#even if only a fraction of that is 'unnecessary' if it is happening all the time to everyone that will add up over time

[messier51]

thinking again about digital pollution, information/expectation overwhelm, the right to privacy, bodily autonomy--but also mental autonomy, in a society that mythologized the "great man" individual that aims to devalue any individual effort at the skill and creativity level for the sake of....digital pollution (and money)

[yerion]

hit the line.

before the race, you encounter your rival—jeon jungkook. instead of seeing him on the tracks, jungkook invites you to his waiting room to ensure that no eyes are watching but his. pairing : racer!jungkook x racer!f-reader. genres : mild fluff, mainly suggestive themes. content : jungkook is slightly toxic because he’s obsessed with you and has a tendency to grab onto your neck a little too harshly. word count : 2,4k.

this lobby is a pigsty. just an abundance of egotistical racers, mostly made of men, chortling and snickering about the petty little numbers etched into their records.

nothing is ever different here, except the numbers beside your name.

it’s the only salvageable aspect in this industry, considering that’s the only statistic that matters here.

however, there happens to be a wild card in today’s race. all empty heads did turn at the news of him earlier, and of course, the room still remains heated. simply unnoticeable if a glance is all someone would offer. 

to be precise, it’s because of him—the variable.

when he walked in the room full of unbending tension, your façade inevitably dulled at the sight of jeon jungkook—your one and only rival on the tracks.

you’ve heard of him, but this is your first time seeing him up close.

inquisitive, you drastically swing your head to the side, hoping to catch a glimpse of his infamous side profile.

your eyes are half-shut in lack of interest as you scrutinise the average guy in his jet black race suit, sitting maybe ten metres ahead of you.

the only thing recognisable is that he looks as bored as you.

a solid 6/10.

as if he heard, jungkook lifts himself up from the couch he was sitting on; he didn’t seem comfortable because of how low the couch is for his height anyway.

besides, considering the bored guise he has displayed on his excessively praised features, his decision to leave the lobby isn’t so surprising.

you continue to stare at him when he walks past you, and at the last second, he returns a knowing gaze before ultimately exiting the room without causing much commotion like before.

whatever that meant.

staring up at the clock mounted on a wall ahead, you bat your eyes upon checking that there’s plenty of time before your race. consequently, in your place of being a veteran racer, you’re beyond capable of dedicating a fraction of your time to unnecessary things like tailing his steps. 

you’re just curious.

a decisive breath slipping past your lips, you stand, determined to go through the same door. you turn a slight corner, retreating from your chair to push through the exit, palms flat against the door.

“i must be bothering you a lot.” you suddenly hear as soon as you let go of the door to shut.

viciously snapping your head towards the unfamiliar voice, you don’t even try to hide the obvious shock written all over your face when you catch jungkook smirking at your entrance. “say that again?” you raise a brow at his absurd assumption.

he’s not entirely wrong.

“i don’t see you denying.” his smirk still intact, he crosses his arms to test your temperament.

“you’re full of yourself.” you snarl as you lean forward to his face in hopes of erasing the triumphant smirk off of his face. to think the jeon jungkook is a conceited bastard outside of his car is an ego boost you didn’t think you’d need.

jungkook inches further, stopping when his forehead meets yours. “such a hypocrite you are.” he peers down at your shorter height before whispering, “i know you.”

“who doesn’t?” you bark out a scoff before trying to shove him away with both hands. jungkook doesn’t budge at that, so all you do is grit your teeth behind your own scowl.

“you’re right,” jungkook mutters under his breath. “after all, we’re surrounded by all these racers who think they have a chance against you.” grinning lopsidedly, he reaches out to play with a strand of your hair, twirling a lock on his index finger until your hair tightens around his digit.

you wince inwardly at the sudden tug of your hair. “isn’t it too late for flattery?” 

by slightly angling his head to the side, jungkook eyes the empty yet vast corridor. on each side of you, there’s two routes—to the left is the exit, and to the right are the waiting rooms. “if we stay here, someone will see us.”

“so?”

“you know, we look extremely suspicious right now.”

you watch your hair smoothly slide out of jungkook’s fingers. “two people can’t talk to each other?” 

“who says i’m talking?”

footsteps—you can undoubtedly hear someone—perhaps two, walking towards the door behind your shoulder. the weight of each step becomes heavier and louder with every second passing.

you didn’t want the world to fall into jungkook’s hands, but once again, today is another day that orbits around his control.

“just come to my room.” jungkook coaxes in a sweet whisper. “i’ll tell you what i think about right before pressing down on the accelerator.” he chuckles mockingly, “come on, it’ll lessen the thought of me in your head.”

“me?” you almost choke on air. “thinking about you?”

“you give yourself away too easily.” jungkook backs away with the truth in his mouth. “i saw you staring and now you’ve been caught following.”

“shut up.” you retort in embarrassment. “save the words and lead the way.” you roll your eyes, casually smacking his shoulder as you trudge past him—an insufficient blow for his arrogance, but it’ll have to do for now.

because you won’t lie, you’d like to figure out what lives in his head.

the journey to his room isn’t far. is it a coincidence that his room happened to be the first one down in the line? when jungkook stops at a door, you hover behind him, hoping to maintain a reasonable distance between the two of you. 

“so what is it that you want to know?” jungkook asks without giving you a minute to adjust in his territory. 

you scour his room absentmindedly whilst approaching jungkook who’s resting against the table supporting all of his equipment—an extra helmet, gloves and some clothes to change into afterward; all made by calvin klein. “weren’t you the one who offered a conversation about your mindset before a race?” you huff in annoyance, “unless you were joking like a piece of shit.”

“no way.” jungkook cracks a grin at your audacious demeanour.

“then?”

jungkook gestures to you to come closer, and at first, you’re adamant. you dislike how you’re agreeing with all his suggestions so far, but you choose to forfeit when you realise that jungkook has no intention to move and do anything for himself.

“what?” you observe jungkook’s maximised mien now that you’re helplessly close. there’s a tenuous freckle under his lower lip, and on top of a vein, an even darker freckle on the side of his neck has taken its place on his tanned complexion. there’s also a scar on his cheek—so fine and delicate; luckily the scar doesn’t seem like it carries trauma.

with all those considered, a 7/10.

“this is exactly what i’m talking about.” jungkook catches you red-handed again. it’s no secret you were scanning him directly in front of his face anyway.

“shut up.” 

“will you?”

“you’re telling me to shut—” the strength in your voice vanishes completely at the sensation of an arm suddenly snaking around your waist. 

privacy is what he was after.

once an arm of jungkook’s has clinged onto your paralysed body drenched in utmost surprise, he deliberately tightens his grip around one side of your torso to keep you alert. “if you want me to stop talking, do it yourself.” he implies suggestively. 

“just because you know me, that doesn’t give you the right to randomly touch me like this—” you cut yourself off, knowing your words mean nothing but pure entertainment to him. his unserious smile alone says a million words. “are you even listening?”

“it’s you i think about.” jungkook abruptly confesses as a means of dismissing your complaints.

baffled, you blink profusely at his insane answer. “are you joking?” you spit out, flustered by the amount of confusion and irritation jungkook gave like nothing.

“do i look like i’m joking?” he interjects as if offended. 

“how is it not?” you aggressively interrogate the meaning behind his words. “unless you happen to be a fan of mine.”

wordlessly, he circles both his arms around your waist to trap you in between his thighs. “what’s your thought on dating fans?” he tilts his head and grins cryptically with you in his proximity. “or how about someone who drives better than you?”

“choosing winners already?” you hiss at his stretched confidence before planting your palms against his shoulders to fend him from sticking to you further. “get off of me.” hands now grasping jungkook’s zipper above his adam’s apple, your eyebrows collapse into an intense furrow.

jungkook rocks his head back, chuckling breathily at your rough initiation before returning the undivided attention back to your weary eyes. “how about a bet?” unbothered by your grapple, he lightly taps his finger against your back a few times, knowing what kind of effect it has on you.

jungkook’s fingertips are like electricity; a part of you jolts as a shiver runs through your back, all the way to your nape. however, your ears perk up at the inception of a gamble. “what now?” a frown persists to mask your intrigue against him. “i swear, if it’s something stupid—”

a shallow laughter releases from his own depths. “now i have your attention?”

eventually, your grip loosens, and before you know it, your arms are back to your sides. “you surely do talk a lot.”

“that can be helped.” like someone who knows exactly what the next card is in the deck, jungkook is quick to yank your entire body towards a certain direction with the help of his arms; not even is there time for a breath to pass your oesophagus. he almost trips you over onto his thigh with the fuel of force, clearly unconcerned of your landing. you’re triggered to instinctively grasp onto his shoulders, desperate to avert any sort of injury prior to your race. “should i demonstrate how?” he asks once his eyes are locked with yours, catching the remaining panic in your orbs before they can diminish.

shit.

your whole body burns—from the centre and outward, the wildfire spreads at a speed different from a blooming flower. not only are you compelling every ounce of anxiety to subside, but you’re overwhelmed by embarrassment too—you’re helplessly tangled under one guy’s touch; a guy whomst you’ve never met before. any knowledge you have of him is what everyone knows too.

yet here you are, slowly enjoying every bit of temptation he’s feeding you.

screw it.

“go on,” is all you say.

that puts jungkook at a pause: his eyes widen in a way that appears unbelievably innocent—at least in this strange second, he’s not as arrogant and egocentric. instead he just looks like a lost kid who got permission to kiss a girl for the first time.

8/10.

containing your chuckle, you proceed to sling your arm around his neck in ease. “not so confident now—” you tease, “—huh, jungkook?”

“well,” jungkook smirks knowingly. “no need for confidence if you’re going to make things easier.” one arm latched around your waist, jungkook lets his other hand creep up towards your nape—and again, you feel it—your body tensing and squirming internally in resistance as if you’re being electrified. 

sucking in a breath at the feeling of each of jungkook’s fingers wrapping around your neck, you purse your lips to exaggerate a frown purely made of frustration. “just kiss me already.” you suggest boldly. “we can’t be doing this at the start line, can we?”

“i would.”

“what the—”

“go on a date with me after this.” 

before you can utter a single word, the tightness surrounding your neck intensifies, restricting you momentarily from any movement. all the oxygen in the air melts away, and silence jails the two of you—every second starts playing in slow motion, and you feel as though you can dissect each second if you were given the job to do so. 

“how should you respond?”

all you do is nod, and immediately, the concept of distance detonates. jungkook pushes down on your neck, letting your head dip further towards him. you don’t dare to breathe or make yourself known to him right now, instead you take him into your heated embrace, feeling as if that’s the only thing you’re authorised to do—or are you?

just like that, jungkook’s gaze sinks, focusing on your lips for seconds before inching forward to press his lips against yours. unlike the rest of his body, his lips are gentle. it resembles a fragment of the past; you envision the jungkook who froze at your reciprocation. at that, you begin to notice the fuzziness taking place in your chest as you familiarise yourself with him and his antics.

however your thoughts are cut short when jungkook tilts his head to deepen the kiss. as his lips part, yours does too. his hand still remains secured around the base of your neck, left with no necessity to escalate. his weakened grip grants you a single opportunity to break away from his lips, but your arms stay, eager to contain all of his heat for yourself.

“do you do that often?” you murmur, side-eyeing the hand holding you captive.

“thanks to you.” jungkook replies, his voice now profoundly tender.

“can i get a different answer for once?”

“i mean it.” this time, jungkook cups your cheek with the hand that kept you down. “i race because i wanted to meet you.”

race.

shit.

your race.

his race.

the race.

“jungkook?” you call out his name for the first time. “our race?” upon glancing at the clock behind him, you try to rock jungkook’s shoulders by flailing your arms. “hello? i need to make a living?”

“if that’s your only concern, i can manage.”

you dart your eyes back to jungkook. “i get that you’re obsessed with me, but can you let me win the race first?” you sigh dramatically, “you didn’t even tell me about the bet.”

“i didn’t expect you to—” 

“shut up.”

“how about your questionable habit while kissing?”

“if it wasn’t for you, i wouldn’t be gripping onto the steering wheel that fucking hard.”

[ultraflavour]

Tackling the Toxic Culture of Play around "Epic" length campaigns in Fantasy TTRPGs

Definitely watch this video, but I'm also going to be touching on 4 major topics:

How I fucked myself big-time by over-committing to running a long-term game of Fabula Ultima;

Why the expectation of "Epic" length campaigns causes unnecessary stress on GMs;

How Lancer solves this problem by imposing structure and enforcing strict end-points;

How classic D&D and the "West Marches" concept applies these principles through a shared set of assumptions, and how we could apply those same assumptions to our own games.

Fabula Ultim-Oh No

A little while ago, I shared my experience running Fabula Ultima, specifically the Shared World-building portion of the game.

At the end of the article, I listed one of my 4 mistakes as being "Over-committing." That part was only tangentially related to the problem of Shared World-building, but it was related.

