#✨being useless but on purpose this time✨

[fruityfroggy]

I’m serving ✨unproductive lump of lard✨ today 🎀

[salsedine]

All of this stupid mess and I can't start taking meds because I get stupidly anxious about the fact that they affect my actual stupid brain. Amazing times 👌🏻

[sophiethewitch1]

My special talent is that I'm really good at winning those rigged prize games. Yknow what, I'm winning all the prizes for Dick and Tim.🔫🔫🔫🐻✨🎉

The way I can instantly see this scene, it's so cute. Dick, being raised in the circus and having spent his fair amount of time at the carnival, is also really good at those rigged prize games. You'd catch each other the most cringe-worthy, eye-burning prizes, along with useless toys you can't even understand. This obviously makes Tim burn with jealousy and competitiveness, both towards you, because his favourite thing is playing with you, and towards Dick because he's obnoxiously an only child. If Tim can manage to actually win some of the prizes, you'll celebrate with him. But because he's a huge-minded gamer, even if he loses, he probably takes it as an opportunity to cry into your arms like a little baby. He gets way too close and whimpers into your ears very much on purpose, trying to one-up Dick's pornstar moans. It doesn't matter if his trick is obvious to everyone, he still totally gets to you. Asks all sweetly if you'll make up his losing tonight with him. He's a menace to society I stg

[ronniaugust]

How To Write Good Dialogue (Part 1)

I'm gonna start this by saying I'm not trying to sound like a know-it-all. I am just tired of posts like these being absolutely fucking useless. I am aware this is basically me screaming into a void and I’m more than okay with that.

This guide is meant for intermediate screenwriters, but beginners are also absolutely welcome. :)

(about me)

-♠︎-♠︎-♠︎-♠︎-

I've noticed a rise in film students who want to make films that have no dialogue. Probably after your professor showed you Doodlebug, right? Fuck that.

I'll make another post about writing a short film, but all you need to know is: Don't waste the audience’s time. Most of these no-dialogue shorts have very little substance and take way too long to tell the shortest possible story. Not a good idea.

Useless Dialogue

Plain and simple, don't write useless dialogue. Useless dialogue is dialogue that just doesn't fucking matter. Dialogue matters by having ✨subtext.✨

What is subtext? Subtext is the meaning behind the action. That's it.

If I tell you that I love you and I got big doe eyes while I say it, it means I love you. If I tell you I love you through a clenched jaw without looking at you, I don't necessarily love you right now.

Simple, right? Great.

Now think about the subtext behind every line. Does your character mean what they're saying? Are they doing it to get what they want? What is going through their mind as they say it? As long as you know your character, you’ll have these answers ready to go. If you don’t, you’ll figure it out eventually. Just keep writing.

When you write your character walking into a Starbucks and saying, "One venti iced coffee," does that do something? Why do I need to see someone's boring Starbucks order? Do I need to know that your character's boring? Why are you writing a boring character? [Of course, in the rare situation where this is some revealing clue to the massive crime investigation, then it makes sense.]

Useless dialogue is any dialogue that has no meaning or purpose in your script. Delete and move on. You don't need to write entire conversations or scenes that bore us, just write what we care about.

I took a class once where my professor called a version of this "trimming the fat." Get us into your scene and out of your scene in as little time as it takes to have it achieve its full purpose in the script.

[P.S. You don’t “inject” subtext into your lines. Idk who started that vernacular in subtext teachings but I hate it.]

Show vs. Tell

I remember a glorious fight I got into with a Redditor last year about show vs. tell… TL;DR: Dialogue is “show” if you write it with intention and subtext. If someone says that dialogue is inherently “tell,” they’re wrong and can go fuck themselves.

Dialogue that is “tell” is expositional dialogue. But, hot take: Exposition isn't just in dialogue. It’s also those annoying clichés that make you roll your eyes in the theater (which we just call clichés and not exposition). I’m sure every professor I’ve had will disagree with this and then get me into a long conversation about it, but let’s ignore that for right now.

Have you ever seen a movie where a character rubs an old, worn-out photo of a young girl while looking depressed? That's exposition. That character has a dead daughter. No shit.

Clichés are incredibly annoying. We all know that. Assume that any cliché you see - in this context - is exposition and try your best not to write it. (Tropes are different and sometimes necessary, so I’m not talking about that.)

Point blank: When you have subtext in your lines, they are "show,” not “tell.”

Before moving on, I'll bring up that while technically the dead daughter photo is subtextual, it is as close to the character saying “My daughter is dead,” as you can get. Don't treat the audience like we're fucking stupid.

The First 15

If you don’t know what the Inciting Incident is, please look up “3 Act Structure” before reading this.

The first 15 pages of your script is the part that comes before the Inciting Incident. This is the part you want to get right because, although people probably won’t leave the theater, they will absolutely find something else on the streaming service they’re using. The people making said movie will also just toss your script in the trash before it’s even produced, so it's best to get it right.

Dialogue in the first 15 generally follows the same rules, but carries a heftier additional rule. All dialogue in the first 15 minutes must, must, must tell us something about your character.

Remember when I talked about that boring Starbucks order? Why is your character boring? Don’t write that. Don’t write nice characters. Or pleasant characters. Or friendly characters. No one cares.

You want empathy. This does not mean “relatable.” It means “empathetic.” There is a difference.

I personally relate to Vi in Arcane, but I empathize with Theo in Children of Men. Both are excellent, but one personally resonates a bit more with me. You cannot write a character that deeply resonates with every single person, it is impossible.

With each line of dialogue, you must be saying something about your character that generates the empathy. Instead of telling you how to do this, I’ll direct you to a movie that will do better than an explanation: Casablanca.

Watch how Rick interacts with the world. What kind of man is Rick? Watch what he does, what he says, and how he treats people and himself. Watch that empty glass on the table. Watch his contradictions. Everything. Those things matter and it’s what makes you want to watch Rick for the entire duration of Casablanca.

“Realism”

This is maybe more directorial, but make your characters human enough, not too human.

Too human is when you’ve tried your best to capture all those little life-like speech patterns. You know, the ones that no one fucking cares about.

If your character coughs, they’re sick. If they clear they’re throat, they’re uncomfortable. If a bruise isn’t going away, they’re going to die. Simple.

Every moment on screen matters. Everything the audience sees is meant to lead them to a conclusion. Not the conclusion, just a conclusion.

The realism you want is in the choices your character makes, not how many times they say “Uh,” in a sentence.

Conclusion

Dialogue matters and should not be treated lightly or without care. Once you have this all engrained in your mind, dialogue should become effortless.

If you want an excellent way to think about this, Robert McKee's Story has an excellent chapter that helped clarify this all for me. Here's an excerpt and the context.

Warning, spoilers for Chinatown.

"If I were Gittes at this moment, what would I do?"

Letting your imagination roam, the answer comes:

"Rehearse. I always rehearse in my head before taking on life's big confrontations."

Now work deeper into Gittes's emotions and psyche:

Hands white-knuckled on the steering wheel, thoughts racing: "She killed him, then used me. She lied to me, came on to me. Man, I fell for her. My guts are in a knot, but I'll be cool. I'll stroll to the door, step in and accuse her. She lies. I send for the cops. She plays innocent, a few tears. But I stay ice cold, show her Mulwray's glasses, then lay out how she did it, step by step, as if I was there. She con-fesses. I turn her over to Escobar; I'm off the hook."

EXT. BUNGALOW-SANTA MONICA

Gittes' car speeds into the driveway.

You continue working from inside Gittes' pov, thinking:

"I'll be cool, I'll be cool ..." Suddenly, with the sight of her house, an image of Evelyn flashes in your imagination. A rush of anger. A gap cracks open between your cool resolve and your fury.

The Buick SCREECHES to a halt. Gittes jumps out.

"To hell with her!"

Gittes SLAMS the car door and bolts up the steps.

Story by Robert McKee, pg 156

The context of this page is McKee's way of explaining how to write characters. I found it very helpful.

-♠︎-♠︎-♠︎-♠︎-

Thanks for reading! I probably forgot something, so I made this a “part 1.”

I hope this helps someone since I’m really tired of finding short films on YouTube that are all fucking silent. The few who have done it well have been copied to death, so please write some dialogue. I promise you it’s so much better if you do.

Asks are open! :)

[tototalks]

Next side story, The Training of Erasmus! 🩷✨

I really enjoyed the world-building in this, and I more so than ever want nice things for Erasmus (and Kallias!)🥰

- Starting off, it’s immediately clear to see the difference between the nature of pets in Vere and the nature of slaves in Akielos where submission is given willingly and cultivated in a very different, almost scholarly way. I like that Erasmus clearly takes pride in what he does and enjoys it.

- I also really appreciate the subtlety and class of Pacat’s writing, especially given the nature of the setting. It makes the whole thing much more alive, and thus palatable to read, because this pleasure slave training could easily sound like a terrible Wattpad “how tf did this get published?’ book, but it doesn’t. It’s immersive and believable as part of the Akielon culture.

- Erasmus is really just so keen to please, and has so much pressure on his shoulders given his training. Now he has his transition into adulthood and still feels like he cannot truly reciprocate the love shown him, even by his friends. Conceal don’t feel never did anyone any good. Let it go, Erasmus.

- Every time Akielos’ marble floors are mentioned I think about how hot it must be to walk barefoot on that in the sun. All the slaves hopping and skipping in fear of burning their feet. Like walking next to a swimming pool in summer cursing your scorched toes. 😂

- The training grounds give very convent vibes, peaceful and concealed… and everyone is a virgin.💀

- If I were one of the trainees, I’d be terrified that one tiny scar from falling is enough to render the years of training useless. I fell over a flat fuckin surface this week. Makes me wonder if jealous slaves trip each other on purpose to get ahead.

- So much emphasis is put on physical appearance and the notion of perceived purity. I find this interesting actually, and it makes a real change to see these kinds of expectations put on a male character.

- Iphigen’s name was a cool choice! The mythological character of Iphigenia was killed as a “maiden” (Iphigenia in Aulis) - however, in some versions of the story (Cypria) -Artemis, the goddess of maidenhood, saves her before her father, Agamemnon, can kill her as a sacrifice… yeah ain’t foreshadowing a bitch lol

- I love that there is absolutely not a mean bone in Erasmus’ body. He isn’t jealous of Kallias, and supports him wholeheartedly in his endeavours. Erasmus’ kind nature has proven time and time again to be one of his greatest strengths. You don’t have to be a warrior to have power.

- I’m glad Erasmus got to experience real affection before truly becoming a slave, even if he was prevented from manifesting it fully. He experienced love that wasn’t transactional. ♥️

- Aden on the other hand is turning green and sweetheart, that is NOT a good look for you. Being jealous of Erasmus is like hating a cotton ball.

