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The New Hippies

THE NEW HIPPIES: The work abolition movement, anarcho-primitivism and biodynamism as ways to combat climate change

Essay for the course LOGS13b The Strategic Role of Responsibility in Business by Teppo Saari

Introduction

The course LOGS13b The Strategic Role of Responsibility in Business had the students think about and discuss the various ethical dimensions in business, moral dilemmas and choices to be made that a decision maker in business world come across every day.

This essay is motivated by our case study with a headline ’Investors urge European companies to include climate risks in accounts’ (Financial Times 2020). In this essay I will explore values and ethical principles that I see as the solutions to our case study and climate change in general. This is not to say that I could stand up for them in business world. Ironically, my main thread and leitmotif here is the untransformational nature of capitalism and business world. Thus, standing up to the values I will discuss here means doing less business, not more.

This essay is divided in three parts: problem – reaction – solution. These three parts will talk about the chosen values and ethical principles. They are by no means new: pragmatism – The Golden Rule – parsimony & naturality. They just seem to be in conflict with our modern way of living.

Thinking pragmatically about the problem

As part of our course assignment, we got to read about a group of investors managing trillions of dollars worth of assets who urged European companies to include climate risks in their accounts (Financial Times 2020). Scientists have warned us for decades, that pumping extreme amounts of CO2 into our atmosphere will result in melting of the polar ice caps (Mitchell 1989; Jones & Henderson-Sellers 1990), which will raise the sea level and drown some of the coastal cities (Peters & Darling 1985). Finally, capitalists are acting responsibly!

It would seem that capitalists actually cared for the planet and not just their profits. Or would it? Maybe they are scared of losing their future profits, and this kind of media escapade would bring back public trust and confidence in the system. It would be a sign that capitalists can act transparently, openly, accountably, respecting others (O’Leary 1993). But is changing the allocation in your investment portfolio really a sign of empathy? Would there be other ways to better express empathy in business?

Shareholders are interested in the risk their assets are facing, not necessarily in the welfare of the people. Investors acting virtuously can be just virtue-signaling or pleasing other elements in the society to take off media pressure and negative PR from them in a conformist way (Collinson 2003). Maybe they are just greenwashing their own conscience. Why is George Soros’ climate buzz astroturfing industrial complex (Morningstar 2019a) financing Greta Thunberg to do public PR campaigns targeting the youth? Maybe there is money in it. It is unlikely that it would have been dubbed ”A 100 trillion dollar storytelling campaign” without some particularly good reasons (Morningstar 2019b).

But there is something else in it too than just money: power and control. The person who gets to limit choices gets to dictate what kind of choices remain. And if a person has that kind of foreknowledge, then that person can be two steps ahead of us. And being two steps ahead of us means securing future profits. Including climate risks in accounts will imply controls. Controls are imposed on accounts, but ultimately it will mean controls imposed on people and their daily activities. Workers are the ones who will naturally suffer the consequences of management decisions. In this case management decisions are ’urged’ externally, from the owners’ part. After all, it is the corporations that are producing most of the climate change effects, in terms of pollution and greenhouse gases (Griffin 2017). People doing their jobs, working everyday, producing things but also at the same time producing climate effects. I would still love to hear politicians use more terms such as ”pollution” when talking about these issues. For it is unclear how reducing carbon emissions will reduce overall pollution that is also a contributor in the destruction of our environment (see eg. Bodo & Gimah 2020; Oelofse et al. 2007). Issues like microplastics, holes in the ozone layer, biodiversity loss, acid rains and soil degradation need to be talked about just as much, if not more so.

The problem is simple: too much economic activity producing too much climate impact, mostly pollution and greenhouse gases. Solving the Grand Challenge (Konstantinou & Muller 2020) of our time is harder if we wish to keep the fabric of our society intact. There’s a clear need for dialogue among stakeholders (Gardiner 1996), but how is it a dialogue if people are not actually listened to and don’t get to say how things will progress in society? What I am proposing is a meme-like solution that has the greater impact the more people adopt it. My solution is: stop working. Produce less. Stop supporting systems and mechanisms that produce climate effects. Stop supporting the mechanisms that don’t listen to your voice. Disconnect from the Matrix. Working a dayjob is one of these mechanisms. Although many people have realized the benefits of working from home (Kost 2020), a lot more needs to be done. Remote work is not available to everyone. Not all jobs are remote work.

Bob Black (2021) in his texts has advocated for the total and complete abolition of work. Stopping working naturally does not mean stopping doing things, it will merely mean stopping working a job, a concept which itself is a social construct. Black’s theses are simple but powerful. Working is the source of all ills, it is not compatible with ludic life (allthemore so in 2021), it is forced labour and compulsory production, it is replete with indignities called ”discipline”: ”surveillance, rotework, imposed work tempos, production quotas, punching -in and -out, etc”. Black does not only describe the negative ontological aspects of working, he goes deeper and invokes many familiar names of Greek philosophers:

Both Plato and Xenophon attribute to Socrates and obviously share with him an awareness of the destructive effects of work on the worker as a citizen and a human being. Herodotus identified contempt for work as an attribute of the classical Greeks at the zenith of their culture. To take only one Roman example, Cicero said that “whoever gives his labor for money sells himself and puts himself in the rank of slaves.” His candor is now rare, but contemporary primitive societies which we are wont to look down upon have provided spokesmen who have enlightened Western anthropologists. The Kapauku of West Irian, according to Posposil, have a conception of balance in life and accordingly work only every other day, the day of rest designed “to regain the lost power and health.” Our ancestors, even as late as the eighteenth century when they were far along the path to our present predicament, at least were aware of what we have forgotten, the underside of industrialization. Their religious devotion to “St. Monday” — thus establishing a de facto five-day week 150–200 years before its legal consecration — was the despair of the earliest factory owners. They took a long time in submitting to the tyranny of the bell, predecessor of the time clock. In fact it was necessary for a generation or two to replace adult males with women accustomed to obedience and children who could be molded to fit industrial needs. Even the exploited peasants of the ancient regime wrested substantial time back from their landlord’s work. According to Lafargue, a fourth of the French peasants’ calendar was devoted to Sundays and holidays, and Chayanov’s figures from villages in Czarist Russia — hardly a progressive society — likewise show a fourth or fifth of peasants’ days devoted to repose. Controlling for productivity, we are obviously far behind these backward societies. The exploited muzhiks would wonder why any of us are working at all. So should we.

Black notes that only ”a small and diminishing fraction of work serves any useful purpose independent of the defense and reproduction of the work-system and its political and legal appendages”. In similar vein, the late but great David Graeber saw the futility of most work. Calling this phenomenon ’bullshit jobs’ (Graeber 2018), Graeber sets out to describe what many of us are familiar with: we do useless things to make ourselves feel useful. Because modern society legitimizes itself with having people ’do’ stuff and not ’be’ a certain person. How can you (objectively) measure being? You can’t. But doing, that you can measure. This measurement then qualifies you as a member of society: productive, doing your part (an idiom that is a perfect example how you can’t escape the doing paradigm on a societal level). Graeber’s definition of a bullshit job is: if the position were eliminated, it would make no discernible difference in the world. In many cases these types of jobs are found to be supporting some kind of buraucracy, reporting, assisting decision makers, etc. Our current Matrix has its ways of creating more of these with the clever marketing concept called ’value’ (Petrescu 2019). They don’t make a difference, they create value.

Why would you want to overload the world by doing things that you nor most everyone else see no point in? Why would you waste your time doing pointless things? The easy answer to these questions is ’subsistence’. But there are many other ways to live on this planet. If you keep doing what the society tells you is acceptable or convenient, you will shut your eyes from the problem at hand: climate change.

Legitimizing anarcho-naturism as a solution with The Golden Rule

Our responsibility is to ourselves. We can not properly be held responsible for anything else. Yet the system of representational democracy does just this, holds us collectively responsible for many things, borrows money from creditors with our names on the loan collectively and then makes us pay for the loans. The way this Matrix works is yet another reason to disconnect from it. Or at least stop supporting it as much as possible.

The Golden Rule states: ”Treat others as you want to be treated” (Gensler 2013). From the perspective of climate change, it can first seem curious why you would quit your job and head for the hills. After all, we are facing a global issue here. There are people in need for help and I am running away? But I would see it as a way to get around our predicament. The Golden Rule can be also interpreted in Kantian way as the categorical imperative, particularly its first formulation: ”Act only according to that maxim whereby you can at the same time will that it should become a universal law”. This formulation is somewhat more proactive in nature. It talks about acting, doing things, and doing things is what is appreciated in our society, even when your goal is to exit the society.

Why exit the society? Is it enough to just quit your job and find something else to do, something that is more fulfilling and not bullshit? What an excellent question. Long before the advent of smart phones and 5G and DNA-vaccines, this question had been brought up to the table. In the 1800s, people were realizing the negative impact industrialization was having on society at large. People were rooted out from their family homes in the countryside, forced to move to a large city to look for a job, crammed into small apartments with dozens of other workers, coerced into working long and hard days at factories to make a living. The lowly misery of these people attracted the attention of a certain Friedrich Engels, who felt their situation was not adequate to make up for the suffering they had gone through. He meticulously described the working conditions of the English working class in his ”The Condition of the Working Class in England” (2003 [1845]), originally published in German. Sociology as a science was established by Karl Marx, Max Weber and Emile Durkheim to study these changes. Slowly but surely, the influx of people into cities started to cause issues, something that mayors and other municipal representatives had to start taking care of. Planning and zoning were given a lot more attention, since the earlier modus operandi of old European cities had been rather laissez faire (Sutcliffe 1980).

Against this backdrop of massive societal change, people started to question the changes and their direction. Are we really nothing more than slaves, just working in a different environment? Slavery might not be the right word or context here. Many people believe to be free, govern themselves and their property, and yet their daily actions and options to choose from seem to be eerily limited. They have only so many choices, most of which seem somehow related to running their errands. A more appropriate term, with all its connotations, here would be the Greek word ananke, ”force, constraint, necessity”. Like a force of nature, progress towards modernity necessitates that people leave their family homes and go work in large factories, compulsively manufacturing endless amounts of products, some of which are necessary, others merely decorations, and some just pointless.

Many names in 19th century New England worked upon a vision for the future society at a time when unprecedented changes were taking place and the standard of living was rising faster than ever before. The Transcendental Club was a group of New England authors, philosophers, socialists, politicians and intellectuals of the early-to-mid-19th century which gave rise to Transcendentalism, the first notable American intellectual movement. Transcendentalist believe in the inherent goodness of people and nature, but that society and its institutions — particularly organized religion and political parties — corrupt the purity of the individual. (Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy 2003; Sacks 2003.) Transcendentalism is a unique mix of European Romanticism, German (particularly Kantian) philosophy, and American Christianity. The impact of this movement can still be seen in the many flavours of American anarchist and radical Christian movements.

Out of the ranks of Transcendentalists rose a couple of names that can be viewed as the progenitors of modern anarcho-primitivism and natur(al)ist anarchy. Ralph Waldo Emerson was the central figure of the Transcendental Club, who together with Henry David Thoreau critiqued the contemporary society for its ”unthinking conformity” and advocated for “an original relation to the universe” (Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy 2003). Emerson’s Nature (2009 [1836]) poetically embellishes our view of the natural world, while Thoreau’s Walden; or, Life in the Woods (1995 [1854]) is a call for civil disobedience and revolt against the modern world. Another influential natur(al)ist writer has been Leo Tolstoi whose name is frequently mentioned by anarchists. Tolstoi himself was a Christian and pacifist, and his writings have inspired Christian anarcho-pacifism that views the state as ”immoral and unsupportable because of its connection with military power” (Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy 2017).

Before the Transcendentalist movement, Europe experienced similar trend in philosophy with Jean-Jacques Rousseau’s natural philosophy. Rousseau touched upon many subjects: freedom, free will, authority, nature, morality, societal inequality, representation and government. Like Transcendentalists, Rousseau held a belief that human beings are good by nature but are rendered corrupt by society. ”Rousseau clearly states that morality is not a natural feature of human life, so in whatever sense it is that human beings are good by nature, it is not the moral sense that the casual reader would ordinarily assume” (Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy 2010). Rousseau’s work is relevant to many of the social movements that currently fight against COVID restrictions, vaccination agenda, building of 5G antenna towers next to where people live, polluting the environment, systemic poverty and general disconnection from the natural world. Rousseau, although regarded as a philosopher, saw philosophy itself negatively, and to him philosophers were ”the post-hoc rationalizers of self-interest, as apologists for various forms of tyranny, and as playing a role in the alienation of the modern individual from humanity’s natural impulse to compassion” (Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy 2010).

Rousseau’s days did not see capitalism as we see it now. It was later Marx (influenced by Hegel, who in turn was influenced by Rousseau) that put together a treatise that considers the societal change we have seen ever since from industrialism and circulation of capital. But Rousseau’s thoughts about the social contract (1968 [1762]), “child-centered” education (Rousseau 2010), and inequality (Graeber & Wengrow 2018; Rousseau 2008) are still relevant today. Especially when we are faced with many societal forces that are contradictory in nature, each of them pushing us into certain direction, demanding our attention, wanting us to change our beliefs about that one particular aspect that connects with other aspects and forms the Matrix of our reality.

We are once again facing a similar situation as the people did back in the days of the first industrial revolution. Now the industrial revolution has reached its fourth cycle, unimaginatively called ”Industry 4.0” (Marr 2018; WEF 2021), where machines are starting to become autonomous and talk to each other. I used to think technology was cool, and went to work for Google. But at Google I learned that technology is not cool, after all. Not until technology becomes completely open source, it will be used by massive conglomerates to build autonomous weapons systems (Cassella 2018; Johnson 2018) and the industry will keep paying ethics researchers to keep writing arguments for them (Charters 2020). Even though I could work for an industry that, given the current trajectory, will be among the biggest producers of CO 2 in the future Vidal 2017), the idea that I would work for an industry that sees weaponizing their products as the grandest idea of mankind’s future is still gnawing.

Because, it is all just business (Huesemann & Huesemann 2011):

One of the functions of critical science is to create awareness of the underlying values, and the political and financial interests which are currently determining the course of science and technology in industrialized society. This exposure of the value-laden character of science and technology is done with the goal of emancipating both people and the environment from domination and exploitation by powerful interests. The ultimate objective is to redirect science and technology to support both ordinary people and the environment, instead of causing suffering through oppression and exploitation by dominant elites. Furthermore, by exposing the myth of the value-neutrality of science and technology, critical science attempts to awaken working scientists and engineers to the social, political, and ethical implications of their work, making it impossible or, at the very least, uncomfortable for them to ignore the wider context and corresponding responsibilities of their professional activities.

It all seems to be connected with state imperialism and the military-industrial(-intelligence) complex. Lenin’s statement (2008 [1916]) equating capitalism with imperialism still prevails this day: ”imperialist wars are absolutely inevitable under such an economic system, as long as private property in the means of production exists”. The conditions change, but the war machine keeps on churning (soon with autonomous weapons!), with wealthy but crooky investors financing projects that are even more dystopian (Byrne 2013). We may remember what president Dwight D. Eisenhower said about the military- industrial complex (NPR 2011):

”In the councils of government, we must guard against the acquisition of unwarranted influence, whether sought or unsought, by the military-industrial complex. The potential for the disastrous rise of misplaced power exists, and will persist.”

It is exactly these kinds of doomsday scenarios that inspire people like Theodore John ”The Unabomber” Kaczynski. Kaczynski, famous for sending mail bombs to various university professors around the US, holds a doctoral degree in mathematics. (Wikipedia 2021.) Kaczynski was bullied as a child, and it has been suggested that he was part of an MKULTRA experiment in college (The Week 2017). Kaczynski did not send his bombs haphazardly. He wrote long theoretical pieces to justify his actions, most of them being thematically anarcho-primitivist. In 1995, after sending several bombs to university personnel and business executives in 1978-1995, he said to ”desist from terrorism” if he got his text published in media outlets.

