#the structures here are not THAT different

[jeanjauthor]

They may not have had a choice.

King County (the county containing Seattle, Washington, here in the USA) has some VERY STRICT guidelines for building new churches. Most newer church congregations find it far cheaper and easier to just rent & renovate an existing store in a strip mall, and if they get big enough, a box store like the one above.

And of course, King County isn't the only region-governing body to decide to be strict when it comes to building new churches. City ordinances across the US can also be quite restrictive. But honestly, it makes sense in the short to medium term. These buildings are not being used as stores anymore. They're just empty structures cluttering up the landscape. A lot of the bigger stores have switched heavily toward an online retail model and need less physical space. The "mini mall" construction boom of the 1990s has slowed down.

New construction is far more expensive than simply renting. With renting, you can keep your congregation going while saving up the money for that new construction. And as for churches that already have, well, established churches (the buildings)...many of them actually share their facilities with other denominations.

My mother's church, which is a bit of a sprawl of different building wings that's been added onto over the decades, has 3 different religious groups on top of her own (Methodists, the founding group). This includes Seventh Day Adventists (church on Saturday), Anglicans (holding services on Sunday at a slightly different time in the old church sanctuary while the Methodists use the new/modern one), and a Muslim community (services held on Friday in the community hall beneath the old sanctuary, where there aren't any seats set up; plenty of room for prayer mats that way).

Each one of these groups is not super-large, but at one time the Methodists had a big enough congregation to need to expand, but they still needed to conduct services, so they just kept the old sanctuary hall while building the new one more or less right next to it...and since the old building was merely small, not in bad condition, they kept it in place and started renting it out to other groups once they moved their congregation into the new hall.

For the other groups, it was far easier to just rent space in a facility that was already set up for worship services. And since my mother's church aren't jerks (they're a little conservative about some things, but they aren't bigots or sanctimonious by any means), they are perfectly fine with Islam services taking place within their facilities. It's a holy space, and both are Abrahamic religions; Islam acknowledges Christ as one of its great prophets, and that's 85% of everything right there. Plus, this decision to rent to Muslims was made back during the 9/11 era, when Muslims were being persecuted just for existing. Putting their mosque services inside of a clearly Christian church helped protect them from being attacked, and that was--and still is--A Very Good Thing To Do.

Frankly, with just that box store appearance alone to go on (I don't know what LCBC stands for), I would NOT have pegged it for a church of any kind. That could be serving as a sort of protective camouflage. It could be simply renting a building that already exists--a building that used to be a Pizza Hut or an IHOP will always look like a Pizza Hut or an IHOP, as they say. And they could be planning for the possibility of their congregation dwindling enough to the point where they might have to downsize their congregation...and don't want to try to sell a "lame duck" building that obviously looks like a church to...well, a group that isn't a church.

It's like how many new houses these days are made bland and boring in their construction, coloring, & details "so as not to hurt its resale value," as opposed to building a house meant to last for several generations in one family.

maybe it's because i was raised catholic but churches shouldn't look like furniture stores

[thecoiledserpent]

↻ ROMANTIC PARTNERS' APPEARANCE FROM YOUR CHART

basics of vedic astrology. ask box. masterlist.

while there exist many peculiarities and details that may be considered for analysing one's partner, i will be sticking to a certain method here to avoid overcomplicating things. note that i consider more factors when we talk about spouse explicitly, but consider this to be representative of both spouse and other partners.

for those seeking a female partner- check your venus

for those seeking a male partner- check your mars

i use this as a general rule but i haven't had the chance to check this for lesbians / gay / trans people etc so i would recommend following the same rule, unless you have a solid reason not to.

note that for skin colours, undertones and shades, general heights etc, always consider what is considered the norm in your family or bloodline. like for most english people, white skin tone is the norm so when we say 'light skinned', we mean a milky, snow like complexion. when we say 'dark skinned', we mean a tanned complexion. don't go by country, go by what is the norm in your own family or a certain race / nationality that your partner could be most likely from.

MARS / VENUS THROUGH THE SIGNS

MARS / VENUS IN ARIES — the partner's skin is light, and sensitive to strong sunlight. their skin would easily develop a reddish tint in sunlight, and they would have a strong skull with scars present on their upper body. they would be average in height, and walk in long strides. they could have small ears, or small hands. they would be sensitive to the partner's emotional needs and try to cater to it, but are naturally inclined to stubbornness and anger.

MARS / VENUS IN TAURUS — the partner's skin is an earthly, warm shade of brown. it seems to resemble earthly tones and has a fresh touch to it. their face is square in shape, and symmetric; their face is aesthetically pleasing in terms of symmetry and overall body composition. everything appears to be in proportion, and their height may be from short to medium. they could have a love for food and be attracted to luxurious resting places. they would be stubborn, and it would be difficult to convince them. they don't change themselves for others.

MARS / VENUS IN GEMINI — the partner's skin appears to be sun-kissed, as though they are standing in the sun at all times. due to this they may appear to 'wilt' in extremely modernised or rigid surroundings; it doesn't sit with their composition. tanned, naturally warm skin with a tendency towards walking or talking quick. they would be medium to averagely tall in height. they could have a protruding face. they would be extremely unstable in terms of decision making and go from being the wisest saint to the most stubborn person you have ever seen. they are also professional yappers.

MARS / VENUS IN CANCER — the partner's skin would be fair, and their face structure would resemble the moon. either in shape or in marks; beautifully marked. they could have acne, or freckles. they would be short in height and have a disposition towards shyness. they could either be mentally weak or extremely strong, no middle point. they could even be manipulative at times. they would dislike rigidity is structure and would be adjusting in nature themselves to ensure others feel at home. marital bliss can be restricted for female partner seeking natives.

MARS / VENUS IN LEO — their skin could have a glowing look. note the minor difference between gemini and leo, gemini appears to be shining under the sun so artificial environments filled with white lights takes away their shine. leo, on the other hand, is the shine itself so it shines even under scrutiny and artificiality. nothing stops them, and nothing tops them. stubborn people and unwilling to change their ways, even at others' expense. they are medium in height and enjoy bed pleasures. they adore being adored, and are in love with loving.

MARS / VENUS IN VIRGO —— they have warm and naturally soft skin, slightly tanned and on the brownish side. they are usually on the taller side and the female partner is usually rather finicky. they could be extremely detail oriented and unwilling to change their decisions. however they are emotionally perceptive, so if you give them enough reasons, they might adjust with you. they are rather complex with emotions too, and can have a tendency to unintentionally hurt others with their critical nature which stems from their self hurt and extends outwardly.

MARS / VENUS IN LIBRA — the partner's skin tone is dark, but it has a burnt shade to it. like imagine those warm brown shades that make you feel all fuzzy inside. they are quite tall in height and have a certain striking beauty mark or distinct feature about them. perhaps a beauty mark placed perfectly, or symmetric lips, a well tipped and high rise nose, beautiful hands etc. it usually does not influence the hair, eyes, ears and bust. most men having this placement have wives with an hourglass proportion or wider hips. they would have an agreeable personality and be of sacrificing nature for the general good.

MARS / VENUS IN SCORPIO — the partner's skin tone is light, but with a muddy undertone to it. they have an average height and strong shoulders. some sort of scar or mark on the body is present, which may include stretch marks or growth marks as well. they could be unwilling to give up and be extremely stubborn. but don't push them too much, or else they might end up emotionally isolating themselves. they would be lean, and problematic around elders at times.

MARS / VENUS IN SAGITTARIUS — the partner's skin tone is light too, but with deep brown undertones. they could have oily skin, and facial hair in case of a male partner. they are tall in height, and are of dual nature. they keep diverting their opinion about whether or not they wish to change; switching as they will between liberal in the relationship and bring preachy about how the partner should be. they would, regardless, have a certain glow that self assurance and knowledge brings in a person. this is a good placement to have.

MARS / VENUS IN CAPRICORN— the partner's skin tone is muddy brown, and may appear to be blemished in a quiet way. like er, think about skin that has those small dot things which aren't really acne, but not really negligible either. they are on the taller side, and may have hooded eyes with bags under them, the skin there might be bluish or veins might show, but they are quite good looking regardless. seriously overworked, or may have sleeping issues. they are adjusting and caring by nature, but they could be lazy and sullen.

MARS / VENUS IN AQUARIUS — the partner has muddy brownish red skin which accumulates dust quickly. they are quite tall, and of an eccentric style. this is not limited to funky colours; anything that goes against norm and gives them the excitement to be rebellious. like kawaii, punk or goth styles, glitter makeups, or just anything that isn't common in their culture. like in conserved societies like india, even wearing revealing dresses is rebellious. but in more open societies, well it takes more than a revealing dress for a scandal. so apply that as you will. again, the partner will be rigid in their ways and may not see the problem with their approach to life.

MARS / VENUS IN PISCES — the partner's skin tone is fair in the upper portion of the body and grows darker as you move downwards. they have well formed feet, and with strong legs. they appear short when they put on weight and tall when they lose it. their face is narrow at the start and beautifully formed. they are of dual nature and indecisive, often not able to decide how they are supposed to approach matters that inconvenience them but are uncomfortable to speak of.

MARS / VENUS RECEIVING ASPECTS FROM PLANETS

SUN— they could have gallbladder disease. the influence of sun makes them such that they draw others' attention, but it is dependent on their own nature whether or not they are able to retain it. they could have beautiful round eyes that easily entrance others.

MOON— they would be fond of travelling. they could be night owls, due to which they may have eyebags. they could have clear skin, or a pleasant face.

MARS (for venus only) — they could have strong, well built arms and shoulders. they could be built like a bull, or be physically active. this aspect can also lead to fights.

MERCURY— they could have foxy features like a tipped nose, small ears, quickly moving eyes etc.

VENUS— they could have symmetric facial features and have a conventionally attractive physique. people would be easily attracted to them.

JUPITER— they could have a fleshy waist or even a potbelly, not that it's a bad thing. they could have thin hair, or poor hair quality. they could neglect their physical appearance at times.

SATURN— they could have a bluish tinge under the eyes and appear exhausted most of the times. they could be extremely beautiful too, or just be sullen and lazy. that is, if saturn lets you marry at all.

KETU— they could have some sort of beauty cut. like around the eyebrows, or lips etc. it could be natural, or even done by themselves for aesthetic value.

RAHU— they could have moles or beauty marks. they could have seductive or sultry eyes and be of calm disposition, which is mostly a façade.

ॐ नमो भगवते वासुदेवाय नमः

[connorsui]

“I trust you…I promise you that I trust you, and nothing will come in the way of that…but you can’t tell me this isn’t ridiculous, right?”

