#i love u anybody who tolerates my yapping

[majorblinks]

You get to kiss 💋😘 Wony all you want for 1 day every week.

However, you're not allowed to spam capital letters for the rest of your week. And you also can't spam punctuation marks.

So no more "YEAHHHAEOFJAWOIE" and "Mother!!!!!!!"

How far do you think you could go before succumbing to the 🦷🦷🦷🦷🔪🔪🔪🔪 and 🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱🪱 in your brain?

"Here~"

Wonyoung wants your lips pressed against her cheeks in front of her members and not letting go until she says so, even when she is munching on food. Would you fulfill the princess's wishes or would you be too embarrassed to do so?

hiiiii frisky omfg i love this ask!!!!!!!!!! U KNOW ME SO WELL!!!!!!!

unfortunately i regret to inform u i would actually collapse and die if i wasnt allowed to spam capital letters/punctuation marks. would life even be worth living if i couldnt express myself in that way?????? it would be like losing a limb..... it would be robbing me of a core creative outlet........... i am an artist and my mediums are my capital letters and my rampant & glorious overuse of exclamation points and question marks and ellipses................... i do adore wonyoung & she is my baby.................... however i must listen to my heart and my heart tells me to continue to express myself through whatever means necessary no matter the sacrifices i have to make!!!!!!!!!!! </3!!!!! i would not even make it a DAY!!!!!!!! so sorry to wony!!!!!!!!!

anyway to make up for it (and for the MONTHS it will take before karina part 2 is done) here's some shit i have rotting in my when cameras are flashing part 2 doc which IS in fact featuring wonyoung.......

also some smutty stuff if ur a freak or whatever....:

i wrote this like 10 months ago so if none of it makes it into the final product then egg my house & key my car & throw tomatoes at me in an act of public shaming i guess. LOVE U ALL!!!!!!!!!!

(also to the last question YES i would smooch wonyoung in front of the other girlies if she asked......... BC UR SO RIGHT THAT'S PRINCESS!!!!!!!!!!!)

thank u so much for the ask!!!!!!!!!!! <3333

[indigo-greer-collins]

wanderer's soul✧.*

OKAY UH HI GUYS

author's note: i wish i knew how to make this little intro thing all aesthetic and shit, i do not though, this is my first time with this thing. i was inspired by @samfucker to write something kinda angsty about teen darlin, so thank u matt!!! this is my first time posting like an actual fic here so i am so sorry if it sucks but uhhhh i'll improve i promise! lemme stop yapping now

content includes: gender neutral pronouns for darlin, teen darlin, autistic darlin, underaged drinking, mentions of parental conflict(?), teen shaw pack, depictions of meltdown/spiralling, angst-ish(idk if its that bad)

word count: 1.6k! (woah thats kinda long)

They just needed to leave.

The circumstances weren’t ideal. To get away from a house that hated them, they had to hang out with a bunch of wolves who didn’t like them. But the lesser of the two hells was obvious.  They grabbed some old, worn-out sneakers they were unhealthily attached to; the first pair of sweatpants they could find and a hoodie that had (barely) stood the tests of time. Hanging out at a park was hardly a special occasion, so they defaulted to their usual look: homeless. But the look wasn’t complete yet. They took a flask from the kitchen and mixed some of their parents’ alcohol with some soda. Now it was perfect. Their parents had less to drink as punishment for all the insults they'd thrown at them, and as a bonus, the Shaw pack would make a way more tolerable bunch if they were slightly drunk.

The journey to the park was a blur - their feet took them in the right direction but their mind was in a different place, repeating the harsh words thrown at them by the people that allegedly loved them so much. Were they eternally destined to be surrounded by people who were supposed to care, but didn’t? That’s stupid. They cut off the line of questions they saw their brain preparing. You don’t need people anyway. People don’t want you, and you don’t want them either. Or at least that’s what they told themselves. Before they knew it, they were sat cross-legged on a park bench watching the other shifters their age play and laugh together. How did people their age even make so many friends? Big groups are so exhausting, and every conversation seemed to be some kind of stupid secret code or guessing game that only a select few knew the rules of. Everyone got a little bigger and a little older and suddenly just going up to people and bonding over legos or sandpits or hand painting wasn’t enough. You had to look right. You had to talk right. You had to act right. You even had to think right or somehow they’d know you aren’t one of them. 

