#ledger functionality

[ryin-silverfish]

A Guide to the Chinese Underworld (and what it isn't)

As many FSYY and fox posts as there were on my blog, I am actually a huge fan of the Chinese Underworld mythos. Mostly because I was once a morbid little kid that loved reading about the excavations of ancient tombs, and found the statues depicting hellish torture in the Haw Par Villa "super cool".

Apart from the aesthetics, the history of its evolution is also fascinating. Most of us, Chinese or not, only know the most popular version of the Underworld——the "Ten Kings" system, yet that isn't always the case. So today, I'll start off with a short summary of that.

In pre-Qin era, there was already this generic idea of a "Realm of the Dead" called the Yellow Spring, Youdu, or Youming, but we know very little about it.

Then, in the Han dynasty, two ideas start to emerge: 1) the Underworld is a bureaucracy, 2) the God of Mt. Tai ruled over the dead.

This early bureaucracy might not function as an agent of punishment; the main focus was on keeping the dead segregated from the living so they wouldn't bring diseases and misfortune to the latter, as well as using those ghosts to enforce collective punishments upon people for their lineage's wrongdoings while they were still alive.

Post-Han, after Buddhism entered China and took root, its idea of karmic punishments and reincarnation and the figure of King Yama was merged with folk and Daoist ideas of the Underworld bureaucracy, and, came Tang dynasty, resulted in the "Ten Kings" system that first appeared in Dunhuang manuscripts.

It was very rudimentary and far from well-established, as seen in Tang legends, with some adopting the Ten Kings system, some sticking to the Lord of Mt. Tai and some favoring King Yama, and overall little agreements on who's in charge of the Underworld.

But the "Ten Kings" system would become the mainstream version from then onwards, used in Ming vernacular novels and made even more popular by folk religion scrolls like the Jade Records (Yuli Baochao).

As such, most points in the following sections will be based on the fully matured "Ten Kings" system of the Underworld, as seen in the Jade Records and JTTW.

What happens when you die?

(This is a fictionalized walkthrough of the posthumous fate of souls under the "Ten Kings" system. I try to stick to the very broad progression outlined in the Jade Records, but many creative liberties are taken on the details.)

Let's say there's a guy named Xiao Ming, and he had just died of a heart attack. Bummers. What now?

Well, the first thing he saw would be the ghost cops.

There isn't really an unanimous agreement on who these ghost cops are: they may be a pair of ghosts in white and black robes, wearing tall hats (Heibai Wuchang), they may have the heads of farm animals (Ox-Head and Horse-Face), or they can just be generic ghost bureaucrats. For convenience's sake, let's say it was the first scenario.

"Who are you guys and where are you taking me?"

"Glad you asked!" The taller ghost cop, being the cheerful one of the pair, replied. It wasn't very reassuring, considering that his tongue was dangling out of his mouth way further than it should. "I'm the White Impermanence, my sour-looking colleague here is the Black Impermanence, and we are taking you to the City God's office."

This City God, a.k.a. Chenghuang, is just like how it sounds: the divine guardian of a city, who also pulls double duty as the head of the local Dead People Customs Office. They are usually virtuous officials deified posthumously, and in JTTW, they fall under the category of "Ghostly immortals", together with the Earth Gods a.k.a. Tudi.

So Xiao Ming went with the two ghost cops——not like he had much of a choice, made his way through the long queue at the City God's office, and was now standing in front of a gruff old magistrate in traditional robes.

"Name?"

"Wang Xiao Ming."

"Age and birth dates?"

"21, April 16 2003…"

After he was done asking questions, the City God flipped through his ledger, then picked up a brush, ticked off Xiao Ming's name, and told him to go get his pass in the next room. More waiting in a queue. Wonderful.

"I never heard anything about needing a pass to get to the Underworld," the girl in front of Xiao Ming asked the ghost cops, who were standing guard nearby. "Is this a new policy or something?"

"Yeah. In the old days, we'd just drag y'all straight to the Ghost Gate." The ghost cop in black said, then muttered to himself, "Fuckin' paperworks and overpopulation, man…"

(This "Dead People Passport" thing was popularized in the middle-to-late Ming dynasty, as shown by the discovery of such documents inside tombs in southern China. )

(It might have evolved from similar passes to the Western Pure Land in lay Buddhism that recorded their acts of merits. Which, in turn, might be traced back to the "Dead People Belongings List" of Han dynasty, to be shown to Underworld bureaucrats so that no one would take away the dead's private property down there or something.)

Anyways, after he received his pass, Xiao Ming departed together with the rest of the bunch, to be led to the Ghost Gate. It was like the world's most depressing tourist group, where instead of tour guides, you got two ghost cops in funny hats, and the only scenery in sight was the desolation of the Yellow Spring Road.

They weren't the only travellers on the road, though. Xiao Ming noticed other groups moving in the far distance, behind the fog and the flickering ghostfire, led by similar figures in black and white.

It made a lot of sense; realistically, there was no way two ghost cops could fetch hundreds of thousands of dead people all by themselves.

(SEA Tang-ki mediums believed there were multiple Tua Di Ya Peks——Hokkien name for the Black and White Impermanences, working for different Underworld Courts.)

At last, the Ghost Gate stood in front of Xiao Ming, guarded by two towering figures. Normally, they'd be Ox-Head and Horse-Face, like what you see at Haw Par Villa's Underworld entrance.

However, older Han dynasty works like Wang Chong's 论衡·订鬼 also mentioned two gods, Shenshu and Yulei, as guardians of the Ghost Gate, who would use reed ropes to capture malicious ghosts and feed them to tigers, making them possibly the earliest incarnation of "Gate Gods".

So here, they were what Xiao Ming sees, standing side by side like proper doormen, silently watching herds of ghosts being funneled through the entrance.

The place was more crowded than a train station during the CNY Spring Rush; the ghost cops had already said their quick goodbye and left to fetch the next group of dead people, leaving the resident officials of the Underworld proper to maintain order and quell any would-be riots.

Now you started seeing the Ox-Head and Horse-Face guys, poking at unruly ghosts with their pitchforks and dragging away the violent ones in chains. Among their ranks were other monstrous beings, blue-faced yakshas and imps, but also regular dead humans who look 100% done with their jobs, like the lady who stamped Xiao Ming's pass when it was finally his turn.

After this point, Xiao Ming had entered the Underworld proper, and his next destination would be the First Court, led by King Qin'guang. Here, his fate should be decided by what is revealed in the King's magical mirror.

If Xiao Ming was a good guy, or someone who had done an equal amount of good and bad things in life, he'd be sent straight to the Tenth Court for reincarnation. However, if the mirror, while replaying his life events, had displayed more evil deeds than good ones, he'd be sent to one of the 2nd-9th Courts for judgment and then punished inside the Eighteen Hells.

Each of the Ten Kings was also assisted by ghostly judges. Many of them were righteous and just officials in life who had been recruited into the Ten Courts posthumously——Cui Jue from JTTW is one such example, while others were living people working part-time for the Underworld, like how Wei Zheng, Taizong's minister, works part-time for the Celestial Bureaucracy in JTTW.

We decide to be nice to Xiao Ming, so, after reliving some embarrassing childhood incidents and cringy teenage phases in front of a bunch of dead bureaucrats, he was found innocent and sent to the Tenth Court.

The queue here was almost as long as the First Court's, stretching on and on alongside of the banks of the Nai River. King of the Turning Wheel made his judgment without even lifting his head when it was Xiao Ming's turn:

"Path of Humans, male, healthy in body and mind, ordinary family. Next!"

Exiting the Tenth Court building, Xiao Ming saw the Terrace of Forgetfulness, standing tall before six bridges, made of gold, silver, jade, stone, wood, and…some unidentified material. Before he could get a good look at them and the little dots moving across those bridges, he was hurried into the Terrace by the ghostly officials.

Now, both JTTW and the Jade Records mention multiple bridges across the Nai River. In the former, there is 3, and the latter, 6. The bridges made of precious materials are for people who will reincarnate into better lives, as the wealthy, the fortunate, and the divine, while the Naihe Bridge is either the common option or the terribad shitty option.

However, the Naihe Bridge proved to be so iconic, it became THE bridge you walk across to reincarnate in popular legends.

Anyways, back to Xiao Ming. He found himself standing in a giant soup kitchen of sorts, with an old lady at the counter, scooping soup out of her steaming pot and into one cup after another.

This is Mengpo, the amnesia soup granny; according to the Jade Records, she was born in the Western Han era, and a pious cultivator who thought of neither the past nor the future, only knowing that her surname was Meng.

Made into an Underworld god by the Jade Emperor, she cooks a soup of five flavors that will wipe the memory of the dead, making sure they do not remember any of their past lives once they reincarnate.

It tastes awful. Like what you get after pouring corn syrup, coffee, chilli sauce, lemon juice and seawater into the same cup.

Such was Xiao Ming's last thought, as he gulped down the soup, and then he knew no more.

Things you should know about the Chinese Underworld:

1. It's not the Christian Hell.

Rather, the Chinese Underworld functions somewhat like the Purgatory, in that there are a lot of torment, but the torment's not eternal, however long the duration may be. Once you finish your sentence, you get reincarnated as something else, though that "something else" is not a guaranteed good birth.

Other people can also speed up the process via transferring of merits: hiring a priest/monk to chant sutras and perform rituals, for example, or performing good deeds in life in dedication to the dead, or they can pray to a Daoist/Buddhist deity to save their loved ones from a dreadful fate.

Interestingly enough, a thesis paper I read mentions that, whereas Buddhist salvation from the Hells was based on transference of merits——you give monks offerings and pay them to chant sutras, so they can cancel out the sinners' bad karma with good ones, Daoist ideas of salvation tend to involve the priest going down there, sorting it out with the Underworld officials, and taking the dead out of the Hells themselves.

(The paper also stops at the Northern-Southern and Tang dynasties, so the above is likely period-specific.)

2. Nor is it run by evil demons.

Underworld officials are not nice guys and look pretty monstrous and torture the sinful dead, but they are not the embodiment of evil. Rather, the faction as a whole is what I'd call Lawful Neutral, who function on this "An Eye for An Eye" logic, where every harm the sinner caused in life must be returned to them, in order for their karmic debts to be cleansed and move on to their next life.

They can absolutely be corrupt and incompetent and take bribes——Tang dynasty Zhiguai tales and Qing folklore compendiums featured plenty of such cases, but that's a very mundane and human kind of evil, not a cosmic/innate one.

This is just my personal opinion, but if you want to do an "evil" Chinese Underworld? It should be a very bureaucratic evil, whose leaders are bootlickers to the higher-ups, slavedrivers to their rank-and-file workers, and bullies who abuse their power over regular dead people.

Not, y'know, Satan and his infernal legions or conspiring Cthulu cultists.

3. The Ten Kings are not Hades.

Make no mistake, they still have a lot of power over your average dead mortal. But in the grand scheme of things? They are the backwater department of the pantheon, who only show up in JTTW to get pushed around and revive the occasional dead people.

When Taizong made his trip to the Underworld, the Ten Kings greeted him as equals——kings of ghosts to the king of the living. If they see themselves as equal in status to a mortal emperor, then, like any mortal emperors, they are subordinate to the Celestial Host, and the balance of power is not even remotely equal or in their favor.

Also, it isn't said outright, but under the Zhong-Lv classification of immortals JTTW is using, Underworld officials will likely be considered Ghostly immortals, the lowest and weakest of the five types, much like Tudis and Chenghuangs.

Essentially: they are ghosts that are powerful enough to not reincarnate and linger on and on, spirits of pure Yin as opposed to true immortals, who are beings of pure Yang.

It's pretty much the shittiest form of immortality, the result you get when you try to speedrun cultivation (the Zhong-Lv text also made a dig at Buddhist meditation here), and if they don't reincarnate or regain a physical body, there is no chance of progressing any further.

Oh, and fun fact? In the Song dynasty, commoners and literati elites alike believed that virtuous officials in life would get appointed as ghostly officials in death.

However, the latter viewed it as a punishment. Which was strange, considering how they still held the same position and the same amount of authority, just over dead people instead of living ones, so there should be no big losses, right?

Well...it was precisely the "dead people" part that made it a punishment. See, a lot of the power and prestige they had as officials came from the benefits they could bring to their families and kins and native places, as well as the potential wealth and reputation bonuses for themselves.

A job in the Dead People Supreme Court would give them the same workload, but with none of those benefits. Since all the dead people had to reincarnate eventually, they couldn't have a fixed group as their power base, or keep their old familial ties and connections. At most, they could help out an occasional dead relative or two.

Like, working for the Underworld Courts was the kind of deadend (no pun intended) job not even living officials wanted for themselves in the afterlife. That's how hilariously sad and pathetic they are.

4. In JTTW at least, they aren't even the highest authorities of the Underworld.

That would be Bodhisattva Ksitigarbha, who is technically their boss, though he seems to be more of a spiritual leader than someone who is actually involved in running the bureaucracy.

Which makes sense, since he has sworn an oath to not attain Buddhahood until all Hells are empty, and his role is to offer relief and salvation to the suffering souls, not judging and punishing them.

Now, historically...even though Ksitigarbha in early Tang legends was still the savior of the dead, he seemed to be unable to interfere with the judicial process of the Underworld, merely showing up to take people away before they were judged by King Yama.

However, in the mid-Tang apocryphal "Sutra of Bodhisattva Ksitigarbha" (地藏菩萨经), he had evolved into the equal of King Yama, with the power of supervision over his judgements. By the time the Scripture on the Ten Kings came out, in artistic depictions, the Ten Kings had become fully subservient to him.

5. Diyu usually refers to the prison-torture chamber part, not the courthouse, nor is it the entirety of the Underworld.

And for the majority of souls that haven't committed crimes, they'll only see the courthouse part before they are sent to reincarnation. That's why I personally don't like, or use the name Diyu for the Chinese Underworld: I prefer the term Difu ("Earth Mansions"), which encompasses the whole realm better.

Also: even though historical sources like the Scripture on the Ten Kings and Jade Records seem to suggest that the dead were just funneled through this Courthouse-Prison-Reincarnation pipeline with no breaks in between, in practice, that isn't the case.

According to popular folk beliefs, after the dead were done with their trials/sentences, they stayed in the Underworld for a period of time and led regular lives, while functioning as ancestor spirits and receiving offerings.

Which would imply that the Underworld had a civilian district of sorts, populated by regular ghosts, making the whole realm even less of a direct Hell/Purgatory equivalent.

6. It is located in a different realm, but still part of the Six Paths and doesn't exist outside of reality.

In Buddhist cosmology, like the Celestial Realm, the Underworld is part of the Realm of Desires and thus subject to all the woes of samsara.

The pain and misery of the Path of Hell may be the worst and most obvious, but becoming a celestial being isn't the goal of serious Buddhists either: despite all the pleasures and near-infinite lifespan they enjoy, they are not free from samsara and will eventually have to reincarnate.

So if, say, the world is being destroyed at the end of a kalpa, all beings of the Six Paths will perish alongside it, leaving behind a clean slate for the cycle to start anew. The dead won't all end up in the Underworld and face eternal damnation.

7. The Black and White Impermanences would not appear in the Underworld pantheon formally until the Qing dynasty.

The concept that when you die, you get fetched to the Underworld by petty ghost bureaucrats is already well-established in Tang legends, but these were just generic ghost bureaucrats in all sorts of colorful official robes, with yellow being the most common color.

The idea of there being two specific psychopomps in black and white would only become popular in the Qing dynasty. Mengpo is kinda similar: although she existed before the Ming-Qing era as a goddess of wind, venerated by boatmen, her "amnesia soup granny" incarnation came from the Jade Records.

[little-one-eyed-monsters]

Film fact (from a media nerd):

The breathing technique used by Akin to help Jin cry in Ep. 1 of Top Form is a real-life acting method. It's formally known as the Outside-In/ ALBA Method.

It's a branch of method acting where the actors initially perform the body's actions to certain emotions in order to trigger said emotion. To illustrate: if an actor wants to cry, they must trigger the body's distress functions through movement. They take quick, panicky breaths to mimic a body in distress, which then increases their heart rate. This then triggers the body's natural reaction to calm the heart: deep slow breaths, then-- crying (crying forces the lungs to take in more air, and the high oxygen intake helps the heart re-establish rhythm. It's all very nerdy and scientific but it works 😅)

(Notice how at the start of the teaching at the bridge scene, Akin visibly shortens his breaths and widens his eyes while looking at Jin. He then gradually slows down his breathing, then touches Jin's chest to physically order the other to follow his movements, which Jin does).

It's actually harder to do than the common Inside-Out Method, which requires actors to tap into the emotion of the character first before expressing the action (e.g. crying would require you to think lonely thoughts, or place yourself in the shoes of your character in order to push the tears needed for the scene). Newbies are recommended to do the Inside-Out Method first because they don't have the experience to be instinctual with their body's reactions (the Alba Method requires that you MEMORIZE what a body does when feeling certain emotions. Senior actors, borne from years of doing complex scenes, have these actions mastered). Once a new actor gains enough experience, they'll be able to switch to the Outside-In/Alba (and get to do all sorts of roles).

But the Inside-Out is not reserved for newbies. Some prolific actors stay within the Inside-Out Method because that's what works for them. Regardless, both the Outside-In/Alba and Inside-Out are branches of Method Acting-- a very difficult (and controversial) technique which requires actors to physically and/or emotionally embody their character in its extremes in order to make their performance believable. Some method actors are stellar, some lackluster. There are about a dozen other acting techniques aside from Method Acting that actors can choose from.

Famous Hollywood Inside-Out Method Actors (based on interviews): Heath Ledger, Al Pacino, Natalie Portman

Famous Hollywood Alba Method actors (based on interviews): Benedict Cumberbatch, Joaquin Phoenix, Adrien Brody

In Thailand:

Famous BL actors who practice the Inside- Out Method (based on how they describe their performance in interviews):

Zee Pruk

Off Jumpol and Gun Atthaphan

And based on current interviews, our very own beloved Boom Raweewit is an Inside-Out actor. He studied the source materials, discussed the character with cast and crew, and even wrote the character's motivations for each scene to help fully immerse in the role. See the Black Honey Cut interview for reference.

Next, famous BL actors who practice the Alba Method (based on how they describe their performance in interviews):

Fluke Natouch

Ohm Pawat and Nanon Korapat

(I used this gif to make us all cry)

And based on current interviews, our resident heartthrob Smart Chisanupong describes his technique as Alba-adjacent. He describes his portrayal of Jin based on action-reaction: what body movements would show anger, happiness, or arousal to the audience, and what actions would trigger the same reactions from his acting partner. See the Black Honey Cut interview for reference.

Adversely, famous BL actors who REJECT Method Acting based on their interviews (and do Presentational Acting instead, where they completely separate the character from themselves and their real-life personas)

Khaotung Thanawat

Up Poompat and Poom Phuripan

Bonus (although I know this is quite long already):

The Alba Method may be indirectly responsible for causing Jin's infatuation with Akin 😅

The Alba method is NOTORIOUS for triggering "sham love" reactions from its practitioners and fans. Sham love in media refers to two things: 1) the audience believes that actors may have fallen in love for real because their actions come off as very natural onscreen, or 2) the actors THEMSELVES think they've fallen in love with their costars because their body's reactions mimic that of attraction or arousal.

Our brains, though infinitely complex, may sometimes be quite foolish. Our body's actions help our brain logically conclude what's occurring around it, so it in turn can order the body to react and fix any issues.

In Jin's case, an elevated heartbeat, dilated pupils, and a skin-on-skin contact-- these are all bodily reactions to arousal. Crying, funnily enough, is also a bodily reaction to arousal. 😅 Sexual activity increases the heartbeat, and the body's reaction to calming our heart is to increase oxygen intake and release accumulated body heat-- all achieved through crying. It doesn't help that Jin instantly found Akin captivating when they first met.

So in teaching Jin the Alba Method, Akin may have inadvertently triggered Jin's arousal 😅

(I was going to analyse Akin's swordfight with Johnny and how that triggered Johnny's attraction for Akin, but it awakened my anger for Johnny even more, so, never mind).

Edit: I made the Johnny retrospective. Click here if you're interested.

This is so long but thank you for coming to my Ted Talk 😅🤣 I'm a Broadcast Media grad and I do some work behind the scenes, so I found it fascinating how the show expertly inserted this method for a touch of realism. And now you also know why I love Top Form so much 😅 Stay kooky folks!

[venussaidso]

Actually the difference between Rahuvian men and Ketuvian men in first impressions is interesting because, imo ofc, Rahu makes them come off a lot more harsh or rougher by speech or mannerisms, which can be Rahu's illusory effect. The whole, “tough on the outside, sensitive on the inside” trope.

Swati Moon native Ryan Reynolds is an example of this, often portrayed as wittingly combative to mask his fragility and delicate ego.

In the movie 10 Things I Hate About You, Ardra Moon Heath Ledger plays a ruggish teenager who is known to be scary or unapproachable, who proves to be actually vulnerable or "sweet" (however you like to describe him).

Mark Wahlberg, who has Swati Moon, is often typecasted as characters that are verbally combative or outwardly harsh, while internally longing for authentic expression of his feelings (such as in the movie Daddy's Home which he stars in).

While Ketu makes natives, from what I've noticed, come off as shy or standoffish, and they're often perceived as gentle or “deep” (sometimes). There's an illusory effect to Ketu men that I've picked up on, and I say illusory because this is entirely based on the reactions of people, where they're regarded as fragile and weak in some way. People, in the comments, will say how “humble”, “frail”, “delicate” and “beautiful” some of these natives are. And notice how these Ketu public figures are often ranked high in their work, considered to be serious, gritty or passionate artists despite their withdrawn, passive or seemingly sensitive nature.

Celebrity examples: Michael Jackson, who had Magha Sun. Cillian Murphy, who has potential Ashwini Moon. Daniel Day Lewis, who also has Ashwini Moon. And J Robert Oppenheimer, who had Ashwini Sun. Even Mula Sun Timothee Chalamet had commentators perceiving him this way.

In their passions, they can get scarily fixated and fiery, which often contrasts with their passive nature outside as they are always, more actively, within their own world — “self-absorbed” — where these allegations of being deep and introspective come from. I already talked about this inward nature in this post, in a more negative light, through the Narcissus archetype, concerning Ketuvians in general.

