#I AM. SHAKING U. BITING U. PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS SACRED BLESS THE REST OF US PEASANTS

[whumpshaped]

"and im getting quality prompts too. why dont these ppl have their own blogs so i can follow them and rb all this premium stuff. "

Can't write unless I feel obligated to for the sake of somebody else :(

Scrolling through your blog and manifesting regular asks in 2024 to get me out of this hole 😭

NO BUT. OK. I AM GRABBING U LIKE THIS

I HEAR SO MANY PPL SAY SIMILAR STUFF. AND HOW LIKE OHHHH I DONT RLY WRITE THIS IS NOT REAL WRITING.... POST THAT HALF BAKED SHIT. WRITE INCOMPREHENSIBLE PROMPTS. RAMBLE. SCREAM INTO THE VOID. thats half of what i do.

THERES TREMENDOUS VALUE IN IT!!!!!!!!!!!! if u guys posted all this stuff the community would be all the better for it bc theyre SO quality. i love u guys. if any of u ask senders ever make a blog to post these prompts or smth, or decide to start posting them on ur already existing blogs, whatever. just send me ur url bc i wanna follow. its such good stuff.

[diyunho]

The Joker x Reader - “40 and 13″

Overpopulation caused the governments all over the world to vote for a drastic resolution: a special virus was created that makes everyone die when they turn 40 years old. The Joker will turn 40 in five days and Y/N can't cope with the news since she'll be left behind without him.

You and The Joker just finished eating dinner in front of the TV, trying to ignore the depressing news that shows the death toll climbing each day since the virus killing everybody once they turn 40 was unleashed upon the overpopulated Earth 12 months ago.

The King of Gotham is quietly sipping on his grape juice, debating if he should tell you or not; he’s been struggling with the decision for a while and being the way he is doesn’t help the matter.

“Pumpkin,” he starts the conversation,” did I ever mention my birthday is on July 13th?”

“Hm?” you turn your head towards him, not sure you heard right; you had a huge fight this morning and barely managed to patch things up enough to tolerate each other’s presence by night fall.

“You always wanna know when my birthday is and I’m telling you now it’s on July 13th.”

He keeps on staring at the TV s, disregarding your gaze that seems to burn through him.

Why is he suddenly sharing such an intimate detail? You tried several times to get it out of him without any reaction besides that of him getting mad and emphasize it’s none of your business. Unless…

“J…” you hesitantly ask. “How old are you going to be?...”

The Joker takes another sip from the can before placing it on the coffee table and nonchalantly enunciates:

“Fourty.”

He hears you sniffle it’s not difficult to predict you’re going to burst into tears in a few seconds.

“I’m only saying this because I didn’t want to drop dead without any warning; I’m sure you would hate me forever and we can’t have that happen: I do the hating part. That’s a sacred rule.”

And there she goes, he sighs as soon as Y/N begins bawling her eyes out next to him on the couch.

“…July 13th is in…in 5 days,” you manage to utter while crawling on his knees, your arms tightly going around his neck. J doesn’t stop you and actually hugs you back even if he promised himself he won’t tolerate any kind of emotional rubbish from his girlfriend.

“Yeap, coming up,” he buries his face in your shoulder, inhaling the perfume he likes and for some reason it’s not very comforting today. “You have three more years to go so make it count, ok?”

Y/N can’t stop crying and plans to blur out a million sentences yet the disclosure is overwhelming for the heartbroken woman.

“W-why didn’t you…” and The Joker can’t understand the following word but he comprehends the meaning.”…earlier?”

“I didn’t share earlier since it would have been atrocious to watch: when you cry you get these wrinkles in the middle of your forehead. Uggghhh”, he shrugs with fake disgust. “It makes you… how should I put it nicely?… Super ugly! For 5 days though…I believe I’ll be able to endure it.”

Y/N’s faint snorting noise prompts his smile too, aware she is not fighting back the stupid remark like she would usually do and that’s fine with him.

“P-please don’t leave me,” you kiss his cheek and cuddle to his body, panicking at the thought he’ll be gone in a few days.

“I don’t have a choice, Pumpkin. Nobody does. Not anymore.  It’s inevitable and you’ll have to deal with it…”

“What am I supposed to do without you?” you bring up the painful fact bound to become reality in such a short notice it physically hurts.

“Survive,” the candid reply advises. “You’re The King’s Queen so live for both until your time will come.”

J wishes to elaborate on the topic and you cover his mouth, upset.

“You’re not a King and I’m not a Queen. We’re just a man and a woman that screwed up over and over again; still��here we are. That’s it…That’s all there is…No King and no Queen,” you shake your head in denial. “Only us…” your voice dims under the burden of grief.

Your fingers slide off his lips, revealing a stunned Joker that seems to see his girlfriend for the first time. How come he didn’t realize sooner?! She loves him. She really does.

“Only us…” J repeats in a trance, pulling Y/N into a soft kiss that somehow feels more intimate than everything else they did before.

You glide your hands down his chest, the way you grind against him making it clear you want more than a make out session.

“Does this mean you’re not mad at me for the moment?” he tests the waters although the answer is logical.

