#But I will field questions on this if there are any.

[macgyvermedical]

Moving vs Fleeing (and what you need to flee)

I was on a call last night with a very reputable LGBTQ+ organization in my state that discussed the difference between moving and fleeing.

Essentially, moving is planned. You get an apartment and a job in another city- hopefully you visit that city to scope it out. Then you move your life. It takes, at minimum, months.

Fleeing is unplanned. Something is happening that is so bad in your area that you have to cut and run. It may not be police at your door. But it might be legislation that prevents you from using restrooms without the risk of being killed or arrested. It might be lack of access to medications and something that makes it illegal to get those medications in a different state. It might be the classification of your life (as someone gay or tans) as a sex crime, and sex crimes being punishable by death (a goal of project 2025).

And, they recommended, get things together before it gets to that point, even if you aren't sure that it will happen, so fleeing is as easy as possible if you need to do it.

Here's what you can do:

Pick a location you can get to either by bus, train, or car that has a good track record for your needs and that you think you could live. Do your research- are there jobs there in your field? Housing?

Then get yourself a bag or large backpack.

Get a file folder and put your documents in it. I mean things like your passport, your birth certificate, your social security card, copies of any professional licenses you have, a checkbook, name change documentation, copies of financial documents like mortgages, copies of insurance cards and policies, copies of marriage licenses, and a copy of your driver's license. These are things you might need if you have to prove your identity or get a job or apartment. Then print out maps of several routes to your destination. Put the file folder in the bag.

Add to that: a couple of changes of clothes for each person including a hat and a cloth or disposable face covering (people don't question them as much since the pandemic, and they're convenient to hide your face). Lightweight, caloric foods for at least 3 days that don't require cooking (protein bars work great for this). A month of medications and an emergency script for each medication for each person (get a paper prescription from your doctor that is good for a year or the max allowed for each medication) if you can get it. Pay out of pocket with a coupon card if your insurance won't cover your refill early. 1-2 containers of baby wipes so you don't necessarily need to shower. An empty water bottle for each person. A phone charger.

Buy a gift card that can be used for anything. I won't say how much because I don't know your situation, but make it enough that you can pay for gas or bus/train/airline tickets to your destination and (if you can) temporary lodging/food once you get there. Gift cards are less traceable than debit/credit cards and aren't easy to cancel. An alternative is cash, but that can be an easier target for theft if people see you with it.

Finally, bring something of comfort, like a blanket or memento or stuffed animal.

[elixirfromthestars]

key: angst ☽ | fluff ☼ | 18+ ♡ | 500+ notes ✧ | 1,000+ notes ୨୧

─ ⊹ ⊱ Series ⊰ ⊹ ─

The Biker's Tulip ☼ ୨୧

biker!bucky x florist!reader

A small town. A biker and a florist, each one carrying the burdens of their past, and yet despite that, finding solace in one another along the way...

─ ⊹ ⊱ Two Parts ⊰ ⊹ ─

Conflict of Interest ☼ ☽ ✧

detective!bucky x lawyer!reader

After the many failed dates Natasha set you up on, you decide to give up on the dating scene all together. That is until Bucky makes it his mission to change your mind, but will he be enough to change it?

Part II ☼ ☽

After deserting Bucky at the fair, you are left dealing with the consequences. This becomes difficult as you are all assigned to a new case. 

A Night Of Frights and Delights ☼ ୨୧

athlete!bucky x artist!reader - college au

It's Friday the 13th and the college kids in town decided to host a weekend camping trip on the outskirts of town. Your best friend convinced you to go much to your reluctance. What could go wrong when the one guy you can't stand is also there?

Part II ♡ ☼ ✧

You and Bucky have danced around the lines you've placed ever since that weekend camping trip. Months later, when Tony Stark hosts an extravagant party, he finally makes a move to cross them.

─ ⊹ ⊱ Oneshots ⊰ ⊹ ─

One Call Away ☼

agent!bucky x journalist!reader

You’re a journalist in the late 1950s working for a gossip magazine. You write an article about the actor Steve Rogers, and his agent Bucky Barnes is not happy about it. He confronts you and offers you a deal.

In Five Years ☽

bucky x enhanced!reader

Bucky was having a hard time expressing his feelings about finally being free from the Winter Soldier program. To help him out, you suggested writing a letter to his future self and burying it in a time capsule to visit this moment again in the future. The plan was to open the time capsule five years from now. That was until Thanos showed up.

My Dearest ☼ ✧ ☽

duke!bucky x lady!reader

On the night of Lady Maximoff’s ball you find yourself in the gardens, troubled by your emotions. As if by fate, the rain pours down reuniting you with the one who is the very object of your troubles.

Written in the Stars ☼

bucky x avenger!reader - established relationship

Your boyfriend, Bucky, takes you on a date full of surprises under the stars.

Boulevard Confessions ☼ ✧

40s!bucky x nurse!reader

Being a third wheel to Peggy and Steve wasn't your ideal Thursday night fun. However, when they tell you Bucky is tagging along you eagerly decide to join them. That is until a third party makes its presence known.

─ ⊹ ⊱ Drabbles ⊰ ⊹ ─

Together ☼ ✧

bucky x wife!reader

It’s been a month since you had a baby with your husband, Bucky. On the first day he went back to work, however, you can’t get her to stop crying—that is until Bucky comes home.

Fieldwork ☼ ☽

detective!bucky x lawyer!reader

You end up getting hurt while out in the field questioning a suspect. Thankfully, Detective Barnes is there to help. 

Lucky Day ☼

bucky x reader - college au

Bucky, your childhood best friend, takes you to a baseball game to thank you for helping him with his chemistry class. However, between bets and kiss cams, luck seems to be the real game being played.

Tranquility ☼

bucky x avenger!reader - established relationship

On your day off from saving the world, you decide to have a date in the park with your boyfriend Bucky.

⌞‼⌝ I do not give consent to have my work posted, translated, or published to any third party site or app. 

⌞‼⌝ All images/gifs used are not mine, and come from google unless specifically stated otherwise.​

⌞‼⌝ Heart divider by @/enchanthings

[greeniegirl23]

Isn't It.. Lovely? (Chapter 3#)

One month.

You had one month to make the biggest decision you'd ever make in your life. Part of you wondered why you didn't tell Alastor to have a field day with your Father's corpse, until you remembered that the other part of you still loved and cared for him.

He was still your Dad and once upon a time he was a very good Dad. Your parents were practically a power couple when your Mom was alive, after her death, depression fell on him like a bag of bricks. Leading him to find feeling again in glasses of wine and bottles of hard liquor.

Everyday you pondered on this, wondering if something would finally push you over the edge. If you'd snap and take revenge for yourself.

You didn't like having those thoughts. Yes, the idea of liberty made you feel elated but at the cost of the last family member you had? It was conflicting to say the least.

All that worrying came to a halt once Alastor began to solidify his place in your life.

Every night at 9pm sharp, when you were dressed for bed and your despicable abuser was asleep. Alastor used his powers to turn your radio into your own personal hotline. He was ever so happy to hear from you, happiest when he saw nor heard any traces of harm inflicted on you that day.

He soon found out that you were a curious one and a terrible over-sharer. It was obvious you never really had friends before and if you did, they left you behind long ago. You were as innocent and pure as the driven snow. Always asking questions about him, about Hell, and what it was like back when he was on Earth.

You loved when he told you more about his life. It was like he was reading you your own personal bedtime stories. Tales of speakeasies and the depression, parties that lasted from dusk to dawn, and of course, all of the completely justified crimes he committed before his demise.

As payment for his stories, you told him about your own and caught him up on modern day issues. He seemed especially interested in World War I, disappointed that he died a few years shy of when it started. You told him about your health science classes, your school, and he even became a good study buddy to help you out with your tests.

“Alright darling, last question.” He stated, a drum roll playing in the background. “If your patient performs a forward lunge, which plane of the body are they moving in?”

You chewed on the end of your pencil. “..Coronal?”

A bell dinging made you smile. “Correct! Well done darling, but I'd like for you to work on your confidence when you answer. No one wants a doctor that's unsure of what they're doing.”

“Yeah..I just get so unsure sometimes. I think I'm more scared of being wrong than being right.”

He chuckled. “Do not fret my dear! I've been doing these little pop quizzes with you long enough to know you have a sharp mind. Confidence is a tool that will solidify your place in the career you plan to pursue, so don't be afraid to utilize it more.” His voice was so kind and mentoirish. It felt like he was giving you life lessons almost every time he talked.