- Poor Erasmus just wants to read his cute love poems and is forced to memorise the Iliad, Odyssey, and Bibliotheca because Damen has the literary tastes of a five year old who likes swords. 😭😭

- I also love the detail that there’s an Akielon Homer and everyone is like “ffs how do you have THAT MUCH to say about one war??” Because same honestly. Thank you very much for the tedious lists of boats and lineages. Very helpful. I feel you, Erasmus 😂

- I like the mention of how Damen’s eyes are known to roam, and this serves only to highlight how down bad he is for Laurent later on. That boy fell HARD.

- “I wish you could have been my first.” 🥺🥺🥺 Torveld better fuckin take Erasmus to see the world like he wanted.

- Erasmus must have felt so betrayed by that kiss, but it 100% saved his life, and he definitely had to acknowledge that privately some time later on. Kallias was also his first kiss.🥲

- There’s a certain brutality in itself that comes with training the slaves for “innocence”, and placing purity on a very high pedestal. Your value being entirely attached to your virginity. So much so that one touch can render you ‘useless’ and ‘tainted’.

- I like that Erasmus doesn’t violently resent Kallias for the kiss even immediately after it happens- he’s confused and upset, but he must have known there was a reason.

- And here’s my million dollar question: WHAT HAPPENED TO KALLIAS?? 😨

[sesamestreep]

New Taylor Swift prompts! 16, Matt/Foggy

16. I’ve missed you all this time (from this prompt list) I don't know what this is, but it's technically set in the 60s, even though I did not make that explicitly clear anywhere in the text and it serves no purpose beyond just...vibes. I mostly just wanted to write silly new year’s fic, don’t worry about historical accuracy or world-building, everyone be cool! happy 2024, you silly and sultry geese! on ao3 here 🥂✨

Matt can still hear the noise of the party, barely dampened even when he's several rooms removed. He’d be able to hear it from the lobby of the building, truth be told, but here he can still make out conversations without having to focus that hard. He tries to direct his senses somewhere else—somewhere with less overlapping chatter and clinking glasses and shuffling feet over plush carpets—and breathe deep, so that maybe he can regain some equilibrium and hopefully go back to the party in a few minutes and act normal. It’s almost midnight, after all, and who goes to a New Year’s Eve party just to ditch out before midnight?

“Matthew Augustus Murdock,” a voice calls out from the far end of the paneled hallway.

“Not my middle name,” Matt says, smiling, “as you already know.”

“But wouldn’t it be better if it was?” Foggy asks, as he slides down to sit next to Matt. 

“Yes, I imagine I’d have lived a much easier and more successful life, if only my middle name was…what was it again?”

“Albert,” Foggy says, “or something. Who cares?”

“Good point,” Matt says, pressing his shoulder into Foggy’s happily. “How’d you find me?”

“I used the one and only superpower God graced me with: I’m like a homing pigeon for you specifically. I always know where to find you. It’s eerie, frankly, and damned useless, but—“

“Not to me,” Matt interjects, too readily. “I mean, for what it’s worth.”

Foggy nods, his overly long hair that he keeps meaning to get cut rasping over his shirt's stiff collar as he does. “That’s a good point.”

“I make those occasionally.”

“Occasionally,” Foggy repeats in a comically shrill, tiny voice, like he’s doing an impression of a cartoon mouse, for whatever reason. He’s a little drunk, clearly, which Matt could tell from the way he’s talking and the way he’s moving and the way he smells and, well, that’s probably enough evidence. 

“If I’m ever in trouble, I know who to call,” Matt says, which is maybe too honest, but Foggy doesn’t have to know that.

“You wouldn’t even have to call, Matt,” Foggy replies, solemnly grasping his shoulder. “If you’re ever in trouble, I’ll know and I’ll come running.”

“I would pay real money to see you actually run anywhere.”

“You’d have to, my man. I imagine it would take a massive breakthrough in science for you to see anything at all, and those things tend to cost a pretty penny,” Foggy says, grandly. “And also, on a much more serious note, go fuck yourself.”

Matt laughs and collapses against Foggy’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, I just know how much you hate running.”

“Which means you’ve entirely missed the inherent capital-R romanticism of me offering to do it for you! Classic Murdock. Absolute philistine behavior. I should expect it by now.”

“Your gallantry is wasted on me,” Matt agrees, still doing that thing of being too honest.

“I know,” Foggy sighs, theatrically, “and yet, here I am.”

“Why are you here, anyway?”

“Missed you, came looking. Same as ever.”

“Aw,” Matt says, leaning into his side even more. “You’re right, I really don’t deserve you.”

“I never said that. You said that,” Foggy says, poking him. “But anyway, I lied and the real answer to your question is that I got tired of girls coming up to me and asking where my handsome friend had got to.”

Matt knows two things with a decent degree of certainty: Foggy hadn’t been lying when he gave his first answer (Matt would have heard it in his heartbeat and likely noticed any other number of tells that Foggy has when he does lie, besides) and that no one would have had to ask him to go looking for Matt after he disappeared. His joke about homing pigeon-like tendencies is more truthful than either of them would like to acknowledge. When Matt goes missing—as he very frequently does at these types of things—Foggy always comes to find him. Matt’s been doing this since way before he met Foggy—having overly heightened senses does not make crowded social functions more manageable in general—but he can probably admit that he does it more now that he knows someone will come looking for him.

He also knows that girls like Foggy a lot more than Foggy thinks they do. He’s always talking about how girls seek him out to get in with Matt, but Matt doesn’t really believe that. There have been a few girls, here and there, certainly enough that Foggy’s right to be a little paranoid about it, who have turned their sights from Foggy to Matt, which on top of being unkind is just bad business sense. Anyone with a brain in their head would see that Foggy’s the better option of the two of them. And Matt’s got plenty of flaws, but he’d certainly never take up with anyone who hurt his best friend, so it doesn’t work out the way anyone hopes it will, anyway, when they do. Still, he's sure Foggy could have found a nice girl to keep him entertained until Matt got back to the party, if he put his mind to it, and that maybe he'd just been looking for an excuse to duck out himself when someone asked about Matt.

“This is where I got to,” Matt says, with a slightly pathetic shrug.

“Who says I meant you?” Foggy asks, absently. “I have other friends that are handsomer than you!”

“Not only do you not have a single handsomer friend in all the world,” Matt says, belatedly unsure if ‘handsomer’ is even a word, but otherwise too confident to turn back, “you don’t even have another friend at this party.”

“I’m exceedingly charming, Matthew,” Foggy over-enunciates. “Everyone at this party is my new best friend.”

Matt loops his arm through Foggy’s and leans his head back against the wall. “Sounds like I’ve got a lot of competition.”

“You’re not having fun?” Foggy asks, the change of topic so sudden and his tone so unexpectedly serious that Matt has a brief moment of confusion that he means with this joke they’ve got going. It takes a second to realize he means at the party in general.

“It’s fancy.”

“Too fancy, you mean…”

“You know I don’t go in for all this stuff,” Matt says, shrugging. 

“Like I do, you mean?” Foggy asks, lightly, even though Matt can feel him warming with embarrassment. 

“Like I used to,” Matt clarifies, and trusts his meaning to be clear.

“Right,��� Foggy says, and the tone in his voice is the one he uses exclusively when he refers to Matt’s ex-girlfriend from junior year who almost caused him to drop out. “Fair enough, I suppose.”

“You can head back. Really, I don’t mind. I just need a few more minutes.”

“No, you’re right. It’s…a bit stuffy, isn’t it?” Foggy muses. “I mean, I didn’t even know people still had apartments like this, outside of, well, the Rockefellers.” 

The apartment belongs to the parents of one of their friends from law school and the only reason they have free rein over the place is because the parents are vacationing in Aspen with friends. Even without being able to see it, Matt can tell it’s a swanky place. The rug he’s currently sitting on is so plush that he can basically sink his entire hand into it. Every table he passed on his way to this hiding place smelled so strongly of Pine-Sol that there has to be a maid on staff, if not a team of them. He’s fairly certain this random hallway he discovered is actually a back passage to the kitchens, so the servants don’t have to be seen coming and going. He's not sure if he asked their host about it that they'd even know it existed. And Matt’s shoes, as well as most of his clothes, are secondhand.

“You were having fun until I made you feel bad,” Matt says, tucking his chin onto Foggy’s shoulder and trying to look contrite.

“No, I mean—I like having you around, Matt. You keep me honest,” Foggy laughs. “Two and a half years of law school, four years at an Ivy before that, I think I’ve just made peace with having to go to parties in uncomfortable clothes and to make conversation with people I don’t really like. I don’t think I’d call it fun, but it’s a social life of some kind, I suppose.”

“We should have gone to Josie’s,” Matt says, holding onto him too tightly, even with the excuse of a few drinks.

Foggy snorts, thinking of the beloved dive bar they sneak off to in Hell’s Kitchen whenever they can, whenever they’re home. It’s only a matter of blocks to get there, but sometimes, at school, it feels farther away than all that.

“I don’t dare imagine the caliber of our prospects for a kiss at midnight there,” Foggy says, with an exaggerated shudder.

“Can’t be any worse than our prospects here,” Matt replies. 

Foggy whistles, low, under his breath. “You’re going to be disappointing a lot of nice girls with that kind of talk, Murdock!”

“Better to disappoint them now than later,” Matt says, fully burying his face in Foggy’s shoulder now. He gets like this when he drinks. Foggy's used to it.

“Oh, that’s right. You don’t do the whole ‘going steady’ thing anymore,” Foggy says, leaning in conspiratorially. “You’re too damaged and that means you’re never going to get married, so you’d rather not lead anyone on.”

“You say that like it’s not true,” Matt whispers back.

“It isn’t true, you moron!” Foggy laughs. “One day, some beautiful girl is going to turn your head so quick, you’ll have neck problems for the rest of your life!”

“Sounds uncomfortable,” Matt says.

“And I’ll be there,” Foggy continues, like Matt didn’t even speak, “laughing.”

“Well, as long as you’ll be there, Foggy.”

“Did I mention you’re a moron?”

“Yes. A few times now, in fact.”

“Then, I’ve done my duty.”

“And what about you?” Matt asks. “When’s somebody going to turn your head?”

“Somebody turns my head every goddamn day, it feels like,” Foggy grumbles. “The problem isn’t my head. It’s everybody else’s.”

“There’s plenty of girls who’d be more than happy to trap you in matrimony.”

“Hmm, well, I’m sure that’s true enough,” Foggy replies, thoughtfully. “I guess it’s more about finding someone you wouldn’t mind being trapped with.”

“And you haven’t found her yet, I take it?”

“No,” Foggy says, sadly. The girl he dated for most of their sophomore year—the one everyone had been certain Foggy was going to end up marrying—had just gotten engaged last month. Foggy still wasn’t entirely over it, Matt was pretty sure.

“And you’re certain she’s not here?” Matt asks, encouragingly.

“Unlikely,” Foggy says. “None of the girls here would be caught dead with me in the daylight. One of them might be unscrupulous enough to let me kiss her at midnight, though.”

