#a lot of us grew up with this game. no matter how many years pass we'll always think fondly of it and watch/play from time 2 time...

[willyhoos]

chara deserves to break out of the game window and stretch their legs a little.

HD still beneath cut!

[whiteraven87]

Driven by Speed: A diamond among stones - 16. I Shouldn’t

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The Unstoppable series

Part 1: A Diamond among stones

Prologue

F1 start

Loss and Pain

Calm after the storm

First victory

Unbreakable

Unexpected blow

The Secret

Beginning of New Era

The Burden of a Leader

Sad Anniversary

Unexpected feelings

Hungry Eyes

The Infernal Race

Kiss from A Rose

I shouldn't

Wicked Game

They would be Proud of You

Unstoppable

This is the Beginning

Epilogue

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Warnings: long (very long) slow burn, age gap (23 years), woman racing in F1, boss/driver relationship, difficult and painful past, death, anxiety,

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16. I Shouldn’t

POV Miriell

I didn’t know when it started.

Maybe it was when he wrapped his arms around me and told me I wasn’t alone. Maybe it was when we danced, and his gaze was so piercing that I felt naked, even though I was wearing an elegant gown. Or maybe it was something that had been growing inside me for a long time, slowly, insidiously, until it finally consumed me.

I had fallen in love with him.

It was an unfamiliar feeling. Unknown. And it terrified me more than anything else.

I had never been in love before. I had never allowed myself such weaknesses. I was alone. Always. Because it was easier that way, safer.

And now? Now I had fallen in love with him. With Toto.

With my boss. With a man twenty-three years older than me, a widower to Susie—the woman who had been like a sister to me, like family, like someone I had sworn loyalty to until the end of my days.

I felt like I was betraying her. Like I was tarnishing her memory with the mere thought of him.

It was wrong. It should never have happened.

I don’t remember how many tears I shed back then. How many times I sat in my room, clenching my fists around the sheets, fighting what I felt. I tried to silence it. To lock it away, to pretend it didn’t exist. But the harder I tried to forget, the deeper I fell in love with him.

Toto didn’t help.

He was always there. Attentive. Caring. Strong and gentle at the same time.

He wouldn’t let me shut down, wouldn’t let me fall apart. He was there when I needed him—even when I didn’t have the courage to admit it. And I felt like I was betraying him. Betraying his trust, his kindness. Because when I looked at him, I no longer saw just my boss, my mentor, my friend.

I saw a man.

And that was so very wrong, I felt like I was suffocating.

The track was my escape. There, I could run. When I sat in the car, only the race mattered. The speed, the perfect racing lines, the analysis of every sector, every hundredth of a second.

The championship—that was all that mattered. But even there, he reached me.

His voice in my headphones. His scent when he stood next to me in the garage. His presence—silent but constant, as if he was always making sure I didn’t fall apart.

He haunted my dreams. And that terrified me even more.

I couldn’t feel this. I couldn’t love him.

And yet, despite all the fighting, despite trying to shut him out... this feeling grew inside me with every passing day.

Leave Me

Las Vegas GP, November, hotel, evening after the race

POV Miriell

Another race, another victory. Two more races left until the end of the season. I was leading the drivers’ championship, but Lewis and Max were right on my heels. Each of us had a chance at the title. For them, it would be just another one in their careers. For me, it would be my first. That’s why I fought. But the pressure, the expectations, the endless meetings with engineers—it was a lot. Too much.

And yet, I could handle that.

It was the emotions, the feelings swirling inside me, that betrayed me. They were my enemy. I couldn't feel them, I didn’t want to feel them, but they were there, eating me up from the inside. And at the very center of it all was him.

Toto.

Las Vegas pulsed with neon lights, pounding music, and the chaos of celebration. After a victory, I should have felt euphoria—and for a moment, I did. The alcohol warmed my body pleasantly, loosened the tension in my muscles, briefly dulled the stress of the last days, weeks, and months... but it was only temporary.

That evening, during the party celebrating my latest victory, I drank more than usual. I hadn’t planned to, but I felt like I had to, as if I would break under the weight of everything if I didn’t.

Toto noticed immediately. His gaze was sharp, assessing, but not judgmental. He simply saw that I should stop.

"Come on, I’ll walk you back." he said quietly, so no one else would hear.

I didn’t protest.

We walked through the hotel corridor in silence, my legs heavier than usual. When the door to my room closed behind us, I suddenly felt the weight of the entire night—and the past few weeks—pressing down on me.

Toto was about to leave, but something stopped him. Maybe the way I sank onto the bed. Maybe my unsteady breathing.

"Miriell?"

I didn’t answer.

I was fighting something that had been building inside me for months. And then, I broke.

Warm, salty tears slipped down my cheeks. I couldn’t stop them.

Toto saw. And immediately, he was beside me.

"What’s wrong?" his voice was quiet, full of concern.

Before I could stop him, he sat next to me and wrapped an arm around my shoulders. The warmth of his body was so familiar. So safe.

And so dangerous to me.

I wanted to hide in him. To press myself against him, breathe in his scent, absorb the comfort that only he could give me. But I couldn’t.

I couldn’t—because if I did, everything would change.

I knew that if I told him, if I admitted what I felt, he would pull away. I would lose him.

So I pulled away first.

"I’m not a child" I said sharply, wiping my tears with my sleeve. "You don’t have to babysit me, Toto."

Surprise flickered across his face.

"I’m not babysitting you. I’m worried about you."

"You don’t have to be" I snapped, too quickly, too harshly.

"What’s going on, Miriell?"

His gaze was intense, piercing. I knew that if he stayed any longer, if he kept looking at me like that, I would break.

"Just leave."

Silence.

He looked at me for a moment longer, as if trying to understand, as if trying to break through the wall I was putting up.

Finally, he nodded.

"Alright. But if you need me, you know where to find me."

With those words, he left. The soft click of the door closing behind him was deafening.

I sank to the floor beside the bed, burying my face in my hands.

The tears wouldn’t stop.

I was ready to fight on the track. I was ready to face other drivers, the media, the weight of the world’s expectations.

But I wasn’t ready for this.

For the emotions that consumed me when he was close.

For the pain I felt when I had to push him away.

For the longing that choked me so hard I couldn’t breathe.

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NEXT -> 17. Wicked Game

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"I put my armor on, show you how strong I am."

Read the story here:

AO3 Unstoppable Series

Wattpad Part1 I Wattpad Part 2

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[fan-goddess]

Chapter One: A child’s dream

Catch up on the fic here!

Chapter Summary: You’ve had your previous thoughts on Abraham. Only now he’s come back into your life, they’ve seemed to change to something up can’t control

Taglist: @valeskafics, @omgbrcat @humanpurposes, @watercolorskyy, @blue-serendipity @anjelicawrites @lexwolfhale

Warnings: Talk of arranged marriages, most likely incorrect stuff about Romani culture, crushes, (if I miss any things let me know!)

Ever since you were young, you have always known that you would be married to a man not of your choosing. It was common knowledge in your community how your husband would be chosen for you by your mother and father, whose decisions you have relied upon for so many years.

It felt almost natural, as It had never been something you'd ever feared. If anything, you were quite calm about the whole thing.

It wasn’t as if you were going through something you didn’t already know. Your mother had taught you young what it was you needed to do to be considered a perfect Romani wife by your husband. Some of your fondest memories from when you were a young girl involved you in the kitchen with your mother, who took great pride in making sure you knew all the recipes needed to cook a proper meal for your future family. Though they certainly each had their moments.

From the burn on your wrist you got when you'd splashed boiling water from a too full pot, to the scarred over cut on your finger when you’d been distracted cutting parsnips. From the many years of life, your skin was etched with memories. Still, like most girls in the community, it was one of the few ways to get the undivided attention from your mother, so you hardly complained.

Your father though, as much as he, like all fathers in the community, expected his daughter to be the good wife for their future husband, he never allowed the idea to pass through his head that you would be possibly disrespected by him. It was very much of a shock to you that when you were a girl verging on womanhood, your father brought you to the camps nearby forest and l taught you what it was you needed to do in any situation gone wrong. Compared to most fathers, It was a rare concern to hold, and yet you were considerably grateful for it years later when you were finally allowed to venture into the nearby villages alone, and found what it was exactly what some men did to women while they were on their own.

Your friends, all consisting of the daughters of other members of the community you grew up with, from what you could tell did not seem to have fathers who shared the same concerns as yours did. If anything, it was as if their fathers were fully prepared to give them away to the man who presented the best gift/reason, so he could intertwine his and their daughter’s familiar ties. Most fathers it seemed wanted to use their daughters as a way to better contribute to the community of travellers you all lived with.

Yet when you’d asked your friends on their opinion of the matter, they didn’t seem to care very much. If anything, they seemed a little too eager by the prospects of a marriage outcome like their parents to think of any possible repercussions of what could happen.

It had even become a game to the lot of you. Where one girl would name five random men, some belonging to the community some not, and a girl would need to list them in order of how much they’d want to marry them. It was what the lot of you were doing now whilst you all hung out round the back of one of the caravans, sitting wherever you could to avoid staining your clothes on the muddy floor. At the tender age of fifteen, giggling your hearts out as you all hoped for a future like your parents.

“Okay! Now you need to pick between…. Karl, Lee, Lucas, Jamerson and… Abraham!” One of your friends said, pointing to you to answer whilst you begin to mindlessly laugh with your mates. It was nice to do this. To be so close to girls you knew would be living practically next door to you for your whole life.

They all began to join in laughing loudly though as you proclaimed your preference name by name with a small smile. And when you got to the last name of the list, they’d looked shocked and gasped most loudly of all when Abraham’s name was spoken.

“But he’s so handsome!” One wide eyed girl had said.

Another chimed in, “Have you not seen his muscles? He helps my father with the log cutting and believe me when I say, those muscles were something else...”

“Of course I’ve seen him!” You say, sipping at some random drink that may or may not be yours. “He’s got the hair and personality of Elvis damn Presley!”

Like it had begun, the girls all began to giggle in unison once more. And when Missy Ferguson became raving about her dream man needing to be over six foot, laughter echoed and the cycle began all over again.

It had been nearly a year when you crossed paths with Abraham again.

Your father, now unable to physically help to provide for the family, took it upon himself to enlist the help of a fellow man in the community to do the tasks he himself was no longer able to do. Aka, chop the wood and help hunt the livestock.

He hadn’t told you of his decision, which is why you made such a shocked face when you heard a knock early one morning, opened the door, and found yourself face to face with Abraham. Who much to your appreciation, didn’t seem to show his reaction to your very poorly hidden gawking.

“Abe my boy!” Your father happily shouted from the kitchen table, not even giving you a clue as to what was possibly happening. Still, you step aside with your mouth practically hanging open and let Abraham in, finding yourself strangely timid over his sudden entrance into your home.

You quickly retreat back to your small room to allow the two men to talk, and yet the curiosity naws at you desperately when you hear the two usually stoic men laughing like the oldest pals in the world in your kitchen.

Your ears stay perked as you lay your head against the door. Annoyance bubbling within you as very few words could be made out.

Who knew such a shabby caravan has such great soundproof walls…. You muse, quickly stepping away to look busy as you hear footsteps come close to your door, before passing and opening the front door and closing it again soon after.

You peak your head out after couple minutes to be safe, and the first thing you see is your father with a hot cup of tea in his hands. A sigh falling from his lips as you make your way over to him.

“So what did he want.” You ask, adding a tea bag to a random old mug as you pour your own cup of tea with a smile.

“Nothing much bullet. I asked him to come over to ask him a favour or two, and the bloke accepted them.” Trust your father to give you no extra information. If only it was your mother who’d made the arrangement and talked to him. Then she’d be talking for Britain.

You give a small hum as an acknowledgement, and try to distract yourself by mindlessly sipping at the tea in your hands after pouring a splash of milk in.

Humming as you taste it, but only to burn your tongue and yell a loud swear not even a few seconds later.

“Always tell you to wait a minute...” Your father says, almost teasing you as he calmly sips his own tea. The smug thing…

“And I always ignore you!” You smile, allowing yourself to sink into the sofas comfy mismatched cushions beside him.

It’s strange, as whist you sip at your tea, your brain it seems cannot allow itself to stop thinking of Abraham, no matter how hard you try and think of something else.

What was it your father wanted from Abraham of all people? It was probably to help with chores he can’t do anymore, you thought. The injury he’d sustained earlier in the year making it so your father couldn’t do the hard labouring tasks as he used to anymore.

Hopefully you wouldn’t have to see him anymore though, you think, gulping the rest of your drink with vigour. Even though a minute later your gasping like you suddenly were about to breathe fire with how hot the tea was.

The afternoon of the next day, a knock rang through the whole home. And when you opened the door, to your surprise, you were greeted by four dead pheasants and a small rabbit hanging from a piece of string in Abrahams hands.

“I’ve got some wood to give you too, it’s down there beside me.” He grunts, seemingly unphased by your look at bewilderment that you cannot seem to be able to hide no matter how much you try.

“Thank you very much...” You choke, slightly disgusted by the sight of floppy carcasses as he hands the string that holds them all over to you, before stepping away to grab the medium stack of wooden logs by his legs that he now holds in front of you.

If you’re honest, you’re sort of in the deep end as you have no idea what to do. So you just put the animals where you can in the fridge for your father to hopefully deal with later, and awkwardly try to get the wood from his hold without directly touching him.

“I’ll be back in two days with some more logs, and in four days with more food.” He says, before leaving as quickly as he came. The sound of his boots hitting the muddy ground echoing loudly, excluding the sounds of your own inner thoughts that just scream utter nonsense at you. Abraham name loudest of all.

