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absolutepx · 3 years

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So I've been playing Death Stranding lately. Wait, that's not what this post is about. Well, it kind of is. Hang on. What is Death Stranding about?

A: Norman Reedus getting bare ass naked B. Sneaking around ghosts with the help of your sidekick, an actual baby C: Carrying 50 Amazon packages up a hill while trying to not topple over D: Waking up in the morning and drinking 5 Monster Energy™ for breakfast

For those following along at home, the answer is actually none of the above. Despite the set dressing being bizarre to the point of near absurdity, what the game is actually about, like thematically, is actually really simple.

See, the development of Death Stranding was actually quite a trip. Hideo Kojima is the video game world's equivalent of an auteur director. He has a very recognizable personal style. It's thoroughly horny – he caught a bunch of shit for the design of Quiet in MGSV, but like, a lot of Kojima characters are just -like that-, including the dudes. Also, this is going to possibly be important later.

Anyway, so Kojima was going to do a rebootmakequel of Silent Hill, and the demo actually made it to the PS store and I could actually write a whole side essay about why P.T. (it was called P.T. for some reason btw) was brilliant game design for how it used the same hallway over and over and it was somehow beneficial to the overall feeling of horror. So Konami it turns out kinda sucks nowadays and they like, fired Kojima (they were huge dicks about it behind closed doors, too) and scrapped the project and kicked him out on the street and kept the Metal Gear series which was his baby (literally the baby in the sink in P.T., he snuck a bunch of messaging about the Konami situation into the demo like a breakup album) and Kojima would go on to form his own studio and poach some of the people who worked with him to boot. So the thing about Kojima is this: he's got a reputation for already putting some wild shit in his games, like a ladder that takes like 10 real time minutes to climb in MGS3 for dramatic effect, and a boss in MGS3 that summons the ghosts of all the people you were too lazy to stealth past and killed, or a sniper battle with a really old guy that he wanted to have last two weeks or some shit until he died of old age but he was "told that "this was impossible and not recommended." That is a real quote I just looked up. So he's coming off the heels of making this hugely successful game with MGSV and the hype of the P.T. Demo and he fucking, he like took all the people that were going to be working on P.T. Along like Guillermo Del Toro was going to co-write it and Norman Reedus was going to star in it, and he's like, I'm going to make this game called Death Stranding. And the first trailer comes out for it and it's completely nuts. Norman Reedus wakes up naked on a beach crying with a baby and there are floating people in the sky? So we're all like hooooooly shit, there's no one to tell him "this is impossible and not recommended" anymore. What's he going to make now!?

So the whole time the game is in development I keep seeing these tweets where it'll be like, Kojima and one of his homies smiling with some saccharine message about being spiritual warriors and changing the world. And not just Del Toro and Reedus, there was Mads Mikkelsen (another guy Kojima puts in the game just because he apparently loves him), and the band Chvches, and also like, Keanu Reeves at one point? You know how everyone has just kind of accepted that Keanu is a being of light? Here he was endorsing Kojima. The hype was pretty confused and frantic.

The game eventually comes out. A lot of game journos hate it because I think there was this expectation it was going to be, you know, less weird and have more of the conventional structure of a video game. That's not to say the average gamer wasn't also dismissive of it, but I think on the ground level there was more of an understanding that like, yeah, Kojima just be like that sometimes.

Because the game was a timed console exclusive and your homie don't play like that, I spent the first year or so cautiously viewing Death Stranding from a distance. I wasn't sure I was going to like it – except for being really impressed with P.T., I wasn't actually a big fan of Kojima's games as games – but I -was- sure that I was going to buy it, because of the way Konami fucked him over, just out of support. And the shit I was hearing was really out there. The primary mode of gameplay is just delivery packages. You collect Norman Reedus' bathwater and pee and use it as grenades. You get a motorcycle that looks like the one from AMC's The Ride with Norman Reedus, and when you sit on it, his character in the game says "Wow, this thing is like the one from AMC's The Ride with Norman Reedus!"

