#if nothing else we are PERSISTENT writers

[norcumii]

For future reference

Surprise! The first draft of Balance, story 9 part 2 (of 5 probably) is DONE!

Actually, that's a lie. This is like, the third draft, not the first. See, back in oh gods HELP WHUT IS TIME AND HOW DOES IT KEEP PASSING?????? 2014 (????!!!!?!?!?!?!), when we first started tossing around ideas for Balance and we began world-building all willy-nilly, this chapter was one of the first things we wrote as flavor. I have the original file, all 370 words of a scene that was mostly dialogue and stage directions.

I still adore this exchange just as much as I did back then, when it was sleep-deprived wildass speculation tossed onto a page to be volleyed forth as "we don't have to commit to any of this BUT HEY WOULDN'T IT BE COOL IF SOMETHING LIKE THIS HAPPENED????"

We didn't even start posting Balance until 2015.

We cleaned this bit up and added scene setting and whatnot....hmm. No sooner than mid-2016, which I only know 'cause I cribbed some details from stuff Dogmatix made and posted around then. I distinctly recall giggling madly to myself about how I was using that, with the full intent that it was a placeholder except she dug it immensely which meant win! we could easily keep those details! :D

...oooh. Oh, I bet it was when we were writing Echoes of Naboo, because parts were feeling evocative and I was feeling nostalgic and surely, surely we'd be able to get to this bit Soon (tm).

(...yeah. I know. We aren't the fastest writers in the world.)

Given all those revisions and how long this chapter has had to percolate, it's almost certainly going to be the fastest draft we're ever going to put forth, but that's cool. It's been expanded significantly and is many times better for all the changes, but the core has never changed to any major degree. I kinda miss some of the small bits we had to cut because the world we've built has some very different details than the world we initially speculated on, but that's ok. We still have the roughs, and the more I think on it, the more I suspect we actually used that imagery earlier in the series.

Go us! :D

[lowkeyrobin]

Hi, i was curious if you could do a fic where reader is the sister of thor and loki (loki is ofc apart of the VKs) and reader has something for both hades and hook. If that’s ok since marvel is apart of Disney, but they didn’t have to based off marvel.

okay I can definitely try although I don't write for Hades, but I will try! ; I also know nothing about Thor or Loki (not a big marvel fan) so I did some googling... also i couldnt really work loki in so were gonna pretend its an uliana-ursula situation im sorry ; also I do only write gn / they/them readers only so sorry ab that ; thanks for requesting, hope you enjoy! ; also this is lowkey awful I'm sorry writers block has been killing me and I'm prob going on a break soon :(

HOOK & HADES ; god

summary ; you, sibling of loki & thor, attend merlins academy. two of your friends are sadly becoming more than friends

warnings ; language

word count ; 1k

masterlist

"Don't think about it," you roll your eyes, sensing that Hades and Hook were behind you, planning something devious. "It's like you forget I'm telepathic," you speak, spinning on your heels to face them.

James, widely and awkwardly, smiles, Hades a blank expression on his face, holding his ember.

You slowly blink, awaiting an explanation.

"We weren't doing anything!" James quickly denounced.

"We were gonna scare you into teleporting away"

"Again"

You chuckle, spinning on your heels once more as they join you at your side. You rest your arms around their shoulders, a devious smirk on your face.

"Wanna play a game of Telepathy Telephone?"

"Oh, I do!"

"Yeah, sure"

The three of you sit at a metal outdoor table, Hades poking his fingers through the little holes. Hook spreads his hand out, pretending his hook was a knife -at least it's as sharp as one- as he taps it between the space of his fingers.

"Who wants to start?" You ask

"I do!"

"No, I want to. You went first last time"

"I'm Y/n's favorite"

"I'm literally a God. I'm they're favorite"

Never in a million years would you admit that you didn't have favorites because those two had you wrapped around their fingers. You'd be taking that to the grave.

"I rule the seas-"

"I rule the entire Underworld, James"

"Y/n, who's your favorite?"

"Dude, what's wrong?" You whisper to Hades, who sits next to you.

His eyes don't leave the person whom they're glued to as he mutters an answer back. "They were mocking you"

You furrow your eyebrows, "What?"

"They were mocking you" He repeats, raising his voice to normal as he speaks to them. "Hey, do you wanna say that to their face? Or no?"

The kids turn around, looking at you and Hades. He leans back in his chair casually, arms crossed, as you look confused beside him.

"Yeah. They're annoying. Maybe shut up sometime" one of them answers.

Hades flicks on his powers through his ember, his hair burning a bright blue flame, his eyes lightly glowing the same color. In his attempt to scare the kids, it kind of makes you stare at him for far too long.

Okay, that's kinda hot.

Even if you are the bullies, it was nice he was sticking up for you. It didn't bother you practically at all, as you could handle it yourself, but yeesh, this side of him was hot. You couldn't lie.

The kids turned back around, silencing themselves for the rest of the class, not wanting to be scorched to bits. He flicks his powers off, looking at you staring at him with hearts in your eyes.

"Whatcha looking at?"

You quickly look away, trying not to focus on the heat rising in your face. "Nothing," you mutter. "Thanks"

Hades rolls his eyes, knowing you found him attractive. It wasn't because of his ego, no, he'd known for months now. Though, he couldn't shake his head that someone else was in the equation as well.

"Uh, no-"

"Please. Just one date!"

You look around, trying to find a way out of this situation. You didn't want to go out with this random AK, and they wouldn't take no for an answer. You were bad at telling persistent people no.

Hook approaches, wrapping a hand around your waist. "Can I help you?" He speaks to the person.

"Who are you?" They question.

"Their boyfriend" He quickly answers, pulling you a little closer. He can feel your silent sigh of relief, the tension in your shoulders quickly dissipating. Butterflies storm your stomach to replace those awful feelings though.

The kid looks between you and Hook before quickly scurrying away. He turns to you, an eyebrow raised in confusion.

"So..."

"Very persistent" you answer, rolling your eyes.

"I see" He nods, removing his hand from your waist, butterflies still swirling in your stomach. "You alright?"

"Mhm" You quickly answer, the feeling inside slowly dissolving as his hand was removed.

He sees the look on your face, taking it as you were uncomfortable after the interaction, maybe because of him.

"Would you want to go get ice cream with me?" He asks, wanting to make you feel better.

"Uhm, sure" you smile lightly, accepting the kind gesture, temporarily staring at him a little too long in a friendly way. Eugh, you seemed to do that with everyone now.

He holds his hand out for you, awaiting for you to take it so he can lead you away. You smile kindly, taking his hand.

"Think I may love you, James," you speak, knowing he'd only take it as platonic.

"Love you too"

You, Hades, and Hook were in the Black Lagoon, messing around and chilling out during the night. Uliana, Morgie, and Maleficent were God knows where, probably having a sleepover or prank calling people.

You sit on a shell-shaped couch, all sprawled out and comfortable.

"If you don't shut up-"

You use your magic to silence Hades, not wanting to listen to him ramble on and on even more. He slaps your shoulder, trying to yet you to un-silence him.

You and Hook giggle and laugh, and do even more as you shape-shift to look like the blue haired friend, mocking him. You return to your natural shape, allowing Hades to speak again.

"You're not funny" he grumbles

"If you say so" you levitate off the couch, lazily making your way over to a little box where you kept snacks. "You guys want anything?"

"Nah"

"I'm good"

You return to the couch with some snacks and drinks, continuing the conversation about random things. Hades eventually gets up to wait for the others to get here, as they'd contacted thay they'd actually be on their way.

That leaves you and Hook on the couch, awkwardly sitting around.

He eventually speaks up, a thought wracking his mind.

"Did you mean that I love you the other day in a romantic way?"

You quickly turn your head to look at him. You think about your answer for a moment before attempting to shoot your shot. "What if I did?"

"I'd kiss you" He quickly replies.

You blink for a moment, deciding to be upfront and honest before you get yourself stuck anywhere. "Okay, uh, to be honest, I'm into you and Hades. So, uhm.."

"Ew." He quickly speaks, but then corrects himself. "Not because you're into two people, I couldn't care less. But Hades?"

You stifle a laugh. "Hades"

He shrugs. "You do have awful taste"

"Are you roasting yourself?"

"No?!"

[miumura]

HIS EXPECTED FATE — JUNGWON FF

“ one day, i will stop falling in love with you. ”

PART TWO OF (Y)OUR EXPECTED FATE. ( READ FIRST ? )

SYNOPSIS Jungwon was going to try to move on—he had promised you. But, with his new career choice, he found himself writing books about his past lifetimes with you. As he convinced himself it would help as he could finally “let go”, you just had to come stumbling into his life again…after all, promises are sometimes meant to be broken.

( 🗝️ ) THE PAIRING author!jungwon x fem!reader

𓍼 WARNINGS character death, mentions of injuries (blood), use of petnames (my love + dearest), profanity (barely)

⌞ + ⌝ GENRE doomed immortal x mortal, angst, fluff-ish?

♡⸝⸝ WORD COUNT — 2.6K+ ( 2694 WORDS )

AUTHOR’S NOTE FINALLY part two is here !! i just loved part one too much so i had to let it get its moment one more time ( yes , we have favs around here !! ) writer jungwon is to DIE FOR and ugh, i just might write a long fic based on that idea SOLELY for my own satisfaction so yeah the wheels r turning in my head as we speak 🤍 but i hope you enjoy ^^

Jungwon should’ve known.

Each step echoes in the hollow corridors of his mind, a haunting reminder of the cruel cycle of fate. Your fragile form lies before him, a mere whisper of the vibrant soul he once knew. "YN!" he cries out, his voice choking with anguish as he gathers you into his trembling embrace.

With his eyes blurred with tears, he notices how you looked up at him, life escaping from you within the minutes, or even seconds you had left.

Through tear-streaked eyes, he watches as your gaze meets his, a bittersweet reflection of love and loss. "Jungwon..." your voice is but a fragile whisper, fading like a distant echo.

“Why are you still smiling?” His voice trembled, his fingers caressing the side of your face as if he was trying to remember every detail about you into his memory.

How could you still smile so beautifully during your final moments?

Searching into your eyes for answers, he notices you trying to speak to him. Yet, instead of words, trickles of blood start escaping your lips, only intensifying the moment. “Take your time, YN…” His voice quivers as he tenderly brushes away the blood that mars your once radiant face.

Looking at your current state, he knew time was no longer a factor. Still, those words spill from his lips, a feeble attempt to offer comfort to both you and himself.

"I'm always here for you, remember?"

"I'm sorry," you murmur, your voice barely audible above the relentless march of time.

As the weight of your apology hangs heavy in the air, Jungwon's heart clenches with a mixture of sorrow and regret. "There's nothing to apologize for," he whispers, his voice barely audible amidst the suffocating silence of impending loss. “I should’ve done more.”

"You've done what you could. I was the stubborn one," you reassure him, your words a soothing balm to his troubled soul.

"I still could've tried harder," he persists, unable to shake the burden of guilt that weighs heavily upon him.

"Stop blaming yourself, my dearest," your pet name pierces through his turmoil, a reminder of the depth of your connection.

How many more times would he hear it before you slipped away?

“Listen, can you do me a favor?”

“Anything you ask, I’ll do it.”

“Anything?”

“Anything, my love.”

“Pursue in something else in your life. Something that isn’t me.”

"How?" Jungwon's tone is laced with uncertainty, his mind grappling with the thought of creating a new path without you by his side. He’d always believed that you were the person he needed to have to live peacefully. But, the more he thought about it, the more he had led himself to the most painful goodbyes he’d forever remember.

"I know you can do it. You've spent so much time searching for me, knowing that I won't remember a single thing about our past lives—isn't that right?" Your words striked something within him, a painful reminder of the futility of clinging to pasts that can never be reclaimed.

"Try to change your fate," you urge, your voice tinged with hope.

"I can't see a life without you—even if you're in different bodies, or lives—I need you," Jungwon confesses, his desperation laid bare for you to see.

"You're..." you cough out, a sudden wave of panic flooding through him. "You're only going to keep hurting yourself."

“But—”

"Jungwon. Please," you implore, your voice barely above a whisper yet filled with unwavering determination.

"Okay," Jungwon concedes, his resolve crumbling in the face of your earnest plea.

"Promise me," you insist, your hand trembling as you extend your pinky towards him, a silent vow of mutual understanding and commitment. Despite your weakened state, your arm strains to support your hand as it reaches out to him.

Jungwon clears his throat, his own hand trembling as he interlocks his pinky with yours. A fleeting smile graces your lips, a final testament to the love that binds your souls together.

"I love you, my dearest," you whisper, your words a tender farewell as the grip of your hand on his begins to loosen.

Tears stream down Jungwon's cheeks uncontrollably as he watches you slip away, the echoes of your parting words resonating within his shattered heart. No matter the amount of lifetimes he has gone through, he could never get familiar with the pain he’d experience when losing you.

The only thing that was different was the thought of him finally wanting to take your advice seriously. After all, he did make one last promise with you.

“I love you too, my love.” he whispers, his voice choked with emotion as he finally surrenders to the overwhelming tide of grief.

“I’ll try my best.”

Sinking into his chair, Jungwon's gaze drifts across the scattered stacks of notebooks adorning his desk. With a flick of his wrist, he switches on the desk lamp, its soft glow casting a comforting aura over the room as he reaches for the nearest notebook within arm's reach.

With pen in hand, he begins to jot down the fragments of ideas swirling in his mind. As the words flow effortlessly onto the paper, he can almost feel the weight of his burdens lifting, if only for a fleeting moment.

Dropping the pen onto the desk, Jungwon stretches his cramped fingers with a small groan, the fatigue of sleepless nights finally catching up to him. Adjusting his posture, he straightens his back and pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, the lenses reflecting words he had written in such a short amount of time.

Writing the last sentence, Jungwon closes the notebook with a sense of accomplishment, a faint smile gracing his lips as he flips through the pages one last time before setting it aside. It was one of the fifth notebooks he had put aside for this book—one of the books he’d spent so much of his time in because you had told him to follow his dreams.

So, he took it to heart, and he seriously never thought he’d be so committed until he finally managed to publish a couple of books of his own.

Finding himself in one of the bookstores, he found himself staring at one of the copies he had made. The countless hours spent hunched over his desk, the sleepless nights fueled by caffeine, and sheer determination had finally paid off.

Stepping closer to the display of his book, Jungwon feels a surge of pride swell within him as he runs his fingers over the glossy cover.

This couldn’t have been possible if it weren’t for your words.

Just as Jungwon is about to place the copy back onto the shelf, a voice startles him from his reverie. "Oh, you like that author too?" The sound of the voice breaks through the silence of the bookstore, drawing his attention to the person standing beside him—a cheerful stranger whose presence catches him off guard.

As he recovers from the sudden startlement, Jungwon's shock only intensifies when he realizes who is standing before him.

It's you.

You've been reincarnated, your familiar presence sending a shiver down his spine.

Quickly averting his gaze, Jungwon feigns casual indifference as he shifts his attention back to the shelves. "I was just curious, that's all," he replies with a slight nod, his heart pounding with a mixture of disbelief and longing.

Though he knows that you cannot possibly remember the countless lifetimes you've shared, the mere sight of you was overwhelming him. It was as if you knew, and you were simply mocking him for his misery.

“Oh, cool.” It would’ve been cool if he didn’t happen to bump into you now, especially since he tried his absolute hardest to not go out looking for you again. But, fate seemed to have their plans, and brought you to him like it was nothing.

“I didn’t know they released a new book—did you?”

“I’ve heard about it, that’s why I went to check it out.” he continues, his gaze fixed on the books before him as he struggles to maintain his composure. Despite the casual tone of the conversation, every fiber of his being longs to reach out to you, to hold you close and never let go. But he knows that such desires are futile, destined to remain unfulfilled in the cruel dance of fate.

He can’t fall for you again.

“Mind telling me what you heard about it? I’m quite curious as well,” Jungwon's heart races as you scoot closer to him, his pulse quickening for several reasons. It's been a while since he last saw you, and the sudden proximity is enough to make him feel flustered, a jumble of conflicting emotions swirling within him.