The group I was running for wanted to create a massive world. I gave them 3 maps to choose one of that's we'd fill out. They chose two, each representing a separate hemisphere.

I didn't know enough to say no, so I agreed. What was the worst thing that could happen? Our shared world would be too awesome?? Well.

What ended up happening was that all of the elements that the players had created during the world-building session were so far spread apart that in order to incorporate even a fraction of what we had created, this game had to be long.

So in order to live up to the expectation that I had believed to be there, I made an insane commitment that I should never have done: I promised the group that the game would go for at least 4 months, then I'd try to wrap things up in another two months, for a total of 6 months. Then, I'd leave the decision about whether to keep playing to the group: If they wanted to continue their adventures in our shared Fabula Ultima universe, we could do that.

Fast Forward Two Months

Two months into the game, and I am not vibing with the game. At all.

Fabula Ultima is a game that requires a lot more input from the players than other games do. Because at any time, a player can introduce a story element, that basically means that the GM can't really prep much of anything. The game expects the game to emerge as a constant conversation between the players and the GM.

But for whatever reason, the conversation just isn't really happening. I'm constantly feeling the pressure to provide the story to the players. And when they try to introduce story elements, I inadvertently have to shut them down because they interfere with something that I've prepped.

Suffice to say, I'm not having a good time. And because I'm not having a good time, I think my players are also not having a good time. It becomes a spiral. I start calling sessions earlier than I need to. I cancel. I don't do any extra prep, because I'm wrapped up in knots before the session.

Flame-Out Ultima

It's now the 3 month mark and I know I'm not going to make it. I'm throwing a lot of energy into my job, for reasons I won't go into here, and I don't have the energy leftover to commit to the game in the evenings. It's a Thursday evening game, and Thursdays are one of my mandatory in-office days at work, so I've fucked myself harder than I possibly could have.

So I inform the group that it's time to wrap up the game. I feel terrible. I promised them that I'd try to run the game longer, and now I'm a liar.

This guilt turns to anxiety. It begins to interfere with my work and my sleep. I'm now frustrated with myself even more, because I'm allowing this stupid tabletop game, which was just supposed to be a silly fun time (I literally nicknamed the campaign "Vibes Ultima") has gone wrong in possibly the worst way it could have.

I know that the reality is that I truly have nothing to feel guilty about. I put more effort into making that game work than anyone had any right to expect of me, and part of the reason why it failed was that the energy just wasn't there. But I'll let Rona tell you what reality means to people with social anxiety:

WHY, THOUGH?

I began to wrestle with the question of why: Why did I feel so compelled to make that stupid promise of running the game for 4 months to half a year? What was the reason for that arbitrary length of time?

I narrowed it down to three reasons:

The group had just come off of a very long-term 5E campaign, all set in a homebrew setting. The GM of that game was a player in my game, so I wanted to reciprocate the gesture of the long campaign by at least attempting something long-term.

My previous attempt at running a TTRPG campaign was Lancer, and I had made it about 6 months in that game, so I figured that was my time limit. This will be important later.

The group was excited about Fabula Ultima, but our previous attempt at running it flamed out early as the GM was unable to commit to the game due to their parenting duties. This GM had previously run epic-length campaigns for our group in the past, so I feel a sense of obligation to this player as well to try to give them a nice long character arc.

All of these factors led to the decision to set the minimum length of the campaign to 4 months, as if that arbitrary length of time was some magic number that meant literally anything.

And truly, what was the downside of only promising a short-term game? One of the players remarked during the character building session that they "weren't interested in going to the trouble of creating a character just for a short-term game." This... frustrated me deeply, but I didn't say anything at the time.

This decision ended up being not good for anyone. I had set the parameters of the adventure at the start of the game as the party needing to retrieve an object from a thief. It was a flimsy premise that should have only taken 4-6 weeks, not months, to complete. But I wasn't sure what to do after that initial adventure, so I stretched the game out over a long segment of travel (which I also felt compelled to do so that the players could experience the world they had had a hand in creating).

Truthfully, what would have been the downside of running an introductory adventure, completing something, and then calling it quits? Well, Fabula Ultima is a little bit of the problem here. Fabula doesn't really have the concept of an adventure, it's very much a "just show up, have some laughs, and get some XP at the end of the session" kind of game. You're supposed to get the feeling of having accomplished something every session, because the players are always able to stimulate the story with Fabula Points.

And I was even in the perfect situation to hand off the game to someone else, because the world was 100% shared. Everyone in the game had an equal stake in creating the game world, so any one of them could have picked up my slack. And if nobody wanted to? Then I was right to think that the group was not engaged at the same level as I was, and I was totally justified to cut things off early.

So what was the way that I should have gone about things? Well, as with many things, the answer lies with Lancer.

Lancer Loves You and Wants You to be Happy

You bet your ass I'm gonna find an excuse to talk about Lancer in every article I write.

I had previously had the most success of my entire TTRPG career running Lancer. I managed to make it to the 6 month mark, running a totally homebrew setting, and I was able to cap it off in a satisfying way that tied together all of the setting elements I'd established prior to the final mission. I set up a big bad, and the campaign ended with the players sending it straight to hell.

It's to date the only TTRPG campaign I've ever run that I've felt proud of. I didn't really know what it was about Lancer that made it actually work as well as it did for me. It wasn't a perfect game by any stretch, but I actually felt good enough about it that I felt like I could run another game of it later on down the road, and it would be even better.

In retrospect, I now understand a big part of why I was able to make it work, and that was the Mission Structure. It goes a little something like this:

Planning: The players and the GM collaborate to choose a mission to undertake, either in or out of character.

Preparation: The group collects information from the base, or puts boots on the ground in the mission area, to increase their odds in the coming mission.

The Mission: Play proceeds as the players and their Mechs enter the combat area. Importantly, the mission assumes that there will be 3-4 fights before requiring the players to take a Full Repair (Lancer's equivalent of a "Long Rest"). Also importantly, the mission ends prematurely if the players take a Full Repair.

Downtime: After the mission parameters have been achieved, or the party can no longer continue in their mechs, the team returns to their base, gains a level, and engages in downtime activities (Get a drink, gather information, etc.)

That's basically it. The loop repeats 12 times, and that's a campaign. Though it might seem needlessly restrictive, this imposition of structure prevents a lot of problem behaviours from both players and GM alike.

For the GM:

By forcing collaboration with the players during the Planning step, the GM can never plot too far ahead, because they can't make any assumptions about which direction the players are going to choose to go;

The 3-4 fight guideline prevents the mission from stretching out overly long. The mechs are usually falling apart after 3 fights, and the party can't artificially prolong the mission by taking a premature Full Repair (ie. they can't "take a Long Rest in the dungeon");

The mandated Downtime means that the GM can't put a ticking clock over the party's heads, preventing maladaptive signposting behaviours.

For the Players:

The planning phase allows players a chance to impact the narrative by providing guidance to the GM about what they want to do and where they want to go;

Being able to predict how many fights there are in the mission means the players can plan how aggressively they are able to play, as well as how many resources they can spend per fight;

Downtime gives the players time to roleplay and further their personal agendas without being under the gun of a ticking mission timer.

All of these bullet points were problems that I'd encountered in other games. Most recently in a game of 5E, I tried to suggest that the group adopt the "No Long Rests in the Dungeon" policy, or at least try to do the "Adventuring Day" thing of getting 4-6 combats under our belt before resting. My character was a martial character who was increasingly irrelevant to the game as the spellcasters in the party were always easily able to recharge their spell slots through long rests.

If, by contrast, we were operating under the assumption that we would not be able to take a long rest mid-adventure, we would have had to be much more judicious about our spell slots. But because we never really felt that pressure on our resources (because the GM was too unwilling to say no to us), the spellcasters were basically always topped up, so there was no real need for a martial who wasn't as affected by attrition.

GM Fanfic Syndrome: It Could Happen to You

But much more importantly, forcing those "end points" every 4 fights and requiring player collaboration meant that I couldn't engage in the extremely destructive behaviour of over-planning a plot. Once the adventure was set, then I could prep to my heart's content. I could even create adventure sites beforehand, but as long as I didn't attach any time-sensitive story beats to them, the players could tackle them in any order they pleased.

I can't stress enough just how much trouble is caused when the GM feels like they have to make all of the important decisions about the plot. It leads to what I have taken to calling GM Fanfic Syndrome (I got this name from someone else on Tumblr but I can't find the post any more). You write a long, epic story, but never ever finish it because the conclusion of the story is always too far out for the players to directly tackle.

The symptoms are caused when the GM thinks way too far ahead about how their game is going to play out, but fails to think about all of the steps required to get there, and how many ways that those steps might fail to come to fruition.

People who spend a lot of time in their own heads tend to play out these scenarios like little movies in their head. By the time they get to the table, they've thought it out a hundred different ways in every direction, and yet somehow it still doesn't end up playing out how it did in their heads.

So by creating these little inflection points where the players get to choose which missions they want to undertake, the GM never gets the chance to write too far ahead. For GMs with ADHD, depression, or anxiety, this can actually be somewhat helpful. The rules act as guardrails, to prevent you from over-preparing on things that don't actually help you run the game better. And it forces the game to be run in units of time that never exceed a few sessions, so there is always a hard limit on how long the campaign can go for.

Marching to the West

The assumption that there should be a hard limit on adventure length, and that players should take part in the process of adventure planning, is not new. Lancer did not invent these ideas, it merely codified them in its own rules.

You can trace these ideas back a long ways, all the way back to the beginning of the hobby. The original game of D&D was billed as being "for 4-50 players." Obviously that sounds crazy on the face of it, but when you realize why, it starts to make sense.

Early games of D&D were designed to be run as part of a "Gaming Club" of up to 50 people. The idea was that the GM would run games for different groups of people at different times. Those players would schedule a time to attack a dungeon, so the GM would know what they needed to prep and when it needed to be done by.

There are two more really interesting mechanics buried in those old rules:

Adventures needed to be completed in a single session. Regardless of whether or not the dungeon was complete, the player is sent back to town at the end of the 3-6 hours allotted to play, possibly with a negative consequence applied to them;

Time moves forward in real time in the game world between sessions. If it's been 6 days since the player last played, it's also been 6 days since their character has done anything as well.

The reason for these rules is that other groups are also undertaking adventures elsewhere in the game world, and those adventures might even interfere with the adventures of other players. For example, some other players might schedule an attempt to complete a particularly juicy dungeon before another group, so the second group arrives to the dungeon to find it's already been looted.

While some of this might not sound overly fun, there are a couple of other assumptions that this style of game makes that I think are really helpful:

The game world is a small portion of the total world with a town at the center of it.

The town is never used as an adventure site. It's always assumed that if the players can undertake adventures in the town, they will choose to, because the town is a place of safety.

The adventure is always close enough to the town that the players can get there in a day.

The player is never assumed to have only one character, rather they have an entire stable of characters so that they aren't playing the same class over and over again every adventure.

These assumptions rhyme closely with another very influential culture of play called a "West Marches" campaign.

The basic idea of a West Marches campaign is thus: A DM assembles a group of players, up to 50, and perhaps nominates some co-DMs as well. The players are responsible for scheduling and deciding on an adventure to tackle. They come to the DM and say "We would like to go here and do this on this date" and the DM says "You got it."

This still has the "Everything has to be done in one session" requirement, because you can't guarantee that this exact group of people is going to have the same availability at any time after this. So it's not necessarily the best idea for a smaller group, which doesn't have the same problem of scheduling.

Solving the "4 Month" problem with a new Play Culture

But what you can see here is that there are ideas here that actually help us in the scenario I laid out above. Remember, here are my problems:

I'm not getting the input from the players that I need, so instead of finishing the adventure and starting a new one, I stretch the current one out;

Because I don't have a finish for the adventure planned until weeks out, I can't give up the GM chair until the adventure is through;

I've set too long of an arbitrary time limit compared to the amount I was able to commit to.

So how would I solve these problems, knowing what I know now?

Well, I would implement a set of rules, directly inspired by that classic culture of play that didn't even assume that a GM would be running the same adventure for longer than one session. Let alone 4-6 months! So what do we do to make the game more sustainable?

Keep the action of the campaign centralized to one area. The party should always have the opportunity to take downtime, pursue projects, etc. and it's much harder to do that when they're on some long journey to the other side of the world.

Keep every adventure to about 4-6 sessions total. Don't let the players take long rests mid-session. If they can't complete the adventure without taking a long rest, then they can't complete the adventure at all. Letting players take a long rest resets their attrition and allows them to unnecessarily prolong an adventure.

Don't place the adventure sites too far away that the party might take more than a session to get there. The party should not be able to take a long rest in the wild, so don't bog them down with pointless random encounters before they arrive at the adventure site.

After the adventure, work with the players to set clear goals for them to pursue over the course of the next adventure. You can come up with a consequence for failure if it happens, but at the very least, the players should have an unambiguous goal to tackle. Or, allow another player to jump into the GM chair, so I can play.