This makes a lot of sense as Ketu makes one inward, internal — this indicating how the fire element in these nakshatras function. The 12th house is where Ketu feels more comfortable, which makes sense with themes of introversion, dissociation and otherworldliness.

I think Tom Hiddleston is also known for being “deep”, introspective, and gentle, with a burning passion inside, only for him to be a possible Ashwini Moon native. Young Daniel Day Lewis (especially in the provided second clip) has always reminded me of Tom Hiddleston, especially in his speech patterns. They both come off quite book-ish and sensitive (like the Belle–archetype, in Mula nakshatra). And Daniel, also much like Michael Jackson, is very soft-spoken. Very interesting.

[tinysheepcrusade]

Only Her

Sevika X Female Reader

Summary: You are the newest addition to the brothel in Zaun. After a few weeks of boring sex work you're the next victim of Silcos right-hand woman, Sevika. Will you make it through the night unphased or fumble under her cold touch?

Content Warning: Smut, Dom Sevika, Teasing, Squirting, Brothel (SexWork), Strap On, Rough Sex, Biting, Almost Hate Sex.

Notes: This is a repost, apparently the last one had an error where it restarted halfway in the fic, hopefully this one doesn't have the same error. Google docs copy function does this sometimes.

New Note: Should I write a part two for this? I have some ideas bouncing around but I'm not sure if I should use em???

If you prefer to read on aO3 here you are - link

The eye roll you give your manager could kill a grown man. You don't mean to, it was just a reflex as she went on and on about a special customer coming tonight. 

“Roll those pretty eyes if you want to but they're back from their trip and that's when they storm their way in here riled up.”

“That's great and all Miss Babette but you don't even know who he's going to go for, if he’s a regular shouldn't he have one specific girl he comes for each time? Or is he a girl hopper?” Babette, as gentle as ever, helps you clasp your necklace. You'd only been a brothel worker for two weeks now and you were over the nervous jitters. It was almost the same routine every night with these pathetic men. “It stopped being scary once you realized they only last about two minutes on a good day, and more than half probably don't even know what or where the clit is.” Your tone is bored yet and still Babette is giving you a look you can't place. It's almost worry, you think. 

The older woman grabs your chin. “You've already made your first mistake-” she shakes her head. “-this customer isn't a he, they're a she.”

You shrug, still unphased, “Okay so if they pick me-”

“When.” She corrects.”And when she comes in call me over. Don't do anything to get yourself into trouble with someone like that in the time it takes me to walk over to you.”

“You can't just assume she's going to pick me!” You giggle. Waving over your coworker you ask them about this mystery customer. “Matilda, Miss Babette here has a mystery customer coming in, apparently she's run through each and every girl here. If that's true then just tell me is she bad enough to warrant this speech I'm being given?”

Matilda looks at Babette, her eyes going wide. “Oh…. Sevika's back?” The words make every girl in the dressing room freeze for a split second before they all begin to rush out the door to their sections. All before Babette had even confirmed it. 

Your manager nods at the only woman brave enough not to scatter. “I don't even have any advice to give you darling besides good luck.” Matilda gives you a pat on the shoulder. “I would say maybe she won't notice there's a new girl but none of us have escaped at least one night with Sevika.”

“Oh please guys this has gotta be some sort of prank.” You stand up, becoming a bit perturbed by them acting as if this customer was some sort of evil cryptid. “I'm heading to the door to greet, see you later.” 

You scamper off in your heels and don't hear the mumble your friend says to the manager. “She's toast.”

~~

The night is painfully slow. You spend most of your time directing the customers to the corresponding room of the woman of their choice. A few attempt to request you but per your managers instructions you have to wait until this Sevika person comes through and picks her poison. It almost makes you mad thinking of the money being passed up, though not having to worry about getting a strangers dick wet was always nice. 

You stare at the ledger that's keeping track of customers. You're halfway there to fully zoning out, tempted to request cleaning or working the stripper pole instead of this. The only thing that shocks you out is the door slamming closed. You fly into autopilot, smiling and batting your eyelashes at the woman who just walked in. “Good evening love bug, may I get a name, and then I'll help you find whatever pleasure you are searching for~”

She flashes you a grin. Taking her cigar out and blowing the smoke off to the side. “Names Sevika.

You immediately have to bite back any and all remarks that pop up. Writing her name in the book you do as you were told and call over Babette who rushes over to take the reigns. Their conversation seems to be nothing more than pleasantries so you turn to walk off.

“And where does gorgeous think she's going?” 

You almost don't stop at Sevika's words, assuming she was speaking about someone else. If it hadn't been for Babette grabbing your hand you'd have gone off to clean. 

“Apologies Sevika, Y/N is still new.” 

You raise an eyebrow at your boss in confusion. “I thought you'd want me to go check the vip room to make sure it's stocked before Miss Sevika and her pick entered, that is normally the protocol.” 

“That is normally the protocol when you aren't the woman being picked, we already checked the room for you two.”

“With all due respect Babette, Sevika here hasn't requested me and I figured it rude to assume.”

Babette hisses out your name. Her signature sign to subtly tell you that you were on thin ice. You once again must swallow your nature to argue. Bowing in submission you look Sevika in her eyes. “Miss Babette is right I am still new, am I who you'd like tonight?”

Sevika’s eyes flicker between you and your boss. Amusement twinkling bright within them. “Kind of cruel to not warn her even a little about me, Im sure I've got a reputation of some sort.”

Babette closes her eyes and shakes her head “We tried to warn her, she’s  just a bit… thick-skulled.” 

“I am not thick skulled I simply think I should get to make up my own mind on who you are based on the choices you make and not on some silly rumors or past actions I didn't get to see with my own two eyes.” You're still in bowing position, glare burning holes into the ground. Words flow out your mouth quicker than you could stop them.

“Y/N-” Babette challenges. “Miss Sevika are you sure you want to deal with her tonight?”

Sevika breaks the tension between you and Babette, walking up to you and grabbing your hand. She pulls you not so delicately towards her own body making you almost stumble straight into her chest. She stabilizes you last minute grabbing your chin. “It's sweet you want to give people the benefit of the doubt but I'm exactly the bully they say I am.” Her other hand feels unnaturally cold as she runs it down your back and over your ass, you can't control the full body shiver that comes from you. “Don't worry Babette it seems like you need someone to break her in a little.” Sevika picks you up throwing you over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes. “She's so pretty. I imagine these men probably do whatever she wants them to all the time, I'll show her how to behave.” Sevika shamelessly slaps your ass making you yelp. Making her way up the stairs with you attempting to keep whatever little dignity you had left while being absolutely manhandled.

~~

The sound of Sevika locking the door behind her makes your stomach turn a little. You don't have time to focus on that because next thing you know you're being tossed onto the master bed gracelessly.

You sit up fast, glaring at Sevika. “ I do not need anyone's help and I surely don't need to be broken down, I have every right to defend myself when I'm in the right.”

Sevika just stares at you silently. Her eyes roam all over your body in such a way you feel almost naked yet the anger flooding your veins is overriding any bashfulness you might have had in this moment. “And WHY would you want to have the reputation of being mean to the new girls? I was trying to defend you even before I knew anything about who you were.”

“That's your mistake. I didn't ask for your help.”

“Oh please if you were really so bad as they say you are you'd be banned from stepping foot into this building, which means whatever honorless predator they say you are isn't true.” You make sure to never break eye contact with her. She may be twice your size physically but you weren't about to be made to feel small. “I think your all bark no bite isn't that right Sevika?” You smile up at her, “So what'll it be, how do you want me to fuck you tonight?” You go to reach into the drawer filled with sex toys but freeze when you hear laughter.

Sevika looks thoroughly amused, almost a little crazed as she gets in the bed with you. Without even noticing it, you're backing up. That doesn't last long though because as soon as she notices she grabs your ankle and yanks you back into the perfect position to pin you down. It's only now that she's got you trapped with only one hand holding both wrists that you realized her entire arm is mechanical. You want to spend time observing it but she won't be quiet, won't stop egging you on, your eyes flit back to her face.

“Y/N was it?” She asks. Leaning down to whisper in your ear. “You might wanna stop digging the hole you're in, I've never had a woman speak to me in the way you just did.” She kisses your chin and slowly down your neck. “And here I was thinking I was gonna go easy on you cause you just look so fragile, almost too good to ruin……almost.”

Just the kisses on your neck was a lot to process. You decide to blame it on the fact you were already so worked up. It wasn't normal for any client to actually spend time pampering you. “Sevika I don't need you to do this, there really is no shame in just telling me how you want-ah!”

The lunatic was sucking rough on your neck now. There were sure to be some kind of hickey or bruise left over. “Ya know dollface I'm trying to decide if I should tie you up or just show you how easy it is for me to keep you down with one hand.”

“Kinda hng- kinda cheating if the hand you're using is metal, who wouldn't be able to hold a person down with an arm like that.”

She lets go, only to switch to her real arm holding you down. You curse in your head seeing how even when that metal arm wasn't touching you she still had you completely useless underneath her. Immediately you try to resist yet you are still subdued by one very muscular arm. “What nothing to say to that?”

Rolling your eyes you are growing tired of this quickly. “Wasting time trying to pretend you're a top, Sevi?”

“Says the woman squirming underneath me.”

“You put your teeth on me who wouldn't make a few noises at that!” You spit back.

“Oh Y/N you really gonna make this so much harder than it has to be.” Her other arm comes to the top of your one piece pulling it down to expose your chest.

“I am not being the difficult one, my job is to bring you pleasure and you won't just spit out what you really want, you think I'm going to believe you come here and blow hundreds of dollars just so you can finger me real good then leave?” You scoff, utterly unconvinced. “You’re just like the men who ask me ‘Do you like that?’ as they massage a spot that's thirty damn feet away from my clit.”

Sevika actually snorts at that. “Alright Y/N, yeah you got me, im here to use you. Since you wanna know so bad what gets me off then I'll tell you-” She slides her arm up your skirt and into your panties, slowly sliding two fingers over your cunt and landing only slightly away from the hood of your clit. She leans down and licks the bit of sweat that's materialized on your neck all the way up to your ear. “Nothing turns me on more than breaking down pretty brats like you by putting them through the fucking mattress.”

Her fingers land directly on your sweet spot making you choke. You search her face for signs that she's just trying to pick with you but this is the most sincere she's seemed all night. Pleasure and worry mix in your gut, you try to reverse your hips back not wanting to give into what she's demanding but she doesn't let you run. She tuts at you leaning down to take one nipple in her mouth. It's maddening the way she toys with the jewelry switching back and forth until both of your nips are hard. You’re fighting back panting, deciding to bite your lip and force silence. You can't remember the last client that actually made you feel an inch of pleasure. You were at a loss furrowing your brows together you refused to look at her, opting to pretend you were somewhere else.

“Open your eyes, it's one of your few good traits.”

“Oh screw-” your sassy response is interrupted by the palm of her hand landing a clean slap directly to your cunt. The response you have is out of your control, writhing in pleasure and pain your legs attempt to snap close anything to stop her from doing it again, but then you recognize she doesn't need to do it again she's already got exactly what she wanted from that.

“Look at the mess you've made from barely being played with?” She flashes her palm at you and it's covered in your essence. Slick running down her hand she goes in for a long lick letting a filthy deep groan out. “You taste as good as you look Y/N.” Once she's sure you're watching she closes her eyes and becomes consumed with tasting the fruit of her labor. “I’d let you taste but I don't think you deserve something so sweet with that rotten personality of yours.” Her last suck is exaggerated. Three of her fingers slowly slide out her mouth, saliva trail following them. “Well maybe-” she slowly brings her fingers to your mouth and desperately you surge forward to try and get a taste of her but as soon as you do you’re met with her taking your thigh and hitching it up on her hip as the three fingers push into your pussy and begin vibrating.

When you wail and arch up into her she hums in approval. “Oh yeah, there we go.” Sevika’s fingers are so long, she's hitting a place in you that you aren't accustomed to. You wanna fight it, fight her, but all you can do is wrap your fingers into the bedsheets and fuck up against her. “Enjoying my fingers I see, what'll you do if I really fuck you.”

“S-shut up!” The command comes out as a squeal. “Vibrating metal fingers what kind of…” your brain starts to blank. You shake your head back in forth trying to remember the words. “What kind of sadistic pervert do you have to be to even think of this.”

A sensation you've never felt before washes over you, immediately you try to close your legs and continue complaining. “Sevika be serious for a moment I feel off, let me go I need a moment.”

The woman's eyes show her confusion and then light up. “Oh my God you've gotta be joking, a sex worker who's never-” she trails off. You can see the gears turning in her head. “You aren't going anywhere, I have something to show you, something to prove.” She growls into your ear.

All you can do is take it. No amount of fighting it eased the intensity or frees you from her claws.

Sevika hums, ignoring you for a while in favor of working you up. She's staring into your soul enjoying every second of the active meltdown she was sending you into. “Are you getting it now? Your coworkers were right about me, you just accidentally admitted you were wrong.”

Only every other word is processed through your brain. Hips jerking up into her hand. The tightening in your stomach is undeniable. It’s been so long since you've cared to cum at all. Sex being your job had made it so much less interesting until this very moment when Sevika was dragging an orgasm out of you one way or another.

“I'm-pl-no I'm not gonna-” you swallow down the urge to beg. “Shit oh!” You arch so high it's almost painful. An incoherent squeal leaves your lips while she works you down from your high. Your eyes are once again squeezed shut and you don't open them again until you hear her meddling around in the drawer. You see her fixing a harness around her and immediately go into negotiation mode.

“Sevika, hunny, I don't think I can handle anymore that was intense and….” You're struggling to come up with the words to deter her. From just the glance she throws your way, you both know you can absolutely handle more physically but the embarrassment of being the only one fully naked, soaking wet, and near tears at the pleasure after all the mouthing off you did earlier, now that might kill you.

The smile she flashes at you says it all but still, she rubs it in “What's wrong baby? You look so good like this all messy underneath me. I'm all bark no bite right? so what's got you acting like my touch might burn you?”

“I am not!” You cry out. Your will to fight is being broken down little by little. “Who wouldn't cum after what you've done to me! It's only natural-”

She sticks her fingers in your mouth and without even thinking you start cleaning them off. Sucking them the way you know people like, normally it's you making people melt beneath you but you've finally met your match. “You're right about one single thing, for a slut like you this is natural~”

Sevika reaches into the bag she brought and the dildo attachment she pulls out makes your eyes widen. You try to pull back, to protest the size, to wiggle away but she's already accounted for all those reactions. She grabs your ankles pushing them near your head, not used to this position you groan at the feeling.

“Aw Y/N did just the stretch of your legs feel good right there? Your gonna love what I've got in store for you.”

“No, no, there's no way that's going to fit inside me, find someone else to torture with ah~” Your body betrays you, bucking up against the toy when she rubs it through your cunt to gather the wetness. Pure panic hits you and the next words tumble out so fast you can't stop it. “Sevika-” you try giving her puppy dog eyes. “Sevika I apologize.”

“HA!” the sound she lets out is so demeaning. “I think this is about something completely different than what you are crying about, maybe if you spit it out I'll go easy on you, hmm?”

Shit. You know she's beginning to read you like a book and yet you still try to talk your way out of this. “No I'm just intimidated by the size that's all I don't-”

Her other hand wraps itself around your throat, cutting off your lie. “A little bit ago you started whining and begged so pathetically for your freedom, you looked so so panicked, has no one ever made you squirt before? Better yet has anyone ever touched your g-spot before me because all I did was graze it and you fell apart at the seams.”

Fuck.

“Sevika I think-”

“No, you don't.” She smiles in response to the wicked glare you shoot her way.

“I THINK- you could find a woman who will do this for you for free, you are burning money for no reason.”

“Aw concerned for my well-being?”

You truthfully couldn't care less why she's doing what she's doing right now. She's paying to wreck you and all you can really do to keep a little composure is bicker with her. “I'm concerned about your brain it must be fried! You think I've gotten this far in life and never squirted?! I simply don't enjoy it…”

The look Sevika gives you lets you know that she knows you are full of shit. Though this time she doesn't roll her eyes, she starts rubbing little circles on your thighs soothing the small ache trying to take hold. “Ohhhh~” Her hands leave your neck and thigh, helping you sit up. For two seconds you think you've won and successfully baited her into not destroying you with her dick.

Until she picks you up and pins you against the door.

Her hands lift you up by your ass meaning your feet aren't on the ground anymore. The wind is almost knocked out of you and she smirks watching your naked breast heave, trying to get air back.

“Damnit Sevika!” It comes out strangled and strained. “I just said-”

“Oh, I heard you angel…I'm gonna abide by your wishes don't worry.” Her hands keep you spread out. Using the cum already coating your pussy, she makes sure her dildo is well lubricated. Truthfully you didn't even know being this wet was something you were capable of but you’d be damned if you addmited that to her. “Loud and clear” Sevika slowly inches into you choosing to watch your face contort as she maliciously complies with your story. Only the tip is in when she pulls back out slowly. Her hips are barely moving and you slowly deduce what this is.

“I wonder what I did to make God send me such a malicious woman to my bed, ah-fuck!-”

She only gives you one satisfying thrust to shut you up, then she's back to being a bully.

You look up at her through your eyelashes. She's clearly gonna keep you here, keep gently pushing your buttons until you malfunction. You fear with how lightly she's rubbing your clit she's willing to spend all night here in bed until you squeal. Until you beg for her to properly breed you.

After only a few minutes you can't take it anymore. You push your hips up, forcing the toy almost halfway inside you. Even that feels more rewarding than whatever crumbs she was giving you. It's short lived of course as she pulls out.

“Now Y/N what was that?” Quirking an eyebrow she's clearly holding back a smile. “You just bitched about not wanting me to touch your g spot or make you squirt, So stop moving and behave. Let me use you like a pocket pussy.”

Fuck Sevika. No matter what you did she was always quick to one-up you. You’re ready to crash out on this woman but a solution comes to mind. “Well you are right I don't like it but I don't want you to take all night to bust so I'll take it quietly if I must.” Crossing your arms you toot your nose up, she may fuck the pride and respect out your body but she could never take your spite.

“Aw” Sevika coos. “For me? You shouldn't have-” She fixes your position then thrusts till her hips connect with yours. She pulls out a few more times then slams back in every time. “You really shouldn't have.”

The woman sets a fast, hard pace. That wretched toy is so big you can not only feel the tip hit your stomach but see the bulge. Your hand goes down to push at Sevika's hips but because of the difference in your two strengths, she pays it no mind. Once again she's beating up your pussy and your left slackjawed and crying. Her dick thrust into the deepest most sensitive part of you over and over. There's nothing you can do now, you know you'll be clowned tomorrow for the way your wailing right now but it can't be helped. The cheap walls rattled with every push of her hips. No matter how much you tried to deny her your body is always honest. Say you don't like it but your pretty pussy is clenching so sweetly around the toy.

Around her.

“Oh Y/N the way your tits bounce is worth every penny I spent tonight. Sevika decides to look down to where you’re joined. Biting her lip she slows down to grind into your cunt staring shamelessly at your body. “Almost forgot about her~” Mechanical fingers come to caress your clit. Almost immediately that feeling takes hold in your tummy again and it's mind-numbingly intense. Your pitiful writhing is enough of a sign to know that you're racing toward your edge. Her real arm on your behind is single-handly keeping you up, she squeezes your ass hard before taunting. “Nothing else to say Y/N?”

All you know is pleasure right now. All you know is Sevika. You would be so disappointed in yourself later for melting like an ice cream cone in the summer heat in front of a woman like her but right now you were being reduced to a whiney bottom who wanted special treatment.

“Vika….please kiss me?”

Sevika froze for just a moment, confused by the sudden intimacy between you two. Normally she would shoot you down but God were you so damn gorgeous, your hair was a mess, lips swollen, makeup smudged, and still you were the best looking woman she's ever seen. She decides to indulge you and honestly herself too. Something switches in her brain when your kiss taste like cherry lipgloss Sevika sucks on your tongue not letting you retreat until she's had her fill. “Better Y/N?”

“So much better! So good! Gonna…I'm gonna make a mess if you don't stop Vika.” It's inevitable now. You were already leaking onto the damn floor, “Vika permission to cum? I want you to unh- want you to tell me I can mmm wanna be your good girl!”

Sevika considers being cruel, especially since you were being a brat the entire night and now that she had you about to blow you wanna act right but your angelic voice and tiny tears accumulating in the corner of your eyes were enough to stop her. “You don't deserve it but I'm so gracious that I'll give it to ya~”

That's all it takes, thank you is all you can get out before it turns to mindless moaning. Your hips jerk uncontrollably as you splash Sevika's pants, shirt, and even her face. Your hands are tangled in her hair and the tension makes Sevika groan. She wastes no time wiping the cum into her mouth and letting out a noise fit for the filthiest of porns. The mess you are making is all she could ask for and more. A model material girl all messed up like this because of her? Life couldn't be any sweeter. The cherry on top was how defiant you started out as only to crumple like a wet napkin.

Sevika surprisingly carried your princess style back to the bed, finding a dry area to lay you down. “Listen I'm not much for aftercare…” she trails off awkwardly.

Exhausted, you giggle. “That's okay Sevika you can go, I'm a big girl and I imagine there's other customers I have to deal with.”

Sevika returns to her grumpy face. “Can you even walk right now?” Annoyance clear in her voice. “Stop acting tough.” She shakes her head gray eyes rolling for the millionth time that night. “You seem damn near delirious”

You waved her off, pushing up on your elbows to look at her. “Well your times about up so you have to leave regardless, I'll just take a female client first until I regain my strength. “Would you like me to see you to the front door Sevika?”

For a reason she can't place you were pissing her off. “If you get up I'll make you regret it.” She pokes a finger at your chest. “I'll be back and you better be in the exact same spot Y/N.” With that, she nearly rushes out of the room. About 15 minutes later she's back and silently gets into bed with you.

“Sevika you gotta go and I gotta get back to work! Lets-”

She pulls you by the waist against her chest. “No.”

You are so tired but resist dozing off until she speaks up. “The room and you are mine till the morning sun comes up. Now go to sleep I can tell you need it badly.”

There's no energy left to actually tease her and it's nothing but a fleeting thought. You fall asleep peacefully for the first time in weeks.