Abraham seemed to be a man of his word, as he came just like he said he would. On the second day of with a whole pile of wood in his arms, and on the fourth with more dead animals hanging by a string between his fingers.

You somehow managed to control yourself by answering with a simple nod and a small thanks, to which he’s begin to acknowledge with a distinct nod and leave soon as he came. Your mother however, when you’d pass her the items whenever she was home, always made sure to sing his praises for what he’d been doing recently.

“Oh what a good boy he is!” She praised whilst she began to prepare one of the many pheasants he’d brought for dinner that night.

“He’s a man mum, not a damn dog!” You snap whilst you cut up the potatoes into small pieces. You don’t know why you’re all of a sudden so spiteful towards him. Why should you? He’s only being treated like he’s all of a sudden your families favourite child for gods sake...

“Hey now! Watch that mouth young lady!” Your mum says, sending you a sharp look out the corner of her eye that already manages to send shivers down your spine. In her eyes, the discipline of a child never gets old, no matter how much they age.

“He’s doing us such a favour by helping your dad out! You know what, I think we should send him a home cooked pheasant pie as a thank you present! That boy sure needs a home cooked meal, I’m sure of it!”

You groan in annoyance, and it’s brought on with yet another sharp look, but joined with a quick yet sharp tap on your knuckles with her wooden spoon that makes sure to stop you quickly in your bad mood.

Though much to your annoyance, dinner was made and cooked not as slow as you’d like. As not even a couple minutes after you and your parents finished your dinner and placed the plates by the sink, your mother quick as a fiddle nipped to the freezer where she whipped out a smaller pheasant pie to place in your hands with an annoyingly smug smile.

“Make sure to tell him thank you from all of us!” She shouts, leaning on the edge of the doorframe still in her apron as she ushered you off to the direction of where Abraham lived. “And make sure to tell me when you get back exactly what he says when you give it to him!”

“Yes mum!” You answer back, practically grumbling with a face liked a rotten peach while you walk to the other side of the camp with the dish still in your hands.

The dish is still cold in your hands from being in the freezer, yet to your liking it seems to effectively bring your thoughts away from the man you’ll be quickly visiting. Away from the thoughts involving his eyes, that somehow have gotten bluer over the course of the years you went out of touch with him. Or his arms, that appear to have even more tattoos tattered on them from when you last properly looked at him at fifteen.

Before you even know it though, you’re at his door, knocking at it with the tip of your feet as you make sure not to drop the ceramic dish in your hands. If you did, you think you’d never hear the end of it from your mother.

Still, no matter how tightly you held it before, you almost find yourself dropping it either way when Abraham opens the door, and you find yourself face to face with his bare naked chest decorated in various ink in various places. The golden glint of his chain around his neck contrasting almost beautifully against his skin.

You can’t speak as an awkward silence manages to overwhelm you, while Abraham’s own face moulds into that a cheeky grin. You can feel your own face turning a deep shade of red as you realise he’s caught you gawking like an absolute idiot.

“We- I mean, my mum, made you a pie from some of the meat you brought us. A-as a thank you present for helping out with dad.” You stutter, thrusting the dish into his hands while he continues to grin almost spitefully at you. If there’s one thing you remember, it’s that he’s most certainly kept the same smugness from when the two of you were teenagers.

“Thanks pretty girl. I’ll see you in a couple days with another delivery.” Is all he says, turning to give you an almost teasing glimpse of his naked back, before using his own foot to shut the door behind him with a sharp slam.

You can’t find yourself able to move as you continue to stand on the steps like an idiot. Your feet feel as if they’re frozen, with your mouth somehow finding itself hanging slightly open, and your mind screaming at you only one thing.

Abraham has a tattoo on his fucking back.

It was a strangely delicate looking thing on his right shoulder blade. You couldn’t tell what it was with how quickly he moved away, but you could tell it was about the side of your palm. What it was supposed to be though, you can’t say, but you’re way too focused on the body itself rather than the tattoo to even think about it. You already knew he had some. He hadn’t exactly hidden them when he’d opened the door shirtless showing the ones he had on his arms and front of his body. Yet still, that tattoo on his back stood out to you compared to all the others. It looked almost delicate. Soft even.

But fuck. Why did he have to be so attractive now of all the times?

You walk back home confused. Yet soon as you get through your door you’re immediately bombarded with questions from your mother with her ever raging nosiness.

“He said thanks for the pie, not much else.” Is all you get out before you manage to shut your bedroom door behind you, your mother’s disappointed sigh somehow managing to make it through it. Even though somehow days ago you couldn’t even manage to make out Abraham and your father’s conversation in the room next door.

You fling yourself across the bed and in pure exhaustion lay on it face down. You shut your eyes and attempt to sleep the days confusion away from you, but you can’t. Abraham somehow manages to consume you whole without even trying.

At fifteen, to you, he had just been this cocky little shit who went round annoying all the girls with his smirk and his charm. The only time you’d seen him break the usual facade of cockiness was when he asked you to date him when the two of you were younger. It’d been an awkward thing even you had to admit, but you were practically still a kid at the time. So no particular grievances were exactly made from his change of heart when you rejected him. but it was for the best. It never would’ve worked out. Right? Besides, before you knew it, he’d moved on to some new, curvy looking girl from the nearby village.

Yet now…. now he’s oddly a man. A man with tattoos and such a sudden involvement in your life that it’s almost like a sort of slap on the face. And somehow it’s cause of your father of all people.

The only thing you manage to think off though, is what the hell are you going to do now…

[themurphyzone]

Better World AU: Separate Worlds: Shermie Pines Backstory

There are certain aspects of Separate Worlds I'm still working on, but I've finally written out my plans for Shermie Pines' backstory!

Shermie was born in 1950 out of wedlock. Filbrick and Caryn watched a movie together, they "snuggled", then Shermie was born. Filbrick and Caryn married to save face in the community, and the date on Shermie's birth certificate was altered to make it look like he was born one year after their marriage.

As a child, Shermie grew up with a love of baseball and was always playing casual games with his friends and collecting baseball cards. He once owned a rare autographed card from a New York Yankees player, but Filbrick took the card and pawned it off for a lot of money. Though they had an indifferent relationship to each other before, this event soured their relationship on Shermie's end. Shermie's childhood dream was to become a professional baseball player.

Shermie is close to Caryn and he helps when he can.

Shermie met his future wife Ruth in high school, while she was leading a small group in an Anti-Vietnam War protest. He happened to be passing by, saw her leading a chant from atop her perch, and thought she was pretty. But while he was debating joining the anti-war group for a chance to get closer to her (forgive him, he's a teenage boy), the police suddenly showed up to arrest her for disturbing the peace. The group scattered, and Shermie grabbed Ruth and together they ran for it. Thanks to his upbringing, Shermie knew the best way to evade the cops. Ruth thanked him for the rescue and gave him a kiss out of gratitude. They've been smitten with each other ever since.

Filbrick disapproved of Shermie and Ruth's relationship for her rebellious streak. Stan thought Ruth was awesome, and Ford was polite to her but thought her rebellious streak was kind of a problem. Caryn didn't like her at first, but warmed up to her and eventually gave her one of her own necklaces to wear for the wedding, which was then passed to her daughter-in-law, Rebecca, and will become part of Mabel's dream wedding outfit someday.

6. Shermie graduated in 1968, married Ruth shortly after, and they moved into a small apartment together. Shermie then worked as a local fisherman up until he was drafted in 1971 via lottery for the ground troops in Vietnam. By this time, Ruth was pregnant. But due to her anti-war activities in school, she was known to the police so although Ruth still didn't want him to go, Shermie chose to leave for Vietnam so the police wouldn't arrest her.

7. Their son, Jacob, was born while Shermie was overseas. Caryn helped Ruth with childcare so Ruth could work and support herself to distract her from worrying about Shermie.

8. Stanley is kicked out in spring of 1972. Shermie doesn't find out until after he gets home.

9. In Vietnam, Shermie's platoon was ambushed in the jungle. He was shot in the right leg and the injury is permanent. Shermie lost his best friend in the attack as well. Despite this, Shermie remained in Vietnam until US troops officially pulled out.

10. Filbrick, much like how many others viewed Vietnam War soldiers at the time, thought Shermie was an utter disgrace and believed he should have put more effort into fighting the enemy. This, along with the revelation of Stanley's exile from the family, permanently soured Shermie's relationship with Filbrick.

11. Shermie and Ruth struggled for a time, Shermie's mental health preventing him from being more attentive to Jacob no matter how much he wanted to be there in his life (Unlike Filbrick, he actually did his best). They eventually came to the conclusion that they needed to start all over, so they left New Jersey for California for a fresh beginning.

12. Shermie and Ruth settled in Vallejo, California, in the Bay Area just outside of San Francisco/Oakland. The house was cheap enough to afford and they managed to build themselves up again. Shermie and Ruth found new career paths with a local war museum and they started to work there together.

13. Shermie also dedicated time into searching for Stanley, tracking arrest records and stories of a red El Diablo that seemed to appear and vanish like the wind through the states.

14. Ford founds the Institute of Oddology in the 1980s alongside Fiddleford McGucket. Shermie has never been close to Ford, but the entire Pines family attended the opening ceremony, so he was there out of obligation along with Ruth and Jacob. He can't help but notice Stanley's absence.

15. After the ceremony, Shermie asks Ford about Stanley. That's when Ford...has a very strange, almost out of character reaction for a sophisticated scientist. He breaks down, violently, and the only word Shermie can make out is 'Alaska'. Fiddleford apologizes on Ford's behalf and leads him away.

16. Shermie's family visits Alaska, only telling others they're visiting a national park. They go every few years, and every time Shermie dedicates time to search for Stanley. By Dipper and Mabel's time, Shermie has figured out that Stan took a boat out to sea.

17. Only Ruth knows the full story of Shermie's search. To others, it just seems like they enjoy Alaskan cruises and national parks. Not even Jacob knows the full extent of what his parents are doing. But Shermie has the feeling that it might be best to keep their activities on the down low for now...

18. Filbrick dies in the 1990s of liver failure, sometime after the Institute opens and before Dipper and Mabel are born. Shermie plans and attends the funeral out of eldest son obligation and for his mother's sake.

19. Dipper and Mabel's birth brings the whole family together, even Ford takes the time to visit. Caryn cried the whole time when she held them in her arms, weakening from age.

20. Caryn dies when Dipper and Mabel are three years old. Ford refuses to attend the funeral, only coming by for a brief visit with the twins, then goes with Shermie to the cemetery after she's buried in the ground. Shermie has had enough of Ford's aloof behavior and they get into a huge argument at Caryn's grave, which culminates in Ford refusing to interact with the family for another decade. Despite this, Shermie still sends Ford pictures of the twins growing up.

21. Shermie highly disapproves of Dipper going to the Institute, but why? What's so bad about wanting to learn under the great Stanford Pines? The Institute is the pinnacle of humanity's achievements! There's no way it can be the source of destruction for their family...or the world.

[jestre]

As much as I love details, this would be a very long story to say what led to this, but the main thing is that I grew up not fitting into gender roles at all during my life, but I was told to accept the role (gender) I was born as. While it that led to denying myself from accepting what others didn't want me to be, I always about gender equality. As a kid, when it came down to anyone taking issue about clothing gender labels, I would say it's just different fabric or if you changed some things, it can be more gender neutral.

No matter what, I was afraid for so long to accept the possibility I could be transgender because a lifetime of poor judgement family or friends I had to educate on such issues. Subconsciously, I felt like it would be like getting crushed in a cave-in with any way out closed off to me because I would be an educator and a target for those I would try to teach to be better.

Some years ago, I have myself a chance finally to start exploring by openly identifying as non-binary for the duration. In the past several months, the feeling of "hating being [Zach]" came to a head, intensely. As many times as I would say "I wish I could look like her, I wish I could wear those types of clothes," I also hated the idea of being a guy or associated with them. "Because that's my gender role where I have to fit in."

I've been able to make friends on all ends of the gender spectrum and learn from them. Lots of observing, not much doing for myself because I would always put others first so they won't hate me in the end.

I have excellent friends and those who are transitioning/transitioned have been a major support while I started quietly opening up about this. I never wanted to ask if they thought I was trans because I needed to be the one to answer that question. Closest I asked was whether I act more feminine or masculine, and I'm right in the middle. XD

Last month, one of my close friends @jitterbugjive brought up that I should really see "I Saw The TV Glow" when I was really going back and forth with myself over what gender I was because I clearly felt like I had very few guy mannerisms that make up a brotherhood of guys feeling. I was just observing and improving my mask to be a funny guy with a lot of issues.

Once the mental lock about how I feared my gender had broken, I dropped into a depression that's been going for a few weeks now because the realization that I'm transgender turned my memories and feelings upside-down. Frow long it took to get there and hiding everything until then, I felt like the last horse to pass the line and would look like I'm copying transgender friends.

I finally see "I Saw The TV Glow" with Jitty/BDR because he offered when I felt like I was at the bottom with no direction. It's a very strong movie on how the trans experience feels. It brought back so many memories in my life that paralleled almost every major moment somewhere in the movie. As it went on, it felt like everything I ever felt and went through growing up because gender didn't matter to me and if I had to compare, I preferred hanging out with the girls because I shared a similar nature and loved to do more things with them than the constant action, sports, gaming, and loudness of boys. I even remember sneaking hanging out with a girl instead of the boy who lived nearby each other when I was a kid. I'm pretty sure my mom made me lose both of them as friends. They were both nice but something got between all of us when we had to lie about a boy and girl being together. "Oh no."

