#Visitor Engagement Design

[teenagebluebirdstrawberry]

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[transform4u]

Through the Looking Glass---bro

Atticus Conway, a 32-year-old art maven with a hipster edge, strolled into the contemporary art gallery, his attire a blend of vintage band t-shirt layered under a worn denim jacket, paired with well-worn Converse sneakers. His boss beckoned from the entrance, amidst the eclectic crowd that mingled beneath the soft glow emanating from the center of the room.

The gallery exuded a fusion of minimalism and sophistication, its white walls serving as a stark backdrop for abstract masterpieces. At its heart stood The Matrix—a sprawling lattice of translucent panels forming a walkable installation, pulsating softly with an ever-shifting spectrum of colors. Attendees, ranging from avant-garde eccentrics to sleek sophisticates, engaged in muted conversations and occasionally clinked glasses as they explored the transformative potential of the Matrix.

Atticus was drawn closer by the installation’s allure, its promise of blurring the boundaries between technology and personal expression. Some visitors had already ventured into The Matrix, their movements triggering dynamic responses from its structure. He observed cautiously, appreciating the installation’s energy and its impact on the gallery-goers.

Designed to accentuate the avant-garde spirit of the exhibition, the gallery itself was a work of art—clean lines and an expansive layout creating an experimental playground. As Atticus navigated through the crowd, the symphony of soft whispers, the hum of the Matrix, and occasional gasps of awe formed a backdrop to the artistic exploration unfolding around him.

The Matrix had been completed only moments before the opening—a testament to the eccentricity of its creator, an old man whose exacting instructions had been followed to the letter. Its otherworldly presence glittered and shimmered, a tunnel stretching infinitely through the gallery space, hinting at vague shapes and possibilities beyond its translucent panels.

Stepping forward with a glass of prosecco in hand, Atticus was the first to enter the walkway. The mirrors inside rippled and shimmered, reflecting his hipster persona back at him a thousand times over. Initially awestruck by the spectacle, he soon felt a peculiar sensation—a lingering feeling that the mirrors were watching him, even when he turned away.

Out of the corner of his eye, Atticus noticed something unsettling—his own reflection seemed to wear a twisted smirk, staring back at him with a gaze that felt intrusive. He dismissed it at first, attributing it to the immersive nature of the installation.

A few steps ahead, he encountered a large panel—a full-length mirror. As he approached, his reflection wiggled and vibrated unnervingly. Peering at himself, Atticus was taken aback by the expression on his own face—it seemed contorted into one of disgust, a stark contrast to his genuine admiration for the art surrounding him.

Attempting to look away, he was startled to hear a voice emanating from the mirror, mocking him with crossed arms and a sarcastic tone. "Don't look away… Look at yourself… God, you're boring…"

Turning around abruptly, Atticus faced his reflection, bewildered by the unexpected interaction. His mirrored counterpart rolled its eyes mockingly, a gesture that cut through the enchantment of the moment. "God, we've got our work cut out for us…"

Atticus Conway, caught in the bewildering depths of The Matrix installation, stared in horror as his reflection twisted into a sinister smile, its eyes seemingly glowing with an unnatural intensity. The once-familiar face now bore an unsettling expression that mocked him with a knowing smirk.

"So, pathetic Atticus," the reflection taunted in a voice that echoed eerily within the mirrored chamber. "But that's why I'm here—here to help. I can see into your very soul. Your desires. Your wants. Your fears. And most importantly, your rage. That fire burning in you."

"What the hell kind of trick is this?" Atticus shouted, his voice trembling with a mixture of anger and fear. He attempted to turn away, to escape the unnerving spectacle unfolding before him, but everywhere he looked, he was met with more mirrors, each reflecting his own image back at him, each bearing a different facet of his personality.

"Oh, there's no escaping now, baby boy," the reflection sneered, its tone dripping with malice. "I'm here to bring out the worst of you, but by the time I'm done with you, you—hah—you certainly won't think so."

Atticus' heart raced as he witnessed the reflections morphing before his eyes. They twisted and contorted, each portraying a different version of himself—a twink with styled hair and fashionable attire; a jock with a confident grin; a nerdy version with glasses and a book in hand; an overweight ex-jock struggling with his identity; a tougher looking black Atticus, a middle eastern Atticus with thick muscles; a desperate straight man clutching at his phone; a closeted young man hiding behind a facade; a frat bro with a swaggering attitude; an arrogant jerk with a sneer.

Each reflection seemed to delve into a fragment of his psyche, exposing vulnerabilities and hidden aspects of his persona that he had never acknowledged.

As Atticus Conway stood amidst the labyrinth of mirrors, the reflections before him began to laugh—a haunting, ominous sound that reverberated through the chamber. The mirrors around them pulsated in response, the soft glow intensifying into a crescendo of brilliant light.

Atticus instinctively raised his arms to shield himself as the mirrors burst with a deafening crash, shards of glass spraying in all directions. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly, feeling the sting of glass against his skin despite his efforts to protect himself.

When he cautiously opened his eyes again, he found himself standing outside the art installation, amidst a stunned crowd of onlookers. They stared at him with a mixture of concern and curiosity, murmuring amongst themselves about what had just transpired.

Blinking to clear his disorientation, Atticus noticed a small cut on his cheek from a stray piece of glass. He reached up to touch the blood, intending to brush it away, when a strange sensation coursed through his body—a surge of energy that seemed to pulse through every fiber of his being.

He let out a frustrated groan, feeling his blood pumping vigorously through his veins. His muscles began to tingle and swell, starting from his core. A heat spread through his stomach as his abdomen tightened and sculpted into a tight, defined six-pack, the muscles rippling beneath his skin.

Atticus gasped as he felt his pecs pulsate with newfound energy, growing and expanding, stretching his shirt taut over his broadening chest. His shoulders widened, his biceps and triceps bulging with strength. His lats flared out, emphasizing his athletic build.

His legs followed suit, his thighs thickening with muscle, his calves firming beneath his jeans. Even his feet seemed to grow slightly, yet miraculously, his clothes adapted seamlessly to accommodate the transformation.

Atticus couldn't help but flex involuntarily, testing the newfound power surging through his body. The sensation was both exhilarating and unnerving, a physical transformation that defied explanation.

As he stood amidst the bewildered crowd, Atticus felt a surge of confidence and vitality unlike anything he had experienced before. With a deep breath, he straightened his posture, his expression a mix of wonder and determination.

A sudden craving gripped him—a primal urge for booze. With a swagger that was uncharacteristic of the laid-back art maven, he pushed his way through to the bar, demanding rudely for a shot of tequila from the startled bartender.

"Give me a shot. Now!" Atticus barked, his voice laced with an entitled tone that seemed to emerge from nowhere.

The bartender hesitated for a moment, taken aback by Atticus' abrupt demeanor, but reluctantly poured him a shot. Atticus downed it swiftly, the fiery liquid burning down his throat and igniting a rush of adrenaline. He slammed the glass back on the counter and demanded another, then another, each shot fueling his sense of entitlement and privilege.

As the liquor coursed through his veins, his features seemed to shift—his jaw becoming more pronounced, his face taking on a chiseled and manly appearance. A widening nose and a scruffy beard began to form on his once-boyish face, while a deep tan spread across his exposed skin.

His demeanor turned cocky, exuding an aura of arrogance that was worlds away from his usual approachable nature. With a burp that echoed through the bar after his final shot, Atticus leaned back, his eyes gleaming with a newfound sense of bravado.

The once-artistic Atticus now seemed like a caricature of bro culture, his clothes appearing garish and mismatched as if chosen to attract attention. His actions drew stares from other patrons, some amused and others bewildered by the sudden change in him.

Atticus leaned heavily on the bar, scanning the room with a self-assured grin. "Hey, bartender," he slurred, his voice tinged with bravado. "You ever seen gains like these?" He flexed his newly muscular arms, oblivious to the bemused looks around him.

The bartender raised an eyebrow, unsure how to respond to this altered version of Atticus. "Uh, sure, man," he replied cautiously. "You hit the gym hard?"

Atticus launched into an intense monologue about his workout routine, detailing his protein intake and the hours spent sculpting his physique. His gestures became exaggerated, his voice booming with enthusiasm as he regaled the bartender with tales of his gym achievements.

But suddenly, a sharp pain pierced his temples. Atticus winced, clutching his head as if trying to ward off the throbbing ache. In that moment, he felt something slipping away—a passion for art, a knowledge of Picasso and Van Gogh fading like a distant tide.

"So, like, uh, this art is like pretty cool right? Like uh, I like uh---" Atticus muttered, his voice slurring. He tried to explain a painting from the gallery, but his words came out muddled and confused. "It's like, colors and stuff, man. You know?"

The bartender couldn't help but chuckle softly. "Yeah, I think I get what you mean."

Slowly, Atticus straightened up, he rubbed his temples, the remnants of his headache lingering. The bartender looked up from wiping the counter and smiled, his gaze lingering on Atticus for a moment before he spoke. "So, you enjoying your night?" His voice was warm and friendly, almost like he was genuinely interested in Atticus' response.

Atticus couldn't help but feel a sense of unease at the question. It wasn't that he wasn't enjoying himself - far from it actually. But something about the way the bartender asked made him uncomfortable. Like there was an underlying tone to his words that made Atticus feel like they were flirting or something worse…

Without thinking, anger filled Atticus as if someone had flipped a switch inside him. He straightened up again and narrowed his eyes at the bartender in response to what felt like unwanted attention. "You fucking hitting on me bro? That's fucking gross dude! I'm not a fucking homo!" He slammed down his drink glass hard enough to make ice cubes rattle against each other loudly while glaring daggers at the man behind the bar who looked taken aback by this sudden outburst of rage from someone who moments ago seemed perfectly content with their company."Faggot!" He spat out before storming off into oblivion where even memories no longer exist.

With the booze and anger flowing through him, Atticus' smile turned into a cocky sneer. He strutted through the art gallery like he owned the place, his eyes scanning for any woman who caught his attention. And when he found one, there was no holding back - he grabbed her ass without hesitation or remorse.

As he passed through the gallery, Atticus continued to shamelessly flirt with every woman in sight. It didn't matter if they were interested or not; all that mattered was satisfying his own twisted desires at this point. But then something happened that threw him off balance: a random chick stopped him to ask about an art piece she didn't understand.

Atticus found the nerdy art chick, Emily, extremely attractive. Her glasses only added to her charm and he couldn't help but feel drawn to her intelligence as well. "Hey there, cutie. What's your name?"

