#bright garish colors

[baby-dango]

[suppenzeit]

Looks like we're in for nasty weather!

[chickenoptyrx]

Ok turns out I just needed to take a break. Dumb comic :U

But fr im gonna stop drawin for a bit (probably)

[runawaymun]

Reading Hunger Games and tbh sometimes I wonder if people in the Capitol actually Look Like That, or if that’s just how it feels to Katniss

[sage-reads-things]

This is the first color art I've seen of the Yozakuras, so let's talk colors! Specifically, hairstyles. I gotta admit, I was surprised by the official hair colors. In my head, I was picturing Shinzo and Shion with coppery/auburn hair, and I pictured Futaba's hair as white blonde, not straight up bone-white. I'm happy to have correctly guessed Kengo's bright yellow hair, at least—he just feels blond lol. I also pictured Taiyo and Mutsumi having black hair, so I was surprised when they turned out to have red and blue, respectively.

I'm a little mixed on the hair colors tbh. I like that all the siblings are color-coded, but part of me feels like it's a little too much—I mean, siblings having wildly different hair colors AND it's all super bright anime colors like green and purple feels like overkill. I also feel like the excess of clashing colors can overwhelm the eyes when you put the Yozakuras all together in a group shot like this.

That being said, I do like the characterization tied up in the colors. Kyoichiro being the only child to have black hair feels very poignant, especially since he always wears black suits that make him look gaunt and ghoulish. I like the contrast between Kyoichiro (black) and Futaba (white), and the yin-yang element at play with Taiyo (red) and Mutsumi (blue). And I just looooove Nanao's cyan bucket-helmet, since it's a) fitting for the baby of the family and b) a good color for him.

I'm still not sold, but I can already feel the colors growing on me, so maybe it's just a matter of getting used to it *shrugs*

[cockyroaches]

God I wish there weren't so many hurdles and cons to painting your car a silly color (getting tired of it, making it harder to sell, paint jobs being shit expensive as a whole [all according to my dad]) bc even as someone who lives in a tiny town where it'd definitely become instantly recognizable as My weird ass car I'd love to paint one bright pink. Someday my love...

[gemini526sdumptruck]

Somethingtober 2024 Day 15

Garish

The most garish looking OCs I have right now are my Polypop characters I made a couple years back, so I drew the leader, Lovely! Idk if this counts as garish, I think it does.

[katethevampire]

Happy birthday Freddy Fazbear

[faithless-companion]

This is literally so boring looking. Not like children (or anyone) needs makeup in the first place but like, at least make it fun and garish. Or sparkly and fun flavors like others have mentioned. Give the kids some goddamn lipsmackers

Letting kids go bare faced would be an even better way of highlighting natural beauty

[goosewizard]

hc that tubbo is REALLY insecure about his missing eye, so he wears an eyepatch in new l’manberg and absolutely hates it. it’s too big and garish, it rubs up on his wounds all wrong, he hates seeing himself with it. it makes him feel weak. ranboo notices (of course he does) and thinks that tubbo deserves to feel handsome again. they set off after a cabinet meeting to see if ghostbur has any books on prosthetics.

it should be noted that ranboo has no fucking clue what they’re doing. in the weeks after the plans inception, he has amassed over fifty handcrafted glass eyes, of which exactly zero will work. they’re too big, too small, not the right color. he even managed to make one with a rectangular pupil before they thought better of it. it's a shame, too, that was his best one yet. they're tired and frustrated and the eye collection is really starting to creep him out. ranboo considers asking for help.

ranboo remembers the tumultuous political state of new l'manburg.

ranboo thinks this may be a one-man project.

it really shouldn’t be a surprise that tubbo finds out. they've been practically attached at the hip since ranboo joined, and he was never any good at keeping things from tubbo anyway. they're popping over to ranboo's to get supplies for whatever adventure they're going on today, and the little chest labeled SECRET DO NOT OPEN is too full, propped open with dozens of lumpy glass spheres. tubbo notices (of course he does) and gets halfway through a i can't believe you have an eye fetish before he realizes. ranboo thinks it's a bad sign when he goes silent and an even worse one when his eye goes all misty and aw shit he made the president cry.

he's stuttering through an apology when tubbo's one eye meets their two and he asks is this for me? did you make these for me? ranboo nods and tubbo smiles like a kid on christmas, watery and bright. they've missed that smile. before he knows what's happening, tubbo's tackled them into a hug, sending both of them careening to the ground. ranboo vows there and then to give the man anything and everything he desires now and forever, just so he can feel like this again. not a veteran, not a politician, just tubbo, carefree and kind.

yeah, that sounds like a good life.

as quickly as ranboo went down, he's being pulled back up with tubbo insisting that they try every single eye, previous adventure abandoned. they spend the day like that, going through the chest, laughing at some of ranboos earlier attempts, and screaming with excitement when one managed to fit.

he looks beautiful. more confident, brighter, somehow. they burn his eyepatch that night. ranboo had already gotten him a better one anyway.

part 1 | part 2

[baby-dango]

Some neon monster faces

[inbarfink]

So let’s go through this one-by-one, shall we?

