#Challenges in Social Enterprises

[aibmecell]

Challenges in Social Enterprises

Social enterprises face unique challenges that combine the complexities of business management with the responsibility of delivering social impact. One of the biggest hurdles is balancing profitability with mission-driven goals. While social enterprises aim to address pressing societal issues, they must also ensure financial sustainability, which can be difficult when operating in markets where consumers may not prioritize social value over price. Additionally, securing funding for social enterprises can be challenging, as traditional investors often seek quick returns, while impact investors may have different expectations regarding financial outcomes. Social enterprises also face difficulties in measuring and reporting their social impact, as standard metrics are still developing, and different stakeholders may have varying definitions of success. Furthermore, social entrepreneurs must navigate regulatory environments that may not be designed for impact-driven businesses, leading to compliance challenges. Despite these obstacles, successful social enterprises can thrive by creating a balance between financial viability and social change, driving innovation, and proving that doing good can also be profitable.

[cosmicpuzzle]

5th Lord in Houses ⍣ ೋ

1st House: You are a very knowledgeable, scholarly and creative individual, who seeks understanding of him/herself through personal projection and interaction with the environment. You will get a good education, and your personality will flaunt wit and charm where-ever you go.

2nd House: You have a comprehensive, imaginative and an expressive mind. You like to exercise your judgement in a logical manner and express yourself intelligently. Your mind seeks understanding of practical matters such as the proper accumulation of resources. Career, or an income connected to the field of education, are very appropriate for you.

3rd House: Enthusiasm and mental involvement is your trademark when it comes to your projects and enterprises. You show great interest in acquiring the right skills to succeed in your endeavors, which may be focused on the different arts or crafts. Your siblings may be very creative persons who taught you a great deal.

4th House: In your heart you are generally a happy and a content person. Understanding life and using your intelligence, sooths your heart and gives you inner comfort. Education, for you, is an endeavor that yields in a good degree. You are destined to gain a good respect in society as well as ownership of an excellent property. There is a good relationship between you and your mother. Another thing that comforts your emotions is a playful interaction with your children.

5th House: Intellectual comprehension and high moral values are qualities that describe you well. You are playful and charming with your friends and family, and you are likely to connect well with your children. You gain knowledge of sacred and holy doctrines, and you have a very strong sense of purpose in life. In a sense it could be said that the flow of life supports you.

6th House: You may frequently run into hindrances in your intellectual inquiries or education, so you may need to develop your own obscure ways of gaining knowledge. Hence you might harbor a playful delight in finding things out and solving problems you own way. Your children might suffer, at one time or another, from health problems and your relationship with them could be tense and irritable.

7th House: Mentally you are strongly inclined towards close relationships or partnerships. That is where your intelligence and knowledge come to the best use. With regard to business, marriage and close social interactions, you have strong moral and honorable values. You may move to a foreign country for educational purposes. Your spouse is likely to be very intelligent and educated. Your children will be fortunate, and they may tend to travel to foreign countries.

8th House: You may need to get your education through secretive or hidden ways due to loss, challenges and other obstacles. Your mind is likely to be quite curious about occult, mysterious disciplines or crime-solving, and in that field, you are likely to be quite knowledgeable. You are very sensitive when it comes to your children, and you might feel a bit vulnerable in consideration of their welfare.

9th House: You will be endowed with higher education and be very fortunate with your teachers and spiritual or religious instructions. You seek to understand the meaning of life, and your place or purpose in life. Life will give you well-being and good fortune, both material and spiritual. You may rise in influence and power and be respected by many. You will be blessed with excellent children and grandchildren.

10th House: The career of your choice will depend on good qualities and proper education. It will also be very prominent in the limelight. You have a very strong sense of purpose in life, and you will become very influential and powerful. Your reputation is very important to you because you are very honorable and virtuous. Your children, although possibly having health-problems will become very successful and even famous.

11th House: You are scholarly, intelligent and popular among people. You are successful in your undertaking because you are clever in perceiving open possibilities and opportunities. Therefore, you will hardly ever be without resources. An older sibling of yours may have taught you an important lesson in life.

12th House: Attempts to acquire proper education might have proven futile in your life, and if you get one you might have to travel far to get one. Mentally you might get spaced-out at times, but sometimes you may get an idea that seems far-fetched but with time turns out true. But many of your mental efforts may get diffused and wasted and you may take risks and lose from it. The best expression of your mind might be in the service of the common good, in sacrifice to others. There you might find your real mental strength. There might be some difficulties with your children, either in terms of your relationship with them or in their lives they have to face great challenges or residence in a foreign country.

For Readings DM

[haveihitanerve]

Gotham Protects Her Own

“Gotham protects her own.” Bruce had whispered to him once, in a, at the time, not so rare moment of affection, cradling dick to his chest as they looked over his city. Their city. Batman and Robin. Dick had believed him, of course, but he hadn’t really felt it. Not until he had stood at the bats side for the second year in a row, and his cape had fluttered. Dicks cape had never fluttered while he was standing. Running across the rooftops? Sure. Jumping over a chimney? Most definitely. But just standing still, no movement? It had never happened. Bruce’s did, from the very beginning Bruce’s cape had flown behind him, flapping with grace in the wind that was not there. But dicks hadn’t. But now… Bruce smiled down at him, pride lining every line in his face, before he took off across the roof, a challenge and a test at the same time. Dick chased after him, and for the first time since he had become Robin, he flew. His feet barely touched down, cushioned by the roofs, by shadows, and he laughed, wild and bright and free, and Bruce joined him, laugh deep and rich and full. Dick belonged to Gotham now, the city had laid her claim on him, and as Batman and Robin flew across the city, Dick could hear a new laugh join them, light and happy and feminine, delighted by their delight, their acceptance. Gotham protects her own, and Dick Grayson-Wayne, the first Robin, had earned that right, that protection, with his leaps and jokes and belief in Batman, in a belief in the city, in the belief that it could be better. 

Gotham protects her own. Catherine Todd had murmured to him once, late one night, a bruise blossoming on her cheek, eyes heavy from drugs. She was close to death, Jason could feel it practically wafting off her, and he didn't think much of her last words, a hazy drugged hallucination, slurred speech. But then she had passed and Jason had left, choosing the street over his father and then he had understood. People came looking for him, naturally, even his father ventured out, but shadows seemed to envelop him, the streets opened to his footfalls, and he always found a safe place to sleep, never waking with his things stolen or suddenly kidnapped. Jason could feel the city, his very lifeblood, could hear her music in her traffic, felt her song in the earthquakes. Gotham cradled him, sheltered him, and when the time came, pushed him to a left unattended Batmobile, tempting him to steal the tires. For the first time, Jason doubted his city, hated her for sending him into a trap. But then he became Robin, and Gotham squealed in delight, and Jason watched in awe as Bruce flew, as Gotham made his cloak billow, as she nurtured her prodigal son. Batman had gotten injured, once, badly enough that he had struggled with his grapple line, and it had snapped. Jason had screamed, lunging for him, but it was too late. Before he could cry over the dead body of his mentor, he found Bruce at the bottom of the building, not much worse for wear at all. Gotham had cradled him, shadows leaping to cushion his fall. Jason had laughed with glee, rushing Bruce home as quickly as possible, and something had brushed his cheek, a faint kiss against his forehead. Gotham protects her own and Jason Todd-Wayne, the second Robin, had been born into that right, that protection, and felt her city pound through his body like blood, feeding his soul. 

Gotham protects her own. Tim had seen the slogan on a Wayne Enterprise billboard once, when he had been seven, an ad campaign promoting insurance and helpful housing. It had become a sort of mantra for him, something he whispered under his breath every time his father made a snide comment about Tim lacking proper talent or social skills, after every call his parents declined, after every fight that had him biting his lip to stop the tears and debate running away. Gotham protects her own. Became his lifeline, his mantra, a promise of a better life. It wasn't anything he ever believed, until he finally worked up the courage to approach Bruce Wayne about the secret. Tim slipped on the Robin uniform for the first time… And something inside him settled. A woman's voice in the back of Tim’s head squealed. But as he raced over the rooftops, finally at Batman's side as he always dreamed to be instead of a few feet behind, snapping pictures, his cape dancing with the wind, his feet hardly touching down, that mantra, that false belief of hope, of a better life, became truth. Gotham protects her own, and Tim Drake-Wayne, the third Robin, had believed in that truth his whole life, wishing with every fiber of his being that she would protect him, and she finally had. 

Gotham protects her own. David Cain had warned her once, telling her great stories of the city with air of midnight black, of water a putrid green, and of a people a hardy and tough. It hadn't been a compliment, just another obstacle she would need to overcome to fulfill her future missions. She had believed him, of course, but… she had never truly known what it meant. Not until she had stumbled into the city, hurt, bleeding, afraid, and she had felt that… otherworldly power. Reaching for her. Its tendrils soft and kind, like a mother, shadows stretching across her, shielding her, as the League prowled the streets. It wasn't until she saw him. The Bat. And his little Bird, brutal efficiency and yet mercy in every action, wasn't until she saw how Gotham cradled them, lifted them, helped them to fly. Gotham had been more accepting to her than she had thought. Maybe because she hadn't hurt her children. Maybe because she knew her pain. Maybe because Cass had been so afraid. But whatever the reason, when Cassandra Cain-Wayne took to the streets, a proud, blazing Bat on her chest, her cape billowing behind her, Gotham sang. 

“Gotham protects her own!” Arthur Brown had screamed once. It had been in a fit of rage, followed by the sounds of windows crashing and tables smashing against the wall. He had been angry, livid even, the sound of his footsteps heavy and hard on the floor as he stormed around, pissed that Batman was unreachable for him, untouchable, protected by the city he claimed to do the same to. Steph knew the truth in the words, had been protected by them her whole life, finding a window open right when her father got home, the closet door unlocked miraculously after her father had locked her up, alleyways opening for her to escape through when bigger kids picked on her, or the cops chased her. And it happened now, as Arthur Brown came storming for her, rage and malice and every evil intention written across his features. Steph could feel that tug, that indescribable feeling of home, and she took a step back, melting into the shadows as she fled, fled her home, fled her father, fled his wrath and everything wrong with the world. She settled on the roof, the way she always did when he got like this, and waited, as she always did. For it to end. For him to stop. It was that night that she saw him for the first time. Steph had heard of him, of course, the Batman was infamous throughout Gotham by now, but she had never seen him in person. Never watched his work. It was at Bethany’s house. Bethany’s father, Vincent, was screaming again. The way Arthur was. But Gotham, Gotham didn't protect Bethany the way she did Steph. Or maybe Bethany just didn't listen. But Batman.. Batman listened. Batman protected. Steph watched, wide eyed, as he jumped through the window, as he grabbed Vincent by the throat and slammed him against the wall, snarling in his face. Steph watched, hands clutching her teddy, wondering whether she would rather risk her father than this demon. But he stopped. Paused. Threw Vincent to the ground in disgust, unconscious, and turned to Bethany. Beth had stopped moving, the way she always did when Vincent got the way he did, dissociating so she wouldn't feel his hands on her. Steph didn't think it worked, but it was something. Batman bent down, gentle, slowly, a few feet away, extending a hand to Beth. Steph couldn't hear what he said, couldn't see his face, but Beth blinked at him. She blinked, and she walked closer, slowly. And Batman… Batman held her, held her until she was crying, held her through her tears and wiped her eyes and rubbed her back, held her until she was asleep without nightmares, and carried her to bed, tucking her in gently. Steph didn't know how long she sat there, watching as he cared for this little girl, forgoing the Bat Symbol in the sky, and his anger, for her. Gotham protects her own, Steph swore as she watched him drop from the window the same night, flitting away on shadows only she could see. Gotham protects her own, and she would protect Gotham. She would mold herself after the Bat, and help. 

[blughxreader]

platonic yandere batfam thoughts...

how you end up integrating into the family.

I think we often forget how insidious the long-term effects of kidnapping are. Your whole world narrows and you have nothing fulfilling outside of them.

Realistically, how many weeks straight can you do nothing but look at your phone/watch TV? I know we do this every day, but we have school/work/friends/family to provide actual fulfillment and joy. But when you take that away? And have to decide whether you should scroll through monitored social media or talk to your captors?

Especially because the TV doesn't distract from the cold, hard gaze of the surveillance cameras in your room.

Even if you read and craft and cook, it's so difficult to keep your mental health in-tact without having a positive interaction with another human being.

It would start small.

It's morning and Cass smiles at you from across the breakfast table. Not wanting to be rude, you smile tightly back.

Jason wordlessly slides you a book. You take it.

After a few months, you feel slightly more comfortable about taking up space in the manor. Alfred is out of town for the weekend, so you make a sandwich with Tim.

Bruce talks to you about the new scientific breakthrough at Wayne Enterprises and keeps you relatively up-to-date on major world events. You begrudgingly learn more interesting facts than public school has ever taught you.

Soon, you've watched everything good on Netflix. You exhausted your tolerance for social media. You've given yourself headaches reading so much. You've hit an art/writers block like never before because your input has run dry.

With no other source of entertainment, you become more attentive to the Bats.

Of course, you've always watched them out of fear. But as months tick by and you've learned their hearts (and delusions), it's obvious that they would never hurt you. Furthermore, operating within their expectations is easy enough as long as you never challenge them, so the constant danger-sense slowly turns off.

However, because you don't have any outside noise to occupy your mind, drama in the house becomes almost life-and-death to you.

Peace is so fragile, and it's all you have.

Damian and Bruce return from patrol in a rage one night. Damian's furious echoes bouncing upstairs, followed by Bruce's low, indistinguishable scorn.

Fuck, you think. Now your and Bruce's talks are going to be stilted and uncomfortable. Now Damian is going to sulk in your room for hours, unwilling to talk about what happened yet wanting some kind of reassurance.

You can't keep them from fighting, but you want to protect your peace.

When you first arrived in this dreadful manor, you never would have imagined you'd offer them kind words and affection. However it's the only thing you can do now.

There's conflict. The house is tense--your world is tense.

Should you call Dick? He has a day job again, so he can't come over until tomorrow night. It's up to you to ease the tension.

So you do, slowly, with homemade food and Bruce's favorite coffee blend and Damian's favorite hot chocolate. You sit with them individually, shoulder to shoulder (much closer than you would normally sit), and pretend everything is alright. They're surprised but very quick to snap back into a good mood.

The house is suddenly back in order and you did it all by yourself.

And with these vigilantes, conflict is ripe. There's always people coming and going, fighting and playing, and you're unwillingly the most in-tune with the well-being of everyone's relationships.

You protect your peace. You protect the house.

this shit makes me gnaw at my enclosure. if you're fem, it's worse because ✨ stereotypical woman archetype ✨ anyway this has been on my mind because i've been taking care of my baby chicks and cooking dinner most nights, so i'm like 💁‍♀️ i could be a captive house wife click here for my yandere batfam masterlist

[scarluna]

Y/N, a gifted but self-conscious graphic designer, lands a job at Jeon Enterprises, a powerhouse ruled by the sharp and controlling Jeon Jungkook, whose ruthless perfectionism hides behind an enigmatic façade. Though admired and feared, Jungkook targets Y/N’s insecurities, using them as weapons against her.

