#rogue hubs

[romiyaro]

Ro baby

10kgs can be gained like a snap at times lmaooo

0.0

no no u no understand. Bo gained 10 kg worth muscles- can u imagine that? Like,,, how? Eat 10 kg, shit 8 and gain 2 is fine- but holy damn that guy worked his ass off for muscles-

#fat #cuz we know bokuto isnt #he's muscular #and from experience ik that gaining muscles is vvv harder than gaining weigth #what is he an ox? #rogue talks #riri: my charles dickens #rogue hubs

[avenin7]

I made the Champions in Baulder’s Gate 3

#bg3 #the champions #botw champions #artbart #digital art #an experiment in coloring #my hubs said i should make revali a bard and im so mad hes right #i made him a rogue out of SPITE

[twelverriver]

Is it necessary to watch all the mission impossible movies or could someone just start with the first one Rebecca's in?

HI ANON GREAT QUESTION !!! i personally started with rogue nation, the first one she's in and i had no problems understanding anything. also starting with rogue nation is a great idea because in my expert opinion it is the best mission movie so you immediately get the best of the best!! and she's soo gorgeous and badass and amazing in it oh my god !!! so yeah, it is totally fine to start with mi5, rogue nation !!

#i've got mail💌 #anon #mission impossible #i looove that i got this ask cause that means i get to talk about how rogue nation is #also i just love being a hub for information for any fandom im in <3 #there's like one bit where you're like huh? which builds of the last movie but you don't need to have seen that bc they give u the info #you need also its like one minute #so all good !!

[elgaberino-mcoc]

Hyped: Hobgoblin

Hobgoblin has hype, including love from @MarvelChampions in #SummonersChoice2022. It was recently @MARVELSNAP who gave him his first real Marvel mobile game. 

The upgraded Goblin crime boss is #22 on the Wishlist. 

Click, search “Hobgoblin,” and vote

#Roderick Kingsley #Hobgoblin #Jason Macendale #Harry Osborn #Ned Leeds #Phil Urich #recent rank #organized crime #crime boss #Spider Man rogue #synergy hub #villain #goblins #mcoc class tech #mcoc class science #oscorp tech #Summoner's Choice '22 #other games #MCOCW page 1 1-25 #Marvel Snap #yellow skin

[theoutcastrogue]

My thoughts on the best strategies to preserve human knowledge and creation in perpetuity

1) don't put all your eggs in one basket

archives need to be paper and digital, public and private sector, centralised and decentralised, fully legal / by the book and rogue, in vaults and cabinets and servers and torrents

create as many redundancies as you can: make copies, and copies of the copies, and copies of the copies of the copies, ad nauseam; anyone anywhere who can make copies, should

spread the physical hubs (paper stacks or servers) geographically, in as many places as possible; you never know what kind of natural disaster or man-made horror will take out a whole building, city, region, or continent tomorrow

2) entropy is a bitch, think longterm

pick methods that are more likely to last

schedule regular copying: you gotta transfer the stuff to a new medium before the old one falls apart, so have some idea when it's expected to fall apart

3) keep converting to new formats

no format becomes obsolete instantly, there's always a transition period; use transition periods to furiously convert everything

4) indexing and searching is as important as the content itself

self-explanatory

5) eyes on the prize: the end goal is public access

if a random nobody, with no status and no money, can't access it easily, freely, and anonymously, the job is only half-done; you've built the back-end and neglected the front-end; get someone to complete it ASAP, because now it's just sitting pretty and isn't doing anything; or isn't doing enough, in any case

bonus: use. fucking. torrents.

It is truly bonkers that the bittorrent protocol is not being used for archiving. It's an ideal method for digital archiving and it should be standard procedure. If a university has stuff on a hard disk, it can put it on its server, and if it can put it on a server, it can torrent it and seed it 24/7. If the same archive is useful for another university on the other side of the planet, that one can download it and then stay in the swarm, also seeding it. If a library or city council anywhere on earth finds the archive of interest, it can do the same. The more the merrier, every download is a potential redundancy and every seeder is an actual redundancy.

If you got space to store it, you got space to share it. And of course, any private individual can at any time join the swarm. So we get excellent preservation (with multiple redundancies, spread far and wide geographically) AND public access, global and free, which is what preservation is FOR in the first place! It ain't for the heck of it, it ain't only for the eyes of the elite, it's for everyone, that's the purpose, that's the end goal. If that's not your end goal, you're doing it wrong.

#trs #theory #rogue tech #books #information wants to be free

[statsbot]

SITUATION In an alternate history where time travel has been invented, a cabal of time-traveling traders and politicians are engaged in intertemporal arbitrage, using their future knowledge to corner markets throughout history. They've recently set their sights on the oyster trade of 19th century New York City, hoping to use their advanced refrigeration tech and insider info to make a killing. But their actions are destabilizing the timeline and threatening to erase key historical figures from existence. The party must unravel this temporal trade network and confront the mysterious mastermind behind it all before irreparable damage is done to the space-time continuum.

SETTING The adventure spans multiple eras, but key events occur in:

New York City, 1842 - The booming oyster trade has made the city the oyster capital of the world. Oyster cellars line Canal Street, shucking a staggering 700 million oysters a year. The docks bustle with oystermen.

The Far Future Oyster Vaults of Neo-Nassau, 2891 AD - Towering refrigerated vaults hold trillions of perfectly preserved bivalves. Chrono-barges zip through pneumatic tubes overhead. Neon-lit canals crisscross the city.

The Temporal Trade Hub, Outside Time - A mind-bending nexus where past, present and future intersect. Causality-defying architecture shifts like a kaleidoscope. Traders haggle over price fluctuations yet to occur.

CAST

Crassus Rockefeller III - Robber baron, mastermind behind the Oyster Futures Syndicate. Seeks to monopolize history's oyster supply. Wields a Causality Anchor that stabilizes him in spacetime.

Vivian "Viv" Wellfleet - Rogue chrono-trader with a heart of gold. Wants to stop Crassus and restore the timeline. Former collegiate oyster shucking champion.

Shucker Jim - Grizzled 19th century oysterman. Secretly an undercover Chronoguard agent. Rocket harpoon prosthetic arm. Loyal but haunted by a tragic past.

The Muculent Sibyl - Prophetic oyster-human hybrid from an alternate timeline where oysters evolved sapience. Whispers maddening future-truths. Chained in Crassus' vault.

Ostreida, the Oyster Goddess - Eldritch bivalve deity worshipped by a future oyster-cult. Seeks to flood Earth's history, returning it to a primordial sea.

The Chronoguard - Temporal law enforcement. Hardened time-cops in chromed exo-suits. Seek to stop illegal intertemporal trade by any means necessary.

The Oystermen's Union - Tough New York oyster workers, their livelihoods threatened by future sabotage. Burly, bearded, and brawny. Know the oyster beds like the back of their callused hands.

INITIAL CONDITIONS The 19th century oyster trade is booming, but prices have started fluctuating wildly and oyster shortages loom due to temporal meddling. Anachronistic tech has been found in oyster beds. Strange future-cultists lurk in oyster cellars, preaching the coming of an Oyster God. The Chronoguard has dispatched agents to 1842 to investigate, but Crassus' syndicate has a head start and deep pockets. The timeline is already fraying at the edges - historic oyster-lovers like Queen Victoria are fading from existence. The players arrive in old New York to find a temporal powder keg ready to blow.

GOALS

Crassus Rockefeller III - Corner the oyster market across all of history, making trillions. Ascend to economic godhood.

Vivian "Viv" Wellfleet - Stop Crassus, restore the original timeline, save the future. Maybe shuck some oysters along the way.

Shucker Jim - Complete his mission, avenge his partner, keep the space-time continuum safe from rogue traders and their greed.

The Muculent Sibyl - Escape her imprisonment, reveal cosmic truths, bring about the Oyster Singularity her visions foretell.

Ostreida, the Oyster Goddess - Flood Earth's history, make the world a oyster's paradise. Destroy upstart humanity.

The Chronoguard - Arrest Crassus and his cronies, stop the temporal trade in its tracks, preserve the integrity of the timeline.

The Oystermen's Union - Protect their way of life, drive out strange future interlopers, keep oyster prices stable and bellies full.

TOOLS/RESOURCES

Crassus Rockefeller III - Vast wealth, future tech, Causality Anchor, bribed officials across eras, oyster futures contracts.

Vivian "Viv" Wellfleet - Heirloom chrono-compass, knack for disguise, knowledge of oyster lore, her trusty quantum-shucking knife.

Shucker Jim - Rocket harpoon arm, Chronoguard combat training, 19th century street smarts, loyal oystermen contacts.

The Muculent Sibyl - Precognition, psychic whispers, eldritch oyster magic, fanatical mollusk-hybrid cultists.

Ostreida, the Oyster Goddess - Divine bivalve powers, oyster monster hordes, tidal magic, beachhead temples across history.

The Chronoguard - Jurisdiction across spacetime, stun-harpoons, chrono-cuffs, hardened exo-suits, orbital trawler-ships.

The Oystermen's Union - Strength in numbers, intricate knowledge of oyster beds, sturdy oyster boats, shucking solidarity.

SAMPLE SOLUTIONS

Infiltrate Crassus' syndicate posing as fellow traders, destabilize his operations from within while searching for evidence of his crimes. Coordinate with Chronoguard to arrest him in a dramatic sting.

Rally the Oystermen's Union to sabotage future tech and resist the Syndicate's strong-arm tactics. Stage a general strike to force the city to crack down on rogue traders.

Beat Crassus at his own game by cornering the oyster market first. Flood the market with your own supply via time travel, tanking prices and ruining his monopoly.

Cut a deal with Ostreida, brokering a compromise where oysters and humans can coexist across history. Use her power to threaten Crassus into surrendering.

Rescue the Muculent Sibyl and convince her to aid you with her prescient visions. Navigate the fluctuating timeways to always stay one step ahead of Crassus and his goons.

#ttrpg #campaign #dnd campaign #homebrew #tabletop #campaign idea #dggbot

[virginiaoflykos]

What to read after Light Bringer? (Series similar to Red Rising)

August 2023 update!

Red Rising is my favorite series of all time, and since I first read it, I have sought series and books similar in both spirit and execution. Some of these recs are books I haven’t read personally, but have often come up in discussions with other users!

1. The Stormlight Archive by Brandon Sanderson

Status: ongoing, expected 10 books in total, 4/10 out at the moment

Book 1: The Way of Kings. The Way of Kings takes place on the world of Roshar, where war is constantly being waged on the Shattered Plains, and the Highprinces of Alethkar fight to avenge a king that died many moons ago.

2. The Craft Sequence by Max Gladstone

Status: finished, 6/6 books out.

Book 1 (in publication order): Three Parts Dead. Comprised of 6 standalone books set in the same universe, the Craft Sequence tells the tales of the city of Alt Coulumb. The city came out of the God Wars with one of its gods intact, Kos the Everburning. In return for the worship of his people, Kos provides heat and steam power to the citizens of Alt Coulumb; he is also the hub of a vast network of power relationships with other gods and god-like beings across the planet. Oh, and he has just died. If he isn’t revived in some form by the turn of the new moon, the city will descend into chaos and the finances of the globe will take a severe hit.

3. Hierarchy by James Islington

Status: ongoing, 1/3 planned books out

Book 1: The Will of the many. The Will of the Many tells the story of Vis, a young orphan who is adopted by one of the sociopolitical elites of the Hierarchy. Vis is tasked with entering a prestigious magical academy with one goal – ascend the ranks, figure out what the other major branches of the government are doing, and report back. However, that isn’t quite as easy as Vis or anyone else thought it was going to be…

4. Suneater by Christopher Ruocchio

Status: ongoing, 5/7 books out

Book 1: Empire of Silence. Hadrian is a man doomed to universal infamy after ordering the destruction of a sun to commit an unforgivable act of genocide. Told as a chronicle written by an older Hadrian, Empire of Silence details his earlier adventures and serves as an introduction to the characters and the setting.

5. Dune by Frank Herbert

Status: completed, 6/6 books out

Book 1: Dune. Set in the distant future amidst a feudal interstellar society in which various noble houses control planetary fiefs. It tells the story of young Paul Atreides, whose family accepts the stewardship of the planet Arrakis. While the planet is an inhospitable and sparsely populated desert wasteland, it is the only source of melange, or "spice", a drug that extends life and enhances mental abilities.

6. The Expanse by James S A Corey

Status: completed, 9/9 books out

Book 1: Leviathan wakes. Set hundreds of years in the future, after mankind has colonized the solar system. A hardened detective and a rogue ship's captain come together for what starts as a missing young woman and evolves into a race across the solar system to expose the greatest conspiracy in human history.

7. The First Law by Joe Abercrombie

Status: completed. 3 books in the original trilogy + 3 standalone books + 3 books in the newest trilogy

Book 1: The Blade Itself. The story follows the fortunes and misfortunes of bad people who do the right thing, good people who do the wrong thing, stupid people who do the stupid thing and, well, pretty much any combination of the above. Survival is no mean feat, and at the end of the day, dumb luck might be more of an asset than any amount of planning, skill, or noble intention.

8. Cradle by Will Wight

Status: completed, 12/12 books out

Book 1: Unsouled. Lindon is Unsouled, forbidden to learn the sacred arts of his clan. When faced with a looming fate he cannot ignore, he must rise beyond anything he's ever known...and forge his own Path

9. Hyperion Cantos by Dan Simmons (one PB’s favorites)

Status: completed, 4/4 books out

Book 1: Hyperion. The story weaves the interlocking tales of a diverse group of travelers sent on a pilgrimage to the Time Tombs on Hyperion. The travelers have been sent by the Church of the Final Atonement, alternately known as the Shrike Church, and the Hegemony (the government of the human star systems) to make a request of the Shrike. As they progress in their journey, each of the pilgrims tells their tale.

