squints how do i


I spent more time on his hat than his face tbh and didn’t put a lot of effort in his clothes but here is the thing

I need them to post more selfies so I can draw more 😬😬😬


Characters: Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki, Reader (Y/N Y/L/N)

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Summary: Jensen forgets an important day for the Reader and he tries to come up with a good way of apologizing.

Word Count: 2k-ish

Warnings: Fluff 

Author’s Note: Heyy guys! This is my entry for @buckysmetallicstump‘s Disney Quote Challenge. My quote is bolded! I hope you guys like this! I’m still trying to get back into the groove of writing. I’m sorry if this isn’t up to par. *hides face* feedback is always welcomed!!

Eleven missed calls.

I knew I had screwed up when her phone went straight to voicemail after the third ring. She was avoiding my calls, that much I knew. I tried racking my brain, coming up blank with reasons for the cold shoulder she was giving me.

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I’ve Got You

Cissy is wrapped up in a blanket in the suite of rooms that, until yesterday evening, belonged to her older sister.

Bella, who’s been looking for her, bursts in and sits down opposite her.

Cissy: She’s our sister.

Bella: Was our sister.

Bella: She doesn’t deserve your tears.  She left us.  She left you.

Cissy: I know.

Cissy: Over you, too.

Bella: Yeah, but she always liked you better.

Bella: She chose a monkey over the most beautiful, clever, witty, compassionate person I know.  

Bella: Don’t you dare let this make you think any different.

Bella: She was never going to change her mind and if you couldn’t persuade her, no one could.

Bella: What?

Cissy: I know - ‘Black women never break’. 

Cissy: I know that and I won’t.

Bella: But?

Bella: Shh, I know.  It’s ok.

Bella: I’ve got you.


Drabble: Snack

Pairing: Lance Tucker x Reader

Summary: Went grocery shopping with a diet plan, came out with a coach.

Warnings: Fluff

Words: 1k probs

A/N: This one’s for @whotheeffisbucky Hope this cheers you up. I don’t have much time, so I couldn’t make this as long as I wanted to. Also, I’m not the best when it comes to fluff, so… #ITried

Originally posted by howifeelwhenchrisevans

You looked down at the vegetables resting on your arms for the third time, not so convinced that you actually wanted to change your cardiac clogger diet anymore.

“C’mon, they’re tasty.” You heard her say playfully.

“I’m gonna take a bite.” You warned.

“Wait, what? What the hell (y/n) don’t-” She heard how you munched loudly on the other end of the phone line and rolled her eyes, sighing.

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 A/N: alrighty here we go. This is the first fic where I feel like the warnings were rally nescessary. I didn’t really proof read this so I hope its alright.It really sucks because I broke my flashdrive again (becuase I have the worst luck). Please send in some asks, suggestions, messages and comments.

Title: Helpless

Rating: Mature (because I am not sure)

Pairings: Thomas Jefferson x reader, reader x abusive!boyfriend

Warnings: violence, abuse, abusive relationship, sad topics, a bit depressing, cheating (if you like squint)

Wordcount: 1935


*Jefferson’s POV*

How often do you feel absolutely helpless? I don’t mean like ‘Oh I don’t know what to do?’, I mean like completely trembling and all your emotions and mixing together so much so that you have no idea how to react, feel, or think.

That’s how I felt when I looked at Y/N and noticed she had a black eye and split lip. She looked like she had been crying when she walked into the coffee shop. When she sat down she gave me a slight smile and began rambling about how clumsy she was. I knew it was a lie. I didn’t care about her fake story. I immediately cut her off by standing up.

“Stop Y/N, just stop. Please, sweet heart,” I told her as I grabbed her hand and pulled her out into the street to hail a cab. I looked at her and noticed the tears springing to her eyes again and I sighed. I yanked her hand and pulled her into my arms. She tensed and gripped my magenta jacket before openly sobbing into my arms. I felt my own tears spring into my eyes but held back remembering that this wasn’t about how I felt. The cab pulled up to the side of the street and I gently guided her into the back seat. I followed in immediately before wrapping my arms around her again as I told the guy my address.

*Y/N’s POV*

It was really warm in the cab and safe in Thomas’s arms as I felt us begin to move. I knew he was upset by the way his arms with taught around me in a secure embrace. Ryan had yelled at me again last night and I tried to avoid the confrontation as much as possible. But when Ryan wanted to fight there was no way to could get out of it. The tears finally stop streaming down my face and let my grip on Thomas’s jacket loosen. I turned my head to the side and rested gently on his chest as I focused on taking deep breathes. I looked out the front window and smiled as I watched the tall buildings blur past. I loved New York City, it was really busy and frantic just like myself. I frowned as I couldn’t help but notice the cloudy and windy weather matched my mood.

