𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐙𝐄 ▣ AUGUST TDM

[saltburntmods]

AUGUST 2025 TDM: BALANCE

Welcome to SALTBURNT, a panfandom smut/thriller game based off the film Saltburn, where characters are encouraged to indulge their deepest desires. The money never runs out and the liquor never stops pouring, so you may as well indulge from the bounty. Of course, things are rarely what they seem, and the manor itself seems to have a consciousness of its own. Throw parties, trash the house, engage in youthful merriment, but remember — dangers come out at night, and no one, no matter how rich you are, is safe from demons lurking in the shadows.

Threads can be considered game canon, provided the players agree. Players can also start fresh upon acceptance into the game. In game characters can post to the TDM directly, using « NEW CHARACTER/IN GAME» in the header. There will be a spot below for new characters to link their toplevels for easy access. Alternatively, prompts on the Test Drive can be used for in game logs.

GOODBYE TO SALTBURNT

CONTENT WARNINGS: house fire.

The day starts much like any other — at least in the first few moments of consciousness, chased to morning light by the pounding of a hangover, the sweaty night terrors soaking your sheets, or the scent of breakfast on the rise through the house. Well, it seems someone must've burnt the bacon, now that your nose wakes you up, which is highly unusual for the skilled chefs here at Saltburnt. Flutter your eyes open and see a pillowy cloud of smoke filtering under your door, something that manages to finally alert you to the danger you're in. Out in the hallway, flames lick up the walls, smoke and ash burning your eyes. The next move is obvious: grab whatever you can carry and get out, as quick as you can. It seems that place you've called home for a day or a year is going up in flames.

Outside, flames engulf one wing of the huge manor, invaluable trinkets laid out on the lawn from the help, usually invisible, running in and out to grab what they can spare from the flames. Of course, people offer their helpful services — tending to burns and smoke inhalation, trying to put out the fire from whatever means they have, be it buckets of water stolen from the lake, or magical prowess from the population of guests. Regardless, the fire rages, and only manages to cease when about half of the house has been burnt down to structurally questionable bones, ashy remains, and the occasional falling cinder of burnt wood.

Before the mess, the Balfours stand in a range of different emotions — irritation from Bunny, paranoia from Rosie. The only one who manages to attempt to find a silver lining is Portia, whose plastic smile twitches around her watery eyes, hand cinched in an iron grip around Jonty's. There's a pleading look in her eyes for all of a moment before the patriarch of the family springs (more, dustily sways) into action, calling forth, "Giles!"

The man in question appears, soot-coated and harrowed, yet still immaculately well put together, bowing slightly at the waist. "Sir?"

"The —" he starts, somewhat unsure of himself, before solidifying his resolve. "The camping gear. In the shed."

A firm nod, manners impeccable. "At once, sir."

LIVING OFF THE LAND

CONTENT WARNINGS: nsfw themes.

By mid-morning, you'll find Portia Balfour has taken … liberties with the lawn decor. Aside from a brief intermission spent sobbing at the manor's scorched stonework, the lady of the manor does what she does best (in Portia's very modest opinion): she beautifies. Gone is the sad, sad state of all that empty sprawling green; what stands in its place is an encampment of tents stretching from the gardens to the forest boundary. And not your mother's backyard camping equipment, either — that would be so terribly basic and blase, darling. They're much more exciting than that. Fresh out of the imagination of someone who clearly consolidated ideas from flipping through a Martha Stewart Magazine and browsing Coachella's website, the bell tents (100% cotton, Portia is too happy to share with you) come in a lovely selection of colors. Beige, buff, biscuit, oatmeal, fawn. And Portia's personal favorites: the chartreuse, and a shade that closely resembles bile.

At your look of confusion, or distress, or perhaps distinct horror, Portia announces, with a stiff smile to rival a fresh dosage of Botox: "It's fine. It's fine! I wanted an excuse to finally redecorate, anyway. We'll just— we'll make a retreat out of it, my lovelies."

Well, where else are you going to go? Outside of each tent, Giles and his fellow staff have taken the time to generously assign you and your former suitemate to a shared tent, your names scribbled together in obnoxiously joyful cursive on a bright chalkboard. Just in case your amateur eyes can't distinguish between beige and oatmeal. Of course, mistakes are made. You can't possibly expect the housestaff to remember all of your names, or who you've shared space with before the "Little Setback", as Portia has taken to calling it. Some of you might find yourselves paired up with the wrong partner in the mix-up and reshuffling of housing arrangements, while others — without suitemates, or freshly arrived — find themselves shoved together by Giles' subpar matchmaking skills.

