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[old-daemon-farts]

Is daemonism safe?

Daemonism, when broken down to the bare minimum, is a mental and imaginative exercise. It's not meant to push yourself into anything potentially unhealthy. You are not forcing hallucinations and there shouldn't be any dissociation of identity or losing control of yourself.

Let's Start With Projection

Projection is applying mental images overlaid on your surroundings. It is using your imagination and relying on your ability to visualize outward what is being produced by your mind's eye. With practice, you can make your projections quite vivid, and after a while you may not even register that you are still seeing right through them. The apple exercise is a good example. Lets say you picture an apple on a plate in front of you, but the apple is fleeting and inconsistent. Its shape, colors, and size flickers rapidly or fizzles out entirely. You *know* it's not there. There's little presence or weight to it. If this was glass, it would be described as crystal clear. But, with practice, it becomes more consistent. You can now see one shade of red and the size remains the same. Perhaps you have even added details like a shadow. Now, if this was to be compared to glass it would be glass with a light tint added. You can still see right through it, but you also know something is there. You don't have to be a daemian to be able to project. Concept designers, artists, architects, althetes... projection is a type of visualization. It's a creative tool. It's not a hallucination, nor is it intended to be one.

Extreme vividness can be from hyperphantasia, but if you worry projecting may trigger or influence hallucinations then you are welcome to avoid it! Projection is fun, but not a requirement, and you should do what is most comfortable, healthy, and safest for you. Daemians who experience projection as hallucinations already have a history of them from what I have seen within the community.

Fronting and Dissociation

These are experiences usually seen within DID and other plural spaces. Daemonism doesn't focus on switching with your daemon, and you likely won't find resources specifically about it. Of course, you can switch who's in front, and some plural daemians may have advice for how to accomplish that, but again, that's not the point or focus of daemonism at large. They are usually hands off within our lives. We are the ones in the driver's seat while they are the backseat drivers giving us direction. They aren't expected to take the wheel from us. There isn't anything wrong with wanting to or being able to switch with your daemon, just to be clear. I'm only pointing out that getting daemons to front is not a priority like it is in other plural spaces. This is another reason daemonism is very easy to get into and something I consider much safer and easier to manage for the average Joe.

Dissociation isn't something that is associated with the daemon experience either. Dissociation *can* occur, but there are likely other reasons you would be experiencing these things and not just because you have a daemon. Dissociation from ADHD, stress, illness, or DID are just a few examples. Switching with your daemon could just be masking, or perhaps your mind is already comfortable sliding your daemon into front because you have DID. Again, if you are worried having a daemon could trigger dissociation or a loss of control then please do what is in the best interest for you. You know your health and history best. But, there a *many* daemians who are systems and quite happy and comfortable having daemons. Daemons have even been known to help with dissociation and sense of identity!

Talking to Yourself

Is 100% a normal, human experience. There's been a surge of exploration in self-talk and how it affects us, and talking to yourself in 2nd person even has proven benefits. You also don't *have* to talk out loud to your daemon; you can keep it all internal. Just know that splitting your own mental monologue into a dialogue isn't unhealthy and it's something many of you already do even without a daemon.

TLDR

You do only what you are comfortable with here. If something sounds risky, then don't do it. Daemonism is meant to be a healthy and fun activity.

You want to form find but not separate your daemon from yourself? Awesome.

You want to only talk to your daemon and avoid projection? Neato.

You want to project but not talk to your daemon? Perfect.

You want to learn how to switch with your daemon? We ain't really the community for that but you are free to if you are comfortable!

You do what's best for you. It's meant to fill whatever you need. Healthy mindset, growth, or just straight-up something fun to do.

Topic spawned from a question on Discord over the difference of imposition and projection as well as some differences between us and other techniques out there for headmate creation. Cleaned up and formatted better for Tumblr.

[pearlprincess02]

sour by olivia rodrigo (album astrology)

gemini sun in 4th house

as a gemini sun in the 4th house, olivia rodrigo's sour radiates a core identity centered around emotional vulnerability, exploration of duality, and introspection. gemini’s influence brings a dynamic, multifaceted energy to the album, allowing olivia to express a range of emotions, from heartbreak to anger, often through witty, sharp lyrics that resonate with the listener on an intellectual level. in the 4th house, the focus shifts inward, drawing on personal experiences, home, and the deep emotional roots of relationships. sour becomes a reflection of her inner world, expressing the emotional turbulence of adolescence and the growing pains of self-discovery. the album’s central creative focus lies in balancing vulnerability with clever self-expression, as olivia explores the intimate, often conflicting sides of love, betrayal, and identity in a way that feels both deeply personal and universally relatable.

"you talked to her when we were together / loved you at your worst, but that didn’t matter."

virgo moon in 8th house

with a virgo moon in the 8th house, the emotional depth and mood of sour is rooted in raw, analytical vulnerability, creating an intense atmosphere of emotional exploration and transformation. virgo’s meticulous nature brings an introspective and self-critical tone to the album, as olivia dissects her feelings of heartbreak, betrayal, and insecurity with precision and honesty. the 8th house amplifies this emotional journey by delving into themes of loss, power struggles, and deep inner change. the album connects to the listener’s inner world by expressing pain and vulnerability in a way that feels both relatable and cathartic. there’s a subtle, yet profound undercurrent of emotional healing throughout sour, as olivia's lyrics navigate the complexities of emotional wounds and personal growth. the album’s mood is intense, reflective, and transformative, inviting listeners to confront their own hidden emotions and experiences of heartbreak with a sense of clarity and raw honesty.

"it's bittersweet to think about the damage that we do."

capricorn rising with pisces jupiter & aquarius saturn in 1st house

as a capricorn rising, sour presents itself to the world with a serious, mature, and somewhat somber image, giving listeners the impression that the album is grounded in emotional realism and life lessons. capricorn rising influences the way sour is marketed—its branding leans into a minimalist, polished aesthetic, with visuals that evoke a sense of emotional weight and vulnerability while still feeling structured and deliberate. the vibe is one of quiet strength, as olivia channels her heartbreak through a lens of resilience and self-awareness. with pisces jupiter in the 1st house, there’s also a touch of dreamy emotional depth and empathy woven into this public image, adding a layer of artistic sensitivity and spiritual exploration to the album’s identity. meanwhile, aquarius saturn brings an unconventional edge, signaling that sour isn’t just a typical breakup album but one that challenges norms and reflects olivia's personal rebellion against expectations. this combination shapes the album’s first impression as deeply emotional yet disciplined, appealing to listeners who are drawn to both the rawness of youthful heartbreak and the wisdom gained from it.

"but if you're out there, i hope that you're okay."

gemini mercury in 5th house

with a gemini mercury in the 5th house, the lyrical content and communication in sour are marked by clever, playful wordplay and dynamic storytelling that reflect youthful creativity and emotional expression. gemini mercury thrives on sharp, quick-witted lyrics, which is evident throughout the album as olivia delivers lines that are both poignant and biting, capturing the complexity of heartbreak, jealousy, and self-reflection. in the 5th house, mercury's energy becomes more theatrical and expressive, making her storytelling deeply personal yet accessible, as if each song is a dramatic scene from her emotional life. the album's lyrics balance lightness and heaviness, often juxtaposing biting sarcasm with vulnerable confessions. this placement gives olivia a strong voice that resonates with her audience, connecting through her ability to articulate complex emotions in a way that feels authentic, youthful, and bold.

"it’s brutal out here."

gemini venus in 5th house

as a gemini venus in the 5th house, the aesthetic and harmony of sour are vibrant, expressive, and emotionally charged, with a playful yet complex approach to beauty and love. gemini venus brings a duality to the album’s sound, allowing for a mix of contrasting elements—delicate melodies paired with raw, angst-driven moments. this creates an ever-changing, multi-layered experience for the listener. the 5th house amplifies this with its focus on creativity and self-expression, making sour not just an album but a bold performance of personal emotions. venus’s influence adds a romantic and sensual touch to the music, making each song feel deeply intimate, whether it’s the bittersweet softness of tracks like "enough for you" or the fiery passion of "good 4 u." the melodies are often catchy and accessible, drawing listeners in with olivia's ability to blend beauty with emotional authenticity, creating a sound that feels both polished and raw, reflecting the album’s exploration of young love and heartache.

"do you get déjà vu when she's with you?"

cancer mars in 6th house

with cancer mars in the 6th house, the energy, drive, and intensity of sour is emotionally charged and deeply personal, yet grounded in everyday struggles and self-reflection. cancer mars brings a fierce yet protective energy to the music, with olivia channeling her emotions—particularly hurt, anger, and vulnerability—into passionate, assertive tracks like "good 4 u" and "brutal." while cancer is a sensitive sign, mars gives it a defensive edge, so the album feels like a cathartic release of pent-up emotions, particularly around themes of emotional betrayal and self-worth. in the 6th house, which governs routine and work, this mars placement emphasizes the dedication and emotional labor involved in processing heartbreak. olivia's intensity shines through in the balance between emotional outpouring and the meticulous effort to communicate her pain. the pace of the album alternates between raw aggression and more reflective moments, but there’s always an underlying assertiveness, making sour bold, relatable, and a testament to the emotional resilience born from everyday battles with heartbreak.

"well, good for you, i guess you moved on really easily."

all observations are done by me !!! @pearlprincess02

[bikenesmith]

haven't had much to say for The Death March of X, primarily bc it was mid + ultimately felt like a futile exercise outside resurrection of magneto . but the krakoa finale-funeral pissed me off. im too exhausted by the whole thing to muster emotion about what i and everyone else has discussed ad nauseam for months (corporate interests squashing creative storytelling, frankly insulting attempts at appeasing a mourning audience).

i'd already given up on squeezing any thematic cohesion out of this very slowly sinking ship but i wanted a crumb of cherik reunion, a crumb of old man yaoi, and they couldn't even deliver that!? copy-pasted/adapted from my twitter...

charles sold his soul for an idea he ascribed himself to because he and erik were doing it TOGETHER. but erik "deserted his post" & it all went to shit. yet here erik wrings his hands over choices his absence enabled + is somehow surprised that charles dgaf anymore? ridiculous

the split between krakoa cherik was not just about ideology itself. it was about emotions, and the emotions that krakoa wrought them. the guilt, pain, loss, exhaustion, the unbearable weight of responsibility... but no, please do waste the first pages they've had together in well over a year on erik blandly rehashing Xavier's Dream 2.0/This Is How Xavier's Dream Can Still Win

charles + erik are just people. they are not myths or paragons, no matter how often they pretend otherwise. they are not ideological idols or effigies. they are just flesh + blood — & they are their MOST fleshy + bloody w/ each other. i saw little of that in this issue.

ironically the exchange that seems the most "real" to me also aggravates me the most.

its like erik is on a complete other planet than charles here. how does erik not KNOW that yes, that IS all he has left??? it's a far cry from erik's implicit understanding of charles in x-men: red & resurrection of magneto

erik, who recognized the "no-place in [charles'] heart" long before anyone else did, is surprised to find said no-place swallowing charles up. and does nothing about it.

what did he mean by being "on his way"? on his way to do what? say nothing of substance + let charles lobotomize himself? LMFAO.

(despite dropping the ball on erik as well as erik in relation to charles, we did get some great solo charles moments.... this sums up so much about him perfectly, and also feels very connected to the ROM panel shared earlier. "desperate desire to be loved"....)

anyway i hope for better writing when charles is inevitably broken out of mega-prison and woken up from his mega-coma. that's really all i'm interested in w/ this blatant return to the status quo beyond storm's solo and jean's solo, which actually seem poised to be legitimately groundbreaking for both characters.

[scribeofmorpheus]

Var Lath Vir Bellanaris

PART 1: Vi'Revas Warnings: Veilguard spoilers, Solavellan spoilers, angst, yearning, the feels! Words: 2.5k, not proofed, straight word vomit. Sequel to: Harellan (post-Trespasser) & Not Some Fanciful Story Recommended song: In Cold Light NOT PROOFREAD

The sky was blackened. The spire covered in the entrails of Lusacan, the last Archdemon. So much of that moment reminded her of the final push at the Valley of Sacred Ashes, of the last fight to save all of Thedas.

“Bind yourself to the Veil,” Rook’s voice carried as clear as a bell. “…stop it from falling.”

Revas’ blood turned to ice, a gasp fighting its way out of her quivering lips.

This wasn’t how she’d imagined her future, crippled, heartbroken, beaten-down from losing friend after friend to the blight in the south. She hadn’t expected to survive her encounter with Corypheus all those years ago, but she had always imagined hope would endure if she fell in that battle; hope that there would always be a promise of tomorrow.

There was none of that now.

She’d felt it when she walked the streets of Tevinter, seeing so many feet sway above the hanging post, nooses digging through skin. Cries of loss trickled from near every home and it was worse back home. The Free Marches. The Dales. Denerim. There were no more roaming halla. The aravels were gone. Cities, older than she would ever be, were lost to the blighted growth of endless decay, lost to the sourness of rot and the heat of death. Skyhold remained. And the sick, the poor, the wounded, they all flocked to her walls. Last she was there, they had turned the rotunda into an infirmary. She’d watched as countless strangers and friends had erected a wall of remembrance over the frescoes.  Drawings, letters marked with the names of loved ones, red hand prints, every creative indicator of loss was mounted on those walls, a candle lit by the feet each night.

She had hung up the letter from Briala a few months ago, the one that spoke of the loss of the Dalish clans and city alienages, the loss of what little elvish resistance had begun to rise in the face of human tyranny. She had cried when she’d added the title of Last of Clan Lavellan to her speeches, rallying the dwindling number of her troops to their death as they tried to save Grand Enchanter Fiona and her Circle mages, and then the Arl at Redcliff, and then the entire city of Halamshiral. Walking the palace she had once danced in, seeing barely a soul, hearing no music, it broke her.

The morning after each hard-fought battle, when she went to count the new dead amongst the half-living, she’d hear the curse she’d once foolishly cast on the very walls that stood as the final bastion against complete ruination.

I hope, wherever you are, 'ma vhen'an, that you are as miserable in your lonely hunt as I am miserable in this broken body, carrying the weight of two hearts. May the dinan’shiral break you, for that is the only way I could ever hope to see you again; or let this cruel world open its maw and swallow me whole, into nothing, past the Fade and out of memory so my sadness can never touch another again.

Regret. O, such a dagger, blunted and rough, pushing past bone to tear at your insides. She understood it better than she did joy. Because why else would the world try so hard to tear itself apart if not to answer her prayer?

Was his dinan’shiral not breaking them both?

A week ago, she had placed a Chantry necklace at the foot of a pile of jewellery recovered from the dead for Mother Giselle and Charter. And then the letter from Varric… she had carried it with her, through everything. Her last shred of hope.

I found him, Freckles.

She had cried as she held the paper in her hands, Dorian’s hand pressed to her back as Rook walked out to face the last of the Evanuris.

Revas should have been used to losing. All those lessons of Wicked Grace she’d had with Varric, all the sparring matches with Bull, the debates with Dorian, the arguments on Circle infrastructure with Vivienne, talk of belief in the Maker with Leliana, belief in elven gods… Crestwood. Losing should have been as easy as breathing, but every breath was a shard of glass to her lungs, a battering ram to her spirit.

There were no ties left to bind her to her home in Thedas.  

There was but one choice to make.

Revas looked down at Elgar’nan’s body, disappointed at what rotten fruit the ides of godhood bore.  There was always someone bent on breaking the world. Uncertain, she looked ahead, dismayed by just how much the tide had turned in a few months.