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But I didn't really want to know that much about it. Something has that much fucking crazy person energy, you want to go in mostly blind, right? So maybe people just weren't talking about this, or maybe I wasn't seeing it, but then I watched Girlfriend Reviews' video about it and they came right out and said it (link provided if you want to hear Shelby say it more articulately than me):

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Death Stranding is basically about the exact opposite of Twitter. It's about remembering how to be kind to each other, how to reconnect in a world where people are so often hostile to each other by default. Prophetically, it's about a world where people are afraid to go outside or touch other people and how damaging that is. It's not a game about carrying packages, it's a game about helping people by being brave enough to walk through a wasteland carrying their burdens because they can't. It's about rebuilding the lost connections between people, about restoring roads and giving people hope. I bet, for Kojima and the people close to him, it's about how to answer hostility with compassion. You can't kill people in Death Stranding. You can and are absolutely encouraged to fucking throw hands with people sometimes, but all the tools and weapons are nonlethal. So I think Kojima took all the Twitter heat he got over the Quiet nontroversy, and all the feelings of isolation he had from Konami separating him from his team during the end of the development of MGSV, and all the support and encouragement he got from his bros Del Toro and Mads and the rest, and decided to channel that into making a game that was a statement about all of it. And sure, it's a little heavy handed, and sure, it's a little saccharine, and sure, the gameplay sometimes borders on miserable in service of creating emotional payoffs. For me, especially in 2020, this message is a huge success. Social media should be an opportunity for all of us to feel more connected to each other, yet primarily it feels like one of the main forces driving people apart. Why is that? Why is the internet of today such a hostile place? I'm old enough to remember web 1.0: I can haz cheezburger memes; YTMND; the early wild west days of Youtube... What happened to us? I've thrown the blame at Twitter in the past, and I think the architecture of the user experience on Twitter is absolutely a big piece of the puzzle, because it fosters negative interactions. But in terms of the behavior, people have observed that 2018 Twitter was actually almost exactly like 2014 Tumblr. (For the record, Tumblr is now one of the chillest places left on the internet, because so few fucks are left to give.)

I think part of it is the anonymity. The dehumanizing disconnection of the separation of screens and miles. Louis CK, before he was cancelled, had a great point about cyberbullying, and why it's so much more savage than kids are IRL. When you pick on someone in person and you are confronted with seeing the pain you caused them, for most sane people it causes negative feedback and you become disgusted with your actions and eventually learn to stop being a shithead. Online, at best you can "break the wrist, walk away".

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At worst, you can become addicted to "clout chasing" and the psychological thrill of being cheered on by your social ingroup. It's even worse if you feel like it's not bullying and your actions are justified because whoever you've targeted is a bad person so you don't have to feel bad about what you do to them. This is where reductive, unhelpful catchphrases like "punch a nazi" come in. For every argument, one or both sides have convinced themselves that the other side is subhuman because their beliefs are so disgusting. And sometimes it's even true! A lot of times, especially these days, people really are acting like animals or worse online. Entire disinformation engines are roaring day and night, churning out garbage and cluttering the social consciousness. (Kojima talked about this bit, too, way back in MGS2. As if I wasn't already in danger of losing my thread through this.)

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The human brain was not built to live like this. You can't wake up every morning, roll over and open your phone, and be immediately faced with a tidal wave of anger and indignity. It wasn't built to be aware of fully how horrible the world is at any moment ALL AT ONCE, ALL THE TIME. And you will be. Because of another way that our brain works – the way we are more likely to share negative opinions. And because of the cottage industry built on farming outrage clicks, and because of constant performative activism.

It's not that I don't agree that being informed is important.

It's not that I don't agree that the causes people get riled up about are important.

They are. They absolutely are.

But we can't keep living like this. The constant, unending flood of tragedy, arguments, and hot takes. How much of the negativity we associate with online culture is the product of this feedback loop? What if the rise of doomer culture has been, if not entirely created by, has been nourished and exacerbated by our hostile attitudes toward each other? Incels and TERFs, white supremacists, radfems, tankies and Trumpers – it seems like on every side of every issue, there are people simultaneously getting it wrong in multiple directions at once and there are more being radicalized every day. They are the toxic waste left behind by the state of discourse. And any hill is a hill worth dying on.

So what am I actually advocating? I don't know. There are a lot of fights going on right now that are important and we can't just climb into bunkers and ignore our problems hoping that Norman Reedus and his fine ass are going to leave the shit we need on our doorsteps. We need to find the strength to carry those hypothetical packages for ourselves sometimes - and hopefully, for others as well. Humans are social creatures. We need interaction and enrichment.