#red rising #golden son #morning star #pierce brown #dark age #iron gold #light bringer #what to read #book rec #book recommendation #books #stormlight archive #hyperion cantos #craft sequence #the expanse #hierarchy #the will of the many #first law #suneater #sun eater #dune #cradle series

[inknopewetrust]

𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎

summary: you are recruited to the spider society after conducting a batch of vigilante actions against the men who killed your husband, miguel and well... their leader isn’t like the man you remembered.

pairing: miguel o’hara x spider-woman!reader [wc: 12.7k]

warnings: language. this has got everything: backstory, meeting, conflict, angst, sadness, tie-ins with the film, (i hope you're reading this in a stefon voice), ethical dilemmas, vigilante shit, violence, romantic love strains, etc., etc.

Manhattan was rainy. It was always rainy.

But let’s do this again, shall we?

The skyline was high. Muddled variants of blues and reds, the colors that had painted your life for a decade now. It was silly to imagine a world of color beyond that–it's all you knew, you had nothing left.

And all of that nothing was the consequences of the dealings of a few bad men.

You breathed in deep. They were right there, right below your feet.

Their laughter in their indifference to life was vexing. It made your blood broil and bubble to the surface where you thought your eyes may have been red and your grip on the stone building was onerous.

In the distance, police sirens blared across the city where crime did not take a backseat because their most treasure hero was rogue. People were in trouble but you saw cessation of hope with every second that passed and those in charge did nothing to avenge your husband.

Husband. Nevertheless, what you had was gone and never coming home to you. The least you could do was try to find the justice to be brought by your own hands.

"Nah, man..." One of the men–a blonde, high-tech worker from the east side of town–shook his head. "We can't go there. They've got cameras all over the place! Ain't no way we are gettin' out free."

"Well then we go downtown and hit one alongside the river. We'll set up a boat and get us to Brooklyn before they can even suspect anyone was there," another collaborator said. Blondie shook his head determined.

"You think Spider-Girl isn't gonna be waitin' for us?" He scoffed, scuffing his shoes against the pavement. You perched straighter as you peered down. Spider-Woman. It was Spider-Woman.

“She got Mikey last week, Simon two days ago… we don’t have much left and if you think robbin’ fuckin’ Wall Street is gonna save us, you’re wrong.”

A sensible criminal with blood on his hands. Nice.

“Besides, they got the police captain on her ass and while they’re out lookin’ for her, they won’t sweat the small stuff,” blondie pulled a black ski mask from his jacket.

“It’s now or never,” he slipped it on and walked to the door of the bodega on the corner. He held out his hand as if his friend was actually a true friend and not a piece to his own networked puzzle.

Your stomach turned and the sight made your spine tingle.

Outside on the sidewalk of the street in the rain of New York City, the two men who were left of the dirty dozen walked into the grocer with no intention to buy anything.

It hadn’t dawned on you that as you dropped to the pavement, you weren’t wearing your suit or mask.

The hub was quiet.

In this slick world, everything was silver and green and the headquarters were no different — yet too different for Peter to know that he wasn’t from this universe and always felt out of place.

A picture on desk that wasn’t his grounded him to a separate reality; one of love and hope and a small child’s laughter.

Spider-Byte’s was typing away on the keys beside him while he tapped away on the table top.

Nothing exciting had happened since the… glitch. It had been a long nine months without the glue that had put him back together.

That was until Spider-Byte’s computer started beeping in a manic fashion. It was a sound neither of them had heard before. A high pitched siren blaring loudly from a machine the the left of Peter, a button glowing red and flashing.

“Uh,” Peter pointed to the button, “you got any clue what that’s about?”

Spider-Byte shook her head as she pulled up a database on a screen. Her tech hands glided over the keys like music, fluid and fast and working with a purpose.

“Some system Miguel’s got here,” she muttered and Peter attempted to cover the small speaker beside the button with his hand—it didn’t work.

“Where is he? He said he’d be right back and now we’re facing the end of the wor—“

“I doubt this is the end of the world, Peter!” Spider-Byte cut him off harshly. “Now would you be useful and go find Miguel?”

As the dutiful Spider-Person he was, Peter rushed out of the central lair and into the bright white halls of the headquarters. Everyone he passed he asked the same question:

“Hey! You’ve seen Miguel anywhere?”

“Yo! Seen the big man around?”

He slid up to a group of variant Julia Carpenters as they sipped on coffee in the cafeteria. Peter gave them a sly smirk, trying to be cool, and snapped his fingers.

“Have any of you seen the boss today? Looking fine as usual.”

Synchronized, the Julia’s pointed to the empanada station and sure as shit, there was Miguel, talking with the vender who yes, just happened to also be a Spider-Man.

“Miguel!” Peter screeched from the table and Miguel’s mind went soured. A violent jolt to his instincts as the new father came barreling toward him.

“¡At no…!” Miguel mumbled to himself as Peter skidded to a halt, dropping his hand on Miguel’s shoulder with a clunk.

“Hey, Boss! Whatcha… watcha doin’ out here?” Peter chuckled nervously and Miguel narrowed his eyes. “You said you’d be right back.”

“I did,” Miguel drawled. “I told you five minutes and it’s only been three, Peter.”

Peter laughed, glancing around the space as confused gazes began to pick up on the pebbles of sweat that dripped from his temple.

“Oh! You don’t say?”

“What’s so impo—“ Miguel began but never finished. Lyla appeared out of thin air with a casual urgency unlike Peter’s frantic one.

“We’ve got a doozy here for ya, boss.”

With Lyla, everything came to life smoothly. As she snapped her fingers, holograms of screens appeared like magic and on them, an un-masked, Spider-Woman was beating the shit out of thieves in a bodega.

“Jesus,” Peter whispered to himself.

“He doesn’t come here,” Miguel replied without a smile nor a chuckle but it took Peter back.

Miguel was watching the woman carefully. This Spider-Woman was not apart of the society and was actively doing what no Spider-Person should do. However, Miguel knew the actions. He felt them deep within his bones and the mistakes he had made as a newly minted Spider-Man 2099.

“Name’s Y/n L/n… a former nurse who got mixed up in a bad batch of blood for a transfusion. This isn’t the first time we’ve been alerted about her,” Lyla debriefed and Miguel snapped.

“What do you mean, ‘not the first time?’”

“These are a group of men she’s been targeting. It’s got to do with her,” Lyla cleared her throat that was nonexistent, “canon event.”

“We have to bring her in,” Miguel began walking away from Peter and Lyla followed. “I am NOT having some vigilante shit show up on this doorstep. Peter, get Jess, brief her and get a day pass to bring along.”

“Miguel,” Peter wagered, “what if this is associated with her canon? What if she’s just an anti-hero in her world?”

“She’s not,” Lyla piped back in. “She’s a hero, hero. And this isn’t part of her canon event. You’ve gotta know how grief moves people?”

Miguel grunted, Peter sighed.

“Get Jess. I’ll wait for you,” Miguel pushed on Peter’s shoulder to send him the other way.

Once alone and down the winding halls near the center of the headquarters, Lyla spoke again perched on Miguel’s shoulder.

“Miguel, I think there’s something you should know?”

“Know what, Lyla?” Miguel’s attitude had always been sour—she had been there from his creation and it never changed. He never truly smiled, he never truly laughed.

Miguel O’Hara was a tough nut to crack in a world full of people who lived off joy and laughter.

But she could feel the sensations radiating off of him. Those strident lines of afflictions that were masked by the way he covered his face. The tense nature of his shoulders as he walked further and further away but closer to a person he’d never thought to face again.

It felt like an intrusion all over again.

“You know what, Lyla?”

“I know what you’re thinking,” she defended, hologramed hand squeezing his shoulder. “But there are a million Peter’s and Gwen’s and MJ’s out there.”

“This isn’t her,” Miguel huffed. “She would never do this.”

“But she is, Miguel… and her canon event is you.”

“So a possible disruption?”

“It’s already happened,” Lyla explained, giving immediate explanation to your actions. Miguel did not know you in this way, but he could imagine why such feelings would manifest in violence.

“Good, good.”

Lyla scoffed, hopping to her feet. “I wouldn’t say it’s ‘good,’ boss. You died in her world. You were married in her world. I think she’s gonna wanna slap you for even existing in another timeline.”

“Why?” Miguel quirked a brow. “You know her or something? Keeping secrets from me now?”

To save her, Peter and Jess entered the lair with their bands glowing. Lyla simply shrugged and disappeared before they jumped into an Earth that would feel like they own but be nothing like it.

“Miguel," Jess was already shaking her head. Three months pregnant and still doing work, both Peter and Miguel would not be surprised if the child arrived wearing a suit of their own. "There's no anomaly there–there hasn't been a case in that world of a villain glitching from another."

"It's not about the bad guys," Miguel walked toward them to meet them in the middle. "What she's doing no Spider-Person has done before and what's the purpose of a society if we don't help one of our own?"

Lyla appeared between the three ready to open the portal.

"One last thing, folks!" She walked around casually glowing and pushed up her heart shaped glasses to her hairline. "She's not wearing her suit - so if you don't work fast, her identity will be known to the public and well! We just can't have that, can we?"

"Fantastic!" Peter complained as Miguel opened up the portal. "They are a bit suffocating really, if you asked me."

"Well we didn't," Miguel gruffed.

"What's her name? Just Spider-Woman?" Jess asked. "Should we just yell 'Hey! Spider-Woman! Stop it! You're actually a good person!'"

"Y/n. Her name is Y/n and don't freeze up when you see her, alright bud? Alright! See you all when you get back! Have fun!" Lyla waved, patting Miguel's leg as she walked the floor and disappeared once more.

Stretching out his legs, Peter did not miss the glare Miguel gave Lyla. His eyes cold and hardened; he knew so little of this leader but felt he knew so much. Miguel wasn't like the other Spider-People and well, he assumed perhaps you were not either.

Peter missed that he should have recognized your name.

He had been there with Miguel when the other world collapsed.

"Anything else you wanna tell us, boss?" He pushed. Miguel shook his head and slipped on his mask in more ways than one.

"She's disturbing her own canon by going rogue. I'm not going to let her destroy it because she's... upset."

Jess laughed and Miguel was indignant. "If she's a bad egg, she's a bad egg, Miguel. You can't save everyone."

"She's not a bad one!" Miguel scolded her, pointing out toward the darkness of the portal. "She's not supposed to do this and we need to fix this! Y/n is good!"

Peter smirked, wiggling his brows. He could sense Miguel's anger muddled with a nervous fear he never had. "Y/n, Miguel... first name basis already and we haven't even met her. You move fast, don't you?"

"Oh, you are so fucking annoying! She was my wife!"

Peter's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. "Oh no! Not again, nope!"

"She doesn't exist in this world anymore, Peter," Earth 928, "and in another timeline, she's taken the mantle."

Jess jutted her hip out as the whirring of the portal loomed over them. "So you exist in her's too then? This won't be too confusing. It's just like Peter and MJ or Gwen in the thousands of realities that exist."

"Sure, sure," Miguel said. "But there are only three realities where she exists and," he cleared his throat as he looked down the portal, "this is the last one left."

"We shouldn't risk it. We can't collapse another world."

"We won't collapse it."

"How do you know that?" Peter questioned. There was always a level of selfishness when it came to those someone loved most.

"I just... I just know! You're not in charge here, Peter. If I don't have any hesitations right now, then neither can you."

"Well then," Peter strutted through the portal and turned around before his body was completely gone, "Let's go get us another Spidey then, yeah?"

And he saluted Miguel and Jess before jumping in.

"You've been monitoring her world?" Jess asked and Miguel looked to his feet. She had never seen him so bashful. Never one to make a scene of rash emotional actions, the causation would need

"I watch over many worlds."

"Yeah but come on," She dug, "this is a lot different than those worlds. You know her."

"I don't know her," Miguel defended himself and took a step further into the portal. "She isn't my wife. She's just a version of her that I don't know."

"Mhm," Jess hummed and drummed on her arm as they remained crossed from the moment Miguel said you were his wife. "Let's go meet her then. Then you can go on and on about how she's everything you remember but not the same."

And she walked through the portal before she disappeared to leave Miguel alone.

With clenched fists, Miguel breathed in deep and appeared in a reality he promised never to interfere with.

Inside of the bodega, the two men bartered with one another in the aisle. They looked to be two friends having a conversation in the middle of the shop but their intentions were not pure.

The bell above the door rang as you entered. Shoulders and hair wet from the rain, the cashier paid you no mind as he changed the station on his portable radio sat on the counter.

There were three civilians inside. One, the cashier who was oblivious and that is the sole reason these thugs decided to hit the bodega. An 'easy' target to get in and out. Two, a woman who was going grey at her temples. And three, a teenage kid with untied sneakers.

You ducked behind a shelf as you watched them in the aisle beside you. Between the chips and pretzels they concocted their idiotic plan in the presence of innocent people as they always did–it was how their bank robbery disaster went sideways six months ago.

When civilians are present, one of them will always try and become the hero. It is what Miguel did and now he's six feet under in a cold box.

"Excuse me, Miss," the older woman pointed to the bag of chips that your hand was resting on. She turned your attention away from the men. "Could I get one of those? I don't mean to be a–"

The men began to make their moves and you were distracted by the woman. She had kind eyes. Easy and familiar and a familial feeling to them as she waited patiently for you to move.

"Yes, yes," you replied as you got out of her way. "Sorry."

You didn't know why you apologized. Maybe you felt sorry she found herself in this bodega at an hour such as this.

"No worries, dear." The boy wasn't far from her either. He was shuffling through a freezer looking for a drink that wasn't there.

As she grabbed onto the bag, the radio dropped to the floor and turned off. It startled everyone inside and the cashier filled the silence with his desperate pleas.

"Oh my," his jaw chattered, "please... I don't have anything.... I-I-I I've gotta lot of student lo-o-oans and I really n-need this job."

He was staring into a silver barrel of a gun by the hands of the blonde who orchestrated everything. The older woman screeched behind you and the freezer door slammed shut with a "oh hell no!" following its thud.

You imagined the fear they felt was the same Miguel felt that day. Sitting there, hostage on the bank floor with a check to cash from his mother for his birthday.

The check was in evidence splattered with his blood.

