#Process to Become a Seller

[thegembazaar]

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[acti-veg]

Leather vs. Pleather: 8 Myths Debunked

Since we are all beyond tired of seeing the same regurgitated leather posts every day, I've compiled and briefly debunked some of the most common myths peddled about leather and pleather… So hopefully we can all move on to talk about literally anything else.

1) Leather is not sustainable.

Approximately 85% of all leather (almost all leather you'll find in stores) is tanned using chromium. During the chrome tanning process, 40% of unused chromium salts are discharged in the final effluents, which makes it's way into waterways and poses a serious threat to wildlife and humans. There are also significant GHG emissions from the sheer amount of energy required to produce and tan leather.

Before we even get the cow's hide, you first need to get them to slaughter weight, which is a hugely resource-intensive process. Livestock accounts for 80% of all agricultural land use, and grazing land for cattle likely represents the majority of that figure. To produce 1 pound of beef (and the subsequent hide), 6-8 pounds of feed are required. An estimated 86% of the grain used to feed cattle is unfit for human consumption, but 14% alone represents enough food to feed millions of people. On top of that, one-third of the global water footprint of animal production is related to cattle alone. The leather industry uses greenwashing to promote leather as an eco-friendly material. Leather is often marketed as an eco-friendly product, for example, fashion brands often use the Leather Working Group (LWG) certificate to present their leather as sustainable. However, this certification (rather conveniently) does not include farm-level impacts, which constitute the majority of the negative environmental harm caused by leather.

2) Leather is not just a byproduct.

Some cows are raised speciifically for leather, but this a minority and usually represents the most expensive forms of leather. This does not mean that leather is just a waste product of beef and dairy, or that it is a completely incidental byproduct; it is more accurate to call leather a tertiary product of the beef and dairy industries. Hides used to fetch up to 50% of the total value of the carcass, this has dropped significantly since COVID-19 to only about 5-10%, but this is recovering, and still represents a significant profit margin. Globally, leather accounts for up to 26% of major slaughterhouses’ earnings. Leather is inextricably linked to the production of beef and dairy, and buying leather helps make the breeding, exploitation and slaughter of cows and steers a profitable enterprise.

3) Leather is not as biodegradable as you think.

Natural animal hides are biodegradable, and this is often the misleading way leather that sellers word it. "Cow hide is fully biodegradable" is absolutely true, it just purposely leaves out the fact that the tanning process means that the hide means that leather takes between 25 and 40 years to break down. Even the much-touted (despite it being a tiny portion of the market) vegetable-tanned leather is not readily biodegradable. Since leather is not recyclable either, most ends up incinerated, or at landfill. The end-of-life cycle and how it relates to sustainability is often massively overstated by leather sellers, when in fact, it is in the production process that most of the damage is done.

4) Leather is not humane.

The idea that leather represents some sort of morally neutral alternative to the evils of plastic is frankly laughable, at least to anyone who has done even a little bit of research into this exploitative and incredibly harmful industry. Cows, when properly cared for, can live more than fifteen years. However, most cows are usually slaughtered somewhere around 2-3 years old, and the softest leather, most luxurious leather comes from the hide of cows who are less than a year old. Some cows are not even born before they become victim to the industry. Estimates vary, but according to an EFSA report, on average 3% of dairy cows and 1.5 % of beef cattle, are in their third-trimester of pregnancy when they are slaughtered.

Slaughter procedures vary slightly by country, but a captive bolt pistol shot to the head followed by having their throats slit, while still alive, is standard industry practice. This represents the “best” a slaughtered cow can hope for, but many reports and videos exist that suggest that cows still being alive and conscious while being skinned or dismembered on the production line is not uncommon, some of these reports come from slaughterhouse workers themselves.

5) Leather often involves human exploitation.

The chemicals used to tan leather, and the toxic water that is a byproduct of tanning, affect workers as well as the environment; illness and death due to toxic tanning chemicals is extremely common. Workers across the sector have significantly higher morbidity, largely due to respiratory diseases linked to the chemicals used in the tanning process. Exposure to chromium (for workers and local communities), pentachlorophenol and other toxic pollutants increase the risk of dermatitis, ulcer nasal septum perforation and lung cancer.

Open Democracies report for the Child Labour Action Research Programme shows that there is a startlingly high prevalence of the worst forms of child labour across the entire leather supply chain. Children as young as seven have been found in thousands of small businesses processing leather. This problem is endemic throughout multiple countries supplying the global leather market.

6) Pleather is not a ‘vegan thing’.

Plastic clothing is ubiquitous in fast fashion, and it certainly wasn’t invented for vegans. Plastic leather jackets have been around since before anyone even knew what the word vegan meant, marketing department have begun describing it as ‘vegan leather’ but it’s really no more a vegan thing than polyester is. Most people who wear pleather are not vegan, they just can’t afford to buy cow’s leather, which remains extremely expensive compared to comparable fabrics.

It is striking how anti-vegans consistently talk about how ‘not everyone can afford to eat plant-based’ and criticise vegans for advocating for veganism on that basis, yet none of them seem to mind criticisms directed at people for wearing a far cheaper alternative than leather. You can obviously both be vegan and reduce plastic (as we all should), but vegans wear plastic clothing for the same reason everyone else does: It is cheaper.

7) Plastic is not the only alternative.

When engaging in criticism of pleather, the favourite tactic seems to be drawing a false dilemma where we pretend the only options are plastic and leather. Of course, this is a transparent attempt to draw the debate on lines favourable to advocates of leather, by omitting the fact that you can quite easily just buy neither one.

Alternatives include denim, hemp, cork, fiber, mushroom fiber, cotton, linen, bamboo, recycled plastic, and pinatex, to name a few. There are exceptions in professions like welding, where an alternative can be difficult to source, but nobody needs a jacket, shoes or a bag that looks like leather. For most of us, leather is a luxury item that doesn’t even need to be replaced at all.

8) Leather is not uniquely long-lasting.

The longevity of leather is really the only thing it has going for it, environmentally speaking. Replacing an item less often means fewer purchases, and will likely have a lower environmental impact than one you have to replace regularly. Leather is not unique in this respect, however, and the idea that it is, is mostly just effective marketing.

As your parents will tell you, a well-made denim jacket can last a lifetime. Hemp and bamboo can both last for decades, as can cork and pinatex. Even cotton and linen can last for many years when items are looked after well. While some materials are more hard wearing than others, how long an item will last is mostly the result of how well made the product is and how well it is maintained, not whether or not the item is leather.

[alleyesony0u]

okay so piggybacking off my last post talking about the dehumanization aspect of becoming the champion. i have finally processed the evbo is god thing now and have thoughts. because evbo was so excited to be at the top, to have taken down the evil champion that he didn't even realize what he had lost. and now evbo has lost so much. he had lost the old man, then he lost his master friend who was teetering on the edge of death, and though he hated seawatt something must have rewired in his brain when he watched the parkour villain kill him, then it was all the noobs and all the pros, and then the house seller who he said was his friend. so when evbo finally encountered the parkour villain that final time, he had lost so much of what was keeping him human -- the people he hated, the people he loved, and the people who kept him going in his hardest moments. so he was unafraid to jump into the void, because he had lost all that and then, well, he was going to lose that race. he had lost himself. it was no wonder he became the parkour god. everything keeping him barely human that he had been clinging onto, whether he knew it or not, had been lost. evbo is still evbo, but he lost that innocence, that simplicity of being utterly, horribly human. evbo lost and so evbo became.

[mollbabe]

celebrating palestinian science

in the face of israels' targetting of scholars, scientists and intellectuals...

saw a tumblr post by @/anarchistfrogposting that got me heavythinking about the relevance of language and culture in chemistry and science, it's unfortunate english has been accepted as its' lingua franca and most other input is lost to the globalization of this change. formulae and structure are essential and in a subject so specific, the average chemist will need to memorize hundreds of chemistry-specific words, and it becomes a barrier past entry when direct translating gets murky. deconstructing the history of science will always lead to political waters as the politicization of science and populist anti-intellectualism ethos rooted itself since the beginning of the study and these implicit biases result in a lack of consensus amongst borders.

before wwi the geographical spread of language in science was much more diverse, a lot of french and german researchers were common in research publishing, but after the allies established new scientific institutions that excluded germans and the isolationist decades that followed suit, foreign-language education was reductionist and excised globally as a result of elitism, being a language considered spoken only 'by the educated'. english-language proficiency is undeniably a prerequisite when an inexaggerated count of 99% of natural science papers are published in english, starting since 2015. this is a /heavily/ debated and discoursed topic and is terribly intimidating to sink your teeth into because of globalization of english and the complexity of modern language but getting over this hurdle will blossom a culturally rich rabbit hole to go down and it is all super interesting. there is so much great palestinian scientific practices, not as in western scientists work imagined in palestinian hands, but palestinian-born theories and practices. i think it's really integral, to always, but especially during times like these to uplift the people of palestine and their beauty just as much as funnel hatred toward their oppressors and murderers.

==

[image ID: a lineup of various glass pots and vases, ranging in color and size, placed in front of a plain background. end]

this is a specific sort of glass called 'hebron glass' which is an extremely renowned palestinian practice and passed down traditionally through multiple families and businesses. dating back as far as the 100~s in BCE, their technique of glassblowing was far ahead of their time and not used commonly anywhere else until much further in BCE. the /exact/ practice of hebron glass is kept a family secret amongst palestinian businesses, but a metal tool called 'kammasha' is used to blow the glass. a palestinian artisan talks about the process in more length here, i would recommend doing extended reading directly from palestine:

the colors are so vibrant and beautiful, i am endlessly impressed by how elegant these pieces have been made since the middle ages. these pieces and techniques have inspired a lot of famous modern day forms of glassblowing and glass artistry, most notably the venetian glass of venice.

i include this under science as much as it is art because it often goes unseen how much temperature and calculation goes into this craft. its highly skilled and intense work to bend over the hot flames and handle the glass in such a vulnerable state that could easily shatter. the material is more than 1800F and the palestinian kammasha is very carefully timed.

==

[image ID: an online video call meeting titled 'School on Synchrotron Light Sources and their Applications' at the top. end]

what you're looking at right now is the SESAME initiative run by the international centre for theoretical physics. a famous alumnus of this school was sufyan tayeh, a palestinian scientist. he was a prominent researcher and mentor and advocate for international understanding through science, introducing: SESAME, an alternative vision for the future of peaceful coexistence and cooperation and offered a meeting point around the globe to speak the common language of science, making communication possible. sufyan tayeh was an inspiration and bridge builder for all of these young students and an entry point for future scientists. he was a winner of multiple awards for his contributions to science and was appointed chair man for UNESCO (united nations educational, scientific and cultural organization) and head of physical, astrophysical and space sciences in palestine. he was regarded as a leading researched in science and applied mathematics globally, and tragically was killed in the current genocide. this is one case of many, many palestinian researchers. the impact of their contributions are insurmountable and irreplaceable.

==

[image ID: a list documenting the 45 palestinian scholars killed by israel since october 7th: Sufian Tayeh, Mohammad Eid Shubair, Omar Ferwana, Taysir Ibrahim, Ibrahim Hamed, Naeim Baroud, Azou Afana, Mohammad Bakhit, Mahmoud Abu Daf, Salem Abu Mukhda, Mohammad Abu Asaad, Osama Al-Muzayni, Refaat Al-Areer, Wael Al-Zard, Ismail Abu Saada, Khaled Al-Ramlawi, Mohammad Al-Najjar, Saeed Al-Dahshan, Raed Qudura, Mohammad Abu Zour, Yousseff Jameh Salameh, Nidaa Afana, Moumen Shweidah, Saeed Al-Zabdeh, Saqid Nasaar, Ahmed Abu Saada, Mohammad Jameel Al-Zaaneen, Ismail Al-Ghamari, Razq Ali Arouq, Walid Al-Amoudi, Abdullah Al-Amoudi, Hassan Al-Radi, Mohammand Abu Amara, Mohammad Al-Louh, Khaled Al-Najjar, Sharif Al-Asli, Mohammad Hassouneh, Yassar Hdeib Ridwan, Jihad Al-Baz, Hazem Al-Jamali, Nasser Al-Yafaoui, and Jihad Al-Masri. end]

==

the fabric gauze was also invented in palestine. if you've ever stepped foot in a labratory, you will know what this is lol. used in surgery and in chemical labs for multiple functions: separating liquids and gases, strain acids from bases, filter substances at extreme temperatures, prevent contamination, and to treat water. it is also used to diffuse heat and help protect glassware, seriously, these guys influence in glassware was HUGE. i think glass would still be sand without palestinian input.

i've set this post just up as a basis summary of the sciences, i would love to give an add-on going more indepth into the scientific process of some examples i gave and also in the history of palestinian scholars listed above.. when i get the time! but i hope this was an apt introduction! may good things come in 2024. feel free to recommend things i should check out or correct. OH OH also there is a lot of palestinian sci-fi.. 'divine intervention' and 'the second war of the dog' are both good, iirc they won the international prize for arabic fiction. just random things i found while looking up things for this post haha but they're good

[happilychee]

how good I think fairy tail characters are at traveling pt. 1

♡ gray fullbuster -> he's calm and reliable; he'll check the route before the trip and always have a map on hand to make sure you're going the right way. overall a 9/10 experience. -1 point because he doesn't make time to stop and look at trinkets >:(

*this is if you're traveling just with him though. if you add basically anyone else, including natsu, cana, loke, or lucy, gray will become completely distracted and you might never get to your destination.

♡ erza scarlet -> she'll get you to your destination. you might obtain life-altering trauma, bury a body, and become a local eldtritch legend, but you will get to your destination. 8/10 if you don't mind coming out of the experience Changed.

♡ mirajane strauss -> this can go one of two ways. if you're with other people, mira goes into Big Sister Mode, and you will get to your destination with minimal shenanigans. she does factor in Trinket Time, so overall a 10/10 experience. if it's just mira, though, prepare to go on a spiritual rollercoaster. no plans, no tickets, no maps, just vibes. mira likes to explore new towns and cities without worrying about a schedule or keeping track of other people. she has disappeared for a week straight to just wander around fiore. it's about the journey, not the destination, y'know?

♡ lucy heartfilia -> this poor girl isn't directionally challenged but she is financially challenged. will accidentally spend your train money on a cute necklace in whatever town you're stopping in. she's a good travel companion, willing to socialize with the locals and find out the best sight-seeing and restaurant spots. allocates a bit too much time for Trinkets. you'll probably arrive at your destination with empty pockets but full hearts (and shopping bags.) a 7.5/10, could be higher or lower depending on how much you value your wallet.

♡ natsu dragneel -> just give up. if he doesn't scoop you up in his arms as happy flies the two of you in the completely wrong direction, natsu's probably wandering off without you. gets distracted by everything: food, shiny objects, bickering people. you're working double time to get to your destination in one piece AND not lose natsu in the process. a 4/10 that can be upgraded to a 6 or 7 if you buy him a fire-resistant leash backpack.

♡ sting eucliffe -> surprisingly, he's the one coordinating your trip. all cheery smiles and lighthearted jokes, he makes it look easy. you don't even know what train you're getting on or how long the ride is, you just trust sting. he's charming everyone: the train conductor, the old ladies at the market stalls, the young ticket seller at the station. all of that completely disappears once you get on the train and sting is reduced to a nauseous puddle of dragon slayer. 10/10 experience as long as he doesn't throw up on you <2

♡ gajeel levy and pantherlily -> where's gajeel? you don't know. he was supposed to be at the station half an hour ago, he won't answer his lacrima, he's gone off the map. don't worry, though, levy and pantherlily will keep you company. 2/10 for gajeel. the worst part is, he shows up at your destination before you! he didn't even take the train or fly with lily! he's just... there somehow.

[thedensworld]

Sweet Truth | C.Sc

Pairing: gangster!Seungcheol x reader (ft. detective!Mingyu)

Genre: angst, fluff, action

Summary: The relationship become unstable and lot of things happened. It's time for truth to be revealed

Read Sweets Macaroons for the reference.

Seungcheol's head spun with dizziness as he tried to process the sudden turn of events. The revelation that one of his trusted people was actually a cop, spying on his every move, sent shockwaves through his organization. Now, they were forced to retreat and hide in a secretive location, while the authorities scoured Seoul in search of him.

Amidst the chaos and danger, Seungcheol's thoughts were torn. On one hand, he had to ensure the safety of his people, protect his organization from crumbling under the weight of betrayal. On the other hand, tonight was his anniversary with his girlfriend, you. He had promised to be there, to celebrate your love together.

But as the pressure mounted and the stakes grew higher, he realized that fulfilling both promises seemed impossible. His heart ached with the weight of responsibility, torn between loyalty to his people and love for you. He wanted nothing more than to be by your side, to hold you close and forget about the dangers lurking in the shadows. Yet, the reality of their situation loomed large, forcing him to make difficult decisions.

Seungcheol found himself holed up in their secret sanctuary with Jeonghan and a handful of trusted allies, their presence providing a thin veil of security in the midst of uncertainty. With only a burner phone in hand, he refrained from reaching out to you, knowing the danger it could pose if the authorities traced any connection between you and him. His heart weighed heavy with concern for your safety, yet he couldn't risk putting you in harm's way.

He trusted Jun to check on you, knowing that you would likely still be at your bakery, preparing to close for the night. Jun, once a trusted member of your staff, had been tasked with a different mission—keeping you safe without your knowledge. After you discovered this, Seungcheol had swiftly ordered him to cease all surveillance on you and resign from his position. It was a bitter pill to swallow, realizing that he couldn't get any updates anymore about your daily activities.

For four agonizing months, Seungcheol had been living in the shadows, cut off from any information about you except what you shared directly with him. The void of not knowing gnawed at him day and night, tormenting him with thoughts of your safety and well-being. His life had become a constant dance with danger, ever since the fateful transaction with the Chinese drug seller that had put him squarely in the crosshairs of the law.