“U-hum,” you take your t-shirt off and The Joker gropes you, the typical mischievous smirk lacking from his part: he just wants you close. Despite vehemently denying the hunger for your touch, the thought gives him an unexpected sense of loneliness. When all your life you’ve been nothing more than a walking contradiction, it’s hard to battle the inner demons caging your desire to the point of no return.

That’s why J wipes your tears and doesn’t have a smart ass comment regarding the smeared mascara: he craves the distraction with such intensity it makes the rest fade.

“I have some requests,” you whisper and he stares into your eyes, kind of lost and finding himself unable to resist the tempting lips pouted one inch from his.

“Oh yeah?” the curiosity takes over.

“No fighting,” you trace the tattoo on his abs and The Joker never agreed to anything faster:

“OK.”

“I want to talk about stuff we never talk about…”

“OK.”

“I want us to make love as much as possible,” you negotiate wondering if he will fuss about the spontaneous list summarized in a hurry.

“OK,” The Clown Prince of Crime consents without arguing to your terms because the truth is he has no intention to do so today.

“And I want some sort of proof that you like me,” Y/N boldly demands since he unfortunately indicated the opposite on numerous occasions in the past.

J frowns, not mumbling the OK you are expecting. The awkward silence continues and The Joker notices how hard you’re trying to hide your disappointment when actually he’s straining to conceal his own emotions. He shouldn’t indulge the urge of making you happy before it’s too late, yet the demons in his mind are quiet now: the accidental clarity could make a person finally act against their usual judgment.

You watch him pass his fingers through his locks, confused when he brings the longer strands in the front of his face. J carefully plucks one green hair out of his head, gesturing for your left hand. You hold it up and he twists the neon colored token at the base of your pinky, explaining his action while finalizing the project with a couple of knots:

“I guess you can say you have me wrapped around your finger.”

The girlfriend’s stunned expression is certainly worth the trouble of affirming it loud; The Joker savors the outcome and you take off your bra, tossing the lacy garment behind the sofa:

“Abandon all hope Mister Joker,” Y/N’s instant evil grin changes the mood.  “You belong to me now.”

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

“I can’t sleep,” you stretch next to him on the couch.

“Me neither,” he yawns. “Even if you exhausted me,” J adds, yanking you in his arms again. You kiss his collar bone, restless at the question about to echo in the stillness:

“Are you afraid?”

The Joker has no idea on how to verbalize his inner views on the matter, but he doesn’t leave you hanging either.

“Maybe …I’m not thinking about it…”

“I am,” you squeeze in the important topic he probably didn’t even consider. “I’ll be here for you when it happens, but when I die…I will be alone...”

J feels this sharp pain in his heart that makes him realize a critical element: he didn’t have the opportunity to weigh in what dying before Y/N will mean for her.

“I’ll be here,” he pecks your forehead and you cling to him, discouraged at the obvious lie.

“Yeah, sure…”

“I promise I’ll be here, alright?”

“We are both aware how well you keep your promises,” you admonish in a way that doesn’t trigger his anger.

“I’ll keep this one, hm?” he reassures Y/N and she snickers at the impossible to fulfil vow, but appreciates his passionate response nevertheless. You nod a yes, drawing invisible circles on his skin.

“Do you want to dance on the terrace?” you suggest on a whim.

“OK,” The Joker quickly consents and gets up, grabbing the sheet from the floor. He takes your hand and guides you on the patio, unfolding the thin fabric as soon as you’re outdoors. Despite the cool breeze, it’s nice and warm in the middle of the night.  

“No music?” you tease as he wraps both naked bodies in the sheet.

“We dance to our own tune, Pumpkin,” he winks and slowly moves while tightly hugging you.

“We always did,” you play along, brushing away the horrible sentiment of regret clouding the peaceful atmosphere.

“It’s a jungle out there,” J stirs the dialogue in order to address his concerns. “This whole virus business is turning the world upside down. You saw on the news they might release the antivirus sooner than anticipated, but there are no guarantees. You have to find a way to survive no matter what.”

“Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine…”

“After I’m gone, please don’t do anything… reckless. It won’t be easy, but you can’t give up."

You know what he’s referring to and mutter:

“I won’t… I swear...”

J starts spinning faster, chuckling at your excited screams. 

“Stoooop!!!!” you beg laughing, trying not to trip and fall.

“Did you ever dance with the devil in the pale moonlight?” he bites your ear and you squeal, jumping out of the sheet that’s sliding to the ground since he’s not holding it anymore.

“No,” you giggle and J lifts you up in his arms, delighted to have found a small piece of heaven in the hell surrounding the gloomy future.

“Good; there’s a first time for everything,” he abruptly halts for a kiss before reprising the crazy pace while Y/N can’t remember the last time the two of them had so much fun.

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

July the 13th, 8:45am

“I couldn’t help noticing you didn’t wish me a happy birthday,” he watches you comb your hair and the reflection in the mirror depicts a tearful girlfriend that struggles with so many emotions it’s difficult to speak. “I was hoping you’ll mention it while we took a shower.”

