Games nowadays are criminally targeted exclusively towards 18-30yo male guys with some to girls in the same age range. If you look back at the history of our industry, I's usually been the kids to late teens where the focus has been, with most series that would become icons being targeted towards them (Mario, Sonic, TLoZ, Kirby, Pokémon, etc). This makes sense, as it's in those early stages of life when you can basically get someone's fidelity and turn them into a customer for the rest of his life, but now kids don't really go buy games anymore, this industry has forgotten about them, and with them playing mostly free-to-play games and no buying games anymore, how are we supposed to get them back so this industry is not only able to create more and new icons, but survive the eventual departure of all those who got hooked on this hobby when the industry still cared about that age range?
It would not only take targeting the games towards younger age ranges or coming up with easily recognizable characters, we have to design those games thinking about the social component, without disregarding the competitive factor, and with a clear appeal they can see even in a TikTok video so they get hooked. Actually selling the games would be a huge problem on itself, as kids do not use Steam nor buy online things, while the physical market is dying, but we cannot rely on free-to-play games cause then we're back where we started. How would you design this hypothetical game? What would be your go-to principles to finally get the kid market back?

[Part 1]
Day 3
I woke the next morning from the sunshine in my eyes. My head was resting ever so slightly on Eli's arm as we had both fallen asleep on my bed after I begged him to stay. I blanched in horror at the drool stain I had left on the arm of his white t-shirt.
I began to slowly move myself and retreat downstairs as the memories of the night before came flooding back. How I had broken, screaming in terror, and how Eli had saved me, not knowing the true reason he found me curled up on the floor crying.
As I stepped off the bed, my leg got snagged in the frilly bed cover, and I went crashing to the ground, making quite the noise as I landed. With a yawn, Eli's eyes opened, and I felt myself blushing as he turned to look at me.
We both kind of stared at each other for a moment, not speaking. Eli opened his mouth, then closed it again as if unsure of what to say.
"Coffee?" I asked quickly, filling the awkwardness of our situation.
"Please," Eli said, smiling.
In minutes, I had a pot brewing as I leaned against the kitchen counter. Eli was picking up the scattered photographs from the floor and looking at them quizzically.
"Why do you have pictures of the Harmons?" Eli asked, showing me the photos of the yellow-haired man and his family.
"Is that their names? I found them out in the barn under a blanket," I answered as I rooted around the cupboards for two mugs.
"In the barn? I cleaned it out just last week. No way I would have missed this trunk," Eli said while examining the wooden trunk with its simple rustic hinges. It was plain and unadorned with any embellishments. Basic as basic could be.
"Well, you must have missed it because it was there," I said, putting emphasis on the "was" in a way that reminded me of my mother chastising my father.
"That's so weird," he said, shifting through the photos while sitting at the table. I brought him a cup of coffee and sugar, and he began absentmindedly adding a lot of sugar to his coffee. About six scoops later, he began stirring and sipping it.
"Well, anyways, thanks for coming last night. I wasn't myself, I hope you know that I'm not some damsel in distress," I said quickly, like word vomit, and I even chuckled at the end, feeling like a total weirdo.
"What happened anyway? You didn't say last night," he said, putting the photos down in a jumble on the table.
I paused for a moment, considering how to answer. As I sipped my coffee, I stared out into the yard beside the barn where the scarecrow stood, glancing around the edge of the barn, hanging limply in his hole. His appearance once again sad and dejected instead of murderous and terrifying.
"I was just scared, I had a nightmare, and it just scared me," I said dumbly, trying not to turn crimson again under his intense gaze.
His eyes seemed to cut right through my lie, as if he were staring directly into my being before he simply glanced away out the window. We fell silent again, and I filled some moments by sipping my drink. It seemed to revitalize me; the sun and the company made me feel secure.
"Why were you here anyways?" I asked after a moment.
"I heard screaming, so I came running. I live just on the other side of the grass there, behind the barn," Eli said, pointing to the barn out the window.
"Must be really close, I didn't see any houses on the way in," I said, prying deeper into the situation.
"It's actually a trailer, maybe like two hundred yards from here. I was outside getting some air when I heard you scream. So, I came running," Eli said, finishing his cup of coffee and placing it in between us like a barrier, as if he was hiding something.
"Could you, uh, not do that?" Eli asked, with an uncertain grin on his face.
"What am I doing exactly?" I asked, startled for a moment, my stomach doing a sort of flip.
"It's just that you like stare at people. You've been staring at me for like my whole cup of coffee, I don't think you blinked the whole time," Eli said, averting his eyes shyly.
"No, I don't," I said until I realized he was right. I never noticed that about myself.
"Right, well, I've got to go. I am probably going to start painting today, so you might see me in a bit," Eli said, rising and heading to the door.
"Wait," I said, grabbing his arm for only a moment before releasing it like it was scalding hot.
Eli glanced at my hand for a moment, then at his arm, before he, too, blushed crimson.
"I just wanted to say thank you again. For last night, I mean. Well, what I mean is I appreciate it," I said, my eyes downcast in, for some reason, shame. Like he had seen me at my weakest and it weighed on my gaze appropriately.
"It was nothing, besides I didn't get much sleep with your constant snoring," Eli said, laughing at me.
"I so don't snore," I said, swatting at him but unable to control a smile creeping up onto my face.
After Eli left, I felt instantly colder, my eyes kept returning to the scarecrow. I grabbed my camera from upstairs and went out to the yard. I scanned the dirt for anything out of the ordinary. There was no blood, or anything on the dirt where the scarecrow stood just last night. I slowly made my way to the scarecrow, but nothing happened. I snapped a photo of the inanimate object, and it didn't even flinch. I poked it, but all I felt was straw underneath its clothes. I removed its mask, expecting a severed head, but it was just straw. Nothing was here but straw. I dropped the mask on the ground and took another photo proving it was just straw and nothing else.
An idea struck me as I regarded the source of my torment. If I planned to stay even one more night here, I needed to do something about this scarecrow. I rooted around in the barn, a series of tools hung from nails in the wall. On one hung what I was searching for. An old rusted shovel with a dirty wooden handle that was worn smooth from use.
I returned to the side of the barn beside the scarecrow, knowing for whatever reason this thing only came when night fell and didn't react at all when I moved or touched it during the day.
Before my morning coffee had even settled, I began to dig at the dusty earth, loose and easy to dig, it came away in shovelfuls. Within an hour, I had a fair-sized hole in front of me. Sweat dripped from my brow, and when I wiped under my eyes, they came away black from last night's makeup. Glancing at the field of grass and knowing Eli could appear at any time, I decided to head inside and shower. The hot water was a godsend, and I lingered for longer, letting the water drain down my head and back, my eyes closed, trying to forget the images from the last two nights. I should just pack up my car and leave right this minute. But how could I explain this to my family? I decided to go through with my plan and bury the scarecrow. I could last one more night if I prepared for it.
I left the shower and dressed modestly, in another one of my old rock t-shirts and a pair of shorts. I returned to the yard and with a satisfying push, I dropped the scarecrow into the pit. It fell with a nice thud, and I smiled at my power over it in the day; it's just at night when I should fear it.
As I threw the first shovel of dirt back on top, I heard a noise in the grass, and it parted, revealing Eli wearing the same pair of jeans and work boots, but he had changed his shirt to a plain black one. In each hand, he held cans of paint and a brush.
"Should I even ask why you are burying that old scarecrow?" He asked as he came to stand beside me.
"Probably best if you didn't," I admitted, leaning on the shovel.
"Well, I'm going to anyway. Polly, why are you burying that old scarecrow?" He asked, a rare smile coming to his face.
"Because it's been haunting me at night," I said bluntly.
"Mhm, yeah, okay. Fine, don't tell me. I've been meaning to get rid of it anyway, but normal people take things to the landfill," Eli said with a smirk as he turned to the house and began setting up for his painting.
I finished burying the scarecrow and stomped the dirt down flat. I finished my job by moving my car and parking it directly over top of the spot where I buried it.
Eli watched me curiously but didn't remark. I returned the shovel to the barn and went out into the yard. I decided to go for a hike around the property. I needed some time alone to think and unwind.
As I made my way through the grass, it began to confuse me. This had obviously been a large farmland, but how had the wild plants grown in such a thick, endless maze of greenery?
It gave me an eerie feeling, like I was being watched as the grass covered three-quarters of my body, like there would be something lurking out in the grass, crouched low, waiting for me.
After a half-hour or so, I came upon a clear lake, only big enough to be considered an old swimming hole, I thought as I dipped my hand into the cool water.
I took off my outer clothes and decided to go for a swim. I lowered myself in slowly and reveled at the cool water. The pond wasn't deep, but the water was clean. A small rope swing had been hung from a large oak tree that bordered the pond. It also provided a nice layer of shade that made it the ideal spot to spend the day. I floated on my back in the water for what seemed like hours. The day seemed to slip away from me. A small beach of sand sat at one side of the pond, so I lay out in the sun and closed my eyes. The warm day warmed my soul, and soon I felt myself drifting off into sleep.
I awoke to the sound of crickets and darkness. I couldn't believe it. I had slept through the day; the long nights had finally caught up to me, and now I was stuck far away from the farmhouse. I didn't know if my plan with the scarecrow had worked, and this wasn't the place to test my theory.
A full moon lay overhead, casting a silvery glow on the world before me. A sea of grass swayed gently in the wind, sending shivers down it in shuddering waves. I looked around, but I was thankfully alone, just the crickets chirping along melodically as my only companions.
I had to make it back to the house, so I started on my way, my hands trailing along the tall grass. The pale light played easily on the deep green grass. Step by step, I made my way back towards the farmhouse and the barn, throwing caution to the wind, and I started to jog along, anything to get back faster. I would have to find Eli; maybe if we were together, he could stop it like before.
If I thought the field was creepy during the day, by night, it was a whole new world. Every sound made my heart stop for a beat before restarting in protest. When all of a sudden, the crickets stopped chirping. I dropped to my knees, letting the long grass cover me from sight. Through the strands, I could make out a shape moving slowly through the tall grass, the swish of the plants as it made its passage through them. My heart dropped. Was this Eli looking for me, or was it the scarecrow come for me?
That's when I heard a voice, a voice cutting through the silence. It started off quiet and raspy as it sang an eerie children's song.
"Did you, did you, did you come for me?
Run and hide, don't you know that I seek
The world it claims that I be not clean
When I come, you'll see how filthy I can be.
Tonight, it is happening, tonight you'll see
Beneath the moon, my shadows they do creep.
In this world, at night I shall be free.
Tonight it's happening, tonight you'll see.
When I come, you had better flee, or else I'll come and give my filth to thee."
I was frozen to the spot. It hadn't found me, but it knew I was in the grass somewhere. Now, with each word, chewed up and spat out like it was unhappy with it, now it was accompanied by the whistle of something in the air and a slicing sound as it cut through the grass around me.
It finished another round of its song, but now it stood within feet of me, its blade whistling as it cut. I took a moment to ready myself, and as it raised its blade to cut through the grass I hid in, I dashed out of my hiding spot and slammed into it. But nothing resisted me; I fell through it like it was a ghost.
In a tangle of limbs, I landed hard on the ground and tried quickly rolling to my feet. The blade of its weapon pierced the earth beside me. Now I could see it was a two-handed scythe the scarecrow carried, but something was off, its hands were human. Pale milky skin like a newborn baby. I had little time to examine the creature except for the canvas bag over its head. Two large black eyes came out of the slits that leaked a dark red blood like tears.
It screeched loudly and swung its scythe, but it was slow, and I took off through the grass in the direction of what I hoped was the farmhouse.
I completely gave up all pretense of hiding and sprinted as fast as I could without looking back. The grass seemed to part for me as I ran in terror. I was just glad that in high school, I had taken track as it was paying off now.
I could hear the noise of footsteps behind me, but I never turned. I ran and ran until my lungs felt like they were going to burst Something silver flashed to my left, and I tripped over something hard and unexpected. The wind was driven from my lungs as my chin slammed hard into the earth. I scrambled back, trying to escape, but the scarecrow was on me, its blade flashing angrily in the pale moonlight.
