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musette-thornsong · 2 months

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OJ: Bride of Thrax – Domestic Dispute, Pt. I

Hey, it’s been a while but I’m finally finishing what I started. Ozzy and Leah are having doubts about their elopement with all the crazy murders surrounding them. So much so, they believe one or the other is the killer. But when an unfortunate accident occurs, the truth is revealed before them as Thrax and Aura take matters into their own hands. However, the demon couple will have their own trials to face compared to the cell couple.

Warning: Explicit Language/Violence

Aurie Zurie belongs to me

Ozzy and Leah were at their wits end with all the murders and jumped to conclusions that on or the other is the culprit. So much so that each separately called Drix on advice on what to do about the situation. He shows up at the hotel the next morning and hitches a ride in the van to talk things out. Drix insists that both of them are innocent and wrong about the whole situation until he starts to get a whiff of something strange in the back of the van.

Drix: The thing that struck me was how sure you both sounded. And to me, that meant one of three things: One of you is lying, both of you are crazy, or both of you are wrong. Add to that the fact that I know you both better than anyone else, and I’ve never seen either of you so much as hurt a fly, and I’ve concluded that what we have here is a terrible misunderstanding.

Ozzy: (looks to Leah, puzzled)

Leah: (looks to Ozzy, puzzled)

Drix: (gets a whiff of something rather foul) Do you two smell something rather odd in here?

Thrax & Aura: (discreetly look to each other worried)

Ozzy: Okay, for the sake of argument, if it wasn’t you and it wasn’t me, then who else would wanna kill Phlegmming and that crooked bodyguard of his?

Leah: (adds on) And those people from last night.

Drix: (corrects them) You’re assuming Phlegmming’s dead. He’s only missing.

Leah: (concludes) You’re suggesting that Phlegmming…

Drix: (concurs) Yes! Why not? The man is power-hungry and will go to whatever lengths to get what he wants. I’d probably buy him as a psychopath before either of you two (gets a whiff of the foul odor once again, looking around in curiosity) My word! Something is really quite odorous in here.

Leah: I told you not to leave your dirty drawers back there.

Ozzy: (smiles Leah lovingly in relief)

Drix: I must suggest, Ms. Estrogen, this is not the rancorous smell of someone’s unmentionables (sniffs around further)

Drix kept sniffing around trying to place the order until he notics a small puddle of cytoplasm at the base of the trunk seat. Suspicious, Drix hovers down to move the Thrax & Aura dolls out of the way before lifting the latch. The moment he lifted up the seat, the sight before him left him in shock. Within the seat was Phlegmming’s nail-pierced face and blood-soaked corpse. The horror of it all leaves him in utter disbelief but comes to the immediate conclusion of their guilt.

Ozzy: (openly admittedly) I feel like such an idiot.

Leah: (reciprocates) Me too.

Ozzy: I mean, I can’t believe I thought that you could kill someone.

Leah: (apologizes) I know. I’m so sorry.

Drix: (notices an ice grenade that Phlegmming had previously swiped from him before secretly placing it in his arm cannon)

Ozzy: Drix, what would w do without you?

Drix: (jumps immediately at the odd question before suddenly closing the seat shut to remain inconspicuous, slightly panicking)

Leah: (smiles at him happily)

Ozzy: (gives him a respectful nod)

Drix: (worried) What do you mean “Without me”?

Ozzy: I mean you set us straight, buddy. We owe ya one.

Leah: You’re a good friend. The best (moves to the back to give Drix a hug)

Drix: (whips out his armed cannon in a panic) Pull over!

Ozzy: (looks back to see the sight behind him)

Drix: (demands at Ozzy) Pull over now!

Ozzy: (pulls the van over, before climbing to the back to calm Drix down unsure of his sudden behavior) Drix, come on, buddy, it’s me. Come on, let’s talk this over.

Drix: I’m not your buddy.

Ozzy: FUCK, DRIX!! PLEASE JUST PUT THE CANNON DOWN!!

Drix: (freaking out, charges the lever ready to shoot) Why? So you can kill mee too?

Leah: WAIT! WAIT! WE DIDN’T KILL ANYBODY!!

Drix: (still keeps them at bay) Oh, you’re good. You’re good! You even had me fooled.

Leah: (confused) What are you talking about?

Drix: THIS!! (lifts up the seat showing them Phlegmming’s corpse, disgusted)

Ozzy & Leah: (gasps in horrific shock with Leah ready to vomit)

Thrax & Aura: (look to each other realizing the jig was up)

Leah: (turns to Ozzy in disbelief) You son of a bitch!

Ozzy: (defensively points at Leah) DRIX, I DIDN’T DO IT! SHE DID IT!

Leah: (defends herself) DRIX, I WOULD NEVER…

Drix: (shouts) SHUT UP! SHUT UP!!

Drix keeps the cannon on them and backs out of the van before he notices a passing police car and begins hailing it over when they see his weapon. Drix turns back only to find two unexpected figures in front of him with guns.

Drix: (calls out to the police) HEY, HELP! OVER HERE!!

Thrax & Aura: (point their guns directly at Drix)

Thrax: NOBODY MOVE!!!

Ozzy & Leah: (shocked to see a familiar face)

Leah: OH MY GOD!!!

Ozzy: (stares in terror of his old enemy)

Thrax: (smiles sinisterly) Hey Jones, long time no see.

Drix: (shocked to see Thrax too as well as a former teammate in her current state)

Drix backed away from the van slowly not noticing the oncoming truck heading right at him. Having forgotten his cannon was charged as he turned to move out of the way too late, the truck smashed right into Drix blowing up the front of the truck and himself in an icy explosion upon impact. The collision causes a pileup on the road as the cops were closing in.

Ozzy: (screams for his friend) DRIX!!!

Leah: (screams in horror) NOOOO!!!

Thrax: (shrugs to Aura) That works too.

Aura: (shouts) GET THIS HEAP OF SHIT MOVING!!! NOW! NOW! NOW!

Ozzy gets the van going as Leah closes the back-end doors before speeding off. Leah looks out the back window at the truck only to see icy blue remains of her good friend splattered all over the grill. She begins to weep at the loss feeling helpless. The cops got in closer before Thrax forces her to open the doors at gunpoint then shoots out the patrol car’s wheels while laughing maniacally. The cops veer off the side of the road as Leah closes the doors back in. Ozzy sped the van even further making sure they got far enough away just as they were entering New Jersey.

Thrax: (breaks the ice while keeping the hostages at gunpoint, smirking) I imagine at this point you two must have a lot of questions. You remember me, of course, right Jones?

Ozzy: How could I not? I remember the face of anyone who tried to kill me

Thrax: (chuckles reminiscently, gestures) And I’m sure you recognize an old partner of yours, donthca’?

Aura: (reassures, keeping her gun up) Oh, I’m sure he’d never forget me after the way the force dogged me out at the station as I was unjustly tried and fired. Isn’t that right, Jonesy?

Ozzy: (shocked to find his old friend and neighbor as a demon) So, how did you end up like this?

