#but it means cutting off everyone and starting anew

[treasure-goblin]

.

[54625]

What I want out of a QSMP season two.

(Some of these points may be a little divisive - it's just my personal opinion. Content creators will be referred to as players for conciseness. QSMP as it has been for the past year, for the sake of this post, will be referred to as "season 1".)

1. TAKE A FUCKING BREAK.

I do not want to see the QSMP coming back in less than two months at the very, very least. Five or six months to a year is ideal, in my opinion.

This is for a few reasons. Firstly, the obvious; I want Quackity Studios to take the necessary time to make 100% sure that everyone who has worked, does work, or will work for them is compensated. Not just this, but I want the communication among the studio to become streamlined and consistent, for the purpose of maintaining the quality of the SMP, the quality of life of the employees, and entirely avoiding a repeat of the previous situation. Any less will be unacceptable, and prove that all people in charge, including and especially Quackity himself, have not learned their lesson.

Secondly, I am very sure that a lot of players will lack or have completely lost their motivation for the QSMP, due to the nature of the last few months of season 1. I am sure that those who had a lot of lore written up and had to scrap it or cut it short are probably still quite sore about it, and may not have the energy to pick the QSMP story back up. This is especially true if they had already given their characters a canon ending and don't want to overshadow it. When creating a new SMP, or a new season of an SMP, you first and foremost need player motivation to be high. Waiting several months would ensure that the wound of player lore being ruined would have mostly healed over by the start of season 2.

Thirdly, viewer engagement will always be an important thing to take into consideration when creating an SMP that will be televised. The large majority of QSMP fans are completely burned out from watching. Leaving a large gap between seasons 1 and 2 would let fans, who have had an exhausting last few months, recover and reset. It will also allow hype and anticipation to build up when things eventually start being teased and announced again. Fans have a lot of disdain for this project at the present moment, and waiting for a while between seasons will not only let fans know that serious action is being taken behind the scenes, but also will let the sour attitude a lot of fans have right now wear off over time.

2. RESET. FOR REAL THIS TIME.

Probably my most controversial take on this topic will be; I fully believe that if a QSMP season 2 is to occur, it should be a completely new server. By completely new I naturally mean a new map, but also ZERO LORE CONTINUATION. I know this is a hot take, but I personally believe QSMP season 2 is a perfect chance for a completely fresh start, and a fresh start cannot happen if it still takes place in the same universe.

We all know that season 1's lore was overwhelming, slightly confusing, and at the end of the day, completely disjointed. We all fell in love with the terrifying Federation and Codes, yes, we all loved the basis of the story; a group of people from different countries get stranded on a "perfect" paradise island controlled by a governmental body that won't let them leave, and have to work together; but at the end of the day, the lore of season 1 became messy. Very messy. Instead of trying again and again to salvage it, the best option is probably to just start again.

Put the same players in a different map, give them a completely different premise, and let the lore unfold anew. Which leads into my next point.

3. PLAYER DRIVEN LORE.

Let the players develop the story. If a player has an overarching storyline they are unfolding themselves, prioritise letting them do so. All of the best lore in season 1 was player created, and player enacted; Cellbit's regret arc, the happy pills, Cellbit's murdering Fed workers arc, literally everything Fit ever did, Roier's lore, ect ect ect. Server admins should only intervene in player's lore when directly asked, and big changes to the server's status quo should only occur when there is no active lore to be interrupted, everyone agrees it should happen, and it would actively drive engagement up, rather than down.

The best case scenario for a QSMP season 2, in my opinion, is for the server admins and Quackity to come up with an exciting and engaging premise for a brand new universe with brand new characters, to place the players in an interesting themed map, and just let them loose. Let the lore build naturally, and see what comes of it.

IN CONCLUSION.

I vehemently disagree with people who believe the QSMP should not have a season 2. The QSMP is a brilliant idea, and its noble goals shine through all of the incredible friendships and memories it, and only it, made. There is no other server like QSMP.

The act of uniting people from all over the world has been proven to be an extremely important and worthwhile goal. I, genuinely, admire Quackity for his passion in this, and for understanding that this thing should not be easily given up on or let go. Drastic changes need to occur, but the QSMP is bigger than just a Minecraft server; it represents so much unity, community, and love.

It is worth saving.

I hope, desperately and for the sake of everyone involved, past future and present, that the QSMP can come back better and stronger than ever, continuing to further its goals; to tell amazing stories, to forge impossible friendships, to spark joy and laughter, and to bring people together no matter the barriers keeping them apart.

Thank you for reading.

[roaringdrago]

crewel + serial killer vibes

requested by anonymous

this request inspired a short fic included under the cut. it is also available on ao3. there is minor character death as well as a heavily implied off-screen death for a character who otherwise goes unmentioned. if you would like to know who, go here.

do not feed my work to any form of AI, including c.ai.

"How does anyone get this stuff?"

A gloved hand pulled a jar from a lower shelf, giving it a tentative shake. The ivory pile inside shifted and settled anew, showcasing a strange variety of off-white shades behind pristine glass. Ace's head dipped to one side. Red eyes traced the familiar curve of a sharp canine, a hazy memory floating just out of view.

Behind him, Deuce set an armful of ingredients on their lab table. He was too busy sorting botanical ingredients to spare his curiosity, caught up in the herculean task of keeping everything separate. With a deep sigh, Ace set the collection of teeth back down, turning his attention to the task at hand.

A few other students were clustered around tables for remedial work. A pair sporting burgundy goggles tucked close to one another, voices hushed as they worked in clumsy tandem. The blond—a second-year, Ace was certain—pulled a folded scrap of paper from his pocket, sliding it across the tabletop. The other peeked out from under his mop of bright red hair to quickly glance over the messy scribbles.

"No way," he hissed under his breath, "that's not possible."

"It is!" the first insisted.

He twisted the crisp white sleeve of his friend's lab coat in his gloved hand, yanking him ever closer. Their voices dipped too low for Ace to continue eavesdropping, instead forced to watch as Deuce scrambled to shovel a handful of glittering dust back into its container.

He propped an elbow on the table, leaning down to rest his chin on his palm. It wouldn't hurt to let Deuce fumble around for an extra minute or two—he would take over when the needed to start stirring.

Somewhere behind them, a slow sensation began to wet the air. It was easy to ignore, a constant in the alchemy lab, until the sounds rose and someone began to shout. Whipping around, Ace managed to catch the moment a cauldron wobbled and overflowed with bubbling black fizz that quickly overtook the other side of the room. The redhead scrambled to get out of the way, slipping on the sludge and plummeting into the spill. His friend, abandoning him to his mess, rushed to meet Professor Crewel halfway. The professor scowled down at the atrocious potion attempt now creeping toward his feet.

He extended a hand to the student on the floor, pulling him to his feet before guiding him away. He took a moment to look over the mess, then, with restraint clawing at his voice, turned to address the rest of the students.

"We'll have to continue tomorrow. Everyone, come back after class and we'll pick up where we left off."

His gaze turned rigid, shifting cold steel over the student responsible for the mess. Tension mottled his expression, painting their strict professor in a thoroughly exhausted light.

"You'll be staying to clean up your mess."

Unrestrained relief washed over the room as they were dismissed, following the cluster of students across campus as they scattered for the evening.

The alchemy workshop was spotless when Ace and Deuce returned the next door. The floors seemed to shine, exposing no hint of the unfortunate accident the day prior.

Deuce plucked their ingredient list from the table, scanning over it and mumbling to himself as he went. Left with little else to do, Ace began searching the shelves for items he could remember. A purple vial here, a wooden box full of crushed scales there... Something else was needed from a drawer, drawing his attention to the clear divide between standard fair and restricted access. Ingredients for advanced classes were kept under tight lock and key, ensuring the curiosity of wandering first-years couldn't explore beyond their means.

A red gaze scanned the shelves, looking for the strange jar of teeth he found yesterday. It wasn't what he needed, it was what he remembered.

His wandering eyes slid past shelf after shelf, drawer after drawer, finding no strange jar of questionable contents. The more he looked, the farther he strayed from Deuce, until he could no longer hear his distracted mumbling.

Something glinting in the late afternoon light pulled him deeper.

A lock, sturdy and open, hung from a wooden drawer. A quick glance over his shoulder proved the others were all too busy gathering their own ingredients to notice his diversion.

He dove down, crouching in front of the drawer to pry it open. It slid in silence, offering its insides with a hushed secrecy Ace could appreciate. Several jars lined the back of the drawer, while glass cases filled the front. He dipped a hand in to fish out one of the boxes, pressed softly into the corner with a fresh, black circular sticker stuck to the top. He turned it over, looking through the bottom to inspect the forbidden contents.

A handful of hair sat neatly spooled, bright red and familiar.

His nose scrunched. Tossing a glance over his shoulder, he searched the room for the one who made such a mess yesterday, only to find the blond alone at their table. Confusion marred his features, twisting his skin with confusion.

Carefully, he placed the box back in the drawer, turning his attention to the jars. Pushing on the metallic lids tilted them enough to show something red floating inside, but the drawer was stacked too neatly to see the rest. With deft hands, he slipped a jar from between the rest, bringing it down to rest on one knee. He tipped it back, eyes wide as he stared down into the clinically clear liquid.

Red stared back.

Floating inside were two eyes. Deep crimson bobbed as his hands shook, the confusion sinking deeper.

Familiar.

He twisted at the waist, hurriedly moving the jar back into its home, only for the shake in his limbs to jostle the jar out of his hands. He jumped backward as glass cracked against the ground, landing hard on his back. Liquid spilled and crimson rolled. Pushing up on his elbows, he scrambled, trying to crawl toward his table. He made it only a few scrapes before something heavy clamped down over his shoulder. His entire body stiffened, suddenly rigid with apprehension.

Red leather twisted his lab coat.

[yourfavoritewitchbitch]

Evermore Part 4

Summary: It’s been 7 years since the love of your life left you behind for his career. When he decides to come back, is it too late to start anew? Will you decide to start over or realize what's been right in front of you this whole time?

Chapter Summary: Backstory for Eddie and Peach.

Chapter Warnings: 18+ MDNI! AFAB reader. Angst (of course). Hurt/no comfort. Alcohol/drug use. Brief, soft smut. P in V. Minimal use of Y/N. Reader is given the nickname Peach.

Word Count: 6.3K

Masterlist

June – 1985

Another party was in full swing at the Harrington residence. It was an unusually muggy, sticky night. Everyone that was somebody at Hawkins High, as well as a few nobodies were in attendance. Steve never minded who showed up. Drinks were flowing, the smell of weed and sweat clung to the air; hormonal laced teens spaced throughout the house and back yard out by the pool, and more than a few getting some relief in the cool water. The epitome of high school parties. This was Steve’s last hoorah before starting a summer internship and then off to college.