No one was going to tell you what “right” was either, they just point and laugh if you happen to be wrong.

Their less-than-sober spiral was broken by a familiar face deciding to take a seat beside them without even asking. They didn’t care that he didn’t ask, but whenever it was them, people usually looked at them strangely.  “Chrissy.” They finally said, wanting to know what the hell he was up to. “Yeah?” He sounded snarky, but they were used to that. Sometimes his snark was a little better than being alone with their thoughts. “Why?” Silence fell for a short while, so they elaborated on their question. “Here, why are you sitting here?”  “Well you’re not waiting for someone are you?” The sip they took from their flask said enough. Of course they weren’t keeping the spot for anybody, they hardly had anyone to sit with. “What’s that?” “None of your business.” “Boring. Can I have some?” “No.” They turned to glare at him, to which he pouted back. They needed the alcohol to hit faster, Christian was already finding their last nerves and tap dancing on them. “Answer my question.”  “The others were annoying me, and you don’t have any friends, so I’m here now.” He put it bluntly. The bluntness was actually sort of refreshing. They looked less tense now. “Is it alcohol?” “Fuck off.” Never mind then.  “I’m snitching-“ “-No the hell you are not.” They insisted before being presented with Christian’s open palm. It looked like their options were a) share the wine that they took the time to steal with their own 2 hands or b) get chewed out by even more adults that pretended to care out of obligation. 

And with a grumble, they let him have a sip. 

Christian’s face twisted in disgust at the bitter taste, which at least amused the angsty teen wolf before they snatched the drink back. They would’ve been reprimanded for a face like that too, but that was also stupid - why did they constantly have to restrain every facial muscle so that people liked them? Is everyone constantly trying to keep up a more pleasant expression? It felt unnecessary. 

“That’s nasty.” “You did that to yourself.” They rolled their eyes before chugging more of their drink, mostly to prove a point. They then wiped at their chin with their sleeve “You gonna go back to your friends now?” “They’re not really my friends.” Chrissy scoffed, though they weren’t quite convinced that was true. He might not be best friends with everyone in the pack, but he was definitely accepted in a way that they weren’t. “And I am?” They stifled a laugh, to which he answered with a shrug. The ambiguity of that answer was frustrating, but now they were too tipsy to be bothered by it. Nobody liked being clear anymore. It was always shrugs, “whatever”s and “I don’t know”s. But everyone did know, and just didn’t want to tell them.  “Why are you drinking anyway? I thought being an alcoholic this young was a European thing.”  “I’m not an alcoholic.” They defended, narrowing their eyes at him. “You and your friends are just impossible to deal with sober, actually.” They snapped back. “So you’re drunk at every pack meeting then?” He asked with a slight tilt of his head. If they weren’t restrained by the drink in their hand, he would’ve earned a whack to the head. And everyone calls their questions dumb.  “Obviously not, jackass.” They glared again before looking back at the others. They were kicking a ball around now and yelling at each other from opposite ends of the grass. It was loud enough to drown out whatever Chrissy was rambling about now. They almost felt hypnotised, fantasising about how things could be if they could just fit in. Sure it felt impossible, but everyone made it look so easy. 

If they could just learn the rules. 

If they could just force a bigger smile.

If they could be smaller, just take up less space. 

If they just weren’t so much of them self they could be running around, playing the sports they love, yelling to friends who actually cared.

But in the end that’s all it was. A fantasy. No amount of watering down or pretending was going to make it feel right. Once these social circles form and bonds are created, there’s no magically changing them.  