It cut her deeply, to know that it was her heart that stood at the helm of this unending cycle.

From where she stood, she could see the Veil gouged open like the slit of a tired eye; poised to waken, yet still full of the promise of further sleep. That same light had once shone from her very palm.

Despite everything, she found herself fighting off the pull of a smile. Herald of Andraste here to face the very maker of the Veil. It was poetic enough to make a religion out of it. Varric would’ve made a killing with a twist like that. His best and last seller for all of Thedas. A love story.

She paused by the doorway, watching him ascend the steps slowly, unsure of what it was she was hoping to see, but when Solas bowed his head in that very same manner he had done before he bent to kiss her that last time, she knew the words that would fall from his lips before they even had a chance to grace the air.

He couldn’t do it.

Not on his own.

Thirteen steps. That was all she needed to surmount. Not a high dragon. Not a blighted, ancient Tevinter magister who had walked the Black City. Not the fall of the South. It was just thirteen steps across the divide, past Rook and past every decision that led them to this point.

Back turned to her, wrecked and ravaged by a hard fight, Solas’ body was wrapped beautifully in armour stripped down to its barebones, a remnant of the one she’d watched gleam through an eluvian, wolf pelt slung on the side in place of a sigil. It made him look vulnerable. Nowhere near as regal as he’d been in the Fade, yet neither draped in humility as he’d been in Skyhold.

When Solas climbed the final step, dagger balancing dangerously in his open palm, he declared full of regret: “I cannot.”

His voice, quivering and mournful, sent tremors through Revas.

She quickened her pace, half afraid she’d turn into a shemlen in the process.

He was so close. So close to touch. Her every muscle ached to reach out and be reunited with him, her chest heavy as though she could feel the very weight of him pressed against her bones. Yet, despite how much she desired it, she could not run to him. She had to take each step carefully.

Rook gave her a look of warning, but shifted to the side, letting her pass.

They would work together on this.

Revas would have her shot.

Until she wouldn’t.

The ground seemed to stretch farther with each step, creating even more distance the closer she got. The air, acrid with the smell of blight and blood, grew thick, electric in that habitual way the Fade had felt when it coursed through the anchor, when it bound her every fibre to a spark of light and used her very spirit as flint to cauterise the tears in the veil all those years ago.

Three steps left.

She could practically feel what it was like to be beside him, to be near his magic.

They had once been like ice and thunder. Her, this brewing storm like the kind that kissed the horizon on the Storm Coast. Him, the kind of avalanching cold that could rival the fall of Haven.

Whenever she’d been close to him in battle, feeling the strength of his barriers, nearly impenetrable, she’d felt unstoppable. And at the mark of terrifying blizzards that’d turn the skin of any enemy brandishing a blade against her to glaciers, she’d feel so possessively loved.

That is what she had to hold onto. Not the pain or the betrayal or the losses. The love that was always there, slipping through the cracks, chipping away at his polite mask, bolstering her with the knowledge that she was not so easily avoided, no matter how hard he’d tried to steer clear of her.

Elfroot, ozone and poultices. The scent of an apostate. A teacher. He was only three steps away.

Solas stared at the Veil, his back holding fast with purpose, his fingers twitching by the dagger's grip. He took a breath, and without looking back at Rook, he pressed on with his reasoning: “To stop now would be to dishonour those that I’ve wronged to come this far!”

Solas raised his hand, dagger’s edge close to his bleeding eye, and she knew not to wait any longer. This was it. The moment when she’d test how well she’d kept his heart.

Time went still. His body turned ridged as he turned to face her the moment she spoke.

“Even if those you’ve wronged asked you to stop?”

He looked so utterly broken. Revas watched in relief as she saw just how much of an effect those simple words had had on him.

Solas’ lips parted ever-so-slightly, his brow moving up a fraction, showing a hint of familiar awe—that surprise at having been affected so deeply by her. It was good to see that things didn’t change. And for a second, she imagined he’d smile. But then he bowed his eyes, snapping his eyes away from the heat of her gaze, turning his head to look downward.

Shame.

He was ashamed.

In a solemn breath, one meant for reunited lovers, not opposing forces at the end of the world, he whispered her title; her name; her place in his story: “Vhen’an…”

That simple word was enough to knock the wind from her, but Revas would not give him the satisfaction of being backed into a corner by pain. Not like in Halamshiral. Not again.

Her heart quickened as she took another step forward, “You think you’ve gone too far to come back but you’re wrong. I am here,” she gestured to the desolation around them, beseeching, “walking the dinan’shiral with you!”

Slowly, he lowered his dagger, his temples burdened by the dawning of his actions, by the gravity of what she’d just said.

“I lied,” he urged, trying to draw on any nerve that might still be raw, unwilling to believe she truly meant the words she’d spoken. “I betrayed you.”

And what did that matter?

Through everything.

How could that matter when she was beginning to remember what it was like to be in his gaze, to hear the tremors in his voice, to feel the power of his yearning across those steps?

“I forgive you!” She felt her voice crack. “All you have to do is stop!”

Please, for me, my heart, stop.

Solas turned to face her completely, his head, once high, was brought low in reverence. Humbly, as was his way all those years ago, he bowed before her and her heart broke.

“Ir abelas, vhen’an, but I cannot.” His head rose up, his eyes hardening, replacing humility with purpose. “Long before we met, I failed my oldest friend. She died for my failure. If I leave the Veil in place, I am destroying the world she wanted. And I will have… She will have died for nothing.”

He turned back to the tear in the veil, raised the dagger once more, and was halted by the cry of a raven—a creature Revas had once held sacred as a Keeper of Dirthamen’s Secrets.

Morrigan transformed before him, her entrances as memorable as always. She approached Solas with ease, speaking to him with the cadence of an old friend.

Revas took another step forward, mind focused on him. Always him. All she could do was push; pushing past the doubt that tried to claw up her spine when she witnessed him shrink with the realisation that he was not speaking to Morrigan entirely; pushing past the wrenching in her gut when she heard how torn he’d sounded as he’d spoken Mythal’s name; pushing past the anger as she learned of his corruption at her hands, past the devastation as she watched him crumble in the last light of forgiveness before Mythal vanished.

The petrifying sounds of his sobs sent her to her knees beside him, as he had knelt for her when she’d been wracked by pain when the anchor tried to rip its way out of her.

Finally, she would say the vows she had dreamed of saying.

“Banal nadas. Ar lath ma, vhen’an,” she could see him shake, hear him whimper, but it had been enough.

With a clenched fist, Solas resolved to stand tall, his hand ghosting the deep bruise near his forehead as he tried to control his sobs. With a steadying breath, he found the strength to turn to the Veil and do what must be done.

In the blink of an eye, he brought the lyrium dagger to his palm and sliced clean through, holding his fist up as he made his oath.

“My life force now sustains the Veil. With every breath I take, I will protect the innocent from my past failures. The Titans’ dreams are mad from their imprisonment. I cannot kill the blight, but I can help to soothe its anger.”

Solas placed the dagger in Rook’s hand, finally turning to Revas to say his goodbye, “I will go and seek atonement.”

Then he paused in front of the tear, and Revas was certain this was where her path would always end.

“But you do not have to go alone,” she walked up to him, hands outstretched.

There was that look again. Awe. Disbelief, Adoration.

When next he spoke, he sounded so small, so mortal.

“Ar gelass vir banal,” she shook his head, his eyes gleaming with tears that were barely being held at bay. Soft. So unbelievably soft. Revas would not be talked out of this.

“Tel banal arama,” she refuted his excuse.

Solas swallowed down another sob, except this one was half laughter. Because, of course she’d cast aside any fears he might have used to persuade her otherwise. His hand pressed down on hers, hopeful, full of need, and she complied.

As a child, she’d heard lovers exchange the vows of eternity during marriage ceremonies. Once, she’d dreamed of uttering them to him, when they’d been in the Inquisition. Sylaise enaste var aravel. Lama, ara las mir lath. Bellanaris. The words had sounded so beautiful. Inevitable, even. But knowing what she knew of the Old Gods, if she were to make a vow of forever, it would not be in Sylaise’s name. It would be in honour of the distances they’d spent apart. The journey.

“Vir shiral ma’lasa, bellanaris,” she sealed the vow with a kiss. Gentle, compassionate, tangled with relief. They had endured. As Ar Bellanaris had, the burial grounds in the Dales, through war and occupation, an untouched beacon of old Arlathan. Bellanaris. Eternity, come what may. They had made the journey, and now all that remained was the love.

Solas deepened the kiss, wincing through it as he carefully moved his cut lip against hers, the taste of blood shared between them.

When they finally parted, they were one. Bound. Spirits entwined. And then they became the heartstone of the Fade. The place where Cole was from. The place where they had shared their first kiss. As Revas had made Skyhold a home, made Thedas a place worth living in, for however short a time, she knew Solas would do the same for her. A home for a home.

The Maker returned back to his beginnings, but he was neither alone, nor surrounded only by regret. He was with his bride. The Herald of Andraste. Inquisitor. Revasan Lavellan, the Last of Her Clan; a Paragon of Freedom.

Now all that needed to be done was face the regret.

[simsyworld]

Here are some mods that are essentials in my game!

Delivery S&S " Healthy Foods" - download - @somik-severinka

This mod adds a delivery service of healthy foods that can help you sim meal plan. With these foods being healthy, your sim will lose weight

2. Family Life - download - @jellypawss

This mod adds new interactions, buffs, traits, aspirations, and more! This mod will shape your sim's child's future! (Ex: only child sims will be more creative and have harder time learning social skills.) - quoted by @jellypawss

3. The One Where They Are Friends - download - @katiemods

This mod adds venting interactions, emotional support interactions, chat interactions, and compliment interactions!

4. Maplebell's More Traits Mod - download - @maplebellsmods

This mod adds traits that are perfect for gameplay. Have a sim be shy, sexist, generous, unforgiving, warm hearted and more. Some traits are positive and some are negative, but that's where the realism comes in!

5. The One With The Loving Parents - download - @katiemods

With this mod you can praise your sim's child, give them reassurance, love them, and get to know you sim's child better!

6 . The One With All The Romance - download - @katiemods

As you can tell, I love Katie's mods for gameplay! This mods is everything you need to make your sims relationship more realistic. Argue about cheating, break up for falling out of love, communicate feelings, get to know your sim in a romantic way, say I love you for the first time, talk about moving in together, and SO many more interactions.

7. Life's Drama Mod - download

This mod adds 11 different dramatic situations that could happen around your sim starring NPC townies and adds a lively atmosphere in your sims neighborhoods. Increase your social popularity and help other sims with social situations, gain their trust and obtain their dirtiest secrets to expose them to the whole world. This mod requires wickedwhims for animations.

8. Life's Tragedies Mod - download

This mod your sim will now face tragic occurrences that would change their fates by adding dark twists and events. These events include Fatal Illnesses, Kidnapping, Serial Killers, Armed Robbers, Car accidents, and more... This mod definitely has made me cry a few times but is worth it for the realism! (sorry in advance for the loss of your sims...) This mod requires wickedwhims for animations.

9. Passionate Romance Mod - download

A great ending for my favorite realism mod's list. With this mod you can express your true feelings and love. It adds animations to show how much your sims love each other. This mod requires wickedwhims for animations.

I hope you find something from this list that changes the way you feel about the sims, as I wish these interactions were included in the game!

Happy Simming! - Simsyworld

[utilitycaster]

I agree what the cast says does not hold as much weight as what happens on stream. I think this is why I get frustrated by the 'Orym is to blame for Laudna killing Bor'dor' debates, using things Liam and/or Marisha have said on 4-sided dive that contradict the actual scene, where Marisha states Laudna barely notices Orym and Ashton, and *nothing* will stop her from doing what she wants to do. At worst, it's inaction. Have interviews and things like that always held so much weight in fandom?

I am absolutely the wrong person to ask here; I was not super in fandom when I was younger. I am going to, as I am wont to do, make some educated guesses but please take with a grain of salt.

I think there's a few things going on. A lot of people have told me that Glee was the first fandom they personally recall where it became about winning more than like, having fun and sharing ideas, and I wouldn't be surprised if that is at least an influence. (The idea that two ships that do not conflict and indeed have incompatible sexualities are in some kind of deathly serious competition is truly so baffling to me that I have to chalk up that particular bit of, if I may use a yiddishism here, mishegos, to Glee for sure.)

I also think that there was a time and there are shows where interviews did (or do) carry more weight, namely, those with executive meddling, or loss of creative control, or, notably, queer ships until quite recently. I have a lot of friends in the Star Trek fandom even though I'm not knowledgeable at all and from what I am given to understand, there's been a few ships squashed or delayed by executive whim or homophobia that the actors would pretty openly and consistently confirm at conventions. (The ones I know are Riker and Troi; and Garak and Bashir; but I have only hazy recollections of TNG and know NOTHING of DS9 so this is second-hand). I've talked about this before, but Word of God used to carry more weight for me when you simply couldn't have same gender romances on network TV or most mainstream film without risking your career. Now? You're a coward and a panderer.

Anyway I think with actual play specifically, which is improvised (ie, intent can shift dramatically and unexpectedly) and which has a lot of talkback shows and also a disproportionately huge amount of content people get in the habit of cherrypicking, and in extreme cases this turns into cherrypicking themselves straight out of the actual narrative and into microexpressions and OOC interviews and side conversations from three years ago.

I also, and I am too tired and too many drinks in (two drinks in, to be clear) to articulate this tonight, find that actual play in particular has amassed a certain fandom that I think was attracted to things I like and support (queer characters, women/queer people/POC creating and driving their own characters, independent creator-owned productions, improvised and therefore at times really unique stories, not needing to have streaming services in some cases) but also doesn't actually like Actual Play as a medium (see: every single D20 fandom meltdown low-key boils down to "I have zero genre awareness of both whatever is going on narratively and also I high-key loathe D&D as a means of storytelling and particularly the existence of violence in narrative, yet I am watching the Violent Narrative D&D show, so dance or me, my puppets, wait why aren't you dancing.") So I think you get a lot of people who are just making dumb fucking arguments because they decide what they believe and then poorly reverse engineer the support instead of doing things in the proper order and I think the people claiming Orym is responsible for Bor'Dor's death are in that category and we should stop treating them as people who are adding anything of worth to the conversation.

[mekandawn]

Thankfully, They're All Right :D

After nearly two decades of finding new and creative ways to crush their right foot, Caythaes had finally built themself boots with reinforced toes strong enough to survive everything short of having something wedged between the plating and prying them right off. They'd dropped everything they could think of onto the plated bridge of their foot; pikes, metal bars, an entire siege engine… the shape of the plating meant that pointed objects simply skidded off to the side, and the weight of heavy objects redistributed itself over the entire plate and off to the side instead of simply pressing downwards until their foot became crushed.

None of that innovation mattered much when a squad of Nerubians eruptted from the ground underneath Fate and start hauling her downward. Sure, the plating meant they could just dig their toes in and anchor themself in the ground, but instead of giving them the leverage they needed to haul Fate right back, Caythaes just got ripped right out of their boots.

Luckily, they only had one skinnable knee left, and their workpants were just as heavily reinforced as their boots. Unluckily, to the Nerubians Caythaes weighed about as much as a bunch of grapes, and while their attempt to rescue Fate was heroic in intent, the results were…

Sub-optimal.

The minor explosive they installed in their prosthetic foot didn't even leave a dent in the disturbed where Fate had once lain, and now, they were short one arm.