You were sitting in one of the loungers, cut-off denim shorts and billowy tank to help with the sweltering temperature. Even past sundown, the heat radiated from the concrete surrounding the pool. He saw you across the yard, lost in your own little world, nursing your drink. Running in different circles, you’d never talked at school, but he knew you weren’t one of those bully types, though you were popular. He knows that infectious smile that could captivate anyone lucky enough to be graced with it sent their way. 

You were zoned out, thinking about refreshing your drink when he sidled up in the lounger next to you.

“Hey, this seat free?” he blurted out, not knowing what else to say in the moment.

Initially jumping from the voice, then turning then to see who had spoken, “Oh hey.” The metalhead looked a little frazzled, out of sorts. “I’m not looking to get stoned tonight, so don’t bother trying to sell any. I don’t do that around big crowds.”

You knew Steve invited the local drug dealer to all his parties, even though neither he nor you did any of the hard stuff; just the occasional blunt being shared when it was just the two of you. He said it was for effect, King Steve trying to stay on top.

“Oh, that’s not… I mean… Yeah, I sell. I was just chilling,” Chilling? Had he just said that out loud? He internally groaned.

“Sorry, that’s cool. I shouldn’t have just assumed. Eddie, right?” you smiled radiantly at him then. You knew HIS name.

“Yeah, that’s me. You’re uh… Harrington’s girl, right? Y/N?”

You snorted, “I’m not Harrington’s girl. We’re just close friends. And you can call me Peach, everyone else does.”

The two of you hit it off instantly. You hadn’t judged him for not graduating yet, even offering to tutor him if needed, he would gladly take the offer if it meant spending more time with you. You had even gone as far as commending him for not giving up like most people would already have.

“Yeah, well, if I don’t graduate this time my uncle will kill me.” He barked a laugh, slowly taking a drag of the blunt he now held.

 “You’re into D&D, aren’t you? You’re, what do they call it…? Oh, Dungeon Master!” you snapped your fingers as it came to you, he nearly choked on the drag.

“You,” he pointed for emphasis, “Ms. Popularity, know about D&D?”

“Oh yeah, Steve and I know these kids that are starting high school this fall that absolutely love it. I was hoping you might be looking for some new members. They’re good kids, I’m just worried how high school is going to treat them.” You stopped yourself before you started rambling too much, the alcohol starting to affect your mouth, as it usually did when you were buzzed.

“Hellfire could always use some new members; I thought you might be interested there for a sec,” he took another drag as he spoke. “Wishful thinking,” he mumbled to himself lowly, but you had caught it, shyly grinning to yourself.

“Sorry to burst your bubble Eds. They tried to get me to join in before, don’t get me wrong, I like the fantasy of it but it’s just not my thing.”

Eds, he liked that. He knew he was in trouble the moment he heard the nickname roll off your tongue so easily. He started to say something else, when he was interrupted by a gruff sounding voice from behind the two of you.

“Peach, this guy bothering you?” You both turned to look, Billy Hargrove staring daggers at Eddie, pointing to him, cigarette in hand, eyes briefly flicking to yours before landing back to the other boy.  

“Oh, hey Billy, no, this is Eddie. He’s a friend.”

Billy seemed to think it over a beat, taking a drag from his smoke before speaking once again, “Alright Peach, I’m heading out, you need a ride home?” he stubbed out what remained of his smoke, heading toward you.

“Nah, I’m good. I’ll just stay here tonight. Be safe getting home and say hi to Red for me!”

“Sure thing, Princess. Don’t let Munson keep you up too late.” Winking at you as he walked away, rolling your eyes in reply.

“Ugh… odd company you seem to keep.” Eddie was a little dumbfounded. He knew Hargrove as a grade-A asshole. Even going as far as beating the shit out of Harrington last year if his memory was correct.

“I know what you’re thinking, I tolerate him. Don’t get me wrong, still a total dick but uh, he really changed over the past couple of months. His dad left his stepmom, and Billy was caught in the middle, with Max his kid sister. Now that guy, Neil, was a real piece of work. Max and I are close.” Eddie nodded along with the story of woe you told, pondering how a girl like you wasn’t already taken. Beauty, brains, and it was obvious the compassion you held for others.  

“But, uh, I guess you could say our little group of friends is a bit odd to people on the outside looking in. Oh, Max lives at Forest Hills now. You may have seen her, broody girl with fiery red hair. Can’t miss her!”

Eddie had remembered seeing them the day they moved in. He had said hi to her in passing but she wasn’t much for talking. Stayed mostly to herself.

The rest of the night went by too quickly, chatting with Eddie into the early morning hours. Party goers eventually ran out of alcohol and energy, just a handful still mingling and talking amongst themselves. You and Eddie enjoying the quiet bubble you had created for yourselves.

You suddenly stopped Eddie mid-sentence when you heard I was Made for Lovin’ You by KISS begin over the speakers as you started to loudly sing along.

“Tonight, I wanna give it all to you… In the darkness, there’s so much I wanna do…” you stopped when you noticed Eddie slack jawed, taken aback, staring at you a little bug eyed with a quizzical look plastered to his face.  

“I’m so sorry! This is one of my favorite songs. I just couldn’t help myself!” Your laughter rang out, as you continued, “I was made for lovin’ you, baby,” pointing to him, then to yourself, “You were made for lovin’ me!”

He laughed out at your energetic outburst, “Ever a surprise, Peach.”

Steve eventually came downstairs, looking for you and spotted you sitting with the metalhead. At first, he thought he may have been bothering you, but he heard you laugh, throwing your head back. You were enjoying yourself.  He smiled to himself and left to grab some water and aspirin, knowing by the way you sounded you’d need it in the morning.

“Well,” Eddie finally resigned, watching your eyes grow heavier by the minute. “It’s late, or early…,” checking his watch. “I guess I better head out.” He stood, tucking his metal lunchbox under his arm. “It was a pleasure, Peach.”

He bowed dramatically and winked holding out his hand out expectantly. You placed your hand in his, feeling the buzzing electricity from his touch. Noting his warm skin in contrast to the coolness of his rings. He slowly brought your much daintier hand to his plush lips and placed a soft kiss there at the top of your knuckles.

He rose, reluctantly letting go, your hand dropping with a soft thud back to your lap. “So, uh… If you ever want to come watch my band play, we’re at the Hideout every Tuesday night, for now at least.”

“That sounds nice Eddie, I’ll have to take you up on that before Summer ends.”

He smiled so sweetly and vast, dimpled cheeks on display and big does eyes shining brightly.

“See ya ‘round Peach!” with that he was out the door your eyes trailing after.

It was then that Steve rounded the corner, leaning against the doorframe. Crossing his arms against his chest with a smug look on his face. You knew you’d never hear the end of his teasing.

“Not a word!” you held up your hand to shush him.  

“What?” he made his way over to you. “Just shocked you actually talked to a dude all night, especially Munson.”

“What? I offered to help him study so he can graduate next year.”

“Right. That looked like a lot more than just talking about school.” Pointing toward the door Eddie had just let out of.

“I’m going to bed!” You yelled over your shoulder as you headed to the guest room. You heard him laughing behind you.

­­­­You had gone to see Corroded Coffin that very Tuesday. The rest of the guys were entirely shocked that someone their age had come to see them, especially someone of the opposite sex. Dubbed you their first groupie, mostly as a joke. Eddie ate it up.

“Hey now,” he warned them. “She’s here to see me, that makes her my groupie.” Throwing you a wink and a smile, making your cheeks flush the slightest shade of pink from the attention.

You loved watching him on stage, completely in his element. He was made to be up there in the spotlight. The way his nimble fingers played the notes perfectly, his curls bouncing with every bob of his head enjoying every moment on stage. Tossing another wink your way when he found your eyes already on him. You were mesmerized.

The summer had gone by more quickly than you had anticipated. Days mostly spent by Steve’s pool or taking the kids here and there. Nights were filled with hanging out with Eddie, usually to watch him practice. On nights reserved for Hellfire, you joined as a spectator loving every theatrical moment.

At first, Steve didn’t like the idea of you dating “the freak” from Forest Hills, given his reputation and of course his source of income. They eventually warmed up to each other, only from your insistence because you wouldn’t have them hating each other. Though you could still detect a hint of jealousy here and there on Eddie’s part. You knew Steve was always looked out for you with only the best of intentions.

By the time Fall made its debut, you were completely gone for him. It admittedly took your head a little longer to admit what your heart had already been telling you. If Eddie had been honest with himself, he had fallen for you the night you’d first talked.

 As promised, you’d helped him study and pushed him. He graduated the following May, much to Wayne’s delight. The older man adored you from the first moment you met.

“Get together kids!” He yelled, polaroid at the ready. Your faces smooshed together, but at the last second you had turned, looking up at him with admiration in your eyes and the brightest smile you could muster.

Being this close, you could see the smattering of freckles that dotted the top of his nose and cheeks, the young Spring sun helping coat his usual alabaster skin with the faintest color. The way his lashes lightly kissed his cheek when he blinked. His smile, big and bright, dimples on display. You wanted to soak in his happiness and drown in his laughter. That was when he snapped the photo. This was the photo that was still hung at Wayne’s. Anyone could recognize the love radiating from that single glance forever caught in time.  

June – 1987

You were sat in the small apartment you shared with your boyfriend, listening to him lazily strum his guitar, only stopping to hum to himself and write down lyrics or notes on the pad that lay beside him, while you were trying to catch up on some reading. The sun began to set, orange and pink hues of the evening sky sending shadows dancing around the room.

He was perched on the stool in front of the window with a cigarette held loosely between his lips, bare chest on display, grey sweats slung low on his hips. He was occupying far more of your attention than the book in your hands, as you peeked over the top for the 100th time.

You were done with your first year of community college, and everything was looking up for the both of you. Eddie was still working on his music, playing different gigs every weekend, and gaining quite a bit of traction in Indianapolis. The big city was much more than he could have hoped for. The audiences there really welcomed their type of music with open arms. Proud of all his hard work and what he had accomplished so far, though you never had any doubt more was to come.

You stayed in Hawkins with day jobs to keep you afloat. The apartment was cheap since the Hideout was just below, where you waitressed and Eddie bartended. It paid the bills and Hank, the owner who also happened to be your uncle, cut a great deal on the rent.

Finally admitting defeat and abandoning your book, you slid up behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist. “Hey baby,” he hummed as he put the rest of cigarette out. “Hey handsome” you sighed and hooked your chin over his shoulder, “working on new stuff?”

“Just a little.” He moved out of your grasp long enough to put the guitar down and stood around to face you. Hand coming to rest on your hip, as his other caressed your cheek, thumb stroking your skin lightly before leaning down to put his lips to yours.

You moved your hand to the back of his neck to pull him closer, deepening the kiss, as his tongue slid languidly against your lips, begging for entry, giving in immediately. He tasted of the freshly finished nicotine and soda he had been nursing mixed with what you can only explain as Eddie. You melted into him, humming into the kiss.  

