#post office scheme features

[kcinpa]

As mentioned in my other Project 2025 post, I've been looking for a shortish summary of the environmental impacts. This article covers the parts related to NOAA (the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration). NOAA encompasses the National Weather Service (NWS). The American public gets weather forecasts and severe weather warnings for free - I mean, we pay taxes to support NWS work and they give us the results for free. Your weather app, your local TV weather forecast is all based on NWS data.

Well, Project 2025 doesn't want it to be free anymore. No they want you to pay commercial companies for the privilege of knowing about approaching tornadoes.

The gist of the linked article is that Project 2025's goals around NOAA are:

Protect the profits of the fossil fuel industry by eliminating the ability of NOAA to research and report on the climate crisis and by restricting the permitting of wind farms.

Protect the profit of commercial weather services by eliminating features that Americans get now from the National Weather Service and making Americans reliant on for-profit forecasts.

Protect the profit of commercial fishermen by eliminating offices that oversee protected areas and weakening rules around causing harm to the environment and endangered animals.

Sounds fabulous. Add to that Trump's plans to repeal all of Joe Biden's massive climate programs (seriously, Biden passed the largest climate change law in history, through a 50-50 Senate btw) and Trump's promise to open up more federal lands (including ANWR) to oil and gas drilling, and even freaking coal mining.

Yeah if you care about the climate crisis, or like knowing the weather forecast, vote Democrat.

[inheartofwinter]

Drarry fic rec: RON-DRACO FRIENDSHIP

I found this list in my phone recently and honestly couldn't understand why I hadn't posted it yet, so here it is. The criteria for this list is Ron-Draco friendship isn't based on Draco and Harry's relationship. Whether Harry and Draco are on good terms or not, Ron and Draco are still friends.

I love Ron-Draco friendship in Drarry fics a lot. If you also have the same preference, I hope you would enjoy this list.

- Can't Spell Enemy Without Friend (T; 945) by @xx-thedarklord-xx

“Piss off,” Ron said, rolling his eyes. “I’m just saying, what if we are making this bigger than it needs to be? They might not even react.”

“After all the valid shit I’ve said about you over the years?” Draco scoffed. “No one is going to believe that we’re friends.”

Or...

The one where Draco and Ron became friends but refuse to admit it because they don't want to see Harry's smug face

- You've got the antidote for me (M; 20,7k) by Kandakicksass

When Harry Potter unintentionally severs their soulbond before it can fully form, Draco Malfoy resigns himself to a slow death and decides not to burden Harry with a soulmate he's made it very clear he doesn't want.

He's never been selfless before, but for Harry, he can try.

- Peeking behind the Curtain (M; 23,5k) by calrissian18

Draco sees things he really, really wishes he didn't. If only to get out of all the homework that comes with it.

- Give Me A Quiet Mind (T; 16,3k) by calrissian18

Draco is Weasley’s assistant. Except for the week he’s not. Whose brilliant idea was that again? Featuring offices in Edinburgh, an epic Measley Bromance (that no one will admit exists), several unrequited crushes, fantastical revenge scenarios, coffee snobbery, the dreaded – yet adorable – toddler terror, promises of organ swapping, a play about Scottish history (no one cares), sequins, and the League of Snarky Secretaries!

- Blow by Blow (T; 7,3k) by calrissian18

Draco is tired of fighting. He’s still not sure he knows how to stop

- Used to be a Hot Boy (Now I'm Stunnin') (M; 6,8k) by TawnyOwl

“Why the hell would you get a fucking paw print tatted on your shoulder?” He prods, laughing at the ridiculousness of it, performing his usual detection spells on Draco’s wand.

“I didn’t. It’s my fucking soulmate being a fucking dick.”

Ron pauses. He stares. Draco stares back, brow raised in a challenge.

“You’re kidding.”

“You tell me, pureblood. Am I?”

- A Slytherin in Gryffindor Clothing (R; 38k) by mahaliem

Draco hits his head and wakes up in a world where he's a Gryffindor and Harry is a Slytherin

- tinder, flicker, flash (M; 80,3k) by @americanmoths

Molly Weasley takes Draco in after Narcissa, wanted for many murders and schemes, abandons him in the forbidden forest. This is a Drarry story, so obvs your fav schoolyard enemies fall in love, but first Draco has to learn to love his adopted family.

ft. magical Zoom calls, gay solidarity, a prank war, a real war and George Weasley’s unsubstantiated belief in his own psychic abilities.

a story where nobody makes any good decisions, yet everything turns out ok.

(Ron and Draco are more like brothers than friends in this fic.)

Hope you would like these fics!

[steddieunderdogfics]

This week’s writer spotlight feature is:  @toedenandbackagain! ToEdenandBackAgain has 7 fics posted to AO3 in the Stranger Things fandom and all of them are in the Steddie tag!

Our anonymous nominator recommends the following works by @toedenandbackagain:

hold me now, i need relief

hot (sticky, sweet)

sweet to taste (saccharine)

A Sign of The Morning

seasons change (so do we)

"Her fanfics are what got me into Steddie and Stranger Things and for that I am eternally grateful for that. (Also thank you again for reposting your fanfics back on AO3!!!)" -- anonymous

Below the cut, @toedenandbackagain answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie?

The urge to write Steddie really took me by surprise if I’m honest. I watched the first half of Season 4 (the superior half, imho), and something about Eddie’s character made me feel like he had way more to offer than what he was being given in canon. So when he and Steve started making eyes at one another, I was immediately on board.

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

I love reading enemies to lovers, or enemies to friends to lovers. I love a slow burn like nothing else, the slower the better. I think there's so much opportunity in building a relationship within a fic, especially one that was originally not friendly.

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

I love writing “long term pining” type fics. Especially of the “they're both in love with one another and neither realize it” variety. There's so much to explore in that sort of story and I love making the characters suffer just a little.

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

This question keeps me up at night because I love so many aspects of so many Steddie stories, which is such a cop out of an answer, I know 😂 I think that a Steddie story that has forever stuck with me was “Looks Like You're Hungry, Looks Like You're Drowning” by Capriciously_Terminal. Something about it just lingers, it was beautifully written. “Are You Flagging?” By soidade (my beloved) is also a forever favourite, it was the fic I was obsessively reading in my car before work. And during work. And at home.

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

I would love to explore time loops in a fic but I am just so overwhelmed with how to start. It was originally The Lathe by palm violet that sparked that urge and  I've never been able to shake it.

What is your writing process like?

I keep a log of every fic idea I ever come up with, even if it is just a handful of sentences or a quick snippet. Specific pairing ideas get grouped together, but as I'm writing I will usually come back to my Google doc of doom and scroll through to see if anything jumps out at me that could work with what I'm currently writing. I try to start with at least a rough structure of events before going in with the details, and I like to know vaguely how I intend for something to end before I even start writing. From there, I just go. I find writing in chronological order very difficult, so I like to write big scenes first, and fill in the gaps. I also love useless tidbits, little character quirks that go nowhere and mean nothing in the grand scheme of things but round out who I'm writing about and what their bigger picture story is outside of the story I'm telling.

Do you have any writing quirks?

I love to write on my phone. I know it isn’t for everyone, but I find some of my best writing work gets done when I’m hunched over my phone in the weirdest spots. Entire chapters of A Sign of the Morning were written in various office waiting rooms, on public transit, or from my work lunchroom.

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

I want to say posting when I’ve finished, but considering I wrote A Sign of the Morning in 12 days, and updated every day the exact moment I finished the chapter (no beta, no proofread, please forgive any and all absolutely horrific mistakes of that fic, they haunt me), I know that’s not the truth. I love sharing my stories, and I am always wanting to immediately put it out there for people. Posting when finished is, however, one of my goals as a writer. I would like to give readers a much more consistent upload schedule from me, and I’d love the comfort of knowing everything was finished.

Which fic are you most proud of?

This is another one of these questions that had me stumped for a long time. Part of me wants to say A Sign of the Morning, because it is, to date, my longest completed fic, as well as the fic that has gotten the most attention in my entire fanfiction writing history. But it has a lot of flaws. A lot. But at the same time, it meant so much to me that any other answer feels wrong.

How did you get the idea for A Sign of the Morning?

I loved the idea that Steve and Eddie had to have crossed paths before at some point, and I had always loved Steve’s growth as a character in the series but I felt like it was missing something. Some of the first few scenes that I imagined were the swing set scene, and the final fight Steve has with his parents. I enjoy stories that have character growth amid romance, and I wanted asotm to have that. From there, it really took on its own life. But from the moment I first had the idea, I wanted the story to have a specific feeling, which eventually led to how I chose the name. I wanted this fic to feel like the moment you have after the worst night of your life, the night you didn't know if you would make it out the other side. And then on the horizon, you can see the sun coming up, and you realize that you've made it. Steve's journey with his sexuality, his friendship, his relationships- familial, platonic, and romantic, and his growth into adulthood amidst a whole ton of supernatural trauma was what I wanted to write about- with Steddie to weave it together.

When writing A Sign of the Morning, what was something you didn’t expect?

The response for this fic is nothing I've ever experienced in around 15 years of writing. I've never had that sort of attention on my work, and I'm so grateful for every person who left a comment, a kudos, or a kind message at my Tumblr. I was also shocked how much of it just … happened. I had a few key plot points when I started writing, but some chapters and storylines (the party at the Byers-Hopper house, El’s “tattoos”, the fight between Jason and Steve) just fit and almost wrote themselves.

What inspired sweet to taste (saccharine)?

I hadn’t intended on continuing the story from hot (sticky, sweet), but once I had posted it I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I hadn’t really written a one shot like that before, where nothing actually happened between the characters and it was left hanging in the air with a “will they/won’t they”, and something about the one shot felt unfinished. But I also didn’t want to add another chapter, because I liked the standalone nature of the original and I wanted people who were happy with the ending to have the option to leave it as a flirty oneshot.

What was your favorite part to write from hot (sticky, sweet)?

The scene at the end of the story, outside Starcourt where Steve and Eddie are talking to one another was my favourite part to write. As much as the excess of samples scene holds a place in my heart, so many of my favourite lines are from that final scene. Eddie giving Steve his number by writing it on his arm and Steve sneaking Eddie into the theater really stick out in my mind.

How do/did you feel writing hold me now, i need relief?

The fic was originally inspired by the most beautiful piece of artwork by littleststarfighter on Tumblr, and from there the story really came together way faster than I was expecting. It was a harder fic to write than I anticipated. I wanted to explore a little bit of what Eddie’s life would be like if he survived, considering just how bad his injuries would have been. I have two conditions that cause chronic pain, and experienced an accident several years ago that exacerbated both of them to the point of not being able to get out of bed some days. Pouring a lot of those feelings into Eddie, writing the fic felt like a massive cathartic release and kind of a forgiveness to my past self for some of the things I had been hanging on to.

What was the most difficult part of writing seasons change (so do we)?

Right now, the actual writing part of it. I have the entire fic planned out scene to scene in a google doc somewhere, and this thing is fighting me every step of the way. Other than that, the hardest part of the chapters that are actually posted was probably getting into the heads of the characters from before we’ve known them, and making it seem realistic to who they are in canon. Writing bitchy Steve Harrington was a blessing and a curse, it was important to me to write him in a way that felt like he could connect seamlessly into S1 Steve Harrington without feeling disjointed.

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

Steve's final fight with his parents from A Sign of the Morning was in the works from the moment I started writing and when I finally got to it, everything felt perfect. The line where Steve asks his mother to let him leave is one I'm forever proud of. The final scene of a sign of the morning is another I'm partial to. Quiet, comforting love.

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

I'm getting back into writing! Slowly. Very slowly. I do have an ongoing Steddie WIP that haunts me throughout the day and I hope to update it soon.

Outside of these questions, Is there anything YOU would like to add?

So many people have reached out to me about a sign of the morning helping them come to terms with their sexuality, or that it helped them feel comfortable coming out, and for some others it even made them realize that they were in bad relationships with people around them and I am forever honored to have had something I wrote have that kind of impact. Fanfiction got me through some of the darkest times in my life and for anyone who is in a place like Steve, or Eddie, or even any of the other characters and they are fighting every day to just exist in a world that's so much harder than it needs to be- I'm so proud of you. So proud.

Thank you to our author, @toedenandbackagain, and our nominator! See more of ToEdenandBackAgain's works featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer’s Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!

[voidcrystalline]

Itzy Profiles

Writer's Note: Don't forget, people. There's a sexual themes tag on this for a reason. You opted IN to see shit like this, so calm yourself. It's not like this is real or even feasible. I don't want to hear about it. Unless you're going to ask me something dirty or make suggestions about who should be next. That, I do want to hear.

Subject Name: Chaeryeong

Acquisition: Upon JYP's unexpected dissolution, the Itzy members were first to be offered. All five were acquired simultaneously. Subject attempted escape, but her sight was hindered by tears and she ran directly into personnel.

Containment: Subject has not attempted escape since acquisition. During psych evaluations, she has expressed a belief that there is no point in trying, and has refused to so much as move for hours at a time when presented with extremely easy escape options. No special containment procedures necessary.

Features: Uncommonly strong lower body, exceptional physical dexterity and agility, quiet demeanor

Modifications: Standard preservative modifications made post-acquisition, medication for pre-existing condition (requires yearly renewal, free of charge in-office), mild bulking, very mild glute and thigh augmentation, no designer modifications 

Specialties: Humiliation, hotdogging

Designer Comments: While we don't normally disclose this, it is critical to note that this subject’s medication is a powerful antidepressant. If not properly renewed, she will become vegetative and nearly impossible to care for over the course of roughly two weeks. Properly maintained, subject is an excellent, low maintenance, and unerringly obedient slave with a rather unique figure. She will perform all tasks commanded of her to a high degree of skill, even under extreme duress (a state she is quite prone to experiencing). Subject is especially adept when it comes to physically demanding sexual activity, which is quite the entertaining contrast to her bashful nature. Subject has a sister who has worked in the idol industry as well and whose company has recently advised they will be seeking a buyer for her in the near future. Any buyer of this subject will be notified of relevant updates to that situation.

☆☆☆

Subject Name: Yuna

Acquisition: Upon JYP's unexpected dissolution, the Itzy members were first to be offered. All five were acquired simultaneously. Subject attempted to seduce two separate personnel and requested assistance with escape from them. The attempts were unsuccessful.

Containment: Subject does not seem to possess the capacity for scheming to escape. Simple locks should suffice if standard containment is desired, but subject's escape attempts when guarded only by personnel have proven quite amusing and good for morale.

Features: Highly uncommon waist to hip ratio, noted exhibitionist tendencies

Modifications: Standard preservative modifications made post-acquisition, very mild glute augmentation, nerve wiring for oral pleasure, slightly increased lung capacity

Specialties: All forms oral sex, self-humiliation

Designer Comments: It is exceptionally rare for our slaves to present a desire for escape but then actively participate in their own containment and slave training. This has, to the great entertainment of Workshop personnel, been the case with this subject. Subject seems to believe that she is far more clever than she truly is, and that, given enough time, she will be able to escape containment using her sexual wiles. She is actually quite skilled at oral sex—her primary seduction method—and practices it regularly on provided sex toys, as well as by suggesting it to any personnel she can isolate (or sometimes in groups). Unfortunately for the subject, this is not enough. For added security, the subject's nerves have been modified, such that she experiences intense sexual pleasure in her tongue, lips, soft palate, cheeks, and throat, and has not been explicitly made aware of this modification. Subject has achieved such powerful orgasms during blowjobs as to lose bodily control, thus making escape significantly more difficult. She has also developed curious, physical eating habits as a result, which personnel have found exceptionally entertaining.

☆☆☆

Subject Name: Lia

Acquisition: Upon JYP's unexpected dissolution, the Itzy members were first to be offered. All five were acquired simultaneously. Subject presented minimal resistance during the start of the acquisition, but upon observing the reactions of her group-mates, ceased resistance and encouraged the same from the others.

Containment: No special containment procedures necessary. Recommended to allow freedom into spaces with other slaves.

Features: Multilingual, noted nurturing tendencies

Modifications: Standard preservative modifications made post-acquisition, mild bulking, no designer modifications

Specialties: Slave pacification, potentially breeding

Designer Comments: Subject is a model slave, and the Workshop designer team agrees unanimously that she would be an ideal candidate for breeding. This is quite uncommon among former idol slaves. An addendum will be provided with the rest of the team's testimonials. Subject is caring and encouraging, but knows when it’s best to give others space. Potential buyers will be screened.

☆☆☆

Subject Name: Yeji

Acquisition: Upon JYP's unexpected dissolution, the Itzy members were first to be offered. All five were acquired simultaneously. Subject offered some resistance to acquisition, but ceased upon threat of physical violence from personnel (personnel in question has been reprimanded for this unnecessary behavior and given further training).

Containment: No special containment procedures necessary. Simple locks should suffice.