“—Are you even listening?” They finally heard Chrissy say before the ball came flying in their direction. They’d barely moved their head out the way in time, but managed to catch it in their hands. In this one minor instance, luck was actually on their side. “No, I did tell you we aren’t friends.” They answered, staring at the ball in their hands. 

Everything and everyone seemed to stop. Did they have to fucking stare like that? They thought, looking up to several expectant pairs of eyes. It honestly infuriated them more that they still cared. People were always staring and squinting and waiting for them to do something. Why can’t they just let it go? Why did they have to be so self-conscious?  “…How did you even manage to kick the ball over here?” They finally asked, trying to be lighthearted. 

No one caught on though. Instead, David awkwardly walked over, blankly staring at them. Was he mad at them for the question?

“Are you okay-?” “What-? Yeah I’m fine, it didn’t even hit me—“ “Okay, you don’t have to be so aggressive, I was just asking.” He rolled his eyes before taking the ball from them. “You don’t have to be here with us y’know,” “Well they aren’t spoilt for choice, who else do they hang around?” Christian asked, making a smile tug on David’s lips before he threw the ball back to the others.  

Are you fucking kidding me? They chugged the rest of their drink and tossed the flask aside, glaring at the ground. Apparently these people were fine with Christian’s shitty jabs when it was them, but not when it was Asher, or Milo, or David or literally anybody else. This was stupid. All of it was so damn, stupid. “Wait, are you crying?” “What the fuck— no!” Their head snapped up, but inconveniently their voice was starting to break. “I was only joking jeez, I thought the drink was supposed to make you less— whatever this is—?”   This?? They furiously repeated in their head, glaring into Christian’s soul before looking down at the grass again. The drink wasn’t going to make them less of anything. In fact, all it did was make those buttons easier to push. Why was everybody so against them? Who did they wrong in a past life to be born this way? Is there nothing and no one that can fix them being such a failure? Is this really completely out of their control — had they somehow become a helpless puppet to their useless, clueless mind? 

“Christian, go away.” “Someone’s a sad drunk,” "I said get the fuck, away!” They shoved him, and he stared, taken aback by the yelling. Everyone had stopped again to figure out what was going on, but no one dared interfere with the newer freak and that snarky Aussie. Their shoulders tensed, they were heaving, every thought in their brain came crashing down on them and there was a burning sensation in their throat to match their glistening eyes. Home, some desperate part of their soul begged, home I want to go home, it insists while they pick off the empty flask and storm away. 

But for them, there was no home. For their soul there was no rest. No one could hear their hearts cries behind the bars of their mental prison. The young wolf was doomed to be an eternally wandering soul. They will never truly feel at home. 

[diyunho]

The Joker x Reader - “Freaks” Part 1

Y/N is a metahuman with several peculiarities, but one could say the weirdest is her heart: it is gated by four locks that make it impossible for the woman to fall in love. Also one could say she’s manipulative, cunning and ruthless. Sounds familiar? Maybe that’s why The Joker is the perfect candidate to help her finally get something she always desired: a one of a kind heir.

“Yoooo-hoooooooooo, Mister Jooo-kkkeeerrr!!!!” Bane skips along the poorly lit corridor since it’s almost 11 at night and the Arkham inmates are supposed to be asleep. Yet they’re not: the ruckus woke them all up and now they are standing by the glass walls facing the hallway, wondering what the heck is going on.

The real Bane sighs, completely unappreciative of you borrowing his physical appearance.  

“Hey, cut it out!” he admonishes as Y/N passes by and she decides to stop for a moment.

“Hello there handsome,” you swing your hips while walking towards him and The Riddler snorts, entertained: his cell is right across so it’s not like he can miss the show.

“If you’re going to mimic me, don’t do stuff like that!” Bane hisses through his mask, irritated.

“Apologies honey,” you wink and continue. “Far from me to purposely chop your masculinity to pieces,” but seductively sway on the tip of the heavy boots, taunting more because... who’s going to stop you?

“Seriously?!” Bane growls and you cut him some slack, transforming into The Joker for a few seconds.

