such as fake grass carpet and premium artificial turf.

Whether you're looking for a lush outdoor grass carpet, durable artificial carpet grass, or stylish artificial grass for balcony spaces, we have the perfect solution to meet your needs. Our expert maintenance services ensure that both carpet grass and synthetic grass remain vibrant and well-maintained all year round.

We also offer cost effective carpet and artificial grass installation Singapore - providing competitive price options to suit any budget. Whether you need reliable carpet grass installation for natural lawns or the best artificial grass for hassle-free maintenance, our team delivers tailored solutions for every space. Contact us today via WhatsApp at +65 8241 0032 to transform your space!

1090 Lower Delta Road #04-06H, Singapore 169201

Phone # +65 3174 0715

Hours 9am to 9pm, Monday to Sunday

Business E-mail enquiry@gacarpetartificialgrass.com

[kestrelteens]

                                          🌱 Mossy Drive 32 🌱

A sweet Anon asked me if I’d upload this lot and here it is 🦔

It didn’t turn out quite perfect but I think it’s good enough to share! I hope you guys will enjoy it and have fun with your simmies.

It is heavily inspired (a recreation, if you will) by this lot from ts4.

I did not include any CC since I guess it’s the safest that way (not sure?) but there’s very little of it to download and it’s all under the cut, as well as the floor plan pics!  🌞

Please use the Clean Installer for this lot! ✨

download (sfs) // alt download (mediafire)

Floor plan:

CC needed for this lot to show up properly:

1. this door

2. this plant, this tree, this fern, this plant, these plants, flower bucket, tree from here, these bushes, lavender, wild grass, this tree;

3. well & clutter from here

4. table from here

5. chair from here

6. trellis & ivy trellis

7. this wall planter, these potted plants;

8. this build set & this build set

9. these simple spiral stairs

10. chimney

11. this carpet & rug from here

12. outdoor lantern

13. marks the spot fence

14. both siding walls from here & icad wood colors siding here

15. parasol from here

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Here’s a 1964 mid-century modern home in Palm Springs, California. It has 3 bd. 4 ba. is listed for $3.8M and it’s pink! The interior is very unusual and colorful, too.

In the foyer is a portrait of the lady of the house. They can take that with them.

It has a very open concept with several mirrored walls and a big marble fireplace. Area rugs soften the stone floors.

The house is very long and the dining area is at the far end. The photos are confusing b/c of all the mirrored walls.

The outdated kitchen cabinets were painted black with a gray trim and the appliances were updated. The brick was painted gloss black and a marble counter and backsplash were added. I don’t know what kind of ceiling that is, but it looks like it’s been installed up there in pieces.

The everyday dining area off the kitchen has a very large wall-length china cabinet and at first I thought it had an opening, but I think it’s a mirror. There’s a nice view from the windows and I like the striped curtains.

The main bd. is very large.

The en suite bathroom features a gold slipper tub with a view of the pool.

A home office is off the bd. and has a wall of closets.

It also has a walk-in closet/dressing room with a makeup table.

The makeup area is in a private nook.

Looks like another bd. Love the pink carpet and view of the garden.

This room has a small en suite.

This is a shower room with peacock wallpaper and leopard curtains. Interesting. 

Has a beautiful pool, but there isn’t anywhere to escape the sun unless you sit on the porch.

Something was in the middle of the patio. Maybe it’s for a table w/an umbrella. The garden is basically cacti and desert plants.

This grass has to be fake in the desert. If you enlarge the photo you can see the seam on the right.

The porch is lovely at night.

And, the garden looks nice all lit up.

The pool and house all lit up. I don’t know, I just don’t care much for a desert setting. 

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/1090-W-Cielo-Dr-Palm-Springs-CA-92262/18022850_zpid/

[mercurygray]

Current WIP as of approximately two weeks ago is my house, so:

✅ plumber fixed sink, water lines ✅new appliances installed ✅finish spackling and sanding living room and bedroom ✅wash down walls after sanding ✅tape and paint bedroom, living room ceilings ✅tape and paint bedroom, living room walls ✅ install new mailbox ❌ fix lawnmower ✅ mow grass by borrowing neighbor's mower ✅ ask neighbor to trim tree overhanging driveway ✅ re-install newly covered shelves in closet

➡️ re-label new mailbox ➡️finish spackling and sanding 2nd closet interiors ➡️paint 2nd closet interiors and dining room ➡️ hang coat rod ➡️move remaining furniture ➡️get apartment professionally cleaned and turn in keys ��� buy new lawnmower ➡️remove carpet ➡️get quotes for next 2 major projects ➡️relax. :))))))

[writerofweird]

The Doors

The below story is a sequel to my earlier story confessionsofcaine.doc. It is 4,305 words long and also includes death, violence, enbyphobia, murder and suicide. It also includes characters originally created by Gooseworx, Glitch Productions and The East Patch, which the author does not own and has written this story as a tribute to the creators and their works. Please support the original creators.

Out of respect for Gooseworx and her plans for The Amazing Digital Circus and its story, this is set in an alternate continuity. The first two episodes and bits and pieces from her Tumblr and the previews are still a part of it. There are spoilers for the episodes here; in fact, the first sentence is a spoiler for Episode 2 so the whole story is under a read more link.

‘WASN’T IT ENOUGH YOU KILLED GUMMIGOO YOU BASTARD?’

I hate going through this door.

It’s a setting I’ve seen many times, a scene that’s splattered onto my memory. A short woman in a business suit screaming at a computer. Another, taller woman in a business suit resting motionless over a chair, almost looking like she has no skeleton.

‘Laura, please,’ came a voice from the computer screen, ‘if I kept him, this would’ve been harder!’

‘Laura, come on, let’s go!’

There’s another figure at the scene, attempting to pry the short woman away from the screen.

