#also i know ive given vague hints at what i look like

[greyeyedmonster-18]

I saw the ask you answered about fashion and essentially being bullied out of it and against it and I just

This is so very true, and I don't know that I ever even realized until I read what you wrote. I always just thought I'd decided to gravitate towards what most consider 'lazy' and 'slouchy' garb because it's comfortable, that I never put in a lot of effort (sometimes even as a teenager and in my early 20s) because I convinced myself none of it mattered. And it doesn't, so long as I'm comfortable in what I wear, I get that, I do. But there are times when I see someone wearing something super cute and I'm like "I want that."

But every time that happens, there's this voice in my head telling me it's pointless. I'd never pull it off so why try? People will look at me weird, judge me for attempting to wear something so completely unlike myself, something that might not completely suit who they've come to view me as. Strangers will critique and pass their own judgement, and that's a terrifying thing. And the answer is always 'yeah, right, exactly that.' And that's so incredibly unfair, especially since I know there are so many people out there with this exact same mentality.

I think how you're raised and what you experience as the world shapes itself around you as you grow plays a huge part in this. If you're told as a child not to wear something because you don't have the body for it, no matter if they're trying to do it out of kindness, it implants something in you that is difficult to ever leave behind. If you're bullied for you clothing choices by peers, it puts a bad taste in your mouth for ever trying again. If you don't look like the models on the runways or the photoshopped celebrities in the magazines, you're failing, don't bother.

Jeans and tshirts and comfortable, less-stylish shoes are a choice, and they are a phenomenal one. But at some point, for some people, it becomes less of a choice and more of something forced into existence through a lifetime of disappointed outlooks and half-muttered rejections. No one should feel like that.

And that's all I'll say on the matter. I know you're busy. You don't have to answer this at all, I promise you don't. I also realize that doing this on anon sort of defeat the point of what you said, and maybe I shouldn't have done it like this, but that's the fear still screaming. So here I am, rambling nonsense in your inbox because it was on my mind.

All the love, Dr Grey. <3

no we are absolutely going to answer this because you're so right.

this right here: "Jeans and tshirts and comfortable, less-stylish shoes are a choice, and they are a phenomenal one. But at some point, for some people, it becomes less of a choice and more of something forced into existence through a lifetime of disappointed outlooks and half-muttered rejections."

yes. (also, do you write fic? i feel like you're a mutual of mine who was nervous and sent it to me on anon??? I PROMISE IM NOT SCARY!)

more babble below the cut

the voice in your head saying "you can't pull something off" or "that wont look good on me" is so real. and its so hard to fight against and ignore and a million other things. and that voice is so directly tied to fashion. and I think that's often why people resort to jeans and t-shirts and sneakers because they're TIMELESS and no one is going to take issue with it! no one is going to tell you X doesn't look good on you or you can't pull X off because its jeans and a t-shirt and nothing matters!

and like, i also have these thoughts. but like...and this is also one of the only pieces of advice I ever have to offer-- do it anyway.

just do it anyway. even if its not perfect. even if you're unsure if you can pull something off (going to leave the "it doesn't look good on me" out of here because fashion isn't about what looks good on a specific body or certain person, its about creativity and expression), or unsure if you'll feel good in it, do it anyway. that's the only way you know.

i recently made an executive decision to only wear suits/tailoring to weddings after years of feeling uncomfortable in jumpsuits and before than dresses. and i went to one in june--had a gorgeous emerald green suit set, black top underneath, ready to go-- and was feeling so uncertain if i was going to be able to pull it off. if the guests were going to judge me for showing up in a suit. if it wasn't going to be enough.

but i did it anyway. and it paid off. because I was comfortable the whole night. i got loads of compliments. and notably a lot of other guests said "oh I could never pull this off, but you can"

BET.

bet.

i get in trouble a lot for saying this IRL, but like...honestly, nothing matters. nothing matters. wear the cute outfit you see on someone else. buy the cute heels and wear them to the grocery store on a Wednesday morning. put on a red lip to drink coffee.

wear trousers instead of a skirt. wear a suit to a wedding. it is so hard to shake the voice in your head. i spent years hearing one that said No One is Ever Going to Take You Seriously if You Dress Like That. and spent years wearing boring ass shit (i wish i still had some of my blouses from then back in the day because my fucking god.) and shit that didn't feel like me.

and like..

idk.

its so much better to Do You.

#asks #grey answers #this is a fashion blog #also i know ive given vague hints at what i look like #i know this and i also know a bunch of you are turning your noses up and rolling your eyes #because OF COURSE i have the privilege of thinking this way and doing shit anyway #and like...yes but also no #everyone has their own relationship with their body and im not different #i dont get dressed in the morning trying to make myself look small or aesthetically pleasing according to beauty standards #because if that were the case #i wouldnt wear heels ever because im literally massive with them on and Tol Women arent okay #I wouldn't wear trousers either because SKIRTS are professional for women! or if you wear pants they better be black or navy or grey #not pink or purple or leather #and like of course i can just turn the voice in my head off because i present a certain way #but like nah it doesnt work that way #everyone can be brave. as STUPID as that sounds.

[cybermeep]

had sat with a group of three dudes today.. all of them ive known to some extent, with one being an acquaintance i invited over. acquaintance with curly hair & freckles & glasses. he looks like a deer… is that socially appropriate to say? i mean it in the sense he has brown eyes & has a very soft facial structure, also is very quiet & reserved & kindhearted.

anyway, i had sat with him along with another friend and i guy i know of vaguely. asked friend why he liked history to get a complex & long answer using words like geopolitical and axis powers.. heard these terms before, but don’t always remember what they mean off the top of my head. he seemed very happy to discuss the topic with someone and i was more than happy to listen. didn’t really discuss much of what i liked as him and his friend were off showing each other funny photos & such, ones he called personal so i dropped it. got to talk with other acquaintance with the curly hair & deer-like appearance and whatnot. got to tell him he was a good person & that he deserved just as much as he puts out, cue his thanks. nobody at the table wanted anything, though.

..i had written a long paragraph here, one of truth & usual observations, before i realized it sounded.. very pathetic. since cut from whatever may actually release, but will have it known i paid for a girls items whom i don’t even know of well simply because of needing some sort of person to converse with as i went to buy something i wanted. asked her if she was alive & spat out word vomit because i had nothing elegant or truly important to say, simply just wanting to fill a void. i do hope she enjoyed her snacks.. sheldon cooper also inevitably got discussed today, awful constant. friend at table asked about my shrimp plush to which i said his name was sheldon.. to hear, “oh, like sheldon cooper?” in a knowing tone of voice. i groaned and had to restrain myself from having my fists bump against the table loudly, so absolutely done with the discussion of this man & done with his existence. yes i know he’s fictional but i cant stand him. made my annoyance known to have my friend utter thats the point, which… i guess…. But still. i said young sheldon isnt good & he disagreed…….. i cant take anymore of his stupid baby face. SHELDON, SHELDON. not my friend, i mean the fictional character sheldon cooper. sorry. anyway, i feel like if i hear his name another time i will explode & am immensely aggravated two separate people like this show. not aggravated in some kind of vendetta or actual spite, just annoyed.

anyway, having discussed history stuff with a friend & whatever the outcome of that was has made me realize he’s.. interesting, i think. he has 45 hawaiian shirts and likes history & i am very much unsure of his status on trans people which is rather scary, but hes interesting. the only day i get to talk to him in a given place is the day 6 in our rotation; others hallways & texts. overall feeling towards him is neutral fascination & a hint of apprehension, although curious to talk to him more.

as for other events, gave a friend a thank you note and gifts for her comfort she gave me two days ago. was going to give it at the last period of the day, but realized that was unneeded when she was standing in the hallway.. also tedious.

#cybers tangents

[yuikomorihotline]

Hey admin!

I have a question for you, as you are Yui admin. What do you think of her?

Would you make any changes to her character? Do you like her clothes and tastes in clothes? She likes fashion soooo you know 😋😋💕💕✨✨

Trigger warning, Essay with bad structuring, mentions of sexual assault and victim blaming.

And please note this is entirely 100% my opinion and by no means am I correct about anything I mention.

i ) First and foremost, I adore her as a character and as a protagonist, however, I have some criticisms. This sounds extremely and unintentionally harsh, but even she's not unworthy of criticism. There are factors that I am to consider i) that she's significantly weaker than the antagonists ii) she uses her faith as a coping mechanism iii) she's essentially a victim of 'fate' iv) she's an otome heroine, therefore she's written in a very particular way.

Yui stands out from a lot of heroines because she's less of an insert of the player and more of an actual character. She has a name, has an appearance that stands out, and has a vague and somewhat established backstory. Which also stands out from the antagonists.

However, she cannot be given as much personality or character building as the average female anime character because the player couldn't necessarily resonate or relate with her otherwise.

In my opinion, Yui is intended to be the dramatic foil in Diabolik Lovers, because she's everything the other characters aren't : persistent, open minded, gentle and optimistic, despite her seemingly hopeless situation. She as well shows significant amounts of innocent defiance towards her abusers.

If you look at Yui critically, then she is in fact a more likeable character, who is well written in the sense how much she contrasts the much crueler antagonists. I think that people dislike her because in comparison to the vampires, she's very weak because she's not as apathetic and cruel as they are. To me, she's such a godsent girl to highlight how awful the boys truly are.

The 'she doesn't fight back' mentality just feels like blatant victim blaming. Even when people say 'she puts herself in those situations' or 'she was looking for trouble', do they even know what that sounds like? I understand she's a complete fictional character, however, if the girls of this accursed fandom feel completely comfortable with what they're looking at and continuing to blame Yui, I think they should confront their internalized misogyny or misogyny before they project that mentality onto SA victims in the real world.

----------------------------------------------

ii ) I wouldn't change much about her personality or appearance, since her kindness is a key factor in Diabolik Lovers.

Personality wise, I would make her more outgoing, much like the popular girl trope, and it would be pleasant to see a shoujo protagonist be the popular girl, who doesn't have any 'pick me girl' aspects. As well as being more popular and outgoing, I'd write her to be more playful with everyone.

Appearance wise, I could see some very subtle hints of 'gal fashion' on her if she was more fashion forward. In my mind, I think that if the other characters have an odd sense of fashion, there's no reason why she shouldn't. It would add more to a more fantasy or otherworldly atmosphere.

In all honesty, I would have her wear her hair in a messy bun or messy high-ponytail, with small hooped earrings. I could see some soft pink makeup with quite the shimmer, it would be noticeable, but not too much that it would make her not look like herself.

As for her fashion in the game, it's only okay, it could certainly be improved because it looks rather ugly to an extent.

Thank you for reading if you have 💗💗

#long post #important #admin #asks #diabolik lovers #yui komori

[eternalcantarella]

Entropy - Chapter 2: Horseman of The Apocalypse - Joker/Reader

Entropy

  Summary: We all seek for some measure of uncertainty. Working against the mob is a dangerous game, you might as well be signing a death warrant. You would think it was all by a stroke of chance, the multiple run-ins with Gotham’s Jester of Genocide. When crooks begin to make more sense than do-gooders ― that’s anarchy. He’s no ordinary crook, however. And he’s still wrong. At least that’s what you'd like to tell yourself.

Word count: 17.9k

  A/N: Medical specifics - I know the rod of asclepius is more for professional healthcare usage and caduceus is for commercial usage, but I chose to use a hybridisation of both asclepius and caduceus rods instead because its symbolism was slightly more in line with what I want to portray. Sorry for the inconsistency with practical usage! This chapter took me a while to write, and I didn't expect it to turn out this long. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy it! 

  Inspirations: Trafalgar Law’s speech on the new era (One Piece), Amaya & Aiko no Akatsuki's Deisaku writing - Pinky Bruiser (Deisaku fans should totally check this out), Town of Salem's Plaguebearer role.

Available to read on AO3! Check my blog description for link to my AO3.

###

He sat in the long corridor, his legs crossed. His posture was laid back, with his tablet propped up on his lap. He tried to get used to the stiff teal plastic seat, secured to the wall behind him, but it was extremely uncomfortable and he kept readjusting his position. He tried to distract himself with the forthcoming plans for the week ahead with Gotham Press Holdings, refreshing his email to check for updates from his superiors. Unfortunately, he could not find the urge to open those mails. He leaned forward in his seat, his hand instinctively searching for the familiar spot on his chin.

  The thin and bitter smell of antiseptic and cleaning products was invasive, acrid and stinging as it caused him to look away and stare at his other hand, twisting and knotting it as if doing so would hold back the unrest threatening to break within him. A man was whisked on a hospital bed right past him down the narrow corridor, and he was greeted with the disturbance of coughing, hacking and wheezing in the Emergency Department waiting room. He found the closest antibacterial hand dispenser, which was fortunately right beside him, and started working it like a gambling addict hitting up a VLT machine.

  In a disorienting ambulance ride earlier, claustrophobia had closed in on him. He stood hovering over the stretcher, trying to rationally articulate the details surrounding your predicament, trying to discard feelings of his rising worries for you. However, with every bump the ambulance made, his unease peaked higher. As expected, the paramedics had briefed him that prompt delivery to the Emergency Department should be a priority, and had administered their prehospital care procedure onto you. 

  While otherwise appearing to be asymptomatic, the fact that you lost consciousness was alarming. They had secured the airway as required, delivering high-flow oxygen by cupping a respirator mask over your face, obtaining IV access simultaneously. There was a tenseness to his muscles, his head a violent whirl of confusion, trying to organise the newly found chaos in his life. They had also administered a beta-antagonist as a nebulised treatment for bronchoconstriction, a paramedic explained to him as she spritzed short bursts of liquid spray up your nostrils. 

  And here he was, waiting. A suspense ate at him internally while he awaited the ED doctor’s examination results.

  While he was willing himself to check on instructions from Gotham Press Holdings, his hands betrayed his line of thought, and he instead found himself looking through his archived emails. His eyes glossed over the subject title.

  ‘Application for Blake Accounting Consultancy - Junior Data Analyst Applicant; Resume Included’

  He crinkled his eye, his lips stretching against his index finger resting against it. He always found himself unknowingly going back to this fateful letter, at different, random times with no real reason connecting them with each other. He didn’t like to express it, both visually and verbally, to you that he had come to care for you deeply. And he was wondering if he was regretting ever holding back and hiding his actions to show that care. With the current uncertainty, and your life at stake, it’s always easy to see in hindsight that there were many things he could do differently. He clicked onto the email he archived, going through the motions that took him back to simpler and more pleasant times. He indulged himself in the light breeze of familiarity and nostalgia. He would always have a sentimental longing and affection for the past, especially when it came to you.

  He remembered looking at your application and how absurd he thought it was at first glance. He vaguely recalled the contents of his job listing on Craigslist, having clearly stated that a bachelor’s degree in Computing or Data related fields was a prerequisite and lowest qualification one must have at the very least. Yet your highest form of education was trade school and coding bootcamps.

  This was almost ludicrous in his eyes, that he found it to be amusing. He was about to dismiss your application to sift through the others, without even looking at your resume. However he felt compelled to click on it, probably out of some sick sense of curiosity and humour, he supposed. He wanted to see what laughs or kicks he could get out of this.

  A condescending sense of jest bubbled in his chest when he started reading it. Perhaps this was just a joke applicant, he thought. Well, humour me. However, he found that the more he read into it, the more his smile started to falter. Being a data analyst requires very specific skills. You had recorded a very all-encompassing list of individual qualifications from courses painstakingly taken and they were all relevant to the job scope. Technical, analytical, math and creative skills. This was impressive for a non-uni graduate. You had also taken the initiative to contribute to opensource projects, demonstrating a fire and drive for the role. Not to mention the attention to detail and the amount of work put into organising this resume, to frame and market yourself in the best way possible. You had done a lot of research into this, evidently.

  From this, he could sense that being a data analyst was something you wanted to be strongly at this point in time. And while strongly wanting to be one is often not enough for a data analyst, you had the puzzle pieces arranged and chops to back it up. Perhaps what sealed the deal to offer you an interview over coffee was the thing that set you apart from other applicants. Other candidates wrote about what they wanted from this job. No one cares what they want. No one cares that they want to “leverage their skills working with a highly effective team”. Yours was focused solely on the employer’s benefit, rather than for personal gain. And one thing in particular had caught his eyes to show you were perhaps a best fit for the company.

  ‘To build an ethical and positive culture for the company from the ground up and inspire change in Gotham.’

  Given the current legal and political climate in Gotham, especially with the battles between parties of power going on, no one would care to write statements like this. No one even knew if they were submitting applications to companies deep within the mob, entrenched in corruption, or held hostage after having had debts to repay them. The mob had an iron grip on affairs at every nook and cranny of Gotham City. These types of statements were too fluffy, too idealistic, and often were not considered on job offers. However, things were changing. In a world where caped and masked vigilantes were jumping off roofs and Falcone was locked up in Arkham, he had hope. Politics were becoming more transparent, as candidates like Harvey Dent stepped up to the plate. And he would stop at nothing to make the most of this hope for a better Gotham. He had to believe in a better Gotham. He clenched his wrists and swallowed. He wanted to realise this idealistic vision he had. 

  “This mask for the anger I’ve been hiding… It’s not enough.”

  “Then channel that anger to something good, I dunno. Frankly speaking, it’s not that hard.”

  You two were sitting around a mahogany coffee table, with two plush sofas clad in burgundy fabric offering you two the luxury of sinking back into the comfort of its softness. However, you two were on the edge of your seats, not allowing yourselves to be lulled into its false sense of security and let your guards down. Your eyes were trained on each other, the air electrifying. You took a sip from the mug of your macchiato, eyes never leaving his as you tilted your coffee mug. You looked at him through your lashes, hiding behind a coy smile. Intrigued by your boldness, he quirked a brow in amusement. He sighed and pushed his laptop away from him on the table, finding no real need for it.

  “Charming. If you’re so impressive, why don’t you tell me why you hadn’t attempted college?” 

  This definitely did not feel like a job interview. He leaned back, arms folded, a smugness tugging at the corners of his mouth. He was challenging you. You sure as hell weren’t one to back down.

  “Well, maybe it’s because some of us aren’t so lucky to have our parents afford our college fees, just so we can chase our dreams.”

  In a saccharine voice, you leaned forward, tilting your head, no longer smiling. Your lips showed the hints of a pout. John Blake stared at you, slightly confused for a moment. Was this a personal attack or something?

  “That’s very valiant of you. However, Miss, if I had to remind you of something,”

  He maintained his composure, leaning forward with a slight tension in his jaw, his smirk not falling.

  “You don’t know the first thing about me, darling.”

  You remained neutral, staying in the same position.

  “Well, I’m sorry if I offended you.” 

  He had been the one to poke you first, you thought, slightly indignant. You bit your lip and spoke again, treading dangerously.

  “If I had to take a guess, I would say you feel threatened by me.”

  John Blake raised his brows at you, possibly in disbelief at your brazenness. He lightly clenched through his teeth. Were you perhaps right?

  “Far from it, kid.”

  You glared at him for this obvious condescension. If you were anyone else, the blatant disrespect you showed him earlier would have immediately gotten you rejected. But the chemistry between you two was palpable, even then. His eyes looked at the laptop in front of him. His eyes avoided yours. He looked away, and nonchalantly he asked you.

  “Don’t you think it’s impossible to really foster an ethical company in Gotham? I mean, it’s a pretty corrupt city.”

  He stirred his coffee to feign apathy. This question wasn’t important to him. You furrowed your brows and shook your head, your voice raising in tone. You felt your indignancy rise. Affronted and outraged. What kind of question is this…?

  “What? Gotham is full of people ready to believe in good and compassion.”

  You had his attention now. And he stared at you, his eyes hard.

  “Hey, don’t you think that’s pretty naive of you?”

  “You can say that all you want about me. I don’t gain much from being an idealist, but I have to do the best I can.”

  Your voice softened towards the end. This was perhaps the first time you allowed yourself to be vulnerable in this… “Interview”. The man in front of you shifted his weight in his chair and stood up. This prompted you to stand up as well, befuddled and just mindlessly mirroring his body language.

  Satisfied with his find, he stared down his nose at you with an unreadable expression. He stuck his hand out towards you.

  “Well then kid, I believe we have a deal.”

  Dumbfounded, you took his hand hesitantly, and he gave your hand a firm squeeze, bobbing it lightly in the process. Your jaw was slightly ajar and you were confused. After all that, you were in a state of doubt. Did you really just pass this… interview?

  “Check your email for updates.”

  He picked up his coffee, downed the rest of it and held his cup up towards you, a last gesture signifying his leave. He set it down against the table with a clink and left swiftly with his laptop. 

  You will become my weapon. My tool. You will fight for me, and in exchange, I will ensure that you realise your vision, and sate your burning desires.

  He smirked. A diamond in the rough indeed.

  He was stirred out of his daze when he heard the sound of the sliding doors of the emergency ward. It revealed a doctor dressed in blue short-sleeved scrub top and pants, with a white lab coat. She held a clipboard and wore a surgical mask. The mask could not hide the sunkenness in her eyes, fatigued from being overworked during her residency. Blake stood up immediately seeing her, desperate to know the outcome of your medical evaluation.

  “Sir, I’ll cut to the chase. She will have to remain under our observation for the next forty-eight hours, and we will periodically image her with serial chest radiographs.”

  Taking a moment to take this news in, he nodded, signalling for the doctor to continue.

  “We seek your understanding, patients may develop significant signs and symptoms for as long as thirty-six hours after exposure. We checked for burns in the nasal cavity and tested for particles.”

  She sighed and stared at her clipboard, shifting her weight onto her other foot. Her tennis shoes squeaked.

  “Burning was spotted, but minimal. Her airway functions are still relatively stable. Our test results revealed in her system a complex of zinc chloride and the fear gas toxin compound found in our water supply months back.”

  “I understand. Her condition is stable enough and she will recover, right?”

  He looked her in the eye, searching for any signs that would betray her jaded features.

  “I’m afraid nothing in this world is certain, sir.”

  Her voice was somber. His brows knitted. What was that supposed to mean? Realising what she uttered out, she quickly switched her expression to mask what she just said, to a more amicable one for professionalism.

  “But of course, nothing is likely to happen to her. We have databases storing synthesised antidotes and counteragents to the compounds we found.”

  He sank, his muscles losing their tension as he deflated. At least there was some solace in this situation.

  “You can check back around the same time after two days, if you’d like. She will be placed under our care til then.”

  He nodded and took that as a sign to take his leave. He grabbed the laptops from the seats and gave himself another couple of pumps of hand sanitiser solution. He sighed and felt the tension in his forehead subside a little. You always had to cause trouble for everyone involved, didn’t you? He turned his head and looked at you through the glass panes, lying unconscious on a hospital bed. He gave a snort and didn’t slow down his pace. 

  Luckily for you, you had someone who didn’t find you to be more trouble than you were worth.

###

He found the darkness strange. In the heart of Gotham city, he had grown used to having the warm, yellow-orange glow of streetlamps outside his window, light filtering in through the gaps in the curtains and seeing them whenever he walked down the street. It felt safe. Come to think of it, it was a privilege. When he took a first drive through the Narrows, there were no such safety blankets in the form of regularly spaced streetlamps. He continued staring up at the Bat-Signal, its rays projected an emblem. 

  It was shrouded in darkness. Gotham City is a bustling, urban metropolis. The signal was alone in the night sky, not a single star there to accompany it. Light pollution makes us unable to see stars in big cities. The bat was cursed to be alone in the dark. It was the only way he could exist, anyway. After all, most sightings of him caught on tape were filmed around the Narrows.

  He combed a hand through his honey blond hair, while the balmy breeze smeared against his face. He heard footsteps. Immediately, he whipped his form around, hands affixed tightly on his hips.

  “You’re a hard man to reach.”

  He walked forward, trying to seem cordial, as much as he could be. His posture was strained, however, his neck craned forward from waiting too long. He walked forward, closer to the figure and swung one arm loose, by his side. He sized him up. This was the first time he had seen him up close, and he simply remained silent. They regarded each other for a cold moment. He couldn’t expect much from him, even a response would be too much, not without Gordon around.

  He almost blended in with the darkness. His suit mirrored the plated armour of specialised jousters, but with a much more modern and practical design. He looked rigid and reminded him of a man from medieval times, a mounted warrior with ideals of chivalry and a code of conduct befitting for a nobleman. The difference was, he did not work with the state, and was in no way a perfect courtly Christian warrior.

  I believe in Harvey Dent. People needed to believe in something, just as he believed in the Batman.

  His presence, despite being mostly subdued and shadowed, did invoke a bearing to be idolised. If he weren’t Gotham’s District Attorney or the up-and-coming choice political candidate, he might have even been star-struck and giddy-headed at the sight of him. He scoffed at this. They were of the same standing in the city of Gotham, on equal footing, and they both knew it. He could feel it in his stare.

  They waited.

