Warnings: Abusive behavior (that’s what you get for dating the Joker), Swearing, Hitting, Unhealthy relationship (not surprising is it?)
Summary: Reader is in a relationship with Joker, like in Harley’s place, and there has been awhile since she (can actually be a male!reader or gender neutral as well since there is no mentions of sex) has seen him after a gig that went wrong. Will he come back for revenge or to company his love with good intentions?
The joker also goes with the (h/c) of choice cause I really didn’t want to make this to be based on one specific joker. It could be Jerome, or Suicide Squad Jared Leto’s joker or from the animated series or movies. Your choice. I hope you enjoy this and tell me if you’d like more fics with harley kind of reader (I already have one request of reader having Harley based history and story in general of being Joker’s therapist in Arkham so there’s that) ENJOY
I had never been feeling this bored in my whole life. Just sitting in my apartment, staring at the walls and the ceiling, switching positions, walking from a furniture to the other. Laying on my bed, sitting on my couch and sometimes lying on the floor. Occasionally sighing out loud due the torturing dullness. I played with my (h/c) silky (h/l) hair my eyes lifeless and my mind occupied. Once again I started questioning my own decisions. It wasn’t like I regretted any of them, I guess, it was just that if I had chosen other vice I wouldn’t be here and alone. But would I be here at all. Not here here, but here. In the world, alive. So much had been going on just a couple of weeks ago, but after that. Nothing. I haven’t even heard of anyone who was part of the operation back then. Not them and most importantly, not him.
Just breaking in to the old chemistry lab, no biggie. It was nice and almost nostalgic if you think about it. Even if it had only been two years since the last time we were there stealing some chemicals and messing with the security guards it was still some what treasured memory. But not everything went as smoothly as we planned, no, everything turned to shit the moment the lights turned on. So they did have motion sensors on the lights, who would have guessed? And if that wasn’t enough it also alerted reinforcement of guards. We had taken down the couple that were patrolling at the factory but the new group was more than we could handle and not just that, of course Batman had to come too. After running around the mill for about an hour, collecting everything in need and what we could carry the flying rat found us. We had been lucky with the guards, I mean me and him, others had just disappeared or probably arrested but of course our luck ran out at that second when the man dressed in black leather and a cape arrived. Taking my mallet with out even thinking I charged at the bat and swing the heavy weapon at him, but swiftly he dodged and the mallet hit couple of boxes, trashing the wood in splinters and getting stuck. I tried pulling the thing off, trying to swing it over my shoulder but it was stuck in place and I had to move fast if I didn’t want to end up in jail. I turned and dodged, knowing Batman was going to hit me down and managing to get some space in between us. I also looked a little around myself. That bastard! Of course he fled. Leaving me to deal with Batman again, alone! Ugh. Like every other time. He leaves, I end up in jail, break out, he collects me from god knows where after I’ve made myself in the headlines how much I had tormented cities and stole money and then end up in this position again. ”Not this time!” I growl madly, my eyes glistening in the dim light and taking a hold of the mallet, with rage I pull the the fucking thing up, swing it across the air and hit Bats in the head. He doesn’t lose his consciousness though, but he does wobble the few next steps. My time to shine. I don’t have time to kill the guy, but I do knock him off his feet, hopefully making some critical damage to his feet, and taking my exit. I’m in the second floor of the building and it’s not one of those two to three meters high floors, no, this is a chemistry lab. An old factory. It’s high enough for me to die if I jump. Oh well, time to call for my reinforcement. I take the phone I had in my back pocket and go through the names humming nervously and gazing over my shoulder every second. I then notice my phone’s screen go black and in a blink of an eye there reads PUDDIN in big bold letters with buttons for answer and decline. I of course answer the call and in no time, before getting even a chance of answering he starts yelling in the phone. ”Where are you?” His raging. His completely losing it and I can feel my heart beat speeding. ”You better be with the Batman keeping him off my tail!” My reply has no confidence on it, I stutter and smile nervously at my end of the line. ”I was just going to call us a ride.” ”What?” He snaps and I flinch at the sharpness of his tone. ”You better turn back and find the bat, keep him busy. I’ll get the ride and you better find him fast because I will kill you with my bare hands if he finds me first!” Then the line goes silent. I feel despair filling my body. I take a deep breath and turn my back to the open sky, staring at the door where I came from to the roof. The wind starts blowing fast, my hair moving with it and I hear a loud noise from behind me. I turn around, scared it’s Batman with his plane thing, but see a helicopter. It has to be our ride. No. It’s his ride. I’m not supposed to be here, I’m supposed to be left behind to keep Bats busy. The pilot’s buddy hangs half out of the copter, calling for me. ”You guys needed a lift?” He yells over the noise. ”Yeah, but he’s still inside!” I yell back. Then I hear a police car, I head to the rail of the roof and gaze over. Shit, there’s Gordon. Things are going way too fast forward. The game’s almost over. I feel my insides making turn in my stomach. This will not end well. ”We can’t stay here and wait for him!” The guy yells at me. ”I’m not going to take a risk of ending up in jail. We gotta go now!” He then straightens his arm, extending it towards me. ”Come on!” I’m scared. I’ve disobeyed his commands many times this night already and from here there might not be chances of going back. ”He’ll kill us!” I yell over the noise, it’s almost deafening. ”He’ll kill us if we let something happen to you!” He shouts. ”Jump! Now!” He’s command hits a nerve. I feel a rush going trough me. It’s maybe the harshness of his voice or the loud noise, but I throw the mallet behind me, charge at the copter and take a hold of the man’s hand. With that we leave. And after that night I never heard of them.
