#i miss my old provider in my old state even though i never liked living in that state

[voiceactresskurutta]

me: hi i need a good referral to some sort of mental health specialist to get proper diagnoses for these specific potential issues. i've put this off for a long time because i have a hard time making decisions, struggle with communication/contacting professionals, and have a hard time trusting medical personnel without a good reference my pcp: here's a list of several dozen providers i printed out that include a lot of ones you don't quality for and don't specialize in what you asked about, it's just a massive print out of all our resources me: wow this is worthless to me

[explode-this]

Just glimpsed the cover of People magazine (I can read it free with kindle unlimited, sometimes I like to see what entertainment the old folks and straights are into, don’t @ me) and it’s Prince Harry with an inset picture of King Chuck and the headline The Real Reason They’re No Longer Speaking. It really sums up the sincere readership as the kind of folks that write advice column letters asking why their ungrateful adult children (and most of their peers’ adult children) have gone no-contact, as though it’s a trend and something their offspring do to spite them that has absolutely nothing to do with them and their parenting in any way, shape or form.

[angelicsjn]

I was the one that submitted the form and it had Hayden as my favourite with the passing comment that I made mad money just so he can have his career.

I know in the Domestic Life ask, he fears settling down due to the fact that he'd need to give up his photography for something more stable. But ha! Sike! His darling makes 6+ figures and is willing to support him fully. The cutie is gonna get the house husband treatment but hey, he gets to pursue photography with a big safety net. If anything, his photography profits is their play money for vacations and getting pampered together.

So, how would Hayden react to that? Would he enjoy it and settle down sooner?

- ✨ Anon

HAYDEN WEST.

A N: I love this so much. When I read your answer, something lit up inside of me. This is so real. Honestly, the dynamic sort of reminds me of Levi and William on tiktok. Their relationship are my actual goals... ps. If you see any typos and mistakes, no, you didn't. Look away, it never existed.

A B O U T: Hayden is apprehensive about settling down, but you have funds to do so. How does he feel about it? Read to find out.

W A R N I N G S: None. Other than Hayden being a sweetheart.

As stated in an old post, Hayden's only setback in settling down is his career path, and he knows that it's not sustainable in the long run.

Hayden isn't the type to sacrifice his passions to make life comfortable; his passions are his life. He would be nothing without them.

But he knows that at some point he will have to decide on what path he will take because he doesn't only have to pay for himself now, he also has you in his life.

But! Maybe there's another solution...?

Hayden's obsession with you grew in a short space of time, he went from watching you; hoping that you'd look his way one day to sleeping in your bed feeling more loved than he has ever been loved before. He takes care of you, you take care of him and even though you don't know about all the things he's done behind the scenes, you know how deeply he loves you. He just has a way of knowing you, understanding you like no other.

One thing that he never found out was how much money you had in your bank. Really, Hayden doesn't care much for that kind of thing. Whilst stalking you, he never pressed much attention into what jobs you did, where your money came from and how much you had; money is just a thing to survive to him. He wanted to know the silly and deep things about you.

He never questioned it either due to the fact that you live humbly — sure, more well off than him, but that wouldn't be hard, Hayden didn't grow up in the best of areas. To him a home cooked meal each day is a privilege and reward, so he knew you were rich in sense of. But not in the way you actually are.

When the conversation of moving in together comes up he sort of freezes. He didn't see how you'd both survive. Besides his general insecurities of you growing out of love for him — he saw how his parents were growing up — he was also shitting bricks over how to get a place and keep it without sacrificing everything and living unhappily.

A huge part of him felt that insecurity riddle it's way into his system over the fact that he, a man, can't provide. That's his job... right? How can he be considered a good man. A good boyfriend. If he can't even look after you?

But you were adamant. You knew he was the one, you've never felt so seen by someone before. He understands you, respects you, loves you for who you are. And that's when the conversation comes up...

"We can do this, Hayden." You said, watching him as his eyes scan across the screen. He was gobsmacked. How the fuck did he miss this? After all that time watching you he missed out the fact that you're loaded, maybe you landed the job yourself. Maybe it's a family thing. Who knows. He didn't know if he was meant to be impressed with you. Or pissed off that you didn't tell him. Or pissed off with himself for missing out such a big detail in your life. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I just wanted to be seen for more than what I can offer." You finished, and he understood — not from personal experience. But he got it.

"I know." He mumbled, pushing the laptop away. "I understand, it's okay. I'd have done the same." Hayden meant it, you could tell as he flashed his usual lopsidedely shy smile, his eyes soft and warm. He took your hand and pressed a kiss against your knuckles. "But I want to help out."

You knew how he felt, it was clear as he looked away. He felt small. It wasn't a secret that you lead the relationship, it was natural. The pants fit you better and you both prefer it that way. But you understood how he felt in that moment, what can he give back when he doesn't have much to give.

"Focus on your studies. Continue with your photography and make a business out of it." You said, squeezing his hand in yours. "If you want, you can help out around the house, keep your part time job, I don't know. Anything. It's fine."

Hayden needed some time to think about it, let it roll around in his head until he finally made his decision...

Ultimately, you both knew what would work best. So you tested it out.

Pushing aside his initial insecurities, he realised that the dynamic between you both worked perfectly and if anything you had both never been closer.

Half a year later you're both happy and thriving. The house is beautiful and Hayden even has the space for his own room thats dedicated to his interests and photography, with the saved up money he's gained, thanks to you for being the main provider, he was able to set his business up more professionally and buy better equipment! He's able to turn his dream into a job and he's so grateful and happy for that.

The two of you live happily in your own bubble, Hayden being the homebody that he is, he thrives in his peace and space, even better when you're home with him. He's picked up on new hobbies in the meanwhile, mainly things to make the house a home.

From DIY to crochet, he's making things for the house left right and center and the place feels so cosy and happy.

"I noticed the new pillow covers." You said, something he obviously made, and it looks cute. "Thanks. I'm doing a selection for the different seasons." He shrugged, eating the meal he cooked for you both not long ago.

He cooked you your favourite meal, something he's always cooked for you. You enjoyed it, especially after a hard day at work.

Later that night you would watch movies together in the comfort of your living room, cuddling and eating snacks before accidentally falling asleep.

At first he was hesitant, he didn't want to feel like he wasn't giving you anything back. But in reality he had given you so much more than the both of you realised. Due to you being so busy making the money, he made the house a home and gave you a reason to love going back home to feel loved and secure.

[utilitycaster]

VERY glad that Evontra’vir said “the titans are dead” because like there are currently living beings that will suffer if Ludinus’s plan succeeds and they just don’t seem to matter compared to titans that died a millennia ago??? (After trying to wipe out mortals themselves)

Hey anon,

Agreed. The thing about the titans coming up is that it does, actually, make a lot of sense for the two characters who have been most vocal about it - Ashton and Laudna - to feel this way! But it doesn't come from a rational place; it comes from profound trauma and loss about which they can't be objective.

Taliesin talked about this on 4-Sided Dive: Ashton is grabbing on desperately to the one piece of information they know now about their missing childhood and is "leaning into it...probably before he should." We know this about them; Ashton's been emblazoning themself with the Hishari and Dunamancy symbols without having a single clue what they were. The titans are part of that. Did you notice how he keeps saying "things are changing" and didn't actually like...provide any meaningful information? Again to quote 4SD: "...there's not a lot of judgment happening about whether or not that's a good thing or not, and what it actually means." Like, I think that, based on Ashton's past position of "don't kill everyone for your goals, that is shitty" if they did stop, and process, and set aside that strong emotional factor that's in play (which is not something I'd expect them to be able to do easily!) They'd realize that the titans returning, were that possible, would be cataclysmic. But that's not what they're thinking about right now. I think Evontra'vir bluntly stating that the titans are dead was a needed splash of cold water on that line of thinking.

My thought re: Laudna is that it's slightly more metaphorical. Consider her backstory: a conquering force swept in and destroyed most of what had been there before. She is a relic both of that earlier time and of that conquering force, and the subjugation she experienced never truly stopped, even though Whitestone has moved on. Of course she'd see herself in the titans in the telling of stories about the titans! People like Percy get to return and revitalize and build a new family and grow old and happy and die, despite their trauma, and she's caught between life and death forever. Of course she'd relate to some half-buried thing that people call monstrous and ancient and displaced! But that doesn't actually help her do anything about her situation and it's not a philosophy that really is useful in understanding the larger geopolitical (and, frankly, cosmic) reality happening right now, because, yeah, if you let the titans back, people will die.

For both these characters - who have spoken to each other about being physically altered and left for dead, alone, in ways no one else can quite understand, I think there's something immensely seductive about the idea of something older than the gods, something defeated but could rise again, which both is relatable to their own situations and comes neatly packaged with a reason why it didn't save you when you called out. But it's still a fantasy. It's not real, it's not going to happen, and so it's important that Evontra'vir, who as Jirana said, does not mince words, called it out for what it is. The titans are dead. Something of their essences does remain for you to use to make a choice. You are going to have to do this using your own judgment; you are doing the saving; stop worrying about the dead and start thinking about what you will do to serve the living.

I think an emerging theme of this campaign - and arguably a secondary theme of the past campaigns, and really, the theme of D&D if you think about it, is that the person you developed into because of your trauma, and the coping mechanisms and behaviors and presentation you developed as a result may eventually cease to serve you once you find a support network and begin to be given more and more agency within the world; and indeed, if you cling to these things they will begin to hurt those around you, and eventually you as well. I think "The Titans are dead" is one way to very, very bluntly and effectively communicate that.

[ironworked]

Eddie's journey

Eddie is the 10 year old whose father told him he needed to be the man of the house. He's the teenager whose girlfriend got pregnant and who felt pressured to marry partly because of the Church. He's a Mexican-American man, and culturally/lapsed Catholic. He's the young man who enlisted to provide for his family, even though he never wanted to be like his father. He's the husband who thinks they could've done better, who feels guilt for his wife leaving. He's the man who proposed again but got asked for a divorce, and who feels he wasn't enough. He's the widower who didn't get to fix things with his wife, whom he still thinks of as 'the love of [his] life'. He's the man who thinks he needs to be in control, who doesn't want to appear weak, who 'doesn't panic'. He's the son who's recently been patching things up with his father. He's the father who's recently let his kid down and misses him terribly.

Non-exhaustive list of quotes pulled from the show, with links to videos when youtube allows (full 'playlist'), arranged by broad themes:

MASCULINITY

It's under control. Don't worry. S: Every time we talk about money, you tell me not to worry. Guess what, I worry. (2.15) / Bobby: I just wanna make sure you don't think you have to lose everything before you can allow yourself to feel anything. E: No, Christopher needs me to be in control. [...] I wasn't there when he was a baby. Stayed away too long, and it broke his mother. Shannon ran away, and I couldn't stop her. I couldn't bring her back home. (3.08) / S: We'll just sell the house and the cars and I'll go back to work. Maybe only part-time but - E: No, no. Christopher is the priority right now. You should stay home with him. [...] I'm trying to provide for this family. That's the reason I enlisted in the first place. S: I don't need a provider. I need a partner. (3.15) / I don't remember you being around much when I was his age. Ramón: I was working. E: So was I. / Frank: You're a man who spends all of his time managing other people's pain [...] but not a lot of time facing your own. Can't put all your feelings in a box, Eddie. You might think if you're strong enough that it'll hold. But at some point, that box is gonna blow open. E: And take me with it. F: You and anyone else around you. (5.13) / [R] spent his whole life driving across the state. Living everywhere but under his own roof with his own family. ... Oh, uh, why don't you tell them about the time you pulled your ten-year-old son aside and told him it was time to step up? Be the man of the house? [...] R: I was providing for the family. E: Providing? Providing what money? - Okay R: Exactly. I had to do what I had to do. E: A family needs more than money. (6.17)

RELIGION

Turns out, I'm a Manchurian Catholic. I've just got a reservoir of Catholic guilt just lying dormant, waiting to be activated [...] What, you think I should go to confession? You think a priest is going to make me feel better about all this? [...] Bobby: Lapsed Catholic, still a Catholic. [...] That was a lot of the reason why we got married. The Church. She got pregnant and I think we both felt pressured into it. But I never regretted it, and even when things got really bad, there was always a part of me that I loved being married to her. (7.05) / Bobby: Eddie, I was going through some things, and I found this [prayer book]. Made me think of you. Just hang onto it, It might come in handy.

SHANNON

He loves having you around.[...] We both do. [...] I want this. Want to have a nice day on the beach with my son and his mother. ... Bobby: Were you ready the first time? Eddie: No. I knew I loved her, but I didn't think I was ready to get married. [...] I guess the question is, can I be a good husband? ... I knew Christopher missed you, but I I don't think I realized just how much I did, too. [...] We could have done better, we could have tried, I want us to be a family again. (2.17) / I loved your mom and I miss her, probably always will. (3.04) / I'm angry at a dead person and at myself because I forgave her for everything, and and it wasn't enough. I wasn't enough. (3.08) / I just want what I had when I met Shannon. It just happened. It was magic. Hen: Oh, so you believe in magic. E: I believe in chemistry. ... Bobby: Eddie, I know how hard this is. One thing you can't do is compare what you had with what you think you're gonna have. You just have to be open to whatever comes. (6.17)

(7.09 deleted scene)

CHRISTOPHER

E: Christopher. Is this Mom? Hey. Is that who you've been dreaming about? (3.04) / I wish I could forget. People go away. Not just Mom. Abuelita, Carla, my friends. They leave and then I miss them. I don't want to miss anyone else. (4.08) / Ravi: You must be Eddie's wife? C: Not yet. (5.02) / They just end up leaving anyway. Buck: Uh, why would you say that? C: My mom did. B: Uh, Chris, your mom died. C: Before that. She left us. We loved her, and she left anyway. I can't remember her voice anymore. (7.01)

(5.03) (6.18)

Dad, do you think she can hear us when we talk to her? E: Absolutely. That's why we come here. C: I wish I could hear her talk back. E: Me, too, bud. Me, too. ...