In the neon light of the bodega, you made a choice to never let that happen again.

The cashier kept muttering whole-hearted pleas and the friend reached over the counter to open the register's drawer but it was locked.

"Unlock it!" Blondie ordered, shaking the gun closer and closer to the cashier who looked close to wetting himself. Behind you, the older woman crouched to the floor began praying to herself.

"Unlock it now, you son-of-a-bitch! You wanna end up on the floor? Open it!"

The cashier, who now you realized had a name badge on that read 'Max', began to reach for the keys that were hooked onto the counter.

Fear in his eyes, anticipation in theirs, anger in yours.

Anger always caused the tides to turn.

You reached your hand forward in a quick motion and the web that released itself from your wrist snatched the keys from the hook. Max flew backwards in a jolt of despair and the barrel was soon pointed at you.

"Oh you have got to be kidding!" Blondie screeched and fired a shot. He missed. It was sent right into a chip bag and exploded them all over the floor. You tossed the keys to the older woman and went for the gun.

Like child's play, the gun flew across the bodega and into your palm to be crushed like a piece of fruit. It was still hot from being fired and its pieces crumbled to the floor.

"What the fuck–" the woman stuttered.

"So," Blondie spoke and you hated his tone. Condescending and mighty. "Spider-Woman has a face..."

This friend pulled a bracelet from his pocket that lit up green. It glowed as brightly as the neon signs in the window blurred by the rain.

"She does," you replied. "And it will be the last face you see."

He laughed. They always did. It was an inescapable pattern of dealing with enemies who thought they would win. They never did, and they all thought the same way.

"Is that so? I would really hate to have the Bugle's headline to read: Spider-Woman killed innocent civilians at the 6th street Bodega." He let out a series of tisks with a shake of his head. "Who knew heroes could be so bad?"

He looked to his friend. "Herman..."

The friend, Herman, locked eyes on you and approached quickly and with a heavy hand charging with the green of the gauntlet. You could hearing the whirring and the loading of the power.

Instead of moving out of the way, you turned and pushed the older woman away. She slid on the slick floor into a corner with her bag of chips still in her hand.

The shock hit you with a staggering power. It blew you backwards into an ice freezer in the back of the store. As you landed on the ground, the woman whimpered in the corner and the boy caught your eye underneath a table by the restrooms.

He couldn't have been more than fifteen.

And he wasn't going to die today.

So, you got back on your feet and brushed off your jacket. The residual sting of the shock began to wear off and the men looked at you with a challenge.

"Who knew fighting the Spider would have been so easy?" Blondie laughed. "Where were you when we started? It would have been a much more fair fight."

"Busy," you spat.

"Huh," he hummed with a nod of his head. It was like he was trying to clock you–the way his eyes squinted and he tilted his head just a bit higher than it normally would have been. "Say, have we met before?"

"I'm sure I would remember. This is certainly a pleasurable encounter."

Blondie didn't let the words sting. You weren't a Spider who stung with a bite.

"I've seen your face before..."

"Maybe I just have one of those faces," you quirked a brow and Herman charged his gauntlet again. "Is this the worst you can do? Threaten a few innocents and have your friend do all the work? What happened to real criminals, huh?"

"Funny," he walked like a villain. Hands in his pockets, shoes scuffing the floor. "I've heard that one before." His mind raked the last time he heard that.

"Well it must say something about you then."

Herman went to shock again and you shot a web at him. He went soaring into a wall, head hitting it hard.

"I know!" He snapped his fingers like a lightbulb went off inside. Clarity now in a world filled of unclear ways. "I've seen your picture before."

"So what?" You matched his movements as he moved toward the center of the store. Every tight aisle blocked your view like a shutter.

"'Is this the worst you can do?' Someone told me that a short time ago. A man who tried to get in my way."

Miguel.

He was at the bank. He had his check ready, he was at the counter. Miguel had his wallet out and prepared.

He had a photo in his wallet.

"And I think you know how that turned out for him. But here's the thing, Spider-Woman... I don't hate the idea of having that same fate met you tonight. I imagine being so deep underneath the ground it gets a little lonely."

He stopped at the center, so did you.

"I think it's time for you to join him."

But all you saw was red.

There was an intense pulsing pressure inside of the bodega. You weren't sure how much time had passed as your fist dug deeper and deeper into the man who spoke too much and had little to act upon.

Whimpers of those left inside were deferred. The begging of his friend fell on deaf ears.

In the corner beside the three civilians–the woman, teen, and cashier–a glowing hexagonal portal opened to the dimension in which they lived. It hummed like a freezer and moved like something from the cinema they watched last year but instead of aliens appearing from the abyss, three people emerged no different than the way they walked.

They were people, human. Three Spider-People in a world that already had a Spider-Woman.

In their perspective the heroes were welcome. They were terrified and huddled within one another as one robber was webbed to the wall and the other was being beaten to a pulp by a woman with super-human strength.

"Peter," Miguel motioned to the civilians in the corner, "get 'em out of here."

The humble servant Peter was, he acted quickly. His nervous high-pitched voice soothing their fears with panic and disbelief that three masked people walked through a portal as though it was any other day.

"Get the man down, Jess," Miguel pointed to the guy webbed to the wall. Jess tipped her head to the side with an amused, sly grin on her face as he wept. Chick's a badass, she thought.

A violent one at the moment, albeit, but a badass nonetheless.

Fist hovered in the air, you went rigid as the sensations coursed through you. A striking feeling that felt more like a severe headache that came on too quickly, the immense pressure your body suddenly took on wasn't unfamiliar.

You had felt them before. It happened when something in the air changed. When something you knew could disappear or when time was suddenly running short. There was no term for it nor did any other person in this world feel what you felt.

The man below you gurgled. It was, just like the sensation, a sound that awoken something within you. It cleared the vision from red to reality and suddenly the harsh lighting of the bodega and the reflections of the neon signs on the linoleum filled in the edges.

"Shit," you stammered as your grip on his body lessened with every second.

Those consistent strums of radiating itching went from the top of your head to the base of your skull. A humming in the distance turned into a whirring sound that was too extraneous to come from a small place such as this one.

In an instant, the aluminum window covers were pulled from the ceiling by a pair of red, glowing lines reminiscent of webs. It shut out the outside world and the rain that had been pouring down for hours. The neon lights no longer reflected themselves on the flooring.

A hero, a villain... at some point those had all become the same to you.

The ideas that propelled them to act were all based in something that made them feel passionate enough to target an opposing force. When a hero turns to the fragmented middle of the road and balances the line of enemy and friend, the revelations of such shame grow from a deeper place of pain.

"Let him go."

The voice in your head sounded so much like Miguel.

And once your senses stopped going wild, your heart lept into your throat at the thought.

You buried him. You buried him six feet under.

The door to the bodega's alley opened and closed.

"Come on," the voice said again, "let him go and we can clean up this mess."

"Stop," you mumbled, shutting your eyes as your fists clenched the man's jacket harder. The one that had been in the air dropped to his chest. It was wet with the mixture of sweat and blood.

"Stop it please. Please stop it."

"Those civilians are gonna go get the police," his voice was low. It was that kind of voice that Miguel would use to talk you down from a nightmare–or maybe what this dimension had made you.

"And when they get here, what do you think they're gonna do when they see you sittin' over him?"

"Stop talking, stop talking, stop talking–" you repeated again and again. A thud in the distance set the blonde's friend on the floor and a web kept him in place once more.

"Boss they're gonna take her," another voice, not one you had ever head before filled the room and suddenly you were terrified that it wasn't voices you were hearing in your head. "We gotta bring her back with us."

"Alright! Three darling innocents saved again by, you guessed it," a far too cheerful voice added to the collection, "me."

You were curled into yourself over the blonde. Peter saw a woman, not dressed in a traditional uniform, use her powers for bad. But he saw the destruction of the man and knew that it wasn't from sheer wickedness.

He had seen you care so much before. It had to come from a place of caring.

"Well," he cleared his throat, "this is... a lot." And then he blanched.

"Jess," Miguel motioned to your static figure. He turned around and walked away as if to say 'you got it.'

There was an inflection in his voice that made Jess bristle. She hated the tone; removed and vacant. He was already living a humorless existence and the idea that this dimension made you act this way fractured himself in a new way.

"You heard him," Peter went scouring the aisles, plucking a bag of dried beef from a shelf to shove his mouth with. "You got this!" He gave a half-hearted thumbs up.

So, Jess had this.

She didn't crouch down. She didn't attempt to place a hand on your shoulder or help clean off your hands.

Jess kneeled on the other side of the man and your distant eyes met hers to know you weren't alone. You weren't alone in your pain and you certainly weren't alone in this world.

Your first thought was that she was pretty. Your second thought was that this woman was pregnant and that made you sad.

"Looks like you've gotten yourself in a bit of a mess," she spoke quietly but acted quickly. She placed her fingers on the pulse of the man.

He was breathing.

"Who are you?"

"Name's Jess."

"Jess," you repeated, "and Jess comes from...?"

She saw your lip tremble, eyes welling with tears. Jesus, she thought, she wasn't ready to be a mother if she couldn't deal with a thirty-something spider-woman who happened to be Miguel's wife in three different dimensions.

"Earth–404."

"Earth?"

"You felt that, right?" She motioned to her head, mimicking a tingling sensation with her fingertips. You nodded.

"Well, a lot of us have it... and I mean people like you and me... and I know it makes no sense, but if you can fight mutant enemies, maybe you can imagine there are other worlds out there."

"Like planets?" You sniffed and your hands began to shake. Everything bubbling to the surface of pain and anger. "You're from another planet?"

"Not really, but kinda, sure," she agreed for your sake.

"And your friends?"

"Different planets too."

You breathed in a shaking breath. Somewhere in the distance, you could hear the sirens begin to blare. It may have been 10 blocks or 6 blocks, but they were coming and they were coming in fast.

"Now," Jess cleared her throat, "it looks like you've gotten yourself in a little situation that needs a bit of help."

Jess was the most sympathetic she had ever been. The way your hands shook, your tiredness expanded beyond you. Maybe it was the fact she knew what made you go off the deep end that made her feel more thoughtful.

"They, um-"

"It's ok," Jess said and didn't let you finish. "We just need to get you somewhere safe, ok? Me and my friends can help you."

The sheen in your eyes was cloudy. Face wet and brushed with splatter of a man who was not yours, there was a lifeline to get you out of here and you had to take it.

You shook your head softly before it became more frantic. "I don't have anyone to go to... I don't have anyone."

"You do," her hand hovered over the man's body as Peter came back and lowered himself beside Jess. "You're gonna have a whole group behind you if you let us help."

"We'll get you all cleaned up and then introduce you. There is a whole universe of us out there."

"Us?"

"Spider-People?" He questioned, brows furrowed. Jess hadn't been explicit.

"A society," she drew back from Peter. "Like myself and Peter," indirectly introducing him, "and you and–" she stopped short.

"And you want me there?"

"Yeah," Peter said. "I mean, we could use some more badass Spider-Women around."

"But I–"

"Don't worry about all this, alright? We all have our moments."

Peter reached out his hand for you to take. There was a certain level of hesitancy you felt; perhaps it was a trick or maybe you were trapped in another nightmare. But Peter gave a small smile. He gave off a warmth that Jess had exuded and made you nearly forget that there were three voices and not their two.

You took Peter's hand.

The man was breathing, he would live even if he didn't deserve to. The sirens were no more than 3 blocks away.

"You gonna need one of these," Jess held out her hand to reveal a rubber bracelet.

"A day pass," she explained, "to help you adjust."

"Adjust?"

"It's better to ask fewer questions," Peter scrunched his face. "Less confusion for you."

You slipped on the bracelet.

"We good here?"

It was that voice again, the one from the back of your head.

"We gotta go. Time is ticking."

Except this voice wasn't the back of your head now that you've realized there were others in this bodega. As you rose from the floor and began walking as Jess led the way, the friend was passed out on the floor and a glowing hexagonal portal was lingering in the back of the store.

The sounds, the sensations... it meant something.

"All good, Boss. The robbers will live."

The man in the blue suit–from what you could tell–nodded and looked in your direction but said nothing. There was something in your body that was sending alarm bells to your mind but you ignored them.

They weren't like the sensations you had felt before. These were different in a way you couldn’t explain.

“Right let’s, ah,” he hesitated as his hands rested on his hips. You looked at him and he looked away. “Get moving then.”

“What’s going to happen when I go through that thing?” You pointed to the portal.

He didn’t look at you. He couldn’t look at you. All he saw was his wife who used to laugh at his corny jokes and rest her head on his shoulder in bed. He saw, in one dimension, the mother of his child and he saw a happy, generous nurse who loved her job.

But when he looked at you know, part of that image was shattered.

You were a little bit broken and a little bit worn down by the world you lived in. You had blood-splattered clothing and tear stained cheeks and it was enough to make his heart ache more than it already did.

“It will pop you out just where we want you,” Peter said as he took a step into the portal and his body began to glitch with the moving sphere around him. “Just walk in and it will do the rest.”

“And it’s safe?”

“So far, yeah!” And he ran off before he disappeared.

“I’ll see you there, alright?” Jess turned to you, then looked at Blue before giving a smile that was as flat as a dead man’s heart beat.

She walked in just as suave as she came.

Suddenly, it was just the two of you and it felt strange.

There were so many feelings lingering that you couldn’t grasp onto. The air was comfortable but hesitant; there was a barrier of distrust and burden, but one that itched to reach out a hand to help.

“You know,” you sniffed back a chuckle, “I half thought I was crazy for a second.”

“About what?” He asked. “The fact that you almost killed a man or the portals? Both are equally crazy.”

In any other circumstance you would have thought he was being sarcastic.

You shook your head. You were beginning to feel the weight of your actions.

“I thought I heard voices… a voice in my head.”

“Mhm.”

“Yeah,” you glanced at the portal.

A lull. The whirring of the portal, the sounds of police cars went mute when you looked back. Blue was looking at you but you couldn’t see his eyes. You couldn’t see a thing and indeed, you didn’t know his name.