I wanted to move, I wanted to fight, but my body was weak and unable to catch its breath, and I lay there helpless as it swung its scythe towards me. I closed my eyes in fear, but I only heard the thud of dirt before I opened my eyes. The scythe was discarded, and the scarecrow stood staring at me.
It seemed to be struggling with something, one hand reached out towards me only to be snapped back to its side. A roar of rage pierced the canvas sack over its head as it struggled against its invisible bonds. For a moment, I thought I saw something behind it, three sets of hands holding it back. One feminine in nature, and the other two must have belonged to children. In a flash, I saw a beautiful woman who looked vaguely familiar with her long brown hair and plain dress.
"Run," she moaned as the scarecrow swung around wildly.
I didn't hesitate and fled, my breath had returned, and while my body still ached from my fall, I powered on, knowing this was the only respite I would receive tonight.
In the distance, I could see a small sheet metal shape; Eli's trailer was slowly coming closer as I ran, and I beelined it for the trailer. I could hear the footsteps behind me again as the scarecrow resumed its chase after me.
I reached the old trailer and banged on the door as loud as I could; I rattled the handle, but it was locked.
"Eli, it's me. It's Polly, please let me in. Please," I begged as I banged over and over again on the door of his trailer.
Nothing responded to me, and the trailer was dark. The single window in the back held no life inside the trailer. From the trailer, I couldn't tell which direction the farmhouse was in the dark, so I fled into the tall grass and crouched low, watching the clearing around the trailer.
While I caught my breath, I watched the scarecrow enter the clearing, its scythe back in its hand as it circled the trailer. When its raspy voice began singing again low and quiet, only loud enough for me to hear.
"Did you, did you, did you come for me?
Run and hide, don't you know that I seek
The world it claims that I be not clean
When I come, you'll see how filthy I can be.
Tonight, it is happening, tonight you'll see
Beneath the moon, my shadows they do creep.
In this world, at night, I shall be free.
Tonight it's happening, tonight you'll see.
When I come, you had better flee, or else I'll come and give my filth to thee."
The song made me shiver uncontrollably at the lyrics and the voice; it sounded demented like a crazy person letting their demons out into a nursery rhyme.
I lay perfectly still; for some reason, it couldn't find me. This creature I assumed was all-knowing seemed to have some very human weaknesses. It moved and talked like a human, even had certain body parts that were from a human; it even felt human the way it chased and reacted.
The scarecrow moved on through the tall grass, and I let out a sigh of relief as it lost my trail. How terrifying that beast was. In my pocket was the keys to my car. Eli had told me that the farmhouse was fairly close to his trailer. I had to navigate to the car, then drive as fast as I can away from this place. The fact that I hadn't left already because I was worried about money was insane. Who cares, I could drive to Barb's and demand my money back. Go home and just tell my parents the truth. The whole reason for actually leaving home this summer, why I was actually here in this field shivering uncontrollably in fear. But I couldn't think about that now, not now, there will be time to deal with that later. Now I needed to focus on staying alive, getting to the car, and getting out of here.
I went in the direction the scarecrow had; he knew the land better than I did, and every noise I made in the silence of the night made my heart drop. It took all my courage there and then to take one step forward, then another. I felt like I was going to be sick; my stomach was in knots to where it felt like even if I was sick, the only thing to come out would be only bile and stomach acid.
With each careful step, I made my way closer to the farmhouse and the scarecrow. Through the darkness, I could see my goal, the farmhouse, and the barn. Within minutes, I had made it securely to the farmhouse yard.
My car still sat in the same spot overtop of the hole where I buried the scarecrow. In the moonlight, I could see that the dirt had not been disturbed.
The scarecrow was nowhere to be seen, and I cautiously made my way to my car, my keys in my hand as I approached the driver's door. I hadn't locked the car, and it opened on the first try. I turned on my car as quietly as I could, but nothing could have prepared me for what happened next.
Something landed heavily on top of the roof of my car, making it dent inwards slightly. With horror, I saw the scarecrow swing its scythe into the back window of my car. With a crash, the glass shattered inwards; I put my car into gear and roared away down the lane. In my rearview mirror, I couldn't see anything, so I swerved back and forth, trying to shake the creature from the roof of my car when the scythe crashed in through the front window, making a hole just large enough for it.
The glass spidered, and I couldn't see out the window very well. I swerved down the road, but the scythe remained in the car, allowing the creature purchase. In a panic, I spun my wheel wildly, trying to dislodge it, but I lost control, and soon felt something crash into the front of my car. The airbag went off in my face, and I hadn't been wearing my seatbelt. I slammed hard into something else, and my vision went dark. I was in a daze; I must have passed out because I don't remember a lot of what happened next. I felt the car door open with a crunching tear, and it landed loudly as it was torn off. My body being grabbed and tossed on the ground. I felt no pain, just a gentle numbness. I felt blood on my head as I raised my arm to touch my face.
Then just blackness, complete, and empty just feelings, fear, unease, sadness. My eyes opened, and the scarecrow was overtop of me. Pain on my chest and my vision went dark again. Coughing as something poured down my throat. I couldn't breathe, why couldn't I breathe?
My eyes opened one last time, and I saw the scarecrow pouring a dark liquid from its mouth directly into my mouth and eyes. My vision was red and bloody before I closed them one last time.
The words of its song echoed into the emptiness of my thoughts.
"Did you, did you, did you come for me?
Run and hide, don't you know that I seek?
The world it claims that I be not clean.
When I come, you'll see how filthy I can be.
Tonight, it is happening, tonight you'll see,
Beneath the moon, my shadows they do creep.
In this world, at night, I shall be free.
Tonight it's happening, tonight you'll see.
When I come, you had better flee, or else I'll come and give my filth to thee."
The darkness enveloped me, and I felt myself slipping away, the sounds of the night fading into oblivion.
Day 4
When I awoke, it was morning, and I found myself lying in a hospital bed. My head throbbed with pain, and my body ached all over. The memories of the terrifying night flooded back to me, and I shuddered involuntarily.
A nurse entered the room, her kind eyes filled with concern. "You're awake," she said softly, her voice gentle like a soothing balm. "You're lucky to be alive. You were found unconscious by the side of the road next to your car. Do you remember what happened?"
I tried to speak, but my throat felt raw and dry. I croaked out a few words, barely audible. "The scarecrow... it attacked me..."
The nurse frowned, her brows furrowing in confusion. "Scarecrow? What scarecrow?"
My heart raced with panic as I realized the truth. Had it all been a nightmare? But the pain in my body felt too real, the memories too vivid to be mere hallucinations.
I tried to explain, to tell her about the terrifying creature that had pursued me through the night, but she only looked at me with concern, as if I were delusional.
"I'll get the doctor, and there is a young man who brought you in. He has been here all morning," the nurse said with a sly wink.
After a few minutes, she came back with Eli and a doctor, both of whom smiled gently at me through the window. The doctor came in first and went over my health with me. I had a concussion and bruises all over my body. A generous-sized cut from some glass on my scalp had been stitched and bandaged. My mind flashed back to the night before. How the scarecrow had filled me with its gooey red blood.
"Did you find anything else?" I asked cautiously, trying to avoid another scandal like with the nurse.
"No, as long as you have someone to pick you up and take you home, you are free to go. That nice young man out there said he would take you back home," the doctor said, pointing to Eli as he rose with a slight grunt.
I glanced at Eli, and he waved uncertainly at me. The doctor went out and began talking to Eli for a few minutes.
While I waited, my mind began to have strange thoughts. Something was wrong; I felt weird. My vision turned red, and I began to see images before my eyes.
The Harmons. They flashed before my eyes in real-time—the husband hugging his wife, then swinging his kids around, chopping wood outback next to the barn while his wife cooked in the kitchen.
As Eli entered the room, the visions stopped suddenly. Like my saving angel for the third time now, I was extremely grateful to Eli.
"Heyyyyy," Eli said, elongating the word in a sort of familiar yet awkward way.
"Hi," I said, closing my eyes and letting my embarrassment pass in only a few seconds.
"Why is it that fifty percent of the times we meet, you're in serious trouble?" Eli asked, coming to sit on the edge of my bed.
"Oh, you know me, bad luck, I guess," I said simply, becoming aware that under my blankets, I was in a backless hospital gown, and he was inches away from me.
I pulled the blanket up to my chin as a sort of cover for my appearance, but Eli didn't seem to notice. He continued talking to me. It was actually really sweet the way he seemed to care for me.
"Anyways, the doctor said I could take you back to the farmhouse to rest," Eli said.
"No," I said suddenly, becoming serious.
"What? Why not?" Eli asked.
"I just, I just can't right now. I'll tell you later. Just, we can't spend the night anywhere near the farm," I said, grabbing him by the arm, hoping to sway him.
"Well, I mean, if you want, we can grab your stuff, and my house can literally go anywhere," Eli said in an offhand manner, as if he had expected this.
"Promise?" I asked, trying not to seem too afraid.
Within the hour, we had returned to the farmhouse. The hole I dug was still covered over, and I stared at it as we parked in Eli's black pickup truck.
I ran inside and quickly got changed into my only clean clothes, grabbing everything I had from the farmhouse. I paused at the dinner table, looking down at the photographs of the Harmons and thinking back to that weird moment in the hospital with that odd vision.
The day was getting longer, and I hurried back to Eli, waiting in the pickup truck. I threw my bag in the back and climbed in beside him. He smiled and backtracked down the lane. We turned to the left and went down a side road where we came upon my poor old car. It had crashed directly into a tree, and the whole front part of the car had been destroyed. Fluid leaked all over the road, and I almost shed a tear for my departed friend. We had traveled far together. I grabbed a few things from the car, but something was off about the car. The front door had been knocked off and was discarded on the far side of the road. It looked impossible; the door hadn't even hit the tree.
Eli hooked his truck up to his trailer, and we sped off, leaving the property behind us. We headed into town and found a pullout on the side of the road with a set of bathrooms to camp at for the night. Eli's trailer was messy but cozy. He had laundry strewn over most surfaces, but it didn't smell bad.
The room consisted of a small kitchen with a bed in one corner. There were also a lot of posters and artwork on the walls. I examined one of a pretty girl with long raven-black hair. It was a realist painting, obviously taken from real life.
"Who is this?" I asked as Eli made us some food.
"That is just a friend," Eli said, glancing at the painting he had done.
"Well, she is a pretty friend," I said, enjoying watching the back of his ears turn bright red.
"Dinner's ready," he said, pouring the mixture of food he had made onto a pair of plates.
Eli served me and handed me a can of Coke to drink. I thanked him and sat on his bed. It was the only serviceable piece of furniture in the whole trailer. We both sat in silence for a moment while we ate. I could tell something was bothering Eli as he kept making glances toward me.
"What? What is it, Eli? Just say it," I said between bites.
"Tell me what happened, Polly. Tell me why you were burying the scarecrow, why you were passed out in the road with straw in your hair. Tell me why you were muttering about the Harmons and a scarecrow when I found you," Eli said suddenly, as if he were unloading a machine gun.
I looked Eli square in the face and relented. I told him about the last couple of nights at the farmhouse, about how the scarecrow had been tormenting me every night. About how he had saved me and how last night I had fled through the fields to his trailer and then to my car. I told him about the vision I had about the Harmons in the hospital. By the end of it, I was in tears. I felt so foolish and childish.
Eli took it in stride. He asked a few questions during my retelling, but by the end of it, he was silent. Tears fell down my face and landed in my lap. We had both put our plates on the counter, and Eli hugged me. He put his arms around me, and I nuzzled into his shoulder, feeling comforted again in him at the lowest points of my life.
With a gentle hand, he wiped away my tears, and I smiled, letting a nervous laugh escape my lips. I looked up into his face and felt his stare before I saw it. His pale blue eyes shone with comfort, and then his lips were on mine as he kissed me quickly before pulling away slightly.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that. That was insensitive of me. You're sad, and I took advantage of that," Eli said, moving back slightly.
"Shut up," I said, and grabbed his shirt, bringing him back in.

