Serendipity

Gatekeeper. Gaslighter. Girlboss.

i love the samp vibe of these screenshots 😍

❤️

oh my god I’m loving this already

Daydreams — Philip Martorano's fat ass was warming up to Tabitha as was expected. A boomer living on borrowed time thanks to his unhealthy indulgence in food and alcohol would certainly pick up on Tabitha's unmistakable beauty. Her blonde hair, hot body, and conservative flair was a hook, line, and sinker. If he knew he was going to croak soon, he might as well do so with a blonde beauty by his side. A blonde beauty eager to cash in on the life insurance policy and play the part of a grieving widow. As cunning as Tabitha's plan was to play the waiting game on Philip Martorano's life, her forbearance shook with each embrace and show of affection from the older man. She couldn't feel removed from the reality of the situation when he was filling up what was void in her heart. The more she rendezvoused with Martorano, the less disillusioned she became about who she was and what version of herself she even was. These were the same thoughts of uncertainty she battled with after removing Kathleen Manucci from her one-time fiancé Theodore Manucci's life, but realizing that all was not that it was cracked out to be in her head. Tabitha's dreams were her escape from the real world. The rejection and persecution she faced all vanished in her rose-tinted scenes where she was a doting wife and a devoted mother. That's why she'd worked so hard to realize her dream, even if it came at the expense of wrecking the Manucci marriage. Her saccharine idea of love and what it would do for her drove her until the fantasy came undone. As she looked at Martorano with doe eyes, she couldn't help but evoke the same feeling she had with Teddy. Just like she'd daydreamed of being Mrs. Manucci, she was now daydreaming about being Mrs. Martorano. It made it harder to look at Martorano as a big, sweaty piggy bank, when she also saw her future husband in him.

hot

Return — Tabitha Marie Grace had been successfully rehabilitated. Or something like that. The return to Los Santos was unceremonious and not up to Tabitha's standards. First, driving a RENTAL car back? A nightmare. The air freshener's scent, undoubtedly christened Migraine in a New Car, had bothered her the whole drive home. Second, the locks to the La Puerta beachfront abode had been changed on her, which meant having to get a hotel on her own dime. As someone who sees other people's wallets as a resource for her to exhaust, this troubled the pennywise—with her own money—Tabitha. Richman Hotel was a no-go. But the third setback might have been the worst of all... up shit's creek without a paddle, Tabitha hoped that fresh highlights, new hair extensions, and someone massaging her head for fifteen minutes would keep her afloat. Waltzing into the premier salon she frequented that had waiting lists for months, only to be asked who she was and if she had an appointment... Rage bubbled behind Tabitha's pearly whites displayed in a smile as she was told her customer profile had been cancelled since the credit card attached to it was no longer accepted. Stripped of her luxuries, things Tabitha saw as constituents of basic human rights, and now she wasn't able to upkeep on vanity after being holed up in rehab where she definitely wasn't allowed anything that fed her conceit? Any sound person operating in reality would've been prompted to reflect on their life choices and use the failed sugar baby route as a learning lesson going forward. They'd strive on being independent, strong, and secure. But to Tabitha, that was purgatory. She was SPECIAL after all!!! Something like this only happened to peasants!!! Many laugh-cry-laugh-cry-scream-cry-laugh fits later, Tabitha had somewhat accepted her reality. She got her own apartment with her own money, got her old car out of a garage it'd been left sitting in for the duration of her absence. The car and the various jewelry, clothing, and other vestiges of her luxurious life as almost-Mrs. Manucci were the only things that couldn't be taken from her. She was short-sighted in certain things, but wily enough to make sure the car was in her name and pilfer pieces from her closet. It was a safety net she'd weaved for herself in case things wouldn't come up roses, and let's be honest, they were never going to. Plus, seeing how abruptly Teddy put Kathleen out? Tabitha couldn't have him do the same to her, not without her having anything to fall back on. Shorn of her blonde crown, Tabitha felt vulnerable standing on the street of Spanish Avenue. When she'd feel insecure before, she'd coyly play with the ends of her cascading locks of hair. Now? She'd look like the biggest div fiddling with the split ends resting on her collarbone. Tabitha was not a div. And Spanish Avenue was not where she was going to live for much longer: a plan she was about to set in motion would make sure of that... the soft murmur of an expensive SUV's engine signaled go time for Tabitha on that plan. An old friend was about to be a meal ticket.