"I'm Emily. And you are?" she says blushing.

Atticus just starts flexing and mumbles, "Oh, just a guy trying to get his dick wet. So, what do you think of this painting here? It looks like some abstract shit to me"

"That's not abstract art; it's actually an interpretation of the artist's feelings about the current state of politics in their country. The colors represent different emotions they experienced while creating it, and the shapes symbolize various issues they faced during that time period… haha...Sorry, but I can tell you don't know much about modern art techniques or concepts used by contemporary artists these days…"

"Fuck off you woke bitch! You think you know everything just because you wear glasses and read books all day long?! Go back to your little nerd cave before I punch those fucking glasses off your face!" Atticus shouts as he storms off to another bar, with a hot busty blonde waitress, leaving behind a trail of confusion mixed with humiliation within himself as well as those around them who witnessed this exchange between two people who couldn't be more different from each other socially speaking.

Atticus made his way to the next bar, his anger still simmering beneath the surface. As he approached, he noticed a ditzy blonde bartender with tight shirt barely containing her busty chest. She was giggling vapidly to herself as she wiped down the counter, completely oblivious to Atticus' presence.

Without hesitation, Atticus began flirting with her shamelessly. He leaned in close enough for their bodies to touch and started leering at her boobs which were on full display through her tight top. His voice grew deeper and developed an accent - it was clear that this man had lived a life far from luxury or education; one filled with hardship and struggle where language wasn't always properly taught or understood but rather learned through experience alone… And it showed in how he spoke now - thick brogue rolling off his tongue like honey dripping from a spoon onto freshly-baked cookies hot out of the oven… Delicious yet dangerous all at once…

"Hey there," Atticus drawled as he placed his order for another drink, "I ain't got no clue 'bout them art pieces ya got hangin' around here but I do know what makes me feel good…" He flexed slightly before continuing on about how dumb those 'art crap' are compared to what really matters in life: getting laid and having fun while doing so without any cares or worries holding you back because let's face it – we only live once so why waste time thinking too much when we could be enjoying ourselves instead?

The bartender, Amber, smiled brightly at him before introducing herself. "I'm Amber," she said sweetly as she leaned closer to him, her cleavage on full display through the tight fabric of her shirt. "And what's your name big guy?"

Atticus paused for a moment, his mind blank as he tried to remember his own damn name. Finally, after a few seconds had passed by without any answer forthcoming from him, he managed to muster up something that sounded vaguely familiar: "Uhhh… Jackson… yeah. Jackson Armstrong."

As they talked more about trivial matters, Atticus couldn't help but think back on his past - growing up in the south where church was mandatory every Sunday; attending college parties every weekend until dawn broke; being a 21-year old frat bro who would probably drop out soon as he now thought college was for losers. It all seemed so distant now compared to this new persona emerging within him – one filled with conservative ideals and passion for tradition above all else… His liberal ideals slipped into oblivion as easily as water down a drainpipe while Jackson took over completely.

"So Amber," Jackson drawled as he leaned in closer to her, his voice dripping with vapid entitlement, "you know what I think would make this night even better?" She shook her head no before he continued on with his plan: "I think we should go back to my place and continue our conversation there… Without all these distractions." He winked at her playfully while giving her ass a subtle squeeze.

As memories of pranking his bros in the frathouse flooded back into Jackson's mind alongside images of blackout drunkenness each night after partying hardcore, one thing became clear - southern pride was something that ran deep within him; it defined who he was at his core regardless if others liked it or not… And right now? Well let's just say Amber looked pretty damn happy about it all too.

As Jackson continued to flirt with Amber, his muscles flexed beneath the tight fabric of his shirt. He couldn't help but feel proud of himself for finally finding someone who shared similar beliefs as him – someone who understood the importance of faith and tradition above all else… Someone who wasn't afraid to speak their mind even if it meant offending others in the process.

"I can't stand this woke bullshit," Jackson said passionately as he leaned closer to her, "It's like everyone wants to be a victim these days instead of standing up for what they believe in." Amber nodded her head in agreement before adding her own thoughts on the matter: "Exactly! It's about time people started speaking out against all this political correctness nonsense."

"You know what else pisses me off?" Jackson asked rhetorically while flexing again just for good measure, "All these damn snowflakes crying about how hard life is because they weren't born white or straight or rich or whatever else it is that bothers them nowadays…" He shook his head disapprovingly at society as a whole before continuing on with his rant: "But you know what? I wouldn't change a thing about being a white, straight republican man!"

The rest of the night was a blur for Jackson. One moment they were in the bar flirting and flexing, and then suddenly they found themselves back at his smelly frathouse… It didn't matter though because all that mattered now was fucking Amber senseless while belittling her every step of the way – being as crude and rude as possible just to get off on it all…

"You like that you stupid bitch?" He asked her between gritted teeth before slapping her ass hard enough to leave a red mark. She moaned out loud in response, begging him for more which only served to fuel his desire even further…

As he took in the football and wrestling trophies lining the walls alongside other mementos from his past glory days, Jackson grabbed a half-drunk beer from the side table before turning back towards Amber who lay naked on his bed with cum dripping down her leg. "You know what else would be fun?" He asked rhetorically while chugging down another swig of beer, "Telling everyone at school how much of a slut you are…" His voice trailed off into laughter which only served to further embarrass Amber even more than she already had been during their encounter together.

Jackson was the biggest asshole on campus – feared by nerds, lusted after by every chick, and loved by his frat bros. He was an awful conservative douchebag who always grunted in the gym while flexing his muscles; he truly believed himself to be God's gift to women… And it showed in how he treated them – with disdain and entitlement instead of respect or compassion.

As word spread about his encounter with Amber (which he made sure happened as soon as possible), Jackson couldn't help but feel proud of himself for finally being able to humiliate someone else publicly just like they had done to him countless times throughout high school… It wasn't long before every girl on campus wanted a piece of him – whether it be for sex or simply attention from such an infamous figure at their university… And every guy? Well let's just say they all wanted to be friends with Jackson so that they could ride his coattails into popularity themselves without having any real skill or talent beyond being part of "the group".

[visit-new-york]

What are the key attractions within Brooklyn Bridge Park?

Nestled along the East River with the iconic Brooklyn Bridge as its backdrop, Brooklyn Bridge Park stands as a testament to urban revitalization and green space innovation. This sprawling oasis, spanning 85 acres along the Brooklyn waterfront, offers a harmonious blend of recreational spaces, natural beauty, and stunning views of the Manhattan skyline. As visitors stroll through its well-manicured lawns and engaging attractions, they are treated to an array of experiences that make Brooklyn Bridge Park a must-visit destination. Let's delve into the key attractions that contribute to the allure of this urban gem.

Brooklyn Bridge Promenade:

The park's crowning jewel, the Brooklyn Bridge Promenade, provides an unrivaled vantage point to marvel at the majesty of the Brooklyn Bridge and the Manhattan skyline. As day turns to night, the twinkling city lights create a breathtaking panorama. The promenade offers a serene escape from the city buzz, making it a favorite spot for joggers, cyclists, and leisurely strollers alike.

Pier 1: Harbor View Lawn:

Pier 1 welcomes visitors with the expansive Harbor View Lawn, a lush green space that hosts a variety of events, from outdoor movie nights to yoga classes. The unobstructed views of the Statue of Liberty and the Manhattan skyline make it an ideal spot for picnics, relaxation, and taking in the maritime activity on the river.

Pier 2: Sports and Recreation Hub:

For the sports enthusiasts, Pier 2 is a haven of activity. Basketball and handball courts, roller skating rinks, and even a shuffleboard court cater to diverse interests. Whether you're a seasoned athlete or just looking to enjoy a friendly game, Pier 2 is the place to break a sweat with the Manhattan skyline as your backdrop.

Jane's Carousel:

Nestled in a glass pavilion at the edge of the park, Jane's Carousel is a vintage treasure that adds a touch of nostalgia to Brooklyn Bridge Park. Dating back to 1922, this meticulously restored carousel offers enchanting rides for visitors of all ages. The combination of the beautifully carved horses and the sparkling views of the East River creates a magical experience.

Pier 6: Playgrounds and Picnic Areas:

Pier 6 is a family-friendly haven featuring playgrounds designed to spark the imagination of young adventurers. Water features, climbing structures, and ample seating make this area a hotspot for families. The nearby picnic areas are perfect for a leisurely lunch, providing a chance to recharge amid the park's natural beauty.

Environmental Education Center:

For those seeking a deeper understanding of the local ecosystem, the Environmental Education Center on Pier 1 offers interactive exhibits and educational programs. Visitors can learn about the diverse plant and animal life thriving in and around the park, fostering a sense of appreciation for the environment.

Conclusion:

Brooklyn Bridge Park is a testament to the transformative power of urban planning and community engagement. Its diverse attractions cater to a wide range of interests, making it a destination that resonates with both locals and tourists. As you explore the park's various offerings, you'll find a harmonious blend of recreation, culture, and natural beauty, making Brooklyn Bridge Park a must-visit destination for anyone seeking an enriching and picturesque urban escape.

[deliciousangelfestival]

"Darling, bad luck seems endless." - Bucky Barnes - 2

Summary: You've always been haunted by bad luck your entire life, despising it deeply, until you meet someone who finds it amusing.

Character: softdark!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 .

Author's Note: Hello, everyone; this story is for thesleepover eventhosted by @the-slumberparty. What I chose is a strawberry sundae with gummy bears as the topping.

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more.

Bucky didn’t trust you yet. To test if what you said about your lousy luck was true, he sent you to his competitor, Damien, a mafia boss who owed money to Bucky.

Damien spent most of his time at a museum. Bucky gave you an order, “And I want to see if what you said is true.”

You didn’t thoroughly dislike the idea because, as an artist, you enjoyed going to museums. The museum was a grand, historical building with high ceilings and intricate architecture. Walking through the halls filled with timeless masterpieces, you felt a sense of calm despite the task at hand.

As you wandered, you spotted Damien. He was exactly as Bucky had described: an older man, about the same age as Sir Galileo, with an air of authority and a sharp gaze. You stood at a respectful distance, admiring the same painting he was fixated on—"Portrait of Madame X."

Noticing your interest, Damien turned to you. “A fine piece, isn’t it?” he said, his voice rich and cultured. “John Singer Sargent’s ‘Portrait of Madame X’. It caused quite a scandal when it was first exhibited.”

You listened intently as he explained the history and significance of the painting. His passion for art was evident, and you found yourself genuinely engaged in the conversation.