Blue.

Miguel’s favorite color was blue.

“Thank you,” you said earnestly. “For coming here. I think I’m still a bit shell-shocked,” you laughed and he knew you were, “but maybe I was waiting for this… I don’t know.”

“It’s our job.”

Blue was done with the conversation at that point. He walked to the portal, his body glitching just like Peter and Jess’s did.

“Come on,” he motioned to you.

“What’s your name? The other two—they introduced themselves.”

“Spider-Man.”

“That’s not your name.”

He let out a huff. “You wanna be caught by the police? Fine.” He began walking again and the glitching became more erratic.

“Who’s to say you’re all not some group of aliens trying to kidnap me? At least the other two looked like me!”

His patience too was skating on thin ice.

“Come on, kid, let’s go.”

Maybe you weren’t crazy.

“What did you just say?”

He turned his body back to you and walked out of the portal. On the precipice of where you stood just beyond and where he did, he towered over you.

“I’m giving you a chance here. You come with me now or you’re dead here.”

“Kid. You said ‘kid.’ Why did you say that? Why did you say I was a kid?”

“I didn’t mean it like that, let’s go.” Like a rhythmic pattern, he turned back around.

“I’m not crazy. I know I’m not fucking crazy.” You sure as hell looked it. “Why did you say kid? Who told you to call me kid?”

“No one—“

A sudden banging on the door to the bodega caught the attention left in the room. Blondie started to gurgle, you stood steadfast, and Blue was agitated.

You took a step into the portal. Progress.

“Nobody calls me kid, no one. Why won’t you tell me your name? Who the hell are you people? Who are you?”

“We don’t have time for this!” The way he said your name that followed was one you had heard a million times.

It was just like Miguel used to say.

“Take off your mask.” You demanded and stepped further again.

“Take off your fucking mask or I’m stepping out of this goddamn thing and going to prison.”

The police began to feverishly hit the glass with their batons.

“Take it off,” you begged, “please. Please let me see you.”

And how could he say no to his wife who begged so mercilessly?

There was a time where you replayed that moment over and over in your mind.

You could still feel the way your breath caught in your chest. An immense wave of emptiness washed from you and filled with a jittery dismay that had no outlet.

His eyes were no different; the way his lips sat and his brow furrowed.

You felt the silent shed of tears mask your face before the glass breaking set Miguel moving toward you, grabbing your hand and pulling you through the portal.

His touch was the same.

And when he opened his mouth, what he sounded like was different from what he said and you were quick to realize that this Miguel was not your Miguel.

This Miguel despised people who lived happy lives.

This Miguel was mean and callous and demanding

This Miguel worked beyond reasonable hours and made being a Spider-Man his life’s purpose.

That was not your Miguel.

There was no making sense in that moment. You either believed it or you didn't and if you didn't, then they'd drop you back off in a world that had your face plastered on wanted posters and big screens in the middle of the city.

So you made sense of it and made some semblance of life within the four walls of the Spider Society headquarters with the Grade A asshole known as Miguel O'hara – not your husband.

The grief of that worked in waves. It came and went when life continued to move. It was strange to think that what brought you here, to this future, occurred one year ago.

Sat by a window looking out into an Earth that was not yours, you swung your legs as those thoughts crossed your mind. The chatter of a thousand Spider-people filled the space around you.

A thud sounded on the beam a few feet from you. Soft, nearly mute shoes tapping their way beside you. Green. The color of artificial grass in a children's playset, nearly blue.

"Watcha doing?"

There was never a moment of peace here. But you closed you eyes, sighed and a smile quirked on your lips.

"You daydreaming? I wonder what it's like out there..." Gwen Stacy joined the Spider-Society three months ago. "It looks so... contempo."

"Contempo? Where did you hear that?"

"I read you know," she tipped her head up in mock offense. "Kids do read when they're in school."

"Yeah, yeah," you brushed her off.

"So... what are you up to today? I was thinking we could monitor the dimensions with Jess and maybe catch a bad guy or two–" Gwen's fists mimicked boxing, "–and then Peter said he'd bring Mayday around–"

"Slow down," you chuckled. "I am up to nothing, thanks for asking and if that's what you want, sure."

Her eyes lit up when on most days they didn't.

"Really!?"

"Mhm, yeah, sure."

"Great!" Gwen got to her feet and wrung her hands. "Jess was in the control center so–"

"Control center?"

Gwen hummed, hands clasping behind her back comically.

"Yep! Just... chillin' by a screen. You know, she's got that baby on the way and all so we thought it'd be best to keep her inside for the time being and she doesn't like that but she said–" Gwen went on and on as the words came pouring out.

"Gwen."

"–that she would rather die than have to sit here and watch screens all day. I told Peter she would hate it and he agreed with me but sometimes he brings–"

"Gwen."

"–Mayday around just to cheer us up that we haven't gone on that many missions and its always well... you know... and we feel like we can't do anything to help out sometimes–"

"Gwen!" You shouted at her. She stopped her rambling; blue eyes wide and ears listening. "Just... take a breath, alright?"

"Sorry," she said sheepishly.

"You don't have to be sorry," a sharp breath steadied you. "I'm not going to go with you to the control room."

"Please," she begged. You imagined this is what it was like having a teenage daughter who wanted the most unattainable of things. "I promise it will be fine! Miguel's not even there so you don't have to worry about what he said last time!"

"That was three days ago, Gwen!"

"So what!?"

The last time was three days ago.

Ever since you arrived, it had been nothing but anger and hostility pushed toward you from him but you were not easy on him either. It was hard facing a piece of your past that had every connection but no foundation at the same time.

Earth 9591 was in ruins and the screens replayed the horrors of the people over and over. It was desolate. Earth was crumbling in on itself and a medieval Rhino had found itself in the mess as Earth 9591 Peter was on his last leg.

According to Miguel, this Peter was supposed to experience this.

"We can't just let him die, Miguel," you argued as he stood up on his platform above you and Peter. "There is a chance he could live and we're reducing him to nothing because of his goddamn canon?"

"We can't mess with it, you know that." Miguel's patience was running thin. "Every time we can't interfere you come here with the same argument and the answer is always no. It will always be no."

"Why?" You pushed. Sometimes just seeing his face now made you mad. The questions of why this Miguel got to live when your's didn't was something that constantly simmered within you.

"You plucked me from my Earth and brought me here so why can't we do that for him? He'd be healthy and safe here."

"This is supposed to happen to him," he huffed your name as he turned back to the screens. "Not every battle is going to be one that Spider-Man wins and if we mess with it, we threaten that whole dimension."

"Well it sure as hell looks like it's in a bit of trouble, boss," Peter let out a nervous chuckle.

"And so it is."

"But what of Rhino, hm?" He hated the way you rose your eyebrows in question. Every version of you did that. "That's not supposed to be his fate."

"One less villain we have to worry about."

You let out a frustrated groan. "When did you become so heartless? We save people here, Miguel. We don't let them suffer."

"I'm not heartless. I'm being realistic and the fact is that 9591 Peter isn't gonna live and his world will become uninhabitable. That is part of his canon, end of story."

"So my canon said to bring me here?" You asked, hands on your hips. Peter inched backwards from you because he could feel the rumblings of the volcano bubbling.

"Take me from my home and bring me here for what? To have another person go along with every decision you make? Newsflash, Miguel, that's not going to happen."

"Oh, really?" He laughed, sarcastically, and looked down at you from above.

"Yes, really. Maybe this canon bullshit is just that, bullshit. Maybe you made a mistake–"

"I didn't make a mistake," he defended loudly. "I am not letting other worlds get destroyed because of stupid decisions."

"So it's only a stupid decision when it's a reality that we both exist in?"

If Peter hadn't known any better this would have sounded like a fight between a married couple.

"That's not what I said," Miguel brought his hand to the bridge of his nose and squeezed. "We can't go around making those same mistakes. I am not putting any other lives in danger."

"But you did it when it benefitted you."

Miguel mumbled to himself up there. You couldn't hear. Peter took more steps back and Spider-Byte ducked behind her consul. Miguel's brown mop of hair slicked back with the motion of his hand.

"Well you would've liked that world too."

"I liked the one I was from."

God, some days he really disliked you.

At the same time, when Miguel looked down at you, he saw the wife he knew in a different capacity and it sent his mind spiraling. He didn't sleep, he barely took the time to care for himself because all he could think about was the dimensions of happiness that you both had and the one you've both found yourselves in now.

He hated that he loved the body of the woman he knew but couldn't fully trust the version of you that existed now.

"We're not going."

"Miguel,"

He lept from the platform and onto the level you stood on. Still as large as before, his shadow filled your space before he did and for some ungodly reason, the presence of this Miguel made your heart pump furiously as your husband had.

Miguel had that look in his eyes that made them appear red. Fist clenched at his sides and that same lingering sadness emitting from his person.

"Not another word."

He hated the challenge you took from him.

"Why is it ok that you took me from my dimension? To serve some sick purpose of remembering your wife?" You spat at him.

You were just like her... just a little more broken.

"I'm not her, Miguel."

"You think I don't know that?" His voice was nearly caught in his throat. "You think I don't know that you're not her? It's pretty goddamn obvious you're not her."

"Oh yeah?" Your voice was no different.

You hated when you fought with Miguel in your dimension and that didn't change in this one.

Peter thought he should look away.

"Well she's not here, is she?"

Miguel stared at you. He couldn't help the way his eyes moved over your face. He saw the same eyes, nose, and lips. You were his wife just as he was your husband.

"No," he said as a ghostly whisper, "she's not."

"And maybe I'm not like her but you're not like my Miguel either... so don't make this fall on me. I didn't ask to come here."

"You're here now," Miguel's voice was devoid of feeling. "So get used to the rules. We're not going."

And he stalked off with Peter following on his tail.

If you closed your eyes you could see fragments of Miguel. Now, however, this Miguel was beginning to eclipse those memories.

"Shit..." Spider-Byte snickered from behind her monitor. Her blue glow filling your vision as you looked at her. "I wouldn't take that, mama. I'd kick his ass."

Miguel wasn't there. He was off saving a dimension because canon was all that mattered and Jess was monitoring that other universes just as Gwen had said.

It was a relief.

So, you sat back and watched as Jess and Gwen flipped through the different footage from the dimensions that either lit up red for an anomaly or maintained green for a perfect balance.

Jess flipped through them quickly. Every world passing by your face within a second of seeing the light on the panel turn green. The few instances of red sent her pressing on a communication button before Gwen could complain that she wanted to go out and fight.

Gwen lingered on worlds. She looked at the images as though she wished to be a part of them.

She hesitated moving on from a boy in a black suit just a second too long.

"Gwen?" You asked her as her hand hovered over the button. She was intently looking at him as he moved about the fire escape.

"Gwen?" You reached out a hand to shake her shoulder. She bristled out of her spell and pressed the button before you could ask any questions.

It would be several months later that you'd learn that the boy was the source of it all.

Miles Morales had heard a million versions of the same story.

It all began with a name and that named person being bit by a radioactive spider that magically gave them powers and they used them to save the world, or fight street crime, or kill mice (in the case of that Spider-Cat he saw in the lobby).

They were all the friendly, neighborhood hero that the world needed.

Until the collider messed with their functions and required a society such as this to take on a much larger purpose.

And Miles was taken aback.

He had never felt so seen sans the moment he walked through the doors of the complex. Every turn he made, a new Spider-Person was uniquely fit into their world so different than his own.

Within the chamber of villains from other dimensions, he saw a Spider-Woman without a suit.

"So people like, live here?" Miles asked Gwen who shrugged.

"Some do. We can stay for as long as we like and then go back to our dimensions when we need to."

"And suits are optional?"

Hobie turned around and gave Miles as questionable gaze.

"A uniform is binding, man," he told Miles. "Use what makes you comfortable."

Gwen nearly galloped ahead to the Spider-Woman with a digital portfolio. Miles saw the way Gwen's eyes lit up just as they did when they saw each other again.

Hobie was the one to introduce you. Your named rolled off his tongue like butter–so casual and cool in a way Miles did not believe he ever could be.

"She lives here," He explained. "Can't really go back to her dimension so she does a lot of cataloguing. The main man doesn't want her out of missions... you know," Hobie spun his finger near his forehead, "little crazy that one."

"I'm not crazy, Hobie," you called out as Gwen pointed toward your group.

"No, you're right," he corrected himself. "He's the crazy one."

"That's more like it," you smiled and Miles felt a boyish crush form in his stomach. "Hi Miles. I've heard a lot about you."

You did. Gwen had been giddy in the way she reminisced about her time with Miles. Even Peter put in his two-cents about the way he trained him and it went incredibly poorly for the greater part of their journey together.

You missed a good chunk of time by not being present when they all converged on the same dimension. It may have saved you from yourself.

"Hi," he waved back nervously.

The party kept walking with your addition. Beyond the orange cells of villains captured and waiting to be returned home, a center of technology he could dream of appeared in front of him.

It was just a tour.

Lyla appeared beside you.

"Miguel's hangry," she complained as she looked at her non-existent nail-beds.

"He's probably just angry."

"No," she shook her bob, "it's the hangry kind. You should have the kid pick up something for him... a gift."

"Gift," you chuckled. Miles looked so green. He was amazed by the technology of the go-home-machine that you weren't sure how he would react when he reached the hub. Walking through all of the test technology before going to Miguel's station... he'd be on cloud nine.

"He'll be expecting the party soon."

"I'll stay behind."

You were certain Miguel would be able to hear this conversation but Lyla had a mind of her own–she was artificial after all.

"You should come with. Miles could use your perspectives."

"What perspectives?" This was the longest conversation you had ever held with her. "Oh, Miles," you mimicked, "don't beat criminals to a pulp... um, don't let your anger get the best of you... don't kill people.... yeah, good advice."

"I meant a motherly figure here."

"I'm not a mother, Lyla. Besides, he's got Jess for that."

Lyla glitched to the other side of you. "Jess hasn't taken to him like she did you and Gwen."

"He's got Peter."