You stand in the middle of your snowy driveway, gazing with a mix of exasperation and amusement at Johnny and your twin sons as they create a battlefield out of the morning’s snowfall-- Instead of the simple snowmen you might have imagined, the boys are busy crafting a fortress, with underground paths, tall mounds as shields, and small stockpiles of snowballs for their so called ... “ammunition.”

You’d pictured the morning so differently: hot chocolate by the fire, maybe a bit of decorating? or Johnny sharing tame, kid-friendly stories from his time in the service—with the casual violence out of the way. But instead, here you are, cup of coffee warming one hand, the other resting on your hip as you watch Johnny instruct the boys in how to "properly" make a shield.

“Ohh, c’mon, lovie,” Johnny calls out, dusting the snow from his gloves with a playful shake of his head, “Let the lads enjoy themselves a bit, eh?” He straightens up, strides over to you, and presses a kiss to your cheek. The cold on his lips contrasts sharply with the warmth of his smile, and you feel yourself smiling back, twirling your coffee idly in the mug.

Johnny steps behind you, wrapping his arms securely around your waist, resting his chin atop your head. “I meant it when I said I wanted to spend every second with the boys,” he murmurs softly. “Been too long without ‘em, you know?”

“Oh, I know you said that,” you chuckle, a warm puff of air slipping into the crisp winter morning. “Don’t think I forgot so quickly... But taking on our boys in an early morning little war wasn’t exactly what I had in mind when you promised ‘quality time,’ Johnny.”

He laughs, his deep chuckle vibrating against you. But before he can reply, one of the twins rushes over, his cheeks flushed with excitement, snowflakes clinging to his coat.

“Mum! Mummy! Look! We did it!” He points eagerly to their snow fortress, an impressive structure for something built by two kids and their overly enthusiastic dad.

The other twin, standing guard behind a snowy barricade, grins mischievously before launching a snowball toward his brother. It narrowly misses, skimming past you, and you instinctively step back, laughing as you bump into Johnny’s chest.

“Oi! Careful with yer aim,” Johnny calls out, unable to hide the pride in his voice. He lets you go and grins at the boys. “Ye want to join me inside for a while, love?” he asks, lowering his voice, a playful warmth in his tone. “I’ll make you somethin’ nice, your favorite.”

“Hmmm,” you hum in mock consideration, pretending to think it over. Finally, you give a quick nod, and the two of you make your way back to the kitchen, where you begin preparing a warm breakfast for the boys. The house feels cozy, the warmth from the stove and the sound of laughter just outside filling it with a sense of peace that feels almost too perfect to be real.

As you look out the kitchen window, you see the twins giggling, a flurry of snowballs passing between them. One boy dives behind a mound, trying to evade the other’s shot, only to trip and collapse in a heap of laughter and snow. You watch, smiling to yourself, feeling that rare, unfiltered happiness that fills every corner of your heart.

“What’re ye thinkin’, hmm?” Johnny asks, catching the look on your face as he leans against the counter, his gaze soft.

You blink, as if just waking from a daydream. “What? Nothing… Just happy, is all.”

Johnny raises an eyebrow, the hint of a smile playing on his lips. “Sure about that?”

“What makes you think I’m not?”

“Oh, nothin’,” he teases, feigning innocence. “Just wonderin’.”

You lean back against the counter, eyes drifting again to the scene outside. “This is everything I could’ve ever wanted with you, Johnny. I remember imagining this life with you back then, maybe one little one in tow… but now, with two boys, and you… it almost feels ...dream-like,... you know?”

He slides closer to you, his hand resting over yours. “No, darlin’. I don’t know,” he says softly, his eyes meeting yours with that familiar, grounded warmth. “Because this here? It’s all real. Me, the house, our boys… us.” He gestures around as if to make his point clear. “This is it. All of it’s real.”

A smile spreads across your face as you meet his gaze, unable to hold back. Leaning up, you place a soft kiss on his lips, savoring the moment, the crisp air still lingering on his skin.

“And ye know what else could be real right about now?” he murmurs, a glint of mischief in his eye.

“Oh, and what would that be?”

“Leaving the kids with yer mum while we take apart that new lovely present you left out for me.”

You gasp, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks. “Johnny! Don’t tell me you’ve already seen it?”

He smirks, tapping the side of his head. “Oh, don’t think I didn’t spot it, all prettily wrapped with a bow.”

Lowering your voice, you whisper, “That was for later!”

“How much later?” he teases, a mischievous sparkle in his eye that sends your pulse racing.

You glance away, hiding a grin, cheeks warm as you try to suppress the smile tugging at your lips.

Johnny lets out a laugh, his deep voice filling the cozy kitchen. But before you can respond, the boys come bounding in, their noses red from the cold, eyes wide with excitement.

“Mum! Mum! Can you make our favorite breakfast?” they ask in unison, looking up at you with hopeful smiles.

You sigh playfully, shaking off the blush that had crept up your neck, and nod. “Alright, alright. I’ll call you back when it’s ready!”

With twin shouts of “mmkay!” they scamper back outside, their laughter echoing through the yard as they dive back into their snowball war.

Johnny watches you, a familiar, mischievous smile still on his face. “Well?”

You tilt your head, chuckling, “I'll call her.."

A laugh escapes him, and he pulls you close, pressing a tender kiss to your cheek. As you continue with breakfast, he stays by your side, keeping an eye on the boys through the window. You realize that this—Johnny beside you, the kids laughing outside, the warmth of your home wrapping around you—is the happiest you’ve ever felt.

[jesawyer]

hi mr sawyer! i have a couple questions on the eoran languages

do the languages contain grammatical structures?

what are the different languages' real-world basises? for example, i recognize the influence of other celtic languages (i.e. alphabets) on some of the engwithan text here, but the language largely corresponds to irish.

thank you for your time!

Hello. While the Eoran conlangs don't have fully developed grammar, they do borrow elements from real world languages.

Eld Aedyran borrows vocabulary and grammar from Old English and Icelandic.

Glanfathan uses a lot of Cornish vocabulary, but also some Welsh and Irish.

Vailian is a blend of Italian, Occitan, and French but with inflected grammar.

Huana is dominantly Māori but with a few elements of Japanese.

Seki is based on Akkadian.

Engwithan is inspired by Gaulish.

[throesofincreasingwonder]

Actually OP's advice is very helpful, and I genuinely think it's worth considering. I get how it could be interpreted the way you describe, but I think it's a bad faith argument to say that OP is 'telling disable people to concede that they suck and are wrong all the time.' Instead, we could think of it more like an "I feel" statement. By reframing your apology as 'action → feeling → action' the way OP did, you take ownership of what you did while also helping the other person avoid triggering that response again. This is a lot more helpful than saying 'I have x, so y.'

They also aren't mutually exclusive! If you think that someone being aware of your specific issue would be helpful to you or them in the future, you can make them aware of that without just offloading your apology onto your disorder or disability.

To use the example above, you could easily reframe "Sorry I snapped when you and your friend spoke at the same time, I actually have sensory issues." as "Hey, sorry I snapped at you earlier. I have sensory issues, and when two people are talking to me at once I can get really overwhelmed, which sometimes makes it hard to regulate my feelings. I'm not mad at you, and I'll try to make you aware earlier or remove myself from the situation if I'm getting to that point of overwhelm in the future."

The latter makes for a better apology (the specific situation OP is trying to give advice about—sometimes you may not need to apologize, but this post is about when you feel the need to do so) for several reasons. Firstly, it gives a specific triggering action to the other person. You included this in the above example, which is great, but took it out of the revision ("I just hate the sound of your voice"). It's important to recognize that first revision is not including the technique OP is employing here.

Second, it takes ownership over your actions. There are obviously some symptoms of disability that you cannot control, and therefore should not need to apologize for (or at least apologize for in the same way as other actions). That mention of convulsing is a great example, because it's and involuntary physical response. You shouldn't apologize for convulsing unless it hurt the other person, because generally apologies cover actions you intend to do differently from here on out.

But there are other actions that you are responsible for, and that you need to take ownership over. Yelling at someone in OP's post is a great example; RSD may mean you can't control feeling of betrayed or hurt, but it doesn't make you yell at anyone. That is an action you have control over and can change in the future. You have every right to have that feeling but not to attack others, which is what the apology is for.

The reason OP's apology structure is more useful than just explaining symptoms is because it focuses directly on the action you're apologizing for. When you apologize only by telling someone your behavior is a result of your disability, it can make it hard for the other person to respond and shut down further conversation. An apology that focuses on actions instead sets clear expectations for both yourself and the other person going forward, and opens a dialogue about what you can both do to avoid that situation in the future.

Sick list of symptoms bro. Now try humanizing your behavior instead of pathologizing it.

[dogtoling]

General life- and blog update , since I assume at least a few people might have been wondering where I've been and what i've been up to recently. I obviously haven't been posting or drawing much this year in general. This will probably be an important post if you care about stuff on this blog, and I already rambled on Sheezy, but that site isn't very populated yet and it's also very good at hiding journals so let's just ramble again...

The summary of this post if you hate reading: I'm heavily considering just stepping away from Splatoon. That decision obviously would affect this blog (mostly, my OCs, which is kinda most of the blog at this point). I don't think the blog itself will go anywhere, and I'll probably use it for something in the future... alternatively i'll cherry pick stuff from here into an archive for people who like the worldbuilding.

Longer post under cut:

So what have I been up to this year? The answer is quite simple: NOTHING. Like, actually absolutely nothing. Aside from Art Fight, this has probably been one of my worst art output years of all time, which is really frustrating. That's between my horrendous mental health and depression chasms this year and a complete lack of both focus and inspiration (which can also get chalked down to the depression to a degree, yeah). So the very real reason to why there hasn't been much activity on this blog this year is because I just haven't Done Anything in general.

Now because I know there will be a few people who think "that's fine! you shouldn't judge yourself based on productivity!" you're right! I also agree. However the issue for me specifically is that most (if not all) the time I spend NOT drawing or creating, I spend sitting around wishing I could start drawing or creating, because that is like the 1 thing that keeps me sane on this freaking earth. Unfortunately coming up with OC scenarios in my head doesn't really result in output I can feel fulfilled by in any form as much as I wish it did, lol.

Now; The Issue. It doesn't take a genius to see that if you spend 9 months trying to finish like a dozen OC pages that you COULD do in a week or 2 if you wanted to, then there's probably more than just the problem of executive dysfunction (even though that's at least 60% of it for sure). Obviously my other major problem is that I live by imaginary rules and structures that make sense, but aren't actually useful at ALL in reality and are more than a hindrance if anything (the mental to do-list in my head that says i can't do X until I've done Y doesn't do very much if task Y takes 10 months and I also don't want to do it, and it also has no structured ending).