We need love.

So just try to remember the connections between humanity. Try to put more good stuff into the world when you can. Share more shitposts and memes. Tell your friends and family that you love them. Share good news when you hear it. Go on a weird fucking tangent about Death Stranding. Find a way to "be excellent to each other, and party on, dudes."

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#death stranding #hideo kojima #video games #cancel culture #essay #oc

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winterwriter8845 · 5 years

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In Love With My YouTube Hero

Masterlist

Chapter 1

I walked into my English class where my teacher, Mr. Newman was writing our final project on the Promethean board. I sat down in my usual seat in the second row towards the window. I didn't like to be in front of the class, but I didn't want to be called on if I sat in the back. I don't have a problem with the teacher; he was a good teacher. I just have anxiety with being wrong, if he picks on me to answer a question, and I will most likely be chosen to answer if I sit in the back or the very front. I pulled out my laptop and started to prepare for the class.

I saw a notification from YouTube on my notification box. It was a notification from my favorite YouTuber, XavGame, and the thumbnail was just him sitting in front of the camera, not his usual colorful thumbnails of his face on whichever character he was playing as in a game. I pulled the video up on YouTube and watched it, as I had nothing to do for the next ten minutes before class started. Xavier, or XavGame, was a couple of years older than me, and he was my YouTube hero. His videos had always cheered me up when I was depressed or needed to distract myself. He was a very inspirational person as he would do multiple charity streams a year, most of them for donating to children hospitals or to fight world hunger. But once a year, he would use the money he got from donations to go to a poverty-stricken country and build things that were needed, like houses, hospitals, wells. He would even bring basic medicine to those who couldn't get to it.

The video went on, and Xavier went on to say that he was going on a short break. He had realized that he needed a break from making videos and traveling to just enjoy some alone time to clear his head and relax. I didn't blame him. Even being a small part-time YouTuber is hard and stressful; I can't imagine what it's like to be a full-time YouTuber that uploads videos twice a day, along with planning and organizing mission trips.

I finished up the video and clicked off the video and pulled up my Tumblr account. Someone had found out a proxy that gets past the firewalls, so everyone uses it to get on social media and watch YouTube videos. I looked through my feed and reblogged some aesthetic pictures and then looked through my message to work on writing commission. I saw that I had some new messages. I started to talk to my patrons and got the commissions straightened out.

I closed my laptop as class started. Mr. Newman started the class by greeting us. He then proceeded to tell us about our final project. Our final project was to choose a unit from our studies and write a piece of writing that goes along with that unit, and he was giving us the entire block to work on it. I looked through the units that we had been through and decided to write a Medieval narrative. I decided to write the medieval narrative in the perspective of my original character who is a pirate during the Golden Age of Piracy. I began writing, and I didn't even stop writing when the bell rang as I had my earbuds in my ears, my music blaring through them.

There was a tap on the edge of my computer screen, and I looked up to see my best friend, Teegan, standing there with her arms crossed. "Hey, T-Bean," I chuckled. My other friend, Val, and I had always called her "T-Bean" because her name is Teegan Bean.

She sat down on the desk next to me, pulling out a hair bow. She started to fix her long, wavy dark brown hair, putting it in a ponytail. "We better hurry up to Photojournalism. We've been late every day this week so far." She smiled, her forest green eyes scanning over my face and desk.

I started to put away my laptop after saving my document with my Medieval narrative in it. I closed my laptop and slid it into my messenger bag. I got up and left the English class with my bag and Teegan. We walked down the hall, taking a stop at our lockers to change our binders before arriving at the Photojournalism classroom. There were already people are the Mac computers, working on Yearbook spreads. We only have eight Macs and about twenty people, because the school won't give us funding to order more Macs, or at least more computers in general, or order more Nikon DSLRs because they literally put all the funding into the football team. Every other organization in the school must do their own fundraising to be able to compete or make whatever they're making, whereas the football team doesn't have to do fundraising and can afford to travel all over the state and don't even have to pay for jerseys. I even offered some of my own money that I make at the small shop down in town to get the cameras and Macs, but Ms. Dyer refuses every time I do.

