Star writing prompt 2010

Thought I'd share this for anyone looking for Gay Pride theme writing prompts thiis month:
Gay Pride/LGBTQAI+ Pride Month Daily Writing Prompt Challenge ❤️🧡💛💚💙💜💗♂️ ♂️ ♂️ link.medium.com/McBhGXtw4Jb A Month of Writing Prompts (Created for June 2024) ❤️🧡💛💚💙💜💗♂️ ♂️ ♂️
Enjoy!

Thought I'd share this for anyone looking for Gay Pride theme writing prompts thiis month:
Gay Pride/LGBTQAI+ Pride Month Daily Writing Prompt Challenge ❤️🧡💛💚💙💜💗♂️ ♂️ ♂️ link.medium.com/McBhGXtw4Jb A Month of Writing Prompts (Created for June 2024) ❤️🧡💛💚💙💜💗♂️ ♂️ ♂️
Enjoy!

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Ceele strolled through the damp grass along the outskirts of the village, a spring in her step and the dwindling scent of dew following behind. It rained yesterday, which had prevented her from going out to gather supplies, but the mild morning air had been accommodating enough for her to get an early start and make the trip. She was glad she did.
One hand clutched her new prize to her chest, while the other held a fraying wicker basket filled with herbs and some edible roots she gathered by exploring the forbidden forest. Despite her reservations regarding where she chose to go, her excitement now lingered like a steady thrum of shifting stones, giving her energy that defied how long she had been walking. She all but pranced beneath the burgeoning night's sky, gleefully toeing the line between the dirt pathways of the settlement’s outskirts and the trees of unclaimed land. Normally, her path back home would never be so close to the village, but she was far too gleeful to mind. She had come back with a sense of fulfillment and a rare object—or if not rare, then hopefully of great value.
It was hard to point to any one specific reason that she came across the orb. There had always been a ‘draw’ during her travels, urging her that there was something missing in her life, yet it was no more than a mild whim to walk in a particular direction more often than not. Once she reached this part of the continent, she was compelled to wander, never quite able to explain why she obliged the sensation besides having nowhere in particular to be. Even when she finally settled somewhere, it stayed in the back of her mind, suggesting that she was close to whatever would make the pit of vacancy go away. She ignored it, purposefully distracting herself with her work and responsibilities, yet that could only last so long. When she awoke this morning with plans to resupply, and all of her newfound spots had been picked clean by wildlife, she turned to the depths of the forest where she was warned not to tread. It was all too easy to follow the subtle tug in her chest through the loose justification.
The urge to be somewhere grew unbearable with every step closer to the forbidden area. That sense of having a direction she needed to go became stronger and stronger, until she was well into land long since forgotten. She came across an overgrown depression in the hillside, and was entranced by the foreboding image. Something about the cave just…beckoned her. She was far too weak to resist.
Horrible tales echoed into her ears as whispers of fearful voices, warning and unending, yet but a dull drone compared to her hammering heart. She navigated the trees and brushed aside unkempt vines, stepping into the cavern with a mix of expectation and trepidation, then laid eyes on the small obsidian stone perched atop a crumbling pillar. The feeling of needing to travel somewhere…stopped.
The pull was absent, which was why she held the orb close instead of placing it into her basket. She wasn’t sure what it was exactly, but she recalled overheard tales of hidden gemstones, deep cavernous expanses, and the untold terrors that lay within. Comparing the scenes of those fables to the cave seemed foolish now; it wasn’t some torturous chamber, but a dusty depression in a small hillside. Besides, anything this pretty was sure to be worth a fair sum, and she needed the coin. Yet the thought of selling the precious-looking stone was a conflicting one. She shook off the thought for the time being, turning her attention back towards where she was going.
Shadows stretched and faded as the moon stole the last of the illumination afforded by the sun, replacing it with a calming glow that caressed the log frames and thatched roofs of various homes. A star-filled sky came into prominence as clouds lazily drifted away, revealing the promise of tomorrow’s fair-weathered arrival. It was too late for anyone to notice her treading on the edge of their town while lost in thought, but she was still careful not to get too close to the houses or livestock pens where people might be finishing the evening’s duties. It was best that they didn’t see her returning from a place she was told not to go. Still, her feet carried her near the dwellings as she took in the noises.
Ceele enjoyed the comforting chatter from a distance. Indistinct words floated freely. Meaningless gossip and warm goodbyes were exchanged between friends and family. Places of various occupations were dark and quiet, only the faint contented mewls and clucks of livestock coming from their pastures as they ate what was recently put out for them. No metal rang throughout the streets as it was struck inside a centralized smithy, no heated bartering came from an overactive trade house, and the crunch of dirt beneath transport or merchant wagons was absent, replaced by the rapid steps and yelps of children rushing to their homes before it got too dark out. It was all just gentle conversation and life drifting through the wind, taking the rustle of leaves along for the ride, just so she could hear it. Tranquil, in a word.
She wondered what it would sound like if she were yet one more voice within that crowd of kindness. Would it be loud like the larger cities? Would she struggle to maintain a thought with so many stray topics floating about? Would she once more yearn for the peace and quiet of solitude that she had grown used to, or would she immerse herself, free of judgment and laughing like the carefree young that scampered about? Did thinking about it even matter?
Her smile fell from its genuine intensity—still worn, but not as fully. She glanced downward as her stride lost its jubilant bounce, her tail losing its sway as her grey eyes examined the dry black scales that adorned her body against her wishes. It was the ugly hue of tarnished oil, unlike the skin of any other kobold she had met. Some had reds or greens, yellows or whites, while most were between a sandy tan or earthen brown. The rainbow of peculiarities was displayed by the lucky few, and she was one of them…
…Yet she was different in the worst of ways.
Even if she would rather any other colour, she supposed it was that way to make sure no one came near without accepting the unspoken risks. That was what her mother always said, anyway, though the woman hardly feared much of anything in her old age, and dedicated herself to giving her offspring all the love she had left to give—a perk of living a full life. She would always help her daughter bathe, complimenting the colour of what most were unnerved by. That was more than a decade ago now, however. Ceele’s parents had passed on while she was still young, and she took to travelling not long after, working at what she could to afford what little she needed. Never for long, though—just enough to get to the next town between where she was and where the urge to go lay. There were certainly moments she looked back on fondly, but the journey had taken its toll.
The crude material of her ‘dress’ was coarse, old, and heavy, but it helped ease the worst of spring's chill—even if it was more of a modified sack than proper attire. Still, it was all she had after the last of her clothing fell apart, and giving the repurposed material a name that reminded her of something else made it less uncomfortable to wear, somehow. It would have to do until she could afford a pitying seamstress or the like. Until then, she would pretend she didn’t look so desperate, even if it only highlighted her status and made finding work difficult.
But it did. The dishevelled garment was a far cry from the wonderful silks or breathtaking designs she had seen some women wear, harshly marking the distinction between herself and those of affluence. The clothing of commoners was also a leap in style and quality, so she couldn't say her attire was up to even modest standards. No matter how hard she squinted, and no matter how much she fantasized otherwise, she seemed every bit like the vagrant she was, down to the soil embedded in the curvature of her claws and the stains throughout her fabrics. She looked like a serf from the more oppressed lands, yet they too wore crude cottons, which said a lot about how she appeared to those who had never lived a life of servitude. It was obvious that she was an outsider. That she didn't belong amongst the rest. It made changing something as simple as her appearance all the more difficult; prospective employment always saw a young woman who seemed more likely to steal or swindle than make an honest day’s living.
There was one good twist of fate in recent memory, however, and she came upon the result of it after leaving the slowing bustle of the village behind. Her steps carried her through a small copse of trees on the outskirts of town, the small shaded path leading to the back of a large, carefully pruned clearing, a scattering of fruit-bearing trees providing even darker shadow than the already dim moonlight. She skirted along the aging fence on the border that kept predatory animals away, carefully hoisting herself over the barrier where a large vegetable garden she was responsible for tending resided. If one were to tell her she would be living in such an area several months ago, she would have smiled politely and walked away, yet here she was.
A modest, warmly lit home occupied the middle of the clearing, sitting front and centre when one approached from the village path. It looked quite cozy, surrounded by berry bushes that were just beginning to bloom as the last dregs of winter slipped away. A front patio displayed a nice table and well-loved chairs, the rustic appearance only adding to its charm as a place where friends and family spent the warm summer afternoons. A smithy to the left of the house functioned as an additional heated building during the colder months, but usually served as a storefront and to muffle the sounds of hammered iron, though that had become less common. An old stable was nearby, close enough to be accessible, but not so close as to disturb the once occupying animals with sounds of iron craft. It hadn't seen a horse in quite some time, apparently, so it was mostly a workshop for whatever tasks didn’t require fire or metal.
There was a long history attached to each little detail—from the scuffs along the wooden siding to the depressions in the ground where daily routine wore into the earth. Every fault suffered throughout the years was matched by a thousand quirks that made it feel welcoming, like the house itself was merely waiting for the next friendly face with one of its own. She knew that the inside of each building would look just as cared for.
Her concern lay outside, however. It was a comparatively miniscule space just barely visible through the sheltering trees, true, yet it was where her efforts turned into tangible results, and where a stranger’s trust was painstakingly repaid. Once overgrown grass had been laboriously trimmed, the weeds plucked and disposed of, and now nothing distracted from what she could claim she had done.
The small plots of rock-bordered soil had little buds of growing vegetables, a sense of pride never failing to bloom in her breast with the knowledge that it would be barren without her touch. When her troubles and concerns grew heavy, and fears of the future or spectres of the past loomed over her head, she could look at where she had brought life where it wouldn't otherwise be. Some days, that was enough. She smiled in appreciation at what was admittedly amateur work, the night’s sky helping to hide any inevitably made mistakes.
She enjoyed the sight for a moment longer, then turned to walk towards a neglected old tool shed that was well out of sight within the trees, far away from whatever warmth and comfort the larger house offered to everyone and anyone. She put a hand on the degrading wood of the entryway, giving one last sad smile at the garden as she dismissed selfish thoughts of taking the eventual harvest for herself. A breath cleared the uncertainty from her voice, and she pushed open the door.
“I'm home!”
= = = = =
It took a while for Altier to adjust to his situation, and even once he accepted that his mana wasn't being siphoned, he was still reeling from confusion. He had spent centuries with every year passing by without his notice, yet now he was painfully aware of each creeping second languidly dragging on with the expediency of growing grass. It was as disorienting as it was painfully nostalgic.