Whoever the two of you happen to be, you'll find that — while the interior is positively spacious — some concessions had to be made. Namely: there is, in fact, only one bed. Or, in your case, only one sleeping bag. Designed to lovingly cradle two bodies in disturbingly close proximity, your organic, artisan cashmere sleeping bag comes with only a narrowed zipper for entry and one built-in memory foam pillow, so you can meditate by listening to your partner's breathing at all times. Portia's private DJ turned ex-fling turned self-proclaimed intimacy coach, Ezio, insists it helps you and your partner connect to the same emotional frequency for maximum bonding. Whatever that means.

Luckily, not all of your belongings were unsalvageable. Giles has painstakingly begun the process of transferring supplies into your tent, from changes of clothes to personal effects to underwear you're 70% sure belong to another resident. Among them, you'll find both a camp counselor uniform that looks like it was pulled off the rack from an adult novelty shop, and a pair of athletic short-shorts and white tank tops for your scheduled summertime activities.

The generosity doesn't end there — with Ezio's advice, Portia has arranged a gift bag for each tent, meant to strengthen ties amongst the House's residents. What better time to connect than in the wake of such a tragedy? Inside, guests will find: a guided erotic meditation track, mood-boosting meditative candles in scents such as Nag Champa and Afternoon Scrapbooking, a set of silk ribbons with slogans reading Surrender and Trust, heated massage oils marked for tension release, an ergonomically-shaped crystal pleasure wand sculpted from Rose Quartz meant for "grounding and release", silicone bands for your, ahem, instrument to help harness your "root chakra", and a guided positions manual for Kama Sutra with Portia's favorites meticulously circled. Happy healing!

No summer camp trip would be complete without activities. Ezio, allergic to wearing anything that isn't a breathable speedo, leads a series of trust-building exercises. A blindfolded obstacle course, set up with chairs hauled down from the attic as well as pool noodles and cardboard boxes, requires one partner to lead the other successfully to the end. Ezio's twist? You can only direct your partner through sincere, heartfelt compliments in the vein of, "you look so pretty when you're confused." If you lose patience and swear, you're forced to mandatorily hug each other — medically effective to reduce your blood pressure! For the detail-oriented, there's the Human Scavenger Hunt. Sitting in meditative circles, you're given a list of clues to find on your partner's body, ranging from locating the part of their skin that's softest to finding their ticklish points. That birthmark on your buttcheek will come to light. For the more athletically inclined, there's the honeyspoon race — with your mouth as the spoon. It's your job to transfer as much honey as you can into your partner's mouth without spilling. Or perhaps you'd prefer less mouth-to-mouth contact in the piggyback race, or a vanilla and traditional game of Tug of War, or even Bunny Balfour's strange rendition of Jason at Camp Crystal Lake. Those of you who can't outrun the killer get helped to a nice dousing of red food coloring you can cleanse off in the communal showers positioned at the treeline, with nothing blocking the rest of the camp's view of your natural assets.

Mealtimes are rigidly run as scheduled by Giles' demand, though the Balfours' menu is rather limited to simpler cuisine this month. Toad in a Hole, Angels on Horseback, Bubbles and Squeak, and what looks to be a charming attempt at S'mores served on digestive biscuits — all dutifully charred over a campfire and served with a variety of fine vintages spared from the worst of the flames. And if you come underdressed for the occasion? "We dress for dinner," Portia remarks from her place at the head of a honey-oaked picnic bench, overlage sunglasses shielding her eyes. You get the impression she's looking down her nose at your choice of wardrobe, anyway. "Black tie. No exceptions."

Eat up, gather your energy; you'll need it for what comes next.

TEAMWORK MAKES THE DREAM WORK

CONTENT WARNINGS: emeto, slight body horror, potential character death, fuck or die.

While you were all asleep in your spacious tents and unspacious sleeping bags, the maze has shifted form, spreading its sections along the entire grounds of the house. You wake from what should be the end of your glamping spree already lost in a part of the sprawling labyrinth, maybe with your tent-mate, or the person you spent the night with, or someone completely new. You’re only sure of one thing — it seems like you’ve suddenly developed a pesky case of allergies. It starts with an uncomfortable pins and needles sensation that crawls over your entire body as you start to move. Sweat dampens your clothes despite the towering blossoms offering a rather pleasant shade from the sun, and soon your teeth are chattering with chills. So maybe you’ve caught a summer cold, or some of you might be spreading mono from having a pair of too-loose lips. In any case, it’s probably nothing you haven’t dealt with before, and it won’t stop you from finding your way out of the maze.

The natural thought would be to utilize your own skillset to escape, but you quickly realize that using any magical abilities yields no results upon the thick foliage — or at least you think there’s no effect. If you try to use fire to burn down a part of the maze, not only does it not work for you, but now, in a part of the maze opposite to you, there are burning flames that other house guests will have to get past. Being big and bad, in this case, means you’re probably just an asshole now. As you stumble through the maze, you encounter more and more magical obstacles that you might begin to recognize as coming from your own friends. Looks like everyone’s desperate to get out, and you’re only making things worse. (If your character tries to use their magic, please submit it here, so others can play with it!)