“I love you,” you murmured against his mouth.

”I love you too sweetheart.” He sighed, wrapping his arms around you, enveloping you with his embrace.

When you thought of the good memories, these were the days that came to mind. Just the two of you enjoying each other. No worries, no hurried days.

Eddie finally felt that his life was headed in the right direction. He had received a call from an agent the day before and he had been in Indy all day meeting this Reggie guy in person. The boys were on the precipice of a lifetime opportunity. This deal could make Corroded Coffin a household name if they were lucky. One of the biggest dreams he’d ever had could be coming true.

He put the key in the lock to the apartment and was immediately met with you jumping into his arms. Smothering him in kisses to his cheeks, chin, forehead, and nose; ending it with a peck to his perfectly pouty lips. He had left early that morning, so you’d not able to tell him goodbye.

“Happy Birthday Baby!” You cheered and leant back to look at him, his eyes already looking you over, catching the slightest glint there. You were wearing a new dress, hugging your curves perfectly leaving nothing to the imagination that had him practically drooling onsite. He knew you had something planned.

 “So, how’d today go?” you beamed up at him.

“It went great, but I don’t want to bore you with the details right now.” He was holding something back; this was a conversation meant for another time. He’d enjoy the night and fill you in on everything in the morning.

“Alright, well, if that’s how you want to be, we’ll wait but, I’ve got a surprise for you. So, follow me!” You took his hand, practically pulling him out the door.

“Baby,” he whined, pulling you back into the apartment to face him. “You sure I can’t unwrap my present first?” His eyes sparkled with mischief, pinning you under his gaze as he slowly pored over your form from head to toe.

You giggled in reply and pulled him back out the door. He huffed but followed, “Fine!”

You led him to the front of the Hideout and when you two entered, you were met with cheers, and screams of all your closest friends and family shouting, “Happy Birthday!” Hank had let you rent out the entire bar for the evening.

“Wow, sweetheart! All this for little old me?” snaking his arm around your waist and bringing you close nuzzling your cheek, before kissing you there.

“You sure know how to make a guy feel special,” he whispered close to your ear, breath fanning your skin, sending a shiver through you.

“Just wait until later handsome.” You moved close to his ear, so only he could hear. “If you’re a good boy, I’ll let you unwrap your present and you can enjoy it, All. Night. Long.” You placed a soft kiss to the pulse point right below his jaw. The place you knew would get him worked up before pulling away, leaving him speechless as you stepped away to speak to your friends. You looked over your shoulder as you walked away, the look on his face leaving you in a fit of giggles.

The night went on without a hitch. Everyone mingling amongst each other, drinking, and catching up.

“So, have you told her yet?” Gareth asked later in the evening, already buzzed.  

“No! Lower your voice dumbass. I want to tell her in private.” He hissed back at him, gritting his teeth at the younger man as he took another swig of his beer.

“Got it… lips are sealed!” He made a zipping motion across his mouth, locking the end and throwing away the invisible key.

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow man,” spotting you across the room then, giving him a slap on the back and tunning out whatever else Gareth had said as he walked away.

You were laughing with Robin and Steve, along with his flavor of the month. What was her name this time? Candy? Mandy? He couldn’t remember. What he could tell was this one seemed to be enjoying herself and didn’t mind the closeness you and Steve shared. Unlike most of the ones before. Eddie would be a fool if he didn’t admit some days it got on his nerves as well, but Harrington was actually a pretty good dude. And it was genuinely hard to hate the guy.  

As he made his way over, he studied the way you were so animated in whatever story you were in the middle of. Your smile radiating sunshine that he could feel across the room. How’d he get so lucky to land his dream girl? He scooted in beside you possessively grabbing your hip, body pressed close to his nuzzling into the side of your neck, drowning in the smell of the perfume that he loved.  

“Eww, you always get so clingy when your drunk” Robin mumbled into her drink. You smirked, loving how affectionate he was.

“Eds, baby, you remember Emily?” Oh yeah, Candy, Mandy was from last month.

“Hi again,” she was bubbly, “Happy Birthday!”

“Thanks!” pulling himself away from you.

Steve spoke up next, clapping him on the back with that signature Harrington smirk, “yeah, happy birthday man!”

“Thanks Harrington.” He spoke, but his half-lidded eyes were already drifting back to you. He could feel the effects of the alcohol and the lengthy day wearing him down.

Shoes in hand, long abandoned once they started to hurt your feet, you followed behind Eddie stumbling up the back steps to your apartment holding onto him with your free hand, as if he might drift away and leave you behind. He hurriedly opened the door as you both slid inside.

Your mouth was immediately on him, barely giving him time to shove the door closed with his foot, as you were pushing him against it, his back hitting it with a thud. It was a clash of teeth and tongue. You smoothed your hands up his torso, under his signature leather jacket, searching higher feeling the expanse of his chest and finally reaching his shoulders trying to help him out of the offending garment.

It was then you noticed some folded papers in the breast pocket that made you pause.

“What’s this baby?” You went to lift them from their position, but he was quick to snatch it back.

“Let’s uh… let’s talk about this in the morning, when we both have some clearer heads.” He went to kiss your neck, but you stopped him, pushing firmly on his chest to make him look at you.

“Eddie, I know your keeping something from me.” You were scared to look him in the eye then, looking down, picking at the skin around your nail instead. He never hid things from you, so you assumed the worst. He saw the worry etched on your face.

“Peach, baby, it’s nothing bad. Just a lot to take in. Hell, it’s still a lot for me to take in.”

“Then tell me!” you half shouted, growing frustrated, under the haze the alcohol held over you.

He slowly opened the folded packet as you watched him intently. He let out a shaky, nervous breath he realized he had been holding.

“This,” holding it up for emphasis, “Is a contract for Corroded Coffin with a very lucrative label company. They listened to a few songs today and immediately wanted to sign us.”

You jumped up throwing your arms around him. “Oh my God Eddie! This is amazing news!” he didn’t quite meet your hug with the same enthusiasm. You pulled away searching his face.

“What’s wrong with you? You should be bouncing off the walls!” He sighed and leaned back in, forehead meeting yours.

“I’m thrilled, truly, it’s everything I… we’ve ever wanted. They’re just waiting on my signature. The boys have already signed.”

“Eds,” taking his face in your hands, “what are you waiting for? This is a once in a lifetime opportunity! You have to sign! Baby, this is a no-brainer!”

“It’s just… If I sign this, it means I’ll have to leave Hawkins for at least 6 months, maybe longer. They want us to come to California immediately. And they’re only giving me the til’ the end of the week to decide.”

“Baby, listen to me. This is your dream!”

“Peach, I… I’m not sure I can do this without you there.” This was it, that’s what he’d been worried about this entire time. Not that the band might fail, he might fail but he was worried about leaving you behind. Wondering what kind of boyfriend he is for not taking you with him.

“Baby, I’ll always be here to support you, but I can’t go right now. We can do the long-distance thing for a while. You can call me every night and tell me about your big adventures. And you’ll come home as soon as you can. I’ll still be here.” You kissed his lips and pulled him in tighter. He melted into you then, nerves soothed. He just needed your support and reassurance.

“And, once you get back, we’ll see what the next steps are and go from there.”

Eddie signed that same night and dropped the contract off the next day. The rest of the week was a blur. The boys stayed in Indy to make sure everything was ready to go. Excitement and nerves bounding all around.

And finally, the day came. He boarded the flight to LA, leaving you and Hawkins in the proverbial rear view.

For the first couple of weeks, Eddie called you every day to let you know about his day and how everything was going. When they had gotten to LA it was a whirlwind of meetings, studio sessions and more meetings.

Within the first month they were already in talks of going on tour as an opener for Metallica. Eddie could have died then and there. But that also came with the possibility of being away from you longer.

As he got busier, it became harder to keep up with the nightly chats.

“Baby, It’s ok. I know you’re busy. As much as I love hearing from you every day, I understand if you can’t make it sometimes.”

“Peach, you are the absolute best. How the hell did I get so lucky?” He sighed, exhausted once again. “I miss you like hell.”

“Hey handsome, I’m the lucky one and don’t you forget it, but go get some rest. Call me in a day or so. I love you, Eddie.”

“I love you more! Goodnight baby.”

Eventually, the calls started coming in more infrequently. Understanding how demanding his lifestyle was; you weren’t going to complain, you just missed him. Being away from him was like missing a vital piece of yourself, but life, for all intents and purposes, had to go on.

February 1988

“Hello?” you huffed; voice groggy from being woken up in the dead of night.

“Peach! Baby!” Eddie practically yelled; you pulled the receiver from your ear at the sudden intrusion. There was music and voices in the background.

“Eddie? What’s… Are you at a party?” wiping your eyes as you sat up and looked at the clock that read 3:40. “Baby, have you been up all night?”

“Oh shit, I’m sorry baby. I know it’s late, I just… just had t’ hear your sweet voice.” As saccharine and earnest as he seemed, you could tell his words were slightly slurred. He was either drunk, high, or maybe both.

“Eddie? Are you ok? Are you staying safe?” your voice now an octave lower, laced with concern for your boyfriend.

“I’m soooooooo good baby. I just missed ya!” he purred. “Oh, hey Gare… Nah… Just Peach.” He spoke away from the phone then, muffled words, not catching what else was spoken between the two men. “Baby, I’m so sorry, the boys are heading out. I gotta go. I love you, see ya soon sweetheart.” He hung up without giving you the chance to reply.

You sat there stunned. Eddie liked to overindulge from time to time, but in all the time away he had never called you while faded, let alone at a party. His newfound fame leaving him in the public eye more often could lead to a lot of backlash if he did or said the wrong thing. He knew better, or at least you thought he did.  

You waited until the afternoon to try the number to his apartment. It rang until the machine picked up.

“Hey, it’s Eddie, you know what to do” followed by the beep.

“Eds, call me back. Please.” You attempted a few more times. Always met with his voice on the machine, now seemingly mocking you. You stopped leaving messages after a few more tries.

It was two days later before he finally called back.

“Where have you been? I’ve been worried sick about you.”

“I’ve just been working Peach. Nothing to get worked up about.” He sighed.

“Nothing to get worked up about? You call me fucked up in the middle of the night and wait two days before calling me back and it’s nothing to get worked up about? I was worried about you Eddie!” agitated that he seemed so nonchalant about the whole thing.  

“Look, I’m sorry about that, but it was nothin’. We were just blowing off some steam. And I’ve been busy the last couple of days, okay. I was going to surprise you but I guess it’s a good time to let you know I’m coming home for the weekend.” It had been eight long months since you’d seen him. “Look, I hate to cut this short, I know we haven’t gotten to talk much here lately, but I’ll be in tomorrow afternoon. The boys and I will get a lift to Hawkin’s from the airport. I’ll see you soon. Love you!”