Time was something he was never good with, and it only got worse as a dungeon. He'd get lost in creating rooms, corridors, creatures, and whatever else needed doing, only pausing to watch or listen to the few adventurers he became interested in. There was a stint where he spent what felt like hours agonizing over new abilities or options while he let the system manage things in the background, though he supposed it might have been much longer. So many wasted days, yet he still hadn't managed to try everything he had gained access to. Some abilities were simply too niche, came with concerning titles, or held descriptions that made him wary. Anything with ‘Decay’ in the name was instantly ignored—he didn't need more reasons to fear his affinity, and from the few he took the effort to read through, they were always vile.
But his existence for the moment was no longer like those endless stretches spent pondering the minutiae of what would help his adventurers grow stronger. Now, he could follow the rhythmic sounds of footsteps and steady breathing that set a calming pace. They were someone else's, yes, but they contextualized how easy it was to slip away without the subtle noises of life that he had long since surrendered to help his family. Of course, there were more differences that he noticed since being removed from his crumbling cavern, and his sight was the newest change.
He never gave much thought to how far he could see before. Why would he? As a man, his world extended as far as he could fathom, yet was also confined to the room where he spent his days, and as a dungeon… Well, who was he to consider distance when an event happening miles away could be seen with a flicker of thought? Nothing was too far when it was within his creation. Or his ‘body,’ he supposed. Sadly, his entire perception currently consisted of the small sphere of his obsidian core, and maybe a finger's length beyond it—which is to say, not much. He could make out the fine details in the dirty burlap he was held against, and how pale moonlight slowly took over the blurred reds of sunset, but hardly anything more. It was all just frosted colours after a certain point, and he found it infinitely frustrating. He just wanted to peer beyond the haze and scaly hand holding him to confirm that the sky he remembered was still there. Alas, the sunlight faded at too quick a pace, yet one oh so agonizingly slow.
The ensuing darkness gave him nothing to do but think about where he was, not that he had any ideas. He was too curious about why he wasn't dead to bother much with his blurry surroundings after the soft-spoken kobold abducted him, thus why he only belatedly noticed how limited his worldview had become. There might have been a forest beyond his cave, but the greens and browns were gone, and the sounds of steps through brush was replaced by the distant din of a village. An idle curiosity pondered if he would recognize any descents of his ‘family tradition’ adventurers there, but he was being carried by what most considered a monster, so likely not.
That short musing was short-lived, however, and he brought his focus back to the matter at hand. He supposed he was being taken somewhere specific, but that was an obvious deduction, considering he was taken at all. The why of the matter was less so; for what purpose would someone want a Decay-aligned core? He hadn’t heard of them before…well, before he was made into one, but he couldn’t imagine many uses. Maybe he was being sold? His…kidnapper? His sudden companion seemed rather pleased by their discovery of him, so that might be the case, and it was morbidly amusing to think that a frail, sickly young man might one day become a coveted, highly valuable item. His abduction could also be a part of some cult’s nefarious activities, but he didn't want to think about that too hard. He experienced enough odd ceremonies from the adventurers who took the time to tell him their tales.
Either way, he wasn't in the dungeon anymore, and he couldn’t see where he was going. He tried to query his menu to glean an answer, but was met with a scrambled mess he suspected read ‘Synchronizing…’ and little else. It gave him a headache trying to make sense of it—which he didn't know was possible anymore—so he dismissed the text and distracted himself with blurs from whatever diluted senses he still had. There wasn’t much to observe other than the constant footfalls and the flicker of shadows on his companion’s burlap garment. They might have travelled through brush again, but it was too dark to really say for certain.
Eventually, there was something new. He heard an old latch rattle and rusted door hinges groan, then a shuddered clack that confirmed he was now in a building. His kobold acquaintance gently cooed at something before moving about the nearly pitch-black space, finally setting him down on a… He wasn’t sure what it was, besides old and wooden.
[D$#@m$n E@$*ded]
The headache from before became a blinding migraine that suffocated him under a flash-flood of suffering. Seconds passed in abject torture until it blissfully abated, the mental blinks clearing his mind enough to notice a change in his existence. Specifically, he could actually see something besides the rotting wood grain he was placed on top of.
And it wasn’t anything promising…
He was more or less in the centre of a room no bigger than twelve paces by maybe ten. Not a terrible size for a space, but it was clearly never meant to house someone. His resting place looked about as neglected as he surmised; it was an upturned feeding trough, he supposed, since calling it a table seemed too generous. The surface was rife with holes and degraded iron, so it was something that once saw regular use before being replaced and tossed into storage, never to see the light of day again.
Actually, most things in the room seemed to fit that description. The window shutters were installed with metal hinges that had since rusted them closed, the misalignment letting in a draft—and whatever weather was outside as well, most likely. A poorly carved bowl sat on the floor, the stain beneath it hinting that it collected any rainwater that slowly dripped from the leaky roof. The wooden floorboards looked old, splintered, and in need of maintenance or replacement, though an effort had been put into abrading it somewhat smooth lately.
A tiny and decrepit fireplace was to the left of the door upon entry, its brickwork slowly crumbling due to weathering and age. It was sized more for keeping the room warm during mild days than to keep away the frigid chill of night. Its base only held cold ashes, but there was a collection of deadwood and scraps nearby, so that would probably be rectified soon. A small wheel-less cart had been turned into storage against the opposite wall, some herbs and other foraged items stowed away in it for future use. Various things he remembered seeing his father and brothers use in the fields were scattered about, too. It was nostalgic to see, honestly, even if his recollections had blurred over time.
Bundles of tattered blankets formed a pair of nests in the far corner, the smaller of the two had a pile of rough plants nearby. That answered his silent pondering of the room's purpose somewhat, though he was pretty sure the bedding material was salvaged, and there didn’t seem to be any hay or padding underneath whoever was sleeping on it. He didn’t know what to think about the weeds; they were purposefully placed there, and whoever did so had taken the time to wash them, but it was still strange.
He couldn’t see a doorway besides the entrance, yet most of the hallmarks of residency were put where space could be afforded, however crude. All in all, he surmised that it was a gardening shed of sorts, and his new acquaintance apparently lived here. He wasn't sure what he was expecting when a creature he had only read about came into his dungeon, but it wasn't being brought to a rundown and decrepit shack for unknown purposes.
Even if he had been raised by parents who made a humble living at the best of times, and they had emptied their coffers for unsuccessful attempts to ease his ailments, his acquaintance's living space made him uncomfortable. His family's house was never anything fancy, true—it shared some of the worn qualities that inevitably gathered over the years—but it was never this bad. His home benefited from a father's touch keeping it robust and a mother’s love keeping it warm, whereas this place had seen neither in quite some time. Oh, there was evidence that such was once the case; a wall was adorned with carefully made and well-spaced hangers for the various gardening tools, though the implements themselves had become a victim of neglect. That being said, he could make out the fresh soil and recent scratches exposing furrows of silver, so they were seeing use again.
A scrape and clack of flint drew his attention to his kobold companion. They were kneeling in front of the fireplace, methodically sparking life back into a dead flame with twigs and dried leaves. A slow, steady breath into the reddened base illuminated its face with a dull orange glow, revealing its weary visage and the permanently etched smile that rested beneath its cold grey eyes. The black-scaled kobold looked tired, if he were to guess—much the same as Altier did when he spent countless days watching everyone living a life he could never have through the mossy window of his bedroom. He was probably humanizing it too much. Still, he was surprised by the muted pang of sympathy, and how he would feel much more than blithe curiosity after spending so much time alone in the crumbling crypt of his own making.
A mental breath cycled through him as he looked at the odds and ends yet to be observed. Hardly anything else was of note—everything else was degraded and neglected, too. He did notice a nest of blankets move though, which was as good a distraction as any. The answer to his previous ‘pile of weeds’ inquiry poked a tiny nose from a crease in the fabric, then rapidly pawed at the blankets to dig itself out. Altier stared at the creature in both recognition and confusion.
It was a rabbit…or at least it looked like one, assuming you were to also describe a porcupine and a sea urchin as well. He was pretty sure he didn’t remember any hare that had jagged metal-tipped fur, nor that had said fur arranged into a row of spiked horns that flowed down its spine, terminating at a large fluffy tail, which was equally bizarre to see. The whole of its coat could double as a weapon, with semi-sharp barbs sticking off seemingly at random, yet he remembered an adventurer saying most animals used that sort of thing defensively. He increased his focus as he tried to make sense of the odd creature. Surely he would have heard about—
[Hoppittttttt#%%÷ — Ferro-o-orabbit-it (Ma%$le)
Abil—]
[Null]
[Er0Rrrrrrrr—]
[Und#$f—]
He bit back the pain caused by the sudden intrusion of his menu, blanking out the text and mentally retreating to hide from the source. Did he just inspect something? How? Shouldn’t his entire…‘framework,’ was it…? Yes, that was it. Shouldn’t that have been corrupted? Why could he see the creature’s information when his entire framework was damaged? That was the first ability he lost, so why is it the first to be functional? How was it functional? Was it? It did just spit garbled text at him, but it was something, and that was more than he had gotten from it in a very long time. If it was somehow working—no matter how poorly—then that left the question of why he hadn't heard of anything called a ‘ferrorabbit’ before, assuming he read that correctly.
A soft thud vibrated the tro— table, startling him out of thought. He turned his attention to the button nose wiggling erratically at him, the short, stubby muzzle leading to surprisingly expressive and curious red eyes. Dull brown fur jutted off in random tufts and patches, changing to a darker tint on its paws and the upper half of its ears, while the tips of its spikes were a muted hue of iron. It still seemed just as soft as the less pointed variety he remembered, if a touch dirty. Upright ears twitched this way and that way as its head vigorously shook, eventually settling on pointing in his direction when it calmed down enough.
It was apparent that he had its undivided attention…for all of a few seconds. His scaly companion called something out in their foreign tongue, and whatever conclusion the pointy-furred animal came to, it seemed more interested in the kobold, parting from him after nudging his core with its nose.
[Cre-e-e—]
[Errrrrrr0r: Undefiiiiiiii—]
[Acceeeeep-t-t-t??]
[Yeeee— s s / Nnnnnnn—]
He winced at the intrusion, but the contents detracted from the pain. He couldn’t remember the system ever asking him a question without his explicit intent being involved. It wanted him to…accept something? Was it the system prompting him, or the animal? What was he to accept?