Speaking of worse, those allergies are swiftly advancing into a full blown infection from — you guessed it — the foliage of the maze itself. The constant reproducing and shifting is caused by THE BOGWOOD BLIGHT, evident by the dark lesions spotting the plant stems, and white, fuzzy spores clinging to the undersides of the leaves. Your symptoms progress into searing pain as flowers, branches, and thorns begin to grow inside of you, your vomit coming up bloody and thick with masses of dead leaves. Young vines and tiny flowers seem to spool out from your own hair, curling around your throat if you don’t keep up with tearing them out. Hallucinations plague your mind, sharp desire both violent and sexual permeating your senses and threatening to push all other reasonable thoughts out.

It would be easy to succumb to this sickness, to let your base instincts fight or fuck one another until you’re all hopelessly lost and doomed to a certain death in the labyrinth. But there is a way out, for those who can hold on to their sanity and bear through the pain: participate in the trials, and earn your freedom.

These trials? Nothing like the fun and games of a night camping beneath the stars. The verdant landscape of the neatly trimmed maze has become flush with deadly obstacles, and it’s up to you to get past them all. Naturally, your first instinct is to grab your trusty iPhone and reach out to your closest and most trusted companions — but everything you send reaches the recipient in a way that utterly twists your intentions. A simple are you okay? turns into I’m glad to finally be rid of you. Trying to reunite with a loved one throws you for another loop when you finally do find them — three loops, in fact, because you encounter three identical copies of your love, all trying to convince you they’re the real one. In order to reveal the truth and continue your journey along the maze, drive a thorn into one of their hearts. Hope you know your lovers well. Maybe a little physical touch will help?

The maze might break into a small clearing for you, a wide open space with checkerboarded grass filling from one edge of the field to the other — two different tones of the same haunted green pervasive through the labyrinth. Certain spaces are occupied by expertly crafted hedges to resemble all the familiar pieces to a chess board, while the Kings are left empty, awaiting you and an opponent. Take your positions, or wait for a stranger to stumble upon you, if you were unlucky enough to face the maze by yourself, and play the game according to all ordinary rules of chess. Following a checkmate, you have the option of how you’ll claim dominion over the opposite side, or how they’ll claim it over you — a slap or a kiss will suffice, to earn your win. Strangely, physical touch seems to relieve the worst of your allergies. These things do have a way of escalating, don’t they? Best to keep your wits about you.

For those of you prone to clumsiness, you’re probably doomed already, but the viper pits are an easy trap for even the most seasoned of the bunch. Take one step, and the ground gives way beneath your feet, plunging you into a dark, flinty hole in the earth. The injuries you might have sustained on the way down are the least of your worries. Inside the pervasive darkness of the pit, it’s time to face your vipers — that is, your worst fears seem to press in on you, terror blooming in your very bones until your own nauseating dread is all you can feel. Maybe it's actual vipers, or rough waters pulling you down, or a thousand razors cutting your skin — the mystery of the dark is that anything can be inside it, waiting. Maybe you’ll be lucky enough to have a friend risk it all to help you out, but you can always just save yourself, clawing to the top while your greatest fears weigh you down.

If you manage to avoid the pits, they’re not the only deadly thing on the ground. Step close enough to smell the honeysuckle and you’ll feel a sharp clamp around your ankle. Vines, slithering out from the foliage, wrap themselves around your body in near shibari style — and these vines like to fondle and grope, ramping up the sexual side of your infection symptoms. The only way to get free? Turn to someone else struggling in the vine trap and get frisky — or let the vines turn from pleasure to true pain as they slowly squeeze the life out of you. Orgasm or die. It's a pretty easy choice, isn't it?

Just when you think it’s the dehydration of too many long days and nights scrambling through the maze that will kill you, you’re lucky enough to happen upon a water source — one of the many beautiful fountains, shimmering ponds, or rustic bird baths dotting the path of the maze. Whichever it is, you’re parched enough to drink deep despite the possibility of bird shit floating around. As you crouch over the water, your reflection stares back at you — only it’s either your most perfect self that you wish you could be, or the worst version of you that you fear you’ve already become. Once you catch your reflection’s eye, you’re caught, unable to stop yourself from being pulled into the water’s depths. The bird bath overflows, the pond turns dark and bottomless, and the gilded fountain statues laugh at your plight as you struggle to keep yourself from drowning. Time to face those ugly truths about yourself — fast.