I keep staring at the ceiling. I’m lying on the floor, on my back in front of my sofa. With lazy eyes, wondering thoughts I sit up. I start to stare at the wall. What if I had stayed? What if I had went to look for Batman? Would I have found him? Would I have ended up in Arkham again? Or would’ve I ran into Joker and got my head blown off? What if he got arrested? Almost hoping it would be true I play with the thought. He’d be locked up for awhile, but soon enough breaking out. He always does. He’d come for me and kill me. But if he didn’t get caught, where was he? Or was… I jump up from the floor. He couldn’t be dead, right? That would be all over the news, wouldn’t it? I… What would I… I grip the sides of my head, going through the thought of loss and emptiness, panicking like mad. What do I do? It’s my fault! If I would’ve stayed-! My thoughts and panic are interrupted. There is a loud knock on the door. I turn my head to the direction of the source of the sound but do not move. Should I go see who it is? Or just stay here, and wait for them to go away? But to my surprise the next sound is not something that I expected. There is a key now, on the lock of my door, turning in and giving slowly and agonizingly access to the person to my apartment. I grab my mallet, a wooden one, next to the doorway of the kitchen and swing it over my shoulder, getting ready for a fight. ”Honey, I’m home!” The voice is happy and high pitched, it sends a spark go through my brain, instantly I let the mallet fall on the floor and cry happily ”Puddin?” Tears are forming in the corners of my eyes and I charged at the man at the door way. Before I had even taken a hold of the thought of losing the psycho, he appears at my door, with a smile on his face like nothing had happened. Overjoyed I was. Of course. Not seeing him for too long I missed him more than I like to admit, but he probably knows it. Every memory of the night we were separated slip from my head and all I want is to hug him and kiss him! He smiles wickedly, he doesn’t look any different. He hasn’t any cuts or bruises on his face or any marks of a fight. I start to rethink what had happened. Probably nothing. He just got away, took his time and headed home. Home. To me. His (h/c) hair was messy, slightly pulled back and his pale skin glistening of sweat. Had he been doing something before he got here? His clothes were a bit wet, the weather in Gotham had never been that good and rain wasn’t something that surprised the citizens. It had been clouded for weeks now and raining from day to day with out breaks. He shuts the door behind him with an aggressively loud bang and turns to scowl at me and then I notice I have acted to hastily. I’m right in front of him, only couple inches in between us and he swings the back of his right hand across my face. I fall on my ass with a loud thud and end up rubbing my now red, hurting cheek. The tears in my eyes now staining my cheeks. ”You stupid bitch!” He snaps and readies his hand for another hit. He slams my other cheek, making me fall on the floor, on my side. Then he walked over me, positions himself on his knees and takes his hands on my neck, putting pressure on his fingers he squeezes my windpipe until I can’t do nothing else than gasp for air. ”You couldn’t follow my simple orders but left me handle all those idiots all alone and if it wasn’t enough you also stole my ride!” He put more pressure on my neck, I moved my hands on the floor, trying to grab something. ”It didn’t take me long to find those brutes though, but don’t worry, you’ll see them soon enough!” He laughs maniacally, the sound so familiar to me that it feels like it hasn’t really been that long since the last time I heard it. Then I feel something on the end of my fingers. There’s a baseball bat under my bed and I grab it and aim to the clowns head. He yelps and falls off of me, some hair falling over his face, I jump up, a little dizzy and take my time to breath evenly again, still holding onto the bat. ”Why you little…” He growls as he stands up, pulling the loose strands of hair back from clouding his vision, glaring me. There is a long space between us and with the bat in hand I keep it that way, or intend to. ”I waited for you!” I snapped and swing the bat at his direction, he of course dodges it easily and I take a step closer, heading for a good target