Beside him stands his best friend, Min Yoongi, a sly and unpredictable force whose hot-and-cold behavior leaves Y/N questioning his motives.

Tangled in a web of cold authority, teasing games, and unspoken desire, Y/N must navigate a dangerous love triangle where ambition and emotion collide, threatening to unravel everything.

Pairing: Jungkook x Fem!Reader x Min Yoongi

Genre/Tags: plus sized reader, enemies to lovers, ceo!jungkook, graphic designer!reader, mafia!yoongi

Link to the other chapters: ACT I / ACT II / ACT IV / ACT V / ACT VI / ACT VII

Chapters: 3 / ?

Chapter Warnings: mature language, bullying, slow burn, enemies to lovers

A/N: Let me know what you think of this chapter ;) Wink wonk.

ACT III.

The office buzzed with energy as the team gathered for an impromptu meeting. At this point, I had gotten used to the sudden meetings with absolutely no head start. Jungkook was not only controlling but impulsive as hell. No one knew what he was thinking, and for some, it was damn scary.

He stood at the head of the long conference table as me, Hoseok and Rya walked in. His expression sharp and focused over the scattered papers on the table. He wore a plain white button up shirt, dark grey jeans and his sleeves as usual were rolled up his sleeves showing off his tattoos. On one of his wrist there was an expensive Graff watch. Damn. Him and his expensiveness.

Next to him was Tina, practically glowing as she leaned just a little too close to him. Ever since I told her my piece of mind, she had been way too careful not to make it obvious because obviously people were whispering and spreading rumors. I guess she hasn't given up and had some hopes that she'd be noticed. As much as I despised her for how she treated me, I was feeling sorry for her at the same time. Her choice of clothing screamed attention too. Well, who was I to judge? I had no right to do that. Maybe someday the luck would be on her side, who knew? 

“Listen up,” Jungkook began once everyone had taken their seats, his voice commanding the room. “MNT Media, one of our main competitors, is hosting a masquerade ball next Saturday. It’s more than just a social event—they’re using it as a chance to attract high-profile clients. Our goal is to ensure they don’t take our edge in the market.”

Tina raised her hand with a smug smile. “And how exactly are we supposed to ‘outshine’ them? Is there, like, a plan for that?”

Jungkook barely glanced her way. “Do your job, Tina. That’s the plan.”

The smirk I tried to suppress threatened to break through. Tina’s face faltered, but she quickly covered it with another fake smile, twirling a strand of her blonde hair around her slim pointer finger. Gosh, she was such a cheerleader.

The room hummed with murmurs of curiosity.

“What does this mean for us?” Rya asked from her seat, her brows knit together. I took a glance at her. Unlike Tina, Rya was not showing her "admiration" too obviously and besides, she was way too mature and work-oriented to choose a good session of sex with her boss. I admired her for that.

Jungkook gestured to a slide on the projector, outlining a strategic approach. “It means we’ll attend the ball. Every single one of you is expected to be there.We’re not going to outright sabotage, but we will make sure our clients and prospects see us as the better option. Keep it subtle—this isn’t a smear campaign. It’s about relationships and presence.”And yes,” Jungkook added, his gaze cutting through the room like a knife, “graphic designers too.” His voice held a sharp edge of authority, daring anyone to challenge him.

I blinked, caught off guard by the specificity of his statement. “Graphic designers too? I thought only management should be present there,” I murmured, trying to keep my tone casual. I had never been to a ball. A masquerade ball for that matter.

He turned his head sharply to me, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “You think your job is just fonts and colors, don’t you?”

I could feel the heat rising to my cheeks as his eyes pinned me down, but I refused to back down. “Not exactly, but—”

“But nothing,” he interrupted smoothly, leaning against the table, his tattoos flexing as his forearms rested on the edge. “Visuals sell. A well-designed presentation, a strategically placed logo, or even the subtleties in our event materials can make or break a client’s first impression. We need all hands on deck for this. Even,” he paused, locking eyes with me, “the ones who think they’re just here to doodle.”

The room shifted uncomfortably, a few stifled chuckles breaking the tension. I narrowed my eyes, but there was no mistaking the magnetic pull in the air between us. I hated how his cockiness somehow made my pulse race.

Hoseok, sensing the awkwardness, cleared his throat. “So... we’re all just attending or actively involved?”

“Actively,” Jungkook replied without missing a beat, his attention still on me. “You’ll each have tasks to ensure our brand presence is felt. It’s an opportunity to network, observe, and make sure MNT Media knows we’re not going anywhere.”

Just as I thought he might say something else to push me over the edge, he sighed dramatically, breaking the spell.

“Where the hell is Yoongi?” He raked a hand through his dark hair, his tone shifting to one of pure annoyance. “That idiot is late again.”

The room immediately relaxed but remained silent as everyone looked at each other. It was odd, since we were all caught up in that ball that we didn't notice Yoongi missing. Jungkook might have been a force to be reckoned with, but his annoyance with Yoongi being careless and late was an ongoing office joke.

“Probably got distracted by his latest overpriced gadget,” Hoseok quipped, earning a round of muffled laughs.

Jungkook let out a low groan, shaking his head like he was carrying the weight of the world—and Yoongi’s constant stumbles at work—on his shoulders. “If he weren’t my best friend, I’d have fired him five times by now.”

The mention of Yoongi and the Boss brought a flicker of thought to my mind, one that I quickly buried. But it lingered, uninvited. The rumors about Yoongi being more than just another employee—they never truly left me. Supposedly, he was the son of a conglomerate empire, someone who didn’t have to work here but chose to for reasons no one could quite figure out.

Me? I wasn’t deluded enough to think it was because of me, even though the timing was uncanny. Yoongi had started here just a few days after I did, but the whispers always suggested something else. His arrival was tied to some long-forgotten scandal, one no one had the full details on, and I had long given up trying to separate fact from fiction.

Still, the idea that Yoongi might be playing a role that went far deeper than just my “supervisor” always made me a little uneasy. Not that he ever actually supervised me. His attitude made sure of that.

“Yoongi always shows up just in time to avoid the worst of your wrath.” Tina spoke out in a sweet voice. I almost gagged.

“Lucky for him,” Jungkook muttered, leaning against the table with a long, deep sigh.

His broad shoulders slumped slightly, a rare crack in his polished, sharp-edged demeanor. For a moment, he looked... defeated. Vulnerable. It was enough to stir something deep in my chest, something I wasn’t ready to admit aloud.

But the moment passed quickly. Jungkook straightened, his sharp gaze slicing through the room once again, as if daring Yoongi to make him wait a second longer.

-

As the meeting finally wrapped up, my mind drifted to a new problem. A masquerade ball meant dressing up. And dressing up meant facing my wardrobe—or lack of one. How was I supposed to show up when all I owned were dark jeans, oversized t-shirts, some cardigans and that was it. Most of my clothes were black too. 

After everyone returned to their desks, I cornered Rya and Hoseok by the water cooler.

“So,” I began hesitantly, “about this masquerade ball…”

Rya instantly perked up, her excitement palpable. “Isn’t it exciting? An actual masquerade ball! It’s like something out of a movie!”

“Yeah, except I have nothing to wear,” I admitted, biting my lip. “I don’t even know where to start. The last time I dressed up for anything was... well, never.”

Hoseok grinned, his easy charm shining through. “Relax, Y/N. It’s not about having the most expensive dress. It’s about confidence.”

Rya nodded enthusiastically. “I can help you find something to wear. There are plenty of places to rent gowns, and I bet you’ll look amazing once we get you sorted.”

Their support made my chest feel lighter, though a small part of me still hesitated. “Are you sure? I don’t want to embarrass myself. Or you.”

“Y/N,” Hoseok said firmly, placing a hand on my shoulder. He was taller than Rya and me, and if we didn't know him, we'd be intimidated as hell. He definitely had this cool aura and a resting bitch face people felt threatened by. He was smiling tho, like a sun that shined brightly. “You’re not embarrassing anyone. Especially not us. You’re going to show up, have fun, and remind people why you’re a badass.”

I managed a small smile. “Thanks, guys. I mean it.”

As we headed back to our desks, Tina’s shrill laughter cut through the air. She was perched on the edge of Jungkook’s desk, her hand resting just a little too close to his arm.

“Are you sure you don’t need a date for the ball?” she asked, batting her lashes at him.

I couldn’t resist the temptation to make a snarky comment. “Careful, Tina. You’re about one giggle away from falling off his desk.”

Her head snapped toward me, her eyes narrowing. “Stay out of it, Y/N. Didn't know fat people had opinions?”

“On the contrary,” I said, folding my arms as I leaned against my chair. “Watching you attempt to flirt is everyone’s business. But it's kinda amusing how pathetic you look. Keep it up, I will be rooting for you.” I gave her a bitter smile as she stared at me with a deep scowl on her face.

I noticed Jungkook’s lips twitch, but he quickly schooled his expression. “Enough, both of you. You are at a corporate setting.” he said, though his tone lacked any real bite.

“Oh, come on, Boss” I teased, unable to resist. “Don’t tell me you’re not enjoying this little performance.”

His eyes met mine, a flicker of something unreadable passing through them. “You should focus on your own preparations, Y/N,” he said smoothly. “Wouldn’t want you to show up unprepared.”

“Oh, don’t worry about me,” I shot back, ignoring the slight tremor in my voice. “I’ll be ready. The real question is whether you’ll survive Tina’s advances without filing a harassment complaint.”

I heard Rya and Hoseok chuckle by my side.

Jungkook shot a glare at both of my co-workers and they immediately got silent. I narrowed my eyes, arms crossed against my chest. "Y/N, if I hear one more word coming out of your mouth, I will expect your resignation letter on my desk." he spoke coldly at me. By his expression I could see that he was done with my feistiness. Oh, but I wasn't done. "If you think silencing me will solve the problem, you're underestimating me." I mumbled lowly as I stared at his eyes. He did the same and somehow I felt a tension raise in the air. Before I could continue, Rya tugged my arm toward the office, making our conversation to come to an end. Tina was staring at me in full blown surprise that I was talking to Jungkook like that. "Why don't you fire her?" I heard her ask. And then no answer from my Boss.

As I turned back to my desk, I couldn’t shake the way Jungkook’s eyes lingered on me, or the strange twist in my stomach that followed. This masquerade ball was shaping up to be more complicated than I’d anticipated.

"Girl," Rya whispered, "you are getting bolder and bolder. I fucking love that." she managed to whisper in my ear and that comment alone made me and Hoseok giggle.

-

The cafeteria was bustling with its usual noise—people chatting over their lunches, trays clattering as they moved through the line. The smell of fresh coffee mixed with the faint scent of freshly baked goods hit my nostrils, yet the familiar knot in my stomach twisting made all the apetite I had disappear. This time, it wasn’t because of my body or my insecurities. It was the looming threat of the masquerade ball.

I wasn’t exactly looking forward to it, but the thought of being surrounded by coworkers in an extravagant setting, feeling out of place in a sea of confident, stylish people... well, it didn’t sit well with me.

I sat with Hoseok, Rya, and a few others, trying to keep the conversation light. It was hard to focus on anything when I could already feel the weight of the ball hanging over me. I was always an anxious person and it took me months to get used to the pace of my work, despite the bullying.

“So, Hoseok,” Regina, one of the other graphic designers, piped up from across the table. She flipped her perfectly styled red hair over her shoulder, a flirty grin spreading across her face. “I was thinking… maybe you could be my date for the masquerade? You know, just the two of us. We’d make a great pair, don’t you think?”

My eyes flicked to Hoseok, and I saw him shift uncomfortably in his seat. He hesitated for a split second before speaking.

“I... I actually promised Rya I’d go with her,” he said quickly, a little too quickly, I noticed.

Regina’s smile faltered, but she quickly recovered, pretending to be completely unfazed. “Oh, really? Well, I guess that’s fine. Rya’s a great choice too.” She gave Rya a bright, fake smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Rya smiled back, but her expression was a bit surprised. “Oh, um, sure, yeah. Thanks for thinking of me, Hoseok.” She looked at him, and for a moment, there was a flicker of confusion in her eyes, but she said nothing more.

Regina’s attention had already moved on, her focus turning elsewhere, but I couldn’t help but notice how Hoseok’s gaze lingered on Rya for a second longer than usual. I wondered if there was something more there—something unspoken.

But before I could process the thought, my mind wandered again. It had only been a few days since I’d overheard that conversation between Jungkook and Yoongi, and I couldn’t shake the way Jungkook’s words had echoed in my mind. The teasing. The lingering tension.

I pulled my thoughts back to the conversation at hand, though I could barely focus.

Regina, in her usual confident manner, turned to the group with a loud dramatic sigh as she took a sip from her pepsi cola. 

“You know,” she began, her voice dripping with fake innocence, “it’s just so tragic when some people can’t even hope for a date. Like, what do you even do in that situation? Just... stay home and stuff yourself with food?”

Her gaze landed on me, lingering just long enough to make her target obvious. My chest tightened, but I kept my expression neutral. I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction.

“Not everyone’s obsessed with finding a date,” I shot back, forcing a calm tone I didn’t entirely feel. I mean, I lied, I was obsessed to find a date and also obsessed in looking good enough so people would take me seriously and not embarrass the company I worked for. Wasn't I pathetic too? Regina didn't have to know that.

Regina’s eyes widened in mock surprise, her lips curling into a sly smile. “Oh, of course! Why would you worry about that, right? It’s not like anyone’s lining up to take you out. I mean,” she added, tossing her hair over her shoulder, “you’d probably have better luck on one of those makeover shows first. You know, before they film the big reveal.”

Her words hit like a slap, sharp and humiliating, but I refused to let her see it.

“You done?” I asked, standing abruptly. My chair scraped against the floor with an echoing screech, silencing the room for a moment.

Regina blinked at me, her smile faltering for a split second before returning even sharper. “Oh, sure, sure. Don’t let me keep you from... whatever it is you do.”

I walked away before she could twist the knife any further, my head held high despite the storm raging inside me.

My stomach churned at the underlying judgment. Of course, Regina thought I wasn’t worthy of a "real" date. She probably thought someone like me didn’t belong in that kind of environment to begin with.

Everyone seemed to have someone to go with. Hoseok had Rya. Regina had probably already found someone else from the other teams. And me? I’d be the one standing alone, a face in the crowd with no one to share the night with.

I wasn’t even sure if I wanted to go to the ball at all. What would I even wear? How could I stand in a sea of perfectly put-together people when I didn’t even feel like I belonged in the same room as them?

My phone buzzed in my pocket, interrupting my thoughts. It was a text from Rya:

“Hey, don’t worry about anything. We’re going together. I’ll help you with the outfit too!”

Her message brought a small smile to my face, but the unease still lingered. I typed a quick response as I was walking down the empty long hallway of the offices.

“Thanks, Rya. I just… don’t know if I should go. I feel like I’ll be the odd one out.”

Her reply came almost immediately:

“Don’t even think that way! You’re going to have a blast, I promise. And we’re all going to be together, so who cares what anyone else thinks?”

I stared at the message, the reassurance in her words offering some comfort, but I still wasn’t convinced. 

Still, I couldn’t let my fears stop me. I had to at least try. I wouldn’t let them see how insecure I was.