“Happy Birthday…”

“Thanks,” The Joker simply replies and you finally put the brush down and attempt to flee the bathroom when he blocks the exit. “Are you avoiding me?”

“Ummm… I’ll make breakfast…” you sniffle and he glares at you, understanding your reaction for once.

“I was planning to have sex, but I might kick the bucket right in the middle of the activity and I believe you might take it personally although I don’t consider you boring in bed.”

“It’s not funny…” you scold and he agrees:

“It’s not because it’s not meant to be,” the harsh reality strikes a chord within Y/N. “It literally can happen at any moment and I don’t want to embarrass myself like that. Can you imagine? Rumors spread all over town that The Joker couldn’t finish.”

He detects the faint smile and sulks at your verdict:

“You’re an idiot.”

“That’s fucking rude,” he scoffs. “What if these are the last words I hear?! What if I check out precisely this second, huh?! Would you be thrilled that’s the last thing you said to me?!”

Instead of a sassy remark J gets a remorseful apology he wasn’t aiming for:

“I’m sorry… I don’t know what to do…”

“Me neither,” he sincerely underlines. “In the meantime, you should…” and pauses since he suddenly feels out breath, “you should make breakfast.”

“Are you OK?” you inquire, worried he almost lost his balance.

“I’m fine, just need my coffee to wake up,” he sighs and steps away from the doorway, heading towards the master bedroom.

“Aren’t you coming downstairs?” you catch up with him and The Joker tilts over for your support.

“I’m a bit dizzy; I’ll lie down until you finish the food. Don’t look so panicked: after I eat I’ll be better.”

You gulp and place him in bed, your pulse so enhanced it gives you the impression you’ll faint soon.

“You want some water?” you offer and he adjusts his pillows, collapsing on top of them afterwards.

“Yes,” J musters the strength to grumble, this weird sensation of total exhaustion creeping up in his brain.

You rush out of the room and bump into the bookcase, numb at the soreness. The Joker barely perceives your stomping, digging under the cushions for a small envelope he keeps in his fist for you to find in case you don’t return before he loses consciences. He wrote the note yesterday and it would be a shame to chicken out at the end and not proceed as planned.

“Here’s the water,” you barge in with the bottle and run by the bed, nervously touching his face. “How are you? Can you stand up?”

His eyes go in the back of the head and he tries to concentrate on your voice as it fades into nothingness.

“Hey, I’ll make your favorite pancakes,” you shake him, startled he won’t snap out of his apathy. “J, look at me. Come on, let’s go downstairs…Can you at least drink some water?” you start sobbing seeing he’s not receptive to your encouragements.

The Joker’s lips are moving without sound and you fall on your knees, scared to see him frantically breathing:

“I know, alright? I already know. All I ask is that you come downstairs and eat your stupid pancakes, deal?”

The Joker’s eyes are closing and he deeply exhales, releasing the small piece of paper that rolls on the floor. You don’t even pay attention to it, desperate to witness an event you aren’t prepared for.

When The Joker came into this world 40 years ago, there was nobody there to love the newborn; his own mother didn’t want him.

But when he passed away at 9:03 am on his birthday, someone that loved him was there.  

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

Three years later – your birthday, 6:07am

You turn off the TV, annoyed they continue to depict the terrible results after to the official release of the antivirus last week: it’s not working and people are still dying. What did they expect by opening Pandora’s Box? So much turmoil on the streets, protests and demonstrations…

The governments will be voting tomorrow on implementing the martial law since the public outcry makes it impossible to contain the escalating damage after the huge failure they neglected to speculate.

Y/N drags her feet on the carpet, watching the snowflakes dancing outside the windows.

“We shouldn’t postpone this any longer…” you talk to yourself, removing the precious message The Joker left behind out of the hidden drawer on top of the fireplace.

You unfold the envelope, reading the hand written note for the millionth time:

Inside you’ll find my real name.

You’re the only one I trust with this.

Destroy the evidence.

You don’t glance at the name it contains and his memory immediately makes the isolation unbearable. You flick the envelope on the burning logs, enjoying the flames consuming the last trace of who he really was.

“Done… I kept my end of the bargain; where’s yours?” you lecture The Joker’s framed picture decorating the dinner table. “Liar…” Y/N pats her hands together, feeling cold even if the fire is very warm. The ticklish sensation in your fingers intensifies, making you shiver. You stare at your knuckles, no other jewelry besides the strand of green hair still wrapped around your pinky; it’s infinitely more valuable than any present J ever gifted you.

A gush of wind makes the curtains fly inward since the sliding glass doors leading to the terrace are wide opened. The sky is still dark, matching the general mood hoovering over Gotham these days.

You decide to take a stroll on the patio, this way you might be able to clear your mind from the impending doom you can’t escape. The snow squeaks under Y/N’s socks and the chill gets her out of trance since evidently she didn’t bring a jacket either. Another step and you stumble, finding it difficult to regain your equilibrium.

“Shit…” you choke on the strong air filling up your lungs.

Why is it so difficult to walk?

