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writefightandflightclub · 3 years

Note

I really enjoyed your Nathan fluff 🥺 we love this angry peach fuzz king 👑💖 would you ever write him being comforted after having a nightmare? 💕

First of all, LOL @ “angry peach fuzz king” 🤣🤣🤣

Second of all, here you go! 🧡 I will warn you - I think I forgot the fluff a little bit though. It became more hurt / comfort? More angst than expected? It ends nicely though and comfort is given to Nathan - but only after I’ve subjected him to rattling around in his own head and house for a bit.

Through the looking glass (Nathan Bateman x GN!reader)

Summary: Nathan has nightmares after The Incident. After so long alone, he doesn’t realise how badly he needs a little comfort - and maybe he doesn’t believe that he deserves it.

Author’s note: hopefully this isn’t too similar to All Better. I know they both take place post-stabbing, but I tried to give this a different focus. I know I could have made the nightmares based off of anything given the ask, but this timeline / focus seemed most sensible to explore the character.

Warnings: nightmares following traumatic incident (a stabbing); mentions of blood and injury - not graphic. Self-harm (punching the bag until injury); Body horror if you squint (some gruesome descriptions occurring in-dream, but fairly abstract); swearing; implied alcoholism recovery if you squint; mentions of therapy; Nathan mildly injured in fic; reader offering comfort.

Rating: MATURE for themes mentioned above.

GIF: by @santiagogarcia (this whole gifset is magic- check it out + reblog!)

Nathan wakes up breathless, plastered to the covers by a sheen of sweat - and not in a good way. On instinct, or out of habit by now, or maybe somewhere between the two, his palm slides over his body to the site of the wound.

He is so slick that he half-believes he is soaked with dank, deep blood again, until his fingers trace over nothing more than a half-concave, half-ridged scar. The lack of searing pain is the next point of evidence leading him towards an alternative conclusion. He’s not dying (again).

It’s just another gruesome nightmare.

Although… there is nothing “just” about it.

The nightmares are pretty brutal. Brutal enough for him to wake with ragged breaths and a hammering heart, his sheets dampened and coiled up around him. Enough that it takes effort to sift through the layers of terror and distinguish reality.

With what can only be described as a whimper, Nathan swings his legs over the edge of the bed, bringing himself into a seated position and bracing his head in his hands until his racing heart levels.

In his mind, he’s telling himself to be logical about this. That Ava hasn’t truly arrived to finish the job she started; but logic is not the safe haven it used to be.

She could come back.

She’s still out there, somewhere, and Nathan distinctly got the impression, last time, that she was vehemently not a fan of him.

His hand trembling, Nathan reaches for the glass of water by his bedside, glugging it down so eagerly it spills into his bushy beard.

Since the… accident? Malfunction? Functioning just fine, actually? Failed experiment? Greatest achievement known to man? Attempted murder? (Truth be told, Nathan isn’t quite sure what to call it, so he simply calls it The Incident.)

Since The Incident, Ava has begun to regularly visit him in his sleep.

The visitations are not waning with time. In fact, they are happening more often, not less. They are happening more since you moved into the house.

It’s a bad fucking time to have quit drinking.

You’d been sent by the board. Something about Nathan taking “tortured genius” a slice too literally. Something about him being in isolation too long and needing another human around in the compound.

Well, that’s not technically true, is it? The shit all started when he opted to get social, after all.

Fucking Caleb.

Before that, he was doing just fine.

Nathan doesn’t like it at all - having you here. Being watched. Observed. Having someone monitoring his actions. Waiting for him to either fuck up or prove himself.

Ironic really, considering where he kept Ava. The experiments he ran on her.

She’d probably find it poetic, if she could truly understand such a concept.

At the thought of her, Nathan physically shudders, and reaches for an old vest to haphazardly mop the excess sweat from his skin. Then, he balls up a change of clothes and tracks nude to his wet room, feeling relief as the luke warm water sluices over his skin.

He watches himself in the mirror as he stands there naked. It’s not a vanity thing - at least not any longer. These days, he examines the way his form has changed since it happened. He lost some of his muscle and bulk during recovery, whilst unable to exercise, his arms slightly smaller and his abs softer. His stomach a little more rounded.

There’s also the puckered scar, of course - that permanent reminder of where he was skewered through the chest like a piece of kebab meat.

His gaze travels up over his body, until his eyes settle on his still haunted face. He doesn’t have his glasses on, and somewhere between the blurred vision, misted mirror, clouding steam and sluicing water, his reflected face distorts. It transforms - for the briefest of moments - into her.

Still amped with adrenalin from his harsh awakening, this briefest flash sends a surge of panic zipping through Nathan’s chest, his heartbeat racing so hard he can feel the pounding of blood in his ears.

Fuck, he curses, reaching his arms out to brace himself against the shower wall above him, his body trembling and his head dipping down between the cradle of his broad shoulders as his legs threaten to buckle.

He turns the water cold, until it is practically glacial and thundering on to the back of his neck, subduing this spiking heat.

She really did a fucking number on me, didn’t she?

It’s true though.

Ava is haunting him. When he sleeps - and at other times too.

Nathan didn’t know robots could do that. Didn’t know they could spawn ghosts.

Nathan doesn’t believe in ghosts, of course… but he does believe in trauma and its effect on the brain. He at least concedes that it is natural to continue to feel afraid; but this?

Being dogged by the spectre of her taps into Nathan’s deepest insecurities.

After all, there is nothing a genius fears more than doubting his own mind.

Nothing a God fears more than his own mortality.

And the man? Turns out, there is nothing he fears more now, than dying alone.

With a ragged breath, Nathan towels off and pulls on his grey sweatpants, tugging on his black zip-up hoody over his bare chest. And then, keen not to return to his damp, tangled sheets, he tracks towards the kitchen - mainly for want of any more favourable option.

Of course, he had returned to the compound after The Incident. Something about that many fibre optic cables being a bitch to lay down. Sunk cost fallacy and all that - too much already invested.

But it possibly wasn’t the best choice for his recovery.

Nathan has certainly gotten more used to walking down that hallway since he returned from the hospital, and yet he still finds himself holding his breath until he is free of it. Still finds his pace is just a little faster as he passes through. His gaze deliberately averted from that spot.

Once, you’d found him lying in it.

Lying in that exact spot, his body arranged like a crime scene photo, his eyes closed.

Hey, it’s hardly his least healthy coping mechanism, is it?

What in the fuck are you doing, Nathan?

Re-enacting my death, obviously.

Uh-Kay…. A beat. A devious smile. Shall I get some popcorn?

Absurd as it was, he had laughed. Laughed for the first time since it happened, and, with an extended hand, you had helped him up off the floor.

Still, now that he’s alone, he does not dwell in the corridor, colder and darker as it is without your light in it, and he tries not to think about your face or hers as he pads to the kitchen.

When he arrives though, he bypasses it entirely - heading out on to the decking, the crisp night air soothing his hot skin.

He wants to be outside.

There are too many ghosts in his house now.

He has tried to shake it. Tried to desensitise himself to Ava’s face. Spent longer than strictly necessary poring over footage of her.

He built her. Shouldn’t that take the fear out of things? Not to mention the fact Ava’s face was simply a composite of some manipulable nerd’s wank bank browsing history.

Fucking Caleb.

Still, once Nathan had looked her in the eyes and seen a rage that was all too human, things seemed a hell of a lot different.

Nathan crosses to the punchbag on the deck -lit by creeping dawn- on instinct, or out of habit, or maybe some combination of the two, his unease riling him enough to sock some punches at its midsection. Right at the equivalent site of his corporeal puncture.

He punches so hard that the skin on his knuckle splits, but Nathan doesn’t stop. He throws punch after punch until his hands are scathed and bloodied, and a trail of spit hanging from the corner of his mouth. Until he hugs the bag - the closest thing he has to a warm body to hold - and slides down it, coming limply to his knees, wiping his face on his sleeve.

He stays there, dead eyed and still for some time, the pain in his hands raw and singing. Unpleasant, but better. Better than what he was feeling, and worse all at once.

He considers his tired, cumbersome body, and contemplates remaking the world one more time. Uploading his mind into a machine or some shit, so that he doesn’t have to contend with the fragility and failings of his own existence.

He stays there, until some motion in the interior of the compound causes the light and shadows to dance differently over him, and he looks up to see your figure there, cast in a soft halo of yellowed light.

He tips his head up slightly, opening his mouth as though he might cry out to you for help, but no sound comes out - only a thin, dry croak.

So, instead, Nathan watches you for a moment, moving seamlessly around his kitchen as though it is your own. Maybe it is - more yours than his now.

Observing you like this, through the tall, cinematic windows, it is as though he peers in on another world entirely. Something less resembling a nightmare.

Lighter than that. Something more like a good dream, albeit a good dream that Nathan cannot be part of. One he can only ever watch, from the outside looking in, always fated as he is to be on the other side of the glass.

Truth be told, you haunt him too. You represent everything he could have and yet doesn’t deserve.

You appear in his nightmares and his dreams, in various terrifying and beautiful incarnations. Many variations of which his therapist would have a field day with, he’s sure - or, she would, if he’d ever fucking call her.

When you first arrived here, he was plagued by grotesque visions of you. Grotesque visions of the skin being peeled back from your body. Sometimes, circuitry beneath, and other times, muscle and bone. Sometimes, Ava’s face was buried beneath the chilling slip of your fleshy mask.

Sometimes it is a better dream. Sometimes you save him. Sometimes he saves you.

Sometimes it is a good dream. Ava isn’t there at all. But the good dreams never seem to last for long.

Sometimes you kill him, and sometimes...

The glass door slides open.

“Reenacting your own death again, are you?” you tease, though not unkindly, interrupting the spiral of Nathan’s incessant thoughts.

A lump forming instantly in his throat, Nathan swallows thickly, and looks up at you helplessly with a thin, joyless smile. He snorts as though it’s funny, but it really isn’t. “Over and fucking over.”

You nod once, and, without hesitation, you extend your hand towards him. Your gaze cuts through him as you search his face and he feels suddenly see-through, as if he’s about to be hit with some Shyamalan-esque twist. Was he the ghost all along? Did he die here after all?

If so, is this purgatory because Ava is here too, or heaven, because you are?

Christ. So fucking schmaltzy, Bateman.

After hesitating, Nathan takes your hand and you yank him to his feet, drawing him inside, through the looking glass.

The room seems warm on the other side. It feels… safe.

“What happened?” you ask, as you look down at your joined hands, your thumb painting a smear of red across his split knuckles.

You mean now. What happened now, but Nathan’s mind harks back further than that. In his mind, everything is connected. Every thing threaded to another. This one smear of blood to that weeping flower of red.

The thought -the thoughts, all of them- halt him in place, his feet firmly planting on the ground. Nathan’s hand clenches tightly around yours as though it is a lifeline, as he is cast adrift on this familiar crimson tide, his face growing increasingly angular and stern.

“She...” He swallows, unable to complete that precise thought, his eyes dropping down to his feet.

You turn your body towards Nathan as he croaks, still not letting go.

Your eyes flitting around his face, attempting to search his eyes, you tentatively step closer, sliding your palms slowly over his tense shoulders, feeling them rise with an uneven, stuttered breath as you do so.

He’s so tired. He’s so very, very tired.

And it happens all at once on the exhale.

Suddenly, your arms are tugging him closer, and his face is contorting as a violent smattering of tears beads in his long lashes. You are encasing his body in your embrace and rubbing circles into his back as his buzzed head sags all too willingly toward the junction of your shoulder, your fingers splaying along the smooth flesh at the nape of his neck and pads dancing over the gentle prickle of his hair. You are shushing and soothing and reassuring and squeezing and smoothing and cradling and Nathan can feel it. Can feel his heart race in his chest and…

Finally.

Finally, his heart is not pounding because he is reliving his death.

It is pounding because he feels alive again.

When was the last time he cried, even? The last time someone really hugged him? He doesn’t remember the last time. The serendipitous combination of Nathan willing to be vulnerable, and another being willing to hold space for his pain is an all too rare thing.

There’s a reason -or several - he’s so emotionally constipated, after all.

Fuck. I’m taking a huge emotional shit right now.

Nathan remains in the welcome circumference of your arms longer than is strictly necessary - until the tear trails over the bridge of his nose begin to feel cloying. Until his breaths steady, and until his thoughts and ego creep back in. Until he notices the way his hands are clasped at your waist like claws, fingers sinking into your softness, and he thinks to release you.

Then, he leans away, a weight on his brow making his expression stern.

He waits for you to judge him, another swallow trailing thickly down his throat.

However, your eyes are kind and level, dancing with soft concern. Not with judgement or satisfaction or pity, or with anything he fears.

It is refreshing not to feel so afraid.

Finally.

“She…” Nathan begins again, finally finding courage. All at once his eyebrows shoot up towards his hairline. “She fucking stabbed me.”

You take his words in. You listen.

His “reveal” is simple. Plain and factual. A little indignant. Kinda salty. It’s not overly emotional, or articulate.

But it is enough.

Your eyes narrow, and you nod slowly, trying to understand the true meaning beneath his words.

You even reach up to cup Nathan’s face, his springy beard a cushion beneath your gentle palm as you hold him. “Yeah, genius,” you tease, with a tentative, lopsided smile, dropping your arm all too suddenly, perhaps as you catch yourself. “I got that from context.”

In response, Nathan chucks air from between his teeth, bringing his hand up to comb through his beard - perhaps to obscure his involuntary smile, or perhaps chasing your tender touch, the impression of it left warm on his cheek.

As he brings his hand up, your brows draw together, and you hook his bloodied paw delicately in yours, examining the wound, and leading him gingerly across to the couch as though his whole being might be hurting along with it.

It is.

You order him to stay put while you fetch the first aid kit, and then, in stages, Nathan watches you with fascination as you painstakingly clean and tend to his wounds, without ever being asked to.

He watches you carefully swipe the angry red away from his skin, and, to his overactive mind, it’s all connected. This red is one and the same with the flower of blooming red from The Incident.

Ava hurt him then, and she is hurting him now too.

And you…

“Going to tell the board about this?” Nathan asks, his voice weak and scuffed.

You search his eyes, holding your words back for a moment before answering. Then, you launch them on a big breath. “Fuck the board, Nathan. I told those assholes to stick it.”

Nathan blinks in confusion, shaking his head, his hand flourishing emphatically through the air. “Then… what the fuck are you still doing in my house?”

“Well. I’m… here for you,” you admit, sucking in air through your teeth, your voice shrinking. “If you want that.”

Well, that’s news to him.

Welcome news, perhaps?

You’re not watching him at all, are you? Not observing. Not asking him to evidence his humanity. Not waiting to see whether he fucks up or proves himself.

Instead, you’re seeing him. You’re seeing him and you’re not running.

Nathan had begun to think that maybe he was the nightmare. He’d begun to think he might always be haunted.

Always alone. That he might die that way; again.

And now, here you are.

Nathan thinks about that. He could so easily revert to his old ways, in this moment. Of pride and ego and stubborn independence.

But, perhaps those assholes from the board got a few things right - he’ll admit.

Maybe he had been in isolation too long. Maybe he didn’t need to take “tortured genius” quite so literally.

And so, Nathan almost protests. Almost rejects your presence and your comfort and pushes you away. But the truth is, he’s just so… tired. He’s had so many nightmares, and this time, he’d like to be on the other side of the glass. He’d like to step into that dream.