[howlingday]

Heiress to the Schnee Dust Company

Jaune: To be perfectly honest, Mr. Schnee, what you're doing could be classified as embezzlement.

Jacques: (Scoffs) Embezzlement? My dear boy, I am the successor of the Schnee Dust Company, chosen by Nicholas Schnee himself in the event his daughter, my wife, proved to be unable to function, which is something only possible after enough Six Swans has been consumed~.

Shareholders: (Laugh)

Jaune: Well, what if I told you that there was another successor, someone who has no idea Nicholas Schnee is their father?

Jacques: What are you talking about?

Jaune: (Lifts book) I have, in my hands, the diary of one Nicholas W. Schnee, former CEO of the Schnee Dust Company!

Weiss: You have what?!

Jaune: (Whispers) I found it looking around in your family's library and I stole it. Please don't be mad at me!

Jaune: (Speaking aloud) If I could read a passage from his entry dated for September, 18 years ago...

Jaune: (Reading) "I am a volcano of lust...

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

Nicholas: (Writing) I've made it this far in this business by following my heart. And I must follow it now... in love. If she just gives me a sign, an opening...

???: Would you like me to wipe the leaves of your tree, Mr. Schnee?

Nicholas: Please, call me Nicholas~.

???: (Blushes) Would you like me to wipe the leaves of your tree... Nicholas~?

Nicholas: (Stands from his desk) Yes...

Nicholas: (Approaches her) Yes~...

Nicholas: (Grabs hold of her) YES~!

???: OH~!

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

Jaune: And who was this woman? I have here the ledger for the night of the same day as the diary entry, and only one woman was working that night! Sadly, she was forced to flee Atlas, and give birth to this child in another Kingdom. A daughter born on June 5th...

Nora: That's my birthday...

Jaune: To a woman who perished fleeing the Grimm... a Miss Eire Valkyrie...

Nora: That's my mom!

Jaune: And the rightful heiress to the Schnee Dust Company!

Nora: That's my company?!

Jaune: And a simple DNA test will show that Nora Valkyrie is the major stockholder of the Schnee Dust Company!

Nora: That is my company!

Blake: THAT'S YO COMPANY~!

Nora: THAT IS MY COMPANY, WOOOOO~!

Ruby: Way to go, Nora~!

Nora: FREE PANCAKES FOR EVERYONE~!

Jacques: Now wait just a damn minute! Regardless of this information, I'M still the CEO of this company!

Nora: Jacques Schnee!

Jacques: (Whips around, Nora behind him)

Nora: YOU'RE FIRED.

Jacques: (Hauled away) YOU CAN'T DO THIS TO ME! DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM?!

Nora: (Pointing at stockholders) And also, you're fired! And you're fired! And you are definitely fired!

Klein: If it is agreeable to you, Madam, I'd like to stay under the Schnee family's employ, which would, of course, include you.

Nora: Fine. You can stay. BUT starting Monday morning, I expect pancakes for breakfast every morning.

Klein: (Bows) Very good, Ma'am.

[cuckoo-on-a-string]

Paper Pirates

MDNI

An unconventional member of an unconventional crew, you find yourself wrestling with frustrations out of your league

Shanks x f!reader (more relevant in part 2)

It was supposed to be a one-shot.

There are many roads to piracy.

Paperwork shouldn’t be one of them.

Sailors fly the jolly roger for adventure, for freedom, for greed. Sweet or savage, pirates turn to the sea for a thrilling life away from responsibility. Not for double-entry accounting.

It should be all swords and swashbuckling, especially on a yonko’s flagship. Music and tuneless singing have steeped in the ship’s hull along with sea brine and rum, staining the Red Force with a mighty reputation.

And yet. Here you sit: ink-stained fingers, spectacles, and all.

The financial charts, ledgers, and reports from across the Emperor’s territory make a compelling excuse to skip the evening’s celebrations. Light from the overhead lantern trembles with the rhythmic force of a dozen idiots dancing – or fighting – on deck. You have a job to do and frankly can’t be assed to even feign interest, not that you put much effort into the pretense since your first introduction.

Shanks called for this particular event because it’s a day ending in y. No one has cannons aimed at the Red Force, and there’s no pressing need for sobriety. Standard practice, really.

The exposure to the crew’s merry making itches under your skin like sun blisters. You’ll burn if you get too much, but it’s an unavoidable hazard at sea.

Even if you’re only half-crew.

You’re a leap and a bound above a coddled passenger but so removed from the functional hierarchy you don’t even have a title.

Except. Well. There was always…

“Nerd!”

You drag your eyes away from ledger lines and decimals to blink at Yasopp. The sniper is drunk and enjoying himself. And pointing at you.

“Captain says you have to have a drink when you’re done.”

One finger curls over a notebook’s cover, and you contemplate how many more hours of work you can eek out before you’re too tired for responsible accounting.

“I swear the books get worse every time I come back.” It’s lighthearted, but also too fucking true. “I’ll be working late.”

Yasopp shakes his head. Grins. “Orders.”

Your eyes roll away from the pirate and back to the mathematic wreck on the desk. “Whatever. Just leave me something and I’ll lift a glass to your unconscious ass before I sleep.”

Cackling, Yasopp ferries your answer back to the party, and you work the puzzle of knotted equations until the lantern stops swinging and the racket falls silent. Pirates not on watch stumble through the corridors on their way to their bunks, slurring and laughing on the other side of the wall. Even that goes quiet eventually.

Your eyes burn from focusing too hard to blink for minutes on end, and you decide it’s safe to stop for the night. Off come the glasses, neatly folded and tucked into a desk drawer. They’ll be safer there than on your person, and you only need them for reading fine print. You didn’t used to. Not when you started. But that’s true of a lot of things.

With joints that creak like the steps you ascend, you head up on deck. Bodies of the fallen sleep under a blanket of stars – the ones who drank themselves to sleep or refused to leave the party before waking in the morning. The few on watch peer down from crow’s nests or attend minor chores around their comrades’ spread limbs and upturned bellies.

Yellow lights contrast with the velvet black-blue stitching together endless sea and sky, and you can’t help relaxing just a little as you approach the one table with a conscious crewman. The cherry of his cigarette burns bright, and smoke curls into the breeze.

“Benn.”

He nods, mumbling your name. As you sit, he slides a large tankard to your side of the table.

It doesn’t look like wine. Doesn’t smell like beer. It’s the wrong color for sake. “It’s rum, isn’t it?”

“Didn’t send Yasopp with a preference,” the first mate says. The telling glint in his eye betrays his good humor. “This was all we had left.”

“I’ve seen the inventory. There’s plenty for the next week of travel, even if the crew gets shit-faced twice a day.”

Benn shrugs. “It was all that was left on deck.”

You doubt it, even if it’s more plausible, but there’s no point arguing. Time to finish the last task of the day.

Lifting the heavy cup, you tilt your head back and chug.

“Steady.” Benn watches with his arms crossed.

You drink rather than answer. Swallowing fire, you drain half of what was left for you.

“I’m tired,” you say when you stop to breathe, “and I want to go to bed.”

Bed is a hammock in the groaning belly of the ship. Surrounded by other hammocks. Full of pirates. Who snore. Loudly. A night of drinking never helps the volume, but maybe your share will help you black out.

“If I drink fast enough, I’ll be asleep before it hits and it won’t matter.”

“If you say so.”

He’s very good at letting people make their own mistakes. You’ve watched him to it. But this isn’t the first time you’ve rushed through liquid social obligations on your way to rest. He doesn’t know you as well as he thinks, you’re sure.

The second half of the rum goes down like the first, and you aren’t even tipsy as you take your leave and head below. It’s a good plan. Maybe it would’ve worked, too, if it weren’t for the chaos you find in your assigned quarters.

While the little study always holds records, you aren’t aboard often enough to have a dedicated sleeping space. No cabin. Not even a bunk. Just a hammock in the hold with the lower ranks. You left your small trunk by one near the door, and you’d slept there for the past five nights running without issue.

Until now.

There must’ve been a brawl, or one of the bigger men misjudged his approach under the influence, because a wad of ripped and tangled hammocks sits piled in the center of the room. All the remaining options, including your unofficially claimed space, are full.

You can’t go to bed.

There is no bed.

Benn doesn’t seem surprised when you come back.

Sooner or later, the rum will hit, and you know better than to wait for it on your feet. So, you pick a place by Benn’s table and settle with your ass on the deck and your back against a wall.

Technically speaking, you’ve slept in worse places.

Realistically speaking, you usually sleep in better.

Honestly speaking, you’re too old for this shit.

This is the consequence of your actions. Today it’s glasses and rum. Tomorrow it will be a sore head and an aching tailbone. The day after it will probably be a cannonball to the face. No matter how lackadaisical the crew behaves, they’re all pirates at the end of the day, and so are you.

Why are you a pirate? Why are you here? Your life was so slow and orderly before a big grin and a thatch of red hair flipped it on its head. Did you ever actually agree to this life, or did you just fail to argue with the plan? That must be the problem. If you never learn to say no, whatever comes is your fault. But if you learn to say no, you’ll have to learn to say yes, too. That might be worse.

Of course, Benn can’t let you mope in peace.

“What’s eating ya?”

“Mosquitoes, maybe.”

“Nah.” He stubs out the butt of his cigarette and reaches for the pack. “Been off since your last sabbatical. Longer, if we’re being honest, but it really has its teeth in you now.”

“Nothing.” Gods. You sound like a teenager.

He hums, lights up a fresh smoke, and leaves it alone.

You can’t even explain why you’re in a bad mood. It’s just vibes. A feeling that makes sense until you try caging it in words.

You’ve been part of Shank’s entourage for years now, and you’ve seen the impact of his influence.

He makes things better. Things grow under his care.

That’s good. That’s great. That’s better than most folks in the New World ever expect to find in their lifetimes. But somehow it doesn’t apply to you.

You let your head fall back against the wall. The hollow thunk sounds as empty as you wish you could make your skull.

People drink to forget, or so some sad, broken soul tells you in every bar in every port you’ve ever visited. It’s a neat trick you never learned, though. Booze makes you think. Then it makes you speak. Then it makes you sleep.

It doesn’t make you the party girl the Red-Haired Pirates clearly hoped for the first time they dragged you into a night of carousing. It didn’t help your on-again off-again crewmate status. No one besides a handful of the most seasoned officers knew how to speak to you, and you could count those on one hand.

If you could bring yourself to care less about what you did, you would’ve flipped everyone the bird ages ago, refused to board the Red Force after one of your little layovers and made a home somewhere.

But you can’t, and you don’t, and the alcohol fumes up from belly to brain with old memories.

Once upon a time you bumped into a grey-haired man at the dock. His hands were full of loose papers and notebooks. When they clattered to the ground, you immediately helped pick them up, because that was just good manners. As you gathered the pages, you saw the numbers, and your brain leapt ahead of your mouth, so as you handed the collection back to Shank’s first mate, you blithely mentioned, “You have some transportation and duplication errors in the top account that are throwing off your totals.”

And, low and behold, the next day the first mate – one Benn Beckman – tracked you down and discussed working for one of the most powerful people in the Grand Line.

You almost turned him down. You tried, actually. But he insisted you at least hear his captain out, face to face. And then Shanks smiled, and it was all over.

They gave you a strange job.

Emperors reigned in their own ways. Force and threats were standard, but Shanks followed no rules. He governed without actually doing anything, relying on booty stolen at sea and the generosity of thriving island economies to maintain his ship and crew. At least it looked that way from the outside. But the system relied on more than luck and good looks.

Your tasks follow a cycle. The Red Force drops you at an island, leaves you there, then picks you up a few (many) months later. When you’re aboard, you review and balance the ship’s books. When you’re on land, you do the real work. You record how things work on the island, or how they don’t, and you gather the numbers to prove it. Then Shanks and his commanders use your data to find the best ports for long stays, to spot unrest before it became insurrection, and to generally handle pirate business.

Honestly, you enjoy it. You never thought your uncanny skills with numbers could lead to so much travel, and you like island hopping. It’s nice to be special. It’s nice to be needed, even a little. It should be enough. You have more than most.

The itch in the back of your mind has been getting worse, though, especially as you start looping back to hubs you visited in your early days as a quasi-pirate.

Things have grown. People have put down roots. They flourish and offer good fruit in return.

But you haven’t found a way to grow into the Red-Hair Pirates the way other people settle into their lives. Your roots grasp at salt water.

At the start of this adventure, years ago, you let the tide wash you out to sea. It’s no one’s fault but yours, and that doesn’t make you feel any better, so you self-isolate and avoid what you can’t explain.

Pirates aren’t big on feelings talk.

And you’re at least half a pirate.

“Eh, nerd still can’t hold her rum?”

Apparently, Shanks hasn’t surrendered to tomorrow’s hangover yet.

You huff as Benn’s chuckle rumbles over you. Without opening your eyes, which slipped closed at some point you can’t be fucked to remember, you say, “Nerd can hold her rum. Nerd’s hammock was a casualty of war.”

“Ah.” A chair creaks as the captain joins Beckman’s table. “Should’ve known you wouldn’t stay out voluntarily. And if you hold your rum so well, why don’t you have another with us?”

“I did my duty. I just want to sleep.”

Shanks tsks, and you finally crack an eye open. He’s taken the chair closest to your spot on the floor. “Why aren’t you sleeping?” You knock your boot against his bare ankle, frowning. “You should take better care of yourself.”

“Are you going to nip at me like a sheepdog until I do? Come on, you’re awake. Have another drink.”

The insistence is inching towards an order. While the Red Hair Pirates have never followed conventional standards of respect, when Shanks tells you to do something, you listen.

Groaning, swearing, and taking your precious time, you stretch and inch away from the haze of sleep. You spare a filthy look for Beckman as you clamber onto a chair, because you can easily reason your way into this being his fault. The bastard smirks around his cigarette.

Maybe he really did plan this. Maybe Shanks did. Maybe the rats are in this together. Fuck knows what “this” is, but you’re sailing through Tipsy on the way to Drunk, and clearly there are plans in motion to blow you to the far shores of Hammered.

Fresh bottles have appeared on the table as if by magic, and you pull your discarded tankard over, resigned to your fate. It’s already been refilled.

You drink. So does Shanks. Beckman enjoys his smoke.

It’s…companionable. If it was always like this, maybe you could set your roots in the Red Force’s planks. Trust it to be a home.

But you’ll be ashore again in a few days, and if you let yourself grow into the crew, you’ll tear yourself apart when they leave.

And if they never come back?

Even a Yonko can die. And Shanks is changeable. One day they may not come back for you.

Did you eat dinner? The rum glows warm in your blood.

You find yourself ready to forgive Beckman. For… whatever. He was responsible. He was never the problem.

Shanks is deep in his thoughts, famous red hair drifting in the breeze. As he quietly enjoys his sake, you glare.

“Do you realize how frustrating you are?”

His cup pauses against his lips. His eyebrows leap up. “Eh?”

Yes. This is what you’ve been wrestling with it. He’s the problem.

“You’re the strongest.” You gesture as you speak, and rum splashes out, burning the cracked skin over your knuckles. “No one else can take care of you, so you better take care of yourself.”

Another kick. You aim for your captain’s ankle again, but you hit his shin. It’s not a big deal. It’s not like you could hurt him if you tried. While you aren’t the weakest aboard the Red Force, you’re pretty damn far from the strongest.

Shanks whines anyway, and Beckman’s dry laugh sounds like old leaves rattling in the wind.

“Seriously.” You empty your cup. That gives the truth time to percolate. There’s no helping it now. You’re smashed, and your dignity has flown. Your fist props up your drooping head as tangled thoughts spin out into thread.

“It’s so frustrating. You have no idea what’s like being weaker than someone you love.”

The immediate silence takes a minute to catch up with you. The rum has floated you beyond a standard perception of time, and your head is too loud to notice everything outside hasn’t kept up.

You frown.

You think.

And you realize.

In that moment, you aren’t a ship. There is no chair, table, or lantern to keep you steady. You’re floating in the black abyss, and you know without seeing that a sea king is circling for the kill. There’s no air. Or light. Or distraction. Just terrible, dreadful awareness.

Oh, gods.

Stars, seas, and sabers. Fucking hells and all the horrors below.

You love Shanks.

It’s the stupidest thing in the world, and it makes perfect sense.

You just informed on yourself. To yourself. And possibly to the two men eyeing you, but there’s grace in nebulous phrasing, and no one should be taken too seriously after so much rum.

You leap to your feet and point straight between the captain’s eyes.

“I am drunk, and I refuse to face the consequences of my actions.”

Shanks just blinks at you, and Beckman keeps his thoughts to himself as you back away, trip over your chair, and stagger back down to the study. You hold your head so high you can’t see your feet, and you earn a dozen nicks and bruises on your way.

You sleep in the corner with your jacket as a blanket, and in the morning, you tell yourself nothing happened at all.

[butterfly-lies-chase-them-away]

EXCUSE ME MISS MA’AM!?

Hi I speak for everyone that if you have the time, energy, and love…. Could you please give us a part two of Bunny. Yeah we’re gonna need that in order to function properly. I am begging at this point.

P.S. you are a beautiful person!

Sincerely,

Chaos

I love you babes! 💚 again, I cannot believe an amazing author like YOU, wanted a part two from ME! This absolutely means the work to me. Thank you :)

Bunny (Part 2) - Health Ledger!Joker x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Joker x Fem!Reader Joker x Reader with Anxiety

Word Count: 11,941

Warnings: violence, Joker, manipulation, minor age gap, implied stalking, technically breaking and entering Summary: This new-found relationship- if it could even be labelled as such, has been wearing on Y/n. Being with a wanted criminal generally does that to a person, she finds. Now, when she encounters a potential new friend during her lecture, how will this dynamic fit into her already tumultuous existence?

(MASTERLIST) (Part One) - (Part Three)

A/N: Thank you everyone in fact for all the support on this fic that I've gotten and a lot of requests for a part two so I hope I can deliver! I love this man so much (maybe not as much as our girl Chaos, but you get me). In this one, I definitely wanted to make him more manipulative and just overall aggressive so ✨ slay ✨ So I hope you all enjoy this part two :) 💚

-

To describe her newfound "relationship" with the Joker as unconventional would be a massive understatement. If Y/n wasn't anxious before, she most certainly was now. The Joker's presence in her life was a constant source of unease, his unpredictable nature and the shadow of his criminality casting a dark cloud over her thoughts.

The fear of discovery gnawed at her mind like a relentless beast. What if someone saw him entering her dorm? What if word got out and she became a target? Despite the Joker's assurances of protection, Y/n couldn't shake the nagging doubt that lingered in the depths of her mind.

And then there were the surprise visits, each one a jolt to her already frazzled nerves. With no means of contacting him or determining when they would meet, Y/n found herself at the mercy of the Joker's whims, her schedule and peace of mind constantly disrupted.

What truly unsettled her, however, was the realization that the Joker seemed to have an uncanny ability to keep tabs on her, lurking in the shadows without her knowledge. She was trapped in a game she didn't fully understand, a pawn in the Joker's twisted world, with no escape in sight.

But it wasn’t all too bad, for one thing, he was surprising very generous, in his own way. He’d show up, showering her with gifts and other offers that kept her on her toes. He’s also offered to buy Y/n a high end apartment, but knowing him, it would be paid with dirty money, which is something she’d think about everytime she stepped into the apartment. 

Despite his unpredictable nature, she couldn't deny the feelings she harbored for him. In his presence, she experienced emotions she had never known before, a strange mixture of fear and exhilaration that left her breathless. Strangely, amidst the chaos and danger that surrounded him, he had a way of making her feel oddly calm and grounded.

Nights like these were the ones she cherished most. Lying on her single bed, Joker enveloped her in his embrace, his warmth providing a sense of solace that she found nowhere else. They remained in silence, finding comfort in each other's presence.

Y/n felt his lips press against the side of her head, eliciting a slight groan as she instinctively reached to wipe away the residue of his makeup. She hadn't yet seen him without it, respecting his choice to keep his identity concealed, but sometimes wished she could see the man behind the mask.

"You don't like my kisses?" Joker quirked an eyebrow, teasingly.

"It's not your kisses I mind, it's the greasy mess you leave behind," Y/n replied with a playful grin.

“Greasy mess? Like this?” Joker responded by nuzzling his face against hers, prompting a laugh from Y/n as she attempted to push him away.

Y/n playfully pushed Joker away, laughing as she saw his face paint smudged from their playful exchange. It wasn't until she caught her own reflection in the small mirror across the room that she realized her own face was adorned with similar streaks of color.

"Oh yay! Now I have to go out and clean my face," she remarked, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

Joker glanced at his reflection in the mirror, a grin spreading across his face as he observed the colorful mess they had created together.

"It's a masterpiece," he declared with a mischievous glint in his eye.

Y/n couldn't help but laugh, feeling a sense of freedom and happiness in these moments with Joker, despite the uncertainty that lingered in the background.

Y/n rose from the bed, intending to clean the smeared face paint from her skin, but Joker's voice halted her in her tracks.

"Where do you think you're going?" he inquired, a hint of annoyance in his tone.

"Just to wash my face," Y/n replied, her voice gentle.

Joker's response was immediate. "Later," he insisted, his arms beckoning her back to the warmth of their shared space.

Reluctantly, Y/n made her way back to him, sinking back into the comfort of Joker's embrace as they resumed their quiet companionship.

As they lay together in silence, Y/n couldn't shake the feeling of unease that lingered in her mind. Joker's presence, though comforting in its own way, was a constant reminder of the unpredictable nature of their relationship.

Lost in her thoughts, Y/n felt Joker's hand gently stroking her hair, a gesture that contrasted sharply with his usual erratic demeanor. She turned to look at him, meeting his intense gaze.

"Now tell me… What’s going on inside that little mind of yours, Bunny?" Joker asked softly, his eyes searching hers for answers.

Y/n hesitated, unsure how to articulate the swirling emotions inside her. "Just... wondering about us," she admitted quietly.

Joker caressed her cheek, "You worry too much, Doll," he murmured, pulling her closer to him.

But despite his reassurance, Y/n couldn't shake the feeling of uncertainty that gnawed at her insides. She knew that navigating a relationship with the Joker would never be easy, but for now, all she could do was hold onto him and hope for the best.