And one foot, but at least they carried a spare just in case.

They didn't have a spare arm, and the way it was sparking where it'd been ripped from the elbow hurt. It had been a long time since their prosthetic arm had been damaged in such a way, the metal struts twisted until they snapped and the elbow joint torn in half. Azerite dripped from ragged tubing, and the wires…

The wires were the worst. The pain signals firing with each twitch and spark sent Caythaes careening to the ground with tears in their eyes as they flailed with their right hand, trying to find the quick release built into the base of the prosthetic. Why had they built it so small? It was just a tiny latch, a shallow indent deep enough for their fingertips to catch it. In practice, they knew it was meant to keep the release from triggering accidentally, but now, as they dragged their fingers blindly over the metal of their bicep, they deep regretted their choice.

Finally, Caythaes found the latch and as they triggered the release, everything from their mid-bicep down went numb and their body felt completely unbalanced. The familiar weight of their prosthetic was gone, leaving their left side feeling roughly 70lbs lighter.

“Fuck,” they swore, kicking at the dirt with their sock covered left heel. “Eternal Sun damn it,” they added for good measure, groaning as they rolled upright. “I don't- I don't know if anyone is- is going to be mad at me for this,” they murmured, digging out their spare foot - little more than a springy bit of metal bent into a question mark shape - and slotting it into place with their right hand. “But I'm mad at me for this.”

With a sigh, Caythaes scrambled to their feet and unsteadily made their way back to their boots, wobbling with every step as they tried to re-calibrate their sense of balance. They'd figure it out eventually, but the thought was little comfort as they made their way towards where the rest of the survivors were gathering. Hopefully, if nothing else, Fate found the lockpicks and the emergency healing potion they kept stored in the forearm.

Or the grappling hook that fired out of the wrist. Or spring-loaded the knives in the knuckles.

(Takes place before Adult Supervision Required. I should go edit it to include the loss of their arm )

[j0kers-light]

His Lighthouse: Losers Aren’t Weepers (LedgerJoker x f!reader)

Losers Aren’t Weepers

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:  

Y/n copes with the fact she's seen the infamous face of The Joker in the aftermath of having sex with him. The decision to take their newly found relationship is taken more seriously than before and it only weights on her as well. Will the two new love birds settle quietly within their new role or will things be even more awkward now that they are together?

Authors Note:

I want to thank everyone who sent out thoughts and messages as I struggled with the loss of my furbaby. For a while there I didn't have the mindset or the energy to write, but I found a way. I couldn't leave you all hanging and on a cliffhanger no less!! So here is another installment of my dreams turned fanfic that I hope you all thoroughly enjoy! I truly look forward to any comments and feedback: They are my fuel to keep going!

Taglist!    

@blackreaderatrisk   @twinkledinkle @clemdango04 @l3ejm @tears-of-amber @what-an-angell

Let me know if anyone else would like to be added to the taglist!!  

Last Chapter  |  Next Chapter 

Shocking news at the top of the hour.

Popular YA author, Y/N L/N, found dead in her apartment at the age of (insert). Authorities suspect foul play as the young writer was found in her shower with the water still running. Her work precedes her as the famous hit series, Will Hunter Bill is in the works of being turned into a movie starring famous actor...

Okay Y/n, maybe that's a bit too dramatic. Was it too pretentious of you to write your own breaking news headline? You didn't think so since your days were numbered after seeing a glimpse of Joker's bare face.

You were still huddled in the corner of the shower, wet hands covering your eyes and awaiting sudden death. Hopefully Joker would be merciful and make it quick.

A good snap of the neck or perhaps bashing your head into the tiled wall. If he got creative, he could choke you with the loofah string. Once again, writing mystery and thriller novels really broadened your knowledge of ways to kill people.

The possibilities were endless! You just wished Joker hurried up and picked one. You didn't dare to turn around but you ultimately became curious when nothing happened after a while.

Obviously you weren't tripping.

Makeup + fake name = secret. Joker was keeping his true identity from everyone yet here you are alive and well with a portion of that truth. He killed others for less. So why were you still alive? You considered yourself a somewhat lucky person but this didn't feel right. You pinched yourself to see if you were dreaming but the pain confirmed what you already knew. This was really happening. So you tempted fate and stole a peek through your fingers.

Sweet baby Jesus and the grown one too.

The sight was straight out of a Shojo anime. Joker's profile was facing you with sharp lines and dripping with masculinity through the shower fog.

In another life you believed Joker could have been a teenage heartthrob or some famous model. His eyes were closed as he washed the remainder of his makeup off and the swirls of white, red, and black dripped down his toned arms in a tantalizing manner.

And he would tip his head back underneath the shower head like this was some moody cologne commercial! Your heart skipped a beat from the fan service. Now you understand how high schoolers in anime could pop nose bleeds on command. Watching Joker wash off felt illegal. Maybe you did die and this was heaven.

You weren't hiding it anymore. You were openly staring with no shame. The man was all types of fine and right there for your viewing pleasure, heck yeah you were going to indulge!

Joker was foul for hiding his athletic build underneath dark suits and cloaks but you were glad you were the only one that got to see him like this. Each moment you spent with him felt intimate and sacred. Joker was gorgeous and all yours to admire. Without his signature red lipstick, his facial scars were more subdued and not as prominent. If you weren't actively seeking them out, you wouldn't have paid any attention to them.

You were biased of course but who cared about that? His scars took a backseat in your observation. His skin was surprisingly normal in appearance and your hands itched to touch it now that there wasn't any grease paint in the way.

Would it be soft just like you imagined it was? Scratch that. Would Joker allow you to touch him so intimately? You were sure he was going to kill you for catching just a mere glimpse.

You were so caught up in your own head, you didn't see when Joker opened his eyes and noticed that you were staring. He knew you were drifting off into lala land by how distant your e/c eyes were. He dragged a wet hand through his hair before reaching out towards you.

That put an end to your thoughts real quick. This was it; he was gonna kill you.

"Don't kill me! My favorite tv show isn't complete yet!" You screamed when Joker's hand came in contact with your wrist.

He wasn't surprised by the crazy things you said anymore. It was just a trait of yours that he accepted long ago but he did take offense to the former part of your statement.

Your other bouts of nonsense were muffled by Joker covering your lips with his own. You stopped talking and automatically looped your arms around his neck to return the romantic gesture.

Joker was such a good kisser he could quite literally reboot your thought process. It was still reloading when he pulled away to speak.

"M'not gonna kill ya sweetheart. Why would I do that?"

You stuttered trying to come up with a reply as Joker warmed you back up to his touch. The hot water pouring over his shoulder and down your naked chest in a rapid downfall aided his efforts. Anywhere that the water touched, Joker hands followed soon after. You hardly noticed him grabbing your favorite colored loofah and lathering your skin up since his kisses distracted you so well.

He cleaned you so effortlessly– like this was an everyday occasion between the two of you. The level of trust you surrendered to him was both comforting and concerning. You really did trust Joker wholeheartedly. He had free reign with your body to do with as he pleased.

'I slept with Joker. Just what were you thinking, Y/n?' You thought to yourself.

Even worse, you were actively showering with him! The aftercare was far too romantic and it didn't match Joker's character at all.

You weren't quite sure if you liked this soft version of Joker yet. It was unusual to see him so caring and eager to please. Maybe sex changed his perception of things? You doubted it.

He was still clueless about his true feelings but you could still sense his intentions in the way he barely touched your skin with each pass of the shower puff that sent goosebumps to blossom all over your body. Joker was treating you like fine china and given enough time, you could get used to being pampered but right now you kept an eye on him.

As Joker washed your upper body, you finally addressed the elephant in the room.

"Why would you kill me? B-Because I saw your face that's why! I-I know what you—" You gasped when Joker raised his head and stared you down.

You saw an array of freckles scattered across Joker's nose and you really wanted to count each one along with the long eyelashes he had. They fanned across his cheekbones every time he blinked, mesmerizing you with their beauty.

"Yeah? What about it? It was only a matter of time you saw me with-out my makeup." Joker rolled his eyes and continued rubbing the loofah down your back in soothing circles.

You hoped he wasn't downplaying the situation as a coping mechanism. This wasn't something to be taken lightly. He revealed a crucial part of himself! Shouldn't he be angry that you saw his face? You were so confused by his nonchalant attitude.

"Joker.. This is a big deal. I could go to the GCPD with this!"

He knew you weren't going to the police. He rolled his eyes at your empty threat and continued scrubbing you down. You didn't like his sass and reached up to grab his cheek, practically pleading for him to see the bigger picture here. Surely he felt it.

The innocent touch was amplified now that there wasn't a layer of white in the way.

You gained a huge portion of Joker's well guarded trust and you needed to be sure he didn't regret sharing it.

There wasn't much to focus on in the shower yet Joker found a way to avoid eye contact. Your hand felt so warm touching his cheek and it took everything in him to not lean into its comfort.

You faintly registered the mindless shapes the shower puff made on your skin as Joker washed you. His hands were covered in soap as they groped and relaxed on your body with each pass. A man like Joker showing signs of nervousness baffled your brain. You didn't like him so out of sorts and set about calming his nerves.

"Joker look at me." A kaleidoscope of greens immediately returned your gaze.

You saw the color in a brand new light these days. You were forever changed by the unusual hue. It was scary how easy you could decipher what one shade meant over another. Right now, Joker was hiding behind a smokescreen of juniper green indifference. That wouldn't do in your book.

You wanted to drag Joker into a world of acceptance. It was okay to be human. He didn't have to pretend anymore and definitely not around you. Whenever Joker was with you he could be himself and face no judgment. You tried to harness that feeling and translate it into words.

"You know this changes things between us right? We can't go back to.. w-we can't. Ugh screw this! You don't have to pretend with me anymore! I know you now. I shouldn't, but I do. It's okay to be yourself." You finally got your thoughts out and looked at Joker.

He searched your face; for what, you'll never know but apparently he found it. He huffed and dropped the shower puff to cup the back of your neck affectionately.

"I wanna know you too." He mumbled.

Your laugh chiseled away at his cold, dead heart. Since when did he get so soft? Perhaps the exact moment you tripped and fell into his life.

"I'm an open book, you know that."

But that didn't stop Joker from wanting to know more. He wanted to know you word for word, cover to cover. He wanted to immerse himself in the story of Y/n, if you'd let him.

"My favorite one." He mumbled to himself before leaning in.

He kissed you with a subdued energy, savoring what he already knew and learning each new nuance that made you unique along the way. You craned your neck back to deepen the kiss and clawed at anything your needy little hands could grab ahold of. In this case it was Joker's shoulders, still damp from the shower.

Your water bill would be extremely high this month but screw it, that didn't matter right now. Joker's mysterious aura and the hot shower blended together in a wonderful way that clouded your brain from any rational thought.

It felt silly to ever think that Joker would kill you especially since he was steering your body backwards into the shower tiles with love on the brain. You arched your back, gasping from the cold surface and Joker quickly swallowed up the sound while silently commanding you to jump up into his arms with a rough squeeze of your thighs.

You broke away from his lips hesitating, "W-What about your leg?"

His ongoing injury constantly nagged your mind. He carried you just fine out of the warehouse but that could have very well been due to adrenaline. The last you remembered he was recovering from a nasty infection.

Joker grinned and moved his hands to cup your backside before he lifted you up into his arms. From this angle you could look down into his swirling dark eyes. He thought your frown was cute and replied coyly.

"I got it checked. Doc said it needs more time to heal properly but—" Joker flexed his arms pitching you higher in his grasp. Your high pitched squeal of fright made him chuckle.

"I'm not gonna drop ya, Y/n. But uh... you're stuck with me for five more months."

Was he serious? You arched an eyebrow at Joker. Then you remembered the mutual agreement the two of you made that fateful day.

You volunteered to be his nurse in exchange for your life. Joker would rest and recover while keeping a low profile at your apartment then he would be out of your life, that is until feelings and other outside forces extended the original timeframe well past its due date. It was supposed to be two weeks tops dealing with the notorious clown. Almost a month later and Joker had fully integrated himself into your life. You couldn't get rid of him even if you tried.

Your original decision to help a wanted criminal in need clearly went off the rails but could you handle Joker for five more months?

That was enough time for him to officially move in and for you to develop deeper (toxic) feelings, not like you already have, and start adding labels to things that clearly had no business being labeled. But you found yourself unable to tear your gaze from Joker. He had a way of sucking you into his orbit with no guarantee if you would make it out alive.

You felt like Icarus skirting too close to Joker and his fervent destructive powers.

You had to remind yourself that Joker was just a temporary diversion before the inevitability of life tore the two of you apart. He was not a 'happy ever after' book troupe. He couldn't be your endgame, but that didn't mean you would waste the time you did have with him. If this arrangement was only temporary, then you were going to make the most out of every last second. Starting right now.

You wrapped your legs tighter around Joker's waist and played with a wet strand of his hair.

He desperately needed to wash it. "Wow, just five months? Whatever will I do with you?" You teased him.

You were convinced Joker's eyes glowed. "I can think of a lot of things I can do to you, Bunny." He dropped you down just a tad and you felt his growing erection rub against you.

Oh. Oh...

And he had the audacity to call you a bunny. It had barely been fifteen minutes and he was already in the mood for round two. You thanked the gods up above for Joker's stamina. Your last fling called it a night after the first round that hardly lasted ten minutes. Side note: you didn't get to cum. And here Joker was spoiling you rotten in the same hour.

You looked away, "You are seriously a danger to my health."

Joker grinned and repeated his statement from earlier. "Buuuut did you die sweetheart?"

You flushed a faint maroon and scoffed. "Yeah! My hair did! Florence is gonna murder me for not lasting a full month." You patted your braids that were being exposed to the elements even as you spoke.

Unfortunately, Joker wasn't listening to you nor did he care.

He was too busy grinding his dick against your folds and mapping out your plushy curves with his hands. You shivered when he traced your spine with his damp fingers and felt yourself grow wetter. As much as Joker liked holding you in his arms, he did need to get off of his injured leg. He spotted a seat nearby and carried you over.

It was the same bench you used to hold your candles during a nice soak. He wondered how it found its way into the shower but didn't think too much about it.

Joker sat down and plopped you down right on top of his hard on. Green eyes immediately found your gaze and for a moment– time stood still.

The steady stream of water still reached this section of the shower and it beat upon your back in gentle waves however it was nothing compared to the fervent heat that was Joker. The man ran like a furnace and his touch was even hotter. Joker continued to prove your theory of him being the sun correct and you would gladly get burned just to be in his presence. You loved playing with fire.

One day it would be your downfall.

"Lean back Y/n." He whispered.

You tilted your head and Joker admired your puppy-like confusion for a brief second before he pushed you back himself. Your startled moan was the confirmation that his idea had worked. A small jet of water traveled down your chest and concentrated straight onto your clit.

You held onto his shoulders afraid of falling over. "J-Joker!"

"I got ya.. Trust me, Y/n. I got ya." With that heated vow uttered, Joker lowered you down onto his cock. There was no resistance as his dick split you back open.

He was successful in preparing you for entry well without your knowledge. Your body was so responsive to him it was actually rather embarrassing. A little kiss here, a subtle but firm touch there; Joker could play you like an instrument.

You just had sex with Joker yet he managed to take your breath away again. The searing stretch was making you lose all train of thought. It was just too good. Your eyelashes fluttered closed and your mouth fell open in a moan that never escaped your throat.

The trickle of water kept your clit preoccupied while Joker came to a stop, fully sheathed within your warmth. He would never get used to your vice-like grip. After a shaky deep breath, he found the strength to move and slowly rocked you back and forth, groaning from the feeling.