  The jarring sound of the door clicking open broke the uncomfortable silence. He studied Gordon, who looked just as miffed as he did. He tried to get Gordon’s attention.

  “Lau’s halfway to Hong Kong.”

  Gordon ignored him, storming forward to switch off the Bat-Signal. This rubbed Harvey Dent the wrong way. He was a little vexed.

  “You’d asked. I could’ve taken his passport―I told you to keep me in the loop.”

  Gordon was aggravated by his unpleasant overbearing insistence on being involved in the Gotham City Police Department’s investigations. He raised his voice.

  “All that was left in the vaults were marked bills. They knew we were coming, as soon as your office got involved-”

  Gordon was motioning with his hand. He waved it around temperamentally, emotion clearly clouding his judgement and choice of words. Dent felt his blood pressure rise and he definitely would not stand for these accusations against his team. He felt a vein jutting in his neck, tensing as he matched his voice level to reach Gordon’s.

  “My office? You’re sitting there with scum like Wuertz and Ramirez and you’re talking-”

  He jammed a strained finger at the ground as he stressed his words. He paused for a moment. Realisation in a recent finding gave him the upperhand. He sneered. This was turning into a full-blown argument.

  “Oh yeah Gordon. I almost had your rookie cold on a racketeering beat.”

  He jabbed more accusatory fingers directed at Gordon. God forbid his argumentative habits from the high court show through now. This was making things a lot worse.

  “Don’t try and cloud the fact that clearly Maroni’s got people in your office, Dent.”

  Gordon’s statement was final and harsh. They stared each other down. This was going nowhere. The night breeze blew against them. The Bat was silent. Quietly, he stood and analysed whether he could really trust both of these men to solve crime in Gotham together. The wariness and doubt was palpable. What makes them think they could make him trust them, when they couldn’t even trust each other?

  Dent didn’t know how to respond to this. He went silent. He couldn’t dispute or disprove this. The Maronis’ got their reigns deep within all walks of this city.

  Gordon sighed, giving up. If they couldn’t have transparency at this point, they could forget about asking for Batman’s help. He would not accept this if they were to only hinder his goal. It was embarrassing, to say the least. They would only appear to be a joke to the man. He had to relent, for starters.

  “We couldn’t detain him. He has too much power. We can’t conclusively accuse Lau at this point, and we were denied prior warrants on him. We have no data on him aside from pure speculation.”

  Looking down, Gordon bit on his bottom lip, his facial hair caught between his lip. He tugged at his pocket with exaggerated movements, looking like a jovial dad who thrived on telling dad jokes, pulling out a scrap of notes. He skimmed through it. Harvey Dent’s hands were still on his hips, gripping at his hipbone. He turned to look at the man in the dark suit.

  The three of them stood in formation, on the rooftop of the Major Crimes Unit, circling each other. They formed the three pillars of justice in Gotham. All unyielding in their beliefs of their methods of crime fighting, and their ideals. Coming to a compromise seemed near impossible moments ago.

“We need Lau back. The Chinese won’t extradite a national under any circumstances. Not that we even have the right documents to prove his involvement with the mob.”

  Batman took this chance to respond, for the first time.

  “I have no jurisdiction. I believe I personally have enough proof to track that rat down.”

  Harvey Dent raised his brows a fraction. The gall of him to talk about legal power or authority having no control over him, right in front of the DA no less. If he didn’t know better, he would say he was boasting about operating outside the law. Even if he was a vigilante, that was a bold statement. He liked that.

  “If I get him to you, can you get him to talk?”

  Batman’s voice was deep and raspy. Dent did not expect his voice to be like this. The corner of his mouths tugged a bit. This was his area of expertise.

  “I’ll get him to sing.”

  Nodding for further assertion and poise in confidence, he said so knowingly. Gordon unfolded the scrap of notes handed to him by his officers. They had brute-forced their way into the systems of the recent bank heist at Gotham National Bank. Apparently, they had digital tracks of code and graphs as potential sources of evidence for this case from a foreign system. The department, however, was not specialised enough to interpret this data definitively.

  “The GCPD only recently uncovered leads to prove Lau’s dirty work in the mob, but I suppose it’s better late than never.”

  This caught Harvey Dent’s attention. He signalled for him to elaborate.

  “We traced the source to be devices registered under the Blake Accounting Consultancy company.”

  Bringing a finger to his lip, Dent bit against it lightly. He pondered

  “We can do this concurrently while Batman forcefully extradites Lau. We need to do this fast, however. Set up an interrogation with this company, as soon as possible.”

  Dent and Gordon looked at each other. For once, they saw each other eye to eye. Gordon took in a deep breath, and nodded, this time with a lot less hesitation than before. The Bat looked at them, his focus flitting between the two, and pressed his lips together. Maybe there was hope in this after all.

  “We’re going after the mob’s life savings, things will get ugly.”

  Gordon inclined his head, indicating the urgency of this harsh truth. Gordon gave Dent a hard stare, a direct warning to the man. A pretty-boy working high up in the office, who had never gotten his hands dirty like that in the life of a city cop. He had to know what was in store for him, and Gordon wanted to see if he really was all that serious about this, rather than being purely concerned with racking political points.

  “I knew the risk when I took this job, lieutenant.”

  Harvey Dent leaned back, seeming a tad bit offended by his warning. As if he didn’t know already. Hell, someone had even pulled a gun on him in the courtroom. In Rachel’s words, as Gotham’s DA, if you’re not getting shot at, you’re not doing your job right. He decided to let it go.

  “How are you getting back in-”

  He directed his attention back onto Batman. He vanished into thin air. Dent was at a loss for words. How dysfunctional this agreement between the three of them seemed. He dared Gordon to give him an explanation. Do I really want to know, he scoffed. Gordon cocked his head derisively, a wry smile in place.  

  “He does that.”

  Pretty crude sense of humour, even for someone flying from building to building with a cape. He relaxed his upper body, hands still on his hips. He looked at the ground. He gave an audible groan. He was going to need a cold shower after all this―This absolutely baffling and absurd confrontation. It almost seemed comical. Well, he couldn’t complain. After all, he did ask for it.

###

It had been a while since you’ve woken up from your blackout. You could only see darkness. 

  Distant static noises from the television muffled in and out through your ears. When you cracked open your eyes, they still felt raw and fluttered back shut repeatedly from your drugged up state. You had no idea where you were.

  “-according to eyewitnesses, each man wore a clown mask.”

  You gripped the bed sheets. This news was… unsettlingly familiar. You felt a mild stinging pain on top of your hand with the restricted movement. It felt like plastic taped against your hand.

  “-used grenades to intimidate the hostages into submission.”

  Suddenly everything came flooding back, the feeling of fear re-imagined. You tore your eyes which were sealed shut open. You remembered the clowns. And the clown beneath the clown mask. And the sight of a live grenade beside you. You stared up at the ceiling wide-eyed, the whirring sound of a ventilator a droning hum beside your ear. You reached up to your face and touched the plastic sterile respirator cupping over your nose and mouth.

  Oh. You were in a hospital. It took a while for you to register this.

  You looked at the television and saw Gotham Tonight News. Your thoughts immediately shifted to John Blake. He had saved your life. Your eyes desperately searched the room, darting around all corners. You only saw other patients as you were in a public ward, and in your movement you unknowingly hit a button on your hospital bed with your elbow. Distant beeping noises of machines could be heard, with the occasional coughing and hacking. The feeling of grogginess was slowly subsiding. You heard footsteps coming.

  In your silent hope, you half-expected it to be John Blake. But much to your dismay, it was a doctor. She held a clipboard and wore a mask that was tucked under her chin, and a white clinical lab coat. She offered you a warm, hospitable smile, despite the tiredness that dragged down her sunken eyes.

  “Miss, I see you have woken up. We can let you rest for a while before we discharge you, you slept for longer than we have expected.”

  Longer than they had expected? How long were you out? You needed answers. You resisted and slowly tried to sit up. You gestured towards your respirator and flailed your hand around slightly. She seemed to understand you.

  “Ah, I understand. Eager to get out?”

  She continued smiling tiredly. She dislodged the mask from behind your head and took it off your face. You felt a drastic change in pressure as you tried to adjust to the current atmosphere, taking even deeper breaths and sputtering slightly. You suddenly felt breathless. She let you take a while to get used to this before working on the tube that went up your nose and down your throat. She pulled it straight from your nose, much to your horror, and you felt the friction of it sliding against your pharynx. You could have sworn you felt blood trickling down your throat. Excruciatingly, you let out a prolonged sob the more she pulled onto it. When she was done, you panted, using the back of a hand to wipe against the saliva that dribbled around your mouth.

  She took your other hand in hers and tore off the IV access, effortlessly and with little pain around that area. You stared at her behind tearful eyes. Nurses and doctors were so amicable yet did actions like this with that much intention and precision. It was daring, courageous and you guessed it took a lot for them to not be squeamish. You licked your chapped lips and proceeded to thank her.

  You looked at the golden badge pinned on her breast pocket. It was the Caduceus symbol. The omnipotent Staff of Hermes. A staff once carried by Hermes in Greek mythology, slender and splendid, entwined by a serpent coiling around the body of the staff in a downward spiral. The wand of healing. It was beautiful, magnificent, if not a bit eerie and otherworldly. You sucked in a breath. You were lost in thought. Must we really fall prey to the deceptive trickster of Eden in order to achieve greatness? Medicine is a holy tome, the all-encompassing, for the most glorious knowledge in the world. 

  Break the rules.

  To achieve greatness, you must know the truth, and to know the truth, you must take the forbidden fruit for the knowledge of all things good and evil.

  And that means walking away from the lies you were told your whole life.

  Your eyes glazed over, starry-eyed over the dreams of a past life. You stared at the healthcare worker with eyes of green. 

  No, that dream simply isn’t possible.

  Disillusionment tore at your eyes. No, it really wasn’t.

  She returned you your set of clothes from before and you changed out of the hospital gown. You were given a brief rundown of your condition, as well as pictures and radiographs of chest scans. You had suffered minor burns down your air passages and suffered from acute zinc chloride and fear gas poisoning, but the counter-agents had already been administered. Luckily for you, the actions taken against the fear gas were swift and that prevented long-term effects from creeping into your system. You would hate to be plagued with images of that darned clown for life. Soon, you found yourself at the counter, ready to be discharged. You groaned inwardly at the hospital bills this stay would rack up. You would experience mild discomfort and difficulty breathing for a while, but it wouldn’t be anything serious. You guessed that you really did owe Blake one for this time.

  Speaking of whom, you would have expected him to at least pay you a visit this one time, seeing as it was in fact a weekend. If you hadn’t gone through that terror that previous day, you would have felt a petty disappointment in him, for you felt that you were important enough for him to do that much for you. But this time, you felt a bit worried. You chewed at your cracked lips, hoping that nothing bad had happened to him while you were out. 

  You signed the relevant documents and walked towards the entrance, ready to head out when you suddenly saw a head of familiar, clean cut chestnut hair walking towards you. He wore a navy suit with a cool-toned pink tie. You felt a warmth bubble inside of you when you smiled at him. Boy were you glad to see him, and he had made it to visit you after all. You were about to reach out to him and say something, but he stopped you in your tracks only to turn you around and walk you in the same direction as him.

  “Hey kid, glad to see you’re out and all, but we have no time right now. You’ll understand when we get there.” 

  His jaw had a greater tension to it than it did normally, and his dark features were serious and silent. He didn’t really have a smile gracing his lips, but his eyes showed a hint of relief seeing you well and recovered. You were confused by this and felt a slight dejection constricting at your chest. What was with him and wouldn’t he be happy seeing you? You furrowed your brows for a moment and avoided his gaze. He handed you your laptop he stowed hastily by thrusting it into your hands. You fumbled with it and nearly dropped it. You felt your blood boil slowly, you thought to yourself, oh no you’d better not expect me to work overtime like this. You stopped in your tracks.

  “Hey―You really think I’m going to work for you at this hour, under these circumstances? You’re out of your mind.”

  He simply continued walking, not slowing down his pace. He only turned his head behind indifferently, regarding you coldly, then returned his gaze in front of him.

  “You’re not working for me today.”

  Your jaw agape, you stared at his back that was getting smaller by the second, incredulous. You’ve had it with this caginess, he was tight-lipped. Why couldn’t he just tell you anything at all? You pulled at your hair and ran ahead to catch up with him, the heels of your pumps clacking against the hospital floor. At this, you felt a fiery burst pulsating down your throat and windpipe. You ran out of oxygen very quickly and sputtered for more, the friction of air against the burn marks up your nostrils raked mercilessly through your nerves. It was obvious you couldn’t do much physically for a while. Your footsteps slowed down, but Blake’s did not. You guys had perfect communication most of the time and today was one of the rare times you couldn’t tell what he was thinking. You pleaded again, between agonising hacks, clearly vexxed.

  “Could you... at LEAST tell me what’s going on-”

  He stopped suddenly, at the west-wing entrance of Gotham General Hospital. You caught up to him, about to lose your mind at him. You gawked, your gaze landing on the sight in front of him. Your brain stutters for a moment and your eyes seem to betray you. To say that you were shocked was an understatement. You wanted to turn to Blake to confirm that you were indeed working for these people, but you couldn’t find it in you. There stood two of the most authoritative men in Gotham, hands on their hips, feet tapping impatiently. They weren’t facing each other. The vibe felt a little off. Gotham’s White Knight, Harvey Dent, and Lieutenant James Gordon. 

  “This is your Junior Data Analyst, Consultant Blake? I hope you had a speedy recovery, Miss.”

  Jim Gordon adjusted his spectacles and nodded at you, his brows frowning, a sorry expression written on his face.

  “We uh, apologise for bothering you on such short notice, but we hope you can understand.”

  “Pleasure to meet you, the name’s Harvey Dent. I’ve heard a lot of good things about you,”

  Harvey Dent stuck a warm hand out, smiling affably as you took it to give it a firm shake, shifting his eyes onto Blake at the last sentence. He was charming, just like the clips of him you’ve seen on television. You expected no less, but this level of charisma was unprecedented. You introduced yourself and smiled hesitantly, unsure, before you turned to look at Blake, hoping for an explanation. He looked at you and nodded reassuringly, the first time he had shown any real emotion to you this whole time. That made you feel slightly more relieved. The two men still didn’t exactly look at each other. Did they have some kind of beef with each other…?

  “We’re not going to waste your time and get to the point,”

  Gordon ushered you out of the hospital and into a cop car. This was your first time in one, and you were sure that you weren’t in it for illicit reasons, after seeing how John nodded at you earlier. It still unsettled you a little bit, you couldn’t be too sure. You had a read on the atmosphere after your initial shock subsided, and it was grim and urgent. You did not like this energy, no one says anything unnecessarily, probably to save time. It’s no wonder Blake was acting so unusually secretive, and uncommunicative. You felt bad now for blaming him. Blake and Harvey Dent sat to your left. Gordon took the front passenger’s seat.

  You looked up outside the windows. It was dark outside much like the way the cop car’s leather seats and roof were painted black. A return back into the concrete jungle was imminent.

  “We need your combined efforts in decoding whatever work you had on Gotham National Bank.”

  You loosened your grip on your laptop. At least you weren’t in trouble for anything. You tried to maintain eye contact with Jim Gordon through the rear-view mirror, his kind yet profound looking eyes looking deep into yours. You could almost feel his burdens undoing into you. He had a weight on his shoulders and immense responsibilities you could not even dream of imagining. Gordon was the open-book type of person, evidently.

  “Oh, is it the one proving Lau-”

  “Yes, Lau’s fraudulence and involvement with the mob. He’s still in Hong Kong. Your data could really help us with his case and get him to talk. We need to take out the big dogs.”

  Harvey Dent interjected. You turned your head towards him, and you saw his profile with his strong nose and golden hair. The golden boy of Gotham. Normally, you would be rather bothered by someone who cuts you off like that, but it felt different with Dent. Even you would defer to such absolute authority and apparent righteousness at a pressing time like this. From all his campaigns and court hearings, you could tell he was sincere in his pursuit of goodness in Gotham, he just overflowed with integrity and honour. He embodied that All-American charm, handsome, deep blue eyes monumental with some form of knightly honour. A heroic presence, almost like the kind Robert Redford sort of had. He shifted his cleft chin in thought, a hand to his temple, before he looked at you.

  “Can you present us a full analysis of your findings and write out a report by tonight?”

  He raised his brows a fraction, looking at you pleadingly with his blue eyes, lips stretched slightly with a gentle half-smile. 

  How could you say no when he had asked you with such sincerity? While he appeared to be brash at times, it was a quality that came with the job of being the city’s persecutor. It couldn’t be helped, you supposed.

  After all, wasn’t this a dream of yours? To serve in the movement for change in Gotham.

  This city is dying. It’s rotting.

  No, it was rich land for the seeds in the car sitting right beside you. And you had a part to play too, a golden opportunity had presented itself.

  “I already planned to expose that little rat, I didn’t need to be told.” 

  You looked away, snorting. You felt a slight tightening in your chest, and you cursed at the breathing difficulties caused by the smoke bomb. Blake eyed you from the corner of his eyes, trying to hide that twinkle, and his cheeks aching from holding down the pull of the sides. Harvey Dent paused, lightly taken aback by your statement, quirked his lips downwards in an arc, nodding his head unexpectedly.

  “Well then, the youth these days never fail to surprise me. Welcome aboard, Miss.”

  “Listen Mr. Dent, you’re still considered a spring chicken compared to those insufferable old farts we tolerate on a daily basis.”

  You smiled. Harvey Dent let out a hearty laugh within his chest at this joke you cracked. It did well to ease the tension for critical times like these. You did consider him to be part of your generation, at the forefront leading this revolution. John Blake looked over at Dent, adding onto your statement.

  “She’s right, you’re cut from the same cloth as us, you’re our peer. And you are the cream of the crop, the very best of us. Gotham is changing because of you.”

  “Well, I feel very flattered, but I’m not the only one. It’s all thanks to the Batman.”

  You grunted, a rumble through your chest, ignoring the pain. You’d agree to a certain extent, Batman was just the beginning. However, Harvey Dent was the culmination of all this. He was the hero with the face, the hero grounded in reality and tangible change. Batman can only go so far without the help of Harvey Dent.

  “This is inspiring stuff and all, but are we forgetting something? Or someone? Or an entire generation above you?”

  All of you turned your heads to Jim Gordon in the front seat. On the rear view mirror, Gordon had an expectant look on his face, his lips underneath that mustache pressed together in a thin line. The three of you in the backseat felt a light feather ticking your insides, threatening to break free at your throats. You all chuckled weakly, subdued laughter as you all darted your gazes, looking away at all absent corners of the cop car. You hid the humour in your voice with a stinging cough. Heaven forbid you all make light of the situation at a time like this.

###

You cleared your throat, feeling the lingering effects of the smoke on your system, the noise resounding off the washed out concrete brick walls, frosted white with an almost steely-blue. The small room made you feel sick and oppressed, with its air-conditioner temperature set to an isolating sixty degrees fahrenheit. You stepped back, the soft clicks of your heels hitting the concrete, non-tiled floor as you brought up a finger. It shuddered slightly, and you raised it up to point to the projector screen fabric hoisted on the wall, the shadow of your hand looming over the makeshift light projector setup the GCPD had provided, sending ripples through the fabric.

  The room felt like a prison cell, almost deliberately designed to make you feel alienated and scrutinised. A bare bulb hung from the ceiling, a fluorescent lighting irradiating through the room with a cool toned jarring brightness that made you squint a little, yet not completely illuminating the dark shadowy corners of the squarish room. A grey rectangular table sat in front of you, with Harvey Dent and Lieutenant Jim Gordon sitting back cross legged in their foldable plastic chairs, while John Blake sat hunched over on the other end of the table, furiously typing out a report on his laptop. You guessed you couldn’t expect anything too fancy from the Major Crimes Unit of Gotham. You needed to push through this presentation, despite the building physical discomfort following your predicament from the day before.

  You made eye contact with Jim Gordon, with a little bit of difficulty, but you still pressed on to make your point. He had his hands clasped together, sitting between his thighs, and avoided your gaze to favour studying the data presented on the screen. Harvey Dent had a hand wrapped around one side of his cheek, and an elbow propped on the table, resting his head against it and listening intently. You had been given unreasonable demands to give impromptu presentations rather frequently at work, but definitely not within an hour of getting discharged from the hospital. Your nerves fired off a little bit and you tried your best not to let your voice betray you. You tugged your blazer tighter around your waist, blaming the cold for this action.

  “I think we have a pretty strong case here. This is all the information you need, reallyㅡto charge Lau, especially with the insights from Mr. Blake. He was a forensic accountant.”

  Gordon and Dent shared a pointed look at each other, expressions unreadable, before Gordon turned back to you to nod a gentle ‘thank you’. You took this as a sign to give them ample space for their own discussion and consolidation, and you let out a huge sigh, walking swiftly over to John Blake after being granted the permission to be dismissed. You dragged another foldable chair and scooched over to sit beside him. You leaned over to look at his laptop, then at him expectantly. He ignored this and continued looking at his screen.

  “Little nervous there, weren’t you kid?”

  You puffed your cheeks and let a stream of air out. You were punished for this motion as you felt searing pain up your larynx and flaring at your nostrils. You were about to lose your mind on him but you remembered the presence of the other two justice hounds in the room. Blake snickered inwardly. You supposed two compliments in two consecutive days was unheard of from the man. You hadn’t been silly enough to hope for that. Yesterday, what he said to you at the bank was possibly the most acknowledgement you had ever gotten from him for your worth as his partner, and you will take that to your chest and run away with it.

  “Yeah, yeah. Why don’t you try giving a presentation after literally being discharged from the hospital?”

  He decided to let it go and brush this off, his smile still not withholding however. He scrolled down the document he had impressively typed out. It seemed he had been working on it while you were out. It was way too detailed to have been put together in the short amount of time you were here, while you gave the presentation. You raised your brows, he was on his A game tonight, more so than usual. Working behind the scenes, after hours. You wondered what sparked this escalation in work ethic and quality. This little rivalry between you two felt slightly more visceral.

  Covertly, you stared over at Gordon and Dent, who looked cold and calculative under the subtle hue of blue-toned lighting. They seemed to be in some kind of disagreement, brows furrowed and stubborn towards each other. Did this happen often? You chewed your lips and tapped lightly at the table. You could see Blake at the corner of your eyes rubbing his chin again. While you two were confidently secure in your abilities as analysts and consultants, working with public servants required a different form of rigour. It required a different kind of convincing. Not one that was only concerned with profits and risk-bearings, like your previous clients, but something that held ethical weight and certainty. You two had done something that could be classified as immoral, and you weren’t sure if this level of convincing was enough to gloss over that fact. Judging from John Blake’s body language, he shared the same sentiments. You took in a deep breath, despite the pain, desperately needing the extra air to catch up on your shortness of breath.

  Gordon and Dent signaled for the two of you to come over and show them the written report. You could feel your heart beating quickly, hammering against your chest. The desire to please the authorities made your senses go wild, and it would only serve as a testament to your abilities if you could help the highest forms of justice in the city in these respects. Blake took this chance to explain briefly the navigation of the report, and to bring focus to the more important details of your presentation highlighted in the report. This would allow them to utilise the information more effectively and constructively should they ever need to take this to court. This once was his area of expertise, after all. Gordon and Dent gave each other another look and they looked pleased. Well, at least they came to a consensus on something. They had their attention on you again after the mutual confirmation.

  “Astounding work you two,”

  Harvey Dent smiled politely at you. Your erratic heartbeat calmed as you felt heat radiate off your face like a hot pan. Slowly the high of authoritative validation crept within your system. His words definitely felt like honey.

  “I’m gonna need you to come with me to County tomorrow, after hours, to account for certain data and ledgers regarding Lau’s case. Could you spare me some of your time, Miss?”

  You gulped. It was extremely hard to say no to this man. You weren’t going to turn down a request like this anyway, if it meant one step closer to saving Gotham City. A little sacrifice for something you love was nothing. You nodded tentatively at first, charting a rough impression of your weekly schedule in your head. You had work the next day and it would be very hectic for you. Blake looked impassive. You couldn’t get a read on him. Harvey Dent leaned back in his chair, threw the documents on his lap back onto the table and stood up to be eye level with you.

  “Well, that would be all for today. I need to rush back, so I thank you all for your hard work.”

  After Harvey Dent promptly left the room, Gordon shifted the laptop in front of him and stood up. The room felt significantly emptier with Dent gone, he had quite the presence. You looked around the room again, eyes scanning the white brick walls, squinting as your gaze briefly landed on the bare LED light bulb. You silently waited for Gordon to collect his thoughts.

  “Consultant Blake, you're not going off the hook so easily, I’m afraid. The GCPD needs your help in tracing the mob’s money while it is being stowed away indefinitely.”

  Blake pressed his lips into a thin line, giving a single nod of understanding. Gordon shifted his weight to his other foot, pondering. He cast his eyes downwards, then back onto Blake and you.