[Creatuuuuu—]
[Acce-e-e-%#@ed!]
…What?
= = = = =
“Hoppit, that's not food!” Ceele admonished half-heartedly, placing a larger branch on the burgeoning flame before she got to her feet. She wasn’t actually that worried; the stone was as big as his head, and she was pretty sure he couldn't bite into it. Hopefully. “Come here, momma has a treat for you!”
The ferrorabbit playfully bumped the gemstone and jumped off the low table, landing with a soft thud that belied how heavy he was for his tiny size. He wiggled in excitement, his ears flailing and releasing a slight clack whenever the two connected. It got even louder when she grabbed her basket and put away the useful herbs, taking out a specific item that she had gathered just for him. The little bun wasted no time in scurrying over and standing tall on his hind legs to judge if the offered plant was to his liking—and it was, based on how he dug in with enthusiasm. She stifled a laugh as she contentedly watched him nibble away on the treat, ignoring the guilt that came with knowing she couldn't afford proper vegetables for him. He had a hard life too, and it tore at her to have so little to give.
She came across Hoppit a year ago, during a storm that worsened while she was travelling between towns. The day had darkened to night in spite of it still being about noon, but the weather didn't care for how bright it was supposed to be. Wind and rain became a typhoon, forcing her to seek shelter in a thankfully abandoned den of what was probably a larger animal. She was fine with waiting out the squall, since the stone roof over her head was more than she usually had back then, but the sounds of dull bangs and thuds near her hideaway was followed by cries of animals yelping in pain. Curiosity won over reason, and she left the safety of her shelter to see what was causing the disturbance. Truthfully, she was hopeful that she'd come across scraps or the like, her hunger driving her forward, and she could always turn back if it seemed dangerous. Yet when she arrived at the source of the commotion, she found herself thinking of anything but food.
Two predators had fought over a small burrow, both trying to dig out a meal and taking offence to the other doing the same. What they didn’t know was that they were assaulting the home of ferrorabbits. Specifically, the home of an angry, protective, and well-fed mother that was keeping her newborns safe from the storm when predators decided to try their luck. From the scene Ceele came across, it was certainly obvious why most people dislike trying to hunt the creatures.
Sadly, the rabbit didn't survive an attack from two predators, but she did make their victory pyrrhic; neither could do much about their hunger with their bodies full of cuts and holes, and it was only a matter of time before they succumbed to blood loss or infection. The mother's sacrifice meant that the babies had avoided the imminent threat, but they were left unattended as a consequence, and it took an opportunistic bird swooping down to shake Ceele out of her shock. Despite her subsequent hurry, she only acted in time to save one of the orphaned young. The warren was new and barely dug out, which meant that it didn’t take much effort for the kits to be found—by both her and hungry maws. All she could do was scoop the ball of fluff into her arms and run back to the cave before anything else tried to eat it.
In retrospect, it was a stupid decision for a number of factors. She barely had the resources to supply herself, and an attempt to raise offspring of any type would only make the inevitable heartbreak worse. But when she saw how quiet and scared he was… How his tiny, shaking body calmed in her arms, those terrified red eyes seeking comfort… She should have just walked away when she knew there wasn’t going to be anything to fill her stomach. She should have put the baby animal down and let nature take its course…yet the preciously furry face stole her heart far too quickly for it to grow so cold. The next day was spent backtracking to the nearest town to get him something suitable to eat, which used most of her meagre savings. Still, it was worth every coin.
Hoppit had been accompanying her ever since. He grew quickly, transitioning from something she saved that stormy night into a presence she had grown to love like a child. The little lagomorph would bounce along beside her during her travels, then ride in her arms as he rested—though the latter happened with worrying frequency as of late. She hadn’t learned much about the springy herbivores, but she knew enough to say that he wasn't as big as he should be, nor was his fur as sharp. No matter how startled he was, his spiky coat never managed to do more than stiffen slightly, which was apparently a side effect of poor diet, according to snippets of conversation she had overheard on the topic. She wanted him to be healthy, but she didn't know what he needed. Not many farmers raised ferrorabbits, and those that did were far away, so she didn’t have anyone to ask what she should be doing. Her best course of action was to give him what little she had.
Ceele was well aware of how he would be better off on his own, but he followed her whenever she tried to set him free. Hoppit just kept launching into her arms and wiggling his ears, ecstatic that he was with her again, uncaring that food was scarce and that they spent most of their days travelling. No amount of cold nights spent bundling up under the tattered blankets she managed to find ever dampened his spirits, and he was content to eat the grass or flowers whenever he felt like it, oblivious to the fact that he wasn’t getting enough nutrition. He would dig and excitedly drag back oddities that he found, and the one time he found a plant that looked particularly good for him, he insisted that it be shared with her.
A black pit still lingered in her chest when she recalled how pleased he was while he munched on the rare vegetable he discovered, then how distressed he became when she wouldn’t have any as well. He bumped and nipped at her, all but begging her to eat. His ears pinned back against his head, his fur bristled in a way she hadn’t seen since. It was only when she took a small bite and let him inspect the new teeth marks that he seemed to calm down, but perhaps she had been looking too deep into the actions of her tiny friend. All she could say for certain was that he was scared she was going hungry.
A morbid thought wondered if his first mother had refused food shortly before being attacked, and he—as small and simple as he was—had connected the two events in his mind, making him absolutely terrified that something would happen if Ceele didn’t have something too. All of that fear, and desperation overwhelmed him, just because she was happier watching him eat. She was determined to erase that issue. She would find something that needed a worker and earn enough to feed them both. One day, she would be able to smile at how big and healthy her little fluffy boy had become, but until then, it was becoming increasingly difficult not to think about how she was spending so much time growing vegetables and fruit that he couldn’t have…
Every morning was an exercise in tending to the gardens while actively shoving down images of a pleased ferrorabbit happily eating the results. That never went well; no matter how determined she was to complete her duties without a single selfish thought, most tasks were done while picturing his full belly and delighted bounces. There were a few weeks until the fastest of the crops would be ready for harvest, and Ceele would have to collect them while fighting the urge to bring back just a few for him.
She couldn’t, because she knew exactly how quickly that could escalate. It would start small—A vegetable here, a fruit there—but seeing Hoppit happy was one of the precious few good things she had in her life. Crossing the line would only become easier each time. They couldn’t risk losing their new home over greed, and she was already betraying the trust given to her by housing a wild animal, especially one known to be a pest for crops. She didn't want to know how angry it would make her benefactors if she was caught taking their vegetables for one.
No matter how tame and precious Hoppit was, and no matter how well he listened, they would only see him as the same creature that ruined harvests in droves. Thus was why she had to tell him to stay cooped up by himself while she was working or scavenging. And to her surprise, he did.
Honestly, she had made the initial request with the expectation of needing to carry him back into their home until he understood that she wasn’t leaving him forever. There wasn’t much she could do to stop the ferrorabbit from digging through the old wooden building if he wanted to get out. He wouldn’t need to damage anything either—a rotting board on the door only needed a little push to nudge it out of the way, and his natural curiosity made sure he was aware of it. But no, Hoppit was well-behaved as always, keeping hidden until she walked through the door, where he would leap from the shadows to personally show her how good he was and how he stayed put like she asked him to. It never stopped amazing her that he had such a surprising level of understanding despite being an animal, and that was to say nothing of how young he was.
All that intelligence, joy, and companionship he offered her…and yet the best she could give back to him was the weeds from the garden and the odd plant she found while scavenging…
Soft clacks of flicking ears dragged her from her pondering, her mind returning to the present. Hoppit finished his treat of the small plant, then bounced in place and scurried over to his bowl of water, perfectly happy to have eaten only that. He was so joyful with how little she provided, approaching every day of scarcity with the same enthusiasm she could never muster, as if certain that everything would be alright.
“It’s bedtime, Hoppit,” Ceele announced through a soft sigh, stoking the fire with enough branches to hopefully last the night. The ferrorabbit perked an ear in her direction, then sat on his haunches to extend the rest of himself up, his two little forepaws adorably held to his chest as he inspected the room like he always did. She smiled and made sure everything was stored away, then laid down on her bundle of blankets, covering herself with the warmest one. Hoppit bolted over to snuggle once he decided everything in the shed was up to his standards, throwing himself to the floor in a dramatic flop of comfort. Her quiet laughter subsided as they both settled in for the night, her tail completing the rabbit’s encompassing cuddle, but her eyes fell towards the obsidian orb on the table, her thoughts following suit.
It sat there, just as she left it, as benign as anything else ever placed atop the improvised furnishing. Yet there was a sense of ease and purpose as well. The old wooden trough seemed…important with its adornment firmly laid upon its surface, and she couldn’t puzzle out why. She was starting to doubt her earlier excitement.
Should she sell it? Would anyone know where it came from? Would anyone know what it was, or if it was worth anything? If she could get even a modest sum for it, she would be able to buy clothing, food, and new bedding. It would be easier to convince someone to give her work if she was dressed better and wasn’t so thin, and then she would have the income to slowly improve both of their lives. She could pay for a wandering merchant to ask a ferrorabbit rancher about the animal, even if it would take time to get back to her, or maybe she could hire a local if they needed to go near one for some reason. The cost didn’t matter to her as long as it happened.
But there was something else bothering her about the idea of selling the stone. She had travelled so far with a tug in her chest, only for the feeling of wanderlust to dissipate as soon as she held it. Was that a sign? She was never one for things like ‘fate,’ but a niggling doubt in her mind discouraged the idea of making a profit off her discovery. Even if what she could gain was so very tempting, and even if Hoppit would be happier if she did…
She tore her dampened eyes away and closed them, ignoring the burning trails running across her face. It would be another early morning, and she needed to sleep so she could take care of the garden. Decisions like this could wait. Once she had nothing else distracting her, and she had time to properly think about it, she would see how she felt about the stone.
Eventually, she dozed off with Hoppit pressed against her chest, and a longing in her heart.
Next
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A/N: Patreon and Ko-fi will be 1 chap ahead this time around, and I've set it so everything from the lowest tier up can read the newest trashfire! Anything above that is sheer show of love. Hope you enjoyed!

