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By duaoer naster · Posted
good to know , i though maybe everyone just use diaper plain and change so it did not leak -
By Kitty Angel · Posted
119. Confidence Isadora woke up and rubbed her bleary eyes. A part of her always wanted to stay in bed; every plushie in the nursery gathered together to give her a little sense of companionship. She hadn’t gone back to the master bedroom in two days; in fact she’d barely spent any time in the house at all. She would get up in the morning, dashing out right away without even checking if Brock was in the lounge, and then go straight back to this safe space when she got home. She needed to solve the case on her own. That was the only option now; the only way she could proceed now. She had thought that finding the right address in Fairhaven would make all the difference, but instead he’d used her patient detective work to prop up his existing theories, unwilling to consider any scenario where Lorenzo wasn’t the root of all evil. He’d been quite personable when they ran into each other, but she didn’t want to talk to him anymore. If he would even tell her anything. She could look at his trackers and recordings, but she had no doubt he would have censored the important parts now. The night before, with more than half an hour of footage missing from what he’d tried to present as a normal poker game, hadn’t reassured her. And with the equinox coming closer, there wasn’t any time to waste on chasing an innocent suspect. Today, she knew that she needed an early start. She was going to the Fairhaven Exchange with her best friends in this neighbourhood. And more than a chance to shop with the girls, she hoped that after a little time to relax she would be able to think more easily again. And that meant that she took a little more time than usual to get ready this morning. She needed to fit in with the rest of the girls, but more than that, she decided that she was going to make an extra effort to preserve their cover identities today. She hesitated for two or three minutes in the nursery, but eventually pushed herself forward. There was a chance that Nina would be punished again; would have to wear diapers for the trip. And a substantial part of Stella’s connection to Nina now was that they were supposed to be in similar situations. Isadora found the courage, and opened one of the packs under the changing table. They were pull-up diapers; not actual diapers, so she was pretty confident that they wouldn’t have any posthypnotic effect on her cognitive abilities. It was just another kind of costume; something she could let Nina notice in order to reinforce the impression that Stella and Bernard were in the same boat as Nina and Victor. Even when her partner apparently didn’t trust her judgement, she was determined that she would keep on playing her part. Once the pull-up was on, she quickly threw on a floral wrap dress, a shawl in a contrasting colour, and Stella’s favourite amethyst earrings. And finally, she was ready to go. The lounge was quiet when she walked past, but there was nothing new about that. Brock was probably out there already, investigating the ULF or wasting time poking into Lorenzo’s business. She had no idea what he would be doing, and didn’t want to think about it any more. She could check the recordings when she got home, if he hadn’t deleted them again. The drive to Fairhaven Exchange was twenty minutes she didn’t have to fill with anything. So she turned on the car stereo and tried seeking through the available stations, wondering if she could find something new to take her mind off her partner’s refusal to cooperate; and especially off the missing minutes from last night’s audio recording. How could he possibly think that was proper protocol? And it couldn’t be a mistake, not when he was still doing the same almost every week. She didn’t even want to think about how much he was still hiding from her. She tried to focus on the road, but it didn’t help. But when she found a song she recognised on the radio, belting out the words took her away from her own life for a few precious minutes. “This one’s for the man that saved me,” she called, loud enough that she wasn’t sure whether the sound would carry outside the car, and kind of hoping that the other people on the highway could feel a moment of her distraction. “He bought me sacks of pies and gravy.” That wasn’t the right lyrics, of course it wasn’t. But after a heavily-inebriated night at a karaoke bar in the middle of college, and events that would stick in her mind forever, she would never be able to hear anything else from this song. With a pounding beat slowly getting closer to her heart rate, at least for now she could put any other worries out of her mind. She focused on singing, and on the road ahead, until the old brick buildings of the Exchange came into sight. She found parking without too much trouble, and almost before she was out of the car she could see Zannah in the doorway. Now she had questions to ask that had no connection to international terrorism. She wanted to know about her friend’s date, and she sincerely hoped that walking