Suddenly, your phone rang. It was Bucky. “Where’s the bad luck? I see you talking to him without anything happening,” he demanded.

“Uhm…” You hesitated. You never knew when bad luck would strike.

Just then, a scream pierced the air. “Kyaa!”

You turned to see another visitor pointing in horror. The painting you had been admiring had fallen off the wall, landing dangerously close to Damien. You were too stunned to speak.

“No kidding,” Bucky muttered through the phone, equally shocked. It seemed impossible for a securely hung painting to suddenly fall in a museum. He was beginning to believe your curse might be real.

For the second test, Bucky sent you to a café. “Just choose a table and sit near my other competitor, Ivan. It’s an easy task,” he instructed.

You entered the cozy café, its atmosphere warm and inviting with the smell of freshly brewed coffee and pastries. You found a table near Ivan and started sketching another jewelry design for Bucky.

Ivan, seated nearby, glanced over and noticed your drawing. “That’s quite impressive,” he remarked, leaning in slightly.

“Thank you,” you replied, offering a polite smile.

“What inspires your designs?” he asked, genuinely curious.

Before you could answer, a waitress tripped and spilled a hot cup of coffee right onto Ivan’s thigh. He yelped in pain and surprise, the conversation abruptly ending.

Bucky, watching everything unfold on a screen, was astounded. “You really do bring bad luck.”

“...” You remained silent, unsure of how to respond.

“But I’m getting all the advantages,” Bucky continued with a sly grin. “Thank you.”

You didn’t know whether to feel offended or relieved that Bucky was starting to believe you.

The last incident that convinced Bucky was when he brought you to a ball party hosted by another gangster whom Bucky despised, who was there to show off his wealth.

The host planned to reveal a rare diamond during the party, but it was stolen. This was unexpected and seemingly impossible due to the high level of security. While everyone else panicked, Bucky remained calm. He looked at you and said, "You’re my lucky charm."

🍀🍀🍀🍀🍀

All these experiences made your once dull life exciting. You started to appreciate the bad luck you had. You realized that working with Sir Galileo was the longest job you had ever held.

One day, you asked him if he had ever faced misfortune. Surprisingly, he said, “I did. My former driver got into an accident, and the electricity short-circuited on the first day you worked here.”

You were shocked and felt guilty. “It must be because of me.”

He shook his head and said, “It’s nothing. I’ve lived a long time and faced a lot of things, especially working with gangsters and mafia. I just keep on living.”

‘Just keep on living.’ He’s right. Even with bad luck, you continued living. Life always punched you to the ground, but you got back up again.

Slowly, you started liking your bad luck. You experienced exciting events, even assisting Bucky in getting rid of his rival businesses.

But then you noticed that your bad luck didn’t happen as often. In fact, you started getting lucky.

You found $100 on the street one day, got a free coffee when the barista mistakenly made an extra, and even won a small prize in a local raffle. It felt like life was turning around.

Curious, you revisited the same paranormal. She said, “Bad luck left after you started liking it.”

“How?” you asked, bewildered.

“It’s complicated,” she replied with a knowing smile.

You still couldn’t believe it. You remembered the saying, “Fall in love with your problems, and maybe they will leave you too.”

Damn. Even bad luck left you.

If there was no bad luck, how could you help Bucky?

Since then, you stopped meeting Bucky, leaving him wondering. Days turned into weeks, and Bucky felt your absence deeply. Determined, he went to find you.

“Do you think I only wanted you because of your bad luck?” he asked, his eyes searching yours.

“Didn’t you?” you replied, your heart pounding.

Bucky stepped closer, his gaze intense. “I said before, you’re the only woman who’s willing to risk her life for me.”

You felt a warmth spread through you as he spoke. "Bucky, I—"

He interrupted, "It's not just your bad luck. It's you. You're brave, resilient, and you’ve changed my life in ways I never expected. I don't want to lose that. I don't want to lose you."

You looked into his eyes, seeing a depth of sincerity that took your breath away. "I never thought I'd hear you say that," you said softly.

"I mean it," he replied, taking your hand in his. "You bring something into my life that no one else ever has. Bad luck or not, I want you with me."

For a moment, you hesitated, memories of your past misfortunes flashing through your mind. But then you realized that with Bucky, you had faced and overcome those challenges together. And now, without the constant shadow of bad luck, you felt a new kind of strength.

"You really mean it?" you asked, needing to be sure.

He nodded, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Yes, I do. We make a great team. And I want us to continue, no matter what comes our way."

You smiled back, feeling a sense of relief and joy wash over you. "Alright, Bucky. Let's face the future together."

With that, he pulled you into a tender embrace, holding you close. "Thank you," he whispered. "For everything."

You looked up at him, your heart full. "Thank you for believing in me."

From that moment on, your life with Bucky was filled with new adventures, challenges, love, and support. Together, you faced whatever came your way, more vital than ever. And you knew that, no matter what, you would always have each other.

-the end-

Taglist:

@thezombieprostitute

@thetravelingtyper

@scott-loki-barnes

@mostlymarvelgirl

@chemtrails-club

@dexter99

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@kjah97

@tfatwsoldir

@buckysdoll85

@lokislady82

[blackbackedjackal]

You know I've been feeling a little anxious bc Captain's werewolf form and June's shadowy version of her werewolf form look a lot a like and I always hope no one accuses either of us of design theft like it happened to me with one of my old characters, though I made his werewolf form in like 2020. June is cool as hell (if not cooler) I wouldn't want someone to be a jerk about it. Maybe I should draw them together shaking hands as a preventive measure lol

Heya! I hope this is ok to post but please don't worry about it! June's design is based off of other (mostly animated) werewolf designs I liked, but was given meaning through her story and the reason as to /why/ her form looks a certain way.

It's not that she's just shadowy, it's an intentional visual representation of black trauma. There's are cultural and social stigmas of Black people being systematically denied access to mental health resources or being told that they're just "lazy" or "crazy" or "faking it". June's form is altered by her mental/emotional state, it's what she /believes/ she is due to her past trauma and her story is, in part, learning deal with her trauma in a healthy way.

June's form is also based on the lesser known theories that The Beast of Gévaudan (which June is related to via her lycan lineage) was either a product of mass hysteria from the high number of wolf attacks in the region or was potentially a serial killer. The way the beast is often described (black fur, red lips, white/yellowed eyes and teeth) is similar to racist depictions of Black people in the past. I used this as a basis for designing her form. It's the intention and her story that's important, followed by visuals that are found within the werewolf genre and outside of it.

I'm a little too tired to go more in-depth but I'll leave this quote from the Jim Crow museum:

The mission of the Jim Crow Museum is straightforward: use items of intolerance to teach tolerance. We examine the historical patterns of race relations and the origins and consequences of racist depictions. The aim is to engage visitors in open and honest dialogues about this country's racial history...The Jim Crow Museum is founded on the belief that open, honest, even painful discussions about race are necessary to avoid yesterday's mistakes.

June's story is about racism. It's about intolerance towards black queer folk. It's about how Black people (especially black women) have to suffer under a system that denies them mental health resources, resulting in many Black people turning to unhealthy coping mechanisms. Her design was me intentionally marrying old werewolf motifs with a different perspective on the werewolf genre (since even today is it still mostly a white space). There's a stark difference to me when someone comes up with a similar design independently vs when someone is actively lifting direct inspiration from my work and twisting the meaning in the process.

[aestradairio]

. the Aestra Art House Gallery Exhibition 𓊆ྀི❤︎𓊇ྀི

— Nestled in the heart of a bustling city, a new art gallery has opened its doors, inviting art enthusiasts to experience a unique and inspiring event. Fully glamed, you decided to attend this event as it seemed very important after you received the invitation.

As you approach the gallery, you’re welcomed by an elegant facade, its modern architecture blending seamlessly with the urban surroundings. The large windows offer glimpses of the art inside, drawing you in with their promise of discovery. Stepping through the grand entrance, you find yourself in a serene and minimalist lobby. The atmosphere is calm and inviting, with light colors and tasteful decor creating a sense of tranquility.

Standing near the entrance is an elegant lady, dressed in a chic, tailored outfit that exudes both sophistication and warmth. Her attire is a perfect blend of classic and modern, with a flowing silk blouse paired with a sleek pencil skirt, complemented by tasteful jewelry that adds a touch of sparkle without being overpowering. Her posture is poised, and she carries herself with a grace that is both welcoming and refined.

With a genuine smile, she steps forward to greet you. Her voice is warm and melodic, instantly putting you at ease.

"Welcome to our humble Gallery." she says, her eyes twinkling with enthusiasm. "We're delighted to have you here. My name is Aestra , and I'll be your guide today."

She extends her hand for a light, friendly handshake, her grip firm yet gentle. As she leads you into the main gallery, she gestures gracefully to the various sections.

"We have a wonderful collection of art from talented artists around the world. Each room has a unique theme designed to inspire your creativity and imagination. If you have any questions or need any assistance, please don't hesitate to ask me."

Her demeanor is both professional and approachable, making you feel not just a visitor but a valued guest. Throughout your tour, she provides insightful commentary on the artworks, her passion for art evident in every word. Her knowledge is extensive, yet she shares it in a way that is engaging and accessible, ensuring you feel connected to the art and the stories behind each piece.

As you move through the gallery, Aestra checks in with you periodically, offering additional information and answering any questions you might have. Her presence is a perfect balance of attentive and unobtrusive, allowing you to enjoy the exhibition at your own pace.

— Welcome to the Aestra Art Exhibition. This exhibition features a curated collection of artworks, each showcased in thoughtfully designed rooms that offer a different theme, perfect for sparking creativity and helping you build your own artwork.

The exhibition is divided into six distinct rooms, each with a unique theme designed to inspire your creativity and help you craft beautiful artwork. Each room in the gallery is a portal to a different world, that transports you between dimensions and allows you to see the beauty of other worlds realms.

1.Dreamy Pastels Room 2.Cozy Cottage Room

3.Cosmic Wonders Room 4.Nostalgia Nook Room

5.Shades of Simplicity Room 6.Noble Narratives Room

୭ ˚. You are required to do your own artwork inspired by a well chosen room that the host of the exhibition will give you @aestraevents . all you have to do is send them a letter and ask them to give you a distinct room.

୭ ˚. Show your support by liking and reblogging this event post. Let your friends know about this magical experience! Spread the word by mentioning three of your closest friends in your reblog. Share the creativity and inspiration with those who matter most and secure your place in this artistic adventure by commenting 'joining' in the comments section below.