and space. ”I told them to wait!” With another swing I hit his right shoulder. ”But it was too late!” I snap and lift the bat over my head and swing it at his head, but he slips right past me, and behind my back he goes. I hit the floor with the bat, hear a loud bang and lift it up again. I turn to face him. ”Oh so it is my fault the gig got ruined?” He holds his hand over his chest like he is offended. A glint in my eyes I react to his words. ”Yes!” I groan. ”You left me with the Bat, again! You always do that you asshole!” And I let the bat fly through the air this time hitting the wall. Why can’t he stay put! ”And I’ve had it with how things go! I help you out, I get caught, I break out on my own and then you show up when you see me useful again!” I pull the bat over my head again, readying myself when the Joker pulls a gun from his pocket and pulls the trigger, firing and blasting the bat in bits. I throw the holder of the remains of my weapon over my shoulder and head for my mallet but before I get even close to the thing, Joker snatches me and pulls me close to him. Before I can do or say anything he smashes his lips against mine. The kiss is forceful, but passionate. Even if I tried I couldn’t get myself free from his hold. A part of me wants to try though and another part, well, the most of me missed this. I let my body relax, leaning against him and feeling his arms wrap around my waist, trapping me in place. It’s not intimidating. No, not anymore and I can feel myself fully enjoying the embrace, taking a hold of the back of his jacket with my other hand and the other burying my fingers in his hair and pulling him closer to me, even though there was no space between us. It takes us minutes to get ourselves pause our make out session and with a dizzy feeling in my head, a stupid grin on my face I stare at his eyes as he pulls away from me, only just a little, not letting me go of his arms, but so we can breathe. ”I’m sorry honey that our little date got ruined back then.” He smiled at me, his fingers playing with my hair. ”But next time do as daddy says, alright?” His comment wakes me up from the venomous effect of the kiss and I frown. ”But I would’ve ended up in Arkham.” I say softly, pouting like a kid but keeping my voice down, not wanting to anger him again. The situation had died down and ended nice enough and I didn’t want to push my luck. ”Again.” I added quietly. Joker only grinned at me and caressed my cheek gently. ”You would’ve gotten out in no time.” He said, but knew that wouldn’t calm me down so he continued. ”There is nothing that will keep us apart and you know it. Otherwice I wouldn’t be here now, now would I?” I laughed and nuzzled close to him, my head on the crook of his neck while his arm was around my waist loosely. ”Now, it’s been long since we had fun, hasn’t it?” He hinted, which made me giggle. ”Why won’t we relax and have fun just the two of us for the next couple of days, huh?” The thought made my body tingle, there was nothing I wanted or treasured more than alone time with my Joker.
Red Room & Winter Soldier Programs in the MCU - Part II
As a part of #Buckynat Week sponsored by fuckyeahbuckynatasha, I’m contributing a summary of the Marvel Cinematic Universe (MCU) depiction of the Soviet Red Room and Winter Soldier programs.
In long-standing comic canon, the Red Room Academy produced Natasha Romanoff as a Black Widow operative; the parallel Winter Soldier program produced a brain-washed super-assassin out of an injured James ‘Bucky’ Barnes. The last four episodes of the Agent Carter TV series lifted the curtain on what was simply speculation of Natasha’s past Soviet training and, to a lesser extent, Bucky’s ‘recruitment’ by the Russians within the MCU.
In the first part of this MCU-focused meta, I explored the Red Room indoctrination and training practices used to make girls into Soviet covert operatives. This second part focuses on two of the masterminds responsible for the Winter Soldier program. The third part (forthcoming) will be more speculative, as I make connections between the Red Room and Winter Soldier programs as well as some predictions for Natasha’s backstory in Age of Ultron. Most Especially, because it’s #Buckynat Week, I’ll go on even further out on a limb and suggest a possible romantic dynamic for Natasha and Bucky in Captain America: Civil War.
