What I really love about this ‘mattress performance’ is that other students helped her carry her mattress across campus.

All those people reminded her that she didn’t have to carry that weight alone. That’s amazing.

this is her at her graduation

At her fucking graduation. God damn.

I’ll never not reblog this

This is about ten years old. Wonder what she’s doing now

Performance art and anti-rape campaigning, according to her Wikipedia article.

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Emma_Sulkowicz

I will never not ignore this, I have been this many times before. I AM A SURVIVOR ✊

Night Fever

Part 5

Other bits in the Masterlist

Well well! Didn’t plan on continuing this piece but @notcallingyoualiar made my blood boil with her exquisite Clothing is Custom, No Labels (Heath Joker fans - drop everything and go read it!!! 😳) and my fingers started writing like crazy.

I might just turn this safe house into my own home of the blues, cause I’ve sure been having it lately. ♥️🖤

The garage doors shut within a few short seconds, you pulled the lights on and reached for the handle on the van’s back door to let him come out into the hideout. As soon as the door opened, he gripped your wrist and dragged you into the van, close to tumbling over him in your ascent, but he pushed you on the uncomfortable metal bench and slithered himself between your thighs in a blink.

Your head stung from the abrupt collision with the grated window, your gun unholstered and thrown on the dirty floor, his mouth on yours athirst. Your shirt buttons scattered on the floor as he ripped your shirt open, impatiently disheveling your starched uniform and baring your chest, his growing bulge pressing against your core as he kneeled. The click of the loose handcuff hanging from his wrist against the metal interior blasted sirens you’d been chasing in spite of your training as a cop. His painted mouth left traces of himself all over your neck and chest as he kiseed, sucked, bit into you, branding you as his once again in red greasepaint, the strong grip of his hands so visceral despite his lean physique, he’d be leaving bruises all over your skin. Who is he and what has he done to my sweet, tender Arthur?

“Somebody’s got her tiny paws dirty tonight, hasn’t she?”

Eyes in the back of your head from the impudent irony of your surroundings and his fervent gobbling on your skin, you had to regain consciousness just to nod obediently.

“How does it feel to help a convicted criminal escape, Ms. Officer? Does it make you slick down there to know what you’ve just done?” his rumbling husky voice in striking contrast to his brutish grips almost tumbling both of you over.

You nodded again, his tongue glazing your lips then invading your mouth as if prepared to eat you whole in one go. All you could muster were four letter words whimpered in half a voice that cracked occasionally as he pulled you lower to push himself further. A life threatening fever burned through your skin enough to make him sweat under that red suit that blazed all your senses to ashes.

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What Didn't Happen

Summary: Since his debut, Joker’s been figuring out his new life. Through every shift, Y/N’s presence lingers.

Warnings: Swearing, Violence, Angst

Words: 4,045

A/N: @iartsometimes​ made a request asking how Watch What Happens would have ended if Arthur had become Joker. One of my goals in writing WWH was to give Arthur the realistic but lovely ending he deserved. (And my reasons for not writing Joker can be found in this overly long post. 😂) But writing has become harder over the last few, trying months, and what she requested turned out to be a welcome challenge. I’ll never be able to thank her enough for it. Special thanks to @jokerownsmysoul​ for beta-ing this piece! It wouldn’t have turned out as well without your feedback. 💜

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open!

He used to fantasize whenever trapped in the musty, dim cave of his building’s basement laundromat. The dryer hummed along, fueled by his last two quarters. The monotonous fall of his red sweater onto his mother’s flowered, faded robe induced a trance. Freed his brain from negative thoughts long enough to contemplate his goals. Relaxation after twelve hours on his feet. A Chaplin film on GBC. TV dinners - the good kind with two sides and an apple crumble dessert - enjoyed with a girlfriend at his side. His inevitable big break, transcending from fuck-up to stand-up.

Life on the run was not the existence Arthur Fleck had wished for himself. Sure, he’d enjoyed the notoriety of newspaper coverage. The headlines speculating on the identity of the “Clown Vigilante,” the killer of the Wall Street Three, had tickled him like a game of hide-and-go-seek. But that’s where he’d resided since dancing on the hood of that police car. Since ignoring the throbbing in his head and gashes in his mouth to smear on a bloody grin and show his audience how fucking happy he was.