Red Guy

Flat affect in voice, not very expressive 

Or from the perspective of other Red Guy, he is far too expressive and tend to smile at inappropriate situations

Express emotions either ‘too little’ or ‘too much’ in terms of volume, very little in-between

Speaks very bluntly 

Feels physically uncomfortable with bright colors

"Well, this isn't that fun, is it? can't make out where I am in the room like this. What if I'm standing in an embarrassing area?" "I actually don't mind it. Kind of a nice break from all of those... garish colors"

Duck

Loves cataloging and organizing things as a recreational activity

Anthropomorphise inanimate objects (like ACTUALLY inanimate, not teachers)

"You have to jab it hard or it won't respect your choices!"

Has a hard time fitting in in ‘normative’ social groups

Odd sensory sensitivities

"You're supposed to say that the floor is too loud or the window is disrespecting you"

Yellow Guy

Relies on a heavy amount of social mimicry in unfamiliar social situations

"I'm making bits and parts, although sometimes I feel a bit like the bits and parts are, eh, making me."

Tends to understand metaphors and turns of phrases very literally

Which is actually a trait that he displays even in his hyper-intelligent ‘Charged’ mode

"Oh there he is, it's about time." "Yeah, what have you been doing?" "Um, okay, let me see... We were learning about electricity... I completed a crossword puzzle..."

Who is also very sensitive to sounds when two or more people are speaking at once

He also seems to have ‘clumsy’ motor functions in both ‘forms’

In conclusion:

[lees-chaotic-brain]

careless whisper by george michael , gojo , angst

WC: 2k

CW: cheating, angst, hurt/no comfort, reader has female pronouns (referred to as madam and birthday girl), alcohol consumption (all characters are of age), swearing

Taglist (lmk if you want to be added to the event taglist): @chosolovers @ssetsuka @ichikanu

listen to this while reading

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For one night, one night alone you were going to put all of your suspicions and past hurt aside and enjoy the party. After all, it was your birthday so the night was supposed to be all about you.

Shooting a smile at your boyfriend across the room you can't help but feel your stomach flutter as he shoots you a wink and begins making his way through the crowd towards you. Stopping in front of you he sweeps forward in an exaggerated bow, extending his arm.

“Madam Birthday Girl, will you do me the honor of dancing with me?”

Laughing at his antics, you relax, reassured by his usual behavior. Of course everything was normal between the two of you. You were just being paranoid. Placing your hand in his, you allowed him to escort you onto the dance floor.

I take your hand and lead you to the dance floor

Wrapping your arms around his neck and swaying slowly to the music you rested your face against his chest and enjoyed the peace of the moment. Or, at least you tried to.

As soon as your nose brushed his blue button up your senses were invaded with some sort of expensive oriental perfume, meant to be subtle with rose and jasmine. But judging from the way your nose burned, whoever had been wearing it must have been wearing a whole bottle for the residual left on his clothes to be so strong. Nothing like the one or two spritzes of understated wildflower perfumes you preferred. 

Fighting the urge to gag at the overpowering scent, you looked up over his shoulder in an attempt to get some fresh air. Instead you were confronted by lipstick stains on the edge of his collar. Bright pink lipstick stains, which couldn’t possibly be yours, because you would never wear a color that garish. 

Suddenly you no longer felt like dancing, and as the song’s outro played you decided to give him one more chance to explain himself after the party. If he couldn’t do that, then the two of you were done. Looking up into his eyes you gave him a forced smile, a small part of you screaming that this was going to be the last time the two of you danced like this.

As the music dies, something in your eyes

Calls to mind a silver screen

And all its sad good-byes

After the song ended Gojo watched you walk away, unsettled by the finality in your eyes. Had you figured it out? Did you know where he had been before the party? Who was he kidding of course you had. As much as the two of you had danced around the obvious truth for months he knew that you knew. He had fallen in love with your quick wits and intelligence. There was no way you hadn’t put two and two together.

But despite forgotten dates, the nights he came home late or not at all, the perfume that wasn’t yours clinging to his skin, he dared to hope that you would just keep pretending not to know. That things could stay the way they were. If only you weren’t so smart.

Though it's easy to pretend

I know you're not a fool

Walking across the room you mingled with the guests, accepting birthday wishes and engaging in small talk. Heading over to the bar, you got a refill on your drink and leaned against the bar sipping it. You heaved a sigh, wishing the entire thing was over and that you could just go home. A large warm hand placed on your shoulder interrupted your stewing, causing you to turn around.

“Oh! Geto! Hi! I wasn’t expecting you to come. How are you?” You were surprised to see none other than your boyfriend’s best friend, Geto Suguru. The large man chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly at your surprise.

“Sorry, I was in the area and decided to drop by. I’m doing okay, but actually I’m here to ask you that. I’m really sorry about what Satoru did. It was fucked up. How are you doing with the breakup? I may be his best friend but just know that I’m always here for you-”

“Wait, what? The breakup?” You were confused. You hadn’t even told your best friends about your plans to confront Satoru, seeing as you had only made up your mind a few minutes ago.  “What are you talking about?”

“What do you mean ‘what do you mean?’ We had a conversation and Satoru promised me-” Realization lit up in his dark eyes. “He didn’t do it, did he? Oh that son of a-” He stops, looking at you guiltily.

“Listen, I’m really sorry. You should hear it from him. I gotta go now.” With that, he turned and walked away, leaving you with a sinking feeling in your gut.