“So, go back,” Matt replies. “Find the girl in that room with the lowest standards and lay one on her!”

“I will if you will.”

“I don’t know this for sure, but I do have serious doubts that any girl in the room will let the both of us kiss her at midnight.”

“I meant, you should—you know what I meant!” Foggy exclaims, embarrassed again. 

“I was trying to be funny!”

“‘Trying’ being the operative word there…”

Matt sighs. “What’s the point of kissing someone at midnight when there’s almost no chance of seeing them ever again after tonight?”

“You’ve just described the point yourself! It’s just for fun, to start the year off right! There’s no pressure!” Foggy says, disbelieving. "What’s gotten into you? I thought zero expectations romance was your specialty!”

“Maybe I’m just not a New Year's kind of guy.”

Foggy hums thoughtfully. “Can I tell you my theory?”

“Your theory? About what?”

“About you, and New Year's, and all of that.”

“Oh. Sure. Go ahead.”

“I think you’re afraid,” Foggy says.

“Afraid?” Matt asks. “Of…New Year’s Eve?”

“You don’t want to participate in these silly little rituals, like kissing someone at midnight, because you’re secretly terrified that something good is going to happen to you, and then you won’t know what to do with yourself.”

“Really, Foggy. Be serious!”

“I am serious,” Foggy replies, casually. “You’re scared of being hit over the head with it again.”

“Hit over the head with what?”

“Love,” Foggy says, simply. “You felt it once and it nearly derailed your whole life, so now you avoid any situation where you might accidentally meet someone interesting or have more feelings than you’ve carefully rationed out for yourself for that particular day.”

Matt swallows, feeling utterly exposed. It’s not something he would have been able to say for himself an hour ago, but the words feel true to him coming from someone else. He doesn’t like anybody knowing him well enough to know all of that, though, and if it wouldn’t be so utterly obvious, he’d pull away from Foggy right now just to be safe. Like that would even help, he thinks reluctantly.

“You missed your calling not going into psychiatry, Foggy,” he says, stiffly, once he’s gathered his wits enough to form sentences.

Foggy’s hand, warm and a little damp, closes over Matt’s where it’s still resting on his arm. Matt wants nothing more than to flinch away from it, but he controls the urge in the interest of saving face.

“Don’t be mad at me,” Foggy says, quietly, like there’s a chance they might be overheard somehow and he wants Matt to be the only one who hears this. “I’m just trying to tell you that, in avoiding fun and frivolous things, you are not sparing yourself from being hit over the head. If you’re meant to get hit over the head, it’ll happen whenever and wherever Cupid so chooses. It’ll happen at the deli or the bank or while you’re waiting for the bus. Which means that the only thing you’re ultimately sparing yourself from is fun and frivolity, and that’s a stupid way to live your life. That’s all.”

“I think you just called me a moron again,” Matt says, weakly. He doesn’t know what else to say. The rest of it is...too much to consider.

“I called you stupid, actually, but I see your point.”

In the distance, Matt hears the noise of a crowd of people all simultaneously trying to shush each other, with limited success. He imagines even Foggy can hear it too a moment later when they all begin counting aloud.

“Last chance…” Matt says, tipping his head backwards in the direction of the room where everyone’s gathered.

“It doesn’t matter,” Foggy says, apropos of nothing, as far as Matt can tell. He’s about to ask what he means when Foggy continues, anyway. “I have someone who meets your criteria.”

“My criteria?”

“Yeah. You’ll only accept a kiss from someone you’ll see again after tonight, right?”

“Uh, I don’t think I said ‘only’, I just meant—”

“Too bad,” Foggy says, as the countdown reaches its conclusion. “Happy New Year.”

Matt’s halfway through formulating a question or an objection of some kind, which is the only reason he turns in Foggy’s direction at that moment. It’s clear from the noise of surprise Foggy makes that he absolutely had no intention of kissing Matt right on the mouth and was probably, in fact, aiming for his cheek, trying to be funny and charming after Matt was such a spoilsport about the whole kissing at midnight thing. If Matt hadn’t moved, there’s no doubt in his mind that that’s what Foggy would have done and then it would have been over and they’d already be laughing about it and moving on. But Matt did move and, even awkwardly off center, Foggy is kissing him on the mouth right now and they’re both just frozen like that, shocked and useless.

Matt doesn’t give himself much credit for genius. He’s reasonably smart, and can be even smarter if he applies himself to a subject and really studies up on it, but there’s plenty of people in any given room smarter than he is, most of the time. He has his moments, though, and this is one of them. He sees very clearly the two paths available to them. Down one, this moment stretches awkwardly and they allow it to become a source of discomfort and then outright pain that they'll avoid talking about for years, or maybe possibly forever. Regardless, it has the power to ruin their friendship and Matt simply can't abide that. Down the other, they don’t flinch from it and they don’t make it any stranger than it has to be and it becomes one weird but not fully objectionable moment in their long and storied relationship. They’re not going to trot it out as an anecdote at parties, sure, but they’re not going to become crazy about denying it happened either. If Matt can steer them in the direction of the latter, he thinks maybe it will all be okay, but it’s going to require him not to make matters worse. For whatever reason, the only way he can think to not do that is by kissing Foggy back.

It’s immediately apparent that, momentary genius or no, while it does not technically make things worse, it also does not make them better. Then again, Foggy makes a sort of interested noise as he feels Matt return the kiss, which Matt is infinitely better off for knowing about and having heard and being able to think about some other time when he’s alone preferably. 

They don’t take it any farther than just that. They’re not necking in some random person’s hallway or doing anything truly objectionable. They just stay there, mouths pressed together so that Matt can smell (and sort of taste) the champagne Foggy’s had and the last cigarette he smoked and a hint of that sugary gum he always chews, even though he hasn’t had a piece since before they came to the party. It mostly feels, more than anything else, like they’re breathing together and it’s not sexy the way wild, passionate groping in the dark can be, but it’s intimate in its own unique way. Matt, against his own better judgment, puts a hand on Foggy’s cheek, and he doesn't really know why beyond just really wanting to and that seems to be reason enough.

Foggy doesn’t try to slip his tongue into Matt’s mouth—despite the alarming reality that the moment Matt realizes that’s not what he’s doing, he also realizes he’d let him—or try to escalate matters one bit. His hand is still grasping Matt’s collar from when he first pulled him in, but his other one doesn’t roam. His lips, still pressed to Matt’s, only move to exert a little more pressure and to alter the angle at which they meet slightly. He takes precisely zero liberties and makes no effort to get fresh with him at all. It’s very gentlemanly, and Matt doesn’t know what to do with himself because it doesn’t feel awkward or fumbling at all. It feels like restraint, and once he knows that, everything is different.

The tune of ‘Auld Lang Syne’ reaches him from the other room, but it’s drowned out almost entirely by the sound of Foggy’s heartbeat in Matt’s ears. Foggy must hear it too, though, because he breaks their kiss with the worst sort of gentleness, pulling back only enough for them both to have space to breathe but not far enough that Matt can’t feel that breath on his face.

Matt traces his thumb over the curve of Foggy’s cheek before dropping his hand back down into his own lap and licks his lips as he slowly turns away. 

“Happy New Year,” he says, aiming for calm and unaffected and likely missing it by a lot.

“You too,” Foggy says, even though he already said it first. His heart is still beating too fast and too close and too loud for Matt to read his tone, which is too bad, because he’d really like to know how Foggy feels right now and if he feels anything like Matt does.

Because Matt feels like he’s been hit over the head.

✨

[halfbakedspuds]

Thanks to @honeybewrites for the tag

OC name origins tag

Rules: I want to know how you came up with your original character’s names and personalities. Are they based on people in your real life? Are they straight from your brain? Are they a mix of several people?

I'll do this for the Tempest Prince characters

Jason Haliday:

Jason's name- like his brother's- is steeped in Greek history and mythos, with Jason being one of the classical heroes of their mythology. Jason Haliday (called something different in that draft) compared himself to mythology Jason with all this supposedly important but seemingly useless stuff he kept having to go after, "Like chasing a goddamn fleece for whatever reason" and purposefully ignorimh the context of the original story. The scene isn't in the current draft, but the comparison led me to change his name to Jason.

His surname, 'Haliday', was originally 'Galloway', but somewhere I learnt that Halliday comes from the old English hæligdag, which is excellent foreshadowing for the book.

Alex Haliday:

Alex was always going to be this character's name, however I changed its long form from Alexandra to Alexander somewhere down the line (God knows why, 'cause I certainly don't remember).

The reason was always because of his involvement with the Allyrian Inquisition as one of their brightest strategic minds and best warriors, making his name a nod towards Alexander of Macedonia.

Michelle Haliday:

Michelle as a character was heavily inspired by my dad- whose name was Michael- and giving her a name similar to his is a sort of tribute.

Lifvinja Ravenscar:

Okay, I know of maybe two people who follow me that might know what I'm on about with this, but I'll try my best to explain.

Growing up, I had the box set of this one old-ass Afrikaans kids show called 'Liewe Heksie' (it's hard to translate without sounding strange, but somewhere along the lines of 'little beloved witch') which was about an... admittedly pathetic but endearing excuse of a witch named Livinia, and followed all the stuff she got up to.

Some part of me thought "Hey, wouldn't it be funny to take this all-powerful, immortal mage who used to be a Norse Viking like a thousand years ago and name her after this one character from a kids show?"

And thus, Livinia got swapped out for its Norse equivalent- Lifvinja- and Archmagos Lifvinja Ravenscar was named.

The surname 'Ravenscar' comes from how marriage works in the Hunter cities, where everyone in the relationship unanimously agrees on two words that they feel allude to something important to them, and those two are put together to create their new surname that's unique to them. In Lifvinja's case, she called her wife 'Hrafn' (Raven) as a joke when they first met and it just stuck, and the pair both had matching burn scars on their forearms from something important to their story that I can't disclose cause ✨spoilers✨.

Helga Ravenscar:

I'll be honest with you, she literally got her name from a newspaper comic called Hagar the Horrible.

We all struggle to figure out character names sometimes, and she was one of those characters.

Isaac Blackwell:

Isaac got his name cause I was playing Dead Space around the time I first created his character.

'Blackwell' is based on 'Blackthorn' from the Shadowhunter books, but it does serve a purpose of sorts to the story. However, ✨spoilers✨

Aten:

Aten is one of several Great Ones that appear in the story (A great one being an extra dimensional entity that is to a god as we are to bacteria) and he got his name from the full name for the Egyptian sun god, Aten-Ra.

I think I was reading Kane Chronicles when I came up with that one, not sure.

The story in universe is that he's a lot more compassionate toward humans than the rest of the 'Pantheon', and came down to the Egyptian old kingdom to help them through a famine. Them not really understanding wtf they were seeing culminated in them naming him after their sun god, and thus he now carries the name 'Aten' with a sort of pride.