Leah: (looks on in disbelief and shock too)

Thrax: Well, it’s a long story.

Aura: (agrees) It sure is.

Thrax: In fact, if it was a movie, it would take three or four sequels just to do it justice.

Leah: What are you gonna do with us?

Thrax: Funny you should ask.

Aura: (explains) These bodies are okay. But they’re like apartments that we’re just renting. But now we’re movin’ on up.

Thrax: Like George & Weezie.

Aura: And we’re lookin’ to buy

Thrax: And you know what they say about real estate. Location, location, location. Well, you guys are definitely in the right place at the wrong time.

Thrax & Aura: (cackle menacing with glee)

Ozzy: (overhears the radio broadcast and turns up the volume when their names are mentioned)

Radio: *This is a CNN (Cerebral Neural Network) special report. The Jones & Estrogen case keeps getting weirder and weirder. Fingerprints discovered at two separate crime scenes have been identified as belonging to Thrax a.k.a. the Red Death, the notorious serial killer gunned down in 2001. Now police confirm that Thrax’s corpse will be exhumed from a Hackensack, New Jersey cemetery sometime today*

Thrax: (worried) What?!

Aura: (panics) Thrax, the Heart of Damballa!!

Ozzy & Leah: (freaking out silently towards the news)

Thrax: (grunts) I know!

Aura: What’ll we do? What’ll we do?

Thrax: Shut up! Just let me think, a’ight? First, we gotta get some new wheels. Every cop within 500 miles is looking for this van. We something inconspicuous, but with a little style.

They manage to find an RV and commandeer but only after shooting the elderly owners point-blank in the heads. Thrax keeps an eye on Ozzy at the wheel from the front passenger seat as they entered the city of Hackensack. Aura keeps Leah tied up in the back as she cooks dinner while having a smoke and dolls up Leah for the upcoming ritual.

Aura: (smoking, tries to apply makeup to Leah’s face) Hold still, honey, or I’m gonna poke ya’ in the eye again.

Leah: (resists fervently while struggling against her binds)

Aura: (looks her down and up) Yes. I believe I’m going to look absolutely ravishing.

She hears the oven timer go off signaling her cookies were ready. She heads to the closet to fetch an apron where the elderly cell couples’ corpses with shoved in. She carefully removees the tray and brings the cookies up to the front for her husband.

Aura: Oops, scuse’ me (grabs the apron and close the door, then brings cookies to Thrax)

Ozzy: (keeps an eye out waiting for an opening he could exploit)

Thrax: (finishes his spicy Swedish meatballs just Aura approaches) Nobody makes Carne Asada-styled Swedish meatballs like you, baby. Peachy!

Aura: Thanks, honeybun. I hope you left room for dessert (offers Thrax chocolate chip & peanut butter cookies)

Thrax: You know it, Sweet Cheeks (grabs a few cookies before kissing Aura lovingly on the cheek)

Ozzy: (weirded out with the overly lovey-dovey display)

Thrax: (takes a bite of a cookie, then turns to Ozzy) Ya’ know, Jones, if I had known that marriage was such a great gig, I would’ve never waited this long to tie the knot.

Ozzy: (spots the dirty dishes through the rearview mirror) On the other hand, she’s not much of a housekeeper, is she?

Thrax: (skeptical but saw that Jones had a point, turns to Aura) Hey, Aura, baby?

Aura: (looks up) Huh?

Thrax: Those dishes aren’t gonna wash themselves ya’ know.

Aura: (glares daggers at Thrax, insulted)

Leah: (curious as to what Ozzy was trying to pull, but catches on immediately and plays along) You were nice enough to cook for him. The least he could do is wash the dish

Aura: Uugh… (seeing how Leah made a fascinating point picks up a dirty dish and angrily throws it at Thrax as it smashes on the back of his seat)

Thrax: (surprised at her behavior) What are you doing?!

Aura: (angrily throws another dish at him) Raaaagh!!

Thrax: (dodges the other barely before confronting her) What would Martha Stewart say?

Aura: (shouts in a fed-up tone) FUCK, MARTHA STEWART!!!

Thrax: (taken aback by her response)

Aura: (goes on) MARTHA STEWART CAN KISS MY SHINY DEMON RED BUTT!!! Here I am slaving away over a hot stove, making cookies, making spicy Swedish meatballs, and for WHAT!? FOR A MAN WHO DOESN’T APPRECIATE ME!! FOR A MAN WHO CAN’T EVEN WASH ONE FUCKING DISH!! FOR A MAN WHO ISN’T EVEN A MAN AT ALL WHER IT COUNTS IF YOU GET MY DRIFT!! (looks to Leah) Take it from me, honey. Sex dolls is no substitute than for a nice hunk of wood.

Thrax: (shocked and angered that she insulted his manhood, looking to Ozzy) I didn’t hear her complaining last night. (looks back to Aura) Any guy would need a hunk of plastic, probably battery-operated, to get a reaction out of you in bed.

Ozzy: (notices the road sign to the Forest Hills Cemetery at the next right)

Thrax: And by the way, WHERE TH HELL DID YOU LEARN TO BAKE!? (tosses the cookies at Aura)

Aura: (offended) How dare you speak to me that way!

Thrax: You started it!

Aura: I did not!

Leah: (takes action kicking Aura into the oven kicking the hatch shut)

Thrax: NOOO!!! (shoots at Leah)

Ozzy: (sends Thrax flying in one punch out the passenger window)

Thrax: (shoots at Ozzy)

Ozzy turned the RV hard to the right to dodge the bullet. Unfortunately, this causes the RV roll off the road and sent everything tumbling with Leah still tied up and under the debris. Down the hill they went until the RV came to a complete stop. Everything inside was in shambles, gas fluid was leaking from the pipes, and several electrical cables were lashing around. Leah manages to wake up with a slight headwound only to see Ozzy knocked out at the wheel.

Leah: (sees the sparking cables, panicking) Ozzy? Osmosis, please. Please. Oh, God. (struggles to get loose) Osmosis!! (hears a sudden metal squeaking noise before slowly looking over her shoulder towards the oven, starts getting hysterical remembering the demoness was still in there)

Aura: (burst onto the oven window in a charred-up state, screaming vicious agony) AAAAAAAGHH!!! AAAAAAAAAGHH!!

Leah: (screams in terror) AAAAAAGH!! GET ME OUT OF HERE!!

Ozzy: (coughs coming out of his unconscious mode)

Leah: (looks back for Aura again only to see her gone)

Aura: (bursts out of the oven seconds later, attacking Leah) YOU BITCH!!! (bites the concave of Leah’s ear)

Leah: (screams in searing pain)

Ozzy: (rushes to her aid grabbing Aura by the hair and tossing her aside, before attempting to free Leah)

Leah: (sees the gas fluid getting closer and sparking cables as well, rushes Ozzy) HURRY!!

Ozzy: (struggles to undo the ropes before checking the sink, finds a knife and cuts the ropes just in time to grab the cables and kick the door open)

Leah: (gets up rushing to Ozzy, trying to jump out with him) No!!