“Jeez, don’t get worked up,” you smirk and blow the green hair off your face. “I’m looking for this guy, I know he’s here too.”

“Why are you looking for him?” Killer Croc punches his fists together, hoping he can twist your presence in his favor.

“I need him for breeding purposes,” you serenely admit as The Clown Prince of Crime rolls his eyes three padded rooms up from your present location.

“I told you before I can help with that,” Harvey Dent flips his coin in the air, not understanding why his offer was rejected numerous times.

“Me too!” The Riddler grins. “You should forget about the man that repeatedly refuses your advances and pick one of us,” the mastermind gestures at the cells containing prisoners willing to take on the task.

“I want him,” you revert to your human form, Mr. Freeze gasping with admiration: he’s been a fan for the past two years. “He’s the only male I’m compatible with for procreation on this continent and nobody else will do.”

“How do you know?” Deadshot addresses the burning question.

“I just know, ok?” you pout not wishing to get into details. “That’s why I’m here to bail him out. I helped his men clear the area so we can rescue the father of my future baby.”

“Ugghhhh,” a displeased and very loud protest is heard from The Joker’s cell.

“There you are,” you light up with the happiest smile and abandon the captives held in pretty boxes lined up on the south side of Arkham Asylum.

“Hey Y/N,” Jonathan Crane smacks his lips, “if you get me out of here also I’ll give you two millions.”

“I’ll give you double!” The Penguin shouts and Bane promises:

“I’ll give you three!”

The offers keep on pouring in and the shapeshifter is not a person to say no to easy money.

“Might as well,” you press the yellow buttons outside everyone’s incarceration chambers, leaving the best for last.

“Hiiii Mister Jooooker,” you drag the words and he grumbles, squeezing past you as soon as the glass slides enough for him to emerge from the cell.

“Shut up!” he barks and you couldn’t care less about his crabbiness.

“Your crew is waiting outside,” you giggle and turn into Frost, escorting the grouchy Clown in the direction of the exit you know it’s safe to take.

“Would you look at that?” The Shark teases, not being able to contain his laughter.

“Holy shit!” Panda tries to keep it together yet it’s impossible: the real Frost gives them a dismissing glare, annoyed Y/N is lovingly holding The Joker’s arm as they come down the stairs, definitely engaged in some sort of argument.

“That’s obviously not me!” Jonny mutters and there are more disrespectful remarks from the henchmen patiently waiting for their boss.

“It’s still funny as hell!” Richard underlines and swallows his sentence when Y/N posing as Frost kisses The Joker’s cheek.

“One more sound out of you jerks and I’ll bash your brains in!” Jonny threatens because he’s sick and tired of Y/N playing charades at his expense.

Thankfully you switch to your old self immediately after but the team is glad they’ll have something to tease Frost with in the weeks to come. Although it can be overdone: under the apparent calmness he has quite a wretched temper.

“Delivered as agreed,” you cheerfully announce to his gang and follow J even if he’s not thrilled about it.

“Get lost!” he angrily stomps, pushing you away when you grab his hand again.

“Stop being so rude!” you remodel your body after his and he takes a deep breath, staring back at another fabulous J courtesy of Y/N.

“Stop mimicking me!!!” he sneers and Panda comments in a low tone, convinced he’s far behind to safely say it:

“Two Jokers. God Forbids!”

A couple of goons nearby snicker and the amusement abruptly halts when you raise your voice:

“I heard that!!!”

“Huh?” J inquires.

You just lift your shoulders up, not wanting to distract him from what he has to focus on: making sure he fulfils your demand.

The First Lock  

“You’re still here?!” The King of Gotham comes out of the bathroom, intensely drying his wet hair with a towel. “I thought that by the time I’m out of the shower you’ll be gone.”

You gaze at his naked body, reckoning it’s a nice coincidence to be compatible with such a beautiful specimen. Could be much worse.

“Why don’t you want to help me?” you ask and The Joker is aware what you’re referring to. “I’ve been begging you for a year; I must emphasize I’m losing hope and I will probably have to move to another continent in order to find a new prototype that could give me an heir.”

