#world liberty tv fashion TV

[worldlibertytv]

Miss Universe 2023 R'Bonney Gabriel Giving a shout out to all Muslims Worldwide Wishing Them a Happy Eid Celebration, I also Like to wish all Friends and family happy Eid. See More in our World Liberty TV Fashion Channels @ https://www.worldlibertytv.org/category/videos/fashion-reviews/

[salvadorbonaparte]

2024 in Films - Part III

I watched a lot of stuff again, some even for grad school.

August

Lola Rennt (1998) - banger soundtrack and editing

Vertigo (1958) - the most boring of the Hitchcock films I've seen so far

A League of Their Own (1992) - makes me want to watch baseball

White Men Can't Jump (1992) - did not expect jeopardy to be so important in this film, also loved the fashion

The Fall Guy (2024) - my mum loves the original series so we had to watch this and I had an amazing time

Blinded by the Light (2019) - the dialogue is strange at times but a banger soundtrack (obviously) and some amazing editing, very uplifting and I watched this on my flight to the US btw

Good Will Hunting (1997) - I watched this during my first week in Massachusetts before starting grad school here

Alien3 (1992) - this film says so much about gender, actually

Deaf Smith & Johnny Ears (1973) - taking lots of liberties with Texan history and also surprising homoerotic subtext

September

Causeway (2022) - a film that I originally only found meh but then kept thinking about all the time

Nosferatu the Vampyre (1979) - equally blood libel as the og with an added bonus of cycle of violence, might write an essay about this

Sleepaway Camp (1983) - another horror film that says so much about gender and I could write an entire essay about it

My Best Fiend (1999) - Werner Herzog must be studied under a microscope

We're All Going to the World's Fair (2021) - not as good as I saw the tv glow imo but asking some important questions about online communities and reality

Jacob the Liar (1974) - the film felt a little too empty but I also don't want to say something negative because I am still angry about a bad review I saw

Chris Grace: As Scarlett Johansson (2024) - absolutely transformed the way I think about stand up comedy

All Quiet on the Western Front (1930) - the old lie dulce et decorum est pro patria mori

The Shock (1923) - as ableist and racist as you expect from the 20s but with a great performance from Lon Chaney

Trap (2024) - I actually really enjoyed this, even though I was waiting for an even crazier plot twist

Don't Think I've Forgotten: Cambodia's Lost Rock and Roll (2014) - a documentary that nearly made me cry

Hudson Hawk (1991) - technically a rewatch but I need to speak my truth and it's that I like this film

All Quiet on the Western Front (2022) - I have so many issues that this would take an entire post or even conference paper

The Russians Are Coming! The Russians are Coming! (1966) - had me in stitches half the time, I love a good cold war comedy

The Bone Collector (1999) - spooky!

Monkey Shines (1988) - also horror and gender but also silly

Death in Venice (1971) - boring :/

October

UPSIDEdown (2013) - I watched this one twice, once with the director, also had lunch and coffee with him, I had an issue at first with how child protection service is portrayed but that part is apparently real, also he cast a neurodivergent kid, which is awesome

The Master (2012) - I love when men are also poorly trained attack dogs, also can you imagine sending that guy to the cult from Midsommar? Also still haunted by Philip Seymour Hoffman

Like Stars on Earth (2007) - neurodivergent kids need neurodivergent role models!!!

The Lost Honor of Katharina Blum (1975) - I have so much to say about this tbh

Farewell Disco (1990) - at first I found this kinda boring but then I was also enchanted by the inclusion of Sorbian culture

The Kangaroo Conspiracy (2022) - just read the books

November (so far)

Srikanth (2024) - fairly standard biopic, meanders a bit but solid soundtrack and performance

Innocent Witness (2019) - this one impressed me so much I recommended it to multiple people, also I'm an autistic person who is besties with my lawyer so bonus points for that, I could talk a lot about this too

Hunt (2022) - Probably less confusing if you know more about Korean history, fun plot twist and imo some homoerotic tension

Scarlett Innocence (2014) - tbh I didn't even watch the whole thing because I don't go for erotic thrillers, I just watched the scenes where Jung Woo Sung is a poor little meow meow

Inseperable Bros (2019) - some dialogue was a bit awkward but that might have been the translation, I like that this was about interabled platonic relationships

Remember You (2016) - the first plot twist is predictable as hell but the second one hit me in the face like a brick

The Childe (2023) - Kim Seon-ho has the range (creepy and babygirl) (covered in blood and coughing up blood)

The Good The Bad The Weird (2008) - not only the best western I've ever seen but also one of the best films I've seen this year at all

Sympathy for Mr Vengeance (2002) - very unsatisfying, but in a good way

[ro-is-struggling]

New Love || Bucky Barnes x Reader

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader, past Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Summary: after a long day at work all you want to do is curl up on the couch with Bucky and forget about the existence of the outside world. But things get complicated when the past catches up with you, knocking on your door and asking for your help. 

Warnings: mentions of the reader being a nurse, jealousy, talks of insecurities, mentions of blood, reader being afraid to love again, angst with a happy ending

English is not my first language

Word count: 6600

Notes: this is a continuation of You Ruined Me and Lose Myself but I think you can read it as a stand alone, you just have to know that reader and Matt used to date but broke up because he was still I'm love with Elektra and that now she's dating Bucky

You should have known that today was not your day. You had one of the longest and most stressful shifts at the hospital. Two of your coworkers had called in sick and another had started maternity leave which meant you had to cover the work of three nurses plus your usual work. You had to stay and work overtime which ruined your dinner plans with Bucky. Your relationship was still relatively new and you were excited for every date as if it was your first. You loved spending time with him at your apartment or his, but you loved it even more when you went on dates because you got to see a different side of Bucky. He would turn into a complete romantic, giving you flowers and chocolates, opening doors for you and pulling up your chair and taking you to nice places. It was a little old-fashioned, but in a lovely, charming way. 

When you called him to cancel your plans, Bucky insisted on seeing you anyway. You made it clear to him that you would be home late, but he said it would be no problem. He assured you that he would be waiting for you with dinner ready and a movie to watch while you snuggled up on the couch so you could relax and forget the stress of the day. You let out a chuckle and thanked him, unable to believe you had found such a wonderful man after all. Bucky seemed to be someone ripped straight out of your dreams, your very own romance novel protagonist written by a woman, and you felt like the luckiest person in the world when you were together. 

When you got home Bucky was waiting for you just as he had promised. He used the extra key you had given him in case of emergencies to get in while you were gone and took the liberty of preparing dinner so that you didn't have to do anything but sit and relax when you arrived. You were so tired that you almost cried when you saw the table ready, the delicious smell of freshly cooked food inviting you to sit down. You ran into Bucky's arms, mumbling words of gratitude as you hid in the warmth of his body.

You ate while you told him about some of the things that had happened to you during the day, venting the frustration you felt building up in your shoulders with every word that came out of your mouth. Once you finished, Bucky took charge of clearing the table, refusing to accept your help. He sent you to sit on the couch in the living room and asked you to get everything ready to watch the movie —which was the next one on the list you had made together of all the movies and TV shows you considered an insult that he didn't know about. He joined you a few minutes later, wrapping his arms around your body and pulling you close to him as you pressed play. You nestled your head on his chest, the musky scent of his perfume hitting your nostrils and washing away the remaining stress in your system. You felt as if a great weight had been lifted from your shoulders, light and relaxed as you lost yourself in Bucky's body heat. 

But you should have known that the horrible day you'd had could never end on such a positive note. You should have known that things would only get worse. 

You were barely thirty minutes into the movie when you began to hear strange sounds. Fearing it was some kind of weird bug that had somehow found its way into your apartment, you paused the movie to listen more carefully. It was silent for a moment. And then a knock on the glass made you turn your head toward the balcony door. Your eyes widened in surprise upon discovering the figure of a badly wounded man leaning against the glass door.

"Matt?"

It was the first time you had seen him since that rainy night when he had once again broken your heart without even realizing it. However, you were unable to feel anything but concern when you saw the state he was in. His beaten and bloodied body had collapsed on the balcony floor. You ran to him, kneeling beside him so that you could examine his wounds closely. He had cuts and bruises on every visible part of his body. When you touched his abdomen looking for serious wounds he let out a grunt of pain. Your fingers made contact with a thick, sticky liquid and it was then that you noticed the pool of blood that had formed on the floor. 

"This is Matt?" the voice of Bucky echoed behind you. The comment rolled off his lips with a harsher tone than he expected, but luckily you didn't mention anything about it. He remained in the doorframe, watching you attend to Matt with a mixture of surprise and confusion at the circumstances in which he finally met the man he had heard so much about.

"Help me get him inside" you said without even looking up to meet his eyes. 

As Bucky settled Matt on the couch you ran off in search of your first aid kit and a couple of clean cloths to use to stop the bleeding. Kneeling by Matt's side once again, you used a pair of scissors to cut off the shirt he was wearing so you could tend to his wounds more easily. Small cuts and bruises adorned his torso, but the worst injury was the stab wound on the right side of his abdomen. Luckily it didn't seem to be deep enough to have damaged any vital organs, but it was bleeding pretty badly and from Matt's pale and weak appearance you guessed that you didn't have much time to waste. 

Struggling to remain calm, you asked Bucky to put pressure on the wound while you checked Matt's vital signs. His breathing was labored and his heartbeat was weak. He had definitely lost a lot of blood, but you were confident that everything would be okay if you could stop the bleeding soon. So you got to work without wasting another second. While Bucky put pressure on the wound, you concentrated on the minor cuts, cleaning and bandaging each one to make sure they didn't get infected. And as you worked, your mind kept imagining the situation that led Matt to such a state, trying to guess what it was that he was working on now. He had many enemies, some too powerful for it to be a fair fight. You just hoped that none of them were the ones who caused his injuries.

When the bleeding finally stopped you relieved Bucky of his duties so you could start cleaning and closing the wound. Matt had fallen unconscious within a second of being placed on the couch, his body succumbing to the blood loss. But at least that made your job easier, you could disinfect and stitch his cuts without having to deal with his body twitching in pain. 

At no time did you stop to consider how weird the situation you were in was. You were too worried about Matt's health to realize that you were kneeling next to your ex-boyfriend, treating his wounds with extreme care under the watchful eye of your current boyfriend. Your hands were working on Matt's body with great experience not only from your profession but also from the many times you had tended to his wounds in the past. It was amazing to think how despite all that had happened between you, all the pain he had caused you, you still felt the same fear and concern you felt in those days when you were still together. 

"C'mon, Matt. Stay with me, please" you murmured without realizing it, your hand gently caressing his face as you felt a familiar knot forming in the pit of your stomach.

Bucky watched the scene from the door frame not knowing what to do. He understood that Matt was in a delicate condition and that it was perfectly normal for you to be worried about him. You were the kindest and most caring person he had ever met and you two had a pretty intense history so Bucky expected you to react that way, especially considering Matt's condition. But at the same time it was that same history that you shared that worried him so much. Bucky knew how much you had loved Matt and how much it had taken you to get over him so naturally he felt upset to see you so close to your ex-boyfriend. 

Maybe it was his insecurities talking, but there was something about the way you looked at Matt that gave him a bad feeling. Your eyes were full of concern as your hands caressed his face with such care, such affection, that it made Bucky wonder if you were really over him. He was now stable, all his wounds had been disinfected and bandaged, yet you were still sitting beside him holding his hand as you murmured words of encouragement in his ear. 

Bucky's blood boiled with jealousy. A lump formed in his throat that tightened with every word he heard leave your lips. Cursing to his enhanced hearing, he disappeared into the kitchen before he ended up doing something he would regret when he came back to his senses. He thought about going home, but if there was one thing he hated more than staying there to witness the scene, it was the thought of leaving you alone with Matt. So he concentrated on washing the dinner dishes, struggling to think about anything other than the way his girlfriend —the most wonderful woman he'd ever met— seemed to still have feelings for her ex-boyfriend.

It wasn't fair. Things were going great between the two of you. Sure, your relationship was fairly new and you were still figuring things out, but you had a great time together and there wasn't a moment of the day when you weren't communicating, talking in person, calling or texting. He had even learned to make video calls to see you for even five minutes on days when your schedules didn't match. That was how much you needed each other, how much you enjoyed each other's company. 

Bucky had begun to feel more confident recently. The voice of insecurity in his mind had been silenced by the affection you showed him and how well your relationship was working. Matt had no right to suddenly show up and tear down all his confidence in a heartbeat. Bucky knew full well that he was extremely lucky to have you by his side. He knew he probably didn't deserve you, but for a moment he had come to believe that you had a future together. And now all of his dreams and fantasies were threatened by the presence of Matt, a man he had once heard you describe as the love of your life. And even though things between you were going well, he wasn't sure he could compete with that. 

Bucky was so deep in thought that he didn't hear you coming into the kitchen. So when he felt the weight of a hand resting on his arm he startled, spattering drops of water in all directions. 

"I'm sorry, I didn't hear you come in" he apologized for splashing you. 

"It's fine" you replied in a soft tone, reaching out to turn off the faucet, indicating to Bucky that you wanted his attention. He got the message immediately and quickly wiped his hands on the rag resting next to the dishes before turning around so he could look you in the eyes. 

"How's Matt?" he asked to fill the silence that had formed between you.

"He's stable, for now at least. I think he has a few broken ribs but there's nothing I can do to help him with that now."

"Shouldn't we take him to a hospital?"

"Matt doesn't like hospitals. It's best not to argue with him about it, trust me."

An awkward silence formed between you that took you by surprise. You didn't fall into awkward silences. Well, maybe at the beginning of your friendship when Bucky had not yet broken out of his shell, but it had been a long time since you found yourselves in this kind of awkward situation. You were always comfortable and relaxed around each other. Silences happened, but not like this, not with that strange tension in the air. 

You suddenly felt the need to excuse Matt's presence, to make it clear to Bucky that the fact that you had helped him meant nothing. It was ridiculous, Matt had surprised you with his presence and you were pretty sure Bucky understood that your concern was due to the critical state he was in. You trusted him to know that you had eyes for no one else and that Matt was nothing more than a sad memory of something that could not be. Although the tension in the air made you doubt.

"Listen, I wanted to thank you for helping me with Matt," you said with some hesitation, clearing your throat to make sure the words left your lips. "And I wanted to apologize for ruining the night. You were so sweet and caring with everything you did tonight and we couldn't even finish the movie."

"Don't worry about it, doll" Bucky brushed it off. The use of the affectionate nickname made you smile. You loved it when he called you that, it made you feel special. "Matt needed your help. We can finish the movie another day, this was more important."

"You're important too" you were quick to say, a subtle way of reminding him that he was much more important to you than Matt in case he thought otherwise. "I love spending time with you and what you did tonight was really sweet. Our dates are the most important part of my days. And the most fun" you added, reaching out to caress his cheek. Bucky leaned into your touch, letting the warmth of your skin and the love in your words ease the pain in his heart.

"They're the most important part of my days too" he said, and he wasn't lying. The happiest moments of his days were the ones he shared with you. And when you were apart, he looked forward to your reunion. Your company was what kept him grounded, your laughter, a sweet melody that brightened his days every time he heard it. It had been a long time since he had felt a love as intense, as pure, as the one he felt for you. And honestly that scared him a little. You held an immense amount of power over him by holding his heart in your hands and it scared him to think what would become of him if you decided to hurt him. 