On one hand that made you embarrassed. Like these were things you should have already known but you didn't, but you decided to give yourself some grace. Life was different for you than everyone else, so obviously there would be some things you didn't experience to gain knowledge from.

You placed your pencil down and sat cross legged in your chair. Not being the type of person who could sit still, nor do things normally. “Is that how you become a radio host? Because you were super confident?”

There was a pause. “Well, it was something that helped. Being a professional at what I do required more than just believing in myself. Most people think it's easy, but it has its challenges. For example, I used to rehearse my script in the mirror to stop myself from unconsciously going ‘umm’ every 10-30 seconds. It also aided in preventing myself from fumbling my words.”

“That sounds like solid advice.” You smiled. “I should start keeping a journal when you're around and call it ‘Life Lessons As Taught By The Radio Demon.’”

A loud cackling broke out over the radio. “Ah, so the girl does have a sense of humor. A good one at that!” He said proudly. “And here I thought you were all doom and gloom.”

“Hey! I'll have you know staying positive at all times can be very exhausting.” You huffed, placing your hands on your hips in a pouty attitude. “It's really hard to smile when it feels like the world is against you...”

There was a stagnant silence in the air as you turned your head to gaze out the window, watching the rain drizzle from the grey sky. It was your favorite weather, even more so because of the friend it allowed you to find.

Alastor pondered over your words before he took a deep breath. “That leads to a question that I've been meaning to ask you for some time now. It's a rather sensitive one so if you'd prefer not to answer, I would understand.”

Giving the plushie your attention, Alastor's tone turned concerned as he asked. “I can’t help but wonder, Darling, where is your mother..?”

Without missing a beat, you replied. “Oh, my Dad murdered her.”

A sharp microphone screech omitted from the radio. It was safe to say he most definitely was not expecting that..

Not because he can't see your degenerate of a guardian doing something of the sort, he was actually more curious as to how someone as sloppy as your Dad could get away with something like that. No. What got him was even though you were saying words that no child should ever say until they're well into adulthood, you smiled. A soft one, filled with unspeakable pain and a lust for something you could not yet gain.

You could feel him hesitating to ask you some more questions on the topic, so you decided that you could quickly give him your life story. “Whenever anyone asks about it, I always tell them that she passed from cancer but, that's not true..”

Alastor’s signal chirped in curiosity, but he made sure to sound sympathetic. “What happened?..”

You chuckled a bitter melody.

“She was born a diabetic and I was around twelve.. Everyday my Mom took her medicine, the diabetes is actually what led her to becoming a doctor in the first place. Every morning my Dad would make her coffee, as a way of telling her he loved her. I snuck a few sips before only to find out she made it black, when she caught me she told me “Mommy can't have sugar…”

When I turned fourteen, they started arguing. A lot. I can remember hearing them sometimes. Mom threatened to leave him because he was starting to grow a gambling issue and she was tired of taking the brunt of most of the bills. He promised to change and that's when everything started to go downhill.. Weeks went by, she just started getting sicker and sicker seemingly out of nowhere. Still had her morning coffee though. I'd make it for her sometimes and she reminded me “Mommy can't have sugar.” Hardly able to do anything for herself, much less take her medicine. Of course he said he'd do it, he promised me he did when he took me to school..He still made her coffee, before he went to work and after she had been made bed bound..I thought it was a lie, that it wasn't true until I realized that she died that morning with a cup of coffee in her hand..”

A sour laugh left your lips, as you recalled that day you came home from school and found her lying there with blood on the pillow, blood that she had been coughing up for almost a month.

“That bastard was poisoning her with fucking sugar… Everyday he was putting a little bit in her morning coffee and not giving her the insulin she needed. She was a Type 1 diabetic and he did all of it for some fuckin insurance money..” You sighed, running a hand through your hair. Before yanking it in frustration and punching your fist through the nearest wall, your face was blank and unmoving for a second not even flinching as you removed your bruised fist from the drywall. “Mama couldn't have sugar..”

Alastor listened as you explained your mother's demise. His distaste for your father grew more and more as he recalled memories of his own childhood. He'd never tell you to your face, but he could see parts of himself in you from his younger years, if lead in the proper manner, you could become quite the promising killer.

He shook his head. Not the best thoughts to be having right now, not while you're on the edge of a mental breakdown.

“I..Would be lying to you if I said I knew what to tell you about such an awful situation..” He stated hesitantly. “But I can say that I am sorry, that you had to deal with something like this so early in life.”

“Don't be sorry, there's nothing to be done about it…She's gone now and I have to get away from him.” You declared, looking at your now bruised hand. “Now you understand why I made that wish. On any day, at any time, for any reason, that man could decide to kill me. To kill his own daughter in cold blood..”

Alastor hummed. “If you know this, then let me help you." He demanded. "I cannot sit idly by forever my dear, these links to your world are only good for short times to prevent other demons from causing other problems. No one understands the severity of this situation more than you. I would love to help you exact revenge on that putrid sack of skin but you must choose before it is too late and I am no longer around..

You sat in silence as Alastor did his best to help you come to a decision. As much as you hated being rushed, you couldn't deny that he was correct. But the decision was hard, harder than you thought it would be considering the fact that you still loved your father and the man he used to be…

All these thoughts ran through your head on a daily basis, everytime they made you wanna curl up and cry. Snatching up the plush doll, you gave it a good squeeze and hid your face in your knees, wishing that your Mom was still around.

The Radio Demon pursed his lips in thought, he wasn't good with others emotions unless he could feed off of the entertainment from it, much less comforting them. There was nothing entertaining about this, about you being sad. He didn't like it for a reason he couldn't explain, perhaps because you were so bubbly in the beginning?

You weren't trying to do anything miraculous, you just wanted to live your life in peace and possibly get justice for your mother. That was something he could understand. He wouldn't mind completely decimating your Dad, truly he wouldn't! It'd be on the house for you, truly you're the most pitiful soul he's come across in a long while.

He supposed he could pull a few quick strings to make you feel better in the moment. To bring back that smile of yours, full of wonder and a desire for life.

As you continued to seek shelter in your knees, you felt a gentle touch caress the top of your head, sharp claws softly scraping your scalp in an attempt to comfort you.

Wait..

WHAT?!

Quickly yet carefully, you snapped your head up to see none other than The Radio Demon crouched down right in front of you. His hand still rested on the crown of the head as you both stared at each other for a moment.

“I'm sorry.. am I dreaming?” You blurted out.

Alastor smiled, laughing in a low tone at your completely gobsmacked expression. “Fortunately for you, the answer is no my dear. As a gentleman, it'd be rude of me not to at least attempt to help a lady in emotional distress.”

You were still dazed and confused about him being here, much less t o u c h i n g you!! “Ida..I-- I didn't know you could-”

“Travel through the radio? It is quite possible but I only do so on rare occasions since it requires a fair bit of my power that cannot be overexerted in one day.”

Standing up to his full height, you realized how tall he was and thanked God that the ceiling was high enough for his antlers not to scrape. Crawling out of your chair, you immediately felt like an ant compared to him, the top of your head barely came to his collarbone.

“Holy crap you're tall." You blurted again. "I mean, I knew that you were tall but, you're really, really tall..”

Smirking with pride, he twirled his cane expertly like the show off you knew and loved. “7”0 exactly my dear, a foot taller than I was when I was a mortal! Though I suppose that was the universes funny way of punishing me for my crimes, I've bumped my forehead on door frames a good 50 times in both life and death!”

As you examined his real life appearance, you couldn't help but laugh. “Yeah well, the heels don't help.” You pointed to his shoes.

He huffed in feigned offense. “They are not heels, darling they are tap dancing shoes and it was quite common for them to have a bit of height back in my day.”

“Okay, Fred Astare.” You snorted as he settled himself on the side of your bed as you marveled at the fact that he was still taller than you even while sitting down. “And here I was preparing to offer you a dance in hopes of lifting your spirits, only for you to insult my tastes in fashion.” He hmphed, crossing his arms and legs while sticking up his pointy nose towards you.

In a daring moment, you sat right next to him crissed crossed, careful not to to touch him while he continued to play offended. “C’mon Al, don't be so huffy. I didn't mean anything by it.”

“ ‘Al’ huh?” He hummed. “Sounds like someone is getting rather familiar.”