From across the room, Gojo watched his friend leave, knowing that whatever had just happened between the two of you could not not have been good. Not wanting to obsess over what Suguru could have said, he turned away and jumped into a conversation. Whatever was said had been said already. There was nothing he could do about it at the moment.

Time can never mend

The careless whispers of a good friend

If he had watched a few seconds longer he would have seen you shake yourself then chase after his friend, looking for answers. Darting around guests and avoiding dancing couples you caught up to Geto just outside of the building.

“Wait!” You yelled, hurrying to catch up with him. “You can’t just leave like that! I need to know what you mean.”

Not turning, Geto shook his head. “Trust me on this one. You don’t want to know. Let him tell you. I’ll make sure he does, but you shouldn’t hear this from me.”

“I’m pretty sure I already know.” The words fly out of your mouth before you could stop them. “He’s cheating on me, right? Listen, I need to know. I’m probably going to break up with him tonight. So it doesn’t matter anyways. Just tell me.”

Rubbing his face with one hand he sighed and chuckled without humor. “Of course you know. Jesus this whole situation is so fucked up.” He turned around and looked at you properly.

“Let’s go find somewhere to sit. This might take a little while.”

To the heart and mind

Ignorance is kind

Geto had left a couple of minutes ago, leaving you sitting on a sidewalk bench organizing your thoughts. Fighting the urge to cry, you were unsure why the pain in your chest was so sharp. You had been almost positive, he was cheating on you, so why did it hurt so bad to have your suspicions confirmed? It wasn’t like the knowledge was anything new to you.

Maybe it was because you now knew that the woman was the daughter of a wealthy family close to the Gojos. Maybe it was because you knew that it had been going on for months, and when Geto found out he had made Satoru promise to either end things with the other girl or break up with you. Maybe it was knowing that after making that promise Geto had found him with the other woman again, leading him to assume Satoru had broken up with you. 

Whatever it was, it fucking hurt. Letting out a small sob, you clutched your chest feeling your heart break. Unable to stop the tears from spilling over your waterline you opened your phone and texted him that you knew before you could back out.

But as you wiped your face and headed back to the party because you would be damned if you let him ruin your night, a small part of you wished you hadn’t discovered the truth.

There's no comfort in the truth

Pain is all you'll find

After receiving your text, Satoru watched the entrance intensely, waiting for you to return. The second you step through the door he locks eyes with you, gesturing towards the outside, mouthing that he wanted to talk.

Instead of turning around and walking back outside so the two of you could talk like he had expected, you just strolled into the party and joined a group of your friends. Whipping out his phone, he tried to send you a text, only to discover that he had been blocked.

Then the panic set in as he started trying to make his way towards you. But at that moment a popular song came on over the speakers, and the crowd became rowdy, making it impossible for him to get to you. It was like the crowd was against him, pushing him back towards the edge of the dance floor instead of across it to where you were.

Didn’t they understand that he needed to get to you? That he need to explain himself? He wishes the crowd would just disappear. That it was just you and him, with nothing else in the way.

Tonight the music seems so loud

I wish that we could lose this crowd

As he continues to scan the crowd for you, he finally catches sight of you dancing with your friends, laughing and singing along to the song. Shouting your name, he waves frantically, but the venom in your eyes when they meet his make his voice die out. 

Maybe it was for the better that the two of you didn’t talk right then. You didn’t seem like you were in a place where you would be able to talk reasonably. Turning, he decided to head out for the night and give you the space you so clearly needed. He would just talk to you tomorrow.

Maybe it's better this way

We'd hurt each other with the things we'd want to say

The next day when he went to your place to talk, Satoru was greeted by a box of all of his things sitting outside of your apartment and a post-it note declaring that the two of you were over. And despite all of his screaming and pleading and banging on the door, you didn’t come out that day. Or the next. Or the one after that.

Now it’s been months, and he’s given up on winning you back. It’s clear you have no interest in hearing him out. And in those three months he had come to realize just how much you had meant to him. You were his better half, the one he truly loved. The other woman he had cheated on you with couldn’t hold a candle to you. 

If only he hadn’t been such an idiot. Maybe if he hadn’t been so conceited and cocky he would have seen the value in what the two of you shared and the two of you would still be together. Maybe the two of you would have spent the rest of your lives in happiness together. But that’s not what happened, and now he was all alone. 

We could have lived this dance forever

But now, who's gonna dance with me?

Years had passed, and he was still alone. At first he had tried dating to get over you, but after realizing that the first girl had a similar smile to you, the second had the same shade eyes as you, the third your hair color, he stopped. 

It didn’t matter how hard he subconsciously tried to find girls to replace you. None of them were ever going to be you. And the guilt he harbored over the way he treated you would follow him into the grave. He lost the best thing that ever happened to him. There was no recovering from that.

And I'm never gonna dance again

Guilty feet have got no rhythm

Note: to the people who asked to be tagged on the poll, i haven't added you to my event taglist yet, it was just for this fiic dw. however if you would like to be added, let me know!!

[wolfpup026]

It wasn't the type of place Loki would've ever chosen to eat at. Thor had dragged him there, ignoring his protests over the tacky theming and bright colors that were visible all the way from the freeway.