You whimpered at the friction Joker created but he wasn't satisfied with the gentle sway. You deserved so much more. He needed more from you.

One of his hands was big enough to cup your entire back and it was a nice reminder to keep it arched. Not like you needed a reminder since the heavy drag of Joker's dick grazing your walls had your back naturally trying to snap in half. You didn't know whether to accept him or shy away from the sensation.

Joker picked up on your inner dilemma. He felt the tension in your body and also with how you clung to his shoulders with a grimace on your face.  He knew exactly what you were worried about.

"I won't let you fall, Y/n." You met Joker's gaze before bashfully looking away.

You decided to trust Joker and relaxed your body within his hold. He felt the transfer of control and for a brief moment, he almost exploited it, (he really wanted to) but he decided to focus on shifting your weight better so he could begin bouncing you up and down on his dick.

The only thing keeping you from tipping over backwards was Joker's arms and you laid on them moaning out in bliss. You felt put on display for his gaze and tried shielding yourself away but Joker read your body language and slowed down.

"No no no no.. Y/n. Don't be shyyy. Look at me." It wasn't a request, more so a demand– one that you quickly obeyed.

Your e/c met his iridescent green. "Good girl." He grinned and sped back up. After Joker said that, your brain unplugged from the socket.

You couldn't think straight with the heat from the shower and Joker's thrusts into your pussy happening all at once. Each jarring thrust up into your pussy had you gasping for air and clawing at Joker's forearms. He could see all of you splayed out in his arms and he didn't take his eyes off of you less he miss something.

Your breast bounced with each thrust and the water fell off your body in hypnotic patterns. Every inch of you was a work of art, even your moans had a special pitch to them that he could listen to for hours on repeat. Your head was thrown back in pleasure, most likely getting your braids soaking wet although you hardly cared.

You were adrift in a sea of pleasure.

Joker was utterly entranced by you and mumbled who knows what under his breath. You raised your head, straining to hear his nonsensical praises and noticed something spectacular. You weren't the only one caught up in the moment. Joker's cheeks had adopted a rosy hue like he was running a marathon and his handsome smirk was front and center even as he tipped his head back groaning.

"You.. ahh m-make me feel so good.." He canted your name like a prayer and slammed you down harder on his dick, making you whimper. "Sooo. Good." He growled.

This wasn't about gentle touches anymore. This became nothing but primal urges and the pursuit to come undone. If you didn't know any better, you would've been fooled into thinking Joker had it out for your pussy with the way he abused it for his pleasure.

Joker yanked you upright by your neck and you moaned right in his face as his other hand returned to your hip gripping it tight. More bruises to worry about later.

Joker's grip on your waist helped him maintain the brutal pace he created and he would not stop until something deep inside the both of you snapped. The distinctive sound of skin slapping against wet skin echoed throughout the glass enclosure– much louder than the shower still running. Funny how he brought you in here to get clean yet achieved the exact opposite. A shame about the wasted water though.

Perhaps he could help pay your water bill as an apology. You quoted a rough estimate in between a series of hard thrusts. He thought it was cute how your brain blurted out such insignificant facts mid sex.

He was doing a good job of making you go dumb on his cock. Joker loved seeing this new submissive side of you. There was a hot sensation slowly spreading from your core straight to your head and Joker's hand clenching around your throat made the tip of your nose tingle as well.

You would never have imagined you'd have a choking kink if Joker didn't introduce you to the idea. You wondered what other debauchery you'd discover with this madman. Hidden versions of yourself were being forced to the surface. Joker was unlocking your inner slut at every turn, why not embrace it? This was only temporary after all.

If only it weren't. Regardless, you warned Joker about your impending climax with the limited air supply you had. He didn't let up his grip on your throat just because you wanted to talk. In fact, he squeezed even harder.

He took your slurred speech as an open invitation to let go himself. He relocated his arms to wrap around your body in a fierce embrace and you sucked in a deep breath; getting dizzy off the ability to breathe again. Holding you like this was a power high Joker had never felt before. It was beyond incredible keeping you safe while tearing you apart at the seams.

His touch made you this way, no one else's. Only he got to see you writhing in pleasure crying out his name. You were all his.

You gave Joker full control to do whatever he wanted with you. That rush of control spurred Joker on to drive his dick deeper into you. He would never hold back when it came to you.

His bulbous tip repeatedly hit your g spot causing a moan to get caught in your throat. Joker felt your fingers grip his wet hair and glanced your way. Your eyes were heavy lidded but locked onto his dark forest green orbs.

He saw your tongue dart out to lick your lips and dove in. He breathed in your exhale and grinned when you chased after his lips wanting a kiss. He teased you once or twice until he granted your unspoken desire. It was a clash of teeth and tongue but the sheer desperation was felt in each lip lock.

He could taste the thought you didn't dare speak aloud. It wasn't the right time and you didn't want to ruin the mood despite your lips already parting to do just that.

You rested your forehead on Joker's and shuddered when you began to teeter over the edge. "Joker, I.. l-"

He interrupted you by biting your lower lip. He tugged at it and witnessed the exact moment your brain turned into mush. Any other thoughts fizzled away as you stared into a green void.

Maybe the heat was getting to you because you swore you heard Joker whisper a soft, "I know." on your lips before stars exploded and you crumbled apart one atom at a time.

Joker laughed as your world came crashing down. It was better than any heist he could ever plan and no reward was sweeter than watching your pleasure consume you whole.

Your body twitched uncontrollably in his hold, so he held you tighter. "That's it Bunny. L-let it ahh.. out. Breathe and give it all to meee." You obeyed without a fuss.

Joker tried to prolong his own release but your fluttering walls gripped him so tight he couldn't escape. Not like he wanted to. Joker wanted to stay buried deep inside your pussy forever but he wouldn't last another minute within this glorious torture.

He chanted praises to your name as he chased after his own climax, not once caring about your overstimulated body weeping for mercy.

Your nails left claw marks on his shoulders and upper back as you cried out for more. Like you could handle anymore. You were seconds away from a heatstroke. Maybe this was the way Joker would kill you off. This was fine. It was a great way to go. You definitely had to applaud him for choosing a fun method because Joker turning you into his personal fleshlight was euphoric.

You were a ragdoll crying on his lap as he worked himself to a peak he never reached before. He thought the first round in the bedroom was mind blowing, you just kept getting better and better.

The steam only hyphened the rush of endorphins as Joker lost the ability to think straight when he came. His lips brushed your ear and you got to hear every grunt and incredibly hot broken moan leave Joker's mouth. How utterly amazing it was to render Gotham City's most notorious criminal into a moaning mess. You would celebrate that feat later.

Joker mindlessly grinded his cock into you but gradually came to a stop after he was spent. You were grateful since the overstimulation was beginning to hurt.

The shower was still running in the background though you hardly heard it over the sound of your heartbeat pounding loudly in your ears. Joker was in the same boat, panting like mad, but he still had the urge to stroke your skin– he still needed physical contact well after the sex was over to ground him back to Earth.

You clung to Joker absolutely numb, trying to come to when he decided to let you go.

The sudden loss of him snapped you out of your afterglow. Joker slipped out of you and laid you down on the bench so he could go retrieve the long forgotten loofah off of the shower floor.

You just blinked owlishly, ignoring the trickle of cum leaking out of you. You hoped to regain brain function soon.

Joker stood under the main stream of water for a minute (secretly pulling himself together) before returning to your side. And like he didn't give you another earth shattering orgasm– Joker picked up right where he left off, rubbing the shower puff along your body and bestowing kisses along the way.

He cleared his throat when your body jerked at his touch but continued unfazed. Joker picked up your limbs to give them gentle scrub downs before moving on. He was a blurry figure focused on the task at hand in your eyes.

His actions confused you. Your curiosity couldn't take it anymore. "W-why are you being so nice to me?"

Joker glanced at you for a spell until his eyes averted back to your stomach. He avoided your question by rubbing your organic soap into your skin in tantalizing circles. You grabbed his wrist to get his attention.

Joker popped a bubble on your waist and shrugged his shoulders. "Do you wanT me to be mean, Y/n?"

On cue, a dark sinister air overtook Joker's features. You secretly loved it. You knew Joker could flip a switch and be mean if you simply asked him to, but that's not what you wanted– at least not right now. He was avoiding the point here.

This soft, doting version of Joker would take some getting used to but you didn't hate it per se. It was just.. different. A new concept. You found the energy to sit up before standing on your own two feet. Joker rose to his full height to tower over you and kept a cautious hand outstretched– ready to catch you when your knees would eventually give out.

You took a step forward and just like he predicted, you stumbled. Your Dark Prince was there for you to lean on. He did get a little cocky witnessing your weak state (that he caused) and received another glare from you.

Once you were stable enough, he quickly spun you around.

"Joker!" You slapped your hands on the subway tiles in front of you to brace yourself. If he was gonna take you again, all he had to do was ask.

You jumped when hot water hit your body from all sides in a calm drizzle. Joker had redirected the shower head to suit his needs again. Since when did he become an expert on your shower controls?

Your breasts were squished against the wall as he kissed the back of your neck and idly scrubbed your back. "You were saying?" He reminded you.

How did he expect you to reply like this? His hands were massaging your soap in with a firm touch and his tall frame caged you against the wall like a frightened animal. It was definitely a turn on.

"L-Like right now! You're washing my back and giving off soft daddy vibes. WAIT!" You looked over your shoulder at Joker's amused grin. "What I meant to say is... your hands are used to detonating bombs and carving smiles on people's faces, not washing..."

You moaned aloud when he grabbed a handful of your breasts with wet, soapy hands. His words floated into your ear.

"I don't hear ya complainin' doll." Joker kissed the back of your burning ears and slotted his hands down to your waist. He cursed under his breath and you flushed harder at his compliment.

It was truly amazing how Joker could make you feel both sexy and insecure at the same time.

His touch danced across your body like a skater on ice but you felt the possessive drags of his fingers carve into your dark skin. Underneath his sweet caresses was a man who could tear you apart if he wanted to. You turned your head and met Joker's neon green eyes again. It was literally like staring into a hungry wolf's eyes.

Your only coherent thought: You couldn't believe Joker actually covered up such a handsome face every day. And his: He couldn't believe someone as beautiful as you gave him a chance.

Both thoughts were made at the same time and both of you came to another agreement without saying a single word.

You had nothing to lose throwing yourself into this torrid affair. He would lose nothing in return. Five more months with you. Did he deserve such an honor? Probably not, but it was all he could spare. Any more wouldn't be fair to either of you. Some things weren't meant to be.

Neither of you were quite sure who kissed who first. You simply fell into Joker's open arms and the shell protecting his heart cracked open to let you in.

"We should seriously get out, Joker. My hands are all pruney."

A pale hand rose up from under the water to grab yours. Joker held your hand up to his line of sight and hummed in agreement but didn't move to exit the claw foot tub.

You had venomously complained about your future water bill while in the shower with Joker well over an hour ago. Of course he didn't relocate immediately upon your request. He had his fun showing off his meaner side and used your hips like handlebars while railing into you from behind.

You had nothing to hold onto as Joker forced more orgasms out of you. You had already passed your personal record but you'd never tell Joker that and stroke his ego even more. It became an obsession to see you come undone. With that knowledge, he would be unstoppable.

He loved extracting orgasms from you probably more than he loved watching Gotham burn.

You must've passed out in the shower since the next thing you knew, Joker had you lying on his chest submerged in the bathtub. He didn't try any more funny business here. The time in the bathtub was strictly used to clean up the mess that he made in the shower.

Your head was still spinning but you felt his hands wash you properly before he leaned back with you in his arms. Joker mysteriously kept the water hot as the both of you lay in the bathtub soaking and enjoying each other's company.

He took up drawing lazy patterns on the bruises forming along your body. He didn't mean to be so rough.. but he literally couldn't help himself when it came to you. Joker tried so hard to be gentle but you tested his patience time and time again until he finally snapped.

You got a glimpse of what Joker was truly capable of and now you were facing the consequences.

Although you would happily poke the bear as many times necessary to feel this good again. Sex with Joker was indescribable. You knew it wouldn't last so you slid your hand from his chest up into his now shampooed hair. Apparently you were the one who washed it in between getting your back blown out in the shower.

Months ago you thought that all of Joker's hair was dyed his signature green. On the contrary, his hair was a beautiful shade of brown with various hues of green running throughout it. You were dying to see its true potential, blow dried and styled. After all, Joker was an attractive man.

His choice in hair color completed his overall terrifying look as The Joker, yet for once you wanted to see a normal version of the man who terrorized Gotham. He already peeled back a layer of himself by removing his makeup. What was next?

You glanced up and was taken aback by his raw beauty all over again. Joker's head was reclined on the back of the tub and his eyes were closed, looking every bit a Greek god. He appeared to be asleep and as much as you wanted him to get his rest, (the man rarely slept) you had an urge to kiss him.

You were leaning in to claim your prize when a piercing gaze startled you.

His eyes were so warm like two cups of matcha. They displayed his satisfaction and relaxed state all because of you. You were unable to look away.

"Can I... uh helP you with something?" He asked.

Dewy fingers rose from the water and dripped down your sides. Joker must have some kind of obsession with your hips since he couldn't keep his hands off of them. He loved exploring all of your body but his hands always found their way back to his favorite handles.

"I... um. We should.." You stalled and Joker arched an eyebrow, urging you along. "We should get out. I need to moisturize." You finally mustered out.

You didn't wait for him. Seconds after you mumbled your suggestion, you rose from the bathtub and stepped down the platform towards the towels Joker set aside.

Joker eyed you like a hawk toweling off before you sat down on the wooden bench (dragged from the shower and put back in its rightful place) to start lotioning up.

His nose was hit with the rich smell of shea butter. He could watch you hum and lather your body up with lotion all day long. Not one inch of your skin was spared from the enriching moisture. You ended your session with a generous amount of butter directly onto your face. You glistened like a shiny new penny under the warm glowing lights.

Unfortunately you ruined the show by donning a bathrobe and tying it around your waist tight. That's when you looked up at Joker still submerged in the tub.

"Well? Aren't you getting out?" You laughed.

"You're the one who hopped out unexpectedly, Y/n. I was fine with just relaxing." Joker stressed his syllables again but rolled his eyes when you didn't look impressed.

He pulled the drain with a sigh before standing up, not catching your reaction when he stepped out of the tub bare naked and dripping wet.

"Sheesh.."

Joker quirked an eyebrow at you. Why were you shocked at something you've already seen and touched? It didn't make any sense to Joker but he was a chiseled Adonis, tall, mysterious and deadly in your eyes.

You cleared your throat and turned around to pout at your reflection in the mirror. Your faux locs were beyond saving. With the steady stream of water from the shower, to practically drowning them in the tub, they were waterlogged and puffing up at the scalp. You only wore them for three weeks tops.

"Great. I'm gonna have to do my hair tomorrow."

You didn't notice Joker walking up behind you but felt when he rested his chin on the top of your head and returned your gaze through the mirror.

"I can help you uh take them down.. ya know." He picked up a loc and twirled it in between his fingertips.

Your doubtful eye roll had him sighing. "Why so serious Y/n? I offered up my services did I not?"

"I wouldn't have to take them down in the first place if someone were a bit more careful while having his way with me! Were you trying to sweat my braids out?" You asked.

"Yeah." Joker said it like it was common knowledge.

