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@unclebingo
I’m a guy of simple taste.

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“… They really do have a holiday for everything. Seems like a joke, indeed..”
“Now -- don’t get me wrong. Superheroes are good...”
“For sending messages to the people. They make WONDERFUL examples of how to get yourself into trouble.”
The ground had trembled beneath her feet for a long time. Longer than she ever had experienced in Arcadia Bay. It scared her to death, and being outside only made it worse. People all around gasped and screamed in terror, running under doorways and diving beneath restaurant tables. Chloe could only try to run to run to some kind of safety, but her steps swayed and stumbled as the ground moved with her. It only made her heart race faster.
Getting back home was her first priority– maybe it was a bad idea, being in a large apartment building, but she could only hope there was something to absorb the shock. It didn’t seem that was the case for other buildings– she could see and hear the deafening cracks, and could only watch in terror as the tall skyscrapers fell to their, and others, demise.
“Oh god–!” her voice shook as she heard the screams of more people, her muscles tensing in fear. What in the world was happening? Why was destruction coming to this place… some kind of afterlife, she had assumed. Maybe she was wrong, maybe–.
The cry for help that she heard was muffled, short, and followed by another. For a moment Chloe hesitated. Could she even help them? What if she got hurt in the process? There was no Max there to save her… But should couldn’t just let someone die. She would blame herself.
“Hold on I’m coming!” She called, running toward the voice. A convenience store had cracked and crumbled on a civilian, a slab of the store’s wall trapping him to the ground. Chloe looked at the fallen debris– maybe she was just strong enough to help…
“Okay, okay I’m gonna try and lift this thing and you gotta crawl out like a fuckin’ champ okay?!” Sure, freaking out in front of him wasn’t helping, but she couldn’t help it. With a grunt she pulled on the thick drywall and concrete, adrenaline coursing through her system. It was only an inch, but she was able to lift it.
“Go!”
He hadn’t actually expected anyone to come over and help him out. Although Jack didn’t really like thinking about it, at the end of the day, he had very little faith in humanity. He liked being optimistic, sure, but enduring one hardship after the other had gradually instilled in him the belief that there really wasn’t very much to expect of the average person. They were just animals, in the end.
Seeing the lady run up to him, his eyes widened and he jerked against the concrete before forcing himself to wait. He couldn’t afford to panic. Not now. Quickly he nodded, acknowledging that he’d heard her instructions... and as soon as the concrete began to move, Jack scrambled out from beneath it, swiftly pulling his legs free. For a moment, he remained there, half-crumpled, half-kneeling as he caught his breath. “Oh, thank God-- Thank you so much!”
But the danger was far from gone. He knew they had to escape.
Forcing himself up despite how his legs ached, Jack took in a deep breath and looked around, wobbling slightly from the tremors. Where could they go? His mind was reeling with a scrambled collection of possibilities. He looked back at the stranger. He hadn’t expected his saviour to look like... that. But that hardly meant he was any less grateful. At least he couldn’t associate her with any of the people he’d had to work with before.
“Come on -- !” Gesturing desperately for her to follow him, the Gothamite stumbled along, doing his best to hurry down the street without falling back down again. He didn’t want to get her into any more trouble, especially not when she’d saved his life so very kindly.
“M - My name’s Jack,” he panted. glancing at her. “I think I know a place..”
“National Superhero Day, huh..?”
“What a joke!”
He even spoke the same way. It was enough to drive the poor woman mad. Flasher of happier times (Or, as happy as one could be with the Joker) flahsed through her mind. All of the laughs. All of the love. Everything, before he changed. The Joker of her world had changed so drastically from the charismatic person he once was. And while she would have willingly jumped into his arms back then, that resentment for what he’d become stayed her hand. Even with this much less infuriating version of him standing before her.
“Yeah.. I miss my ol’ pall. I miss his charmin’ smile. I miss the way he used to laugh. I miss the times when we’d cuddle after blowin’ up old folks homes just for laughs. I miss the times when he didn’t strangle me. Or beat me. Or leave me for dead in some abandoned industrial warehouse where I had ta’ mutilate my own wrists just to get free! You-.. He hurt me one too many times for me to let my guard down again. Even if you’re not him.. I still feel like I wanna beat yer face in for everything he did to me.”
