[EVE] Gas, Gratitude, and Narrow Escapes

Gas huffing has always been one of my favorite ways to lose track of time. There’s something soothing about it—the slow draw of clouds into my hold, the quiet of j-space pressing in, the sense that for once nothing needs to be rushed.

Which is probably why I didn’t notice the Stiletto at first.

I was distracted by something shiny—some glimmer in the cloud that made my brain go ooh—and by the time my d-scan caught up with reality, things had escalated quickly. One Stiletto. Then an Enyo. Then a Malediction. And finally, because the universe has a sense of drama, a Tengu.

I did what any reasonable explorer would do: my heart attempted to exit my Prospect.

I was scrammed almost immediately, engines whining uselessly as my ship refused to go anywhere. I remember thinking, very calmly, yeah, that’s fair—completely prepared to be podded, because this one was absolutely on me.

Then, because I am apparently incapable of being normal, I spoke in local.

o7 hugs – enjoy the content!

Yes, I know. Local in j-space. Technically frowned upon. But Signal Cartel isn’t most people, and honestly? If I’m going to die, I’d rather be polite about it.

To my surprise, they answered. Turns out they were running training exercises. Even more surprisingly, they thanked me—thanked Signal Cartel—for the work we do keeping Thera bookmarks updated. Apparently those routes had saved them more than once.

I smiled so hard it probably showed on my Prospect’s biometric readouts.

Scram dropped. No podding. Just a moment of mutual respect floating in a gas cloud where I fully deserved consequences and somehow didn’t get them.

As I aligned out, I couldn’t shake the feeling that the universe had gently cleared its throat—nothing cruel, just a quiet reminder to keep one eye on d-scan next time, no matter how pretty the clouds look.

I warped off toward my freeport home, hands still shaking a little. My heart was racing, my cargo hold smelled like gas, and the stars felt very close all of a sudden.

But I was safe.

And sometimes, in j-space, that’s more than enough.

[EVE] A Four-Jump Miracle

I finished the last Winter Nexus site with that quiet little sense of closure you only get when an event finally stops blinking at you from the Events window. Snowstorms done. Ice holds emptied. Festive distractions neatly wrapped up and put away.

Which meant it was time to go home.

I started the usual routine in highsec—probing, bookmarking, checking signatures that led absolutely nowhere interesting. Highsec wormholes have a habit of being either wildly inconvenient or aggressively rude, and I was fully prepared for a long chain, a filament, or a very resigned sigh.

And then the universe did something rare.

Four jumps.

That’s all it took. Four jumps from the system I’d been running Winter Nexus sites in, there it was: a clean, quiet entrance that led straight into my j-space neighborhood. Not near it. Not adjacent to something vaguely familiar. Home.

I actually laughed. Out loud. To nobody.

I took the hint immediately. No dithering. No “one more site.” I slipped through the hole before the universe could change its mind, bookmarks snapping into place like muscle memory waking back up. The silence of wormhole space settled around me, familiar and comforting in a way highsec never quite managed.

Since I was there anyway, I made myself useful.

I offloaded my PI components—weeks’ worth of slow, patient planetary logistics—into a tidy drop, labeled and ready for my hauler friend to scoop whenever they crossed paths with civilization. One less thing rattling around in my cargohold. One less excuse to linger somewhere I didn’t belong.

When I finally powered down, floating safely in j-space again, it felt like exhaling after holding my breath for far too long.

Sometimes you hunt wormholes.

Sometimes they find you.

Either way, I wasn’t arguing with a four-jump miracle.

[WoW] Gold Making – Week 52 (2025)

It is the final week of 2025! Sales were slow, I took a lot of breaks. I brought in just shy of 2 million gold this week, and for my absolute low effort, I’m OK with that. So let’s take a look at the year in general.

For the year Tradeskillmaster has me sitting at 136,486,212g earned, and I spent about 4 million of that on random bits and bobs (probably craft supplies, since I hate farming). I also had some very low performing months at the beginning of the year since I wasn’t really playing. September was my best month ever, with over 14 million gold earned for that month alone.

My highest performing realm is Area52, comes as no surprise, it’s the most populated realm in all of NA. Competition may be fierce, but even posting once a day ensured me sales. I don’t bother cancel scanning, if I did I’m sure the numbers would go even higher.

I have roughly 90 million liquid gold left at the time of this post. I’ve purchased game time, expansions, and many (many) gifts for friends. I even got banned for the first time ever later this year – but it was overturned. Never did find out what caused that one.

In any case. I’m excited about midnight, I’m excited about 2026, and I’m looking forward to whatever the future brings in regards to gold making. I’ve been playing this odd meta game for about 9 years now, and it never fails to entertain.

As always, happy gaming, no matter where you find yourself.

[EVE] When the Loot Table Knows Your Lore

I wasn’t expecting anything sentimental from the Winter Nexus loot tables.

SKINs, boosters, the occasional questionable fashion choice—sure. But halfway through clearing another icy site, my cargo scanner chirped and flagged something… odd. I cracked open the container and just stared at the manifest for a long second.

Industrial-sized container of bubble bath.
Concentrated. Viscous. Enough to drown a station in foam.

The shipping label caught my eye next.

Destination: R-AG7W
Sender: A.E.

I laughed out loud in my Endurance.

Of course.

I could picture it instantly—the Keepstar, smothered in bubbles, space turned into a bath toy nightmare while fleets clashed and history happened. Asher’s bubbles. The kind that didn’t pop easily, didn’t wash away, and definitely didn’t get forgotten by anyone who’d lived there when the shields went up.

I drifted there for a moment, letting the memory settle. R-AG had been loud. Chaotic. Home, once. And here I was now, mining festive ice in highsec, holding a joke-in-a-box addressed to a place that no longer felt like it existed in quite the same way.

I secured the container back into my hold, still smiling.

Winter Nexus had a strange sense of humor—digging up old wars, old wounds, and wrapping them in tinsel. Somewhere out there, someone had labeled this thing with intention. Maybe nostalgia. Maybe spite. Maybe just a very specific sense of comedy.

Either way, I carried on. Harvesters cycling. Snow drifting. Bubbles in a box.

New Eden never forgets. It just learns how to laugh about it later.

[Life] Merry Christmas

Christmas can be a complicated season. On the outside, it’s lights and traditions and doing everything I can to keep the magic alive for my kids. It’s just my immediate family, and we work really hard to make the days feel special — baking, decorating, wrapping gifts, creating moments I hope they’ll remember fondly. During the day, there’s noise and purpose and motion, and I pour myself into that role completely.

But when the house finally goes quiet at night, the loneliness has a way of settling in. There’s no extended family gathering, no busy calendar full of visits, no one dropping by. It’s in those quiet hours that the weight of how small our circle is becomes very real, and Christmas can feel less like a celebration and more like a reminder of what’s missing.

Still, I’m grateful for something: the gaming community and the friends I’ve made through gaming. In a season that can feel isolating, they’ve been kind, welcoming, and genuinely lovely. Sometimes connection doesn’t look like a crowded living room — sometimes it looks like shared worlds, late-night conversations, and knowing you’re not as alone as you thought. And this Christmas, that has meant more than I can put into words.