But inside the diner, something other than the garish decor caught his eye.

[hotyanderedaddies]

you are legit my fav author on here your stories are amazing, could I possibly request yandere wolf daddy with a forced feminized male reader ( who secretly enjoys it)

and can I be 🪬 anon? :3

[Yandere! Werewolf Daddy x Male! Reader]

·゜·:.。..。.:·☆·゜·:.。..。.:·☆

"Princess, it's time to wake up," Daddy whispered into your ear as he tightened his hold on you, squeezing you in closer to his hairy chest. He leaned down and placed a large kiss onto your forehead, exaggerating his kissing noises.

You grunted in response, already rolling your eyes at the older werewolf's foolishness.

The big werewolf rolled out from under you and stood up from the bed, stretching his powerful arms over himself. He looked down at you and mock-frowned when he saw that you haven't budged, too tired to get out of bed at such an obscene hour (7 AM).

Daddy crossed his muscled arms over his beefy chest, tsking at you. "Princess," he warned, putting on an authoritative air, "it's time to get up so we can get ready for the day. Now be a good girl and listen to Daddy."

"Shut up..." you whined, shoving the bubblegum pink pillow over your head in frustration.

You heard Daddy utter out a low growl.

Before you knew it, Daddy threw your tiny body over his broad shoulder. He stomped over towards the bathroom, plopping you on your feet in front of the tub.

"I'll lay your clothes out on the bed," Daddy said as he reached over and turned on the hot water for the shower, steam already billowing out. "Unless, you want some of Daddy's help?"

"Pass," you muttered, slamming the bathroom door shut so that you had some semblance of privacy.

As you washed yourself under the hot water of the shower, you couldn't help but sigh as you lathered up your hair with the sickly sweet strawberry scented shampoo. It was such a girly smell and the bottle was even bright pink with flecks of glitter garnishing it- you wouldn't have been caught dead using it at the gym with all of your buddies around.

Still, even you had to admit that it did smell a little good. You couldn't resist taking a big whiff of the sweet strawberries as you lathered up your longer hair that Daddy forbade you to cut.

Normally, you opted for buzzcuts since it was an easier style to manage, but now your hair was shaggy and starting to cover up your ears due to its longer-than-normal length.

After rinsing out the suds from your hair, you grabbed your equally sweet smelling body wash (this one shaped like a red candied apple), and washed yourself.

It's been four months since Daddy stole you.

You'd been packing up your stuff to move out of your freshman dorm at college. You'd been all set to leave the next morning and had lied down to get some much needed sleep.

That'd been when Daddy had snuck in through your open window, and had snatched you out of bed.

He'd taken you to the cabin he calls "Home", where he'd claimed that you were soulmates and where he dotes on you hand and foot...

and where he insists on calling you "Princess", "Baby Girl", "Sweetiepie", et cetera.

Daddy dresses you up in the girliest clothes that he can find, and he keeps on giving you gifts that would traditionally belong on the more feminine side of the spectrum (roses, jewelry, vibrators).

It was mortifying for a manly athlete such as yourself... or at least, it used to be.

Despite your annoyance, even you had to admit that having such a strong, hunky, muscly wolf daddy pampering you constantly was sorta nice.

Ignoring your irritation for the time being, you stepped out of the shower and dried yourself off. You walked back into the bedroom and nearly wailed at the hot pink hoodie and light blue skinny jeans that Daddy had picked out for you to wear. It was a rather tame outfit considering that there were no frills or glitter this time; but you were never a big fan of pink to be honest.

Still, not wanting another spanking, you yanked on the clothes, surprised at how soft the fabric of the hoode was. Despite its garish color, the fabric was soft to the touch like fleece, and you could definitely smell Daddy's musk on it from when he absolutely rolled around on it to scent it.

As you examined yourself in the mirror, the bedroom door swung open and Daddy sauntered in, wearing tattered blue jeans and no shirt, allowing his buff chest muscles to be on display.

The split second his eyes landed on you, Daddy rushed forward and wrapped you up in his arms, nuzzling you lovingly.

"You look so cute, Princess," Daddy gushed happily. "You're Daddy's Baby Girl, right?"

The way Daddy looked at you with such love and adoration in his eyes, combined with the softness of the hoodie, the sweet scent of the strawberry shampoo, and the firmness of Daddy's large muscles caused you to completely melt into the wolf daddy's hold.

"Yeah, yeah," you mumbled, blushing slightly as you rested your head on Daddy's chest, hearing the deep rumble of contentment as he kissed your forehead.

[valkyriexo]

Do Not Answer | Hyunjin

ᑉ³pairing; Joker Hyunjin x Reader

ᑉ³genre; Thriller, lightly Suggestive

ᑉ³warnings; lightly suggestive , knives, mentions of blood, mentions of death, mentions of murder, darker theme overall,

ᑉ³Authors Note; 1k event Commisson giveaway winner @linocvp1d (sorry it took so long :((( ) Thank you for beta reading @kisskissbanggang ! i appreciate you so much

The television flickered in the dimly lit room, the chaotic hum of the nightly news filling the space. You sat cross-legged on the worn velvet couch, your head tilted with fascination as the anchor recounted another crime spree. The footage cut to a shaky video of a man standing amid a scene of mayhem—cars ablaze, shattered glass strewn across the pavement, and panicked faces blurred in the background.