How does this tie into stepping away from Splatoon, you may ask. Well, the issue is that I have foreseeably fallen out of love with the series. Which isn't exactly news lol. Currently, I'm not even sure i will get the next game, if and when the time comes. Yes, the loss of interest is also expected, given that Splatoon 3 has ended and every fandom has this kind of downtime and lukewarm in-between-titles period. But the truth is that modern Splatoon (almost 10 years old!!!!) is tangibly different from the way the series was back when I fell in love with it. That was Splatoon 1, and while the series has improved in a lot of aspects and is thriving, it's grown in a direction that I just don't really like. Splatoon 3 had the most freaking horrendous, immersion breaking story mode they could've done, then they followed it up with a DLC story that was pretty cool but also compounded a lot of my fears about the series' future and played into every single thing i do not want Splatoon stories to be - fully character focused, random fucking villain, mundane event that's unrealistically world-threatening just because a kids video game needs a scary climax even though it's immersion breaking AGAIN, the whole thing taking place in cyberspace and thus offering basically no worldbuilding even though there is SO MUCH WORLD. I COULD GO ON.

The gist of it is that nowadays, rather than playing Splatoon and being inspired and excited at what comes next, I mostly find myself dreading what dumbass plot they will do next to throw a wrench in the otherwise good stuff. And when that's like THE main approach I have to what's supposed to be my favorite series, it is HARROWING. I can't even really blame the game for this; the story is NOT its selling point, the developers probably do their best to get the bits to us that they really want to tell, and at the end of the day the game is unfortunately a product. Worldbuilding for Splatoon is fun to a point. It's less fun when in order to actually write or create something coherent, instead of filling in the blanks, the blanks are 90% of the freaking thing. At that point you're just better off making something of your own instead of being anchored onto an IP that gives more problems than answers and occasionally shoots you with like a machine gun. Working in the realm of Splatoon is frustrating because more often than not, the questions I have ARE NOT MINE TO ANSWER, and the likelihood that the specific-ass questions I need answers to will ever be actually addressed is really low.

Tying this back to my OCs. Obviously I love my OCs more than I love myself which admittedly isn't that high of a bar but you get the point. The problem is that I spend a lot of time mulling over worldbuilding that, again, frankly isn't mine to do. Because if I want it to be Splatoon, then it should be mostly accurate to how Splatoon is! But the problem with that is that there's really not THAT MUCH worldbuilding in the series that you can work with, and most of the core game mechanics are just abstract enough that it's actually horrendous to try and come up with workarounds and ways for things to make sense that don't require just constructing a full knockoff version mirror dimension of the game and saying fuck everything that's in place here because Inkopolis Plaza literally has no roads in or out of there and I have no fucking idea how that's allowed when your only option is to jump the fence (or, nowadays, take the train which also isnt connected to a street as far as I remember). Between the face value issue and the lack of REALLY IMPORTANT worldbuilding, like - I will always come back to this - THE INK TANK'S FUNCTION 10 YEARS DOWN THE LINE - there's a goddamn ocean of plot holes and things that end up being obstacles to creativity rather than inspiration. I feel like I'm pretty solidly at the point (and have been for a while) where hanging onto Splatoon is really only contributing to creativity block and frustration with lack of freedom and the ability to actually do things.

So I guess those are my reasonings that I've put together just sitting here for the time being. The TL;DR is that I wish I could just do stuff without Splatoon's canon getting in the way, which is a really stupid problem to have if you're making Splatoon OCs. I feel this frustration extremely strongly every time I have to work with actual bigger aspects of the world; we still don't have an Inkopolis map, we don't know what the world around Inkopolis looks like, we don't know what the wilderness is like aside from Just Normal Forest and Desert and very few snippets as to what modern wildlife MIGHT be, I still don't know how the fuck the Inklings teleport to the goddamn arctic ocean to play a turf war at Shipshape Cargo co. These are all actually really important things if you're trying to establish a setting in any kind of storytelling that's outside of immediate city bounds (and even there, you need to know the layout of the city and its important areas). Also a fucking mutant bear and a baby salmon and a squid not wearing suitable gear went to space and fought on a rocket in space. These are some things that would give me peace of mind to not have to deal with in my own writing, probably.

So where do we go from here? Unsure. I haven't really made a decision on this front yet, though right now I'm leaning more towards actually going ahead with trying to do my own thing. That will result in obvious design and setting changes for my OCs whenever I get around to it. This blog probably won't go anywhere (again, unless I impulse delete it during a mood swing like i've almost done on like three separate occasions this year), but it will probably get less use, and I will probably end up making a new blog to post about whatever I end up doing once I get to a point where it feels like it makes sense. There's a chance that I will delete this blog and put all the interesting stuff on an archive blog for the people who are here just for the worldbuilding. My actual true passion for a long time now hasn't even been Splatoon anymore, it's just been cephalopods. I'm kind of done having Splatoon get in the way of the cephalopods, as thankful as I am that it introduced me to them...

If you read this to the end heres a treat for you = 🍪

[just-aake]

Everlasting Devotion - Part VIII

Pairing: princess!Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: Sequel of Boundless Devotion Series. MedievalAU. With her coronation over, Natasha is now the queen of the Romanov Kingdom. However, the position comes with challenges from both old and new enemies as Natasha tries to maintain the peace while also navigating her relationship with you.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

Warnings: light angst

Words: 4074

At a table in your library, your fingers glide across the worn page of Howard Stark’s journal. The entries detail his ambitious attempts to harness sorcery, each word penned with sharp, precise strokes.

There’s something striking in his handwriting—a tangible trace of the man himself, a stranger who might’ve been part of your life if circumstances had been different.

As you read, you can’t help but wonder about the person behind these words.

Would he have welcomed you into his world, inviting you to collaborate on these projects instead of leaving you alone in the shadow of constant disappointments and harsh judgments?

With a quiet sigh, you pull yourself from the wistful thoughts and back to the task, refocusing on the journal’s contents.

His latest endeavor—a complex project to encapsulate raw energy within a synthetic stone—was left unfinished, his last entry noting how close he’d come but ultimately failing to contain it.

Your gaze drifts to the attacker’s glove lying nearby, the once-bright stone in its center now faded to a dull sheen. 

Curiosity gets the better of you, and with delicate care, you pry the stone free, lifting it toward the sunlight streaming through the library window.

Sunlight filters through its transparent surface, revealing imperfections–tiny cracks spidering through its structure. 

As you study it intently, a sudden flash of memory grips you: a similar stone, glowing brightly in someone’s hand, its light intensifying as muffled words reach your ears.

Before you can grasp the context of the fragmented scene, a dull ache pierces your mind, forcing your eyes shut against the sharp sensation.

When you open them again, blinking slowly, silence fills the room. The vivid memory fades, slipping further from your grasp.

The familiar unease that follows these unpredictable flashes settles over you. Once again, the thought crosses your mind: perhaps it’s time to let Wanda explore your thoughts.

Maybe she could decipher the meaning behind these visions—or confirm if you were just going insane.

“Quite the collection you’ve got here,” a voice cuts through the quiet.

Startled, you almost drop the stone, quickly pocketing it as you spin around. 

Tony stands at the door, a smirk plastered on his face. 

“Haven’t you heard of knocking?” you snap, shooting him a sharp glare.

Tony glances back at the door, feigning disbelief. 

“I did knock,” he insists, grinning. “You didn’t hear me? Practically rattled the hinges.”

You suppress a sigh as he strolls through the room, inspecting the shelves like a restless child. At one point, he pulls a book down, flips through a few pages, then shudders dramatically as he snaps it shut. 

“Please tell me you’ve got something more exciting in here than this.” 

He waves the book at you with exaggerated disappointment.

Snatching it from his hands, you glare at him. “Don’t you have work to do?”

Tony gives a dismissive wave, meandering toward another shelf.  

“We’re waiting on supplies,” he explains. “Besides, Vision’s distracted playing nice with your little sorcerer outside.”

“Playing nice?” you ask, raising a brow in surprise.

Tony gives a lazy nod.

“He’s always been interested in that sort of thing—his family had some traces of magic or something in their line. Not great at the whole socializing bit, though, so this behavior is slightly surprising.”

Tony claps his hands and strides past you.

“It’s good, though. He’s always been the more reserved one of his brothers. You know, that’s why I brought him with me in the first place, to give him more exposure to the—hello—what do we have here?”

You follow his gaze, spotting the journal still open on the table in the corner of your eyes, but Tony’s attention is focused on the armored glove. 

Discreetly, you close Howard’s journal and slide it behind a stack of other books while Tony is engrossed in examining the glove with keen interest. 

He suddenly picks it up, slipping it onto his hand with confidence.

“Careful, it’s damaged,” you warn, stepping forward. “We don’t know how it works.”

Tony smirks, waving off your concern as he fumbles with the glove’s mechanism. 

“Relax, it’s just a tool for defense. Completely harmless.”

Just as he finishes, a quiet click sounds from the glove, and suddenly, a shard bursts from its mechanism, ricocheting off the wall. 

You duck instinctively while Tony stumbles back, clearly unprepared for the recoil.

“Well, that wasn’t supposed to happen,” he mutters, brushing himself off.

You shoot him a glare, yanking the glove from his hand. “And how would you know?”

He gives you a smug grin. “Because I designed it.” 

The words catch you off guard, your brows knitting in suspicion as you bring the glove closer to your body. 

“You…designed this?”

He dusts off his sleeve with nonchalance, oblivious to your growing unease. 

“Not this one exactly, but the specs are similar.”

The unease that’s been lingering since Natasha’s news flares up again. With a deep breath, you tap the glove’s surface, your gaze turning serious. 

“This is from the Stark Kingdom though.”

Tony leans casually against a shelf, his relaxed stance at odds with the sudden sharpness in his gaze. 

“And how would you know that?” he counters.

You choose your words carefully, unwilling to reveal too much. 

“I have a source. A reliable one.” 

Tony raises his eyebrows, intrigued, but you press on before he can respond. 

“That would mean that you’re…” you hesitate, searching his face, as you struggle to face the possibility. 

“You’re from Stark, right?” you finish with instead.

Tony scrutinizes you for a moment, then wags his finger as he heads for the door. 

“Nope, that’s not what you wanted to ask,” he says, sidestepping your question.

You stiffen, caught off guard by his intuition. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you call, hurrying after him.

“It means you’re not being honest about what you want to know,” he replies over his shoulder, the words hitting a nerve. 

You hear him continue, muttering in contemplation. 

“This does explain why you’ve been so weird lately whenever I’m near.”

But before you can fire back, he’s already halfway down the hall toward the manor entrance.

You catch up to him just as he exits the manor. 

Vision and Wanda stand at the entrance, deep in conversation, pausing as they notice the two of you approaching.

“Vision, I’m heading into town,” Tony announces breezily. 

He moves to follow. “I’ll prepare the—” 

“No need,” Tony interrupts smoothly, already reaching for the nearby carriage door. “I’ll just take this.”