  “You know, you two enjoy fighting against crime, right? I see something very special in you youngsters. Well, I have a proposition for you... So, here’s some food for thought.”

  Gordon looked a little more intently at you two.

  “We really could use your skill sets for our ongoing and future investigations for our fight against organised crime. We-uh, don’t receive nearly as much funding as we need from the state… So our financial forensics department is not as developed as it should be.”

  He paused. You saw those worn down eyes again, beaten down by the world around him. He was an old soul, and he made no effort to mask the worry in his eyes, his forehead grazed with permanent crease lines, perhaps from constant frowning. You could see however, the silver lining behind his dark irises. The one thing not jaded, remaining pure and undiluted, was his hope in enforcing justice for Gotham City. That is where his true passion lies.

  “We don’t have enough people with the relevant technological or knowledge based capabilities. I know this is too much to ask of you… But the offer is always open―I could negotiate a permanent spot for you two on the team, if you were to change your mind in future. That is, if you want to, of course-”

  Gordon fumbled a little with his words, his hand waving about slightly. John Blake held a hand out, saving Gordon from his apparent awkwardness as he felt it unbecoming. Cops should at least have some pride. It would not do well for a lieutenant to be appealing to two private sector workers for help like this, it was almost completely undignified. Had the cops really been pressed thin to the brink? Pushed into a corner? Here, he had thought that the state of Gotham was improving immensely. Evidently, the fine balance of all powers in Gotham has been knocked over. Something was brewing. There was a storm coming. 

  You interjected.

  “We’re, uh, very flattered! Thank you, Lieutenant Gordon. We will definitely keep your words in our hearts, and keep your offer in consideration.”

  You all regarded each other for a moment, unspeaking―completely aware of the implications of all this. This whole agreement, and Gordon’s open proposal to you. John Blake stared hard, his jaws fixed in position. You sensed the energy in this room and it held an excruciating weight. You didn’t even know what you all were waiting for. You clenched your fingers at the hem of your blazer. You looked discreetly at John Blake, not really knowing what to expect. As if you didn’t want him to catch you staring.

  “It’s been nine months since the first appearance of Batman. Since Falcone’s incarceration.”

  Blake started, his voice sure and certain.

  “Did anyone actually accomplish anything?”

  His voice echoed through the room, piercing through everyone that stood. He stepped forward slightly. His gaze flitting down to the laptop in his hand.

  “All Batman did was end Falcone’s era. The Police Headquarters rounded up new forces. The mob replaced the figurehead at the top. Dent’s attempts to take down the top dogs have been, to no avail. The big-timers didn’t take any action.”

  You adjusted your collar, uncomfortable and unable to stare at him for any longer.

  “Sure, petty crimes have been reduced, one by one. Things have changed. But at the root of it all… Nothing’s been fixed.”

  He pondered wistfully.

  “It was like… everybody was just preparing for something.”

  Blake adjusted his tie.

  “...And now you’re here, Lieutenant Gordon―You and Harvey Dent. Asking us for help, knowing very well that this-”

  He waved his laptop around in his hand.

  “-data right here, was gained unscrupulously. And it’s not too far-fetched to believe you two are corroborating closely with the Bat, despite that official policy is to arrest the vigilante known as Batman on sight.”

  John Blake tilted his chin downwards, looking up at Gordon, a purse evident on his lips. You flinched a little.

  “You are resorting to outlawed measures to fight the outlaws. And you’re telling me.”

  Gordon could not find the right words to this. He responded carefully. He would have to humble himself and swallow his pride for the sake of Gotham’s future, and he had in fact pitched you all a rather unreasonable request. He hoped to be able to earnestly appeal to the parts of your hearts, no matter how small, that cared deeply for the city of Gotham. It had to be there, he assumed, otherwise you wouldn’t have aided in the investigations as readily as you did, at the drop of a hat.

  “The mob had… squeezed us to the point of desperation, as much as I hate to admit it. I realise the first step to having a successful collusion with all parties involved is to drop the act and acknowledge this.”

   You gulped, and finally said something. At this point, the tension in the room had made you forget the slightly debilitating pain in your trachea.

  “Frankly speaking, we crossed the line first. We aren’t the only ones, and soon they’ll be hammered to the point of desperation, Lieutenant Gordon.”

  Gordon grunted, a hum low in his chest.

  “I know very well.”

  John Blake, for the first time in this confrontation, allowed a smirk to grace his lips. He looked over at you.

  “You always told me, kid…”

  His gaze on you was unnerving, and compelling.

  “...that the new era of the daring ones is coming along with an unstoppable swell. Batman is just the beginning. He... broke the gear. And we’re not going to be the only side taking up arms, fighting back.”

  He shifted his gaze back onto Gordon.

  “Expect a storm. Expect escalation. Expect a resistance like we’ve never seen before. There’s no turning back.”

  You watched as their eyes locked, their hard expressions unyielding. Gordon was obviously not new to this line of thought, but perhaps no one had been courteous enough to engage with him in discussing the implications of such. He was at a loss for words, but not caught by surprise. His deeply emotive eyes stirred, and he spoke quietly.

  “I am well aware of all this Consultant Blake. It’s not anything new to me. But I am prepared for anything and will stop at nothing. I do the best I can with what I have.”

  Blake’s eyes softened a little, but still retaining their edge, knowing fully well what all of you had gotten yourselves into. The very moment you had engaged in these investigations and accepted the request in lending your contributions, you had placed all of your lives at stake. He stuck a palm to him out of habit, always one for the conditioned nicety. 

  “We have a deal, then. We will lend you our tentative aid. ”

###

Your teeth gnawed slightly at your lips as you made your rounds around the main office room in the MCU. The administrative office had been closed long since you arrived here. You reorganised your datasets you gathered from Gotham National Bank, and printed out the required evidence for your visit to County the next day. It occurred to you, with the impromptu presentation you delivered earlier, that you needed to revise the formatting of your work before it was court-ready. You stood by the printer, listening to the squeaking of ink running across paper and the whir and buzz of the mechanism inside. 

  You exhaled, the first time this night since being discharged that you could take a brief moment of respite. You had a newfound respect for crime fighters in Gotham, if this was what their lifestyles consisted of. Gordon hadn’t even left the MCU, he resolved to return to his private workspace at the top floor of this building. Justice never sleeps, you supposed. You looked out the window, groaning then pinching the bridge of your nose. It was a special kind of blackness out there, one you would probably only see during the witching hours. You wouldn’t be able to get the rest you needed to recover properly, since you probably only had a couple hours of sleep at best before you had to wake up to head for work. Then, when you were done for the day, you would have to rush over to County, grab a bite on the go for dinner if you were lucky, and turn in late again.

  Never would you have thought that you would find yourself working on the side of justice in this way, having a direct hand in adjusting things in Gotham for good. Although, it did seem like a sort of calling to you, in a way. Things were a little bit too convenient, and pieces fell into place together too easily. It was like a feasible chemical reaction in a way that was bound to happen at any given point in time, so long as time had stretched on. You tapped your fingers against your chapped lips, deliberating for a while.

  You did always wish you had a reliable way of measuring what was guaranteed and what wasn’t. It would provide you with a greater control over your life than what you had over the past few years, one that you sought after.

  Serendipity.

  You weren’t exactly too sure if you could call it that.

  Your thoughts wandered back to your coworker and boss, John Blake. He was pretty much done for the night and didn’t have much else to wrap up on. He would wait for you at the porch of the MCU. He had been acting rather strange. Ever since you first saw him, he had been pretty cold to you. But now, it was currently walking along a fine line of coldness and slight, dare you say, hostility. You supposed that he had always been pretty insufferable to you. God, since the start, he had been pretty provocative even when you were sitting round the coffee table at that one boujee cafe. But it had, well, mostly always been in playful jest, or friendly banter. You supposed you always did feel the strife of competition with him, always needing to prove something to him.

  You groaned again, feeling a pinch behind your eyes. You had to save all this thinking for later when you weren’t exactly sleep deprived. You ran a final check through all your printouts, languidly flipping through them with an index finger. Satisfied, you tapped the width of the entire stack a couple times against the surface of the wooden table, aligning the sheets within. You slotted it in an empty file supplied by the GCPD, and headed to the entrance with the large front doors.

  Harvey Dent and Gordon sure made the impression on you, though you did have your doubts towards them. Their relationship seemed… unnatural, kind of strained. You could even describe it as seeming dysfunctional. And it was obvious to you. You couldn’t really blame them, though. With corruption levels so high in this city, you wouldn’t know who to trust either. You would love to have faith in the system, but if they were so good, they wouldn’t be turning to you and Blake.

  You stepped out into lights cast upon the porch by the warm streetlamps, lost in your thoughts.

  John Blake.

  You squinted upon the intrusion of the flaring streetlamps. You saw two streetlamps in the spot where there should only be one.

  What the hell?

  You rubbed your eyes with your free hand. You couldn’t hear anything.

  Where is he… anyway?

  You strained your eyes open again.

  The streetlamps were like a desert mirage. You saw the two balls of light separate slightly, then start to converge.

  Your hair stood on ends, from the back of your neck to the entirety of your arms. Something scraped along the inside of your ears, a high-pitched screeching that bounced within your ear canal.

  You blinked, your shoulders tensing up. You took a step forward, your breath faltering.

  Your feet wobbled slightly as you made your first descent down a step. You gripped onto your laptop and file even tighter. 

  No…

  You broke into an all out sprint, almost nose diving down the long flight of stairs, the sensation pulling at your lungs disorientating.

  Does it depress you? To know that your reality is based on comforting lies?

  Poor little girl... You think a safe space will actually help.

  You felt something black and long, emaciated fingertips reaching into your ear and scratching lightly. They were charred and felt like the bark of scorched trees. They were lanky and skinny like tree branches, about a foot long and grazed at the walls of your ear canals.

  If you stare into the abyss long enough, the abyss stares back at you.

  It was a creature of the underworld. One of the most fearsome apparitions, not from the corporal realm. Then… What was he doing here? You bristled.

  Judgement had been passed, and the final fight between good and evil awaits.

  He was the plaguebearer, the Fourth Horseman of the Apocalypse. He was the harbinger of the pestilence. When the time was right, he will besiege the world with pure pandemonium.

  Flesh thudded against stone tiled floors. A strangled scream tore gutturally through the streets. These sounds were incredibly muffled to you.

  He barely turned his head to give a brief, uninterested, side glance.

  And all of a sudden, all your senses returned to you in one compounding moment, everything came crashing down dramatically upon you like a surging, symphonic orchestral blare, and you were met with your fears. The scratchy fingertips stabbed and pierced into your eardrums, and a sharp, debilitating throb pounded through your head. No amount of alcohol could make you forget the sight of his gruesome face.

  Here he stood, in the corporeal world, insidious and spectral. The time had come, and his presence heralded the arrival of world’s end, the armageddon before Judgement Day.

  You were unfortunate enough to be caught, dead in the center of this maelstrom.

  You looked death in the eye, watching carefully as you anticipated his next course of action. He opened his mouth to speak.

  “Ah, uninvited guests―Always a, uh, welcome surprise.”

  He slurred the last word. You tried your hardest to react, to at least do something, anything at all really would do at this moment. Ounce by ounce, he filled every space and cavity your physical being had to offer, and then those your spiritual and mental being as well, for there seemed to not be enough space for this surreal and... grotesque thing. You couldn’t breathe, it felt as if his mere presence was asphyxiating. You wanted to move, you wanted to run, you wanted to curl up into a ball, you wanted to move at least one goddamned muscle in your body.

  But you can’t.

  Sighing exaggeratedly, as if the world owed him a living, he trudged forward slowly and expectantly towards you. He put both his palms up, facing you, stretching and spacing out all his gloved fingers, perhaps in mock concession, a friendly gesture showing that he had nothing to hide. He raised his brows at you with his lips in a sulk, derisive in his condolences. All at once, the air was knocked out of your lungs, and your torso was constricted. You could barely comprehend what was happening, and he seized you by warping behind you as quickly as his stature allowed for. You bit into your lips, tears pricking at your eyes that you could allow such a thing to happen without having the guts to put up a fight. You thrashed your head around, struggling against his grasp, his leather gloved hands muffling a yelp that escaped your lips.

  He grumbled about something related to people minding their own businesses, but you were far too busy trying to pry away at his iron clasp around your figure to comprehend what he was really saying.  

  You couldn’t breathe properly. You sucked in as much air as you could through your scalded nostrils. Your lungs burned. Perhaps it was because you couldn’t see his face, that you could muster the courage required for this display of resistance to his restraints. Your laptop and files were left forgotten, dropped by the pavement and driven into the soil.

  “Kid, it’s fine, just relax and don’t―urgh! Don’t...don’t do anything rash.”

  You peered down as he rasped, the side of his face pressed mercilessly down into the concrete slabs of the sidewalk. Your shaky pupils searched the scene in front of you. The darkness was illuminated by the mellow streetlamps. John Blake was pushed, head first into the ground with a big, pale, brown-haired man kneeling against his form, restraining his arm behind his back. He was armed. That put you slightly more on edge, and slightly more willing to comply. The wraith behind you removed his hand from your mouth, and just as you were about to let out an ear-curdling scream, you felt a cold smoothness of the point of a knife tickle you lightly at your neck, drawing circles around your pulse point gently. Stubbornly, you slackened your arms a little, but still maintained a hold on his forearms.

  Let… Let go of John.

  You saw another man a couple feet beside him, frightened out of his wits, held at gunpoint by another goon, this one wearing a clown mask. He was quivering slightly, both his arms behind his head, clad in a grey suit, a piece of paper duct-taped at its front with words scribbled sloppily―‘Please deliver to Lieutenant Gordon.’ You scrunch your nose a little, tracing your eyes up to look into his panic-stricken, beady eyes.

  “Lau?”

  You spit out in disbelief, momentarily forgetting the compromising position you were in. The phantom circled his arms around you tighter like a python, a ritual they performed before they devoured their prey. It was no use, your arms were wedged by your sides at this point. You tried one last time to fight it, but it was met with a mere chuckle.

  “I see we’re all, uh, acquainted here?”

  He gestured in sardonic formality with his fingers that weren’t latched onto the trigger. He had an incredibly erratic cadence to his voice. His intonations and inflections were completely irregular, he stressed words in a pattern that seemed completely… random. This made even the way he spoke instinctually threatening, for you didn’t know what to expect from him, a sort of jagged edge that laced his words. It granted him a heightened sense of unpredictability, and a malicious air of danger that felt even more tangible. You felt this, it was all too real.

  “You’re working with the police to sell me out, is that how it is? You would betray your own company’s affiliate.”

  Lau, with as much disdain he could gather within him in his sorry state, glared daggers at you. His hands shook more violently, unable to control the trepidation of fear and anger mixed together in a deadly concoction. The ghoulish man who held you shifted you in his grasp a little, pressing your head closer to his cheek, and you felt the stickiness of his greasepaint latch onto your hair. You cringed and recoiled, lips contorting in disgust. He swiped his tongue against the ridges along his bottom lip.

  “I wouldn’t be so ah... concerned with that, if I were you. Seeing that our boy-o over here so valiantly jumped in to save your little-ol life.”

  You snarled at this implication, how dare he mock John? You clawed at his forearm, digging your nails into the velvety textile of his purple sleeve, and jerked yourself against his grasp. Roughly, he tensed his arm against your body. He shifted his lips closer to your ear, his slimy breath stroking the shell of your ear, smearing some hot waxy face paint against your cheek.

  “Ah-tatta… Let’s not get too ahead of ourselves.”

  He growled that last bit menacingly into your ear, pushing the slender tapered point of his blade deeper into your neck, sashaying side to side ominously as he adjusted his hold on you to expertly elude his arm from your long nails. He played around with the butt of the knife, tapping it and twisting it around absentmindedly. The blade slid against the delicate skin of your throat carelessly, with varying pressure. You froze. Just because you couldn’t see him didn’t mean he wasn’t there. As a grim reminder of his presence, he knowingly did this, intruding all boundaries of your personal space. Your blood ran cold, frosted by the chilling metal digging into your neck, and your sight remained trained on John Blake.

  Events that happened at the bank flipped through your mind like the pages of a comic book.

  Terrorist. Master-manipulator. Criminal. What the hell are you?

  You weren’t sure if you should be more afraid of this more talkative version of the clown, or the dead silent dirt green-haired man under the frowning mask.

  If there was one thing they had in common, you couldn’t fully understand either of them.

  Your life was in the hands of a madman who treated it all like a game.

  You saw John looking straight into you, seething underneath all that pressure. You tried to seek solace in him and calm him down at the same time, trying to convey your emotions through your eyes.

  Tongue in cheek, the man behind you was clearly watching this interaction, unamused.

  “For a couple of party crashers-ah? You guys sure are bor―ing.”

  With a low rumble in his chest, he shoved you forward and seized your hands behind you, pressing the knife against the back of your neck. A gasp escaped your lips, not used to the crassness of which you were being handled.

  “Ooh, I have an idea, something real fun. It wouldn’t do to do this at our, uh, current venue however…”

  He gestured his goons towards the abandoned building in front of you.

  Catching your breath, you twisted your head to the side to look at John Blake, your eyes widening and searching his face desperately. You had no choice but to be subjected to this… sick game of his.

  “It’ll be okay, John. We’ll be okay.”

  You only managed to catch a glimpse of his jaw clenching and his hard eyes looking back at you, before the clown in the purple suit pushed you forward again. The clown smacked his lips together.

  “Make it fast, lovebirds.”

###

Your head spun feverishly. You were sleep-deprived, couldn’t breathe well, and in a… sticky situation. You were just slammed forcefully, thrown head first into a fiberboard office desk. Through a teary-eyed vision, for a moment it was pitchblack, with the dim light of the city at night filtering through the window. Then, you were blinded by the sting of office-grade LED strip lights arranged neatly on the ceilings above you. Your trachea was already burning from being forced to climb up a flight of stairs. You had just about enough. This debilitation and lightheadedness gave you a newfound strength, ironically.

  You thought back on the 9/11 attacks, and on every other occasion you felt this similar genuine terror strike up in your heart. You vaguely remember some quote, to never negotiate with terrorists, or something like that. Terrible advice really, to anyone who was actually in a terror situation where it was life or death, but to hell with it. You were at your limit for the amount of bullshit you could tolerate. Being absolutely manhandled was not in your itinerary this night. You thought back on every good thing you’ve tried to do for Gotham, sickeningly undone by thugs like these. Your hunched form felt an animosity that was like acid, burning, slicing and extremely potent. And luck has it, you’re trying to stop me again.

  Your forehead was propped against the desk for support. Your hands were free, but your world was spinning too much for you to do anything with them. You bared your teeth, and you swear you could feel fangs growing where your canines were rooted.

  Violently, you hurled your voice against the desk.

  “Haven’t you done enough to us at the bank?”

  You squeezed your eyes shut and gritted your teeth, clenching your fists tightly. Your blood was hot, and you could no longer feel the coolness of the blade against your neck.

  “I’m not afraid of you terrorists. Frankly speaking, I am absolutely sick of you little bastards.”

  Venomously, you spit the excess saliva in your mouth against the desk, overwhelmed with emotion.

  You felt him tugging at your white blazer sleeves, and an excruciating force wrenched at the crown of your head by the hair, lifting your body up slightly, with it still looming over the desk. You felt a suppressed rage as you ran out of ways to express your anger in this awkward position, and you prepared to resort to launching a spit at him to resolve this compulsion.

  But the moment you were face to face with him, the hairs on the nape of your neck bristled. Trapped in your own psychosis, you were wheedled into a living nightmare tailor made for your own brain to play on your deepest fears. Two holes gouged out for eyes, and a bloodied smile carved in place of lips, all splotched onto a chalky white canvas. He looked like a corpse, and you felt the urge to puke. You felt your stomach lurch, and you clutched at your mouth to coax the acidic feeling back down your throat.

  He studied you, frowning deeply and narrowing his eyes, straining his head sideways to get a better look at you. God, when he narrowed those eyes, his sclera disappeared and they looked like the eye sockets embedded within a skull. His greasy hair frayed around framing his head stiffly, lifeless with its strands starched and stiffened together with muck, as if it were dipped in formaldehyde, its proteins coagulated rigidly like it belonged to a cadaver that had long been embalmed. They were bleached off of their natural colour and a faded wash of pallid, acid pale green remained. The fact that he smelled strongly of a queasy mixture of many different chemicals definitely did nothing to help.

  “Ah, so you are that little doctor girl back there. I remember you... Who else on earth wears a, uh, white blazer?”

  He snorted at the end, pinched at your sleeve at the same time, causing your forearm to be lifted, before he let it go. Your wrist bone landed, smacking against the table with a loud snap. The bite was sharp and pointed. You quickly grabbed your hand and held it to your chest, rubbing over it soothingly. You had no idea why you felt offended by this.

  “Glad you made it, little girl-”

  “Doctor... What? And says you! You’re-you’re dressed in a purple trench-”

  You cut him off. He regarded you with a slow lick of his lips, gliding languidly over the fringes of his scars. He gets even closer, up in your face. He stares down at you, looking directly into your very being. You try to look away, but you could only see ink black. You could even smell the greasepaint in this enclosed space. You felt the world spinning.

  “C’mere―Hey. Look at me.”

  He rasped, dragging the clipped point of the dagger against your cheek, pressing it against the corner of your lips.

  “Y'know, whenever people say they’re... not afraid of me,”

  He looked away, inflecting his voice. Then he pointed at his face with his gloved hands, gesturing at the distance between you two, etching even closer. You felt an internal score rising in pitch.

  “I do this. I get all up in their face.”

  He nodded at you. To this you sealed your eyes back together. You dared not look. The world had not stopped circling around you. He yanked your head.

  “Hey―come on…”

  Cooing, he sticks the blade in your mouth. It took all your strength in order to keep your eyes open, just to stare helplessly into back his cavernous ones. The straining notes were reaching an unbearable dissonance, tearing jarringly into your eardrums. It was excruciating. Your ears ached and bled. They reached a frequency that was no longer audible to you.

  “And guess what? They’re always silent. Like you, right now.”

  He smiled, patronisingly, with a sympathetic look on his face, shaking his head slightly.

  “People that, uh, put on a show… are spineless, more often, than no-t.”

  He patted your face gently with his leather finger tips, then rubbed loose patterns around. He had you in his trap. You were his prey, no more than a little mouse to a cold-blooded viper. He flicked his tongue rapidly out of his mouth, then retracts it. What he said wasn’t… false. You couldn’t take it any longer. The revolutions around you were excessive.  

  “Hey―Freakshow. Does it feel good intimidating someone smaller than you? Behind a mask?”

  You saw his eyeballs shift to the side with the weight of a boulder, this time jarringly wide, and you could only see the white of his eyes. He really did not look amused. He shifted his bottom lips in a restrained tick, almost like a controlled form of madness. He leaned back slightly, his grip still firm on your hair, wobbling it around slightly. His body bent a little backwards from the hips, and he dramatically gesticulated his hand holding the knife into an open palm.

  “Very well, your dashing knight in ah, shining armour has given us a great suggestion.”

  Your body was pulled towards him and he faced it towards the center of the room, with that familiar careless grace you witnessed days ago. His arm was hooked suffocatingly around your neck, and you were face to face with the setting of an abandoned office room. The only furniture was the shabby office desk before you, and floorboards were uncovered, revealing nails sticking out of the ground. The wallpaper was partially torn, a pale beige staining at the edges with a rusted brown. A few slider windows were spruced along the walls surrounding the room.

  John Blake and Lau were pushed all the way to the windows, both of them still held captive by the two goons, edging dangerously close to the borders. Lau stood on the left, and Blake on the right.

  “Let’s extend this little… game between us,”

  The grisly clown tongued along the scars on his inner cheek.

  “To our guests here with us.”

  He reached around beneath his coat, into his back pocket.

  “You deranged fuck, what you’re doing here is sick-”

  Bones cracked. A fist connected with John Blake’s skull.

  Lau just stared on agitatedly, his tongue curling against his bottom lip as he inhaled deeply, his breathing rate increasing. His hands were still behind his head.

  “Between one life or the other,”

  The clown craned his head into your line of sight, to check if you were still listening. Your chest constricted, and your breathing picked up. The pain escalated.

  “You’ll get to choose…”

  Reaching around you, he presented a gun, glinting silver. You stared at it, horrified. He cackled scratchily, the sound of his voice grating to your ears like sandpaper. From behind, he wrapped his hands around yours as gingerly as he could at first, as if he were handling a delicate little child, teaching them a valuable life skill, such as tying their shoe laces. Soon he gave up on this idea and thrust it in your hand, then unceremoniously clasped his hands tightly around yours, fumbling slightly with the butt of the gun. He made a throaty noise. His varnished gloves rubbed mercilessly against the skin on your knuckles.