Taking Bucky's face in your hands, you leaned in to bring your lips together in a quick but gentle kiss that you hoped would convey what you felt. When you parted, Bucky pressed his forehead against yours, your noses brushing as you gazed into each other's eyes. He admired you in silence, trying to convince himself that everything was fine and that he had nothing to worry about. He saw nothing but love staring back at him, your eyes shining with that special sparkle he loved so much. But still the voice of insecurity inside him made him doubt. 

Bucky wanted to tell you how he felt. He wanted to tell you that he loved you like he had never loved anyone in his life. He wanted to tell you that he was jealous of Matt and that he was afraid of losing you. He was afraid that one day you would realize the big mistake you had made by agreeing to go out with him. He was afraid to hear you say that you were still in love with Matt. He was afraid you would become a memory, a stranger whose laughter he would recognize in a crowd of people. Bucky loved you too much and couldn't bear the thought of losing you. 

He opened his mouth to speak but the words got caught in his throat. And just like that the moment was broken, interrupted by Matt's grunts of pain that warned them that he had regained consciousness. You gave Bucky an apologetic smile, giving him a quick peck on the lips before rushing into the living room to examine Matt. You didn't want to leave him, but you couldn't leave Matt alone either. You just hoped Bucky would understand, that somehow he knew he was the only true owner of your heart.

"For fucks sake, Matt! Lay down, you need to rest" you scolded him as soon as you saw him trying to get up from the couch. He tried to resist you when you tried to force him to lie down, but he was so weak that he wasn't able to put up a fight. "How did you end up like this? I thought you had a suit that protected you."

"I do have one, it's just getting fixed" Matt said with a wince as you checked his wounds to make sure he hadn't opened any stitches.

"You mean you've been running around Hell's Kitchen without any protection all this time?" You spoke with horror in your voice, imagining the kinds of dangers he had been facing without a suit to keep him safe. If even with one he sometimes came home beaten and bleeding you didn't even want to think about how much worse the situation had gotten now that he didn't have one. "Jesus Christ, Matt! Why didn't you come here before?"

"After everything that happened between us I wasn't sure if you would open the door for me."

When you heard Matt's words, you put aside everything you were doing to look at him with a serious expression in your eyes. Sure, you hadn't ended things in the best way. He had made you suffer and yes, for a while you had held a grudge. But that didn't mean you wanted him dead or that you enjoyed his pain. Not even on your worst days would you have thought to slam the door in his face if he came to you for help. You just weren't that kind of person.

"Listen, Matt, I know our relationship didn't end well but I would never refuse to help you with something like this" you said and he was able to hear the honesty in your voice. "I'd rather deal with the tension in the air than have you running around the city wounded and bleeding. You could have died!"

A silence formed as Matt processed your words. You were too good and he definitely didn't deserve you. After everything he had done to you and all the pain he had caused you, you still wanted to help him. Matt felt like an idiot, like the biggest son of a bitch on the planet as your delicate fingers took care of fixing one of the bandages on his chest that had come undone. You were worried about him, inspecting his wounds carefully as you had done so many times in the past. You cared about him despite everything he had done to you.

"I'm sorry" Matt murmured in a calm, sincere voice, resting his hand over yours on his chest. "I'm sorry for everything... for hurting you, for the way I handled our relationship and for the way it ended. You didn't deserve any of that... not a single day goes by without me wishing our story had ended differently.”

You fell silent, taken aback by Matt's words. You had spent many nights imagining this very situation. It was your comfort in your worst moments, fantasizing that he would show up to apologize for how he had treated you. You relieved your frustrations by imagining slamming the door in his face or describing in detail how broken you felt inside so that he would understand the pain he had caused you. But now that it was finally happening you didn't know how to respond. The speeches you had recited over and over in your fantasies no longer matched how you felt. 

And that's how you realized that the wounds in your heart had healed, maybe not completely but enough so that you no longer held a grudge against Matt.

"I'm sorry too" you answered at last and you were being completely honest. You were terribly sorry for the way your relationship had ended, but that was all. You no longer felt hatred or crushing anguish, just mild sorrow about how bad your last moments together as a couple were. It saddened you because you knew that things between you could have been very different, but that was all. 

The sound of Bucky clearing his throat brought you out of your thoughts. As you looked up you met his figure standing tall in the door frame. His eyes were glued to your hands resting on Matt's chest, trapped under his own hands.

"I'm going home" Bucky declared before disappearing down the hallway to the front door, not giving you time to reply before he vanished from your sight.

"Bucky, wait!" you called after him, chasing him to prevent him from leaving without talking to you first. You wanted to make sure he knew nothing was going on between you and Matt, to tell him that your heart belonged to him and no one else. But you didn't know how to express yourself without sounding too intense, so when you caught up with him–-with one foot already out of your apartment—all you could say was, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, doll, I'm fine" he assured you, but you didn't believe him. He looked tense, his demeanor completely different than it had been a couple of hours earlier as you ate dinner and chatted about your day.

"Are you sure?" you insisted, looking at him with your big eyes full of doubt.

"Yes, I'm sure." Bucky sighed. "I'm just tired, doll, and you're very busy with Matt here so I'm just gonna go home and get some sleep. We'll talk tomorrow, okay?" You knew that wasn't true, he was clearly upset by Matt's presence there, but you decided not to press him about it. You figured you'd have plenty of time to talk once you were alone, so you nodded your head in agreement. 

You gave him a quick kiss and wished him goodnight before letting him go, closing the door to your apartment as you cursed in your mind. It was all too good to be true. Your relationship with Bucky was going too well so of course something had to happen and mess it up. That was just your luck.

"I'm sorry if I caused any problems with your boyfriend. I didn't know where else to go" Matt spoke from the couch, sensing better than anyone the tension his presence had created between the couple. "He doesn't seem to like me that much so I assume you told him about me."

"It's fine, we just started dating. I'm sure he'll understand. And if he doesn't... Well, he's not the only guy out there. I'll be fine" you said, plopping down on the arm of the couch at Matt's feet. It was a complete lie. You were convinced that Bucky was the last decent man left in the city and losing him would devastate you, but you hoped Matt was too injured to detect your heartbeat. 

"Oh c'mon, Y/N! We both know that's a lie. You really like this guy. I recognize the symptoms, you know.... Your body temperature rises when he's close to you, your heart beats faster when he calls your name... Just like it used to happen when we were dating."

The melancholic tone in Matt's voice and his sad words made you think of the happy days you had shared with him. You remembered the tingle that used to awaken inside you at the mere touch of your skin against his or the way your heart would melt at the sight of his smile. You thought of the way his kisses used to make your knees weak and the sense of calm and security that waking up next to him gave you. Those were all things that until recently you thought you would never experience again. You used to think that after Matt you would never be able to fall in love with someone else, either because of the fear of being hurt again or because you thought you would never be able to get over him. But now hearing him say those things about the way your body reacted to Bucky made you realize that wasn't true. You already knew that you liked Bucky, but you had never taken the time to consider how deep your feelings for him were until this moment.

"I really thought you were the only man for me" you broke the silence, speaking as you stared off into the distance while remembering those dark moments in your past. "When we broke up I thought I'd never be able to fall in love again. This thing I have with Bucky feels... weird, like it's something that shouldn't have happened. It's like I've found a way to trick the universe into giving me a second chance. The problem is, I'm not sure I'm ready to start over. I don't know if I can give myself completely to someone again." You confessed letting out a frustrated sigh, not even considering how strange and probably inappropriate it was that you were opening up like that to your ex-boyfriend.

You loved Bucky and trusted him, but still a small part of you was afraid. You'd had a hard time getting back on your feet after Matt and you weren't sure you were strong enough to do it again if things with Bucky ended badly. 

"I was never the only man for you, Y/N. I'm not even sure I was one of the valid candidates" Matt muttered, letting out a sour laugh. "I was the one who fooled the universe the moment you agreed to go out with me. You were always too good for me. What we had was an illusion, a product of my selfishness."

"No, Matt-"

"It was," he interrupted you before you could convince him otherwise. "It was. I thought I could get on your level, make things work between us, but I was only lying to myself and I ended up hurting you. So please don't close yourself off from love and happiness because of me. Our relationship was never supposed to happen so don't use it as an example for anything."

You didn't know what to answer so you remained silent, reflecting on Matt's words. You didn't agree with him when he referred to himself as unworthy of your love, and even less so when he claimed that your relationship had been a mistake. The love you had felt for him was one of the most intense emotions you had ever experienced in your life up to that point. And even though your breakup had hurt you just as intensely, you didn't regret it at all. Your story was a sad one because you were two compatible people who had been unlucky enough to meet at the wrong time. In the end when it all fell apart it was because Matt was still in love with his ex-girlfriend, not because he was unworthy of your love or anything like that. That was once again a product of Matt's insecurities, which more often than not took over his mind and acted on his behalf. That was something he and Bucky had in common. 

Matt's words kept running through your head even after you retired to your room to let him rest. You laid awake for a while, tossing and turning in bed as you analyzed your situation. You had feelings for Bucky, feelings that only grew with each passing day, and that was something that wasn't going to change. You were already head over heels in love with him. Your fearful mind refused to accept it, but there was no denying the way your heart raced when he was near you. So what was it that made you so scared? Why did you stop yourself every time you were about to confess just how deep your love for him was? You were already screwed so it really didn't make sense to suppress your feelings. Your heart already belonged to Bucky so if things didn't work out between the two of you, you would end up devastated anyway whether you accepted your feelings or not. So the real question you should be asking yourself was, what were you waiting for to do something about it? You were already lost and if you were going to fall you should at least do it right and enjoy the ride down as much as possible.

A wave of confidence suddenly came over you, giving you the courage to get out of bed and leave your apartment in search of Bucky. It didn't matter that it was almost two in the morning or the fact that you were wearing unflattering printed pajamas. All you cared about was communicating your epiphany to Bucky, finally saying out loud what you had been feeling for a long time but had been too afraid to admit.

When you arrived at his door you knocked gently on the wood. You knew he would hear the noise anyway because the super soldier serum coursing through his veins had sharpened his senses. The knocking echoed down the hallway, cutting through the deep silence that filled the stillness of the night. For a moment you thought Bucky was already asleep and wouldn't get up to greet you, but then you heard movement behind the door—a couple of footsteps, creaking wood, a muffled murmur. And then the door opened and the tall, imposing figure of Bucky rose in front of you.

"What are you doing here, doll? Is everything alright?" he asked in a hoarse voice. He looked tired, his hair was messy as if he had just woken up but he didn't have the characteristic expression of having just woken up. He looked at you with relief in his eyes as if all this time he had been waiting for you to show up at his door. You wondered then if maybe he too had spent the night tossing and turning in bed while thinking about your future together.

"I love you" you blurted out without any warning or explanation. You knew that if you struggled to eloquently express your feelings and the thinking path that had led you to that moment you would end up distracting yourself or confusing things. And at this moment you needed to be as clear and direct as possible, so you skipped the unnecessary introductions.

"What?" muttered Bucky with a mix of surprise and confusion in his voice. It wasn't that he hadn't heard you, he had, but he wanted to make sure he had heard you correctly and that it wasn't all the product of some delusion in his brain.

"I love you" you repeated. "I have for a while now, but I was afraid of saying it out loud because, well, I guess it's because that makes it real and you know my history.... Not that I think that you're gonna hurt me like Matt or something, I know you are two different guys with different personalities and all" you rambled. You were nervous and when you got like that you started rambling. It was as if your mouth worked faster than your brain, uttering word after word without having a chance to think about what you were saying until it was too late. 

Luckily for you, Bucky already knew you. He had heard your nervous ramblings on several occasions and honestly he found them adorable. So while you talked without stopping to breathe he just smiled. He smiled because you were the most adorable woman on the planet. He smiled because despite what his insecurities told him, you loved him and didn't seem to want to go anywhere. He smiled because he loved you too and had spent the last few weeks biting his tongue to avoid blurting it out at the most inconvenient times, afraid that it would scare you away from him. 

"Doll," Bucky interrupted you, placing one of his hands on your cheek to force you to look at him. You immediately fell silent as you felt his touch on your skin, losing yourself in the deep ocean of his eyes. Heat rose to your cheeks as you finally realized you were wandering, though the smile on Bucky's face helped ease your embarrassment. "I love you too."

And with those simple four words he was able to melt away all the fear that was spinning in your head, replacing it with a warm and fuzzy feeling that you could only describe as pure happiness coursing through your veins. 

Without another word Bucky stepped forward and closed the distance that separated you, joining your lips in a kiss. Fireworks exploded inside you, multicolored sparkles flashing behind your eyes as Bucky wrapped his arms around you, pressing your body against his bare chest. He was kissing you with the same fervor as always, his lips moving expertly in perfect sync with yours, but somehow it felt different. And it was because it was the first kiss you shared without pressure or doubt, fear or insecurity. There were no questions about what the other felt going around in your heads or doubts about the future of your relationship. You both knew now what the other was feeling. You both knew that you were just as madly in love and that you were willing to do whatever it took to make your relationship work. It was as if a weight had been lifted from your shoulders, freeing you from the chains of fear and insecurity and giving you a sense of confidence and security that was reflected in the way your lips moved.

Soon the kiss that began soft and tender turned passionate and desperate. Your hands explored Bucky's bare chest as you clung to his lips. He used his super soldier strength to lift you up, taking you in his arms unexpectedly and forcing you to entwine your legs around his waist. You didn't break the kiss at any point, your lips caressing each other desperately as Bucky walked blindly into his apartment, kicking the door shut. You clung to his broad shoulders for support as he walked to the living room, dropping onto the couch with you on his lap. You let out a squeak of surprise at the impact followed by a laugh that vibrated against his lips.

Bucky smiled against the kiss, but even that wasn't enough to separate you. On the contrary, you took advantage of the new position to deepen the kiss, letting your curious hands explore every inch of exposed skin you came across. It was as if you were physically incapable of pulling away from each other. You had been in that position several times since you had started dating—your movie nights didn't always end when the credits rolled—, but never before had you felt that way. You were desperate to physically prove that your words were real, to express with your bodies how deep your love truly was.

You used your advantageous position on Bucky's lap to dominate the situation. You buried your fingers in his long chestnut hair, intertwining your fingers in the strands as you caught his lower lip between your teeth and nibbled the sensitive skin gently. He let out a deep moan that awakened a tingle inside you. Tightening your grip on his hair, you tilted his head back to expose his neck. He didn't protest, moving his head to the side to give you better access to his soft spots. You smiled at his predisposition and moved your wet kisses down his jaw to his neck. You already knew his sensitive spots very well so you wasted no time and attacked the soft skin under his ear with your lips. Bucky's hands tightened their grip on your waist, trying to control his urges as you nibbled and sucked on the sensitive skin of his neck. 

You continued your torturous path of wet kisses down his neck to his collarbone, gently biting the skin before caressing it with your tongue and sucking to relieve the burning. Without realizing it you moved your kisses to his left shoulder, delicately caressing with your lips the scars that adorned the skin that merged with the metal. You didn't think much of it, you were just showing your love in a physical way to your boyfriend. But Bucky tensed under your touch and carefully pulled you off his body, placing his hand under your chin so you could look into his eyes.

"Are you sure about this?" He asked with caution. Feeling your lips on his scars had reminded him how fucked up he was and how bad it was to drag you down with him. "I'm a mess, doll. I'm broken in ways you can't even imagine and I don't know if I can be fixed." His voice cut off a little as he spoke, his eyes glistening with the tears he was trying so hard to hold back. Your heart broke into pieces as you saw the pain reflected in the blue of his eyes and you swore at that moment that you would do everything in your power to erase it from his gaze forever.