around the different boutiques and outlets, talking to good friends, and maybe a bottle or two of prosecco could give her a little relaxation. She almost called out Zannah’s name before the door was even open, then caught herself. Two days of ducking around the house and hardly talking to anyone had apparently set her social calibration off; she needed to dial it back from desperate to something more appropriate for a space with dozens of other people around. She got out of the car and half-ran towards the building, wondering how long it would take for her to find Zannah again once she was inside. But apparently her friend had recognised her car, and was still waiting just inside the main building. “Boo!” Zannah exclaimed, and then echoed Isadora’s laughter back to her. That was the sign of real friendship, Isadora thought. The kind of joke that made no sense at all, but you got it instantly. “Hope that cheers you up.” “Yeah,” Isadora answered with a grin, and then hesitated when her brain caught up with her mouth. “Wait, what? Why would I need cheering up?” “That’s up to you,” Zannah answered, and gave a half-shrug. “You just looked like you needed a moment to relax. So nervous while you walked over from your car. No stress allowed in the Exchange, you know? Better leave all that outside.” “I can do that,” Isadora said, and she was finally sure that she could. Friends were what she needed now, and she couldn’t wait to meet the others. “Thank you.” Zannah leaned forward and offered a hug that came with a scent of jasmine and fresh pine; a new perfume that could easily have been Zannah’s own method for escaping anxiety. “Come on,” she said, and reached out for Isadora’s hand. “Alison just called me, they’re at some new cocktail bar in the vaults with a historical arcade theme. Like last century technology is cool again, or something, but I want to get a new badge for my collar before I go down there, see if anybody notices. Can you help me choose?” “Your…” Isadora started, and took a step forward as the younger girl tugged on her arm. She imagined that even that slight movement gave a reminder of what she was wearing today; a faint crinkle that she was sure was entirely in her mind. And then she looked properly at Zannah, whose outfit was as outlandish as ever. Was the collar new? It was a heavy choker with a deco silver clasp at the front, and a broad fabric strap on which Zannah had already affixed three different pin badges. Isadora thought she had seen the badges before, maybe moving around other parts of the girl’s outfit each time they met, but she couldn’t be sure whether the choker itself was a new addition. The stall she had in mind was one Isadora half-recognised. A narrow booth was tucked in between a jeweller and a candle shop, with wire displays crowded with enamel pins and small embroidered patches. The kind of stall where the items on display seemed to change completely every week. Isadora was fairly sure the googly-eyed badges she and Nina had found here last time had been on the leftmost display, but that rack now held a different collection entirely; cartoon ghosts and small geometric shapes in candy colours. “That one is so you,” Isadora said, pointing before she’d entirely made the decision. “Which one?” “The little bear. With the… It looks so surprised.” Isadora paused after she’d said that, and tried to work out what particular details on the enamel badge actually gave that impression. Meanwhile, Zannah considered it with the seriousness the decision deserved. “You're right,” she said after a moment. “Obviously the bear. But what’s his name?” Isadora didn’t have an answer, but she had a chuckle at the mock-seriousness of the question. She found a new accessory for herself as well, a small shiny star that had caught her eye, and didn't examine the impulse too closely. It was pretty, it probably suited Stella’s aesthetic, and that was all she needed to worry about. Zannah offered to buy it for her, as a gift. And after a little back and forth Isadora agreed, provided that she could buy the little bear for her friend. They declined the offer of plastic wallets or paper bags, both choosing to wear their purchases immediately. And ten minutes later, while some of the boutiques were still opening up around them, they headed towards the staircase that was signposted with the names of four businesses set up in the Exchange hall’s newer basement area. The steps creaked and led down into stone, the air noticeably cooler as the noise of the upper floor faded behind them. The vaulted ceiling was original, Isadora guessed. There were sturdy brick arches that would once have held cotton bales above them, now supporting partitions between six different sections of the basement area; two of them still empty. To the right of them, a blue sign spelled out the name ‘Gic Chic’ in a typeface that somehow screamed early ‘90s in just a couple of curves. The arches beyond were strung with neon tubing in pink and teal that threw soft shadows into the curves of the stone. Whoever had designed the place had understood that the bones of it were the best feature, and had been restrained enough to let them