Sanmaht:

Imma be perfectly honest here, this one was a keyboard smash with vowels added for pronouncability.

Leyendeach:

I got this from the game Pathfinder: Kingmaker, where the audio file for some early-game cantrips sounded to me like they ended in something that eventually, through many iterations, got turned into 'Leyendeach'

Ralye:

A corruption of R'lyeh, the name of the city where Cthulhu supposedly is in HP Lovecraft's stories; from the phrase "Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl ftagn" (In his house at R'lyeh, dead Cthulhu lays dreaming).

No pressure tag for @orion-lacroix, @oh-no-another-idea, @illarian-rambling, @pb-dot and anyone else who wants in

[guiraguira]

Without hugs!✨

Samatoki X Gn Reader!

Warnings: None! You like to hug him in the back but today you avoid doing it to see his reaction

° He is talking to another yakuza member when he listens to your steps behind him. You have the habit of hugging him in the back while he is busy, just not to interrupt him and he of lifting both arms slightly unconsciously to facilitate the aim.

° So when he dodged him, he lost the thread of the conversation and turned to look for you, but you were doing something else. Believing that he was wrong, he tries to continue paying attention to the subject in front of him but it is already useless, his mind is thinking of you.

° Later that same day you spend about him again and this time he is sure of your intention, his elbows get up for you, but you just want him to move to be able to grab something, with his position of "Mommy hen " It is done on a confused side. He says nothing and thanking him to move you go to another room.

° You are laughing internally, you know that he is already trying to decipher what happens, but he will not say it out loud and much less will say that he wants him to hug him in public as you always do. Trying to stay as it would be as possible serius .

° dissimulately follows you and observes from the door frame, it is beginning to get impatient, but he can't think of any good reason for you hug him it without asking for it. So the only thing he does for the moment is to put in front of you, turning your back and interposing in your way on purpose, you had to understand that way?

° their attempts were very funny, touching the pathetic but acting natural, you almost let a couple of laughs when he stopped in front of you in the hall, doing absolutely nothing just being a human wall, but you managed to go through a tiny opening that he let. You wanted to verify how insistent it could be.

° I really can't stand much more, there was a time when I was sure that you would finally hug him, your hands touched his back and he was already ready to feel the heat of your body, but you just gave him a couple of affectionate pats and that did not It was what he was looking for. "You're doing it on purpose!" He says turning around and clicking his tongue.

° "Noo ~~" you loose bowing your head on your shoulder, but you had already wrong, he has that smile of "I knew!" Adorning his face. "Ehhh ?? How do you know what I'm talking about?" Take a step to you and you go back trying to earn more space keeping visual contact . "I don't know what are you talking about?" You twist your head on the side but you can't hold your smile anymore. Samatoki is happy to have discovered your game before thinking that something more serious was happening and he also spreads for your laugh.

° "Ah ~~ you don't know?" He imitate you tilting his head, he continues to advance you and your continuous going back until you collide with a wall, taking advantage of your carelessness catches you with both hands touching the wall, closing your escape. Far from feeling intimidated by him, you laughter breaking the visual contact they had maintained.

° "Let's go out of the middle, great fool" pinch one of his cheeks, moving his head side by with your grip. "Ouch! Do you think I'll be so easy?" Holding his wounded cheek, he puts his back squeezing against you. "Hey !!! You move your butt from here" it is really exerting pressure in you so that you hug it without asking for it, but it is very childish. He has you trapped between his back and the wall.

° "As you say!" He says moving his back side by side, highlighting what he wants. You are about to hit his stomach but he stops your hand and squeezes it in his abdomen, yielding you hug him with two hands very strongly. "Ehh? Haven't you asked me to go?" In response you squeeze it stronger, pressing your head on his back. You know he is happy to have won but he not will let you go so easy. You owe at least about four hugs and he hopes you compensate.

° This childhood behavior of Samatoki only comes to light when you provoke it, although it is someone difficult to treat, it rarely gets angry when you provoke it like this, he loves acting like a fool in front of you, because he knows that you will always be there to follow the game of the same form.

[touchoflaughter]

Vikings Headcanons

So this is my first attempt in the Tk-Headcanon game and probably no-one will care about it anyways but I had to live out my obsession about the Lothbroks once again! (Because they're everything!!) I'll get started with Ivar and Björn on this one. Hehe have fun!

The ✨ Ragnarssons ✨ everyone!

First off my all time favourite:

Ivar Lothbrok / The Boneless

being the youngest would make him the most popular victim already but the reason he constantly gets tormented by his brothers is more due to his sarcasm, lack of respect and ruthlessness that's in stark contrast with being super ticklish

Ivar would never identify as a Lee, yet he get's tickled the most

He's a solid 12 on a tickle scale from 1 to 10. Probably since he has no sense left in his lower body, his upper body's sensitivity got doubled?

His worst spots are hard to determine since his whole torso is one big weak spot. It depends on the day which area is most sensitive.

A fun fact is, that even his tree trunk shaped arms are extremely sensitive- I'll leave it to your imagination what happens when you get to his pits...

The sadistic viking leader hates when one of his brothers takes advantage of his ticklishness. He doesn't want to be taken down by something as childish as tickling.

Also public tickles are his worst nightmare. He chases the image of a fierce and feared Leader- what's quite the contrary to the ticklish mess he get's as soon someone strokes along his side.

No matter how bad you get him- due to his stubbornness he would NEVER cave in.

As a Ler he's better not underestimated. Even though his legs are a disadvantage, once he managed to get his hands on his victim, there's no escape. Ivar's incredible arm and torso strength easily makes up for his useless legs.

He'd definitely be a sadistic Ler (if he'd be interested in something as childish and embarrassing as tickling). Mercy does not pertain to his vocabulary so you better hold him down really good, cause it's over once he get's up...

Ivar is the most cunning Ragnarsson with not only glorious war-plans but also the most effective tickling strategies. He loves to make fun of his victim what often is even more horrific than the actual tickling. Again- you'll pay an awful price for messing with him.

Björn Lothbrok / Ironside

Björn being called Ironside is no coincidence. The oldest of the Ragnarssons might not be the greatest thinker evil tongues (such as Ivars) would say -but- he's without a doubt the strongest and most skilled fighter. This makes him the Ler most of the time. No brother is able to keep up with him physically. That's why they sometimes decide to team up against him.

He's a kind-hearted Viking who'd never hurt a loved one on purpose. That's why he's using tickling quite a lot to assert dominance towards his little brothers but also for playful bonding.

As the big brother, Björn often sees himself in a leading position what makes him clash with his stubborn brother Ivar quite often. Good thing he can easily put the youngest in place with just one finger.

Unexpectedly his bear paw-shaped hands are pretty versatile tickle tools. Also there's a lot of strength in them so he can easily pin and tickle his victim for a long time without getting tired. Afraid yet? Good.

All in all, Björn is a merciless but playful Ler who laughs along with the Lee. He loves to tease but always looks after the wellbeing of his victim- except we're talking about Ivar. In this case he shows no mercy at all and his sympathetic giggling turns into a wolfish grin and gleeful laughter.

In the rare case he get's overpowered, he makes a pretty happy Lee. Björn doesn't feel embarrassed being tickled as long as it stays within the family.

He's a little ticklish everywhere but only his knees, thighs and armpits bring him to his knees.

The oldest is pretty tough when it comes to begging for mercy. Probably it's also because he secretly enjoys having a good laugh with his siblings.

One thing he really tries to avoid is being wrecked by his brother Ivar. Not only his tickling is working best on Björn, also his teasing affects him way too much. Ivar rarely tickles for bonding but mostly to see his victim suffer and pure self-entertainment. Naturally that's something Björn can't let pass.

[limeade-l3sbian]

i'm thinking about the term "simp" and the divide in what it actually means vs what women who are familiar/comfortable with the term believe it means. it's very in line with the whole "there are very few, if any, insults that directly target men for being males, despite there being seemingly infinite derogatory words that target women specifically for being women."

anyway: to a woman who is comfortable with the term, they may mistake the fact that there is an insult deriding men for lying and performing kindness for a chance at romantic or sexual access to women (or even just as a way of seeking unpaid labor from her) as an insult deriding him for his manipulative and misogynistic approach to women and girls. however, the insult's actual purpose is to deride men for "stooping to the low of being kind to women."

make no mistake, the men who get called "simps" are (almost always) manipulative misogynists, but that's not why men (who were the ones to popularize the term) use it. they use it because they see kindness and compassion towards women as completely useless beyond manipulating them, and their criticism isn't about the seediness of the tactic, but how "weak" they perceive it to be. they think that being kind to women is "groveling at the feet of lesser creatures." that "real men wouldn't need to rely on such cheap, degrading tactics."

i feel like this dichotomy between the female perception of the term vs the original male use of it could be used to highlight the way that women fail to notice misogyny because of the covert ways it manifests combining with their instinct to project their capacity for empathy with the opposite sex onto men, when men simply don't live up to that very low expectation.

Your word flow is insane, anon. That was very aesthetically pleasing to read. Big ol' brain. ✨ 🧠 ✨

But you're not wrong (and I'm going to echo a few of your points again) and I notice in it the few times I scrimp through TikTok just trying to get a laugh in rather than be bombarded with nonsense. A man will (argue the genuineness of it, as you should) be upset that his girlfriend cheated/left/moved on/blah blah blah and will show this through crying. A man will do some grand gesture for his partner that cost him out the ass. A man will just be cuddled with his partner and tell her how great she is. Again, argue the genuineness of these acts and I won't blame you, but for argument's sake, let's say all of these examples were genuine.

The comments will be flooded with "simp" "bro is down bad 💀" "this is embarrassing bro". etc.. Because there has been this reestablished precedent that women are "no longer meant to be catered to." "They've had it good long enough." "It's time to take back control and show them who's really in charge."

OBVIOUSLY, that whole thought process is bullshit so I won't elaborate on base points of the entirety of feminism, itself.

And it comes back to that men's mental health bullshit. Women's mental health is, within the confines of women ourselves, taken seriously. We protested for ourselves and have ourselves options on how to take care of ourselves. That wasn't done at the detriment of men's mental health. They could easily follow suit. But instead, as ever, they've decided things like that should be left to women. They don't want you to help them change, though. They want you to empathetically explain away why they act the way they act while they continue to do it, but now they can fall back on, "Well my dad was mean to me as a teenager so that's why I hit my wife. I'm the real victim."

So these men who (arguably) break the mold and decide to just leave into their feelings are seen as being weak. You should be manipulating, not showing her "your cards."

You're a "simp."

[viitlumi]

What exactly are Vito's duties? Asked no one, but have them anyway! ✨

First I'd like to mention that the ethnicity of my OCs is both a mixture of Norse/Celtic and Slavic influence. They live on a very isolated small continent and prefer their connection to nature, having their own gods and goddesses and live off the rich mineral resources, such as iron or silver.

