#If I survive the 7 hour trip to get there

[nonagalleryart]

I am at Aberdeen Comic Con this weekend and wanted to create a special t-shirt design for the event. So after talking with some lovely people in Glasgow I will be debuting this little chonk at the con. Come say hi if you’re going!

[enterstellars]

and with that i do believe that my run with interstellar in imax has come to an end.

[racke7]

Today I got confirmation from my boss. This summer is going to absolutely suck for me.

[kanmom51]

This one is kind of personal and a lot mushy

(And as I'm writing this, a bit of a rant as well)

*Be advised.😅

Been a bit.

Well, I was kind of busy. On one of those 'once in a lifetime' trips you take to celebrate a big one, this one being my 30th wedding anniversary.

And while I was on this trip (and I am sure to share some pics, cause why not, seeing we got some spectacular ones) I got to thinking about Jikook. Because, who doesn't think about Jikook on their 30th anniversary trip, right?

Let's be real for a sec. Who doesn't think about Jikook ALL THE DAMN TIME?

Obsessed much?

Hell yeah!!!😂

Proudly admitting it!!

Look at those two:

Can you seriously blame me?

Nah, but seriously.

I couldn't help but think about who I am, where I've come from, how my partner and myself came to be, our love and respect for each other, how we fought through everything life swings at you and how our love not only survived all of it but seems to have flourished even more. I can honestly say that I love my husband today even more than I did when we got married. It's a different kind of love. A mature love. A love that survived many trials and tribulations. Some you know of when you tie the knot but many more you don't expect.

And thinking of us I couldn't help but think about those two young men and how they met, what brought them together, how they connected, how they have been through so much together, the hardships, the struggles, the amazingly good and the terribly bad, all making their bond even stronger.

There are those that cannot fathom how 2 young beautiful talented men could be in a committed relationship when they have this whole smorgasbord of beautiful people just wanting to lay a hand on them. Everyone wants a piece of them and here they are in a committed relationship with each other? A long term committed relationship? How ever could that be?

When you love someone to the core, which is exactly how those two feel (people can deny it all they want, but it won't change the facts, these two have chosen each other every single time over anything and anyone else), when you get to know that one person and fall deeply in love with them, know their ins and outs, know their flaws and issues, seen them at their best and at their worst. When they are happy or sad, healthy or sick, elated or furious, and find them attractive through and through, still want to be by their side.

No.

Need to be by their side.

Want to be there when they are happy, share their joy, but also be there when they are sad or down and stand by their side to support them through it (even with and despite all those flaws and issues and difficulties that at times can also infuriate you and basically make you want to ring their necks at certain points in time) there is no love (between partners) deeper than that.

I do know, we all should, that what they experienced and how they are living cannot be compared to us regular folk. Their circumstances are such that they have to deal not only with an industry and society that deems them as 'wrong' (that includes a big chunk of their own fandom btw), but also a lifestyle that is nothing like the one we know or have experienced. The hours, the cameras in their faces close to 24/7 (up until their break and hiatus and even prior to that during the pandemic - which btw is one of the reasons people have gone mad at that point given we stopped getting an influx of BTS content for such a long time), growing up and maturing in the limelight, enjoying the fame and exposure at first and then fighting for privacy and 'anonymity' when you realize there is a price to that fame. None of us have experienced that. Yes, we can find the similarities and by extension make conclusions about them, but at the same time we always need to remember that their lives are different than ours and that we cannot always hold them to the same standards of behavior that we are used to in our own lives and relationships.

This is beside the point that every relationship is different. I will just say this. A healthy long term relationship is built on 2 or more (I ain't judging) individuals that stand as their own person and chose to be with the other/s. They don't necessary have to have the exact same interests or likes. What they do need is to love, respect, trust each other and understand that part of that is allowing your significant other to do what they love, even if it means doing it without you. Even if it means doing it with someone else. You all know where I'm getting with this right? Going out with others, travelling with others, drinking with others, spending time with others, choosing to spend time alone without your significant other, none of them diminish from your relationship if indeed it's building blocks are solid. And brace yourselves (well, those that are in long term relationships know this already...), but all of the above actually helps maintain your relationship. Can make it better and stronger.

I've been lurking a little on SM, even while away, only to find that once again, or should I say still (surprise surprise... NOT) there are those that are doubting the bond that these two young men have. It's solos and cultists trying to create an alternative universe in which JK and JM are not close and even distanced (some would love for them to actually hate each other - good luck with that psychos). Or it's once again those insecure 'Jikookers' that seem to need that constant affirmation from a real life queer couple that most certainly will not be giving them that. I keep asking myself why is it that a couple like JM and JK need to constantly prove they are together (all while they actually can't come out and say it due to their circumstances - industry and society they live in), when a heterosexual couple, say Zendaya and Tom, for example, are not expected to? How come a blurry clip (which I still say is fake) released at a very suspicious point in time, together with other obviously edited clips and serious claims of misconduct that are clearly made up and were intended to cause JK harm, have more of an impact on them than years and years of interactions, talk, actions (including just before the clip was released and after it as well)? And now another blurry clip that people are going all crazy over. Like seriously, what is wrong with people? Is the lack of content driven them mad? No drama so we need to create it? Well, thing is that when you are in a healthy committed long term relationship there is not much drama. That's the way it is when you are settled and happy and know who you are and who you love and know that they feel the same about you. Arguments, disagreements, bad days - sure. That's life. But at the end of the day if people want drama they should go watch one on TV.

So, how do I put it to make is as clear as possible?

These insecurities we get from some of the fans, they work like clockwork. Every single time, in the past, when we didn't get much from the two there were these whispers and question marks regarding their relationship. Not even if they are still together, but down to the core of their bond, as to even question if they are close or friends. This phenomenon goes way back.

But since end of 2021 beginning of 2022, when they were on their break and later the hiatus into 2023 it blew up like a full on hydrogen bomb.

This got worse after they were assigned their own 'personal' IG accounts and went on their break.

The misconception by many that these accounts were somehow their private accounts that they use to interact with each other, I can't call it anything other than delusional. Sorry not sorry. And if people did not realize that themselves if only from the lack of posting or interaction with whoever, then we had the members themselves telling us that they regularly interact within their own private chat groups. That photos shared on IG with us have been previously shared with the others in those groups. These IG accounts were created to maintain contact between the members and their fans, knowing that the group is going into hiatus and that they will each be promoting their own individual solo projects. Yes, the group Twitter (X) account could be used for that, but there was an attempt to create a more 'personal' connection between each member and Army. These accounts were work, as simple as that, and them reacting to other members or talking with each other through these accounts was not an indication what so ever to whether they were in touch or not otherwise.

At the time, back in early 2022, when people were reeling over the lack of interaction between the two on their IG accounts I tried to explain that a. not seeing something most definitely does not mean it's not there (something those two made sure to prove time and time again over the past couple of years), and b. that the lack of interaction can actually be an indication to them spending most of their time together, as there is no need to comment on another's post when you are right there to tell them whatever it is you want to tell them to their face. Not to mention, and this part is all me, so take or leave it as you will, but some of said IG posts, well, how do I put it? I guess I just say it as it is... some of these photos posted were either taken by the other or they were right there or really near by when it was taken. There. I said it. In any case, the fact that these were the only two not to interact with each other in front of Army's face, out of the whole group, that, to me, meant they were the ones spending most of the time together.

Oh, and let's just address the whole fanservice stupidity surrounding those two once and for all.

If they were all about fanservice, how is it that since that during the break in 2021-2022 and then during the hiatus and their solo endeavors, we were robbed of said fanservice? Wouldn't you expect that the fanservice couple, the scripted couple, be pushed during each other's promotions? How is it that we have seen during these periods of promotions every single other coupling other than JM and JK. Even JK visiting JM during his rehearsals was heavily edited. How come, if we are being sold a fake bond? No JK being forced to go visit JM when performing at the music shows. No JM being forced to do the same with JK. JM paired with Suga for an add for Busan (? that one was really an odd one for me). When did we see them? So yeah, people can scream fanservice all they want, but deep down inside they know it's a crap claim. I won't even go into JK's lives. There was not one ingenuine bone in his body, and that excitement seeing JM's comments, that coquettish behavior while interacting with him (especially during the bed live, OMG!!!), the reactions to the JM centered content he CHOSE to watch during those lives, none of that is scripted nor acted. It's all JK. All him. And JM's reaction when JK shows up at his documentary viewing live, that little butt wiggle in his chair (reminds me of Bam when happy to see his dad/s, as shown by JK), the face lighting up, the genuine worry on his face talking about JK working hard (during another couple of lives), again, not faked.

So yeah, not fanservice.

I digressed, I think.

Let's get back to 2022 why don't we?

On their break these crazy stories of heartbreak and breakup and hate and suffering and god knows what, only all to be thrown out of the window as soon as we got to see the two together again during the Seoul concerts and then LV. Oh LV. That was a wild ride.

Then BTS went on hiatus and the solo era began. And we were getting less and less ot7 content, and once again the insecurities. These ups and downs (you know, the whole JITB party stories about them not being together - that was countered by the BTB that followed a while after), then Busan concert's high, then 2023's downs and ups and downs and ups and fruck it all, I'm sea sick from this stupidity.

Same exact stories were repeated in 2023!!!

Especially after THE CLIP "which shall not be named" dropped.

SAME EXACT TO THE T STORIES!!!

But again, I digress.

Insecurity regarding the two and their bond (seeing they aren't in the public eye) followed by realization that everything is as it was (if not even better and stronger) once we see them together again. And the reason we don't see them together while on break... wait for it... is because they are a private couple living their everyday life, not for the cameras, not for Army, but for THEMSELVES.

Who would have thought.

And when they are together, as in working together, either filming or shooting or performing, well their bond can't be hidden, as much as they might have to wind it down at times (which is mainly not when they are on stage hyped up on adrenaline, lol), seeing that this is still Kpop, with fandoms that feel ownership over them, not to mention them being a queer couple. You know. All the usual reasons.

This idea people have that these two owe us something. That they constantly have to prove their bond, their connection, their relationship. What utter bull.

Anyway, what a slap in the face (for some a good wake up call, for others a well deserved one) the news of them choosing to enlist together was for so many.

Bottom line is, repeated for the millionth time, that these two young men have shown us time and time again that when push comes to shove they will chose one another!!!

I feel like I'm all over the place here. Came to talk about my trip and ended up talking about fanservice and insecurity and god knows what. I guess it's the jetlag (yeah, let's go with that and blame it on the jetlag).

In any case I will go with my favorite saying as of late:

Why this whole long word vomit, you may ask (or you might not ask, who knows, lol)?

What the hell does this have to do with my trip?

Nothing...?

Probably, lol.

But I am going to try to connect the dots. Even if they did make sense in my mind when I first started writing this post and no longer do...

How about the fact that the two chose to take these trips together?

See how I did that? Connecting the unconnected?

Not even going to ask the egg-chicken question here, as I am quite positive it was always about the trips and the show/content for army was the excuse that allowed them to travel 'for work', and a little bonus of content for army when they are away - not to mention perhaps even an opportunity for a soft outing, who knows.

They wanted to spend this time together before enlistment.

We know of at least 3 trips. Connecticut, Jeju and Japan (the Jeju trip may or may not be part of that 'show').