But that's my ranting for now. I walked to my usual seat towards the corner of my room with my laptop as Teegan takes her seat at the middle Mac and begins to work on fixing some photos in Photoshop. I sat down and pulled out my laptop. I started to work on the blog that I ran on the school website. The yearbook staff had agreed to do a feature in the yearbook where we put pictures of students or teachers and the give a story about a time in high school that they will always remember for as long as they are alive. Since we get so many good stories, we decided to make a blog on the school sight to feature the ones that we couldn't put in the yearbook. We called it "the Humans of James River."

I began to transcribe stories and select photos. Once I had a few done, I started to type them onto the blog. I finished up when the bell rang. I grabbed my laptop and slid my laptop into my bag. I walked out of the classroom and down the hall to my locker. I open my bookbag and started to put my binders and notebooks in my bookbag. I closed my bookbag and shut my locker.

I walked out of the school to Ruby, my red mini cooper. I unlocked the car and put my bag in the passenger seat. I plugged my phone into my car and scrolled through my Spotify playlist. I found my playlist and put it on shuffle, and Without Me by Halsey started to play. I started the car and pulled out of the parking lot.

I live in a small town in Virginia where everyone knows each other; the population of my town was about 600, and that included the town itself and the rural area surrounding the town. The body count of the student body at my high school is about 400 kids, the senior class, my grade, having about 150 kids. But the high school covered about four different communities, not just the town of little ole' Buchanan.

I honestly hated it here. There isn't anything to do, and there are old people galore. But aside from the old people and nothing to do, the reason I hate it is because of my parents. I have to live with them despite me being 18 because if I leave them, they will go nuts and call the cops on me and make it a whole big deal. They're the type of parents that don't care about their kid's wellbeing, just if they have someone to baby them. They drink themselves away each night and fight with each other, or worse: take their anger out on me, despite me staying in my room and not speaking nor interacting with them at all so I won't provoke them to cause harm to me. I'm used to them hitting and kicking me, mentally abusing me, and causing me to go to the hospital for their harm inflicted on me. I, as well as others, have tried to get my parents turned, but the cops didn't have any evidence to hold against them. Then after that, my parents threatened to harm me or anyone else who tried to turn them in, so no one has tried to help me.

I eventually arrived at my house and got out. My mother was home, but my dad wasn't. That was a relief, as my dad was always the reason that my mother went to drinking. She is nice when she isn't drunk, but my father is just mean in general. I wish mother would leave him, but she wouldn't be able to support herself and me.

I grabbed my book bag and walked into the house. "I'm home, mother," I called out.

"I'm in here, Darcy." I heard her from the hallway, so she was probably in her bedroom. I walked in her room to find her walking out of the bathroom that was connected to their room. In her hand was a couple of pregnancy tests.

I looked up at her eyes. "You're pregnant."

She nodded. "Yes." She looked down.

"Who's is it?" I asked, knowing she's had a past of having affairs behind my father's back.

"Darc-"

"Who's?" I cut her off.

"His name is Mark... He's your AFDA teacher from last year...." She sighed.

"Mr. Wilson?" I felt shocked. I knew he was a good man, but I was just scared of what father would do to her if he found out it wasn't his.

She nodded. "Yes. He's taken care of me when your father wouldn't. He's a better lover than my husband is." She sat down on her bed. "You know that..." I only nodded. She looked at me. "Please don't tell your father."

"I won't. You know I won't. I just don't want him to find out on his own and hurt you..." I sat down beside her and put my arm around her shoulders. "You need to give up the alcohol. It'll hurt the baby."

She nodded. "I know. I'm trying to stop."

I leaned against her. "Go live with Teegan and her parents and I. Or go live with Mark."

"I don't know... I'll talk to Mark."

"You need to live with him. He can take care of you." I looked over at her. "Please. If not for me, then do it for the baby. I don't want dad to be the reason you lose the baby."

She nodded. "I know." She stood up. "Enough of that for now. I'm going to go pick up something from North Star. Do you want anything?" North Star was a restaurant near my town that had the best food. It was very small, but it was very popular, so the seats filled up fast.

I raised an eyebrow at her. "North Star? You rarely eat anything from North Star."

"It's the baby." She chuckled. "Do you want anything?" She repeated.