-

As Y/n stirred from her slumber from her sudden alarm ringing, the absence of Joker's warmth beside her sent a pang of loneliness through her. Rubbing her eyes, she sat up in bed and glanced around the room, the morning light casting a soft glow over the empty space.

With a heavy sigh, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed and reached for her phone to silence the persistent alarm. The familiar routine of the morning only served to highlight the absence of Joker's presence, leaving Y/n feeling a sense of gloom that lingered like a shadow.

Despite knowing that their time together was fleeting and unpredictable, Y/n couldn't help but yearn for the comfort of Joker's embrace. But as she resigned herself to another day without him by her side, she knew that the loneliness was a small price to pay for the moments of connection they shared.

-

Navigating the familiar corridors of Gotham University, Y/n followed her well-worn path to her lecture hall. As she walked down the steps, she suddenly stopped. Someone was sitting in her spot. Well- it technically wasn’t her seat, but it had become her unofficial spot through habit.

Her heart quickened with uncertainty as Y/n scanned the room, searching for an alternative seat. Sighing in relief, she found herself an empty row along the side, a makeshift refuge from the disruption to her routine.

As she took her seat, she couldn't shake the feeling of being out of place. It was unsettling to deviate from her routine, even in such a small way. But she reminded herself that change was inevitable, and sometimes it was necessary to step out of her comfort zone.

Just as she started to relax into her new surroundings, a voice startled her from behind.

"Hey, mind if I sit here?" the voice asked, and Y/n turned to see a guy standing beside her, a friendly smile on his face.

"Uhh.. No, you can sit," Y/n replied hesitantly.

He smiled warmly, settling into the seat beside her. "I’m Max, by the way," he introduced himself.

"I’m Y/n," she responded quickly, feeling a flutter of nerves at his friendly demeanor.

"He really piled on the homework this week, didn't he?" Max said with a chuckle, referring to the professor's latest reading.

Y/n nodded, a small smile forming on her lips. "Tell me about it. I feel like I'm drowning in articles."

Max laughed, a sound that was oddly comforting to Y/n's ears. "Well, at least we're in the same boat. Misery loves company, right?"

As they chatted, Y/n couldn't help but notice the genuine kindness in Max's eyes and the way his smile reached all the way to his eyes. It was a stark contrast to the unpredictable intensity she experienced with Joker.

Despite her lingering anxiety, Y/n found herself enjoying the conversation, feeling a sense of normalcy she hadn't felt in a long time. For the first time in a while, Y/n felt a glimmer of excitement at the prospect of forming a new connection. Maybe this blip in her routine was exactly what she needed.

-

As they walked up the steps, Max's voice cut through the murmurs of departing students. He turned to Y/n with a friendly smile, his eyes bright with enthusiasm. "I'm heading to the library. Care to join?"

Y/n paused, her gaze flitting to the clock before returning to Max. His genuine invitation sparked a flicker of warmth in her chest. "Thanks, but I don't think I have time," she replied, a hint of regret in her tone.

"No worries. Maybe next time?" Max suggested, his smile unwavering.

Y/n's mind raced, contemplating the possibility. She couldn't help but feel excited about Max's offer. "Sounds good," she finally said, returning his smile with a small one of her own.

"Great," Max said, his smile widening before he turned and walked out of the lecture hall.

As Y/n watched Max's retreating figure, a sense of relief washed over her. For the first time in a while, she felt a glimmer of normalcy amidst the chaos of her life.

-

Walking back to her dorm was a breeze, as it was only a short distance from campus. With each step, a smile adorned Y/n's face, a rare occurrence after a typical day at university. Beyond the casual acquaintances in her dorm, she rarely found herself engaging with others on campus.

Unlocking her dorm room door, Y/n stepped inside, only to be greeted by a sudden scream that escaped her lips. Joker stood before her, a chilling presence that sent shivers down her spine.

"You scared me!" Y/n sighed, quickly shutting the door behind her. “I didn’t expect to see you till later on.”

Joker's demeanor was unsettlingly calm as he observed her, his hands casually tucked into his pockets, an eyebrow quirked inquisitively.

"Have a... good day?" Joker's voice carried an edge of menace.

"Uhh... I suppose," Y/n replied, her nerves palpable.

There was an unmistakable tension in the air, an unspoken threat lingering between them. Y/n couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss.

"Are you okay, Joker?" Y/n asked cautiously.

"Dandy..." Joker's response was terse, his gaze piercing as he continued to scrutinize her.

Y/n's brow furrowed in concern, her instincts on high alert. But before she could voice her apprehension, Joker abruptly changed the subject, his tone taking on a predatory edge.

"Made any friends lately?" Joker's question hung in the air, loaded with an underlying threat.

"N-no," Y/n stammered, feeling like a cornered animal under Joker's scrutiny.

A sinister smile tugged at Joker's lips, an unsettling sight that sent a chill down Y/n's spine. She felt like a mouse being circled by a hungry cat- or in this case, a bunny being circled by a hungry wolf as Joker began to pace around her, his movements calculated and predatory.

"Hmmm..." Joker's voice was a low murmur, filled with unnerving curiosity. "Then who was that boy you were talking with?"

"Oh! Max," Y/n began to explain, she smiled slightly, thinking back to their encounter. "I had to sit in a different seat today, and he sat beside…"

Her words trailed off as realization dawned on her. Y/n's heart pounded in her chest as she struggled to form a coherent response. She hadn't anticipated Joker's sudden interrogation, nor did she understand how he knew about her encounter with Max.

"H-how do you know about that?"

But Joker merely smirked in response, his yellowed teeth gleaming in the dim light of her dorm room, his gaze fixated on her with an intensity that made her blood run cold.

"So, my Bunny made a friend?" Joker's smile widened, revealing his yellowed teeth in a chilling grin. "Why don’t you tell me about this… Max.".

"I-I don’t know much about him, I just met him today," Y/n explained, her voice tinged with apprehension.

"Is that so?" Joker halted abruptly, standing mere inches away from her.

Y/n nodded, her nerves palpable as she awaited Joker's next move.

"You know, Bunny," Joker began, his tone shifting to something more serious, "I don't think you should be hanging around with this Max character."

Y/n's eyes widened in surprise. "Why not?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady despite the rising fear.

"Because," Joker replied, his voice dropping to a low growl, "I don't trust him. And you should know by now that I don't like it when people get too close to what's mine."

Y/n's heart pounded in her chest as she struggled to process Joker's words. She knew he was possessive, but this felt different. More dangerous. She needed to tread carefully.

"But… he's just a friend," Y/n protested weakly, hoping to reason with Joker.

Joker's expression darkened, his eyes narrowing as he took a step closer to her. "I don't care if he's just a friend. Stay away from him, Bunny. Trust me, it's for your own good."

Y/n swallowed hard, looking down, feeling a knot of fear tightening in her stomach. She knew she had to heed Joker's warning, no matter how much it frightened her.

Joker held her jaw, tilting her head up to look at him with an intensity that sent shivers down her spine. “Is there a problem, Bunny?” he asked, his voice low and commanding.

She shook her head, feeling the weight of his hand against her skin, making it hard to think straight.

“Good,” Joker said, his lips brushing against hers in a possessive kiss. “Now, let’s go have a lie down, hmm? I know how class just wears you out,” he suggested, his tone oddly tender as he led her to the bed.

Y/n complied, allowing Joker to guide her onto the single bed. As he kicked off his shoes and settled in, she followed suit, slipping off her own shoes before nestling against his chest. His warmth enveloped her, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, feeling the familiar comfort of his body against hers.

"You know I care very much about you, Bunny?" Joker said, his voice soft yet firm.

"Yes... I know," Y/n murmured, her heart fluttering at his words.

"Good," Joker said, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to the top of her head, his touch surprisingly tender.

Looking at his wristwatch, Joker pushed himself up, not-so-gently dropping Y/n beside him. "Duty calls," he announced, his tone playful as usual.

"But it's only been like two minutes," Y/n protested, disappointment evident in her voice.

"I know, Doll... I'm gonna take you out tonight... how about that? Wear something nice, and I want you to use the money I got you, okay?" Joker suggested, a glint of excitement in his eyes.

Y/n had hoped he would have forgotten by now, it had been ages. "Yeah, okay, I'll go out and find something..." she replied, quielty.

Joker leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss on her lips. "Mwah!" he exclaimed with a grin before pulling back.

"Bye..." Y/n's voice trailed off as she watched Joker leave through her door.

She couldn't help but marvel at how he managed to slip away undetected every time, but she cracked it to Gotham University's apparent incompetence and obliviousness.

With a heavy sigh, she heaved herself up from her bed. It seemed like she wouldn't be catching a break anytime soon.

-

Y/n struggled to remember the last time she had gone shopping for clothes. She gingerly flipped through the stacks of bills, feeling a mix of awe and discomfort at the sheer amount of money in her possession. Each bill represented a dark and mysterious world she was inadvertently tied to, courtesy of the Joker's lavish gifts. Despite her reluctance to accept his extravagant gestures, she couldn't deny the allure of the possibilities they presented.

With a sigh, Y/n tucked the money into her bag and stepped out into the bustling streets of Gotham. The city seemed to pulsate with its own energy, the tall buildings casting eerie shadows on the sidewalks as people hurried by, lost in their own worlds.

As she wandered through the maze of shops and boutiques, Y/n couldn't shake the feeling of being out of place. The clothes on display were unlike anything she had ever worn before. Bold, daring, and utterly impractical. She hesitated in front of a boutique window adorned with shimmering dresses and edgy leather jackets, feeling a pang of uncertainty gnawing at her.

But then she remembered Joker's words, urging her to splurge and indulge in whatever caught her eye. With a newfound determination, she pushed open the door and stepped into the store, ready to explore this unfamiliar world of luxury and extravagance.

Lost in the sea of designer labels and vibrant colors, Y/n tried to navigate her way through racks of clothing that seemed to whisper promises of confidence and allure. She trailed her fingers over the fabrics, feeling a mixture of excitement and apprehension bubbling within her.

As Y/n looked through the racks of clothing, she sifted through each piece with a discerning eye. Among the array of options, a vibrant red dress caught her attention. It boasted a flattering knee-length hem and a square collar, but despite its appeal, Y/n couldn't shake the feeling that it lacked the wow factor she desired. With a sigh, she returned the dress to its place and continued her search, determined to find something truly captivating.

After what felt like an eternity of exploration, Y/n's patience paid off when her gaze fell upon a stunning black dress. The fabric shimmered enticingly under the store lights, drawing her in like a moth to a flame. As she reached out to touch it, her fingers traced the intricate stitching and delicate lace details that adorned the neckline, sending a shiver of excitement down her spine.

The dress exuded an air of confidence and allure that resonated with Y/n. She envisioned herself wearing it, knowing that it would accentuate her curves and command Joker’s attention. With Joker in mind, she couldn't help but imagine the look of admiration on his face when he saw her in such a striking ensemble.

Filled with determination, Y/n approached the checkout counter, the anticipation of owning the dress igniting a newfound sense of excitement within her. This was no ordinary purchase, it was a statement, a declaration of her newfound confidence.

As she handed over the wad of cash, Y/n couldn't help but feel a surge of guilt at the extravagance of her spending. The money was a reminder of the tangled web she found herself caught in, a constant reminder of the dangerous allure of the Joker's world.

But as she walked out of the boutique, clutching her new dress tightly, Y/n couldn't deny the thrill of stepping outside her comfort zone. Perhaps, just for tonight, she would embrace the luxury and excitement that came with being the Joker's Bunny.

-

With a mix of excitement and nervousness, Y/n slipped into the sleek black dress she had purchased earlier. Its smooth fabric hugged her figure in all the right places, boosting her confidence with each zip and adjustment. She paired it with elegant heels and subtle accessories, adding a touch of sophistication to her ensemble.

As she stood in front of the mirror, admiring her reflection, Y/n couldn't help but wonder where Joker would take her tonight. All he had said to her was he was taking her out, leaving her in suspense about their destination. Despite the uncertainty, she felt a thrill of anticipation coursing through her veins, eager to see what the evening had in store.

With a final glance at her reflection, Y/n took a deep breath and headed to the living room to wait for Joker. She perched herself on the edge of her bed, her heart racing with anticipation as she played with the hem of her dress, her mind buzzing with excitement for the night ahead.

As the door to her dorm room swung open, Joker stepped inside, a mischievous grin spreading across his face as he took in Y/n's appearance. Rising to her feet, she greeted him with a smile, her heart fluttering at the sight of him.

"Look at you!" Joker exclaimed, his eyes lighting up as he gestured for her to spin around. Y/n complied, a soft giggle escaping her lips as she twirled gracefully.

"I see that money came in handy," Joker remarked, wrapping his arms around her waist affectionately.

"Thank you," she replied, her voice filled with gratitude.

"Let's get a move on!" Joker declared, intertwining his fingers with hers and leading her out of the dorm room.

Exiting the building, they encountered no security at the front desk, allowing them to slip away unnoticed. As they stepped out into the crisp Gotham evening, Joker suddenly halted, turning to face Y/n with a playful glint in his eye.

"Wait right here, Bunny. I've got a little surprise for you," he said, giving her a wink before disappearing into the darkness.

Y/n watched him go, her curiosity piqued. She shifted nervously on her feet, her mind buzzing with anticipation as she wondered what Joker had in store for her.

Y/n rocked back and forth on her feet as she waited for Joker's surprise. The evening air was cool against her skin, and the soft glow of the streetlights cast gentle shadows around her. She was so lost in her thoughts that she barely noticed someone approaching until she heard her name being called.

"Hey, Y/n!" The voice was familiar, and she turned around quickly, her expression lighting up as she saw Max walking towards her.

"Hey Max," she greeted him warmly, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

"Uh, you remembered my name," Max remarked, a playful glint dancing in his eyes.

Y/n chuckled, feeling a sense of ease wash over her in Max's presence. "It's not hard to forget," she quipped back, enjoying the lighthearted banter.

Max stepped up beside her, his hands tucked casually into the pockets of his hoodie. "You look lovely," he complimented her, his gaze warm and appreciative.

"Thank you," Y/n replied, a blush spreading across her cheeks at the sincerity in his words.

"Got something special planned?" Max asked, his curiosity piqued as he glanced around at their surroundings.

"My uuh... friend is taking me somewhere," Y/n explained, feeling a pang of uncertainty about how to refer to Joker in that moment.

"I see. Well, I hope you have a wonderful night and see you later then," Max said, offering her a friendly smile before stepping away.

"You too! Bye," Y/n called after him, watching as he walked away with a sense of gratitude for his kindness. 

As Y/n stood on the sidewalk, lost in her thoughts, she suddenly heard the revving of an engine. Glancing up, she saw a sleek purple Ford Cortina pulling up in front of her, the headlights casting an ethereal glow around the vehicle. Her heart skipped a beat as she realized that it was Joker behind the wheel.

The car's engine purred softly as Joker leaned over and rolled down the window, flashing her a mischievous grin. "Hop in, Bunny," he called out, his voice laced with excitement.

Y/n couldn't help but feel a surge of anticipation as she approached the car, her pulse quickening with every step. As she slid into the passenger seat beside him, she couldn't help but admire the vintage vehicle, its purple exterior gleaming under the streetlights.

"Nice wheels," she commented, unable to hide her admiration.

Joker chuckled, his eyes alight with amusement. "It’s yours, Bunny," he said, giving her a wink before pulling away from the curb and merging into the flow of traffic.

"W-what? Really? For me?" Y/n stammered in disbelief, her eyes widening.

"Check the glove box," Joker instructed, a mischievous smile playing on his lips.

Curious, Y/n complied, opening the compartment and finding it empty save for a single black box. With a mixture of anticipation and excitement, she retrieved the box, her fingers trembling slightly as she held it in her hands.

"Open it," Joker urged, a playful glint in his eyes.

With trembling hands, Y/n carefully lifted the lid of the box, revealing a stunning gold necklace adorned with a delicate "J" pendant. Her breath caught in her throat as she gazed at the exquisite piece of jewelry, her heart swelling with gratitude and affection.

"It's beautiful," she whispered, her voice barely above a whisper as she turned to Joker, her eyes shining with emotion.

"You spoil me too much, J!" Y/n exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with gratitude as she hugged him tightly.

Joker chuckled, his smirk widening at her reaction. "You deserve it, Bunny."

With a grin, Y/n removed her current necklace and replaced it with the new one, admiring the glint of the gold against her skin.

As the city lights cast a soft glow over them, Joker seized the moment at the stoplight. Leaning towards Y/n, he pressed his lips to hers, the warmth of his touch sending a shiver down her spine. His gloved finger trailed along her jawline, igniting a tingling sensation that danced across her skin like tiny sparks.

"You're J's Bunny, got that?" Joker's voice was low, filled with a mixture of affection and authority as he held her gaze, his eyes piercing into hers with intensity.

Y/n felt her pulse quicken as she nodded, her heart swelling with a mix of excitement and adoration for the man beside her.

"Good," Joker whispered, his lips brushing against hers once more before he leaned back, his attention returning to the road as the traffic light switched to green, signaling their onward journey into the night.

“I saw you talking with someone… Want to tell me about that?” Joker suddenly mentioned. 

The air in the car suddenly felt heavy as Joker's piercing gaze bore into Y/n. She could feel the weight of his disapproval pressing down on her, suffocating her with its intensity. Her fingers fidgeted nervously in her lap as she struggled to find the right words.

"That was just my friend…Max," Y/n finally confessed, her voice barely above a whisper, her eyes fixed on the dashboard in front of her.

Joker's jaw tightened, his grip on the steering wheel growing tense. "I thought I told you to stay away from him," he reminded her, his voice cold and sharp.

Y/n's heart sank at the reprimand. She knew she had crossed a line, but Max had caught her off guard, and she hadn't wanted to be rude. "He approached me, Joker," she explained, her voice trembling with apprehension. "I couldn't just ignore him... it would have been rude."

Joker's grip on the steering wheel tightened further, his knuckles turning white with the pressure. He remained silent for a moment, his eyes fixed on the road ahead as they drove through the dimly lit streets of Gotham.

Beneath his face paint, a storm brewed in Joker's eyes, his usual charisma overshadowed by a brooding intensity. Y/n couldn't decipher the full extent of his emotions, but the tension radiating from him was palpable. It puzzled her why Joker was so fixated on someone like Max, and she struggled to understand the depth of his agitation over their brief interaction.

"I don't want you talking to him anymore, Bunny. I’ve already told you once…" he said firmly, his voice tinged with a hint of warning.

Y/n nodded silently, her stomach churning with unease. She knew better than to argue with Joker when he was in this mood. Instead, she cast a glance out the window, her mind racing with conflicting emotions.

As they continued their journey in silence, Y/n couldn't shake the feeling of guilt that gnawed at her insides. She couldn't help but wonder what would happen if she disobeyed him again.

The journey was filled with an uneasy silence, punctuated only by the occasional hum of the car engine and the distant sounds of Gotham's nocturnal activities. Finally, they arrived at their destination. A dimly lit alleyway nestled between towering buildings, their shadows looming ominously over the narrow passage.

Joker parked the car with a screech of tires, the headlights casting eerie shadows on the graffiti-covered walls. Y/n's heart raced as she stepped out of the car, her eyes darting nervously around the unfamiliar surroundings. This was undoubtedly another one of Joker's mysterious escapades, and she couldn't shake the feeling of apprehension that tinged the air.

As Y/n followed Joker deeper into the alley, she couldn't shake the feeling of unease that gnawed at her gut. The dim lighting and the deserted atmosphere made her skin crawl, but she tried to push aside her fears and focus on Joker's presence beside her.

"Where are we going?" she ventured to ask, her voice barely above a whisper.

Joker glanced back at her, a wicked grin spreading across his lips. "Somewhere nice, my dear Bunny," he replied cryptically, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

Y/n's heart fluttered nervously at his words, unsure of what awaited them at their destination. But she followed him nonetheless. Stopping at a weathered, rust-covered door, Joker pushed it open with a creak. The vibrant lights and pulsating music of a nightclub flooded out, momentarily overwhelming Y/n's senses. Her heart raced as Joker led her inside, the thumping bass reverberating through her chest.

"Cool it, Doll. It's just us," he reassured her, his voice cutting through the cacophony of sound.

As they entered the room, Y/n found herself surrounded by flashing lights and the rhythmic beat of the music with no people. It wasn't a typical nightclub setting, but rather a smaller, more intimate space adjacent to the main dance floor.

Her heart swelled with gratitude as she realized Joker's thoughtfulness. Despite his chaotic nature, he had arranged for a private space just for the two of them, understanding her anxieties and his own need for discretion.

"Dance with me," Joker declared, his eyes alight with mischief as he extended his hand to her.

As the music filled the room, Joker pulled Y/n close, his hand firm on her waist as they swayed to the beat. Y/n's heart raced with excitement and gratitude. Despite the chaos and danger that seemed to follow Joker wherever he went, moments like these made her feel that he was really worth it.

With each step and turn, Y/n couldn't help but smile, feeling a sense of belonging in Joker's arms. She was grateful for this moment of peace amidst the turmoil of their unconventional relationship. The music seemed to drown out the world outside, leaving only the two of them in their own little sanctuary.

As they danced, Y/n gazed up at Joker, feeling a surge of affection for the enigmatic man who had captured her heart. In his embrace, she felt safe and loved, despite the uncertainties that lay ahead. She silently thanked whatever fate had brought them together, cherishing this fleeting moment of happiness.

Lost in the rhythm of the music, Y/n couldn't help but revel in the experience, feeling the pulsating beat course through her veins. 

"I've never been to a nightclub before," Y/n admitted, her voice barely audible over the music.

Joker chuckled, the sound low and rich. "Well, you picked the right one for your first time, Bunny," he replied, twirling her around the room.

Y/n laughed, the sound mixing with the music as she allowed herself to be swept away by the moment. It didn't matter where they were or what dangers lurked outside, all that mattered was the warmth of Joker's embrace and the joy of being together.

Joker leaned in close to Y/n's ear, his breath warm against her skin. "Care for a drink, Bunny?" he whispered, his voice barely audible over the music.

Y/n nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. "Sure," she replied.

With a mischievous glint in his eye, Joker made his way over to the mini bar tucked away in the corner of the room. Expertly, he mixed together a concoction of spirits, his hands moving with practiced ease. After a few moments, he returned to Y/n's side, holding out a glass filled with the vibrant liquid.