The constant threat of being hunted by the authorities cast a dark shadow over every aspect of his existence, tainting even his most cherished moments with you. Gone were the days of carefree meetings and stolen kisses. Now, every interaction was tinged with the heavy weight of survival, as Seungcheol remained on high alert, vigilant against any sign of danger that might threaten both himself and you.

The once vibrant connection between you now felt strained, suffocated by the secrecy and paranoia that enveloped his world. Seungcheol longed to hold you close, to share in the simple joys of your love without the looming specter of his illicit industry hanging over them. But deep down, he knew that exposing you to his dangerous world was a risk he could never justify. The thought of putting you in harm's way was unbearable, and so he kept you at arm's length, shielding you from the darkness that consumed him, even as it tore him apart inside.

"Hyung, Jun has sent an update about Y/n," Jeonghan said, passing Seungcheol his tablet so he could read the message for himself. Seungcheol's breath caught in his throat as he scanned Jun's message. It hinted that you might be returning home earlier than usual, prompting Jun to head to your apartment. Frustration twisted his features as he absorbed the information, a knot of anxiety forming in his chest.

The thought of you potentially arriving home earlier, expecting to find him waiting there, sent a pang of guilt coursing through Seungcheol. He cursed under his breath, torn between the desire to see you and the fear of putting you in harm's way. With each passing moment, the weight of his double life pressed down on him, suffocating him with the knowledge that his actions could endanger the person he loved most.

As he awaited further updates from Jun, Seungcheol couldn't shake the gnawing sense of unease that gripped him, knowing that every decision he made could have devastating consequences for both himself and you. As Seungcheol and Jeonghan calmly discussed their next strategy, a sudden interruption shattered the peace—a phone call from Jun. Seungcheol's heart leaped into his throat as he swiftly abandoned the conversation and answered the call.

His eyes widened in shock as he listened intently to Jun's words, every syllable sending a jolt of adrenaline coursing through his veins. "Kim Mingyu took her," Jun's voice crackled over the line, each word striking Seungcheol like a physical blow. He felt his muscles tense involuntarily as the gravity of the situation sank in. Mingyu, a rival in their world, was not to be underestimated, and the thought of him having you in his grasp sent a chill down Seungcheol's spine.

With a sense of urgency gripping him, Seungcheol rose from his seat, his mind racing as he processed Jun's report. Mingyu's actions threatened not only you but also the delicate balance of power within their underworld. As he listened to Jun's account of the events unfolding, Seungcheol's emotions roiled within him—a potent mix of fear, anger, and determination.

In that moment, everything else faded into the background as Seungcheol's sole focus became the safety of the person he loved. With a steely resolve hardening his features, he knew that he would stop at nothing to ensure your return, even if it meant facing off against his most dangerous adversaries.

"Kim Mingyu, the stupid cop!" Seungcheol's voice seethed with anger, his fists clenching at the mention of his rival's name. The audacity of Mingyu's actions, resorting to kidnapping to further his agenda, ignited a fierce determination within Seungcheol. "So this is how he wants to play the game? By kidnapping her?" Seungcheol's words dripped with disdain, his mind already calculating his next move. Mingyu had chosen the wrong opponent, Seungcheol vowed silently to himself, his resolve hardening with each passing second.

Seungcheol's heart plummeted as Jeonghan's phone rang, the sudden intrusion breaking the tense silence that hung in the air. With a sense of foreboding, he watched as Jeonghan's expression shifted from confusion to alarm upon seeing the caller ID.

"It's Mingyu," Jeonghan announced, his voice tight with apprehension as he answered the call. Seungcheol's grip tightened on the edge of the table, his knuckles white with tension as he waited for Jeonghan to relay the message.

The air seemed to grow heavy as Jeonghan's eyes widened in shock, his breath catching in his throat as he listened to the voice on the other end of the line. Seungcheol's heart pounded in his chest, the anticipation of Mingyu's words gnawing at him like a relentless predator.

"What does he want?" Seungcheol demanded, his voice edged with thinly veiled hostility as he leaned in closer, desperate for any shred of information.

Jeonghan's hand trembled slightly as he held the phone to his ear, his brow furrowed in concentration as he strained to make out the words. Suddenly, his eyes widened in horror as he held the phone out for Seungcheol to see.

"It's a picture," Jeonghan whispered, his voice barely above a whisper as he turned the screen to face Seungcheol. The color drained from Seungcheol's face as he stared at the image displayed on the screen—a chilling snapshot of you, lying unconscious in the back of a car, your face pale and lifeless.

The world seemed to tilt on its axis as Seungcheol processed the sight before him. Mingyu's sinister message was clear—your safety hung in the balance, a pawn in his twisted game of cat and mouse.

A surge of fury coursed through Seungcheol's veins as he clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms with barely restrained rage. Mingyu had crossed a line, and there would be hell to pay for his audacity.

"Where is he?" Seungcheol's voice was low and dangerous, his eyes blazing with a fiery intensity as he fixed his gaze on Jeonghan. Every fiber of his being screamed for retribution, for swift and merciless justice to be served.

Jeonghan swallowed hard, his own expression mirroring Seungcheol's steely resolve. "He didn't say," he replied, his voice tinged with frustration as he relayed Mingyu's cryptic message.

Seungcheol's jaw clenched as he processed the information, his mind racing with possibilities. Mingyu may have thought he held the upper hand, but Seungcheol was not one to be underestimated. He would stop at nothing to ensure your safe return, even if it meant facing off against his most formidable adversary yet.

With a sense of grim determination, Seungcheol knew that the time for waiting and hesitation was over. Mingyu had made his move, and now it was Seungcheol's turn to play the game. And this time, he would play to win, no matter the cost.

*

You are innocent, that's what Seungcheol needed Mingyu to know. As his mind divided into two, his people and you, Jeonghan approached him with urgent news – Mingyu was on the line. Seungcheol wasted no time, seizing the phone and pressing it to his ear, the weight of impending danger bearing down on him.

A scream, muffled yet unmistakable, pierced through the phone, seizing Seungcheol's heart in a vise-like grip. Mingyu's laughter followed, chilling and sinister, as he issued his ultimatum: "Come to me or I kill her."

Seungcheol's eyes squeezed shut in anguish as he uttered his defiant response, his voice trembling with a mixture of fear and resolve. "No police should harm an innocent citizen."

Mingyu's laughter grew more derisive, his taunts cutting deeper with each cruel word. "She dated you, Seungcheol. How can you be so sure she's innocent?"

Seungcheol's jaw clenched, his resolve hardening as he fired back, "She doesn't know anything about my job."

But Mingyu's retort was swift and cutting, a cold reminder of the tangled web of deceit they were ensnared in. "Oh, she may not know now," Mingyu sneered, "but she'll lead you straight to me soon enough."

A desperate cry tore through the phone, your voice echoing with terror and pleading. "No! Don't come find me!"

Seungcheol's heart clenched at the sound, a swell of guilt and anguish washing over him. What had Mingyu told you about him? Had he already poisoned your mind against him with his lies?

As doubt gnawed at his resolve, Seungcheol knew one thing for certain – he would stop at nothing to protect you, even if it meant confronting the darkest shadows of his past.

"Can I talk to her?" Seungcheol pleaded with Mingyu, desperation lacing his tone. Jeonghan, who watched the whole scene unfold, gasped in surprise. For the first time, he witnessed his formidable superior pleading to someone else.

"Seungcheol..." he heard you whimper his name breathlessly. "Don't you dare come to me..."

Seungcheol sighed heavily, his heart twisting with worry. "How can I not come to you? You're in danger, baby."

"I'll be fine," you said, but Seungcheol didn't buy it. He could hear the tremor in your voice, the underlying fear that threatened to consume you.

"Kim Mingyu..." Seungcheol's words were cut off as the phone call abruptly ended. Kim Mingyu was a menace, a ruthless cop who stopped at nothing to achieve his goals. Seungcheol knew that all too well.

Mingyu's vendetta against Seungcheol stemmed from one simple fact – Seungcheol held a crucial piece of evidence, a file that exposed Mingyu's ties to the Russian organization, Klinok. This organization was notorious for its involvement in drug trafficking and human exploitation, and Mingyu would go to any lengths to protect his secrets.

Seungcheol clenched his fists, frustration simmering beneath the surface. Mingyu's interference threatened not only his own safety but also yours, dragging you into a dangerous game neither of you asked to play.

As Seungcheol paced the room, his mind raced with thoughts of how to outmaneuver Mingyu and protect you from harm. But with Mingyu holding all the cards, Seungcheol knew he had to tread carefully.

Jeonghan watched his superior with a mixture of concern and admiration. Despite the dire circumstances, Seungcheol remained steadfast in his determination to keep you safe. It was a side of Seungcheol that few had seen – vulnerable yet resolute, willing to risk everything for the person he loved.

With Mingyu's threat looming over them, Seungcheol knew that time was running out. He needed to find a way to outsmart Mingyu and rescue you from harm's way before it was too late. But as the minutes ticked by, the weight of uncertainty pressed down on him, threatening to crush his resolve.

"Jeonghan," Seungcheol called out, his voice tinged with urgency, "I need you to help me with a big favor."

Jeonghan turned to face Seungcheol, his expression reflecting a mix of curiosity and concern as he awaited further instruction. "What should I do?" he asked, ready to lend his support in whatever way necessary.

"I need you to handle everything," Seungcheol began, his tone grave and serious. "I need you to choose your assistants carefully."

Jeonghan's brow furrowed in confusion. "What?" he mumbled, struggling to comprehend the gravity of Seungcheol's request.

"I need you to cover for me," Seungcheol clarified, turning to face Jeonghan directly. "I can't do this anymore."

As the weight of Seungcheol's words settled over them, Jeonghan couldn't believe what he was hearing. Seungcheol, the formidable leader of their organization, was entrusting him with the responsibility of leading in his absence. It was a momentous decision, one that Jeonghan never anticipated.

"Seungcheol, are you sure about this?" Jeonghan asked, his voice filled with uncertainty. "I mean, I'm honored, but..."

Seungcheol placed a reassuring hand on Jeonghan's shoulder, his expression grave yet resolute. "I trust you, Jeonghan," he said firmly. "You have the strength and the wisdom to lead in my stead. I wouldn't ask this of you if I didn't believe in you."

Jeonghan felt a surge of emotion welling up inside him. To be entrusted with such a significant responsibility by someone he respected and admired meant more to him than words could express. He nodded, determination shining in his eyes.

"I won't let you down, Seungcheol," Jeonghan vowed, his voice filled with conviction. "I'll do whatever it takes to protect our organization and keep our people safe."

Seungcheol nodded, a small yet appreciative smile gracing his lips. "I know you will, Jeonghan," he said, his tone filled with confidence. "Now, go. Our people need you."

With a final nod of acknowledgment, Jeonghan turned and set off to fulfill the daunting task that lay ahead. As he stepped into his new role, he knew that he had big shoes to fill. But with Seungcheol's faith in him as his guiding light, Jeonghan was ready to rise to the challenge and lead their organization into a new era.

*

Seungcheol drove to the address Mingyu had sent him, his knuckles white as he gripped the steering wheel. He couldn't believe that a police officer could stoop to such despicable acts. Not that Seungcheol hadn't done his fair share of questionable deeds, but he had never crossed certain lines. Yet, here he was, forced to confront the dark reality of Mingyu's actions.

As he navigated the streets of Seoul, memories of his past deeds weighed heavily on Seungcheol's mind. He had never claimed to be a good person – far from it. But seeing you, with your unwavering love and adoration, had stirred something deep within him. It had made him question the path he had chosen, and whether he could ever truly leave behind the life of crime he had embraced for so long.

Before the chaos ensued, Seungcheol had been meticulously planning the organization's future, laying the groundwork for a smooth transition before he announced his retirement. It was a decision fueled not only by his desire to settle down with you but also by a newfound sense of responsibility and a longing for redemption.

As he neared the address Mingyu had provided, Seungcheol's heart raced with a mixture of anticipation and dread. He knew that confronting Mingyu would be dangerous, but he was willing to risk it all for the chance to rescue you from harm's way. With each passing moment, the weight of his decisions pressed down on him, threatening to consume him with doubt and uncertainty.

But as he pulled up to the designated location, determination hardened in Seungcheol's eyes. No matter the outcome, he would stop at nothing to ensure your safety and bring an end to Mingyu's reign of terror. With a deep breath, he stepped out of the car and prepared to face whatever lay ahead.

Seungcheol entered the old building, his senses on high alert as he scanned his surroundings. The dimly lit corridors were eerily quiet, save for the occasional creaking of floorboards beneath his feet. His heart pounded in his chest as he took in the sight of several unconscious bodies strewn across the floor, a chilling reminder of the danger that lurked within.

With each step he took, Seungcheol's worry for your safety intensified. He couldn't bear the thought of anything happening to you, not when you were so close, yet so far from his reach. Determination flared within him as he pushed forward, his mind focused solely on finding you and bringing you back to safety.

As he ascended the staircase to the floor above, the sound of voices grew louder, mingling with the unmistakable echoes of struggle and conflict. Seungcheol's instincts kicked into overdrive as he hastened his pace, his muscles tense with anticipation.

Seungcheol froze in his tracks, the sound of the gunshot echoing through the corridors like a thunderclap. Dread washed over him, threatening to paralyze him with fear as he contemplated the possibility of Mingyu harming you. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat a painful reminder of the stakes at hand.

For a moment, Seungcheol's mind raced with a million possibilities, each one more terrifying than the last. His breath caught in his throat as he braced himself for what he might find on the other side of that door. But amidst the chaos of his thoughts, one thing remained clear – he couldn't afford to hesitate. Not when your life hung in the balance.

With a steely resolve, Seungcheol pushed open the door, bracing himself for the unknown. But what greeted him was far from the worst nightmare he had imagined. Mingyu lay on the floor, wounded, while you stood beside him, gun in hand, your eyes reflecting a mixture of relief and urgency.

Beside you stood Seungkwan, your baker, his expression mirroring yours as he held his own weapon tightly. Seungcheol's mind reeled at the sight, trying to process the unexpected turn of events unfolding before him.

As your eyes met his, you wasted no time in rushing to his side, gripping his hand firmly and gesturing for him to follow. Seungcheol's confusion gave way to a deep sense of trust in you, and he followed your lead without hesitation, his instincts telling him that you knew what needed to be done.

"We're just gonna leave Seungkwan?" Seungcheol's voice trembled with uncertainty as he glanced back at the injured baker.

You nodded reassuringly, motioning for him to get into the car while you took the driver's seat. Seungcheol's mind was spinning with questions as he settled into the passenger seat. Since when could you drive? It was just one of the many revelations that tonight had brought.

As you drove with determination, Seungcheol's thoughts raced, trying to make sense of the whirlwind of events. How had you survived? How had you managed to shoot Mingyu? And why was Seungkwan there?

Lost in his thoughts, Seungcheol barely registered your voice as you spoke beside him. He turned to you, his eyes filled with a mixture of disbelief and concern. "You okay, baby?" you asked, your words cutting through the chaos in his mind.

Seungcheol was taken aback. Wasn't it supposed to be his line, reassuring you that everything would be okay now that he had saved you from Mingyu? But the roles seemed to have reversed, leaving him bewildered and uncertain.

You guided Seungcheol to a building, and he followed you inside, his senses on high alert. Once you were safely indoors, Seungcheol pulled you into his embrace, relief flooding through him as he held you close.

"I'm glad you're fine," he whispered, his voice barely above a murmur, feeling the tension drain from his body.

You chuckled softly, your breath warm against his chest. "Didn't I say it on the phone call that I'll be fine?" you murmured, tightening the hug as if to reassure him once more.

Seungcheol couldn't help but smile at your words, but his curiosity gnawed at him. "What happened?" he asked, his tone gentle yet demanding, a silent plea for the truth.

And as you began to explain, Seungcheol realized that he wasn't the only one with secrets.

*

"Welcome to Sweetie..." Your cheerful voice faded once you realized who had entered your shop. Your former superior, Hong Jisoo, and your colleague Seungkwan stood there, exuding an air of calm and collected confidence. It was clear from their composed demeanor that they had expected to find you here.

"It's been a long time, Agent Sweet," Director Hong said, smiling as he took a seat at one of the tables.

You were relieved that the shop was empty, with Jun out on an errand to the market, getting your weekly stock filled. The timing, at least, was fortunate.

You sighed, maintaining a polite smile. "Is there any sweet that you prefer? We have the viral Cromboloni here," you said, trying to keep up the pretense of normalcy, as if he wasn’t someone you had worked with for half of your life.

Seungkwan walked to the door and flipped the open sign to closed. You opened the drawer under the cashier machine, reaching for the box inside where your gun was stored. Jisoo cleared his throat and signaled Seungkwan to join him.

"Can we have two Americanos and two of those Cromboloni, please?" Jisoo asked, his tone deceptively casual.

You silently took your gun and tucked it into your apron pocket. Noting their order, you began to prepare the coffees and desserts. As you placed the desserts in the microwave, the reflection in the microwave's door showed Seungkwan moving towards you. Reacting instantly, you dropped the dessert, pulled out your gun, and pointed it directly at his forehead.

The sight made Jisoo smile with satisfaction. "Still got those instincts, Y/n," he remarked, standing up from his seat. He gently lowered your gun from Seungkwan's forehead. "Let's not make a mess. Your boyfriend wouldn't like it."

Your gaze shifted to Jisoo, eyes narrowing. "You've been tracking my boyfriend?"

Jisoo shrugged nonchalantly. "He's not exactly hard to find. A bit popular, isn't he?"

There was a pregnant silence before Jisoo finally confessed the true reason for their visit. "We want you to come back," he started. "Our team needs you. We’ve been in a state of emergency since you left."

You put your gun back into your pocket, then bent down to clean up the dessert you had dropped. "You’re the only person who knows why I’m not coming back, Director Hong," you said, your voice laced with frustration.

