#so like the irl money issues Will Not let me accept anything in game right now aha

[uldahstreetrat]

alright, I need about 3.8mil gil yet today so order of operations on that is gonna be beast tribe dailies, dungeons I can solo to turn in gear for seals to buy coke, listing as many crafting crystals as I can afford to give up on Q'ihnn for sale, and then rinse and repeat on Ophianne

also thank you to everyone who has offered to give me the gil I need for this, I really appreciate it it's so sweet of you <3 unfortunately im insane and this is a personal challenge now but if I'm still at this by 11pm maybe, uh,,, maybe I'll accept some help aha

[primroses-n-deadleaves]

i dont have anyone to talk to rn, not out of anything bad theyre just busy and also have their own issues and so on; its okay still it leaves me wondering what went wrong? i only have two ppl that i can rlly talk to like both socialize and also to the extremes of venting, i try to help them too but im not rlly good at it, and so, whenever theyre missing or busy, i feel very alone, which is funny becuz im quite fortunate to have a semi active group on discord with cool ppl but instead of trying to get rid of my loneliness ig i jus self isolate idek whats wrong with me now, all the bad stressful stuff passed, for now,, mom was angry cuz my room got infested with termites, she got rid of them and i was left with the task of cleaning the stain,; and i jus discovered theres more termites to my side that went unnoticed by mom and that are eating the table and chair,; she doenst know of that yet thou so i can handle but i havent, the weekend approaches which is when well be doing all of this, i could try to take care of it before saturday before she notices and gets even more angry at me but here i am writing instead.

i feel very useless, my car is still at the repair shop so i can go out and buy the insecticide i need to get rid of the termitees, its at the repair shop cuz i let it break,, when it broke i called mom and she was at work so she asked me if i had any friends that could come and help me, all my friends are little ppl on my phone stuck to the other side of screen,; she had to call her friend which i was lucky that he was available and came to help me i felt very alone and useless and without any friends theres only so much online friends can do and i dont blame them, im also an online friend to them and i cant rlly do much for them either; that said, i rlly want irl friends.... but those "friends" i, stupid highschool drama ruined all my friendships its been 4 years and im still suffering the consequences of it; and also i rlly miss them, even if they were shitty and used me i still miss them;; maybe if i had acted like nothing id probably still be used sure but maybe i wouldve had someone to call when my car broke down

also im unemployed, with a gambling addiction of all things,, ive been thinking of getting a cheaper addiction- well, cheaper in the long run, something like smoking, not drinking, drinking is a bit expensive and my family from dad's side has a history of alcoholism,, so smoking or vaping, ruin my lungs,, im pretty sure a pack of cigarettes is cheaper than putting 100 into gacha games; why not look for a job? great question, i have, maybe not hard enough but im a bit too depressed if u cant tell by the writing; ive also tried to do online job but its rlly taxing to do a lot of work making vids and such to see no profit and ik ik it comes with time but i dont have time i need money now the funniest part is that i tried to apply for military jobs yknow the army and even those have rejected me, yes im overweight according to bmi, thats all they needed to disqualify me,; so instead i spend my time leeching money of mom, i feel very guilty, im a horrible child,, i sobbed when i was getting my meds and it ended up costing 30 bucks to buy becuz i sent it to a damn walgreens instead of a local pharmacy that accepts my insurance, i lost my meds and i could get refill but itll end up costing until i change the location which i cant change until my next visit

i wanted to kill myself when mom told me i could be working rn and that she was right, i could be working rn but instead i was laying on the bed which isnt even mine becuz i sleep on my sisters room taht has ac

the feeling had dissipated for a moment, well, it left when i repressed my feelings, which writing about it makes me confront those feelings so the suicidal ideation is back; in moments like this i think about one certain episode of fairly odd parents, yknow the one where timmy sees how the world would be if he never existed and sees that everyone around him is doing better without him? i dont remember the ending, i just think about it and think im better off dead, literally, i bring no good to the world

if u happen to stumble upon this, dw, i have a strangely strong will to live, last time i rlly tried to kill myself and acted, i called the hotline, which took me to the hospital where i was fortunate its a good hospital and got treated nicely,; bottom line is, and i quite hate this part of myself, ill live,; this stupid survival instict is strong enough to keep me from dying, i rlly hope it wasnt , life honestly isnt worth living,, the world is a shit place

[strawberrymilkgeorge]

Part Four. "You hosted me?? In MINECRAFT??"

warnings: swearing but that’s it (i think)! just karl being a goof and dream being a little shit but whats new word count: 3k (not ncluding pictures)

behind the screen (irl dream x reader) series masterlist ultimate masterlist

**********

.

Y/n  sat to Karl's left, out of the camera's view as he scrolled through Twitter on his PC.

"Um... oh, how did you guys meet?" Karl read before looking offscreen at Y/n. "Uh... school?"

"What? I was going to make up a funny story but I'm appalled by the seriousness in your voice! Is that really how you think we met?"

The embarrassment on his face answered her question. "Karl! I'm two years younger than you, how would we meet have met at school?"

"I don't know!" he said back defensively, raising his shoulders. "Clubs?"

"Like I was in any of the nerd clubs you were in."

"Well, then, how did we meet?"

Y/n sighed with a laugh. "Our moms–"

"Oh, wait wait, I remember!" he cut her off, excitedly looking towards Y/n. "Our moms are friends and they forced us to hang out." He smiled proudly and looked back to his screen as he continued scrolling for good questions. "If I'm honest, I only still hang out with you because my mom makes me."

Y/n smacked Karl's arm and he laughed but pretended to be hurt. "WHAT THE HONK, BUGSY?!"

"I can't stand you. I barely hit you, nimrod."

Karl giggled and read another one. "How tall is Bugsy? Two feet, four inches."

"No, I'm 7'6," Y/n lied easily and Karl laughed.

"How tall are you actually?"

'I think 5'10 or something? Maybe 5'11. I'm not 6' but I'm taller than you for sure, I know that much–"

"Okay, you are not taller than me. Just to be clear. Chat, Bugsy is not taller than me."

"Yes, I am. Wanna test it?"

"No," he replied quietly in defeat.

"Because you know I'm right," Y/n laughed as her eyes flicked over to read chat. They were spamming their surprise, expecting her to be short. "Yeah, no, chat, I'm tall. I'm taller than Karl."

"Only because your shoes make you tall! Doc Martens are tall and that's pretty much all you wear!"

"You're shorter than me when I'm barefoot!"

"That's literally false. Like completely."

"Just accept it, shorty."

"I'll accept that you're taller than George and Sapnap, but not me. I'm barely taller than you but I'm still taller."

"Whateverrrr. I'll move on to protect your dignity."

Karl ignored her and laughed, pointing to a message from Dream in Karl's chat.

"Dream said I have short girl energy," Y/n read.

"You kinda do."

"What does that even mean?"

"You're shy around new people and you act all sweet."

"So tall girls can't be shy and sweet? Or shy and sweet girls can't be tall?"

"Stop twisting my words," Karl groaned.

"Also, wait, what do you mean I act sweet? Am I not?"

"No, you are. But I mean you also aren't when you don't want to be. Upset Bugsy is scary Bugsy."

Y/n frowned, not recalling a time she's ever been angry or upset at Karl but she let him move on. He pointed to another tweet as he looked at Y/n, giving her an 'I told you so' look. She read it before shaking her head at him.

"Don't read that one."

"Pleeease, can I answer?"

"No!" she whisper-shouted. I don't want to be shipped with him for asking or you for answering, she mouthed so Karl's chat couldn't put together clues.

"Are you assuming I'll answer positively?" he teased, earning him a hard smack on the arm.

Y/n couldn't help but notice every time she put her hands in the frame, which was usually to hit Karl, half of the chat turned into simps requesting a hand pic because they could see her bracelets and nail polish and now that they knew she was tall they wanted to see how big her hands were. They really wanted every crumb of content they could have regarding her looks. She caught one that said something pretty kinky about her hands which she tried to scrub from her mind immediately.

"Fine," Karl sighed at her request to not read Dream's tweet out loud, instead reading another. "Bestie sleepover? Yes! Bestie sleepover! Bugsy and I are gonna cuddle all night--"

"No, we aren't. I'm sleeping on a completely different bed. Or couch. Nowhere near you."

"WHY DO YOU HATE ME?"

"Karl! Stop trying to get me to cuddle with you!" Y/n laughed as she pushed away his arms, which were trying to give her a hug. "You're a freaking heater and I don't like touching people!"

"That's my worst nightmare in a friend, how did I end up with you?"

"No idea. Deal with it. It's still a bestie sleepover even if we don't cuddle."