I'm sorry. I was thinking maybe we could watch it together in El Paso next weekend. I know. Yeah, I know. I know, it's last-minute, but I miss you guys, and I know Christopher does, too. Exactly. Why wait? Well, there's no better time than now. (6.15) / Chris, he's excited to see everyone, he misses them. (5.17)

I tried to talk about it with him and he ignored me the whole drive back. R: That part, that part sounds like us. The old Díaz family cold shoulder. Your Abuela originated it, but as I recall, you perfected it. [...] You had to grow up a lot faster than you should have. But that doesn't mean you can keep Christopher a kid forever. (6.04)

It just pisses me off. I mean, here's a kid who actually wants his dad in his life, and he doesn't even bother to show up? I miss him so much, Cap. I'm trying to respect his wishes, but we zoom a couple times a week, barely says a word to me. ... Sometimes a son just needs his father. Hell, a father needs his son. I speak from experience. ... But you're missing out on watching him grow up, on who he's becoming. ... I'm a dad who doesn't live under the same roof as his son. And it's my fault. And I hate it. (8.04) / Christopher doesn't want anything to do with Halloween, turns out. [...] Not like I was gonna be able to do it with him anyway. I just wish I knew last year was his last. (8.05)

That's the path behind him, so I don't think it's outrageous to expect that his future storyline(s) at least in short and mid term will involve unpacking at least some of that as well as whatever moves/decisions made to actively heal his relationship with Christopher and get him back.

Also, this is why Christopher felt the need for some space; it's not out of nowhere, and he isn't throwing a tantrum.

Some interesting posts: Eddie Díaz's tragic timeline; 2.17 vs 8.05 comparison gifset; about Ryan Guzmán's references in interviews (x, x, x); about Eddie's background/potential SLs based on it (x, x).

[nobodybetterlookatme]

Finally got my shit together and finished a WIP lmao. My sweet, sad little blorbo from my brain who lives rent free in my head 💙 He needs love and affection so badly but I simply refuse to give him any, he just gets to be miserable 😌

Anyway, medical content (set in a hospital), contagion risk, bit of mess but it's not descriptive, I absolutely did not read this over so yeah there's probably mistakes

Aditya was too much of a people pleaser for his own good, unable to bear the thought of letting his coworkers down, even when he absolutely needed to take the day off. He had come down with quite the cold, and was currently stumbling his way through a tedious 24 hour shift at the hospital. He would admittedly much rather be in bed at home with blankets piled on top of him, sniffling and sneezing into tissues provided by another person, perhaps sipping on some warm tea while they rubbed his back. But that was nothing more than a fruitless dream; it had been far longer than Aditya cared to think about since he'd had someone like that in his life, or at least someone who was readily available.

Even in his last relationship, he hadn’t been on the receiving end of care and affection, though Aditya so generously counted it as a time he had. He desperately missed having someone to go home to, someone to hold after a particularly exhausting day, someone to make food for. So far, it seemed that maybe that just wasn't in the stars for him. Besides, he reasoned, he was needed at the hospital, and it saved him from having to return to his empty house that felt less and less like a home everyday.

Going about his rounds was less than ideal; his head throbbed with congestion, and it took everything in him to hold back sneezes when he went in to see patients. Even entering notes into one of the rickety old computers seemed like such an arduous task, his head pounding and his eyes aching, further exacerbated by the fact that he'd so stupidly forgotten his reading glasses at home. He was normally so in his element in the ER, never overwhelmed by the fast pace of the department and the bustling people. Today, though, he was clearly in over his head.

Thick sniffles punctuated every sentence, as well as irritated coughs, and the persistent itch in his nose that just wouldn't go away. He tried wrinkling his nose, subtly rubbing at it, just trying to make the tingling sensation go away. Aditya figured he should consider himself lucky that he could even hold back any of his sneezes, though the consequence was being unable to get any sort of relief. His nose kept running, and he was constantly having to wipe it with a tissue or the back of his wrist. He was a sorry sight; hitching breath and watery eyes, a curled finger pressed beneath his nose in an effort to keep himself from sneezing. He was trying desperately to not appear too symptomatic in front of his patients and colleagues, though it was mostly in vain. The patients didn't seem to notice nor care about the state he was in, but the other hospital personnel definitely did, and he honestly didn't even want to know what they thought of him right now.

Never in his life had Aditya been so grateful for the veteran nurses and ER technicians, which was saying something, because he was always grateful for them. They all less than gently pushed him out of the patients' rooms and simply had him sign off on charts and treatments, much to his dismay. Talking to the patients was his favorite part of the job; patient care was the entire reason he'd gone through all of those hellish years of medical school, after all. Though, considering he could barely even hold a conversation without his voice cracking or his breath hitching every few words as he fought back the urge to sneeze, it was probably for the best that the other staff members were letting him do the bare minimum in terms of patient contact. Even just submitting referrals for patients was a nightmare, sniffling constantly and tightly pinching his nose between his thumb and forefinger to keep himself from sneezing. He looked so pathetic, eventually a couple of the nurses either took pity on him, or just wanted to be rid of his incessant sniffles for a while, and talked him into taking a break when things slowed down. Aditya was in absolutely no condition to argue, and simply offered a tired, grateful smile before pushing himself away from the computer.

He didn't even know if he wanted to head all the way over to the hospital staff break room, and opted to head to the first responder break room; it was much closer, and really, all he wanted to do was get off his feet for a bit. He pushed open the door, and sat heavily in one of the chairs, his entire body cold and aching. Logically, he knew he should’ve called out, but he just couldn’t bring himself to do it; the guilt would’ve killed him quicker than this cold was going to.

"H'aATSCHEW! Hah- hk'ESCHEW!" Aditya pitched forward, barely managing to pull a tissue from his pocket and cup it over his nose before a couple desperate, messy sneezes exploded out of him. He sniffled thickly, coughing a couple times as his nose itched terribly. "Hh'ESCHEEW! hAH'KESHEW! Hh- heh- hH- heh'ETSCHEWW! hh'aASCHEW! hk'ATSCHEW!" He let out a quiet, relieved moan; it felt so good to finally be able to allow himself to sneeze after barely managing to hold it back all day.

"Yikes, that doesn't sound too good."

Aditya's head snapped up at the sound of another voice, managing a small smile at the familiar face of the friendly firefighter paramedic. "Hey, Levi," he croaked, sniffling and rubbing his nose with the soggy tissue in his hand. "Yeah, I- I've definitely caught a cold…"

Levi hummed, pulling up a chair and sitting beside him, placing the back of her hand on his forehead. "Mm, you're a little warm, but not too bad. You sound awful, though," she told him, pulling her hand away again.

He wished her hand had stayed on his forehead for a bit longer, yearning for a tender, caring touch, though he didn’t dare voice it. "I feel awful," he muttered, blowing his nose and letting out a few more irritated coughs. "But we're understaffed, and I kinda have to be here, so…"

She rolled her eyes. "It's emergency medicine. We're always understaffed. Doesn't stop everyone else from calling out all the time," she told him. "You'd tell anyone else to go home."

"I know, I know," he sighed, sniffling again. Aditya didn’t have a good excuse for that. Sure, he could tell her that he wasn't everyone else, that that didn't apply to him, that he had to be there, but he knew Levi would rip him a new one if he said any of it out loud. "But I can still be of use here. And I'm only working a 24 this time, so it's not that bad."

"A 24, if you're lucky," she replied, giving him a sympathetic look.

Aditya nodded ruefully. "If I'm lucky," he echoed, sniffling again as he tried to keep his nose from running.

"Holy shit, man, is that your voice right now?" Another medic walked in, raising a brow at Aditya. "You sound like shit."

Aditya sighed, waving at him. "Nice to see you, too, Matthew," he muttered, coughing as quietly as he could into the tissue.

"Lay off, Parker," Levi hissed, shooting him a pointed look. "He's sick."

"Yeah, no shit," Matthew responded, choosing to sit on the table rather than opting for a chair, resting his elbows on his knees as he leaned closer to Aditya, looking the doctor up and down. "You got the plague or somethin'? What am I working with here?"

"Just a cold," Aditya assured him, sniffling again and rubbing his nose, trying and failing to stave off another sneeze. "H'ESHEW! hk'aATSCHEW! Hah- hh- hHH- h'ASCHEEW! hah'ETSCHEWW! hh'keESCHHEW!" He let out a quiet whine as he rubbed his red, swollen nose.

Matthew stared at him for a moment. "Goddamn. Alright, whatever you say," he muttered, shaking his head. Like Levi, he reached out to place his palm on Aditya's forehead, checking him for a fever. Unsatisfied with just that, Matthew pressed the backs of his fingers against his cheek. "Eh, you're not too feverish. You'll live."

Matthew's hand was calloused, but kind, his touch sweetly disarming to Aditya, who he couldn’t help but lean into his hand. He let his eyes slip shut, saying nothing, but feeling entirely too much. He wasn't entirely accustomed to any touch being so mercifully soft, and he couldn’t help but let out a sigh, allowing his body to relax a bit as he sucked in another sniffle.

Matthew froze in place, glancing over at Levi, who simply shrugged, and slightly nodded her head towards Aditya, silently urging him to continue on. With that, Matthew shifted his attention back to the sick doctor, gently rubbing his cheek with a finger, trying to comfort him, the stubble on Aditya's face a reminder that he'd need to shave himself soon.

Levi stood up to retrieve a box of tissues, then sat back down with it in her lap, offering a couple to Aditya. "Here. You look like you could use a whole lot more of these," she commented, giving him a lopsided smile.

He nodded, taking the tissues from her and managing a small, shy smile. Reluctantly, he leaned away from Matthew's touch, blowing his nose as quietly as he could, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment that all of the attention was on him. He coughed a few more times, desperately trying to keep his cold to himself, though he never was the best at containing his germs. His nose began twitching again, his breath hitching as he tried to fight back the urge to sneeze again, sniffling helplessly. "C-can I- hh- can I have an-nother ti- hiiH- hih’SCHEWW! hah'ETSCHEW! hk'ATSCHEW! h'aASCHHEEW!"

Levi couldn't manage to hand him a tissue in time, but was successfully able to grab a couple more tissues and cup them over his nose herself. If nothing else, at least being a paramedic meant her reflexes for catching other people's bodily fluids were razor sharp. The box of tissues had fallen off her lap when she'd jumped up, her free hand around his shoulders to provide gentle support as he pitched forward into her hand, the sneezes exploding out of him. "I got you," she murmured, rubbing his back soothingly.

Aditya sniffled miserably, his eyes squeezed tightly shut, not wanting to look at either of them after that display. "S-sorry…" he squeaked, coughing a few times into the tissues Levi still held for him, blushing heavily, wanting to reach up to take them from her, but being too mortified to move.

"It's fine, Adi. Really," she assured him, sliding her arm around him to give him a side hug and giving him a gentle squeeze. "We're all friends here."

Matthew nodded in agreement, reaching a hand out to affectionately ruffle Aditya's hair. "You want a coffee?" He asked, sliding himself off the table and walking towards the coffee maker in the break room. "It's what Hawkins and I came here for in the first place, so we're making some, anyway."

"Oh, yeah, I'll fucking die if I have to run another call before I can get any caffeine in my system," Levi replied, giving Aditya a wry smile. "Something warm might do you some good, though."

Aditya thought for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah, that's- yeah, please. That sounds really nice," he said, glancing up at Levi, then over to Matthew, his tired eyes filled with immense gratitude. He tried his best to swallow down a fit of coughs, but couldn't manage to hold them back, and ducked his head, coughing into his hand.

Levi patted his back as he coughed, frowning in concern. "I know damn well a cough this bad didn't start just now," she muttered, soothingly rubbing his back as his coughing died down. "How long have you been sick?"

"All day…" he admitted, his voice weak. "I woke up with a sore throat and a stuffy nose, and it's just been getting worse… I ha- haah- haven't been able to stop sn- snee- hh'ESCHEEW! heh'eESCHHEW! heh'ETSCHEW! hah'kESCHHEWW! ht'SCHEEW! hh- hhH- hH'aASCHEW!" Aditya groaned, leaning forward to rub his aching nose with his fingers, his sinuses throbbing with congestion.

She winced in sympathy, picking up the tissue box and wordlessly holding it out to him. "Have you taken anything for this yet?" She asked, tilting her head slightly.

Aditya shook his head, taking a few tissues and blowing his nose several times, trying fruitlessly to clear his blocked nose. "Everything that helps makes me tired," he replied, sniffling thickly. "And I can't afford to be any more tired than I already am."

Levi hummed. "At least get some cough drops or something," she murmured, setting the tissues on the table in front of him. "Or, like, some Vick's."

"Or ibuprofen," Matthew butted in, dividing the coffee he'd made into three to-go cups.

Levi looked over her shoulder at him, narrowing her eyes at him. "He's on escitalopram, stupid," she told him, sticking her tongue out at him.

Matthew rolled his eyes. "Just call it lexapro, you pretentious bitch," he shot back, sticking his tongue out in return.

She gave an eyeroll of her own. "I didn't suffer through pharmacology to not use actual drug names."

"And I didn't go into the fire service to have to use them."

"Sort of came with the medic license, though, didn't it?"

"So did the neck and shoulder pain. Doesn't mean I have to enjoy it."

Levi gave him a smug little smile. "So you admit that you have to use the proper terms, then? That it's not just optional for your dumb little firefighter brain?"

He snorted. "Shut the fuck up. We wear the same uniform." Matthew brought two of the cups back over to the table, setting one down and handing the other to Aditya with an easy smile. "A couple ibuprofen won't kill you, ya know."

Aditya held the cup in his hands, sniffling softly as he looked down at it. "I- I know that, but I just-" He sighed, taking a sip of the steaming beverage and grimacing; plain black coffee was always far too bitter for him, and it didn't help that it was the shitty break room coffee. "I just don't want to…"

Levi grabbed the cup Matthew had set on the table, attempting to gulp it all down in one go, but stopping immediately when the scalding liquid burned her tongue and damn near made her choke. She shook her head, then took a much slower sip as she looked over at Matthew, giving him a playful, knowing smirk. "He actually cares about his health. I know what a foreign concept that is to you, Parker."