  No, no, no, no....

  You squeezed your eyes, an epileptic meditation amidst the prelude of a panic attack. He hunched over, jutting a sharp chin into the tender flesh between your neck and shoulder. You squirmed, and felt purple walls around you constricting further as his arms enclosed around you, your heart sinking further down and squished into a box. You did not like him pushing past your personal boundaries at all.

  “You can’t make me do this.”

  Your voice was barely a crack above a whisper, croaking silently.

  He lifted his chin and pushed back down on your shoulder to get a closer look at your face, making a nasally grunt as he did so.

  “You do know what’s gonna happen to you if ya don’t play along now, don’tcha?”

  He bobbed your hand around slightly, the gleaming danger of the pistol hypnotic. You stay rooted to the spot, coercing your hands into relaxation. You were being lured into its spell, it was like a siren that serenaded, and the barrel of the gun looked like that of a deformed pipe. His arms were caged around you, you were locked in place.

  You followed the sound of the pipe.

  Your eyes were steely.

  He turned his cheek a little, nudging the side of his cheek against yours to direct your attention to the left side. More wax was smeared on your face. You felt stifled.

  “Your… corrupt boss who cares about nothing but money,”

  Your gun was still pointed to the middle of Blake and Lau. But you were bewitched to keep your gaze on Lau, and he stared at you with the same flecks of red in his eyes as he did a couple days ago at the office.

  “You know, my car is worth more than both of your entire life savings combined-”

  “Or…”

  He jerked his head slightly to the right and made another nasal sound to redirect you, along with the disgusting lick of his lips. The walls were slowly caving in.

  “Your tall, dark and handsome squeeze over here.”

  He crooned suggestively.

  “Y’know, he is pretty gallant―Maybe he wouldn’t mind sacrificing his life so that little squealing rat could live.”

  You watched John Blake as he was being jostled roughly by the brown-haired man. You didn’t know how to react, and you couldn’t find the right words to say. For some reason, that statement made you feel somehow… sorrowful. Why?

  “He… We’re not attached.”

  You silently blurted out. You felt a low rumble vibrating against your back, before the clown behind you burst into a fit of light, high-pitched giggles, incredulous. On top of his voice, even his nasal laughter sounded like a cynical, washed out clown who smoked a pack of cigarettes a day, who put on a red nose and laughed derisively at childrens’ misery at their own birthday parties.

  This was something you felt the need to clarify? Right before all of your untimely deaths? Oh, how entertaining this was to him. You were beyond foolish to the clown.

  “Talk about ice cold, little girl.” 

  The clown scoffed in disbelief.

  “My brother over there, I’m so sorry. Trust me, I feel for ya-”

  He jeered, wiping a fake tear away from his eyes, letting the last waves of his laughter tide through. You frowned, puzzled and bewildered. You caught John Blake’s gaze, helplessly searching for answers from him. He tensed his jaw further, collecting his thoughts. Clearly, the clown’s antics were getting to him. You couldn’t blame him. You fared no better. He took a deep breath and calmed.

  “It’s fine, just relax. Don’t fall for his twisted mind games.”

  The clown pouted at him. He was pushed even further against the edge of the window, the brown-haired man pointing his gun underneath his chin and painstakingly shoved him further backward. His lower body was the only thing anchoring him to the floorboard. The corpse clown's hands clasped over yours tapped it impatiently a couple of times.

  “We don’t have all day, y’know.”

  He deadpanned. You inhaled slightly and closed your eyes. Your mind sifted through many memories, sharp and bright, of all your interactions with Lau. Of all the conversations you’ve had with John over Lau.

  That man is nothing but scum. He has contributed to the steady crumble of Gotham, peddling drugs, perpetuating murders, and ensuring that the mob ruled the city with an iron fist.

  It was scary how you were able to rationalise this. 

  No hard feelings Lau. An eye for an eye. That’s all it really is.

  You slowly felt anger and vengeance bubbling in your stomach. You were overwhelmed with the savagery of the beast. You sought retribution, reprisal and revenge. This… was you. And you had all the power in the world to take the law into your hands, to play your own judge. You slowly traced the line of the sight of the gun to your left. The music of the pipe resounded melodically. It’s dangerous. But it was so… incredibly sweet. You looked up from the barrel to the man its sight landed on. Your eyes were glazed over. The clown behind you hummed in assent, pleased with the results. Your fingers hooked at the trigger, hesitating.

  “Excellent choice, little girl.”

  He licked his lips. He toyed around with the gun, playing and fiddling with its hammer, flicking it and letting go absentmindedly.

  “If only it weren’t so, ah… pre-dictable.”

  He rested his fingers atop of yours. Your hands shook a little. 

  “Is it because it goes ‘according to plan’? I mean, he’s the obvious baddie over here, and all you… do-gooders. You clearly deserve to live. To bring him to justice.”

  He purred into your ear, his breath fanning you hotly. John Blake struggled further against the man holding him back. He had no hands to grip onto the frames of the window. His fall was imminent. He had to speak up now. There was no better time. Desperately, he wheezed.

  “You know kid,”

  He sputtered slightly.

  “I always told you that you were like a… like a siege engine. I’m only saying this now because it’s a matter of life or death,”

  His words were initially spat out at a fast pace, his voice was very strained from his extreme and awkward position, and his breath was laboured. Eventually, he slowed down to get his point across more clearly.

  “You’re a fine weapon. A valuable asset to my company, and your work is remarkable. I’ve always entrusted you to make the right decisions as my junior analyst… But I’ve come to realise you’re so much more. ”

  He tried to peer down at you from his obstructed view, toiling as his voice was weak from holding this position. For so long you worked so hard for him, and you barely got rewarded with words of confirmation. Your eyes went wide and you hastily looked at him, they were glossy and large like a puppy dog. Your heart squeezed gut wrenchingly, for months you pined for this truth. You yearned so deeply to now what he truly thought of you and everything you’ve done for him.

  “You’re always by my… my side. It’s two of us against the world. You’re the only person I want to do this job with. You’re a bright girl, with so much flair for what you do. And that’s not the only part,”

  You felt yourself drift higher and higher, and you were now a lightweight. Drunk on his words, you’ve never heard him speak so personally about you before. It was always sparse little words of affirmation sprinkled around sparingly. He was an incredibly stingy man. He was so ungenerous with praise. It was always snarky jabs at you. He always made you feel the need to prove yourself. But he was the first one who gave you the chance to.

  “That’s not what makes you special. I want you to remember our vision-”

  He implored earnestly. 

  “Our vision… has been tainted. But that doesn’t make it any more invalid. Sometimes... we do have to get our hands dirty, for-for the greater good.”

  He breathed, in between jagged gasps. If this was what he truly thought of you...

  “I’ll trust you again. To do the right thing.”

  Intently, you listened to his words, your eyes watering slightly. You tried internalising the wealth of what he said to you. It was a lot to take in, it all happened so fast. This conversation was happening prematurely. You had no idea who was playing the pipe at this point. Where was the sound coming from…? The alluring music converged from all corners, all directing to the source of the instrument in your hand.

  The clown behind you went uncharacteristically silent. He licked his lips slowly, studying the exchange between the two of you. Siege engine, huh? What a funny word to describe you with. Siege engines were colossal battering rams, castle forged and an exalted war machine that delivered victories to the warring states for centuries. Monumental goliaths, they were the front lines, the fortress breakers, the castle crashers, leading the furious charge on battlefields when zero hour arrived. They were medieval trebuchets of acclaim, a necessity for triumph in war. As glorious as they were, they could only be as great as their role allowed them to be. At the end of the day, they were nothing but a mere pawn of war.

  You slowly looked at Lau, and he no longer looked at you with that malice from before. It was replaced by a look that was… strikingly familiar. He reminded you of the mob bank teller days prior. Pleading, frightened, like a cornered animal, desperate and fighting to survive. His gaze pierced right through to your heart. This struck a chord within you. You observed how his eyebrows knitted into the shape of a mountain, quivering lightly. His lips downturned and parted slightly. His eyes were large. The look of a man whose life flashed before his life.

  Yes, he did cause you a lot of trouble at the office. He did utterly degrade and humiliate you. He made your job hard. The moment he stepped in, he made you hate your job. No actually, that’s the understatement of the century. He made you loathe your job, detest it, abhor it. Pretty much anything to do with a severe hateful feeling you felt for this job, where you used to feel joy or any small amount of excitement, he had killed it for you. But did he really deserve to die for this?

  “I-”

  A croak filed through your dry throat. It felt like a type of flesh eating insect was festering within your insides. Starting at your heart, they feasted at the tissue down into your stomach, and they were coming up through your gullet. The moral conscience weighed inside of you like a heavy pendulum, one swing away from breaking off from its support and crashing through to your very center. You couldn’t bear the moral weight of such a decision. This was not a burden you could carry for the rest of your life.

  “I can’t. I can’t do it.”

  John Blake looked at you while he sucked in a breath, unreadable. Lau fell to his knees, a wash of relief coming over him. He continued being kicked and kneed in the face by the goon wearing a clown mask.

  “Ah... you’ve already chosen unfortunate-ly. And you’re not backing out of this one, sweetheart.”

  You flinched hearing the voice that you had forgotten was there. This stirred something within you, and you refused to give into his demands. You would rather die than make a choice like this.

  “No, I am not giving into your stupid, twisted pseudo-social experiment-”

  You twisted the gun barrel to face yourself, and for once, you heard no more music.

  “It wouldn’t even matter who I chose anyway… would it?”

  Shakily, you looked into the head of the barrel, and you felt… grief. It was cold and empty looking. For the second time that night, it felt like you were looking death in the eye. A knot twisted in your stomach. Your tears spilled over your cheeks, flowing hotly. You wept silently. You were stubborn, you would go to this extent just to prove something. Your ego knew no bounds. Your hearing blanked out for a moment, and you vaguely heard Blake shouting at you. You suddenly plunged into purgatory, existing solely on the plane between life and death. You teetered on the edge. Lau looked on from the ground, body tense and deeply perturbed. This turn of events was greeted by silence from the clown.

  The clown stared, wide eyed. His face twitched. His lips quirked into a frown. Why… would you do something like that? His eyes narrowed a fraction. He couldn’t comprehend this. It wasn’t exactly easy to render him speechless. Why on earth would you throw your life away for another’s? This he could not understand. Humans are... selfish creatures. At the core of it, they were all rotten and purely motivated by self-interest. Then… then why?  Why hadn’t he been able to predict this? This ate at him. Got under his skin. It grinded his gears. His arms wrung around you tighter. He observed the pistol pointed at your forehead. This was pathetic. Absolutely ridiculous. Confusion quickly dissipated in his chest and boiled into a seething, frothy rage. His jaw jutted forth and tensed, trembling slightly, his lips pursing together. He cackled through his nostrils, sounding a little manic. If you really wanted death, he wasn’t going to just give it to you, no. Ah, ah, ah… I’m not letting you get your satisfaction out of this. He couldn’t let you off the hook this easy.

  “Well then, little girl. You can’t be a… a sore loser and quit playing our game now.”

  His lilt sounded crazed. He gripped your hands tighter, you felt the leather skirting against your skin.

  “I suppose-ah, I’ll have to finish your job for you.”

  He spat, his words practically dripping with pure spite and malice. He wrenched your wrist to aim the gun away from you. Alarmed, your senses were heightened and you let out a sharp bark. At a speed you’ve never seen yourself move at before, you bent forward and locked your jaw around his fingers, chomping down forcefully. Your teeth sunk into his leather glove, and clamped down straight into his last finger. Squawking, he was caught off-guard. You heaved your foot and aimed a kick at his crotch. He let out a muffled noise of pain, and you tried your damndest to take advantage of this and get out of this situation.

  You struggled in his grasp, elbowing around at the sides, hoping to worm your way out of it. Unfortunately, he was unrelenting. Your hands were still on the gun, your fingers idling at the trigger. He doubled over, sickling an arm around your neck and gripped tightly onto the pistol, a finger slotted between the gun hammer and the rear sight, pulling it back. While he was in his position bent over, he was looming over you, laughing slightly. You were choking, beyond freaked out at this point, not exactly getting the reaction you wanted from him, and now you were completely unsure as to what he would do. The feeling of confinement was too much and you were at your breaking point.

  “Y’know, forget being a siege engine,”

  He grabbed your jaw, forcefully burrowing his fingers into your cheek.

  “I think she’s more of a, uh, pinky bruiser.”

  He tore your head upwards, and latched his hands back onto yours. He yanked at them, and aimed the gun at Lau. Ready, aim... He fastened his index fingers around yours. You widen your eyes, panicked with alarm bells shrilling through your head. Fire!

  “No!”

  He pulled at the trigger. You jerked your arms violently to the left, frantic. Recoiling, you were sent careening further back into the clown. The sound of the gun shot pierced through the air like a firecracker. You saw the goon with the mask fallen to the ground, his denim jeans getting soaked through with a fresh, gurgling red dampness around his thigh.

  Before anything else could be registered in your mind, the brown-haired man on the right side of the room displaced John Blake’s leg, and grabbed his lower torso, flinging him over the ledge of the window sill. You tried to lunge forward, demented and crazed, you were quickly becoming hysterical.

  “Ohmygod John-”

  Completely out of control, a scream tore through with your whole body like a shard of glass, you took no notice of the pain in your lungs as you were rapidly turning unhinged. The man who flipped John over like he was a light, airy pancake, faced you and you heard the click of a gun.

  You saw the sight of a gun cocked in your direction. You felt tears well up in your eyes at this very fraction of time.

  Bang!

  You screwed your eyes shut, expecting the most intense agony you would ever feel in your life. But the pain never came. Your eyes fluttered open slowly, and you saw the goon drop unconscious like a fly zapped through an electric swatter, most likely dead.

  “Did I tell you to shoot her…”

  The clown behind you muttered to himself, the smell of gunpowder burning your nostrils and you saw streaks of smoke smouldering and rising from the gun barrel in his hands. You tensed your shoulders, mouth slightly agape in bewilderment. You mouthed something soundlessly, but words could not form. What are you doing-

  The crackle of wood being busted through splintered at your ears, the noise tearing through the room sickeningly. You didn’t even have time to decide whether you should feel relieved or not.

  “Drop the weapon, now!”

  Lieutenant Gordon came bursting through with a team of policemen, their pistols aiming at every figure present in the room. He looked at you and the clown, and kept his gun trained in your direction. He dared not edge closer, in case you got harmed.

  The clown, with his hold still vice-like on you, stumbled backwards pulling you along ungracefully. He still kept you imprisoned under his reign for one final moment in time. You were at his mercy.

  “Drop it now!”

  A pair of lips pressed intimately into your ear. You felt a shiver run down your spine.

  “You know pinky bruiser, you were a lot of fun today. Sorry for, uh, calling you a party pooper.”

  He rasped. A chuckle rumbled lowly in his chest.

  “I think... you and I both know―Fate wouldn’t have it if this was our last time together.”

  He murmured and you were about to pass out from this lightheadedness and claustrophobia. You were constricted for far too long. You were way past your breaking point. A huge force tipped you backwards. You grabbed onto the ledge of the window sills, your veins popping from exerting such a strong force on your arms. 

  All of a sudden, the clown’s hold on you was relinquished.

  Your lungs overflowed with air, and your body was dramatically jerked forward, pain flooding your systems as you dry-heaved. Gordon hurried over by your side, extending a tender hand to rest on your arm. Realisation dawned upon you, and you swiftly spun around, bending over the ledge, looking out the window. You craned your neck as far down as you could see, hunting down and examining the perimeter.

  Gone.

  Gordon was pulling you back, preventing you from falling out the window. He was trying to talk some sense into you, but quickly gave up when he realised your current, panicked state of mind. Your strength was fading, and you allowed Gordon to reel you back into safety. Why didn’t you just… kill me? You thumped, falling to your knees, grabbing your hands to your head, sobbing and whimpering your sorrows away. You finally allowed all the pent up emotions to crash, not that you could control it now, anyway. It felt like a mallet crashing through from behind your eyes and nose, the twinging sensation unbearable as you wailed. It should have been me, goddamn it.

  Gordon knelt down, sighing and furrowing his brows in sympathy. He opened his mouth, wanting to say something, then closed his mouth. He felt useless in this situation, clearly unable to help clear your head of any type of trauma that resulted from this unfortunate event. He was aware of this. He hated feeling this powerless, he hated not being able to help. He had perhaps felt this way his entire career, with a town like Gotham so rotten, the GCPD was basically made a mockery at this point.

  Lau was about to be taken by the other cops back into custody. He ambled past you, and looked over you and your pathetic form. For once, his expression was not one of scorn. It wasn’t one of anything really, he just looked a shell of the person he was just moments ago. You were pushing it if you said he looked like he felt bad for you, and that he held a thankful expression at the same time. You weren’t sure if you believed him to be capable of that.

  You were escorted out the abandoned office building, swaying and staggering around. You went to pick up the devices strewn all over the soil, with some help from Gordon. When you saw a glowing cop car with shattered windows and John Blake being supported by two cops, relieving pressure off his shoulders, you quickly rubbed at your tear stained face and hobbled over as quick as you could, relief pumping through your chest as you were hopeful that he survived the fall.

  The paramedics were on their way, and from the looks of it, John had a mildly serious shoulder injury and got extremely lucky. He had fallen from a height of 1 story from the ground, but as luck would have it, his fall was broken by the cop car stationed coincidentally below the window. He also fell on his side, which allowed for the best chance of survival and led to the least immobilising injuries.

  You couldn’t help yourself and gave John a quick hug and squeezed him lightly, after hearing him speak about what you were to him, and after experiencing the fright and grief of losing him. You were met with an involuntary wince. That probably felt soul-crushing to him, taking into account that he just fell out of a building. The ambulance finally arrived and they proceeded to bring down a stretcher. You were glad it was over. But something told you this was not the last of the clown you’d see. You thought, I mean… he practically promised you that you’d be seeing him again soon enough.

  “I’ll be fine. Just go get some rest.”

  He assured you, idling around, not really wanting to leave. He tried prolonging his stay with you before they eventually persuaded him to get onto the stretcher.

  “Heh. This time you’re the one sending me off.”

  You smiled, wanting to follow but he refused. You weren’t really sure why he wouldn’t allow that, feeling a pang of hurt in your chest. He quickly convinced you that it was too late and you had your own injuries to recover from, not wanting to disrupt the healing process. You were doubtful, but you shrugged away this nagging feeling and tried to take his word for it, mustering a final warm smile on your wary face. Your eyelids were starting to droop. You bid him farewell for the time being and watched as he was whisked away. 

  You hated to admit it, but your mind was still plagued by that sadistic clown. Your mind raced with questions, and you wanted answers. What did he mean by his parting speech?

  You were disturbed from your thoughts as Gordon offered to send you home, but you couldn’t reject his sincere offer. You didn’t want to disappoint him any further. As much as you didn’t like to leech off his kindness, it was the least you could do to repay him with the validation of being able to do something right. You sat in the front seat of the car, preparing to be saddled with desultory conversations on the ride home. However, you realised perhaps things would be different with Lieutenant Gordon. He had a type of heartfelt presence within, and was incredibly perceptive. You rested assured in your car seat. Yeah, he was different.

  You heard the revving of the engine after Gordon slammed his front door shut. You stared out the window. The moon cast a buttery glow over the town, dancing in the velvety black-blue sky. The thought of the clown flashed through your mind once again. You closed your eyes, dispelling the cursed imagery. The blast of the air conditioner was adjusted to a pleasant breeze brushing lightly against your neck. Gordon placed his hand on the gear and recalibrated it. He breathed in, turned his head and landed his gaze uncomfortably on you.

  “So, you uh, from this town?”

  You felt something pleasant blossoming inside of you, being humoured by this awkward attempt at starting a conversation from Gordon. You chuckled lightly. You appreciated the effort.

  “Yes, yes I am. What about you?”

  You looked back and smiled politely. He stepped on the pedal and accelerated the vehicle.

  “Well, no. I moved here some decades ago with my wife…”

  You guessed it would do well to get to know more about your partners in crime fighting. You hummed, patiently listening. 

  Yeah, this wasn’t too bad, you supposed.

  Now, if only you could stop yourself from feeling like passing out in the front seat. 

  That would be great.

###

#joker #Heath Ledger Joker #ledger joker #ledger!joker x reader #the dark knight

[fauzhee10069]

Caato: never-ending hypes and never-ending absence (JoJolion)

I'm amazed, her ±11 fans still have hope in her.

I still have my money on Caato as the big villain of JoJolion. We haven’t seen her do anything during this entire arc and we haven’t seen her stand nor do we know specifically what it does yet.

And this is your main problem, Caatofags! Shouldn't it be weird if she hasn’t done anything at all as the big villain during the climactic arc?

Yeah, apparently it made perfect sense of why Kyo Kei had been missing-in-action before, her absence and her unawareness of the situation will protect her from 'calamity'.

The same thing might happen to Caato, she can be protected from 'calamity' if  Araki decides that she will do something later.

But NOT AS THE BIG VILLAIN! Not anymore. The absence of her role and action should further discourage Caato as a 'big player' let alone ‘main villain’.

This is why Araki continues to develop Tooru character. Tooru keeps appearing in each chapter recently, we are getting to know who Tooru really is and how he is able to orchestrate the events leading up to this climactic arc!

And Caato has not showed up and gotten involved in this at all, she is completely absent, meaning that Caato had absolutely nothing to do with this 'calamity'!

If Caato is ‘the big villain’, it should have been a few chapters ago Araki brought her up and gave us some hints!

Caato’s unnamed Stand is clearly overrated at this point. 「Wonder of U」 already fits into the theme of main villains’ Stands with 'fate manipulation' in it. Your assumption that the main villains’ Stands in this reboot verse will have 'dimensional manipulation' has never been proven!

I doubt that Caato’s unnamed Stand will have humanoid form (in which every main villain has), her Stand is clearly a tool-type. Her feats are not that impressive and only on par with 「Enigma」 .

Caato also fits with the core concept of family more than Tooru. She wants to take the Higashikata family for all it’s worth which establishes motive as the villain.

This is your second problem, Caatofags! You consider the Higashikata family as ‘everything’ in JoJolion's story. While they play a big part in this story, they aren't everything!

The center point of JoJolion’s main story is ‘the magic cure’ aka. Locacaca fruit, which later evolved into the ‘New Locacaca’.

Higashikata family is one of the players involved in the 'game' to take advantage of that miraculous fruit.

Higashikata family is divided with Norisuke IV siding with Josuke and Jobin with his little family.

Then there's Holy’s family (where Josuke sided with them).

Then Josuke's allies, Yasuho and Rai (Rai sided with Josuke thanks to Norisuke IV).

And finally, the rock-humans (Tooru with Head Doctor gang and Damokan Group).

'Family' (and 'motherhood') is indeed one of the things that become the theme in this story. However, the 'importance' of this Higashikata family is still below the 'New Locacaca' fruit.

Sure, Higashikata family is like the richest family in Morioh, they also play a major role in this story, but when there will be a clash between normal humans and the rock-humans (which was implied by HD gang and Tooru as his motivation), they are just a small part in this society.

Without dealing with Locacaca, the rock-humans and Higashikata family would not be linked.

If Caato is the main villain, then she must have done something big with ‘Locacaca’ or at least her motivation also has an impact on the rock-humans.

Araki also nudged the 'family' theme towards rock-humans and alluded to ‘motherhood’ in their society, why did he tell about the rock-mother, the growth of a rock-baby and explain of how different their ‘social structure’ is from normal humans?

The rock-humans are not detached from the theme of 'family' and 'motherhood'.

Caato with her motivation so far to get back at her family and take their fortune for all it’s worth would only make her an antagonist in a family drama, her motivation has nothing to do with the rock-humans.

Caato only has a grudge against Norisuke IV, her ex-husband who has abandoned her. She threatens that she will take what Norisuke IV has (yeah, something that might break their family apart in process).

You might think that the conflict between Caato and Norisuke IV will have an impact on Josuke, because Norisuke IV is the one who has been taking care of the amnesiac Josuke and gave him a shelter to live.

Josuke is not heartless person, I’m sure Norisuke IV's 'death' would somehow have an impact on his feelings. However, Josuke remains an outsider in Higashikata family conflict!

Norisuke IV's death (which might be Caato's doing in your opinion) is not the biggest issue for Josuke. Their children (Jobin, Hato, Joshu and Daiya) have more rights to be involved in said conflict… and to solve it.

Norisuke IV was probably the one who looked after Josuke for several months (given that JoJolion story takes place in 2011 and the latest chapter is still in 2011). But Norisuke IV was the father of Jobin, Hato, Joshu and Daiya for many years in their whole life.

Using ‘Norisuke IV’ as final conflict of JoJolion between Josuke and Caato is not a great idea to close the story of part 8, unless you are willing to accept the switch of protagonist from Josuke to the Higashikata (probably Joshu lol).