Karl giggled and looked back at his stream. "Oh, by the way, in case anyone ever wanted to know or was Dreaming about it, Bugsy is very cute. Just thought I'd mention it in case anyone was wondering or if anyone tweeted specifically asking..."

Y/n smacked his arm again as she yelled, "Karl!"

He grabbed his arm in dramatic pain as if it had been cut off. "Ow! Ow! Bugsy hit me!" he cried as he fell to the floor. "Oh my gosh. Someone call a doctor!"

"I cannot stand you," Y/n  informed as she stared down at him. She glanced at chat, who were all joking about how bad his condition was, saying things like they might have to amputate his arm. "Chat, don't encourage him. Oh, Karl I know what we can do!"

"As long as I don't need two arms for it..." his voice still laced with fake pain.

"Karl Jacobs."

"What is it?"

"Give me a tour of Dream's SMP. Dream whitelisted me yesterday."

"Oh, yeah! What could have possibly made you think of him?" he teased as he got back in his chair.

Y/n glared at him and he cowered slightly.

"Minecraft, yes. There's a PC in the other room you can play on. Do you need help setting it up?"

"No, I've streamed once or twice," Y/n teased as she stood up.

"I'm just trying to be a good host! Gosh!"

"Wait, I have to cross over to leave the room."

"Just do it? What's the issue? Literally no problem, just walk?" he joked before zooming in his camera on his face so it took up the whole screen. Y/n laughed as she went across the room, chat now forced to look at disturbingly close footage of Karl staring directly into the camera with his eyes crossed.

Y/n called Karl on Discord after logging in. "Hi, Karl and Karl's stream."

"Are you on yet?"

"I'm logging in to my Minecraft account right now."

"Okay, join a vc on the smp discord so others can talk to us if we run into anyone. I'll be over in a minute, just give me a bit to read some donations." They both muted, leaving Y/n to herself.

She typed in the IP address to the server and joined a random voice channel that no one was in. She spawned and looked around, confused by the cobblestone wall around her. Her phone lit up so she occupied herself with the texts from Naomi.

A green figure caught her eye on the screen and she looked up. In the distance was Dream's infamous green Minecraft skin punching the air as he faced her. He ran towards her and stopped in front of her. She set her phone down and slid it away, crouching as his character did the same.

Dream whispers to you: are you streaming you whisper to Dream: no but Karl is and he's about to get on to tour me Dream whispers to you: hmmm okay here

He uncrouched and dropped a few diamond blocks before punching the air again and running away.

Dream whispers to you: shh don’t tell anyone you whisper to Dream: omg :D ty <3 you whisper to Dream: first twitch donos now mc donos you whisper to Dream: rich man over here giving out money and diamonds to everyone like it's candy Dream whispers to you: no, only to you Dream whispers to you: a little gift before our date ;) Dream whispers to you: oh and this

He came back and paused in front of Y/n before dropping a red poppy and sprinting away again. She acted cool despite the huge smile on her face.

you whisper to Dream: charming you whisper to Dream: you give me a flower and dart away before I can properly thank you Dream whispers to you: oh yeah? how would you have thanked me?

Y/n smiled, her cheeks flaming up as a dirty thought entered her mind. Stop, he's not flirting, she told herself. It’s literally a block game and he’s not flirting.

you whisper to Dream: guess we'll never know ;) KarlJacobs joined the game

"I'm back," Karl's voice filled her headset as he joined her voice channel, snapping her out of her thoughts. "Where are you?"

Y/n looked away from the chat in Minecraft and turned around in the game. "Still at spawn. Some forest and cobblestone walls."

"Go left and I'll meet you halfway."

As she ran, the Minecraft chat reappeared with new messages for everyone to see.

<Dream> hey Karl <KarlJacobs> hello Dream <Dream> thanks for answering my question on your stream <KarlJacobs> just doing my civil duty as a bugsy dream shipper <KarlJacobs> official petition for the name to be dreamsy <Dream> signed

"Oh my gosh," Y/n muttered, making Karl laugh.

"What?" Karl asked innocently, but his laugh was maniacal. "Oh, I found you. This way! I built everything on the server, by the way. So if anything is impressive, just remember that I did it."

"Karl, that's the biggest lie you've ever told me. I watch the lore videos."

"Well, I did build it all so I don't know what to tell you. Let's go this way first."

Y/n followed as he showed her stuff, including background and unknown facts about things that have happened off stream. After the tour, they messed around the chessboard. At some point, she found a blue cornflower and turned to Karl.

"Do you have an anvil?"

"I don't exactly have one on me at the moment but I think there's one over here. What for?"

She killed some chickens with her fist to gain XP so she could carry out the task in mind. "I need to name this flower I found." She followed him a few blocks away and clicked the anvil and named the flower 'love, bug'. "Okay, thanks."

"Why did you name it?"

"It's a gift for someone."

"Me?" he asked as his character jumped up and down.

"No. My presence is your gift."

"Ouch. You know, honestly, I'm really hurt by that. Like, why would you say that to me? It's just sorta rude."

"Fine, I'll go get you a flower."

"Well, I don't want it if it isn't sincere. Who's that one for?"

"...no one."

"Tell me or I'll keep complaining about not getting a gift."

"I can deal with that."

"Okay, then tell me or I'll make you sleep in my bed and I'll smother you to death with my affection."

"Ah, okay, fine. It's for Dream."

"Wow you really hate me that much!" Karl laughed.

"No, I'm just not touchy like you!" she defended. She always worried she offended Karl since he was so physically affectionate towards his friends but she just wasn't a physical person.

"Oh, speaking of Dream..." he turned and Y/n followed his characters line of sight, having to zoom in to see the green figure perched at the top of a tree.

"He's very menacing."

"He does that."

<Bugsy> come here pls dream <Bugsy> i have a gift :]

Dream ran towards Y/n and stopped in front of her expectedly. She looked at Karl then back at Dream and dropped the gift, backing up after and crouching.

His character picked it up and held it, pausing to read the name. After a moment, he slowly looked up at Y/n's character before jumping and spinning in circles. Y/n hid her smile in her sleeve even though no one could see her.

<Dream> wait lemme see the one I gave you <Bugsy> what D: <Dream> I wanna name it

"What is going on?" Karl giggled.

"Gift exchange. Mind your own business."

"Woah!" Karl gasped dramatically. "Uncalled for."

Dream came back and dropped the renamed flower for her. Y/n picked it up and hovered over it to read the name.

'host, dream'

She gasped and started punching his character. He backed up and ran away but joined the call seconds later.

"Wait! Stop hitting me!" Dream yelled into her headset.

Y/n laughed, trying to contain her smile as she continued to hit the green character. "Dream! Are you kidding? I tried being all cute and you hosted me?? In MINECRAFT??"

"It was a joke! You said something like that to Wilbur on Twitter a while ago, I was just using your humor!" Dream's giggles filled Y/n's headphones and she smiled but quickly dropped it so her voice could sound serious.

"Give it back."

Dream looked at her before letting out a small, "What?"

"Give me back the flower so I can go burn it with the other one."

"Bugsy!"

"What is going on?" Karl asked through a cackle. "Dream, did you hurt Bugsy??"

"Yes, Karl! He hurt my feelings! He gave me a flower and gave it back to name it something mean!"

Dream just laughed so Y/n punched him again.

"Dream! You can't hurt Bugsy!" Karl defended, also punching Dream.

All Y/n could hear was the sound of Dream wheezing, his character running as the two chased him. "Stop! You guys are so– STOP HITTING ME!"

"Fine," Y/n finally said, crouching and facing the ground as she walked into a corner to look like she was pouting. "I'm just not going to go on any Minecraft dates anymore."

"Wait, no," Dream protested in a soft voice, his character stopping to look at her's. "Take that back."

"Heart been broke so many times..."

"You're so stupid."

Karl gasped happily. "You guys have a Minecraft date? Can I help plan it?!"

"We did. In exchange for letting you give me the tour. But I've changed my mind since I've been so betrayed."

"Oh my gosh, you're so..." Dream trailed off but his wide smile could be heard through his voice.

"So what? Finish that sentence, Dream," Y/n dared teasingly.

"So... ANNOYING!"

"DREAM! SAY YOU'RE SORRY!" Karl yelled.

"Okay! I'm sorry! Bug, I'm so sorry. Really. Please let me... let me rename your flower something cute. It'll make you so happy that you'll fall in love with me all over again and–and we can go on our date. Please don't burn our flowers."

"And what if I don't give them to you?"

"I'll just kill you and pick them off your corpse."

"Woooooowwww. Okay, it's like that?"

"Yes, it is like that," he said through a smile. It was so apparent in his voice that he was grinning like a kid on Christmas morning.