Lost in thought as I walked down the hallway, I didn’t notice someone coming around the corner until we collided. A sharp thud was followed by a cascade of papers and folders scattering to the ground. I stumbled back, startled, as the other person muttered a low curse.

“Watch where you’re going,” came a smooth, slightly annoyed voice.

Looking up, I realized it was Min Yoongi, arms now empty as he surveyed the mess with a raised eyebrow. He crouched down to gather the papers, his expression unreadable but somehow laced with that signature playful smugness he was known for. I noticed his brown locks of hair were a mess, it was almost as if he had just gotten up and rushed here. Well, probably after a call by Jungkook he had to rush here. He was late after all.

“Sorry,” I mumbled, immediately dropping to my knees to help collect the documents.

“You seem like you’ve got a lot on your mind,” he remarked casually, glancing at me out of the corner of his eye as he snatched up a folder near my hand. “Big plans? Or is brooding your thing now?”

I pressed my lips together, biting back a retort. His tone was teasing, but I couldn’t shake the lingering sting from Regina’s earlier comments.

“Just distracted,” I replied shortly, stacking the papers I’d gathered into a neat pile.

Yoongi’s lips quirked into a faint smirk. “Right. Distracted. Let me guess—you’re working on your master plan to snag a date for the ball? I am guessing you don't have one.” He leaned back on his heels, still crouched, and fixed me with a playful, knowing look.

I froze, his words cutting deeper than I expected, though his tone remained light.

When I didn’t respond, he tilted his head. “Oh, come on. Don’t tell me you’re not going. Everyone’s talking about it. Even Tina’s got her claws in Jungkook.” His gaze flicked over me, his smirk sharpening. “Or is it that no one’s brave enough to take you?”

The heat rushed to my face, but I forced myself to look him in the eye. “Not everyone’s obsessed with finding a date, Yoongi,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

“True,” he replied with a shrug, standing up and brushing off his hands. “But it’s a shame, you know? All dressed up, standing by yourself in the corner. It’s a picture-perfect Cinderella moment, minus the Prince Charming.”

I glared up at him, my hands gripping the stack of papers a little too tightly. “Thanks for the advice,” I said flatly, shoving the papers into his chest as I stood up and headed down the hall without waiting for him to say anything else. 

-

The hum of the office felt louder than usual as I sat at my desk, trying to get through the endless list of tasks I had to finish before the end of the day. The masquerade ball loomed over me, but today, something about the atmosphere felt different. Maybe it was because I couldn’t stop replaying the conversation with Rya and Hoseok in my head. Maybe it was because deep down, I still wasn’t sure I belonged in that world? But in that moment, the phone in my hand buzzed, pulling me out of my spiral.

I glanced at the screen: Tae <3

I smiled to myself, swiping on the screen and gluing the phone to my ear. "Hey, Tae," I greeted, my voice a little lighter than it had been all day. Hearing his voice always made all the tiredness, worry and anxiety disappear.

"Hey, Y/N! I was just thinking about you," Taehyung’s warm, melodic voice greeted me through the phone. It was a comfort, like a hug I couldn’t see. "How are you doing?"

"Surviving, as always. Work’s a nightmare right now, and now there’s this whole masquerade ball thing. Honestly, I’m kind of dreading it."

He chuckled softly on the other end. "Yeah, I heard. It’s all anyone’s talking about. Are you going?"

I hesitated, fiddling with a pen on my desk. "Yeah. But I’m not exactly excited about it. Everyone’s got their dates… I don’t know, it feels like I’ll just end up standing awkwardly in the corner all night."

"Y/N," Taehyung said, his voice warm and reassuring, "you could show up wearing a potato sack, and you’d still outshine everyone. Don’t let those kinds of thoughts ruin it for you."

I smiled, the genuine kindness in his words making me feel lighter. "Thanks, Tae. You’re always so good at making me feel better."

There was a pause, and then his tone shifted, becoming more serious. "Actually, that’s kind of why I called. I was wondering if… well, if you’d want to go with me to the ball. As my date."

His words made my heart skip a beat, and I blinked, trying to process what he’d just said. "You’re serious?"

"Of course I am," he said, laughing softly. "I think it could be fun. We’d stick together, and I’ll make sure you have a great time. No pressure, though."

Before I could respond, a shadow fell over my desk, and I looked up to see Jungkook standing there. His arms were crossed, and his expression was calm—too calm.

"Work call?" he asked pointedly, raising an eyebrow.

"No," I replied, keeping my tone even, though I could feel the tension radiating off him. "It’s personal."

"You’re busy, then," he said, his voice almost teasing but carrying a hint of something sharper. "Too bad—I was going to tell you there’s something urgent you need to handle. Guess it can wait."

I narrowed my eyes at him, my grip on the phone tightening. "If it’s so urgent, why don’t you handle it?"

Jungkook’s jaw tensed, but before he could respond, Taehyung’s voice came through the phone, loud enough for Jungkook to hear. "Y/N? Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, it’s fine," I said quickly, brushing off Jungkook’s attempt to derail the conversation. "Sorry about that. So, you were saying…?"

"I was asking if you’d go to the ball with me," Taehyung said again, his voice warm but clearer now.

Jungkook’s expression shifted, his jaw tightening as he took in Taehyung’s words. His gaze darted to my phone, then back to me, his lips pressing into a thin line.

"That sounds great, Tae," I said, my voice bright despite the tension. "I’d love to go with you."

Jungkook’s reaction was immediate—his shoulders stiffened, and his eyes darkened, though he forced a sharp, insincere smile. "Perfect," he said, his tone icy. "I’m sure you and your friend will have a great time."

Before I could respond, he turned on his heel and stormed off, his steps echoing down the hallway.

"Y/N?" Taehyung’s voice broke through the silence, pulling my attention back to the phone. "Are you sure everything’s okay?"

"Yeah," I said, though my heart was racing. "It’s nothing. I'll talk to you later."

As I ended the call, I couldn’t shake the feeling of Jungkook’s reaction lingering in the air, like a storm brewing just beneath the surface. I was weirded out from the way he acted. Why was he so stingy for?

-

It was Friday afternoon, a two days after our meeting about that ball was held and the tension in the office seemed to be building, as if everyone was bracing themselves for the masquerade ball that was looming just days away. It was all anyone could talk about. Some of my coworkers were still obsessing over their outfits, while others were already talking about their plans.

I was organizing some documents at my desk, trying to stay focused despite the whirlwind of thoughts running through my mind about the masquerade ball. The idea of going felt daunting, especially when it seemed like everyone already had their perfect plans sorted out.

"Y/N," a low, familiar voice pulled me out of my thoughts. I looked up to see Yoongi leaning casually against the edge of my desk, his signature smirk playing on his lips. I frowned. He did not approach me unless it was work related. I wondered what was it this time.

"Hey," I said, surprised yet skeptical of his approach. "What’s up?"

He shrugged, glancing down at the papers I was shuffling. "Not much. Just… figured I’d check in."

I arched an eyebrow. "Check in? What for?"

Yoongi’s smirk grew, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—hesitation? Nerves? It was so subtle I almost missed it. He stuffed his hands into his pockets, his tone suddenly more casual. "You know, about the ball—" 

"Y/N!" Rya’s voice rang out, cutting through Yoongi’s words like a sharp knife. I turned to see her bounding toward us, her excitement practically radiating off her.

Yoongi straightened, his smirk fading slightly as he stepped back, giving Rya room to invade the space.

"Hey, Rya," I said, trying not to sound annoyed at the interruption.

"I’ve been looking everywhere for you," Rya said, ignoring Yoongi entirely. "So, I had this amazing idea! We should totally go dress shopping together for the ball tomorrow. I know this great place, and we can make a whole day of it and then me, Hoseok and you can go out clubbing after? I am in a mood for some drinks!" Clubbing? Oh god. It has been what- years since I went there? Too much people, loud music and bodies bodies pressing against each other.

I glanced at Yoongi, who was watching the interaction with a blank expression, though his eyes betrayed his irritation.

"That sounds fun," I said, offering Rya a small smile. "I will think about the clubbing part tho."

Rya grinned, nodding her head, yet she finally noticed Yoongi standing there. "Oh, hey. Didn’t see you. What are you doing here?"

"Just talking to Y/N," he said, his tone clipped. "But I’ll let you two get back to your plans."

With that, he turned and walked away, his usual calm demeanor masking whatever frustration he might have felt.

I watched him leave, a strange pang of guilt tugging at me. Had he been about to ask something important?

"Isn’t it great?" Rya said, pulling me back into the moment. "We’ll find the perfect dress for you. You’re going to look amazing."

"Yeah," I said, forcing a smile, though my mind was still on Yoongi and the words he hadn’t gotten a chance to say.

-

The soft hum of the mall's ambient music barely registered as Rya and I made our way through the racks of dresses. The neon lights overhead cast a warm glow over everything, but my mind was far from the sparkly fabrics hanging in front of me. We’d been at it for what felt like hours, and I was still having trouble settling on anything that felt like me. The ball was a week away and I was a ball of anxiety.

"How about this one?" Rya asked, holding up a shimmering emerald green dress, the fabric catching the light. She seemed determined to find something that would make me stand out—something that would make me feel like I belonged.

I shook my head, glancing over the dress with a hesitant frown. "It’s pretty, but I don't know... I think it’s a bit too much." I sighed, tugging at my sleeve. "I'm just not sure I want to be noticed that much, you know?"

Rya raised an eyebrow, her fingers still gripping the hanger. "You're seriously telling me you're going to let some people in the office make you feel like you don't deserve to be seen?" She shook her head, pushing the dress aside. "No way. You deserve to wear something that makes you feel confident, strong and sexy."

I smiled weakly, appreciating her effort to boost me, but inside, I felt like I was just pretending. None of it mattered when the people at work—especially Jungkook and Yoongi—were still constantly tearing me down.

As I stared at the dresses in the store, Rya’s voice cut through the silence, a casual comment that made my head snap up.

“You know, I have noticed that the Boss and Yoongi act weird lately,” she said, her voice light but with a hint of something else—curiosity?

I turned to face her, my brow furrowing in confusion. "Weird? What do you mean?"

Rya set down a dress she had been holding, turning toward me with a knowing look. “I’m just saying, I’ve seen the way they’ve been acting around you. They’ve both tried to approach you, Y/N, and it seemed like they were going to invite you to the ball.”

I blinked, completely taken aback. "What? Yoongi and Jungkook? Invite me?" I laughed, the sound more disbelieving than amused. "That’s ridiculous. Why would they even do that?"

Rya’s expression didn’t falter, but there was a glimmer of understanding in her eyes. “I don’t know, but it’s not like them. They’ve never been this... friendly with you before. And it’s not just me—other people have noticed it too. It’s like they’re genuinely interested in you.”

My stomach twisted uncomfortably. The thought of Yoongi and Jungkook—two people who had made a habit of mocking me—suddenly being “interested” in me was too much to process.

“No, Rya. I don’t buy it,” I said, shaking my head. "They’ve always treated me like crap. They’ve made fun of me for months, and now suddenly they want to take me to the ball? No way."

Rya didn’t seem convinced. “But why would they bother trying to invite you if they didn’t care at all? It doesn’t make sense. Maybe they’re actually—"

I cut her off, frustration creeping into my voice. "Rya, this isn’t about attraction. It’s probably some stupid game to them, a way to mess with me. They’re probably seeing who can get the ‘fat girl’ first and have a good laugh at my expense."

Rya looked at me seriously, like she wanted to argue, but she seemed to understand that I wasn’t in the mood to hear it. "I get it. I just wanted to point out that something feels different this time."

I let out a small, bitter laugh. "Yeah, well, if it is different, I don’t want to be part of it. They’ve always been cruel. That’s not going to change just because they want a date for the ball."

Rya sighed, clearly frustrated but still patient. “I understand, Y/N. I just want you to know that you’re worth more than their games, okay?” She gave me a reassuring smile. “I’m here for you. And this dress? It’s perfect for you.”

I took the dress she offered me, holding it against my body as I studied myself in the mirror.The royal blue dress shimmered softly under the light, its rich color catching my eye right away. The off-shoulder neckline framed my shoulders perfectly, while the fabric crossed gently over the bodice, and I knew that it was going to hug the shape of my body in just the right way. The sleeves were long and smooth, giving it an elegant feel, and the skirt flowed down from the waist, simple but beautiful as it brushed the floor. The material was soft and comfortable in my hands, with just enough weight to feel secure but not heavy. As I turned, the dress moved with me, flowing naturally and making me feel like I could wear it anywhere and still feel amazing. It wasn’t just a dress—it felt like it belonged to me.

Rya leaned against the doorframe, watching as I studied myself in the mirror. Her knowing smile made me feel both self-conscious and reassured. “You'd look incredible wearing it,” she said softly, her voice cutting through the haze of doubt clouding my mind. “You’d turn every head at the ball in that.”

I placed the dress down gently, avoiding her gaze. “I am not used to all the attention...”

She straightened, folding her arms as her tone shifted into something more persuasive. “Y/N, when are you going to stop letting their crap define what you do? You’ve always been better than that, and now? You’ve got the chance to show it.”

I sighed, running my hand over the fabric of the dress again. “It’s not that easy, Rya.”

“What is?” she shot back. “Look, if the ball feels too messy, fine. But tonight? Come out with me and Hoseok. No pressure, no expectations. Just a night to breathe, dance, and remind yourself that you’re allowed to take up space without caring what anyone else thinks.”

I hesitated, biting my lip as I looked at her. “I don’t know if I’m really in the mood for clubbing.”

She tilted her head, her smile turning sly. “Oh, please. We both know you need this. Hoseok’s got the energy of ten people, and he already said he’d buy the first round. Plus,” she added, leaning in conspiratorially, “you know you’ve been dying to see what he’s like on the dance floor.” Hoseok had mentioned that before he became a Social Media Specialist, he was owning a dance studio downtown and he was the best of them all. However, he had to shut the studio down due to lack of money. Which was unfortunate. Everyone deserved to follow their dreams.

I laughed despite myself. “Fine, maybe that’s true. But I don’t even know what I’d wear.”

Rya’s eyes lit up, sensing victory. “I’ll help you pick something out. Something killer. And trust me, when you’re out there, laughing with us, and feeling like the badass you are, you’ll be glad you said yes.”

I let out a long breath, shaking my head. “Okay, okay. I’ll come. But if Hoseok tries to drag me into one of his ridiculous dance battles, I’m blaming you.”

Her grin widened as she clapped her hands together. “Deal. Now after we chose a dress for you, let’s get you ready to turn some heads for tonight.”

-

The evening had settled in, and it was finally Saturday night—an evening I had been both anticipating and dreading. A few hours ago, Rya and I had spent what felt like an eternity picking out dresses. After much back-and-forth, I had found the perfect one: the royal blue dress that fit me like a glove. It shimmered softly under the light and made me feel like I was someone else—someone confident and powerful. It was a far cry from the usual clothes I’d wear, but something about it felt right and elegant.

I’d also grabbed a few other things for tonight—something a bit more casual for the club, but still fitting the vibe. Rya had promised me a good time, and I figured I might as well go with it. I hadn’t really done anything fun for myself in a long time, and the club seemed like the perfect way to break out of the monotony.