Nathan takes a deep breath, and releases on the exhale. Releases more than air.

He slowly, ever so slowly, shifts towards you on the couch, angling his body until he can safely dip his head towards your lap, his nose pointed in towards your abdomen and his knees curling around you.

“Th.. this okay?” he asks weakly.

You throw your splayed hands up into the air in surprise as the weight of Nathan settles there, but as he curls his arms around your middle and shuffles closer, you ease into it. You snake your fingers in intricate caresses over his head and neck and shoulders.

“Yeah, Nathan. This is okay,” you soothe gently, voice taut with emotion.

You comfort him.

And finally, Nathan does not need to peel your skin back to know what’s underneath.

He knows you’re not a robot, and that, as your kind touch finds him corporeal, that he is not a ghost.

He closes his eyes. And this time, when he next wakes, he knows that whether the dream is bad or better or good, it doesn’t matter. Because you will be there with him.

He wants you with him.

It’s not at all natural to him, to have you around. For the longest time, he didn’t like it. It didn’t come instinctually, and he has formed no familiar habits.

It isn’t easy - he doesn’t make it easy.

But he wants it to be.

And, in your arms, he can finally dream that it will all work out. What’s more; he can dream he deserves it, too.

#Nathan Bateman #Nathan Bateman x reader #Oscar Isaac #ex machina

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dragonshoard · 2 years

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Can you tell us more about the fighter!powder au it sounds very interesting?

I’ve actually said some things in the comments section of my story, so I’m gonna copy that, paste, and add on to it. I’ll add more about the timeline later, cuz this is already a bit longer than I thought it would be... sorry about that xD

Jinx/Powder: Enhancements

She's been on a consistent "diet" of a few variants of shimmer for about 5 years by “the monster that was once a girl’, so there are a few visible side effects without the active use of shimmer including: enhanced strength, speed and healing. Actually being shot up with shimmer increases her strength, stamina, and durability by 2-3 times.

Strength: Best comparison I could make is that she’s about half as strong as Deckard was in Act 1 post!shimmer. I’m going to go out on a limb and say Deckard could easily lift up to 400-500 pounds with both hands.

Speed: Very fast. Think about the chemtanks Vi and Jayce fought. We’ve also seen a small bit of her speed in the season finale.

Healing: Her healing is variable. On average, she heals about 3-4 times faster than the normal person. Torn muscles do heal faster (about 6-7 times a normal individual). Typically, she gets extra doses of shimmer to heal wounds that aren’t better by the time she needs to have a “procedure”.

There are... issues with her enhancements. Her muscles are not built for the insane drug induced strength and speed shimmer users have (due to how she doesn’t get the transformative aspects of the shimmer injections). Just taking into account her natural abilities, she doesn’t have very good stamina and is better at fighting shorter battles (weaving in and out or ambush). She ends up shredding her muscles by overusing her strength and speed. I mean, she could still technically move, but she is either in extreme pain or completely numb and limp in the affected area.

When she’s shot up with shimmer, she can barely feel any pain and therefore has an insane amount of stamina. Unfortunately for her, she can’t feel when she’s overdone it either and is left in extreme pain after it wears off. Hence the amount of work they put into enhancing her muscles. Singed was mostly working on her legs prior to her escape, so they are more durable than the rest of her.

Honestly, her pain receptors are seriously messed up. Due to her enhancements, she has a lower pain threshold, but she misjudges her limits due to her time in the pits (and therefore has a higher pain tolerance). So even without the shimmer injections, she can’t really tell when she’s seriously hurt herself until after the fact. It takes a long time for her to learn how to react accurately to pain cues, so she constantly overdoes it and ends up either partially or entirely immobile.

She’ll eventually learn how to limit herself, preventing further injury and fixing some of the stamina issue. Eventually. There will be many slip ups :/

TLDR; strength ↑ ↑ , speed ↑ ↑ ↑ , and stamina ↓ ↓, would absolutely crush an unenhanced individual or someone without a hextech weapon in terms of pure strength and speed. I speak nothing about strategy. She has none, and when she does it’s just dramatic.

Jinx/Power: Appearance

For the most part, she looks like Jinx post act 3 with more scarring. The major scarring is mostly around her neck, her wrists, and her ankles (neck - injection sites, electrocution, and friction; wrists - friction; legs - injection sites and friction). She doesn’t have her tattoos yet, but she will get those a ways into the future.

She wears restraints on her neck, wrists, and ankles. The restraints around her neck and legs are actually pretty big because they function as injectors for vials of shimmer. though the ones in her legs are pretty new at the point of the fic “the monster that was once a girl”. The arm and leg restraints look a bit like bracers and Jinx has gone through a few upgrades over the years.

Her current set of restraints is meant to be her last, as it has no key and has to be broken off (Silco likes his symbolism, he absolutely expected and wanted her to join him and had multiple plans for how it would go - unfortunately for him she escaped before he could go through with any one of them)

She does have other scarring around her body, but compared to the ones mentioned beforehand, they’re pretty minor (not saying much honestly).

Background/Fighting Pits

In this world, Jinx is actually a source of profit for Silco. She is a walking advertisement for multiple variants of shimmer. Not only this, but the rings function as one of the biggest betting rings within the undercity.

Not only are the Pits for watching and betting on fights, it’s also where a lot of people go to get referrals and meet people who cater to specific industries/products (cyber-prosthetics, shimmer, tech related products, etc)

It’s a business hub, essentially.

It’s also a giant human trafficking ring (I kind of mentioned this in the fic). Parents sell their children to buyers or the admins that run the pits and those children are forced to fight. Street children are also stolen if they don’t have anyone protecting/caring for them.

This creates another system where Silco essentially provides that protection if they work in the factories.

So the world goes round.

The Firelights are a gang made up of mostly street children and families. I won’t say it was originally formed to avoid the above, but it certainly prevents kid snatching.

#origin #Fighter!Jinx AU #arcane jinx #jinx #arcane #arcanecorner #long post #yes i edited it #its called im trying to fit balancing a character and my need to make them op

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everamazingfe · 3 years

Text

You Can Ride On My Rocket 69 - Chapter Ten

Fic Summary: Jeremy has recently awoken in this strange world, 210 ten years after he was put to sleep, and is now the lone survivor from his vault. Trevor's a radio host from Diamond City who's barely left the station, lonely in his own right and isolated from the rest of the Wastes. When they meet, Trevor finally gets a chance to see the rest of the wasteland like he's always wanted, though Jeremy becomes more of his bodyguard than Trevor does his companion. They meet various people along the way, some being friends like the odd throuple they meet in one of the neighboring city, or foe like a certain Diamond City guard. Both are wary about bringing up their pasts, but the wasteland has a strange way of bringing people together.

Chapter Summary: Jeremy and Trevor learn the truth about Vault 111, and Trevor takes a little vacation to Good Neighbor and makes some strange bedfellows. This chapter's song is "Maybe" by The Ink Spots.

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Words in this chapter: 4296 Pairings: Jeremy/Trevor, Michael/Gavin/Lindsay, Jeremy/OC Warnings for this chapter: Mentions of death, minor character injury, alcohol use

Notes: There's a link to the first chapter of this fic as the source of this post! Click it to go read this fic over on A O 3, or you can search up the title or ‘everamazingfe’ on the site! This is also my longest chapter ever, and there’s some art to go along with it, but that’s in a separate post.

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The vault had clearly remained untouched since the pair had last been there, the dust that coated everything undisturbed aside from handprints on the cryopod and dust wiped from the terminal's keyboard. Trevor was back at that terminal, typing and clicking away as if it would get him any closer to accessing the menus hidden behind the password screen. Jeremy stood at the pod, his forehead and hand pressed on the glass.

A groan of frustration came from the computer, followed by a soft thud as the side of the monitor was hit, and Jeremy turned his head. "No good?"

"Nope. No good," Trevor muttered, shaking his head and huffing in frustration. "I'm gonna try and find another terminal, maybe one of the others won't be so broken. Just... Hang out here." He let out another huff as he picked up his bat, leaving the room to explore the vault more. There were radroaches everywhere, but with the mods Jeremy had made to the swatter in his hands, it killed them in one swift hit. He didn't remember there being so many the last time they were there, but maybe they were just getting bold.

Trevor figured his best bet would be the overseer's office, maybe the computer there would have some sort of master control system. He didn't know. Computers weren't really his thing, but he was trying his best to be helpful. He made his way down the hall towards where he figured the overseer's office, but before he reached it, he found another room full of those same pods. That terminal was unharmed, and though he wasn't sure he wanted to know what it held, he looked anyway.

What it held was rather appalling. Whatever malfunction had caused Jeremy's pod to open had shown mercy on him, because he was the only one to make it out of there alive. The cryogenic array and life support systems had long gone offline, and everyone left in the pods had thawed and begun to rot. It was easy to figure out that something similar had happened in the room that held Jeremy's husband's pod, and in every other room in the vault. The realization that he was standing in a room full of corpses, already entombed with their family and friends, made him stagger back, bile rising in his throat. He'd suspected it, but the confirmation was something he wasn't ready for.

The overseer's terminal didn't bring Trevor much better news either. The all-clear that was supposed to come from Vault-Tec never did. The resulting incident, as staff of the vault rioted and overthrew the overseer, was one of chaos and horror. The skeletons littered about the vault had made that clear, but somehow those were easier to stomach. They didn't still look like people, and from the sound of the memos he found, they weren't meant to make it out of the vault alive either.

Trevor let out a long sigh, scrubbing his hands over his face as he tried to process what he'd learned. It was all so much. Vault-Tec was pure evil, that much was certain, and he was glad he never had had to deal with them. The Institute was bad enough as it was. He slid down the desk until he was sitting on the floor, looking over at the skeleton of the overseer nearby. "Were any of these people ever supposed to leave? Were you?"

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Jeremy hadn't budged from the pod since Trevor had left. His eyes were still fixed on it, on his husband inside. The harsh reality of the situation was all around him, but he refused to accept it without concrete proof. The man couldn't be dead. He had fought for years in The Great War, only to die a week after getting home? It just seemed too cruel, Jeremy couldn't accept that as the truth. But he knew that the man inside didn't deserve a life out in the wastes, either. Maybe he was better off in the pod.

"I wish I was still in mine," he whispered, examining the lines of the other man's face. "I wish I could remember you." He put his palm flat on the glass, his fingers curling against it. "I remember us. I remember... Our life. But not you."

Something about coming out of cryofreeze must have fucked his brain up, maybe he'd gone without the life support functions for just a little too long after thawing, before his pod had opened. Or maybe his mind was protecting him from something bad. Jeremy didn't know. But luckily, his eyes still worked fine. At least he could still see him clearly. He inspected him closely, committing his face to memory and filling in the gaps where decay had caused the skin to fade away. The man inside the pod still looked as handsome as he did in all those photos from before the war, in Jeremy's mind. But what was underneath wasn't muscle, or bone.

Jeremy pressed his nose right up against the glass, almost like he was trying to push through it to see better, his eyebrows furrowed together in confusion.

"What the hell?" He squinted and looked even closer, and all at once his breath was ripped from his chest.

When he got it back, all he could do was scream.

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"Trevor!"

The pained cry echoed off the walls of the vault, and Trevor's head snapped to attention. It was Jeremy. For a moment, he was excited, thinking that maybe he'd finally gotten the manual release switch to work, but as the other man screamed again, he knew that it was anything but joy in his voice. He'd never run faster, but the vault was maze like and confusing. When he found Jeremy, the man was no longer standing calmly and staring pensively into the pod, but repeatedly punching the glass.

"Jeremy, what-"

"-He's a fucking synth!" Despite Jeremy punching the glass again and again, his knuckles bloodied and bruised, there wasn't a single crack in the surface. "That's not my husband, that's a fucking synth!" Tears streamed down his cheeks, and he hit the glass one last time before he turned to face Trevor. "He's... Trevor, he's..." He choked on his words, covering his face with his hands as he dropped to his knees. "This is worse than him being dead."

Trevor approached slowly, kneeling down in front of him and tentatively putting a hand on Jeremy's shoulder. It was shrugged off, so he decided not to push it. Looking towards the pod, he saw that Jeremy was right. How had they missed it? Wires and metal, all on display. A false bone faceplate and synthetic skin that didn't look quite right upon close inspection. One of the earlier models for sure, the newest ones had no differences from their human counterparts, but he didn't think that they existed before the drop. "That's sick. That's... That's downright disturbing." What business did the Institute have with a Pre-War corpse? "I don't even know what to say." What was there to say? 'Sorry that the man you love turns out not to be a man at all?' Bones were easier to break than that thick glass, especially when Jeremy was the one throwing the punch.

"Was my whole life a lie?" Jeremy took a shuddering breath, trying to keep everything from fading to black around him. "Was he even real? Did he ever even love me?"

"No, no... The Institute... It wasn't around before the bombs. There's no way." Either the man was somehow always a synth, or they came and swapped his body out. But that didn't answer the question of why? What was so special about him that they'd sentence everyone else to death? He realized now that this was probably the source of the malfunction that had doomed the other pods, and they'd probably cut off the manual release to keep anyone from finding out. "He was real when you knew him. I'm sure of that."

Jeremy scoffed. "Great, so then the Institute is a bunch of graverobbers. What are they, the fucking Resurrection Men?"

"I don't know who that is."

"They're... Fuck it, nevermind. We need to find those fuckers." His tears had gone from distraught to furious, his whole body running red hot with anger as his fists clenched at his sides again. The Institute had taken so much from him. They'd taken a peaceful death from him, and now they'd gone and taken away the only thing that had ever made his existence bearable. That hurt more than all the hits he'd taken out in the Commonwealth combined.

"No one knows where they are, Jeremy. Otherwise they would've been taken out decades ago."

"Even better, we'll be the first!"

"Where would we even start?"

"I don't know!" Jeremy was shouting now, standing up abruptly and startling Trevor in the process. Pointing at the pod, Jeremy continued. "He might still be out there! He could be out there, alone and scared and wandering the wastes like I was before I met you, or the Institute could be doing shit to him, and I don't know which is a worse fate. We have to find him." He lowered his hand, hauling Trevor up. "I have to find him."

Trevor just stared down at Jeremy, finding his footing and freeing his arm from his grip. "I don't know if I'm gonna be able to help you."

"Then forget you, I'll do it myself." He started to walk away, but Trevor grabbed him by the shoulders to stop him, and Jeremy met his eyes with a flare.

"Stop! Wait. I meant I don't know how to help you. But... Remember how I told you 'bout how I was brought up by Nick Valentine?" Jeremy nodded, though he was uncertain. "He's a detective, back in Diamond City. He can help you."

"Oh." Jeremy instantly relaxed, his glare being replaced with a softer expression. He'd thought that Trevor meant that he wouldn't help him. "Well, I guess we're going back to the city, then."

"Guess so," Trevor agreed, letting out a sigh. At least Jeremy seemed a bit less worked up now, but he still felt a bit on edge. "All this back and forth is fucking exhausting."

Jeremy nodded in agreement, shaking out his hand and pulling a bundle of gauze from his pocket to wrap it with. "Hey, Trev?" He said once they were back on the elevator platform, looking at the other man for a few long moments before he actually hit the button to take them back up.

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry. And... Thanks."