Ozzy: GO, GO, GO!!

Leah: (pleads for him to jump with her) NOT WITHOUT YOU!!

Ozzy: (insists) I’LL BE RIGHT BEHIND YOU!!! (shoves Leah out the door as he notices the gas fluid running past his suedes)

Leah: (barely makes it as she stands up not noticing the shadow behind her)

Thrax: (points the gun to her, coyly) Hey, beautiful.

Leah: (screams frightened)

Ozzy tosses the cable behind him before diving out the RV as the cable collides with the gas setting everything on fire. Ozzy made out just as the RV exploded in a huge fiery blaze. Not to far was Aura in a burned and bloodied condition as she crawled towards her gun.

Aura: (struggles to reach for her gun, groaning in catastrophic pain)

Ozzy: (steps on her arm before grabbing the gun)

Aura: (cries out weakly) Aaaaack!!

Ozzy: (pulls back the slide ready to shoot before noticing Leah running off Thrax in her arms with his gun at her heart) LEAH!!!

Thrax: (barks) Move it!

Leah: (continues heading towards the cemetery)

Ozzy: (grabs Aura by the hair, chasing after them)

Aura: (weakly cries out from being flung around life a rag doll)

Ozzy raced after Thrax and Leah with Aura’s charred body in tow. He had almost lost Leah once and he was not intending on losing her for real this time. He would get his true love back at any cost. But will this prove more of a challenge than he can handle? And will become of the demon couple at odds?

To be continued…

#osmosis jones #osmosis jones thrax #ozzy x leah #ozzy x thrax #ozzy x drix

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diyunho · 4 years

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The Joker x Reader - “Trapped” Part 5

Almost one year ago, someone tried to kill The Joker in a speeding car and Y/N pushed him out of the way, getting hit instead. With a fractured skull and broken bones, she was out of business for 6 months; when she finally recovered, The Queen of Gotham wasn’t the same anymore. Trapped inside her own mind and exhibiting severe cognitive impairment, Y/N’s life switched upside down without any hope of ever returning to normal.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

4 Months Pregnant

“I need customized stickers that say Baby On Board for my purple Lamborghini and the other cars I drive,” The Joker growls at his own idea whilst sharing it with the person fulfilling his wacko trades: Franco Rossi, the leader of best underground supply chain in Gotham.

“When would you like them ready Mister J? After Y/N gives birth?”

“Nope! Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?...” Franco hesitantly inquiries about the sudden emergency since he can’t understand why The King of Gotham demands them so fast.

The Joker hates explaining yet certain people are obtuse thus they necessitate enlightenment.

“Y/N’s pregnant: when she gets in a car, the baby is also. Baby on board! Hello??” the father-to-be loses his temper.

Who can argue with The Joker’s logic? Nobody. It sort of makes sense anyway.

“Of course, Mister J. I’ll have them ready. If you drop by after 6pm, I’ll have your guns ready too.”

“Perfect!” the Joker hangs up among the ruckus coming from the office near the kitchen: sounds of shattered objects and yelling alert Richard aka Panda you’re at it again. He nonchalantly passes by in order to deliver the items to The Clown.

“Your drinks Mister J,” he gives one cup with Starbucks caramel latte to his boss and the other is placed on the table. Why does your boyfriend require 2 identical containers? It won’t take long to solve the mystery.

“Are the lids glued?”

Strange question but there’s a purpose in it.

“Yes sir. How is she doing?”

“She’s hormonal: breaking things makes her feel better which reminds me we have to hoard porcelain objects for her to wreck. NO glass!”

“Sure, I’ll tell the crew,” Richard leaves the kitchen while texting Frost. “Hulk needs more to smash,” he types the code name they gave you in the last weeks although The King knows about it: J’s the one that came up with it.

“Hey Pumpkin,” you are greeted as soon as you pop up from the office. “How’d it go?” he scrolls down on his phone and takes a sip of hot liquid.

“Ugghh!” a frustrated Y/N swings the yellow teddy bear The Joker stole for her on their first date, hitting his hand in the process. The drink flies near the fridge and splatters on the floor with minimal damage: only a tiny puddle instead of a disaster, that’s why the lids are glued.

Safety measure for The Queen’s unpredictability.

J grabs his reserve cup of coffee, paying attention now hence he dodges your renewed attack and keeps his coffee intact.

That’s why his drinks have the lids glued, in case you catch him off guard the second time it will result in negligible destruction.

It happened before.

“I don’t think so Princess,” The Joker strong grip on the container calms you a bit because you won’t be able to win this round. “Are you hungry?”

“No,” you pout and sit in his lap.

“I bet the baby is,” the secret weapon is unleashed: J discovered such a gem by accident and it works like a charm. How can Y/N say “no” if the baby is involved? She can’t.

A plate filled with a bunch of your favorite breakfast food is placed in front of you and strangely enough you’re instantly hungry.

“Extra bacon,” he purrs. “Plus chocolate dip and honey mustard for your pickled cherries. I added peanut butter olives as a bonus.”

In your defense, you’ve been having weird cravings lately.

You place the toy on the chair nearby and start eating, ogling a Joker texting back and forth with his business partners. He chews the morsel you just offered and shivers: waffle dipped in clam juice is disgusting. Maybe he should look at the food you shove in his mouth.

“Gross,” J washes the terrible taste with coffee and gets a kiss for encouragement, yet he’s aware of the connotations. Another kiss confirms it.

Let’s put it this way: besides the hormonal episodes and food demands, The Queen has had a fresh type of craving recently - The Joker kind.

More than usually.

That’s why he has to clear it up.

“I’m flattered for being the center of attention; we gotta keep in mind that contrary to the popular belief, I don’t have unlimited stamina, Pumpkin.”

You nod in agreement and unbutton his pants, then unzip them also.

“Y/N, pay attention!” J insists since you don’t give a damn about his woes. “Think about it as a two way street: The Joker Street and I Want To Break Things Street. Are you with me so far?” he double checks.

Why is he yapping so much??! I guess you should make an effort to comprehend: he’s even doodling patterns on his phone to emphasize the speech.

“When you get hormonal, Princess, let’s try and walk on the I Want To Break Things Street instead of The Joker Street, hm? The Joker Street is sometimes closed for repairs until further announcement.”

OK, OK, this is a lecture. Something about a Joker Street, he seems upset he doesn’t have one…?... Right?...

If you were him, you would be pissed Gotham didn’t name a street in your honor when you’re so important for the town.

Another peck on his neck, then your lips go down his collar bone.

“You’re not paying attention, are you?” J mutters when it’s clear his shirt won’t remain on his body for too long.

“I am,” you defend yourself.

“Oh yeah? What did I say then?”

“Ummm…” you try to piece together words among estrogen taking over. “No Joker Street?...”

“Bingo, that’s it Princess! No Joker Street, correct! Choose the other street, yes?”

This time he kisses you, excited his idea was well received when in fact, both parties are referring to unrelated concepts.

“Wait,” J dodges your touch, “Richard is calling.”