This set of assumptions accomplishes two really important things:

It alleviates the requirement on the GM to plot out a long campaign with narrative arcs that require the players to essentially follow a script;

It creates inflection points in the narrative where anyone could swap out, including you, the GM. Because nothing is planned out too far in advance, anyone can swap out between adventures, no problem. The continuity of the world is retained in the town and the players' characters.

That last part is really important because it directly alleviates a major source of GM burnout, which is that sense of obligation to keep the game running. The task of keeping the game alive now falls on the entire group, so the players have an equal stake in the game. If they don't want the game to flame out, they always have an opportunity to pick up the slack.

In a long-term game with an intricate plot line, it's incumbent on the GM to see things through to the end. If they set up a plot line, they now have a responsibility to execute on it. They can't hand a game off to another GM mid-adventure, and they can't expect another GM to execute on a plot that they introduced.

So a better way of doing things would be to simply not make up a long overarching plot at all. Keep things simple so that you could theoretically hand off to someone else if you had to. Or you could even switch systems! Let the smaller adventures and the downtime sessions in town handle the heavy lifting of the storytelling. Allow a story to emerge naturally from the players' behaviour, rather than imposing it through a rigidly defined plot.

These are rules that I'm likely going to be implementing going forward for the sake of my own sanity. If you ever find yourself feeling over-committed to the role of GMing, and it's causing burnout, then maybe these ideas that I've linked to might help you alleviate some of that pain.

In Summary

I caused myself to burn out by over-committing to a game because I let my anxiety about letting down my group override my better judgment;

I examined the reasons why I felt pressured to run "Epic-length" campaigns, and how it negatively affected my ability to run games;

I remembered a time when I ran Lancer and it actually worked because of the imposition of structure that prevented me from over-preparing;

I adopted a new set of rules for my future campaigns that allows more flexibility and less stress about having committed to a long "Epic" campaign.

[dasher85]

Rain

He theoretically understand the concept of love

Neuvillette x Reader | y/n | you

short story

Part 1 | Part 2

sad theme (supposedly)

[ and all that I want is to finally be honest ]

-----------------

"Have you ever thought about how the world perceived itself?"

That same question has been haunting Neuvilette's mind for a while now. He couldn't find the answer to it. At least a perfect response to the person who has spoken of such a question. 

The truth is, the question itself wasn't the only thing that lingers in his mind. If it was just a question he would've already thought of an answer within at least a few days and yet that wasn't the case for his heart was devastatingly shattered by the next thing that came after.

"...or how did I perceive you?" 

Words you've said. What was so meaningful about it? He has heard a billion excuses and pleas in the high court and yet he couldn't easily let go of this. He was hurt but he didn't know how to admit it. You didn't give him a chance to realise anything or at least let him think of an answer. 

'What was it again? The cause of it all?'. He questions himself as he recalled that day when he was left alone and his cheeks were damp not even because of the rain. 

He stood up and picked up the stack of files on his desk. Important cases, criminal's identity and the jurisdiction records. Time does seem to fly in his office space but even after all this time his soul has been stuck in that same place.

'What could've happened if I had the correct answer right then and there?'. His mind has been occupied despite being monotonously unexpressive. He sighed as he arranged all the files accordingly based on alphabetical order into the shelves.

He doesn't know it either. He wasn't human to begin with so it's understandable if he lacks in these situations and yet he blamed himself for it.

Neuvilette returns to his seat and for a brief moment he stares back towards the front door. As if expecting someone to enter the door but of course no one did.

The weather outside hasn't stopped raining for a while now. The gloominess inside his office and the grey sky outside reflects his beating heart.

He then resumes to write down a record for today's court report. Just like any other day, he was busy. He used to feel obligated to do all these things because it was only natural for someone who holds the position as the Chief Justice.

"Neuvilette, how about a cup of coffee…". He snaps his head up and unexpectedly it was just his imagination. A soft melodic voice that has been ingrained in his mind. His expression unchanged but he felt disappointed because it was all a mere fraction of his memory.

'Why did I even say that?'. Neuvilette finally remembered or actually he finally realised his actions. It was all because of him. It wasn't anything harsh but he was just trying to be considerate. He didn't want to trouble anyone, especially you but why did things turn out this way? 

It's true that he can focus with work and that things are a lot more progressive without distraction but why does he feel uncharacteristically empty? He didn't understand it either but somehow this feeling was more overwhelming than the times when a trial was over.

'What was it that I really wanted?'. He thought while exhaling heavily. His mind and his actions are purely contradictory with each other. He needs an answer, he needs a break and he needs to collect his thoughts but his work is important too. 

"Where have you been?"

--------------------

You smiled softly at the nice smell of sweetness coming from the warm hot chocolate drink. The ceramic mug held in between your hands.

It's been raining outside ever since you stopped working for the court. So, the temperature is a little cold and having something warm was a really good decision.

Life has been quite peaceful without headaches or unnecessary expectations. At least that's what you thought about your previous ordeal.

You shook your head sideways profusely to remove the thoughts about those days. It was so childish and immature to expect anything more than working your job diligently. You should've stayed professional and not get caught into a one sided love. It was all too embarrassing when you think about it now.

'It's alright… My feelings won't harm anyone and I know there's always someone who'll be better for me'. 

You nodded reassuringly to yourself as you slowly drank the sweet hot chocolate. Just the right amount to dissipate your lingering feelings. If time is forgiving, in just a few months you'll eventually learn to accept things as they are. As long as you keep yourself away from the court or that specific individual, your heart would surely mend itself.

The slight ambience from the coffee shop was quite calming as you calmly gazed through the clear glass window outside.

"Y/n… you're here". His deep voice was calm and yet a hint of excitement was evident as he spoke over your head.

You snapped your head towards the source who has called your name without notice. In that instant, you felt like your stomach dropped into a bottomless pit and a mix of overwhelming feelings returned into your heart.

Your once calm expression twisted into one that of pain and sadness. Out of all people, your heart is unprepared to meet him again. Not yet. Not when you're trying to forget about him. Not when you're trying to move on. Why did it have to be him?

He stood there with a small smile appearing on his lips but upon meeting your gaze, his smile slowly disappeared. 

Neuvilette knew his presence wasn't how it used to be. It's true that he didn't know human emotions any better but he has seen human's facial expressions numerous times to the point where he can differentiate between happiness and sorrow.

He wanted to go and listened to your pleading stare, listened to your wistful unspoken wishes… He knew you didn't want him there and that his mere presence was hurting you.

Neuvilette knew that much… you didn't need to tell him. Even for someone like him, he would still understand that look on your face. 

However, just like how he wished all the villains should serve justice, he still stubbornly stood there. Staying on his ground like a shattered fragment of glass in between a bleeding wound.

He opened his mouth to say something but no words came out. He didn't know what to say to you. Should he apologise? Should he tell his feelings? Should he act oblivious?

"Y/n, I…"

You quickly stood up and walked away from there, leaving your warm cup of chocolate drink unfinished. You didn't want to get involved with him anymore for you only want what's best for your already crumbling heart.

If you stayed any longer, you would've broken into a crying mess. It's embarrassing and you've cried enough for your damn unrequited love. It was time to move on now. Your heart has suffered enough and it's your own responsibility to protect it from harm.

Unhesitatingly, you run to your heart's content without looking back. You didn't care if people would question your actions but you knew that'll keep you away from him.

Eventually you reached somewhere far, somewhere you thought he couldn't reach or find you. You just need time for yourself and anywhere is fine so long as you're away from him. You started to walk aimlessly as you caught your breath from your unplanned escape.

'I'll be alright'. You thought. 

Suddenly, your wrist was grabbed as the person spun you around in an instant. You didn't have time to react as you met with his unwavering gaze once more. 

You didn't say a word as realisation struck into your mind but you were quick to struggle away from his hold in an attempt to free yourself.

"Please… Y/n, let me just-"

He didn't let go. His grip wasn't hurting you but it was impossible to break free from the mere fingers that were encircling around your thin wrist. 

"I don't want to!". You started to feel agitated by the situation.

He sighed, he didn't want to make things worse as it already was but a side of him was reluctant to let you go. If he did, he knew you'd walk away without hesitation and his effort would be in vain.

"Y/n!". He raised his voice just enough to make you stop from struggling.

Neuvilette was nervous. He was so scared that he'll fail to receive enlightenment for his own feelings. If he couldn't give a good answer, he should at least get an appropriate explanation from you. 

"Listen…". His usual calm voice returns once he knew your attention was on him. Even if it was for a brief moment he needs you to listen.

"You asked me about how someone perceives things, about the world… about you". He reminds you of those questions you've asked him before you quit working at the court. 

You quietly listened but you've averted your gaze away from him. Those questions were all just a useless bitter taste in your heart. 

"I… I still don't know what you meant by that. I don't know the answer to that but…"

"I don't care anymore. I don't need your answer". You cut through his words so fast before he could end his sentence.

He was still holding your wrist but his calm expression instantly twisted into a pained frown. It reflects his heart deeply.

"...I'm sorry". He spoke almost in a hushed whisper.

"So stop talking to me! and just go…". Your rage slowly quiets down as your gaze returns towards him. Droplets of warm tears softly landed on your face as he looked down at you. 

He didn't speak and neither did you. The both of you stood there in between the unfamiliar tension of emotions. You didn't understand why he was crying neither can he fathom the reasons behind your anger. It was confusing and yet laughable. 

You sighed, the sight of the Chief justice crying himself because of you felt unreal to you but you knew he was just being honest. You knew you made him cry for simply being expressive of your anger.

"Stop crying… you… you don't look like yourself". You quietly mumbled under your breath as you tried to keep your cool attached yet a part of you wanted to console him.

He didn't, that didn't make him stop from crying. That grown man, who's taller than you, quietly cried like a small child being told to do their difficult maths homework on their own.

"Alright, I'll… I'll listen to you". You slowly added with a heavy sigh.

"Really?". He calmly questions. Despite sulking in messy tears, his voice seems to lack any unclear clarity. It was as if the voice barely belonged to a person who's crying.

You nodded and slowly returned your gaze to meet his enchantingly unnatural blue eyes. His sad gaze feels ethereal as the beauty of nature itself.

"Then could you please explain to me… tell me the answer to your question." His beautiful eyes still glistened with tears but he seems a lot calmer than before.

Neuvilette's innocent demands for your answer felt unnecessarily weird. How could he ask you that when humans not only have difficult unexplainable emotions but ego and pride?

Should you say it directly? You were so close to moving on from these feelings. If you explain that to him, would anything change? You didn't want to give a hint of hope inside your heart for that love anymore. It's unbearable if things stay the same. If you were being honest, you wanted more than just him to understand your feelings. 

"It's alright if you don't know the answer. It means that my question was just a bunch of baloney"

Unlike his usual calm facial expression, his eyes widened in response to your remarks, "You're lying. Tell me the truth!"

His words struck your heart like piercing lightning in a thunderous rain. You nervously looked away from his gaze. He was right.

Despite that, you shook your head refusing to tell him. You slowly reached out a hand in an attempt to wipe away the evident tears on his cheeks but you hesitated. After all, who would've been so insane to touch a person's face without clear reasons. You're well aware that you're just a stranger to him.

Neuvilette didn't move away neither did he say a word but instead he brought his face to lean into the palm of your hand. His smooth clear skin in contact with your bare hands felt a little odd to you but somehow your restless heart feels startlingly at peace with the soothing warmth.

His eyes calmly closed, seemingly appreciating your touch. You noticed that he seems unusually happy because of such simple reasons or was it just your own imagination playing tricks on you?

"I feel-"

The moment his mouth started to speak you retreated your hands away from him. The conscience in you feels reluctant to be in a vulnerable state once more. You're in this constant battle of removing yourself from harm but at the same time you still want to place a glimmer of hope. Which you knew you shouldn't considering that he's unable to perceive you more than you wished him to be.

He opened his eyes to meet your gaze. As he stared back deep into your gaze, he could feel the intense rejection even before he tried anything. Where did he go wrong? He has so many unanswered questions but where should he start first? 

"You should know that I feel suffocated with sadness when I can't see you anymore and it's unfair that you're avoiding me now"

Your disappointment slowly returned into your heart. To you, he was a lost cause but wasn't it too harsh to say it too soon? Your heart was torn in between.

"Unfair? What are you spouting about?". You snickered coldly with your eyes unwaveringly gazing up at him. 

He looked away to the side at your distaste directed on him but he courageously kept his hands securely holding on to your wrist. He hasn't given up and he won't let go.

Neuvilette knew that it was better to keep quiet when humans were in rage but he still wondered if the things he wanted to say would change your mind. Even just a little, would it amend things between you and him?

"...because maybe after all this time, I thought things weren't bad between us". He turned his head towards you once more. A sense of calmness returned when he spoke his mind.

"It wasn't. I was the problem but you don't need to worry… just give me more time and maybe someday we can finally be friends"

"So now? What about now?". He spoke without much hesitation and dismissed the things you’ve told him.