We are yet to know what exactly this 'show' will be. Will it be an actual show, style BV or ITS? Will it be a Vlog? Will we be getting actual episodes or several minute clips? But one thing for sure. Whatever we get, it will be a drop in a lake of the time they spent together. They went on these trips to be together. They shot this 'show' to allow them to be on these trips. This 'show' will give us a glimpse, no more than that, of what they got up to while together. Bottom line - it's about them, not the show and definitley not us.

So yeah, tripping together (lol, as in traveling, just felt like using that fun word, which can mean so much more as well) is something couples love to do, and going on said trips prior to a huge life changing event (let's be real here, going into the military for 18 months, especially knowing that to be able to enlist TOGETHER, they will be placed in one of the harsher units and environments, knowing that even though they will be together they most certainly will not have the freedoms they enjoy prior to enlistment), well that is something they would do as well.

To sum this whole rant up:

I came here to show off some pics from my trip...

If Jikook are allowed to (and god help them all if we don't get that show eventually...), then so am I...

The scenery...

And the wild life

So there you have it.

I managed to talk about my trip and about Jikook all in one long ranty post.

To those that managed to work their way through it I have this to say:

[measuredingold]

7:15

author's note: hello hello hello ! the jolly fic i promised last month. on a roll :-) i have a few trips coming up and i wanted to get this sweet lil fic out before i was away from home. i haven't wrote much for jolly and i just really like how this came out. short and sweet, domestic as fuck. as always, i hope you enjoy and feedback is always appreciated !

pairing: joakim karlsson x reader

cross-posted on ao3

word count: 1.9k

cw/tags: fluff, sweet domestic tooth-rotting fluff, established relationship, maybe some angst but it lasts 2 seconds, kissing, ~suggestive~ content, 18+ minors do not interact

Jolly wakes up slowly, a groan slipping from his lips as he stretches his limbs out across the bed. He pauses, realizing the spot beside him was unoccupied and cold, and a frown settles on his lips. Blinking, he sits up and stretches out his limbs again with another groan, looking beside him to confirm that yes, the other side of the bed is definitely empty. 

He doesn't panic, no, because he sees the bedroom door has been left ajar only slightly, but enough to let him hear you downstairs. It's a distant sound, muffled, but he can hear the clambering and chattering of pans in the kitchen and the faint hum of music. The frown on his lips slips away and a smile replaces it soon after, heart twisting. 

He loves mornings like this with you. With their more than hectic schedule now, mornings like this are few and far in-between, so he tries to never take it for granted. Even though he'd much rather drag you back into bed with him and sleep a few more hours, (he flinches at the time on the clock, 7:15), he throws his legs over the side of the bed and pushes himself up. He hisses as his feet meet the cold floor but braves it, shuffling out of your shared bedroom and down the stairs. 

The music gets louder the closer he gets to the kitchen and he's not sure what it is, something easy to listen to early in the morning. Some morning indie playlist you found on Spotify, he's sure. He smiles again when he finds you in sweatpants and an old shirt of his, hair pulled back out of your face. Your back is facing him, humming along to whatever song is playing, and he leans against the wall beside him. Jolly doesn't remember the last time he was able to just... admire you from afar. He's always in your space whenever he's home, the both of you wanting to spend as much time with each other as you can, never leaving each other's side. 

He likes seeing you like this. As corny as it sounds, this is the most beautiful he thinks you are. Still sleepy he’s sure, still in your pajamas, hair thrown in a messy ponytail, cooking breakfast for the both of you. It's something he'll never get tired of.  

After a solid two minutes of silently watching you, he shuffles over to where you stand and doesn't waste time in wrapping his arms around your middle, lips meeting your shoulder.

"Good morning."

"Was waiting for you to come over here." You hum and instantly melt back into his chest. "Were you just watching me in silence?"

"Maybe."

"Creep." 

But he can hear the smile in your voice, which makes him smile, and he presses a kiss to the side of your head before untangling himself from you, leaning against the counter to your right. 

"What's on the menu this morning?" He questions, eyeing the eggs in the pan.

"Eggs and waffles. Wanted some turkey bacon with it too, but was deeply disappointed to find out that we were out." You send him a pout before focusing back on cooking.

"Oh, you poor thing. How will you ever survive?" He teases before reaching out to poke your side gently, causing you to squeak. "I’ll make sure to add it to our ever growing list. You still want to do that today, right?"

"At some point." You nod before reaching over to turn the stove off and then reaching for one of the waffle filled plates that were placed behind him - two for you, three for him. "We also need to clean this place up before you leave. The living room makes me want to peel my skin off... and don't even get me started on your studio."

He hums, almost in an afterthought, and watches you plate the eggs. "We have time, love."

"I know, I just..." You trail off, continuing to plate the food and he watches as your brows begin to furrow like they always did when you were in thought.

He reaches up and rubs his thumb in between your brows. "Your face will get stuck like that."

"Shut up." You grumble, but your face relaxes for just a moment. "I just like having the place clean before you leave. Makes it feel better when you're gone."

It's his turn to frown, brows furrowing as he stares at you. He knows it rough when he leaves. Leaving you here all alone while he's off traveling with the band isn’t an easy thing to do. If it was his choice, he'd bring you with him every time, but he can't. You have responsibilities here... and unfortunately, his responsibilities are elsewhere most of the time.

He doesn't leave for another three weeks, though, and usually you're asking him to help clean up around the house the week prior. Something is obviously bothering you.

"What's on your mind?"

You sigh, sitting the spatula down on the counter after you finally finished plating. "I just... this time feels different. Don’t you think?” 

Jolly cocks and eyebrow up at you. "How so?"

"I don't know." You shrug and come to stand before him, leaning into him and resting your forehead against his shoulder. His arms wrap around you instantly, pulling you closer to him. "You guys are getting bigger, which is amazing. Don't ever think I hate that because I don't, but... the bigger you get means the more tours you get. The more tours you get means..."

You don't say it, voice trailing off, but he knows what your next words will be. The more tours you get means the less time at home. With you. His frown deepens at that.

"Baby..."

"And I don't want to sound selfish. Seriously, I don't! I'm so fucking proud of you, Joakim. All of you. Some of the most deserving people I've ever met, but I..." You sigh again, almost in defeat, and he feels you press closer to him, voice muffled. "I miss you. More than I usually do. It used to be easier, and it still is because I know you'll always come back, but..."

The silence that follows breaks his heart. 

He does remember this last time being away in Europe was a little rougher than normal, constantly thinking about you, wishing you were there with him. It might be because last time they were there you were with him, taking leave from work to join him on their European headliner for this new album. The only thing that really got him through was the fact he knew that when he got home, you'd be right there waiting for him.

"But?" 

"But... it just sucks." You pull back just enough to look up at him, a sad smile settling on your lips. "Wish I could just go with you and not worry about anything else.”

"You could," He's quick to respond. "You've always had that option."

"I know." You mumble, face pressing back against his shoulder. "I feel bad, though. Making you support the both of us. Plus, you know how much I hate flying. I couldn't stand it." 

Jolly laughs at the tiny groan you let out, probably remembering your flight last year to the UK with him and the rest of the band. You had begged Matt to switch seats with you, so he could be by the window and you in the aisle with Jolly squished between you two. One look out the window - while you were still on the ground - had sent you in a spiral. He remembers having to hold your hand the entire flight, and when it was allowed, lifting up the armrest so you could press yourself into his side. He hadn't minded it one bit, finding it endearing that you put all your trust in him to keep you safe.

"You and flying don't mix well." He teases, hands now rubbing up and down your arms. "But... you know I don't mind providing for you."

"I know you don't."

"And I love taking care of you."

"I know you do." You whine, pulling back again to pout up at him. "But you know I can't let you do that. My brain tells me no."

"Tell your brain to get over it and let your boyfriend take care of you." He leans forward, planting a kiss to the center of your forehead. He feels your arms circle around his middle and he smiles against your skin.

"If only it were that easy." He pulls back to find you still staring at him, but a smile has since replaced the pout on your lips. "This'll only suck for a little bit, then it'll become our new norm and it'll get easier. I'm just cranky about it now, but I know we'll figure it out."

"We always figure it out." He hums. "Just tell me what you need from me to make it easier on you while I'm away, and I'll do it."

"There's nothing you can do.” You pause. “Except, maybe, right now… a kiss could possibly fix my cranky mood."

He watches your gaze drop from his down to his lips, and then back up, your own lips puckering dramatically. Jolly huffs out a laugh before happily obliging and leans down, lips pressing against yours gently. Nothing too crazy, a sweet peck, because he still hasn't brushed his teeth, and he pulls back seconds later.

"I love you." You say happily, eyes fluttering shut briefly. 

"I love you, too, baby."

"Alright, I’m not allowed to complain for the rest of the day. Let's eat before all my hardwork gets cold." You step on your tip-toes to press a kiss to his cheek before pulling away entirely, reaching around him for both of your plates. "And maybe after, shower? Then go grocery shopping? The fridge is running on fumes... I think I used the last of the eggs and we have maybe half a glass of milk left."

He perks up at that, following you over to the chairs that sit at the island in the middle of the kitchen, plucking his plate from your hands before settling down in his chair. "A shower, you say?"

"Of course that's the only thing you heard." You deadpan, but he doesn't miss the smirk on your lips.

"Sorry. You know my brain likes to focus on the important stuff."

"Perv." You tease, but the smirk has finally settled on your lips fully. "Does that sound good, though?"

"Mhm. Sounds good to me, love."

"Oh! And maybe later we could go to the thrift store we wanted to check out last week? Hit up some other shops, too."

"Oooh, yes. That sounds like a perfect plan.”

It's almost as if the worry from earlier is forgotten as your conversation continues through breakfast, and when you're finished putting your dirty dishes away and dragging him up the stairs to go shower (among other things), Jolly knows that the two of you will eventually figure it out. He knows you two can weather any storm, just like you have for the last few years, and that these worries won't mean much to the two of you in the future. He knows wherever he goes, you’ll be right there waiting for him, and he hopes you know he’d do the same for you.

[warvariations]

Okay where to start....

Within the same week and while extremely ill with a flu from hell I had to pack up both my Berlin and Athens apartments. The Athens apartment I'm renting out to this really cool woman I met recently while the Berlin one will be taken by the son of a friend of ours. After that we flew to Rome where we spent an afternoon and from there we flew to Shanghai where we got a hotel for a few hours which made the trip so much more bearable cause our first flight was so bad, we were sitting behind these italians who like either had sex in plain sight or yelled the entire time and the bathrooms were so disgusting it was a scene out of my nighthmares. From Shangai we flew to Auckland where we spent 3 days at Oliver's dad's during which I acted extremely autistic cause I had exhausted my ability to be normal in order to survive the journey and the weeks that preceded it. From Auckland we flew to Dunedin where we booked the tiniest airbnb (I forgot to mention we have like 7 suitcases) and we went to apartment viewings for days until we got an offer which we accepted this morning. The house is just about a km from the beach but also very well connected to the center and it has 3 bedrooms plus a studio, a kitchen that comfortably fits a dining table, a sunroom, a studio, a lounge and a garden but the floor is quite uneven (house is sloping towards the sea lol) which I suppose is the reason why it had been on the market for a bit. Our application was also strong though, we had written a whole cute cover letter already months ago, I don't think anyone else did that. Btw it was funny how we kept bumping into the same people at viewings. I'm still heartbroken over two houses that were offered before we could get a viewing but I suppose I'll get over it. I got my period just as we arrived which means I've been a monster and Oliver said he's basically gonna leave me if I don't get help but nobody's gonna save me from this body unfortunately. But I need to stop yelling at people, that's something I might manage to do one day. So yeah we have a house!! We're gonna go to Wellington for a few days and then to Oliver's mom's and then we're coming back and moving in properly even though the deposit will swallow the entirety of our savings so I'm not sure how we're going to buy a bed etc. One step at a time I guess...