hi, as the title says I'm currently working on an essay with this prompt:
"Why are everyday social practices and routines so central to our understanding of the relationship between nationalism and personhood?"
the minimum word count is around 1,800 words - I'm at 900 words of nonsense right now and I genuinely feel like I have nothing left to say on the subject at all. can anyone help me brainstorm, or flesh out points I have already made?
so far I have referenced Imagined Communities, talked about how the newspaper became ritualistic and encouraged national consciousness to emerge,. I ompared the function of this 'ritual' to victor turner's work on ritual, as well as judith butler's work on gender performativity (compared gender performance to ethnic / nationality performance). I plan to write a little about othering and diaspora and how one can feel othered outside of their home country because the mundane details surrounding them don't match up to what they're used to.
where else can I dig for analysis? right now I feel like my essay is mostly descriptive, I just can't muster the brainpower to analyse. I don't care if the essay is good, only that it is done. but my brain is incredibly fried because I've written 4000 words in the last few days and I feel like my brain is shutting down because I have 4000 more to write in the next two days. I really don't want to give up but I feel like I'm literally dried up of anything left to say lol. please help any comments appreciated

Suppose a tiny black hole (e.g. mass of Ceres) were to form, in the midst of some cataclysmic event (supernova or whatever).
Presumably that tiny black hole would promptly evaporate via Hawking radiation, go pop, and disappear?
(This question was inspired by https://astrobites.org/2024/05/29/noclip-on-simulated-primordial-black-holes-could-dance-through-sun-like-stars/ )