"But he could use you too."

You gave a tight-lipped hum.

"Or," she countered, "maybe you need someone like him. It's always strange what effect kids have on adults... makes them... soft or something. You should see the videos of Miguel!" She laughed, you didn't.

"He liked to play soccer with her."

Her. In another dimension, you had a daughter.

"Why are you telling me this?" You asked her.

She waved her hand dissuasively. "Miguel's not going to, so I might as well."

The party began to make their exit. Down to the liar they went and as they walked, Lyla floated in the air beside you. Miles kept peaking back like a child on a holiday.

"Miles," you called out to him.

"Yes?" He turned around quickly and at attention. He was a cute kid. So nervous and out of his element. If it weren't for his merry misfit group of friends, Miguel was sure to eat him alive.

"Do you have a question or is there a reason you keep looking at me?"

He rubbed his hand on the back of his neck. Miles then pointed to Lyla.

"Is she a Spider-Person too?"

"No," you told him and Lyla glitched to him. "An A.I. that Miguel created. She knows all."

"She flatters me," Lyla murmured back a smile.

Miles turned back around and continued on with his conversation that bounced between Gwen and Hobie. Lyla disappeared from the hallway as the sounds of old, tinkered experiments and Miles' struggles painted a picture of a much different boy in your mind.

While his struggles were not yours and you'd never understand them completely, his want to belong struck a chord with you in a way it did with Gwen.

There was a family that could be built here if the realities of pain could be ignored.

Above on his floating platform, Miguel slowly descended as Miles gaped in a slight awe. Yes, it was dramatic. Yes, it was unnecessary and it made you roll your eyes.

Hobie stuck to the wall in the back. Gwen took Miles to the edge and you leaned up against a pillar not far from Hobie.

"Miguel O'Hara," Gwen introduced, "meet Miles Morales."

And then Miles butchered his introduction with cheer. He offered up those empanadas which Miguel slipped right into the trash.

And like Gwen, he fumbled his words by rambling about how to catch Spot.

Miguel threw the trash can at them both only for Hobie to sneak the empanada out of the box and into his hand without blinking.

And then everything spiraled out of control.

Miguel's meter began to spike an angry red as the frantic nature of his focus within this world had been protecting the multi-verse. Here, in this room, Miles was the supposed source of it.

If it wasn't for Miles, many of his problems wouldn't exist and he'd be grateful but he can't be, simply because they are truly real.

"Hey Miguel!" Peter's voice broke through the silent seconds. Miles perked up at the sound. "Come on, go easy on the kid. He had a terrible teacher. He had no chance."

"Peter!"

The two hugged like old friends.

"Miles!" Peter put a hand on his shoulder. "Don't be afraid of my friend Miguel. He just looks scary. He's got no bite."

He had seen it once. He chose to ignore it.

So he went on with his little break up of Miguel's serious moment and you watched unfold from the shadows, the orange glow of your tablet keeping you busy while Mayday swung around the room and Miles exasperatedly came to terms with Peter being a father.

"-You always say the 'fate of the multiverse' and my brain dies."

You chuckled to yourself, glancing up at Peter as he circled Miguel. Miguel was holding Mayday like he had never held a child in his life.

That was the kind of thing your Miguel did.

"You guys smell that?" Peter sniffed into the air. He swiftly picked up Mayday and swung right by Miles and Gwen and straight to you.

"You smell that right?" He held her up high. Yes, yes you did smell that.

"That is entirely your problem, Peter."

"Miles–" Miguel caught their attention again. "–You disrupted a canon event."

"Canon event?"

"The kid wasn't thinking," Peter interjected. He held onto Mayday as you strung a web for her to bounce on. Miguel was half torn between the conversation he tried to be stern about and the watching you weave a web for that little girl.

"That's not how he works."

"That's insulting," Miles commented.

Hobie got up from the floor to stand next to you. He caught Mayday in the air, saluting her with two fingers.

"Taking a crap on the establishment... I salute you."

"What are you upset about?" Miles furrowed his brows as Miguel stepped off the platform and walked towards him. The boy would be amiss if he hadn't felt his stomach drop to his feet in the menacing way Miguel O'Hara walked.

"When isn't he upset about something?" You murmured from the back.

"I saved those people."

Ah, yes. Pavitr's dimension. Miguel had been in the go-home-department when it happened.

"And that's the problem," Miguel clarified. "Lyla, do the thing."

As she always did, Lyla appeared with a semi-oblivious nature.

"Huh? What thing?"

"The thing... what do you mean 'what thing?' The information explaining thing!"

She gave a casual 'ok' and the room changed before you.

You had never seen everything before.

Jess had talked about it, Peter mentioned what it looked like, and a few others who had seen it claimed it left them more confused than anything.

It was a bright blue tree, in a sense. Woven with a variation of color that reminded you of the sea at mid-day and the sky at night, everything was a timeline of complete facts of the world. Every moment of every person's lives were tied to this one branch of 'everything.'

Expansive and high, the tree of everything bloomed over your heads and Miles was the one trying to come to terms with the sincerity of it. However, just as he had begun to grasp the idea of everything being resembled by a tree with branches that diverged from its timeline, the room changed to a red web.

Hundreds and hundreds of webs interconnected by lines that captured the very lives in that room. All of them facing convergence by multiple lifelines to different events, canons, and realities that make up a person's existence in the, as he had coined, the Spider-Verse.

"The lines... where the nodes converge?" Miles asked aloud.

"They are the canon."

Every web around him had different nodes. Some had more than others, some had barely any. He noticed a cluster of three big webs with few canon nodes.

"Their chapters apart of every Spider's story, every time. Some good, some bad... some very bad."

Miguel pulled down a cluster to showcase the very bad. You had a sinking feeling somewhere along the line the 'very bad' also included you.

A row of Spider-People emerged in the same position. He saw Peter, he saw Gwen, he recognized you, and then himself leaning over the body of a loved one who perished too soon.

Like a story, Miguel walked through varied canon events that were to occur in many Spider stories. A police captain, a lover, the event that turns someone into a hero, the struggles of the hero.

Miles looked at each of you as a fragment of your past appeared before him.

"That's how the story is supposed to go. Canon events are the connections that bind our lives together and those connections can be broken that why anomalies are so dangerous. Inspector Singh's death was a canon event."

A police captain.

"You weren't supposed to be there."

Even though you weren't there, you saw it unfold from the safety of Lyla's simulation. People running, a bridge nearly collapsing.

"And you weren't supposed to save him. That's why Gwen tried to stop you."

You could see the gears in his brain turning. He was hurt, misguided in his efforts to be a good Spider-Man because it was suddenly becoming a conflict for him. Miles tried to be good. He tried to save people and even doing so, he seemed to mess up.

It was so different from the Spider-Woman you used to be.

"I thought you were trying to save me," Miles admitted to Gwen who had turned her back from him. She kept her eyes to the ground.

"I was. I-I was doing both," she took a chance to gaze back at him only to see the hurt.

She was just doing her job.

"And now, Miles," Miguel sighed and he walked around the space. He planted his feet beside you and Miles took a glance and couldn't tell who was friend or foe.

He didn't know where he stood himself.

"Because you changed the story, Pavitr's dimension is unraveling. If we're lucky, we can stop it. We haven't always been lucky."

Miguel looked at you. He looked at you with a sheen in his eyes that you'd hadn't see from this version of him. For once, he looked as sad as he felt on the inside.

And for once, he wasn't fighting with you about what was right or wrong in that moment.

"That wasn't me!" Miles defended. "That was the Spot."

"It's what happens when you break canon."

"How do you know?"

"Because I broke it once myself."

There was a part of you that wanted out. You wanted out right that second because you had seen enough. You had seen the destruction, had been part of some destruction, and seeing Miguel's world crumble animatedly in front of you wasn't something you wanted. But your feet stuck to the floor. Planted, like mud, waiting to be freed.

It was your story too and you didn't even know what happened.

"I found another world where I had a family. Where I was happy."

In the web, the cluster of three was connected by one single strand to a much larger web with varied canon events. Whatever this was, Miles imagined, was Miguel's universe.

"At least a version of me was. And that version of myself was killed."

This time trying to catch a thief who stole a woman's purse. Not a bank robbery.

"So I replaced him. I thought it was harmless."

You looked away at the scenes. Miguel with her. A little brown haired girl who loved soccer and he did her homework at the kitchen table with her. A father who looked adoringly at a daughter who was joyous and knew no pain.

"But I was wrong."

Then the world began to collapse. In his arms, the girl disappeared as though she had never existed.

"Isn't that right, Peter?"

Your head shot up towards Peter who looked away from you. He had seen you before, in a different reality where you too were happy with the life you lived and where you were happy with a daughter who loved Miguel too.

"Peter?" You gave a weak call to him. He shut his eyes tightly. "Peter, you knew?"

Miles felt the way you felt. A shell of a hero without a purpose with people who made very choice feel like a mistake.

You walked up to Peter. Miles saw the white-knuckle grip you had on the pink robe. This was more than just friends making choices feel like a mistake.

"You knew me?"

Miles glanced back at the web. The three small webs that had little to them stuck out like a bouquet of flowers. Each their own small story.

“Whose is that?” Miles gestured as he tried to ignore the way you prodded at Peter for answers. Perhaps Miles already knew that Miguel had made this more complicated than it needed to be.

He had already destroyed one reality for happiness. Miles imagined that this man could ruin many more if it meant one more second of living.

“These ones?” Miguel pointed to the web of three.

You knew it was yours without even realizing it.

“That’s mine," you breathed in deep.

Even though you hadn't gotten along in this world, Miguel felt the weight of his secrecy fall heavily onto his shoulders.

“You see, Miles,” Miguel started, “there are infinite dimensions were we exist. All these webs here,” he pointed to the connecting lines that reappeared of many lives, “are realities were someone like you may exist. Maybe not as Spider-Man but as something.”

Miguel looked to you and for the first time since he met you in your reality, he saw the woman he fell in love with.

“And her dimensions look a bit different.”

“Why?” Miles questioned. “Why don’t ours look like that?”

“Because you can exist in infinite realities, Miles,” you told him in a voice that reminded him of his mother telling him a relative died. “And I can’t.”

“There is only three of her that exist in our… Spider-Verse, as you put it,” Miguel stated. “And one of them collapsed.”

In a hologram, he saw you in the world they had all just witnessed disappear from reality. Miles saw you running and running and he could see the destination, Miguel and that child, so close yet too far away.

And then there was nothing.

“Oh,” Miles felt sadness creep within him. Gwen wanted to comfort both you and Miles but couldn’t muster it in front of Miguel.

Peter wasn't sure what to do.

One strand of three disappeared.

“And in the other, she’s not here anymore.”

"What dimension is that?"

Miguel sighed. Hands on his hips, he met Miles' intense stare instead of yours.

"This one."

“So there is only me now,” you have a half-hearted smile.

“I thought you said you were the only Spider-Man in this dimension?” Miles asked Miguel as he tried to make sense of this world he found himself in.

“I am,” Miguel clarified. “She’s not from this dimension. Her… alternate self isn’t here anymore.”

He recalled the images of all the Peter’s and Gwen’s and Jessica’s mourning their canon disasters. Loved ones, friends, lovers.

The second strand of three disappeared.

“Does that mean if you…?”

You nodded your head at Miles. Peter put his hand on your shoulder at the admission.

Miguel focused on that hand. He saw the comfort, he saw the friendly love and knew he had wasted time. He had wasted months being angry at you when you weren’t the cause of it.

He had watched over your dimension to keep you safe while you struggled and in his own pain, he made the unity between you strained and unrealistic.

But he also knew the greater purpose.

“I guess I just have to pick the right side.”

You tried to bring levity.

You didn’t realize that you’d be picking Miles and your friends or Miguel and the person you knew because if you didn't you'd lose everything.

And you needed to save yourself in one dimension you still existed in.

Earth 42.

A/N: this isn’t proofed yet. I can totally see a million different sequels to dive deeper into the relationship between reader and Miguel.

As always, comments and reblogs are the best feedback a writer can ask for. I love reading any comments you all leave 🥺. Thank you so much for reading.

Tags:

@csmt-m @er4tous @gracielou0518

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara imagine #fanficition #x reader #x fem reader #fanfic #x female reader #x female y/n #across the spiderverse #oscar isaac

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

Hello rumor tracking anon 👋🏻 I'm really sad with the horrible way almost all of the western media ganged up and bashing Princess Catherine for something so insignificant just because she refused to divulge her medical records information with the nobodies. She and the babies are subjects horrible memes now. What do you think KP should do in future to ensure they put these rogue press in their places and never bow down to their ridiculous demands of more access into the Waleses' private lives?

Part of it is that their hands are tied because of William's position as Prince of Wales and future king. They're public officials whose lives are subsidized by taxpayer monies, which means they have to allow the people access to parts of their lives. For much of modern history, the people have used the fourth estate as their representatives to the royals (and vice versa), but at some point the press appointed themselves as judge, jury, and executioner of the royal family, which caused most of them to go on enormous power trips and develop astounding cases of entitlement.

Anyway, KP being a quasi-public office means they:

Can't try to censor the press, control what they print, or regulate what the internet/social media says about them. Harry already tried and it's going to be worse if William tries.

Can't not talk to the press. Certainly, William and Kate individually and personally can not talk to the press and just let the KP office speak for them every/any time - but they do this already for the most part.

Can't not include journalists or the rota in their events. They're public officials. Their work has to be covered by the public, no matter how rogue or cooperative their representatives (the press) are.

But there's a loophole. There are a couple loopholes, actually:

KP can either work with the press or without the press - i.e. go directly to the people themselves.

KP can draw separate mutually-exclusive boundaries around private lives/children and their work.

KP can move farther away from the media hub of London.

Work with or without the media

Reform the rota. The main issue here is how? Term limits on the royal beat? Expanding the rota and diversifying the publications represented? Blocking where, when, and how the rota accompanies them (like Anne is able to)? That's something KP/William would need to negotiate with the rota, and based on what Scobie said in Endgame, the rota is not interested in changing anything unless they can personally benefit to the exclusion of everyone else.