Trevor shrugged, looking down at his feet. "That's what friends do, right? Help each other?" He looked back up at Jeremy now, a soft smile on his face. "And when they can't, they point them in the right direction."

"Yeah, exactly. But, uh... We gotta be careful out there, alright? I can't lose you too."

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

"I can't lose you too."

The words echoed in Trevor's head as he stared up at the sky. They were camped out in some abandoned house somewhere halfway between Sanctuary Hills and Diamond City, Trevor's own exhaustion nearly making him collapse and Jeremy's injured hand making it hard for him to hold a gun well enough to protect them. The roof was long gone, but the walls were intact enough that they could barricade the holes, and there were some mattresses left on the floor that were perfect for sleeping on. Only, Trevor couldn't sleep. Jeremy was snoring way too loudly beside him for that, and his armor was uncomfortable.

The sky was always so clear, aside from the occasional radiation storm that rolled through, and he wondered if people before the war ever got the chance to appreciate it like this. Jeremy had said no, that the lights of the cities were so bright that you couldn't see the sky anymore, when he'd asked. He couldn't imagine living without being able to see the stars. They'd always brought him some sense of comfort, and if he was a smarter man maybe he would've taken the time to learn their names. But he wasn't, and that information wasn't available to him anymore even if he was.

Trevor let out a sigh and rolled over, his eyes on Jeremy now. The words still replayed in his head, over and over. They had since he'd said them. Maybe he was putting too much meaning into them, but to him it felt like proof that someone finally cared about him. No one ever had before. His parents had abandoned him, leaving him to end up just another Diamond City orphan until Nick took pity on him. Nick had cared for him as much as a synth could, but he'd still said, "My hands are tied," when Trevor had gone to him with complaints about Ian. Everyone in Diamond City shunned him and didn't do anything to protect him, that had all been Jeremy. Because he actually cared about him. And he realized, as he lay there listening to the ambient noise of the wastes and the loud snoring, that he cared about Jeremy too.

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

"I'm not going back to Sanctuary again."

"Not asking you to, Trevor."

"But Nick said he wants to go look at the vault, take a look around. So we gotta go back."

"You don't have to go."

"Yes, I do."

The conversation had been going on like this for around ten minutes now, Nick and his assistant Ellie standing by and politely pretending that they weren't eavesdropping. Trevor was reluctant to let Jeremy leave without him, despite being in no shape to travel. Whether it was because he was too scared to be on his own, or too scared that he wouldn't be there to help Jeremy in case things went bad, Trevor didn't know. But regardless, staying in Diamond City without Jeremy sounded terrifying. For all he knew, Ian could be back on duty, just waiting for a chance to catch Trevor alone.

"Look, Trev... You're exhausted. I am too, but... I gotta go back there with him, I have to start trying to get this figured out. And you? You need to rest, I'm sorry but you look awful." Jeremy didn't like the sound of leaving Trevor alone either, but there was really no other choice. He at least had army training under his belt, he could run of too little sleep for far too long if he needed to, but Trevor didn't have that. And, admittedly, he'd been pushing the other man a bit too hard since they'd gotten back out in the Commonwealth. "Look, I'll take you to Goodneighbor, how about that? I'll bribe Michael to keep an eye on you, set you up with enough caps for a room at the Rex. How's that sound?"

"Sounds a lot better than staying here."

Jeremy smiled at that, clapping Trevor on the shoulder. "Great. Nick, I'm gonna go do that, then I'll be back."

"Don't worry about it. Take your time," Nick assured, waving them off. Both he and Ellie watched them as they left, the pair still bickering quietly. When the door shut, he turned to her and spoke. "I'm glad the kid's found a friend, but I thought he had a better head on his shoulders than that."

Ellie shrugged, returning to her desk and writing up a report to go into the case file. "I dunno, Nick. Seemed like they're more than that to me."

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing, nothing, it's just..." She smiled. "Intuition, I guess."

"Right. 'Intuition.' Just be careful you don't end up like Piper, sticking your nose where it doesn't belong."

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

Good Neighbor without Jeremy was just boring, Trevor decided. It wasn't the comforting retreat he thought it would be either. Instead of worrying about the people around him, he was just worried about Jeremy. Spending time with Lindsay, Michael, and Gavin at the Third Rail was a decent distraction during the day, but there was nothing like that when he had to go back to the hotel alone.

"You should check out the Memory Den some time," Gavin said one afternoon a few days into his stay, passing Trevor a Nuka Cherry with the cap already off. "Some people like taking a trip down memory lane when the real world stops being interesting enough for them."

Trevor scoffed quietly, taking a long sip from the soda. "Yeah, I'll pass. Most of the memories I've got, I don't wanna revisit."

"Not even your night with Lindsay?"

Trevor spluttered, nearly spilling his drink all over himself as he stared at Gavin in shock, who could only grin wryly back at him. "You know about that?"

"Course I do, it's not like I don't talk to them," he said, chuckling as he popped the top on a Gwinnet Stout for himself. "We're quite close, y'know. The three of us are. We talk. And Lindsay loves to talk about you, they'd been dying for you to some back ever since you left."

"I don't think that's true at all." His cheeks were as red as his soda now, and he just wanted to run away and hide.

"Oh, but it is. You really impressed them." Gavin was getting a great deal of joy out of making Trevor squirm the way he was, and he glanced behind him towards the stairs that Lindsay was coming down right then. He winked at them, putting a finger to his lips when he made eye contact, quickly lowering his hand when Trevor was looking his way again. "So, tell me Trevor-boy. Were they as good of a neighbor as their songs claim? Oh, come on! Don't be shy now."

"Okay, well... Honestly? They were great. I mean, just... So sweet, and so perfect, but... I don't think that's gonna be happening again."

Both Gavin and Lindsay's face fell, and he leaned in close. "Why not?"

Trevor bit his lip nervously, hoping he hadn't upset the other with his response. He swirled his soda around in the bottle, staring down into it before he looked up at him. "I don't think I was that good of a neighbor." Saying that he was dealing with some complicated feelings about Jeremy felt like he'd be confessing too much to someone he barely knew, and it wasn't Lindsay's fault that those feelings had only gotten more complicated since the last time he'd been around.

"Oh, Trevor." Lindsay's voice came from behind him, and they wrapped their arms around him from behind him, making him bristle. "Don't be so hard on yourself. I think you were the best neighbor, but... I'm not against giving you a chance to redeem yourself."

"You... You set me up!" He cried, pointing at Gavin accusingly, but the only response he got was a wink as he knocked back the beer. "This is the worst. You're the worst, Gavin."

Lindsay laughed and unwrapped their arms around him so they could sit on a stool beside him, asking Gavin for a glass of wine when he was done being a dick. "I'm sorry, darlin', but it was just too cute watching you get all flustered like that."

Some version of the same antic happened every day, and he didn't know how he hadn't gotten wise to it at that point. After the fifth day of being in Good Neighbor, he took Lindsay up on their offer of redeeming himself because he just couldn't stand how lonely his hotel room was anymore. It was much the same as the first time they had spent the night together, and it didn't really fill the void.

The next night, Lindsay invited Trevor back to the apartment they shared with Gavin and Michael. Not for sex, but just so he wouldn't be alone at night anymore, because it really seemed to be getting to him. He'd swapped his Nuka Cherry for whatever beer Gavin had on hand, and they'd all started to get concerned. They all considered him a friend, they thought he was sweet and fun to talk to, and he had good choice in music, and they weren't going to let their friend be miserable if they could help it. Trevor was better after that, switching back to soda after his nights were filled with games of Blast Radius instead of listening to his own voice on the radio, staring up at the ceiling because he couldn't see the sky from the window.

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

Jeremy wasn't doing much better, either. Nick Valentine, as nice as he was, just wasn't as good company as Trevor. That was his biggest problem with the synth, really. That he wasn't Trevor. The man's voice did play over the radio, but he knew it wasn't the real deal. The real deal was, hopefully, safe in Good Neighbor.

The trip back to Sanctuary had been easy enough, but a tour of the vault didn't really tell Nick anything that Jeremy hadn't already told him about the situation. He'd expected as much, but it didn't hurt to look for any sort of calling card that may have been left behind. Their trip had taken quite a few detours, too, because of Nick wanting some help looking into other cases that he had on the docket. Jeremy had been reluctant to help, but he figured since he was being helped for free, it was the least he could do to pay him back. Once they were back in Nick's office in Diamond City, he relayed the information to Ellie for her to write up and add to the case file, and spoke with her to try and figure out the next step. She said something, and Nick's face lit up, knocking on the desk to get Jeremy's attention.

"Lucky for you, where you're gonna want to go next is where you have to go anyway," Nick said finally, turning to Jeremy, who'd nearly fallen asleep in the chair he was seated in. "In Good Neighbor, there's a place called the Memory Den. People usually use it to try and look back on fond memories, but I think in your case, it may be the key to figuring out what happened while you were on ice."

Jeremy was glad to not have to roam all over the Commonwealth again, and even more excited that he'd get to see Trevor again. Next time, he wasn't going to be leaving him behind. "Great, I'll look into it."

"Come back to me if you get anything useful."

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

It was another day at the bar for Trevor, another day wishing that there was something he could use to get in touch with Jeremy somehow. Letters were useless, and he was pretty sure that a Pip-Boy couldn't receive any messages from terminals without being hooked into it.

As usual, he was leaned against the bar, chatting with Gavin who stood next to him, and Michael and Lindsay who were seated on the other side on the stools. The Third Rail wasn't open just yet, but Trevor had taken to helping Gavin get the bar set up and keeping the other two company as they waited for opening time. And though it wasn't open, it seemed like Michael had forgotten to lock the door back up behind them, because heavy footsteps started coming down the steps. The conversation immediately stopped, Trevor and Gavin ducking down below the bar as Michael moved to stand in front of Lindsay.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Trevor heard Michael say, but it wasn't in anger like he'd been expecting. He and Gavin glanced at each other in confusion, the Brit silently reaching to grab a pistol that was stored beneath the counter just in case.

"I'm here for Trevor. Guy at the Rex said he'd been hanging out with you guys lately."

He recognized that voice, and he knocked the gun out of Gavin's hands before popping his head up to confirm what his ears had heard. "Jeremy! You're back."

"You didn't think I'd forgotten about you, did you?" Jeremy asked, a grin spreading across his face when he saw Trevor stand up from behind the bar. Barely a moment passed before Trevor was stepping out from behind the bar, running up to Jeremy and wrapping him in a hug. "Whoa, okay... Guess you did," he laughed, awkwardly raising and lowering his arms a few times before he settled for wrapping them around Trevor, hugging him back tightly.

"No, I didn't, I just... Missed you." The confession made Trevor's cheeks go red, and after a minute he pulled away from the hug. "But... I'm glad you're back. How'd the search go?"

Jeremy made a noncommittal noise, gesturing vaguely. "It was kinda pointless, to be honest. But I know where to go next. Some place called the Memory Den?"

"Oh, well I could have told you that! You didn't need some crackpot gumshoe for that," Gavin said, "That's where I told Trevor he should go when he started getting bored." Michael reached across the counter to thump him across the head. "What? I did!" The ghoul just cut him a look, and Gavin stuck his tongue out at him in response before quieting down.

Trevor cleared his throat, turning back towards Jeremy with a smile. "Hey, at least we know where to go. And it's not very far, either. I bet you're even more sick of wandering around the wastes than I am at this point."

"You've got that right," Jeremy said with a chuckle, heading over to the bar to take a seat and motioning for Trevor to join him. "Mhm. But we're not going there right now. First, I need a drink."

#ragehappy #rpf #treremy #doollins #jeremy/trevor #mavinsay #juggey #gavinsay #mavin #fallout au #fallout 4 au #fic #fanfic #my fic #my writing #everamazingfe

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thehikingnerd · 3 years

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Day 141 (10/5).

It was probably the warmest and driest night in what seemed like an eternity. I still had trouble sleeping at times from being cold or uncomfortable, but still not as bad as it has been for a while. It was nice to wake up drier than when I went to sleep for a change. I heard a vehicle pull into the gravel parking lot and quickly got out of the tent. My hope was if they were locals they might be willing to give us an early ride into town for free, if we so were lucky. I spoke with the couple that got out of the truck briefly and they were parking there and doing a day hike on the PCT. They were nice, but no dice on the ride... then I saw the lady point and say something about all the fish as they looked down at the stream and I remembered reading in the Guthooks comments that the salmon were bedding/running in this river. After the couple left, I walked onto the bridge and looked over the edge to see all kinds of salmon swimming in the shallow water below. They were a dark red/maroon with olive green heads; their bodies deteriorating from the exertion it took to get them back here, far upstream from the ocean... focusing on the pain in my feet and knees, all of a sudden I felt some connection with them and their journey. I came back just as Butt'rs emerged from his tent and and we packed up. Another vehicle came and it was a work truck that pulled up next to the house there and it looked like he was going to be there a while so I didn't ask about a potential ride into town. Besides, we were starting to get close to the time the bus would arrive. I laid some clothes out to dry as we waited and it wasn't too long before the big red shuttle bus pulled up. We saw Will get off the bus and chatted with him and the driver for a bit. Will told us he had gotten in the day before and comped near the campground for free. He also had a new sleeping pad and said that he had gone the last week or two without a sleeping pad! My jaw dropped hearing this. I don't know how this kid didn't freeze, and just remembering how crappy it had been on me, I couldn't imagine how bad it was for him on the ground! I seriously don't know how he did it. He said he boiled water in his tent one night to keep warm, but I don't know how that really helped with all the condensation that would have caused. Crazy! We got on the bus and rode it into Stehekin with a stop off at their praised bakery (seemed just normal bakery to me but I'm not big on pastries and such) but I was starving and hadn't eaten anything since before dark the night before... so I got a latte a huge sticky bun and a doughnut. It was all good but not sure if it was rave worthy. I was feeling much better free food and coffee though, and we got back on the bus and went into the "town". We arrived at around 11am and had to get everything done by the time the bus left for its second and last round trip of the day which left at 2:30pm or so... so not much time to do everything we wanted. We went into the store there and I paid $15 for access to their WiFi and it was barely functional it was so slow. I took care of a few things online and then went with Butt'rs to the post office to pick up his resupply box and for us to both get a money order that we would then need to cash at the general store because this was the only way to get cash in the town (no ATM) and we needed cash for some things like laundry. We thought about it and decided no matter how fast we were we didn't have time to do laundry and take showers like we had wanted, but we really wanted cleans socks and to dry and few other items out so we washed our socks in the bathroom sink and then took them and put them in the dryer. I came back to the store and chose among a crappy overpriced selection for my next 4 days or so, which would also be the last leg of our hike before reaching Canada. This meant a lot of $.70 top ramen, peanut butter/Nutella and tortillas, some Snickers bars, some crackers, sardines, and chips... it wasn't looking great but would be enough to get me through... and I needed a new fuel canister, but they only had the huge ones which were $12 each and I didn't really have much of a choice. I will probably still be using this one for the next 3 years back in KY if they let me fly home with it, lol. Also, I got 3 cans of beer since they didn't have any hard alcohol for celebrating at the terminus (Butt'rs got a bottle of wine), which meant more heavy weight to carry for the last leg, and finally we paid for the round trip bus fare... all together this ran me like $80 or $90! That's not even counting the laundry or the WiFi, but I had little choice, what can you do? We packed our food away and went to the restaurant next store where I grabbed a cheeseburger and fries and we charged our batteries while we ate. The only good part about not having signal is that my phone was only needed as a map and camera and didn't use much over the past 5 days. By the time we finished eating we barely had enough time to get our laundry and finish packing up before the bus was beginning to load up. We finally met another hiker named Symba, and determined that he was the guy whose tracks we had followed for the last 3 days or so. He seemed cool and nice, but I just didn't have much time to get to know him before we were back on the bus and heading to the trail. It was all-in-all an effective and efficient in and out of town where everything that needed to happen got taken care of, and we were back at the high bridge by the afternoon. We both had to rearrange our things since they were just shoved in due to the rush. While rearranging, a nice guy from Sweden made us some coffee with his aeropress. That was nice, especially since we didn't buy any coffee in town and I was down to just one packet of Starbucks instant coffee. He even gave us like six scoops and put in a ziplock for us. Nice! We now had coffee even if we would have to just drink it cowboy style (just mixed in and not filtered). It was probably about 3:30pm or so when we headed back out and had to climb feeling all this new weight on our backs. It was slow going, but we had decided to just make it to a campsite called "Six Mile" that was about 11 miles in. We passed through a pretty great looking campsite early on. It even had canvas tents and a cabin, but it was too soon to stop. We got to the site a little after dark as the days were getting noticeably short. We walked down to the camp and it got much colder because it was a small valley with a creek flowing through. We had smelled a campfire and were a little hopeful for what that might mean. We walked into the camp and found 3 guys around a campfire with a cute black lab. We set up camp and chatted a little, but I finally asked if they minded if we shared in their fire, it had gotten really cold really fast. They let us warm up around their fire, and we talked as we cooked our dinners. We told them about thru hiking and they told us they were on a trout fishing trip and hiking from spot to spot doing like 6 miles in a day. They went to sleep and after dinner and then we did too... even though it was very very hard to leave that warm fire.