"Here you go, my dear," Joker said, offering her the drink with a smirk. "Drink up." “What is it?” Y/n asked, taking a sip. 

"It's a little something I like to call 'Joker's Special'," he replied with a playful wink, watching intently as she took a sip. "Don't worry, Bunny, it's guaranteed to put a smile on your face."

Placing her cup down, Y/n hesitated for a moment, unsure of how Joker would react to her question. But she couldn't shake off her curiosity, and the need for clarity outweighed her apprehension.

"Hey umm… J?" Y/n started, using the new nickname she had given him, hoping to catch his attention.

Joker turned towards her, his piercing gaze fixed on her. "Yes, Doll?" he replied, his voice tinged with curiosity.

"...How did you know about Max... the first time I mean..." Y/n asked, her voice slightly faltering with uncertainty.

Joker's expression hardened, a flicker of annoyance flashing in his eyes. "What's it to you?" he retorted, his tone sharp and defensive.

"I-I was just curious, that's all," Y/n answered nervously, feeling a sense of unease creeping over her.

Y/n swallowed nervously, sensing the tension in the air. She could tell that Joker was growing increasingly irritated by her questions, but she couldn't let it go.

"It's just... I don't understand how you knew about him," Y/n continued tentatively, trying to tread carefully. "I mean, you're always so... aware of things."

Joker's expression softened slightly at her explanation, but the intensity in his eyes remained. He stepped closer to her, his presence looming over her.

"I have my ways, Doll," he replied, his voice low and measured. "Let's just say I keep tabs on what's important to me."

Y/n's unease deepened at his vague response, but a surge of conflicting emotions washed over her as Joker's words sank in. Despite the cryptic nature of his explanation, the acknowledgment that she was important to him stirred something within her.

Her heart fluttered at the realization, a mix of apprehension and a strange sense of validation coursing through her veins. Despite the uncertainty surrounding their relationship and Joker's unpredictable character, there was a strange comfort in knowing that she held significance in his eyes.

Suppressing the urge to dwell further on the implications of his words, Y/n forced a small smile, grateful for the fleeting moment of assurance amidst the mystery that shrouded their connection. She knew better than to dwell on the problems of their dynamic, choosing instead to embrace the fleeting sense of importance that Joker's acknowledgment bestowed upon her.

As the music continued to pulse through the room, Joker extended his hand toward Y/n, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Come on, Bunny, let's dance," he urged, his voice a playful whisper.

Y/n hesitated for a moment, her mind still grappling with the weight of their conversation. But with a deep breath, she pushed aside her lingering doubts and placed her hand in his, allowing him to pull her into the center of the room.

Their bodies moved in sync with the rhythm of the music, the space between them filled with an electrifying tension. Y/n found herself getting lost in the moment, the worries and uncertainties of the outside world fading away as she surrendered to the intoxicating allure of the dance.

With each twirl and sway, Y/n felt herself drawn closer to Joker, the magnetic pull between them growing stronger with each passing beat. And in that fleeting moment, amidst the pulsating lights and the thumping bass of the music, she allowed herself to forget about everything else and simply revel in the exhilarating freedom of the dance.

-

Y/n was practically bouncing in her seat with excitement as she took the driver's seat of her new car. Y/n was still at that age where driving was fun, but it had been quite some time since she last had the opportunity. Since moving away from her parents, she had relied on walking and public transportation to get around, so the prospect of hitting the road again filled her with giddy anticipation.

As Y/n navigated through the city streets, Joker sat beside her in the passenger seat, his presence filling the car with a playful energy. With every turn of the wheel, his gaze would occasionally drift toward her, his eyes lingering on her profile with a mix of amusement and something else she couldn't quite decipher.

Subtly, Joker's hand found its way to the space between their seats, his fingers grazing against Y/n's arm, clearly on purpose. Each touch sent a shiver down her spine, igniting a tingling sensation that danced along her skin. Despite the thrill of driving her new car, Y/n couldn't help but be acutely aware of Joker's proximity, his touch stirring up a whirlwind of emotions within her.

As they drove through the city, the night air filled with the buzz of activity, Y/n stole glances at Joker whenever she could. She couldn't help but notice the way his eyes sparkled with mischief, contrasting with the seriousness of his painted grin.

"Enjoying the drive, Bunny?" Joker's voice interrupted her thoughts, his tone light but carrying a hint of something deeper.

Y/n nodded, unable to suppress the smile that tugged at her lips. "Yeah, it's amazing. Thank you for letting me drive."

Joker chuckled, leaning back in his seat. "It’s yours, Doll. No need to thank me. And I want you to be careful, I don’t want my little Bunny getting hurt."

Y/n playfully rolled her eyes. "I'll do my best," she replied, her fingers tightening on the steering wheel as they continued on their journey.

Arriving back at the university dorms, Y/n drove to the parking lot tucked away behind the building. The area was quiet, illuminated only by the soft glow of streetlights, casting long shadows across the pavement.

Cutting the engine, Y/n turned to Joker with a hopeful smile. "Would you like to come in? Stay for a while?"

Joker's grin widened, his eyes alight with mischief. "I'd be delighted," he replied.

Exiting the car, they made their way toward the entrance of the dormitory. Each step echoed in the quiet night, the cool breeze brushing against their skin.

Inside, the dormitory buzzed with activity, the sound of music and chatter drifting through the halls. Y/n led Joker down the familiar corridor, the fluorescent lights casting a dim glow as they walked.

Arriving at her room, Y/n unlocked the door and ushered Joker inside. With a flick of the light switch, the room was bathed in a warm, comforting glow. Joker wasted no time in shedding his coat, tossing it carelessly onto the desk chair before flopping onto the bed, his shoes still firmly planted on his feet.

Y/n rolled her eyes playfully at his disregard for her tidiness. "You know how I feel about shoes on the bed," she chided, reaching over to unlace them.

Once his shoes were off, Y/n retrieved a fresh set of pyjamas from her wardrobe. "Close your eyes, please," she asked, slipping out of her own shoes before changing her clothes.

Joker feigned a pout. "But Bunny, I don't want to miss a moment of your beauty," he protested, his eyes twinkling mischievously.

Y/n rolled her eyes, trying to hide a smile. "You've seen enough of my beauty for one night. Close your eyes," she insisted again, trying to sound stern.

Joker sighed dramatically but complied, shutting his eyes with an exaggerated sigh. "Fine, but only because you asked so nicely," he teased, flashing her a grin before obediently closing his eyes.

After changing, Y/n turned to find Joker still lounging on her bed, his eyes closed as she had instructed.

"You can open your eyes now," she said, approaching him with a smile.

Joker opened his eyes, grinning at her. "Looking as lovely as ever, Bunny," he remarked, sitting up on the bed.

Y/n felt a warmth spread through her chest at his compliment. "Thank you," she replied, feeling a sense of contentment wash over her.

Joker patted the space next to him on the bed. "Come here, Bunny. Let's just relax for a bit," he suggested, his tone surprisingly soft.

Y/n joined him on the bed, snuggling into his side as they both settled in. As she leaned against him, Y/n stole a glance at Joker. His faded green hair was unkempt, yet somehow it suited him perfectly. She longed to run her fingers through it, but the memory of the grease that always seemed to coat it made her hesitate. Instead, she admired his features, even beneath the layers of makeup that concealed so much of his true self.

Her gaze lingered on his face, taking in the harsh lines of his scars accentuated by the red makeup. She knew from touching them that they were surprisingly soft, a contradiction to their intimidating appearance. And she couldn't help but wish she could see him without the makeup, to truly witness the man behind the facade.

She longed to kiss him without getting greasy red residue on her face, and to caress his cheek without leaving white handprints everywhere afterwards. Y/n yearned to see the face of the man who brought her unparalleled joy.

Joker peered down at her, his gaze magnetic. "Am I just that dashing, you can't take your eyes off me?" he quipped.

Y/n smirked. "I don't know, it's hard to tell with all that makeup," she retorted, her tone light but tinged with playful teasing. She knew she was pushing boundaries, but she couldn't resist.

Joker chuckled, a mischievous glint dancing in his eyes. "Ah, so my Bunny wants to see the man behind the mask, hmm?" he mused, leaning in closer to her.

Y/n felt her heartbeat quicken at his proximity, a mixture of excitement and nervousness coursing through her veins. "Of course I do," she replied coyly, unable to tear her gaze away from his captivating green eyes.

"But the makeup is what adds to the mystique," Joker countered.

"What if I don't want mystique? What if I don't want the Joker... What if I want J?" Y/n questioned, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

"What makes you think you can handle J?" he added with a smirk.

Y/n groaned and rolled her eyes. "Ugh! You're so frustrating," she said, turning away from him on the small bed.

"Now, is that any way to treat the man who just bought you a car?" Joker playfully put his hand on his hip.

"Stole! You stole me a car," Y/n retorted.

"How do you know I didn’t buy it?" Joker teased.

"You dropped a few thousand bucks in cash in my hands during a bank heist, and you really want me to believe you paid for this car with honest cash?" Y/n countered.

"Just because the cash wasn’t honest, doesn’t mean I didn’t buy it," Joker continued, pressing a sloppy kiss on her cheek.

Y/n couldn't help but laugh at Joker's playful antics, despite the tension that lingered between them moments ago. His unpredictable nature always kept her on her toes, but she found herself drawn to it nonetheless.

"Alright, alright," she said, her laughter subsiding. "Regardless of how you got the car, I appreciate it."

Joker grinned, his eyes twinkling mischievously. "That's my Bunny," he said, pulling her closer into a tight embrace. "Always appreciating my efforts, no matter how... unconventional they may be."

As they lay together, wrapped in each other's arms, Y/n smiled. Even though their conversation didn't go exactly as she had hoped, Joker still managed to put a smile on her face.

-

The next day, Y/n found herself walking with a newfound lightness in her step. The previous night had left her feeling great, the joy of their time together momentarily overshadowing her usual anxieties. Moreover, she appreciated the gesture from J, who had woken her up to say goodbye before leaving, a departure from his usual habit of slipping away silently while she slept. It seemed their relationship was evolving in a direction she welcomed.

Entering the lecture hall, Y/n descended the steps with a sense of anticipation. However, her momentum halted as a familiar voice called out her name.

“Hey, Y/n!” It was Max.

His friendly demeanor and wave caught her attention, and as she turned towards him, he motioned for her to join him. An internal conflict brewed within her as she hesitated. While Max had been nothing but kind, the warnings from Joker lingered in her mind like a shadow.

Nevertheless, she couldn't bear the thought of disregarding Max's invitation, especially after his gesture of friendliness. So, with a tight smile, Y/n made her way over to sit beside him.

“Hey, Max,” she greeted, trying to mask her unease.

“Did you have a good night?” Max inquired, his tone filled with genuine curiosity.

“Yeah, it was fun,” Y/n replied vaguely, opting not to divulge any specifics.

As the lecture began, Y/n tried to focus on the material, but her mind kept drifting. She couldn't shake off the feeling of being stuck. From the second Y/n had met Max, Joker was on her back about it, but she found it impossible to avoid him.

Throughout the class, Max occasionally leaned over to share a comment or joke, and Y/n found herself smiling in response, grateful for the distraction. Yet, each interaction with Max reminded her of the complicated web of secrets she was entangled in.

After the lecture ended, Max turned to Y/n with a friendly grin. "Hey, do you want to grab a drink or something? The cafe near the hub has this new drink I want to try out."

Y/n hesitated, torn between her desire to maintain a semblance of normalcy and the weight of her unconventional relationship with Joker. She glanced at her phone, noticing a text on her phone from an unknown id. Assuming it was just a spam message, Y/n ignored it, looking back up at Max.

"Yeah, sure," Y/n replied with a faint smile.

Exiting the lecture hall, Y/n and Max strolled down the corridor side by side, their footsteps echoing against the carpeted floor. As they reached the cafe, they paused in front of the wall menu, scanning the array of options before them.

After a brief moment of contemplation, Max turned to Y/n with a grin. "What do you feel like having today?"

Y/n shrugged, scanning the menu once more. "I'm not sure, maybe just a smoothie."

"Sounds good to me," Max nodded, stepping aside to let Y/n order first.

As Y/n stepped up to the counter to place her order, she felt a pang of guilt in her chest. Despite her resolve to avoid getting too close to Max, she couldn't help but appreciate his kindness. Yet, she couldn't shake off the feeling of unease, knowing Joker's disapproval lingered in the back of her mind.

After ordering her smoothie, Y/n stepped aside to let Max place his order. Their drinks were quickly made. With their drinks in hand, Y/n and Max found a table by the window, the warm sunlight streaming in, casting a gentle glow over their conversation. Max seemed genuinely interested in getting to know her better, asking about her hobbies, interests, and aspirations. Y/n found herself opening up more than she had expected, drawn in by his genuine curiosity and friendly demeanour.

As they chatted, Y/n couldn't shake off the feeling of being watched. Glancing around the cafe, her heart skipped a beat when she spotted a familiar figure standing across the street, obscured in the shadows. With a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, Y/n recognized Joker immediately, his green locks standing out like a beacon in the crowd, even under a hoodie. 

It was as if her heart stopped as she saw Joker's unmasked face. Gone were the layers of black white and red paint that usually concealed his identity, revealing features that were both haunting and strangely attractive. His eyes, once obscured by dark makeup, now bore into hers with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine. The scars that marred his face were stark against his pale skin, a testament to the trials he had endured. Yet, there was an unexpected softness to his expression, a vulnerability that lay hidden beneath the facade of menace. In that moment, Y/n realized that the man before her was not just the Joker, but someone infinitely more complex.

His glare, though obscured from this distance, seemed to taunt her from afar, filling her with a sense of dread that crept up her spine like icy fingers. 

The mere sight of him sent a chill through her, as if his gaze could pierce through the glass and lock onto her own. Despite her attempts to focus on the conversation with Max, her mind kept returning to the ominous figure she had glimpsed, his presence casting a pall over the otherwise mundane surroundings of the cafe.

Y/n's breath caught in her throat as she spotted Joker, her heart hammering against her ribs. Panic surged through her veins, the last thing she wanted was for Max to become entangled in the chaotic mess that was her life with Joker, especially after the continuous warnings he had given her.

"Um, Max," Y/n interrupted, her voice trembling slightly. "I think we should go. Now."

Max turned to follow her gaze, but by the time his eyes scanned outside, Joker had vanished into the university campus. Y/n's unease lingered like a heavy fog, her mind racing with the implications of Joker's sudden appearance.

"Is everything okay?" Max asked, concerned about etching his features.

Y/n forced a smile, but her nerves were on edge. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Just... let's head to the hub, okay?"

Despite Max's protests, Y/n couldn't shake the feeling of dread that clung to her like a second skin. As they made their way back to the safety of the university grounds, her mind raced with the unanswered questions and the unsettling presence of the man she couldn't seem to escape.

And then her phone suddenly rang. The weight of the phone in her hand felt heavier than usual, each vibration a tangible reminder of the uncertainty that plagued her mind. Y/n's fingers trembled as she gingerly pulled her phone from her pocket, her heart pounding against her chest like a drumbeat of foreboding. The familiar sensation of dread washed over her as she stared at the screen, the words "Unknown Caller" glaring back at her like a sinister omen.

Max glanced back at her. "You need to get that?" he asked, his voice filled with understanding.

Y/n hesitated for a moment, her mind racing with conflicting thoughts, before nodding. "U-uh, yeah. Sorry, just a second," she replied, stepping aside to answer the call.

The bustling sounds of the university corridor seemed to fade into the background as she grappled with the decision to answer the call. Her mind raced with a flurry of anxious thoughts, each one a relentless echo of her fears. She knew exactly who it was, there was no denying it. With a shaky inhale, she finally mustered the courage to swipe her thumb across the screen, accepting the call with a trembling hand.

The ringing ceased, replaced by an eerie silence that seemed to stretch on for an eternity. Every second felt like an eternity as she waited for the voice on the other end to break the stillness, her pulse pounding in her ears like a relentless drumbeat of apprehension.

Her breath caught in her throat as she brought the phone to her ear, steeling herself for whatever awaited her on the other end. "Hello?"

"Go back to your dorm, now," came the chilling voice on the line, sending shivers down her spine.

Y/n's hands began to tremble, her voice faltering as she tried to reason with him. "J, come on... you can't be-"

"You're going to go home now before I make a scene in front of your precious boy toy," Joker interrupted, his tone laced with a dangerous edge.

Desperation welled up inside her as she pleaded with him. "J, you know it's not like that!"

"Do you really want to test me?" Joker's voice dripped with menace, sending a cold chill down her spine.

Y/n's heart plummeted like a stone sinking into the depths of a river as the call abruptly ended, leaving her with a gnawing sense of unease. Yet, all she was met with was the stark emptiness of the phone's display, a silent testament to the uncertainty that loomed over her.

Slowly, she looked away from the device, the weight of it feeling heavier in her trembling hands. With a heavy sigh, she tucked it back into her pocket, though the sense of dreed it had evoked lingered like a shadow cast across her thoughts.

Forcing herself to push aside the lingering unease, Y/n plastered a strained smile onto her lips as she rejoined Max. Despite her efforts to appear composed, the facade felt brittle and fragile, threatening to crumble with each passing moment. Yet, she knew she couldn't let her anxiety show, not when Max was standing beside her, oblivious to the turmoil churning within her.

With a deliberate effort, Y/n willed herself to focus on the present, pushing aside the unsettling encounter with Joker and the mysterious phone call that followed. But deep down, she couldn't shake the nagging sense of dread that had taken root in the depths of her being, casting a pall over even the simplest of interactions.

"Hey, sorry, Max. I need to get going," she said, her voice strained with apprehension.

Max nodded understandingly, though concern flickered in his eyes. "That's all good."

"Thanks for hanging out with me...bye," Y/n forced the words out, her heart heavy with worry.

"See ya," Max replied, offering a small smile before turning and walking away, leaving Y/n to grapple with the uncertain future that lay ahead.

With each step back to her dorm, Y/n felt as though she was wading through a thick fog of dread, her every movement weighed down by the oppressive atmosphere of uncertainty and fear. The dimly lit corridor seemed to stretch endlessly before her, its shadowy corners harbouring unseen threats that lurked just beyond her line of sight.

As she approached the worn wooden door of her dormitory, her heart pounded against her chest like a relentless drumbeat, the sound reverberating in her ears and drowning out all other noise. Each click of the key turning in the lock echoed through the stillness of the hallway, a stark reminder of her vulnerability in the face of the unknown.

A sense of foreboding washed over her as she reached for the doorknob, her fingers trembling with a mixture of hesitation and dread. The air around her seemed to crackle with tension, electrified by the presence that loomed ominously close behind her.

And then, as if from the depths of her darkest nightmares, his voice sliced through the silence like a knife, sending a chill down her spine and freezing her in place.

"Open the door, Doll," his words slithered into her ear like tendrils of cold, his breath ghosting over her skin with an icy touch that sent shivers cascading down her spine.

Her hands trembled as she fumbled with the key, her breath coming in shallow gasps. With a shaky twist, she finally managed to unlock the door, pushing it open with a creak. The room lay before her, the atmosphere suddenly growing cold.

It was Joker the closed the door. Joker's arm encircled her waist, his touch sending shivers down her spine. With a gentle yet firm grip, he guided her to face him, but she refused to look at him.

"Look at me, Bunny," he urged, his voice a low murmur that sent a chill through her bones.

Y/n hesitated, her eyes flickering with fear and uncertainty. "I-I don't want to," she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Why not? Don't you want to see the face of your beloved J?" Joker's tone was taunting, his lips curling into a twisted grin.

"It's not that... I just... I want to see you when you're not angry with me," Y/n admitted, her voice laced with a mixture of fear and longing.

Joker's grip tightened slightly, his other hand lifting to caress her cheek, his touch surprisingly gentle. "And why do you think I'm angry with you, hmm?" he questioned, his voice soft yet tinged with an underlying edge of menace.

Y/n's words faltered as Joker's arm enveloped her, pulling her closer against his chest. She dared not utter another word as his presence loomed over her, enveloping her in a mixture of fear and desire.

Joker's lips brushed against her ear in a rough yet possessive kiss, sending a shiver down her spine. "Talk," he commanded, his voice a low growl that reverberated through her bones.

"I'm sorry, J. Please, Max, he's just a friend. You know that," Y/n pleaded, her voice trembling with fear.

"You're mine, Bunny. That means you belong to me and no one else," Joker asserted, his grip tightening on the necklace around her neck as he held it up for emphasis. "You see this? This J? That mean’s you’re mine." he growled, his voice laced with possessiveness.

"I-I'm allowed to have friends," Y/n insisted, her voice quivering with defiance.

"Why would you need anyone else when you have me?" Joker demanded, his tone laced with jealousy and anger.

"You're hardly ever around," Y/n shot back, her words tinged with frustration.

Joker's presence darkened at her retort, his breathing becoming labored with suppressed rage. "If it were up to me, you'd be tied up in my hideout, where only I can see you, where only I can know you," he spat, his words dripping with possessive intensity.

Y/n's heart raced as Joker's words hung heavy in the air, filling the room with tension. She could feel his grip on her tightening, his presence overwhelming her senses.

"Please, J, you're scaring me," Y/n whispered, her voice barely audible above the pounding of her own heart.

Joker's expression softened slightly at her plea, but the possessive gleam in his eyes remained. "You should be scared, Bunny," he murmured, his voice a dangerous whisper. "You belong to me, and I won't accept anyone trying to take you away from me."

Y/n's breath caught in her throat and her eyes already pouring with tears as she struggled to find the right words to calm him down. She knew that Joker's jealousy was irrational, but she also knew that trying to reason with him in this state would only make things worse.

"I understand, J. I belong to you," she said softly, her voice trembling with uncertainty. "I won't let anyone come between us."

Joker's grip on her loosened slightly at her words, and he pulled her into a tight embrace. "That's my good girl," he murmured, pressing a possessive kiss to her neck.

Y/n turned around, but still didn’t look at his face. As Y/n buried her face in his chest, she couldn't shake the feeling of unease that lingered in the air. She knew that her relationship with Joker was anything but ordinary, but she also knew that she couldn't bear to be without him, no matter how possessive and volatile he could be.