<Ranboo> how is the tour going Bugsy was shot by Dream using DEFINITELY NOT PENIS <Ranboo> ah going well I see

Bugsy screamed in her mic as the death screen appeared. "DREAM!"

"You took too long!" He wheezed as Bugsy respawned.

"I don't know where I am!"

"Hold on, I'll avenge you!" Karl declared before he died too.

"You thought you could kill me with your fists? Karl, you're naked and I'm wearing full Netherite."

"You weren't when I started punching you! You pulled that out of thin air!"

<Ranboo> canon

Y/n smiled at Ranboo's comment. She had never talked to him but she knew he and Tubbo were close friends and he seemed really funny. He had already proved he had a dry sense of humor in the 30 minutes she was on the SMP and she loved that. Y/n made a mental note to befriend him before returning to being drama queen to Dream.

"So, Dream, now that you've made me an enemy–"

"WhAT? We are not enemies, Bug. I'm actually naming a flower something really cute as we speak. Enemies don't do that."

"Maybe I'm not your enemy but you sure are mine."

"Oh come on now," he mumbled lowly, running chills down her spine. What the hell was that?? "What do I have to do to make it up to you?"

"You-you murdered me in cold blood. Nothing will make it up."

"So I could get the flower! It was out of love! So I could give you a better present! Does that count for nothing?"

"Hm," she hummed. "We'll see what new name you come up with and then I'll decide."

Karl and Y/n got back to the chessboard and waited for Dream to return with his new flower.

Breaking character and turning towards her best friend, Y/n laughed at Karl. "Sorry for distracting from our BFF shenanigans time."

"This is way more entertaining," Karl assured. "Me and my chat got front row seats to the Dreamsy love saga."

"Shut up," she mumbled as she punched him in-game.

"OW! STOP PUNCHING ME SO MUCH!"

"Okay, okay, I'm back!!" Dream announced and they saw his figure sprinting and jumping towards them. He dropped the flower for Y/n and stepped back, crouching and standing repeatedly.

Y/n picked up the flower and hovered over it to read the name.

"Is it worthy of your forgiveness, Bugsy? Does it pass the vibe check?" Karl asked with a giggle.

Y/n bit her lip as she smiled at her screen.

to the prettiest girl in the world. love, dream <3

It was a joke, obviously. He was just continuing the joke of flirting with her like he does on Twitter just like Sapnap and Karl and George and Quackity do. They all joke about flirting with her and this was another joke.

But it still gave her tummy butterflies.

"Bug?" Dream called softly.

But why would he joke like that when neither of them were streaming? Karl's chat wouldn't see it so there was no one to point in feeding into the joke, unless he meant for Y/n to show Karl? She was overthinking. She needed to play it cool. 

She also needed an enderchest so no one could find it and no one could take it away from her and destroy it but they didn’t need to know she liked it that much.

"Mmm.... it'll do."

**********

PREVIOUS | NEXT

**********

A/N: yeeee hope you guys liked this one! i think this is my favorite so far i just think dream was being too cute and i wanna be best friends with karl so much it hurts. we’re gonna get deeper into the dream relationship soon!! i just needed to indugle in bff karl content real quick!!!

taglist: open (at the time) @hydrate-tion @loraleiix @tinaswagbd @charsdummb @smileyyuta @1ghoste1 @cerberus-hellhound @gaysludge @queestionmark @carnations-red @letsloveimagines @the-fictionwriters-hairdo @boiled-onionrings @a-cryptic @fee-btheweeb​ @letsloveimagines @erwinss @just-a-stan @axths @kayleigh2703 @furiouspockettoad @sometimeseverythingsucks @powerpuffyn​ @itshaileyn @millavalntyne @automaticcomputerpaper @nikkineeky @fivedicksinatrenchcoat @sprucekot​ @bellomi-clarke @possiblyanxioushuman

[simtrospective]

SCRAPPED STORY CHALLENGE by @bugsims

01. Post a few screenshots from a scrapped scene / edit / story! 02. Share why you scrapped this specific thing. 03. Tag five friends, and watch the fun play out!

Thank you to @gilded-ghosts for the tag.

Because I wrote so much that you might prefer to skip, let me do 03. outside the cut. I tag...

@ladykendalsims - @jet-plane-sims - @boogey-studios - @pinkmonsimblr - @dynastiasimss

The above pictures (plus the related tray files) are all I have left of an idea that was half-formed to begin with and which never got off the ground at all.

01.

Depending on if you’re a follower of mine + how long you’ve been following me, you may have seen a few of these shots before but I’ll explain them anyway:

Set 1: The characters Charlie, Hick, and Craig, in their original states on the left and their enhanced, final states on the right;

Set 2: A few WIP pictures of the performance space/club/thing I built;

Set 3: A bunch of test shots I took to see how the characters looked interacting, what they did naturally, and how they looked when I ~directed them. I used these pics to try and find my editing style for the story. I didn’t find the style I wanted. Clearly.

02.

I scrapped this idea because it never came together; I didn’t connect with the characters; I didn’t care about the storyline; I’m not done with my new save so I couldn’t ~comfortably start telling this story when the rest of the world was/is disordered; and on and on. The point is, I wasn’t feeling any of this. Oh! And I hate the whole vibe and time period and aesthetic irl; what on earth was I thinking writing about it?!

So. What was this going to be?

[[Under the cut because this is... so, so long. So long.]]

Charlie, Hick, and Craig were

going

to live in Del Sol Valley in my new save, in the Pinnacles neighborhood, which I was

going

to turn into a Laurel Canyon-style neighborhood. An entire community of would-be songwriters/musicians were

going

to live in the two smaller lots and commune with one another and be the New Guard colliding with the Old Guard; the huge mansion lot was

going

to house an aging former film-current soap actor confronting his mortality and also hating the living shit out of these hippies whose existence he took as a personal affront--I digress. Back to the “story.”

Charlie, Hick, and Craig met after each arrived in DSV separately and they vibed and they moved in together, all in a matter of, like, a week’s time. Charlie and Hick vibed especially. So much in common! Such poor little rich [kids]! Both came from pampered environments in which their family money and respective fathers’ connections allowed them to skate through life and to play at being musicians because--despite crying oppression at the hands of upper class WASP-dom--they'll always have safety nets to ensure they’ll always be okay. Charlotte Grant graduated from her all-girls prep school and put on a floppy hat and became Charlie Grant; Richard Hickey (lololol) ripped up his acceptance letter to Britechester and grew his hair out and hitchhiked and told people to call him “Hick.” They’ve lived parallel lives and “recognize” one another as soon as they meet. They have an electric connection, but neither will verbalize that. Above all, they... really want to sleep together.

Craig grew up working class and has no safety net; he just wants a little adventure before he gets a real job/grows up/gets married (his gf back home is off to college; they’re long-distance; it’s... not going to work). He’s a good guitar player and he’s a good songwriter and that’s it but maybe it’ll be more? What do they say about the lottery? Can’t win if you don’t play? Charlie and Hick want to be famous ~rule the world. Hick plays guitar well and tries to write songs but they’re shitty. Charlie is passively learning the keyboard and writes songs that are not... bad...? Some are... good?

Charlie and Hick--can you tell they eclipse Craig, yet?--have weird sexual chemistry and tension: they tease, they flirt, they taunt, they enjoy one another’s attention but they never so much as hug. They both have cruel streaks as only disconnected, spoiled, emotionally stunted bluebloods can: the torture of their relationship/non-relationship gets them off more than anything else could and that thrill drives much of their behaviors: bringing wanton strangers home for one night stands, each hoping the other is watching/overhearing, fighting about little things, acting like inappropriately close siblings, acting like strangers. Craig suffers their whims; Charlie and Hick aren’t just united in their toxicity and their dreams of fame, but in how they make Craig into a third wheel or a--well, punching bag is too strong a term. Charlie and Hick think they’re teasing their bff but you know how it is to be teased allllll the tiiiiiiime and how it can make your head spin when people who can’t get along with one another join forces--without even having to discuss it--to turn on you. Their relationship gets patched up, you’re hurting, they insist it’s not a big deal and even that you even liked it. We’re all friends. We’re all best friends omg.

But sometimes they have fun together. They have a lot of fun together. Sometimes it all is everything each dreamed it would be. DSV is a wonderland and their careers are happening and life is happening and they’re best friends. They’re soulmates for life.