You take a seat on the nearest chair by the pool, not bothering cleaning up the snow; for some reason a break is more than welcomed at this point. You’re growing restless and try to disregard the anxiety building up in your chest: are you dying? Or is merely stress after living with this burden for so long?

Maybe if you shut your eyes and rest for a sec, you won’t be this tired. Yet the moon is shining so brightly it’s impossible to ignore; last time it was this beautiful you danced with the devil on an that unforgettable summer night. Seems like ages ago for the worn out Y/N.  

What if you take a nap? Only five minutes. That should be helpful and then you can resume your morning routine because you refuse to accept this could be the end already. Your eyelids close, not realizing you don’t feel the cold anymore; it’s nice and comforting, just like the touch of someone you love.

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

You wiggle in the chair and rub your eyes, refreshed after the well-deserved snooze: hopefully you didn’t waste too much time from your last day on earth. Your gaze wanders off around the terrace and you suddenly freeze: there’s someone leaning over the railing, watching the city from the 30th floor.

You rise from your spot and hesitantly walk towards the person, gasping when you notice the familiar fur coat.

“There she is,” The Joker turns around to greet you, smirking when you cover your mouth in disbelief. “Told you I’ll be here.”

You can’t make a single sound and he opens his arms, waiting for you to run to him.

“You didn’t miss me?” he laughs at your baffled reaction, bundling the coat around Y/N as soon as she finds herself in his embrace.

“I did miss you; I missed you so much,” you inhale his scent and the smell of your favorite cologne confirms he’s truly there. You hug him so tight he would normally complain, but there’s no bickering coming out of The Joker. “I can’t believe you’re here,” you smile and he kisses your lips, whispering:

“You have me wrapped around your finger. Where else am I supposed to be?”

 Also read: MASTERLIST

diyunho(.)tumblr(.)com/post/153664676321/joker-x-reader-masterlist

[medranochav]

2, 6, 15

6. A film you wish you hadn’t watched?

The Beguiled and Steve McQueen's Shame were absolutely cursed movie experiences for me. Saw both at art house venues with limited capacity making the space much more... intimate (this will make sense later)

Initially I was excited for another Sofia Coppola period piece. but that enthusiasm soon dwindled as I learned more abt The Beguiled. early reviews criticized the film for its whitewashing and called attention to Coppola's racist filmography. Critics reported on the white feminist fantasy perpetuated in her movies... a compelling take, considering it premiered the summer of Tr*mps inaugural year.

This iteration of The Beguiled excludes the black characters of the og story and glosses over slavery subject matter entirely despite being set in civil war era virginia. The gag of course, being that I watched the film here, in the confederacy's very own Richmond and among a mostly white audience... to put things in perspective, this was July of 2017 about 70 miles away and a little less than a month from the Unite the Right rally riot.

the movie includes Coppola's signature themes of girlhood precociousness, in this case exhibited thru sexual tension between girls and a grown man. disturbing as it was, these scenes are done so prudently and ultimately feel apropos considering a woman's behind the camera and at the film's helm. The sensitivity with which Coppola handles concepts of feminine sexuality is completely missing when it comes to the historical accuracy of the racial plight or even just black presence in this movie. Coppola's prioritizing of "gender dyanamics" over "racial ones" (those r direct quotes) nullified the film's few successes.

the violence of the film's erasure was echoed by the white man to our right, who incessantly laughed (loudly) during very clearly austere scenes. his reactions felt deliberately aggressive cuz he would cackle only during suggestive scenes featuring the girls/teens. the film's one redeeming quality was Coppola's sensible approach of rare narrative of young feminine passion

I've tried telling this story a lot of times without coming off as a total snowflake but it was a uniquely agonizing experience. my inner child still considers the cinema sacred ground, so that coupled with my own displacement in the south, the film's subject matter and the revisionism with which it was handled.... as well as the state of affairs at the time, contributed to just how badly it felt to sit there. the real gag is most of us in the audience were uncomfortable bur too chickenshit to tell any theater employee abt it.

Shame was a little different. I wish I hadn't had the movie experience that I did, however I love the film. It was beautifully shot and cut, the soundtrack is legendary and it features the only tolerable Carrie Mulligan role I've seen.

so, picture it... xmas break had just begun and I was treating my friend, who was leaving for london the next day, to dinner and a movie. DC was particularly cold that winter.... after a quick bite, we made our way to the theater. The film began, as you probably know, with Fassbender's full frontal junk flopping about. the plot of the film is about sex addiction, so despite explicit imagery, it felt very unsexy. McQueen's pacing is so great in this. it feels like a spiral, you feel the habit perpetuate into a loss of control, you feel the all consuming nature of dependency. to me it was a very painful film that felt so beyond the titillating aspects of it.

well into the first act I notice the man infront of us shaking... I keep my gaze on him out of concern. Turns out he wasn't trembling for no reason... he was masturbating... under the jacket he had swaddled himself with before the film's start. I look over to my friend next to me to confirm that she sees this too. she hadnt, and was intently watching the screen. I was mortified. again feeling very violated and even a lil ashamed for having treated a friend to this experience. i was already apprehensive about the movie's subject matter and this Pee Wee Herman in front of us wasnt helping any.