“Oh, Harley...”
He uttered her name gently, though the Joker’s mind was buzzing away a mile a minute. Another Joker? What a preposterous idea (though at the back of his head, it made sense.) Nevertheless, at least they were somewhat on the same page. “You’re upset, I understand. But think of it like this...” If she weren’t so on edge, he would’ve gladly wrapped an arm around her shoulders, hoping to draw her in. But he stayed back, giving her space.
“We can start over.”
“You and me...” He could nearly feel her wariness. He’d have to be careful. “I’d never hurt you, certainly not like he did. Leave you for dead in a warehouse? How cruel!” How idiotic. Even if that truly had been a.. past self of sorts, the Joker couldn’t imagine what had brought on such rash behaviour. At least get the job done right! He straightened. “The most I can ask for is a truce, eh? Let me prove how different I am. I’ll behave. Scout’s honour.”

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@unclebingo
❛you.❜ She nearly spat out the word, her lips furiously down turned with spite for the Joker. Without Harley’s say in what happened to the man, Ivy felt a sudden rush of delight. It was knowing that she could do anything to make him suffer that brought a flicker of a smile to her face, although it was soon squelched entirely.
For without her powers, she was at an utmost disadvantage here. Instead of making further plans, the redhead simply sauntered towards him, her eyes moving up and down his appearance to see how well he had adjusted to life in this city. No major changes, she thought… ❛too bad, i was hoping to avoid you.❜
It looked like someone was angry.
The Joker’s recollections of this particular woman were strange. The most he could fall back on were faint memories, those that were like dreams -- nothing... concrete. But that was alright. He was sure the gaps would fill with time, as they did with most other matters. “ME?” His eyebrows rose theatrically as he gave her a bright smile, hands on his chest as though he were both shocked and pleased.
“What could I have ever done to you?” Squinting at her, smile still evident, the Joker swiftly held up a hand. He simply couldn’t help himself. “No don’t tell me. I uprooted your flowers. Contributed to global warming. No? Hm.” His smile dropped just as abruptly, displaying a sharpness in his dark gaze. It was all quite fun, really, but these were fascinating, potentially dangerous beings he was playing with. He had to play his cards right.
“Alright, I’ve already got one angry lady on my tail. Let’s cut to the chase. Whadaya want?”
botanizes replied to your post: “How BORING.” “But then again, bedtime...
I DON’T NEED A PLANT TO STRANGLE YOU
ohh, how sweet
unclebingo
Suddenly, a chill runs through her spine. Fear? No, not quite. Perhaps at first, but the feeling soon subsided. Giving way to confusion. Then anger. Hatred. Such a familiar face it was. Familiar, but not quite the same. But it was the fact that it was familiar that flipped that all too dangerous switch. If it weren’t for the fact that her mallet had been taken away, she’d have swung it by now. Hell, she could always just settle for having him catch these hands.
“You’ve got a LOTTA nerve walkin’ up to me lookin’ like that, bozo! Who the hell do you think you are?!”
“Oh, Harley..”
He gave her a wide smile, eyeing her sharply as a grim feeling settled in his gut. It seemed he was stuck with her -- for what felt like the millionth time. The Joker looked better than he had in recent years, but it was nice keeping things fresh. Groomed. And, knowing his habits, it was only a matter of time before his hair grew out again and things became more.. scraggly. For now, he chose to enjoy the experience.
“Don’t look at me like that! Didn’t you miss your ol’ pal?”
“How BORING.”
“But then again, bedtime stories are meant to put you to sleep...”
thefantasticmsfawkes:
This is an actual commercial in an actual television station.

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unclebingo started following you
{ im sorry i said “unclebingo” maybe like five times irl bc i thought it was a fun name my bad }
( do i win first prize for best url yet )
@thepriceoflife
He wandered on his own, trying to make sense of the situation. It all felt like some kind of horrendous nightmare; no -- something akin to a cruel prank. Yet neither of those possibilities seemed realistic. Not when he could breathe in the industrial stench of the sector, or feel the ground rumble ominously beneath his feet.