I'm struggling in my marriage lately and could use some advice.
Quick summary: My wife and I are in our late 30s and have been together for nearly 20 years since we were 18. We have two wonderful children (a baby and a preschooler). We've been best friends, overall have had a happy, loving, mostly drama free life together. Our biggest issue over the years has been that I'm high libido, my wife has low libido, and I've often felt my wife can be a bit self absorbed and not really put in much effort to meet me in the middle when it comes to our love languages, putting in effort for each other, etc. I've always felt like the partner who cared more about quality time and emotional intimacy as well.
In the past year or so, we had the most drama we've ever had in 20 years when my wife admitted to me that she had always been lying to me about our first months dating - she had always said she was never with anyone else since our first date (our relationship anniversary we had always celebrated as a sweet holiday) and she actually was secretly still going to see her high school ex boyfriend during that time (who had cheated on her) and apparently had sex with him just once during that time. She also admitted that she had cheated on me (just kissing) with another person during that time. She only admitted this to me because I had suspected her of lying and did something wrong myself by reading parts of her personal journal (in which I read that she had recently been "infatuated" with a work colleague and had also been dreaming about, sexually fantasizing about, and occasionally dwelling on her high school ex over the years (who she had cut off contact with nearly 20 years ago), even looking him up recently and crying while seeing his current life, but saying that she was mad about how he treated her and that me and our kids deserve her more than he does). I also had read that she wasn't attracted to me at times and had issues with my weight gain over the years. We both apologized for the things we had done wrong and wanted to work to be better.
This all led to us having many emotional discussions and working to improve our relationship and be closer, and I basically went into a depression for many months after learning about her cheating and thoughts about other men. I lost a lot of weight and got in the best shape I've been in for many years. My wife was trying to put in some effort to talk with me and be closer, but I was often frustrated because even after learning about the cheating and everything, it still felt like I was responsible for initiating discussions and leading our work together: I downloaded relationship apps for us to do together and have intimate conversations about, etc.
During this time I asked my wife what things would make her feel closer with me, and she said she "needs emotional intimacy to want physical intimacy" and that she'd like to do regular date nights where we take turns planning them for each other. I wanted to do that for her so we started them. The first date nights I led, I put a lot of thought into and wrote her a love letter, planned romantic activities. Then when it was her turn to lead date night, it was clear she hadn't planned anything. Didn't prepare anything. She wanted to reschedule hers at the last minute sometimes because she was tired from work or something. This continued for a while until finally we both just stopped the date nights because it felt more like a chore.
I was still processing the cheating and my own insecurities for a while, and I started therapy for the first time ever, read books, listened to podcasts, learned about attachment theory and felt insights that my wife might have avoidant attachment and be averse to intimacy, while I think I've generally been secure, but I lean toward anxious when I feel threatened. But I was sad because while I was doing all this learning, my wife seemed to be doing nothing to try and learn and discuss with me and work on things.
I tried a few times over the months to gently mention that to her and ask her about if she was doing anything like this in her own therapy, but she would get defensive and say it "feels like she can never do enough" and basically to get off her back about it (even though I would ask rarely and try to be very kind and understanding about it). Basically I was just feeling sad that she didn't seem to care or want to put in the effort like I was (and I told her this, but again, same responses).
My wife has been kind of obsessed with work and busy, but it's felt like when she does have time she hasn't been prioritizing me or our marriage, while I have been. I've tried to give her hugs or be closer to her and she often bristles and doesn't seem interested. She hasn't been putting any effort into her appearance, especially not for me (she seems to care more about looking good at work than looking good for me) while I feel like I'm always wanting to look good for her. She's turned me down for physical intimacy quite a bit recently and basically if I don't initiate, we can go for a month without any sex easily. She just doesn't seem to have any libido at all.
Learning about her cheating and thoughts of other people made me feel really insecure about how she thinks of me and if she's really attracted to me. Since I'm finally in better shape, I've felt more confident but she hasn't been making me feel desired by her. I've never been with anyone other than her in my life, and I've been feeling less attracted to her since it feels like she isn't that interested in me romantically, and I've been thinking more about wanting to feel desired and loved, and kind of wanting to have a woman flirt with me or hit on me or something just to feel validated.
Recently I tried sharing with her how I'm feeling sad and a bit unwanted by her, wondering if she's attracted to me or if it's really low libido on her part, feeling like I'm old and not having the love and intimacy I want in a marriage. She seemed so thrown off by that, said she does just have very low libido and doesn't really think about sex, and she is attracted to me. I tried to let her know that regardless of that, I feel like she hasn't been prioritizing or putting effort into being close with me, and when I've tried to do those things she seems uninterested.
Her response is that she's just so busy with work, and we have two young kids and it's difficult, and she just has no energy for any of that. We split our parenting duties equally, I do most of the cleaning in our household, we both work full time, but I feel like I still want to put in effort for our marriage and closeness but she doesn't. Her view seems to be that she just can't, doesn't have the ability, whereas I feel like she finds the energy to do lots of other things she wants to do - she's just not prioritizing me and us. Again, it feels like I have to push her repeatedly to ever have intimacy with her of any type. She acknowledges that she has intimacy issues as well and is avoidant, but then will still insist that she just doesn't have energy for what I want.
It feels like there's always an excuse, and while I want to be understanding and gentle with her about it, I'm just feeling lonely in my marriage. Even when I try to reach out to her and emotionally explain this, it's like she brushes it off and doesn't seem too worried about me. Or if I say I want more intimacy, physically and emotionally, she tends to hone in on just the sexual part like that's all I want, but I want to feel close, in love. I want her to love me and desire me. But the less I feel that from her, the less I feel it towards her, and that worries me.
What can I do in this situation? Is there any way to get through to her? I can't imagine ever leaving her, we love our family and our children, but I feel kind of like I'm stuck in a situation where I'm not feeling fulfilled... I was content with that before I learned about the cheating and her lying to me, but ever since that it's harder for me to accept her not putting in effort or prioritizing our marriage and responding to all of my efforts.

Hello, Im from Austria and I just made my first own card game. The current name of the game is Zervana. The game is about making tricks and reducing your score to 0. I am not a artist and this was the first of these kinds of projects I made but I designed the cards myself, and would like to hear your opinion on the design. The game is for 3 to 6 players.
I first made a prototype and printed the cards myself and after playtesting I decided to get the cards printed. I now have 10 packs. I would like to sell my game, so my question now is what would be the best way to get a publisher to publish my game or is it best to do it on my own? My current idea would be to just sent a pack to different publisher but I don't know if they would even look at it. I would appreciate advice on what the best steps would be.
If you are interested in this project I will make a follow-up post. I would love to hear your feedback on the idea, the art and the game itself. Below are the rules of the game.
Thanks for reading!

Game Setup

• Players: 3 to 5
• Deck: Cards numbered 0 to 12 in four colors, plus one joker.
  • For 3 players: Use cards 5-12 in each color plus the joker (33 cards total).
  • For 4 players: Use cards 3-12 in each color plus the joker (41 cards total).
  • For 5 players: Use all cards plus the joker (53 cards total).

Dealing and Card Exchange

• Deal 5 cards to each player.
• Players can exchange up to 4 cards from their hand with new ones from the deck after the trump is declared.

Objective

The first player to reduce their score to 0 wins the game. Each player starts with 20 points.

Bidding Phase

• The player to the left of the dealer makes a prediction of how many tricks they think they can win if they choose the trump suit.
• The other players have three options
  • Predict more tricks than the previous player (at least one more).
  • Call: Play the game without predicting or choosing the trump suit.
  • Fold: Opt out of the round.
• The dealer can match the highest prediction by calling "self" instead of predicting higher.

Trump Selection

• The player with the highest prediction declares the trump color.
• All players can then exchange up to 4 cards from their hand with new ones

Playing the Round

• The player who declared the trump suit starts by playing the first card.
• Players must follow the suit if possible; if not, they can play any card.
• The player who won the trick starts next round by playing a card.

Card Values

• Higher cards beat lower cards within the same suit.
• Trump cards beat non-trump cards.
• The first cards suit of the round beats all other suits unless trump suit.
• The joker is always the second highest card in the trump suit.

Scoring

• Each trick won: -1 point.
• Player who chose the trump must meet or exceed their prediction. If they fail:
  • +5 points for not meeting the prediction.
  • +1 point for each trick they fall short.
• Folding: +1 point.