They thrive on exporting their resources and their nation is renowned for being very generous and trusted merchants. It's important so other nations won't think of them as old fashioned and useless because they fall behind in terms of infrastructure and modernity for their wish to stay in contact with nature and religion.

For Vito, whose goal is to become his clan's chief, is the eldest of his four siblings, it's the most important thing to keep his land rich and protected.

The continent of Isvann has not waged intense wars for a very long time and Vito has no wish to rekindle these conflicts. When he was old enough, he became a member of the political and military coalition. His responsibilities consist of liaising with allied nations, providing traders with resources and, of course, engaging in battle on behalf of allies when the need arises.

Vito has never been fond of non-face-to-face negotiations. He began to depart Isvann more and more frequently in order to travel. However, these trips had profound political purposes, as he voluntarily visited the major allied forces to strengthen the confederation, or to attract more alliances so that Isvann would remain a territory of impartiality and completely immune to hostile aggression, or so that the allied nations would wage battle for Isvann in its place.

Vito has studied extensively on these journeys, acquired new martial arts and knowledge of modern armaments, and is fluent in several languages in order to foster the greatest appreciation and interest in the relationship between all countries.

[magnomia]

metal magic system save me...

i should be focusing on my college report due in like three days, but i'm hyperfocused about applying our chemistry lessons to my story. metal based magic, different metals like aluminum or gold or tin affect the nature of one's magic. you cry "mistborn!" and i hear you, but this is a little different than allomancy.

instead of ingesting or consuming metals, they're buried inside one's body, embedded into their heart or organs, acting as a conduit that enable them to harness the energy around them. it's what allows them to cast spells and gives them magic. the most common metals are gold, copper, silver, and aluminum, though the kind of metal does not dictate the magic's level of strength like some sort of hierarchy, instead it describes the nature of it.

for example is gold -- since as a metal it is soft and the most malleable, that means if your metal is gold then it is not very effective for combat, though the area of effect can be increadibly wide and thinned down, the most powerful being able to affect an entire kilometre with their magic. because of its softness and its ability to be molded easily, the users can find more creative uses for their magic, making it more general, at the cost of its lethality and the ease of casting it (due to its heaviness and density). and another property of gold is it's highly conductive to electricity, which means it's the most conducive to working with technology. what does that mean? i'll come back to that later.

the routine is similar with other metals, the magic's nature is reliant on the metal's properties. aluminum is lightweight and thus easy to cast, but increadibly soft meaning the magic is less likely to be used for damage purposes. it's nonmagnetic and nonsparking, which gives it an advantage over other metals that are susceptible to lodestones and fire. silver is both malleable and ductile, it affects quite an area and can also target points with precision (yes that is my comprehension of ductility applied to magic) but it's also hard and lustrous, it has the capability of dealing damage with ✨ style ✨. yada yada, you get the whole deal.

now iron is a special case. it's rare to find someone whose metal is iron, most of the time it would be alloys like steel and wrought iron, but pure iron is like drawing the shortest lot. first is its magnetic, or at least one of its form is, meaning magic can easily be dispelled by a few well placed lodestones. it's hard, dealing plenty of damage, but also brittle, easily countered. but the most important part is its highly reactive and easily rusts/corrode. considering these metals are placed inside one's organs, the body forming around it and treating it as its own organ, oxygen filled blood readily flows through those metals, and oxygen with iron means disaster. essentially, being born with iron is a congenital disease unless given treatment like attaching a sacrificial anode which needs regular replacements.

alloys could be formed from iron to make it more stable, but seriously, how are you going to heat up a goddamn organ to high temperature and keep the guy alive? i haven't yet decided how and why people are born with kinds of metals, i'm tempted to handwave it away and plead "soft magic", or environmental factors, because i am certainly not delving into eugenics.

so currently that's everything about this part of the magic system, there's still the aforementioned connection with technology and catalysts that i'll explain in another post. but this was fun to think up of while i procrastinated on my report. this was me using my chemistry lessons for worldbuilding, except, you know, after it's useful to hyperfixiate anymore. this info is going to be useless to me in the next semester but what can you do.

... actually maybe i can worldbuild something with my report too.

[cullxtheherd]

✨

𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐞 𝐚 ✨ 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢’𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐡𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐥𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐚 𝐝𝐫��𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐮𝐩

𝙱𝚘𝚗 𝙸𝚟𝚎𝚛 - 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚆𝚘𝚕𝚟𝚎𝚜 [🆇]

“Good,” The Ticonderoga number two touches down, marks of affirmation into his beloved clipboard, “Keep moving.” This is the third time he’s managed to capture the Deputy and? She is faring well this time.

Checking his stopwatch he frowns - rewarding her with extra time for prowess wasn’t what he’d originally had in mind for his overarching plans here at Saint Francis or Grandview, but? They kept dying.

They just didn’t make Deputies like they used to, huh?

And, so? He had relented, marginally to please Joseph and their interests . . .

His tongue click-clacks in the negative, wagging in its toothen cage, “Try harder!” 

Truthfully she’s doing better than his past candidates for supremacy but he isn’t interested in rewarding her for mediocrity. “Only the strong succeed, Deputy,” The clipboard presses against his chest; he is done taking notes for now. He has seen enough, “Better luck next time, girlie!”

Without word or instruction his men move in, using Bliss arrows to their benefit. “Pitiful,” He comments as Pratt approaches, “The last one was feistier.” The Deputy-turned-spy seems to agree with him, “Spicy, kinda- this one . . .” Passing the clipboard off he frowns, genuinely, “I dunno.”

Suddenly and without warning he is outside. It is dark and it is cold. And he is? Wet.

Rain.

Raining.

One by one his senses chime in and he begins to shiver, teeth a chattering mess. He blinks against the misting downpour, droplets clouding his vision.

Impatient, half whining chuffing from beside him grabs his attention, wolf mouthing at his hands and arms.

“Elvis,” Jacob finally finds the clarity to open his mouth, fingers pressing wet fur. “Take us home, boy.” This isn’t a command he purposely taught the canine but he has always seemed to understand and Jacob follows, barely keeping it together enough to put one foot in front of the other. Everything is?

Loud. Too loud. Too much.

Much too much.

Desperately he tries to deal with his situation, forcing his mind in another direction and away from swirling, comforting stupefaction. 

He wonders exactly when he’d lost time - how long Elvis had waited for him?

“Good boy,” He crunches down on foliage only partially aware of he and his body and where it is going. 

Elvis whines and he finds himself coming out of another world again, but this time he is somewhere? Else. A cabin. The lights are on and the wolf barks at him from the porch. Before he can really spin the proverbial cogs the door is opening.

At first she freezes seeing him on the edge of the property, hedging the bushes at the tail end of the storm and? She is much too exhausted for this shit; especially after last nights newest murder maze. 

Elvis, whom she knows from her time being held captive pulls at her, tugging in the Herald’s direction and she tries desperately to stay rooted. Protesting silently does nothing for her and, against her much, much better-than-that judgment she approaches; cautiously like she does with the P.E.G. issued meat wagons.

“Jacob.” 

“Deputy,” He stares, unwavering and mouth on autopilot. 

Instantly she feels nauseated; nervous. “What are-?” The question dies out, lips suddenly parched and mouth too dry.

He looks down at himself taking stock for the first time in many, uncounted hours, "I-?"

He is useless but she doesn't make a mockery of him, “Come inside, it's cold.”

[thephidang]

10 years later the journey continues and I can’t quite believe I’ve lived 1/3 of my life without him 🥹

Grief has no expiration date.

It is never too late to grieve.

In the early days it was raw and overwhelming.

I numbed it. I suppressed it. I ignored it. I resented it.

The myth that time heals all wounding is understandable however really we learn to grow around the grief and expand.

Grief does not end or stop.

It becomes part of the journey weaved into the everyday, a mosaic of joy and sorrow all at once that is part of the human experience.

Loss and grief have shown me it doesn’t end with the loss of our loved one that it isn’t useless, in fact it’s led me to become a life coach something I never would have comprehended a decade ago (I was meant to be a lawyer or CMO!!).

And that is the beauty; the twists and turns of life and how pain can turn into power and purpose.

Now I honour it. I lean into it. I feel it. I’m grateful for it.

As a coach it has been a privilege to support and witness individuals navigate the complexities of grief in learning to feel the feelings, redefine the narrative and unlock the strength and resilience that emerges from heartache.

Here’s to the journey 🫶🏽

May loss not define you but propel you into greater depths of living: with gratitude, with radiance and to embrace the immense gift of not just being alive; but living 🚀

love & positivity ✨ phi

[j0kers-light]

Your blog is my my favourite after work stress relief! Can I request joker sending reader to get some DNA from batman so he can find out his true identity and maybe they kiss and joker isn't happy at all?

His Lighthouse: A Little Favor (LedgerJoker x f!reader)

A Little Favor - Oneshot

KEEP IN MIND THIS IS NOT A STORY UPDATE!

Hey hi anon!!! 🖤✨

August 10th! I've sat on this ask for... good Lordt. I don't do well with taking breaks but slowly but surely I’m cleaning out my ask inbox! Progress. Anyhoo! I combined this wonderful request with this one! I hope everyone enjoys this oneshot as I continue to rest up my hand. The next chapter will probably be updated next month.

Edit: I'm so happy to know my blog is your after work stress relief! That's why I work so hard to make great content for people to enjoy! Sending love your way! Read this tomorrow after work beloved!

Edit number two: I forgot to add the song choice lol

taglist:

@blackreaderatrisk @twinkledinkle @clemdango04 @l3ejm @tears-of-amber @what-an-angel @darthjokerisyourfather @thatsnoteii @dollster @cheetahspy @kaidennnnn @urdariingdoll @motivation-idontknowher @ins0mniac-whack @spaghettificationandpretzels @reneisance @alittlesmartcookie @ninacutebee16 @carydorse

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At the end of the day, you had to understand that this was Joker's idea.

He fabricated this crazy idea and dragged you into it. Naturally, it quickly spiraled out of control and yet, it was still his idea.

Joker had no right to be mad at you. You did what was asked of you, although his reaction to it all still hurt. Should you have known getting DNA from Batman would be the catalyst for you and Joker's first fight, you would have said no when he asked you.

At the time it was a far fetched request, it still was, but you saw how much it meant to Joker.

He was stressed out for days trying to orchestrate some outrageous plan with no results so far. He wanted something new and original to annoy Batman with and no run of the mill tactic would do.

Nothing was worse than watching Joker try and scheme and not come up with any ideas. Joker quickly became irritable and moody even towards you.

You tried offering hugs or encouraging kisses but he shrugged you off and continued working on his schemes and useless intel as if they held the answer. You were hurt about being pushed away but decided to work on your work far away from Joker and his bummy attitude.