After your harrowing ordeals, you reach what can only be the end — a narrow pathway lined with thorn-filled hedges, too thick and solid to pry through. The only way forward is onto the path. Luckily, a piece of bright hope shimmers before you — a single strand of golden thread, hopefully leading you out into the world once more. You step onto the path, following the glimmering thread, and it seems like all is well until the moment someone enters the path behind you. The hedges rush toward you, brutally narrowing the space as thorns dig into your flesh and rip fresh wounds across your body. Looks like only one of you can complete this painfully claustrophobic trial at a time, and the other has to watch your slow and bloody suffering, waiting for the moment the walls part and you can rejoin your love without consequence. Better hurry to get there. They’re going to need some patching up once they’re done.

As you escape the stifling thorns, finally emerging on the other side and collapsing with relief to be free and hopefully to get some help for your worsening illness, you realize with a sick drop of your stomach that you haven’t made it out after all. The golden thread has led you into the heart of the maze, where you know the Balfour’s beloved Minotaur statue should be… only it’s nowhere to be found. Instead, there are two statues towering over your pathetic form: Medusa cast in gold, and Midas carved in stone.

MATERIAL GIRLS

CONTENT WARNINGS: potential character death, loss of limbs.

It's been a long, harrowing journey, but you're here now, likely with some friendships or trauma-bonds made along the way, which is what summer camp is all about. Each of the statues before you is decorated with a marble slab at the base, detailing EYE TO EYE below Medusa and HAND IN HAND below Midas. Curiosity eventually wins out against wariness — or maybe the charms of the maze have worn thin on you through the days, frustration guiding your motion. Whatever the case, you weigh your options and choose accordingly between the two, stepping forward and sealing your fate.

EYE TO EYE — Look to Medusa for a few seconds, and a door will appear beside her, granting you free exit from the maze. However, for the following days, you begin to change. It starts at your fingertips, gradually spreading from arm to shoulder to neck, and so on, transmuting your body from flesh and blood to cold, icy stone. Those affected start to lean into their darker side, turning from the hero to the villain, the kind to the cruel. To stop your gravelly fate, amends must be made — forgive someone who wronged you, love someone you hate, clear up a misunderstanding you've let fester inside, make up for some injustice you've committed in your life. Give them the knife and let them start cutting. Beg for penance, and whether or not you receive it is beside the point — the begging is enough to redeem you in Medusa's eye.

HAND IN HAND — Alternatively, hold the hand Midas extends for a few seconds, and a door will appear beside him, granting you free exit from the maze. However, for the following days, you too start to change, following the same pattern of those more Medusa inclined — but gilt instead of stony, turning gold from the outside in. Those affected lean further into their brighter, more pleasant sides, cheer replacing sorrow, your mood uplifted to a potentially overbearing degree. To stop your gilded fate, sacrifices must be made — reveal a deep rooted secret, let go of something you're insecure about, give away something of important value to you. Material good are nice, yes, but do you know what Midas would like even more? Limbs, eyes, flesh, blood, something you're really going to miss.

Regardless of your choice, you're out of the maze, congrats! Act swiftly and all will be fine. Dither and, well — you'll make a beautiful, statue-corpse eventually, and the maze would be happy to have you. Of course, even a successful solution will take time to settle in. Your stony, golden limbs revert as slowly as they crawled up on you, any severed body parts taking days to reform but eventually coming back as good as new, with a small memorializing token — a hand or an eye shaped birthmark to remember what you've lost.

Out of the maze, you can see the work being done on the house, renovations well underway while you were busy messing around. It was so kind of you to give the Balfours the chance to start working on the house — and while it's unlivable for the next while, there are always the tents to keep you warm.

DIRECTORY

taken
activity check
setting

reserves
rewards
rules

applications
hiatus & drop
faq

Comments

stefan salvatore. the vampire diaries. current player.

[interpersonally]

🇱‌🇮‌🇹‌🇹‌🇱‌🇪‌ 🇫‌🇮‌🇷‌🇪‌🇸‌ 🇪‌🇻‌🇪‌🇷‌🇾‌🇼‌🇭‌🇪‌🇷‌🇪‌

( After ensuring his brother is okay, Stefan uses his amplified vampire senses to hear if anyone is still inside, trapped, and needing help. But, one by four, everyone seems accounted for on the lawn, including the balfours.

He approaches his established CR to check in on them, to ask if they need anything - seeing if they're hurt or injured. He's survived a fire before, and has had close calls before, so he's there for anyone that might need a shoulder, or someone to rant to.

Always with one eye on his brother, he introduces himself to anyone new he doesn't recognize. )

I'm Stefan. I'm sure that was a rude awakening. If I can be of any help, or answer any questions you might have, I've been here for two months. Not - here on the lawn, but in there.