Jisoo sighed and gestured for Seungkwan to sit back at the table while he spoke to you. "Listen, Y/n, we all need you. The country needs you. You were in the field for 15 years. You’re the only one who can do this."

"Why? Why am I the only one?" you demanded, standing up and looking Jisoo directly in the eyes.

"Because you’re S.Coups's lover," Jisoo reasoned.

You sighed, "That's the exact reason I left this job," you whispered, ensuring Seungkwan couldn't overhear your conversation.

Two years ago, you were assigned to investigate Yoon Jeonghan, a man rumored to be running the largest illegal weapons industry. This bakery was a front, strategically placed near their operations. During your investigation, you discovered that Yoon Jeonghan was just a right-hand man. Then you met Seungcheol, who frequented your bakery a little too often. He asked for your number and managed to distract you from your mission. Soon, you learned that Yoon Jeonghan worked for Choi Seungcheol, the real S.Coups.

You were assigned to capture them, but you refused and left the job before officially dating Seungcheol. Despite leaving the agency, you sensed someone was still spying on you. Boo Seungkwan, your junior, had been watching you under Jisoo’s orders..

"We don't want S.Coups," Jisoo exclaimed. "We need Klinok." He began to explain, his voice grave. "Klinok has been taking over the industry for years, and if they get their hands on weapons, we'll be in big trouble."

"Klinok has been targeting S.Coups since earlier this year. We need to save him; he has the critical data we need to bring Klinok down."

You were baffled by the revelation. "Are you serious?" you asked Jisoo, your mind racing.

Jisoo nodded solemnly. "That's why I said you're the only one who can do this."

"Seungkwan will help you. He'll apply as a baker here. He's quite good at it," Jisoo added, glancing at Seungkwan.

Seungkwan scoffed, "Excuse me, I'm not 'quite good.' I'm very good at baking."

Jisoo chuckled before turning his focus back to you. "It's your choice, Y/n."

You stood there, weighing your options. The peaceful life you had carved out was slipping away, replaced by the dangerous world you had tried to leave behind. But if Seungcheol was in danger and you had the power to help, how could you refuse?

Taking a deep breath, you looked Jisoo in the eye. "Alright, I'll do it. But remember, Seungcheol's safety is my top priority."

Jisoo nodded, a look of relief washing over his face. "Understood. We'll do everything we can to protect him."

You glanced at Seungkwan, who gave you a reassuring nod. "Guess we're in this together, then," you said, a determined glint in your eye.

*

"Baby..." Seungcheol brushed a strand of hair away from your face as he listened to your explanation, his voice barely above a whisper. He struggled to process all the revelations. "So you knew I was hiding my work from you?" he asked, feeling a pang of guilt.

You nodded, reaching for his hand. "It's not like I wasn't hiding something either. So we're even," you said with a gentle smile, trying to ease his heavy heart.

He pulled you into his embrace again, rubbing your back and whispering, "I'm just glad you're okay. That could have been so dangerous, baby..."

You chuckled softly. "I've been doing this for half of my life, love. Danger is nothing new to me."

"Still," he insisted, "what if Mingyu had done something to you?"

You smiled at his concern and pecked his lips. "It was anticipated. Kim Mingyu has been working with Klinok for a long time, and he's been seen around my bakery this month. He was definitely trying to get to you by using me."

Seungcheol cupped your cheeks, rubbing them softly. He kissed your forehead with so much affection before pulling you into another embrace. "Thank you for saving me," he said, his voice filled with emotion. "And I'm sorry that I've been hiding all of this."

You held him tightly, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. "We're in this together now," you whispered. "No more secrets."

He nodded, resting his chin on your head. "No more secrets," he echoed, his voice resolute.

In that moment, despite the chaos and uncertainty, you both felt a sense of peace. You had each other, and that was all that mattered. Together, you could face anything.

Ring

"That must be Seungkwan," Seungcheol said, pulling away and ending the make-out session you were enjoying before the night could end.

You groaned and picked up the call. "Agent Sweet speaking," you answered, your tone clearly upset. Seungkwan could easily detect your annoyance.

"Klinok is on his way to the harbor. He expects Kim Mingyu in an hour. Let's catch him," Seungkwan informed you, and you immediately ended the call.

"I'm sorry, baby. But work is calling," you mumbled while buttoning up your shirt and ensuring you had your weapon and necessary gear.

Seungcheol watched you from the couch, a smile playing on his lips. "You look hot like this," he remarked.

You smiled back, "Baby," you called him, "I look hot whether I'm wearing an apron or carrying a gun." You leaned in and kissed him on the lips.

"I'll be back. Wait for me, okay?" you said, your voice filled with determination and affection.

Seungcheol nodded, his eyes filled with pride and concern. "Be careful," he whispered, knowing that you were about to step into a dangerous situation, but also knowing that there was no one more capable than you.

[drarryspecificrecs]

2024.02  ~ Top 6 longest fics posted on AO3

1. The Stag and the Dragon: The School of Witchcraft and Wizardry by Jesse_James [T, 180k]

►On the night of October 31st 1980, in an attempt to subvert prophecy, The Dark Lord Voldemort launches a pair of attacks to rid him of the one chosen to defeat him. But when one fails, the world is changed forever. But in this universe, things are different. The rules are not always the same. And things will not always be as we remember. And with a different choice made with a young orphaned Harry's future, the consequences of this one act will echo across fate. /// Meanwhile, in a different family, another boy struggles against what he is, and what he was born to be. All while his father seems to orchestrate more than just his life.

2. Empty Spaces by nori_mari [T, 125k]

►What do you do when everything you know comes to an end? The battle is over, Voldemort's gone, everything they ever wanted has come to pass. So why is it so hard to return to a “normal” life? How does one simply pick up the pieces and move on? When your entire life and identity have revolved around this one thing for so long… what do you do you have left of yourself when that one thing is over?

3. Papa Needs Daddy's Help by @amillionregrets [E, 94k]

►Harry's life revolves entirely around work these days, and he's deeply engrossed in it, as usual, when an urgent fire-call from Ron abruptly turns his world upside down. Apparently, a four-year-old girl with emerald eyes and long black hair has shown up at Ron's shop, claiming to be Harry's daughter and seeking his help to save her papa.

4. The Boy from the Piano Shop by @soliblomst [M, 90k]  *typo

►After going blind in a reckless attempt to avenge Ginny's death, Harry battles with severe depression. One day, he stumbles upon a quaint piano restoration shop in the heart of London and meets the owner, a kindly old man, and his introverted young apprentice, whose voice sounds strangely familiar. As Harry and Draco slowly reconnect through private piano lessons, the small workshop becomes Harry's refuge, offering him a glimmer of hope in a world without eyes.

5. An Addendum For Depressed Authors by @queenie-jinny [E, 86k]

►‘The Misadventures of Harrison Portier’ six-part book series by J.E.P has been on the Daily Prophet’s best sellers list for 177 weeks straight, despite the author’s insistent anonymity and continuing avoidance of the public eye. After a long hiatus, the elusive final novel in the septology is about to hit the shelves, and Draco Malfoy, avid reader of the series and self-proclaimed number one fan (a proclamation he’d made to absolutely none save for himself), is determined to be the first person to read it. When the epilogue of the book leaves much to be desired, Draco has no choice but to take matters into his own hands. Thus begins a stormy correspondence that threatens to disrupt Harry’s hard-earned peaceful routine and maybe change his life in the process.

6. Draco's Splendid Decisions by @jocundasykes [E, 69k]

►Stuck in the doldrums of a rubbish summer holiday, an unexpected invitation beckons you back to the halls of Hogwarts for an eighth year. Should you go, and endure another round of academia? Dive into the mundane drudgery of work? Or escape it all with an international getaway? /// You're a free man. What happens next is up to you.

—

※ Word count: 1k ~ 10k

※ Word count: 10k ~ 40k

alive is a color you don't own by sectumsempra [E, 15k]

armstrong limit by @brosamigos [E, 11k]

Crossed Wires by @skeptiquewrites [E, 11k]

Enclosed is a Memory by Anonymous [M, 12k]

I'll Find You Again (I Always Do) by @dodgerkedavra [E, 15k]

The Month of Giving by Justlikewriting [M, 20k]

Nobody Except For You by @mistsound [T, 10k]

Oh, Overwhelming Passion and Seduction by AtelierOfStories [E, 19k]

These Old Feelings by Reloumi [E, 24k]

Time to indulge by @onehundredflamingos [E, 10k]

Until Now by crpage [T, 11k]

Warm Touch Makes No Sound by @rainjulyx [E, 13k]

—

Ongoing Fest/Exchange

※ Fics would be listed elsewhere.

Frottage Cottage WFAUFF Challenge

Knot Another Writing Fest: Knot Again 2023 | @hpknotfest

[amurih]

Fuck it ima put it out anyway.

COTL AU where instead of staying in the cult Narinder leaves and builds his own little plot of land that becomes a rare occurrence you find while crusading through the different biomes post game.

Like it starts off when the lamb like spares Narinder and he’s like sent to the cult. And is in such a state of shock and bewilderment of what just happened that he doesn’t really know that the lamb is setting up their wedding until he’s at the alter. And he just SNAPS. To trade one prison for another? And to be stuck with the same being that not only took your crown, but your title as the god of death as your jailer? No thank you. Proceeds to walk out while the service is still going.

(I’m not the kind of person to think that he would be murdering or plotting to kill the lamb at every turn or possibly. No I would think that Narinder is smart enough to realize that he cannot fight the lamb in the condition that he is reduced to.)

Anyway, I want Narinder to experience life post-godhood by himself outside the cult. Maybe progressing over time you see how his plot of land develops into a pretty nice home for himself complete with a garden and an actual building/house. Not a hut, but an actual house.

All the while the lamb is going through it. It’s normal game play like one would post Narinder fight. Lore, upgrades, reviving the bishops, mystic seller, etc. All the while experiencing the highs and lows of ascension. I think the lamb would ask the other bishops once they get indoctrinated of how they went through their ascensions went. Only they would tell them that each went through theirs differently, so in the end it wasn’t really helpful.

So going through a process that you have no idea how to get through and the only person who does has fuck off into the land and hates your guts. Really fucking sucks man. So they try to “catch” Narinder while out crusading. Only they don’t find him physically, they find his place of residence while he is away.

I thought of a way to incorporate the quests that Narinder gives you when he is usually established in the cult. Could still be used: like there’s a book left on a table where you could peak in and see what’s going on with the cat that is currently away from his house.

“ I should head to Darkwoods and see if I can find more materials to build that fence and make more paper. Moving materials from one abandon home stead to this place has been challenging enough. My arms hurt after years of being bound to one position for so long...I wonder if camellias still bloom there now that Leshy is gone? If not I’ll have to develop a new alternative for this persistent strain and sharp pains I keep having. Got to get these walls up before it starts raining.”

“Bah! There’s not enough food at the last abandoned settlement let alone seeds. It’ll take long of a walk all the way to smuggler’s cove just to see if that sea louse got any thing. And it hasn’t been that long since the depletion of fish at pilgrim’s passage. I would have just stuck to what vegetables and berries I’ve got growing, but some animal or heratic keeps getting into my garden and stealing my food!when I find the person or thing that is stealing from me I’m going to make them into my fertilizer. In the meantime I should look into Anura and see if those foul mushrooms are still there. If I remember they are just as foul as Hecket when she would screamed about being hungry during dinner…Those should hold me over until I get this unwanted pest under control.”

“The wind and rain coming in through the holes on the side of the house that I use to see if any heretics come to kill me, has gotten too much. I’m tired of having to clean up the puddles of water that enters the home. And the curtains don’t do much in terms of trying to block both of these elements.That stupid squid Kallamar doesn’t need his crystals now that he’s gone. It didn’t help him when trying to hide from me. I’ll go to Anchordeep tomorrow and get some to make crystal windows. They sure would make it more beautiful than their temple…”

“Finally the loom is ready. It’s been a such a long time since I had decent robes. It’s easy to find cotton, but what I really want is a nice, soft, silk robe. One that doesn’t rub against these scars preferably. I miss the old one Shamura they made with their silk. But, that one got destroyed in the fight with that damn vessel. Maybe there is some in Silk Cradle. ”

(I’ll come back to this when I flesh it out more via work time daydreams)

[irisintheafterglow]

alright @mididoodles since you're so determined to absolutely annihilate my psyche every time you press post, here's wonderwall hockey player!satoru x skater!reader

it couldn't be that bad to go a little later to the rink, right? right?

wrong, so very wrong.

on top of sleeping through your alarm, you couldn't find your skate guards after you carelessly tossed them on your desk the night prior. you ended up having to wrench them from your dog, nearly dropping your car keys in the trash in the process. by the time you were through the double doors and shivering against the frigid air, someone's already occupied your usual timeslot. sure, it was a free skate before doors officially opened, but years of going to the same rink established that you were the one on the ice at the asscrack of dawn. the ticket sellers knew it, the zamboni drivers knew it, even other skaters knew that you had first claim. everyone was aware of your seniority, it seemed, except for the lanky hockey player swinging pucks into a net on the far side of the ice. you lace up your skates and pray for him to leave, grimacing when he doesn't and hopping onto the rink anyway. if he hit you with a puck, the lawsuit would certainly pay for your next program's costume.

you tune him out the best you can and try to ignore the way his muscles stretch against his compression long sleeve, something much too light to be wearing for a typical hockey player. you don't skate close enough to see his face, but the corded muscle on his back was enough to have your face heating. his hair was nearly the same color as the ice, and he flipped it back every so often to get it out of his face. in another world where you weren't sharing the rink with him, you'd have found yourself with a little crush on him. the music in your earbuds isn't enough, however, to drown out the sound of the stick hitting the puck over and over and over again, not to mention the times when he misses the net and the puck ricochets off the walls of the rink. your jumps become messier than usual, as are your spins, and you can only accredit it to the other occupant of the rink. after barely a few minutes of trying to share and run through your drills without using half your space, you give up and make to leave. you'd just have to come back tomorrow and hope he wasn't there.

"hey, wait! i was just leaving," a vaguely familiar voice calls to your back. it's melodic and incredibly confident, borderline arrogant. "sorry i stole your spot; i have a game tonight and i wanted to get some extra practice goals in before class." the crunch of skates sprinting across the ice and power-sliding to a halt floats into your ears and you look at the perpetrator from the corner of your eye, turning fully to look at him when your brain clicks into place who he is. "oh, shit!"

"satoru?" he mirrors the surprise in your tone, throwing his head to the side with a lopsided smile as he states your name tenderly. "oh my god, what are you doing here?" your mouth breaks into a grin, grateful to be free from the scowl you were wearing a few minutes prior. your eyes flick down to his lips as his tongue runs absentmindedly over a sparkling canine.

"i had to come in a little earlier than i usually do; i didn't know that it's during the time you're here. it's really good to see you," he says warmly and you feel your face warm. "you went pro, yeah?" you nod, casually leaning a shoulder against the plexiglass walls of the rink. he crosses his toned arms across his chest and you fight the urge to stare. it's rude to ogle the arms of your childhood crush turned hot hockey player bad boy, you scold yourself. "how's that going?"

"mmm, i just got back from russia a few weeks ago. holiday intensives and such."

"wow, that's incredible. not like i'm surprised, though. you were always the best skater in our group."

"not true. i had to use you as a walker a few times when we were first starting out," you remind him and he laughs at the memory. "you made me hold your hand while i shimmied around the perimeter."

"and you asked if i was born with skates on my feet, i remember."

"how's suguru?"

"he's great. he's usually here with me but i couldn't drag him out of his house this early in the morning."

"in true suguru fashion, really," you joke. you feel like you're seven again, staring up at satoru's bright blue eyes absolutely lovestruck. he still makes you feel butterflies, even over a decade later. "you said you had a game later?"

"yeah, here at 6:00. you should come if you're free. watch me kick ass on the ice for old time's sake."

"i'll do my best. i'm meeting a new ballet teacher who's coaching us on musicality later this afternoon."

"i don't know what any of those words mean," he states plainly and you snort. "i never understood your world."

"and i never understood yours," you confess. "yet, here we are."

"here we are, indeed," he murmurs, looking at you with an expression you've never seen on his face before. it has your heart racing like an idiot. "well, i'll let you have your rink back. thanks for letting me borrow it." he carefully steps past you and heads for the benches, throwing back his snowy hair in a way that has you gripping the edge of the wall for stability. it takes all of your willpower to keep your voice from shaking.

"i'd say come use it anytime, but i am very protective of my timeslot." he sends you a smile over his shoulder. holy shit, were his shoulders always that broad? and was he always that tall? was he always this fucking hot?

"i'll respect it, though i might pop in to watch you skate. you're mesmerizing, you know?"

"careful, any more sweet words and i'll think you have a crush on me." the words slip from your mouth faster than you can stop them and he looks at you curiously, and you'd be lying if you said he didn't look amused at your jab. you'd learned to flirt from him, after all.

when he's slipped out of his skates and re-approached you, you're barely tall enough to look him in the eyes. "it was good to see you," he murmurs.

"feeling's mutual." he's close enough that you can smell his shampoo and you resist the urge to touch his undercut.

"i missed you." his three words have you feeling weak in the knees and slightly breathless. "a lot." despite the chill, you feel your palms start to sweat.

"i missed you too."

"keep your eyes on me tonight?" you roll your eyes at his familiar, comforting self-assurance.

"like i would look at anyone else." his eyes are sparkling and time seems to slow down to a honey-covered crawl. "what number should i be watching?" he cracks a mischievous smirk, shrugging and walking to the exit. you're speechless on the ice until he turns back a final time.

to tell you that his number is your birthday.

I CALL WRITING THE GAME I'M GONNA WRITE THE GAME I WANNA WRITE THE GAME SOON I JUST FEEL SO AWKWARD WRITING WITHOUT ANY FIRST MEET/CONTEXT

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[dharmafox]

WAIT. THOUGHT.

This just kind of ambushed me on waking up, so forgive any incoherency.