In his Industrial Society and Its Future (Kaczynski 1995), a 35 thousand word essay published in The Washington Post, which the FBI gave the name ”Unabomber manifesto”, Kaczynski attributes many our societal ills to ”leftism”. In the manifesto Kaczynski details how two psychological tendencies, “feelings of inferiority” and “oversocialization”, form the basis of ”the psychology of modern leftism”. Feelings of inferiority are taken to mean the whole spectrum of negative feelings about self: low self-esteem, feelings of powerlessness, guilt, self-hatred etc. Oversocialization is the process of socialization taken to extreme levels:

24. Psychologists use the term “socialization” to designate the process by which children are trained to think and act as society demands. A person is said to be well socialized if he believes in and obeys the moral code of his society and fits in well as a functioning part of that society. It may seem senseless to say that many leftists are over-socialized, since the leftist is perceived as a rebel. Nevertheless, the position can be defended. Many leftists are not such rebels as they seem.

25. The moral code of our society is so demanding that no one can think, feel and act in a completely moral way. For example, we are not supposed to hate anyone, yet almost everyone hates somebody at some time or other, whether he admits it to himself or not. Some people are so highly socialized that the attempt to think, feel and act morally imposes a severe burden on them. In order to avoid feelings of guilt, they continually have to deceive themselves about their own motives and find moral explanations for feelings and actions that in reality have a nonmoral origin. We use the term “oversocialized” to describe such people.

Kaczynski goes on to describe how this oversocialization causes a person to feel guilt and shame for their actions, especially in the context of performing as society expects them to perform. He writes how this concept of oversocialization is used to determine ”the direction of modern leftism”. Further on, Kaczynski describes how modern man needs goals to strive for, to not run the risk of developing serious psychological problems. This goalsetting activity he denotes ”power process”. But these goals can be real or artificial. Setting a goal is “surrogate activity” if the person devotes much time and energy to attaining it, does not attain it, and still feels seriously deprived. It is just a goal for goalsetting’s sake, the unfulfilled other side of the coin of power process. Kaczynski then connects these concepts to the many societal ills (excessive density of population, isolation of man from nature, excessive rapidity of social change and the breakdown of natural small-scale communities such as the extended family, the village or the tribe) by describing how modern society, with all its marketing and advertising creating artificial needs, disrupts the power process, mankind’s search for itself and meaning-making in life. He sees social hierarchies and the need to climb up them, the ”keeping up with the Joneses”, as surrogate activity.

”Because of the constant pressure that the system exerts to modify human behavior, there is a gradual increase in the number of people who cannot or will not adjust to society’s requirements: welfare leeches, youth gang members, cultists, anti-government rebels, radical environmentalist saboteurs, dropouts and resisters of various kinds”. This gradual increase, then, the system tries to ’solve’ by using propaganda, ”to make people WANT the decisions that have been made for them”. In regards to technology, the ”bad” parts cannot be separated from the ”good”, and thus we are constantly facing the dilemma between technology and freedom, new technology being introduced all the time, and new regulations being introduced to curb the negative effects of the technology and at the same time stripping us of our freedoms. Kaczynski concludes, that revolution is easier than reforming the system.

Later, Kaczynski released another of his anti-technological theses. In Anti-Tech Revolution: Why and How (2015) Kaczynski presents a ”comprehensive historical analysis explaining the futility of social control and the catastrophic influence of technological growth on human social and planetary ecological systems.” This time Kaczynski talks more about how to start an anti-tech movement and how to keep it going. The text reads like a mathemathical proof of sorts, it presents ”rules”, ”propositions” and ”postulates” why the technological system will destroy itself (eg. Russell’s Paradox resulting in chaos in a highly complex, tightly coupled system) and why a successful anti-tech movement needs clear goals to avoid some of the errors revolutionary movements have made, which are elaborated in the book. Violence is not offered as a solution in the book, it is seen more like a mishap of sorts, a suboptimal outcome of a revolutionary movement. But it talks about power. Kaczynski got to learn the hard way how the feeling of powerlessness breeds desperate actions that would have been otherwise unnecessary. The book also talks about climate change and related issues, from a mathematic systems theoretical point of view.

Institutions that are in the business of social engineering and behavioral modification, such as the Tavistock Institute in the UK or the CIA in the US, would have us believe that Kaczynski’s actions were ”defences against anxiety” that can be seen as ”withdrawal, informal organization, reactive individualism and scapegoating” (Hills et al. 2020), and to some extent this is true. But Kaczynski interprets the actions of these institutions stemming from technological progress in our society Kaczynski 1995):

117. In any technologically advanced society the individual’s fate MUST depend on decisions that he personally cannot influence to any great extent. A technological society cannot be broken down into small, autonomous communities, because production depends on the cooperation of very large numbers of people and machines. Such a society MUST be highly organized and decisions HAVE TO be made that affect very large numbers of people.

This uniformity of a large hierarchical modern society then forces its will on people (Kaczynski 1995):

119. The system does not and cannot exist to satisfy human needs. Instead, it is human behavior that has to be modified to fit the needs of the system. This has nothing to do with the political or social ideology that may pretend to guide the technological system. It is not the fault of capitalism and it is not the fault of socialism. It is the fault of technology, because the system is guided not by ideology but by technical necessity.

We have once again encountered ananke, necessity. Now, if we consider ourselves as the lonely decision makers in this society, what could we do? We can try and fight fire with fire, but such fights end up producing only pain and casualties (Taylor 2013). Anarcho-naturists and anarcho-pacifists understand that (unnecessary) fighting in most cases does not work. Sometimes fighting is warranted, but it is beyond the scope of this essay to examine those cases. Sending bombs to people’s offices may get you some attention and even make somebody quote your manifesto in an essay, but it is not solving the issue, something which the Unabomber addressed in his later texts. If working a job indirectly supports the military-industrial complex NewScientist 2011), what good does it do? The military-industrial complex is the biggest source of pollution in the world (The Conversation 2019; Acedo 2015), detaching yourself from this complex is imperative. Even if they would manage to convince us with their psyops that they are willing to change and that climate change is an important issue (Ahmed 2014), it would still be the biggest polluter that is controlling the conversation. It has even been suggested that they are behind this climate buzz (Light 2014). Is your job doing that much good in society that it outweighs the cons? If I need to act responsibly, but cannot fight the system nor conform, while at the same time keeping in mind our looming climate disaster, the only reasonable and peaceful response is to exit the system altogether.

Biodynamism’s naturality and parsimony

Owning responsibility and transforming the world implies taking some kind of action. We have already seen how feelings of powerlessness and lack of self-worth can lead to destructive actions. But there are an unlimited amount of actions that can be taken, that are not based in feelings of powerlessness but empowerment.

Exiting society might sound like a lonely project, and some people might rightfully feel lonely when all their peers still want to live in the illusion. But it does not have to be so. A lot of soul-searching needs to be done, and that is usually done in privacy, focusing upon oneself, but beyond that there are ways how to go off-grid and drastically reduce your carbon emissions.

One of the key concepts that will be our guiding principle here is degrowth (Paulson 2017), which ties into values such as organicity, naturality and parsimony. We will want to have less production of artificial things, and more organic and natural things. By artificial we mean long supply chains and many phases of production with modern high technology that produce a large amount of climate effects. By natural we mean using primitive technology, mostly all-natural or recycled materials and something that can be produced even alone, given enough time. Primitive technology does not exclude electricity, it just means producing it differently.

Rudolf Steiner, Austrian philosopher, social reformer, architect, and theosophist, the founder of Anthroposophy and a great reformer of science in matters of spirit, started the first intentional form of organic farming, known as biodynamic agriculture, after he had given a series of lectures on the topic in the last year of his life. (Paull 2011.) Steiner had many spiritual experiences during his life, which lead him to start the Anthroposophy movement. He wanted to apply the scientific process into spiritual realm, inquiring it as it would be as real as our material world. Inquiring this spiritual world helped him access knowledge he claims to not have been access otherwise (Steiner 2011 [1918]). Anthroposophist self-inquiry can be seen as Foucauldian ”technology of the self” that ”provide an intervention mechanism on the part of active subjects, injecting an element of contingency to everyday encounters and alleviating the determinist effect that technologies of power would have otherwise” (Skinner 2012).

Steiner’s thoughts about agriculture are still relevant (Paull 2011):

In 1924 Steiner commented that, “Nowadays people simply think that a certain amount of nitrogen is needed for plant growth, and they imagine it makes no difference how it’s prepared or where it comes from” Steiner, 1924b, pp.9-10). He made the point that, “In the course of this materialistic age of ours, we’ve lost the knowledge of what it takes to continue to care for the natural world” (Steiner, 1924b, p.10).

Our current system seems to think exactly in this way, that if we just compensate our wreaked havoc by investing in ’green’ technology (Elegant 2019), it will all be ok and rainbows in the sky. But it will not. No one is even double checking if the companies that say that they are now carbon neutral actually proactively try to make our world greener. They can just buy a renewable energy company and say now we are green and do nothing else. Some would argue that going ’carbon neutral’ like these massive corporations are doing it is not the way to do it: “’green’ infrastructures are creating conflict and ecological degradation and are the material expression of climate catastrophe” (Dunlap 2020).

Steinerian biodynamism ”encompasses practices of composting, mixed farming systems with use of animal manures, crop rotations, care for animal welfare, looking at the farm as an organism/entity and local distribution systems, all of which contribute toward the protection of the environment, safeguard biodiversity and improve livelihoods of farmers” (Turinek et al. 2009). While modern biodynamic studies focus on agroecological factors such as nutrient cycles, soil characteristics, and nutritional quality (Reganold 1995; Droogers & Bouma 1996), Steiner himself was quite metaphysical in his lectures and paid attention to details such as kingdoms of nature, planetary influences, biorhythms, incarnated and environmental ethers, and the Zodiac (Steiner 2004 [1958]; Nastati 2009).

By shifting to more natural ways of living, we may help Gaia (Lovelock 1991; Singh 2007) heal in many other ways than just reduce our climate emissions. By realizing that we are actually living on the skin of a fairly large and complex organism, we will stop treating it as a plain source of material resources, and start bonding with it, tune into its consciousness and establish two-way communication, just like the natives have done in America.

The way of the natives ought to be our current way, since there is no reason why the natives could not guard the lands they have before. One of the greatest fears of people speaking for private property rights is that managing resources collectively would mean exhausting them. There is no Tragedy of Commons. Just because you are materially poor does not mean that you are any less competent steward of land and wealth, as proposed by Elinor Oström (2009). Acting for climate is not an investment allocation problem. The natives need their land back so that they could do their best to fight the destruction of our ecosystem. The Outokumpu supply chain in Brazilian rainforests, Elon Musk and Bolivian lithium mines, Papua New Guinea indigenous conflict, mining in Lapland in traditional Sami herding areas, Australian uranium mining in indigenous lands… these are all pointless conflicts.

There are also many other ways of staying grounded and in touch with nature, while at the same time cultivating sovereignty. Many of these things revolve around feeding the most immediate community next to you. They reflect ideas such as mutuality, solidarity, organicity, and naturality. Permaculture is a term coined by David Holmgren to describe ”an approach to land management and philosophy that adopts arrangements observed in flourishing natural ecosystems. It includes a set of design principles derived using whole systems thinking. It uses these principles in fields such as regenerative agriculture, rewilding, and community resilience” (Wikipedia: Permaculture 2021). Permaculture has many branches including ecological design, ecological engineering, regenerative design, environmental design, and construction. It also includes integrated water resources management that develops sustainable architecture, and regenerative and self-maintained habitat and agricultural systems modeled from natural ecosystems (Holmgren Desing Services 2007).

Earthships are 100% sustainable homes that are both energy efficient and modern. Earthsips are built with natural and repurposed (recycled) materials, they heat and cool themselves without electric heat, they use solar energy to power electric appliances, they collect all of their water from rain and snowmelt, they re-use their sewage water to fertilize plants, and there’s an indoor garden that grows food in vertical growing spaces (Reynolds 2021). Ecovillages are a ”human-scale, full-featured settlement, in which human activities are harmlessly integrated into the natural world in a way that is supportive of healthy human development and can be successfully continued into the indefinite future” (Gilman & Gilman 1991).

Clifford Harper had a set of drawings imagining an alternative in his book Radical Technology (Harper & Boyle 1976). In them, he shows many of the ideas that were themes in the German garden city movement in the beginning of 20th century (Bollerey & Hartmann 1980), such as collectivised gardens, autonomous housing estates, and community workshops. The book introduces us ’radical technology’, which spans basically all of the concepts we have discussed up to this point: organic agriculture, biodynamic agriculture, vegetarianism, hydroponics, soft energy, insulation, low-cost housing, tree houses, shanty houses, ’folk-built’ houses using traditional methods, houses built from subsoil, self-built houses, housing associations, solar dwellings, domestic paper-making, carpentry, scrap reclamation, printing, community & pirate radio, collectivised gardens, collective workshops for clothesmaking, shoe repair, pottery, household decoration and repairs, autonomous housing estates, autonomous rural villages, etc.

These concepts, while they seem simple, are still empowering, they are meant to let people enjoy they fruits of their labour. Last but certainly not least is the concept that all of these things fall under, alternative (or, appropriate) technology. Alternative technologies are those ”which offer genuine alternatives to the large-scale, complex, centralized, high-energy life forms which dominate the modern age” (Winner 1979). Alternative technologies seek to solve the problems technocentric thinking has caused in society: technical scale and economic concentration, level of complexity or simplicity best suited to technical operations of various kinds, division of labor and its alleged necessity, social and technical hierarchy as it relates to the design of technological systems, and self-sufficiency and interdependence regarding the lives of individuals and communities. Many of these solutions have been developed in Africa, where problems have had to be solved, but resources have been scarce in actuality.

Appropriate technology holds great promise in ways that are currently underappreciated in our society (Huesemann & Huesemann 2011):

As has been mentioned repeatedly throughout this book, the primary goal of technology in our current economic system is to increase material affluence and to generate profits for the wealthy by controlling and exploiting both people and the environment. In view of the reality of interconnectedness, this is neither environmentally sustainable nor socially desirable. In this chapter we discuss how to design technologies which reflect the values of environmental sustainability and social appropriateness. We also emphasize the importance of heeding the precautionary principle in order to prevent unintended consequences, as well as the need for participatory design in order to ensure greater democratic control of technology. Finally, as a specific example of an environmentally sustainable and socially appropriate technology, we discuss the positive contribution of local, organic, small-scale agriculture.

Conclusion

This essay has presented the reader with ramblings of a person who is familiar with Critical Theory, who would like to build a stronger connection to nature, and who is having a major identity crisis in life. I have expressed, albeit feebly, my will to emancipate myself, to exit the Matrix. In Finnish they would say ”Sota ei yhtä miestä kaipaa”, and in George S. Patton’s words this expression would be ”Hell, they won’t miss me, just one man in thousands.”

In this essay I seem to have extensively quoted the Unabomber manifesto. This is not to say that Kaczynski had exceptionally good motives or justifications for his actions. He killed many people and is in prison now. Kaczynski’s ideas are not unique. Quoting his manifesto serves merely to prove one point: he is the product of his environment. Mental illness is no longer a taboo and things have progressed somewhat since Kaczynski’s days. It could be argued that Kaczynski’s writings were just projection of his own feelings of shame and guilt he had gone through. But his mental condition, should he be diagnosed with one (Amador & Reshmi 2000), does not invalidate the things he’s written. In many ways his writings are now more relevant than ever. When we have tech billionaires talking about inserting neuralinks into your brain and downloading thoughts straight from the headquarters, we can really see the manifesto dots connecting.