Winning

• Players start the game at 20 points , the game continues with rounds until a player’s score reaches 0, making them the winner.

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https://preview.redd.it/jmgkd0r4ws1d1.jpg?width=1536&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=34a63968a74d447639732bd8746bc729b81a697f
https://preview.redd.it/43ryh2n6ws1d1.jpg?width=1536&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=a9e09df622eb9e35d4e77907f179982521fcf487

With the fighter now getting Tactical Mind at level 2, able to convert Second Wind uses into ability check boosts, this presents an open question: is the fighter now more effective in out-of-combat ability checks at early levels than the rogue, the classic skill monkey class? And what about the barbarian's Primal Knowledge, and the guidance cantrip?

Tactical Mind

The rogue, relative to the fighter, has Expertise in two skills over proficiency, which starts at +2, and two additional skill proficiencies (four instead of two) and one tool proficiency (Thieves' Tools), also +2. The fighter's Tactical Mind works on any ability check that can be failed (so excludes initiative, but includes non-skill checks) and adds 1d10, with the use only consumed if this pushes the check from a failure to a success.
To start, let's assume that we're only dealing with a skill that the rogue has a relative +2 advantage in. We'll compare a rogue with +3 Dex and Expertise in stealth (total +7) to a fighter with +3 Dex and only proficiency (total +5), and the DC will be 15. The rogue has a simple 65% chance of success. The fighter has a 55% chance of succeeding baseline, but on a failure can expend Second Wind to add 1d10. This brings their overall success rate to 82%, but there's an overall 27% chance that the fighter expends one use of Second Wind, so this bonus only works for an estimated 3.7 ability checks per use.
If the fighter only budgets a single use of Second Wind to this (as they now have exactly one extra use compared to 2014, with some marginal exceptions), then they have an 82% chance of success for 3.7 checks and 55% chance of success for the remaining checks. If we take the weighted averages, then with three checks they have an 82% success rate, with four they have 80%, with six 72%, and with ten 65% (calculated as (3.782+6.355)/10). It takes ten ability checks made over the course of the adventuring day, that are specifically among the five that the rogue has an edge over the fighter on, for the rogue to pull ahead, and that seems unrealistic.
(There's one specific factor that may make this likely, the rogue may use Cunning Action in combat to frequently Hide, making a Stealth check each time. However, for our purposes we should exclude these, as that's just how the rogue operates differently from the fighter in combat, and isn't itself how the rogue is uniquely contributing to the party's out-of-combat experience. Out-of-combat stealthing is a different story, but involves far fewer checks.)
However, that was with the fighter using Tactical Wind at the bare minimum. If they allocate both Second Wind uses to Tactical Mind, then they have an 82% chance of success for an estimated 7.4 checks, and an overall 75% success rate across ten checks, and it takes twenty checks to drop to 65%. If we account for two short rests each restoring one Second Wind use, then we sustain the 82% success rate for 14.8 checks, and don't drop to an overall 65% success rate until forty checks, all within the five checks the rogue favors, which enters the realm of absurdity and extreme outliers.
At this point, you may object that the fighter can't allocate all of their Second Wind uses to ability checks, they should save some for healing except for on the occasional adventuring day with relatively little fighting. However, it's not like the fighter is especially fragile without Second Wind for healing, they'd still be more durable than the rogue overall. The fighter can choose between having superior skills over the rogue or having more healing, while the rogue cannot choose to convert their skill prowess into healing. Tactical Mind by all indications cost absolutely nothing from the fighter's power budget; in fact, the fighter only got stronger between UA5 and UA7 in Tier 1 by getting a Second Wind use on a short rest again. The rogue's Sneak Attack is roughly equivalent in combat boost to the fighter's martial weapons + Fighting Style.
Overall, I conclude that in Tier 1, levels 2-4, the fighter is plainly better than the rogue at ability checks even when only making the ability checks the rogue specialized in relative to the fighter, and far superior in the remaining ability checks. At level 5, this shifts only slightly. If we increase the DC to 17, the rogue now has a 70% success rate with Expertise, while the fighter's rate is unchanged. It now takes between six and seven checks for the fighter to drop to the rogue's success rate, per Second Wind use, but the fighter now has a base of three Second Winds (which actually increased at level 4, boosting the fighter before the rogue), so if they just expend the two extra compared to 2014, that's roughly thirteen checks, and if they use all five, roughly thirty-two.
It isn't until level 7 that the rogue can claim the skill champion title with Reliable Talent, assuming they chose frequently-used skills with DCs that they can always pass with a 10, though if the DC is too high for Reliable Talent, Tactical Mind still has the edge over Expertise.

Primal Knowledge

Comparison to the barbarian is considerably more complicated. At level 3, the barbarian gets Primal Knowledge, converting five skill checks into Strength while raging. In addition to inherent advantage, this also gives a flat bonus from using a higher skill, which varies considerably depending on the barbarian's stat allocation. The usefulness also depends on the power of these five specific skills, with Stealth and Perception generally considered very powerful and the others less so.
For simplicity, let's start by taking a barbarian with +3 Str, +2 Dex, and Stealth proficiency, and comparing them to a rogue with +3 Dex and Expertise. The rogue still has a 65% chance of success. The barbarian normally has 50% with a +4 bonus, but while raging they have a +5 bonus and advantage, for a 79.75% chance of success. This means that the barbarian is tied with the rogue if they are able to make their stealth checks while raging 50% of the time. At this level, they have three rages, and restore one per short rest for an estimated five, so maybe 50% is a reasonable estimate. (Unlike the fighter, I don't think the barbarian can afford to use Rage just for skill checks, as they dedicate far more of their power budget to Rage than the fighter dedicates to Second Wind.) These particular numbers fall by the wayside if the barbarian is wearing scale mail or half plate due to the inherent disadvantage, but not if they wear breastplate, though negating the disadvantage due to Rage is still a neat trick. They also don't account for any other potential sources of advantage that make the Rage advantage redundant.
We can also compare how they would do with Perception, widely considered a top-tier skill. The barbarian is more MAD than the rogue, so let's suppose the barbarian has +0 Wis and proficiency, while the rogue has +1 and took Expertise. Against DC15, the rogue has a 55% chance of success. The barbarian has a 40% chance normally, but raging takes this to again 79.75%. Now the barbarian is tied with the rogue if they are raging during 30% of their Perception checks, which may instead be on the low side.

Guidance

And then there's guidance, one of the most spammed cantrips in the game, now a reaction for even more convenience. While I wouldn't generally factor in spells like enhance ability for ability check comparisons as they eat up so much of the class's power budget, guidance is cheap to learn and free to cast. It adds an average +2.5 to a failed ability check, of any kind, which makes it inherently superior to the rogue's Expertise until level 5 and likely still better overall far beyond that. The only limitation is the reaction cost and the casting components, which may sometimes not be appropriate for the situation.
The good news is that it's possible to cast guidance on the rogue, but that still means that the caster is contributing more overall to the skill check than the rogue's inherent rogue-ness is. The rogue could also learn guidance via Magic Initiate, but that's a considerable ask when there are many other feats the rogue may be interested in, including Lucky, Alert, and even Magic Initiate but for the blade cantrips instead.

Conclusion

It seems strange to say, but until Reliable Talent kicks in and Expertise really kicks into gear with higher proficiency bonuses, rogues aren't that much better at ability checks than other classes, and now that some of these classes got ability check boosts, they spend a considerable amount of time as inferior skill monkeys. Maybe they need a flat bonus to all ability checks. Maybe they need a resource that they can spend on ability checks, which in a reverse from Second Wind can later be used in combat to fuel Cunning Strikes instead of costing d6s, borrowing from the now-to-be-redesigned Soulknife subclass. Many things can work, and I'd much sooner buff the rogue than remove these features from other classes, but I don't think the current state of the rogue puts it in a good spot for its skill check reputation.

I'm looking for tips and advice about what to do about my tax situation. I have been using the same tax preparer for 9 years and have never had something like this happen before. I moved across the country last year and my tax preparer said they could and would be happy to do my filing this past year.
I submitted all of my documents they would need by April 1st but my preparer did not file my taxes until May 3. They did file for an extension but I was never told they did this or that they were being filed late and had to pay state penalties. This year, they did not set up a meeting or call time to go over my taxes with me, which I thought was strange but given the lack of communication and delay, I was just happy to have them done finally.
Last week I received a letter in the mail stating there was an error on my taxes and that I owed more to my previous state of residence. I also revieved a voter ID card issued from my previous state. I only lived and worked in this state for 3 months last year before moving. I started reading through all of the paperwork I had received from the preparer and it appears that they filed my taxes stating that I am still a resident of my previous state and they filed a tax credit for the income tax I made in my current state with my previous state. It also seems that they may have used a copy of my expired drivers license from a previous year since I never had a chance to speak with my preparer and submit a copy of my new drivers license.
My vehicles, drivers license, voter registration, professional licenses, and home are all listed in my new state that I've lived in for over a year now. I recently applied to a graduate school program and in-state tuition. I'm worried how this mistake will affect my eligibility for financial aid and in-state tuition, as well as my profesional licenses, job, etc.
I left 3 voicemail and 2 emails last week and finally spoke to the tax preparer's secretary yesterday and she said to send then the letter stating I owe more to the previous state and my current drivers license and they would see what can be done. I have not been able to speak to the tax preparer, I can only speak with the secretary which is extremely frustrating.
The extreme lack of communication and professionalism has been very stressful and upsetting to say the least. I could understand a very technical error but filing someone's taxes in the wrong state entirely and screwing up thier college financial aid seem completly negligent. Should I even continue working with them to fix it or try to find someone else? My biggest concern is getting this fixed so that I can start college this fall and maintaining my licenses for my job.