Cut the press out of their dealings. This means communicating directly to the people via their social media accounts, which means more transparency. They've started this by controlling who and when photographs of their children are shared, now let's take it a step or two further and start using your social media or an official KP website to more broadly communicate and promote their work and engagements. The press can and will continue to cover them, but by reducing their exclusivity, KP can control the narrative a little better. What does this look like?

KP publishing their press releases, statements, announcements, and photographs exclusively to social media or a website.

Not giving the rota access to their friends for the big articles.

Commissioning and making documentaries of their work. A lot of what they already do is perfect for documentaries and longer content forms. I mean, Earthshot is primed for a documentary series to follow up on their winners or other finalists, show some of the decision-making, etc. When they travel, make a documentary about the trip. Or even produce documentaries/programs about their charities and patronages - they don't have to be in it!

Start using their YouTube channel and create more longer-form content instead of these 40-second Instagram reels. Where are they going? Who are they meeting? Why are they going to these places? What do these charities do? Show us everything that the rota or the press would ordinarily report on, and in doing so they'd take power away from the media.

Become more selective of who gets their personal photographs. Say no. Authorize it only for rota publications. Give the exclusive to one publication at at time. Make everyone use only what was posted.

Reform the KP staff. Especially the communications team. Bring in a lawyer or two. Hire some real communications/PR experts. Get a real social media manager to manage and organize your content. Prioritize communications as equally as the charity work instead of leaving it an afterthought. Develop and implement standards/policies for press engagement like:

KP Comms will accept press inquiries Monday through Friday 9am - 5pm. Press inquiries/requests submitted outside these hours will be addressed within working hours only.

All press inquiries/requests must be answered. Even if it's "no comment," every inquiry/request gets a response so that when a publication does become impatient and writes "KP has not responded," we pull them on the carpet for not giving us a chance to respond.

No comments or answers on questions concerning private matters (e.g. Kate's health) and our minor/still-in-school children.

(I've no idea if this is feasible or not. The bottom line is KP needs to introduce clear standards for working with and handling the press so the fourth estate can't use "they didn't respond to our request for comment" as a weapon anymore.)

Work more. Rumors and conspiracy theories exist when there's an absence of information. When there's no information or there's very little information, we make things up to explain what we see or don't see. The only way to address that is to give more information. And for KP, that means William and Kate both need to work more. They need to be seen more.

We know they're working. We see the results, but it's not enough anymore. They need to be showing progress towards those results. Show us the meetings you're having. Show us the visits you're making. Show us why this work and these accomplishments are important. Show us the meaning and the impact. Show us the bang your taxpayer's pound sterling.

If they want to keep their engagement numbers low because family first, that's fine - but it needs to be compensated elsewhere, and that is not happening currently (excluding the ongoing health crises). Yes, they prefer quality over quantity but what good is quality when you can't see it?

And that's where their content channels and social media can be helpful. (Just to make it full circle.) If they satisfy the people, the press and the media has no choice but to fall in line because the people - their consumers - aren't going to buy their products when they criticize the people they support and like. We see this happen all the time.

Boundaries

So then the next piece of it is their private lives, especially the children. For me, it seems like KP is under the impression that people are only interested in them for their private lives and the children.

I don't think that's true. I think because they're not very transparent about a lot of their work, whether it's the official royal stuff or the Royal Foundation or their personal charity work, people/the fourth estate default to wanting information about their private lives and the children. Maybe this is foolhardy of me, but I truly believe if William and Kate worked more and showed us their work more, most people would feel very satisfied by it and be very happy with the little we get about the children.

So we don't actually need to see the children, and KP doesn't need to include the children in their content. And frankly, KP shouldn't be including the kids in their content until they're old enough and responsible enough to consent to it - so the cadence they've struck with providing access to the children is perfect (family photos 4 times a year, individual photos for birthdays and special milestones, and 3-5 family work events/engagements a year).

On that note, I think KP underestimates how interested the normal general public would be in content produced about or for their work. I mean, people liked Kate and people liked William long before there were children in the picture, and people will continue liking them long after the children are grown and have flown the nest cottage. So why not go back to that very basic element: the main attractions at KP are William and Kate themselves.

Kate narrating a documentary about bee-keeping and honeymaking? Earthshot giving us a 6 episode documentary series about their winners narrated by Cate Blanchett or a 2-hour special about Cape Town and South Africa (and every Earthshot city) by David Attenborough or a local expert? A 30-minute travel program about Cornwall by the Duchy of Cornwall? 3-minute YouTube videos about their charities and patronages produced by the people who work there or who benefit from services posted ahead of their visits? William narrating a documentary about his homeless initiative in Cornwall? A summer exhibition in KP's display hall of Kate's dresses or a Kate-curated show of the Royal Collection or loans from her patronages?

My god, everyone would go ballistic. No one would even care that the kids weren't included.

Physical Distance / Move Away

Then finally, the third option for KP would be to move further away from the nucleus/media hub that is London. It does seem like the farther one lives from London, the easier time it takes to keep the press and media out of their personal lives. We see it with Anne (in Gloucestershire), Edward and Sophie (in Bagshot), and we saw it with the then-Cambridges when they lived at Anmer Hall 2014 - 2017 and during the pandemic. We also saw it with Charles, also in Gloucestershire at Highgrove House (albeit less successfully because he courted the press there at times).

The precedence is there for William and Kate to move their family farther out. Norfolk is out of the question because Rose is there so it would likely cause more media intrusion, so they'd have to find another place, one on enough acreage to ensure security and privacy and good schools. But they just moved the kids to a new school two years ago and would they want to uproot them again? Or so soon? Probably not.

So the only thing KP can really do to block, or further regulate, demands for access to their private lives is work. Simply put, William and Kate need to do more of it, more frequently, more openly, and more transparently. Give something for people to talk about so there's no time, space, or air for rumors, conspiracy theories, shame, or criticism. But unfortunately, that's not their priority. Their priority is family - which is totally and completely 100% fine - but KP is unwilling to see that boundaries around private lives doesn't mean boundaries around work. Or maybe they can't see how boundaries around the home and boundaries around work can be completely distinct and separate because how traumatic the media intrusion has been for much of their lives.

Anyway. Queen for a day, that's what I'd do. I'd sit William, Kate, and KP down and say "listen, something's gotta give. You want more privacy, you need to pay for it. You can pay for it with your work (do more of it), your kids (put them out in public more), your words (talk more), your distance (live farther from London and commute daily), or your sanity and health (do nothing and let the press run roughshod all over you). What's it going to be?"

And the thing is, it's not a unique question. Everyone everywhere has had to deal with this: what's my priority and how am I going to pay for it? KP has just skated for a very long time on do-nothing-and-hope-for-the-best and as we've all seen in the last 8 weeks, that plan doesn't work anymore.

Re-reading this before I post, I'm pretty sure I lost the plot somewhere in here. Sorry, readers!

#ask #theories #waleses #in this essay i will

[swamp-chicken]

for the writing prompts, maybe ethubs with “you’re my happy place” “dont get cheesy on me” hehe - 👻

Sorry you waited a month for this LOL

happy place 2903 words // cw intoxication, alcohol use

Bdubs was fast asleep, dreaming of something pleasant like horsies or rabbits, when he was woken abruptly by a loud clatter. Bdubs was instantly wide awake. Bdubs’ clock, barely visible in the moonlight, showed it was past midnight.

The monolith was mob-proof, but Bdubs had still been surprised a few times. Once, he had been woken up by a rogue skeleton that must have snuck in a window. Now… he peered through the dark, eyes focusing immediately on a shadow closing in on him. Bdubs shrieked and flung a pillow at the creature.

“Agh! Bdubs, it’s me!”

Bdubs slowly lowered the second pillow he held at the ready. “Etho?”

The figure drew nearer, and yup, it was Etho, hair shining silver in the moonlight. He stumbled into Bdubs’ nightstand. “Ow.”

Bdubs frowned. “Um, what are you doing here? Are you okay?” Bdubs kept Etho’s bedroom in the basement clean in case Etho wanted somewhere to crash near spawn, but this was very much not Etho’s bedroom.

“‘M fine,” Etho said, “just wanted to see you.” He tipped forwards onto Bdubs bed.

Bdubs scrambled back towards the wall. “Are you… are you drunk?” No. Impossible. Bdubs had known Etho for years, and the guy—while he had no issue consuming massive amounts of caffeine—mostly steered clear of alcohol.

In fact, Bdubs had only seen Etho drink once before. An evening long, long ago, in another world with another group of people. A little server get-together. They had been much younger then, Bdubs still tripping over himself to impress Etho. His stomach had given a flip, then, when Etho had chosen to sit next to him.

They were sitting on the ground, a couple of nearby dirt-and-timber houses the only infrastructure in this newly-discovered world. Genny passed some beers to Bdubs, and Bdubs offered one to Etho just to be polite. Etho had always demurred in the past, choosing instead to quietly watch them all make drunken fools of themselves. Usually he would cut out early, when things started to get too rowdy, and went back to his base alone. That night, though, Etho had taken the proffered beer from Bdubs’ hand with a shy smile.

Bdubs grinned. “You finally joining us plebs?”

“It’s a special occasion,” Etho defended, cracking open the can. “New world and everything.”

It was a new world, Bdubs marveled. Unexplored, unbuilt, and Etho sitting at his side.

The conversation that night was winding, people making plans, making toasts. Bdubs quickly learned that Etho laughed more when he drank. Bdubs liked making his friends laugh, he liked entertaining them, but there was something special about the way Etho leaned into Bdubs’ side while he laughed breathlessly. Something that made Bdubs’ chest warm.

As the night wore on, Etho leaned into Bdubs’ side more and more heavily, and Bdubs increasingly began to put on a performance for one.

“Hey, are you two listening?” Guude’s voice snagged Bdubs attention.

He reluctantly unstuck himself from Etho’s side. “What’d I miss?”

Guude gestured around the circle. “We’re deciding who’s building the nether hub this season. No one’s volunteered.”

Bdubs glanced around the group, most of whom were sitting silently. He cleared his throat. “I mean, Genny and I worked on the expansion last season… If you really needed someone, I guess I could…”

Etho leaned forward. “I’ll do it,” he said.

Bdubs glanced at him sidelong. “Really?”

Etho shrugged, smiled at Bdubs. “Yeah, it sounds fun.”

Bdubs found himself smiling back. “Yeah, it could be fun. I’ll help, too.”

Guude stifled a laugh. “Then that’s that. You guys are the nether hub team. Now you can go back to… whatever you were doing.” The group started chattering to each other again, a tone of relief in their voices.

Bdubs turned to Etho. “You know, they’re going to hold you to that. You can’t wiggle out of it by claiming you were under the influence.” Bdubs grimaced, remembering some past promises he had made while tipsy.

“I know.” Etho seemed unconcerned. “I really have been wanting to work on something big. A community project.” He hesitated a moment. “Something with you.”

“Aww,” Bdubs said. It took every ounce of his dwindling self-control not to leap to his feet and punch the air. Etho wanted to work with him. “Well, it’s going to be awesome. Got any building ideas in that genius head of yours?”

Etho settled back against Bdubs’ side. “Maybe,” he said, fighting a smile. “You’ll have to wait and see.”

“It’s gonna be so cool,” Bdubs blabbered. “I want to do something massive. Something with a dome? Like, a cathedral or something—”

Etho laughed, stifling a yawn.

Bdubs broke off. “Hey,” he said, wrapping an arm around Etho. “Tired?”

Etho nodded into Bdubs’ shoulder. “Should probably go to bed.”

Bdubs stood, brushing the dirt off his pants. “Come on, then.” He offered Etho a hand.

Etho rose to his feet, stumbling into Bdubs as he did. He was maybe a little more drunk than he seemed.

Bdubs was, too. “I’ll walk you back to your house. Protect you from any creepers.”

Etho snorted, leaning forward into Bdubs space, so close that Bdubs’ heart skipped a beat. “Right, you’ll protect me.”

Bdubs straightened indignantly. “What, you don’t believe me? I’m a stone-cold monster killing machine. Creepers run from me, skeletons cower in fear!”

Etho was giggling helplessly. He pulled Bdubs towards him and it took a moment for Bdubs to realize he was being hugged. “I’m so glad I met you, Bdubs,” Etho said into Bdubs’ hair, voice curling with fondness.

“O-Oh—“ Bdubs stuttered, his heart suddenly pounding. “That’s very… You’re sweet.”

Etho pulled back and his eyes were crinkled into a smile, warm. “I think I can make it back on my own. Thanks for offering, though.” His gaze traced over Bdubs’ face, lingering long enough that heat rose in Bdubs’ cheeks. “Goodnight.”

Bdubs swallowed. “‘Night,” he replied, but Etho was already walking away.

That had been the first and last time Bdubs had seen Etho drunk. After that, he kept up with his old habits. Refusing drinks, leaving before things got too rowdy. But something had changed between them. The warmth that blossomed in Bdubs’ chest when he saw Etho, the answering warmth in Etho’s eyes. The nether hub that they had sunk countless hours into, that had turned out even more glorious than Bdubs had imagined.

It had been a good night.

And now here Etho was, lying facedown in Bdubs’ bed and very clearly intoxicated.

“N’mnk,” Etho said, muffled against the blanket.

“Come again?"

Etho wiggled forwards, swinging his legs on to the bed.

“Shoes!” Bdubs shrilled.

Etho huffed against the mattress and kicked his shoes off. They landed on the floor with a thud. He turned his head to the side, out of the way of the blanket, and tried again. “‘M not drunk. Cub had me test some new potions.”

“Right… potions.”

“I was walking by Keralis’s place, and he and XB invited me in, asked me to try Cub’s new concoction…” Etho trailed off, blinking into the distance. “Oh my goodness. Those were drinks. I am drunk.”

Bdubs laughed. “What, you didn’t know?”

Etho seemed a little dazed. “I was wondering why Keralis seemed so surprised when I agreed to take a shot.”

Bdubs choked. “They were shots?”