"Hmm, I'm feeling a bacon cheeseburger. I have a charity stream tonight, so I'm not going to eat a lot, and I didn't eat at school so I'm very hungry.

"Okay. I'll order our food."

I smiled. "Here, take some of my money." I pulled out my wallet and handed her some money for both of our meals.

She smiled at me. "Thanks, sweetie."

I smiled as I walked into my room. I walked in and sat my book bag down on my bed. I made sure everything was neat before I walked over to my computer desk.

#writers on tumblr #my writing #wip #youtube #in love with my youtube hero

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diyunho · 7 years

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The Joker x Reader - “I Love You”

You never miss a chance to say the magic words to him. The Joker doesn’t want to hear about it but you are not the one to give up so easily. Actually… I guess anybody can back down if pushed enough.

– During an important meeting with new business partners, Frost interrupts and brings in a little envelope to J, whispering you said it is absolutely urgent and imperative he opens it right away. The Joker wonders what the hell it might be, opens the letter and shakes it to take out the contents when a bunch of pink glitter flies all over along with your message on a piece of paper: “I LOVE YOU.” The other guys fake cough, attempting to pretend they didn’t see crap while The Clown Prince of Crime gives them an icy glance, annoyed with your stunt:

“If I hear a single sound, I swear you’re all dead!!!!”

Goddammit woman, stop your shit! he thinks biting on his cheek, dusting off the sparkly dust off his shirt, but stashing your little note in his pocket.

– You are away on a mission for 2 days when his cell suddenly goes off at 1 AM, letting him now he has a new message. He is more than cranky he got woken up and checks to see what it is. A text from you: “ I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU.”

You must be kidding me! J growls, pissed you bothered him with such nonsense but saves the message in his drafts and goes back to sleep.

– One night he visits the club without you and gets out of his Lamborghini when the phone beeps.

What is it, the stupid words again?! he scoffs when he sees your name on the screen.

“Look up!” the text simply says and he does, noticing the huge light up message on the top of the building across the street; “I LOVE YOU.”

This is getting beyond ridiculous, The Joker huffs but takes a picture of what you did and saves it in his favorites.

– After taking a shower in the morning, J goes in the front of the sink to brush his teeth and finally gazes at the mirror. There it is, written with red lipstick: “I LOVE YOU.”

He rolls his eyes, fed up with your behavior and erases the words, not before that wide smirk creeps up on his lips. He hears you giggle and goes back to frowning:

“Cut it out, Y/N!!!”

– You bring the white mocha to his office and place it right on top of his papers. J stares at it for a few seconds and sighs, lifting his blue eyes from the cup, complaining about what you wrote with foam: “I LOVE YOU.”

“Are you done with this rubbish, Princess?” he mutters while you just innocently lift your shoulders up, not answering. “Bring me another mocha and NO FUNNY BUSINESS, understand?”

You pout, disappointed he never appreciates your efforts and by the time you are back with his new coffee The Joker already finished the other cup.

“What?” he snarls when notices your smile. “Don’t get it to your head, Doll, I really couldn’t wait any longer so I had to drink it; you’re so slow!” he makes sure to admonish but kisses your wrist when you hand him the mug.

–During a heist you go with a few henchmen on the upper floor while he stays down with the rest, looking around for the diamonds and gold. You go behind a wall and dial his number. He picks up after 3 rings and you just say; “I LOVE YOU,” and hang up.

Really?! The Joker mumbles, astonished at your unprofessional conduct (that’s how he likes to call it). He simply texts back: “Shut up, Y/N!”

And… he asked for it when your reply pops up on the screen: ““ I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU.”

I totally can’t stand her; she really drives me nuts, he concludes, irked at your game, but saves this message in drafts too.

– J wakes up and his feet touch something cold and pretty sharp when he gets out of bed. You got him a ton of gold chains and arranged them on the floor to spell “I LOVE YOU.” His mouth opens on amazement, considering chocking the life out of you at this point. Your green haired boyfriend kicks the chains all over the place, mad again, but not before taking a picture of your accomplishment and saving it in his favorites. He hears you snicker.

“I said cut it out, Y/N!!!!”

– “Bubble bath is readyyyyyy,” you announce, proud of the nice evening you planned for the two of you.

J comes in, taking his clothes off, suspiciously scrutinizing the bathroom.