William was just about to scoop another mouthful of porridge and berries into his mouth when someone scooted into the seat next to him.
“Marline.” He inclined his head before returning to breakfast.
A breakfast that, prior to his teammate’s arrival, had been blissfully free of noise or interruption.
Which made sense given that the ‘rise and shine’ bell wasn’t going to ring for another thirty minutes or so. To that end, the cafeteria was near empty, but for a few servants flitting around the place as they set tables or partook of their own breakfasts.
Breakfasts that were something of a step down from what was normally served at these tables, given that the usual heaped piles of hot sausages, crisp bacon and hearty eggs were still being prepared in the kitchens.
Still, on this occasion, that was fine by William. Sure, the main reason he’d told his team to rise a little earlier than normal was to allow them to dine in peace without being harassed by the rest of the rumour hungry student body, but it was also useful in that it somewhat limited some of his more… difficult teammate’s breakfast options.
“William,” the dark elf hissed as she leaned down. “We have a problem.”
Despite his early morning lethargy, those words managed to send something akin to a shiver up his spine.
“What!? What’s the problem?” he asked as he whirled around, remembering only at the last minute to keep his voice down.
Sure, the cafeteria was relatively empty of both staff and students, but it hadn’t escaped his notice that pretty much all of them had had their eyes on him since he sat down.
“What do you mean, ‘what’s the problem?’” Marline whispered furiously into his ear. “The fucking alchemy lab blew up last night.”
“Oh, that.” She’d gotten him all worked up for nothing. “Someone’s enchantment probably went awry after being kept in storage too long.”
That was a lie and they both knew it. He’d explained to Marline in great detail why trying to gain access to his storage room was a poor idea without him present. To that end, it was obvious that someone had attempted just that.
As such, the old alchemy building was now a smouldering ruin, with dozens of academy guards and at least one member of the palace guard sifting through the rubble when he walked past.
Or at least, they’d been watching over a dozen menial servants as they sifted through the rubble.
Still, no one had been too alarmed by it. It was hardly the first time the building had been destroyed after all.
Alchemy was by its nature a fairly dangerous art.
A form of homeopathic magic that attempted to imbue objects with magical abilities by combining them with conceptually similar items, it tended to both be prohibitively expensive and notoriously unreliable.
Left eyes from forty-year-old salamanders didn’t grow on trees after all. Nor testicles from albino bulls in heat. And that was the kind of specificity one needed to create a half-decent stamina potion.
There was a reason that alchemy was gradually being phased out in favour of the slower but more reliable art of enchanting.
“Yes, very unfortunate,” Marline said through gritted teeth. “But what about ‘our’ ingredients that were being kept in the building. It might be… dangerous of someone stumbled across them in the rubble.”
Dangerous? Gunpower couldn’t explode more than…
“Oh, you’re talking about the gift we were holding for your family?” He realized.
“Yes!”
“Why didn’t you check last night?” he asked.
“...I tend to wear earplugs when I sleep,” Marline admitted reluctantly. “Given… Verity.”
William glanced towards the young woman’s long elven ears and thought about their orcish teammate’s tendency to snore like she was trying to wake the dead. The inner walls of their dorm weren’t particularly thick and Marline’s room was right next to the other girl’s.
Yeah, he could see why she might have invested in some hearing protection.
A decent set of earplugs wouldn’t drown out the noise of the morning bell, but they’d be more than capable of drowning out the distant whumph of an alchemy lab going up on the opposite side of the campus.
He momentarily wondered if the noise had caused any of his other teammates to get up, before dismissing the idea.
Strange noises in the middle of the night were far from unusual in a military academy and usually best ignored unless you had a very good reason to think they might involve you.
“Well, it’s not a problem,” he whispered. “I moved it last night before heading back to the dorm.”
The look of relief on the dark elf’s face was palpable, before it gave way to confusion. “Why?”
He shrugged. “For the same reason I booby-trapped the storage room in the first place. Once it got out that I had a mithril core – and might have had something to do with Al’Hundra’s death, well it seemed like there was a decent chance someone might go snooping around places I might want to hide something.”
And the alchemy lab was just about the first place someone would think of right after their team’s dorm room.
Fortunately for him, there were a few places that were quite impractical for hiding something long-term, but pretty ideal in the short term.
And just so long as Marline’s aunts arrived before next Welday, the mithril core would be safe.
Though as he gazed down at the bowl of porridge in front of him, he found his appetite wasn’t quite what it had been just a few moments ago.
“So where’d you hide it?” Marline asked excitedly, clearly relieved that her family’s future wasn’t currently buried in rubble.
William paused as he considered how to answer that question. Something his teammate was quick to notice.
“William,” she prompted. “Where’s my family’s core?”
He gazed down at his bowl, still thinking.
“William!” she shouted as best she could while still whispering.
“The safest place I could think of. Somewhere it’d be covered completely and no one would voluntarily look.”
“Voluntarily?” Marline said. “Covered?”
Credit where credit was due, no one had ever accused his teammate of being slow on the uptake. At least, where politics wasn’t concerned. So it was that it wasn’t long before he witnessed her expression morph from confusion to horror… to rage.
“You buried my family’s mithril core in the latrines?!” she hissed.
William scratched his chin awkwardly as he avoided her furious gaze. “More like dropped. I didn’t need to bury it because it sank on its own. Which is good given I wasn’t quite sure of the relative buoyancy of mithril in… well… you know.”
In his defence, it had seemed like a good idea at the time. Indeed, if one were to be purely objective about the whole thing, it still was. The core was safely hidden at the bottom of one of the lesser used latrine pits. The bottom mounted… storage vats of which were pulled out and emptied into the bay once a week.
It was a fairly old fashioned system, given the existence of indoor plumbing across the rest of the academy. Indeed, he suspected the latrines were only kept around to serve as a form of punishment duty for any cadets that happened to royally piss off their instructors.
“They’ll be safe there until Welday,” William argued weakly. “At which point your aunts can collect them without anyone being the wiser.”
“Collect them from the latrine’s storage vats!” Marline hissed, slamming her head into the table. “Ancestors, the future of our house is now literally swimming in shit.”
Gingerly, William moved to pat the dark elf on the back. “Ah, but at least it’s safe.”
Once more he glanced away as two silver eyes peeked out angrily from between the girl’s arms.
Needless to say, he was rather glad for the eventual arrival of the rest of their team – even if Bonnlyn chose to complain at length about the fact that she was going to be forced to dine on ‘twigs and berries’ – as opposed to the gut busting pile of vaguely food shaped grease she normally chose to partake of in a morning.
Still, at least Marline had stopped glaring at him by the time they’d all finished eating – escaping just before the first of their fellow cadets piled noisily into the cafeteria.