The three work on music, perform at clubs. Craig is starting to come into his own as a man. I hate the term coming-of-age but in the background of the Charlie & Hick Show, Craig is maturing. He has to, because C&H are fuck-ups. They jeopardize scheduled performances. They don’t know how to talk to club owners. They’re not interested in paying their dues. They are unable (or unwilling) to promote themselves without being obnoxious attention whores. They don’t practice or help write songs. They don’t take care of the house. Hick is late with his rent. Charlie thinks she can flirt her way out of everything. Craig is also the only one of them who works; he has a day job at a print shop, gives guitar lessons on the side, and makes sure the three get gigs and don’t get evicted. The only thing C&H put consistent effort toward is making the social scene or finding a party or scoring drugs or getting laid. As the group’s local star(s) rise, their fates start to change course which increases the interpersonal tension. Hick’s fun-loving nature is starting to turn into a legit substance abuse problem and he’s picking fights with the wrong people and socially devolving, his arrogance and issues and general laziness rendering him unable to relate to others; Charlie is getting a lot of attention from older men In the Business, who have the money and connections to make her a solo star, which she is shrewdly considering; and Craig’s resentment toward his “friends” and disillusionment with the superficiality of DSV is making him rethink his motivation for coming west in the first place.

Oh, and Charlie and Hick--again, as their paths change and as their weird tension remains unresolved--continue to take their bullshit out on Craig and now it’s not funny anymore, it’s not cute, it’s not exciting, and neither is it when Hick ruins a show by being too stoned to perform and neither is it when Charlie brings unsavory characters home who trash the three’s equipment and neither is it when C&H steal Craig’s songs and perform without him at a gig they didn’t tell him about.

What I intended was that the story would at first seem to be The Charlie and Hick Show, all about them, as if we’re supposed to root for them, but ideally, through my ~deft hand 🙄 the reader 🙄🙄 was supposed to be like, Um... hold on-- until it eventually was quite obvious that these two--though human; though in situations we could understand and empathize with--were captured at a point in their lives when they were Super Toxic Assholes, and what you were watching all along was Craig as Hero.

So I had ideas, but I didn’t know how to fit them together and I didn’t want a really long story and I couldn’t--I just couldn’t figure it out. I do know that the end was going to be Craig screwing them like they’d been screwing him, a final middle finger with consequences. I know that he and Hick were going to have words and Hick was going to try and fight him (such a loser) and Charlie was going to throw a Hail Mary of like... trying to seduce (lol) Craig into staying omg I always had a thing for you/we’d be such a great team/I always thought we could ~be something ~together uwu bullshit like that. Was this true? Was this true in her own mind? I think I was going to set the story up so that if you reread, yeah, it could be true, but she’s so flirty and manipulative and socially savvy and used to getting what she wants that who knows what her real feelings ever are? Ultimately that would’ve been irrelevant bc Craig never looked at her that way and hates her and Hick now; good going guys. It’s worth noting, I guess, that when I put the group on a test lot, Charlie was super into Craig immediately, went right to him, stood close to him, was eager to make romantic overtures; she went 0 to 60 in an instant and as so far as is possible in this game they had chemistry, but Craig was not feeling the romance. And no one was feeling Hick.

Anyway, Craig was going to move on with his life and Charlie and Hick were going to learn nothing and blame him, ~the end.

And then, as I continued to play my save and maybe tell more stories, there would be Easter eggs, references to Charlie, Hick, and Craig older/in the future and where they went in life in the background of other, unrelated stories: Hick’s substance abuse problems and rehab stints and going by Richard again and his eventual moderate fame and eventual sobriety and attempted comeback and his bad relationships with his exes and children; Charlie’s legit fame + marriage to a producer + eventual fade away + moderate comeback + solid second or third marriage and bff relationship with her children 🙄🙄🙄 and her palatial house on the coast and now she exclusively wears white and ivory and pampers her dogs and eats raw (but drinks wine) because it “cured” her undiagnosed, unnamed “autoimmune disorder,” which she wrote a book about resulting in a semi-comeback but as a Famous Person and not a musician. Craig going to college and becoming a high school English teacher who plays in a local band on the weekends and who has a good marriage (not to the long distance gf) and nice kids, one of whom would eventually have her own story where she pursued musicianship with her dad, which got him back into his first passion but it was a qt father-daughter project and not An Attempt to Be Famous.

So. Idk. That’s what this all would’ve been. But it wasn’t, and it won’t be!

[darkgeminisworld]

This is gonna be a rant about a probably toxic friend so if you don't wanna read it, this is a heads up.

Okay so for several reasons, most of them being that I need to move on, I decided to write this lengthy rant about a friend I'm pretty sure will not be a friend of mine for much longer, which sucks bc he's almost my only irl friend but also feels good bc he's exhausting and I'm pretty sure he's also toxic.

I've met this guy like 6 and a half years ago, and we pretty much bonded over shared interests pretty fast. The first thing that bothered me was that he'd always be late, which would be absolutely fine if he'd been honest about it. But writing that it's five minutes until he's there and then showing up 30 minutes after that, or writing "I'm on your doorstep" and taking another ten minutes to show up, almost every single time, isn't, especially since I strained to be on time the first months (meaning I'd be too early bc my brain only does too early or too late, nothing in between). And his being late wasn't just 20 or 30 minutes, several times he was over an hour late. Oh, and once when we had agreed to meet he legit wasn't home and I waited around 2 hours, which I really should have held a grudge for back then and been way more pissed at him.

The second thing that bothered me was that he was way too nosy. He'd ask if I'm free to meet and play video games or whatever and whenever I said no he'd ask what I'm doing and if I can't manage my time another way to make time for him. And the thing is, not only did I not ask several times after he told me that he's busy that day, but I actively told him, several times over the course of about the last two years, that it bothers me and asked him to tone it down. My problem here is only that he didn't stop after I asked him to, bc before I told him and asked him, how was he supposed to know.

Coming out to him went well, though he did ask me whether I'm into him, which... No. Obviously it could've gone a lot worse, but still.

The next is more a small annoyance, a small itch, although it might have been a warning sign. He couldn't handle defeat very well. In most video games he was better, but he low-key aggressively denied it when I pointed out the win-lose ratio in my all-time favourite video game series and he'd try to cheat at other games. If it was only about him being competitive I'd understand, but that doesn't mean trying to rewrite the past by blatantly lying about it and ridiculing me for pointing out that that's bullshit, especially since it's only games, played for the fun of it.

We also went to the cinema sometimes, though if it had been up to him it'd have been way more often and that's another point where he really didn't let it go after getting a no. Whether he wanted to watch a horror movie after being told, several times, that I really don't like horror movies, or just the general question of whether we'd be going to the cinema, he'd ask again and ask what I'm doing, why did I not want to go, would another time be good, couldn't I ask my parents for money (which, to be fair, I could have. But I preferred not to bc back then it was really stressful bc we had to move and renovate and I just didn't wanna add more frustration if that makes sense? Plus I wanted to get my hands on some things, which required to save up) etc. Almost every time we did end up going, it was he who initiated it. I mean, don't get me wrong, I wanted to see some of the movies just as badly as he did, but... And if he can't even accept "no" from a friend of several years (also a 100% guy friend as far as he is aware bc I didn't start to address gender issues with him), I'm worried about other contexts with that word. Also we did some kind of text role play (just texting back and forth with OCs inserted into several fantasy works like the Inheritance Cycle, who would parttake in the storyline, no set rulebook or anything) and his characters did some questionable and even outright deplorable things and when I wanted his character to suffer consequences, he always wanted him to get away with it. Like, his idea for one of his characters "pranking" mine in reaction to a prank which in itself was a retaliation to his character's pranks was kidnapping and waterboarding my character. And he kept defending it as a prank and demanded that my character should just forgive his character, like... It really made (and continues to make) me wonder and worry just how much of his darker thoughts I don't know about. And I don't know how accurate it is but I once saw a post with a quote that went along the lines of "man is least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask, and he will tell you the truth." (btw I couldn't think of a satisfactory way to phrase it so I ended up looking up the quote and apparently it's from Oscar Wilde)

So I spent a fair amount of time arguing with him over that and trying to explain to the best of my ability why it was wrong, and for some time it went better.

Fast forward a few months to the blm protests or more specifically news coverage of it and info I sent him. He defended cops and blamed the protestors and even justified the atrocities of the cops, so that was the first instance where we had a huge fight. I practically drowned him in links and videos etc and some weeks into that I thought I'd managed to get through to him (Spoiler: I didn't really get through to him) so I kept it in mind but continued to have contact with him and everything (bc at the time I didn't know that I didn't really get through as much as I thought).