-

Joker had left shortly after their tense encounter, claiming he had "work to do." Y/n remained in her bed, the weight of their conversation heavy on her mind. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she grappled with the conflicting emotions churning inside her. 

Each word exchanged with Joker echoed in her mind, replaying like a haunting melody that refused to fade. The conflicting emotions churned within her like a tempest, pulling her in opposite directions with relentless force. Fear and uncertainty clawed at her heart, gnawing away at her resolve and leaving her feeling utterly drained. Despite the familiarity of these emotions, their intensity seemed to suffocate her, drowning her in a sea of doubt and apprehension.

After spending most of the day in bed, Y/n finally mustered the strength to get up. She knew she needed something to lift her spirits, even if just for a moment. With her stash of snacks depleted, a trip to the dairy for a drink or a treat seemed like the only option to get through the night.

Grabbing her wallet, Y/n ventured out into the dimly lit streets of Gotham. Despite the familiar unease that settled over her, she pressed on, her determination to escape her own thoughts overshadowing any fear of the dangers lurking in the shadows.

As Y/n walked down the dimly lit streets of Gotham, her senses heightened by the eerie silence of the night, she heard the unmistakable sound of someone struggling around the corner. Curiosity mingled with apprehension as she hesitated, uncertain whether to investigate or flee from potential danger.

With a heavy heart and trembling hands, she cautiously approached the corner, the rhythmic thuds of her heart echoing in her ears. Peering around the edge, her breath caught in her throat as she beheld a scene that froze her in terror.

Down the dimly lit street, illuminated by the faint glow of flickering streetlights, she saw Joker, his menacing silhouette towering over a figure writhing on the ground. Anguished cries pierced the silence, sending shivers down her spine as she watched in horror.

Just as she watched Joker lift his leg, poised to deliver a brutal blow, Y/n's scream pierced the night air like a gunshot. "J, No!" she yelled, her voice cracking with desperation.

Joker froze mid-motion, his eyes locking onto Y/n with a mixture of amusement and annoyance. "Uhh, Doll... Don't you have comedic timing, come to watch, have you?" he quipped, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

Heart pounding in her chest, Y/n approached cautiously, her gaze fixated on the figure lying defenseless at Joker's feet. As she drew closer, the dim light revealed the familiar features of Max, battered and bruised, his face contorted in pain.

"Max!" Y/n cried out, her voice trembling with anguish as she attempted to rush to his aid. But before she could reach him, Joker's vice-like grip on her arm yanked her back with a forceful tug, halting her in her tracks.

Max lay on the ground, gasping for air as blood trickled down his battered face. Y/n's heart clenched at the sight of him, his once lively eyes now dull with pain. "J! Why?" she pleaded, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Joker shrugged indifferently, a smirk playing on his lips. "Had to send a message somehow, Doll," he replied casually, as if discussing the weather.

Y/n's sobs grew louder, her voice choked with anguish. "P-please... Please don’t kill him," she begged, her desperation palpable.

Joker tilted his head, considering her plea with feigned interest. "Hmm, now why would I listen to you? You didn’t listen to me," he taunted, his tone dripping with malice.

Panic surged through Y/n as she fell to her knees, grasping desperately at Joker's arm. "I’m sorry, you were right, I should have listened. Please just leave him alone. Come back to my dorm with me, please!" she pleaded, her words a desperate plea for mercy.

Joker's gaze softened slightly at Y/n's tearful plea, but his resolve remained firm. With a sigh, he released Y/n's grip and took a step back, gesturing to Max with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"Consider yourself lucky this time, Bunny," he said, his voice laced with a warning. "But don't forget this little token of generosity."

Joker's footsteps echoed loudly against the silent streets as he dragged Y/n alongside him, his presence looming over her like a shadow. Y/n cast a worried glance back at Max's bloody form on the concrete, her heart heavy with guilt and fear.

"Is he going to be okay?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Joker shrugged nonchalantly, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "Doesn’t matter," he replied, his tone sending a chill down Y/n's spine.

Y/n's stomach churned with unease as they continued their journey back to her dorm, the weight of Joker's words hanging heavy in the air. She couldn't shake the feeling of dread that gripped her, knowing that she had once again crossed a line she couldn't uncross.

As they approached her dormitory, Y/n's heart raced with apprehension. She knew Joker's presence would only bring more chaos into her already turbulent life, yet she couldn't deny the strange allure he held over her.

With a heavy sigh, Y/n unlocked the door and stepped inside, feeling Joker's presence loom behind her. She glanced back at him, her eyes pleading silently for him to leave, but he remained unfazed, his gaze fixed on her with an intensity that made her shiver.

"Come on, Bunny, let's have a little chat," Joker said, his voice dripping with a mixture of menace and amusement.

Y/n's stomach churned with dread as she led Joker into her dimly lit room, the weight of their unresolved tensions hanging thick in the air. She braced herself for whatever was to come, knowing that with Joker, nothing was ever as it seemed.

As they entered her room, Y/n couldn't shake off the feeling of unease that settled over her like a suffocating blanket. She stood by the door, her eyes darting nervously between Joker and the cramped space around them.

Joker strolled into the room with a casual swagger, his eyes glinting with mischief as he surveyed his surroundings. He seemed to take delight in the discomfort he caused, relishing in the tension that hung thick in the air.

"So, Bunny, let’s talk." Joker's voice was laced with a dangerous edge, his tone daring her to defy him.

Y/n swallowed hard, her mind racing as she searched for the right words to placate him. She knew she was treading on thin ice, and one wrong move could have dire consequences. But beneath the fear, there was a flicker of defiance burning within her, a stubborn refusal to bow down to his every whim.

"I-I just... I thought... Maybe... I have no friend’s J…" Y/n stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Joker's lips curled into a sinister grin, his eyes narrowing into menacing slits. "And that’s a problem?" he growled, his words dripping with venom.

Y/n's heart pounded in her chest as she struggled to maintain her composure in the face of Joker's relentless dominance. She knew she was trapped in his web, with no way out but to play by his rules. And as Joker advanced towards her with a predatory gleam in his eyes, she couldn't help but wonder how much longer she could endure this twisted game of cat and mouse.

Joker's presence loomed over her, casting a shadow that seemed to swallow her whole. He reached out, his fingers curling around her chin to tilt her face up to meet his gaze. 

"Bunny, why do you need friends when you have me?" His voice was honeyed, persuasive, but beneath the smooth exterior lurked a darkness that sent shivers down her spine.

"You're all I need, Y/n. Friends are nothing but distractions, pulling you away from what truly matters," Joker continued, his grip tightening ever so slightly.

Y/n's heart pounded in her chest as she struggled to resist the pull of his words. She knew deep down that he was wrong, that she needed human connection beyond the twisted confines of her relationship with Joker. But his persuasive words wormed their way into her mind, clouding her judgment and leaving her feeling utterly powerless.

"Besides, who needs friends when you have me to take care of you?" Joker's voice took on a seductive tone, his lips curling into a wicked smile.

Y/n's resolve wavered as she found herself drawn into his web of manipulation. She wanted to believe that she could break free from his control, but with each passing moment, it seemed that Joker's hold over her grew stronger. And as he leaned in closer, his breath hot against her ear, she couldn't help but wonder if she would ever find a way out of this twisted dance with the devil.

As Joker's words sank in, Y/n felt a surge of conflicting emotions coursing through her. Part of her wanted to push him away, to break free from his manipulative grasp and reclaim control over her own life. But another part of her, the part that had grown accustomed to his presence and the twisted comfort he offered, hesitated.

"I... I guess you're right," Y/n murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

A satisfied smirk tugged at the corners of Joker's lips as he leaned back, releasing his hold on her chin. "Of course, I am, Bunny. I always know what's best for you," he purred, his tone dripping with arrogance.

Y/n forced a weak smile, the weight of her decision settling heavily on her shoulders. She knew deep down that she was sacrificing her own happiness for the sake of appeasing Joker, but the fear of his wrath and the allure of his promises were too potent to resist.

"Thank you, J," Y/n said softly, her voice tinged with resignation.

Joker's grin widened, a predatory gleam flickering in his eyes. "Anytime, Bunny. Remember, you're mine, and I'll always take care of you," he whispered, his words wrapping around her like tendrils of smoke.

As Y/n nestled into Joker's embrace on her bed, she couldn't shake the heaviness that settled over her. Despite being in Joker's arms, a sense of unease gnawed at her insides, casting a shadow over the supposed comfort of their closeness. Yet, she clung to him, desperately seeking reassurance that his presence alone could provide. After all, if she had Joker by her side, everything had to be alright...right?

-

A/N: Sorry it took so long for this part two to come out but I am so happy to have finished it! I've had it on my mind for AGES but I've had three assignments to get done and then three tests to study for so I thought it would be best to focus on uni first before writing anything and I am SO glad to have gotten them out of the way :P I really liked writing this part because I got to make Joker a bit of a dick. I hope you all enjoyed it and thank you again @chaos-4baby for requesting a part two, I cannot explain how much it means to me, like fr. You are amazing and the queen of Joker fics (Joker's Queen) and thank you to everyone else who did as well, love you all 💚

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Brian Barrett at Wired (02.27.2025):

If you’ve felt overwhelmed by all the DOGE news, you’re not alone. You’d need too much cork board and yarn to keep track of which agencies it has occupied by now, much less what it’s doing there. Here’s a simple rubric, though, to help contextualize the DOGE updates you do have time and energy to process: It’s worse than you think. DOGE is hard to keep track of. This is by design; the only information about the group outside of its own mistake-ridden ledger of “savings” comes from media reports. So much for being “maximally transparent,” as Elon Musk has promised. The blurriness is also partly a function of the speed and breadth with which DOGE has operated. Keeping track of the destruction is like counting individual bricks scattered around a demolition site.

You may be aware, for instance, that a 19-year-old who goes by “Big Balls” online plays some role in all this. Seems bad. But you may have missed that Edward Coristine has since been installed at the nation’s top cybersecurity agency. And the State Department and the Small Business Administration. And he has a Department of Homeland Security email address and, by the way, also had a recent side gig selling AI Discord bots to Russians. See? Worse than you think. [...] Similarly, you’ve likely heard that the United States Agency for International Development has been gutted and the Consumer Financial Protection Bureau has been put on ice. All true, all bad. But here’s what that means in practice: Fewer people globally have access to vaccines than they did a month ago. More babies are being born with HIV/AIDS. From here on out, anyone who gets ripped off by payday loan companies—or, say, social media platforms moonlighting as payments services—has lost their most capable defender. Keep going. The thousands of so-called probationary employees DOGE has fired included a significant number of experienced workers who had just been promoted or transferred. National Science Foundation staffing cuts and proposed National Institutes of Health grant limits will combine to kneecap scientific research in the United States for a generation. Terminations at the US Department of Agriculture have sent programs designed to help farmers into disarray. On Wednesday, the Food and Drug Administration canceled a meeting that would have given guidance on this year’s flu vaccine composition. It hasn’t been rescheduled.

Don’t care about science or vaccines? The Social Security Administration is reportedly going to cut its staff in half. The Department of Housing and Urban Development is going to be cut by as much as 84 percent. Hundreds of workers who keep the power grid humming in the Pacific Northwest were fired before a scramble to rehire a few of them. The National Parks Service, the Internal Revenue Service, all hit hard. So don’t make any long-term bets on getting your checks on time, keeping your lights on, buying a home for the first time, or enjoying Yosemite. Don’t assume all the things that work now will still work tomorrow.

Speaking of which, let’s not forget that DOGE has fired people working to prevent bird flu and to safeguard the US nuclear arsenal. (The problem with throwing a chainsaw around is that you don’t make clean cuts.) The agencies in question have reportedly tried to hire those workers back. Fine. But even if they’re able to, the long-term question that hasn’t been answered yet is, Who would stay? Who would work under a regime so cocksure and incompetent that it would mistakenly fire the only handful of people who actually know how to take care of the nukes? According to a recent report from The Bulwark, that brain drain is already underway. And this is all before the real reductions in force begin, mass purges of civil servants that will soon be conducted, it seems, with an assist from DOGE-modified, automated software. The US government is about to lose decades of institutional knowledge across who knows how many agencies, including specialists that aren’t readily replaced by loyalists.

Wired has a solid article on how bad the DOGE-ificiation of government has gotten.

[pixelplayground]

SHOPPE THE LOOK — Kitchen Essentials

tumblr eats resolution for breakfast — click the image for HQ ♡

❤ recipe book by @eniosta (simfileshare)

❤ flowers by @sundays-sims (patreon-public)

❤ functional stanley cup by ledger atelier (patreon-public)

❤ pot, rolling pin, salt & pepper shakers by bambi (Patreon-paywalled)

** remember, anything perma-paywalled or paywalled for an excessive amount of time can be found via a google or reddit search on how to source paywalled sims cc — it's advised not to link these files direct on tumblr blogs because of DCMA takedown requests **

[novaursa]

The Second Daughter (going back)

- Summary: You were born as a second daughter under the watchful eye of a full moon. And just like the moon you were beautiful—and cursed to exist only in the dark.

- Pairing: targ!reader/Jason Lannister

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: three years

- Next part: not forgotten

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @oxymakestheworldgoround @l3thal-l0lita @alkadri-layal @ninihrtss @barnes70stark

The council chamber of Casterly Rock was thick with the scent of wax and parchment, the air heavy with the weight of decisions yet to be made. The long wooden table was cluttered with ledgers and open scrolls, reports of trade, coin shipments, and military movements. Jason Lannister sat at the head of the table, his fingers tapping idly against the polished surface as he listened to his advisors, his green eyes calculating.

Across from him, Maester Halford cleared his throat as he read from the most recent correspondence from King’s Landing. “The Crown acknowledges receipt of the two thousand gold dragons you sent, my lord. However, Lord Tyland writes that the Crown will require an additional sum before the year’s end to account for continued expenditures in the Stepstones, as well as… courtly necessities.”

Jason scoffed, leaning back in his chair. “Courtly necessities,” he echoed, his voice edged with dry amusement. “And what, pray tell, falls under that category?”

Halford hesitated, scanning the parchment again. “The Queen’s continued renovations of Maegor’s Holdfast, the Hand’s investments into city watch fortifications, and further embellishments to the royal apartments.”

Ser Alester Lannister let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “So we fund warships and finer tapestries. How reassuring.”

Jason exhaled through his nose, his patience wearing thin. He had known the Iron Throne would ask for more—it always did—but to see his House’s wealth squandered on unnecessary excess while being paraded as loyal contributions was beginning to wear on him.

“What of trade?” Jason asked, shifting his focus. “The last shipments from Lannisport—have they arrived in the capital without issue?”

Halford nodded. “Yes, my lord. The portmasters report smooth delivery of both goods and coin.”

Jason exhaled, drumming his fingers against the table. “Good. At least something functions as it should.”

Damon Lannister leaned forward, his expression thoughtful. “You know this will never end, Jason. The more gold we send, the more they will demand. The Iron Throne is a bottomless pit, and Viserys is too soft to deny his court their luxuries.”

Jason smirked faintly, but there was little humor in it. “I have no intention of feeding a beast that does not know when to stop eating.” He tapped a finger against the parchment. “If they wish for more gold, they will have to justify it.”

Halford frowned slightly. “And how do you propose they do that, my lord?”

Jason leaned forward, a slow, knowing smile curling his lips. “I will go to King’s Landing myself.”

A brief silence followed his declaration.

Damon raised a brow. “And why, exactly, would you subject yourself to that pit of vipers?”

Jason chuckled. “Because, dear uncle, it is one thing to send coin blindly across the realm and another to see what it is being spent on.” His smirk darkened slightly. “If the Iron Throne wishes to keep the Rock’s gold flowing, then let them answer for it.”

Alester grinned. “The court will not know what to do with itself.”

Halford hesitated, concern flickering across his aged features. “You are certain this is wise, my lord? A journey to King’s Landing, even for one such as yourself, carries… complications.”

Jason exhaled, but his decision was made. “I will not be gone long. I will take a small retinue and ride directly to the capital. A formal visit, nothing more.” He tilted his head slightly. “Let’s see if the Crown is as quick to ask for gold when the Lord of Casterly Rock stands before them and asks how it is being spent.”

Damon chuckled, shaking his head. “I almost pity them.”

Jason smirked, but his thoughts were already ahead, already considering the conversations that would take place in the Red Keep, the faces that would greet him.

His brother Tyland would be there, of course, and Viserys—his wife’s father, a man too sentimental to rule as he should. Then there was the Queen, Alicent Hightower, whose ambitions had only grown in the past years. He had no doubt she would look upon him with her usual composed wariness, ever calculating, ever watchful.

And then there was Rhaenyra.

Jason’s smirk faded slightly. She had given birth to another son now, just as whispers of her firstborn’s true parentage continued to swirl. He wondered if she would greet him as her sister’s husband, or as just another lord watching the inevitable storm that loomed over the succession.

And then, of course, there was Aegon.

Jason nearly sighed at the thought of the boy. He was twelve now, no longer the child who had pouted over his sister’s departure. Still, Jason did not doubt Aegon’s displeasure at his visit—or at his continued presence in his sister’s life.

Yes. There would be much to see in the capital.

Jason exhaled, pushing back from his chair. “Send word to Lannisport,” he ordered. “Prepare the men who will accompany me. I wish to leave before the week is out.”

Halford bowed his head. “As you command, my lord.”

As Jason dismissed his council and the men filed out, he lingered for a moment in the quiet chamber, gazing down at the map spread across the table. His fingers trailed over the depiction of King’s Landing, his green eyes dark with thought.

It had been three years since he had last stood in the Red Keep. Three years since his wife had left it behind, since she had made the Rock her home.

But now, he would return.

And Jason Lannister never made a journey without purpose.

The private chambers were bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, the warmth of the hearth spreading through the room as the evening deepened. The faint scent of lavender lingered in the air, mingling with the natural fragrance of the sea carried in by the wind that slipped through the high stone windows.

Jason Lannister stepped through the doorway, his green eyes immediately falling upon you where you sat beside the cradle, your delicate fingers tracing the fine embroidery of a small blanket.

Aemerys sat near your feet, playing with a carved wooden lion and a dragon figurine, his soft giggles filling the chamber. The twins were asleep, their tiny forms swaddled in silk, peaceful and unaware of the conversation about to unfold.

You tilted your head slightly as Jason approached, your lips curving into a knowing smile. "I know that step," you murmured. "You walk lighter when you come with news."

Jason smirked, reaching you in a few strides before lowering himself into the chair beside you. "You know me too well, wife."

You chuckled, your fingers still resting lightly against the cradle. "Tell me, then. What brings you to me with such purpose?"

Jason exhaled, reaching for your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. "We are going to King’s Landing."

The moment the words left his lips, he saw the shift in your expression. Surprise first, then something warmer—something almost radiant. Your lips parted slightly, and your fingers tightened around his.

"Truly?" you whispered.

Jason nodded. "It has been too long. And I would see where our coin has been spent. I will not let the Crown continue to drain our wealth without justification."

You let out a soft, breathless laugh, your expression brightening. "Then we will go home."

Jason’s smirk faltered slightly at your choice of words, though he did not correct you.

The Red Keep had been your home for most of your life. It had been the place where you were raised, where you had lived beside your father and your sister, where you had once walked the halls as a Targaryen princess before becoming Lady of the Rock.

But the Rock was your home now.

Even so, he did not begrudge you the longing in your voice, the undeniable joy that lit up your features.

"I have missed them," you admitted, squeezing his hand. "My father, my sister… I have not heard their voices in too long."

Jason exhaled, watching you carefully. "Viserys will be pleased to see you. You are his favorite, you know."

You smiled, shaking your head slightly. "That is not true."

Jason chuckled. "It is. He misses you more than you realize. I have no doubt he will shed tears the moment he sees you again."

Your fingers brushed over the cradle beside you, your voice quieter now. "And Rhaenyra… I want her to meet our daughters."

Jason softened at that, reaching up to tuck a loose strand of silver hair behind your ear. "She will."

You inhaled deeply, your lips curving into a small smile. "When do we leave?"

"Within the week," Jason replied. "I want to ensure everything is in order here before we set out."

You nodded, already seeming to envision it in your mind. "Aemerys will be excited," you mused. "He has heard stories of the Red Keep, but he does not remember it."

Jason glanced at his son, who was still playing with his carved figurines, entirely unaware of the conversation unfolding. "He will see it soon enough."

You exhaled, turning back toward Jason. "And you? How do you feel about returning?"

Jason considered the question for a moment before smirking. "I imagine some in the capital will not be pleased by my arrival."

You chuckled softly. "No, I imagine not."

Jason leaned in, his forehead resting gently against yours. "But it will be worth it. To see your father’s joy. To let you hear your sister’s voice again. And to remind them all that the lions of the Rock do not forget where their gold flows."

You tilted your chin, pressing a soft kiss to his lips before whispering, "Then let us go and remind them."

Jason smirked against your mouth. "With pleasure."

The days following the decision to travel to King’s Landing were filled with activity. The great halls of Casterly Rock bustled with movement as servants hurried about, packing chests, gathering supplies, and ensuring that every detail of the journey was accounted for. Horses were inspected, wagons were prepared, and Jason Lannister’s finest men were chosen to accompany their lord and lady to the capital.

In the castle's great solar, Maester Halford stood before a long wooden table cluttered with scrolls and wax-sealed parchments. Jason sat at the head, fingers tapping idly against the surface as he listened to the latest updates. His wife sat beside him, her delicate hands resting lightly on the embroidered fabric of her gown, her face serene but attentive as she listened.

"We will require at least a hundred men to accompany you," Halford stated, adjusting his chain as he read from his notes. "With the princess and the children traveling as well, security will need to be doubled. The roads to the capital are safe enough, but a Lannister never travels without protection."

Jason exhaled, nodding. "I will take two hundred." He glanced at Ser Alester Lannister, who stood near the hearth with arms crossed. "Ensure that only my best men are chosen. I want no mishaps on the road."

Alester smirked. "A hundred men would have been enough, but if you wish to remind the realm of the Rock’s might, who am I to argue?"

Jason shot him a dry look. "It is not about showing might, cousin. It is about ensuring my family’s safety."

Alester chuckled. "And yet, the sight of two hundred Lannister men marching into King’s Landing will not go unnoticed."

Jason smirked but said nothing.