In that movie, I had a memory for almost every single scene and I didn't know if I felt seen or hollow. I felt like I had fucked up what I was right about in the first place and now I miss blurry friends I can barely remember over a 90s parent being a shit parent when it came to who I should hang out with and this lasted well into my early 20s.

I felt finally truly seen as I who I was before I was broken to obeying my gender at birth. It's like I want to change all those memories to what could have been if I was "stronger." It leaves me feeling so sad about how many times I had to be fake to fit in because it was all I knew or I would be punished by my parents. It makes me want to cry because everything I felt I went through was on display in a movie like the movie I saw.

The masks I wore became who I was as Zach and I knew it. Everyone could always see how awkward I was and I would constantly fix the mask to feel like I finally fit into conversations without feeling like someone who would never sync up to the words in a song. I never knew I could miss a life I could have had if I chose to stay on the feminine route. It's a "what have I done" guilty feeling, and I miss those I can hardly remember because of it. I could have made so many different choices. I am so sorry to them, and I would change so much if it meant I could have been happy from childhood on, and not childhood no further. I hope I can see those friends again somehow, and if not, hopefully in the afterlife. You are missed. It's not all my fault.

Old memories I never thought would get loosely reconnected, only to see when I had to cry my way into being Zach after being scolded after I knew gender doesn't block friendship and that I didn't want to be a boy. Zachary is who I was raised to be with a patchwork personality and good morals, not who I truly wanted to be from the start. He became a metaphorically glued on mask and I knew that, but I never got to know what was behind the mask before I was forced take it by society's hand.

Everything up to point as Zach has kept me and friends alive and if fate had it that way, it needed to be done. I could keep Zachary as a hyphenated middle name with my current middle name, Lee.

To find the old and new, I accept what led to this point and I'm grateful to all of those I've known through this point in time. I need to let Zachary have his rest from everything he put in by needing him as my self. Talking in 3rd person may look silly here, but it's because the amount of masking may as well have been a dissociative identity just to act normal.

For a while, I have been considering if I came out as male to female, that I would continue with the name I enjoy with my online name, Jestre. That same mentioned friend linked about pretty much helped solidify the name that feels most right being, Jessie. (I was considering Jessy because that was the normal nickname, but ultimately I had to stop stopping myself out of self acceptance to find authenticity I could never nail down.)

There's a lot more to this, but this is what I felt needed to be said to finally find myself and explain feeling body dysmorphia. If this means I can feel natural and not rapidly switch to a defense, I will finally know who I was meant to be. Now to allow myself a new, formal introduction.

Hi, I'm Jessie. I'm transgender, male to female. I'm quiet but I share love a lot.

[dannystattoo]

august

chapter 1 - "i can see us lost in the memory"

you didn't plan on spending your summer fixing up your family's old cabin, but you also didn't plan on reconnecting with your childhood crush for the summer. based on august by taylor swift

Pairing: Danny Wagner x fem reader

Warnings:  Some language, but that's about it

Spending the summer after your senior year of college helping maintain your grandparents’ cabin was not what you’d anticipated upon graduating. While you wouldn’t say you were ready to tackle job hunting just yet, you would have preferred to have at least been able to stay in the college town with all of your friends for a couple more months. You’d have loved to at least have a last hurrah before you all inevitably moved on to whatever was next. Life had a way of happening though. Your grandfather passed away in the winter and a lot had changed. Your grandma wasn’t able to live on her own, so she had moved in with your family for the time being. Your parents were also trying to figure out what to do with the cabin your grandparents had purchased decades ago. It was your grandpa’s pride and joy, and he would never let anyone sell it even if he’d barely been able to use it in the last few years. The rest of your family, grandma included, couldn’t care less about keeping the property in the family, Since you and your siblings all moved out of the house and didn’t have the opportunity to visit much anymore, they decided it was best to sell the house. However, it needed a lot of TLC before it could go on the market and you’d gotten roped into spending your summer taking care of the property. You cursed yourself for learning so many DIY skills in college when your friends had insisted on renting the shittiest house possible your sophomore year, as well as for being the golden child who couldn’t draw boundaries with your parents no matter how hard you tried. 

…and that was how you found yourself looking around this house, wondering how the hell you were going to have it ready to list by August, in three months. Your dad offered to come up and help when he could on weekends and you did have a list of contractors your grandparents had previously used who could help with the things you weren’t able to do, but you were mostly on your own. You tried to remind yourself that his would give you the opportunity to save up some money since you weren’t paying rent and your family would be paying you for your work on the house. This would also give you time to polish your resume and work on perfecting your design portfolio, hopefully allowing you to move somewhere better than the sleepy midwest town you grew up in or the slightly less sleepy city you went to college in. Your ultimate goal was New York City, but you were aiming for Chicago right now. All things considered, though, the thought of a summer spent more or less by yourself doing a stupid amount of manual labor made the thought of living in the city in cramped apartment with multiple roommates and eating ramen for every meal sound appealing. 

It had probably been about five years since you’d spent any sizable amount of time here, and that was around the same time your family started doing the bare minimum maintenance on the place. They’d also done the bare minimum when it came to cleaning, so you spent the entire morning making one of the bedrooms and one of the bathrooms clean and comfortable enough to get you through the first few days. Once you finished that, you started trying to make a game plan, but you became overwhelmed pretty quickly. Realizing it was nearing one in the afternoon, you decided to drive into town, pick up some fast food and take a break. You weren’t able to find much, but there was a Taco Bell within a reasonable driving distance. You returned home with your Nachos Bell Grande and a massive Baja Blast, hoping that would push you to have a productive evening. It was a beautiful day out, so you took you lunch out to the dock. The gate that led down to the water’s edge was a bit rusted and hard to open, but once you got it, you remembered why you loved coming here so much as a kid. Admittedly, once you looked past the state of the house and the yard, it was gorgeous out here. You were steps away from the lake, which had a tiny private sandy beach at its edge. Trees and plants in full bloom surrounded the lake, and you always loved the glow of the sun off the water. You told yourself that if you got through a clearing the clutter in the rooms you, your siblings, and cousins had shared as kids that day, you’d reward yourself with a glass of wine and a night spent on the patio with your designs. The change in scenery was inspiring you in a way you hadn’t expected. Looking at the nearby houses, you tried to remember all the kids you’d met here over the years. They were all fleeting friendships, lasting for only one week in the summer over the 4th of July and picking up the next year, depending on who returned and when. You’d met these kids well before social media, and you had no idea what happened to any of them after losing contact. You start thinking about them, wondering where life had taken everyone after those golden summers. 

Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t notice that someone had appeared from the cabin next-door and they were walking down towards the water. 

“I had no idea they sold this place,” the voice said as it came up behind you. Startled, you turned around to see a man approaching you. He looked like he was about your age, maybe slightly older. You could tell from his tan skin he probably spent a lot of time outside, giving the impression of someone else who might be spending the summer here. Based on appearances alone, that was something you could get on board with. You couldn’t overlook the fact he was gorgeous - you were immediately drawn to his intense eyes and radiant smile, and the fact his was absolutely ripped didn’t hurt matters.

“Because they didn’t,” you laughed. “Granted, it’s barely been used in at least five years, but yeah, haven’t sold yet.”

“Well that’s good, I always like the people who lived here.”

“You knew them?” you were taken by surprise. 

“Oh yeah, my family owns the place next door. I’m Danny, by the way.”

“Y/N,” you said. The longer you looked at him, you began to think he looked vaguely familiar. “This is gonna sound weird, but we’ve met before haven’t we?”

“You have two older sisters and your family was always here the week of the 4th of July, right?”

“Yeah. You have a younger sister and you were also always here for the 4th of July?” As Dnny confirmed this, it all came flooding back to you. 

He was part of the group of about a dozen of you who lived on this street that you’d just been thinking about. He was, in fact, a few years older than you, but you seemed to remember his younger sister was around your age. You also remembered you’d had a hugely embarrassing crush on Danny that resurfaced every year. God, you’d forgotten about him completely, as it had been ten years since you’d seen him, more since you’d seen him with any sort of regularity at the cabin. You remembered it all with clarity now. 

He was three years older than you, and by the time you were eleven and he was fourteen, he started hanging out with the group less and less. Fair enough, he was a teenager, but it didn’t hurt any less. You’d always thought he was cute and he was the only boy in the group who was always nice to you. Looking back, he treated you like a little sister, but you didn’t see it that way then. You remembered the summer you were twelve and he was fifteen when he and another one of the older girls in the group stopped hanging out with you as frequently, only showing up at events where the entire family was present. You’d been devastated when you’d accidentally stumbled upon them making out in her room at a barbecue you’d all been at. By the next summer, you were convinced that because you were thirteen and a full fledged teenager, he’d finally be interested in you. Much to your dismay, he hadn’t even come up north that year, opting to stay home in order to spend more with his friends instead. It was only a couple more years before you stopped spending long stints there in the summer. You realized how much you’d forgotten about your time here.

“So what brings you back?” Danny’s question brought you back from your nostalgia. 

“Well, my grandpa passed away over the winter -“ 

“Oh shit, i’m sorry.”

“Thank you. It wasn’t unexpected, but still. Anyway, my family is actually planning to sell now and I somehow got roped into coming out here for the summer to fix it up and get it ready to put on the market. You live in one shitty house that forces you to learn handy skills and they use it against your for the rest of your life,” you laughed.

“What, by yourself?”

“Not entirely, my dad is coming up to help me out when he can and we will need to hire people to do some of the more complicated projects. But yeah, mostly.” You were kicking yourself the moment you said it. Way to go, Y/N, you thought to yourself. You don’t know the first thing about this guy anymore and he could be a crazed serial killer for all you knew. 

“Anyway, I could ask you the same thing,” you shifted the attention back to him.

“Honestly, I don’t know. Getting away, I guess? I’ve been so stuck with work lately and I thought a change of scenery might be good. Don’t ask why my first inclination was to come here, but it was.”

“By yourself?”

“For now. Three of my friends, more like my brothers actually, are planning to come up in a few weeks and spend most of the summer. They may be going back and forth between here and home a bit more than me though.”

“Where do you live?”

“Nashville.” 

“That’s so cool, I unfortunately didn’t get to go far for college and I was so lucky to move back to my hometown in Michigan after graduation. I’m hoping to save up some money over the summer so I can start looking to move. Enough about me, what is it you do for work?” You were intrigued when he said he was “uninspired”, wondering if he did something creative too.

“Uh, musician,” he said running  his hand through his dark curls. You could tell he assumed you’d react a certain way.

“No shit, that’s sick! What kind of music?”

“I’m in a rock band, drummer. I know it probably sounds kind of lame, but we’ve actually released a few single, and EP, and we just got a contract for our first full record. As exciting as all of that is, I’m having a hell of a time getting anything written to contribute to it. Decided I’d come here for a little bit first by myself, and then the guys are gonna join me in a couple weeks. I thought maybe getting out of the city would help. Plus the lease on my place was up last week and the house I’m set to move into isn’t available September 1st.”

“Well, I don’t think that’s lame at all. I’m trying to break into design, so I kind of get it.”

“Oh really, what kind?”

“My dream would be fashion, it was my main area of focus in school, but I’ve also been building by graphic design portfolio to have something more ‘practical’, as my parents would say.”

“I get that, I’m sure you can imagine my parents were just thrilled when I said I had no desire to go to college right after graduating high school.”

“Sounds like you’re doing great anyway,” you shrugged. You guys talked comfortably for quite a bit longer, catching up on the past ten years. It was nice to have found a friend so early on, at least you hoped you’d found a friend. Danny was so easy to talk to and you felt an effortless connection, even if you hadn’t seen him in a literal decade. Eventually, you picked up your phone, sitting abandoned on the table, and you didn’t like the time.

“Oh god, how is it already three? I’m so sorry, but I should probably go, I have so much work to do,”

“Honey, you have all summer,” Danny said. You wouldn’t admit that your stomach flipped when he called you that. Fuck, were you attracted to him now, still? 

“You’re right, but you have no idea how much I have to do.”

“Can I help with anything? I know I didn’t come here for home renovation projects, but you could persuade me, I think.” 

“I would actually really appreciate that, if only for the company. Tell you what, my main goal for the day was to start cleaning out some of the bedrooms, if you’d want to help? When we make some good progress, maybe we can grab dinner? Like I said, even if it’s just for the company and an accountability buddy.”

“I’d love that. Honestly, I’ve only been here like two days and I’m going insane in my own company. I was so hung up on the idea of taking a solitary trip to work that I forgot I’m an extrovert.” You smiled at him, grabbed your Taco Bell remains, and led him into the house.

“Not to be rude, but you weren’t kidding,” Danny said, looking around the house. 

 “Yeah, it’s so, so bad. We’ve hardly been up here since like, 2017, what with life and school and work, and that was around the time my grandparents weren’t able to come up here by themselves anymore. I think my parents did just enough maintenance so that the neighbors wouldn’t lose their minds.” 

“Gives me an excuse to offer my services around here a lot then?” 

“I think that sounds perfect,” you smiled, leading Danny to the bedroom you and your sisters shared years ago. Before you could stop yourself, you caught yourself thinking that you’d love to be taking him back to your room under much different circumstances. You couldn’t believe that you were down bad for this guy yet again, hours after seeing him for the first time in a decade.

To be continued

[nobodyimportant41]

Bo Burnham's legacy challenge

(God, wth im writing)

Ehm- yeah...i was looking inspo for another legacy challenge on my spotify when i realized that i basically only hear Argentinan or Uruguayan music...and i'm pretty sure that here not many people known them- So i decided to go for Bo's songs!