Sitting in my apartment now, I relaxed into the couch with Hades curled up beside me. I had a few hours before Rya and Hoseok would pick me up—around eleven—but the anticipation of what the night might bring was already starting to settle in my stomach. The drinks were free, the entrance was covered until midnight, and they were headed to one of the most famous clubs called "Devil's Dreads", known for its great music and even better drinks. Hoseok had practically been vibrating with excitement as soon as he heard that I was coming clubbing with him and Rya tonight, and it was hard not to get caught up in his energy.

I was just about to reach for my phone when it buzzed on the coffee table. The caller ID showed “Mom & Dad” and I smiled despite myself. I hadn’t spoken to them in a few days, and I figured it was the right time to check in.

“Hey, Mom! Hey, Dad!” I answered, sitting up and adjusting my position on the couch. Hades stirred but didn’t get up, just snuggling closer to my side.

“Y/N, my love! How are you?” my mom’s familiar voice came through the phone, warm and comforting. “You’ve been so busy lately. Have you been eating enough?”

I laughed softly, rolling my eyes. “I’m fine, Mom. Don’t worry. Just work, you know? It’s been a little hectic.”

“You always say that,” my dad’s voice chimed in, his deep tone carrying an affectionate teasing. “Tell us something fun. What’s been going on with you?”

I smiled, glancing around my small apartment. “Well, actually, there’s a company masquerade a week from now. It’s for work. We’ve been working on a big project, and uh Taehyung called me and invited me to be his date since he is going as well.”

There was a noticeable pause on the other end, followed by the sound of my mom speaking quietly with my dad in their native language.

My dad’s voice came as an answer a few moments later, a little more serious now. “Y/N, we’ve known Taehyung since you were little. He’s a good man. And we’ve seen how much he cares for you.”

The weight of his words hit me unexpectedly. “I—Dad, I don’t think…” I trailed off, not knowing how to respond. I had never thought about Taehyung in that way. He was just my friend, someone who had been there for me when no one else was.

My mom’s voice softened, a tone I knew well from years of gentle guidance. “Sweetheart, sometimes the person who cares for you most is the one who’s been there for you all along. Not the ones who just chase after you when you look good in a dress.”

I let out a soft sigh, sinking deeper into the couch, unsure how to take their words. “Mom, I don’t know. I’m not ready for that kind of thing, especially not with Taehyung. We’ve been friends for so long. I don’t want to mess that up.”

There was a moment of silence, and I could almost picture my mom’s thoughtful expression. “We’re not trying to push you, darling. We just want you to be happy. But don’t close yourself off to the possibility just because you’re scared of what might happen.”

I swallowed hard, feeling a lump in my throat. “I’ll think about it,” I said quietly. “But for now, I’m just focused on work.”

“Of course, sweetheart,” my dad said, his voice reassuring as always. “Just remember to enjoy yourself. You deserve it.”

“I’ll talk to you both soon, okay?”

“Take care of yourself, Y/N,” my mom said. “And have fun at the ball. We’ll be waiting to hear all about it!”

“I love you guys, bye.” I said, hanging up the phone, feeling a mix of warmth and confusion. The conversation had been more than I expected, and now I couldn’t stop thinking about what they had said.

As I sat there in the quiet of my apartment, Hades curled up beside me once again, I found myself lost in thought. Taehyung? Could he really have feelings for me? I’d always seen him as a friend, but my parents seemed so sure. It felt like the idea came out of nowhere, and yet... maybe there was something to it.

I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts. I didn’t know if I was ready to confront that possibility, but for tonight, I had a night out with Rya and Hoseok to look forward to. Maybe I just needed to focus on that for now—enjoy myself, let loose, and stop overthinking everything.

Rya and Hoseok were picking me up in just a few hours. The drinks were free, the club was waiting, and I wasn’t going to let any of my doubts ruin the night. For once, I was going to let go and enjoy the ride.

-

It had been ages since I’d stepped foot into a club. The pulsating bass, the kaleidoscope of lights, the hum of people enjoying the night—it all felt foreign yet oddly thrilling. Devil’s Dreads was a sight to behold, unlike any club I’d ever been to. The VIP section on the second floor, where we were seated, offered the perfect balance of exclusivity and immersion. From here, we had a clear view of the stage bathed in fiery orange and violet hues, with sleek, futuristic lighting patterns that pulsed in time with the music. The plush, deep purple couches I sank into were ridiculously comfortable, making it feel less like a club and more like some hidden lounge in a sci-fi movie.

Looking down at the main floor, I could see the crowd moving like waves to the hypnotic beats. But up here, it was quiet enough to hold a conversation without shouting, which was a luxury I didn’t know I needed until now.

Rya was the first to order. She went all out with something bold—a sparkling martini topped with edible glitter. It matched her red short dress perfectly, shimmering under the soft light like it was made just for her. I laughed when she held it up for a dramatic toast, the red matching sequins of her dress making her look like she belonged on the stage herself. Her dirty blonde hair was curled just perfectly, lifted in a messy bun style — Pamela Anderson. And her make up did not disappoint, dark, smoky and sexy, fitting her dark blue eyes perfectly.

Hoseok, being Hoseok, opted for a vodka on ice and an old-fashioned style of outfit. It was simple, strong, and sophisticated, just like him. His black button-down shirt with those subtle gold accents caught the light in just the right way, making him look like he belonged in a magazine ad for luxury watches or cologne. He wore black ripped jeans and his hair was messily styled. He looked like an model.

And then there was me. I scanned the menu nervously, feeling the weight of their expectations. It had been so long since I’d ordered a drink at a club, I wasn’t sure what I wanted. My eyes landed on something fruity and innocent-sounding—a cocktail called Strawberry Dream. The description promised a blend of strawberries, peach, and a “whisper” of vodka. Perfect. I didn’t want to get hammered on the first drink.

But, boy, was it deceiving. Rya had managed to pick the perfect dress for me. Firstly, I never wore something so short, and secondly, I almost never was opting for dresses. Jeans were more comfortable for me, but in this case, I loved how this dress fitted me.

I felt bold and my dress definitely matched the vibe. The black mini-dress I chose hugged my curves perfectly, the structured bodice giving it a corset-like edge that made me feel powerful. The neckline was the real star, though—crisscross straps framing my shoulders and collarbones in a way that was sultry but still sophisticated. The long sleeves balanced the look, keeping it sleek and elegant, while the fabric clung just right, making me feel like the main character.

I paired it with gold hoop earrings for a touch of glam, a natural make up made by myself and my hair was curled in beautiful long curls that framed my features, which gave me this effortless, confident vibe. As I glanced at myself in the reflection of my drink, I couldn’t help but smile—I looked like I belonged in a place like this.

We didn’t waste much time lounging. Once our drinks arrived, the music pulled us in. Rya was already dragging me up to dance, and Hoseok followed close behind. It felt freeing to let go for a while, to sway to the music and laugh until my sides hurt. I sipped my cocktail in between songs, the sweetness of the drink making it go down far too easily. Before I knew it, I was on my third glass, and the room was beginning to tilt—not in a bad way, but in that warm, buzzy, I’m-gonna-regret-this-tomorrow way. -

The music was pounding through my body, the bass so heavy it felt like it was syncing with my heartbeat. Hoseok and Rya were right there with me, the three of us lost in the rhythm, moving to the beat like we didn’t have a care in the world. The alcohol buzzing through me made everything feel lighter, almost dreamlike. The edges of the room seemed to blur as I twirled under the neon lights, laughing at something Hoseok said, though I couldn’t hear a word over the music.

That’s when I felt it—a hand on my waist, warm and unfamiliar.

I turned, a little dazed, to find a man I didn’t recognize standing close. Too close. His smile was charming enough, but the way his hand lingered made my stomach twist uncomfortably. Still, the cocktails had softened my edges, and my better judgment was slow to catch up. He leaned in, his lips moving as he said something I couldn’t hear over the music. Before I knew it, I was swaying with him, letting him guide my movements.

It was harmless, right? Just a little dancing. At least, that’s what my tipsy brain told me as I let myself follow his lead. But then his hand moved lower, settling on my hip, and a quiet alarm bell rang in the back of my mind. I froze for a second, unsure what to do, but before I could even process the situation, Rya and Hoseok were already on it.

“Hey!” Rya’s voice was sharp, cutting through the music like a knife. She stepped forward, placing herself squarely between me and the guy. Her sequin-covered arm reached out, pushing his hand away from me with more force than I expected.

Hoseok wasn’t far behind, his easygoing smile replaced with something steely and firm. “She’s with us,” he said, his voice calm but carrying an edge that made it clear he wasn’t asking. “Back off.”

The man raised his hands in mock surrender, a lazy smirk on his face. “Alright, alright,” he said, backing up, but his eyes lingered on me for a second too long before he disappeared into the crowd.

I blinked, feeling the haze of alcohol and adrenaline mix into a confusing swirl. “What just happened?” I muttered, my words slurring slightly.

Rya looped an arm around my shoulders, her expression softening as she guided me back toward our booth. “You were letting some random creep get a little too close,” she said gently but firmly.

“Yeah,” Hoseok added, his tone lighter now that the guy was gone. “You’re lucky you have us to keep an eye on you.”

I let out a weak laugh, grateful but also embarrassed. “I didn’t even realize…”

“It’s the cocktails,” Rya said knowingly, giving me a reassuring smile. “That’s why we’re here, though. To make sure you’re good.”

As we made our way back to the VIP booth, I could still feel the ghost of the guy’s hand on my waist, but it was fading now, replaced by a warm sense of gratitude. Rya and Hoseok weren’t just my friends—they were my safety net. And right now, I couldn’t have asked for anything more.

I leaned back against the balcony railing, catching my breath, when the familiar face in the crowd below stopped me cold. At first, I thought it was just my tipsy brain playing tricks on me. But no. It was him.

Yoongi.

My stomach did a weird flip as I watched him stride through the main entrance like he owned the place. His tailored black blazer and crisp shirt beneath screamed confidence, and his sharp gaze scanned the crowd with ease.

His eyes landed on me—on us—and widened slightly. I couldn’t tell if it was surprise or amusement that crossed his face first, but by the time he started walking toward our booth, his signature smirk had taken over.

“What brings you all here?” he asked casually as he reached us, his voice low enough to compete with the music but still clear. He looked between the three of us, his expression unreadable.

Hoseok, ever the social butterfly, clapped him on the shoulder. “What, are we not allowed to hang out at the best place in town?”

Yoongi raised a brow, clearly entertained. “You have good taste. But from the looks of it…” He motioned toward the now-empty cocktail glasses on our table. “...you’re drinking like tourists.”

I flushed under his gaze. “Excuse me,” I said, my words slightly slurred, “but I’ll have you know this drink was amazing.”

Yoongi’s lips twitched, and he leaned in just enough to make my breath hitch. “Amazing, huh? You might want to pace yourself. Those are just the appetizers.”

It was then that it hit me. The way he carried himself, the way the staff seemed to acknowledge him without a word, the way he spoke like he owned the place…

“Wait,” I blurted out, blinking through the haze of tipsiness. “Do you… own this place?”

The smirk deepened, and he straightened up, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Figured it out, did you?” He looked entirely too smug. “Welcome to Devil’s Dreads. My little slice of chaos.”

[reasonsforhope]

"For generations, the people of Erakor village in the Pacific nation of Vanuatu would pass their time swimming in the local lagoon. Ken Andrew, a local chief, remembers diving in its depths when he was a child, chasing the fish that spawned in its turquoise waters.

That was decades ago. Now 52, Andrew has noticed a more pernicious entity invading the lagoon: plastic.

“The plastic would form a small island inside the lagoon, it was so thick,” Andrew says. “We used fishing nets to pull some of the trash out, but we didn’t know how to get rid of it all. We couldn’t conquer it, there was just too much.”

While residents were struggling to empty Vanuatu’s waters of plastic, the country’s politicians were considering another solution. Could they stop the waste directly at the source?

Small island nations like Vanuatu face a series of unique challenges when it comes to plastic pollution. Many rely on imported goods to sustain their populations, and receive tonnes of plastic packaging every day as a result. Ocean currents pull plastic waste from around the world into Pacific waters, which eventually end up on the shores of its islands.

Few Pacific island governments have adequate recycling or waste management facilities on their narrow strips of land, so rubbish is often burned or left to wash up in rivers or lagoons like the one in Erakor. It is estimated that Pacific countries generate 1kg of waste per person a day, 40% higher than the global average.

In an attempt to drastically limit the amount of waste generated in Vanuatu, in 2018 the government became one of the first in the world to outlaw the sale and distribution of certain single-use plastics – including a world-first ban on plastic straws.

In the six years since, the results have been impressive. Thin, plastic shopping bags are hardly ever seen, with most shoppers carrying reusable bags at their local market or grocery store. At festivals and outdoor events, food is more often served wrapped in banana leaves instead of polystyrene takeaway boxes. Now-banned items used to make up 35% of Vanuatu’s waste, but now make up less than 2%.

Pictured: Pandanus leaves are now used instead of plastic bags at markets, but supply of the crop can be affected by storms and cyclones, vendors say.

The plastic islands that once choked Erakor lagoon are also shrinking.

“Since they started the ban, you can see the lagoon has become cleaner,” says Andrew.

It is a massive victory for a small island nation made up of just over 300,000 people across 83 islands...

In 2020, a second phase of the policy added seven more items to the list of forbidden plastics, which now covers cutlery, single-use plates and artificial flowers.

“It’s quite difficult to enforce because of the very low capacity of the department of environment,” Regenvanu says. “So we try to work with the municipal authorities and customs and other people as well.”

Compromises had to be made, though. Fishers are still allowed to use plastic to wrap and transport their produce. Plastic bottles are also permitted, even though they often litter coastlines and rivers.

Secondary industries have now developed to provide sustainable alternatives to the banned items. On the island of Pentecost, communities have started replacing plastic planter pots with biodegradable ones made from native pandanus leaves. Mama’s Laef, a social enterprise that began selling fabric sanitary napkins before the ban, has since expanded its range to reusable nappies and bags.

“We came up with these ideas to reduce the amount of plastic in Vanuatu,” says the owner Jack Kalsrap. “We’re a small island state, so we know that pollution can really overwhelm us more than in other, bigger countries.” ...

Willy Sylverio, a coordinator of the Erakor Bridge Youth Association, is trying to find ways to recycle the litter his team regularly dredges up from the lagoon.

“The majority of the plastic waste now comes from noodle packaging or rice packaging, or biscuit packets,” Sylverio says. He hopes the plastic ban will one day include all packaging that covers imported goods. “Banning all plastic is a great idea, because it blocks the main road through which our environment is polluted.”

The Vanuatu government plans to expand the plastic ban to include disposable nappies, and says it will also introduce a plastic bottle deposit scheme this year to help recycle the remaining plastic waste in the country."