Etho glanced at Bdubs and cracked up.

“Oh, brother,” Bdubs snickered, unable to hold in his own laughter. “You need a chaperone.”

Etho squirmed himself further onto the bed. “Maybe.”

Bdubs smiled down at him. “I kept your place downstairs just how you left it. Want me to get you set up down there?”

Etho hummed noncommittally.

“Ah,” Bdubs said. “You want to stay up here so I can tell you a bedtime story.”

Etho giggled and wiggled closer. He was practically in Bdubs’ arms by now. “Yeah, that’s it.”

Bdubs heart gave a little thrill, like it did every time Etho came near. Right, a story. He cleared his throat with a dramatic flair. “Once upon a time there was a guy name Etho. He was an okay redstoner, I guess. Maybe even decent. Then one day he met Bdubs, who taught him everything he knew…”

Etho laughed. His face was very close. “I think I know this one.”

Bdubs wanted to smooth the hair out of Etho’s eyes but he kept his hands firmly where they were. One propping his head up, the other braced against the bed, almost curled against Etho’s chest.

“You’ll let me stay the night, right?” Etho asked, quietly.

“Of course.” Bdubs’ mouth was dry.

Etho’s eyes were shining in the dark. He reached out and cupped Bdubs’ face, hand warm. Bdubs was frozen, he felt pinned down by the featherlight touch of Etho’s thumb tracing the line of his cheek. “You always take such good care of me,” Etho murmured. “Thank you.”

Void knows you need it. The quip was right there, ready to be lobbed at Etho so the moment could be laughed off and Bdubs could roll over and go back to sleep.

Bdubs didn’t want to laugh the moment off. He nervously wet his lips with his tongue, Etho distractedly tracking the movement with his eyes. “Well, I care,” Bdubs said instead. A little too honest, a little too exposing.

Etho smiled. He pulled his hand off Bdubs’ cheek but shifted closer, Bdubs’ knuckles bumping against his sternum. Bdubs lifted his hand obligingly and then Etho was actually in his arms, smiling at him dopily. Bdubs stroked his hand down Etho’s back and tentatively dropped the arm propping his head up, lowering himself down until he and Etho were level, their noses almost touching. They made uncomfortable eye contact for a long moment.

At least, it was uncomfortable on Bdubs’ end, his heart rushing in his ears, feeling like he had just scraped off a layer of skin telling Etho he cared. Etho seemed completely at ease, however, his eyelids lowering with each second that passed. Bdubs snorted. Etho was falling asleep.

“Hey,” Bdubs said, wanting to get an answer before Etho nodded off, wanting to at least try and level the playing field. “Why did you come see me? Really.”

Etho’s eyes were mostly closed. “Bedtime story,” he said, and chuckled at his own joke.

Bdubs rolled his eyes.

“No—“ Etho’s voice was so quiet Bdubs had to strain to hear it, despite how close they were lying. “I told you, I just wanted to see you. You’re my happy place.”

Bdubs felt like he had been hit by a truck. “Don’t—don’t get cheesy on me,” he stammered.

Etho blinked one eye open, peeking at Bdubs face. He flushed at whatever he saw there, then resolutely rolled over, his back to Bdubs.

“Hey!” Bdubs whispered hoarsely.

There was an unmistakable smile in Etho's voice when he murmured, “Goodnight.”

———

Bdubs woke early, like usual. Etho was still passed out in his bed, snoring soundly. He had rolled back towards Bdubs in the night, tucking his head against Bdubs’ shoulder. Looking at Etho curled against him, there was a pressure in Bdubs’ chest that was almost painful. He didn’t want to investigate it too deeply

Bdubs decided to get up instead. He carefully dislodged himself from Etho’s embrace, dressing himself and dithering around his room. Etho didn’t budge the whole time. Bdubs stood in his doorway for an extra moment, watching Etho sleep, before remembering himself. Right, he had things to do today.

His first task was some inventory-taking. His storage was a mess by now, shulkers practically carpeting the floor of the monolith. He sorted through them until he found what he needed for his next project, organizing it as he went. After an hour there still hadn’t been a noise from the bedroom. Bdubs was a little concerned by now.

Bdubs had an old potion recipe tucked up his sleeve, one that had come in handy after many a late evening with good company and good drinks. He didn’t use it that much these days, but he could still brew it without much thought or effort. He was only a few minutes at his brewing stand. Bdubs stoppered the bottle and carried the final product upstairs.

Etho was still lying in Bdubs’ bed, covers drawn up to his nose. His eyes were open. He gave a guilty start as Bdubs walked in.

“How are you feeling?” Bdubs asked dryly.

“Horrible,” Etho answered. His voice was muffled by the blanket.

Bdubs snorted. “Here, try this.” He held the potion out.

Etho’s snuck an arm out from under the covers and snatched the potion out of Bdubs’ hands. He brought it close to his face, inspected the contents of the bottle with his brow furrowed. He glanced at Bdubs suspiciously.

Bdubs could have gotten offended by Etho’s obvious mistrust, but the vision of Etho in his arms, giggling and relaxed, was too fresh. He swallowed a laugh instead and sat at the edge of the bed. “Relax, it’s a hangover cure, not a special ‘concoction.’”

Etho, apparently satisfied by that explanation, uncorked the bottle and downed it with one swig. He grimaced at the taste, but Bdubs was no slouch at potion-making. A second later, Etho’s eyes widened. “Wow, that’s strong.”

Bdubs sat back against the bed post, crossing his arms smugly. “Now does Bdubs know his stuff or what?”

Etho sat up, tentatively, leaning against the headboard. The blankets pooled in his lap. He worried his lip, glanced towards the door and then back at Bdubs again. “Thanks,” he said quietly.

This was normally the part where Etho would be scrambling out of the room, calling goodbye over his shoulder, and Bdubs wouldn’t see him for a few weeks. But for some reason, Etho wasn’t moving from his spot on the bed. He picked at his fingernails instead.

Bdubs let the silence stretch awkwardly. He was curious where this might go.

Finally, Etho spoke up. “Did I… say anything last night?”

Bdubs bit down on the smile twitching at the corner of his lips. “You mean last night, when you broke in to my room?”

Etho pressed his lips together and nodded.

“Last night, when you climbed into bed with me?”

Stiffly, Etho nodded again.

“Yeah, you said something.”

“Bdubs,” Etho whined. His face was red with mortification.

Bdubs let out a bark of laughter and Etho glared at him. “You said cute stuff! Like how I was your happy place!”

Etho covered his face in horror. “I did not.”

“Oh, you did,” Bdubs grinned. “It’s fine, though! You don’t have to be embarrassed or anything.”

Etho groaned, his face still buried in his hands.

“You really shouldn’t be embarrassed, though.” Bdubs fidgeted, then spoke before he lost his nerve. “’Cuz I feel the same way.”

Etho slowly pulled his hands away from his face. His brow was creased, expression impossible to read.

Bdubs leapt off the bed, stomach clenching wildly. “Yup! So. I’ll see you later. Gotta get to work.” He turned to leave.

Etho lunged forward and grabbed Bdubs’ wrist. He blinked up at Bdubs, looking surprised by his own actions.

“What?” Bdubs asked.

Etho pursed his lips. “Bdubs… that’s so cheesy.”

“That’s what I said!”

Etho was just staring up at him, eyes wide. “You—“ he started, then cut himself off. His expression firmed. He rose to his knees and reeled Bdubs in by his wrist. Bdubs stumbled towards him, confused.

Etho was bracing himself for something, eyes darting around Bdubs’ face. And then, abruptly, he leaned forward and pressed a firm kiss to Bdubs’ lips.

Bdubs froze, heart knocking painfully against his ribs. This was… Etho was…

Etho drew back, scanned Bdubs’ face anxiously.

“Oh,” Bdubs managed to say, voice weak.

Disappointment flickered across Etho’s face.

Bdubs shook himself. Surely Etho didn’t think… Etho couldn’t think… Did he not know how Bdubs felt?

Bdubs scrambled. “No, wait, I mean… here.” Bdubs took a deep breath and smoothed his hands along Etho’s cheeks, watching Etho’s gaze soften. He pulled Etho towards him and kissed him gently. More gently than Etho’s kiss, at least. Not that it was a competition or anything.

Etho melted against Bdubs, the tension falling out of him, and then they were kissing in earnest; Etho’s mouth moving against his, hesitantly, but with more assurance after Bdubs gave an encouraging hum. They were kissing, Bdubs moving his hands to cup Etho’s jaw, tilting Etho towards him. Etho’s hands settling lightly on his waist.

Bdubs pulled back, chucking Etho affectionately under the chin. “There.”

There was a flush staining Etho’s cheeks. “What, that’s it?”

“Yeah, I got stuff to do,” Bdubs said with a smirk, rocking on his heels.

Etho narrowed his eyes.

Bdubs snorted at his expression, stomach fluttering. “I guess I could be persuaded to stay a little longer…”

Etho tugged Bdubs down on to the bed. “I don’t know why I need to persuade you, since I’m your happy place and all.”

“It doesn’t work like that! You said it first, so you can’t tease me without teasing yourself.”

Etho hardly seemed to hear him. He was staring at Bdubs mouth again, expression hungry.

“Oh, fine,” Bdubs sighed. He glanced at the clock on the wall. “I don’t have anywhere to be until… noon? Maybe? I’m yours until then.”

Etho pounced.

#ethubs #hermitshipping #I just wanted to write some bb mindcrack ethubs. w the nether hub!!! and some kissing to boot! #this is a palette cleanser for you and me :) #i also started working on OGR last night lol #@babygirlbdubs #i think this is you but if not lmk and i will delete tag #my fic

[feverdreamjohnny]

Orbo's Odyssey - Post Mortem

My Feelings About The Game

It's an odd thing to try and pull together your thoughts about something so chaotic.

I guess it'd be easier to just catalogue how my emotions evolved as the project went on, and then wrap it up by trying to pull apart how I feel now, as arcane as that is.

I've been a part of a private developer community for a bit now, and during a majority of my time there I felt sort of like a fish out of water. I guess it was just weird seeing people at the top of their craft while my work sort of paled in comparison. A majority of them had a background in developing character action games or platformers with intricate movement systems, and that was absolutely outside the range of what I understood.

Late 2022 I decided to try and make a movement system with a really strong focus on momentum so I could feel "at home" with the other devs. So I made a small tech demo where most of Orbo's moveset was formed.

In the end it didn't really make me feel more confident in my work, but at least I proved to myself that I could tackle unfamiliar waters and make headway. Regardless, I left the tech demo where it was and continued to work on Nowhere, MI for the next few months.

I made a lot of progress on Nowhere, and around late November a publisher reached out to me to offer help. I was desperate, after all. I didn't have a lot of money to my name and this was the kind of lifeline I needed to secure so I could finish the game.

To cut a long story short, they kept delaying talks about the game over and over and it became increasingly clear to me that my dream of being funded wasn't going to happen.

I was sort of in a bad spot now. It was early 2023 at this point, and I was going to have to make a tough decision: delay Nowhere and get a retail job to make money (potentially losing sight of the project in the process), or find some other solution to secure funding. No other publishers were going to pick me up (and I really didn't trust a majority of them so I only had my sights set on a handful I felt I could trust), so I came to a new conclusion:

What if I just made something short, say in the span of a month or two, and sell it? Surely that would be easy.

Surely.

The Game

In March of 2023, I began working on the game. I wasn't sure what sort of format I wanted for the game at first, and I had initially considered a rogue-like arena combat game where you'd use the game's momentum mechanics to fight enemies, collect upgrades to improve your abilities, rinse and repeat.

The idea ended up feeling sort of strange when I began pre-production, so I ended up scrapping it.

I thought about the movement system some more and realized that it had a strange kinship to a game I had played just a month earlier: Super Kiwi 64.

Then I thought about Siactro's other games, how they were similarly small-scope platformers that seemed to perform well on Steam and Switch, and I realized that if there was something that would suit my own development style (focused around exploration and secrets), it was a 3D platformer.

The first month was fairly strong. I moved at lightning-speed, hammering systems into the game piece by piece. Collectables were done. Time trials (and their records) were done. Movement had been refined further and felt better than in the initial tech demo. There was also a lot of underlying structuring that I won't get into because it's boring (but important).

About a week in I even started working with my friend Tim (who's a professional environment artist), and we began working together on the hub environment (we brainstormed the layout, I designed the greybox, and he wrapped it up with the environment art).

It was going great, but as March was nearing its end I began to realize what I was dealing with.

"Oh, well yeah I mean I knew it wasn't going to be possible in a month! I'm sure if I grit my teeth it'll be done by the end of April!"

So April came along. Tim and I finished the hub area, I got the world portals set up, and eventually we moved to the first level of the game, Shlarp City.

Tim managed to get a decent chunk of the decorative props done, but circumstances were changing and he had a fulltime job in the industry to attend to, so he had to leave the project.

I reasoned "well, I sort of know how to do environment art and I guess I can just go on without help."

Shlarp's greybox was done, and I was sort of happy about the layout. Some friends playtested the game and liked the movement, so I felt a bit more optimistic about the project.

Despite the boost in optimism, I was starting to feel some kind of dread leaking in. My nights were becoming more frantic and troubled, more than they already had been.

I moved onto the next level, reasoning that it'd be best to get the greyboxes for all of the levels finished first, then return for an art pass afterwards. It was the sensible thing to do, after all.

So I began work on Dunbarrow Mines, and this time I was alone. I finished the greybox, and while I wasn't a huge fan of the level, at least it was done. I moved onto Sleepytime Manor and similarly got the greybox finished. Even since the beginning of the month, something was starting to grow inside of me. April was coming to a close, and I still had another level to greybox, a boss fight, secret areas to add, and an art pass on the entire thing. I hadn't really developed much of a game at that point, just 3 barren levels.

And so May came along.

And this was where it all went to hell.