“Not my problem. Why do you want a kid?” he tosses the towel on the floor and digs around in the closet for a pair of boxers.

“So I won’t be alone,” the disarming reply makes him tilt his head to analyze the stubborn metahuman that pesters him on a regular basis about crap he doesn’t give a damn about. “The storm is coming,” you shift the subject when the lighting strikes the dark skies in the distance at 1:23 in the morning.

J gulps, uneasy: he saw the 6 feet creature for a split second and it certainly startled him.

“Apologies, Mister Joker,” you try to fix the mistake because it’s evident his reaction is below excitement standards. “The fire bolt must have projected my true nature. You only tolerate the pretty side, don’t you?” the sadness in your demeanor confuses J. “They all do…” Y/N whispers to herself. “Is this better?” you transform into Poison Ivy, then Cat Woman, then a random blonde girl with big boobs; by the seventh option The Joker had enough.

“Cut it out!” he finally finds his favorite underwear and you stand by the bed, opting out to be your human self for his sake.

“Can you please help me?” a disappointed woman pleads since he’s getting ready to go to sleep.

“Why would I help you?” The Joker snaps, hoping you’ll disappear from the premises and let him rest at the mansion he found refuge at after breaking out of Arkham.

Your eyes get teary and he never saw you show any type of weakness before; it’s sort of uncomfortable even for him.

“Because us freaks have to stick together.”

“Speak for yourself!” J gets mad at your affirmation and doesn’t know how to react to the tears rolling down your cheeks. “Mmmmm,” he debates, deep in thought: the insane Clown was captive for almost three months and a half and they surely don’t allow any conjugal visits in that shithole. Not that he has anybody in particular that would come to tend to his urges.

“If I help you,” the sudden switch in mood makes you pay attention, “will you quit bothering me?”

“Y-yes, of course! I swear!” you wipe your eyes, full of hope for once. “Since we’re a match it will only take one time! I’ll make it worth your while, I promise.”

You watch J take off his boxers and don’t blink when he yanks you in his arms, afraid he might change his mind: he’s not the most well balanced individual on the planet.

“No kissing,” you dodge his lips. “I only need the technical stuff.”

He gives you a cold stare, fed up with the infernal plague:

“You don’t get to make any other requests!” The Joker pulls you into a passionate kiss that unexpectedly shatters the first lock of your heart.

“Wait, wait…” you part from his soft lips, kind of drunk on the intimacy. “Did you hear that?!”

“Hear what?” he shoves Y/N on the bed and slowly crawls on top of her.

“That deafening noise.”

“Nope,” J purrs while carefully listening anyway. A strong thunder shakes the ground and he grins: “I heard it.”

“Not that, it was something else,” you attempt to explain and he buries his face in your cleavage, protesting the unwanted dialogue: 

“After chewing my ears for months, less yapping would be nice!”

You smile, delighted to have tricked The Joker with your fake tears; you sure counted on him being trapped inside the Asylum without any feminine presence to grace his existence and it payed off in the end. Making yourself available when nobody else is around brought the desired outcome: Y/N always gets what she wants.  

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

The Joker moans in his dream, unhappy with your wiggling.

“What is it?” he cuddles up to your body and it feels soft.

“I’m pregnant,” you yawn and he puffs in disbelief.

“Already?... We had sex a couple of hours ago.”

“U-hum,” you say and let him caress your skin, unaware your true essence peeked from behind the human shell. “It shouldn’t take too long. By morning I will have my heir.”

“That fast?” J opens his eyes since the pillow talk is actually interesting.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t notice I’m different,” you hum with your eyes closed, exhausted from the energy you have to channel into the tiny life growing inside your womb. The soon to be mother is so impatient she won’t skip accelerating the process at the expense of her own vitality.