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for being ungrateful?

So my(25M) car broke down and my grandma(65F) has been letting my borrow hers for the past year since she can't use it anyways (her hip is really bad and she's on the 3rd floor so she can't even make it to the car). My younger brother(23M) lives with her and has been doing the grocery shopping. Recently his car broke down so grandma needs her car back so my brother can go to work and do groceries. She also is finally fully recovered from her hip surgery so she she wants it back so she can get around again.

We agreed for me to drop it off tomorrow, which happens to be my birthday. She asked me to show up no later than 11 but I pushed back on that and said I'd rather come a bit before 1 when my brother is going to take off for work.

I live in a city with shit parking so I've been driving it from work to a train station and taking the train the rest of the way home. So I would first need to take the train to the car and then drive the car to her place so that's 2 hours. I also need to pack up my animals bc she wants me to spend the night and I don't have anybody who can feed them while I'm gone and I refuse to just not feed them for a day even if "they'd survive". So I'm expecting needing an hour and a half to get ready and get my animals settled(a dog and a cat, their toys, food, litter box and cats meds).

So to get there by 11 I'd have to wake up by 7:30 and I wanted to sleep in a bit bc it's Saturday and my birthday so that's why I wanted to come later.

When I told her it would take me a while to get there she said she wanted to go shopping before my brother took off with the car. I asked her to give me the list so I can just grab her groceries on my way there. She said she's been real nice letting me have her car for so long so I should just do what I'm told.

I think she wants the car back bc she's antsy to have a reason to get out of the house, which is fair enough, but I'm not thrilled by the guilt trip. I feel like she's expecting obedience in exchange for help, which I don't think is actually fair, but I don't know if I'm in the right for thinking that or if that is indeed the situation.

What are these acronyms?

[tripleglitchwriting]

Ignition (Short 1)

CW: mostly fluff, mentions of war (both human and cybertronian)

Because I accidentally set the poll to a week rather than a day, I’m going to bridge the gap with a short story.

This is set shortly after part 4 because I like writing dialogue.

After the initial heart attack that was the last 48 hours or so, you began to feel more comfortable with this giant alien. He was kind, which was something you figured out after he saved your life, and he assured you he wasn’t going to kill you.

Now you were cupped in his hands while he walked back to this pod of his.

“So, what’s this pod thing we’re going to? Is it like a space ship?”

“Escape pod.” Ratchet remembered the crash. Well, he remembered what he could of it. Suddenly an old worry popped into his head.

“Right, right, escape pod.”

“Your injury, it wasn’t from… the crash, was it?”

“Oh, no, I fell down a cliff. It sounds stupid when I say it out loud.” Ratchet stifled an ex-vent of relief. “I was on a hike but I got lost, and then I started to panic because I don’t know how to survive in the wild, and then I panicked too hard and tripped in the worst spot imaginable.”

“You went out into an unknown area with no experience on how to survive there or any contingency plan if things went wrong?” He said with a mix of worry and vague frustration.

“Well there was a path… but there was also cool flowers off the path, and then I saw a rare bird, and then the path was gone. I really don’t know why I thought it would be a good idea to come out here, I should have known better. I was doing fine at home I just… I don’t know.”

“Does your kind usually do things like this?”

“No, not really. Just me.”

“I see. Are you… no offense, but are you the dominant species on this planet?”

“What? I mean, I guess, we’re the only ones that can talk and all. That we know of. Actually, it would probably be a shock to the world if they found out about you. Knowing us we’d probably start attacking or something.”

“Attack? Why would you do that?”

“Well, I mean, I wouldn’t, but I’ve taken enough history classes to know as a whole we can be… violent. I hope no one else saw you crash, things could get nasty if they see you as a threat.”

“Thats… quite primitive.”

“Oh, gee thanks.”

“No offense.”

“Probably should have led with that.”

“I’ll keep it in mind.” Ratchet hummed to himself for a second, and then he began to think out loud. “If they do find me at least I’ll be able to get away…”

“What makes you think that?”

“Well- I- I wouldn’t think your technology is exactly…”

“Not up to par with your superior standards? Well don’t worry about that. We have weapons that can wipe out the world in a span of hours. Every country has their hand over the big red launch button, and if they see you as too much to handle, somebody is going to get blown up.”

“What? That’s- that’s crazy! You mean to say your leaders would sacrifice… how ever many there are of you in a given area just to take me out?”

“They probably wouldn’t do straight to the nuclear option for one of you, but if there were more and they were killing people, then probably yeah. If things work like they do in the movies that is.” Ratchet paused, about to make some snide remark about the primitive violence of the human race, but he stopped when he remembered the history of his own people.

“…I’ll keep myself hidden then.”

“Oh, um, good. I wasn’t really expecting you to accept that so fast.”

“If my own history were any different I might not have.” He sank deeper into thought. “Doe, is there a medical station anywhere near here I can drop you off at?”

“Wait, I thought we were going to your pod?”

“We are, I just… I got caught up in healing you and… look, I’ll be honest, I don’t want you to get hurt. How many of you are there on this planet?”

“I- I don’t know, 7, maybe 8 billion?”

“Billio- scrap.”

“What? What’s wrong?”

“It’s fine, it’s nothing. Let’s just… talk about something else.”

“Well, alright I guess.” After you said that, both you and Ratchet stayed silent for an agonizingly awkward minute. You felt the sway of him walking waft through your entire body, a feeling you haven’t even began to get used to. He seemed largely unaware of this, at least to your knowledge, and instead looked forward with a serious expression.

“How about we talk about… the weather. It certainly is sunny today! And there are… uh, a couple clouds… wait, no that’s just a weird tree.”

“You aren’t great at small talk.”

“How about you try then?”

“…no.”

“Oh I see how it is. Fine, you’ll just have to deal with my terrible communication skills.” You took a deep breath, preparing to go on a rant about whatever was on your mind.

“Oh please don’t.”

“Unless you’re going to say something I will.”

“Alright, alright. What do you want me to talk about?”

“That’s up to you, conversation expert.” You smiled smugly up at him. He huffed in return.

For the next five minutes he talked about his life up to this point. His friends, his enemies, glossing over assumedly painful details. In your mind a picture started to form about all of this. He wasn’t just an alien, he was a person. A person with real relationships, real love and loss, real war, real family. You felt silly having not seen it before.

A friend. You’d like to think that’s what you were now, though it was tough to tell based on the way he acted. You wondered who all of his other friends could be, where they were, and you even went as far as to silently wish them well.

Arriving back at the pod, hopping off the hand of a giant alien that saved you from dying the woods, you realized this may have been more than you bargained for.

[sky4cherry]

ELABORATE ON THE LAST POST PLSSSSS

HEHEHEHE I LOVE YOU HOLD ON ANON

obviously,, johnny dally and bob aren’t making it out 🧍 let’s clear that up immediately

darry worked too hard to keep the house for me to see him giving it up and moving away, but i also think that the greasers are doomed to stay in tulsa regardless of other circumstances, because it’s all they know and at least they know for sure what they have to do to survive in tulsa specifically

soda (other than his heartbreak over sandy) is generally pretty happy go lucky so i don’t really think he wants anything more than to stay near his friends and family, and keep a steady job so he can have at least a little money to support the family he wants to make, all of which is doable if he stays in tulsa

two-bit mathews you will not get far in life if you keep refusing to get a job 🫶

i feel like, based off of the new ace lore, she’s pretty engrained in tulsa. she’s experienced so much there, and really i don’t think she’s leaving if the gang aren’t, especially two-bit (who will probably live with his mother for the rest of his life like bro 🧍 GET A JOB)

steve randle we all know you’re doomed to fail in general and i’m sorry for that because you hold a special place in my heart fr king

pony is the only one (out of everyone) i can see who would leave. he has his plans he made with johnny, and i think he probably spends the rest of his teenage years promising to make it real, even if johnny won’t be there to see it. he also has the intelligence to get into a decent college, which could be far away from tulsa (that was an accident LMAO), or which could lead him to getting a job that could have him moving away (darry and soda are not letting him go without a fight even though they want him to succeed)

PAUL HOLDEN. my paul lore is so deep and complex we don’t have time to unpack it all amidst this rn,, let’s just say i think paul’s dad is a piece of shit which means paul is really close with his mom, and he didn’t want to leave her alone (while his dad is constantly away for work) so in my head he goes to the best college within driving distance, even if it’s a few hours away. something about darry being content with his life in tulsa and paul being the one to stay by family circumstances,, anyway i’m SICK

chet,, you got your own post pookie

brill my long list of hcs for you goes insanely hard,, he’s got the picture perfect family fr i love you king 🫶 he is not going anywhere if his boys aren’t and is definitely not going anywhere without beverly

beverly my pookie with troubling hcs,, yea she is not getting out at ALL. in my mind she’s living with her aunt and uncle who make it very obvious they don’t view her the same way they view their sons, and her mom is m.i.a, while her dad is too focused with his new gf. brill and bev are getting married asap and finding a nice little house with a guest room for chet idc it’s canon to ME

marcia i want you to succeed sooo bad but you aren’t going anywhere if you’re that anxious 🙏 fr i do think both trip and marcia have a shot, but i feel like bob’s death leaves the socs wanting to stay together 24/7 which isn’t gonna happen if these two head off to college

CHERRY 🫶🫶🫶 cherry is staying in tulsa i actually don’t care. YES she could leave if she wanted to but she doesn’t want to!!! she’s seen and experienced what the divide within tulsa does, and she is spending the rest of her days helping greasers and socs alike at the hospital!! and i strongly believe she IS the one who puts the divide to its end!!!

[wannaeatramyeon]

Gun Park x Reader: this is our place (we make the rules)

Chapter 9 - Probably should read ch1 first

Gun has a new neighbour. Index: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Epilogue

Things get a little weird after that.

Gun has ample sexual experience but no relationship experience. He does not know how to take the next step.

(He does know how to pleasure you in bed... though he knows definitively that that’s not the best way to proceed.)

And you are a lost cause, having little experience of anything at all.

You both tiptoe along the blurred line between tentative friends and something more.

The routine continues though it’s not as easy as it once was. You are on edge, reading into every little thing, face blushing and voice stammering at the slightest flirtation or touch.

Gun is Gun. He is how he always is. 

Yet he pulls back a little, taking your reactions as hesitation and uncertainty about him.

It doesn’t stop his eyes lingering on your lips whenever you try to get your words out. 

For the first time in his life, there’s a hunger in him that he knows exactly how to satiate but finds his hands completely tied.

.

.

Gun is the one who graces your front door, a very unusual occurrence especially at this time in the morning. Fully dressed despite the early hours and a duffle bag at his side.

He waits for you to answer, hears your sluggish footsteps approach the door and wonders if this was what it was like for you all those months ago.

The door swings open, and he’s greeted with the sight of you still half asleep and hair wild.

(I want to see this every morning, a hopeful voice in his brain offers. One that has grown confident and loud. Louder than his bloodlust. Louder than his search for a successor.)

“Gun? What time is-” The sentence is cut off with a large yawn.

Even that. Gaping mouth, bleary eyes, the way the yawn travels through your body and you stretch - he finds it endearing.

“I’ll be gone for a few weeks on a business trip.”

Gun pinpoints the exact second his words take hold, your eyes flying open and all signs of sleep gone from your face.