“Hey, you call me 'Darling' and 'Dear' so often I think that it's only fair that I call you 'Al' on occasions.”

“I suppose you have a point. Nevertheless, I came here to try and boost your spirits, you seem to be doing better so if you wish to be bratty I can just go back home..” He teased with an evil grin.

“Wait!” You said just a bit too loudly. “Would you like to play a game with me? Ya know, before you go..”

Alastor raised an eyebrow in curiosity as he parted his lips to deny your offer, until you pulled out the big guns and gave him your best puppy girl eyes. A chill went down his spine from your usage of such cheap tactics, remembering his years as a lad and doing the exact same thing when he wanted something desperately from his dear mother.

“Okay! Okay!” He said, placing his hands up in surrender. “I shall subject myself to whatever game this is for one round, as long as you stop making that revolting expression..”

He watched as you smiled with pure enthusiasm. Such a beautiful smile you had, it made him irritated that you didn't do it more, yet proud that he typically was the source of it sprouting in the first place. Crimson eyes followed your movements as you shuffled off the bed to grab a small deck of cards off of your shelf. A part of him hoped you heard the chuckle that left his lips while you struggled to stand on your toes to retrieve this game.

“It's called ‘Uno’ “ You explained, walking back to him with a red box in hand. “It's a pretty simple game and the rules are easy.” Dumping the cards out of the box, the two of you sat parallel with one another.

”However, this simple game has been known to end more friendships than Monopoly and Mario Kart put together. It shall truly test our bond as companions, only the strongest survive it's trials..” You spoke in a dramatic tone while shuffling the cards and placing the proper numbers out for the both of you. Once you were finished, you placed the extra cards in the middle and looked the Radio Demon square in the eye. “Are you ready?”

“Yes yes,” He replied aloofly. “There isn't any possible way this silly game could cause such a staggering amount of broken relationships. I refuse to believe it's that bad.’

You chuckled bitterly. “You beautiful unsuspecting fool.”

---------------------- ( 2 Hours Later) ---------------------

“That's against the rules!” Alastor hissed underneath his breath as you threw out a fat stack of +2 cards.

“No it's not Alastor, you said you wanted to play stacks and this is how it's played.” You muttered.

The first round between you two consisted of showing Alastor the ropes. The confident man he was, he assured you that the game was easy enough for an infant to play and win effortlessly, especially since he won the first round. You then decide to spice things up by teaching him how to play stacks. He claimed that was easy as well and you allowed him to believe this as the next round consisted of him losing, and so did the next round, and the round after that, and the round after that…

Before you knew it, two hours had gone by and Alastor was determined to beat you at least once. It had gotten so intense that he resorted to taking his tail coat off and even putting his hair up, leaving him in his tight red office shirt and hair that framed his face like the scrumdiddlyumptious being that he was. The sight of his bare arms totally didn't have you blushing up a storm behind your cards.

While he was stewing over his next move, you got to confirm a few fan theories and ogled at his appearance.

Respectfully, of course.

But, the game wasn't over yet. Alastor sat across from you, irritated and with at least eleven cards in his hand, while you had three. The air was tense as he scratched his head and finally decided to throw out a small handful of 8’s, bringing his card count down to five.

Your poker face remained unmoving as you calmly threw out a wild card. “Blue.”

A warble of interference omitted from Alastor's person as his eyes scanned his cards carefully. You were actually surprised at how the tables had turned personality wise. In the beginning, it was Alastor who was calm and collected, but every loss slowly chipped away at the pride that fueled his unwavering persona. His usual smile was now looking more forced, making his disdain obvious.

Throwing out a blue card, you threw out two on top, leaving you with one card as you stated that dreadful word. “Uno.”

With a growl, Alastor tossed out a draw +4. “Red.” He stated blandly. A quick glance at the clock let him know he was late for a meeting with Charlie, but formalities be damned because he was going to win this game.

You took your cards quickly and deemed your hand an amazing one. He replied by tossing out a 2 and leaving three cards left. Victory was close and he swore that once he won he would ‘kindly’ rub it in your face.

But, just as you had been doing for these past five rounds, you had an ace up your sleeve. You tossed out the red ‘Skip’ card, costing Alastor a vital turn that could have turned the tables, only to metaphorically slap him in the face by cheering “Uno!” and dropping your final cards in the middle of the messy deck.

He suppressed a scream of irritation as you did your little victory dance, glaring at you both with gaiety and pure spite. He stood up and snapped his coat back on and his hair back down, he pinched your cheek just a little too hard. “That's enough cutting a rug darling, especially for someone that has two left feet such as yourself.”

“Stop trying to cease my dancing, I must wiggle out my joy.”

With a roll of his eyes, he tuned the radio on to his station to prepare to go back home. “Well you can dance until your heart's content, unfortunately I have to return back home to handle some business.”

Immediately your uncoordinated movements stopped, as you frowned. “Oh, right..”

Part of him felt bad. Not that he would tell you outright, but he didn't exactly want to leave you behind either. The thoughts of what your father could do unannounced made him concerned for your safety, but there wasn't anything he could do. Instead, he smiled genuinely and lifted your gaze up with his finger.

“Chin up, dearest. I shall check on you tomorrow as always and don't forget, you still need to make up your mind about what you want from the options presented to you.”

You didn't reply verbally, but you did nod your head sadly which would have to be enough for now. As he prepared to walk off, he was suddenly stopped by a tight embrace from behind. Anyone else who would have ever dared to think of such a thing would have been a splatter on the wall and he was just about to give you a kind yet serious talk about personal space until he felt something wet soaking through his clothes.

“..Thank you.” You mumbled through the fabric. Inhaling his scent as you sniffled and tried to calm down, honestly you were surprised he didn't push you off.

As mentioned before, emotions were not Alastor's think nor was physical affection. However in this moment, with you crying lightly and hugging him as if he were your only hope of survival, he decided that maybe, just this once, he would let it slide.

For his comfort, you didn't allow the hug to last longer than a minute. Once you pulled away you were embarrassed to say the least and prepared for him to possibly scold or never talk to you again. But, to your surprise, he simply pat your head and whispered, “Sleep tight, cher.”and was gone with a blink of your eyes.

To say you were sad was an understatement, but you knew that he'd be back tomorrow like he was everyday. The idea of talking to him tomorrow. To hear his voice in real time, talking to you and to offer comfort because he actually cared made your heart pound in your chest. As much as you didn't want to think this way, you couldn't help it. He seemed so concerned about you, in a way that no one else has until now.

You did your best to still your beating heart as you began to clean up your fun from earlier, only to find your cards were missing. You looked everywhere and still couldn't find them, ultimately you claimed into bed and decided that maybe Alastor snapped them somewhere you'd never find so that he wouldn't have to loose, I mean, play anymore.

Meanwhile…

“Alastor you're late!” Vaggie snapped as he came waltzing down the stairs, following her to where the rest of the group sat waiting.

“I am aware Vagatha, I was busy doing something else.” He replied calmly, only to make the fallen angel more irritated. “Whatever, I hope you brought something because it's your turn for a group activity today..”

“But of course! How could I forget?” He smiled impishly, before pulling out a red box with a familiar word on it. Once with the rest of the residents, Alastor clapped his hands together and pulled out a chalkboard seemingly out of nowhere.

“For today's activity being hosted by yours truly, we shall all be playing a game suited for bonding and the strengthening of relationships,” He beamed, writing out the title of the game in big letters for everyone to see.

“The name of the game is...UNO!"

------------------------------------------------------------

(Thank you for coming back for Chapter 3# of this story! I hope you stick around for the next one because I plan to make it the last. I've been so busy with life and stuff, it's kinda hard to find time or motivation to write, but I do want this to come to a close while still making room for a bit of fun between Al and the Reader.