And yeah, if you for some reason think about it, it was also inspired by "Perspective of god" ("you're not my children, you're a bad game of sims")

WARNING:

If you heard Bo's songs, you will know that there are some "spicy" or not kid friendly topics, so, if you're under 18 or sensitive, you may not read this one.

General rules:

Heirs don't have to ressemble their song with their name, but you can do it if you want

No cheats unless it for storytelling purposes

You can play in any lifespan, but i recommend playing it in normal

The order of the generations is for storytelling purposes, not their release order

If you don't have a certain pack, you can change some goals for the most similar

Packs:

Ep: Be famous (gen 1,2,7 and 8), Highschool years (gen 2), Cats and dogs (gen 6), City living (gen 7 and 10/2), Get together (gen 7), Snowy escape (gen 10/1)

Gp:Parenthood (gen 3)

Sp: Movie night stuff (gen 8), paranormal (gen 5)

Gen 1; Repeat stuff:

Story:You were always good looking,so, you grew up without problems since everything was made from others for you! But, as an adult you realize that because you didn't did anything, you don't KNOW anything... so you decide to go for a singer way! The only thing that matters is that your hot, right?

Traits:

Self centred

Lazy

Music lover

Goals:

Complete the musical genius aspiration

Max the entertainment career (musician branch)

Max the piano and singing skills

Leave someone at the altar

Record at least 5 romantic songs

Woohoo with the grim reaper at least once

Gen 2; white woman's instagram:

Story: Being the kid of one of the most famous singers in the simnation, OF COURSE that you wanted to follow that path of having a "perfect life!" After all, the only hard part will be convince your spouse to take some selfies with you...

Traits:

Self centred

Mean

High mantience

Goals:

Complete the world famous celebrity aspiration

Become a simfluencer

Max the photography and charisma skills

Marry someone you hate

Use social media at least once a day

Gen 3; 1985:

Story:Your parents didn't loved eachother, but your parent's (gen 2) followers thought the exact opposite. Thats why you always preferred your other parent since they were a lot more honest; maybe too much..

As a young adult, your biggest dream is having kids and mostly, educate them!

Traits:

Family oriented

Perfeccionist

Neat

Goals:

Complete the super parent aspiration

Max the parenting and cooking skill

Be a stay at home parent

Have at least 3 kids and became friends with all of them

Only use the strict options to disipline your kids

Gen 4; Lower your expectations:

Story: Your parent always told you that you weren't able to date until they passed away which were very tragic news for you; How are you getting married with that?! At least when you were a kid, you had to only conform with writing romance books... but as a rebelious teen, you thought of dating your crush, it was only a little secret that will never be revealed, right?...

Traits:

Romantic

Creative

High maintenance

Goals:

Complete the soulmate aspiration

Max the charisma and writing skills

Work as a freelance writer

Have at least 5 partners, but break up with all of them, since they aren't perfect like you would like

Get married and see your first spouse die

Marry your soulmate as an elder

Gen 5;K!ll yours3lf:

Story: Your parent always told you about how "bad" their partners were, so you started thinking that people were cruel by nature (except for you, or at least that was what you said) so you started reading about occults and you REALLY liked it! You even decided that, for when you were an adult, you will EVEN interact with people! Not because you liked them, but because you wanted to ghosthunt in people's houses!

Traits:

Loner

Mean

Erratic

Goals:

Complete the master of mischief aspiration

Max the paranormal and mischief skills

Work as a paranormal investigator

Live your whole life in a haunted house

Your only friend AND spouse must be a ghost

Live as a ghost after passing away

Gen 6; Poems:

Story: Since you were a young kid you knew your social life was quite dead since you were born because, well...one of your parents is a ghost and the other one is a freak who LOVES ghost... yeah..you knew that having friends was way too hard so you didn't even tried it; all you needed was a dog and a computer to write your... VERY original poems...

Traits:

Socially akward

Dog lover

Slob

Goals:

Complete the best seller author aspiration

Max the writing and pet training skills

Max the writer career (any branch)

When you unlock the option, ONLY write poems

Have at least two dogs

Gen 7; Welcome to the internet:

Story: You knew that you were considered a weird one, but, unlike your parent, you REALLY WANTED to be famous, so you decided that, as soon as you were able to, create a simtube account and upload your FANTASTIC vlogs about your amazing life and someday, show your classmates that you were an spectacular and perfect sim!

Traits:

Self centred

Outgoing

Goofball

Goals:

Complete the leader of the pack aspiration

Max the tech guru career (Esports player branch)

Max the video making and charisma skills

Have a celebrity club

Become at least a three stars celebrity

When you moved out of your house, never talk with your parent/s never again

Gen 8; Microwave popcorn:

Story: When you were a kid, you spend most of your time watching movies with popcorn in your hands. You couldn't help it but love it! After all, cooking and mostly acting were two thing that you loved!

As an adult, you could finally enter the acting career! It was thanks to your parents fame.. but you still wanted to become the next Judith Ward!

Traits:

Glutton

Ambicious

Slob

Goals:

Complete the master actor/actress aspiration

Max the acting career

Max the singing and acting skills

Gain the junk food lifestyle

Win at least three awards for your job

Gen 9; Whats funny:

(This is quite inspired by the pink gen of the Not so Berry challenge, so this gen is not 100% original!)

Story: You grew up in a quite conservative household, so you wanted to get married to a nice person and have beautiful children; you didn't cared about your job, you could work in a simple 9-5 office work to maintain them! Except, EVERYTHING went wrong, you ended up fighting everyday with your spouse, your kids were ungrateful and only cared about their partners and you didn't even cared anymore for your job, maybe you could try pursue your dream?

Traits:

Family oriented

Perfeccionist

Goofball

Goals:

Complete the jokestar aspiration

Work in the bussiness career but quit it after having your midlife crisis and then max the entertainment career (comedian branch)

Max the comedy skill

Get married and have twins

Max your relationship both of your kids

Gen 10; Left brain, Right brain:

Ok, to make this challenge more "special" i decided to do something quite weird; there are two "branches" of the last gen, in other words; you can choose if you want to play with the left brain or the right brain! (Or both, if you hate yourself)

Gen 10/1; Left brain:

Story: You always thought that your twin was quite a dumb one; they just wanted to play and watch hot people on tv all day! You wanted to be one in life, but there was so many things you wanted to do...but you will fight to have a family and a great job! You decided to move to Mt. Komorebi for your job; a salary person! Since you will LOVE to become a CEO! and also karaoke nights...

Traits:

Perfeccionist

Materialist

Genius

Goals:

Complete the fabulously wealthy aspiration

Max the salary person career

Max the singing and logic skills

Have at least one kid with all the positive character values

Marry someone in the following careers: Salary person, politician or business career

Gen 10/2;Right brain:

Story: You always thought that your twin was super cool! You didn't share much with them, but you admire how smart they were and mostly, they knew what they wanted while you...ehm...you only knew you wanted to become everybody's friend, but you didn't even know what you were going to work as...but you will figure it out!

Traits:

Childish

Romantic

Art lover

Goals:

Complete the city native aspiration

Work selling your paintings at home until becoming an adult and max the painter career (any branch)

Max the painting and charisma skills

Have max relationship with at least 5 persons (excluding your family) and become best friends with your twin

Have twins...twice

[sparrowandbee]

The Sparrow: Chapter 1 Haymitch Abernathy x Marian Cartwright

Synopsis: Marian Cartwright has survived six reapings, but her luck runs out on the 68th year of the Capitol's Hunger Games. Out of hope or ambition, Marian shares an odd interaction with the mentor, Haymitch Abernathy. She wonders why this stranger cares so much and just how far she will go to entertain his hope.

2763 words

Masterlist

-

I must begin this account at the point where my second life began. The event that changed me from a nameless, faceless girl into a new woman. I couldn’t have even begin to imagine on that July day what would have become of me.

The sun was beating down on my face as we stood shoulder to shoulder, the smell of coal perpetually lingering on my loose curly hair and ever-blackened hands. Despite the few clouds obstructing the clear blue sky, even the sunshine couldn’t change the dirty grey landscape of District 12. The inescapable soot made everything dimmer… even the sunshine, somehow.

It was my seventh reaping and the lingering dread no longer shocked me as it did in the years before.  My name was written in 21 times, not enough to be a real threat- the slips of paper mingled with each other in the glass orb just a few feet from me- but I’d been around long enough to know that it didn’t really matter how many names anyone had in there; the Capitol’s cruelty knew no fairness. I had seen kids as young as 12 and as old as 17 be chosen and met with the same fate. Whether they stepped up in tears or in confidence, they all ended up in the same place: a nationally televised corpse.

I looked around at the girls standing with me and recognized a few of them from other reapings. There were two who wore a new dress every year, their black hair always in pretty updos. They would giggle and whisper to each other and I’d always caught different boy’s names being tossed around.

To my left were a few girls I’d seen around the mines before, dropping food off for their fathers and brothers, probably. They had always been a quiet trio but held on to each other for the entirety of the event, their knuckles getting bone-white as they squeezed their thin, pale hands. 

Each of us inhabited a different world within the same small district, but we were united by each July 4th, seeing each other’s faces grow longer and more adult, beating the odds by returning every year, despite the Capitol’s desire to exterminate us. Our own tiny resistance. I didn’t know their names or families but I did know that we somehow always came back, every year, and we grew despite the hunger and strife.

The reaping was so quiet when we were 12.

I remember no one dared even whisper. But at 18, everyone acted as though this was just another bureaucratic inconvenience. As a lot of us had started to face real struggles in the latter years of our childhood, the Games just got more distant… more arbitrary. We had real things to worry about now.

I scanned my surroundings out of both habit and boredom. Frankly, most girls looked the same- mousy hair and sunken faces. From the far end of the field I spotted the braided blonde hair of Evaline Wergeld, daughter of a butcher I’d been avoiding since he caught me stealing. My head snapped back to avoid making eye contact, just as my stomach let out a loud rumble.

No one turned around, of course.

Hunger was as much part of District 12’s soundscape as the song of the mockingjays overhead or the rustling of the trees against the breeze. It wasn’t anything to be noticed, particularly not from the scrawny orphan girl. 

I was too busy worrying about whether I’d be able to scrap enough coins to eat something at night rather than entertain the thought of being picked out of hundreds of girls- especially since it was my last year being eligible.

I had survived 18 years of struggle and self-sufficiency, needing nothing and being noticed by no one. This too would come and pass, like everything else before it, I thought as I stood in the barren yard amidst the other grim girls of District 12.

The mayor began the process with a tedious speech no one paid attention to. Instead I tried to get the coal dust out from under my short, bare fingernails.

“Welcome all and happy Hunger Games!,” the overexcited Capitol representative with voluptuous, undulating red hair exclaimed into the microphone, causing uncomfortable feedback. I don’t remember her name. We got a new presenter nearly every year- no one wanted to be stuck in 12.

I shifted in my newly stolen shoes, not quite broken in yet and uncomfortable. It was strange to be this close to the stage, just three rows away from the well-groomed people and the stately banners on the stage which always seemed so distant from the barren landscape. “And as always, may the odds be ever in your favour!” Her Capitol inflexion grated my ears as the wind caught one of the many ruffles on her flowy white dress.

As they did every year, a propaganda video was broadcast on the large screens on either side of the field.

As we did every year, everybody ignored it, preferring to fiddle with braids or straighten a washed-out floral dress.

I looked down and traced the outline of the delicate butterflies on my once-purple shift dress. It was the only dress I owned, and despite its tattered state, it was the most beautiful thing to me.

“What a wonderful message from our President Snow!” I looked up to see the announcer smiling widely, showing her blindingly white teeth through her orange lipstick.

“Now we will select one brave young man and woman who will have the honour of representing District 12 in the 68th Hunger Games!” She paused, clearly expecting applause. I sighed, not caring enough to roll my eyes. Rent was due in two days and I couldn’t be evicted again. I may be able to steal some food from the bakery so I can make it in time; everyone seemed to get distracted during the Games.

“Okay, ladies first!” Everything from her mouth was an abundant exclamation, and her words still echoed as her white heels ‘clicked’ and she reached her hand into the large glass bowl. The world went still; I’ve never experienced silence like the reaping, as if everybody’s heartbeats were suspended in unison.

Worry flickered through me then. As much as I tried to reassure myself, to convince myself of the contrary, the threat was so present, looming over the heads of every child on the field. It didn’t matter how much you joked beforehand or ignored the pomp and circumstance. As she dipped her gloved hand into the bowl, it consumed me all at once. My stomach hurt not out of hunger for once, but anxious nausea. No one was ever safe.

“And our lucky tribute is…” She stepped back in front of the polished silver microphone, her glittery red and orange eye makeup glistening against the artificial lights as she looked down to read the slip of paper, “Marian Cartwright!”

My name echoed through the yard. My heart dropped as my veins ran with ice, despite the sweat dripping on my brow. The girls standing next to me looked around, not recognizing the name of an invisible orphan.

Seven years and for the last time of course I was made to pay for my survival- a cruel karmic trick for the girl who has nothing to live for.

Fitting. Poetic, even.

The girls around me retreated, probably realizing that I was the only one none of them identified. Slowly, they all held onto each other and moved back, creating a bubble around me, as if they would catch my bad luck if they stood too close.

In my 10 years of solitude, I’ve never felt more isolated, more judged or pitied- or perceived.

I looked up to the screens and found my face already projected on the stage. The announcer never let her smile slip and I cautiously walked towards her, flanked by two peacekeepers. My blood rushed at an inhuman speed, fueled by my anxiety and fear, feeling like every step was taken against my will.

The stage lights were brighter up close than they looked from the floor. The announcer gestured her red gloved hand for me to step towards her. I couldn’t stop looking at the texture left by her thick, pale makeup. I could make out every wrinkle and crack on the surface which looked so flawless from the floor.