-via The Guardian, June 20, 2024

[daloy-politsey]

From their inception, foundations focused on research and dissemination of information designed ostensibly to ameliorate social issues--in a manner, however, that did not challenge capitalism. For instance, in 1913, Colorado miners went on strike against Colorado Fuel and Iron, an enterprise of which 40 percent was owned by Rockefeller. Eventually, this strike erupted into open warfare, with the Colorado militia murdering several strikers during the Ludlow Massacre of April 20, 1914. During that same time, Jerome Greene, the Rockefeller Foundation secretary, identified research and information to quiet social and political unrest as a foundation priority. The rationale behind this strategy was that while individual workers deserved social relief, organized workers in the form of unions were a threat to society. So the Rockefeller Foundation heavily advertised its relief work for individual workers while at the same time promoting a pro-Rockefeller spin to the massacre. For instance, it sponsored speakers to claim that no massacre has happened and tried to block the publication of reports that were critical of Rockefeller. According to Frederick Gates, who helped run the Rockefeller Foundation, the "danger is not the combination of capital, it is not the Mexican situation, it is the labor monopoly; and the danger of the labor monopoly lies in its use of armed force, its organized and deliberate war on society."

INCITE! Women of Color Against Violence, The Revolution Will Not be Funded: Beyond the Non-Profit Industrial Complex

[probablyasocialecologist]

Given the support that Roser enjoys from billionaire oligarchs at the pinnacle of the capitalist system, one wonders if it is a coincidence that so much of the data he headlines for public consumption happens to valorize that system. The chief narrative that OWID deploys is that progress is due to economic growth driven by profit-seeking private enterprise and breakneck industrial productivity. He has made this view explicit in his essays published on OWID’s website. No mention that poverty mostly has been alleviated by the power of the state regulating capital, redistributing wealth, and providing services, counter to a system of immense inequities. Roser never mentions the labor, civil rights, and anti-colonialist movements that have pressed for social welfare benefits, safety nets, legal protections and political liberation for the poor. In his superficial telling, “The history of economic growth is the history of how societies leave widespread poverty behind by finding ways to produce more of the goods and services that people need.” While in the vast piles of data at OWID you will find no mention of political movements that have bettered the human condition by challenging the supremacy of capital, you will also find nothing that reveals the complex realities of what happens when societies outside the vaunted system of economic growth are absorbed into it and made to conform to its rules.

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

Errors, “Errors,” and Sci Fi

@strawberry-crocodile

tvtropes calls stuff like the wolf example "science matches on" which I think is a pretty fair shake

This.  This is what’s got me thinking so much about errors.  There’s a certain danger, here.  A certain way that this particular effect — delicious dramatic irony — tempts the mind when reading old stories, even true ones.

What do you know about R.M.S. Titanic? I ask my class every year, and the first hand rises.  “It was unsinkable,” the student inevitably says, and everyone is nodding, “or so they thought.”  I write the word UNSINKABLE on the board, underneath my crude drawing of a ship with four smokestacks.  It will be crossed out before the end of the hour, but not for the reason they expect.

“I find no evidence,” Walter Lord, preeminent biographer of the ship’s survivors, wrote, “that Titanic was ever advertised as unsinkable. This detail seems to have entered the collective mind so as to create a more perfect irony.”  Indeed, historians’ examinations of White Star Line documents show the shipbuilders themselves worried it would be so large as to risk collision; they stocked several more lifeboats than 1910s regulations required.

The War to End All Wars (deep breath, satisfied exhale), also known as World War ONE. Chuckle.  Shake of the head.  What if I told you that this phrase, used primarily in American newspapers after the fact, wasn’t meant to be literal? Nowadays we’d say The Mother of All Wars, or One Hell of a Fucking War, but we wouldn’t mean literal motherhood, literal intercourse.  What if I said the armistice and the Lost Generation and the Roaring 20s were all braced for another outbreak of European conflict, and yet we still failed to prevent it?

Did you know they were so confident in the safety of the S.S. Challenger that they put a civilian schoolteacher onboard? I do, because I’ve heard that one repeated many times.  Only, see, it’s got the cause and effect reversed.  Challenger launched on a day the shuttle’s engineers knew to be dangerously cold, because the first civilian in space was on board. And NASA knew its shuttle project would be cancelled entirely, if they couldn’t get that civilian’s much-delayed entry into space in the next two weeks.  So they launched on a cold day, and killed her instead.

These are all what cognitive science calls Hindsight Bias on the personal level, what sociology calls Presentism on the cultural level.  Social psychology’s a little of both, is primarily interested in why you’re sitting on your couch in a Colonize Mars shirt watching PBS and chuckling at the fools who believed in El Dorado.  It wants to know why the mind flees straight from “marijuana will kill you” to “marijuana will cure cancer” without so much as a pause on the middle ground of its real benefits and drawbacks, its real (mild) risks and rewards.

And they can paralyze the sci-fi writer, if you think too much about them. Jetsons is futurist one decade, retro the next.  “There are no bathrooms on the Enterprise,” the creators of Serenity say smugly, as if Gene Roddenberry should’ve simply known that decades later it’d be acceptable to show a man peeing in full view of the camera, nothing but the curve of the actor’s hand to protect his modesty.  “No sound in space,” the Fandom Menace says, “No explosions in space,” and “A space station can’t collapse in zero-G.”  Only then NASA burns a paper napkin outside of atmosphere, transmits music using only the ghost of nearby planets’ gravities, and logs onto Reddit long enough to point out the Death Star would implode in its own gravity field.  And now we’re the ones pointing, the ones laughing, at those earlier point-and-laughers.  Self-satisfied, smug in superiority.  As if we did the work to find out ourselves, instead of just happening to be born a little later than George Lucas.

[evilminji]

Okay, you know WHAT? I have been SILENT for too long! I can endure it no longer!!

There is a CRIMINAL lack, CRIMINAL I say! Of Batman/Brucie Wayne Fanfiction out there!

But Minji, you say rightfully concerned for both my sanity and memory issues, isn't Bruce Wayne... Batman?

And, fuck off maybe! I know that, YOU know that, but WE are 5th dimensional spies watching their lives from beyond the 4th wall! NO ONE IN GOTHAM KNOWS THAT!

I want Fandom access!!! *rips shirt to reveal stolen Brucie/Batman OTP shirt from I got from some Gotham based Fan meet up*

It's part of their COVER! Since OBVIOUSLY himbo Brucie Wayne and dangerous brooding Cryptid Batman are VERY different men with VERY different moral and social philosophies about how to help their shared, beloved, city! They should kiss about it!

Tell me the bat-brood don't write terrible fanfic as stress relief. Lurk, just to make sure no one's getting to close. Lurk, just for that sweet, sweet fan art and other merch of themselves or loved ones.

Tell me there aren't arguments over "are they family or co-workers" and "how DARE you suggest our Cryptid would sleep with that Metropolitan SLUT instead our sweet himbo dilf!"

Look me in the eyes and tell me Clark has not COVERED the fan conventions, as a fluff piece, because Bruce annoyed him recently.

Where are my Meta fics? My characters reacting to disturbingly good and engaging fiction about their co-work and himself?

FFS fifty shades of grey(curse its name) was originally a fanfiction! Tell me some enterprising Gothamite wouldn't go "hmmmmm >.> " and pull the same thing? Barely change details and publish? So everyone is like "that is... SO CLEARLY about Brucie Wayne and Batman. But not clearly enough to sue. Holy shit."

Then READ it.

Because who would have the BALLS to do this and what did they WRITE?

And maybe it's... disturbingly good. Like no, really. Deeply philosophical and starkly human. Lot of sex. Excellent pacing.

....about their co-worker literally going and fucking himself.

They are SO conflicted.

I. Want. Fan. Fiction. I want in-world Fandom shit! It's literally a CLASSIC otp pairing! Himbo and gritty warrior with a mysterious past! Wayne getting kidnapped fics. Bodyguard fics. Secretly I'm Batman but now you're my slutty, slutty Boss fics!

Will no one CHALLENGE themselves!? I suffer.

Brucie/Batman

Come one guys! I believe in us!

@hdgnj @the-witchhunter @stealingyourbones

[lunarlianna]

Planets in the 11th house

The Eleventh House, often called the House of Friends, highlights the strength we find in connections. It's about the power of groups, clubs, and organizations that shape our lives. Within these circles, we discover our potential and grow into our true selves. This house also resonates with our dreams and hopes. It encourages us to envision and work towards our best selves. In the Eleventh House, Aquarius, Saturn, and Uranus reign.

The Sun: in the 11th house fuels a drive for elevating group goals, often leading you to influential friendships and a leadership role within communities. Your open-minded and responsible approach aims for positive change, driven by a desire to empower and uplift. Embrace your social influence, using it to make a meaningful impact on the world around you.

The Moon: in the 11th house often brings female friendships and a sense of security through group belonging. Your nurturing instincts find expression in humanitarian pursuits, valuing collective well-being over personal gain. Working for the group's benefit is fulfilling, driven by your empathy and responsiveness to others. Within your career, friendships play a crucial role, shaping opportunities and enduring beyond tasks. Prioritize a sense of belonging to nurture your emotional well-being, guarding against detachment from your feelings.

Mercury: in the 11th House bestows an ingenious, adaptable, and intellectual mind. Achievement revolves around mental prowess. Friendships, especially with younger individuals or diverse perspectives, energize you. You thrive as a communicator within groups, perhaps as a spokesperson or secretary. Your innovative problem-solving talents shine, but seeking intellectual nourishment from your community remains vital for your growth.

Venus: in the 11th House, your friendly and tactful nature attracts a circle of helpful friends. While your nurturing spirit enhances connections, ensure self-care isn't compromised. You radiate grace in group settings, enjoying diverse activities and fostering ease. Your allure for the unique draws you to like-minded souls, creating a harmonious social presence.

Mars: in the 11th House ignites strong desires and leadership qualities, magnetizing energetic and enterprising friendships. Use caution in choosing the right companions, as you may give too much or inadvertently exploit. Active engagement in group pursuits suits you, inclining towards leadership roles. Your loyal and dynamic nature often makes you the go-to friend, embodying the role of the supportive leader within your circle.

Jupiter: in the 11th House, you thrive through social networks and group dynamics, finding success in business and leadership roles. Your charisma and global outlook make you a natural influencer. While your altruistic drive is commendable, keep aspirations within reach, allowing your positive impact to flourish among friends and the community.

Saturn: in the 11th House brings enduring acquaintances and a sense of duty to purposeful groups. You're drawn to serious connections and work diligently for collective goals, often with limited personal recognition. Patience and hard work lead to later rewards. While feeling distinct might bring challenges, value your unique essence without isolating yourself. Prioritize quality over quantity, nurturing close bonds while overcoming the fear of exclusion.

Uranus: in the 11th House signifies intuitive originality and a strong creative streak, driven by humanitarian ideals. Unconventional friendships with like-minded individuals are common, though you may seem aloof at times. Your rebellious spirit and reformative tendencies stand out, advocating constructive change. Embrace your unique essence, attracting those who resonate with your radical perspectives. Your path is meant to diverge from the ordinary, inspiring transformation.

Neptune: in the 11th House can blur boundaries between self and group, seeking acceptance and compassion within collective ideals. While enjoying group immersion, remember the distinct energy it holds. Your dual nature lets you perceive hidden dynamics, even amid the allure of unity. Empathy guides you, understanding the fine balance between individuality and collective purpose. Cultivate healthy boundaries to avoid being exploited while staying true to your compassionate connections.

Pluto: in the 11th House grants keen awareness of power dynamics within groups, triggering a cautious approach. Sensing motivations and avoiding exploitation becomes second nature. While this can be draining, it shapes a close-knit circle of trusted friends. You may shy away from institutions or new acquaintances due to trust issues. Reconnect with your heart, embrace your uniqueness, and nurture genuine connections that rekindle your spirit.

[tdlb]

I had An Idea

It's an in-universe Wayne family reality show in which Dick is being "prepped" by Bruce to take over Wayne Enterprises. Of course, it's all a PR stunt for Bruce, who plays his part stunningly but Dick comes off as a party-obsessed playboy. The scripted "challenges" they have Dick do to "prove himself" also don't help with any of this. Here's how I imagine the 12 episodes of season one going:

We meet Bruce Wayne and learn about Wayne Enterprises. We also learn about the "party-boy, teen heart-throb" Dick Grayson and Bruce's worries that he will never be able to leave his company to him.

We meet some supporting cast as Dick navigates his first day as an intern in Wayne Enterprises. There is drama within Wayne Manor.

A new face shows up to challenge Dick - Timothy Drake. His "rival". Dick's partying catches up to him in a boardroom challenge.

Dick agrees to seek help for his issues, but keeps an eye on Tim. While Dick wants to keep his issues on the down-low, Tim feels that others must know.

Dick and Tim undergo media training with seasoned reporter Clark Kent. Dick has mic issues. Tim can't believe the outcome and seethes in Wayne Manor. During a confessional, Dick reveals that he's dealing with some personal issues.

When Tim gathers Dick's friends for an intervention, an unexpected talk to Wally West gives Dick something to smile about and he opens up about not feeling like enough. Just as the talk is getting really good, it's Wally who shuts out producers. Producers then act like Dick and Wally are a couple.

In a Wayne Enterprises meeting, Tim and Dick's social media presence is scrutinized by the board. However, producers decide to reveal the comments the board made to them, framing it as something the other said. Tim and Dick almost get into a fight and with Bruce on a business trip... things escalate.

When Bruce returns, the boys are tasked to make the Wayne Enterprises charity gala memorable. Dick draws on his party lifestyle, while Tim has a very different idea. What they don't know is that both their ideas will be happening simultaneously and the guests will vote. When they figure this out, an unexpected surprise happens when Dick helps Tim save his event.

Tim and Dick start teaming up as they learn how to lead different teams in Wayne Enterprises, creating a new system.

A second round of media training, with Clark Kent throwing out curveball questions about imagined scenarios. Tim's answers are labelled robotic. Dick thinks about quitting the show.

A ghost from the past is brought up at a family dinner. Producers immediately interview each family member after it happens again and it seems like Jason Todd might be alive, especially since the world believes he died in a kidnapping attempt at the age of fifteen.

Bruce joins Dick and Tim's alliance as the three deny all knowledge of Jason Todd ever existing. At one point, Dick charmingly looks into the camera and asks "What's a Jason Todd?"

[theambitiouswoman]

How To Spot Opportunities

Opportunities are all around us, waiting to be recognized and seized. In conversation, in something you see, even in your own thoughts. Learning how to spot opportunities can lead you to growth and success. People often tend to overlook them, believing that they only come to certain people. The truth is that opportunities are available to everyone. We just need to change our perspective and learn how to identify them.

The Mindset:

Openness to Possibilities: Adopt a mindset that looks for possibilities in any situation. Instead of focusing solely on obstacles, view every challenge as an opportunity to innovate and grow. This shift in perspective opens the door to potential breakthroughs.

Adaptability: Being flexible and adaptable is key to spotting opportunities. Embrace change and be willing to venture outside your comfort zone. Adaptability helps you see potential where others might only see disruptions.

Positive Attitude: A positive attitude can work wonders in identifying opportunities. When you maintain optimism, you're more likely to recognize the silver lining in challenging circumstances, leading to the discovery of new pathways.

Always Learning: Embrace a curious mindset. Continuing to learn exposes you to new ideas and helps you stay ahead in a rapidly changing world, enabling you to recognize emerging opportunities before others do.