For those who asked me to make a tag list, I'm not entirely sure how to 😅. Though I will try to figure it out for the next time I write a short story. Don't forget to leave your opinions behind in the comments and thank you for all the love you guys give me, it means a lot 💜

Stay Tuned! :D

Taglist: @twistedvanillacoffee @diffidentphantom @boldlyenchantingfox22

[queenrizzardnthelizardscissored]

finally wrote out what i hated about DATV lore [SPOILERS]

my problem isn't really the lore in particular. like any answer to the question of "who is andraste" or "what the blight is" would be unsatisfying. it's that its there at all and super heavily focused on. like, the thing i loved about Origins is that it's not really about the blight. it's about political turmoil and a traitor whose fear of cooperation ends up dooming the nation, and the origins reinforce this. City elf in particular has a just brutal intro that focuses entirely on the politics and inequality of the society, as well as the community that forms to help support them. The mage origin is equally brutal, with your friend being sentenced to lobotomization for basically no reason, and again your friendship (or perhaps betrayal) despite the fact that every hint of community is cracked down upon. The influence of andrastianism is omnipresent and heavily politicized. Every group but human noble faces persecution in some way, and even the human noble is sort of treated as dead the instant they join the wardens. their role is very narrow and departure from that role is fucked. What you fight in origins is, by and large, not the blight! you fight the dwarvhen nobility who are stuck in political gridlock even as things get worse, trying to reclaim their past glory. you fight the templars who are so blinded by fear and by their duty that they are willing to slaughter men women and children wholesale. you fight the retributive (maybe justified) cruelty of the dailish clan and their rightful fear of outsiders. you fight political corruption and graft and a leader who is willing to sell his OWN PEOPLE into slavery for what he claims is the good of all.

then in 2, you're just some refugee mercenary struggling to stay afloat in a foreign city, surrounding themselves with a support group that's also fucked up, trying to keep the city and their family (new and old) together. Yes, there's the bit about the red lyrium, but even then, meredith doesn't really go insane just because of it. It's because of the turmoil initially sparked by, well, a number of things; the blight, the qunari presence and subsequent invasion, an influx of refugees, and the mage crisis, which is a self-fulfilling prophecy of sorts - the mages are performing blood magic out of desperation, so she restricts them more, so they get more desperate, so she restricts them more, and so on, not to mention the influence of religious extremism and fundamentalism. we get to see the radicalization of everyone in your party as the world seems to get more and more dark, as your family/group splinters, but is held together almost by the fact that they have nowhere else to go, that they need support. characters fight, make each other worse. they are also all individuals, all their own people, struggling against each other and against society. the crimes of individuals are both tied to political turmoil and trauma and also uniquely their own. The story is so tragic, and all the tragedy comes from PEOPLE. the insufficient evacuation before the blight, Loghain's abandonment on the field, then isabela's theft of the tome and the qunari fanaticism and fear of punishment that keeps them there, the fear of the unknown and the andrastian zealotry that stokes the flames of both qunari tensions and hatred against mages and the elvhen. We also see that there exist communities, that this hatred is not universal; anders provides free healing in his clinic and it is so beloved that the community bands together to protect him. it's also my favorite game in the series for the above reasons, the helplessness your character feels and the tragedy of their lives in general.

Inquisition starts to lose the plot, but i've always seen corypheus and the evil blight guys not so much as villains in their own right as much as a force that needs to be arrayed against, a la blight in DAO. there's scenes like the winter palace where rascism, classism, and xenophobia are major issues, in a horrific society that burns alienages and treats elvhen only slightly better than slaves. and thennnn they start to kind of go off the rails with weird lore stuff - but even then. even then. we have the tevinter mage driven mad by his son's terminal illness, willing to do anything, but also tinged by the cult of exceptionalism from his homeland, his belief that he is rightfully justified to do anything and everything because he and his people are superior. we have samson (who SHOULD HAVE BEEN CULLEN. Come on. it works so much better if the guy we've built up across 2 prior games as hating mages is the one to do it here) who is motivated not even purely by hatred of mages but by the way the chantry treats their templars, by the way they are thrown aside after and left to rot after they serve the purpose. there's the town councillor who sells her own people into slavery in an effort to keep the town afloat and people alive in the middle of a civil war that threatens their wellbeing. there's the mayor who floods a massive area and murders countless in an attempt to save more lives by preventing the spread of illness. None of these characters are super-gods, nor does all this 'deep lore' matters. what matters is the culture, the mores of the society, the zealotry and belief and disbelief.

what im trying to say i guess is that andrastianism is interesting not because of any objective reality/did the maker actually exist guys??? questions, but because of the cultural effects it has. like leilana thinking she's chosen in DAO, like the templars thinking they're performing a holy duty, like the oppression of other religions, like the multiple exalted marches and the schism between the southern and northern chantries, like the xenophobia in DA2, and, in something that i feel that inquisition underexplores, the sheer and utter fervor that convinces hundrds of thousands of people to join something called 'The Inqusition' under a person they believe is chosen by their god. The same thing is true for the dailish, especially given they've been opressed and fucked over, driven out of their lands. An interesting part about Solas in inquisition for me was his inability to understand cultural change and his fixed idea of what the world is: the valasslin as slave-markings stuff was really interesting to me because of the cultural connotations, how they changed from slave-markings to symbols of a people over time through reclamation and simple loss of knowledge, how they evolved, and then how Solas can only see their initial meaning without understnading that their cultural meanings and connotations have shifted, that they now symbolize freedom from humans and a distinct cultural tradition, an effort to maintain an identity even as the world punishes them for it. And of course there's the dwarven, living in the ruins of their past empire, constantly holding back the tide of the darkspawn thanklessly, while also getting wealthy off of the money provided by the fact they are the sole source of lyrium, and the qunari, with their quasi-fascist, fundamentalist society that is so utterly alien to almost every other character.

But in this game they ignore all that and focus entirely on the objective 'is this statement true' thing. it shouldn't have mattered for the stories in Dragon Age WHO the enavuris are, were they evil or not. It shouldn't have mattered that andraste is mythal. what should have mattered is political tensions, rascism, xenophobia, slavery, trying to build a better world even as hope seems dim. That's what I loved about DA2 - all the bright spots in kirkwall even as the world is fucked, like the literal lantern Anders lights for his free clinic, and in DAO and DAI it's much the same - your character is a bright spot, of sorts, trying to make the world better or acting as a source of hope. An ordinary person dealing with extraordinary things. But these extraordinary things themselves are not usually directly the magic or the blight or corypheus, those things are just the catalyst. They are forces arrayed against a fragile society, toppling the inbuilt power structures and straining value systems to their limits. Telling us that everything was the ancient elves all along is hackneyed and lame, but it's also useless (or it should be.) What does it matter what the elves were or who the maker was or if the golden city is actually what it is? what matters is that people think the maker is real and spirits were made by Him, the elves think the enavuris/creators were gods, the templars think mages and demons are dangerous, etc, etc.

And htis is where DAVs writing really falls apart. Lots of people have talked about this, so im going to keep it short. First and most obviously is rascism is gone from the world, basically. your character is an elf and yet despite the game taking place in the 'all elves are put into slavery' country, no one gives a shit. And then of course is the fact that no one gives a shit about these massive revelations, and are all easily believed, and that the dailish so easily turn on their gods. But beyond all these problems is a bigger one:

WE SHOULDNT HAVE BEEN DEALING WITH GODS.

this was a mistake first made in inquisition, but fucked up more and more in this game. This series has NEVER been about gods, never been about these things, which is for the better; there is SO MUCH FANTASY talking about gods and stuff. Here, though - oh actually this god is now evil and now we're dealing with two blights at once etc etc etc. Worse even than the fact that this ruins the entirety of the lore and the core conceit of dragon age as a deconstruction of fantasy tropes and a more grounded universe is the fact it ruins the power levels and the fact the interesting things of the previous games are gone. In DAO we spent a whole game trying to kill one archdemon, and it takes cooperation from the elvhen and dwarven and the mages and the actual nobility and banns of Ferelden, and then a character either DIES TRYING or is saved by a dubiously moral ritual, and EITHER WAY IS IMMORTALIZED IN HISTORY FOR IT in a massive tomb in weisshaupt. In this game? we kill TWO archdemons in one game and no one BLINKS. We fight elvhen gods, oh, just another day at the office. ALL OF THE SOUTH IS OBLITERATED and almost every character from the previous 3 games is dead? oh. yeah. that's normal dude. no one seems to even give a shit that that happened.

Solas is an interesting character on his own, but they should've made him useful and powerful in a different way. in trespasser, he has spies all over the place, a whole power network, and he's doing so subtly. he makes an effort to save people even as he tears the world apart. now, though? he's on his own and evil and immensely powerful. How does this tie in to any cultural aspects? how is he a personable evil that navigates cultures and societies and religions? he's just one dude out to fuck up/fix the world.

this was too long but i had to get it all out.