The zero tolerance policy implemented by Nervous was the first step to fixing the problem of OOC cliques ruining other people’s fun. Unfortunately, I can say having been in the leadership chat of a faction, a lot of the dialogue pertaining to ostracizing players happens behind closed doors, unbeknownst to the player being shut out, so regulating it is extremely difficult. By whistleblowing or going against the hivemind think, you compromise your own position and become targeted by the clique. People would rather be passively complicit and keep their OOC friendships rather than step up and stop grown men from ruining other people’s experience in the faction. Maybe this is a bit off topic, but there is a very seedy aspect to how Discord communities dictate role-play, and it won’t stop until these people stop holding others hostage with their unfounded egos.

Also, this could’ve been an opportunity to revolutionize roleplay in otherwise unpopulated areas. Still could be. I’m just not understanding the logic behind mass spawning hotdog stands and benches when no one will ever interact with them, so it makes no difference. All that effort could have been put into developing, say, Legion Square as a Los Santos landmark. The various parks, the pier, the beach…

Keep, but completely reinvent the idea behind objects and their placements. 95% of the map goes unused and is only seen briefly during a car ride through the city. Benches, tables, etc are useless peripheral objects that do nothing more than act as an eyesore. Have trash and other curiosities in places that are, a) populated and b) where it makes sense. There’s flamingos and broken TVs by the Rockford Hills sign, for what? It just looks odd and serves no purpose. Look for objects that R* put in the single player version that didn’t make it to RageMP and mimic those. Less is more. Emphasis on vegetation, as it actually cultivates an atmosphere.

Discipline — Tabitha's brain was in overdrive. She was having emotional breakthroughs. She was processing her familial trauma in a controlled setting. People she didn't know would beam big smiles as she made significant process on her drug addiction recovery journey. "You're so brave," they'd assure her. Tabitha, meek and humbled by the experience would smile back at the treatment personnel. To Tabitha, everything felt... gross. Wrong. She felt infantilized. She felt robbed of the lifestyle she'd worked so hard to attain. There was no make-up, no nail salons, no hairdressers, no gentle touch of a masseuse. No money, no opulence, no cocaine. Resentment reached her bones. Resentment towards Hailey, resentment towards Teddy, resentment towards anyone she felt wronged by. She'd wonder why no one had came to her rescue. To break her out of this hellhole. Every person she knew had just abandoned her at this foreign place. Just like her father, just like her mother. Being alone stirred Tabitha. It forced her to stop and look within, which broke the fantasy. The life she'd created for herself where she was a hot, 22-year-old sugar baby leading a lavish lifestyle on someone else's dime. Reality always hit like a brick wall. Tabitha's fantasy world deflated like a balloon: quickly, all air released. What was left behind was a piece of rubber: Tabitha, sorrowful with skin sunken into a deep frown. Who'd never been bestowed with a crown unlike Kathleen Manucci. When Teddy swapped Miss San Andreas 199-something for Tabitha, it couldn't have been sweeter. She'd made up for times when she never stood a chance to be the number one, like high school prom. Alas, the cracks in the seemingly perfect happily-ever-after ending for her came fast. Kathleen remarried someone else before Tabitha walked down the aisle as Mrs. Manucci... a title she'd never have now. It was a big con. The many months of subtle manipulation, straining the Manucci marriage amounted to nothing. That realization was enough for Tabitha to clench her fists until her knuckles were ivory white, and to punch anything within reach. Just one iteration of many episodes had within the wellness center. What she only dared to admit to herself in rare moments of clarity - had in between raged episodes - was that no one was ever going to give her the life she wanted. She was on the wrong side of the twenties. There were younger, prettier Tabithas on the prowl already. Next to them, she'd never be number one. So, the sexy blonde temptress archetype bore no fruit anymore. Tabitha decided to ween off cocaine - just enough to be considered a "habitual user" - and clear her mind. She'd practice discipline so she could come up with a new plan that she'd execute. The cruel fate of ending up an old maid loomed in her mind. That just wouldn't do. Plans of finding an eligible suitor came in tandem with plans of revenge. Anyone she felt wronged by would sorely pay.