I tell my friend I'm gonna use the bathroom and run out with the quickness. I find an employee and tell them what's up. she gagged at the news and was so frazzled she dropped all her clip boards and shit. I'm like, idk what to do, but my friend has no idea what's happening and I'd like for her not to find out. I ask this be handled discreetly.

I get back to my seat, to an innocuous scene on screen and Jackie Earle Haley here in the front of us is bundled up under his coat and no longer vibrating vigorously. as the movie continues, I begin to conflate my experiences with the film as both sincere spectator and also violated theater patron. throughout the rest of the screening, a rotation of employees stand at the room's edge parallel to the dude's row. suddenly the jacket came up and off, and miss thing started watching like she really came for the cinematography. ultimately my friend was none the wiser, I gave her a big hug and didnt see her until the next year... when I told her what happened. she appreciated my efforts but felt bad I did so alone.

[diyunho]

The Joker x Reader- “The Black Plague”

The Joker’s unexpected death left you behind with a young daughter to raise and unbearable pain. Things have never been easy but now that he’s gone you miss him so badly it hurts. And you have a lifetime to endure without The King of Gotham.

“What…took you…so long? I almost died waiting…literally…” J takes deep breaths, trying to focus on you. He’s lying in a pool of blood, still holding the cell to his chest.

You rush by his side and kneel, so shocked you can’t make a sound. You lift his head in your lap, wiping a few red drops splattered on his pale cheeks.

“Those bastards…got me…” he manages to point towards the two dead bodies a few feet away in the underground parking. “But I got… them too,” The Joker pants, making an effort to continue. “I’m glad…you answered…the phone…” and he groans in pain; it’s so hard for him to speak at this point. “If…if there’s something…you wanna tell me…you should hurry…” he faintly smiles and your mind is completely blank. You finally start bawling, reality suddenly hitting with its cruel outcome.

“I love you,” J hears and it seems so far away.

“I…I know that…What else?” He starts coughing, almost choking in his own blood.

“What am I supposed to tell Emma, hm?” you bring your face close to his, so desperate and hopeless you can’t stop shaking.

“Tell her…that…” and The Joker really strains to finish but can’t. “Tell… … …her…” His eyelids slowly close, the world fading away.

“J…? J…?” you gently caress his hand even if it’s too late: you know he’s gone. “What am I supposed to tell Emma?… What am I supposed to tell her?…”

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

As soon as you step out of the elevator into the penthouse, your three years old daughter runs towards you, excited:

“Mommy!” and she hugs your legs, giggling. “Whe’s daddy?” Emma glances behind you, pouting. You don’t even pick her up, not realizing that’s what she wants. Frost gave you his jacket to cover your clothes soaked with blood.

“Up, mommy, up!” she pulls on your jeans, whimpering when you ignore her and walk away.

“Whe’s daddy?” your child insists, hoping he will be the one to play with her.

“Daddy will never come home again,” you turn towards her for a few moments, feeling the unbearable pain crushing your heart.

“Com’ere, kid,” Frost sighs, lifting the little girl in his arms, her pigtails flying in the air.“You want chocolate cake?” he asks, distracting Emma and she nods a yes, forgetting she was about to whine.

“Cake?” the squeaky tone excitedly inquires.

“Yes, kiddo, your favorite.”

“Yaaayy!!!” she bounces in his strong hold, happy to get a sweet treat. You barely drag your feet to the nearest bathroom downstairs, locking the door and start to undress, your body convulsing under the pressure building up inside.

Jonny is very quick to hurry out of the penthouse so the child won’t have to hear the screams that will soon echo in the stillness.

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

“Wanna see daddy?”

“U-hum,” Emma impatiently reaches her hands for you and she gets picked up right away.

The silver casket is opened and she peeks at her dead father.

“Daddy?” she leans over and strokes his forehead, not understanding why he’s not moving. “Daddy, wake up,” and his daughter kisses his cheeks, snickering; she thinks The Joker is pretending and will tickle her for sure in just a few seconds.

“Daddy can’t wake up, sweetie,” you bite on your lower lip as hard as you can to stop the tears.

“Why?” she sulks, rubbing her blue eyes, then pets his hair, sensing something is not quite right but she’s too young to comprehend the awfulness of what is happening.

“He has to go far away and we won’t see him after today, ok?” you try to explain in the best way possible, your voice breaking towards the end of the sentence.

“Nooo,” she whimpers, clinging at your black dress.

You sniffle and Emma kisses his temple, upset.

“Daddy’s cold.”

You lift your shoulders up, incapable of mustering a reply. She puckers her lips and blows warm air on his neck a few times, then the little girl smiles once more, waiting for him to say something.

“Daaaddy…wake up…” she gets disappointed again since J is not reacting. The kid taps his hand, not giving up. “Daddy…daddy…”

Your daughter notices you’re crying and she frowns, wincing when you squeeze her in your embrace.

“I want my daaaaddy,” Emma places her arms around your neck, her mother’s behavior making her uneasy yet you can’t control the raging emotions anymore.