You placed your hand on his cheek, your thumb caressing the soft skin of his face as a small smile formed on your lips. Bucky leaned over your hand, enjoying the warmth of your skin against his. You were looking at him with pure adoration in your eyes, something that made his heart race and at the same time made him want to close his eyes. You had never looked at him that way before so he was not used to the attention. He felt self-conscious under the intensity of your gaze and wanted to escape from it, yet at the same time it made his heart pound with joy as a warm feeling filled him completely.

"Who isn't a little broken inside these days?" you replied to his doubts before leaning in and bringing your lips together again in a kiss.

There was a lot of truth behind your words. Humanity was full of people broken inside. Some were in worse condition than others. Some had more tragic stories than others. But they all had some kind of damage. That didn't mean they were any less deserving of love. On the contrary, they deserved as much as everyone else to find someone to trust, someone to lean on. They deserved to have someone by their side willing to listen to their pain and help them through it. And you were willing to be that someone for Bucky, just as he was willing to be that someone for you.

"I'm just saying" Bucky spoke as you parted, a bright smile plastered on his face. "Because I don't think I can ever let you go."

"I'm counting on it."

[servants-hall]

‘The Gilded Age’ Season 2 Behind the Scenes: How Fashion Defines Each Character (PHOTOS)

by Kelli Boyle

Julian Fellowes, the creator of Downton Abbey (2011-2016) [mod note: on PBS in the US], set that upstairs-downstairs series at a palatial British estate on the eve of World War I. He moved his newest costume drama Stateside to the streets of New York City. Set in the late 1800s, The Gilded Age, which has its second-season premiere on Sunday, October 29 on HBO (streaming on Max), pits the new money of railroad barons against the old money of New York society. The powerful fight for control of the city and use their wealth to measure social success. And dressing for success was its own full-time occupation.

When researching women’s fashion in 1800s New York, the show’s costume designer Kasia Walicka-Maimone saw one thing clearly: “Their life was a catwalk. There was this enormous excitement” when the ladies trekked the bustling, dusty streets of Manhattan. Her job was to recreate that excitement for contemporary viewers of The Gilded Age.

Fashion as a Sign of Status

Who’s doing all this promenading? Marian Brook (Louisa Jacobson) arrived in NYC with no money and was taken in by her aunts Ada (Cynthia Nixon) and Agnes (Christine Baranski), both living off an inheritance. Then the newly affluent Russells—headed by railroad baron George (Morgan Spector) and wife Bertha (Carrie Coon), who is determined to break into polite society—moved in across the street.

Ada Brook (Cynthia Nixon) and Agnes van Rhijn (Christine Baranski) head to church on Easter morning in ‘The Gilded Age’ Season 2 premiere. Niece Marian Brook (Louisa Jacobson) follows close behind (Credit: Barbara Nitke/HBO)

The frill thrills continue in Season 2, especially in a pivotal garden party scene (pictured below) that TV Insider observed being filmed in September 2022 at New York’s lavish Old Westbury Gardens estate. (Westbury House was previously home to an heir of the Phipps family, real-life Gilded Age figures whose patriarch made his fortune alongside Andrew Carnegie at his steel company.) On set was Fellowes, whose smart black suit and tie were the only dark hues around.

Gladys Russell (Taissa Farmiga), George Russell (Morgan Spector), and Bertha Russell (Carrie Coon) step out for Easter mass in ‘The Gilded Age’ Season 2 premiere (Credit: Barbara Nitke/HBO)

Historically Accurate Costumes

It’s a testament to the wardrobe department that the stunning colors of the sprawling grounds nearly pale in comparison to the vibrancy of the women’s period garb. Despite the sepia-toned images in history books, Walicka-Maimone says, those bright tints are decidedly historically accurate. She has a library of more than 35,000 reference images to prove it.

“It’s shocking to our modern eye to see the explosion of color from that period,” she said. Production designer Bob Shaw (who won an Emmy for his work on Gilded Age) was present to share his creative process, which, just as Walicka-Maimone described of her own work, is “deeply steeped in history.”

Nicole Brydon Bloom joins the cast for Season 2, pictured here at the garden party with Blake Ritson’s Oscar van Rhijn (Credit: Barbara Nitke/HBO)

He does note that, when deciding between “what is correct and what feels correct,” the latter always wins. Creative liberties are taken to “build [character] histories into the costumes,” Walicka-Maimone added.

A Garden Party to Remember

Take Brit newcomers Dashiell Montgomery (David Furr) and his daughter, Frances (Matilda Lawler), for example. Nephew by marriage to Baranski’s Agnes, Dashiell requires more “toned-down” attire suitable for social outings, which contrasts with Season 1’s primarily business and formal menswear.

Aurora Fane (Kelli O’Hara) and husband Charles Fane (Ward Horton) attend the garden party in ‘The Gilded Age’ Season 2 (Credit: Barbara Nitke/HBO)

Dashiell must escort Frances through society in his late wife’s absence. One consideration for Walicka-Maimone: “This is a girl who doesn’t have a mother, so there’s probably extra care from all the other family members in [dressing her],” she said.

Meanwhile, Marian, who Jacobson said is “shining this season and sees herself in [younger] Frances,” will be more open to a strategic marriage. Marian’s “not necessarily cynical” after being jilted by Tom Raikes (Thomas Cocquerel) in last season’s finale, the actress continued, but the heartbreak gives her a “spice and edge.”

Don’t count out the possibility of a romance with Larry Russell (Harry Richardson), son of the railroad titan, which was teased last year. Jacobson shared: “They will definitely continue to deepen their friendship.” Old money and new money unite!

[chiefmcclane]

Fallout TV show eschews video game lore but does it in a way that is clearly respectful and inspired by the video game lore. It's neat, like how comic books play around with variations of characters and timelines to establish situations. Like a big "What If?"

Compare this to other video game adaptations (*cough Halo cough*) and it's clear that the writers not only understood the lore but also felt like they could take the creative liberty to reinterpret it. I approve.

TL;DR Fallout TV show good. Spoiler below the cut.

The narrative of "War Never Changes" being relayed in a "time is a flat circle" fashion was cool, where the seemingly contradictory statements made by characters throughout the earlier episodes come to light as the truth, and the truth changes Lucy and her perception of the world (just as every interaction in the Wasteland had).

Also bold of them to endearingly embrace the "Vault-Tec started the Great War" fan theory, major kudos for painting the picture vibrantly and clearly.

[danyaselmar]

Horror Bang 2023

A gift for @duskwulfs as part of the horror bang exchange 2023 run by @jillvalentinesday

AN: my dear, it was a pleasure to write for your wonderful oc Genesis and I really hope I did her justice. I took the liberty to incorporate your starter piece and build up on it.

Be Kind, Rewind

“...Presley, what’s the ten day weather forecast looking like?”

Genesis hadn’t been paying attention to the Radio Shack TV until she heard her sister’s name. She turned the dial up and looked into the thirteen inch screen as if God himself was on camera. Presley’s long blonde hair was pushed back over her shoulders, and her blazer made her look like a wholly new person. Gen snorted at the presentation of it all– if only the denizens of Raccoon City knew that just this morning Presley had a breakfast that consisted of Kool-Aid Jammers and shark gummies.

“John, I wish I had better news. As you can see, this rain won’t be letting up anytime soon…”

It wasn’t the shift Presley had dreamt of. It was the nightly news when most of the old people were asleep, and anyone who had caught Presley talking was just skipping through channels for X-Files reruns. Genesis’ lips pushed into a sympathetic smile as she turned the volume all the way down. At least she could say she had seen her sister’s TV debut on Raccoon 7.

Genesis looked at the clock. RacCity Video would close in about ten minutes, and she wasn’t supposed to close up until then. Outside the rain obscured the world from her. Neon lights fell onto puddles like hot pink halos and a taxi blared its horn as it ran a red light. Genesis grabbed her keys from her hip and flicked through them as she walked to the door. The lock clicked into place as a silhouette pounded on the glass door. Genesis stumbled backwards, the key still in the door. Fear shot up her spine, hot and prickly. The nearby street light flickered and the darkness it cast obscured his face from her.

With her pulse a storm in her throat, Genesis backed away from the locked door. The way the figure swayed they were surely drunk. Genesis felt a pang of guilt pool into the pits of her stomach; it was cruel to lock someone out in a storm like that. She took a breath and steeled her nerves. When she returned to the door she reached a shaky hand towards the keys. The figure made a sound she’d never heard a person make before– it would be a long while before she would get that sound out of her head.

The keys back at her side Gen turned away from the shadow looming outside. She quickly made her way over to the counter, wanting to leave behind the grotesque encounter as fast as possible. Tonight she wasn’t keen on getting in trouble.

The day had been relatively quiet and only a few customers had strayed into the video store. A couple of rentals and a couple of returns with exactly three overdraft fees to square off. To sum it up, a boring day at work. With the visit of a regular customer in the late afternoon, the dreariness had been at least briefly interrupted. A man in his early thirties who loved to watch nature documentaries. Talking to him was nice and every time he offered an interesting fact about a strange species of bird or underwater volcanoes that he gathered from whatever documentary he had recently rented. And unlike other people, he always and without exception rewound the tapes.

Because of the low attendance today, there had been plenty of time for Genesis during her shift to get her workload done with ease. Rewinding tapes, returning them to the shelves and making sure the place was tidy in general. Her boss would be pleased. But with nothing to busy her hands, the last hour and a half had been mind-numbing. Neither staring holes in the air and listening to the rain nor twirling the ends of her two blonde braids between her fingers could make the minutes pass any faster. In a last stand against boredom, Gen even resorted to flipping through the wrinkled fashion magazine that her part-time colleague Cindy, a friendly high school student, had left in the office.

Another glance at the clock mounted to the wall and Genesis decided that she was ready to head out. Now more than ever, because the shock from just a moment ago was still palpable in her bones. Perhaps all the idleness of today had made her jumpy. Then again the unholy sound coming from the shadow outside, now playing on repeat inside her mind like a broken record, etching itself deeper into her memory, could have scared every sane person out of their hide. She hardly dared to look at the door again. And yet she risked it, peaking anxiously around a shelf stacked with family friendly video tapes. But in front of the door there was only rain. The figure had disappeared. Thank goodness.

Dutifully, she turned off the tv and the main lights and walked down the hall, past the small office to the back exit. Cold and wet air hit her face and she shivered. Bag slung over her shoulder, Genesis opened her red and white umbrella, hoping the wind wouldn't tear it apart. Stepping out into the dark alley, the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. The weather could easily be blamed for this reaction, but she couldn't get that eerie feeling out of her head. As if she was being watched from the darkness. Determined not to let fear get the better of her, she hurried toward the main street.

As soon as she reached the doorstep of her home a sense of relief washed over her. Keys carelessly tossed into the bowl next to the door, she took a deep breath. Presley would be home soon. So Genesis proceeded to prepare dinner for herself and her sister.

While eating the women were talking about their day. Presley reported that it had been quite pleasant chatting with her co-host John before they went on air. And even though she didn't get to work prime time yet, she was happy about her job. And Genesis was genuinely happy for her.

Taking another bite, Presley suddenly changed the subject.

“More people have been infected with rabies. The numbers are going up. The mayor even wants to release a statement tomorrow.”

“Has there ever been a rabies pandemic?“ Genesis wondered.

“Not that I've ever heard of.” Presley shrugged.

She shifted in her seat.

“There is a rumor that it’s not ordinary rabies. My source claims it is something else. But no one can confirm anything.”

“That doesn't sound good,” said Genesis.

Oh how right she was. 

The conversation over dinner felt like it happened ages ago. Currently holed up in her apartment while Raccoon City went to hell Genesis recalled how drastically things had escalated during the past couple of days. Now she was certain that the person that scared the living hell out of her the other night by prowling against the door of the video store had been in fact a zombie. A monster she’d seen on the ugly covers of cheap horror flicks, when she sorted the tapes in the adult section of the store. It still felt unreal. Yet terrifying. But with Presley out of town she was a little less worried. Luckily, her friend in California had decided to get married this week. And that Presley had left before the city went into lockdown.

Genesis tried to block out the noise from outside. The sirens and screams had become louder and louder over the course of the last hour. An emergency broadcast promised a planned evacuation. And with that she realized that she had to leave.

Raccoon City was her home. The mere thought of leaving it behind made her stomach hurt and her heart freeze. But staying any longer wasn’t an option. All she knew was that she had to get out of town asap.

Maneuvering through the streets and trying to get to the evac site turned out to be more difficult than expected. Roads were blocked by burning cars. Those monsters roamed around emitting bone-chilling groans. Seeing all this she wished nothing more than to just rewind time. Just like she had done with the countless tapes at the video store. Rewind and get back to normal. Back to boring. But also back to safety.

As she turned around a corner she found herself face to face with the barrel of a gun. A yelp escaped her mouth.

“Shit.” The owner of said gun cursed, lowering the weapon immediately.

“What are you doing out here, lady?”

Genesis eyed the man in front of her. He was clad in black and green military clothing and carried functional gear. His dark, curly hair swayed as he took a quick look around, making sure the surrounding was safe enough for the moment. Worried brown eyes landed back on her. Waiting for an answer.

“I’m trying to get out of town,” she finally spoke up.

“Why are you not with the evacuation team? They are bringing people out by bus.” A justified question.

“I’m trying, but the way to the meeting point is blocked.”

“I see.” He frowned. “My name is Carlos, I’m with the UBCS, here to rescue civilians. And you are?”

“I’m Genesis. A civilian.”

Carlos laughed. A refreshing sound that almost managed to dispel her fear.

He locked eyes with her.

“I’m going to get you out of the city, Genesis, I promise,” Carlos spoke with determination. His reassuring smile gave her strength. And she knew, everything would be alright again.

[laresearchette]

Sunday, October 08, 2023 Canadian TV Listings (Times Eastern)

WHERE CAN I FIND THOSE PREMIERES?: 90 DAY FIANCÉ (TLC Canada) 8:00pm THE CIRCUS (Crave) 8:30pm LAST STOP LARRIMAH: MURDER DOWN UNDER (HBO Canada) 9:00pm 90 DAY FIANCÉ: PILLOW TALK (TLC Canada) 11:00pm THE TURNING POINT: MARTHA'S VINEYARD V. DESANTIS (MSNBC) 11:00pm

WHAT IS NOT PREMIERING IN CANADA TONIGHT?: ICE AIRPORT ALASKA (TBD - Smithsonian Channel) THE VENICE MURDERS (TBD - Lifetime Canada) THE CAINE MUTINY COURT-MARTIAL (TBD)

NEW TO AMAZON PRIME CANADA/CBC GEM/CRAVE TV/DISNEY + STAR/NETFLIX CANADA:

AMAZON PRIME CANADA ARODON DIAMOND IN THE SKY LISTENING EARS SURVIVAL OF JELILI

CRAVE TV LAST STOP LARRIMAH

NFL FOOTBALL (TSN4) 9:30am: Jaguars vs. Bills (TSN/TSN4) 1:00pm: Giants vs. Dolphins (TSN/TSN4) 4:00pm: Eagles vs. Rams (TSN/TSN3/TSN4/TSN5) 8:20pm: Cowboys vs. 49ers

MEN’S RUGBY WORLD CUP (TSN2) 11:45am: Tonga vs. Romania

NBA BASKETBALL (SN Now) 1:00pm: Bulls vs. Bucks (SN1) 8:00pm: Kings vs. Raptors (SN Now) 8:00pm: Pacers vs. Grizzlies

WNBA BASKETBALL (SN1) 3:00pm: Liberty vs. Aces - Game #1

MLB BASEBALL (SN) 4:00pm: ALDS - Rangers vs. Orioles - Game #2 (SN) 3:00pm: ALDS - Twins vs. Astros - Game #2

HEARTLAND (CBC) 7:00pm: Amy and Jack retrain Edwin's horse for carriage racing, bringing Amy and Edwin closer; Logan takes on his first client horse; election night arrives for Lou just as the family faces a difficult loss…OH NO! SAVE YOURSELF HORSIE!