“Few weeks?!”

A brief nod. “If it goes to plan”

“Are you,” you bite your lip, wondering if it’s too forward for you to ask but you choose to bite the bullet instead, “Are you going to keep in touch?”

“When I can, of course,” Gun doesn’t even hesitate, no doubt in his mind that he would.

He does hesitate at his next move though, for a fleeting moment, before he takes a leap of faith and hands you a small envelope.

“Open it when I’m gone.”

“Ok…” Your hands grip the edges tight.

It’s only a few weeks. You’ve already survived many weeks, months, years without him and he said he would be in touch. Why are you feeling such a pang of sadness? 

Gun sees your face drop, lips turning down into a frown and starting to wobble. So he allows himself a small indulgence. Gives in to something he has wanted to do for a while. 

He takes your hand, holding it firm in his, brings it up to his lips and kisses each knuckle. 

Gentle, delicate. He didn’t realise he could ever be this tender.

“Don’t miss me too much,” he murmurs against your skin.

.

.

As soon as Gun is gone, you tear open the envelope.

Out drops a note enclosed around a key, very similar to the one you have.

The handwriting you can never mistake for anyone else’s.

‘Treat my home as if it is your own. Look after it for me.’

Running your finger along the jagged edges, you check to see if this key is actually real and won’t disappear the next time you blink.

Feels solid enough.

You give your wrist a harsh pinch.

Ouch. Fuck. Not a dream either.

You’re not stupid. You know what a grand gesture this is, and one you didn’t think would come from Gun. 

Giving a key to someone else is huge. A big step in a relationship, an even bigger step for you and him because who knows what the hell this is.

Although it is expected, now you think about it. Everything he does has an intensity, never without purpose. 

And actually. A trusted neighbour having your house key is perfectly normal.

(Idiot, a mocking inner voice taunts, you know exactly what this is.)

You grab your phone and fire out a message immediately.

You: your house key?!

You: are you sure? are you comfortable with me being in your apartment without you?

Gun: Yes.

Y/N: so what?? you want me to sleep in your bed? eat your food?

Gun: Don’t break anything and don’t leave a mess.

Y/N: That’s all you have to say?

Gun leaves you on read. 

.

.

He receives a few more texts from you through the day, each time Goo peering over and trying to read his screen.

“Is that Y/N?”

“...”

“Tell her I love her!”

“...”

“Ask her to reconsider the date.”

“Fuck off.”

.

.

On the second day, you cannot focus on anything. Not your lectures, your college course, books, TV. 

Phone incessantly pulled out of your pocket, thinking you heard a phantom buzz.

In the end you think it’s better to have it always in sight or in your hand. 

…Leading to your eyes flickering to the screen every minute. 

By evening, you decide to be the one who reaches out, sick of waiting to see if Gun will message you. Chiding yourself for being so childish in the first place and playing these games. 

And he’s on a business trip. Likely busy as hell.

You angle your dinner in a flattering light, snap a few pics, select the best one along with ‘not as much fun to cook for one’ and press send.

A few hours later you get a response.

A picture of his own meal in what looks like a very upscale restaurant if the plating and tableware is anything to go by.

‘Your food is better.’.

.

.

The third day you get a picture of a breathtaking sunset with mountains in the background.

‘Thinking about you.’

.

.

You return a selfie of you on his sofa the day after.

‘Thinking about you too.’

Gun replies in the next hour: ‘Good.’

.

.

It’s weird how being in Gun’s home without him is not weird.

You’ve been there enough times to know where everything is. The place now has a sort of nostalgic familiarity. Even the sleek and minimalist design which you scoffed at before, has a peculiar cosiness. Almost homely.

Maybe because it is so very much Gun Park.

Initially, you don’t stay much longer than is deemed polite - if it could be considered polite at all.

Over time, you find it harder and harder to leave.

Gun knows you better than you do apparently.

Maybe just maybe he realises how much you would miss him. How much being surrounded with his things would help, a part of him embedded in everything in his home.

Including you.

.

.

Nothing of significance happens over the next few days. The pictures and selfies increase in frequency.

Gun tends to send you pictures of landscapes and his surroundings, accompanied with a surprisingly romantic caption that leaves you giggling.

Car dashboard to show he's travelling, pictures of coffees and patisseries in overpriced and trendy cafes where he would no doubt fit in, and then images of food from even more eye-wateringly expensive and fancy restaurants.

And then one your eyes have poured over the most, a picture of an empty gym.

With a reflection of Gun, topless. Almost but not quite out of shot. 

Truthfully, you replay the image of him post-shower in your head multiple times a week. It pops up when you least expect it. Over time, the memory has grown blurred at the edges, and this has slammed everything back into sharp focus.

Today you get a glimpse again of his body. Shiny and slick with sweat, muscles flushed red and pumped.

You zoom in - not before shiftily looking around his empty apartment, as if someone will jump out and shame you for being thirsty. 

Eyes tracking over the collar bones and the curve of his shoulder, bicep popping with the phone gripped loosely in his hand. 

A peek of hip hones and one half of the delicious V muscle, the arrowhead that points straight down.

Ughhh. 

He’s not posing at all. You just know it’s one single picture Gun has taken and fired off without thought.

But you still feel the need to take a cold shower right this second.

You: 😋

Gun: 😯

The thought of Gun, a man so cool and calm and collected, using an emoji catches you off balance and you burst out laughing.

(... The photo? That is not true. Gun knows exactly what he is doing.)

.

.

One afternoon, you receive a selfie from Gun - which is unusual in itself.

Upon reveal, it’s a picture of Gun’s business associate - Goo Kim, smouldering at the camera and a fuzzy outline of Gun in the background.

‘Hey cutie pie, how you doing 💋’

Moments later, another picture. Blurred and taken from what looks like midair, phone falling to the floor. You squint at a fuzzy image of Gun trying to kick Goo, who aims a punch for his head.

Gun: dhakjsdhaksjdhs

Gun: kfdjhsdkfhd

Gun: Ignore that

Gun: Sorry

.

.

Another few days later, Gun’s eyes soften at the picture and caption he has just received. It’s a welcome reprieve from the day he had

You beaming with your arm around the plant, both in his apartment.

‘look whos finally home! we miss you!!’

“Huh.” Goo leans over Gun’s shoulder, adjusting his glasses and thinking his eyes are deceiving him. “I thought you would have killed that thing by now.”

.

.

“Since I left, I've been surrounded by all this noise. All I can think about is being with you at home. By your side. Listening to you, seeing you. Just existing... You have no idea the hold you have on me.” 

You don’t hear anything until the next night. A voice recording. Hushed, like a confession.

A slight grumble and a sigh. 

“I won’t be able to contact you from now until I’m back… Y/N.  I wanted you to know that I-,”

A pause. 

“I miss you too.”

[cissyenthusiast010155]

Hear me out because I absolutely need an enemies to lovers style captain Phasma X jedi reader hate fuck

Ooooooooh yes! I would absolutely love to write this 🤤 This takes place before episode 7 btw, when the first order is looking for Skywalker but hasn’t captured Poe yet.

Rock Bottom ~Captain Phasma xFem Jedi!Reader

Mommy…Master List

Requests & Prompt-List

Warnings: NSFW, 18+!!!, smut, enemies to lovers, degrading kink, strap fucking, hate fucking, grey/questionable consent area…?, etc…

Enjoy (;

It was the time of the First Order. And they were desperate for Luke Skywalker.

Recently, there had been a tip off of an extremely powerful jedi hiding off on a deserted moon on the edge of the galaxy.

The tip off had said a jedi had shut down a First Order inspection of the moon with ease.

“Sir, we’re coming up on the moon.” a first order officer reported to Kylo Ren.

“Good. Captain, I want you to at my side.” Ren commanded, motioning towards Phasma.

“Yes, sir.” Phasma replied.

The first order’s ship landed on the deserted moon and began their search for Skywalker.

The nearby suns were cresting at high noon, when Ren tilted his head sensing a pull from the force.

“This way.” He directed the selective group of troopers.

The group made their way through a thick forest before coming to a clearing with a hut in the middle of it.

There was still smoke coming from the chimney…

“Captain, take a line of men to make sure he doesn’t escape. The rest of you, surround the hut.” Ren ordered

The men slowly crept up around the hut, as Phasma took some troopers to the edge of the forest.

Phasma watched as the men then invaded the hut with shouts.

But it was empty…

Suddenly, Phasma heard a snap of a twig behind her.

She turned around and caught a glimpse of something rustling away from her position.

“Lieutenant, keep the troopers in formation!” Phasma shouted as she ran off to follow the movement.

From a distance one could see the lieutenant terrified and explaining the situation to Kylo Ren, who was quick to follow the Captain.

As Phasma ran deeper into the woods, so did you.

You both could feel Ren on your heels.

You were a surviving jedi who had barely escaped with your life on multiple occasions now.

As you ran through the trees, you tripped.

You tripped and hit your head on a tree stump.

Hard.

You tried to get up and keep running but you were met with a blackened vision and immediate dizziness.

You could barely see a shimmering trooper running towards you.

And that’s when you passed out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You had been the captive of Ren for a week now.

Or at least that was your guess.

You were held in a windowless room and tortured on the regular.

What you assumed to be every day, Ren would come in and try and extract the location of Skywalker from you.

But you couldn’t tell him.

You didn’t know.

After what you assumed to be three weeks, Ren was getting frustrated.

You had been trained explicitly for using the force as a defense for the mind and Ren couldn’t penetrate you.

One particular harsh day, Ren was going on for hours…

After awhile, Captain Phasma stepped in and requested Ren.

With a huff, Ren stepped back from you, who was on the border of unconsciousness.

“If you’d let me take a stab at her, I’m sure I could have her talking.”

You heard the Captain say in a muffled tone.

Then you vaguely recall seeing a frustrated Kylo Ren storm off.

You sighed.

You assumed that meant you were done for the day.

But the Captain then came in.

She then proceeded to undo you from the torture chair and drag you down the hallway to your cell.

She threw you on the ground and turned around to close and lock the door.

You tried to stifle a groan, but it slipped out anyway.

You heard Phasma chuckle.

You got yourself to lean against the cell wall and looked to find Phasma standing and leaning against the opposing wall.

“You’re a curious one, aren’t you, jedi scum…” Phasma stated.

You said nothing but simply stared her down with your body shaking and your breathing labored.

Phasma then crouched down, mere inches away from your face, and you raised your head to meet her helmet.

“I’ll have you talking in days…” She taunted, although her tone was extremely serious.

You dryly laughed a bit, “What are you gonna do, torture me?”

At your words, her hand was on your neck and squeezing.

You whimpered at the touch, unable to stifle your sounds.

“You’re going to wish I tortured you…” She seethed.

She then let you go and left with a slam of the door.

You gasped for air.

On the other side, you could hear a muffled Phasma yelling, “No on is to go in there and no one is to give her anything!”

It was then that your body gave out on you and lost consciousness.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You spent the next few days in the dark with no one and no food and no water.

Finally, you heard the click of the door and light flooded into your cell, causing your cell lights to switch on as well.

You winced.

The door closed again and you heard the click of the lock.

Once your eyes had adjusted, you saw a tall woman in front of you.

Fuck was she stunning…

Your thoughts had started to spiral from all the depravity from the last few days.

She was wearing a basic training uniform, but she didn’t look like a basic first order trooper…

You could spend days imaging what she’d look like underneath that ill suited uniform…

The woman crouched down to your lied down figure, grabbing you by the chin and lifting you to your feet.