Jack walked faster.
Racked with worry, his green eyes darted about, steps quickening as he tried to avoid blazing fires and the wreckage of buildings. It was upon rounding a corner, however, that the rumble became a roar, tremors increasing. Jack’s knees wobbled and he staggered to the side, struggling to find support of some kind -- nevermind shelter -- but it was too late. The tremors worsened, his knees wobbling beneath him as wreckage fell about him. The Gothamite staggered forward, becoming increasingly panicked with each passing second, before suddenly something knocked into him with brute force, slamming him down onto the ground. It was heavy-- a piece of wall that had recently collapsed. Jack let out a groan of pain, shocked that he'd been trapped at all. It was like some kind of nightmare. Would he be able to get out at all?
Eyes wide with distress, he reached forward, chest heaving as he struggled to pull himself out from beneath the collapsed cement. He had to escape; he had to get free and go somewhere where the ground was steady. But where? And how? “Help--!” Was there even a place of safety to flee to? What if-- what if he died? He hardly understood where he’d been taken, to begin with.
"Please!"
He’d always had the worst luck.
twitter here!
Not much went unnoticed by Clint, he was called Hawkeye for a reason. The presence of another person was promptly ignore the moment this said stranger did nothing in the first few minutes of their arrival. Obviously, they weren’t concerned with what he was doing.
Satchel full of gold watches and glittering jewels, the teen turned and regarded the stalking company that lingered. A brow arched at the make-up, green hair, purple suit - a little more grim than the clowns he worked with, but clearly, a clown.
“Judging people by appearances are we?” With a smirk the teen turned to meet Joker with his shoulders squared. His eyes darted up and down the man, a clown unfamiliar to the group he associated with.
“Surely you’ve heard of me. I’m,” Clint tossed a ring toward the Joker, high enough, drew the string of his bow back and shot - the arrow pierced the wall just behind the man, and whirled around the arrow was the ring. “The incredible Hawkeye.” And a massive show off.
The incredible Hawkeye.
The Joker’s eyes widened, though not from the young man’s display of apparent skill. It couldn’t be — and yet it was. “Hawkeye, hm..?” A gleeful gleam could be seen in his dark stare. Slowly, he moved closer, absolutely focused upon the former hero. But was former truly the correct word to describe him? This man… he was clearly Clint, yes, but he was younger. More of a teenager now. It must’ve been due to the scientists’ schemes, as usual, though it nonetheless came as a delightful surprise.
“I thought you looked familiar.”
He sidled up to Clint, looking him over. “So... stealing from a jewellery store.” Shiny items such as jewels and gold pieces of decoration hardly mattered to the Joker; but that didn’t mean this situation had nothing to offer. “There’s a lot going on right now. Dare I say I expected better of you?”
Chewing on the scarred inside of his cheek, he turned to the counter beside them, reaching through broken glass to grasp ahold of a particularly large necklace. It was beaded with sapphires -- quite a sight to behold, one so magnificent it nearly appeared fake. “Jewels and all... it ain’t cheap. But what’re you gonna do with it at the end of all this? Sell it?” He let out a wheezing chuckle, “To whom? This city’s falling apart, you know.”