“No kidding,” The King of Gotham mumbles, smitten with the apparition peacefully dozing off in his arms. The storm outside is wreaking havoc and each time lightning illuminates the blackness J can inspect the delicate feathers covering your body: when he touches you they change colors, red butterflies flying out of the pressed skin. He curiously pokes one and the illusion shatters into glowing dust resembling small fireworks.

The Joker has no clue that he is the first soul to ever see you like this; earlier he didn’t have the opportunity to comprehend what he saw, but he’s sure taking advantage of the situation now to understand what he’s looking at.

“Oh,” he touches your tummy that seems to expand with each passing moment: something is moving and he foolishly smirks without realizing.

Whatever is developing inside Y/N he helped create and strangely enough he can’t wait to see the result.

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

The Second Lock

J drags his feet on the wet grass, watching you admire the sunrise. He woke up and the bed was empty: made him wonder if you vanished without a trace. Yet there you are, waiting for him in the backyard since you figured you owe him this much.

“Mister Joker,” you chuckle, holding something wrapped up in a blanket. “I’m off to my house: thank you for participating in this project,” the indifferent metahuman blurs out: it’s the only speech she prepared. “I requested that everyone owing me money from last night should send it here,” you gesture at the huge duffel bag at your feet. “There’s 35 million dollars in here, all yours as a thank you for helping me.”

“Hm?” he crinkles his nose, insulted at the gift. “Do I look like a prostitute?!”

Why is he getting angry?... That’s a lot of money for a one night stand.

“They get paid for sex, don’t they?” he enlightens the puzzled Y/N. “What’s that?” J nods at the bundle you gently rock.

“My baby.”

“You gave birth?!” he forgets his hurt pride, not believing it’s already done.

“Yes, about 45 minutes ago,” you kiss your daughter’s forehead and her innocence makes your chest tightly constrict before the second lock of your heart is broken to pieces. “Did you hear that?” you interrogate the man you don’t need anymore.

“Hear what?” The Joker rushes to glimpse at the newborn as you step back, discontent he’s trying to take her.

“That horrifying bang! How can you not hear it?!”

“I have no idea what you’re rambling about,” he forcefully snatches the baby from Y/N’s embrace, grunting at her resistance. “Gimme, I wanna check out what I made!”

He parts the blanket aside and…

“Waaaaah,” the mesmerized parent holds his breath:

The sweet angel has wings embedded with neon green feathers, the same shade as J’s crazy hair.

“Are you done?” you attempt to reacquire your treasure and he slaps your arm.

“Little bird…” J runs his fingers along her wings and the mini-metahuman fusses a bit, already establishing a connection with her dad.

That’s exactly what you’re trying to avoid before it’s too late.

“Mister Joker, I have to go, ok??!!” you seek to remove the baby from her father.

“Stop bothering me!” he sucks on his teeth and begins striding towards the mansion while the panicked Y/N runs behind him.

“What are you doing? Give her back!”

“What should we name her?” The Joker ignores your outburst, totally struck with this overwhelming emotion washing over him.

Oh no, she’s already getting under his skin!

“WE?!” you shout, exasperated. “This is MY descendant!”

“You said I participated in the project so she’s half mine!” The Clown implies the obvious.“I think we should name her Emma, I always liked that name,” he adds to Y/N’s dismay. “Pretty bird…” J shuts you down as soon as you open your mouth to protest, stroking his daughter’s feathers.

He’s already addicted and this is a complete disaster!

“I’ll tell my boys to get baby supplies,” he decides without taking into consideration any opinions you might have about his plan.

“Why?!” you cringe at the proposal simply because The Joker is not part of the equation; but your daughter is already bonding with him and that’s something mommy can’t break: she has her own will and set of abilities enabling her to already make choices. You’re not sure why she’s making him believe he could be included into a two party family; there’s no space for a third, otherwise it would be a three party family and that won’t work.

“Don’t you need supplies for her?” he enters the master bedroom where the infant was conceived only hours ago.

You’re still on the patio, fuming at his absurdities.