@purplealmonds You noticed the moth pattern on the Nusu watch, which is also on the inside of his medicine chest, and you said that Nusu could be "the moth to Kusu's butterfly," and that both moths and butterflies represented the souls of the living and the dead.

In "Umi Bozu," Kayo asks the Medicine Seller if ayakashi are the ghosts of dead people. Genyousai said that some are. And the Medicine Sellers definitely seem to be ayakashi; at least, they sure look like it. They definitely aren't just human guys.

I could never quite work out how Kusu might be the ghost of a dead person, but now we know things we didn't. Nakamura-san talked in the latest video about how one becomes a Medicine Seller when they're given a god's sword and effectively told, "Hey, you're a Medicine Seller now." And the new lore page said that the "seat of the collected selves" from which the Medicine Sellers originate is the place from which all things are born and to which all return. It's where you go when you die and it's where you return from when you're born.

So maybe that's when one becomes a Medicine Seller—when they die. A human (or multiple humans? something to get into later) might die and travel back to the "seat" where life and death meet, meet a god and be granted the sword, and then be born back into the world as a Medicine Seller.

In effect, when they were humans, they were in a chrysalis, and when they die and are reborn, they hatch into moths and butterflies. I said a bit in this post about this birth and death process being equivalent to transformation, which is also symbolized by moths and butterflies.

I also talked a little about wells as portals between places or worlds. (I thought of another anime yesterday that uses this metaphor: Haibane Renmei, which in particular implies that the well is a passageway between life and death.) And wells are central to both Medicine Sellers' first stories.

The implication might be that in these initial stories, the Medicine Sellers themselves were just born into the world—or reborn, for the first time, as a Medicine Sellers.

(There also seems to be more than just an implication that the mononoke in both these stories were also born from the wells, which raises some interesting questions about just how closely the appearance of the Medicine Sellers and the emergence of the mononoke are linked.)

[crazyforclones]

Good omens swapped:

Aziraphale: Aziraphale hates the term demon, he prefers to be called a “fallen Angel” if he is needed to be referred to at all. He spends his existence in complete sorrow, which is represented in his nightingale companion which follows him everywhere. She does not sing, for the female nightingales are mute. He spends his time obsessing over trying to one day be holy once more. This can often lead him to extreme measures taken. Destroying himself in the process. It’s not that he wants to go back to heaven, he just wants to figure out who he is, to be good, that’s all he ever wanted to be after all, good.

Aziraphales fall came from multiple instances of right intention, wrong action. After meeting the Angel Raphael and hearing his intriguing questions, Aziraphale voiced them in his own ways. While Raphael was much more careful about his “radical” Ideas, Aziraphale saw no issue in bringing up these questions. Being a cherub, most shrugged him off or found him annoying, until he was assigned to the garden of Eden. There, Aziraphale became curious about the apple tree God had told the humans not to eat from. They were off limits to humans, but surely not angels? In his sporadic Inquiry, he took a bite from the apple tree. Finding the taste astonishing, he offered Eve an apple as she passed by. For surely he should share the delicious creation God had made? Soon realizing his mistakes, he frantically offered his flaming sword to the couple, hoping this act could redeem his sin. He was wrong.

With all of the mistakes Aziraphale made, he was casts from heaven, and became fallen. His eyes “bleed” tar like tears in the presence of other demons(or when he is emotional), as if his body is reminding him of his fate. He became incredibly emotional after the fall, and often times his emotions become uncontrollable. This is especially the case in his specific job.. which is punishing sinners. For that’s the best thing a demon can do that heaven will not.

Raphael: Raphael can only be explained as quite an extraordinary and unusual Angel. His opinions and questions he asks carefully will often lead to quiet some debate. While most angels found him a sprain in their wing, Raphael simply was too important to send off. And the Angel knew this. He did not agree with heaven in all terms, especially when it came to how things ran. This lead him to try and separate and distance himself from his responsibilities, not like they ever checked anyway. So he spent most his time on earth running a green shop and meeting with his odd friend, the old book shop seller across the road.

Raphael doesn’t think heaven is as cracked up as it is supposed to be, and he tries desperately to convince Aziraphale the same. He sees how destructive heavens ideals were to Aziraphale’s mind, and saw how torturous it was to reside in hell. But despite his many times offering azirpahale a life outside of heaven and hell, he is often rejected. Raphael feels responsible for a part of Aziraphales fall. Putting all these ideas and questions into him that were his own. He knows the only reason he hasn’t fallen as well is because of his status, and feels a heavy guilt when it comes to that. So In return, he tries to do his part in protecting Aziraphale.. from himself and the destructive mindset he was manipulated into.

So sorry this is so long they’ve been on my brain for days! Anyway, hope you like my take on the role reverse au that the fandom has created! I’ve had fun thinking up new ideas, but I can’t take credit for all of them, @sabellart helped me a lot in coming up with ideas especially for Aziraphale!

[j0kers-light]

His Lighthouse: Family Ties (LedgerJoker x f!reader)

Family Ties

series summary:

Y/n is an aspiring writer living in Gotham City and struggling to find her next muse. Her recent novel is getting all the buzz, earning her far more attention than she signed up for. But when a chance encounter results in her nursing The Joker back to health, will she find the time to write another best seller or will her own story become front page of the Gotham Gazette?

chapter summary:

After Joker surprises you with a not so happy trip back home, you are stuck stressing over family and the severed ties you left behind in Blüdhaven. Will Joker make do on his word and show you exactly how much he cares, or will this be another disaster in the making?

authors note:

I am never doing back to back chapters ever again do you hear me?! UGH! This was one of the hardest chapters for me to write (to date) I started over twelve times! We're not gonna talk about why it took me a month to write this, just know I am posting this in a new time zone. So it might be late (?) early? Who knows. I hope you enjoy! Chaos will see you in a week! 🖤✨

taglist:

@blackreaderatrisk @twinkledinkle @clemdango04 @l3ejm @tears-of-amber @what-an-angel @darthjokerisyourfather @thatsnoteii @dollster @cheetahspy @kaidennnnn @urdariingdoll @motivation-idontknowher @ins0mniac-whack @spaghettificationandpretzels @reneisance @alittlesmartcookie @ninacutebee16 @carydorse @jaysmentalspace @she-could-never @that--thing @clowning—around @lovesunnyandmary @lostinherownworld3785 @ilovetoomanymen @wolfofluna @apocalypticwafflekitten @heathisbae @lilmaravilla

Let me know if you wish to be added to the official His Lighthouse taglist! Be alerted with any oneshots and the main story updates! 🖤✨

Last Chapter | Next Chapter

The calm before the storm brought forth a sense of trepidation that drove you up the wall.

'I can show you better than I can tell ya Y/n. Watch me.'

Joker's words consumed your every thought. Surely, he would prove his point in some terrifying way, to show that he cared; you just hated waiting.

You kept an eye out for any headlining news and was ever vigilant while out and about for any catastrophic events but... crickets. There was no activity from your dark clown.

At first you were relieved. Joker didn't initiate an all-out war with the Bicchieri's. You rejoiced that nothing bad had gone awry at Vincent's funeral although you secretly wished something had. It was a televised event, even the mayor showed up to pay respects to such a quote, 'respectable family.' They were far from it and the notion that they were made you sick.

Why couldn't a fire break out, or maybe a random gas leak? You hoped for anything to turn the memorial service into a state of pandemonium.

Then you felt guilty. Wishing for violence wasn't progressive for your healing process. You were trying to move on and forget, not to dwell on the past and seek revenge.

Why couldn't Joker understand that?

At the time you thought he did, hence the radio silence; however, that scenario was far from the truth. Joker was in fact making big moves; you were just too blind to see them—to no fault of your own.

Joker kept a great divide between you and his line of work. You knew who he was and saw the aftermath of his horrible deeds. That was about it. Joker censored you from everything else.

He wanted you blissfully unaware of his operations, in fact; he preferred it that way. Joker dropped you off at home expecting your parents to distract you, and they performed well, minus taking you to Vincent's restaurant.

You weren't supposed to see any of that, and Joker wouldn't make the same mistake again. He'd keep a better eye on you from now on.

It was good to be home. You hadn't visited since you officially moved out and Mom and Dad were over the moon with your stay. They showered you with attention and kept the atmosphere at home cozy. They didn't pressure you to stay longer and they most definitely weren't kicking you out. Time seemed to cease in the confines of your childhood home. You quickly regressed back into your old routine, as if you never left. Yet something was missing.

It was almost criminal with how long you've neglected your pride and joy: your hair.

After a trip to the local beauty supply store, you and Ma returned home and got settled in the living room with packs of braiding hair and junk food. The plan was simple and it didn't take long.

You watched tv as your mother braided your hair. Every now and then you would feed her pieces of hair over your shoulder, and she would accidentally tug too hard and jerk your head backwards; however, it was a motion you were used to. Your body simply followed the motion.

In between parting hair and munching on snacks, gossip was shared to pass the time. It was a lively affair; one that you missed dearly. Nothing could ever compare to the feeling of your mother doing your hair. She braided neatly, creating five large cornrows within a matter of hours.

"Ah I miss this, Y/n/n." Mama sighed.

She was tending to the hot kettle as you stared at the tv screen. The afternoon news was on informing the people about current events. You didn't hear Joker being mentioned so you tuned it out. It was literally background noise.

You hugged your knees to your chest when mom ordered you to tilt your head back. The rising steam scalded your neck, but it was vital for the ends of your braids to stay secure. You felt like a kid again waiting for her to finish the task. She locked eyes with you and smiled, "Almost done, sweetheart."

At that moment there was a knock at the door and both of you groaned.

The two of you were closest to the door since your father was upstairs getting ready for a night class.

Imagine your surprise when he announced that he was taking classes at the local uni in pursuit of a medical degree. Mama couldn't be prouder of her husband starting out as a simple janitor at the hospital and working up to a medical student in just a few short years.

"You're never too old to learn, Y/n." He stated.

You were proud of your dad. His life had done a complete one eighty from his days running the streets. Furthering his education was a pipe dream for him back in the day. It showed how just far he'd come. But back to the present.

Whoever was knocking on the front door wasn't letting up.

"I'll get it ma." You sighed while standing up. A shame you were trailing puddles of water on the floor. Not like your unexpected guest would give you time to grab a towel.

The knocks grew in intensity, and you called out to whoever had an attitude. "Bruh chill, I'm right here!" You yanked the door open and froze upon seeing your uncle standing on the stoop.

He took in your wet hair and your shocked expression. "Bella." He smirked. The honorific made you grimace. You were so far removed from the title; you chose not to acknowledge it.

"Uncle." You hurled back the empty title in the same lofty tone he created.

Tensions were high as you stared your kin down with disdain. An unstoppable force met an immovable object. He was not stepping a foot inside your home if you had any say in the matter.

Mama's voice floated from the living room to your ear, "Y/n? Who's at the door?"

Her voice put an end to the staring contest. You didn't want Uncle's bad vibes anywhere near your family. You had every right to speak on the household's behalf.

"No one important." You hollered back to mom.

You were about to close the door when Uncle blocked it with his foot. You glanced down, wishing he'd move. You had no reservations about breaking his foot with the door and he knew that.

But he escalated the situation by leaning into your personal space. You got a whiff of his expensive cologne. The smell hit your nostrils, forcing you to back away and he advanced forward triumphantly. "I happen to disagree, Y/n. I'm here to speak to your dad. Important family business 'n all. Hope you understand."

A wave of confusion danced across your features. What was Uncle D talking about? Dad wasn't with the order anymore, he had no reason to be here, let alone to talk about anything.

Just when you were singing praises for your dad's success, here comes the devil on your doorstep tempting him back into old habits. Dad was doing so good in life to risk it all and indulge your uncle and his mess. You stood your ground with an exaggerated eye roll.

"He's no longer affiliated so take the 'family business' and gone get!"

You hoped your words would make Uncle leave but alas, it seemed to only amuse your relative.

"Such a feisty little thing! I always admired that about you." Uncle laughed. "But it wasn't a suggestion." he growled. You gasped at the sudden change in the air. You had only seconds to react.

Both your parents rushed to the front door when they heard you yelp. They watched you try to close the door, but a strong force made that impossible. At this rate, you and your uncle would break the door if neither of you budged.

Mama gasped whereas your dad saw nothing but red and leapt into action. He nudged you into Mom's concerned arms so he could stare his sibling down.

Sparks flew between the two and the air was heavy with hostility. Dad's eyes were dark with storm clouds brewing. Uncle was simply amused. It was your dad who broke the silence.

"Perhaps you're gettin' forgetful in your old age. I told you to stay away from my family."

Mama shielded you further into the hallway. She knew things could get ugly between the two brothers and she prayed that a fight wouldn't start inside the house. The last time they talked, blood was spilt, and family ties were forever severed. Clearly Mama was reminiscing, judging by her troubled stare.

Uncle D just waved off the threatening words. "I can't. They're my family too [insert dad's name]. Especially Y/n. How old is she by the way? Early twenties are a great age to, let's say, take over the family—"

Your dad quickly cut him off. "Y/n ain't taking over s__t! Why you here?"

Your uncle sighed and glanced over at your mother. She was hesitant to lock eyes with him and even more so when he spoke directly to her. "C'mon [insert mother's name]. It's rude to leave a guest standing outside, no? Whatever happened to the Y/L/N's famous manners?"

You knew the veiled insult would rile mom up and she didn't disappoint with her clap back. "Manners, in a way, are akin to respect. It's earned, not given." She squeezed you tighter.

Uncle D finally caught on that your parents weren't with his foolery. He shook his head before coming clean.

"Like I said, I'm here on family business. Some big wigs are meddling in our operations. We're holding it down for now, but we'd fare better if we had two heads instead of one tackling the prob, ya know what I'm sayin?"

Your dad tensed up, "I ain't affiliated no more. Not my problem." He was about to slam the door in your uncle's face when the next words spoken shocked everyone.

"The Joker took Jr."

You and your mother's eyes widened. She was shocked that your cousin, (who was notorious for evading friend or foe) was captured.

You were short of passing out. Joker did what?

You didn't hear anything else after Mom and Dad ushered Uncle D inside. You made a mental reminder to sage the place once he left.

It was bizarre how dad's previous animosity with his brother dissipated after hearing the circumstances. Family was family after all so this could be an exception to their truce. The three of them sat in the living room to discuss things in detail, however you were still standing in the doorway, in the first stages of denial.

This was the major headline you were waiting for. Joker had gone insan(er) if your uncle's claim turned out to be true.

You never considered Joker targeting your own family. He must've been mistaken. Granted you and Darien Jr. shared the same unique last name, the world was a big place. Joker couldn't have known Jr. was your cousin. This had to be a mistake or at least a reason why he took him.

You headed towards the living room couch in a daze. Hopefully you could gain some insight before you blew things out of proportion.

You sat down across from your uncle. Your mother hardly looked your way as she poured the two brothers something to drink. Even in tense situations, (and amongst unwelcome company) she remained poised and hospitable.

Your uncle venomously disagreed with whatever was said prior to your arrival.

His authoritative voice echoed loudly in the living room. "No, this could be a warning. We should beef up security around Bella. Right now, she's next in line of succession."

That annoying title again. It was one that you never wanted. Why was dad entertaining this garbage in the first place? He hated the Order as much as you did.

Thankfully your mother spoke out against all of this. "My daughter is not getting involved with your.. your gang!" She cried.

Uncle D swatted the misunderstanding away like a gnat.

"It's not a gang. It's our family's ancient syndicate passed down from generations. Our blood right." Corrections made, he continued. "Anyways.. does she have any security measures? The Joker could come after her next."

Joker coming after you? Now that was rich. The mere thought made you laugh out loud and it caused everyone in the room to stare at you.

What were you thinking letting your emotions get the better of you? Now you were on the spot with no excuses for your blunder. You prepared yourself for Dad's scolding.

"This isn't funny, Y/n. The Joker is a psychopath. He's unpredictable with no regard for human life. If he catches you." Dad just shook his head. He didn't want to think about it.

Meanwhile, you were thinking about Joker hunting you down. It made for a fun roleplay scene. You hoped no one saw the tips of your ears turning red from your lustful thoughts. Mama eyed you sided ways when you bit your lip, smirking.

"No, she doesn't have any current protection but that changes tonight. I'll call a few old buddies and get something arranged."

Current protection? What was that supposed to mean? This was becoming too much for you to process.

You raised your hand for the adults in the room to notice. "Um, excuse me? Do I have a say in this? Mind you, I'm just visiting; I can just head on back to Gotham and—"

Uncle D immediately shot down that idea. "We can't protect you that far! You will stay here until this clown mess is handled."

He turned to resume brainstorming with your father, but you had plenty more to say. You and Uncle D were already on bad terms, but the way he talked down to you just now, made things worse.

You were talking back before you even realized it. "Whose daddy you think you is? I can go wherever I want, while you handle this 'clown mess."

Funny how he complimented your feisty attitude at the door but now it was a problem. It was evident he was losing patience given his eye roll and soft sigh.

"Brother, please, talk some sense into this girl. She's completely ignorant to the bounty on her head."

"What bounty?" Your mother interjected. She had finally emerged from the kitchen with proper snacks for everyone to munch on. The junk food the two of you bought was long forgotten.

She glanced around the room, hearing the danger her baby was subjected to. It was the first time your dad heard about this too, and he sat up straighter in his seat.

Uncle D knew this new information would sway your parents into helping so he painted a vivid picture of your dire straits back in Gotham.

"Your little author here acquired a bounty from Two Face and now that The Joker kidnapped Jr., I don't doubt for a second that he placed one on her head too." He snagged a cookie from the serving tray your mom brought and waited for the fallout.

The first wave of concern came from your mother. "Honey is this true?" She asked. You couldn't lie to her, especially when she looked a second away from having a fainting spell.

You cast an evil glare at your uncle. This was all his fault. You didn't want your parents to know how dangerous your living situation was back in Gotham City. There was no way to downplay the situation now that Uncle D aired out your dirty laundry.