From there on it pretty much went downhill. We had been thinking about doing a trip to London for a few days (his idea but at the time I really wanted to go, it was around 2 years ago when I still practically worshipped that one author, she who must not be named) and to this very day he's not letting it go completely. Even though the pandemic puts lots of obstacles in the way and I have more important things to worry about, namely final exams and applications. Even though London is expensive as shit and I still have no way to earn money atm. And about the vacation, I finally canceled last summer (and gave the aforementioned reasons) and he completely lost his shit and got super aggressive, insulted me and tried to guilt-trip me into taking that back and agreeing to still go on that vacation with him. Then we got into another fight where he wanted me to cancel the vacation with my grandparents, which was already planned and booked and everything in order to make time for the vacation I'd already said I don't want to go on with him anymore and aggressively demanded (he didn't ask, he sent a demand and bombarded me with exclamation marks) to know when exactly I'd be going on vacation with them. Then he went offline after I refused and ignored the next few messages I sent him and only replied when I asked "what I'd I reconsidered my stance on the trip?". I mean, baiting him with that definitely was shitty of me, but the result showed that that was basically what he wanted, pressure me into still going on that vacation. That specific conflict had been going on for weeks, bc despite me telling him that it's counterproductive and detrimental to my mental health to increase the pressure and therefore my anxiety about getting a job to pay for the trip, he kept pressuring me while acknowledging that he's giving me lots of pressure and anxiety and even using that against me.

He also didn't acknowledge that most times we try to meet, he goes offline for hours before replying and disappearing again. That would be absolutely fine if he didn't accuse me of doing that, which btw is his standard technique and it took me a long time to realize that. He always tries to shift the blame to make me look like the one at fault, and he always, always demands that I apologize when we had a fight via WhatsApp.

And when I started enforcing my boundaries and telling him to stop asking again and again why I can't meet, what I'm doing, or demanding other explanations, he started to attack me for the kind of language I use, so when I'm ever so slightly sarcastic he immediately latches onto that and creates a new conflict.

But this still isn't all, oh no. He's also basically an ecofascist, and is fully okay with sacrificing social justice to save the environment, completely choosing to ignore that the people he's protecting are the ones at fault and that the ppl who contribute the least are the ones experiencing the hardest ecological consequences.

He's said multiple times that he thinks both sides are equally bad, in the context of left and right in general as well as antifascism and fascism and that he doesn't "condone the oppressed defending themselves with any means necessary" bc that, too, would include violence. He's defending the "right to free speech" even when right-wingers say really disgusting shit, he disagrees with prohibiting demonstrations of ppl who think that Corona is a hoax, he has zero empathy for ppl who are affected, who suffer long-term consequences from infections, not even for ppl who die from it (he literally said "people die anyway, that doesn't justify imprisoning everyone else") and somehow still thinks he has the moral high ground.

And the last bit he did was explaining to me, from his endocisallohet white guy perspective, how I'm "not discriminated against" bc gay ppl in my country can get married (only since 2017 btw) and when I, despite the fact that I shouldn't have had to and that it was a real blow to my mental health, wrote him a message that was almost the length of an essay, he calmly started to question my replies with the detachedness of someone who's discussing whether pineapple belongs on pizza and demanding further explanation. To top it off, he said that marginalized ppl have to always reply to everyone calmly and politely, no matter if it was offensive bc the person asking might be unaware of that. Otherwise, he said, everyone would be right to stop listening to us. Like, he literally said that we don't deserve human rights if we're not licking the boots of our oppressors if that way of thinking is followed through to the end.

I almost forgot, he also thinks that white ppl should have a say in whether something is a racist slur, or whether something is racist in general (we're both white, but at least I'm trying my best to unlearn what my upbringing taught me instead of being the cliché of the white person who goes "how dare you call me racist, I've never been more insulted in my whole life!", which is basically his reaction)

So up until this last fight, I conceded some ground to him to end the fights and keep him as a "friend" not only bc I feel horrible when I imagine losing one of my only irl friends but also bc I was hoping I could get through to him and educate him, to the best of my ability, on how to be a good ally to marginalized people. But the disregard with which he treats my explanations why the way he talked (wrote) about marginalized people is absolutely not okay and the fact that he just told me that he genuinely doesn't see how he did anything wrong even after I explained it to him in detail is just too much to bear at this point.

Oh, and while looking through the chat to prove him a liar I found that apparently, to him a promise is a promise, no matter whether it was given under pressure or voluntarily, so do with that what you will.

[braindamageforbeginners]

A few readers out there know me from Facebook. Some know me only for this account. Some of you know me IRL. A few of you have known me since I was five (this is absolutely true). But, today, if you’ll indulge me, I’d like to engage in an experiment. I posted this link on my FB page (with a brief description), however, I failed to describe the circumstances in which I conducted my research. This will be a tale of brain damage, neuroanatomy, orthopedic surgery, canes, and pimps. Yes, you read that last word correctly. If all that seems insane and surreal; well, get used to that.

So, you’ve undoubtedly seen that faux statistic that claims that you only use 10% of your brain. It’s misleading not only because there’s never been a significant study to back it up, but it also ignores how the brain works. As has been noted elsewhere; you only use a small percentage of your keyboard at a time. Why not just save money and order used keyboards that are missing a “z” or “~” key? Similarly, your brain has many, many specialized parts that are carefully coordinated to work together in harmony. You can also think of the brain as a carefully-run network of computers, where information (in this example, a selfie you’re going to have touched up for Match.com)  goes from computer A (in this case, your camera-phone) to computer B to computer C (where a technician fills in all those unattractive, bald, radioactive spots), to a printer. You could, theoretically, torch computer B in this hypothetical, and, as long as Computer C gets wifi. Unless the photographer is experiencing an outage, or he lost it in a craps game. In which case, he’d have to go to a public library or Kinko’s or someplace suitable to receive and modify things. But those are a hassle, and it’s not convenient to plan your life as if you’re going to have to run to a business center at a moment’s notice because you made a bad gamble. Human brains are very similar - there are a few places where science has a good idea what’s happening, some places where no one knows; anything, and everything in between. The point is, just like the photographer in that scenario, it’s possible for the brain - when injured - to develop new ways of sending information from one area to another, although that process is not well-known (and, if a few scientists I know are correct, I do that much, much better than the average human)(which, as it turns out, might just be because I’ll keep growing brain until it kills me). Which is really not here nor there, just that, as frightening as brain damage seems (and it scares the shit out of me), it isn’t necessarily as permanent as we thought twenty years ago.

Now, Tumors #2 and #3 were (are?)(were/are/will be?) were in my right somatosensory cortex (that old thing about the right side of the brain controlling the left side of the body? That’s mostly-accurate; so all my motor deficits are on my left side). The good news is, science has a pretty good idea what does, and it heals well with few flaws and without much help (of course, that was just what the surgeons told me; I didn’t ask about combining surgery, chemotherapy, and radiotherapy; so we’ll all find out, together). Which means that the biggest, most-lastingest side-effect of the latest round of high-powered treatment (by which I mean the surgery, radiotherapy, and 42-straight days of Temodar)(and the Cap serum, can’t forget that). In the week after the latest surgery, my entire left side was completely numb. Like, I couldn’t feel a thing (which, when I saw the horrifying swiss-cheese post-surgical MRIs, made me almost grateful I could figure out which side was screwed-up). In total honesty, I was never paralyzed on the left side (although I was definitely weakened), however, you’d be amazed at how useless your limbs are if you can’t feel them. Imagine if you had to actually see your hand to know if you had it clenched or not and you can imagine the trouble I had (okay, so that’s a bit of an exaggeration, but it’s not far off)(also, my sense of sight, hearing, smell, etc were always intact, but that’s another matter)..

I’m doing much, much, much better these days; HOWEVER, as everyone has noted, the side-effects of treatment are identical to cancer progression (this is true), and, as Mad Scientist noted, likely to cause more somatosensory problems (I have a temporary handicapped parking placard thanks to that prediction) and, in total honesty, there have been a few days  where I was not moving at 100%. These are usually post-infusion days (there’s a shocker). So, after the latest round of black magic (that was last Tuesday, I believe), I wasn’t feeling completely well (I’ve also since figured out that my allergies tend to exacerbate my post-infusion side-effects), so, when offered the chance to go for  a walk, I accepted, and grabbed one of Dad’s canes.

A few notes on Dad I have previously left out. Back in... oh, let’s say the past, he had a nasty bicycle mishap that required lots of assorted orthopedic surgery, and required him to become an expert at using canes. So, I figured he’d have one left over from his own medical misadventures. I was right; and he dug out a German-engineered walking stick (that’s the only way to describe it). Although I got an introduction to cane-use 101 (the physical rehab cheerleaders in Northern California were decidedly sub-par), I decided it didn’t seem like a good immediate investment (Dad later confirmed this, pointing out that the form of injury determines the best cane to use). He also admitted that even though he liked the walking stick, it was his attempt to ditch the horrifying, medical-standard hospital canes you get sent home with, in favor of something cooler and more versatile. Now, also to keep in mind; Dad’s hip joint is starting to wear out, and he’ll be due in for more surgery at some point in the future. Which also could be a limp-rich time for me. And it occurred to me that I didn’t wait for Radiation Oncologist’s (horribly accurate)(still horribly accurate as it turns out) prediction that I’d lose vast swathes of hair, before i started doing hair-replacement research.