Because he’s on the phone ignoring Y/N, she is ensuring a nice surprise for later; concentrating to the maximum to avoid misspelling, the following message is sent to Franco Rossi from her cell:

“Make a landmark sign that says Joker Street.”

The King’s conversation is prolonged more than anticipated until he discerns you’re not wiggling: you feel asleep, softly snoring on his shoulder and he definitely can’t afford to wake you up.

The doctors said your body is trying to cope with the pregnancy the best way it can: if you doze off at random hours it means you ran out of fuel and you should rest. After cheating death and surviving the accident, the future mother is at high risk of serious complications which is why each day could lead to unforeseen problems.

The Joker rises from the chair holding you in his arms and after a few steps he realizes it’s difficult to walk: thanks to his unbuttoned and unzipped pants, they keep sliding lower and lower. There’s no way he will make it upstairs so maybe the sofa in the living room is the best option. He almost trips thus he begins to drag his feet on the carpet, the pants at knee level now.

“I’m reduced to a piece of meat,” J grumbles, finally making it to the couch and placing Y/N on it so she can have her power nap.

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

6:02pm

You accompanied The King to a meeting with Seraphim, the best hacker/strategist J uses: they’ve been plotting for a while concerning D.A. Kevin Winchester. The politician is becoming a huge pain in the butt for Gotham’s underworld and something must be done; either annihilation or blackmail, it truly doesn’t matter since he’s bad for business. Due to a total lack of interest in the subject, you are exploring the surroundings quite angry The Joker dragged you here.

Luckily there’s stuff to do.

Bam! you punch the fragile glass sculpture and it splinters into a million pieces on the lavish marble floor.

Seraphim jumps at the noise, immediately recognizing his beloved possession:

“That’s…,” he gulps, appalled. “That’s a Vitriol!”

Yup, the one and only Degas Vitriol, the latest sensation taking the art universe by storm.

“She’s hormonal,” J sneers. “She breaks shit!”

“That’s valued at 150,000 dollars!” the hacker breaths in much needed oxygen regarding the atrocity unfolding at his hideout.

“So??!!” your boyfriend sucks on his teeth, irritated. “Serves you right for buying that asshole’s artsy fartsy crap!”

The Joker actually has 4 Vitriol masterpieces at the mansion yet you were strictly forbidden to destroy them, alas he gave you the office for your rampages.

You continue your exploration as they talk about God knows what until you perceive an alarming detail: Seraphim is literally screaming having a gun pointed at J.

You sneak behind him then in a split second you strike the pistol out of his hand and your fist lands on his temple with such brutality it knocks him out unconscious.

“What the hell are you doing, Y/N???” The Clown hisses at your erratic behavior.

“Hm?”

“What are you doing??!!!” he repeats, annoyed.

“S-saving you…,” you stutter, confused on why J is mad. “He was yelling and…mmm, had a gun,” you wince in pain because your knuckles hurt from the impact.

“The guy’s half deaf and sometimes he raises his voice without noticing, or did you forget??!! Now I have to wait until he comes to his senses and that’s a waste of my time, Y/N!!! Seraphim wasn’t threatening me, he was showing me his newest collectible!!! I suppose someone with half a brain can’t acknowledge the mess they’ve created!!!”

A lot of accusations thrown your way still… the last sentence brings tears in your eyes.

“I…” you bite your lower lip. “…I don’t have half of brain…”

“Wanna bet??” The Joker bites more instead of leveling with your logic: you though he was in danger and took action. If it was a real emergency, yes, you would have been the hero; it’s not and apparently he can’t appreciate your fast intervention in these circumstances.

“Y-you’re stupid…” you whisper, frustrated. “You don’t understand anything…”

Here it is -- the cataclysmic event of the century: someone called The Joker stupid. He’s beyond outraged with nothing better to utter besides a very childish:

“You’re stupid!”

Y/N turns around and stomps out of the house leaving a trail of destruction outside: she slaps the bottled water out of The Shark’s hand, kicks Panda’s shin and snatches Frost’s donut basically inhaling the sweet treat.

“I want to go h-home!!” you shout and enter the first vehicle you see, slamming the door so hard the window on the passenger side cracks.

“Jesus…” Jonny mumbles and being the sensible man that he is you are offered the whole box of pastries he purchased for his family. He can acquire more, but there’s no way in hell he wants to endure Y/N in the state she’s in.

Gotta keep Hulk calm somehow…

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

3 Hours Afterwards

You sulk when The Joker strolls in the master bathroom frantically searching the cabinets.

“Did you see my shaver?” he asks.

“Hm?”

“Did you see my shaver?”

“I…I wouldn’t know. I only have half a brain,” the surprisingly eloquent phrase queues J his woman is holding a grudge for his earlier statement. Why wouldn’t she? He was a complete jerk.

At least you didn’t catch on to the obvious: The King of Gotham doesn’t own a shaver; hair just grows on his head.

He glimpses at Y/N soaking in the bathtub with a kid’s book in her left hand and the right hand fingers sunk into a bowl filled with ice placed at the edge of the Jacuzzi. The Joker leans over and switches your book since it’s upside down.

You huff at the unwanted help and stare at the pictures expecting he’ll look for his shaver and disappear.

You’re not that fortunate today.

“Imagine my surprise when I drove the main alley and detected a sign that says The Joker Street,” he brings up the topic.

Franco Rossi was super-efficient …sadly you ordered the item before J ran his mouth at the hacker’s place, otherwise you wouldn’t care he wants a street with his name.

“You said no… no Joker Street,” you stammer. “Now you have one,” the bitter tone makes him roll his eyes: Y/N’s brain got what it could from his monologue, he should have known better than to make it complicated.

“Excellent…” The King starts rubbing your tummy, “… precisely what I was aiming for. I’m washing the baby, not you!” he underlines when you move farther from him.

You scrunch your face displeased but let him do it because it’s for the baby.

“I know what you’re doing,” Y/N gives him a cold gaze. “U-using the baby… I’m not stupid!”

Busted, The Joker thinks. The schemer in him won’t accept defeat though.

“I didn’t say you were.”

“Yes you did!”

“You said it first!!!” he reckons, antagonized. “Therefore two stupid people put together gotta make up for a smart one!!’

“I… I don’t wanna make out…” you frown at his suggestion.

The Joker sighs, deciding not to correct the trajectory of your judgement; it sure sounds like an opportunity.

“Why not?”

“I’m tired and…and I h-hate you,” your heavy eyelids close.

“Both viable reasons, even if I have to admit you striking Seraphim like that got me quite worked up. He’s no small fry! I had to wait for one hour for him to recover; you got a mean punch, woman! The more I reflect on it, the hornier I get. Which reminds me, Pumpkin: guess what?... … … I’m hormonal too.”

No answer, Pumpkin’s out.

“Of course nobody gives a damn if I’m hormonal!” he complaints while grabbing you from the bathtub. You cling to him for a few moments prior to drifting back into your dreams.

“Thanks for getting me all wet,” J snarls at the cruel reality of having his favorite Prada suit ruined.