“I hope it rains,” I heard Thomas say next to me.

“Why? Isn’t it a bit depressing when the weather is like this?,” I question my face twisting into a scowl as I gripped his jacket again and wiggle into his side pushing my face back into his chest. I felt his hand gently move and rest on the small of my back while the other arm stayed up around my shoulders.

“Water is life. Therefore, rain kind of symbolizes new birth doesn’t it? Not to mention I love thunder. I know a lot of people hate it or are scared of it but the sound is so ethereal.” He said and I glanced up to notice his eyes staring out the window. The cloudy weather didn’t allow a lot of light through but the soft almost gray light seemed to outline his profile and make his look a lot older. He turned and looked down at me. He gently took his hand from the small of my back and brought it to my cheek. I felt his thumb gently stroke where the bruise rested right under my eye. “You put ice on it last night right darling?” he asked with concern shining in his eyes and his southern drawl coming out in full force. I gently nodded and looked down with shame etched on my features. I hated worrying him.

“We’re here.” The guy said from the front. Thomas temporarily unwrapped his arms and leaned forward, pulling out his wallet before handing over the fare. He opened the door and stepped out, making sure to grab my hand and pull with slightly more force than necessary. He was always demanding. I shook as the forceful wind made me stumble slightly and shiver. Thomas look back and frowned before stepping forward and wrapping his arms around me, blocking the wind and ushering me into the apartment complex. He got to his door and still refused to let me go and opened the door one handed. Once in the apartment he ordered me to the coach and began walking to the different rooms and collecting items with purpose.

I took the time to look around the apartment. I had been here multiple times, almost as much as my own house actually. I recalled walking in here the first time and being amazed at how warm and comfy it was. I had met him at his job where he worked as a consultant for a major political firm in the city. I had been asked to make a flower delivery for my part time job. I had strolled in with the cart of flowers and began setting them out as instructed when a man, namely Thomas, had asked if you needed any help considering his next conference didn’t start for another hour. I smiled and agreed. He began talking as her worked having no problem starting and maintaining a conversation with me. Anyone else in that position might have found him pushy but I just found him funny and confident. We had agreed to meet each other for coffee after that. I had developed a great friendship with him when he started inviting me over to hang out. I had developed a high opinion of him. I expected flat sofas and modern décor with monochrome for his apartment style but I was dead wrong.

I looked around the room as I threaded my hand into the red fur pillows that were on the plush black leather coach and looked to my feet and the plush purple carpet beneath them. Almost the entire apartment was paneled in a wood and Thomas has made sure that the mantel on which the TV sat was a cobble stone. It was extremely warm and homely with pictures of Thomas’s family and friends in Virginia hanging in the wall. I had asked him about his styling choices and he had responded with the fact that he wanted it to feel like home. I leaned back into the coach letting out a little huff as my back hit the coach. I looked over the lamp on the table and smiled. I had knocked over the previous lamp one time while dancing with Thomas and he had replaced it with a loud orange skinny lamp and purple lamp shade. It was so ugly but Thomas had fawned over the lamp and told me very sternly that if I broke it he would never allow me back in his apartment.

“Go change in the bathroom. I want you to be comfortable darling.” I heard Thomas say sternly. I was snapped out of my revere and there was Thomas standing in front of me and holding out a pair of his boxers and a sweat shirt. He shook the clothes in front of me when I didn’t move. I finally grabbed them and walked into the bathroom to change. I wasn’t sure about taking off my turtle neck. I shook as I pulled it over my head and looked into the mirror only to gasp when I noticed the ring of bruises from Ryan’s hands around my neck had darkened in color. I had been so panicked at the time it didn’t even hurt. I trailed my hands down my sides and let out a sigh. Thomas would see them and get upset. I felt better here though. I felt safer. Last night after Ryan screamed and hit in his drunken state he had locked the bedroom door and I just continued to cower in the corner and eventually got up to get ice and nurse my wounds. I hadn’t even changed my clothes this morning because Ryan was still locked in the bedroom. Tears sprung to my eye but I quickly got control of them and finished changing before summoning the courage to walk out into the family room again.

“MY GOD.” Thomas shouted and I looked up from my feet and flinched at his shocked expression.

*Thomas’s POV*

“MY GOD.” I shouted in shocked at the sight before me. Y/N had changed from her turtle neck and dark bruises surrounded her throat. I notice her flinch and immediately tried to restrain the anger that was surfacing. I would fucking kill her boyfriend. When I found out she had a boyfriend before I met her I had stopped making advances despite my feelings. I remember thinking that he must have been one hell of a man because he had the best girl in New York City. Now I knew that she deserved so much better. She deserved not to be hurt like this. I motioned for her to sit down next to me. She quietly walked over and sat up straight. It broke my heart to see her this tense around me.