I’ve seen that person’s face before. Every time I enter this room, the moving humans have their backs turned to me, but I’ve seen the taller one’s face. I’ve seen it up close, looking over me like a bird over its chicks. Their face dominated my entire field of view, so I got a close look at their bulging eyes as they beheld me, and even though, unlike the scene with the computer, I’ve only seen that giant face once, I still clearly remember the cries of ‘No!’

How long have I been here? I think as I slam the door behind me, again in the middle of a room with crimson carpets and dull wood panelling. It feels like I’ve been here for decades, and at the same time, it feels like I’ve been here for hours.

What else is there to do but open doors?

One might be the way home, I tell myself, but then I wonder if I find home, will I recognise it?

My mind has created various images of what I might call home, but none of them ring a bell. I thought that my home would be an apartment with bottles and wrappers all over the floor and streetlights glowing from behind blinds, but that isn’t a very familiar picture. I certainly didn’t live in a cottage with a flower garden and a picket fence, and as much as I would like it to be true, I never lived in a mansion, well, one safer than the one I was trapped in.

I lightly hit my forehead to help me focus, and right as I do so, a vase leaps off the table. Funny. Just thinking about flowers.

Whatever plant was kept there – I’m no herbotologist or whatever those are called – is transformed into a mass of writhing worms, and the pattern changes to a scowling face. Without even thinking, I pull a crowbar from my pocket and in seconds, the foe is reduced to shards, the worms squirming their way within the floor.

None of the other furniture moved.

What else is there to do but open doors?

I pulled another one open, and again found myself involuntarily squinting as sunlight burst through. That setting is rare, and one I always make sure to savour.

When I first stepped through a door into this land, I told myself it was home, and if I walked enough through the tall grass and the bright forests, memories would come flooding back. Nothing I recalled as “home” could be found there, but I need a break from the constant barrage of nearly-sepia hallways, so I run into this land whenever I find it. I’m almost tempted to frolic through the fields.

Every time I come here, I mistake the first figure I see as a statue, an installation by someone attempting to make a statement. A metallic figure with a triangular, horned head, its body and limbs a mish-mash of various shapes. Their left arm looks like spaghetti. Their right leg looks like a rifle.

The figure stands beside a thick path framed by twisted trees, its yellow bricks making it stand out amongst the green. As I walk down this path, I am joined by two other figures: a giant chess piece with eyeballs, tattered robes and a large straw hat, and a pale young woman in a blue dress. Every time I come here, they don’t seem to notice me. They always notice the metallic being.

‘Look, Pomni!’ cries the chess piece, lifting a gloved hand towards the being, ‘It’s a wotsit! You always need one of those!’

Pomni picks up a nearby oil can and splatters it over the figure, allowing them to stretch their limbs; yes, they’re made of metal but stretch like elastic.

‘Oh, thank fuck’ sighs the being in a voice I know too well, ‘Hey, how’s it going, I’m Zooble.’

‘Do you want a heart?’ Pomni asks Zooble.

‘What? Are you kidding me?’ barks Zooble, their fists – or what count as fists – tightened. ‘That’s the last thing I want!’

‘Good!’ comes another voice, ‘You don’t need one working for me!’

I twirl around to see that blonde woman who was lying limp on the chair, except this time she’s wearing a tall black hat and matching robe, a broom in her right hand.

I’ve seen that woman many times on my adventures. I remember opening a door and letting loose a stench that made my nostrils sting. It was the woman, wearing the business suit she wore in the office, bright red wriggly lines around her form, along with flies. I even heard a foghorn in the distance as I beheld her.

I take out my crowbar again and swipe it at her direction. It felt like I hit something – it feels more like I hit a pillow rather than flesh, but it has no effect on her. In fact, after she lets loose a maniacal cackle, I always end up back in the hallway, as if the door just spit me out.

There was one time I stepped through and the chess piece, Pomni and Zooble were joined by another figure – one wearing a lion costume and a white tragedy mask.

There was one time I saw all four of them in a room where the walls were made of gleaming green emeralds, ones that made me flinch as much as the sun did. They all stood before a giant bubble, one almost as large as that face that cried ‘No!’. The bubble barked at them words I cannot remember, but what I do remember was who was controlling the bubble: a short humanoid figure in top hat and tails that matched the walls, his head a pair of comedy dentures with two eyeballs sitting atop his frog tongue.

As I pick another door, I see that tooth-faced man and the bubble again, the man now dressed as a circus ringmaster and the bubble much smaller. Zooble is there too, only made of plastic and not tin. The three of them sit in what I can only describe as a colossal playroom, building blocks of many colours lining the walls and framing a stage, gigantic wind-up cars and jack-in-the-boxes providing decoration.

‘So, Zooble,’ says the ringmaster, throwing his right fist to the left as if trying to hit an invisible fly, ‘as you chose to opt out of the Candy Canyon Kingdom adventure, Bubble and I will be providing entertainment until your friends return!’

‘They’re not my friends…’ sighed Zooble, right before the ringmaster conjured up another building-block wall in front of them, two windows built into the blocks. The ringmaster opens one window, crying, ‘Hey, Bubble, what do you get if you cross a rooster with a goldfish?’

The second window opens, revealing Bubble. ‘I don’t know, Caine, what do you get if you cross a rooster with a goldfish?’

‘A rooster who drowns,’ replies Caine in a more sombre voice, his arms flopping over the sides of the window.

‘Very amusing,’ replies Zooble, ‘anyway, I would like to do some drawing…’

‘Capital idea, Zooble!’ cries Caine, regaining his usual jovial attitude as he springs into the air. With another swerve of his fist, the walls and windows vanish and in Zooble’s hands – a balloon-like glove and a claw – materialise pencils and sheets of paper. ‘You could draw Bubble, really get his good side!’

‘No thank you,’ groans Zooble, looking at the paper, ‘I’d rather just draw things around the Circus, if that’s okay.’