He stood out against the chaos like a twisted masterpiece, his lanky frame wrapped in mismatched layers that defied logic yet demanded attention. A deep violet blazer, scuffed and torn, hung loosely over his narrow shoulders. Beneath it, a bright green shirt peeked out, its garish color streaked with dark stains. The golden tangle of his hair fell over his forehead, sticking to his pale skin, streaked with what looked like sweat—or maybe blood.

But it was his face that held you captive. Pale as porcelain, the corners of his mouth curled unnaturally high, splitting his expression into an almost painful grin. Dark rings encircled his eyes, smudged kohl blending into streaks of grime, making the wild gleam in his gaze all the more unsettling.

His presence was magnetic, the kind that drew you closer even as every sane fiber of your being told you to run. He turned toward the camera, cocking his head in a gesture that felt like both an invitation and a threat.

“They’ll never catch me,” his voice crackled through the speakers, low and smooth, laced with deranged amusement.

You tilted your head to mirror his, a slow smile creeping across your lips. There was something… fascinating about him, something that made your heart race for all the wrong reasons.

The anchor’s voice pulled you back, but this time it was tinged with barely concealed fear. “Authorities are urging all residents to remain inside. Lock your doors, secure your windows, and under no circumstances should you engage with strangers. This individual is considered extremely dangerous.”

The screen cut to footage of the aftermath of his latest crime—a burning building, emergency lights flashing against the smoke-filled night, and paramedics rushing stretcher after stretcher into waiting ambulances. “He’s been known to target random victims, often at night,” the anchor continued, her voice cracking slightly. “And—” she hesitated, glancing off-screen before swallowing hard and regaining her composure. “There are reports of him taunting his targets before striking. If you receive a call from an unknown number, do not answer. Repeat: do not answer.”

Your gaze remained locked on the screen, the anchor’s panicked words a distant hum in your ears. They didn’t understand him. Not really.

Your phone buzzed suddenly, jolting you out of your thoughts. 

It sat face down on the coffee table, the vibration rattling against the surface. You froze, your pulse quickening, but you didn’t move to pick it up.

The ringing continued for a few seconds before stopping, leaving the room in heavy silence. You exhaled shakily, trying to steady your breathing. It was probably nothing. A butt dial call. Or—

The phone buzzed again, breaking your train of thought. This time, you reached for it with hesitant fingers, flipping it over to see the name glowing on the screen:

Mom.

You let out a small breath you hadn’t realized you were holding and answered. “Hi, Mom.”

“Hey, sweetheart. Are you watching the news? It’s terrifying. Please tell me you’re home and have the doors locked.” Her voice carried that familiar mix of worry and love that she’d perfected over the years.

“Yes, I’m home,” you said, moving toward the kitchen as you spoke. “Doors are locked. I’m fine, Mom. Promise.”

“You’d tell me if you weren’t, right? I just—these things are happening so close to home, and that man…” Her voice trailed off, and you could practically see the way she’d be wringing her hands, pacing the living room.

You balanced the phone between your ear and shoulder as you pulled open the fridge. “I’m fine. Really. I’m about to make dinner. Nothing to worry about.”

“Okay, okay. Just… call me if you need anything. And don’t answer any strange calls, okay?”

You bit back a smile. “You’ve been watching too many horror movies.”

“This isn’t funny, honey. Just be safe.”

“I will. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

The call ended, and you set the phone down on the counter. With a small shake of your head, you turned your attention to dinner, pulling ingredients from the fridge and cabinets. The steady rhythm of chopping vegetables and the sizzle of oil in the pan brought a sense of normalcy to the evening.

The man from the news lingered at the edges of your thoughts, though. His image seemed burned into your mind—the wild glint in his eyes, the way his crooked smile exuded both danger and charisma.

You stirred the pan, letting the aroma of cooking fill the room. And then, just as you were plating your food, the phone buzzed again.

You glanced over, expecting another call from your mom, but the screen read:

Unknown Caller.

Your hand froze on the fork, your stomach knotting. The words of the anchor came rushing back:

 Do not answer.

The buzzing continued, persistent and jarring in the quiet apartment. You licked your lips, wiping your hands on a towel as you moved toward the phone.

You hesitated, the warnings running laps in your mind. Your fingers hovered over the screen, but before you could decide, the call stopped. The screen went dark, leaving an eerie stillness in the room.

You stared at the phone for a moment, your breath shallow. 

It’s nothing, you told yourself. Probably a mistake or a spam call.

But then, it buzzed again. The same Unknown Caller.

Your heart raced as you watched it vibrate on the counter, your feet rooted in place. You didn’t move, didn’t answer, and after a few seconds, the ringing stopped again.

The silence that followed felt heavier this time, pressing down on you like a weight. You exhaled shakily, wiping your palms on your jeans, trying to dismiss the growing unease twisting in your chest.

And then it buzzed a third time.

The screen glowed, Unknown Caller staring back at you like a challenge.

Your hand trembled slightly as you picked it up. Something inside you stirred—curiosity, defiance, or maybe something darker. Whatever it was, it overrode the warnings in your head.

With a deep breath, you swiped to answer.

“Hello?”