It was actually rather amusing, that for all that the coming match had obvious implications for the country as a whole, in theory it was simply another practice match between two groups of cadets.
To that end, there was no great ceremony as the members of Team Seven made their way through the double doors leading to the Floats. There, as per usual, stood the members of the opposing team along with an Instructor from a ‘neutral’ house.
Never mind that the great bleachers to each side of the faux-ships were filled with eager spectators when they were normally all-but bare. Or that not one of the viewing orbs bolted to the gantries overhead was bereft of the ambient glow that signified they were in use.
Half the noble houses in the country were likely watching the events that were about to unfold through those crystalline orbs. Though William had to wonder if the Queen was one of them or if she was present in person, simply hidden behind whatever magic she used to render herself and her guards invisible.
Still, as he gazed upon the spectacle around them, William couldn’t help but be reminded of just how impressive a construction the Floats were, the stadium sized building hosting not just the ships that made up the field, but room for spectators, viewing orbs, staff and a myriad other smaller facilities that each worked to allow the practice matches to occur.
With that in mind, one notable absence from the building’s usual occupants was hard to miss.
“Where are all the sailors and marines?” Olzenya asked.
“I don’t know,” William said as they continued walking towards Tala and her team. “Maybe they’re already onboard?”
He doubted it though. He’d have been able to see people moving about inside the great vessels or marching across the deck.
No, something was amiss here.
Still, he’d known there was a possibility of House Blackstone attempting something. And the absence of the Float’s usual staff was likely to be related.
Nothing for it now, he thought. Whatever they’ve done can’t be too overt.
The Principal of the Academy might have been in New Haven’s pocket – which made her an ally of House Blackstone – but even her power had limits with the Crown and half the country watching.
“Ma’am,” William said as he came to a stop before the Instructor from House Summerfield. “Team Seven reporting.”
Instructor Halfin, ironically the woman who’d first introduced his team to the floats glowered at him.
“I don’t like this,” she said without preamble, her voice raised loudly enough that it was clear she was aiming her words not just at him, but Tala and the rest of the world besides. “The Academy and the Floats are supposed to be a training environment for the future leadership of the nation as a whole. Not a pissing ground for idiotic adolescents.”
“I didn’t choose the venue, ma’am.” Even as she spoke, Tala’s gaze stayed on William.
“And I didn’t ask your opinion, cadet.” Halfin’s words were biting as she turned towards the third-year. “The only opinion that matters here is mine. Not yours. Not his. Not your mummy’s. And not the rest of these upjumped cretins.”
Her hand flew out to encompass the veritable circus that were the stands. “So, with that in mind you can believe me when I say that my only concern is getting through this farce as efficiently and as fairly as possible. I don’t give a shit about what’s on the line or who doesn’t want to marry who. All that matters to me is whether or not you have wax or paint on your breastplate or enough harpy-venom in your system to put you down for the count.”
Both Tala’s and William’s eyes widened a little at that.
“Wax, ma’am? Paint?” Tala said.
The older woman grunted. “You heard me, and that’s all I’ll say on the matter. Let it be known I’m not happy about it. Nor about the fact that half the sailors on base have apparently come down with the shits.”
Ah, so that was why the float’s usual crew was missing. Clearly the work of House Blackstone, though to what end William was yet unsure.
Are they trying to delay the match? He thought.
That wouldn’t be ideal for a number of reasons – most of which centred around it giving House Blackstone more time to sabotage him and his team. There’d been a damn good reason he chose to have their match literally a day after he challenged her.
“This has naturally affected my ability to run a normal Float match. Normally that would be grounds for delaying this whole farce,” Halfin continued, tone darkening as she spoke the next few words. “But it has been ‘suggested’ to me by a number of parties that doing so would be impractical. So, we shall instead be making use of one of the scenarios available to us that does not require the use of regular crewmembers.”
She gestured towards the area between the two faux ships, the football field sized stretch of land normally empty but for a few overhead nets designed to catch falling cadets.
That wasn’t the case today. Instead, the area had been filled with a tangled mess of pre-fabricated structures and various other bits of paraphernalia.
“Airship down,” the Instructor said, and after a moment’s observation, William realized that the stretch of land really did look like what you might have seen if an airship crashed into it.
Assuming said airship crashed with enough force to scatter its component parts around rather than remain as a fairly battered single object. Which, given the heights said ships could drop from, wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility.
“Our third year cadets will be familiar with this scenario, but I will explain it briefly for our first years.” Again, there was no mistaking just how unhappy Halfin was with all of this. “In short, an allied or enemy airship has crashed in neutral territory. Both sides of the conflict have dispatched a mage strike team to search the wreckage for the ship’s core so as to deny it to the enemy. Unfortunately, neither side can effectively search said wreckage until the other strike team has been completely eliminated.”
Halfin’s gaze turned towards his team. “To clarify, do not let the flavor text of this scenario fool you. There is no core within the wreckage in this scenario. The only way to win is to completely eliminate the opposing team.”
Over the woman’s shoulder, William didn’t miss the small smile that flitted across his fiancee’s features.
Ah, so that’s her game, he thought.
Oh, he didn’t doubt she would have preferred this whole engagement be delayed so as to allow her more time to stack the deck, but on short notice simply changing the scenario to this still helped her.
Theoretically.
It reduced the number of ‘wild card’ factors that might benefit him or his team. No crew members. No orbs to collect. Just a straight up fight between the two teams.
Sure, said wild cards could have just as easily worked in Tala’s favour, but given the skill disparity between the two groups, it benefited her to reduce the number of random vectors present in the coming fight.
Plus, it also had his team attempting to navigate an unfamiliar scenario.
Well played, he thought.
“Any issue with that, cadets?” Halfin said as she finished her explanation.
“None at all,” William said before the rest of his team could interrupt, noting the small pout of disappointment that flitted across Tala’s face.
She’d probably wanted him to kick up a fuss and force the match to be delayed for the reasons he’d thought of before.
Alas, she wasn’t that lucky.
No, for better or for worse this was happening here and now.
Sure, it wasn’t an ideal scenario, but he could make it work for him. It simply required him to pull out another trick that he’d been hoping to hold onto for just a little while longer.
Amusingly, Halfin also looked a little disappointed. The woman had probably wanted the match delayed on principle. It was clear both his new weapon and Tala’s interference rubbed her the wrong way.
Though as he had the thought, he was pleasantly surprised to see there was at least one woman in the academy who placed her duty as an educator and impartial judge above politics.
Indeed, if she had a reputation for such, that was likely part of the reason why she’d been selected for this match as a compromise between the Crown and the Blackstones.
“Well, if that’s all, then you’ve got ten minutes to check out your weapons and get to your starting positions.” Halfin grunted, before she seemed to remember something. “And I suppose I’ll take possession of the ‘bet’ now.”
There was no missing the disdain in the woman’s voice, which actually made William feel a bit better as he gestured over to Verity.
Unslinging the backpack she’d carried all the way over, the girl still looked more than a little awed as she unveiled the glowing metal orb. It was actually a little amusing, the mixture of relief and reluctance that crossed her features as she handed it over to the Instructor.
An instructor who was apparently not entirely carved from stone, as she somewhat reverently accepted the object.
Even the distant stands hushed down a bit as the bowling ball sized core changed hands.
Of course, it was barely a second before the moment was interrupted.
“Of course you’d have the orc carry it,” Tala grunted, her tone resigned.
Verity flinched back at the words and every other member of his team – including Olzenya leaned forward to argue – but William forestalled them all with a simple raised hand.
“Of course I did,” he said simply. “She’s a valuable member of my team and I trust her. Far more than certain other individuals present.”
A core could also be deceptively heavy despite its ability to produce lighter than air aether and he had no real desire to carry it all the way across campus. It also went unsaid that Verity was best equipped to intercept any… opportunistic thieves.
Indeed, he’d have paid to see some enterprising moron attempt to wrestle the bag holding the core off his orcish teammate on the walk over here.
It hadn’t happened of course, the possibility had always been an outlier at best, but given the stakes it had seemed better to err on the side of caution.
…It had also been amusing to see the myriad emotions that had flashed across the faces of most of the team when he quite casually tossed the bag holding the core to the orc. One would almost think he’d just thrown a baby at her.
Indeed, the only one who’d not been affected had been Marline, who’d just looked quietly resigned.
Which was still fun in its own way.
It was a little childish perhaps coming from a man ‘his age’, but that same age was what gave him the experience to know that sometimes life was about being a little silly and enjoying the small things.
And what better silly fun was there than teasing a bunch of far too serious kids by throwing around a basically indestructible ball of magical space metal?
Of course, given the flash of irritation that shot across Tala’s face, it was clear she thought his smile was an accompaniment to his taunt.
However, before she could say anything, Halfin scooped up the core. “Well, I’ll be holding onto this until the match is over. At which point I shall hand it to whomever I deem to be the victor.” For just a moment, her expression softened. “You can rest assured, both of you, that I shan’t let it out of my sight or off my person for the duration of the match. This I swear – even if I’m irritated at this whole situation.”
William and Tala both nodded, accepting the solemness of the woman’s impromptu oath.
“Alright,” she said, slinging the thing under her arm as she returned to her previous acerbic personality. “You’ve got ten minutes to collect your weapons and be at your designated spots for the beginning of the match. Anyone not in the correct place at the correct time will be considered eliminated for the purposes of this match. Dismissed.”
With her bit said, she strode away, no doubt up to the judges tower - which had an eagle’s eye view of the entire arena.
Leaving two teams of rather combative cadets behind.
Ten minutes was more than enough time to collect their gear, so William allowed himself a few seconds to simply gaze at Tala’s team.
“Finally realizing how outclassed you are, William?” Tala sneered.
It was funny, normally that kind of open disdain was beneath her. Sure, she’d yelled at him before, but to his mind that was more of an expression of frustration than animosity.
Here and now though?
She hated him.
And he revelled in it.
Not because he hated her. He didn’t. Even if they were enemies. At worst he’d say he pitied her for her ignorance and worldview.
Much like him and his otherworldly views, she was a product of her environment.
She wasn’t evil. At least not in an intentional sense. Indeed, by the standards of this world she was actually a good person.
Loyal. Dutiful. Hardworking.
Simply in service to an institution that he abhorred.
With that in mind, the reason why he relished in her disdain was simple.
It meant that he was now worthy of it in her mind. No longer an irritating non-factor that refused to play along, his actions now had consequences.
He’d earned her animosity honestly.
He was a factor. A person.
It felt good.
“Just counting the numbers,” he said. “Some part of me wondered if you might be a team member or two short.”
Indeed, the fact that he’d hoped for the murder of a young man or woman last night was something he counted amongst the least of his sins. There’d be a great many more of those to come.
Still, ignorant of his thoughts, the girl stiffened, all but confirming his suspicions as her mind no doubt turned towards last night’s explosion.
It had been her people who’d tried to raid his alchemy storage room – though it seemed she’d not been so foolish as to send anyone on her team to accomplish the job. In all likelihood the unfortunate fools who’d run afoul of his trap had likely been little more than paid off servants or some other kind of catspaw.
Irrelevant in the scheme of things ultimately and chosen for that very reason. Unfortunate, but hoping that his enemy would be a teammate or two down had ever been a long shot.
“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about,” Tala said. “My teammates are all ready and eager to serve not only me, but to honour their family names as well through that service. Though I know that’s a concept most alien to you.”
Around her, four other members of the girls team stood up a little straight, animosity burning in their gaze as they silently regarded his team with disdain.
Disdain his own team was quite happy to level back – if only out of loyalty to him.
Still, it was funny; Tala was more right than she knew. The values of this world were in many ways alien to him despite having lived here for nearly two decades.
“I suppose you’re right,” he chuckled. “To that end, I’ll see you in the arena.”
He took a moment to enjoy the look of puzzlement on his foe’s face at his placid rejoinder, before he strode away, his team falling in behind him.
Though as he walked, he made sure to turn to each of them. “Make sure to double check all of our equipment. If Tala was able to give half the Float staff food poisoning last night, I wouldn’t put it past her to be able to tamper with our equipment.”
Each of the girls nodded seriously at his words, no doubt leery of discovering a razor blade or some other such implement in one of their boots. Or that their bolt-bow had a faulty intake valve.
Indeed, the only piece of equipment William could theoretically have been sure of was that which he was currently wearing and the spell-bolts that would have been delivered clandestinely at the last minute by either Griffith or a palace guard.
And even then, what the fuck is this about wax and paint rather than rubber? He thought.
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This could be a long one. Or maybe it will be short, I don't know.
I am 24, turning 25 at the end of the year. Grew up in a dysfunctional, abusive household. Adoptee, orphaned at 11. I have now noticed that apart from depression and anxiety, I have been toxic and dysfunctional in my relationships (platonic and romantic). I have love bombed and put people on a pedestal without even knowing enough about them to categorize them as such important people in my life. I have had anger issues and had to apologize to my ex partners for outbursts that embarrassed them and was disrespectful. I have switched friend groups a lot because people have become distant towards me and after noticing it a few times, I just know when they are slowly removing themselves from my life and I do them a favor and isolate myself. No one has ever had a talk where they point things out and then proceeded to cut me off, but I think it is because they saw me as 1) cocky, arrogant, not teachable or 2) an adult that knows what they are doing - jokes on them, I did not. (Or third option, the mood swings that come with depression are not easy to handle for those around me. Everyone is pro mental health but also those struggling are often a menace. Anyways.) After leaving my abusive childhood home I felt “freedom” for the first time and went crazy! Too crazy, with no regards for others as I was feeding my inner child with all that she “missed” out on (attention, love, my own money etc.). I have created unnecessary drama by having two affairs with taken people. I did it out of insecurity and retrospectively, because I probably felt a high from them “choosing” me and did not understand that them choosing me was not a compliment. It’s not a case of having been outed on social media or so, more so, within my community I just notice people keeping me at an arm's length. When you post revealing pictures, dress a certain way, look for attention, post your partner (now ex) excessively (essentially trying to prove to the world how good the relationship is), at some point, people call your bs on how insecure you are and how much you base your self-worth on external validation and factors, how you have no sense of shame (not because you don’t care, but because you don’t know - low social awareness kind of thing). No one has come to me to call me out, but again, I am silently watching people be very careful with how they engage with me. And I myself have gone into isolation too. It’s frustrating as owning up to insecure, immature, toxic behavior does not mean it never happened. I have a severe fear of being seen/perceived now. "What if who they saw me as is who they'll ever believe me to be?" kind of thing. I am growing in self awareness at an age where I see many other people my age be further in their emotional maturity. I wish I was raised better. Good upbringing is such a privilege! I have been very childish in how I handled my reputation. Children don’t care for repercussions, I never did either. And yes I have found a therapist and psychiatrist on whose waiting lists I am on (but I am terrified to say the least as where I live I have to pay everything by myself and you guessed it - I don’t have good financial habits established yet and am scared to start therapy and possibly medication and not be able to continue treatment till I heal what is likely C-PTSD as these things are just highly expensive). Now that some enlightenment is happening, I am almost hopeless as if a potential partner did some searching, what they would find out could be problematic. These things did not happen at an age where I was a child, people actually expect me to be an adult. I am disgusted by myself and my former lack of integrity. I understand I find myself in a mess I single handedly created. This is a very short version of everything that has happened, that I did and so on.
How much hope is there really for me? I see a need to reparent myself, I would say I (obviously) was not raised very well under care and consistent love and have sought it in all the wrong places.
How do I undo life as I know it?
How do I come to terms with having to heal before I put myself back out there into the dating pool and even search for new friendships while I work on myself. I have been lonely for the majority of my life already and now that I know of my need to heal, I feel angry and sad that I may not be able to enjoy social connections for a while. Does that make sense? To protect others.
How do I accept that I can only heal from a place of self-love and self-compassion, not shame? I am currently in a severe depressive episode and already know that any doctor, psychologist, psychiatrist would probably focus on getting me to a stable mental state first. But I would prefer to go straight into learning new behavioral skills, healthy coping mechanisms and so on.. I feel like shaming myself into changing atm, which is funny as I want to stop pleasing people but am also changing amongst other reasons to be more likable by society?
How do I reparent myself joyfully? What can I do to enjoy this healing journey? Like seriously “re-raise” myself.
How do I forgive myself for the affairs (I’ve owned up to them to the women), the cringe oversharing, the skimpy outfits, the serial dating and so on? (without minimizing my home-wrecking)
How do I learn to trust myself, to trust that I don't f up any new relationship or friendship?
How do I measure when I am ready and healthy/healthier? What differentiates former red flags that turn into green flags from those that remain toxic, dysfunctional and so on?
Is it even possible to establish a sense of self and self-worth at my age? Should that not have happened by now?
What therapeutic modality would be best for me? Any therapists here by any chance? Can I even truly get rid of my baggage?
LOL: Men, would you date me based on what you heard lol? Given I have done “the work”. Please elaborate then what the “work” is. How do I redeem myself? I’d potentially also like to hear from the people that believe “people don’t change”. I’d like your view of things too if possible. Any comment and tip helps. Thank you so much.
Also: I newly found to Christ and would appreciate hearing from Christians too. From anyone really.
Please keep in mind that money is an issue unfortunately. I would love mentorship, therapy, to be surrounded by "elders" that can help me mature, are there any - idk- programs that are free?