You dragged a hand over your face and ignored your eye twitching. "Sure you did. Do you even know how to take down braids, this particular kind at that, Joker?"

"I can show ya way better than I can tell ya." He smirked, glancing down at your neck poking out of the fluffy bathrobe you wore. The first of many love bites were visible, a testament to Joker's insatiable lust. The rest would develop as the night dragged on if he didn't add any more. You had no doubt that he would.

Who knows how long you spent in the bathroom with Joker. The sun had already set when you two finally made it inside your penthouse and you didn't have any clocks nearby to tell the actual time.

There were a ton of questions you wanted to hound Joker with but he didn't give you a moment of reprieve to ask. How did he find you so fast? Why did he care enough to come rescue you after two weeks of radio silence? How many cameras did he have installed in your apartment, and where did the two of you stand at the current moment?

Of course you two shared a moment in the shower, amongst other things, but you were a woman of clarity. You liked important things written in black and white so no discrepancies could be found.

Five months was a big deal compared to two weeks. Did Joker really want to stay in your apartment for that long? Would he contribute anything to its upkeep? How were you going to keep him a secret this time?

"Aht aht aht, Y/n. Stop thinking." You blinked back to the present to feel Joker turning you around to face him. "I know that look from anywhere. You don't have to think about anything else, at least not tonight. You've been through a loT today. Let me handle the rest."

"But–"

He shut you up with a kiss. "Can I borrow your lotion?" His random request threw you off guard and your soft 'huh' wasn't any better.

Joker was already reaching for the bottle before your brain caught up to what he was asking.

"Go get dressed and meet back up in my room. Bring all of your uh hair stuff. Actually... whatever you need for the rest of the night. You're sleeping with meee." He kissed you again and shoved you towards the door.

In your confusion you didn't comment on his rough treatment. "Wait what? I am?"

One look at his green eyes had you turning to do as he said.

"Geez, sir yes sir." You mumbled under your breath.

"I heard that Y/n."

You heard his footsteps following yours and quickly slammed the door closed. You'd regret that later, judging by his sinister laugh.

Right now you had a mini slumber party to prepare for.

Your heart was beating wildly in preparation for whatever Joker had in store. As you walked towards your bedroom, you eyed the clock in the kitchen. It was well past midnight.

"Tch. Good thing I don't have work in the morning." You joked to yourself. Your hand rested on the brass doorknob of your private bedroom.

You wanted to trust that Joker respected your privacy and didn't install any cameras in here. But how could you be so sure? The handle was cool to the touch and you opened it with caution. A rush of cold air greeted you and the sight of pristine conditions and an undisturbed room.

You knew how you left it down to the placement of the pillows on the bed to the stack of books on your nightstand. No one had entered in your absence, at least that you could tell. And so you breathed a sigh of relief. This room was your sanctuary and you'd wage war if anyone disturbed it. Even with Joker.

It was then you remembered why you were in here. Pajamas and hair supplies. You honestly didn't have the energy to take your braids down tonight, especially after knowing it was so late. The darkness pouring in from your windows confirmed the hour. Gotham City's nightlife was thriving down on the streets below but with your current mindset, you didn't care much for it. You were beat after today's harrowing events that were slowly creeping up on you.

Not including surviving through Joker's three plus romps in the shower, a girl was tiied. But if Joker was offering to do all the work then by all means.

"Might as well change into some clothes for the night." You walked over to your closet where overhead lights illuminated a room full of racks and drawers.

Joker mentioned you were sleeping with him tonight. Should you wear what you normally wore to bed or jazz it up to try and seduce him again? Not like he needed any more incentive. Joker was quite the aggressive lover. If he wanted something, he simply took it, no questions asked.

You rubbed your sore waist from learning that the hard way. Maybe that was enough sex for the day. Your vagina would thank you tomorrow morning after some much needed rest. With that thought in mind, you stuck with your usual pjs and quickly put them on before standing in front of the floor length mirror. Comfy and suggestive but not overly so.

You knew Joker wouldn't keep his hands to himself, not after getting a taste of you. Five months of this delicious torture. Oh, whatever would you do? Milk it for all its worth.

You grabbed your trusty rat tooth comb, a bin of hair clips to part your hair, a satin bonnet, and your trusty scissors. A bag for disposal and another that contained your detangling creams and aftercare serums were grabbed before you selected an old towel to collect any stray hairs or wayward hair products. This wasn't your first rodeo.

You knew how long this was gonna take. Joker would probably tap out well before he started once he realized just how tedious this task was. You made a short pitstop to your living room to grab your laptop to work on. It would help you stay awake in case you had to take over. You were planning on it in fact.

Everything was hauled back into Joker's bedroom. You proceeded to dump everything you collected on the bed sheets. You were straightening things out when the bathroom door opened behind you.

"Is that everything?"

Joker didn't mean to startle you, he just had that effect on people. Occupational hazard. He walked past you to the large dresser in the room and tugged a drawer open to grab some clothes to change into. He should've known that would cause a commotion in that pretty head of yours.

"Woah woah now, wait a minute! Since when did you get clothes and make yourself comfortable in here? Honestly Joker! You're acting like nothing is wrong when in reality, if you haven't forgotten, I was kidnapped! There is so much I need to ask you but you're ignoring it!" You shouted.

He chose not to answer in favor of choosing between dark grey sleeping pants over a deep navy pair. He never slept in pajamas before since he needed to be ready at a moment's notice. He actually looked forward to a full night's rest again. On a real mattress no less. You were slowly domesticating him back to society, one small act of charity at a time. But back to the present.

He had clothes now. Joker wasn't the only one who went shopping last week. He hit the town stocking up on essentials he would need if he was staying with you. The original duffel bag Frost smuggled into the apartment with only a suit and two spare shirts wasn't gonna cut it anymore.

You were unaware but Joker had already moved in and filled your place with his personal effects. He didn't have much but you were bound to notice after a while.

"Joker. You need to start talking. What am I getting myself into here?" You begged him. You had more to say but seeing Joker drop his towel and step into a pair of pants had you tongue tied.

Why were you acting like you'd never seen Joker naked before? Sure it was quite the sight but still! You really needed to stop acting like a blushing schoolgirl and focus for once.

"Ah- ahem.. um as I was saying.. What did you get into while I was gone?"

Joker tied the drawstrings together and steadily approached you.

You held your ground until the back of your knees hit the bed and you were forced to sit down. Joker then stood above you eyeing you with an unreadable expression. You really had to get used to looking at his face without any makeup on. It was like looking at a completely different person.

The staring match ended when Joker averted his eyes down at the supplies you brought.

It was all things he was familiar with or could use without your assistance. The laptop however sparked his curiosity but he returned his focus back on you by picking up a lone braid off your chest.

He played with the ends as he spoke. "A loT happened in two weeks Y/n. I was tired of waiting around, sooo I made good use of my time. I did say, You'd be back and I'd be waiting. Now look at you! asking questions to things that shouldn't concern you."

Joker saw your sassy comment queuing up and tapped your lips with a pale finger.

"Ahhtt aht aht shush. All that matters is that you came back and that I'm here to stay. Suck it up and deal with being in the dark. I think it's uhh payback for leaving me high and dry for that annoying billionaire. Which reminds me.."

You gasped when Joker trailed his finger down to your neck, playing with the first hickey he made.

"How did Brucie handle being rejected, hm?"

You scoffed and batted Joker's hand away while doing your best to drown out his sinister laugh. He was enjoying the suffering of another person way too much. But this was The Joker you were talking about here. So you fought back.

"Sooo I'm supposed to ignore the fact that you're hiding things from me all because you think I'm hiding things about my time spent with Bruce? What is this? A game of tit for tat?" You offered.

"Exactly!" Joker beamed and bopped you on the nose. You jumped by default.

"But that's not fair, Joker! I'm willing to tell you everything that happened while I was gone. Are you?" You snapped back.

That seemed to zap Joker's joyful mood. You saw his eyes cloud over and become serious. Without warning, Joker reached behind you to grab the scissors and cut a few of your braids.

"WAIT JOKER! THAT'S TOO HIGH!"

He rolled his eyes and tossed the cut braids onto the floor. "It's called... shrinkage my dear. Turn around. Lemme cut the rest." He was already snapping the scissors together, eyeing your faux locs like a madman.

"No! I'm cutting the rest! You don't know how long my natural hair is and I definitely don't trust you with scissors anymore." You eyed him warily as he leaned back, clutching imaginary pearls.

"You don't trust me? I could've drowned you in the bathtub or snapped your neck in the shower but now you're afraid of scissors? I'm disappointed you think so.. lowly of me! Too bad you already accepted my offer twice now. Turn around. Now."

You couldn't argue with his dom energy.

With a pout you did as you were told, but not without an attitude. You flicked your remaining braids over your shoulder (most likely hitting Joker in the face) before opening your laptop.

The distinctive sound of hair being cut made you change that attitude real quick and apologize.

The only sound in the room was the constant tapping of computer keys and the light patter of rain against the window.

The time in the bottom corner of your laptop read 3:39AM but that didn't stop Joker from his current job nor you from getting a few more pages added to your WIP. The two of you worked in silence, feeding off each other's energy without conflict.

After Joker scared you with how close he cut to your natural hair (he was thoroughly impressed by how long it was) he made up for his blunder by working efficiently in the removal process. It was almost like he had done this before, but you weren't going to ask.

Probably another prison thing. His agile fingers unbraiding the artificial strands while gently detangling your natural hair from its hold. It was rather soothing. You kept falling asleep much to Joker's annoyance.

"Y/n keep your head up." He slapped the back of your neck with the end of the comb. It brought back memories of your mother doing the same thing on Saturday mornings. She loved styling your hair but had little patience for you if you didn't cooperate.

The sharp sting had you sitting up straight on reflex. Your hands hovered over the keyboard trying to remember where you left off before you dozed off. You were so exhausted you began brainstorming aloud to stay awake. "Uhh what's a good synonym for hot?"

"Stifling. Sweltering. You." Joker suggested.

He knew you weren't listening when you thanked him and continued typing— so he looked over your shoulder at what had you so scatterbrained. The font was ridiculously small but he knew a novel when he saw one.

"Mmm? Another L/N masterpiece? What riveting tale are you drafting this time?"

You slowly turned your head like an owl and came face to face with Joker reading your rough draft over your shoulder. The lid of your laptop was immediately slammed shut.

"I don't think you uh... saved your worK, Y/n." He joked. Joker watched you shake your head, now free, save for one pesky loc, and stand up from the bed.

You had been sitting for way too long and your legs had fallen asleep but Joker was there to catch you (again) before you hurt yourself. "T-Thanks."

Joker let go of your elbow. "Don't let it happen again." He frowned at your retreating form. "Where you goin' sweet thing? I'm not done yet."

He heard your annoyed groan coming from the bathroom.

"You and these ridiculous nicknames Joker. They just get worse and worse. I'm brushing my teeth if you must know and," He heard the water running, drowning out your voice until you spoke up, "You're more than welcome to join me!"

It sounded boring but he'd do any mundane task if it was with you. He was getting too soft. Joker sighed but made his way into the bathroom and saw you dancing to some unknown beat while brushing your teeth.

You made the otherwise messy task look absolutely adorable. He leaned against the doorframe to admire you in your natural element. It was peaceful until you tossed his long forgotten brush case at him.

"C'mon Joker! Ideally two minutes on each side if you want to keep kissing me in the future." You had spat out your paste and was swishing some mouthwash around as your hands tackled the last braid in your hair.

Joker did a marvelous job taking them down with the least amount of hair loss possible. The last piece was freed from your real hair and you shook your puffy mane out into a big afro. You definitely had to wash it tomorrow. You rested your palms on the sink when Joker walked up behind you in awe.

You saw his green eyes taking in the atrocity that was your natural texture. "I uh... that's a loT of hair, Y/n. May I?" He brought a hand up, hesitating. You eyed it warily.

Normally your hair was a hands off type deal. Only you or Florence touched it but Joker's genuine curiosity was too cute to deny. He wasn't a rude Karen in the supermarket touching it unprovoked like it was some freak attraction or a snotty nose kid who thought it was cotton candy or their next toy.

Joker was asking for permission so you obliged him. You wouldn't make a habit of it though. "You do know you were just taking it down, Joker."

"That's different. I was taking out the fake stuff. This is you. The real you." His words stirred up butterflies in your stomach.

You rinsed out your mouth and gestured for Joker to come closer. He wasted no time sinking his fingers into your tresses. His uneven fingernails worked wonders scratching/massaging your scalp. You couldn't hold back the pornographic moan in your throat.

"Ohhh it's like that huh?" He eyed your blissful face in the mirror and tested out a theory.

He intensified the pressure and was rewarded with your head tipping back into his touch. "Just like a puppy. Maybe I should call you that instead of Bunny."

And there went the mood. You groaned and backed away.

Joker frowned when you turned on the sink faucet. "Wash your hands and brush your teeth. You are so weird."

So are you. He thought. He did what you asked and begrudgingly brushed his teeth under your watchful eye.

It was nice knowing the yellow tint was just harmless paint and not his actual teeth— it was a huge turn off the first time you kissed him. You were so caught up in the moment you didn't interrogate him about it. Thankfully you came to your senses and fast. If Joker was staying under your roof he would abide by your rules. Personal hygiene was a given. You eyed his half air dried hair with a pensive stare.

Its lax state made you refocus on your unbound hair. You were too tired to wash and style it, so a protective bun would have to do for the night. You set to work throwing all of the wild frizz into a high bun and securing it with a silk scarf before topping it with your go-to nightcap.

Joker was finishing up his dental care but was distracted by watching your nightly routine. "You sure you don't wanna–"

"Nope! That's a problem for tomorrow me. I am beyond exhausted Joker. I just wanna sleep and forget that today ever happened. Again." You smirked his way, hinting at his successful method of distracting you earlier.

He smiled back and dried off his mouth with a nearby towel. He was expecting red to transfer onto the white material but being barefaced around others was something new, even for him.

He couldn't believe he trusted you with this. Just like you said, there was no going back. Joker was still lost in his thoughts and failed to hear you complain about your absent lip balm. He snapped out of it when he noticed your frantic searching.

"What is it?" Joker asked while looking around the bathroom for something he'd never seen before.

"It must be in my bathroom then. I'll go grab it and meet you in bed?" Honestly, you didn't mean to word it like a question but you were a little nervous about sharing a bed with Joker tonight.

He hardly gave you a choice on the matter but being an only child and not having any friends, you never had to share before. How would this work? Would you be the little spoon or what? Were you two moving too fast? What if he only wanted sex from you? And the spiraling thoughts began.

You jumped when Joker grabbed your shoulders. He said your name loudly to finally get your attention, "Go grab whatever you need and come to bed."

Orders. You could follow orders. You could overthink later. You nodded and left to get your balm, leaving Joker to stand in the bathroom alone. He sighed and returned to his room to clean up the mess he made and prepare for bed.

He only hoped you overcame your obvious fear and decided to join him. You weren't afraid to have sex with him but sleeping in the same bed was where you crossed the line? Of all things to be worried about, you chose the silliest thing but he accepted your weird quirks and hyperactive brain at this point.

He could only wait and hope you returned. What's the worst that could happen? So what if you didn't show?

He would roll over and catch some z's while contemplating what he said or did that drove you away. If only you didn't have that nasty habit of running away from your problems, it's what got the two of you so deep in this.... this.

What was this? A situationship? Friends with benefits (Joker laughed at that one) or was this an attempt at an actual relationship? He surely hoped it was the latter.