You were honestly getting fed up with the cold shoulder treatment until Joker literally popped up out of nowhere with an eerie grin on his face. "Bunnnnnnyyyyyy, can ya do me a lit-le favor?"

His cajoling voice should have warned you. It was manipulative and sickly sweet, but it was the only source of attention Joker gave you in days– so you paid it no mind and sucked up his attention like a sponge.

Joker knew you had separation anxiety. He iced you out on purpose knowing you'd do anything for his attention. And Joker wanted you desperate enough to do anything.

What he was about to ask you was no easy task.

"Y-You want me to w-what?" Surely, you heard him incorrectly but Joker just grinned and kissed both of your cheeks, your eyelids, and finally your nose.

He was being too affectionate but it didn't dawn on you at the time.

"Aht aht, you heard me correctly, doll. I want yooooouuu, to, uhh, get D-N-A from my dear friend Batsy." He said it like it was the easiest thing in the world. You weren't sure if he was serious or not.

"B-But how?! I mean, I know the guy– we're on speaking terms," you missed Joker's jaw clenching. "But that won't help me get.. Joker, do you know what you're asking me to do?!"

He did. Joker thought you were the perfect candidate for this job.

You were an innocent civilian and the caped crusader would never suspect someone like you to be up to any nefarious deeds. You could outsmart a fox with your wit and rob someone blind with that smile of yours.

You were perfect for the job. It didn't matter if you succeeded or not, in fact; Joker expected you would fail but he still wanted you to try. There was more to this insane scheme than just getting a sample of DNA, but you didn't need to worry yourself over the details.

"Y/n.. Bunny. Sweetheart! Look at me." He waited until you did and rubbed your pouting lower lip with his thumb, "M'not askin for much. A napkin with some sweat on it, a swab of uhhh, saliva, ideally a piece of hair! It's. Not. That. Hard. Y/n. Do anything it takes. Butttt, don't fail."

During his speech Joker's tone became dark and you knew he was getting serious. It wasn't a request, this was an order.

You still were unsure but you didn't want J upset with you! He trusted you with this task and even though you were underqualified, you'd try your best!

One look into his dark jade eyes made you cave in.

"O-Okay..." You mumbled.

Joker gasped and hugged you close. He then showered your face with kisses and soft, "That's my girl! Thank you, Bunny!" into your ear.

Each little praise made you feel sick to your stomach. Just what did you agree to?

The next day you were a ball of nerves. Joker left a little after lunchtime, leaving you alone with your doubts.

What if you failed? What if you got caught? Should you seriously go through with this?

You were already an accessory by helping Joker with whatever plan he cooked up this week. Although the role was small, you could face some serious jail time– as if harboring a fugitive wasn't already a serious offense. That thought sent you down another spiral. What if Batman figured that out and arrested you? This was a big risk you were taking.

"Okay, Y/n calm down. You're overthinking things. Just stick to your plan, you got this." You psyched yourself up and headed out the door.

Gotham City was full of crime and even busier people.

You usually kept your head down and stayed out of trouble, but tonight, you wanted trouble to find you. The quicker something happened, the quicker the possibility of Batman swooping in to save the day could happen.

Now, you understood that Gotham was a huge place. The population was well over ten million and stretched out between three connecting islands. The probability of Batman coming to save you was negative zero. He had far more important things to do than save a random citizen from petty crime.

However; there was a zero chance of you running into Joker all those months ago when he first escaped, yet here you are. Dating a wanted criminal.

Anything could happen so you applied the same principle to Batman saving you. You sighed to yourself and waited for the walk sign to turn green.

The plan was to get mugged– an easy objective in this wretched city– or be a witness to something bigger. Nothing too violent or dangerous but high profile enough to warrant the bat's attention. It was only eight pm so you had all night to run into the Dark Knight and begin your actual mission.

But first, you needed a bite to eat. Your nerves were shot so you headed over to a nearby corner store that sold hot food. You'd kill for a birria taco right about now.

Joker promised that you would have extra security tonight and that nothing would happen to you on their watch. All you had to do was lure Batman out, get a sample, and book it back to your apartment.

If only things in life went as planned. While you were walking across the street, two men dressed in black nodded to themselves and followed. Around the corner, your security detail got distracted by a rival gang and started a fight, leaving you alone and without backup.

The store's bell chimed when you walked in. The smell of beef and spicy peppers hit you instantly and made your stomach cry out in glee. Rows and rows of convenient food and drinks were inside the store but you ignored it all to head over towards the hot food section. Javi spotted you coming and greeted you warmly.

Javi and his wife treated you like family since you were a regular at their store. You were always polite, a great tipper, and you respect your elders.

Iliana wanted you to join the family for real and matched you with her nephew but you weren't interested and neither was since he stood you up on the first date. You smiled fondly and cast the memory aside. You were happy with Joker even if things recently were a little rocky at present.

You came to a stop near Javi's counter with a heavy sigh. Javi already knew your order and began to prepare it.

"Dang, at least let me pretend to order!" You laughed.

He waved you off. "I know what my hija wants. Birria taco, jalapenos on the side, extra cheese, with four limas, no?"

He laughed at you feying offense. "You ain't gotta call me out like that.. but yes."

Two men bursting into the store carrying guns interrupted the playful banter. Your pension for trouble was impeccable. The night had just begun and already you found yourself in a pickle.

A gun was pointed at Javi's head as a robber demanded the money from both cashiers. Javi started speaking Spanish to stall but paid the price with a punch to the face. Thankfully he was able to hit the panic button as he fell.

"Javi!" You cried out his name as the other thug walked up behind you. He eyed you up and down with a lecherous grin.

A few patrons tried to make a run for it and were riddled with bullets. A hand covered your mouth and yanked you back into a chest before you could scream.

"It would be a shame if I blew your head off. D__n, you fine." You felt the gun dig into your temple followed by a wet kiss trailing down your neck.

The two men quickly took control of the store and then it was just you and Javi in a sticky situation.

Where was your security detail at a time like this?! You blinked back tears as minutes dragged on in a state of dread.

You were forced to watch as Javi was ordered to empty out his cash registers. Thank goodness Iliana wasn't working tonight, the woman had quite the temper and would've been shot if she opened her smart mouth. You on the other hand was smart enough to keep quiet even as the robber got handsy with you. Javi didn't like that one bit but staying calm was the only logical thing to do in this situation.

He locked eyes with you when you whimpered. "It'll be alright, Y/n. Focus on me." You nodded and tried to ignore the stranger groping your body.

"QUIT STALLIN' OLD MAN!" Javi was hit again and forced to empty the drawers faster.

You flinched away from your captor when he nuzzled your neck. "Y/n, that's a pretty name.. Hey whatcha doing later? Wanna come with me?"

Was this man, the same one holding you gunpoint, asking you out? You had no comment and shuddered in disgust when he sucked on your neck harder and humped your leg as his partner did all the work.

Javi tried to reason with the thugs to let you go, but you knew this wouldn't end well.

For starters, neither of them wore any masks. And two, the robber already had his gun raised to shoot Javi when the lights suddenly went out. The store was plunged into darkness and the two goons were immediately spooked. "What the... who turned off the lights?!"

"Ion know man but I don't like it." The gun pressed to your temple wavered. 

Then you heard it. Soft footsteps to your left.

A whooshing sound was heard and then you were pushed away from your captor. Since you had good night vision (all thanks to Joker and his love for the dark) you watched a shadow darker than the night fight off the two robbers.

Batman actually showed up. You were relieved yet curious. Weren't store robberies beneath him?

The fight hardly lasted a minute when the lights were turned back on. The convenient store was secure and you looked around at the aftermath in awe. Two robbers were lying on the floor in pain, a few dead bodies were near the door, and Javi was lying unconscious behind the food counter.

You were the only one left standing as Batman secured the store. You didn't want to follow through with your mission— I mean the man just saved you, but this was your only chance. The Dark Knight looked everything over once more before locking eyes with you.

His footsteps barely made a sound as he approached.

"Are you alright?" His modified voice sent shivers down your spine. It sounded familiar yet so foreign, but this was a friend. You weren't afraid of Batman.

You were however in shock. Getting a sample of his DNA sounded plausible in theory but now as he stood before you, you were humbled real quick.

"Y/n? Did he hurt you?" Batman asked again and reached out to touch your elbow.

You didn't know you were shaking until you collapsed into his arms with a wet sob.

The only sound in the store was your muffled cries. Joker broke his promise and your security detail failed to do their job. You were held at gunpoint and a random man put his hands on you. You could only imagine what Joker would do once he found out. Just thinking about him made you tense up in Batman's arms.

Somehow you had to get DNA from your savior. Your e/c eyes shot up to Batman's concerned ones. They were a lovely shade of blue unlike you've ever seen.

"I.... I uh. I'm f-fine." You mumbled.

Batman's eyes squinted and accessed you pensively. He wanted to say more and parted his lips to do so, but the sound of approaching sirens snapped him back to reality.

Batman sighed and was turning to leave when you stopped him, "Wait! I haven't thanked you!"

"Quit getting into trouble and you wouldn't need to thank me."

Good point. You pursed your lips with a scoff. "... Well I can't guarantee that."

Batman spun on his feet and you panicked. He was leaving and you had yet to get anything off the man! Your window of opportunity was closing so you had to think fast.

You thought back to Joker's request. 'A napkin with some sweat on it, a swab of uhhh, saliva, ideally a piece of hair!' You glanced at Batman's retreating form.

His cowl covered his hair and the black Kevlar suit guaranteed that no sweat was accessible to you. Which left....

"Do anything it takes. Butttt, don't fail."

You squeezed your eyes shut. "Bats wait!"

He wasn't supposed to be here. The panic button Javi hit sent a distress call to the GCPD and since Batman was in the area, he decided to check it out.

It was a simple robbery in progress until Batman realized you were inside.

You had a knack for getting into trouble and you were also very easy on the eyes. Nightwing teased Batman about it constantly. You were a weakness to the Caped Crusader. Whenever Batman heard a crime in progress with victims fitting your description, he dropped everything to come save you.

Bruce had a crush on you and he hoped you reciprocated those feelings.

It was the only reason why you batted your eyelashes, took the time to talk to him (like a human being) and thanked him in your own special way whenever he rescued you. It was the reason why he stopped in his tracks and gave you his undivided attention tonight.

There were a million and one things he could be doing right now yet he waited for your next move.

You rushed over, grabbed Batman by the face, and pulled him down for a kiss. He was caught off guard but you were on a mission. You and Batman had kissed in the past; a chase peck here or there, well before you had met Joker, but nothing like today.

Today, you gave it your all.

Your tongue swiped the roof of his mouth and danced with his tongue to collect the highest amount of saliva you could.

You made this kiss count and made sure it was wet and sloppy. Batman held you close with a strong hand on your waist and you tossed away your guilt of infidelity in order to get what your lover wanted.

Do anything it takes, but you would not fail Joker. He could never find out about this though. 