“Your dad is gone,” you whisper in her ear, sobbing. “It’s only us the girls now.”

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

“Is this seat taken?” someone wants to know while you are immersed in your book, waiting for the meeting to begin.

“Yes!” you almost shout since you always want to be alone and not socialize with the others.

“Perfect!” the person grumbles and takes a seat by you, disregarding the answer.

“Do you mind?!” you get pissed, slamming the pages shut.

“No, I don’t mind,” the arrogance takes over.

You want to tell the man to fuck off or something but as your eyes meet his, that can’t be done: it’s The Joker. You kind of had a one night stand, then another one, then another one, then a few more, then…nothing in the last two weeks.

“I can seat wherever I want, Y/N, I don’t need permission.”

Avoiding confrontation with J is tough, almost impossible. He pretends to brush an imaginary crumb off his green suit, resting his fingers on the top of the cane matching his outfit.

“You’re all dolled up; going on a date or something?” The King of Gotham teases because he loves to annoy you: he calls it “his hobby”.

“In the matter of fact I am after this boring crap,” and it’s actually the truth.

“Pretty popular, huh?” he grins, chuckling.

“Yeap, always,” the sassiness bothers him and J growls.

“In your dreams, Y/N, you’re not that special,” the malicious smirk on his face irritates you.

“Well then, thank God you don’t have to go on a date with me.”

“Indeed,” he snarls, crossing his legs. ”You get on my nerves; I couldn’t stand you even if you pay me.”

“I have better things to spend my money on, Mister J. You’re just jealous.”

He glares in your direction, burning holes through you.

“Jealous?! Me?! I bet the guy’s a loser anyway,” he starts laughing and you don’t find it amusing. If you continue the conversation he won’t shut up so you swallow your pride and let him have the last word.

** “Is this seat taken?” you hear his voice and panic.

“Yes!!” you look up to see him as he’s positioning himself right by you.

“Excellent. So the guy’s not here yet?” The Joker pries in your personal life, wanting to hear the scoop.

“No, not yet, so I would appreciate if you would just leave. Are you following me around?!” you bluntly demand to know.

“Ha! That’s a good one, Y/N. Like I don’t have better things to do with my precious time. I actually have a date too, not that I need to inform you. I am being a gentleman here because I saw you all alone at the table and I thought you should know: your date is not coming.”

“Wha…? How do you know he’s not coming?” you suspiciously squint your eyes.

“I told him not to show up or I’m gonna kill him. It worked, didn’t even fight it. Told you you’re not that special,” J winks, satisfied with his victory. He gets up and steps away, leaving you behind dumbfounded.

You try to call your guy and after a couple of rings, the message makes you cringe: “This number is no longer is service.”

Are you kidding me?!  you angrily yell at your cell, concluding things will not happen so you abandon your table on the terrace, making your way out of the restaurant when you see him: J with a woman, getting reading to have dinner.

You stomp towards them, antagonized.

“Is this seat taken?” you touch one of the two extra chairs, yanking it away.

“Yes,” the woman stares you down, confused. “We are expecting company.”

“Cool !” and you drop on it, nonchalantly grabbing an extra menu and reading through it.

J ignores you, continuing to gaze at his.

“Who is this, Mister J?” she frets, appalled somebody has the audacity to interrupt them.

“The Black Plague,” he snarls, sucking on his silver teeth, calm and composed. His favorite nickname for you.

“Can you tell her to leave, please?”

“It’s a free country. If you want her to leave, tell her yourself.”

The woman is very confused and you interrupt:

“So what are we having?”

“Lamb,” The Joker shortly responds, closing his menu.

“I’ll have the same,” you decide. “What do you want?” you address the woman and she is lost. “Mister J, what’s going on? I thought we’re on a date.”

“We are.”

“It’s very awkward,” she complains.

“I love awkward,” you serenely smile, apparently without a care in the universe.

“I don’t!” the woman snaps and J retaliates:

“If you don’t like it, disappear!”

Her mouth opens and before she protests, you enunciate with an indifferent tone:

“I’m pregnant.”

“Why?” he debates on the question, skeptical.

“Why what?” you continue, scratching your arm.

“Why are you telling me? You need a father for your kid?”

“Nope, I thought you would want to know,” and the woman feels out of place since her presence is totally disregarded by both parties. “You want a paternity test?”

“Naahh, I will spare you the embarrassment of everyone finding out I’m not the dad.” “More like you want to spare yourself the embarrassment of finding out you are the dad after creating such a fuss over it,” your confident comeback makes the woman abandon her seat and The Joker doesn’t acknowledge the move.

“This is ridiculous! We are on a date! I can’t…”

“Then get lost!” he rolls his eyes. “Or stay! Your choice, allright?!”

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

“Daaaadyyyyy,” you hear Emma’s mouse voice and open your eyes, still tired as hell. You fell asleep inside the walk-in closet again: it’s been your refuge and sanctuary lately, the only space that keeps the demons at bay. Surrounded by his clothes and everything he left behind, you don’t come out of the sacred hideout for hours.