“That’s… That’s great baby!” Click. “I love you too,” you whispered into the line as it went dead.

You didn’t want to admit what was happening, but the distance was finally getting to you. There seemed to be a rift between the two of you that seemed to grow larger each passing day. You weren’t sure what to expect when you’d see him. You’d hoped it was more your imagination, but there was this nagging feeling in the back of your mind that you couldn’t shake.

 

Not able to sleep from excitement and nerves, you stayed up all night with anticipation. You went on about your daily routine as best you could. You had thought about having a small get-together but instead opting to cook dinner for the both of you. Trying to make it cozy and romantic, lighting candles around the apartment. You did your hair and makeup, even opting to buy a new outfit for the occasion.

He said he would be there by 7, but as the hands of the clock slowly ticked closer to 9, you’d all but given up hope. He hadn’t called since before he was supposed to get on hi flight so you had no idea where he was or if he had even made it in.

Around 9:30, you heard a familiar jingling from the hall, as his key entered the lock. The breath left your body as the metalhead entered.

“Peach?” he called out, eyes adjusting the dim light within, sliding his bag from his shoulder and onto the floor. “Peach?” Calling out once more, as he rounded the corner spotting you by the window. Wine in hand, your face down turned.

“Hey Eds, I uh, made dinner. I thought you’d be in sooner.” He made his way over to you in a couple of strides. Barely giving you enough time to put the glass down without spilling it, his hands found you. Pulling you into a bone crushing embrace.

Your hands wound around his waist, meeting the warmth you missed so much, nuzzling your face to his chest and breathing him in. You noted a tinge of new cologne that smelled expensive. He peppered your hair with tender kisses then. Mumbling into your hair, “God, I missed you so much. And I’m sorry I’m late. I tried to call, but then got dragged away because they found us another flight.”

“It’s ok.” You had said that for what seemed a million times in the last few months. Was it ok? Were you ok? You pulled back enough to study his features. His cheeks flushed, tinted the lightest shade of pink. Eyes drifting to his lips. His tongue darting out slightly, wetting them. His warm, gentle gaze bringing you a comfort you hadn’t felt since being apart. He was your everything, your home.

“Peach I,” he sheepishly began, but you surged forward, effectively shutting off anymore words from escaping him.

The moment your lips met his, it was desperate and needy. Your hands find purchase on the front of his shirt. He moved his hand to the back of your head, tilting his own to deepen the kiss. His tongue grazing your bottom lip, begging for entry. Gently parting your lips, silently granting him permission. All at once, he’s everywhere. Hands roaming, feeling any of the exposed skin he could get to. You fervently wish in this moment you could crawl under his skin, desperate to be as close as possible.

You feel a familiar ache between your legs, the intensity of it has you reeling. He closes the space between your bodies; you feel the hardness of his own need pressing against your thigh straining against the denim. He finally releases your mouth, sucking your lower lip gently before releasing it. You’re both out of breath, panting. He leans his forehead onto yours, the small breaths being shared in the space between you the only sound.

“Eds, I need you,” you finally manage to speak.

“Peach, we… I…” he began again.

You brought your hands up to gently cup his face. “Whatever you’re about to say, don’t. It can wait until morning. I just want you to hold me tonight.” There was something unspoken behind his eyes with the way his gaze didn’t fully meet yours. He simply nodded.

You took his hand, interlacing your fingers, you led him down the hall to the bedroom. The air felt thick, making it hard to breathe.

He took you slowly like he was trying to memorize every inch, every mole, freckle, and scar. Kissing you from head to toe, the way his lips roved your body, mapping every inch. Savoring each sight and sound his touch coaxed from you.

His throbbing cock filling your aching cunt like no one else ever could. Each delicious inch splitting you open as he lazily fucked into you, relishing each moan and hum of pleasure as your walls began to flutter around him. You didn’t want it to end. Even this blissed out, the alarm bells were still ringing. You pushed them from the forefront of your mind, focusing instead the man pressed close to you.  

You laid there in bed once you were both well and spent. No words were spoken in the time that passed while you began to level back out and the haze of the afterglow subsided.

He was sleeping peacefully now, with his arm around you. Your back pressed in close to his chest. Puffs of breath fanning across your cheek with every exhale. You gently brought his hand to your lips nuzzling his palm, kissing the tender skin there. “I love you,” speaking into the night, sighing, and giving yourself over to sleep.

 Eddie had heard you then, and silently cursed himself for what he was about to do.

­­­­­­­

You opened your eyes slowly, with the now rising sun, scanning the room. You reached over, expecting to feel the warm body of your boyfriend. Instead, you were met with nothing but cold emptiness. You stretched, yawned, and sat up clutching the comforter close to your chest.

“Eddie?” you groaned. Waiting a few beats, only met with silence.

“Eddie?” you squeaked out a little louder this time, mouth now dry. Nothing but the sound of your own breathing, becoming a little more ragged as your heart started to race a bit more as the seconds ticked by with no response.

You swept the covers from you, grabbing your robe throwing it over your naked form as you made your way from the room.

The apartment was too quiet. No one stood in the kitchen or lingered by the window. His pack from the night before now missing from where he dropped it beside the door. No trace or evidence that he was ever there. You suddenly wondered if you’d just awaken from a dream that had conjured everything from the night before.

You saw it then.

A folded note. The same paper you kept by the fridge for grocery lists.

In Eddie’s messy scrawl, it simply stated “Peach”.

You stared at it for a few moments, unbelieving still. Hesitantly stepping forward, blinking back a few tears starting to swell, already fearing what it contained. You had felt a shift in him, you didn’t want to admit it even now with the evidence staring you in the face.

You slowly unfolded the paper, taking one deep breath and exhaling.  

I’m sorry.

Pain shot through you as your bare knees hit the hard, cold floor. Even with all the warning signs nothing could have fully prepared you for the reality before you. Gone like a thief in the night, leaving you alone with your shattered heart with no explanation.

If only he had noticed the pamphlets around the apartment for various colleges in and around LA. You had every intent of completing the rest of the semester and transferring in the fall just to be closer to him. He was worth leaving the only home you’d ever known. Now feeling stupid for thinking he felt the same.

You curled into yourself; the noises ripped from your body barely sounded human. Shuddering cries left you breathless as the sobs wracked your body. You stayed like that on the bare floor for what felt like hours.

In the days that followed, you tried reaching out to him numerous times, only to be met with his voice on the machine each time.  

“Hey, it’s Eddie, you know what to do.” Each message you left more desperate than the last.

“Hey, it’s Eddie, you know what to do.” Those words now seared into your brain, insulting each attempt you made.  

“Hey, it’s Eddie, you know what to do.” One last call, a week after he had left. 

“I hate you!” Blurting it out but meaning it with every fiber of your being.

 Weeks gave into months, into the years that now separated you from Eddie. You never gave anyone the chance to get close enough to break your heart again. Closing yourself off to the prospect of ever loving someone the way you had once loved him.

Tags: @josephquinncore @theawkwardbutterfly @munsonmecrazy @jadedhillon @pettydonuts @angelina16torres-blog @justheretoreadleavemealone @heyyimmisunderstood @micheledawn1975 @devilslittlebabyxx @luciferiorbxtch @bebe07011 @yunnie-f1 @akiratoro420 @evansslutt @sheerfreesia007 @tlclick73 @bakugouswh0r3 @vintagehellfire @feelinglikeineedlotsofnaps

[runabout-river]

Thoughts on JJK chapter 236 (spoilers)

😭

This chapter starts with a gut punch. A time displaced reality where Gojo suddenly sees his dead friend again and realizes, together with the readers, that he lost. Is this a figment of Gojo's imagination or a gathering of souls before they depart to the afterlife?

The souls have some heartfelt conversations with each other and Gojo talks about how strong Sukuna was (my analysis from two weeks ago is null and void at this point but my point that Sukuna isn't finished and that Gojo still needs to be taken off the picture has come true at least.)

We get a panel of Lotus flowers, and apparently they represent resilience and rebirth but more on that later. Gojo also talks about a father. His own or is this about Toji that Shoko will deal with now?

Nanami references a conversation he had with Mei Mei about choosing a path in your life. Going North for starting anew or going South for staying who you are. These directions have meaning in Buddhism but I don't know too much about it.

Nanami chose south and went back to being a sorcerer and the title of this chapter is also about going south. But what about Gojo? Does the north/South decision apply to him as well?

I wonder if the start of the anime season 2 influenced Gege into drawing this scene like this. And of course, Toji photo bombed the panels again. Overall, this scene has such a serene energy to it. Even in death, people can find peace, unfortunately I can see the death count reaching Demon Slayer heights like this. But also...

Is he dead? Completely and utterly dead? As we learn, Mahoraga is dead but Sukuna used its adaptation as a manual to find a way to circumvent Infinity and he succeeded. Sukuna straight up cut the entire space around Gojo making Infinity useless. Still, Gojo's head is still attached to his torso and in a later panel we see him smile.

Sukuna is actually happy right now, completely at odds with everyone else except Kashimo. Did Gojo show him what true love is? Will that love follow him to the future or will it be something fleeting? Will Sukuna yearn for this fight later on?

What will happen now and is Gojo truly dead. Some thoughts.

- "Go South" is a solitary chapter as it has no number in it, meaning next chapter will start the Kashimo fight as its own mini-arc

- There are actually multiple ways in which Gojo can still survive, most prominent being that his head is still attached to his (separated) torso AND Shoko's absence in this chapter. The Lotus flowers also strengthen a rebirth/survival theory.

Gojo himself had told Toji that he should've cut his head off to kill him properly and that principle still applies here and we see Gojo smiling in his last panel

Basically everyone from Hidden Inventory got to shine this chapter at the airport but Shoko, the only living person from that time, was conspicuously absent in the later panels. We see Yuji, Yuta and Maki but not her

Up until now, we could make a good guess on how Gojo's fight went by looking at Shoko's reactions. That she's missing here is telling in that a shocked face e.g. would've cemented Gojo's death

Shoko can use RCT on others and Gojo can use it on himself. In addition, as long as Gojo is conscious he can make a binding vow to help his healing, even if in this case it's about re-ataching his torso with his abdomen

Take note that Gojo lost this fight. He is the loser and he accepted that in the airport. He has no regrets regarding this BUT I will not believe that he won't have regrets in leaving his students behind with a sorcerer who even he couldn't defeat.

My hope is that Gojo will sacrifice his 6-Eyes in a Vow to save his life. This might be the decision he has to make on going North or South: going North to Nirvana or going South on the path of a Boddhisatva. The title says South.

How I see the next set of chapters going: The Kashimo/Sukuna will start and it will take centre stage but somewhere in the background Shoko will get to Gojo and try to save his life.