The GCPD cruisers finally arrived at the scene and Batman shoved you away. He gave you one last heated gaze before he left the way he came. You watched him go as you dug in your purse for the plastic baggie you had inside.

When you were sure he was gone, you spat inside of it and hid it right as cops stormed into the store.

Javi was coming to and so the interrogation began. Your bag burned hanging by your side. You did the impossible, you actually got DNA from Batman! You just hope it was enough.

The first thing you saw when you returned to the penthouse was Joker pacing in the living room.

The last thing you wanted to do was confront Joker after being interrogated by Jim Gordon and his men all night. Joker pounced on you the second he saw you.

Joker grabbed you by the shoulders and shook you roughly. "WhaT. Happened?!"

He already had an idea on what happened. He got a call from a recon team in the area saying you were taken to GCPD headquarters for questioning after being involved in a robbery.

Despite personally sending you into danger, Joker's heart dropped to his stomach. Were you alright? Did you manage to trick Bats or were you unsuccessful? Judging by your defeated face, it was most likely the latter. The report from his men didn't include details yet you never seemed to surprise him.

"I-I'm okay. Javi and I were held at gunpoint at his corner store tonight. People died so I had to make a statement downtown."

That didn't answer his unspoken question so Joker asked you point blank. "Did you get what I asked for?"

You stared at him in disbelief. Joker was perfectly calm in light of what you just said. "Joker? I said I was held at gunpoint tonight."

J smacked his lips with a shrug. "OK? Did ya get what I uhh asked for?"

You blinked in silence. There was no way this was the Joker you knew and loved.

Possessive and yandere Joker would jump at the opportunity to kill anyone who dared lay a finger on you. Mind the fact you were teary eyed! That alone would have a normal Joker on his knees trying to make you happy again. The man in front of you now was all business so you shoved him away in anger.

Joker looked confused by your actions but you didn't care. You were tired of his attitude.

"You promised me I would be safe tonight but guess what? The exact opposite happened! I almost died!"

"But you didn't." Joker interrupted. Your jaw dropped to the floor and his callous remark. It was the last straw.

You were ready to scream. "Unbelievable. Unbelievable! What is wrong with you?! Is your stupid plan to kill the bat more important than my safety?" You saw Joker open his mouth and you quickly cut him off. "Don't answer that."

His response would only break your heart even more. You shook your head and tried walking past Joker but he yanked you back by your arm.

"I won't ask again, Y/n." He glanced at your satchel. You followed his gaze and grew defensive. So you did the impossible after all. He was impressed. "Hand it over."

"Get your hands off me." You fired back.

You were tired and beyond frustrated with Joker. For an entire week he neglected you and your needs and gave you the cold shoulder for absolutely no reason. Yet when you finally do something for his sorry behind, he's the one that gets an attitude? Tough cookie.

You weren't going for it and he would not get to benefit off of your pain. You almost died to get this D.N.A. Screw Joker and his plans, you weren't giving him anything.

Joker just rolled his eyes at you and ripped your bag off your shoulder. You had no time to stop him, it happened so fast. Perhaps you were more tired than you thought.

He stormed straight to the dining room table and dumped the contents of your bag out on top of it. "Excuse me, what are you doing?!" You yelled at him.

You shuffled behind him as pens, crumpled receipts, your lip balm, wallet, etc. fell out of your bag along with a plastic bag that caught Joker's eye. He turned his nose up at the contents since it was a liquid and clung to the plastic.

He held it up to inspect it more closely. "Do I wanna know what this is?" You took one glance at the clear liquid and then proceeded to look away.

Nothing got past Joker. He was too smart and probably identified the contents already as you remained silent. He was only asking to belittle you and that made you even more mad at him. Joker was insulting you left and right tonight.

He shouted your name to get your attention. There was no reason to lie to the man and you wouldn't be nice about it with the way he was acting.

"What does it look like?" You snipped.

Joker wondered how in the world you got spit from his enemy but focused on the other things like your tone.

"Watch it, Y/n." Joker noticed your closed off demeanor and grew suspicious. "How did you geT it?"

Why did it feel like you were in the principal's office? Joker had what he wanted, there was no need for another interrogation tonight. You already went through three at the police precinct.

Joker could pretend that he didn't care all he wanted but the man put the J in jealousy. You were not going to explain how you got that sample. His foul mood stunk up the room and telling him would only make things worse.

You cleared your throat while scratching the back of your neck. "I'm tired after being held at gunpoint to witnessing a murder, to being questioned over and over by the police. It can really drain a girl... so I'm gonna turn in for the night."

You eyed the time with a grimace. It was almost midnight.

Joker knew what you were doing. He hated when you ran from things. The fact you were, was confirmation that you were hiding something.

"You know I hate, uh, re-peat-ting myself but I'll do it one moooore time. How. Did. You. Get. It?" Each word chilled you to the bone and Joker's aggressive aura had you cowering in your boots.

You had never seen this version of Joker before. He was treating you like you were one of his henchmen. And then it hit you. You were. Joker sent you on an errand and he wanted answers, however; you weren't under his employ and you owned him nothing, especially with how he was treating you.

"It doesn't matter how I got it, Joker. You wanted it, so I got it. Honestly, a thank you would suffice. Now move. I'm tired."

You shoved Joker to the side but in doing so, you presented your neck to his gaze. He zeroed in on the fresh hickey blooming on your shoulder. He was too busy this past week to even talk, let alone touch you. It wasn't his work. And then he knew why you were so fidgety and dodging his questions.

His left eye twitched and he saw red.

You were nearing the hallway when Joker caught up with you. You yelped at his sudden appearance but you weren't expecting him to slam you into the wall and yell in your face.

"Are ya too tired after uh, fooling around with Batsy? Really Y/n? Are ya that desperate for attention you'll let anyone touch you?"

You were insulted until you remembered that one of the robbers left a hickey on you before Batman knocked him out.

You tried to tell Joker this earlier but he wouldn't listen. "J.. that's not.."

His fist collided with the hall next to your head, making you jump. It was too close for comfort.

"Shut! Up! All.. I needed you to do was spook the dumb bat! Make him think I wanted to know his true identity! NOT drop your pants for him! Did ya enjoy having sex with your ex?" Your eyes widened in fear.

That was a secret you vowed to take to the grave. How did...

Joker laughed right in your face.

"I know Bat's is an old fling of yours, Y/n. Don't act all sur-prised. Why do ya think I want him dead soooooo badly, hmm? Gotta take out the competition. He asked for it, touchin what's mine. But don't worry, I got juuuuust the thing to handle our dear Bats. But I know you, Y/n. You.. you like to follow instructions. I asked for DNA and I know you got iT. Let's spread your legs and find out just how much of an obedient whore you reall–"

You ended Joker's rant with a loud slap to his face. Joker blinked in shock. He never thought you'd hit him but sure enough, it kinda stung.

You were just as speechless (and a little scared of the consequences) but you wouldn't stand around and be insulted.

Joker slowly turned his head to face you once you gained the confidence to speak your mind. 

"How dare you? I risked my life for you but the only thing you care about is how I got the sample? You wanna know? Fine I'll tell you, I kissed him! I kissed Batman because you asked me to! I was held at gunpoint, groped, and kissed on by a stranger because your men failed to protect me! A guy touched what you think is yours but you only care about me kissing Batman! You don't even care about me and my well-being! I-I watched people die tonight. I feel awful for cheating on you but is it wrong when YOU asked me to?"

He stepped back when you started to cry.

"You can't use me and then get upset when I do anything it takes to appease you! I am not her!"

"You know that I'll do anything to make you happy! This stupid plan of yours was driving you insane all week so I agreed to help but you manipulated me! Am I guilty for what I did? Yes! I am but I shouldn't have to apologize. I was simply following your orders. I did anything it took to not fail."

All was quiet in the hallway as your words sank in. Joker finally saw how much this affected you and he was at a loss on how to rectify this situation. He could start by drying your tears.

"Y/n, please." Joker raised his hands but you slapped them away.

"No. Don't touch me, I'm done. I'm done." You smiled and Joker knew you meant it. You were the only person he knew that could cry and smile at the same time and still look beautiful.

His worst nightmare was finally coming true. You were waking up from your fantasy and were kicking him out of your life. Joker never wanted this day to come but it was happening.

Joker loved everything about you but your eyes were his favorite. They were so expressive, a literal window into your soul. He knew exactly what you were thinking and/or feeling with just one look and today, your e/c eyes told him everything.

You were done.

You stared straight into his green eyes and your gaze didn't waver. Your conscience was clear and with a voice of an angel, you doled out Joker's penance. "Get out of my apartment and don't come back."

Joker slid to the floor just outside your front door in shock.

Perhaps this was one of those out of body experiences people talked about for he felt absolutely numb. He couldn't hear anything and he looked down at his hands only to find them shaking. Joker couldn't believe it. You were done. You wanted him gone and you had every right after what he did.

He failed to protect you, subjected you to a near death experience, and forced you to betray your morals and your loyalty to him— just to follow his orders.

He treated you as if you were one of his hired goons.

He treated you like he did her.

He knew he failed when you pointed out that fact. Joker promised that you'd never be involved with his organization but he broke that promise and sent you out.  How dare he not treat you like the goddess you were? He failed to cherish you and now you were done with him.

His hand came up to touch his sore cheek. You had every right to slap him. You were everything to him and he neglected you to focus more on his work. He betrayed you in the worst way.

You opened his eyes to the path he was leading you down and he felt sick to his stomach.

This past week was stressful but he went too far. He twisted your love and trust and crumbled it up like tissue paper to accomplish his goals. Nothing could rectify this but he had to try. He couldn't lose you. He just couldn't.

Joker was still seated outside your front door like a lost puppy. He considered scratching on the door if that would prove just how sorry he was. He was a fool for manipulating you and dragging you into his world, but he would spend the rest of his days doing everything in his power to earn you back.

Of course, he had no clue how to win you back but if one thing Joker was good at, it was being resourceful. His eye caught the small display case of flowers you kept in the hall off the elevator and a light bulb went off in his head.

He couldn't lose the best thing that ever happened to him. He needed to make a phone call. Joker could only hope that Morgana looked past their differences and helped him.

In the meantime, J kept an eye on you with the security camera app on his phone. You disappeared into your master bedroom and had yet to come out by the time Morgana and Mac arrived many hours later.

They looked at the infamous clown sitting on the floor and shared a look. This was worse than they thought. Morgana was weighed down with items but nudged the blond with her elbow. 

Mac sighed but cleared his throat to get Joker's attention. "Boss? Boss. We got everything you asked for." Mac said on deaf ears. 

Joker was spacing out, staring at your black front door– lost in thought. What if this didn't work? Was this truly the end? He couldn't lose his reason for existing. You had to take him back.

Morgana was getting impatient and adjusted her handful before speaking up. "He's been sitting there all day.." She whispered to Mac and he slowly nodded. He had never seen his employer look so defeated before.