Before he can open it fully, a flicker of red energy snaps the door shut. 

Wanda steps forward with her arms crossed, her gaze unmistakably unimpressed.

“That’s not yours to take,” she says, her voice edged with warning.

Just as Tony groans in frustration, you arrive at her side, nodding to Wanda.  

“It’s fine, Wanda. I’m going with him.” You fix Tony with a glare. “We still need to finish our conversation.” 

Wanda’s brow arches, her gaze shifting between you and Tony. 

“Alright, I can call for Pietro,” she says, moving to get the other twin. 

“You two don't need to come along,” you reply quickly.

Wanda’s concern deepens on her face at your unusual response, so you add with a reassuring smile, “Really, it’s okay.”

“Any day now, ladies,” Tony quips with an exaggerated sigh, tapping his foot impatiently.

You shoot him a glare. “Has anyone ever told you you’re obnoxious?”

Tony grins, unbothered as ever, shrugging. 

“You know, that does sound familiar,” he replies before stepping into the carriage.

Before you can follow, Wanda catches your arm, her expression a mix of worry and confusion.

“Is everything okay?” she asks softly, her tone laced with concern.

Her words make you pause, forcing you to confront the real reason behind your hesitation to let them overhear this conversation as well as let her into your mind.

It’s not just fear of what she might see—it’s the secret you’ve been keeping from her and her brother.

The truth about who you really are. The truth about your connection to the family responsible for their parents’ tragic deaths.

You’re not ready for them to know. You don’t know how you’d face them if they ever found out.

So, with a small, reassuring smile, you nod. 

“Trust me, Wanda, I’ve got this.”

Then, leaning closer, you soften the moment with a teasing grin.

“Besides, it looks like you’re enjoying your time with Vision.”

Wanda rolls her eyes, though a faint blush colors her cheeks. She quickly regains her composure and removes her scarlet cloak, holding it out to you. 

“Here, wear this. It’ll help keep unwanted attention off you in town,” she says, knowing well from Pietro’s stories how people have been reacting to you.

You accept it gratefully, wrapping it around your shoulders before climbing into the carriage. You settle across from Tony, crossing your arms as the carriage lurches forward. 

Tony doesn’t even glance up, instead examining his hand with what seems like exaggerated nonchalance.

Patience thinning, you let out an annoyed huff. 

“Well?”

Tony finally looks up, feigning surprise. 

“I’m sorry, did you say something? I wasn’t listening.”

Grinding your teeth, you shoot him a glare. 

However, he just raises a brow, daring you to push further. 

Taking a steadying breath, you decide it’s time to cut to the chase, dropping any pretense of subtlety.

“Are you Tony Stark?” 

For a moment, he stares at you, blank and unreadable. Then, he bursts into an exaggerated laugh, leaning back in his seat with a loud, mocking cackle. 

The sudden reaction catches you completely off guard.

“You think I’m Tony Stark? The King of the Stark Kingdom?” he asks between bouts of laughter, his tone dripping with amusement. “Why? Because we share a name? Or because I happen to design a few gadgets from that region?”

You falter, your certainty beginning to waver under his ridicule. “I—it’s just—” 

“Well, you’re right,” he cuts in abruptly, his tone now nonchalant, so casual it almost doesn’t register. He spreads his arms in mock grandeur and a slight bow. 

“I am the one and only…Tony Stark.”

You blink at him, stunned into silence as the words sink in. The ease with which he admits it is almost more shocking than the revelation itself. 

“Just like that?” you finally manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper. “You’d just…admit it?”

Tony grins, throwing his feet up onto the seat beside you and reclining with a maddening air of satisfaction. 

“Why not? You’re sharp enough to figure it out. Besides, it won’t be a secret for much longer.”

You should be feeling shock, panic—something other than the rising annoyance simmering in your chest. Before you can stop yourself, you shove his leg off the seat, forcing him to sit properly.

“For a royal, you have no manners,” you snap.

Tony laughs, completely unfazed. 

“Now you’re really starting to sound like someone I know,” he quips, his tone amused.

Your irritation deepens. The casual way he’s treating this entire situation grates on your nerves, especially with everything you’ve already had to deal with and now with the addition of this. 

“Why are you here?” you demand.

“Why should I tell you?” he counters smoothly. 

Crossing your arms, you glare at him. “Because you lied to me.”

“Wrong,” he corrects, wagging a finger at you. “I never lied. I just didn’t tell you everything. Big difference. Lying’s more of a Romanov specialty than mine.” 

You bristle at his comment, immediately becoming defensive. 

“You can’t say that—you don’t even know them.” 

Tony’s playful demeanor fades slightly, his expression turning serious as his gaze locks with yours. 

“I know what happened the last time my family trusted a Romanov.” 

A heavy silence descends between you, the weight of his words filling the small carriage. You don’t miss the flicker of pain in his eyes as he turns to stare out the window, crossing his arms in what almost seems like a protective gesture.

“Everyone knows you can’t trust a Romanov or anyone from their kingdom,” he mutters, more to himself than to you.

Your hands curl into fists as you glance down, frustration bubbling inside you. 

“That’s hardly a fair judgment,” you whisper. “Not without giving people a chance.”

Tony glances at you, his expression unreadable. Then, leaning forward slightly, he meets your gaze with a challenge in his eyes. 

“Then prove me wrong.”

Your head snaps up, his words catching you off guard. “What?”

He sits back, arms crossed again, and shrugs. 

“I’m not supposed to be here yet. If you can keep my identity a secret until the time is right, I’ll reconsider what I said.” 

You fall silent, his proposition hanging in the air between you. The thought of keeping another secret from Natasha bothers you, but the idea of Tony meeting her with his current distrust of her family is even worse. 

Maybe, just maybe, you could change his mind before that moment arrives.

The rest of the ride passes in tense silence. You’re so lost in thought that you don’t notice your surroundings until the carriage stops. 

Following Tony out, you snap back to reality as you take in the shadowy streets, far from the safer areas of town. 

Grabbing his sleeve, you tug him to a stop. 

Tony releases an indignant sound of surprise as he’s pulled back before turning to you with a disapproving frown.

“Hey, easy, now that you know who I am, there’s no excuse for this kind of disrespect.”

Ignoring his reprimand, you lower your voice, hissing at him in disbelief. 

“What are we doing here? This area is dangerous.”

Tony lets out an exaggerated sigh, clearly unbothered by your concern. 

“Trying to stay low-key in a foreign kingdom. Naturally, I’d go somewhere less…guarded,” he says, his tone dripping with sarcasm. Then he smirks, adding, “You can always wait in the carriage if you’re too scared without your little followers around to protect you.”

Glowering, you push him ahead and lower your hood to obscure your face. You follow as he strides confidently into the alley. He stops at a run-down tavern, the dimly lit entrance as unwelcoming as the rest of the area. 

You hesitate, glancing warily at the door.

“Relax,” Tony says, throwing a grin over his shoulder. “Head low, stay close, and try not to look terrified. These people can smell fear.”

You roll your eyes, releasing a sigh under your breath as you move to step inside. Just before you cross the threshold, the sound of barking draws your attention. 

Glancing back, you spot two scruffy dogs, their muddy coats giving them a ragged appearance. They’re barking and leaping at a bird perched just out of their reach, the falcon screeching indignantly. 

A strange sense of familiarity strikes you, but you shake it off. It’s a ridiculous thought. 

Coincidence, nothing more. 

Steeling yourself, you pull your hood tighter and slip into the tavern to follow Tony.

The atmosphere hits you immediately—a cacophony of rowdy chatter, clinking glasses, and the sharp, pungent tang of alcohol mixed with smoke. 

The dim lighting casts shadows across the rough wooden beams, and the patrons barely glance your way as you weave through the tables, trailing Tony’s confident stride. 

For a moment, you think you might make it through unnoticed.

That hope evaporates as a man steps into your path. His leering grin reveals yellowed teeth, and his eyes sweep over you with an unsettling feeling. 

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing in a place like this?” he asks, his voice slurred and mocking.

You stand your ground, narrowing your eyes at him, refusing to dignify his question with a response.

Stepping to the side, you attempt to move past him, but he reacts quickly, his face twisting with anger as he reaches out to grab your arm.

Before his hand can get close, Tony’s grip suddenly clamps down on the man’s wrist, stopping him mid-motion. 

“Easy there,” Tony says, his tone light but laced with warning. “We’re all here to relax, right? So why don’t you…take a deep breath and do just that.”

The man glares at Tony, weighing his options, but the steady, unflinching look Tony gives him is enough to make him pull back. The man stumbles off, muttering something about it not being worth the trouble. 

Tony claps his hands in satisfaction and then turns to you with an exaggerated raise of his eyebrows. 

“You really know how to attract trouble. No wonder you always need someone around to save the day.” 

You glare at him, your voice clipped.

 “I can handle myself just fine.” 

Tony hums mockingly as if considering your words, then shrugs. “If you say so.” 

He turns and saunters toward a booth tucked into the corner of the tavern, his pace purposefully slower as if to ensure that you stay close. 

The gesture irritates you further, but you follow anyway.

At the booth, a man sits nervously, his eyes darting around the room with visible discomfort.

Tony slides into the seat across from him, greeting him with the same condescension he’d just directed at you.

“Don’t look so scared, Happy. They can smell fear, you know.”

“I’m not scared,” the man retorts defensively, though his shifting gaze betrays him. “I just don’t like places like this.” 

His eyes flick to you, observing you with curiosity. “Who’s she?”

You open your mouth to respond, but Tony waves a dismissive hand in front of your face. 

“Not relevant right now,” he answers for you, earning him a sharp glare from you.

“Also, she knows who I am,” Tony adds with a smirk, “so you can talk freely.” 

Happy shrugs, seemingly accustomed to Tony’s antics. 

Tony leans forward, his tone shifting to one of eager anticipation.

"Well, did you bring it?"

Happy nods, pulling out a cloth-wrapped object from beside him and sliding it across the table. You watch as Tony unwraps it, revealing a glove strikingly similar to the one from your manor—but this one is sleeker, more refined in its design.

“Impressive, right?” Tony asks, shooting you a knowing look as if reading your thoughts. “Unlike yours, mine actually works a lot better.”

You roll your eyes but pause when you notice something.

“It’s missing the stone,” you point out.

Tony’s smirk falters, replaced by a puzzled expression.

“What stone?”

You hesitate, weighing your options, but ultimately decide he’s the best person to ask, considering he’s the son of the one who created the project.

Pulling the dull, cracked stone from your pocket, you hold it out.

“This was attached to the other glove,” you explain. “It glowed yellow with some sort of power before it was damaged.”

Tony takes the stone, his usual flippant demeanor fading as he studies it with uncharacteristic seriousness.