“You…you’re welcome…” his Queen replies in her sleep, somehow her mind clutching to reality amidst pure relaxation.

This is what two hormonal individuals are reduced to: one’s dozing off, the other is suffering in silence, although being the proud owner of the tiniest road in Gotham compensates for the mishap.

It’s a two way street.

Also read: Masterlist

You can also follow me on Ao3 and Wattpad under the same blog name: DiYunho.

#the joker x reader #the joker imagine #the joker fanfiction #the joker jared leto #the joker suicide squad #the joker #joker #joker x reader #joker leto #joker imagine #joker suicide squad #joker jared leto #mister j #mr. j #dc #dcu

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highqueenofelfhame · 5 years

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All I Ask Of You - 15

I can’t see the end of this just wanna feel your kiss Against my lips and now all this time Is passing by, but I still can't seem to tell you why It hurts me every time I see you Realize how much I need you I hate u, i love u - gnash

“She’s not his...girlfriend,” Fenrys said, leaning in the doorway of Aelin’s private quarters. She insisted she didn’t need them, but Lorcan said he didn’t feel like seeing her walk around in a towel. Eyes had rolled, and Aelin had trudged to the room and thrown herself onto her bed.

Aelin looked up from where she sat, lacing up her boots and making sure her pants were tucked down into them. It was her first day assisting with training, and if she didn’t look like a hardass, the men wouldn’t take her seriously. A huge mistake on their part, but it tended to happen anyway.

“I don’t care,” she said flatly, standing up and tucking her white t-shirt into her pants.

“Aelin–”

“You should have told me! Like, what the fuck! Any of you could have told me. Any single one of you and you opted not to. And you evidently didn’t even tell Rowan I was flying in because he looked just about as surprised to see me as I was to see him with some girl hanging on his arm. You are my best friend. And that was shitty of you and I’m not going to lie, Fenrys, I’m really pissed about it.” She turned, shaking her head as she pulled her hair into a bun at the base of her skull.

“I’m sorry. I just– Fuck I didn’t want to hurt you. We don’t even know who she is to him, he doesn’t talk about her or anything.”

“And this was better? Jesus. That’s bullshit and you know it.” Another shrug of her shoulders and she pushed passed him and making her way outside, taking a large gulp of air.

It was more humid here than it was in Terrasen, the heat so different from the cold of the mountains and snow. Even their summers and springs were mild and beautiful. It was just hot and humid in Doranelle but still beautiful.

She ignored the recruits and officers as she walked through, rolling her eyes when a few of them whistled at her. It was gross. Being around so much testosterone and not enough estrogen made the male brain so, so disgusting.

For whatever reason, there weren’t many women in the military in Doranelle. There were no women on their special ops teams, which left Aelin with only male company. It made sense that there were no women. Aelin was the only one in Terrasen’s history to make it into special ops, much less be running with the most powerful special ops team probably ever. And she was damn proud of that fact.

She walked across the campus, rubbing her palms into her eyes while she contemplated how her relationship with Rowan ended up so messy. It didn’t make sense. They had been made for each other, and everyone had agreed. Aelin even liked to think about how much her parents and Sam would have loved Rowan, how they would have approved of him. And then he cheated and got distant, and quit trying. He quit doing little things for her, he quit surprising her on long weekends. Their sex life had dwindled down when they had always been on each other before. They had been so passionate, so in love with each other that being with other people had never even computed for her. And now he was sleeping with someone else, and she found herself pausing to take a deep breath, face turned up to the sun.

“Aelin!”

Of course. Of fucking course. Her jaw clenched and she kept walking, pushing the way her name sounded on his lips from her mind. The closer she got to the pool, the quicker she tried to walk until he was right behind her with his fingers grazing her elbow.

“What do you want! Gods above, Rowan, what the fuck do you want?” Her hands were thrown out to the side, a hollow laugh climbing out of her throat.

“Just– I’m–” he trailed off, running his hands through his hair.

“I can’t look weak here. I am the only woman on this entire base, and I cannot look weak here. And you?” Her voice cracked and she shook her head, teeth running over her bottom lip. “You make me weak. I can’t focus when you’re around. And I hate it. And I hate you. And I just– I need you to please leave me alone. If you ever cared about me, you’d leave me alone. It’s fine that you’re over me I don’t–” She shook her head and wiped at her eyes.

“Fireheart, please,” he reached up to brush his fingers across her cheek and she jerked back.

“Please don’t touch me. Don’t call me that. I’m not doing this. I’m not a toy for you to play with. I’m the girl that was ready to die so that you’d be safe and you walked away. So just–” She shook her head and turned, jogging the rest of the way to the pool.

~*~

She was screaming. Blood curdling screams that vibrated through her entire body, screams that made her throat raw as they clawed their way up and out of her throat, their dagger sharp nails ripping her body to pieces. Not only was she screaming, but thrashing: her arms falling into muscle memory of combat. But it was nothing compared to the way she kept screaming ‘no’ over and over. Her voice would crack, terror gripping through her entire being. Every single cell was fighting an imaginary threat–

“Aelin! Aelin, love. Wake up. Wake up it’s just–” Rowan didn’t have time to finish his sentence because she was slamming her hands against his chest, obviously trying to take blows to her face. When he caught her wrists, careful to be gently, she screamed louder. The entire metal bed rattled. “Aelin!”

She gasped, struggling against the grip he had on her hands as she tried to twist out of his grip.

“It’s me. It’s just me. Look at me,” and then she wasn’t struggling anymore but blinking at him; her face completely crumpled.

“Rowan,” she rasped, a sob ripping through her body, her throat. Aelin leaned forward to rest her forehead against his bare shoulder. “Rowan,” she said through another sob.

“I’ve got you. You’re okay. You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

His hands slid up and down her back, his mouth pressing soft kisses to the top of her head while murmuring sweet nothings: that she was okay, that he was there, that it was just a nightmare. Surely he could feel her heart thundering in her chest, so close to exploding out of her body like a time bomb.

Aelin grabbed one of his hands and pulled it into her lap, toying with his fingers while he told her to breathe. He was taking the same breaths as her to guide her through breathing until she calmed down enough. Part of her wanted to allow him to continue. The other part wanted him to never touch her again.

The fact that he always knew how to calm her down, that he knew what steps to take to bring her down from a panic wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that despite everything he’d done she just wanted him to stay with her, rocking her to sleep until her breathing evened out and she fell into a dream state. Not that she would be able to fall asleep tonight. The nightmares got worse every day. The entire six months she’d been in Orynth she’d been required to see a therapist, to talk about her feelings and mixed emotions. Truly, it had helped her sort out everything, she stopped having panic attacks during the day. The nightmares, however, never stopped.

She was still shaking, unable to will her body to stop. When Rowan stood, she looked at him with her eyes wide in panic.

“I’m not leaving, love,” he said softly, sitting back down with his back against the wall.

He grabbed her hand and tugged gently until she crawled onto his lap, her face pressing against his neck. Rowan’s scent was so familiar. He smelled like pine and snow and it had always reminded her of home.