His question pushed you like a tsunami. What was he talking about? Was he giving hope? You want to cry so damn much because it was still painful despite your efforts to move on. It's only been a week since your efforts to forget about him but obviously that wasn't even near to erase your lingering feelings.

"I… I don't know. Why don't you tell me?".

Admittingly you still want something out of this. Perhaps him being here holds something significant for you. It must mean something that he hasn't told you. Maybe you should give him a chance. But would you let him fix it? Would you dare to step into the hand he was trying to give you? Or can he even be that someone?

You're scared to hope and yet you still want him to tell you something more. Something that could at least make you feel better.

Neuvilette searched your face in an attempt to find a definitive answer from you.

"It was really difficult to find you". He starts.

It's true, you were extremely careful with your whereabouts despite the chances are already insignificant due to the nature of his busy schedule. You refrained from walking outside and purchased groceries only when you knew there was an ongoing trial. Such as today, it was said that he was supposed to be in an important court session.

"It's because you were busy". You simply added.

"But I get to meet you today". He replied with a soft voice.

You always thought why did you even fall in love with him in the first place? He barely even smiles or does anything besides his responsibility in the court. He was that boring if you were to compare him with your preferred ideals. What nonsense has had your heart trapped into this?

"Maybe I should travel somewhere else so that we wouldn't meet again". You sarcastically replied under your breath.

"If you do that then… I'll come with you". He responded without a second thought. Your words have yet again driven him into the corner of his own emotions. If he doesn't speak now it'll be too late. 

You scoffed as you shook your head in complete disbelief, "Sure, even a child would believe you".

"You could do anything to me, you can run, you can hide but I won't let you escape my love". He suddenly spoke with conviction.

"You're bluffing, who are you to talk about love?". Those words came out of his mouth so suddenly that you became defensive. 

"If you feel like leaving. I'm not going to beg you to stay because it's your rights". He calmly spoke but with a hint of confidence as he ignored your statements.

You took a step back and he took a step forward.

"This regret has filled me with a sadness that has haunted me for a week". He then admitted.

"I'm aware that I've been dismissing you whenever you want to help me but I never intended for you to handle my responsibilities.". He paused to look at you.

"Perhaps you didn't like that good gesture of mine but I'll make sure to listen to you from now on". He opened his mouth to say something but seemingly hesitated.

"So maybe I should hold my heart out for you to take but…". He gently held both of your trembling hands and brought it in between the both of you.

"...will you keep it?"

------[ yes | no ]-------

A/N: and so I shall see how this will go...

[stcrfeesh]

the complexities of simplicity

(and the friendships built with sandwiches)

No warnings apply; Safe for work.

The retelling of the roundabout way Al Haitham tries to become friends with you.

Or, how not to be spies with covers as employees in the corporate world.

Al Haitham was such a conundrum. Unlike everyone else, he was different.

Despite the field he was working in, one where he was required to lie, he was still never one to engage in false pleasantries and hollow compliments. He’d openly refuse to take time out of his day to chat about the weather to get the information he needs—the twists and turns were unnecessary to him.

If he could walk into an establishment to steal information, then he’d do just that. It was simpler to walk in and then walk out without being detected anyway. It wasn’t like anyone would suspect some feeble man for information theft. Why would they? After all, he was just another paying customer using the washroom after trying out a new coffee blend.

Al Haitham gets what he wants and what he needs, in a roundabout, but oddly efficient way. Why aim for the straight path to his goals when he could simply jump to his goal? It would save him so much more time and effort—save him his breath and thoughts.

The path between point A and point B was, indeed, already simple. Even a pigeon would understand such simplicity. But in his mind, anything that was already efficient would always have something to make it even simpler.

The simpler it was, the less work he’d have to do, and the less work on his plate, the better. It was like dealing with fractions in math—always answer with the simplest form.

He was a conundrum in the way he contradicts himself. The lengths he’d go to for certain things; an extensive plan on how to steal intel without having to talk much with anyone, or perhaps, commissioning someone to fashion a device for him so he wouldn’t have to water the plants outside every single morning himself.

Al Haitham in all of his contradictions, turns simplicity into complexity, and sometimes, it made your head spin in confusion.

You would always see him enter the building at eight in the morning—on the dot every day. It was the same routine for the most part; a cup of coffee in his hand, and his coworker? Friend? You weren’t sure, but the guy would always be complaining behind him as he rubbed the sleep off his eyes. Then, Al Haitham leaves at four in the afternoon. At that time, though, without his partner—who you’d usually see cursing his very being—in tow.

In all the days he’s passed by you, you’d give him a smile—not the same one you give everyone else, though. This smile was reserved for him alone, you thought that perhaps, he needed a little more kindness in his life—so, you’d smile at him every morning and every afternoon to greet him. Much to your dismay, however, he never greets you back. No “good morning” or “thank you”, and especially not a single glance towards you. And so, you have come to a conclusion.

Al Haitham was not nice. Though, of course, not in the way where you’d call him an absolute prick. He wasn’t a dick, per se, he was just… unsociable. Well, maybe he was a little bit of a dick for never greeting you back, but it wasn’t like a greeting less affected your entire life. He was just some sleeper agent working on the top floor of the same company you’ve been stationed in, who, also happens to not like making small talk.

Yes, that was definitely it. Perhaps he liked being in his own little world where nothing bothers him, and you could get around that. That much was understandable. After all, with years of undercover work at the front desk of a company where the rudest people in all of Teyvat would barge in with their incomprehensible demands, you too would like to be in your own little world.

Alas, such is life in the world of espionage.

Al Haitham wasn’t an important part of your life—okay, maybe he was, but that was if, and only if your covers were to be blown. You weren’t high up in the ranks to have had the immediate clearance to know his codename, it even took you half a year of running errands for headquarters to figure it out yourself. Turns out, Al Haitham, the quiet man who’d never greet you back, was the Agent Vulture everyone either feared or idolised. Or both.

Should your covers be blown, you’d trust him enough to get the both of you out of trouble. That was assuming he’d even lend you a hand.

You wonder then if he knows you were just like him—a sleeper agent, which you now begin to doubt he does 1. He probably doesn’t even know your name despite the gold name tag pinned onto your uniform. Does he even see you greet him? You’ll never know, to be honest, nor do you ever plan on knowing.

That thought changes, however, on one unsuspecting morning.

You watch him enter the front doors. On the dot at eight in the morning. His companion mutters curses under his breath as he follows behind him. Today, you manage to make out what the blond man was complaining about.

“Oh, I don’t know, Al Haitham,” You heard the blond whisper sarcastically. “Maybe a ‘Thank you so much for helping me out, Kaveh’ would do!”

You watch Al Haitham inch closer towards the front desk, probably to clock in. He hisses at his companion, “Why should I thank you, oh great Kaveh? I pay for your share of the rent. Isn’t that a ‘thank you’ enough?”

Kaveh, you let the name resound in your mind. So that’s what the blond guy’s name was. The name sounded familiar to you, but you couldn’t pinpoint why or how. Not that it mattered.

When they were near enough, you put on a smile to greet them, “Good morning,”

The blond guy, whose name you now know was Kaveh, stops ranting furiously at his companion and flashes you a toothed smile. “Yes, hello, darling, good morning.”

Al Haitham presses his hand against the clocking device, and it makes a little ding sound, signifying that he’s successfully clocked in. You already assumed he wouldn’t pay you any mind like always did, that he’d walk away, but he doesn’t. He stops in his tracks, to look you directly in the eye.

He doesn’t glance at your name tag, but somehow, he says your name as if he’s known the entire time. You hadn’t expected him to know your name, quite the contrary, actually. You believed he didn’t even know your face. So, when he says your name, your jaw drops the slightest in shock, and then you snap it back shut when you realise you must’ve looked like a fool.

“Yes?” You answer simply, testing the waters. “Is there something you need?”

He shakes his head letting you know that he didn’t, and then hands you something wrapped in wax paper, “You left your lunch, so I bought an extra sandwich for you instead.”

Now you’re just confused. What in Teyvat was he even saying? What does he mean you left your lunch at home? You narrow your eyes at him, wondering if he was a double agent out to get you, but his expression remains as stoic as ever. Had it not been for his fingers tapping rhythmically against the desk, you would have believed what you wanted to believe.

Message, you managed to gather from his tapping. You nod, getting his message as you take the item from him. “Oh… I was in a rush earlier, and I forgot to make lunch for myself. Thank you, you didn’t have to trouble yourself.”

Al Haitham nods one last time before he and Kaveh disappear into the hallway.

When they were finally out of earshot, your front desk partner playfully bumps your shoulder. She grins at you, and you immediately knew she was up to no good, “I see you have someone bringing you lunch now… I wonder who he might be. Boyfriend, perhaps?”

When she says that, you couldn’t help the snort that comes out of you. You? A boyfriend? And the best operative in Sumeru, no less? When Shroomboars begin to fly.

“He’s just a friend,” You lie—or, maybe, it was a small little white lie. Al Haitham wasn’t your friend, you didn’t even know his favourite colour, but you knew him just enough to get your lie to work. Plus, you certainly weren’t lying when you denied being in a romantic relationship with him.

You are a spy, an asset specifically placed in this specific company in case someone from your faction needed immediate help. Dating was far, far off the list of things you needed to do.

“Just a friend?” She asks you, her voice full of doubt. “Dear, you can’t expect me to believe that. Friends don’t just bring each other lunch because they’re friends.”

You frown at her mindset, that was untrue. Friends do bring each other lunch from time to time. You flick her forehead. “Not everything is about romance, you know?” You stare at the wrapped food in your hands. You knew better than to play with food, but you were curious, so you squish it lightly—it was probably a sandwich.

You cough, clearing your throat. The next thing you say, now this—this was a lie, “I need to put this away. I’ll be real quick.”

“Be quick,” Your desk partner reminds. “The front doors will be opening soon.”

And that’s what you did. Quick on your feet, you find yourself in the break room in no time. When you notice that the room was deserted, you carefully unwrap the wax paper. You find a small card tucked between the wax paper and the sandwich (you were right).

Report to headquarters at 6 PM.

You flip the card around to find nothing else. You stare at the card for another moment longer. Not only did he actually know your name, but he also knew who you were—that you were an operative like him. Which now begs the question, was he just being a dick the entire time?

You shove the card in your pocket before placing the sandwich in the fridge.

Seriously. You thought to yourself, was it so hard to just tell me this in person?

Al Haitham giving you homemade sandwiches did not stop that one time.

The next morning, he gives you another one. Using the same excuse as the day before, but this time without the message from headquarters. He does it again every single day for the next week, and then the next two months. Throughout it all, he uses the exact same excuse over and over again, “You forgot your lunch again,”

On one of those mornings, you raise a brow at Kaveh. A silent question of why. What was his companion planning? Why must it be you, in particular? But, when Kaveh furrows his brows, you realise then that even his own companion had no idea—the poor guy was even confused.

“Here,” Al Haitham says, handing you the sandwich. He stops to look at you for a short moment, and begins to tap his fingers against the desk as he speaks, “It’s cheese and turkey.”

Tap, tap, tap, tap—A message.

“Oh,” Is all that you’re able to let out, despite all the thoughts racing in your mind. “Thank you again, Al Haitham.”

As he was about to leave, you stop him, “Hold on!” You pull out the box hidden in a cubby behind the desk before walking towards him, “I was making cookies last night, and I made a batch too many. So, uhm, these are for you.”

That was a lie. You made the cookies for him, and you were quite certain he knew you were lying. But, if your lie works, then it works. He didn’t need to know the truth.

He raises a brow at you, and for a glimmer of a moment, you swore you saw a smile grace his lips. It was small and subtle, but you swore you saw it. Maybe you were imagining things, maybe you were not—you were leaning toward the latter, though—but regardless of whether it was real or a mere trick of the light, you thought that smiles suited him. It made him look nicer.

“Al Haitham!” Kaveh called, letting out an annoyed groan. “Come on! What are you still doing over there?”

“Thanks,” Was all he tells you as he takes the box from you. You hold your breath for a moment, afraid his hand would brush against yours, but it doesn’t. Not even the slightest bit, and you almost let out a snort in front of him. Thankfully, you were able to stop yourself.

“Thank you,” You reply, like the fool that you are. You cough, pretending something was just stuck in your throat. “I mean, yeah, sure. No problem.”

Al Haitham nods, following his companion further down into the hall. When you were certain he was gone, you let out the breath you were holding. What the hell?

Of course, it wouldn’t, you think to yourself. Why should it? You weren’t some protagonist in a cliché romance novel scene.

You return to the front desk, peeking inside the wrapper of the sandwich he had made for you. You discreetly slip the note out, stealing a glance before shoving it into your pockets. Eyes darting towards your desk partner, you let out a sigh of relief. Good, she didn’t see.

Meet me for lunch, if you’d like, was what was written on the note. And you do, you meet him for lunch a few hours later. You find him waiting for you by the front doors, in his hand a brown paper bag—which you assumed was his packed lunch.

“Hello,” You greet politely. “I hope you haven’t been waiting long.”