You chose honesty as your primary defense. "Um.. my charity event got shot up by Two Face and his goons a while back. He's just confused about one of my fictional characters, whom he thinks deserves real life justice. It's no big deal." You winced when Dad facepalmed himself.

How could his baby be so naïve?

"It is a big deal. Two Face wanted you dead until he suffered a big loss in some warehouse accident. His gang is all but dissolved now and doesn't pose a threat. Our worry is The Joker." Uncle D stated. While he had the room's attention, he launched into a story.

"When your relationship with that Biccherri boy went south, so did our alliance with them. We lost our stronghold here in Blüdhaven. The Joker's been steppin' on our turf ever since."

You grit your teeth as he spoke so causally about that disgusting family. You had a longstanding grudge against your uncle for what he did, not like he seemed to care.

"Don't you see, Bella? The Joker wants to eliminate his street competition. These past few days, he's been tearing Blüdhaven apart like he's searching for something, or rather someone. Piece by piece he'll tear Mors Atra Lux apart to find it. First by killing Jr., then you, and lastly me. I just want you safe." Your uncle chided.

By the end of his monologue, your blood was boiling, and you could care less about his concern. It was all fake anyways.

You learned from the past. Everything your uncle did had an ulterior motive and you had enough of his cunning ploys. You had to smile to keep from bursting into tears.

"My memory is a bit foggy, but I thought we were expelled from the syndicate. How does any of this pertain to us again?" You asked the room.

"You are not expelled Bella, if anything we need you now more than ever!" Uncle Darien plead.

You slowly blinked in shock. The audacity of this man. The gall, the gumption. Your Haven accent made a rare appearance and set the tone. "Nah, you got me messed up if you think I'm finna help you."

Your mother reached for your arm, but you jerked it away. She gasped at your unexpected behavior. "Y/n! Your cousin's life is at stake!" She scolded.

"And? Was Jr. there for me when I needed him? No! In fact.. you forget that monster I'm forced to call Uncle practically arranged me and Ty together! Some uncle his is! But oh, he just wants me safe. Liar."

You wanted to slap the smirk right off Uncle D's face, but you weren't that petty. Not yet at least. You chose instead to sit quietly in anger lest your actions got the better of you.

Mom bowed her head, looking close to tears. "Y/n I.... I didn't know."

She sounded genuine but you knew dad had a small hand in the arrangement. He was still active within the Order at the time and promoting the doomed relationship was his greatest mistake.

The guilt was written all over his face.

He bowed his head as well. "Y/n, I will never forgive myself for the pain I put you through. I hope I've redeemed myself as a father." He sighed before looking you dead in the eye. "But I need to help another father redeem himself. Darien needs our help to save Jr."

The living room was quiet; no one dared to speak. Even your uncle chose not to comment during the intense father daughter staring contest.

You knew where your dad was coming from, (really you did) but it still hurt to see him side with his brother, the snake that he is. You forgave dad seventy times seven, but you would never forgive your uncle.

You nodded and mumbled something under your breath.

"What was that dear?" Your mom asked.

You ignored everyone calling your name in favor of storming upstairs to your room. If you had stayed any longer, they would've seen you crumble from the weight of your emotions.

Your palms were sweaty and you adopted a bad case of tunnel vision. That could only mean one thing, a panic attack. You wanted nothing more than to scream into the void of your room back in Gotham; however, it was miles away.

And since you had no proper sanctuary to hide in, you had to settle for the next best thing.

Halfway across town and hidden in an abandoned warehouse, Joker was busy conducting business.

Frost had driven down from Gotham City to help his boss with the ongoing manhunt. This had been their biggest lead so far, so all hands were on deck to make it count.

The pair was standing in a room where a lone male was tied to a chair. Usually their hostages were too terrified to speak; this guy had plenty to say.

"F__k you, f__k him, and those lame shoes you sportin'. Both of y'all bugging on God. You caught me lacking and that's on me, but whatchu tryna get into my guy? I bet you ain't een about that life for real."

Joker nodded along as if he understood a single word the man said. It didn't help that his Blüdhaven accent was stronger than any superhero in the area. It made comprehension near impossible.

"RiiiiiiiighT. So! Darien—"

They guy had the audacity to cut Joker off. "Aht, it's Jr. Come correct."

The interruption made Joker swallow his ire before continuing. "Okay, jun~iorrrrrr. Here's the thing. I'm looking for someone annnd a little birdie told me that you might know where he isss."

"Cap."

Joker tilted his head and glanced at Frost for help.

The six-foot three man hardly looked up from his crossword puzzle, "It means you're lying." He had his daughter Gen to thank for being on top of current slang.

"I don't need a translator." J muttered under his breath. He secretly did, but that was beside the point. He turned his focus back on Jr. who rolled his eyes, all with a cocky smile.

He clearly had more to say. "F__k all dat bruh. You getting bent outta shape ova' a man ion even know."

"Hmm. I think that's err.. cap.. since I have pictures that prove other~wise." Joker held up a few photos in front of Jr. "See. That's you! And.... him." Joker growled.

He began tapping the photo until he poked a hole right through the face. Frost pointedly cleared his throat. It was enough to get Joker back on track.

Jr. snorted, completely unfazed. "Nah Blüd, that ain't me."

Joker cracked his neck with a sigh. Frost understood the signal and set aside his word puzzle. Finally! Things were about to get interesting.

"I'm ah, sorry, to hear that uh... Jr. because I—"

Joker's sentence was drowned out by the sound of his phone ringing.

He was still getting used to the new device you purchased for him, and he forgot to turn it on silent. Joker had at least changed the default ringtone to a theme song from your favorite tv show to distinguish that it was you calling.

The joyful tune cut through the tense air somehow getting louder. Jr. found the distraction hilarious. "D__n man, you got baby mama drama too?" He laughed when Joker's jaw clenched in irritation.

The ringing stopped for a moment until it started up again. "You gone answer that?" Jr. asked.

Joker didn't want to, but you were calling back to back.

It meant something was wrong and his Light took priority over work. He'd deal with his annoying hostage after checking on you. J sighed before fishing his phone out of his pocket.

He snapped his fingers, signaling Frost to take over before striding over to the door for some privacy. The second that J answered the phone, he heard you crying, and he was on instant alert.

"What's wrong, my Light?"

You sniffed hearing his voice. It provided little comfort, but it wasn't enough when you were this deep, swimming in anxiety.

It had been four days since he drove you down here to Blüdhaven. What was supposed to be a 'night you'd never forget', turned out to be one giant headache.

You were over and done with the nostalgia of your hometown and wanted some peace and quiet. "J... I-I want to go home."

You knew you caught Joker at a bad time judging by his heavy sigh. He didn't reply for a while and you began biting your lip.

"Stop that."

His response made you jump. "W-What? I'm not doing anything." You looked around your room, thinking Joker was secretly spying on you. You wouldn't put it past him if he was.

And like a weighted blanket, Joker's voice enveloped you.

"I know you. You bite your lip when you're uhh, stressed. That poor.. poor lip only I should be biting." You could practically hear his smirk over the phone. It caused one to bloom across your face.

"I'm a liT-tle busy right now, doll but when I'm done, I'll come get ya." He assured you.

You knew he would, but you still snorted lightly. "Too busy torturing my cousin to come see bout me?"

And now it was Joker's turn to question if you were spying on him. He tensed up and stole a glance at Jr. The idiot was trying to spark a conversation with Frost. Key word: try.

Was his intel team slacking that bad to not do an extensive background check before kidnapping people? Joker didn't see any family resemblance although that meant nothing when he had your word to go by.

"Repeat that, Bunny?" J asked. Maybe he heard you wrong. Perhaps the phone signal was bad in the warehouse, yet he heard you loud and clear.

"My Uncle came over claiming you took my cousin. Judging by your tone, I-I guess you did." It became quiet on your end and Joker inwardly cringed.

Good thing he didn't start torturing the poor sap yet.

If he had...he would've been in deeper trouble. How could he screw up this badly? You would hate him forever by hurting your family yet what you said next puzzled him.

"I... I don't care what you do to him, I-I just wanna go home, J."

Joker had to clarify that he was hearing this right. Something must've muddled with your ability to think properly. "Uh.. doll? Are ya sure you don't care?"

He knew you did, (his Bunny cared about everything and everyone with that bleeding heart of yours) but he focused on the bigger picture. Something had stressed you out to the point of a social burnout. No one stressed his Bunny out but him.

Joker remembered that you suffered social fatigue and the last burnout happened when you went to Atlanta with your friends. It seemed like you didn't do well with random bouts of travel.

His Light was mentally drained, and this time, it was all his fault.

He forced you to face your fears and travel back home. His overall plan to cheer you up had severely backfired and learning about your hometown had dug up more problems than it did in solving them.

Joker glanced across the room and locked eyes with your cousin. Speaking of problems...

Darien Jr. was already staring at the dark clown with a cocky smirk. This interrogation wasn't going nowhere. It was best to rule this as a technical loss and focus time and energy on you.

His curiosity would have to wait. You needed Joker now more than ever.

Joker swore under his breath before returning to your active phone call. "Uhh, doll. Do ya trust me?"

Hours had passed and your uncle had yet to leave and as a result, Dad missed his night class. Hopefully that wouldn't come back to bite him during finals.

You spent the remainder of your night brooding in your room, and against Joker's better judgement, biting your lip raw.

Your hour long phone call with J was rather... interesting.

He tried to lighten your mood by cracking morbid jokes as you packed what little things you accumulated during your stay at home. Everything fit into your old high school book bag that you found in your closet.

You weren't too keen on Joker's fascination with death but hearing his voice in your ear served its purpose. Slowly but surely, your tears dried and your dark clouds passed. For now.

With clearer skies ahead, it brought some clarity to the current situation.

Perhaps you had overreacted downstairs, but you weren't going to apologize to your uncle. If all went according to plan, you'd be on your way back to Gotham City and far away from the 'family business.'

You had enough problems in Gotham to worry about and it was time to head back and face them.

Joker kindly reminded you that everything you found back at your old apartment had already been dropped off at your penthouse in Gotham. Joker was amazing, always thinking twelve steps ahead of you and he proved his usefulness with his latest plan. He went on and on, ironing out the details into your ear as you packed. It was the first time you got to experience Joker's mind at work.

He was a mad genius. A brutal, tactical genius.

This plan of his would ensure everyone involved got what they wanted. Granted, it was a dangerous idea and could potentially expose Joker's relations with you if things went south. He was prepared for the fallout should he fail. He had every ounce of confidence that he wouldn't.

You and your happiness was always worth the risk in Joker's eyes. He assured you there was nothing for you to worry about.

Per his instructions, you snuck downstairs and placed your belongings inside the SUV's trunk; then it was time to set the stage. Your loud scream swiftly gained your dad and uncle's attention.

They found you on the stoop outside pointing at a letter lying on the stairs. "I came outside to get some air and saw that!"

They had little time to scold you about venturing outside alone, your uncle was more attentive to the mysterious letter. It was hastily written but the message was clear.

"They're letting Jr. go? That doesn't make any sense! How can we be sure this isn't a trap?" Your uncle wondered aloud.

He glared at the attached joker playing card before tossing it aside. You discreetly picked it up for safe keeping.

Your dad couldn't see over Darien's shoulder. He snatched the note away to read it more carefully. There had to be a loophole somewhere, however the letter itself was so vague.

You wondered if you scared your mother screaming the way you did but she had long since gone to bed, no longer wanting any part in any illegal activities. She suggested you stay out of quote, 'your dad's crazy family affairs', but you were already in too deep.

Ironically, you were about to single-handedly take care of this entire mess without their knowledge. You only hoped the two brothers would follow along according to plan.

Your uncle spoke up first.

"I don't care. If this is a chance to get Jr. back alive, then I'm taking it." Uncle D said. You glanced at your father when he finished reading the letter.

"What is it bro?" The question was aimed at your father, but he answered it while staring you dead in the eye. "Something ain't right. Why hand Jr. over after holding him for so long?"

You didn't like the pensive look in your father's eyes. It spelled nothing but trouble.

The three of you migrated back inside to the couch, where all of this began. You were nearly bouncing in your seat; praying they would stick to the script Joker drilled into your brain. The entire plan would fall apart if you weren't in attendance tonight.

"We should head out. The meetup spot is a bit ways off."

It didn't matter who said it, it was your cue to insert yourself back into the conversation. They hadn't said a thing about you tagging along and you began to panic. "Wait... aren't you taking me with you?" you blurted out.

The two brothers looked at you with unreadable expressions.

"Absolutely not! This is grown folks business." Your dad ordered.

You should've expected that response from your dad. Fortunately, he wasn't the one in charge here.

You turned towards your uncle, praying he would adhere to the letter's instructions. "Your father is right. It's too dangerous Bella." He nodded along with your father's decision.

This isn't what Joker planned, not at all, and your look of shock was genuine. Your brain couldn't even form a counterargument.

"W-What? But I... I have to! I m-mean, I can—!" Tears blurred your vision as you struggled to spit out a coherent sentence.

Now was not the time for your anxiety to get the better of you! You had an inner war with yourself, blissfully unaware of the silent conversation Uncle Darien had with his brother.

Your e/c eyes sparkled, somewhat hopeful when dad turned to address you. Maybe he had changed his mind. "No, Y/n and that's final." Your dad said.

Dad escorted you to your room while your uncle called a team who would be running temporary surveillance on the townhouse. Did they really fear Joker that much? You tried not to think of the horrors that Joker inflicted to instill this much fear into seasoned men.

You had nothing to fear when it came to Joker.

You and dad arrived at your bedroom door. "Please don't be angry with me, Y/n/n. I'm doing this to protect you." He reached out to cup your cheek but flinched when you slammed the door in his face instead.

The last thing you need in your fragile state was physical contact. And speaking of states of mind, the wall of pictures in your bedroom did little to quell it.

They were memories of a Y/n that would never be the same. Your mind was desperately trying to move on but your past was making that virtually impossible.

Joker was expecting you to be at the exchange tonight. He was a man of his word and promised to take you back home, but your father crushed that hope.

You fought back tears as you sat on your bed. What were you going to do now? It was too risky for Joker to pick you up here with the 'protection' Uncle D was arranging.

It would be impossible to sneak away once they arrived.

The wind was howling outside, and it rattled an annoying tree branch that always hit your window growing up. You begged dad to cut it—he never got around to it. The ancient tree tapped once more on your pane, almost in an inviting manner.

The wheels in your head began to turn with ideas.

Well past midnight when the house had gone still, two shadows snuck out the back door.

They nodded at the two gentlemen who would be keeping watch of the house and its small perimeter before headed towards the street.

Like its much larger sister city, Blüdhaven was a city that never slept. Distant sounds of sirens, the metro passing through the boroughs, and the occasional sound of tires screeching, set the scene for the night. It was abuzz with activity.

Uncle D was heading towards his parked car but was stopped by his brother slapping his arm.

"Nah. Let's take Y/n's wheels. Trust me, they won't expect us pulling up in that." He pointed to an SUV parked on the curb.

And your dad was right. The all-black vehicle blended perfectly with Blüdhaven's nighttime scene. He also smirked, knowing the wheels would make his brother jealous.

Uncle Darien whistled lowly, seeing the vehicle up close. It was sleek and obviously imported. He admired yours, (or was it Joker's) ride. "I gotta get me one of these." Your uncle stated.

"Yeah, good luck with that. I dunno how Y/n managed to afford it" Your dad unlocked the SUV and the two of them hopped inside.

Uncle D ooh and ahhed at the custom interior. "Oh yeah? How much you think this runs Bella? Think she'll sell?"

Your dad turned to face his sibling, "Why don't you respect Y/n's wishes first? She doesn't want anything to do with the syndicate so use her given name. Got it?"

Uncle D eyed his brother in awe. [Insert dad's name] spoke up for once.

Darien would never give up his crusade in you taking over. His son was a terrible heir. The belladonna, however, was the head and center of the Syndicate. Beautiful yet deadly, like the plant the order aptly derived from; you were the perfect fit to succeed him, but for now—he would abide by your 'wishes'.

He chuckled under his breath. "Got it."

Nothing else was said on the way to the rendezvous spot.

The SUV rolled to a stop in the empty warehouse lot. Tall, dark buildings with boarded up windows and doors surrounded the empty lot, giving it an eerie, closed off feeling from the busier street. Along with the fact it was past midnight, the whole encounter left an uneasy feeling in the air, but everyone involved wasn't afraid of a little darkness.

Blüdhaven was out of Batman's jurisdiction to pose as a threat and his sidekick, Nightwing had too much on his plate to be of any concern tonight.

Joker knew what he was doing selecting this area. He always considered the tiniest details and factored them into the final equation. He enjoyed a well-executed plan every now and then—and he did not want any witnesses tonight.

Your father parked the SUV and he and brother unbuckled their seat belts simultaneously. "We're the first ones here." Your dad grumbled.

"Teh, you think a freak like The Joker would be prompt? Just wait little brother, they'll come."

"Don't call me that." Your dad bit out. His older brother didn't pay the comment any mind.

Darien nodded towards the main entrance. "Here they go."

Another car rolled into the gravel parking lot kicking rocks and debris in the already foggy night, thirty minutes past the expected meeting time. The car came to a stop a few yards from your parked SUV and turned off its engine.

The headlights stayed on as the driver and passenger doors opened.

The newcomers (two men dressed in all black) walked to the back door and much to your uncle's relief, dragged his son out. Jr. had a sack over his head and his hands were bound behind him, but other than that, he seemed okay.

He was held captive by The Joker for almost four days. They were happy to see him alive.

Your dad checked his weapon one last time before taking a calming breath. "Let's go." He and Darien stepped out of the car to begin the negotiations.

You waited several minutes before poking your head up from out of the trunk area.

Neither your father nor uncle noticed that you were hiding back there. And they called themselves mercenaries. You rolled your eyes up to the panoramic sunroof.