‘Of course!’ cries Caine as Zooble walks through the halls.

More halls. More doors.

Every time I find myself in these halls, I try to open the doors. The doors with the cute cartoon faces on them, looking like logos for a children’s animated series. When I first came here, I gave them all my own little names before learning of their real ones. Bertie the Blue Bunny was actually called Jax. Smiley the Clown was actually Kaufmo.

Zooble leaned on the door that bore Kaufmo’s face – Kaufmo’s face crossed out with lines as red as the woman’s stink marks - drawing his face. As they do so, Caine slithers beside them, reminding me of the worms from the vase.

‘Go away, I need quiet.’

‘What you need, my friend, is support. You’re doing a great job! Go at it! Keep up the good work!’

‘Thanks but no thanks.’

‘Okay!’ cries Caine, and yet he stands beside them as they finish their drawing, and then turn towards the door bearing the masked woman. Gangle, formerly known to me as Masky.

The door – the one that brought me to this multicoloured wonderland – pulls me out and back into the hall. I open the same door to find myself back there, only for more figures to enter.

From a portal steps a bipedal alligator, a yellow, glue-like substance where there should have been scales. I’m certain I could see my reflection in his form.

As soon as he enters, he makes his grand exit, exploding in a flurry of party favours to the horror of a nearby jester.

I would hit Caine with my crowbar if it did any good.

Even though they aren’t present, I hear Zooble’s voice in my head.

She wanted us to suffer. If he didn’t kill Gummigoo, she would’ve.

‘I know you guys love your NPCs,’ Caine explains, bending and stretching ‘but if I start losing track of who’s a human and who’s an NPC, who knows…what could happen…’ His body went limp again.

He was a good liar, I’ll give him that.

The jester, Pomni in her usual outfit, can only chuckle.

Caine vanishes, not like Gummigoo had done but rather to some little personal corner or somewhere of that nature, and I hear Zooble again, this time for real. ‘Sheesh. I thought he’d never leave.’

Zooble shows their friends – the masked ribbon, the chess piece, the jester, the ragdoll (the rabbit doesn’t seem to be their friend) – the drawing of the clown, framed and standing on a table.

It’s a funeral.

When I’m not in one of these colourful places, I explore a haunted house, almost every piece of furniture possessed by malevolent ghosts. Occasionally, I’ve stopped to think what could have happened in their lives to make the ghosts as malevolent as they are. Did they have funerals? Did their friends have any kind words to say about them? If so, did any of them know what their deceased loved ones were currently doing?

As I watch Zooble say their piece about Kaufmo, the scene changes to a haunted house not unlike the one I had been exploring. Zooble, now wearing a different set of limbs including a plastic daisy for a leg and a fish fin for an arm, walks alongside the clown.

‘An Exit Door appeared when you first did,’ Kaufmo explains, gesturing to nothing with his enlarged hand, ‘and if you had managed to run through it in time, you would be back in your body. If Adams is observing us to make our copies more accurate, then she must place headsets on them often, and then another Exit Door will appear, and if we find one and run through it, we will enter…’

‘The more anyone speaks, the more nonsensical it sounds,’ Zooble groans, ‘I’ve only been here a day and I know we’re never getting out of here.’

‘We can’t lose hope…’

‘Just shut up and keep looking.’

As I watch Zooble say their piece about Kaufmo, the scene changes to a haunted house not unlike the one I had been exploring. Zooble, now wearing a different set of limbs including a plastic daisy for a leg and a fish fin for an arm, walked alongside the clown.

‘An Exit Door appeared when you first did,’ Kaufmo explains, gesturing to nothing with his enlarged hand, ‘and if you had managed to run through it in time, you would be back in your body. If Adams is observing us to make our copies more accurate, then she must place headsets on them often, and then another Exit Door will appear, and if we find one and run through it, we will enter a body wearing the helmet.’

Zooble places their hand on Kaufmo’s shoulder.

In seconds, I again find myself in a sunny setting, with me involuntarily squinting before revealing the blonde woman and Caine, tied up on a grey road. Zooble approachs them, riding a steamroller.

I return to the scene of the funeral. As I do, so does Caine, his eyeballs turned to the floor as he scratches his arm.

Caine wanted to say something, I know it, but he couldn’t.

‘Pomni,’ he says, ‘I can’t hold it in anymore!’ He grabs the sides of what could be called his face, and I’m certain he’s going to pull his head off his body. ‘I’m sorry I killed your friend! I had to! I can’t keep doing this!’

‘Caine…’ Pomni shivers.

‘I’ve been trying to get you guys out of here! I didn’t want to get attached to the NPCs I created before I destroy this place for good! I…’

‘Traitor!’ comes a woman’s voice from above.

Caine disappears, this time like Gummigoo had.

‘Obviously I’ve been too easy on you!’

The colourful walls transform into grey stone, stretching towards an inky abyss. Skeletal hands snake through the cracks between each stone, grabbing onto every funeral attendant as they shriek and struggle.

But there’s someone here who didn’t attend the funeral.

Jax, Bertie, the blue rabbit approaches them with a grin, hands behind his back as his form enlarges.

‘Jax will be in charge of your little adventures from now on,’ comes the voice that shook the entire room, ‘I see a little bit of me in him.’

Jax leans to look over his new victims. ‘I’m going to enjoy this.’

It’s a good thing Caine is a good liar. A good performer. Imagine what would happen if he broke character for too long.

In seconds, the funeral resumes, the room springing back to its original colourful form before Pomni approaches Zooble. ‘Zooble,’ Pomni asked, ‘did you get a good look at Gummigoo? Could you…’

Zooble places a hand on Pomni’s shoulder. ‘Sure thing.’

I see a picture of the alligator join the picture of the clown before being catapulted back to the hallway.