"Well, it's about a knight and a sorcerer," he replies with a bitter smile, carefully masking his true feelings behind a facade of casual indifference. After all, he can't afford to reveal his true identity as the author—not when he's spent so long hiding it from the public, especially for moments like this.

"Is that so?" you hum in response, your curiosity piqued as you peer over his shoulder to catch a glimpse of the book in his hands. Jungwon's shoulders tense up, unsure of how to navigate this unexpected interaction. Should he reveal his secret to you, or continue to play along with the charade?

"It's quite different as the male lead is convincing the female lead to stay with him—oh and I forgot to mention, the female lead is a knight," Jungwon remarked, his enthusiasm evident in his tone.

"Wow, that's kind of badass," Jungwon chuckles, momentarily forgetting his unease in the warmth of your reaction.

"She certainly was," he responds almost instinctively, before catching himself with a slight frown. "...from what I heard, that is," he quickly adds, cursing himself for the slip-up. He can't afford to reveal too much, not when his true identity as the author must remain hidden.

"What do you mean he was trying to convince her to stay though? What happened?" you inquire, effortlessly steering the conversation in a new direction. Jungwon feels a wave of relief wash over him at your gentle redirection, grateful for the sudden change.

"Well, since he's immortal, he had finally figured out a way for her to stay," Jungwon recalls, his voice tinged with a hint of melancholy. "But, she refused. And even with his pestering, nothing could convince her."

"Yikes—this author hates seeing people happy, huh?" you remark sadly, your empathy for the characters noticeable in your tone. "They always manage to write something sad, I feel bad for the characters."

Jungwon chuckles at your words, though there's a hint of sadness underlying his amusement. It's not that he hates seeing people happy; rather, he's grappling with his own memories, desperately trying to come to terms with the past in order to find solace in the present.

"It seems so," he finally manages to say, his voice betraying none of the turmoil raging within him. "But, you know, I haven't read the whole thing. It could have a good ending, who knows," he adds optimistically, though he knows all too well the outcome of that particular fate.

"I like the creativity though, I wouldn't have imagined this," you remark, your admiration for the author's imagination evident in your words. And as Jungwon listens to you speak, he finds himself drawn to the warmth of your presence, fully knowing he shouldn’t be.

He would only hurt himself again.

As silence envelops the room, Jungwon finds himself lost in his thoughts, the weight of his past with you casting a shadow over the present. But then, your voice breaks through the quiet, pulling him back to the present moment.

"I don't blame her though—I would've done the same," you added, your words tinged with understanding and empathy. Jungwon's gaze shifts to you, his heart aching at the familiarity of your smile. It's a bittersweet reminder of the lifetimes they've shared, each one leaving an indelible mark on his soul.

Meeting your gaze, Jungwon is struck by the overwhelming sense of deja vu that washes over him. Your face, so achingly familiar, holds a mirror to his memories—the way your hair falls in gentle waves around your face, the curve of your smile, and the moles that adorned your skin.

Your moles.

As Jungwon's gaze lingers on the moles scattered across your face, he can't help but feel a surge of nostalgia wash over him. Each mole seems to hold a memory, a testament to the countless kisses he had left upon your skin in your previous lives.

The urge to wrap his arms around your waist and kiss each mole floods Jungwon's senses, a longing that was meant to be fulfilled every lifetime. His heart falters, torn between the overwhelming love he feels for you and the bittersweet ache of your shared pasts.

You are just too pretty, he thinks, his breath catching in his throat as he struggles to contain the flood of emotions threatening to consume him. In that moment, you are more than just a familiar face—you are a living, breathing reminder of everything he has ever loved and lost.

He knows no matter how many lifetimes may pass, you will always hold a special place in his heart.

"Why?" Jungwon asks, his voice tinged with a hint of desperation as he searches for answers in your words, hoping they will provide solace for the choice you made to leave him in your past life.

"Living on forever doesn't seem like a good thing. It could get boring, so I would understand the female lead's thoughts. After all, not knowing the outcome of your life could only push you to work harder, no?" you respond, your words carrying a wisdom that resonates deeply within him.

"Even if it meant staying with your lover?" he presses, his heart pounding with anticipation as he awaits your response.

"Even if it meant staying with your lover," you affirm, your gaze unwavering as you meet his eyes.

Hearing your words stings, but Jungwon finds himself strangely grateful for the insight they provide into your perspective. They were all too familiar, and it was as if you meant to give him that reminder in every life of yours.

Perhaps he had always viewed love through a narrow lens, assuming that staying together for eternity was the ultimate expression of devotion. But now, as he reflects on your words, he realizes that love is as much about understanding and acceptance as it is about passion and commitment.

"I see," he murmurs softly, the words heavy with resignation yet tinged with a newfound sense of understanding. Maybe, just maybe, he should stop chasing after a love that may never be fully realized. "I understand, thank you."

Just as he is about to turn away, ready to take the first steps towards letting go of his past, he feels a tug on his sleeve—a gentle reminder that some bonds are too strong to be easily broken. Turning back to face you, Jungwon is surprised when you hand him a piece of paper. Confusion flickers across his features as he accepts it, watching as you walk away with a smile.

Opening the paper, his eyes widen in surprise as he reads the number scrawled across it.

"You're cute – call me? :)"

The boldness of your gesture catches him off guard, but a warm feeling spreads through him nonetheless.

Chuckling softly to himself, Jungwon realizes just how much he has missed you. Despite the promise he made to himself to let go, he finds himself unable to resist the temptation of reconnecting with you.

After all, you in your previous life never managed to keep your promises either.

With a sigh, Jungwon inputs the number into his phone, a mix of apprehension and excitement coursing through him. Perhaps, he muses, promises aren't always meant to be kept—at least not when they stand in the way of finding happiness and connection with someone he cares about.

Sending the first text, Jungwon felt like this was bound to happen.

As if it was his expected fate.

💬 : 🥸

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[recent-rose]

heres the thing abt kairi. i don't think she's poorly written, i think she's poorly executed. like there's a conflict/lack of cohesive vision for her and they're trying to shoehorn her into a role she does not fit.

nomura, from kh1, has clearly always wanted kairi to remain a link to the past/manifestation of fond memories of childhood/like a bittersweet hometown that isn't quite the same when you come back as an adult. that's the role he has consistently, persistently assigned to her. and there's nothing wrong with that. not every character ever has to take an active role and be a hero and do Things. sometimes characters exist to embody an allegory, or symbolism, or an idea. that was kairi, initially. embodiment of home, safety, comfort, childhood. for that matter, riku was the future, the unknown, growing up and letting childhood go. sora, of course, a boy coming of age and being torn between the two.

so consequently i've never understand the choice to make her a keyblade wielder when she's already a princess of heart twice over. like it or not the princesses of heart have an established role in the story and it's not fighting on the front lines. she could have been a leader and taken an active role in her own way if they really wanted, without ever needing to hold a keyblade and be a Chosen One, Also!(tm). in this way she also would have maintained a cohesive narrative role in the story. her path would still be diverging from sora's, and it would be as bittersweet and nostalgic as it was in kh1 without the clownery than her involvement in endgame kh2 onward has been mired in.

what clownery, you ask? kairi literally cannot grow as a person while in sora's orbit. we've seen it happen again and again, any growth she gets is away from sora and any time she's near him she regresses as a character. this is because, again, she is absolutely cemented in the minds of the writers as The Nostalgic Past that sora is holding onto. in the context of the kh narrative, she can literally be nothing else to him. there's no more growth to be had between them. hence, every time their relationship ends up the focus in a scene you can't help but feel the rapidly growing distance between where they once were vs where they now are as individuals. this relationship can, imo, ONLY be regressive to both of them in the context of kh's overarching narrative where kairi is constantly (and overtly) being framed as Sora's Idealized Childhood. or, as a prize he 'wins' when the story ends. the two are fairly connected in kh.

back on track, having kairi remain a princess of heart and not a keyblade wielder also would've solved the problem of the writing team having to shelve/fridge her every time they want riku+sora to go on another romantic getawa - uhhh adventure together. like she was asleep for a year post kh3? and now she's going to train with aqua while riku goes to rescue the love of his l - i mean bestest best boy friend again? you're joking.

it just stinks of trying to girlbossify a character so she can 'keep up' with her male counterparts in the eyes of media illiterate consumers who associate a lack of a weapon with a lack of power. dawg we're past that. female characters can be relevant, important, interesting and powerful without following in the exact footsteps of their male counterparts. and this is to say nothing of kairi's keyblade bequeathing being a relative accident and how it creates a pretty glaring plot hole because somehow xion and roxas, sora's nobodies, can wield keyblades at will but namine can't? okay. yes, perhaps we just haven't been 'shown' her wielding a keyblade. maybe. but i think it seriously indicates that they had no intention of making kairi a keyblade wielder in the first place.

and don't get me wrong, if they intended on changing/overhauling her role going forward i would understand making her not just a wielder but a guardian of light. problem is, they have already established she's not going to be fighting/active in the next game. she is, yet again, the home they are returning to and not the future they're moving towards. this, consequently, will continue causing some major tonal dissonance among those who either consciously or unconsciously recognize that kairi is not meant to be where she is currently placed in the narrative. she's SHOWN to be just a regular girl who still to this day does not particularly want to go adventuring, and yet we're TOLD again and again that she's a warrior now, riding on sora and riku's coattails regrettably. it's just so tonally off.

[direquail]

My specific read on John is not that he's a nice guy, either. It's that, like any good character (specifically a tragic character, which, TM has said that he is modeled on a mythical tragic hero, so) he has a flaw that dooms him. And what that means is, when he has the choice to change what he's doing, that flaw either prevents him from taking the option he's aware of, or prevents him from being aware that there is another option altogether.

And so as a writer, what I look for are moments where either:

something good about a character becomes an excess that harms themselves or others

we receive information that shows a persistent blind spot a character has

we look for times when a character gives their view of the world/a situation and it Does Not Match Up with reality, or is hinted that it doesn't

we look for evidence of something simmering under the surface that clashes with their outward, agreeable presentation

What fills that role for John?

Yep.

When this first pops up, it's pretty easily dismissed as yet another layer on the falsehood he's propped up. Admittedly, he's been doing it for ten thousand years, so it's probably got a few layers to it.

However:

This one, to me, gives us a hint about what John is blind to: That his friends see his vindictiveness and his failings and that they could still love him. This is where it crosses into tragedy, for me; where his own inability to forgive blinds him to the capacity that other people have for generosity--and so, to a world where "justice" means more than "vengeance for the dead".

And this illuminates the whole chain of events that leads him to that climactic scene in Harrow the Ninth, telling Mercy that she never would have forgiven him anyways:

John is, at heart, deeply angry--like most characters in the series, and like a lot of people who grew up in poverty, especially if they managed to escape it. He also has some deep sense of justice, and deep sense of judgment.

So we have this cycle of related emotions and ideas: Justice, judgment, outrage. And a human measure of selfishness, amorality, double standards, etc.

In one situation, this allows him to throw himself completely into the cryo project, something that (if it hadn't been sabotaged politically) could have made a difference to humanity. He brings in people who work to make it even better, who demonstrably want to make the outcome as just and humane as possible. It's also implied that this is part of why he received those powers; "I chose you to change."

(And, I'll be honest, one of the other things that I see that chafes me is the implication that there was nothing about John to recommend him to the Earth. I'm actually of the opinion that there was; she chose him, and I don't think she just rolled a d100 or drew a card off a tarot deck and called him up. John is also still a human, flawed person.)

Then, the situation changes. It's no longer an issue of dedicating expertise to solve a problem; this is a political issue, and specifically of rich people using their resources to shift outcomes towards the one they think will benefit them the most, that will secure their survival, explicitly at the expense of everyone else.

And their strategy is, profoundly: short-sighted and unnecessary (pooling resources would help create a better outcome for everyone, including the rich, by reducing global trauma and preserving more of the systems that already structure their world); bigoted and uninformed (many rich people think that the world has to be a certain way, generally that the world is violent, competitive, dog-eat-dog, etc., and someone has to be "on top", and there will always have to be a loser, or lots of losers); and utterly cruel, unjust, and pointless.

And John--John, who grew up poor, who grew up aware of the despair around him and the injustice of his position and more than likely made use of that anger to achieve what he had up to this point--John is so angry.

Because they're all the same. They're all the same. It's the same song, over and over again, no matter how stupid and pointless and unnecessary. He is certain, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that it doesn't have to be this way. He passes judgment.

But John is losing to them, because he doesn't have the resources they do. He can hate them and fight them all he wants, and it doesn't matter, because he's nowhere near in the same league as they are politically.

And then, after the cryo project is cancelled, he gains his powers.

The thing about anger and judgment is that the deeper it runs, often, the more invested the person who holds that anger in themselves is in not seeing what they hate in themselves. E.g: John has conceptualized the people he's resisting as fundamentally unjust, cruel, amoral, and bigoted. There's a very good chance--to different degrees, depending on the person--that becoming aware of similar traits in himself might wake up those feelings he has towards those other people--aimed at himself (that is, cognitive dissonance). He can't see the things he's passed judgment on in himself and function. He's not like them; he's trying to fix things, to bring about justice.

Of course, there's justice as in "living in a just society", and justice as in "justice for the dead". But that's a later realization, because right now, everyone is still alive.

So John hides those parts of himself; from himself, from other people. So thoroughly he can exclude it from his consciousness and pretend it doesn't exist. He thinks no one sees the real depth of his own rage, his own cutthroat pursuit of a solution. And then, when he can't pretend it doesn't exist, he can still pretend to be the man he thinks they need him to be. He can "fool" them. He can say--he's trying. He screwed up. He doesn't know what he's doing.

And then, Casseiopeia says, No, actually, we know you, and we know you're horribly vindictive. And we're on your side--we're on the same side--our fight is your fight--and we love you. But your drive for revenge is seriously limiting your ability to imagine and create a living, just world, and that's what we're fighting for. Remember? That's what we set out to create.

And John's brain can't quite handle this; he can't imagine that they could actually see him and still be on his side. Because he couldn't see that and still be on his side. He can't forgive; he can't imagine forgiveness.

He can't see the things he's passed judgment on in himself and function.

And, by this stage, in some ways, it's already too late to change course. But this is one of several "come to Jesus" (no pun intended) moments where John could become aware of alternatives, or could change his behavior--and doesn't.

And I think this is where we get that self-awareness from, the thing that makes him creepy and tragic but also infuriating: He is aware, but apparently that's not enough to stop him from being his worst self--so is he just pretending to be moral? Capable of making different choices but choosing not to? And the weird statements he makes later:

This is, imo, not a power-hungry dictator who genuinely doesn't care about the cost of his throne, or a gleefully predatory abuser. This is a dude who's committed to a course of action and doesn't feel great about it. This is a guy who has violated his own sense of justice and has to live with it.

This is a guy who set out to save the world, killed it, and now the only thing that's left to him is to avenge it.

And like, from a mythology standpoint, that is exactly what the Erinyes are, like the Furies and Alecto. They are not the justice of Apollo or Athena. They are screaming for blood. They are hunting their quarry to the ends of the universe. They are chthonic.

Again: This isn't what Cassieopeia or Christabel said to him. This is what John has said to himself. This came from him. This is a reflection of what he believes.

And it encapsulates, exactly, why he erased their memories. Why he took away their agency.

The difference between him and many, many people is he had the power of a god and no one to check him when he was struggling with his own worst impulses. And then, he created a world where no one could, not just because then he could do what he wanted and pretend to be kind and loving and moral, but so that he would never have to lose the love of the people he needed.

Because, unfortunately, he still needed them.

It just took ten thousand years for the lie to unravel.