“I didn’t. Let’s go?” The man begins to walk, and at first, you assumed he was going to leave you by yourself, but he doesn’t. He looks back at you, waiting for you—again. That was embarrassing.

Despite the heat that was evidently creeping onto your cheeks, dusting them with a shade of pink, with your whole chest and whatever arrogance was left in you, you decide then and there that Al Haitham wasn’t the dick you thought he was. Of course, he still wasn’t nice in your books, but he was a decent guy.

You jog up to him—at least, with your heels, you attempt to. “Thanks for the sandwich again, Al Haitham.”

“You don’t have to keep thanking me every time you see me, you know?” He chuckles. You immediately look up at him in surprise. He chuckles. You’ve never heard him chuckle before. Holy archons.

“You don’t have to keep bringing me a sandwich either,” You tell him. “Actually, why do you give me a sandwich every single day? Are you trying to condition me or something?”

If you thought a chuckle was surprising enough, then you weren’t prepared for the laugh he lets out. Al Haitham laughs at your words—at the notion of you thinking you were being conditioned by him.

“I’m not, don’t worry,” He says, still laughing. “I just find making an extra sandwich for a friend therapeutic.”

At that very moment, realisation finally dawns on you. The sandwiches were because he wanted to be your friend. Al Haitham wanted to be your friend. The twists and turns he went through all because he wanted to be your… friend. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself at that.

In the little moments you had been allowed to catch glimpses of him beyond the stoic exterior, you learn that he was one contradicting and ironic man. He was a man that made the most simple of things complicated, and a man who was too honest, despite the life he leads as a spy.

Al Haitham was not nice, you were definitely certain of that. He was not someone who engaged in false pleasantries to get into the good graces of people. So uncharacteristic of an operative—or, at least, that was what you think.

He was blunt—a little too honest, but you realise then that in a life where everything around you was a lie, you didn’t mind having an insanely honest man for a friend; even with all the contradictions and irony.

“Friend,” You repeat, smiling at him. “Well then, friend, would you like to have lunch with me every day from now on?”

“I see no reason as to why not,” He replies. “Friend.”

Who knew sandwiches were such a good, albeit roundabout way to make friends?

This is me experimenting with insert-reader fics. Please take my silly interpretation of Al Haitham. He's a funny guy. I am also sorry if this doesn't make sense. I'll probably rewrite this some day. I just needed to get the brainrot out of my head to continue writing off the precipice. I hope you enjoy, though!

A sleeper agent, also called sleeper cell, is a spy who is placed in a target country or organization not to undertake an immediate mission, but instead to act as a potential asset if activated.

GENSHIN MASTERLIST  |  KO-FI SUPPORT

© stcrfeesh 2020-2023 — reposts, translations, and any other form of reproduction of my work is prohibited.

[birgittesilverbae]

okay okay but get this. three sentence prompt: beatrice & shannon; about ava

went off the rails a bit. not canon to tmtl

//

Shannon tosses her a staff. "For old time's sake, Bea?"

Beatrice lets it fall past her hand, kicks it up with her toe at the last moment, catches it with an unnecessary flourish. "Ready to lose?"

"Oh, cocky Beatrice is out today."

"It isn't cocky if I can back it up."

Shannon makes a noise that's half agreement and half bemused laughter. "Fair enough. First to three touches?"

"Are you going soft on me? First to the ground." She flicks her wrist, spins the staff across the back of her hand. 

"You're on."

They're more evenly matched, now, Shannon's speed and strength boosted by whatever had happened to her on the other side of the Arc, but Beatrice's skill is still superior. She lands a thrust to Shannon's ribs, a strike across her back, but Shannon always stays upright, staff raised between them, grinning. Always grinning.

(One must, after all, imagine Shannon happy.)

They strike, block, parry, a partnered dance, steps memorised in long hours spent sparring each other here at Cat's Cradle. They know each other's tendencies, strengths, weaknesses. How Shannon's knee will buckle if she puts her weight on it the wrong way. How an awkward shoulder movement can cause the old pain of Beatrice's broken collarbone to flood in anew, leaving her open for a fraction of a second before she schools herself back into picture-perfect form. 

Back and forth across the dirt, strike and match, block and match, parry and match, until they're both soaked with sweat and bubbling with laughter. Beatrice's lip is split in two places, and there's blood dripping from her eyebrow. Shannon's arm had hung disjointed for a brief moment when Beatrice had gotten inside her range and leveraged her staff against Shannon's, but she'd only shrugged her shoulder back into place with the smallest grimace, a faint blue glow just visible beneath her shirt sleeve.

They end up at one another's throats. Shannon laughs first, a sound that fills Beatrice with warmth, and she can't help but join in. 

"You're losing your touch," Shannon needles, grinning. "Spending too much time getting your Halo Bearer up to speed, hey? Not enough on your own skills?"

"I'd still thrash you on an even playing field," Beatrice replies, "if there were such a thing as an even playing field."

Shannon knocks against her shoulder. "Glad to hear that lesson got through to you." They're seated, now, on the slope alongside the training ground.

She doesn't mean to say it, but it slips out all the same. "I think I'd be able to remember every word you've ever said to me, if I were pressed."

Shannon reaches up to pinch her cheek. "Oh, I'd forgotten about that! Little Bea with her little crush."

Beatrice ducks her head, her cheeks burning. "Before I learned how deeply uncool you were."

"Of course." Shannon glances towards the sky and her face falls. "We don't have long now, Bea."

"Don't have long until what?" Beatrice's foot slips, knocking one of the roof tiles free. It slides off the edge of the chapel and smashes on the ground below.

"Until you tell me about her," Shannon says easily. "Can't keep dodging my questions forever."

"Your–"

"I met her once, your Ava. Very earnest, very sincere. She wanted so badly to be helpful."

"That's Ava." Beatrice pushes the coffee cup across the counter to Shannon. 

"Your Ava," Shannon prompts, raising the cup to her in a mock salute. 

"My Ava," Beatrice says, because she can, because by the lake there's no one to hear but Shannon. 

"Was she, in the end?" Shannon weighs a rock in her hand, cocks her wrist back and sends it flying. "Helpful?"

Beatrice watches as the rock skips on and on and on. "More than she could ever know. She was the best of us."

"You loved her."

The stone beneath her knees scalds her through her jeans. "I loved her," she confirms, "for all the good it did her."

"Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength," Shannon quotes, tugging Beatrice to her feet and into a hug, "while loving someone deeply gives you courage. Have courage, Bea." Her lips brush Beatrice's forehead.

Beatrice stands in front of the Cruciform Sword, interred as a memorial. "Shannon?" She twists, but all she sees are flashes, glimpses. "Shannon?"

"Have strength."

The Sword thins to wisps, fades to nothingness. 

Her vision goes grey at the edges, then black. 

Beatrice wakes up blood-soaked and screaming.

[anarkittyuwuuniverse]

"We have to take what useful work remains and transform it into a pleasing variety of game-like and craft-like pastimes, indistinguishable from other pleasurable pastimes except that they happen to yield useful end-products. Surely that shouldn’t make them less enticing to do. Then all the artificial barriers of power and property could come down. Creation could become recreation. And we could all stop being afraid of each other.

I don’t suggest that most work is salvageable in this way. But then most work isn’t worth trying to save. Only a small and diminishing fraction of work serves any useful purpose independent of the defense and reproduction of the work-system and its political and legal appendages. Thirty years ago, Paul and Percival Goodman estimated that just five percent of the work then being done—presumably the figure, if accurate, is lower now—would satisfy our minimal needs for food, clothing and shelter. Theirs was only an educated guess but the main point is quite clear: directly or indirectly, most work serves the unproductive purposes of commerce or social control. Right off the bat we can liberate tens of millions of salesmen, soldiers, managers, cops, stockbrokers, clergymen, bankers, lawyers, teachers, landlords, security guards, ad-men and everyone who works for them. There is a snowball effect since every time you idle some bigshot you liberate his flunkies and underlings also. Thus the economy implodes.

Forty percent of the workforce are white-collar workers, most of whom have some of the most tedious and idiotic jobs ever concocted. Entire industries, insurance and banking and real estate for instance, consist of nothing but useless paper-shuffling. It is no accident that the “tertiary sector,” the service sector, is growing while the “secondary sector” (industry) stagnates and the “primary sector” (agriculture) nearly disappears. Because work is unnecessary except to those whose power it secures, workers are shifted from relatively useful to relatively useless occupations as a measure to ensure public order. Anything is better than nothing. That’s why you can’t go home just because you finish early. They want your time, enough of it to make you theirs, even if they have no use for most of it. Otherwise why hasn’t the average work week gone down by more than a few minutes in the last sixty years?

Next we can take a meat-cleaver to production work itself. No more war production, nuclear power, junk food, feminine hygiene deodorant—and above all, no more auto industry to speak of. An occasional Stanley Steamer or Model T might be all right, but the auto-eroticism on which such pest-holes as Detroit and Los Angeles depend is out of the question. Already, without even trying, we’ve virtually solved the energy crisis, the environmental crisis and assorted other insoluble social problems.

Finally, we must do away with far and away the largest occupation, the one with the longest hours, the lowest pay and some of the most tedious tasks around. I refer to housewives doing housework and child-rearing. By abolishing wage-labor and achieving full unemployment we undermine the sexual division of labor. The nuclear family as we know it is an inevitable adaptation to the division of labor imposed by modern wage-work. Like it or not, as things have been for the last century or two it is economically rational for the man to bring home the bacon, for the woman to do the shitwork and provide him with a haven in a heartless world, and for the children to be marched off to youth concentration camps called “schools,” primarily to keep them out of Mom’s hair but still under control, but incidentally to acquire the habits of obedience and punctuality so necessary for workers. If you would be rid of patriarchy, get rid of the nuclear family whose unpaid “shadow work,” as Ivan Illich says, makes possible the work-system that makes it necessary. Bound up with this no-nukes strategy is the abolition of childhood and the closing of the schools. There are more full-time students than full-time workers in this country. We need children as teachers, not students. They have a lot to contribute to the ludic revolution because they’re better at playing than grown-ups are. Adults and children are not identical but they will become equal through interdependence. Only play can bridge the generation gap." -Bob Black, The Abolition of Work

[acceleracers-baby]

Acceleracers HC’s! Road Trip Roles! Teku Edition!

Teku

(Nolo Pasaro, Vert Wheeler, Shirako Takamoto, Kurt Wylde, Karma Eiss)

+Bonus Round

(Brian Kadeem & Banjee Castillo)

Teku

Nolo Pasaro - Nolo is in charge of picking the movies- assuming whatever big ass van they renovated comes with one of those little movie player things. Who am I kidding- these guys probably would have just installed one if it didn’t come stock. Unfortunately, Nolo’s movie choices are always pretty predictable. It’s either going to be one of the now TEN Fast and Furious movies, Pacific Rim, Transformers, or The Losers. That being said, Nolo DOES take bribes. Vert once washed his car for a week just so they could watch Surfs Up.

Vert Wheeler - Speaking of Vert, he’s the snack guy! At first, he gathered up everyone’s requests a few days before they got on the road, but now he practically has everyone’s snack preferences memorized. Let it be known that he takes this job very seriously. He genuinely goes out of his way to ensure everyone’s got at least one or two things to munch on. That’s also why he starts shopping a few days out from the actual trip, so that way if he has to run by different stores, or cut up fruit and divide them up into little ziplock bags he’s got enough time to do it. I also like to imagine at some point Jack comes home early from one of his missions and sees his son just surrounded by a shit ton of food like “are we doomsday prepers now??? What the hell is going on???”

Shirako Takamoto - I feel like I don’t even have to say it, but I’m going to anyway. Shirako is the DJ. Like Vert, he is very serious about this role. He starts curating a playlist as soon as he knows a road trip is going to happen. It doesn’t matter if he’s learning about it months in advance, he starts on it immediately. Despite always having headphones on and seemingly vibing in his own little world most of the time, Shirako is an astounding listener. He never fails to add the perfect mix of everyone’s favorite songs to the playlist. Not only that, but he has it sectioned out by hour. He wants to make sure whatever music they have playing, whether it be background noise for group conversations, or loud sing along sessions, it’s perfect!

Kurt Wylde - Spoilers for Karma, but they’re the two drivers. They work in shifts, switching off every few hours to (1) make sure they’re making the best time and (2) prevent any unnecessary road fatigue. Kurt is also practically the group big brother, so before any trip he’s sending everyone checklists to make sure they don’t forget anything. It’s ridiculous how in-depth they are. Obviously, he trusts them to fulfill their individual road trip roles but he’s on their asses for literally anything else. They’ll be ready to go at like 4am- everyone’s tired asf and he’s going around like “wallets? phones? chargers? toothbrushes???” making sure they didn’t forget any last minute items.