Has anyone had their Bodog account placed under review? What was your experience?
About a month ago I received an email saying my account was temporarily disabled and is under review. I promptly submitted the documentation requested.
After a month, still no comms from Bodog. I’ve reached out and they refuse to give any sort of an indication on how long this will take (weeks? Months? Years?). They’ve also said I cannot get any of my funds out, which is concerning as my balance is well over $10,000.
Further, I’ve also found the below in their terms which is concerning
Fwiw I’m not doing anything sketchy.
Has this happened to anyone? What was your experience?
Terms: 2. 9. Account Reviews. You agree that we may at any time investigate your Account to ensure compliance with these Terms and to ensure that no improper or illegal activity is or has taken place, including without limitation fraudulent activity or activity that is contemplated by our Anti-Money Laundering policy and protocols. In the event that it is determined that your Account has been involved in any of the above, we shall be entitled to use any and all money to the credit of your Account to meet any costs, expenses or liabilities reasonably incurred in conducting such investigation. We will refund to your Account any such fee if the inquiry is subsequently concluded in your favour.

Hi, my name's Aaron and I used to be a chronic procrastinator. When I was younger it didn't matter what the activity was, if it was important I'd find an excuse to put it off. Back in school and college (16-18 yo in the UK) I'd do almost NO work. Whenever I did actually muster the effort to work, it would either be the bare minimum or at the very last minute.
Throughout my life, I've also always been extremely addicted to gaming and YouTube and at times, would spend more than 12 hours a day on these vices, whilst avoiding the important tasks I knew I should be doing. It would even get so bad at times that my family would receive letters and emails from my school and college, telling them how behind I was on all my work. It felt so embarrassing being unable to work without an adult's supervision at 18 YEARS OLD!
Why am I telling you this? To show you that you're not alone with this struggle and that it's actually VERY common. I know many other people who also live just like this, being unable to do the things they should be doing.
I know how horribly painful it can feel to have the desire to improve your life and to know what you SHOULD be doing but feeling unable take action on those things. I know how much it can hurt your sense of self worth, destroy your confidence and make you hate yourself.
Luckily, after years of constant procrastination, I was able to overcome it as soon as I understood this:
Procrastination is an emotional problem that occurs when a task invokes more negative emotions than positive emotions. These negative emotions could be things like stress, sadness, anxiety or anger. When we feel these negative emotions, it's only natural for us to want to eliminate them as quickly as possible. This is why you procrastinate.
You may turn to things like tv, gaming, porn, junk food or binge watching YouTube because it provides a temporary relief from those negative feelings. We procrastinate because humans are emotional creatures that prioritize our current state over our future state.
Logically, we know that procrastination damages our lives in the long term but we are evolved to favor short term rewards over long term rewards. This is why eating ice cream and watching Netflix may sound more appealing than going to the gym even though you know which one you SHOULD be doing.
So now you know why you procrastinate, the solution is obvious. It's to uncover what's causing you to feel negative emotions towards a task and deal with that problem. This can usually be some kind of subconscious fear.
Some of the common causes of procrastination include:

• Fear of failure
• Perfectionism
• Fear of judgment
• Irrational thoughts about the activity
• Comparison to others

The reason itself may often vary from person to person but ultimately, you have to find out what's causing those negative emotions of yours and then, tackle that issue.
Anyway, I hope this was helpful and wasn't too long 😄.
I'm currently working on a project to help people overcome procrastination just as I did. If you're interested, you can book a short, free call with me so I can ask you a few questions and better understand how to help you: https://calendly.com/procrastination/call .
Thanks for reading and good luck. 🙂

Francoise Hardy guitar tabs download as PDF and Guitar Pro on: https://paidtabs.com/search/yirSVaeHK1A
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Im visiting the city for 5 days and I cannot find any location to get the weekly ticket.
I was told that I can buy it on the app but I don’t wanna give my credit card info. So how could I buy it physically?

• I would like to be inside my own head without having to do this (responsibilities).
  
• I just feel that there are things I don't achieve because I'm flawed.
  
• I like to write down things about myself and it's not something I ever do, but I'm enjoying doing this rn.
  
• I always need some time to process things before doing them because I always want a mental break between tasks, and to have time to mentally prepare myself.
  
• In the end, I realize that sometimes I avoid pain like everyone else, and sometimes when I don't avoid pain it's because I know there's a possibility that this feeling won't sink me further, although paradoxically, sometimes I provoke it to confront it, and I'm not afraid, but I don't want to keep feeling this(? But, at the same time I'd rather feel pain than nothing at all (three days grace reference(?). Like, yesterday I knew that remembering him and playing our songs would make me cry but I did it.
  
• In the end, what your instinct tells you is what never fails.
  
• To what extent is what you feel real?
  
• I get sudden gut feelings that are always right.
  
• Why have I been treated so badly?
  
• How can everything be so complex?
  
• "If you were such a good mother, then why the hell am I feeling like this?"
  
• I focus on the personality of the person I love and adapt it to mine to avoid the emptiness I feel with myself. When I didn't do this, I sometimes felt disoriented, but this only activates when the person I love abandons me. But ngl, sometimes I don't feel good doing this, sometimes I do. Depends on my mood, but it makes me feel bad, in some way.
  
• If you want to feel the intensity of your emotions, just do it. (But then sometimes I think it's better to keep things to yourself)
  
• Sometimes I don't overthink, it makes me feel lazy when thinking about it (but other times I do, and a lot).
  
• Why does everything make me feel so lazy?
  
• "You do everything wrong." From: me To: me
  
• I like days of doing nothing.
  
• I'm interested in the unknown and once I know it, I'm less interested, that's why I change interests so much and don't specialize in anything, but at the same time, I'm interested in many things.
  
• What if I'm never right?
  
• I feel envy for those who can be free. (But not an insane envy, I just want to be like them, being free).
  
• I used to be happier before.
  
• A part of me tests people, pushing the limits of their patience to see how far they'll go with me, only to end up seeing that they got tired of me again and that I was obviously right, but I self-sabotaged to confirm it under the question: how long will it last?
  
• No one will accept me the way I am.
  
• I don't want to do anything.
  
• The way my opinions can change so much is crazy.
  
• It's better to keep some people emotionally as far away as possible.
  
• I feel like I don't belong.
  
• I feel misunderstood.
  
• I want to get away from all of this.
  
• Nowadays, talking about what's happening to me makes me feel bad because it makes me feel uncomfortable, dramatic, and ridiculous, as I tend to overthink whatever is happening to me.
  
• I find it hard to connect with others, often not having a response to say, or leaving my mind blank. That makes me feel mediocre, insufficient.
  
• I don't feel comfortable/safe with others, so I keep to myself. I think they will humiliate me or they will belittle how I feel.
  
• I don't know what kind of delusion you've created about yourself.
  
• Do I feel this way or am I just self deceiving me to protect myself?
  
• Sometimes just want to see if I get attention when posting something on instagram (not about attention seeking because I post normal things, for example: a selfie(? I hope this not be misunderstood.)
  
• I let myself be carried away by my desires at the given moment.
  
• My defense mechanism might be pretending I don't care from the outside until I can't stand it anymore and then I won't pretend because it will make me feel worse (on the inside I constantly think about how much I care).
  
• I don't maintain intimate relationships with others, aside from the fact that it's never mutual, because I feel I'll be judged, so I withdraw and avoid it.
  
• I love this calm of no one coming in this room.
  
• Dramatic.
  
• Although it hurts to feel it, I cling to this feeling and want to feel it because it frees me from feeling empty (not being able to get over my ex but prefers experimenting that pain rather than feeling emptiness).
  
• I don't want to express myself anymore. (But probably at some point I will).
  
• I like being in my own head.
  
• I want to escape.
  
• The part I enjoyed most about making polls on instagram was because he liked them too (so that means he answered them and I knew more about him).
  
• You know when you feel you can't rely on others, so you decide to keep everything to yourself?
  
• I feel like I'm letting others walk all over me again, like when I was a kid and never defended myself.
  

P.S. I know many of my thoughts are intense, immature and can be judged, but I share them because I think it can be useful for self-discovery and growth from there. I know I need to heal.
You can also add tritype/wing and/or instinctual variant if you have it clear

I got really sick back in 2021 and had to take out credit cards just to afford to survive. My unemployment wouldn’t be approved for months and I was living off a small savings before I got desperate.
The sickness didn’t get better - it got worse. There were weeks where I couldn’t move I was in so much pain, I couldn’t work without feeling like I was going to pass out. I took on 10k of credit card debt over 8 months just to live. I had no income coming in at all for the majority of 2021. I tried disability, but it took almost 6 months to hear from anyone and I was denied.
I finally started to feel better and got a job, but wasn’t making enough to pay off the debt. I eventually got so behind on payments it started tanking my credit score.
I couldn’t afford the monthly payments so I worked with a credit relief program (I know, a lot of them are scams. I didn’t know what else to do)
I’ve been making payments for two years, am going to have two of the cards paid off next month. The last one will be paid off in September.
It’s been hell just to make these payments every month, but I’ve done it. I haven’t missed a single payment, and I’ve paid more when I could (which doesn’t happen often.)
I make almost twice what I did when I started working again, have the tax documents to show it, and I still got denied for an apartment. The apartment is 1/4 of my current income.
I’m so upset and frustrated and trying not to shame spiral, but I’m exhausted. I don’t really want advice, just a space to get my frustrations out.
I finally got a diagnosis a few weeks ago after years of being told I was just depressed. I have a connective tissue disorder and endometriosis. I am trying to do better, I am trying to manage this illness now that I know what helps. I was so proud of myself for getting my shit together, paying my bills, and staying on top of my health. This just feels like a massive setback. I don’t even want to apply anywhere else because I know I’ll get denied.
Please don’t tell me I should’ve known better, I know where I messed up. I just need to get this out before I lose it.