He would be a fool to pass up the chance to date you, unconventional circumstances notwithstanding. Joker could play the aloof game all day long but deep down he was panicking too. Should he go check up on you? Were you coming back? Maybe the reality of today's events were finally crashing down on you. He saw your mini panic attack moments before in the bathroom. What if he came on too strong and scared you away? He couldn't stomach another cool off period with you.

Joker wanted to hit the ground running with this romantic stuff and taking baths, fixing your hair, and falling asleep next to you were just a few things he wanted to experience during his short time with you.

There was so much more he wanted to do. Joker breathed a sigh of relief when you walked through the doorway wearing a sheepish smile.

"Ah sorry it took so long. I forgot to lock up and then I wanted to grab my phone and... yeah." You glanced away from Joker propped up on the headboard and already under the covers.

He looked like he belonged there. You were intimidated by his heated stare.

You shuffled your feet stalling– anything to avoid jumping into bed and coming on too eager. Joker seemed to notice your dilemma and chuckled to himself.

He crooked a tan finger, "C'mere Y/n."

You stared at it in longing. This was it. Yeah sex with Joker was great, more than great actually. That same finger urging you closer did unspeakable things to you.

But at the end of the day it was just that. Sex. But sleeping with Joker, literally, was a level of intimacy you were scared to explore. He inadvertently saved your life twice now and revealed a crucial part of himself to you. It was time to return the gesture.

With a deep sigh you slowly walked over to the side of the bed and climbed in. The plush bedding gave way to your weight and falling into Joker's arms was that much easier. You could never go back to sleeping alone if this was how couples went to sleep.

His arms were bands of warm steel trapping you into his dark cocoon. He made sure you were comfortable before throwing the covers over both of your bodies. You were rigid as a statue but quickly melted when you felt Joker's content sigh fan against the back of your neck.

Of course Joker would be the big spoon. That made you smile, then the weight of today's events hit you like a bulldozer. Your eyelids grew heavy and you didn't know you yawned until Joker cooed in your ear.

"Aww. She's all tuckered out. Try to get some sleep I guess." You were going to reply but he reached over you to hit the nightstand light, plunging the two of you into darkness.

Then it was nothing but absolute silence and the twinkling lights of Gotham City shining through the window. You had to say something. You could feel his arms subconsciously winding around you like a security blanket as his breathing slowed down.

It didn't dawn on you that maybe Joker was just as exhausted as you were. Yet you felt compelled to say something in this delicate air. Then it hit you.

You fixed your lips to finish the phrase you were trying to say in the shower. Joker stopped you then but he couldn't stop you now. It was right on the tip of your tongue, desperate to dwell in the space between him and uncertainty.

Yet the words you wanted to say never came.

[whoawardwinchester]

A Winchester Chronicle

Please consider liking, commenting, and reblogging. It fuels the creativity and lets me know you're enjoying my hard work.

Summary: You arrive at the audition for the role of Raven, your first acting job ever, feeling a mix of nerves and determination, reflecting on the loss of your husband and children in a car accident a year ago. Your performance impresses the casting directors, including Jared, Jensen, and Misha, leading to additional chemistry readings where you grow more confident. Jensen surprises you with a final, impromptu test that involves an unexpected kiss, solidifying your connection. Officially offered the part, you leave with a sense of hope and excitement for this new chapter, despite your lingering grief and medical challenges.

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Content Warning: (subject to change per chapter as this series is written) This chapter includes references to grief, loss of loved ones (spouse and children), medical conditions (PCOS and endometriosis), mild language, and a kissing scene. Please proceed with caution if these themes may be triggering.

Rating: 18+ for the whole series.

This is a work of fiction. There is no hate for anyone in real life.

If you want to be added to the tag list for this series, just let me know! Also be sure to tell me how I'm doing or request anything related to Jensen/Dean!

Masterlist

Season 4 (each season will have about 22-23 chapters, except S4 only because I have to set the storyline into motion. Otherwise, it will follow the episodes of Supernatural, with adjustments as needed.) :)

Chapter 1: A New Beginning

You woke to the muted light filtering through your bedroom curtains, casting soft shadows on the walls adorned with framed photographs of happier times. You stretched, movements slow and deliberate, as if testing the weight of the day ahead. The morning air held a chill that clung to your skin, a stark contrast to the warmth you once knew.

In the corner of the room, a small desk cluttered with scripts and audition notes stood as a testament to your newfound pursuit. You had always been drawn to the arts, finding solace in the rhythm of words and the emotion they could evoke. Yet, it was here, in the aftermath of loss, that you sought a fresh start.

You padded across the creaky wooden floorboards in your favorite pair of well-worn Converse, the soles barely making a sound. Your attire was casual, comfortable: yoga pants adorned with intricate New Age symbols and a loose-fitting T-shirt that you had acquired from a thrift store, its faded logo a testament to its previous life. A gold nose ring gleamed faintly in the morning light as you brushed a strand of long, layered, wavy auburn hair behind your ear, your blue eyes scanning the room with determination.

At just five foot three inches tall, you possessed a curvaceous figure that spoke of strength and resilience, qualities you hoped to channel into your upcoming audition. Your mornings had become a ritual of preparation and anticipation. Today was no different. Today, you had an audition—a chance to breathe life into a character named Raven, a role that whispered of mystery and strength.

The path that led you here had been winding and unpredictable. Once, you had been a stay-at-home mom to three lively children -days filled with laughter and chaos, evenings with bedtime stories and lullabies. But life had a way of shifting beneath your feet, leaving you adrift in a sea of uncertainty after a tragic car accident had taken not only your husband, but all of your children, too. In the quiet moments, when grief threatened to overwhelm you, you clung to the hope that this audition would fill the void, give you a purpose beyond the emptiness that echoed in your heart.

As you reached for the script on your cluttered desk, your fingers brushed over a delicate tattoo on your wrist—a small, elegant design that you had inked as a reminder of the love you had lost and the strength you had found in its wake. You took a deep breath, steadying yourself for the day ahead, your mind racing with lines of dialogue and the anticipation of stepping into Raven's shoes.

Today, you were not just preparing for an audition; you were reclaiming a part of yourself that had been buried beneath sorrow and doubt. With each page turned and each word spoken, you hoped to breathe life into Raven, to find solace in storytelling, and to discover a new beginning in the world of acting.

As you gathered your script and headed out the door, your thoughts lingered on the possibility of forging new connections in this unfamiliar world. In the casting rooms and on set, you hoped to find companions who could share in your journey—new friends who might become as close as family, offering support and laughter along the way.

You arrive at the audition with just 4 minutes to spare, thanks to traffic. Adjusting your hair in the mirror one last time, you take a deep breath to steady your nerves. Standing outside the casting room door, you clutch your script to your chest. The hallway buzzes with other hopeful actors murmuring lines under their breath. A stage assistant calls your name, and you step forward, heart pounding.

Inside, the casting directors sit behind a long table, scrutinizing your every move. You take your mark, trying to ignore the bright lights and the camera lens that seem to magnify every imperfection.

"Whenever you're ready," one of the directors says with a reassuring smile. It isn't until he speaks that you notice Jared and Jensen, along with another man you don't recognize, also watching you. That isn't nerve-wracking at all.

You nod, clearing your throat, and launch into your prepared lines. You stumble at first, the words catching in your throat as nerves threaten to overwhelm you. Closing your eyes briefly, you mentally push away the doubts. Remembering your months of preparation, you steady yourself and begin again, this time with more conviction.

As you deliver your lines, you focus on the character's emotions, channeling your own experiences into the performance. Your voice grows stronger with each sentence, and you feel a flicker of hope as the casting directors lean forward, nodding appreciatively.

After what feels like an eternity, the scene ends. You stand there, heart racing, waiting for feedback. The directors exchange a few murmurs before one of them speaks up.

"Thank you, Y/N. That was great. We'll be in touch about callbacks."

You nodded, feeling a rush of relief mixed with lingering nerves. You thanked them and walked out of the room, replaying every moment of the audition in your mind. You couldn't help but wonder if they noticed the slight tremble in your hands or the flicker of doubt in your eyes.

Your mind buzzed with the intensity of the performance as you reached your car. Exhaling slowly, you tried to shake off the nerves that had built up over the past hour. Glancing at your watch as you unlocked the car, time seemed to slow down in those tense moments.

Suddenly, footsteps approached from behind. Turning, You saw Jared walking briskly towards you, his expression friendly yet unreadable. Your heart skipped a beat. Was he about to deliver the news—whether you had made the cut or not?

"Hey, Y/N!" Jared's voice cut through the noise of the parking garage.

You managed a smile, trying to hide Your nerves. "Hey."

Jared grinned, kindness reflecting in his eyes. "We wanted to ask you to come back in for a moment. We have a few more things we want to discuss."

You blinked, your pulse quickening. "Oh, sure. I'll just—I'll be right there." You followed him back towards the audition room, your mind racing with possibilities.

As you both entered the room, you found yourself facing the casting directors once again, who looked up with mild surprise. Jared and Jensen exchanged a knowing glance before Jensen spoke up.

"We just wanted to say, Y/N, that we loved what you brought to the character today," Jensen began, his voice sincere. "You really stood out, and we think you could be perfect for this role."

Your heart leaped with hope, breath catching in your throat. It was hard to believe what you were hearing—after all the hard work and nerves, it seemed like your dream might actually be within reach.

Jared chimed in, his smile warm. "We're looking forward to seeing more of what you can do. Are you up for that?"

You nodded, eyes shining with gratitude and excitement. "Absolutely. Thank you so much for this opportunity."

The casting directors nodded in agreement, clearly impressed by the support from Jensen and Jared. "Alright, then. Let's run some chemistry scripts with Jared. Then we'll make our way to Jensen, and Misha after," one of the directors said, pointing to the papers on the desks.

You picked one up and read your lines with Jared. He was a natural, and his kindness made the process easy.

"That was great, you two," the director noted, making a mark on his script for the writers. "I don't think Raven is Sam's love interest right now, but as friends, it's perfect for the start of Season 4."

The writer, scanning her notes, chimed in, "Yes. Do you want to try Misha before Jensen?"

The director considered her suggestion. "I think that would be best. Misha, Jared, swap places please," he instructed, glancing at Misha in a scolding manner. "Misha, read your lines this time."

"Let's see how mad I can make them this time," Misha whispered to you as he took Jared's place.

You giggled, imagining the fun Misha, Jared, and Jensen had on set. "This will be my first season, too," Misha added as you both started your script reading together.

Misha finished with a dramatic flourish that made you laugh out loud. "Your laugh is the sweetest I've heard all day!" a producer exclaimed, taken aback. Your grandmother had once described your voice as 'sparrow-like,' often the center of compliments.

"Thank you, Misha! I don't think we need to do a chemistry reading with Jensen, unless… Jens - what do you think?" the producer continued.

Jensen had been very contemplative while he watched both of the previous readings, his expressions hard to read. "Yep. Let's do this," he finally responded after a few more long seconds of pondering.

Jensen helped Misha off the floor, "Dude, you've got to chill out," he joked. "Never," Misha responded, making his way back to the tables.

As Jensen passed by you, a whiff of his cologne caught your attention. It was warm and inviting, though not to say that Jared or Misha smelled bad—they just didn't draw your senses like Jensen did. His scent reminded you of a cabin on a rainy fall day, a surprising association that distracted you from realizing the chemistry reading had already begun.

"This is where you say 'DEAN WINCHESTER…'" Jensen motioned for you to deliver your line. "I'm so sorry. May we start again?" you asked, feeling shy and noticing your warm cheeks betraying your embarrassment. "Yeah, we can," Jensen replied. "Ready?" you asked nervously. "Have been all day," he smirked.

As you neared the end of the reading, you and Jensen reached a part where Raven and Dean were supposed to kiss passionately. Jensen suddenly stopped. "I believe we've captured the chemistry between Raven and Dean. The rest isn't necessary today," he announced, glancing at the panel, who seemed on the edge of their seats. "I don't think we saw enough," Jared joked, nudging Misha lightly. "I concur, Jared. Dean and Raven sitting in a tree… K-I-S-…" Jensen cut him off with a growl as his watch rang with a woman's name displayed.

"You're all free to go. Y/N, I'm pleased to welcome you to the Supernatural family. Congratulations!" the director said. Everyone shook your hand and wished you well on their way out, except Jensen, who was still on a heated call.

"No, I told you I was working late today. We had a new role to fill, and it was crucial that I was here for it," you overheard Jensen say. "I didn't think it was appropriate for us to be working together every day for the next God-knows-how-long," he added.

Realizing this was not a conversation you needed to witness, you quietly started making your way out.

"No, hang on…" "Y/N, wait just a sec." You nodded at him. "Yes, that's her name… Why would her name matter? … Ok. I'll talk to you later. Bye." Jensen hung up.

"Thanks for waiting. I have your schedule here. I specifically asked to give it to you so I could walk you out," he said, gathering his things and handing you a stack of papers. "Of course, if you lose these, you should have them in your email, so don't worry if you do." He pushed the door open and held it for you. "Great. Thank you," you said, scanning over the text.

The walk was silent for a few minutes. You frantically thought of something, anything to say, but all that filled your mind was how rugged he looked from the side. He caught you glancing at him. "What's up?" he asked, smiling.

"I… Uh… Was just thinking about your cologne. It smells familiar," you lied, mentally chastising yourself. What the hell were you thinking?

"Oh, it's Mountain Man by Dior, I think. Or is it Ralph Lauren? It's one of those two," Jensen chuckled.

"It's lovely," you let slip, feeling sheepish. Seriously, Y/N? Lovely? You were a fool, and you knew you'd be ruminating on this later.

"Thanks. Is this your car?" We were the last ones in the parking garage. You glanced at your watch; your audition was at 2, and it was already 11:30. Your stomach growled.

"Yeah, it is. Man, how did time fly so fast?" you said, unlocking your trunk to stow away your belongings.

"Yeah, today flew by," Jensen agreed. "Go grab some grub. There's a diner about three blocks from here that's open all night. Super handy for days like this," he said, turning as if to find his own car.

"Perfect. I appreciate you walking me out," you said, holding out your hand. "It was great to meet you," you beamed.

He shook your hand. "Likewise. See you in two weeks," he said, turning towards his car as you got into yours. Rolling down the window, you turned the radio up a little, taking a moment to sigh and process the day, leaning back into your seat. "Oh. My. God!" you whispered excitedly.

"Hey, one last thing…" Jensen appeared at your window. "AHHHH!" you screamed, heart thudding wildly in your chest.

He opened the door and took your hand to help you out. "I'm so sorry," he laughed as you clutched your chest, breathing through the scare. "I… I was just practicing, you know," you said jokingly to hide your embarrassment. "What's up?" you added.

"I know it's been a long day, and we've already done our reading together, but I figured if you had any questions you could text or call me. I also just need to see something," he said, stepping closer to you as he handed you his number. "Oh, Thank you. Let me just grab the scripts…" you began, turning towards the trunk.

He took your hand and gently pulled you closer, your face at chest level. Looking up, you saw his bright green eyes, intensified under the garage lights. "I don't know what…" you started.

"I just NEED to see… something," he interrupted softly, leaning towards you.

His lips met yours as he cupped your face in his hands, gently pinning you against the car. You moaned involuntarily. His lips were soft and tender as he pulled away, leaving you in shock. Clearing your throat, you managed, "I… um… hm," looking at the ground and shaking your head lightly.

"I didn't think it was necessary to see if we had physical chemistry in front of everyone. They'll see enough when we film through the seasons," he said, stepping back.