After a moment, Happy breaks the silence, pointing at the stone.

“That looks like something you worked on a few years ago,” he says. “Remember how many times it blew up in your lab?”

Tony glares at him, unamused at the reminder.

“We agreed never to speak of that.”

Turning back to you, Tony gives you a curious look.

“Where did you say you got this glove?”

“We were attacked,” you reply. “It was left behind when they escaped.”

Tony hums thoughtfully, then closes his hand around the stone.

“I’ll hold onto this for you,” he declares.

“Hey, that’s not yours!” you protest, reaching for it.

Tony easily keeps it out of reach. “It’s not yours, either.”

You scoff, incredulous at his childish behavior. For a moment, you wonder how someone like this could possibly share your blood.

Before the standoff can escalate, a hesitant cough breaks the tension.

“The lady did have it first, sir,” Happy interjects, earning a sharp, offended look from Tony.

With backup on your side, you cross your arms and level Tony with a pointed glare, holding your hand out expectantly.

Tony contemplates for a moment, eyes flickering between your hand and the stone in his before releasing an exaggerated sigh, dropping the stone into your hand and then slumping dramatically in his seat.

“Anything else, traitor?” he asks, shooting a glare at Happy.

Unbothered by his words, Happy nods and continues.

“Chancellor Potts wants to know when you’re planning to return. She’s…not thrilled about your sudden departure.”

Tony places a hand over his chest with mock sincerity.

“Aw, does she miss me?”

“It’s not that, sir,” Happy says flatly. 

You cross your arms in disapproval, raising an eyebrow at Tony.

“Wait—you abandoned your kingdom to come here?”

“Abandoned is a strong word,” Tony retorts, wagging a finger at you. “With Pepper running things, my kingdom’s in good hands.”

He turns back to Happy.

“And no, I don’t have a timeline. It all depends on how long this takes.” 

Happy rubs his temples, clearly exasperated.

“Well, I had to tell Jarvis to speed up his pace anyway, but it won’t matter if you’re still looking for—” 

Tony cuts him off with a raised hand, then tosses a small pouch of coins in your direction.

“Do you think you can handle a trip to the bar without starting any trouble? I’m parched.”

You narrow your eyes, catching the not-so-subtle attempt to get rid of you. Still, with no further explanation forthcoming, you roll your eyes and head to the bar.

The barkeep nods as you approach. “What’ll it be?”

Leaning against the counter, you smile politely. 

“Whatever you’d make for someone who’s testing your patience.” 

The barkeep chuckles knowingly and sets to work. 

As you wait, a commotion from the other side of the room draws your attention—cheers, laughter, and groans of disappointment. Peering past the crowd, you see coins being exchanged as two figures face off in a card game. 

The burly man at the table glares at his opponent, his eyes narrowing. 

“You should back out now before I bleed you dry, little lady.”

The masked figure across from him leans forward, her voice light and teasing. 

“Aww, is the big man scared?”

Laughter erupts at her taunt, but you frown instead, the voice sounding suspiciously familiar. You push through the crowd to get a better look. 

The dim light in the tavern doesn’t help much, but as you approach, your eyes narrow. 

The masked figure’s darkened hair gives you pause—it’s black, not blonde like expected. Still, the way she moves, the self-assured tilt of her head, sends alarm bells of recognition in your mind.

The burly man, clearly agitated, gestures toward a dagger at the masked woman’s side. 

“How about you throw that fancy knife into the pot and whatever your friend’s got strapped to her back?”

Your eyes shift to the figure standing protectively behind her, another masked woman. Her nervous fidgeting is unmistakable, as is the distinct bow strapped to her back—Clint’s signature design, one you’d recognize anywhere with how often Kate brings it with her everywhere.

Crossing your arms, you let out a long, exasperated sigh. 

“Oh my god,” you mutter under your breath, already knowing whose idea this was.

The masked woman at the table leans forward, her voice dripping with confidence as she responds, “Don’t get ahead of yourself. You’re playing against me, remember?” 

There’s no mistaking her now. Yelena’s tone is as bold and unshakable as ever, mirroring her sister’s in every way.

She reaches for the dagger at her side, drawing it out to twirl it in the light. The hilt and blade gleam, the intricate craftsmanship unmistakable—it looks like the one you’d given Natasha not long ago.

You straighten when you realize it is the one you had gifted Natasha.

As Yelena seems to consider the man’s challenge, her smirk widening with the thrill of the wager, you feel your patience snap at the thought of risking something you designed personally for Natasha. 

You move to step forward, intent on stopping her from making a reckless decision, but before you can take a step, a firm grip wraps around your arm, pulling you back into the crowd.

Irritation flares instantly. Tony’s earlier remarks about you needing protection flash through your mind, fueling your annoyance.

Without hesitation, you jab your elbow into the person’s side, twisting out of their grip. 

Their hold loosens, and as their face tilts into view, your irritation shifts to surprise.

Bright green eyes meet yours, sharp and unmistakable even in the dim light.

“Natasha?” you whisper in a hiss, barely keeping your voice low. 

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

a/n: I’m so sorry for the long delay between the chapters for this series. This one is definitely trickier to write cause there is a lot more components to organize, but I’m starting to get back into it. Again, thank you for reading and for your patience!

Also, I’m going to attempt to be more interactive with you all since you take the time to leave such nice comments on my works, so whenever I have some spare time, you may see me popping around in the replies and responding.

If you asked to be tagged and I missed it, please let me know again.

Taglist : @midastouch013, @2silverchain, @dvrkhcld, @observeowl, @x-drowned-x, @fireandblood-3, @natsxwife, @leequifey, @blacklightsposts, @srt-sah, @scar-letwidow, @likefirenrain, @autorasexy, @natsbiggestfan1, @lex13cm, @iheartjohansson, @tofu9162, @unexpected-character, @natashasilverfox, @acciowriting, @qtreesfanstuff, @mrsrushman, @inarayofmoonlight, @viosblog112, @inarayofmoonlight, @maximoff-jp, @natashasilverfox

[nokingsonlyfooles]

Personally - so probably not as applicable to the room, unless the room has PTSD - I had to study human behaviour for my own safety in a series of very bad situations and I know the template of "ordinary human being" that I need for social interaction got pretty mangled in the process.

I see fear and deprivation calling the shots for other human beings - all of whom I want to live and be happy - much like they did for me when I was a lot less safe. You gotta get safe first. Somehow, you have to establish a pocket of safety for all parties involved, or nobody's gonna listen, let alone change for the better.

But I also see I exist in an ecosystem that is designed to keep manufacturing threats so everyone, myself included, will keep making real bad decisions. Such as isolating and being quiet and just plain giving up out of frustration.

The internet used to be safe for me, and a lot of my friends. I'm ancient, I guess. It doesn't look like that anymore. The structure has changed. I can't do safety, connection and sincere discussion around here anymore... not even with a passerby who seems to be out there fighting the good fight too. It's all a performance with a mask on, although it's a different one than I need for, like, the grocery store.

Thank you for your words. I hope any words I leave around here are helpful to someone, and if we ever have a meatspace encounter, I hope we can be kind to each other. Good luck out there.

Activism is not cold-calling.

Activism is not cold-calling, and this is critically important to understand.

I'm seeing a lot of posts on here about 'building bridges' and 'finding community,' and then (extremely valid) response posts saying "BUT HOW??" And I'm going to explain something that can be very counter-intuitive: there is strategy involved in community.

As a longtime volunteer labour organizer, I’ve taken and taught many trainings on the strategy of talking. Something that surprises a lot of people is the very first thing you do in a union campaign. You sit down with your organizing committee, take out pen and paper, and literally map it out. You draw a physical map of the workplace: where are the entrances, exits, break rooms, supervisor offices. Essentially, ‘where is it safe to have a union conversation.’ Then you draw another physical chart of your coworkers. You sort out who is union-friendly, openly hostile to unions, or somewhere in the middle, and then you plan out very deliberately and carefully who talks to whom and in what order.

Consider: If Vocally Leftist Jane walks up to Conservative David and says "hey what do you think about unions," David is going to shut down immediately. He's not inclined to listen to Jane. But if Jane talks to Moderate Jason and brings him into the fold, then Jason is a far more effective strategic choice to talk to David, and David may actually hear him out without an instant reaction.

IMPORTANT CAVEAT: If Conservative David turns out to be Alt-Right David, and could be dangerous to follow organizers, we write him off. We are not trying to reach Alt-Right David. We are trying to reach Conservative David, who may actually be persuaded to find solidarity with other employees as fellow workers. Jason is a safe scout to find out which one he is. It does no one any good if Leftist Jane (or even Moderate Jane who is a visible minority) talks to Alt-Right David and puts herself on his radar. Not only has she done nothing to convince Alt-Right David to join a union - she's probably actively turned him against the idea - but now she's also in danger and the entire campaign is at risk. NOBODY WANTS THIS. Jane was NOT a hero for doing this. The organizing committee was foolish and enacted a terrible strategy to everyone's detriment.

Where you can make a difference is with people who will listen to you. You having a conversation with your well-meaning but clueless Centrist Democrat Auntie, and maybe gently helping her understand some things the media has been glossing over, is way more strategically useful than you marching up to MAGA Neighbour You've Met Once and trying to "build community" or "understand" them. They don't care. They're impervious, dangerous, and cruel. But maybe your beloved auntie will think about what you said, and then talk to her friend Anna who IDs as "fiscally conservative" but didn't vote because she can't bring herself to get on board with Trump. Then perhaps Anna talks to her brother Nic who has MAGA leanings but isn't all the way there yet. Proto-MAGA Nic would not have listened to you, nor would he have listened to Centrist Democrat Auntie, but he might absorb some of what his sister is saying.

This is not a cop-out or an echo chamber. This is you spending your time and energy strategically and safely. You are not a useful activist to anyone if you’re dead. Anyone who is telling you to hurl yourself directly at MAGA assholes like cannon fodder has no understanding of the strategy behind community building, and you should feel comfortable writing them off.

Last point: If you are tired, emotionally devastated, and/or in danger: take a break. This post is for people who would feel better jumping into action, not for people who are too overwhelmed to even think about it right now. You are worth so much even if you’re not actively Doing Activism, and your rest is worth more than “a break period so you can recharge and Do More Activism.” We all deserve the individual dignity of being worthy of comfort, rest & safety just on the basis of being human, outside of whatever we're doing for others' benefit. To deny ourselves that dignity is to devalue ourselves, and that’s the absolute last thing any of us should be doing right now.

[jikooklove9795]

With the news just of JKs series, which seems to be the film split from the trailer, just with extras, am I wrong to pray that we don’t get a documentary for Muse?