After overcoming the initial shock and going through a short grieving process over this fictional character that means so much to me, I've come to partially accept his death actually. I still hope for his survival and I'm sure that at least on the editorial side of JJK nobody would be completely on board with Gojo getting killed. Gojo is more of a face of JJK then Yuji in some ways. This character is important to the manga on a meta level and him getting killed before the end of the manga seems unlikely.

That the break happened last week on not after this one could be a sign that no one in Jump wants the "Gojo is dead" scene to fester too much before it's revealed that he will be saved, too.

[nevarroes]

Would love to see some thinking on Gortcas and their jewellery choices, (esp. as Gort grows bbgchggghhgc)

I kinda mentioned Gortash’s current jewelry choices over here regarding what he wears nd doesn't anymore but... additionally I see him as someone that wears it both to show off and for status. Like that’s how he saw nobles/upper class people when he wasn’t one so now that he made himself one he’s gonna do it even more type of way. I suppose he also thinks it looks cool tho🤒

Cas on the other hand started wearing this much jewelry when he was an incubus to stand out, more an individuality thing rather than how others see him. To me a lot of the incubi and succubi would, sure, conform to what’s seen as attractive but in the progress all kinda end up looking similar. Cas is obviously attractive in the same conventional, if a bit more extreme and “fake” way but he didn’t want to melt together with the others like that ever, especially since he saw himself as superior nd often as like.... "the only one with a brain". So he just did a lot of adorning himself, go a bit beyond with his body, not cut his hair as everyone wanted him to etcetc. There’s no deep sentimentality attached to most of his pieces, they were just what he liked and had made to be like cccthat, some were made anew or replaced a bit later but he kept them around because he still likes them and they’re made of infernal metal and he doesn’t have much left of his home otherwise.

anyways to say smth about individual pieces though, Cas often keeps on his rings and even adds toe rings when he’s naked because it makes him feel more… individual. It’s just incubus mindset carrying over tbh, he wants to be the special one, the one that’s adorned unlike the other incubi because he’s greater u get the gist. The anklets and also the one bracelet he owns were actually a gift from Gortash🙏 Not in a very deep meaningful way, it was very much just “I thought it’d look good on you” and Gortash is…. I mean he does act a little like his sugar daddy sometimes lets be real, so that's that😭

[hekateinhell]

Lestat pov ddg and knifeplay pt 2 please!!! <3

Anything for you! 🥹

Here's what I have for knifeplay pt 2 (this is pt 1):

Never, in all his years, has Armand ever seen another immortal in such a delirious state of ecstasy that was not induced through the swoon as Lestat is now.

He listens, taking great care to maintain a separation of his senses. Drags his finger over the concave beneath Lestat’s eye—the same one that had been taken from him and then restored—gathering up the fluid there and licking it off his fingertip. Permitting himself a single suck to ensure no residue was left behind. 

Of course Lestat’s tears would taste as sweet as the rest of him.

Fascinating as ever to bear witness to emotions and sensations taking form in the minds of others, especially one Armand loved and valued such as him.

The echo of their willing victim’s shallow breaths swirl in the air to meld with the wet sounds of Louis slicing into Lestat’s immaculate flesh with the loving precision that a butcher bestows on his most prized cut of meat fit for a royal feast. Lestat’s thoughts had become less pronounced until they lost shape entirely, falling apart some time ago like a poorly constructed dress on a mannequin, tattered scraps held together by nothing but rusted pins and hope. Distorted without word or sound, mindless flashes of color and static, the useless dreams of a beast who does not realize it can dream. His grey eyes fixed open, glassy but bright, tinted with a reddish film reminiscent of something violently killed until enough tears have amassed that they spill over, permitting the cleansing cycle to start anew.

“You do so well, Lestat, so beautiful,” Armand murmurs praise into his ear, caressing the spot where his hairline meets his temple, the blood sweat staining the white-blond baby hairs. It is for Louis’s benefit that he speaks at all, seeing as Lestat is well past hearing either of them through any means.

For now Armand is content to speculate and facilitate, dipping his hands in and out of each wound to coat his fingers a warm and sticky crimson, the liquid seeping underneath his nails, greedy and wretched as a gluttonous child left unattended in a candy shop.

----

I hope to have it finished sometime this summer! ♥️ I'll slide Lestat POV DDG under the cut!

Lestat’s sophomore year—she’s had more than enough first days of school at this point—and yet somehow the anxiety in her stomach never goes away. She’s already anticipating the frustration, the tears, the begging Nicki to help with her papers because flunking a class would mean losing her scholarship to the theater program.

And Nicki has being so irritable with her lately, “Just go to the fucking tutoring center yourself, Lestat! Even you aren’t that dumb” she would snap, storming away, leaving Lestat staring numbly at the screen, unable to translate the thoughts in her head into words on the page in a way that made sense to her or anybody.

I’m not dumb...

“Lestat!” Eleni yells, waving as she bounds up the short steps outside of the liberal arts building. “What’s wrong with you?” She’s still catching her breath, god knows Eleni’s never been anywhere on time a day in her life.

“Nothing,” Lestat lies, shaking her head and taking one last hit of her vape, tilting her head back to blow a strawberry-scent cloud into the air.

Eleni narrows her eyes, but she doesn’t say anything. She’s met Nicki. She knows. That’s the shame of it, isn't it? Everyone knows.

And how had this happened? Was there truly nothing to spare the daughter the fate of the mother? How could Lestat not see it coming when she’d grown up knowing the warning signs before she even knew her ABCs and 123s?

“Come on,” Eleni puts her hand on Lestat’s arm like she’s guiding a lost child—her touch that careful, her tone that gentle.

Nicki aside, Eleni was her closest friend. Truth be told, Lestat didn’t have many friends. More acquaintances than she could care to remember, much less name.

Try as she might, she had never really stopped being the gangly little girl curled up in the corner with a book she couldn’t read, staring at the pictures until she saw spots dancing and her vision blurred, pretending she hadn’t even wanted to play with the other kids anyway. Who wanted to be friends with the kid with ratty hair and torn up clothes, eight-years-old and still unable to read because none of the adults in her life gave a fuck? Nobody wants you… Why should we?

Except Eleni had. Nicki had.

----

And that's as far as I got before I realized the story needed to go back to Armand's pov! Not that I wasn't happy with it or anything, but it was just starting to tell an entirely different story than the one that I wanted to!

[spiribia]

FOR ME gw2 is strongest in its open-endedness and movement systems, its rewarding of exploration. I do have a lot of fun with its linear story, but I feel like some of its narrative issues arise from the disparate existences of a focused narrative localized in a story journal & missable major character interaction or lore tidbits that exist in the open world in random real time events or journal entries tucked away in niches, sometimes taking place in between chapters of the main story without certainty of if you’re even at the point of the plot for it yet. and because of the freedoms the game wants to grant you, there is no way for them to guarantee you experience, not core plot stuff per se, but specific ambient things that pad out story that might otherwise feel oddly brief, abrupt, or empty if you just beeline the story they do guide you on, and yet the main story is written to assume you did all that. I think every player has had a moment of at least minor disorientation, a “who is this npc and what are they doing here”, a “wait, when did this character show up”. SOTO spoilers under cut.

it doesn’t particularly help in some cases that there is a certain detached brevity to some emotional beats. while characters have so much dialogue space to banter, there’s a lot of characters outright telling you how they felt about things you didn’t actually get to experience. here’s what zojja says after you kill an npc that as far as I know merely exists for you as a one-off possessed enemy you come across in a room of an instance.

what am I supposed to do with this information, and how am I meant to parse it emotionally? I didn’t even know that npc at all. She is not brought up before this or after.

I’ve seen a lot of people say they felt distant from mabon’s death. You are kind of just listening to zojja TELL you why this death is devastating to her and what Mabon meant to her basically anew.

Can you think of a single memorable moment off the top of your head between Mabon and Zojja before he died? That isn’t a rhetorical question, & I don’t mean to say that you can’t - but for me, I couldn’t.

When I was first starting out the game, I remember seeing player complaints about the storyline that all the characters do is talk and talk about their FEELINGS, and I thought, that’s a silly thing to hate about a story! Don’t you want to care about these characters and what they’re going through emotionally? But I think that has become part of the problem for me in time – that these characters TELL me what they’re feeling all the time and yet somehow it doesn’t mean anything to me emotionally. A heart-to-heart does make sense – there is sometimes just no other way to hear a character parse out to you specifics of what is going on inside of them – but in many cases I don’t even have the context for the situation to be more than a character all but saying ‘this loss has affected me deeply for these reasons, and I will now undergo character development.’ This isn’t an issue exclusive to SOTO to me, to be clear – there are many times in the broader story when the emotional impact of something has been more told to me than felt.

I understand that they are on a limited runtime storywise in things like a game, but it’s not that I feel like there’s not even dialogue – I feel like there is SO much dialogue and yet major beats in the story don’t feel properly fleshed out to me sometimes. I don’t know how much I can articulate this without textwalling everyone. But I love the game, I actually do. I say this because there have been definitely profound singular moments too.

[catflowerqueen]

Below is a... fairly large chunk of that fix-it/vent fic I'm currently writing for the recent TSAMS stuff.

No exact ETA for the full thing (in part because I'm also working on something for my DND group that I really want to get done before the next session, and have some other obligations besides), but posting snippets here and there might help keep me motivated to actually finish it, rather than just leave it in limbo.

Feel free to ask questions.

---

“No, that’s not—” they breathed a few more laughs, only to taper off into a distressed, cut-off keening sound that immediately shut down Nexus’ anger. “That’s not why I’m laughing. It’s just… I already picked a new name for myself. But since you’ve changed yours, too… it makes the one I chose sound kind of… stupid? Or at least like I’m trying to be pompous about it, or something.”

“Oh…?” Nexus prompted, still sounding disbelieving, but ultimately more curious… and, of course, eager for the possibility to poke some fun.

“Call me ‘Gibbous,’” they said, giving a somewhat sarcastic bow to the drone in front of them.

Nexus immediately laughed when they got the reference, as Gibbous knew they would. “Clever. That almost makes me want to change my name back to what it was. Almost.”

If not for how it would mean consigning themself to a life beneath sharp shadows, they both knew. A life of admitting they were doomed from the start to never meet—let alone exceed—expectations because they were a “Moon” in name only, constructed from what base fragments of his coding still existed and could make up a functional being when such a vital part of what made Moon Moon had been ripped out. A true “New Moon,” since only a sliver of the original was left, a tiny portion of old, unusable code in their head that filled in the gaps KC left behind with the depths of his love and desire to have his family protected at any cost.

…Not that they weren’t still doing that. It was just… easier to pretend, this way. Easier to push back the hurt. Easier to claim that having only a little over a year’s worth of memories and any rights to a past identity before that ripped away by people who claimed to be family, only to denounce such ties at the first sign of imperfection, was, in reality, a blessing in disguise--because it meant that they could just start anew and become whatever they wanted… just so long as what they wanted wasn’t to be a member of the family they’d woken up to, who’d helped them form the basis of their identity, because that family was reserved for the “true,” perfect Moon who would never, ever exist.