[th4tsj4zzy]

hoo boy im boutta get controversial

only 50 notes in and im starting to post stuff abt hsr controversy >:) this’ll be about the sparkle/ratio being racist controversy for the first + second part of hsr’s trailblaze mission for penacony

TW: slavery, slurs, racism, “death” (suicide..? 2.1 hsr quest makes this make sense) spoilers for penacony’s 2.1 quest below the cut

ofc, when sparkle was degrading aventurine for being sigonian, i reacted how a lot of people did and was like “cheese and rice, thats kinda racist dude, wtf-“ i was pretty worried bc hoyo’s had a history with not handling racism in plotlines well (see: eremite world quest in genshin) but i wanted to stay optimistic bc theres a different team working on hsr and maybe theyll be better at handling racism in plot. but honestly? after playing the second part of the penacony quest, i really think that they handled the entire thing pretty well.

probably 50% of penacony’s 2.1 quest was aventurine’s backstory, how being enslaved affected him, his family, and the culture of the avgins/sigonians (specifically the latter). his “all or nothing” nature clearly reflects the fact he’s used to betting everything (despite being paranoid about it since he quite literally lost everything before being taken in by the [pretty] ipc [woman, jade]) bc it makes him seem confident and gives him an image of carelessness, benefiting him in the long run of scheming. the only reason im able to draw this many conclusions about him is because of the amount of character development they give him in the quest.

ofc, im not trying to say that sparkle’s (and “ratio’s”) racist remarks were justified; to put it lightly, they’re leaning into a darker shade of morally grey, even without knowing their purposes for saying such stuff. however, i do think that them being racist to aventurine is a major part of the world building for HSR. him being on the receiving end of their criticism makes us suspicious of everyone else, but also makes us root for him a bit, which helps balance out the scales of distrust and/or dislike the viewer should have of all of the characters. in the beginning of the quest, aventurine’s probably receiving a lot more of the dislike/distrust than the other characters, so we need to at least find a reason to root for him if the writers want us to understand his schemes.

also, sparkle being racist to aventurine for being sigonian and him persisting through all of the hardships his plans and his past bring (despite 85% of it being for the ipc and the other 15% for the mere chance to see his family and find the truth, the latter mattering more than the former) is a narrative that brings tears to my eyes. it resonates with me as a minority race, and im sure many others can understand why.

sure, sparkle used a slur for the real life alternative for sigonia and ratio brings up his past as a slave. we all recognize its not right for her to do that and that the writers are pretty harsh for writing the slur in, but its just the same way in the real world. the writers are just showing us reality in a video game. death and murder and enslavement is really harsh that also reflect the real world, yet they also include it. are we really gonna act like saying a slur is above killing people?

[imagine-a-life-like-this]

Accidentally In Enemies : Part 3 (S.CB)

Word Count : 2.7k

Warnings : swearing, breakup, food, heartache, angst

A/N : Just the epilogue left now! I'm sorry it took so long to get this part out but I ended up hitting major writer's block with this part. Hopefully the epilogue won't take long to get out so I can start posting the next series soon after the poll is finished!

            It felt like the beginning again. The first day that San broke up with her. She woke up the morning after the dinner, everything processed in her brain, and she didn’t want to get up. Wanted to waste away in bed. Re-reading texts between them, wondering when things went wrong. Scrolling through pictures she had yet to delete, wishing for those days to come back. When they looked so happy together, so in love.

            But Changbin refused to let her waste away in bed. Showing up at her house every single day. He didn’t let her sit with her thoughts for too long, always having something to say. Makes sure she takes care of herself. Helping her realize that this wasn’t the end of her love life, just the end of this chapter.

            She had gotten used to having him around. Expecting him to be knocking at the door at the same time each day. She would find herself pulling herself out of bed to get ready for his arrival. Having a shower, getting dressed, doing her makeup. Why am I trying to impress Changbin? She would find herself thinking. But his knock would pull her from her thoughts, and she wouldn’t think about it until the next day. A cycle. A routine. It’s been so long since she had a routine like this.

            A routine that didn’t seem boring. A routine that had her excited for each day. Changbin helped her find excitement and happiness in each day. Just by being around. She went from absolutely hating him to craving his time and attention. Waiting for classes to be over so she could see him again.

            Until it all seemed to crumble around her.

            The day started the same as it always did. With her getting ready, wondering again why she was trying to impress Changbin. And then he knocked on the door, pulling her from her wandering mind. But when she opened the door, her smile fell, and she was met with Choi San. She went to close the door, but he stopped her, slamming his hand on it, and pushing it back open. “I just want to talk.”

            “Everything has been said and done, San. Let’s face it. Our relationship was over long before the breakup. I realized that recently. I’m over it.” She goes to close the door again, but he stopped her again.

            “You said your piece, can I please say mine?” She stood there, staring at him, tracing his features with her eyes. She could see the bags under his eyes, wondering if he was losing sleep over what happened at the dinner weeks ago. But the obviously fresh hickey proved to her that he really didn’t care about her. He’s here for him.

            “Talk.” San is persistent, she knows that. If she doesn’t hear him out now, he’ll come back again. And again. It used to be one of her favourite things about him. He’d go to her after every fight. If she wasn’t ready to talk, he’d sit with her until she was, letting her know he wasn’t going anywhere. But right now? She hates it. Wishes he could let things be said and done, focus on his new relationship, allow her to focus on herself.

            “Can I come in?” She shook her head.

            “You can talk out here.” He nodded, running his fingers through his hair.

            “I didn’t flirt with Gahyeon or anyone else while we were together, I promise you that. We started texting, but nothing romantic until I officially ended things with you.” He paused to assess the look on Y/n’s face. Try to gauge what she’s thinking, but her face was blank. Her eyes held no emotion. All she did was nod, and turn to shut the door again, but he started talking again. “Please say you believe me.”

            “Let’s say that I do. Where does that leave us? We’re still broken up. You still had someone else in line for when we broke up. Nothing changes. So what was the point of you coming all the way over here to tell me this?” Silence fell over them for a minute while San tried to think of something. “Good talk.” She goes to close the door for a fourth time, but this time stops herself to say one more thing. “Maybe you should make a note in your phone of her favourites. So you don’t forget.” Before San could say anything else, she closes the door.

            He goes to knock again but is stopped by Changbin. “I think it’s pretty clear she doesn’t want to talk to you.” San looks at the door and then back at Changbin, noticing the bags of food he had in his hands. He realizes now that she was expecting Changbin when she first opened the door, smile wide, makeup freshly done. It reminds him of when they first started dating, when he would show up at her house with food and gifts. How she would open the door with the same smile, the same starry look in her eyes. It’s clear to him now that she’s completely moved on, and for some reason, he hates the feeling settling in his chest.

~

            It didn’t hit her until she was gathering her belongings together after class, humming a song to herself that Changbin likes to sing to her, that she was growing attached. She was falling for him. She didn’t think of San anymore. Or the hurt he gave her. She didn’t think of the breakup in the coffee shop with San handing her a drink she barely drank. Or the dinner where San pointed out food she would hate. She didn’t even think of the fact that her relationship with San was over long before either of them walked away. That he had another girl lined up for when he left her.

            She thought of Changbin coming in, sliding her favourite drink across the table like he was the one she was supposed to be meeting up with the whole time. How he knew immediately which meal at the restaurant she would like, knowing the one San pointed out was one she wouldn’t eat. She thought of the way Changbin didn’t let her dwell in the heartbreak. He mended her heart before she could even realize it was broken.

            The realization stopped her in her tracks, steps away from her desk, her bag falling to the floor. She was in love with Changbin. How could she be in love with Changbin? She spent years hating him, wanting nothing to do with him. Now all she wants to do is spend the day with him. Everyday.

            “Are you okay?” Changbin came rushing in, picking her bag up off the ground, looking over her to see if she was injured anywhere. “Are you sick?” When he placed his hand on her forehead, she met his eyes. They were filled with worry and concern. And they were only focused on her. Even with other students around them, he only looked at her. “Let’s get you home and I’ll make you some soup.”

            He slung her bag over his shoulder with no hesitation, wrapping her in his arms, leading her out of the building and to his car. People stared. They whispered. But Changbin didn’t care. He still only looked at her. She stopped walking and reached for her bag, but Changbin pulled back. “You don’t have to do this anymore. It’s been almost two weeks since I’ve seen San. We can end this and go back to the way things used to be.” She held out her hand for her bag, but Changbin softly hit it away.

            “What if I don’t want to? What if I want to continue to be by your side? Did you ever think of that?” She stared at him, unsure of what to say. It never crossed her mind that Changbin wanted to be with her. Despite that being the most plausible reason for him continuing to show up everywhere. She always saw him as someone to hate, someone that hates her just as much. “Let me just take you home. Please.” He sounded desperate. As if he was seconds away from getting on his knees. So she gave in.

            The drive was silent. Unlike the drives in the past, which were usually filled with music, Changbin singing along, looking over at her, and serenading her with every cheesy love song. She would laugh, playfully smack his arm, and tell him he was a dork. But it never stopped him. Not that she wanted him to stop. And now that he’s not, she wishes for nothing more than just to be serenaded one last time.

            “Don’t come around anymore.” She said softly as she got out of his car. “Thanks for all your help.” He nodded and she shut the door. He waited until she was inside to drive away, trying to pretend like his heart wasn’t hurting and his eyes weren’t stinging from holding back tears.

~

            She tried to keep to routine the following days, but without Changbin knocking at her door making her excited for the days to come, the routine seemed to fall apart. It felt like she was back at square one. Pulling herself out of bed, shuffling into the bathroom. She tamed her hair that was knotted all over from tossing and turning, brushed her teeth, and washed her face.

            Her eyes scanned over her makeup when she sat at the desk in her room, glancing up into the mirror. And then she stood up, got dressed, and left her room. “Eat something before you go.” Her roommate called after her. When she turned around, she saw dishes scattered on the table. “Did you and Changbin break up?” Her roommate asked as they sat at the table to eat. “I got used to having him around everyday.” She giggled.

            “Me too.” Y/n mumbled then caught herself. “We weren’t dating!” Her roommate looked at her like she didn’t believe her.

            “Oh please. So he was just coming over everyday with food just because?” Y/n nodded. “Picking you up after class? Taking you out all the time? Late night drives? All just because?” She nodded again, slowly this time, taking in the words. “And look at you now. You look like you’re going through a break up.”

            Y/n looked down at her outfit. It was warm outside so she wore a t-shirt with a pair of shorts. It was comfortable. She thought it was cute. But if Changbin were here to pick her up, she’s sure she would have gone for a skirt instead. Or maybe a little sundress. She would have done her hair better. A touch of makeup. “I’m going to class.”

            “Just admit you guys broke up!” Her roommate calls after her and she slams the door, blinking back tears as she hops on her bicycle. It’s been a while, used to Changbin driving her everywhere. But she took a deep breath, put her ear buds in, and took another second to blink back more tears, and then headed for class.

            She didn’t even notice the all too familiar car sitting across the street. Changbin sitting inside, watching her to make sure she was okay. He wonders if she ate the food he left on the steps for her. Wonders if she wished he knocked on the door. If she misses the mornings they shared the way he did.

~

            When all her classes were done, she packed up slower than usual, nothing to look forward to anymore. Changbin wasn’t waiting for her outside the classroom door with his heart stopping smile. He wasn’t going to take her bag and wrap an arm around her, talking a mile a minute about his day, asking about hers, as he led her to his car. They wouldn’t drive around until they found something to do, somewhere to eat.

            Instead she walks alone to her bike, head down, ignoring all the chatter around her. She’s come to terms with the fact that maybe, just maybe her and Changbin took the fake dating thing a little too seriously. Got a little too close. Became a little too attached. “Y/n.” Her head snaps up at the familiar voice, seeing someone standing by her bike with a nervous smile.

            “What are you doing here?” She grumbled as she unlocked her bike, getting ready to go home. And then she stood up, holding her bike by the handlebars, staring at the man that nervously scratched the back of his neck. “If you don’t have anything to say, goodbye.”

            “Y/n wait, please.” She really thought she’d never see him again. Hoped she’d never see him again. “You and Changbin. Is it true you broke up?” She used to find his nervous habits cute. The way he’d kick his feet, scratch at his neck, barely make eye contact. But not anymore.

            “That’s not any of your business, San.” She answered.

            “Do you want to know why I actually broke up with you?” He asked before she could leave. The question had her stopping in her tracks. She thought she knew. He didn’t love her anymore. He forget everything about her, started to learn about someone new. “You’re right that our relationship was over long before either of us walked away, but do you know why?”

            “Because you fell out of love with me.” She answered, turning around to face him. He shook his head.

            “Because I knew you and Changbin didn’t really hate each other.” She let out a laugh. She remembers telling San all the things Changbin has done to her, said to her. All the times he made her cry. She would say his name with venom lacing her words. “It was only a matter of time before you saw what I did.”

            “What the fuck are you talking about? I despised him.”

            “I didn’t.” She whipped her head around to see Changbin standing there. “I never hated you. I’m just an idiot and a coward.”

            “I got to go.” She said, getting on her bike and leaving before either of them could say anything else. San nodded his head towards her, telling Changbin to go after her. He watched as Changbin rushed to his car, leaving as fast as he could, knowing he was right. He leaned against the bike rack, shoving his hands in his pockets, practically kicking himself for the words that came out of his mouth.

            That’s not how he wanted the talk to go. He just wanted to know if there was any hope for them to start again, but he knew by the look in her eyes when she saw him that the answer was no. It would always be no. He was too late.

~

            Changbin beat her to her house, standing in front of her steps by the time she made it home, a hopeful smile on his face. “Can we please talk?” She took in his appearance. The dark circles under his eyes, the holes in his shirt. It looked like he rolled out of bed and went to class, but why does she still find him attractive?

            “You look like a mess.” She said. He looked down at his outfit and chuckled, shrugging his shoulders, telling her he didn’t think he would be seeing her today, even though he wanted to. “Are you going to give me some cheesy speech about how you’ve always had feelings for me and that made you nervous so you said dumb things and that made me hate you?” He opened his mouth to dispute that but closed it and nodded. “Idiot.”

            “We’ve established that.” He said. She giggled and nodded. “So? Should we give us a real chance?” He looked at her with a hopeful look in his eyes, cocking his head slightly to the side as he waited for her answer.            

“Let’s go inside. We have a new episode of our show today.” She said, taking a step towards him, turning him around, and lightly pushing him up the steps, slipping her hand in his before she opened the door. He smiled at her, holding tighter so she couldn’t slip away this time.  

back to masterlist

@mxnsxngie @maeleelee @turtledove824 @moon0fthenight @dinossaurz

[sgiandubh]

No Liberace's smile

Warning: this will take forever to read. It didn't take forever to write or research, though. But since I will be gone tomorrow and back well, next Saturday, let it be done with a bang.

S the Actor. S the Entrepreneur. S the NYT (3x!) best-seller Writer. Coach S. S the Lover. S the Womanizer. S the Husband. S the Father.

Is something missing, in this deck of Happy Families?

S the (closeted) Gay, of course.

It doesn't really matter the man himself took the time to deny it loud and clear. Twice. This avatar, fueled by idiocy, hatred and ignorance, makes regularly the rounds, each and every time we dare to celebrate something, anything really. It serves three tribes and serves them well: the Congregation of Domestic Bliss (aka Taiters). The Data Lounge crowd. And the Disgruntled Harpies, who once were some of the most fervent Ginger Jesus worshippers, but whose hopes, dreams and trust wrecked on the shores of Quarantein Ha-wa-wee.

It is the proper of calumny to leave a pungent, persistent trail wherever it fumbles around. Calomniez, calomniez, il en restera toujours quelque chose, Beaumarchais once wrote. Calumny, calumny, something's gonna stick - in a very lazy, but dependable translation. This one is particularly vicious, because it sounds coherent: he trades in make-believe, lots of actors are, precedents exist. And my favorite: it explains everything (fun fact: it doesn't even start to cover the shitshow).

Four exhibits should put us out of this dumpster. Chronologically and comparatively:

Exhibit A: Rough Beginnings (2009)

This one is the most touted on Tumblr, by that horrible woman Queen Puff thought was the same person as Paul C. (and was probably wrong). In a nutshell, she was in London then, she often went to the theatre, she was in the know, fuck knows what else, but she has SOURCES, too: there is nothing straight about his bat.

I suppose this person must have watched Nicholas de Jongh's Plague Over England, a play essentially narrating a scandalous episode of John Gielgud's biography, with a heavy-handed focus on homophobia in Britain during the 50's.

He got naked on stage! He kissed a man! Oh, oh, oh... the rumor! the scandal! (insert domestic fire shrieks) My eyes! Quick, let's fetch the smelling salts! And chlorine! I need a good rinse!

You would imagine Sodom & Gomorrah Ltd on that stage, eh?