Successfully pinning you to the wall.

“Does my Jedi scum feel like talking now…?” Phasma jeered.

Oh Fuck…

It clicked for you now.

It was Phasma…

“Fuck you!” You spat in her face.

Phasma chuckled darkly.

“Just remember I gave you a way out…” She sneered with glimmering eyes.

Your stomache was a pit…

You knew very well what tension was between the two of you…

Without warning, Phasma flipped you around, caging your hands above your head with one hand and tilting her chin sideways with her other.

Your breathing was erratic.

Your pupils were blown wide.

“You want something scum?” Phasma taunted.

You gulped and stayed silent.

She then pressed her body against yours, squishing you against the wall.

Oh, OHhhHHh Fuck…

You couldn’t help the whimper that escaped your throat from the bulge you felt ghost grinding against your ass.

She was packing…

You were trying your best to take deep breaths, but your body was reacting against your will.

You found yourself pressing your ass against her bulge.

Phasma wickedly chuckled again, “Already so needy, slut?” she taunted you.

Your heart raced tripled at that nickname…

“No...” You gritted out, which both of you knew was an obvious lie…

“Really?” She mock-taunted, “So if I were to slip my finger in your cunt, your telling me that you wouldn’t be soaked and your walls wouldn’t flutter in desperation…”

You shuddered at her words and tried to stifle the moan that came up at the idea of someone touching you…

Especially her…

But before you could process anything else, you felt Phasmas fingers ghosting the back waistband of your pants.

“Why don’t we find out how much of a slut you really are, scum…” She lustfully jeered.

With that, she had hooked your pants with her finger and dropped them to the floor.

You gasped as the cold air hit your wobbly legs.

“Oh my, do I make your knees weak, slut…?” Phasma taunted.

You merely whimpered in response.

With that, you could feel Phasmas fingers slipping under your underwear and finding exactly what she had been looking for…

“Fuck jedi, you’re dripping…” she breathed out, her own voice faltering.

Your face went red with embarrassment and shame.

You weren’t supposed to feel this way…

And she knew that…

She was exploiting that…

You tried to squeeze your thighs together at that, but Phasma was quick to stop you by shoving your legs apart with her own.

She then removed her fingers from your soaked cunt, eliticing another whimper from you.

“Are you ready to talk yet, slut? Or do you need further encouragement…?” She jeered into your ear.

“Fuck you…!” You spat yet again.

Phasma chuckled and continued her taunts, “Seems like the slut needs to be taught a lesson…”

In seconds, Phasmas trousers and underwear were lowered so that now you could feel her strap right on your ass…

She moved your body in one swoop so that your ass was sticking out more and your legs were widened.

“Please…” you whimpered, at this point you were so conflicted you didn’t know what you were begging for…

With her available fingers, Phasma moved your underwear to the side and placed her dick right on your clit.

At this your hips bucked forward.

“Please God please…!” You cried out, half of you begging her to stop, the other half begging her to fuck you dumb…

“You asked for it, slut…” She breathed, her voice coated in lustful venom.

Her hips then thrusted her dick straight into your aching hole with no warning and no time to adjust.

It was impossible to contain your cries this time.

Phasma began to pound into from behind as you writhed and screamed in a mixture of pain and pleasure.

“OhHhh God right there…!!” you cried out as Phasma bottomed you out.

“That’s right. I am your God…” She hissed in your ear, while relentlessly hitting your g-spot without fail with every single thrust.

Your legs were trembling so badly now, they were threatening to collapse…

Your breathing was erratic and all over the fucking place…

As much as you hated to admit it, you were gonna fucking cum…

And Phasma knew it.

“Oh my, does my slut wanna cum…?” She taunted.

“I… please… don’t stop…!!” You spurted out your words, unable to form a coherent sentence.

Tears were now streaming down your eyes.

This was so wrong…

You could feel yourself about to tip over the edge and one last thrust from Phasma did it.

The orgasmic wave hit you like a brick wall…

Your eyes rolled back and your body spasmed against your captor.

Your screams were so out of control, Phasma had to quickly clasp your mouth shut.

After a minute, Phasma pulled out of you and unclasped her hands from your mouth, and you immediately collapsed on the floor, panting like a fucking dog and your mind reeling from what you had just done.

Phasma took the time to collect herself as well, the silence being a pleasantry for both of you.

You were the one who broke it.

“I don’t know where Skywalker is…” you whispered, looking up to your captor with a tear stained face.

Phasma met your gaze and lightly chuckled.

“I believe you.”

[niuniente]

I have multiple favorite characters. They're all equally beloved. I don't get to choose which one of them is on the spotlight - they come and go on their own.

Because of this, I have assigned a personal meaning to each character: this character means have more fun; this character means that keep your eyes on the price; this character means a time of transition; this character asks to rest more. Always works!

A month ago, Dragunov from Tekken appeared on the spotlight (this didn't happen with Tekken 7 so we can't blame the new Tekken being out).

Now, the first time he was on a spotlight was 15 years ago. I was in a horrible place back then. There was a legal mess which, if the shit hit the fan, would ruin the rest of my life. Literally. I wouldn't be able to get a rental apartment, make any new contracts like electricity, phone, internet, buy anything with monthly payments, get subscription services, I would lose part of my income. I was THIS CLOSE to lose it all and the worst thing was that there was nothing I could. I hadn't caused the mess but I had no way out of it either. I even went to a lawyer to ask for a legal help but he couldn't help.

I feared for my life and future, hoping it would turn out OK. What kept me sane was playing Tekken 6. I played it hours every day and always as Dragunov. I even did my art school final thesis of fan culture and Dragunov (I had much fun with a Russian fan who drew really pretty pics of Dragunov and gave me an access to her screencapture collection of Tekken 6 for my thesis)

Then, one day I figured what was Dragunov's assigned meaning; you will survive. No matter what the odds, even if it was the 3rd world war, you will survive and come out alive without any harm.

That's exactly what happened. Took 2 more years but I got out alive, unharmed. It was horrible time. I'm glad it's over.

So, when Dragunov NOW suddenly appeared on the spotlight after 15 years, my initial thought was "WHAT WHAT, WHAT'S THE BAD NEWS??? WHAT'S GOING TO HAPPEN?? WHAT DO YOU MEAN THE ODDS ARE HORRIBLE BUT I'LL SURVIVE????! "

Two weeks later, in a span of a week, without any prior warnings:

I got laid off because the company bankruptcy and fell on a social welfare

this happened while the current right-wing government made big cuts to social welfare and housing benefits (so I don't know if I can keep my current home)

while at the same time prices keep getting higher due to inflation

The IUD for anemia treatment came out on its own

Because of that I'm without any help to my iron anemia and the only solution will be hysterectomy in my case; doctors aren't giving those easily (even when needed)

I lost my workplace healthcare which would have been the easiest and the best way to get to hysterectomy

the sudden removal of IUD is causing me horrible withdrawal symptoms

my Japanese friend told me that she's unable to come to Finland this year and has to postpone her trip till 2025 :(((

(which also means I won't get my favorite cigarettes I smoke for fancy treats a few times a year because I can only get it from Japan - ordering tobacco online is illegal here)

noticed that wasps had made a nest to my balcony (that's being taken care off)

couldn't attend a free(!) ice-cream tasting for a feedback and for a free 15€ gift card because of the IUD withdrawal symptoms

found out that trains aren't operating normally and my home station is under construction and causes some issues

So yeah. He wasn't lying. It's been so bad that the first thing this morning when waking up was to take stomach medicine and have a smoke. And I'm not a smoker.

Horrible times are up ahead but I trust that I'll survive out of this phase just like I did 15 year ago.

(:::з」∠)

[jesterfairy]

.♠︎.💜 𝐀 𝐏𝐨𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐈 𝐂𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐑𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭 💚.♠︎.

Chapter 7: The Weight of Silence

___. ♡ ✦ ♧━━━♢ ✦ ♠️ ✦ ♢━━━♧ ✦ ♡. ___

Chapter Word Count: 4,673

Fic Summary: Alina Vale dreams of escaping her dead-end life as a diner waitress, finding solace in painting Gotham’s haunting shadows. But when a routine trip to the bank turns into a living nightmare, she finds herself face-to-face with the Joker—a man as captivating as he is terrifying.

As his twisted games unravel her defenses, Alina is forced to confront the pull he has over her, a collision of fear and desire she can’t control. Trapped in his world of chaos and power, survival means facing not only him but the darker parts of herself he’s brought to life.

A story of obsession, control, and the intoxicating allure of letting go.

Genres: Dark romance, Gothic romance, Stalker romance

Pairings: TDK Joker x Female OC

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: non-con, extremely dubious consent, violence, psychological manipulation, kidnapping, stalking, slow-burn, toxic relationships, trauma bonding, childhood trauma, graphic sexual content, stockholm syndrome, dead dove do not eat

___. ♡ ✦ ♧━━━♢ ✦ ♠️ ✦ ♢━━━♧ ✦ ♡. ___

Chapter 7: The Weight of Silence

Alina sat in the dark, still and resolute, determined to prove to herself that she could handle this. The silence was just another game, another twisted trick he’d play on her to see how far she could bend before breaking. She could withstand the isolation. She had survived far worse—alone, abandoned, forgotten—this was nothing new.

The darkness, as suffocating as it was, didn’t have to be her enemy. It was just another thing to endure. And soon, he’d be back. Of course, he would be. He wasn’t done with her yet, not when he was enjoying tormenting her so much.

She lay back on the mattress and closed her eyes, resolving to get through this by sleeping as much as possible. Rest would keep her sharp, and maybe when she woke, she could start plotting her escape—or better yet, figure out how to convince him to release her.

If he thought he could break her, he was wrong.

But as the silence dragged on, sleep refused to come. Minutes stretched into hours, each second a cruel mockery of her fortitude—blurring into agonizing eternity.

The darkness swallowed everything—her thoughts, her resolve, even her breath. She couldn’t even see her hand in front of her face.

She tried to focus, to breathe deeply and center herself.

Stay calm. Stay strong. Just wait him out.

But the stillness was relentless. Every sound—or lack thereof—seemed to press against her skull. Even her heartbeat felt too loud.

As time crept on, the cold seemed to grow worse. She huddled on the mattress, wrapping her thin cardigan tightly around her body, but the fabric was threadbare, a mockery of the warmth she so desperately craved.

How long had it been?

Her stomach twisted. The dull ache of hunger growing sharper with each hour that passed. How long since I ate? She couldn’t remember.

She stood up to stretch, caught off guard by just how sore her body was. Every muscle ached, a dull reminder of how long she’d been confined to the mattress.

She reached for the locket, her fingers tracing its cool surface. It had always been a source of comfort, but now... now it felt different. Heavy. Cold. Was it a reminder of strength—or of everything she had already lost?

If I had just destroyed it...

The thought slithered into her mind unbidden, but she couldn’t push it away. Maybe if she had let it go, he wouldn’t have seen her as weak—something to lock away and ignore.

Aunt Marlene’s voice, sharp and cutting, rose from the depths of her memory:

“Sentimentality is for the weak, Alina. If you had any sense, you’d throw that thing away. It’s worthless. Just like your art.”

Alina squeezed her eyes shut, but the words wouldn't stop. Weak. Worthless. Was Marlene right? Was holding onto the locket—her art, her past—the reason she was here? Had it marked her as different, as someone worth tormenting?

Why couldn’t she have just been like everyone else? Predictable. Normal.