Here, I decide to stand still and breathe heavily, allowing my mind to process the rollercoaster I just went through.

It feels like I’ve been here for decades, and at the same time, it feels like I’ve been here for hours. I don’t recognise any of these characters, and yet I’m certain I knew them from somewhere.

It’s a ride I’ve experienced many times before, and a ride I’ve just experienced for the first time. My first thought was that it was the ghosts creating it, but then they would have used my memories, wouldn’t they? None of the people or creatures I’ve seen in these rooms are me and I don’t know if they have anything to do with me.

I have no memory of my childhood. What school I went to or what my favourite toy was I cannot say. When a teddy bear in this haunted hallway springs to life and I reduce it to stuffing, I think of how it’s a perversion of a childhood favourite, but if it was a favourite of my childhood, I have no recollection of it being so.

A landscape painting flies off the wall towards me, and I duck, allowing its glass to smash against the wall. The frame and the painting lifeless, I take a look at the latter, seeing Pomni and Zooble – Pomni in her blue dress and Zooble in their metallic state - in the sunlit forest, the witch lurking in the background.

The sight of this makes me pick another door.

Again I squint in light, but this is not the sun, but the yellow beam of a streetlight. As the door disappears behind me, I breath in and take in the night air, feeling an iota of hope I might have finally picked the exit door…

Weren’t they talking about exit doors earlier?

I walk and pay attention to the clacking my shoes made across the pavement, looking at the glowing shop windows, the full moon peeking from behind skyscrapers, and the big blue bunny.

No, this isn’t the way home.

Humans are walking the street, humans more detailed than the cartoon characters that populated Caine’s world, but here is Jax, throwing one of those humans to the ground and leaping into their car. With a laugh, he slams his foot on the pedal, not even bothering to close the door behind him, and drives the car in the middle of the pavement. I dive out of the way even though I’m sure he won’t be able to hurt me.

He craved to feel the rush again. I’d feel sorry for him if weren’t a murderous prick.

I don’t remember picking another door, but I have, as I’m in yet another room, a colourless office with several detailed humans, including three familiar ones.

The blonde woman in the grey jacket and skirt, now mobile and not dressed for Halloween. The short-haired person, now wearing an ensemble not unlike the blonde woman, tapping away at a computer.

‘Joanne,’ said the woman, ‘what have you done with your hair?’

I took a closer look at the person at the computer, and saw they clenched their teeth before responding. ‘I feel like it’s more me,’ they reply, ‘and I would prefer it if you would call me Jo.’

‘Why?’ The woman smiles widely. ‘Your hair looked so beautiful and Joanne is a lovely name!’

‘Please don’t call me that,’ Jo continues, ‘Jo feels more me. I mean, I’m 22, I’m still finding myself.’

‘Why would you need to find yourself? You’re right here.’

‘Very funny.’ It was a sarcastic remark they were struggling to phrase sincerely.

‘Please grow out your hair again, Joanne,’ the woman said, ‘it looks much better that way. You look like a boy!’

Nearby is the woman who was screaming about Gummigoo. Laura. Pomni. Now I can see her from the front, and I can see she wears glasses.

As the blonde woman walks away and Laura approaches Jo, Laura whispers, ‘Don’t listen to her. I think it really suits you.’

‘You think so? I was thinking of dying it.’

‘Oh yeah, do that.’

Jo turns around. As they turn around, their face grows, the whole office swallowed up by their skin.

I’m back in the haunted hallway. Behind me are a never-ending set of doors framed by a carpet of blood. In front of me is that giant frightening frightened face.

A door opens.

I pull out my crowbar, steeling myself for another possessed item, but out comes a man, his face nearly hidden by his fedora and trenchcoat. My first thought was that it was someone pretending to be a noir hero, but the more I looked at him, with his five o’clock shadow and necktie, he seemed to have been released from a tattered pulp paperback. This was someone, I could tell just by looking at him, that had lived the noir lifestyle, not someone pretending they had.

He looked over his form. ‘An improvement,’ he states, ‘but not exactly what I’m used to. I’ll manage. Look, Nathan,’ he continues, addressing me, ‘I don’t have a lot of time, so just look at the face there. Look at them.’

‘Oh,’ says Jo, ‘thanks for using my preferred pronouns.’

‘Hey, whatever you’ve heard about us isn’t true,’ he says to the face before turning back to me, ‘Look, buddy, that face up there. You owe your life to that person. You recall old teeth-head and gummygator?’

I could only say, ‘Yeah?’

‘Man of few words. I like that. You’re just like them. Characters created with care, given new life.’ He turned back to the face. ‘It wasn’t Abby or your copy meddling with your game. Well, Caine sending his little life story to you may have been the spark that finally made him what he is. But it’s mostly you. You thought about him like the Adamses thought about Caine and he thought about Gummigoo.’

‘So you’re saying…’

‘No, of course I’m not saying it’s the power of love that made Nathan what he is. My associate might say that, but I won’t. Look, I’m busy, and I’m certain you two are smart enough to figure out what’s going on. I mean, Jo, you’re pretty much the hero of this picture. See ya.’

He steps into the door and leaves as quickly as he entered. For once, I feel no desire to explore. I can only stare at Jo. I can only stare at Zooble.

It feels like I’ve been here for decades, and at the same time, it feels like I’ve been here for hours. I didn’t recognise any of the characters I saw, and yet I’m certain I knew them from somewhere. I didn’t know Jo, and yet I felt I knew them more than they probably knew themselves.

We stare at silence for a few seconds before they pull their face away to lift their hand towards me. It looks like they’re trying to grab me and pull me away from my home, but I know they’re unable to.

I lift my hand and place my tiny palm against their real one. No, we place our palms against the film separating our worlds.

I say what I know is the only right thing to say:

‘I want you to tell me exactly what I am.’