THE BIG BAKE (Food Network Canada) 7:00pm: Fun and games turn to frights as host Brad Smith challenges the baking teams to sew up a win with a dangerous doll cake that toys with judges Ron Ben-Israel, Eddie Jackson and Danni Rose.

THE GREAT CANADIAN BAKING SHOW (CBC) 8:00pm: It's Bread Week once again, and the nine remaining bakers knead to prove their bread-iness.

CRUELLA (CTV2) 8:00pm: Estella is a young and clever grifter who's determined to make a name for herself in the fashion world. However, when Estella befriends fashion legend Baroness von Hellman, she embraces her wicked side to become the raucous and revenge-bent Cruella.

BIG LIES IN A SMALL TOWN (Lifetime Canada) 8:00pm: Young mother Rachel frantically searches for her teen daughter, Hannah, after their car crashes outside a small town; people die mysteriously in Rachel's wake as she gets closer to finding out that the local doctor kidnapped her daughter.

SKYMED (CBC) 9:00pm: As the SkyMed crew wait for their fallen team member to wake up, Crystal starts to find her feet as a medical student, and a secret from the past threatens Nowak and Tristan's relationship.

BRYAN'S ALL IN (HGTV Canada) 9:00pm/10:00pm (SERIES PREMIERE): City slickers turned country boys, Ryan and Taylor, need Bryan's help to transform their live-and-work farm into a show-stopping distillery and bar; they need to create a venue that stands apart from the competition. In Episode Two, new-generation farmers, Samantha and Paul, have big dreams for their rural business; they want to create a farm stand to sell their home-grown products, but also to give local artisans a place to sell their goods.

EUROPE’S HIDDEN WONDERS (Nat Geo Canada) 9:00pm (SERIES PREMIERE): The filmmaker showcases the natural wonders of Germany, from the peaks of the Bavarian Alps to the coasts of the North and Baltic Seas.

WHEN CALLS THE HEART (Super Channel Heart and Home) 9:00pm: Lucas is the talk of Hope Valley; Elizabeth and the whole town rally around him, but everyone still worries it won't be enough to stop the governor.

CLEAN SWEEP (Super Channel Fuse) 9:00pm: The pressure builds on all fronts as Shelly is identified as the mysterious woman at the crime scene; she considers fleeing, but she would never leave her kids.

BELLE COLLECTIVE (OWN Canada) 10:00pm (SEASON PREMIERE): Latrice, Lateshia, Gucci and Tambra confront their relationship issues head on.

THE WINTER KING (Crave) 11:00pm: Arthur and the tribe kings enter peace talks; Arthur meets Guinevere, Ceinwyn's lady-in-waiting, while traveling.

[jenifersohowe]

AMERICANS FAMILY PROFESSIONALS DESIGNERS HOWE'S WITH DESIGN IN INDEPENDA...

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[webscarlet]

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[worldlibertytv]

See NYFW 2024 in our World Liberty TV , Fashion Channels @ https://www.worldlibertytv.org/best-of-new-york-fashion-week-shows-part-2-2024/

[laura-apexart]

Day 18 7.25

Scientology Church 

The floor of a modern building with a receptionist who guides me to the center of the room which is oriented in a circle with -four tvs facing inward, each playing different videos focusing on the different aspects of Scientology 

Youth groups human rights and human liberty movements, the origins and recognition, anti-drug elimination campaigns, Dianetics, exploration, etc. 

The tvs are also on the outside of the circle -4 more -a total of 8 maybe even more! Then a whole book shop filled with Ron L Hubbard books-sole author and creator -hmmm

Then there are cubicles —testing stations and then offices with glass windows for personal consultations and readings ? There is a world where I pursue one as experience as “research” as curiosity, but not today. Feels a bit like some of the pseudoscience I have been exploring in my own work -maybe fertile territory to mine in terms of constructions and world building.

Then I go north to a very fancy neighborhood called "Calle de los Anticuarios." “ A street with a unique personality that for years has offered the best in decoration, design, fashion, and gastronomy.”

 boutique stores -beautiful things all made by Colombian and South American artisans and designers. I love looking and touching and shopping definitely scratches an itch when I’m not making perhaps -I will come back to buy some gifts.

The Movie “the outsiders” is –sold out at the public Cinemateca of Bogota so the women selling tickets gave me one to the opening of Cartigraphfias De Lo no Visto–Cartographies of the Unseen–a researched based photography/video installation by Claudia Gordillo taking place inside one of the cinema theaters. Multi-channel, many screens within screens, with many people talking simultaneously about territory, women and various cultural practices. 

[the-king-andthe-lionheart]

At least Reign knew how to write political intrigue while also writing fascinating characters like Catherine de' Medici. Yeah, it took a lot of liberties and it's not highbrow or prestige TV but at least it's obvious they knew their history even if they didn't always abide by it. With HOTD you can tell that none of the writers understand medieval/Renaissance courtly ways or how worlds like that really work. The very fact that their costumes suck ass just shows how little they actually understand because fashion equals politics in feudalism. The richer the fabrics, the brighter the colors, the more jewels you wore, was a political statement about how much power you had because the process of making clothing was a long one. Not to mention how HOTD takes place in a golden age and yet we have costumes like that with constant repeat costumes despite the fact that royals in an age like that would probably be changing more than once a day. Not to mention, how that world doesn't have the same technology as the modern world and they don't wear shifts which means their clothes would be beyond rank with how much they are repeated if that was happening in the real world in an era like that in a hot climate.

Anyways, an example from another golden age in our real world history: When Queen Elizabeth I died she had over 2000 elaborate gowns in her wardrobe.

HOTD has no excuses and should better budget for better costumes.

Also you can tell that the writers can't pace for shit. The Tudors excelled at pacing. Months, sometimes years, could take place in one single episode and it didn't hurt the content at all and everything still made sense. HOTD can't hold a candle to that.

And truthfully I blame GRRM for this. It's obvious he was looking for fans first and experience second to take on these adaptations. He should have been looking at experience first and foremost. He should have been making sure anyone he choose had an understanding of actual western feudalistic history which included women studies in those eras. He should have been making sure anyone he chose could actually pace a story coherently considering HOTD was spanning like 30 years. Instead he chose a fan first and foremost and that fan obviously was more interested in writing his very own fanfic than actually adapting the story, which IMO isn't professional and actually is an insult to GRRM's work. Like yes, fanfic is great, I love it, but Ryan Condal was tasked with adapting what was written. He wasn't tasked with writing and filming his own fanfic. HOTD is supposed to be "based on" F&B, not "inspired by" F&B. It's an insult and he was not fully qualified for the job. At the very least he could have stuck with what was written for the most part and hire writers that could have filled in the gaps. Writers who have written for historical dramas for example, and writers who have more experience at pacing a story that takes place over decades, but he didn't.

Also the costumes in My Lady Jane are amazing. Maybe not completely true to the era, but pretty damn close enough. That's what we should have been seeing in HOTD at the very least.

House of the Dragon clearly doesn't come close to The Borgias (I'm talking about the Showtime version here) the iconic Rome (and I will forever thank my old high school freshman history teacher for teaching me discover this nugget) or even The Tudor.

I want to say, it doesn't even come close to My Lady Jane on Amazon Prime, a reimagined version of the story with a dose of fantasy and comedy.

Frankly, objectively, HOTD is pitiful.

Even REIGN, is better that this shit show !

The fact that so many people put it on a pedestal will always baffle me, including comparing it to The Ring of Power, when in fact both shows have the same flaws. It's just that at least on TROP's side the screenwriters own up to their bullshit without taking themselves for writing gods...

[j0kers-light]

His Lighthouse: To Be Found (LedgerJoker x f!reader)

To Be Found 

series summary:

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

chapter summary:

Its an average Thursday with Y/n struggling to ignite her writing mode. What start’s out as a normal night for Y/n, quickly turns into the worst weekend she’ll ever experience. That is... if she survives the whole ordeal. 

Without further ado, I hope you enjoy the story!

Last Chapter  |  Next Chapter

It always rained in Gotham but that didn't dampen Y/n's mood. After spending majority of your life in the rain, your body simply adapted to it. An umbrella felt like an extension of your hand nowadays.

Today's forecast was a light drizzle, stuck in between being a nuisance and the beginning stages of a downpour. This was Gotham, so it leaned more towards the latter. Paired with the unbearable humidity and the constant rain, your natural hair didn't stand a chance here.

"Why did I move to Gotham?" You asked yourself wistfully.

Still inside your apartment you sighed at the wet, dreary city outside and packed your trusty umbrella into your tote bag before mentally creating an outfit geared around your rain boots.

For a lazy Thursday afternoon, things were relatively lax at your residence. Soft soul music played from your record player and you took the liberty of living alone to dance around because truly, no one was watching.

One of your giant floor length windows overlooked a nearby park a few blocks away and thankfully you had no neighbors on either side of you to witness you dancing.

You had nothing but your royalties to thank for your cozy Old Gotham apartment near Grant Park. As a matter of fact you had a clear view of it and parts of the Fashion District come night time. You loved the gothic architectural charm of Downtown mixed in with the modern restoration and because of its respectable distance away from Otisburg and Burnley.

Everywhere in Gotham was dangerous but at least you didn't sleep in Joker's playground.

GCPD and Wayne Tower were within walking distance of your apartment if need be, something that put your parent's minds at ease back in Blüdhaven and it ultimately became the final factor in renting the place. Well that plus the original claw foot bathtub but safety came first!

Just mentioning the name of your hometown made your skin crawl. You were forever grateful you escaped that God forsaken city only to land in far worse conditions, but you chose to bear it. Your dreams were limited back home. At least you had a chance to embrace them here in Gotham City.

Ever since you were a little girl the art of creating stories fascinated you. Buried deep inside your mind was the power to create different worlds for people to explore and escape to.

What started out as a simple pastime after studies grew and caught the attention of your school teacher. From there you wrote in local underwriters contests and dabbled in the underground poetry scene until you were eventually scouted out by a publisher. Three novels into an original series with a few standalone books on the side, you were quite a big deal within the YA fiction world. You got a taste of your dream and nothing would stop you.

With your recent book tour complete and the final recording for your third tv interview done, nothing was available to occupy your thoughts which meant it was fast approaching.

Writer's block. Every writer experienced it but the feeling always hit you the worst. By no means were you under a strict contract but as the months rolled by with no new book material, your manager expressed her concerns.

'You gotta give me something to work with, Y/n. I don't want your contract to lapse. Just a few pages! I'll take a novella draft at this point just.. please send me something to beta.' 

You loved Cindy. She meant well and had been the person who scouted you out of Fat Joe's coffeehouse back home and took a chance with you. She saw your potential and wanted to see it flourish. Her keen editing eye and patience for your slow updates made you two the perfect team. Add in the fact she was around the same age as you and boom, everything was golden. 

Who said your manager couldn't be your friend? 

You didn't want to disappoint Cindy but there wasn't any creative juices flowing upstairs. You moved to Gotham to have unlimited inspiration readily available but recently, nothing jumped out at you. The absolute worst case scenario would be getting a new book idea identical to your previous work. A consumer didn't want to read the same story told twice, much less by the same author. 

In time something would reach out and grab you, no need to force greatness. The Greeks Among Us came to you during a midnight stroll past the seedy GC Olympus nightclub in town and your best seller to date, Will Hunter Bill hit you in line at the butcher's market. 

Your loud exclamation in the store terrified a few people but when an idea hits, you tend to get excited. You purchased your meat and jotted down the storyline on the subway ride back home. Two weeks later, Cindy got five rough draft chapters dumped on her desk with the promise of more to come. 

You can't eat a steak anymore without smiling wide. That book was your David, your Mona Lisa- and you feared nothing else would top it's perfection. 

You wish you could pen another bestseller! Oddly enough your thriller hit started out as a flop until a few kids online created a cult following for it and made it mainstream. The true message for the story went over so many people's heads it collected dust on local bookshelves until the Mayor's wife was spotted reading it at her hair appointment. 

Before you knew it, copies were flying off the shelves and Cindy was begging you to write a sequel and boy did you deliver. Your hit series gained attention around the East coast and attracted all types of readers- even infamous ones.  

The Riddler used a direct quote for one of his deadly culling game traps, giving your publisher a liability lawsuit scare.

Then Two-Face was recorded giving his split review about it. He demanded justice for the book's murderers, going on and on about how they needed to be punished and given a fair trial. They were fictional characters! These psychopaths really knew how to test your patience. 

As long as people enjoyed your work that's all that mattered to you. Sure notoriety was great, the royalties were even better, but seeing a fan nose deep and distracted by your story that they couldn't spare a moment away, was worth the late nights spent toiling in front of your laptop. 

It was only natural that you wanted to give the people more material to read, however you knew your writer's block was fast approaching like a freight train. 

You so desperately needed a muse to fight it off. Usually a long walk through the city would spark the mood but it was too dangerous to go out on the weekends (or any day really, Gotham's crime did not rest) especially during the hours your insomnia kept you up. 

You could hear your friend Barbara now. "It's far too dangerous to be walking around at night Y/n! Have you lost your mind?" 

Cue you chuckling to mask your labored breathing. Of course you were out walking whenever she called. It seems she always caught you red handed. 

Barbara stayed up during late hours but you knew computer analytics usually worked at night. A phone call from her at 3AM was normal. Both of you were night owls so no feelings were hurt. 

"Don't worry Barbs! I'm uh.. on my way back right now. I'm walking up Hamilton street as we speak." 

You heard her fingers stop typing over the phone and knew the tongue lashing was imminent. Sometimes Barbara played the part of the 'mom friend' a little too well. Your real mother would be proud of the redhead. 

"Y/n. Isn't that like thirty minutes from your place?" She sighed and resumed her rhythmic tapping. "I'm gonna put a tracker on you one day."  

"Haha, don't be so overprotective Mom. It's not that far!" Little did you know Barbara considered bugging your phone numerous times with a bat tracker but she respected your privacy. 

Now she was regretting that decision. Maybe she could plant one on you at the next brunch you two planned. For now she would settle for keeping you on the phone until she heard your apartment keys jingle in the door. "Okay! I'm back home Barbara. Can I go now?" 

You didn't mind her nightly check-ins. Barbara was good people and a very close friend within your minuscule social circle. 

You didn't get out much and making friends wasn't your strongest suit but after you got lost at your own charity event (another mindless event to promote your first book in the series) and found Barbara talking with a very handsome guy in an empty corridor, the two of you instantly clicked and became fast friends. 

You apologized for intruding on their moment but Barbara waved off your apology and kept it moving. She introduced you to Dick Grayson and thereafter to the savior of Gotham himself, Bruce Wayne. 