Tumblrettes United of the disgruntled sort, did your talkative friend ever show you this devastating Guardian chronicle, signed by their in-house critic, John M. Morrison on February 27th 2009 (https://www.theguardian.com/stage/theatreblog/2009/feb/26/de-jongh-plague-over-england) ?

Should I sign it or use a pistol flare? It wasn't exactly scandalous, the only thing is the text was really, really piss poor. S is only gracing the above picture, hovering over the article: no mention of him whatsoever. Unlike Somerset 2019, a most Unremarkable Performance.

And S himself was very interested to explore precisely this kind of progressive-ish acting, as he clearly writes in Waypoints. This sounds legit - this is business, baby:

Exhibit B: Know your Classics, bi@ tches (2010)

*channeling Tears for Fears* Data Lounge, I am talking to you/[something, something]/These are the things I could do without...

Aside the already very, very tired stock stories purporting that "my dog's aunt knew Heughan and yeah, he was so, so, so gay I could cry", all you have (I checked!) is 1 (one) absolutely dubious BTS pic taken on the set of that terrible dud, Young Alexander, shot in Egypt, circa 2010. Prominently featuring S's waxed calves (see? gay AF!), an unbecoming, supremely effeminate white tunic and *gasp* a bong (no comments were made on that one, a pity). Yeah, you got it: I am writing and I am laughing at the same time. Freak.

How the hell do you want him to look but, pardon my French, queer as a three-dollar bill? You clearly have no idea about sexual ambiguity as social norm in Ancient Greece and also no clue about that fascinating Alexander himself, his life and his yeah, blatant, documented bisexuality.

Take one of the most interesting sources (yeah, only serious ones, with FACTS) of the Late Antiquity, a guy named Athenaeus of Naucratis. He left us The Banquet of the Learned, a fifteen-volume encyclopedic compilation on the pleasures of eating and drinking and doing it in style, along with some juicy gossip. For example, this (open in separate tab, it's worth it):

What do we read? Alexander's mom, dad and tutor (Aristotle, my favorite Greek philosopher, along with Diogenes) are worried he finally might not really be into women, after all. The future of the Macedonian Kingdom itself is at stake (that watery semen made me choke on my Coke) and this is a very serious affair of the state. The most cost-effective and discreet solution is to handsomely pay that Callixeina courtesan from (famous for pin-ups) Thessaly and be done with it.

Apparently, it worked, not without some resistance. If you ever have the curiosity to go on that (in)famous Wikipedia, you will find a whole page dedicated to Alexander the Great's personal life. It reads exactly like the ABC, do-re-mi summer soccer mercato, feat. the Fitness Harem. One of the major joys of Classical studies is to realize we really didn't invent anything new.

But I digress again, so onwards to ...

Exhibit C: Jobbing Actor on the Road, nothing straight about his Bat (2011-2013)

Once the Batman show is on world tour, things are looking a bit better and it is time to try and lockpick America. Still, the struggle is real:

Also, this:

This is something no one noticed. And this is very clear: how on Earth do you expect to commit to a relationship, any relationship, when your basic needs, according to Maslow's Pyramid (a roof, a job, a steady paycheck, etc), are not satisfied? What would you offer your woman? Your precarity? Your insecurity? Your fear and shame of the bailiffs? A pint of cheap Polish beer? A futon in Golders Green?

But let's conveniently not answer these questions. Let's pretend that poverty has no impact on one's sexual life or dating history. Let's just endlessly cackle and blather on a drunk tweet stating candidly - and perfectly truly - "there's nothing straight about my Bat". I hate to quote myself - for any good speaker, this is a defeat- but, LOUDER FOR THE PEOPLE OF MORDOR:

Exhibit D: A French example - the case of Michel Serrault

The 1979 comedy La Cage aux Folles, later adapted for the US public under the name of Birds of a Feather (that Robin Williams/Nathan Lane forgettable gay movie) is absolutely representative for the live and let live French approach to homosexuality, ever since it was decriminalized by the revolutionary Penal Code of 1791. This is why I chose Michel Serrault, one of its two leads, to illustrate my Gay Anon post. Not to mention Serrault was a genius who could play absolutely anyone, from a retired hitman in Matthieu Kassowitz' Assassin(s) to Zaza Napoli.

This balding, ageing, cantankerous drag queen (sound is horrific, but you've got English subtitles - granted, you lose about 30% of the hysterical hilarity in translation, but it is what it is), as seen here in a domestic scene opposite her partner, played by notorious womanizer Ugo Tognazzi:

By the limp standards of Mordor, Serrault must have been a French LGBTQ+ institution, given his stellar, flawless acting, isn't it?

Incorrect, dolls. In his real, personal life Serrault was a devout Catholic, an exemplary father of two and a one-woman man. His wife, Nita Serrault, whom he met in drama school and never looked back.

It almost sounds like... but no, this cannot be..

The hard, gruesome life of shippers.

[j0kers-light]

His Lighthouse: Mind Games (LedgerJoker x f!reader)

Mind Games

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:

The mind is a dangerous weapon, you should know this firsthand. Surely this all can't be real? But if so.. then who's lying? And who's telling the truth?

author's note:

Its been far too long loves! I'm back with a new update and boy is this one a doozy! Forget everything you thought happened last chapter and just read from the top! Things will slowly start to make sense or trick you. I hope you enjoy either way! I had a song selected for this chapter but in the end, it didn't fit the overall mood. Maybe next time.

taglist:

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

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

Last Chapter | Next Chapter

When did your mind start playing tricks on you? Did you hallucinate the entire conversation or just bits and pieces? When did it all go horribly wrong?

Your head was pounding and you didn't remember a thing after Bruce stepped closer to you.

When your back hit the balcony railing, it set off a trigger that made you instantly disassociate. You didn't hear Bruce's smooth voice after that as it was replaced with another from your past— one that you tried so hard to forget. It was sickly sweet and made you feel dirty inside and out.

Words and phrases were twisted around until you didn't know what to believe anymore. The background changed from your rooftop balcony to that damp and dark alleyway and that's when you knew nothing beyond this point was real.

Deep down you knew Bruce would never be this cruel but you couldn't be too sure. He was a gentleman... this wasn't real, but your mind made it seem very realistic.

Your memories from that night were back and you couldn't bear to relive it again.

'It's not real.' You repeated over and over as your mind spiraled out of control.

Bruce noticed you were shivering and covered your shoulders with a heavy blanket. He sighed when you tensed up and wrapped the fabric around yourself like a shield. You were so jumpy lately, it really had him concerned.

He didn't understand why you were so distant towards him. Bruce could be the bigger person here and ask why despite the awkward tension festering between the two of you.

"How do I say this? You've been distant lately. Especially to me." He said. He wasn't expecting your timid voice to respond so quickly.

"Uh.. yeah? I hope so since I broke things off with you and if you haven't noticed over dinner— I've moved on. You're the one that keeps being nice and trying to get along with my parents.."

Bruce strained to hear what else you said under your breath but he caught your eyes blinking a mile a minute. That was unusual.

"Y/n, are you alright?" He asked.

"Yeah." You said without missing a beat.

He frowned and stepped closer, causing you to back away and hit the balcony railing with your hip. You slurred more of your words together.

"Are you sure? You look unwell, Y/n. Perhaps we should get you inside."

You were mumbling under your breath but Bruce couldn't hear a word. He knew something was wrong when you held your head and started hyperventilating. Then it hit him. You were having a panic attack.

His Batman instincts immediately kicked in.

"Breathe in and out, Y/n. Whatever it is, it's not real. Can you hear me? Y/n?" You avoided his touch but Bruce was persistent in trying to calm you down.

"Whatever is hurting you Y/n, please let me inand—"

Bruce never heard a scream as blood curdling as yours.

It's like he said the magic words and triggered old memories, for you immediately began fighting his hold, kicking and screaming with all your might. Bruce was a strong individual, with or without the bat suit, but he struggled trying to keep you still. You were too close to the balcony ledge for his liking so he corralled you back towards the apartment to keep you safe.

Everyone in the penthouse heard your horrified scream and woke up out of their slumber to investigate.

Your mom and dad were unfortunately veterans to this and knew exactly what was going on so they rushed straight to the scene.

Barbara, Morgana, and Dick however stumbled out of their rooms and followed the commotion out onto the balcony, not truly understanding what was going on in.

They all arrived to witness you screaming at the top of your lungs and clawing at Bruce's arms like a feral cat. He was trying to calm you down but the scene looked rather odd without any context.

Your parents would walk in while the two of you were in a suggestive position.

Bruce did a double take at the shocked audience and shouted, "Don't just stand there, help me!" You resorted to biting him and he almost lost his grip on you again if not for his leg pinning you down.

Your mother panicked seeing you in a fit of hysterics and she couldn't blame you. You were being manhandled during such a delicate situation.

"Let go of her!" She rushed to Bruce's side and snatched you out of his hold.

The second you felt a female presence, you stopped fighting back but continued to cry uncontrollably.

Your father slid to your side but kept his distance as to not set you off again. He felt useless not being able to help in your time of need yet your mother quickly stepped up to the plate in his stead.

"It's okay sweetheart. It's over, it's over. He's gone. You're safe now. It's all over." Your mother shushed in your ear. She rocked you like a baby as you choked back tears.

"P-Please stop! It hurts!" You wailed. Your mother blinked back her own tears while rubbing your back in big comforting circles. Your father met her gaze as they held a private conversation.

It's happening again.

"It's not real, Y/n. You're safe now." Mom glanced at Bruce's bloody arms and winced. "Babe, can you go find the first aid kit for Bruce?" She whispered to your dad so you wouldn't hear.

Everyone's eyes focused on the angry red claw marks your nails left on Bruce. Just what happened here? Your father grimaced at the bite mark but stood up to make himself useful.

You pleaded again, trapped in a distant memory and Morgana choked back a sob hearing her friend in so much pain.

It was too much to witness and she turned away to cry. Dick stood off to the side, oddly quiet, but concerned for his sister. Everyone was.

Barbara couldn't stand the silence and cried out, "What happened Bruce?"

Multiple curious eyes watched the billionaire rub the back of his head. Your father came back with the first aid kit and started accessing the damage you left. "She's still a fighter (mother's name). I bet these hurt like a mf, lemme see." 

Bruce had suffered worse injuries but your nails were rather sharp so he let your father dab alcohol on each scratch to flush out the blood. Bruce had yet to answer the question on everyone's mind.

Your mother looked Bruce dead in the eye and arched an eyebrow. He thought he was gonna get the scolding of a lifetime at the intense e/c staring him down.

He started from the top and explained.

"I genuinely do not know. It's chilly out so I came to offer Y/n a blanket. I tried striking up a conversation about what happened over dinner but she started blinking excessively and clutching her head as if she had a headache. Her back hit the railing and I think she began to have a panic attack. When I tried to calm her down, she became combative."

You whimpered in your mother's arms as you finally fell asleep. She sighed in relief and swapped places with your dad.

She knew he felt useless and he gladly held you close now that you were unconscious and unaware of a male's touch. Your mom waved Bruce over and set about applying Neosporin to his scratches.

They were rather deep but they would heal in a few days time. He declined bandaids and she snapped the first aid kit closed and spoke.

"Don't blame yourself for this. Y/n had a very stressful day and her mind isn't functioning properly because of it."

"That doesn't explain what happened? Is Y/n okay?!" Morgana returned to the conversation with tear tracks still visible on her face.

She never seen you so distraught before. It was like a completely different person possessed your body just then. What kind of friend was she to not notice how much pain you were hiding? She wasn't any better than Florence.

Barbara was thinking the exact same thing. You needed solid friends right now and she was the worst one imaginable.

Your mother took a look around and sighed at the somber air on the balcony. She was emotionally drained after consoling you and it appeared that everyone else was drained as well.

"I think it's time to address the elephant in the room." She sighed. Your father shared a look with his wife. "You think Y/n will like that?"

Mom rolled her neck and snapped.

"D__n it, (father's name)! These are her friends! This episode clearly shows she's been suffering alone! They can help if they know what's going on! She can't keep bottling this up forever; it's killing her. Do you like seeing her like this? Reliving that night every time she's touched the wrong way or backed into a corner?"

Your father bit out his reply. "Of course I don't! But when Y/n wakes up and sees everyone eyeing her in pity, she'll recluse herself again. It's why she moved in the first place. Not everybody heals the way y'all doctors assume people should!"

Dick sighed and stepped in between the feuding couple. This could go on all night if someone didn't stop them.

They both eyed Dick, wondering what the charismatic boy was fixing to say.

"Unofficial, but official, adopted parents please. Go get Y/n situated then meet us back in the living room." Dick didn't wait for them to respond, he just asked Morgana and Bruce to follow him inside as he helped Barbara's wheelchair get over the balcony's sliding door hump.

Your parents didn't dispute his request. They got you settled in bed before coming back out into the living room with no further arguments.

Your friends were gathered around your living room in various stages of alertness. Dick handed out drinks to go with the sweets Barbara baked earlier.

After being woken up so abruptly, sugar was vital to stay awake.

Exhaustion was all around but this was an important meeting that was about to transpire. Not a second could be missed.

Your dad sat down with a sigh and pulled your mother into his lap.

They finally looked their age as they gathered their thoughts to begin. The air in the room was heavy for the next hour and a half as they explained everything to your closest friends.

What they had to say was absolutely horrifying.

"You sure you'll be alright dear?" Your mother asked.

She stood in the foyer as Dick and her husband loaded the car downstairs with leftovers early Friday morning.

The morning came with hushed trepidation but the crew was forced to eat breakfast without you.

You had slept on through the night without any other episodes and your mother didn't anticipate for you to wake up until late this afternoon.

Her and your father had to head back to Blüdhaven and Dick offered to drive them so they didn't have to catch a train. Bruce had to head into the office for board meetings and after apologizing to your parents, (your mother assured the billionaire that this wasn't his fault) he left with the promise that he would check on you later today.

Barbara wanted to stick around but she had to return to work herself which left Morgana volunteering to stay at your penthouse to take care of you.

The perks of being your own boss, she joked. 'You make your own hours.'

Morgana smiled at your mother and nodded.

"Yes ma'am, I'll be alright. Dick showed me around so I got a feel of the place. Leftovers are in the fridge so if she wakes up, I'll make sure she eats and provide her lots of emotional support. You told me what to do if she... that happens again." Morgana scratched her cheek, still processing all that was discussed last night. Or rather this morning.

Bruce, Barbara, Dick, and Morgana saw you in a new light after your parents revealed your dark past and they each swore not to cast a shred of pity on you.

You needed them more than you let on.

Barbara and Morgana were beside themselves hearing about your past and they felt awful for almost ruining a friendship over a silly rumor Florence hatched up. That was the least of their concerns right now. Getting you back in high spirits was the only priority.

Morgana called her employees and asked them to deliver a crate of assorted flowers to your apartment building.

You loved her creations so she would surprise you with a giant bouquet for your apartment. It was a tiny gesture in the grand scheme of things but Morgana was willing to do anything to make you happy after last night.

Flowers could liven up the place and ward off bad spirits. She made a mental note to water your sunroom plants while she was here.

"Well dear, you have my number if you need me." Your mother hugged Morgana right as Dick came through the door saying they were ready to go. "You take good care of my baby! We'll be back in a few more weeks." She said.

"Call me if you have a question, Morgana!" Dick offered to the florist.

Morgana waved them both off and closed the door after more pleasantries were exchanged.

Your parents were super cool. Morgana was lucky to have met them even despite the terrible circumstances. She sighed to herself and thought aloud. "What a day.. and it just started."

She had the place to herself until you woke up so she went about accessing the state of your household plants.

They looked a little worse for wear and could stand a special treatment.

The day trickled on and Morgana spent the majority of it working on the lush floral display her employees dropped off at your place. She twisted exotic and local flowers into a gorgeous statement piece but something was missing.

Morgana was wracking her head around exactly what when she swore she heard your bedroom door close.

"Y/n?"

She looked towards the hallway but didn't see anything. A glance at the clock set the day around one in the afternoon.

Your mother was right about you sleeping in. It meant this happened numerous times in the past for her to have a predetermined schedule.

