This blog is officially archived and I have moved to a new blog! I hope to see you there! You can find me over on justafleck !
This blog is officially archived and I have moved to a new blog! I hope to see you there! You can find me over on justafleck !
This blog is officially archived and I have moved to a new blog! I hope to see you there! You can find me over on justafleck !
This blog is officially archived and I have moved to a new blog! I hope to see you there! You can find me over on justafleck !
This blog is officially archived and I have moved to a new blog! I hope to see you there! You can find me over on justafleck !
This blog is officially archived and I have moved to a new blog! I hope to see you there! You can find me over on justafleck !
I’m moving blogs! This blog is officially archived! You can now find me over here: Justafleck I’ve been on this blog for about two years now and I’m ready for a fresh space! Thanks to the wonderful @cerberuscommissions , I’ve got brand new graphics and I’d love to see you follow me over on the new blog! All current threads will transfer over, but if you’d like to toss out what we’ve already got and start something new, please feel free to let me know! Just tag my new blog when you reblog or move your reply onto a new post and toss a link to the previous reply for me!
I’m moving blogs! This blog is officially archived! You can now find me over here: Justafleck I’ve been on this blog for about two years now and I’m ready for a fresh space! Thanks to the wonderful @cerberuscommissions , I’ve got brand new graphics and I’d love to see you follow me over on the new blog! All current threads will transfer over, but if you’d like to toss out what we’ve already got and start something new, please feel free to let me know! Just tag my new blog when you reblog or move your reply onto a new post and toss a link to the previous reply for me!
Joker (2019) | Dir: Todd Phillips
jokethur:
Twin lamps flank the bed, yet he’d still felt the need to clip a reading lamp above his side on the right. Joker stares down that little halogen strip while stacking Penny’s throw pillows. The bench in front of the television is where he usually built this pyramid. Years have passed and Joker doesn’t miss a beat. Each cushion’s weight distributes with eerie precision for someone so out of practice. Television set’s off. Lamps are off, too. The answering machine in on what once was his side…along with a postcard of California’s coast tacked onto pink and yellow floral-dove wallpaper. That feeble attempt to stake a claim in this torture chamber is lost behind the corded phone. Sends a chill up Joker’s spine.
Carpeting absorbs footfalls, yet Joker’s soles don’t leave behind so much as a dent on those fibers. He moves like a ghost…and his ghost watches in the doorway with pale, lifeless eyes. Joker swallows a lump the size of what feels like a watermelon and coughs as he rounds the bed to resume pulling back the purple crushed velvet blanket and floral printed sheets. Penny’s feet tuck in first. Her pajama bottoms ride up just enough for his fingertips to graze her calf.
The accidental brush catches his throat. Werewolf stiffens like she’d taken those same scissors he bludgeoned Randall with and speared his arteries. His stance stiffens. Piano fingers lock into bizarre contortions that shaking his leg cannot jar loose. White base paint leaks into his eyes, staining them pink. All the while he listens to how easily Penny breathes — light snoring due to a lifetime of smoking. That’s likely in his future as well, though he doesn’t dwell on it.
Joker succumbs to a tremble that seizes his hands once again ere he turns their heels up and finishes smoothing blankets over her legs. He’s blind to the tear that drags the gashed diamond under his left eye. That cyan streak bleeds over his mouth and fades where the scarlet smile ends. Batting his lashes only clears the powdery white residue from stage makeup. His sclera remain blown. Congestion roils his every breath, leaving Joker little choice button square his shoulders and clear his throat until he swears he tastes blood. Strawberry blonde hair, drawn into that limp half-pony, splays across the pillows now that he’s got her situated.
Buttresses of shadow entrap him. Joker follows each black shaft from the fire escape outside their window across the ceiling. It’s too dark. As Penny pretends to lie still and pretend those spidery fingers won’t curve around his wrist and implore him to stay, Joker coughs and throws his momentum into shaking his leg. Another cough sends soft green hair into his face and over his ears. Darkness suits him ill. Likely makes the white foundation even more ghoulish.
Joker dunks a hand into his pocket until a fresh cigarette hangs between his fore and middle fingers. Theotokos and Jesus Christ hang above the bed in what Joker now realizes is a twisted embrace. Why is he clinging to her like that? He sniffs back the taste of rot; barely able to hear more than his heart thumping and ashen lungs wrenching. Penny should be wheezing through dirt and decay, yet here she lies…every fine line and straw-like hair where it once was as opposed to what they should be: compost. He could do it now. His left hand curves into a claw to coil around her neck and snap in one squeeze. He could do it. Her bones will crush like a bird’s then here, too, he will free himself of her.