"Right. Thank you. That would have been… nerve-wracking," you said, sweeping some hair behind your ear. "Well? Feel the chemistry?" you joked nervously.

"I certainly felt something," he smoldered, turning away and waving. "Good night. Again!"

You watched him walk around the garage corner, finally comprehending what had just happened. It certainly didn't feel like just a chemistry reading, but you couldn't afford to think like that. You needed to stay professional. It had only been a year since your husband passed, and you still cried often about his absence. Guilt rose in your gut.

"Just get home, Y/N," you said to yourself, climbing in, saving his number in your phone, buckling up, and backing out. "Get home and breathe."

______

As Jensen navigated the familiar Vancouver streets, the soft glow of streetlights cast fleeting shadows across his face. His phone, propped up on the dashboard, displayed the faces of Jared and Misha on a group video call. The signal occasionally weakened, causing their images to pixelate.

“Jens, spill the beans,” Jared grinned widely. “What did you think of Y/N today?”

Jensen paused, thoughtful. “She was… impressive.”

Misha, in mock seriousness, chimed in, “Impressive? Come on, give us the juicy details. Did you kiss her after we left?”

Rolling his eyes with a small smirk, Jensen replied, “No, Misha. It was a chemistry test. You know how it goes.”

“But seriously, dude,” Jared leaned closer to the screen. “She seems like she'll be a great addition to the cast.”

Jensen nodded. “Yeah, she does.”

“Ah, so she's officially a part of the family now. Welcome aboard, Y/N,” Misha grinned.

“Yeah, welcome aboard,” Jensen echoed, a genuine smile on his face.

Misha couldn’t resist teasing. “So, when's the first scene together? I'm looking forward to seeing some epic on-screen chemistry.”

“We'll see how it goes,” Jensen chuckled.

Jared’s curiosity peaked. “Speaking of chemistry, how's Dee taking it? Is she excited?”

Jensen hesitated, a flicker of discomfort crossing his face. “She… wasn't thrilled.”

“Oh, jealous, is she?” Misha raised an eyebrow in seriousness.

“She wanted the part. Thought it would be a good fit,” Jensen sighed.

Jared’s voice was sympathetic. “It's tough when expectations don't match reality.”

“Yeah,” Jensen nodded, a hint of sadness in his eyes.

The conversation shifted back to lighter topics, with Jared and Misha sharing stories about their own auditions and the day’s events. But in the back of Jensen’s mind, thoughts of Y/N lingered. He couldn’t deny the connection he felt during their audition and wondered how their dynamic would evolve on set.

As he turned onto his street, Jared and Misha got off the phone buzzed with a text from Y/N, thanking him for his support and expressing her excitement to join the cast. He smiled, typing a quick reply before pulling into his driveway.

Just as he was about to open the front door, it swung open. Dee stood there, arms crossed, a tense expression on her face.

“How was your day?” she asked, though her tone suggested she already knew the answer.

Jensen forced a smile. “It was good. Y/N got the part.”

Dee’s eyes narrowed slightly. “So I heard. Everyone’s talking about how great she was.”

“Yeah, she really was,” Jensen replied, keeping his tone neutral.

Dee sighed, clearly frustrated. “I just don't understand why I wasn't right for it.”

“Dee, you’re a great actress, but they were looking for something specific. Y/N just happened to fit that.”

“Or maybe it’s because she’s the new shiny toy,” Dee muttered under her breath.

“Come on, don’t be like that,” Jensen said softly, reaching out to her.

Dee pulled away, her expression hardening. “I just hope this doesn’t change things between us.”

“It won’t,” Jensen assured her. “She’s a colleague, that’s all.”

“Yeah, well, we’ll see,” Dee said, turning away. “I’m going to bed.”

Jensen watched her go, a knot of worry forming in his stomach. He couldn’t shake the feeling that this was just the beginning of a much larger conflict. With a heavy sigh, he headed upstairs, hoping tomorrow would bring some clarity.

_____

You sit on the edge of your bed hastily scarfing down a cheesesteak from the diner Jensen mentioned, the glow of your bedside lamp casting a warm light over your open script. You glance at the lines you have been practicing for weeks, feeling a mix of excitement and anxiety. The day had been a whirlwind, from the nerve-wracking audition to the unexpected chemistry reading with Jensen, and finally being told you got the part.

Your heart swells with joy as you replay the moment the casting director said, "Welcome to the Supernatural family." This role is more than just a job; it’s a lifeline, a chance to reclaim a part of yourself you thought you'd lost.

But as the adrenaline fades, the familiar ache in your lower abdomen returns, a reminder of your ongoing battle with PCOS and endometriosis. You press a hand to your stomach, closing your eyes briefly to push through the discomfort. This is not the time to let your condition get the better of you.

A tear slips down your cheek as your thoughts turn inward again. You reflect on the last year—losing your husband and children in that devastating car accident. The grief had been overwhelming, leaving you feeling adrift, your identity swallowed by the roles of wife and mother that you no longer played.

But now, this role, this chance to play Raven, feels like a new beginning. It’s an opportunity to step into the spotlight and rediscover yourself. It won’t be easy. The long hours, the physical demands, and the inevitable moments of self-doubt will test you. But you are ready.

You think back to the audition, the look in Jensen’s eyes when he had watched you perform. There was a connection there, a spark that made you believe you could truly bring Raven to life. And even though you sensed some underlying tension, perhaps from Jensen’s personal life, you felt confident you could create something incredible together on screen.

You take a deep breath, your determination solidifying. You are ready to face whatever challenges come your way, both on and off the set. You have your own dreams to pursue, and now, a new family in the Supernatural cast to join.

You pick up your phone, scrolling through your emails until you find the one from the casting team with your schedule and initial scripts. As you read through it, you feel a renewed sense of purpose. You are doing this for yourself, for the memory of your husband and children, and for the part of you that has longed to be more than just a grieving widow.

Closing your eyes, you send a silent prayer of thanks. This is your chance to shine, to show the world—and yourself—that you are capable of great things. You won’t let your medical conditions, your past, or your fears hold you back. This is your time.

With one last glance at your script, you take some pain relievers, turn off the lamp and lay down, the excitement of the day slowly giving way to a peaceful determination. Tomorrow, you will begin this new chapter of your life, ready to face whatever comes your way. And with that thought, you drift into a deep, restful sleep, your dreams filled with the promise of what is to come.

[varyathevillain]

did not want to negatively interact with the OP from whom I got this image, but this threw me into a fit of such incandescent fury that I had to talk about it, and I do not want to make others feel like they're at fault about something AJN said, about the implication (or outright possibility) of them being used for clout, or my own reaction to this. and I also will say, this is not an objective opinion. this is me, tired of this bullshit that keeps appearing in my life despite me repeatedly trying to move on.

what a fucking horrifying quote. this does not read as someone awkwardly relating to their audience to me. this is a rehearsed, researched 'funny guy' moment, scripted specifically to pander to people who would quote and reshare this moment, and it doesn't have the care or emotional attachment to the audience that many would ascribe it. this is a marketing strategy.

Alexander James Newall and his podcasting company have repeatedly in the past worked with companies like, for example, BetterHelp. in their case, Rusty Quill have been keeping the partnership and advertising it even after the FTC officially forced said company into paying settlement for breaking privacy agreements and selling customer data to third party services (such as pharmaceutical companies and other interest groups like Facebook/Meta), then the reveal of overcharging patients for subpar service, and repeated ethical violations within the company. you cannot say that this is an uninformed choice, since as a creative interacting with their fanbase via internet, especially as a multimedia practice (podcasting, youtube video creating, streaming etc), you simply cannot not learn about the scumminess and the actual legal issues of such a company. and it's not even 'oh, they did it only once' - people repeatedly complained about getting ads from AI training software companies, other 'mental health' help companies that turned out to also have AI training software, and on some notable occasions, a Noom app ad read, which is a weight loss app that 1) had also been in court reaching a settlement for tricking its customers, but for 'free trial' payments instead of selling their data, 2) had repeatedly been in hot water with health professionals about their diet practices.

and this is the company the face of which AJN presents. he is not a quirky fellow creative struggling for podcast space; he's a businessman running a company that is manipulating its audience with relatability, and it is working. he is not with you against the rich; he is the rich. and from what I am hearing and seeing, currently producing the main running show, the successor of The Magnus Archives, of a show that got critical acclaim and over 700 thousand pounds in kickstarter money to produce the 'sequel', only for that show to barely ever appear on anyone's radar outside of former TMA fans, to be quietly discussed as not being quite as coherent as its predecessor, and even outright criticised for the voice acting and issues with audio, where even interesting conversations turn into mumbled, inconsistent messes people can't really listen to without transcripts.

We Care What We Put Name To, in-fuckin-deed.

[art-of-manliness]

5 Fast-Food Meals That Are High in Protein and Less Than 600 Calories

If you’re trying to lose weight, one of the challenges you’ll face is what to do about those times when you find yourself at a fast-food restaurant. The offerings at these establishments are typically incredibly high in calories. A Big Mac meal at McDonald’s can set you back 1,300 calories. Damn! If your calorie goal for the day is 2,400 calories, that’s more than half your daily calories in a single meal. The typical advice for people losing weight is to just avoid fast-food restaurants altogether. And with some preparing, thinking ahead, and good decision-making, you can accomplish that most of the time. But not 100% of the time. Sometimes, life throws a wrench in your plans. Maybe you’re on a road trip, and your friends decide to stop at Carl’s Jr. for lunch. Maybe your kid’s soccer team decided to go out to dinner to Chick-fil-A after the game. Maybe you’re just really pressed for time and need to grab something fast at a drive-thru on the way from work to another engagement. What to do? Well, what if I told you you don’t have to choose between convenience and your fitness goals? You can have your fast-food burger and eat it too—all while staying on track with your weight loss. When you want to lose weight, you want to choose foods that are lower in calories and higher in satiating, muscle-building protein. Thankfully, most fast-food restaurants now offer options that meet this criteria. With a bit of creativity, you can easily select meals at pretty much all the major fast-food restaurants that will give you 30+ grams of protein (which is a good minimum goal for a meal) and only clock in at around 600 calories. Below, we provide some suggestions for meals that meet these metrics that you can get at five popular fast-food restaurants. One thing to keep in mind is that while you can reduce the calories in your fast-food orders, it’s hard to reduce the amount of sodium. These are going to be sodium bombs. So they’re not great for everyday dining, but they’ll do in a pinch. Whether you’re looking to shed a few pounds or maintain your hard-earned gains, this guide will show you how to navigate the pitfalls of fast-food menus and stay on track with your goals. General Guidelines to Keep Your Fast-Food Meals Lower in Calories Before we get into specific meals, here are some general guidelines to follow that will allow you to keep your meals lower in calories, regardless of the fast-food establishment you visit: * Food tracking apps like MyFtinessPal are your friends. I use the app all the time when I’m at fast-food restaurants. Quickly look up the calorie and macro count of foods and piece together your meal with that info. * Choose grilled over fried meats. * Choose lean proteins. While you can still enjoy a beef burger, protein sources like turkey or chicken breast generally have fewer calories. * Ask for extra protein. Adding extra protein, like extra meat, can help increase satiety while keeping calories low. * Skip the fries. If you’re looking for a side, get fruit or salad instead. Also, hot take: fries aren’t that good anyway! * Skip the high-fat sauces, dressings, and condiments. Ask for lower-calorie options instead. * Load up on veggies. Satiety is premised in part on volume; calorically dense foods won’t fill you up and will leave you feeling hungry. To increase volume and nutrition, add low-calorie veggies to your meals like extra lettuce, tomatoes, and onions. * Choose water or unsweetened drinks like diet sodas. Finally, don’t be afraid to enjoy yourself with a no-holds-barred high-calorie fast-food meal every now and then. I love getting a double cheeseburger on occasion. You can just adjust your macros and calories accordingly and eat less the rest of the day. Or just chalk it up to an anomalous indulgence, and get back to your diet the next day. You don’t have to eat perfectly 100% of the time to still lose weight and stay healthy. Fast-Food Meals That Are 600 Calories or Less With More than 30 Grams of Protein McDonald’s… http://dlvr.it/TBgWkR

[veritas-rpg]

Inspired by inquiries about the types of characters that we could see thriving at Daehan University, we've compiled a list of character archetypes to spark your creativity. Feel free to choose any of these character templates or use them as inspiration to create your own character. Just make sure to mention your choice in your application form so we can update the list accordingly. That being said, here are some muse ideas that we think can seamlessly fit into the tapestry of Daehan Institute:

𖥔 ݁ ˖ The Intellectual : A brilliant intellect, possibly a top student fully devoted to their academic pursuits. They tend to be reserved, not necessarily by choice but due to their lifelong dedication to studies. This reserved nature provides ample room for character growth if you choose to explore their journey of discovering that life holds more than just academia. Moreover, they could seamlessly integrate into the Dead Poets Society, finding kindred spirits who share their passion for knowledge and self-discovery.

𖥔 ݁ ˖ The Socialite : Born into opulence and privilege, from the most prosperous of lineages. Personality-wise, they might exude arrogance, boundless ambition, and a relentless competitive spirit. With a family history deeply rooted in Daehan University, the weight of tradition and expectations rests heavily upon their shoulders. However, beneath the facade of upholding tradition lies a compelling twist — the struggle they face in living up to these lofty expectations, gradually succumbing to the immense pressure. This character archetype can effectively introduce and explore the complex web of social and class dynamics within the setting.

𖥔 ݁ ˖ The Romantic : A devoted enthusiast of literature and the arts, they possess a profound appreciation and insight into their passion. However, their ardor clashes with their family's expectations. Whether hailing from a privileged background or as a scholarship recipient from more modest means, they face a pivotal choice. Will they pursue their dreams against the wishes of their family, or will familial obligations compel them to set aside their aspirations?

𖥔 ݁ ˖ The Skeptic : A defiant character, or maybe someone who prefers the shadows. Whether conspicuous or discreet, they possess a keen perception of the unsettling occurrences within Daehan University. They dare to challenge the institution's long-held traditions, principles, or ethical standards, making them an ideal candidate for the Seekers of the Veil society.

𖥔 ݁ ˖ The Haunted : A character marked by a haunting trauma that continues to cast a shadow over their present. Perhaps they endured the loss of a beloved figure under mysterious circumstances, with the added twist that this individual was a fellow student at Daehan. Driven by an unwavering determination to unearth the truth, they embark on a relentless quest to delve deeper into the eerie mysteries lurking within the hallowed halls of Daehan University.

𖥔 ݁ ˖ The Guilty : An individual who committed a heinous crime, escaping justice through luck or connections. Now at Daehan University, they relish their second chance, but the past may catch up with them. Ideal for exploring thrilling narratives and the desperate measures they'll take to protect their secrets.

𖥔 ݁ ˖ The Fallen Prodigy : Once a child prodigy pushed to the brink by overbearing parents, this muse suffered a burnout during high school, leaving them cynical and deeply insecure. Now at Daehan University, they aim to rekindle their academic passion and find redemption, possibly through one of the secret societies.

𖥔 ݁ ˖ The Medium : Gifted with the ability to sense the supernatural from a young age—or so they believe. This muse has witnessed unexplainable events on campus. Silent and enigmatic, they hold secrets that can uncover the supernatural and occult aspects of the roleplay.

[broken-clover]

oh? Don't like Tamers? It ain't my favorite either but usually people like it, any particular reason? Or is it like me with 02, just a general dislike you can't place?