Morgana shivered. How long have you suffered like this?

She saw a blanket-clad figure float down the hallway and set a pink rose down to follow you.

"Y/n are you..." You slammed the door shut right in her face.

Morgana stuttered in shock but pushed it back open only to watch you crawl under the covers. This was so unlike you. "Y/n are you hungry?" She asked hesitantly.

You shifted under the covers away from Morgana's gentle voice.

Your mom warned her that you'd be antisocial for the next twenty-four hours but urged the florist to get some food and water in you. You lost a lot of fluids from crying last night and needed to replenish yourself or risk getting sick.

Morgana sighed at your lack of response but left to fix you a simple plate of food to eat with some water. You were still a hermit when she returned to the bedroom. You were gonna make this babysitting thing difficult.

Morgana sat the glass of water down on the nightstand should you wake up thirsty.

"I left some water and a plate of food if you feel up to it, Y/n." She said.

You remained buried under covers with no plans of returning to the real world. Dick had invaded Joker's room and erased the comforting scent of lighter fluid and cinnamon from the bed sheets.

With the sea of uncertainty floating within your head, you needed something familiar to ground you to the present. You craved Joker and his unique scent but he was nowhere to be found.

You whimpered dejectedly and Morgana's heart went out to you.

She wanted to offer you some emotional support but decided to leave you be. No words of encouragement could help the pain you were in.

She checked on you one last time before leaving your room. Her mind was focused on you and not her surroundings. She received the jump scare of a lifetime when she turned the corner.

"Holy s__t!" Morgana yelped.

Joker pursed his lips and watched your friend try to scramble away. Morgana knocked a figurine on the hallway table over but remained on her feet for the most part. The bauble smashed onto the floor in several pieces and Joker hummed offhandedly at its demise.

"I uh li-ked that one. So! I'm guessing you're the... florist friend."

He blocked her escape and tilted his head in a show of intimidation. It worked like a charm. Morgana's brown eyes were wide like saucers.

"Y/n likes your work. The uhh.. arrangements.. from Arrange Me NoT.. ya see. I wasn't ex-pect-ting visitors so uh sorry bout this..." Joker went to grab Morgana but she shoved the decorative table in his direction and bolted down the hallway.

Joker sighed and gave her a head's start before he easily caught up to her in the living room.

He yanked her back by her hair and Morgana, ever mindful of you trying to sleep, stifled her scream with her palm.

Her back collided with the wall as Joker held a knife up to her throat. It was natural that she panicked but she did so for an entirely different reason.

"You can't kill me, it'll tear Y/n apart!" Morgana looked Joker dead in the eye and pleaded her case. He rolled his eyes and nudged her jugular with his knife.

"S-She's hurting! She's hurting and we didn't know!! If you kill me it'll only make things worse on her! Please, I want to take care of my friend, I won't tell a-anyone! I-I-I promise!" Morgana started to sob but Joker could care less.

He furrowed his brows and gripped his knife tighter, "Whaddya mean.. 'Y/n is hurting?"

Morgana scanned Joker's face. His makeup was more terrifying in person than on tv.

The clown looked serious but she didn't know the guy well enough to know for sure so she asked aloud. "Y-You don't know?"

J rolled his eyes again and smacked his lips. "I wouldn't asK if I diD, now would I? Who. HurT. Her?" Morgana flinched every time he stressed a syllable.

Now, Morgana was a sensible woman. She was book and street smart and used them well in life.

Even with her back literally against the wall, she wouldn't show fear; it wasn't in her free spirited nature. She faced fear with a straight face and dealt with the consequences later, however; this man was worse than fear.

The Joker was unpredictable and unnaturally calm with everything he did. He held her at knifepoint with a lazy grin as if it didn't matter if she answered or not.

She would die regardless.

Her life didn't matter to him so she had to think smart to stay alive. She resorted to her business savvy skills.

Morgana had information that Joker didn't know about and that put a value on her life. It would buy her some time to escape at least.

She nodded to herself and began to work.

"Will you let me go? I-I'll tell you anything, just.. not while being held at knifepoint." Morgana glanced at the weapon resting precariously on her jugular. Any more pressure and the edge would puncture the skin.

Joker narrowed his eyes but guided Morgana over to the kitchen island by her arm after thinking things over. He wanted to hear what she had to say.

He pushed her towards a barstool and leaned down right in her face.

He hoped his fear tactics weren't rusty from misuse yet Morgana looked ready to pass out. His presence alone had her on edge.

"Start. Talking." Joker ordered.

Morgana nodded and closed her eyes. He wasn't giving her any time to react to any of this. She was face to face with the infamous Joker inside her friend's apartment. It was a lot to digest. Just what business did he have with you?

But suddenly, everything made sense.

The reason why you became so secretive out of the blue. Why you denied having relations with Bruce Wayne, how you survived the attack at The Prosperity, and why you wanted privacy at your apartment, now more so than ever. She thought back to when this all started; right after Joker escaped from Arkham Asylum.

You were keeping Joker a secret this entire time right under everyone's nose.

Morgana had to give you props; you did an amazing job but she still had to ask.

"Before I start, I have to know. Are you just using her or are you and Y/n like.. together together?" She made a lewd gesture with her hands. Joker wasn't amused. He clicked his blade back out with a sigh.

"I won'T ask again. Talk or the uhh knife? This one! It comes back." He shook it playfully and its sharp edge gleamed in the kitchen's overhead lights.

Joker wouldn't hesitate plunging the knife into her neck. The clean up would be a pain but nothing he couldn't handle. If she didn't want to willingly talk then things could shift to a more tortuous method of communication.

It was all up to Morgana to decide. Comply or be difficult. He let her mull it over.

Watching Joker's fiddle with his knife was enough to get her talking. This madman would not hesitate in killing her and she knew it. She'd tell him anything as long as that knife kept a safe distance from her. "I'll talk."

Morgana sighed in relief when Joker backed off.

"Okay, wow um, you might wanna sit down for this. It's.. a lot to take in. Ugh, where do I start?"

Joker watched Morgana stall and decided to help her along. He sighed and pulled up a seat in front of her.

"Let's start... righhhht after Florence left yesterday." Joker fixed his suit collar before crossing his ankles. Morgana was in disbelief by his extensive knowledge of the situation.

"How do you...?" Joker sent her a glare.

"You're right, I don't wanna know. Okay, so apparently Florence knows about you and Y/n. F__k, I do too! This is crazy. You and Y/n.. are dating. Anyways, Flo stormed out of the apartment with Neo hot on her heels. It was crazy with everyone talking over themselves and Y/n fainted but thankfully Bruce caught her. We were so worried about her but when she came to, she was still hung up on Florence. Then Y/n and Dick were yelling at each other until her mom broke them up."

Morgana ran a hand through her silk press. This was a lot harder to explain than she thought.

She quite honestly didn't know if The Joker wanted a short summary or a detailed explanation but she continued nonetheless. She chose to info dump to save her own hide.

"We all went into the kitchen– Y/n's parents, Barbs and I, while Y/n, Dick, and Bruce were still arguing in the dining room. Y/n walked past all angry at something Grayson said and slammed her bedroom door close but her mom left us in the kitchen to bring Y/n a plate of dessert. I guess they patched things up. They were up in her room for the—"

Joker had to interrupt. "Y/n let someone into her room?"

Morgana slowly nodded. He had been quiet as she rambled, she wasn't expecting him to interrupt to clarify such a useless detail.

"Yeah, it was her mom so guess it was okay? Well, now that I think about it, Y/n didn't appreciate them 'invading her safe space.' Her words not mine. It was around that time we all decided on staying over for a sleepover and Y/n made sure we were all situated before going to bed. I swear everything was fine when we went to sleep but we woke up to Y/n screaming her head off."

Morgana began to tear up. Joker felt indifferent to the sight since it wasn't your tears. Seeing Morgana's just annoyed him.

She took a deep breath and Joker knew she was getting to the important part.

"When we got to the balcony, Y/n was fighting with Bruce and crying her heart out. She was reliving everything that happened that night and... h-hey woah!! Where are you going?!"

Morgana panicked when Joker shifted to get up from his chair. She blocked his path and he eyed her in disgust.

"Move." Joker could not stand Wayne and his obvious lovesick attraction to you.

You had relations with Bruce that Joker didn't know about and it irked him to have competition for your love.

It was already bad enough that Wayne was at your apartment, that he spent the night, and then had the audacity to put his hands on you. But he messed up by making you cry. The man was begging for death at this point.

Joker would enjoy murdering Gotham City's most upstanding citizen. He already had a thousand ways to do it brewing inside his head. However, Morgana was in his way.

She hesitantly pushed him back and apologized when Joker gave her a harsh glare. Note to self: do not touch the psychotic clown, she thought.

She tried to calm down his murderous campaign by telling the truth.

"It wasn't Bruce! He was only trying to help!" Joker rolled his eyes (what help has Wayne ever been) but she put her foot down and continued.

"IF YOU STOP JUMPING TO CONCLUSIONS AND LET ME FINISH, YOU WOULD UNDERSTAND!" She slapped her hands over her mouth and looked up at Joker.

She did not just yell at this man. Morgana did some questionable things in her life but that had to be the most reckless of them all. She glanced towards the bedroom and hoped that she wasn't too loud.

Joker was seriously considering snapping her neck for raising her voice at him.

His patience was thin today and this girl was testing it to the limits. Although he was curious as to why she stifled her voice.

He followed her gaze and eyed her quizzically. Morgana answered his unspoken question.

She dropped her hand, "Y/n is sleeping. It took forever to calm her down last night." 

Joker closed his eyes and sighed. He was so busy handling the Florence situation with Neo last night, he didn't stop and check on you. And that proved to be a big mistake.

Once again, when you needed Joker the most, he was nowhere to be found. His sweet Bunny was terrified last night and had to rely on Wayne of all people for comfort. Joker had failed you yet again. It left a sour taste in his mouth.

He assumed guilt and vowed to atone for his failure in blood.

"Uhhh what, errrr rather who made her cry? Who I'm killing?" Joker asked out of the blue.

He sat back down on the barstool and Morgana eyed him briefly as she thought over her answer. If she told the truth, then he would go out and start a murdering spree.

"No one I think? Like I said, Y/n was in total hysterics last night. Her parents knew exactly what to do to calm her down from her episode. She... she had a panic attack about the night she was—" Morgana stopped and looked away.

The most important part and she couldn't say it aloud. She fought back tears and faced Joker.

He needed to know but the words were caught in her throat.

Joker wasn't a fool. Something was hurting his Bunny that he didn't know about. Correction; He knew something from your past still haunted you for a while now.

There were signs that he picked up during his brief time with you.

You were a recluse despite being so young and you avoided all types of human interaction outside of your close circle of friends. He also noted you did not have any male friends, except for the Grayson boy.

You visibly became uncomfortable around the opposite sex. Him included at times.

Joker knew about your claustrophobia and anxiety in tight spaces. He noticed you would eye him warily when the two of you would take the elevator, or that you preferred open floor plans, and most of all– he remembered the conversation the two of you shared after he rescued you from Two Face's warehouse.

Joker couldn't ignore the fact that another man was on top of you earlier. "Did he.. uh you know.." Joker brushed your thigh in passing.

"No and could you just drop it? I-I don't want to be a victim again."

And Joker would be a fool not to remember the comment you made as he prepared to take you for the first time that same night.

"Um.. almost two years. B-Before I moved to Gotham. It's one of the reasons why I moved." You met Joker's knowing gaze and weakly smiled. "It's in the past. I'm okay. Really. You can touch me.. I ahh I like it when you do."

Two years. You didn't want to be a victim again. You moved to a different city to get away from the trauma someone inflicted on you.

You liked Joker's touch but it took him forever to acclimate you to it without flinching.

You still did every now and then but he paid it no mind since you would relax after a second or two. Joker noticed every little thing about his Light but he dismissed all the warnings signs.

The truth was right there. He was just too selfish to address them.

All the times he was too rough in bed or grabbed you unexpectedly, came crashing down on him. What if he pressured you into something you didn't want? What if he triggered old wounds and made things worse?

His Light, his ray of hope in this bleak existence of his, deserved to be happy and loved.

Without your smiling face by his side, Joker would be a ruthless madman again; only wishing for the world to burn with no true endgame in sight.

He spent too much time bathed in your light to return to his pointless crusade. What a lonely life he lived before you came and gave it purpose.

Joker didn't know what to do with the fact that his Light was miserable inside.

Morgana watched him slip down a mental rabbit hole. He looked lost in thought as a weight settled over his brow.

She wondered what you saw in the man but the longer she stared, she could see some of the appeal. He was hot if she squinted. Joker obviously cared a great deal about you and his eyes were a complex shade of green that Morgana had never seen before.

You had a thing for eyes.. but the fact you made someone like The Joker have feelings for another human being was an achievement in itself.

Morgana hated to interrupt his thoughts but she finally found the courage to continue. She cleared her throat to continue but Joker cut her off.

"Don'T say it. I know. I've.... known for a while now." He swept his arm across the kitchen counter and sent items crashing to the floor.

Morgana jumped at the unexpected action and watched Joker stand up and begin pacing the room, mumbling to himself.

He was about to start breaking more things when Morgana stole his attention.

"Now you see why I asked you earlier?" Joker shot her a glare. She swiftly changed her tone. "Are you just using Y/n... or are you going to be there for her? Y/n needs us, all of us, and if you're just using her, I'm sorry but I can't allow that!"

Joker laughed, "What are ya gonna do, hmm? Stop me? Now.. that? That is funny. But don't worry– I'm not using Y/n.. I lov—"

Joker stopped himself mid sentence and Morgana caught onto what he almost said. Her jaw dropped in disbelief.

You could hear the fridge humming in the background, it was so quiet in the kitchen.

"O-Oh. Well, um that wasn't on my monthly bingo card but alrighty now." Morgana fell back onto the barstool.

This was awkward. She stole a glance at the criminal frozen in place as he registered what he just confessed to.

He finally almost said it aloud. He'd been struggling for days to tell you in person but managed to say it to your friend, no sweat. She had to die now. No one could know he had feelings.

Joker turned his head like an owl and Morgana instantly picked up on his murderous intent.

She moved so there was an island counter in between Joker and her. She valued her life, thank you very much.

"Hey now! No need to get all murder stabby stabby on me! T-That's amazing! H-have you told Y/n yet?"

Joker curled his lip. "No. Where is she?" He glanced down the hall and was about to storm off when Morgana flailed her arms.

"Wait! Don't wake her up!!" Her shout worked in getting Joker's attention but now she had to do damage control. Joker did not like her ordering him around. Morgana could work on establishing an acquaintance later, your health was more important.

"You can't just drop an L bomb after everything that's happened, are you crazy?! Now is not the time and news flash! She doesn't need— Uh excuse you?! Hey, are you listening to me?"

Morgana dashed down the hallway to catch up to Joker. She slipped past him and blocked the door frame with her body. "Listen to what I'm saying!"

Joker eyed her like a pest. Did she seriously think she could stop him?

"Y/n can't stand men right now. She drew blood trying to get away from Bruce and she couldn't tolerate her own father's presence. You don't know what her ex did to her. You don't want to see her like this." 

Joker stared at Morgana as her warning sank in.

If he had any clue what your sorry excuse for an ex did, then you needed someone to comfort you more than ever. Isolation was the last thing you needed right now.

As someone who frequently battled voices inside of his head, silence was the enemy and made matters worse. Joker knew that for a fact that you don't handle separation well, so why did Morgana think leaving you to your thoughts was a good idea?

It was a recipe for disaster.

He understood why you're terrified of men but you never feared him before. Why start now?

Joker smacked his lips and shoved Morgana aside. She yelped as he opened the bedroom door and glanced around.

Same original hardwood floors, same vegan cowhide rug.

The leather couch with two accent chairs, one slate grey, the other sage green, were still over in the corner by the electric fireplace and the view of Grant Park from outside was half obscured by the curtains. A single beam of sunlight was the only source of light within the room.

Everything was the same yet vastly off due to the fact that your aura wasn't thriving in the room.

It felt cold and bereft of life.

Joker was eyeing the open closet door when he saw something shift on the bed.