Halford continued. "As for provisions, the journey should take no more than two weeks if the weather remains fair. Wagons carrying food, tents, and other necessities will be prepared. Your retainers will see to your household belongings. I have also ensured that a proper escort will be arranged for Princess Aemerys and the twins."

Jason exhaled, glancing at his wife. "Is there anything you wish to bring?"

You tilted your head slightly in thought. "Only what is necessary. I will not bring half the Rock with me."

Jason chuckled. "Good. I feared my mother would have our entire court packed and sent with us if she had her way."

You smiled. "She is excited, I think. To see us off. But more so to have Aemerys return home with stories of the capital."

Jason nodded. "He will remember it this time. I have no doubt he will be fascinated."

"Fascinated and spoiled," Damon Lannister, Jason’s uncle, muttered from his seat. He swirled his goblet of wine before taking a sip. "That boy will have the entire court wrapped around his little fingers before the month is out."

Jason smirked. "If he takes after his mother, I have no doubt of it."

You chuckled softly, reaching out to brush your fingers against Jason’s hand. "He will behave. And if he does not, I shall remind him that even little dragons must have manners."

Halford cleared his throat. "A raven has already been sent to King’s Landing to inform the King and Queen of your arrival. I suspect they will make arrangements to receive you at court."

Jason’s green eyes darkened slightly at the mention of the Queen. "Alicent will not be pleased."

You tilted your head. "Because of our visit?"

Jason smirked faintly. "Because of me. She is not fond of surprises, and my presence in the capital will be one."

Damon scoffed. "Let her fume. The Queen has grown far too accustomed to having her way in court. A reminder that she is not the only power in the realm will do her good."

You remained silent for a moment before murmuring, "And what of Aegon?"

Jason exhaled. He had no doubt that the boy would be less than pleased to see him. The lad had never hidden his distaste for the man who had taken his beloved sister from the capital, and Jason was well aware that Aegon’s jealousy had only grown over the years.

"He will sulk," Jason said simply. "But he will recover."

You smiled faintly. "He will be happy to see me, at least."

Jason chuckled. "Undoubtedly."

Halford shifted, adjusting another scroll. "Then all is set. You will leave at the end of the week, if the weather holds."

Jason nodded, standing. "Good. Ensure everything is ready."

The council dispersed, leaving Jason and his wife alone for a brief moment of quiet. He turned to you, studying your face as you sat calmly, hands folded in your lap.

"You are happy," he noted.

You smiled softly. "I am. It has been too long."

Jason reached out, cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin. "Do not let them overwhelm you," he murmured. "You are not the girl who left the Red Keep. You are Lady of Casterly Rock now."

You turned your face slightly toward his touch, exhaling softly. "I know. But for a short time, I would like to be a daughter again. And a sister."

Jason’s expression softened, and he leaned down, pressing a firm kiss to your forehead. "Then let us go and remind them of who you are."

And with that, the journey to King’s Landing began.

The Great Hall of the Red Keep was quieter than usual during the evening meal, though the long table was filled with the royal family and their closest kin. The heavy chandeliers above cast golden light across the polished surfaces of silver goblets and intricate dishes, the scent of roasted meats and spiced wine mingling with the warmth of the hearth. The air was thick with unspoken words, though conversation still flowed in careful tones, each person at the table weighed by their own thoughts.

King Viserys I Targaryen sat at the head of the table, his once-robust frame softened by age and illness, though his presence remained imposing. His fingers idly traced the rim of his goblet, his gaze distant as he listened to the quiet hum of voices around him. Queen Alicent sat at his side, her expression ever poised, her eyes flicking from one family member to another, ever observant.

At the far end of the table, Rhaenyra and Laenor Velaryon sat together, their body language more formal than warm. Though they made an effort to engage in polite conversation, there was no mistaking the tension that lay between them, a quiet reminder of the whispers that haunted court.

Beside them, Prince Aegon slouched slightly in his seat, swirling the contents of his cup with idle disinterest, though his sharp eyes occasionally flickered toward his sister. He had grown taller in recent years, his presence at the table no longer that of a sulking boy but a young man coming into his own, with all the arrogance and restlessness that came with it.

Across from him, Helaena picked at her meal, seemingly lost in thought, her pale fingers idly tracing patterns against the rim of her plate. Her mind was elsewhere, as it often was. Aemond, ever disciplined, sat straight-backed, his gaze flickering between those at the table, always watching, always calculating. Daeron, the youngest, listened quietly to the conversation, though he was more interested in the small lion figurine that had been gifted to him days prior—a gift from the West.

The mood at the table shifted when Grand Maester Mellos entered the hall, his robes sweeping the floor as he approached the King. The soft murmurs of conversation dimmed slightly as he bowed, presenting a small, sealed parchment.

“A message, Your Grace,” Mellos announced, his voice even. “Carried by raven from Casterly Rock.”

At the mention of the Rock, the table grew even quieter. Aegon’s fingers stilled against his goblet, his expression sharpening ever so slightly. Even Rhaenyra’s gaze flickered toward her father with mild interest. It had been years since her sister had left the Red Keep, and though she had received letters on occasion, this was the first time a message had been delivered so publicly.

Viserys reached for the parchment, breaking the seal with careful fingers. The table watched in silence as his eyes skimmed the contents. For a long moment, he did not react.

And then his hand began to tremble.

Alicent was the first to notice. “Viserys?” Her voice was measured, but beneath the calm was a thread of worry.

The King did not immediately respond. His fingers tightened around the parchment, his breathing growing uneven.

“Father?” Rhaenyra pressed, leaning forward slightly.

Aegon frowned, shifting in his seat. “What does it say?”

Viserys swallowed thickly, as if trying to find his voice. When he finally spoke, his words were quieter than usual, almost fragile.

“She is coming home.”

A beat of silence.

It took a moment for the meaning to settle into the minds of those at the table, but when it did, the reaction was swift.

Rhaenyra’s lips parted slightly, her expression momentarily unguarded before she composed herself. “She’s coming to King’s Landing?”

Alicent’s gaze darkened slightly, though she kept her expression neutral. “For what purpose?”

Viserys exhaled shakily, placing the letter down upon the table as if it were something sacred. “Jason brings her and the children to the capital.” His fingers curled over the parchment, his voice thick with emotion. “They are coming home.”

Aegon sat up straighter, his usual smirk absent. He stared at the letter as if it had personally offended him. “For how long?”

Viserys finally lifted his gaze, his violet eyes still glistening with unshed emotion. “As long as they wish.”

Alicent inhaled slowly, choosing her words with care. “And Lord Jason? Is this a political visit?”

Viserys shot her a look, irritation flashing across his face. “Do not reduce this to politics, Alicent. My daughter has been gone for three years. I have not seen her in all that time, nor met my granddaughters. If the gods are kind, I will hold them in my arms before my time is through.”

There was something raw in his voice, something that made Alicent bite back her immediate response. Instead, she composed herself, folding her hands neatly in her lap.

“If she returns to court,” Alicent said carefully, “the realm will speak of it.”

“They speak of many things,” Viserys muttered, shaking his head. “Let them talk.”

Rhaenyra, who had remained silent for longer than usual, finally spoke, her voice softer now. “She will bring the twins?”

Viserys nodded, and for the first time that evening, a genuine smile touched Rhaenyra’s lips.

“I have missed her,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Viserys met her gaze and nodded. “As have I.”

Aegon huffed quietly, crossing his arms. “So he comes as well.”

The air in the hall thickened slightly at his meaning. Jason Lannister. The man who had taken his beloved sister away.

“Yes, he comes,” Viserys said firmly. “And I expect you to treat him with respect.”

Aegon scoffed but said nothing further.

Aemond, who had been silent the entire time, finally spoke. “Will she bring her dragon?”

The question hung in the air.

“I imagine so,” Viserys mused, his voice quieter now. “She has always been one with her dragon.”

The table fell into a thoughtful silence.

Eventually, Viserys exhaled, shaking his head as if to clear his thoughts. “This is joyous news,” he declared, though his voice wavered slightly. “And I will hear no ill words about it.”

The meal resumed, but the energy at the table had shifted. Some remained quiet, lost in their own thoughts. Others exchanged glances, weighing what this visit would mean.

But only one thought truly lingered in Viserys’s mind:

He would see his daughter again. And nothing else mattered.

The morning air was crisp, carrying the scent of the sea from the western cliffs as the Lannister procession began its march from Casterly Rock. The great red banners of House Lannister fluttered in the wind, adorned with the golden lion that roared in the light of the rising sun. The sound of hooves striking the dirt road, the creak of wagons laden with provisions, and the occasional barked order from the procession’s commanders filled the air. The journey eastward had begun, and soon the Rock would be but a golden memory behind them.

Jason Lannister rode at the head of the column, clad in a deep crimson cloak, his armor glinting in the sunlight. His green eyes were sharp as they scanned the road ahead, though his mind was already considering what awaited them in King’s Landing. The capital had not seen him in three years, and he had no doubt that his arrival—accompanied by his wife and children, two dragons, and an entire Lannister host—would not go unnoticed.

Beside him, you rode with the same grace that had always set you apart, your silver hair braided intricately, the soft furs and velvets of your cloak draped over you to keep out the morning chill. You sat tall on your black mare, the very same horse that had been trained for you since your childhood, guiding you with gentle ease despite your lack of sight.

The air stirred suddenly, and the rhythmic beat of wings filled the sky above them. A shadow passed over the procession, sending ripples of unease through the gathered men, though none were truly afraid. They had grown accustomed to the sight.

Silverwing soared above them, her massive silver form glistening in the morning light, her eyes scanning the land below with quiet intelligence. She let out a soft, rumbling call, circling the column before tilting her wings, catching the wind as she ascended higher.

Jason glanced up, watching as Valyros, smaller but no less magnificent, followed in her wake. His silver scales with golden streaks shimmered like molten metal, his golden eyes mirroring those of his elder counterpart. Though not yet fully grown, Valyros had proven himself time and time again, and now he flew with instinctual precision, never straying far from his mother’s dragon.

"The realm will remember this sight," Jason mused aloud, the corner of his lips curving in amusement.

You turned your head slightly toward him, a knowing smile playing at your lips. "And what sight is that, my lord?"

Jason smirked. "The golden lions marching beneath silver dragons. There is no sight like it in the Seven Kingdoms."

You chuckled softly, adjusting your grip on the reins. "It will remind them of what we have built."

Jason nodded. "And what we have yet to claim."

A figure rode up beside them then—Ser Alester Lannister clad in finely crafted plate with the sigil of their House embossed upon his cloak. He gave his lord a smirk before glancing up at the dragons. "I wager half the realm will hear of this before we even arrive. A Lannister procession was already a grand enough sight—now you bring dragons? The smallfolk will speak of nothing else."

Jason chuckled. "Good. Let them talk."

Alester’s smirk deepened. "And what of the capital? Do you think they will be pleased by our arrival?"

Jason exhaled, his gaze flickering eastward. "The King will be pleased," he said evenly. "And my wife’s sister will welcome her with open arms."

Alester’s amusement did not fade. "And the Queen?"

Jason did not immediately answer, but the smirk that ghosted his lips held no warmth. "The Queen does not like surprises. But this one, she will have to endure."

Alester laughed. "You play a dangerous game, cousin."

Jason glanced at him, his expression unreadable. "I always do."

The road stretched out before them, winding through the hills and forests that would eventually give way to the Riverlands. The capital was still weeks away, but already the weight of what lay ahead pressed upon them.

As Silverwing and Valyros flew high above, casting their shadows upon the crimson-clad Lannister host below, Jason could not help but think how the realm is watching. And they will not soon forget what they see.

[thedwarrowscholar]

Hello! For scholars/scribes or everyday use, which writing system would be used, Cirth or Tengwar? The Dwarves adopt Cirth for their stone carving, but I would imagine that writing exclusively in cirth would put a lot of strain on writing instruments and, well, wrists because of how stiff and angular it is. IRL, cursive scripts are developed to write faster. In the film, the book of Mazarbul starts off in cirth but the last line is a messy cursive (poor Ori...). Do you have any thoughts?

Well met!

A question that touches not only on Tolkien’s linguistic worldbuilding but also on the real-world evolution of writing systems. You're absolutely right to point out the physical practicality of cursive scripts—and how that likely applied even in Middle-earth.

🪓 Cirth: A Script Born of Stone

The Cirth (runes) were initially devised by the Elves—most notably Daeron of Doriath—but the Dwarves adopted and refined them into Angerthas Moria, and later Angerthas Erebor, adapting the system for their own use.

Cirth was ideally suited for engraving in stone, wood, and metal. Its angular and straight-lined forms made it easy to carve with chisels—much like early real-world runes such as Futhark. And indeed, this seems to have been its primary intended function, at least originally.

But when applied to ink and parchment, Cirth presents obvious limitations:

Angularity = slower strokes

Frequent pen lifts = reduced efficiency

Hard on wrists during long writing sessions

✍️ Why Cursive Scripts Exist (Even in Middle-earth)

Historically, cursive scripts developed because they’re faster and more efficient to write. The word cursive itself comes from Medieval Latin cursivus, meaning “running”—derived from currere (“to run, hasten”). These scripts allow the writing tool to stay in contact with the surface, reducing effort and increasing speed.

Tolkien’s world, while fantastical, remains grounded in practical realities. The Dwarves were master craftsmen, engineers, merchants, and, at times, scholars. We know that they did not limit themselves to a chisel-optimised script for all writing contexts—especially not for ink.

📚 The Book of Mazarbul: A Key Piece of Evidence

Your mention of the Book of Mazarbul is absolutely on point—and yes, it offers a direct answer.

This chronicle, written by Balin’s folk in Khazad-dûm, includes multiple scripts:

Cirth of Moria and Cirth of Dale

Tengwar of the later Westron mode (which uses full vowel signs)

Gandalf identifies one page as being written in a “large bold hand using an Elvish script,” and Gimli confirms it as Ori’s. Most of the final page is in runes, but the very last line—“they are coming”—is scrawled in Tengwar.

Facsimile of page II

What does this show?

Dwarves—at least those literate and especially the scholarly, like Ori—did use Tengwar, especially when writing quickly or when Cirth became impractical.

This was likely not an isolated case. It reflects a layered literacy among Dwarves, especially those in leadership, scribal, or administrative roles.

🔤 Tengwar vs. Cirth: Cultural Identity vs. Practicality

Tengwar was an Elvish invention, and the Dwarves never adopted it culturally (unlike Cirth that suited engraving better). But that doesn’t mean they rejected it entirely. Much like a medieval monk might write in Latin while speaking another tongue at home, Dwarves used Tengwar functionally—when the moment demanded it.

So what likely happened was this:

Cirth remained the culturally Dwarven script (with the Moria variant used when writing Khuzdul)—employed in inscriptions, tombs, weapon etchings, and formal records.

Tengwar, particularly the Westron mode, was known to educated Dwarves and used for efficiency, likely especially in:

Letters

Journals

Merchant ledgers

Emergency or field writing

Facsimile of page III

🧾 Was There a Dwarven Cursive?

Tolkien never describes a “Dwarven cursive” variant of Cirth—but based on real-world linguistics and in-world logic, it’s possible one existed.

At the very least, a more fluid, ink-friendly variant of Cirth may have been used for day-to-day notes. But even so, the fact remains: Ori chooses Tengwar in a pinch, not cursive Cirth. That tells us that, if a Dwarven cursive did exist, it wasn't the go-to form—at least not when time was short and clarity was vital.

In short: the Dwarves were too practical not to use—or even develop—more efficient ways to write. Whether they did so by streamlining Cirth, or by using Tengwar when needed, they had options—and likely used them all.

🧠 Final Thoughts

Cirth was their script of identity—literally engraved into the stone, wood and iron that surrounded them.

Tengwar was a tool of practicality—adopted when writing had to move as fast as the moment demanded.

Tolkien shows us just enough (especially through Ori and the Book of Mazarbul) to draw this conclusion with confidence.

Ever at your service, The Dwarrow Scholar

[mostlysignssomeportents]

The enshittification of garage-door openers reveals a vast and deadly rot

I'll be at the Studio City branch of the LA Public Library on Monday, November 13 at 1830hPT to launch my new novel, The Lost Cause. There'll be a reading, a talk, a surprise guest (!!) and a signing, with books on sale. Tell your friends! Come on down!

How could this happen? Owners of Chamberlain MyQ automatic garage door openers just woke up to discover that the company had confiscated valuable features overnight, and that there was nothing they could do about it.

Oh, we know what happened, technically speaking. Chamberlain shut off the API for its garage-door openers, which breaks their integration with home automation systems like Home Assistant. The company even announced that it was doing this, calling the integration an "unauthorized usage" of its products, though the "unauthorized" parties in this case are the people who own Chamberlain products:

https://chamberlaingroup.com/press/a-message-about-our-decision-to-prevent-unauthorized-usage-of-myq

We even know why Chamberlain did this. As Ars Technica's Ron Amadeo points out, shutting off the API is a way for Chamberlain to force its customers to use its ad-beshitted, worst-of-breed app, so that it can make a few pennies by nonconsensually monetizing its customers' eyeballs:

https://arstechnica.com/gadgets/2023/11/chamberlain-blocks-smart-garage-door-opener-from-working-with-smart-homes/

But how did this happen? How did a giant company like Chamberlain come to this enshittening juncture, in which it felt empowered to sabotage the products it had already sold to its customers? How can this be legal? How can it be good for business? How can the people who made this decision even look themselves in the mirror?

To answer these questions, we must first consider the forces that discipline companies, acting against the impulse to enshittify their products and services. There are four constraints on corporate conduct:

I. Competition. The fear of losing your business to a rival can stay even the most sociopathic corporate executive's hand.

II. Regulation. The fear of being fined, criminally sanctioned, or banned from doing business can check the greediest of leaders.

III. Capability. Corporate executives can dream up all kinds of awful ways to shift value from your side of the ledger to their own, but they can only do the things that are technically feasible.

IV. Self-help. The possibility of customers modifying, reconfiguring or altering their products to restore lost functionality or neutralize antifeatures carries an implied threat to vendors. If a printer company's anti-generic-ink measures drives a customer to jailbreak their printers, the original manufacturer's connection to that customer is permanently severed, as the customer creates a durable digital connection to a rival.

When companies act in obnoxious, dishonest, shitty ways, they aren't merely yielding to temptation – they are evading these disciplining forces. Thus, the Great Enshittening we are living through doesn't reflect an increase in the wickedness of corporate leadership. Rather, it represents a moment in which each of these disciplining factors have been gutted by specific policies.

This is good news, actually. We used to put down rat poison and we didn't have a rat problem. Then we stopped putting down rat poison and rats are eating us alive. That's not a nice feeling, but at least we know at least one way of addressing it – we can start putting down poison again. That is, we can start enforcing the rules that we stopped enforcing, in living memory. Having a terrible problem is no fun, but the best kind of terrible problem to have is one that you know a solution to.

As it happens, Chamberlain is a neat microcosm for all the bad policy choices that created the Era of Enshittification. Let's go through them:

Competition: Chamberlain doesn't have to worry about competition, because it is owned by a private equity fund that "rolled up" all of Chamberlain's major competitors into a single, giant firm. Most garage-door opener brands are actually Chamberlain, including "LiftMaster, Chamberlain, Merlin, and Grifco":

https://www.lakewoodgaragedoor.biz/blog/the-history-of-garage-door-openers

This is a pretty typical PE rollup, and it exploits a bug in US competition law called "Antitrust's Twilight Zone":

https://pluralistic.net/2022/12/16/schumpeterian-terrorism/#deliberately-broken

When companies buy each other, they are subject to "merger scrutiny," a set of guidelines that the FTC and DoJ Antitrust Division use to determine whether the outcome is likely to be bad for competition. These rules have been pretty lax since the Reagan administration, but they've currently being revised to make them substantially more strict:

https://www.justice.gov/opa/pr/justice-department-and-ftc-seek-comment-draft-merger-guidelines

One of the blind spots in these merger guidelines is an exemption for mergers valued at less than $101m. Under the Hart-Scott-Rodino Act, these fly under the radar, evading merger scrutiny. That means that canny PE companies can roll up dozens and dozens of standalone businesses, like funeral homes, hospital beds, magic mushrooms, youth addiction treatment centers, mobile home parks, nursing homes, physicians’ practices, local newspapers, or e-commerce sellers:

http://www.economicliberties.us/wp-content/uploads/2022/12/Serial-Acquisitions-Working-Paper-R4-2.pdf

By titrating the purchase prices, PE companies – like Blackstone, owners of Chamberlain and all the other garage-door makers – can acquire a monopoly without ever raising a regulatory red flag.

But antitrust enforcers aren't helpless. Under (the long dormant) Section 7 of the Clayton Act, competition regulators can block mergers that lead to "incipient monopolization." The incipiency standard prevented monopolies from forming from 1914, when the Clayton Act passed, until the Reagan administration. We used to put down rat poison, and we didn't have rats. We stopped, and rats are gnawing our faces off. We still know where the rat poison is – maybe we should start putting it down again.

On to regulation. How is it possible for Chamberlain to sell you a garage-door opener that has an API and works with your chosen home automation system, and then unilaterally confiscate that valuable feature? Shouldn't regulation protect you from this kind of ripoff?

It should, but it doesn't. Instead, we have a bunch of regulations that protect Chamberlain from you. Think of binding arbitration, which allows Chamberlain to force you to click through an "agreement" that takes away your right to sue them or join a class-action suit:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/20/benevolent-dictators/#felony-contempt-of-business-model

But regulation could protect you from Chamberlain. Section 5 of the Federal Trade Commission Act allows the FTC to ban any "unfair and deceptive" conduct. This law has been on the books since 1914, but Section 5 has been dormant, forgotten and unused, for decades. The FTC's new dynamo chair, Lina Khan, has revived it, and is use it like a can-opener to free Americans who've been trapped by abusive conduct:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/10/the-courage-to-govern/#whos-in-charge

Khan's used Section 5 powers to challenge privacy invasions, noncompete clauses, and other corporate abuses – the bait-and-switch tactics of Chamberlain are ripe for a Section 5 case. If you buy a gadget because it has five features and then the vendor takes two of them away, they are clearly engaged in "unfair and deceptive" conduct.