The word twisted like a knife. Normal. She’d never been that—no matter how hard she'd tried.

She curled up tighter on the mattress, hugging herself, desperately trying to block out the cold, trying to block out the hunger.

The oppressive darkness was no longer just physical—it was in her mind now. The creeping thoughts, the shadows that couldn’t be outrun.

And in those shadows, his presence loomed—the echoes of his voice, in the way his gaze had burned into her, stripping her bare. The silence was maddening, a deafening void where his cruel laughter should have been.

Would he come back? The idea sent a shiver down her spine. She didn’t know if the thought terrified or comforted her more—and that truth frightened her most of all.

I’m so stupid, she thought bitterly. Stupid for thinking I could outlast him. Stupid for thinking I could win.

She blinked, but it made no difference. The darkness swallowed her whole, as if her eyes were still closed. She couldn’t tell if she was breathing anymore. Maybe she didn’t exist at all. Maybe she’d already faded away, and this was what came after.

This was always going to be how it ended. Alone. Weak. Helpless.

Tears pricked her eyes, falling quietly, almost apologetically. She couldn’t stop them this time. The cold wasn’t just physical anymore—it had seeped deep into her heart, freezing her soul.

If I had just let it go…

Her body trembled. Her mind screamed for release, for relief. From the cold. From the hunger. From herself.

It’s too much. I can’t do this.

And then, just as the darkness threatened to consume her completely, the door creaked open.

---

The thin sliver of light that cut through the blackness was blinding. She squinted, her breath catching in her throat as the sound of footsteps echoed in the silence.

He was back.

A twisted sense of relief surged through her. She wasn’t alone anymore. No more silence. No more darkness.

The Joker stepped inside, his figure outlined by the light spilling in from the hallway behind him. That crimson grin stretched across his face, his eyes gleaming with amusement as he looked down at her, curled up on the mattress.

“Well, well, well,” he drawled, his voice sickeningly sweet. “Look who’s still with us.”

Alina’s mouth was too dry to speak. She just stared at him, her body too weak to move, her mind too foggy to form words.

She'd never been so happy to see anyone in her entire life, and it made her hate him all the more.

He crouched down beside her, his grin never faltering as he studied her face. “Enjoy your me time, sweetheart?” His voice was playful, mocking. He reached out, his hand brushing her cheek. “You look like you’ve had a rough couple of days.”

His gloved fingers were warm against her skin, the heat of them seeping into her chilled body.

She hated how much she craved the sensation. It didn’t matter that it was him; it was something. Something real, something human.

His eyes flicked down, catching the faint glint of her locket where it rested against her chest. Slowly, with almost exaggerated care, he reached for it. His gloved fingers traced the delicate chain before cradling the pendant between his thumb and forefinger, lifting it slightly.

“Hmm,” he murmured, turning it in his hand like a child inspecting a trinket. His grin stretched wider, dark and predatory, as his gaze flicked back to hers. “So... tell me, was it worth it?”

Alina’s breath caught, her chest tightening as her fingers instinctively twitched toward the locket, but she didn’t dare move.

He leaned in closer, his voice a low, menacing whisper. “All this—” his free hand gestured vaguely to the room, the mattress, the suffocating dark. “The darkness, the hunger, the cold... all because you couldn’t let go of this?” He gave the locket a deliberate tug, just enough to make the chain press into her skin.

Her fingers itched to snatch it back, to shove him away, but the weight of her own shame pinned her down.

It wasn’t just the cruelty of his words—it was the truth buried within them.

Was it worth it?

She wanted to scream yes, to hurl the answer at him with all the conviction she could muster, but the longer his mocking grin lingered, the more her resolve wavered. A hollow ache settled in her chest, mingling with the hunger gnawing at her stomach.

His laugh was soft, venomous, as he let the chain drop. “Pathetic,” he spat, his tone mocking but lined with something sharper. “What is it, anyway? A little piece of sentimental garbage you drag along with you like a ball and chain?”

He tilted his head, studying her expression like an artist admiring his latest work. “Or is it starting to feel like just another bad choice?” His voice was sharp, sinking into her like a knife.

The locket fell back against her chest, the cold metal hitting her skin with a hollow finality.

Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, but she blinked them away furiously, refusing to let him see her break. Her jaw tightened, her nails digging into her palms as she fought to maintain even a shred of control.

“Still sentimental,” he said softly, almost to himself, his gaze flicking between her face and the locket. “You know, sweetheart, it’s almost cute. Tragic, really.”

Her throat tightened, the lump there growing unbearable. She hated him for seeing through her so easily, for twisting the most fragile parts of her into weapons he could use. But more than that, she hated herself for how much his words hurt—because they struck a truth she wasn’t ready to face.

The Joker sighed, his tone dripping with mock indifference. "I’ll bet you’re starving, aren’t you? Just wasting away in here." His eyes flicked around the room, as if bored by the sight of her suffering.

She nodded, her head barely moving, the gnawing hunger twisting through her like a blade.

He chuckled softly, his eyes gleaming with sick satisfaction as he stood and took a step back. “I’ll get you something to eat,” he said, as though he were offering her a favor. “But remember, sweetheart... next time, when I give you a choice, you might want to think a little harder before making a decision.”

Panic surged through her.

Was he really leaving again, so soon? As much as she needed food, the thought of being alone again was almost worse than starving to death.

And yet, she stayed silent, clinging to the last shred of self-respect that kept her from begging him to stay.

The Joker’s footsteps echoed as he moved toward the door. He paused at the doorway, turning back to her with a smirk. “I’ll be back soon, with food this time. Try not to wither away before then.” The door slammed shut behind him and the flickering shoplight flipped on, followed by the heavy click of multiple locks snapping into place.

At least he'd left the light on this time.

---

A few hours later, the Joker sauntered back into the room, the familiar heavy thud of the door closing behind him. In his hand, he held a brown paper bag, the unmistakable and delicious smell of fast food filling the air. Alina’s stomach twisted painfully, her body almost betraying her with how desperately she wanted it.

But it wasn’t just the food that caught her eye. Draped casually over his other arm was a thick, woolen blanket. Its warmth seemed to radiate from across the room, a cruel contrast to the frigid air that had seeped into her bones.

The Joker noticed, of course. His gaze lingered, sharp and calculating, as his lips curled into a wicked grin. He swung the blanket over his shoulder, making a show of it. “Hungry, doll?” he asked, his voice dripping with mockery, savoring the torment he was inflicting. "Cold too, huh? Well, lucky for you... I’m feeling generous.”

Alina's eyes flicked between the bag of food and the blanket. Her body screamed for both, but she knew nothing came without a cost.

He knelt down beside her, grinning like he had all the time in the world. The bag rustled in his hand, taunting her.

“Smells good, doesn’t it?” His voice was soft, almost soothing. “Bet you’d do just about anything for a bite right now, wouldn’t you?”

Alina didn’t answer, her eyes locked on the bag. Her whole body screamed at her to snatch it from him, to tear into the food like a starving animal, but she knew better.

“Come on, dollface, I brought you dinner. Don’t I get a thank you?” He set the bag on the floor between them, his eyes glinting with dark delight.

She could feel the heat radiating off him as he leaned closer, the sharp tang of gunpowder and leather mingling with that oddly warm, masculine scent of his. Beneath it all, there was a faint, clean hint of soap. Had he showered before coming here? The thought felt out of place, surreal, as if mocking the twisted reality of her situation.

"You know, I think I like you better this way. Dirty, disheveled, like some wild thing who’s lost its way. There’s a certain... honesty in it." he murmured, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. His fingers lingered on her cheek, and though her body screamed to recoil, she didn’t move.

She hated herself for it, for how good it felt just to be touched after days of isolation and darkness. The warmth of his skin was intoxicating, and the more she sat there, the more she realized how much she needed to feel, to be reminded that she was still alive.

“You like that, don’t you?” His voice dropped to a whisper, darkly playful, as his fingers traced the line of her jaw. “You’ve been so alone, so cold.” His lips curled into a smirk as he watched her reaction. “I could help with that. All you have to do is ask.”

Alina swallowed hard, her throat painfully dry. She was repulsed by him—by the power he held over her, by the way her body betrayed her hunger for not just food, but warmth. But she was so exhausted, starving, and his closeness, the feeling of another human being nearby, was almost enough to break her.

“You just need to say please,” he whispered, his eyes pinning her, his expression dark and coaxing. “That’s all.”

Her eyes flickered to the brown bag. The scent of the food filled her senses, thick and overwhelming, making her stomach twist painfully. Did he expect her to beg for it?

Every inch of her wanted to scream no, to deny him the satisfaction. She bit down on her lip, willing herself to stay silent, to hold on to whatever shred of dignity remained. But he was so close, his warmth pressing against her, and the hunger gnawed at her insides like a wild beast.

His hand slid down to her neck, his thumb tracing her pulse as if savoring the quickening beat beneath his touch. “Just beg a little, sweetheart,” he whispered, his words tickling her skin, making her shudder. “Show me how much you want it.”

Alina’s chest constricted, her heartbeat thundering as his fingers grazed the delicate skin of her throat. She loathed him—loathed how effortlessly he twisted her mind, how his touch stirred something inside her, anything other than the cold void she’d been drowning in for days. But most of all, she despised herself—for how desperately she wanted to surrender to it, to feel something beyond the gnawing emptiness.

Her pride warred with her survival instinct, each second of silence a battle she was slowly losing. The room felt colder, the weight of his presence pressing down on her like a storm she couldn’t escape.

And then, her stomach growled, loud and relentless, the hunger tearing through her savagely.

The Joker burst into laughter, sharp and cutting, clutching his stomach as though he couldn’t contain his amusement. “You’re giving me a show, doll. Even your insides are begging.” He ran his tongue slowly across his teeth, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “I’ve got to admit—it’s kind of adorable.”

Alina’s face burned with humiliation, her fists curling weakly at her sides. The anger flared hot and fast, but it was smothered almost instantly by the overwhelming ache in her belly.

She exhaled shakily, the words catching in her throat before they finally spilled out. “Please...I need to eat,” she whispered, the words fractured, barely audible, her voice trembling under the weight of her defeat.

The Joker's grin stretched wider, his eyes glittering with dark satisfaction." Louder, sweetheart,' he purred, his voice flooded with twisted delight. 'I couldn’t hear you."

Her face flushed with shame, but the gnawing hunger dug too deep, overpowering her pride. “Please,” she said again, louder this time, her voice rough and broken.

“There it is,” he crooned, leaning back slightly, his laughter low and biting. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

He let the silence hang, drawing out her humiliation for a moment longer, sadistic delight etched into every line of his expression.

Until finally, he opened the bag with a leisurely flick of his hand, reaching inside to retrieve a burger and fries before setting them in front of her.

“Enjoy,” he said, a smirk curling his lips as he watched her trembling hands reach for the food. He stood, taking his time, as though ensuring he had the perfect angle to fully relish her humiliation.

As Alina took the first desperate bite, the taste was a flood of relief, but it was bitter with the knowledge of what she’d had to give up.

And yet... despite the degradation he'd just inflicted, a part of her mourned the loss of his touch, the warmth of his proximity, as he stepped back, leaving her in the cold once more.

---

The Joker watched her in silence for a moment as she finished the last bites of her meal, his twisted smirk never faltering. Alina’s hunger had eased, but the room was still unbearably cold, and the lingering shame of what she had done to get the food weighed heavily on her. She could feel his eyes on her, predatory and amused, as if she were a fascinating toy to him.