I believe my remark to Dad was, “There have to be cooler, functional canes. Pimps have them.” Yes, I’ll admit that may be the whitest thing ever written.

However, just 20 minutes of research made me realize just how screwed cancer patients are by dint of being a medical novelty - it’s a disease of old, (or an unbelievably rare disease, in my case) and, until recently, people weren’t living long enough to get cancer, or dying before they got diagnosed (that’s most brain cancer patients)(or patients with obvious tumors/cancer - it was discovered by the ancient Greeks, let’s not forget). Whereas we’ve had obvious, visible leg problems forever, and the underlying cause isn’t usually nearly-instantly lethal, so medical science has had a long, long time to deal with it. Now, in all fairness, I’m not saying paraplegia or bone or muscle problems or anything that causes limps and mobility problems are cured, or we need to divert research elsewhere, but a simple twenty minute search revealed that we are - in terms of those issues - light years ahead of even the coolest, most-freakiest stuff we have for brain tumors and cancer (my apologies to Radiation Oncologist if she’s reading this, but I think she’d agree that most treatments for bone injuries or hip dysplasia or any related medical conditions I’m forgetting are more numerous, cheaper, and more effective than anything available to me, even though there’s a possibility I’m being held together by the Warlocks stealing the life essence of other beings and transferring it to me)(okay, that sounds way cooler than any cane, but I’m digressing). The point is, only twenty minutes’ of research revealed a wonderland of walking-aid options. And we’re only talking canes. There are - this amazed me - flask canes. I mean, I get that flasks are good and needed; double for canes, but combining the two never would have occurred to me. Surely, the point of a flask is that it can be discreetly sipped in those moments of crisis or boredom in the courtroom or family counseling session. Having a mobility issue and coupling that with the cumbersome size of a cane doesn’t seem the most efficient means of delivery. There are, of course, the classic sword canes (although I don’t know how effective they’ll be at supporting your weight). Based on Ian Fleming’s writings and experiences, I’d imagine you could get some sort of gun-cane combination, although, that also seems both tasteless and inefficient.

However, after much, much perusing, I found Candidate #1, should my mobility issues return on a more permanent case.

[magmasliveblogs]

1.20

aaaaaaaand im back! internet issues, which are this weeks irl issue of the week, came back up again, but im back! this is the 22nd chapter! to recap: last chapter erin snapped out of her depression, confronted the shopkeep who ripped her off, and proceded to trounce said shopkeepers nephew at chess. 

“Checkmate.”

At last Erin slid her last rook into position. Olesm stared at the board and then tipped over his king with a trembling claw.

Erin cracked her fingers and grinned. It wasn’t her best game, but she’d gone for style over efficiency. Her opponent had a single king left in the middle of her pieces and she had a small army surrounding him. She smiled up at Olesm who’d turned pale. Her audience was gaping at her and the chess board.

“Good game. Let’s play again sometime, okay?”

She reached over and patted Olesm on the shoulder. The Drake looked slightly shell-shocked and made no reply. Erin shrugged and stood up.

Klbkch and Relc made their way through the crowd to her. Relc was gaping at the board.

“You won. But how did—but he’s—you won!”

“Congratulations on your victory, Miss Solstice.”

“Why thank you, Klbkch.”

Erin grinned at Klbkch. The ant man nodded back.

“May I ask how you managed such an incredible display? I would not have thought it possible, nor deemed it prudent to bet against Olesm in a game of chess until this moment.”

Erin shrugged. There was no harm in telling. Besides, both the shopkeeper and his nephew were still staring at the board.

“You said he’s played for a year, right?”

Klbkch nodded.

“And he is a Level 22 [Tactician]. There are no higher-level Tacticians even within the Liscorian army.”

“Good for him. But I’ve been playing chess for twelve years now. I started a bit late, but I used to play at least three games before I went to sleep each night. He might have a fancy skill, but a rookie’s still a rookie.”

This time it was Klbkch’s turn to do the staring with Relc. Erin smiled at both of them and then tapped the shopkeeper on the shoulder.

first of all, the tactician statement is false and has since been retconed. doesnt change her accomplishment, level 22 is higher than level 0 either way. innate skill is better than applying military thinking to chess it seems 

“I want my money back. All of it, thank you. And while you’re at it I’ll buy the chess board and pieces too.”

The Drake gaped at her. Then the color returned to the scales in his face and he backed away.

“I—that game was—”

Erin interrupted him.

“If you’re about to say it was rigged, don’t bother. And if you want a rematch, I’ll gladly play again if you double how much you owe me. But otherwise, don’t bother. I want my money.”

The Drake blanched and his scales turned pale. Erin smiled at him. His tail was twitching hard in agitation.

“My mind is…slightly hazy. I’m afraid I have no recollection of how much you spent. Unless of course you could tell me?”

Erin gave him a winning smile.

“I have no idea. But I’m sure Klbkch and Relc could help you find out.”

The shopkeeper turned pale. Klbkch nodded seriously and bowed in his direction.

“As a Senior Guardsman we would be happy to provide assistance in assessing all financial income for your business, as well as any unpaid taxes that may be extant. For now we will have to order your shop closed while we begin a thorough investigation of your wares and inventory.”

Relc grinned evilly.

“Right. Let’s start flipping over tables until we find a receipt.”

The Drake shopkeeper made a strangled shrieking sound. He tried to block Relc, but the other Drake was already happily trashing his store. Erin hid a grin.

ah i see that this shopkeeper will have a bad day. also erin is leveraging her connections 

Olesm walked up to her, his tail dragging low on the ground.

“I must congratulate you, Mistress Solstice. I have been truly humbled by your skill. Please, accept my sincerest apologies for questioning your ability.”

Erin fidgeted awkwardly. She hated this bit.

“Oh no, you were a good player too. I really shouldn’t have played like that as well against a rooki—another player.”

“You are too kind. But I know when I’m outclassed. I have to ask—are you a [Tactician] by any chance?”

“Me? No. I’m not. Sorry?”

Olesm drooped further. Erin could practically feel him kicking himself. She tried to cheer him up.

“Don’t feel bad. I’m not a professional player, but I’ve won a chess tournament or two in my time. I even played a Grandmaster, once. One of the few female ones which was really cool. But I was so nervous at the time I totally forgot to castle, and I lost my rook to—”

Erin broke off and cleared her throat, blushing. It was a bad memory, but at least Olesm stopped looking like a kicked puppy-lizard. Indeed, he was staring at her with vivid interest.

“Is this Grandmastery you speak of a class? Is it possible—could I take such a class myself?”

An alarm bell went off in Erin’s head. She tried to think fast and failed.

“Um. Maybe? It’s more like a title where I come from. Besides, Grandmasters only play chess. I’m not sure if that’s a class.”

Olesm nodded. Erin could practically see him taking notes in his head.

“Perhaps it’s a class only obtainable at high level in the [Strategist] class line. If ever I have the opportunity I shall take that class at once.”

“You can do that?”

Erin blurted it out. Olesm nodded again.

“Of course. I am merely a lowly [Tactician], the first of the strategist class line. But should I advance in level and learn more skills I might qualify for the [Strategist] class. And perhaps after that I might one day become a [Grandmaster]…? It makes my scales shiver to imagine such a class.”

Olesm stared dreamily off into the air. Erin edged away from him a bit.

“Right, well good luck with that.”

She wanted to go back and get her money, which the Drake shopkeeper was practically begging Relc to take as the other Drake frolicked in the destruction of his shop. But Olesm had her cornered and now Klbkch was on her tail.

uh i wont say anything, but remember this convo for later. much later, but later. it will be on the test! there is no test

“Miss Solstice. I believe this is your wager.”

He offered her three gold coins and a few copper and silver ones. Erin took them gratefully.

“Thank you, Klbkch.”

“I am merely fulfilling my duty as a member of the Watch. And once again may I congratulate you on your victory? I would greatly enjoy playing a game against you once I am off-duty. ”

Olesm nodded in fervent agreement. Erin smiled and wondered whether they’d follow her back to the inn.

“Another game? Sure, sure. After I finish my shopping—maybe another day?”

Klbkch nodded while Olesm visibly drooped. Erin felt bad, but she also knew his type. As in the type of player who would challenge her to another game day and night unless she said no.