Features: Uncommonly firm breasts, sharp facial features

Modifications: Standard preservative modifications made post-acquisition

Specialties: Multiple penetration, same-sex interaction

Designer Comments: Subject is a physically unique and interesting specimen. Quite adept at a wide array of skills, she has proven to be a favorite of training staff, who have made numerous unusual requests for time with the subject outside of regular hours. Subject has displayed hesitations, but nonetheless continues to participate in these extracurriculars willingly. Though I have not personally supervised these, training staff have advised that her already admirable abilities are even more impressive in the informal environment. As for my own observations, I have noted that the subject is especially adept at sexually pleasing the same sex. Though I suspect such encounters may have been a regular occurrence pre-acquisition, her skill with the opposite sex has caused me to reconsider. If her buyer would be so inclined, I would be quite curious to see how this plays out over a greater period of time, and whether or not a clear pattern of preference emerges.

☆☆☆

Subject Name: Ryujin

Acquisition: Upon JYP's unexpected dissolution, the Itzy members were first to be offered. All five were acquired simultaneously. Subject was highly resistant to acquisition and both caused and received mild injuries. Subject was calmed by her former group-mate, Lia, and acquisition continued without further incident.

Containment: Subject’s escape attempts are infrequent, but quite complex in nature when they occur. Advanced electronic locking mechanisms on all containment openings recommended. Highly skilled personnel recommended for rotating guard duty.

Features: Uncommonly strong lower body, tomboyish demeanor

Modifications: Standard preservative modifications made post-acquisition, mild bulking, very mild glute augmentation, elasticity increase, natural lubrication increase

Specialties: No notable sexual specialties. Subject continues to refuse active participation.

Designer Comments: Subject is a difficult slave with high resistance to authority. Though this resistance is not violent in nature, it has proven to be quite frustrating. Subject will refuse basic labor at random intervals, as well as all sexual commands, choosing most often to lie flat and not acknowledge the sexual activity at all, even when forced upon her. She will actively resist if caused pain or discomfort, so her vagina has been modified for extra elasticity and lubrication specifically to reduce this likelihood. Of course, if a more punishing sexual encounter is preferred, the subject's anus has not been afforded the same modification. Caution should be exercised when utilizing the subject's mouth. She has not actively attempted biting, but the possibility seems to be high.

☆☆☆

Breeding recommendation addendum:

The Workshop has a set of criteria which must be met for our designer team to make a recommendation for a slave to be bred. While, of course, the decision is ultimately up to the buyer, we pride ourselves on making the recommendation sparingly, and only in the most ideal scenarios.

A candidate for breeding must meet the following criteria.

Submission: The subject must not exhibit any defiant tendencies whatsoever post-acquisition.

Affection: The subject must express desire for affection for their potential buyers, sight unseen.

Health: The subject must be checked, physically and mentally, and given a clean bill of health (including for fertility) by no fewer than three medical professionals.

Willingness: To avoid danger of self-harm or attempted pregnancy termination, the subject must have at least displayed willingness to produce offspring.

Many clients have indicated that appearance should be accounted for in a breeding candidate, but at the Workshop, we do not presume to know the tastes of our clients in advance. We can advise on matters of appearance if asked directly, but only after a preference questionnaire has been provided.

Regarding Subject Lia's candidacy for breeding, excepting confirmations of the above criteria, here are some of our other designers’ comments, transcribed from audio:

“She's wonderful! Her smile warms the heart! She’s even offered me assistance with my duties on several occasions without prompting! Lovely, lovely girl, this one.” - Dsgn. Flame

“I cannot recommend her any more highly. She is very sweet, and I just hope she finds a good home.” - Dsgn. Stone

“For quite some time, I watched the subject closely, suspecting that she was trying to fool [my colleagues] into complacency in order to escape. But I orchestrated an escape myself, and once she was off-grounds, the subject injured herself in the attempt to break free and to run back to the facility. Never in my career have I seen such behavior. I can say with certainty that Lia will be exceptionally dedicated.” - Dsgn. Deep

[butterfly-lies-chase-them-away]

Office Hours/Bells - Jonathan Crane x Fem!Reader (Part 5)

Pairing: Professor!Jonathan Crane x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 11,739

Warnings: Obsessive behaviour, Professor x Student, mention of cannibalism, manipulation, mention of violence,

Summary: Jonathan's been having more trouble with Batman than ever and Y/n wants to help out in a way.

A/N: Holy shit, did this take a very long time to write a part 5 for! My poor baby has been sidelined because of so many request coming through (I swear, everytime I post a fic or something, I get another 2 requests, I have 7 right now that I haven't started on 💀) and also Uni been keeping me from my baby :c (I have had so many assignments, I wanna die)

Sorry, this took so long to come out, but I hope you like this part 💚

(Office Hours/Bells Masterlist) (Part 4) - (Part 6)

-

Y/n's life seemed to be getting better with each day that passed. University days flowed smoothly, she found herself engaging with new friends, and evenings spent in the comfort of home with Jonathan felt like a haven from the world's chaos. She had made progress in managing her dependency on Jonathan. While she still felt a twinge of concern upon waking up without him, it no longer spiraled into full-blown panic.

But for Jonathan, life was a rough sea, each wave threatening to capsize him. Despite his alliance with the Riddler, his adventures as Scarecrow had become a problem. The ongoing vendetta with Two-Face and the Penguin haunted his every move. He protected Y/n from the grim details, keeping the nature of the conflict veiled in secrecy. And the relentless pursuit of Batman added further weight to his burden, his shadow looming over Jonathan's every scheme. Each thwarted plan, each narrow escape, chipped away at his will, leaving him weary and disheartened.

Jonathan's weariness seemed to seep into the very air as he sank onto the couch beside Y/n, the weight of his troubles evident in every crease of his blazer. 

Y/n's heart ached at the sight of him, her concern tender and palpable. "Rough night?" she murmured, her voice a soft in the dimly lit room.

"Isn't it always..." Jonathan's response carried the weight of struggles.

Sensing his need for solace, Y/n drew closer, her touch a soothing caress against his troubled brow. "Who was it this time?" she inquired, her voice laced with sympathy.

"Penguin and Two-Face," Jonathan's tone was tight, frustration simmering beneath the surface.

"And was Eddie there?" Y/n probed gently.

"Yeah," Jonathan confirmed, his arms folded tightly across his chest.

Y/n sighed, concern etched across her features. "Did he manage to escape safely?"

"Yeah, though he left me high and dry halfway through," Jonathan's words dripped with bitterness.

Y/n furrowed her brows in thought. "Hmm... as much as I appreciate Eddie's…intelect, maybe it's time you consider aligning with someone more intimidating than the Riddler," she suggested.

"That's easier said than done," Jonathan replied, his tone heavy with the weight of his predicament.

"You literally work at Arkham, I’m sure you can find someone," Y/n scoffed, playfully.

Jonathan ignored her suggestion, his attention moving to the clock on the wall. "You should be heading to bed. You've got uni in the morning," he remarked.

Y/n chuckled, amused by his bullshit distraction. "So do you!"

"Yeah, well, I'm your professor. I don’t want you to doze off during one of my own lectures," Jonathan retorted.

Y/n rose from the couch, a plea in her voice. "At least come to bed with me... please," she pouted.

Jonathan didn’t move, his gaze lingering on her. Y/n sighed, frustration evident, and grabbed his arm. "Let's go!" she tugged, pulling him off the couch.

"Yeah, yeah, just give me a minute. I'll be up in ten," Jonathan said, rising from his seat and making his way to his work desk.

"You better!" Y/n called after him, running the stairs to their bedroom.

As Y/n settled into bed, she couldn't shake off the worry that lingered from Jonathan's troubled demeanor. She knew his burdens weighed heavily on him, but she also understood the importance of his work and the dangers it entailed. One slip up and he’d be sent off to Arkham, and not as a doctor.

Minutes turned into what felt like hours as she waited for Jonathan to join her. Eventually, the metallic creak of the stairs echoed through the warehouse, signaling Jonathan's arrival, his expression still etched with weariness.

"Finally," Y/n teased, patting the empty space beside her on the bed. “You said 10 minutes, that was like 3 hours!”

“It was only half and hour,” Jonathan chuckled as he slipped under the covers, his tired frame sinking into the mattress.

“Still!” Y/n wrapped her arms around him, offering comfort.

"I'm sorry," Jonathan murmured, his voice heavy with exhaustion.

Y/n brushed her fingers through his hair soothingly. "There's nothing to apologize for. Just get some rest now," she reassured him, pressing a tender kiss to his forehead.

With Y/n's warmth enveloping him, Jonathan finally allowed himself to succumb to the embrace of sleep, grateful for the solace she provided in his hectic world.

-

The lecture had finished and two of them found themselves in Jonathan’s office. As Y/n lounged on Jonathan's couch, she let her mind wander, thinking about potential alliances, hoping to help the relentless pressure weighing on Jonathan.

"How about... Catwoman? You know her?" Y/n proposed, her voice carrying a hint of curiosity.

Jonathan, engrossed in his work, spared a moment to entertain her suggestion. "Catwoman? Just a cat burglar. No use. Besides, everyone knows Batman and her have a thing."

Y/n's brows furrowed in thought as she considered his response. "Hmm, true," she murmured, mentally crossing out Catwoman from her list.

Her eyes lit up with a new idea. "How about Mad Hatter?" she asked, her tone tinged with excitement.

Jonathan paused, briefly considering the possibility. "Jervis... You think Jervis will intimidate people?" he scoffed, a note of judgement coloring his voice.

"Well... maybe not, but can't he like... mind control and stuff?" Y/n persisted, her enthusiasm undeterred.

Jonathan nodded, acknowledging the potential usefulness of Mad Hatter's abilities. "Yeah, he can, but the likelihood of him teaming up with me is not high."

Undeterred by his negativity, Y/n continued to brainstorm. "Hmm, Bane's pretty scary. Wait, wait, wait! Killer Croc!" she exclaimed, a spark of excitement igniting in her eyes.

Jonathan's expression morphed into one of disbelief as he regarded her. "...Did you… did you use your brain before saying that?" he teased, a faint smirk playing on his lips.

Y/n's smile never faltered. "Think about it! He's huge! Scary! And probably indestructible."

"Yeah, you forget the part where he's not too fond of people, especially not us doctors," Jonathan pointed out, his tone laced with amusement at her enthusiasm.

"Well, maybe you just need to try being more likable," Y/n suggested with a casual shrug.

Jonathan stood up from his desk, his strides purposeful as he approached Y/n. "You don’t think I’m likable?" he asked, gently lifting her chin with his finger.

Y/n's eyes met his, a soft smile gracing her lips. "You're plenty likable to me, but everyone else thinks you're scary," she replied. "And it's not my opinion that matters, it's Croc's."

Jonathan took a seat beside her, Y/n instinctively wrapping her arms around his neck. "And if you can’t get anyone to like you, well then you’re just stuck with Eddie," she concluded, a playful tone coloring her words.

Jonathan sighed, his expression tired. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Y/n flashed him a smile and planted a kiss on his cheek. “Good boy,” she teased gently as she rose from the couch. “Well! You have fun. I have lectures and tutorials to attend.”

“I have somewhere to be this afternoon, so I’ll get Edward to pick you up,” Jonathan informed her.

“Okay, see you tonight then,” Y/n said, exiting his office with a wave.

-

As Y/n stepped out of the university building, the evening breeze carried with it a sense of relief, a welcome rest from the academic hustle and bustle. Her tired eyes scanned the dimly lit street, and she fumbled for her phone as it buzzed with an unknown caller. With a sigh, she answered, expecting Edward's familiar voice.

“Hiya, Eddie,” Y/n said.

“Good evening,” Edward's usual ominous tone greeted her, but the news he had was less than convenient. “I’m afraid it's a rain check tonight. Tell your lover boy I can’t come pick you up, I’m rather… preoccupied,” he explained, his voice tinged with apology.

Y/n couldn't suppress a soft chuckle at his choice of words. “No problem, but Jonathan won't be too pleased. You're becoming quite unreliable in his eyes,” she remarked, trying to lighten the mood.

Edward sighed lightly. “Well, perhaps if he stuck to our original plan, I wouldn’t need to leave him hanging. My apologies, nonetheless,” he replied, his tone sincere.

“It’s alright. Goodbye,” Y/n bid farewell, ending the call with a click.

With a quick swipe, she dialed Jonathan's number, anticipating his immediate concern. “Y/n? Is everything alright?” he asked, his voice laced with worry.

“I’m good, just a change of plans. Edward can’t make it,” Y/n reassured him, sensing his unease.

There was a muttered curse from Jonathan's end, a testament to his frustration. “I’ll try to make it as quickly as possible then,” he promised, his determination evident.

“I can manage. I’ll catch the bus and walk the rest of the way,” Y/n suggested, knowing she could handle the short journey.

“No, I don’t want you to do that,” Jonathan insisted, his protective instincts kicking in.

Y/n adjusted her bag on her shoulder, already making her way to the bus stop. "Well, I'll be waiting outside either way. Campus is closing up, so I can't stick around indoors," she informed Jonathan.

Jonathan let out a resigned sigh, his concern evident even through the phone. "Okay, just... keep me updated. Text me when you're on the bus, when you're off, and give me a call once you're home," he instructed, his tone protective.

Y/n couldn't help but inject a hint of humor into the situation. "Geez, even my parents weren't this paranoid," she teased lightly.

Jonathan's response was serious, his words weighed down by the reality of Gotham's dangers. "In this city, caution is necessary. Do you understand?" he reiterated, his concern radiating off the phone.

“Yes, yes, I understand. Bye bye,” Y/n reassured him before ending the call, feeling a sense of gratitude for his concern about her safety.

Tucking her phone into her pocket, Y/n stood at the bus stop, her gaze fixed on the approaching headlights. With a soft exhale, she boarded the bus without trouble, finding a seat towards the back.

Settling into her seat, she grabbed her phone and quickly typed a message to Jonathan, informing him that she got on the bus safely. The rhythmic hum of the bus's engine filled the air as she waited for a response, the unfamiliarity of the nighttime bus journey casting a subtle sense of unease over her. Yet, amidst the apprehension, there was a curious sense of peace in the solitude of the bus's dimly lit interior.

As the bus trundled along the familiar route, Y/n's mind wandered, thoughts drifting between the events of the day and the comforting presence of Jonathan awaiting her return. The soft glow of streetlights flickered through the windows, casting shifting patterns across the otherwise dim interior.

Soon, the bus came to a halt at Y/n's designated stop. Gathering her belongings, she rose from her seat and made her way towards the exit, offering a polite ‘thank you’ to the driver as she stepped off onto the sidewalk.

With a quick glance around, Y/n flicked Jonathan another text and beginning the short walk home. The city streets were quiet at this hour, a stark contrast to the bustling chaos of daytime.

As she walked, Y/n couldn't shake the feeling of being watched, a subtle prickle of awareness tingling at the back of her neck. Hastening her pace, she focused on the familiar landmarks that guided her path, eager to reach the safety of the warehouse.

As Y/n hurried along the deserted sidewalk, she sensed a shift in the atmosphere, a subtle tension that set her nerves on edge. Suddenly, a group of shadowy figures emerged from the darkness, blocking her path.

"Hey, sweetheart, fancy meeting you out here all alone," one of them leered.

Y/n's heart pounded in her chest as she instinctively took a step back, her gaze darting between the menacing strangers. "Please, I don't want any trouble," she pleaded, her voice trembling.

But the men closed in, their intentions unmistakably hostile. "Sorry, doll, but we got orders," another one sneered, stepping forward menacingly. "Two-Face sends his regards."

Y/n's blood ran cold as she realized the gravity of the situation. These men weren't just petty criminals, they were carrying out the bidding of one of Gotham's villains because of some vendetta.

Panic surged through her veins as she searched for an escape route, but the alley behind her was blocked, and the men advanced with predatory intent. Desperation spurred her into action as she braced herself for whatever came next, her mind racing with fear and uncertainty.

As the tension reached its peak and the menacing men closed in on Y/n, a sudden rush of wind swept through the alley. Before anyone could react, a shadowy figure dropped from the rooftops, landing gracefully in front of the would-be assailants.

The men faltered, their arrogance crumbling in the face of the unexpected arrival. "What the-?" one of them stammered.

The figure stepped forward, emerging from the shadows cast by the flickering streetlights. As his silhouette materialized in the dimly lit alley, a hush fell over the group of men. The air seemed to thicken with tension, charged with the weight of his presence alone. Batman.

Batman's steely gaze swept over the would-be assailants, each piercing stare carrying an unspoken warning that resonated with the force of a thunderclap in the stillness of the night.

Caught off guard by the sudden appearance of Gotham's legendary protector, the men faltered, their confidence crumbling. Uncertainty flickered in their eyes, betraying their inner turmoil as they exchanged nervous glances, silently acknowledging the futility of their actions.

In the deafening silence that followed, no words were needed. The unspoken command of Batman's presence was enough to quell the impending threat, dispersing it like smoke in the wind. With hesitant steps, the men retreated into the darkness, their once-bold demeanor now replaced by a sense of defeat.

Y/n watched as Batman turned to her, his piercing gaze never softening. She sensed an air of interrogation surrounding their encounter, as if every word she’d speak would be questioned. Given her complicated situation with Jonathan, she couldn't shake the feeling she was in fact guilty.

"Thank you," Y/n offered hastily, her gaze dropping to the ground, unable to meet his eyes

As Y/n attempted to move past, the man blocked her path, his imposing figure casting a shadow over her. Anxiety surged through her veins as she wondered how Jonathan would react to this situation.