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This will hurt but so worth the read

Night Fever

Part 4, finale

Happy woman’s day, everyone! ❤😍🔥 Here’s a little something to hopefully make today brighter, you wonderful people really do that for me and I could never thank you enough! 🖤💥

What a distinctly claustrophobic feel to have all curious eyes following your every twitch, the tables had turned irreversibly. Regardless how you’d toiled to not draw unwanted attention to yourself on this job, Joker’s act of extreme machismo had the place in uproar. All eyes judging all your imperfections relentlessly, even the bouncer had to help with the never ending drink orders and, subtly, to be there for a faint whiff of protection. Yet the looks clawed viciously, some to spark a chit chat with the instigator of Joker’s protective rage, others out of envy that had turned their faces red with spiteful jealousy only women could be capable of. Frankly, the latter had you on highest alert, there’s no telling what a jealous woman can do. Of course they had the nerve to approach and scorn through façade compliments, most of them stunning young does with one thing on their mind, one that this bitch over here seemed to have unlimited access to.

It felt fucking good. As difficult as it was to contain the edge that thrill had gotten all over you, Robin’s afterglow seemed to only enhance exponentially, beaming at everyone she handed drinks to. A cautious smile, but the flare in her eyes was a cutting laser to contrast the kindness of her words to all the disgruntled smiles: He would have done the same for every woman in his operation, you know better than myself how much of a gentleman he is, baby doll. Seemed you’d dropped the whoremongery and now ran a one woman division of marketing and public relations. Gordon should have checked in more often to avoid you forgetting your mission, yet somehow he’d forgotten that himself.

Joker had already left through the front door hours ago, careful to shake bandaged hands with half the dance floor on his way out, yet not a glance to you. He’d been in the game long enough to calculate his every move, and he’d almost stifled all rumors of a quick fuck with his bartender after the fact. You’d been fast enough for the math to add up, thanks to your dexterity in bandaging under time pressure, and his distinct talent in making you come almost upon touch, yet they didn’t know any better. As many drinks as you’d fixed tonight, there was a sense of pride enveloping that risqué recklessness while hiding in plain sight, you’d become a mixture of tequila, vodka and Amaretto, a Soul Taker, and you’d just penciled that into your menu as an undying inside joke, a trademark for the club.

Night Fever

Part 2

Traffic was always peaking at this early morning hour, yet you enjoyed the solitude of your car with your favorite music, a desperately needed limbo between your lonely life as a police officer, and the thrilling one of bartending for Gotham’s most wanted. Most days had been quiet and uneventful, yet you physically dreaded stepping back into that bar thinking someone might whiff you out, then smoke you out. As you sat humming in traffic, that dread suddenly developed into a new, titillating flavor of anxiety that your boss was onto you. He’d called you ‘kitten’, that was oddly sweet of him. He was well renowned for his gallantry, yet his choice of pet name for you had been ‘peaches’ so far.

If that hadn’t been him bringing out his big guns to your innocent knife fight, then you’d been born yesterday. Gordon didn’t specify that assault with a friendly weapon was a felony in your quest for public justice, he had only warned about it. You were sometimes amazed at the sheer stupidity of your remarks under boiling tension, you knew too well that was merely a low blow excuse to justify your own agenda in this mission. You’d only advanced one mile, yet your mind was in overdrive at the consequences of any of your future actions. If you refused, you’d miss your chance of ever finishing this mission in one piece, if you didn’t, you’d disappoint your late mother in making the same wrong choices and falling for a criminal. The only valid option was to accept with one condition to yourself. Be as ruthless as he was, despite all gallantries, then steal the ground from under him and let him burn. There was no other way.

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Night Fever

Part 1

Alright, so I’ve been painting him incessantly for the past few weeks, and two letters from my Arthur arrived at my doorstep, delivered by @ajokeformur-ray and @sweet-nothings04. They’ve infused me with inspiration, and I cannot thank you enough for the joy you two have brought me!!! 🔥🥺❤ So, here’s a new story in return, still a wip, but hope you like it!

Thank you, Chuckletown, for putting a smile on my face every day, I’m so deeply grateful! 🤗🖤

Summary: years after the start of his infamy, you infiltrate Joker’s operation, working undercover as a full time bartender at his club. Your mission was to gather intel on Joker’s high-strung dealings with the Maroni crime family, yet your new job repeatedly subjected you to intriguing accounts of Joker that soon had you question your professionalism.