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citrineghost · 5 years

Text

A Letter to WordPress

Dear WordPress,

Tumblr has been around for a good while now and many of us have been here since the beginning (or close to it). It’s become something of a comfort and a home base for many. You can understand then why it’s so terrifying and tension-setting when a new owner comes around.

This website has been through a lot of changes, very few of them good in recent years. I want to open up a dialogue from the user base about our feelings and desires surrounding this site, because to so many of us, not only its design and function, but its success and future are a big deal.

Obviously not all of the things I list below will be universal opinions, but I’ll try to outline some of the things I’ve seen the majority of users want. I’ll also throw in some things that are more personal, because I can’t claim to know everything the rest of the users want, but I can tell you where I see obvious problems.

First and foremost, here’s an obvious one. You can’t really go anywhere on Tumblr without knowing: we want the bots and the nazis gone. We need some kind of captcha system for every time someone wants to include a hyperlink in a post or response. Until the staff count gets higher, I would honestly suggest closing down the report system for everything but bots, nazis, and death threats/suicide bait.

Make NSFW content welcome again. Outside of porn bots, the pervasiveness of NSFW content is slim to none. As long as minors and those with ‘NSFW’ blacklisted aren’t seeing the NSFW content, there’s nothing wrong with it being here. A large number of the people posting NSFW content on here are artists who use this content to make a living on commissions. The ban has done nothing but make valuable members of the Tumblr community leave and take their art elsewhere. The focus should be cracking down on anyone who isn’t properly tagging NSFW content with ‘NSFW’. If the focus is put on that, the problem with NSFW content will be null.

Please keep Tumblr unintegrated with other social media. Most users will agree, the anonymity is such a huge part of what draws us to Tumblr. Other people only know what we tell them and it’s very appealing for our real life accounts (e.g. Google, Facebook, etc.) to be completely separate. When users want to share links to other accounts, they can do so easily with links on their blogs.

Replace ads with either, better, more sensible ads or members content. A large part of the ads on Tumblr make absolutely zero sense just by looking at them. Not to mention, they’re all completely unfit for the user base. I’ve seen weight-loss ads (harmful to the many people on the site recovering from eating disorders) and ads for products most people wouldn’t need or want until their forties. Most of the user base is 13-35, if I had to guess. I can tell you right now, you would make more money and the user base would be much happier if ads were removed in favor of members content. Adding a paid membership that allows users to gain access to new features (rather than restricting what’s already here) would be a huge boost in morale and company income. Use that income to improve the site. Don’t get comfortable making more than the bare minimum in profit until the website is functioning reasonably well. Hint: it’s not right now.

Keep the base functions of Tumblr. Don’t try and get radical, hoping big changes will excite the community. They won’t. We’re creatures of habit and we just want memes, fandom, and relatable nonsense. Keep reblogging, replies, customizable blogs, tags, and likes functionally the same.

Be receptive to bug reports and post change logs so that the community knows that they’re being addressed and fixed.

These are the obvious pleas of the community. Please keep in mind that the heart of Tumblr is in its users and if you ostracize us, there will be nothing left. We love this website and we want to see it thrive as much as anyone. We just don’t want to sacrifice the spirit of the community in the process.

Read more under the cut if you want to see some more of my own personal suggestions. I’d love for other users to sound off in the replies with whether they agree with any of the pleas or suggestions and also give their own!

Okay, so, here are some personal opinions that are by no means the voice of the community. I think they’re pretty sensible, but what do I know?

Change back the color. I hate this saturated navy color and I’m pretty sure a lot of others do too. I’m part of the disabled community and I know and have seen people saying that these extremely contrasted colors that were added are making their Tumblr experience worse. It gives people headaches due to light sensitivity and, frankly, it’s ugly. If you’d like to cater to those who are visually impaired/colorblind, that’s fantastic! Do so with an account setting that turns on higher contrast mode or adds patterns to things to make them distinguishable.

Add an option to blog suggestions and posts that have shown up on your dash from followed tags that says “Stop Suggesting This.” I’ve been suggested a number of blogs that I’m not interested in following. I don’t want to block the user, but I do want some different suggestions and for those blogs to stop showing up in suggestions. I’m also tired of seeing the same post twenty times from a tag I follow. There is currently an option that says “This particular posts sucks.” While I think that was a great attempt at catering to the community, I don’t want to use it because my intuition says that there’s a negative connotation. Does me saying the post sucks make it show up less for other people? Does it lose popularity? I can’t tell. The only thing I know is that I don’t want to say that a good post sucks just to make it quit showing up on my dash.

Implement some of the features that XKit uses. I would bet at least a quarter, if not more, of Tumblr users use XKit to make using Tumblr less painful. That shouldn’t be the case. Tumblr should have these functionality options available in dashboard settings.

A very hot take here that many might disagree with: Make notes viewable more like mobile has them. As it is, it’s hard to tell which ones I’ve seen on desktop. It can be tricky on mobile too, honestly, but it’s easier than on desktop. I would also heavily suggest making the unseen notifications darker so that they stand out and making a button to indicate that you’ve seen them.

Keep the dash, messages, notes, and profile as separate processes similar to how mobile has it. The trek all the way down the damn dashboard is a long one. I want to be able to see notes and messages in full size without losing my dash progress. When I switch back I want to be right where I was. I understand if this one isn’t possible or practical. It was just something I like about mobile over desktop but I’m aware that they’re two different beasts with different capabilities.

As far as the aforementioned members features, I do have some ideas, but I can’t guarantee they’re the best the user base has to offer. I’m sure others could think of better. Anyway, some things I’ve thought of are groups/clubs, digital currency, and separate dashboards. So, as it stands, You can have multiple blogs on one account. People can follow them separately. That’s fantastic. What would also be nice though, is being allowed to make separate dashboards. This would probably take up another chunk of server space, so I understand if it isn’t feasible right now, but I would jot it down. The ability to separate shitposts, aesthetic imagery, fandom content, and NSFW would be amazing. If you follow a huge number of blogs, like me, you could even make a friends dash so that you don’t miss your friends’ posts. It would just be a matter of allowing people to add and name their new dashboards. Then, when they go to follow people, it prompts them to choose what dash their content goes to. You could even simplify it by making the follow button default to the main dash, but adding a little dropdown arrow beside it. You could then choose which dash to add them to from a list. Below are some bad paint-drawn concept drawings.

Anyway, I hope this has all been helpful in some way. I’m fairly certain that WordPress will never actually read this, but it was cathartic to write and I hope it will be cathartic for someone else to read.

Sincerely, birb-ghost

#wordpress #tumblr #news #update #updates #verizon #yahoo #design #web design #developers #development #concept #concept art #art #drawings #good omens #bug #bugs #ghostpost #letter #letters

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rainbowgazes-archive · 4 years

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I've followed you for a while and you're one of 3 people I've ever seen mention actually caring about (not just reblogging) your internet security, i am just wondering what (other than a vpn) do you use to do so (i use hidemyass and ublock origin, and usually duckduckgo) ublock does have a Facebook container built-in but i want recommendations

I’m glad you asked this! I’m still learning so if any of this is wrong it’s not me talking out my ass but rather me not knowing better. Also I’m not the most secure that I can be and I’m fully aware, but some steps are better than none. Some of these can also dramatically increase your browsers performance.

First, I use a vpn mostly because I acquire things on the internet though 100% legal means and also it’s handy for getting around news site paywalls. Having a vpn does enough to mask that traffic from my isp. And this part is just related and not really answering the question, but if you’ve seen vpn adverts saying shit like “it masks all your internet usage and keeps companies from tracking you” that is barely true. Vpns are not enough to anonymize yourself or even really keep you from being tracked. Using a vpn and then logging onto an email you’ve used on your regular connection is enough for pretty much every company to connect the dots on you. They’re certainly nice to have, but they’re a small piece of a massive puzzle. I won’t say which one I use but I will say mullvad is probably the best for the cost and the security it provides.

The rest I’m gonna put under a read more because the post is a little lengthy (hopefully it actually works bc last night it didn’t)

For browsing, I use a fork of chromium called ungoogled chromium. It has kind of a steep learning curve if you want to build it for yourself, but there exist downloads for windows. The author states he cant guarantee they havent been tampered with but I haven’t had any issues. If you’re okay with that, the other annoying part to get around is that addons will not work directly from the chrome webstore and require you to unpack addons and add them/update them manually. I wrote up a tutorial on how to do that here. If you can manage to get past all that, it’s easily the fastest browser I’ve ever used. If any of that seems like too much, then it’s a safer bet to go with firefox.

For addons (like I said, I’m using chromium but these should all either be on firefox as well or have equivalents), I use ublock origin and ghostery for adblocking and tracker blocking. These can be kinda redundant but they don’t really impact my performance so I just run them both because why not. I also use umatrix (admittedly I have it off a lot of the time bc it can interfere with certain pages and I’m too lazy to fix it) as a scriptblocker. If you’ve ever used noscript it has pretty much the same function. Last one is Random User-Agent which randomizes information about your computer/OS/browser every 10 minutes so when websites try to identify you by these things, it’s fed false information.

As far as search engines go, I usually try to use duckduckgo when I can but unfortunately there are some aspects of searching that google is just infinitely better at. Still, duckduckgo is pretty good for what it’s worth.

Something else I want to mention is I highly recommend keepass as an offline password database. You can use things like dashlane or lastpass and from what I understand they don’t store anything on their servers and it’s all locally encrypted but I don’t trust that if I need an account for it.

Aside from that, I have my browser clean out all cookies and cache upon exit and ccleaner checks behind it to delete anything it might have missed (this is absolutely redundant but I do it just because I can lol). This is good practice since cookies are used to track you everywhere. This can be kind of a pain in the ass though, because it means you’ll have to log in to everything every time you quit your browser. Eventually I just got used to it though keepass helps that too.

Again, this isn’t going to completely anonymize you, but it’ll make it harder. If you really wanna hide yourself, you’d probably want to use something like Tails which is a linux based operating system that runs off a disc/flash drive that starts with a clean slate and immediately deletes everything except things you tell it not to and configuration when it shuts down. If that’s too much, Tor browser is also an option, though I cannot say how secure it is because I have heard and continue to hear conflicting things about its efficacy for years lol. And it bears repeating: if you truly want to remain anonymous, you’d have to do this and a whole lot more and also never log in to any of your current accounts. But hopefully this answers a lot of questions!

#bowserisgay

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fuckingthefictional · 4 years

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Cross my heart- Part 5

Warnings: war related violence (death, murder, injuries, PTSD), swearing.

A/N: this was uploaded a while ago but as of now (3rd jan) it deleted itself and I’ve had to try and rewrite it from memory, so apologies if it’s shit.

“Sergeant Fenton, you will report for duty at 0600 hours tomorrow morning.”

“Yes sir. Who will I be with?”

“Solo Mission Sergeant. You will be flying over a suspected German camp across the battlefield. You will either confirm or deny our suspicions by reporting back to us.”

“Yes Sir.”

She hated solo missions, they were about ten times more likely to end in death. She just hoped to any God that may listen that she was kept safe.

“Why’d you have to go?”

“Because they asked me John- I’m not going to be shot up a post for cowardice and disobeying orders”

“Look- just stay safe Liza.”

“I will, you stay safe too- I’ll be back soon I promise.”

She hoped for John’s sake that she did come back soon, even though she had already accepted her own death and was prepared for what was to come.

It was safe to say that she was not prepared for this, a simple flight observation task she was prepared for- but not a crash in German territories.

The atmosphere was seemingly black, as the smoke levitated off of the fiery wreck of the plane.

She was disorientated and in pain. It hurt, her leg was leaking warm thick blood. It painted her hands and stained her flight suit.

Her foot was being pinned down by a heavy piece of the planes’ body, while further up her leg there was a deep gash with some jagged metal buried in it. She’d given up with trying to take it out, as every time she tried it pushed deeper into her flesh.

She didn’t know what to do. She was in enemy land with no way of communicating that she was down. She was as good as dead- but she wasn’t going to go down without a fight. Not if she could help it.

She slowly began to pull her foot from the heavy trap as she bit down on her flight suit to mute her screams of pain.

She felt a release and looked down to see her leg was now free. There was a sense of relief as she shuffled back on her bottom away from the crash site.

Until she felt something hard it her back, something that didn’t feel like a tree. But more resembled a pair of boots and legs, she looked up and towering over her was a soldier.

He’d obviously been the one to investigate the site to see if there was anyone to be found. It was obvious that the German soldier wasn’t expecting to see a girl before him and was apparently in a state of potential shock.

She took the chance while she could, as she took out a pocket knife and plunged it into the mans neck.

She was sprayed in blood. She’d just killed a man- someone who’s parents, siblings, wife and children were probably waiting for to come home. Only for it to be destroyed by her.

She wanted to vomit up her insides, the sight of the older man with dead eyes made her stomach churn uneasily.

But she had to survive. Using her wits, she stripped him of his uniform and swapped hers with his.

She dragged his body to the wreckage and tossed his body into the flames. The fire rose higher with the new sustenance that it had been presented. There- now it looked as if you had died on impact.

47 men. 47 people who were never going to see their families again because of her.

The camp was now eerily quiet and it set her teeth on edge. It was now a ghost town and all life was gone- it was silent.

Her leg was numb now and her head had become woozy from blood loss. She had a few more additions to her list of injuries- a bullet wound here and there, she was in unspeakable pain as she found herself stumbling around as the world before her became disorientated and a mere blur.

But she refused to give up, she thought about Harry and John and how she promised them that she would make it back.

