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PART EIGHT HUNDRED AND FORTY-THREE
[Previous Chapter] [The Beginning] [Patreon+2]
Friday
Something had changed overnight. I wasn’t sure what the something was, but there was a vibe or something in the air after Geraldine and I came out of our dressing room. I knew what change was coming this afternoon, but this was more than that. Even Gerry asked me, “What’s going on?” after we dressed for our last—exam—ever and rejoined everyone at the kitchen island for breakfast.
My first priority after Gerry was Mom, but she and Dad were sitting in their usual places already eating breakfast since it wasn’t the meal Robbie insisted we all come together for. It made sense, with everybody working different hours. Brock wasn’t even up yet, though surprisingly, Boyd was.
Maybe that was the difference. Boyd hadn’t been an early riser since he lost his job, though if Mrs Parkes and Robbie and my own eyes (because no matter how many times I said it, that piece on the coffee table in the living room was A-MAZ-ING!) were anything to go by, his enterprise of wood sculpting was taking off nicely.
And he didn’t look fatigued. If anything, he looked great. Relaxed and happy within his own skin, if those things could be quantified physically.
Lucas looked like he was ready to walk out the door. He didn’t have his gun on that I could tell, and even I noticed the extra height to his shirt collar and tie were hiding over half his throat. The only reason I noticed was because a few minutes ago, Gerry and I were figuring out the best way to hide my shower hickeys from everyone at the table until my skin healed them up. So, Lucas and I were in the same boat at opposite ends of the kitchen island, and the smirk he shot me said he recognised a fellow ‘attack-ee’.
Gerry sucked in a rushed breath and straightened at my side, but as I twisted towards her, she was already out of her seat and rushing the length of the kitchen island to Boyd and Lucas. “Congratulations!” she gushed as Lucas slid off his chair with a big cheesy grin and opened his arms for her.
“Thanks, sweetheart,” he laughed, hugging her close. She then broke away and looked at Boyd, who rolled his eyes to the ceiling with a sigh before following Lucas’ move (though his was more a case of flopping his arms open in a ‘get-it-over-with’ kind of way).
Gerry was more cautious with her hug of Boyd. But when Boyd’s arms closed around her, Mason let out a positively girlish squeal and launched from his seat to grab Lucas around the shoulders while Robbie and Charlie sent each other knowing grins.
Now they were all acting crazy, and I looked back at Mom and Dad to see if they knew what was going on.
Dad lifted a shoulder, saying he had no clue either, but Mom smiled the way she did when she was both happy for someone but at the same time marginally disappointed in them. As her son, I was a connoisseur of her expressions, and I looked back at my roommates to see what I’d missed.
“What was in the water yesterday?!” Mason shouted in delight, leaping at Lucas a second time and pounding him soundly on the back. “First my boss and Angus, and now you and Boyd!”
That had Dad’s head snapping up. “What about Angus?”
Mason twisted towards us with his chin lifted high in smug condescension. “I told you last night! He and my boss are off somewhere private together. They went to lunch yesterday after having a date the night before, and this time, they didn’t come back.” His good humour then evaporated, and his nose screwed up in disdain. “So now we got one of her douchebag older brothers filling in until further notice, which sucks.”
Since I was still playing catchup where my roommates were concerned (because from the way Mason had talked last night, they were already pretty much a couple), I kept quiet and hoped things would start making sense soon.
“Her brother’s a vet too?” Dad said with a sharp edge to his voice. At least I wasn’t the only one trying to wrap my head around true gryps mechanics.
Mason nodded. “Apparently, though I think he was watching too much House MD when it came to lessons on bedside manners. I mean, how does he not know that pets pick up on that sort of vibe and owners don’t need to be beaten over the head with how they messed up and got their pets hurt? They feel bad enough already, you know?”
It was then that I finally noticed Boyd’s and Lucas’ rings, and my smile was so huge that I genuinely had a hard time seeing either of them over bunching cheekbones. “Yes!” I shouted in delight, absolutely happy to join everyone on that end of the kitchen island in congratulating them both. My hugs were much tamer than either Gerry’s or Mason’s because I didn’t want to accidentally crush them in my excitement. “So … who proposed to who?”
When I was waiting up last night with Robbie and Charlie, I’d known they were on their first serious date, much like mine was the Wednesday night Gerry and I went to the movies, but I hadn’t realised it was a proposal date!
I looked from one to the other for an answer that could’ve gone both ways. Boyd had always been the strength of the household, and I couldn’t see him accepting a proposal from Lucas. But likewise, Lucas was the one most comfortable in his skin, and if he waited for Boyd, they’d both be hundred-year-old bachelors.