Karma Eiss - Like you read for Kurt, she is one of the designated drivers. On top of that though she is also the group navigator. She has like Waze levels of finding the best routes. With her at the helm, they’re able to make a 12 hour drive in a fraction of the time. Karma also has his uncanny ability to pick the best rest stops. Want to use the restroom but also take a quick breather in a nice scenic area? Good thing Karma was able to find the most beautiful truck stop you’ve ever seen with the cleanest bathroom ever. It’s honestly a little scary.

Bonus Round

Brian Kadeem - With Kadeem, it’s all about the journey, not the destination. When this guy road trips, he ROAD TRIPS. What I mean by that is you will be stopping at just about every cite to stop and smell the roses. It doesn’t matter if it’s some tacky tourist trap or one of the seven wonders of the world, he wants to see it, learn about it, and appreciate it. And if anyone one deserves to be able to relax a little, it’s Kadeem. Let this man enjoy his goofy little side quests. Especially, cause he ends up finding the greatest hole in the wall places to stop at too.

Banjee Castillo - Banjee quite literally never runs out of energy, so you HAVE to give this guy something to do or he will be miserable the entire ride. Thankfully, he is absurdly versatile. Obviously, his preferred role is to be in the drivers seat, but when he is not doing that he is the king of road trip games. 21 questions, I spy, and trivia are child’s play compared to the shit that Banjee brings to the table. Don’t get him wrong, he loves the classics, but they get old pretty fast on long road trips so he’s had to get creative in the past. It’s not uncommon for there to be three games going on at once half way through the drive. Usually two “spot em” games like Punch Buggies & Cows on my Side, and one actual game like Mafia or Song Quizzes.

——— Thanks for Reading ———

[autism-corner]

Ramblings of a Lunatic

II 750 Words II Levi x reader II Pure fluff II You find Levi ranting about his feelings for you II Established relationship II

The soft blue hue of Levi's room at midnight slowly reached your eyes as you blinked awake. It wasn't uncommon for you to fall asleep in Leviathans tub, but you'd usually only wake up at a reasonable time and with the demon still in your embrace. This time, your arms were entirely empty. As you became more and more awake, searching for the missing warmth, your ears started to pick up on something. A soft murmuring, coming from near fish-henry's tank.

"It's just. ARGH!!!" As you peak over the edge, you find your demon clinging to his water-filled walls. He's turned away from you and sitting on his knees, his head apparently resting in his hands. Some other blanket than the one that you two fell asleep under was draped over his shoulders.

"MC is. Practically perfect. How can they just fall asleep so easily? And with ME of all people?!!" The panic in his voice is clear, but you also pick up on a tiny smile filled with pride. "Henry, I just still dont understand. Why would they keep sticking to me, when they could honestly get anything in the world?" A sigh. As the silence took its place, you debated if you should break your own cover. You could go over to him and comfort him, kiss him, tell him all his worries are completely unnecessary.

But, there was also another part of you that recognized the importance this moment had for Levi. He'd clearly done this before. He just needs to talk about his feelings to someone that isn't you, even if that means it needs to be a fish. Plus, it doesn't actually seem like Leviathan is in that bad of a mind-space. Even though you can't see his face, you can tell by the small things in his voice that he's just excited. He probably just needs to gush it out. So, you keep still, and stay listening to your demon.

"Whenever they smile I just KNOW that people would drop anything to see it again. I know I do. If they're just walking around I can feel the eyes that're attracted to them. It makes me want to pull them close and show everyone just how taken they actually are."

Memories with Leviathan start to surface. Just little things. Walking trough the halls of RAD with his hand ever-inching closer to yours. Always striding just a little quicker whenever either of you spot the other. All the tiny gift Levi has given you out of seemingly nowhere, but always whenever you were feeling a bit down. They all add up. You realize that it's specifically those things that make your relationship with Levi so perfect. The tiny ways that the two of you interact create a magical atmosphere, always growing with love.

As you relish the memories, Leviathan begins to talk again. "You know, Henry? I mean, you must. It's not like I haven't told you this like 100 times already, LOL. Anytime I see MC, my heart grows even more. Even now, its expanding. Just thinking about how they're currently in my bed, soundly sleeping. Knowing they're comfortable and safe, and that it's their specific choice to actually be with me, it just fills me with love. How can it not? I'm so unbelievably lucky." There's a sound that can only be described as a dreamily-and-heavenly-in-love sigh. "Speaking off, have I told you about today? Just as we were walking to RAD we.........."

As you listened to Levi drone on about you and him, you felt yourself get tired again. Understandable, since it's been well past midnight. The apparent energy that Levi gets while talking about you amazes you, but you can't keep stopping your eyes from closing by themself. As you slowly doze off the the sound of your lover's rambling, you hope your dreams will be filled with even just a fraction of the love you feel right now.

---

You wake up again, this time at a reasonable time and with your demon back in your arms. While waking up, your memories of last nights' happenings come back again. Even though the subject of your adoration is still sleeping next to you, you're sure he wouldn't mind waking up to your numerous kisses. Your not planning on telling him what you witnessed anytime soon, but you make sure to clearly translate your feelings over and over again, with each press of your lips.

[steflionheart]

"General? What are yo—mph..."

These were the only words the Scribe was able to utter before he got interrupted in a rather sudden and, as some would probably say, very inappropriate way.

Alhaitham had been quietly reading one of the many reports about their missions from earlier that day when the door to the guest room he was staying in had burst open. As soon as none other than General Mahamatra Cyno had stepped inside, he’d closed it again behind him with just as much force. And before Alhaitham had the chance to even assess the situation, the shorter man had crossed the room with long and determined strides towards him.

Cyno had only stopped right in front of the Scribe, eyes practically glowing with fury and… something else.

Something red-hot.

Something akin to a brightly burning fire.

Passion.

That was the only thing Alhaitham could think of in the short moment before one of Cyno’s hands grabbed him by the collar and yanked him forward.

He needed a moment longer to process what exactly was going on as he released the reports and the pages went fluttering to the floor.

Considering everything that had already happened that day, it shouldn’t surprise Alhaitham much but it was certainly an outcome he hadn’t foreseen. Not even in his wildest predictions would he have thought of such a situation.

And the longer it went on, the more ridiculous it became, seeing it from a logical perspective. But that aside, he was only slightly perplexed by the fact that he wasn’t opposed to it.

Not in the slightest.

On the contrary.

He even deemed it… greatly pleasant.

The feeling of soft, plush lips pressing against his own suddenly felt so completely new and overwhelming that all he could do was tense and watch the General’s face intently. His eyes were clenched shut, his nose crinkled in a most adorable manner, and his hair was charmingly tousled. Just then, Alhaitham realized that Cyno wasn’t wearing his headpiece.

The more time passed, the more Alhaitham relaxed, muscles slowly loosening as his hands hovered awkwardly mid-air. He’d lifted them earlier in defense but seeing that it was completely unnecessary, he didn’t know anymore what to do with them. So he did the only thing that seemed the right one to do at that moment.

Deliberately slow, he moved them towards Cyno’s body, one settling on the small of the General’s back and the other cupping his face. Alhaitham tilted his head just a bit until their lips slotted together, like perfectly fitting puzzle pieces, and they naturally deepened the kiss.

Cyno tensed for a brief moment but soon enough relaxed until he eventually stepped even closer. He let go of Alhaitham’s collar, instead gently placing his hand flat against the Scribe’s chest.

An almost overwhelming, tingling sensation spread from there into every fiber of Alhaitham’s body. He wondered what might have caused this, considering that no one else’s touch had ever provoked such a strong reaction. But before he could dwell on it for too long, Cyno shifted slightly as he started to back away. Instinctively, Alhaitham’s grip tightened around the General’s back as he tried to keep him from retreating.

Defying all logic, he simply didn’t want this to end yet. But Cyno broke their kiss as he pulled back a fraction before leaning back in, forehead pressing against Alhaitham’s.

Cyno sighed, his warm breath softly fanning against Alhaitham’s lips as the General spoke up, his voice deep and slightly hoarse.

“You’re insufferable…”

His words were merely above a whisper, yet easily intelligible as Alhaitham blinked a few times in confusion. He looked up at Cyno, trying to get behind what he’d meant, trying to read anything in his beautiful ruby eyes but they were still closed.

Seeing that he wouldn’t come to any conclusion with the little facts he had, Alhaitham decided to simply ask.

“Gener—” he interrupted himself, deeming honorifics as unnecessary in consideration of their current situation. “Cyno… What’s the meaning of this?”

A few moments passed in which neither Cyno nor Alhaitham said a word; they simply reveled in their shared closeness, in the comforting silence between them. One could think that it must feel awkward for both, uncomfortable even, but Alhaitham actually thought it was quite soothing.

“I was so mad at you,” Cyno stated. “You were so cocky, almost arrogant even… It was infuriating!”

Cyno clenched his right hand and punched it against where it had been resting flat against Alhaitham’s chest with less force than one would have expected; it was merely a gentle bump.

Alhaitham was still utterly confused as to how what Cyno had felt that day would have led to their current situation.

“And that made you want to kiss me?” the Scribe asked.

Cyno jerked back, eyes once again ablaze with the same fervor from when he’d barged into the room. He walked a few steps back.

“Yes! …No— ugh! I don’t know…”

Cyno’s gaze softened right before he let his head hang low, body visibly slumping at his last words.

Alhaitham knitted his eyebrows, the gears in his head turning in an attempt to make sense of everything.

“So, my behavior today riled you up, right?”

A sigh.

“Yes.”

“And you felt agitated— enraged even?”

“Yes.”

“Then your thoughts and emotions were in disarray and boiled over, confusing you, so that your instincts took over,” Alhaitham stated, matter-of-factly.

Cyno, who was now looking at Alhaitham again, crossed his arms over his chest and simply nodded this time.

“Hm, I just still don’t understand how that would make you want to kiss me…?” Alhaitham mused. “Wouldn’t it rather lead to you wanting to punch me?”

“Sometimes, the line between punching and kissing is very thin,” Cyno mumbled, visibly annoyed, before stating much louder. “I’ve felt the ridiculous need to do this ever since our first encounter a few days ago alr—”

Cyno cut himself off, realizing what he’d just said as his cheeks flushed an adorable shade of red. He scowled, lips almost on the verge of a pout as he turned his head to the side. It was probably an attempt to hide his blush.

‘Cute’

This thought, accompanied by the sudden need to repeat their kiss from a few moments ago, crossed the Scribe’s mind before he could even grasp the situation.

“Ah,” he said instead, eyes never leaving Cyno’s as he slowly got up from the sofa he was still sitting on and took the few steps Cyno had backed away earlier.

“So, these emotions, this… urge to kiss me had been weighing on you ever since our first fight?”

Cyno’s head snapped back to the Scribe. His gaze was fierce, ruby red eyes shining brilliantly in the dim candlelight of the room.

“Not necessarily. But the way you acted the days after it, surely caused the line to blur between wanting to punch or kiss you. And that was even more infuriating.”

Alhaitham kept silent as his gaze roamed over Cyno’s face and body. He was simply standing there, facing him head-on, with arms crossed over his chest, and that endearing, almost pouty expression. A warm feeling spread from the center of Alhaitham’s chest through his whole body at that sight.

The Scribe took yet another step closer, dismissing all logic as he simply gave into the feeling that drove him to his next actions.

“Then I’m glad kissing won over punching,” he muttered before closing the last distance between them and capturing Cyno’s lips in a gentle, passionate kiss.

[arcane-abomination]

This is the path I’ve carefully cultivated over my long 20 years as a witch. It’s ultimately derived from concepts of chaos magick, Satanism, and Omnistic views. To sum it up simply, it’s a path that focus on the concept of our physical bodies being incapable of processing the full truth of the universe. What we see, are merely fractions that we’ve taken and given meaning to based on our individual perspectives. It’s this perspective that’s key to our existence, because from our personal perspective we create our beliefs and belief is the fuel of all Magickal workings. It’s what gives our energy its power. With this understanding we tend to put great emphasis on our perspective of ourselves. As fostering a positive perspective can lead to positive belief and therefore positive actions and reactions with the world around ourselves and an over all more pleasant life as a whole.

⚜️Behind The Name⚜️

Tenebris (ten-UH-bray) is the Latin word for dark and Luna is Latin for moon. Translated it means “The Path of Dark Moon.” The Symbolism here is in association with the dark moon itself. The dark or new moon is associated with the unseen and therefore the metaphysical realm. It echoes our awareness of what we perceive rather than what we see and it’s in that perception we find our true nature and therefore our truest selves.

⚜️ Religious Views ⚜️

The beliefs that make up this path are in no way a religious order but rather a list of concepts that can be applied to any personal structure of theology or way of life without the need for religious intervention. That means we take these concepts and use them to understand the world around us both magical and mundane in the way that best fits our own unique perspectives. What conclusions an individual reaches related to religious matters is of there own making. As long as the beliefs don’t cause unnecessary harm or destruction to any persons, places, cultures, or differing view points we believe in practicing what you feel called to.