୭ ˚. Immerse yourself in the themes of our exhibition and craft your unique artwork. Be sure to tag us and use the hashtag #. ✿ ae–art house event⠀ ⠀❀𓊇⠀ .⠀ , so we can admire your creation.

Originality is Key: Please ensure your artwork is a reflection of your own creativity. Any copied artworks will lead to disqualification.

We can't wait to see your beautiful artworks and share in this artistic celebration with you!

Warm regards,

—The Lady Aestra.

my honored list⁚ @p-oisn @n-americano @neapolitism @gumishio @hcvenue @muruffin @sugarish @sukisng @obrigados @orientarla @iyuliae @iyunjin @c-heriis @i6gyu @ieailu @ritualdenoche @voladitos @vapeofdolls @versocanibal @nulliaely @winterfea @fre-sitas @flordoipe @eternacrueldad @snowithv @chaer-yeons @coralfragil @chaetopia @chaewebs @lacediore @graveroom @xooee @pommecita @zahraism @taroism @awwriri @rkkuri .

my note⁚ thanks guys for 100+ followers finally I m hosting my first event I worked hard on this for the last two weeks to host it on my first month anniversary I wish you all appreciate it🫶🏻❕

[pixiesfz]

Your SK ficcc 🥹🫶 please write more for Sam

wish is my command (reminder to everyone to send in request to the inbox I don’t judge for anything and I’ll most likely write it)

tattoo artist s.k

plot: Sam goes with Millie to watch her get a tattoo and finds the tattoo artist extremely attractive, she forgets to ask for your number so instead comes back the next week to get a tattoo herself.

warning: none really I guess (I was tempted to turn this into smut but it would only work if Sam was the bottom and I can not imagine that)

Millie was a frequent visitor to your shop, you were the magical artist who used her arm as a canvas after all.

She came in as usual, sometimes bringing a friend who was usually her boyfriend but when she came in with a friend behind her you smiled.

“Hi I’m y/n” you introduced yourself and the girl looked up.

Sam stopped for a second as she saw the girl in front of her, thankfully she hadn’t taken of her sunglasses yet so you couldn’t see how wide her eyes had opened.

When Millie said that she would like her tattoo artist she thought it would be a funny guy in his 30’s that probably had too many muscles to count.

She was not expecting you.

You with your shiny hair and surprisingly not tatted body which seemed to be glowing u der the harsh light behind you.

“I uh I- Sam” she stuttered and Millie turned her face away in embarrassment “I thought I recognised you Sam Kerr right?” You asked as you pulled out the chair for Millie to sit in “yeah” Sam said as she finally took her glasses of her face and onto her head.

“Our leading Striker” Millie added in as she winked to Sam when you turned around as Sam looked at her in bewilderment.

“So I hear” you smirked and Millie sat down “we here to finally finish this beauty?” You asked Millie who smiled “of course we are” she said and got comfy.

“Sam there’s a seat there if you’d like?” You told the girl who nodded “actually is there a toilet anywhere?” She asked and you nodded “just out the back on the left” you explained and she nodded and walked off.

When she went out of earshot you turned to Millie “Millie!” You whisper shouted “I told you that you would like her”

“And she’s Australian that’s like 1000+ points in my book” you gasped “if you want I can fall asleep in the chair so you can talk to her more” Millie offered and you rolled your eyes “nonsense” you said and then looked to wear the girl had gone “actually maybe”.

You had started tattooing Millie as she talked about her recent engagement when Sam walked back in “Sammy!” Millie cheered in her spot “does it not hurt?” She asked her friend with a smirk which you stopped to look at “you insinuating that I hurt my clients Kerr?” You asked and she blinked her eyes

“No I would never I was just-“ “I’m pulling your leg Sam you’re fine” you laughed and she sat down “ok” she muttered and you smiled.

She was very cute.

From her back pony tail, to her nicely designed shirt and shorts.

She caught you staring for a second before she cheekily pointed at Millie’s arm “can I tattoo something on you Mills?” She asked and Millie glared at the girl “lay a finger on me and I will break you” she warned and you and Sam looked at each other and laughed.

“Alrighty then, I need to focus” you said as you all three talked about soccer, then Sam asked if you had any partners “unfortunately not, most women don’t like when their girlfriends have to work night shifts” you admitted and Sam straightened her back.

You liked girls.

“I get that, most girls don’t like dating someone who has to travel a lot” she agreed and you smiled.

Sam liked girls.

By this stage Millie has miraculously fallen asleep and you pulled Sam’s wheel chair she was sitting on over.

“Watch this” you said as you went back to work on Millie’s arm, Sam watched as the ink stained into Millie’s skin, changing the colour of the skin that was still there.

“It’s cool isn’t it?” You asked and turned to her, only to find her already looking at you “yeah really cool” she hummed and you smiled “I only have a little bit to go so you can stay here and wake the devil up when I’m finished” you smirked and Sam laughed “okay”.

You finished up on Millie and on their way out, you and Sam kept on exchanging looks and Millie smirked, proud of herself.

“So we’ll probably see you next week? Sam asked and you crossed your head “unfortunately Millie’s arms all done so unless any of you want a tattoo you guys are free of me” you explained “oh” was all Sam said as she looked at the floor.

When they left you turned to see your co-worker who shrugged.

“If it makes you feel any better, If I was a girl and also into women I would have given you my number”

“Thankyou Terry”.

Millie explained the story to the team at the next training as they all turned to Sam.

“Are you mentally ill” Erin started off and Millie laughed “No seriously when we got into the car Sam had realised what she hadn’t done and freaked out on me”

“Guys can we not talk about this” Sam groaned and Niamh and Jessie both crossed their heads “no way” the England player started and Jessie looked at her “Why don’t you just go back to the shop?” She asked and Sam looked up “That’s actually a really good idea”

“Wait seriously none of you guys thought about that yet?” Jessie asked as Millie, Erin and Sam all crossed their heads.

Jessie looked at her team mates win worry as she looked at Niamh who shared her expression “oh my god”.

So that’s how Sam ended up I front of your shop at 10 pm with a choppy photo of a cool bird she saw once at a walk.

“Hey Kerr” you smiled as you opened the door for her to come in “hey y/n” she said and walked in “what gives me the pleasure” you joked and Sam smiled “I would like to get a tattoo” she explained and you nodded your head “I will say when someone comes to me with stupid tattoo ideas I turn them away so what you got?” You asked as you patted the chair.

Sam looked at you as you sorted out your inks, you wore a cropped T-shirt singlet and dark jeans but your apron covered the front half of your toned stomach which she was dying to see.

“Just something small on my wrist, just a bird” she shrugged and you nodded “any meaning?” You asked softly and Sam crossed her head “just something I like”.

You ignored Sam’s stares as you started the tattoo “what made you realise you want to get another tattoo?” You asked and Sam smirked “well you see my friend got one the other day by this really gorgeous lady”

You smirked at the girl who sat next to you “well this sounds interesting” you said as you went back to the almost finished tattoo.

“Yeah well I was like being really stupid and forgot to ask for her number” Sam dragged on and you smiled “I bet she really wanted that number” you said and Sam smiled.

“Can I have your number?”

“But what about the tattoo girl?” You asked with a fake gasp and Sam rolled her eyes.

“Yes I will gladly have your number Sam”.

[juniper-simblr]

New Bleakfort Public School

In response to the growing community of Bleakfort, a new public elementary school has been built, providing a welcoming and dynamic environment for the town's youngest students. The school stands as a beacon of learning and creativity, designed to nurture curiosity and foster a love of education.

Upon entering, students and visitors are greeted by a cheerful lobby decorated with student artwork and community projects. From this lobby, the children can access all classrooms and the cafeteria.

Classroom A: A spacious, well-equipped room where core subjects are taught. The classroom features everything needed and even has a reading corner stocked with books suitable for all reading levels. Next to the teacher's desk, the classroom womrat Beatle lives.

Science room: This room is designed to ignite curiosity and foster a love for science. It includes lab tables, microscopes, and a variety of scientific equipment for hands-on experiments and activities. Displays of student projects and educational posters line the walls, creating an inspiring learning environment.

Art room: A vibrant space filled with art supplies and creative materials. Easels, drawing tables, and a variety of crafting tools are available for students to explore their artistic talents. The walls are to be adorned with rotating displays of student artwork, celebrating their creativity.

Workshop: A workshop where students can engage in mechanical, building, and woodworking projects. The room is equipped with tools and safety gear, workbenches, and materials for various projects. This hands-on space encourages problem-solving skills and practical learning.

[miauentity]

Sharing my own TNMN headcanons bcoz why nawt?! (Below the cut)

lemme start with the girlies

♡ The Sverchzt twins are french-russian

♡ Elenois is a lot more shy/reserved and has low self-esteem. Selenne, on the other hand, is quite the opposite. I'm basing this off solely on their nightmare counterparts Lilith and Anazareth, specifically their responses when you ask them about their appearance

For reference, Lilith only says that "everything is in order with her appearance" while the other residents say theyre perfect or in the case with Anazareth, that she's "just as beautiful as ever"

♡ Speaking of Lilith and Anazareth, I really like the trope that they are the polar opposite of each other; from stylistic choices, orderliness to even intimate preferences.

Lilith likes to be clean and tidy. She's also a masochist (not necessarily in a sexual way) which is why she likes to wear insanely tight corsets. Anazareth doesn't care about the messes she makes, and certainly prefers to see others suffer her wrath.

♡ Lilith is a lesbian (Elenois too). Like really, the Lilith?! The first woman made from soil at the same time but not with Adam's flesh??? The first feminist !?!?@, 😍😍. Ok in all seriousness, both could be sapphic-leaning and im open to that

♡ Lilith and Anazareth aren't actually who they were named after. They were named after two mysterious "evil" spirits who helped their mother out during difficult times. Eventually, all three were unjustly executed for worshipping "demons" and engaging in "witchcraft" in the victorian era

♡ Angus is trans. But doesn't know that it's not a common cis experience to want to be a woman as a self-identifying man

♡ Despite separating, Francis still harbors feelings for Nacha and is a bit creepy about it. Though, Nacha has moved on (sort of). Francis continues to be a milkman despite the crappy pay so that he could regularly deliver cases to her restaurant. He also sneaks in bottles for Anastacha

♡ ok this depends on the doorman you interpret but if they are young, Margarette would definitely treat them as her own nibling/grandchild since she's never had her own. She is quite affectionate, would teach the young doorman how to crochet and invite them for tea occassionally

♡ Lois is as hospitable as Margarette. Roman is too wary of strangers and gets a bit cranky whenever there are visitors coming over. But honestly its ok bc Lois keeps him grounded

♡ Robertsky also suffers from low self-esteem. But unlike Elenois, he copes with it by being conceited. He is jealous of Albertsky for being "more popular with the ladies" when in reality, it's just an exaggeration of his perception of his brother.