There was a sizable lump in the middle but he recognized the shape from anywhere. You were buried underneath the covers and doing your best impression of a blanket burrito. He could tell that you were awake.

You were timid but curious of the presence that entered the room. Subtle movements revealed you were tracking his every footfall.

Joker exhaled before walking over to stand beside the bed. He rather rip the band-aid off than freak you out by stalling.

Morgana picked herself up from off the floor and entered the room, only for Joker's eyes to force her back out.

She understood the message within the greenish hue.

"I was neva here." She said as she walked backwards out the door. It clicked shut behind her.

With her gone, Joker could finally breathe a sigh of relief.

He wasn't out of the woods just yet since Morgana would surely stay inside the apartment, (little did he know, she was cupping her ear to the door, trying to eavesdrop) but he could be more forward with his actions. It was a relief that your rooms were soundproof; Joker had a lot on his mind.

"I know you're awake."

The pile of covers flinched and shrunk in on itself. Joker shrugged off his coat and tossed it onto the leather couch. It landed heavily with a distinct metal clank.

"You probably need, uhh, space but I can't leave ya alone. NoT now. I'm here. If you need me." Joker sank a knee onto the bed and crept forward until he bumped against you. He heard the sharp inhale you made upon contact and wisely backed off.

You were a gentle soul both inside and out. You didn't deserve to be frightened of something as simple as human touch. He wanted nothing more than to spoil you with affection, however Joker would be patient and regain your trust again. You were worth the wait.

Just like the bunny he named you after, he would wait until you came crawling out of your hiding hole, curious to explore.

And just like he expected, you slowly poked your head from out of the covers before looking around the room. He stayed out of your eyesight so he wouldn't startle you, but somehow, you knew he was there.

It wasn't that dark in the room but he was hesitant to turn on a light until you asked him to.

"W-Who's t-there?" You turned your head and locked eyes with pools of jade.

Joker didn't move a muscle as you lookedbut didn't fully see him. He noticed you shaking. You probably saw someone else with your unstable mind.

"Y/n, it's me." J waved at you but you shrunk back further into the covers.

He had to think fast and jog your memory. He was the one that gave you a slew of nicknames but you didn't have one for him. He was just J.

Not very helpful in this current predicament.

Joker still had his makeup on and it would remain until Morgana left the penthouse for good. It eliminated him from showing you the constellation of freckles you loved so much on his face. That for sure would restart your memory.

What was something the two of you shared that could help familiarize Joker to you?

He had yet to give you anything of sentimental value so he striked that off the list. He was shifting his weight on the bed when you tensed.

Your nose flexed just like a bunny, he thought it was cute.

"I should ahhh–"

You cut Joker off. "Lighter fluid and something.. metallic. It.. it smells like that when I'm safe with.. J? Where, w-where were you? Why didn't you stop him..?"

There were many things in this life that Joker overcame. He been in the world's most toughest jails, endured inhumane torture methods, and fought against the greatest superheroes and lived to tell the tale. Yet despite all of those feats, he was brought to his knees at the sight of your tears time and time again.

They were daggers straight to his heart. He couldn't bear seeing his Light in so much pain but despite the agony, he couldn't look away.

You clung tighter to the comforter around you.

"I-I don't know what's r-real anymore! I can hear him telling me it's okay but it's your hands hurting me. You wouldn't do that! Your hands are warm w-with callouses on the palms and index fingers. I begged you to stop! Why won't you s-stop?! Please.. just.. Why weren't you there when I needed you?"

Joker hated to admit it, but Morgana was right. He didn't need to see you like this.

He was living in a nightmare seeing his precious bunny struggling to see the truth. Your mind was all mixed up, fighting both the past and the present.

He had to do something although he didn't know what.

"I.. I wasn't here last night, but uhh, I'm here now. C'mon, Y/n, tell me what ya need me to do."

Joker would give you the world on a silver platter if you asked for it, but he felt utterly useless watching you spiral into madness. His heart stopped beating after he heard your watery plea.

"It hurts, please stop." You weren't thinking clearly and he began to worry when you started to breathe erratically.

He couldn't sit around and watch you suffer. Joker threw all caution to the wind and pulled you in for a hug, covers and all.

At first you resisted– Joker thought he messed up big time– but you sagged further in his arms and buried your face into his chest.

You grabbed fists full of J's suit and inhaled.

The unique cocktail that only Joker possessed, helped you recognize who held you tightly. You sobbed knowing that your Dark Prince was finally here. You thought Joker abandoned you.

"I don't want him to come back, please don't go!" You looked up at Joker.

Your big e/c were frantically staring into his. He sighed and tucked a wayward curl back into place under your bonnet– for once, you didn't flinch, rather you leaned into his touch. Your cheek felt so cold against his hand.

Something in J gave way to the moment.

"If you'll, uh let meee, I'll never let you go. Is that okay?" Joker asked. You looked away and he quickly added. "I won't do anything else, doll. I just wanna be.. here for ya. Let me ahh hold you so... he.. doesn't hurt ya. I won't leave you."

You bit your lip. Joker's arms were soothing for now but you were wary of them.

He could turn violent at a moment's notice. "You promise you won't hurt me?"

You gasped when Joker rested his forehead against yours. It didn't matter that his white paint transferred onto your skin. You weren't expecting such a sweet gesture from him.

It pained him to hear your plea. He feared you were broken beyond repair. But Joker could fix you; he could fix anything if given enough time. 

"I'd let Bats drag me back to Arkham Asylum before I'd lay a finger on ya. Never again." He kept eye contact with you as he grabbed your hand. You surprised yourself by letting him do it.

Baby steps, Joker thought to himself. His eyes squeezed shut as he kissed the fading scar that he made on your palm.

You saw the anguish take hold of his features. Since when was Joker so open to show his emotions?

Joker dropped his usual dialect and talked to you straight. You knew he was serious when his voice also dropped an octave.

Gone was the clown that Gotham City feared, this was just J, a man secretly in love, speaking to you in the hushed air of your room.

"You're my Light. My everything." He used your fingers in his grasp to wipe your tears away.

More rushed to the surface hearing his sincere words but he diligently kept wiping. "These tears I swear, they'll be the death of me. I know it's scary and you have every right to fear me, but if you don't remember anything else– know this Y/n." He waited until you looked at him.

A kaleidoscope of green greeted you and you swore you would never be the same.

"I will never hurt you again. I promise."

Joker whispered your name when you lost concentration and he patiently waited until you looked into his eyes again.

They pleaded with you to understand the unspoken truths his heart was too weak to voice.

Screw what Morgana said about bad timing. He wanted you to know. He had to tell you the truth. Joker cupped your face, "Y/n, I lo—"

You wanted to hear what Joker had to say but your eyes grew heavy all of a sudden. The last thing you ate was that plate of sugar Mom brought you last night. Your body burned through it and demanded more fuel to keep you functioning.

You were dehydrated and your mind and body were running on fumes. You couldn't keep up, so you crashed.

Joker panicked when your body swayed slightly before you fell back. You were unconscious by the time he could react.

He cursed at his failed attempt but recovered quickly to dote on you. Declarations of love would have to wait. His Light was running the risk of being sick.

Joker laid you down and tucked you into bed properly before heading over to the door. Much to his surprise Morgana was there, doing a terrible job of hiding that she was eavesdropping.

She pretended to straighten the abstract artwork hanging outside the guest bedroom as Joker walked by.

She glanced inside and saw you sleeping but knew something happened behind closed doors.

Instead of being a blanket burrito, you were tucked in bed like Sleeping Beauty with the pillows and covers around you almost picturesque.

Joker had a soft side after all. She just witnessed it firsthand. 

Maybe she should tell him everything your parents disclosed last night after all. By the time she caught up to Joker in the living room, he was mid-call.

He saw her approaching and held up a finger.

Morgana dealt with many rude people in her line of work but Joker was probably the rudest of them all.

"... Mmhm, make sure she's discreet this time. One of Y/n's friends is still here. Yeah.. about that.." Joker locked eyes with Morgana. "She's alive. For now."

She froze on the spot. What did for now mean? Was there some kind of 'how to stay alive' program she needed to know about? He had some nerve and this was the man who claimed to love you.

How comforting.

Morgana bounced on the balls of her feet hoping to be acknowledged soon.

Joker discussed some more minor details with one of his henchmen before hanging up. His eyes then flickered over to the vibrant bouquet of flowers Morgana was working on.

She thought he would destroy her hard work but he leaned over to sniff the delicate flora instead.

"For Y/n?" He scanned the work for any imperfections; there weren't any.

He wanted nothing but the best for his bunny. He stared at Morgana, arching an eyebrow when she didn't respond.

"Y–Yeah." Morgana said, "I'm not finished yet! It's gonna be double in size with more Queen Anne lace and roses to r-round it all out. Y/n loves roses and the Eucalyptus will be good for her exhaustion. Its scent is known for its aromatherapy powers plus its good for rejuvenating the spirit and overall elevating one's mood."

Joker nodded and backed off. It was nice to know one of your friends was looking out for you in your time of need.

He was wary of keeping Morgana alive but she was proving to be 'good people' as you had a habit of saying. A far cry from Florence.

Joker grumbled to himself just thinking about the Haitian.

Morgana jumped hearing a rare chuckle from the dark clown. "She'll like them. Now! Let's dis-cuss you. Sit."

Joker clapped his hands and pointed to the blue couch in your living room. He didn't wait for Morgana to act, he was already walking towards the kitchen to grab a water.

He noticed the leftovers in your fridge as he rummaged around for a drink. You probably needed to eat but he'd wait for the doc to look you over and decide what's best.

He snagged two water bottles and headed back to the living room but arrived to witness Morgana swirling a tumbler glass in her hands.

She took a big swig from it as he sat down opposite of her in an accent chair.

She wiped her mouth and tried to explain, "Don't judge me. I need hard liquor after all of this. Want one? I'm great at mixing drinks." She shimmied her shoulders but Joker wasn't amused.

He heard stories from Y/n about Morgana. Her and Florence were the heavy drinkers of the group.

"Y/n doesn't keep alcohol in her apartment." He noted.

Morgana laughed once and polished off her drink. She set it on the coffee table that separated them both. She noticed the clown was right at home in your place but had yet to find her and Flo's numerous stashes of liquor.

"What Y/n doesn't know won't kill her." She failed to dodge the water bottle Joker threw at her face. "OW! What was that for?!"

He sipped on the water while rolling his eyes. Morgana rubbed at her cheek and waited for the clown to finish. He drank the entire bottle in one pull before recapping the top and setting it down.

"Y/n likes to recycle. Ya know-  saving the.. turtles, uhh, one plastic at a time. That's my Light. Always caring for others; failing to take care of herself."

"Isn't she caring for you until you no longer need her?" She interrupted.

Joker licked his scars. Have patience. No need to take your frustrations out on others, he heard your voice recite in his head. He took a deep breath before smiling at Morgana.

"I'm noT leaving Y/n so that means I have to, uhh, geT along with the people in her life. So! This can be a lit-le experiment of sorts between usss. Let's see how long you can keep your mouth shut and I'll.... see how long I can tolerate you without murdering ya! Deal?"

Morgana was at a loss for words. What kind of agreement was that?

"I need another drink." She sighed. Joker's laugh was far more creepier in person than on tv.

The sound of the doorbell startled Morgana out of her task. She set the spray bottle down and jogged over to the front door to answer it.

She was pleasantly surprised when a beautiful woman was standing outside, chewing on bubble gum with an attitude.

"Can I help you?" Morgana asked.

The female looked up from her phone and glanced down the short hallway, at the elevator, and then back at Morgana.

"Tis boy better not have given me da wrong address. Hold on." She dialed a number and brought it to her ear.

Morgana was left awkwardly holding the door when the mysterious woman began arguing with whoever she called.

The commotion gained Joker's attention all the way in the living room. He recognized the woman at the door instantly. She did the same the moment she spotted Joker.

"Well well! If it isn't my sorry excuse for a patient! I see you're not restin' your leg like I told ya." She sighed.

Joker smiled and leaned on the door frame. "Be glad I didn't kill you after my checK up, doc." He fired back.

Morgana glanced back and forth between the two. "Uhh do you two know each other or something?"

The woman looked Morgana dead in the eye. "I don't know who this man is. I mean, he could be walking down the street, I wouldn't. Sorry to this man."

Joker laughed and she joined along but swatted his hands away when he tried to grab her neck.

The pair walked inside, leaving Morgana utterly confused in the foyer. She watched them talk amongst themselves like two old friends and caught up to them mid sentence.

"..and her hands are sooooo cold, doc. She's been crying her little heart out and passed out in my arms. Whatever can ya do?" Joker pouted as he held the bedroom door open for his esteemed guest.

She walked in and looked around. Leave it for Joker to find some chick with money. She sat her bag down on a nearby table and dug through it for some gloves. 

"Sounds like dehydration. When's the last time she ate?"

Morgana walked in and answered for Joker, "Last night around eight ish? It was a plate of dessert but she ate dinner too. Hi, I'm her friend and you are?"

"Name's Sarai. I'm this idiot's on-call doc." Sarai dabbed Morgana up before facing her employer. "Now, where's my patient?"

Joker was too busy stewing in jealousy. He liked secret handshakes too. What gives?

"You don't do that with me doc. I thought we were errr close."

She eyed him like a fed up mother would her child. "You ain't black, Joker. Now move." She pushed him aside and approached the bed, but stopped as if she saw a ghost.

She treated hundreds of patients a day but she never forgot a face. "I remember her."

Sarai picked up your hands and sure enough, the jagged cut that she treated almost a month ago was still there. Your hands were cold to the touch just like Joker said and also a bit clammy.

"Did you do this?" She pointed at your palms. Joker sat down by your side and had the decency to look ashamed. He sighed before nodding.

Both Sarai and Morgana stared at him in disbelief. He looked so remorseful.

Joker was such a man child at times. One would have thought Sarai scolded him with the way he was acting. She flicked her braids over her shoulder with a huff.

Today they were blonde butterfly locs reaching down to her waist. When she shook her head, they moved with her. Joker eyed them curiously. How did she work in the hospital with such long braids?

"I knew I shoulda filed a police report. Her shoddy story bout mistakin' the pepper grinder for a knife was too sketchy."

She donned her pink gloves before she gently opened your mouth. "Ah, as I thought. She's dehydrated. You want an IV in her?"

Morgana stood on the other side of the bed to watch this interaction up close. There was actually a person not afraid of The Joker!

This supposed doctor was talking to him any kind of way and he paid her no mind. She would demand something out of her bag and he would grab it, no questions asked.

But he pushed Morgana to the ground and threw water bottles at her when she raised her voice at him. This man was truly unpredictable.

Morgana let her intrusive thoughts get the better of her. "So you're a real doctor and you willingly work for him?"

She slapped a hand over her mouth after she spoke but it was too late. Sarai was inserting an IV into your arm but chuckled at the insult. She admired her handiwork before replying.

"Dr. Sarai Obukofe, chief trauma surgeon at Gotham General. Joker's house calls pays more tho. Don't give me dat look. I'm from Blüdhaven, his crimes ain't nothin' n' Jokester here won't hurt friends of da family. Won't ya now?" She nudged his leg with her own.

Joker hummed. It was neither affirmative or negative.

Morgana slowly nodded. She picked up the thick Blüdhaven accent at the door but she was still confused.

"Friends of the family?" She questioned.

Sarai rigged the IV bag to your bedpost. It would have to do since she didn't pack an IV pole. Not like she could.

This was an off the books house call after all. She received a text from her cousin saying to come to an address with her crash kit– strictly on the low.

Sarai automatically knew it was for Joker. She couldn't refuse the job even if today was her rare day off.

She blew a bubble and popped it sharply before eyeing Joker. "How deep is she?" She jerked her head at Morgana.

Joker didn't look away from you to answer. "Accident. I'm con-sider-ing offing her later."

Sarai grimaced and cast sympathetic eyes on Morgana. "Ouch, so an outsider then."

She checked you over when you began to shiver. "Frost mentioned on the phone that she had a 'traumatic experience.' Care ta explain that?"

Morgana had enough. She cut through the air with her hand in a fit of rage.