On to capability. Since time immemorial, corporate leaders have fetishized "flexibility" in their business arrangements – like the ability to do "dynamic pricing" that changes how much you pay for something based on their guess about how much you are willing to pay. But this impulse to play shell games runs up against the hard limits of physical reality: grocers just can't send an army of rollerskated teenagers around the store to reprice everything as soon as a wealthy or desperate-looking customer comes through the door. They're stuck with crude tactics like doubling the price of a flight that doesn't include a Saturday stay as a way of gouging business travelers on an expense account.

With any shell-game, the quickness of the hand deceives the eye. Corporate crooks armed with computers aren't smarter or more wicked than their analog forebears, but they are faster. Digital tools allow companies to alter the "business logic" of their services from instant to instant, in highly automated ways:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/19/twiddler/

The monopoly coalition has successfully argued that this endless "twiddling" should not be constrained by privacy, labor or consumer protection law. Without these constraints, corporate twiddlers can engage in all kinds of ripoffs, like wage theft and algorithmic wage discrimination:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/12/algorithmic-wage-discrimination/#fishers-of-men

Twiddling is key to the Darth Vader MBA ("I am altering the deal. Pray I don't alter it further"), in which features are confiscated from moment to moment, without warning or recourse:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/26/hit-with-a-brick/#graceful-failure

There's no reason to accept the premise that violating your privacy, labor rights or consumer rights with a computer is so different from analog ripoffs that existing laws don't apply. The unconstrained twiddling of digital ripoff artists is a plague on billions of peoples' lives, and any enforcer who sticks up for our rights will have an army of supporters behind them.

Finally, there's the fear of self-help measures. All the digital flexibility that tech companies use to take value away can be used to take it back, too. The whole modern history of digital computers is the history of "adversarial interoperability," in which the sleazy antifeatures of established companies are banished through reverse-engineering, scraping, bots and other forms of technological guerrilla warfare:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/10/adversarial-interoperability

Adversarial interoperability represents a serious threat to established business. If you're a printer company gouging on toner, your customers might defect to a rival that jailbreaks your security measures. That's what happened to Lexmark, who lost a case against the toner-refilling company Static Controls, which went on to buy Lexmark:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/06/felony-contempt-business-model-lexmarks-anti-competitive-legacy

Sure, your customers are busy and inattentive and you can degrade the quality of your product a lot before they start looking for ways out. But once they cross that threshold, you can lose them forever. That's what happened to Microsoft: the company made the tactical decision to produce a substandard version of Office for the Mac in a drive to get Mac users to switch to Windows. Instead, Apple made Iwork (Pages, Numbers and Keynote), which could read and write every Office file, and Mac users threw away Office, the only Microsoft product they owned, permanently severing their relationship to the company:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/06/adversarial-interoperability-reviving-elegant-weapon-more-civilized-age-slay

Today, companies can operate without worrying about this kind of self-help measure. There' a whole slew of IP rights that Chamberlain can enforce against you if you try to fix your garage-door opener yourself, or look to a competitor to sell you a product that restores the feature they took away:

https://locusmag.com/2020/09/cory-doctorow-ip/

Jailbreaking your Chamberlain gadget in order to make it answer to a rival's app involves bypassing a digital lock. Trafficking in a tool to break a digital lock is a felony under Section 1201 of the Digital Millennium Copyright, carrying a five-year prison sentence and a $500,000 fine.

In other words, it's not just that tech isn't regulated, allowing for endless twiddling against your privacy, consumer rights and labor rights. It's that tech is badly regulated, to permit unlimited twiddling by tech companies to take away your rightsand to prohibit any twiddling by you to take them back. The US government thumbs the scales against you, creating a regime that Jay Freeman aptly dubbed "felony contempt of business model":

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/23/how-to-fix-cars-by-breaking-felony-contempt-of-business-model/

All kinds of companies have availed themselves of this government-backed superpower. There's DRM – digital locks, covered by DMCA 1201 – in powered wheelchairs:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2022/06/when-drm-comes-your-wheelchair

In dishwashers:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/05/03/cassette-rewinder/#disher-bob

In treadmills:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/06/22/vapescreen/#jane-get-me-off-this-crazy-thing

In tractors:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/05/08/about-those-kill-switched-ukrainian-tractors/

It should come as no surprise to learn that Chamberlain has used DMCA 1201 to block interoperable garage door opener components:

https://scholarship.law.marquette.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1233&context=iplr

That's how we arrived at this juncture, where a company like Chamberlain can break functionality its customers value highly, solely to eke out a minuscule new line of revenue by selling ads on their own app.

Chamberlain bought all its competitors.

Chamberlain operates in a regulatory environment that is extremely tolerant of unfair and deceptive practices. Worse: they can unilaterally take away your right to sue them, which means that if regulators don't bestir themselves to police Chamberlain, you are shit out of luck.

Chamberlain has endless flexibility to unilaterally alter its products' functionality, in fine-grained ways, even after you've purchased them.

Chamberlain can sue you if you try to exercise some of that same flexibility to protect yourself from their bad practices.

Combine all four of those factors, and of course Chamberlain is going to enshittify its products. Every company has had that one weaselly asshole at the product-planning table who suggests a petty grift like breaking every one of the company's customers' property to sell a few ads. But historically, the weasel lost the argument to others, who argued that making every existing customer furious would affect the company's bottom line, costing it sales and/or fines, and prompting customers to permanently sever their relationship with the company by seeking out and installing alternative software. Take away all the constraints on a corporation's worst impulses, and this kind of conduct is inevitable:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/28/microincentives-and-enshittification/

This isn't limited to Chamberlain. Without the discipline of competition, regulation, self-help measures or technological limitations, every industry in undergoing wholesale enshittification. It's not a coincidence that Chamberlain's grift involves a push to move users into its app. Because apps can't be reverse-engineered and modified without risking DMCA 1201 prosecution, forcing a user into an app is a tidy and reliable way to take away that user's rights.

Think about ad-blocking. One in four web users has installed an ad-blockers ("the biggest boycott in world history" -Doc Searls). Zero app users have installed app-blockers, because they don't exist, because making one is a felony. An app is just a web-page wrapped in enough IP to make it a crime to defend yourself against corporate predation:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/27/an-audacious-plan-to-halt-the-internets-enshittification-and-throw-it-into-reverse/

The temptation to enshitiffy isn't new, but the ability to do so without consequence is a modern phenomenon, the intersection of weak policy enforcement and powerful technology. Your car is autoenshittified, a rolling rent-seeking platform that spies on you and price-gouges you:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/24/rent-to-pwn/#kitt-is-a-demon

Cars are in an uncontrolled skid over Enshittification Cliff. Honda, Toyota, VW and GM all sell cars with infotainment systems that harvest your connected phone's text-messages and send them to the corporation for data-mining. What's more, a judge in Washington state just ruled that this is legal:

https://therecord.media/class-action-lawsuit-cars-text-messages-privacy

While there's no excuse for this kind of sleazy conduct, we can reasonably anticipate that if our courts would punish companies for engaging in it, they might be able to resist the temptation. No wonder Mozilla's latest Privacy Not Included research report called cars "the worst product category we have ever reviewed":

https://foundation.mozilla.org/en/privacynotincluded/articles/its-official-cars-are-the-worst-product-category-we-have-ever-reviewed-for-privacy/

I mean, Nissan tries to infer facts about your sex life and sells those inferences to marketing companies:

https://foundation.mozilla.org/en/privacynotincluded/nissan/

But the OG digital companies are the masters of enshittification. Microsoft has been at this game for longer than anyone, and every day brings a fresh way that Microsoft has worsened its products without fear of consequence. The latest? You can't delete your OneDrive account until you provide an acceptable explanation for your disloyalty:

https://www.theverge.com/2023/11/8/23952878/microsoft-onedrive-windows-close-app-notification

It's tempting to think that the cruelty is the point, but it isn't. It's almost never the point. The point is power and money. Unscrupulous businesses have found ways to make money by making their products worse since the industrial revolution. Here's Jules Dupuis, writing about 19th century French railroads:

It is not because of the few thousand francs which would have to be spent to put a roof over the third-class carriages or to upholster the third-class seats that some company or other has open carriages with wooden benches. What the company is trying to do is to prevent the passengers who can pay the second class fare from traveling third class; it hits the poor, not because it wants to hurt them, but to frighten the rich. And it is again for the same reason that the companies, having proved almost cruel to the third-class passengers and mean to the second-class ones, become lavish in dealing with first-class passengers. Having refused the poor what is necessary, they give the rich what is superfluous.

https://www.tumblr.com/mostlysignssomeportents/731357317521719296/having-refused-the-poor-what-is-necessary-they

But as bad as all this is, let me remind you about the good part: we know how to stop companies from enshittifying their products. We know what disciplines their conduct: competition, regulation, capability and self-help measures. Yes, rats are gnawing our eyeballs, but we know which rat-poison to use, and where to put it to control those rats.

Competition, regulation, constraint and self-help measures all backstop one another, and while one or a few can make a difference, they are most powerful when they're all mobilized in concert. Think of the failure of the EU's landmark privacy law, the GDPR. While the GDPR proved very effective against bottom-feeding smaller ad-tech companies, the worse offenders, Meta and Google, have thumbed their noses at it.

This was enabled in part by the companies' flying an Irish flag of convenience, maintaining the pretense that they have to be regulated in a notorious corporate crime-haven:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/15/finnegans-snooze/#dirty-old-town

That let them get away with all kinds of shenanigans, like ignoring the GDPR's requirement that you should be able to easily opt out of data-collection without having to go through cumbersome "cookie consent" dialogs or losing access to the service as punishment for declining to be tracked.

As the noose has tightened around these surveillance giants, they're continuing to play games. Meta now says that the only way to opt out of data-collection in the EU is to pay for the service:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/30/markets-remaining-irrational/#steins-law

This is facially illegal under the GDPR. Not only are they prohibited from punishing you for opting out of collection, but the whole scheme ignores the nature of private data collection. If Facebook collects the fact that you and I are friends, but I never opted into data-collection, they have violated the GDPR, even if you were coerced into granting consent:

https://www.nakedcapitalism.com/2023/11/the-pay-or-consent-challenge-for-platform-regulators.html

The GDPR has been around since 2016 and Google and Meta are still invading 500 million Europeans' privacy. This latest delaying tactic could add years to their crime-spree before they are brought to justice.

But most of this surveillance is only possible because so much of how you interact with Google and Meta is via an app, and an app is just a web-page that's a felony to make an ad-blocker for. If the EU were to legalize breaking DRM – repealing Article 6 of the 2001 Copyright Directive – then we wouldn't have to wait for the European Commission to finally wrestle these two giant companies to the ground. Instead, EU companies could make alternative clients for all of Google and Meta's services that don't spy on you, without suffering the fate of OG App, which tried this last winter and was shut down by "felony contempt of business model":

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/05/battery-vampire/#drained

Enshittification is demoralizing. To quote @wilwheaton, every update to the services we use inspires "dread of 'How will this complicate things as I try to maintain privacy and sanity in a world that demands I have this thing to operate?'"

https://wilwheaton.tumblr.com/post/698603648058556416/cory-doctorow-if-you-see-this-and-have-thoughts

But there are huge natural constituencies for the four disciplining forces that keep enshittification at bay.

Remember, Antitrust's Twilight Zone doesn't just allow rollups of garage-door opener companies – it's also poison for funeral homes, hospital beds, magic mushrooms, youth addiction treatment centers, mobile home parks, nursing homes, physicians’ practices, local newspapers, or e-commerce sellers.

The Binding Arbitration scam that stops Chamberlain customers from suing the company also stops Uber drivers from suing over stolen wages, Turbotax customers from suing over fraud, and many other victims of corporate crime from getting a day in court.

The failure to constrain twiddling to protect privacy, labor rights and consumer rights enables a host of abuses, from stalking, doxing and SWATting to wage theft and price gouging:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/06/attention-rents/#consumer-welfare-queens

And Felony Contempt of Business Model is used to screw you over every time you refill your printer, run your dishwasher, or get your Iphone's screen replaced.

The actions needed to halt and reverse this enshittification are well understood, and the partisans for taking those actions are too numerous to count. It's taken a long time for all those individuals suffering under corporate abuses to crystallize into a movement, but at long last, it's happening.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/09/lead-me-not-into-temptation/#chamberlain

Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

[simstorian-blog]

Planet Honey Pop!

(CC List + Links)

[NOTE: The light switch to the Ravasheen Hidden Lights is on the bubble tea kiosk half wall on the ground level.]

World Map: San Myshuno

Area: Fashion District

Lot Size:  30 x 20

Amenities:

Arcade

Gaming/Internet Café

“Manga” Reading Area

Retail

Rooftop Bar

Thrift & Bubble Tea Store

Gallery ID: Simstorian-ish

Packs Needed

Expansion Packs

Cats & Dogs

City Living

Discover University

Eco Lifestyle

Get Famous

Get Together

Get To Work

Growing Together

High School Years

Lovestruck

Snowy Escape

Game Packs

Dine Out

Dream Home Decorator

Spa Day

Star Wars: Journey to Batuu

Strangerville

Stuff Packs

Moschino Stuff

Kits

Desert Luxe

Recommended Gameplay Mods

(Please read through what each mod has to offer before deciding if it fits your gameplay style or not.)

Arcade Lot Trait

City Vibes Lot Trait Collection

Functional Arcade

Lock/Unlock Doors for Any Lot

MC Command Center

Spawn Refresh

Build Mode

Hamsterbelle

Mini Space Hamster Set (Railings, Stairway)

Felixandre

Paris Pt 1 (Awning Open Long & Short)

Harlix

Harluxe (Laminated Wall)

Tiny Twavellers (Mural Wallpaper)

Harrie

Klean Pt. 2

Klean Pt. 3

LittleDica

Rise & Grind (Fence 2, Wallpaper 1)

MoonSimmers

Bonaerense Set (Mosaic Floor Small, Trim Granitic Mosaic Floor)

Nempne

Cover Sheet Ceiling Tile

Pierisim

Tilable (Plaster)

Syboubou

Classic Elevator (This is NEEDED)

The Royal Geek

Vintage Life Flooring

Buy Mode

AroundTheSims4

Museum Exhibition Shop (Bag, Bag Wall Display, Poster Rolls Display)

Cepzid

Arcade Room Pack (Only the Games)

Felixandre

SOHO Pt. 1 (Mirror Slim, Round Sink, Toilet & Remote)

SOHO Pt. 4 (Lounge Seating, Lounge Table, Planter, Shelving & Poles- ALL, Stool)

SOHO Pt. 5 (Duffle Bag, Kelly Bag)

SOHO Pt. 6 (Jute Rug 4 x 3, Postcards)

Hamsterbelle

Cyberpunk Neon Lights (SpunkyMoney, Tengu)

Floor Light Décor

Hanraja

S015 (Desk Chair 3 LOW)

S019 (Desk, Desktops)

Harlix

Kichen (Glasses)

Kichen 2.0 (Glasses)

Livin’ Rum (3D Wall Art, Coffee Table, End Table, Shelves)

Ledger Atelier

Bar Counter (DL Attached Bellow)

LittleDica

H&B Store (Aisle Sign Lit, Lit Letters – ALL, Stage Light 8)

LustrousSims

Simlish Bookstore

NANDO

Fashion Store

No Style x Woodland

Cöfkeksa Lounge Chair

Tamsusja Booth Corner

Peacemaker

Kassova Sectional

Pierisim

Stefan Living Room (Curtains & Rod - TALL)

Unfold (Dining Table, End Table)

Ravasheen

Easy Peasy Lumen Squeezy Hidden Lights

Shake & Shimmy Dance Floor

RusticSims

IRL (Dining Chair, Taburete)

Sundays

Kediri Pt. 1 (Throw Pillow- Solids)

Sumba Pt. 2 (Wardrobe Dresser II- Small)

TaurusDesign

Lilith Chillin’ Areas Pt. 1 (Drinks - ALL)

Tuds

Beam Kitchen (Table Bar 1x2)

DO NOT REUPLOAD MY LOTS.

DO NOT CLAIM THEM AS YOUR OWN.

DO NOT PLACE BEHIND A PAYWALL.

Tray Files: DOWNLOAD

[raventons]

J U L This is the best build I have ever made. For the first time EVER (and I've been on this bullshit for quite sometime), I've managed to create basically exactly what I had in mind. The soft, Scandinavian country side Christmas of my childhood. A couple of years ago I read a feature about a couple that bought an old school and renovated it. That article was the main inspiration for this build, a long with the Scanian country houses hide and seek vibes (many rooms, lots of wood, cold floors, a fire place in basically every room). I tried to keep some school elements, like a desk and some chalkboards. This lot comes with a family home (one master bedroom with en suite, one family bathroom and one room for the kids). The kitchen is huge, and prepared for holiday baking. Outside is a renovated barn, ready for a Christmas party. This lot will be free for everyone in 3 weeks. Until then, please find it at my Patreon. DOWNLOAD. Please note that this lot is not functional. Please note that you need to download the following CC to make the lot look like in the pictures. SYB: X X Aggressive Kitty: X Sundays: X X X X X X X X Ddaeng: X Ledger: X X X X X X X X X Sanoy: X Novvvas: X X X X X X X X X KHD: X Winner: X Anye: X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X Severinka: X Wondymoon: X X SLYD: X Minc: X X X X Thank you so much for your support, merry christmas and happy simming!

[quartercirclejab]

i have some thoughts about the Dyne sequence in FFVII Rebirth. spoilers for FFVIIR under the cut, and trigger warning for discussion and depictions of suicide

i feel like the way the scene is rewritten goes out of its way to undercut Dyne's agency, and to soften the blow of what he ultimately chooses to do

in the original, he makes reference to Eleanor's voice- the memory of her forgiving nature having become an extension of his own, now at war with his desire to blame Barret for everything that he's lost

in Rebirth, this is rewritten as Dyne being "mad with grief" in a more literal sense, with the scene reframed to imply he's seeing figures that aren't there, and is conversing with them

the decision to tweak his characterization from someone who's been driven to the brink by despair and regret to a more generic kind of cartoonish insanity feels like an attempt to explain away the self-destructive (and understandable) spiral that he's clearly been on since Barret left Corel

the battle itself reflects this, too. in the original, it's a solemn, solitary duel between Barret and Dyne, reminiscent of an old west duel, or the final act of an operatic tragedy. the landscape is stark, and the sudden disappearance of the rest of the party forces a feeling of desperate isolation- the isolation Barret and Dyne themselves surely felt, and which now ironically forces them to fight one another

the way Rebirth handles this starts out promisingly enough. it's still a duel, and that feeling of isolation is still there, but with a distinctly modern twist- with plenty of cover to duck behind and both combatants using their weapons on full auto, it feels less like a climactic western duel and more like the final shootout of a contemporary action-thriller... less "Unforgiven", more "John Wick." it's largely a function of how Rebirth handles the original's mechanics in a more general sense, and i have to say, it works for me. it's more hectic than the original, but the emotion is still there- a fight that runs hot, while the original runs cold

but of course, because it's a modern FF, it couldn't stay an understated duel- it has to be an overlong set piece with a whole second phase, during which Dyne reveals an unsettling new power that is implied to have further altered his already unstable mind

this pushes the battle away from being a somber, clear-eyed fight for revenge and into "Old Yeller" territory- an attempt to make the player feel justified in putting Dyne down

finally, the conclusion of the sequence: Dyne's fateful choice

in both versions, the revelation that Marlene is alive sends Dyne even further into despair, as he feels he's spilled too much innocent blood to be a father, and that Marlene was unlikely to remember him even if that weren't the case. in the original, he's unable to live with the weight of that, and he chooses to jump to his death. in Rebirth, the sudden convenient appearance of a horde of Shinra troopers shakes him out of his grief and sends him flying into a rage, giving him the opportunity to choose a more ambiguous "suicide by cop"

robbing Dyne of the decision to take his own life and instead having it come at the hands of nameless Shinra troopers undercuts the final tragedy of Corel, and the tragic contrast between Dyne and Barret. Dyne thinks that the violence he's committed in the name of vengeance makes him unfit to be a father, and unfit to live, but Barret says himself that he doesn't believe his own hands are any cleaner- the guilt over trying to raise Marlene while fighting Shinra as the leader of Avalanche is a contradiction Barret has been grappling with since the game began, and witnessing Dyne's suicide only deepens his personal crisis. Rebirth's change to the scene arguably reaffirms Barret's belief in the suicidal pursuit of vengeance, rather than causing him to question it, because Shinra has now stolen from him the chance to save his best friend. it's just another tally in the ledger that wants balancing, and another cup of gasoline on the conflagration that threatens to swallow Barret whole

the change also absolves Dyne himself, who had the chance to see Marlene again and try to rebuild his life, but decided he wasn't strong enough to face that challenge. in taking the decision to die out of Dyne's hands, the player's allowed to see him as just another victim of Shinra's cruelty, one who might have redeemed himself if he hadn't been tragically gunned down. a layer of the game's complexity and emotional depth is stripped away

i don't know. Rebirth's take is certainly more cinematic, in some ways, but i wish they'd handled it differently

[depressed-simmer]

Cold Stone Creamery 🍦💝

Thanks to Scodee Yodee for creating Cold Stone Creamery sign.

✅ Cold Stone Creamery recolors were made by me (Depressed Simmer).

CREDITS: Depressed Simmer |  Around The Sims 4 | Severinka | Mutske |  Syboulette | Soloriya | Flirtyghoul | MXIMS | Littledica |  Syboulette |  PralineSims | NICKNAME | Peacemaker | SIMcredible | Ravasheen | KKB | Sloxsims | LeoSims | Ddaeng-sims | Dreamteamsims | JCTekkSims | NynaeveDesign | Pinkbox AnYe | MTQ | MXIMS | DescargasSims | Mel Bennett | Veranka | Cowbuild | Felixandre x Harrie | IllogicalSims | OhMySims | Ledger Atelier | Pixel Vibes | Hera Sims | Rirann  | Ruby Red | Winner9 | Allisas |  and more.

❌ NOTE: For realism, I strongly recommend you to download @insimniacreations' Functional Cold Stone Creamery Custom Stall because it´s not included on the building.

My gallery ID is "TotsNChildren"

DOWNLOAD HERE (EARLY ACCESS: 9/21/23)

@sssvitlanz @insimniacreations @scodeeyodee