The Higashikata family drama won’t hold a candle to the exploitation of New Locacaca against the society.

All of the Higashikatas are in someway named after cards but Caato is the Japanese word for card implying that she wields the whole deck.

LMAO, you fail! Only the women (Mitsuba, Hato, Daiya) and Tsurugi are named after cards. The men’s names have nothing to do with ‘cards’. Araki just wanted to give this exiled Matriarch a 'playing cards' as a theme in her character concept.

And your third problem, Caatofags! You depend too much on symbolization.

Araki mentions that rock human woman can give birth but don’t particularly care about their children. We see this in Caato, she doesn’t care about her family members aside from Jobin and she just helped him to get back at Norisuke IV.

Your fourth problem, Caatofags! Always rely on unproven theories everytime you hype her. Caato is a rock-human, where is the proof? It is still a theory.

You also failed to read the characterization about Caato! From where do you think Caato doesn't care about her children?

You guys fail to understand of what really happened during the “Higashikata family reunion” because you are too delusional about wanting Caato as the 'big villain' and always think of her as an ‘oh so evil’ woman!

So, let me explain it to you (even though I'm actually getting tired with this scene of chapter 58):

Caato, who just got out of prison, went to Higashikata's house to reunite with her children after being separated for 15 years, she really missed them. No wonder she talked a lot and reminded them of their childhoods and everything she knows about them as their mother.

Her ex-husband, Norisuke IV did not take her visit well. He was being hostile, and then so are her children. Why was that? Because all this time Norisuke IV considered Caato as not part of their family and wanted his children to forget about her.

Only Hato vaguely recalled of what actually happened to Caato, that her mother had been jailed for "murder". After big sister revealed it, Joshu and Daiya also become wary of their mom.

Caato did attack Joshu, but that doesn't automatically mean that she hates her children. She only gave a lesson to him for doing a despicable thing to her… and Joshu totally deserved that (lol).

Of course Caato was disappointed with her children who became wary of her. The ‘warm reunion’ she had expected became a 'hostile reunion' instead.

Then, if your argument is that Caato doesn't care about her children because she let herself went to jail (and abandoned them for 15 years), let me remind you that Caato certainly did not expect that she would be caught and go to prison after she had cured Jobin!

After the ‘murder incident’, Caato might have thought that she could get away with the incident and would live peacefully with her family for 5 years until finally she got busted.

At this point, the only hope for Caatofags is that JoJolion will have one more arc left after 'Wonder of You' and the conflict with the rock-humans, with Higashikata family as the main focus (±30 chapters, they wish).

My biggest issue with Caatofags is: that their theories often direspect Araki's writing style, they are stubborn, fanatical, and delusional. At this point, they should have just accepted that Tooru will likely become the 'big villain' of JoJolion like how I accepted the death of Jobin and my dream of him as ‘the main villain’.

Read also:

How does the hype of Caato turn really bad?

Caato’s potential role towards the end of JoJolion

The cacophony of the main villains in JoJolion

#jojolion spoilers #kaato higashikata #stfu caatofags #overhyped caato #caatofags strike again #caato #overrated caato #jjba part 8 #jojo's bizarre adventure #my rants #my thoughts

[inyoursheets]

2 7 8!

2. What do you do to understand the characters better and get into their head space?

differs!

sometimes i listen to music that fits a particular scene/mood/what i think fits the character’s headspace

other times it’s just a matter of banking on my personal experience with xyz feeling. i don’t have to have had the exact same experience the character has to imagine the feeling it could elicit. i just try to imagine what it would feel like for me if that thing happened, and then ask myself if the character would have the same response or if they’d respond differently

sometimes i look things up, try and research what it’s like to go through xyz

sometimes i stare at gifs, to also get a better sense of the character’s physical presence and how to write their body into scenes

sometimes i rewatch/think back on a scene from canon, but if im honest that’s not something i do all that much

but tbh i usually just wing it, i just start writing and then later re-read and see if i think it rings true to the character or not

7. To you, what is the most important part of writing a romantic relationship?

oh my goodness what a QUESTION!!!! i don’t know! ive never been in one! who gave me the right to write about romantic relationships! im just doing whatever! but i think conveying the feelings people have for each other in a way that seems real, relatable, is a big part? i want readers to feel what the characters are feeling, or get a hint of it, a taste, at least enough to see the appeal or get a sense of the intensity of the feelings? i think the most important part of writing a romantic relationship is getting the reader to join in, to join the storm and the swirl of feelings and of highs and disappointment and hope and pain and wondering and understanding and warmth and anguish and complexities and misunderstandings and fucking dance with it

8. What are three things you’re proudest of when it comes to your writing? Dialogue, descriptions, humour, romantic fluff, kisses, action, pacing, worldbuilding, setting, anything! Even small things like sentence structures and the way your characters banter counts!

this calls for bullet points!!!!!

uhhhhh i like some of the descriptions/metaphors and similes i use! i always wonder if they come across as self-involved or annoying or too vague or too obvious (dont u love questioning every single thing you put to paper) but i can really enjoy the process of finding the right comparison, the right way to describe/decorate around a feeling, a moment. for me it makes something come alive more, makes it more tangible, and it’s so satisfying to find a description that i think fits a certain feeling best

i am proud that im writing in the first place. the fact that im putting words to paper is a feat, that i haven’t given up yet even tho it’s hard sometimes and i frustrate myself a lot. maybe that doesn’t sound like a big deal but it is to me, i kinda tend to give up on things quickly (all those who are perfectionists say aye!)

this is kind of a rare occurrence for me but sometimes dialogue just falls onto the paper as i write and then i step back after a sec and reread it and realize: yup, this is actually how people talk, argue, tease. and it’s how these specific people would talk to each other. when i dont have to ask myself at every turn: ok and then what do they say??? or overthink people’s reactions, but it just sort of happens and then i look back and go: yeah, that tracks. such as a part of the twenty questions game between annie and rio in warm water, or part of the conversation between beth, rhea, and rio in the instigator before they have sex, and in between the fucking.

thank you for asking!!!! fanfic writer asks to help me avoid the fanfic im writing!!!!

#ask #ask games #sothischickshe #my fic #using you and u in the same sentence like the messy bisexual that i am #im a bullet point kinda gal #i cannot be stopped

[wolf-555-writer]

Still Breathing Part 7

I really did a number on your patience with this one I think ;p. But here it is, the final part. (That’s the intention at least, who knows what will happen in the future). Anyways, thank you all for reading the story, especially if you made it till this one! :) Enjoy! 

Read part 1; part 2; part 3; part 4; part 5; part 6

Alex Danvers x Reader

Word Count: 2,643

“Talk to you later Danvers”, you breathe out, closing the door behind you and leaving Alex her apartment in shame and guilt. She sighed agitated and squeezed her eyes shut at the sound of your footsteps fading away. Being aggravated as hell while still seated on the couch with her arms crossed in anger.

“I definitely need something stronger than coffee…”. Alex grabs a bottle of wine and pours herself a glass. Or two. Maybe even three. It’s already a total mess at the DEO, with Colonel Hayley parading around, watching over the Director’s every move, and now THIS!? DEO Agents beating each other up, fighting over absolutely nothing. Alex has a soft spot for you, considering you both confessed your long-lasting feelings to one another in front of the bar earlier. But that doesn’t mean she can’t be mad at you. Maybe the alcohol will help her relax from this long, intense day.  

Trying to ease her mind while sipping the red liquid at a reasonable speed; more or less. Finally… some peace and quiet, when suddenly her phone buzzes. The screen lights up and Alex takes a quick peek to see who it is. It’s your name on the phone display. A deep sigh followed by a dramatic rolling of the eyes as she drops back, burying herself in the couch again. She doesn’t even think about picking up. You’re probably calling to apologize, or beg for forgiveness. Why can’t you just let it rest. Alex is not in the mood to handle anything else today. The phone buzzes again. “Ugh, I’ve had enough”. She grabs it from the table and turns the phone off, whereby the silence kindly returns.

After simmering down, and an entire bottle of wine, she decides to call you back. A thorough, flawless speech thought out, ready to be delivered since you've had more than enough time to think your selfish actions over. She lightly regrets playing ‘hard to get’ earlier, though you kind of made her. You were practically an asshole, so it’s your own fault she ignored you. Alex noticed you left her a voicemail and listens to it first. Best case, you came to your senses all by yourself by which Alex would be relieved of a frustrated outbreak on the phone. She puts the phone to her ear. Her eyes widen and her jaw drops while a small gasp escapes her mouth after she’d covered it with her hand. Without hesitation she jumps up from the couch and storms out of the apartment. It’s as if all the alcohol left her system in a snap of a second and she’s never been more focused -or worried- before. Slamming the door shut with a loud bang and while running she dials a number. Hearing it ring a couple of times, after which a person on the other end of the line picks up and speaks:

“National City General, how can I help you?”

///

“Am I ...still alive? …still breathing?”. Vaguely perceiving all kinds of beeping noises and a pungent, hygienic smell that’s hanging around makes you feel nauseous. Carefully opening your eyelids as you give yourself some time to adjust to the bright lights. All too familiar with the place you’re at. “Again? How many times is this going to happen?”. No recollection what time it is or even which day of the week ...or month? Different types of wires are attached to you and fluids with medicine is entering your body through the IV. You try to lift your head up and inspect the room, but it’s hard, almost impossible. Your whole body is aching, muscles are sore, and the pain caused you to let out a deep groan.

Hearing the low sound, Alex promptly jumped up, since she had fallen asleep in the chair, exhausted from the constant state of uncertainty she was in. You take in the sight of her, pale skin, red eyes and it seems she hasn’t slept for days. Now standing beside you at the edge of the hospital bed, she takes your hand and clutches it delicately. You try to speak.  

“H-how l-long... “, stuttering with a dry, hoarse throat. “Have I been on life support? On ventilation?”, you think, feeling your trachea burn and having difficulty speaking. Alex is aware of your struggle and answers: “You’ve been in a coma for weeks now. To reduce brain swelling and give your body time to heal.”

In shock, you gape at her as the color drained out of your face and try to point at your neck with your other hand. “They’ve had you on ventilation, yes. Does your throat hurt?” she caringly asks. You weakly nod at her. Alex averts her gaze towards the bleak hospital floor. “It-it was pretty bad… You were in pretty bad shape ...and had stopped breathing. I-I thought…”. She said with a trembling voice, not able to finish the sentence. You grip her hand tighter with all the strength left and press to her, now with a more audible tone: “I’m still here. Still breathing''. You've locked eyes with her again and watch Alex staring at your poor face. You smile at her, and she matches you by showing a faint grin when you notice she’s desperately fighting back the tears that are heaping up in the corners of her eyes. She leans forward and gives you a tender kiss on the forehead while a doctor enters the room.

“I see you’re fully conscious now. Good”, she says as you and Alex turn to her. “Given your history I don’t have to explain everything in detail to you, sadly. I won’t lie, you have a tough road up ahead”.

Knowing it all too well due to your past experience. You have to go through rehabilitation all over again. Only the thought of it makes you feel even more miserable. However, that’s not all. It’s also the feeling of being weak, helpless, not able to do easy or simple tasks yourself since you don’t have the strength for it, yet. You have to start at square one again, and this time it’s your own damn fault. Alex noticed the sad, hopeless expression and strokes your shoulder gently. You look at her. This time you're not alone, Alex has been beside you, from the moment you were brought in injured up till now.

“I’m not going to leave your side, not ever. I’ll be here with you, every single step of the way”. Those words hit you right in the feels as teardrops started to run down your face. You tried to pull her closer with the little power you have in your hand which Alex was still hanging on to. Luckily she understood the hint and moves closer while she cups your face with both her hands. Brushing her thumbs across your cheeks mildly, wiping the tears away. Bringing her lips to yours, kissing you, slow and passionate, as if she thought this would have never, ever been possible again. You taste the saltiness on her lips, since Alex wasn’t able to hold her tears back any longer. By that time the doctor had left to give you a moment alone and to let it all sink in. However, with impeccable timing Kara barged in and rushed towards you, seeing that you’ve woken up. You and Alex being kinda busy, in a legit emotional sentiment, while Kara swoopes in, now at the other side of the bed. She squeezes herself in between Alex and you to make room and gives you a hug.

“Can’t breathe”, you moan, because Kara her hug is obviously too tight, and not to mention the weakened condition you’re in. 

“Oh, sorry! I’m just so glad you’re awake”, she apologizes as she quickly pulled back. Kara straightens her glasses and immediately starts to talk, telling you stories about her Supergirl adventures with Dreamer, who you’ve apparently met before, reporter news, how matters at the DEO progressed, about J’onn and his PI office, and many more. It hurts, cause these are all moments you missed out on. Although you love the distraction, not having to think about the obstacles you’ll need to face, and it’s nice to know that everybody is doing well. Being hesitant at first, and undeniably a little pissed at Kara for ruining the moment back there, Alex joins the story telling later on, seeing you enjoy hearing them. After a while she notices you’re getting tired, knowing Kara can be rather overwhelming. “I think (Y/N) needs to rest for a bit”, she mentions and raised her eyebrows as she’s looking at Kara with a piercing gaze. “Eh, yes. Um- I’ll go. See you later (Y/N)! I’ll tell the others you’re awake!”, Kara responds while leaving the hospital room in a rush. “Bye Kara”, you deliver too late, cause she’s already gone, and you turn to Alex. “Something wrong?”. You’ve sensed a weird vibe hanging around the entire time since you’ve woken up. You can clearly see it in Alex her dazzling, brown eyes. It’s guilt. Alex takes a step back from the bed, thereby letting go of your hand, instantly losing her warm touch. She stays quiet, avoiding eye contact as she’s gazing out the window while biting her lip nervously. “Alex, is it about the phone-”.

“It’s all my fault that this happened. I’m the reason you left the apartment and I-I didn’t pick up the phone and I was too late at the hospital and I said those mean, awful words and I-”. “STOP”, you interrupt, now coughing due to the loud voice you had to use, heart rate spiking which is displayed on the monitor.

“It was my mess that caused this. And that asshole of a DEO Agent of course…”, you mutter. You really hate that guy. "I picked that fight and- Wait... what mean, awful words did you say about me?”.

“Ow, um- no, I said some, like, awful things inside my head. Which I deeply regret now-”, Alex confesses while rubbing the back of her neck in embarrassment. “It’s okay”, you chuckle, she's just too good for this world and you probably deserved it anyway. “It’s all good”.

“I wasn’t ready to say goodbye to you”. Alex takes a step closer again and pauses. “I thought that ...I was never going to see you again. To speak to you again. To hold you again…. To kiss you again”, she whispers with a quivering voice. “But I’m still here. And you're here. With me. That’s all that matters now”. Meanwhile, you carefully shifted to the left side of the bed, creating some room on the small mattress. Glancing at Alex and making an inviting gesture while tapping on the empty spot with your right hand. You feel her warm body moving closer as she comes lying next to you. Her head resting on your chest and you wrap your free arm around her, wanting to hold her forever and to never let her go. "I've missed you", Alex voices in a softhearted tone and closes her eyes. She’s extremely tired, now finally able to get some well-deserved rest, knowing you’re all right and that everything will be fine.   

“What happened to that DEO Agent anyway?”, you suddenly remember. Kinda hoping he got punished for what he did. “He got arrested for assault and is locked up”, Alex answers directly, her eyes still closed. “Good, he got what he deserved”. It’s quiet again, aside from the occasional sound made by the medical equipment in the room. Breathing frequency becoming slower and slower, relaxing in your arms, dozing off, almost asle-

“Did you guys have game nights without me by the way?”. “Come on (Y/N), you need to sleep”, Alex suggests as she lifted her head up, now staring at you with a commanding expression on her face.

“Copy that, Director Danvers”, you return with a smirk, kinda loving the bossy side of her. She’s right though, you’re completely worn-out and need to recharge. But you can’t help it, wanting to cherish this moment for as long as possible. You grip her tighter, or at least try to, to keep her close, to feel her touch, her warmth, her heartbeat. It doesn’t take long for you both to fall asleep. It’s peaceful and despite the delay, you’re together, at last.

///

A sudden slip to the right, followed by mean right hook. The muscles in your arms and shoulders are burning. Completely out of breath, deeply inhaling to fill your lungs with oxygen. And exhale again. Sweat is coating your forehead and you wipe it off with your arm. You’re a total mess. Only one round to go and then you’ve reached the goal. Throwing a sprint of punches, as fast as you can, it’s mind over matter now. Stopping at the sound of the timer reaching zero, you’re finished. Removing the boxing gloves to grab a towel from the floor nearby to clean yourself up.

“Okay, that’s enough for today”, you pant, weary from the intense workout on the heavy bag. It's been a rough couple of months, you've had extensive rehabilitation training, needed time to heal and were not spared of the pain that came along with it. Giving up was never an option, but becoming your old self again is highly unlikely. The damage has been done, you can't change the past anymore. But you've made peace with it, well, sort of. Luckily you've had tons of support. Friends visiting at the hospital and swinging by your place frequently once you were discharged. It feels so good to be home again. 

While unwrapping your hands, you hear the doorbell of the apartment buzz. Looking up in surprise, who could that be? You rush to the door while throwing the boxing wraps aside, nearly tripped over them, and unlock it. Standing in the doorway, you feel your heart rate rising again, now for a different reason. Still happens every damn time. A satisfying smirk tugged at the corner of your mouth.    

“Hi, forgot the keys again?”, you laugh, lifting up your eyebrow as you smoothly lean against the door frame. “Yeah... but I brought some take-out with me”, Alex counters, pulling up her right arm to show off the bag which carries a delicious scent with it. It would be outrageous to deny this offer of course.   

“Permission hereby granted”, making a humble bow and a gesture with your arm to invite her in. “Also cause I’m literally starving”. Rubbing your stomach with your hands, only being a little dramatic, and you close the door behind you. "Easy (Y/N), you're not turning into Kara are you?".

“Ha. Ha, funny", you sarcastically return."But I’m gonna take a quick shower first. Don’t you dare eat it all Danvers”. Alex placed the food on the kitchen counter and shrugs her shoulders while raising her eyebrows.

“Well, I don’t know, I guess I need something in return then”.

"You sure? You don't want me to shower first?", you assure, still being kinda sweaty with a specific smell that goes with it. Alex walks to you and throws herself into your arms while you place your hands on her hips, her arms resting on your shoulders. "Absolutely sure". Pulling Alex closer and wrapping your arms around her waist as you press your lips onto hers, giving her a desirous kiss. You have to admit, the years of denying and avoiding your feelings for Alex makes you feel utterly stupid, looking back now. Seriously, you were an idiot. A wide smile appears while kissing Alex, because you've never been happier.  

"I love you (Y/N)", Alex softly speaks after she pulled back. "I love you too Alex". Her forehead is resting against yours. "And I'll never stop, as long as I’m still breathing”.    

#alex danvers #alex danvers x reader #alex danvers imagine #alex danvers x you #alex x reader #alex danvers fic #supergirl #supergirl imagine #wlw fiction #wlw imagine #fanfiction #kara danvers

[artemis-entreri]

[[ This post contains Part 6 of my review/analysis of the Forgotten Realms/Drizzt novel, Boundless, by R. A. Salvatore. As such, the entirety of this post’s content is OOC. ]]

Genre: Fantasy

Series: Generations: Book 2 | Legend of Drizzt #35 (#32 if not counting The Sellswords)

Publisher: Harper Collins (September 10, 2019)

My Rating: 2 out of 5 stars

Additional Information: Artwork for the cover of Boundless and used above is originally done by Aleks Melnik. This post CONTAINS SPOILERS. Furthermore, this discussion concerns topics that I am very passionate about, and as such, at times I do use strong language. Read and expand the cut at your own discretion.

Contents:

Introduction

I. Positives I.1 Pure Positives I.2 Muddled Positives

II. Mediocre Writing Style II.1 Bad Descriptions II.2 Salvatorisms II.3 Laborious “Action”

III. Poor Characterization III.1 “Maestro” III.2 Lieutenant III.3 Barbarian III.4 “Hero” III.5 Mother

IV. World Breaks IV.1 Blinders Against the Greater World IV.2 Befuddlement of Earth and Toril IV.3 Self-Inconsistency IV.4 Dungeon Amateur IV.5 Utter Nonsense

V. Ego Stroking V.1 The Ineffable Companions of the Hall V.2 Me, Myself, and I

VI. Problematic Themes (you are here) VI.1 No Homo VI.2 Disrespect of Women VI.3 Social-normalization VI.4 Eugenics

VII. What’s Next VII.1 Drizzt Ascends to Godhood VII.2 Profane Redemption VII.3 Passing the Torch VII.4 Don’t Notice Me Senpai

Problematic Themes

No Homo

Boundless continues to perpetuate some long-standing regressive to outright harmful ideas, as well as introducing new ones. There are two that are the biggest. The first is something that's existed for over two decades in the Drizzt books, and something that I've criticized Salvatore for for a long time: the fetishization of sapphic relationships. While Boundless is an improvement (and a bit of an oddity for Salvatore) in that it doesn't include any gratuitous lesbian sex scenes or allusions, it still very much perpetuates an imbalanced representation, such that it wouldn't be fair to describe it as true representation. Yet again, despite it being canon that the default sexuality in the Realms is pansexuality as opposed to heterosexuality in our world, the only people that we see in Boundless that are capable of same sex attractions are female. Ever since the token gay guy Afrafrenfere's epiphany that everything else he'd been engaged in, which includes his deceased boyfriend, was a distraction from enlightenment, there hasn't been so much of an implication that men could be attracted to other men in Salvatore's Realms. There exists more chemistry between Harbonair and Zaknafein than between Zaknafein and Dab'nay, which is rather sad given that the latter pair are actively sexual with each other. There's of course the possibility that Salvatore just doesn't know how to write gay male chemistry, but to be fair, his heterosexual chemistry is pretty bad. Most of it is just sex or another physical act spontaneously happening that triggers a change in the nature of the relationship, for instance, the start of the relationship between Entreri and Calihye. There's so much background "everyone is heterosexual" stuff going on that to be inclusive, Salvatore just needs to mention that there's more than one man in an orgy rather than it always being one man to many women. Or, better yet, use an example directly from the world canon that other authors have used, namely, that the workers of a brothel or attendants in a temple of Sune are of more than one gender and that a male client is greeted by both male, female, and other gender-identifying attendants. Casual inclusion of this nature isn't difficult, and we see Salvatore do it with sapphic stuff enough that leads me to believe that it's a choice on his part not to be fully inclusive. 

An example of when Salvatore could've gone for inclusion, but instead went for fetishization, is in the scene of Dahlia infiltrating a Waterdhavian nobles' ball:

This isn't much better than gratuitous lesbian sex scenes at the total exclusion of gay men. It's completely unnecessary for Salvatore to have specified that women also drooled after Dahlia; simply stating "people" would've been sufficient. It's not like Salvatore doesn't have many chances and setups where he can drop a hint that gay men exist in the Realms like he does so frequently for gay women. Oftentimes, Salvatore's writing feels very much like he realizes that there's "too much" chemistry between two male characters, such that he has to throw in a "NO HOMO" wrench. For instance:

While there isn't anything inherently gay in this passage, there isn't anything inherently gay in so many places where Salvatore artificially injected "these women are sapphic" indicators. Yet here, between two male characters, it's specifically clarified that it's brotherly love. Love is love, it shouldn't have to be clarified like this. Sure, some people might jump to romantic love, but so what? This was a good opportunity to at the very least, leave it vague, but apparently Salvatore can't stomach it enough that he has to cross the possibility out with a bold black marker (maybe its the same sharpie he uses on the tapestry of Faerûn). It's as though the possibility of romantic love between two men somehow taints the sacredness of their bond. Salvatore's writing style is very old-fashioned and set in its ways, but that's no excuse not to change. Despite his espoused views on social media, Salvatore's lack of representation in his writing suggests a discomfort that he doesn't want to address. This is increasingly problematic as we try to push to a better world with more acceptance and equality. Inclusion isn't truly inclusion if it's done with only a portion of the population. 