Unless you are ready to handle the reaper cushions.

The fear of death follows from the fear of life. A man who lives fully is prepared to die at any time.
― Mark Twain

general information	additional information
name: Micah Di Santis	preferred name: Myka, Mike
d.o.b.: 10 June 20XX	age: 16
nationality: Sicilian	hometown: Sicily, Italy
gender identity: cis-male	gender expression: male
sexual orientation: Undecided	preferred pronouns: he / him / his

• Half-blood- and non-half-blood-related conundrums: ADHD (attention deficiency and hyperactivity disorder), Dyslexia

relation	name/s	age	relationship
divine parent	Charon, The Ferryman	old	Micah still has no idea what to think about his dad. Speaking with him during the visit to Olympus did nothing to clear things up. The man, or was it immortal, was blunt and yet, his son's opinion of him was still up in the air, though leaning more to the positive side. At least Micah has the connections to get himself an admittedly fantastic tailored suit.
mortal parent	???	???	Micah has no idea who his biological mother is. The only reason he knew who his father was before he came to camp was because the spirits told him.
mortal adoptive parent	Maria Di Santis	32 years old	If Marco was a saint then Maria was a saintess through and through. Everything she did, she did with someone else in mind. From the day she adopted Micah to the moment Marco died, Micah did not see her cry for herself at all. She'd cry when a little boy got hurt and would offer help or cry when she saw a cat get kicked by some drunk douchebag.
mortal adoptive parent	Vincino (Vinny) Bertelli	37 years old	Vincino is an absurdly rich man who was born and raised in Sicily. He found Maira through her singing on the side of the road to raise money for Micah's trip to the US. He offered to take her in because he liked her and sponsored Micah's trip by giving him some money and a ticket onto a transatlantic cruise ship headed to New York City. All things considered, he's a kind and considerate man who loves Maria.
adoptive brother	Marco Di Santis	14 years old, Deceased	Marco Di Santis was a saint. Ever since he learned the word 'kindness', he was absorbed and defined by it. He loved seeing the smiles bloom on people's faces when he shared some bread or helped them with something but what he truly loved more than anything else was sailing and playing the piano. He was handsome beyond reason, having pale blonde hair and clear blue eyes, though he never had a chance to grow into it fully.
dead guy	Chris	16 years old, Deceased	Like Marco, Chris is one big ball of sunshine. The only difference is he's a ghost. Micah met Chris on the cruise he stowed away on to get to the US and the ghost promptly joined him, though reluctantly because he was watching over his parents and little brother, due to finding him interesting. Like Marco, Chris is handsome though he had more time to grow into his looks. Framed by golden hair and chocolate brown eyes, Micah wouldn't have doubted it if the boy was very popular during his living days.
friend	Willow 'Will' Crest	16 years old	One of the more laid-back campers Micah had met, Willow became something of a friend to the son of Charon, though they started off more as discussion partners than anything else. And besides, being chill-buddies is pretty fun on its own. Who knows where things can go from there?
friend	Rachel 'Rocky' Williams	17 years old	Rocky was one of the first people Micah met upon arriving at camp and her enthusiasm, uncharacteristic for a child of a chthonic god, immediately made her stand out. Though he genuinely has no idea what goes through Rocky's head, Micah considers them close, and okay, maybe he has a minuscule crush on her.
friend/former cabin-mate	Ramona Herrera	16 years old	Being another camper who met Micah's criteria for friendship (i.e. Be chill and relax), Ramona is someone who Micah doesn't know too much about. Much like Kit, who Micah has seen around camp and the Hermes Cabin, she is a mystery to him. Though he does enjoy trying to spot which corner she's hiding in at any given camp gathering.
acquaintance (?)	Mathew Knight	15 years old	Matt is, as far as friendship is concerned, a work-in-progress. Micah's father had recommended getting to know the son of Hades and though he'd lost himself in school shortly after, Micah had made introductions.

appearance

faceclaim	height	weight	hair	eyes	skin
FC, Art by Charlie Bowater	5’11”	Doesn't care	Black	Amber, fiery like gold	Lightly tanned, peppered with a few more recent thin scars from his time at camp

description: Micah is a fairly restrained person when it comes to clothes. Usually, he'd only grab a long-sleeved shirt and some jeans, feeling content. Most of his clothing is fairly average, what with them being of all sorts of muted colors and sorts of clothing. He isn't used to expressing himself whether it is though clothing or other methods.
equipment:

• Folding Knife; The cleaver-shaped folding knife was a present from his brother and Micah has taken to using it for almost everything in his day to day. When his mother fell ill after Marco's death, Micah had to scrub the docks, cut rope to secure the boats, and even got to work on some boats during outings for extra cash. The knife became like a lifeline, being used for everything he had to do.
• Bead Necklace; Micah has been at camp for a year now.
• Monster Directory; Over the years, Micah has seen one or two monsters in their undisguised forms and has taken to keeping note of them by drawing them in as great a detail as he can remember in a separate notebook from the rest of his drawings while also making notes of tactics that worked against them.
• Sketchbook; Ever since he started drawing, Micah has had a good amount of sketchbooks, most of which he donated to orphanages in Sicily for the little kids to enjoy the drawings if they weren't destroyed by seawater or other kids. After he donated his last one with a few pages blank at the end, he got himself a new book, this one being leather-bound and practically a blank slate. He's glad to have an abundance of space to draw as his story unfolds.
• Art Supplies; A good amount of colored and uncolored pencils, all in different states of use, either dull or sharp, long or short, and an eraser in a dark brown leather box.
• Satchel; The over-the-shoulder bag Micah carries around with all of his items. It's nothing special, just an olive green bag with a good amount of compartments and space.
• Throwing Knife Bandolier; Micah's choice of weapon, the bandolier he carries is easy to hide under civilian clothes, fast to access, and easy to use. The knives are of standard make and easily replaceable with others from the armory, though Micah tends to clean and sharpen them himself after each use.

abilities:
* – modmailed / custom

godrent domain powers: 

a) Dead Communication; Ever since his close brush with death, Micah's powers surged. His father's connection to spirits and those who have died became his and as such he can now see and communicate with the spirits of the dead. They have been his only source of information on his father. He likes to build a network of spirits whenever he goes somewhere new so he can gather information as fast as possible.
b) Shadow Camouflage; From a fairly young age, Micah wasn't much of a social butterfly. Most of the time, he felt most comfortable in a shadowy nook where the lines of his body would be broken by shadows, using the ability unconsciously. After his near-death experience, Micah became more aware of his ability to hide in shadows and learned to use it more effectively than before.
c) Shadow Travel\;* After an unknowably long amount of time spent in Hades, Micah's father, Charon, was aligned with the underworld to which he led the souls of the dead. Similarly, Micah has inherited the ability to travel through shadows in short or long-range teleports.

godrent minor powers: 

a) River Step\;* The connection with the River Styx flows through Micah's veins as much as it does through his father's. The ability this connection granted him was the ability to walk on water, as long as there is no significant shift to the water, such as large waves.
b) Death Buff\;* Being a servant of the God of the Dead, it only makes sense that Charon would draw his own power from his master. As such, Micah has inherited a trait where he becomes stronger when around children of other deities of death, such as Hades, Melinoe, Zagreus, the Oneiroi, etc.
c) Aura of the Harbinger\;* Being a multifaceted deity, Charon passed down his multifacetedness in the form of an aura ability. Micah has the ability to project an aura with two opposite effects that work on separate targets. A calming effect affects any spirits within the aura while an imposing effect like that of Children of Hades affects living beings within the aura's range.

godrent major powers: 

a) Major Watercraft Manipulation\;* Being known as the Ferryman of the Dead, it only makes sense for Charon, and Micah by extension, to have dominion over watercraft. Micah's control over watercraft was one of the first powers he discovered and the power that is most intertwined with him in his entirety. He has inherited the ability to gain absolute control over any and all watercraft down to the rigging and ropes.

skillset 

Over the years, Micah has picked up a good variety of skills, including fishing and rope work. Still, there have been a great many learning experiences for the boy on the streets of Sicily. Free running came as a given to any child of below-average means in Sicily but Micah was significantly worse than most thanks to a leg injury he got at the age of thirteen. Drawing was the only real luxury he had during his time when he wasn't working. A young lady from a carnival that was passing through taught him how to use throwing knives after he helped her find her way around the city. He learned ballet by watching, sitting for hours outside a studio every day for weeks until he'd gotten good enough to practice independently, which led to his interest in gymnastics. One of the older neighborhood boys took to teaching Micah, his brother, and the other kids how to read and write in English. Micah's adoptive mother insisted on teaching him how to speak English from a young age. Now, he can speak English with a barely noticeable Sicilian accent.
personality
Micah is about as quiet as you'd expect from a Chthonic kid. That isn't to say that he is particularly serious or brooding, in fact, even when he's upset, he rarely does either. He mainly remains silent because he isn't particularly talented at talking. His reactions to most things tend to be a bit muted unless something is especially funny or angering. Any of the kids that liked him or trusted him in Sicily did so because they understood that when it was needed, Micah would talk as much as was needed and would do what needed to be done to keep everyone safe.
Fatal Flaw; Vengefulness
backstory
Micah's past year at camp had been simultaneously the most relaxing and confusing year of his life. There had been a unfamiliarity that Micah had with anything to do with relaxation or really anything but working that had slowly melted away. He'd made friends and discovered passions that might have otherwise gone ignored for the rest of his life (Art was definitely one of those).
So, when school started to take over his time, Micah barely gave it any thought, settling back into his old work mentality, though now focused on mental instead of physical labor. Before he knew it, it was summer, school was out, and he was back at the start, not knowing how to get himself to relax.
now
Micah stared at the ground around the Range target blankly, the celestial bronze knives scattered around it refracting light. He was jolted out of his mental haze when a camper a few rows down yelled at him for standing in front of the target for so long. Quickly finishing up gathering his throwing knives, Micah slotted them into his bandolier and left the Range.
For a while, he just walked, until he reached the pier. Boats had been a constant of Micah's life before coming to camp and when he was really out of it or off his rocker, the son of Charon liked to settle at the camp pier and imagine what sort of sea vessel he'd design for himself. Aesthetics might not have mattered to everyone but to Micah, they did. The ship would have to look as good as it sailed.
Now, he fell onto his back in the sand a few meters from the pier and stared up at the sky. Barely any clouds. Gods that was boring.
(Credit to u/FireyRage for the amazing intro format.)

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