“Lucas proposed on the date, and I came home and carved him a ring…”
“The spots are a natural woodgrain,” Lucas added, holding his left hand out palm up in a ‘stop’ motion so we could see the pattern before he flipped his hand around, no doubt to avoid the stereotypical engagement gesture.
“That is beautiful,” Gerry gushed. Her eyes went to Boyd. “And you made this?”
Boyd nodded. “I had some sample pieces of different sizes in my store room, and Lucas liked the snakewood over the lignum vitae. Unfortunately, that meant I couldn’t do any other work this morning as I ruined some of my tools, but that just meant I got to stay in bed until Lucas got up…”
“Your tools broke?” Mom asked. “I thought they were brand new…”
Now wasn’t the time to mention that I’d given Boyd Grandpa’s old tool set. Or any other time, for that matter. I chose life.
“They were,” Boyd said, surprising me. He then looked at me and said, “The ones you gave me are still in the work cabinet in my room. I’d never do anything to break them.”
“Sam?” Mom asked cautiously.
Time to come clean. “Boyd didn’t have any tools last week, so I gave him Grandpa’s old set to get him started.” I turned to point at the family piece on the coffee table. “He made that with them.”
“You used Dad’s old tools to carve that?” The end of her sentence broke as all the muscles of her face stiffened in an effort to keep the tears at bay, and I was immediately concerned. Mom never cried over anything, and she certainly never got emotional. The Statue of Liberty cried more often than Mom did.
“Yes, ma’am, I did,” Boyd answered, not in his usual way either. “It wasn’t until I finished that piece that I was given the studio next door and all the toys that came with it.”
Dad’s arm curled around Mom’s shoulder, but he was staying relatively calm, and Mom wasn’t throwing his arm off. “Don’t protect Dad’s tools,” she said, brushing irritably at her eyes. “He’d roll over in his grave if you turned them into something more than they are.”
“Oh, I will use them, Miss W, but I’m not going to break them on a wood that has a history of destroying two-thousand-dollar diamond-tipped saw blades with each tree.”
“I didn’t think anything was harder than a diamond,” I said, now curious.
“It’s not the diamond tips that break, Sam.” He closed his hands into fists and pushed them into each other. “When two immovable forces meet and lock together, the metal disk behind the diamonds warps and eventually either cracks or shatters from the pressure.”
“Wood can do that?” Charlie asked, shocked.
“Some wood can, yeah. It depends on the amount of resin between the timber fibres. It’s the same resin that fossilises insects sometimes.”
I hadn’t realised wood could be that tough either, but I knew those amber fossils were like stone.
“I’ll reach out to my cousin Kala and see what she thinks the best option for tools is,” Dad said, polishing off a slice of French toast.
“You mean my Aunt Kala?” Robbie jeered with a broad smirk and a waggle of his eyebrows. “That Kala?”
Dad’s gaze turned dark, and I held my breath. Correcting Dad was definitely taking your life into your own hands ... unless you were Mom. “Yes, that Kala. The same Kala who happens to know precisely nothing about you, by your choice. Are you in a hurry to change that?” By the time he reached the end of his second sentence, Dad’s expression had morphed into the same smug look Mason had worn last night.
“What does she specialise in?” Lucas asked, over the top of Robbie. I stood with Gerry in my arms at the corner of the island between Boyd and Robbie, watching everything unfold.
“She’s the mistress of all things art. Many of her kids and grandkids lean towards painting and sculpture and the like.”
“So, basically, what I do only a thousand times better,” Boyd stated rather than asked, deflating a little.
I bristled, because it wasn’t fair that he compared himself to an established goddess.
“I’m not equating your work to hers,” Dad said, waving the idea aside as ludicrous. “What I’m saying is if anyone in the world knows the best equipment for this application, it’s going to be her. If I ask nicely enough, she and Columbine might even go into the celestial realm to craft you a set of divine tools that won’t be damaged by anything mortal.” He waved his toast regally in the air. “For obvious reasons, I can’t guarantee that outcome without speaking to them about it first.”
“Divine?” Gerry asked, and I immediately winced.
Thanks, Dad.
* * *
((Author's note: Everyone, I can't edit any posts I put up - both the latest and the old, which means at the moment, I can't add any 'previous' and 'next' links to anything. It keeps telling me I've maxed out the 10, 000 characters, which is not right given the small size of these posts. I'll try again each day until they start to work again.))
((All comments welcome. Good or bad, I'd love to hear your thoughts 🥰🤗))
I made a family tree/diagram of the Mystallian family that can be found here
For more of my work including WPs: Angel466 or an index of previous WPS here.
FULL INDEX OF BOB THE HOBO TO DATE CAN BE FOUND HERE!!