Disrespect of Women

What Salvatore does with sapphic women is fetishization, which is additionally problematic because it's a short hop from objectification of women. This point is one that I haven't touched on much in the past, but it's glaring in Boundless because in this novel, Salvatore also tries to demonstrate respect of women. Salvatore has a long history of poorly-written female characters. In his books, a female character's most redeeming characteristics were that she was hot and young. For a while, I could tell which female characters were there to stay, which were doomed to die from the get-go, and which would suffer horribly as they met their inevitable end. It always had to do with how physically attractive the character was, and usually with respect to how she measured up to Catti-brie's beauty. Not counting female villains like Sheila Kree who were not coincidentally unattractive, protagonist characters weren't spared this treatment. For instance, Delly Curtie didn't hold a candle to Catti and could barely find happiness with Catti's rejected suitor. By the same token, Innovindil, who, despite being a full-blooded elf, wasn't as beautiful as Catti, and was subsequently very short-lived. Dahlia, another full-blooded elf who wasn't as beautiful as Catti, admittedly didn't die (yet), but what she went through is arguably worse. Dahlia is portrayed to be very much second best to Catti, from her looks to her rejection by Drizzt to Catti outright beating Dahlia in a fight. So, of course, Dahlia gets stuck with Entreri, who's frequently portrayed as second best to Drizzt. Salvatore does deserve credit for trying to break the mold with Penelope Harpell and Wulfgar, but Penelope's appearance doesn't leave much of an impression. We're reminded multiple times that she's an older woman, and the focus is on her personality, but with how often younger female characters' physical appearance is mentioned and re-mentioned, it gives the impression that Salvatore doesn't believe older women can be physically attractive. As always, Catti-brie was an exception to the rule, for even in her mid-forties, "her form, a bit thicker with age, perhaps, but still so beautiful and inviting to [Drizzt]", a characterization that follows another sentence describing how beautiful she was barely a page prior. But we don't hear such about Penelope, instead, we're told about the strengths of her personality, which are admirable, but only become the focus for her, rather than for a young-appearing strong female character like Yvonnel the Second. This is not to mention that someone's form probably shouldn't be characterized as inviting, as that is something the person should do, not something done by the person's looks. The objectification of women is problematic enough on its own, but instead of addressing the issue, Salvatore appears to consider it sufficient to put in a significant anecdote featuring a temporary character to prove that he is an ally to women. The mysterious "demon" possessing the little girl Sharon is painted as a moral adjudicator, entrapping the evil in its unbreakable cocoons filled with wasps that have human faces. Before this "demon" entraps Entreri, it ensnares an old man, whom we're simply told is an old lecher, with no insight about what makes him such and what wrongdoings he'd committed. All we know is that he and his wife attempted to kidnap Sharon and threatened to kill her if she resisted. It's not very clear what's going on in that scenario or what the couple's intentions were. The man's description shifts suddenly from nothing to "old lecher", and he is damned to an eternity of suffering. But how was he a lecher? Was Salvatore trying to imply that he intended to sexually assault Sharon? Or was human trafficking one of his many sins, with the "lecher" part referring to how he is towards women? While all of these crimes certainly warrant harsh punishment, the message that Salvatore's trying to convey isn't clear. Furthermore, the anecdote gives the reader zero satisfaction in the guy's punishment, because we're only marginally invested in what's happened. His anecdote is nothing more than a cheap and lazy setup to illustrate what the "demon" can do.

Social-normalization

The second of the two worst among Salvatore's long-standing problematic themes is the simplified and social-normative qualifications of what makes a person worthwhile. To put it simply, one is good and just if they are the Companions of the Hall and/or act like them, despite the many many ways that the Companions behave unheroically and hypocritically. On the flip side, one who doesn't subscribe to or follow the model of the Companions is evil, bad, or not worthy of existence unless they change to become like the Companions. Of the latter group, it isn't sufficient to change to become a different version of themselves. For instance, during the demonic assault, Zaknafein throws himself into the fray of battle, risking his life, yet again, for his ungrateful son. Yet, Drizzt's takeaway from watching his father do this is, "joy to see his father so willingly risking his life for the cause of the goodly folk of the Crags". There appears to be a subconscious inconsistency here on Salvatore's part, for he even writes that Zaknafein helps the dwarves because Zaknafein knows it's what his son wants him to do, so removing Drizzt from the picture, Zaknafein wouldn't be doing it solely on behalf of the dwarves. Zaknafein isn't Drizzt, and that's a good thing, for not everything needs to be a Drizzt clone, but Salvatore doesn't seem to agree with that assessment. 

Salvatore doesn't seem to realize that Drizzt is the problematic one. Boundless represents a point in time in which it's been awhile since Zaknafein has returned. During this time, while Zaknafein has been trying to adapt and adjust his worldviews, Drizzt's perspective hasn't changed at all, despite Jarlaxle spending a great amount of time talking to him about Zaknafein and presumably helping Drizzt get past the initial emotional turmoil of the return of Zaknafein and his own struggles with reconciling the past and the present. There's also a double-standard here, for while Entreri is forced to change because enough time has gone by, Drizzt isn't. 

It really seems to be the message that the only characters that are good and valid need to be as close to Drizzt as possible, and this belief applied to Entreri has been the cause of the assassin's increasingly poor characterization. Entreri has become a "better person" by the narrator's approximation, a quality that is, yet again, not coincidentally synonymous to being an ally to the Companions of the Hall. Artemis Entreri may very well have become a better version of himself, but that is not, and should not be, becoming more like the Companions of the Hall. By whose definition is "a better person" anyway? By Drizzt's? By the Companions'? It's often the case that those that believe that they are the definition of what's right and define others' morality relative to themselves are the least qualified to do so. 

Eugenics

Although not as prominent as the two themes already mentioned, one final consistent problematic theme of Salvatore's in the Drizzt books that I'd like to discuss is the idea that mediocrity and excellence are inherited traits. Boundless reminds us yet again that all of the offspring of Rizzen are as unpromising as he is, and while it isn't specifically stated that all the offspring of Zaknafein is very much otherwise, we have over thirty books basically telling us that so it probably doesn't need to be repeated. While it is true that genetics do play a role in determining what makes up a person, genetics do not lock in guaranteed results. Yet, the undistinguished Rizzen sired "the mediocrity of Nalfein", and as though that insult wasn't bad enough, "His pants fell down, too. Again, and as expected, unimpressive." Dinin "would do Rizzen proud", but that's not saying a whole lot because it was in the context of the total failure of Nalfein. There's a further level of problematic theme here, for perpetuating the stereotype that a man's worth is at all related to the size of his genitalia. All of that aside, not everyone is privileged enough to be born to top specimens, and those that weren't inherently already have a struggle on their hands. They don't deserve to have the idea that they'll be mediocre no matter what perpetuated. Genetics might be what makes an individual, but what defines them is the actions that they take.

#legend of drizzt #Forgotten Realms #d&d #Artemis Entreri #Drizzt #Drizzt Do'Urden #zaknafein do'urden #dahlia sin'felle #Catti-Brie #penelope harpell #Wulfgar son of Beornegar #Yvonnel Baenre #Companions of the Hall #jarlaxle baenre #Afrafrenfere #Harbonair Tr'Arach #Dab'nay Tr'Arach #Calihye #Sune #Showithal Terdidy #Doregardo #Faerun #Delly Curtie #lgbt representation #homophobia #R A Salvatore #Boundless #book review #Sheila Kree #Sharon

[sportsarenotoxygen]

GOM valentine’s HCs

some late gom+kuroko+momoi x reader (separately) valentine’s hcs that have probably been done to death before but i still wanted to write some so here! please enjoy!

akashi

akashi definitely shows how happy and grateful he is when he gets your chocolates. so much that he’s almost acting strange if you didn’t know him so well

(because he remembers all those days his mother tried to give his father love and never received any acknowledgement in return. he is not repeating that with you)

he’s super freaking happy and smothers you with kisses and cuddles

then he starts giving back

really giving back like he stays with you the whole day, is a complete gentleman (but more than usual because let’s be real he always is), more affectionate, really does not let you lift a finger

you: sei you know it’s okay, i can carry one bag

akashi: nonsense, it’s my thanks for those chocolates you made. which i absolutely loved by the way

you: you...you said that when you paid for lunch. and when you drove us to the park. and--

akashi: it’s my thanks. for the chocolates i loved. did i mention they were delicious--

you, blushing: ohmygod okay okay fine

midorima

if it’s your unlucky day, midorima’s gonna be watching your back and making this day as good as it could get because yes he believes in oha asa but he will not allow bad luck to ruin your day because he knows you’ve been working so hard to make this day good for the both of you

if it’s his unlucky day, he’s gonna be on edge maybe even entertaining thoughts of whether he should be near you so you’ll have to reassure him that all will be fine

you, over the phone: but i have to give you my gifts!!!!!

midorima: your chances of having a good day will be drastically lowered if i’m with you, so i’ll pick them up tomorrow, nanodayo

you: shintaro! dont! you! dare! think! you! could! ruin! my! day! you make my day so you better!!!! 

midorima: i’m sorry y/n, but i don’t want to risk it

you: well i guess i’ll just wait at the cafe by myself...with all these couples around me...

midorima, guilty: fine. but only for an hour

he’s got your lucky item ready and his own when he gets there

you don’t make a letter for him though, you merely just give a speech about every thing you love about him from his belief in oha asa, to the way he looks out for you, to his love for basketball, his manner of speech and everything else (yes right in that cafe. the elderly couple in the next table over are giving you such fond looks)

by the end of it, he’s a blushing mess and that’s what your goal was all along let’s be honest

aomine

he pretends to think valentine’s a really tacky and stupid day and how ‘theres no point giving anything on this particular day its just stupid’

so much so that you hesitate when giving your chocolates 

you hesitate so much so that he notices and now that he notices he feels slightly bad and tries to drop some hints 

you, reluctantly: it’s really...all in your face huh 

aomine, swearing at himself: it’s not too bad

but when you go the whole day without giving him anything he starts getting worried

aomine, thinking: crap did you think i meant all that

of course, if you actually got him nothing that’s fine too but he doesn’t want the reason you got him nothing was because he thinks it’s stupid

especially when he sees how you’re pointedly trying to ignore every other couple

so, just as you two are about to part ways, he goes

‘look, you know i didnt mean any of that stupid shit. i dont mind valentines chocolates or anything i was just being stupid’

he’s scared to look at you but when he does

youre giving him this shit-eating grin

you, smug: so you finally admit it huh

aomine: what the hell y/n

you reveal that you just wanted him to say all that and now that he has, you’ve won!

he’s half red because of frustration and half because of embarrassment but well

that’s one of the reasons he loves you ofc

kise, murasakibara, kuroko, momoi under the cut!

kise

patiently waits for his chocolates

patiently

but he has to wait hourrrrssss because he has a photoshoot that day which sucks because he’d wanted to stay over so he wouldn’t get caught with fans going over

and inevitably he does get caught by a bunch of fans and gets given loads of chocolates from them

but of course he’s waiting for yours

so he can’t wait until he meets up at your house and you greet him with a bright smile and his is equally as bright

he’s really not subtle at all

kise: hey hey y/n-cchi did you make me some chocolates?????? im really craving chocolates today!!!!!! chocolates you made!!!!! because i love you!!!!! (he had been too excited to realise mayyybe bringing over the chocolates his fans gave him would give the wrong impression so he hastily shoved them all under his coat at the last minute this boy)

you: you can just say you want some you know...i know its valentines 

when you give it to him he’s over the moon. he’s...very dramatic when he tastes them. like a lot

kise: THESE ARE SO GOOD Y/N-CCHI THE BEST CHOCOLATES IVE EATEN IN MY LIFE I LOVE THEM SO MUCH I LOVE YOU--

you, slightly worried: thanks. i think. you know if they’re bad you can just say so--

kise: NO THEY’RE GOOD I SWEAR I JUST

he’s crying tears of joy this silly boy

murasakibara

don’t go outside with this boy during valentine’s 

he will see all those chocolates and sweets and will need them

goodbye money 

you have to promise to buy them all when the clearance sales come out but you and murasakibara enjoy a day-in together maybe baking some sweets yourself because you know that he does actually like to bake despite how ‘lazy and unreluctant’ he seems

he unintentionally does the move where he kisses you and says ‘oh there was something on your face’ because there was genuinely something on your face and he does not realise what a cliche cheesy romance film move that is

you already have some sweets ready so he munches on them whilst you wait for the others to finish

and surprisingly, murasakibara gives you half of what you both made. its special because he usually just gives like...a quarter which is fair because your appetites are nowhere near the same let’s be honest

he does it because he vaguely recalls muro-chin saying something about how “valentine’s day is a special day for y/n-san” and slightly misinterprets it 

it’s a touching gesture coming from him of course

you gotta cherish it because once you two go buy those leftover sweets the next day...

kuroko

you know him well enough by now that you understand that despite how small his smile is, he’s smiling wide inside when you give him the vanilla milkshake you made and maji burger coupons you made/got

he asks for the recipe to make and even though you’re more than willing to tell it to him, he insists that you need to show it to him

you, explaining: so then you just add the rest of the--

kuroko: i apologise, i do not understand, y/n-san. can you please show it to me instead?

you: are you sure? i’m sure you can do it fine!!! here, i’ll write it down!!

kuroko: no, please. i am not confident in my ability. i will be more confident with you by my side 

you blush at his words because they are so genuinely truthful but also cheesy af

so, kinda like murasakibara, you guys make some vanilla milkshakes together

kuroko smiles a heck of a lot but it’s always when you’re back is turned whether it’s getting the ingredients from the cupboard or turning the blender on so you miSS A LOT OF BEAUTIFUL SMILES FROM THIS BOY 

but in the end you two make more than enough for the both of you so you have to store some for later

it only makes the memories last all the more

momoi

well its canon that shes not...great at cooking and that goes for baking 

and contrary to popular belief, she is aware of that fact (she just tries realllllly hard to deny it because her food tastes fine!!! maybe burnt or salty af but fine!!!)

so she tries this time

employing kagami to help her through saying dai-chan will do a one-on-one with him (its not true but. but she will get the redhaired boy to help her make these chocolates the best damn thing you’ve ever tasted or else)

its hard work (kagami thinks he’s worked harder than any basketball game ever)

but the work pays off and the chocolates taste..................good!!!!

momoi is sooooooo excited to give them to you (because of course she is she’s a romantic)

you on the other hand are searching on google for “how to eat food you don’t like” “how to not gag” “how to lie”

because you love love love momoi and do not want to hurt her feelings but h o w will you eat what she makes

so you get such a huge surprise when you anxiously bite into the chocolate and it’s.......

amazing 

and maybe it’s just your love for momoi making you really biased but damn it’s so good!!

momoi, worriedly because you haven’t really moved for a few minutes: is it good????

you: ...no--

momoi, panicking: *thinking* nononono but but kagami said it was good did he lie i am going to kill him ohmygodohmygod

you: it’s the best chocolates i’ve ever eaten

#kuroko no basuke #akashi seijuurou x reader #kise ryouta x reader #aomine daiki x reader #murasakibara atsushi x reader #midorima shintarou x reader #kuroko tetsuya x reader #momoi satsuki x reader #kuroko no basket #akashi seijuurou #kise ryouta #aomine daiki #murasakibara atsushi #midorima shintarou #kuroko tetsuya #momoi satsuki

[cruddyborderlandstheories]

I was talking to my good friend The Wild West Pyro and he brought up a good point that “we don't know why Tannis dropped hints about TPS's overarching plot and the setup to BL3, but it shows that Tannis has known about this for a very, very long time. Perhaps even as far back as BL1.”

so, basically, (um) I really don’t want Tannis to be evil, and this sparked a theory for me, so here’s some totally unfounded ramblings:

tl;dr: eridians wrote about the future they saw in elpis in some ruins around the vault of the destroyer, warning for it to never be opened or the end of the universe will come about in year 2xxx, which is why it was sealed away. tannis translates this (probably after they open the vault in bl1 but before TPS) and is like “oh fuck lmao” but the others are like “nahhh we killed the destroyer, no worries” and she’s like “uh-huh”, but also is doing all this shady stuff like slag experimentation and plant monster armies because she wants to prevent the destruction of said universe. also i want the bl3 vault hunters to be the heroes of the logs prophecy mostly bc i wanna see what the aliens think of Fl4k. ‘we’ve seen the short one get inside a big metal vehicle temporarily... is this metal one piloted by an even smaller fleshy one?’

What if the Eridians locked away the Destroyer because they used Elpis’s Vault to see (calculate... still think it’s a big computer) the future and saw the Destroyer ending the universe and wrote about it in their ruins around the Vault of the Destroyer, that's the explanation as to why they locked it away. Something ominous like the oncoming apocalypse and their attempt to stop it by locking away the Destroyer, so do not open the Vault for any reason.

“I explained to my mother how the translation program i was writing would greatly help me understand exactly what all this eridian text i’ve attempted to decipher actually means... my program was able to decipher quite a bit more than I had been able to before. it will take a few days to fix... it looks like there are extreme measures to keep the Vault secure, but that it can be opened every 200 years...”

So, Tannis, who translated these ruins, then knows that the end of the universe is coming ("I thought we still had 7 years until that happened") because she's one of (if not the only) person who knows how to translate these ruins, the Eridians probably saw this event happening in the far future and locked the Destroyer away to prevent it. 

Given that Jack’s short glimpse showed him the exact ending to borderlands 2, despite all his attempts to save Angel, I think this means no matter what you do, whatever you see in there is going to happen. Zarpedon saw the end of the universe, she tried her best to prevent it and died. I’m sure the Eridians did, too, and they’re all trying their damndest to stop it. The Watcher no doubt already knows this and that’s probably why she’s warning Lilith at the end of TPS. Hey, the end of the universe IS going to happen in borderlands 3. maybe u wanna not kill anyone who can help us stop it?

And maybe Tannis brought this up to Roland/Lilith, but was dismissed because 'we killed that twice lol', you know, to hand wave away the 'why didn't she tell anyone' argument. maybe she did, and was shot down. And maybe she didn't press because ‘you know what they did kill it, maybe these ruins are inaccurate because they never foresaw someone killing it (but, also, maybe not)”. 

So, she spends the rest of her free time trying to create a failsafe for when the Destroyer returns (or, you know, whatever that end of the universe scenario is). That is, she’s trying to create artificial Sirens, she's trying to buff up the Crimson Raiders with digistruct peak, she's trying to create a plant army, all not because she's actually wanting of this huge power (as someone with severe social anxiety, that would be a Worst Nightmare), but because she's trying to stop the inevitable destruction of our universe.

And, yeah, maybe she aided in the creation of the Calypso Twins, the ones who are going to bring about the end of the universe, and this is all a self-fulfilling prophecy (still doing a thinking emoji on this one, ngl. literally one of the first theories i ever posted here so idk how i feel about it. maybe thru her info getting to hyperion... yeah i aaam working on that theory, ive just been super busy lately and im doing the new IGN stuff rn, they’re flooding me with beautiful content). Also, I really want to believe ‘Tannis is not what she seems’ is because she’s been trying to give herself Siren/Eridium/Slag powers, not because she’s evil or, like, an alien or something. Like, yeah, it could be that the devs are just trying to deflect suspicion for the reveal, buuuuut... I really hope not. I just want there to be a scene where we’re on planet and lilith is like talking to us, then there’s a commotion in the background and it goes silent. then lilith is like “hey, uh, we need you back up here as soon as possible” and as soon as you teleport in there’s a cutscene and tannis has Siren tattoos or some powers or whatever and everyone is freaking tf out and gathered in the common area (the one with the pool table). 

also, if this whole prophecy of the end of the universe theory IS true, how tf are the four vault hunters in bl3 supposed to stop this inevitable shitfest from going down? no fucking clue lmao. maybe the eridians only ever saw the beginnings of the universal apocalypse and assumed it was the end of everything. altho... now how fuckin cool would it be if we found some Eridian logs (the diamond slabs) for Tannis to decipher and they began describing our VHs vaguely as they were depicted in the vision? four heroes of alien origin.... all glowing and with guns... aw man. now im hyped for something that’s probably not going to happen. (inb4 the moon is called elpis (‘Hope’) because it showed the eridians the bl3 vault hunters fighting back against the apocalypse.) this could kinda explain why gearbox is so against dlc vault hunters lol. like how they didn’t add in ECHO logs for Gaige or Krieg... i know Timothy has some, though! hmmmmmm. maybe gaige’s were meant to be added but they never did for some reason? i did find them in her dlc files... guess it’s not a great explanation afterall lol.

Anyway, blah blah, I don't want Tannis to be evil, eridians can SeE tHe FuTuRe and i want the bl3 Vault Hunters to be the heroes of prophecy because that’s just hilarious to me.

#borderlands #bl3 #borderlands 3 #tannis is not what she seems

[eighthmnth-blog]

          -------------- and he shall be levon       ( and he shall be a good man )    and he shall be levon       ( in tradition with the family plan )

and i oop

none of this is going to make sense. im really really tired. ive been in a hot car all day sldjskld baking. crispy. now im going to sleep before work,,, but wrow hi im r, im way too excited to be here. this intro is ?? too long but after all these years ive never learned how to stfu. i COULD have done this sooner but i also turned my brain off last night and watched baby driver for the first time and wow 10/10 would recommend sdksjdlkas i dont have discord because im living in the stone age  but im available via tumblr ims if anyone wants to plot --- ill prop make a proper connection page 2mmrow,, just fuck him up. honestly. ruin him. take out the trash.

basics    

[ luke hemmings. twenty-three. cismale. he/him. | muse 4b. ] levon by elton john just came on the radio and it made me think of august ferland. they’ve been in sundance for their whole life and they’re currently an administrative assistant. if you’re looking for them, try by the sheriff’s office, locals say they’re there a lot. [ r. she/them. 20. est. ]

SUBPLOT       if someone asked who sundance’s bad seed is, most people would say muse 4a. always getting in trouble for one reason or another, muse 4a has just never been one to follow rules. maybe that’s why muse 4b, the sheriffs child, is so drawn to them. muse 4a and muse 4b have been hooking up pretty casually, but muse 4b’s soft nature is causing them to fall for sundance’s baddest seed while muse 4a is only interested in hooking up. will muse 4a break muse 4b's heart? what would the sheriff say if they found out?

nonsensical ramblings    

the world is black and white as a child. a young august planted in front of one static plagued television, soaking up the world of cops and robbers. a mop of blond hair and a missing front tooth, beaming proudly “ MY FATHER’S THE SHERIFF “ , a hero in the boy’s mind. black & white. good versus bad.

then comes middle school, high school, and everything thereafter. it’s living under a microscope. small-town living & dealing out the law don’t tend to equate to a private life. sometimes august knows people’s business before they do —- other times the positions are reversed. it wasn’t the easiest of days, far from the romanticized lifestyle often portrayed on screen. the chill of cold shoulders never fades over the years. children told to steer clear of the ferland boy lest they find themselves under sundance’s watchful eye. the SHERIFF’S SON, an undesired spotlight.  as the years come and go, he wonders how he once wore that title with pride.

they made an angel of him. almost golden. of course, the teenage years are a rocky patch for anyone. the spark of rebellion, even he wasn’t immune. eighteen and sneaking out with his father’s pistol, shooting cans and bottles --- until he puts one single bullet through a neighbor’s window. that summer spent wasting away under a scorching sun, completing mundane tasks to earn enough to pay for the replacements. it’s out of character for him, but they write it off as a minor scare --- a teenager. no one was hurt, so all’s well that ends well. right ?

he tires of daily life. the yearning for something more never dies, it just lays dormant. only rarely given a breath of life. he grows exhausted of the endless pestering and gossip tucked in church pews. of the polite smiles and polished image. ‘ when will you settle down ? find a nice girl ? are you going to take over the station ? look at how much you’ve grown. ‘twenty-three years too long in sundance.

he knew the names before he saw them in ink at the station. his father’s endless rants, the population that put grey in his hair. miscreants, that august was explicitly told never to associate with. words that fell on deaf ears and then he goes the extra mile. he can’t help but feel a hint of shame, but never enough for him to put a stop to the sneaking. the town’s bad seed --- the sheriff’s greatest adversary and the cause of most, if not all, of his migraines. then there was august, like a moth to an open flame. it must have been some ultimate form of karma when he realizes something’s changed. the rules of the game aren’t so simple anymore, there’s more at stake. just like that, he’s damned them all. the heart wants what it wants, and now he’s cast as the fool. play with fire, get burned.

1% more brainpower used here       ( background broken down simply )

his aesthetic is that feeling you get when all your extended family ask about your dating life at the family barbecue. vague ??? maybe so, but it triggers something in me.

he’s dumb, and a tad naive lbh, but this is august.. the sheriff’s son if that hasn’t become,,, really obvious. in the brief readings i did beforehand, it seems like small-town sheriffs can sometimes have a bit of a spotlight on themselves and their family so i kind of envisioned him as being borderline lonely in his youth due to the fact people don’t want to find themselves under the microscope by being friends with the sheriff/’s family.  i think the whole sheriff thing has been a big,,, oof in his life. there are probably places he can’t go because his dad arrested the cook in the back or things along those lines.

he’s bored. he has a wifi connection. if his family didn’t think he wasn’t going to get glimpses of the outside world and want to get the fuck out of dodge then idk my dude.

he works as an administrative assistant at the station,, so he’s mainly handling the paperwork and stuff, but id imagine he's a bit of a jack of all trades in the field. takes calls, but also probably gets sent out for the really shitty jobs like the old lady who calls ten times a day for nothing, or that she’s getting calls from scammers :))) but he ain’t going out arresting anyone or doing anything serious. just the “my cat’s in a tree” bs and getting coffee.

in the public eye, he’s probably a real golden child. volunteering, going to church, helping out wherever he can. does he have a genuine interest in any of that ? absolutely not. but it reflects well on his family and on himself. he has a reputation to upkeep. he only went up to high school education-wise, and in a town that probably isn’t too fast crime wise, he has enough free time to be active in the community.

i dont know what suffers more his brain or his heart

n sync vc: bi bi bi

before my dumbass forgets, he does have a good relationship with his parents,,, when he’s not being a fucking moron. follow your heart?? not good advice for him. his mom is currently abroad. aug probably gets his desire to run from her, she’s currently teaching english abroad. he’s v proud of her tyvm. his dad?? yeah. i mean obvs aug isnt very honest about EVERYTHING. he’s gotten good at telling white lies, but he still loves his dad.  he’s also an only child so all eyes on him rIP.

i have a shitty pinterest board for him HERE there's barely anything there but yknow

he’s currently being sized for his clown shoes

thats all folks

#sundanceintro #im LATE #i spent all day driving my little brother to overnight camp in ?? the middle of nowhere #this is so messy

[pr0sciutt0]

just gonna answer some more anons about the plus size reader stuff below the cut so i don’t clog up the dashboards of all of u lovely followers and then regular service will resume!!!!