⚜️ Reality ⚜️

As crazy as it may seem, there are 2 realities. The physical reality and the perceived reality. The physical reality is what exists all around us and the perceived reality is our perspective of that world and how it works. These realities exist simultaneously together and have the ability to effect one another. As example we can look at the phantom pregnancy. It happens when someone believes they are pregnant so much that the body begins to exhibit symptoms of that pregnancy, morning sickness, cravings, even a swollen belly. And this strange behavior doesn’t just extend to pregnancy. Many phantom illness have been documented. This just proves the point that perception can effect the physical reality.

Now, you mustn’t be fooled here. Perception doesn’t always manifest exactly what is, only what we want. The fact of the matter is that although the body looks pregnant there is no baby and therein we can conclude that our perspective is only part of the equation. Both realities are needed to properly navigate who we are in this universe. The want to be pregnant can lead to the possibility of actual pregnancy but only if we take the actual steps to do so and accept that what our minds may tells us won’t always be correct. It’s important to sift through the mess perspective reality can bring and find the balance between the two.

⚜️ Good & Evil ⚜️

Nothing in this world is completely one or the other. Everything is made up neutral energy that personal perspective dictates is good or bad to the individual. For instance A fox hunting a rabbit. As far as the rabbit is concerned the fox is an evil being trying to take its life but to the fox it’s actions are a good thing. The fox needs to eat and/or feed it’s family. The change in perspective allows for different views on the subject at hand.

Now, this isn’t an excuse to do whatever you want or escape consequences. Whatever action we make will always have a reaction. This concept is merely an acknowledgment that one’s own perception is key to their own views and thus how they react to the world around them. An individual in the rabbits position has every right to feel the way they do and act accordingly. Just because we make a choice doesn’t mean it’s going to be accepted as the right one by everyone else. Opposing perspectives will always see things differently. That’s why it’s important to look at all perspectives, as so often a single view can have a way of blinding us to something only the other view can see.

This concept also brings into the scope what we view as positive and negative traits in people. Even though we all are made up of both perfections and flaws, sometimes the views on what those flaws are, outweigh the views of their positives. This is why certain people in history can be seen as inherently evil. They may have definitely had some good traits to them but they were minuscule when compared to the lengthy list of harm and destruction the individual caused.

Finally, with all this understood it should go without saying that this path heavily frowns upon and 100% discourages mistreatment because of race, religion, culture, sexuality, biological sex, gender, or physical and mental disabilities. Not all differences are harmful or destructive just because your viewpoint sees it that way.

⚜️ Balance ⚜️

Everything in existence exists in a balance. Darkness and light, chaos and order, even life and death. You simply can’t have one without the other. For death to cease to exist so then by default would life. Each needs and compliments the other. These opposites are imperative to existence and can’t be undone. We can’t know happiness until we know sorrow. We can’t understand pleasure until we experience pain. All of nature keeps this understanding without fault.

⚜️ Comprehension ⚜️

Mortal brains are severely limited things. They can’t perceive the metaphysical in its entirety, their general makeup simply doesn’t allow it. However our soul/spirit/consciousness are limitless things trapped within that limited space and while they can project in the astral, see and experience things we can’t with physical eyes they as well are still within those limited boundaries. Only when our bodies die and our souls/spirits/consciousness are released do we become unbound by what once was limited and truly become the limitless we were meant to be. Only then can our perspective truly perceive all that is for what it is. Until then, we can only glimpse a fraction of what’s really there and from this fraction our personal perspectives draw all kinds of conclusions. You see, nobody knows the full truth only bits and pieces of it.

⚜️ Belief Itself ⚜️

Belief is the tool to all magick. It’s the fuel that both creates and destroys. Without it magick becomes a vehicle without the gas. But understand, belief is not the only step to be taken on our paths, it’s merely the first. The beginning to which we plan our entire journey. Belief manifests for us the necessities to make ourselves, and our actions bring those beliefs to life. Such concepts as deity, spell craft, the correspondences for magickal items, and the empowerment of symbols and stories have power only because we believe them to. That’s why many people from various cultures and religions find evidence of their beliefs working for them but not for others.

⚜️ Adaptation ⚜️

Adapting is a perfectly normal part of nature. You will not find any belief or culture that has not undergone growth through the years. This growth means adapting and readapting in accordance with societal progressions, personal development, and earthly changes. However, there is still a right and a wrong way to go about it. You should always know the history of what your adapting, it’s impact on the world, the people that it came from, and the proper respect it deserves. There’s a big difference between appropriation and appreciation that only proper research and self analysis will tell you.

This path is open and free to explore for anyone interested.

The symbol of Tenebris Luna

[vesperlionheart]

Hello｡◕‿◕｡

I have had an idea in my head for a long time. But it is large, so I wanted to ask a few things.

How do you juggle all the characters? Do you write the setting first, and then create a backstory for each character? What is the most convenient way to prescribe all this? And how not to be afraid that no one needs my idea, and I'm wasting my time on unnecessary things? If my goal is to create my own fanfic and get feedback.

I like the idea that my story will end and people will still be writing reviews 5 years from now. How do you feel when you receive feedback? When did you decide it was time to write your first story and see it through?

large world building projects are so much fun, it always feels like snuggling into a comfort blanket or sweater you can really immerse yourself in, at least for me it does.

Juggling a lot of characters can be a struggle since I'm personally a world driven type of author as opposed to the character driven and plot driven types of authors you might run across. What I mean by that is for me the world usually appears first in my mind and I have to build it out before I know exactly who lives in it or what's happening. I think the most convenient way to prescribe all the steps you want to take starts with knowing who you are as a writer and what your personal style is cause we're all made a little different. I got to know myself better as a write after reading The Curiosities, a collection of short stories by three different authors who all are a different type or have a different approach to writing. (I loved their notes to each other reviewing their stories and its a great read.) Knowing what works for you is what's most vital, and a lot of trial and error shouldn't be feared in order to better understand yourself. You'll never waste time trying to grow and improve yourself, even if you don't achieve the fame or money in the end.

For me, when I come up with a story idea, I am usually provoked by some other media I see and feel the urge to make something more suited to my tastes. I read about vampires or werewolves and wanna do my own spin on an urban high school for monsters, I get a fraction of information about some obscure mobile video game and want to run with it in a new direction that gives it lore and meaning beyond the pretty visuals. What do you enjoy reading or playing or watching? Chances are those are topics you might enjoy creating with. For me writing is like 'play' and I enjoy playing with some things more than others as my tastes change and mature with time. On the more technical side of things, in order to build a functioning story I try to make sure I have a problem in my story and I try to ensure my protagonists are characters with needs or desires that push them along through the narrative. These can change depending on the setting they're in.

When I first started writing I was like 12/13 and I just wanted to write for the fun of it and didn't know what I was doing when I posted my first fic online. I appreciated the validation of others who read my work and commented/reviewed, and I think later on that motivated me to switch up my style and try new things for the thrill of it. (No regrets, 10/10 would do again.) You asked about "how not to be afraid that no one needs my idea, and I'm wasting my time on unnecessary things?" Believe me when I say people need stories. I'm not sure about a lot of things in life but I know stories have existed as long as people have lived and there's a reason for that. We need stories as a species. Maybe you do create a story that gets 0 comments or only a few likes and clicks. It happens to most of us when we start out. We think we're making crap and never realize our fields need that fertilizer for a better harvest in the future. You'll make some bad poems and stories and mess up plays or scripts in your life and that's good as long as you don't let it stop you. Keep trying and figure out what works for you. Keep digging until you strike gold. Your brain and your soul deserve the nourishment creating gives them. Make art any way you want and don't look back.

It's fucking amazing to know someone loved what I wrote, even 5-10+ years later. It's humbling and haunting at the same time. I'll never stop being in awe of how great it is to know someone, somewhere in the world of endless possibilities, found some joy in my story. I'm forever in awe of how cool that is. But the older I get the more I realize this writing thing I do, this expression of creativity I gravitate towards, is a gift unto me for my own sake. I need to create stories. I want to live a little in these dream worlds of mine before the daylight burns it all way and makes me go back to work. Writing is a means of self preservation at this point, even though it's a lot of hard work I still mess up on. I find so much joy in the ideas I try to flesh out, so I hope you can discover for yourself the unique joy of creating too. Don't let fear hold you back. Write your story.

[farfromdaylight]

more talk (complaining?) about ff7 remake below...

one thing i hate in video games is when you, the player, have to go through a long dungeon fighting through everything and solving puzzles and everything, and then a NPC shows up once you reach the end, having somehow skipped past all of the hard work you did to get to the end. this is a very specific complaint, i realize this, but it happens in multiple games. (final fantasy 12 is a big one. YOU CAN'T HAVE A HUNDRED-FLOOR FINAL DUNGEON THAT YOU PAINSTAKINGLY CLIMB UP AND THEN HAVE NPCS SHOW UP AT THE TOP AS IF BY MAGIC.)

anyway, ff7 remake does this and i'd forgotten about it and i'm annoyed about it. how the FUCK did wedge get to domino's office? LITERALLY, HOW THE FUCK?

sigh. let's move on.

i left off at chapter 14 last time, which is where a bunch of sidequests open up. i skipped most of them in my first playthrough in pursuit of story, and frankly i'd probably do that again on a replay. i don't think these sidequests meaningfully add to the game or story. like cool, i get to fight a tonberry and a behemoth...? yay...? they weren't at all memorable otherwise.

chapter 14 is straight up filler. chapter 15 is semi-filler, but at least the best song in the game is there. (look up "the valkyrie," it's really fucking good.) chapter 16 gets back to the main plot, at least, but still has completely unnecessary shit like tifa's platforming section — which for some reason i remembered very clearly despite not remembering WHY there was platforming.

i took the elevator up shinra hq for once in my life (i always take the stairs in the original game, and did on my first playthrough of remake), so at least that was different.

i do still like domino being part of avalanche. i also quite like the scene with tseng and reno & rude kind of coping with what they did to sector 7. i continue to ship rufus/tseng even though i haven't gotten to the part with rufus yet. i do hope we get more rufus in rebirth, i find him very interesting.

sometimes this game makes wild deviations from the original game. and sometimes, in a plot choice that made very little sense in the original game, they stick to it 100%. so, it's up and down. (am i talking about The Bathroom Vent That Lets You Spy On The Bad Guys? yes.)

it's clear that aerith knows more about the plot than she's letting on, but i also don't really remember how the game ends other than some Wack Bullshit, so i guess we'll see where that goes.

i'm sad nanaki is a guest character in this one. at least i get to run around and play as nanaki in the next game.

i think that's it for now. i left off at the start of chapter 17 (which i recall is The Hojo Filler Section) so... sighs... gotta get that done i guess. i did buy the DLC since it was on sale, so i'll be playing that after i finish. i know weiss shows up, which is a fucking bizarre choice, but i know almost nothing else about the dlc, so i have that to look forward to.

i still have very mixed feelings on remake. we'll see if that changes. (it probably won't.)

also, i don't know how anyone can play this game and not feel like they only got a fraction of the story. seriously, play the original fucking game if you want to know what it's actually about.

[syrenscafe]

"Hey, look at me.." Kenzo cooed as he reached with his hand to touch his lover's face.

"I don't think I can keep my head up, haha.." Lesta replied, his voice becoming more and more faint by the second; this ending was not going to be smooth sailing.

As much as Lesta convinced him that it happened to many lives before, Kenzo couldn't come to terms with him -not even a year ago- where he was cheering him up after his dragging 6 month grieving period for his late mother.

And now, like the falling of the night and the rising of the day, he aches at the thought of having to say goodbye to his other half.

Kenzo couldn't help but notice the weak, pale face Lesta forced a smile with.

If grief over someone who wasn't even dead yet hadn't kicked in, he was sure he'd be able to disconnect Lesta from these stupid machines and run away with him, move to a new place and start all over again.

For Kenzo, it sounded so plausible in his head, until he realised that not even his lover could let him do it. It only took one glance at Lesta to realise; his long hair, his face, the suit he wore that Kenzo remembered Lesta swore he'd only wear at their wedding.

His favourite person was going to leave him in a dark world, alone with a void in his heart.

"Hey, mister handsome, look at me..." Lesta's fraction of a smirk caught Kenzo off guard, his voice seemed to only be wind pushing through his lips.

As Kenzo focused onto Lesta's gaze, he said, "I never thought I'd be able to get angry over this."

"Angry over what exactly?"

"Maybe... the fact that you seem so... unwavering in all of this; you're... you're my person, Lesta."

Kenzo felt his throat restrict on him, a tear trickling down his face; fighting the urge to break into hysterical sobs.

"Hey," Lesta's voice shot Kenzo's crying eyes open, he almost sounded normal, like there wasn't an ounce of weakness in it anymore; like the voice he'd have whenever they had an ongoing argument.

"There's no need to cry over me, Kenzo. Sure, you'd never see me again, you won't get to have dinner with me, watch movies 'til midnight or hear me brush my teeth early in the morning,.." Lesta sank into the chair a bit, the machines beginning to relax his muscles.

"But I'm gonna stand my guard and love you even if my name doesn't make it in the papers; I'll be dead, but my love for you lives on."