I wish it would have been just the mental load caused by a ’surrogate activity’ of keeping up with the Joneses that was the cause of all this, but no, it’s the real deal now. When we have corporate executives and federal commissions defending autonomous weapons systems and saying building such systems is a ’moral imperative’ (Gershgorn 2021), you know we have reached peak civilization. It’s all downhill from now on. All participation in society will support this moral imperative, and I don’t want to have anything to do with it. While many would get back to nature for reasons of convenience, such as better health, Rousseau himself would have gotten back to nature ”to feel God in nature” (LaFreniere 1990). It is this kind of humanist transcendentalism (not transhumanism) that we will need again, to realize what we have done to our planet, to realize what needs to be done to abolish the war machine consuming it, and to make ourselves whole again.

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black-dragon1998 · 4 years

Text

Kryptonian in the mcu(chapter 1)

What would happen if a Kryptonian would land in the MCU instead of the DC universe. Pairing: Natasha x fem Kryptonian, all the rest is canon kinda.

preview

MCU 2008

The ringing of a phone is what wakes you form your peaceful slumber. It causes you to cuddle closer to the warm body that is buried against your front.

“make it stop! Before I smash it.” Your voice is hoarse from sleep and makes the woman in your arms chuckle. She always found it sounded like home when she heard it.

“pleas refrain from doing that. You already broke two this year alone.” She teases, but you are too lazy to reply with your usual sassy answer. Natasha figured at mush and lets you grumble and turn around to bask in the light of the morning sun that seeps into the room. The image you present is that of a goddess, at least that is what she thinks.

She untangles herself from the sheets that had been kicked off during the night, your body heat more than enough to keep the both of you warm.

When she picked up the phone, she knew you would eavesdrop the conversation, with your super hearing it wasn’t that hard.

“Romanoff! Took you long enough.” Maria hill’ voice rings to the phone, clearly annoyed for having to wait.

“Hello to you too Maria.” Natasha replied drily. Maria decided to not pick up the usual banter and cut straight to the case.

“you and Danvers are requested at HQ. Fury wants to talk to the two of you immediately.” Maria ends the call before Natasha can react.

Natasha gets out of bed to get ready, but you stay put and bask in the morning sun. you didn’t want to go on another mission. You had just come back from one, it had left you drained.

It almost caused you to Solar flare, hens why you wanted to stay in the sun as long as possible.

“come on! We don’t want to be late.” Nat says shaking your shoulder, you don’t budge and only open one eye to look at her. Natasha catches this and smiles sweetly, a rare emotion for the master spy/Ex-assassin. It was only you who could invoke such emotions from her.

“if your quick enough we can get a cup of coffee on the way.” She knew just the thing to get you motivated.

A gust of wind blows in her face as you use your superspeed to get ready and back to her side, looking like an excited puppy. You grin at her, towering over her with a few inches.

“ready?” you step toward the door taking the keys. You hear her mumble something that sounds like a showoff, but don’t comment as her arm quickly winds around your waist. Plucking the keys out of your hands.

“I drive, I would like to get there in one piece.” You gave her your best pout, she only chuckles and kisses your cheek before walking out the door.

Quickly following you jump into the passenger seat.

“You want Natasha to do what!” you slammed your hands down on the table in front of you, denting it in the middle. The anger you felled almost made you lose control and fry the person sitting at the head of the conference table.

“I want Romanoff to shadow Stark as Stark’s new assistant. He has recently promoted Pepper Potts to CEO and head shareholder and is looking for a new assistant. This is the perfect opportunity to see if Stark is fitted to be an Avenger.” Fury stated plainly, like always no singe of emotion whatsoever. He was also far too used to seeing your rage outbursts, most of them were directed to him.

“you want her to shadow that arrogant, childish son of a bitch?” if he wasn’t the head of S.H.I.E.L.D. you would have roasted him with your heat vision long ago.

“yes.” Nat turns you around to calm you down before you do something you regret. Like always she was calm and collected.

“(Y/N) it’s okay. I can handle Stark.” She gives you a sincere smile and you couldn’t help but smile back. Taking a deep breath, you turn to Fury again.

“What are you expecting from me, if you are sending Natasha undercover?”

“We want you to be her back-up. Stark is known to attract attention and I doubt he is going to stop anytime soon.” You give him a pointed look, but nod.

“fine, I do it. But step in whenever I see it as necessary, even if this least to me revealing my powers.” Fury stares you down, but you don’t budge so he reluctantly agrees.

After the meeting Natasha steers you toward her office at S.H.I.E.L.D., to prepare for the mission and to calm you down. Once inside she turns to you and razes an eyebrow

“care to tell me what that was?” figures nothing would get passed the famous Black Widow. She knew this wasn’t about her getting hurt. She had done far more dangerous missions, with far less information. So, she knew it wasn’t that. You turn so you are facing her, cupping her face and admiring her beautiful face. Her flawless skin, her beautiful long red hair.

“you know my species is territorial in nature and bonds for life. You know I would kill anybody who would even think of taking you away from me.” She nods, knowing this from when you first confessed your love to her. She presses further into your palm, giving it a small kiss.

“I remember. Nothing has changed I still love you, and only you.” You smile at her response. Both of you show each other enough how much you love the other but saying it is rare.

“I know you know, but just the thought of you having to seduce and extract intel form that arrogant man has my blood boiling.” You confess your insecurity. Instead of laughing like you expected her to do, she came closer and reached up to kiss you.

“you know I will do whatever it takes to complete a mission, but I will always come back to you.”

“I know that too. I just get jalouse sometimes.” She chuckles and gives you another kiss. It’s this kind of gestures that you feel at home.

Until you met Natasha home was a lost memory of flames and dead. The loses of your family haunted you every moment of the day. When you were with Natasha it was almost like you were back on Krypton and you be damned if you let that go. You don’t think you would be able to survive that.

At this very moment, you were not impressed with Tony Stark. You were watching his boxing with his driver. Like he had to pay people to be around him. From your viewpoint, floating in mid-air you could see the whole mansion. Using your X-Ray vision to see every nook and carnie.

You did not see what Fury saw in him, he was as shallow as the tabloids made him out to be. The security in and around his house was also crap. No armed guards, no security cameras. I guess his personal A.I. would alert him if anything was off, but still, you were sure you could bust inside before anybody would be able to stop you.

A car stopped in front of the mansion and out stepped Pepper Pots and Natasha following the other woman. Natasha was going to make the first contact by presenting as a candidate for being Starks personal assistant

She got this if anybody were able to convince Stark they were the best it was Natasha. Thoughts consumed you when she walks in. actually, Stark’s attention was also on Natasha the moment she walked in.

You couldn’t help but laugh when he asked her to step into the boxing ring. He was a goner the moment they had prolonged eye contact. You knew the look all too well, she used it on you numerous times, mostly when she needed something from you.

Stark left her alone in the ring with his driver wanting her to have a little box match with Happy. He sat down next to Pepper, who looked unamused. She even warned him that Nat could a very expensive sexual harassment lawsuit.

He would be dead before he could even try. You would make sure of it. On the other side, it did confirm that he wanted Nat as his assistant. While Stark and Pepper were having their discussion Natasha floored Happy with famous Black Widow move and as nothing happened she makes Stark sign some paperwork. Reeling him in again with lingering eye contact. And like every man before him, he took the bait.

Natasha meets you back at your shared apartment. Her heels were off before she was even at the living room and launched herself on you, who was sitting on the couch.

“That was exhausting,” she grumbles into your neck. On instinct, you wrap your arms around her.

“I could tell. I like the skirt though.” Nat smirked down at you. She razed herself so she was sitting on your lap looking down at you while intertwining her fingers behind your neck.

“were you ogling me?” Nat teased.

“you know I can’t resist you. You are the most beautiful woman on the planet to me.” Her eyes soften before she kisses you. You deepen the kiss while pulling her closer. Your hand sneak under her dress shirt.

“you look like something sweet to eat in that skirt. I think your little seduction act didn’t only work with Stark.” You whisper in her ear trailing kisses down her neck, goosebumps following your trail.

You quickly aren’t able to talk anymore because Natasha crashed her lips on yours and pulling on your shirt to get it off. Without breaking the kiss you pick her up and walk toward the bedroom.

There were too many people packed in this joint. Why did Stark have to come to Monaco for a freaking racecar, also to many people were excited about this thing. Justin hammer was also trying to impress a journalist, the poor women did look quite bored. He was giving you a headache and you wanted to punch him.

“Why are we here again?” Natasha almost giggled at your whiny voice. You hate being in crowded paces. It tended to overload your already keen senses.

“Because Stark is sponsoring one of the race teams. It is also Pepper’s first event as CEO.” She tells you without acknowledging you. Being undercover kind of prevents you from standing next to her and having a normal conversation.

Before you could start whining again you saw Pepper and Tony walk in followed with the flashed of the press. Their flashes were so bright it was giving you an even worse headache than Hammer did.

Natasha immediately walks toward them and leads them toward their table. Following the conversation with your hearing. He even had the nerve to demand another table.

While Nat made this happen Tony and Pepper went to the bar. Stopping right next to you. Being stuck next to Hammer meant having to witness the uncomfortable conversation. When the press starts to follow you discreetly start to make your way elsewhere. Ended up in the crowed between Nat and Stark. A feeling came over you that something was going to go wrong in the near future.

Your feeling was confirmed when Stark Jumps into his racecar, making his driver quite. For the first lap, everything goes good when suddenly a man steps on the tracks. He starts cutting cars into two out of nowhere with. He is cutting them with something that looks like whips powered by a power reactor.

Well, there goes Stark’s statement that nobody but him can build them.

Not hesitating to help, you use your super speed to get onto the tracks. Immediately starting helping people of the track. Lifting a couple of cars to help trapped drivers. Luckily all eyes are on Stark and the current bad guy, big surprise. Staying in the shadows after helping the last driver of the track you see a car come crash down on the bad guy. Ramming him into the side of the track.

“though motherfucker.” You think to yourself when after several hit he just walks it off. After allot of screaming Stark finally got into his suit. Than Nat started telling you to back down into your earpiece. Saying it wasn’t worth it.

“oh come on sweetheart. Where is the fun in that.” You reply smirking, but you did what she asked off you. Angering Natasha was not something you liked to do on a regular basis.

You almost jump back into action when saw Stark being strangled with one of the reactor whips. Chocked wasn’t a good look on him. But you didn’t need to intervene, because he quickly blows up the power soars. Rendering the whips useless.

The police arrive and you take that as your cue to blend in with the crowd as they put the guy in cuffs. Crisis averted I guess, and you didn’t even have to go all Kryptonian on them.

You do keep trailing Stark, just to make sure nothing ells attacks him. Imagine your surprise when you see him walk into the police station to talk to the guy who just tried to kill him and is twice Tony’s size.

You can’t follow the whole conversation because you are unable to follow them inside the building and because of the incident the who place in on high alert. What you can make out of the conversation is that the bad guy’s father used to work with Howard Stark and that Howard somehow wronged Vanko. He also knows about Tony’s palladium poisoning. For a man without a name, he sure knows a lot.

The media storm that comes down on Iron man is massive. After his statement that nobody was able to make tech as advanced as his, the media is having a field day with this. Luckily for you, nobody seemed to recall a woman lifting cars or pulling people out of fires.

Nat is swooped up in the madness, trying to contain the story as Stark’s personal assistant. You yourself are stuck watching it all go down while keeping an eye on Tony.

While Pepper is trying to safe the company from more bad press, he is searching for everything that as much relates to Anton Vanko. You try to follow his madness but with your X-ray vision, its hard to see the 3D projections but you manage.

For now, all you can do is wait, it’s like drama show unfolding before your eyes. It is kind of amusing.

part 2

#marvel mcu #Black Widow #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #Kryptonian reader #Kryptonian #Krypton is still gone #Iron Man 2 #Iron Man #tony stark #pepper potts #nick fury #maria hill

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cdelphiki · 5 years

Text

Tim didn’t like the think about that night.

It was painful enough just having happened.

When he landed on the roof, his jaw aching and his lip bleeding, he had looked up and looked around and realized something.

He was absolutely alone.

In his own family. He was alone.

But, no. It was worse than alone.

Alone was back when he was living with Jack and Janet. Alone was puttering around a mansion, shifting between boarding schools and nannies and a housekeeper who checked in on him during the day and left him to his own devices at night.

Yeah, being alone sucked, but Tim knew how to be alone. He thrived there. He’d been alone his entire life.

This was worse than alone. This was…. unappreciated. This was mistreated. This was disliked. This was despised.

And Tim didn’t need this shit.

If Bruce didn’t appreciate his love and devotion, then fine. Tim was done offering it. He put himself out there again and again, sacrificed himself for his family over and over, gave everything he had just to be pushed aside every single time.

Every. Single. Time.

Tim was tired of always being the one pushed aside. Everyone was more important than him in this family. Damian was younger and cuter. Jason was bigger and stronger. Dick was older and wiser. Tim was… he was just there. He was a placeholder. Someone to sacrifice when needed.

Toss aside.

Ignore.

And now. Now, he was a punching bag, apparently.

Because when he looked around, no one said anything. He saw a couple shocked faces, sure, but no one said a damn thing.

It was just another night. Bruce was hurting. Bruce was broken. Everyone needed to move on and not press his buttons anymore. Be nice to Bruce and comfort Bruce.

What about Tim?

Bruce didn’t even look sorry.

That’s probably what set Tim off, most.

Internally, of course, because externally all he did was wipe the blood off his face and stand, a little shakily.

All this time. All these years. Everything. Tim had given Bruce everything. Even his name. He’d changed his name to Tim Wayne and given his all to help Bruce in his mission to save Gotham.

But did any of it matter?

No.

Because Tim didn’t matter. All that mattered was Bruce and his hurts.

And Tim didn’t need this shit.

He didn’t have to take it, either. He wasn’t that little boy, all alone in a mansion, craving the attention of anyone who gave him the time of day.

Tim was an adult now. Well… in the eyes of the law at least. Emancipated was an adult, even if he was still only 16.

But he was an adult, and he had friends.

Friends he knew loved him and cared about him. He didn’t need Bruce or anyone else in this stupid ‘family.’ He’d be just fine without them.

When no one said anything for a solid minute after he stood, Tim decided he was done. He rolled his shoulders, took out his grapple, and made his way back to his apartment with a quickly swelling eye.

The entire right side of his face felt both numb and on fire. It wasn’t a foreign feeling to him, but knowing Bruce had done it. On purpose. Out of anger. Just made it….

Tim didn’t want to think about it.

He was so tired of it all. So tired of giving so much of himself to just be hurt over and over.

But he didn’t have to keep going this way. And when he arrived back at his apartment and changed out of uniform, he debated whether he’d ever work with the family again. Work under Batman.

And looking at his puffy face in the mirror, he asked why he’d ever started in the first place.

Because was it honestly worth it?

- - -

The first thing Tim did was change his name.

He’d always kind of hated himself, anyway, for changing it to Tim Wayne, back when Bruce adopted him. It had been the reason for one of his breakdowns, after all. Tim Wayne.

No one had cared about that break of his, either, now had they?

Honestly, he just felt like an idiot for being strung along so long. But who was he kidding? No one had ever asked for Tim to be around. He just planted himself in the family. Pushed his way in and insisted he be included in everything.

Like a fungus.

It was no wonder he got back nothing but hurt.

But that didn’t matter. He had his friends. They made him happy. They loved him and wanted him around. Why would he need anyone else?

His lawyer had looked more than mildly alarmed, though, when Tim met with him the following Monday.

The swelling in his face had disappeared by then, but the bruise had fully blossomed and looked rather painful. Deep purple right at the jawline, right where Bruce’s knuckle had hit, softening out to lighter purple and greens, the further away from the center one looked.

It was clearly a fist print, too.

And it took up a good fourth of his face.

“Mr. Drake,” his lawyer, Esteban, had said, “if- if Mr. Wayne…”

“It doesn’t matter,” Tim said. He had purposely not covered the bruise in anticipation of the meeting. He knew what image it would broadcast. And he didn’t care. It would help his case, make his lawyer more sympathetic, mean there was no argument over the decision. Removing ‘Wayne’ from their name in Gotham, after all, was not something anyone had ever done.