“Any hidden ‘I love you’ anywhere?” he smacks his lips, warning you he’s not going to tolerate your actions anymore. He had such a shitty day it’s not even funny.

“Nope,” you confidently declare, moving back in the Jacuzzi so he can sit by you.“Nothing at all, baby.” He’s starting to relax when you massage his shoulders, then lean over and kiss his neck, whispering: “I LOVE YOU.”

“That’s it !!!” he splashes all over, angered at your little stupid plan to squeeze in those stupid words again. “Quit bothering me, you pain in the ass!!!”

“What, you don’t want me to love you?” you raise your voice also, not understanding why he’s so worked up.

“I didn’t say that!” he yells back and you are baffled.

“So what’s the problem then?!”

“STOP SAYING IT!” he hisses at you, panting. “Why should I?! Aren’t you happy that I love you?!”

“NO! I don’t need your stupid love!!!!!” The Joker has a fit, kicking all the candles and shampoo bottles in his rage, making sure to direct them your way.

You gasp in pain when one of the candles hits you right in the face since you didn’t have enough time to dodge it. You don’t say anything, just step out of the hot tub, holding your numb left cheek with your hand.

J stops his tantrum but doesn’t react in any other way as you leave him standing in the water, still fuming at your absurdities.

– The I LOVE YOU’s stopped. He doesn’t get any more letters, texts, hidden messages or sky lights on the buildings. So exciting you finally got it into your head you irritate him with your stupid feelings all the time! The King of Gotham doesn’t even hear it when you make love and that delights him.

The white mocha doesn’t taste the same though. When he asks why, you sassily respond:

“Because it’s not made with love so get used to it!”

“Cut it out, Y/N!” he snaps as you quietly walk away and couldn’t care less.

– He didn’t hear the words out of you in a few months and it’s perfect. Today he even went through his phone to delete all the useless pictures and drafts he saved from you.

– “Look up,” you urge him, pulling on his arm and his heart starts beating faster for some reason, but then all he sees is The Batsy signal in the night sky.

“He’s close, we should get going,” you tell J and he agrees, disappointed at the revelation. He kind of expected something else. – Frost brings the letter to him in the meeting, whispering it’s urgent and J impatiently opens it to find inside just a dull piece of paper: “Dinner at 6, robbery at 7.30 . All ready to go.”

She could’ve texted me, he sulks, cramming your note in his pocket. He kind of expected something else.

– You are away for one night and he gets the text at 3AM. He immediately jumps out of bed and grins when he sees your name on the screen.

“This undercover mission you assigned me is very boring.” That’s all you sent. He grumbles something not very sweet and tosses the phone on the table, stretching and going back to bed, frustrated. He kind of expected something else.

– He gets out of the shower and looks at the mirror just to see your insipid notation with red lipstick: “Be back soon.”

Why doesn’t she just text me if that’s all she has to say?! The Joker whines, grabbing a paper towel so he can clean your mess. He kind of expected something else.

– “Bubble bath is readyyyy!” you shout and he comes in, ready to unwind. You move so he can sit by you and begin massaging his shoulders, talking about a bunch of stuff that happened during the day.

“Well?!” he interrupts your speech, turning his head towards you.

“Well what?” you ask back, not getting the point, already forgetting what you were talking about and it annoys you.

“Say it!” he commands, slowly blinking, elbowing you.

“Say what?” you squint your eyes, trying to remember the topic he just made you forget.

“You know what, Pumpkin. Say it!” he mutters through his clenched teeth, not thrilled he has to bring it up.

You take a deep breath and gaze at each other for a few good seconds before finally kissing his neck and enunciate: “I LOVE YOU.”

“Good, I was wondering about that,” he grouchily comments, leaning backwards so he can rest against your body. “My white mocha better taste great again, Doll,” The Joker makes sure to point out, closing his eyes.

“With or without foam?” you tease J and since he’s such a difficult person he sure deserves it.

“With and it better spell something,” he reaches his hand to tug on your wet hair.

“It might if I still have the skills; it’s been a while,” you debate and it’s actually the truth.

“Don’t care, make it work,” he puffs, not giving a damn; he just expects it.

You want to laugh but can’t: your strategy worked- it was learned from the best. Your boyfriend should be proud since manipulating things to obtain what is desired happens to be his specialty.