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I got SIBO for the first time after having food poisoning in 2015. Took 2 weeks of Xifaxan and also was eating barely anything for months on end. That helped but never fully got rid of the symptoms.
Fast forward to 2019 and I have what might’ve been a stomach virus (or maybe a SIBO flare up) and a stressful job. Over the course of 2 years, all my symptoms start to return and get worse. I go back to the GI doctor and they’re no help. I find an ND that’s willing to treat both holistically and with prescriptions. I do a SIBO test and my hydrogen gets up to 130. She said that’s severe.
I try herbals first - Biocidin drops which really seem to irritate my intestines. After a few months of no improvement, she has me try a month of Xifaxan. This actually helped but then I start Biocidin again and later that year I’m back to how I was before. I do another month of Xifaxan and no change…I try to attempt the elemental diet but can’t do it.
So here I am a year and half after starting treatment and I’m still sick. I’m currently on a trip with 8 girls and just feel awful but have to suck it up so I don’t ruin the mood. I can’t go places without taking precautionary Imodium. I’m beginning to think the only thing that’s helped was fasting but I can no longer do that because I have other issues that make that nearly impossible for me. I’m at a loss at this point with treatment options.

I already posted something in POTS. I guess I am looking for some advice.
I am a 37M recently diagnosed with small fiber neuropathy dysautonomia. And I am struggling with some symptoms lately, especially during exercise.
Basically I get tachycardia upon standing. Resting HR is around 60 and can up to 100 on sudden standing. BP doesn’t change much though which is weird. And I don’t actually get symptoms upon standing. I did a tilt table test as part of my diagnoses and nothing significant was observed. So it’s doesn’t always happen I guess. So I’m not sure if it related to POTS.
But here is the issue. Very little exercise and effort causes my HR to sky rocket. Initially I thought this due to standing upright doing jump rope exercise. It goes very quickly from close to 100 to 130. I have to stop in order for it to settle.
So I decided to start swimming. Since I thought being prone would help. But same problem. After about 50 meters of medium exertion it spikes to 130 and I have to wait for it to come down again.
When I am training like this, I don’t feel too tired but when I get out the pool I feel pushed. I experience what feels like post exercise malaise. Even a depression sets in. If I go too hard I it can feel like I have flu for 3 days. I’ve even experienced like a derealisation.
What could be done to increase my condition to be able to exercise better.
One exercise where it doesn’t occur is yoga. It’s seems to be stable during that. But I would like to do something more aerobic.
And yes, I am discussing all of this with my specialists. They’ve actually suggested I join a rehab program for patients with long COVID that can help build up my condition. But maybe CHOP program is better?
Thanks in advance