"What are you doing in these parts?" His voice was gruff, heavy with suspicion.

"I live around here," Y/n replied, trying to maintain her composure despite the rising tension.

His scrutinizing gaze bore into her, making her feel exposed under the dim streetlights. "Not many houses around this area," he remarked, his tone sending a shiver down her spine.

"No, there isn't," Y/n agreed, her voice faltering slightly. "Goodbye now." She lowered her head, hoping to evade further confrontation as she essentially pushed past him.

As Y/n walked briskly through the dimly lit streets, her senses were on high alert. Every sound seemed amplified, every shadow appeared menacing. The encounter with Two-Face's henchmen had left her on edge, and the sudden appearance of Batman only heightened her unease.

She could feel the weight of his gaze on her as he spoke, his voice resonating with authority. The darkness seemed to bend around him, adding an air of mystery to his presence.

“Allow me to walk you home,” Batman offered, his tone firm yet reassuring.

Y/n's heart pounded in her chest as she debated how to respond. On one hand, having Batman by her side would undoubtedly deter any further threats. On the other hand, she couldn't let him know where she lived, considering it was a warehouse and Jonathan’s hideout.

“No! It's fine, thank you,” she replied hastily, her voice betraying her nerves.

Glancing over her shoulder, Y/n's heart skipped a beat when she found no trace of Batman. It was as if he had vanished into thin air, leaving behind only the memory of his presence. Surprised by his sudden disappearance, she couldn't shake the sense of awe that accompanied the realization of his silent departure. What they said about him was true.

As Batman vanished into the night, Y/n felt a rush of conflicting emotions flood through her. Relief washed over her as she watched him fade into the darkness, yet a lingering sense of unease gnawed at her. With a quickening of her pace, she hurried along the deserted streets, each step fueled by a growing urgency to reach the safety of her home to call Jonathan.

Shaking her head, Y/n turned her focus back to the path ahead, determined to put the encounter behind her. With every stride, she made her way closer to the sanctuary of the warehouse, her thoughts consumed by the figure of the Dark Knight and the mysteries that surrounded him.

Upon reaching the safety of the warehouse, she wasted no time in dialing Jonathan's number. His voice was laced with concern as soon as he answered.

“Did you make it home safe?” he asked urgently, his worry radiating even through the phone.

Y/n hesitated, unsure of how to break the news. “Well, uh… about that…”

“I’m coming home now,” Y/n could hear Jonathan moving around quickly through the phone.

“No, it's fine. Just finish… whatever you're doing, I'm fine now,” Y/n reassured him, her voice faltering slightly.

“Tell me what happened,” Jonathan demanded, his tone firm yet worried.

Y/n took a deep breath before recounting the encounter with Two-Face's goons and the unexpected appearance of Batman. "So, I got off the bus, right? And then these guys came out of nowhere, talking about a 'message from Two-Face.' It was pretty scary, but they didn't lay a finger on me," she explained. “It was pretty fun actually,” Y/n chuckled.

As Y/n tried to inject a hint of humor to lighten the mood, Jonathan's worry remained steadfast, his voice edged with tension.

“Y/n, this is serious,” Jonathan's voice was stern.

Feeling the weight of the situation settle upon her, Y/n couldn't help but sigh. “Well… the Batman showed up…”

There was a heavy silence on the other end of the line as Jonathan processed her words. “Y/n, am I safe to come home?” his question hung in the air, filled with uncertainty.

“Yes, I… I thanked him and told him to leave me alone,” Y/n replied, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

“But he knows you now. He's going to be suspicious,” Jonathan's mind was already racing with potential consequences.

“Yeah, I know,” Y/n sighed, her thoughts consumed by the implications of their encounter with Gotham's infamous vigilante.

"I'm just finishing up here. I should be back in half an hour. Don't open the door for anyone, don't leave the warehouse, and if something's wrong, call me," Jonathan's voice crackled through the phone.

"I already know this, Jonathan," Y/n replied, her tone laced with a hint of frustration.

"I know," Jonathan acknowledged before hanging up.

Y/n let her hand holding the phone drop to her side, her fingers trembling slightly. She made her way to her bed, the weight of the evening's events bearing down on her. Crawling under the covers, Y/n sought solace in the cocoon of blankets, hoping it would offer some comfort while she waited on Jonathan.

-

Y/n was jolted awake by the echo of the warehouse door slamming shut, she hadn’t even noticed she had fallen asleep. Disoriented and groggy, she blinked several times before realizing where she was. 

"Y/n!" Jonathan's voice pierced through the silence, carrying a tone of urgency.

Pushing herself up from the bed, Y/n's heart raced as she hurried down the stairs, her steps echoing in the space of the warehouse. Before she could even reach the ground floor, Jonathan was there, his presence reassuring and comforting. His hands were warm as they cradled her face, his concern etched in the furrow of his brow.

"Are you okay?" Jonathan's voice was urgent, his eyes searching hers for any sign of distress.

Y/n managed a weak smile, her own concern momentarily forgotten in the face of Jonathan's worry. "Doing a lot better than you, apparently," she said, chuckling a little even in the tense moment.

But Jonathan's expression remained serious, his brow furrowing even deeper. "I should have known this was going to happen. I should have made sure you were prepared. This is my fault," he murmured, his tone heavy with self-blame.

"Slow down, Jonathan. It's fine, I'm fine," Y/n reassured him, her voice calm and steady despite the lingering remnants of sleep clouding her mind.

Sensing the need for a moment of respite, Jonathan guided Y/n to the nearby couch, his movements gentle yet purposeful. With a sigh, Y/n sank into the cushions, the events of the evening still swirling in her mind as she waited for Jonathan to speak.

"I'm going to make sure this never happens again, okay?" Jonathan's voice was confident. Y/n could only manage a nod in response, her mind still reeling from the recent events.

As Jonathan moved around the room, his purposeful strides echoed in the quiet space. He retrieved something from his workbench and approached Y/n, a small canister in his hand. 

"This is a small canister of my fear gas. You keep this with you always. If you encounter any problems, you spray it in their face. Do not breathe it in," he instructed, pressing the canister into her hand.

"But what about Batman? He'll find out," Y/n asked, putting the canister on the coffee table. He’d know her connection with Scarecrow if she sprayed him with fear gas.

"I'm still figuring that out," Jonathan admitted, a hint of frustration lacing his words as he ran a hand through his hair.

Y/n watched Jonathan's movements with a mix of concern and guilt. Each stride seemed to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders, his brows furrowed in deep concentration, the flickering light cast by the single bulb overhead danced across his features, accentuating the lines of worry etched into his face.

As he paced back and forth, Y/n couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt gnawing at her insides. She replayed the events of the evening in her mind, each moment a stark reminder of her vulnerability. A knot formed in her stomach, a silent acknowledgment of the burden she unwittingly placed upon him.

Lost in her thoughts, Y/n's gaze drifted downward, her hands fidgeting restlessly in her lap. Picking at the skin around her nails, she couldn't bear to meet Jonathan's eyes, fearing the weight of his disappointment or worse, his blame. Instead, she sought solace in the safety of herself, hoping to find some semblance of clarity amidst the turmoil of emotions swirling within her, although nothing could comfort her like Jonathan could.

Suddenly, Jonathan's movements ceased, his attention drawn to Y/n's shift in demeanor. He knelt before her, his hands cradling her face with a tenderness that contrasted his earlier agitation.

"This is not your fault, you know that. None of this is your fault," Jonathan's voice was gentle yet firm, his gaze unwavering as he locked eyes with hers.

"You are my girl, and it was my duty to protect you. I wasn't there, and for that, I'm sorry," Jonathan confessed, his words laced with sincerity.

Y/n managed a small smile, her heart swelling with warmth at his words. "I'm your girl," she repeated softly.

"That's right, and I'm going to make sure you are never in that situation ever again," Jonathan vowed, sealing his promise with a tender kiss upon her forehead.

Y/n's arms wrapped around Jonathan's neck, her touch a gentle plea for comfort and closeness. "Take me to bed," she murmured, her voice a soft melody in the dimly lit room.

Jonathan's lips curved into a tender smile at her request. "Of course, my dear," he replied, his tone carrying the warmth of affection.

With effortless grace, Jonathan scooped her up from the couch, cradling her in his arms like a doll. He moved with smoothly through the warehouse, navigating the familiar path to their shared bed. Gently lowering her onto the soft mattress, he lingered for a moment, savoring the intimacy of the moment before retreating to change into more comfortable attire.

Meanwhile, Y/n eagerly awaited his return, her heart warm. As Jonathan finished changing into more relaxed clothing, Y/n's eyes sparkled with warmth and adoration.

Climbing into bed beside her, Jonathan enveloped her in his embrace, the warmth of his body a comforting presence against her own. Y/n nestled closer, seeking solace in his arms, her worries momentarily forgotten in the safety of their shared space.

"Can we just stay here tomorrow? I don’t want to go to uni," Y/n murmured softly, her voice tinged with reluctance.

Jonathan's chuckle rumbled through the room. "While you could easily skip out on lectures, I’m the one teaching them, so it won’t be that simple," he teased gently.

Y/n's pout softened into a playful grin as she persisted, her eyes pleading with him to indulge her whims. "My other lecturers and Professors cancel lectures all the time. You can do it too," she urged, her voice filled with mischief.

Jonathan's sighed, a testament to the power she held over him. "For you, I will. But just this once," he relented, his gaze softening with unspoken affection as he met her pleading eyes. Y/n cherished every moment they shared like this.

Y/n's heart swelled with gratitude, a radiant smile lighting up her features as she pressed a tender kiss to his cheek. She knew how Jonathan had a soft spot for her and she intended to use it to her advantage.

"Can you tell me what you were doing today?" Y/n asked, look up at Jonathan.

Jonathan hesitated briefly, his expression guarded as he weighed his response. "Just sorting out a mess Batman put me in. Nothing important," he finally replied, his words vague.

Y/n decided not to pry and leaned in closer, her eyes alight with curiosity. "Can I come with you to Arkham next time?" she asked eagerly.

"Why?" Jonathan asked, looking down at her.

"I want to look for potential allies for you," Y/n replied sweetly.

Jonathan's brow furrowed with concern. "It’s a dangerous place, Y/n, you know that. And after tonight, I don’t want you to put yourself at that risk," he cautioned.

"But I have you," Y/n countered softly, her gaze unwavering as she met his eyes.

Jonathan's eyes softened as he looked down at Y/n. "Fine, but you don't leave my side," he said.

Y/n met his gaze with a nod. "Understood," she replied.

Jonathan leaned back against the pillows, pulling Y/n closer to him. “Now, go to sleep.” His arm wrapped protectively around her.

Y/n nestled into his embrace, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her cheek. A small smile played on her lips as she closed her eyes.

-

Y/n practically bounced with excitement as they made their way to Arkham. Jonathan, though usually reserved, couldn't help but stress about her safety, especially after last night. The morning air was crisp as they drove in the car, Y/n chattering away about what ever came to her mind.

Jonathan had envisioned a lazy day at home with Y/n, perhaps catching up on some reading or simply enjoying each other's company, but Y/n's eagerness to visit Arkham Asylum to find possible allies for Jonathan sparked a new energy in her, one that Jonathan couldn't resist. Despite his initial reluctance, he found himself giving in.

As they pulled up to the imposing structure, Jonathan turned to her, his expression serious as he outlined the rules for their visit.

"You don't speak to anyone unless I allow it," he began, his voice carrying a weight of authority. "If we interact with a patient, you stay behind me. You don't leave my office unless I say you can, and only with me accompanying you. Understand?"

Y/n nodded eagerly, she had already forgotten the first rule. "Got it," she replied.

As they stepped through the doors of Arkham, Y/n couldn't help but feel a chill run down her spine. The air seemed to grow colder, the atmosphere thick with an eerie quietness was sometimes broken with screams of patients through the walls of the facility. 

Following the security protocols, they passed by stern-faced guards who eyed, their presence a stark reminder of the dangers that lurked within the walls of Arkham. Y/n felt a sense of unease settle in the pit of her stomach, but she pushed it aside. It’s not like it was her first time at Arkham, but today, it just felt different. 

As they walked down the corridors, the air was heavy with the scent of antiseptic, mingling with the faint hint of decay that seemed to linger in the air. They passed by other doctors and staff members, each lost in their own world as they hurried about their duties. Y/n offered polite nods and smiles as they passed. Finally, they arrived at their destination, the door looming before them like a gateway to another world.

Entering Jonathan's office, Y/n took in the familiar sight with a playful smirk. Not a single thing had changed from when she was last there. "Wow, you sure changed things up in here, didn’t ya?" she teased, glancing around at the familiar decor.

Jonathan closed the door behind them with a soft click. "Well, you know me," he replied, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Y/n's eyes sparkled with excitement as she turned to face him. "So... can I take a look at some patient files?" she asked, sweetly.

"I have a few patient files in that cabinet," he said, pointing toward a nearby filing cabinet. "But those are just the ones I have access to, the rest you’d have to look up on the computer. God, why am I encouraging this," Jonathan sighed, shaking his head slightly.

Y/n grinned, moving toward the cabinet. "Because deep down, you know you could use another ally. Edward has been doing… admirably, but the two of you could use some extra assistance," she remarked, pulling open the cabinet door.

Rummaging through the files in the cabinet, Y/n couldn't find anything particularly intriguing at first. Nonetheless, she knew she had to comb through them thoroughly. Pulling out a stack of files, she placed them on the floor and settled in front of them.

As she sifted through the scattered documents, Y/n let out an exasperated sigh. "This is going to be..." Her words trailed off abruptly as her eyes landed on a familiar name. "Hey! It's Eddie's file!" she exclaimed, snatching up the folder labeled ‘Edward Nygma’.

Y/n eagerly flipped through the pages, scanning Jonathan's notes on Edward's behavior with keen interest. As Y/n delved into Edward's file, she couldn’t help the cheeky smile that sat on her face.

"Let's see what we've got there," Y/n said.

Y/n scanned through the pages until she reached Jonathan's comments. "Hmm, it says here that Edward's behavior has been erratic, with notable mood swings and a tendency towards belittling people," she summarized, glancing up at Jonathan.

Jonathan nodded thoughtfully. "And my point still stands, Edward can be quite the pain at times. He's a brilliant mind, but his ego can be a challenge to manage. He's proven himself to be a valuable ally, albeit a complicated one," he explained, his brow furrowing slightly.

Y/n set the file aside with a sigh. "True, we can't have two Edwards, as delightful as that might seem.”

Y/n immersed herself in the task, each file a window into the troubled minds housed within Arkham's walls. She carefully studied the details, from the patients' histories to their treatment plans, searching for any glimmer of hope among the darkness. Some files bore the scars of past trauma, while others hinted at the depths of madness that consumed the paitents.

Despite the grim surroundings, Y/n remained undeterred, her will unwavering as she searched through the records. She knew that finding the right ally for Jonathan was crucial, and she refused to let the daunting task daunt her.

-

As Y/n sifted through the final file, she couldn't shake the nagging feeling of disappointment. Deep down, she knew the individual she had in mind wouldn't be found among these records. Still, she looked through them hoping that another potential ally would catch her eye before she reached the inevitable conclusion. But that sadly did not happen.

Y/n's disappointment lingered like a heavy cloud as she leaned against the couch behind her. Jonathan, absorbed in his paperwork, looked over at her.

"Didn't find anyone?" Jonathan's voice broke the silence.

Y/n shook her head, her lips forming a small frown. "No," she murmured.

Rising from his desk with a sigh, Jonathan approached her, his presence a comforting anchor in the midst of her frustration. He offered a hand as they began to gather the files strewn across the floor.

Together, they arranged the files back into the cabinet, the soft click of folders echoing in the quiet room. Y/n couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment as she closed the cabinet door.

Jonathan's touch was gentle as he cupped her face in his hands, his eyes reflecting understanding and compassion. "Thank you for trying to help me," he whispered, his voice a soothing balm to her disappointed thoughts.

"I just want you to be safe," Y/n confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. "I don't want to lose you."

Jonathan's expression softened, his thumb gently brushing against her cheek. "I know, Dear. And I promise you, I will never leave you," he vowed, his words infused with sincerity.

A tender kiss sealed their unspoken promise, the warmth of Jonathan's lips against hers a reminder of the care that bound them together.

“I’m going to get you something to eat, you’ve worked really hard. Feel free to use my computer.” As he offered her the use of his computer, Y/n's mind raced with anticipation, her pulse quickening with renewed hope.

Alone in the quiet office, Y/n wasted no time in accessing Jonathan's work files, her fingers moving with purpose as she typed in the name she had been longing to find: 'Waylon Jones.' With each keystroke, her excitement grew, anticipation thrumming in her veins as she delved into the possibilities that lay ahead.

Only one file was shown on the screen. She hadn't anticipated much information, and true to her expectations, the file offered little beyond a photo, a name, and the location of the detainee. Still, it was a small victory to have confirmation that he was indeed housed at Arkham.

As she clicked through the sparse details, Y/n couldn't suppress a wry smile. The file painted a vivid picture of the individual in question: big, aggressive, and extremely resistant to any attempts at examination or treatment from doctors. It seemed he had garnered quite the reputation among the staff, earning him the privilege of a solitary confinement cell, though it sounded more like a shitty underground chamber than a conventional cell.