I just have this really bad feeling that Jimin would say something more unhinged than he did during the Bangtan bombs we got and the interviews with p dogg, when he said he couldn’t remember the last time he had a crush, that he was alone, and he couldn’t relate to the love songs. That telling the producers what he wanted for Who was like them reading his diary, basically that whole segment is sus, and technically debunked Jikook. I can imagine him saying he’s never been in love etc. I just know he would do that. We’ve got Jimin choosing Who, about not having love, and JK chooses all songs about being with the one you love, so I wasn’t worried about him saying anything, just Jimin.

I am wrong to feel this way? I pray every night for it not to happen

Hi Anon!

First I need to tell you this before I go further on explaining why MUSE, the album as a whole does nothing to debunk Jikook:

As much as I love celebrating Jikook's bond and relationship I'm not someone who has any kind of expectations from both Jimin and Jungkook. I won't demand them to behave a certain way so that I get the confirmation my ship needs. Having such kind of expectations is not ony wrong but also unfair to them.

Anon, I hope I don't sound condescending which is not my intention at all. I'm just saying this in your best interest. I hope you'll take it in the right spirit.

Now I'll share my views on why MUSE does not debunk Jikook.

MUSE is a conceptual album as opposed to FACE which was autobiographical. As stated by Jimin and the producers they were following a storyline for MUSE. Also, when it came to MUSE Jimin had so much to share, ideas to give and discuss while for FACE we didnt get that, did we? Since FACE was about his own life and the struggles he went through, he was hesitant and holding back not letting us know much about it. Which was not surprising knowing how serious he is about his personal life.

And something which I think you're forgetting is that Jimin is an artist. An artist who will experiment with his work and explore diverse genres in order to bring to the table different stories for the fans. Stories which fans also can relate to. Stories which aren't about his personal life and experiences. His work is not always going to be solely focused on his personal life. So, try to separate his work life from his personal life.

Also, taking into consideration his situation (his country, the industry he works in) its highly unlikely for him to say "Hey! Jungkook is my bf. We have been in love for a long time now". That's not gonna happen anytime in the near future. So, what we will be getting instead is "I'm single for as long as I can remember. I don't even know how having a crush feels like".

This is the exact reason why "Letter" gets passed off as a fan song in the general fandom. Cause Jimin is not in a position to say "Letter" is for Jungkook. That's a sad reality. But its for their own safety and well being. Which provides them a cover, a protection. The same cover cause of which they were able to enlist together. Which in my opinion is the most important for them, I mean being able to stay together rather than risk everything and expose themselves.

However Jimin did provide a few hints here and there for those who are willing to listen.

And an even BIGGER HINT with this one here:

The billboard falling at the same time Jimin goes "Who's my heart waiting for". Someone whose facial structure is not that of a woman but of a man. A man with doe eyes. A man who stole his heart all those years ago. A man with whom he's happy and very obviously in love.

Have a nice day Anon!

Credits to the owner of the video

[brodygold]

A Straightforward Proposal

Connor strolled down the hallway of the Golden Army’s stadium, his polished loafers tapping softly against the tiled floor. He wasn’t even sure how he’d ended up here—a random detour during a walk around town had led him to the imposing structure, the very heart of his city’s famed soccer team, the Golden Army. He wasn’t into sports, much less one as intense as soccer. But lately, a strange feeling had been pulling him toward things outside his comfort zone, and here he was, wandering through the hallowed halls of a world he didn’t belong to.

The locker room was quiet, almost sacred in its stillness, and he walked slowly, taking in the row of metal lockers, the slightly worn benches, the walls lined with framed photos of the team’s most victorious moments. He admired the team from afar, had even been to a few games with friends who raved about the players, but he never quite understood the appeal. To him, sports were just… messy, loud, and unpredictable.

But as he walked through the room, Connor’s gaze landed on something unusual—a glimmer of gold hanging from one of the open lockers. He stepped closer, his curiosity piqued. It was a jersey, but not just any jersey. The iconic golden hue, the dark green trim, the embroidered initials “GA” on the chest. It looked pristine, like it was waiting for someone to claim it.

Connor couldn’t resist reaching out and running his fingers along the smooth, sturdy fabric. It felt different from his usual designer clothes—strong, like it had been built to withstand anything. A little voice in the back of his mind told him to walk away, that this wasn’t for him. But a stronger urge tugged at him to put it on, just to feel what it was like, to imagine himself as one of those powerful, unstoppable players who wore it with pride.

With one last look around, Connor took a deep breath and slipped off his tailored shirt, folding it neatly on the bench beside him. Then, with a mixture of excitement and hesitation, he pulled the golden jersey over his head. As soon as it settled against his torso, he felt a strange warmth spread through his chest, like the jersey was coming alive, molding itself to his frame.

Connor looked down in surprise as his body began to change. His chest began to fill out, his muscles expanding beneath the jersey, stretching the fabric. His arms, which had always been slender and toned from careful exercise, started thickening with muscle, his biceps and forearms bulging as if he’d been lifting weights for years. The sensation was strange, almost surreal, but he found himself enjoying it, watching his transformation in awe.

His shoulders broadened, stretching the collar of the jersey. His torso shifted, becoming leaner and harder, with defined abs pressing against the fabric. He turned to look at himself in the mirror, and a shock of disbelief hit him. His face, once soft-featured and refined, had become sharper, his jaw more pronounced, his cheeks taking on a rugged, chiseled look. Even his hair, usually perfectly styled and gelled, had become slightly messier, like he’d just come off the field, the strands falling in a way that looked effortlessly cool.

As he admired the changes, a strange dizziness washed over him, and he steadied himself against the locker. It wasn’t just his body that was changing—his thoughts, too, were shifting. Memories of afternoons at art galleries and brunches in upscale cafes began to fade, replaced by images of practice drills, intense workouts, and the sound of cheering crowds. He thought of the thrill of scoring a goal, of hearing his name chanted by fans, of pushing his body to its limits alongside his teammates.

Connor felt a surge of adrenaline as these new memories took hold, filling him with a sense of purpose he’d never felt before. He could see himself on the field, fighting for victory with every ounce of strength, his teammates by his side, their bond stronger than anything he’d known. The idea of camaraderie, of being part of something bigger than himself, ignited a fire in him. He was no longer the preppy guy who drifted through life with little direction—he was a Golden Army player, a warrior on the field, dedicated to the game, to his team, to victory.

And as his memories continued to reshape, so did his interests. Gone was his taste for designer clothes, his carefully curated lifestyle. In its place grew a love for competition, for strength, for the thrill of the game. He could feel his attraction shifting too; his old boyfriends and dates felt distant, almost foreign, like they belonged to someone else. Now, he saw himself with girls cheering him on from the stands, joining him after the game in victory celebrations. Their soft lips and lovely breasts just begging to be squeezed. His old life seemed laughable compared to this new world of intensity and purpose.

Just as he took a deep breath, adjusting to the strange yet exhilarating transformation, he heard a chuckle from behind. Turning, he saw Brody, one of the Golden Army’s most respected players, leaning casually against the doorway, arms crossed and a smirk on his face.

“Enjoying the jersey?” Brody asked, clearly amused.

Connor grinned back, the confidence and ease in his expression startling even himself. “Yeah… feels like it was meant for me,” he said, his voice deeper, rougher, and rich with a newfound bravado.

Brody nodded, stepping forward and clapping him on the back with a strong hand. “Guess it found the right guy, then. We could use someone with your… enthusiasm.”

Connor felt a surge of pride at the unspoken approval in Brody’s voice. He could feel the weight of the team’s legacy on his shoulders, and instead of intimidating him, it excited him. He felt ready to prove himself, to show everyone that he belonged here.

“So, when’s the next game?” Connor asked, the words slipping out naturally.

Brody raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “Tomorrow morning. Practice at six sharp. Think you’re up for it?”

“Of course,” Connor replied confidently. The idea of waking up before dawn for training didn’t faze him. In fact, it thrilled him. “I was born for this.”

Brody chuckled. “That’s the spirit. Welcome to the team, man.”

With one last look at his reflection, Connor felt a surge of excitement. He was no longer the preppy guy wandering aimlessly through life. He was Connor of the Golden Army, a fierce, driven athlete with a team, a purpose, and a brotherhood he’d fight for. His life was now about pushing his limits, winning for the team, for the pride of wearing the golden jersey.

As he and Brody walked out of the locker room, Connor felt a deep sense of belonging, of purpose. He knew he’d never go back to his old life—the designer suits, the gallery openings, the carefully curated image. It all seemed so empty compared to the thrill of the field, the roar of the crowd, and the loyalty of his teammates. He couldn’t wait to dominate on the field with his bros and with the chicks in the sheets!

[thatsveryvortex]

Writing Tools for Planning Your Story

I've tried tons of writing apps and sites, so you don't have to. Here's a list of free sites to plot out your novel, with my review and some images of how I use it.

Milanote

Milanote is like having a giant pinboard with folders. You can upload anything onto it [yes even your main doc] and then draw over it or connect things with lines and arrows

Milanote lets you add up to a hundred things for free, not including drawing. This is one of the downsides of the site as I've found myself reaching that limit recently.

For me, the best part is being able to draw over stuff, and the color swatches.

Milanote is a lot less structured than other sites I've used, and personally, I don't think their templates are worth using.

8/10 overall, Milanote is what I mainly use. Here are some pics of how I use it:

Miro

Miro is a flowchart website mainly used for corporate jobs, however, it can be a great plotting tool for that reason

Miro has a lot of great starter templates if you are looking for a more structured freeform experience. It also comes with a blank page as well.

Unfortunately, I'd argue that it's a bit of a hard tool for beginners to use without a template, I've learned copy-paste is my best friend with Miro the hard way.

It's much better than most platforms at making timelines though.

It has a limit of three boards which is a bit disappointing but overall, I think it's worth the try.

5/10 Miro is very middle of the road for me due to the limited ability to customize things and the free limit. Here are some pics:

[I wrote that part weeks ago, I am now fully using Miro and believe it's the best for making timelines and charts, I just wish it let me make more boards 8/10]

Hiveword

This might be someone's jam, I can't really say it's mine though.

First off, the unpaid version is really just a few boxes saying "Write a summary here." which makes it just not worth it in my opinion

There really isn't any way to customise things which is my favorite part of most of these softwares

I've barely used this, so maybe there's something I'm missing but

1/10, Just use Google Docs at this point, here's a couple pics

World Anvil

People like this software, it's mainly used for tabletop, which is just a different way of writing adventure, and I've seen it recommended by authors.

Unfortunately, I'm going to disagree with a lot of people and say it's hard to use and isn't even really good at plotting.

I may be biased on this one as every time I've tried to use it in the past I've struggled. However, it seems like another just write it in a document and create a folder.

I'd say it's closer to an organizing tool, but even then just use something else.