I find out more about who they are. Jo, non-binary AFAB artist, who briefly worked in a tattoo parlour before realising game design was their true calling. They worked at game company C&A, the company behind The Amazing Digital Circus. The Amazing Digital Circus was going to be an immersive virtual reality experience full of fun and adventure.

It was going to be that, but it was transformed into a prison, a way for Ms. Abigail Adams to replace her employee’s minds with…

‘They weren’t like you. They had flesh and blood bodies but…they didn’t think. They just did what she programmed to do. She didn’t put…she didn’t put much thought into them.’

The Amazing Digital Circus, the prison where Jo and others had been kept for so long, had been overseen by Caine, who was secretly working on a way to save everyone. He apparently had some help from an angel, and Jo thought they had found that angel, only for another to talk to them instead: the man in the fedora who had entered the hallway.

Caine had managed to save whoever he could and destroyed the Circus so no-one else would fall victim to it, creating a document which he sent to those he saved before he died. A little piece of him that made me somewhat like him, I suppose.

Jo then explained exactly who I was. Nathan, a man trapped in a haunted house as part of a game they were working on, one based on their experiences being afraid of the dark as a child and even feeling unsafe as an adult. Even when they were trapped in Abigail’s program, they thought of me, the world I created and what more I could experience.

They not only created games, they created artwork and wrote about their experiences in the Amazing Digital Circus before its destruction. They kept that on their computer, and those were the rooms I visited.

I wondered if sending the document to a computer with any game on it would bring the characters in those games to life, but I was mentioned in the document – a side effect of trapping peoples’ minds in a computer was that their memories floated around for Caine to see – so I wondered if Caine wanted me to gain sentience.

No, it wasn’t him. It was Jo. Jo made me and Jo saw me and my world as a labour of love. When they saw me move of my own accord, they thought it was Abby’s interference, but they didn’t delete me. They couldn’t delete me.

Jo pulled themselves away from the computer to show off where said computer was housed. A bed with a duvet cover that looked like a broken window. Various paintings depicting withered, surreal landscapes and hallways like those I constantly travelled through. A magazine cover with Abigail’s head, glued to a dartboard.

‘You know,’ they said, once they returned to their seat, ‘I thought, once I complete this game, I’m going to put it up online for free, make it popular and everyone will forget Adams and the crap she churned out. But she shouldn’t be forgotten. Everyone should know what she did.’

They sent the file out. The file that helped me think and realise.

They sent it out anonymously.

I pointed out that I could be used as proof, but they said, ‘No, you’ve been through enough. I think it’s time I thought of a new adventure for you.’

[nehetari-of-szarekhan]

A Rare Moment of Peace

(More Perturabo x Nehetari fluffy stuff)

Perturabo took in a deep breath. The comforting scent of parchment, ink, freshly cut grass, and warm earth hung heavily in the evening air. His well-used drafting desk was one of his favorite places to be, and as a fresh breeze wafted lazily in through the open balcony window, he paused his sketching to look at the dappled evening sunlight filtering in. Birds were tittering outside, likely at their feeder, and their calls came accompanied by the soft swish-swish of ornamental grasses accenting the front flower bed.

This. This was what real luxury was like.

A slightly more insistent breeze slipped into the room, ruffling the drafting papers strewn about the worn desk surface. A misplaced fountain pen began to roll, and halfway through it's journey the primarch gently caught it, placing it back into its tattered old vase alongside the others.

Adjusting the pen in his left hand, Perturabo turned back to the sheaf of papers in front of him. The construction of the Mirror Palace's new wing was moving along apace, but it needed something to fill the half-courtyard formed where the new addition intersected with the east wing and palace proper. A natural pond sat just outside the area so, rather than waste time destroying a perfectly good water feature, a courtyard garden seemed to make the most sense. The Empress agreed.

The pen made a soft scratching sound as he put it to paper, and the plans for an elegant pavillion began to take shape in the ink.

He could have hardly asked for a more perfect time for this project. Crucius was currently away with Edon and the rest of the veteran Iron Guard. No doubt they were running drills, wrangling the new recruits into line, or getting harried by government officials in the capital right now. Empress Shatterspeare had been trapped in too many meetings to come invent more work for him to do, and the Psykers Guild hadn't had a catastrophe since the Necrons installed the empiric stabilizer. Or if there had been a catastrophe, it was either too insignificant to matter, or it wasn't worth risking the Lanky One's displeasure over.

And speaking of The Lanky One...

...Perturabo settled deeper into the large mahogany chair, lowering his head until his chin rested heavily on a crown of soft white hair.

Nehetari was just the right height for a chin-rest, and if she was just going to sit in his lap and take up space, she should at least make herself useful.

Not that it was difficult to work around her. She'd been there for a couple hours now. She wasn't sleeping, or even meditating (the depth and rate of her breathing told him this). She was just... ...watching him as he worked.

It had become... ...a sort of ritual for them on peaceful days like this. She would just appear, occasionally speak, sometimes offer skinship, but mostly just exist in a space near him. Sometimes he would be sitting in his large leather chair beside the bookcase reading, look up, and find her curled up on his bed asleep. Or scrolling through a dataslate. Or browsing one of his shelves for a new knickknack or gadget to inspect. Occasionally she would even sit down and make use of his easel. Though, despite her many talents, she was all thumbs the moment she picked up a brush or pencil. Conversation was never expected or missed, and Perturabo found himself deeply relishing the sound of soft footsteps approaching on carpet, or the gentle creak of a door being shut carefully as she entered.

Or in this case, it was the soft "thurrr thurrr thurrr" sound emanating from her at that moment. Of the various strange noises that her alien biology made, this was definitely one of his favorites. It always started with a soft "thurruk thuruk thuurruk," like someone was turning the ignition of a crate hauler covered in thick cloth. Eventually, the more staccato sounds would even out into long, low vibrations that would echo in her chest cavity, causing her whole body to vibrate ever so slightly. He learned that this was one of her "happy" noises.