I had been suffering from a lot of issues in my personal life for a while. The year prior had been particularly traumatic and the waves coming from it weren't done passing over yet. If anything the terror was that the major event from the last year hadn't even finished coming to fruition. The stress from everything had caused me to develop a disorder that made my blood acidic, melting away at my nerves. I fought hard and managed to improve my health, but the damage was done and the occasional return of the neuropathy was just a reminder that my life was spiraling downward.

I entered a period of intense stress and depression as waves of terrible memories came over me. I became neurotic. Started having trouble designing levels. It was already an issue for me, but as my mental state deteriorated I was hitting brick walls over and over.

I had my back against the wall. Game development was my only purpose in life, after all. I had been built for it, sacrificed so many hours to it, put everything else aside for it. The only thought going through my head was that I was dying, and that this stupid game was going to be my graveyard.

So roughly two months came by, with sparing work on the game. I finished Monolith station, but it had to be redesigned 3 times to reach the version you currently see in the game today.

The neurosis made me insane. Constantly seeing my peers succeeding while I flailed desperately in a pit was definitely not helping matters.

But something changed in June.

The Garden

I always had an on-and-off again relationship with plants. I had a sort of preternatural skill with growing things, but my interest waxed and waned a lot. The main thing that stuck through this on-and-off relationship were herbs, since they were easy to cultivate and they needed very little maintenance during the periods where I was losing interest.

As I began to take game development more seriously around halfway into 2021, I stopped gardening entirely.

But something very strange happened in the June of 2023. I was frantically compelled to return to it. I raked, toiled and weeded until I had a plot. Then I started buying seeds and began cultivating vegetables again for the first time in 2 years.

And for the first time in this nightmare I was finally happy about something. I don't know what compelled me to start cultivating plants again, but whatever it was, it rescued me from a very long, dark road.

After 2 weeks, I finally finished the final boss of Orbo's Odyssey.

The game needed a lot more work, but I was finally getting a foothold after months of misery.

Eventually my friend Ben was able to help me with the project, and we made a lot of headway. We brainstormed new ideas for how the player could get gear parts. He modeled a load of props. I scripted a load of systems. Finally, the game actually began to look like a game.

Ben was really important. He was optimistic about the project and wasn't suffering from burnout the way I did, and he helped me get out of my fugue. I can't thank him enough for his help.

After around half a year of hammering, we finished the game.

3 weeks after that, we released it to steam.

And about 2 weeks after the release, we're here now.

The Takeaway

Typically in post-mortems you talk about what you would've done differently, but I think this ending might be a bit different.

I'm not really proud of the level design. I think I also could've done better with my share of the environment art in some levels. I think there could've been more details. I think there could've been more content.

But there's no use kicking myself for what could've been. Of course the next game will be better. The mental state I was in during the development of this game was dire and it had a major impact on the quality of my work. I had to break out of a really bad mindset and try to find a better way of engaging with my life. That wasn't easy.

I think some gamers like to imagine that something that's fun to play was fun to make. It's true that sometimes there are moments where you get excited during game development, but at the end of the day the majority of it is just pure work and toil.

In the end, the reviews on Orbo were very kind. Even the negative reviews were at bare minimum sorta funny.

Hilariously the reviews that bothered me the most were actually positive. The perspective of these reviews was that the game was really the story of some little kid taking his thumb out of his mouth and naively making something he thought was fun. It mainly felt like a way for the reviewers to excuse the weaker elements of the game.

These are the reviews I hate the most. I don't care that they were positive. They're infantilizing. It makes it come across as though the shoddier elements of the game weren't a product of a person having a mental breakdown, but of a child smacking blocks together and making mistakes because he didn't know better.

If you really view art like that, I want you to lean in very closely and listen: Most of the time, people suffered to make something you could enjoy. You're welcome to praise or shun the art by itself, but don't patronize the creator for their effort. I didn't have fun making Orbo. I hated it. And even though I hated it I still tried to put passion into it, because I care about my work.

Anyway I'm glad it's over with. If I attempted to develop the game now it would probably be significantly better, but that's mostly because I've found better methods of managing my mental health.

I have to get back to work on Nowhere, and eventually I have to work on Peeb Adventures. For now, though, I'm taking a break. I'm tired.

Before I go I just want to thank some people.

Thank you Ben for being supportive and helping me make this game happen. I couldn't have done it without you, and I mean it.

Thank you Socpens and Grayfruit for streaming the game and for your kind words. It really means a lot to me, and it gave me a lot more confidence about Orbo's Odyssey post-release.

Thank you Tim for helping early on. I know it was a brief period between us, but I do appreciate the work you did.

Thank you (in no particular order) Bryce, Simone, Jett, Aaron, Quinn, Drew, Ian, and Cosme for being supportive of my work.

Thank you for the folks in the private dev server who were particularly supportive as well.

Thanks for reading.

#orbosodyssey

[romiyaro]

Lmfao

ye me loves it too

and save me from guys who are blonde and xntjs cuz fuck

ksjdgksdl loidman, nanamin, zeke sldkhflkdjljlks

#theres no saving us bebe #lets burn like this #best way to go down #we die martyrs of love #rogue talks #riri: my charles dickens #rogue hubs

[nardo-headcanons]

HI FREN!!! Am here to pick your big brain 🧠 🤗 I had a question about finances?! How much do you think ninjas make for being ninjas, by the time shippuden ends, and how much do you think Naruto as hokage makes 🤔 Sasuke as a missing nin has no money so how do they all pay for stuff?! Thank you for even reading this 🤗🤭🙂❤

*SIGH* Finances in the shinobi world... I have thought about this way too often. It should've been a way bigger part of Naruto's worldbuilding, considering the many money driven motvations we see in the story, but it sadly isn't. For the sake of this post I will convert everything into USD, but feel free to convert that into any currency of your choosing. This will be a mixture of canon and headcanon, you've been warned.

Money in the shinobi world

Let's see what the wiki has to say about money in the shinobi world first.

The ryō (両) is the currency used in the Naruto world. It is based on an old Japanese gold coin that was used in Japan before the Meiji period. It was later replaced by the yen. The exchange rate of 1 ryō is 10 yen. Although money isn't focused on much in the story, certain prices and sums of money have been mentioned. For example, Asuma Sarutobi had a bounty of 35,000,000 ryō (...) The Mujina Bandits made a demand to the Ikkyū Madoka, the daimyō of the Land of Fire, of a ransom of 500,000,000 ryō for the safe return of his son, Tentō Madoka, which Ikkyū had to make preparations to gather.

35,000,000 ryō are about $430,000 while 500,000,000 ryō are about $6.24 million.

Shinobi usually earn their money from completing missions. The rewards for these range from 5,000 ryō for a D-rank mission to more than 1,000,000 ryō for an S-rank mission.

5,000 ryō is about $60, while 1,000,000 ryō equate to about $12,400.

Currency

There are three types of currency in the shinobi world, one being copper coins, the other actual money bills and the last one being gold ingots. Copper coins are the most commonly spent currency, while ingots are the rarest. Bills start from 100 ryō ($1.25) and go up to 10,000 ryō ($125), while there are ingots from 10,000 to 1,000,000 ryō ($12,500).

Pricing

In Naruto Part 1, we see Naruto and Jiraya bump into a man who says his designer jacket is worth 10,000 ryō ($1250), to which Jiraya (who is loaded btw) says that designer jackets of that quality aren't usually "that" expensive. Aside from revealing designer brands exist in the shinobi world, it also implies that the pricing in Naruto isn't comparable to our world, since 1000 dollars for a designer jacket isn't outrageously expensive.

While hubs of economy, the ninja villages are mainly used to produce ninjas and economic growth is not their first priority. Most money is made (and exchanged) in the capital cities of the continent, which is where most of the rich and wealthy live.

I do think there is some basic universal healthcare in the hidden leaf village, however, long term/large scale treatments often have to be paid out of pocket. (ex. Mukai Kohinata, Shisui Uchiha)

Salaries

Given the large majority of missions go along the hokage village and a part of the money is taken by the village and the large position of power that the hokage position provides, it's reasonable to assume the hokage earns quite a lot. My estimate is about 100M ryō, which equates to $1.25M.

The average genin, assumed they do 4 D-Rank missions a week and pays an income tax of 20%, makes about $10,300 anually, most of which will be spent on ninja weapons and training equipment.

Aside from official missions, there are also ways to 'illegally' hire ninja, especially when talking about rogue ninja outside of the village. They are directly payed without paying taxes to their village. Aside from state sponsored killing, there are other missions to do, like transporting intel or other goods, which Sasuke most likely could've done during his time in exile, considering he traveled so much. People with ninja skills are a rarity outside of the ninja villages, so hiring a nukenin to do a job for you is a viable option, at least for more wealthy civilians.

When talking about Sasuke in Orochimaru's hideout, I think he gets an allowance from Oro as well as making money doing "illegal" missions. I think Orochimaru comes from a wealthy family and he makes a lot of money from his lab work and experiments. You can hire him/his men for intel gathering and experiments, as well as medical services if you're a nukenin. Out of the sannin, Oro is probably the richest of the three of them.

#naruto #naruto shippuden #naruto headcanons #naruto worldbuilding #naruto fanfiction #sasuke uchiha #naruto uzumaki #hokage #hidden leaf village #konohagakure #orochimaru

[lewdcookies]

"So what am I looking at here?" "A facility, Captain." "Yes, I can see that. What's so special about it?" "According to what we've been able to find, this is facility serves as a trading hub of valuable, and highly illegal goods." "And who does it belong to?" "The Wintermutes, Captain." "Is that so... Assemble a strike team." "They're ready and standing by in hangar one. Just waiting for your word, Captain." "Your initiative is commendable. "That's what I'm here for, Captain."

***

Every self respecting Rogue Trader needs their own hololith table for all their plotting and planning needs.

It's a slightly scuffed/failed 3D printed Planetary Empires tile painted up as a bit of an experiment, as I have two actual tiles I want to use for the same purpose. But I also wanted to see how it looked before I tried it for real.

It's just some Hexwraith flame and a Ulthuan Grey drybrush over White Scar. Then the rim is a black-grey and some metallic drybrush for effect. Honestly, waiting for things to dry took longer than actually painting it.

I have steps for a blue tint that I want to do, just not sure if it'll look good on the more flatter tiles I have. On a different note, I really want to rebase those models. Because cork bases have kind of fallen out of favour for me nowadays. And find a better Rogue Trader model as well.

#Warhammer #warhammer 40k #warhammer 40000 #WH40K #painting warhammer #miniature #warmongers #warhammer #40k #Rogue Trader

[elgaberino-mcoc]

Already Listed: Wizard

In the latest MCOC Wishlist Name Game on Twitter, someone guessed Wizard. This was an incorrect guess. The prompt is a new addition to the Wishlist. Wizard has been on the MCOC Wishlist for years.

Wizard’s rank, 203, and 51% upvote rate, seem a bit low for him.

To vote for (or against) Wizard and similarly ranked, go to Wishlist page 7.

#Wizard #Bentley Wittman #Frightful Four #Fantastic Four rogue #mcoc class tech #synergy hub #villain #recent rank

[spacebarbarianweird]

Dhampirs of the Sword's Coast

Got some Dhampiric brainrot for a while and ended up creating following characters - kids of the Vampire Spawns, "Grandchildren of the Night"

I don't know what I am going to do with them but it probably would be a fun fic series.

Let me know in the comms, what you think about all these.

Eben and Eren - Dalyria's twin sons. They lived in the Underdark until they turned 10 when their human-father took them to the surface. They are identical and extremely attached to each other. Probably, the first-born dhampirs.

Ulsha - Half-Orc Paladin of Latander. Born in the Undedark, she grew up among the Vampire Spawns. At the age of 20, she decided to go to the surface and was so shocked to see the sunlight, that she gave a vow never to return undeground.

Theris - Tiefling Bard. Extremely horny but also very talented as a singer. They were abandoned in the streets at a very young age (probably, the very day it became clear they were a dhampir). They fuck everything that moves and if doesn't move, they move it and fuck.

Alethaine - High-Elf Necromancer. Astarion's daughter, she has mannerisms of a royalty. But at the same time, you can often see her digging graves wearing her best dress because she needs to interrogate some corpse.

Mierni - an autistic human-wizard. Very smart but has little to no communication skills. Was literally adopted by Theris.

Harnotir - a Dwarf-conspirologist. Embodiment of "Pepe Sylvia" meme.

Sven - Human. Was thrown away by his own mother at the age of 12 (for being a dhampir, of course). Sven believes it's possible to create a "kingdom of dhampirs" and very idealistic.

Margot - Human-Berserk, who drinks blood to enter the "raging mode". She is heavily addicted to blood and extremely agressive. Sebastian's daughter.

Nomi - Halfling-Cleric, a delusional person who believes you can "pray dhampirism away"

Mother Rosmer - a vampire. Conceived at least three dhampirs from different vampires when she was mortal. Then, yet another vamire turned her into his bride but got killed by her kids. Runs a brothel with vampires and dhampirs as her workers. Every dhampir knows her "House of Blood Pleasures" is a safe place for them (and a good hub to collect information about possible contracts)

Irina - a noble human. She was raised with a belief dhampirs and vampires are abominations. At the age of 16, her fangs grew and she was forced to run, betrayed by her husband-to-be and his family. Irina never fully accepted who she is and ended up in Mother Rosmer's brothel.

Morth - Half-Elf Rogue. Has mannerisms of Inigo Montoya. He is one of the rare cases when a dhampir has good relationship with both of his parents (this includes the twins and Alethaine). Morth is talkative and street-smart and often acts as a leader (unless he fucks up, and Ulsha has to sort thing out)

Kir - half-drow. His origin is unclear but Alethaine and Mierni suspect he might be the first dhampir of the second-generation (a granchild of the Underdark Spawns). He is Rosmer's right hand and runs the brothel as an administrator. He solves problems with clients and the workers. Bisexual.

Black Dimra - a shaman with her face hidden behind a black mask. The closest thing dhampirs have for a religious leader.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #dnd dhampir #dhampir #dhampirs #vampire spawn #vampire spawns #underdark #meet the dhampirs #dhampirs of the sword's coast #dnd