This Wednesday 5th June Stand Up Comedy from one liner legend Mark Simmons + Support in Elephant and Castle.
As seen on Mock the Week BBC2, Out There ITV1 and One For The Road BBC3.
Grab your tickets here:
https://www.designmynight.com//london/whats-on/comedy/mark-simmons-wip-buffering-stand-up-comedy-night
MARK SIMMONS: WORK IN PROGRESS
Mark has appeared on TV shows such as ITV’s Out There, BBC Radio 4ExtraStands Up, a Channel 4 pilot starring alongside Bridget Christie, as well as BBC3’s One For The Road.
“Absolutely hilarious.” - The Scotsman ★★★★
“A lot of excellent funny one-liners.” - Bruce Dessau “A talented comic with an artisan’s grasp of joke writing.” - Chortle ★★★★
“Perfectly timed, clever one-liners” - Leicester Mercury ★★★★
Edinburgh Festival Magazine ★★★★★
Bunbury Magazine ★★★★★
DAVE’s Top 10 Joke of the Fringe 2019 & 2017
Nominee Amused Moose: Best Show 2017
This is a very intimate venue and tickets will set out quick so grab them whilst you can!!!
Add us @bufferingcomedy for line ups and special announcements

This Wednesday 5th June Stand Up Comedy from one liner legend Mark Simmons + Support in Elephant and Castle.
As seen on Mock the Week BBC2, Out There ITV1 and One For The Road BBC3.
Grab your tickets here:
https://www.designmynight.com//london/whats-on/comedy/mark-simmons-wip-buffering-stand-up-comedy-night
MARK SIMMONS: WORK IN PROGRESS
Mark has appeared on TV shows such as ITV’s Out There, BBC Radio 4ExtraStands Up, a Channel 4 pilot starring alongside Bridget Christie, as well as BBC3’s One For The Road.
“Absolutely hilarious.” - The Scotsman ★★★★
“A lot of excellent funny one-liners.” - Bruce Dessau “A talented comic with an artisan’s grasp of joke writing.” - Chortle ★★★★
“Perfectly timed, clever one-liners” - Leicester Mercury ★★★★
Edinburgh Festival Magazine ★★★★★
Bunbury Magazine ★★★★★
DAVE’s Top 10 Joke of the Fringe 2019 & 2017
Nominee Amused Moose: Best Show 2017
This is a very intimate venue and tickets will set out quick so grab them whilst you can!!!
Add us @bufferingcomedy for line ups and special announcements

This Wednesday 5th June Stand Up Comedy from one liner legend Mark Simmons + Support in Elephant and Castle.
As seen on Mock the Week BBC2, Out There ITV1 and One For The Road BBC3.
Grab your tickets here:
https://www.designmynight.com//london/whats-on/comedy/mark-simmons-wip-buffering-stand-up-comedy-night
MARK SIMMONS: WORK IN PROGRESS
Mark has appeared on TV shows such as ITV’s Out There, BBC Radio 4ExtraStands Up, a Channel 4 pilot starring alongside Bridget Christie, as well as BBC3’s One For The Road.
“Absolutely hilarious.” - The Scotsman ★★★★
“A lot of excellent funny one-liners.” - Bruce Dessau “A talented comic with an artisan’s grasp of joke writing.” - Chortle ★★★★
“Perfectly timed, clever one-liners” - Leicester Mercury ★★★★
Edinburgh Festival Magazine ★★★★★
Bunbury Magazine ★★★★★
DAVE’s Top 10 Joke of the Fringe 2019 & 2017
Nominee Amused Moose: Best Show 2017
This is a very intimate venue and tickets will set out quick so grab them whilst you can!!!
Add us @bufferingcomedy for line ups and special announcements