Both men hid their relief when you didn't immediately worship the ground they walked on. In fact you didn't recognize their faces or make the connection as to who they were since you were far more fascinated by their matching lapel pins. 

"It's Will's family crest! Where did you get these?!" You gushed, only to be startled out of your fangirl moment by Dick clearing his throat. 

It jumpstarted your brain to notice your hands placement that was practically glued to Mr. Wayne's chest. From what you could feel and you felt quite a lot.. he was very buff for a rich businessman. Maybe he worked out to get the ladies? Anyways.. 

"Oh!" Your ears flushed red. "I'm so sorry! I'm usually not so touchy-feely with strangers. I guess I got too excited! I've seen a lot of fan merch but never one so detailed.." 

"Fan merch? I don't quite follow?" He questioned. 

"It's short for merchandise old man.." Dick chuckled in the background.

Barbara facepalmed and gestured your way. "Bruce, this is Y/n L/n, the author of Will Hunter Bill."  

It took Bruce two seconds to process their comments before he switched into his philanthropist mode. He became the one apologizing for not recognizing you and rambled on about how much he loved your work. You mentally checked out after that. 

"You.. you read my books?" 

His gentle laugh was soothing but it didn't compare to his smile. No wonder so many women fell for his charms. 

"Of course! The way you captured and deceived the audience for half the book only to discover that we the readers are responsible for the murders occurring in the book. It's simply genius. I encouraged all of my staff to read it in their downtime. People need to learn that their actions can influence others inadvertently, no matter how minuscule it may seem."

You soaked up his praise that day. No one summarized your book series so perfectly like Bruce did. 

Cindy appeared and tried to steer you away to mingle with other potential connections and sponsors at the event but you stayed with Mr. Wayne, "Please, call me Bruce." okay.. you stayed with Bruce and Barbara, the latter whom you already exchanged numbers with. 

Two hours passed and not a second of it was wasted with the deep conversation you and Bruce held. 

You didn't care about how your close proximity to Bruce was perceived. You were socializing and making new friends, all while talking about your passion for writing. Let the press have a field day. You would deal with the rumors later. 

The following months after the event gave you enough time to establish a close friendship with Barbara and Dick to call them on speed dial whenever. Be it a quick chat or a long conversation about absolutely nothing, they would answer but you didn't dare program Bruce's number into your phone. 

It was probably his main business number he gave you but the slip of paper sat like a stone in your purse for months after the event, taunting you. 

It didn't feel right calling up such a busy man just to chat. I mean.. what would you talk about besides your books? You two had nothing in common! 

Barbara teased you about it every chance she got. "Bruce rarely gives out his number to people so someone made a great first impression on him." 

You rolled your eyes, "Barb quit it. It's probably his work number, plus he's almost twice my age!" 

You two were sitting at a local restaurant that was handicap accessible, enjoying the rare occasion both of you were free. The humidity from outside fogged up the restaurant's windows but it was pleasant inside away from the rain. 

Her green eyes mimicked yours as she laughed. "Are you sure? Was the card black or slate grey?" She waited for your answer but frowned when you looked unsure. "What's wrong, you don't remember?" 

"It wasn't a card Barbara. He gave me a piece of paper with a number written on it." 

In total, only two minutes passed before you realized just how dumb you were. "Oh my God! Bruce Wayne gave me his personal cell number and I've been sitting on it for almost a year!"  

Your loud shout gained attention from the nearby tables but so did Barbara's howling laughter. 

"This isn't funny Barb!! I don't want the guy to hate me!" You whined. "Oh do you want him to like you?" She replied just as fast. 

"Gah! Here you are encouraging this behavior like a devil on my shoulder! What would my mother say if she knew that Bruce Wayne, of all people, was interested in me?" You tried to explain. 

"Congratulations?" Your glare only fueled her laughter. 

"Oh come on he's not that old.. and age gaps are becoming more popular if you're so worried." Was she trying to convince you or herself? "Look, I've known him for years and I highly doubt he noticed your lack of response with how busy he is and if he did, so what? Just tell him the truth." 

That was the point, you didn't want to accept the truth. It seemed impossible that Bruce Wayne, a successful billionaire, playboy, and philanthropist, in a league of his own, and drop dead gorgeous no matter his age, was interested in you. 

Not to discredit your own success but it didn't (and would never) match Bruce's. 

Despite being a popular author in your prime, until a movie producer came along your stories would be just that. Books on someone's bookshelf. Your fame would fade and so would the steady income. It was no wonder many authors never became wealthy from only their literature. 

Cindy tried to get you to schmooze with some silver screen board directors at the charity event but you choose to dissect your series page by page with Bruce instead. 

The way he talked about your characters and gave them more personality than you ever could had you starry eyed. You joked that he should write only to receive his deep chuckle. "I don't have the time but maybe I can commission you to pen a biography for me." 

You never blushed so much before. He trusted you of all people to write something so important? Surely he was joking. You discovered while talking with Bruce that he had a good sense of humor. 

You hoped your words didn't insult him. "Well I would need to study you and your life in detail to make it authentic. And no offense Mr. Wayne, but that would take quite a bit of time.. time you don't have." 

He smiled at that. "That's true but," Bruce brought his glass up to his lips as if you weren't waiting for his response with bated breath. "I thought I told you to call me Bruce, Y/n." 

"Oh right um B-Bruce. I'd love to write your biography but the matter of time in which to study you is still an issue." 

Instincts should have warned you. Common sense all but threw it in your face but in that moment you didn't put the puzzle pieces together. Bruce liked you. 

He reached out to tuck a wayward curl of hair behind your ear. His fingertips left a slight burning sensation on the curve of your ear and it made your entire body freeze up. 

"Ask of me anything. I will defy my own will to grant your desires." Bruce cited with a confident grin. 

"Did you just quote.." You were beyond speechless.

No one quoted The Greeks Among Us to you before. It was the second book of your oeuvre and the most neglected due to its Greek mythology and ambiguous ending. The fact he quoted it perfectly and from memory confirmed that Bruce was truly a fan of your work. 

"I can make time for you, Y/n. Do you have a pen and paper?"  

You nodded robotically. A writer without a pen and paper wasn't worth her salt. The tiny clutch you carried was bottomless; a sticky pad was given to Bruce along with your favorite ballpoint pen. He jotted something down and handed everything back to you while ignoring your eyebrow dipping in confusion.

"Call me whenever you're ready to begin." He was going to flirt a bit more but Dick appeared and whispered something in Bruce's ear. 

From the dark look that schooled his features, whatever he was being briefed on wasn't good. 

Bruce left you with a warm smile and a suggestion, more like a command, to call the night short and go home. You were tired and Cindy was busy rubbing shoulders with the stiff suits on your behalf. You weren't needed here so you took Bruce's advice and went home.

Little did you know not even five minutes after you left the party, it was robbed by local criminals looking to strike it rich. An unfortunate but normal occurrence that happens in this city. Another thing its citizens simply adapt to.

You on the other hand were still new to Gotham. Next month would be your one year anniversary of moving to this living hell. But your dreams were possible here. You could live a relatively normal life surrounded by your books. The very stack of books you almost tripped over while dancing.

You quickly corrected your balance to avoid a nasty fall and decided to stop dancing for now. Everything was all fun and games until someone got hurt.

The rain was still beating against the windows outside. During your deep reflective thoughts the rain had picked up from its light drizzle to the steady downpour you had predicted earlier.

Johnny Charisma was now crooning in your apartment and your tote bag was still lying open on the couch waiting for more items to be shoved inside. 

You blinked rapidly trying to remember what you were doing before your brain went down a rabbit hole but came up short. You shook your head but in the process you spotted the breaking news banner on your tv. 

It wasn't unusual for you to keep it on as you worked kinda like a much needed break for your overworked eyes.

As if the tv screen was any better than your laptop but with the tv muted your brain had space to think unrestricted. You found the tv remote and raised the volume. Immediately the news anchorwoman's voice flooded the room.

"...The Joker has once again escaped from Arkham Asylum custody and is at large at the current hour. We do not have any leads as to how he escaped the infamous island but police personnel are once again advising all citizens to shelter in place until he is arrested, effective immediately. We are uncertain of how long the curfew will last but we can confirm The Joker has killed six people during his escape. Commissioner Jim Gordon has not responded to any comments about the Asylum employee in critical condition but we will update you if he does. All of us here in Gotham expect to see Batman's signal in the sky tonight and in the many nights to come. Reporting live from GCN.."

You muted the tv coverage. Great. Just wonderful! Another curfew for the city in fear, all over a clown. When would your fellow citizens begin to see these criminals for what they truly were, normal human beings crying out for help?

Maybe because you were an optimist or perhaps just touched in the head, but you had no fear for these so-called criminals who tormented the city. Blüdhaven was far worse. It housed the rejects of Gotham trying to restart their lives.

Your neighbors growing up were serial killers. You went to school with their children. Most of your family members still had active lives in crime and your old unpublished work was based off of their stories. Crime was all around you growing up, so what was the purpose of a curfew for just one person?

So what if Joker was running wild in the city? The odds of you meeting were lower than one percent.

Although you did need groceries.. so it might bounce up to 0.5 percent if you took a trip to the store.

Whether it be a natural disaster, normal grocery shopping, or a current shelter in place curfew, Gotham citizens always stocked up like Armageddon was coming. The shelves would be empty by dinnertime if you didn't go now.

Another glance out the window made you sigh. "My hair is gonna get wet." At least the rain would buy you some time before the rush hour crowd clocked out from work.

You groaned but shuffled to your kitchen while grabbing a pad of paper to make a quick list. You had the basic kitchen essentials like milk, bread, and eggs but if this writer's block was anything like its counterpart from the beginning of the year, you needed a plethora of snacks to hold you over.

Since it was Thursday you jotted down ingredients for a hearty, rainy weekend dinner and wrote down a few other things you were low on. Drinks, chips.. ingredients to make some homemade desserts and hopefully they stocked up on your favorite fruits to make a fruit bowl. Your tiny list quickly grew but you rather be safe than sorry. Of course the city curfew was lax but you didn't feel like leaving the house anytime soon once you settled yourself indoors.

You needed to get motivated and start a new work. Not only to save your lapsing contract but for your own sanity. A day spent without writing felt like torture to you.

Your hands itched to type or research a source, anything! As the next song played on in the background, you ventured to your room to get dressed for the rain.

Your closet was a treasure trove of finds ranging from foreign designer threads, to thrift store overalls, to lazy day sweats, but today you decided on an off duty model look for your shopping trip.

You fished out your cobalt blue leather pants and your thigh high snakeskin boots, nodding at your vision. No oversized cloggy rain boots here, you stepped out in style.

The rain was a permanent feature here in Gotham but it never stood in the way of a killer outfit. A simple white crop top was added to your ensemble before you dug out your floor length puffer raincoat you bought on an urge. It was slate grey with blue undertones that would work perfectly with your bold colored pants.

Just because it was dull and gloomy outside didn't mean you had to be.

You twirled around in the mirror nodding to yourself at a job well done. All you needed now was some silver hoop earrings and a way to style your hair.

In its current state it was bound to get wet and curl up on you so you decided to rock the wild frizzy look until the wheels fell off. Wash and go's were another permanent fixture in your life. Hair day would have to be tomorrow; no more putting it off.

With a final outfit check in the mirror your tote bag was thrown over your shoulder along with your phone being shoved into its designed side pocket.

Your list was tucked away from the rain and you locked your apartment before riding the elevator down to the front lobby and making small talk with a neighbor as they walked by.

"It's another rainy one huh?!"

They were soaking wet and that made you cringe and open your umbrella as you walked outside. The rainfall was steady. Could be worse, but you took it in stride.

The congested sidewalks and honks from taxi cabs to the distant police sirens in the city were background noise compared to the loud pitter patter of rain. It had a way of hogging all of the attention as it washed over the city and drowned out the hustle and bustling noises of Gotham. A peaceful reprieve in the city of crime.

You boarded the subway without any issues. Your puffy coat and umbrella shielded you from the rain unlike the other passengers you spotted on your way to the station. Gotham citizens either chose to shield from the rain or to embrace it.

The ones who chose to embrace the weather were in various states of wetness. Some were bone dry like you or soaked completely through but most were in between, neither wet nor dry.

It made no sense to expose yourself to the elements, possible illnesses, and overall discomfort simply because you didn't want to carry an umbrella.

It was Gotham; a little rainwater wouldn't kill ya but a random citizen most definitely would and probably enjoy themselves while doing it. The city you moved to...

A calm feminine voice announced your stop. You hadn't moved from your standing position by the door and you were the first person out when the subway doors slid open. Living in Gotham for almost a year educated you on the tips and secrets necessary to stay safe.

Every adult has their favorite grocery store where they memorized the store layout and/or knows the butchers and other workers. That was normal right?

If not, you didn't care. This store was a little on the pricier side but their selection of food was worth it.

You entered the store, shaking your umbrella dry before sliding it into the storage area; a normal amenity in a rainy city like Gotham. Upon paying the small renting fee for a shopping cart, you pushed it around the front of the store as you dug out your shopping list and pen.

"Don't look at the fresh flowers, Y/n. You don't need any more flowers.. stick to your list!" Although you fought temptation, you still ended up in the florist section browsing through the vast options.

Your mind was working overtime to save you from your impending writer's block. Dancing around the apartment didn't work so it moved onto buying pretty things with the hopes of baking sweet treats if the flowers failed.

The florist saw your wandering eye and waved from behind the counter. "Hi Y/n! Care for your favorite bouquet?" She turned to get started when your undecided tone graced her ears.

"Nah, not today Morgana. Can you surprise me this time? I'm thinking something bright and whimsical to promote some motivation." You eyed the single stems on display and knew she would work her magic yet again. Morgana never disappointed you.

She smiled brightly. "Free creative reign?"

"Duh of course! I'm gonna shop around but I'll come back and pick them up when I'm done. Have fun; there's no limit."

From one artist to another you knew your words sparked the match in Morgana's mind.

Her brown eyes sparkled brighter than her smile. You heard her long ponytail whip through the air from how fast she turned to begin. She looked like a woman on a mission, already grabbing stems to form a base. You smiled and pushed your cart towards the produce section to start shopping.

Oddly enough, the shelves were still relatively stocked but you did beat the 5PM work crowd. You took your time and stuck to your list browsing through the options. You were debating between two packets of meat when your phone rang.

"Oh geez.. who could that be?" Dropping both packets inside your cart to free up your hands, you quickly answered your phone. "Hello?"

"Thank God you answered! Did you not get my text messages Y/n?!" Barbara's frantic voice sounded off in your ear until you pulled it back to check your phone. Lo and behold, ten plus messages increasing in worry from being ignored greeted you.

"Oops.." You scrolled through other messages as you waited for Barbara to scold you.

Sure enough, "That's it? All I get is an oops? Anyways.. I've been trying to reach you. Did you hear about the-"

You totally forgot you were in the grocery store. A sharp ahem drew your attention away from Barbara's phone call to a middle aged woman trying to get by with her buggy.

Your apologies meant nothing to her but you did your best to get out of her way. She snatched a whole chicken out of the bin and gave you the stink eye until she turned the corner. Who peed in her cereal?

"...Y/n? Y/n, can you hear me?!"

Where was your brain today? You scrambled back onto the phone. "Yes, I'm here Barbara! I'm at the store and this Karen caught an attitude. You were saying?" Her fingers missed a key creating a familiar noise. One you memorized by now.

"Does anyone honor my dad's curfew?" She sighed.