“Tell you what, next time we can play a few games. Not just chess—if you guys have got other strategy games I’d love to play them too.”

Olesm’s face lit up.

“Do you like these kinds of games, Miss Solstice? I’m sure you must be quite good at any game you play.”

Erin grinned and waved a hand self-deprecatingly. She noticed Klbkch glancing at Olesm silently, but then the ant man returned his attention to her.

“Oh, I love all kinds of strategy games. I always surfed Youtube for—uh, what I mean is I used to watch and play tons of chess games. And not just chess; I learned how to play shogi, go, and even a few card games. But I couldn’t gamble so there was that.”

Erin shrugged. Klbkch stared at her blankly.

“Excuse me, but I am unfamiliar with these games. Is ‘shogi’ another game of strategy as chess is?”

“No, no. Shogi is a game that originated in Japan. And uh, Japan is…and…um…”

Erin trailed off. Klbkch and Olesm stared at her intently. She could practically see the Drake’s eyes lighting up in eager interest.

It occurred to Erin that trying to explain a game that originated in a country in a world that no one had heard of that used a language based off a culture which also didn’t exist would probably be a bad idea. But they were both staring at her.

“Um. Never mind?”

awkward. this sort of thing is why i sometimes skip portions, because all i would say is awkward or cringe at the events 

Liscor had several markets that were open at any given time during the day. It also had many streets. So it had more than one Market Street too. But only one had a human walking down the stores and admiring the displays.

Erin’s feet hurt. She felt that was ridiculous. After all, she’d been playing chess while sitting down for nearly an hour. But then again, she’d had to stand around and creatively lie and avoid the truth with Olesm and Klbkch for another hour until they went away.

“At least they’re gone now.”

Erin jingled the money pouch at her belt. Klbkch had helped her buy one to carry all the money she now had. It was wonderfully heavy and made lovely chinking sounds as Erin walked, but she was also worried someone would steal it.

That was why she had to spend all of it fast. Erin hesitated, and then walked a few stores down from where the Drake shopkeeper was screaming over his destroyed shop and cursing Relc and humans in general. She approached another stall, filled to the bursting with all kinds of goods. It looked nice. She’d thought so just the other day, too.

Unlike before though, this time the Gnoll shopkeeper standing in front of her shop did not greet Erin. Instead, she looked at her as she approached and gave a loud sniff.

Erin winced inside, but there was nothing for it. She stepped closer and waved at the tall Gnoll.

“Hi.”

The Gnoll looked down at Erin. She—it? wasn’t smiling.

“Human. What do you want? Are you here to look down your nose again at my goods?”

“What? No, no. I’m actually here to uh, apologize.”

Erin tried to gauge the Gnoll shopkeeper’s reaction. It was hard to read her face. Like Relc and Klbkch, a Gnoll’s face didn’t display the same expression as a human one. But Erin didn’t detect the same amount of hostility in her features.

“Oh? What do you have to say then?”

“Um. Sorry?”

The Gnoll raised one eyebrow and her ears twitched back. That was a human reaction so Erin went on quickly.

“It’s just that I was having a bad day and I met this other Gnoll who really didn’t like me. So uh, I was kinda afraid you would get growly at me too. But I’m sorry about that. I shouldn’t judge by uh, species.”

The Gnoll looked at her. Erin still couldn’t read her face. But—weren’t Gnolls kind of like hyenas? They looked like it. And hyenas were cats. Or maybe they were dogs. Either way, Erin peeked at the Gnoll’s ears.

They were twitching. And once Erin saw that she saw the Gnoll’s lips were twitching the merest fraction. Erin tried out a smile. To her surprise, the Gnoll smiled back. And laughed.

first of all, fun fact hyenas are so unique that they have their own family separate from canines and felines, and second its good that a simple sorry and explanation worked 

“It is the first time I have heard a Human apologize. A good day, yes? It is good you come to make amends. I will forgive you, and forgive the smell you stink of as well.”

Erin frowned. Was this good or bad?

“Sorry, I don’t want to make you mad again. But—do I really smell that bad? I just had a bath.”

The Gnoll shopkeeper laughed again. She – and now that Erin looked she was definitely a she – clapped one hand on Erin’s shoulder. Erin’s knees buckled.

“I do not mock you, Human. But I laugh because I forget others do not have our nose. Forgive, please.”

Erin rubbed at her shoulder surreptitiously.

“You’re totally forgiven. But I really do smell, then?”

The Gnoll shopkeeper nodded, turning serious.

“You smell of burned ash and trash. No; not just that foul smell. Even burning trash smells better. I know not what it was, but I can still smell it on you.”

“Really?”

Erin sniffed at her arm experimentally, but she smelled like she always did. Better, actually since she had new clothing.

The Gnoll wrinkled her nose.

“Oh yes. It’s not too bad now though. All that blood and oil covers it up.”

Erin froze. The Gnoll laughed at her expression.

“Think I can’t smell it on you? Every creature with half a nose could tell you were in a fight. And that you won. First blood. You don’t stink of fear anymore.”

“It’s nothing to be proud of.”

Erin replied automatically. Her stomach was dropping out of her legs, but the Gnoll shopkeeper didn’t seem to notice.

“Are you not proud of your kill? You have blooded and killed your first prey. Is it not good?”

“No.”

Erin cut the shopkeeper off flatly.

“It’s not anything to be proud of. At all.”

The Gnoll stared down at her. Erin met her gaze. At last the Gnoll shrugged.

“Hrm. If you insist. Humans are odd creatures.”

That last remark stung. Erin gritted her teeth.

“Why do all of you say that? I’m human. So what?”

The Gnoll grinned at her with all her teeth.

“Because you are Human. Few of us have ever seen your kind here, let alone talked to one.”

Erin smiled sourly.

“Well, you’re the first Gnoll I’ve talked to. The first one that wasn’t angry at me, at least.”

The Gnoll shopkeeper laughed and slapped Erin on the shoulder again.

“Hah! You are a spirited Human! I like you. So I will introduce myself. I am Krshia, shopkeeper and seller of goods. And you are the Human who slew the Goblin Chieftain! What is your name, brave little one?”

“I’m Erin. Erin Solstice.”

Erin stuck out her hand but found herself grabbed and squeezed tightly by the Gnoll shopkeeper. It was a bear hug by a creature that looked sort of like a bear. She was strong enough for a bear too, and Erin felt oxygen quickly leaving her body.

sounds nice, though i wouldnt want all my air forced out 

The Gnoll must have heard Erin squeak or felt her dying because she eased up on the pressure. She sniffed at Erin, only wrinkling her nose slightly. For Erin’s part, she smelled spices, sweat, a strong doggish smell, and that earthy smell that came from a day or two of not bathing. Then she was on the ground blinking up at the Gnoll.

“There. We have met, and we are now friends. Come into my shop Erin Solstice and tell me what you want.”

Erin blinked at her, but stepped inside the stall and looked around.

“Wow. Okay. That’s a lot of stuff. But that’s good, because I need a lot of stuff. Like food, clothing, um, soap. Toothpaste—do you have—?”

“Enough, enough!”

Krshia cut Erin off.

“I am not an insect-creature, with perfect memory. We shall fetch what you want and I will write it down. It will take time, but you will get what you want.”

Erin nodded. Krshia bared her teeth at her again, but Erin was pretty sure it was a smile.

“I will give you a fair price. Not too fair; you have much money. But I will not charge you more than any other customer. And then I will have your goods delivered rather than make you pay for a bag.”

Erin blinked.

“Delivered? You do deliveries?”

Krshia laughed.

“Of course. Did you think many would carry off bags of flour as you did? It is too hard. No; the stupid shopkeeper Lism, fur sheddings that he is, didn’t tell you and gave you the bag on purpose.”

Erin glanced over at Lism. He was still screaming at his store and his nephew. It looked like Olesm was recreating the game they’d played on another chess board. Erin had already bought the one she’d won on.

“I feel bad about that, actually.”

“Bad?”

Krshia stared at Erin in surprise and then laughed again.

“Humans are strange. He would not give you the same if he were in your place, he surely would not.”

Erin shrugged.

“Still, it’s not nice. And the law should be equal for everyone.”

Again, Krshia stared at Erin. She shifted uncomfortably.

“Well, that’s what I was always taught.”

The Gnoll shook her head.

“Humans. If one is greater, they are greater than others, yes? There is no fairness in the hunt. And the sharing of the kill only comes after the pack leader has eaten her fill, yes? You have friends. And you have more courage than foolish Lism. You two would never be equals, no.”

“I guess you’re right. But I still feel bad.”

Erin changed the subject.

yay erin has a supplier!