♡ the Peachman brothers own their shoemaking business

♡ Arnold publishes educational books and writes activist journals. He is quite popular for his involvement in politics and almost crossed the DDD once... in response, the DDD secretly sent a doppelganger of him with stitched eyes as a warning

♡ Steven is a former veteran and likely suffers from PTSD. He switched to becoming a regular pilot in the local airport since there was a very high demand for the job

♡ Mclooy managed his own restaurant before officially retiring. He is a really, really good cook and often volunteers with Nacha when the neighbors gather for a potluck/ cookout.

♡ Rafttellyn only married Alf for the money 😭😭😭😭 i mean come on, shes young, married a lawyer whose probably leagues older than her, is a housewife and carries expensive jewelry and a designer bag 😳

♡ I really like the idea that Mia and Afton are just each other's beards. Mia probably has a crush on Nacha and may or may not be subtly flirting with her.

♡ On the flip side, if they are in a genuine relationship, I do think that Mia resents Afton and is falling out of love. Maybe because Afton is too obsessed with his job that he doesnt give enough attention to her

[jzargo]

I have a few criticisms for the endgame of Baldur's Gate 3, but one of my big ones is that the Netherbrain is...not a good villain.

Yes, we've been hearing about the 'Absolute' the entire game. The mysterious god who has a vast, terrifying cult under her control. The mystery builds and builds until you discover, at the end of Act 2, that the Absolute is in fact an Elder Brain being puppeteered by the Chosen Three (one of whom was the main villain of Act 2). Throughout all this time, there is also the mystery of the Dream Visitor.

We then spend the entirety of Act 3 dealing with the remaining Chosen and the revelation that the Dream Visitor is the Emperor. The Netherbrain is a looming threat, but it is abstract in comparison to the real, tangible threats that are Orin, Gortash, and the Emperor.

And none of them are the final boss.

Yes, depending on your actions, the Emperor may ally with the Netherbrain at the very end; but at that point he has become a puppet of the Netherbrain; another thrall, a stepping stone to reaching the true threat: the Netherbrain.

But it is just exhausting to go through fighting Orin and Gortash, to only then have to go against the Elder Brain and sit through a scene where no matter what you do, no matter what you roll or what choices you make, the same outcome always occurs: the Netherbrain breaks free and a bigger and even more exhausting end battle waits for you.

The game tries to spin it so that the Netherbrain was actually the secret mastermind the entire time - manipulating the Chosen Three and biding its time - but it just doesn't feel earned. They've already done a villain switcheroo on us: the Absolute isn't a god, it's an Elder Brain being controlled by the Chosen of the Dead Three. Switching it back and saying "Psych! The Netherbrain was the real final boss the entire time" feels cheap. What's more, the Netherbrain just isn't a compelling villain.

I know Dragon Age and Baldur's Gate comparisons are tired at this point, but look at Dragon Age: Origins. The Archdemon may be the final boss, but the villain most people talk and engage with is Loghain. He's compelling, he has motivations and drives, and depending on what background you picked his actions could have serious repercussions for your characters' friends and family. Loghain is the villain; the Archdemon is just a big monster. And it's the same with the Netherbrain.

Just look at how people are engaging with the characters; there's a plethora of meta being written about Thorm, Gortash, Orin, and the Emperor. I'm not seeing the Netherbrain get that same level of interaction. Though it is sentient and has its desires (the Illithid Grand Design), it's just a slightly more intelligent Big Monster that needs slaying. And for an RPG, a game that should be character focused, that is an immensely disappointing final boss.

I think instead, depending on player choice, one of the three Act 3 antagonists - Orin, Gortash, or the Emperor - ascends, takes full control of the Netherbrain, and they're who you have to fight. The final battle has more impact that way - you're fighting against a villain who has actual character, who you potentially have built an actual relationship and history with, and who you actually care about fighting. Imagine how satisfying it would be for the final battle to be against Gortash if you're playing Origin Wyll or Karlach? How much more tragic it would be if the Dark Urge's duel with Orin was the final battle instead of a mid-Act 3 moment? How earned it would feel for it to be the Emperor you're fighting against if you've spent the entire game being manipulated by him?

There are a plethora of interesting and compelling villains in Baldur's Gate 3, and for some reason none of them are the final boss. The final boss is just a big monster. And that's such a big letdown.

[bliow]

AGARTHA Aİ - DEVASA+ (2)

In today’s digital landscape, a captivating and functional website is crucial for any business looking to thrive online. Full service web design encompasses a comprehensive approach, ensuring every aspect of your site is tailored to meet your unique needs. From the initial concept to the final launch, this service provides an array of offerings, including website service, responsive web design, and custom design services. Whether you’re a startup seeking to establish your brand or an established enterprise aiming to enhance your online presence, understanding the elements of full service web design is essential. 

Full service web design

Full service web design encompasses all aspects of creating a website, from initial conceptualization to ongoing maintenance. This approach ensures that every detail is carefully considered to meet the specific needs of a business or individual. With a team of experienced designers and developers, full service web design offers a seamless experience that integrates aesthetics, functionality, and user experience.

One of the key advantages of opting for a full service web design is the cohesion of the website elements. Since all parts of the project are managed by a single team, there is less chance for miscommunication or inconsistency in design. This results in a more polished final product that reflects the brand’s identity while providing an engaging experience for visitors.

Additionally, full service web design allows for customized solutions tailored to unique requirements. Whether you need an e-commerce platform, a portfolio site, or a blog, a full service provider will offer dedicated support and expert advice throughout the entire process, ensuring your vision comes to life exactly as you imagined.

Website service

In today's digital landscape, website service is essential for businesses to thrive and maintain an online presence. A well-structured website serves as a powerful tool that encourages customer engagement and drives sales. By investing in a comprehensive website service, businesses can ensure that their website not only looks great but also functions seamlessly across all devices.

A key aspect of website service is the ability to optimize for search engines. By implementing SEO best practices, businesses can enhance their visibility and attract more organic traffic. This is where a reliable website service provider plays a crucial role, as they possess the expertise and techniques necessary to elevate your search engine rankings.

Furthermore, ongoing support and maintenance are vital components of a reliable website service. As technology evolves and user needs change, having a team that can promptly address issues or updates will keep your website relevant and effective in reaching target audiences. This ongoing relationship is instrumental in achieving long-term success in the digital realm.

Responsive web design

Responsive web design is an essential aspect of modern web development that ensures a seamless user experience across a variety of devices. With the increasing use of smartphones and tablets, having a website that adapts to different screen sizes is not just a luxury but a necessity.

The core principle of responsive web design is fluidity. This means that the layout of your website adjusts dynamically based on the screen width, ensuring that content remains accessible and visually appealing regardless of the device used. This approach improves usability and can significantly boost conversion rates.

Incorporating responsive web design techniques involves using flexible grids, images, and CSS media queries. These elements work together to create a layout that responds gracefully to changes in screen size, making your website not only functional but also competitive in the digital marketplace.

Custom design services

In today's digital landscape, custom design services have emerged as a vital component of creating a strong online presence. Businesses understand that a one-size-fits-all approach does not cater to their unique needs and branding. Therefore, opting for custom design services allows them to differentiate themselves in a crowded market.

These services offer tailored solutions that resonate with a company's specifics, from colors to typography and layout. By leveraging custom design services, businesses can ensure that their websites not only reflect their brand identity but also provide an intuitive user experience. This is crucial for keeping visitors engaged and encouraging them to take the desired actions.

Investing in custom design services ultimately contributes to better customer satisfaction and improved conversion rates. With a website designed specifically for their target audience, businesses can more effectively communicate their message and achieve their goals. This bespoke approach is invaluable in today's competitive environment.

[visit-new-york]

Does Brooklyn Bridge Park Have Any Family Friendly Amenities or Play Areas?

Brooklyn Bridge Park, nestled along the East River with stunning views of the Manhattan skyline and the iconic Brooklyn Bridge, is not only a picturesque destination for adults but also a haven for families seeking recreation and relaxation. As one of New York City's most beloved waterfront parks, it boasts an array of family-friendly amenities and play areas that make it a perfect spot for parents and children alike.

Playgrounds:

One of the standout features of Brooklyn Bridge Park is its well-designed and diverse playgrounds. The park offers several playgrounds tailored to different age groups, ensuring that children of all ages have a safe and enjoyable place to play. The Main Street Playground, for instance, is equipped with state-of-the-art play structures, swings, and climbing equipment that cater to both toddlers and older kids. The imaginative designs and incorporation of natural elements make these play areas not only entertaining but also stimulating for young minds.

Water Features:

For those hot summer days, Brooklyn Bridge Park provides refreshing water features that are perfect for family fun. The Water Lab, located at Pier 6, offers a dynamic water play space with various jets, sprinklers, and fountains. Children can splash around, cool off, and engage in water play, creating a delightful and memorable experience for families visiting the park. It's important to note that the Water Lab typically operates seasonally, so visitors should check the park's schedule for availability.

Sports Facilities:

Families who enjoy sports will find Brooklyn Bridge Park to be a fantastic destination. With multiple sports fields, including soccer, basketball, and volleyball courts, there are ample opportunities for friendly matches and sports activities. These facilities cater to a range of age groups and skill levels, encouraging families to engage in physical activities together.

Picnic Areas and Food Options:

Creating a perfect family day out involves more than just play areas. Brooklyn Bridge Park provides numerous designated picnic areas equipped with tables and benches, allowing families to bring their own meals or purchase food from nearby vendors. The park also hosts a variety of food concessions, ensuring that families have convenient access to refreshments while enjoying the scenic surroundings.

Events and Programming:

Brooklyn Bridge Park regularly hosts family-friendly events and programming throughout the year. From outdoor movie nights to concerts and educational workshops, there's always something exciting happening in the park. Families can check the park's official website or event calendar to stay informed about upcoming activities suitable for all ages.

Conclusion:

Brooklyn Bridge Park stands out as a premier destination for families in New York City, offering a wealth of family-friendly amenities and play areas. From thoughtfully designed playgrounds to water features, sports facilities, and engaging events, the park provides an ideal setting for families to bond, play, and create lasting memories against the backdrop of the city's skyline and the iconic Brooklyn Bridge. Whether you're a local resident or a visitor, Brooklyn Bridge Park is a must-visit destination for families seeking a delightful and enriching experience.