The thoughts of her brother fueled her determination, Harry had always said- when in doubt, trust your gut. So she did.

Scrape. Pat.

The sounds of the shovelling were starting to drive her to a state of insanity. She had been stuck in the German’s tapper tunnel for what felt like a year- but was really only 32 hours.

She threw the soil behind her, as she kept limping forward. Every inch of her ached, it burnt in agony- and all she wanted to do was succumb to the darkness and join the 47 she had murdered.

But she refused, she kept digging as she hoped and prayed for a way out.

Her prayer was answered when she heard muted voices. Pressing her ear up against the compact soil, she concluded that the voices were speaking English.

This only fueled her encouragement, as she begun to dig faster and the dirt walls crumbled away. Finally a dim light enveloped the pitch black that she had been in for all those hours.

She was free.

And then she was thrown against a wall, she struggled against the strong force as her head cracked against a wooden support beam.

She was panicking and this only intensified when she spotted the glint of a silver blade.

She just had time to move her body slightly to the left before the knife plunged into her shoulder. She screamed out in pain.

“I’m fucking English!” She shouted, “Stop!”

The man’s blue eyes had been filled with confusion and frantic frenzy. She could have fucking swore she recognised those eyes.

“Why you wearing a fuckin’ German uniform then?” A different man who was pointing a gun at her head spoke up.

“Look if you go through the tunnel you’ll find 47 dead Germans.” She stammered, “I killed them- there’s also an allies plane, it’s mine I was shot down.”

The men seemed to confer with eachother as they decided to take the trek and see if their ‘captive’ was being truthful.

The next time she woke up she was in a bed, bandages wrapped around various parts of her body.

Her entire body ached and it was only when a nurse entered the room that she realised she was in a hospital room.

The nurse informed her of the injuries she’s had, a shattered kneecap, 3 bullet wounds, a stab wound to the shoulder, and gash in her thigh, a near cracked skull.

And yet the thing that hurt most wasn’t physical, it was the news that she had been honourably discharged from her airforce squadron.

She felt worthless, like all her effort and time that she had invested was just gone.

She had written to John and Harry, explaining what had happened and how she felt unsure of the future.

And then she was shipped off to a rehabilitation centre for recovering soldiers. It was nice to get some time away- where she could learn to walk properly and to heal up.

“What the fuck do you mean?”

“Miss Fenton, please sit down.”

“It’s Sergeant!”

“Sorry, Sergeant Fenton, Please sit down.”

“You’ve taken everything from me!” She cried, “and your biggest issue is that I’m not sat down?”

“We apologise. It just isn’t appropriate to give you an award for your services.”

“My services? It was not my job to become partially disabled and to nearly get killed.” She began to rant, “You said this would be over by Christmas years ago! And here you all are, sat in comfy offices. As we’re fighting for our country and laying down our lives only to you not giving give a shit!”

“That is enough!”

“It is the fucking truth- and you would be shot for cowardice!”

“We are going to ask you to leave.”

“Gladly!”

It was the letter that arrived two weeks later, that letter was the needle that broke the horses back- the letter that informed her that Thomas Shelby, her saviour, had received extra medals for her services.

Harry woke up to the screams again, Eliza wasn’t coping at all. And it broke his spirit to see his little sister struggle like this.

Eliza was beginning to lose sleep as well, she was beginning to lose her functioning side of logic.

That became apparent when John ordered a drink at the bar and it was apparent that Eliza had not heard him.

“Liza?” John waved his hand in front of her face.

Eliza finally came back into the present. It was obvious that she wasn’t sleeping well as the dark circles under her eyes popped out and the pale shade of her skin made her look ill.

“You look shit.” John said bluntly

“I can’t do this anymore- I’m not sleeping, I’m barely functioning.” She began to tear up.

John took her out from behind the bar and took her to the private room, so that his friend could cry in her own space.

She sobbed as John held her frame, he put her on his lap as he rocked them both in an attempt to calm Eliza down. It barely worked but soon enough her heavy sobs were replaced with quiet sniffles.

“Talk to me Liza.”

“It’s Tommy- I’m falling for him and I can’t stop myself.” She sighed and rubbed her face, “but the fucking history between us.”

“What history El?”

She began to unbutton her blouse as she pulled down the fabric to show the old stab wound that ran along the junction between her shoulder and collarbone - It was long and jagged and it stood out against the milky skin.

“He was the one in the tunnel that night, the one who attacked and stabbed me.” She shook violently, “I’m falling for him but every time I look into his damn eyes all I can see is the knife and the pain.”

John just kissed her head, as his own tears began to spike at his eyes.

The door flung open, Eliza didn’t realise how wrong the position they were in looked. What with her hair messy and her button undone all while being sat on John’s lap.

It became even worse when she realised who had just walked in. It was Tommy. He looks furious and betrayed.

“So this is why we couldn’t be together Aye?” He spat, “Because you’re whoring around with me brother. You’re a fuckin’ slag Eliza.” He turned and left as Eliza frantically scrambled to her feet in an attempt to explain.

But it was too late, he had left.

She’d added another injury to her list in that moment- fucking heartbreak.

#cross my heart #tommy shelby x oc #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby #thomas shelby #thomas shelby x oc #thomas shelby x reader #Peaky Blinders #PeakyBlinders #peaky fookin blinders

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nyrator · 3 years

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another long vent post about depression/anxiety

extremely depressed tonight

first made the mistake of driving myself to the grocery store at 6pm, first I had to try scraping the ice off the windshield with nothing but a broom and bare hands, then driving itself was nightmareish, the car feels like a death trap to me, very loose and sloppy compared to my last car, so loud and uncomfortable with no audible music to calm my nerves. My eyes have worsened to the point where I can’t see anything at night- glare takes up my whole vision, even with anti-glare shades. I was driving well below the speed limit the entire time and still almost hit three pedestrians who were all recklessly out on the roads in all black for whatever reason. My nerves are completely shot from it, my chest feels like I’m in a vice and can’t breathe, my eyes are wide open and hunched over the steering wheel, and my body feels both like I’m about to wet myself at any moment and that I’m too stiff/tense/frozen to function as a human at all, it’s that fight-or-flight response at its extreme. Meanwhile, my skin must be weak- my knuckles bleed when driving, and my wrists bled just from carrying in bags of groceries.

then getting home and just dealing with personal drama of someone I know who is so depressed and self destructive and too smart to reason with, who refuses/is unable to seek professional help, who just doesn’t understand or just can’t help venting to me nonstop, no matter how much I beg them not to over and over- their life is so terrible that suicide seems like the only option to them, and I don’t want them to do so, but I can’t keep suffering like this either and I feel like the only thing preventing them from doing so, as poor a job as I do as a human being anyway. But I can’t help them if they can’t help themselves, even if they were just ate a bit better, or just had a journal or someone anonymous they could talk to, but it seems inescapable and impossible to change anything and all we do is argue over it until I snap at them to leave me alone. That person is probably reading this right now and probably hating it, but I doubt anyone on this site even knows who they are.

Tuesday morning, I couldn’t sleep at all from anxiety- it was so severe and inescapable, I laid in bed for four hours feeling like I was dying until I was finally able to sleep for two hours. I can’t seem to stay asleep longer than two hours anymore. Was supposed to hang out with friends that day, but between lack of sleep, depression, and my absolute terror at driving in a snowstorm, I ended up just staying home.

Anxiety has gotten so bad again. I know a lot of how the mechanics work behind it, I know a lot of pains are from tension and lack of breathing. But my old coping mechanisms don’t work anymore. I can focus on breathing for several minutes straight and then fall right back into suffocating. Music, counting things, meditating, none of it helps anymore.

One way to describe the feeling of anxiety- it’s kind of like when you fall asleep on your arm, and you feel all the blood rushing back into it and that tingling sensation. Imagine that, maybe a bit less, but throughout your entire body (especially chest), your body is stiff and not numb, and your entire body is vibrating or shivering/shaking or something.

I still spend 16+ hours laying in bed every single day. When I got home from shopping, the walking around (and the stress of driving) was enough to send me straight to bed, I was so tired and weak. It’s probably why I don’t sleep properly, I’m half awake in bed all the time, what need is there for sleep

I have mail I haven’t opened, taxes I still have to do, messes to clean, and don’t care for any of it. Can’t even talk about some things I’ve been doing to myself out of spite or general depression, the way I’ve been abusing. I promise to try not to do anything too crazy or directly harmful, but even then I worry about slipping up- I tried one thing I shouldn’t talk about, which wasn’t too serious, but still seriously concerning how easy it was to try doing

still haven’t contacted a therapist, my fear of calling someone is so strong I can’t overcome it, especially not after just waking up. Talked to some friends, some agree that I should, at least one thinks it’s a waste of time and money- up to $125 per session to just get a glorified phone call thanks to covid restrictions. I just don’t see the point if I’m still stuck in my apartment at my computer, especially if I have an internet addiction already.

The lack of doing anything is driving me insane, I think. I’ve played four single player games in 2020- ACNH, KH MoM, Panel de Pon, and Picross. In terms of things watched on my own, probably just Japan Sinks and whatever else was on Netflix the few months I had it. Don’t feel motivated to play or watch anything anymore, nothing seems interesting, and mostly just do things with friends if at all

Even ACNH, the game I play the most, I barely do anything in it- mostly just get new items from stores, that’s it. My island decorating has come to a hard halt, mostly because I barely have any furniture I’d like to embellish it with, and mainly because I have no ideas to layout most of it

I want to create, but don’t have the energy to make anything at all. Rotten Nyan is still my current goal, but anxiety has made it next to impossible to work on. I’ve tried several times the past few weeks, all met with failure- the anxiety’s too much, half the time I don’t even know what’s causing it, but my body just gets too tense and cramped without even doing anything, and I just can’t breathe at all while working on it.

Thought about making an omake comic for it, then realized what a terrible idea it was, and how hard it is to draw comics in general. Or anything in general. Wrote down the entire comic while laying in bed one day, went to draw it, was unable to, tried making it a yonkoma, gave up, and felt sick thinking of all the gross things in it that I just made a vent description of Middle Lave and just posted that to the RN tumblr instead.

I can’t think of any ideas, I feel like my art has regressed- I’ve taken more shortcuts for the sake of my hands tensing so fast from anxiety, and I’ve gotten decent at drawing middle Lave I feel, but anything besides a character standing is impossible for me- any environments or character interactions that I’d love to do just feel impossible, let alone my inability to write good ones. Anything I try to think of writing-wise always ends up the same gross content that burned into my memories that I just can’t feel comfortable talking about much at all, nor do I think it’s content people want to see at all.

There’s a lot of detailed kind of art I’d like to do. I kind of want to loosen my restrictions on myself and just draw whatever suffering I feel like, maybe once I use the RN twitter more I might get a little more courage to do so. I see many artists draw detailed scenes in single images, and no matter how hard I try, I just can’t capture that feeling.

Part of me feels torn about it being an autobiography for people to relate to, and being a suffering experience for people to find some weird enjoyment out of. I feel like I’ve lost sight of what it was originally meant to be and now just enjoy “bullying” Middle Lave half the time I guess, but unfortunately for me, bullying makes me feel like vomiting and is hard to draw consistently- maybe I’m too nice. I don’t know, I’m just rambling at this point. The comic is still laid out and just meant to explore the life of Lave, but it’s just so hard to work on.

In terms of other things, I have no idea what to do

Vtuber/streaming? Hate my voice, can’t focus on learning what I need for it in terms of rigging and texturing models. I only know the basics of making 3D things and nothing else.

Console art? I already designed all the ones I’m mainly interested in, but like I mentioned before, can’t think of any character interactions at all that I feel like drawing.

Making a game? I know 2k3 well enough to make anything in it event-wise, though never got over my map failings, and I can’t commit to anything long-term. Godot or another program, or programming in general? Good luck.

I just want to make something, work on a project without losing steam or letting anxiety prevent me from learning. Can’t focus on anything long enough to learn it- Japanese, making a game, programming, a new hobby, anything. I just don’t have the drive to do anything and will give up anything I even try to start, so what’s the point in even trying anything. I have books I haven’t read that I’ve been meaning to read for years, and still don’t have an ounce of energy to want to even organize them on their shelf, let alone open it

At the very least, I got my first big commission (second one ever), designing an OC for someone, and it’s going well, though tonight I’ve lost steam to finish it, and I hope I can get it back tomorrow to try to finalize it.

I’ve mentioned it before, but I really wish I just had someone guide me with art- I miss doing those 30 day challenge kind of things, or “send a number/emoji” kind of asks for OCs, but tumblr’s so inactive that I don’t see them on my dash anymore, and don’t know how to even look for them, especially not on sites like twitter these days. Though, the problem is, no one knows exactly what I like, and I feel awful letting people down if they ask for something I don’t want to draw

I can’t focus on exercise long term, and I’m so out of practice that exhaustion is too strong to beat. I’ve been trying to walk up and down on a step stool for exercise to get me back into basic movement, but even that’s too tiring. Want to do it while watching something, then I realize, I don’t watch anything at all, not even youtube, just an occasional artist stream that I mainly chat with rather than watch

I feel like I’m going to collapse if I turn or move too suddenly, and my eyes are absolutely terrible- glasses are okay, but without them I’m completely blind now- not just blind, but it’s like my eyes see at two different angles sometimes, like one is slanted or something, very disorientating.

It’s 7:30AM, and no desire to sleep at all. Terrified of laying in bed and letting anxiety take over me again. Part of me wants to become completely nocturnal and just avoid everyone during the day and just respond to messages in the AM hours, just wake up at midnight each day and avoid dealing with people. Go to sleep when everyone starts to get active and just isolate myself entirely from society.

I feel like I exist with no purpose whatsoever, and it’s driving me insane- not that life is meant to have a purpose, but I could at least be doing something more than laying in bed all day every day for a year

#text stuffs #nyrants

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pandoriasbox · 4 years

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Jade’s SSO Rambles - 3 Archaeology (Current System)

(Please keep in mind that these are my thoughts and opinions at the time of writing these rambles. I may change my mind in the future.)

Star Stable Online’s archaeology isn’t for everyone and that’s absolutely fine as it is a completely optional part of the game. However it does have a large impact on gameplay and not only because of Nic Stoneground and the AAE. It offers additional gameplay and a means of making shillings outside of the limited number of daily quests available. I also feel that if the game is expanded to include crafting that archaeology should play a large part in that and other future optional features. (I have some notes on ideas in the works that may link back to this but I won’t be covering anything in regards to potential future systems/mechanics and such in this particular post.)

Personally I love the idea of archaeology in SSO and I especially like how Epona’s archaeology functions. However the way the player is initially introduced to the archaeology system via Dino Valley feels incredibly outdated and I think it could be changed to better match Epona and improve the initial experience both to new players and the current digging experience for returning ones. I also have some notes on how Epona could be tweaked as well.

Also please note that there are technically minor spoilers in terms of Dino Valley/Epona and archaeology for those who haven’t unlocked these areas. (Nothing story wise though, just locations, names and game mechanics.)

Epona Praise

Epona has 4 collections and 4 areas you can find these items within. Each area is its own self contained section of Epona that doesn’t overlap with the others. This helps avoid confusion when hunting for specific collections and makes planning routes far simpler in my opinion. Each area has a “transition” between them such as the field and roads between Dews and the Marshes.