“Daadddyyyy,” your daughter little feet run up and down the stairs: she’s searching for her father again. The poor child believes J is playing hide-and-seek with her, that’s why he’s not around. Sometimes you join the quest, finding your troubled mind actually hoping he would just show up out of nowhere and brag about how amazingly diligent he is since his girls couldn’t find him. An idiot’s hope, fueled by your daughter’s innocence and you own sorrow…

“Y/N,” Frost knocks at the door, “I brought food, come and eat.”

You lick your dry lips, remembering you didn’t even drink water today.

“I’m not hungry,” you yawn, adjusting your body on the air mattress and turning on the laptop.

“You have to eat; Emma’s hungry, come on,” he insists and you obey, not in the mood for anything.

You roll off your current bed, cracking your stiff bones as you stretch. Somehow it’s even hard to breathe. After a couple of minutes you are finally out of the closet and find your daughter at the table in the kitchen, already munching on some mashed potatoes. You really don’t know what you would do without Jonny; he takes care of her and everything else since you are incapable of being a full time mother or tend to any business.

“Mommy, look,” she proudly shows you her plate, excited to see you for the day.

You kiss her forehead and sadly smile, not touching your food.

“Eat mommy,” Emma tries to feed you. “This is f’om meeee,” she drags the word and you are familiar with the game so you accept the tiny spoon. More mashed potatoes come your way. “And this is f’om daaadddyyy,” you daughter giggles and you can’t even chew. But you pull yourself together as she goes on: “This is f’om meeeee… …This is f’om daaaddddyyy.”

You forcefully eat and can’t stop the tears anymore when the inevitable question arises:

“Whe’s daddy, hm?” and she looks around, probably wanting to feed him also.

“Daddy’s not here,” and you abruptly get up and run away, bumping into Frost that is coming over with more food.

“Hey, Y/N, did you eat already?!”

You don’t reply and go back to your oasis, crying so hard you can’t focus as you go through the laptop, looking at pictures and videos, precious memories that summarize your only hope for some kind of closure. You accidentally click on “Accounts”, then want to back out when a subfolder gets your attention: “For The Black Plague.”

What is this? you wipe your eyes, not having a clue about what it would be: you rarely go into “Accounts” on your laptop because J had all the links on his and kept track of the money more than you did.

You double click on it and it opens up a video icon, dated 6 months ago.

How intriguing.

Click again and…

“So only watch this if I’m dead, OK?” The Joker’s face popping up on the screen makes you gasp. “Are you still watching?… Well, I guess I’m dead then. First thing first: don’t cry. Your eyes get so puffy you look like a blow-up fish! Very unattractive! It’s 2 in the morning, I am in my boxers and after you totally ignored my request for sex, I guess I’m bored enough to make this stupid video. What is that?!” he turns around and you can see yourself in the background, sleeping, completely out of it. “Is that snoring? Huffing? Puffing? The Queen of Gotham, making all those sounds! Geez, woman,” and J faces the camera again, tucking his messy green hair behind the ears.

“Anyway, in case you were wondering, yes, I hate you. I hate so much that I had a kid with you,” his husky voice announces. “I guess that says it all. E-hem,” J fake coughs and you are mesmerized, can’t even breathe. “Hey, Princess!” he yells, “I’m horny, wake up!” Some mumbling about being tired is heard, you don’t recall anything. “For the record, this is a direct threat to my health,” his blue eyes stare at the camera. “ I have to be able to walk tomorrow so I must insist. Hey, Princess!” he yells louder. “I’m horny, come on, wake up!”

A faint answer, can’t even understand what you said.

“Wow, that tired, hm? Don’t care. I’m gonna get laid no matter what,” and that cocky grin gets you out of trance for a second. “It’s a miracle we got a kid out of this relationship. Before I go, here’s the deal: since I obviously died first, I’ll wait for you. Don’t take too long: try not to live until you’re a hundred or something, you are aware I get easily bored. Then after you come, we’ll wait together for the kiddo, ok?”

Then he stops, thinking about what just came out of his mouth.

“Oh my God, see what being horny and ignored makes me do ?! I talk about a bunch of stupid stuff; it’s all your fault !!!” he scrunches up his face, squirming in the recliner. Then it seems J is having an interior struggle about his final words. “Are you gonna make me say it?” and you involuntarily clench to your shirt. “Fine, I’ll say it again: I hate you. You know what that translates into? Do you?… It translates into I don’t like you. What?! Were you expecting I love you? Pfft, in your dreams, woman, get over yourself; you’re not that special,” The Joker hisses. “I might delete this since it’s complete garbage. I’ll decide after you take care of my needs.”

And his finger goes over the camera, the video coming to a halt.

You are so overwhelmed your body is petrified, looking around the closet and expecting for something to happen. But nothing happens, so you sigh, replaying the video over and over again until you fall back to sleep.

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

Emma crawls by J, sucking on her binky, trying to climb up his foot.

“You’re pretty helpless, aren’t you?” he scoffs, watching her retry and dropping back on her little butt numerous times until crying starts.