“No, I have to go home! I’ll take care of it! Listen Mister Joker, I’m not expecting anything from you! ” you underline the truth and his witty response baffles Y/N:

“I was sure expected though to get naked and have sex right after escaping Arkham, huh?!” and The Joker protectively covers his daughter’s ears, his messed up brain figuring out she shouldn’t hear that. “Where’s home anyway, huh?” the tirade continues.

“That’s none of your business!” you shriek and he repositions Emma in his arms, preparing to lecture her mother when he gets distracted by the growth spur.

“Did she just get…bigger??!!!”

“Yes,” you join him in the middle of the room, explaining things you shouldn’t because frankly you should be at your residence by now. “She’s using capabilities inherited from me in order to speed up her evolution and then take a break to recharge around one year old landmark.”

“Fascinating,” J gushes while placing Emma on the couch: the baby is napping, not bothered by the quarrel anymore. “Wait here; I’ll go instruct my men on what we need.”

This is the limit to make you lose your marbles.

“There. Is. No. WE!” you thud on the wood floor and The Joker watches you get taller and taller until you can barely fit under the vaulted ceiling, electing to show him what he’s messing with. The metahuman transforms into the nightmare she really is: dark and sinister, covered in black feathers with sharp, long claws and fangs ready to tear apart the human trespassing a fine line.

That’s not what The Clown saw last night: you keep the beast caged but now IT needs to come out, otherwise he won’t understand the seriousness of his circumstances.

“You are not needed!” your heavy steps make the ground shake. “You are not wanted!” you corner The Joker between the table and the couch Emma is resting on. “Don’t stay in my way or you’ll regret it!!!! I’m taking my daughter and we’ll go: don’t try to stop me or I’ll kill you!!!” and you bend over to snarl in his face, prepared to shred him to pieces.

Eerie silence while J is gathering all his strength to put up with the fucked up events leading to this moment.  

“You two can’t go,” he straightness his back, so stiff one could think he swallowed a broomstick.

“Why not?” you smell his skin, antagonized.

The Joker tries to look as imposing as possible but he’s still half your size; nothing else in his mind besides some words of wisdom he’s about to repeat:

“Because us freaks have to stick together.”

You unravel your tusks, displeased with his strategy:

“Speak for yourself!”

That went down the drain fast, J thinks while the hideous mug a few inches away from his face doesn’t bulge. His eyes wander off to the sofa and he gasps:

“Where’s the baby?!”

A sharp claw points towards the ceiling and he looks up only to notice Emma snuggling in her blanket.

“Oh my God!” his eyes get big. “What is she doing there?!”

“Snoozing!”

“She’s gonna fall!” The Joker circles around you, worried about the angel.

“She’s not going to fall; she’s comfortable,” you huff and reach to caress her.

“Where are the wings?!” J glares at the gigantic mother tending to her peculiar offspring.

How many people have witnessed such bizarre sight? NONE. And yet The Clown is asking questions without a trace of disgust or judgement; only pure curiosity.

“They’ll come and go, she can’t fully control them yet.”

“Can you…can you turn into your usual self?” he suggests. “You’re very ugly like this and it’s spooking me out.”

“Do you know you’re interested in us because she’s making you?” the monster bites without using her fangs. “You’re useless, yet she wants you around.”

“Oh yeah?” The Joker’s attitude escalates despite the sticky context. “You’re useless also since you chased me until I slept with you; she exists thanks to my help! You should be ecstatic!!”

“Money is not enough?!” you gradually switch to the Y/N he’s familiar with even if you’re still mad.

“I have money,” The King of Gotham pretends not to be relieved by the welcomed transmutation.

“Then what do you want?” you attempt to compromise for your daughter’s sake.

“My birds,” he calmly admits.

You debate on his stupid reply: is J deaf and didn’t catch the memo?! He might be because he keeps on telling you he didn’t discern the odd, loud noises you heard twice so far.

You are not aware it would be such a blessing to hear those sounds again: it could mean the unconventional family Emma is trying to keep together might actually work.    

Also read: MASTERLIST

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