I looked down at the worn brown leather Mary Janes. I didn’t want to see anyone in the crowd, not because I particularly cared about them but because I couldn’t stand their pitiful looks.

Pity from people who never bothered to help.

“Alder Oakley!” I looked up to see the male tribute making his way to the stage, fear so clearly coloured his face. I tried to keep my gaze withdrawn until he stood next to me, to retain some dignity on his walk of shame.

He smelled fresh and clean when he stood next to me. He could probably afford those oils sold on the road near the butcher’s. His button-up shirt was off-white and neatly pressed, the seams were all intact, a tell of light wear.

So he had some money to spare, but really, he looked like every other District 12 boy. A bit of musculature from a childhood preparing to work in the mines and a clean-shaven face. There was a bit of dirt on his hair, he was probably cutting wood for the stove that morning.

He took my hand in his as the announcer exclaimed our names: “Marian Cartwright and Alder Oakley, your District 12 tributes!” but I kept my eyes down, with no intention of playing along.

With that, my fate was sealed with only the certainty of my imminent death.

-

My memory after the reaping is hazy. I was quickly ushered by a number of faceless peacekeepers into the inaptly named Hall of Justice, which housed a level of opulence unseen in the streets of the district.

I was numb. This was a scenario I couldn’t barter or run my way out of. It was simply the end of a difficult and mostly unremarkable life. 

I couldn’t even cry, there was nothing to cry over.

I sat alone in a small wood-panelled room where the peacekeeper had informed me that family and friends were supposed to say their goodbyes. I looked up at the crystal chandelier delicately cascading from the ceiling. The dainty beads mingled with the gloomy sunlight streaming in from the window behind me as I listened to the anguished cries of a woman in the room next door.

At least I wouldn’t cause anyone any pain when I was gone.

I flinched as the sobbing outside intensified. No one would mourn, no one would hurt.

The dark wooden door squeaked as it opened, but instead of another aleatory grey-donned peacekeeper, I was met by the icy grey eyes of Haymitch Abernathy. I recognized the frizzy blond hair of the former Victor, a bit overgrown as it dragged past his jaw.

He stumbled into the room, closing the door behind him.

He won the 50th Hunger Games and was the only surviving District victor, but I knew him mostly in passing as the perpetually drunk guy who would often sway into the Hobb for bottles of alchol.

He almost tripped making his way to the grey cushioned bench where I sat. Even when we win, we lose, I thought. This was our glorious victor- a dishevelled, bumbling drunk. He slumped next to me and leaned against the wall, pulling out a silver flask from the pocket of his black blazer.

I was unsure what to say as I studied his worn face. He took a deep swig from his flask, glugging down the foul-smelling liquid. I was pretty sure it wasn’t standard practice for a mentor to visit a tribute this early, but I wouldn’t deny myself some amusement now.

“Okay,” he slurred out, as if he were correcting my confused stare, “I don’t normally do this but I’ve seen you around the Hobb, and that Alder kid has more than enough support.”

He was so clearly drunk. I’d gotten good at recognizing liquor from so many roomshares and nights on the street in a District with an abundance of miserable men. It was the smell which tinted each memory of my mother, after all.

“My advice?” He asked rhetorically, “Start drinking now. You want some?” He held out the flask.

I took it hesitantly, feeling its cool, smooth surface as I ran my fingers across his most prized possession. I held the dainty nozzle against my nose and it stung my eyes. Without thinking too hard, I tipped my head back and swallowed. My brows instantly furrowed as the alcohol scorched all the way down. I coughed and handed the flask back to him, standing up to try to shake off the heat.

I heard Haymitch’s baritone chuckle from the bench. “What? You’ve never had liquor?”

I shook my head between coughs.

“Seriously? They told me you were eighteen. You’ve never drank?”

I shook my head again and swallowed some saliva to try to ease the sting. “No,” I replied as I composed myself, now a bit embarrassed at the whole scene. “It’s always been either money for food or liquor,” I explained, facing him now, “And I’d much rather be caught for stealing food.”

He hummed in agreement and fished into his blazer pocket again, this time pulling out some sort of flaky pastry wrapped in thin paper and held it out to me.

For the first time in my life, I refused food. My stomach was in knots and I feared I would just throw up anything that dared enter it.

“No, thank you,” I replied, unable to even look at the greasy paper, “I can’t even fathom eating right now.”

“My real advice?” He replied, putting away the pastry, “Eat. You’ll need as much fuel as you can get to keep you going in the Games.”

I actually laughed at that sentence.

A pause.

He was serious.

“You think I’m gonna win?” I sat next to him and outlined it for him as though he was a child, “The poor girl from District 12 with no prospects or motivation winning the Hunger Games? No," I sighed, “besides, I have no real skills,” I outlined it for him.

“Can you hold a knife? Can you point it at someone? You have skills. I’m sure you have skills” He slurred out, still looking down and swinging the liquid in his flask carelessly.

I rolled my eyes. We were both adults. We both knew that the odds were definitely not in my favor. The odds were never in our favor. Some kids trained their whole lives to kill kids like me.

It was a spectacle, but I was not a performer. Nor did I want to be.

“You and I both know it’s more than that. It’s about survival and sponsors and combat. It’s about being able to take someone else’s life.”

“Don’t assume what I know,” he growled back and looked at me, holding my gaze in his eyes, “I went to the games. I know what it’s like. You don’t.”

“No, not yet. But they can’t force me to either. I don’t have to know,” I perked up, thinking I had a moment of enlightenment, “There are bombs in the arena, right? Under those start platforms? I mean, that’s got to be better than being hacked apart by a career.”

Haymitch shook his head and took another sip. “You jump off and you give them what they want: submission. You're gonna fight. Fight to survive despite what they expect.”

I sighed and looked away, unable to face the dim glimmer of hope behind his eyes. There was a dangerous genuineness in his words, one which I couldn’t confront then.

“Why do you even care? Why are you even here? I mean, you haven’t exactly been the mentor of the year, have you? Every single kid in my shoes has died- 2 every year for 17 years. Why are you going out of your way for me? Why convince me to try? Me, who has nothing and no one to live for?”

Haymitch opened and closed his mouth, opting against a rebuttal. Instead, he stood up and sighed, taking one last swig of the flask before walking towards the door.

“See you on the train,” were his last words to me as the heavy door slammed behind him.

-

Next Chapter

[practically-an-x-man]

your OCs are invited/challenged to do something like Naked & Afraid: who agrees? what would it take for any of the others to agree?

Ooooh, interesting! Thank you!

Rae: On the one hand, she's always down for a new adventure and there's very few things she wouldn't try at least once. On the other hand, she doesn't have much survival training and wouldn't be thrilled about having her uncovered body just broadcast on television, so I really can't tell with her. It really depends on the timing of it and how she feels about it.

Robin: Pass. Really not her thing. She's never been much of a wilderness person, there's a lot of risk just... for fun? Without much real gain? She'd do her best with wilderness survival if it really mattered, like for her genuine safety or survival, but I can't see her signing up just for fun. She has opera rehearsals to get to!

Madison: Wilderness survival is kind of her thing, and the premise of the challenge would absolutely intrigue her. She's not thrilled about the "naked" part, especially since the premise of the show is that your survival partner is a stranger (I think she'd be more likely to sign up for Alone than Naked & Afraid), but I could definitely see her enjoying a challenge like that. Hell, she lived like that for five years!

Ophelia: Absolutely not. She's always been a city girl, she'd hate to be without technology for longer than a few days, and that's not even accounting for her bad knee and the challenges that would prove. I could see her researching some survival tips just in case, but she's definitely not signing up for the show.

Gia: Absolutely not. You think the girl who can barely leave her home due to intense unresolved anxiety issues is going to spend three weeks in the middle of nowhere without even clothes to wear? She'd probably laugh in your face if you suggested it, but she wouldn't want to be rude.

Jasper: Hm... another tough one. They grew up out in the bayou (the boonies, as they'd say) and have been camping a few good times, so brushing up on those survival skills wouldn't take too much, but... the whole "naked and afraid" concept wouldn't be great for their dysphoria, especially on camera, and they'd rather be back at their warm, cozy apartment with Kyle and their pets

Kestrel: Oh, in a heartbeat. Like Madison, wilderness survival is a big tenet to who they are and they'd excel at the challenge. Really, the hardest part would just be remembering not to shapeshift or use magic on camera.

Katherine: Eh, no thanks. It's an interesting premise, but really not within her interests or capabilities. She wouldn't mind trying out for some game show or other TV show, but it wouldn't be a survival show

Quinn: Nope. Similar to Ophelia's, really - the combination of living her whole life in an urban setting and just physically not being fit for a hardcore survival situation like that.

Eris: Sure, why not? It's been a while since they've been in the thick of true wilderness survival, but he won't shy away from a good challenge (and you know she wouldn't be at all self-conscious about the "naked" part lol). Honestly, I could see him trying to get Rick in on it too, like Eris' weird idea of a couple's retreat lmao

Nikoletta: Hard pass. She's never been a wilderness kind of person, she has no interest in learning, and especially not now. She's finally at the point in her life where she is comfortable and safe, why would she give that up just for some gimmicky show? No thanks. She'd rather be safe at home, cuddled up with Abner and the cats.

Jimmy: Disqualified for being a ghost, there's no point.

Vivienne: Disqualified bc TV doesn't exist in her time.

Spider: Pre-apocalypse, I think he'd probably go for it, honestly. He enjoys trying new things, and this seems like a neat opportunity. He'd struggle to be surrounded by so many unique sounds and not have his tape recorder, and he'd definitely need to do some wilderness survival training before he signed up, but I could see him giving it a go.

[obanicrypto]

How the Trust Score System on STON.fi Changed My Crypto Trading Approach

If you're like me, you've probably spent a lot of time figuring out how to make better decisions in the world of crypto. The landscape is filled with so many tokens, projects, and constant market noise, and it’s easy to get lost or caught up in the hype. Over time, I’ve realized that successful crypto trading isn’t about jumping on every trend or betting on tokens that everyone’s talking about. It’s about making informed, data-backed decisions.

That’s when I came across the Trust Score system on STON.fi, and it truly changed the way I trade. Here’s how.

What Is Trust Score and Why Does It Matter

At first glance, the Trust Score might sound like just another crypto metric. But for me, it’s been a game-changer. The Trust Score is a system that evaluates tokens based on a variety of important factors, including:

Trading volume: The activity level of a token in the market.

Price movement: How the price fluctuates over time.

Liquidity: How easy it is to buy or sell a token without causing significant price changes.

Minting potential: The risk of inflation or dilution in the token supply.

These are the kinds of data points that provide a clearer picture of a token’s health and stability. The Trust Score takes all this data and gives it a percentage value that helps you quickly assess whether a token is worth your attention.

Why Trust Score Has Been a Key Tool in My Trading Strategy

Before Trust Score, I used to rely heavily on social media buzz or gut feeling when picking tokens to invest in. I know many traders can relate to the FOMO of seeing everyone jumping into a new coin or token. But all too often, those tokens turned out to be risky investments with little real backing.

That’s when I realized that information and data needed to drive my decisions. The Trust Score system helps me separate the noise from the real opportunities. If a token’s score is high, it’s more likely to be a solid option. If the score is low, there’s a higher chance that it’s either volatile or not backed by strong fundamentals.

Here’s an example: I was once eyeing a trending token that everyone was talking about. It had all the hype around it, and I was ready to jump in. But when I checked the Trust Score, I saw it had poor liquidity and price fluctuations. That was enough for me to pass on it, saving me from what could have been a bad decision.

On the flip side, Trust Score also helped me discover hidden gems. I invested in a token that wasn’t getting much attention but had an impressive score. After doing a bit more research, I jumped in and saw solid returns as its price steadily grew.

How Trust Score Helps Me Make Smarter Decisions

Since integrating Trust Score into my daily trading routine, I’ve noticed several key changes in my approach:

1. Faster Decision-Making: Instead of diving deep into endless research, I can quickly glance at a token’s Trust Score and know whether it’s worth further investigation.

2. Lower Risk: By relying on Trust Score, I’ve been able to avoid tokens with poor fundamentals or excessive risk.

3. Better Opportunities: High Trust Scores have helped me find tokens that others may overlook but are showing strong long-term potential.

A Tool That Works for Everyone

What I love most about Trust Score is that it’s accessible to traders at any level. Whether you’re just starting out or have been in the crypto space for years, Trust Score can give you the clarity you need. For beginners, it’s an easy way to assess the stability of a token without having to dig into complex metrics. And for experienced traders like me, it serves as an additional layer of insight when evaluating tokens.

How Trust Score Contributes to a Healthier Crypto Ecosystem

It’s not just about individual gains either. The more traders who use the Trust Score system, the healthier the overall crypto market becomes. A system like this reduces the chances of manipulation, hype-driven trading, and market instability. When we have access to data-backed insights, it builds trust within the entire ecosystem and encourages more sustainable growth.

Final Thoughts: Why I Rely on Trust Score

As a crypto trader, my goal is simple: to make smart, informed decisions that lead to long-term success. The Trust Score system has been essential in achieving that. It provides me with the tools I need to assess tokens quickly, avoid risky investments, and discover hidden opportunities that I might have missed otherwise.

If you're serious about trading and want to take a more data-driven approach, I highly recommend using Trust Score on STON.fi. It’s not a magic bullet, but it’s certainly a valuable tool that helps me trade smarter and with more confidence.

Have you used the Trust Score system in your trading yet? Or are there other tools you rely on to make your decisions? I’d love to hear your thoughts!