3/10, I have nothing to say about it but maybe you'll enjoy it, all here are two photos

Campfire

This is the one I think I've heard the most about, but have never actually tried.

right off the bat, I'm going to say this is 100% worth it, you'll see at the end with the photos but this is like if Miro and World Anvil had an organization baby.

It's extremely easy to understand, and it makes timelines, it's more for writing your whole book but idk about that yet.

7/10, its themes are really pretty but it limits how much you can do to 20 I believe. Here are the photos

That's all for now, honestly, I think you should use Miro if you are looking to plot things out, and Milanote if you want to collect and organize your thoughts for writing, as that's what I do. Obviously what I like won't be for everyone, but hopefully, this helped you see some options

[jackalope78]

I'm getting fucking sick of this argument being presented like it's something new that feminists haven't acknwledged and been aware of FROM DAY FUCKING ONE. God damn. A huge tennant that I learned in feminist teachings is that the patriarchy is also bad for men. That one of the things we need to fight for is how to deprogram men from patriarchal expectations. Was it front and center? No, of course not, because while men are victims of the patriarchy they aren't the main sufferers. But my god if I have to see one more person reblog this like it's some kind of fucking revelation I'm going to scream.

And look, I get it, all groups are different. And different feminists groups have different ideas and exectations and different methods on how to carry out those ideals. But every single feminist group I've encountered in my life has at least acknowledged that the patriarchy is bad for men.

And honestly people of the cis male gender, asking women to come up with ideas on how to help deprogram other men is kind of.... not our job? Because men entrenched in patriarchal ideals aren't going to listen to women, that's kind of the whole point to the patriarchy.

Finally, there needs to be room in feminist spaces for women to scream about how men have hurt them without feeling guilty about hurting the feelings of some man caught in the crossfire. Here's an example. I'm a white woman, but I understand that a POC screaming about how white people are assholes who voted for fascism because they're all racist has a valid point even if I'm annoyed that I've been mistakenly caught in that statement. It's not my job to educate this hypothetical POC that some white people are good, it's my job to tell other white people to stop with the racism AND give that POC space to be angry at the racist structures they find themselves trapped in. This is part and parcel of accepting the burden of your priviledge. (And just so you understand that this really is a 1 to 1, white people are damaged by white supremist ideals. Maybe not as badly as men are damaged by the patriarchy, but the damage is there. Go read Kindred by Octavia Butler and notice how she takes a sweet young white boy and turns him into a monster shaped by the white supremasict society he's in. Is it a major point of the book? No, but it's there.)

So please, the next time you find yourself wondering how feminists can help men deprogram themselves. Or find yourself wondering why feminists don't acknowledge the pain that men feel under the patriarchy, just stop.

I want there to be fewer MRAs. Do you want that too? Do you want to know what helps us get there, from a feminist perspective?

You may not like my answer: acknowledge that sexism can affect men. Recognize that, although the patriarchy generally privileges men, they are also subject to restrictive gender roles that are harmful to them (shunning all things “feminine,” not showing emotions, being protectors/strong, never admitting being victims of SA/IPV, having to “earn” their manhood, etc.).

Give young men a place other than the right-wing manosphere to be heard about the issues they experience. If these grifters are telling them “only we understand how hard it is to be a man, the left hates you for your gender” and they look to the left and see “men claiming they have ‘problems’ are losers who just hate women, all men are trash,” do you think they’re going to be drawn towards or away from feminism?

Before you leave an angry response: no, this does not mean to center men instead of women in feminism, it just means including them at all. No, it is not ��coddling” men to treat them with human dignity, you can and should continue to hold them (and every other gender) responsible for unpacking sexist beliefs. No, this does not mean it is every individual woman’s and feminist’s responsibility to prioritize men’s issues, it just means at the least not shutting them down when they do speak up about sexism. No, it is not “not all men-ing” to point out that “men are trash” sentiments hurt the feminist movement rather than helping it. Ask questions before you make accusations on this post, please. I have been abused by men too, I get it, this isn’t easy to hear.

[callsign-relic]

dont look at me ive just been like fiending over the titan au for the past . 30 minutes just foaming at the maw about it

also my first anon here yay yay yay! yippee! but anyways onto BUSINESS.

ive mainly just been thinking about titan!megatron being a tiny bit . obsessed????? possessive? over a little human like sorry i just enjoy the difference in culture, language, and size especially TOO much.

something ive mainly been thinking about is just. this little human walking around in this strange, dangerously alien city thats absolutely massive, the buildings a cold steel, but the second they put their hands on anything the warmth from their hands just barely stir the nanites in the titan that makes whatever they touched bloom into a soft blue hue

colored footprints leave behind a trail that fade slowly over time, the blue hues melding into greens and yellows the longer the human lingers in an area as the surrounding area soaks in the warmth

meanwhile megatron has been keeping an eye on the little thing since minute one, shifting things around quietly to keep the human close and most importantly safe, one wrong move and the little guy would go kersplat if he didnt keep an eye on them

so he does, watching the human just taking in the alien cityscape with an awe in their eyes that megatron could barely understand

also something ive always like. not really disliked ?? more like. gotten enough of the “waah im a little human who knows nothing!! ):>” thing, like I KNOW ITS MOST TIMES SUPPOSED TO BE LIKE. A READER INSERT but idk! i just wanna see people flesh out the human more in these kinda things

like what if they were a architect before finding themselves in the depths of the titan? what if they studied everything interesting about the structures inside megatron, said titan watching them with curiosity as they quickly write down something in a notebook that they slowly fill over time the longer they spend inside him

or maybe a linguist! slowly deciphering the little bits of cybertronian that they can find to understand the alien language, over time learning that the walls were almost covered in poetry, maybe making some of their own in inspiration of the titans, maybe megatron would be elated to learn that someone else has the same interest? like i mean the guy is probably extremely lonely, even if its self imposed there would still be some kind of yearning to be understood if you catch my drift??

gahh SORRY FOR THESE THOUGHTS BEING SO JUMBLED i just had to write this stuff down or it’d never leave my head lol BUT I HOPE YOU ENJOY THESE? MAYBE?

Eeeee these are so cool thank you so much for sharing!!!

I love the idea of the human having some background to them. An architect or a linguist or anything, just something that gives them a purpose to be interested rather than just “ooo big alien”. I feel like once Megatron sees the human’s attempts to reach out and communicate, maybe he would try and reach out too.

This tiny creature, smaller than dust, yet he still tries to communicate with them, because of how interested they seem in him too…

[tellmeallaboutit]

A couple more thoughts on hells lore and why I found it contradictory. So there are two things. There is "this was written this way in the lore book" and there is "this is the way it was actually written".

In the lore book, it says that devils are genderless and the concept of gender does not apply to them. In some other older sources, it says 1/3 women, 1/3 men, and 1/3 "other" as was pointed out me today. It also says that devils have no familial relationships and do not feel love or affection or sexual attraction like mortals do. Let’s ignore the fact that there were many re-writes and editions for now; most of them follow the statement that gender is not relevant:

And then there is a way it was actually written, which is a completely different story and which has all the real world biases and power structures. Let's look at our beautiful she-devils aka devils presenting as female (for what reason, I wonder, if gender has no meaning?):

Baalphegor (consort to a more powerful male-presenting fiend), Glasya (daughter to a more powerful male-presenting fiend), Fierna (daughter), Baftis (consort), Lilith (consort), Cozbi (consort), Benzosia (consort). If no gender identity or familiar relationships, why... all of this? Why extremely pronounced gender dimorphism, why consortship, why nepotism, why, lol, heterosexuality in all of these consortships and note the type of heterosexuality: a female-looking devil subservient in hierarchy to a male-looking devil?

The exception sorta kinda is Zariel, but not quite because she is the protege of Asmodeus. He put her in her chair. There are a couple more that do not really disrupt the general pattern for me. There is no female arch-devil that is neither consort nor daughter nor granted power by a more powerful male.

Now you can argue whether it was bias of writers, or design (I am pretty sure it is the former, but what does it matter in the end?), but there is a very obvious contradiction in there for me.

So in a nutshell, the situation is like sitting in front of all-male board of directors that point to their company codex and saying our company is absolutely gender-unbiased, yes, all equal opportunity here, IT IS WRITTEN RIGHT THERE YOU BLIND MORTAL FUCK, in fact, our CHRO is a woman, yes, daughter of the CEO but she is like totally competent.

[justanotherflemethstan]

I have finally finished Veilguard. I have already voiced my critiques (critique 1, critique 2, critique 3 & critique 4) and I largely stand by them. so instead, here are 5 things I absolutely loved about Dragon Age The Veilguard.

1. Mourn Watch

Mourn Watch, Mourn Watch, Mourn Watch. Wow. wwowowowow. Everything, from Rook's background, their interactions with Emmrich and unique Mourn Watch dialogue options throughout the game, to the location and the lore and Myrna & Vorgoth, was Perfect. I wouldn't change a single thing and the only difficulty I have with the Mourn Watch faction is not making all of my future Rooks Mourn Watchers too. If bioware makes Mourn Watch themed merch I will buy ALL of it. if any of you are making Mourn Watch themed merch please hmu.

(also, can I just say, I bet that at least one of people responsible for Mourn Watch has read The Locked Tomb. you just can tell, and I say that as a compliment)

2. Grand Necropolis

Is it a cheat to have the first two points be kind of about the same thing? Who cares. The Grand Necropolis was AMAZING. I could spend an entire game within its walls and never leave. In fact, I WANT to spend an entire game within its walls. We need a Grand Necropolis DLC. I want to know EVERYTHING there is to know about its lore and its customs. I am truly obsessed. Special thanks to all the level artists and level designers involved in making Grand Necropolis happen.

3. Davrin and his romance

Davrin's romance was just breathtaking. Him and my Rook felt like soulmates and I loved loved loved every interaction they had. Everything from Davrin's character and his story arc to the voice acting and the way his romance with Rook was written is just fantastic. I probably won't be able to romance him again bc I ship him with my canon Rook so hard. Davrin easily goes into my Top 5 favourite Dragon Age characters of all time.

4. Combat

I've played a sword and board warrior and I had a blast. I was playing on Normal/Adventurer difficulty and admittedly by the end of the game my Rook became a bit OP and was insta killing almost everything that moved and bosses took about 8-10 hits. But I'm really really looking forward to experiencing the other classes and experimenting with different builds/party comps/difficulty settings. The combat was truly a highlight of this game for me and I'd say that it's probably my favourite Dragon Age combat system of all the 4 games now. Which is really not something I expected to say going into the game.

5. Companions and their personal quests

The devs promised us a diverse and lovable set of companions and imo they truly delivered. I liked doing companions' personal questlines the most, and I loved how they were all very different and didn't follow the same structure or story beats. Companions also all had different personalities and quirks and their interactions with each other were memorable and kept me engaged with the game even when I was struggling through some of the slower parts. The Veilguard did indeed deliver on The Veilguard.