For a moment, there was nothing but silence on the other end. And then, a low, smooth chuckle, warm and unsettling all at once.

“Well, well,” the voice purred with amusement. “Third time’s the charm. I was beginning to think you’d never pick up.”

Your breath caught in your throat, the voice sending a shiver down your spine. It was unmistakable—him.

“I don’t usually make house calls,” he continued, his tone playful but laced with malice, “but you… you’re an exception.”

You gripped the phone tighter, your pulse pounding in your ears. “Who is this?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady, though the crack at the end betrayed you.

He laughed again, the sound rich and unnerving, as though he was savoring your reaction. “Oh, come on. Don’t play coy. I think you know exactly who I am.”

You were silent.

 “Oh, come on now,” he purred, as though savoring your confusion. “Don’t tell me you don’t recognize the voice.”

You swallowed hard, your mind racing. Was he toying with you? But it was impossible—how could he know who you were?

“Why are you calling me?” you demanded, trying to regain control, but your heart was hammering in your chest.

“Because you’re so… interesting,” he said, dragging out the word, the tone heavy with meaning. “You’ve been home all day, haven’t you? Just sitting there, waiting for something to happen. Nothing ever changes, does it? Same routine, same quiet apartment.” His voice lowered, almost whispering, sending a chill down your spine. “I can hear the silence. It’s deafening.”

The panic surged in your chest. “How—how do you know that?” you choked out, your voice barely above a whisper.

Another laugh, sharp and unnerving, echoed through the line. “I told you. I’ve been paying attention. It’s… entertaining, watching you go about your little life. You get so comfortable, so predictable. But that’s about to change.”

Your blood ran cold. He was right. You had been alone all day, just the television and the hum of your thoughts. But how could he know? There was no way he was here… no way he could have been watching.

“You’re making a mistake,” you snapped, trying to hide the fear rising in your throat. “I don’t know who you are, but—”

“Oh, I know you’re scared,” he interrupted, his voice turning colder. “I can hear it in your voice. But you don’t have to worry. I’m just getting started.”

The line went silent for a moment, and you held your breath, your pulse thundering in your ears. The words didn’t make sense—none of this made sense. How could he possibly know all this?

Your knees threatened to buckle, but you forced yourself to stay upright. “You’re insane.”

“And you’re intrigued,” he shot back, not missing a beat. “Why else would you still be on the phone with me?”

Before you could respond, there was a faint sound in the background—a door creaking open. Your blood ran cold as you spun toward your front door.

“I hope you don’t mind,” he drawled lazily. “I’m not much for formal invitations.”

The phone slipped from your hand as the doorknob turned slowly, the lock you thought was secure clicking open.

There he stood, a twisted smile curling across his face, the same one burned into your memory from the screen. Up close, he was even more unsettling—the gleam in his eyes alive with chaotic energy, like he was drinking in your shock.

“Well, well,” he said, stepping inside and letting the door swing shut behind him. “Dinner and a show. How thoughtful.”

You backed up instinctively, your heart hammering against your ribs. “How—how did you get in here?”

He tilted his head, feigning innocence as he slipped his hands into the pockets of his tattered blazer. “You’d be surprised what doors open when you knock hard enough.”

Your eyes darted to the kitchen counter, where the knife you’d been using lay within reach.

“Oh, don’t be like that,” he said, noticing your glance. His voice dipped into a mock pout. “I came all this way to see you, and you’re already thinking of cutting me out of the fun?”

“What do you want?” you managed, your voice trembling despite the defiance you tried to muster.

He grinned wider, his teeth glinting in the dim light. “Now that,” he said, taking another step toward you, “is the question, isn’t it?”

He moved closer, the heavy silence of the room pressing in around both of you. His eyes gleamed with excitement, watching your every twitch, your every nervous breath. He didn’t need to rush; he was savoring this moment—this perfect mix of fear and control.

"You don't have to say anything," he purred, his voice smooth as velvet. "I already know how this goes." His words dripped with a mock sympathy, the kind that made your skin crawl. "You’ll beg. You’ll plead. But that won’t matter."

His steps were slow, deliberate, like a predator circling its prey. Every footfall echoed in the quiet, reminding you that there was nowhere to run, no escape. His hand reached out, brushing a lock of hair behind your ear, the touch cold and deliberate.

"Please," you whispered, your voice breaking, trying to hide the tremor that rattled your body. "Don’t… don’t hurt me." You couldn’t stop the pleading from slipping out. It was instinct, raw panic clawing at you from the inside. You wanted to disappear, wanted to be anywhere but here, but your body refused to listen.

He stood inches from you now, close enough for you to feel the heat of his presence, his breath warm against your face. "Oh, sweetheart," he said softly, almost mockingly. "I don’t want to hurt you. Not yet, anyway." He let that hang in the air for a moment, like a question you didn’t want to answer.

You flinched as he took another step, your back hitting the wall behind you. The tears welled in your eyes, the overwhelming sense of helplessness seeping in. "Please," you sobbed, "just leave me alone. I’m begging you."

He smiled then, a cruel, twisted thing that sent ice through your veins. "Begging. There it is." His voice dropped lower, more sinister, a soft laugh rolling off his tongue. "I could watch you beg for hours. It’s almost too easy."