[ebblogs]

Photographer's Eye: The Joys in My Life

Photographs are very important to capture memories in this time period. Photographs are memories and feelings frozen in time. When someone looks at a picture they have captured, those memories and emotions from that exact time start flowing back. The theme I have chosen for this topic is a few things that bring joy into my life. I have now realized that most of the things that bring me joy are those I have been experiencing and loving since I was a child. The photos below consist of things my family and I enjoy doing in our free time, along with some furry family members I can trust to bring joy into my day.

Pets:

No matter what part of my life I am talking about, I have always had a pet. My pets are a big part of my life and are considered family to everyone. I have a cat that is 16 years old, along with two dogs who are 8 and 10. Before my current dogs, I had a dog in the family before I was born. It lived up to 16 years old and sadly passed away when I was 7. The point of this section is every single one of my pets throughout my life has always been able to produce joy in my life. I tend to take pictures of them when I think they look cute or silly.

Disney:

For as long as I can remember, my family and I have been going to Disney. My parents joined the Disney Vacation Club before I was born in 1999, when it was “cheaper.” When I lived in New York, we would come down to Florida and visit Disney once a year. Now that we live in Florida, we visit two to three times a year. I love going to all the parks and riding all my favorite rides. I used to love meeting the characters and getting their signatures when I was younger, but we don’t do that much anymore. We meet friends and family there too.

New York Yankees:

My family has been a Yankees fan for my whole life. I remember walking into the house, playing outside with my friends any day with a game from spring to fall, and seeing a Yankee game on. We went to several games when we lived in New York and plan on seeing a World Series game if they end up making it. I’ve been to games on my birthday and even on holidays. They are my favorite team throughout any sport, and whenever the baseball season starts, it is a very exciting time in the family.

Video Games:

I was born into a family that enjoys video games. I have been playing video games for as long as I can remember and loved watching my brother and dad play video games. When I was a kid, we had the original Xbox, Wii, Xbox 360, DS Lite, and this console called the V.Smile consisted of video games but was more like an educational video game console for kids. As I was growing up, my brother got the PlayStation 4, and I got the Xbox One. Now I have a PC, a Nintendo Switch, and a PS5. I continue to play video games; they are how I keep in touch with many of my friends back home in New York. A lot of my favorite memories consist of having video games in them.

New York, Hometown, and Childhood Home:

Last but not least, everything in New York, my hometown, and my childhood home. I grew up about 20 minutes away from New York City WITH NO traffic, which was very rare, 45 minutes to an hour away realistically. I moved away when I was 15. It was all I've ever known where all my friends and family are. So many unforgettable memories were made that I could never forget. I last visited New York for the first time in three years in June for my friend's graduation at my old high school. The pictures shown below are some pictures I took while driving to my hometown, such as the city skyline and the highway sign stating my hometown. The photo on the bottom left is of my childhood home on moving day, so it may look a little dull, but so many memories that were made there. My family lived in that house for 21 years.

(I took all of these photos)

[wobster109]

Thoughts on Parade of Providence day 3—

Kaveh

"I've heard enough. The last thing I need is more suffering."

What a moment! For Kaveh, who could never look away from anyone's suffering, who made every person's (and some creatures') suffering his own, to refuse it! This was a crucial character moment for him—all the rest of it (helping the foxes, insisting on drawing lots, donating the estate)—the rest of it was all Kaveh. Smashing the diadem, on the other hand. . . he's found his limit, perhaps for the first time. . . and he found it in himself to hold it. 🥺😭🥰

I love that he was as respectful of Sachin as he could be, despite everything. He wouldn't just take his estate for himself and ignore Sachin's wishes. And, in the end, what got Sachin (and his own father) was caring for people. I love that he used Sachin's own money to help people. . . doing what research could not, in a way. It may not have been the perfect solution Sachin was searching for, but it was something, no?

Alhaitham's Quote

"Lofty ideals may provide no defense at all against nihilism, but perhaps little decisions can. By their own choice, the idealist seeks to bring happiness to all, while denying themselves the same. Thus they shall never reach even the borders of truth until they wipe away the ignorance that blinds them."

This quote confused me a bunch. The first part seems to be approving of Kaveh, in a roundabout way: little decisions like helping the foxes, or buying a keychain, or drawing lots just because it's fair. Yet the second part seems like a critique: is he saying Kaveh shall never find truth unless he wipes away his ignorance?

On a second reading, I believe this quote is contrasting Kaveh and Sachin. Sachin is the idealist, who tried to bring happiness to all, and lost himself to despair. On the other hand, if each of us does a bit to be kind, and to help each other. . . we may stave off our slide from bad to worse.

A Tale of Two Fathers

"Whatever it is that he's researching out there, he'll always be garbage in my eyes."

I winced every time Sachin called Kaveh "my child". You HAD a child. You left him.

Kaveh's father had a child, and Kaveh's father left him.

Idealists (derogatory)! Your journey to save people began by leaving someone behind. And yet I can't be mad: Kaveh's father did make a difference. Sachin's research. . . though it cause a lot of grief, it made a difference in the end. It sent the desert people Kaveh's father, which changed who Kaveh grew to become, until he came to command and donate Sachin's estate. They ended up making a difference in the end, so I can't be mad.

And neither can Kaveh. That's the difference between him and Jiwani, who grew bitter and angry. Kaveh has grief, but never bitterness towards others.

Rishti

"To live a better life, my son became a mercenary. He was killed in a scuffle a few years ago, and his belongings were taken. Many years have passed in the blink of an eye. I wonder how his child turned out, and if they hold a grudge against him? Not many people know these things anymore. I'm getting old. Perhaps, I'll forget these things soon, too."

Good god. Archons above.

This is one of those conversations that just sneaks up on you. You're chatting with Rishti, about this bizarre and fantastical situation of a man Coming Back Wrong after coming into contact with a scrap of a dead guy's consciousness trapped in a horcrux diadem, and then. . . suddenly Rishti hits you with something so damn real.

She says it so quietly. Matter-of-factly. It's just a fact of her life, just the fabric of the universe. Nothing to rage against or bemoan. It takes a few seconds for what she has said to sink in.

I interpret this as the game giving us a glimpse into Sachin's research and the memories in his diadem. Such a quiet, profound grief, all the more heartbreaking because of how mundane it seems.

The second part of the grief is the forgetting. Rishti is an old woman, stooped and forgetful. After she is gone, who will remember her mercenary son? Will there be any trace of him left upon the world? The Aranara always say that the forest will remember, to the extent that their very power comes from stories. And in another nation, Zhongli says that the Traveler will bear witness to Teyvat's history. And in a third nation, an adventurer takes on a friend's name, and an archon takes on a friend's shape.

I know about him now, Rishti. I'll remember your son!

(I would love if finding Kaveh's father's note became a commission, either daily or weekly, someday!)

Alhaitham

Nearly had a heart attack when I wandered into Aaru village, and there he was, just casually reading the research that drove Sachin and Kaveh's father to madness. That's risky! And reckless! He has a lot of confidence in himself to be different from Sachin. And perhaps he's right to be confident, but. . . it's a pointless risk. Alhaitham isn't even interested in the research! Kaveh's lost too many people already 😭

In many ways he is Kaveh's opposite, but in this. . . he has a bit of Kaveh's recklessness.

Alhaitham! Every line of his is so loaded with meaning! I was reading each of his lines several times, to try to extract the meaning of it. "Empathy is a double-edged sword," and "All important things in life involve other people. As such, it's extremely difficult to live a life that causes no harm whatsoever to others," and "the world is not built on "correctness" alone. Sometimes, being correct means nothing at all" 😭 Can't help but feel that he's trying to say something very, very essential. I could listen to him talk for hours.

That Conversation and the Fate of Humanity

Of course Alhaitham can't possibly give a straight answer to any of Kaveh's questions, ever, and certainly not "Why were you investigating Sachin when his research doesn't interest you?" Can't just simply say "to find out about your father" like a reasonable person, noooo! Instead we have to get sidetracked and have a debate about the value of Sachin's legacy, and then later he casually throws in "Sachin. . . is very likely to have met your father" like it's unrelated.

FUCK OFF, ALHAITHAM! JUST COME CLEAN AND TELL KAVEH YOU DID IT FOR HIM!

Kaveh is exactly the same. He has to get sidetracked and have another debate about. . . I'm not entirely sure what this one is about. The fate of humanity? Alhaitham says "Someone else will inevitably pick up the same line of research one day," and I believe this means that eventually someone will choose wrong, and will instead publish the research where it will drive swaths of people into depression. After all, the topic is sure to come back again and again.

It reminds me of the Narukami Island and Vanarana quests, actually. Sachin's research is a bit like the filth that accumulates over 60 years, or the Marana (the awareness of death?) that accumulates over 500: nothing can be solved for forever. Eventually, the battle begins anew, and all we can do is hope, and take up arms when the time calls. Sometimes that means fighting the Withering. Other times? Extending your hand to a classmate or a lost fox, even if it's tiny in the grand scheme. Even if it's futile. "All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us."

And if there comes a day when Sachin's prophecy comes true: the battle is lost, "things go from bad to worse". . . The forest will remember. We were here. Our stories were real.

"Thanks for letting me know all this." In typical Kaveh form, he says it from a safe distance after the fact, and doesn't even mention what "this" is. Thank you for letting me know that Sachin is to blame for what happened to my father, and it wasn't what I said. You're welcome, Kaveh! (In this way they are so much alike 🥰)

I think that Alhaitham's little personal quest to find answers for Kaveh. . . it's one of the little decisions that fights against nihilism.

Kaveh (Reprise)

A few loose closing thoughts:

I knew he wasn't athletic on day 1 when he nearly went into cardiac arrest climbing a tree 🥺 He's very *pant pant wheeze* it's very endearing.

How is everyone just standing around while Sachin's Horcrux tries to take over his mind? Come on, Alhaitham! Go to him!

Kaveh talks about Alhaitham a lot. Everyone at the table comments on it, it's very sweet! Rent-free in our hearts, indeed.

In closing, I found this to be so charming:

Hah, a Haravatat taking something that didn't belong to him! Immediately, I thought of Kaveh's house keys. Was delighted to find that was the actual answer!

[reality-warp]

Zuzana | Asmodeus Tiefling | Ranger | Chaotic Good

“I did what I had to keep us all alive. If you’re expecting an apology for that, you’ll be waiting until Avernus sprouts daffodils.”

Zuzana is probably one of my favourite DnD characters I’ve ever played as. I originally made her for a Decent into Avernus campaign, and now I can’t wait to play as her again when BG3 comes out in just a few days. 

I’ve added her (slightly long) backstory summary below, partly for my own amusement, but also since everyone else on the hype train seems to be sharing too:

Pale Huntress

Zuzana (affectionately called Zana by her few friends and family) was born the elder of a set of twins, her brother Zane being born just five minutes after her to a human farmer and his tiefling wife. They grew up pretty humble, rarely going beyond the boundaries of their family’s orchards, paddocks and the surrounding forests. As a result (plus their infernal heritage) the twins didn’t have too many friends and were damned near inseparable as kids. Zane grew up to be accomplished with caring for and riding the horses their family bred, while Zana became a dab hand with a bow and arrow – learning to fend off wolves and livestock rustlers alongside her father, as well as hunt for game when harvests were bad.

The twin’s mother passed away when they were in their teens, and after a few hard winters following her death, the family began to struggle to keep food on the table. During one of these harsh winters, while out hunting the twins stumbled on a caravan of merchants passing their farm being attacked by a starving wolf pack. Between them they managed to fight the wolves off, and offered shelter at their home to the ones injured in the fight. One of the injured men — a red dragonborn called Ferrovax Ironhide — turned out to be an mercenary associated with a guild in Baldur’s Gate. After seeing the twins fight together, he told his father than he saw a lot of potential in them, and offered to take them with him — promising to sponsor and mentor them, as their potential was wasted out on a farm in the middle of nowhere.

Despite not wanting to leave their father, the twins were interested by the idea, and were eventually convinced to accept by their father — who realized that, despite not wanting to lose them, his children were being offered the chance at a better life. So hesitantly, both Zana and Zane accepted, promising to come visit as soon as they were able to. They left with Ferrovax after he had recovered fully, and made the journey to Baldur’s Gate with him. What they didn’t learn until they got there and began their training, was that while Ferrovax was indeed a mercenary associated with a guild — but the guild in question was actually an underground gladiator stable who’s participants fought in Zhentarim fighting pits. And because the twins were unable to read their “contracts” properly, they had no idea until they’d signed them that they’d been tricked into indenturing themselves to Ferrovax for the cost of their “training and upkeep”, effectively making them his property until they paid it off. 

For almost three years they were made to fight in a variety of underground fighting pits, sometimes against monsters, sometimes against other gladiators, but they were always entered as a pair fighting alongside each other. They became relatively well known as a “matching set” referred to as “The Pale Twins”, but according to Ferrovax the “cost of their upkeep” just kept going up, no matter how much money they managed to make fighting in the pits. Eventually the twins realized that Ferrovax was never going to allow them to pay off their indenture as they were too valuable to him now — he’d just keep finding ways to push the debt up until they eventually died fighting in the pits. So they, along with a few other indentures in the same impossible position, planned a mass escape. WIth the help of one of the spellcasters in the stables they managed to escape their cells one night, find and destroy their contracts, then made a run for it.

Unfortunately just as they were making their way out, they were spotted and chased down. Zana managed to make it out, but Zane was caught and subdued – but not before shouting at her to keep running and save herself. With no other choice, Zana was forced to reluctantly leave her brother behind and flee.