"Good, wasn’t it?" he asked, his voice low and mocking. "You know, it’s nice when you’re compliant. It makes everything so much easier."

Alina didn’t respond. She couldn’t. She was too exhausted, too humiliated.

The Joker crouched beside her again, this time letting the silence stretch. His eyes flicked over her hunched form, his gaze settling on her torn, dirty clothes, the mess of her hair, her trembling hands. He tilted his head, almost as if he were considering something.

“You know,” he started, his voice soft, “you don’t have to live like this.” His tone was deceptively gentle, a mockery of compassion. “I could make things... nicer for you. A little more comfortable.”

Alina’s eyes darted to him, wary. She didn’t trust his kindness. There was always a catch.

“I could get you something softer to sleep on, maybe some clean clothes,” he murmured, his voice soft and coaxing. “A shower, perhaps? Soap, shampoo—how about that?”

He reached out, his gloved fingers threading through her tangled hair with agonizing slowness. The intimacy of the gesture sent a shiver down her spine, the possessiveness in his touch unmistakable. He gently stroked her scalp, lingering a moment too long, as though staking his claim—as though she belonged to him.

She hated the warmth that followed, the way her body betrayed her by leaning into his possessive touch, as if it craved the connection. It felt wrong, twisted—and yet, she couldn’t pull away.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he whispered, his voice low and dark. His hand tightened, pulling slightly before he let her hair fall, the cruel glint in his eye making her stomach twist.

The offer sounded like heaven. After days of filth, the thought of clean clothes, of washing the grime off her skin, was almost unbearable. But she knew it wasn’t free. Nothing was with him.

“What do you want?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

The Joker chuckled softly, his eyes alight with smug satisfaction. “Smart girl. You know the deal.” His gaze flicked toward the blanket she had been eyeing since he walked in. “Let’s start small, shall we? I’ll make it easy for you,” he murmured. “You want this blanket, don’t you?”

He held it up slightly, letting the fabric slip through his fingers as he watched her reaction. “All you have to do... is give me something in return.”

Alina’s chest constricted, her breath shallow. It was always a game, always a cruel exchange. And she knew, deep down, that the blanket was just the beginning. A small token to reel her in, to strip her dignity piece by piece.

But she needed that blanket—desperately. The thought of going on without its warmth, its comfort, was almost enough to break her.

“What do you want?” she repeated, her voice trembling with the weight of her desperation.

“Show me how much you want it,” he whispered, his voice a low, seductive hum.

Alina’s stomach twisted violently. The word please had already slipped from her lips twice, tainting her pride. But the cold was unbearable, sinking into her marrow.

She squeezed her eyes shut, swallowing the last of her resistance. “Please,” she whispered, hating how easily the word fell from her lips.

The Joker’s grin widened as he leaned down, his fingers grazing her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmured softly, though his words cut like a knife. “Begging is a start, but it’s too easy, don’t you think?” His thumb brushed her lower, his touch deceptively tender.

Alina’s heart pounded, each beat a sharp reminder of how utterly trapped she was. The weight of his gaze pressed down on her, amusement flickering like firelight in the dark depths of his eyes.

She felt so foolish for thinking a simple "please" would satisfy him again.

“You want that blanket, don’t you?” His voice dropped to a low murmur, his hand brushing softly against her cheek, the roughness of his thumb tracing the curve of her jaw.

She nodded, her body aching for any scrap of warmth, any relief from the grime and biting chill that had settled into her bones.

His eyes gleamed with something darker, more dangerous. "Then show me," he whispered, the thrill of it creeping into his voice, his gaze locking onto hers with a hunger that made her stomach twist. "Show me just how much you want it."

He stood, the silence between them thick with unspoken demands, the blanket hanging just out of reach like a cruel taunt. The room felt colder, the concrete beneath her pressing into her skin, each breath a reminder of the cost she was about to pay.

She swallowed hard, her voice barely above a tremor as she asked, “What do you want me to do?”

The Joker’s smile stretched wider, dark and ravenous, his voice thick with sadistic delight. “Crawl to me,” he commanded, each word thick with the weight of his control. “On your hands and knees.”

Alina’s stomach churned with humiliation, her pride flaring hot for a single, fleeting heartbeat. She thought of refusing—of standing tall, even if it cost her everything. For a moment, the image of herself defiant, spitting in his face, flared in her mind. But the cold gnawed at her bones, relentless and punishing.

She could feel it—the almost tangible heat of his anticipation coiling in the air between them. The Joker’s grin sharpened, his eyes gleaming with a feral intensity, clearly savoring the moment: her indecision, her vulnerability, the way her pride warred with her desperation.

He leaned forward slightly, his body taut with expectation, a predator relishing the sight of his prey submitting.

Her breath hitched, her chest tightening as the humiliation threatened to consume her, but her desire for comfort was stronger. Slowly, painfully, she lowered herself onto the cold floor, her hands trembling as they pressed against the grime-covered concrete.

The Joker’s tongue darted across his lips, the movement almost languid in contrast to the electric hunger in his eyes. “That's it, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice low and dripping with dark satisfaction. “Take your time. I'm enjoying every second of this.”

She took one last shaky breath, then started to crawl. Each movement felt like another piece of her soul slipping away, but she couldn’t stop. The promise of warmth, of comfort, of escape from the bone-deep chill, drove her forward.

The Joker’s eyes never left her, watching her every move with dark satisfaction.

“Good girl,” he murmured, the words curling around her like a serpent as she crawled toward him, her shame heavy with every inch that passed beneath her hands. “See? You’re learning.”

Her palms stung against the rough concrete, the chill biting into her knees. She clenched her jaw, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill. This wasn’t giving in—it was surviving. She told herself that over and over, clinging to the words like a lifeline as she crawled forward.

Laughter, soft and dark, rumbled through the room as he watched her with predatory satisfaction.

By the time she reached his dusty shoes, her breath came in ragged gasps, her body trembling with exhaustion and self-loathing. But as the Joker crouched down to tilt her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze, a small spark of defiance flickered in her eyes. She loathed him, loathed the way she had crawled like an animal. Her body may have surrendered, but a part of her still clung to the shreds of her dignity—fragile, but present.

The Joker’s grin faltered for the briefest of moments, his sharp eyes narrowing as they caught the glint of rebellion in hers. He tilted his head, studying her face intently.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he rasped, his voice low and dark with amusement, “you’ve still got that little flame going, huh?”

He wasn’t angry. If anything, her flicker of defiance seemed to thrill him, promising the game would last even longer. His grin sharpened, more dangerous now, his eyes gleaming with anticipation.

“Seems we still have more work to do,” he whispered, his voice a dark caress, a promise of things to come.

His words lingered in the air, pressing down on her like a weight, but Alina couldn’t stop her gaze from drifting. Her eyes locked onto the blanket, her body screaming for the warmth it promised, even as her mind rebelled against the price she had already begun to pay.

“You've done well, sweetheart,” he said softly, his fingers finally leaving her. The absence of his touch was like a sudden chill, a strange emptiness settling over her skin. Against her will, she missed the warmth, the brief human contact that had kept her grounded—however twisted it was.

Finally, he reached out and draped the blanket over her trembling form, the weight of it settling over her like a mockery of comfort.

"That wasn’t so hard, was it?" he crooned, his tone almost sweet, though the cruel glint in his eyes was anything but.

His gaze lingered on her, dark and possessive, as if she were nothing more than a prize he’d claimed in a game. He let the silence stretch between them, reveling in the tension that hung heavy in the air.

Then, without a word, he turned, his movements unhurried, every step deliberate and calculated, a predator retreating with full knowledge that his prey was cornered.

The Joker paused at the doorway, his painted grin slicing through the shadows like a jagged wound. “Tomorrow, sweetheart," he drawled, his voice a chilling mix of playfulness and menace. "I’ll bring more comforts. But we both know—nothing's for free."

"Think about what else you’re willing to give."

With a final smirk, the door clicked shut behind him, the sound of the locks snapping into place echoing through the room, each one sealing her fate a little tighter.

His absence was immediate, tangible—a vacuum sucking the air from the room. She felt the walls closing in again, the cold coiling tighter, sinking deeper.

The blanket wrapped around her now felt heavier, not with warmth, but with the weight of the bargain she had struck—and the price she knew she would be forced to pay again.

Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. Instead, she curled up on the mattress, pulling the blanket tighter around herself, the locket pressing coldly against her chest.

Was it worth it?

The question lingered in her mind, twisting in her gut. But no answer came, only the suffocating silence, and the weight of everything she had done to survive.

___. ♡ ✦ ♧━━━♢ ✦ ♠️ ✦ ♢━━━♧ ✦ ♡. ___

A/N: Thank you so much for the kudos and comments! It honestly means the world to know there are real people out there reading and connecting with my story. I'm so glad you're enjoying it!

Poor Alina is falling deeper into his snare, and I’m really working hard to make her descent feel believable. Please let me know if you think it’s working (or if it’s not)—your feedback is so helpful!

And for those of you here for the spice (I see you, lol), don’t worry—it’s coming! Joker's just biding his time, but expect every chapter from here on out to kick it up a notch. After all, he's a master manipulator, right? 😏

___. ♡ ✦ ♧━━━♢ ✦ ♠️ ✦ ♢━━━♧ ✦ ♡. ___

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@furisodespirit

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[rothjuje]

Help me make a decision. Our girls (4 and 7) share a room. Currently 7 year old is in a twin and 4 year old is in a transitioned crib. We desperately need to get Gen a new bed. But this our dilemma: Alyssa wants a full bed. The room is quite large (identical to our living room actually, it’s directly above and the same dimensions). But a full bed and a twin bed is kind of bulky/won’t look even and they will lose a lot of floor space. Justin is in camp each girl gets a twin bed, end of story. And yes, growing up we all had twin beds. But nowadays a lot of kids have full beds, even from the start, especially up here. All my friends’ kids are in full sized beds. Anyway Alyssa’s reasoning is that she can’t sleep well because she’s afraid of falling off her mattress, which is a completely valid fear because she tosses and turns a lot and she is very tall for her age.

We’ve looked at bunk beds, Justin thinks the weight will be too much on the upstairs floor (our floors don’t seem super stable). A trundle bed is also an option, but Justin and multiple friends feel like it’s not fair that Gen technically wouldn’t have her own bed. But the plan isn’t to stick Gen’s bed underneath everyday, they play a lot on their beds and I think it would give them a lot usable space. Both bunk beds and trundles have full/twin options.

I overthink everything and can never make decisions. I guess we could put full sized bed in the corner and twin against the long wall and maybe I need to just move on, that there isn’t a perfect solution.

Anyway. When they excavated for the retaining wall two things happened.. our side and back lawn were annihilated but we also gained a large bonus space in the back. We are desperately prepping the side and back lawn to lay sod and to pour concrete in the bonus area. And I say we, but so far it’s been me digging up rocks for 3 hours a day. Which I kind of enjoy and it’s the best workout ever, I think I’m just so glad not to be trapped inside the house anymore.

The bonus area will be a circular firepit area. I was thinking stone or pea gravel, but Justin is set on the concrete. It won’t be the prettiest but I like that the kids will have somewhere flat to ride bikes/scooters. When does one even lay sod in MA? I know fall is the more popular option but I can’t survive spring and summer with a mud pit again.