The decision to climb out your bedroom window and hide in the SUV was a split decision that paid off well. Thank goodness Joker had a mind to tell you to hide your bag in here and a huge shoutout for your father in deciding to take your vehicle in the first place.

Everything simply worked out in your favor.

Well almost. You almost broke your leg climbing (falling) out of the backyard oak tree. It had been years since you performed the task, and your muscles protested the foreign experience.

It was mind boggling how out of shape you were during most tasks and a flexible goddess whenever you and Joker had sex.

God, you missed J... when was the last time you and him had some quality time together? Just thinking about Joker's skills in bed made your heart flutter.

Ah! Now was not the time to be distracted!

You made it to the meeting in one piece. All you had to do now was wait for Joker to show up.

The wagon's windows were tinted but you remained in your hiding spot just to be on the safe side. Joker didn't specify what would happen during this portion of the plan. You were blindly trusting J at this point. Not the best feeling in the world.

You failed to notice him amongst the group of men standing outside and found that odd since he stressed for you to be in attendance tonight.

If he wasn't here, then what was the point? The meeting itself appeared to be going well until you saw your uncle reach for his gun.

You gasped as everyone in attendance drew their weapons. Okay... now you were worried for an entirely different reason.

Your heart was racing as voices and tensions rose.

You could hear your uncle demanding Joker's goons to let his son go, as if they were listening. It was too dark to see, but you knew a shootout was imminent. You feared the worst until suddenly the door to the parked car ahead of yours swung open.

You weren't the only one caught off guard.

Everyone's attention turned towards the movement and for good reason. A head of green hair was seen poking out before standing up straight. You sighed in relief at the familiar hue.

Joker and his grand entrances. He was here after all.

However that relief was short-lived. The same dread that seized your senses back at Vincent's restaurant took hold of you tonight.

Joker in his element was truly a force to fear. All eyes were on him as he boldly sauntered into the fray. Joker ignored the guns trained on him and tossed a friendly arm over Darien Jr.'s shoulder. Your cousin didn't appreciate the contact.

"Good evening gentle~mennn. What seems to be the errr, problem?"

Hearing Joker's dark ominous voice made you duck down out of sight. It wasn't the flirty, reassuring tone that J used as he spoke to you over the phone.

The man who poked your cousin's cheek with a knife and laughed at your uncle's horrified face could not be the same lover whom you missed these past few days. Or was it?

There were so many sides to Joker and prior to this trip back home, you had turned a blind eye to his more violent persona. Granted it had always been there, he rarely allowed you to see it. Just because Joker shielded you from his line of work, it didn't change the fact he was still the nation's deadliest criminal.

The late night phone call the two of you had after he wreaked havoc in Vincent's restaurant was still fresh on your mind. Getting visual reminders of Joker's darker side was apparently still jarring. Seeing him as The Joker was a hard pill to swallow.

No one dared to move or speak and that seemed to irritate Joker.

He smacked his lips while glaring at the gathered crowd. He was quick to note that you weren't present.

Joker had to mask his concern as irritation. He crossed his fingers that you were patiently waiting inside the SUV. So what if there was a slight hiccup in his plan? He could work around this.

"That's strange. I thoughT we had a deaaaaaal. You get err, junior back... you give me intel." Joker scratched his head with the knife handle.

He made eye contact with your father who curled his lip back in disgust. "You uh read my letter, right?" Joker asked.

Your uncle spoke on his sibling's behalf. "It didn't say s__t about intel."

You were Joker's intel. He blinked a few times to avoid getting violent. It was official, you weren't here.

Joker played off his anger by punching one of his goons. "Hey. Did ya send the right note?"

They winced before whispering, "T-There was more than one?"

Back in the SUV, you wanted to facepalm yourself. What happened to the foolproof plan Joker bragged about over the phone? Nothing was not going as rehearsed!

No surprise, you weren't the only one getting frustrated by the whole ordeal. "I'm tired of playing games. Hand me my son now!" Your uncle shouted.

Joker made an uneasy noise. "Mm, I assure you, this is noT a game. How about we ahhh.. meet again, when you have what I want." Joker snapped his fingers, and his men were hauling Jr. back to the car.

"Ayyy yo! This some bull—" Jr. was cut off mid sentence and tossed back inside the car at the same time your dad and uncle sprang into action.

It all happened so fast; there was no time to react. You saw Joker pull out a gun and aim it at your family members. Shots rang out and you covered your mouth in horror. They both slumped to the ground, and Joker eyed them impassively.

He waved at the car holding your cousin to leave; and they peeled out the lot on two wheels. Only then, all was quiet.

Your heart was in your throat as you slid back into your hiding spot. A river of tears blurred the world around you. You struggled to process what you just saw. Joker didn't. He couldn't have.

The minutes ticked by in your state of shock. The gunshots still echoed in your head, five in total. He did. He really did. This couldn't be real!

The door of the SUV opened, and you heard someone calmly get inside and turn the vehicle on. You knew who it was, and my how your excitement to see Joker quickly morphed into fear.

It took seconds for his poker face to crumble.

His loud string of expletives made you flinch, especially when it sounded like he hit something inside the car. It clanged to the ground, most likely in pieces.

You were too scared to move when you heard Joker call out your name. There was no way he knew you were hiding in the trunk. You remained still, too afraid to move a muscle and give up your location.

Joker repeated himself over and over like a broken record in the quiet vehicle. Apparently your name acted as a sedative for him. Joker took deep calming breaths in between pronouncing the syllables of your name.

All the while, he mentally went over his original plan.

Joker planned for your uncle to receive the correct note where it clearly stated to bring you or else. Of course, they would, but instruct you to stay inside the SUV and not to make a sound. He would then trade your cousin for your shiny imported vehicle, knowing good and well you were inside.

Unfortunately, his goons were absolute idiots and sent the wrong negotiation letter. How, that didn't matter. If they hadn't screwed up, Joker would be driving you back to Gotham by now. Now he was alone without his Light. Again.

Hence why he was going awol in the driver's seat.

Joker would have to try and sneak you out of your family townhouse, which was another mission he would have to orchestrate on the fly.

He didn't trust anyone else to help since it was clear that his henchmen were idiots and could screw up something so simple as delivering a letter.

Separation anxiety was rearing its ugly head and being away from you was affecting Joker's decision-making skills. Add in the fact he hadn't slept well in these past days apart and boom.

Joker wasn't at his one hundred percent. He was looking forward to seeing you tonight to revert back to factory settings of sorts.

Never in his life did Joker imagine that he would miss someone. He was a loner—always have, always would be, until you came along. You introduced him to human interaction and got him addicted to you. You made Joker.... dare he say, normal.

Well as normal as slipping into a psychotic episode could be.

It was triggered all because he craved your presence. You truly were his strength and his greatest weakness.

There was no shame admitting that he was weak for you, but he had to know you were okay to feel whole again.

You weren't where he needed you to be, and that terrified him.

The dark confines of his mind were closing all around him and only you could drag him back into your blinding light and make everything okay. The voices in his head (which were normally only pro-violence) agreed that finding you took top priority. He could rage later.

Joker needed you and he'd burn Blüdhaven down to reach your side.

Somehow, he shifted gears and got the SUV out onto the street despite his troubled mind making his movements choppy. Under normal circumstances; he sucked at advanced technology but today, J navigated the car's display system like a pro.

"C'mon baby. Pick up. Pick uP. Pick. Up." Joker's mumbled while gripping the leather steering wheel.

You were still shell shocked, unable to process that Joker was calling you. And when your phone started to ring from the trunk, J slammed on the brakes. Your body collided with the side panel, and thus your cover was blown.

The pain snapped you out of your stupor and you were able to hear the driver's door slamming shut, along with heavy footsteps approaching the rear hatch.

You couldn't crawl over the second row of seats fast enough. The back door was yanked open and Joker was startled to see that you were trying to escape. He reached in to stop you and like a switch, your survival instincts kicked in.

The wool was yanked from over your eyes, and you saw Joker for what he really was. He didn't understand why you were fighting him.

"Let me go you murderer!" You screamed when Joker wrested you upright. His brief look of guilt encouraged you to fight harder.

A nearby streetlamp bathed Joker in a pool of light, and the harsh shadows from his scars made him look like the monster all of Gotham City declared him to be.

In under normal circumstances you saw Joker in a more positive light. There was goodness within him if someone had the time to gently coax it out, but tonight; you couldn't be bothered to try.

Right now, you were kicking and screaming while fighting back tears. You didn't want to believe what just happened was real.

He noticed your distress and backed off to give you some space. It was instinctual to check on your wellbeing. "Uh what's wrong?"

His level of nonchalance sent you into hysterics.

"How could you?!! Y-You.. you shot my dad! That's what's wrong! You don't think, you.. you promised!" The rest of your sentence was reduced to mere hiccups.

Joker rolled his eyes. That's what you were bent out of shape about? He thought you found out about something else he'd done.

Your family was fine, probably irritated and in pain, but relatively fine.

He bent down and gently guided your head to rest on his chest. You hated how quickly your body sagged into the offered comfort. Joker's natural scent of lighter fluid and spices seeped into your brain, causing it to temporarily shut down.

Despite wanting J far far away, your nails dug into his suit jacket to keep him close.

Joker didn't mind the tight grip. You were a tiny thing in the circle of his arms, (and he missed you terribly) even if you were ruining the moment with your misguided emotions. As you calmed down a bit, he used the time to take in every detail about you since he saw you last.

You were still his Goddess, tears and all, and during these days apart, you found the time to braid your hair all pretty. He missed you way too much and you felt that in his content sigh.

Time seemed to slow as Joker held you. Hugs from Joker were so rare and divine— reality seemed to fade away, but then you remembered why you were upset in the first place.

Joker and his web of evil deeds. He was too calm after gunning down your family members. He arched an eyebrow when you pushed him away.

The stretch of road he pulled off to the side of was empty and it looked like a no man's land. You were a Blüdhaven native, and still, you had no idea where you were.

Joker was by far the scariest thing out here yet it still gave you the creeps. A thick lining of trees bordered the one lane road to your far right and you eyed it intently. If you got a head start...

"Don't. Do. It." Joker warned you. He blocked your exit and sent daggers dipped in jade your way.

You hated yourself for falling under their spell. You were still inside the trunk with no traction whatsoever and Joker knew that. He would pluck you from the air before you hurt yourself trying to run.

You hated how he was so attuned to your safety even at a time like this. You were supposed to be mad at him, not swooning like a schoolgirl.

You refused to fold so easily.

You stood your ground and matched his stare with one of your own. It made Joker falter a bit. Seeing his bunny all steadfast like this was kinda hot but he needed to get his head out the gutter and address the situation properly.

Honesty was a better policy than trying to manipulate you.

"Yeah I shot your erm.. father. Y/n wait!" Joker shouted when you tried jumping out the SUV.

He was faster and restrained your body with ease. "SweethearT. Listen. To. Me." He held you down; mindful that you hated being cornered.

You didn't know it, but at any time you could've overpowered him. He didn't want to trigger your PTSD and make things worse. He eased up a bit and begged for you to understand. "They're fine, Y/n."

Joker knew you didn't believe him for a minute. J using nonlethal weapons? Yeah right. It sounded way too convenient.

He had to lay this on thick. "Y/n please. I did, I used rubber bullets. Frost will make sure they err.. get home safe. Ya gotta... well uh. You don't have to really.."

Joker leaned over you, blocking out all light in the area. Endless pools of green were all you could see, and pure desperation was swimming in its depths.

You always thought it strange how Joker's eyes had an unnatural glow to them. Tonight, they were almost hypnotic, sucking you in.

"You don't have to trust me, Y/n. I get it if ya don't." Joker patiently waited as the gears turned in your head.

He could see the uncertainty crossing your features as your e/c eyes darted from left to right. You had every right not to trust him and he would have to accept that reality if you didn't.

And that looked like a possibility.

You were a wary creature after your assault and because of it, trust was a big factor to you. Joker worked so hard to earn it and get to where he was today. You allowed him into your home, your bed, and one day, he wished to conquer your heart.

That looked like a hopeless dream now. You were a cornered animal, struggling to make sense of Joker's careless actions. He knew he screwed up big time and there wasn't much he could do to make it right.

He could only hope that you looked deep within your heart to forgive him. If not, then this could be it. He could lose you right here, right now, and that made him a desperate man.

Joker would never be the same no matter the outcome.

You didn't speak for a while as you let his words sink in. When Joker saw you slowly shake your head, all logic flew out the window. He couldn't lose you. He couldn't.

He dug into his coat pocket and fished out a gun. You flinched away from the sight of it.

"Shoot me." Joker said.

You were speechless and not the good kind. He wanted you to do what?! Joker was clinically insane, but this was sheer madness! You spoke your thoughts aloud. "H-Have you lost your mind?"

Not a second after Joker chuckled, "Yes." He smirked at your lackluster glare. "I can prove it's rubber. Here." He wrested the gun into your hands which were shaking like a leaf.

You knew how to handle one (your dad unfortunately drilled that info into your brain at an early age), but you still hated the feeling of cold steel in your hands. It was like greeting an old friend after years apart. You knew what to do but it didn't feel right. Foreign, just like the car you sat in.

Joker saw the hesitation in your eyes and tossed you a genuine smile. "Pretty girl... look. At. Me. You got this."

He guided your finger to waver over the trigger before stepping back. You noticed the safety was off and started to panic more. "J-Joker! I-I get it, they're rubber! You proved your point!"

Joker robbed you of a choice. His finger brushed against yours as he helped coil your finger around the trigger.

The loud bang made you scream and shut your eyes. You heard Joker grunt and fearing the worst, you dropped the gun. You dove forward patting him for any sources of blood but to your astonishment, Joker was laughing.

The rich sound dumped ice water on your nerves.

Joker was still standing, and he wasn't dead despite you aiming at his abdomen. He kept laughing while lifting up his clothes to reveal the impact area already turning a nasty shade of red.

"Oh my God, you're okay!" You started crying anew. Joker rolled his eyes at your hysterics and cradled your sobbing face.

"Shhh shhh stop cryin'... ya see Bunny? Rubber bullets. Do you believe me now?" Joker grinned when you furiously nodded your head. "Silly girl." He made a promise.

'I will never hurt you.'

Your tears vaporized the moment Joker bent down to kiss you. This is the version of Joker you missed. Sweet, overwhelming, and unequivocally, all yours.

The past few days you were bereft of Joker's addicting presence. Back in Gotham, it was just you and J for days on end huddled up in your penthouse with no distractions. You craved that pure intimacy the two of you created in the very beginning of this complex relationship.

Cooking for J and silent afternoons spent in your living room. The fervent touches under the sheets with only the moonlight bearing witness..

You missed him more than you realized.

The Joker you knew would never jeopardize his relations with you if it was within his power. He promised you twice that he would never hurt you and so far, his word reminded true. You kicked yourself for almost ruining things, all because you didn't have enough context.

Joker didn't kill your dad and uncle. They were okay, just like J was.

You repeated that sentence like a mantra in your head even as Joker stole your oxygen and flooded your brain with dopamine. His kisses were simply intoxicating.

He pulled back to let you breathe and he adored hearing your meek whine as he did so.

You pawed at his suit, all but tugging him inside the SUV. Joker took one look at the hazy gleam in your e/c eye and bam, he was a goner. You sucked him right into your orbit.

Nothing ever got past Joker.

He took pride studying everything Y/n L/n related like an attentive scholar, and he knew exactly what you wanted based off of your body language. He nodded and without a word, he crawled inside the SUV.

Much to your confusion, he proceeded to close the hatch after him. "J... what are you doing?"

The trunk door closed, trapping you inside with a silent Joker hovering above you. The hour had grown late, making it darker than before inside the cramped space. The close quarters sat heavy on your chest and Joker watched it heave in rapt interest.

He admired your old high school alumni T-shirt and the baggy cargo pants you wore although he would prefer if they were off of you instead.

Your eyes were wider than saucers watching Joker play with the drawstrings of your pants.

"Gimme a color." Joker asked out of the blue.

"Huh?"

You were a bit confused, and it was evident by your adorable head tilt. He slowly maneuvered your legs so they wrapped around his waist. You were already flat on your back, but you could tell Joker was seeking out your comfort.

Your long forgotten book bag was moved to serve as a pillow of sorts and once everything was to Joker's liking, he asked you again. "If you don't want this.. Give. Me. A. Color."

Then it clicked. The traffic system!

The tips of your ears flushed red. Joker wanted to do it in here? You gulped and glanced at your surroundings. There was some leg room now that Joker straddled you proper, but was it safe?

You never had sex in a car before much less in the trunk. How were you supposed to know if this was feasible? You had the split second idea to call Morgana for advice. If it was sexual in nature, she was an expert.

Joker hummed to himself and began removing his clothes while you mulled things over. He would never coerce you into anything you didn't want to do. You were in control here.

He was looking out the windows for any sign of danger when he finally heard you murmur, "Green."

Joker knew your natural curiosity would prevail.

He flashed you an easy smile. "The best one." With that said, Joker dove down and kissed you again, but this time, his hands were actively removing your clothes.

It wasn't fair that he was the only one naked. Well partially; he couldn't get his pants and shoes off all the way in the limited space.

He broke away from your lips so he could pull your shirt up and off your body. It was discarded somewhere towards the front of the SUV; Joker didn't care where. His current mission was tasting your lips again. You tasted like fruit flavored drinks and [insert favorite candy].

In essence, Joker was on cloud nine. He found your lips in the darkness with ease.

Curse him and his nighttime vision! You were left fumbling in the dark whereas he could see clearly. He used that to his advantage. Joker's hands were warm on your skin as he pushed your bra straps down.

"Don't tear it.." You warned Joker right as he tugged the cups down and sucked on your nipples. Your fingers instantly buried themselves into Joker's hair. He could rip all your bras to pieces if that was his goal.

The things Joker could get away with using that skilled tongue of his.