My girlfriend (20f) and I (21m) have been together for a year and a half. Over the last month, I've noticed her becoming distant. She texts less, and everything is colder and shorter. She doesn't say nice things as often, and when we hang out, she's kind of 'off.' She studies medicine and has a lot of anxiety about exams. When I confronted her about this, she was in finals and told me she wasn’t sure how she felt about me, that lately she hasn’t felt the same as she did at the beginning. But she thought it was probably all the stress from the exams.
She finished her exams the other day, but everything remained the same. Yesterday, we hung out and while we were talking and sharing some anecdotes, I talked about our first date. I had just finished changing the strings on my guitar, and I sang her a song under the stars. It was beautiful. At that exact moment, she started to cry, saying she didn’t want to feel this way, that she didn’t understand why she felt this way, and that she thought it was the exams. She told me "I love you" several times, and it sounded real.
We both ended up crying because we knew what was coming next. I had been expecting it for the last month and a half. But nothing prepares you. Yesterday was the worst day of my life. It's like something was ripped out of my chest, and now I have a void that I can't heal. It physically hurts.
We ended up breaking up, both of us crying. I kissed her for the last time. The saddest kiss in history. I said to her that maybe is just a "see you later" rather than a final goodbye. She said she hopes it turns out that way.
I'm broken. I wish ending it was as easy as starting it was.
I'm going to study abroad for a whole year starting in September. It was going to be difficult, but I wanted to make it work. I start my exam session on Monday, and I can’t study. She was probably waiting for me to finish. But it couldn’t be.
It’s also hard because I was very integrated into her family, and I feel like I’ve lost them too.
I feel like it's wrong. That it shouldn’t end this way. I have the urge to write to her. To tell her that we still have time before it’s too late. It doesn’t feel right. I'm devastated. I don’t know what to do. I need help.
—- Thinking of sending her this:
Hello. I know I said I wouldn't write to you again, but I had the worst night of my life and if I don't do this, I will regret it forever.
Nothing could have prepared me for what happened yesterday. I don't feel like what we've done is right. I don't feel like we've talked enough. We haven't had the chance to really sit down and discuss it. I don't want to believe that everything we've built has vanished overnight. I didn't feel that way yesterday. Everything has happened so fast.
With this message, I just want to say that if you're having doubts about whether you did the right thing yesterday, tell me. Before it's too late. Whatever it takes. Even if we need to sit down in therapy, I'll pay for the sessions, I don't care.
You don't have to respond immediately. You can take some time and reflect on it. If the answer is no, I'll accept it. But at least I want to have a clear conscience knowing that I tried until the end.

I guess I figured once I had this pen in my hand I’d know what it is I wanted to say. Because I know it’s there. Something heavy. But all I can tell you is it’s a feeling. It’s crazy how sometimes we don’t know how to place what we feel inside ourselves… or why. It’s not until someone mentions or points it out and identifies it for us that we understand. Maybe I just have a heavy heart. It just feels… misplaced. The feelings to big for my chest. It presses against my rib cage and that hurts. I can’t take a breathe without the fear that it might be my last. My heart feels like it might just stop beating… out of exhaustion… out of being ripped in half. Sometimes it makes me nauseous and I have to stay real still so I don’t get sick. But I get sick anyway. I’m not quite sure when it will pass, but right now I’m sure I’ll be this way forever. I’m not sure how to even begin to put one foot in front of the other much less, where I’m walking to. I doubt I will be ready to move on anytime soon. I have no idea how that part came so easily for you. And while I’m happy your not as heartbroken as I seem to be, thinking you have opened your heart to someone new so soon after losing me hurts even more. Maybe even the most. Damn. It’s as if someone is pouring acid in my chest. It makes me dizzy. Like the world is spinning in both directions…. I think I might get sick again. Wish I knew how to just make it stop…only for a moment. Long enough to catch my breathe. To catch you. But it’s only just begun so I just hang on…. The worst part is I can never tell you any of this. You’re not around for me to run to anymore. For you to comfort me and tell me to stop crying. That you love me and whoa whoa whoa heeeyyy breathe baby…..that it’s gonna be ok. I can’t bury my face in your chest and tell you I’m sorry……that I love you and I just need you to understand that IM NOT GOOD AT THIS…. That it’s all so new and I’m afraid…that I’m trying to figure out how to find my way in the dark with my eyes closed…… I never meant to make you not love me anymore. That now nothing even seems worth it. That all I needed was you. That I was giving it everything I had but hey, I always gotta fuck something up in the process. That I would give ANYTHING to go back and have it be anything else but YOU. That I can’t be ok unless I have YOU………. But it was you…… this time… I lost you. So now what? Does life really keep showing up after THAT? Did the sun and the moon and the stars not just see what happened?? How can they keep going when MY WHOLE WORLD just stopped…. And to look up and see that you keep going too….any life left inside me has lost its meaning. Every word…..every whispered promise…. Ripped away from me like I had stolen it….. like I never had any right to touch it in the first place. So here I am. Heavy heart. Shallow breathes. A world spinning in both directions. You….gone. And I’m alone in a foreign place with no idea how to move from this point. Which direction to go. Or where I’m even supposed to get to. So….. I tried to write you. Tried to see if maybe it was just my imagination or if I really lost the one thing that gave me a reason to believe maybe I do have wings…… maybe I really can fly…. But you took all the air with you, and I never had wings did I? If I did I couldn’t figure out how to spread them and let them carry me back to you. See, you’re the blood in my veins…. And I’m just an old song you’ve forgotten the lyrics to. But I hope you still hear me in your head sometimes..

Hey fellow Redditors,
As we've seen, ChatGPT and other language models have become incredibly skilled at generating human-like text. But, have you ever wondered if it's possible to push their limits and challenge them to write a story with a twist?
Here's the challenge: Can you come up with a prompt or trick that would force ChatGPT to write a story without using certain letters, such as "s" or "m"? Yes, you read that right - a story without the letters "s" or "m"!
The Rules:

1. Choose a letter (or multiple letters) that you want to exclude from the story.
2. Craft a prompt or trick that would encourage ChatGPT to write a story without using those letters.
3. Share your prompt or trick in the comments below.
4. I'll try out the prompts and tricks on ChatGPT and share the results.