He leaned in closer, his breath warm on your ear. "Do you know what happens to people who beg?" His lips brushed your skin as he spoke, sending a shiver through your whole body. "They break. They start losing themselves. And once you break, there’s nothing left to stop me."

Your heart pounded harder as his hand rested on the side of your face, his fingers lightly tracing your cheek in a gesture that should have been comforting but only deepened your terror.

But then, just as you felt the breath leave your body in a sob, something inside you shifted.

You stopped crying.

His fingers stilled on your cheek, sensing the change in you. You met his gaze, and for the first time since he'd walked in, you weren’t afraid. At least, not the way he thought you were.

You smiled, but it wasn’t the terrified grin of someone who had given up. No, this was different. It was sharp. It was knowing. And in that instant, his cocky, dangerous demeanor faltered for the briefest moment.

"Oh Hyunjin..," you said, your voice steady, almost affectionate.

The moment his name left your lips, everything around you seemed to freeze. His breath caught, his eyes wide, locked on yours, and for the first time, he was the one who faltered. He didn’t move, didn’t breathe. His fingers, still resting on your cheek, remained perfectly still, as though the very mention of his name had shattered the illusion he’d so carefully crafted.

His gaze flickered, confusion clouding his features as he took a step back, the momentary vulnerability in his eyes like a crack in his carefully constructed façade.

His grip on your chin tightened, and he leaned in, his face inches from yours. "What game are you playing, huh?" His voice was low, threatening, but the edge of uncertainty had crept in, making it even more unsettling. "You think you can scare me back?"

You leaned closer, your lips brushing his ear as you whispered, "I’ve been waiting for you to find me."

His breath hitched as you leaned even closer, your lips just grazing his ear, the intimacy of the moment sending a jolt through him. You could feel the tension thickening in the air, the battle between control and the unsettling connection that was forming between the two of you.

"I've been waiting for you to find me," you repeated, your voice soft, almost like a lover’s whisper.

The words sank into his skin, and for a split second, he pulled back just enough to study you, eyes narrowing, trying to comprehend what you meant. But there was something in your gaze—something that unnerved him, something that spoke of obsession.

He'd known women like you before. Women who thought they could twist themselves into something he would desire, something that would draw him in. But as he watched you now, he realized it wasn't just imitation. It was a deep understanding, a disturbing knowledge of him that made his skin crawl.

"Oh?," he muttered, but even his voice was strained, as if he was both fascinated and horrified by the truth he was starting to uncover. "What... what are you trying to do?"

You didn’t answer him immediately. Instead, your eyes wandered over his face, studying every line, every scar, every little detail as though you were committing it to memory. Your gaze was unsettling—intimate in a way that only someone who had watched him for too long could achieve.

"You think I’m just like the others," you said, your voice flat but somehow laced with something darker, something dangerous. "But I'm not. I know you. I know exactly what you like, Hyunjin. I know who you choose. And I knew if I made myself like them..." You paused, the ghost of a smile on your lips, "you couldn’t help but find me."

His eyes widened in disbelief, but then a twisted smile slowly curled at the corners of his lips, as if he were finally seeing you for who you really were. "So that's it," he said, the words slipping from his tongue like venom. "You thought you could lure me in? Make yourself a perfect little victim? Pathetic."

Your gaze never left his as you shrugged, unphased by his harsh words. "You came right to my doorstep, didn't you?" Your voice was a low hum. "You always do when someone like me is waiting. You can't help it. You’re drawn to what you don’t understand."

His grip on your chin tightened again, and this time, there was no pretending. He was beyond the point of merely intimidating you. He was starting to lose control, the realization that he wasn’t the one in charge anymore sinking in.

"You're out of your fucking mind," he hissed, but there was something about your quiet smile—something unsettling in the way you leaned in even closer—that made him pause. 

You didn’t flinch, didn’t back away. Instead, you pressed in even closer, until your faces were mere inches apart. His eyes searched yours, desperate to figure out where the line was, where he could draw it and finally break you. 

But the truth was, there was no line. You had crossed it a long time ago.

"I’ve always known, Hyunjin," you whispered, the words dripping with something far darker than admiration. "I’ve always known what you needed. And I’ve been here, waiting for you... just for you."

His grip on your chin tightened again, but his movements were no longer about power. There was a flicker of something else—something almost... excited. “You think you’re some kind of challenge, huh?” His words were laced with a hint of amusement, like he couldn’t quite believe what was happening.

You didn’t flinch. Didn’t pull away. You didn’t even blink.

His lips curled into a smirk, but it didn’t reach his eyes. It was more a test now—seeing how far you’d go. He took a step back, dropping his hand from your chin, and without saying another word, he moved toward the far wall of the room. He reached for the knives lined up on the counter nearby, the cold steel glinting in the dim light. The air between you two felt thick, charged with something dangerous, something raw.

You didn’t move, didn’t even seem to acknowledge him as he grabbed the first knife, expertly flipping it in his hand, his eyes still locked on yours. With a flick of his wrist, the blade flew through the air, embedding itself into the wall just inches from your face. It would’ve been too close for anyone else, but you didn’t flinch. 

You didn’t even blink.

He threw another, then another, each one grazing the edge of the wall near you. The room filled with the sharp thuds of metal hitting the hard surface, but still, you remained completely still. Unshaken. Your eyes remained fixed on him, watching, waiting, almost... entertained.