( Always one to follow the rules, he does show up to dinner in black tie. For anyone without access to a suit, he might offer a spare one to someone that looks like they needed it.

He invites anyone who doesn't know where to sit as well. )

I don't... think I've had Toad-in-a-Hole in - I can't even remember.

🇨‌🇦‌🇲‌🇵‌ 🇳‌🇴‌🇼‌🇭‌🇪‌🇷‌🇪‌

(

— for klaus

night one is hard enough, at the end of the second day, he retires to the tent he's been assigned, knowing he's been paired with someone. it can't be worse than his resentful brother (it could, there's still lingering awkwardness from that month as stefano), but he tries, anyway.

something tells him klaus knew about this. or, he claimed this sleeping bag like his own. he would. he is a man of creature comforts. but did portia or another balfour tell klaus he wouldn't be alone tonight? maybe he made the assignments himself, or nudged portia. he looks all too comfortable in the single sleeping bag they've been provided.

he decides that, likely, klaus would claim it for himself. and probably didn't know stefan would be sent over.

he resigns himself, stepping inside the tent, and eyeing any other options for seating, or a bed. the ground? )

... I've never been, but I doubt this is what glamping is supposed to be.

— open

( the next day, he doesn't return to that tent. things are complicated enough with everyone, now, from home, so he stakes his claim to an empty tent.

but he's not alone for long. )

It's okay. It's best to play by the Balfour's rules.

( Someone, or maybe it's just the house, has set up a bracelet braiding station. And, compared to all of the games, it's a relaxing, therapeutic idea.

Stefan takes a seat at the table and contemplates what colors he might combine.

🇹‌🇭‌🇪‌ 🇲‌🇦‌🇿‌🇪‌ 🇷‌🇺‌🇳‌🇳‌🇪‌🇷‌

( Stefan isn't always a hero. But, today, he tries. Whether he zooms and tackles someone out of the way of red lasers, or catches someone else if they raise up off the ground randomly and fall back down to Earth.

If he sees someone drowning, he wrestles them free, pulling them back from Narcissus' pond.

He comes upon the Chess board, and thinks before acting, not daring to take a spot as king.

He will also take a partner to find the exit, if he finds them. ) There's strength in numbers.

( ooc: hit me up at audacieux, but also feel free to wildcard him, especially from established cr. )

😀

[poppycock]

( in an unbelievable turn of events, klaus did not sway their hosts one way or the other regarding this tent-mate situation, though clearly he didn't have to exert any of his charming influences. he has his preferences, of course, but stefan's funny head of hair ducking into their shared space for the night is both a welcome and amusing sight.

klaus is lounging back into the stack of pillows he's already claimed and put to use. he bookmarks his page in one hundred hears of solitude—he might have nicked it from the pile of saved books—with his index finger. )

Some war tents are surprisingly comparable, in terms of luxury. Though, like you, I've more more experience with the latter. Come to say hello?

😏

[interpersonally]

( in an unbelievable turn of events predictable turn of events, the world works in klaus' favor, and, depending on your definition, in stefan's. it is not his brother's tent he's accidentally encroaching on, or a stranger, but his old friend whom he shared a fake lifetime with, and whose feelings still linger along the edges of his psyche. there's a loyalty that wasn't there before, and a yearning he shuts down as his eyes narrow. )

Let's hope we're not at war. ( or is he being comparable? ) No, I was assigned this tent. According to the lady Portia. I know better than to cross the Balfours. Maybe she thinks it's funny. ( Or, maybe she doesn't care at all and she overlooked. ) A few more pillows and you'll have yourself a fort.

[poppycock]

I thought we weren't hoping for war. ( as far as klaus is concerned, they are at war with the manor. though pillows are not the preferred fort-building materials, in the literal or figurative sense, he could use a few more if he's to be expected to sleep on the ground like a peasant. )

I'd be willing to part with one if you've something worthwhile to barter.

[interpersonally]

I'm hoping for answers. War, not so much. Unless war helps in the end. But, with war comes casualties. I'd like to avoid casualties.

( And the manor does not. Also, he knows this isn't Stefan gets what he wants. But, if he had his druthers.

Stefan holds up a dusty old volume and an old iPod. )

Don't tell anyone I swiped the iPod and you have access to the greatest hits of 2007. I take it there's only one sleeping bag.

( What a cliché. )

[poppycock]

( klaus' eye roll is unashamed and pronounced. just like stefan to tally up and weigh casualties when first blood had already been spilled long before they arrived, death machinations or not.

the ipod, similarly, doesn't impress him much. )

That volume better be more interesting than my own or you'll have no pillow and no sleeping arrangements.

[interpersonally]

( yes, he's heard about the serial killer. about werewolf. about the death "consequences." maybe other deaths, like ones stemming from war, would bring with them more consequences. who are they to say, how are they to know? )

Brideshead Revisited.