He scoffed, and rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, whatever," he huffed, going back to grab the other cup of coffee for himself. He glanced over at Aditya as he brought the cup to his lips. "Acetaminophen, then?"

Aditya thought for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah, that's fine," he replied softly, feeling rather ashamed about the fact that he'd declined ibuprofen. He knew it worked better for him, he knew the chances of anything terrible happening were slim, but he just couldn’t bring himself to risk it. He barely even touched caffeine these days, as much as he could use it, too paranoid that something would go wrong. The coffee in his hands was an exception, he reasoned, and besides, it wasn't like he was even planning on drinking all of it. He took another sip, and sniffled again. "Sorry…"

Levi arched a brow. "What are you apologizing for?" She asked, sitting back down and swinging her legs a bit as she drank her coffee.

He was silent for a moment, trying to think of a response that wouldn't earn a lecture from the two firefighters. His breath hitched as he built up to another sneeze, saving him from having to answer. "hh- huhh- hHH- h'ASCHEEW! hah'ESCHEWW! hh'keESCHHEW! hk'aATSCHEW! h'ESCHEWW!" Aditya sneezed towards his lap, immediately beginning to cough once he'd finished, blood rushing to his already rosy cheeks as he fought for desperate little gasps of air between coughs.

"Fucking christ, man," Matthew muttered as he drank his coffee, looking at Aditya over the rim of the cup. "Don't keel over in here, of all places."

"Best place to do it, though, honestly," Levi replied, sighing as she gave Aditya a worried look. "Seriously, though, are you gonna be alright?"

He nodded. "I'll be fine," he whispered, not daring to speak louder lest he set off another coughing fit. "I know you guys have to get back to work."

"Yeah, unfortunately," Matthew grumbled, quickly gulping down the rest of his coffee and tossing the cup in the trash can. "I'll go grab some tylenol from the rig real quick. Oh, and we have hella pre-workout, if you need the extra energy boost."

Levi nodded. "Shit ton of flavors, too." She rolled her eyes playfully at Aditya's slightly horrified look. "Don't look at us like that. We've gotta survive those 3am calls somehow."

"That's- I'll manage without it," he replied, rubbing his nose with the back of his wrist.

"I'll just grab the pills, then," Matthew said, heading for the door.

"Parker!" Levi called, stopping him before he left. "They're in my-"

"I know where you keep them," he cut her off, continuing out the door and walking to the ambulance. He grabbed a couple pills from Levi's bag, then quickly brought them back, and offered them to the doctor, who quickly accepted them.

Aditya swallowed them down with a few more small sips of coffee, looking up to meet Matthew's eyes. "Thanks," he croaked, coughing a couple more times.

"Mhm, no problem. Just try not to die, will ya?" He said, giving him a grin. 

Levi shot Matthew a look, then gave Aditya a pat on the shoulder before checking her watch and standing up. "We should probably get going before dispatch loses their shit at us," she muttered, taking another sip of her coffee.

Matthew groaned, and tossed the keys to her, chuckling when she fumbled them and glared at him. "No way in hell am I driving again. You can do it for the next few hours," he said, stepping out of the break room before Levi could argue.

She huffed, though the smile on her face told him that she wasn't actually annoyed. She turned to look at Aditya one last time as she followed after Matthew. "We'll text you later," she told him, walking towards the door. "Maybe we can swing by your place once we clock out?"

That earned a genuine smile from Aditya, who nodded, his tired eyes brightening just a bit. "That'd be nice," he agreed, waving at them both as they walked out. His smile fell a bit as he watched the pair walk out together, Matthew laughing as he ruffled Levi's hair. For all their banter and playful bickering, it was clear that they really did care deeply about the other. Aditya didn’t know if he was jealous, or just lonely. He sighed, grabbing a couple handfuls of tissues and pocketing them, then grabbing one more to blow his nose into. He tossed the mostly untouched coffee and used tissues into the trash as he walked out, sniffling as he got back to work.

The poor man looked absolutely abysmal, his eyes watery and his nose red, taking in raspy breaths through his chapped lips. He was fortunate that none of the patients in the ER were critical, or needed a diagnosis or treatment that required much brain power. His job right now was just looking over the EKG results the techs ran, consulting with the nurses, checking in on patients and discussing treatment, and signing discharge papers, all of which was more than alright with him. It left him with more time to reconsider his life's choices.

His head was throbbing, and his sinuses felt like they were packed with concrete, and he was wondering why he'd even decided to work in a goddamn emergency department in the first place. It was miserable at best more than half the time, and truly, the nurses and ER techs did more for the patients than he ever did. Perhaps he would've been better off if he'd picked a different specialty; maybe cardiology, or even OB.

Or maybe he could've been a paramedic, had he wanted to stay in emergency medicine. The pay was much worse, but he could handle that if it meant he could still help people, and he'd always be working with a partner. Maybe even one he'd be close to, like Levi and Matthew were. The ER was a lonely place for him, despite the fact that he was constantly surrounded by a plethora of people, and the idea of working on an ambulance for hours with the same person to talk to and laugh with sounded awfully enticing, though he couldn't help but wonder if he was romanticizing it. And besides, he reasoned, it was too impersonal for him. The idea of picking someone up and handing them over to someone else to probably never see again didn't sit well with him at all. That, and his parents would’ve absolutely killed him had he even suggested a career in the medical field that was anything less than a doctor.

Another fit of deep, rattling coughs shook him from his thoughts. Adventitious breaths reverberated through his lungs, and he knew that he would undoubtedly hear the telltale sounds of rhonchi he was so used to hearing in his patients if he were to check. Tears stung at his eyes, though he managed to hold them back, albeit just barely. He groaned softly, shutting his eyes for just a moment and massaging his temples. Aditya cracked his eyes open again, and glanced at his watch, which told him that he was still on the clock for entirely too long. He thought for a moment about going home sick, but those thoughts were quickly dashed when one of the ER techs practically materialized in front of him, charts in hand.

"EKG from the patient in room 26," they said, handing it to Aditya. "Looks like a STEMI."

Fuck. So much for an easy rest of the day. He took the EKG, looking it over. Or, more accurately, squinting at it. On a good day without his reading glasses, it was a bit of a struggle to make out the thin lines of a cardiac rhythm, but he was sick, and gods, he couldn’t see shit, let alone make out an ST elevation. After a couple more seconds of struggling, he gave up, and decided to just trust the tech's judgment; they were rarely ever wrong, and they saw the patients for far longer and far more often than he did. "...I'll page cardio," he replied, immediately clearing his throat and coughing a couple more times when he realized just how awful he sounded. "Can you move the patient to the trauma bay?"

"Already on it." The tech took the EKG back, then turned around and walked off again.

Aditya tried desperately not to sneeze as he sent for one of the cardiologists on call, then headed for the trauma bay, his head foggy. It was already crowded with nurses and techs, bustling around and working with practiced ease. Aditya felt like he was playing the hardest game of jump rope, trying to figure out where to jump in and when. Normally, he was so good at figuring out where he was needed and what he was supposed to be doing, but the lights were so blindingly bright, and it was entirely too loud, and he felt like his head might split open.

Mercifully, the cardiologist arrived, taking a copy of the patient's EKG and looking it over once before handing it right back. "STEMI," he confirmed, already backing out of the trauma bay. "Bring her up to the cath lab when she's ready."

Aditya could work with that. He sniffled once more before pulling on a pair of gloves and placing himself at the patient's head as the nurses started IVs. "I need an intubation kit." He spoke as loud as he could manage, but it still wasn't much with how absolutely wrecked his throat felt. Nonetheless, it worked, and he was handed what was needed. He thought for a moment, then glanced over at one of the techs, blinking blearily at her for a moment as he struggled to form the words he wanted to say in his mind. "Um… did you- the patient, did- did anyone.. give her anything..?" He internally cringed at how bad that sounded, but he couldn’t think of a different way to ask in his current state.

She blinked at him, raising a brow in confusion. "...medication?" She asked, to which Aditya nodded. "Oh, yeah. Riley gave 5cc diazepam and 1cc midazolam IV a few minutes ago." She nodded her head towards one of the nurses.

Aditya nodded again. At least he knew that meant he was free to intubate, and he was certain he could manage to do that with practiced ease. Though, that was provided he didn't sneeze, which was a horrific thought, but one that was entirely likely. He sniffled thickly, and wrinkled his nose, trying to ward off the persistent tickle. He tilted the patient's head back and anchored it, then grabbed the blade, carefully inserting it into her mouth. Another sniffle, a squint to find the larynx, and he passed the tube through the trachea, breathing a sigh of relief when it went in smoothly.

He cleared his throat and swallowed, sniffling again as he removed his stethoscope from around his neck and checked the patient's breathing on both sides for a couple moments before giving the respiratory therapist a thumbs up and taking a step back, looping his stethoscope back around his neck. He watched the RT ventilate the patient for a moment, his gaze following the patient as one of the nurses and a tech helped wheel the patient out of the trauma bay and in the direction of the elevator.

He let out a soft sigh as the rest of the staff cleared the bay, then pulled off his gloves and threw them away. He held a hand beneath one of the hand sanitizer dispensers, and rubbed it into his hands, the strong scent of alcohol immediately hitting his already sensitive nose. Aditya's nostrils began flaring, his breath hitching, eyes tearing up as the urge to sneeze grew too overwhelming to ignore.

"Hh- hiiH- hhH- hHHH- hk'eESHEWW! hh'ESCHEW!" He sneezed desperately into his hand, coughing a few times and groaning, fishing another tissue from his pocket with his free hand and blowing his nose. He scrubbed at it with the tissue, wincing at the rough material scraping against his sore nose.

He felt like a walking biohazard, attempting to blow his nose one last time before tossing the soggy tissue into the trash and washing his hands. He felt awful exposing his coworkers to his cold, but at this point, it would be more trouble than it was worth to go home early. And besides, it was just a cold. He couldn’t justify going home over a stupid cold. He would simply have to finish up his shift, and hope that no big emergency happened so he wouldn't have to think and he could go home on time.

Luckily for him, the next few hours went by as smoothly as they could, and he clocked out and headed for his car. As he pulled out of the parking lot, he considered stopping somewhere to get food before heading home, but decided against it. He was exhausted, and didn't have much of an appetite, anyway. He tried to recall if he'd eaten at the hospital, but his brain was too foggy to remember if he'd allowed himself another break or stopped to grab a snack. It didn't matter, he decided, pulling into his driveway. He could always eat later.

Aditya was dead tired by the time he managed to drag himself into his house, practically falling through the door, but managing to keep himself upright. He briefly considered showering, figuring it might at least chase away some of his chills and relieve a bit of his congestion, but he decided against that, too; there was no way he could stay standing that much longer, and he didn't have the energy to run a bath.

"Hh- hhH- hiH- hh'keESCHHEW! h'ESCHEW! hhhH- huh'eETSCHEEW! hah'ETSCHEWW! hk'aATSCHEW!" Aditya let out several messy sneezes, sniffling miserably. He didn't bother covering his mouth; he was alone, anyway, and a quick glance at his watch reminded him that he would be for quite a while.

A bit of moisture clung to his eyelashes, which he tried to blink away, but the constant itch of his nose kept rewetting his eyes. He was absolutely miserable, curling up on the couch and clutching a pillow, close to tears as he held it tightly to his chest.

"h'ASCHEEW! hh'aASCHEWW! h'eESCHHEW! heh'ETSCHEW! ht'SCHEEW! hah'kESCHHEWW!" He could barely draw in a breath between sneezes, which he muffled into the pillow he held, sniffling and wiping his nose on it. Aditya let out a few painful coughs, groaning in agony at his aching throat and sore chest.

Everything hurt, and his limbs felt like lead. "hh'ESCHeww..!" He was too tired and breathless to even let out a satisfying sneeze, though it was still just as messy and productive as the rest, thick spray covering the pillow he was sneezing into.

Finally, the sob he'd been holding back choked its way out of his mouth, followed quickly by tears, like the first clap of thunder before the rain. His shoulders shook as he tried not to make a sound, having no reason to be silent, but having been conditioned to. His sniffles were the loudest thing about him, though the quiet whimpers coming from him were audible, as well.

Aditya coughed harshly, his body trembling. He wished more than anything that he wasn't alone, that someone would come through the door and help him, but like always, he was suffering alone and in silence. At best, Levi and Matthew would still be another few hours, and that was if they remembered he existed.

Truly, Aditya loved his friends, but their schedules tended to be less than predictable. And besides, it was stupid of him to expect them to come over right after they'd finished what he hoped was only a 48 hour shift. They both needed rest, too, and gods knew they deserved it, but the thought of being sick all by himself made him cry harder.

His cough was only getting worse, the fits much more frequent and intense now that he wasn't trying to hold them back. He was so tired, and his body was aching terribly. Aditya couldn't bring himself to move at all, not wanting to worsen the dull throb of congestion in his head. He was so cold, but couldn't muster the strength to even pull the blanket that was draped over the couch over his trembling body, trying to think of the last time he had felt so unwell, and what he had done then.

"hahH'ESCHHEW! hhk'eETSCHEWW! Hh- hhh- hHH- hh'kECHEWW! h'SCHHHEWW! h'ASCHEEW! hh'aASCHEWW! hah'ETSCHEWW!" His sneezes were constant, but no amount of them could satiate the itch in his nose. He sniffled, resorting to breathing through his mouth, which only irritated his throat more.

With a groan of discomfort, Aditya shut his eyes, trying to fall asleep before he started sneezing or coughing again. He held the pillow tighter, trying to imagine that he wasn't all alone, though he knew he was. Still, it couldn't hurt to just pretend for a while. He buried his face into the pillow, letting it absorb both his snot and his tears as he managed to doze off into a light, fitful sleep, too exhausted to do anything other than try to sleep. He could only hope that he would have the energy to at least attempt to take care of himself when he woke up.