Reminded her that he was home, too.

Except that he wasn’t. Except that the same hands that were brushing her hair from her neck had been on someone else’s body. Rowan had been inside someone else, and she didn’t even want to think about if it sated him, if he was pleased, if he was emotionally attached to her. It hurt too much.

Still, she took a deep breath and traced her fingers up and down his side. Rowan was so warm and she was able to count the lines of his abdomen. His body had always been perfect from the first time he’d met her at her basic training. Perfectly chiseled, perfectly beautiful, perfectly tanned.

With her heart beating at a normal pace, she lifted her head and rubbed her eyes. When she pulled her palms away they were soaked with tears. She could only imagine how splotchy and swollen her face was. The sigh that escaped her body was heavy. So, so heavy.

His fingers tilted her chin back and he was searching her eyes despite her not looking at him. “Look at me.” Like an idiot, she did, and it hurt.

And then his hands were cupping her face and his thumbs brushing her cheekbones and his nose grazing against hers and she didn’t have the power to stop. To tell him no. When he whispered her name softly, she remembered that she was supposed to be angry, but the way he said her name was the same way he used to mouth words against her skin. But it wasn’t the past anymore, because his lips were on her shoulder, her name being traced with his lips and she was a goner.

When he started kissing up her neck she was a puddle of goo, her skin so hot that surely her bones would melt. His lips grazed her jaw and chin before those same lips that set her on fire were passing over hers like a ghost.

“Aelin,” he whispered again, this time against her mouth.

And then he was kissing her, softly at first before it turned into something needy. Something necessary like he’d been starving or drowning and she was the fresh air he inhaled once he surfaced. His tongue slid against the seam of her lips and she opened for him, sighing when he moved them so she was on her back and he lay atop her. Rowan’s hands dragged up and down her body, sliding beneath the t-shirt she wore to feel her skin. The feeling of his hands– calloused from so much training, from shooting guns and climbing ropes and wielding daggers– electrified her.

But then she remembered that those hands had been on someone else. That he had likely touched her like this, that he had rocked his hips against hers the same way he was doing now. His lips had pressed against someone else’s skin and he had freely moaned in pleasure because of someone else. Rowan’s mouth had dragged over and marked another woman, his hands had slipped into the waistband of her pajamas and it became too much.

So in a quick maneuver, she pushed his head away and rolled out from beneath him. This time when her chest rose and fell so quickly, it was for entirely different reasons. Aelin hated the effect that he had on her.

“Aelin–”

“Please go. Please, Rowan. I am begging you.”

At that, he ran his hand down his face and stood, pausing in front of her for a split second to press a kiss to his forehead. And then he was gone.

~*~

The looks on the men’s faces when they saw Aelin standing with Lorcan and Rowan had them snickering quietly to themselves. You’d think that her being part of the Cadre would prove enough about her work ethic and skill, but because she was a woman they judged her. Misogyny ran rampant here.

Aelin had her arms folded over her chest, nodding along to Lorcan’s game plan for the day. She was already sweating in her stealth suit, the black material absorbing the heat of the sun too well.

The twins were helping a group perfect their sniping techniques. Vaughan was overseeing water competency. The others had commanders assisting them, but the commanders wanted to participate in hand to hand combat training because the way the Cadre was able to stealth kill and take men down with nothing but their hands. Aelin included.

She toed the ground with the tip of her combat boots, still nodding to Lorcan’s instructions. The man was long winded as hell, and he’d repeated himself twice to make sure she understood.

“You know, it’s weird. I have ears and an exceptionally competent brain,” she said, a brow raised as she looked up at him. Rowan snorted and Lorcan turned to address the men.

“You are going to divide into three groups. We all have very different ways of handling hand to hand combat. Whitethorn is probably the most creative,” he shot Rowan a look who tried to not laugh. It was always the story of how he’d impaled a man with a table leg, pinning him to the wall in the process because it went straight through the drywall.

“Galathynius is by far the fastest and has a unique skill set that can be difficult to master, but it’s incredibly useful for stealth kills.” The men standing before them looked at each other, slight grins on their faces. Aelin couldn’t wait to throttle each and every one of them.

“I have a more classic way of handling things so you’ll learn more basics from me, which are incredibly necessary and I can show you how to anticipate what your opponent is going to do next.” It was annoying that Rowan and Lorcan both were legends. At present time, Aelin was Terrasen’s best kept secret.

“If you’re in group one, you’re with me,” Aelin said, letting out a sigh as she turned to walk to the area she would be training in.

“What’s your skill set?” One of the guys asked her. He had brown hair and a perfect jawline. She pursed her lips and ran her tongue over her teeth. Later, she would find out that his last name was Samuels.

“We’ll get to that because I want you to understand what the element of surprise can do for you in a fight. It could be crucial to whether or not you walk away or they do. Whitethorn and Salvaterre’s skills precede them. I’m sure you’ve all heard the stories, and if you haven’t go ahead and ask them. Whitethorn is particularly proud of the shit he’s accomplished. Now raise your hand if you have any idea who I am.” No hands raised, and Aelin grinned. “There’s a reason for that. Okay, I want all of you to form a pretty wide circle because we’ll need the space but not so far that you can’t observe well enough.” Surprisingly they did as she said, forming a large circle that she stood in the center of.

“Why aren’t you wearing standard uniform?” Someone asked, none of the men before her hiding the way they were likely appreciating her body in the skin tight suit.

“It’s my stealth suit.” She didn’t bother to elaborate. “Who wants to go first?” Nobody answered.

“No offense, ma’am, but I don’t want to hit a girl.”

Aelin snorted when a few of the others nodded in agreement. She even let out a low laugh.

“Rowan!” She shouted, and his head whipped around. He held up a finger and said something to his group before jogging over to where she stood. “They don’t want to hit a girl.” This time, Rowan was the one to laugh. “Would you do the honors?” He braced his hands on his hips and nodded once, cracking his neck before he got into fighting stance. Aelin shook out her shoulders, ignoring the pain that shot down her arm. Shit.

Rowan nodded once at her and then he was swinging. It was too easy for her to spin away from him, to avoid every hit that he threw at her. The ones she couldn’t avoid, she blocked with her forearm, not bothering to pull the punch that came in contact with his jaw. He got a few hits in on her, too, but not quite as many as she did.

She managed to swipe his legs out from under him, and he swore when he hit the ground only for her to drop onto his chest. A flick of her wrist and her daggers were in hand, scissored over his neck. She laughed a little when she saw a small bead of blood and wiped it off his neck.

“Godsdammit, Aelin,” Rowan breathed, laying on the ground for a few more seconds to catch his breath when she rolled off of him. She had completely knocked the breath out of lungs. When she held out her hand to help him up, he took it and rose to his feet. He was still breathing hard when he walked away.

This time when nobody wanted to go first, it was out of fear.

~*~

“There’s something so satisfying besting fifty men in a day. I can’t wait to do it again tomorrow,” she told Fenrys as they walked towards the city. Aelin was starving after burning so many calories and sweating off her body weight. She almost felt brand new after showering and had even put on makeup for their night out. Fenrys had let out a low whistle when she met him outside only for her to roll her eyes.