Wayne was a powerful name. Even more powerful when Bruce Wayne himself had given it.

But Tim was done with Bruce Wayne. He was ready to just be Tim Drake.

Tim Drake. Robin. A member of Young Justice.

Maybe he should think about his superhero name, now. Disconnect himself completely from Batman.

He had certainly already disconnected himself from all of Bruce’s assets. It was probably only a matter of time before Bruce himself cut Tim off, so he’d just taken the initiative.

It’s not like he couldn’t support himself on his own. Yeah, Drake Industries had gone bankrupt when Jack was still alive, but Tim had been working on it. And, ever since he became the primary shareholder of Wayne Enterprises, he’d been squirreling away as much as he could without arousing suspicion.

He had more than enough to live for the next twenty years without changing his spending habits. If he put himself on a budget, though? He could live indefinitely. There was no need to be attached to Bruce’s accounts.

Besides, he took some pleasure in cutting every one of Bruce’s credit cards in half and placing them all in an envelope to mail to Bruce. Just so he could be sure, himself, that Tim was done with him.

“We can press charges,” Esteban said, after taking a breath and putting his best ‘lawyer face’ on, “if that is why, we should press charges. He still has another kid at home.”

“You’ve signed a NDA,” Tim reminded him, “just get my name changed.”

“Which doesn’t apply to child abuse,” Esteban said, “Which you knew.”

Tim did know that. He also didn’t care if his lawyer reported it. Damian didn’t need to be living with Bruce, anyway. And Bruce deserved whatever scrutiny such a report would bring down on him. Tim almost didn’t even care if it exposed Batman.

That ‘almost’ was the only thing keeping him from reporting it himself, to get Damian out of there.

“Yeah, well, I’m not a child. And Bruce didn’t do this. So relax.”

Damian could take care of himself, Tim was sure. He lived with the Teen Titans half the time, anyway. Plus the Kents adored him. They’d watch out for him.

Besides, it’s not like Bruce didn’t want Damian around, right? He loved Damian. So Damian had nothing to worry about.

Except…

He hadn’t really chosen Damian. The boy had kind of just… appeared. And stuck himself to Bruce. Demanded to be made heir and everything else.

So there was a chance he would end up in the same boat…

Maybe he should report it…

But if Tim told Kon, he was fairly certain Kon would tell Clark, who would deal with Bruce himself. Clark was Bruce’s best friend, but he knew Clark would protect Damian from Bruce if he felt it necessary. There was no way he’d stand for Bruce hitting any of his allies. Especially not one he claimed as a ‘son,’ no matter how superficial the paperwork was.

Yeah. That was the perfect plan.

That’s what he’d do.

“Then who did it, Tim?”Esteban asked, gently, as if he were going to get Tim to open up and talk by simply being kind.

Smiling his ‘Tim Wayne’ smile, Tim just said, “Timothy Jackson Drake is what I want my legal name to be.”

As soon as he was done cutting himself off completely, he’d call Kon and talk to him. Then he’d start his new life, working with Young Justice and maybe finding a profession.

The more he thought about it, the more excited he got about his life on his own.

It would be nice to live for himself for once.

- - -

Weeks passed.

No one seemed to understand why Tim left.

Even though he told himself no one wanted him around in the first place, he’d still been expecting… something. Someone to react to him leaving. To miss him for him. Not for what he was ‘doing to Bruce.’

But Bruce acted like nothing happened. When the media went crazy over the revelation that Tim severed ties, sold his shares back to Bruce, and changed his name, Bruce refused to comment. And still hadn’t said anything about it.

That didn’t stop the various members of the batfamily from trying to convince him to stop ‘hurting the family’ and ‘making everything worse’ by ‘blowing everything out of proportion.’

Honestly, Tim was tired of them all.

‘That’s just how Bruce is,’ Babs had said.

‘He was upset,’ Helena explained.

‘Dude lost everything,’ Duke reasoned.

‘Master Tim, you must understand-’ Alfred had started, but Tim hung up on him.

Tim didn’t bother to ask Damian his opinion.

No one understood, and Tim was done trying to explain it to them.

If he could go the rest of his life without thinking about it or Bruce again, he’d live a happy life.

He didn’t need any of them, anyway.

Jason, though?

Well. Tim had not been planning on Jason. He was fine alone. Because, again, he had his friends.

But someone told Jason.

Tim wasn’t sure who, but someone did. It was obvious, by the mere fact that Jason Todd was in his apartment, in the dark, waiting for Tim to get home.

It had been almost a month.

And while he and Jason might not have had a bad relationship, they hadn’t been much more than friendly acquaintances. Ever. At best.

Hostile enemies at worst.

“Welcome to the club, kid,” Jason said, not even looking up when Tim cut the light on to reveal Jason sitting sideways in the armchair, one leg slung up over the side, as he read something on his kindle. One of the ones that lit up.

Tim didn’t really like kindles. He wasn’t a huge fan of reading, in general, but he definitely didn’t like kindles. Tim would have never guessed that Jason, being a book nerd, used a kindle. He kind of seemed like the kind of dork who would prefer to smell the books, or something, while reading.

“Go away,” Tim said flatly, as he dropped his bag down on the ground and went to fix himself something to eat. He’d been away on a mission with his team for the last week. All he wanted to do was eat a bowl of something. Soup, probably. Lie on the couch and eat it while he watched something light and funny, then fall asleep. Possibly right there on the couch.

Talking to Jason was not any of those things.

“Heard you cut ties to Bat completely,” Jason said, “Gotta say. I’m impressed.”

Tim rolled his eyes as he looked through the various cans of soup he had in the cupboard, before he picked a hardy chicken and rice thing. “Don’t care. Go away.”

“Bat’s pissed, of course,” Jason said, as if Tim hadn’t said anything, “it’s kind of great.”

He watched his bowl spin in the microwave, while trying to blow Jason up with sheer willpower. Maybe if he thought hard enough, he’d discover latent super power abilities and make Jason disappear.

It could happen.

“But what I don’t get is: What did you do?”

“What did I do?” Tim echoed, spinning to stare at Jason, “What the fuck do you mean, what did I do?”

“To piss him off.”

“Does it matter?”

It’s not like it took much to piss Bruce off enough to be on the receiving end of a blow. The more Tim thought about it, the more surprised he was it’d taken as long as it did. Bruce had hit both Jason and Dick many times while angry. And Bruce actually chose both of them. Right from the beginning.

“Well, sure. You always seemed like a goody-goody to me. Daddy’s perfect little solider. What could you possibly do to-”

“I didn’t do anything,” Tim shouted, “Just like you didn’t do anything, and Dick didn’t do anything to deserve it. No one-”

“Let’s be fair here, Timbo. I tried to kill a dude.”

“So?” Tim asked, shaking his head, “Why does that make it okay for Bruce, your literal Dad, to attack you?”

Jason opened his mouth, but then just blinked at Tim.

He’d never really- They didn’t use that word. Tim wasn’t sure why he used that word.

But, that’s what he was, wasn’t it? Even if he only adopted them out of convenience. Or obligation. That’s what he was.

Bruce was the one who was there for parental guidance, right? He’d signed Tim’s report cards and everything. Gone to his school performances. Attended parent-teacher conferences. Taken him out for pizza and ice cream and to the movies.

There had been good times. Several years of good times. Tim had felt… wanted. And loved. For years. Bruce even said he loved him. Loved them all.

And yet, here they were.

Dealing with the repercussions of living in a lie.

“He- He-” Tim said, absolutely flabbergasted by Jason’s apparent… acceptance? Of all this? Out of all the people in the world, Tim thought Jason would understand.

Abuse was abuse. It was wrong. Regardless of what the victim did. Or who they were.

“I didn’t do anything,” he said, as his hand started to shake. He stepped forward and gripped onto one of the bar stools at his island, and kept going, “And that’s what no one seems to get.”

And Bruce had… Bruce had abused him.

That’s what this was. It wasn’t just an attack. It wasn’t just….and… he’d done it to Jason before him. And Dick before that.

It didn’t matter how he came into Bruce’s life. What he’d ever done. Bruce had adopted him. Bruce had adopted them all.

“Parents are supposed to- Dads are supposed to- supposed to love their kids,” Tim said, his voice quieting with each word, as his focus slipped from Jason, to off in the distance.

Bruce was their dad. And he was abusive.

“Tim.”

“I was just telling him I cared,” Tim snapped, angry Jason was making him feel things when all he wanted was some soup and an episode of The Simpsons. Or, maybe something like Futurama would be better. “And he just- he just…”

“Tim.”

Bruce had attacked him.

For trying to say he cared about him.

All Tim had done was love his dad, and that was how Bruce reciprocated.

“I didn’t do anything,” Tim whispered, letting go of the bar stool to wipe at his eyes.

Jason slowly got up and came to the counter, then sat down on the other side of the island. He placed his hands on the counter, then splayed out his fingers while he stared at them.

Tim never had a good example of a parent. His parents had loved him, he was sure, but they weren’t very good parents. He realized that, now. They cared more about their careers than they did about Tim. So when Bruce came around and actually talked to him. Spent time with him. Smiled at him, as if just his presence was enough to make Bruce happy, Tim had been absolutely overjoyed. Enamored with his new dad.

But Bruce had never been a good parent, either. Had he?

Nothing like Jack and Janet, but still unfit in his own ways.

Abusive in his own ways.

Eventually, long after the microwave had beeped, and Tim had ignored it in favor of staring at Jason’s hands, too, while he tried to keep his vision from blurring any further, Jason said, “Sorry, kid.”

“It was wrong,” Tim said numbly, and Jason just nodded, “it was wrong when he did it to you, too.”

At that, Jason scrubbed at his own eye, just briefly, before he seemed to realize he was doing it and put his hand back down on the counter. “It’s whatever,” he said, so nonchalantly that Tim realized Jason was a much better actor than he’d ever realized.

“He’s our dad,” Tim whispered.

“Yeah.”

Tim didn’t know much about good parents, but he did know one thing. “That’s not how Dads are supposed to be.”

765 notes · View notes

junquisite · 4 years

Text

Fated to love 1

PAIRING : Park Junhee X OC X Kim Wooseok

GENRE : Fluff, Angst

WORD COUNT : 2.5k

PARTS : I+P 1 2

AUTHOR’S NOTE : The italics signify the past memories from he trip and they are NOT a dream. they did happen. for timeline differentiation i have used toe Italics. So unless specified, italics are memories and the plain text is the present time.

“Hello, front desk? Yes, can you send a first aid box to room number 411?” she said as she placed the phone down and went to hold Junhee’s face again.

“Do hotels have that?” he asked as she fussed around him.

“Why won’t they?” she mumbled as she took a towel and went to the bathroom, coming back out with a wet towel and bent in front of him as she softly wiped the blood off his busted lip and bruised cheekbone.

“Who told you to go and punch that guy..” she mumbled as he winced.

“But you have to accept I looked cool.” he said and she rolled her eyes at him.

“Yeah until he punched you back.” she said as they heard someone ringing the bell of the hotel room.

She took the first aid box and thanked the person as she came back. She wiped his bruises with the antiseptic and pulled back to examine his face. “You’re lucky, I don’t think it’ll bruise.”

“Oh good. I can’t have a taint on this handsome face of mine.” and a laugh bubbled up her throat.

“Are you still drunk?” she asked as he smiled at her.

“Don’t go around punching people if you care so much about your handsome face.” she said as she gave him a pain killer.

“So you accept I’m handsome?” he asked and she rolled her eyes at him, a smile sneaking past her lips as he smiled back at her.

“No punching anymore okay?” as he kept smiling at her.

“It was not my fault Bora. He was almost harassing you.” he said and she placed her hands on her waist, staring his sitting form down.

“2 comments are not harassing.”

“And i told him to shut up.” he said and she sighed.

“Lemme just apply the ointment.” she said as she went back to the first aid kit when he pulled her by her hand.

“You know what would be better..” he trailed off as she raised an eyebrow at her.

“You can just kiss it better.” he said with a cheeky smile, pointing at the small bruise at his cheekbone. He knew she wouldn’t do that, but he was in for a surprise when she bent and quickly pecked that little bruise.

“Better now?” she asked him, her face inches away from his.

“It hurts here too.” he said as he pointed at his cheeks and saw as she smirked at him before bending down to give him a peck there too.

“Here too.” as he pointed at the corner of her lips, expecting her to back out any moment. But she went for it and left a peck on the corner of his lips, lingering for a few seconds longer.

When she was about to pull back, he held her close with his hand wrapping around her waist. With his other hand he pointed at his lips, “it hurts here too.”

He saw as her eyes flickered between his eyes and his lips, saw as a slight uncertainty clouded her eyes which vanished as soon as it came - leaving behind the crinkles beside her eyes as she smiled and leaned in, softly pecking his lips once, twice, thrice.

When she pulled back did Junhee realise he didn’t want her to - so he pulled her down in his lap, the other hand rushing to clear the bed from all that first aid things as his lips captured hers. A few seconds later she pulled back to breath only to be pushed down on the bed with him on top of her, hiding his face in her neck as he trailed soft kisses down to her collarbone.

She woke up with a start as her phone rang loudly, hands flapping blindly as she sat up on her bed, eyes still closed with the phone attached to her ear - it was a special ringtone set for a special person - her father.

“Hello?” she answered, voice betraying how much she wanted to stay between her blankets.

“Miss. Kang, it’s Mr. Park.” her father’s secretary.

“Yes Mr. Park?”

“Sir would like to have breakfast with you today. I’ll see you in an hour?” he asked and she looked at the clock.

“Alright, i’ll be there.”

She ended the call and rubbed her face.

“Why did I had to wake up with him on my mind first thing in the morning?” and groaned as she laid down in her bed again. She could afford a couple minutes to whine about it.

She sat in front of Wooseok as her father sat at the head’s seat.

“How did the party go yesterday?” he asked and she smiled.

“It went well. There are a lot of proposals and I have a few meetings these coming days to discuss them in detail.”

“I heard there was a footwear company which you’re meeting tonight for dinner?” he asked and she took a glance at Wooseok who had stopped eating his breakfast. So it was him who spilled huh.

“Yes. JD footwears. I had been wanting to work with them for a while now.”

“Cancel the meeting. You said you have a lot of proposals, go with another one.” his father said in a tone that was not to be questioned but it sparked something inside her.

“Why should i?” she asked as she placed her chopsticks down. She had lost her appetite.

“You know wooseok felt uncomfortable with them. You should be more considerate to him.” her father said and she glared at Wooseok sitting in front of her, calmly eating his breakfast.

“He apologised father. And it was all harmless conversations to make me comfortable with him. Wooseok was reading too much into that.” she said and saw how he didn’t even look up at her.

“I don’t care. Choose another partner.”

“Its my company father, you can’t impose your opinion on me.” she spat through gritted teeth.

“Have you forgotten that you could start this company only because of the money I gave you?” He asked loudly and she glared at him.

“You didn’t give me that, you loaned it to me. And I have returned every single penny of it with interest. You don’t see banks going around claiming power over businesses they have loaned amount to, do you?”

“I wont tolerate you speaking like that to me at my own house young lady.” his father yelled and with a screech she pushed back her chair and got up to go, ‘I’ll get going then.” she said and bowed.

“Don’t force me to threaten you with holding an emergency shareholders meeting.” he said and she stilled.

“You only have 8% shares.” she said as she looked at him.

“Why do you think Wooseok has 21% shares?’ his father said and she looked at Wooseok who was staring at her with a blank face now.

“Of Course. I forgot, my bad.” she whispered and saw a pleased smile came on her father’s face.

“So you’ll be cancelling the meeting?” he asked to rub it in her face.

She bowed to him and spoke, “No. I’ll be going forward with the collaboration so feel free to hold an emergency shareholders meeting. I’ll see you there.”

She was about to leave when she heard him mumble, “Wooseok was right, sending you on the trip was a mistake.”

There were a lot of things she wanted to say - both to her father and Wooseok but she figured it’ll be pointless, so she bowed and left.