[ruvviks]

bones please spare some isaac facts...tell me about the vibes and lore and everything you want. also what's his fave blood type to drink if he has one perhaps..(i'm taking notes)

HEHEHE THANK YOU SM i have so much to say about this man. but also he hasn't existed for very long in my brain yet so there's still many things missing from his lore currently. but here is a start for you :^)

isaac is a couple centuries old by now and from a (currently unnamed) bloodline that's a bit different from other bloodlines. all vampires have double fangs, their puncture fangs which are the regular ones they use to draw blood with, and their venomous fangs, which only come out when they want to change someone. for isaac's bloodline, the venomous fangs are a lot smaller which makes them less painful to extend and the process is quicker; but at the same time, even the smallest mistake in dosage could kill a victim rather than change them. this is why his bloodline is very small in comparison to others and changing a human into a vampire is always done in a big ritual rather than on impulse, to make sure they get the right dosage. this is how isaac was turned into a vampire :(

his bloodline is also more likely to have their feral sense (uncontrollable mode in which they hunt for blood until they're no longer feral) activated which is why they have to feed regularly and CANNOT miss any meals unlike other bloodlines who can usually miss a meal or two. their feral sense can sneak up on them without a warning and it will cause them to go feral until either their hunger or their "urge" (something vamps get sometimes when they want to change other humans. it's like a vampire ovulation) is sated. this is why many vampires of isaac's bloodline are pretty rich or important people who have other vampires working for them to provide them with enough blood so they'll never go feral by accident

isaac is VERY different from his bloodline though. he grew up in a modest family somewhere in the east of the united states and after he was turned he hid himself away in an old abandoned chapel for many many years, feeding on wildlife and the occasional unfortunate soul who wandered too far into the woods. he ended up hunted down by heavenly, my other oc for this story, who is a vampire hunter but at that point was still very young and on his first ever vampire hunt without his father; heavenly was unable to kill isaac and let him go, after which isaac moved to jericho :]

jericho is a big city on the west coast of the united states and it's essentially a vampire hub, in the sense that the government knows about the existence of vampires but isn't telling the general public but the general public tends to also know about the existence of vampires but it's also not uncommon to come across people who've never heard of them. but at the same time it's also not a huge shock to find out that vampires exist. and in jericho there's many of them and it's like a safe haven for them. am i making sense here

anyway isaac runs a church in jericho now! it's less used as an actual church and more just a homeless shelter and general shelter and community center and food bank AND blood bank all in one, for humans and vampires alike, and he's a very important member of the community he lives in :^) he really wants to help people and improve lives despite the reputation of his bloodline

it's at the same time pretty dangerous for him to be in such a lively place because if he misses a meal even once he could go on a murderous rampage. but it's a risk he's willing to take, knowing he's making a difference and not wanting people to lose their stability in life because he decides to leave or something like that

i don't have much for the story yet but the idea is that heavenly shows up in jericho give or take 2-3 decades after first meeting isaac and they reunite :^) heavenly ends up helping isaac with the blood shortage crisis and also ends up as his personal blood bag because he's a freak and a weirdo who likes getting his blood sucked by vampires. and also he's gay for isaac. and i get him. me too

[retlasute]

॰ In The Rich Man's World ॰

Word count: 4300

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Chapter 16 - Right Back Where We Started From

"You said that people won't use trains in the future, so is this the first time you're getting on one?'' That's what Johnny asked when you arrived at the station.  

"No.'' You answered, kindly. ''I've traveled to a few places that offered a train ride as part of the tour, so no. But this is the first time I've seen a machine this old... or should I say new?" 

''New, definitely. Unless the trains of your era are driverless and trackless.''  

''Haha! We have something similar, at least close to that. But no, we're not that evolved yet.''  

''Well, they sent a man to the moon in a way I've never imagined in my life. I think your era are quite evolved.''  

''Really? And what would you imagine it would be like to take someone to the moon?'' 

''Hm... by train.'' He said foolishly. "They would build tracks to the moon and then we'd know space.''  

You laughed, but not at him. It was simply interesting.  

"Ah, it makes sense in theory, doesn't it?'' You encouraged him. "It would take decades, sure, but the theory makes sense.'' 

You talked to Johnny for a while about the day, the station and the place you were going. He had mentioned that this train leads to the docks, so you figured that this was your destination, even though you didn't know exactly what they were going to do there or why they were going there. You were ready to ask Johnny this for what seemed like the tenth time, and ready to receive a vague and useless answer, but Gyro wasn't willing to go through this whole process again and hurried Johnny off so that they could get the horses ready and buy the tickets straight away.  

You sat on the station's balcony fence, dangerously close to the tracks, intently watching everything around you as you waited for Gyro and Johnny. Louise was standing with her forearms resting on the same fence, watching for the arrival of a train further away. The place wasn't as busy as you might have thought; only two other passengers seemed ready to take the train with you.   

Looking at the machinery and the simple infrastructure of the place, you knew exactly what you were doing. You'd been doing it ever since you left Tuckertown and you were still doing it as you felt the rumble of the tracks come to life under your feet. You were putting yourself to the test.  

You had been analyzing everything carefully, remembering and missing the comforts of your time. You thought of all the gadgets and inventions of modern daily life as you stood in front of their most primitive forms. Trains, planes, taxis, the toilets in stations, with their swirl of nasty blue-green disinfectant, making waste and germs disappear at the push of a button. Restaurants, all with their Health Department certificates hanging, guaranteeing at least a good chance of escaping food poisoning by eating there. You also remembered your own home, the ubiquitous buttons that provided water and light and heat and cooked food.  

The question was - would you get used to this new life? Would you be able to adapt well without all the conveniences, big or small, that you had been exposed to all your life? 

You had been asking yourself this question every time you smelled the horses, when you had to look for sources of water to fill the canteens, when you saw Johnny holding a dead rabbit in his hands, knowing that it would be dinner.  

But time made no difference, you thought. In 1976, you could drive across the state and find people living without many of these conveniences - abroad, there were whole countries where people lived reasonably happily and completely ignorant of electricity, just like now.  

No, conveniences and comforts were nothing more than that. Nothing essential, nothing you couldn't survive without.  

Not that the lack of conveniences was your only problem now. The past was the most dangerous terrain anyone could explore. Even the progress of so-called civilization was no guarantee of safety. "Modern" life was, at the very least, more terrifying than its older versions. Everyday life could be safer, but only if the individual chose very well where to go - and you chose very well, even if the streets of Deanwood or Anacostia were as dangerous as any alley a hundred years ago.  

You sighed and turned to see if Gyro and Johnny were ready. There was no point in speculating about impersonal things like disinfectants, buttons and rapists. The lack of running water was just a distraction. What mattered now was getting home, whatever the means.  

"They're taking their time.'' Louise said, absorbed. "It really takes that long?''  

''I don't know.'' You replied, not very interested in their performance in buying four train tickets.   

''What do you think they're going to do?'' 

''What do you mean?'' 

''When we get to wherever we're going. I don't think we'll have a plan if they don't tell us anything... but what about them? They seem to know what they're doing, but they don't want to tell us. What do you think it is?''  

''They said they were just going to visit an old friend. Could it be someone also interested in the corpse?'' You snorted, leaning languidly on the fence. ''That's the last thing we need, if we want to get the corpse back. From what Thom and those two said, the Steel Ball Run was a complete slaughter because of it. Dozens of mercenaries, archaeologists, runners and even the government looking for the corpse... If that dynamic comes back, we'll be in the worst place in this food chain.''  

''Shit, you're right... what now? What are we going to do? We can't stop them from involving more people and we can't just split up either, that would be stupid.''  

''Now we just have to hope that this friend of theirs isn't a threat.'' 

''Hmm... what if we pressure one of them to tell? How about Gyro?'' 

''Oh, no, please.''  

''Why?'' 

''It's a long story. But he's not the kind of guy we can just pressure or threaten, believe me.'' 

"Damn... but talking to Johnny is like talking to a wall, he never says anything useful.'' 

''Because he knows very well what can and can't be said. And I'm sure that Gyro is behind these determinations.''  

Louise stared straight ahead and then turned her head like a pigeon, saying nothing. Curious, you also looked back and understood her erratic behavior; Gyro and Johnny were returning with four tickets and a larger piece of paper that looked like a letter. You didn't really care to ask about it as you were contemplating the idea of pressing Gyro and convincing him to give you some useful information about this "old friend".   

You looked at Gyro. Even without considering his clothes, posture and tone of voice, he was terrifying. Simply unwavering. He wouldn't hesitate. He wouldn't be afraid. He wouldn't surrender. Talking to Gyro was like facing an oncoming train.  

That last thought, however, was due to the conveniently punctual arrival of the train you were waiting for.   

"What a delay.'' Louise said casually to Gyro, not sharing the same fear as you. ''What do you need to do to buy tickets? A tax declaration?''  

''What?'' Gyro asked, confused by the last words.  

''Nevermind. But why did it take so long?'' 

''Buying tickets doesn't take long.'' He said, in a calm tone. ''We were checking my mail, to see if I'd received anything while I was in Italy.''  

"But you were in Italy.'' You said, forgetting your fear for a moment. "Why would someone send letters to you here, and not to your country?'' 

Then he cracked a golden smile, as if he was waiting for someone to ask that question.   

''Well, you never know... some people don't know I've left the country. Some girls in love, who couldn't forget me, maybe.''  

"Oh... and did you receive any letters?'' You asked, nodding at the letter in Johnny's hand.  

''It's none of your business, bambina. I don't want to make you jealous.'' Hearing this, you frowned as Louise laughed. There was probably no letter for him. "This letter was sent to Johnny, let's read it on the train.'' 

The locomotive's steam rose with a loud, irritating and indescribably rustic sound. The travel trains of that time were, however, very similar to those of your era. Divisions in open cabins with two seats for four people and a low table in the center. The table, however, was only used to display ashtrays and rest books, as there was no staff offering coffee or tea. A mere convenience on a long trip. Imagining that there should be no tables or benches in the animal wagon, you wondered about the safety of the horses there - but were soon reassured to imagine that Gyro and Johnny would never leave their beloved horses in danger, so you wouldn't have to worry about Judas and Vegas.  

The train roared its departure as you sat in the same seat as Louise, leaving her with the privilege of being closest to the window. Johnny had already opened the letter while Gyro peered over his friend's shoulder. You leaned forward a little, ignoring all your basic scruples to show that you wanted to read the letter too. Johnny's face expressed nothing but polite attention, tilting the letter so that you could see it. 

It was a strange letter, as if it had taken days to write, with unfinished paragraphs and erratic pauses, written in a cursive and flowery handwriting, made even more illegible by the eccentrically formal spelling and the total lack of familiarity between sender and recipient. The paper was new and clean and the ink was vividly stuck. Legible or not, the date at the top of the sheet jumped out at you as if written in fire: October 2, 1892.  

Realizing that you weren't satisfied with just a glimpse of the document, Johnny tilted the sheet towards you.   

"Would you like to read it? You seem interested.''  

You would have tried hard not to look hesitant, but the sound of Gyro turning over a tin of assorted cookies on the table didn't allow you to have the most basic of reasonings, clouded in authentic vanilla. He interrupted your silence and you just nibbled on what had been offered; your stomach was turning too much for you to feel any appetite.  

After a quick apology for your slowness, Johnny took pity on your bad luck and situation for what seemed like the thirtieth time. Then he reclined, looked at her speculatively and asked:  

"Are you all right?''  

''Yes, yes... I'm fine. I'm just car sick... train sick.''  

Johnny nodded, not quite believing it, but pleased that so far you seemed rational, even if tormented.  

Being tormented is rational, he thought, catching another glimpse of your situation until you took the letter from his hand and began to read, without bothering with identification or the ceremony of reading it mentally first.  

''October 02, 1892  

Jojo,  

Well. After picking up the quill and writing the single word above, I sat in front of it, staring at it, until the candle had almost completely burned out, and I still don't know how to say it. It would be a regrettable waste of good beeswax to carry on like this and yet, if I blew out the candle and went back to bed, I would have overlooked the eminence of a catastrophe, as I did two years ago.  

Last night, 'Ecclesiastes' disappeared.''

''Ecclesiastes? That's the name of the project!'' Louise interrupted.  

"It was the most discreet way we could find to mention it in letters.'' Johnny explained, looking at you, waiting for you to finish reading. 

You, however, were paralyzed by an intense Déjà vu. You had read this letter before, you were sure of it, even though it was incomplete. However, you decided to keep it to yourself.  

''Ecclesiastes. Neither the wise nor the fool will be remembered forever.'' You said.  

"Both will be forgotten.'' Johnny added with a certain familiarity. "Yes, that's right. Is it familiar to you too, (Y/N)?''  

''More than I'd like.'' 

''One of the officials I had hired to check on the corpse in my absence - a man I trusted, who had taught me the lip-reading that allowed me to know about the president's plans - told me that the corpse wasn't there. I clearly didn't believe him, so I had to see for myself. And I can hardly describe my despair then and now, as I write this letter. I immediately went in search of a reliable investigator to take care of this matter for me.''

At this point, the text was interrupted, as if the sender had been called away to resolve some domestic issue. It was resumed, with another date, on the next page.

 

''October 3rd, 1892  

I dream about Dio from time to time...''

 

"What?'' Gyro exclaimed. "Screw Dio! Who did she hire?''  

''I'd like to know too.'' You muttered, coming to the conclusion that a good part of the letter you'd read a few months ago won't stand the test of time.  

"There may be a reason for that... Johnny said, the tips of his ears very red, but he didn't lift his eyes from the surface of the table.  

''I dream about Dio from time to time. These dreams often take apocalyptic forms, and I see him here, in my home, but every now and then I dream of you and your life in New Jersey, and then in Gyro among Italian royalty. If you are even alive (and I'm convinced that my heart would somehow know if you or Gyro were dead).''

"In her words, Naples sounds more beautiful than it really is.'' Gyro commented bitterly. Her? So it's a woman. Yes, you know that.  