@unclebingo
p͎̬̖̺̗͗ͪ͂̍̆ͯ̄́͜r̨͎̪̦̦̲̂̆̓͛͞o̦͔̟͆̃̔͊̐͢ ̥͖̊ͯͧ̿͜d̸̤̖̖̰͕̮̦ͥ̈͘ͅ ͩ̒̾̏̌̈ͮ̂͏͘͏̞̮̘̟̺è̥̘̩̬͗͗̄̿͑̿́ ̹͙̰̺̮̅̍̊̅͡͝͠g̴͙̳ͥ̑ͣ̚͘ ̛͖̗̺̘͉̘͙̯̓̓͜r̜̳͙͚͚̭̼̳ͬͯͩ̚ ̧̝̦͙̟̬̬ͥ̊ͨ̕e̴̬̳̞̤͈͚͔͑̐̈́́ͣ ̧͖̱̒́ͩͯ́s̝̯̖̭͍ͦ̉͊͡ ̻̗̣͂ͫͫ͆͋̓́̀̕ͅs͖̜̱͙̗͔͓͔ͦ̿̕ ̶͎̤͚͎̪̼͖͔͒ͫ͂͂̀͡ĩ̼̪̲͚̙̹̪̋ͧ̅̚͜ ̴̶̖̯̼͖͋̌̒͑̈́o̱ͬ̃́̚ ̮̣̝̓̋̃̑͆͜n̞̘̙̫̻ͧ̎ͩ̐ ͍̹̮͖͋͌̏ͧ̈́͡
How Clint had managed to get himself here, he couldn’t recall. One moment he had been following the lead of Buck Chisholm, the Circus of Crime’s very own Trickshot, and in the next moment the haze of fog and lifted and he was among the rubble of a city in chaos. As disorienting and confusing as that was, the only solid thought that came to mind was - where did his mentor go?
Puzzled, the teenage archer sat himself on the curb of the street and removed the masked from his face. He wore a costume, one that matched his mentor Trickshot, black tights and a purple tunic. It might’ve been a little funny to see now, but moments ago he had been under the night sky, following Trickshot in a rather detailed robbery. Obviously, he had lost his way there - somehow.
Clint glanced up and down the street, noticing the unmistakable glow of a fire somewhere in the distance. “Hmph.” Brushing his knees he stood, the mask left on the curb, noticing the building he happened to seat himself in front of - a jewelery shop? There sure was a lot of glitter in the windows. He was actually shocked, how was a place like this not even lotted yet? Crime was so easy to commit when chaos kept watchful eyes occupied.
It wouldn’t do if he returned empty handed, after all, he had to earn his keep. And so, Clint Barton, not-yet Avenger, but Hawkeye of the Circus of Crime, broke into a jewelry shop with ease and stuffed his satchel with everything that glittered.
He’d caught sight of the man from a distance; at least from there, the Joker had noted a familiarity about the stranger -- and so he’d tailed him, quietly following him into the jewellery store. Surprisingly enough, the Gothamite could be stealthy when he wanted to, and this burglar was so focused on collecting the goods that he hardly seemed to notice.
The Joker came to a halt.
“Well, what do have we here...”
“Judging from that outfit of yours... I wouldn’t have assumed you were the stealing type’a guy..”
As entertaining as meddling with heroes could be, the Joker found just as much entertainment in tampering with the affairs of criminals. Of course, a crime such as this seemed petty; something that any old rule-breaker could do, really. But why not have a change of pace?
Through it all, the Joker couldn’t help but feel there was something about this one. Something that set him apart from average robbers. Something about the situation seemed... off. He intended to get to the bottom of it, one way or another.
“You got a name?”

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She clasped the proffered hand and shook it, with a firm, inviting grip. “I’m so relieved to hear that!“ He seemed out of sorts, but if he’d broken anything before or after their trip, he’d not be standing painlessly. “And here I was thinking I’d killed you. You’re a lot tougher than you look, that’s for certain.” The witcheress laughed, eyes glistening with relief, as her hold eased.
“My name’s Ciri.” She stood with shoulders back, hands resting casually on her hips, as she allowed his question to linger in the air a moment longer. “That? Oh, that was nothing. Shouldn’t bother yourself trying to figure out. At any rate, its unlikely you’d believe me, even if I did tell you.” A coy smile teased the edges of the girl’s mouth. "Now let’s see where we’ve landed, shall we?”
Their platform was made up of dark clay bricks, surrounded by black, metallic railing with pointed tips that stopped against a wall, in which was embedded a door. Despite tremors and quakes that rattled the city, this place remained undisturbed, save for bird droppings scattered randomly here and there. No further inspection was necessary; even the dullest of minds would’ve figured they were on a roof. Ciri counted themselves lucky they’d not landed on a slanted one spied off in the distance.