“Your staying here.” I said with a neutral voice trying not to get emotional and show that I was serious. Her head snapped up and her eyes met mine.

“What?” she questioned slightly shaking.

“I am not letting you go back and be hurt by him. You’re moving in to the guest room and you’re going to be happy because so help me god if I ever have to see you like this again I might commit murder.” I said my voice straining towards the end. Her eyes widened but soon they watered and her lip quivered as she shook her head in acceptance. I immediately turned to jelly from the immense relief overcoming me and grabbed her arm to pull her to me. I laid back and she came with me having her head rest on my chest.

“Only because I love you.” She whispered as I reached for the remote. I tensed for a split second before looking over at her with wide eyes. She seemed nervous but too exhausted to care as she gave me a sheepish smile and looked at me with her eyes lazily half lidded. I immediately acted on instinct and grabbed her arm hoisting her up slightly higher and firmly pressed my lips against hers. She responded and threaded her hands into my hair. We pulled back with a huff and stared at each other minute before I push her head into the juncture between my neck and shoulder. I cradled her with a arm around her waist and the other hand stroking her hair. I took a deep breath.

“Rest darling. I love you too but you are exhausted and you are going to have a hard day tomorrow too with getting your stuff and telling him.” I felt her shake and immediately gripped her tighter. “But I will be there with you baby I promise nothing will hurt you alright?” She relaxed back into my arm and gave a tiny nod into my neck.

“I won’t need to be scared if you’re there.” I heard her whisper, almost to herself. I felt a small amount of pride fill me at her words.

“I am going to put on a movie and cook some food later alright?”

“Sounds perfect.”

“It doesn’t just sound perfect. I intend to make sure it is perfect darling.”

She glanced at me with a smile on her face and I no longer felt helpless.

Where Senility Ends

Summary: Logan cares for Charles in the silo. Did I already write this setting? Too bad, have another one. I don’t even know if it’s heartbreaking or just worn out anymore.

WARNING: a rather graphic quote from x-men is used, regarding Auschwitz. It’s marked with a (5), and is that entire paragraph. It can be skipped

Logan walked into the fallen silo and slammed the door closed, making sure Charles wouldn’t be startled by his sudden appearance. It had taken him several months to realize the professor wasn’t always home anymore, and the times when he wasn’t were coming more and more frequently. Especially as Logan found the necessary medicines harder and harder to come by. It wasn’t that Chuck was becoming senile. He would just lose himself in his powers more often.

It hadn’t been so bad when Magneto had been around to help draw out the younger man. Logan had always admired Erik for his ability to remind Charles of just who and where he was. But the first of the seizures had taken that option out of the equation rather soundly.

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Drunken Dreams

JILY CHALLENGE | @aly-cat-scat vs. @thecupcakeconsumer 

Muggle College AU: “You’re drunk and walked into the wrong apartment and fell asleep on my couch oh god you’re going to be so confused in the morning.”

In the door to the kitchen stood a willowy girl with ginger hair and green eyes. She was wearing an old t-shirt and leggings—both too small to be worn as anything other than pyjamas. On the long, fabric couch that took up most of the kitchen lay a lanky boy with a bird’s nest of black hair and square glasses that were pressed awkwardly against the cushion. The girl was Lily Evans, one of the students who shared the flat. The boy was of as yet undetermined identity.

Lily wasn’t entirely sure how the boy had managed to get into her flat, but the fact remained that he had managed somehow because he was passed out and snoring over the hideous cushions that Marlene’s mother had bought as an Easter gift.

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The Joker x Reader- “The Black Plague”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

“Cake?” the squeaky tone excitedly inquires.

“Yes, kiddo, your favorite.”

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

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


“Wanna see daddy?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You sniffle and Emma kisses his temple, upset.

“Daddy’s cold.”

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He glares in your direction, burning holes through you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You stomp towards them, antagonized.

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

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

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

J ignores you, continuing to gaze at his.

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

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

“Can you tell her to leave, please?”

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

The woman is very confused and you interrupt:

“So what are we having?”

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

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

“We are.”

“It’s very awkward,” she complains.

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

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

“If you don’t like it, disappear!”

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

“I’m pregnant.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, Y/N, did you eat already?!”

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

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

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

How intriguing.

Click again and…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

You snatch her from him, frowning.

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

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

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

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

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

You decide to make your presence known.

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

The Joker growls, full of spite.

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

You lift your shoulders up, grouchy and resentful.

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

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


But fighting him is pointless.

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


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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

The singing gets louder and you have to underline:

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

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


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

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

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

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

She softly laughs, kissing your hand.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mom, come on, don’t get upset.”

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

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

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

Emma places you back to bed, tucking you in.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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