Examples of Spotting Opportunities:

The Airbnb Story: In 2008, two struggling entrepreneurs, Brian Chesky and Joe Gebbia, saw a unique opportunity in the midst of a sold-out conference in their city. With hotels fully booked, they decided to rent out air mattresses in their living room, turning their apartment into an "air bed and breakfast." This marked the inception of Airbnb, which has since become a multi-billion dollar global enterprise, disrupting the hospitality industry.

From Hobby to Empire: Many successful businesses have started as hobbies. For example, Dov Charney, the founder of American Apparel, began making simple t-shirts for himself. When people showed interest in his designs, he realized the opportunity to create a clothing brand that offered stylish basics, catapulting his hobby into a thriving fashion empire.

Turning Failure into Success: Walt Disney's first animation studio went bankrupt. While many would have given up, Disney saw an opportunity to learn from his mistakes and create a new, revolutionary entertainment venture. The result? The birth of Mickey Mouse and the eventual establishment of the global Disney empire.

Networking: Opportunities often lie within our social circles. A chance encounter at a networking event led to the founding of YouTube when Steve Chen, Chad Hurley, and Jawed Karim connected with early PayPal employees who provided funding for their video-sharing platform.

You can train yourself to spot opportunities in the most unexpected places. The examples shared above show that success often comes from recognizing potential in everyday situations.

How to train your mind to spot opportunities:

1. Actively Listen: Listen to what the other person is saying. Avoid interrupting or preoccupying your mind with what you will say next. Paying full attention allows you to pick up on cues, insights, and potential areas of mutual interest.

2. Identify Pain Points: While you are listening, look for challenges or frustrations the other person may mention.These pain points could represent opportunities for you to provide a solution or offer assistance.

3. Explore people's Interests: Discover the other person's passions and interests. You might find common ground, or their interests might spark ideas for potential collaborations or projects.

4. Ask Questions: Ask open-ended questions that encourage the other person to share more about themselves and their goals. Ask them about their aspirations and how they plan to achieve them. Seeing how people arrive from one point to another will better help you exercise your minds and use problem solving strategies as a way of looking at things moving forward.

5. Be Curious: Approach conversations with a curious and open mindset. Be receptive to new ideas and different perspectives.

6. Networking: Use conversations as an opportunity to network and build relationships. Meaningful connections often lead to new opportunities down the road, whether it's a job opportunity, collabs, or a chance to participate in new projects.

7. Body Language: Pay attention to non-verbal cues and body language. Sometimes, opportunities can be inferred from the other person's gestures, expressions, or tone of voice.

8. Problem-Solving and Offering Help: If the conversation veers towards a problem the other person is facing, think about how you might be able to help.

9. Be Proactive: Don't be afraid to share your own aspirations and ideas during the conversation. Sometimes, expressing your interests and goals can lead you to opportunities when the other person sees potential in working with you in some capacity.

10. Following-Up and Staying Connected: After a productive conversation, make an effort to follow up and stay connected. This can potentially lead to more opportunities as you continue to build a better relationship with the other person.

[sailorgoon13]

Lorenzo Berkshire

Basics:

Full Name: Lorenzo Berkshire

Nickname: Enzo

Gender: Male

Date of Birth: 10 June, 1980

Heritage: English, Portuguese

Blood Status: Pure Blood

Wand: Mahogany, Dragon Heartstring, 11 1/2", Stiff

Appearance:

Hair Color: Chestnut brown

Eye Color: Brown

Skin Tone: Olive undertones

Height: 5'11"

Body Type: Lean and muscular, with defined muscles in his arms, legs, and abdomen.

Style: Sophistication, elegance, and a hint of edgy flair. Favors fitted pants paired with tailored button-down shirts. For formal events, he gravitates toward sleek suits in rich fabrics like velvet or silk, often in deep, bold colors that command attention. Loves his accessories like a bold watch or thin gold chain necklaces.

Features: Jawline, Intense gaze, Well Groomed appearance, Confidence, Style

Personality:

Traits: Funny, Charming, Competitive, Loyal, Complex

Likes: Fashion, Socializing, Intellectual Challenges

Dislikes: Incompetence, Losing, Close mindedness, Disrespect

Hobbies: Quidditch, Dueling, Drawing

Fears: Failure, Mediocrity, Rejection

Family and Friends:

Father: Mr. Berkshire

A shrewd businessman who oversees the family's investments and enterprises.

Values hard work, ambition, and determination

A dynamic and adventurous wizard

Mother: Mrs. Berkshire

Comes from an old English wizarding family known for their wealth and influence.

A socialite who is actively involved in wizarding society

Down-to-earth and compassionate. Values kindness, integrity, and loyalty

Friends: Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, Theo Nott, Mattheo Riddle

Magic:

Special Abilities: Exceptional flyer

Boggart: His friends turning to the Darker side

Patronus: Falcon

Polyjuice: Rich golden hues. Would smell like expensive cologne and freshly-cut citrus. The taste would start with a sweetness like ripe figs or dates, followed by a warm, spicy kick of mulled wine or aged oak. The after taste would be like sipping fine brandy.

Amortentia: Cologne, Subtle notes of wet grass from the Quidditch pitch, red wine

Backstory:

Lorenzo Berkshire was born into a world of wealth, privilege, and magic. His parents were prominent figures in the wizarding community, known for their influence, intellect, and refined taste. From a young age, Lorenzo was immersed in a world of luxury and sophistication, surrounded by the finest things money could buy.

Growing up, Lorenzo was groomed for success from the moment he could walk. His parents instilled in him the values of ambition, determination, and excellence, encouraging him to pursue his dreams with unwavering confidence and tenacity.

As he entered Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Enzo quickly established himself as a formidable presence among his peers. He excelled academically, earning top marks in his classes, while also demonstrating exceptional skill and agility on the Quidditch pitch as a Seeker for the Slytherin team.

Outside of academics and Quidditch, Lorenzo's magnetic charm and charismatic personality made him a natural leader among his classmates. He effortlessly navigated the complexities of social dynamics, forging alliances and friendships with ease, while also earning the respect and admiration of those around him.

He also had a penchant for romance, enjoying the thrill of courtship and showering his romantic interests with attention and affection. He loved taking girls out on extravagant dates, wooing them with grand gestures and heartfelt compliments. However, despite his best intentions, his relationships often fizzled out quickly, leaving him feeling disillusioned and disheartened.

Academics:

Best Subject: Charms

Favorite Subject: DADA

Favorite Professor: Snape

Worst Subject: Arithmancy

Least Favorite Subject: Transfiguration

Least Favorite Professor: Trelawny

Student Life:

Always eager to learn and expand his magical knowledge.

Quidditch is not just a sport for Enzo; it's a passion and a way of life, and he pours his heart and soul into every match

A social butterfly

Well-liked and respected by his peers, known for his magnetic charm, quick wit, and kindness

The nicest asshole you'd ever meet

Grapples with his own insecurities and fears like any teenager

Template: @hazyange1s

[autisticadvocacy]

The Autistic Self Advocacy Network (ASAN) condemns the United States Supreme Court ruling on two combined cases, Loper Bright Enterprises v. Raimondo and Relentless v. Department of Commerce. The decision overturns a decades-old legal principle known as the Chevron Doctrine, which gives federal agencies the authority to reasonably interpret ambiguous laws when they create federal regulations. These regulations are made legally binding through a rulemaking process that is shaped by the public servants within federal agencies, the input of subject area experts across fields, and anyone who chooses to share their opinion. Instead, federal courts will now have the final say in circumstances where knowledge of highly specialized, complex, and technical issues is required. This ruling will weaken the regulatory authority of all federal agencies, including the Departments of Labor (DOL), Education (ED), Health and Human Services (HHS), the Social Security Administration (SSA), the Environmental Protection Agency (EPA), and the Food and Drug Administration (FDA).

Federal agencies create regulations or rules that fill in the gaps of laws intended to protect disability rights, civil rights laws, housing, healthcare, and more. The overturning of Chevron and the deference it gives to the courts will have devastating impacts on all marginalized people, including disabled people and particularly disabled people of color. Often, these rules concern subjects well outside of the scope of legal training, including, as Marissa Ditkowsky noted, drug safety evidentiary standards, eligibility criteria for public benefits, the threshold for disability discrimination, or guidance around worker protections. This change will lead to inconsistent and conflicting adjudication across the country, driving avoidable litigation, confusion, and decisions that do not work well for the people they affect. These harms will fall disproportionately on marginalized people, including the disability community. As the American Cancer Society explained in its amicus brief, “The resulting uncertainty would be extraordinarily destabilizing, not just to the Medicare and Medicaid programs but also – given the size of these programs – to the operational and financial stability of the country’s health care system as a whole.” The same can be said for programs within DOL, ED, SSA, and many other federal agencies. This decision is also undemocratic, moving crucial decisions out of a process where the public has an opportunity to weigh in and into the purview of the courts.

This decision invites challenges to the forty years of legal precedents relying on Chevron. While these cases and the existing Code of Federal Regulations are not automatically overturned by Loper and Relentless, many will be challenged in the months and years to come. Future regulations are also under threat. Agencies may be less ambitious in fulfilling their mandates, protecting the public, and using taxpayers’ resources well in the face of increased risk that courts will undo their work. The endangered regulations include the Home and Community Based Services (HCBS) Settings Rule, the final rule implementing Section 504 of the Rehabilitation Act, the final rule implementing Title IX of the Education Amendments, and the final rule regarding section 1557 of the Affordable Care Act (ACA).

ASAN echoes the demands of the American Federation of Teachers (AFT): “Congress should urgently enact Chevron deference into law by passing the Stop Corporate Capture Act (H.R. 1507), a comprehensive blueprint for modernizing, improving and strengthening the regulatory system. That would ensure public input into regulatory decisions, promote scientific integrity and restore our government’s ability to help the workers and consumers it is meant to serve.”

ASAN will fight to safeguard federal agencies’ ability to protect the people we serve. We will continue to do what we always have: defend the rights, health, services, safety, and well-being of all people with disabilities.

Here are statements on this issue from our allies:

Democracy Forward

National Health Law Program (NHeLP)

National Education Association (NEA)

American Federation of Teachers (AFT)

The Autistic Self Advocacy Network (ASAN) is a national grassroots disability rights organization run by and for autistic people. We believe that the goal of autism advocacy should be a world in which autistic people enjoy equal access, rights, and opportunities. ASAN works to make sure autistic people are included in policy-making, so that laws and policies meet our community’s needs. Our members and supporters include autistic adults and youth, cross-disability advocates, and non-autistic family members, professionals, educators, and friends.

[gotham25052]

Dark Waters Part 5

As the social fabric of Gotham begins to fray and the Joker's intrusion into her life escalates, Anna struggles to maintain control. But is she threatened by the Joker or by something within herself?

Contents: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

Tag list: Let me know if you'd like to be on a tag list for this fic!

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Author's note: Excited to share Part 5! There are a lot of callbacks to earlier chapters in this part, so if you are interested in reading but haven't gone through those yet, you might want to read parts 1-4 first to get the most out of it. The second half of Part 5 is a really special section of this whole story.

This week is fire and ice (not like Game of Thrones, just like literal fire and ice :) )

TW: 18+, violence, mild sexual content, brief swearing, heavy themes including contemplation of death

Dark Waters, Part 5

He could feel it, even from the first time he saw her. The wildness in her, her fierce loyalty, her absolute devotion, he could feel it in her body when he first held her to the wall, he could see it in her eyes. He knew that she relished her freedom in the same way he valued his - she would never accept being penned in. The only prison she would accept was the one she had built for herself. He would have to break her out of it.

All her best qualities were clouded by fear. But it was like seeing the sky on a stormy day, the clouds didn't faze him at all, and the brief glimpses of clear sky appeared even bluer in the grayness.

He ruled the city, but with those eyes, she seemed to be from beyond the city or from beyond this world. When he looked at her, he was lost in their cold blue depths, like the fire in his soul had a short reprieve from the constant heat. He wanted her, he wanted her to worship him, he wanted her to follow every command without question, he wanted to discover all the hidden details of her thoughts, her body. But it was taking so long to pull her out of her stupor that years of neglect had built around her, so hard to find the fire inside her. She was a challenge, but he liked a challenge.

He was busy directing his organization, destabilizing Gotham's institutions and swaying public opinion against the powers that be. This side project was a welcome distraction, a place to pour his overflowing energy and drive. The day to day of managing his growing enterprise was tedious and quite boring in its details. Just like war, he had days of frenzied activity followed by weeks of waiting.

He had been with many partners. Some pretended to suffer at his touch, imagining that was what he wanted as the Joker of Gotham, but he knew better. By the end he always called their bluff. This one, though - when he was near her, it was like touching a pool of still water and watching the ripples disturb the surface all the way to the edge. He knew she would make an excellent lover.

Annie tried to get back to her routine after her last encounter with the Joker. She filled her days with work, taking on extra hours, coming home only when she was completely exhausted. She was hoping that at least looking in the mirror would stop reminding her of their last outing together as she watched the dark dye fade away, but the passage of time didn't seem to help.

She avoided stopping on her commute to watch the waves break onto the rocky seawall. The first time she had tried to go back, she questioned whether it was the wind tossing her hair, or his hands running through it again. She left and had not returned. Being there only reminded her of him now.

But most of the time, she didn't feel at all. She had been able to shut herself off for years. The truth was, she was really just waiting for her clock to tick down when the Joker found her in the ballroom.

Her experiences with others throughout her life, especially men, had alternated between unpleasant and brutal. Keeping herself in isolation soothed her wounds and made her feel as if she was somehow fulfilling her role in life. But deep down, she knew she was really just waiting for it all to end. He had disturbed her peace when she had already given up on this world, and she felt anger boil up under her skin. The tranquility she had worked for seemed to be gone, pulled out from under her.

She guarded herself vigilantly, immediately throwing out any thoughts connected to the Joker. She resented the fact that he had found a place in her mind at all. She was used to exercising extreme self-control. Years of holding in her desire to escape from the Church before she was finally able to leave, and now deprivation and a life of solitude in Gotham - she had been able to hold herself in tight check for a decade.

The nights were what she most dreaded. No matter how tired she was when she went to sleep, she would wake up, breathless and alert, feeling the strange rhythm of his voice in her ear. Was it fear that tortured her? She told herself it was, and blotted out her memory of those nights once morning came. She was very good at dividing herself into parts.

But now here she was washing the tubs that had held the meats and cheeses for the restaurant in Upper Gotham, and the mundane task took just enough of her attention that she forgot to watch her thoughts. Her mind turned in the direction she was constantly avoiding.

She remembered seeing his disheveled hair and calculating face in the front seat of the car. He was so self-assured, avoiding every snare in the streets of Gotham. She felt the strength of his arms when he held her, effortlessly pushing her through the hallways of the news studio; she recalled how his breath flowed over her ear when he dragged his fingers along her neck, slowly following the line of the necklace, his look of absolute concentration in the mirror…

"Annie, we're trying to do dishes here," a voice broke into her daydream. She shook her head as if it would dislodge the memories and focused on the work with twice the energy, pushing all the intrusive thoughts out of her mind.