According to the file, Waylon Jones, also known as Killer Croc, had been transferred from Blackgate Penitentiary after a series of violent incounters with other inmates, that including cannibalism, this prompting his relocation to Arkham's more secure confines. With no mention of guards stationed outside his cell, it seemed they deemed the iron door barrier formidable enough to deter any escape attempts.

As Y/n absorbed the details, a surge of excitement coursed through her veins. The thought of finding a potential ally for Jonathan filled her with anticipation. However, her excitement quickly gave way to a sinking feeling of dread. She realized that Jonathan would never allow her to come into contact with someone as dangerous as Killer Croc. His aggressive reputation and cannibalistic tendencies made him too great a risk.

Glancing at her phone, she saw the message from Jonathan. He said that while getting her food, he was caught up by other doctors and forced along to an unexpected paitent emergency. With her heart racing and adrenaline coursing through her veins, Y/n made a split-second decision. She would take matters into her own hands, consequences be damned. With Jonathan occupied and unavailable for atleast an hour, she saw a narrow window of opportunity opening before her. 

Rummaging through Jonathan's desk drawers, Y/n's fingers fumbled in search of an additional access card of his. She knew her visitor pass would only grant her limited access, and if she were to proceed with her impromptu plan, she needed all the clearance she could get.

With an access card in hand and her resolve steeled, Y/n braced herself for what lay ahead. Was this very last minute and stupid? Absolutely! Could she possibly die? More than likely. Did she wish she could take a shot of vodka first? 100%. Yet, despite the looming dangers and uncertainties, she couldn't suppress a faint flicker of hope.

Stepping out of the office, Y/n's pulse quickened with every beat. She closed the door behind her with a soft click, casting a wary glance down the dimly lit hallway. The eerie silence that enveloped the corridor sent a shiver down her spine. The absence of security measures was glaringly evident, something that should have brought her little comfort instead made her feel at ease.

Despite her guilt for disregarding Jonathan's instructions, Y/n clung to the hope that her disobedience would prove to be useful. Perhaps she could return before he even realized she was gone, and if everything goes well, she might present Jonathan with a potential ally.

Y/n's gaze flitted nervously from side to side, taking in every detail of her surroundings. The walls were lined with faded posters and peeling paint, remnants of attempts to brighten the otherwise gloomy corridors. A shiver ran down her spine as she passed by the occasional door, worried someone was going to pop out at any minute.

As she reached the map mounted on the wall, she hesitated for a moment, her fingers trembling slightly as she aimed her phone to capture the image. The soft glow of her screen illuminated the map, revealing a maze of corridors and rooms, each labeled discreetly.

With the photo safely stored on her phone, Y/n continued her journey towards the elevator. The low hum of the fluorescent lights buzzed in her ears. Every step brought her closer to the elevator, which only brought the feeling of unease.

As the elevator doors slid open with a soft hiss, Y/n stepped inside, her heart pounding in her chest. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for the unknown as she scanned Jonathan’s access card and pressed the button for the basement floor. The elevator lurched into motion, descending into the depths of Arkham Asylum.

She sighed in relief as the card granted her access, though the ease with which she snuck around Arkham only served to boost her nerves. The dimly lit hallway stretched before her, its atmosphere adding to her sense of unease. 

Y/n found herself appalled by the lack of security measures as she descended to the bottom floor. Pulling out her phone to consult the map, she cursed as the map to photographed only covered floors 3 and 4, prompting a groan of frustration. Nevertheless, she pressed on, determined to navigate the unfamiliar territory.

Fortunately, another map awaited her, and she quickly snapped a photo before studying it intently. The harsh fluorescent lights flickered above as she traced the route to Killer Croc's cell, designated as WC286. She couldn't help but scoff at the irony of housing such a dangerous inmate in what appeared to be the dank confines of the sewers.

"How humane," Y/n muttered sarcastically as she set off toward her destination.

Each step echoed against the concrete walls, accompanied by the ominous sounds of dripping pipes that seemed to heighten her unease.

Arriving at what she assumed to be the designated food storage area for Croc, Y/n hesitated momentarily before opening the refrigerator. The sight that greeted her was disgusting. An array of raw, whole chickens arranged haphazardly on the shelves. The pungent odor of blood and decay wafted from within, assaulting her senses and causing her to gag.

Despite her disgust, Y/n selected a chicken, her fingers recoiling slightly from its slimy surface. With a steadying breath, she closed the fridge and turned her attention to the door leading to Croc's cell. The anticipation coiled in her stomach. This was it. 

As she approached the heavy door, Y/n's pulse quickened, her hand trembling slightly as she swiped Jonathan's access card. The electronic beep of the scanner reverberated in the corridor, amplifying her anxiety. With bated breath, she watched as the indicator light flashed green, signaling her entry.

With a hesitant motion, Y/n released the lock mechanism, the metallic click resonating in the silence. Gripping the door handle tightly, she pushed it open, the heavy metal creaking ominously against its hinges. As the threshold of Croc's cell loomed before her, Y/n readied herself for the encounter, bracing for whatever lay beyond.

As Y/n stepped across the threshold, a chill swept over her, sending shivers down her spine. The dim, flickering light cast eerie shadows that danced along the damp walls of the sewer. The air was thick with the musty scent of decay, mingling with the metallic tang of moisture and the faint hint of something primal and animalistic.

With cautious steps, Y/n descended into the depths of the sewer, her footsteps echoing against the cold, wet floor. The narrow path stretched out before her, twisting and turning into darkness. 

"Hello?" Y/n's voice bounced off the walls. "I, uh... I brought some chicken."

A sudden ripple broke the silence, disturbing the murky water nearby. Y/n's heart leaped into her throat as she spun around, her eyes widening in alarm. Emerging from the depths was a figure, its form obscured by the murky waters. As it drew closer, the dim light revealed its scaly, green skin, and its piercing yellow eyes glowed with an eerie intensity.

Y/n's breath caught in her throat as she instinctively raised the chicken in a feeble attempt at a peace offering. "I'm not a doctor!" she blurted out, her voice trembling with fear.

The echoes of Y/n's words lingered in the cavernous space as she stood, her senses heightened, acutely aware of the looming figure before her. Waylon's form, still submerged, seemed to meld with the darkness. Each movement sent ripples across the murky water below.

“You lost, girl?” Waylon's gravelly voice cut through the silence. Y/n felt a knot tighten in her stomach. She swallowed nervously, the sound reverberating in the stillness of the sewer.

"No," Y/n responded, her voice barely above a whisper, the word hanging in the air like a fragile thread.

The faint glint of curiosity flickered in Waylon's yellow eyes as he regarded her with suspicion. His presence exuded an aura of primal strength, sending a shiver down Y/n's spine.

As she struggled to find her words, Y/n pressed herself against the cold, damp wall, seeking some semblance of security in the darkness that enveloped them. “Then what are you doing here?” She could feel the weight of Waylon's gaze, an unspoken challenge in his penetrating stare.

Summoning her courage, Y/n introduced herself, her voice trembling with uncertainty. “My name is Y/n.”

“So?” Waylon's response was a low, guttural growl, his demeanor unyielding as he judged her.

Y/n's heart raced as she struggled to find a reason for her presence in this desolate place. “I would like to be acquaintances, or something,” The fear of his impending judgment hung heavy in the air, suffocating her attempts at explanation.

“Why?” He asked, moving closer to her through the water.

With a shaky breath, Y/n said “I would like your help,” her words faltering in the face of Waylon's imposing figure. The tension between them was palpable, a silent exchange of power and vulnerability.

“And what’s stopping me from eating you?” Waylon's question echoed in the darkness, a stark reminder of the risk of her situation.

“Nothing… but if you’re hungry, you can have chicken,” Y/n's pulse quickened as she extended the offering of chicken.

His eyes shifted between her and the chicken. Suddenly, Waylon lunged up, out of the water. Y/n screamed, her senses overwhelmed by the rush of water and the frightening movement of the creature before her.

As the echoes of her startled scream faded into the darkness, Y/n found herself trembling, her pulse racing with adrenaline. The encounter had left her shaken, yet she couldn't help but feel a glimmer of hope amidst the fear. She was okay. 

Waylon tore into the chicken with primal ferocity, his sharp teeth gnashing at the bones with a savage hunger. Y/n watched in a mixture of fascination and disgust, her hand recoiling as she realized it had just held the now-devoured meal.

As Waylon remained preoccupied with his feast, Y/n took the moment to attempt to clean her hand. With a grimace of disgust, she crouched down and swished her hand into the murky water, a futile attempt to cleanse away the filth.

Her efforts were met with Waylon's gruff observation, his voice cutting through the silence like a knife. “That water ain’t clean, girl.” Y/n's cheeks flushed with embarrassment as she withdrew her hand.

Desperate to shift the focus away from her awkward blunder, Y/n attempted to strike up a conversation, her voice laced with forced casualness. “So uhh… you like it down here?” She glanced around the dimly lit surroundings, the oppressive atmosphere weighing heavily on her.

“Would you?” Waylon's response was blunt, his words carrying the weight of bitter resignation. Y/n couldn't help but empathize with the sense of isolation and despair that permeated the damp confines of the sewer.

“Uh.. no, no I would not..” The realization of the stark contrast between her privileged existence and Waylon's grim reality struck a chord within her, filling her with a profound sense of gratitude for the life she took for granted above ground.

Finishing the chicken, Waylon regarded her with skepticism, his imposing figure still partially submerged in the murky water. His demeanor had softened slightly, no longer radiating the same intimidating presence as before.

"Why you need my help?" His asked, curiously.

Y/n hesitated for a moment, carefully choosing her words. "Have you heard of Dr. Crane?" she asked, her tone lowered to a hushed whisper.

“What about him?” Waylon asked, sounding tense. 

“You know his… alter ego?” Y/n said, discreetly. 

"The Crow Boy," he muttered, his words filled with an air of familiarity.

Y/n nodded in acknowledgment. "He's facing some... problems with a certain… bird and… coin," she continued cryptically, her eyes darting around the surroundings for any signs of eavesdroppers.

"And what does that have to do with me?" Waylon's piercing gaze fixed on Y/n.

"I was wondering if you could help him… be an ally," Y/n replied.

Waylon remained silent for a moment, contemplating her proposal. "I ain't much help in here," he scoffed.

A flicker of determination sparked in Y/n's eyes as she leaned in closer, her voice barely above a whisper. "We can help you," she said, her words filled with hope.

Y/n's heart skipped a beat as she felt the vibration in her pocket. With a gasp, she grabbed her phone from her pocket, her stomach twisting with apprehension. It was Jonathan.

She answered with a shaky voice, "Hello?"

The stern tone of Jonathan's voice sent a shiver down her spine. "Where are you?" he demanded, his concern hidden behind his blank anger.

"Um, sorry, I'm on my way back," Y/n replied hastily, not giving Jonathan a chance to respond before hanging up.

Waylon observed her with a knowing expression, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. "I take it you didn't tell him of your little visit down here?" he remarked dryly.

"I have to go," Y/n said hurriedly, slipping her phone back into her pocket.

With a quick glance back at Waylon, Y/n offered a brief wave. "I'll see you later," she called out before darting off towards the security door.

Y/n's heart raced as she completed the security measures at the door, her fingers trembling slightly as she ensured everything appeared undisturbed. Y/n paused for a moment, with a cautious glance over her shoulder, she surveyed the corridor behind her, her senses on high alert. Satisfied that all seemed quiet and undisturbed, she turned back around to continue on her way.

But as she turned, her breath caught in her throat, and her heart skipped a beat. Standing right in front of her was Jonathan. The unexpected sight sent a jolt of adrenaline coursing through her veins, and she froze in place, her pulse quickening with a mix of surprise and apprehension.

"Uh… hey, Jonathan..." Y/n's voice faltered, a nervous edge creeping into her tone.

Jonathan's response was a stern silence, his features rigid with barely contained anger.

"Jonathan?" Y/n's voice wavered as she tried to meet his gaze, but he remained stoically silent, his jaw set in a tight line.

Without a word, he grabbed her wrist in a firm grip, his fingers closing around her skin with a vice-like grip. Y/n let out a small gasp of surprise, her pulse quickening at the thightness of his grip.

With a tug, Jonathan began to drag her towards the elevator, his grip unyielding as he pulled her into the elevator. Y/n stumbled slightly, her heart pounding in her chest as she struggled to keep pace with his stride. Each step feeling heavier than the last as the weight of Jonathan's anger bore down upon her.

As they reached the elevator, Jonathan scanned his ID. The soft hum of the elevator filled the tense silence between them as they waited, the air thick with unspoken tension.

When the doors slid open, Jonathan released her wrist, but his gaze remained fixed upon her with an intensity that made her skin prickle with unease. Without a word, he gestured for her to exit the elevator, his silent command clear.

With a trembling breath, Y/n stepped out, the weight of Jonathan's silent anger heavy upon her shoulders. 

Y/n's heart pounded in her chest with nervousness. With each step closer to Jonathan's office, her stomach twisted into tighter knots of anxiety, a sense of unease settling over her like a heavy fog.

Upon reaching the door, Y/n hesitated, her hand hovering over the handle as she braced herself for what would lay ahead. Jonathan's presence behind her felt suffocating, his towering figure casting a shadow over her as he stood just a breath away.

With a sharp click, Jonathan unlocked the door. Y/n entered the office as Jonathan followed close behind her. The door closed with a resounding thud, sealing them both in a confined space.

Turning to face Jonathan, Y/n felt a knot tighten in her stomach, her fingers trembling with nerves. She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could utter a word, Jonathan's voice cut through the air like a whip, sharp and unforgiving.

"Jonathan, I—" Y/n began, but her words were drowned out by the force of his anger, his voice bouncing off the walls of the small office.

"What were you thinking?" Jonathan's voice was filled with anger, his eyes blazing with barely contained rage.

"You kn—" Y/n attempted to explain herself, but Jonathan's outburst was relentless.

"Do you know how dangerous that was, Y/n?!" Jonathan's words came out in a flood of frustration, his tone harsh.

"Yes, but I—" Y/n tried to protest, but Jonathan's tirade showed no signs of stopping, his anger boiling over.

"I told you to stay here, but you didn't listen to me! Not only that, but you took my access card, and now there's probably footage of you going into Croc's cell! I'm going to have to go through the files and delete whatever footage there is of you!" Jonathan walked back and forth, trying to get a hold of his frustration.

"I'm sorry, Jonathan. I know I've probably caused so much trouble for you," Y/n began. She glanced down at the access card in her hand, a silent acknowledgment of her mistake.

Jonathan's eyes narrowed as he regarded her, his brow furrowed with frustration. "You could have died, Y/n. What were you thinking!" His voice boomed in the office, echoing off the walls with a force that made Y/n flinch.

Feeling the weight of Jonathan's disappointment, Y/n took a step forward, her heart racing. "I was thinking about you! I'm sorry, I should have told you, but look, I'm okay!" Her voice wavered slightly, her eyes pleading for him to understand.

Jonathan's laughter cut through the tension, but there was no humor in it, only a bitter edge that sent a shiver down Y/n's spine. "You are never leaving the warehouse," he laughed, his eyes filled with darkness.

Y/n's shoulders sagged with the weight of his words, but she refused to back down. "Jonathan, please! Waylon is willing to help!" Her voice rose in urgency.

Jonathan's stomped around the room, his anger radiating off of him. Y/n stood rooted to the spot, her pulse racing as she watched him gather his belongings. The click of his briefcase snapping shut echoed like a final verdict.

With a sharp intake of breath, Jonathan's hand closed around Y/n's wrist, his grip tight and unyielding. She winced at the pressure, feeling the weight of his anger bearing down on her.

"Jonathan, please..." Y/n's voice wavered.

But Jonathan's response cut her off. "Stop talking," he commanded, his tone brooking no argument. Y/n fell silent, her heart sinking with the weight of his disappointment.

The hallway seemed to stretch on endlessly as Jonathan marched forward with determined strides. Y/n hurried to keep up, her steps clumsy as she struggled to match his pace. Her heart hammered in her chest, the weight of regret and guilt bearing down on her with each passing moment. Jonathan's shoulders were squared and jaw set in a firm line.

Tears threatened to spill from Y/n's eyes as Jonathan's grip on her wrist tightened, a silent, but bruising reminder of his anger. She swallowed hard, wishing she could turn back time and undo her reckless actions.

As they reached the exit, the cool air outside offered little relief from the stifling tension between them. Y/n cast a glance back at the now-empty hallway, praying no one saw the two of them. He practically forced Y/n into the passenger seat of his car, the force of his actions leaving her shaken.

Behind the wheel, Jonathan's jaw was set, his knuckles white against the steering wheel as he drove with single-minded focus. The tension in the car was tight, a silent testament to the breach of trust between them.

As they pulled up to the warehouse, Jonathan slammed the car door shut with a resounding thud. Y/n hesitated, her hands trembling as she reached for the door handle. She had no time before Jonathan pulled open her door and yanked her out.