( He likes it, and would admit to some very noteworthy subtext. And perhaps a parallel. Maybe he was meant to find this tent.

As for 2007. )

I like Hey There Delilah.

[poppycock]

( there's a glint to his eyes that reflects the light of the old lantern as he tips his chin up, his amusement and his interest too bright for words. he holds onto them, the rejoinders he contemplates both sly and pointed.

instead, he shifts, reaching behind him to toss a pillow on the space beside him in invitation.

(they haven't talked about their tale of love, yearning, sex, sex, and more sex, not in any certain terms. would that they did? would they even need to talk?) )

I liked "Desert Rose" by Sting. That might've been a bit earlier.

[interpersonally]

( it's better than attempting to find another strange bedfellow. avoiding katherine. his brother.

sitting on the ground, he removes his shoes and socks. he maneuvers closer, half-crawling because it's a tent before evaluating the opening to the sleeping bag. a bit dubious. )

1999.

( he contemplates removing more clothing, not knowing if klaus has. and shouldn't care. but he finds himself curious. is that their love, their yearning, their "school days?" )

How much room is in here, really?

[poppycock]

The decade we suffer in was lacking. ( stefan's confirmation is more proof to klaus of that, but his eyes trail the man's movements with more interest than he has for their conversation. )

There's plenty. ( he gestures to the general space beside him, the pages of his novel flapping gently. it's more likely enough room rather than an abundance, but he's been known to embellish for his own purposes. as for if he's wearing enough: a ribbed tank and a pair of thin pajama pants, the elastic of which can be spotted peeking out of the sleeping bag when stefan draws closer.

he might've nicked a few things in search of creature comforts. )

[interpersonally]

I did like the 1999/2000 divide. And a lot of the 90's. There should probably be some Kurt Cobain on this thing.

( He hasn't scrolled through it all, but a lot of it is "current."

stefan did grab looser sweatpants, and a few shirts. in this case, white tank as well. he'll do better in the morning. he's sure someone will set up stalls, or something, for anyone that might want more.

there's room, though, and he is tired enough to slide inside. his leg brushes klaus' as he repositions the pillow underneath him. )

[poppycock]

You would enjoy grunge, wouldn't you? All that whining about the establishment and performative teenage ennui. ( he enjoys the slight warmth of stefan's leg against his, the touch both intimately familiar and different; new.

klaus takes a peek at the ipod in stefan's hand. he's curious, and hopeful: ) Is there really more than top 20 rubbish on there?

cw. mentions of suicide re kurt cobain

[interpersonally]

I don't know how performative that ennui is, but I suppose we could ask Courtney Love. ( he did kill himself, klaus. stefan relaxes his shoulder, shifting his neck, looking up at klaus, propped up and reading.

he grabs the book klaus is reading, to flip through it, see why it's holding his interest.

he looks over at the iPod on the ground and offers it to Klaus. ) See for yourself. It has range.

🇮‌🇳‌🇩‌🇮‌🇦‌🇳‌ 🇸‌🇺‌🇲‌🇲‌🇪‌🇷‌ — caroline

[interpersonally]

( Sometimes, he thinks about Mystic Falls. In the mornings, he wakes up and for a brief second, he remembers his other life. Not his other, other life with Katherine the ex-wife, his pious older brother, their calculating board-room running dead father, or his son. But, the one he knows is real. He relives running back through from the Other Side before it collapsed. In an instant, he remembers Lexi - but he also remembers Bonnie and Damon. And how he believed they were sent to oblivion. Or, Peace like they're teased. (He doesn't deserve Peace.) He wouldn't make it to Peace. He has all of this unfinished business. They have a line they can't cross because magic can't exist in Mystic Falls. And until Klaus admitted it, he thought Damon and Bonnie were gone forever, and so did Elena.

This morning is the hardest morning.

He should be happy. Bonnie and Damon make it back. He doesn't know all of the details, he hasn't lived them, and as far as the good doctor puts it, they could be from different "multiverses," but he chooses to believe he and Klaus are living along the same timeline. It's easy not to hold him accountable. It's been years. The worst thing Klaus has done lately, as far as Stefan knows, is sleep with Caroline. And, really, that only hurt Tyler. Knowing that his daughter survives - and turns fifteen.

It's the first morning that doesn't feel rote, that gives him hope. That he wakes up besides Klaus in a sleeping bag has nothing to do with it.

He dresses in the morning in a flannel that survived the wreckage. It reminds him of his weekend at Grayson Gilbert's cabin. He smiles to himself. It's already warmer when he steps out of the tent and he gives a look around the campground, so he forgoes that donated vintage leather jacket that's more his style. He'll grab it for the night.