"No, no! Go back! I thought we had a deal, Joker! We shared a drink together, you said you'd keep me alive if I helped you with this 'get along with others' experiment of yours. Now you're thinking about killing me again? Make up your mind!"

Joker was about to when you whimpered and stole everyone's attention. They were being too loud.

"You're disturbing my patient. Either lower ya voice or move dis conversation elsewhere." Sarai hissed at Morgana.

The florist was trying to keep her cool. These two strangers just barged into your place as if they owned it and had the audacity to boss her around!

She couldn't even defend herself! Morgana wished she'd let Dick stay behind instead. He probably would've handled this situation a bit better than her. Sure he would've fought with Joker and possibly died in the process, but he wouldn't have sided with the madman to stay alive. GCPD would have the place surrounded with Batman en route by now.

She had half a mind to sneak away and call the authorities but one look at you had her second guessing that decision.

The last thing you needed was more stress and strangers surrounding you and your space. You required peace and quiet to heal.

But this clown was on thin f__king ice with her.

It was a lot to handle on a Friday afternoon and Morgana wasn't about to let Joker or this doctor mess with her energy. She took a relaxing breath and found her center.

"I will not let your indecisiveness get the better of me. However if we're to get along– whatever the hell that means, you gotta stop threatening to kill me." Morgana said.

Joker looked at Sarai as if she had the answers.

The doctor was putting away her tools and had no parts in this. She'd stick around until Joker called her back to remove the IV. Other than that, her job was done.

That is until you groaned and blinked your eyes open.

Everyone held their breath in anticipation. You squinted your eyes a few times until you felt a tightness on your forearm.

Much to your horror there was a hospital IV inserted in your vein. You began to claw at it when Joker reached out and stopped you.

"Hey. Hey.. leave thaT alone, baby doll." Your eyes darted up to him.

It took you longer than he liked to recognize him again, but you were slowly coming back to yourself.

"J.. it's cold." Your fingernail picked at the tape Sarai attached to keep the needle in place.

You hated doctors and you hated medical treatment. It reminded you too much of that night and the following weeks thereafter. You didn't want to think about it again, and Joker was right there to distract you from it all.

His hand rested atop yours and squeezed. He felt like a furnace. He sighed, "I knooow but, it's gonna make ya feel better. You uhh want me to hold you? Promise I'm warm, hmm?"

His thumb rubbed circles on your darker skin as you thought over his offer. You relented with a weak nod.

Joker stood up to climb into the bed with you but looked up at something within the room.

"Close the door on your way out. Now."

You wondered who he was talking to and followed his gaze. You and Morgana locked eyes. She was calm, way too calm to be in Joker's presence and the crazy part– he allowed her to be.

Your eyes went back and forth between her and Joker as the wheels in your brain spun out of control. Surely this was a dream.

There was no way Joker would let another one of your friends in on his secret. Then you spotted a third individual standing off to the side. She looked familiar but you couldn't place her at present.

Your mind was too busy grasping at the reality of Joker and Morgana being in the same room without the latter being murdered.

That dream you had of a little boy by the river whispered in your mind.

'She knows and now she has to die.'

He wasn't talking about Florence. He was referring to Morgana.

You shot forward and grabbed a hold Joker's suit vest in a surprisingly strong grip. He looked down at you in intrigue as you started spouting nonsense.

"Not her! Please don't kill her Joker! She's my friend. Y-You promised me!" You were leaving wrinkles in Joker's shirt as Morgana rounded the bed to enter your line of vision.

"Y/n! Calm down, I'm right here! I'm okay!" She stole your attention but it came with a price. You let go of Joker to whirl on Morgana. It was her turn to hiss at your vice-like grip.

"You can't be here! You have to leave Gana. You didn't see nothing! Deny everything! Please.. I-I can't lose you too. I can't lose another friend.. Please."

You sobbed into her arms and she glared at Joker who was still standing off to the side, speechless.

He was coping with the fact you begged him not to kill someone and that he felt obligated to obey.

He wasn't going to let Morgana leave the apartment building alive but the moment you begged him, Joker's hands were tied. He promised he'd never hurt you. That meant physically, mentally, and emotionally. You stopped The Joker with three simple words.

You promised me.

He stood frozen, awaiting your next orders for he truly did not know what to do after discovering the power you held over him.

Morgana managed to get you to lie back on the bed as your burst of adrenaline died out. You felt sluggish all of a sudden.

Sarai stood watch as the pain meds she added to your IV line started to kick in. You fought against the fog and looked over at Joker.

His eyes instantly found yours and thus the staring match began. Your drugged induced gaze had a clear warning in them and you made sure to declare it vocally.

"You hurt my friends.. and I'll never.. forgive you." You fell back asleep and the room breathed a sigh of relief.

Joker feared nothing in this life but your warning hit him like a ton of bricks. He hoped you would forget all of this when you woke up.

If not, then he was in deep trouble.

[candiedspit]

I am a 25 yr old writer w/ an [English] degree too, working a bullshit job that has nothing to do with writing and feeling very lost. I also get in fights with my mom that make me wanna die. I don’t know what we are supposed to do about this besides persist with as much dignity as we can summon, but I find it beautiful that I was able to meet your words out there in the ether—it makes me feel like Out There is maybe much smaller than I imagined, and much more filled with kindred spirits like yourself. If how one writes can speak at any volume to how one processes the natural world, I can say with confidence that you are not alone. Thank you for sharing your mind with the rest of us, you have just inspired me to do that more too

The way this made me tear up ….its so simple but it’s so so nice when you know someone else is going through what you’re going through….i believe that there’s definitely hope for us…we can make our lives beautiful…I’m glad the ether brought us together 💖💖💖

[alexbraindump]

the optimism of mundanity in sci-fi

[word count: 980]

Mundanity serves my favorite role in worldbuilding. Beyond fictional politics, cultures or races sits the - often overlooked - role of the mundane. The things we do in our day-to-day lives. Where we keep our keys, our routines before going out for the day, the junk we may leave lying around. It’s part of a tiny picture that lingers in the shadows of the vast worlds we build and stories we weave. Yet from that snapshot blossoms a viewpoint dripping with relatability, one that places you into the shoes of a character living in that world to a capacity far beyond that which anything else could even hope to achieve.

When I’m writing a character introduction, it’s about more than just the character’s current position and desires. It’s about integrating the world into their life. If space travel is a commonplace fixture of their world and they own a spaceship, what’s the role of that ship to them? Is it like a car, a mobile home, a flying armory? If it’s like a car, have they left it stock, or have they modified and tuned the way a car lover would in real life? If it’s like a home, what furniture do they deem priority, do they keep it clean, is there any decoration? If an armory, what’s the weaponry of this universe like, what kinds of weapons do they want to keep loaded, how organized is it? (check out the first chapter of my story 501-b, also on this blog, if you wanna see where that though process brought me ;3)

Opportunities for both character and worldbuilding are already pouring out from that simple hypothetical. So many things can be said right away with the mundane relationship between a character and their mode of transport. To them, that’s just how it is, nothing special. The same way you’d look at a car. To the reader, though? That’s a nuclear bomb of information you just detonated in their face and they probably didn’t even realize. If you get how a character views their ship, you already start to understand their personality and the role of space travel in that world right off the bat.

It’s always been alluring to me, an element my mind would hook its foxy paws onto right away. While the lack of it wouldn’t bug me much, I’d always start to wonder about it later. Where does this character live, what’s their home look like? By no means am I arguing that this is an absolute necessity to make a good story. Every story has its own unique needs that can be filled however the creator sees fit. But for me, what I want to see and make more of, is something more down-to-earth. And while a good chunk of that is - admittedly - just me being a neurodivergent nerd, I feel like there’s something more to it. Forgive me for getting a little pretentious from here on out, but-

Mundanity in sci-fi is optimistic. It’s this tinge of reassurance that, no matter what happens, no matter how bad things get or how far we make it away from our home planet, we’re still individuals. Whether its huge, bombastic threats like scary evil aliens, or depressingly real ones like corporate overreach and profit motives, we will persist. There’s comfort in that.

When I get to see a character doing their morning routine in a world separated from our own by anything between decades to centuries, it feels good. Like the artist/writer is patting me on the head and saying “there there, things may be shit, but life isn’t going anywhere anytime soon.” And maybe there’s a nihilistic twist on it, like propaganda on a television or corporate products lining a comfy home’s shelves, but that’s still a television or a home. They may come home from the Sub-Minimum Wage Employee Pulper 9,000™, and that will inherently be sympathetic, but when we get to see them toss their coat aside and go to the kitchen to make a lazy, unhealthy meal and slouch on their sofa and pick up a television remote to flip to their favorite channel, the connection that forms is irreplaceable.

And I feel that it’s severely underutilized. When I watched Andor for the first time (amazing show btw, check it out even if you aren’t the biggest fan of starred wars) and we got to see a character return to their mother’s apartment and eat space cereal with space milk, it was somehow one of the most jarring moments I’ve seen in a Star Wars thing. Living situations are oftentimes such an understated part of popular sci-fi media that I actually felt jarred upon seeing one. And I loved it.

That’s just how uncommon they can be. And I hate that. I hate that sci-fi loves to dismiss the mundanities of life, because those are when I feel the most at-home in a universe. I can immediately feel a character’s vibe if I see them kick their feet up in a messy impromptu living room in their spaceship. While you can put in the work to make me feel that same thing through dialogue and actions, it’s arguably even more work.

So next time you’re making a story, why not save yourself some trouble and show your audience a little snippet of day-to-day life in your world? Show us what a character’s phone looks like and how they use it, or maybe if they have a wallpaper (if applicable) or any stickers on the back of it? Or give us some tiny details about how they get from place to place. Is public transport a thing, do they own their own vehicle of some kind, or do they just walk? Hopefully these thoughts conjure the same kind of inspiration in you as the ones that run around wreaking havoc in my little fox brain.

[dbblovesklance]

I should not care about a show that ended many years ago, nor of a couple that probably was never supposed to be together, yet, I shall persist to do so until my mind is settled.

Beware: Voltron Spoilers Ahead

I would definitely need to rewatch Voltron if I wanted to write any fics for Klance nowadays, but everything that went down in the later seasons really makes me not like that idea.

I'll be honest, I don't remember any that happens after season six, my brain blacked those out completely to save me from my heartache and a rage induced coma. (I care too much, I know)

Why have Allura and Lance end up together only to kill her in the end? To hurt Lance? To hurt the audience? Frankly, all you did was annoy and upset us.

Seeing scenes or mentions of later season stuff happening (like what happened with Allura in the end) makes me see red. And with what happened with Lance and Allura happening before hand, feels like a slap in the face, especially having Shiro briefly shown at his own wedding, married a man? To someone we knew NOTHING about and have zero connection to?

Why did you accept that but not Klance?

What was the point have all those scenes with Lance and Keith if they weren't going to be together? Was it really only for friendship and team connection? If so, explain why Keith didn't have those connections with anyone else, besides Shiro. Though you will not convince me of those two being anything besides having a brother/cousin dynamic.

Maybe it's been too long ago and I'm looking at it through dented red colored glasses, but I remember loving the idea of Klance being together since the very beginning.

I'll rewatch the early ones and write fluff and them getting together out of spite to the writers who did us dirty.

I think I'll just live in my little fanon fantasy where Klance does happen and they live happily ever after. And thanks to fanfiction, I can do just that.

It's not about that Klance didn't become canon, rather, it's about the potential they had that is now wasted.

[ruthlesslistener]

How accurate/believable do you feel the bug behavior is in hollow knight? And if you find it inaccurate/unbelievable do you find that it affects the enjoyability of the story told? I really enjoy stories that center on fictional creatures (which I believe is called fantastical xenofiction?) but I always find myself anxious bout making stuff believable since I know nothing about regular biology, and it feels like most writers of xenofiction whether more humanoid or animalistic have a degree or at least some advanced schooling in biology that informs their writing.

Oh my friend, don't worry at all about biological or behavioral accuracy in Hollow Knight, because there is very little of it present and the fact that they are an advanced species means that it merely has an influence on their behavior, such as Leg Eater and Divine's cannibalistic courtship, Flukemarm's family system, or Willoh eating other bugs. Hollow Knight appears to be set in a completely alternate universe where invertebrates filled the niche of the large vertebrate species we see today (bc why else does gruz mother have bone in it), so while there are species that are analogous to the ones on our planet, it's not entirely 1:1. That's part of my enjoyment of it, actually- we're given just enough similarities and tidbits for us to base them off of irl creatures, but they're also different enough from our bugs that personal interpretations have a lot of breathing space. Their species will infer how they view and act in the world, which is something we see in the above examples, but because they evolved to live in civilizations, how much of that base instinct ends up persisting in the society is variable and up to headcanon. That's why I like it so much- because the game makes it very clear that these civilized bugs are very much not human, and builds the world and the culture of each tribe around it. The spiders and mantids of Deepnest and the Fungal Wastes being eager or unbothered by killing/eating other sapient bugs makes sense, but does not detract from the fact that both tribes harbour sympathetic or deeply honourable characters. Hollow Knight embraces the fact that each species of bug has different needs while also sticking fast to the anthropomorphic characteristics that makes them so relatable, making it a believable alternate society setup that does not discriminate which tribes are 'good' or 'bad'. Which was actually what threw me off in Bug Fables more than the inaccurate biology, as in Bug Fables, the socialized bugs were all herbivorous while the 'evil', feral bugs (with the exception of one, the tarantula sorcerer) were all carnivores. That just doesn't make any sense to me, and it bothered me more than all the other biological inconsistencies in the game- because I can assume if bugs have developed a new language and civilization, their biology wouldn't match the bugs in our world. Having consistency in worldbuilding rules is much more important than biological accuracy.

I also don't think that a background in biology is a necessity in order to enjoy xenofiction. Much of what I learned about bugs and snakes is information that I learned in my free time rather than learn in the classroom (though some of my classes did indeed inspire or reinforce some of the stuff I've made up, such as wyrms being simultaneous hermaphrodites due to mate scarcity). Having a background schooling in biology will make understanding your research easier, yes, but learning how to read scientific papers is a skill that every biology student needs to learn, no matter how long they've been in school. If you're determined enough (and curious enough), then you too can do the research necessary to flesh out the biology and behavior of fictional species! All you need is plenty of curiosity and free time, and the patience to chew through some tough, dry words to get to the meat of the good stuff. As long as your worldbuilding is consistent, the amount of biologically accurate material in your writing is more of a secondary thing to worry about.

(If you want a tip though, do a deep dive into the evolution of reproductive behaviors to help you get a basic idea of how different social structures evolve. Sex is a pretty key factor to how animals behave and evolve, with resource scarcity/location, scarcity of mates, difficulty of rearing young, tertiary sex ratio differences, and the harshness of the environment all leading to different social structures, physiology, and behavior. It's pretty fascinating stuff, and is a great help in determining how a fictional society might work.)

[peachypizzicato]

The Five Of Cups: An Open Letter to Dorian

Hey everyone! Welcome back to my soapbox (or, if you see this and by some divine happenstance don’t know me: Hi! I’m Felix! Or Anemone. I go by many names.)

As you can tell by my Big Boy Letters, I’m comin’ to talk about kind of a serious subject. At least, it’s serious to me anyway. I wanted to talk a bit about the game The Arcana. You know the one. The definitely not at all divisive one. That Arcana. (/s)

(Warning: I will be touching on depictions of racism, misogyny, anti indigenity, antisemitism, and just general mistreatment of marginalized people!)

TLDR; The Arcana is full of harmful portrayals of marginalized people and the fandom at large ignores it at best and encourages it at worst. The best thing we as the community can do is make it abundantly clear to the company that this is not okay and should not continue.

To be completely upfront here, I’m not going to be going in-depth on every single problem with the devs or the distributors or anything. We’re all busy people and there’s not nearly enough time in the day. But what I am going to do is touch on a few things I’ve witnessed firsthand that I think are worth sharing with the wider community.

One of the behaviors I’ve noticed most often is what I can only think to call… Strange treatment of the love interests. Not by everyone, mind you, but on a startlingly normal basis. Now, what do I mean by “strange”? Well, it really depends on the character honestly.