The feel of the vibration against the muscles of his upper body was an utterly fascinating sensation, and the sound sent pleasant, tingling waves across his scalp and down his spine. Just as he started to relax, another swift breeze came barreling in from the open door, and Nehetari silently retreated from the cool air into the shelter of the primarch's body.

"Shall I close the doors?"

It was the first word either of them had spoken in hours, and the sound felt strange in the cozy evening ambience.

"Unecessary." Nehetari shifted, settling into her new position. "The wind is sparse, and the fresh air is pleasing. Are you growing uncomfortable with me sitting like this?"

Perturabo snorted, "Hardly."

She barely weighted anything at all (at least to his standards anyway), nor was she as skeletal she used to be. He'd carried her boney, squirming ass across a three hour trek of minefields, trenches, and halfway up the side of a cliff in the past. THAT was uncomfortable. This was nothing.

He was rewarded for his answer with a swift, affectionate lick from her spade-like tongue. It was warm and rough, like the tongue of one of the empress' large felines. The primarch grumbled half-heartedly and planted his chin atop her head again.

Time passed and the cozy quiet reigned once more. Evening faded into night, and eventually Perturabo did get up and close the balcony doors, but only after he made sure the poor fried goat wouldn't freeze without her post-human internal furnace. The primarch watched her with no small amount of amusement as she waddled towards the washroom in a cocoon of blankets, looking like an even stranger xenos than she already was.

The rest was like clockwork. She would sleep here tonight, just like she always did. Maybe they would wake up together to another calm day. Maybe she would wake up first and drag him out of the house on some fool's errand. Maybe he'd wake up to Crucius hurling shoes and expletives at him, Lanky up and swatting them aside like training projectiles. Hell, maybe they'd wake up to every single Iron Guard librarian storming the house, begging them to come fix some hole the Psyker Guild exploded in reality. Maybe even some strange combination of the four; he'd given up on trying to predict chaos a long time ago.

Perturabo only had a few moments to settle himself before the body-heat snatcher returned, invading the sheets and his personal space. He wrapped his arms around the princess and squeezed, feeling her slowly calm and then slip into that meditative state she called sleep, but was more like a waking dream state. Even as her breathing evened out, the primarch could still feel her consciousness being... ...aware. Still slightly unsettling, but that was part of what helped him sleep soundly - it kept the paranoia at bay.

Satisfied, Perturabo closed his eyes... ...and sank into a warm, dreamless slumber.

[subspaceember]

Things I do not understand about the design of my parents house

Bathroom

The shower head is mounted a foot too low. I'm around 5'10 and my eye level is right where the pipe comes out of the wall. (This is the case for every shower in the house) which means the water starts to hit you around your nipples

The toilet paper holder thing is in between the toilet and the tub and requires an uncomfortable reach, actually hard to use, and so no one does

None of the towel racks are within reach of the tub, there's one on the opposite end of the room and on the opposite side of the toilet

There is a fan - however it just vents into the attic - no actual vent was ever installed - also it's the scariest looking fan ever made, you can put your hand through it. The one downstairs was a complete afterthought, when we moved in there was just a random plug hanging out of the ceiling that went to the fan - which vents into the drop ceiling... of the basement

That's right the bathroom that's in a basement and has no window that can open and also used to have carpet in a house with no HVAC system has NO FUNCTIONAL VENT FAN

There is a window - it's just a regular window that faces the front lawn, so hopefully no one's out there. There's blinds on it, but they're mounted away from the window so you can still absolutely see in if you stand in the right spot

It has an absurd amount of countertop - not really a bad thing, but it's very overkill for a bathroom

The soap tile thing came off the wall and refused to be glued back on - so there's just a big duct tape patch there now

General

The entire downstairs is drop ceiling, yup like an office building.

On top of that the entire downstairs was originally only lit by single bulb fixtures, like for closets, just bare bulbs in a dark, damp basement - except bathrooms which were fluorescent lamps

The basement has a very uncomfortable hallway, it's about 3 feet wider than most hallways and is of course lit by one light bulb

There's a random angled wall here, so one of the rooms has a random angled wall for some reason

The house has TWO water heaters, a more common full size one and a smaller like half sized one. Guess which ones plumbed to the showers - that's right the small one, the big one is only connected to the kitchen sink, washer, and the nasty added on shower in the garage that no one has ever used.

Right - there's technically a third bathroom, it is IN the garage, i mean it's literally added on it's like a box that just juts out into the room. No one has used this bathroom as it is - like i said in the garage and thus smells of dust and mold and also there's no floor.

The floor plan is very odd, there's a BIG room and I mean big on both the first floor and the basement, and lots of tiny rooms, including the one my parents tried to move me too, which is quite frankly too small for a twin bed what you're supposed to do with a room that size I don't know.

There's no water filter of any kind here, not really a big deal, although the water is literally pumped out of the ground so uh sediment is in everything - like, the water filter for drinking has dirt in the top of it

The dust the downstairs of this house has dust like no other dust, the networking stuff is out in the garage where the dust is the worst, and it's killed 2 ethernet switches and a modem, it's this thick brown dust that - even though the house has been cleaned - will never go away

The deck - which is covered in plastic fake grass terf carpet and is nasty - is actually held up by a big iron rod that was clearly added much later than when the house was built, along with a much newer staircase

There's just a big gap in the wall on the side of the carport with a 5 foot drop - no one knows why it's there

Oh yeah also- the carport is on top of the garage - the garage is not accessible for cars, as it's on the basement level, so hearing a car roll ON TOP OF THE ROOM YOU'RE IN is really nerve-wracking

There were no lights of any kind originally installed in the back of the garage, it was literally permanently dark (the part under where the cars park btw

I mentioned the lack of HVAC - the house does has an oil-burning furnace - which smells of oil and makes a loud BANG every time it turns on and off

The stairs

The stairs don't really fit so there's no landing and instead there's a angled stair to rotate into the hall basically right across where the landing should be - I've tripped and nearly died on this a lot.