___

I know all these are pretty subjective and I appreciate that everyone might have a different experience with any or all of the above points. I just felt it'd be only fair to be as vocal about the parts of the game I enjoyed as I was about the things I didn't like.

[theglamorousferal]

The screen lights up showing a group of 10 young adults at a table composed of two card tables of slightly differing heights. There was a large screen along one wall and everyone had a file in front of them. The rest of the room was all metal paneling, broadcasting equipment lines one wall and a refrigerator stood alone on the other. Aside from the makeshift boardroom table, you’d assume this was a professional meeting setup. The camera didn’t shake or go out of focus.

A goth woman stood in front of the screen, button to change slides in hand. She had a look that evoked a concrete structure, covered in graffiti and mostly reclaimed by nature. She wore a punk jacket, had bright purple undercut hair with a living plant in the clasp holding the small ponytail, a torn Dumpty Humpty band tee, and skinny jeans covered in patches, random embroidery of rose vines and tears to reveal fishnet stockings underneath and a pair of steel capped Doc Martens on her feet. She scowled at a tall redhead that had a mouse in his hand and a laptop in front of him. He had a red polo shirt, khaki cargo shorts and sneakers on.

“Do we really need to record everything?” she asked.

“Hey, I want to document a group of magically inclined and contaminated people relocating, and the planning phase is a part of that.” Explained the redhead.

The other redhead spoke up, this one shorter and with glasses, he also wore a polo shirt, though his was light green, and had khaki slacks and a pair of loafers. “Plus, it makes it easier to take the minutes of the meeting, this is technically Team Phantom business now.” He pressed his glasses back up his nose and sniffed, fingers at the ready over his own keyboard.

The goth rolled her eyes. “Fine, moving on. Our options slightly changed, the Crime Alley apartments are no longer available. Apparently a gang was squatting there and it got bombed by Red Hood last night.” 

She clicks the button and an image of a twitter post from the Red Hood saying “Fuck you Sionis <3”. It contained a selfie of the Red Hood flashing a peace sign with the apartments engulfed in flame behind him.

“On the bright side, we still have the other two options. The first being the hotel.” She clicked the button and a glamor shot of the front of the building appeared on the screen. It had an art deco style to it and a large lit up sign in the front. It was all light stone facade with gold trim. The next slide showed the lobby. It had a large reception area with elevators to one side and a restaurant at the other. The floor was black and white checkered marble with gold detailing between the tiles. Another slide showed a few shots of large meeting rooms, four in total. The next slide showed different shots of the rooms everyone would get. Two adjoining rooms, one for a bedroom and the other for office and living space. Another slide showed the pool with a hot tub and sauna at one end.

“With this we’d have a communal kitchen, but each would have two private rooms and private bathrooms.” The next slide had a list of pros and cons. “Pros would be the customizability of the rooms, we’d be able to change whatever we want to a point, and we’d each get suites. Here, we’d have the pool, and we could set up gym equipment in one of the meeting rooms on the second floor. It comes with the furniture that’s currently there, I’ve already looked into a program the Martha Wayne Foundation has for the extra furniture we won’t need.

“Cons would be primarily location. While it is in Gotham proper and only about a 20 minute walk to campus, it is nearby where rogues like to wreak havoc. It’s down by the docks, so we’d have to up security pretty high, maybe even have patrol shifts. We’d also have to deal with the gun fights that will break out literally a block over.” A large blonde boy in light wash jeans, a white t-shirt and a letterman jacket with his chair tilted back, scoffed and the goth narrowed her eyes at him. “These are real guns idiot, like with metal bullets that can actually kill you, or at the very least injure you an excessive amount. I don’t care how invulnerable we feel after all the shit we’ve been through, metal bullets can still hit us and kill us.” Her eyes started to glow and her hair stood on end and the plant in her hair started to vine around the sides of her head forming a crown.

The blonde tilted his chair so it was settled on the ground again and held up his hands in surrender. “Okay, I’ll keep that in mind. I just think I’ve gotten good enough at dodging that I don’t have to worry. But continue.” He waved his hand at her. 

She narrowed her eyes further, though the mystical effects around her calmed back down. “I’m going to let Skulker use you for target practice during the next training session and he’s not allowed ecto-weapons. They won’t be lethal, but they’ll hurt like a bitch. Anyway,” she clicked the next slide and a picture of Oswald Cobblepot, aka the Penguin, appeared on the screen, “the last con is that we’d be purchasing from a former gang leader, and while I’ll admit he’s been trying lately, he does have blood on his hands.” Several people shifted at that. The black girl’s hand twitched as if she wished for a weapon. She wore a loose set of gym clothes, red sweatpants, black tanktop and an orange hoodie. A lanky boy in a nasa t-shirt and loose light wash jeans with black hair clenched his fist and his eyes went from a shocking blue to electric green. 

A blonde girl in a yellow sundress piped up. “According to what Wes found, he hasn’t been found guilty of causing anybody’s death yet, and hasn’t been arrested or done anything really in the last year.”

“Thank you Star. This brings us to our last option, Drake Manor.” She clicked to the next slide and beyond a large cast iron fence stood a large gothic manor. There was a sign above the gate that said Drake Manor, though it looked newer than the fixtures around it. More pictures showing the grounds, as well as a heated pool that was half in a glass greenhouse appeared on the screen. Inside there was a water slide alongside a miniature waterfall and a hot tub to one side. There was plenty of extra space that appeared to have been unused for quite some time in the greenhouse. The entrance of the manor was all hardwood floors and fabric walls dating back to before Gotham became a proper city. Miscellaneous rooms came across the screen on the next few slides, showing a gym, a kitchen, a dining room and a home theater. There was a server room next to the main office, and a wine cellar. “There are two wings, they are designated the Family wing and the Guest wing, there’s eight suites in each, all containing a bathroom, a bedroom and an office space or sitting room area. There are also several desks in the library and an empty room right next to it we can turn into a study space.” She clicked through the images showing all of these. 

“Now,” she clicked to the pros and cons list for this option, “the major pro is that we wouldn’t have to beef up security. This place is pretty much a fortress, I guess being the youngest CEO in modern business will lead to you having state of the art security. The place is private, and away from rogues and vigilantes alike. It’s definitely the safest option for us, and we know the person selling it is legit and not gonna come back later trying to squeeze more money out of us. The major cons are that it’s pretty far from campus and public transport, we’d have to carpool, and that Tim will still come by from time to time while he’s working on relocating the artifacts from his parent’s archaeological digs. He’s bound to notice something’s up with us. I don’t think he’d say anything from what I remember of him from past galas, but I can’t be too certain because I haven’t really talked to him since like, middle school.” She clicked to the next slide, this showing the pros and cons lists for each location.

“I still can’t believe none of us realized you were richer than god.” A black-haired latina girl clucked. She wore a light pink crop top with a white lace and mesh shrug over it and a wrap mini skirt in lavender and greek styled gold strappy sandals up her calves. She had a large silver and turquoise ring on her hand and bright Barbie pink nails. 

“Yeah, not gonna lie you hid that better than Fenton ever did his secret identity.” The tall redhead from earlier laughed.

“Hey, I resent that. I thought the whole being dead thing was a pretty good cover.” The lanky boy with the black hair grumbled. 

A tall and muscular asian boy clapped him on the shoulder, he also wore a letterman jacket though he had a black t-shirt on underneath. “Hey, you got me until I saw you transform in front of me Danny! Don’t worry too much!” 

Danny smiled a soft smile at the boy. “Thanks Kwan.”

The goth cleared her throat to get everyone’s attention again. “Okay, so now we’re gonna do a vote. All for the hotel?” The latina, the blonde girl, and the asian boy all raised their hands. “Okay, and all for the manor.” Everyone else’s hands shot up, bringing it to a score of three to seven. “Looks like we’re going with the manor then.” She handed a paper bag to the african american boy who then proceeded to take deep breaths. He was in a long sleeve gold henley shirt, a pair of street-style pants with green accents and a red beanie. He also wore Doc Martens and a pair of glasses. 

“I’ll let Tim know that we’re going to go through with purchasing the manor. We should be able to get everything finalized and be ready to move in a month before classes start. Tucker set up a sheet for requests for custom things you may want or need for your rooms.” The boy breathing into the bag looked up and gave a thumbs up at mention of his name. “As for splitting up where people go, I was thinking that Danny, myself, Tucker and Valerie would stay in the Family wing, Jazz will inevitably move in so she can work at Arkham, and I doubt the rest of you want to deal with ghosts probably visiting at all hours of the day. The rest of you will be in the Guest wing. Any issues with that?” She raised an eyebrow at the group, no one spoke. “Cool. There’s a map of the building in those folders, figure out amongst yourselves who gets which room and fill out all the paperwork in the folders and the drive. We’ll meet up again in a week and figure out house rules.” Everyone turned to the folders in front of them. “I think we’re good now Wes, you can shut it off.”

“Sounds good, video log one down!” Said the tall redhead. Then the screen cuts to black.

Amity Parkers moving to Gotham for college. Sam and Paulina pooling their trust funds together to buy an abandoned hotel and fitting it as apartments for everybody. They all train together in the courtyard to keep their skills up and just because it's fun. Suddenly an influx of super competent self-trained (or maybe ghost-trained) young adults.

Everybody having their little niches and suddenly they all have more free time that's not being taken up by ghost attacks so many of them started different YouTube channels with info they found out from the ghostly residents of Amity. Star and Paulina running a history of beauty channel going over makeup, hair styles and fashion, special guest Sam when going over alt fashions. Dash and Kwan running one on the history of sports. Wes and Mikey running a conspiracy theory podcast. Valerie running a martial arts channel. Danny just info-dumping about space and spacecraft in videos that range from 45 minutes to four hours. Tucker running a how-to channel for fixing tech and coding. Sam running a combination true crime and witchy channel. The Trio running a Let's Play channel.

Ghostly things happening in all of the videos and everybody guesting on everybody else's channels leads to everybody thinking it's all an elaborate ARG. Danny just floating through the walls half-asleep with a glowing shaker bottle in the background. Some of them when they're in the middle of a rant seem to forget to take a breath or their eyes or freckles start glowing. On a livestream Paulina snaps at somebody off screen and her eyes are suddenly glowing green. Danielle pops in during a charity livestream that the Trio are running and calls Danny-Daddy, Sam-Mom, and Tucker-Dad and is just floating on the back of the couch. Danny doing a stream to watch a rocket take off and suddenly a robe and crown flash and he disappears in a flash of green and the stream is just dead space until the rocket's about to take off and Danny comes running in and jumps over the back of his chair to watch it and cheer.