Speaking Nix’s name in her presence is already enough to flip his stomach. That entire kitchen sink sandwich he’d slapped together is well on its way back up. Shoving the filter in his mouth and flicking the silver lighter twice can’t kill it.
His intestines knot. A faint, barely perceptible sway shifts Alpha Wolf’s weight from paw to paw. He could strike at any given second. His left hand remains in that curve to end it now…yet here, too, he cannot bear down. He stands between the bed and the window, glaring at Penny as old Arthur looks on from the doorway. Joker’s back faces the window, yet sodium vapor floodlights manage to flood his eyes and cast the illusion that he, like his canine counterpart, possesses tapeta lucida. Joker harnesses the reflection almost as a warning for CarnivArthur to keep back. Penny’s chest rises and falls heavier than he recalls. He tilts his head at her as he strains to bite back the laugh that will certainly wake her and spell trouble for him. What golden pools of light manage to seep past that open window play off of his wedding band. Joker flicks and curves that wrist. It seizes nothing, but he tries willing it forward to finish the job once again.
Nix’s name is a slow scalpel from that supple stretch under his chin right down to his hips’ crux. Perhaps ghost Arthur can watch him bleed out. Werewolf bends into that metaphorical knife’s path so he can potentially watch himself get disemboweled. Feels he’s hemorrhaging. He likes the feel of blood rushing free to saturate the carpet and bed. Maybe even Penny, too, if she’s in the splash zone.
Joker coughs and rocks back and forth, smiling as he does so and nodding along to a rhythm that solely lives in his head. Hasn’t even made it to Second Addition. Hidden behind a smoke cloud, Joker brings that glowing stick back to his lips and takes a deep breath. Then he replies, “The other half of me,” in too thick a voice for comfort. Heavier, hastened thumps resound in his ear as his shoulders buckle under the pressure. The weight of his laugh rolls from his core first, but he bites his own tongue and gags to keep from waking Penny. She’d wake to his laugh. Joker hasn’t blinked since the light returned to his gaze. He hones it on past Arthur.
“I told you I’m married. I’ve been…” he exhales smoke, “Married. Nixie’s short for Phoenix. Like the firebird.” Before he gives himself the mental picture of immolation, Joker adds with a quick bat of his left wrist, “T-the one that never dies.”
— Arthur remains in the doorway , shoulders slightly slumped and his hands settle at his sides . Emerald hues are cautiously honed in on the werewolf , analyzing his every move . The way he drifts through his home in silence was unnerving : it’s polar opposite from the shuffling of Arthur’s feet as he often drags his heels with every step as if his feet were made of cinderblocks . The faint glow from the city’s streetlights bring dim light to bleed into the room through the window between the open curtains , enough to cast shadows and Arthur swears they are moving . Manifesting into something darker that would soon engulf both Joker and Penny until they vanished entirely . His heart threatens to halt and he inhales a soundless breath through his nostrils as if fingers of his right hand tap against the side of his leg . Cyan bleeds further down Joker’s face than before , indication of tear shed . Arthur only assumes that it’s from hurt feelings from Penny’s previous neglect to acknowledge Joker’s attempt to inform her of his family . The thought alone was enough to sicken Arthur . The way she neglected to even acknowledge the news as if it were of no importance . No matter how many thoughts flood his head , he cannot seem to muster a single excuse to justify her actions .
— Joker’s cough reels him back to the moment , brows furrow with certain concern as he hears it rattle through the werewolf’s chest : was he ill ? He sounds that way and Arthur had noticed it earlier in the living room but only chalked it up to be the stuffiness in his apartment . Penny’s room was no better , though Arthur manages to find time to dust , the room still feels thick with it . Each breath feels weighted and even Arthur struggles to breathe , though the only time he’s hacked the way Joker does is when he’s fallen ill with a chest cold . Joker’s hand disappears into his pocket to withdraw a cigarette and the sight alone brings Arthur’s own hand to itch as he begins to crave one of his own . It wasn’t until the scent of burning tobacco hit his nostrils when his hand finally moves to retrieve a cigarette from the pack tucked away in his left pocket . His eyes leave Joker’s silhouette for as long as it takes him to light up : the old zippo lighter he flicks barely wants to work , but with a strike of good fortune , a flame finally comes to life and burns the end of his cigarette . He closes and drops the lighter back into his pocket , cigarette tucked in between thin lips until his hand returns to tuck it between his index and middle finger . He holds it close , keeping it by his mouth so that he can nurse it , eyes rising once more to meet with the ominous figure that remains at Penny’s side .