She was about to get into her car when she heard someone calling her name - Wooseok.

“Why are you being like this?” he asked her and she turned to level him with an unimpressed face.

“Why are you marrying me?” she asked and she saw him getting confused by her question.

“Marry my father instead, he’s been a widow long enough - you’re young, smart and already follow his every command like a wife - marry him.” she said and she got in her car - not interested in whatever else he had to say to her.

“Donghun-ssi?” she asked as she recognised the long haired man and shook his hand as he extended his hand to her.

“Please call me Donghun, Bora-ssi.” he said and she asked him to call her comfortable too.

“Where’s your partner?” she asked and before Donghun could answer she heard someone calling Donghun’s name from behind her and the voice was strangely familiar.

“Hello i’m so sorry to be late, I’m Park Junhee, the Co-founder of JD Footwears.” she looked up to see the smile she has gotten extremely familiar with barely 2 weeks before and then had accepted she won’t be seeing him again.

She saw the recognition on his face as his eyes widened slowly but he masked it up as he took a seat in front of her, beside Donghun.

She took a sip of water.

It was going to be a fun dinner.

Surprisingly, the dinner went with no issues - they had managed to discuss quite a lot of details and both her and Junhee had managed to act like it was their first time meeting. They were almost done with dinner and discussing dessert when the seat beside her was pulled back and she looked up to see none other than her fiance - Kim Wooseok.

“What are you doing here?” she asked as he took the seat and smiled at the pair of men in front of her.

“I was here for a meeting. I was about to leave when i saw you and since i remember Donghun-ssi from the party, i thought i’ll join. I’m not interrupting, am i?” Wooseok asked Donghun who smiled at him, “of course not. This is my partner and co-founder, Park Junhee.”

Wooseok and Junhee shook hands when Junhee spoke, “I’m sorry i was not at the party but i am assuming that you all get acquainted, for you to join our table so comfortably.”

“Oh yes, your partner was flirting with my fiance here, at the party. So you can say we are acquainted.” Wooseok said and although his lips were smiling, his eyes weren’t - they were challenging Junhee and Bora was dying to leave the table.

“Donghun hyung? Flirting with Bora?” Junhee said and wooseok mumbled, “I See you’re all already comfortable with each other to drop honorifics.”

“Both of them are older than us Wooseok.” Bora said and Donghun waved his hand at him,” It’s fine, please be comfortable.”

Junhee leaned back in his chair, eyes set calculativily on Wooseok as he cleared his throat,”As I was saying, Donghun hyung cannot be flirting with Bora and I can guarantee that.”

“And why is that?” Wooseok asked, annoyance slightly slipping in his voice.

“Because he’s getting married in 2 months.”

An awkward silence surrounded the table as everyone processed what Junhee had said. Bora was the first to speak,”Oh Congratulations Donghun, I’m so happy for you! I told you you were reading too much into it Wooseok.” Bora said, the last line pointed at Wooseok.

“Oh. congratulations.” Wooseok said and Bora saw a smirk trying to break into Junhee’s face. She was happy it wasn’t very apparent though - Wooseok hated losing.

“Haha thank you both. How about we order dessert now? We were about to before you arrived Wooseok. This place is famous for its cakes so..” Donghun trailed off as he pointed at a waitress who came quickly.

“I’ll have a chocolate one..” Donghun said and looked at the others.

“2 red velvets for me and the lady.” Wooseok said when Junhee interrupted them.

“No, make it red velvet and 2 vanillas - one for me and one for the lady.”

Bora felt the tension rising again and she stared wide-eyed at Junhee.

“Bora doesnt like Vanilla.” Wooseok said and Junhee scoffed.

“I’m craving something sweet..” She mumbled as they walked the streets of switzerland after their first dinner date. Junhee suddenly grabbed her hand and pulled her in front of an ice cream shop they had just crossed. The happy giggle that escaped her lips answered him before he could even ask and they went inside as she excitedly looked at the rows of flavour.

“Which one do you want?” he asked and she just stared.

“What are you gonna get?”

“Vanilla. Classic but i love it.” he said and she gasped.

“Can i take vanilla too?” she asked and when he said yes, the huge smile that came on her lips tugged at his heart - he wanted to keep making her smile like that.

“Of Course. Why even the question?” he asked and she looked away, but the whisper that passed her lips reached his ear.

“They say vanilla is the cheapest so I can never have it.”

“Bora was the one who suggested the Vanilla cakes from here when we were talking earlier, so i’m sure she wants that too.” Junhee said and saw how agitated Wooseok was. Bora’s face was expressionless but if he himself didn’t like how that guy was trying to control everything, obviously she wouldn’t like it either right?

“Excuse me ma’am, one piece of Chocolate cake, Vanilla cake and red velvet cake. I don’t feel like eating any dessert. That’ll be all.” Bora said and the waitress left after bowing.

The three men ate their desserts and there was a meagre conversation after that. Soon enough, they bid farewell and Donghun and Junhee got in the car as they saw the engaged couple leave in their separate cars. But then again they were supposedly here for different matters so.

The drive was small, they both lived in the same building so usually shared a car. For a change, there was silence in the car.

“So..” Donghun trailed off and Junhee turned to him.

“So?” Junhee asked.

“Bora. You know her from somewhere don’t you?” Donghun aske and Junhee sighed and nodded.

“What gave it away?”

“She never said she wanted vanilla cake.” Donghun said and Junhee ran a hand through his hair, slightly embarrassed.

“Thanks for not saying anything about it there, hyung.” he mumbled and Donghun laughed.

“It felt like you both did not want that to be known.”

“I guess.” Junhee Said And again there was silence.

“Is she the one? From switzerland?” Donghun asked after a while and Junhee nodded.

“Do you want to cancel the collaboration?” he asked as he parked the car.

“No, why would i want that?” Junhee said, alarmed at what the other was suggesting.

“would you be okay working with her?” Donghun asked again and Junhee could see he was going to bring up how Junhee was when he got back so he stopped him before he could say anything.

“I’ll be fine hyung. Let’s go. It’s not like we’ll have to meet up a lot.”

Donghun sighed but agreed. He was hoping things would work out for the best. But his gut feeling said otherwise.

#a.c.e smut #x1 smut #park junhee #kim wooseok #wooseok smut #a.c.e #a.c.e scenarios #a.c.e imagines #a.c.e jun #a.c.e junhee #x1 imagines #x1 scenarios #x1 wooseok #junhee smut #junhee imagines #wooseok imagines #kim wooseok imagines #ACEWRITERS

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tomorrowsdrama · 4 years

Text

Hyena Ep. 16

I’m baaack! Kind of. I think I hit that point in my quarantine life where I kind of lost my mind so I went on an unexpected hiatus that lasted longer than intended. I know it’s been over a month after the finale of Hyena but here are my ramblings. This post is super long so I’ll save my thoughts on the series as a whole for another post.

Objectively, it was a pretty good finale that was entertaining and wrapped up the important plot lines. We even got some sweet otp moments (more on that later) and satisfying smackdown of the bad guy. But subjectively? Personally? Purely based on my selfish expectations? I wanted more romance! More sexiness! I wasn’t expecting a wedding or anything like that but, not even one kiss? Or a long embrace? Why????

I mean, how can you give me all this sexy chemistry in the promos:

And then not make use of it in the finale? That’s just not fair I say! I feel bamboozled!

Ep. 16

Anyway, let’s talk about the parts I enjoyed of the finale. This is mainly (99%) going to be about the moments between Geum Ja and Hee Jae. So on the morning of episode 16, way back when, I woke up so excited for the finale. Since this was the last episode, surely there will be a kiss! And surely it would be epic given the chemistry between JJH and KHS. I mean did you see that kiss in episode 8? So when we started off the episode with the scene of Hee Jae telling Geum Ja he didn’t want to see her hurt anymore, I was amped. Yes, we’re starting off strong with the romantic scenes I thought.

How can you not fall for him?

Geum Ja, you are not a gangster, you do not need to show your story through the scars on your body. Joking aside, it’s sad that she’s been through so much in life that she has the scars to prove it.

I love that Hee Jae says this half-sarcastically but you can tell that he truly does not want Geum Ja to go through any more pain/suffering. And it’s his sincerity that makes Geum Ja smile so softly. And this is where they kiss right?

Nope, he gets a hearty bro punch in the shoulder.

Cut for lots of caps and ramblings. It’s a bit of a mini novel, you’ve been warned!

Mmm I loved how many scenes of concerned Hee Jae we got in this episode.

Geum Ja screams from a nightmare and Hee Jae immediately runs into the office to check on her. The only way he could have reacted so quickly is if he was sitting outside the office guarding Geum Ja which...AHHH I think I’ve just died and gone to hurt/comfort heaven. Just look at JJH’s face.

EEE! I audibly squealed when Geum Ja said this. Ok, now I’ve truly died. Geum Ja? Asking to be comforted? By Hee Jae? What? This is major. She’s finally letting down her walls a little bit around Hee Jae and allowing herself to be vulnerable. Keep on leaning I say! Lean all the way into bed.

Omg and then she showed concern over Hee Jae’s own emotional state despite her own trauma. His dad totally betrayed him just a few hours ago so Hee Jae’s having a pretty shitty day too. But of course, Hee Jae is only concerned about Geum Ja. Ahh, how many times is he going to make me swoon in this episode?

Feet piled on top of each other?! Are they finally in bed together?

Of course not. Unfortunately, this isn’t that type of drama. SIGH. But this is still very sweet and squeal-inducing.

Have I talked about how much I love JJH’s little sly smirks?

I love that these two fools can’t stop worrying about the other. Geum Ja knows better than anyone how deep emotional scars caused by a parent can be. On top of that, Hee Jae’s father was someone he respected and loved, so the blow is even bigger. I just really like it when my otp show how much they care about each other, ok?

Look at that smile on Hee Jae’s face. It’s like there’s no other place he would rather be than next to Geum Ja.

No, please don’t. Y’all are not 12. Please get at least a queen size bed with plenty of room for two adults to move around in and do...adult things lol.

And then. AND THEN! Geum Ja takes the initiative and turns over towards Hee Jae. She’s finally the one taking the first step towards him without any prodding. And Hee Jae smiles to himself and follows her lead to turn over also. And then the two fools smile lovingly at each other as they fall asleep. Omg, excuse me, I need a moment. I’ve temporarily passed on to the other side from sheer otp happiness.

This moment was just too good. I literally raised both my arms up into the air and cheered when I first watched this episode. I thought, wow the writers are feeding us so well. They’re showering us with so many romantic scenes. The otp caring for each other? Being tender with each other? Sharing a “bed?” I don’t want to ever get off this love train, keep it coming! This is only the first third of the episode so surely it can only go up from here.

And then it ended on a comedic note. I guess I should have seen that coming. This is SBS, not TVN (or JTBC from the looks of The World of the Married). Hah, well I suppose they both had a pretty tiring day so it’s understandable that they would not have much energy to do anything else.

It’s the little everyday things like asking if she’s ok that get me.

(JJH I thirst for you.)

Suuuuure you are.

Lol, he wouldn’t be Hee Jae if he didn’t pull something childish/petty. At least Geum Ja is amused by it and finds it cute now. Get you a man who can be both your emotional support and amusing bratty boyfriend.

Geum Ja does end up meeting Hee Jae for dinner and he can’t help but smile a little. Gosh, it takes so little from Geum Ja to make him happy.

(damn, look at that profile!)

So some time during this episode, Geum Ja’s adoptive father died off-screen from the stab wound he sustained while stopping her assailant. At first, I went “Huh, that’s it?” But then the more I thought about it, the more I liked how matter-of-factly it was treated. It’s certainly consistent with how Geum Ja deals with things. Also, she faced her demons/him in a previous episode so you could say that she already resolved that chapter of her life.

Still, you could tell that she’s not completely unaffected by it. KHS’s acting in this scene is so good. You can tell there’s more to it than what she’s saying just by the little subtle changes in her expression. I can only imagine the many complicated feelings she must be experiencing.

On the one hand, he’s the worst part of her past life and surely deserved to die. But on the other hand, unintentional or not, he died saving her. Geum Ja does not state this with any affection or sentimentality in her voice. It is merely something that happened. Thank goodness the writers did not try to redeem him in the last minute. One good deed does not make up for all the violence and abuse inflicted on her and her mother.

Anyway, all that muddled history and emotions would make anybody conflicted. They really handled it the best way they could - simply state what happened and move on. No hate, no praise, no sadness. He was a terrible man who paid the ultimate price and died. I like that Hee Jae understands not to push the matter any further and changes the subject.

Bro, you’re delusional if you think you still have a chance with her.

And then we get to the ubiquitous Big Shareholder Meeting that we see so often in dramas. I love how Geum Ja is so ballsy in everything she does and she does it all in her comfy tracksuits. Of course the Big Shareholder Meeting does not go as planned and Song Pil Jung gets arrested.

God I love the look on Geum Ja’s face. It screams “is this guy still talking to me?”

Can I just say, I love how utterly brutal Geum Ja is in her rejection of Kevin Jung. Woof, ouch. If I ever heard that from someone I liked, I would be so devastated and embarrassed, I’d find a dark hole to bury myself in and lick my wounds. But of course, Kevin, like all the other men who fall for Geum Ja, seems to be into it. It takes a certain type of man to go for Geum Ja and apparently that type is a total masochist who likes getting rejected and their heart ripped out. I mean, to each their own.

I like whenever they do their power couple strut.

A bro fist bump? Really? Hm, I never really fist bumped the guys I dated but that’s cool I guess. They’re going in to destroy Song Pil Jung so I guess a fist bump is appropriate.

Hm, I don’t know. It seems like you’re the one who got arrested.

Bro. Mister. Are you for real? Did you forget all the shitty things you did to her?

Yeah, that’s kind of a big deal I think.

SO. SATISFYING. Whew honey, this exchange gave me life. My skin has cleared, my bank account is full, and I’ve lost 5 pounds.

Yessss I am all for this nerdy JJH in glasses and turtleneck sipping on expensive instant coffee aesthetic.

The couple that taunts together, stays together?

Hahahahaha, Hee Jae talking about being professional at work? Hahahahha.

I live for jealous Hee Jae because he’s extra ridiculous whenever he’s jealous. In this scene he’s getting jealous over Ju-Ho calling Geuma Ja “noona” and it’s like come on, they’re foster siblings. Let him call her noona. Side note, Netflix translates “noona” into Eun-Young, Geum Ja’s real name, and it irks me. Couldn’t they have just translated it into “sis” instead?

Now we’re around the 55 minute mark and I’m thinking, okay this is probably where it’s going to end. This is when it’s going to happen. They don’t have that much time left in the episode. All right, give me us all that we’ve been waiting for.

(Good looking main stays looking good.)

You can’t ever accuse Hee Jae of not being committed to Geum Ja.

We finally get an explanation for why Geum Ja always stared at that huge building

Haha, can you expect anything less from her character? At this point, I’m looking at the remaining time and thinking, ok then, when’s that kiss gonna happen?

SHRIEKS WHAT ARE THOSE HIDEOUS THINGS ON HIS FEET?! On another note, I’m sure Kim Hye Soo must be so glad she doesn’t have to wear those gigantic heels anymore.

Omg, ok, this is it. We’re getting shots of beautiful sexy people strutting and being playful with each other. They’re setting up for a romantic ending kiss. Ok, time to prepare myself.

Yes, put your arms around each other. We’re getting closer now.

Oh, ok. I guess this will be a far away in the distance kind of kiss. That’s ok, too I guess.

Oh, wait. Never mind. Looks like we’re going to get a frontal view of the ending kiss after all. Even better!

What? That’s it? What? Did I miss something? This can’t be.

Oh whew. An epilogue. Ok, this is when it’s going to happen.

Hahaha, they’re totally using the vloggers to advertise for their law firm. I love how Hee Jae has loosened up on what he thinks a proper lawyer should act like and it’s reflected in his more flamboyant wardrobe choices.