[morallysuperiorlips]

Fanfiction Taught Me 90% of What I Know About Writing

That’s the gods honest truth. And I’m saying that as someone who has a literal college degree in writing.

I took SO MANY writing classes in college. All genres. Creative. Playwriting. Screenwriting. Editorial. Journalistic. Business. Technical. I’ve been writing since I could hold a pencil correctly, and really started to pursue it in 2nd grade when every teacher following gushed about my writing skills. I can confidently say I’ve been honing my craft for over two decades.

However, I didn’t really git gud at writing until I started really writing fanfiction. Like, joining a fandom and actively writing an ongoing fic for it.

Again, I’d taken years upon years of writing classes. I learned story structure, grammar, theming, POVs, tone, etc. all throughout school. I learned how to receive feedback and edit my work a little more down the road. I learned from professionals in the field. I worked with mentors.

However, none of that helped my skyrocket my skills like writing fanfiction did.

Fanfiction taught me how to actually write deep, nuanced, and compelling characters. I never once filled out a 200-question character sheet for any character I wrote on some silly school assignment. I never knew how to really know my characters until I was writing OCs for a fandom.

Fanfiction taught me the value of being concise. My schooling had drilled the concept of long, purple prose into me over time and in writing for a fandom for a children’s game, I unlearned that real quick.

Fanfiction really taught me the concept of “show, don’t tell.” I never really knew what a penchant I had for info dumping until somebody pointed out to me most of my headcanon’d lore drops happened in exposition and not in action.

Fanfiction taught me how to worldbuild. Eating the canon of my preferred fandom gave me a lot of time to strengthen my chops while I came up with my own answers to canon lore I hated.

Fanfiction taught me consistency. In school, I mostly wrote short stories. I hadn’t really bitten off a longer project until I started writing a longfic, and in doing so, I learned how to keep my characters, plot, and world consistent for a prolonged period of chapters.

Fanfiction gave me a close-knit community to consistently bounce my ideas off of, and give me feedback that actually served me in terms of bettering my skills and the story I was writing. Not just for the sake of meeting the measures of a grade or rubric given by a teacher.

I could go on and on, but tl;dr, I owe my current skillset and understanding of writing to writing fic. I wouldn’t be at the level I am without it. Honestly, I wouldn’t even be writing my current WIP without it.

So, to anyone who might have told you that fanfic is a waste of time, they are just objectively wrong. And if you’re reading this thinking for yourself that fanfic is a waste of time, well, you’re stupid and also objectively wrong :>

Fanfiction is valuable. Don’t underestimate it.

[sturionic]

hey, you said your inbox is open and I was curious if you have any ideas for someone who can't get involved irl in things like protests and local antifa groups (physically disabled and incapacitatingly severe anxiety), and who can't get involved in online activism beyond reblogging stuff (personal reasons, difficult to explain)?

I've been considering trying to put together care packages for local unhoused people, but I'm poor and I'd have to convince someone to help me put everything together so idk how well that will go.

I don't want to sit around doing nothing.

Hey anon! I am very glad you reached out, and this is a question I get asked a lot by people IRL, so you are very much not alone here.

I think the first order of business is expanding your definition of activism. We have been done a great disservice by having activism framed for us as protests, charity, & singular heroes making speeches and changing hearts through celebrity. In reality, the smaller actions in your community have a much greater impact; and most of all, the things you personally have to offer make the greatest impact.

This diagram is specifically geared towards climate action, but really applies to all activism:

For you to be an effective activist/volunteer/community member, it's crucial to find the centre of that diagram, or else you're on a one-way ticket to burnout. Don't get caught up in trying to judge which is the most "important" activism, because that answer will be different for everyone. The most important thing you can do for the world is the thing you can do.

I've done lots of volunteering and volunteer management in multiple fields, and there really is lots of choice out there for things that suit you; anything from sorting files quietly in a back room to using computer knowledge (often VERY absent in community groups lol) to help with maintaining websites & promoting community events. One of my personal favourite volunteer shifts was acting as a helper to the organizers of a queer electronic music festival, running a "build your own synthesizer" workshop. Literally I was just ticking off names on a registration sheet and doing setup and fetching things, but it was one of the coolest things I've had the joy to be involved in.

The other plus here is that activists in a given city all usually have some social overlap. If you email, say, your local community centre, explain your interests & circumstances & skills, and ask what you could do - they might not have anything right that moment, but likely someone there will know a different group that needs something similar, or they'll have ideas for who you could try next. Even if you're not finding a lot online right away, have faith in the (slightly haphazard) offline community org social scene. Same deal if you get involved with something and realize it's not your thing after all - just be honest, and ask for help in finding something more suited to you. It's so, so common, and no one's going to get angry with you for wanting to help in ways you're better suited for.

Don't mistake me when I nudge you towards volunteering - there's a certain way that well-meaning (usually) liberals treat volunteering, like they're 'donating' their time as charity, and I am not advocating for that. I'm just saying that you really don't have to reinvent the wheel. There are structures in place run by people who know well how to do it. Part of the importance is the work itself; the file-sorting, the computer help, whatever. But another part is building connections with the people around you, and also letting those people benefit from the privilege of knowing you. And that will happen naturally over time. The muscle will grow as you use it more, even if you need to start with something that feels to you like it might not be enormously significant in the grand scheme of things. Maybe you move on to 'bigger' things, or maybe you gain new perspective and realize just how significant your contributions are after all.

[n0tamused]

Albedo Headcanons

A/n: Since I don't have much to post rn, I decided to go back to some of my old headcanons that I didn't publish and expand on them. These ones are all the way back from 2022 even, but I'm still happy with my portrayal of Albedo lol. Hope you all enjoy them too! I did work on these a little more, but I didn't take in consideration all the new events with Albedo after 2022. Keep that in mind.

Contents: General platonic and romantic headcanons, Albedo x GN!Reader, fluff, dash of angst if you squint really hard, self indulgent, possible grammar mistakes

General headcanons:

- Albedo is not a person who really indulges much, or at all, in friendships and relationships. He can understand the appeal, but he simply does not care as much as an average individual. He has his work to get to and his research to keep going, and the continuously taxing process of keeping relationships in general are tiring for him

- He prefers his solitude much more than any other company. He may not be in love with people much, but he is in love with the trees, the branches, the snow falling and the frozen lakes of Dragonspine - every new day means a new love for him, and he cannot wait to do his homework on anything and everything, even things he understands fully now. One thing you can equate this love of his to is the snow of Dragonspine itself, countless snowflakes hugging the lands, buried deep in crevices and cracks, trying to get to the center of the world.

- Since he has researched so much, even the smallest of new discoveries are very exciting for him, it’s those small joys that show his inner being through the smile that lights his eyes and makes the corners of them crinkle.

- Due to his drawn back nature, and his origins, he isn't so well met with emotions, so those are one of his many interests and curiosities.  He is well mannered, he knows how to maneuver a situation, but when he looks back at it, he can't help but feel distant and confused - why did they get so excited over such a small thing? Why did she blush so easily? Why did that boy get so scared by some wind? Why did he find himself observing the contours of someone’s face when he didn’t know them? Why did he wish to sketch them?..etc 

- He doesn't think he feels sorrow/regret like the others, he isn't like the others that much is certain. Sometimes when he is alone in some comfortable space he will just stare somewhere and wonder.... how would have he turned out if he just...felt more.. What does true happiness without limitations feel like? What is freedom? Does it come without regrets? In those moments he understands what sadness is. All these thoughts make him feel so heavy, his chest is heavy and tight and his heart feels lonely. At times he thinks what would happen if one of his close co workers were to suffer an injury or quit their work for greener pastures, the field of alchemy certainly wasn’t any easy one for everyone. He knows he’d miss their presence.

- There are many more complex questions that plague him late at nights, only to shrug them off like a coat in the morning in favor of his Alchemist coat 

- This all being said, getting close to him is more on the difficult side. Unless you are willing to pull a little more work than him and frequently check in, he simply wouldn't know how to act. He does his best where he sees he can, though. He isn’t emotionless, just a bit clueless.

 - He would gladly help you, and guide you in the field of Alchemy in case you are curious about it, although he would much rather point you in the direction of a "starter mentor" first, before he offers himself as a mentor. It's not that he's underestimating you, but he feels as if giving you a good, solid start with a teacher of an "average" Alchemist would be a much easier way into the field of alchemy. In a way, you could say he’s underestimating himself in handing you the knowledge he has in a way you’ll understand. 