Wordlessly, Jonathan unlocked the warehouse door and ushered Y/n inside. The atmosphere inside was heavy with tension, each step echoing with the weight of their strained relationship.

Y/n trailed behind Jonathan as he moved through the warehouse, each click of the lock sending a shiver down her spine. His movements were methodical, reminiscent of the way he had locked her in when he first brought her here. The sound of the locks sliding into place echoed in the silence, sealing off any chance of escape. Y/n's heart sank as she watched Jonathan lock the warehouse door. The sound echoed in the empty space, filling her with a sense of dread. She couldn't bear the thought of being trapped again. Jonathan's jaw was set in a rigid line, his eyes cold and distant as he shut her out, both physically and emotionally.

Tears welled in Y/n's eyes as she struggled to find the right words to explain herself. "Jonathan, please," she pleaded, her voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't mean to upset you. I was just trying to help."

But Jonathan remained silent, his back turned to her as he continued his task. The sound of locks clicking shut reverberated through the warehouse, each one sealing her fate a little more tightly.

Jonathan's expression softened slightly as he turned to face Y/n, his gaze piercing through her tear-filled eyes. "Y/n, I need you to understand the gravity of what you've done," he began, his voice heavy with disappointment. "You put yourself in danger, disregarding every warning I've given you. Do you realize how reckless that was?"

Y/n nodded weakly, her shoulders slumped in defeat. "I'm sorry, Jonathan," she managed to choke out between sobs.

Jonathan's features softened further as he knelt down in front of her, his hand reaching out to gently cup her cheek. "I know you didn't, but that doesn't change the fact that your actions could have had serious consequences," he said softly. "I need you to promise me that you'll never do something like this again."

Y/n nodded, her tears continuing to flow unabated. "I promise, Jonathan. I'll never do anything like this again," she vowed, her voice barely above a whisper.

Jonathan pulled her into a comforting embrace, holding her close as they both sought solace in each other's presence. Despite the turmoil of the moment, there was an unspoken understanding between them.

As Jonathan held her close, Y/n couldn't help but feel like a child, being told off by an adult. She buried her face in his chest, seeking comfort in his embrace while silently chastising herself for her impulsive actions. 

Y/n slowly collected herself, she realized Jonathan's actions were likely meant to be more of a warning to scare her than an actual punishment. As Jonathan pulled away and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead.

"Go clean yourself up," Jonathan said gently. "I need to call Edward."

With a nod, Y/n rose from her place on the floor. She headed off to the shower. Despite feeling shaken by Jonathan's reaction, she couldn't deny the underlying sense of relief that washed over her. Deep down, she knew that his protectiveness stemmed from a place of genuine concern and affection. While his actions had scared her, she understood that they were necessary, a stark reminder of the dangers she had exposed herself to.

As she processed it all, a wave of gratitude washed over her, mingling with a profound sense of dependence on Jonathan. Despite being the cause of her distress, he was also the only one who could soothe her troubled mind. In his arms, she found solace and security, a comforting refuge from the frightening world.

-

Y/n's shower was quick. Stepping out into the dimly lit expanse of the warehouse which she called home, she felt the weight of Jonathan's gaze before she even saw him. He was immersed in his work at the workbench, the soft glow of the computer screen casting shadows across his features.

Intrigued, Y/n approached him, her curiosity piqued by the images flickering across the monitor. As she peered over his shoulder, she caught sight of the video footage from Arkham playing on the screen, her heart skipping a beat at the sight.

"Is this what you called Edward for?" Y/n asked.

Jonathan glanced up, his gaze meeting hers through the lenses of his glasses. “Yes,” he replied simply.

Without a word, he gestured for her to join him, his silent invitation drawing her closer. Tentatively, she settled onto his lap, nestling into his embrace. She felt a sense of familiarity and warmth wash over her, easing the tension that had knotted her muscles.

Together, they watched the footage unfold, the scenes playing out before them like a silent movie. She found herself leaning into him, seeking solace in his touch and the safety of his embrace. His touch was gentle against her skin, his presence a reassuring anchor in the storm of her thoughts.

"I apologize for how I treated you earlier," Jonathan's words were soft against her cheek, his breath warm against her skin.

Y/n offered a faint smile, a silent acknowledgment of his apology while her heart swelled with a mixture of gratitude and relief. “It’s okay,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper as she pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek.

Jonathan leaned his head against her shoulder, his warmth enveloping her like a protective shield against the world. “I shouldn’t be encouraging this, but it looks like you did well… Waylon didn’t seem to mind you,” he observed.

Resting her head against Jonathan's shoulder, she allowed herself a moment of relief, her gaze fixed on the screen before them.  Y/n couldn't help but smile at his words, a sense of accomplishment swelling within her chest.

But her joy was short-lived as Jonathan's expression turned somber, his gaze fixed on the screen as he changed the video. “But I need you to understand the gravity of your actions.”

The images flickered and danced across the surface, a stark reminder of the dangers that lurked in the shadows of Gotham. As the new footage played, revealing the unsettling scene of Waylon's sudden aggression towards a doctor, Y/n's breath caught in her throat. The brutality of the scene sent a shiver down her spine, her eyes widening in shock and disbelief.

“You understand why I was worried now?” Jonathan's voice was soft, yet held authority.

Y/n nodded slowly, her expression reflecting the shock and concern that still lingered within her. “How do we know he won’t do that to you?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly with uncertainty.

“We don’t,” Jonathan admitted. “But I’m going to have to find out how to deal with it, not you.”

A flicker of determination flashed across Y/n's features. “I could do it, you saw how he treated me,” she offered.

Jonathan sighed. “Even with my consent, Arkham would never allow it and I can’t be messing around with the cameras all the time, someone’s going to notice,” he explained with a sigh. “I'll just have to see if I can take him as a patient and work from there.”

In the quiet aftermath of their conversation, Y/n couldn't shake the sense of unease that settled in the pit of her stomach. She just hoped Jonathan would be safe. 

-

Y/n's heart raced with excitement as she slipped out into the night, her footsteps echoing softly in the deserted streets. She knew she probably shouldn't have gone out alone, especially at this hour, but the thought of surprising Jonathan with freshly baked cookies was too enticing to resist. 

With the fear gas canister tucked securely in her pocket, Y/n felt a newfound sense of confidence coursing through her veins. She couldn't help but feel a thrill at the thought of being out on her own, even if just for a short while. 

As she made her way towards the supermarket, the cool night air brushed against her skin, sending a shiver down her spine. Despite the darkness looming around her, Y/n couldn't suppress the smile that tugged at her lips. The walk was only 10 minutes at most and she felt safe with the fear gas given to her by Jonathan.

Sure, there was always the lingering concern of encountering Batman, but Y/n pushed that thought to the back of her mind. After all, she reasoned, the chances of an innocent girl like her crossing paths with the caped crusader twice in in a life time were practically zero.

Picking up groceries from the supermarket was easy enough, and with her bags in hand, Y/n began her journey back home. As she neared the warehouses, however, a sense of unease crept over her like a shadow.

"Stupid nerves," she muttered under her breath, cursing herself for feeling frightened.

Every rustle in the darkness made her heart skip a beat, her senses on high alert for any sign of danger. "Come on, Y/n. It's not like anyone's actually here," she reassured herself, though the words did little to quell her rising anxiety.

But then, just as she was about to dismiss her fears, a voice sliced through the silence from the shadows. “I wouldn’t count on that.” 

Y/n's scream echoed in the night as Batman emerged before her, his imposing figure casting a long shadow in the dim light.

"Are you kidding me?" Y/n spat out, frustrated. This wasn't her first encounter with the Dark Knight, and this time, she wasn't about to cower in fear as there was nothing to fear. 

"Did I startle you?" Batman's question rang hollow in the tense air, almost sarcastically.

"Nah, I just screamed at the fucking moon," Y/n retorted, clearly irritated. All she wanted was to return home and bake her cookies.

Ignoring Batman's presence, Y/n turned on her heel and began to walk away, only for him to step out in front of her. Her heart leaped into her throat, what does he want with her?

"Do you mind?" Y/n asked, attempting to maintain her composure.

"There was footage of you at Arkham," Batman stated bluntly.

Feeling like she was under interrogation, Y/n tried to keep her cool. "How do you know who I am?" she countered.

"You went missing a couple of months ago, hard not to know you," Batman replied evenly.

"I was never missing," Y/n refuted.

"Why were you at Arkham?" Batman pressed on.

"I'm a psychology student at Gotham University. My professor takes me there for learning purposes," Y/n explained, her voice steady despite the tension.

"You're rather close to this Professor," Batman observed.

"He's a friend. I'm the only student that ever attends the office hours, so he knows me well," Y/n replied, the words carrying a hint of defensiveness. It wasn't entirely a lie.

"Some of the footage at Arkham was altered, footage of you, I assume," Batman's words sent a chill down her spine. 

“Cool…and?” Y/n pretended not to care, trying to hide her nerves, but she was running out of excuses.

“I managed to uncover that footage. What were you doing in the basement?” Batman's tone was firm, demanding answers.

“I was curious,” Y/n replied vaguely, hoping to deflect his questions.

“Curious of Killer Croc?” Batman pressed, his voice laced with suspicion.

“Naturally,” Y/n answered, keeping her responses brief.

“Are you aware of how dangerous a man like Killer Croc is?” Batman's question was stern.

“Yeah, my professor drilled that message into me afterwards, but he attacks doctors, not visitors, so I thought I’d be safe, and clearly, I was.” Y/n explained, attempting to rationalize her actions to Batman.

“Why did you look for Killer Croc?” Batman's interrogation continued.

“I told you, curiosity,” Y/n repeated, her tone firm despite the rising tension.

"No one does something as dangerous as that out of curiosity," Batman's words hung heavy in the air.

Y/n's chest tightened with a mixture of frustration and anger. His statement struck a nerve. 

"Well, maybe that's the problem with you," she countered sharply, her voice laced with anger. "You only see these people as enemies and dangerous. No wonder Waylon attacks the doctors, it's people like you that drill the message that Waylon’s a monster into people's heads."

With determination flashing in her eyes, Y/n pushed past Batman, her steps purposeful as she continued walking. But even in her departure, a lingering sense of conviction halted her stride. She pivoted on her heel, facing Batman once more.

"He’s no monster," she said, her voice ringing out in the stillness of the night. "He’s just like any other patient at Arkham. Everyone has a bad day now and then."

With her chin held high and her words echoing in the alley, Y/n turned away from Batman, striding off into the shadows with an air of defiance and self-assurance.

As Y/n finally arrived home, the weight of the encounter with Batman settled heavily upon her shoulders. The realization of what had transpired washed over her like a cold wave, sending a shiver down her spine. 

"Great, now Batman's probably going to be keeping an eye on me," she muttered to herself, a knot of worry forming in her chest.

But she quickly pushed aside her worry, forcing herself to focus on the task at hand. With a determined sigh, she managed to bury her concerns for the time being and instead try to distract herself.

"Let's just make those cookies for Jonathan," she said aloud, mustering a faint smile in an attempt to reassure herself.

Y/n wondered whether to disclose her encounter with Batman to Jonathan. The idea of revealing such a tense exchange left her feeling hesitant, unsure of how he would react. However, she knew one thing for certain. She couldn't afford to let her guard down. Not anymore.

-

A/N: Holy fuck, am I glad to post part five to this fic, sorry it took so long 💚

A bit boring, this part, but I wanted to post this part and I had a loT planed for this part, but decided it would not only take too long but it would be so long for one chapter, so I broke it up into two parts.

I hope you like where this fic is headed and are excited for the next part (Whenever that might be 💀)

I wrote Batman in here with the Animated Series!Batman in mind, so if he doesn't seem like Nolan!Batman, that's why (although, I don't even know if I did it that well). But yeah, I tend to write for different characters from different universes and just hope they play out well :p

I was watching "Love is a Croc" episode (one of my favorite) while writing this, so i kinda had him in mind while writing. Still mad how he betrayed Babydoll light that 😤 but Waylon my baby, so I forgive him.

I have a lot of other requests to get through first and assignments (not month I am on break, so I'll be able to write more often)

Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed :)

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Alex Samuels at Daily Kos:

President Donald Trump has always embraced a branding opportunity. It makes sense, then, that he would upend decades of tradition and plan to offer corporate sponsorships for the White House’s annual Easter Egg Roll.  Gone are the days of shoving former White House press secretary Sean Spicer into an Easter bunny costume for a quick laugh. Now, Trump wants to transform the annual Easter Egg Roll—which is funded through private donations, not taxpayer dollars—into a profit-making scheme where corporations can essentially purchase goodwill with his administration.  According to reports from CNN and The New York Times, which viewed a nine-page guide available for potential sponsors, companies willing to pay between $75,000 and $200,000 can earn perks such as branding rights, having their logos or names featured on event signage, and mentions in social media posts and press releases.  The most expensive package—Platinum—includes “branding for a key area or activation,” 150 tickets to the event (100 general admission, plus 50 VIP), and exclusive tickets to an invitation-only brunch inside the White House with first lady Melania Trump. “Be a part of history,” reads the guide, written by the aptly named event production company, Harbinger, based out of Washington, D.C. The memo directs sponsors to “provide financial support, activities, and giveaways to enhance the event while gaining valuable brand visibility and national recognition.” The White House didn’t immediately respond to Daily Kos’ request for comment. If this proceeds, it would mark the first time a presidential administration has sought sponsors for the Easter Egg Roll in nearly 150 years. This year’s event is scheduled for April 21.  However, there’s a reason past administrations haven’t sought to blur the line between the private sector and the government: doing so raises numerous legal and ethical concerns. For one, federal regulations prohibit government employees from using their public offices for personal gain or “for the endorsement of any product, service, or enterprise.”

[...] Then again, Trump and his family are known for flouting norms and seeking opportunities to earn a quick buck. Recall that earlier this month, Trump held an infomercial on the White House lawn, where he promoted Elon Musk’s Teslas and encouraged Americans to buy his billionaire friend's overpriced and unsafe cars after the automaker’s stock plummeted. Before that, in January, Trump and Melania launched their own meme coin, $Trump, which was branded with his likeness, just before the president’s January inauguration.  According to CNN, which cited a second source familiar with the planning of this year’s Easter Egg Roll, one sponsor has already been identified for the festivities while other “successful conservations” are underway. 

Everything Trump Touches Dies comes to the Easter Egg Roll on the South Lawn of The White House, as corporate sponsorships are being floated.

See Also:

The Guardian: Trump White House will put sponsor’s name on Easter Egg Roll for $200,000

The Hill, via NewsNation: White House seeks corporate sponsorships for Easter Egg Roll: Report

[cityof2morrow]

CDK: Build Accents

Published: 9-15-2024 | Updated: N/A SUMMARY Cubic Dynamics by John B. Cube and Marcel Dusims forged the future with furnishings that were minimalist in design and maximalist in erudite pretension. Generations later, the company continues to produce edge-of-cutting-edge designs. Use the Cubic Dynamics Kitbash (Simmons, 2023-2024) collection to set up corporate, exposition, and office environments. Envisioned as an add-on to the Cubic Dynamics set (EA/Maxis, archived at GOS), it features minimalist and retro-futuristic objects. Find more CC on this site under the #co2cdkseries tag. Read the Backstory and ‘Dev Notes’ HERE. Here is a compilation of BUILD ACCENTS, older windows, doors, and decorative window/door frames which have been repo’d to use the same color scheme as the rest of the CDK series – this way, the exteriors and interiors of your offices will match. Remember to replace original files. See the compatibility note at the end of this post.

DETAILS All EPs/SPs. §See Catalog for Pricing | See Buy/Build Mode You need the Company Expo (Mesh Pack) set (Simmons, 2024) for TXTRs to show properly in game.For the glass, you need the Plain Glass TXTR Repository from my Repo Pack (Simmons, 2023). All files with “MESH” in their name REQUIRED for textures/models to display correctly in-game. ITEMS Deco Door Arches (Single/Double/Diagonals) (360 poly) 4ESF’s Doors & Windows (112-124 poly) Cyclonesue’s Never-Ending/Privacy Windows/Arch (68-112 poly) ShinySims’ Modern Windows (12-482 poly) Tiggy027 Window Frames (24-108 poly) DOWNLOAD (choose one) from SFS | from MEGA COMPATIBILITY AVOID DUPLICATES: The #co2cdkseries includes edited versions – replacements - for items in the following CC sets: 4ESF (office 3, other 1/artroom, other 2/build), All4Sims/MaleorderBride (miskatonic library, office, postmodern office), CycloneSue (never ending/privacy windows), derMarcel (inx office), Katy76/PC-Sims (bank/cash point, court/law school sets, sim cola machine), Marilu (immobilien office), Murano (ador office), Reflex Sims (giacondo office), Retail Sims/HChangeri (simEx, sps store), Simgedoehns/Tolli (focus kitchen, loft office, modus office), ShinySims (modern windows), SH (reverie office, step boxes/shelving), Spaik (sintesi study), Stylist Sims (offices 1,2, & 3, Toronto set), Tiggy027 (wall window frames 1-10), Wall Sims (holly architecture, Ibiza). *The goal is to link the objects to the recolors/new functions in the #co2cdkseries without re-inventing the wheel! Credit to the original creators. CREDITS Thanks: ChocolateCitySim, HugeLunatic, Klaartje, Ocelotekatl, Whoward69, LoganSimmingWolf, Gayars, Ch4rmsing, Ranabluu, Gummilutt, Crisps&Kerosene, LordCrumps, PineappleForest. Sources: Any Color You Like (CuriousB, 2010), Beyno (Korn via BBFonts), EA/Maxis, Offuturistic Infographic (Freepik). SEE CREDITS (ALT)

[faketrex]

a police station in a foreign country for the setting prompts if you're still taking them <3

Thank you, grace! 💝 For prompt number 13, "a police station in a foreign country."