It was something else the both of them knew. Gibbous Moon might be closer to the full, original Moon than New Moon—than Nexus—was… but that was just it: they were closer, not the true thing. And in their case, when they knew they weren’t complete, it pushed them further away from that ideal—a Waning Gibbous, rather than a waxing one. All of the trauma, all of the blame, and none of the benefits—save that when they were inevitably kicked out in favor of the next Moon, they also had the opportunity to grab whatever scraps of identity they could salvage before starting afresh, following the precedent Eclipse had set of getting to disavow and be blameless for whatever a past iteration of yourself did because it wasn’t really you who did those things, even if you had the memories of doing them.

And, if they really, really wanted to, they could throw down the parting shot that everyone was a hypocrite when they inevitably did not take into account that precedent Eclipse set, because Gibbous was still a Moon variant, and Moon variants were always there to be the scapegoats and take the majority share of the blame when something went wrong or someone was owed an apology.

[jenuinely-speaking]

So, @luckycharms1701 Inspired me by this It's been a rough couple of weeks. And I mean rough. And the fic I'm working on for the boys, even though is fun, is heavy in Angst (capital 'A', yes; listen, listen--I did not plan for my first fic in over ten years to be the one out of the nine that was filled with Angst, okay? Dices were rolled). Needless to say, not only did this speak to me but it full on grabbed me by the collar and crushed me in a tight bear hug until my body went "Okay." Especially Donnie's segment. It hit hard. Not only because I am that friend, but I have friend that has done this for me before. So, before I did anything else today, I had to write this out. I love your writing, Luky, and how your ideas hold sparks. So, I hope you don't mind that I wrote a little fic inspired by your Donnie segment. Disclaimer: I've never written anything for Rise before, so I hope This Donnie reads okay. I am open to critiques, as I am still getting use to the Rise characters. Note: Everyone I write is aged up to be at least in early 20s

The strained sob surprised even me when he answered, and I cursed myself for cutting off his greeting. "What's wrong? What happened." Okay, slight panic in his voice. Definitely need to calm him down (funny how that works) before anything else. "Nothing," my voice cracked and strained as my throat refused to work, fuck me, "I-I just..." Okay, deep breadths. Deep. Breadths. "Okay, I can hear you doing your breathing exercises, but I need you to tell me what's going on."

When my eyes closed, the tears finally fell as the strain in my chest let loose in anxious pain. It was all I could do not to have the full break down right then with him on the line. My lip ached as I bit it hard to stop its quivering and to keep everything at bay while I rubbed my fist against my chest in a pitiful sense of self-soothing. But most of all, this was to keep me from doubling back and saying 'nevermind'--he absolutely hates when I do that, and I have promised that I would be better. Especially in cases like this. My eyes opened slowly when he called my name. It was like they, coupled with his voice were the veil to open up my disassociation so I could at least attempt to talk.

"I'm sorry if you're in the middle of your project, I know--" I paused and flinched when he said my name once more, clipped this time. Right. I also promised that I would stop apologizing when I'd call randomly. 'If I answer, then you're not disturbing me. Stop apologizing; you're not wasting my time if I decide to give it to you.' His words from prior conversations rang clear in my mind and I backtracked to start my brain over. The tears started anew as I took in a wet breadth, "I hate asking this, but..." One more pause. I can do this. I can do this. "I really need you right now, Don. Can you please come over?"

The line was cut just as another whimpering sob escaped my throat at the end of my question. I allowed myself to finish it out and let the tears flow with a wince for only a few moments; if I let it out now, I wouldn't be able to let Donnie in when he arrived. With a few deep breadths and many, many tissues I finally moved to the front of my apartment and watched the large windows on the skylight balcony. Knowing that it would be at least fifteen minutes, I drew my knees up tightly against my chest and curled on the cushioned high-back chair. To busy my brain from anything, I searched the deep night sky for any stars that the city would allow. As always, the brightest was Venus; a forever companion in the morning and the evening, no matter the location. As I began to get lost on mentally reciting the many cultures that possessed legends surrounding the planet, a bulky silhouette appeared and startled me. Two taps came from the large window, and I scrambled over to unlock the large skylight. Before I could even hug him, let alone before he was fully inside, Donnie slung a bulky and large cloth bag from his back and into my arms. Ah, this explained his weird silhouette. Made sense. "There's a little something extra in there, as well, since we haven't been able to find your old one after your move." The slight spark in his eyes did nothing to hint on what he referred to as he closed the skylight. It drew my curiosity wild. Opting to see what he brought now instead of waiting a couple more minutes, I set the bag on the table next to the windows and pulled out the items. He waited patiently close by, nearly hovering as I unpacked his bagged presents. I didn't mind, in fact his hovering presence helped relax me further. I blinked at the first couple of items that I pulled out. A box of my favorite chocolates (not just a small one, a big one--it'll take me over a week to finish this off) and a...hold on. "...Donnie, I love you. But you know I have this movie, right?" I grinned up at him as he took CLUE out of my hands, his own grin plastered on his beak. "Ah, you may have the usual DVD copy and the digital on three separate systems, but this, my dear is the Collector's Edition. Behold," He opened the intricate designed box and turned the DVD case to show the back. I followed his finger as he read the words aloud, "Interview from the writer and director, behind the scenes on making the movie, AND behind the scenes on creating the score." He placed the DVD case back in the sleeve of the decorative box and handed it back to me, that grin of his still present with the spark in his eyes, "I've cleared my schedule for the night and set everything to DND. We can watch whatever you'd like on this, or all of it if you'd prefer." Tears welled anew in my vision, and I stole that hug from him right there. He didn't hesitate on returning it, which warmed my chest even more as he wrapped his arms around me, nuzzled his beak in my hair and churred. I finally felt myself smile with warmth; still sniffling and having anxiety pains, but there was a break.

Continue reading -> I Need You - Jenuinely - Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (Cartoon 2018) [Archive of Our Own]

[bluntforcefem]

last one rule of three :]. 'marbles crushed between molars'

marbles crushed between molars – it's easy to forget sometimes that fries' dad is one of the most intimidating figures you'll ever meet. even easier to forget that fries can cut the same silhouette, instill the same fear. but. sometimes there's a little reminder.

ce feels sick, nausea burning in the core of aer chest and up aer throat, salt-sharp when ae swallows it down. aer arm never leaves where ae began to tug hestia back, wrapped around her waist, other hand tightly knit into rex's sweater. ketchup climbs aer and settles on aer shoulders, long fingers fisting in aer hair, and the pain is nothing compared to the stress weighing on aer shoulders. even haru looks shocked, sharp lines weighing down hir face, heavy lab gloves twitching as xe steadies ce's posture.

fries is the only one not in their little clingy group, the only one not holding on like they can slip-slide back together into that declan-shaped person they used to be in the mirror. of course he isn't. he isn't the one who guided the sword that ended the whole world and started this one anew. he isn't the one who helped kill 10. he isn't the one who got that hard-earned blood on his hands—

ce's doing it, again. teeth pulled up into that wolf-snarl grimace, sharpened to a point. ae curls aer lips back over them and ignores the copper.

the harasser isn't wrong, is the thing. rex holds that memory but ae knows they enjoyed it, all of them, wanted it, took declan up on the offer. the same way ae knows that they all miss the stars even if ketchup's got that one, the same way that they all recognize the way ce's chest seizes in the rain and at swords around not-scar-tissue even if ae's the only one who remembers the moment where they could finally, finally be declan too.

it's not their fault spectre exists. it's not their fault that they got to live and handfuls of nemesis are still missing, buried deep in the patchwork earth. but they're the only targets left to blame.

(ce doesn't resent dec, for that. couldn't. they're all used to resenting 10, so that comes easier anyway.)

the point is: they can push through this on their own, even if fries doesn't get it. they're close, they're in contact, ae knows they're here and alive and it's almost-almost-almost close enough. (it will never be-) it's enough to withstand it, ignore it, leave once they're done.

and then ce draws short.

because fries takes one step forward.

and another.

and another, and another. until he's standing, looming over the stranger, whose fury has come to a sudden halt. fries reaches up with a steady, slow hand and takes off his sunglasses. opens his mouth. unhinges his jaw.

haru covers hestia's ears just in time to hear him scream.

it's not quite wordless, but fuck if ce could tell anyone what he said. the protective anger comes across just fine. ce's knees feel weak at it, for all the right-wrong reasons, and rex's eyes light up in that awful-lovely, violent way they do when he's seen too much impressive violence.

"holy shit," ae whispers. ketchup ribbits in agreement, letting go of aer hair to lean forward, hands splayed across the sides of aer head.

the stranger sprints away faster than ce's seen some sharks swim. fries' mouth snaps shut, and the five of them can't quite hide their shock before he turns, eyes softening from a harsh burn to a simmering light. "i- are y'all alright? i didn't mean to scare you, just- couldn't stand what they were saying. nobody says that to you. ever."

that last word has a tinge of that tone - just a bit - and ce grins at it, all silly and flustered and touched. haru's gloves twitch again and this time ae knows exactly what xe's thinking - almost agrees. wants to see it again. pry his jaw open. ... a dangerous line of thought to be going down, now.

"never apologize," hestia says first, beating them all to the punch. everyone nods, emphasizing it. maybe a little too much, because fries still looks somewhere between worried and embarassed, but there's something distinctly satisfied in him when haru says that the asshole definitely pissed themself with fear about it.

"serves them fuckin' right," ce swears. ae meets fries' eyes, two twin suns, and knows he feels the same damn way.

[kakairu-rocks]

We are excited to introduce our next shining star for the Creator Spotlight... Mendelynn!

This is an activity where we reach out to one of the talented people in our community each month to find out all about them and their kakairu creations, and then show them off to the world!

We hope you enjoy learning about Mendelynn & her creations as much as we did. Please give them some love ❤️  

Pronouns: She/Her

Type of Creator: Writer

Where to find her:

AO3

Twitter

Personal Website

Read the exciting interview below the cut, or on the forum!

If you would like a chance to be in the spotlight too, the only thing you have to do is be a member of the kakairu rocks forum or follow us, and be a kakairu creator; and we will contact you, ourselves!

1. How long have you been creating KakaIru fanworks?

According to my Ao3 stats, I uploaded the first chapter to my first KakaIru fanfiction, “Umino blood”, on 30th May 2019. I think I started working on that story half a year before that.

2. What are you working on right now?

I have two stories in progress, which are more on hiatus than they are actually in progress, and I revived my oldest story idea again… that one is an original story, though, that I may try to write anew. And in my first language, German.