He swirled it around your areola before biting down hard enough to extract an airy moan from your lips. His emerald eyes flickered up to savor your reaction as he let go of one nipple to suckle on the other. His hands joined the fun and kneaded your breasts just the way you liked it.

It was incredible but you needed something else. You tried pushing Joker's head down south, he wouldn't budge. You turned to whining. "J.... Please.. I.."

He sighed before sitting back on his knees. You removed your bra (before he got the chance to tear it) and shivered when his hands finally slid down to your legs.

His Light was so desperate, it was so cute. "Shhhh be patient. I gotta ah, make sure, my girl is ready."

Joker rubbed soothing circles on your calves, and he clicked his tongue when you jumped at his touch. "See? I've neglected my Goddess for sooooo long, she's uh, shying away from me! Let's get errr re-acquaint-ed, mkay?"

Mind you that it had only been a few days; Joker had a point.

You bit your lip and ordered your body to cooperate with you here. Joker's touch wasn't malicious. You trusted his hands. You wanted this.

Still your leg jumped uncontrollably, kicking the wall as Joker untied your cargo pants. He just shook his head, wrestling them off your legs—although he eyed you through his long lashes when you inhaled sharply.

"You doin' alright, doll?" He noticed you concentrating too hard, all with a deep frown on your face. You were so stressed that you weren't enjoying the moment. That wouldn't do.

Joker arched an eyebrow when you didn't respond to his question, so he angled his thumb to rub gentle circles on your panty clad clit. "Listen to my voice, Y/n and breathe."

He heard your heavy sigh, and he reveled in your body shivering when his thumb stroked your sensitive nub harder. Your hand shot out and grabbed ahold of his forearm. Your eyes pleaded for more and he felt obligated to obey.

"I'm gonna take your panties off. That okay doll? Hm. They're soaked anyway.." Joker mumbled that last part more to himself but still, he waited for your shy okayto grace his eardrums.

Joker moved slowly so you could watch; he peeled your ruined panties off and shoved them into his pocket.

He gave you a cheeky wink when you noticed. "For later." He smiled. Next, Joker caressed your knees before parting them. "Ohhhhh Bunny..." He swore under his breath.

The sight of heaven between your thighs would never get old. Joker wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of his days worshipping his Light.

"Just look at her.. so juicy and sweet." Joker watched your juices trickle out of your pussy and make a mess of yourself.

He knew you tasted divine; how could he forget— yet he had to stop himself from diving right in. He didn't want to scare you since your emotions were all over the place tonight.

Joker wanted to take take take till you couldn't think any more, but that would be too much in your delicate situation.

One more sudden change of emotions and your brain would check out early. To remedy that, you needed soft touches and a steady flow of affirmations.

He forced his gaze away from your weeping center to meet your eyes. "I'm gonna treat ya right, Y/n. Will you let me to do that?"

Your firm nod gave Joker the green light to continue.

The road J parked on was secluded but it wouldn't remain that way forever. He needed to get a move on or waste this precious time with you.

He could worship you properly once he got you back in Gotham. Right now, Joker just needed his Light and you needed him.

With one last look outside the window, (nothing too concerning) Joker flipped you over so that you were perched atop of him. Your startled cry was adorable however it fizzled out into a moan when you felt Joker's stiff cock rutting against your folds. He rocked into you, gazing up at his Light in awe.

Just grinding on his cock felt amazing. "J..." you sighed out.

"Gimme a color sweet thing."

Your hips jerked violently after hearing the new endearment. That was a new addition to J's growing collection. Sweet thing. You kinda liked it.

Joker's dick was fully saturated with your juices by the time you moaned out your answer. He could hear how wet you were, it was music to his ears.

J's hands found a place on your hips, and you knew there would be bruises there by the end of the night. "Mm... I missed my Princess. Can I show you just. how. much?" He asked.

You were still nodding when Joker's leaking tip pushed past your entrance.

Joker watched as your face scrunched up in pleasure as inch after thick inch of his dick invaded your pussy. The feeling was incredible, and Joker failed to hold back his throaty groan about halfway in.

The sound of it sent liquid fire straight to your core.

You let your own moans spill freely from your lips. All of your senses became undone at the intense stretch you were experiencing, and it got better and better. It was so much all at once, Joker got his wish.

The last thoughts to dart across your brain were ones of doubt and disbelief.

When was the last time you and Joker had sex? Was he always this thick or was it just your mind exaggerating his length? But you felt each pulse and vein rubbing against your walls. There was no way you could make this up. He was splitting you in half!

The invasion seemed to be never-ending, and Joker's glowing eyes took in every expression you made as he continued to stuff you full.

Your pouty lips fell open in a silent moan and beads of sweat dotted your brow. Joker couldn't look away even if he tried. And why would he? The moonlight cut through the back window and blessed you with its celestial glow. You tipped your head back as if on command, giving Joker a view of a lifetime.

He was entranced by the Goddess straddling him. You were truly a work of art. Like a deity sent down to be his undoing.

And what a way to perish, set ablaze by your light.

You choked back a moan when you met resistance. Finally. Joker came to a rest, balls deep inside you. You wiggled your hips to get more comfy. All it did was grind his tip more onto your g spot.

"Good girl, I was lookin' for that." He smiled at you like the dopey simp he was. You were perfect in his eyes, already whining.

Honestly, what miracle did he do in this life to deserve a goddess like you? He wasn't so sure if he did deserve you and that made him cherish you even more.

This much goodness towards a corrupted man like himself was a rarity. Joker swore not to f__k this up.

He knew you needed a moment to adjust, being on top allowed you to feel everything times a hundred. Joker reached up to cup your breast, kissing and kneading as he pleased. In the meantime, he fed into your praise kink, whispering sweet nothings to you.

You soaked up each one like a sponge.

Joker bit back a groan feeling you subconsciously clench around his cock.

Could you feel him throbbing inside of you? He hoped you could. Ignoring his primal need to pound into from below was maddening but he'd do anything for the sake of your comfort. He could wait until you were ready, and his patience was soon rewarded.

You parted those gorgeous lips of yours and said the magic words. "Please move, J. I need.."

"I know Bun."

Within seconds, you were being lifted up before gravity brought you hurling back down onto Joker's cock.

The first few thrusts stole the air from your lungs, but overtime Joker adopted a steady rhythm and it became clear, you weren't the only one craving this.

Joker was just as needy (if not more) than you.

His guttural groans turned your insides into goo and the wet slap of his dick slamming into you over and over and over, unplugged your brain right from the socket. You cried out when Joker dug his heels into the floor and lost himself to the pleasure.

His head fell back against the floorboard, and he laughed in between moans. "Did ya miss... meeee, Bunny? Huh? What's that? Aww, you c-can't think straight... when your pussy getting railed thisss good? Ahh, s'alright, I ngh, f- f__k, I missed you."

His feral yet sincere tone made you clench down unexpectedly and lose your balance bouncing on his dick.

You fell onto Joker's abdomen, and he grunted feeling the fresh gunshot wound you gave him throb. Rubber or lead, it still hurt.

Not like a little pain stopped Joker from hugging you to his chest and pounding up even harder into your cunt. You tried to express your sentiments yet only incoherent babbles were heard.

Joker had reduced your brain to mush.

Although a trace of guilt still lingered in your mind. You thought about your dad and uncle at the rendezvous spot. Were they in pain just like Joker or worse?

You were so caught up in your remaining thoughts that you didn't notice Joker getting frustrated.

He was doing everything in his power to make you de-stress and forget about everything, but you weren't cooperating. You were so close to being a mindless slut for him but you had to ruin it by thinking.

His Bunny was never one to follow orders. It was his fault for expecting the impossible.

He was forced to take things a step further. Your knotless braids looked enticing and Joker grinned wolfishly right as he grabbed a handful of them.

Your throaty moan echoed throughout the SUV as a result. You clamped a hand over your mouth to silence it, but Joker was faster and smacked it away.

"NO! Stop thaT! It's just yoo~oou and me, Princess. So scream. Show me.. just how much, you ngh.. missed me."

He gritted his teeth and sped up his powerful thrusts. "Show me! C'mon be a good girl 'n open that... filthy little mouth.. ahh a-and scream! Do. It!"

J pulled your braids harder, forcing your spine into a painful arch. You felt exactly like a doll being bent to Joker's desires.

You cried out—the words jumbled up and way too high in pitch to comprehend, nevertheless, Joker understood what you wanted to convey. "Aww? ThaT much?"

He used his other hand to smack your behind and quickly rub the sting out. "My turn. I missed you... this! Much!"

A series of slaps had you sobbing in pleasure. Each slap was harder than the last and you heard Joker's sadistic laughter ring out inside the vehicle. He was everywhere at once; deep in your guts, lips on your neck, eager hands roaming your skin. You couldn't handle this much affection.

It lowered your inhibitions and loosened your tongue.

"J... I ah!" You sobbed feeling Joker lick a trail up your neck and bite down, "I t-t-trust you!"

He snorted at your delayed response from earlier that was finally being processed. Dicking you down was emptying that pretty little head of yours after all. You were a babbling mess riding his cock and he loved every minute of it.

Yet your statement made him lose his pace for a millisecond. Trust was everything to you and the way you said it with such conviction...

It wasn't just a random comment.

His eyes widened at what you were trying to get across. "Oh Bunny. Shh I know ya do.. I know." Joker let go of your hair and snaked his hand down to where you needed him the most.

You were rocking your hips in crazy figure eights, when a new dose of pleasure hit your body. Joker was rubbing foreign shapes onto your throbbing clit, with a sadistic glee.

Your eyes snapped open to stare at him and he greedily inhaled the shaky exhale that you moaned.

He knew you were close. You were one compliment away from shattering into a thousand pieces— yet he wanted this orgasm to crescendo. Joker wanted to wind you up past the point of no return and witness the moment you unraveled.

It was a test of patience; good things came to those who waited.

You could feel that heat creeping up your spine. You honed in on the sensation and made it your objective.

Fat tears dotted your eyelashes, your thighs quivered, and a sheen of sweat made your dark complexion glisten like gold. You were almost there. Joker could feel you clenching down on him intermittently.

Just a little more and Joker would see nirvana and it all started with a whimper of his name.

Joker swore he could cum to the sight of you in ecstasy. Your e/c eyes rolled back and a sexy smile bloomed across your face before you came so beautifully for him. A dam full of emotions burst through and he was so lucky to be doused in it. Joker held you close as you slumped forward, still chanting his name under your breath.

Honestly, he should've been the one praising you, not the other way around. He was a lost cause compared to your divinity. But that was a debate for another day.

Joker could see your light shining through especially when you shuddered with aftershocks. It almost felt forbidden to see you this vulnerable, although it inspired him to protect you.

You were boneless lying on Joker. Just a twitching mess trying to catch your breath.

Joker brushed his fingers down your spine, waiting for a physical response (a verbal one was out of the question) and he definitely got one. Your walls fluttered around his stiff cock making him involuntarily thrust up into you.

"J..!" You thought for sure he came with you. How was he still erect?

He started to laugh— warm and fuzzy in the crook of your neck. "Ahhh remember, I'm.. insatiable my dear."

You heard a smile within that statement and Joker wasn't no time flipping you onto your back.

You did remember. Joker was the greediest man you've ever met. He could never get enough of you and he proudly told you that each time he bedded you.

Speaking of. Joker had a mad case of bed head.

His hair was wild from your hands playing in it and you loved how the moonlight caught in the unusual hue. Your fingers itched you card through the strands once more.

Joker looked absolutely handsome, makeup and all, despite most of it being smudged and/or melted off. You could only imagine what your skin looked like streaked red and white after his constant affection to it.

"I still need you. Is that uhh, okay?" Joker mumbled.

As if you couldn't deny this man anything. Somehow Gotham City's most notorious criminal, had you in a chokehold. You were so down bad for Joker it wasn't funny anymore.

And so, another piece of your defenses fell to let Joker in.

You reached up and swiped your thumb along Joker's red lips and he went crosseyed to follow the motion. "Do whatever feels right." You said.

Joker's eyes widened, remembering those exact same words from the last time the two of you were intimate. Adding to the déjà vu, he responded in kind.

"You'll be the death of me woman."

He pulled out, only to slide back inside your pussy—mimicking the tides at sea. Slow and steady, Joker worked you right back up to the precipice; and he didn't tear his gaze away from yours in the process.

The SUV windows were fogged over and the frame was most likely rocking in tandem with Joker's powerful thrusts—yet neither of you cared about being caught.

Right now, the only thing on the brain was each other.

Your head was fuzzy with another orgasm simmering on the surface and Joker was right there with you, ready to send the both of you over. You could tell he was close by his erratic thrusts and unabashed moans.

Words were not needed this far into the night. You looped your arms around Joker's neck and dragged him down for a kiss.

It was sloppy, really just a clash of hot air and lips, but it got the job done.

Joker leaned in close to give you deep, toe-curling thrusts into your twitching cunt. You squeezed him so tight he could barely pound into you, yet he found a way.

He repositioned your hips and kept your legs locked around his waist. You had nowhere to go except over the edge.

Green eyes watched intently as the first wave of pleasure washed over you. You were absolutely mesmerizing.

Your mouth fell open and nothing escaped but airy gasps. You looked up at J in shock that an orgasm so powerful could sneak up on you like this.

Joker grinned and cheered you on with coos and groans, not slowing his pace for a second. He couldn't stop; not when you felt this good. Just a little more.. he was right there..

Out of nowhere your acrylic nails sank into Joker's back, leaving angry red marks, some bubbling with blood—it was the spark he needed to burn out of control.

His lashes fluttered beautifully before he too succumbed to pleasure. Feeling him pulsate as he flooded your walls white was worth the wait. His face was tingling yet he couldn't stop until every last drop found its way into you. This was the only offering he had to give. You had to take it.

Joker collapsed on top of you with your name slipping off his tongue like a prayer.

Seconds? Minutes? It could've been hours that the two of you rested there. Time was irrelevant as Joker nuzzled his nose into your neck.

You let his gentle kisses and praises lull you to sleep.

[maleficentmrsofallevil]

Dye, doll, dye

I did a dyeing thing - a white Resinsoul centaur (Dawn) and different vinyl shell parts of an Obitsu 50 cm body (whitey and super whitey).

What I used:

A big shiny pot. Life pro tip - if you have an induction cooktop, check your crappy pot that you ordered from Amazon right away. Amazon sellers are liars.

Lots of towels (water everywhere). Dye (RIT DyeMore is what I used, because it's specifically for synthetics), isopropyl (rubbing) alcohol and a melamine sponge (Magic Eraser) for oopsies, and weed whacker trimmer string for the parts. Plus coffee.

Strung doll parts. NOTE: before I dye resin or vinyl, I soak it in cold water for 10-15 minutes. Resin is porous. Water will help open the pores for a slightly more even dye distribution.

So one thing I see over and over that drives me CRAZY is people dumping the whole bottle of dye directly into the water.

RIT has recipes. Here's the recipe for Fallen Star using "small" items:

It doesn't matter which small item you pick - the recipe is the same. For a more intense color, increase the amount of dye (Fallen Star is 2 teaspoons of Royal Purple, 1/2 teaspoon Frost Grey, 1/2 teaspoon Sapphire Blue per 4 cups of water). If you dump in the whole bottle, 1) you're wasting dye, and 2) you're not going to get the color that the dye is supposed to produce.

Dye measured - and then I measure one more batch in a separate cup. As stuff goes in the water, dye is absorbed and removed from the water - so you gotta add a little back. Like, an eyedropper at a time, a little.

I set the water to be just under a boil - no bubbling, but still painful when you accidentally stick a finger in there. It's soapy because RIT recommends adding a tiny bit of dish soap and a little salt to the dye bath to help disperse the color evenly.

Dunk:

The resin parts got 3 minutes each. The vinyl parts got 6 minutes.

Horse butt magnet came unglued, and there's something on the butt that prevented it from absorbing dye. I don't know what it is. I'll have to color correct with pastels. Also: the horse body was cast in two parts that were glued together, and the seams sanded. This became immediately apparent post-dye.

The floating blobs top left are vinyl thigh parts after 3 minutes in the dye bath. The darker blue human parts of vinyl parts after a six minute bath.

A few more things: whatever that butt glue was, it liquified in the pot and stuck to stuff. I am not happy about this.

Because parts are thinner in some places and thicker in others, when I pulled a part out of the bath, I would run it under cool water. Then I grabbed my melamine sponge and scrubbed areas where the dye was darker or absorbed funny. Isopropyl alcohol can also help remove some of the dye.

The dye continued to process, even after I rinsed all the parts. When I woke up the next morning, everything was an even more intense blue - especially the vinyl.

My self-imposed max time for resin in a hot water dye bath is 3 minutes. 2-part epoxy resin reacts quickly and hardens to equilibrium - NOT completion. When resin parts are put into almost-boiling hot water, the reaction is reactivated. The resin parts will shrink. I read on a resin manufacturer's website that after 20 minutes, the resin will become extremely brittle and fragile. From past experience, I know that 3 minutes in hot water is enough to make a resin part shrink.

Since the resin parts were dyed for 3 minutes each, this means I will NOT be attempting a gradation with dye. I'll use pastels instead.

But vinyl, however - vinyl can take some heat. Heh heh heh.

Next up: purple!

[landofadonises]

NG-AD0372 Lingering Effects - Bullmilk Creamery Co. Supply Line

There's an interesting, overarching effect of the experiments that have been taking place in the nation's National Guard. When you really think about it, there's only so many ways to transport Alpha-Dom, via trucks and such, and accidents happen... things leak into the environment... and you end up with a nothing-creamery-company becoming a top seller within a couple of months.

A top supplier to college towns and metropolitan areas, Bullmilk Creamery Co. received a surge of business after their dairy supplier suddenly was able to provide significantly more resources for processing, their ice creams and creamers becoming much more flavorful. One unforeseen side effect that enticed those eating it was that, for some indiscernible reason, it was almost like their ice cream was spicy for the body--still an incredibly delicious, cold, sweet treat, but after they started eating it, they'd end up getting all warm, sweaty, glistening... and if they were treating themselves after a great workout, their clothes would always be a bit more snug, but they were always attributing it to their clothes clinging to the sweat.