RWRB, firstprince, featuring Henry throwing a punch, Alex scheming, and a fair amount of silliness. Post-canon, pre-bonus chapter.

...

“You can't punch him, you're a prince of fucking England,” Alex hisses.

It pains him to say it, obviously. The asshole standing in front of them has a punchable face–and extremely punch-worthy homophobic, xenophobic, racist opinions. It's not the first time they've had to just stand and listen to this kind of crap, but it never gets any easier.

Hell, Alex might take a swing himself if he didn't know for a fact that it would get him ushered out of England kicking and screaming, cursed to a life of long-distance love, groveling to his mom, and praying that one day, someday, Henry might escape the clutches of the monarchy and join him in the U.S. and–

“A prince,” Henry says mildly, in a tone that Alex has only heard once before, “me? You must be mistaken.”

And he hauls back his fist.

“Fucking–Henry!”

It's a solid punch.

☆☆☆

The less said about the next few hours, the better.

It doesn't really matter that Henry's a prince and Alex is the First Son of the United States. Or, well, it does, but only in the sense that when they're sitting in the police station, butts going numb in uncomfortable plastic chairs, they've got a whole entourage with them. There are three PPOs and two Secret Service officers, and the way Zahra keeps blowing up Alex's phone, she probably counts as present, too.

The chair he's sitting in squeaks obnoxiously when Alex leans over to whisper to Henry. “You know, if we had one more person on our side, we'd be a baseball team.”

“More's the pity that we're in England, not America, I suppose.”

“I don't know. If you were dead set on punching a fuckhead in the face, I think it's good you did it in England. I mean, your family must own all the dungeons here, right? When they lock you away, it'll be like home sweet home.”

Henry lets out a huff. “You realize we're not actually living in the Middle Ages, don't you?”

“Fuck that. If cops today could still use the rack, they would, in a heartbeat. And you can quote me on–”

Two chairs down, Amy clears her throat loudly.

“I mean,” Alex backpedals, “I mean. I sure do love sitting here quietly in a foreign police station and not stirring up shit.”

“Don't we all,” Henry sighs, rubbing at his bruised knuckles.

☆☆☆

The asshole guy–the punchee–says he won't press charges, to which the royal family replies that it will graciously agree to the same. It's a weird response that Alex isn't thinking too hard about tonight. Yeah, the guy had been a shithead, but Henry had been the one to throw hands. Technically, Henry's at fault here, unless–

“Are you like a swan?”

Henry has a cold, wet washcloth covering his face, but his confusion is audible through the fabric. “Pardon?”

“Like, if someone touches the Queen's swans, they're guilty, probably even if the swans were trying to fucking beak them or whatever. So I thought–”

“Alex–”

“Is it the same with you?” Alex twists sideways on the couch, watching as Henry peels the washcloth off his face. “Do you have honorary swan status?”

“I know how you feel about large birds, Alex.”

“This isn't about that!”

“No, I do not have ‘honorary swan status,’” Henry says. “I'm just one of the latest in a long line of unnecessary archaic figureheads who can behave badly and, it seems, get away with it.”

“That dick fucking deserved it.”

“Nevertheless.”

“Where'd you learn to punch like that? Dueling classes at Eton?”

“Boxing club at Oxford, actually.”

“No way. Seriously?”

“I had a crush on an instructor.” Even though he looks exhausted, one corner of Henry's mouth lifts upward. “If I recall correctly, I trained for three or four months before dropping it as a lost cause.”

“Punching people wasn't your cup of tea, huh?”

“Despite appearances otherwise today, no. And anyway, the instructor was hopelessly straight.”

“Lucky for you, I'm not,” Alex says, leaning in to kiss him.

When they break apart, Henry seems sheepish. “I still shouldn't have done it.”

“We can't change that now, but here's the game plan. The next time someone spews toxic, hateful abuse at us, we'll have two options.”

“Option one?”

Alex holds up one finger. “Option one: we leave. Doesn't matter where we are or who we're supposed to be impressing or whatever. If it sucks, hit the bricks, as the internet says.”

“And option two?”

Alex uses the finger he's already holding up to point at his own face. “Option two: I kiss you. It's a classic distraction move. Option two is also valid no matter where we are or who we're supposed to be impressing. Both options mean we won't have to listen to the bullshit.”

“I'm afraid the Queen would hate either. In fact, I'm not sure which would rile her more: our kissing in public or simply… walking away, refusing to be subject to the invective.”

“Exactly. It's a win-win for us on multiple levels.”

The expression on Henry's face is brighter than it has been all day. That, too, is a major win for Alex. “You're truly a force to be reckoned with, love, do you know that?”

“Yeah,” Alex agrees, “I'm a one-two punch. But, like, the metaphorical kind. Now come here so I can kiss you again.”

[katt-behind-the-muse]

Hello! Welcome to my hub!

So I have a lot of accounts, and I decided to make a hub to organise everything and to have a place to scheme.

There will also be arc alerts here! If you enjoy my blogs, I recommend you pay attention here!

As for personal details, I'm Katt, she/they, adult, I love Hawlucha if you can't tell by the blog theme and consistently have :3 floating around in my head like a DVD screensaver that has not hit the corner yet.

I'll use the tag 【Rotomblr hub】 throughout, plus the respective blog tag or 【Katt's Musings】 per post. I also now have 【Katt's Ballification Beam】 where I do little ball doodles of people's characters!

Below will be my blogs as well as links leading to masterlists for each one respectively!

If a blog is a primary blog, it'll have a ⭐️ next to it and a respective emoji! If it's a secondary blog, it'll have the emoji of the one it links to!

NOTE: "Active" is used pretty loosely with my blogs, so if you don't see a few posts for a few days, don't worry, I'll get some out eventually! :>

EXTRA NOTE: On a monthly basis, on a weekend, I visit my partner, so if my activity stops during that time, that's why.

The Blogs:

⭐️🪄 @gaia-channel - [MASTERLIST GUIDE HERE] - My first Rotomblr blog so has content from where my skills were a bit rusty. This is also where I will like and follow from primarily! Based on the Ferrum League + general Ferrum cast! [ACTIVITY STATUS: SEMI-ACTIVE]

🪄 @keiths-fashion-corner - [MASTERLIST GUIDE HERE] - A personal side blog for Keith, Ferrum League Member and famous model! [ACTIVITY STATUS: ACTIVE]

🪄 @blueberry-academy-official - [MASTERLIST GUIDE HERE] - The official social media blog for Blueberry Academy, run by Travis, Ferrum League Member and Cyrano's nephew! [ACTIVITY STATUS: SEMI-ACTIVE]

🪄 @thetuxedohawlucha - [MASTERLIST GUIDE HERE] - A blog run by a talking Hawlucha, based in Circhester with his trainer, who is actually me! [ACTIVITY STATUS: SEMI-ACTIVE]

🪄 @essence-unlimited - [MASTERLIST GUIDE HERE] - A blog for my fan region, Yufaria! The blog also features a small handful of canon characters! [ACTIVITY STATUS: ACTIVE]

🪄 @official-team-trident - [MASTERLIST GUIDE HERE] - A blog for Yufaria's evil team, lead by Shrieker/Silas, a dwarf Psychic wanting to prove himself! [ACTIVITY STATUS: SEMI-ACTIVE]

🪄 @ctrl-alt-roman - [MASTERLIST GUIDE HERE] - A blog for Roman, the ex-Team Trident tech expert, also accompanied by his boyfriend and the Prince who is protecting him! [ACTIVITY STATUS: ACTIVE]

🪄 @champ-cabinet - [MASTERLIST GUIDE HERE] - A blog for all of the champions, including some original characters! [ACTIVITY STATUS: ACTIVE]

🪄 @office-b-help - [MASTERLIST GUIDE HERE] - A blog run by B, a licensed therapist, who is actually the Ultra Beast, Buzzwole! [ACTIVITY STATUS: ACTIVE]

🪄 @literal-arc-real - [MASTERLIST GUIDE HERE] - A blog run by...Arceus?! Here after being pestered by his colleagues (employees?)! [ACTIVITY STATUS: ACTIVE]

🪄 @finn-the-rogue - [MASTERLIST GUIDE HERE] - A blog run by Finn, one of the rival duo of Rogue Towers, the in universe location for PokéRogue! [ACTIVITY STATUS: ACTIVE]

⭐️🏳️‍⚧️ @tobias-the-legend - [MASTERLIST GUIDE HERE] - My previously most active blog, run by Tobias, one of the fandom's most hated rivals, striving for his dream acting career! When he's not running the blog, Darkrai takes over! [ACTIVITY STATUS: SEMI-ACTIVE]

⭐️💢 @augustine-key - [MASTERLIST GUIDE HERE] - A blog run by Professor Augustine Sycamore and his boyfriend, Monsieur Pierre! [ACTIVITY STATUS: PARTLY INACTIVE]

Bonus Blog:

🌎🪄 @miitopia-rotomblr - A Miitopia run with Rotomblr's muses! [UPDATES ON WEDNESDAYS AT MINIMUM]

Active Events:

[ His Open Mind ]

Active Arcs (Owning):

[ Bring Forth The Hell Scream ]

Active Arcs (Participating):

[ Wishmade Sky ]

Other Resources:

[ Mii QR Codes ]

[vraisetzen]

𝐖𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐔𝐤𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞'𝐬 𝐁𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐚𝐢 𝐢𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐨𝐤𝐚𝐲.

I often find myself disagreeing with the wider Bleach fandom whenever the topic of Ukitake comes up — specifically fans who wished they saw his Bankai before his death.

I have never been one for powerscaling, and probably never will be — I do see how it can be fun or interesting to have a consistent and accurate barometer of abilities against which one can compare, but what is important to me isn't the strength of a character's Bankai/Domain Expansion/insert-relevant-power. It is how they fight, and how they overcome the perceived and obvious weaknesses to their abilities that I find more compelling.

Ukitake, as someone who was chronically and terminally ill, and never participated in any major fights save for one (and was promptly removed from battle), thus frustrates many powerscalers: What did Yamamoto meant when he said him and Shunsui were equals? What was he capable of when he's not ill? Or better yet — if he was never ill?

However, it bears reminding that Ukitake was a respected member of the Gotei 13 — I cannot imagine Yama-jii and Central 46 accepting his post if they were skeptical of his abilities; they could have also removed him from his rank as easily as they appointed him (not that this would happen without much protest from his junior officers and fellow Captains).

And more importantly, Ukitake's illness is a part of him — in the same way that Mimihagi resides in his body, extending his life when he should have died as a child. To paraphrase a line from Stephen Sondheim's Fosca, sickness is to him as health is to others. To dwell on these fruitless counterhistories is to ignore a vital part of him.

But I digress.

Still, I understand this curiosity surrounding Ukitake's Bankai — it falls under a more general desire to want to know more about his character, and his past, especially when we know a lot more about Shunsui.

However, for better or for worse, Ukitake's character was never meant to take centre stage. He was only ever tangentially related to the story's main events through Rukia and Kaien, and even his relationship with the former struggles at creating an impression. In fact, his first proper appearance being that of hearing about Aizen's passing whilst bedridden sets up his entire character for the entirety of Bleach: he is there, and he is someone important, but in the grand scheme of things, he is insignificant until the time came for him to to sacrifice himself.

Is this bad writing? Possibly, but in a work featuring an ensemble of characters, many of whom possess extraordinary ability and skill, Ukitake's illness and limited time on the battlefield sets him apart. He is a reminder of the vulnerabilities that can plague even the most hardened warriors of the Soul Society, and that anyone, no matter how small or weak, can prove vital to a story.

Maybe Ukitake did have a Bankai, but it would deplete so much of his health that he was better off not using it, and thus we were unfortunate enough to have never seen it. Or maybe he did not have a Bankai, and that would raise even more questions about his Shikai and true potential.

Regardless of which, I would like to think that Jushiro would prefer to be remembered for his kindness, his fondness for his younger subordinates, and his wisdom, to being lamented as someone who should have been given more time to do so much more.

[eddieisashifter]

— THE 5 SENSES (WAKING UP IN MY SIX OF CROWS DR)

(inspired by this post by @jadeshifting!!)

⋆༺𓆩🗡 SIGHT

— I slowly blink and come back to consciousness and the first thing I see is the flickering candlelight of kaz's office. it casts long shadows over the desk, sofas, and stacks of books across the room. the shadows flicker across kaz's sharp features, scheming face apparent.

— the deep red fabric of the arm of the sofa I fell asleep on, and the arm that I used to prop my head up. there's a scar on the back of my pale hand, peeking out from underneath my arm wraps.

— the window is cracked open, rain drips down the glass. I can see the harbor in the distance over ketterdam's rooftops. ships move about, even late into the evening. the city never sleeps.

⋆༺𓆩🗡 SOUND

— the raindrops thudding against the metal roof. I can hear each droplet as it collides with the rooftop of the crow club, only few above my head

— the scratching of a pen nip against parchment as kaz is hard at work at his desk. I hear him murmuring to himself quietly, words unable to be made out, likely planning our next scheme.

— the muffled noise of conversation downstairs, bleeding through the cracks in the door. the clinking of glasses at the bar and the shuffling of chips at the tables. the late-night inhabitants of the crow club busy as ever. jazzy music barely escapes blending into the rest of the noise.

⋆༺𓆩🗡 SMELL

— the faint hint of smoke from the long-burning candles. plus a slight twinge of burnt paper, likely from kaz disposing of something

— the moisture of fresh rain seeping in from the open window, just able to be smelt beneath the dominant scent of smoke and old paper

— a slight scent of alcohol and cigarettes rising from the downstairs club, a familiar scent of debauchery

⋆༺𓆩🗡 FEEL

— the soft fabric of the sofa I fell asleep on, it's slightly indented—I must have been here for quite awhile

— the warm weight of a blanket over my back that wasn't there when I first dozed off

— a chill breeze blowing in from the open window and ruffling my hair slightly, prompting to pull my blanket up higher

— the slight energy in the air of matter in action, the makeup of the shadows covering the room, crackling slightly with an energy you could reach out and touch

— soreness from an injury from a couple days ago to my shoulder, exasperated by sleeping on the sofa instead of my bed. it will be stiff until I stretch it

⋆༺𓆩🗡 TASTE

— the slightly humid but cold fresh air from the window, it comes in through my nose and fills my throat and mouth. it leaves a dryness in the back of my throat

— the lingering taste of the drink kaz and I shared when I first came up to his office tonight, a sweet and bitter alcohol.

[greelys-corner]

A "Short" Summary of the Greely Expedition

Long post below the cut!

The Lady Franklin Bay Expedition of 1881 to 1884 is a story of endurance and suffering to rival any entry in the annals of polar exploration history. It was triumphant in its stated goals, both scientific and exploratory, only to meet with tragedy in its conclusion. Little known by the American public today, those who do know of this unique event in United States history often know it as the Greely Expedition, after commanding officer Lieutenant Adolphus Washington Greely. It was Greely’s name, rather than the powerful government and military institutions charged with supporting the project, that would become most strongly associated with the gruesome events that unfolded in the final days of the expedition.

The primary stated aim of the Greely Expedition was scientific advancement. Specifically, the expedition was one of two American teams to participate in the International Polar Year (IPY), a first-of-its-kind international effort helmed by Austrian explorer Karl Weyprecht to coordinate synchronous scientific observations of the arctic regions across long distances. Officially conducted from 1882 to 1883, the first IPY featured twelve research stations from 11 countries. Of these, the Lady Franklin Bay Expedition would be the furthest north of the stations, on Ellesmere Island in northern Canada opposite the western coast of Greenland.

This area of Ellesmere Island had been identified as a suitable location for a base several years prior by Henry Howgate, an intermediate officer in the newly formed US Army Signal Corps who had long held schemes for arctic colonization. From 1875 to 1881, Howgate made several attempts to launch his “colony” (in reality a small occupied site that would have been fully dependent on regular supply deliveries and support from native Greenlanders) via a mix of congressional funding and private income streams of unclear origins. As the IPY project gained traction and recruited participating nations, Howgate saw the chance to realize his polar ambitions by pivoting to a scientific angle, at least officially. At his side throughout this period was Howgate’s protege, Adolphus Greely, a young Civil War veteran in whom Howgate nurtured an enthusiasm for arctic exploration.

With the support of the Signal Corps’ leadership, Howgate and Greely slowly advanced their venture through congressional appropriations bills and Army authorizations, often securing contracts and recruiting personnel before receiving official permission. Outfitting the expedition also proved challenging: Greely struggled to hold vendors to the terms of their supply contracts and to secure a ship, and even the journey north in July 1881 was marked by insubordination among the enlistees and the dismissal and replacement of several expedition members. Perhaps ominously, the ultimate purpose of the expedition was nebulous to the public, press, and US officials, who variously and intermittently referred to the expedition as Howgate’s colony, Weyprecht’s scientific survey, a scheme to break the record for furthest north, and a search party for the USS Jeanette, which had vanished in the north arctic sea ice just a few years earlier.