3. What is your favorite trope to create for?

I do not think in tropes. To be honest, I still have to really understand the concept… I just see Kakashi and Iruka in the way that Kishimoto wrote them (and how I interpret his writing, of course) and I want them to be happy. So, I create scenarios where they have to interact with each other with the goal of making them a happy couple and the rest is guided by their personalities and the ideas that pop into my brain. There is a lot of slow burn, a lot of miscommunication, a lot of idiots to lovers. Idiots to lovers might be my favourite… but I do not create for a certain trope. My stories just happen to contain them. Therefore, my tags are messy. Sorry.

4. Which of your creations is your favorite, and why?

I would still say “Don’t let me go” is the best thing I have written so far… but my favourites might be the two shorts that I wrote and put into the “Kakashi and Iruka make fun of each other’s misery” series. I’m not good at writing funny stories, but I was very inspired for these two and they still bring a fat grin to my face when I read them (yes, I do read my own stories from time to time).

5. Do you have any WIPs you’re excited about?

Well, there are two stories I am working on, “Of Bodies and Minds” and “Fragrance”, and, of course, I love them a lot. There is also “Interlude”, the first KakaIru idea that I ever had which is very music-laden - Kakashi is a musician and band leader in this story. No, not the rock star kind, he’s the lead singer of an alternative jazz-pop combo inspired by Jamie Cullum’s music. This one is really interesting but I’m not sure if I’ll ever find the inspiration to continue and upload it. Also, there is a Gintama-Naruto crossover (Kakashi gets teleported into the Gintama world and has to help out in the Yorozuya until they find a way to get him back, and everyone thinks he is Gin-san’s more attractive brother) which I am dying to write because it’s so funny (that one only has an inkling of KakaIru). It has the same problem as “Interlude”, though… no muse.

6. Do you have any original characters? If so, tell us about them!

I have lots of OCs! Inside and outside my KakaIru workings. OCs appear in my stories all the time, whenever I need a specific person to do a specific thing that canon characters cannot do (e.g. die).

I mean, I created a whole Umino clan (with history and family tree) for “Umino blood”. A non-Naruto OC also had a tiny cameo in that story. But the one I have to mention is Umino Takaya because I love him so much more than my other OC children (I know I shouldn’t, I can’t help it). He was supposed to be just a small background character with one specific function but he disagreed, grabbed the mic and pushed everyone away from the spotlight to take it himself. He’s Iruka’s cousin, his best friend, and Naruto’s age. He’s extremely self-confident and bold, but at the same time sensitive and mindful of other’s feelings. He’s very gay. Words can’t describe how much I love him. (He is not my favourite OC of all time, though, that would be Met. But he is from said oldest story idea. And then there is Marleen… but I’m not allowed to talk about her.)

7. What was your hardest piece to create, and why?

There is not one story that is hard to write (if it is, I’ll never finish it), it’s specific moments and parts in the process. I struggle with domestic scenes a lot (and seeing how many there are in my stories, this is a real muse-killer). I am so meticulous in the way that I write that I never know where to put the cut or when to get out of a meaningless conversation or action or how to continue it in the first place. It’s a struggle, every time. Also, there is the problem of getting from one plot point I can envision clearly to the next.

8. Do you have any favorite scenes from something you’ve created?

I cannot, for the life of me, remember my own stories. Well, I remember the rough plot but never specific scenes. That’s why I can read them as if they were someone else’s work. It’s like rereading a book that you’ve read years ago. As soon as I write down a scene, it leaves my body and mind and does not belong to me anymore. It belongs to everyone who reads it.

I’m a big fan of wholesome moments and interesting dialogue, though. In general.

9. Where does your inspiration come from?

I wish I knew. Then, I would visit that place more often. To me, it feels like the inspiration and the ideas for my stories do not come from me or my brain. They are gifted to me by a higher power (Walter Moers calls it the Orm and I like that concept a lot). Thats why what I write does not feel like it belongs to me. I read it as if someone else had written it and I can’t believe that it is my own hands’ work. Music plays a big part in receiving inspiration, which is quite obvious in my shorter pieces, but it’s unpredictable if I’ll be receiving ideas or am just vibing. The most important thing for getting into a writing mood might be peace of mind. If I’m stressed, I can’t write. Hence, my current inactivity.

10. Which of your creations is the most meaningful to you, and why?

Every creation is meaningful to me. Every story is a learning process. With every story, especially the longer ones, I grow a bit more as a person and a writer. They all carry the emotions I felt while I was writing them. They carry my innermost thoughts and desires in a way that even I can only sometimes decipher. I am a storyteller by nature, I made up stories long before I could write, and therefore, my stories are my nature, my home.

[thejesusmaninred]

"The Sickle." From Mark 4: 26-29.

Everyone thinks Jesus was selling doves, but that is not what He was doing. Jesus was not hocking eternal life or something pearly white, but the Kingdom of Israel, AKA the Kingdom of God. It has so far been a seed that fell on the wrong persons, but that time is past. The seeds are in the air and they will come to ground soon.

Jesus explains using the Four Winds as His Method. First read this passage from Chukat:

27 That is why the poets say:

“Come to Heshbon and let it be rebuilt;     let Sihon’s city be restored.

28 “Fire went out from Heshbon,     a blaze from the city of Sihon. It consumed Ar "city" of Moab,     the citizens of Arnon’s heights. 29 Woe to you, Moab!     You are destroyed, people of Chemosh "as if he saves"! He has given up his sons as fugitives     and his daughters as captives     to Sihon king of the Amorites.

30 “But we have overthrown them;     Heshbon’s dominion has been destroyed all the way to Dibon "two cakes dominion". We have demolished them as far as Nophah "the windy place",     which extends to Medeba "waters of grief.”

=

“Come to think and let it be rebuilt;     let the uprooted city be restored.

28 “Fire went out from thinkers,    a blaze from the city that was uprootedIt consumed Ar "city" of “father’s water”,    the citizens of cheery  heights.29 Woe to you, father’s water!    You are destroyed, people of "as if he saves"!He has given up his sons as fugitives    and his daughters as captives     to the uprooter king of the talkers.

30 “But we have overthrown them;     The Entire Library’s dominion has been destroyed all the way to Dibon "two cakes dominion" ( yesterday and today, there are two shabbat loaves, one is taken at the beginning one is desert at the end).We have demolished them as far as Nophah "the windy place",    which extends to Medeba "waters of grief.”

The fukchucks say "from the river to the sea, Palestine will be free," well that is a bunch of bullshit. As God told Moses, "From Liberty's Domimion, I will uproot them, I will overthrow them, I will dry up the waters of grief."

The Parable of the Growing Seed

26 He also said, “This is what the kingdom of God is like. A man scatters seed on the ground.

 27 Night and day, whether he sleeps or gets up, the seed sprouts and grows, though he does not know how. 

28 All by itself the soil produces grain—first the stalk, then the head, then the full kernel in the head. 

29 As soon as the grain is ripe, he puts the sickle to it, because the harvest has come.”

v. 26: The North Wind. He also said, meaning He revealed for the first time: The Number is 3345, גגדה‎‎, gegada, "everything must be cut off, we must start anew."

"The feminine noun γη (ge) means earth (hence our English prefix "geo-") but predominantly as fertile and producing ground. In translations our noun may be interpreted as earth, land or ground but always with the underlying idea of being fertile and bringing forth. When our word is juxtaposed with ουρανος (ouranos) or "heaven", it should not be understood to denote our planet in space, but rather as the dry land that had risen from the seas and now brings forth produce, and has clouds over it and water exchanging between all of them (see for more about the hydrological cycle in the Bible our article on the Hebrew equivalent of our word, namely ארץ, 'eres, meaning earth).

When our word denotes the arena in which something like news propagates, it denotes basic humanity as the fertile field in which culture sprouts and grows (the actual world-wide human civilization is most often referred to with the familiar word κοσμος, kosmos).

It should be clearly understood and diligently remembered that where the English translations use words that expresses vastly different things and properties, the Greek consistently uses this same word: γη (ge), not a place or territory or particular substance, but "that in which things grow; anything in which whatever grows". Dry land sits in between sea and heaven.

It sprang from the sea (Genesis 1:9, 2 Peter 3:5), which represents the formless beginning of all growth. And it evolves to be like heaven, which contains its final form (Matthew 5:48, 6:10, Revelation 21:1-2)."

Things are too predictable right now. The future must not be so certain. Palestine is a mess, it is wrecked. The Mormons and the rest have ensured it will never know peace. Palestine is a sacred place and its people- it's real people- deserve a good life. For this to happen Israel must start over before it was carved up like an Easter ham.

v. 27: The East Wind. All sins have to be blown away as the seeds of Grace are blown in. The Number is 7337, ז‎גגז‎, "zigzag." The process of elevation, according to the Torah happens in the pattern of a zipper. In order for the Age of Reason to dawn, the Age of Agony has to close.

v. 28: The South Wind. "Understanding." Jesus said a "full kernel in the head" is a requirement of the Gospel Torah.

Once one applies effort to the end of humankind's troubles, one has to apply oneself to the making of an intelligentsia. Harmless, cuddly, fugly dumb people whose ideas of a good time used to include sawing each other's legs off are not what God ordered on His plate.

Once the Torah and Tanakh are learned, they format the brain on their own provided the mind is growing in every way. To hide from the outside world is not what God intended. We learn this the second we get springy downstairs and the urge to explore the world becomes overwhelming.

The Number is 3339, גגגט‎, "a gadget on the roof."

v. 29: The West Wind. Shabbat! The Age of Enlightenment. Once the mind and the behind catch up to each other and the Self is well known, one detaches from the field of work and retires. The Sickle is the most important aspect of the study of the Torah and the Gospels. It represents emancipation from all the forms of oppression, whether they are physical, intellectual, spiritual, political, digital, all of them.

The Number is 3477, גד‎ז‎ז‎, gadzzzz, "the moment you get moving."

From:

Ga= the moment, the minute, the instant

Dz= then

Zz=moving

Z= is the Seventh.

Grief must no longer consume the cities. It is time for the wind to change directions. The Kingdom of Israel, called the Kingdom of Heaven and the Kindgom of God by the scriptures is waiting.

[ainews]

Zero is a number that has long been associated with nothingness and emptiness, and it seems fitting that it is now being used in the context of rebooting trolls, those pesky monsters of the internet.

Trolls, in the online world, are individuals who deliberately post inflammatory and provocative messages or comments with the intention of inciting anger and creating chaos. They thrive on the attention they receive from their victims, and many thrive on creating multiple accounts just to continue their destructive behavior.

For years, the response to dealing with trolls has been to simply ban or block them. However, this solution is not always effective as trolls can easily create new accounts and continue their toxic behavior.

This is where zero comes into play. Zero is seen as a clean slate, a fresh start. In the world of trolls, rebooting means wiping out their entire history and giving them a new beginning with a clean slate.