“For heaven’s sake, why can’t you just do it?” and he helps her up, firmly pressing the 6 months old against his leg. She clutches to his pants and starts smiling so widely that the pacifier falls out of her mouth.

“What, you’re happy now?” and that almost toothless, sweet smile makes him groan.“You’re not a cute baby, you know that?”

“Stop saying that to our daughter, she is cute!” you get mad since you heard him.

“You’d think she would be better looking kid: I’m handsome and the mom is not that hideous,” The Joker blares out a bunch of obnoxious unfunded opinions.  

You snatch her from him, frowning.

“Let’s go, sweetie. Daddy’s just a bitter, cranky man!” “Watch it, Y/N!” he shouts after you as you leave the premises and after a while a door gets slammed, then the elevator descending makes him aware you left.

Great, he gazes at the ceiling, already knowing where you’re headed.

He didn’t contact you in a week, you didn’t bother either. Just stayed at your apartment like you usually do when things go sour. And they go sour very often.

It’s the middle of the night and you go check on Emma when you realize the nightlight in her room is on. You quietly approach and peep inside from behind the wall: J is there, holding the little one in his arms.

“You are cute,” he kisses her forehead. “I just don’t like you too much.”

You decide to make your presence known.

“What are you doing here? You came to see your ugly baby?”

The Joker growls, full of spite.

“Why didn’t you bring her over?! It’s been a week!”

You lift your shoulders up, grouchy and resentful.

“Why bother? You’ll be mean to her and she doesn’t deserve it.”

“Shut up and stop aggravating me! You’re coming back to the penthouse first thing in the morning.”

“No!”

But fighting him is pointless.

“You can’t keep a father from his child; it’s illegal!” J throws that in your face and it sounds so silly you chuckle.

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

“Da’yy,” Emma babbles and J drops the cellphone in his lap.

“Did she just…did she just say daddy?!” he inquires and you snort.

“I think so,” and you watch the one year old hesitantly stepping towards a fascinated Joker.

“Can you say it again?” he lifts her in his arms, probably expecting a full conversation. He’s that type of person.

But Emma just baby talks, preoccupied with his crazy colored hair.

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

“Daaadyy, Daaaddyyyy, Daaaddddyy, la, laaa, la, Dadddyyyyy, la, la,laaaa,” the two year old keeps on singing, walking her Doll on her father’s knees.

He’s getting a headache: she’s been singing that for the past 15 minutes, completely insensitive to her parent’s pain.

“Pumpkin, are you going to stop soon?!”

The singing gets louder and you have to underline:

”Aren’t you excited you have your own song? I don’t!”

“Ughhh, lucky me,” The Joker grumbles but caresses her tiny head.

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

“Mom, mom, wake up, you’re talking in your sleep again.”

First thing you see upon awakening is Emma, sitting on the bed and holding your hand. She is 35 now, almost the same age you were when you lost J.

You got so sick in the last month. You had walking pneumonia and didn’t even know until you fainted in the living room. Added to your heart disease and other complications, your health doesn’t seem to improve, only worsen day by day. Your daughter refuses to leave your side, even if you tell her you’re fine.

“I dreamed about your father again,” you confess. “Dreams about a long time ago, when you were a baby…”

She softly laughs, kissing your hand.

“Did you dream about when we used to look for him all over the place?”

“How do you know?” you smile, sliding up your pillows.

“You keep on repeating his name, mom,” Emma helps you up as you kind of struggle to keep your balance.

“Let’s look for him again, we didn’t do it in so long!” you suddenly have an outburst of energy.

“Really?” she holds your waist as you walk outside your bedroom.

“Humor an old woman, would you?” you beg, playing the weakling mother.

“Fine,” your daughter agrees. “Let’s search for him. Daadddddd!!!!” she raises her voice and you follow.

“Jaaaaayyyyyyy!!!!!!” and you search the penthouse in every room, even the closets.

“He’s nowhere to be found…again…” you get sad and Emma feels guilty.

“Mom, come on, don’t get upset.”

“Why can’t we ever find him?…” and your teary eyes make hers the same. “I don’t feel too good, kiddo, help me back downstairs.”

“Did you take your meds, mom? You must have high blood pressure again.”

“Stupid pills !! My heart disease it’s from a broken heart, can’t fix that,” you repeat to the young woman like you always do when she asks about the meds.

Emma places you back to bed, tucking you in.

“I’ll bring some water for your tablets. You have to take your antibiotics too. Did you eat anything today?”

“Of course!” you lie, dizzy and drained.

“I don’t believe you. I’ll warm up some food and I’ll be back shortly, ok?”

“Stubborn like your dad,” you playfully slap her thigh.

“Stubborn like both, from what I’ve heard,” she points out the truth, exiting the room.

You want to reach for the remote so you can turn on the TV, but the sudden, sharp ache in your heart knocks you out of breath. You try to call Emma’s name but the sounds freeze on your lips. The piercing pain claws at your chest and your vision gets cloudier. The second wave of throbbing ache calms your labored breathing and as you close your eyes forever, you hear his voice so clearly:

“Finally, Princess, what took you so long ?!”

Also read: MASTERLIST

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