The layout of the dig sites and the general level design of each area is interesting to navigate without being excruciatingly frustrating. I do think that the Mirror Marshes and Shipwreck Shores could be improved (I will discuss this in my Epona suggestions) but once the player has established a route these are mostly negligible issues.

The available item pool from archaeology is relatively small and even with all the items filling your inventory stacked you still have 2-3 full inventory rows free. There are 4 collections with 4 items each, 4 junk items and 4 “interesting find” items. All of these make sense to find in Epona and the collections also give a hint to the history of Epona. In total if you had at least one of each item in your inventory it would take up 24 slots. I highly prefer the maximum of 4 junk items as this means I can repeatedly stack the junk to avoid taking up more space. I also greatly appreciate that only the tradable items can be pulled from golden dig sites and doesn’t include extra “valuable junk.”

While you can make a full run of Epona without having to stop and sell if you have 24 slots available the overall design of the region lends itself to doing so. There are two major areas you can go to for this, New Hillcrest and Crescent Moon Village both of which are located between major areas as transitions and optional pit stops in routes. Trailering is also really nice when it comes to planning routes as you can easily start at Wolf Hall Inn to begin with Dews or Crescent Moon Village to begin at Shipwreck Shores. There’s also the trailer at New Hillcrest for when you need closer access to Mirror Marshes or you want to turn in items for rewards to Chiron and Winterwell.

Overall I feel the pricing of the items picked up from Epona is pretty fair especially to end game players. At the levels where you unlock Epona there’s hardly anything the player is locked out of (besides due to reputation) and therefore the player often must pay the highest prices for apparel and tack. Epona gives end game players a means of grinding currency outside of the limited daily races and quests. For me personally I make most of my money off of Epona because I do work a full time job and I often only have time to run through the area on a semi daily basis to collect interesting finds and turn them in so I can sell the rewards for high shilling payouts. I think this is extremely fair for end game players and works perfectly with Epona’s archaeology. It is also optional and requires the player to hunt out each golden/interesting find dig spot across the entire map in order to earn it. Often meaning the player must plan a route and figure out how to navigate then adjust if they don’t run the full route. This also plays a huge part into why I personally love archaeology in the game as I adore more explorative features. (Such as hunting for stars, token photos and memories.)

Winterwell’s interesting find rewards I especially feel are well balanced both in how many you turn in as well as pricing. You have a chance of receiving higher priced items that could hit up to around 1,000-2,000 shillings or you can get something that is only worth 250-500 shillings. It’s a gamble and makes it so the player needs to keep hunting every day to find the interesting golden dig sites. I also greatly prefer the setup of having 2 single trade items and 2 double trade items. This means that the player has a 50/50 chance of getting something they can immediately turn in but also doesn’t clog up their inventory with 4 different items if you don’t find enough of each that day. In general Winterwell’s interesting find system and rewards feel far fairer and more interesting to me than Dino Valley’s.

I actually prefer the fact that after you get the Jones apparel the game won’t let you turn in items again to Chiron as it means I can simply chose to either skip or sell all of the excess items I receive from Epona. (I think if it were tack instead it should unlock the ability to buy additional ones after the first freebies.) I also really appreciate that both Chiron and Winterwell are within New Hillcrest and don’t require me to go outside of Epona or even the general area to turn everything in after I’m done.

Epona Suggestions

When Epona is updated I would love to see some adjustments made to the overall model/terrain and movement flow of the Mirror Marshes especially and to a lesser extent Shipwreck Shores.

The Mirror Marshes while it is supposed to be somewhat difficult to navigate should keep the actual digs arranged to allow for routing without too much trouble to players who are familiar with the area. I personally think adding more “underwater land bridges” would greatly help avoid water slow down (if this isn’t fixed in some other way.) There are some throughout the rivers and such where the player isn’t slowed down but I think some more mindful placing would be nice in terms of directions players will naturally move between dig spots. Or could do fallen logs if the collision isn’t difficult to path over. I would also avoid making dig spots that are extremely far out of the way. For example I have a problem with the current layout when it comes to the single dig spot over by the Moon Spring as there’s no natural reason to go in that direction.

Shipwreck Shores actually works fine as is since you can run through it with minimal getting stuck in the bigger holes thanks to the race course. However I feel it’s worth mentioning as the race course will likely get a change if the area does. Overall I like the idea of Shipwreck Shores being this location that may have once been underwater and now we’re moving over this jagged terrain that gave it its name. However I think the team can definitely adjust it so there’s less painful collision and getting stuck in holes while maintaining this feel and keeping a reasonable digging route.

For all areas of Epona (and Dino Valley) I think that the dig spots should be relatively in plain sight. Brush shouldn’t be mostly or partially covering them and placement should avoid having the spot in a very open area that makes it extremely difficult to find. It’s one thing where you go in a straight line between a few dig spots (like in the Mirror Marshes) but another to find those two dig spots in the red/pink dino bone area that are by the portal and tree amongst the dead brush/brambles. I’m not opposed to making it a little more difficult to spot in terms of a cursory glance, it’s fun to hunt down everything but it shouldn’t be difficult to spot when you know where to look. (Unlike the Dino ones I mentioned.)

There appears to be a bug with the coins received from Winterwell where sometimes they are called “Weird Object.” I might actually submit a bug report on this but thank you Cen for bringing this up.

Dino Valley Suggestions

Dino Valley in general I feel needs to be updated to match Epona as a bare minimum. A large part of the issues with it will likely have to be addressed with an entire update to the whole area. However I think the team should focus first on adjusting the item pools, payout and turning items in until they are able to do more with the entirety of Dino Valley.

Item pools should have their “junk” reduced down to 4 items max and should remain related to the valley’s history. I could see items such as dino eggs, used up kalter stone, ice crystal and broken pickaxes making sense. I would avoid using too many human tools or other items personally.

The golden “interesting find” sites need to have only the 4 tradable items available to be pulled from them instead of a chance of random higher paying junk. I would like to see the counts for trading these items match Epona’s 2 single and 2 double as I think this is better for inventory management and player interest/game feel. I’d also replace the tradable items with things that make more sense. At the very least I just don’t like having to turn in so many cellphones and action figures I dig out of the ice in a closed off valley that wouldn’t make sense to hold those. It’s really more of an immersion/lore nit pick.

Overall I think pricing should be adjusted for how much items in Dino are worth but this is something the team would need to decide the balance of based on the level the players who access Dino are at. Overall Dino doesn’t currently lend itself as well to regular archaeology like Epona does and I think that’s fine right now both as an early archaeology area as well as for grinding money for earlier leveled players. But I do think having it is a good boost for shillings grinding before players can access Epona. I would imagine most (non-end game) players who have access to Dino will be making a large amount of shillings from actual main/side quests instead of purely from world wide dailies like end game players do.

Small note on the dig sites I actually think the snow effect on them should be removed and the normal not gold interesting find ones should be more blue (like Epona’s) or otherwise made more noticeable for players. The current color scheme of Dino Valley makes it difficult to make the dig spots out against the ice/snow/rock that they are usually hidden against.

In general I would move many of the dig sites to more reasonable locations such as taking the ones off of the dangerous cliff side beside the elevator or in harder to reach (semi hidden is fine) areas such as the one you must fall down to get to the dig spot on the semi secret side path towards Icengate. If it’s possible to adjust the dig sites so they all have their own individual areas with transition points using the current appearance of the world that would be preferable but I wouldn’t expect it before a proper full terrain/area update. (The only area I think that works mostly well right now is the red/pink bone area. It could be tweaked a lot but I like how it’s sectioned off properly.)

I would like to see Professor Jura moved to Nic’s Camp so you can turn bones in right away in the same place as the interesting finds guy.

Update the Dino Valley dig site expression of “Nearby” vs “Close to” so it matches Epona’s. (Epona has it where nearby=junk, close to=collectable/tradable items.) Technically you could do the opposite and update Epona’s to match Dino since I guess Dino came first, it really doesn’t matter which as long as they match.

I made some notes in my Quality of Life UI rambles post as well, basically I would like to see it where when completing a dig there is no pop up pausing the player. It should do the items flying into your inventory and the shillings and rep you receive will float up and disappear much like after you turn in a race.

This may require a large inventory update/overhaul but I would like to see the game stacking items automatically in your inventory when you receive more than one of the same item. I’d also prefer this being implemented after we can remove items from a stack just in case.

I will have additional thoughts on the game’s archaeology system in the future and I plan on elaborating further on it in regards to potential new features as well as Dino Valley and Nic Stoneground. However I wanted to do a rambles post specifically about the current archaeology system and how I would like to see it upgraded before any new systems are introduced (or before updates to Nic’s quests and the terrain.) I also feel it’s important to point out how Epona has greatly improved not only the general archaeology experience but also the end game for players.

Again thank you for taking the time to read through this! If you have any thoughts of your own or questions feel free to reblog, reply or shoot me an ask!

#jaderambles #sso #sso talk #archaeology #archeology #3 #dino valley #epona #game mechanics #mechanics

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shockpop · 4 years

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being a textbook overthinker is a strong suit denki is not particularly known for . a head regularly presumed empty has worked to incessantly churn the argument on playback over the course of three days , violet staining crescents beneath his eyes at some point between the late - night mumbling and a time wherein he doesn’t even remember falling asleep . his oh - so - gracious host is left at a loss when she is forcibly tasked with shoving him awake each morning .

as much an empath as mina prides herself in being , it ain’t exactly a cakewalk to get into a neurotic’s mindset when he’s the one insisting that he’s fine , that everything is fine ; practiced charisma a much - appreciated plus in attempts to persuade his longtime best friend that he just needed a little breathing space from the situation . because that’s what they have to call it , now . ‘ the situation ’ .

this was all before denki proceeded to peel himself from eyesore - chartreuse cushions an hour late each day , and the reason why mina now harbors heavy concern beneath the initial irritation as she beats him awake with a pillow for the third day in a row .

astonishingly enough , through all the budding bruises and little cricks of his bones , denki’s still not used to it ---- confused as to why in place of a fluffy orange butt sat directly on his face is a firm pink hand , squishing freckled cheeks that’d never quite lost their baby fat .

the phone promptly shoved in his face ( raw - eyed , drool - sticky , red where strong fingers have imprinted themselves into his skin ) reads 7:12 am , a good hour and some past his normal wakeup time . he shouldn’t be so pikachu - meme shocked when this scenario is the direct result of a profuse refusal to take the device off silent mode these past few days ---- afraid to wake up to any late - night texts or calls .

and yet here he is , eyes squeezing shut as he mutters his third , grumbly shit this short week .

❛ seriously , dude ? ❜ mina chides as she flips through the unsung alarms , each set five minutes apart from one another beginning at 5:30 in the morning .

getting himself out of bed always had been something of a chore , emphasized by recent reasoning that he’d not been catching more than half a wink prior to that exact time each day . ❛ you teach people for a living and yet remain willfully oblivious to the very accessible , very convenient do not disturb function . ❜

she lets the phone fall unceremoniously onto denki’s lap , cushions creaking beneath their weight . ❛ get off my couch , spud . ❜

he’d love to , actually . every node in his spine pops in agreement .

the minutes between then and hurriedly collecting stray pieces of clothing off the floor pass in a rheumy - eyed blur , other possessions that’re repeatedly tripped over a courtesy of the emergency overnight bag he’d emptied out over the week . kept in the back of his car for situations that call for it , this doesn’t really qualify as one of those times .

❛ hey . what’s the status of you reevaluating your life choices so that you’re not crawling out my door late to work in the same inside - out v - neck you’ve been wearing all week ? ❜ mina prompts in midst of tossing on a jacket as gaudy in design as the rest of her , somehow completely comprehending what vague semblance of shut up , shut up , shut up denki conveys through hand gestures in between hurriedly scrubbing his teeth .

without time to style his hair this morning , he’s left to ruffle through the unkempt locks in his reflection through the elevator doors , displeased in how they refuse to obey any law of gravity but deciding that he might as well just go ahead and look as shitty as he feels . hurts less to acknowledge it himself before mina eagerly relays just how divorced he looks mere moments later .

❛ you’re gonna have to talk to him eventually , ❜ she reminds him just before they part , chaste kiss pressed to either cheek and equally reciprocated . ❛ before it’s too late . i know you’re both pretty keen on letting things fester , but how ‘bout you just nut up before your idiot boy pride makes things completely irreversible ? ❜

at her humble suggestion , denki mulls on the air of an amused hum , shouldering open one of the glass doors for her to walk through first . ❛ my idiot boy pride , huh . s'a little misandristic , don’tcha think ? ❜

she replies with a wag of her middle finger in the air behind her , a stark gesture that bakugou would appreciate and that denki hates thinking that bakugou would appreciate . he silently curses mina once for the reminder , then again for her uncanny talent of always being right .

on that note , he mentally checks ‘ idiot boy pride ’ as a contender for the working title of an eventual autobiography .

lunch passes by a lot more slowly in the days he’d been forcibly weened off of bakugou’s cooking . left to survive off what loose change could nab from the vending machines outside and random snacks found throughout the cabinets of the teachers’ lounge , denki finds that whey milk and loose granola by the fistful are not all that amazing a combo .

mina is wise beyond her years . this is a meal of a divor - fuckin’ - cee .

actually , the sudden absence of a balanced diet may even be reaching the point of a pressing health issue . when he brushes granola grains off his shirt ---- now worn correctly , after having uncomfortably fumbled with it in his car earlier ---- he notices how tight his chest has begun to feel over the course of the morning . an ache like a scream that won’t come out . he’s bound , yes , ��and dry granola has probably not made the trip down his esophagus very easy ; but had the pain always been so prominent ?

❛ didja check twitter yet ? refresh your timeline ---- look , see , it’s trending ! ❜

denki’s attention piques , turning towards the flood of students rushing by the lounge door . on their way back to their classrooms to ride out the last few periods of the day , he’s not surprised to see so many of their eyes glued to their phones as they walk , given that lunch and homeroom make up the only two slots of time wherein students are allowed access to such devices .

their conversations spill in a slew of muddled topics : is the villain big ? how’d you do on that art history exam ? shouldn’t he have backup? my sister’s taking me to that new poke bowl restaurant tonight . is he breathing ? cats can doggy paddle , can’t they ? blasty’s a top - five ! indestructible ! i hope i have a team one day . but so was jeanist , and look what happened to him .