For several long months she could only run and hide as pack after pack of bounty hunters was sent after her. She was forced to hide out in the wilds, and by the time they started to give up the hunt and she was able to sneak back into the city, she’d completely lost track of where Zane was. Only after a year after her escape did she finally hear rumors that Ferrovax had been forced to sell Zane’s indenture since he was no longer as profitable in the arena without his “matched set” sister. She spent months trying to track Ferrovax down, and when she finally did, she discovered that the loss of so many of his gladiators had cripled him financially. He’d been reduced to begging on the streets of the Outer City, and when Zana confronted him about what happened to her brother, he admitted that he had indeed sold Zane to a Zhentarim slaver in the city of Elturel…

Just a week before it fell into Avernus.

Decent Into Avernus

Desperate to rescue her brother from hell, Zana found and immediately joined up with a small group of other adventurers – a goliath barbarian called Kharv, a half-elf wild magic sorcerer called Elias, necromancy specialized wizard gnome Norman, and a half-orc cleric Syll. All of them were fixing to go to hell (pun totally intended) for their own reasons, and decided to team up so they’d have a better chance of not only surviving the trip, but also saving Elturel. 

Through various shenanigans involving discovering a cult hidden under one of the Duke’s estates, the group managed to get transported into Avernus – the first layer of hell, where Elturel had been dragged – and in the process of finding their way through the hellscape of the Blood War, the party discovered that Zane had been taken along with some other Elturel survivors, and had been forcibly thrown into a meregon’s fighting pit at “training practice”.

The party arrived at the devil’s arena just in time to save Zane from being killed, reuniting the twins for the first time in over a year of being separated. (Zana’s first words upon hugging her brother again were “Don’t ever try and sacrifice yourself for me again, you absolute prick” through a shed load of tears.) After rescuing and being reunited with her twin, Zana and Zane join the rest of the party on the months long mission to bring Elturel back to the material plane. 

After managing to return to Faerun, returning Elturel back to its original position on the map, and recovering for a few months, Zane and Zana – plus Zane’s new boyfriend, Elias, who’d started growing close during the trip across Avernus – decide it’s time to make the journey back to their family home to reunite with their father. By then it had been almost five years, and the two of them had been through so much, neither were sure how on earth they were going to explain to their father what had happened to them. Between the twins, they made the decision not to tell him, worried that the guilt of sending them away to such a fate would crush him.

So the twins returned to their childhood home to the delighted shock of their father, who was beyond overjoyed to have his beloved children home once again.

No Longer Who We Once Were

For five years the twins remained home again. In their time away their father had managed to build the farm back up again after the difficult times, but he was getting old and weary, so Zane and Zana took over a lot of the workloads. Zane and Elias become engaged, their old adventuring friends sometimes visiting, and despite the peace and joy of being reunited the twin’s father became more and more frail. The weight of hard years tending the farm alone, and missing his wife and children had weighed heavy on him, and eventually he passed peacefully one winter with Zane and Zana both there with him. 

With their father gone and no longer in a position to keep the secret of what happened to them, Zane and Zana decide that what they experienced in Baldur’s Gate and Avernus had left too many scars on them to lead a quiet life as farmers. Not without their father there as an anchor. They scatter their fathers ashes in the same woods where they scattered their mothers, and began preparations to sell the farm and set off to find what they’re meant to do next. 

Zana expressed her wishes to return to Baldur’s Gate and try to track down some of her old friends from the Avernus mission (who had all gone their separate ways after returning to Faerun). Zane and Elias agreed, but also wanted to go and visit Elias’ family in Waterdeep first to tell them about the engagement in person. The twins realize that they can’t realistically be joined at the hip for the rest of their lives, so they agree to willingly split up for the first time, albeit temporarily. The plan was for Zane to go with Elias to Waterdeep while Zana would head to Baldur’s Gate to pick up their old companion’s trails ahead of them – all of them planning to meet up in Baldur’s Gate in a few months time.

The twins exchanged Sending Stones made by Elias so that they used to keep in daily contact, speaking every night at the same time after heading out in their separate directions. 

Only when  Zana stops responding the day after she arrived back in Baldur’s Gate does Zane realise something is very wrong, both him and Elias immediately setting out to go find out what the hell has happened to her. 

What they find when they get there, I suppose we’ll find out soon enough…

Extra character notes:

Zana and Zane were both about 20 when they left home with Ferrovax. By the start of BG3 they're around 30.

Both twins are both very pale grey, even for tieflings, with white hair, bone grey horns and yellow eyes. They also look so similar that at a distance it’s difficult to tell them apart. They’re even the exact same height and have almost the same horn shape too.

When they were being trained in the gladiator stables, Zana (who was already good with a bow) was made to be a ranged specialist, while Zane was trained as a close-combat fighter. Class-wise, Zana is a combo of Hunter Ranger and a little bit of Rogue, while Zane is a Battle Master Fighter who’s preferred weapon is a glaive.

Neither twin learned to read or write as a child. When they were living in the gladiator stables, one of the other indentures (a former scholar of Candle Keep) helped them to learn the bare basics. Zana was a little better at it than Zane, but she’s still not great and is very sensitive about how slowly she is to write and read.

Zana keeps sketch journals as a way of managing stress. She draws people she meets, places she sees, and presses flowers and herbs between the pages to keep for later. After escaping the nautiloid, she buys and starts keeping a new journal as a way of taking her mind off things – and just in case she dosen’t survive, Zane will have something of hers to find out what happened to her.

I like to imagine she’s by far the best cook in the entire camp, barring maybe Halsin and Jaheira. The girl has been cooking food she’s hunted over a campfire since she was a child, and has had to figure out ways of making palatable meals out of scraps for half of her life. Astarion still likes to complain that there’s never enough seasoning in her food though. (Z: "Eat your desiccated fruit rations and be grateful, you prissy git. It's miles better than anything you could make, and you know it.")

While she was somewhat well known in Baldur’s Gate’s underground as a gladiator for a time, it was only in combination with her brother as a “matching set”. Without him, and all this time later, she’s not really recognised as much, and far prefers it that way. (In our Decent into Avernus campaign one of the Flaming Fist recognised her and asked her if she’d sign one of his shoulderguards, much to her mortification.)

I’m specing her as a Hunter subclass, but depending on how her story run goes I may take the Gloom Stalker subclass instead. I headcanon that the insertion of the tadpole has messed with her focus and combat reflexes, hence why she’s back at Level 1 despite originally reaching Level 8 during Decent into Avernus.

In my mind, Zana wore her Sending Stone on a cord around her neck, and when she was teleported onto the nautiloid, no magic items could come with her. Her Sending Stone is likely still lying in a gutter somewhere in the Lower City.

[imp-writes]

FANFICTION FRIDAY

Today's fanfic: The Desalunier Chronicles :3

Chapter 4: Aesop’s Theorem

“Has anyone seen Claude this morning?” Eli asked as a collection of survivors were eating breakfast. Naib shook his head as he munched on an apple.

“I went and knocked on his door last night,” Emma said, “He didn’t answer. I hope he isn’t angry with us.”

“He’s probably sleeping.” Tracy said. “Yesterday was tiring for him, I’m sure.”

“He did sleep all day after he arrived.” Helena said.

“Even if not physically because the games don’t affect us here, he had a lot to take in.” Victor added. Eli nodded.

“I suppose.” He said. “I’ll go check on him later if we still don’t see him.”

The afternoon passed in tranquility. Shortly before he had to prepare for the game, Eli, accompanied by Aesop, found Claude’s door and knocked.

“Come in.” Eli pushed open the door after he barely heard the reply and Aesop slipped in behind him. Claude was in his bed, holding a book.

“Oh hello, Aesop, Eli. What brings you here?”  Claude’s voice was soft, not as if he was trying to be quiet, but more like he’d lived in a library all his life.

“You remembered my name?” Aesop blinked in surprise. “You…only heard it once.”

“I’m fairly good at keeping them in mind.” Claude replied with a smile. “Call it a specialty of mine. I enjoy keeping records, both with my mind and my pen.”

“Your memory is remarkable,” Eli said. “To answer your question, we came to check on you. You didn’t come down the entire day and we were worried. Haven’t eaten all day or anything either.”

Claude’s smile faded a little, even though he waved a hand carelessly.

“Pay my absence no mind.” He replied. “I’m simply tired after that…game…and what you all said. I need a little rest, is all. I actually feel stronger here than I have in….years…” He hesitated and trailed off at the thought. Years? I don’t even remember what things were like before I came here… He shook his head. “Regardless, I believe I shall have the strength to come downstairs for the evening meal, if you all would bear my company.”

“We’d be glad to have it!” Eli said with a nod. “Aesop and I will be in today’s game, but we’ll join you all after.”

“I see. I wish you better luck than I had.” He coughed a bit again. Eli and Aesop nodded and took their leave. Claude looked at his book.

“How bothersome,” he said to it, “I suppose I’m little more than a frustration as I am now though, aren’t I? I should at least take the time to learn about the others…and this place as much as they can explain it.” He opened the reddened hand he’d kept closed during their visit and sighed.

***

“FOCUS ON DECODING!” Eli pinged. Aesop promptly popped the last cipher and the exit alarm rang in his ears. He always tried to cover his ears for it, no matter how many times he heard it. He ran for the gate Luca was already decoding. Both jumped as a red and black flash appeared next to them.

“Hunter used Teleport!” Came the ping from across the map as the two of them scurried away from the gate. It was too late, however. Luca gasped and fell flat on his face as Joseph’s saber slashed deep into his back. He hauled himself to his knees, wincing and buckling from the pain.

Aesop had run back into the ruined walls nearby.

“I can’t embalm Luca…he’s dead on chair…what do I do…?” He put a hand on his chest and did his best to take a deep, even breath, a trick Fiona had shown him to help him calm down. In…and out….His heartbeat grew louder, but his head was clearer now. He ran to the exit gate and put his coffin up again.

“Get out of here!” He pinged to Eli. Subsequently, he saw Eli had escaped. He looked over to his left as he completed opening the gate. Joseph was approaching. He swallowed hard…and then stopped. He stopped walking. In fact, he stopped doing everything but looking at Joseph, his head tilted.

The photographer stopped as well, eyelids drooped in his typical, world-weary expression.

“What, do you want to lose again?” He queried. Aesop must have opened and closed his mouth a few times by the movement beneath his mask. His head straightened and he put his hands together at his mouth. Joseph gestured with his sword hand, almost striking Aesop, who still didn’t really flinch.

“Spit it out, mouse.” He sighed.

“I-“ Aesop’s voice finally started working again. “Is…Is Claude your son?”

It was Joseph’s turn to stare.

“….What?”

“I just…felt like I recognized him and I realized he looks…a lot…like…well, you…”

Joseph’s face twitched as he glared holes in the survivor before him. Aesop looked at Joseph indirectly, tugging a bit on his shirt.

“Get out.” Joseph snarled, flicking his head at the open gate.

“Are y-“ Aesop started.

“Get. Out.” Aesop flinched and scurried out with a bow and mumbled “thank you.”

***

Joseph stormed past the greetings awaiting him from his match. A tie was fine, but not particularly common in the Photographer’s high winrate. He ignored everyone, even Kuro and Hastur. Michiko’s “welcome back” was cut off by the icy aura that waved over her when he walked by, not even glancing at the other hunters. His door slammed shut behind him so hard Robbie flinched.

“What happened to Joseph-san?” Robbie asked. Michiko put a hand on his shoulder.

“He’s definitely more agitated than usual…” she said.

“You think? Seems normal to me,” Luchino smirked, making it clear he noticed just as much as they did.

Kuro shrugged and tossed his umbrella. When Shiro appeared he held his umbrella tightly.

“Wuju, I’ve told you to stop leaving in the middle of a conversation.” He sounded annoyed, but not completely discontent with being in the forefront. He comforted Robbie as best he could as Michiko poured them all some more tea.

The door banged open again, and this time Joseph held a letter sealed with his ring. He placed it on the table.

“Luchino,” he said, “See that that letter gets to the survivors’ manor unopened. I don’t care how.”

“Ah, don’t I even get a ‘please’?” Luchino teased. Joseph left without another word. The rest of the room was still stunned to silence. Except for Luchino.

“I wonder what put a bee in his bonnet,” he sighed.

“You’d better not open that,” Michiko chastened him.

“Joseph-san would be really mad then!” Robbie said. Luchino sighed.

“I won’t.” He sighed. “Come with me, Robbie, the two we like to play with are here. We can hand the letter off to them and forget about our sour aristocrat.” Robbie jumped up and took Luchino’s outstretched hand and they went off together, almost skipping.

***

“…And then I snagged Martha-chan right out of the chair from under his nose!” Kevin boasted about his most recent victory as the others returned to the room. Eli noticed Claude was chuckling at the story while writing on something in his lap. He seemed alert and content to participate despite his obvious weariness. He smiled Perhaps he’ll adjust better than I thought.

“Welcome back!” Boy greeted the survivors. They all waved or nodded and took their places at the table.

“Ah, how’d it go?” Kevin asked.

“It was a tie,” Aesop said, “Joseph…let me get out.”

“Oh?” Naib raised an eyebrow. “That’s surprising for him. Shiro, I wouldn’t be so surprised, but Joseph is usually quite brutal for a win.”

“I…think…I think I shocked him a little bit.”

“I thought that was my job,” Luca huffed jokingly. “It was a good match.”

“What did you surprise him with?” Tracy asked. Aesop glanced over at Claude for a split second and then his focus went back to his hands, tugging on his shirt.

“N-nevermind.” He mumbled.

“Well, a tie’s a tie!” Emma said, trying to be encouraging.