On August 11, 1881, the 25-member expedition arrived at Lady Franklin Bay in the northern part of Ellesmere Island and established their base, which they named Fort Conger. A month later, having overseen the construction of the fort and waited for an open lane in the sea ice, the ship that had delivered the expedition finally steamed away from Fort Conger, giving many expedition members their last sight of the outside world.

From August 1881 to August 1883, the expedition at Fort Conger made approximately 500 daily observations on meteorology, geomagnetism, geology, astronomy, tidal patterns, and other subjects. They collected and cataloged hundreds of plant, animal, and mineral samples, and set a new record for farthest north, seizing a record the British had held for nearly 300 years. They broke the monotony of their isolated existence with birthday parties, sporting competitions, and a polar newsletter titled Arctic Moon. They suffered from snow blindness and polar hysteria while avoiding serious cases of frostbite and scurvy. Inevitably, they felt the loneliness of their isolation, and when their first arctic summer came in 1882, they took turns hiking to a good vantage point to watch for the relief ship that would bring a taste of the world back home.

But the relatively smooth trip north in 1881 had belied the challenges that would face the subsequent resupply missions. The expedition’s most vocal advocate, Henry Howgate, had resigned from the US Army shortly before being indicted on embezzlement charges and fleeing federal custody with the aid of his mistress. US Army Secretary Robert Todd Lincoln had a personal distaste for arctic exploration schemes and was slow to authorize the organization, provisioning, and staffing of the relief ships. Finally, encroaching sea ice would turn back the relief ship in 1882 and sink one of two relief ships in 1883 (necessitating rescue by it’s companion ship). Meanwhile, Lieutenant Greely’s orders in the event that a relief ship failed to reach them were clear: the party was to abandon Fort Conger and retreat south, relying on supply caches that were also spelled out in the official orders. He was unaware that neither relief mission had been successful in landing more than a few small caches of rations, far less than specified in Greely’s orders, along this coastal path.

The expedition at Fort Conger was in good health and stocked with ample rations and fresh game to survive another year in the arctic, but morale among the group was suffering badly after two years of isolation and innumerable personal and professional disputes. Multiple members had been disbarred or demoted, Greely quarreled with and nearly arrested the expedition’s physician, and on one occasion early in their stay Greely had brandished his firearm and threatened to court martial and shoot the enlisted men for failing to volunteer for laundry duty. The men bristled against the confines of the arctic climate and the commanding officer’s strict policies, and the officers’ meals were rendered silent and hostile by mutual dislike. Furthermore, there had been a few instances of stolen rations; mainly canned sweets and fruit, but nonetheless a worrying sign of how the group would fare if they remained another winter.

On August 9, 1883, Greely gave the order to evacuate Fort Conger. The men crammed what supplies and personal effects they could into four ship’s boats, leaving behind most of their food and equipment. All 23 of the expedition’s sled dogs were abandoned at the site to survive as they could on a few barrels of provisions left open and scattered on the snow. Most of the scientific equipment, preserved specimens, and geological samples were also left behind, with the exception of a few portable pieces of meteorological gear, a cumbersome gravimeter pendulum, and the many volumes of data collected over two years.

The success of the expedition’s 250-mile journey south to a predetermined meeting point at Cape Sabine was dependent on two main factors: open lanes in the ice and the presence of large supply caches that were supposed to have been deposited by the relief ships. Within days of their departure, however, the group was slowed and frequently brought to a halt by large, fast-moving ice floes that threatened to catch and crush the boats. When the expedition found areas of open sea, they also encountered fog that slowed their progress to a crawl for lack of visibility. In the final stages of their journey, the expedition resorted to traveling atop an ice floe on the prayer that it would carry them southwest. The floe could have easily carried them east to certain death in the middle of the Kane Basin, but instead they were landed approximately 20 miles south of Cape Sabine on September 23, 1883.

The party built rudimentary shelters where they landed and sent out small teams to scout for cairns marking the promised caches. By October 19, the expedition had managed to piece together the truth of their circumstances via notes from the relief parties and fragments of newspaper: the relief efforts had ended in disaster and the promised supplies amounted to only a fraction of what had been requested in Greely’s carefully specific retreat plans. Their survival would now depend on their ability to hunt game and secure the rations from a few more scant caches left by the failed relief ships and previous British expeditions. Functionally stranded, they would also have to retain hope for a third relief attempt.

Greely ordered a cairn made of the party’s scientific data and equipment, with the heavy gravimeter pendulum erected at the top to serve as a sunlit beacon. From there the expedition established a site for long-term encampment, named Camp Clay. Here they converted one of their boats into the domed roof of a shelter, which they walled with stone and sailcloth. This shelter, which measured less than 25 feet (7.6 meters) long inside thick walls, was 4 feet (1.2 meters) high at its tallest point. There was no standing room inside, and barely enough clearance nearest the walls for each man to sit upright. Here they hunkered down, shoulder to shoulder in twin rows of sleeping bags. For the next nine months, they would spend the majority of their time in this damp, dark hut, choking on fumes from a meager stove and daydreaming with increasing desperation about food. The first death from malnutrition, partially attributable to scurvy, was that of Sergeant William Cross on January 18, 1884.

The expedition members tried desperately to increase their daily ration. The hunters of the group went out every day that the weather allowed, and were granted precious additional ounces of bacon, bread, and soup to fuel their efforts. Sergeant David Brainard found a reliable site on the coast approximately half a mile from Camp Clay for harvesting sea lice, minuscule crustacean-like animals that he called shrimp. Though daily “shrimping” could yield several pounds of the creatures, most of their mass was an in-digestible chitinous shell that wrought havoc on the party’s gastrointestinal tracts. One attempt at a cache of food left by the 1875 Nares Expedition was foiled when Corporal Joseph Elison developed severe frostbite on the journey; he would lose both feet and several fingers from each hand from the resulting complications. Another attempt at the cache cost the life of expedition photographer Sergeant George Rice. Jens Edwards, a native Greenlander and one of two dog-drivers and hunters on the expedition, drowned while attempting to retrieve a seal in his kayak, the small craft most likely having been damaged from dragging over new ice.

A few successful hunts – sporadic seabirds and foxes, a few seals, and one polar bear – prolonged their lives. As these food sources dwindled, however, “food” became whatever was conceivably edible, such as hide sleeping bags, caterpillars, and stearine, a solid cooking fuel derived from animal fats and vegetable oils. Some begged Greely for permission to eat leftover tea leaves. Others resorted to ptarmigan droppings.

By June 1884, the fourteen remaining expedition members had moved to a tent on a hill near the place where they had buried their dead comrades. Here the improved sunlight provided a grain of comfort, and they were much closer to the burial grounds. In total, eighteen men of the 25-member expedition would die in the months following their arrival at Cape Sabine. At first, the expedition members had strength enough to sufficiently bury their dead, but as their rations shrank ever further the graves became shallower and shoddier, until the party had to resort to laying its dead in ridges of rock and ice crevasses. Most died of starvation, signaled hours or days in advance by delirious, incoherent rambling. One man, Private Charles Henry, was shot under court martial for repeatedly stealing food; David Brainard’s diary entry on the event suggests that his death went unmourned.

On June 22, 1884, a small advance party from two rescue ships, the Thetis and the Bear, arrived at the scene, led there by the message Greely wrote in the pendulum cairn south of Cape Sabine. They found seven survivors: Greely, Brainard, Henry Biederbick, Maurice Connell, Julius Frederick, Francis Long, and, astonishingly, Joseph Ellison, who had survived without hands or feet on the kindness and attention of his companions. Tragically, however, Ellison’s wounds would become septic in the warmth of the Thetis below deck, and he would die of infection on July 8.

The six final survivors were gradually fed to health over a slow trip south, arriving at Portsmouth Harbor, New Hampshire, on August 1. Their initial reception, both locally and in the international press, was effusive and positive; they were regarded as heroes returned from the grave, to be toasted with parades and accolades. But public opinion soon soured as details about bodies of the recovered dead emerged. Of the eleven bodies recovered from Camp Clay, six showed cut marks and missing flesh; grim suggestions of cannibalism. This evidence quickly exploded into sensational tales of expedition members murdering each other for food and half-eaten corpses strewn about the rescue camp, stories which were often attributed to firsthand sources among the rescue party. The US Army and Navy did little to quell the rumors, and the quasi-official statement on the matter was that some flesh from the dead might have been harvested to use as bait for sea lice. The expedition survivors had even less to say, collectively claiming not to have known of or witnessed any cannibalism. Rumors and sensationalized accounts about the events at Camp Clay would continue to circulate, but public excitement would ebb, and many publications were critical of the “yellow journalism” sensationalism that was common for the era. Others in the press defended the practice of survival cannibalism as a necessary evil, for which the survivors should not be persecuted.

Though data collected during the Lady Franklin Bay Expedition’s time at Fort Conger would not be fully appreciated in its time, today it forms a small part of the large body of evidence in support of man-made climate change. The expedition also yielded its own insights, alongside other polar disasters such as Ernest Shackleton’s 1914 Endurance voyage, into the psychology of isolation and effective ways that remote research stations could provide enrichment and support group morale. Lastly, the ambiguous beginning and ignominious end of the Greely Expedition gave the United States Army a strong aversion to future expeditions; a silver lining in one of the most striking tragedies in the history of polar exploration.

References:

Guttridge, Leonard F. Ghosts of Cape Sabine: The Harrowing True Story of the Greely Expedition. Berkley Books, 2000.

Levy, Buddy. Labyrinth of Ice: The Triumphant and Tragic Greely Polar Expedition. St. Martin’s Griffin, 2019.

National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration. The First International Polar Year – History. n.d. retrieved from: https://www.pmel.noaa.gov/arctic-zone/ipy-1/History.htm

Public Broadcasting Service (PBS). The Greely Expedition – Timeline. n.d. retrieved from: https://www.pbs.org/wgbh/americanexperience/features/greely-expedition/

Reck, Stephen N. “The Greely Sensation”: Arctic Exploration and the Press. 2018. Retrieved from: https://scholarworks.uvm.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1259&context=hcoltheses

Virtual Museum of Canada. Katers Pendulum. n.d. retrieved from: https://fortconger.org/page/jeu-game/1

Wikipedia. The First International Polar Year. Last edited January 1, 2025. retrieved from: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/International_Polar_Year

[usertransducks]

DCRC Week 1 or "Ducks Tries Not To Spoil His Second Favorite Comic Series"

I've been ready to write the post for PKNA #0: EVRONIANS since day 1 but I was trying to do it without spoiling future issues. I'll be summarizing the issue while adding my own thoughts!

Just a heads up that my blog won't be spoiler-free because I reblog a lot of fan art!

We're immediately introduced to our main hero and villains for the series on the cover; the long-time favorite Paperinik, known as "The Duck Avenger" in English, and the titular Evronians. It has that 90s dark Sci-Fi feel that tells the reader that this series will be somewhat different from the usual PK stories they've read before.

The issue starts out with the invasion of an, at this time, unnamed planet by an Evronian fleet.

Although most of the people we see end up getting cool-flamed, at the end of the segment we see there is at least one survivor. They'll be important later (and I can't wait!!!!!!)

After that, we transition to Duckburg! Its time to learn about the city's favorite sitcom, Anxieties, and finally meet up with PK. Unfortunately, the actress Duckie Starry ends up being attacked by cool-flames, who are a bit stronger than PK's usual foes.

After an Evronian flies off with the cool-flames, we encounter the guy whose figure is super expensive on eBay and he orders the absorption of PK's emotions.

(why are you so expensive *cries*)

The next morning, Donald's tv time is interrupted by a call from Scrooge, who has bought Ducklair Tower and wants Donald to work there. We learn the Everett Ducklair is missing and Scrooge bought all his stuff at an auction.

Donald is put in charge of custodial of all 150 floors of the tower, but because Donald is just like me fr he ends up counting all the floors and realizing there are 151 floors instead.

We see inside the offices of Channel 00, where we have to, unfortunately, meet Angus Fangus in exchange for meeting the platonic love of my life, Lyla Lay. She is one of my 3 favorite female characters in PKNA and I regularly want to fight characters who mistreat her in a Family Dollar parking lot. Expect a lot of gushing about her when we get to later issues 👍

Angus goes to harass Donald because he's a known friend of PK (established in the older PK comics) and we get to meet Camera 9!!!! I love him and there is a fic shipping him with Donald that I have in my Mark For Later list to read tonight. Camera 9 tells Donald that the actor Brad van Beck is missing, although Angus claims that he never speaks.

That night PK breaks into the 151st floor and we finally meet the whole reason why I try to get people to read PKNA:

UNO!!!!!!!!!!! 🥳🥳🥳

Uno is the AI running Ducklair Tower who was built by his dad, Everett Ducklair, so he could talk to someone just as smart as him. Uno tells PK about how everything Everett builds ends up being a weapon of mass destruction, even when he doesn't intend to do so. He then runs away from all his problems to a monastery to "better himself."

Anyways now they're friends!!! YIPPEE!!!

More people who work on Anxieties get cool-flamed, PK gets chased by Evronians, and unfortunately PK has his first of many near-death experiences involving the Duckburg subways. This one is not even close to the worst one so I don't have to add anything to Donald's trauma counter yet.

Donald and Uno scheme to convince Scrooge to rent out the terrace of Ducklair Tower so the Anxieties cast can have their party there. The Evronians crash the party and try to cool-flame Lyla, but the beam just bounces off of her! (I wonder why that is? :3) PK also shows up to crash the party.

This is when we see PK's main weapon for this series, the X-Transformer Shield, in action! It's resistant to the Everonians' weapons, it has a beam that can suspend the target's subjective time, and it allows for PK to have a tiny Uno with him at all times! Uno calls him "partner" :)

The shield has a ton of other features that we'll see later but for now PK throws it as a boomerang to save Duckie Starry once again. Because of this, PK gets his first of many kisses (sadly he doesn't get one from Uno or give him one either)

Angus Fangus makes everyone reading the comic want to fight him by going on air and accusing PK and the Evronians of working together. Paperinik Will Remember That

Breaking the formula to say that I love that Uno stops PK from going on the roof and tells him to sleep so that he doesn't stay up even longer. Currently most of this care and "mommy-ing" is because PK is his first friend, but later that care becomes more and more genuine because he learns to, quote, "have affection" for him. That's why a lot of us ship them <3

I adore most of the characters in PKNA and even the ones I hate I love how they fit into the story. Hope y'all enjoyed this issue and want to read more!!!!!!!

Also someone help me find cheap PKNA figures I cry every time I see the Uno orb listed because even when the price is affordable it'll have $30+ shipping even though all the other stuff I've ordered from Italy has had significantly cheaper shipping.

[justagalwhowrites]

HEY BESTIE I LOVE THE PROMPTS #s 21 86 94 114 128 146 😭❤️ THEY WOULD BE SO CUTE TO READ

LOVE U SM

HI BESTIE!!

You had sent in one of these before I asked you to resend them lol but HEY turns out that was the perfect set up to post this one shot, too :D

This is featuring Joel and a smuggling partner who's been working with him and Tess for a while. She's new for this fic but I really like her so she may be making another appearance. I hope you love it!

Thanks so much for writing in and reading! Love you!!

Pretty Girl

Your smuggling partner, Joel Miller, is being uncommonly social during a trip to the Speakeasy.

Based on Prompt 128: "You're pretty" "You're drunk"

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: SMUT! Just smut. Smutty smutty smut. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ only.

Length: 2.7k

“This is going to be a stupid fucking run,” you took a sip of shitty whiskey - which was the only whiskey to be found in the QZ so you dealt with it. Better than nothing, at least. 

“It’s not that stupid,” Tess replied. 

“We’re talking a total of, what, eight days on the road?” You asked. “Unless one of you assholes has a car I don’t know about…” 

“No car,” Tess said. “But I’ve heard from other folks who have passed through there in the last few months and it’s eight days of damn near empty country with a literal farm of pot on the other side. We’re talking about pounds and pounds of the stuff, we’ll be set for a fucking year off this one run…” 

You took another drink, looking out at the other patrons of the bar. Downtrodden and looking for solace at the bottom of a glass. Not all that different than the dive bars you frequented before the world ended eight years earlier but there had been a charm to them then. You and your girlfriends chose those places to add some kind of danger to your debauchery. The concept of going out for cocktails or a beer after work now was almost laughable it was so foreign. 

You’d had that kind of life once, though. One where you wore sheath dresses and spiked heels to your office and got paid more money than you needed to write bullshit ads for bullshit companies like Walmart. A trip to a dive bar was a fun way to step outside of your protected little bubble, a way to hook up with a guy with callused hands who might be a little rougher than the guys in your office whose muscle came from machines at the gym. 

You couldn’t believe you used to stress about that shit now. It was all so stupid, the pointless deadlines and the KPIs and the concern about what your boss would think if you showed up with a rough blue collar guy to a company cocktail hour. 