''Unfortunately, Dio is the only person I'm sure is alive. Alive as the devil. He, of course, is my prime suspect. But how could I hire someone I trust to spy on a man like him? That's when I realized that, at the end of the day, we're back to the same name I started with, 'Jojo'.  

That thing, for agonizing hours, was part of my flesh and my spirit. It broke my bones, tore my flesh and destroyed my reason. You, better than anyone, know what that's like. I'm constantly forced to deal with Dio because of my husband's work - if the obligation to deal with Diego haunts my dreams, the obligation to deal with 'it' haunts my days, Johnny.''

You paused for a moment, swallowed and continued with a firm voice:  

''I've been writing letters all morning, arguing with myself. But now the reports have been made, they've already been recorded on this paper and they can't be neglected. I've thought of all the most renowned investigators in the country, but none of them would be as reliable and as committed to this as you are. 

I feel ashamed, humiliated. I've failed in my only duty and I'm forced to turn to the last person I'd want to see my failure. Not just turn, but beg. Begging for guidance, for help, because I feel as powerless as I did two years ago.  

However, I still feel blessed to have someone to turn to. I can't involve my husband in any more scandals, because he's still carrying the painful after-effects of the attack he suffered. Not knowing what happened to the damned terrorist is also something that haunts me every day, every night. I'm blessed but cursed, Jojo. I've lost count of how many things haunt me and how many of them I'm guilty of.   

Now I'm almost at the end of the sheet and I think it's too much to start another one.  

I ask you, Johnny Joestar, not only as the man who saved my life and that of my husband, but also as a great friend, to come visit us, the address is on the back of the letter. Our doors are always open and I would ask you to leave my husband unaware of the reasons for your visit.  

With love and gratitude, from your affectionate friend 

Your voice faltered, as if your glottis had closed immediately.

Lucy Pendleton Steel''

You remembered where you had read this letter. Along with the files that Lucy Steel, the renowned geomorphologist, had made about Devils Palm and other related research. It was an old letter, not very relevant, at least not to the extent that you could decipher things in it the first time you read it. You were more interested in reports, soil analysis and seismic activity. Any other documents that weren't purely technical, you dismissed.   

But that one was special. You remembered reading it before and felt something you'd never felt before in your life. A déjà vu, a despair, a helplessness, a hopelessness.   

"We seem to be thinking about a visit at the same time.'' Gyro said.   

"We were going to see her anyway, but at least now we know we're welcome.'' Johnny added.  

''Nyo-ho, it's going to be a surprise when she sees me, isn't it? The exquisite hero Gyro Zeppeli, in the flesh!'' He leaned closer to you to peek at the letter. ''She hasn't said anything else about me, (Y/N)?''  

You held the paper for a moment, then placed it on the table very carefully. You remained still, your head lowered, resting on your hand, so that they couldn't see your face. The last glimpse you had was of Louise and her eyebrows raised almost to the roots of her hair, as puzzled as you were. However, they could hear her breathing with a slight intake of breath from time to time.  

"Is everything all right, (Y/N)?'' Johnny asked.  

''Oh, God...'' Louise mumbled, a little lost, not knowing what to do. Then she motioned for you to stand up, putting her hand on your back. ''Yes, she's just... she must be sick, isn't you, (Y/N)?''   

You didn't answer and didn't resist when she pulled you up from the seat. 

''Come on. If you want to throw up, let it be in the window.'' She said. "You're as cold as a corpse.''  

"Please, Louise, if I hear that word one more time I'm going to die.'' 

Louise was elated by that letter and knew that your heart was also much more worried after reading it. At the same time, you were still extremely curious about the incident that Lucy Steel had begun to describe, about the disappearance of the corpse. Well, who stole it? You and Louise? But that was in 1976. A terrorist? Diego Brando? That would explain why you found the corpse outside the bunker a century later - but even so, how was it taken out of the bunker? -. What if it was some flaw in the fabric of space and time? Well, Louise wasn't as willing to waste neurons thinking about this last alternative as you are.   

She took you to the last window of the carriage, where Gyro and Johnny couldn't hear them, but watched them incessantly.   

"Could it be her?'' Louise asked, remembering all too well the stories you'd told her on the way to the Devil's Palm.   

"Yes.''  

''Are you... are you sure? Is this the right girl? She must be just a child now...''  

''Lucy Pendleton Steel, yes. Pendleton was... it's her maiden name. That can't be a coincidence, Louise...''  

''What else do we know about her?''  

''Pretty much everything. She mentioned that her husband suffered an murder attempt... well, yes. Thom told me that promoter Stephen Steel was shot by a terrorist during the Steel Ball Run. Those after-effects are going to kill him in a few years' time. And Lucy... well, she's still got two wars to watch.''  

''Shit... damn, (Y/N), that sucks.'' She muttered, frustrated and not knowing how to react to this information. ''Should we tell them?'' 

''And complicate things further? No... I wouldn't want some crazy person from the future telling me when and how my friend is going to die.'' 

"Maybe you're right...''  

It was cold, so early, but sweat was running down the side of your face and you wiped it away. It's the right girl, certainly the right girl...   

You shook your head violently. Even before you were an archaeologist, you were also a historian - or had been. You, more than anyone, should have known how inaccurate history really was. But there you were, swallowed up by the swirling mist of the morning, having your ill-fated destiny crossed by the right girl. Lucy Steel, the geomorphologist who died in Japan, who had witnessed both world wars, who had archived everything said about the corpse and the Devil's Palm.   

"Shit... your mind must be a mess.'' Louise said, leaning back against the train window as you stared at your own feet. ''I don't know what happened or what's going to happen, and I'm already going crazy. But you... you know more than you should, don't you?''  

''More than I wanted to. But the only thing I know is the essence of the facts.'' 

"Essence of the facts?'' 

The essence of the fact, you repeated in your mind. Kings are fools, cowards and drunkards, but they had one virtue: they believed. Whatever their goals, from the colonization of America to the liberation of Scotland, they believed, they tried and the outcome mattered little. That was all that would remain in them. The foolishness, incompetence, cowardice and vanity of men are things that don't stand the test of time, all that disappears and what remains are glories sought - earned or not.   

All that remains, apart from the rigidity of bones, is the essence of facts. The rest is stripped away by time.   

''Yes. I know all about Lucy Steel, but I don't know anything about her. I don't know what her voice sounds like, I don't know what her face must look like now, her favorite color or the way she dresses. What I do know are just the facts and the essence of them. The fact that she was widowed and died before the end of the war in Japan. The fact that she will become a geomorphologist, who will be mere research material for me in a century's time. I know a lot, but I also know very little, and that's scary.''  

"You must be angry with historians like Thomas, aren't you?'' Louise ventured. ''Most of them get it all wrong. A hundred years from now Gyro and Johnny will be just two forgotten terrorists, while that guy... Diego, the governor, right? He will certainly be remembered, even in the universities.''  

''That's what happens with all the politicians here. But no, I'm not angry with historians... not them. I used to be one. Our biggest crime is thinking we know what happened, when all we have is what time has chosen to leave. At university we are conditioned to believe that artifacts and documents tell stories.''  

You heard a faint snore beneath your feet. The train whistled for more passengers.   

"No...'' You looked out of the window, observing the outside. This was already the second station you'd stopped at, and there weren't a decent number of passengers boarding, that train was practically empty. ''It's the artists' fault. The writers, mainly. But I also give credit to singers and storytellers. They're the ones who take the past and recreate it to their liking. They're the ones who take a fool and return him as a hero, take a drunk and make him king.''  

"Writers are liars, then?'' Louise asked, and you shrugged. Despite the morning chill, you take off your coat; the dampness molds your cotton shirt, revealing the elegant curve of your shoulders.   

"Maybe.'' 

Liars? You wondered. Or sorcerers? Do they see the bones in the dust of the earth, see the essence of something that once existed and coat it with new flesh, so that the beast soils itself anew like a fabulous monster? No... that's something archaeologists like you do.   

"Hm... but are they wrong?'' Louise continued. The tracks shook as the train started moving again. ''I mean... we're doing exactly the same as they are. Alleviating the facts, distorting some things for the sake of whoever or whatever. When Lucy asks about her husband, are we going to tell the truth?''  

''And what makes you think she'd ask something?'' 

''Do you intend to hide our... situation from everyone? She's Lucy Steel, she... she knows about the corpse and the devil's palm as much as you do.''  

''She doesn't know. She's just a kid now. Let's keep things as they are.''  

''And how the hell are we going to get help, when only Gyro and Johnny know?'' 

"You still can't understand, Louise?'' You said. You were a little annoyed, but your voice didn't change. ''I don't know, you don't know. Nobody knows. But you can't tell me that we should go around shouting about who we are, there's no point. If we do that, we'll be killed or they'll treat us like official clairvoyants, don't you understand?''  

"I don't know!'' Louise said, having to raise her voice when the train whistle echoed and the tracks rumbled beneath her feet.  

Almost a whole minute passed with a resounding, deafening noise that held you immobile. Finally it passed and the thunderous roar faded into a lonely wail as the last station was swept out of sight.

"Ah... that's the bad thing, isn't it? We don't know.'' You said, turning your face to Gyro and Johnny, sitting in the same place as before. "But we have to act anyway.''  

Then you turned to her again, her face haggard with fatigue, her eyes shining in the light.   

"We're going home, Louise.'' You continued. "I promise.'' 

[sims-half-crazy]

Early Summer 1871

Gilbert couldn't wait to get back to Effie. He breezed through his finals and received his degree with honors in History. He'd secured a position at Mitchell, McKee & Alter in Roseburg, which was a bustling frontier town about a 3 day ride from Fort Wythe. Roseburg was said to have a magical charm about it. It was heavy into the lumber industry and where the town lay, several rivers converged. It made floating the logs downstream to the mills easier.

Upon arrival, Mrs. Gosnoll pulled him aside and asked if he'd look over some contracts she was thinking about signing. Although, she doubted the need for such things when it looked as if Mr. Ware was going to become her son-in-law.

"You should always have a contract. It protects the both of you," he stated as he took the sheaf of papers from her hands. The contract looked pretty standard and laid out in adequate sense the expectations of both parties. Handing them back to her, he stated that everything looked good.

"I hesitate to ask, but have you heard from you father? We've heard stories from time to time about him and, of course, there were your letters to Effie. He's not going to make trouble is he?"

"No, he's not. In fact, I don't even anticipate seeing him. I've rented rooms at the hotel, and if I can help it I'd like to avoid him. I'll miss seeing my brothers and sisters but I'm in contact with some of them so they understand."

"Now let's talk about this wedding..."

Days Later...

There was to be a double wedding! Both daughters were marrying their respective beaus and Lavinia was ecstatic that her girls were going to be taken care of. The only incident that occurred that could have cast a pall upon the whole joyous affair was when the living arrangements for Eugene and herself came up. Having just entered into the contract with Mr. Ware, it made sense that Lavinia would continue to live with Lauretta, but Lauretta did not want Eugene to live with them. Lavinia didn't like to speak ill of her children, but Lauretta never fully accepted Eugene. It wasn't his fault for how he was born and though she was kind to him; she did not want to assume responsibility for him. Lavinia couldn't exactly blame her, but the world thought that he was her child and not Effie's. Effie and Gilbert were more than eager to take their son and start their lives together, but the problem was that Eugene thought he was their brother.

The boy was almost 5 years old and he had only known Lavinia as his momma; Effie was the doting aunt. Effie suggested they still take the boy, under the guise of providing better schooling for him and he could be with them in the same capacity, as her brother. It wasn't ideal but it did mean Eugene would be with his parents, even if he didn't know it. When Effie settle down next to him to tell him, he seemed excited but Effie wondered if he really knew what was going to be occurring.

[renee-writer]

Call Me Josh Chapter 30

They wait, sitting in various places around the room. Rebecca rests against her mama. She understands, as much as she can, about her brother. That He was more then a man, that He came to provide salvation. Even knowing He is in heaven, John had told her, her mama and, James and Jude, about His ascension, she still misses Him. She prays this Comforter will help ease the bittersweet feeling she has.

James, her brother, is a different person. Seeing what happened with Joshua left him full of awe. He goes over and over the things He said that now make sense. Jude listens, trying to make sense of the astonishment of it all.

His disciples also wait, the remaining eleven and the others, Marta, Maria, Larry and the like. The Rabbis are making noises about making more arrest and, they found out that His cousin, John was also killed by them. The fear is real but, it is tempered by the amazement He left behind.

It is in this state that a sudden rushing, like the wind of a hurricane, fills the room. Flames of fire are carried in it. They land, over each of them, feeling them with the Living Wind, the Holy Spirit, the Comforter. Immediately, they all jump to their feet dancing around the room, shouting out in joy in all the languages known to men.

It happens that there is a major gathering of a sampling of all the Rabbis and holy men and women from around the world in Bethlehem Pennsylvania at the same time. Peter, full of the power of the Holy Spirit, throws open the window of room and leans out. Addressing those getting ready to hear from a speaker, he becomes bold as a lion.

“Men and women of our faith, we are not drunk as I know you are thinking, not on any type of alcohol, anyway.” They were wondering at that possibility after hearing the noise of their multiple language celebration. “Goodness, it is only nine in the morning and we are mainly minors besides. No, no drunk, just filled with His Spirit! It is fulfillment of the prophet Joel’s words.

In the last days,” God says,” I will pour My Spirit on every kind of people. Your sons will prophesy, also your daughters; your young men will see visions, your old men dream dreams. When the time comes, I’ll pour My Spirit on those who serve Me, men and women both, and they’ll prophecy. I’ll set wonder in the sky above and signs in the earth below. Blood and fire and billowing smoke, the sun turning black and the moon blood-red, before the Day of the Lord arrives, the Day tremendous and marvelous; and whoever calls out for help to Me, God, will be saved.”

My brothers and sisters in the Faith, Joshua, a man that God showed, through the miracles , wonders, and signs, those are common knowledge, This Joshua, following God’s plan, a plan He had in place from long ago, He was betrayed and hung on a tree, a cross, and died there. But, thanks be to God, He didn’t stay dead! Death was no match for Him! David, our song singer and long ago king, was also a prophet and saw this day.