“I’d only intended to take us around the corner…” she muttered, with a note of irritation, starting for the door. Her fingers curled around its knob, though stopped short of opening it. With a look over her shoulder, Ciri motioned him over with a head tilt. “Let’s move on to the lower levels. I’m eager to find out where we’ve ended up.”
With that, Ciri entered and descended, knowing Jack would follow. The hall spiraled into the dark; aside from the tapping of her own boots against the hard cement steps, not a sound rose from the inky depths. Unable to bear the silence any longer, the witcheress called back to her companion, “Have you been in this city long? You seem rather adjusted for someone so skittish.”
From the perspective of a scientist, he found himself nonetheless curious to learn how she’d managed to teleport the both of them; however, it seemed evident that there were more pressing matters at hand. Thus Jack said no more and merely followed her, gazing about at their surroundings. They were on a roof of some kind... atop a building that sat upon a large stretch of land. In all honesty, it came as a nice contrast against the industrialised atmosphere of the city, and at least here the ground did not tremble with earthquakes.
It seemed she didn’t have a complete grasp of her -- her powers, if that was an appropriate way of referring to them. The mere concept of them gave Jack a thrill of excitement. It was like something out of a fairytale, really. But now he was beginning to trust the reality of the situation, no matter how dream-like it seemed to be.
Strangely enough, there seemed to be something eerily familiar about this place. It was beginning to get dark out, making it somewhat difficult to determine their surroundings, but... Jack simply couldn’t shake off that feeling. For now, he’d keep quiet about it, but that voice in the back of his head -- it seemed to grow louder as they started down the stairs. Like listening to the muffled voices of neighbours, he could vaguely hear the voice’s volume, it’s presence in his mind, though he remained unable to make out any of the words.
“Ah..” Skittish? How embarrassing (though he hardly intended to deny her claim.) “I--” And yet he faltered. How long had he been there? “..I’m not sure..” Jack sounded confused. “I feel as though I’ve been here for ages, but.. strangely enough, I don’t remember much at all.” Nervously, he laughed. “Nerves must be getting to me. But-- are you also a newcomer?” He was relieved when they reached a doorway. The door itself creaked slightly, and as they exited the stairwell, they entered a large room shrouded in the dim light of dusk. A library.
“Huh..”
Following her into the room, Jack gazed about at the tall rows of bookshelves. It seemed almost grand, really -- and of better quality than any old public library. No one was there, though that gave him a sense of comfort, strangely enough. “What d’you think this place is?”
noxnatus:
Of all the people monsters that had to enter the city, Joker had to be one in a million.
When Nightwing set his eyes on him, he couldn’t believe who he was seeing, the green haired man with the ghostly pale face and wicked red smile. All his childhood fears had suddenly returned. Doubt soon set in, he knows believes he could not handle the Joker on his own, no Robin has ever been able to face the infamous nemesis.
“Hey, mail ordered clown, I think it’s about time to switch careers; no one cares for slap stick comedy anymore.”
‘Great move, Nightwing, antagonize Batman’s arch enemy. Might as well give him a free shot while you’re at it.’
“Mail ordered clown?” He rolled his eyes. After months of nothing but unfamiliarity, it seemed the batfreaks were finally rolling in. He didn’t really know them, no -- at least, not directly, though it all felt strangely familiar, as though they’d met in a dream. And, of course, when it really came down to it, all that mattered was their relation to Batman.
“You’re gonna have to get more creative, kiddo, if you really wanna pack a punch.”
From out of a pocket, he produced a simple switchblade knife, audibly flicking it open. “But listen, do you really think you can take me on?” Now for the talking. The intimidation. If there was one thing he could take pride in, it was his wit. The Joker’s tongue darted out, running over his lips, his dark gaze focused eerily on Nightwing’s own.
“D’you know how long I’ve been stuck here, in this city? Hm? ‘Cause lemme tell you.. it’s been a while. I’ve been working on a few things, myself.. But -- regardless, I’m so glad you could finally make it!”