She finally took off her apron, hanging it in the usual spot. She left the restaurant to catch the evening bus back to Lower Gotham. She stared straight ahead during the ride, feeling the anger spark under her skin, upset that she had let her thoughts wander so freely at work. The bus stopped, and she headed off to transit to the other line that would take her the rest of the way home.

She was looking at the ground, trying to get to the next bus as quickly as possible, when she heard it. The base of a thunderous boom in the distance that was so powerful it broke windows just down the street from her. She felt the shockwave run through her chest and echo in her head. She instinctively looked back, searching for the source of the explosion. A building in the distance was alight, engulfed in flames.

The pink radiance of the sunset mixed with the orange glow of the fire. A series of smaller explosions followed the first blast, each one closer than the last. She stood mesmerized by the dancing flames and the bizarre glow of the sky.

"Get out of the way, bitch, are you crazy?" shouted a man as a he pushed past her, nearly making her fall. Regaining her stance, she continued to study the slow march of disaster unfolding down the street, the sounds unmistakably drawing nearer. The wind whipped past her face, carrying the shouts of those who were caught up in the rush. She realized that the crowd was quickly closing in on her, the distance between people slowly disappearing so that she began to fear that the oncoming mass would crush her.

She started when she felt as if the rush of the wind running past her had been replaced by the touch of a familiar gloved hand, moving her hair away from the side of her face. She thought she was just imagining his presence again, until she heard his voice in her ear. "It is magnificent," he said softly, his tone strangely comforting to her in this chaotic situation.

She turned around and saw him back away from her, lifting up his arms to address the crowd. His words seemed oblivious to the strong wind and carried through the air as if it was still. "She's just enjoying the show," he announced, as if her fascination with the oncoming disaster was the most understandable reaction in the world. The crowd pressed back, away from the figure that stood before them with the recognizable white face and garish red mouth. She saw his jacket billowing out behind him, the waving orange silk lining flickering like the flames, almost glowing.

He grabbed her shoulders, forcing her out of the mass of people, and the fear of being trampled by the oncoming crowd temporarily overcame her caution. She followed his guiding arm to run with him, as those who had surrounded her before stared at them, shocked to see the strange woman arm in arm with the infamous Joker.

They came to a vehicle that looked like a hybrid of an armored truck and a van. He opened the side door to the back and had her inside and sitting down beside him before she could even consider breaking away. She surveyed her new surroundings as the vehicle sped off. The space inside had been hollowed out and benches were arranged around the perimeter. There were a few drop seats in the back, and that is where the Joker had sat down with her. Several men rested on the benches on either side, holding a motley array of firearms.

She gave him an alarmed sideways glance, and he saw the question in her eyes. "We're just a diversion, kitten," he said, pulling his shotgun out from under the seat and setting it on his lap. His words did not provide much assurance.

"What… how did you do this?" she asked, confused about how he could have orchestrated so many explosions on the border of Lower and Upper Gotham.

"Me? I didn't do anything. Chaos has its own way of spreading, once it starts. I just connected the people who wanted some fireworks with the explosives. The pieces came together on their own. Everyone hates Dent's checkpoints."

"It's more than just the checkpoints - there are buildings on fire," she explained, her curiosity overcoming her fear for a moment.

"Well, dynamite isn't very precise. Who knows, maybe some of these people had other axes to grind with the city." He gave her a sidelong glance and stared forward again, making it clear he was ending their brief conversation.

The evening was turning to night as they drove on. The Joker reclined, putting his feet up on the bench that lined the left side of the space. He seemed to be in good spirits, along with his men. He held the gun in place with one hand and lit up a cigarette with the other, joining several of them who were smoking. Though he always seemed to be at ease, she realized she had never truly seen him in his element until now. His occasional nervous ticks were gone, replaced by a fluid calm in the way he raised the cigarette to his lips and held the gun as if it belonged there, close to his body.

His jacket hung down luxuriously, the fabric draped over his reclined figure. She stared at the orange lining, bright against the dusty purple of his pants, shimmering with new color as the streetlights shined through the high windows of the van. She watched the darkness and light play on the glowing surface. She glanced up at his face, seeing his glittering eyes staring forward like an animal at home in the night. He seemed truly comfortable, absolutely contented, in this van speeding through the cold winter streets of Gotham, deciding which area of the city to strike.

He opened his mouth wide, leaning his head back and letting the smoke drift out slowly. Suddenly he turned toward her, a sly smile spreading over his face.

"So you like a man with a gun, kitten?" He said it as if he had discovered a hidden vulnerability in her.

He got up and walked to the front of the van, apparently talking to the driver. The men began to sit up, everyone on alert now, waiting for something. She looked around her nervously. He came back to sit down again, inspecting her face with pursed lips as if he was making a decision. He reached into his pocket and then grabbed the top of her head with his other hand. Her confusion caused her to stay still, and just as she was coming to herself enough to protest, she realized he was putting earplugs into her ears. "You wouldn't have done it right," he said as he finished.

"Now get on the floor," he instructed, as if he was asking her to do the simplest chore.

"The floor, now," he growled, the urgency becoming clearer as the van sped on more erratically. She pushed herself out of the seat and got on her hands and knees on the unsteady floor, not sure what to do. He rolled his eyes and sighed, putting his hand on her back and pushing her down so that she would lie flat. She simply let him guide her - this was his world. He pushed her prone form under the drop seats as calmly as if he was closing a drawer, and then quickly spun away to arrange his men. They were all rising from their seats and positioning their weapons.

From her limited vantagepoint, she could see rushing feet and heard muffled sounds as the van stopped short and the side door opened. She saw them disappear, heading outside, and then heard the gunshots loud and clear. She couldn't believe she was wearing earplugs - the sound of the shots was still deafening. Finally the sounds became more sporadic and then died out altogether. She waited in the eerie silence until the men returned, and she felt some relief as she recognized the Joker's shoes.

She moved herself forward to get a slightly better view of what was happening. She looked on in alarm as she saw the men pull a wounded police officer into the van. Her apprehension seemed well-founded as the Joker came closer to the man, but the officer had the opposite reaction to what she had thought - she saw relief wash over him when he looked up to see the Joker. She realized that this must be one of the officers who was working for him. The Joker quickly removed his gloves and coat and was looking carefully at the wound on the man's shoulder.

The driver had sped away from the scene but now he pulled into a secluded alley. The Joker grabbed a small box mounted on the sidewall of the van and opened it, revealing first aid supplies. She watched in disbelief as he took the cap off a syringe and pressed it into the man's uninjured arm. She could see the officer's body relax, and the Joker proceeded to stuff the wound with gauze he pulled from the box and held a dressing over it, applying pressure to the injured shoulder.

"We'll take him to the casino, Doc Gallo will fix him up," he ordered, and the driver sped off again.

She began to understand the deep bond the Joker had with his men. He seemed to treat them so poorly in every other setting, and at times she had wondered why they even bothered to stay with him. But here was where they were truly doing their work, and the Joker treated them all as equals. He stayed with them during the fighting, and the whole group worked together like a well-oiled machine. Many of the men looked like the outcasts of society, but here together somehow they seemed to fit in, like some forgotten army battalion that was still fighting despite the war's end. She could tell from the relief on the officer's face that he trusted the Joker completely, totally at ease under his care.

They arrived at what must have been the "casino," but it looked like just another abandoned building on the outskirts of the city. They carried the injured man inside, leaving her alone again. The minutes felt like hours to her, and she wondered if they were eating or resting before resuming the journey. Finally they returned without the officer, and the van began moving toward the center of town again. They seemed to have forgotten she was there, and she was happy to remain hidden under the seats.

They were speeding through the night and all sounds were muffled. She felt secure in her forgotten spot, and the long days of work and broken sleep that had been going on for weeks finally caught up with her. She fell into a deep slumber, lulled by the vibrations of the tires on the city's pavement.

He squatted down beside the drop seat, peeking under it to see Annie there. Her soft form, just barely moving with the breaths of deep sleep, stood in contrast to the hard metal edges of the van's interior. The men were surprised to see him take off his jacket and lay it over her so gently, without waking her. He settled himself back in his seat above her as if he hadn't noticed their stares, but then moved his head upward and let his gaze roam over all of them. They looked away, not wanting to trifle with his anger.

She began to wake up, the first weak light of morning showing through the few windows in the van. She could see his feet move away from her as he stood up, walking to the front to talk to the driver again, and she crept halfway out from under the seat, wondering how much time had passed - it seemed that most of the men had been dropped off, with only a few left seated in the front. The Joker was there too, talking with them. A heavy cold had fallen without many people in the back to warm it up. He turned and began moving toward his seat again, grabbing onto the benches to steady himself on the bumpy ride, in a rapid and disjointed walk that was somewhat unnerving to watch.

He bent down, crouching on the floor. "Ah, kitten, finally waking up from your nap!" he tutted with his tongue as if she was a misbehaving child. She suddenly understood why she was so warm when she saw him without his usual purple jacket and realized that it was draped over her. She was embarrassed, quickly removing it and maneuvering around him to pull herself to her feet. She was shivering almost immediately, the cold in the unheated space settling on her. The cheap jacket she had decided to wear to work that day didn't protect against this kind of weather. He stood briskly, bringing the coat up with him and regarding her as if she was absolutely stupid. He quickly wrapped the coat around her and fitted her arms through the long sleeves. He paused for a moment, holding the front edges of the jacket, their bodies close together. She almost stopped shivering for a moment with her shock at his gesture and her worry about what would happen next. But he quickly wrapped the coat around her and pushed her back into her seat.

He resumed nonchalantly lounging beside her. She stopped shivering right away - the jacket was extremely warm, as if the lining was in fact a glowing fire. She felt as if she was transported back to the moment in the ballroom - he had pressed her to the wall and the purple cloth had scratched against her face when he turned. But now the satin lining felt smooth against her skin.

She noticed a faint trace of perfume in the collar, a delicate scent that reminded her of the luxury of the parties she sometimes staffed, the fine clothes and settings that were so far removed from her daily life in Gotham. It woke her up tenfold, surrounding her in a fragrance that came from another world, far from this bleak and empty metal box.

The time passed lazily as they drove, the Joker periodically looking out the window and giving directions to the driver. Suddenly, he stood up. "Here's your stop!" he said with feigned cheer, and put his hand under her arm to pull her up beside him. She realized they were just outside her apartment building. The van came to a halt.

He studied her expression as they stood together. She looked up into the painted canvas of his face and suddenly felt bewitched by some kind of strange magic, as if she no longer had control. Her hand reached up and took a strand of his disheveled hair, running it slowly between her fingers. So beautiful, the shades of blonde and brown and green there. She saw the muscles tense in his jaw and his expression became stern. His hand reached up to grab hers - at first she thought to remove it from his hair, but he simply held it there with a gentle firmness.

The grasp of his hand was easier to read than his inscrutable face. She took it in both of her own and brought it down as if to study it. She slowly removed the purple glove.

She surveyed it carefully, as if it was something from another world, a hand that could inflict such cruelty. But his fingers were not boxy or crude. Instead they were strong and graceful, long like the fingers of an artist. She hesitated when she saw the faint outlines of triangular scars under his nails, so much like her more recent wounds from only a few months ago. He seemed to pull back, and she stopped analyzing. She covered his nails with her hand, wrapping his fingertips protectively. He shifted his eyes from their intertwined hands to her flushed face.

He moved his other hand up to her chin, resting his fingers there and slowly running a gloved thumb over her bottom lip. All the breath left her body. She stood utterly motionless, moving her gaze downward to avoid looking up at him, instinctively aware that they were walking on a knife's edge. She questioned herself, anxious thoughts racing through her brain - why had she reached up to touch him? What had propelled her to act this way?

He removed his thumb from her lip abruptly, instead bringing his hands to either side of her head and running his fingers through her hair, drawing it away from her face. The warmth crept onto her skin and spread down through her neck, but when his fingers reached the back of her head, she felt them close suddenly to make fists. He grasped her hair tightly, yanking her head back as he did it, forcing her to look at him. She took a panicked breath, terrified at his furious expression, his lips drawn back like a vicious dog. In the half light inside the van, his eyes looked utterly black and heartless when they met hers. He let out a grunt of frustration and let go of her. She realized he was roughly removing his jacket from her arms, and suddenly felt the cold night air as he pushed her out of the van onto the street.

"Goodbye, kitten," he called, the anger barely hidden under his measured voice. He motioned to the driver and continued standing by the open door, watching her as the van sped away.

The destruction the Joker had orchestrated made travel much more difficult between the two halves of the city. Three bridges had been damaged, but one remained open. People like Annie who had to commute to Upper Gotham for work found it possible but much more difficult to find transportation.

Once again, it seemed like Dent was taking the situation that the Joker had created and making it exponentially worse with his focus on law and order. After the attack on the checkpoints, he had them rebuilt and announced the beginning of a passport system for Lower Gotham. In a matter of days, a special identity card would be required for anyone from Lower Gotham to pass back and forth between the two sides of the city.

Annie had listened carefully to the news, because she immediately recognized a problem. The police would be issuing the passports. She would have to return to the station, something she was extremely reluctant to do. One day when she was passing through the apartment lobby, she recognized the mayor's voice coming from the small television and stopped to listen.

The reporter asked, "So Mayor Dent, if I want to get this passport and I have a parking ticket, should I be afraid to go to the police station to register for it?"

"No, of course not," Dent replied. The mayor and the reporter had laughed, in a way that only people who had never had more of a criminal record than a parking ticket could laugh about that question. "But those who want to hide anything from the police had better not bother trying to get that passport. If you want to travel freely in Gotham, you need to follow the rules. Those on the wrong side of the law can just stay where they are," Dent said authoritatively.

She felt the weight of his words and knew she was trapped. She couldn't go to the police to get the passport.

Annie felt the walls closing in around her. She was still making it to work, but her commute time had doubled. With the restrictions on travel that would soon become reality, it was clear to her that she would be losing her job.

She didn't know what to expect from the Joker, and after his fury when he had thrown her into the street, she wondered if perhaps he had finally given up on her. She cursed herself for her lack of self-control and the strange affection she felt for him.

And, it was somewhat easier to ignore her feelings, because a new problem was gradually taking all of her attention - she had developed a terrible cough in the weeks since the checkpoints had been destroyed, and it was getting exponentially worse by the day. It was her constant companion, keeping her up at night, taking away her appetite, and making it harder and harder to breath.

She decided that she had to try to make it to the hospital before the passport system restricted her travel. There were no major medical facilities in Lower Gotham, and now with the steady stream of people migrating away from that part of the city, the local clinics were closing without staff to operate them.

She got off the bus, happy to have finally arrived at the hospital. The cold breeze on her face felt refreshing after the hot, crowded bus, but as soon as the bitter air hit her lungs, a coughing fit began that doubled her over and forced her to stop walking. She recovered quickly, though, entering the lobby of Gotham General. The always-bustling hospital was even more crowded today, as the usual emergency room area had overflowed into the main lobby and several folding tables had been set up to handle the crowd. Everyone was afraid that Lower Gotham would be completely cut off from Upper Gotham and its hospitals, prompting people like Annie to come and receive care before that happened.