The stairs have only one light, at the top, which is almost impossible to reach to change bulbs, (you have to put a ladder at the top so you're at risk of falling down the entire stairwell if you fuck up) oh and this means the weird angled step is ALSO in the dark :)

The stairs extend out into the hall which is great for tripping over and dying on the concrete floor.

I'm living in the house of leaves

[jamevaa]

Week 2 - Child/baby Pet acquisition

There was a hen in the bunker dungeon. 

There was a chicken in the bunker, and Sam was looking up how to take care of it. That was not knowledge he ever thought he’d need, yet here he was. He wasn’t sure how appropriate regular chicken care would be for the hen that laid golden eggs, but the lore was otherwise too thin. 

“So how long before it lays an egg?” Dean appeared over Sam’s shoulder. He smelled of dust and old things, a thin layer of day-sweat. He’d been foraging in the storage rooms for anything they could use to take care of the chicken.

Sam shrugged. “The stories say an egg a day, so hopefully tomorrow?”

“I wonder if golden-hen wings taste the same as regular chicken.”

“Dude.”

Dean grinned and nudged Sam’s shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t be the miser.”

Sam watched as Dean left the library, presumably heading to his room or the showers. He’d removed his overshirt sometimes during his dive in storage and his arms were coated with a faint sheen of dust.

Sam considered the article he was reading on enclosures, then closed his laptop to follow after his brother.

—

The hen had not, in fact, laid an egg by the following morning. 

—

Sam again tried finding anything specific on caring for supernatural livestock, but unsurprisingly came up empty handed. On the second, eggless morning, they drove two towns over to get some more specific supplies.

While Sam was picking out the feed, Dean wandered away and came back with squares of fake grass carpets. 

“What?” He put them in the cart decisively. “That room is all cement. The egg could break.”

Sam raised his eyebrows at him, but Dean turned his back and headed for the registers, leaving Sam to follow. 

—

Sam went back to regular chicken information. It turned out that happiness and lack of stress were big factors and it could take quite some time before a new chicken acclimated enough to their new environment to start laying. Unfortunately, the spell couldn't wait months. 

They installed a sun simulating light in the dungeon.

—

About a week later, Dean took the old truck from the garage instead of the Impala and disappeared for a couple hours to run errands. When he came back, the bed was loaded with wood. 

“What's all this?” 

“I got blueprints for a coop.” Dean began lugging the pieces out of the truck. “We don't need a run since she stays inside, but I figure she’ll enjoy perching in it.”

She, not it.

Sam stared at Dean’s back as he pulled out the remaining slats. He didn’t have a set of instructions for this version of his brother, the one that was willing to spend hours building a coop that would likely be useful for only a handful of days.

He covered his bafflement and creeping fondness by giving him a hand moving the pieces.

—

Two weeks in, and Dean gave her a name.

Sam’s spinach was missing. 

“Dean… I know you're not the one who ate spinach,” Sam remarked, looking all around the fridge, knowing it was no longer where he’d left it. 

Dean made a face over his turkey sandwich. “Hell no.” He took a big bite and spoke around it, “I gave it to Bonnie.”

“Bonnie?” It took Sam a second to connect the dots, but the candidates were few. He tried feeling irritation about his food but only found warmth instead. 

“What? She might make us rich, least she deserves is a name.”

Sam stole the second half of Dean’s sandwich.

“Hey! Make your own!”

Sam could tease Dean about bonding with a chicken. The opportunity was ripe for the picking. Instead he kept quiet as he defiantly ate his stolen sandwich, curious how this would play out.

—

Almost a month in and Bonnie still hadn't laid an egg. Dean kept adding little things every few days to try and make her more comfortable, like more fake grass and perches. When he brought in some real plants, Sam ordered a couple growth lamps online to make sure they wouldn’t wilt. Dean’s giddiness when he brought them in made Sam’s ribs warm in his chest.  

“There’s only a week left for the spell,” Sam pointed out one afternoon, watching Dean set up a fan so she could have some wind. 

“So? Golden eggs, Sammy.”

Sam raised his hands, surrendering. He’d come to realize it didn’t really matter. One day they’d have to face reality again, the one where they were gone for stretches at a time and couldn’t reliably take care of something like a chicken, supernatural or not. But until then, Sam would let Dean have this. 

—

A couple days later, Sam went to join Dean in his room and found it empty. He checked the kitchen and garage. Nowadays, if Dean wasn’t in any one of those, it left one likely place.

When Sam opened the door to the dungeon, he found his brother sitting on the floor with his back against the wall. He seemed to be napping, his head tilted against his shoulder. Bonnie had fallen asleep against his side, head tucked between her wing and his ribs. 

Sam bit the inside of his cheek, hard. He still felt his lips shake around his smile, disbelief and stupid, stupid fondness aching his cheeks. He took a second to snap a picture, then closed the door and stepped forward very carefully.

“Dean,” he called, low, putting a hand on his shoulder.

His brother opened his eyes slowly. He straightened his head with a wince and raised his free hand to rub it out. 

“Shit.” He made to move but noticed Bonnie. “What time is it?”

“A little after midnight.”

“She snuck up on me. Didn't think I’d fall asleep.”

Sam faked consternation. “If a chicken can sneak cuddles on you, we can never hunt together again.”

“Shut up.” Dean very carefully shifted so he could put his feet under him, then gathered up Bonnie. She clucked a little, but let him move her to her coop where she settled back down.

“I’m never living this down, am I?”

“In your dreams.”

—

The following morning, Bonnie had disappeared. There was one perfect golden egg amongst some of the low plants in the middle of the room. 