Cookie season is officially over for our troop. It’s our first year/first cookie season. We thought we would make about $400. We made about 4k after the cookie debits. That is insane. But we do have 30 scouts so I guess it’s not super shocking. We actually don’t even know what we’re supposed to do with the money. We make the parents pay dues to cover project supplies, per Girl Scout rules (there are a lot of rules). And I know we are supposed to donate the donations (but that’s only $150). I know I did field trips in scouts, I’m assuming cookie money covered those. We are all just so surprised. I know we can save it but seems sad not to use yearly because then the girls who leave the troop/help earned it won’t benefit from it. I’m sure we will use some and save some, but we definitely have enough to plan a really fun adventure with our scouts!

[ryawinters]

An AU Idea I had

So I have heard from some people that if friendships last more than 7 (or 10 - I forget which), it lasts a lifetime.

The Marauders met on the 1st of September, 1971. While it is difficult to say whether they became friends instantly (like James and Sirius did, but I am not sure about the other two) or not. But it is safe to say that they did cross the 7 year mark right after they left for Hogwarts. (And assuming they became friends instantly, September of 1981 would have been their 10 year anniversary.)

So let's take the wizarding world. The whole friendship for a lifetime thing. Love and friendship are important themes in the Harry Potter saga, so let's take it a bit further. If you have been friends with someone for a certain period of time, you are bound to be their friend for a lifetime. You can choose the number - either 7 (the number with the most magical significance in the series) or 10 (a special number, which feels more significant when specifying the length of time spend together)

With 10:

For the 10 year friendship thing, I figured that they'd have to be friends instantly for their 10 year anniversary to fall before James dies. Now this gives us a period of 2 months - all of September + most of October (or even all). Let us consider 31st October to be the actual date their friendship started (like Harry, Ron and Hermione)

For the 10 year thing, idk I just figured Peter is really content with being friends with them. He still does spy, but he tries not to let his friends be the ones in danger. (The list eventually also includes Lily and Harry.)

Until the prophecy.

Until Harry Potter is Voldemort's newest target, and there is no way Peter can convince James to just hand over Harry. Peter knows, that James would die for Harry, if it came down to it. But it's okay, he figures. They'll go into hiding. He just doesn't have to know where, so Voldemort wouldn't find out either.

Enter Sirius and the brilliant plan.

Exit James and Lily.

Wait, wait, a whole bunch of stuff happens in between.

Peter doesn't want to betray his friends, not really. He doesn't want James, Lily and Harry to be in danger, because he does love them. But he loves living more.

So, when he becomes the Secret Keeper, and Voldemort asks him for the Potters' location, he gives it. Belatedly, he remembers, that their 10 year anniversary is coming up. That it is tomorrow - Halloween. If James dies on Halloween, the 10 year pact wouldn't really have kicked in, per say. Peter would be fine. He hopes.

He prays that James and Lily just let Harry die - atleast they'd survive. But he doesn't dare ask Voldemort that.

Now we're back to the 'Exit James and Lily' part.

But of course, the bond doesn't kick in - not really, not until the 31st of October is over. Somehow, Peter ends up cursed anyway.

Sirius Black confronts Peter on the 1st of November, 1981. Hours after the 10 year anniversary of their friendship. Peter betrays Sirius. Peter blows up the street. Sirius goes to Azkaban. Peter ends up cursed.

James seems to haunt Peter - a ghost only he can see. Keeps haunting him, keeps guilt tripping him, keeps blaming him, and most of all, keeps wanting to be with his son. It drives Peter crazy. He is unable to do anything about it because as far as anyone else is concerned, he is dead. So if he makes a reappearance to get help, he is dead. And he is worried that if he stays like this, he will kill himself.

(Ofc James is not really there. James cannot be forced to spend the rest of his existence haunting Peter. James is wherever dead people are - not with the living. Peter's magic, having bonded with the other 3, seems to be going against him for what he did to them. James is just the only one who could reasonably haunt Peter, so his magic (or head) conjures up images of James.)

(Or it could go a different way. Maybe they become friends on Sirius' birthday. Maybe Peter had James killed and framed Sirius right before their 10 year anniversary so he wouldn't be bound by the promise of a friendship lasting a lifetime (it did last a lifetime for James). Maybe Peter planned out the day. Maybe.)

With 7:

The same story really. Except, in this case Sirius is also haunted by 'James'. Yes, yes, I know Sirius did not betray James. But Sirius thinks he was (atleast partially) responsible for James' death. That guilt is enough to convince his magic that he broke the friendship pact.

The dementors ........................... do not help.

I admit, I got this idea from a Coco fanfiction called The Bedside Ghost by the amazing PengyChan. It is an amazing story and I 100% recommend everyone to check it out.

Anyway idk where I am going with this.

Ugh maybe I will write something like this one day when I have the time.

[tachimichishrine]

Please I am begging, I can’t get over just how perfect Tachihara would be with the whole ghost face trend. Please please please

<what. what if I told you I wholeheartedly agree. throws my headcanons and love at you>

"scream for me"

⫭◦⨝◦⫬

tachihara michizou x fem! reader {ghostface trend} hcs

warnings: nsfw ; kitchen sex ; knife play ; intended lowercase ; cursing; unedited so unedited i wrote this half asleep thinking abt being pussy drunk on tachi pls forgive me

manz is a SPY. he's done undercover work and wears a disguise 24/7 (his disguise is a goddamn bandaid but he's hot so we let it slide) he adores getting dressed up

I think he'd be really bad at taking it serious though

100% he gets very childish about things like birthdays, holidays, halloween bc he didn't get that kind of experience with his family when he was younger (womp womp :/)

the hunting dogs obviously don't have anything to do with halloween so imagine his surprise when he caught the port mafia hq covered in spider webs and blood.

the blood was likely real

elise was the one who insisted on it, and if she insists, everyone is wearing cat ears and fake vampire fangs.

chuuya was a vampire the dude definitely had practice

he was definitely in the spooky scary spirit when he had his head on your lap, one hand sliding under and up between your thighs like a pillow and watching scream

i KNOW he felt just the teeny tiniest insecurity when you started calling certain scenes really hot but he tried, really hard, to ignore it.

got a little too comfortable and sleepy when you starting running your fingers through his hair and found himself letting out a yelp at the stupidest jumpscares

you teased him for it all night

"do you think I'd survive in one of those horror movies?" you asked later that night, curled up in bed.

"your dumbass would probably trip and kill yourself on a kitchen knife while making breakfast."

"well, fuck you."

"only if you insist" said with his trademark grin.

you got him back by playing into his jumpiness and hiding around every corner, even when you're on missions

you sprung out with a dramatic ghost-like scream (holding back laughter) on one important mission and the man almost shot you

like he pulled the trigger and everything and had to use his ability to keep the bullet from drilling a hole in your stupid skull.

you toned down the pranks after that.

however, it did give him an idea.

he started using his ability to set up the mood for payback by making metal doors creak or scraping chair legs on the ground slowly

a chill physically ran up your spine when you were walking hand in hand and the front door of an empty "for sale" store slammed open, then shut.

maybe he liked it a little how you squeezed his hand when he did that

maybe he liked it a little when you punched him on the shoulder as you realized it was just his antics

but he sure as hell liked it when you roughly smacked his naked ass and shoved his face into the sheets later that night to teach him a lesson

you liked his screams more like that anyways

tachihara was nowhere to be found after you disappeared into the shower trying to wash off all the smeared cum he'd left on your body. you already thought it was strange that he didn't join you even when you offered, but it was even weirder when you came out in nothing but a towel, and the bed was empty.

"michi, I know you're tryin' to be cute or whatever and scare me, but you're not very subtle about it," you giggled, ditching the underwear to just put on some shorts and one of his shirts. your body bounced onto the mattress that was still warm from your bodies, still smelling like sex and gunpowder. the covers were thrown over you and snuggled into and you waited patiently.

it was amusing, at first.

it was annoying after 10 minutes.

you'd gone on your phone, scrolling listlessly to pass the time while you waited for him to finish up whatever stupid prank he was planning so you could get back to sleep, but a whole half hour had passed and it was beginning to feel a little wrong. you weren't worried (he kicked your ass in training too many times for you not to know how strong he was), but sure as hell curious as to what was going on. it was the spooky season, after all, and there was no harm in indulging a little bit; you dialed his number and heard it ring from somewhere in the apartment.

he was really trying to set it up for you, huh? cute. you figured you'd play along.

the phone was vibrating from the kitchen counter, and you picked it cautiously, glancing around you to find out from where your boyfriend was inevitably going to try to jump at you. you heard a chair move, and your eyes darted to look over in that direction out of instinct.

of course a hand clasped around your mouth and another pulled your waist backwards. you bit his gloved hand playfully to get him to let you go and just giggled, shoving your hips back onto him teasingly and trying to flip around to get a look at him.

your entire body got slammed onto the kitchen counter, hair pulled back in one harsh movement

oh fuck.

you didn't think you'd be bent over so fast, his hips already grinding into your ass while the thin, cheap plastic of his mask rubbed against your cheek, his husky voice laying out every lewd thing you both knew you were thinking. from the way his body was leaning onto you, you guessed that he was shirtless and wearing just about the tightest, low-cut pants known to man being held up by a belt (there was definitely a thick belt; you felt the buckle poke into your lower back every time he'd grind too hard)

"michzou..." you didn't have any problems with what he was doing, but loose fingers were touching your body all over and the thin shorts you'd thrown on previously without a second thought were soaking with every word he'd rasp out. "michi, stop playin' around, I-"

it seems your simple ask got you manhandled again, and both gloved hands were now on your thighs, lifting you up to sit you down on the counter so he could rub against you from the front. it was hard to take it seriously and you let out a giggle when you watched him loom over you with the ghostface mask on, trying to be serious. your fingers went to dig into his shoulders as your hips rolled, back arched trying to feel him better.

he sighed, groaning and trying to slip off the mask when he realized it wasn't having the effect he wanted, but you flicked it back on.

"just because I'm laughing doesn't mean I don't think this is fuckin' hot," you reassured him, ironically chuckling again, and this spurred him to grab your hands and pin them above your head on the cabinets above.

"can't believe you liked gettin' fucked by a masked man this much." his voice was deeper than it usually was but god did it get you throbbing. your legs wrapped around his hips, trying to regain control without your hands.

you quipped back with a sly grin. "would be better if you actually fucked me."

shit, you knew just what to say to get him riled up. he let your hands go to pull off your useless shorts which already had splotches of your arousal, and you seized the opportunity to unbuckle his belt, slide your fist into his pants and pull him out.

getting fucked senseless by your masked boyfriend on the kitchen counter at 3 in the morning was not on your schedule for halloween.

"you know," you mused, your pace slowing once the build up had passed but still rocking yourself on him, "usually the victims try to fight back."

"the fuck does that me-"

the cold metal of a knife poked and teased the exposed skin on his neck, and you felt a little irritated you couldn't see his shock through the mask. "c'mon, you've had your fun, baby, it's my turn."

he wanted to play the part, he really did, but before he could try to resist you had him gently sliced into streaks of red, teeth marks coating his body and his tongue gagging on blood-stained fingers from under the mask. your legs were still secured around his hips, fucking into him slowly and deeply, and every guttural groan that echoed out in the hollow apartment was good enough to keep you going while his body tensed up with rigid muscles and heavy breaths.

he couldn't take it anymore once the searing sting of you smearing his blood on his skin mixed in with the pleasure of dragging against your tightly clenched walls, and he murmured a curse before discarding the mask, messily kissing you with groaning lips buried into your neck once he finally got enough air to pant your name.

ah, the dumbass. he really tried to get you to play along but it was hard when you had him under your thumb. maybe next year, he'd try again.