He said, I have pinched my tent in the land of hope.

I know you’ll never dump me in Hades ;

I’ll never smell the stench of death.

You’ve got my feet on the life-path, with Your face shining sun-joy all around.”

Now we know he wasn’t speaking of himself, for he is long dead and buried. He saw though, his descendant, the promised Messiah. He saw Joshua, raised up and sitting on the right hand of God the Father. From there, he sent the promised Holy Spirit from His Father. There is no longer room for doubt. This Joshua, that you placed on a cross, God made Him Lord Messiah!”

Full of guilt that cuts to the quick, they ask him and the others, now gathered by the window also, “Brothers and sisters, what do we need to do?”

Peter replies, “Change your life. Turn to God, seek His forgiveness, be baptized, each of you, in the name of Christ. Receive the Holy Spirit. A promise given to you and your children, but also for those far away, anyone that God the Lord, invites.”

That very day, the Church, the Body of Christ, was started when three thousand were baptized. They committed themselves to the teaching of the apostles, to live a life together, the common meal, and prayers.

It still grows today, for all Christ Spirit calls.

The End

[blankfairy]

hello .. i know i just followed but i hope i am invited to the resident evil oc party 👀 i am going to yap under the cut. possible spoilers for my resident evil oc fics but at the same time i think i've already done that on this blog,

my MAIN original character, who i have had for just abought eight years now — though only within the last four years or so was converted for resident evil — is dr. finley "finn" bondevik, who has come SO far from where he once was. made worse, even. as a person of course.

finn is a trans man, born in 1972 in san francisco, the child of a wealthy, well-educated couple... and was slated to be taken by the umbrella corporation and integrated into the wesker project. he was kidnapped when he was just a few months old, but his mother and father put a TON of effort into publicizing his case to bring him back home. umbrella decided to use this as another facet of their experiment (and to polish up their public image) and supported finn's mother and father in their search. lo and behold, finn was 'found.'

as such umbrella has been with finn his ENTIRE life. they made a public thing out of their support, providing him with medical care, education, state-of-the-art prosthetics for his missing leg (congenital amputee), etc... he was clearly a prodigy from a young age and umbrella only uplifted him. they silently encouraged his poor habits when it became clear something was. not right about him (dissecting roadkill, cutting open his arm to 'see what was inside'). and when his mother died when he was eight (influenza) and his father blamed him for it, finn fell harder into the arms of the scientists who had loved and supported him so.

got his ph.d. at fifteen just like birkin, immediately hired by umbrella. of course. placed with a scientist named dr. o'deorain. she was. a poor influence. he picked up smoking from her. after a disagreement about a particular medication/virus/can't think of the word right now, he decided to inject himself in the arm he'd cut open when he was young, hoping it would repair the muscle/nerve damage. it did not. his arm was amputated. the right side of his face was permanently scarred. he blamed it on o'deorain and he never heard from her again. alex wesker saw him in the hospital and he came to see her as his sort of 'case worker.'

finn bounced around between mentors a bit because he's such a reckless, stubborn shithead but found his place with dr. william birkin! they hit it off and so for a few years he was at the arklay facility, then nest. also had a brief relationship with albert wesker, unfortunately for him. and met my partner's oc dimitri vikhrov who's ubcs!

worked on g's uses as a bioweapon at nest. created the g-hunters as well as the revenants. began an illicit relationship with william birkin in 1994, which would later become romantic. got insanely tired of working on g because it was being so difficult for him, while it seemed william was having so much luck,, felt bitter and used and stagnated because will wouldn't listen to his concerns/complaints. this started to come to a head in july 1998.

this period of time is what i'm writing a whole fanfic about but basically: the dichotomy of finn's loyalty to umbrella and his love for william. umbrella treating him as the next in a long line of betrayals: marcus, mentor to william, killed, his research given to will; william, mentor to finn... you know how it goes. their relationship falls apart as finn struggles between the company that raised him, that wants him to be the best he can be, and the man he loves so intensely it may as well just be obsession. in the end, william still ends up half dead. finn injects him with the g-virus, then devil. he lives. their relationship does not. and finn also gets his only good ankle ripped apart by a half-mutated licker.

uhhhh yap yap yap THEY EVENTUALLY DO COME BACK TOGETHER. they're both so awful that they really have no one else to turn to. raccoon trials, they get taken into the custody of simmons, william is a valuable resource for both the g-virus and information... sometime in 2006, after the raid on the spencer mansion, finn discovers he's part of project w and that WILLIAM KNEW (not the full extent. but still). he was supposed to infect him with the prototype virus in '98, but after finding out it was KILLING other subjects, decided not to. but finn has survived worse, hasn't he? they stay together, and finn, in his delusion that after that they can survive anything and should be together forever, steals william's blood and cultivates a version of the g-virus for himself. he infects himself. william is rightly aggrieved. finn doesn't understand. properly delusional!

i don't have a lot monumentally for him after that other than they STILL are together in the 'present,' because sunk cost fallacy and all that. finn aids in research after the dulvey incident. accompanies chris in romania and ends up just. having the worst time ever. but survives. what can you do, y'know?

oh! and sometime in the mid 2010's he finds out... he has a daughter.

that daughter is SAMSA WESKER, who is the biological child of him and albert wesker. there is a whole explanation to how tf he didn't know, but the gist is she was grown in a test tube. infected with the prototype virus in-vitro. successfully adapted and born february 19th, 1991. she was named by her aunt (who i headcanon to be albert's twin), alex, for the samsa family in kafka's metamorphosis.

she was a prodigy, just like her fathers. i like to compare her to an animal taught how to be human, because the t-virus really did fuck up her behavior. she was brought up in laboratories and high-class mansions, sitting at dinner tables with lord oswell spencer, sergei vladmir, and alex. proper manners. proper business. manipulation, perceptive listening skills, etc. still there's still smthn very not right about her and it's easy to see that.

in the early 2000's, after the fall of umbrella i think?? alex introduced her to her father, who took a quick liking to her because he saw her as an extension of himself rather than her own person. she knew this and associated with him anyways. she didn't love him, or anything; she doesn't love anything or anyone, but it was mutually beneficial. she grew up with him and alex, skirting back and forth and placating the dying lord spencer from time to time. i know she sparred a fuck ton with her dad. spent many formative years with alex on seim island and learned how to speak russian.

wesker infected her with uroboros at some point, i think maybe when she was 16-17 or so? because if the virus successfully took to her, infected with the t-virus, it would take to him, too, wouldn't it? we all saw what happened to him in re5 though, so... no. after wesker's death she lived full-time on seim island with alex. came to be known as 'alex wesker's attack dog,' because she was 6'2", muscled, and alex was fond of using her to infect/off anyone who she deemed deserving. for all of samsa's efforts to push alex away from the 'mind transfer' route of immortality, revelations 2 went about the same.

so, trapped on seim island with a bunch of mutated monsters, dying islanders, and her own aunt now freakishly changed into a vindictive, paranoid beast of impulse, samsa went a little crazy!! without a proper food source to keep up with the crazy fast metabolism the t-virus AND uroboros gave her, she became kind of. animalistic. did her best to keep her mind about her — she had a breakthrough about herself as an animal vs as a human, but still held her sanity in high regard. she was like the infected inhabitants who did not attack her, starving, acting on instinct... but she could still think. she was a monster, but not mindless.

then barry burton showed up. and remember that russian guy, dimitri, i mention? he was there too! samsa tried to fool them into thinking she was just an inhabitant (her russian wasn't sharp enough), then a scientist. but they could tell something was. VERY off about her. she proved them right when she used uroboros to save natalia-alex from an infected or something,, was taken into custody by the bsaa when they all got off the island.

i'm not entirely sure what her future holds for her at this moment but she is patient (we are waiting for resident evil 9 to be released). she has this intense curiosity about finn, much to his dismay, and spends a lot of time with the aforementioned dimitri. they have some fun parallels (her, nonhuman taught to be human; him, human taught to be nonhuman).

there's also me attempting to adapt an asoiaf oc to resident evil (who is finn's SON), who would have been created in a similar way to samsa, only instead somehow ... sold as an embryo to mother miranda ... and infected with the mold ... ? i'm not entirely sure yet but he's a ghostly boy who has haunting visions of the past and future and can possess humans and animals alike. could be fun as an addition to the lords. so desperate for attention and love, latching on to miranda... but he's not as 'gross' as moreau so she's like. damn. alright. i guess you can do some grunt work around my lab and keep an eye on the villagers for me.

if taken in by the bsaa post village, would probably end up manipulated by his half-sister like in asoiaf all the same. it's fine though. he's happy as long as he's being afforded attention in some way or another.

anywaysss that's it!! thank you for letting me yap... i need to think about my re girlies more because i just love them so much...

hello everyone im a curious little fella today, and today i want to see you all yap about your resident evil ocs. give me the LORE!!! give me the DESCRIPTIONS!!!! TELL ME EVERYTHING!!!!! i love hearing abt peoples ocs and i am an oc x canon enthusiast. go nuts, i will listen to every detail :3

[monriatitans]

Monria Titans

Disability Pride Month Edition: Let's Read Some $#!7 by Devon Price, Ph.D., Jenara Nerenberg, and Rick Green & Umesh Jain, Ph.D.

Welcome to another installment of Let’s Read Some $#!7! (LRS$)! In sum, the purpose of these videos is to introduce educational resources regarding the creation of video games, to promote literacy, to provide world-building tools for creatives, to provide books for the purposes of escapism, and/or to get banned books into people’s view. Today is the premier of the Disability Pride Month Edition, where I read PORTIONS of books pertinent to the disabled community.

It went like this: 1. Read the summary on the back of the book (if applicable). 2. Read the “About the Author” section (if applicable). 3. Read the “Forward”, “Preface”, “Acknowledgments”, and “Author’s Notes” (if applicable). 4. If there is no “Introduction,” read [part of] the first chapter.

If this is something you’re interested in, don’t forget to hit the “Subscribe” and/or “Follow” button!

Even though the purpose was education, I only read PORTIONS because of DMCA and Copyright.

Today, I read PORTIONS of 3 books:

Laziness Does Not Exist by Devon Price, Ph.D. We produce more value for our employers than any other generation of workers has. We consume more information in a single day than our great-grandparents did in weeks. Yet we feel lazier than ever. This is due to the “The Laziness Lie,” a centuries-old belief system that says our worth is determined by our productivity, our limitations are weaknesses, and no matter how much we do, it is never enough. In Laziness Does Not Exist, social psychologist Dr. Devon Price tracks how The Laziness Lie spread through the United States during the eras of slavery and industrialization and embedded itself into society. Price outlines how our culture’s hatred of laziness has poisoned almost every aspect of modern life—from work, to school, to our relationships, to our views regarding social problems such as drug addiction, homelessness, and COVID-19. Laziness Does Not Exist gives the reader tips and exercises to unlearn The Laziness Lie. Interviews with therapists and industrial-organizational experts provide practical advice on how to clarify your true values and learn to say ���no” without shame. Throughout, Price offers science-based reassurances that despite feelings of guilt and “laziness,” each of us is already doing more than enough.

Divergent Mind: Thriving in a World That Wasn’t Designed for You by Jenara Nerenberg A paradigm-shifting study of neurodivergent women—those with ADHD, autism, synesthesia, high sensitivity, and sensory processing disorder—exploring why these traits are overlooked and how society benefits from allowing their unique strengths to flourish As a Harvard- and Berkeley-educated writer, entrepreneur, and devoted mother, Jenara Nerenberg was shocked to discover that her “symptoms”—only ever labeled as anxiety—were considered autistic and ADHD. Nerenberg’s not alone. Between a flawed system that focuses on younger, male populations, and the fact that girls are conditioned from a young age to blend in, women often don’t learn about their neurological differences until they are adults, if at all. As a result, potentially millions live with undiagnosed neurological differences, obscured by anxiety and depression. Meanwhile, we all miss out on the gifts their neurodivergent minds have to offer. Sharing real stories from women with high sensitivity, ADHD, autism, misophonia, dyslexia, SPD, and more, Nerenberg explores how these brain variances present differently in women and describes practical changes in how we communicate, how we design our surroundings, and how we can better support divergent minds. When we allow our wide variety of brain makeups to flourish, we create a better tomorrow for us all.

ADD Stole My Car Keys by Rick Green & Umesh Jain, Ph.D. Do you suspect that you, or someone you know, has Attention-Deficit-Hyper-whatever-it’s-called? Y’know, the ADD that everyone keeps talking about? The one you figure is probably an excuse that slackers invented to cover up the fact that they are sloppy, lazy, forgetful and undisciplined? Or maybe you actually have an ADHD/ADD diagnosis and optimistically assume, “I’ve pretty much got it handled. Anyway, I’m too old to change. At this point, it’s just who I am.” Prepare to be surprised. ADD Stole My Car Keys will transform how you view yourself and ADD. Authors Rick Green and Dr. Umesh Jain, reveal 155 common signs, symptoms, behaviors and challenges that people with ADD face. Through entertaining first-person stories you’ll discover the many ways this misunderstood mindset sabotages the lives of adults. ADD looks different in adults. It’s easy to miss or dismiss. You may squirm, laugh, blush or gasp as you recognize yourself in these pages. Be warned: What you have always believed are your faults, failings and weaknesses may actually be the result of how your brain is wired. And there are ways to work with it. While Rick and Dr. J explore the complex interplay between nature & nurture, they also offer proven strategies you can use to master the challenges of your particular type of ADD, so that you can create a life that you love. Finally!

The links above are affiliate links.

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TIMESTAMPS 0:00 – Welcome! 2:06 – Read Aloud Prelude 3:30 – "Laziness Does Not Exist" 39:30 – "Divergent Mind" 1:05:05 – "ADD Stole My Car Keys" 1:20:14 – Commentary/Closing 1:22:28 – MonriaTitans’ Bookshop 1:22:49 – Farewell

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[fantasywriter19]

1. Melody Riddle and the Sorcerer's Stone Ch.3 Touring Hogwarts

The next time I had the clarity to really pay attention to my surroundings, I was in front of a large castle with many turrets and towers. I noticed after looking out at the sea right by the castle that it sat atop the high mountain. The late afternoon sky surprised me a bit, but then that was normal because of the time change.