As the sun beats down, he thinks about the life he left behind. A life he left on pause. And now he knows life hits play again. He thinks about Ivy, and then feels momentarily guilty for not thinking about Ivy for months. He thinks about his final phone call with Elena, not knowing her side of it, or what she was doing and he thinks about ignoring his best friend's call.

Maybe he feels most guilty for her. For trying everything with Alaric, for Damon. But not knowing how to deal. He remembers waking up in her arms. He remembers dying right in front of her. That wasn't Tyler. His mind shifts to coffee as he feels like he conjures Caroline Forbes' memory. He needs to do better. By her and by everyone. Maybe he'll try again with Damon today. Caroline would encourage him to. Even if she hates him. "He's alive here, Stefan. Maybe do something about it."

He can hear her now. It's as if she's standing right in front of him. No, she is standing right in front of him.

He blinks once. Twice. Gale mentioned she'd been here. Past tense. Maybe she's as shocked as he is? He is not this powerful, he's not a witch, he doesn't bend any world to his will. But, it feels like he asked for her. And she came.

The instinct he has to move closer, to hug her, is right there at his fingertips. But, he's been terrible to her. (And everyone, but her especially.) )

Is it you?

[highlyemotional]

[ caroline sighs, a sound so clearly put upon and so clearly fake. no one from home was here before, she was alone and it felt like that was how she was supposed to be. always second best, ancient and alone. her own father wouldn't live for her.

now, older, she still feels that way because life keeps showing her maybe it's supposed to be that way. but that doesn't mean she isn't desperate for someone that has (almost) always been on her side. ]

Of course it's me. Unlike the rest of Mystic Falls, I am one of a kind.

[ maybe it's the stefan she knows, maybe it's the stefan still in love with elena or katherine or someone else that isn't here. which is fine! she's been pining for him from the start, but she would really love to have her best friend here. ]

[interpersonally]

( He gives himself momentary permission, because it's been months since he's seen her in person. Not just one summer. Circumstances are different. Damon survives.

He owes her an apology. Or, he owes a Caroline an apology. It occurs to him for a split second, she could be from any era in their life, she could still be with Tyler. But, there is something more mature about her. More sure than he remembers. Maybe it's that she was here once before.

Cracking a smile, he laughs to himself. Maybe it is a new morning.

His footsteps draw him forward and he pulls his best friend in close. Hugging her tightly, he speaks into her shoulder. )

It's good to see you.

( Leaning back, he keeps his arms around her. )

Are you back?

( Is this the Caroline Gale spoke so highly of? )

[highlyemotional]

[ his arms fold around her and like a thunder jacket for a stressed puppy, caroline relaxes into stefan's arms with a heavy sigh. he's always been able to calm her, like a super power.

at his question, her head cocks in confusion. ]

How do you know I was here before?

[ he wasn't here. ]

[interpersonally]

Gale. I've been here for... three months now.

( And there's a lot she doesn't know, how and why he became friends with Gale in the first place. Who else is here. Their month as other people. What's happened to Damon. How he won't speak to his brother.

He realizes they're still in an embrace and pulls his arms back. )

He really liked you. Likes. ( Like him. He looks down, then, regrets piling up. Knowing he needs to address what he did back home. How he'd left her calls go unanswered. How he just up and left.

There are other things, his alliance with -- arrangement with Klaus he's fallen into as the last person from home who trusts him. Katherine's no longer here, so he doesn't start there. ) I think this is the part where I ask what the last thing you remember is. We've had some timeline discrepancies between us. Damon. Klaus. Katherine, but she's gone now.

[highlyemotional]

[ gale.

caroline's face lights up and it must be a blow to stefan's ego because she was not as happy to see stefan as she is to hear that gale is still here. gale is still here and he remembers caroline, likes caroline. and that's the nicest thing she's heard all day and it tides her over when stefan lets her go and she finds herself bereft of physical comfort.

still, she rallies, forcing a bright smile on her face. ]

I recently met your first girlfriend and she tortured me, on your mother's orders.