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“Your fingerprints and DNA are all over the murder weapons!”
“You think I KILLED people!?! Are you serious??”
“Then how do you explain this” shouted Detective DiSante as he slapped down photo after photo of the grisly murder scenes.
“Victim #1- Giacomo Sorrelli was beheaded with this chainsaw.
Victim #2- Jonathan SanChristian was beaten to death with this shovel.
Victim #3- Dante Cross was beaten to death with this hammer
And Victim #4- has yet to be identified as his hands were cut off with this miter saw. His face obliterated by acid and lime.”
Wesley is shocked into silence, made nauseous by the scenes cruelly laid down before him.
“I…I…I…” he stammers struggling to make sense of the carnage. “I’ve never killed anyone. Never. I’m not a killer! I don’t know these people” he shouts.
“Then WHY are your fingerprints and DNA all over the weapons? Explain THAT!”
“I work in a hardware store! Don’t you know that? Do you know how many tools I touch in a day? How many times I demonstrate to customers EVERY DAY? My fingerprints are all OVER the store! On EVERYTHING I sell!”
Detective DiSante sat back, the realization of what Wesley said suddenly igniting that bulb in his brain. “Oh my God” he thinks to himself. “What if we have a serial killer on our hands?”
DiSante pauses, then speaks. “Do you recognize these tools? Are these items you sell in your store?”
Wesley studies the images, trying to see past the brain tissue, blood and skin left on the weapons.
“Well, yeah, they’re all common brands- any store could sell these. DeWalt chainsaw, Craftsman hammer. Go to any hardware store, you’ll find them.”
“But your store is the only one in town. And it was you store’s receipt for the chainsaw we found crumbled in the grass outside Victim #1s house.”
“Why would I have a receipt for a tool if I work I at the hardware store? I could just take it and write it off as a loss.”
DiSante mulls this over for a minute. “Do you have video surveillance at the store?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s a small town! Everyone knows everyone! What do I need it for?”
“Ok, so if you know everyone, do you know who bought each of these weapons?”
“Are you kidding me? How do you suppose I remember every purchase?”
“Does anything stand out to you? Any of these weapons spark a memory of an odd request or purchase?”
“No.”
“Do you keep sales records? Credit card receipts?”
“Credit card receipts yes, but not if the person pays with cash.”
DiSante sighs heavily and tells Wesley he can go. His only lead obliterated.
——————— Wesley is shaking as he slides behind the wheel of his pickup truck. Drops the keys while trying to find the ignition. Pulls himself together after a moment, enough so he can drive home.
He jumps when the phone rings. He answers without a greeting, knowing full well who it is.
“You did good, Wesley.” The caller hangs up.
What Wesley DIDN’T tell Detective DiSante is that the mystery caller is behind the murders.
Wesley’s job is the perfect cover. The man slips a note into the cash used for a small, forgettable item from the store. Instructions on which tool is needed and a description of the person coming to pick up the item are in the note. The buyer, a different person every time, never touches the tool after Wesley demonstrates how to use it. The buyer leaves, and Wesley is left clueless- until now- of the purpose behind these purchases.
He stops the truck in time to push open the door and vomit on the side of the road. What the hell is he supposed to do?

What's going on?
A recent Reddit policy change threatens to kill many beloved third-party mobile apps, making a great many quality-of-life features not seen in the official mobile app permanently inaccessible to users.
On May 31, 2023, Reddit announced they were raising the price to make calls to their API from being free to a level that will kill every third party app on reddit, from Apollo to reddit is Fun to Narwhal to BaconReader.
Even if you're not a mobile user and don't use any of those apps, this is a step toward killing other ways of customizing Reddit, such as Reddit Enhancement Suite or the use of the old.reddit.com desktop interface.
This isn't only a problem on the user level: many subreddit moderators depend on tools only available outside the official app to keep their communities on-topic and spam-free. What's the plan?
On June 12th, many subreddits will be going dark to protest this policy. Some will return after 48 hours: others will go away permanently unless the issue is adequately addressed, since many moderators aren't able to put in the work they do with the poor tools available through the official app. This isn't something any of us do lightly: we do what we do because we love Reddit, and we truly believe this change will make it impossible to keep doing what we love.
The two-day blackout isn't the goal, and it isn't the end. Should things reach the 14th with no sign of Reddit choosing to fix what they've broken, we'll use the community and buzz we've built between then and now as a tool for further action.
What can you do as a user?