With that, Lesta's smile began to fade, his eyes losing their focus and as Kenzo anticipated this death, this painstakingly long transition, he mustered up a shaky smile.

"I love you."

The background muffled talk of nurses and doctors began, the machine too took on a subtle beeping.

"I love... you too, Kenzo."

Putting down ppl is so mean and unnecessary, it's funny that I hate my own world building concepts. Anyways,this is what it's usually like, having to be affiliated with someone whom isn't human; an anomaly.

Dividers by @cafekitsune

[readwing]

It has occurred to me that aside from off-handed tags, vague references, and the occasional poll result that I don’t really share-share stuff about me online.

So allow me to break that streak for a moment to gush about my job:

I am, without being too specific, a Fancy Data Accountant. Let me explain.

I am not a CPA and I did not go to school for this, but I did take a variety of loosely related classes when I was in college. These classes + the slow grind of being An Employee During the Recession + a general thirst for knowledge + good organizational skills = a solid understanding of business fundamentals and a willingness to learn Accounts Receivable (A/R) and Accounts Payable (A/P) without fucking it up.

If any of you younguns don’t know - A/R and A/P are positions that are always in desperate need of smart people willing to learn. If you add to this even a basic knowledge of General Ledger accounting then congratulations you are 95% more competent than most of the people currently doing that job. The reason for this being that for small businesses, it’s usually a filler job. It’s usually passed on to like, whoever seems to have the most time leftover to do it.

Receptionists and owner’s wives. Lots of times it’s those people. And lots of times, they do not want to being doing that job either.

And since accountants tend to want to actually make good money and pay off their degrees, they also do not want those jobs! They’re mostly decently paying jobs, higher than entry level for sure, but they’re not CPA-paying jobs.

So there ends up being a knowledge gap between the people who are inputting all the financial data and the actual accountants who really really would prefer it if the data was better organized. Accountant and Tax Prep people, in fact, tend to need this so much that they sometimes hire people to work for them internally who can help business owners pretty things up so the data is fucking usable.

Enter me.

So I bounce around for a bit doing my thing - which is Easy, it’s so Easy that the only challenge I get is coming into a Messed Up set of books and fixing it. But then at a certain point…they are fixed. So what now?

Well my what now was ‘you know, this business (that I was working for at the time) has a stupid amount of manual input data. Not only that, but the data that’s being input is only a fraction of what we could be using to analyze and make decisions, and that’s because the industry relies on third party software for its A/R but a completely different software for its A/P. Since the two don’t talk to each other, we’re stuck relying on truncated reports out of our A/R that are somehow both watered down and crowded with unnecessary noise. No bueno!’

So bored little me signed up for a free library class on coding. I’m kind of shit at it, but that’s okay because that was the first time in my life I actually understood what syntax was in programming.

By the end of the class what I realized was that while I was too lazy to ever properly code something, it didn’t matter. What I really needed to know was:

1) what raw data I had available from System A

2) what the simplest, bare minimum amount of functions / formulas I needed to manipulate that data-

3) -so that I could then package it and download it into System B, preferably with minimal typing!

So that’s what I did. That was my new challenge. When I had a free moment at work - and boy did I find lots of those - I would play around with my little spreadsheets and these clunky programs. There needed to be checks and balances, you see. Whatever the output numbers said had to equal the new input numbers, or the accounting would be off. If Karen down the hall accidentally fat-thumbed in a new product or department, I needed it to 1) not break the formulas, and 2) be easily identified as an anomaly. Whatever happened between export/import needed to be cleaned, checked, and verified for the integrity of both systems.

So that’s what I built. Between doing my job and browsing Reddit at work. I built this whole system that would take this very boring part of my job and make it easy.

And yeah the place I worked for sucked, and I had plenty of issues happening personally, but this I was good at!

And the results kind of made me look like a god, which is always nice. And it got me a raise.

The pay bump was almost worth the mind-numbing boredom of the variety of other tasks I usually had to do to get to the fun bit. Almost.

Then last year in a moment of fed-up-ness I applied for a slew of jobs. Just slinging rezzies into the void on Indeed like a pizza maker flinging ‘za. Mostly for the same positions, just with better perks and pay. I wasn’t hoping for much. One of them called me back. Scheduled an interview. Did the interview. The next morning I had a job offer.

Y’all. I lucked in so fucking hard.

Not only were their books a mess, not only were they running a separate A/R and A/P system PLUS ANOTHER TWO INDUSTRY-SPECIFIC SOFTWARES, but they were actually excited to hear my ideas on how to fix it.

(And they were fucking soluble as all get out, which was a first for me.)

They were so excited, in fact, that it’s gone from being maybe 15% of my job to being about 80-90% of my job to just slowly fix and maintain everything they’ve got going on. Why the investment on their side? Because they’re looking to enter a potential partnership with X-number of other companies, all of whom have messy books that I could potentially end up fixing. Also the company has just started to open up a new location. Also the main owners are looking to start X-number of ancillary companies spinning out of the current one. All of these companies, of course, will have slews of data that need analyzed, with multiple Point-of-Sales systems that need to talk to each other, and good gosh golly, they know just the kind of person who likes to do that kind of shit now don’t they?

Then there’s little old me, sitting at my computer with my chunky spreadsheets and my limited amount of Visual Basic, somehow producing goddamn magic. Because programmers don’t understand generally accepted accounting practices, and accountants care even less about best data practices and management.

I have somehow waded through mires of bad decisions and late stage capitalism to find myself an oasis. I feel like I have somehow tricked the people around me into paying me good money to let me have fun at work. This in spite of the fact that I know that no one can do or even wants my job. Even AI can’t touch me, because that would require the robot be capable of standing up and asking a room full of otherwise intelligent people ‘what the fuck is this? Why did you enter it this way. Yes, I know it was easier for you and yes it’s technically accurate but you are going to accidentally break the law if we leave it like this Kenneth’

I am a cog, yes; but I am a well-paid cog, who gets to learn and feel challenged and buy ridiculous toys for my cats and fund Patreons now. And books. And sushi. And paints. I even splurged on a gym membership.

And y’all - it’s nice. It’s really really nice. And I really hope it keeps going like this, ‘cause I’m really happy with how things are going.

[dankusner]

CONGRESS Republicans want proof of citizenship to vote

House GOP members boosting an election-year talking point

WASHINGTON — The U.S. House of Representatives on Wednesday was poised to vote on a proof-of-citizenship requirement for voter registration, a proposal Republicans have prioritized as an election-year talking point even as research shows noncitizens illegally registering and casting ballots in federal elections is exceptionally rare.

Even if it passes the GOP-controlled House, the legislation is unlikely to advance through the Democratic-led Senate.

The Biden administration also said it’s strongly opposed because it says safeguards already are in place to verify voter eligibility and enforce the law against noncitizens trying to cast ballots.

Still, the House vote will give Republicans an opportunity to bring attention to two of their central issues in the 2024 race — border and election security.

They also are using Democratic opposition to the bill as fuel for former President Donald Trump’s claims that Democrats have encouraged the surge of migrants so they can get them to register and vote, which would be illegal.

Noncitizens are not allowed to vote in federal elections, nor is it allowed for any statewide elections.

Republican House Speaker Mike Johnson, a key backer of the bill, said in a news conference earlier this week that the Democratic opposition means many Democrats “want illegals to participate in our federal elections; they want them to vote.”

During a speech Wednesday previewing the expected House debate, he called the vote a “generation-defining moment.”

“If just a small percentage, a fraction of a fraction of all those illegals that Joe Biden has brought in here to vote, if they do vote, it wouldn’t just change one race,” he said. “It might potentially change all of our races.”

On his Truth Social platform this week, Trump suggested that Democrats are pushing to give noncitizen migrants the right to vote and urged Republicans to pass the legislation — the Safeguard American Voter Eligibility Act — or “go home and cry yourself to sleep.”

The fixation on noncitizen voting is part of a broader and long-term Trump campaign strategy of casting doubt on the validity of an election should he lose, and he has consistently pushed that narrative during his campaign rallies this year.

Last month in Las Vegas, he told supporters, “The only way they can beat us is to cheat.”

It also is part of a wider Republican campaign strategy, with GOP lawmakers across the country passing state legislation and putting noncitizen voting measures on state ballots for November.

Democrats and voting rights advocates have said the legislation is unnecessary because it’s already a felony for noncitizens to register to vote in federal elections, punishable by fines, prison or deportation.

Mailing warns Texans to vote or they’ll be reported to Trump

I want to present to you what may be one of the worst campaign flyers from 2024.

That’s saying a lot because in this day and age the competition for below-the-belt political mailers is quite steep.

The Watchdog shares this because campaign literacy among voters and non-voters is a necessity.

Use to be a time, only a few years ago, when we dealt with exaggerations and half-truths. Now villains can simply make things up and get away with it.

With important elections several months away, the ability to discern accurate facts from false information is a skill many of us will need as we weigh candidates. Campaign literacy is a learned skill that takes practice.

That’s what happened here. But there are ways to check things out for yourself. The flyer

Jack Knowles, a retired school district business manager from North Richland Hills, sent me a copy of the mailer.

“I would really like to know who funded it,” he says.

So would I, and The Watchdog set out to learn.

But first let me share the contents. The front says “Election Notice” and “Urgent Voting Alert.”

It states, “We see you haven’t voted yet. Your voting record is public. Your neighbors are watching and will know if you miss this critical runoff election. … We will contact you after the election to make sure you voted!”

Here’s the second message: “Please Don’t Make Us Report You to President Trump! We are sending an official list of Republicans who fail to vote in the upcoming runoff to President Trump. … You can’t afford to have that on your record.”

Guess what?

Knowles had already voted.

Another utterly ridiculous and false campaign mailer arrived in the

Laughter then anger

Knowles told me, “I had to laugh when I first read it just because it is so ridiculous. Then I got mad thinking of some older or not so old folks who might take it seriously and feel threatened or intimidated by it.”

Knowles, in a terrific example of campaign literacy, researched the supposed sender — a group calling itself the America First Conservatives Election Department. He couldn’t find a trace of the group anywhere. The group did not register with the Texas Ethics Commission, and it’s also not listed on campaign finance websites like OpenSecrets.org.

Voter lists

Before I show you how I took the investigation a step farther, it’s best to show how voter lists are released.

In Texas, a list of voters during each day of early voting is publicly available.

Campaigns especially collect the lists to see who has and hasn’t voted.

There’s nothing wrong with a campaign worker coming up to you and saying, “I see you haven’t voted yet. Here are the remaining early voting days.”

But only a voter’s name is on the daily list, certainly not who she or he voted for.

What’s preposterous here is the notion that someone is going to turn you into former President Donald Trump — and that he has the time and interest to know if the Knowles family voted in a primary runoff.

Although the flyer warns, “President Trump will be very disappointed,” I don’t think he will.

James Tinley, general counsel of the Texas Ethics Commission, said if the mailer is deemed political advertising and it’s anonymous then the ethics commission would be the appropriate entity.

“We’d have civil jurisdiction. If it’s not political advertising then we wouldn’t have jurisdiction.”

He declined to say if anyone filed a complaint, something that’s confidential under law.

Is the flyer legal?

University of Houston political science professor Brandon Rottinghaus and I looked at the flyer for legality.

We found a loophole.

It may not be illegal. It doesn’t support or oppose a candidate or an issue, so it’s not considered political advertising which is more closely regulated under state law.

He said, “Without a clear disclosure and because the laws are a little vague, no one will be held accountable for this advertising.

“It’s a real challenge to monitor and police these kinds of mailers,” he continued. “There’s no organization that has the resources to do this kind of investigation.”

The Trump campaign did not offer a comment in time for publication.

Rottinghaus says the state ethics commission “has very little meat in terms of enforcing” state election rules.

Texas election code contains a “Campaign Fair Practices Act,” but it is voluntary and may not apply to anonymous flyers.

The Houston professor teaches a class on campaign management in which he trains members of both parties to run campaigns, He calls it “How to Run a Campaign 101.”

“I’m going to totally use this flyer as an example in my class as a great way to scare them,” he says. “Don’t do this.”

Brandon Rottinghaus is a University of Houston professor who specializes in Texas politics.

He grew up in Plano.

Another clue

I took the U.S. Postal Service bulk mail permit number on the flyer and searched on the web for “Austin Bulk Mail Permit 1318,” which is the postal mark on each mailer.

That led me to a non-profit organization that uses that postmark.

They, in turn, led me to the vendor that owns that permit,

Thomas Graphics Inc. of Austin.

On its website, the company boasts that it handled the campaign of President George W. Bush.

I left a message for them.

USPS spokeswoman Polly Gibbs told me that as far as USPS is concerned, the mail permit is not “being misused.”

Confused?

That’s the whole point of anonymous mailers.

Watchdog tip:

Don’t take campaign mailings at face value.

If a mailing doesn’t look right, do a web search on all possible information.

Lies, deception and misinformation are too easy to get away with.