Now, you were only worried about surviving to the next day. And this run would either make that very easy or very hard, there was no in between. 

“What do you think, Miller?” You looked at Joel, the most sullen of your little trio. “Think it’s worth the risk?” 

He sighed, looking between you and Tess. 

“I think if Tess’ intel is good then we’re fuckin’ stupid to not take advantage of it,” he said. “But we can’t be fuckin’ dumb about goin’. We have to make sure we’re well supplied because I’m not getting caught with my pants down in the middle of fuckin’ nowhere just to run some pot into the QZ.” 

You ground your teeth for a moment before sighing. 

“Fine. If you’re both in then I’m in. But I swear to God if this fucking scheme gets me killed I will haunt both of you until the day you die.” 

Tess laughed a little and downed the rest of her whiskey. 

“On that note,” she said, getting up from your table. “I’m getting out of here. We’ll look at getting the fuck out of here in about a week, make sure you’re set on ammo and rations by then, yeah?” 

“Sure,” you nodded once and watched her go and turned back to Joel. “Ever wonder what the fuck would happen to Tess if she wasn’t in charge of something for a whole five minutes?” 

Joel snorted. 

“Doubt that’d ever happen,” he took a sip of his beer, polishing it off. 

“You heading out, too?” You asked. 

He looked at you for a moment, almost like he was assessing you. 

“Thinkin’ about stayin’,” he replied eventually. “Want somethin’ else from the bar?” 

“I’ll take a beer if you’re offering,” you shrugged, not used to Joel doing anything social beyond the bare minimum. You’d been doing smuggling runs with him for two years now and you were pretty sure you could count on one hand the number of conversations he’d initiated on your trips outside the QZ together. 

You certainly didn’t DISLIKE the man. You liked him probably a little too much if you were being completely honest about it. You liked that he was broad and strong and that he was the kind of guy you’d pick up on one of those nights out in a dive bar with your girlfriends. But you liked more than that, too. You liked the fact that he stopped at a pharmacy on the way back from a run once and grabbed a handful of bottles of children’s Tylenol. You’d frowned as he stashed them in his pack. 

“Neighbor’s daughter keeps gettin’ ear infections,” he said. “Poor thing sounds miserable.” 

He never mentioned it again. 

Joel brought two beers back to the table and put one in front of you before taking his seat again, looking out at the handful of people dancing to the music from the jukebox. 

“So Joel,” you said, twisting the glass in your fingers. “If you had to pick one thing - not a person because we all have a person - that you miss most about before, what would you pick?” 

“Hm,” he frowned, taking a drink. “Never thought about it.” 

“Well I’m asking you to think about it,” you smiled a little as you took a sip of beer. “That’s kind of the point.” 

One corner of his mouth pulled up slightly at that and he shook his head a bit. 

“Probably goin’ to listen to music or playin’ music,” he said eventually. “Somethin’ about live music… anyway. Probably miss that most. Or maybe museums.” 

“Museums.” You raised your eyebrows. 

He nodded. 

“Went to a lot of museums,” he said. 

He got a bit of a wistful look in his eye for a moment before he took another drink. 

“Didn’t strike me as the type,” you said.

He shrugged. 

“How about you?” He asked. 

“Restaurants,” you said immediately. “Hands down. I’d gained like 10 pounds on a trip not long before the outbreak so for the two weeks before I was dieting like crazy and I’ve never regretted a damn thing more. I was eating the most bland, boring shit like a dumbass. Jesus Christ, what I wouldn’t give now for a New York slice. Or a bagel. Fuck, I think I’d rather have one more true NYC bagel than ever have great sex again.” 

“Sounds like you’ve just never had great sex,” Joel smirked a bit. 

“No,” you shook your head. “You’ve just never had a great bagel.”

The two of you ended up having a few more drinks together and you actually heard Joel laugh - not something you knew he was actually capable of even after a few years of knowing the guy. 

“C’mon,” he said, downing the last of another beer. “Should get out of here before it’s curfew…” 

“Joel Miller, consummate rule follower,” you teased but knocked back the rest of your drink as well, leaving the speakeasy together. 

“Have a question for you,” he asked, his hands in his pockets. 

“Ask away.” 

“Where’d you learn to shoot the way you do?” He looked over at you. “You never seemed like the type. Still don’t, if I’m bein’ honest ‘bout it.” 

“My dad started taking me hunting when I was a kid,” you smiled a little at the memory. “Always liked the challenge but what I really liked was that he liked doing it with me. Never could get his attention any other way, really. Don’t think he ever wanted a daughter but he got stuck with me. So he took me hunting and I loved it. And then he started teaching me more and more and eventually I was just a damn good shot.” 

He nodded slowly. 

“Well, I owe ‘im,” he said. “You being a fuckin’ deadeye saved my ass more than once.” 

“You know you don’t have to wait until you’re drunk to talk to me,” you said, glancing over to him. “You can ask me shit like this when it comes to mind.” 

“Not drunk,” he said. 

“Sure you’re not,” you rolled your eyes, coming to the road where you usually went your separate ways to go to your respective apartments. But when you turned to say goodbye, he’d turned toward your apartment instead, already walking that way. 

“OK so you’re really drunk,” you said, catching up with him quickly. “Your apartment is the other way, Joel.” 

“Not drunk,” he said. “Just makin’ sure you get home OK. Not usually out this late. Not with me, anyway.” 

You looked at him, incredulous, but didn’t argue. You walked in silence for a few minutes and you felt his eyes on you periodically and you couldn’t figure out why.

“Is everything OK?” You asked eventually. “Didn’t… I dunno, get bit in the QZ somehow, right?” 

“I’m fine,” he frowned. “Why?” 

“Because you’re being weirdly talkative and walking me home,” you said. “And you keep looking at me. And I’d like to make sure you’re not about to drop dead or turn or something.” 

“I’m fine,” he shrugged. 

“OK…” 

“It’s just…” he paused. “You’re… pretty.” 

You snorted. 

“You’re drunk.” 

“I ain’t drunk,” he said. 

“And I ain’t been pretty since 2003,” you shook your head and smiled a bit. “That ship sailed with the Lancome counter at the mall and access to regular blowouts.” 

“Well that’s a load of shit,” he said. “You’re pretty. You just are, don’t need fuckin’ makeup or that other shit to see that.” 

You stopped walking and stared at him for a moment. He stopped walking, standing under a street light, and turned to look at you. 

“What.” 

“I swear to God, Joel, if I didn’t know better I’d say you were hitting on me.” 

He shrugged. 

“Maybe I am.” 

You scoffed. 

“I’m being serious!” You said. “Don’t make fun of me…” 

“I’m bein’ serious, too,” he said. “Not makin’ fun.” 

You stepped closer to him, so your bodies were aligned and almost touching, your arms crossed over yourself. 

“What were you planning to do about it?” You asked. 

He took your chin gently in one of his large hands and tilted your head back before kissing you. HIs lips were plush, unexpectedly soft in contrast to the pleasant scratch of his mustache on your skin. He kissed you until you were breathless, your hands flexing into fists as you tried to work some of the growing tension from your limbs. He pulled back a little, his nose brushing your own. 

“Somethin’ like that,” he said quietly. “More, if you’ll let me.” 

You we ripping his clothes off before the door to your apartment had fully closed, his shirt winding up somewhere on the floor of your living room alongside your bra. 

When you were both naked, you pushed him down on your bed, your pussy already dripping and aching for him. You moved to straddle him and he brought a hand down over your sensitive mound, dipping his fingers into your slit and gathering your wetness before sliding up to tease your clit. 

“Goddamn you’re wet,” he groaned. “You walk around like this all the fuckin’ time, just ready for it?” 

“No,” you panted. “Took you practically sticking your tongue down my throat outside…” 

“Oh is that all,” he worked your clit harder, making you moan. 

“Maybe you’re pretty, too, Miller,” you closed your eyes, trying to focus, your body already starting to tighten, your sex all but begging to have something to grip and throb around as aching heat started to swirl through you. 

“Know that’s bullshit,” he leaned forward and nipped your throat before kissing and sucking his way to your collarbone, taking his hand away from your slit and rubbing your arousal over his thick, hard length. You tilted your hips forward, brushing his weeping tip with your soaked seam. “Fucking hell Baby…” 

“Need you,” you dug your nails into his back and he moaned at it. “Need to feel…” 

“Fuck,” he groaned, holding onto the base of his cock and lining it up with your grasping, longing core. His head barely dipped into you, the burning stretch doing nothing to sate your desperate wanting. “Need inside you, need you to fuckin’ take it…” 

You thrust down on him, taking him into you in one firm, quick motion. It made you gasp, his size almost overwhelming. You whimpered as your body adjusted, your pussy feeling more stretched than it ever had before. 

“Jesus Christ,” his forehead dropped to your shoulder, his breaths coming in keening, desperate pants. “Holy fucking God you’re tight, fuck…” 

You started to ride him then, beginning slow but hard, lifting your hips up before slamming yourself back down on him, your channel gripping him tight every time he was thrust up into you. 

His hands went to your hips, fingertips digging into the soft flesh of you, clinging to you as you worked his cock. 

“Take it like this?” You panted in his ear before sinking your teeth into the muscle of his shoulder. 

“Fuck, just like that,” his hands were more desperate on you now, like he was going to lose control. “Want you to make yourself cum on my fuckin’ cock, want to feel you cum all over my fuckin’ cock…” 

Your pussy tightened further around him and you pressed your chest tightly against against him, riding him hard and fast now, your clit pressing against the softness of his stomach with every firm thrust. 

“Fuck, Joel,” you gasped as you came, taking him all the way inside yourself and holding him there as you pulsed around him. 

It was like he’d been waiting for you to cum, waiting for you to be so lost in your own orgasm that you couldn’t do anything to stop him from taking what he wanted. 

His arms went around you and he picked you up for a moment before pressing you down into your bed, his cock buried in you to the root. He started fucking into you while your pussy still throbbed around him. Your hands flew to your bed, fingers tangling in the sheets as he spread your legs wide and looked down to where you were joined. 

“Fuck, look at you takin’ me so goddamn well,” he groaned, increasing his pace. Your pussy started to contract around him again, your clit both begging for attention but so oversensitive that you were worried him toying with it would make you cry. “Tight fuckin’ pussy so goddamn good…” 

He pressed a thumb into your clit and it was like a shockwave rolled through you, something almost like another orgasm coursing through you. But it offered no relief, just driving yourself to get tighter around Joel, your body trying to bring him deeper, hold onto him for longer. 

“Not gonna last long with pussy this goddamn good,” he said, leaning over you and kissing and biting down your jaw to your throat. You rocked your hips up against him in desperate, stuttering thrusts. “Where do you want me, Baby?” 

“On my clit,” you moaned. “Fuck, please…” 

“Jesus,” he groaned, fucking into you harder, his cock forcing you to stretch over him to just shy of the point of pain with every motion.  Your body was so taut again you were worried you were going to snap with it, with the aching drive of pleasure and want taking over you. “Fuck, I’m gonna…” 

He thrust in you twice more before pulling out of you and jerking himself just once over your dripping slit. He pressed his swollen cock head to your clit and gasped as he came, spilling himself over you, the warm pulsing of his spend triggering your orgasm. 

“Fuck you’re so pretty when you cum,” he panted, watching as the last of his cum dripped onto your throbbing clit. He ran his thumb up from your hole through your slit to your overwrought clit, rubbing his cum into you as he circled your clit, making you shudder and gasp as your orgasm eased. 

He took one last, long look at your naked body before collapsing beside you, still panting for breath. 

“So,” he said after a minute. “Still think you’d rather have a bagel?” 

You laughed once. 

“Bagels can go to hell,” you said. “As long as you promise to do that to me again.” 

“Any time you want, Pretty Girl,” he said. “Any time you want.” 

[beardedmrbean]

Mark Zuckerberg’s Meta has sacked a number of staff after they abused the company’s $25 (£19) meal scheme to order household goods such as toothpaste and washing powder.

Almost 30 staff in the company’s Los Angeles office were dismissed after they were found to be routinely using takeaway credits to order groceries and cosmetics, employees said.

The sackings included high-paid engineers earning six-figure salaries, according to posts on the anonymous chat app Blind.

Meta, which is currently worth $1.5 trillion, provides staff with free breakfast, lunch and dinner at its larger offices.

Those in smaller offices without staff canteens instead receive vouchers for delivery apps such as Grubhub, which they can use to order food when working at the office.

However, Meta recently discovered that some employees were using the $25 vouchers to order household items from stores that feature on the apps.

In some cases, staff were using the scheme to buy wine glasses and laundry detergent, according to the Financial Times.

Meta and other Silicon Valley companies have long offered free food in their offices, which are seen as an incentive to come into the office instead of working from home, or in the case of breakfast and dinner, to encourage longer working hours.

Staff initially received warnings about abusing the meal voucher scheme but those who continued to do so were sacked last week.

The news came as Meta also laid off a larger number of staff across WhatsApp, Instagram and its virtual reality unit on Wednesday.

The company said it was restructuring certain departments, and moving some staff to other areas.

The redundancies are not believed to be as widespread as the mass layoffs in 2022 and 2023, when Meta cut tens of thousands of staff in what Mr Zuckerberg called a driver for “efficiency”.

A Meta spokesman said: “Today, a few teams at Meta are making changes to ensure resources are aligned with their long-term strategic goals and location strategy.

“This includes moving some teams to different locations, and moving some employees to different roles. In situations like this when a role is eliminated, we work hard to find other opportunities for impacted employees.”

Meta has cut down on perks introduced to encourage staff into the office in recent years, scrapping “to-go” boxes that allowed employees to take food home, as well as benefits such as laundry services.

[cityof2morrow]

CDK: Art Department

Published: 9-15-2024 | Updated: N/A SUMMARY Cubic Dynamics by John B. Cube and Marcel Dusims forged the future with furnishings that were minimalist in design and maximalist in erudite pretension. Generations later, the company continues to produce edge-of-cutting-edge designs. Use the Cubic Dynamics Kitbash (Simmons, 2023-2024) collection to set up corporate, exposition, and office environments. Envisioned as an add-on to the Cubic Dynamics set (EA/Maxis, archived at GOS), it features minimalist and retro-futuristic objects. Find more CC on this site under the #co2cdkseries tag. Read the Backstory and ‘Dev Notes’ HERE. Another DIY-style set with plenty of  mix-n-match options. The ART DEPARTMENT is where your creative sim employees dream up the award-winning designs, layouts, color schemes, and advertising that your company is known for. Make sure they have a proper place to do their work! This set includes edits of 2 older CC sets – see the compatibility note at the end of this post.

DETAILS All EPs/SPs. §See Catalog for Pricing | See Buy/Build Mode You need the Company Expo (Mesh Pack) set (Simmons, 2024) for TXTRs to show properly in game. All files with “MESH” in their name REQUIRED for textures/models to display correctly in-game. Several objects in this series are oversized/offset. You may need to shift an objects upwards once to level it, and you may need “move objects” and “grid on/off” cheats to place them to your liking. When placing partitions/floating shelves and tables/desks/counters on the same tile, place the partition/shelves first. I recommend using this set with Object Freedom 1.02 (Fway, 2023), which includes Numenor’s fix for OFB shelves (2006), for easier use overall. ITEMS Deco and Clutter (176-502 poly) Desk (288 poly) Desk Chair (933 poly) Easels 001-002 (525-1270 poly) Empty Bookcase (988 poly) – place shelves inside, doubles as bookcase Empty Sideboard (1152 poly) – place shelves inside, slots on top as well Canvas Art 001-003 (12-48 poly) Pouf Chair (188 poly) Project Board (508 poly) Partition (492 poly) Shelves 001-003 (100-214 poly) DOWNLOAD (choose one) from SFS | from MEGA COMPATIBILITY AVOID DUPLICATES: The #co2cdkseries includes edited versions – replacements - for items in the following CC sets: 4ESF (office 3, other 1/artroom, other 2/build), All4Sims/MaleorderBride (miskatonic library, office, postmodern office), CycloneSue (never ending/privacy windows), derMarcel (inx office), Katy76/PC-Sims (bank/cash point, court/law school sets, sim cola machine), Marilu (immobilien office), Murano (ador office), Reflex Sims (giacondo office), Retail Sims/HChangeri (simEx, sps store), Simgedoehns/Tolli (focus kitchen, loft office, modus office), ShinySims (modern windows), SH (reverie office, step boxes/shelving), Spaik (sintesi study), Stylist Sims (offices 1,2, & 3, Toronto set), Tiggy027 (wall window frames 1-10), Wall Sims (holly architecture, Ibiza). *The goal is to link the objects to the recolors/new functions in the #co2cdkseries without re-inventing the wheel! Credit to the original creators.

CREDITS Thanks: ChocolateCitySim, HugeLunatic, Klaartje, Ocelotekatl, Whoward69, LoganSimmingWolf, Gayars, Ch4rmsing, Ranabluu, Gummilutt, Crisps&Kerosene, LordCrumps, PineappleForest. Sources: Any Color You Like (CuriousB, 2010), Beyno (Korn via BBFonts), EA/Maxis, Offuturistic Infographic (Freepik). SEE CREDITS (ALT)