You added a packet of beef to your cart. "Nope."

"I see." Barbara said. "But people should be indoors where it's safe!"

It was your turn to sigh. Pushing your cart towards the non-perishables, you picked up a few boxes of baker's chocolate and stocked up on flour and sugar. "No offense Barb but when isn't The Joker free? I'm still relatively new to the city and I don't get the hype for a shelter in place. It's just one guy.."

"Who killed nineteen people in half an hour." Her rhythmic passes across the keyboard started up again and each key echoed loudly in your ear. Maybe you could gift Barbara a new keyboard for Christmas, preferably one with silent keys. The body count however had you confused so you asked.

"Nineteen?! The news said he only killed six."

"Y/n, my dad's the Commissioner. Please tell me you don't believe anything GCN reports? Let me guess, they used their favorite lie, "Commissioner Gordon has not responded to any comments, but hey we didn't reach out to him in the first place to receive such a response!" You kept quiet on your end.

"Your silence confirms it. I can't believe people will listen to GCN before they believe the words of my father, who is the Commissioner! Please go home, Y/n. At least for me? I don't know what I'd do if you were hurt." Barbara mumbled.

You came to a stop in the middle of the store. Her words touched you deeply for you never had a friend growing up that cared about your safety. You led a lonely life but you were slowly opening up and letting people in it.

"Awww love you too Barb! I'm almost done shopping. I promise I'll head straight home. Remember my contract lapse is creeping up so I really need to get into my writing mode and produce something. I promise I won't be going anywhere until Joker is captured or I have a book idea drafted."

You turned down the snack aisle and selected various goods to join your growing cart. Somewhere in between your phone call with Barbara you did away with your list and got whatever you wanted.

Sure you might have some trouble carrying it all back home but you needed more food than what you originally planned.

Who knows how long recapturing Joker might take but you knew it would take even longer for you to draft a story with your current uninspired mind.

"Thank you Y/n. I can work in peace knowing you're safe."

A few more pleasantries were exchanged over the phone before you and Barbara hung up. The rest of your shopping trip went by uneventfully and you purchased your items including the fresh cut flowers that Morgana arranged. She was nervous about your reaction which was completely unnecessary. You would buy thorns and dead roots if she arranged them, the woman was a genius.

A beautiful bouquet of white roses coupled with ivory and lavender mixed elegantly between thistle leaves and blue snapdragons. She added Veronica's and purple scabiosas to round off the display. It looked and smelled delightful. You hoped it would liven up your apartment and boost your creativity.

You declined the store's offer to help deliver your purchases to your residence, (you weren't poor, but definitely not rich enough to afford the tab) and heaved the four heavy bags, two in each arm, with your umbrella hoisted in your grip out the store. Your flowers were wrapped in brown kraft paper and tucked securely in your tote bag. It was a struggle, but you made it back home without getting robbed, soaking wet, and without dropping and/or losing anything.

The first thing you did when you stepped inside was turn on your record player for background noise to unpack to.

Everything had a place and slid neatly into it. Your flowers survived the trip although being slightly smushed on the subway ride. No major damage, so you trimmed the stems before giving them a proper home in your favorite flower vase.

From your writing desk you could smell their sweet aroma. You opted to move your work space from your spare guest room out to the living room to give you the perfect view out the floor length windows you loved so much. The people walking in the park outside and on the city streets below allowed your mind to wander and take a break while you typed.

You loved your apartment's layout and so did Barbara the many times she came over. The open space was ideal for her wheelchair and she was also a big fan of the bright yet cozy aesthetic your place showcased.

Speaking of the redhead. Now that you were fully settled, you sent a text to Barb letting her know you were safe.

An immediate buzz announced her thanks along with a promise to try and check in with you later. She mentioned being super busy tonight and that might impede her promise but she would try her hardest to honor it.

No worries! If not we can talk tomorrow :) 

You hit send and tossed your phone onto the desk. A vanilla beeswax candle was lit and a bowl of snacks from the store sat to the left of your laptop with a drink. The scene was set and with you tucked away inside from the rain, all you needed to do was start writing.

. . . . . .

But nothing came. A few hours had passed in your failed attempt at writing. Staring at the empty word document, the cursor blinked slower than normal as if taunting your lack of progress.

You didn't type a single word but the entire bowl of snacks was gone. Your candle was halfway burned through and the rain outside had let up to its original light trickle.

"This is going nowhere." You said.

You buried your face in your hands and groaned. "Focus, Y/n! Pull ya self together. No need to flesh out an entire story. All Cindy needs.. no, all I need is an idea. The rest will come later. It always does."

You glanced over at your mood board hoping for a spark. The designated white wall was devoid of clippings or other media of art. "Oh, I didn't update that." You picked up your phone only to see the low battery alert staring back at you.

"That's what I get for not charging all day." You inserted the charger into your phone, holding back a few frustrated tears.

All your normal avenues of inspiration weren't working all except for one. You were tempted but you promised Barbara you wouldn't.

You promised you wouldn't leave the apartment until you started a rough draft. Although you couldn't start a story you weren't motivated to write. The loophole presented itself.

A quick glance at the clock made you cringe. It was well after midnight but this was your golden hour. What harm could a ten minute walk do? You could walk a few blocks down to Repp Street and be back before anything dangerous happened. But you did make a promise…

"No walking around the city at odd hours of the night" but what Barbara didn't know wouldn't kill her. You needed a walk to clear your head and get the gears upstairs back a turning. Nothing bad would happen! As a writer you should've known better. You probably just jinxed yourself. 

Regardless if something did happen, you made an executive decision to go anyways and blew out your candle before shuffling over to your rain boots.

You put them on along with your puffy grey jacket from before and stepped out of the apartment. Your keys were still in your pocket so you walked down the hallway to the stairwell.

You didn't share the floor with anyone but Ms. Langstrom downstairs was adamant she could hear you walking back and forth at night. The old scientist forgot there was a whole maintenance floor separating you from everyone else. It was one of the many pros of owning the penthouse.

A con was the elevator didn't run this late. No matter how much the rent was in this middle-upper class building, they put restrictions on its hours of operation.

Just a short walk you told yourself, (the eleven flights of stairs didn't count) a couple of blocks around the corner, and then back, that's it.

It didn't dawn on you that you left your phone charging on your desk or that your alleged two blocks turned into a full walking exercise over the bridge to Somerset and into Chinatown.

You never walked this far on foot before but with your scattered brain the distance was nothing. The smell from the Chinese street vendors and restaurants wafted in the air, clearing up your thoughts and stimulating your imagination.

You haven't penned a historical fantasy book yet. Warm wonton soup, splashes of calligraphy ink across stark white ancient scrolls, and the distant twine of an Erhu played, on or was that sirens?

Sure enough you broke out of your trance to the sound of police sirens in the distance. Six GCPD cruises flew down the street giving you a mini heart attack but you were grateful for the distraction.

"Wait, how did I get here?" You looked left and right taking in your surroundings. It seemed only a few minutes had passed when in reality, it was almost two hours.

Red, yellow, and purple neon lights in traditional Hanzi characters flashed on every building and colorful streamers hanging from the rooftops enclosed the street, giving it a cozy and intimate feeling. It was a town of color vastly different from the bleak streets of Gotham. Ornate dragon statues stared back at you behind piles of trash and strings of red paper lanterns shined brilliantly from the rainstorm.

Inspiration was all around you waiting to be documented. You had an idea. Right now. You patted your pockets for your phone to jot them down, but froze.

"Where? Oh no. No no no no!!" If you didn't write this idea down it would fade away with no hope of returning. Where is your phone?! 

A vision of your sought after device charging at home popped in your mind. "Dang it!" Just your luck you forget to bring it!

In your anger you didn't notice the approaching figure. You kept searching through your empty pockets, (like that would do you any good) right into the stranger.

Somehow in the tumble his, or was it your balance, gave way and both of you crashed onto the pavement. Thankfully a few trash bags cushioned your fall, thus staining your coat, but that was the least of your worries.

Hovering above you was Gotham City’s worst nightmare: The Joker. Up close he wasn't as scary as the media painted him out to be. What terrified you the most was the 9 mm digging into your forehead.

It clicked off the safety right as his voice warned you.

"Make any noise and I'll blow your pretty little head off." His other hand gestured wildly to mimic your brain exploding before righting his balance above you.

You nodded as police dogs barked loudly and pulled their owners past the alleyway you and Joker fell into. Was it a blessing they didn't find you or a curse? More sirens and shouts rang out, getting closer and closer. Maybe you would stand corrected.

"This way!" One officer yelled while leading the rest. A helicopter circulated above and flooded the area with light yet it narrowly missed the two of you as you hid in plain sight.

Joker's body weight pressed you further down towards the pavement almost like he heard your thoughts. He couldn't afford to get caught and he was pleasantly surprised you were keeping quiet as the police personnel went by.

Usually his hostages would be sobbing uncontrollably by now or babbling nonsense in their delirium. He definitely would have shot them for it but you? You were different.

You remained calm although he felt the way your heart beat wildly in your chest but that could all be chalked up to the normal adrenaline rush after a jog. Joker glanced down at your attire and knew that wasn't the case. You were dressed like a rich spoiled brat caught in the rain. Snakeskin boots and leather pants? Were you asking to get mugged?

He chose to ignore how your pants hugged your figure… and what a figure indeed..

You breathed a sigh of relief or perhaps of regret when the helicopter and police left the area. Joker berated himself for checking you out and not paying attention to the search party. For a moment everything was quiet until you remembered Joker was practically lying on top of you.

You also remembered his threat from earlier and dutifully kept your mouth shut but it was getting uncomfortable as the minutes passed.

Was he gonna leave and do whatever wanted fugitives did in their downtime? Your weekend was free but that didn't mean you had all night to spend lying in some dirty alley.

The one time you leave the apartment without your phone you would run into the very person the entire city wanted to avoid. Whatever happened to your one percent chance rate? The one time you didn't shelter in place.. this would happen!

Your annoyed sigh got Joker's attention. His hooded eyes flickered over to you and scanned your features.

You were definitely something to look at but he was a busy man. He couldn't get distracted by some normal citizen with a pretty face. Since when was the last time he admired a girl simply for her looks and not by her usefulness as a hostage? Well currently you were a hostage but he felt no urge to kill you. Yet.

There were other ways you could be useful. Joker shifted his weight and even with his high tolerance for pain he couldn't hold back his low groan

The unexpected noise made you blink and break his orders. "Um.. are you okay?"

Silence. 'Well duh. What else were you expecting, Y/n? A response?'

He didn't pull the trigger or reprimand you so you pressed your luck again but right as you parted your lips to speak, he rolled off you. Was it wrong to miss his weight on you? Were you finally losing it? He did feel kinda nice– warm and solid, smelling faintly of rain and gunpowder, a shockingly good combination.

You watched as he awkwardly fell onto his side next to you. If he didn't want to answer your question fine, but you knew something was wrong.

Joker's gun was no longer pointed at your forehead, allowing you to sit up and search for the cause of his grunt. The red glow from Chinatown illuminated the narrow alleyway that you and Joker rested in and upon first glance, he looked fine.

The GCN’s news prioritized the deaths and injuries of the Asylum workers but failed to report Joker's condition. Not like anyone cared but somehow in his escape he sustained some kind of injury.

Laying on his side you noticed he favored his left leg more and now that you got a closer look at him, you saw that he was bleeding.

"Oh um you're bleeding!" Your head snapped up hearing his sarcastic laugh, though it sounded more winded than it usually did on tv. "As one typically does when.. ah shot."

"Y-You've been shot? Where? How did you run from the cops with a..."

"Ahtttt." Joker waved his gun in your face. That was one way to end a conversation.

Here you were trying to be a Good Samaritan and forgot who you were talking to. "This isn't my first rodeo toots. It's just a scratch." To prove his point, Joker jumped to his feet, scaring you with his agility before rightened his suit jacket and looking ready to leave.

You almost believed his act until his leg buckled under its own weight when he tried to walk away. You sprung into action and caught him– well you kept him upright, the wall behind you did most of the catching.

Joker's appearance was tall and lanky but as you held him up you discovered the truth. He was all muscle underneath his tailored suits and haunting visage. You didn't know how to process that new information and wisely steered the conversation elsewhere.

"You need a doctor." You huffed out. Your face was so close to Joker's that you saw his tongue dart out to lick the outline of his grease paint.

"No, I don'T." He stressed the t in don't.

You noticed that Joker articulated certain words to get his point across during his theatrical conversations and deep monologues. As an author you found his speech pattern very intriguing but right now he was being stubborn. "Yes you do."

"Hmm. Me and my.. uh primary care doctor never quite goT along. Let's just say.. he's no longer accepting new patients, if you know what I mean." You did. This was the infamous Joker you were talking to. The physician was probably dead and decomposing in the Gotham River.

But while that disturbing thought danced around in your head, the constant reminder that Joker still had his gun and most likely plenty of other weapons on him failed to deter your crazy decision.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you blurted out the invitation. "My apartment is in Old Gotham. Do you think you can make it that far?"

'Stupid stupid stupid! You have officially lost your mind!' Your inner self screamed after your suggestion. How dumb could you be inviting Joker to your place? This was not a tea party at a slumber party!

Joker was... well The Joker– a madman that killed because it was fun and you opened your mouth and invited him over. The awkward silence stretched on as you waited for his response or for your death. Whichever came first.

"Harboring a fugitive, are you sureee about that?" He asked. You could hear the grin in his words, slick like oil.

"Well, you do have me at gunpoint. I don't think I can just up and leave now can I?"

He let out a chuckle or was it a masked cough? Just how bad were his injuries? "Pretty and smart, I like that." He stood straight, taking you with him, and poked your rib cage with his gun. "Lead the way."

How the two of you managed to walk from Chinatown back to your apartment with Joker’s injured leg shocked you. Even at 2AM the streets were busy with people yet you kept to the backstreets and stayed in the darkness to avoid being spotted.

Joker cracked morbid jokes the entire walk back and when you two crossed the bridge over into Old Gotham, he quickly noted which direction you were leading him to.

"Now here I thought we were, uh, getting along. Care to ex-plain why we're headed towards GCPD?" You froze, feeling his gun dig into your side again.

Thankfully you stopped in an alleyway near Repp street.

Ironic, since this was your original stopping point for your walk but you kept going and ultimately landed in the mess you were in now. Supporting half of Joker's weight while being paranoid at being caught. The realization of how far you walked mentally and physically tired you out. Joker's gun was the last thing on your mind when you turned and snapped at him.

"My apartment is on Quinn street overlooking Grant Park. I'm not dumb enough to lure you to the police, Joker. It just so happens that I live in the same vicinity.

"Ah, so you're just dumb enough to help me. Gotcha."

You sighed and kicked off the building you were resting on. With your arm around Joker's waist and the other keeping his arm around your shoulder, you chose to ignore his insult.

"We're almost there. See?" You nodded up the street to a cluster of apartment buildings. "Do you see that white building with the all glass roof? That's my place, it's the next block over. C'mon."

Maybe the adrenaline rush helped or maybe you were that anxious to get home, but it felt like you teleported Joker to your apartment only to run into another problem. The lobby staff was gone for the day so you didn't have to worry about being outed. The problem was the elevator itself.

Joker noticed your hesitation and rolled his eyes. "What now? Aren't we going inside?" You made eye contact with the Prince of Crime and in your panic, explained.

"The elevator doesn't work at night." He licked his lips, giving you another flash of his tongue. He saw where your eyes dropped to and leaned in closer.