“I can’t believe you knocked Whitethorn on his ass that hard.”

“I haven’t beat him in awhile so it felt so, so good.” Fenrys huffed a laugh. “He heard me screaming last night. I was having a nightmare. He woke me up and held me for awhile. He kissed me.” Aelin’s lips were turned down in a frown and Fen cursed under his breath.

“Did you–”

“No. I told him to leave. For once he actually listened to what I wanted and left,” she said as they walked into the bar.

Fenrys squeezed her shoulder and made his way to the bar to get their drinks. Aelin slid into a chair and rested her chin in her hand, eyes scanning the crowd. She hated that she was looking for Rowan. Looking to see if he was with that girl.

She felt so stupid. They hadn’t been together for years and yet she was still tripped up over the asshole despite everything he’d done for her. It made her weak, it made her distracting and it was– quite frankly– pathetic. Still, her eyes continued to scan the crowd.

“Who are you looking for?” Aelin started where she sat, her hand flying up to her heart. He set a drink down in front of her, and she didn’t bother looking at him as she took a drink.

“Fuck, Rowan.” She didn’t have to look to know he had a slight grin on his face.

“You didn’t answer my question,” he pointed out, and Aelin finally turned her head to look at him. His green eyes were alight. Playful. Aelin rolled hers and looked down, swirling the little black straw.

“You.” Her voice was soft and she couldn’t get herself to look at him. Rowan sat down next to her, his arm pressed against hers. She started to shake her head when he leaned over, so close that the low timbre of his voice sent chills all over her body.

“I’m not sleeping with her. I never was.”

“It’s not my business,” she shrugged her shoulders and took a long drink. The burn of the alcohol was welcome because his lips were still too close to her ear, she could smell him and feel his body heat.

“I just wanted you to know.”

“Did…” she trailed off and furrowed her brow, not wanting to ask.

“We kissed once. I felt absolutely nothing.” She looked over at him then, his face too close to hers. She nodded a single time and downed the rest of the alcohol in one gulp. After offering him a tight smile, she slid off the chair and made her way over to the bar. When she found Fenrys he was talking to Connall with his forearms leaning on the counter. Aelin ordered two shots and took them back to back.

“You sent him over, didn’t you?” Her tone was accusatory, eyes narrowed. Fen gave her a sheepish smile and she rolled her eyes. Down the bar, she noticed that pretty girl that had been on Rowan’s arm the other night and decided she wasn’t quite in the mood to be out after all.

Aelin had just reached the door when Rowan stopped her by catching her elbow. Quirking a brow, she looked up at him. Aelin was taller than the average girl, but Rowan still towered over her with his 6’4 frame.

“Where are you going, love?”

“Back to base. I don’t feel like being out.” There her stomach went again, doing somersaults in her body cavity.

“Alone?” Aelin shrugged and nodded. Obviously alone. Nobody else was with her. “Like hell you are.” It made her snort and she walked outside anyway. Despite the loud music and chatter from the bar, she could hear Rowan’s exasperated sigh as he followed her outside. “Can I walk with you?”

“You’re going to do it whether or not I say yes anyway,” she pointed out, giving him a flat look that had his lips turning up at the corners. Her eyes wandered down his arms, clenching her jaw at how his shirt barely contained his broad chest and muscular arms. It felt like the universe was out to get her. It probably was.

“How’s your shoulder?”

“It’s fine most of the time. I don’t have full range of motion but it’s close enough. The humidity is fucking with it though. It hurt so bad by the time we were done with those training sessions earlier that I took something for pain. I don’t have to do that often though.” Rowan nodded as she spoke, the two falling into a comfortable quiet. Every so often their hands would bump together, and Aelin was too tipsy to care to pull away.

When they got back to base, she leaned against the door to her quarters and said, “Thank you for walking me.”

He was standing too close. Memories flooded her mind as she remembered his hands all over her body, his mouth leaving trails across her skin. Almost involuntarily, she reached out to pick at the hem of his shirt, unable to look up and meet his eyes. Rowan placed his hands on either side of hers, his cheek pressing to her temple. Having Rowan this close was too intoxicating. She couldn’t think straight.

When she finally looked up at him, his head was ducked down. Rowan didn’t move, merely rested his forehead against hers. He wasn’t going to make the first move this time. He was going to let her decide.

Her hands ran up his chest and up his neck, stopping when her fingers were grazing his jaw. Aelin found herself unable to look away from him. This close, they were breathing the same air, his breath warm on her face.

“Rowan,” she breathed, pulling his mouth down to hers.

It was hot, the tension between their bodies nearly palpable. It didn’t take long for him to grip her thighs and pin her against the door, her legs wrapping around his waist. The kiss was bitten lips and tangled tongues. He tasted like cinnamon whiskey and she wanted to get drunk on him.

He managed to get the door open, kick it shut, and have her pinned against the wall inside the room in a matter of seconds. Every movement was rushed, Aelin’s hands pulling at his shirt until she threw it on the floor. His hands slid up her shirt and pushed it over her head.

“Off, off, off,” he murmured against her neck, setting her down only long enough to pull her jeans and panties off her body in a quick movement.

They couldn’t get close enough fast enough, her fingers undoing his jeans until they dropped to the floor. His briefs followed soon after, and then he had her up against the wall again. Rowan’s mouth connected with the curve where her neck met her shoulder, sucking and biting at her skin until she knew there would be dark purple marks tomorrow.

“Please,” she begged him, reaching her hand between them to take his length in her hand. He took the hint, pushing up into her in one swift movement. The feeling made her moan loudly, a moan that he caught with his mouth and returned in favor.

They fucked hard against the wall, Rowan pounding into her over and over again. She couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. It was almost too much to take in the best way, the feeling of him inside her. She whispered his name over and over into his mouth, dying to have him deeper, to have him faster and harder.

“Fuck, Aelin,” he groaned, biting her throat in ways that sent heat straight between her legs.

“Come for me,” she whispered against his mouth. “Please. Inside me. Please. Please.”

She didn’t stop begging until they both crashed over the edge, Rowan spilling inside her. When she rested her head back against the wall, he started pressing softer kisses down her throat and across her collarbones. She kept her fingers in his hair, combing through the strands softly.

Aelin had just started to drop her legs from his waist when he caught her calves and shook his head. She let her legs tighten around his waist and he carried them over to the bed, laying her down gently. It was only then that he slipped out of her and smoothed his hand down her hair, fingers brushing her cheeks.

When he kissed her, it was soft and slow, nothing like what they’d just done. It was loving, it was passionate. It was her favorite way that he kissed her– like she was everything to him, like she was all he’d ever wanted. He kissed her lips one more time before he sat up and started to stand. She took a moment to appreciate his ass, biting her lip before she sat up and caught his fingers.

“Don’t go. Stay. Please?” Rowan turned to look at her. “I want you to stay.”

So he did.