❛ bla ---- ❜ denki starts , sparing a few minutes heading back himself to fish his phone from his cardigan . he’s usually never without it , idly recalling a time in their youth where bakugou would have to manually pluck it from his grasp so that he’d settle into bed for the night . over the past few days , though , he's been more than content to break character and distance himself from the buzz of social media under some years - too - late guise of self - care and breaking addiction .

waking his phone now , the top notification banner reads a single message from his current roommate .

are you ok?

below it , an informal update from twitter , alerting him of exactly what his curiosity demands to be sated with right now .

trending in heroics : #BLASTYEXPLODO .

he doesn’t need a little shoulder mina angel to tell him that reading about his ex is technically just the time - sensitive equivalent of purposefully sifting through bakugou’s online presence ; mostly because the app is barely flicked open when the tightness across his chest constricts to a sudden , sharp PANG .

it doesn’t take some deep search to unearth the context of his students’ obsessive chattering nearby , considering that his entire timeline is being consistently updated with live footage from the scene . a bird’s - eye view of the site below captures where several heroes can be spotted as moving dots along the destruction of the outskirts ; all save for one , reported to have been caught in the fray after a building collapsed .

fingers press deep into the pain of his chest . his shoulder hits the wall to support his weight , face paling as he forces himself to read the oncoming slew of tweets one by one . a lot are unhelpful ---- mere wishes for blasty to hang in there , some questioning where he is , false memoriam by people denki knows bakugou’s never met , lots of clickbait for merch and inappropriate thirst posts layered in between .

nothing gives him a solid answer . because nobody has a solid answer .

lacking the word association necessary to properly reply to mina’s text without stirring either concern or cause for a possible lecture , he shoots something quick to kirishima instead .

hey man , thanks for everything lately . i’ll feed the cats tonight . can you do me a solid and leave a key ?

the car ride home is as long as ever in traffic surrounding the incident . every instance of a top hero barely escaping the brink of death is all but a grim reminder that life is short , speaking volumes to average citizens rushing home to spoil their families before everything settles back into a regular , non - life - threatening routine for them tomorrow .

shortly after lunch ( and trying to shake off what he was certain were signs of a small heart attack ) , denki decided that there was no use cutting his day short to make an appearance at the scene . rapid updates from twitter and associates alike informed him that blasty had eventually made it out on two legs , triumphant as ever , before being escorted to an unspecified hospital in order to avoid the public eye in his recovery .

denki takes his chances in calling his mom between catching every red light , hope breaking in a small , audible whimper when she doesn’t answer his one - or - nine calls . bakugou wasn’t the only victim in today’s events ; he rationalizes that nariko is probably up to her neck in new admissions regardless , but the thought doesn’t exactly bring him any peace of mind .

breathe . an impossible demand to meet , but one necessary to keep his electricity from snapping at the wheel .

he doesn’t exactly know why he’d even bothered showing up , sluggish steps treading the long lengths of tiled hallway leading to bakugou’s residence . not really any use hanging around an empty apartment all night ; even despite the pressing matter of the question mark tacked behind his current living situation . he’s not really looking to task himself with packing just yet .

❛ it’s just something , ❜ denki tiredly tells himself aloud at the foot of their doorstep , head tipped to the ceiling in a brief moment of reprieve . the sentiment resonates as somewhat redundant . it’s always something . he’s got a million somethings in his life that he’s never cared to name , piling one over the other in the corner of his mind without thought to the mental repercussions dealt to everyone involved .

maybe there’s only one something afterall . maybe the common denominator was just him .

tip of his shoe peels back the corner of the mat he’d insisted on laying there some short while ago , the key tucked beneath it shining in the hallway lighting once its cover is disturbed . bless his heart , but kirishima’s not very creative in his hiding places .

this copy is as shiny and unbroken - in as the one bakugou had given denki when he first moved here , spare a few spots of dirt he brushes off before lodging it into the keyhole .

without a set of miscellaneous dangling objects attached to it , the action of turning a bare key into the lock takes him back a full year ago ---- wherein he’d rigidly haunted this exact spot on a matless tile , uneager to begin a new phase in his life eventually titled reversed strength .

unlike back then , however , the key is met this time around without resistance in its lock , nothing to combat it as it turns . the door before him is open . presently .

his stomach drops .

hesitant to ease himself inside when so actively adorned in hair - raising suspicion , denki is met with the usual stagnancy of an empty apartment ---- no wafts of food cooking on the stove , no sound of the television on for background noise , no cats tripping over each other to greet him with a howling demand for kibble and petty - pets ( which smarts a little , considering his absence ) .

there is dim warmth from sunlight pouring through the windows and little else . not even a speck of dust found to sift through it . he wonders if kirishima had simply forgotten to lock the door behind him .

and yet , even with this thought in mind ---- this silent prayer ---- denki still holds a name on his tongue as he steps fully into the apartment , pocketing the key where its triplet sits unperturbed a few feet away . it’s a momentary struggle to find his voice , and he doesn’t recognize the sound that comes out .

❛ k ------- ... katsuki ? ❜

@blstys .

#blstys #ii . reversed strength .#v : pro hero .#mom holy FUCK

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maddiviner · 5 years

Text

Esoteric Empathy Rant

Probably a lot of you have seen @edhellenarn‘s post about esoteric empathy and the necessity of empaths staying in their own lane, so to speak.

I wanted to just make a separate post to add a bit of my own thoughts. Suffice to say, I agree with most of what the OP is saying, but there is more that can be said, as well, concerning the modern “empath” identity trend as it has developed over the years.

The main problem I have with a lot of folks who self-identify as empaths is, well... they seem to lack empathy, and will often minimize other people’s trauma and/or attempt to invalidate the perspectives and experiences of others.

By “lack empathy,” I mean that they usually are very preoccupied by the alleged “suffering” their “gift” causes them, unwilling to listen to possible solutions, and generally turn things into a pity Olympics, especially on social media sites like Facebook.

I had one lady in a group go on at length about how her empathy was so strong that she couldn’t leave her house, even to take out the garbage, because the pain others caused her was so great, despite all the crystals she’d gotten to help her ground herself.

When I suggested maybe she should consider cognitive behavioral therapy in lieu (or in addition) to the crystals and try to get herself to a better place, she made a separate post implying that I was an “inauthentic” person and a “psychic vampire” trying to feed off of her by having the gall to suggest she might need someone to talk to like that.

It’s weird because I wasn’t sealioning or anything - I genuinely thought my comments might be helpful. I mean, I have certain empathic abilities myself and CBT really helped me cut through a lot of stuff in order to hone them and become a better friend to those I care about.

Oh yes, “psychic vampires,” the favorite topic of the empath world. That and “narcissists,” even though most of these people know fuck-all about psychology or what NPD even is.

I was in one group on Facebook for a while, just for empaths, and almost every single post was someone going on about all the evil narcissists in their life.

Oh, their spouse is a narcissist! And it turns out their boss is, too, and the mailman, and oh, they need to buy six more crystals to counteract this horrible assault.

I never tried it, but I’m pretty sure if I’d brought up that NPD is an actual mental illness (not some magic energy suck woo thing, either), I’d have been banned and probably declared to be a narcissist/vampire myself.

That seems to be the favorite tactic of a lot of the more toxic in the New Age psychic/empath community - “Anyone who questions me is a narcissist and therefore evil.”

I’ll be honest, I don’t actually know that much about NPD, but I’m pretty damn sure a personality disorder doesn’t make someone a reprobate evil energy sucker or whatever.

I mean, sure, if someone in your life is acting toxic, you can and shoot evade them, regardless of whether they have a mental illness or not but... c’mon.

I don’t believe it when these folks claim every single person they disagree with, dislike, or interact with unfavorably is a “narcissist.” I mean, really, plenty of people with or without mental illness can be abusive; no reason to turn a personality disorder into some big bad woo bogeyman.

If anyone reading this knows a bit more about NPD, I’d love to get a perspective on this, because, like I said, my experience with personality disorders is limited and I’m no psychologist.

And plus, the whole thing just reeks of “spectral evidence” in a witch trial.

It’s basically, “Some people are evil, but I can tell they’re evil and warn people! Even if nobody else knows!” It’s pretty easy for someone who’s set themselves up as psychic to target their enemies by claiming to “sense” something that nobody else can prove.

On that note, some of the most cringeworthy moments I’ve seen have involved the “empath” identity folks trying to talk about mental illness. As I said, they seem to see NPD (and sometimes, any personality disorder) as some kind of evil woo-woo thing. To me? That’s asinine, completely.

When it comes to mood disorders like I have, they tend to write them off as “misdiagnosed empathy.” In fact, a lot of sites and blogs around the internet (less so on Tumblr) will whine about the evils of psychiatry and how it’s just an attempt to suppress the magical empath gift.

The thing is, none of the people saying this seem to understand what (for example) bipolar disorder actually is.

They seem to think it’s just moodiness or feeling sad sometimes. It’s kind of impossible to explain to them the realities of mania and depression because most people will never experience them.

And, if you use a bit of logic, you can easily see why (in most cases) bipolar disorder wouldn’t be “misdiagnosed empathy.” The mood states you see in bipolar are, by definition, neuroatypical.

They aren’t seen “in the wild,” in neurotypicals. It’d be impossible to experience a mania empathically from being around a bunch of regular people because regular people do not experience mania.

I guess that maybe if you’re an extremely strong empath and constantly around someone with bipolar, you might deal with blowback from their moods, but I doubt it because I don’t think most people’s neurology is even conducive to having those experiences. I’m no neurologist, though, and I could be wrong.

So yeah, I get tired of people telling me I just need to “ground, center, and shield” like a good lil empath, and how my meds are “dampening” my “gift.” I usually just change the subject whenever it comes up because it’s easier than explaining how mania and depression actually work.

I mean, if anything, those experiences seem to make me (might not be true for everyone) less able to read other’s emotions, because the low self-esteem that came with my depression just caused me to assume the whole world hated me.

So yeah. I think the “empath identified” community is in dire need of cleaning itself out a bit and reformulating how it approaches this kind of thing.

On Tumblr, there are many genuine people and many genuine empaths, and you barely see any of this kind of thing on here. Still, I’ve seen enough of it out in the world that I thought it was worth posting/ranting about.

At this point, I rarely dare even call myself an empath (even though I definitely have an esoteric empathy “thing” going on, particularly with animals) just because I don’t want to be associated with this.

That doesn’t mean the concept is irredeemable, though - there’s been a lot of good books written recently about empathy, managing and honing it.

I recommend almost all the works of Raven Digitalis on the subject (Everyday Empath and Esoteric Empathy), and, heck, a lot of “mundane” books on CBT and even DBT can help with improving your functioning and best using your gifts.

I hope this post isn’t too offensive to everyone - I just wanted to get this off my chest, since I’d been pondering it for a while.

#witchblr #witchcraft #witch #empath #empathy #occult #eliza.txt #rant #long post #facebook #magick #magic #psychic #psychic abilities #mental illness #bipolar disorder #narcissists #narcissism #personality disorders

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everamazingfe · 3 years

Text

You Can Ride On My Rocket 69 - Chapter Twelve

A Song About Strength

Chapter Summary: Jeremy faces a setback in the search for his husband, but Trevor finds some courage. This chapter's song is "Mighty Mighty Man" by Roy Brown.

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Words in this chapter: Pairings: Jeremy/Trevor, Michael/Gavin/Lindsay, Jeremy/Matt Warnings for this chapter: Threats of violence, blood, gun violence, gore. The end of this chapter gets a little violent/graphic.

Notes: There’s a link to the first chapter of this fic as the source of this post! Click it to go read this fic over on A O 3, or you can search up the title or ‘everamazingfe’ on the site!

Also, I won't be posting a new chapter on the 1st/2nd of April because I've been getting very bogged down by schoolwork, and I just don't have the energy for everything I want to do. The next chapter will be posted on the 15th/16th of April. See you then!

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When Trevor woke up the next morning, there was a moment of confusion before he realized where he was, and who he was next to. He was much warmer than he was used to being, but it wasn’t the unpleasant and sweaty warmth that came after a nightmare. It was comfortable and made him feel safe. Until he cracked an eye open, he had no idea that the source of it was Jeremy. They had their arms wrapped around each other loosely and their legs tangled together, the other man’s head tucked beneath his chin as he snored softly. The sight made him smile, though the sound kicked off a headache. He squeezed his eyes shut with a soft groan, holding Jeremy tighter. Maybe if he just ignored the pain, he’d be able to go back to sleep. The sun was only just starting to rise, Diamond City wasn’t far, and Geoff probably wasn’t going to be expecting them for a while. He had time.

Besides, Jeremy was still sound asleep. As far as he knew, it was the first restful sleep either of them had gotten in months. He wasn’t about to do anything to disturb that. So he settled in again with ease, pulling the blankets up over their heads to block out the beams of sunlight shining through the cracks in the plywood.

The Rexford was still quiet in the early hours of the morning, the only residents bothering to be awake at this hour were some of the ghouls getting ready for early morning patrol shifts. They had enough common courtesy to keep quiet, though. As quiet as they could manage in a centuries old building that creaked with each minute movement, at least. The wood was half rotten and the glass had been knocked out of the windows by the bomb and by the weather, that was the case with every building in town, but the residents of Good Neighbor had worked hard to try and keep everything sturdy and functional. It was a good place to be. Some might even say it was more welcoming than Diamond City, particularly a certain radio host.

In addition to the neighborhood watch, another small group of people were awake in those early hours. But they hadn’t even gone to sleep yet, to be fair.

“I hope everything went well at the Den, Trevor seemed a little… I don’t know. Worked up when he came by?” Gavin asked, both Michael and Lindsay nodding in agreement as they lay together on the bed, tangled together and sprawled over each other in various ways. “Picked up a lot of beers for someone who doesn’t usually drink.”

“Maybe they were for Jeremy?” Lindsay pitched, lifting their head from Michael’s chest to look over at the other.

The bartender shrugged, sighing softly. “Hopefully not. Even for someone who does drink on the reg, that was a lot.”

“Would you both please… Shut up? They probably split them,” Michael muttered, running his fingers through Lindsay’s hair to get them to relax and lay back down. “We can ask tomorrow, right now some of us are trying to sleep.” He still tried to maintain some semblance of a sleep schedule, without one he got rather cranky, but his two partners loved to work against him on that front. Despite the two of them being regular humans, a lack of sleep didn’t seem to affect them.

Lindsay giggled, planting a kiss to his cheek before pulling their boyfriends close. “He’s right. We should. Bar’s gonna be busy tonight.” That wasn’t anything unusual, it was busy every night, but reminding Gavin that they had actual work to do usually did the trick with settling him down. Otherwise, he’d be throwing around hypothetical questions all morning long without anyone getting a wink of sleep. Michael had learned how to tune them out years ago, but Lindsay didn’t quite have that luck yet.

As the trio managed to go to sleep, a few floors away it was Jeremy’s turn to wake up. Instead of confusion greeting him, there was a moment of excitement as he thought he was waking up in his husband’s arms. The shitty old beds of the hotel felt exactly like the bunks they’d had to sleep in when they were deployed, the two of them squeezing onto a twin-sized mattress with springs that dug into their sides and creaked with every movement. There was even a fleeting thought, a hint of a memory that came to the surface in the moment of semi-consciousness before he was fully awake.

“Matt?” He asked, voice low and gravelly as he lifted his head only to see that the man who he was wrapped up in wasn’t his husband. It was Trevor. That realization was only somewhat disappointing. Still, he let out a sigh and laid his head back down on the pillows, pulling back from the other a little bit. If Trevor woke up, he didn’t want him to be uncomfortable. He didn’t know that the other had already woken up and was more than okay with their sleeping arrangement.

Jeremy stayed there for a while, alternating between looking at Trevor and the hints of sunlight peeking through the old wood that covered the windows. The dust danced around in the beams and made him dizzy. After a few minutes of that he sat up, gently reaching a hand out to touch Trevor’s shoulder and gently shake him awake. “Trev, wake up,” he murmured, smiling fondly as the other whined and stirred. “C’mon, got a busy day ahead of us. Can’t spend it all in bed.” Oh how he wished they could, though.

Trevor put up with the shaking for a few moments before he got fed up, knowing that Jeremy wasn’t going to be relenting and that there was no chance he was going to be able to sleep for even a few more minutes. “Okay! I’m up.” He swatted at the other’s hand, rolling onto his back and trying to adjust to the headache and the brightness of the room all over again. It was a lot more difficult the second time around. He groaned and scrubbed his hands over his face, trying to wipe away the headache. “Does this happen every time you drink?” He asked him, peeking up at him through his fingers.