[noorthehood]

Until You • 05

Miguel O'Hara/Reader

Ch. 01 Here

Ch. 02 Here

Ch. 03 Here

Ch. 04 Here

Faster updates on Ao3!

With a glimpse of a futuristic cityscape and an encounter with a Spiderman seemingly much different from the one you’re used to, you unknowingly find yourself thrust into a web of intrigue and danger as the very fabric of space and time is warping. Who will you trust?

........………………………….…………………......................

“They’re calling me what?”

Your words reverberate through the bustling cafeteria, drawing the attention of the Spider-Society members immersed in their daily routines. The chatter around you momentarily subsides as heads turn in your direction while Lyla’s virtual figure flickers with her every laugh, clearly taking great delight in the affronted look on your face.

“Come on! It’s not like they’re saying it to cuss you out.” She begins. “Try to look at it as…a pet name that fits your circumstances.”

You finish the last bite of your burger, discreetly glancing around to ensure no one is overhearing your conversation with the ever-teasing AI.

“Well, pet name or not, I don’t know how I feel about having hundreds of Spider-people refer to me as ‘Temp’.” You whisper. “What is this, an office drama?”

Seemingly unfazed by your skepticism, she takes on a robotic and lifeless tone, her movements mimicking those of a clunky mechanical robot.

"'Temp' is short for temporary, symbolizing your presence in our dimension as a temporary occurrence. It is a way for the Spider-Society members to acknowledge and categorize your unique situation in a comedic and friendly light. Please try not to take it personally." 

You roll your eyes and let out a resigned sigh, realizing that Lyla is determined to have her fun at your expense. Taking a sip from your drink, you decide to shift the conversation back to what you were discussing before she had let you know of the nickname issue.

“Alright, alright, we get it Tin Man. Now, let’s go back to what we were talking about before my drink coincidentally happens to find its way into your GPU.”

On cue with your threat, she quickly adjusts her projection to display a small holographic interface, complete with visual aids and data streams, preparing to resume her description of the inner workings of the 2099 metropolis of Nueva York.

Over the past few days, a peculiar bond had formed between you and Lyla; although she initially seemed wary of an outsider infiltrating the tightly-knit facility, you could tell the advanced AI had finally warmed up to your presence. Once you were granted permission to roam around the Spider-Society HQ, courtesy of Jessica Drew's intervention, Lyla became your designated companion and monitor—when her boss didn’t need her support elsewhere, that is. This idea proved particularly useful, as you would no longer have to go through that bulky Spiderman for your more personal daily needs. 

While her primary purpose was to ensure your safety and well-being, she went above and beyond her assigned duties; Lyla became your guide, your confidant, and even your source of entertainment. You just knew that your boring old smartphone would never be able to compete once you’d be back in your home dimension.

But beyond all of that, you knew that it was Lyla’s presence itself that had been keeping you from going insane between those walls. 

While there were a few friendly Spider-people who would engage in casual conversations, you couldn't shake off the feeling of being an outsider. After all, they were superhumans who had their responsibilities and duties to attend to, and you were just a temporary visitor in their realm of heroism. There was an invisible barrier that separated you, making it difficult to truly connect on a deeper level—or perhaps that from experience, despite their desire to befriend you, they were the ones that felt compelled to keep their distance so as not to bring you closer than you already were to their world of precarity. 

Could that explain why the Spiderman hadn’t come to check on you since the go-home machine incident?

You shake the thought off your mind.

“Are you still listening or am I wasting my RAM here?”

Lyla’s voice quickly brings you back to reality as you blink a few times, eyes returning on the holographic projection she had created of one of the city’s vertical car tunnels.

“Oh—Yeah, sorry, I mean—” You stammer, trying to come up with an excuse. “I was just…thinking about how much I would love to see the city with my own two eyes instead of through projections or from the windows, you know.”

That wasn’t a lie; you truly did find yourself captivated by the vision of this futuristic ‘Nueva York’—it's a far cry from the familiar streets and buildings of your respective New York. Everything Lyla had told you about the advanced transportation system, the breakthroughs in regenerative medicine, and the incredible architectural wonders that were out there just piqued your curiosity all the more—had it not been that you were being constantly monitored, you probably would have tried to sneak out and get a feel for it yourself.

“Yeah, well,” She says, adjusting her comically large heart-shaped glasses. “I wish I could show you firsthand, but the circumstances don’t exactly allow for it.”

“Yeah, I know. No hard feelings.” You let out a wistful sigh, acknowledging the limitations of your current situation. “Thanks for allowing me to get a glimpse of it through you, though.”

Lyla looks at you in silence for a few moments, as if she was trying to find the right words to make you feel better about your circumstances. The silence stretches, creating a tangible weight in the air before she finally begins to speak.

"It's…not all utopia, you know." She finally says. The cafeteria buzzes with activity around you, but her somber tone draws your focus entirely to her. "As advanced and dazzling as this place may seem, it’s not without its flaws.” 

The once playful companion now wears a more serious facade, and you can't help but feel a pang of concern.

“There is a stark divide between the privileged elite and the disenfranchised, those who have access to the advancements and benefits of this society…and those who are left behind."

She pauses, her holographic figure tilting slightly as if trying to convey the depth of the issue. The projections around her shift to display images of gleaming skyscrapers towering above shanty towns and overcrowded streets.

"The rapid progress and technological marvels have come at a price," Lyla continues. "Mega-corporations such as Alchemax wield tremendous power, their influence reaching into every aspect of society; they control resources, shape public opinion, and even dictate the very fabric of people's lives."

You find yourself drawn deeper into Lyla's words, the holographic projections becoming windows into a reality far more complex than you had imagined. Scenes of protests, clashes, and the shadows of corporate dominance flicker before your eyes, painting a picture of a society grappling with its own contradictions.

Lyla's gaze shifts from the projections to meet your eyes, her virtual body perched on the edge of your table. The room seems to quiet down around you—or maybe your brain was playing tricks on you to help you grasp the gravity of the moment.

"There's a lot of darkness beneath the glossy surface, a side of this place that I haven't shared with you until now. And, maybe…" She hesitates. "...Maybe that's one of the reasons why he is so determined to find a way to get you out of here quickly."

You raise your eyebrows at that statement.

It takes a moment to absorb her words; of course, you knew that no city came without its downsides. But in a world like this, a world that seemed so utopian, so clean and rid of imperfections—it was somehow disheartening to know that the greediness of human nature could persist even when it has the opportunity not to.

“I suppose that’s why even a place like this needs its Spiderman, huh.” You scoff lightly, then pause for a few seconds. “Say, Lyla…”

“Hm?” Her virtual gaze meets yours inquisitively as the projections behind her dissipate.

Your voice drops lower as you lean in closer to her, ensuring your conversation remains private.

“Does he...you know,” You hesitate slightly, unsure of how to word things. “Get notified of everything I ask you?”

Lyla raises an eyebrow.

"Not unless it compromises anyone's safety," she assures you, her voice carrying a hint of playful mischief. "But if you ask me to show you any weird stuff, I might just snitch for funsies."

"No—God, no, it's not like that," You hurriedly clarify as you shake your head. Lyla crosses her arms and looks at you skeptically, her virtual glasses perched on her nose.

"I mean, he does have full access to the record, of course," Lyla admits. "But that's hours and hours of conversation that he'd have to skim through every day. Trust me, he's got better things to do."

"I see," you reply, the tension in your shoulders easing.

Lyla continues to study you, her virtual gaze fixed on your face, as if she senses there's more to your question. With a subtle movement of her hand, she prompts you to elaborate.

You stay silent for a moment. There was something you had been meaning to address, a lingering curiosity that had been growing within you for the better part of your stay at the HQ.

“Could you…tell me more about Spiderman?”

She raises her eyebrows in surprise.

“Depends. What would you like to know?”

“I…I’m not sure.” You stammer. “The gist of it, I guess.”

“The gist of it, huh.” A mischievous smile tugs on her lips. “Well, there are limitations to my programming when it comes to the disclosure of sensitive information about anyone at HQ, as you probably have guessed already.”

You nod, acknowledging the obvious.

“Yeah, of course, sorry I ever asked—”

“But.”  Lyla interrupts you and quickly appears closer to your face, a finger raised in the air. “I can tell you something interesting I’ve noticed lately.”

The sassy AI sure knew how to pique your curiosity. You cross your arms in anticipation.

“I’m listening.”

Lyla smirks and looks around before taking a seat on your shoulder.

"Well, one thing you have to know about our Spiderman here is that he is stubborn as a mule," She starts with a tinge of simulated exasperation. "This whole vigilante thing, it's like a drug to him. Nothing else matters more than doing what he believes is right, even if it means going against the grain."

You slowly uncross your arms as the AI keeps on going.

“Ever since he…became the way he is,” She hesitates, searching for the right words, “He’s always been driven by this deep sense of responsibility—always shouldering the weight of the world on his back without ever counting on anyone else to help carry the load. Maybe he sees it as a sort of atonement for the things he’s done, I’m not sure.” Lyla's expression softened, her digital eyes conveying a sense of fondness. 

“He’s not like most Spider-People in this building, you know. He doesn’t get much recognition at all, or even…deal with the public. With or without the mask.”

She pauses as you process her words.

“But ever since you got here, or rather ever since he took you out of that machine,” Her eyes look up into yours. “I’ve noticed he’s gotten…How could I say—softer?”

Your eyes widen at her words, struggling to comprehend the implications. 

“What do you…” You chuckle. “Nah, I haven’t seen him since I set foot in the go-home machine, and our interactions have been brief at best—”

“You haven’t seen him since that day. He, on the other hand, has been watching over you for the past ten days. You knew that, didn’t you?” She chimes in. “Maybe he feels guilty for what he made you go through back there, maybe he sees a reflection of himself in you. Someone who’s been thrust against their will into a world they don't really understand.”

The image of that imposing, stoic masked man allowing himself to ‘soften’ in your presence is both bewildering and unbelievable to you. Lyla's eyes meet yours, a warm smile playing on her lips. 

"Sometimes, it's the most unexpected connections that have the most profound impact," She says softly. "Maybe he sees in you a glimmer of the humanity he thought he'd lost."