@starseternalnighttriumphant @musicmaam @city-of-fae @slytherin-25 @myfeyrelady @tangledraysofsunshine @westofmoon @nalgenewhore @kandasboi

#all i ask of you #aiaoy #rowaelin #rowaelin au #wow i'm on a roll w this one #fenrys moonbream #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #connall moonbeam #lorcan salvaterre

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oestrogenocide · 6 years

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Tagged by @geheimnisgoth

1. nicknames: Lilly, Lills ... i hate Lills 2. gender: Trans woman 3. star sign: Scorpio 4. height: 1,77m, 5ft 9 5. time: 18:55 6. birthday: November 12th 7. favorite bands: Moi dix Mois, Lord of the Lost, Sisters of Mercy, Jack off Jill, Lacrimas Profundere, HIM, Nightwish, Wagakki Band 8. favorite solo artists: Emilie Autumn, Tinitus, Alexander Kaschte (that fucking asshole) 9. song stuck in my head: Never Gonna Give You Up - Rick Astley... right now...arghhh 10. last movie i watched: Valerian. It was bad. 11. last show i watched: Shokugeki no Soma - San ni Sara 12. when did i create my blog: I can’t remember anymore. Must have been around 4 years ago, so sometime 2013-2016 13. what do i post: Shitposts, trans stuff, reblogs, gay stuff, ocassionally porn, sjw stuff 14. last thing i googled: ... m to feet calculator.... god damnit america, get a real system, and not this abomination you like to call measurements. 15. do i have any other blogs: I have a porn blog on the side, where i reblog all the lewds to i like, so i can look at them later (It’s @puddle-of-gay) 16. do i get asks: HAHAHAHA. no. 17. why i chose my url: When i started HRT i explained a friend of mine, how it works. And when i mentioned “and then basically Estrogen is gonna take over the testosterones job”, he screamed out “Östrogenozid!!!” in German, which translates to Oestrogenocide. It’s a bad and horrible name, but i always chuckle because of this idiots joke. 18. following: 154 19. followers: 299 21. average hours of sleep: Not. Enough. 22. lucky number: 10 23. instruments: Guitar, Keyboard, a bit of Flute 24. what am i wearing: a loose top and jogging trousers. Also a pullover. Cold. 26. dream job: Singer. Or start a DND-Twitch stream and play RP for a living. 27. dream trip: Okinawa and Kyoto 28. favorite food: Curry, Sashimi and German Pancakes with lots of cream and strawberries 29. nationality: German 30. favorite song right now: Moi dix Mois - Glorie dans le silence

i’m tagging the beautiful @ungoliath-universe and @thevelveteendork

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winterbreakblues · 6 years

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Liquid Possibility

Dear Muddles,

I drink coffee now. As you know, I didn't before. All through college, most of the time I spent in the campus coffee shop was spent (1) huddled in a corner, soothed by the comfortable chair, the ambient noise, and the odd clanking of whatever machinery existed behind that counter (did we have an espresso machine back there? Did we have lattes? Or were we a pourover-only shop? This only underscores my point) or (2) waiting next to a coffee drinker, wondering why Clif bars cost so much and bagels so little. Either way, the main draw of the coffee shop was not the beverages.

Oh, how times have changed.

Does this happen to you, Muddles? I Here I am, sitting in a coffee shop. Pre-latte, I am looking up job placement rates for various academic programs. I want to find a program whose admission criteria are too far out of my reach, with placements in jobs that mitigate risk and satisfy a few essential needs to ensure that I am not chronically unsatisfied. The barista calls my name. A few sips into this beautiful frothy beverage, I imagine myself as an author, an artist, a doctor and an economist all in one. I am convinced that I can make any of these, nay, all of these careers work and produce the perfect cocktail of happiness and fulfillment.How does this even happen? And of course, a few other big questions:

1. Is my boost in optimism, interest in traveling, and generally more expansive and curious worldview truly a result of the coffee? Sub-questions:a. If so, what is the mechanism? Is it the act of drinking a slightly sweet, warm, comforting beverage? Or,b. Is it the caffeine?c. Possible controls include: drinking ice tea – decidedly not milky, frothy, and warm, but possibly a similar caffeine content, and drinking decaf coffee – all of the comforting qualities, without the caffeine. 2. Putting aside the question of the causes of the shift in worldview, and this is the big one – who am I? Am I pre-latte Puddles, most interested in mitigating risk? Or am I post-latte Puddles, so sure that the world is safe and full of wonderful, achievable possibilities, that the only thing that matters is seizing all the positive experiences that life could possibly offer?a. Reintroducing the question of cause – if it is the caffeine, does that mean that post-latte Puddles is some drug-fueled alter ego of pre-caffeine Puddles, ephemeral and therefore not legitimate?b. If it isn’t the caffeine, does the fact that I don’t need this input make my post-latte self any more legitimate? 3. Which is better – prevention Puddles, or promotion Puddles?a. I am working off of the promotion (positivity-pursuing) / prevention (risk-avoiding) framework that Tory Higgins developed - I generally fall into the prevention camp (not sure about you, Muddles) but Higgins says that superstars generally tend to be promotion-focused.b. Is there a reason that I am prevention-focused? Does my brain know that adopting the promotion focus does not result in success for me, and that the most productive / success-generating mental framework is the prevention one, and that I should therefore focus on mitigating risk rather than chasing riskier achievements? i. If so, is coffee a dastardly substance that is deviating me from my tried and true, most salubrious mindset and leading me astray onto a path that will only result in my downfall? [If you can’t tell Muddles, I’m nearly at the end of my latte now and boy am I crazy jittery lady now. Is it possible that caffeine also shortens your attention span?]

I guess Muddles, the point of this increasingly incoherent rant is that I feel like sense of self is so precarious. Would I have made any major life decisions differently if I had a cup of coffee beforehand? What about if (warning, acknowledgement that ovaries produce cyclical hormone fluctuations that affect the brain) had a particularly high level of progesterone / estrogen / oxytocin / LH / FSH? Are we really all just specks of dust, making decisions on biology, incidental happenings, and dumb luck involving other people’s biology and incidental happenings and dumb luck, and having to deal with it afterward? I know both of us listen to the Happier podcast, Muddles. Most of the tips on that podcast and Gretchen Rubin’s work are related to self-mastery. But, how do you master a self that is so fickle? Should you even master your capricious self? Does self-mastery mean eschewing coffee?

It has become clear to me, Muddles, that coffee may be extraordinarily effective and producing boatloads of questions, but not many answers. But of course, I’m lucky that this blog is permissive (and let’s face it audience-less) enough for it not to matter all that much. [Digression: Is it okay to produce output just for the sake of producing output though? Or, is this a scale system, where output is only better than no output if it reaches a certain level of quality? The perfect can be the enemy of the good, but when is something not good enough, such that the perfect could actually serve as more of a friend (frenemy) than straight up antagonist?]

Muddles, I have to go do some jumping jacks, drink some water, and run around the block now. As discussed, my 23 years of coffee abstinence have not prepared me for this. Until next time, Puddles

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