- Klee is one person he feels most close to. Sucrose is a capable lady, smart and close to Albedo, but Klee is someone who simply touches Albedo's heart in more ways than one. He wishes to keep her close and protect her, she feels familiar to him and gives him more sense of grounding to this world even if the responsibility of taking care of her wasn’t something he initially took on by choice

- That being mentioned he definitely has great patience with her, and slowly, even if she is not really able to understand, she is teaching him to feel

Romantic:

- Everyone knows the great Alchemist is also a great artist - everyone who has gazed upon his works would say so with 100 percent certainty paired with a couple more flattering words. Yet Albedo would shrug those compliments off and politely counter their words; a simple thank you does it

- He does not really see much of sentiment in those pieces of artwork as much as he does in the art he did of you

- Those are his favorite pieces. He loves to capture every detail of you whenever he can - the way your nose scrunches, the way your brow quirks, the way you lay down after a long day, the way the wind blows through your hair, the way your hands are after having them soaked in water for too long or when they’re cold..

- He is still quite reluctant about initiating contact, especially the physical one due to his lack of proper experience on the topic. Most information he has was read from books or heard from his fellow Knights, but none worth mentioning or trying in practice in interactions with you

- So it takes much, much for him to warm up to the ideas, you will have to initiate things slowly, so he can warm up to those touches initiated by you as well but he does his own part in reciprocating and returning those small affections

- The best ways of bonding together is babysitting Klee honestly; drawing, searching nature for anything of interest..etc. So that being said his love languages are quality time, after that it would be acts of service and after that words of affirmation. 

Ⓒ n0tamused. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

[lets-try-some-writing]

How would the TFP Bots feel about selective mutism/nonverbal episodes? Do they have their own form of it?

What about one of the kids going nonverbal?

I don't imagine they would be all that surprised, honestly. The bots have plenty of non-verbal means of communication, ranging from EM fields, to sign language, to internal comm links. Some bots don't have moving mouths. Others were damaged during the war. Mute or selectively silent characters aren't new or surprising in the slightest for them. They adapt and they adjust to each individual as needed. They are aliens meant to change and blend in after all.

With that said, if one of the kids went non-verbal, I also don't see the bots being all that torn up about it. They might not even recognize it as a sign of a potential issue and instead just roll with it at first. The team on Earth especially. They have lived with Bumblebee for quite a while after all.

In the event that Rafael chooses to go silent, for example, I simply cannot imagine anyone being all that concerned at first. Ratchet would continue on and accept the non-verbal cues without issue, at least until it clicked that 'oh, humans usually talk since they don't have fields'. THEN he might get concerned and start to ask questions. This goes for pretty much any member of the team. Acceptance, confusion, understanding, and right back to acceptance. They just need to confirm that the silence isn't due to anything wrong (at least in regards to injuries or mental state), then they would continue on.

If there is an actual issue, then that's a whole other can of worms involving metal giants trying their best to comfort small organic squishies who might splatter into paste if held too hard. But that aside, I do imagine that the bots learn sign language for those who need it, or barring that, adapt to become very observant when it comes to the kids if and when they go quiet. Most of the team I can see being wicked good at seeing the slightest sign of unspoken words and moving to respond and/or fulfill the quiet request.

[identitty-dickruption]

ooooh can you elaborate on how the concept of objectivity and truth are rooted in colonialism and imperial structures

I sure can!

okay so first thing to say is that everything I'm about to say has been said better and fancier by Linda Tuhiwai-Smith in her book Decolonising Methodologies. second thing to say is that I am from the school of interpretivism in political science (similar to constructivism in sociology), and we are constantly ridiculed for hating science. third thing to say is that I do not actually hate science

now for the big caveat: I respect science. it can have a lot to offer the world. as a disabled person, I fully understand that I would be dead without science and that science allows me to get cool surgeries etc etc

alright. now for my answer. it comes to you in three parts, because there is a lot of explaining I have to do before I can really get to the root of the matter

'objectivity' is meaningless

the first thing you have to understand is that nothing is free from human interpretation. we understand the world through the language we have for various phenomena that we might view internally or externally from ourselves. the classic example of this is colour, right? colour is 'real', in the sense that there are different light wavelengths that interact with our eyes in certain ways. but it's also 'not real', in that every person on the planet has a different definition of what counts under each colour category. my blue is not your blue. this gets more complex when you consider that some languages have a higher or lower number of colour words than others

if things are that complex when it comes to something like colour, you can bet it gets a lot worse when you're talking about topics that are even more complicated and politically contentious. this is where science comes in

what counts as 'knowledge'?

what is 'scientific'?

what does it mean for something to be 'true'?

there are no objective answers to any of these questions. and I don't think that's a bad thing. the issue here is the insistence that, with enough time and energy, objectivity can be achieved and everything will eventually be able to be Known

enforcing objectivity is oppressive

the illusion of objectivity is a tool to cover up underlying ideologies at the root of scientific institutions. here's the logic we're all taught

if something is objective, that means it is inarguably true

if something is true, that means it is apolitical

if something is apolitical, acting upon that information is neutral and harmless

in these discussions, people often bring up certain parts of scientific study as if they are things of the past. "people used to think race science was the objective truth!" bitch, they still do. "science was once used to justify eugenics" bitch, it still is. when 'objectivity' is treated as the opposite of 'political', powerful institutions are able to justify their pre-existing political commitments through the lens of 'science'. that does not mean that there are no possible truths at the heart of what they are studying. BUT all truth is seen through the lens of human interpretation, and all human interpretation is through the lens of culturally and politically contingent factors

"scientists may have isolated the gay gene" is not a politically neutral statement. it is a statement that expresses the following beliefs:

being gay is deviant from normal human development

the distinction between 'gay' and 'not gay' is 100% natural, as opposed to a specific way some humans have chosen to organise categories of sexual attraction

once a scientific cause is found for homosexuality, it would be possible (and possibly good!) to then eradicate homosexuality in part or in full

genetics is an interesting one, because the entire establishment of it as a field of study is rooted in eugenics. I refer back to race science. I refer back to the on-going fixation with breaking down race into genetically identifiable categories. anyone who has ever done a 23&me genetic test for racial identification purposes has, to some degree, bought into the concept of race science and the concept of race as an objective truth. when we believe that race is a scientific phenomenon rather than a cultural/social one, we also believe the lies of white supremacy

I also urge you to ponder: isn't it such a wonderful coincidence that the centre of all objectively true knowledge production just coincidentally happened to be Europe? weren't the European peoples so so blessed when the lord handed them down the concept of the scientific method? <- not saying the scientific method is bullshit, but I do encourage you to think about what ideologies these narratives reinforce

objective science was a tool of colonialism, and continues to act as such

the various ways we imagine different First Nations people around the world is often in relation to their position in knowledge production. think about the noble savage, who is untouched by the horrors of 'humanity', and yet has access to some secret mystical knowledges. think also about the role of the white missionary, who beneficently brings knowledge and truth to the unaware colonised peoples

'The Academy', as a colonial institution, acted (and continues to act) as the white missionary. they bring colonised peoples the gift of Truth, as if those peoples had never encountered knowledge or knowledge production before. when a Proper Scientist discovers that a particular group of First Nations people had their own scientific methods, it is always reported back to the white world in a surprised + condescending tone. look! it turns out that Australian First Nations art isn't meaningless and it actually tends to be a tool of passing down knowledge in these communities! isn't that so beautiful for them! even as First Nations knowledges are starting to be introduced in university settings, they are introduced from the viewpoint of white knowledge

because we hold up objective science as the One True Goal Of All Knowledge, we are unable to put multiple sciences side-by-side, and see them as equal bases for knowledge production. instead, we continue to try and find white reasons for First Nations truths. because we pretend that it is possible to see Truth without first seeing our own interpretations of truth, we enforce and reinforce colonial knowledges. these issues cannot be encountered properly if we refuse to see science itself as contestable

okay I'm done now

yeah that's kind of the best way I could think of to explain it all. I am so sorry that it ended up so long, and that I meandered in so many different directions. I hope it all makes sense :)

[heartflt]

"hey, you caught me. figured i could even the playing field with a trick question or two about your snack preferences." banter always comes easily to harrison, in part because it's how he copes, but the smile that follows his playfulness feels especially light as he looks over at jack. the unspoken part: jack feels light years out of his league in every possible way. there's probably some joke to be said about conspiring with someone if you want to win them over, but he keeps it to himself. "for the record, your answer sounds a little bit like cheating, but i'll let it slide," he comments, glancing briefly at their surroundings. no one else on the street pays them any attention, proof that they're successfully blending in. "easy: cotton candy. eating a caramel apple on a first date sounds pretty embarrassing. and who doesn't love pure sugar?"

it was shocking how open harrison was to dating. in their new reality, they had no real idea what tomorrow held. she’d love to explore the shitty little town they landed in. they were well hidden enough that people wouldn’t recognize them. as long as they laid low and followed the rules, things would be fine. jack loved how casual their exchange felt. the moment harrison’s hand touched hers, she was able to relax a little. on their way to the door, she snagged their room key and a jacket. “is this a trick question?” with her hand in his, jack shut the door behind them as they walked into the cool night air together. “it depends. if i’m at a carnival specifically, i’ll have carmel corn. but if we went to the movies, it’d have to be regular.” jack continued walking across the parking lot, looking up at him as she spoke. “my turn. caramel apples or cotton candy?”