She got in line at the nearest table, trying to stay focused on the reason she was here in the turmoil of the busy room. She finally came to the front of the line, where she found two men, clearly stressed by the onslaught of people. The first one pulled out what looked like a checklist and invited her to sit down. "What are your symptoms?" he said promptly. She explained the constant coughing, but not being used to seeking medical care, didn't know exactly what to say that would point out the seriousness of her illness. The other man took out an oxygen monitor and placed it on her finger, getting a good reading on her levels. The two men looked at each other, deciding her fate.

The younger man filling out the checklist looked down and seemed to be tallying whatever he had recorded. "It looks like you don't qualify to be seen right now, but we would encourage you to come back in a week if your symptoms don't improve."

The polite sentence turned her stomach. She spoke hesitantly, even though she felt that the answer could be a matter of life and death for her. "I'm sorry, but I may not be able to travel here again after the passport system starts… this may be my last chance," she explained. The older man pulled the younger aside and asked Annie to excuse them for a moment.

"Did you hear her cough? She may have pneumonia, and you know how that could turn out if she doesn't get back here when it gets worse," said the older man quietly but urgently to the younger.

The young man pulled out the checklist, scanning it again. "We have to go by the rules, for everyone, that's the only way this is fair. You know that we are full for today anyway. We can't just keep squeezing people in. She scores under the urgent status, so she can't be seen."

"So what if she's really sick and wants to come back in a week. What if she's some gangster's girlfriend down there in Lower Gotham and he won't let her go to the police station to get the passport. What then? She's gonna die of pneumonia at whatever age she said, was it 27? And that's on us."

"We can't break the rules for one person, it's a slippery slope."

"Ok, Chris, but I'm taking my break. You go tell her no, I don't want any part of it."

The younger man came back to the table, sitting down slowly, clearly bringing bad news. "I'm sorry, miss, we only have room for urgent status patients today and you don't score in that range. Please come back next week if you are still having trouble and we will look at it again."

His repetition and controlled voice made it clear to her that he was not going to change his mind. She rarely expressed her anger, and she didn't do it in any obvious way now, but she gave him a cold stare as she stood up from the chair. She underestimated the power of her icy blue eyes. Her look of betrayal and hatred stayed with him, haunting him in the coming weeks.

She woke up, not knowing if it was morning or evening. Some sun shone through the windows into the messy apartment, but she couldn't remember when she had fallen asleep. She had given up most of her daily routine, and trash littered the floor. She had been here for a week now, since she had returned from her failed trip to the hospital. Her illness had worsened quickly after that outing, and she was no longer able to commute to work. Yesterday, she had received the call she knew she would be getting - Gotham Culinary had let her go due to her absence from her shifts.

She laid back down, her head spinning from recognizing her situation. The Joker's destabilization of Gotham certainly had given her more time, because the authorities were finding it harder and harder to extend their reach into her region of the city. However, at some point, the apartment manager or even the police would come remove her from the building. The movement of people away from Lower Gotham and the closure of businesses meant that it would be impossible to find other work. And entering Upper Gotham without a passport was now impossible.

The cough that had been nagging her for weeks broke out with particular ferocity, wracking her body and contracting her ribs painfully. She knew that there was no way she could get to the only open medical facilities in the city now, all in Upper Gotham. She had seen posters when she visited the hospital about mobile clinics traveling to Lower Gotham, but she knew they wouldn't show up near her for weeks.

And then there was the other thing - the Joker might return. Anything was possible with his mercurial personality. She had hidden her weakened condition from the men stationed outside, afraid that he might come to check on her. She tried to regain her composure and stifle her cough every time she left the apartment.

After her encounter with the Joker in the van, she was even more frightened of him, and she realized, also frightened of herself. How could she have been so brazen to reach her hand up to touch his hair? Why had she done that? Even now, part of her knew - part of her soul seemed to warm, thinking of the gentle pressure she felt when he had reached up and held her hand. She quickly snuffed the feelings out, her mind focusing on finding a way to avoid meeting him again.

She looked around at the small apartment. One thing was for sure - she didn't want to die here, a possibility that was seeming more and more real as her illness debilitated her day by day. She made the decision - she would walk out, walk into the depths of the Gotham winter. Somehow it seemed more free, more dignified, than the Joker's men finding her cold body days or weeks from now. She shuddered thinking of it.

She put on the boots reserved for her commutes to work and her long winter jacket. She knew she wouldn't last long, but tried to plan well, dressing warmly, wearing a hat, and taking some small provisions in her pockets. She didn't really want to admit to herself what she was doing - choosing her own death rather than letting it overtake her slowly.

She still locked the door behind her, instinctively, and slid the keys into her pocket. She didn't know if the Joker's men might be watching her from a distance - they usually weren't just outside her door these days, but she knew they were likely around somewhere. But that didn't matter, they would just think she was going out on an errand.

She maintained control of her emotions, walking out onto the unplowed streets. She quickly felt she had chosen correctly - the quiet beauty of the city covered in snow, with hardly any cars or vehicles, and very few pedestrians even, was exactly what her eyes had been craving. Many people had left this area since the food crisis and now the new passport system, and the terrible weather was keeping those who remained inside today.

The emptiness in front of her reminded her of bleak winters upstate as a child, when she was sometimes able to wonder off on her own and explore the broad fields and scraggly fencerows. As she embarked on the journey, though, the cold air began to tear through her lungs, making it harder and harder to breath. She felt an ominous rattle in her chest every time she exhaled. Her legs also felt much weaker than usual, and she quickly ran into trouble navigating the foot-deep snow all around her. It was the normal level of cold for Gotham but a surprisingly generous amount of snow.

Still, she felt somehow freer, having made a decision and leaving her destiny completely up to fate. She looked around her in all directions, realizing it made no difference which way she went. A quiet laugh escaped her, just from the absurdity of her hopeless situation. She couldn't see where the streets ended and the roads began with the fresh cushion of snow. She picked up her foot, closed her eyes, and half-spun around, letting it land wherever it would. She then followed that path, trudging through the empty whiteness of the abandoned streets.

Based on her condition, she was surprised at how far she made it. She just kept struggling against the snow as if she was fighting her own personal demons, until she simply couldn't anymore. She let herself fall back into its soft embrace, keeping her head and chest up by leaning back on her elbows until she was finally too tired for that too and let her head simply fall back into the waiting snow.

Memories flooded into her mind from the past, mostly of her childhood. Bleak as it was, she recalled moments of happiness too and smiled at the simple joys of early life. She thought over the more recent past and her endless struggles to claim some little piece of life in Gotham. Never-ending commutes to party venues, endless labor that exhausted her - why had she done it? The answer eluded her, turning into mist like many of her thoughts now were.

A flash of color illuminated her mind - then there was him - she had finally come around to the Joker. He travelled across her thoughts like he had strode into the ballroom that night - purple clad and with that red smile, reaching up all the way to the dark unreadable eyes. They flashed with such a fire - in her mind's eye, she began to see the flames crackling through the windows of the burning penthouse, after she had regained consciousness in the alleyway. Those warm flames, too dangerous to touch, but so beautiful, consuming everything… She felt suddenly warm, recalling how warm she had become when the Joker put his jacket around her, the heat seeming to enter her skin and travel all the way to her bones.

Why had she pushed him away? Didn't she want him to hold her, didn't she love feeling the pressure of his body on hers? She had struggled so hard against it - she smiled at her own foolishness - the only streak of color to ever enter her life, and she had run away from it. Now, she could let go, she had no reason to force away her tortured emotions. It was the end of her life. She held his fiery eyes, the sound of his voice, the texture of his clothes, she held them in her mind and dwelled on them, at last letting herself relish the thought of him and freely watch the greedy fires. She really did feel very warm. She managed to pull off her hat and unbutton her jacket, but her freezing fingers and exhausted body lost the ability to move further. She fell back again, her open eyes matching the unbroken blue of the winter sky. But in her mind, she saw only flames.

When his men let him know she left the apartment and had not returned that evening, it was as if he knew what had happened intuitively. He arrived outside her building within minutes. The cold, clear air filled his lungs, giving him new energy. The dark purple of his jacket stood in stark contrast to the pure white of the snow as he stopped there in the streetlight. The condensation of his breath hung momentarily in the air like smoke and the only sound was the muffled crunch of the snow under his feet.

He knew that time was limited. His men arrived. "Smith - take the route to Upper Gotham - Lutz - walk toward the shoreline - Fletcher, go toward the nearest store…"

He ordered them to follow all the logical paths that she might have traveled. He stood outside the apartment building in the snow, having dispatched his men and knowing she could be difficult, maybe even impossible, to find, especially with this sudden wind that had picked up, erasing her footprints.

Night had fallen and with it the brutal winds that sometimes tore through Gotham in the winter. Like a wolf tracking prey, he searched the white horizon with his keen eyes. He could see nothing, no indication of where she had trudged through the deep snow. It had eaten her tracks back up. He closed his eyes, pausing for a moment - and took a step. He had sent his men on all the paths that made sense - he would take this one that fate had simply chosen for him.

He began the trek straight ahead, shielding his face from the blowing snow that the wind had picked up. His hair blew freely, but his gloves and coat provided enough warmth to keep him going. He ploughed ahead, growing more and more concerned that no one had found her yet. He didn't think she would get this far.

Then he saw it - the black material of her jacket, visible above the white horizon. He ran over to where she lay, his eyes opening wide. She was reclined, with snow now freely blowing over her and inside her open jacket, her hair strewn out in hazel strands, contrasting with the blank white of the snow. Her eyes were open, and her face was completely peaceful - the slightest smile was formed on her blanched lips and the usual stress that animated her features was gone.

If he were a kinder man, he would have left her there, in peaceful repose. But he was not a kind man.

He kneeled beside her and began to slap her face - first gently, and then more severely. "Annie! Come back to me!" he commanded, his voice echoing emptily in the deserted streets. He shook her body, trying to see if any life was left there. The tiniest twitch of her expression showed him that there might be hope. He tried to brush what snow he could off of her, and lifted her up like a child. He walked with long strides, seemingly oblivious to the depth of the snow, to the nearest building. It looked uninhabited. He took the gun out of his jacket and broke the glass with the handle until it was completely out of the way, and stepped inside. It looked like an abandoned hair salon. He set her down as gently as he could in a large chair.

He was on the phone. "Yeah, get the helicopter, that's what I said. Gotham General, that's right. The southeast wing, I want everyone out but the doctors and nurses." He hung up, looking at her and wondering what he could do. He had gotten them out of the wind, that was something. He took the gun out of his pocket and placed it in his waistband on his back, quickly taking off his coat and wrapping it around her.

She began to stir, her expression slowly turning from peaceful to confused. "Where am I?" she asked hoarsely.

"You're… safe. You're with me, I'm taking you to the hospital."

Her confusion only seemed to grow. "I can't see very well."

"It will get better," he said, standing above her, alarmed to see the blue eyes darting back and forth but happy to see her begin to come back to herself. The effort of talking suddenly sparked a coughing fit, and her previously still body rocked with raspy coughs.

"Jesus, Annie," he murmured under his breath. The coughing finally ended.

"How did you find me?" she asked.

"Just by chance," he answered.

He ran to the blown-out window. He heard the helicopter he had expected in the distance. His men were lucky they had been able to come through for him.

"Ok, let's go," he said. Her confusion only grew, but she had already given up to fate when she stepped out of her apartment that day. She simply let him hand her limp body over to the man in the helicopter. The Joker followed after her, stepping in just as the helicopter took off again, lifting off of the white blanket of snow and leaving Lower Gotham behind. Her vision was blurred, but she could hear the rotors and feel the movement of the chopper as they sped over the city toward Gotham General.

The chaos in the southeast wing of the hospital had calmed somewhat by the time they arrived. Most of the staff and patients had been moved to other sections of the building. Things seemed to be in general disarray as they wheeled Annie down the hall. The Joker let them take her to a room to assess her condition. He knew they'd need to start IV fluids and probably antibiotics immediately.

After a short time, the staff seemed to finish their work and were filtering out of the area. The Joker strode into the small room, the remaining staff staring at him, terrified. They quickly slid along the walls to the exit, and he did nothing to stop them. He closed the door after the last one departed and looked at her. She was awake, staring up at the ceiling. He sat in the visitor's chair near her bed.

"Annie, don't go on any more of these vision quests please," he said in a frustrated voice. "Was it worth it? What did you see?" He sat back in the chair, reclining. "Did you see the angels coming down for you?" He put his hands together and fluttered his fingers like a child imitating a butterfly.

She focused on speaking with significant difficulty.

"I saw you."

Saying the words seemed to exhaust her and she closed her eyes.

It was his turn to be silent. He reached over toward her hand lying so peacefully on her chest, and then seemed to have a second thought and drew his arm back suddenly. Her eyes remained closed. He got up. "Ok, kitten, I'm going to make sure they take good care of you. I have to go now, it's a … liability for me to be here. We'll figure out a way to get you out when you are better.

"Listen, this is your id and wallet. You are Sarah Lilton now. You need to keep yourself anonymous, or else you'll become collateral. Sarah can disappear when you leave here, and that way you don't have to. Do you understand?"

She nodded her head, too tired to speak more.

He placed the wallet under her shoulder and slipped out of the room.

He strode down the hallway to the nurse's station where he had told them to gather hospital staff. Several of his men were there corralling the staff and doctors into the area.

"Who's in charge here?" said the Joker, and was greeted by silence. It was clear to him who the others were trying not to look at. "It must be you, Dr… - what's your name?"

"Dr. Breall." the man said stiltedly. The Joker rolled two of the nurses' chairs to face each other.

"Ok, Dr. Breall," he said in a sing-song voice. "Why don't you have a seat and update me on Miss Lilton's condition?" He sat down and quickly motioned for the doctor to sit in the other chair.

Dr. Breall licked his lips nervously and took his place in the chair. "It looks like… it looks like she does have hypothermia, which is a serious condition but she is conscious - it's likely she'll come out of it. The pneumonia she likely has is more difficult - her age will work in her favor, and antibiotics should bring her around, but she is close to septicemia with how extensive the illness is… there are no guarantees in medicine…"

The Joker had the knife out in the next second, moving it from one hand to the other, feeling the blade with his fingertips. "You know, Dr. Breall, I'm very familiar with the outsides of bodies. I know exactly where to cut for a slow death or a quick one. I might make a great surgeon actually - you know, let's find out." The rage grew in his voice as he continued: "How about if she doesn't get better, I'll get those nurses over there to help me, and we'll cut you open so I can see how the insides work. Maybe I'll rearrange things a little. We'll do an experiment - we'll see how long you stay alive." He closed his mouth and opened it again, sucking his cheek to make a loud pop that was especially unsettling. "Got it?"

"Yes, got it," the man said, sitting up a little taller. The Joker motioned to him to get up by flicking the knife. The doctor began yelling orders to the nurses, running down the hallway to her hospital room.

The Joker, a slow smile beginning to appear on his face, walked down the hallway to the exit. He'd abandoned the helicopter, knowing the police would now be looking for it. He had a nondescript car waiting below that wouldn't be noticed in the mass exodus from the hospital.

Additional notes: Fun fact, I actually had pneumonia when I wrote some of the scenes from this part a couple of months ago. Fully recovered now!

This is fanfic, so of course I don't own any characters from The Dark Knight (Joker, Batman, etc.). The main female character is original.