These damn fist bumps again. All the time spent fist bumping could have been spent hugging and kissing. Priorities, people!

Hah, like hell Hee Jae would ever leave Geum Ja.

Haha knew it. Boy is more whipped than whipped cream.

This pretty much sums up their dynamic. SIGH I’m not going to get my kiss am I.

Oh no. That caption can only mean one thing.

Yeeep. That’s it. This is the end. Finito.

Well. All right then. You know, the first time I watched this episode, I felt very disappointed that there was no final kiss. I mean the last time we saw them kissing was in episode 8 at the midpoint of the drama. This drama was clearly a rom com/screwball comedy so it only seemed fitting that there would be one last kiss scene. That’s how you end a romantic drama! But alas.

Actually, upon re-watching and re-capping this episode, I realized that even though we did not get any kiss scene, the writers still gave us plenty of sweet moments between Hee Jae and Geum Ja. We got to see their lovely progression into becoming partners who supported and trusted each other so that was nice. Even though they’re clearly together now, it’s nice to see that they still have their playful bickering dynamic. So objectively, it was a nice ending. I just personally wanted more smooches.

If you made it through this entire post, thank you for expending so much time reading my ramblings and congratultaions on having so much patience!

#sbs hyena #hyena #ju ji hoon #kim hye soo #joo ji hoon #kdrama

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catalinaroleplay · 3 years

Photo

Gender & Pronouns: Cis man, he/him

Date of Birth: July 12th, 1988 (32)

Place of Birth: Westchester, New York

Neighborhood: Ventura

Length of Residency: Since August 2020

Occupation: Senior Investment Strategist at Astor Group

Face Claim: Adam Huber

BIOGRAPHY

TRIGGERS: Domestic Violence, Parental Abuse, Gun Mention, Drug Abuse, Death.

Not all stories can be magical fairytales to make us forget the dark side of the world, the cruel reality in which we live. Happily ever after are meant for the books because, in real life, there’s no such thing. In life, the books go on and the only thing left to do is survive the twists thrown at you, take the punch, wipe off the blood and carry on with another scar to remind you that life is anything but a fairytale.

Born Thomas Cornelius Conyngham, is a member of one of the most influential and oldest families in the United States. Although his father was just a small-town boy, driven by dreams and greed to become more than his old man, a veteran of the Vietnam war and former special agent on the FBI. His mother, Lilian, is the only daughter of Howard Astor, a New Yorker political businessman and socialite that could only be described as the good old American man, one of the last ones standing on the Astor Dynasty whose fortune was well-known by Conrad when he met Lilian at Yale University. The encounter was not an accident, no, there are no accidents when it comes to Conrad. Not only was Lilian beautiful, she was his golden ticket to a life he knew he deserved — she was his way in and to her own disgrace, Lilian fell for his undeniable charm and was, at first, swap off by his ambitious dreams. Yet, she knew it would not be an easy road to travel when Howard was not fond of his daughter’s choice for a boyfriend. Conrad did not fill the requirements to earn a place in the family.

But, you tell a young woman she cannot be with the boy she loves, the first love she has ever known, is the same as giving her your seal of approval.

Two years into dating and they were married, moving to Scarsdale to start their lives together. Lillian was the newly appointed journalist, writing for a local newspaper and Conrad an associate lawyer. The firsts years of marriage and life were not one to complain, they were working non-stop and barely had any time for arguments, it was a well-oiled machine that worked for both, at first. Conrad’s greediness, could not accept Lilian not wanting to have her father’s help. He did not want to be stuck with an associate paycheck when he could jump right into a partner position with just a phone call by his father-in-law. When the fights began, they only stopped (or pressed pause) to welcome their first son — Thomas. A charming, loving kid with the prettiest eyes you have seen.

Thomas was his mother’s pride and joy and his father’s greatest prize. The only time he and Howard agreed on something was that Tom was fated to greatness and greatness only, anything less than that was not acceptable. From the minute the boy came into the world, his destiny was sealed. Raised to be nothing less than extraordinary, the golden boy, an exceptional athlete, and top of his class at one of the best private schools in America. It was even ridiculous to think that someone’s life could be so perfect. Indeed, it wasn’t, imagine having your whole life planned for you and not having a say in any aspect of it — must drive anyone to madness. Still, Tom could not complain, he could not show weakness because his father would not tolerate it. He’d wake up at five in the morning to run before school, come home from practice to do his homework, and then get to work out some more with his dad, or spend time in the pool. Thomas was a robot, nurturing his father’s dreams and desires while bottling his will and feeding his frustration for not having the control of his own choices. As the years passed, he started to look at his father with other lenses. He saw him for the bully he actually was; Controlling his life for his own pleasure, complaining, playing games with Thomas’ mind to make him believe that it was just his way to show affection, love. But nothing was ever good enough for the man, there was no right because it didn’t matter what Thomas did, still wasn’t enough to satisfy Conrad. He always needed more, to the point where his greed almost killed his family, twice.

First, when Thomas collapsed during a swimming competition after hitting his head at the edge of the pool. His body was too exhausted, seeking for rest, one Thomas did not give because he always needed that extra hour. An extra hour provided by the use of Adderall. The first time he took, six months prior to the accident, to prevent the fatigue he was fighting off and then, again, and again till it became a problem. However, the fights between his parents made the problem pass unnoticed, until the doctors came with the result of his exams and his mother took over, standing for Thomas’ defense when it came to his father. He was sent for a two week treatment in a private facility away from home with the excuse of emotional exhaustion. Of course, the family paid to make everything go away and not stain Thomas’ record. Yet, as soon as he came home, the fights did not decrease but it became worse instead. And just like that, Thomas was gone. Started with minor crimes that were always covered by his father and grandfather’s influence. Countless hookups and parties at the Astors’ Estate all over the country. Thomas almost got expelled from high school, if it wasn’t from his grandfather buying the school a whole new library. One night, when he came home after leaving for God knows why, the fight between Conrad and Lilian became physical and Thomas jumped into his father. The years of abuse blinded him, he was a tic-tac bomb with nuclear power, fed with the years of abuse in the hands of his own father, that exploded. He could hear his mother screaming in the back, but it was a distant sound and not enough to make him stop. When his father took a swing back, knocking Thomas down, he ran for the gun he knew was hidden inside the house and he would have shot, he wanted to, but the moment of hesitation looking at his mother’s eye as she put herself in front of it made the boy pull the weapon down. His father took the moment to run and it was the last time Thomas saw him. After that fateful night, his parents signed a confidential deal, one to help with all the ammunition it needed to make Conrad’s life a living hell in case he breaks it, to keep the episode under the carpet. Howard made him sign away any right he had over Lilian’s money and more important, sign Thomas and the twins away. He no longer had any right over the children and his name was wiped from their birth certification.

At sixteen, Thomas Cornelius Conyngham was now: Thomas Cornelius Astor. Son of Lillian Astor and grandson of Howard Astor. Against Howard’s will, they moved to Catalina with the excuse of visiting old friends and Lilian’s new job in Los Angeles.

It was a fresh start to say the least, for both of them, but how do you carry on after something like that has happened to you? You don’t. You need to reframe life as you have known till it becomes normal. Eventually, things start to adjust, little by little. Lilian found love, one that is kind and generous, one that is unfeigned. The twins grew free from an abusive father. Thomas graduated with a summa cum laude degree in Global Affairs and Economics by Columbia University and a Masters in Project Management and International Business by Oxford. As much as his grandfather still held lots of expectations, he was taught what it meant to have the respect and the love of his grandchild and that meant more to him. They rebuilt their relationship, became closer and along with Oliver, Lilian’s new husband, Thomas found the support of a father figure and love. Whatever that means and Oliver’s name is the one in their birth certificate now, he legally adopted the children.

Life carried on as it always does. The boy was now a man, back in Manhattan and assuming more responsibilities at the Astor Group he is meant to, one day, command. He has been working his way up, besides what anyone thinks, he earned a PhD in Columbia to only increase his knowledge to help the business grow. He is passionate about the work he does, reformulating the Astor Group to be what he stands for and to hold the values of more than just an Real-Estate and Investment Group, but one that offers fair opportunities to whoever seeks them and does not discriminate. Thomas is a very key player in the work they do, to give the company a new aspect and a chance to continue the work as the world changes. On the side, founding the Boreal Group, the primary philanthropic and charitable vehicle for the Astor family. His mother is chairman, in charge of and owning 51% of the shareholders while Thomas and his siblings are the equal owners of the remaining.

Notorious playboy with a good heart became New York’s most eligible bachelor, Thomas Astor was successful, rich and not bad to look at, but very skeptical about relationships because he already met the love of his life a long time ago but the life twists made that, only a few chapters in the book. Still, time was moving and so was the pressure of his family and peers to ‘settle’ down and produce heirs. Thomas decided to take the easy route and got engaged to someone his grandfather approved and his mother was happy with, but it wasn’t love. At the night of their engagement party, Thomas received a phone call from his father’s attorney to inform Conrad passed away and, not only that, but named Thomas on his will as the only rightful heir. He hasn’t spoken or seen his father since the night he left and the only information he had was that Conrad became a partner to a firm in San Francisco and remarried. However, to Thomas’s surprise not only was Conrad married but Thomas had another sibling, a brother younger than his half-sister that was left with nothing. He flew to San Francisco the same night, not to the funeral but to speak with his father’s widow and half-brother, explain he wanted nothing to do with the money left and would happily sign it away back to them. Instead, he wanted a chance to meet his brother because if there’s one thing Thomas knows, is how scar one can become growing under the influence of Conrad Conyngham. It was a moment of clarity for the man, work was taking a lot of his life, he barely had the time to see his family in California, the twins were having lives of their own and Thomas was isolating himself inside a penthouse. Almost getting married just for the sake of everyone else. He was giving up the control of his life again and he could, again, hear the constant presence of his father’s voice in the back of his head telling him he wasn’t good enough. This was the only thing he could do to please others, be what they expected you to be.

Before he could be sent into a spiral, down back to a dark place of his mind, he ended the engagement with Amelia, packed his bag and moved his operation to the West Coast to try and reconnect with another part of his life and try to find the balance he seeks. It has been a long time since he has known love or friendship.

PERSONALITY

Positive: Courageous | Genuine | Protective

Negative: Destructive | Pompous | Competitive

Thomas Astor is portrayed by Carol.

#all #male #ventura #domestic violence tw #parental abuse tw #gun mention tw #drug abuse tw #death tw #adam huber

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rosepetals-flyingbirds · 5 years

Text

Apprehensive.

With: Modern!Ubbe x Reader.

Warning: Angst, language, jealousy, smut, fluff.

Word Count: 3,860.

You entered your apartment completely mad at your boyfriend’s behavior, you tossed your purse on the couch and heard the door banging strongly behind you.

You took a deep breath not wanting to fight with your loved one. “Ubbe, I wasn’t flirting with him, why can’t you trust me? He is my coworker!” You walked to the bathroom to take your make-up off.

Ubbe followed you, that fight had occurred since you left the party. The car drive was a mess of words and annoyance. “Yeah, co-worker. He was really touchy of you.” Your associate was sort of touchy, at first, you didn’t notice. He had touched your forearm when he greeted you and Ubbe at the party, then he touched your lower back when he was passing by, and in the end he hugged you way too long for Ubbe’s annoyance.

“Love, he is a colleague, I can’t pick up a fight over this. The project is going perfectly well and we are almost finishing it.” You took off your dress and stood just in your underwear.

Ubbe crossed his arms. “Maybe if you give the shareholders the amount of attention you give to that guy maybe they would buy it faster.” He said bitterly.

You looked at him in pure aberration. “Fuck you.” You said pissed, “This is my job! The one I had worked my ass off to get, just because you’re assuming things it doesn’t mean I am doing something with him.” You walked out of the bedroom where Ubbe was still fully dressed in a beautiful suit.

He shook his head. “Who says I am assuming something? I mean, just if you are doing something since you’re so defensive.”

“For fuck sakes!” You yelled in annoyance. “Ubbe nothing is happening, if it was I wouldn’t take you there right? And matter fact what would I ever cheat on you?” He kept silent but his mind made hundreds of possible reasons.

You recognized his quietness right away and he stood with wrath in his eyes, you crossed your arms and walked to face him, your height not helping in your façade but he knew you were angry at him. “Tell me, tell me the reason you’re thinking.” You challenged.

He took off his jacket throwing on the side of the bedroom where you had placed your dress on. “He is your colleague but I’m sure he could manage to put you in a higher promotion.” He said bitterly and you widened your eyes not believing his words.

“So the only reason that would make me successful in my career would be if I get laid with someone?” You suggested and he stood still, Ubbe knew you were brilliant and could do anything you wanted to, but his male paranoia was kicking. “Wow, just wow!”

Ubbe scoffed and rubbed his head in annoyance.

He followed your steps and found you in the kitchen drinking water with your hands trembling. The previous days had been amazing, he had cherished you because of your promotion and even before the party where you two had started some ’business’ in the couch and would conclude back on your apartment after the party.

You didn’t even drink the whole water, you couldn’t restrain your rage. “You know what?” You walked closer to his body. “If I would get laid with that guy just because of money don’t you think I would ignore this and just fancy your money?” You challenged, Ubbe was sort of… rich. He and his brother ruled the Kattegat Company and had subsidiaries all over the world. By his silence, you couldn't contain your eyes from widening. “But maybe you think that is the reason I’m with you, don’t you? The reason I’m with you is because of your money?” You suggested, Ubbe treated you like the princess he swore you were, he bought expensive gifts and you always said he didn’t need to, and whenever you two would hang out you always told you wanted at least pay for your part of the bill.

You couldn’t believe the situation, you walked to your bedroom grabbing a pillow and a duvet and threw the things on the couch. “You can sleep here tonight, or if you want you can leave and I don’t know, buy a fucking hotel since you are so rich and that is why your girlfriend it’s with you.” Ubbe scratched his head, how in a minute ago he was saying about your asshole colleague and now you assumed he believes you were only interested in his money.

“I didn’t say it Y/N.” He yelled.

“Oh, you didn’t have to!” You responded. “Your silence said specifically what you were speculating.” His breath was ragged just like yours. “Who do you think I am Ubbe? Do I look like that stupid whore you used to fuck around? Huh?” You touched his chest with your fingers forcefully. “The one all of you brothers slept with, the one that tried everything to enter on your family and take your money? DO I LOOK LIKE HER?!” You yelled.

“NO!” He shouted back making you endure quiet trying to calm down your nerves, you were so mad that you wanted to punch him, he wouldn’t hurt you back but it didn’t make an excuse for you to hurt him. Turning around to walk to your bedroom ready to lock the door and cry inside, Ubbe grabbed your wrist and spun you around to face him. “You are not, I didn’t mean it like that. I just love you so fucking much that I can’t even stand the thought of losing you.” He said truthfully.

“I love you! But I cannot fight with you every time a guy behaves friendly towards me, I know you want me to quit and be sustained by you but I need my independence Ubbe! Please realize this!”

“I do, and you’re brilliant and can do anything you aspire to, I’m sorry if I made you believe I imagined otherwise. Is just, I hate when these assholes gawk at you like you’re available,” He touched your cheek and caressed. “Because you are not.” He said with an ardent gaze, his pupils twisting black, but you didn’t know if it was fury or desire.

He grabbed your chin between his fingers and brought your face closer to his kissing you, the kiss was intense and you could feel his possessiveness there. You wanted to argue, to make him recognize his worries were out of nothing, but oh, his kisses were surely making you lose any spirit of fight.

His hands roamed to your ass grabbing and lifting your body out of the floor bringing it close to his and locking your legs around his waist. “Have you any idea how hard its to argue while you are only wearing these?” He said and you knew he meant your panties and bra.

You just hummed and grabbed his face firmly in your hand, your palms touching his beard that made him look so manly. “I’m still mad though.” You said and he chuckled, he left your lips and kissed your neck making you shiver.

He walked to the bedroom and throw you on the bed. “Am I banned from your bed, love?” He asked and kneeled on the floor kissing your legs starting a kiss trail up.