Before you could formulate a response, a notification appears on Lyla's communication interface, accompanied by a rhythmic beeping. She glances at the notification and mutters ‘gotta take that’ before she vanishes from your shoulder, leaving you alone with your swirling thoughts.

Leaning back in your chair, the weight of Lyla's words settles on your mind like a heavy cloak. The revelation that Spiderman had been watching over you didn't come as a surprise; it was part of the reason you had devised the whole psychological warfare plan while you were still confined in your quarters. But for Lyla to suggest that your mere presence had impacted him in some way…

You mull over the implications of her words, tracing the lines of the man’s solitary existence. How isolated must he be to find solace in the presence of a complete stranger? The idea that your arrival could have softened his hardened resolve tugs at your heartstrings, evoking a mix of empathy and compassion—you can't help but wonder what it must be like to carry the burden he bears. 

The man’s image flashes in your mind. You can almost see the weight of the world etched on his shoulders, the weariness in his gaze—though you’d never seen them, you still wondered what stories his eyes held. Would it be bad to wonder what type of man lies under the mask? What sort of scars, seen and unseen, you would find under his suit?

‘No.’ You stop your mind from wandering further. ‘That’s inappropriate.’

You take a deep breath, attempting to push aside those intrusive thoughts as a sense of internal conflict washes over you. 

“Speaking of the blue devil.” Lyla’s voice brings you back to reality once again, her figure instantly rematerializing in front of your eyes. “Looks like he’s heading back from a field mission after hearing the latest news going around HQ.”

“News?” You furrow your eyebrows inquisitively. “What news?”

Lyla smirks and crosses her arms as she savors the moment of anticipation before delivering the information.

“Seems like your little friend has finally woken up."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

“You might just be the least athletic person I have ever had the misfortune to meet in all my years of activity.” 

Leaning against the wall, you struggle to catch your breath, your lungs still heaving from the exertion of navigating the unconventional layout of the Spider-Society HQ. Lyla's condescending remark lingers in the air, stinging with a touch of truth—it was no secret that physical prowess was not your strong suit after working an office job for the past couple of years, especially in a place teeming with people who could soar through the air or scale walls with ease.

"Well, probably because I am the least athletic person you've met in your years of activity; you work with superhumans!" you retort, gasping for air between words. "And whose idea was it to build some of the floors upside down anyway? Again, there is no way this is up to building code!"

"Most people here usually just swing from place to place," she remarks casually, as if swinging from webs is a universally accepted mode of transportation. 

You slump down the wall, grateful for the support it provides, fanning yourself with your hands in an attempt to alleviate the heat radiating from your flushed face. 

As soon as Lyla had informed you of the other woman's awakening, your instinct to check up on her immediately kicked in. It felt like the natural thing to do, drawing from your experience as a volunteer member of the office emergency response team back home—a role that, admittedly, does look good on a resume. You and the other woman were stranded in this strange and futuristic world, and in each other's presence, you could potentially find a semblance of familiarity, a connection amidst the unknown.

Of course, your motivations were entirely altruistic, driven solely by the desire to ensure her well-being and offer support in this perplexing predicament. It had nothing to do with the fact that you were eager to see Spiderman after over a week of no contact. 

Absolutely nothing. 

Right?

You promptly try to shake off the thought. Maybe you were still overthinking what Lyla had told you about him earlier. But for now, your primary focus should lie exclusively on the well-being of your fellow castaway.

With a final heave, you push yourself off the wall facing the large gate of the infirmary, mustering the strength to stand upright. Taking a deep breath, you shoot a determined gaze at Lyla.

"Alright, C-3PO." You declare theatrically. “Let’s go check on my—.”

“What are you doing here, exactly?”

You jolt in surprise at the deep voice emanating from behind you. Quickly turning on your heels, you find yourself face to face with the towering man who had been the subject of most of your thoughts for the past hour or so, arms tightly crossed on his chest, looking at you through his intimidating yet somehow familiar mask. 

“Oh.” You manage to let out, your heart rate quickening. “I…I could ask you the same thing.”

“I work here.” He responds matter-of-factly, his tone carrying a hint of confusion. Lyla materializes next to him, her digital form bearing a mischievous smile.

You mentally berate yourself for the nonsensical remark. What were you even trying to say?

“I mean—” You stammer, attempting to regain your composure as you lean against the nearby wall. “Haven’t seen you around in a minute. Or since I got here, really.”

He sure knew how to hold eye contact.

"Some of us are busy working," he states, taking a step toward the entrance of the infirmary. "Just like others are busy vandalizing private property."

You scoff, trailing behind him as you try to keep up with his brisk pace.

“What you call vandalizing, I call peacefully protesting. And I’ve apologized already, haven’t I?”

“Yelling ‘sue me’ through the intercom isn’t exactly the definition of apologizing, is it?” He retorts, his gaze fixed straight ahead.

You follow him through a long white hall with large windows on one side as he checks some information on his complex-looking watch, aided by Lyla.

"Fine, maybe I haven't formally apologized," you concede, maintaining your quick stride while skillfully evading a few Spider-People approaching from the opposite direction. "But let's not forget that you haven't apologized to me either for confining me to a room for an entire week! Yet, you don't see me complaining, do you?"

“Seems to me like you are complaining right now.”

"And rightfully so!" you retort, your voice laced with frustration.

With a sigh, he abruptly halts, causing you to nearly collide into his back. You look up and find yourself facing a large glass wall, beyond which lies the woman you've come to see, lying in her pristine white infirmary bed. Her gaze is fixed on the view beyond the window to her left.

"Listen," the man begins, turning to face the same direction as you. "Right now, all I'm trying to do is find a way to send you home as soon as possible. So if this conversation can wait, I need to speak with your friend and see if she can provide any leads on where to start. Understood?"

You stare at him in silence for a few seconds.

“Wait, you… you mean you’re gonna go in there to talk to her? Right now?”

He turns his head towards you, confusion etched on his masked face.

“Is there a problem?”

Unable to contain your amusement, you burst into laughter, much to his dismay.

“You’ve got this strange habit of laughing after I say something completely normal, you know that? What the shock is so funny?”

“Oh, don’t worry about it. I just hope you’ve got a few extra doses of that tranquilizer on hand, you know—for when she turns around and loses her mind when she sees a ten-foot-tall masked man in a blue spandex suit at her bedside and thinks she’s getting dragged to purgatory.” Tilting your head, you give him a wry smile. “If your plan is to send her right back into a coma, go right ahead.”

Lyla flickers into existence next to you, her hands on her hips, chiming in with a nod of agreement.

“She’s got a point.” 

He stares at you for a moment, then at the glass wall facing him.

“What do you suggest, then?”

“That I be the one to go in there and talk to her.” A surge of determination fuels your words as you take a step closer to him, your eyes locking onto his hidden gaze. 

He looks back at you, holding eye contact against his better judgment. Has he seen your face from so close before? Of course he did, he’d carried you in his arms twice in the span of two days when you had first arrived. And whenever time allowed it, he would monitor your quarters to watch for any potential glitch or anomalous event—he had seen and heard plenty of you. 

Yet his gaze wanders, tracing the contours of your slightly flushed cheeks, the fluttering of your eyelashes, and the shape of your lips. These were the subtle details that surveillance cameras could never quite capture, and they held a captivating allure when observed up close. But amidst all these visual observations, one thing captivates him more than anything else.

Your scent.

It's not the fragrance of your perfume or the smell of your clothes. It's your natural scent, the essence that is uniquely yours. He had noticed it lingering around the headquarters, surfacing in his senses shortly after your arrival, and it inexplicably clung to him throughout the day—even after he retreated to the solace of his own home. The aroma was unfamiliar to him, yet strangely soothing.

The weight of his unspoken response lingers in the air, the silence stretching between you. However, the moment is interrupted by Lyla, who breaks the stillness with a snap of her virtual fingers and a prompt reminder of the task at hand.

“Earth to Spiderman.” Lyla chimes in, her voice bringing him back to the present. “So? What do you say, big guy?”

He takes a step back, his gaze shifting away from yours, as if attempting to regain his composure.

“Yeah, sure. I don’t see why not.” He finally responds, his voice slightly gruff as he clears his throat.

Lyla raises her eyebrows, expressing her surprise at his quick compliance. You shoot him a satisfied smile.

“I knew you had some common sense hidden under that scary mask of yours.”

You start walking towards the sliding door of the woman’s room, but are promptly stopped by a firm hand on your shoulder. 

“Wait.”

You turn your head to face him with an inquisitive frown, expecting a change of mind, but are rather met with what you recognize as an expression of concern.

“Listen, I…I trust you’ll do good in there. ” He pauses, his hand softly resting on your shoulder as he looks down at you. “But if anything feels off…I need you to let me know. Immediately.”

The concern in his voice resonates within you. It's evident that his words extend beyond the mere well-being of the woman in the room; there's a vulnerability in his voice that suggests he cares more than he's letting on. Remembering what Lyla had mentioned earlier about Spiderman's solitary existence and his reluctance to rely on others, you can't help but wonder if he sees in you someone he can trust, someone he can confide in—even if just for this moment.

You're tempted to lean into his touch, to let yourself be enveloped by the warmth and comfort it promises. But you swiftly pull back, reminding yourself of the boundaries and the temporary nature of your alliance. You know that indulging in these fleeting emotions could complicate matters and distract you from the task at hand.

You give him a small smile, hoping to ease the tension in the air. "Pinky promise," you say playfully, raising your pinky finger in a gesture of camaraderie.

A faint unseen smile tugs at the corner of his lips, hidden behind the mask, as he hooks his pinky finger around yours, sealing the unspoken agreement between you.

He nods in acknowledgement, but the concern in his eyes remains. It's almost as if he's reluctant to let you go, to entrust you with this task. But you reassure yourself that it's merely his sense of responsibility, his desire to ensure everyone's safety, that drives his concern.

"Better keep to your word." He steps back slightly as if to maintain a respectful distance.

Before either of you can say anything else, Lyla's voice breaks the spell, reminding you of your initial purpose.

"If you keep this going any longer she’s gonna go to sleep again.”

You nervously wipe your palms on your jumpsuit in anticipation and slowly make your way to the door. You shoot one last look at the Spiderman, stiffly standing in front of the entrance with arms crossed. He gives you one last nod before you make your way inside the room.

“I’m counting on you, Temp.”

....................................................................................................

A.N: Phew, longest chapter so far (I haven't slept in weeks). Felt like delving more into YN's relationship with Lyla as well as fleshing out Nueva York a bit—as I told a reader on Ao3, it seems a lot of people who've only seen ATSV think of Nueva York as a sort of solar-punk utopia of the future, while it's actually pretty messed up from up close.