show. The floor was smooth concrete, the bar itself reclaimed wood and brushed steel. Many of the arches were occupied by arcade machines which really could have come from the last century, dividing a large floor space up into a maze of more intimate booths. The pillars and original walls were covered in a dense collage of posters, magazine covers, and printed advertisements. A particular cultural niche assembled carefully enough to feel lived-in rather than curated. There were items from throughout the history of video games; but it was clear that whoever owned this collection had some personal attachment to the early ‘90s. “What even is that?” Zannah asked, stopping to look at a poster near the entrance. Isadora looked, and gave a smile. There weren’t that many years between them, but it was strange to see that something she remembered from her childhood was now a mystery. “That’s a Tamagotchi,” she answered. “Yeah, it says. But… what’s that?” “It’s a little digital pet. You carry it around and feed it.” Isadora paused. “Or you forget about it and it dies.” Zannah stared at the poster for another second. “Like… Webkinz, but they really die? That’s awful.” "It was very popular," Isadora said, not sure what else she could add. She wondered how many other things she had never really stopped to think about, which would seem strange to someone hearing about them for the first time. It applied to things that had once been popular, just as much as to her more niche interests. They moved slowly between games Isadora vaguely remembered from her youth, and ones she was sure she should have been able to name. Different coloured lights reflected off gleaming glass tables as each machine tried to attract potential players, and gave an impression something like being inside a kaleidoscope. But before long, they found Alison sitting in an alcove with a highball glass in her hand. “So good to see you!” she said with a smile, rising to greet them. “I just heard from Martha, they’re finding a parking space. Do you know who else we’re expecting?” “No idea, sorry,” Zannah gave a shrug. “I ran into Estelle on the way in, haven’t seen anyone else yet.” “If there’s more than five we might need to find a bigger table,” Alison said thoughtfully. “But good to see you, Estelle. It’s been too long, you must tell me what you’ve been up to.” “Oh, I’m more interested to hear how Zannah got on. We haven’t spoken since your date, have we? I do hope I’m not the only one still in the dark.” “It was amazing!” Zannah beamed with enthusiasm. “I mean… I have to thank you for making me ask him. He was so…” Then her voice trailed off into silence. Isadora followed her gaze for a moment, and saw that Zannah must have been surprised by the arrival of her mother. She kept the smile on display, even if she couldn’t find the words to talk about her experiences right now. And Isadora wondered just how much tension there was between the two; whether it would be a problem for the mood of the rest of the day. Barbara crossed the room with the unhurried confidence of someone who had been coming to this place for decades, a shopping bag from one of the upper boutiques already in hand. She smiled quickly at Alison before taking in the rest of the table. “Hello again. I thought I saw Zannah’s car on the way down here. You could have ridden with us, sweetie, it would have been easier I’m sure. And Estelle, so good to see you dear. We haven’t really caught up since you got back from your trip. I was meaning to speak to you at the hustings meeting, but Ian thought it might be awkward. Our husbands are supposed to be rivals now, you know?” “Y…yeah,” Isadora said slowly. In the time since they had last chatted, it seemed she had forgotten just how Barbara’s personality sometimes seemed to fill the room. “I think Martha said she was coming this week,” Barbara continued. “Said she was going to talk to help Kaylee look for a new set of steak knives. So we might need a bigger table.” “Depends how long we’re down here,” Zannah cut in. “If it’s just one pre-shopping drink, I think we’ll be out of the bar before Kaylee arrives. She’s never up this early.” “Oh, I’m sure,” Barbara glanced around the alcove with the practiced eye of someone mentally rearranging furniture. “We can squeeze in for a little while. Zannah, you were in the middle of something?” “It’s nothing,” Zannah mumbled. “I’ll get the drinks if you want.” “Nonsense!” Barbara huffed. “I shall be right back.” And without even sitting down, she strode off in the direction of the bar. -
By Lost Little Neppy · Posted
I'm with the people who hope Harley loses her job with this. But I don't know if Bryan and Lilly would have it in them to fire her. They keep ignoring the red flags for what they see as green flags. "She's keeps Paul's tracker in the green" yeah, so does watching fucking Batman, that doesn't mean you put that in charge of your son when he's having these kinds of issues, God. As a side note, I did some coloring (one of my favorite pasttimes) and gave Harley Quinn pink hair because of this character. And cherry red lips. Worked out really well! -
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