The Goal:
The goal is to see who can come up with the most creative and effective prompt or trick to restrict ChatGPT's language output. This challenge is not only a fun exercise in language manipulation but also a way to explore the capabilities and limitations of language models.
Let's See What You've Got
So, Redditors, get creative and show off your language hacking skills Share your prompts or tricks in the comments, and let's see who can come up with the most innovative way to restrict ChatGPT's language output.
Update: I'll be updating this post with the results of the prompts and tricks shared in the comments, so be sure to check back and see how ChatGPT responds to your challenges

Im sorry about what happened. I didn’t disappear on you intentionally.
If you remember 2010, I left because i had no idea you might have feelings for me or that i did and because i thought you didn’t care about me as a friend. Seemed like you had so many good friends and i was afraid that you would hurt me like N did. Im weird about friendships because I barely had any growing up and seemed to constantly lose friends. I didn’t leave to hurt you I just thought you wouldn’t notice.
Then more recently, i was in love with you. I didn’t want to hurt you. Not ever. I started to think you were using me along with him encouraging that idea then the proxy changed and became nasty and i didnt even know you were still out there loving me. I didn’t know it hurt you and realizing last night from your letter hit me like a truck cause i never wanted to be the person that appears to prove your trauma fears right especially not for you. I know what thats like and i know how horrible it feels (though with a different trauma of course) and it pains me so much that thats how it was for you.
Im so sorry but as i was saying I didn’t do it on purpose. I just didn’t even know. The thing about our relationship is it was through letters and i stopped looking at letters and i guess I stopped writing them too. So you couldn’t know and i dont remember seeing anything from you. I vaguely remember you were upset that i was talking to him but i don’t know if you knew he ghosted me after seeing my picture. I dunno. I was so lost and confused at the time. Writing letters became too difficult, thats why i stopped.
I guess i am a terrible person. I shouldn’t have talked to him though i remember someone kept trying to talk to me during the beginning. It was probably him.
And based on the fact that i got psychosis just from talking to a dude casually a while before that (when we werent talking cause you told me to leave you alone, which id still like to know what happened there, that whole thing really hurt me but that’s not the point of this), i was far too traumatized by men then to have any clue about him (A). Unfortunately. (Btw, i wish we had a more private place to hash out private things)
Im not trying to make excuses and please don’t say i am (cause my mom has forever and ever) but this whole thing was more complicated than perhaps you thought.
Im conflicted because i feel like this is the path i had to go down, to find myself and figure out my traumas but i never meant to hurt you along the way. I never wanted you to feel abandoned and left without a word. I can’t imagine how that must have felt. This will eat away at me probably for the rest of my life.
Im sorry, this is a shitty explanation and apology but apparently all i could come up with at the moment. My brain is all over the place.
So, thats why i thought you wouldnt want to give it a try anymore. Seemed too terrible to ever trust me again.
I do love you (but without any contact how can i show you? I wanna show you) and i see a future everywhere around me of us. Comes up unbidden. Sometimes i think i hear you, im not sure. And i worry im so bad at just everything that youll think im just some user. I don’t know how many users go through extreme embarrassment though lol. They’d be smoother too. Im so awkward.
I froze when i realized just what id done (inadvertently). From the letter. I shut down completely. My guilt is never ending, what’s some more. But for reasons i can’t explain right now (one day though) this guilt is extra excruciating. Cause it’s you. The one i adore most.
You always thought (it seemed) that id done something to hurt you with all this intangible guilt i carried around but it was just how i annihilated the whole world.
I wish i could hold you. You can yell at me if you want. If it helps. I wish i could just be near you.
It’s been like 5 years. I can’t believe it. We’re due to see each other again.
Anyway, i love you and i hope you have sweet dreams when you sleep baby (he calls you babygirl ive noticed). I’ll stop calling you that.

You know what? Why are you all writing other letters? H is clearly superior. Actually, specifically the lowercase h is even better. h is the best letter. It is the best thing humanity has ever thought of and ever made and it will never be beaten. h is the embodiment of true beauty and perfection. It is so amazing that nothing else in this entire gigantic universe of ours can compete with it. And nothing was able to in the past, nor will anything be able to in the future. Take a look at our expanding universe. Imagine its long future. After all the star formation stops, all of the stars will eventually burn out and die. The universe will continue expanding, filling itself with more and more nothingness between the matter. After all of the planets leave their cold, dead stars, after trillions of years have passed, quadrillions, then quintillions, and so on. After any galaxies other than our own have long become unreachable. Eventually, black holes will take over, consuming anything there is. After a monstrously huge amount of time, said to be greater than a googol (10,​000,​000,​000,​000,​000,​000,​000,​000,​000,​000,​000,​000,​000,​000,​000,​000,​000,​000,​000,​000,​000,​000,​000,​000,​000,​000,​000,​000,​000,​000,​000,​000,​000) years even all of the supermassive black holes left will eventually evaporate, and the only stuff left will be tiny amounts of subatomic particles and radiation. Say, that even then, somehow, some species survived, and they were living all this time (greater than a googol years) and were able to invent plenty of new inventions, nothing they will ever make will ever come close to the true perfection of h. And that is how amazing h is. Truly unbeatable, no matter what.

You know what? Why are you all writing other letters? H is clearly superior. Actually, specifically the lowercase h is even better. h is the best letter. It is the best thing humanity has ever thought of and ever made and it will never be beaten. h is the embodiment of true beauty and perfection. It is so amazing that nothing else in this entire gigantic universe of ours can compete with it. And nothing was able to in the past, nor will anything be able to in the future. Take a look at our expanding universe. Imagine its long future. After all the star formation stops, all of the stars will eventually burn out and die. The universe will continue expanding, filling itself with more and more nothingness between the matter. After all of the planets leave their cold, dead stars, after trillions of years have passed, quadrillions, then quintillions, and so on. After any galaxies other than our own have long become unreachable. Eventually, black holes will take over, consuming anything there is. After a monstrously huge amount of time, said to be greater than a googol (10,​000,​000,​000,​000,​000,​000,​000,​000,​000,​000,​000,​000,​000,​000,​000,​000,​000,​000,​000,​000,​000,​000,​000,​000,​000,​000,​000,​000,​000,​000,​000,​000,​000) years even all of the supermassive black holes left will eventually evaporate, and the only stuff left will be tiny amounts of subatomic particles and radiation. Say, that even then, somehow, some species survived, and they were living all this time (greater than a googol years) and were able to invent plenty of new inventions, nothing they will ever make will ever come close to the true perfection of h. And that is how amazing h is. Truly unbeatable, no matter what.

Heyo 🙋🏼‍♂️ I'm interested in meeting new people, maybe you are too? If so, feel free to write to me and who knows, in the best case a friendship will develop :) What I should also note is that I would prefer it if you were a woman, simply because I get along better with women than with other men 😂
To give you a rough idea of who I am and what I like, I'd better write a bit about myself.
My biggest hobby is definitely gaming, I've been playing games since I was 3-4 years old 🤓 My favourite thing to do is playing single player games on the PS5, especially action RPGs, like all Fromsoftware titles. At the moment I'm also playing a lot of LoL with my best friend. I also have a Switch, just not too many games, mostly Pokemon, but I've spent a lot of hours on it. Oh and I bet nobody can beat me in Mario Kart 🏁
In addition to gaming, I also enjoy watching movies and series. Horror is the only genre I'm not the biggest fan of, although I'm often interested in the story of the movie. I've also watched one or two horror movies with friends, but to be honest, I've often held a pillow in front of my face 😂 Apart from horror, I watch all sorts of things, my favourites in terms of movies are definitely Lord of the Rings, Star Wars, Pirates of the Caribbean, Harry Potter, a lot of Disney films, Iron Man and a few more that I can't think of off the top of my head right now haha As far as series go, I watch things like Stranger Things, GoT, Brooklyn 99, Community, Avatar the last Airbender, the Mandalorian, Fallout, Lupin or Vox Machina :)
I've been reading a lot again for half a year and I'm currently working on the last Witcher book, The Lady of the Lake. Other than that, I've read Lord of the Rings and the Metro trilogy. And as soon as I've finished The Witcher, I want to read Dragon Ball again, the last time was a good 16-17 years ago, and then maybe Dune or The Hunger Games 🤔
Apart from that, I study computer science, enjoy being outdoors and doing things with friends. I also love animals, my family has two dogs and three cats and I've been a vegetarian for almost 6 years 😄 I've been learning French via Duolingo every day for about 1 1/2 months, so if you happen to have Duolingo too, let me know and we can add each other 🙌🏼 I also enjoy cooking and my favourite dish is and will probably always be pizza. I've made pizza myself so many times in my life that I can do it in my sleep (but it's not that difficult, I have to be honest, not like sushi, which I've also made 1-2 times 🍱)
If you have similar interests and would like to write a bit, hit me up :D Ideally, you should live somewhere in Europe, because I'm from Germany myself and then it would be more convenient in terms of time. If you've read this far and won’t write me, I'd still like to thank you for your perseverance and wish you a good day or a nice morning/evening :D