[starry-bi-sky]

Blood Blossom Au: Baby's First Commissioner Meeting :)

TL:DR This Post: Danny (orphan) gets poisoned with blood blossom extract by Vlad. He runs away from him and ends up under the care of one Pre-Robin Battinson Batman! Starry is loudly pushing her batdad agenda.

(Also known as "Late At Night, When The Nightingale Sings" on my ao3!)

This was a fun rough idea I've been sitting on for weeks, thinking about how Commissioner Gordon and Nightingale's first meeting might go.

---------------

Commissioner Gordon likes to think that he's adjusting to the new normal of Gotham very well, -- the new normal being grown men running around dressed like bats, in military-grade strength body armor, committing acts of vigilantism, -- and slowly, little by little, he was no longer being surprised when this new normal pops up out of the shadows like the world's most terrifying daisy. His shaving lifespan thanks him for it.

....

The kid is a surprise though.

Granted, he seemed to be a surprise to the Bat too.

There's been a string of murders lately, -- which, in Gotham, is kind of like saying there's been another storm during monsoon season. And there's just been another; in some dilapidated building down in south Gotham, with the broken, boarded-up windows and mildew-crawling walls to match. The victim is a man in his thirties, multiple gunshot wounds to the chest, left in the center of the room for the blood to pool out around him.

The place is already secured when he arrives, the building swarmed with officers and the forensic detectives. The Bat emerges shortly after he does -- or, he might've been here the whole time, hiding someplace dark and shadowy. For his own sanity, Gordon doesn't think about it too hard.

The kid is a surprise, and he appears like a bolt of lightning.

He shows up in the middle of a conversation Gordon is having with the Bat.

A whistle, sharp and loud, slicing through the air, meant for open air rather than a confined space. Gordon's ears pierce and protest the sound, and the solemn, murmured chatter floating through the room abruptly cuts off like the swing of a gavel. As he turns towards the sound -- as they all do -- he swears, up and down, that he sees Batman's shoulders jump, just slightly.

At the source, perched on the window, is a boy. A boy in a gray-blue scarf and an oversized black hoodie, one that hangs off his frame and has ace bandages wrapped around the wrists in some attempt to cinch the sleeves. The hood is up, big like the rest of it, and threatens to swallow the upper half of the boy's face whole in the fabric. What upper half Gordon can see, is smeared with some kind of opaque, black face paint. He's holding onto the side of the frame with one hand, on his hip is a grappling hook. A familiar grappling hook.

Gordon has multiple questions, and his officers tense up.

Martinez puffs up, brows furrowing as his face shapes into a frown. Shoulders rolling back. "You can't be here, kid--"

The reaction is immediate, like a spark to gunpowder, the boy yanks his fingers from his mouth and his mouth twists into a scowl. Head snapping over to Officer Martinez, his hood manages to stay on but Gordon swears that as he bares his teeth, the glint makes them look sharper than they should be. His voice is rasp and quiet and harsh; snappish in its hissing; "Put a fuckin sock in it, Martinez. I'm not stayin."

Martinez reels back, and the boy immediately veers his attention off him. Like a switch, his demeanor drops. Despite half his face being covered, his mouth twists into a cringing, apologetic smile. Slanted and off-beat, embarrassed. It'd be disarming if this wasn't Gotham, and if he didn't just hiss at Martinez like he was about to bite his head off.

"Sorry." He whispers, voice deceptively polite and softer now. Gordon has to strain his ears to hear him. "I was looking for him."

He points his finger towards-- Gordon? No, Gordon follows the direction, and finds himself looking at -- the Bat.

The Bat, who always looks stiff as a pole, now looks even stiffer. Somehow. Well, the explains the grappling hook attached to the boy's waist.

"What are you doing here?" The Bat says, gruff and unable to completely smother the stumble of surprise in his tone.

The boy still holds a sheepish smile, and slips off the window ledge. His feet hit the creaky boards with a near-silent thud, the Batman finds his feet and rapidly begins crossing the room.

Gordon notes the slight tremble in the boy's legs as he straightens. He adjusts his scarf, which droops close to his knees now that he's standing, and slings a backpack -- how long has had that? -- off his shoulders. When the Bat reaches his side, he does as he always does, and looms over the boy like a spectre. A threatening mass of shadows cloaked in all-consuming black. Standing next to him, the boy looks teeny in comparison.

The Bat is a man who terrifies even the most hardened criminals, Gordon has seen grown men shiver in fear at the mention of his name. And yet when the boy looks up at him, he doesn't even flinch.

Instead, his sheepish smile melts away like ice under the sun, holding only traces of his previous embarrassment. It remains as a shadow on his face, a small upturn at the corners of his mouth. The boy pushes his hood back just enough to reveal glinting, ice-flint eyes surrounded in tar-black face paint. He holds the backpack up with one arm. "You forgot this."

[mugwot]

rotating this crossover in my brain. again. i am not gonna say that the kitty is unlucky Because it is a black cat But. it sure is in situations often. lower are vague end-game Ghost Trick spoilers, go play the game! (or you know, watch a lets play) its short and sweet and has a good resent remaster for pc.

my current thought is that sissel got lost on a road trip? maybe fell through a portal? and is kinda stuck in the middle of nowhere usa. Shenanigans ensue. that happens when you have an increadibly powerful energy source stuck in a kinda defenceless body (not counting the time powers. which i am sure clockwork has nothing to say about and danny specifically doesnt have any negative experience with.)

[laughingpinecone]

KIM KITSURAGI - "Nice shoes, by the way. I like the green. Goes with the orange." He looks at your snakeskin shoes and smiles, suddenly.

[lorablackmane]

It's time for ghosts y'all!! I wanted to make this post once I finished a chapter or 2 of my AU's fic, but I've talked about these lil fuckers so much w/ Teal in the past month I figured it might be best to make a post b4 that so ppl aren't confused in the future.

The premise of this AU is after the night after the King is defeated, everyone is celebrating! ...Until odd things start to appear in the House. A giant bloodsplatter in the Death Corridor and a trail of blood leading from it to the King's room. A shattered shelf and knocked over pot missing it's contents in the kitchen. A frozen body near the storage room.

One by one, ghosts created from the breaking points of Siffrin's wish start to appear, and they're here to stay! For better... or for worse.

Below is how each ghost was made, their wishcraft's scent (I put too much thought into this info so I'm adding it), and a bit about them!

(Cw for the ghost's stories below: death, suicide, allergy attack)

The Stoned - Created in Act 1 - Smells like Copper and Sugar

(This one will get a proper ref later bc this doesn't fully capture him)

Despite their looks, The Stoned is the calmest out of all of them, even though their death was one of the most painful. It happened so quickly and also messed up enough that the Wishcraft couldn't fix most of their body after the boulder disappears... so he can't feel pain anymore. He can't really feel much honestly there's... there isn't many nerves to feel with anymore. The additional lack of bones is a detriment to their ability to move, making them have to crawl around and continuously shift so they won't lose their balance until they get items like crutches and a wheelchair to help.

The Stoned doesn't know the horrors of the House and so are innocent in a way even Bonnie isn't. They never even it made it to the second half of the first floor! So a lot of the things the others talk about fly over their head. The others don't leave them out of talks about the House though! ...Not that the Stoned... really speaks - but it's the thought that counts!! They have their buddy to speak for them, anyway.