— Joker answers his question , Arthur watches the way he rocks in place and his head bobs in specific rhythm . To anyone else , they’d think he looked crazy , but Arthur recognizes the motion : they’re merely a reflection of himself and he’s suddenly reminded that Joker is him . “ Sorry ... I just ... ” he waves his hand slightly in attempts to gather his own words , brows pinching together as he struggles to get them out . “ It’s been a lot to take in . ” He recalls Joker mentioning that he was married : he’s even spoken to Joker’s children , but everything is moving far to fast for Arthur . He cannot wrap his head around this and he’s slowly coming to terms that perhaps , he never will . “ Does your wife — does she know you’re here ? With me ? ” He can only assume that perhaps , Joker would treat the situation in the same light they are with Penny . Not to confuse anyone , but the difference is his wife is not his mother . And from what Arthur knows of marriage ( from what he’s seen on television ) is that you tell each other everything . He gnaws over his own question for a moment ; if there are two of himself , then were there two of everyone ? He doesn’t plan to actively seek this out : it’s far too much for him to bear , but it was worth asking just to know . “ Has this .... ” he uses his hands gesture between Joker and himself “ happened to her too ? Or is it just us ? ”
my kink is having a rp partner that is also a very good friend where you can have 20+ ships with them but also tell them about everything and anything
Harley feels like her heart is going to leap from her chest, over their hands, and bleed out on the table between them. There’s a weird daze that fills her, one that he’s causing that he doesn’t even know about; she doesn’t know how to handle this if she’s being honest with herself, and that’s something that she tries to stray away from immensely. She doesn’t want to have to deal with the factor that she’s kicking a heel through a wall that’s meant to be up, taking a sledgehammer to it and watching it crumble while she laughs — and in those thoughts her laughter sounds insane. It sounds crazier than her craziest patient, and that’s saying a lot. There’s a twist in her stomach that knots up; her eyes dilate ever so slightly, the blue being swallowed by her black pupil for a moment, and she’s not there. She’s not in that courtyard, surrounded by barbed wire and guards in towers. No, she’s in some weird fantasy where she’s in a high-rise, walking on scaffolding and laughing every time she teeters. The city of Gotham is screaming below, and at the other side, there’s Arthur, red suit placed firmly on his body and hands out to catch her. He’s too far away to do that, but it doesn’t matter; her lips stretch into a grin that’s too wide, too insane, and then she’s falling, falling, falling into the depths of Gotham.
“ That’s why they hire me — to see the other sides, to see if it was a lapse in judgement, if it was justified, et cetera. I’m only doing my job. ” That isn’t entirely true and she has a feeling that he knows it. Tongue presses against her teeth and she feels rattled in every sense of the word, because he’s right in his own way. She wouldn’t be locked in the cell across from him, but her role at Arkham can very well be terminated if they find out how much special treatment she gives him. The only other one who gets this sort of treatment from her is Ivy, and that’s only because she’s good to her, she’s misunderstood — she has deserved to take the revenge that she did. Just like Arthur deserved to do what he did to his mother in his own way; no one looks at the childhood trauma, no one looks at the factors. That’s why she’s brought on, to make an actual file and to present a good case for his insanity, for his treatment plan.
But she’s not doing that is she? When he says those words though, she lets out an audible gasp. Her eyes widen and her mouth opens ever so slightly — but no denials come out. No, no instead she’s confronted with the very real reality that is taking shape around her — because she loves playing with fire, loves the daydreams that whisper through her mind. She wants to give into that fantasy of him, wants to give into that urge that makes her want to grab his hand and run and not look back. But her eyes steel and she lets out a shaky breath. “ And if I do? What are you going to do about it? ” There’s a temptation in her eye, that wandering thought that keeps landing on him, his moves, what he wants out of this besides a friend who listens to him and makes sure his meds are good instead of bad.