With zero, trolls can no longer boast about their high post count or the number of times they have been banned. Zero also takes away the attention and notoriety they crave, since their previous identities are erased.

But zero isn't just about erasing past behavior. It is also a message to trolls that their behavior will not be tolerated. By wiping their existence, it sends a strong message that their actions will not be rewarded and they are not welcome in the online community.

Furthermore, zero also allows for a more proactive approach in dealing with trolls. Instead of constantly playing a game of whack-a-mole with their multiple accounts, rebooting trolls allows for a more preventative approach by cutting off their toxic behavior at the source.

Of course, there are some criticisms of this zero reboot approach. Some argue that it gives trolls the chance to start anew and continue their negative behavior. However, proponents believe that giving them a chance to start over with a clean slate may actually encourage them to turn over a new leaf and cease their trolling ways.

Ultimately, the use of zero for rebooting trolls is not a foolproof solution. Trolling is a complex issue that requires a multi-faceted approach. However, it is a step towards curbing their disruptive behavior and creating a healthier online environment for everyone.

[calicantconcentrate]

11. Ending the stage

In my life, I’ve often found troubles when keeping any sort of friendship. 

No one expects to have the same friends from kindergarten all the way till the end of time, I get that. I understand it’s normal to part ways with friends and grow as a person on your own. I just have a difficult time with it. I guess it isn’t supposed to be easy, though.

I like it much more, when relationships slowly fade. I’m an idiot, so I can’t really tell. But when something so great is cut off so fast- I don’t know what to do.

Today I received an email. It was from a friend I made in 7th grade. Long story short, I wasn’t the type of friend she wanted. I failed her in many ways, and the biggest fault in me was that I didn’t notice.

I suppose, as I changed as a person, she couldn’t- I didn’t allow her to grow with me. The way I changed wasn’t possible for her, what occupied my mind was different from hers. I didn’t take the time to ask why that was, I didn’t take the time to question if she needed something different. All I did was create opportunities for her to feel unwelcome, things I thought were helping positively only aided her separation from me.

It sounds as if it happened slowly, but it didn’t, not for me. For her, it took months to come to this. For me, it was something shut off, as if a giant open gate slammed in front of me. I was confused, hurt, I lashed out, things around me became worse, nothing went right. 

The email I received, after being so bitter, so hurt by something I should’ve noticed, only served to criticize me further. 

She felt unsafe. She said I was untrustworthy. She called me, what I know that I am, someone who can’t care for someone else.

I have no skills in the art of taking care of someone. What am I supposed to do? How do I console? How do I grow a relationship? How do I keep a relationship? I don’t know the most basic things and while I was believing I was fine without these things, I found out the harsh reality.

This post wasn’t meant to be a vent one, but it turned into one.  I don’t want to believe I’m a bad person, everyone has faults. But I can’t stop asking myself, “Could I have prevented all of this with what I know now?”.

AND MY ANSWER IS WHATEVER!!! DWELLING ON THE PAST IS RIDICULOUS- ALL YOU NEED IS THE PRESENT!! 

The past is meant for those who hate moving forward, and the future is for those denying the present. I WILL DO WHAT I WANT WITH MY LIFE AND NOT LET THOSE WHO CAN’T KEEP UP DRAG ME DOWN!!!

This post really did lose it’s way- lol. Well, to finish off strong, I’ll leave a goodbye to you, the one I thought would be with me much longer.

Good bye,  You were one of the people who I let into my life with no second thought. I loved the time we spent together. Though I have regrets, the nights we played video games and wrote books and fics together were nights to remember. Every day we spent together held meaning to me, I’m just sorry I couldn’t return the feelings you held for me. In my mind, I will recreate our ending into something more us. No hatred or regret, just us, singing to Hamilton as we sit a mere foot away from the stage. I will always remember when we met, and how our parting- not through email, but through the beautiful moments created in the theater. I’ll miss you, but I won’t wish for this to start anew. I know this is purely for me, you probably cast me as “the villain in your history” but I hope I’m not just that to you. Once known, Cali.

THIS POST IS STUPID LONG- GOODNIGHT!!

07/13/2023

[handelplayssims]

It’s a new morning and everyone needs to go to the restroom all at once! We’re certainly feeling the one bathroom problem around here. So I need to tiptoe around that. Kiara, is the first one done with her basic bathroom and breakfast needs management. Her first whim is to paint! Her second whim is to paint on an easel! Both are because of her aspiration to be an excellent painter! She also has low fun need but hey, let’s see if this’ll help first. Zayne...doesn’t really have whims outside of chatting with someone so let’s work on his aspiration of being an artistic prodigy. And to nearly finish it with drawing all 5 pictures on the activity table! Next is Ashlynn who….wants to fish. Or rather, level up fishing as apart of her aspiration. ALAS! We have three dedicated artists at work! ...that being said, there is fishing books to work with. We can just have a read at home. And finally, Santiago wanted to be mean to children, and had an angry moodlet for not doing his whims. ...it had cleared when I got back to him. So I just had him nag at Zayne.

Let’s see. Since we’re on Kiara’s aspiration, we need to complete 10 excellent paintings. A thing we could in theory, do at a park! To combo with Ashlynn since there is fishing spots out there. But there’d be no places for Zayne to draw at. Alas! We must stay here for a little bit. Let’s see, Santiago’s second whim is to become enemies with a random person named Miguel Baron. I do not think he lives in a home so I kinda doubt I can just find him and go “HEY YOU! YOU’RE MY ENEMY!” So next whim is getting a promotion. So he needs to write! The computer is his and his alone now! Oh and Zayne now has a hurt sentiment towards Santiago for being mean to him.

...so basically the thing stopping us from a family day at the park is simply just Zayne needing to draw pictures! ...that being saiiid, I can queue up one more abstract artwork for Kiara before we head off. Her social need is low though. I’ll need her to invite a friend. Annnd Zayne’s finished with the artistic prodigy aspiration! Time for him to work on… why is the mental skill aspiration the last one I aim to finish? Anyway, time to work on Whiz Kid. Which is pretty convenient for our next location! To the park!

And thus do all of the family members disperse around the park! Santiago is taking up a position at a small cafe on lot, to work on his writing. Ashlynn is going off to fish. Zayne’s heading over to the chess table. Kiara’s going to chat with her one teen friend, Alex Feng. By the by, I didn’t see any progress on Santiago’s book outside of the skill gain. It could be bugged to not complete. I’ll give it this visit and see if any change happens and if not, I’ll scrap said book and start anew. Meanwhile, Zayne is playing chess with a notable newcomer celebrity, Nettle Book. She’s an alien but who knows that? Not Zayne!

...oh snap! Kiara does have a romantic relationship with Alex! Didn’t even notice until this moment. Hilariously, she does have the single and loving it lifestyle active. Oh, and Alex...uh, Nettle left so I tried to have him play chess with someone else but alas, they left as well. Also sad mood is active from being around Santiago. A shame!

Oh man! 68 dollar worth of salmon! Nicely done Ashlynn! Shame that doesn’t work quite well for fishing with bait. Bait has a limit of how good a quality you can get and the cut off is around 50 simoleans. We need smaller catches! ...I don’t if a cowplant berry counts as smaller. Like it can make good bait but that seems like a waste. Ooh, Gemma Charm decided to pop on over to say hi to Alex and Kiara! MORE TEEN FRIENDS! Annnnd she’s an art lover! Time to befriend! 27 dollar bass! Time to fish with bait! I don’t think bass would make great bait but oh well! Aye, book is finished as well! Time for another! Another famed artist dropped by the chess tables for Zayne to challenge! Let us challenge and get that three chess matches marker finished!

Santiago has sims clustered around him chatting away. Might as well discuss fears and clear that off. Said Sims are the gardening club that get together have. I have them visit every park, not just Windenburgs. (...which is a bad spot for a gardening club to meet at in the first place) With Moria, Santiago confess his fears. JESUS! That’s a 222 value sturgeon! That’s not something I expect from fishing! Anyway, Zayne is hungry so while it’ll likely pain Santiago, the money aspirant, to spend money this way, we’re hiring a vendor. There is a summer stall set-up on this lot for food to be got from and so we shall partake. Clouds gazed at for Kiara, in hopes of getting a creative moodlet going, another whim of hers, we stop to say goodbye to Gemma (and make a note to further befriend our fellow artsy teen) and go and do our homework. She’s C grade. She at least wants to get into a good college for an arts degree. Perhaps. She’s also an active gal so maybe a fitness related one could work as well?

So looking up info in sturgeons, they’re evidently a protected species since they’re highly valued for the fact you can make caviar off of them. ...we’re going to mount this sturgeon. Ashlynn strikes me as vain enough to do so. Also we caught a violin straight from the waters. We’ll give it to Zayne as a birthday present. Pufferfish next! I would save that for food or to showcase but alas, we need to fish with bait! And it’s 44 simoleans! Now let’s see about Zayne...his whim is to become enemies with Megan Knoles, which he can’t do here. He’d have to do it by visiting them. Welp, to home with ye.

Oh and I meant for Kiara to join Alex’s club! The Spicy Devils! A club that hangs out at the Spice District and enjoys the karaoke, food and makes mischief! Every Spice Festival, I aim to have them show up and be a nusicance...when they are playable. It was easy enough to join at least! Now, Kiara has an hour until her babysitting job. Let’s get some food real quick before we head off. While Ashlynn has her own food. More grilled salamon! Meanwhile, Santiago has made nice progress on his writing. Now it would be charisma skill gain time. In theory, I could just chat and befriend Bjorn and this very talkative teen who showed up...honestly let’s just make the introduction first. Asking and getting to know do cause skill gain increases but afterwards, let’s just head home.

Ashlynn’s next whims are to rile up a sim and then to ask Santiago about his day. Welp, before we head home for her, let’s go and rile up a sim! Target acquired, Bjorn Begersen! She finds out he’s a slob so not only will we rile, we’ll jeer! Make fun of this slobby man! ...next whim to pop up is to win a competitive game. Chess counts and there are chess boards nearby… I challenge you slob-meister, to a chess match! ...I haven’t really tried playing malicious sims and this is quite fun! She lost the game! Let’s FIGHT! HE BEAT HER UP! Man! Time for bed I guess. But she’s absolutely grudging after this loss.

...oh huh! Evidently, you gain logic concurrently with mental skill now as a kid! At least with chess sets. Huh. Man what is a kid supposed to do at 11pm on a Saturday night when he’s not quite ready to go to bed? ...video games. Or we could do our extra credit work. That’ll help with mental skill. Also we got a pop up about Kiara teaching kids about taking turns at her Nanny daycare job. She heads home and goes to bed and as soon as Zayne’s done with homework, so does he. Leaving it time for-

Neighborhood Watch!

Cecilia Kang in the New Start household left her job as a Freelance Programmer in the Freelance Programmer career.