I was going to have an interesting week, more or so, of jet lag.

My mind had glazed over the fact that I had just been on a plane full of other people wearing robes as odd as Professor Dumbledore’s. There had been a witch that consistently kicked the life out of her growling suitcase, a wizard with a small bag in his lap that he would peek in and talk to, and so many more strange occurrences. But even with everything there, all I had been able to think about was why I was on it with a man I knew nothing about.

To make matters even stranger than that, Professor Dumbledore had handed me a note written in mom’s handwriting with no more information than “This was for you to read on the way to London. Perhaps the remainder of the questions you seek to answer are in there.”

Reading it only provided more questions:

My dearest daughter,

There is much more I wish to tell you, but most of it must wait until you are old enough to understand what the significance of it is. I needed to rush you out the door to begin the process of deleting the existences of Orele and Melody Gray from the United States. I’ll begin with telling you about your real father, Tom Marvolo Riddle… Now you know where your middle name, Tomasina, came from.

I had to scowl, knowing she laughed when writing it. I hated my middle name with a passion, and I tried to ask her to change it repeatedly. She could’ve done something else with it, anything else that started with a ’T.’ However, I also had to worry… how far is deleting our existences going to go?:

I met Tom after I left Hogwarts and, well, fell in love with him. In some ways you are so much like him, though you’ve never known him. I can tell you a little more when we meet again, but the point of this letter is just to let you know to be proud of being Melody Riddle from now on. I want you to be able to carry your true name, just as I will take my name back. I want to give you another reminder to be good while you’re with Dumbledore, and wish you luck. I will miss you until I see you again. I love you Honey.

“I know you’re in awe, though you block your emotions.” Professor Dumbledore interrupted my train of thought with a blissful sigh as he started walking through the gate and up towards the castle looming before us.

I followed him, mentally admitting how right he was as I put aside thoughts of the letter in my pocket and continued to stare up at the castle in all its beauty. It would be the same for anyone else’s first time seeing a large, old castle. I could tell it must’ve been around for centuries, it was so majestic.

Once inside, he went through so many hallways and made so many turns that I almost wasn’t sure if I could ever find my way out on my own. I had some length of it memorized, but the rest was immediately made fruitless the moment the staircases switched around behind us. Eventually, my tired mind gave up.

Instead I let my thoughts wander as I followed him. I had lived my life under such circumstances that I believed I possessed a relatively normal one. Now that it wouldn’t be that way any longer, I couldn’t help wondering in what other ways everything was going to change. I could no longer think logically, because all of a sudden ‘Jim’ was not my father and my last name was going to be changed while my existence in the United States was going to be deleted.

Finally, we came up to a stone griffin where Professor Dumbledore stated, “Lemon drops.” The griffin moved out of the way, revealing itself to be a door, and we walked in. He gestured for me to sit down in front of the wide desk at the back of the… office?… and so I did.

The room was cluttered with so many strange objects. The first things that caught my eye were the portraits. I watched them move around and even go into the portrait next to them to talk to each other. Come on now, I knew things would be different, but nothing could prepare me for seeing the people in portraits move around like they were at a delightful tea party.

Everything was moving a little too fast for my brain to process properly.

“I see you’re taking an interest in the portraits.” Professor Dumbledore said, sitting behind his desk in his own chair.

“Why are they all there?” I asked, looking around and watching as they all suddenly took notice that I was in the room.

“They are the former headmasters and headmistresses of Hogwarts. They’ve long since perished, but their memories are allowed to live on through these portraits. I, and other future headmasters and headmistresses, can turn to them for guidance when needed.” Professor Dumbledore said. “Someday I will be on the wall.”

I nodded. Someday soon, I thought, or how old can a wizard grow to be?

Professor Dumbledore then popped another lemon drop into his mouth — about the hundredth one I’d seen him pop this whole trip from my mom, on the plane, and in this castle — before handing one out to me. “Want one?”

“No, thank you,” I said. “If I could just know where I’ll be staying, I’d appreciate it, sir. I need some time to… to process….” I waved my hands around, “all this.”

“You’ll be staying here at the castle. You may attempt to memorize the hallways before school starts. A small treat, so to speak. It’s a room that will only be for your use until your mother… finishes her errands,” Professor Dumbledore said.

“Er — okay. But where is my room?” I asked, hoping I could just stay there until everything made sense. Maybe then, I’d explore the castle. It was May, so I deduced that school must still be in session at Hogwarts as well. There had to be some students roaming the hallways in between classes that I could ask for a tour from. It’d be awkward, but mom did say I should attempt to make new friends. No one at Hogwarts that moment would be in my year, of course, but I’d at least have someone who knew the ropes.

“I can’t tell you,” Professor Dumbledore said with a smirk, making me feel slightly irritated at my plan for some solitude being foiled. “You have this afternoon to find it. When you find the room with the sign saying ‘Melody Riddle’ on it, you’ll know.”

How convenient, I thought, it’s got my name written on it. “You’re going to allow me to walk around the school unsupervised?” I asked critically. It didn’t seem like a very smart idea.

He nodded and then waved his arm in farewell. Apparently, there was nothing else to be done but to follow his direction.

I left the room, wondering what that was about. Yeah, right, tell the ten year old girl her father isn’t her true father, take her away, and then say ‘search the castle for your room.’ Despite all the inanities, I was admittedly curious about my real father. Who could he be?

I wandered around the castle for what felt like hours; but since I checked my watch every five seconds, it had only been thirty minutes. I was starting to memorize a few hallways when I found the dungeons. It was cold and creepy, but considering I normally slept in the basement back home… my old home, anyway… it was the perfect atmosphere.

The door I walked by creaked open, “What are you doing?” asked a smooth, cool voice. An emphasis was placed slowly, one after the next, on each word. It sounded like I should be in trouble.

I turned around to see a tall man with greasy black hair, a hooked nose, and sallow skin staring down at me. His body blocked the entryway, so I wouldn’t be able to see what was behind him even if I tried — however, I did hear soft clanging noises in the background.

The man’s black eyes searched my face and, weirdly enough, he tensed up. I also couldn’t help but sense a type of barrier separating him from me. Did he just block his mind from me? Are they all capable of doing that here?

“I was just.. taking a stroll around the castle, memorizing the routes and so forth.” I managed to say. “Professor — um — Professor Dumbledore told me to do so… to find my room.”

He inclined his head. “Carry on,” and then the door slammed shut in my face.

I stared at the door with slight disbelief, and then continued on the way I was walking. Who was he?

When I finally found my room, I saw Professor Dumbledore was right when he said there was a sign on it with green and blue letters. Of course he put it in the dungeons after seeing where my room was… then again, how did he know to put it down here when he’d only just made the trip to come get me?

I went in and saw my trunk sitting there — I’d forgotten all about it after getting on the plane. The only other things in the room were the plain bed I was to sleep in and a nightstand. That’s all I need, I suppose.

I unzipped my trunk and took out a few books. Picking a random science book, I read as far as the first chapter when there was a knock. Setting a bookmark within it, I quickly walked over to open the door.

Outside was that same hook-nosed man that I had seen before and, to be honest, he looked like he’d rather be doing anything but talking to me. “Professor Dumbledore would like to see you in the Great Hall for dinnertime.”

“Oh, um, thank you for the notice.” I said, walking out of the room and closing the door behind me. I saw a faint trace of surprise show on his face, but then it was completely blocked off. I could somehow sense that he was blocking his emotions like I usually did. Is it a normal magical ability?

I followed him through the hallways, and he generally acted like I wasn’t there. That was until I remembered I wasn’t sure who he was.

“Um, I’m sorry I don’t think I got your name.” I said timidly. He didn’t even falter in his steps as he walked.

“To you, I am Professor Snape. I already know who you are.”

Staring up at his sour expression, I wondered what he taught. He seemed very cold and hostile. Must not be a very likable teacher.

“Do all the professors know I’m here?” I asked quietly.

Professor Snape seemed to suddenly notice my smallness compared to him at that moment. He looked down at me for what seemed a millisecond, and then looked forward again. I somehow confused him, I could tell, but it’s not like I knew how he expected me to be. Or how it was that he had such assumptions.

In any case, he didn’t answer my question and I decided against prodding him.

Finally, through the tense silence, we reached a large room I guessed to be the Great Hall. There were long tables vertical to the door we entered, and I saw what appeared to be students having filled the tables up. All the way across the room was another table horizontal to the door, and I saw Professor Dumbledore and what appeared to be the other teachers dining all along it.

I looked around the room; no one noticed my entrance, which I was grateful for as I didn’t want to attract attention. Then I saw Dumbledore wave for me to come to him. I almost took no more notice of Professor Snape lagging behind me as I pushed forward.

When I reached the table, I looked around in surprise because no one seemed to have noticed my entrance. Is it a normal thing for someone they’d never seen before to just waltz in? Or are they just that distracted by their own conversations?

“I don’t think there’s any room for me here,” I said softly, hoping he wouldn’t just throw me somewhere around students that would have nothing but annoying questions to ask.

“Oh, I was wondering if you’d like to join me,” Professor Dumbledore said, watching me with twinkling eyes. “Not many students can say they personally ate with the headmaster.”

I had to fight the shiver that ran down my spine at the invitation. “I don’t mean to be rude and decline, but I think I’d rather just have my meals in my room… alone.”

“You don’t like the attention,” he deduced with an understanding nod.

It was then that I saw people started to notice me standing in front of him, and I put up a barrier in my head to keep my cheeks from burning. I quickly shook my head, clenching my fists as I attempted to keep myself from immediately speeding out. I did not need to hear mom tell me later that running out before the headmaster dismisses you is the rudest action I could’ve possibly made.

“You may go back to your room, then. There will be food in there waiting for you.” Professor Dumbledore said. He nodded toward the door, and when I turned around… every single student in the hall was staring directly at me.

I scurried out of there, feeling extremely awkward with everyone’s eyes on me.

Once I was out of the Great Hall, I tried to find my way back to the dungeons where my room was. Yet, with my nerves still on edge, it was hard to remember the way back and it only got worse the more twists and turns I came across. It was so much easier to get lost in this place, especially when the people in the paintings moved and staircases changed constantly.

Why did it seem so much simpler while I was following Professor Snape? I thought irritably. I don’t remember it being so difficult — and I know I was paying attention, too. I stopped mid step to say to myself, “How does anyone find their way around this place?”

“Talking to yourself?” asked two similar voices from behind me.

I spun around to see two red-headed boys smiling back at me, and though I was in surprise, I still had the three barriers built in my head— it was as many as I had ever dared to put up. Years of practice with kids always bullying others made it easy to hide my feelings, especially when they attempted extremely mean pranks. I felt like these two were no exception from the others.

“I was not aware that I was even being followed, so excuse me for thinking aloud,” I said, earning an ‘ooh’ from the twins, who smiled and actually laughed about it.

“We’ve never seen you around before. What House are you in?” one of them asked.

“House?” I asked, wondering what he meant. “This is my first day here.”

They gaped at me.

I suppose I should enlighten them a little more. “I apparently had to be here months early, because I don’t have anywhere to live in London while I wait for next school year. Professor Dumbledore just brought me here from the United States.”

“Oh,” one outburst, “I wondered what your accent was. I knew it was different!”

I shrugged, “Not much of an accent… but okay.”

“But why are you going here instead of Ilvermorny?”

“You’re very nosy, aren’t you?”

“Awe come on, you can trust us!” one put an arm around my shoulder while the other linked his arm through mine. “We’ll give you a personal tour around the school.”

“Maybe later, right now I’m just looking for my room,” I attempted to break free from their grips, but they held onto me tightly. Eventually I had to give up on the thought of fighting them. It wasn’t like I had a wand to break free of them when they had their own wands, and with however long they’d been in school they were already more advanced than I.

“Are we such bad company that you would try so hard to get away from us?” the one with his arm around me said, frowning to get the point across.

The other brother mirrored his frown, “We promise we’re not that bad… are we?”

“Well, when I don’t know the people holding on to me. It’s hard not to think of you as kidnappers,” I snarked.

They hooted with laughter.

“Come off it, you’ll be going to the same school as us. This way you can just get past being a stranger, and you get to know the school before anyone else does. Our little brother will be coming here next year, too, but you got to meet us before him.”

“This way you can see how much better we are before you meet him!”

The comment was so rude, I couldn’t help but laugh. Two mental barriers came tumbling down. “Aren’t you supposed to showcase how cool he is so that he does have friends, and doesn’t tag along with you everywhere?”

“Oh,” they said together, “that’s a good point.”

Idiots, I thought with a grin. That was when the third barrier dropped — they’re not so bad.

The twins joked around with me for a while, and eventually let go of me when I promised I wouldn’t run off. They asked me where my room was and, even though I told them, they didn’t lead me to where I needed to go. I followed without complaint, though. I had to admit to myself and to them that they were pretty fun to hang out with. I could tell mom, at least, that making friends could be crossed off the list even though they turned out to be two years older than me.

While they were showing me around, there was a point when dinner must’ve ended because the hallways filled up with sleepy students making their way to bed. The twins stuck close to me until the hallways emptied again.

“On top of all this fun, we don’t know one thing,” one began.

The other finished with, “We don’t know your name.”

“Melody,” I said, “Melody… um.. Riddle.”

“I’m Fred —”

“And I’m George —”

“Weasley!” the two chorused together.

I nodded distractedly, and then I put my hand to my mouth in an attempt to hold back a chuckle.

“What is this?” Professor Snape drawled from behind the two of them, “Staying out past curfew and not helping Miss Riddle find her room? Five points from Gryffindor each. I want you to lead Miss Riddle to her room and then I will assist you to your common room.”