1. Complain. Message the mods of reddit, who are the admins of the social media site
2. Submit a support request: comment in relevant threads on reddit, leave a negative review on their official iOS or Android app and sign your username in support to this post.
3. Spread the word. Rabble-rouse on related subreddits. Meme it up, make it spicy. Bitch about it to your cat. Suggest anyone you know who moderates a subreddit join the coordinated mod effort at ModCoord
4. Boycott and spread the word...to Reddit's competition! Stay off Reddit entirely on June 12th through the 13th - instead, take to your favorite non-Reddit platform of choice and make some noise in support!
5. Don't be a jerk. As upsetting this may be, threats, profanity and vandalism will be worse than useless in getting people on our side. Please make every effort to be as restrained, polite, reasonable and law-abiding as possible.
   What can you do as a moderator?
   

• Join the coordinated effort over at ModCoord
• Make a sticky post showing your support, a template has been created here you can use or modify to your liking, and be sure to crosspost it to ModCoord
  Thank you for your patience in the matter,
  

Mod Team
👉 Here's a cool infographic to help further explain what's going on

The common opinion is that the MCI happened all in one day. The main thing that makes people believe it is that the fnaf 1 newspapers show the purple man was arrested the day after he killed 2 kids, but couldn't those just be the last two, and then the first three could havw been killed earlier and only linked to that incident the next morning.
Others say it wouldn't make sense for the missing children incident to be called an incident if it was a series of murders across different days. But all 5 of these murders, which happened more close together than your typical killings, were the same. A man in a mascot suit lured a kid into a private room in Freddy's and they went missing.
And the words "the missing children incident" are never even said in FNAF. All we are told is that 3 kids more were linked to the June 26 incident, where two children were lured and killed.
But why does it have to be a long time anyway? Here's the evidence.
The silver eyes states the children went missing over a few months. It's not the same continuity but it would be sus to change this detail for no reason.
Chica says she saw everything because she was the first. If they all died at once and then possessed the suits, this is actual illogical. Shouldn't her dying first mean she didn't see the others day? But if she possessed the suit first, now thats a different story.
And wouldn't it be sus for all 4 of the animatronics to be in the private room when they were killed, so afton or the Puppet could stuff them? They would be caught if they had taken the animatronics into the room from their stage or taken the bodies to them. And then they would have only had hours to do this. But if it happened over different days and the bodies were hidden, it makes more sense.
But why does this all matter in the end? It affects one thing, midnight motorist minigame. Some people say the minigame is about Andrew and that "later that night" is talking about the MCI in the night of Susie's death. But I showed this can't be the case, unless Andrew isn't the last or first victim, and most believe he is.

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To get Iman Gadzhi - Agency Navigator contact me on:
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I swear this has been done before coz I have no idea how I could think this up.
Here are some quick notes:
-World where magic has physical effects on the user (100% inspired by Monster Garden https://youtu.be/cwCV1opXBv8 , their worldbuilding is so insanely good) -Magic is very similar to radiation in this world, being too close to a lot of it for a long period of time can seriously fuck up your DNA. Magic users practice with small doses until their bodies gain some sort of “resistance” and they can then use more -Magic is extremely powerful and can grant you loads of respect and influence if you’re skilled at wielding it -Some ppl get obsessed with mastering it, often practicing with dangerously high doses for hours upon hours at a time -Power hungry and corrupted by greed these ppl often abandon their families and circles of friends to devote more time to practicing -Side efforts of doing this come quite quickly; headaches and nosebleeds become more common, the user continuously gets bloodshot eyes, aching joints and fits of throwing up -Soon growths of pulsating flesh erupt from their body, teeth and bone grow and contort to insane proportions -blinded and overtaken by greed, the user doesn’t notice these horrific changes until it become irreversible -Although this being is full of powerful magic, they would have no way of controlling it properly, leaving them to live an extended life if not immortal life of agony
I came up with this in like 10 minutes, if anyone has anything they wanna add or have seen something similar around pls tabard!