He chuckled softly, shrugging a shoulder. “Kinda? You learn to ignore it after a while. Med-X usually helps some too, if I’m honest.” He had a bit of a headache, but nothing too bad though. “Water too, but… That’s in short supply these days.”

“When we get back to the city, we can stock up at Shen’s. But in the meantime, I’ll take that Med-X.”

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Diamond City was the same as it always was: the market was bustling and full of people, guards patrolled the streets or hung out at their posts, and the mayor looked out at it all from his office. Trevor noticed one very important thing once they were inside the city limits, though. Even with all the guards and people around, he just didn’t feel safe there, and it didn’t feel like home. Inside the Home Plate was a little different. The mayor couldn’t glare holes into the back of his head there and Ian, if he was even still alive, couldn’t get to him either. Out in the open he felt way too exposed.

Jeremy didn’t exactly feel safe there anymore either, constantly on high alert and keeping an ear out for the first sign of trouble. He was less concerned about his own safety, and more about Trevor’s.

With how busy the city was during the middle of the day, Jeremy was extra conscious of making sure Trevor didn’t end up lost in the crowd. He hadn’t even given it a second thought when he’d grabbed the other’s hand, guiding him through the crowd and keeping him close, not noticing what he’d done until they’d reached the detective agency.

“Hey there, boys!” Geoff greeted, clapping his hands together and grinning as the two walked through the door. He glanced at their joined hands and shared a look with Ellie, his grin turning to a knowing smirk before he steeled himself and cleared his throat. “You ready to go check out Kellogg’s place?”

Jeremy quickly took his hand out of Trevor’s, clearing his throat as well and wiping it on his pants. “Uh, yeah. Ready.” He knew that it wasn’t really anything to be embarrassed over, but that didn’t stop a light flush from rising to his cheeks. “I remembered something else, too… In case it’s helpful,” he added, and Geoff’s eyebrows rose as he waited for Jeremy to continue. “His name was-... Is Matt. My husband. His name is Matt.”

Geoff grinned at that, pulling out his notebook. “That is very helpful, Jeremy. It confirms that Kellogg’s our guy. That’s what he said his friend was named when he passed through, right Ellie?”

She nodded, typing something up on her typewriter and nodding. “That’s right, Matt Bragg. And he certainly matches the description you gave.”

“Then we’re on the right track. Let’s get going.”

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As far as Jeremy was concerned, Kellogg’s house was a bust. First, it had been locked up tight and virtually impossible to break into. The lock on the door was more complicated than any one he’d encountered in the wastes before. The only reason they’d gotten in was because of Trevor, and he didn’t want to know where he’d gotten that skill from. Then, anything useful was hidden behind a secret room that had been a real pain to get into, and there turned out to be nothing useful there at all. Some half burned cigars and empty beer bottles, but nothing that would actually tell them where he’d gone.

“San Francisco Sunlights… Kind of a rare brand around these days, they’re pre-war, but…” Geoff trailed off, picking up the cigar box and turning it over in his hands a few times.

“But?” Trevor asked, arching an eyebrow and looking towards Jeremy. The man was leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, eyes on the floor. His frustration was palpable and intense, and Trevor just felt bad for him.

“But unless you’ve got a sniffer dog, there’s not much more I can do for you.” Geoff sighed, passing Jeremy the box. “I’m sorry, Jeremy.”

He took the box, staring at it wordlessly. Tears welled up in his eyes, and he let out a huff as he shoved it away with the rest of his junk. “So that’s it?” He asked, lifting his gaze to meet Geoff’s eyes. “This is the end of the line? After all of that, after what I’ve been through, we’re just… Done?”

“There’s nothing else to be done, kid. You could ask one of the guards if they’d be willing to spare one of their dogs,” Geoff said, pausing and glancing at Trevor for a split second before his eyes were back on Jeremy’s. “But I don’t know if anyone would be willing.”

Jeremy balled up his fists at his side, closing his eyes and breathing hard. “Great. Just… Just great. Thanks for your help, Geoff. I’ll let you know if I find out anything else.”

“Happy to help,” he assured, waving the comment off before turning to leave. He paused next to Trevor, leaning in and whispering, “Don’t let him do anything stupid,” before walking out of the door.

It took Jeremy a few minutes to compose himself, but that didn’t happen before he punched the wall. “It’s not fair!” He shouted, oblivious to the way Trevor had backed away as the drywall dust clouded his vision. “We’ve been through so much! You put up with so much of my shit, we walked so far, and… And for what?” Shaking out his hand, he let out a frustrated huff. The outburst had helped, all of his anger fizzling away all at once into something heavier and harder to deal with. “Let’s just go home. Figure out what to do. Maybe find a dog.”

Trevor nodded, hesitating before stepping forward and offering Jeremy his hand. “Diamond City has a lot of strays,” he told him, giving his hand a squeeze when the other took it. He hated those sudden fits of anger, those moments where Jeremy lost his temper, but he didn’t know how to help other than being there for him. That was starting to get harder, though. “But going home sounds nice.”

They walked out of Kellogg’s house together, walking quickly away from the stands and back towards the market. The crowds had started to clear out, but there weren’t any less guards around. Diamond City took safety seriously, for some of its citizens at least. The rest were left to fend for themselves.

As Jeremy dug through his pockets for the key to the Home Plate, Trevor scanned the market. They’d have to stock up on supplies before they set up again, but who knew when that would be. Without being on the hunt for Jeremy’s husband, they didn’t have much reason to go out. As Trevor looked over the people, he locked eyes with someone through Takahashi’s stand. “Uh, Jeremy? Can you maybe… Find your keys a little bit faster?”

“I’m working on it, Trev, just… Give me a sec, I’ve got a lot of shit in my pockets.”

Trevor swallowed hard, not looking away from the man who was staring right back at him. He couldn’t. “Jeremy,” he said through gritted teeth, nudging him roughly with his elbow to get his attention.

“Trevor, what?” He snapped, whirling around to cut him a glare. But Trevor wasn’t looking at him. He followed the other’s gaze with a deep frown, letting out an, “oh fuck,” when he saw what had attracted his attention. “Shit. Okay, hang on.” He turned back to the door, pulling out his keys right as the man began to take steps towards them.

“‘Ey, Trevor! Jer’my!”

Jeremy rushed to unlock the door once he had his keys in hand, shoving Trevor inside. “You get anywhere within ten feet of his door, and I’ll blow your head off right where you stand!” He shouted, pulling out his pistol and aiming it at him for added effect.

“I just wan’ t’ talk!”

“Fuck you, Ian. You don’t deserve to even look at him, let alone talk to him,” he spat before slamming the door, locking it and shoving some furniture in front of it for good measure. “God, I wish I could set up turrets in here.”

Trevor was already sitting on his bed, pulling off his armor to tuck it away in the trunk at the foot of it. “You told me he was dead,” he stated simply, looking up at Jeremy before he got back to untying his boots. “Why did you lie?”

“I didn’t lie, I just… Didn’t know. I thought he was dead! I had hoped he was dead,” he confessed, sitting down on his own bed to start doing the same. He was quiet for a few moments, biting his lip in thought before he spoke again. “Do you want him to be?” He asked in a murmur.

Trevor paused, frowning. “I really can’t talk about this right now, Jeremy.”

“Right, right. Sorry. But the offer’s still there.” Maybe he should have some reservations about killing someone, but his time in the army had desensitized him to that, even two hundred years after the fact. Plus, in his eyes, it was worth it. It was only fair after what he’d done to Trevor.

“Maybe another time... You got anymore of those yao guai steaks? I’m starving.”

Jeremy chuckled and nodded, shucking off the last of his gear and throwing it into his trunk. “Yeah, lemme cook them up so you don’t get rad poisoning again.”

“It was one time! And you’re the one who didn’t tell me that it was pre-war food!” Trevor wrinkled his nose and grimaced. “That was the worst thing I’d ever eaten, though. I should’ve stopped after the first bite, but I was just so hungry.”

“Don’t worry, that’s not gonna happen again.”

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

In the morning as he sat on the edge of his bed, halfway through putting his boots on, Jeremy realized that priorities had shifted. Finding his husband was still very important to him, that hadn’t changed, but keeping Trevor safe had bumped that down to second place. Trevor was his first priority now. It felt like the shift had happened overnight because of how sudden the realization was, though in reality it had slowly been happening over the course of their time together. The latest setback had just been the catalyst.

“Do you have any plans for that loft up there?” Trevor asked, nodding towards the staircase from his own bed. When he’d been laid up from his head injury, Jeremy had worked on furnishing the place and making repairs, but the second floor loft had remained empty. Right then it served as a stopping point on the way up to the third level’s bathroom, but it felt weird empty like that.

The question pulled Jeremy out of his thoughts, and he hummed softly. “No, not really. Maybe just storage? I dunno.” He shrugged a shoulder. “Why?”

“I wanna move some of my radio equipment here. That space is bigger than my trailer, probably. It’d be perfect. But I don’t wanna impose.”

Jeremy shook his head quickly, putting a hand up to stop him. “Trevor, I got this place for us. You can do whatever the hell you want with it, alright? It’s just as much your place as it is mine. I’ll even help you move the stuff.”

“Really?” Trevor asked, his face lighting up. “Thanks, Jer.”

“Of course, Trev. Anything for you.”

He knew that was just a thing that people say when the favor wasn’t a big inconvenience to them, but for some reason Trevor felt like Jeremy genuinely meant it when he said that. It made him smile despite the butterflies in his stomach.

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

“Oh, this one’s a good one too! As soon as this song’s done, we have to listen to this one,” Trevor said, pulling a disc out of the filing cabinet and waving it around for Jeremy to see before setting it down on top of it. “Actually, fuck it, I’m putting it on now.”

Moving the equipment from the trailer to the Home Plate hadn’t really taken much time, but packing the discs away into boxes to bring them over too was taking forever. Each time he found a CD that had a track on it that he liked, Trevor had to stop and explain to him exactly why he liked it and all of the nuances of each lyric. As endearing as it was, Jeremy had really been hoping to get this done before sundown.

“Trev-” He’d started to speak, about to ask him to speed things up a little, but a knock on the door interrupted him. Both he and Trevor frowned, looking at each other in confusion, though the latter was frozen in place. He set down the box on the bed, shutting off the music and opening the door a little. “Oh, fuck no. No. Get the fuck out of here,” Jeremy spat, slamming the door shut, but a heavy boot jammed between it and the frame stopped it short.

Ian met his eyes with a wicked grin, and at the foot of the steps stood Mayor McDonough. The sight of Ian alone had made his blood boil, but realizing that the mayor was there with him had it running cold instead.

“Now now, Jeremy. We just want to talk,” the mayor said, his gaze going right through the man to look at Trevor who was peering out from behind him. “I thought I told you that Diamond City didn’t like troublemakers. But it seems like you’ve been causing more incidents than I originally thought.”

Ian shoved the door, making Jeremy stagger back. He used that opportunity to get the door open, letting himself and McDonough into the already cramped trailer. There had barely been enough room for himself and Trevor in there, but the space felt even smaller now. It made Jeremy’s breathing pick up, his heart pounding in his ears.

“Do you remember what I told you when you first showed up in my office, Mr. Dooley? I told you that you’d be escorted out of the city if you caused any more trouble. And what did you do? You went and hurt my favorite guard.” He took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh, shaking his head and clicking his tongue. “Such a serious crime cannot go unpunished, Mr. Dooley. And Trevor, I thought you knew better than to make any waves.”

“It’s not his fault,” Jeremy said, balling up his fists as he began to calm down enough to speak. The walls were still closing in around him, but he couldn’t afford to stay silent. Trevor couldn’t, either. He really wished that he’d thought to bring a gun. “Look, McDonough, whatever you’re gonna do, don’t loop him into this.”

“But he’s the whole cause of it. You both are a pox on this city, and if you don’t decide to leave it quietly, I’ll be forced to put my foot down and have you forcibly removed.”

“Aw, c’mon Mayor. I think tha’ we should let Trevor stay,” Ian laughed, and the mayor seemed to be considering it.

Neither of the men were looking at Trevor, they were hardly even thinking about him, he was just a way to taunt and torture Jeremy. But behind them, he could see the radio host moving towards his desk, and he had to work hard to bite back a grin. Though he’d been convinced that Jeremy wasn’t a synth, he knew that keeping a gun around for extra protection was still a smart idea. And what neither Ian nor the mayor knew was that Trevor had become a hell of a shot during his time in the wastelands.

“Nuh uh. Where I go, he goes. Either we both stay, or we both go. And since we’re so much trouble, I think we’ll both be going,” he stated, turning around to pick up the box and start packing away Trevor’s CDs again. It almost seemed like they were going to let him continue, but he huffed when he felt cold metal against his temple.

“Those are Diamond Ci’y property, mate. I suggest you put the box down and go, ‘fore we have t’ do anything rash. And take your pet radroach with you.”

A gunshot rang out then, the foam on the walls muffling the sound to the world outside, but not doing nearly enough to stop it from making everyone’s ears inside ring. McDonough shouted out in surprise and covered his ears, and Jeremy dropped the box to do the same. As he looked down to see where it landed, his eyes widened in surprise. Although he knew that this was going to happen, he still wasn’t prepared for what he saw.

Ian was nothing more than a crumpled heap on the floor, his face completely unrecognizable now. Jeremy could look through it and see the cracked tile beneath his head, and if he had any weaker of a stomach he probably would have thrown up. Already he was pretty close. Blood and brains were splattered along the wall and cabinets, some of it getting onto Jeremy’s clothing, but the majority of it had landed on the mayor, staining his tan suit red.

“I am not a radroach,” Trevor spat, the barrel of his pistol still smoking as he aimed it towards the mayor. “And we aren’t leaving Diamond City.”

McDonough began to beg, but Trevor no longer had his focus on him. Instead, he looked past him to Jeremy, who only gave a small nod of approval and stepped out of the way so he wouldn’t get splattered again. Another shot rang out, and the mayor joined Ian on the floor, the pair of them a mess of blood and limp limbs.

Jeremy stepped over the bodies, gently pulling the gun from Trevor’s hands and setting it down on the desk. “Are you okay?” The other man nodded slowly, though he began to tremble. “Go home. I’ll get the rest of your stuff. Do you have the key?” Trevor nodded again, digging it out of his pocket and passing it to Jeremy.

“We’re so fucked,” he whispered, laughing and running a hand through his hair. “Jeremy, what the fuck did I do?”

“You protected yourself.” He’d done what Jeremy himself had been too much of a coward to do, he was righting a very long series of wrongs. “I’ll take care of this, okay? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Trevor wasn’t so sure he agreed. Although at the same time, he didn’t feel like he’d done anything wrong. In fact, he was kind of happy about it. But the fear of getting caught and ending up like the pair on the floor was more overwhelming than anything else he was feeling, so he just nodded dumbly and walked carefully out of the trailer, trying hard not to step in any of the blood that was now pooling in the cracks of the tile.

Once the door was shut again, Jeremy pocketed the keys and hit play on the CD player, letting Roy Brown play in the background as he packed up the rest of the discs. The cabinets themselves would just have to wait there, he needed to get back to Trevor as soon as possible.

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