Length: 6k ish

Warnings: mentions of mental conditions, violence, alcohol, an emancipated Joker. Much use of dialogue for characterization, heavy flirt, pre smut intro, oh yes 🤭🔥

——————–

He was 5 minutes late already. Poor Clarice, if only she knew you were here with her, she’d be happy to see you again. You hated seeing her so dozed up on pills but her depersonalization disorder had brought her to Arkham less than 2 years ago. At least she was comfortable here, you’d made some extra expenses to make sure.

The door opened and in walked the commissioner, your boss. Finally.

“Gordon, you scared the shit out of me”

“Hey, Y/N, sorry for that. Had to lay low for a bit, saw Morgan down the isle, probably visiting his mother. How have you been?”

“How have I been?!” just hearing the question felt like a stone had been lifted off your chest, and you could finally talk to someone about it. “Oh let’s see, I’m scared shitless every night I walk into that club, other than that, everything’s great…”, your rubbed the salt from your eyes. “3 weeks into this, I’m starting to make friends at the bar. People do speak a lot when they’re tipsy. Had it not been me in that hornet’s nest, I’d call this one of your best ideas so far”

“Sit, please. Has anything happened to you?”

“No, I’m alright. I’ve been dealing directly with Gary mostly, he’s a sweetheart, keeps the books and his hands clean. He introduced me around, but apart from a few catcalls and some inappropriate jokes, nothing I can’t handle.”

“Good, good. Try to keep a low profile, make friends, pour them a bit too much to drink, especially if they’re Maroni’s crew. Tell me. Have you seen him?’

“I have, yeah, he spends at least 4 hours at the club every couple nights. When he skips for longer, I see the news the next day. His schedule is irregular, even his crew seems surprised when he’s not at the club. I haven’t managed to get more yet, only the general gossip about this or that, never names or locations though. It’s probably just disinformation anyway. I saw Pino Maroni 3 days ago, caused a raucous at his table, but he was gently escorted back to his limo by Joker’s men.”

“Was he there?”

“He was. He watched Pino make a fool of himself coming at him, but treated him like an old friend. Half that club probably even bought it. He’s gonna kill him, isn’t he?”

Read this!!!

Malamute Pups 😍

#FLOOFY

Out of Sight

Summary: Y/N has an unexpected dash of inspiration. Arthur doesn’t require much convincing.

Warnings: Swearing, Smut

Words: 4,221

A/N: This fun little request comes from @sweet-nothings04​​. You’re wonderful and I hope this meets your expectations. Thanks for the request - I can’t imagine ever writing this without it! 🙈 Special thanks to @jokerownsmysoul​ for agreeing to beta!

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open!

Words didn’t often fail Y/N, but the admission left her foggy, reminiscent of what she’d experienced after tipping over in a wheelbarrow race at a school fair. Her foot swung back and forth as she sat on the counter. Fiddled with the phone cord and twisted its beige, plastic curls around her fingers. Were there signs she’d missed? Was her gut right in insisting she was a terrible friend?

“Marriage counseling?” she repeated.

Arthur stopped filling his bowl with sandy, pecan cookies, alarm encroaching his features. She waved off his concern, mouthing “not us” before she spoke into the receiver. “I’m so sorry.” With a grimace of understanding, he patted her knee and ducked out, sweets in hand. No doubt he’d ask her to elaborate. Not that she had anything to share. Not yet. “I had no idea you and Robert were having problems.”

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This is smoldering hot 🔥. Beautifully written and explicit 😉

As wonderful as it was to find that release with her in his mind, finishing left him feeling a little emptier than he had felt before. She would never be his, not like that. Why would someone like her want to be with someone like him? Was she just being friendly? Surely it couldn’t mean anything more. Had he been irrationally fantasizing about something that would never come to be? As he collapsed back onto his couch, the negative thoughts swarmed his mind. Maybe it wasn’t so smart to get his hopes up about something that felt like a dream all along.

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i realized this was also lost in the fall of the CH website so

since it’s That Time of Year again, i’m just gonna bring back my Every Christmas TV Rom-Com comic

#hallmark #lifetime

DESTROY false idols

There is only one TRUE bear and it is ME

#BEAR

Wholesome 100

I’m not crying, you’re crying

october mood

I love you Bill Murray

I’ll leave it here, if you need this.

Him almost falling is me in everyday life

The days after he had seen Ana were difficult, and not only for the fact that their interaction had ended terribly thanks to the neighbor. Life for Arthur just didn’t seem to go the way it should. When he found out his next gig was a children’s party he was excited. Maybe things would take a turn for the best. If anything, bringing some joy to those kids was something he could enjoy.

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