“Depends.” You said and moaned when he hand squeezed your thigh tightly while his mouth was kissing the skin above your knee.

“Of what?” He did the same action in the other leg and brought you panties out of you.

“Of how much you’re willing to apologize.” You said and tried to look at him seductively, failing since he took off his one button business shirt making his chest on full display.

Ubbe just smiled and grabbed your calf turning your body around making your stomach touch the mattress with your ass up.

If Ubbe liked one thing better than your tits, it was surely your ass. He couldn’t spend a single day without touching you.

His firm palms grabbed both buttocks and squeezed it earning a moan from you. You could feel your nipples hardening against your lace bra. You felt the bed deepen when he kneeled on it, you touched his thigh and groaned feeling he was still in pants. “What is the matter, love?” He teased, his accent transforming the sweet nickname even more seductive.

You tried to turn your body around but he set one hand firmly on your lower back forcing you against the bed. He tsked and you were mad at how of a tease he was. “Ubbe, please.”

He lowered his body and kissed the back of your neck, he grabbed your hair and made a ponytail with his finger, he pulled it making your head move back and your back touch his bare warm chest. “You wish it was him touching you Y/N? That annoying little guy that probably doesn’t even know how to pleasure a woman?” He asked and even though you wanted to say he was being ridiculous or something like that, his hot skin against your bareback made your aroused core say differently.

“Maybe he does know how.” You said and bit your tongue, maybe teasing him wasn’t the best choice. He scoffed and when you looked over your shoulder you saw a mischievous smile up on his gorgeous face.

“You will regret saying that.” He warned, in his raspy voice and you felt a chill running up through your body. He opened your bra and kneeled back at the bed leaving you there.

He took off his pants and stood in his Calvin Klein black underwear. He held your hips and rotated your body once again, you squealed with of how secure the movement was, he touched the straps of your bra taking it out of your arms and tossed it somewhere. “Such pretty tits,” He groaned and attacked your nipple into his mouth while his other hand touched the other one twisting your nipple on his fingers.

He bit it and you screamed in agony and arousal, Ubbe was sort of insatiable but he always tried to be careful with your breasts knowing that biting it would hurt, but he was possed by a beast, he was jealous of the men you talked with and he worries about you everytime he had to travel back to Denmark and leave you there in the aim of those stupid men that supposed could deserve you on their pathetical little lives.

Ubbe wished you would quit everything and go to live with him, traveling and spending all the time together, he couldn’t get enough of your presence and your beauty making his days brighter and happier.

His lips trailed down on your body biting and sucking the skin. His hands squeezing your sides making you moan in response, Ubbe knew every single spot to make you weak. “I love how responsive you’re to my touch.”

He opened your legs and placed one of them on his muscled back while he interlaced his arm around the other one. He started with kitty licks torturing you and looked up at your face his beautiful blue eyes that became were dark with arousal. He tortured you until you were holding his hair trying to make him go faster, he stopped and you whimpered feeling your climax fading away. “You move too much.” He said and walked to the closet.

You propped your body on your elbows and widened your eyes, he couldn’t start something like that and just leave. “What? Come back here.” You stated and he just kept searching something on your drawers. Ubbe grabbed two of his ties and walked back to your reach. “No no no.” You said knowing that he only used those in bed to punish you really slowly.

“Is not like you hate it.” He said with a firm voice and stared at your wrists. “Up.” He ordered and it surely made you shake inside. You didn’t move so he grabbed both of your wrists and held up strongly while stared at your eyes.

He laced both wrists with his ties locking them in the headboard and kneeled back on the bed sitting above you, his thumbs touched your nipples and he smiled seeing you whimpering.

“Ubbe I’m sorry okay, I didn’t mean that.” You almost moaned.

He is such a tease.

“Shh, or I will close your mouth with a tie too.” He warned and used the tip of his nails on your skin making goosebumps erupt on the surface of your body. “So tell me, how can I punish you for being a smarty mouth, eh?” He lowered his body and kissed between your breasts. “Maybe orgasm denial?” You shook your head with a desperate ‘no’.

He glanced at you and smirked kissing lower and lower on your body. “Maybe some spanking?” You could feel your pussy lips wetting just with the thought, nothing was sexier than Ubbe spanking your ass. “Nah, you would like that very much.” He laid in the exact way he was moments prior, pulling your leg over his shoulder and holding the other one. His lips and tongue attacked your labia and you were pulling the ties, you wanted to hold his hair but his roguish idea caught that opportunity out of your hands, literally.

Ubbe tortured you, he was going so slowly and every time you complained he just threatened you saying he would tie your mouth too. The position wasn’t the best for him so he grabbed a pillow and placed it under you so your pussy would be in better access, when he did so you knew he wasn’t planning to finish anytime soon. His sea-blue colored pools offered nothing but lust on your body.

“Ubbe I’m sorry, just please do- do something.” You moaned.

He smiled and got faster in his movements, his whole mouth making its place on your pussy making an astonishing feeling run on your veins. He kept going and going.

The mixture of his hands squeezing your body, his mouth going full speed knowing exactly how you liked and the addition of his beautiful eyes gazing at you made the crashingly pleasure start to shake your limbs, but then you felt the fire almost blowing when he stopped everything.

You groaned and moved your hips up trying to make him go back to work. “Not such a smarty mouth now are we?!”

He moved his body in the bed reaching your mouth on his, he kissed you lazily making you taste yourself in his mouth, you groaned and moved your right leg placing it around his hip, his erection prominent under his black underwear. “Come on baby you know you want it too.” You tried to sound seductive but Ubbe just tsked.

He left your lips and laid on his side, his face close to your neck, he placed both of his fingers in your mouth and you sucked them while gazing his eyes knowing it fully turned him on every single time.

He took the wet fingers and played on your pussy in circles motions adding on the already wet flesh. He entered the two fingers inside and you moaned loudly at the feeling, his prior activity made your walls flushed and desperate for release.

He moved it to hit perfectly you g-spot and placed his thumb on your clit making circles on it, how he controlled to have such motor function you will never know.

His eyes were fixed on your face, your beautiful face trembling with pure inordinate pleasure. His two fingers going in and out until he added a third and you pulled the ties strongly feeling like you would break the headboard. “Ubbe Ubbe Ubbe.” You said desperately, your walls were starting to clench and the fucker smiled and started to kiss and bite your cheek.

Everything was too much, his lips on your face, his digits inside of you, his warm body brushing yours. A tired smile nearly settled on your lips when he took his fingers out and you cried. “Ubbe!” You yelled.

He laughed and kissed your hot cheek, your neck and above your nipple. “Already regret the bad behavior from earlier?”

You kept quiet, you wouldn’t apologize for something foolish, you had never looked at your colleague with second intentions. With or without Ubbe, you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction so you kept quiet and just looked at him, which made him shook his head in disapproval. “And that was just the second one I let fade, do you wanna beat the record? I guess so, since you refuse to apologize.”

He was right, only two denied orgasm left your body, he was great in edging you and your body couldn’t handle it. He only used his mouth and finger, he had other fun ways to torture you. The pride spoke louder than your tremble body. “I have nothing to apologize for.” You simply said.

He smirked and shook his head to the side in the appealing way he does. “You have no idea what you just settled here baby girl.” His voice was so deep that if he talked for a few more seconds you could finally reach your release.

He stood up and traveled his finger over your form, each slightly brush making you shiver. He took off his underwear and his erection slapped his lower abdomen, the tip wet with pre-cum, after all, it wasn’t only you suffering, he opened the nightstand taking a condom out of it, and opened the small package placing the item on his shaft.

He stroked it a few times to make sure it was well placed, and the vision was unmistakably a turn on.

He turned your body around making your arms form an X, the position wasn’t much suitable. Ubbe positioned your body the way he wanted. He grabbed your hips lifting them with one hand while the other pushed your knees making you lift only your ass to his view. The way he separated your legs made your pussy lips and asshole in his display. He kneeled closer and you smiled believing he was tired of such heavy ‘blue balls’ and he would finish the torment.

He played the tip of his heavy cock on your lips making your body anticipate what it was to come. You listened him chuckling while he grabbed his length dragging it up and down on your lower back. You pushed your ass against his crotch and he held your hips firmly with both hands surely leaving marks behind.

You stood quietly on his mercy so he let your hips and traveled the hands to grab your ass, he did so and pinched the flesh gaining loud groans.

Ubbe slapped your right cheek and you yelped in surprise, he did the same with the other and kept doing so alternating from one ass cheek to the other.

He grabbed his cock and pushed inside your pussy stretching his way in, you moaned and bit the pillow. You and Ubbe had had sex hundreds of time but after such a treating it was a relief to finally feel his warm length inside of you.

He grunted and you smiled, you squeezed your walls accomplishing another slap on your ass. “Don’t do that.” He ordered.

You did it again. “Why? Because doing so you will cum?” You replied with pure naughtiness on your face, a smirk placed on your lips.

You expected another slap but for your surprise, he just fastened the movement of his thrusts. It was such a sinful feeling, your arms were hurting but you felt amazed at the sensation going through your body, you compressed your walls and Ubbe took it off leaving you panting and exasperated. “Uhhhhh.” You whined.

Your boyfriend was panting too so you knew he was suffering just like you. But neither of you could find the climax because his pride was speaking louder.

You had to admit, you were too but either way he can’t just assume things and make unnecessary fights out of it.

Ubbe flipped your body and laid on you entering his cock once again inside your wet cunt, his eyes were fixed on yours and you pulled the ties wishing to hug him close to your body. He peered up at the sound of the headboard beating and took of the knots he had made previously, when the ties left your wrists he kissed your sore skin and moved you to lay on your back while he slowly entered inside of you.

You interlaced your legs around his waist pushing his ass with your feet, that way he could go even deeper, his moves became faster and sloppier. “That’s my girl. Cum for me.”

Moans and pantings for breath occurred and when you could feel his hips losing the expert focus and his thigs shivering almost imperceptibly. You pulled his hair to look at his eyes and you two found the so needed climax together.

You two stood there, his heavy figure above you and your nails scratching his back softly, both enjoying the delirious sensation.

The place was silent, the only sound was your tired breaths.

Ubbe lifted his head and looked at you, he placed his thumb on your lips and touched them effectively making some lazy movements, normally he would be talkative or tease you but now he was just quiet. “What is it?” You asked and kissed his finger.

He remained silently looking at your facial traces, his fingers caressing each detail on it. “Do you promise we’re okay? That I ain’t leaving you deserving anything… that when I travel you don’t feel lonely.”

You touched his hair and caressed it. “Ubbe, of course you ain’t leaving anything behind. You’re a great boyfriend and I love you. You respect me, you take care of me, you always call me when you’re far away.” He smiled and looked into your eyes for a few seconds before playing his attention to your lips again. “I can’t picture myself with any other man in the whole universe.”

“Do you mean it? If not we can… try something.”

You tried to find a way to make him understand. “Would you rather be with someone else?”

“Of course not.” He replied directly like it was the most naked truth.

“Same thing goes for me.” You kissed his chest.

He nodded and you stood up walking to the living room to get the duvet and the pillow you had thrown on the sofa. You walked back and he was laid on his back now.

“What if we take some vacation? Whatever place you want to go.”

You laid in bed on his side and propped your leg on his midsection. “Ubbe, I know you just want to take me away.”

“No isn’t that… I just want to spend some time, the two of us.” He placed his arm around your shoulders and brought you even closer to his body, your head resting on his neck.

“We traveled do Denmark three months ago, baby.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, but it was Christmas. And Hvitserk couldn’t leave your side.” He said pissed.

You laughed at his exaggeration. “Still darling, I’m doing good in my job. How about that… I make a few changes to it and then we can spend a weekend together. In that country!” You exclaimed knowing he would make a few calls and then you two would get in somewhere like Greece. “Like a road trip, for example, just the two of us.”

“We can do that, and then we travel somewhere else.” He said and you rolled your eyes.

“Okay okay, but let’s sleep because you sort of wore me out and since I was already tired...”

“I planned a lot more of teasing actually. But your ass was so sexy on full display.” He said seriously and you couldn’t help but smirk.

You squeezed your arms around his body. “I love you, Ubbe-Rubi.” You said.

“I love you.” He replied and kissed your head. “I’m sorry for acting like an idiot.”

“It’s okay… it does piss me off but I guess in that way I know you care.”

“I do.” He answered and gave your shoulder a squeeze to place emphasis.

You two remained there, the tiredness took you first since you were already tired before the “activity”.

Ubbe caressed your hair until he felt his eyes heaving. He let the sleep take him in, he couldn’t wait to wake up next morning beside you and find another a way to apologize.

...

#ubbe x reader #modern ubbe

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diyunho · 5 years

Text

The Joker x Reader-”The One That Got Away” Part 1

The terrorist attack targeting Wayne National Bank nearly three years ago left only one survivor behind: Y/N almost died from the injuries, but she was lucky enough to wake up at the hospital days later. It was so hard to cope with the news: on top of losing her eyesight, the young woman lost her co-workers also and strangely enough the one responsible for the entire tragedy wasn’t The Clown Prince of Crime.

“They told me you’re here again,” you smile and there’s no answer. “Are you going to come in or do you want me to bring you something to eat? We’re closing soon, it’s almost 10pm.”

The blind Y/N extends the cane until it touches the recipient of her visit.

“I understand that you’re shy and there’s nothing wrong with it; you just need to tell me.”

“I’m not shy,” the deep tone interrupts.

“So are you coming in this time?” Y/N asks while the man grunts and she correctly guesses he’s getting up from his spot. “Follow me,” you encourage and he pulls the hoodie on his face, steadily walking behind the woman leading the way. “Today we have chicken soup and spaghetti with red sauce. That that I want to brag, but it turned out pretty good,” you giggle to lighten up the atmosphere: you’re aware it’s not easy for some living on the streets to acknowledge they require help.

“Mina!” you shout as you enter the spacious room. “Another portion please!”

“Sure thing!” the assistant’s energetic reply is perceived from beyond the counter.

“You can take a sit at any table, she’ll bring the food shortly,” you let him know and then loudly inquire: “Who else is here?”

“I’m here,” Silvia answers, slurping on her hot soup.

“Me too,” you hear Walter. “I also see Dave, Russell, Angie. The rest I’m not sure,” the 70 years old informs, pointing at the newcomer.

“Hey new guy, you have a name?” Angie licks her fork, digging in the pile of pasta afterwards.

The man is silent for a few moments, then mutters through his teeth:

“Jay.”

“You’re lucky there’s still food left, son! It’s crazy busy all the time,” Dave huffs. “This is the best Soup Kitchen in Gotham, and the lady standing in front of you a true angel!” one of the regulars states with such conviction it prompts cheers from the others left in the cafeteria at the end of the busy day.

“If only,” you laugh amused at the affirmation.

“Here you go; enjoy,“ Mina brings over a bowl of soup and a plate full of spaghetti to the man that’s been lurking around for the past two months but didn’t step into the building until today. Jay mumbles something resembling a “thanks” and by the sounds he makes slurping on the hot liquid one could say it’s very appreciated.

The volunteers would tell you if they spotted him outside the premises and you would usually take food to him, offering a place at a table which he refused; not the first or the last to show restrain when shown kindness.

You’re a bit surprised he decided to finally join the crowd; maybe he doesn’t like being around people.

“Mina, are you ok closing with John and Sandy? I have to open the bakery in the morning,” you explain although it’s not necessary.

“Yes, of course; told you should have went home an hour ago. They’re almost done with the dishes and we won’t have that much left to do after the last guests finish their meal. We’ll be fine, don’t worry. OK?” the young woman gives you a soft nudge towards the door and you feel the ground with the cane, eager to take a shower after the long day.

“Good night then,” you smile,” see you guys soon.”

“Good night!” several voices respond back.

The apartment is just three blocks away, conveniently situated on the top of the bakery you own: “Sweet Temptations” is one of the most popular bakeries in Gotham, slowly becoming a contender for the first position.