“Emma’s right. We all did our best,” Eli added. The entire time, while he did look up once in a while, Claude had been writing. Now, his glance remained up.

“Uh…not to change the subject, but…Kevin-san, could you finish telling me your story, please?”

“Aha! Yes of course! Where was I…? I’d just saved Martha-chan! So you see…”

As Kevin happily obliged, Claude continued to write until Boy looked over his shoulder and interrupted.

“Whatcha doing, Claude?” He asked. Claude startled at Boy being so close, but relaxed again and brought his writing up to the table where Boy could see it.

“I’m writing down the story Kevin-san’s telling,” he explained, “I like writing down things…memoirs, biographies…that’s what I wanted to do for a living.”

“You never were able to tell us what your profession was,” Helena commented. Claude looked away with a flicker of doubt…maybe withdrawal in his eyes.

“I’d like to consider myself a chronicler of sorts,” he said finally, “but I never got to do much.”

“I understand that feeling,” Helena replied to his hesitance, “I was just a student before coming here…it would have been nice to complete my education.” Claude offered a little pat on her shoulder as he was sitting right next to her. His smile shy, appreciating the comfort she offered. Helena startled for a second, but smiled warmly.

“I’d like to hear your stories sometime too,” he said, “All of you, really…” His thoughts were cut off by a small cough, but it didn’t get too bad this time. There was a pause in the conversation. Of course, it was Luca who broke it.

“So, then, what’s your story?” He asked, curiosity sparkling in his grey eyes.

“Pardon?”

“How did you come to be here at this manor?” Luca pressed. Claude paused. Eli and Emily both leaned in with slight concern when he stayed silent for a while. He raised a hand to calm them with a quiet, awkward chuckle.

“I’m…afraid I really don’t remember…” He replied at last. Luca’s curiosity didn’t waver.

“You don’t remember either, huh? Interesting interesting…”

“Does no one here remember?” Claude asked, his head raising a bit.

“Oh no, most of us do,” Eli answered, “A select few don’t. Luca didn’t remember most of his past when he first came. The hunter named Joseph also didn’t have most of his memories either, so Aesop, Boy-kun and I found out when we first came.”

“Oh…I see. So they both remember now?” Luca leaned his head and tapped on his temple.

“I still have lingering memory issues,” he said, “I may forget a face now and again…or perhaps a bit more…but I have recalled the events before I ever came here well enough.”

“And this Joseph? He remembered as well?”

“Yes, at least that’s what we’ve heard.” Claude wheezed again before being able to answer.

“You talk to them often? In…games?”

“Sometimes,” Boy-kun popped in. “But a few of us go and visit the Hunters’ Manor on moonlit nights.”

“Oh, an entirely different place then…”

“Mhmm! A whole manor unto themselves, much like we have.”

“I see…”

“Claude, do you remember anything at all?” Emily ventured. Again, Claude paused, but not for nearly as long.

“I remember closing my eyes…” He said, looking around a bit as if trying to picture it with open eyes, “it was a small room with bookshelves and cream-colored sheets…when I woke up, a man offered me a letter, promising me something in return for taking it…I walked here for whatever that was…you all know the rest. That’s…all I know.” A beat of silence as the other survivors took in the information.

“This man…” Naib said, “Who was he?”

“I don’t know,” Claude admitted, “I don’t remember his face…or even his voice...only what happened.”

“How curious!” Luca said, perhaps coming a bit too close to Claude, but if Claude was uncomfortable, he didn’t show it.

“Oh! Speaking of the Hunter Manor,” Emma interjected, “Robbie gave this to me…for Claude. He really wants to meet you, ya know!”

Claude took the letter Emma handed him, memories of jack flashing fresh in his mind all of a sudden. He shook it away as he opened the letter. He took note of the strong, graceful handwriting before even the words themselves. The others watched him start as he read the letter.

“Is everything okay?” Emily asked. Claude finished reading before answering her.

“The hunter you mentioned, Joseph. He wants to see me.” A ripple ran through the room. Claude didn’t understand the feeling in the room. Surprise? Fear? Concern? Confusion?

“Is….something wrong about that?” He asked. Aesop stepped forward. His body hesitated, but his gaze was steady. A sort of resolve and intensity Claude hadn’t seen in him before. He was usually so unconfrontational…even near invisible.

“The last time Joseph wanted to see one of us…me…he had written to the Baron requesting a horrible rule change.”

“I don’t understand….I haven’t even met him.” Claude put the letter on the table, the concerned faces around him putting him more on edge than ever. Eli, the only one wearing a smile now, raised his hands.

“Now, now, we don’t know for sure what Lord Joseph is thinking of this time. But I do think it’d be a good idea if someone accompanies Claude to this meeting. Claude, I’ll come with you if you want.”

“I’ll come too.” Aesop volunteered immediately.

“Eli…Aesop…you really don’t have to…”

“Well, please let us accompany you for our own sakes then, please?” Eli said.

Claude took a breath, shakier than he would have liked, and nodded.  “Alright. Thank you both.” Eli smiled again warmly.

“Don’t mention it!”

“I…guess we’ll go when the moon is out again…she seems absent tonight,” Claude said presently glancing out the window.

“We’ll show you the way!” Emma volunteered, raising her and Boy’s hands. Despite being volunteered, Boy seemed cheery, though there was still a shade of caution in his eyes.

“We usually go play with some of the hunters when we can! We’d be happy to!” Eli nodded his thanks, as did Claude.

“I’d appreciate that,” Claude said as he stood from his chair, “I, ah, hope you all don’t mind if I take my leave for the evening.”

“Not at all! Have a good night!” A chorus of various farewells followed Claude as he nodded and headed back to his room. He sat down in his bed with a book and read until his candle burned low. In a moment, he’d forgotten about the cryptic letter from Joseph he’d stuffed away in his pocket and eventually drifted off into his usual, sporadic sleeping patterns.

[lazzies123]

If Someone Asked Me What I Was Good at, I Would Say

Solitude.

When I was at school, we had an assignment to write down what we wanted to be when we grew up. After that, the teacher wanted us to do a presentation about it in front of the class. At that time, I was too young to understand that people would only be interested in us when we did or said good things. So, I told everyone that I wanted to write a book that motivated people. I wanted to leave a legacy in everyone's mind and inspire people to do good things. I remember I got a lot of applause, praise, and even a smile from my teacher. As I got older, I realised people don't care about what you think. It is what you do that leaves an impression on other people's minds. That's how you leave a legacy. Had I known about this earlier, would I not have presented my dreams at all?

Sometimes, I get jealous of people who know what they do with life. I see a friend who is good at music, who can sing and play guitar. There is also someone good at programming and engineering. Looking at these people, I could feel anger inside me. They have some values to offer which I may not have. I look at myself. What do I do? Working, playing video games, caring for my old man, and that's it? Sure, it was okay to play video games if it was 10 years ago. I didn't care about how much time had passed, but now. Every time I spend my time on a video game, I ask myself, "Was it worth it?" Aren't there so many better things to do? How can I compete against people who spend so much time carving their talents? Do I have a talent? I am confident in myself, but sometimes, being confident is not enough. You cannot bring a sword into a gunfight. While everyone else is busy improving themselves, I am trying to figure out what to do with life. If this is not jealousy, I don't know what is.

I wish I had a good hobby. I wake up every day. I help my dad with his needs: breakfast, an adult diaper, a computer for karaoke for his entertainment, and a good bed to sleep in case he's tired. Then, I prepare myself for work. After working 9 hours, I spend the rest of the day playing video games. Playing a game with someone is precious. But what if there is no one to play with? I will stare at my computer, watch YouTube, and listen to good songs. Is this actually productive? I know the answer is "no." Day by day, it feels so flat and empty. At the peak of my solitude, I found something that had been lost from me for so many years. Back when I was at school, I always liked writing. Yes, my writing is not so fancy, and these words are not pretty. However, this is better than not doing anything at all. Besides, writing is a cheap hobby. You do not really need much, right? Everything is there. My computer, internet connection, a keyboard. So, I started writing.

I do not have plans or a concept of what I want to write in this Tumblr. I have a lot of fantasy stories, but it is not a good time for that. I think I will write everything about me here. After all, this is for me. This place will be a good place to return whenever I'm unsure what to do with life. So, yeah. Myself, whenever you read this in the future. Know that good things come at the good times. Hang in there, okay? It does not really matter if people around you are good at what they do. We were born unique. Everyone has their own purposes. Besides, you get the privilege of taking care of your father. Only some get the chance to do that. I know you do not like your father, but that does not mean you hate him. You do not like your father as a person, but you love him as a family. Good things will come one day, and you will be a happy man.

If someone asked you what you were good at, ignore it. You do not need to tell everyone everything. Okay?

Use your solitude to write your legacy here :)

[designedonchaos]

P O T E N T I A L  C O N N E C T I O N S

Gus Amado, 43, He/Him, ASL Interpreter

Under the Read More are different connection ideas based on Val’s life. Feel free to message me or comment on the post if any of these strike your fancy and I can reach out to you to plot more. 💙 

💉 Sedate Me - It’s a hot summer out in the middle of nowhere- and you meet an older man with an ugly haircut and a watery smile. He’s living in an RV and he’s running away from something. He’s clearly been through it- and he doesn’t talk about it. Maybe a traveler yourself at the time, and at some basement party thrown by the grungy underground queers in some hot midwestern town, you get to talking- but more importantly, you get to experiencing. Whatever drugs you both take leave you sitting on a rooftop somewhere, throwing water balloons at street lamps to see if they’ll extinguish. You finally learn about Gus’s background- at least, what you can glean from between both of your hazes and delusions. You know he was a special agent, and you know his boyfriend is dead. High out of your minds, you both make a vow to be best fucked up friends forever, locking pinkies. And years later, despite the city being so vast and full of possibilities, you see the familiar face of your drug-buddy out and living his life, in NYC. He looks better. But before or after doesn’t matter. Fate just has a way of pulling y’all back together again.

👊 Fight Me/Kiss Me - You hate his shit face. His dumb smile and the way he always knows a little too much about something. Not only that, but he shows up to things and always just seems to be trying to get a word in. You don’t fully notice the loneliness there, the way Gus tries desperately to make friends, afraid of his empty apartment. But you revel in arguing with him- and he relishes in it right back. Drinks at the bar turns into rolling eyes and pushes and shoves, until you’re both out in the parking lot. Until he’s under you breathing heavy and the stale beer emanating from your breath has him gripping your jacket and tugging you in. You both fuck and fight like it’s your job, and you’re not sure which you enjoy more.

🧒 Miss Me - You’re a similar age to one of the many Amado children and you get along swimmingly. You’ve spent your life in NYC and you often meet up with the Amado kids when they go out to the community pool. The younger boy is sweet and a bit of a mama’s boy, but he’s always coming up with funny stories and you two play pretend out in Central Park while your moms have picnics. You two go off into the woods and hunt frogs. You see how deep into the mud you can go without sinking, and you go searching for elusive ‘mystery fish’, a favorite game of Gus’s. You’re kindred spirits, made of muck and algae and the smell of wet bark. Maybe it’s because you’re both so used to the concrete and boring structures of high-rise apartments that you can’t enter. Gus’s cooler brother Chet always calls you both ‘the little swamp monsters’. In high school Gus asks you to help cut his hair, and you steal his older brother’s car and go looking for ghosts. But Gus started to slowly clean up- and suddenly he was an agent. Stuffy and carrying a gun- but sometimes you see the scruffy kid you were best friends with. Your texts and Facetimes were few and far between, until his partner died and he retired from the force. Suddenly he needed friendship more than ever- but sometimes it’s not so simple. How do you both restart your old friendship? Is it tough, or does it feel like no time has passed?

💬  Introduce Me - You do your job, and you do it well- a professional at whatever you do. And regardless of how long you’ve been that way, you are impressive to Gus. Gus, who grew up figuring out his life and only having a few friends, only to lose one of the closest ones he had. He’s spent the past few years driving around in his RV with Chili, not really having a place to call home... and now he’s come back to NYC, and barely understands what it means to have a family any more. He needs help... and you can feel it. He’s desperate for some kind of connection but often gets into fights instead. You think he might need to be taken under someone’s wing. Maybe he needs help being introduced to new friends, to a brotherhood. Even just being filled in on what’s been going on. Gus is desperate to belong but doesn’t know how to make that shown- and maybe you see that, just a little bit. He makes all his jokes at first, affable and kind, but finds you comforting and helpful. He may even see you as a form of guidance or a close friend.

🚘  Help Me - You are someone in a car at night. It’s so dark out and your high-beams are on, and the radio is turned up. For some reason it’s slow & sad songs tonight, and you’re eager to get home. Roy Orbison croons. ‘I was alright, for a while, I could smile for a while. Then I saw you last night, you held my hand so tight, when you stopped to say ‘hello’.’ The next second, you see a shorter man tripping out of the woods and right onto the street. He’s bloody and his clothing is torn and his eyes are wide. He’s bruised up and terrified... and against the fear screaming in the back of your head, you help him into your car. His name is Gus, and he flops back into your passenger seat after you’ve asked him if he’s alright. He’s out of it and mumbling “Just drive, just drive”. He’s trying not to bleed on your car’s interior. He’s silent for a second and laughs weakly. ‘Shit, is that- this is one of my favorite songs.’ From there on, you start to talk carefully. He’s bleeding- a lot. You get him to a police station and that’s that... until you see on the news that an FBI agent and his partner were held hostage at gunpoint for 48 hours by a drug cartel. You recognize the face immediately. The police call you for a follow-up and you get to meet Gus in the hospital as he recovers. Suddenly you’re visiting every few days, hearing that not many have.