With Asra, much of the portrayals feel significantly more sexualized than that of their peers. Drawn and portrayed as if their body exists to be ogled by someone else rather than lived in by themself, y’know what I mean? That, combined with blatant orientalist imagery baked into much of their designs, makes for a feeling of feast or famine when seeking out content. And this isn’t even to comment on the intense focus on them as defined by their relationships to others– namely Julian– and all of the mischaracterization that comes with that.

It’s not much different in regard to Nadia, if you can believe it. The image of “step-on-me-queen dominatrix” cultivated by the original writers persists in the community, with overwhelming focus put on her body and her sexuality over anything else. Anyone who’s known me since I discovered the game knows I actually really liked her at first, but it’s hard to have a genuine attachment to a character who seldom even gets to have a personality outside of basic traits and Having Tits.

Julian is, admittedly, a difficult one. I am not jewish myself, but I’ve heard testimony from jewish fans that his portrayal is less than ideal (to put it lightly). At the very base, his design itself is riddled with common antisemitic imagery and was based primarily on a real brown-skinned jewish man whose melanated skin they excluded, surely coincidentally (/s). but it goes even further than that (depicting a jewish man as a bloodsucking vampire, anyone?). I don’t claim to speak for any groups I do not belong to, but with the knowledge I do have it simply makes things uncomfortable to witness.

Muriel. Oh, Muriel. Again, if you’ve known me for any significant amount of time, you probably knew I was dreading this. But as much as I’d like to think nothing could ever be wrong when he’s around, there are definitely problems. Now, I could go into all the issues with the way the writers concocted his route, his story, his character as a whole (brown man with a ~foreign~ type of magic lives in solitude in the woods and is “in tune with nature” to the point of communication, very original /s), what I really want to touch on here is how this informed the way the community treats him. Listen, I’m not gonna sugarcoat this, a lot of Muriel fans are not subtle about their (most often white, but not always) savior complexes. More times than I care to remember I’ve seen him babied, treated like he’s incompetent, made at best into an animal to be tamed and at worst into an uncontrollable monster. I’ve seen pieces of fanfiction call him, a very blatantly indigenous-coded character, a real actual slur. Not to mention how watering down the trauma he faced has become something of commonplace. And this isn’t even an exhaustive list of ways he’s mistreated! For as much as it makes me angry, it’s also extremely saddening. The devs and writers made one of their most genuine kindhearted characters into a metaphorical punching bag, and the community has only continued swinging for years afterward.

But, I think I’ve made my point. Moving on.

Portia is a combination of problems I’ve already touched on. Conveniently, all of the stereotypical traits that Julian inherited happened to skip right over his little sister. What didn’t skip over, however, was the gene of being shamelessly and gratuitously oversexualizing of her. Take a look at any of her CGs; most if not all of them are centered on her chest or otherwise use color and design to draw the eye there. Every one of her sprite outfits are low cut to show varying levels of cleavage. And the few vocal fans she does have only serve to perpetuate this over and over again. To be completely clear, there’s nothing wrong with characters who embrace their sexuality. That goes without saying. However, for being the one “plus-size” love interest– which really in this case only means short and curvy– the emphasis on her body over anything else about her is startling and sad.

Finally, we find Lucio. Our one ethnically white male love interest. You may be wondering how a character like that could possibly receive “strange treatment”. Or maybe you’re not. I will elaborate anyway. The biggest problem with Lucio, with the fans and absolutely with the teams behind the game, is and has been for the longest time the complete and utter lack of awareness of his role in the world and the consistent retroactive rewriting of his character. What I mean by that is this: Lucio, originally and in every route but his own, is blatantly written to be an unforgivably cruel and immoral man. He seeks the best treatment he can get while cityfolk all but die in his streets, he takes advantage of the kindness and generosity of others and punishes their trust. There are many assumptions that can be made but we are shown explicitly that he can know Asra, a child (as an adult himself), and make sexual advances on them in adulthood with absolutely no guilt. He blackmailed Muriel into being and staying his slave and in turn forced him to perform brutal public massacres for an indeterminate amount of time: all we know is that it was long enough for a colloquial name to become well known and for his appearance to grow unkempt and haggard. All this plus more things that I don’t even have the time to list. And yet, he is arguably one of the most popular characters. Take two steps into the fandom at large and you’ll see countless postings about how his childhood was so tragic and how he’s so very sorry, he’s just a little oopsie whoopsie uwu soft boy! The few times I personally have seen his horrible actions even addressed by his fans was to underplay them, to insinuate that he has it worse than anyone he hurt. In spite of, or maybe even because of his extensive list of broadly observable crimes, he thrives in the community. The people love him. I don’t think I really have to explain why this in particular is so extremely chilling to me.

So, with all of these things laid out… What now? We’ve acknowledged the problems, there’s pages upon pages of other posts outlining ones I didn’t even cover here, so now what do we do? What’s the solution?

The answer to this isn’t quite cut and dry. There’s no simple solution to murky waters that run as deep as these do. But, for what it’s worth, I have a few suggestions I’d like to propose.

First off, I understand that all of the routes are finished. They had all completed well before the Dorian acquisition, I’m fully aware of that fact. However, in regard to said acquisition, I feel as though Dorian dropped the ball when transferring the property to their own app (and I’m not even talking about the writing of the tales, which is its own can of worms). Rather than simply copy-pasting the routes from the existing app, things could’ve been redone, remade better. Problems could have been solved now that the game had gained new life. This was much of the inspiration behind my own reworking of the concept, to address the problems and fix them. I don’t even believe that it’s too late for them yet; routes have only just begun being uploaded to the Dorian app, in theory there’s still room to reconsider things.

But that’s the problem. I don’t believe that the crew behind Dorian really cares. I don’t believe the original development team or Nix Hydra crew really cared. If the people involved really cared about these problems, there was ample time within the last nearly five years to fix things. They did nothing. They continue to do nothing. People like me shout endlessly into the void, hoping someone will hear and actually listen to the issues happening within their game. But they don’t care. They continue to make money, they continue to draw in players, why should they? If racism and misogyny and every other form of bigotry under the sun doesn’t hurt their bottom line, why change anything? Why care, why change if the community at large not only ignores it but actively encourages and supports it? Why listen to criticism if you can just block it and soak up praise from your unconditional fans? Why?

As I said, I don’t have a simple solution for any of this. But I’ve made personal choices in my own life to give less of my time and money to the company. If I want merchandise, I seek out independent artists. If I want to see or read something again, I can find screencaps. As much as I miss certain things, I don’t play the game anymore. I can’t help being attached to characters who have been important to me for as long as I’ve known them, but what I can do is make purposeful choices in response to the affection I feel. Maybe my singular actions won’t mean anything to them, but specifically and purposefully refusing to support the profits of a fundamentally flawed game that doesn’t even have the self awareness to be ashamed of itself means everything to me.

Thanks for listening. I hope anyone who happened to make it to this point can take something good from my impassioned ramblings.

[emmersreads]

My Top 5 Best Books of 2023

Scrolling through bookstagram's endless reels of folks bemoaning the state of readerly types - new publications are disposable crap, everyone else is reading too much, etc - it might seem like 2023 was a terrible year for books. But, of all my longlists, this one was the longest, and the one I had the most trouble cutting down to only six. I read 119 books in 2023 (you can read my round-up of my five worst here), and here are my five favourites. Every single one of these books deserves to top your tbr for 2024.

Read the post on my blog!

Honourable Mention: Yellowface - R. F. Kuang

R.F. Kuang has figured out how to use irony and its a good look on her. Kuang’s political messaging is great — I particularly enjoyed her depiction of the publishing industry’s white fragility as deeply stupid — but we already knew that. I would expect nothing less from the author of Babel. The think that elevates Yellowface in particular is Kuang’s self-awareness in depicting Athena, the Asian writer whose novel the protagonist steals, as a talented literary wunderkind, but also as frustrating and not necessarily innocent in the problem of who is allow to tell ethically-loaded stories. I’m definitely looking forwards to her next project.

Fifth Place: Small Worlds - Caleb Azumah Nelson

This is the diverse romance novel you’ve been looking for. This is the inspiring hopepunk novel you’ve been looking for. This is the insightful and emotional coming-of-age novel you’ve been looking for. Small Worlds is all the more comforting and heart-warming because it is primarily about persistence and joy in the face of crushing personal failure and devastating systemic violence. Caleb Azumh Nelson’s motif of relationships in which both partners must break up in order to become the kind of people who can be in a long-term relationship with each other is a kind of romance arc I unexpectedly love. This entry in particular gets extra credit for its incredibly good audiobook adaptation. The audiobook is narrated by the author, whose southeast London accent and obvious emotional connection to novel make it the ideal way to read.

Fourth Place: Breasts and Eggs - Mieko Kawakami

After a couple of truly miserable memoirs this year I declared that I simply did not want to hear writers talk about motherhood. I spoke too soon because then I read this. Breasts and Eggs is in incredible reflection on being a woman that has something to offer if you love being a woman, if you hate it, or if you feel ambivalent about it. I don’t like children and can’t imagine ever wanting one — to the point that I find the endless angsting about the conflict between writing and motherhood faintly nauseating — but I found that this was the first book about being a mother that had something interesting to say even for people who never want to be mothers. Kawakami’s novel-in-translation has (for the anglophone reader) a sense of strangeness both in form and content. The book’s approach to gender and family is often intimately familiar, but just as often introduces a perspective that is deeply strange to a western reader, provoking us to think about our own assumptions about the importance of family. I particularly liked the scene in which protagonist Natsu visits a bath house and encounters a woman in a relationship with a trans man in the female section of the bath. Natsu struggles through a long thought process of whether she ought to be offended or not. Would she be similarly offended if she encountered cis lesbian PDA?

Third Place: Penance - Eliza Clark

For me, Penance was intensely personal, like looking back on my own teenagerhood. I also grew up as a deeply strange child, something that was immediately recognized by the other children. That feeling of somehow being a different species from other kids, not doing anything right and not understanding how it is wrong, is something that this novel absolutely nails. That might be a strange association for a true crime story about a horrible schoolgirl murder. This is the dramatic extension of what could happen to five people who were once very lonely little girls, and I think reading too much into the ‘how could they do something like this?’ of it all is missing the forest for the trees and playing into the true crime gaze that the book criticizes. Clark is interested both in true crime that dehumanizes its subject matter, and true crime the aspires to humanize and platform them. Is it any more ethical to demand access to someone’s life out of love?

Second Place: He Who Drowned the World - Shelley Parker-Chan

Shelley Parker-Chan’s The Radiant Emperor duology is the best queer fantasy series out there. Period. He Who Drowned the World takes its engagement with gender and sexuality to another level. At least for me, there is something much more meaningful and impactful to the theme of gender as something performed in spite of difficulties, distrust, and lack of acknowledgement. Parker-Chan understands that gender is often unpleasant or even hateful. This isn’t a book for a brave new utopia where every bra fits on the first try, it’s for the present, where the wrong bra gives you a fibrous lump. If She Who Became the Sun was Zhu embracing her gender, the sequel is about Ouyang’s often deeply upsetting ability to accept his. His hatred of any femininity, first and foremost his own, isn’t an easy read, but I found there was something incredibly resonant in it to my own ambivalent feelings towards femininity. No one else depicts self-hatred this well.

First Place: Chain-Gang All-Stars - Nana Kwame Adjei-Brenyah

As soon as I finished Chain-Gang All-Stars I knew it would be my book of the year. I read a lot of great books but this blew every single one of them out the water. It is Gladiator by way of The Shawshank Redemption by way of professional wrestling. It’s the scifi sequel to The New Jim Crow and Ava DuVernay’s 13th. It’s the best love story of the year. Chain-Gang All-Stars is an exploration of the humanity of inmates, who, in this world, are objectified both due to their involvement in the criminal justice system (as in ours) and from the gaze of sports and reality entertainment. It’s hard to decide which aspect of this book is most technically impressive. I usually don’t like when a political novel tries to comment on too many different issues, but this book deftly balances deep and effective discussions on a huge range of topics. I especially appreciated its engagement with an inmates’ personal feelings of guilt and culpability within a carceral system that doesn’t care at all about remediating the harm they have caused. This deft political messaging is combined with an insightful depiction of the ambivalent success of professional athletes, multidimensional characters, and a touching romance. My favourite part of the book was how effectively it traps the reader. I understand and agree with all the condemnations of the exploitation inherent to entertainment in watching primarily BIPOC athletes destroy their health (this is about wrestling but also boxing and American football), but I still found myself thinking about just how incredible this book would be as a TV series. The use of complicity as a theme is unparalleled.

[aniron48]

20 questions for fic writers

Thank you for the tag, @anyawen! These were so much fun!

Answers under the cut, and tagging @sweetbabyangels, @mr-iskender, @stinastar, @aprettyspy and @thestalwartheart, in case you haven't done this already and it's of interest!

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 30! That number seems astonishing to me now, considering I started writing fic in earnest like a year-and-a-half ago. 😁

2. What’s your total A03 word count? 138,358

3. What fandoms do you write for? James Bond, Glass Onion/Knives Out, and I just wrote my first fic for The Old Guard fandom, which has pulled me in by the lapels and refused to let me go. And the very first fic I ever wrote was for Stardew Valley.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos? 1. A Good Man (Benoit Blanc/Phillip) 2. rain (00q) 3. open line (00q) 4. The More Loving One (00q) 5. Must Love Cats (00q)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? Ok yes I definitely do and I love to *and also* I'm so sorry, I'm 288 days (yes I just checked) behind in responding to comments, because this year has been...something else. So, taking the opportunity to say that a) all of your comments are incredible bright spots for me, and b) I am working my way steadily through and enjoying your comments all over again as I re-read and respond to them.

6. What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? WELP (eyes my pile o' fics warily). If we go based off the fics with "Major Character Death" as a warning, for a certain value of angst, it's a tie between offering and and the wind at their backs. But both of these fics deal with grief, and the complicated emotions that result from the persistence of love even after the object of that love is gone, and there's some hope in that, too, I think.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? lmao most of the rest of them other than the two in number 6? 😂 this is a hard one to answer, so I'll list my RomCom-iest fics for now (Must Love Cats for 00q and in a space that they belong for The Old Guard). Special shout-out to 'tis the damn season, though, because the happiness at the end of this fic feels like some of the hardest fought, to me, and some of the tenderest I've written, I think.

8. Do you get hate on fics? No--I've gotten a few less than diplomatic comments, and a couple people making unflattering notes in bookmarks that I don't think they meant for me to see, but nothing terrible.

9. Do you write smut? ::offers you rain and for the age of the earth, and after as if I am a sommelier presenting you with some very fine wine:: "this one has notes of--" you know what I'm just going to stop there.

10. Do you write crossovers? I haven't yet!

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? No, thank goodness (knocks on wood).

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Not yet! #goals

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? Use. Your. Words., which was a collaborative poem for 007 fest 2023. 😁

14. What’s your all-time favourite ship? I spent about five minutes hemming and hawing about this but you know what, it's impossible to pick. 😂

15. What’s the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? Like Anyawen, I have aspirations of finishing all the ones hanging out in my Scrivener app...someday. Probably the one I have the most doubts about is a 5 + 1 fic where Bond tries out different activities post retirement. I still love the idea and some of the vision I had for this one, but it lives almost entirely in my head, still.

16. What are your writing strengths? I think maybe I have a good ear for language, both in terms of the rhythm of sentences and paragraphs, and for conveying a character's voice or accent. But it's hard to assess your own strengths, sometimes, so that's just my best guess!

17. What are your writing weaknesses? I'm actively working on trying to be better at descriptions, especially in giving details about setting or background. I realized I give these things short shrift, sometimes, and want to change that!

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic? I'll do it with languages I'm fluent in (and have done it with Spanish, since I'm a native speaker).

19. First fandom you wrote for? Stardew Valley, in What Dreams May Come.

20. Favourite fic you’ve ever written? Omg, another one that is almost impossible to answer! I think I have to go with all the flags we've hung. This is one of my least popular fics--it's a rarepair, the love depicted in it is complicated (though no less real), and it deals with light topics like, you know, structural racism in the United States. As one does. But it's a fic that's incredible close to my heart, for many reasons, and I remain so proud of this one.

Phew! If you have read all of this you deserve a cupcake. 💜

xoxo, Ani