“So. These deliveries…how do they work?”

Krshia smiled. She pointed to a small wooden bowl filled with brightly painted wooded triangles. Erin looked at them and saw each had an intricate little design of red and gold that made up a pattern around the edge.

“These are Messenger Seals. They are for Runners. When I give you one, I will keep its twin, yes? Then when a Runner delivers your goods you will give him the Seal you have, and then I will know my goods have been delivered. It is simple.”

Erin picked up one of the pieces of wood.

“So you’re saying it’s like a postal service?”

“A what?”

“Um. A delivery service?”

“That is what I have said, Erin Solstice.”

Erin blushed while Krshia grinned toothily at her and laughed.

“Right, sorry. I just haven’t ever heard of these Runners before. What do they do, besides make deliveries?”

Krshia gave her a long look. She seemed to be checking whether Erin was making fun of her.

“Runners run. They are quick ones, those who can run long distances to earn money. Sometimes they deliver letters, other times valuable things. Goods, yes? Magical items, messages that must only be spoken to one person. Such are expensive requests though. Only the best carry such things. Most just deliver goods very cheaply. I can call one and have all that you buy delivered to your inn for a good price.”

That sounded good, but Erin had learned skepticism here.

“What’s a good price?”

“It is the broken inn a few miles east of here, yes?”

Erin nodded. Krshia scratched her chin.

“Four silver coins. Not a small price. If it were the city it would be one, or maybe coppers for a small delivery. But it is far, yes? And if it is heavy and monsters lurk, the price goes up. You are lucky the Goblins are scarce and the Rock Hiders do not travel this late in the season.”

Erin thought about that. It sounded really good. Better than carrying anything herself.

“I like it.”

Krshia grinned at her again. This time Erin grinned back using all of her teeth.

“I knew I liked you for a reason. Then tell me what you want and let us not waste the light, eh?”

“Sounds good to me.”

i wonder if [runner] is a class or is the runners guild is more of an umbrella organization for deliveries in general 

Later that evening Erin sat in her inn and felt at her money pouch. It was a lot lighter now, but she felt a lot better about it. She felt a lot better about life, actually.

She had fresh clothes on, and she no longer smelled of…well, she no longer smelled. Instead her skin had been bathed in a minty scent from the soap she’d used. And she hadn’t had to dodge fish in the stream while bathing either. She’d gone to a bathhouse in the city.

The day had been full of busy things, and none of them had been entirely bad. After she’d bought all of Krshia’s goods and even haggled a bit over the price the Gnoll had shown her to the bath house to have a proper wash. Then Erin had gone back to her inn, eaten the rest of the pasta and she was now enjoying a minor food coma as she sat in a chair in her inn.

Erin played with one of the chess pieces on the table. She’d carried the chess board and a few essential items like soap with her back to the inn. She hadn’t wanted to let it go. It was incredible, really. Chess? In a world like this? Actually, it made sense but Erin was still amazed. She had to keep touching the pieces to make sure they were real.

But she had to focus. Erin dragged her mind back on track. Krshia told her the Runner would deliver her stuff tomorrow at some point. Until then, she could clean up the inn a bit. Or maybe play a game against herself. That was fun too. It was just—

Erin stared down at the chess board. She murmured to herself.

“Knight to D4. Pawn to E3.”

Suddenly her good feeling vanished. Erin felt cold. Suddenly the food in her stomach was dead weight instead of comfort, and she felt sick. Her hands shook as she put the pieces back on the table. Everything was better. It really was. But…

—If she closed her eyes Erin could still see a Goblin lying on the ground next to her. If she opened her hands she could still feel the dead weight between her palms.

Erin moved a pawn up and took the knight. She stared at the pieces on the board.

“It’s kill or be killed in this world, after all.”

She put her head in her hands and rubbed at her eyes. Yes. That was what she’d learned. And she hated it. All of the good that had come to her seemed like it had been built on the bad.

The bad. The dead. A game of chess on a pile of corpses. Erin stared at the chess board.

She was good at chess. She liked chess. She’d grown up playing chess and other games like that, despite the fact that girls weren’t common in chess tournaments. Chess had been fun to her, until she’d grown up and realized she’d never become a Grandmaster herself. She was good, but not great. But chess had still been her hobby. Chess was fun. It was about outwitting the opponent, about using strategy—

It wasn’t at all like killing someone.

Erin stared at her hands. They were quivering. She could still feel them burning. It was all a game, though, wasn’t it? A game with levels and classes. A game like chess.

“It’s just a game. Just a game?”

Erin stared at the board. Pieces. If she thought about it like that, then death seemed to matter less. She’d done the right thing. She’d defended herself, killed the monster.

Killed the monster.

She stared down at the three dead Goblins. They were so small. Like children. And they had family. Friends. Those who loved them.

The ragged Goblin. The ones hiding outside her inn, scrawny and afraid. They were the enemy too, if she played the game like chess. The right thing to do would be to hunt them down and kill them. That was how all games worked.

That was how you played chess.

Erin sat up. She remembered the Goblin’s hand in hers, the feeling of his skin. She remembered his smile. She remembered laughing.

And then she understood. Erin put her hand underneath the chess board and flipped it off the table. Both white and black pieces soared into the air and clattered against the floor.

Erin stood up.

“I remember why I got bored of chess. There’s only one winner and one loser. The best game for both players is a draw.”

She walked over to the door and yanked it open. Then she stopped and turned. She raised her middle finger and flipped off the chess board a second time.

“I’ll make my own rules. And anyone that doesn’t like it can go to hell.”

The door slammed shut as Erin walked out. A few minutes later she rushed back into the inn and carefully put all the pieces back onto the chess board.

“Still a great game, though. Don’t take it personally. Let me just get a quick snack for the road. And I need some soap. Proper hygiene and all that. Where did I put the soap? Soap, soap, soap…I should really organize all this stuff. Maybe tomorrow.”

Then she was gone, running down to the city. There was still plenty of daylight left in the sky. And she had one more thing left to do. The most important thing of all.

what is erin doing now? also, it seems erin got stuck in the space between casual and pro, where you beat all your local stuff but cant get accepted to pro stuff 

The sun sets on the grasslands. Shadows lengthen and fall upon the old structure, hiding flaws and concealing the age of the building underneath an evening shroud. The sun is setting. High above this world, in a sky twice as high it sets slowly.

After a while the young woman walks back towards the inn. She is carrying a bucket and a brush. And a piece of wood. And some nails. And a hammer. It’s quite heavy and she mutters and curses as she drags her burden along.

Eventually though, she reaches the inn and sets her many burdens down. Then she looks up.

Above the inn a faded sign bears the traces of letters, but the young woman cannot read the language. Nor does she care what was once written there. She only has eyes for the sign. The inn has lost its name. It needs a new one.

The girl picks up the bucket and brush. Then she looks up at the sign and down at the ground. The plaque above the inn is several times her height off the ground.

The young woman looks up at the sky and shouts an obscenity. Then she goes back down to the city once more. She comes back with a tall ladder, panting and muttering to herself.

It takes a while for the young woman to realize she needs to anchor the ladder or else she’ll fall right off. She picks herself off the ground and this time she gets to the top of the inn. Once she’s steady she goes back down for the bucket and carefully walks back up the ladder with it.

She dips the brush in the bucket and paints a stroke on the wide plaque above the inn. The dark paint glistens in the sunlight and the young woman smiles and hums in satisfaction. She begins painting on the sign above the inn.

It takes her a long time and several coats of paint. Black paint for the letters, white paint to erase her mistakes. A paint-scraping tool to get rid of the paint when it becomes too thick. A hammer to hit things while she vents her frustrations.

But eventually the sign is done. The young woman sighs in relief and then picks up the piece of wood she has brought. She takes the paintbrush and writes on it briefly. Then she hammers the sign into the ground and walks into her inn. The tools she leaves on the ground. She’ll pick them up tomorrow.

The sign is done, and the paint dries in the fading light. The lettering is crisp and clear, catching the eye of any traveler that passes by. But no travelers are nearby. No visitors come to the inn, and indeed, none will come this night.

It doesn’t matter. The sign is what matters. The name and message are what matter. They have been written, and now they are here to stay. As is the young woman.

So as she sleeps the sun fades and the last bit of light catches the plaque above the inn. The letters glow in the dusk.

The Wandering Inn.

Next to the inn, a large sign is hammered into the earth. It reads:

“No Killing Goblins.”

Thus begins the story of The Wandering Inn. 

is this where the title card would go? i dont know, this seems to be about 19 chapters too late 

thats the end of the chapter! will this gnoll prove to be a good friend? will olesum be a good friend? will the sign be read by anyone? 

see ya next post