"Are you done?" you say.

Hyunjin’s breath grew heavier, the fascination in his gaze deepening. No one had ever dared to remain so calm, so unmoved in front of him. Most people were terrified by the chaos he created, by the danger he so freely wielded. But you? You were something else entirely.

He took a slow step toward you, his eyes never leaving your face. The silence between you both was suffocating, a heavy tension that only seemed to grow with every passing second. He wasn’t sure if he was testing you or if he was just trying to understand you. Could someone like you really be real? Or was this all just an act to survive?

You broke the silence first, not with words, but with a simple gesture. You didn’t flinch. Instead, you turned toward the TV, flicking it on with a calmness that only made his heart beat faster. As the screen lit up, the news anchor’s voice cut through the silence of the room.

“Breaking news tonight: a series of brutal killings in the city have been linked to an unknown assailant. Authorities are urging citizens to remain cautious as they investigate the disturbing pattern...”

The screen flashed a picture of the victims, the same faces he had seen on the news before. But now, there was something different. Something far more intimate. 

They were your victims.

Hyunjin froze, the knife in his hand trembling slightly as he turned to look at you. You met his gaze with a knowing smile, your eyes now gleaming with something dangerous—something he hadn’t expected.

“Did you think I was just waiting for you to find me?” you asked softly, your voice almost teasing now. “I’ve been watching. I’ve been planning... learning. Everything you’ve done, everything you’re capable of... I’m not afraid of you, Hyunjin. You’re exactly what I’ve been waiting for.”

He swallowed, the words getting caught in his throat as he took another step back, his eyes flickering between you and the TV screen. The truth was right there. You were real. You were every bit as dangerous as he was, and maybe, just maybe, you were even more unpredictable than he’d ever imagined.

His smirk returned, though this time, it was something darker, a mixture of amusement and raw desire. "Well, well," he murmured, his voice low, almost a growl. "You’re insane. But damn, if that doesn’t make this interesting."

He dropped the knife onto the table, and for the first time since he'd walked in, he didn’t look like the predator. Instead, he looked like someone who had just met their match.

Hyunjin's heart raced, but it wasn’t from fear. It was something far more thrilling, something that tightened in his chest with every word you spoke. The way you watched him, the cold calculation in your eyes, sent a shiver down his spine, but also made something dark stir in the pit of his stomach. This was the moment he'd been waiting for.

But instead of backing off, you stepped closer. You didn’t even flinch at the knives, didn’t even seem to acknowledge their deadly proximity. Your gaze was locked on his, not with fear, but with anticipation.

You reached up, your fingers trailing along his jawline, the touch almost gentle. He leaned into it, despite himself. There was something about your proximity, the way you were pulling him in, that was impossible to resist.

“You’re dangerous,” he whispered, voice low, almost a growl. “But you’re also exactly what I wanted.”

You smiled, that same knowing, dangerous smile that made his pulse race. “I’m not afraid of you,” you whispered, the words heavy with meaning. “In fact, I think I’m starting to enjoy this... maybe even more than you are.”

And before he could say anything more, you closed the distance between you, your lips crashing against his in a kiss that was anything but gentle. It was hungry, desperate—two predators finally giving in to their shared hunger. His hands flew to your back, pulling you in closer, deeper, as if he couldn’t get enough. You responded with equal ferocity, your body pressing into his, hands threading through his hair, pulling him in until there was no space left between you.

His mind screamed at him to regain control, to pull away, to remind you who was in charge. But the heat of your kiss, the wild, untamed energy that sparked between you both, left him speechless. It was a game now, but not one he had planned. He had underestimated you, and that, more than anything, turned him on.

As he pulled away from the kiss, both of you breathing heavily, the moment seemed to stretch, thick with tension and something more primal. His eyes searched yours, as if trying to decode every part of you that he hadn’t yet understood, that still eluded him.

He smirked, his voice still low and rough, a trace of amusement dancing in his gaze. “What’s your name?”

You tilted your head, considering the question, your lips curving into a knowing smile. There was something unsettlingly confident about you now, like you were no longer trying to hide who you were—who you had always been.

“Harley Quinn,” you answered, your voice sweet, but with a dangerous edge.

He froze, his heart skipping a beat at the mention of that name.The look in his eyes was a mixture of intrigue and caution, as though he was beginning to understand exactly what kind of monster he was dealing with.

"Harley Quinn," he repeated, testing the name on his lips. The idea of you being a version of him—crazy, unpredictable, and dangerously charming—was a twist he hadn’t expected. You weren’t just some fragile victim. You were something else, something much more volatile.

"You like it?" you teased, watching him with a playful glint in your eyes, completely unfazed by the weight of the moment.

He chuckled darkly, stepping back slightly, but his eyes never left yours. "I think I’m starting to like you, Quinn." The way he said your name, with both amusement and an underlying hunger, made it clear he wasn’t talking about anything as simple as affection.

You smiled, leaning in just enough to brush your lips against his ear once more. "Careful, Hyunjin... you might find out I'm more dangerous than you think."

He exhaled slowly, his smirk widening as he pulled you back into another kiss, a kiss that promised there was no going back.

And just like that, the Joker had found his Queen.

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