Huh, amazed to realize I haven't actually aired my grievances with it on here before. Peculiar.

So this is absolutely going to turn into a long post, apologies in advance, but the ultimate thesis of fundamental issues I have with Tamers is that it sets out to be a dark deconstruction of a 'Mons series but does very little that's interesting or compelling with it.

(Full disclosure, most of what I have seen of Tamer is the dub version. I have seen a few portions of it in its original Japanese, but not all of it. Due to that, it is entirely possible that some of my issues with the season are better addressed there- however, I have also been told that Tamers was the most faithful dub done thusfar with very little changes made)

I'll try to format into bullets for the sake of cleanliness

-First and foremost, one of the main differentiating factors in Tamers compared to prior seasons is supposedly that Digimon do die when defeated as opposed to being reborn. That's supposed to be a lot of what makes this season 'dark' but I can't help but find it flawed. Characters dying was already pretty important to the first two seasons, even when it came to the Digimon themselves- heck, Wizardmon by himself was one of the most impactful losses in the series overall, and he was never reborn due to having died in the human world. It's hard to feel like this is such an abrupt change to the status quo when it was present in the first season. Not to the same severity, sure, but it feels like far less of a brazen change.

-(Even without straight-up permadeath, the other seasons were still able to have plenty of threats and terrible fates! Even if they would come back later, characters dying was still something treated with weight and sorrow instead of being brushed off. I know it's heavily opinionated, but just having 'and then a character dies' as the end-all be-all bad end starts to feel dull and uninteresting after long enough. I feel like a similar example to this is with the dub version of Yu-Gi-Oh! Shadow Realm jokes aside, it at least offered something a little different as opposed to the more liberal use of killing in the source material. Limitation breeds creativity.)

-In general, I'm just not a huge fan of Konaka's style. That's much more of a personal thing than an actual issue. I think he tends to rely more on atmosphere and dark motifs rather than substance. It feels sort of like his style is an actual example of the mentality that 'Evangelion and Madoka Magica are just edgy deconstructions for the sake of being edgy' that is still alive today, despite the fact that both examples use that deconstruction to say something and make a point.

-(I feel that his work tends to lack a similar sense of substance in Tamers. It's also very hard to not bring up his increasing fixation on conspiracy theories and rallying against 'political correctness' and 'cancel culture' over the last decade or so. While I know those don't overtly tie into Tamers, in hindsight it's easy to see some of those themes in a slighter sense, and in general it just sours a lot of his work in hindsight)

-Explicitly making the first two seasons fictional in-universe made little sense to me. While I don't have an issue with that fundamentally, it's that it completely borks up the timeline when Ryo gets introduced later and how any of that is supposed to work just never gets explained or clarified

-Actually yeah on that note lemme skip ahead and talk about Ryo. I know sixth ranger-types that get added later are common to this series but in my opinion he's easily one of the worst implemented. He might've been neat as a cameo, but he instead ends up being a main character for the last leg of the series. He's a canon foreigner from the Wonderswan games, which only so many people would have been familiar with, but neither his presence in Tamers nor the plot of the Wonderswan titles are given much explanation to get newcomers up to speed on who he is or what his relevance is. He's just kinda here

-He also doesn't really do much to make up for his late introduction and lack of explanation. Really it mostly feels like his main role is to be good at everything, especially in regard to being the one guy that's better at the card game than Rika. While I know a lot of her character development was about learning humility, a lot of that had already been done by the time he showed up, and it feels like an underhanded way of making her appear weaker.

-The cards. I think it could've been a half-decent series gimmick, I mean Xros Wars did something similar and kept it consistent, but that consistency was lacking in Tamers and led it to feel half-baked. The cards served a purpose in a few instances, mostly for evolution, but the modification aspect feels poorly integrated and isn't really used much in the latter half of the season

-The Digital World isn't majorly developed in the story. Which sucks, because I really liked the approach they took to it! It was distinctly different from the Adventure series', being more alien and unsettling. We get information on how it was formed, but I felt it lacked a lot of punch given that we see so little of it.

-The whole arc with the Devas just kinda...stops. We get 90% of the way through and follow them into the Digital World to confront their master (or at least one of them) and then the fight just gets cut off. If we were just gonna be able to have a peaceful resolution and collaboration with Zhuqiaomon anyway why did we go to the trouble of building him up as an antagonist and slaughtering several of his minions. Are none of the Devas especially bothered that several of their underlings just died? Are we going to analyze any implications of their deaths instead of just brushing them off?

-I do love Calumon, I thought his antics were cute, but fundamentally his main purpose was to be a plot trinket.

-Kazu and Kenta were mostly useless to the plot and didn't have much character development, there wasn't much bonding between them and their partners, MarineAngemon was pretty overpowered and it's not explained why a side character is the only one to have a Mega-level as their default partner.

-There are twice as many secondary characters as main characters and almost none of them get much character development. Many times while watching I would think to myself 'why are you even here'

-I think Jeri's arc was interesting in theory, but implemented a little oddly. I felt like her main purpose in the series was to have bad things happen to her and there was a point partway through the D-Reaper arc where it started to feel excessive. I don't understand the point of psychologically tormenting a 10/12 year old for several episodes straight to the point where they try to kill themselves on-screen. She was simultaneously very important to the final arc of the series but does very little of her own volition aside from being a prisoner in need to rescue.

And don't get me wrong, there are things I think the season does very well! I liked Impmon's arc, I like the smaller primary cast allowing for more interpersonal moments and a closer bond between tamers and partners, while also giving the 'Mons themselves a lot more fleshed out personalities compared to the past two seasons (in particular both Rika and Renamon were highlights in term of character development by themselves and with each other), I like the heavier use of computer motifs, and I'm not wholly opposed to the darker tone it tried to go for.

But I think a decent amount of my dislike comes from the sheer amount of praise this season gets. I'd be fine accepting it as a flawed yet ambitious offering that offers plenty of its own original flair, but I constantly see people call it the 'best season by far' pretty much entirely because of its darker themes. I feel it tends to get overhyped for its 'grittiness' despite not implementing it all that well or feeling like it does much meaningful with that darker tone aside from using it for shock value. To me Tamers symbolizes a lot of the internet's tendency to go 'darker = more adult = inherently better than something more 'childish'' so that tends to sour my view of it quite a bit. I just wish its flaws were looked at more often, because I feel fans tend to be a lot more critical of the other seasons and Tamers doesn't get that kind of scrutiny

[just-patchy]

Glimpse | Leona Kingscholar/Yuuta Midori

Hi @bunnwich! I’m your Secret Santa >v< Hope you excuse the amount of creative liberties I took with this, merry chrisler!!

I.

For all the pride he holds of himself, Leona knows he’s undesirable.

He’s learnt it within the confines of the prison they call the palace, servants murmuring to each other when he was still too young to understand what each word meant, only that it added up to disappointment. He was a genius, but not the brand they desired. He was charismatic, but not in the bright, obnoxious way Farena was. He was a leader, but never the king, the crown never meant to grace his head despite that he’s been carrying the equivalent of its weight and more since he was born.

Others might call it depression, he calls it realism, cynicism, resignation for a future he never wanted nor asked for. Despite what his overblot would suggest, he isn’t depressed, at least not in the way he supposes others think he is. Melancholia, mourning the loss of something he never had, mourning the possibilities that were taken from him with Farena’s talent harshly highlighting the gap between them, and the birth of Cheka who’s growing to be a carbon copy of his father by the day. He is not of any worth to the palace beyond the measly title of second prince, something that the servants make sure of with the whispers behind his back when they think he’s out of earshot. But he hears them, takes their words into his damaged self, and yearns to turn their tongues to dust.

He sleeps, because it’s all he can do.

———

II.

For all the fancy words Crowley spewed, Yuuta knows he’s nobody.

His spot as a student in Night Raven College is shared with two brothers and a talking, fire-breathing cat. (He can hear Grim yowling, “I’m not a cat! I’m the Great Mage Grim!) He’s not meant to be someone who can use magic despite the cards given by Sam and the glimpses he gets during overblots. None of it ever feels quite right. He knows Sam has good intentions, but he won’t ever measure up in a truly dangerous situation, and the visions of the past felt too raw, too private for him to be witnessing.

Logically, he knows he has worth. He isn’t lesser because he doesn’t have a drop of magic in his blood, or because he’s from a world outside of this realm. But it doesn’t stop the thoughts gnawing away at his self-esteem when he hears “magicless” following “Prefect”. It doesn’t stop the reminders that he’s not from this world when he has to have some common concept explained to him like a child, solely because it didn’t exist in his world. It doesn’t stop the gears from turning in his head when his friends talk about the future because there’s so much more he has to consider than they do. Does he even have a future, either here or perhaps when he returns to his own world? He’s an outsider in Twisted Wonderland, and he may be an outsider to his own world depending on what happened while he was gone. His cards don’t tell him anything, giving ambiguous answers every time he asks Fate.

He keeps his head low and works another day.

———

III.

Leona is surprisingly…clingy, as strange as it sounded.

Even after Yuuta’s stay at Savanaclaw came to an end, Leona would be found extending a hand to ruffle their hair, or straight up kidnapping them to use as a body pillow for his lunchtime naps. He’ll smirk cheekily as Yuuta glares at him for swatting their behind in the cafeteria, or have the faintest hint of a pout on his face when they attempt to leave his embrace. As long as they’re in the same room, Leona seems to gravitate towards Yuuta, always having some sort of contact.

It’s annoying, but a part of Yuuta has to admit it’s kind of adorable. Certainly, it’s embarrassing for Leona to be affectionate in public, especially given how he unwillingly falls for the dorm head’s provocations every time. In private, however, when they have quiet moments to themselves, it’s easy to indulge. It’s comforting for both Leona and themselves. The familiarity of running their fingers through his hair, or the warm weight against their side as he naps. The way that new crystals suddenly appear in their room without notice, or the firm hold against their back when he carries them.

Yuuta can’t quite scold him for that, can he?

———

IV.

The day Yuuta discovered that damn nickname, this was inevitable.

He’s trying very hard not to look disappointed, because Epel is right in front of them with the brightest blush on his cheeks, warm enough that even he feels the hear radiating off of his face. The poor boy looks ready to collapse from embarrassment, and the fact that Leona and Ruggie are howling with laughter in the background is not helping. Even the Savanaclaw students are quietly giggling, elbowing each other to try and hold back their amusement, while the rest of the Magishift club just looked confused.

“I-I mean-! Ruggie-san told me about it so-!” The snitch. Yuuta couldn’t resist giving Epel a reassuring pat on the head, the poor boy, before stalking towards the hyena still wiping away his tears from laughing so hard.

“Hey, since Epel-kun looks up to Leona-san so much, and now he calls Yuuta-kun ‘mom’ too, does that him your son?” he sniggered, unbothered by Leona’s glare and Epel’s further embarrassment.

“That makes you the son-in-law then,” Yuuta replied without missing a beat, one eyebrow raised as they stood with their arms crossed and foot tapping against the ground in thinly-veiled annoyance. Ruggie’s face was flushed, ears flattened against his head in embarrassment, and he turned his ire towards Leona, who was closest and smiling smugly.

“Take this as practice for your actual kids, Leona-san!” a Heartslabyul member yelled from the back, nervously looking away when he turned around to look at him, his glare promising certain death. Yuuta huffed, walking over to smack Leona on the shoulder.

It won’t ever happen, probably, Yuuta thinks.

———

V.

“Ojitan—!” Leona let out a soft “oof,” as Cheka, now a growing teenager, slammed into him at full force, eliciting a snort from Yuuta as they watched the prince glare down at his nephew.

“I’ve told you, stop running at me, you damn furball,” he hissed with no real heat behind his words as he tussled the Crown Prince’s hair. The teen only giggled before he got up to pounce on Yuuta too, the former Prefect taking the tackle much better than Leona did as he gently scratched the boy behind his fluffy ears.

“Leona!” A voice boomed from across the courtyard as Farena came into view, a few servants trailing behind him dutifully. The king signalled them to stand by, before approaching his younger brother as Leona got up to his feet. “And I see Yuuta is here as well!”

Leona was clearly about to say something scathing in response, if only out of a years-long habit to be as much of a thorn in his brother’s side as possible. That was interrupted by an elbow to his own side, and Cheka’s loud gasp as matching rings glinted in the afternoon sun.

“You’re married!?” Yuuta looked sheepish like a schoolboy being scolded, while Leona only held his head even higher, a relaxed smirk on his face as he slung an arm around his lover. Farena’s ears flattened against his head as his brows furrowed, having always been one to wear his heart on his sleeve.

“Technically, yes but-“

“A wedding’s too much work. Plus, we get to have our honeymoon early,” Leona interrupted, thoroughly enjoying the embarrassed blush growing up to Yuuta’s ears. He could hardly find it in himself to be anything but shameless, albeit he could do without being simultaneously assaulted by Cheka’s whining and Farena’s nagging.

He closed his eyes and drowned them out, only tightening his hold around Yuuta.

———

VI.

It was nearing midnight. Yuuta still wasn’t in bed.

Leona watched blearily as his spouse poured over another text, reading glasses perched on his nose and the flipping of pages the only sounds in the quiet night. He wore an old silk shirt (Leona’s) and Night Raven tracksuit bottoms (also Leona’s). Tiana wasn’t coming home until tomorrow evening, and there was no other guest staying over.

Only the two of them, like the old times.

Leona scowled upon that thought. He might be greying at the temples, wisps of white interwoven with brown, but he was far from some simpering fool. That was Farena.

Still, if he were younger, he would just pick Yuuta up and forcefully carry him to bed. But he’s learnt to cherish the fleeting moments of rest between his work and parenting. If Yuuta thought he took a lot of naps back at Night Raven, it didn’t hold a candle to how much he slept on his days-off. He’s old. He’s adamant on moving as little as he needs to.

“Come to bed, Cottontail,” he lazily calls from his spot on their bed. Yuuta’s probably tired too, because they don’t question or give any verbal response, only taking off their glasses and setting them neatly on top of their book, before shuffling over and flopping onto the bed (and Leona). They give a soft grunt as they bury themselves into Leona’s chest. It’s a warm summer night, so there’s no real need to bother with a blanket.

The chirping of the crickets lull them to sleep, wrapped around each other.

[jellyfungi]

hi!

you guys can call me jelly or fungi or any nicknames you want. i was told to come here as an outlet for my horny brain so i guess here i am. i am very much a subby bottom, probably maybe pillow princess but i dont like to admit that.

i am 24, pan or just queer, i use mainly they/them unless someone wants to get creative with neos or just switching it up, i am always open for that. i am not exclusively t4t but trans people do have my whole heart and body and ass.

i am transmasc-ish, i am fine with gendered terms if they are balanced(if you lean into and stick to exclusively fem/masc terms i might feel very icky) and i dont care about terms used to describe my body, if i know what you mean we're good.

i will probably be posting mainly but not exclusively nsfw stuff. feel free to comment, interact or reach out, i always love talking to people.

"i know you can write good. which people looove on there" - @soft-moth

DNI if you are a minor, straight, terf, any other type of bigot, pls be respectful, i will block anyone that cant behave.

likes:

praise

restraints

somno

light and less light cnc

breeding

pain

note, i will tag anything heavier with #tw [topic] and probably adding to this list in the future

dislikes:

scat

feeder and weight gain/loss stuff

age play

heavy degradation

puke

tags:

#jelly thoughts - - - original posts

#jelly talks - - - answering questions

#jelly sfw - - - sfw original posts

#jelly pics - - - pics of and by me :)