Hello everyone. My name is Joe. I am an avid watcher and reader of all things Star Wars, from the Saga down to Bad Batch and the Acolyte. I have also read all of the Thrawn books, the original, the Disney reboot, and the Ascendancy trilogy; as well as Tarkin, Lord of the Siths, Dooku, and all of the High Republic books up to Eye of Darkness.
Now I am also an amateur writer, having done Roleplaying on Reddit and now on Discord before. Since a couple of weeks, I have been thinking about writing some stories about the Galactic Civil War, set around the time that Rebels or Andor are set. I am looking for some feedback, and perhaps some story ideas that will help me with finding what people would find interesting. I am currently working on two separate anthologies:

1. Massassi Trilogy: focusing on the early Rebellion, and especially on the adventures of Jan Dodonna, Garven Dreis (Red Leader), "Dutch" Vander (Gold Leader) and the Massassi Cell members.
   • Hidden Fortress: set about 6-5 BBY, tells the story of how Dodonna and Blue, Red, and Gold Squadron found the base on Yavin IV and built it up as the main Rebel base. I currently have an idea about a fun mission that Garven and Antoc Merrick (Blue Leader) undertake, stealing a Star Destroyer Power Core and turbines from an Imperial Star Destroyer. Not entirely sure how to handle that one.
   • Red and Gold: set around 5-2 BBY, starting just after Aldhani, telling the stories of some of the missions undertaken by Garven and Dutch. Not entirely sure which stories to tell but I have an idea about a mission to Kashyyyk. Featuring Mon Mothma.
   • Defiance: set around 2 BBY, just after Mon Mothma declared open Rebellion. Telling the further stories of Red and Gold Squadrons as they now openly fight the Empire. Might feature Vader, as well as Leia.
2. Joint Chiefs Series: focusing on the Empire fighting the early Rebellion. I have a book centered around one major member of the famous "Death Star conference" scene from Ep4:
   • Tagge: set around 9 BBY, focusing on Cassio Tagge, General of the Imperial Army, as he uncovers a conspiracy of growing Rebellion in the Outer Rim. Featuring both Vader and the Emperor, as well as other notables such as Motti, Tarkin, and Yularen.
   • Motti: set around 8 BBY, focusing on Conan Antonio Motti, Admiral of the Navy, carving out a conquest in the Outer Rim after a failed uprising. Featuring Vader and the Emperor, as well as Tagge, Ozzel, and Tarkin.
   • Yularen: set around 7 BBY, focusing on Wullf Yularen as he discovers a conspiracy to bomb the COMPNOR arcology. Featuring Vader and the Emperor, as well as Tarkin. I think it would work like a Spy novel, with Yularen acting as a detective.
   • Order and Justice: set around 5 BBY, just after Aldhani, focusing on Tagge and Motti as they need to reluctantly work together to fight a growing Rebellion. Featuring Vader and Tarkin. Title refers to Anakin's words on Mustafar,
   • Joint Chiefs: set around 2 BBY, just after the Declaration of Rebellion, focusing on Tagge, Motti, and Yularen as they all need to fight the Rebellion. Featuring Vader and Tarkin, as well as Ozzel and Veers.

So if you're interested in hearing what I have in mind for each of these, I would like to read your comments. Any advise on how the style and pacing of these should look like is appreciated.
Quick disclaimer: as of the moment, I really only have a clear outline and have started actually writing Massassi - Hidden Fortress and Tagge. The others are sort of more long-term wishes that would depend on how well the first novels turn out.

My girlfriend (20f) and I (21m) have been together for a year and a half. Over the last month, I've noticed her becoming distant. She texts less, and everything is colder and shorter. She doesn't say nice things as often, and when we hang out, she's kind of 'off.' She studies medicine and has a lot of anxiety about exams. When I confronted her about this, she was in finals and told me she wasn’t sure how she felt about me, that lately she hasn’t felt the same as she did at the beginning. But she thought it was probably all the stress from the exams.
She finished her exams the other day, but everything remained the same. Yesterday, we hung out and while we were talking and sharing some anecdotes, I talked about our first date. I had just finished changing the strings on my guitar, and I sang her a song under the stars. It was beautiful. At that exact moment, she started to cry, saying she didn’t want to feel this way, that she didn’t understand why she felt this way, and that she thought it was the exams. She told me "I love you" several times, and it sounded real.
We both ended up crying because we knew what was coming next. I had been expecting it for the last month and a half. But nothing prepares you. Yesterday was the worst day of my life. It's like something was ripped out of my chest, and now I have a void that I can't heal. It physically hurts.
We ended up breaking up, both of us crying. I kissed her for the last time. The saddest kiss in history. I said to her that maybe is just a "see you later" rather than a final goodbye. She said she hopes it turns out that way.
I'm broken. I wish ending it was as easy as starting it was.
I'm going to study abroad for a whole year starting in September. It was going to be difficult, but I wanted to make it work. I start my exam session on Monday, and I can’t study. She was probably waiting for me to finish. But it couldn’t be.
It’s also hard because I was very integrated into her family, and I feel like I’ve lost them too.
I feel like it's wrong. That it shouldn’t end this way. I have the urge to write to her. To tell her that we still have time before it’s too late. It doesn’t feel right. I'm devastated. I don’t know what to do. I need help.
—- Thinking of sending her this:
Hello. I know I said I wouldn't write to you again, but I had the worst night of my life and if I don't do this, I will regret it forever.
Nothing could have prepared me for what happened yesterday. I don't feel like what we've done is right. I don't feel like we've talked enough. We haven't had the chance to really sit down and discuss it. I don't want to believe that everything we've built has vanished overnight. I didn't feel that way yesterday. Everything has happened so fast.
With this message, I just want to say that if you're having doubts about whether you did the right thing yesterday, tell me. Before it's too late. Whatever it takes. Even if we need to sit down in therapy, I'll pay for the sessions, I don't care.
You don't have to respond immediately. You can take some time and reflect on it. If the answer is no, I'll accept it. But at least I want to have a clear conscience knowing that I tried until the end.

They are one of the OGs of YouTube, and I would love to see the thought process that goes into long term content creation without feeling burnt out.
John and Hank co-founded Crash Course, Hank is relatively successful on TikTok for the science debunk etc., and John is famous for writing The Fault in our Stars. They do a lot more cool stuff. Not sure if I wanna list everything here.
Here is their YouTube Channel for those of y'all that don't know them: https://www.youtube.com/@vlogbrothers