What in the world is Gryffindor? Is that a House thing they mentioned earlier? I should’ve asked.…

The two looked half-crestfallen, but it wasn’t too bad because their grins came right back on their faces. “Yes, sir!” they said jokingly.

“And detention with me tomorrow afternoon.” Professor Snape added as they led the way to the dungeons, the professor right beside me.

“Thanks,” I mumbled to Professor Snape, who arched an eyebrow at me. “I wasn’t sure when they would finally get me to my room.” I figured it was best to get off on the right foot with someone who’s going to be my teacher, even if I admittedly had fun with the boys.

“They’re supposed to be in bed. It may not concern you now, but you should know it’s best to be ready to follow directions when they’re given,” Professor Snape sounded slightly menacing.

I gaped up at him. “I don’t know when the curfew is. I don’t even know what time it is right now. Are you blaming me for asking them to show me to my room, while they clearly decided not to?”

“Get them to,” Professor Snape replied coolly.

“They’ve got wands and I’ve got nothing. I can’t make them do anything if I don’t know what they are capable of doing to me.”

There was a faint surprise, I could sense, in Professor Snape. For what? I don’t know.

Finally, down in the dungeons I walked ahead, since it was easy to know where my room was from that point. Professor Snape and the twins followed suit.

I reached the door and opened it, walking inside. The twins peered in, and their mouths dropped open in horror.

“This is terrible,” one said to which the other added, “it needs a makeover.”

I laughed, but Professor Snape made it obvious that he did not find it funny. “This is her room for the next few months, like it or not she is stuck with it. Now go.”

The twins trudged along down the hall with him close behind. I closed the door and fell onto my bed, falling asleep instantly. I’d forgotten about the food, but I didn’t care. I was exhausted.

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[themacfag]

I truly feel as though I was left here as an afterthought. Truly an expenditure of a human against everyone else. I feel no more special then the trash on the street. The worthless ends of a cigarette on the asphalt street. I feel as though the modern cold world has left be behind in its ruthless ever evolving state, truly a cold icy monster that encompasses the enviable environment around me.

All I see is the brands that clad people like clans. Burberry, Versace, Gucci. Their alignment towards their maximalist capitalist gods like priests of their identity parading their religion of luxury. A vice of wealth surrounded me even through I was in the poverty stricken country, an oxymoron in the making. Unable to afford bread but able to manage a iPhone 14 Pro Max and a Louis Vuitton bag. In a way I am reminded by my home where anything above else face is kept above all else at all costs.

In my drunken rodeo I am forced to participate in the unwilling attendance of this mortuary of vice. Kept chained by the alcohol ridden drinks and the somewhat acceptable music. Being left alone felt as though I had never felt the touch of my mother, a caring caress that felt missing her inside of me. Alone at the table with everyone talking amongst themselves in a language I was only able to cusp because I had the misfortunate event of being born inside the confinements of the county. A county that disgusted me so much and filled me with a rage intelligible to the average patriotic person.

Now at the bar to empty my boundless sorrows I stand in line, begging for another sip of the empty feeling that the alcohol provided to soothe my empty and devoid soul. A friend where there was none, a lover where there is a lack of affection, a partner of alcoholic bliss. A personal medicine that I was taking in with droves. Friends in tow I was now dragged outside.

Stars and lights partially illuminated the surrounding wooden table at the back end of the building. The laughs, cries and never ending alcoholic blunders of the crowd outside seemed to being life to the empty and dull outside of the building. Their lives bringing vitality and life to the empty thoughts that ruminate through my suicidal mind. The thoughts that would never leave me no matter how much I begged as though they were an obsessive lover, unable to leave the dying relationship, begging to be let back in like a hound begging at the door for food. Their smiles, their laughs filled me with an emptiness that I could not describe in words. A feeling of emptiness that permeated through my body, a vaccine of pure lust towards the filthy throughs.

Their passively inclined flirts towards each other made me fall lovingly into a depressive need for the longing touch of a lover to possess me as though I was an inescapable debt longing over their head. Th social talks that emanated from their mouths seemed to go forever. Their conversations shallow with deceit. Faces fake with smiles. Hearts filled with discontent. Wine glasses clanked together in a celebration of their alcoholism, their consciousness voided and clouded with the caress of the whiskey they consume. One sat next to me, clad in a black shirt, his conversations were a verbal vomit of their daily lives, complete with all the nefarious details of their inner workings of their social lives. One group, huddles together as though seeking warmth in a cold Siberian winter, their body language and eyes flirting with each other as though they were old friends meeting again, looking almost lovingly into each others retinas. Their hands slowly eclipsing each other as though they were the moon and the sun, perfectly matching each others energy. A beautiful symbiotic exchange of warmth of pleasantries.

Slowly sipping my drink I fell further into the drunken warmth that the whiskey provided. Slowly getting myself closer to the ability to feel somewhat comfortable inside my own skin. My deep feeling of nakedness towards everyone around me since I had cut my long locks for a buzz cut. The warmth of my brain seemed to leave me in droves like a exodus of people from a dying metropolis.

I left, drink in hand to soothe my dispositive despair.

[kaiwritesgood]

“Object” Assignment

               My parents met on the Washington D.C. Metro – the Orange Line train. Years later, my brother and I would become accustomed to spending 24 hours on an Amtrak train headed from D.C. to West Palm Beach, Florida. In my teens, I forced my friends to pick me up and drop me off at the appropriate Metro station. I had a dormant license as my dad provided me with an endless supply of SmartTrip cards.                I learned at a young age that cars were expensive, insurance was just as expensive, and teenagers could not be trusted behind the wheel. I would grow tired of arguing that, and I’d quickly run out of sources and statistics to support my point, which was that I could be trusted, and I was deserving. My friends were not good drivers. And my classmates frequently got into accidents, documented on the local news.                My 16-year-old-self had no idea I would not receive my first car until age 23, nine months into the first year of the pandemic.                By 2020, I had been living in Pittsburgh for six years, and I relied on the Port Authority (now Pittsburgh Regional Transit) to get me anywhere and everywhere. I had enough practice. And the system was smaller than the one I was used to. But I would soon find that this bus system was riddled with problems.                The bus was frequently late and often a no-show. Sometimes, and infuriatingly, it would come too early. There was only one downtown location for obtaining and refilling a bus pass.                When the pandemic came, I feared these buses more than usual. I refused to use them unless necessary and relied on my boyfriend and his Kia Forte to get me around.                Then my mom called one afternoon.                “Ron’s upgrading his car,” she said. I felt my face light up.

               Wait, I thought. I don’t know shit about cars.                Two weeks, and $5,000 later, I had a black, 2016 Honda HR-V parallel parked in front of my apartment. My first few trips were to the craft store. After that, the grocery store, then my friend’s places, then to the mall, then to restaurants, and even across the state and back. I started to enjoy traveling on my own schedule, picking up my friends, shopping at odd times, even sitting in drive-thru’s became almost “fun”.                But when school and work resumed, I’d soon realize that I really don’t like to drive.                By the end of the first year of ownership, I had been in two accidents, collected a wide range of parking tickets, fell behind on insurance payments, spent a fortune on gas, locked my keys in the trunk, then lost the set of backup keys. Having a car was starting to feel like having a child.                The car provided me with only a level of privacy money could buy and at the same time, it exposed me to a world of new dangers. Being behind the wheel makes me think of all the many auto-related ways people die that I had never thought of before. A moment never went by where I didn’t miss and long for the train.                The car operated on so many extremes; it expanded and limited the places I could go, it was safe and dangerous at the same time, and it felt like it either went very fast or very slow. I felt conflicted about this realization though because I had been asking for a car since I got my license at 17. I almost felt like my complaints had a tinge of privilege in them. I owned one car that was completely paid off, it was even black inside and out like I preferred. I had access to two cars, if you included my boyfriend’s. And in today’s economy, I knew a two-car household was considered a luxury to many people. Here I was, complaining, about having too much.                Even though the act of driving irritated me, I recognized the importance of the car. And after owning it for only two years, I can’t imagine not having it. And maybe the reliance on it is what I resent – the conditions that forced me into driving. America was built for cars and planes, not trains. To an adult who grew up on trains, and religiously watched Thomas the Train, this was heartbreaking.                But I love my car. It’s my first car. And I’ll never have another first car. I’ve customized it. I’ve stuck pins in the upholstery, stickers on the sun visor, and hung keychains from the rearview mirror. I slapped a Maryland crab magnet on the back next to the holographic license plate frame I bought for it from Walmart. There’s French Toast Crunch pieces lodged under the backseat, and a dent in the driver’s side I got when a lady hit me on a side street in Rosslyn, Virginia. My prized collection of fast-food napkins and masks stuffed in the glove compartment, expired library books in the passenger storage pocket, and my Animal Crossing keychain dangling from the rearview (it’s Blathers). It’s one-of-a-kind, an extension of myself.                I can’t tell you how fast it goes, or how many miles are on it without starting it first. I’m not sure what kind of gas it takes, I just know it’s not diesel. It’s taught me a lot about the sanctity of life, and how important it is to be patient, and what people truly mean when they say, “DRIVE SAFE.”                Every day, I remind myself it is a privilege to drive, although it’s treated as a right. There are (not enough) consequences to unsafe driving and the road is a communal space. It is to be shared, not ruled.                Every day, I miss the freedom of the train and not having to worry about parking. Nowadays, I only drive three days a week. And that is more than enough for me.

[robosucka]

(the OP of this post politely asked if i could say more about why I think it is stupid. I am happy to do so because I care deeply about this stuff and want people to have access to the better versions of the ideas Sam Kriss is ripping off for his substack, and also because if I saw Sam Kriss in the street i would rip his liver out with my teeth. Hi, Sam. Stay the fuck away from conventions or I'll kill you in real life.)

First, a condensing of his essay as I understand it. In 6,200 words Mr. Kriss makes the following points:

(1) we live Online but didn’t used to; we may not live Online in the future; the Internet brings us “low-res” ‘minimum viable products’ that guarantee happiness but never go past their minimum; that people agree that the fire hose of Online has “destroyed their attention spans”; (2) “there is nothing there” online; “pouty nineteen-year-old” “nymphets” found out I grope women and don’t like me anymore; people don’t write first novels anymore they’re writing second and third novels and I like those less; (3) petroleum is awesome; extractive capital is the only “real” form of growth; a strange assertion that nobody wanted to touch Saudi oil money; and finally the 2010′s canard: ‘data is the new oil’ (but NOT in an AI training corpus way, the only way that could possibly be true); social media is bad because of Islam (??); communicating online about social justice is inherently pointless because “our global miracle of psychic togetherness” (this is my phrase, in fairness, but also in fairness, I am an outsider artist with very sincere opinions about this stuff), he says that that miracle is fundamentally Saudi; “as if the entire terrain of combat wasn’t [sic] provided by a nightmare head-chopping theocratic state”. (?????)

He returns to sensible good ideas from other people, instead of his own half-remembered misquote of Cyclonopedia. He says hey, targeted ads don’t work (they don’t); web3 isn’t cool (it isn’t); “the ship’s rats” are “stripping the galley” as it sinks. That’s true, but it’s not even a complaint about media OR forms of communication, it’s a diagnosis of the vampires robbing everyone and calling themselves Private Equity Firms, he just sneaks it in there and hopes you won’t notice he’s run out of examples. Section (4) is totally incoherent; he’s mad at TV but blames the Internet; he’s mad at USAmerican politics but blames the Internet (instead of sensibly deciding to kill a Congressman with a brick); he’s mad that people know he’s a sex pest (and blames the Internet for letting them find out). He agrees with most people that the George Floyd protests did not fundamentally change America’s founding sins of racism and brutal violence (and, bizarrely, blames the Internet). In his shortest section, #5, ostensibly his thesis, he simply predicts that “[p]rint magazines will outlive Substack”. okay thanks so much let’s hit the bong real quick i love you for reading this

Here’s what’s wrong and who he’s ripping off. A lot of the time Mr. Kriss wants to complain about something a company does to people, but he gets mad at the people who decide to do it. “Short attention spans”, the uselessness of “the time you give over to the machine” - to him, this is your fault, is my fault, and he’s not at all interested in even figuring out whether or not any of it is Meta or Twitter or Alphabet’s fault (even though it’s mostly Meta or Twitter or Alphabet’s fault). He also says the only solution is that “there is still time to do something else[...] giving me[...]money” so that he can “create something that is not like the Internet”. “People claim to be deeply worried by this stuff, but I think you secretly like it”, he negs. Please subscribe to my Substack. Please give me money. I used to have subscribers and money and now I don't and I miss them both. Sections 1, 2, and 3, in these I think sam kriss is writing, y’know, hey I read some stuff and talked about it with smart people over drinks a couple years ago and here’s what I remember from that. He’s “right” in that he is repeating smart people smart ideas about the real world, but he’s ‘wrong’ in the ways he lacks their ability to contextualize those ideas. 3′s stress on oil dollars and Saudi petrocapital, one of the longer and more interesting ideas in the VERY LONG essay, is a ripoff of and sad misunderstanding of the stuff in Reza Negarestani’s Cyclonopedia, a book that a lot of people read the year it came out and which very few people have read since. Cyclonopedia is an impressive piece of literature about the sentience of oil and the petro-political ramifications we all live in. Negarestani is another one of those CCRU types like Nick Land (Fanged Noumena) and Mark Fisher (Flatline Constructs) who are mostly relevant for giving people like Richard Spencer zoom interview backdrops of a bookshelf. On BeReal: I use BeReal and Mr. Kriss obviously does not; he is mad about the way he assumes the app works, but it doesn’t work that way (you can post “lates” and my friends - we are in our 30s - normally do post “late” by an hour or two). He says man, these millenial women, they’re taking photos of the thing they’re doing at the time they’re supposed to take that photo, and they’re posting it on the app that tells them when to take that photo and what it should look like. and, again, just like social media, it’s still women’s fault for not writing novels instead. How progressive. The stuff about ‘cancel culture’ is so obviously just “sex pest mad people found out about him” that I won’t bother to discuss it but c’mon obviously that is stupid. right? Thanks!