— He can only wonder what her judgement of him was : if she thought he was as bad as the rest of the staff does , then perhaps she wouldn’t be sitting before him with her cheeks tinted pink twirling her finger through her hair . He thinks it’s cute ; like the girls from some of the romance films he’s watched over the years . She has a similar effect on him , he lingers over her voice long after their sessions end . Every thought as of late are filled by her and his dreams are clouded by scenarios of them running out of this prison hand in hand together in the midst of his own break out . It’s whimsical , silly , perhaps because he knows that this shouldn’t be happening . That this can’t happen : he’d ruin her life . Everything that comes to close to him withers away much like dying flowers . One by one , wilted petals that lose their color drift to the ground until there were nothing left but a decaying stem . But he’s not the man he used to be and this thought alone was what made him want her more . That maybe , he could prove to her ( and himself ) that just maybe , he could provide her with a life worth living . That her job , her possessions , none of that would matter if she were with him . But this life is far from a fairy tale — would he really subject her to intertwining herself into his comedy ? The one where he’d sit late at night with a gun beneath his chin as she sleeps in his bed because even her love wouldn’t be enough to fix a broken man ? Where if something happened to him and he died , that she would forever be an accomplice to his crimes ? This is where his confidence falters .
— His thoughts are wandering again , the mix between them and her retaliation to his question bring him to laugh . J’s head lulls to the side as the brief laughter bring his eyes to pinch shut and his lips part to reveal crooked teeth . Temptation burns in her irises much like the way the sunset shimmers across a body of water . She’s wild like him , but she’s living in her own facade much like his own he spent far too many years . Living a life attempting to fit in : to be accepted and though her journey has proven to be far more successful than his own , the grass isn’t always greener on the other side . She’s not truly free . She may love her job , but he loved his too — employment doesn’t dictate who a person truly is and at the end of the day , they are both expendable . And though he isn’t trying to purposely sway her into anything , he simply wants her to be happy . To be free .
— “ I would tell you to dance with me in the ashes when it’s all said and done . ” . Oh , how beautiful the image is : the two of them waltzing in the ashes of Arkham Asylum after they burn it to the ground . He’d bow her back into a suave kiss before taking her hand and guiding her to safety as the GCPD would ride hot on their trail . He’d be laughing , not from anguish but from happiness and her own , whimsical laughter would accompany his . But the reality is that he’s got no where to take her . His previous home was his mother’s apartment and that’s long gone ( not that he’d ever return there anyways ) . Her home would be raided by the cops and the city wouldn’t sleep for weeks in search of the duo . But it wouldn’t matter , they could sleep under the stars on a rooftop somewhere . All he needs is her and he wants to believe that she would feel the same way . He brings a hand to sweep back his hair , fingers tangle in his own unruly curls before his hand falls back to his lap and he leans back in his seat . He’s come a long way since their first encounter : his body language is much more relaxed with her . He’s comfortable around her . “ But you’d have to quit your day job and run like a fugitive . ” he then said half jokingly as his eyes returned to meet with hers . “ You know , just clown things . ”
@allegxry : ❛ Here , take this . You’ll catch a cold . ❜
— Bitter cold laced into the wind that currents between the buildings lining the city’s streets . Winter is slowly nearing , early fall welcomes the cold weather and Arthur has long since grown numb to the cold . He stood outside in it for work : long hours , the entire day standing on street corners spinning signs dressed in Carnival to attract customers into the failing businesses that hire Ha Ha’s services . His work clothes never provided him any shelter from the cold , the fibers have long since worn thin and though he has lost his job , he’s still acclimated to this weather in his own ways . But before he could protest , Nathan has already shrugged of his own jacket and offered it to Arthur . The gesture was unexpected , Arthur isn’t used to kind treatment of any sort and he’s found himself caught entirely off guard .
— “ I ... Are you sure ? ” Arthur manages to spit out as he went through with the motion of accepting the offer . He slips his arms through the sleeves , the lingering warmth of Nathan’s body head immediately cradles him along with the scent of whatever cologne or soap Nathan uses . It’s comforting , more so than Arthur would admit aloud . But still , thick brows furrow in concern as he brings his gaze back up to meet with the other’s . “ What about you ? Aren’t you going to get cold if I’m wearing your jacket ? ” He doesn’t want to be rude and decline the offer all together , but that doesn’t stop Arthur from worrying .
☺️😍❤️ k thanks bye
😊 - It makes me happy to see you on my dashboard!
😍 - I love your writing style!
❤️ - You’re my favourite blog!
Alex!!! Omg we have been mutuals for like what? 39465 decades now? I have and will always adore tf out of you. You write so beautifully and I admire how flexible you are being able to take on such a variety of characters and manage to write each of their personalities with such perfection! You are so talented and I wish I had half the creativity as you! Thank you for being YOU!