"Will that be a.. mmm, problem for us?" He finally had a moment to appreciate your fear.

A shame it wasn't directed towards him but he admired it all the same.

Your doe eyes took on a pinched edge and the color darkened a few shades as you tried to strategize. Oh but he loved your wild untamed curls that shook about your head. The humidity finally got a hold of them and he happened to like its chaotic state. Though he took an issue with the abuse you doled out on your bottom lip.

He tsked to himself and playfully slapped your cheek. You jumped at the contact. "Hey, hey. Look at me! There she is... Now, will thaT be a problem?"

"Y-Your leg... I live on the top floor."

You watched Joker sigh and crack his neck. It made for a scary sight and you knew nothing good would follow it. Imagine your surprise when he scratched his forehead with his gun (did he not value his life?) and shooed you with it. "Show me."

"Huh? Show you what?" Joker escaped your hold and stood on his own. "Uh.. the elevator, sweetheart."

"B-But.."

"Shhh shh shhhh." He cooed to you softly. "Trust me on this. I'm a man of many talents." His dark glare hinted to those many talents, some you didn't wish to think about..

You nodded and after glancing around for witnesses, ran to the front door with Joker hot on your heels.

You used the nighttime keycard to grant you access and the low hum of the door opening and then closing steadied your pounding heart. You looked over your shoulder seeing nothing but darkness himself patiently waiting for your next move.

Right the elevator. You walked towards the lift and sighed. "Like I said, it doesn't work after midnight. I'm sorry but we'll have to take the stairs."

"Gimme that." Joker said, already snatching your keycard out of your hand.

He flipped it over, inspecting the black device and then the lift and its power pad. You wondered how he was going to override the restriction but he was The Joker for a reason. In less than two minutes he cracked some invisible code and the elevator whirled to life on its way to come pick you up.

You lived here almost a year and never could get the lift to work after midnight. "How did you do that?"

The door chimed open waiting for its passengers, offering much needed light to the dark lobby however Joker adopted his sinister persona again and slowly backed you into the elevator. Your back hit the mirrored wall with Joker coming to a stop in front of you.

You were at a loss in front of his towering height. He didn't break eye contact with you as he stabbed the twelfth floor button on the panel.

Cornered. That's how you felt trapped in an elevator with Gotham City's deadliest criminal. His eyes took on a more greener hue in the artificial lighting and you couldn't look away. His black war paint was smudged a bit from his sweat and it bled into the white, and the distressed look made him even more menacing.

Once again your gaze dropped to his mouth where his scars were covered with red paint. It was probably the adrenaline still raging but you boldly lifted your hand up to touch them. That is until Joker grabbed your wrist.

He looked disappointed for a split second until he perked up with an eerie smile. "You wanna know how I got these scars?" He craned his neck, showing them off but your eyes flickered up to the elevator floor dial indicator flashing two.. three..

"Why won't you look at meee, hmm? Do they scare you?" You turned to Joker with furrowed brows.

"What? No, I actually like them. They remind me of the scars Bill gave.. was it Jess? No, Mallorie at the retreat lodge." You held back your laughter at Joker's deadpan look.

"I'm a writer. I-I write things, m-mostly books and your scars reminds me of a character I created in-"

"Will Hunter Bill. I should've recognized that face of yours. You're Y/n L/n."

Why did your name sound so alluring when he said it? You would think about that later, shock was hitting you full force right now.

"You know me?"

"Hmm." He pretended to think and curled a strand of your hair around his finger in the process. The elevator was slowly creeping up toward your floor but not fast enough. There was only so much of Joker in this close proximity that you could handle.

"You wrote… Distracted By Her Justice did you noT?" He put emphasis on his t's again. His pronunciation of certain words almost made you snicker but the words itself caused your brain to screech to a halt.

Distracted By Her Justice was the first novel you ever wrote during a small internship back home in Blüdhaven. Cindy had yet to discover you but she read the short story and hired you because of it. You then went on to write a few lesser known books and your current hit series WHB.

The fact Joker knew about Her Justice let alone read it horrified you. "How do you know about my first published work?"

Joker swayed on his feet but had enough energy to cup your face. His touch was gentle at first until he tightened his grip on your chin. His unpredictable mood swings scared you as the elevator grew closer and closer to your floor.

What did you get yourself into? You noticed his face paint also covered the inside of his mouth this close up. Maybe that was the reason he licked his lips so much? But why would he wear something that's uncomfortable?

Ignore the fact that you noticed. Seriously, what was your fixation with his mouth? You had other things to worry about like the way Joker sagged his weight on you between the 9th and 10th floor.

He sighed and pressed you more into the elevator wall. You didn't know it but Joker's energy was waning and fast.

Before he bumped into you, his henchmen were doing a terrible job at escaping the authorities. He broke out of Arkham around lunchtime but it took forever getting off the island and back to the mainland. They took refuge in an abandoned warehouse until an anonymous tip ratted them out. Joker's plan was to retreat back to Amusement Mile but GCPD were swarming the place awaiting his arrival. He hated being on the run and the pouring rain wasn't helping his mood.

Another move towards Otisburg resulted in a shootout with the police and although Joker lost a few of his men, he killed more of Gotham's finest.

Yet the shootout continued. Joker hated guns. They were too quick and he didn't get to savor a kill but he was wise enough not to bring a knife to a gunfight. His mind didn't register he was shot until a henchman pointed it out. It was more of a nuisance than anything, but he managed to escape with only three goons at the end of things.

Two would scout ahead while the other secured a getaway car. Joker waited an hour. Then two, but after three hours without the scouts or the getaway car returning, he knew he was alone. Police sirens in the distance made him laugh aloud. Gordon and his men were working overtime tonight.

If he wasn't sporting a nasty gunshot wound, Joker probably would have stayed in his makeshift hideout but he needed medical attention and fast. Wherever this bullet was lodged wasn't good. Perhaps a hostage could help in his situation but before he could scope out his surroundings, his location was compromised. The Canine unit had found his scent and forced him out of the warehouse and onto the streets of Chinatown.

'Head north towards West Mercy Hospital. Snatch a resident on their smoke break; anyone would do.' Joker knew his plan was foolproof but he didn't factor in his blood loss or you getting in the way.

He bumped into you and his remaining energy just gave out. He lost consciousness periodically during your interaction together but you didn't seem to notice.

He was a good actor after all and quickly took control of the situation. Joker was about to force you into finding him a doctor but you surprised him with your offer of staying at your apartment. He checked you out far too many times tonight; he knew rich people when he saw one. Paired with your naïve heart and generosity, this would be too easy.

Only problem? You weren't afraid of him or his dangerous personality, nothing scared you away.

Joker liked that. You were a challenge to crack and ultimately break. Being held at gunpoint shocked you at first but overtime your muscles relaxed and you didn't shy away from his presence, if anything on the walk to your place you snuggled up closer to him.

He noticed your stolen glances and how your eyes always wandered back to his mouth. You were intrigued by him. Like an innocent lamb trying to befriend the lion.

Joker didn't have any plans after escaping Arkham but riding an elevator up to one of his favorite author's place wasn't on the agenda.

He was a man of chaos but also of literature. Studying people's psyche and predicting their next move before it happened took a high level of intelligence. Joker didn't care for elaborate plans (okay maybe just a few) but he liked to be knowledgeable and reading literature regardless of the genre, helped him immensely.

He stumbled upon your oeuvre by chance and read your books in order. He enjoyed The Greeks Among Us for its ambiguous ending.

Would Thaleia embrace her hatred for her own people and annihilate them all or descend back to the human realm to die with her revenge unsatisfied? He loved how the reader got to pick which open ending to believe.

His favorite book of yours was Distracted By Her Justice. You dived deep into the social and political injustices within Gotham but covered up the controversial views by making the characters high school students learning about romance.

It read like a teen romcom but Joker and other like minded individuals knew better. Almost all of your books had a double meaning behind the flowery rom-com plot. He desperately wanted to meet you and talk about your philosophies but why would a normal citizen like you want to meet him? It would never happen.

Then you wrote Will Hunter Bill. Joker knew then you were a scholar under-appreciated in this era. And so young! He could only imagine what you would write as you matured. Your books were based on real life issues that were swept under the rug here in Gotham City and for once he thought someone would blow the whistle and expose them.

Standing in this elevator with you as your e/c eyes took him in, he felt ridiculous for thinking it, but you were probably the only person capable and bold enough to do it.

Unfortunately Joker lost too much blood and he wasn't thinking straight. You were nothing but a naïve little girl reaching out in horror to catch him. Wait..

"Joker! Are you okay?! Please say something!" Just a few seconds ago he was alright, (albeit lost in thought) and staring off to the side.

You knew he was looking at something beyond this elevator when his eyes rolled back and he began to fall.

You caught him for the second time tonight and with perfect timing. The elevator arrived at the twelfth floor of your apartment. The doors opened with a soft ding that gave your stomach butterflies.

You were finally home 

Just a few more feet and you would be at your front door. You took a deep breath and used the last of your adrenaline to adjust Joker's weight in your arms and half carried, half dragged the psychotic clown to your door 

Joker mumbled something inaudible as you fumbled with the key. He was resting on your pocket that held it but after some careful maneuvering, you fished them out. You got it through the lock and with a twist, a gush of cold vanilla scented air hit you before gravity worked its magic and he started leaning towards the floor 

"No no no turn left! Go left!" Somehow you guided Joker to your couch before he slipped into unconsciousness, leaving you alone with a wanted criminal in your apartment. Reality kicked in fast.

"Oh my God. I'm harboring a fugitive."

[mariacallous]

Nationwide protests in Iran over the tragic death of Mahsa Amini, a 22-year-old Iranian Kurdish woman arrested and widely believed to have been beaten by the country’s infamous morality police over a loosely worn headscarf, have partially subsided, though sporadic outbursts of anger continue to spring up on university campuses and in some neighborhoods in larger cities.

Over the past three weeks, Iran has witnessed episodes unprecedented in their dreadfulness: An elite university in Tehran where students had staged protests came under siege for a half a day, and the government’s minister of science, research, and technology, Mohammad Ali Zolfigol, rushed to the campus to brandish disciplinary action against student activists; security forces have unleashed violence against random people on the streets and beat them with batons; at least 40 journalists have been detained just for doing their jobs; a traumatizing internet blackout has cut people off from their loved ones and the outside world; and more.

Since its inception in 1979, the Islamic Republic has been treating the notion of hijab, the Islamic dress code for women, with excessive urgency and as a burning issue with no expiry date. In 1983, the Iranian parliament made wearing hijab officially mandatory and stipulated a sentence of up to 74 lashes for women seen not to be observing religious dress in public places. The law was amended later to impose a monetary fine and prison sentence on the offenders. These strictures have been enforced persistently ever since. Nowhere in the entire legislative universe of the Islamic Republic can one identify a law that the government has judged to be of comparable significance.

There have been junctures in the history of the Islamic Republic when hijab compliance fleetingly ceased to be one of the government’s primary domestic concerns. During the tenure of reformist President Mohammad Khatami from 1997 to 2005, it was less common for the government and state-run media to lecture about the imperative of compulsory hijab, and constraints were not as severe, characterized by less intrusive enforcement mechanisms and greater leeway for women to make decisions about their appearance. But even in that period, the compulsory hijab as a dogma wasn’t reversed. The only perk was that young women had found ways to dress in more colorful, stylish fashions within the rubric of what was allowed.

With the election of Ebrahim Raisi as Iran’s president in 2021, a novel discourse was pieced together that marked a rare iteration of the government’s approach to the Islamization of society. Although sarcasm-infused rumors had been swirling about candidate Raisi’s prospective plans to erect walls in the sidewalks to segregate male and female pedestrians, even those fears about an ultraconservative cleric primed to wreak havoc on civil liberties and make life infernal for women weren’t enough to encourage disillusioned Iranians to vote for his only centrist rival and prevent his anointment.

In an essentially uncompetitive election that recorded an all-time low turnout of 48.8 percent, when only 26 percent of eligible voters in the capital of Tehran cast their ballots, Raisi secured a trouble-free victory, and power across all elected and unelected bodies was consolidated by the hard-liners. He never publicly disavowed the speculations that he would reinvigorate the relatively dormant morality police vans if elected, and only his daughter Reyhaneh Sadat Raisi said in a TV interview during the campaign season that her father would not press ahead with an agenda of gender segregation and that his vulnerability was being a very kind man.

But it wasn’t long after Raisi’s inauguration that the fears became reality, and just as the Taliban started their nation-building mission in Afghanistan by subduing women, the new president of Iran decided to usher in his mandate as the chief executive with a multipronged campaign of relegating Iranian women’s rights to the 1980s. In those dark years, as most Iranians recollect bitterly, owing to an extreme revolutionary fever, women would be arbitrarily assailed on the streets for some strands of their hair being visible; couples walking together would be approached by vigilantes to explain their relationships; car drivers couldn’t play music on their radios if it could be heard from the outside; and VHS tapes of Indian and American movies had to be smuggled into homes to get around strict censorship targeting entertainment.

With Raisi’s ascent, social media platforms of news agencies affiliated with the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps began floating calls about the need to discipline women wearing “bad hijab,” and administration officials kicked off a competition over who could make the most inflammatory remarks about hijab.

In May, Zolfigol, the science minister, made surprising remarks about proper university attire in a speech ostensibly meant to commemorate World Communication and Public Relations Day at Alzahra University, saying that “even in developed countries, nobody enters the university campus wearing beach attire.” It wasn’t clear what Zolfigol was complaining about, and many social media users wondered if any female student had ever been seen on the premises of an Iranian university without a headscarf and long, loose-fitting dress, let alone wearing a swimsuit.

Under Raisi, the Initiative for the Promotion of Virtue and Prevention of Vice—a religious entity tasked with promoting what the authorities believe is the ideal Islamic lifestyle and which was predominantly a fringe, marginalized institution during the Rouhani administration—was given a new lease on life and a budget of 1,180 billion rials (about $3.9 million, as of September) for the 2022-23 fiscal year. The initiative, made up of the most reactionary elements of the government, started churning out regulations one after the other on how women in government workspaces and other public places should dress. But it was not only their appearance that was of concern: Female employees were warned against having nonessential conversations with male coworkers about subjects not related to work and, however surreal it may sound, were discouraged from addressing male colleagues using singular pronouns because in Persian, using singular pronouns imparts intimacy.

The authorities of this religious body, assured of the president’s full support—Raisi told them in a meeting that they should be firm in upholding the law and not be coerced by pressure from the “enemies”—embraced innovation, devising new techniques for how to reinforce mandatory hijab and make sure it is applied as rigidly as possible. They recommended that women wearing “poor hijab” should be detected on public transport and shopping centers using surveillance cameras, and then text messages should be sent to them indicating the financial penalty they must pay. Options for social exclusion and denial of public services were also mooted.

In July, Raisi, the ex officio chairman of the Supreme Council of the Cultural Revolution—a powerful multiagency coordination body working under the aegis of the supreme leader to institute large-scale national policies on cultural activity, arts, and education—issued an order communicating to at least 26 executive bodies that the bylaw on “hijab and chastity,” first proposed in 2006, should begin to be fully implemented. This would involve the Islamic Republic of Iran Broadcasting and the Ministry of Culture and Islamic Guidance producing round-the-clock publicity on the significance of hijab and the security apparatus mobilizing its resources to beef up patrols, arrests, and fines.