[ she rolls her shoulders. her flawless skin bears no evidence of the pain and sometimes caroline thinks it couldn't have been that bad, could it? if she can bear it and it heals so beautifully, it couldn't have been that bad. but she can feel the vervain burning through her bloodstream if she thinks about it even a little bit, can smell how it burned stefan's skin as he tried to help her.

it was that bad, but she keeps up appearances regardless! she will fake it until she makes it. ]

[interpersonally]

( as soon as Gale heard Stefan and Damon were from Mystic Falls, he let them know they'd missed Caroline by only a few months. at the time, Stefan had been grateful. he'd been missing everyone of his own volition, what would another reunion mean after he left her and everyone else behind. he doesn't know. but now, with her in front of him, he finds he doesn't want to run. it feels like progress.

none of that rings a singular bell in his mind. he moves in close again, hands coming to her rolling shoulders, inspecting her himself. he's been tortured before, too. they all have. why does it feel like caroline's always the one that has to deal with it.

she does seem to be in one piece.

but now, he - tries to put the pieces together. first girlfriend. first girlfriend? his? valerie? he'd never told anyone about valerie, not his brother, not caroline. that was his first life and she didn't go through with their plan to run away together. how could caroline -- and -- )

Valerie tortured you. On my - ( Mother's orders. Two things are true, as he looks past her, eyes searching for the story in this. His didn't die. And Valerie is still alive. And, with his mother? His mother was long gone, dead when he was a young boy - under his father's abusive thumb. His eyes find hers, again.

He doesn't know how to play this. He lied to Damon because he knew when he was from, after Tyler Lockwood had bitten him. And he was able to play that off. The same was true with Katherine and their road trip with Klaus' family. A far cry from a future he clearly hasn't lived yet. But, he doesn't lie to Caroline. That's not who he is. (No, he just abandons her.) ) Right. I -- why was Valerie Tulle torturing you? That's who you're talking about. ( Obviously not Elena. And obviously not Katherine. But she has nine lives. Even though Bonnie said she was sucked into the dark place, he wouldn't be surprised if she had come back. ) I'm sorry, I haven't made it there yet.

( Maybe Klaus doesn't win as the furthest along, but his daughter's fifteen. So, he would still bet he's ahead. )

Damon was from just after Klaus' ritual and I'm -- I'm from after the travelers banished us from Mystic Falls. I'm from that summer. Why would my mother have Valerie torture you?

[highlyemotional]

[ her lips purse, a pinched little look of annoyance. well he didn't have to full name valerie. they both knew who she was talking about. ]

Why does anyone torture me? Damon.

[ it's not always damon. sometimes it's because of elena. but she loves elena, elena is her family. damon she tolerates for stefan and bonnie and elena, for her mother, so damon can take the blame for all of it. she knows it isn't even about her, she's collateral damage.

she sighs, lifts one hand to cover stefan's where he's holding her. sometimes he's so hard to be angry with because he feels so much, the most empathetic person she's ever known. ]

You don't have to apologize for something that's not your fault, Stefan. You may apologize for ignoring all my calls for months though, I could bear to hear that apology again.

[interpersonally]

Damon.

( well, that's - a bell he'll have to ring soon, then.

he still gets to be frustrated, though, because now he feels behind the times. he was the worst at maintaining them and spiraled over that first month, so he's happy caroline doesn't have to hold it on her shoulders alone. he wants to ask a few more questions, but, she jumps right to an apology owed.

and he smiles. she can always make him smile. )

That apology I can give. Even though I don't deserve it. ( he's had some perspective on his tunnel-vision decisions. cursed damon. again. probably earned himself another fauxternity of misery if you ask him. ) I wasn't living. But, you know that. ( he ran away. made a life. sleptwalk through that life. ) But, that was three months ago for me. And, Klaus has already filled me in. Damon and Bonnie make it back. So, that part of it... ( he lets go again and takes a step back with an exhale. he looks away. ) About Damon.

[highlyemotional]

Thank you. I forgive you.

[ and she feels for him, not knowing that her best beloved bonnie (and damon) was alright, alive and well, was difficult. she's glad klaus told him, saved him the uncertainty. she wonders what else klaus told him.

elena, bonnie, her mother, oh. oh he doesn't know about her mother. her breath jumps, skips, but she doesn't want to think about her mom right now. she can't think about her mom right now. she circles back to being grateful klaus told him about bonnie (and damon) and lets the undercurrent of discomfort at being grateful to klaus for anything push away thoughts of her mom. ]

Do you want to talk a walk?

[interpersonally]

That was easier than I expected. Is this because we've already done this once before?

( it shouldn't be this easy. but, he lets it go, turning back. it sounds like they both have to get something off their chests. )

Yeah. I'd like that. ( he leaves all things damon, klaus, katherine, unsaid. he smiles again. he's needed this. klaus is something, but he's not a friend like caroline. there is nobody like caroline. she's right. she's one of a kind. ) I've missed you.

( maybe they can talk about his mother. or valerie? or damon. or whatever happened with her damon. anything. she's here now. )

There's a lake. Or, we could walk the scenic route around the rubble.

[highlyemotional]

[ she nods, agreeing with his guess that she forgave him once already. and she will do again.

despite that they're not a couple, she takes his hand because stefan has to hold her hand, that's his job as her best friend. she's having a rough day and he has to hold her hand. ]

I know the lake, the rubble is new so. Let's go there first. What happened?