Spoiler Alert! Obviously, I’m discussing many of the events of the first season of Agent Carter, Captain America: The First Avenger, and Captain America: The Winter Soldier (as well as touch on other Marvel movies as they apply), so if you wish to remain spoiler-free, this is your chance to avert your eyes.
I’m not sure what’s wrong with me - I want to build small motels, trailers, gas stations, little markets and dive bars, but I keep making those montrosities.
I wanted Tabs’ family to run a fashion house, but it would require too much cc to build, so they will own a beauty company instead (I finally found some use for those crazy-looking cupcake machines!).
LaSul Labs, part of JDC Group Inc. (no cc)
A flagship cosmetics store, a beauty salon, an office, a lab and a factory - all in one building.
I’m sorry for the weird previews (the disappearing columns, smh) – it’s just not my forte. But look at the first picture with the logo thingy, I totally copied @jenba! :D I’ve changed the planters in the “greenhouse” (third picture) and put some harvestable plants in there (mainly herbs), but I really liked the lighting in my older preview photo. ;D The old planters are also on the floor plan pic, sorry! I didn’t include a plan of the third level, but it’s just an office space.
The lot is set as a spa. To use it as an office with Zerbu’s Turbo Carrers mod you would have to add some kitchen stuff (maybe on the top level – it’s empty).
Lot size: 20x30. I used objects from Get to Work, Spa Day, a plant from Perfect Patio (it’s in the „store”) and harvestable plants from Outdoor Retreat.
It’s in the Gallery (LaSul Labs), tagged with #simmingstuff.
I hope you like it and if you use it, please let me know if there are any problems. Thank you!
PS. Just hammer down that picture on the window (in the conference room). I’m old and blind.
Where do scientific advancements come from in an ancom society? Science requires such large scale collaborations that I'm struggling to see how that'd be possible with anarchism.
I imagine a post-capitalist
world would be significantly more conducive to scientific and
technological development. Barring military
applications, pretty much every scientist and engineer at present has to
jockey for funding, and all gains are framed in terms of return on
Profit motive forces researchers to answer to
shareholders in often unrealistic timetables.
Under capitalism, knowledge and technology are meaningless
without potential commercial value.
The labs and factories would still operate, but they would do so
without having to perpetually justify themselves to investors.
I don’t see any real issue with anarchism and collaborations - maybe some
scientists volunteer to be liaisons between facilities. Cooperation would
be encouraged, so I can imagine extensive, possibly real-time communication
between labs to ensure there is no unplanned redundancy (think reinvention and competition by identical means, not deliberate parallel development to explore multiple methods).
Major projects - the construction of particle colliders, reactors, and anything destined for space - would require a great deal of communication and planning to allocate the necessary resources. Building an orbital telescope could be done by a kind of crowdfunding, where the components lists would be made available and workers in relevant industries could sign up to provide whatever they could. I think many workers would be enthusiastic about scientific participation. I’d personally be thrilled to have a hand in any project like that, as it would be a challenge and a legacy.
What you call your ideas affects what you can do with them
If you call an idea a “hunch,” or a “theory,” you give yourself permission to explore it more freely.
Similarly, if you call it what it is – an idea – you’ve established it as a more concrete thing; something that has potentially reached an end state.
The words we use when we’re thinking, or working, or day dreaming, matter. They impact our processes and our perception of what we can (and cannot) do.
If you call what you’re doing “an experiment” or “play” then you’ve just made it ok to fail. A failed experiment isn’t a failure, because you can learn from it and test again. Whereas if you call what you’re doing “work,” any type of failure becomes a little bit more intimidating; something very real is on the line.
This is true about the elements and environment you work with and in as well.
Call your home office an office and it undoubtedly becomes about work, structure, and responsibility. Call it a “lab,” a “factory,” or “studio” and you’ve given yourself permission to focus on curiosity, to be an artist, or to make a mess.
If you always refer to the things you use to do what you do – the pen and paper, the keyboard, the canvas, or the applications – as “tools,” that’s limiting as well. Rather than viewing those things as tools, what would happen if you started viewing them as pieces of a puzzle, or as extensions of yourself, or as parts of your process that alienate the rest?
A peculiar thing happens when we make subtle shifts in the language we use to describe what we do and how we do it. No longer are we restricted to our ingrained understanding of these things, but we become much more aware of our own processes and the perceived limitations that were just that: imagined.
Words matter. Calling something a “hunch” vs. calling it an “idea” changes what you can do with it next.