The ordinance, as drafted, was nothing new but was meant to tighten the noose around women by dialing up the dress restrictions while implicating more government bodies in pro-hijab indoctrination. Former hard-line President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad first instructed the implementation of the bylaw. For eight years, it was shelved and ignored by President Hassan Rouhani. Raisi mandated its full-scale implementation.

Even in his previous job as the judiciary chief, Raisi was passionate about instigating coercion around compulsory hijab. In August 2019, he lamented the “failure” of government institutions in upholding the laws of hijab, ordering the General Inspection Organization of Iran to submit a report to him on how the different organizations were performing. Jalil Mohebby, a former secretary of the Initiative for the Promotion of Virtue and Prevention of Vice, recently revealed that in 2019, a meeting was convened at Raisi’s judiciary office where some attendees warned that public support for his prospective presidential candidacy might be negatively affected should enhanced hijab restrictions be implemented.

Yet although his enthusiasm for extreme hijab restrictions predated his presidency, the more proximate reason Raisi ultimately embarked on hardening his hijab agenda was to help bolster his wobbly administration, which was suffering a legitimacy crisis, by coalescing the most radical elements of Iranian society around a cause they felt passionate about. He saw agitprop around hijab as a rallying cry that could unite his hard-line supporters. He also wished to deflect attention from soaring inflation, the rising economic costs of U.S. sanctions, the steep devaluation of Iran’s national currency, and his foreign-policy failures by exaggerating publicity on a divisive issue that could generate a cultural gap between the more liberal-minded Iranians who don’t endorse him and his base of conservative loyalists.

But after more than a year of intensified propaganda and reinforced prohibitive measures, punctuated by the viral scenes of violent encounters between the morality police guards and women being shoved, pushed, dragged, insulted, and confronted aggressively, culminating in the heartrending death of Amini, a national reckoning has emerged, resulting in the exact opposite of what Raisi wanted to achieve. Instead of increased hijab compliance in a society that is more submissive and less restive, Iranian women are defiantly removing their headscarves in public and rejecting the entrenched mandate. Even more concerning for Raisi, many religious-minded Iranians are siding with them.

Much to the chagrin of Raisi and his orthodox supporters, excessive investment in hijab rabble-rousing and stiffened regulations have miscarried, demonstrating once more that fundamentalism in any form produces catastrophes. Now, the entire country is in turmoil, and more and more young men and women are growing hostile to the tenets of a religion that was never meant to be promoted through intimidation. What was supposed to be the trump card of the Raisi administration has become his soft underbelly with a situation that has clearly spiraled out of control.

As the distinguished Turkish scholar of Islam Mustafa Akyol wrote in his 2021 book, Why, As a Muslim, I Defend Liberty, “when you shove religion down people’s throats, those people may end up detesting religion, which is exactly what is happening today in many corners of the Muslim world.”

“[B]y denying people their natural right to liberty, oppressive Islamic regimes and movements are triggering the greatest wave of apostasy the Islamic civilization has ever seen.”

[turtlethon]

Turtlethon Extra Slices: “Shredder’s Revenge“

Welcome to the first in an occasional series, Turtlethon Extra Slices! This sub-project will cover media connected to the 1987 incarnation of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.

Shredder’s Revenge, developed by Tribute Games and published by Dotemu, was released on June 16, 2022. This is the latest in a long, long line of TMNT games released since 1989, but in particular acts as a spiritual sequel to Konami’s original arcade release from that same year, its 1991 sequel Turtles in Time, and their various home ports and spin-offs.

Breaking News: the Foot Clan is back! The Turtles, April and Splinter learn from a broadcast by Bebop on TV that the villains are taking over the Statue of Liberty. It’s up to our heroes to travel through New York, battling waves of the bad guys on their way to final encounters with Krang and Shredder. This time around April and Splinter join the Turtles as playable characters in their journey; completing Story Mode also unlocks Casey Jones for you to use.

While the core of the game draws upon the Turtles coin-op titles for inspiration – and the arcade mode plays in much the same manner – the infamous original TMNT game for the Nintendo Entertainment System hasn’t been forgotten either. Story Mode features a map screen in which the Turtle Van bobs around the city, allowing the player to freely select their next mission in much the same manner as the top-down sections of that first 8-bit title. In this mode, each character accumulates experience and can level up over time, increasing their fighting abilities. This aspect of Shredder’s Revenge has kept me coming back even after completing it, as there’s always incentive to play through again in order to fully power up the team.

Further easter eggs can be found scattered throughout in Story Mode, as players are encouraged by allies of the Turtles to recover lost items. Irma requests that you find her missing diary, while Burne and Vernon have you recover items for Channel 6. Later, you complete similar missions for the Punk Frogs and Neutrinos. Sadly, you don’t really get anything for doing so beyond the acknowledgment that you successfully completed the task.

Speaking of the Punk Frogs, an ongoing gag throughout Shredder’s Revenge has them apparently now being considered celebrities, their popularity equivalent to that of the Turtles in our real world back in the nineties. Other familiar faces from the show pop up across the different stages, ranging from obvious inclusions like Baxter Stockman and Rat King to more obscure inclusions like Tempestra. I would have liked Tribute to go even further in this direction, incorporating the roster of the Archie TMNT comics, the toy line and maybe even some characters from the Red Sky era of the show like Lord Dregg, but it seems that a deliberate decision has been made to avoid any of that and concentrate on the golden era of the cartoon instead, with a few nods to the live-action movies here and there.

Cameos aren’t just restricted to the bosses: characters from the show can be seen scattered throughout the game, such as Burne’s girlfriend Tiffany appearing in a crowd scene running out of the Channel 6 building. Honestly, I would have liked even more of these little shout-outs to have been incorporated, but I concede that going too far in that direction would be a lot of effort and not enhance the playing experience for most players in any tangible fashion.

Having revisited the Super Nintendo port of Turtles in Time recently, it struck me how developed the play mechanics for Shredder’s Revenge are by comparison. Though the Turtles in the older game each had unique attributes, their core fundamentals remained the same, and the moves available to the player were largely restricted to the same basic strikes and throws. This time around the number of manoeuvres available to our heroes has expanded greatly, and the player will need to learn to use them effectively to progress. (Something that I initially ignored, to my cost!)

Voicing Donatello, Raphael, Michaelangelo and Leonardo are the actors from the 1987 cartoon. Barry Gordon, Rob Paulsen, Townsend Coleman and Cam Clarke all make welcome returns here and lend their voices to the supporting cast too – Rocksteady, for example, is also handled by Clarke. Most of the other characters aren’t so lucky. There’s no Renae Jacobs as April or Peter Renaday as Splinter. Some of the other characters have voices that are nothing like their original portrayals, and there are instances where I was genuinely surprised that famous bits of dialogue such as Metalhead’s “I’m going to mangle you green slimeballs!” or Leatherhead’s “ah gah-rawn-tee!” didn’t make the cut.

While the voice acting gets the basics right and leaves it there, the soundtrack is phenomenal. Tee Lopes had previously been responsible for Sonic Mania’s music, and continues to do excellent work here. Each stage’s track has its own vibe, drawing not only upon previous Turtles games for inspiration but also the mid-to-late eighties and early nineties, the two eras which TMNT itself is rooted in. A vaporwave mall setting is accompanied by a tune reminiscent of Madonna’s “Into the Groove”, while a street setting’s theme evokes Michael Jackson’s “Beat It”. As the player draws closer to the Technodrome and the game’s final confrontations with Krang and Shredder, the themes become more dramatic and foreboding, making the journey of the Turtles and their allies feel like a genuinely big deal. Fantastic stuff, and I’ve been listening to the soundtrack regularly even when not playing. I think this the aspect of the game that will live on long after everyone has tired of playing.

Is Shredder’s Revenge the best TMNT game ever? Turtles in Time (either the SNES or arcade versions, depending on who you ask) seems to have been considered the standard bearer up to this point. In the conversation also is the fan game Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Rescue-Palooza!, though as an unofficial project it’s debatable as to whether it counts. For me, at least for now, Dotemu have crafted the definitive video game for the 1987 Turtles. I’m looking forward to squeezing at least one or two more play throughs of story mode in before we all get to revisit the classic games in Konami’s Cowabunga Collection, which arrives on August 30th.

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Shredder’s Revenge is available now for Windows and Linux (via Steam), on Nintendo Switch, Xbox One and PlayStation 4.

[dwellordream]

Room by Emma Donoghue. For the past five years Jack has lived a happy, simple life in Room- the only world he’s ever known- with his devoted Ma. But after his fifth birthday, Ma reveals a strange story- Room isn’t the whole world. It’s a shed behind the house of a man she only knows as Old Nick, who abducted her seven years ago. Ma plots a daring escape with Jack’s help, but neither are prepared for what comes afterward, or what they leave behind in Room.

If the Shoe Fits by Julie Murphy. Shoe-obsessed Cindy is ready to launch her career as a fashion designer, but the fashion world is less than welcoming to fat women. At the urging of her stepmother, a reality TV producer, Cindy agrees to participate in the latest season of Before Midnight, a show in which one bachelor chooses his future bride from a plethora of women. Cindy hopes to use the show as a launchpad for her fashion career, but finds herself falling for the charming bachelor along the way.

The Society of Shame by Jane Roper. Kathleen Held thought the most humiliating moment of her life was when her politician husband’s infidelity was captured on camera and shared with the world. But that same shot also captured a period stain on her pants- something that quickly eclipses the cheating scandal. Ashamed and outraged, Kathleen is desperate to escape the public eye- until she meets the mysterious Society of Shame, who encourage her to embrace the public notoriety and use it to her benefit.

Survive the Night by Riley Sager. Traumatized by the murder of her best friend, Charlie decides to drop out of college and return home to Ohio. She arranges a cross-country ride with a fellow student, Josh, but as the night stretches on, begins to doubt whether Josh is who he says he is- because he might just be a serial killer.

Die a Little by Megan Abbott. Mild-mannered schoolteacher Lora King has made a comfortable suburban life for herself alongside her police detective brother, Bill, in 1950s LA. The siblings’ close bond is interrupted by Alice Steele, a wardrobe assistant from Hollywood with a mysterious past. Suspicious of Alice, Lora resolves to expose the truth about her sister-in-law- no matter the cost.

Mortal Follies by Alexis Hall. Debutante Maelys Mitchelmore appears to be under a nasty curse designed to humiliate and hurt her. The only one who can help may be Georgianna Landrake, a suspected witch and murderer. Determined to uncover the identity of her curser, Maelys finds herself drawn even closer to Georgianna, and more and more at risk of losing both her life and her heart.

Gods of Jade and Shadow by Silvia Moreno-Garcia. Consigned to life as a scullery maid by her wealthy, cruel family, Casiopeia dreams of adventure and luxury. When she accidentally releases a captured Mayan god of death, she finds herself accompanying him on a quest across 1920s Mexico to restore his powers and return to the Underworld.

Libertie by Kaitlyn Greenidge. Libertie is the daughter of a famed mother, one of the few female Black doctors in 1870s America. Penned in by her mother’s demanding expectations, Libertie rebels by eloping with a young, ambitious doctor, returning with him to his family’s mission in Haiti, but finds that the freedom she seeks is still out of reach, and must choose what it means to balance love and independence.

Standalone Book Recommendations

the following books do not have *direct* sequels and are not part of long-standing series. ie. they can be read on their own without having to commit to reading multiple sequels or prequels.

Fingersmith by Sarah Waters. In 1860s London, orphan Sue Trinder, daughter of a murderess, is raised by the tough but kindly Mrs. Sucksby and her adoptive family of thieves. When a con man known as the Gentleman offers Sue the chance of a lifetime to change her fortune forever, she takes it, even if it means posing as a lady’s maid and tricking an innocent young heiress, Maud, into a life of imprisonment in an asylum. However, Maud, her eccentric bibliophile uncle, and their lonely estate of Briar are not quite what they seem, and Sue quickly finds herself in over her head, battling between her pragmatism and her growing feelings for her target. 

Blonde by Joyce Carol Oates. Dreamy and romantic young Norma Jeane Baker dreams of true love and a life on the silver screen, much like her erratic mother Gladys. After Gladys is institutionalized in a psychiatric hospital, Norma Jeane is shuffled from orphanage to foster home and quickly taught that life is not a fairy tale, and even beautiful and kind princesses rarely get their just rewards. After marrying at age 16 to avoid returning to the orphanage, Norma Jeane begins work as a model while her husband serves overseas in World War II, and resolves to make a star of herself. The path she takes will catapult her from one doomed romance to another, nearly crush her soul, and make her a worldwide sensation- not as herself, but as bottle blonde flirt Marilyn Monroe.

Mexican Gothic by Silvia Moreno-Garcia. Clever young socialite Noemi wants nothing more than to pursue a university education and break a few hearts while she’s at it. When her father asks her to pay a visit to her cousin, who has married into a reclusive family of Englishmen and begun to send mysterious, alarming letters begging for help, Noemi reluctantly agrees. At High Place she finds that her cousin’s in-laws are more than just high-class snobs; their very house itself seems to be imparting sinister messages in her dreams, and her cousin is unrecognizable. Determined to get to the bottom of this mystery, Noemi resolves to discover the secrets of High Place, but learns that High Place is just as interested in dissecting her as she is it. 

On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous by Ocean Vuong. Raised by his scarred and often violent mother and his mentally ill grandmother, Little Dog begins to recount his childhood in Connecticut and unpack the trauma inflicted on his family by the war in Vietnam and their subsequent flight to America. As he ages into a young man, Little Dog begins a romance with his best friend Trevor, and begins to understand the snare of addiction, sexuality, and masculinity that has both of them in its grips. 

Sexing the Cherry by Jeanette Winterson. A surreal tale of magical realism in 17th century London, Sexing the Cherry contains many stories within the frame story, which is that of a massive woman accompanied by dogs, and her adoptive son Jordan, taken from the river as an infant. Dog Woman and Jordan journey through many fairy tales, including that of the Twelve Dancing Princesses, who wish to rewrite their myth.

The Corinthian by Georgette Heyer. Faced with the prospect of a loveless marriage, Sir Richard Wyndham goes out for one last night of drunken revelry. Along the way he meets Penelope Creed, who is also fleeing an arranged match of her own. The two conspire to get Penelope back to her countryside village, where she plans to elope with her childhood sweetheart. Penelope poses as Richard’s young cousin, but their plot is complicated by thieves, murder, and an overturned stagecoach. 

Here Lies Arthur by Philip Reeve. Gwyna is nothing and no one- a serf, a slave, an orphan. By sheer chance she is brought into the service of the bard Myrddin, who travels alongside the young warlord  Arthur, who hopes to unite Britain under his reign. From Myrddin, Gwyn learns they can be whatever they choose to be- even if that means shedding identities the way a snake sheds its skin. Along the way, he forges his own destiny- as a wizard’s apprentice, a page boy, a queen’s handmaiden, and finally, the one who will make Arthur the man into Arthur the legend. 

Neverwhere by Neil Gaiman. Richard Mayhew is new to London, but already worn out by his shallow life in finance. One fateful night, he breaks dinner plans to come to the aid of an injured homeless girl. For this act of kindness, he is consigned to Neverwhere, an alternate reality where dangers lurk down every darkened alley, and myths and goddesses walk the streets of a city trapped in every time and place at once. Richard must decide whether he wishes to return to his normal existence, or make an uncertain home for himself among the exiles and misfits of Neverwhere- if he can survive that long.