The ice cream only came to be known what it is now as the regulars started briefly complaining about how the "spiciness" was becoming more and more potent and the sweating was getting almost out of control, but those complaints quickly shifted to enjoyment, as the trace amounts of NG-AD0372 in the ice cream meant that these customers were just... really starting to enjoy their own form. The jig was up once these regulars started coming in shirtless because their newly-but-gradually-burgeoning muscles didn't allow them to put on a single shirt in their closet, and in typical business policy formatting in Adonis, no shirt-no shoes-no service was simply not a thing, and in fact, you may end up receiving more service than just what the business can provide.

A lot of dining halls and ice cream parlors became... very messy.

[grand-theft-carbohydrates]

-Bargain Bin Prince-

Lu Buwei was once a wealthy merchant who hailed from the kingdom of Wei. He made his living buying cheap and selling dear. One day, while on a business trip to Zhao, his fortunes took a change for the extraordinary.

He was taking his lunch at a wine house when he looked out into the street and saw a group of young noblemen playing a cruel and unusual game. They had bought some hot meat buns and were using them to tease a beggar—a painfully skinny youth whose clothes were so old and small his wrists stuck out a whole chi from their sleeves. First, they made him bark like a dog. Then they made him get on all fours and walk like one. After he had completed a few circuits, yipping and yapping, they finally made good on their promise and tossed a bun onto the ground. The young man pounced on it in a flash and shoved it into his mouth with both hands, nearly choking himself in his desperation to eat. 

Lu Buwei realised with surprise that the boy was wearing pure silk. The fabric had once been top-shelf stuff, though now it had become hopelessly threadbare and dirty. What he initially took to be a beggar was more than what met the eye. 

The merchant moved closer to the window. His wine had long grown cold. What began as morbid curiosity had been overtaken with eager fascination. His instincts were telling him that he was witnessing something important. 

As the group of nobles prepared to ride off, the boy scrambled to his feet and obediently took the reins of the leader's horse; it belonged to a handsome young man wearing an expensive coat fringed with brocade. As this strange group passed by the window, Lu Buwei heard the rider crack his whip and call down in a sickly sweet voice, "Do pick up the pace, A’Ren.” 

“Yes, Young Master,” the boy panted. His speech was refined, though his accent was rather hard to place.

Lu Buwei hailed a passing waiter and asked, “My good man, who was that gentleman in the fine brocade coat?” 

“Sir must be new ‘round here,” the man chuckled, “that’s the Duke’s eldest son, Young Master Zhao.” 

Heaven bless the gossipy wine sellers of the earth, Lu Buwei thought, “and who was the boy leading his horse? He doesn’t look like a servant.” 

A sneer crossed the man’s face. “Oh, him? No one important, just some minor Qin prince.”

"A prince?” 

“That’s right!” the waiter said gleefully, “you’d never guess from the looks of him. I tell you, he was real uppity when he first came here with his fancy airs and expensive clothes, but our Young Master Zhao’s been teaching him his manners. What an improvement that’s made! He’s proper regal now, ha ha!” 

“Remarkable,” Lu Buwei murmured, stroking his beard, “how very remarkable.” 

The merchant spent the next few days methodically panning the city of Handan for every nugget of information. The Qin prince was sixteen-year-old Ying Yiren, currently living as a political hostage in Zhao. Despite the deeply ironic name, which meant "extraordinary person," Yiren was only a concubine's whelp and barely worth the scraps he was fed. He had been the most expendable of his litter without being too lowly to offend his captors. That certainly explained why the duke's son could bully him so terribly. Like all currencies, princes depreciate rapidly in value when they’re over-minted, and the kings had a habit of pumping them out, two or three dozen at a time. They were not rare goods, so anything short of death or disfigurement was fair game.  

As Lu Buwei watched this pitiful, downtrodden creature, his heart became greatly moved—moved by the allure of profit, that is. He knew from experience that if he invested in wheat, he could earn back ten times as much profit. If he invested in pearls, he would make one hundredfold. Just imagine the returns he could get on a prince! 

Lu Buwei was a wealthy man with every worldly procession he could desire, but there was one thing money couldn't buy: respectability. Merchants were looked upon with the same warmth reserved for headlice and tapeworms. They were the most hated class of people, considered by many to be thieves in silk clothes, stringing their belts with other people’s hard work and contributing nothing of value themselves. 

Lu Buwei thought this was a simplistic but not unfair assessment of his work. It was true; he grew no wheat, spun no silk, and mined no jade, yet he could profit from all these things. He was self-aware enough to pity the muddy, sun-burned farmers who spat at the ground as he passed. Farmers were the lifeblood of every nation; they were born in filth and broke their backs keeping the country fed, yet he could earn ten times as much for each jin of their wheat without ever picking up a hoe. He'd envy himself, too, were their roles reversed. 

Yes, he could begrudge the farmer. But it rankled him to no end when it was the nobles who sneered at him from behind their sleeves. It got inside him, scratching and irritating like a grain of sand in an oyster. It felt unfair in a way that he could not quite explain. The only difference between himself and the average liege lord was that he had to work for his bronze, which made his money dirty, somehow—tainted by the sweat of his brow. Because he had started off as a faceless clerk in second-hand clothes, huddled together with a dozen coworkers, sharing the weak light of a single oil lamp as they copied tallies filled with goods they could never afford, this made him an unworthy pretender in their eyes. Working was both right and wrong; it seemed paradoxical. If he was up from sunrise to sundown, running around the city, balancing accounts and keeping abreast of the latest investments, it made him greedy. If he lounged about all day, reading poetry and taxing peasants at his leisure, it would make him respectable. 

Fair or not, it was heaven's mandate, and every mortal was made for their role. Lu Buwei had no interest in flipping the world upside down on a whim. He was no axe-wielding giant or muddy-handed goddess, just a simple little sparrow who wanted to line his nest with something comfortable before he got too old and grey to fly. 

Lu Buwei knocked on the doors of every associate in Handan and pooled together every favour that was owed him. This got him a meeting with Duke Zhao. The duke was not pleased to host so far beneath his station, but Lu Buwei had invited his most eloquent friends to speak for him; these were silver ingots, lacquerware and bolts of fine silk. In the presence of such esteemed company, the duke had no choice but to smile graciously and hold his nose. 

The trick to climbing the social ladder was to start near the bottom and work steadily upwards. Once Lu Buwei had Duke Zhao in his palm, he was able to secure an audience with the King. All of his eloquent friends were invited, of course. As Master Sun wrote in The Art of War, 'Make a noise in the East and attack in the West.' Lu Buwei pretended that he was here to rub shoulders with the nobility. His real goal was to get close to Ying Yiren. 

----------

[Lu Buwei befriends Ying Yiren. He convinces the Zhao King to let Ying Yiren stay at his house, ostensively as a live-in clerk. Lu Buwei tells Ying Yiren that he is extraordinary and deserves to be the next King of Qin. He plans on convincing the childless Queen to adopt Yiren as the heir apparent.]

The door opened in a haze of sandalwood incense, revealing a new set of clothes and a pink, freshly scrubbed Ying Yiren standing stiffly inside them. Lu Buwei eyed the prince critically. The extra layers gave him some much-needed bulk, but the best thing to be said about the boy at this stage was that he was not deformed or sickly. Fatten him up by five or six jin, double the amount of brocade, and he might eventually pass for stately.  

“My Prince, you look splendid!” Lu Buwei turned to the servants, “doesn’t he, girls?” 

“Oh, yes, My Prince!” they cried theatrically, “so handsome! So manly!” 

Ying Yiren turned crimson and tripped on the doorsill. “Sorry! Sorry!” It wasn’t clear who he was apologising to: the girls, Lu Buwei, or the door. 

Lu Buwei held back a sigh. He wanted someone malleable, but this was going too far! What happened to the stereotype of Qin men being war-loving brutes? How did he end up with this woolly little lamb? 

A dull gleam caught Lu Buwei’s eye. Ying Yiren was still wearing his old jade pendant, which clashed terribly with the new black silks. It was the same one he had fought for so fiercely two months ago in front of the king and his court. It had been a rare moment of genuine courage, and Lu Buwei would be lying if he said he wasn’t curious to see the trinket that inspired such an outburst. 

“Was this the pendant that Young Master Zhao stole from you?” 

“Oh, you remember that?” Ying Yiren looked surprised, “I…Yes. It is.”

"How could I forget, My Prince? You conducted yourself so bravely that day. You should have seen the fear in their eyes!” Lu Buwei had been petrified of losing his nest egg before it hatched. Everyone else was probably worried the prince had contracted rabies and might start biting. 

“My mother—I mean, Concubine Yu, gave this to me," Ying Yiren started twisting the red string between his fingers. “It was the last present I received before I left Qin, to grant me protection and to hasten my safe return. I don't know how she managed to afford it--"

“It must truly be a peerless item!” Lu Buwei had no stomach for this saccharine outpouring, “may I see it?"

Ying Yiren hesitated, “of course, Sir.” 

Lu Buwei held the jade to the light and pretended to admire it. It was a genuine article, though that scarcely did it any favours. It was the cheapest grade of serpentine, with dull, muddy colours. One of the edges had been broken and clumsily fixed with flour paste, doubtless by the boy's own hand. 

Ying Yiren hovered anxiously by his side. He all but snatched the pendant from Lu Buwei's hands, cradling it protectively like it was some precious heirloom. 

"It has so much character!" Lu Buwei said heartily, which was not a lie. "Much more memorable than those common, gaudy baubles." 

"Yes! It is, isn't it?" Ying Yiren pointed excitedly to the two weak veins of blue running through it, "The brown represents the earth, and these blue lines are the two great Chang and Huang Rivers! Isn’t it auspicious?”

“How extraordinary!” The only extraordinary thing here was that jade seller’s outrageous pitch, spinning such a fantasy to convince an ignorant concubine that this second-rate rock was a rare and marvellous item. 

Lu Buwei brought forth the new jade pendant. It was much larger and thicker than that shabby embarrassment; the colour was such a pure snow-white that it seemed to glow faintly. 

Ying Yiren looked ecstatic to receive such a princely gift. Then he looked torn. "I…I cannot accept this, Mister Lu." 

"A prince needs to dress according to his station." 

"I know! But I can’t just throw this away! This jade may not be grand, but it’s a piece of A’niang’s heart. She worked so hard for it!” Ying Yiren’s bottom lip started to tremble, “she was always working so hard for me. She always believed in me, even when no one else did, but I was too untalented to get Father's attention.” 

Lu Buwei put on his most indulgent smile and coaxed, "My Prince, you have a noble heart, but the best way to honour your birth mother would be to fulfil your birthright rather than holding onto these material items. She would want to see you become a great man." 

Lu Buwei held out the jade again; this time, Ying Yiren nodded minutely in acceptance. The merchant deliberately humbled himself by kneeling before the young man like a servant and personally affixed the pendant onto his belt. Ying Yiren helped him to his feet and said with wide, teary eyes, "Sir, you are truly a virtuous and loyal subject. I swear I shall never forget your generosity." 

Lu Buwei muttered some humble platitudes and pretended to be awestruck. What pleased him most was not the promise of reward. It was the sight of Ying Yiren furtively tucking his A'niang's pendant inside his shirt, wincing a little when the cold stone touched his bare skin. This action was worth more than a hundred blood pacts or promissory slips. Lu Buwei didn't want a clever prince who had visionary ideas. He didn't want an ambitious prince who could soar high on his own merits. He wanted a sentimental one, blinded by gratitude, who held every scrap of kindness close to his breast. 

notes: Blue and green were refered to by the same name "qing" 青 during this time period.

Bronze money was strung onto the belt, so i replaced the phrase “lining his pocket” with it.

This story is about 80% conjecture. The historical records said that Lu Buwei befriended Ying Yiren because he was an "extraordinary person" and it occurred to me that there could be a satirical twist to it, because Yiren literally translates to "extraordinary person."

this is my favourite quote. It just sums up poor Yiren's entire life so well.

“How extraordinary!” The only extraordinary thing here was that jade seller’s outrageous pitch, spinning such a fantasy to convince an ignorant concubine that this second-rate rock was a rare and marvellous item. 

[txttletale]

nothing about ai art is new

[we’re sitting in a taco bell drive through and ive abused my control over the aux cord to make you listen to indie rock classic apollo 18 by they might be giants for hours on end]

so there’s been a lot of yammering on about stable diffusion and how it will revolutionize/destroy/democratize/annihilate the world of art, depending on which impassioned twitter thread you read. what they all have in common though is (incorrectly) treating this as some radical new shift, an unprecedented leap forward caused by cutting-edge technology. this is wrong: nihil sub sole novum.

this post is not about:

ip law

whether ip law is a good thing (no)

whether ai art is Real Art (what is this girls 1917?)

how AI art actually works (as far as i can tell, like this)

this post is about

karl marx babeyyy

so in a sexy little number called wage labour and capital, carlos marx lays out some of the foundations of marxist theory. these include the labour theory of value (that the value of a thing, whether expressed in the use of something or in its exchange for other things, is only created or increased when a human being performs labour. e.g. fabric + hours of human life = clothing, which is both more useful and more valuable in exchange terms than the fabric) and the division of labour

to make a long and well-written argument short and poorly formulated (seriously, read the original, it’s like 25 pages), the price of a commodity* rises and falls around a base price that’s based on the cost of production. ‘wages’ are simply the term for the price of the commodity of ‘labour-power’, or hours of human labour**--and therefore, they rise and fall around the cost of producing human labour.

now, how much does that cost? pretty simple. first there’s the basic costs of the labourer continuing to survive day to day. then there’s the costs of them having children who can grow up to be labourers and keeping them alive too. finally, there are the costs of the labourer’s training, and these can far outstrip the first two. it’s expensive for a capitalist to hire a digital artist because the cost of producing digital artists (the survival of a human being + years and years of practice) is high--so the commodity of their labour power is priced highly.

however, marx also succintly explains supply and demand--concepts everyone’s probably semi-familiar with. when there are many sellers of a commodity, they compete for buyers by offering their commodities at lower and lower prices.

bearing in mind that ‘wages’ are just the price of the commodity of human labour-power--this means that technological development in production has a twofold depressive effect on wages: not only are less people employed (if a capitalist can produce twice as much of a commodity, they’re not guaranteed twice as much of a market--so they will instead tend towards producing the same amount at half the cost), but more people are capable of doing the work. so for the same process of production, there are more people capable of doing it, and less people needed to do it. as marx puts it:

“The greater division of labour enables one labourer to accomplish the work of five, 10, or 20 labourers; it therefore increases competition among the labourers fivefold, tenfold, or twentyfold. The labourers compete not only by selling themselves one cheaper than the other, but also by one doing the work of five, 10, or 20; and they are forced to compete in this manner by the division of labour, which is introduced and steadily improved by capital. Furthermore, to the same degree in which the division of labour increases, is the labour simplified.

The special skill of the labourer becomes worthless. He becomes transformed into a simple monotonous force of production, with neither physical nor mental elasticity. His work becomes accessible to all; therefore competitors press upon him from all sides. Moreover, it must be remembered that the more simple, the more easily learned the work is, so much the less is its cost to production, the expense of its acquisition, and so much the lower must the wages sink – for, like the price of any other commodity, they are determined by the cost of production. Therefore, in the same manner in which labour becomes more unsatisfactory, more repulsive, do competition increase and wages decrease”

when marx wrote this, he was talking about artisan craftsmen who made goods by hand in small workshop. since then we’ve seen this exact process sweep across every industry, devouring the manufacturing sector, now creeping second by second into the white-collar service economy. now, we are seeing this on the horizon for artists--there’s far more skill in creating AI artwork than some people give credit for, but it is ultimately in terms of time and accessibility easier and broader to do--it will have these effects if it is able to produce output on par, or even just slightly worse than, professional photographers and artists, for a fraction of the cost of labour-power.

so, like, why have i just written all this? to point out that the phenomenon people are scared of wrt AI art driving already precarious working artists into poverty is not some new and endemic technological horror. it is a social process that’s been ongoing for centuries--and the productive forces are not going to roll back, because capitalism demands ever-rising profits which demand ini turn ever-lower costs of production, including (especially) lower costs of production of skilled labour. if you are trying to stop stable diffusion AI tech from being used then you are trying to stop the horse by pulling on the reins of the cart. 

if you are scared that AI art is going to make your passion and profession economically worthless, the tools themselves are not your enemy--it is the system that decides how these tools will be used, that art becoming easier to make is a vector by which to divide and precaritize working artists instead of to broaden access to the joy of creation--in the same way that industrial production has been used to create the system of wage-slavery instead of providing for all, in the same way that will repeat over and over again until the system that allocates resources and labour to maximize profit instead of human welfare is toppled and replaced

[the drive thru employee politely clears their throat. i turn to them and say ‘oh i didnt want anything i just like the smell out here’ and drive away directly into a lake]

*in marxist terms, a commodity is anything that: 1. has use value, as in, someone wants to have it and use it--eat it, wear it, play with it, watch it-- 2. has exchange value, as in, it can be exchanged for other commodities (price is a reflection of this exchange value through money), 3. has value through the application of labour power (someone has worked to produce it. even raw materials count--coal power plants don’t buy coal that’s still in the ground)

**engels explains the distinction between labour-power and labour in the introduction to the 1891 edition:

 “What the economists had considered as the cost of production of “labour” was really the cost of production, not of “labour,” but of the living labourer himself. And what this labourer sold to the capitalist was not his labour.

 At the most, he could sell his future labour – i.e., assume the obligation of executing a certain piece of work in a certain time. But, in this way, he does not sell labour (which would first have to be performed), but not for a stipulated payment he places his labour-power at the disposal of the capitalist for a certain time (in case of time-wages), or for the performance of a certain task (in case of piece-wages). He hires out or sells his labour-power.”