Sam took it very carefully as Dean inspected the area, making sure she wasn’t hiding anywhere. The egg was very heavy and inexplicably, a little warm. He wondered if it could hatch. 

“About time,” Dean said, but his voice was thick and rough. His shoulders were taut, as if forcing indifference was a real, physical strain. 

Sam had always experienced Dean’s caretaking from the inside, as the recipient. Watching it from the outside, seeing him grow attached to and fussing over a bird, had been a revelation. He didn’t need this to understand Dean’s devotion to him - he already knew too well. This – this was perspective. 

“Here.” He handed the egg over to Dean, who hefted it with some surprise. His face was hard and he hadn’t looked straight at him since they’d found her gone. Sam reached out and grabbed his flannel, tugged. “Hey.”

Dean looked up at him, finally, a sharp line between his eyebrows. Sam tugged harder, forcing him to take one step closer. “I’m sorry she’s gone,” he said sincerely, and was glad he’d chosen not to mock Dean about this.

Something passed behind Dean’s eyes. Grief, loss, old and familiar. He shut it out with the ease of long practice and his body loosened. He allowed Sam to drag him in for a kiss, the egg held between their chests, and then stepped away. Back to business. 

“C’mon. She took her sweet damn time, we need to do this spell.”

Maybe they’d been lucky finding her, or maybe they’d only managed to find her because they needed to. Maybe they’d needed to prove something before she would lay an egg. Whatever it was – Sam knew Dean was the one who’d passed this test for both of them. 

[perditious]

i think i’m pointedly noncommittal about the shoes in the house thing because of my aunt, one of two adults who shaped the vast majority of my youthful impressions of the world (she and my mother did this by simply not letting me touch grass or interact extensively with other people unmonitored).

she is Very Normal about a number of things including Cleanliness and had a ‘landing pad’ inside her front door for everyone’s shoes and she got upset if the vacuum marks on the carpet got disturbed and put down literal walking paths of contact paper for contractors. even as a silly child who didn’t know a single thing yet (other than ‘do not leave footprints on the rug or disturb the world by leaving a single trace of your presence’) i would listen to her get upset about like the guys who installed her fridge stepping on the floor WHILE MANEUVERING A REFRIGERATOR INTO HER HOME and be like hmm this seems. like a lot. possibly the opposite of how i want to be. moving a fridge sounds hard and a footprint on linoleum does not seem like a hanging offense (reason to call someone’s manager) (ma’am you are a parody of a cliche).

which sounds very wise of child-me but do NOT worry i was also internalizing so many things, sponge-like, that would cause various problems and disordered eating patterns later on down the road. the white women from whence i came are nothing if not hilariously predictable (in hindsight) about shunting their unexamined generational and situational trauma directly into crippling yet sitcom-like control issues (and also children in their care). i like to say im still figuring out who i am but at least ive got several blueprints for what i don’t want to be. and i like to say it real deadpan, because lol i mean it.

[fazbear-security]

The Cousins & The Campgrounds

The Campgrounds are the second largest room in the pizzeria, next to the party hall, and are the main location where the former Toy animatronics (now 'Cousins' as part of their rebranding) are hosted.

The area is themed around a campsite deep in a forest, and contain a prop RV with an overhang and a stage, carpeted woodchip paths and grass, log bench chairs and tree stump tables. It also contains a DDR-style memory game run by Teddy, a karaoke corner run by Chickie (Toy Chica), and a small ropes course run by a human staff member and occasionally visited by Mangle.

One corner of the room is roped off around a 'coming soon!' sign. This is the planned location of an activity planned to be run by Bono (formerly Toy Bonnie). However, as he is still undergoing repairs and upgrades, the activity has not yet been installed.

Teddy (Toy Freddy) hangs out on the stage in front of the RV and does comedy to entertain the kids waiting on food and activities, and fills in time between the band's own shows.

There is one large tree branch up near the ceiling that disguises a vent in the wall connecting to the crow's nest of Foxy's ship in Pirate's Cove. Mangle uses this vent to visit the Campgrounds in between shows, comment on the activities they can see going on, regale children with stories of their adventures, and then disappear again in time for Foxy's next show.

Four additional private party rooms are attached to the Campgrounds, and are accessible through a beaded curtain painted to look like more trees. There is a small waiting room with another prop RV and stage where other animatronics (usually one of the main four, Foxy, or Sam) can entertain those waiting to enter the party rooms, under the guise of traveling to visit the Cousins.

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[faraway-sunshine]

oo, a house, not an apartment?

A really big one too. Dad said it's an "Investment Property" and that he could afford it off of the new job and splitting with Joey and I guess stiffing Mom after the divorce.

It's really big for two people though, so they rent out two floors and the basement. Technically his and Joey's floor only has a small study, a bedroom and this other room that must have been the master bedroom as it had a small bathroom and big closet but had kitchen appliances and living room furniture put in it (on top of the carpet). The interior shape and low overall ceiling makes me think it's a converted attic. I've been sleeping on the couch, as it has a pull-out bed.

The middle floor, which has three rooms and a bathroom, and the ground floor, with a small bathroom crammed into a laundry room and the big formerly living room, share a kitchen. I think the basement technically does too but that tenant has a microwave and nothing else according to Dad (who has offered to install more outlets as between the heater and the microwave there's no other ones but keeps being told it's fine).

The stairwell is also shared for everyone to keep shoes and hats and things, the garage is reserved for Dad's car and Joey's motorbike while others park on the street or outside grass, and as they haven't gotten mailboxes for everyone yet sorting the mail is such a fiasco that Dad just has his and Joey's stuff delivered to his office.

There's also a garden but it's in a bad state as nobody has time to maintain it right. Dad said he might look at it once snow season's over.

(Thursday 23rd November, 2000, 11:36 PM)

[kerplunkmedia]

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