Anonymous said to pr0sciutt0:Yay!! Im so excited! Thank you for being willing to write for poc! Readers and im excited to read the fic you linked! As a plus size girl myself, Whenever I read fics where the reader is I cant help but feel more confident about the parts of me Im self conscious about. Also im so glad you write with us in mind ❤️❤️ and Ive got even more admiration for your work! That anon must not realize most fics are small figure based 🙄 im sure they can get over it. They were being rude.

representation is important!!! i have life experience of writing for characters with dysphoria and chubby characters and lots of others so seeing them represented makes me feel happy, and i’m glad i can do something for other ppl too!! just pls remember that i am white and i may very well fuck up so pls do not be afraid to call me out!!! <3 

Anonymous said to pr0sciutt0:Oh geez, there's plenty of reader fics I don't read because they don't apply to me (like of a specific gender or sexuality) but I just skip them and move on. There's still plenty of stuff out there! I also don't like going into detail about Reader's physical appearance, unless, like you said it's specifically asked for.

bird meme “i am uncomfortable when we are not about me???”. i like to write vague stuff so as many people can connect to it as possible! that’s why if i get an ask that’s very obviously for someone’s o/c or whatever i prefer not to answer it bc i want my content to be enjoyable for lots of people!!!

Anonymous said to pr0sciutt0:Ive read your terzetto fic about a million times and even though its about a chubby reader you still dont describe the body THAT much like???? Anon just say you're fatphobic and move on

and its like. specifically THAT chapter. the body praise self-conscious chapter. i havent reviewed the others in a while so there might be more bigger readers but like, not all of them?! i try not to over-describe even for plus size reader’s bodies bc people carry their weights and stuff so differently! haz and i wear the same size in clothes but we carry our weight differently in different places so we look different!! i want people to Relate!!

jojotrashcan said to pr0sciutt0:Nat!! I just want to thank you for including a chubby reader in your works! As a certified fat gal (tm) it’s hard to identify with works of fiction, and it’s nice finally having something that reflects my body type! So just like a huge thank you from me! You know this already but I love and appreciate all you do for this community, and it always disappoints me to see someone send hate to some one who works so hard for us! Keep your chin up b/c I appreciate seeing diverse fiction!

i love u!!!! idk if i’ve mentioned before but what i want to do when i eventually Get Better At Not Letting My Mental Illness is work in a publishing house, specifically a YA imprint bc i’d like to make a push for more diverse heroines in ya lit!!! (i also wanna WRITE diverse ya heroines but u feel me, one thing at a time)

Anonymous said to pr0sciutt0:So God forbid someone write for different body types and races I low key just glaze over some fics cause you can tell who it's for even just with little hints of the body or skin type. Can't a girl a plus size girl be loved too by her fictional favorites :(

no . . . fat people . . . MUST BE UNHAPPY. ONLY WAY. 

bubbleu said to pr0sciutt0:Let also include the fact that if in most even kdramas , anime, or any type of tv show or movie if it's a big girl she usually ends up having to lose weight for guys to even like her or even look her way so how dare people be inclusive in fics for fictional people you do you boo I'm happy you're writing for anyone literally fuck that puto

these people are not happy that i’m like a size 18 and my fictional boyfriends still love me. its SO RARE to find a fat gal character where her desire to lose weight isn’t a driving character force. and its always always always framed as a good thing. nobody addresses the original body dislike and just says “WOW IM SO GLAD YOURE NOT FAT ANYMORE” like that isnt gonna leave a lasting scar on the person’s psyche i just

Anonymous said to pr0sciutt0:F the hater, all my big ladies deserve to fantasize about their hot JoJo spouses too!

this is a BODY POSITIVE space. chubby gals and guys and nonbinary pals. skinny gals and guys and nonbinary pals! hyper femme, hyper masc, androgynous, ones with body hair or traditionally ugly features or visible disabilities or scarring or anything - ur jojo spouses love u

Anonymous said to pr0sciutt0:Anon mad that fat people enjoy stuff smh

local anon unhappy that they have found one fic that is not about them

babyybitchhh said to pr0sciutt0:Anon is an entitled ass and I implore you not to let that message get to you. As you said, mentally replacing words to better match your own physical descriptors is super easy but considering that you’re writing these scenarios for free, no one has the right to complain anyway.Like, at the end of the day its still YOUR writing even if your fulfilling a request and the author will always have final say on the finished product. Consider only writing chubby/fat reader from now on tbh ; )

i am pretty much usually imagining a chubby reader or a reader who looks like me. thats why i do it!!!! i honestly just cant imagine going into another writer’s ask and being like “hey you have given me this piece of backstory about this fic you wrote and i HATE IT, IMMEDIATELY DENOUNCE IT???

#nat.txt #fatphobia for ts/// #i promise this is (probably) the last post!

[bladekindeyewear]

Boots Reads Homestuck Epilogue(s) Part 10 - Candy Part 1 again

I was told that finishing the epilogue MAY make me feel better by some with opinions, with some vague hints that the ridiculous start of Candy may have underlying reasons, so now that I’m awake again (though my stomach is roiling a bit again) I’m gonna take another crack at it.

Alright, so I was also hinted that this Candy part ends with a different cliffhanger, so maybe those two will cancel out?  That’s my hope anyway.

Reading page 1 again since I didn’t finish the very tail end of it... alright, so WHY IS ROXY CRYING again????  Was she just PRETENDING that she didn’t know it might turn out bad for John if he went at the end of the last one?  Was there some weird mind-rewriting going on?  Is the crying a symptom of this whole thing potentially being an our!Callie fanfic and she knows what’s being dodged??  Don’t know.

Alright, let’s have him save Gamzee and... is Vriska going to get saved in this version?  Or is that descent into the black hole without seeing what happens her well-deserved comeuppance while only the ghost version of Vriska truly figured out how to be happy?

==>

Dirk acknowledges him when he zaps back, but it’s YOUNG Dirk so hopefully there isn’t any stupid Meat stuff going on.

...Yeah, Gamzee immediately being repentant is weird as shit.  Maybe he Chucklevoodoo’d Callie into escaping him into this whole candied mess so he could start shit, I dunno.  That or this isn’t really Gamzee or someone’s manipulating him or etc etc etc.  The hint I got earlier was that if I thought Calliope wanting to bring Gamzee back and everyone just rolling with it was a little out of character, there are “reasons”, so I’m just going through all of this under the assumption that some emotion-manipulating weirdness is going on regardless.

Oh shit, Gamzee’s going to start recounting his character reasons for doing bad stuff in a surface-hope of justification and understanding.  All the characters immediately recognize how painfully groanworthy this is going to be.

GAMZEE: AnD sUcH iS wHy I’m GrAbBiNg HoLd Of My RePeNtAnCe As FiRm AnD sErIoUs As I wOuLd A wHoRe’S tItTy!

Yeah, that really encapsulates how “serious” all of this is.  And of course, John’s not having any of it.

Yeah, Terezi wouldn’t have any of it either, remotely.

Something feels different, but he can’t put his finger on it.

Hm.  The aforementioned manipulation-weirdness?

==>

Okay, so it’s kind of Dirk who notices something different and is cancelling his stupid villain plans, got it.

Volatility of causality, huh?

(I’m going to be going through these parts a little faster than the Meat section, unsurprisingly.)

==>

Okay, Rose and Kanaya, are we gonna cure her substance abuse or--

With all the distance between them lately,

God damnit, have Dirk’s manipulations extended that far OFFSCREEN or is this legitimate character distancing???? Because either is BAD.  >:(

Right, now that the plot and “relevance” has been sidelined over to a different timeline, Rose can now breathe easy free of her condition.  And whichever parts of her condition were, perhaps, IMPOSED on her.  Fuck.

I’m going to try my fucking best to cling to this, hope I can carry on a memory after this is over that DOESN’T imagine Rose trapped in a fucking existential dying villain coma with a hard fucking cutoff that promises nothing is ever coming to resolve it ever.  (Or Jade in a somewhat-similar sidelined situation, or Jane doomed to fuck herself over and everyone else too, or...)

What’s slipping away instead is the feeling that any of it mattered at all. Was she insane to be so consumed by such lofty concerns, and is she only beginning to experience clarity today, for the first time in ages?

Yeah, you’re no longer in a timeline of Light and relevance.  And that’s not so bad, which is something you never expected to be true given your derision of the concept.  Void is pretty goddamn alright.

--Oh right, the illness and substance abuse probably caused plenty of distance between them.

KANAYA: There Was A Feeling I Couldnt Shake That Something Terrible Was Going To Happen To Us KANAYA: Something That Neither Of Us Could Stop KANAYA: A Powerful Outside Force That Would Take You Away From Me KANAYA: And I Couldnt Stop Myself From Thinking That Maybe KANAYA: Maybe That It Would Be For The Best ROSE: Kanaya... KANAYA: I Can Now See That This Is Completely Ridiculous

For some reason, this doesn’t settle my stomach much?  It’s clear Andrew wove this in here so that if you read Meat first, you’d be able to acknowledge readily how this diverged in a way the characters kind of recognize, and... I’m not sure what I’m even saying.  It’s like there’s hope that this is TRYING to take the bad taste out of my mouth, but I don’t believe it overly much.

ROSE: What a relief, considering that we are both going to be young and magically fit literally forever.

Wait, so they DID find a way to extend their non-ascended friends’ lifespans to practical immortality?  Jane’s Life powers?  Something else?

==>

yay jade.  more extended dave metaphors.  calm down stomach.

JADE: i never thought id be thinking of you as my weird nerd friend by the time we were in our twenties

Heheheh.

DAVE: yeah well i never thought youd be like the premiere woo girl on the planet

Had to look up what a “woo girl” was.

Yes Jade go flirt them to death

What she’s planning isn’t a seduction. It’s a public service.

Pff

(And yeah, she’s being pushy but at least she doesn’t go DIRK FAR about it.)

DAVE: its incredible hes driven at least ten people off the site by creating thinly veiled parody accounts of their usernames

Oh my gosh, Karkat’s good enough to ANDREW HUSSIE them?!???  :D

That’s incredible.

Karkat knows damned well what a husband is. He’s been force-fed enough bad movies from Dave to pick up any human euphemism you could name. He still plays dumb sometimes, for comedic effect, to irritate his friends, or simply to avoid a topic of conversation altogether.

Yeah, it was always pretty clear that about HALF of the trolls pretended not to understand something human that they knew about just for comedic effect and they knew it.  :)

It would be pretty easy to mistake his reaction for arousal, so it’s understandable that Jade is extremely surprised when Karkat snaps his jaw shut and chomps down on her hand.

PFFFFHahahahah :D

And yep, Jane cancelled her run at Dirk’s direction.

DAVE: lets all just thank whichever christ was responsible for making whatever decision resulted in her deciding not to do that

*nod nod*

JADE: well i hope she gets a better hobby JADE: there are a lot of less ominous things she could do with her time KARKAT: WHAT, LIKE FUCKING HER WAY THROUGH HALF THE POPULATION OF EARTH C?

Jade pinches his ear and twists hard, smiling pleasantly.

JADE: get fucked karkat

Yeah, this is about the level of violence/threat I’d expect from Jade when anyone slut-shames her for perfectly acceptable behavior.

==>

There is almost no crime on Earth C, and so almost no one locks their door.

Huh.  I guess post-scarcity might do that.

Alright, we get to see Jane being less of a fuckass.

Dirk was the one person on Earth C who took the state of the locksmith industry with the seriousness it deserved.

Pffff

JAKE: Thats my theory at least. Maybe its tommyrot but i have faith that dirk will be back. After all where is he going to go?

Good question that wasn’t answered in Meat, so of course Jake says it here obliviously.

JAKE: I must admit i am rather half rats at the moment. JANE: You’re what? JAKE: Haha sorry that was a pretty obtuse way of putting it wasnt it. JAKE: What i mean to say is that ive been powdering my hair quite a bit today.

Andrew is SO good at making Jake sound completely incomprehensible.

...Ouch, Jane, don’t drink so hard! D:

The “morbs”??

JAKE: Dirk has that manner about him does he not? JAKE: A way about him that makes you feel like whatever you do as long as it does not involve him it doesnt count for dick.

Yeah, fuck Dirk.

Hm... is the absence of relevance affecting them, or some other manipulation? It’s not just the LACK of Dirk’s manipulation.

JAKE: Except of course for that time when you were under mind control and had me trussed up in your lair as you pontificated villainously about using me as a breeding stud to create a blood lineage for your incumbent corporate space empire.

A fate Dirk seems to agree with, judging by Meat.  Let’s sidestep that fucking entirely, thank you.

...yeah, I didn’t expect Jake’s response to be any less oblivious than exactly that.

==>

So why DID Callie bring Gamzee back, anyway?  Is there some secret use for him in mind?  Was she manipulated into it?  Maybe BY Gamzee?  Hm.

...alright, priestly with followings.  That ain’t good.  Is he aiming for Clown President MK2?

Everything Callie and Roxy have done and said in this Candy section so far seems creepily contrived, possibly by design.

...okay did they have some kind of weird agreement? Like, “okay John is gonna make his choice, and if he chooses to stay i try dating him instead of you, Callie”???  That’s... no that can’t be it.  Roxy’s NEVER acted THIS oblivious before.  What’s she playing at?

GAMZEE: mY fUcKiN *gUy*. :o) JOHN: ... GAMZEE: My DuDe AnD mY nInJa AlIkE. GAMZEE: mY *hOrN* dOoOoG. JOHN: ... GAMZEE: mY hOrN tO tHa MoThErFuCkIn DoG. ;o) JOHN: waiter! help!

I’m imagining Gamzee now as a sweaty and homeless, unkempt Guy Fieri.

Yeah, this doesn’t look like it’ll be fun.

==>

...Swifer Eggmop.  ¬_¬”

There’s a third member of their social group who definitely hasn’t arrived at the conclusion that his power and influence should be meted out responsibly either. Neither of them speak his name, however. For some reason, it feels like a shadow passing over the sun. A brief spike of pain flickers through Rose’s head, a bolt that strikes between her eyes and splinters out. There is color and light behind it. A vision that tears through the material reality in front of her and gives her a brief glimpse into a parallel reality where things are very different.

Yeah, fuck Dirk.

...Pff. Yeah, Rose WOULD mimic the record-scratch gesture.

Don’t invoke “never seeing Vriska again” like that, you’re really tempting fate.

Heh, Rose is finding some Light in the darkness, wanting to do something that’s meaningful on an expressive level with this Vriskgrub business.

Hm... why is my stomach a little less uneasy?

I sure hope it stays that way.

==>

KARKAT: OH MY GOD, ARE THE MECHANICAL GLUTES ON THAT BILLBOARD ACTUALLY PADDED WITH PLUSH TO MAKE THEM MORE LIFELIKE?

Heck Yes

...Yes, touch the butt, Karkat.

Jade, pouting a bit, glides in between them and uses her Space powers to teleport Dave’s phone out from the center of his traumatized palm and into the pocket of her sweater.

Hm!  So she still has teleportation abilities over a limited range even without her Green Sun boost, that’s nice.  :D

After all, where would these two pitiful beta boys be without her?

Oh my fucking god stop being Dirk, Jade.  And never use that narrative language again, even in your head.  Heck, even if Dirk’s the one WRITING this still, don’t even think CLOSE enough to think those words.

...yeah this sounds like an Active player class taking things slightly too far.

Thank you, Karkat, for drawing the consent-line in the sand.  Looks like Jade’s backing off a little.

--hold on, wait, Dave kissed him? He did, so why is-- let me read back up--

Dave doesn’t answer. She answers for him by leaning down and planting a dry, affectionate kiss on Karkat’s cheek.

Okay I misread this line earlier.  Jade kissed Karkat when neither of them were looking and is BLAMING Dave.  Hmm.

Alright, Dave ollies outie.  Karkat tumbles down some hillstairs.

Jade could probably catch him. Actually, she could easily do it, but it doesn’t seem like the kind of favor you should do in a fledgling kismesissitude.

Thaaaat’s a little presumptuous??

JADE: well i guess im eating grub spaghetti alone JADE: *again*!!!

:C

I’d be sadder if you didn’t bring it down hard upon yourself but

:C

==>

Yeah, John, better clear up this Callie business because it’s muddy as heck why Roxy would just drop everything to try things out with you.

Ah, we’re bringing up the gender identity thing on this side too, hm?

More serious talk, this is good, reading reading...

The glasses clink together clumsily, and water gets all over the complimentary breadsticks.

Oh no.  This had better not be Olive Garden.

ROXY: no one else has ever made me feel like this

--not Calliope???

What the heck is even going on.

Dave’s coming for some bro help it looks like.

==>

It’s hilarious how much Dave is freaking out about this, and how completely in-character it is.

JOHN: holy fucking shit. JOHN: there’s a gay snooze button? DAVE: yeah man theres a gay snooze button JOHN: wow.

I love these two’s conversations

......wait, Dave’s been holding off on kissing Karkat because of what he thinks JADE might think???? D:

JOHN: i almost managed to forget that she was trying to fuck you and karkat.

Pfffffffff  :D

Yep.  I love it being put so bluntly.

Reading on... yeah, for some reason I also always figured that the end result of a nice three-way relationship between those three people would be Jade and Dave essentially both just glomming onto Karkat more than each other?  Hm.

JOHN: i mean... it doesn’t sound... JOHN: *canon*?

...I hope you’re just talking about his coin flip explanation and not DaveKatJade.  >:(

John wonders when talking to Dirk has fixed anything for anyone.

Nod nod.

She grins up at John with shimmering, adoring eyes. They’re reflecting every star in the sky, all for him.

Seriously, what the hell.  Is Roxy hypnotized?  Putting on an act?  A voidy act??

I’m not doubting that Roxy COULD feel that way about John, I’m doubting the suddenness and the way Calliope is being deliberately ignored in the situation, which is so goddamn obvious that JOHN is uncomfortable about it.  There’s something seriously strange going on.

It itches at the back of his head, the idea that he might have just fucked up Dave’s entire life.

D:

Alright next post after a bit of breakfast.

#Homestuck #Homestuck Epilogue #Upd8 #Homestuck Liveblog #bladekindeyewear #BlastYoBoots

[pikapeppa]

Online Dating: A Tale in Six Parts

A couple years ago, I wrote a personal essay for a book project for a friend of a friend. The project leader ultimately rejected my piece because it wasn’t academic enough, to which my response was as follows:

I then promptly forgot about it. But now I’m deciding to publish it here, because why not. So here you go: an autobiographical tale of Pikapeppa’s experiences with online dating. (Please note: this is MY personal experience with online dating as a cis straight woman, and is not meant to be representative of anyone else’s experience but mine, since I can’t knowledgeably comment on that.)

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

Online Dating: A Tale in Six Parts

Online dating has been widely vilified, especially since so many cis-heterosexual women have such gross experiences with it: unsolicited dick pics, misogynistic insults when you don’t respond immediately, seemingly nice guys who either “ghost” or suddenly become perverts in the blink of a notification.

I’m here to tell a happier story of online dating, and how it restored my faith in my social skills, my confidence in myself - and how I learned a thing or two about relationships along the way.

Part I: Intro

I’m a shy girl.

Let’s be specific. I consider myself an introvert, or an ambivert at a stretch. I have an extremely hard time talking to strangers; I loathe small talk. At parties, my quietness has a direct inverse relationship with the size of the crowd I’m in: the more people there are, the less I say, until I might as well be a piece of furniture in the corner if the party is a big one. I’m most comfortable in small groups of four people max (including myself), and even then, I get uncomfortable if I’m the centre of attention for too long. I generally prefer to listen than to talk. My ideal weekend includes one entire day for recharging at home with just Netflix and my cat for company.

In January 2012, I moved to Montreal for grad school. When I got there, I knew nobody. I’d moved to Montreal wanting a change, as I’d lived in Toronto my whole life. But somehow in my excitement to move, I’d forgotten that a) I had no friends in Montreal and b) I hate talking to strangers and I hate small talk: the two necessary evils of Making Friends. I spent a solid six months by myself, exploring the city in solitude or hanging out in my apartment with my cat, increasingly hating myself for the fact that I had been living in this city for almost a year and still had no friends except for some casual acquaintances whom I’d met at a mingling party for new grad students. I have some embarrassingly angsty journal entries whining about how there must be something wrong with me, because what kind of person can’t make a single friend in six months of living in a new city? I can’t fully express my gratitude that one of my labmates, who was finishing her Master’s degree at the time, took pity on me and invited me out for drinks, eventually becoming my first good friend in Montreal and introducing me to many other amazing women friends.

Eventually I got into my social stride in Montreal. I had friends; I was satisfyingly busy with my graduate work; and I continued to enjoy relaxing with my cat. (I could write a whole chapter devoted to my mental/emotional well-being and my cat, but let’s save that for another time, shall we?) But as my thesis was wrapping up and I started having more free time, I realized that I was ready to add to my social life. I was ready - gasp! - to pursue a romantic relationship.

This was September 2012. By then, I’d been single for about two years, and largely happy without a partner. But aside from being busy with my thesis, there was another significant reason I had not dated anyone in Montreal: I didn’t know how to meet men.

Part II: The foray into online dating

Traditionally, people meet their partners through work, through common interests, or by bumping into them in bars. I wouldn’t be meeting anyone at work because my master’s degree focused on a topic dominated by female academics, so essentially all of my colleagues were women. My interests involved typically homebody activities like movies, reading, and cooking. And my carefully cultivated Resting Bitch Face usually deterred men in bars from approaching me (as well as my pixie haircut, which I purposely got in order to weed out the kind of shallow male who “only likes girls with long hair”.) The graduate community at McGill often had mingling or speed dating events; however, see above regarding my quietness in crowds and hatred of small talk. Long story short, the traditional ways of meeting men were out.

This is where online dating came into the mix. For me, it was a logical and practical choice. I’ve never been interested in casual flings, so I figured that online dating, especially from a paid website, would have a larger number of men who were looking for something more serious. Importantly, online profiles would also provide information about interests and sense of humour, which - praise the Flying Spaghetti Monster! - would mean that small talk could be avoided, since we could talk about common interests. And there was a final reason that online dating appealed to me: I wanted to meet someone whose occupation was NOT at all similar to mine.

Now, this might be a kind of unusual criteria to express for one’s mate. After all, there is a reason that many people meet their partners at work or engaging in common interests: these things provide a common ground for conversation and for connecting. But as much as I enjoyed research and had aspirations to eventually work in healthcare, I didn’t want to date someone who did those things. After all, I had moved to Montreal looking for something new, dammit! I wanted to broaden my horizons. I wanted a partner who could be my Aladdin and show me a Whole New World.

And thus my online dating adventure began.

Part III: The adventure begins

Everyone has different experiences with online dating. I will say this: I found it really fun and interesting. Importantly, it helped me realize that my social skills, in fact, were not total crap. Within two weeks, I’d gone on dates with a handful of nice, normal-seeming men from a variety of professions. Each time, I went home pleased that I’d had a pleasant, functional conversation with a stranger, without the situation devolving into awkward silence due to my inability to talk like a normal human.

The dating experience was also an important confidence booster. When you’ve been single for two years without any hint of interest from the opposite sex, it’s easy to start thinking you’re deficient in some way. With a handful of successful dates under my belt, I was finally starting to believe that my singledom really was circumstance and not social ineptitude. It also reminded me of something else I’d forgotten during the moping self-pity of my first six months in Montreal: given the right circumstances, I actually enjoy flirting. Dates were actually kind of the perfect social situation for me: one-on-one conversation with a person who you already have things in common with, and with whom you can practice your witty repartee? After two weeks, I felt renewed, confident, and like I had choices - a lot of choices.