Just like how Loop's Wishcraft made their body unique, each ghost has their own lil quirk due to the Wishcraft that powers their bodies. The Stoned has the oddest one: due to their lack of most their bones their body is almost completely powered by Wishcraft that is activated by the air he breathes in. Because of this, he can actually almost flatten himself by releasing all the air inside themself, and will stay that way until he breathes back in. He can't move like that, but it does sometimes come in handy - by releasing some instead of all the air they can make themself slightly more compact to get into tight places!

The Silent - Created in Act 2 - Smells like Saltwater Taffy

The Silent is a fearful one, they remember the pain the House offers but cannot feel it. They only truly remember up to Bonnie accidentally pushing them, however they know so much more. Each time Siffrin touched a tear he gave them the memories of that run, but to the Silent it was less like a memory and more like watching a play. Detached from themself... yet the fear is there. They aren't like Stone who only remembers his death, they know the blessing was a curse wrapped in a pretty bow and the thought that what they see is only a fragment of the loops Siffrin went through... it makes them retreat into themself, especially bc they see their existence as unneeded bc well... Siffrin already exists. They don't need another to bother them.

It's much easier to stay put, to let them become one with the House as the tears intended. They don't need to breathe, to eat, or anything really so it's quite easy for them to do so! For them to just... exist. Hiding in plain sight, like the books hidden on shelves of the House written in their mother tongue. So this is where they stay, until one day maybe people can hear them speak once more. They do occasionally move, mostly when they hear that the Housemaiden's need the area they're in, but only when they're certain no one is looking.

When it comes to fight, flight, or freeze they choose freeze every time... which isn't helped by the quirk of their body's Wishcraft. The Silent can freeze anything up to the size of a medium bowl if they hold it for long enough. The Unseen will sometimes use this to pull pranks on people who upset them, stealing their umbrellas and placing them in The Silent's hold. They find this very petty... but they don't like moving bc a Housemaiden might see them and it is funny so they don't stop the two from doing so.

The Unseen(Left) - Created in Act 3 - Smells like Candied Pineapples

The left one is similar in personality to the Stoned as when they were created Siffrin knews that something was wrong, but still had hope that things were okay. They are an odd one: they see their accidental death as nothing in the grand scheme of things considering how many deaths already happened before them. If anything, he sees his death as a vital piece of showing their love to their family oddly enough! His memory is spotty, but the answer to Bonnie's question is forever engraved upon their skin so none of them will ever forget (even if most cannot see them anymore except outta the corner of their eye). There is a great sorrow in them though, after meeting their counterpart and discovering that there was so much pain afterwards - that like them this fact is engraved into their counterpart... but they'll stay with them, and maybe... they can bring some joy back to the right.

They help keep their counterpart's pranks in check, as unlike the right left remembers how fragile people are and doesn't see them as actors or dolls. Most of the pranks they plan are leaving lil letters with terrible puns around the House. Like you go into the bathroom, there's a letter tied to the handle of the sink. You open it and it says something like, "water you doin, handsome?" Stupid stuff like that, that makes them feel like the funnyjokespunperson they were before everything. A way to reclaim what the loops took from them both.

The Lonely - Created in Act 3 - Smells of Sugar and Moldy Cloth

This ghost is the culmination of so, so many fragments Siffrin left in between those walls. For a long time they did not remember anything besides the motions to get to the King, yet they could never defeat him. They couldn't survive his major attack, no matter what they did. It feels like at one point he could though... wasn't there a way? It isn't until the ghost event that they remember what they lost and while it felt absolute euphoria in that moment, after that the loneliness became soul crushing. The hunger for someone, anyone to be with them hurt so much! ...It made them remember why they forgot their family the first time.

The Lonely's quirk unlike most of the others isn't seared on their skin. No, the Lonely's ability is actually only really useful for dealing with The Unseen - anytime one of the others is in danger or about to do something dangerous they sense it. The Vengeful is constantly ringing this mental alarm, but it can't do anything to help due to it constantly moving so they don't even try with them. The Unseen though, it is often seen dragging them by the ears before they do something like unleash a barrel full of marbles in a hallway.

The Vengeful - Created in Act 4 - Smells of Steel, Salt, and Sugar

It is the culmination of the King's cruelty and Siffrin's agony, a beast made of anger, pain, and sorrow in equal measures. It hates the King both bc Siffrin did and bc it sees him at fault for it's creation as it doesn't know of Wishcraft as it was created right on the line between 3 and 4. That is why it tore his right hand off and stole the gauntlet upon it - a punishment for the action that created it and a trophy for it to wear as proof that, even after such a horrid deed, he didn't win. It runs away from the House and it's former family because of this memory - it cannot confront the people it feels it failed even with the knowledge they survived, that it's sin wasn't permanent. In it's eyes it will always exist. It's eye will sometimes gleam with the same shade as the one that appeared when the world was breaking!

The Vengeful is the only ghost no one is completely sure the location of due to it throwing itself out of the first available window after completing it's mission. It mostly stays in forests or caverns where it can easily hide, only going near towns if someone reminds it of the King. Once it has dealt with said person however it views it needs to, mostly by scaring them, it returns to it's current hiding spot. The Vengeful is a lonely one, but it's not ready to be near people for long periods of time. It's afraid that due to how it was created it'll bring bad luck to those it spends too much time with - how couldn't it? It was created from a person trapped in the middle of an hourglass until they drowned in the golden sands and by a man who saw his will as absolute, who caused so much agony. One day, though, it'll realize that isn't true... but it'll be quite a while.

The Unseen(Right) - Created in Act 4 - Smells like Steel and Sugar

This one is the closest in personality to Loop. It mocks even though it has no voice, they play with the people around it to remind themself they're real. Without the left the right Unseen would be much more dangerous as it is so desensitized to death they have forgotten what is actually dangerous and so some of their mischief has to be tempered by the left one to avoid killing those around them. For a very long time they view others, besides left, as merely actors in a similar vein as Loop, only referring to others via titles if it needs to interact with anyone and left doesn't control the writing pen. As time passes this trait slowly disappears, as the days show more changes like rain upon the rooftops or snow in the gardens, things it long forgot.

Together with their counterpart The Unseen are the ones who were left behind through actions seen as small, but were greater than thought. The ones who cannot be seen without drastically changing the views of ones most loved by the person they once were. And so they stay hidden from sight by their own Wishcraft... but that is a lonely way to live they discovered. The two of them alone cannot satiate their need 4 company. And so they do little things that are easily noticed so they can be seen without breaking their rule: walking around with open, stolen umbrellas or pulling little pranks.

Most Housemaiden's don't talk to them, because they never get an answer they assume they don't like talking. This isn't the case though they cannot tell them that... neither can speak. The left's throat is closed up and the right's is... well u can probably guess why theirs wouldn't work even if they had a mouth to speak with. The Lonely though does speak to them often - it has a chalkboard in the room it lives in inside the House for them to write lil questions or answers on.

[specialagentartemis]

pro tip though: asking tour interpreters at a historical museum about ghosts is, 9 times out of 10, a fantastic way to get them to dislike you

[chaos-in-one]

Oh my god my fellow psych majors need to pull their heads out of their asses

Being a psych major is not the same as being a professional in the psych field. You are still studying to be one, you do not have your degree yet.

Being a psych major does not mean you know as much as, let alone better than, the actual professionals.

Being a psych major does not mean you are a specialist who is an authority on any specific disorder. Hell, having a degree does not even mean that. Unless you are an actual specialist, you do not know better than the people who specialize in that disorder.

Being a psych major does not make you an authority on what people have going on in their brains. You are not a professional yet.

Being a psych major does not mean you are automatically right on anything psychology related. There is a reason you do not have a degree yet.

Psych majors cannot determine who has what disorders. You are not licensed to make a diagnosis, because you are still a student, not a professional.

You cannot know what is going on in a strangers brain just because you major in psych. Even licensed professionals cannot do that. No matter how long they studied, or have been working in psych. There is a reason the diagnostic process for most disorders takes so long. So you, as someone who does not even have a degree yet, definitely cannot make that call where professionals cannot.

And, most importantly, being a psych major does NOT give you a free pass to be an asshole to mentally ill people. In fact, the opposite, really. People like them are the exact type of person you will be treating once you get your degree. Mentally ill people like that entrust psych professionals with their wellbeing. If you cannot be decent to mentally ill people that you do not even know, you should not be treating their mental health.