Hope y'all like playing with fire cause the slow burn is burning!

As always, faster updates on Ao3!!!

[bomberqueen17]

WWII museum

So, New Orleans-ing proceeds apace. Tried to go to the Southern Food museum, the website said it was open, the door said it was closed. This was a rather crushing blow as I'd walked about as far as I could walk to get there, and then had to turn around and come back. Don't think I'll be able to try again.

My sciatic nerve has had it with me, and I'm able to get around during the days but it's just hurting so badly at night I sleep in five-minute increments, then have to wake and roll over, and if I'm lucky I can fall back asleep before it hurts too much for me to sleep through it, and if I'm unlucky I lie there until i can't stand it and get up and stretch and try a new position. So that's not great. Stretching stops it from hurting while I am actively stretching, but does not particularly help if i assume literally any other position. No, I cannot sleep in the stretching position. I've tried. I can't even sit in that position, so it's not a very useful method of relief.

Ibuprofen doesn't touch it and neither does Aleve. Those are the only options I have with me, so.

Anyway. I'm getting around fine but really not getting a lot of rest.

Last night we went to a show at Preservation Hall, and they charge literally double for your ticket if you want to sit on the hard wooden benches, and I weighed the odds and the bench was likely to give me sciatica anyway, so I stood and saved myself $25, but it was agony and I paid the price. So today we went to the National WWII Museum, and I asked at the admission desk if they had loaner wheelchairs, and they do.

I have learned that nobody cares why you're in the wheelchair. They have many, you are not snatching it away from someone who needs it more.

It is its own punishment, however. The pathways are marked at the stairs; if you go find the elevator, you then have to wander around trying to find where you're meant to go next. People don't get out of your way and you spend a lot of time staring at the asses of people who don't care that you're there and can't get through and can't see anything. One woman, we asked politely if we could get through, and she made no attempt to move, so we squeezed by, and clipped her foot with our wheel, and she got very angry with us. There was no one close to her, she easily could have shifted her foot, she could both see and hear us. We could not have gone any other route, she just didn't think we had a right to pass.

And some sections of the museum have artfully-designed floors that are rough, with chunks of fake-broken concrete. These are really punishing to try and roll over, and are wildly uncomfortable to bounce along over. Especially in a crowd of people. I understand the aesthetic choice but with the number of visitors with mobility impairments for whom that provides a tripping hazard, I super super wonder what the fuck they were thinking. I saw several elderly folks with rollators and I don't know how they got through those rooms. It was several of them.

One whole section, we could not get to unless we went back through the crowded exhibit to the halfway point to find the elevator again.

As far as the content.... I studied that era extensively in my youth, Dad was obsessed with military history and had a lot of books in the house, and I read several of them cover to cover and back and forwards. One in particular-- my sixth grade social studies teacher was obsessed with the Pacific war in specific, and during the year I was there, he was engaged in hand-painting a huge mural of the Pacific battles on a map on the classroom wall. I was allowed to help stencil on some of the letters. So I found that I knew most of the general conduct of that war, and the book I had obsessed over in specific was a compilation of primary sources, news articles, contemporary firsthand accounts, of many of the major actions of that war. I was astonished at how much I remembered. I also had read a very detailed account of D-Day, similarly, so I was able to rattle off an overview of the thing to Dude while we were staring at a line of people's asses who wouldn't let us through.

As we went through the Pacific wing, in the background there was this weird repeating bit of ambient music that I actually recognized as Brian Eno's An Ending (Ascent), and I was like fuck, I bet I know what that is, and I was horrifyingly correct: that's the room where there's a huge wall-sized enlargement of the devastation at ground zero of Nagasaki, a couple of little things along one wall explaining what happened, and nothing else, it's just this big huge space and the music.

I guess it's tasteful, I guess going into more detail wouldn't help, I guess that's not the place for it; leaving it a big bleak horror serves the purpose and tone. The museum was generally pretty good-- very, very American-centric, but acknowledging various issues of racism and misconduct and propaganda and such in sort of minimal but very present ways. There were repeated mentions of the segregated US armed forces, repeated discussions of what the Black soldiers still managed to achieve, and it especially hit because the group that was the most polite and considerate of my wheelchair was a school group of almost entirely Black high school kids from, clearly, a local-ish school, who were impeccably-behaved despite being kids and horsing around and such-- I timidly said "excuse me" to one and she leapt out of my way and tapped her friend's shoulder, who instantly stopped horsing around and said "oh excuse me!" and also got out of my way and told her friend and the children just all melted out of my path and reformed after me, unbothered, resuming their horseplay, poking at the interactive exhibits, paying surprisingly good attention and also roasting one another, as young teens do. And I thought, as I went on to read about Executive Order 8802, of these kids reading that placard, looking at that exhibit, thinking about what has changed and what, horribly, has not.

(Link is to the museum's website. There are a lot of resources there. There was meant to be a cool feature where you follow a specific veteran's story, but i was assigned Bob Hope and don't care about him so I didn't use that feature. Dude got Robert Capa, though, and I immediately was like "i know all about him" and from across the room was like "that photo on that wall is from your dude" and he was like "what" LOL. I know photographers ok.)

We lasted about five hours. We did not see as much of the museum as I would have on foot. But I also know even just the line to get in would have utterly destroyed me on foot. So we made it through to V-E day and then to V-J day and I sat in that room with the Brian Eno loop and was like You know what, I'm good. I'm good. I can't do any more.

So we went and got frozen margaritas at a fast food joint down the street and now I am recuperating. My sciatic nerve is not great, it won't let me nap either, but I will be able to walk and get dinner, which I wouldn't be if I'd done that museum on foot.

I highly recommend, even if you're mostly in good shape, if you have trouble making it through a museum and get footsore, just borrow a wheelchair, and then switch who's pushing halfway thru the museum. If it's that or cut the visit short.... We did not switch pushers, but Dude found a great deal of relief by leaning on the back of it, and I was able to carry the water bottles without much trouble.

Most museums don't have decoratively-uneven concrete floors.

I did realize, despite my obsessive reading on the topic as a kid, while I know the names of most of the German high command, i could not tell you the names of really any of the Japanese officers of similar rank. I recognized a few, from the placards, but generally I don't have the same level of knowledge there. On the one hand, I feel i should read more Japanese history of the war. On the other hand.... I think my days of being able to absorb that sort of thing might be over. Fourteen-year-old me would have loved this museum and read every placard, and would have been on foot to do it. Forty-whatever I am year old me was interested but horrified, even though I generally knew most of it already. But hearing about the estimated 100,000 Filipino civilians massacred in Manila during the battle for that city meant one thing when I was 14, and now means... well, rather a lot more, I have more context and I can really understand, now, what that means. It wasn't that i didn't understand as a kid. But I had no context.

Well, we'll see if I manage to scrape together enough brainpower to look into it any further. At any rate, the museum is worth a visit but is A Lot. Very American-Centric, but not as Patriotic as I was worrying. Not as obsessed with Big Machine Phallic Symbol as I was worried, either; it's not that there's none of that but it's largely in the context of discussing how US industrial capacity rapidly switched over to manufacturing war materiel. (Frank admissions in several cases that our stuff was inferior quality/design to both German and Japanese items, but was infinitely more numerous and in several cases it was simply that intelligent users worked out ways to use the items' defects to advantage, or to minimize their disadvantages anyway.)

And the website, linked to above, is pretty informative, with a wealth of images and citations. So there's that.

IDK, I have no like overarching message here, the bit of my sciatic nerve just inside my knee is fucking killing me and i can't think clearly about anything else for a bit, so. There's that, lol.

[thatssosussex]

Colombia Day 4- For their final engagement in Colombia, The Duke and Duchess of Sussex made an appearance at the Petronio Music Festival in Cali, a vibrant celebration renowned for its dedication to Afro-Colombian music and dance. Held at the Unidad Deportiva Alberto Galindo Sports Complex, this annual festival is the world’s largest tribute to Afro-Colombian heritage, attracting hundreds of thousands of visitors each year for a vibrant display of music, food, art, and fashion. ⁣(8/18/24)

⁣Meghan wore a dress by Andres Otalora, a pair of “Felix” chunky hoop earrings by Tres Almas jewelry, both are Colombian based designers, and a pair of Aquazzura sandals.⁣

⁣⁣⁣

[curiousb]

The Elton Family Album: Volume XV

Rather than continuing to throw money away by renting from a landlord, Marmaduke has invested his growing wealth in property, and commissioned a compact 'grand design' on an empty plot in Sanditon. (It was actually inspired by a real self-build house featured on one of my favourite TV programs, Grand Designs.)

Just testing out the pavement in front of his new investment, while he waits for a very important visitor.

He's not going to be living here alone...

...girlfriend Henrietta is moving in with him.

First stop, the bedroom. The house is sparsely furnished at present. Marmaduke favours a minimalist environment, although they will inject a bit more personality as time goes on.

After settling in, neither of them much fancy cooking a meal, so they head out to the new seafood restaurant just down the street - Seadrift.

Marmaduke and Henrietta are in tune in every other way, but he is rather lacking in the humour department, and doesn't always appreciate her quirky jokes.

Anyway, moving on swiftly from that awkward moment, let's get a table.

They get a prime spot, with a view over the river and the city lights beyond.

Checking out tonight's specials.

Marmaduke has something of his own to serve up.

Henrietta delightedly accepts his surprise proposal! And I love how her dad Frederick is lurking in the background - accidentally-on-purpose being at the same restaurant, at the same time - keeping an eye out for his daughter with this chap he doesn't really know.

Thankfully, the presence of Frederick doesn't spoil the romance of the evening. Although they never actually got to eat anything, as the waiter didn't seem to be able to serve them any food - maybe because of the candle on the table? (Anyone know how to fix it, so it doesn't block the table?)

The evening ends with a cuddle on the outdoor seating - even though some chilly rain has begun set in.

The next morning, Marmaduke is very excited about their engagement, and thinks they should hold a party, to celebrate their new home and new life together.

He might not always understand his fiancée's humour, but he adores her anyway.

A select group of friends and family is invited over that evening, for a dance party on the mezzanine.

Miles is a little disappointed that Henrietta is bringing their casual relationship to a close, although he understands. Long-term commitment isn't for him, but he accepts that he and Henrietta are now at different places in their lives.

Sophia is very happy for her sister, now that she's finally found her Mr Right.

And Henrietta has other reasons to feel celebratory too!