The green haired clown looked like it was the end of the world and he already accepted his fate. But Mac wouldn't be here if Joker didn't have a plan in place to win you back.

Although if this didn't work, then Mac was genuinely concerned for Joker.

J had camped outside your apartment for the entire day, refusing food and water– not wanting to miss if the door opened and you welcomed him back with open arms.

Even Frost came by, not believing it when Mac reported that Joker had 'broken down' outside your place. You and J never fought before so everyone was at a loss on what to do.

"Is she still inside?" Morgana asked out the blue.

Joker came out of his fog, nodding listlessly. He looked up and saw the items he asked them to bring and jumped to his feet to help. Morgana yelped at the sudden motion and almost dropped her stuff. J rolled his eyes but took control back over the situation.

He fished out his phone to check on you. No motion detected for hours. "Hmm. She's been inside her room since this morn-ing. It's now or never."

Joker unlocked the front door and gestured for Morgana and Mac to follow him inside. Morgana glanced around and set down her supplies. When she heard Joker's idea over the phone, it didn't sound plausible, but now looking at the space, he was a mad genius.

He looked at her with an arched eyebrow. "I can work with this." Morgana assured him.

"Great, then I'll grab the rest." Mac sighed. He left the apartment to start hauling supplies up.

For the next few hours, the three of them worked on turning Joker's apology into a reality.

You woke up to the apartment's stereo system crackling to life. What was Joker up to now?

You patted your bed for your phone to check the time. Your eyes blinked in disbelief reading the time. It was close to nine pm. You slept the entire day. Granted, after you kicked Joker out, you showered, and cried yourself to sleep but you didn't think he would bother you anytime soon. You told him to get out and not come back.

But this was Joker here. Since when did he listen to anyone? You groaned to yourself and got out of bed to tell him off again.

This wasn't a small offense that he could sweep under the rug. Joker couldn't treat you like one of his goons and think it was okay. He hurt you with his careless behavior and you deserved an apology.

You knew Joker would never own up to his mistakes and apologize so you had to be an adult and assume responsibility instead. You needed some time away from Joker to think about your next course of action. Sending him away was a spur of the moment decision, one that you regretted making all day. You were never one for separation. Not having Joker nearby ate away at your heart even if you were upset with him.

Good thing Joker always thought two steps ahead of you.

The apartment was completely dark save for a path of lit candles in glass vases, situated in front of your door. You almost tripped on them walking out the door. You rubbed your eyes thinking you were dreaming but it was real.

A trail of light began at your bedroom door and led down the hall into the unknown.

You heard an instrumental playing in the background and immediately teared up. You could smell what lay ahead but it still felt like a dream. The distinct smell of roses in the air told you this was really happening.

Your hardwood floors were covered in roses and candles, creating a sea of red towards your living room.

Rose petals clung to your bare feet but you kept going. You had to see this through. The path kept going until you saw the huge arch made entirely of flowers– no doubt Morgana's doing. It was well over six feet tall and immaculate in design.

Red and pink balloons hung from the vaulted ceiling and their silk string tickled your shoulders as you walked through the dense field.

It was straight out of a romance film, everything was over the top. You had never seen so many flowers in the same room before. There had to be over a thousand individual rose petals lining the floor and over a hundred more stems in luxury vases scattered throughout the room.

You didn't know where to look, it was too much to take in. You were surrounded by roses.

You came to the end of the path and sobbed reading the giant pink balloons that spelled out, 'I'm Sorry.'

They said what Joker could never express.

Your living room was unrecognizable in a sea of roses and the soft glow of candles. Each detail sent your heart aflutter, but there was no Joker to be found. The song continued to play on a loop as the violins and trumpets set the mood perfectly but it meant nothing if Joker couldn't apologize to you directly.

You didn't know how he managed all of this while you slept. This had to take well over four hours if not more to assemble. So you waited for Joker to show and explain himself. As seconds turned into minutes, your anticipation turned into disappointment. You really thought Joker would be brave enough to come out but once again, he failed you.

You sighed and turned to head back to your bedroom when you finally spotted Joker.

He stood by the balcony door with his hands in his pockets. He had washed his makeup off and stood before you bare and honest.

The candlelight bounced off his freckles and highlighted handsome face, scars and all. His lips were bitten raw and you swore his eyes were puffy but Joker wasn't a crier. There was no reason for him to do so yet to your amazement, he blinked back his tears before speaking.

"B-Bunny.. I uh.." Joker raked a hand through his sunkissed locs and sniffed his nose. It was endearing to see a man like Joker at a loss for words. And haunting to see him so emotional.

But despite all of that, he used your favorite nickname. Earlier he only used your real name; a clear indication that he was mad at you. Now Joker was back to calling you bunny and that small detail made you crack a smile.

"Hope you don't mind.. I uh dec-or-ated a bit. You see– I uh, trieD staying away. I really did. but I can't. I can't just go away. I need my Light.. and I know ya need me too so.. P-Please, don't make me go."

You stayed still as Joker came over to cup your face. His palms were shaking but warm against your dry, puffy face and Joker noticed.

He took in every detail and commemorated it to memory since he saw you last. The tip of your nose red and raw from crying, your quivering lower lip, to the way your eyes watered staring up into his.

"My pretty girl.. You're right. You're not her and I shouldn't treat ya like that. I won't treat you like that ever again but ya gotta give me another chance. I can be anything you need me to be but I... Please let me come back. I need ya, doll. I need my Light."

You gasped in shock when Joker fell to his knees at your feet. "J-Joker!"

He left a lingering kiss on your stomach poking through your top and looked up at you.

Joker gazed at you as if you hung the stars and the moon in the night sky. His eyes rivaled them with how they gleamed in the candlelight, begging for a chance at redemption. Another song played on in the background but the two of you paid it no mind. You were keen on Joker's lips parting to speak.

"I don't deserve ya but I'll spend every day proving that I do." You carded your fingers through his hair and watched Joker close his eyes. "Please, Bunny." He sighed.

He kissed your palms and trailed his kisses up your wrist until you had enough. With a high pitched whine, you yanked Joker up by his hair and captured his lips in a desperate fever.

Joker didn't complain about the pain but heeded your unspoken command. He stood to his full high and kissed all of your pain away. You tried to talk in between gasps for air but Joker silenced your attempts with his fervent passion.

"You hurt me." You moaned.

Joker nodded and pushed you backwards until the back of your legs hit the couch.

"I know. I'm sorry, Bunny." He pushed you down and took in your beauty amongst the candlelight and sea of red.

Joker dropped to his knees again and helped you spread your legs. "Lemme make it up to ya."

[flowerhungry]

tired of being ✨disposable✨

I do not think my move to North Carolina is going well.

There are more bad things than good things living with Cameron's mom.

It is insanely hot.

I was denied health insurance, and the dental insurance available to me is useless.

I have spent more than anticipated in moving costs.

I am not writing as expected.

I am not feeling as expected--I thought I would feel relaxed. I thought I would have purpose. Instead, I feel alone. Oh, how alone I feel. Being surrounded by a family who does not want you unless you perform accordingly is dreadful. (Though not much different from my family. Unfortunately, I do not have the familial tie, love, or commitment with Cameron's family making any and all acts of engagement difficult.)

I upset easily.

Normal activity exhausts me.

Restful sleep alludes me.

Cameron and I are "fighting" more. They are not fights, but rather emotionally draining conversations about how my transition is hard for her.

Unfortunately, I have to (can) look at all of these bullet points through different eyes:

Marina is drinking heavily. She is going through an entire $60 bottle of Jack Daniels every 3-5 days. (Not counting the Vodka...) Her behavior is erratic and concerning. Her dependence on and unrequited obsession with Andy only seems to grow despite the cross-country distance. I find her desperation to connect with Christian and Cole unattractive. Especially compared to her disinterest in connecting with Cameron, her daughter who wants connection. There appears to be trouble in her relationship with Lonnie; such a quick entanglement and ensuing fallout further demonstrates her inability to maintain relationships. She is not capable of giving me what she advertised or what I had hoped for. And that is not my fault. Advice from yours truly: Wait until everyone is asleep. Tiptoe upstairs with your freshly brewed green tea and your girlfriend's homemade sugar cookies. Dig out your best stationary. Light a black candle for light and protection. Put on your big noise cancelling headphones. Outline your misgivings, your expectations, and your hurt. Commit such emotion to paper in pencil in case the tide changes (because it will). Include your best wishes; your hopes for a relationship in the near future. Fold the paper nicely, making sure not to smear your intentions. Tuck into its forever home, seal with a lick of indifference, and leave it somewhere pretty. Then, let it be.

It is insanely hot everywhere. The Earth is dying. We are dying. There is no escaping; our coolest summers are behind us.

Yes, it sucks that you were not approved for Medicaid. Yes, it is truly unfair that universal healthcare does not exist in America. Yes, you should have kept your dentist appointment in October when you were still in California and still insured. But nothing can be done. There is no going back. This is the now, and, in the now, I have fourteen cavities. I am going to have to pay a significant amount out of pocket to have them filled. But nothing can be done. Advice from yours truly: Look into other options. Make a list. Call Mike. Schedule an appointment. Move forward.

Money is a renewable resource.

Stephen King, among countless others, said it best: you must write--the only way to get better is to write. The only way to learn is to write. Writing is the answer. Stop running away from your destiny! It sounds cheesy, but it is the truth! write is the sound your heart whispers when you ask, "what was I made for?" It always has been. Forever and always. Advice from yours truly: Watch more hero movies. Carefully craft a "bad bitch" playlist and listen to it frequently. Remember, you are a bad bitch. Bad bitches do not hide from what they want; bad bitches run after what they want. Start every writing session by writing intentions like Octavia Butler: "I AM A WRITER. I AM A BEST SELLING AUTHOR. MY BOOKS MAKE PEOPLE FEEL. MY BOOKS ARE ON THE NEW YORK TIMES BEST SELLING LIST. I WRITE IMPORTANT STORIES THAT MAKE PEOPLE FEEL, THINK, AND REACT. I AM A WRITER. I AM A WRITER. I AM A WRITER. MY BOOK HAS A BIRTHDAY." Laugh at yourself. Find the joy, the childlike wonder in writing again. You like it for a reason. Find it. Capture it. Put it in an ecosystem it can survive in, like one of those cool terrariums you see on TikTok. Nurture it. Keep it alive.

It is okay to not feel good. It is okay to not clean your room. It is okay to struggle. You are doing your best and that is all I have ever asked for.

You just moved across the country into a shared living space with a complete stranger who regularly invites other strangers into the shared living space. You have no job, no school, and no friends. It is normal to struggle under these conditions. It is normal to not be sleeping regularly. Honestly, it would be weird if you were not struggling in some way.

Cameron is struggling too. Most importantly, she just wants to help you. Advice from yours truly: Let her help you.