Once outside you stop for a few moments to enjoy the silence and the soft breeze on your cheeks before reprising your walk. Police cars alarms start blaring in the distance and you sigh, annoyed: quietness never lasts for too long in this damned city.

You turn left on Glissan Avenue and halt, carefully listening: you could swear you discerned some snickering ahead of you. Maybe not?...

A few more feet and your cane is abruptly yanked out of your hand, almost making you lose balance:

“Hey pretty girl, can I get a kiss in exchange for the stick?”

You straighten your shoulders, frowning:

“Randy, is that you?!”

“Umm…it’s possible,” he chuckles and you feel the air around, trying to find his body.

“I’m exhausted and not in the mood for your crap!” you admonish and want to continue but you get interrupted:

“I’m sorry, Y/N. You know my brother’s an idiot!...Hey…Hey!!!! What the…,” the other young man yells and the noise of a loud punch and broken bone startles you. “Hey, leave my brother alone!!!!...Oh shit!” the turmoil of a struggle and more ruckus indicating a fight make you frantically search for your cell in the purse.

“What’s going on?” you ask, scared at the moans of pain.

“I think he broke my nose,” Randy manages to utter still dizzy from the unexpected attack. His sibling Steve is trying to defend himself from the aggressor, apparently without too much success since the thud reaching your ears indicates he got thrown on the concrete pavement.

“If…if you’re The Batman, I can assure you I’m not in any kind of danger!” you pant, scared about whatever the hell is happening. “I know them, please stop!”

“It’s not…it’s not The Batman…” Randy gags, the taste of his own blood making him nauseated.

“I’m calling 911!” the cell phone is taken out of the bag and Randy shrieks:

“He’s running away…”

“Please don’t call the cops,” Steve mutters, not having the strength to get up yet. “I’m sure they’re not gonna like the fact that two teenagers fresh out of the juvie already got involved into an altercation.”

“I can testify you got assaulted!”

“Yeah, but you didn’t see anything,” Steve groans while his brother helps him up. “They might twist it against us and I don’t want to go back to detention.”

“Me neither,” Randy grumbles, wiping his bloody nose with the sleeve of his jacket.

“Did you see who it was?” you inquire, placing the phone in your pocket; you sure don’t want to create any more trouble for them.

“No,” the cane is returned to the anxious Y/N. “His mug was covered with a hoodie.”

***************

Next morning, 5:43am

The bell dinging makes you aware someone entered the bakery.

“I’m sorry, we’re still closed until 6am,” you announce to the customer while brewing a fresh pot of coffee.

“Hello Y/N, it’s me”, the familiar voice makes you smile.

“Good morning Mister Wayne; your box is ready,” you slide the package on the other side of the counter.

“Thank God! I hate early corporate meetings and this amazing stuff makes me wake up a bit, enough to seem like I’m interested, you know?” he soundlessly yawns and you burst out laughing.

“I’m glad it helps. Coffee?”

“Please!”

“The usual?”

“Naaah. Surprise me,” Bruce smirks and watches Y/N quite fascinated as she puts together his drink. Even if she can’t see, she moves with such ease and he takes a remorseful deep breath, wishing he could share his thoughts.

“Here you go Mister Wayne, triple shot. I think you need it today,” you hand over his cup and he takes a sip, smacking his lips in the process.

“This is very good,” Bruce praises your skills because lingering around the bakery for a few minutes it’s so much better that the dreadful meeting he’s about to attend. He takes a big stack of money from the inside pocket of his suit and hands it over to you.

“Are these…are these hundreds?!” you inquire, puzzled.

The lack of an answer confirms it.

“Mister Wayne, you don’t have to do this each time you come in. This is just... a lot again and the total for your box is only 46 dollars.”

“If I want to leave a tip, then I will. Share with your employees,” the stubborn heir suggests because this is how he usually convinces you to accept the money.

You want to protest but he keeps rambling on:

“There are also two checks in there: one for my monthly contribution to your charity, the other one you could say it’s an investment. Entirely up to you of course, but I would love for you to expand your business: a location next to the Wayne Tower would make me very happy. Every time I’m there pretending to be working I could run and get me a delicious treat to make my day better. ”

You blankly stare at him, deciding to speak up.

“Mister Wayne…You don’t have to do this… It wasn’t your fault…”

Bruce is grateful you can’t see his painful grimace at the candid words meant to alleviate the guilt of an event he failed to predict as both the main shareholder of Gotham National Bank and as his alter ego.

“You are not responsible for the lives that were lost. You just owned the bank, nothing more. It was very unfortunate, but please stop blaming yourself.”

He doesn’t comment yet, oddly enough paying attention to Y/N’s advice.

“You might not realize it, but you make this city a better place Mister Wayne; your generous donations truly make a difference. With your aid, my charity allows me to literally assist hundreds of those in need. That wouldn’t be possible without you. Take The Batman too for example; because of him this town is safer: he can’t get rid of all the rotten evil eating away at its core, but his watchful eye is a tremendous boost of hope for the rest of us. One person can’t do everything and he is not accountable for every bad action he cannot stop. You’re not more responsible than he is for the fate of others.”

Bruce sniffles, somehow relieved by the sudden monologue.

“You’re a good man, Mister Wayne. The tabloids might depict you as a carefree playboy, still they should mention your achievements also. Or at least bring up some details about that nice cologne you wear,” you giggle and his body relaxes at the small joke after being tense throughout the whole speech.

“It’s Dior,” he admits with a grin meant to alleviate the seriousness of what you just told him. And Bruce certainly appreciates it since he had no idea how much he craved to hear a confirmation of his own flaw: he is human after all, either as the rich billionaire or as The Batman. “Thank you…” he briefly touches your fingers while taking the box from the counter.

“I meant it Mister Wayne.”

“I know…” he sighs. “Think about the business proposal, OK?”

“I will,” you promise although you are not convinced it’s such a great plan on top of the numerous projects you’re involved in.

“I’ll see you next week,” Bruce promises and exits the pastry shop, abandoning its owner until their upcoming rendezvous.

You feel sorry for him, you really do. You hope what you told him stuck in the back of his mind: remorse is a strong poison Bruce Wayne should stay away from at any cost, especially when he’s in the center of attention due to his social position. Plus, he’s not liable for the tragedy that occurred nearly three years ago, even if he believes otherwise…

You were working as a teller at Wayne National Bank for eight months and that day was nothing special until the shift was almost over. The 25 year old Y/N went downstairs with her drawer in order to go over her daily transactions and make sure there were no discrepancies. Moments later, a powerful explosion shook the building and leveled it out in a matter of seconds, taking down walls and people alike as it sunk into rubble.

The only survivor was you since you happened to be in the vault; the metal crate protected you from the blast and you were lucky the emergency response team dug you out from under the debris in time: Y/N nearly perished and woke up at the hospital days later blind and unable to cope with the news: on top of losing her eye-sight, she lost her co-workers too.

Bruce Wayne felt responsible: he took pride in having the most sophisticated and advanced security system in place, yet nothing is fool proof, including the engineers that built it and sold out the secrets to the wrong people for the right price.

The terrorist attack was claimed by the Triple Star gang, another one of their attempts to take over Gotham in the never-ending battle for the top spot with The Joker. And Gotham’s citizens got caught in the crossfire. Again.

Bruce paid for everyone’s funerals and handsomely rewarded the grieving families along with his public apologies; the media tried to shred him to pieces, dragging his name in the mud again. It all died out once the family members of those killed in the attack sided with the billionaire: there’s nothing more off-putting to the press than dust settling over sensationalism without backup evidence.

You used the share you received from your ex-employer to open the bakery and start the kitchen soup, both venues flourishing under your patronage. Bruce was a constant customer and donor from day one, which aided raise awareness to the point of Y/N becoming some sort of local celebrity: despite her blindness after surviving catastrophe, she found the strength to rise above the shattered pieces of her life and help the less fortunate, which gained her the nickname of Angel of Gotham.

“Y/N,” Shane gets you out of trance, “do you want the chocolate croissants on top shelves today?”

“Yes, by the apple fritters and blueberry muffins,” you answer while the rest of the opening shift brings out the trays with freshly baked pastries from the kitchen.

The bell dings and Andy rushes in, frantically repeating:

“I know I’m late! I know I’m late!”

“AGAIN!!!” almost everyone teases in the same time, the choir urging more clumsy excuses:

“I know, ok? I’m deeply sorry. My car died out!”

“AGAIN!!!” the crew mocks and the poor guy sniffles, flustered to the maximum and you decide to give him a break.

“It’s fine; go wash your hands.”

“Y/N,” Andy halts in front of you. “Mister Wayne’s limo is parked outside and his chauffeur said he wants to talk to you.”

“He’s still here?!” you grab your stick and walk around the counter, heading outside the bakery.

“This way Miss,” the driver holds the limousine’s door opened until you get inside, slamming it shut as soon as you are next to your former boss. But something is off… the man doesn’t smell like Bruce’s cologne.

“Mister Wayne?...” you hesitantly mumble and the weird chuckle makes you cringe.

“Nope. Just rented a limo like his and waited until he left so I can take over. Luckily enough we saw an employee rushing in and he had no clue that the rich, pretty boy is not the one requesting a meeting.”

You panic and try to exit the car but it’s already moving and the door won’t open.

“Calm down, would you? If I wanted to hurt you I would have already done it.”

You exhale, nervously adjusting yourself in the comfortable seat.

“Who are you?” Y/N carefully stirs the conversation.

“A philanthropist interested in bestowing my fortune upon those in need,” the strange snickering comes to an end. “Here’s my business card,” your hands are placed on the person’s face without any warning. “Well, can you guess?”

“Umm…” you gulp, anxiously touching the skin. “Maybe mid-thirties…”

“Wow, that’s pretty good,” the man snorts, somewhat amused. “Go on.”

“Handsome…”

“Nailed it!!” he snarls and it gives you goosebumps.

“Green hair…”

His crazy silver grin diminishes a bit.

“Blue eyes,” and your eyes focusing on his astonish The Joker which is not an easy thing to accomplish.

“You…you can see!” he growls and your hands slide off his face. The King of Gotham had you on surveillance for months before he made contact today and nothing indicated the revelation he witnessed by pure chance.

“I was wondering if you‘ll show up,” your change in attitude baffles the usual emotionless King of Gotham. “Are you interested in money laundering throughout my charity?” you cold tone skips to the main topic. “Others have asked and no, I don’t do that; I don’t care about how much it would put back in my account. Dirty money has no place in my…”

“Says the perfect Angel lying to the world about her handicap,” The Joker sarcastically cuts you out.

“I’m not lying,” you mutter. “My vision comes and goes, it’s a neurological anomaly after the injury I sustained. I was warned that might happen and frankly I don’t have to announce it on TV or to my doctor when I’m blind and when I’m not. It’s easier to deal with it since at one point I might find myself in the blackness forever.”

“Interesting,“ The Joker huffs, crossing his legs. “I couldn’t care less about your sneaky ways; I’m not here to negotiate a deal. I’m here to get what I want. Money laundry will bring you more funds to do whatever the hell you do, help people and all that,” J flares his arms around, done with the charade.

“Yes, I help them and you kill them,” Y/N gives The Clown a mean glare. “Or beat them up for no reason,” you hint at the two teenagers he attacked since you actually saw him do it.

“Somebody gotta keep the balance,” he jokes about it like it’s some kind of funny topic.

“Mister Joker, I am here to help people and that’s it, “an apparent serene Y/N grumbles even if her heart is pounding out of her chest. “Can you please drop me off at the back entrance of my bakery? If I go missing or end up dead, people will notice. My disappearance or demise wouldn’t go unnoticed and you don’t need more unwanted attention, do you?” you play the best card you have because frankly you have zero aces in your sleeve.

The Joker sucks on his teeth, debating upon this dumfounding outcome that didn’t ruin his day; from time to time he loves a good challenge and the opportunity basically jumped at him so to speak. He gets easily bored and shit, this little project isn’t boring at all. Turned out to be quite interesting.

“Hey Frost!” The Joker shouts. “Let’s take McGillivray Street and return this lost Angel to her business. We don’t want a poor blind woman to get lost in this huge city; we’ll consider this our good deed for the year!”

“Of course sir,” the henchman switches lanes and you strive to remain composed because showing weakness could mean disaster while in the company of the unpredictable psychopath.

The limo takes a left and in a few seconds you reach your destination since Frost basically just slowly drove around the block. The fancy vehicle stops and you get out, preparing to bail when The Joker interrogates:

“Who are you really, hm?” J suspiciously squints his eyes.

You bent over to look at him, cautiously choosing your words:

“I’m the one that got away, Mister Joker. The only one.”

He puffs, signaling you to close the door.

“Good for you, sugar. We’ll keep in touch,” and he yanks the door out of your hand since he doesn’t have patience to wait for you to close it.

Oh my God, you think and reprise your stroll, sensing the concrete with the walking stick. What was that?! you shiver, just a few feet away from the back entrance of the pastry shop. How am I… but you can’t continue the argument since a van slams the breaks right by you, five guys quickly running out and pulling you inside.

“Did you see that boss?” Frost inquires, still waiting at the red light while watching the rearview mirror. “It was so fast nobody noticed.”

“It’s them,” The Joker sneers.

“Do we… … do anything?” Jonny throws the option out there for the heck of it.

“Do you have to fucking ask??!!” his boss shouts. “This is my goddamned town, not theirs! I decide who lives or dies, who gets kidnapped and who doesn’t. ME, not the Triple Star gang!!! I am sick of them interfering with my plans!”

“Call for reinforcements and discreetly follow?”

“No, tell the guys waiting to escort us on Andresen Avenue to intercept the van and follow it. We need a plan.”

“Yes sir,” Frost smirks, craving to take on another invigorating assignment since today was quite a dull day.

Back in the van, the men keeping you captive in between them didn’t articulate a single sentence yet. They have no clue you can see so they didn’t bother cover your head with a cloth. You know The King of Gotham is not present but you have to go on with it; what other choice do you have in this dangerous situation?

“Mister… Mister Joker?” you plead. “I’m sure we can…”

“The Joker?!” somebody laughs, finally talking and everyone snickers like it’s the best stand –up comedy act they ever heard. “No honey: this is the competition.” **************

Five days afterwards, 6pm

Everyone at the soup kitchen is eating in silence, the usual cheerful chit chatting absent from the premises: Y/N has been missing for five days, gone without a trace and despite all the efforts, her whereabouts are still unknown.

“Something bad happened,” Mike shakes his head, worried. “I can feel it,” he wipes his teary eyes.

“She wouldn’t just abandon everything and flee…” Clara whispers to her fellow table mates. “I’ve been homeless for a long time and this is the first place I found some real help, you know? Thanks to her I have a job interview next week,” the woman’s voice breaks. “Nobody would give me a chance and she put in a good word; I might have an opportunity to actually…” Clara blows her nose in a tissue, unable to finish her confession.

“We’re in the same boat,” George turns around from the nearby table and his eyes get big when he recognized who the man entering the establishment is. “Holy…”

The Joker is holding Y/N in his arms, both looking like they escaped a war: dusty, ripped clothes and visible bruises to match the unusual view seen by the 137 souls eating there for the moment. You are unconscious and a few people try to get up, startled.

“SIT DOWN!!!” The Joker screams, lifting you higher in his arms.

“Mister Joker, we gotta go!” Frost advises while keeping the door opened; the other goons temporarily blocked the traffic at The Clown’s orders. A few onlookers on the street are already dialing 911 and J is aware he can’t linger, but he won’t ignore an outburst either:

“Tell everyone The Devil brought your Angel back !! ME, not The Batman!!!” the insane green haired man barks. “Not all heroes wear capes, huh?!” he addresses everyone as he places you on an empty bench and hurries outside, taking one last glance behind to see a weary Y/N barely opening her eyes that cannot focus.

And The Joker knows that after the events he whiteness too, The Angel of Gotham is in complete darkness again.