Part IV: Disaster strikes (in the most inconsequential first-world-problems kind of way)

Another important role that online dating had in my life was that it led to my first experience of being hurt in a relationship. Here is how it happened: I met a guy with whom I had “chemistry”. Ah, yes, chemistry: that vague, indefinable concept that, in my case, really just meant I had met a guy I was really attracted to. We went on two really fun dates, and then spent a weekend together - and I, being naive, thought I had found my next boyfriend. But a few dates later, he suddenly (and apologetically and politely) said he didn’t think we should see each other anymore.

I was frankly crushed. I’d been incredibly lucky in that by the age of twenty-something, I’d never been dumped or rejected romantically… so this experience of rejection hit me hard. I cried. I drank three beers (a lot for me!) and watched The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo with much maudlin relish. I blasted happy music to drown out my angsty thoughts, and I pow-wowed with my best friends to analyze and re-analyze everything he had said and done. And I was crushed anew when I went on the dating site again to see that he was still active. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to date; it was that he didn’t want to date me. And that really hurt.

Part IV: Wisdom

Ultimately, I’m thankful I was rejected, because I learned a lot of important lessons:

Don’t be tricked by “chemistry”! Rom-coms tell us that chemistry is the most important thing. It’s not. At all. “Chemistry” just means “immediate sexual attraction”. This is not a wise thing on which to base an entire relationship.

Rom-coms also teach us that a guy who doesn’t want a relationship will eventually come around if you are charming enough. This is not true.

Just because someone treats you nicely, doesn’t mean they want the same thing in a relationship as you. Listening to what your date is telling you - i.e. “I don’t know if I want a serious relationship” (yep, the guy who dumped me literally said this on our second date) - is very important.

Many newly single men just don’t know how to be alone, so they start online dating even if they aren’t ready for a new relationship… and they may not realize they don’t want a new relationship until after they’ve started one. The lesson here: be up-front about your relationship expectations/goals and candidly ask your dates about theirs.

Most importantly of all, I learned firsthand what it feels like for someone you want to not want you back. My taste of rejection was the briefest, most inconsequential taste - a week-long fling, compared to committed relationships or divorces. But it was enough to foster a stronger empathy for the pain of rejection and heartbreak, and I feel that this alone was absolutely worth it.

This list of lessons may sound skeptical or discouraging. But I actually found my new knowledge to be incredibly comforting. I now had a set of rules that I could use to better play the dating game - and this time, I was sure I would succeed. Armed with my newfound dating wisdom, I ventured into the world of online dating again, with a different site (a fresh start!) and a cautiously optimistic outlook.

Part V: The Artist

My second attempt at online dating, like the first, was fun. As before, I dated many nice, polite men and had pleasant, interesting conversations. And then I met The Artist.

My first date with The Artist, as I called him in those early days, was as pleasant as any first date I’d gone on. But he had this huge, uninhibited smile, and his laugh was larger-than-life and more enthusiastic than any laugh I’d heard in my life. On our second date, I told him openly that I was dating many people, but that he was my favourite so far. He smiled and nodded agreeably. On our third date, he kissed me… and without either of us saying so, we both knew our online dating careers were at an end. More than six years later, The Artist and I are engaged and living happily with our Playstation, our cat, and some gently wilting plants.

Yes, I just summarized my relationship in a single paragraph. But my goal here isn’t to wax poetic about my fiancé. It’s to point out that without online dating, I would never met him. He works in a completely different profession from mine, and at the time that we met, he lived and worked in different neighbourhoods from me. Our social circles would never have overlapped. But online dating brought us together in more subtle ways as well. My positive experiences in early dates gave me the confidence to continue dating after I got rejected. My experience of rejection led me to try a different dating website - the site that he was on. And the lessons I learned from being rejected led me to a wiser, more open approach to dating and relationships in general - an approach that The Artist appreciated. Given this analysis, I would argue that online dating doesn’t deserve the credit for my relationship, but it does deserve the credit for pushing me out of my comfort zone and giving me experiences that helped me develop into the emotionally mature, pragmatic, and confident woman who eventually captivated a similarly mature and pragmatic man.

Part VI: Conclusions and caveats

My biggest caveat is that I used online websites with paid memberships. As I mentioned earlier, I figured that people who are paying are more likely to be looking for a serious relationship, since paying requires commitment, whereas unpaid sites would have more people who were dabbling or “just curious”. I never used Tinder or Bumble, where online dating is like a game. A friend also recently suggested that I may have had such an easy time with online dating because, in her words (NOT MINE), I am “a babe”. But if you take anything away from this essay, let it be this: online dating is not all bad or all good. Like old-fashioned dating, it’s a complex phenomenon that takes on the biases and colours that you bring into it. And like old-fashioned dating, it can provide new experiences that will let you learn things about yourself - and about love, and life in general - that you didn’t know.

Don’t let online dating define your love life. Let it be a tool to learn about yourself, and maybe, like me, you’ll be pleasantly surprised.

#pikapeppa writes #fanfic writer's life #except not actually fanfic #autobiography #personal #original writing #writing #personal essay #pikapeppa reflects

[belladonnaprice]

MASSIVE ENDGAME SPOILERS

THIS IS LITERALLY A PLAY BY PLAY RECOUNTING OF THE MOVIE. IF YOU DO NOT WANT TO BE COMPLETELY SPOILED, DO NOT CLICK READ MORE.

This was written up for those who are deeply concerned about going in to this movie cold and want no surprises.

If you want one specific spoiler concerning a particular character or situation, I’d be happy to DM with you.

Also, I tried to give the bare facts of happenings and leave the funnier bits a surprise. There are honestly several great quips and lines that I don’t want to spoil. I get more vague the later in the movie I get because even spoiled, I want you to be able to experience the sheer raw emotion of the big showdown and what comes after. I did take copious notes and I saw it twice this opening night though, so if you want more detail, again, hit me up.

I get more emotional and less coherent as the night wears on as well, but *shrug* It’s 4 AM by the time I finish typing this up and I have to be up at 7 lol, fuck. Good Morning Zombie Coffee with 6 shots of espresso for ME.

(Some of the song placements I’m not entirely sure of. I ended up tuning them out, so I’m going back later to look up titles and all the articles I’m finding are spoiler free track listings. So...yeah, I’m half guessing and half remembering. Except the first one, bc the lyrics are so on the nose and PAINFUL)

Opens to Clint teaching his daughter archery while his sons play catch in the background and Laura is fixing lunch. There is some banter concerning the meal and while Clint is talking with Laura, Lila gets dusted. When he turns back and tries to look for her, Cooper, Nathaniel, and Laura all disappear.

Cut to MARVEL title card with Dear Mr. Fantasy by Traffic playing over it.

(Song continues to play for this scene) Next scene is Tony teaching Nebula how to play origami football finger goal game. He lets her win in true dad fashion (because he recognizes that he has the advantage of familiarity and also that her wounded nature means her father figure never saw her as good enough). He tells her she won and asks her if she had fun. She replies she did and would like to try again.

Cut to Tony’s recording his speech to Pepper from the trailer; slightly different but the gist is the same. A somewhat darker tone to his movie speech. A slight montage plays while he’s talking about the events being shown (including Nebula patching him up and later somberly pushing the last rations back towards him knowing his fully fleshy Terran form needs more sustenance and she’s used to going without). He tells Pepper she would like her, considering she’s terribly practical and only slightly sadistic. He finishes the recording and lies down to sleep on the floor (holy foreshadowing, Batman). Nebula finds him some time later and props him up into the copilot seat. From there the dull greenish light of the stars shifts to a brighter gold and Tony blearily opens his eyes to see Carol.

Cut to Steve shaving and his mirror starts rattling. It’s Carol bring the ship in to land in true Superman with plane fashion. Steve, Rhodey, Natasha, and Bruce go out in to the field to witness this and the blank spot from the trailer is filled by Pepper, there to see Tony come home. Tony and Steve tell each other they failed and lost people and that they couldn’t stop Thanos.

Cut to interior with Tony in wheelchair with IV, the team is discussing that it’s been 23 days since the Snap. Steve tells Tony they’ve been using radars and telescopes hoping for a hint of where Thanos has gone and then proceeds to start grilling Tony for any hint that Thanos may have given about his post-Snap plans. Steve and Tony have a snippy, snarly fight with Tony saying he was right about the suit of armor around the world and everyone paid the price. Tony is still weak and collapses.

Cut to Tony bedridden and sedated to help him rest and heal. Trailer scene of Avengers and Carol discussing going after Thanos. Carol says she’ll go ask her space peeps, but Nebula pipes up and tells them there’s no need.

Cut to Nebula telling them about her unmaking and how, even when he was ‘improving’ her with mechanics, she still wanted to please him and that she asked what would happen after. She said Thanos always spoke of The Garden. And from there Rocket notices one particular planet had a similar power surge as the Snap. They’ve found Thanos.

Let’s go get this son of a bitch.

Avengers Endgame Title Card

They all board Rocket’s ship (with Supersonic Rocket Ship by The Kinks playing) and they space jump. Carol advance scouts and reports back that Thanos is alone. Cut to a grievously injured farmer Thanos. He’s making his supper as they attack. Carol, Rhodey and Hulkbuster pin him down and Cap grills him about the stones. Thanos says he used the stones to atomize the stones and that they are no longer reachable. There’s some byplay between Nebula and Thanos and then Thor lops off his head. Nebula’s face catches blood spatter and she kneels down to close his eyes (and honestly FUCK that. He abused the hell out of her and she doesn’t get to shank his ass, w t f).

5 YEAR LATER

Cut to Steve’s support group meeting with controversial Russo role. TBH, I wish it had been a main character, but the fact that they show Steve supporting and encouraging a gay man is still important. The scene is slightly cringy in that the emotions portrayed fall just a touch flat (could be that Russo is not that great an actor lol) and Steve’s speech rings hollow as hell (which to be fair, may have been the point. It’s words the support group needs to hear, but not necessarily something Steve feels for himself).

Cut to a storage locker facility and unit labeled LANG and a rat stepping on the Quantum Realm keyboard and bringing Scott back. How he gets out of the locker is honestly hilarious. He then wanders into a post-Snap world and is deeply confused and concerned. Upon seeing all the missing posters he asks a kid who happens by what happened. The kid just looks away and rides off without a word. He somehow makes his way to a memorial of stones listing The Vanished (and, REALLY, we can erect monuments of granite, but we can’t manage trash pickup???) and frantically looks for Cassie’s name. Instead he finds his own and rushes to his wife’s house. He has a very emotional reunion with his (now 5 years older) daughter.

Cut to Natasha making herself a sandwich and coordinating Nebula, Rocket, Okoye, and Rhodey’s efforts to keep the world a stable and peaceful place as well as Carol’s efforts for the universe. Carol says there’s a lot of unrest and that she won’t be checking in next month (also, hell yeah Carol’s haircut). Everyone blinks out of their holographic get together except for Rhodey. He reports in on Clint’s bloodbath of sorrow wherein he’s been offing as many lowlife standard criminals as he can get his hands on. Natasha, crying, tells Rhodey to keep looking for him. (And am I the only one confused by her jankety grown out roots but perfect manicure? No? Just me? Okay). Steve turns up and they have a short, feelings ridden exchange when the front door rings as in the trailer scene where Scott turns up at the compound.

Cut to a terribly jumbled Scott tries to tell them about Quantum Physics. For him only 5 hours passed instead of the 5 years for everyone else. He says maybe they can use the Quantum Realm to time travel and get ahead of Thanos. They decide they need a science man.

Cut to a terribly dear scene of dad!Tony with little daughter Morgan H Stark playing with the Rescue helmet. He picks her up and carries her to the house for lunch when Steve and co roll up. They discuss all the time nonsense and he tells them no. Even if it was possible, he’s not willing to sacrifice his second chance and his wife and daughter. The squad determines if one science man won’t, they’ll go to another.

Cut to Diner scene where Professor Bruce Hulk is eating a truly appalling amount of breakfast foods. This is kinda a throwaway scene where he explains why he’s now one with himself. There’s also some silliness in this scene, but he agrees to help with the science.

Cut to Tony doing dishes that night and then looking at a picture of him and Peter. The guilt and sorrow of this loss spurs him down to his workshop to figure out the time problem. He does, startles himself and teaches Morgan a swearword. It was a terribly sweet scene. After putting her to bed, he goes to talk to Pepper and tells her he did it, but that he can bury the knowledge and they can go on as they have been. She asks him that if he did that, would be truly able to rest? The answer is clearly no. He is Iron Man, the Futurist, the Mechanic. He can’t let go of it now that he knows the solution.

Cut to Hulk testing Quantum nonsense. Messes up and Scott gets a little….little. There’s a lot of lightness to this scene, but once the ill-fated trial is fixed Steve steps outside. (The THIRST for this scene, dear god, from Steve’s whole look to the fast car and the precision driving) Tony speeds up and tells Steve he solved it. And gives Steve back the shield. Tony asks if they’ll have a full team. Steve responds they’re working on it.

Cut to Scott having a picnic lunch, but it gets blown away by Nebula and Rocket coming in to land the ship and then Rhodey hero landing right next to him.

Rocket and Hulk then go on a road trip to New Asgard/Tonsburg (Doom and Gloom by the Rolling Stones) to pick up a dude by the name of Thor…who’s been heartily wallowing. Between Bruce’s pep talk and Rocket’s promise, they get him on board and return to the compound.

Cut to Tokyo where Clint is still on his killing spree. Natasha rolls up just as he’s dispatching the last man. She tells him they have a plan in a very emotional scene.

Cut to Tony and Rocket building the Time Travel Table and the testing. Scott says there’s only enough for one round trip a person and testing. Scott wigs out a little and Clint volunteers to be the guinea pig. He ends up back on the farm and when they pull him back he’s holding a baseball glove. They have the proof of concept, now it’s a matter of determining when and where.

Cut to a story telling and planning semi-montage of infinity stone locations and encounters. They determine that three teams will suffice. (Why Nebula didn’t make clearer the sacrifice necessary for the Soul Stone, I’ll never know. SHE KNEW) They go into the time stream.

New York 2012-Bruce to the Time Stone at the Sanctum, Cap to the Scepter, and Tony and Scott to the Tessaract. (Something goes awry with the Tessaract and one branch will not be fixed. This spurs a side trip for Tony and Steve to 1970, but more on that in a moment.)

Asgard 2014-Rocket and Thor to extract the Reality stone (There is a deeply emotional scene here concerning Frigga)

Space 2014- Nebula and Rhodey for the Power Stone (Come and Get Your Love by Redbone), while Clint and Tasha go for the Soul Stone. (Nebula is still on her past self’s network and Thanos finds out their plans. He replaces Older Nebula with younger Nebula to fuck shit up. Younger Gamora and Older Nebula strike up an alliance. Clint and Natasha get into a sacrifice off and fight each other to be the one to die so the other can get the stone. Natasha is craftier by far and meets her end. Honestly, with the relationship building these two were finally allowed in their scant few minutes together, this scene hurts a lot more than one might expect.)

I’ll leave these sequences at that. This set of events is full of callbacks, references, quite frankly hilarious dialogue, and some really interesting character interactions (although why Rhodey and Clint are such bros now, idek?? They’ve hardly interacted *shrug*)

So. You’ve traveled back in time to the 1970s. That’s rough buddy.

Steve and Tony travel to Camp Lehigh to retrieve both an older (younger?) Tessaract as well as more Pym Particles that will let them get home from their side trip. This is where Stan Lee’s cameo is (Hey Lawdy Mama by Steppenwolf). There are so, SO many emotions in this scene. Honestly, the whole time travel sequence begins the tears that continues on straight through to the very last 30 seconds of the movie. BRING ALL THE TISSUES.

THERE ARE SO MANY FEELS HERE. (CATHARSIS, CLOSURE, LONGING, BITTERSWEET)

Missions accomplished, our heroes return home at the exact same moment (bc time travel I guess), but quickly realize one of their number is missing.

Cut to a dock scene where they’re mourning Natasha (this is where the sad!JohnnyBravo!Steve from the trailer is). She bet her life on this, so let’s make it count.

Cut to Tony extracting the stones and creating the Stark Gauntlet complete with nanotech. It’s determined that given their gamma nature, that it needs to be Bruce Hulk that snaps everyone back. To prevent a paradox, it won’t reverse time, it will simply return the Snaptured to right then and there, changing none of the last five years. The stones take their toll on Bruce, but he is successful. This is conveyed by Scott noticing more birds in the garden than normal, as well as Clint getting a phone call from Laura.

This is when DoppleNebula activates the time table and brings Thanos in his big ass ship forward in time which he uses to obliterate the Avengers compound. Our heroes are all in peril in various parts of the wreckage. The big three move to confront the (arrogant AF) Thanos and the big showdown begins. That power up, THAT TABLEAU WITH THE SUN AND THE BATTLEFIELD DAMN.

When all seems lost, Steve gets a voice over the coms. It’s SAM : D This cues up a truly startling amount of cameos and badassery (Wakandans, Asgardians, Aliens, Rescue, Valkyrie, Carol finally comes back, SO MANY. It’s also revealed that for the Snaptured, no time has passed, nor were they aware of anything in the nothingness they became). The big showdown gets massively bigger (and includes the BEST FUCKING TEAM UP I’VE EVER SEEN, I SHRIEKED IN THE THEATER LADIES) and Thanos begins to look uncertain. (Fuck it UP Wanda)(Rocket and Groot are cheated of a reunion scene)

It all comes down to Tony’s tech and Tony’s declaration, and ultimately, his sacrifice. Thanos is the last one to taste justice, watching as everything around him crumbles into dust.

Tony Stark, Iron Man,

Dies.

Having laid down on the wire for the universe.

Rhodey, Peter, and Pepper are there to comfort him as he passes.

Then there are scene of Clint returning home to his family, Peter heading off to school (where Ned is, weirdly enough. So I’m guessing they both got Snaptured for him to still be that young. I honestly feel cheated that during the family sequences, we didn’t get Aunt May, like what the fuck honestly.), Scott, Hope and Cassie are watching fireworks, T’Challa, Ramonda, and Shuri are watching a parade and massive celebration from a balcony. Tony’s voice is giving a farewell speech he recorded, just in case he didn’t make it home.

This leads into his funeral scene, with little Morgan cuddled up to her mama. At the ceremony we see all the Avengers and co and heroes and families (and a boy I’m assuming is a grown up Harley Keener) (as well a FUCKING THUNDERBOLT ROSS WHAT THE HONEST FUCK, and a brown haired lady near him who I’m sure is meant to be Betty, but definitely not Liv Tyler.)

Wanda and Clint commiserate loses and she reassures him that their loved ones know it was worth it. That they won and their souls can rest easy.

Thor bids Valkyrie farewell and tells her she’s a leader. That he no longer is beholden to who he should be, but can now embrace who he is. He joins the Guardians (minus younger Gamora who’s in the wind and apparently we don’t care about paradoxes and split time streams when it’s people as opposed to infinity stones, but whatevs.)

Hulk is injured still, so he passes the responsibility of taking the stones home to Steve. Sam and Bucky are there to see him off. Instead of using the Pym particles to return home, he took the long way ‘round. Old Man Steve (not ageless as fanfic would have him) sits on a bench and Sam speaks with him. Steve passes the shield to Sam, who notices Steve’s wedding band. This leads to the MASSIVELY TEAR JERKING SCENE (It’s Been a Long, Long Time performed by Kitty Kallen) WHEN THEY FINALLY GET THAT DANCE.

(Alzheimer’s Peggy must have been SO confused when Old Steve and Young Steve were probably both visiting her. And DID SHARON KNOW HER UNCLE STEVE. YOU DATED HIM AFTER THAT SHARON WHAT THE FUCK. Also, reasonably sure they used Chris’s dad for their Old Steve CGI merge model XD)

(Vision stays dead, older Gamora stays dead, Loki technically stays dead, but also kinda not, Heimdall stays dead)

#avengers endgame #avengers endgame spoilers #endgame spoiler #A:E SPOILERS #spoilers #all the spoilers #so many spoilers

[zip-toonz]

Mary Ann Conspiracy (Mary Ann’s parents and is she more than just a Maid)

Ive had the wonderland comics for over a year now and during that time I have introduced it to a few people either through conversation or fanart. One of which being @universal-multimuse. Together we have gathered supporting evidence on why we think Mary Ann is the princess of Spades. (spoilers for the comic read at your own risk) Now technically I originally heard this idea from another friend of mine when I questioned the whereabouts of Mary Ann’s parents as it seemed strange that a 12 year old girl is living on her own. To which she pointed out that maybe the Queen of Spades was Mary Ann’s mother and that got me thinking. Gummy also mentioned this and since he read the entire comic he brought up some evidence that further drove that point home. This is the collection of points we collectively came up with. Most of this is speculation and potentially a stretch but it does make sense when you think about it deeper.  under read more due to length 

First Point: Cheshire’s Aid 

During the first chapter Mary Ann is given a scepter by Cheshire. This scepter is later shown to belong to the Queen of Spades. Why Specifically the Spades Scepter when there are two other card classes besides heart? Club and Diamond? Both of which have deceased queens who’s scepters wouldn't be hard to obtain. Well these two queens have long since poisoned each other meaning that if Mary Ann truly was of royal bloodline they couldn't have been her parents as shes only 12 Years old (based on Disney Alice’s age) and the poisoning happened before the Queen of Spades was thrown down the treacle well (this point will be brought up later). Now you may wonder what Mary Ann did with the scepter after it was handed to her...(she knocked the queen of hearts out with it in blind rage and kept it till the end of chapter 2) 

Second Point: Visual Similarities  By the end of chapter two you are introduced to the Queen of Spades who Mary Ann does share similarities with design wise 

Green: Parted hair (down the middle) Pink: Curl Against face (normally above the ear White: Neck Ruffle  Lilac: Rounded sleeves  sounds like a stretch huh? Well the Queen of spades is one or two queens to possess black hair (Hearts and spades) The other two have white hair. HOWEVER the Queen of spades is the only queen to have rounded sleeves and the neck ruffle. Of the two queens that have black hair shes the only one who parts her hair in that way. Mary Ann’s design mimics this making it seem more intentional than anything. Third Point: Recognition  In chapter 3 Mary Ann says this

Which is odd since the Queen of Spades has been banished down the treacle well for quite sometime and Mary Ann is young (which the Queen even points out) Unless she knew her she wouldn't have know of her. If Mary Ann is her daughter it would make sense she would have a some vague memory of her since I doubt she was on her own since she was born. If the queen had been down there say maybe 10ish years and Mary Ann last saw her when she was 2 it would make a little sense that should would vaguely remember her. Not clearly of course but some sense of familiarity. And considering there’s no other way she could have know as the existence of the Queen of spades seem to be secretive and hushed by the queen of hearts. 

Forth Point: Chess 

Notice how all the white chess pieces are tied to the queen of hearts? And how the black pieces are tied to spades? Well Mary Ann is a black chess piece. Which is odd since In the previous chapter the queen states “my servants” which includes Mary Ann AND rabbit. Yet rabbit still has a white chess piece wouldn't it make sense for his to also be black? Or for hers to still be white? It may be deeper than that. Mary Ann could truly belong in the spades kingdom instead of the hearts which means she always was a black chess piece which ties her closer to the queen of spades. Fifth Point: Remarks of royalty 

Several times Mary Ann has royalty tied to her. Rabbit asks her about wanting to be a princess (as seemingly most girls do want to be princesses) Yet Mary Ann while having theses dreams and fantasies wants to stay true to herself. But later on she is deemed the Queen of Chaos by The Curious. Perhaps that is what is true to Mary Ann. This ties into the next two points

Sixth point: Feather Scepter 

Feather who was previously a simple feather duster becomes a royal scepter. Which suggest that Mary Ann’s occupation was expected to change. Being a feather duster helped when she was a maid but if she were to become a queen shed have no use of such a thing. Id also like to point out that Feather and Mary Ann have a close friendly bond and while feather could have on multiple occasions left Mary Ann to be on his own he didn't. They in a sense need each other. So it makes sense that he would be changed to be more practical for her occupation to continue being with her.  Seventh Point (final): Throne

Mary Ann in the final chapter is offered the throne. There were other adults in the room at the time who could have claimed the throne but didn't. And it would make sense if Mary Ann was truly of royal blood. Shed have the right to the throne as an heir. Shed be a more humble queen as shes worked her whole life. That and her independence and compassion seemed to draw the looking glass animals too her as they despised the previous rulers because of arrogance and cruelty. Now the throne could be taken by anyone and in fact Mary Ann rejected the throne because she enjoyed her life as it was and this led to Cheshire taking it for a short time. So anyone else technically could have but Mary Ann was given the first choice Thank you for reading if you did. this is all speculation and not confirmed (nor denied) by the writer Tommy Kovac. Just lil observations that seem to hint that this may be the case 

#issacc barks #issacc writes #Alice In Wonderland #mary ann #long post